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peachtarto · 2 months

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A Hundred Golden Urns - Part ii

Pairing: Luke Castellan x unclaimed demigod (Alexandria)

Summary: Luke tries to help an unclaimed camper

Warnings: bit of angst- nothing crazy!

Part 1 here! Part 3 here!

Luke had half expected she wouldn’t show up to their sparring session.

He’d been pacing back and forth across the sand for the better part of an hour when she finally showed up. She wasn’t late, he was just rather early by his standards. He realised he’d said ‘first thing’ to her on the jetty, and then also realised that it was unlikely that either of them would know when that was. And so, as soon as the sun had begun to rise, he’d been stood in the sparring ring.

She had her hands behind her head as she walked, platting her hair into a braid down her back. She was biting on her lip as she did it, scowling at nothing. He tried not to let his eyes linger for too long, lest that scowl be turned on him.

‘I’m sorry if I kept you waiting.’ She said as she reached the edge of the ring, grabbing a chest plate and beginning to pull it over her head. ‘I hope you haven’t been here too long.’

She sent an apologetic smile over her shoulder as she pulled on her leathers. Again, he tried not to let his gaze linger.

‘I got here a few minutes ago.’ He replied, and hoped she couldn’t hear the lie in his voice. ‘I thought I’d better warm up before I trounce you.’

‘What happened to taking is slow?’

She turned back towards him, her armour on and her practice sword dangling in her right hand. It occurred to him then she didn’t even know how to hold a sword, let alone use one. He stepped towards her and gestured towards her sword arm.

‘Slow doesn’t mean easy.’ He said, taking her hand and adjusting her grip on the blade. ‘And I think you’ve been holding out on us.’

She quirked an eyebrow up, ‘oh?’

He let her hand down and retreated a few steps, gathering his own sword from the sand. ‘I think there’s more to you than meets the eye, and I for one, would like to find out what that is.’

Luke lunged before she could reply, swinging in a quick arc down across her body. Metal clanged as she battered his attack away from her chest, falling back a step. But as quickly as she’d stepped back, she readjusted her footing, settling back into her heels. It was his turn to quirk an eyebrow.

‘I thought you said you weren’t good at this.’

He tried again, this time swinging low. His sword met nothing but air. She’d stepped right out of it’s path.

‘We’re demigods, we’re all good at this. It doesn’t mean I’m anything like the rest of you.’

This time it was her that stepped forward. Like managed to bring his sword in front of his face as she hammered down at him. The echo rang around the ring.

‘Yet.’ He smirked.

They practiced into the late morning, until the sun was almost fully overhead. Luke had won every round. She had expected as much, she only knew a few basic moves, and she’d exhausted them in the first 30 seconds of sparring. He’d quickly learned her arsenal and had been untouchable after that.

She’d also expected that he would be smug about his victories, but that Luke was nowhere to be seen. At the end of each round he’d helped her up from the sand, complimented her stance or her footwork and then promptly got to work on her flaws; he’d been patient, and explained how to fix each one, letting her retry movements over and over until they were mastered. She was tired and sore, but a small part of her was beaming at the fact she’d managed to stand her ground at all. She’d watched him fight, she knew few people could withstand five minutes with Luke, let alone win. Maybe that small part of her was also a little proud.

‘You did well today.’ He said, reaching to take her sword. ‘You downplayed your skills, you’re miles ahead of where I thought we’d be.’

She handed it over with no complaints, glad to be taking a break at last, and gave a small shrug in response. He was being nice, and it wasn’t lost on her. Chiron had probably told him to butter her up. She went to turn away, but a hand on her shoulder stopped her.

‘Hey,’ he span her around to face him again and she was keenly aware of the warm hand that was still on her, ‘I mean it. I don’t know about you, but I had fun this morning, normally it sucks when everyone goes home, I’m glad I’ve still got someone to spar with.’

Nice. Still so nice.

‘I’d hardly call it sparring, I could barely keep up with you.’

He sighed, letting the hand on her shoulder guide her to the bench beside them. She slumped onto it. She hasn’t realised how tired she was until her legs met the wood, then it was all she could take not to sprawl across it and fall fast asleep.

‘Because you’re still holding back.’ Luke said as he began to untie her leathers, kneeling on the sand in front of her. She didn’t stop him, she wasn’t sure she had the energy to try. ‘There’s more fight in you, I know it.’

He gently slid off her arm coverings before lifting a leg into his lap, nimble fingers unlacing another set of straps. He could feel her eyes on him, on his face, but kept his own on the laces in his hands.

‘We all start somewhere,’ he continued, eager to fill the silence, ‘by the time the others are back next summer, you’ll be flying. Everyone will want you on their team.’

She stayed quiet.

‘I was a sorry state when I first arrived, I could barely keep my helmet on. Clarisse knocked me on my ass at every opportunity, so believe me, I know how that feels. But I saw you this summer, you can already hold your own. No infirmary visits after capture the flag, no broken armour, no chore duty- you’re already doing better than I was.’

He didn’t look up from his work as he continued talking. If he had, he might’ve seen her misty eyes or her wobbling lip, or the way her hands were gripping the bench so hard her knuckles were turning white.

‘Chiron thinks you’re a natural, we’ve just got to tap into that part of you. I think if we just work on-‘

Finally Luke looked up. She’d tried to keep the tear from falling, but it was too late. It fell onto her lap, followed by another, and another. He opened his mouth to speak but Alex was already on her feet, walking away from the sparing ring. Away from him.

‘Alex wait!’ He jumped up, dropping the leathers from his lap in the process. He had to jog to keep up, she showed now signs of waiting. ‘Alex come on, slow down!’

By the time he caught up with her she’d made it halfway back to the cabins, arms wrapped tightly around her body. He side stepped her, holding his arms wide to stop her from going any further.

‘Please move Luke.’ She said in barely a whisper, trying to push past him.

‘Not until you tell me what’s wrong,’ he said, placing his hands on her shoulders and leaning down to her eye level, leaving her nowhere to look but at him. ‘I thought we- I thought you enjoyed this morning? That was a great session!’

‘Luke I don’t want-‘

He cut her off before she could finish.

‘No more not wanting to talk about it, let’s have it out.’ He breathed, ‘almost everyone has gone home, you can talk to me. I just want to help, if you explain, maybe I can.’

She reached up to where his hands rested on her shoulders, and gently peeled them away. She stepped back, then to the right, and made to move past him again. She avoided his gaze, but his glare burnt into the back of her head. As she walked, she could hear the crack of twigs under his feet as he followed.

‘Okay, so you don’t want to talk. Noted.’ Luke gritted out as he fell into step beside her. He didn’t mess the way she sped up, trying to outpace him. ‘You don’t want to come to dinner, noted. You just want to cry it out alone in the middle of the night, noted.’

That was enough to make her falter, and dare a glance in his direction. But she didn’t stop walking.

‘Alex,’ he tried, softly. His tone made it sound like a plea. It hurt her chest. ‘Alex I just want to help you.’

She slowed down, not because she wanted to, but because they were nearing the edge of the cabins and it wasn’t a conversation she felt like having in front of Clarisse. She turned to him, looking up into his concerned face.

Nice. And handsome. So devastatingly handsome. She’d seen carvings of Hermes, and a few paintings here and there; to her, Luke held no resemblance to the god, to his father. The thought struck her then that his mother must’ve been the beautiful one, the kind one.

‘I don’t know what Chiron promised you, or what Mr D offered you. Whatever it is, just tell them you helped me and claim it- I’ll play along if they ask.’

‘They didn’t ask me to help you, or take pity on you. You’re cabin 11, that makes you my problem.’ She winced at that. ‘Look I’m just saying, you’re one of us, a Hermes kid, for now anyway. We stick together.’

‘And if I get claimed? What then?’ She asked, ‘I’m out on my ass again aren’t I? I won’t be a Hermes kid anymore.’

He wanted to correct her, but he knew there was a semblance of truth to what she said. She wouldn’t be his ‘problem’ if she went to another Cabin, her well-being would be the responsibility of whoever was counsellor there.

‘I don’t want to settle into a life here, only to have it ripped out from under my feet. I’ve had that so many times before, I’m tired of being disappointed.’

‘Then I won’t.’

‘You won’t what?’

‘I’m not going to disappoint you.’ Luke said firmly. He dared a step closer, holding out his hand in a silent deal. ‘I promise I won’t disappoint you, even if you end up an Ares kid or some snotty nosed Aphrodite kid. We’ve got all year to figure this out, the cabin is quiet enough that even if you’re claimed next week you can stay for a while. I promise you won’t ever be, what was it you said? Out on your ass.’

She looked at him then, and he could see it. A tiny smile, right in the left corner of her mouth.

She shook his hand.

#luke castellan #luke castellan fic #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan x reader #imagine #fic #fic rec #percy pjo #annabeth percy jackson #percy series #percy and annabeth #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #percy and grover #annabeth chase #grover underwood

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gglitch1dd · 2 years

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Blood and Fire

Context: Kirishima and Bakugou embody fire, flames and destruction. Their path of carnage and love for their beautiful culture is evident. Yet, who could have thought a human could be soulmates to people like them.

Something I posted on AO3 to retry my Fantasy AU. Either way, when I posted this I had 999 followers, and this is me shamelessly asking for more cause I need just 1 of you little guys to post pt 2 of Arranged.

Kiribaku x femReader! Fantasy and Soulmate AUs.

Warning: Yandere themes!, BLOOD (Like a lot of it), Mentions/Refernece to dead bodies, Gore-ish, Sacrificial ideology, tribalistic themes. No cannibalism but there is basically blood drinking. No NSFW in this part but things get real touchy and investigative with Bakugou and Kiri later. Kiribaku spicy. Language. Planned arranged marriage for reader.

Words: 6,5k

The town of Torok had fallen. It was so quick one couldn’t even begin to fathom where it all went wrong. Dragons cried in the sky with such load roars of life, it haunted those who spoke just hours before to their children of their extinction. Fires littered across the dark town central as people scream and ran for help. There was no aid, and any glimmer of hope was quickly snuffed out by the strong barbarians that would bring down their axes and swords like lightning. Buildings fell from the rough force of the giant beasts of scales and fire in their souls.

But at the village gates, where it was predominantly silent other than the echoed screams of the fallen innocent, was one of the barbarians. Their leader. His hair was that of a sand and eyes as piercing as the fires that the dragons exhaled. A red cape sat on his shoulders, the white fur of a direwolf brushing his neck as he worked. Blood dripped down his jaw as his hands furiously went to work on leaving an impression on the gates. The bodies of innocents lay strewn on the ground for him to use and consume how he saw fit.

He walked over to one of the corpses, a man maybe just out of adolescent, a few years younger than him. He felt nothing looking down at the corpse, if he did feel something it was the thought and the drive of what he had planned for the night. He crouched down next to the body going on his knees. He dipped his hand into the warm open cavern that was the corpse’ chest. His hands moving in between organs and vascular tissue, as he looked for something specific. Then he felt it, smooth yet almost triangular shaped.

A wicked smile pulled to his face as he wretched the organ out of the body. The liver. He looked at it with such fascination, as if it would start moving in his very hand. He stood up with it still in his hands, looking down at it. The body part seemed so small compared to his hands, with dark black nails as sharp as his dragon comrads. Yet now his hands were drenched in so much blood that even the rains couldn’t wash them clean.

He walked back to the tall wooden gates. His dark nails squished the organ in his hands, blood spurting out of every pore and dribbling down his forearms and he went back to his task. Using the thick life substance, he drew back on the double doors, hoping his message would come across more than strongly.

Everyone knew of him, they told stories to their children to always say their prayers that he would never visit their villages or towns. Everywhere the blond walked was destruction and wreckage, pathed way but his battalion of barbarians and dragons. All his life people had only regarded him as a man who brought nothing but wrong with him, so that’s what he embraced. He embraced the heat, of the flames that came with his reign.

The blond took a step back with to look at his work, his eyes broadening. He threw the organ to the side, discarding it as it had no use to him now. A small chuckle bubbled in his chest, then it grew until he was laughing broadly. A huge grin on his bloodstained face at his masterpiece.

Suddenly two big arms snaked around his small waist. A body broad and big, made of hot muscle and scales behind him. A rumble came from the beast behind him as lips moved to his neck. The blond’s neck was littered in bite marks and scars, a sense of pride to him. He relaxed against the redheaded scaled deity behind him with a satisfied smile on his face. He didn’t have to look back to know who it was. He knew automatically. The being, larger than any man could dream and more powerful than ten men put together, had his eyes flicker up to the gates.

A rumble of a chuckle came from his chest. “You…” His voice deep and commanding in attention yet filled with amusement and admiration towards the blond leader. “Are absolutely devious, my love.” He complemented placing more kisses to the blond’s neck.

The blond laughed bringing one hand to his lover’s neck. “I know.” He let out certain. “I wish I could see Deku’s damn face when he sees this.” He voiced out. His red crimson eyes rolled back at the feeling of sharp teeth against the juncture of his neck and his shoulder. He sighed back, at the beast’s mercy in every way.

The beast chuckled at the blond’s relaxed form. “Another time.” He mumbled against warm skin. The beast turned him around in his arms to face him. Red met red. The redheaded beast, with his thick locks of red hair and just as haunting eyes, looked down at the blond with a smirk. He admired the perfections that made up his lover. His thin waist, broad chest with fat pecs, eyes drawn on him like art and skin littered with some battle and love scars. His large hands, rough yet ever so loving tightened on the blond’s waist, pulling him forward. Bare chest against bare chest. Blood, sweat and remnants of tribal paint mixing together between the two. He bent down and kissed the blond in earnest, groaning at the taste of his lover and sacrificial blood on his lips. The blond chuckled at the beast of a man in front of him.

The soulmate marks on their inner forearms glowed slightly at the affection between each other. The mark was made of three parts. Three words in draconic that looked more like a mix of claw marks than anything. Fire and Blood. The link between the two words didn’t glow. A missing third piece to their bond still without them.

The redhead moved back. “Oh, how I do love it when you are like this.” He growled out, his lips stained with blood from the blond.

