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reidreaders · 5 months

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Spencer Reid, Celebrity Crush

Summary: Every now and then, you see this FBI agent on TV and you have been crushing on him for years. What happens when you finally meet him in real life?

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: use of y/n, they are both really awkward lol, it's like soon to be idiots in love yk, not proof read, idk what else lmk if I missed anything.

A/N: this idea has been rotting in my brain for so long and I finally decided to write it lol. I had sooo much fun writing this so lmk if you a part 2!!! Enjoy!