The blond tugged harshly on the beast’s red hair pulling him closer towards him. His eyes sparking in a challenge. “Then what are you waiting for?” He asked in a whisper, lips brushing against the beasts in want but restraint.

The redhead scoffed. Temptation laced heavy in the air. The smell of blood and lust clouding the beast’s senses. “Later,” He promised with a soft kiss to the blond’s nose. “When I can properly fuck you into the coming dawn. Right now…” He turned his head to where he had come from. “The troops have taken everything. We should return before he arrives.” Huge red wings, powerful and expansive like the rest of him spread from his back. They spanned behind him haunting.

“That was the plan.” The blond nodded. He moved from out of the redhead’s arms and started walking in the direction the redhead was looking. “Have you found her?” He asked more seriously.

“No.” The beast let out, walking between the trees, next to the blond. “But I know where our missing third is.”

That was the information they were looking for. The blond glanced at him to the right, the redhead becoming harder and harder to see in the darkness and in the sprawling of trees. The blond set into a run. “Where?” He asked, his hair pushing back as the wind blew in his face.

A huge growl irrupted from beside him, as smoke filled the air and a rumble was from the earth. Moving closer to his left, the blond reached out a hand and jumped. Just as he reached peak height, his hand grabbed onto a sharp horn of a large dragon. His own height minuscular than that of the black and red scaled dragon. The beast took off up into the air, the blond, holding on from one horn. With all his strength he pulled himself up to sit on the dragon’s head, hand holding each of its largest horns as they moved into the air. The dragon, biggest of all that were in the burnt town, roared in the air. Other powerful fire spitting beasts took off from the ground following the giant dark beast with the blond rider.

“The next town over.”

The blond laughed with a smile. “Perfect.”

You stood in front of your mirror in your white night gown. You pat down the cotton fabric as you stared at yourself in the mirror. This was the last night you had unmarried. The last night which you could have spent finding your soulmate if it wasn’t for your parents monitoring your every move. The dazzling white in the corner of the room, once again, caught your eyes.

The white lacy wedding dress on your cushioned chair. The moonlight shone down on it as if it was just as breath-taking as the moon itself. Not to be confused, the dress was pretty, yet you couldn’t find it in your heart to appreciate it truly for what it meant. A wedding. A bride.

You released a sigh as you turned away from your mirror. You could see pretty easily in the darkness of your room. The soft pat of your feet sounded through your room as you headed to your windowsill. The sky held a few clouds in it. Spread out and like a piece of art. You tried to clear your head of all thoughts as you enjoyed the sky. Then you noticed smoke in the air. Your eyebrows furrowed. There was a lot more of the dark black smoke than would be usual from the town. It filled the air like a beacon of destruction. You moved closer to the cold window, your fingers pressing against the glass. In the direction of the town, you saw light coming from beyond the trees. Your eyes widened as you realized the only source of such bright light in the darkness.

Fire.

You scrambled away from the window and went to your bedroom door. “Mother!” You called out into the hallway. The hallway lanterns still alight showing that people were still awake. You moved fast down the upstairs hallway towards the stairs. “Father, there’s a fire in town! We have to-” You stopped talking as you noticed the commotion at the bottom of the stairs. Talking to your parents were two men. One had dark jet-black hair and onyx eyes. He held a eased smile on his face but your parents looked anything but happy. He seemed engrossed in conversation with them while his comrade stood against the wall. You paused.

The other was a blond whose eyes instantly went up to you at the top of the stairs. His hair was ash blond, light as if it was made from the same colour that adorned the sandy beaches of the island of Yuuie. His eyes, a deep red but not that of crimson but of the richest wines, so intense and strange, held you with such an intensity you forgot how to breathe. He was large. His chest exposed and he adorned a blood red cape on his shoulders, white direwolf fur sitting on his neck. His arms were folded over his large, exposed chest, his body displaying battle scars like no other and yet… with all his large yet burly self, he looked graceful. Holding elements to him not typically masculine and an illusiveness you could only describe as soul sucking.

Without a word he kicked off the wall and moved towards you in long strides. You were frozen in place, not entirely sure what was going on. Suddenly you were looking up at the blond man in front of you, his eyes still on you as if you were the only thing in the room. He grabbed your wrist and pulled your forearm up for him to see. He was rough but he didn’t hurt you exactly. His hands large but comfortingly warm as the held your arm. His eyebrows softened from their furrowed state as he saw the soul mark on your wrist. It glowed in place making your eyes widen in surprise. “It’s you.” He let out in a deep voice that had you looking up at him surprised he could speak. You noticed his own forearm, but before you could take a good look at it, you were off the ground.

You let out a short scream as you were thrown over his shoulder, him gripping your thighs together securely. That’s when you suddenly developed a voice.

“Hey! Let me down!” You shouted as you hit his back.

He didn’t seem fazed by your efforts of trying to get him to put you down. “Shh.” He hushed you as he pet over you upper thigh making your face fall and erupt in heat. “Stop fussing.” He told you. He went down the stairs. “It’s her.” He announced to the other one, not paying your parent any form of his attention.

His comrade turned to your parents with a bright straight toothed smile. “You have no need to worry Mr and Mrs L/N. All will be taken care of.” He took out a huge sack of gold coins and handed it over to your father. “In our culture, it is often the masculine partner that hands compensation to the family for raising such a wonderful soulmate for them.” Handing over the sack of gold he bowed his head. “More will be sent over to your residence soon. Till then, enjoy the rest of your night.”

“Wait! But… my family!” You shout as the blond took you out the door, you couldn’t get a good look at your parents as you were already out the door and into the cool fresh air. That’s when you finally realised, something was very wrong. Why were they just taking you? Why did they pay your parents? Why did they do nothing? You started to fight harder to get out of the blond’s strong hold. “Let go of me, you brute! Unhand me!” You shouted at him in anger. As a quick resort, you bit down on the back of his other arm.

That took him by surprise as he drops you to your feet. You stumble and land on your butt on the gravel path. You looked up at the blond expecting anger but you didn’t receive it. He looked down at his arm in fascination at the bite mark you left on him. Your bite was not hard enough to break the skin and your teeth were clearly not as sharp as his but the mark was left there. His first ever mark from you. On his arm for all to see. He looked back at you, his lips pulling up into a grin. “Marking me already?” He asked amused. He chuckled. “Good,” He leaned down. “I want you to.” He whispered. You looked up at him as if he was crazy.

His comrade laughed as he walked to stand next to the blond, his hands joined behind his head. “Feisty, she seems.” He commented. “That’s good for the tribes.”

The blond hummed in agreement. “Very. But not right now.” He offered an empty hand to the other male. The dark-haired man handed him a cloth and a bottle with a cork in it. Removing the cork with his teeth, the blond poured some of the contents onto the cloth. That’s when you realized that they were most probably going to use that on you. You started to scramble up and run. Not wanting to look back, you pushed off the ground trying to make to the fence. If you could make it over the fence into the pastures, you would just need to run to the forest.

Yet the moment the fence was in reach, the blond brute had you back in his hands. He pulled you back forcing you back into his arms. Without wasting a moment, he placed the cloth to your nose and mouth. You wiggled violently in the grasp of his thick muscled arm as you tried to escape. You let out sounds of defiance, trying not to breathe in whatever was on the cloth.

“Calm. Don’t fight it.” He urged you. He was not bothered by you trying to escape, he was powerful enough to catch you regardless. Your lungs were burning, and your body was losing energy fast. You had just been running so holding your breath for a long time wasn’t probably. Your body forced you to breathe, gasping for air. “Good girl. Just breathe.” The smell was weird. Odd to you. But you couldn’t tell exactly what it was. Your vision became spotty as your body started to numb and lose its energy. Your eyes fluttered shut as you fell into blissful unconsciousness.

You felt your body slowly regain feeling as you sat up in your bed. Your head was pounding, making you clutch the side of your head in an attempt to try and ease the headache. Your vision cleared up as you looked around at your surroundings and you realized something. You weren’t in your bed. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. You were in what looked like a cave, by the looks of it. A well cut out cave.

You sat in a sort of crevasse in the cave that was cut out into the floor and near wall. It was filled with soft furs, blankets, and pillows. You were pretty comfortable come to think of it, where you sat was adorned in soft items. You would be looking more around the cave if you didn’t notice golden eyes looking at you from outside the sort of nook you found yourself in.

It was a woman. She had beautiful skin rich in melanin that was adorned with pink scales and equally pink fluffy hair. She watched you in interest finding you the one that was watch worthy. You froze in place having never seen a being like her. White horns sat on either side of her head as she tilted her head as she looked at you. Then she seemed to exit out of her hypnotized state. “Evening, your highness.” She bowed her head to you, her forehead on the ground. She was already on her knees before you.

Your eyebrows furrowed. “Me?” You asked. As far as you could tell, you were the only one with her in the cave and so she could only be talking to you, but just encase you were missing something, you asked her.

She nodded her head from her position before you. “Is there anything you wish for?” She asked you.

You hesitated. You took this time to look around. The cave was big with an arrangement of riches and heirlooms. It was warm in the cave, not too much that you felt stuffy but enough that you wouldn’t catch a cold.

You looked back to the pink haired woman with her odd clothing. She didn’t dress like the other women in town. With long clothing with a multitude of layers to cover up their bodies. She essentially wore a two piece, a tight cloth around her chest and breasts and a short length skirt of inner wool and leather. The rest of her was bare to the air.

“Uh…” You started. “Where am I?” You ask.

“Mountain on Island!” She answered enthusiastically. She gave you a big and broad smile of sharp white teeth. You weren’t entirely sure what she meant by ‘mountain’, considering that there were probably hundreds of mountains on the huge island of Yuuie. You opened your mouth to ask her to elaborate when she perked up as if remembering something. “Stay.” She stood up. “I’ll go get them.”

Not giving you any more of an answer she ran off down a sort of hallway that led to another part in the underground setting you seemed to be in. You were really confused. Where were you? Why were you here? Why was there a strange, nearly naked, woman with ink scales on her arms and why was she calling you with a regal title. It didn’t make any sense to you.

Although you didn’t move from your spot in the mass of soft items. If you didn’t move no one would get angry and it was better you stayed on your abductors good graces till you had the chance to run. Then you remembered your family. You were so confused. What happened? What was agreed upon? Did they sell you? Why didn’t they fight for you? The thought made your head hurt.

Before you could wonder more, you heard footsteps heading towards where you were. Moving into your line of sight was one of the men you saw from yesterday. His beauty and presences still haunting. His red eyes of red wine latched onto you as if assessing you, but there was a smile on his face. His bare hands rested on his hips as he looked to you. His big presence was almost suffocating.

Walking behind the blond was what you assumed was a man, but unlike any you had ever seen. He had red eyes too but they seemed to burn and hold blood with them. He was giant and covered in dark tinted red scales. Two big, pointed horns sat on his head accompanied with long red hair. He too was shirtless, letting his broad chest for you to view. Both these men were no doubt gorgeous in every sense.

You moved backwards in caution and fear, moving some of the pillows and furs of the nest. You didn’t know who they were and that scared you. Something deep inside you told you to have no fear, to be calm, but the only logical reaction you could get out of yourself was to move away from them. The blond grinned. “You’re finally awake.” He stated, his voice almost a bit relieved. He opened his mouth to say more but then a hand went to his shoulder. Tanned, big and held small scales over the top. He nodded his head, almost like allowing the redhead to say whatever he wanted to say, next.

But, the redhead didn’t say anything. His eyes, were eyes that held so much intensity and beauty to them, looked at you for a moment. He bent down before you, and crawled into the nest slowly. That’s when alarm bells started ringing. You pressed your back against the wall of the cave. Your heart started beating out your chest and you tried not to fall into a panic attack. The blond wanted to tell you to calm down, but he knew not to disturb his other partner during this brief process. He had to go through it too, so it only made sense.

The tanned man moved forward towards you, in a similar sense to the woman with pink hair. He sniffed you as though trying to find an origin of a smell. His large hands pulled you off the wall and down onto the furs below you. You tensed not knowing if this would lead to something you refused to think about. He kept on sniffing you though, all over your body. It kind of reminded you of what a dog would do, if it was red and had scales. Seemingly satisfied with his assessment, the beast of a man sat on his haunches, releasing you.

He smiled down at you. “Well, hello missing soulmate.” He greeted you, his eyes turning soft and kind and for a brief moment you forgot that this strange man had been on top of you, sniffing you like an animal.

The blond relaxed. The dragon approved of you. It was unlikely for soulmates not to approve of each other but when dragons mate they often needed to be aligned not only physically but emotionally and mentally too. It was a tricky process but at least one that they had started already successfully. The blond moved to sit next the redhead, essentially blocking your only way out, though be it not menacingly.

At his words your eyes immediately went down to your forearm. There you saw your odd soulmate mark and it was glowing, tingling just a bit. You looked forward to the two men in front of you and your eyes widened. They had the same mark. Identical in its black permanent ink in every curve. Theirs was finally glowing in full. Soulmates that had found each other, reunited.

Your breathing calmed down as you looked between the two of them. They were your soulmates. They were real and in front of you. They watched you with soft eyes, as though you were the most precious thing in the world. The blond wrapped his arms around one of the redhead’s arms. He leaned his head against his shoulder and looked up at the other male quietly asking “She’s perfect, is she not?” His voice, not holding the usual gruff exterior he would have shown to others.

The redhead nodded his head. “Very much so.” His deep voice rumbled out. He nodded his head, his warm red eyes looked you over, more than pleased with what was in front of him. “She will make a fine chieftess of our people and mother to young.”

That caught your attention. “Hold on.” You moved back to where you felt safest, against the wall putting distance between the three of you. You were still in your nightgown, so you quickly covered your legs and wrapped your arms around them, staying away from the two men opposite you. “What Chieftess? What mother? I’m not a mother.” You pointed to yourself. The blond mumbled something making the redhead snort out a laugh. You glared at him. “Who even are you? For soulmates, we haven’t even introduced ourselves!” You pointed out.

The redhead released a chuckle. He bowed his head and placed a hand to his chest. “Forgive us, mate. We forgot you are not used to our customs yet.” You felt heat creep up your face at what he had called you. For some odd reason, it sounded so right to you. So heavy with meaning yet said to you so effortlessly. “My name is Eijiro Kirishima.” He introduced himself. “I am chief of the dragonkin here on Dragon Island.”

You perked up. You were on dragon Island, off the main island of Yuuie. All previous thoughts of possibly escaping and making it back home went to the fire pits as you realized how far you were from home. Home. Where could you even call home now? Since they were your soulmates wouldn’t that make them, your home? Then you also digested the fact that he was a dragon. That made much more sense to you from the scales on his body, his large size and the horns on his head with golden rings. You thought they were extinct, distant tales of them wreaking havoc on Western Shores came to mind but most of those were dismissed, seen as just barbarians or bandits.

The blond raised a hand and placed it on his large chest. “I am Katsuki Bakugou, Chief of the Barbarians on Dragon Island.” He told you.

You knew that name. Katsuki Bakugou. It was whispered as villains of a bad story. The barbarian chief that brought fire and blood in his wake. It was said that if you ever ran into him, you would need to drop to your knees for mercy for his battalion of warriors. Though they choose to never provide it. Yet the man in front of you seemed nothing like those tales.

You looked between the two of them shocked as you let out a shaky breath. Maybe you were still dreaming?

Kirishima looked to you inquisitively. He could tell this would be a lot for you to take in, but there was still so much more beside this you were yet to be told about. You didn’t grow up in their similar cultures that worked hand in hand together.

Bakugou lifted an eyebrow amused at your reaction. “And you are, setsuzoku?” He asked.

‘Setsuzoku?’

“I’m Y/N.” You stated simply. You didn’t plan on saying anything more, but their red eyes held expectation as if wanting to know everything about you. Your eyes flickered between the two of them. “Uh… My family… we raise cattle.” You let out a bit of a comical laugh. You realized just how much out of the ordinary that was to them, a literal dragon and a barbarian chief. Then there was you, the cattle farmer. It sounded like the beginning of an odd joke. “I… I raised cattle too…” You let out embarrassed but the two of them didn’t laugh. Bakugou sat blinking as if waiting for you to retell your whole life story. Kirishima had his hands on his knees as he held a soft smile on his face, all his attention on you and what you had to say. They looked at you deeply interested in what you would tell them about your life. “I uh… or I did until yesterday but I was going to get married to Neito so I would have been a banker’s wife in-”

A huge growl cut you off as you spoke. Your eyes widened as you noticed how the mood changed drastically. Kirishima’s once kind eyes turned hostile as his sharp row of teeth made an appearance. Did you say something wrong? Did you somehow offend them? Bakugou frowned too, not happy about what you had said. “You were going to be married?” He asked for the both of them. You nodded your head hesitantly. His scowl deepened. His nails dug into Kirishima’s arm but not with much effect. “Did you… love this… Neito?” He asked.

You shook your head adamantly. “No, it was arranged.” You told them. Kirishima seemed to stop growling as he heard that. Bakugou knew that it was just possessiveness. The dragon was probably coming up with ways of having to compete with this other for you. They had just got you and the thought of losing you already or not holding your heart, enraged him. Bakugou relaxed at your clarification. “My parents thought that since I hadn’t met my soulmate, it was best they married me off while they still could.” You revealed.

“When…” Kirishima asked, his fingers pressed against the bridge of his nose. He could never understand how some humans could force people to be together when it was not meant to be. When the universe stated otherwise. “When would you be wed?” He asked you.

You hesitated. He was probably going to growl at this one. “Tomorrow.” You let out in a small voice.

Bakugou let go of Kirishima’s arm and folded his arms over his chest. “Well thank the Starry Flame we got there in time.” He said more to himself than anyone else. He turned his attention back to you. “It doesn’t matter though; cause now you are here.” He seemed to ease up. “Where you are meant to be.”

“Kat.” Kirishima voiced out. “I must see to dinner. You help her get ready. She should meet the tribe.” He stated. Before Bakugou could say another word, Kirishima had a hand to the side of his face. He pulled the blond in for a passionate kiss. Your eyebrows raised in shock, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look away. Together they seemed so powerful yet so alluring. An unwanted heaviness to your abdomen as you tried to wrench your eyes away from them. Kirishima moved back first, seemingly leaving the blond struck for a moment. He turned to you. You felt heat creep up your face as you finally looked down, though this time in shame. He released a chuckle at your actions. His hand moved to your chin. His skin warm like no other you ever felt, warming you like a furnace. He tilted your head back up, and then smiled. He leaned forward. “See you soon.” He let go of you and moved to get out of the nest.

Bakugou watched the redhead for a moment before turning back to you. Your eyes also on Kirishima. Bakugou grinned. “Beautiful, isn’t he?” he asked you, motioning his head back to Kirishima who left. Your gaze moved back to the blond who looked smug but at the same time sort of in awe. Passion in his eyes. “A creature unlike no other.” He tried again. You hummed in agreement. “The dragons have ruled over this island since the dawn of time. Us barbarians just live to serve and worship them. It was them that spat the first flames onto this earth and them that could breathe the fires that could end it all.”

You wondered how he could speak like that. With eyes almost glinting in adoration and a voice so calm, as if it was the most amazing possibility. “Aren’t you afraid?” You asked.

He raised an eyebrow. “Of them?” He asked. You nodded your head. He thought for a moment than scoffed. He dropped his head down as he looked down at his lap. “I grew up a warrior, taught that the only thing I should fear was angering our god, the Starry Flame. When I first met the Chieftain family and found out that I was their son’s soulmate,” Bakugou closed his eyes and placed his hand on his chest over his heart. “I was nothing but honoured.” He opened his eyes once more and you saw he was deathly serious. Scarily so. “I sit with them, dine with them, hunt with them, celebrate with them,” He shrugged. “even mate with one of them.” Your cheeks warmed at his crude language. “I don’t fear them. I worship them. I protect them. I lead them along his side.” He moved closer to you, looking down at you with fascination.

Bakugou sat in front of you, his knees spread accommodating your body between them. He gently placed his hands over yours that had fallen to your sides. He gave you a small smirk of a smile. His palms were surprisingly softer than you thought for a warrior and warm. Very warm. His thumbs lightly messaged your palms briefly before lifting your hands up. You didn’t stop him. You couldn’t. It was like you were entranced with his being. With what he was going to do. You were hanging off his every word. He moved your hands to rest on his small waist. Absolutely envious and yet you couldn’t help but find him attractive because of it.

“In my culture we are taught that they are superior. The dragons are of a higher being in every sense. As a barbarian and given the honour of being a soulmate to one, my body is at his disposal…” Your hands tightened slightly against his warm skin. His smile pulled into a grin at your action, liking your possessiveness and instincts to touch him. He moved your hands up his body, your hands feeling the smooth warm muscle underneath. “My heart, being and soul is the same. Everything I am is for him, for the both of you.” He placed each hand on either pec on his chest. Your face flushed at how round his chest was. Soft with fat yet firm with muscle. “I give my everything to my soulmates and to my tribes.”

You opened your mouth to ask him a question when you noticed his chest start to glow. Your eyes widened in amazement as orange and yellow light shown from underneath his skin. Like a fire raging within him. His skin over his chest seemed to increase in heat and that’s when you knew just how different the barbarian race was to humans. A fire blazed in his heart and shown through his eyes. You looked up at him in awe as he looked down at you amused. His chest stopped glowing and he tilted his head.

He closed his eyes briefly. “I know it is hard for you to understand the level of devotion and surrender our cultures have, that I have, but I know soon you will. Soon your body, mind and soul will be intertwined,” His fingers laced with yours. “with ours and you will understand just how right and pleasurable it is to surrender and live like us… with us.” He promised you, certain of the outcome to all of this. “Now come.” He dropped one of your hands as he turned to leave the nest, dragging you in tow. “There is much to be done and for you to know.”

-Glitch1d

Like this? Check out <My KiriBaku Masterlist)>

Also, Want to see updates immediatly when they come out, I update first on AO3. So here's the link to <Blood and Fire> on AO3.

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tommydarlings · 1 year

Text

Was he good? | a.b

pairing: dom!austin x sub!reader

warnings: smut, dacryphilia, mentions of slapping, chocking and overstimulation

w/c: 0.8k

summary: you just wanted to show your husband the new movie you took a part in, but you forgot that there was a sex scene in it where you get fucked by someone that isn’t Austin, and you forgot that Austin is very possessive her what’s his.

my masterlist <3 // my ko-fi to support me! <3 // my PayPal to support me! <3 // my Patreon to become a member! <3

Your husband's dark eyes were starring holes into your slightly fidgety body, hands trying to push his pretty visible erection slightly down as he returned his focus back to the movie on the big screen infront of him.

“Just wait until we get back home y/n.” Austin muttered quietly so nobody else in the big cinema room could hear it.

You were actually pretty excited when you told Austin that you want him to join you watching the latest movie you took a part in, but you might have forgotten that there is a retry spicy and detailed sex scene that includes you and, well, not Austin. And you also completely forgot that your husband of almost 1 year was, well, literally the definition of possessive and jealous, even when it’s just through the screen.

You gulped as soon as you heard the words escaping his mouth with a deep tone, hands gently being placed on top of his growing hard on as he licked his lips and continued watching the sex scene of you and another male actor, eyes focused, not showing any emotion towards you nor the screen.

- - -

You weren’t trying to make a fool of himself or joking when you asked him as soon as you entered the big white door to enter your house how he liked the movie, it was a serious question.

“Are you fucking serious right now y/n, i just watched you getting fucked by some random dude on a big fucking screen and your asking me how I’ve liked it?”

“I asked you how you liked the movie, not the sex scene, austin baby.” You told him with a sigh. “Oh the movie y/n, the movie was fucking great, speaking of fucking-”

“Austin, shut the fuck up! I’m asking you nicely about your opinion because your opinion really matters to me but dir to focused on one single sex scene that lasted maybe 2 minutes!” You told him angrily in a loud tone while balling your fists as Austin took quick steps towards your visible smaller frame, forcing you to walk backwards, your back hitting the white door.

“Was he good?” He slightly tilted his head while raising his brows as you looked up at him with wide eyes, slowly swallowing your pride down.

“What? Your not serious right-”

“Was. He. Good.”

You shook your head before you raised your chin and talked back,

“Maybe.” You told him as you shrugged with your shoulders. Your eyes only caught Austin’s smirk before he swiftly picked you up and pushed your back harshly against the door, hands grabbing your tights tightly.

“Did he choke you like I know you like it? Did he made you cum until you were crying and shaking, did he slap your cute little face until it was red, huh?” He whispered deeply as he unbuttoned his pants, pulling the quickly down with his boxers. “N-no Austin, he d-didn’t-”

“Of course he didn’t baby, I am the only one who can make you feel like that, the only one, we got that in your pretty little brain?” You nodded while your hands squeezed his shoulders as you muttered a quiet 'please'.

He pulled your panties to the side as soon as he lifted your dress and entered you without warning, groaning loudly as his head fell forward, forehead landing gently onto your forehead. Both of your eyes were squeezed shut as Austin’s hips started to move in and out of your wet pussy with ease.

“Knew you’d be so wet already, fucking k-knew, fuck, i-it.” Austin moaned and cried out at the same time as the back of your head hit the door, fingers grabbing his blonde hair. Austin saw that as a perfect chance to bury his nose and mouth into your neck, leaving pecks and harsh kisses that would probably turn into purple marks pretty soon.

“No one will ever touch my pretty girl again you hear me? Your mine to look at, talk to and use whenever I please, alright?” You nodded as you felt how his hands got weaker and weaker but he quickly readjusted them so he had a better grip on your moving body.

“I-I'm gonna c-cum, Austin f-fuck!” You cried out, now you buried your head in the crock of his neck, tears slowly spilling from your eyes, staining his neck and shoulders. “That’s r-right baby, cry for me, l-let all t-the things out that r-random asshole c-couldn’t make you feel.” Austin groaned into your ear as you reached your high, screaming loudly into his neck, Austin’s fingers squeezing your flesh as he groaned and moaned into your neck, probably also squeezing his eyes shut before he slowed his hip movements down.

“And by the way, I love the movie.” He chuckled into your ear with a smile.

#fanfic #fanfiction #austin butler #austin x reader #austin butler x y/n #austin butler x reader #austin butler smut #smut #Austin #Butler

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anim-ttrpgs · 7 months

Text

A pregen PC from our prewritten Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy adventure module, FORIVA: The Angel Game.

Lars Kowalski, "The Collector"

Of course this is just an option for those who would rather just jump instead of making their own character.

Find a full breakdown of his stats and further characterization under the cut, and if this interests you, consider downloading a PDF of both the fully functional Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy rulebook and FORIVA: The Angel Game with a $5 pledge to our Patreon!

Traits

1. Mind over Body || Have a maximum of 3 superficial and 3 penetrative health, but also 4 extra points to use on skills, meaning the total of this character’s Base skills can equal 4. Warning: A gunshot would kill this character instantly.

2. Perfectionist || When this character gets anything but a full success on any non-combat roll, they can choose to try again, but this costs 1 point of composure. If this character also doesn't get a full success on the second roll, they may choose to lose an additional 1 composure and try again. This can be retried as much as desired.

3. Blissfully Ignorant: This character is not paying close enough attention to recognize the danger all around them. Add +2 to all Composure rolls, but subtract -2 from all Senses rolls.

Rich middle-aged husband and an indulgent collector in his hobby - one who borders on hedonism with his vast game and arcade collection which he purchases to keep for himself, although he doesn't even play most of them. He loves to show them off and brag about their novelty and history, full of pride that he is the final step in that history. The few machines he does play are the oldest and the first he’s ever played, and they are only for his use. They fill him with a nostalgia that he has never been able to recapture.

Unfortunately, his full focus on his possessions can distract him from his family, and though they love each other deeply, he can unknowingly put them to the wayside. Such was the case when the older of his two sons became more and more isolated in his room, and Lars had seen no problem with it until they found him unmoving in his bed. The son, Noah, is currently catatonic for seemingly no reason. The doctors are perplexed. On the rare occasion that Noah does snap out of it for moments at a time, he will only speak about one thing: An “Angel”.

Lars has thrown his full attention into this matter now. Through his connections, he has heard that this has happened to many teenagers, and now he seeks whatever leads he can to fix this problem and get back to how things are supposed to be. This is a disruption in his perfect life, an attack on his loved ones, and he will not stand it - though, a part of him deep inside looks upon this mystery with the same fascinated gaze that he would cast upon a new marvel to fully know and possess.

#ttrpg pc #art #ttrpg art #ttrpg #eureka: investigative urban fantasy #roleplaying #coc #tabletop #rpg #eureka #indie rpg #dnd

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ley-med · 6 months

Text

Trying to get an IV line on a patient before her surgery like

Nurse 1: Uh oh. I'm sorry, I will have to retry

Me, probably overconfident: Wait, let me try that! *3 seconds later* Oh well, I burst it too, I'm really sorry ma'am

Nurse 2, also overconfident, and thinking we are idiots: Just step aside, I will do it. Ma'am, you have such beautiful veins, just in a momen- Hey why did it burst.

Meanwhile, the patient:

#medblr #she was not impressed #but took it very nicely

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carte-blanco · 8 months

Note

FIRST OFF

HEY HEY HEYYYY!!!!!! I’m glad you decided to step out of your comfort zone to join the club!! (I was on tumblr for a while before opening my asks too)

Secondly,

Gimme all of your Sweetheart Hc’s please because i’m OBSESSED with them😫

Lastly,

YOU WATCH JJK AND MHA?!?! FAVORITE CHARACTERS PUHHHLEASSEEEEE😫😫😫

HEYYYYY MS GREER. I SAID HEYYY MS GREER. Its a scary experience for me but I think I'll get used to it. So lets GET STARTED YUHH

So first on the Chart is for headcannons is.....

Detective Sweetheart🕶

1. So for Sweetheart. Her name is Violet Hakuja. Pronouns are she/her. Sir(My sweetheart to be exact I think) It has been a HEADCANNON for a while that sweetheart's parents, especially one of their parents is a detective but soon after retried due to an accident for them which lead to Sweetheart having the burden of carrying on the legacy of detectives in their family.

2.Sweetheart is Blackanease(So black and Japanese) she had studied Every art their is to fighting like their mother(whom was the detective) so they wouldn't have to depend on anyone to save them. While also studying the heritage and language of her family. (But y'know can't help but get swept off her feet by a city boy)

3.Has life 4 tattoos, her favorite is the one of a snake coiling around another snake that goes up to her hip and down to her calf. (Her parents don't know about it)

4. She has the habit of drinking a lot due to her stress to prove herself to her family and friends that she's more than her families prodigy. But since she can't drunk as much she turns to being a workaholic between her stressful days.

5. A deep love for Race car driving, kind of went through a rebellious stage growing up. Which led to illegal race car bets and driving past the speed limit... But one of the best drivers out the Shaw pack whom will take you on a spin throughout town if asked.

6. Ok last one last one lol. Her relationship with the pack was much more smoother than she would've thought upon also meeting Milo's mom.

Her and David have that like coworker type of relationship where they will literally talk about nothing but business(Although VI will crack a few inappropriate jokes about his Angel to him)

Asher and Her are troublemakers. Can't sit still for a moment without jumping up at thr thought "Hey lets leave the meeting early and get something eat?". If you can't leave Darlin and Ash alone you CAN'T LEAVE THEM ALONE EITHER

Now Darlin and VI. CERTIFIED BESTIES. That whole family issues crap on top of having a mate who has an accent on top of removing themselves from situations that end up with them in a jail on top asking Darlin for help on cases that are classified. Yeah.....Bestfriends. But don't be fooled they got off to a rough start at first.

Now the JJK AND MHA PART YESSS SIRRR

Favorite Character for Jjk? GOD I HAVE SO MANY but im gonna have to choose my children so...

Megumi and Toge. Don't get me wrong I love Yuji and Nobara. I do. THATS why I stayed in a relationship with Gojo. For my kids but... Megumi and Toge<3 And Nanami

Favorite Character for Mha?

Midoriya and Kirishima. My children come first.

And fatgum

#Oh GOD THIS WAS FUNNNN #redacted asmr #Send me more please

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gretavanfleetposts · 2 years

Text

Persuasion: Pt. 4 || An Indecent Proposal AU

Author's Note: The final part! I'm sorry this took so long but thank you all for your patience and support. I love you all so much! I'll be gone for a while but my inbox and messages are always open. Thank you all for everything 🖤

Content Warnings: smoking, mentions of sex, some steamy situations (18+ minors do not interact)

Word Count: 3.6k

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Every time you found yourself standing around Sam's kitchen island, you found yourself thinking back on the night that had sent you down this path, starting here and leading you back to here.

"We can't keep doing this. You're all so fucking competitive, someone is always going to be asking for a redo." The boys all watched you intently, listening for once as you addressed them as if you were scolding them. And in some ways, you were. "And if I let you all tie, there will be riots in the streets. So once I declare the winner, that's it. No take backs and no retries, got it?"

There were nods from each of the boys, although you knew it was unlikely this would be the last you'd hear of it. Even so, they were listening and agreeing. At least for the time being.

"Only one category this time. Best overall."

More nodding ensued, silently, making you hopeful for the acceptance of whatever outcome you delivered as you carefully avoided Jake's eyes.

"Sam and Jake are tied."

Those were the words that quickly put an end to the silence that had surrounded you just seconds before as Josh launched into a woe-is-me monologue and Jake and Danny each questioned your decision making skills. None of the words registered though, only Sam's quietness and the half smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth, paired surprisingly with no loud rejoicing or bragging of any sort, just a glance down at the floor, a shaking of his head, and a light chuckle, before he silently toasted to himself.

It was an hour later that you slipped out of Jake's tight grip around your waist as Danny strummed a guitar along to Josh's singing to follow Sam onto his front porch where he pulled out a crisp, thin cigarette and lit it carefully between his lips.

"You did that because of what I said the other night."

He said it matter-of-factly just before taking a long drag from the cigarette resting between his fingers, all without ever once looking over at you as you followed his steps across the porch to the railing.

"I didn't; you earned it," you replied, looking at him earnestly despite the fact that he was studying the rail in front of him.

You thought back to his words about not wanting to be your last place. And sure, maybe part of you had been persuaded by those words. But the truth of the matter was that he had earned it. He had finally been vulnerable with you and he had touched you. Really touched you.

But he simply shook his head, pushing you into a state of confusion as he continued, seemingly in disapproval of what he figured you were thinking back on from that night.

"No, that's not what I'm talking about."

Only, you weren't sure what exactly he was talking about. And he chuckled lightly at your confusion, finally turning his head and lifting his eyes to meet your confused stare.

"I should have taken you home after that stupid wedding. Then maybe I'd be in Jake's shoes. Or Danny's.” He smiled lightly as his eyes fell to the ground, just before he raised them to yours again. “But Jake just wouldn't shut up about you; I knew you'd always be his."

You were silent, speechless. Sam rarely voiced his feelings that way. So…honestly. So plainly. And you had no idea how to respond.

He turned his gaze back to the railing in front of him, his focus back to the cigarette he still held.

"It's fine, I know you don't want me the way you want them. I'll take my win. But just for the record, I never would have admitted that I didn’t sleep with that girl if I had known you’d go and put an end to the fun we were all having because of it. An end to the only way I’ll ever have you."

"Sam…" you began quietly but he quickly cut you off.

"It never would've worked anyway. You're too much of a princess."

You laughed lightly then, letting his humor dampen the guilt you felt rising in your chest and the tears you felt threatening at the corners of your eyes. Damn him for turning a stupid little challenge into the first ever admission of his real feelings for you. For pushing the line of friendship as far as it could go just before snapping. What a Sam thing to do. You had always known that he fell hard. You had never been the object of the falling.

So as the silence weighed on, it hurt to imagine how things might have ended up differently had he taken you home from the wedding. Or even, had he admitted any of this sooner. But more than anything, you wanted to ease his pain. You longed to reach out and soothe him, to wipe away the sad demeanor that hardly suited him and replace it with his usual smugness that you both knew and loved, hidden, surely, beneath a sigh before brushing it off the way he always did.

But he wasn’t the one to break the silence.

"Ya know, you could never be my last place, Sam. None of you could. You're all just so good in bed-"

Your words were met with an eye roll but he laughed nonetheless, a welcome sound against the piercing silence that had been growing cold between the two of you.

"No but really. I love all of you. It was never a very fair competition. I think for that you'd have to find some stranger who didn't already love each of you for what you already give them."

His smile grew then, his typical Sam smile, ever himself. "Now there's an idea."

It brought a smile to your own face. "Yeah yeah, so just take the win and gloat, okay? You earned it."

He was silent again before straightening and handing you his glowing cigarette. "And what is it that I give you, hmm?"

You took a long drag, tasting the smoke as it laid thick on your tongue and sent a buzz through your head, all the while you thought about your last year of interactions with Sam, how you had been paying much more attention to Danny all that time and even more attention to Jake. You thought about how quickly Sam had clocked you and Danny and wondered if he had been studying you that whole time, waiting for glances in his direction, hoping for them. You thought about the night in the hot tub and the night much more recently that had felt so different. And then you thought about how he had dressed you, so carefully, so delicately.

“You give me more than I deserve,” you whispered, handing the cigarette back to him.

He only nodded, silently taking the cigarette back and placing it between his lips, turning his attention back to the railing before him.

He looked almost sad as he stood there, but still somehow no less smug than he usually was. And for a moment you wondered if he had said what he'd said when he was inside of you just to get the outcome he wanted or if he had truly meant it. Something in the way he held the cigarette up to his lips told you it was perhaps a bit of both. But with Sam, you'd probably never know for certain, cryptic as he was.

Still, sadness wasn't an expression he often wore and even though it only so much as tinged his features, never fully overtaking his face, you couldn't help but reach for him, taking the cigarette from between his lips and dropping it onto the concrete below your feet to stamp it out. And before he could protest, you threw your arms around his shoulders and pressed your lips to his, his own hands taking no time to find your waist and pull you flush against him and his own lips taking no time to move against yours, all the while his words from two days prior echoed in your mind.

"I hate being your last place."

His lips moved against yours with more force as he searched for you, one hand still holding your waist and the other tangling in your hair to hold your face against his. It wasn’t quick but even so, it was over far too soon as you breathlessly pulled away, swallowing down any guilt you felt over the earnesty behind the kiss.

And then you imagined it.

Sam had flour on his nose and cheeks and you definitely had a floury handprint on the back of your jeans, a product of Sam’s flirtations. The Hozier album playing in the background and the cocktail you were sipping on, Sam’s own creation, made the night go down smoother. You couldn’t rule out Sam’s coquettish advances either. He had a habit of being flirty, among other things, but in a way that put you at ease.

“Here’s a question for you," you said, dipping a finger into your bowl to taste your batter. "How exactly are we going to determine whose dessert is the best? We both know we’ll each just pick our own."

“Well, I was kinda thinking mine would just be so much better that you’d have no choice but to vote for me?”

You couldn’t help but hear the double meaning in what he was saying and you wondered to yourself for a moment if he had heard it too. Of course he had heard it; he had to have. Sam may have been the goofiest of the group but he wasn’t stupid. So you decided to play along.

“Oh, so you’re just assuming it’ll be the best?” It was more of a statement than a question.

He set his whisk down and turned to look you in the eye when he responded, and his reply all but confirmed your suspicions of the double meaning behind the conversation. “Y/n, I intend for this to be the best dessert you’ve ever had.”

You paused your whisking for a moment to meet his eyes before feeling your nerves begin to bubble up inside of you again. As you felt the butterflies rise in your chest, your eyes fell back to the bowl in your hands and you grabbed a cake pan to begin pouring batter, desperately clinging to the distraction instead of Sam’s eyes.

“Well, you might have some stiff competition,” you said as you spooned the last of the mixture into the pan and hoisted yourself up onto the counter to sit and wait for the oven to inform you it was finished preheating.

He laughed at your choice of phrasing with a light “Yeah, I bet,” but went back to his own whisking.

When the oven finally beeped, he poured his own batter into a tin and placed both his and yours in the oven, setting the timer, downing the rest of his drink, and turning around to face you from where you sat on the counter opposite him.

“We have an hour,” he said as he leaned back against the opposite counter. The look on his face was almost too mischievous, even for him.

You were unable to meet his gaze, not out of fear of what you would see but out of fear of what he would because beneath the nerves and the anticipation was his best friend, possibly way too into the idea of having sex with him and each of his bandmates, two of which were his brothers no less. How could he look you in the eyes and be okay seeing that? Especially after what he had seen you and Jake doing.

His response drifted to you from across the space separating you and it was as if he had been reading your thoughts. “Ya know, it’s okay if you don’t want to do this.” He paused for a brief second before adding, “And it’s also okay if you do.”

You watched your heels as they absentmindedly kicked against the cupboards behind them. “Do you want to do this?” you asked, trying to gauge his level of enthusiasm against your own.

He took a step forward, seemingly hesitant to reach out and touch you the way he so desperately wanted to.

“Yes, y/n, I want to do this.” He took another step forward before asking, “Do you?”

When you finally met his eyes, they were overflowing with that look you had been both nervously avoiding and yet eagerly awaiting all night. And you were instantly immersed in it, in him. Again you thought about the kiss at the wedding, the kiss you had initiated, the kiss that, despite the tingling it disturbed in your stomach, did nothing to disrupt the normalcy between you and Sam. The thought of it helped you make your mind up. And so you nodded.

Slowly he closed the distance between you and settled between your legs dangling off the edge of the counter. His eyes were trying desperately to read your face as his hands traveled with hesitance to your thighs. You could feel the heat from his palms through your jeans. You knew he was testing the waters, trying to avoid scaring you off by going too fast, and slowly he moved his body closer to yours.

In spite of the tingling you now felt in your fingers and hands, you reached up to lightly grip his shirt and pulled him into you as his hold on your thighs edged upward and tightened ever so slightly. The closer his mouth got to yours, the more his breathing picked up. And you were right there with him, losing your breath at the thought of his lips touching yours.

His gaze dipped to your lips then flickered back up to your eyes as if he was making sure you were still within his reach. And when he spoke, it was barely above a whisper.

“Just say stop if you want me to stop.”

You didn’t want him to stop. No part of you did. So you stayed silent and instead, pulled him harder into you by your grip on his shirt. And finally his lips met yours in a slow and careful kiss.

His hands moved to your hips, pulling you off the counter and into his body. His left hand stayed in its place there as his right traveled up your back, between your shoulder blades, and finally found the back of your neck, holding you close as he deepened the kiss.

His mouth was hungry against yours and it left you wanting more. You wanted to taste him, to feel every inch of him against you. You didn’t care that you were waltzing across a line that couldn’t be uncrossed. The only thing you were focused on was the way his body felt against yours.

You felt him pulling you away from the countertop as his mouth still worked against yours. Blindly he led you backwards, using one arm wrapped around your waist to keep you pressed firmly against him and the other to feel for the familiar walls that lead to his bedroom, before you finally made it to your destination.

Once inside, his fingers found the hem of your sweater and seemingly found your nerves at the same time because your hand reached for his wrist to stop him, somewhat involuntarily.

“I’m sorry, did I go too far?” he asked, voice laced with concern.

You stared up at him for a moment, breathing still heavy, and did your best to steady yourself before taking a step back to gather yourself and giving him a very matter-of-fact look as you began to strip in front of him.

You pulled your sweater over your head first then worked on your jeans, Sam’s eyes never once leaving your body. And when you were left in just your bra and panties, he approached you again, letting his eyes roam over your exposed skin instead of his hands.

It made you smile, the thought of him not wanting to be the one to push too hard, like he was waiting for you to initiate the touch. So you reached for his hand and placed it on your lace-covered breast, encouraging him to move closer and do the same with his other hand.

“You dressed up for me,” he breathed.

“Well, I wanted to make a good first impression," you said, hoping you weren't making too big a deal of it.

“You’re driving me crazy, pretty girl. I’d say that’s a good first impression.”

He let his fingers admire the lace, slipping two under the strap of your bra and following the elastic from your shoulder down to where it met the cup. He was enthralled.

Your hands began tugging at his shirt while his head was still spinning at the image of you wearing nothing but lingerie and standing in his bedroom, signaling for him to match your level of nakedness. And he obliged, grabbing his shirt from between his shoulder blades and pulling it up over his head, tossing it somewhere on his bedroom floor where it would be forgotten. At the same time, your fingers were working on the button and zipper of his jeans and once he had discarded his shirt, he helped you work them down to his ankles and off his legs, leaving him in a similar state of undress as you, the only article of clothing left on his body being a pair of tight boxer briefs with sharks all over them. Your giggle was stifled by his mouth once again fitting against yours.

Holding you closer to him, he turned so he was walking backward this time, until his thighs hit the foot of the bed and he sat down. His grip on your waist pulled you into his lap and you straddled him, entangling your hands in his hair and using his moan as an opportunity to push your tongue past his lips. The feeling of him growing hard beneath you, the way he tasted of tequila and lime, the way his hands worked over your skin, fingers digging in to get a better grip so as not to lose you, it all spurred you on.

His lips moved across your cheek and he began peppering your jawline and neck with open-mouthed kisses while his fingers reached down into the space between you to gently rub the pad of his thumb over the lace between your legs. Your breath hitched in your throat at the feeling and without even realizing it, your hips had begun to lift into his touch, desperate for more.

He paused his kissing but kept his finger moving as he spoke, his voice coming out breathlessly.

“Just for the record, I never slept with that girl after the wedding. I knew after you kissed me that I couldn’t. I went home alone.”

It was a conscious effort to push past the sensations of his breath hot against your neck and the light teasing of his thumb to reply.

“What exactly are you admitting to, Sam?”

He halted his movements to hover over you and stare at you in the eyes as he suddenly struggled to admit his own feelings.

“I…I made a mistake. It should have been you.”

You were breathless, partially from his actions but mostly from his words. It was the first time he had ever been so vulnerable with you, so honest, no hint of a joke anywhere in sight. And it absolutely captured the breath from your lungs as you stared up at him.

“It’s me now. Just do me a favor. Don’t let me slip through your fingers this time. Don’t let me go home alone.”

“I’m never letting you go home alone again.”

“Is that a promise?”

“Yes, that’s a promise.” He dipped his head to capture your lips again, pulling your thighs up around his hips just to be closer to you, just to feel the heat off your skin burn him in the best way. But his lips soon abandoned yours as he looked down at you breathlessly again. “Just…just please don’t fuck my brothers after this.”

You couldn’t help but let out a hearty laugh as you lifted your head to his, nodding against his lips as the challenge died on your tongue as the taste of him became the only thing you knew.

“Yeah, yeah, just hurry up and fuck me before my cake burns, pretty boy.”

You could practically taste the smile on his face as his lips found yours again.

And then you took a step back, and then another, and another, until you were walking back through his front door, seeking out Jake’s arms once again, leaving Sam standing all alone on the porch.

He welcomed you again with open arms, watching as you quickly swiped moisture away from your eyes.

"Everything okay?" he asked with his lips pressed against your hair as you took your place on his lap, the place you belonged at the end of each day.

You gave him a soft smile and pressed a quick kiss to his lips, trying not to linger under the eyes of his bandmates as you felt that familiar melting feeling rush through you under his touch, dampening the sadness you still carried.

"Always.”

“Good. Because you know I’m just going to have to fix that whole tie situation later tonight, right?”

You smiled and laughed, your forehead moving to rest against his cheek as you collapsed into him, the pieces of your prior decisions and the decisions of those around you falling into place as you pushed the thoughts of Sam and Danny and Josh to the back of your mind, questions to be answered another day as you made your home in Jake’s arms.

Taglist: @hyperfixated-gvf @stardust-and-shadows @s-u-t @obiwanwhore @myownparadise96 @fatefellshortthistime @joshkiszkaenthusiast @theweightofstardust @age-of-nyahh @jake-kiszkas-smirk @maedesculpaeusoubi @jakekiszkasleftnutsack

#greta van fleet fic #greta van fic #greta van fleet smut #jake kiszka fic #jake kiszka fluff #jake kiszka smut #sam kiszka fluff #sam kiszka smut #sam kiszka fic

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sidesteppostinghours · 20 days

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4 and 19 for the ask game? for all ur steps, if you're up for it? Or pick whichever :)

evening! thank you for the ask :]!

4. When scared, does your OC fight, flee, freeze or fawn?

Caine- flight. eyes closed, he doesnt want to see whats going down, and hightailing it as fast as possible. thats what happened during checkpoint three in retri, and wouldve been his choice during heartbreak if they werent ! that said, after the bad dream (the one before we meet chen in the boneyard), he Did stay stock still, since he got the freeze instinct trained into him. (actually i just remembered they punched mitchel (from @hyper-pixels, hi) after they woke up from a bad void dream???? so maybe they just have a weird amalgamation of instincts that crop up depending on the situation).

Cyrus- its a toss-up between fight and flight for him– hes 100% a coward and not afraid to cut his losses when he thinks he needs to, but at the same time, hes a stubborn bastard and has a Lot of anger to spare. generally speaking, his first instinct is fight. its only after he takes the time to assess a situation when he decides what hes going to do though– if he thinks he has a fighting chance, hes going for it. interestingly, hes less willing to fight things now that hes a villain than he was as a hero.

Cecilia- fight. honestly, theres no debate. anybody who has the audacity to scare her is going to face one (1) Incredibly pissed off ceci and probably more than a few fresh bruises. she hates feeling scared–it makes her feel powerless, and thats something she swore shed never experience again. fighting her fears makes her feel like theres something she can do about it, even if its superficial.

Cynthia- its either freeze or fawn, and the farm taught her both <3 she cant bring herself to fight or run because both actions were punished. she found out quickly enough that just taking it gave her a lighter sentence overall, and she continued to use that. fun(?) fact, 'just taking it' pretty much carried her into becoming a fighter step, because her pain tolerance is high as hell now. she still takes the armor upgrade though, just in case.

19. How does your OC behave when enraged?

Caine- hah. ok. well, in most cases, he wont hurt you. most of the time, hed settle for a clenched jaw and a glare. also not above leaving the room, no matter how important the person theyre talking to is. id say they get quiet when theyre angry, but theyre quiet most of the time so itd be hard to differentiate between normal quiet and 'fantasizing-about-watching-the-light-leave-from-their-eyes' quiet. if they have a reason to hurt them though? if hes in his armor, or its otherwise possible to inflict sufficient damage to them? at least One bone is breaking. if the person is regina specifically, shes not leaving the interaction with her life.

Cyrus- tear the bitch apart. psychologically???? physically???? emotionally????? why not all three of them! it would really depend on the situation, but by now cyrus knows how to rein in his anger just enough to figure out what would hurt somebody the most. this could range from kicking their ass to giving them a breakdown by systematically targeting their fears/insecurities. hes a cunt, but hes Smart about it.

Cecilia- Lots of yelling. probably more than a few punches too. her anger is explosive and raw, and its very easy for her to get caught up in it. that said, it doesnt last long either– once the initial anger burns out, shes willing to forget about it. if you piss her off, its a matter of how good you are at weathering the brute anger, which, granted, can be hard to do considering ceci like to hit things. she likes to hit things hard.

Cynthia- that depends when in the timeline she gets angry, because those have very different answers. pre-retri ending, she Refused to show her anger. you could not force her to. echo may end up being slightly more erratic if she got into an argument or something like that, but that was it. but the minute ortega accused her of being a regene copy? that switched up Quick. if she was going to be seen as a monster and a fake, fine, shell play the part. nowadays, getting her pissed means you have a target on your back, and not only is she patient in ruining your life, her high caution means its very difficult for her emotions to blind her. she acts cold, nearly apathetic, but rest assured shes finding out exactly what makes you tick.

questions from here!

#THIS TOOK SO LONG TO FINISH AND I GENUINELY HAVE NO IDEA WHY 😭😭 IM SO SORRY WJDJSJS #anyway. loved these asks #whenever my babies get emotionally compromised i get hearts in my eyes #caine lynzal #cyrus becker #cecilia rider #cynthia garcia #sidestep #fhr #pulp answers #ask game

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y2klostandfound · 10 months

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Bust-A-Move 2 (aka Bust a Groove 2) on Game Players magazine Vol.99 (Video game magazine)(Hong Kong)(24/04/1999)

Translation in English:

ACT 2 Players MEM Corresponding ANALOG CONTROLLER (vibration) Manufacturer: ENIX Release date: On sale (April 15th) Price: 5800 Yen Capacity: CD-ROM Memory: 1 BLOCK

BUST A MOVE 2 - DANCE PARADISE MIX The original dancing music ACTION game is back!

Introduction

"BUST A MOVE", known as the original dance music ACTION work, was well received by the outside world when it was launched on PlayStation last year because of its novel gameplay and concept. However, after a lapse of one year, music-themed games are popular today, and the sequel of "BUST A MOVE" "BUST A MOVE 2 ~DANCE Paradise MIX~" is finally released. There is still a gap in the same type of work "Dance Dance Revolution", but the gameplay is definitely not inferior.so if you haven't encountered the BUST A MOVE series before, now is the best opportunity for you to experience the fun that makes it so different from the others!

Operate method

Arrow key - MENU selects or enters the DANCE COMMAND input. START button - game start, stop BATTLE or RETRY □ and △ button - DANCE COMMAND input X button - Deselects items, DANCE COMMAND inputs, and avoids interference techniques in EASY MODE. O button - cancels selection of items, DANCE COMMAND input, and use of interference in EASY MODE. R1 button - interference R2 button - Interference Avoidance

DANCE BATTLE

DANCE COMMAND Input method

← First beat → Second beat ↑ Third beat O Fourth beat

Three times

One time

※ Before the first three beats, you can input both in sequence or according to the rhythm; however, up to the fourth beat, you need to input both according to the rhythm or the time status.

Speaking of the basic gameplay of "BUST A MOVE", it is actually very simple, as long as you input specific commands within the time of four beats.The DANCE COMMAND BAR is composed of two parts, green and red.When the first three beats are in progress, the green part will appear three times. However, the player needs to input the arrow key commands displayed in the DANCE COMMAND BAR; as for the red part on the right, it will not appear until the fourth beat, which is used as an input arrow key or button, resulting in different COMBOs.

Example 1) When the instruction is → → ↓ ↓ O

-Enter in sequence in three times (beats)

-Need to enter at the same time as the glow (reaching the fourth beat)

stop

Example 2) When the command is ↑ ← O

-If the wrong number of direction key commands is not more than two, the above DANCE COMMAND can also be established

-On the other hand, if you input the wrong arrow key command three times or more, the DANCE COMMAND will be lost immediately.

DANCE COMMANDO SELECT

"DANCE COMMAND SELECT" is to select the way of inputting DANCE COMMAND, and there are three different levels of difficulty: "EASY", "NORMAL", and "MIX". Among them, "EASY" only requires the player to use the arrow keys as the entire DANCE COMMAND; "NORMAL" is the basic mode, which requires the use of the arrow keys (the first three beats), 〇 and X buttons (the fourth beat) at the same time; as for "MIX"The basic form is the same as "NORMAL", but DANCE COMMAND adds two more buttons, △ and □ (corresponding to the fourth beat), which makes it the most difficult.

When the DANCE COMMAND is continuously and successfully input, it will cause a COMBO, which will increase the DANCE LEVEL, and the input COMMAND will gradually increase and change the character's dance steps.

If the timing of the input button is just right in the fourth beat (the red part glows), you can get more points and go to a higher DANCE LEVEL.

Lucky SYSTEM

The new system in this game, there are red, blue and green color squares at the bottom of the screen, which represent "COOL" (green, more than 4 COMBOs), "CHILLIN" (red, more than 6 COMBOs), and "FREEZE" (blue, more than 8 COMBOs). As long as each side obtains more COMBOs in a row, the number of color squares for the corresponding level will increase, and if either side fills up the three color squares first, it will be able to obtain the BONUS POINT, and the special show will appear

Battle Tips Interference Technique

The attack means to prevent the opponent from scoring points, as long as the fourth beat in the DANCE COMMAND input, it will appear successfully, which can force the termination of the opponent's COMBO and DANCE LEVEL, all over again, mainly used in the SOLO PART to use, so that our side to achieve higher scores.

Avoiding Interference Techniques

When an opponent attacks with a interference technique, enter it in the DANCE COMMAND on the fourth beat after it appears to automatically avoid the interference technique, and the ongoing COMBO and DANCE LEVEL can also be saved.

Bounce interference technique

Just like avoiding interference skills, as long as you input the DANCE COMMAND on the fourth beat after the interference skills appear, you can return the opponent's attack to yourself, and you can also get points from the opponent at the same time.

Bounce interference technique scoring formula 1000+200 x (number of anti-bounce interference techniques)

The newly added system "Battle Opponent Divide" is based on the player's performance in each battle to determine the content of the subsequent battle or the opponent's performance.

When selecting a character, press the START or SELECT button to use 2P's special costume.

After completing the game with any character, you can freely choose the scene setting performance in DANCE VIEW

When you reach a certain number of points in each stage, the "FEVER TIME!" dance event will appear.

Corresponding! "Dance Dance Revolution CONTROLLER"

In addition, "BUST A MOVE 2 ~DANCE Paradise MIX~" also corresponds to the "Dance Dance Revolution CONTROLLER" dedicated controller for the KONAMI game "Dance Dance Revolution" launched at the same time. but the only problem is that it only applies to EASY MODE.

Simultaneous PART DANCE LEVEL COMMAND process

Basic Character

HEAT COMET STRIKE BI-O HIRO CAPOEIRA SHORTY KELLY TSUTOMU KITTY-N

Hidden Characters

Like the previous work, this episode "BUST A MOVE 2~DANCE Paradise MIX~" also has different hidden characters. In addition to the BOSS CHARACTERS "ROBO Z-GOLD" and the mysterious character "COLUMBO", there are also several undisclosed hidden characters. If you want to know how to use other hidden characters, please pay attention to the next issue of "Secret Technique Workshop"

ROBO Z-GOLD How to use: Complete the game with any of the six basic characters

COLUMBO How to use: Complete the game once with SHORTY

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sugarandice3 · 7 months

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Self Destruction

AN: So this is one out of (hopefully) three chapters for a slenderverse-inspired fic I began a long time ago. Truthfully, I would love to continue it, but I am in college and leisure time is hard to find so just a little encouragement would be welcome. Also, given my lack of beta readers, this will probably resemble more of a rough draft than a polished piece, so constructive criticism is more than welcome. But, without further ado, my fic. Self Destruction.

Warnings: Mild horror and mental health issues.

Word Count: ~4K.

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Chapter 1: Homeward Bound

The road stretched onward for miles across flat Montana earth, only stopping when it met the wakening horizon. Glaring light filled Keres’s vision, searing the image of the sunrise into her eyes and obscuring the abandoned highway. With a groan, she flipped up the useless sun visor and reached across to fumble around her passenger seat for the pair of sunglasses she had tossed there yesterday. Her fingertips finally brushed against the beat-up aviators as the tires buzzed against the boundaries of the road, warning her of the vehicle’s drift. Keres quickly slid the glasses on, returning both hands to the steering wheel and correcting her wayward car. Glancing at her rear view mirror, she looked through the dust covered glass to make sure that her brother’s little black truck was still behind her. Oliver was farther back now than he had been earlier, but in the early Montana morning on this empty stretch of highway, the greater distance didn’t matter. It only made her feel better that he probably hadn’t seen how far into the other lane she had drifted during her quest to block out the blinding sunrise.

Sweeping unbrushed auburn curls back behind her ear, Keres turned her brown eyes back on the monotonous pavement and focused on keeping her eyelids from lazily sliding half-closed. It was only day one of a three-day road trip back home and Keres was already exhausted. College had not been kind to her.

“College is never kind to anyone,” she mumbled, correcting the self-pity that seemed to be more incessantly tainting her thoughts lately. Just because she wasn’t able to handle the pressure doesn’t mean that classes and being away from home were harder for her than they were for anyone else.

Rubbing her leg, Keres adjusted her grip on the steering wheel and checked for her brother one last time. She sighed again and reached for her phone to turn on some music. It was going to be a very long couple of days.

The red Toyota pulled into a silent motel parking lot, gravel and grit crunching under the tires. Orange street lamps shone weakly around the wings of the building, giving spots of haunted color to the monochrome of the lightless evening. The car came to a slow stop in front of a worn motel door and after a moment, the engine cut off and Keres stepped out.

“We definitely could’ve picked a better place,” Keres muttered, taking in the patches of wind-peeled paint and the withered grass filling the cracks in the pavement.

It definitely wasn’t a 5 star motel, but Keres and Oliver had known that when they made the reservation. What they hadn’t known was that the reviews had been extremely generous.

The motel sat on the outskirts of town, bordered by derelict, trash-strewn roads. Eerie silence pervaded the area, occasionally broken by a passing car, but nothing more. Even in the patchy lot, there sat only a handful of vehicles and Keres wasn’t even sure that most of them were guests here. At least, she hoped that the van emblazoned with the name of the pest control across the street wasn’t here for an extended stay.

The sound of tires spraying gravel announced the arrival of her brother, prompting Keres to cease her critical assessment of the place. It was just one night after all, and it wasn’t like a good night's sleep would cure her exhaustion anyway. Letting out a heavy sigh, Keres turned back to her car to retrieve her backpack while her brother pulled into the parking space beside her.

“Well, this place certainly isn’t gonna win any Google maps awards,” Oliver said grimly, keys jangling as he hopped out of the truck.

“It’s just one night,” Keres said, to remind herself just as much as him, “And the less time we spend awake in this place, the better.”

Keres pulled on the dusty handle and opened the door, pushing away all the stuff that had shifted during the winding drive through the hills of Montana. With a grunt, she pulled her backpack out and swung a worn strap over her shoulder, settling the weight more comfortably as she straightened.

“Well, we should probably go check in,” Oliver sighed, leaning over the front of his truck and running his hands though brown curls in desperate need of a trim.

Keres leaned back against the car as she turned to her brother and replied, “I’ll take care of it. Why don’t you look up some places to eat while I get the room key?”

Oliver nodded, pushing off of the truck and walking around to fetch his phone from the passenger seat. The old door gave a grating creak as he opened it, sharply breaking the heavy silence. Both siblings froze, an unnatural apprehension taking hold of the two. The night air seemed to condemn them for the desecration of its quiet, a palpable threat riding the echoes of the noise. For a moment, Oliver and Keres stood there, both of them pretending that they didn’t feel that shiver up their spine or the nervous buzz of a mind on edge. Several beats of silence passed before she stopped holding her breath.

“Roomkey,” she breathed carefully.

Her voice broke through the miasma, the unease beginning to dissipate like a bad dream the moment her words left her mouth. Oliver straightened, as if surprised, and glanced at the door handle his hand was still resting on. He thought for a moment then slammed it shut with more force than needed, rebelling against the irrational anxiety that had almost faded away. He half-turned to her and nodded his agreement.

“Right.”

Keres glanced at her own door, shut it gently, and turned away from her car, ready to follow her brother. Then the two moved together, passing under the orange street lamps like a pair of ghosts, all color washed away in alternating gray and orange. They slipped past door after door, all of them so quiet that it seemed as if the entire place was vacant. The slightest noise echoed under the overhanging roof and washed loudly into the parking lot, making it feel as though anyone nearby could eavesdrop on their presence here. The feeling was slight enough to easily be ignored, allowing it to twist uncomfortably in their subconscious without their hindrance.

As they made their way to the brightly lit office at the end of the wing, Keres became puzzled at the hollow and oppressive feeling of the place. Yes, the reviews weren’t glowing, but they didn't mention anything about the place feeling unsafe in any way. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she shook her head tiredly and lagged a bit behind her brother. They were just tired, that was all. She and Oliver had been driving by themselves all day, creating the perfect conditions for mental exhaustion. Stress and sleeplessness was putting them on edge.

A few paces ahead of her, Oliver called to her.

“Come on.”

Keres looked up at him and realized that they had reached the end of the wing and that he was holding the door to the main office open for her.

“I’m coming,” she replied, lingering a moment longer before walking the building.

A current of cold air blew past her as she entered, unexpected after standing in the dry heat outside. Keres smoothed her hair back and walked up to the reception desk in the far corner of the lobby. Although the consistent lighting of the room was something of an improvement from the scattered lamps outside, the unsettling feeling of the whole property continued even here. She looked back at her brother as he let the door swing closed behind him. He stood stiffly, strung up to his full height with his shoulders drawn tightly forward, noticeably on edge. Keres looked around for an explanation to the feeling they both shared, something that she could blame for the uncanny nature of this place.

The room decor was as lifeless as the rest of the building. Chairs that were clearly hardly used but were worn down all the same, plastic plants potted in dust, soulless paintings that Keres somehow felt were outdated despite the generic abstract pattern. Everything seemed out of place, yet she somehow knew this is exactly how everything was meant to be. There was a purposefulness about it, something that she couldn’t contribute to the sleepy manager who just stumbled from the room behind the desk and was trying to pretend she had been there the whole time. Oliver and Keres walked over together, but Oliver stepped forward to talk to the woman, temporarily shaking off his stiffness to put on a warm smile. Keres took a position a step behind him, flashing the woman a small smile as well, but she went unnoticed while he was the focus of the manager’s attention. Oliver was always a charmer, so that didn’t surprise her. Keres usually left the social interaction to him anyway. Having no interest in the small talk going on, she paced over to the window on the other side of the room. Looking through the streaked glass, she vaguely wondered if she could’ve also been capable of easy charisma like Oliver. It didn’t feel impossible, but there were walls that would have to come down first and then learning how to see people the way they wanted to be seen.

“Alright, thank you so much! Have a good night Mia.”

The closing of the conversation broke Keres from her ponderous staring, prompting her to turn and look at the woman waving goodnight to her brother. Mia looked out of place here, merely because she was alive in a place that only pretended to understand what that meant. Other than that, her appearance fit what you might expect of someone who ran a shabby motel. She had shaggy brown hair with grown-out, trashy highlights pulled into a messy bun and jarring makeup gave her face an unnatural business that was entirely too much to look at this late at night. Keres didn’t necessarily think less of her for her entirely avoidable appearance, but it did make her curious. What did people see in that? What did she see in herself? What did she see in others?

Once again, Keres was absorbed in her thoughts, her brother’s wake pulling her out the door and back into the heat of the night.

“She seemed nice,” she mumbled, walking behind her brother.

He counted out the numbers they passed each door, searching for their room. She watched the back of his head, curls bouncing as he nodded and replied, “Yes, she was nice. A bit odd, but I don’t think you could expect normal in a place like this.”

“A place like this,” Keres repeated thoughtfully.

She was still trying to figure out what that meant. What was this place like? Because what she felt here was not like anything she had felt before. It was unique.

They stopped in front of a door near the end of the row, thankfully close to where they parked. Oliver slid the dull key into the lock and attempted to turn it, but the old knob was loose, twisting and jostling with the key. Her brother heaved a sigh and muttered something under his breath as he leaned closer to the door and began delicately messing with the troublesome apparatus. While he struggled with the door, Keres turned around to scan the sagging fence that bordered the parking lot. As her eyes roved over it, she wondered how it was still standing. The fence was caged by the brittle remains of whatever short-lived vine decided to weave between the rotting boards and it rattled like old bones whenever the hot breeze blew against it. She couldn’t see beyond the fence, even though she knew there were buildings out there. Cocking her head, she squinted at the darkness. Even though there weren’t any buildings close by on that side, there should still be some light, some glow that she would be able to see outside the perimeter of the fence. Keres took a few steps into the lot, searching for any shape or light outside of the area.

Something was there.

Keres froze, tendrils of terror constricting her chest and locking her limbs in place.

There was a figure standing beside the lamp post, just behind the fence. And it wasn’t human. Nearly as tall as the pole next to it, its form was grotesquely stretched, thinned and elongated beyond any natural capability. The head, thin and elongated like the rest of its body, was completely featureless and sickly white like deadman’s flesh.

Yet somehow, without any eyes or expressions to tell her so, Keres knew that it was looking at her. The ambient world faded away, leaving her no familiar comfort while she faced this figure. Blood rushed in her ears and her ragged breathing came quick and shallow. She knew that it was looking at her, but there was more to it. It knew her. She could feel it in her bones, the invasive knowledge of her mind that it possessed.

It knew. It knew everything.

Panic buzzed on the edges of her vision like static and all she could see was that face. That expressionless, featureless face.

Keres suddenly couldn’t breathe anymore. Choked by her own fear, she wanted to crumble under the sightless gaze of this thing because standing under the weight of her own shame was too much.

Her knees buckled and she hit the ground. The collision jolted painfully up her spine and the rush of blood in her ears climaxed to a shrill whine. She could not move, she could not look away, she could not speak.

“Keres!!”

The word echoed faintly around her, holding no meaning as it faded away and became part of the static hellscape.

“Keres!!!”

Firm hands grabbed her shoulders as her name rang out again.

Everything stopped. The shrill whine of bloodrush, the black dissolving the edges of her vision, the fear-locked limbs, all of it stopped as her mind was slammed back into the reality she didn’t know she had been pulled from.

Free will suddenly coming back to her, Keres desperately drew in a breath, filling lungs that had been too constricted by fear to act on their own accord. She keeled forward onto the crumbling pavement, catching herself on her elbows as he coughed roughly and sucked in air. The hands on her shoulders provided a steady pressure and banished the spell of isolation from before.

“Keres!! Can you hear me? Keres, answer me!!” Oliver shouted, voice gripped tight with concern. His fingertips dug into her skin, almost as terrified as she was.

“Where did it go?” she gasped.

She lifted her head to scan the fenceline, and upon not seeing the figure, another shock of fear lanced through her body and her insides roiled violently with adrenaline.

As she twisted to find the phantom attacker, Oliver caught her by the shoulders once more and spun her to face him.

“Keres, what are you talking about?” he snapped, using one hand to make a large, sweeping gesture around them, “There’s no one here!”

That made her pause, staring back at her brother with hunted eyes. She saw her own fear reflected and magnified in his eyes, clearing the racing thoughts the residual panic was flooding her mind with. Traces of fear still remained, but it was now hidden away out of sight, festering until it could be triggered later.

She took an anxious glance around them and whispered, “You didn’t see it?”

Oliver shook his head. Some of the tightness left his shoulders as he carefully let her go now that the urgency of whatever fit she was having had passed.

“There was no one there,” he replied carefully, “I just turned around and you were kneeling on the ground, but you weren’t breathing and you just kinda went rigid.”

They stayed silent for several moments, each looking intently at the other as if they could find the answers underneath the fear in eachothers eyes. While Oliver’s face was struck by concern, Keres’s remained a mask and showed only what she could afford to express. How could she explain what she had seen, what she had felt? It was built on so much that she had kept hidden that to talk about it would require her to bare her soul, and Keres couldn’t do that. If she wasn’t convinced before, now she was. That other being had known her and all she felt was judgment and shame. She was almost crushed by the weight of that knowledge, of the stranger that showed her how revolting her true nature was. How much harder would it be to show that to someone who she cared about? To reveal the twistedness inside and still ask to be loved? It wasn’t possible. As things were right now, at least she was able to pretend that she was faking just as well as everyone else.

Drawing in a long, steady breath, Keres finally crushed what was left of the fear and met her brother’s eyes with a firm gaze.

“I’m okay now,” she said, “I’m sorry I scared you.”

However, Oliver’s fear would not simply be brushed aside. He had not seen the being, he didn’t know that this was something personal.

He shook his head in response and said, “I think you had a seizure or something. We really should get you to the hospital-”

“No,” she cut him off. The last thing she wanted to do was be stuck in a hospital for hours, only to be told nothing was wrong with her. Keres knew that the problem wasn’t physical.

“I think I just locked my knees,” she lied, “I’m fine now, really. Let's just get into the room so I can sit down.”

Conflict visibly flickered across Oliver’s face. Keres was too drained to argue, however, so when he didn’t make any move to insist on anything contrary to her wishes, she reached over and took the key from his limp fingers. Slowly, she turned her back on the fence line, now shadowed with a dull city glow, and stepped up to the motel door. The knob rattled loosely in the door, but it let her in, stale air drifting past her as the door swung inward. Keres didn’t look back at her brother, whose eyes she felt on the back of her neck, and went straight to the bathroom. She rested her elbows on the greasy, discolored linoleum for a moment, rubbing at her temples.

“I’m fine,” she chanted to her haggard reflection, “I’m fine, I’m fine.”

The girl in the mirror solemnly shook her head in response, the lies rolling off the glass like water droplets. They both knew that wasn’t true and hadn’t been for some time. Frustrated, Keres stared into blank eyes, tears welling up and clinging to her lashes. Why couldn’t she make that true? She looked down, unable to look at the lies the reflection showed her, and turned the worn faucet. The water gurgled out and splashed in the stained basin, swirling hypnotically around the slow drain. Cupping her hands beneath the flow, Keres brought the cool water to her face and washed it over her skin. She let it trickle down her neck and drip off her nose, grounding herself in these sensations as she tried to find any emotion left inside her after what had just happened. Like the sink, she numbly wondered if all the emotions had drained away, leaving her a stained shell. Everything would come back, it always did, but somehow she knew that she wasn’t in charge of the faucet anymore.

Straightening, Keres spared one last look at her reflection, at her hollow face, and left the bathroom. Oliver was laid out on one of the beds, watching something on the TV. His face wasn’t quite relaxed, his whole demeanor seemed troubled, and more so when he heard her exit the bathroom. He tensely sat up a little, watching her with apprehension. He opened his mouth to say something as he swung his legs off the edge of the bed, but Kere held up a hand to stop him.

“I’m fine,” she said, the lie coming easily after so much practice. Drawing some power from the dregs of emotion in her gut, Keres offered him an easy smile as she sat down on her bed.

“I’m sure I’ll feel better in the morning.”

Oliver nodded and returned her smile with a relieved grin of his own, the tight lines of worry in his face easing a little at her false assurance.

“I’m glad,” he responded quietly, “You really scared me back there.”

Keres looked into her brother’s eyes and saw the pools of fear her episode caused that haven’t yet drained away. Nodding, Keres smiles at him again, lightening her expression so that she won’t be able to see fear reflected in his eyes anymore.

“I’m sorry I scared you. I don’t know what happened, but I’m sure you won’t see it again.”

He smiled at her and laid back down, loudly yawning as he settled back against the mattress. The springs groaned as he moved and Oliver winced in disgust at the sound. Keres mimicked him, laying down on her own lumpy bed, and stared at the buckling popcorn ceiling. The two laid in sleepy silence for quite some time, food forgotten now that both of them were too tired to have an appetite.

Eventually, her brother got up and got ready to go to bed, flicking on lights as he went. Keres closed her eyes and sighed, pushing herself up to a chorus of squeaking springs and slid off the bed. She felt like a mimic, an echo that followed behind Oliver’s actions as he went through his evening routine. It felt strange, but she couldn’t bring herself to care about it.

In a few minutes, everything was done and they were both ready to go to sleep. The two slid into bed, and Oliver clicked out the light after wishing a goodnight to his sister. Keres hummed in response and lay in silence, listening to her brother’s breathing slow as he fell asleep. The darkness pressed in on her, thickening until it was almost palpable. It wrapped around her like a bad promise and fear resurged within her as it writhed around her. Huddling under the blankets, Keres closed her eyes and submitted to the fear, allowing it to crash over her until she fell into an anxious half-sleep

#slenderverse #slenderman #creepypasta #creepypasta fandom #creepypasta fanfic #original character #dark fic #horor #fanfiction #fanfic #oc #no beta #no beta we die like supernatural extras

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loosingmoreletters · 11 months

Note

Hi! Sorry to drop into your asks so soon again, but would you continue that SAO AU for me? Pretty pretty please?

I love your ficlets, thank you for writing!

oh, please feel very welcome in my asks! I'm sure happy to know someone loves my writing so much. And here you go! Let's look at baby wangxian.

Part 1 | 2

Wei Wuxian had yet to kill anyone in this death game, but the moment he could get his hands on Wen Chao, he’d wring his neck. He wouldn’t use his sword or any talismans, anything from his stats. Only his raw strength. He’d make him feel all the artificial pain until it burned.

His health bar wasn’t looking like he’d get a chance to confront Wen Chao, however.

It looked disappointingly like he was going to die in this boss fight. At least Jiang Cheng and the others had made it out. They could retry this fight after they’d gone a couple levels up. Wei Wuxian had no idea whether the level reset once they die, but if it didn’t, maybe he should empty out his storage, not that he had anything particularly useful in there.

“How are you, Lan Zhan?”

His companion sat as still as he had for the last hour. His health bar was only slightly better than Wei Wuxian’s, courtesy of Gusu’s stat boost the sect’s members got whenever they adhered to their rules or something, Wei Wuxian honestly didn’t know. Yunmeng came with a wicked weapons’ skill he’d abused nearly to the point of breaking game mechanics.

Maybe he should’ve gone with the Nie to get their berserker skill. That could’ve saved them, maybe.

“Lan Zhan,” Wie Wuxian called out again. “Are you done ignoring me yet?”

Lan Zhan exhaled. “I have not been ignoring you.”

Score!

Wei Wuxian grinned. “That’s what it looked like from here. So, you got a plan for how you want to spend your last hours?”

Lan Zhan’s face twitched only barely. You had to hand it to Wen Crop., they knew their shit. The neural transfer was near perfect.

“We will not die here.”

“We’re more than just a couple missions away from getting enough experience to fight the Xuanwu of Slaughter,” Wei Wuxian replied drily. “While I think Yunmeng’s motto is very encouraging, I’m not an idiot.”

No, they’d die here, in a plot irrelevant side-mission because fuck Wei Wuxian especially, apparently.

A whole year of this hell already and this was how Wei Wuxian would die, stuck in a terrible cave with a worse monster, without ever hugging his family close again. He wanted to cry, but the reaction wouldn’t do anything to fix his mental state.

“We can make up the lack of experience,” Lan Zhan said.

Wei Wuxian blanked. “What?”

Lan Zhan looked into the direction of the Xuanwu of slaughter before nodding confidently. “Marriage.”

Usually, Wei Wuxian found Lan Zhan’s carefully curated sentences hilarious, but he wasn’t following. “What do you mean?”

“Marriage allows spouses to share a skill,” Lan Zhan elaborated and activated his menu, pulling guqin strings from his storage.

Yeah, Jiang Cheng knew that. The ability sounded better than it was however, because it essentially only allowed one partner to borrow a skill while the other had to go without—

Oh.

“My weapons’ proficiency,” Wei Wuxian said. “You want it to what? Enhance the strings?”

“I think with the boost, my chord assassination could do significant damage.”

It was absolutely insane. Wei Wuxian exceled and these types of games because he had great instinct and was pretty quick at his math. He could calculate in a split second how much damage he’d need to deal and running his numbers, he could only come to one conclusion.

“It won’t be enough,” Wei Wuxian said. “Not that alone.”

“Mn.” Lan Zhan looked like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop, which wasn’t fair at all. Wei Wuxian enjoyed being a step ahead. “You can use my purification bonus.”

Right, that was what Gusu granted him. Pretty useful on nighthunts, even if slightly too defensive for Wei Wuxian’s tastes.

Still, laughter bubbled up his throat. “Sure, we can try that. Until death does us part, Lan Zhan?”

Lan Zhan grimaced, as much as Lan Zhan deigned to show such an expression anyway, and sent the marriage request. The pop-up window looked like a joke, all hearts and cutesy bunnies kissing. It was a miracle that Lan Zhan had sent a request like that. Wei Wuxian shuddered to think what the other marriage request pop up windows looked like if Lan Zhan chose that one.

“You can’t divorce me after this,” Wei Wuxian said. “We’d end up with a month-long penalty.”

“Wei Ying.”

“Yes?”

“Accept the request.”

#wei wuxian #mdzs #the untamed #lan wangji #wangxian #mdzs fanfic #fanfic #ask #enystis #there were blank marriage requests btw. lwj chose the cutesy one #also if someone asks me nicely to write fic for them i will #not to be pathetic but im starved for attention skjdfgksjfg

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marshalortega · 1 year

Text

tried and true-blue (part 1 of 2.)

julia ortega + sidestep, secret crush path, post-retri. minor retri spoilers. 3.5k so, the truth is this simply got way too long to reasonably and responsibly put into one thing. second part out tomorrow, probably, after I've edited it. till then, have some secret crush ramblings. hair pulling and crying and insulting are all love languages, btw. if you even care. AO3 LINK.

Here stands Charge: tired, worn, dressed for running—or fighting. She’s in your base, picking over your shit. Dark under her eyes like she hasn’t been sleeping. Like she’s been waiting. She walks quietly across the bare plain of the concrete floor, quicker than you’d like, slips past you right as you sidestep her, not looking away. Can’t let her take the advantage even for a second.

Rolling your shoulders, readying for something, not that it means much—you—pale bruised banged and sliced, her own teammate’s handiwork finally turning you a mottled blue.

Julia lets out a whistle. "You look like shit."

"Speak for yourself."

She scoffs. You try not to smile.

Instead she gives you her back—a lure—and picks over the open medical kit, the snapped off thread for stitches, the bloody tissues on the ground. "Angie did a number on you, huh?"

"Keeping tabs on me again?"

"Don’t need to," she turns, finally, looks you up and down again, and you feel it tap-tap-tap down your spine, "it was all over the news. Nice going, by the way. She’s on the warpath."

"So she doesn’t know?"

"Pretty sure if she did, she’d be here herself. And no, I haven’t told her. Or anyone." Yet, implied. You watch her face, her terrible face so impassive, that subtle disappointed smile cutting into the corner of her mouth, the way she’s still looking you up and down, fixating on the bold lines of the bar code, then up again.

"Need any help?" She says. So casual. Catching flies with honey again.

What’s her angle? Ask. Ask and watch.

"Why?" You cross your arms, trying for… nonchalant? Something dispassionate, unconcerned. You don’t succeed, the cold turning you to gooseflesh. "You turning to the dark side?"

"Ohhhh… not quite, but that’s an idea," There’s that cheeky wink you know so well. "Actually, I was thinking more about that slice on your leg. Looked nasty."

Shit. You make a point of putting weight on it, despite the throb and the ache and the blood dripping sluggishly down your leg.

"It’s taken care of."

Julia snorts. "Which is why you’re bleeding all over the floor, right?"

"Ever learn to mind your business, Charge?"

"Tsktsk–doing that again?" She hums, too fluid, switching gears, turning into something— sharper faster too close, Charge, and you spy the blue skinsuit under the hoodie, she came ready for— "Okay, Sidestep." You shiver again; that name so free, so fine, so sharp on her mouth. "Got me. You haven’t been returning my calls, so… I got worried."

"Yeah, right, you made it clear we weren’t allies."

"But we’re still friends."

Liar. She takes a step forward, you two steps back. Your lips are tugging–up, up into a sneer, a smile?

She’s playing you, baiting, you can see it in the loose slide of her body, hands in her pockets but shoulders straight, walking around the room like she owns the place.

"Do you even know what you’re doing?" You were always the one doing the stitching, before. Your steady hands patching her wounds so much better than your own.

She splays her arms out, always the performer. "I’m full of surprises. Now are you going to let me look at your leg or what?"

"How about, or what?"

"Or I kick your ass twice and then patch it up, pendeja."

You don’t want her to see you like this. It waits, pulses, holds, her eyes, her eyes on you, and you— skinsuit peeled off. boyshorts and chest still bound. Sweat smears your back, her looking you over—looking for the soft, vulnerable? the bare meat of your orange gut, bandaged and raw, places to strike first, incapacitating. And you don’t want her hands on you, touching you unburdened by barrier or armor.

But she’s next to you, kicking you in your undamaged shin toward the nearby, almost dilapidated couch, and that hard tap gets you moving, reminds you of old times; love taps and braid-pulling.

"I’m going, I’m going…"

The truth is, you hurt down to the bone, and collapsing into the couch feels fucking good, pressure finally abating. Julia grabs the medkit, packing up your mess of needles and thread and bandages first. While she shuffles around with that, you kick out your legs, reaching down to pinch at the laceration across your thigh. Not deep enough to be fatal. Shitty enough to impede. Argent hasn’t struck to kill yet, but maybe your back and forth has gone on too long.

But you can’t linger on that too long. Ortega sinks to her knees in front of you, moving your injured thigh to make room.

You try not to squirm. Her hands are hot, a little tingly with static, all charged up no doubt. She pulls a little at the wound, hissing out an ouch as she lays the kit out.

"Could’ve been a lot worse," you say, fingers twitching at your side. They’re awkward, useless, and you don’t know what to do with them. This is… new. Finally you put them on your other thigh, clinging at the flesh there. Stay still.

Has she–has anyone ever done this for you?

You don’t think so. Not like this. Unclinical. She’s not touching you like a tool to be fixed up; none of the cold unfeeling of a doctor’s grasp. None of the wrenching and yanking of–

No, better not to go down that train of thought.

Ortega runs her thumb over a bit of unwounded flesh, a sympathetic drag of contact right before she sets your skin on by dousing it in rubbing alcohol.

"Fuck–" you bite out, digging your nails in, body stiffening to not jerk or kick out. This part’s the worst.

Ortega looks up, apologetic, awkwardly smiling. "Sorry… you good?"

You nod, forcing your breath to stay natural, slow. "Yeah, I’m good."

"Okay, ready?"

"Just get it over with."

"Just get it over with…?"

"Just get it over with, asshole."

"I was looking for please, but," Julia waves the tissue forceps far too cheekily for your liking. "I guess that’ll have to do."

And she gets to work. Far better than you were expecting. You thought you’d have to correct her, or direct, or stop her from making some heinous medical error with your fucked up meatsuit, but her grip is steady and her stitches straight, and her concentrated frown burrows neat grooves above her nose, and have you never noticed it before? Maybe. It almost makes you forget the moment.

Bodyhopping spoiled you, using Angel to put back together Noa’s comatose body. The pull of thread through skin is a sensation you never quite get used to, but you know how to keep your body perfectly still through the worst of it. Sometimes you reach forward and brush a piece of hair out of her eyes, and she flashes you a thankful little look. Ortega, serious; concentrated; eyes on you.

"You know, you never asked."

"What?"

"To be allies. You never asked."

She doesn’t glance up at you, rhythmically tying your skin together. Doesn’t waiver. Doesn’t see you flinch.

Like you could’ve asked her.

You tap your fingers on your thigh. Try not to bounce your other leg. Ortega’s side presses up against it, half supporting herself on the block of thigh, and your muscles clench.

"Would there have even been a point?"

"I haven’t turned you in yet."

"Operative word: yet."

"Didn’t even try to turn me to the dark side, so to speak," she goes for absurdity. "Could’ve at least tried to butter me up a bit. Promise me endless riches on your throne of evil bones."

Changing gears, her voice takes on a serrated lightness, too close to how she is when she fights—talking as a distraction, talking as show, get you swept up in the snap-crackle of her laugh and her lightning until you’re close enough to get knocked ass over tits. And you're already sitting down.

Julia nods her head at you, beckoning your understanding, like she isn’t spewing straight bullshit–more than usual. Lord. She counts down her stitches, mouthing the numbers in spanish.

"First of all…" oh god, evil bones, you snort against your will. Fuck. "I don’t believe in thrones. Or the government. So fuck you. Second of all," you jut your finger at her, emphasis. Portray control. "Are you just mad I didn’t beg you to please, please be my little sidekick?"

"Hey," she grabs the thread between her teeth–oh god–and splits it off. Ties it neatly up. "I’m always down for some light roleplay if you want me to be the sidekick."

Jesus fucking Christ.

"So is that why you’re here? To get in on it? Seems like a trap, which is so you."

"If this was a trap…" Ortega puts on her worst smirk, reaching for the bandages; her body heat bleeds into you, through the skinsuit, and she sets her hand on your good knee to push and pull herself back. "You’re kind of screwed, no offense."

You don’t need her to tell you that.

She wraps you up neatly, slowly, careful not to pull too hard as she binds you with gauze.

"I’m not going to be on Los Diablos Weekly here, Charge. I think this gig’s a little out of your wheelhouse."

"Oh please," she slaps your knee–fuck!--asshole!--"the revolution won’t be televised? You’re not that cliche, and I’m not that shallow."

"And I don’t think you could keep up anyways." You say, just to be mean for the fucking leg.

Ortega scoffs, hard. She rolls to her feet with a small grunt of effort, knees popping a bit. Old woman. But, fuck, now you’re on the low ground, forced to crane your head back as she looms over you, glaring down hotly. "Because you’re doing so well on your own here."

"Good enough to kick your ass, Marshal, or did you forget?"

And before you can stop yourself or think or consider her, too close, how she moves, the way she’s— she’s in front of you, leaning down. Into you. Your space. But you don’t cede ground, leaning up halfway, punching a fist into the arm rest to push yourself up.

"Coward."

"The fuck did you just say to me?" you’re slapped, slack jaw. Wish she’d slapped you in true. Better than that.

You’re not a coward. You’re fucked up and bruised down to the bone, and you will never leave the room they kept you in, not till one of you blows sky high. But you’re not a fucking coward.

"You heard me."

Fight and release, you can feel it in your teeth, and her fists are sparking, currents of blue; your fists clenching at your side hard enough to hurt. Maybe it is all trap, and they’re outside now, dampeners on, fuzzing you out, getting ready to take you in, that sure won’t be fucking televised.

"What, you’re stalking me because I didn’t ask you out? Got a little crush on the new Sidestep?" You jab your hand in her chest, moving you more than it moves her, but it still feels good.

Stay here long enough to get a good angle for the exit, or a good angle for how to take her down (not like that) with a fucked leg (again) and your broken bruised battered orange flesh. Stay this way, maybe you can topple her over your shitty couch and— (fuck, move) get your hands on her sides. On her wrists. Get her down on the—

You jab at her again, a petty fucking thing, and she grabs your hand and pulls you close enough to sweep, to stab, to throttle, pinning your grab to the full set of her chest and pulls back, pulls— twists your wrist— FUCK.

Fuck. Fuck. Hold still. She pushes down harder on your wrist, bending you low, putting her other hand on your elbow. Your back is to her and your eyes on her fucking shoes, and a throb of pain shoots up your shoulder. If you move too fast she can turn it into a snap break, fuck, fuck. You breathe slow, purposeful, don’t lose control.

"Still think I can’t keep up?" She spins you around a little, just to make her point. "Who do you think you were fooling anyway, Sidestep? With your it’s my name crap."

"You."

Snarl, hold still, just need her to let— go— what a fucking Chen move (impressive, infuriating). She presses down on your elbow, harder, not letting up. The tension ripples down your shoulder, shrieking, a break waiting to happen. You’re going to punch her pretty white teeth in for this.

"Dumbass." She snaps, pushing you away. "One day you’re going to get yourself killed, and I won’t let that happen."

You topple on your feet and twist at the last second, breathless. You’re fucked up and exhausted, but fine, you can do this. You raise your hands, slip into a shitty stance in this shitty fucking moment, and if nothing else you’re going to make her mourn her pretty nose forever when you bust it through.

You think of–

Ten–god–ten years ago.

How many times did you fight like this? Useless things. Petty things. Boyfriends, plans, idiocy, masks. Ending in bar fights or sparring matches. Easier to work through the flesh than the mind with her; the deafening static, the endless battle of will.

Just like this. Fighting with her again, and isn’t it almost a relief, getting it all out like this? Finally, flesh on flesh, fist to fist, the wet smack of it. Those sunbloody days she was all white-hot anger and prying like a crowbar, yanking you back, back into personhood. Ripping your mask off herself when she said look at me, and how you both ended up laughing when she’d clattered your teeth in a spar and you’d smacked her in the side and it was all out, out, all that rage, all that whatever sitting between you both like an infected wound. Thinking of how she’d slide a sloppy kiss down your temple, arm dragging you close by the neck till you screeched and she said are we good?

And you were good.

You were so good. You were the best, and she was the best, and she was your best friend in the whole world, and you only touched her this close when you were fighting.

You slide back, tuck your guard in tight, what a rush.

"If you wanted your ass kicked twice, all you had to do was ask."

"Not taking the initiative again. This is getting old." She splays her arms out, taunting, grinning.

Hot anger curls up your spine. Trying to drive you to do something stupid. And you know that, you know she is, you know and you’re smart enough not to.

Technically, anyways.

You move, fast on your feet, just not as fast as her, sliding back at the last second to dodge her first kick, and slamming into her, shoulder and elbow to gut, vicious, bulldozing, leg screaming, stitches stretching, blood cracked and sticking down-down-down the back of your knee, but first this, first her, first grabbing her by her hair and smothering her, pULLING–

The grab turns into a grapple turns into Julia’s fist in your kidney again. Again. Fuck. Pulses— pain— not enough to get you to let go though, not even close, and her palm catches on your jaw to shove your head, kindergarten shit. You slap at what you can reach, turns out to be the meat of her shoulder, and you fucking asshole, one of you says, but you aren’t sure who. Blurring. Wet. Flesh on flesh.

She tears loose. And slides back.

Too much distance. Get your hands. Get your hands on her shoulders, push her into the wall, brace your arm on her throat and the other on the fist that reaches to grab-pull-punch you, her skull lifted up to keep against the concrete, a laugh wrenched out of her like a nail from a hammer.

"Fuck you, Julia." You rasp, shaking, barely registering the flicker of lightning stinging your skin, and she smirks, fucker, fuck, shit, letting you do this, you can’t win, not really, just claw and snarl and want—

She leans in, against your grasp, straining, and you, you idiot, you lean in too, feel the faintest brush of her nose and the sharp-hot flush of her skin almost almost almost on yours.

"You don’t have the nerve."

Your skin throbs, vision blurs, heart pounds brutal enough to feel, to feel her pressed against you, her breath rattling under your palm, and HER (lovely) heart pounds brutal enough to feel, skin, almost skin on skin, your skin bared, your teeth bared, and the vicious glare she gives, the challenge screaming in your ears, the eyes, the eyes on your? her? lips, and she is so close, close enough to—

You don’t know who moves first this time.

You slam her back again, let go of her hand to wrap yours in her hair, and it still hurts, she digs her fingers into your waist to the quick and under your skin it rips loose, and—

her mouth.

Her mouth is on yours.

Warm. Soft. Not biting. Not dragging. Not ripping. The mind is screaming but the kiss is gentle, and whatever throttle you thought you had in you slides into a hold, into your hand on the side of her neck, into your thumb on her jaw and her palm snaking across your back, bare skin, raw enough to make you want to gasp-crack-cradle. Your skin and all the lights on and her.

An arm around her neck, fingers in her hair, pulling pulling wanting, and you can’t win, but you can slide your mouth open, let her tilt your head back, deepen the kiss while your lungs scream, too tender for the both of you, desperate enough to hurt still.

And–it’s too–much.

You shove yourself off, away, gasping hard and turning your back to her. The kiss has ended you quicker than any fight, and what the fuck, what the fuck was that?

"Fuck…" you let out, stun-silent.

There is nothing more coherent you could say.

"I’ll say…"

And she starts laughing.

You look over your shoulder with some amount of horror. What is so fucking funny about this? Was it– bad? Was it weird? Of course it was fucking weird. This is weird as shit.

"Sorry– oh boy–" she leans back into the wall, putting her hand to her forehead. "I’m not laughing at you, I’m–"

Something cracks open, drains like an infection, like ten years. It feels good. It feels better than anything you’ve felt in a long time. Next thing you know you’re laughing too, a low, dry, unused thing that comes out quick and barky.

"Who… won? That?"

"I don’t know," Ortega gives you a look so devastatingly soft, it could strike you dead if she wanted it to. "If you wanna do that again I’ll say you won."

"What, fight?" You say, because you’re very stupid.

"Yeah, Noa," Julia sighs, because she also thinks you’re very stupid, "fight."

"I don’t…" your brain is melting. It’s melting right out of your ears. Your legs feel weak, maybe a bit from the blood loss, and chances are Julia tore up her own handiwork, but, god, she’s looking at you like you’re not…

Not you? Too supple, too at ease, a popped cork.

You stumble back, too much, it’s all crashing down, in, all that time, did she want you? Want you like you wanted her? And her face, so open, always too open and yet so horribly unreadable, calls you back like a rolling tide. Julia, slanted angles, shattering light; what’s blackened in you roils and crawls, bending toward what little she can give you.

"You don’t have too. We can just… stay. Right here."

"Can we just…" you feel sick, your stomach rolling as your arms open up all the same. She steps forward so eagerly into you, and somewhere in this, your arms slide tight around her shoulder and her neck, faces pressed at the side.

Her exhales roll hotly down the top of your spine, static jumping as she squeezes you hard, vice-like.

Tension and release.

A pain crawls up the back of your throat, wounded animal noise you can’t swallow back as she slides kisses messily at your temple, your jaw, on your ear and in your hair.

Again you mourn not hearing, not knowing what’s running through that heady skull of hers.

Bury. Close. You cling just as hard.

"So…" she says against your neck, "are we going to talk about this?"

"Absolutely not." You don’t want to talk. You don’t want to look at this, or figure out what it means. Maybe it’s a kind of hurt making you so sick; was all that time wasted? All that minor agony useless? You’d been half-delirious with it. Driven to the madness of a kind glance and a familiar swallow.

Heartbeats pass between you, uncounted. Maybe minutes, or hours, or seconds, but when her breathing hitches and slides at an angle, and she sniffles almost wetly in your ear, you pretend not to notice, clenching your fingers into her hoodie.

"Huh…" she breathes hard, each inhale pressing tightly against your own, "truce, then?"

You crush her closer.

"Yeah."

And she says, because she’s an idiot: "I missed you."

#julia ortega #ortega #fhr #sidestep #fhr fanfic #mine**#staring at the second half of this that's still about 3k is like. what am I doing. why can't I be normal.#is it not enough to write Ortega getting boned? can't it be a normal little 1.5k event?#No. It must be egregiously long and plowed through like Noa's plowing Ortega #(in a second anyway)

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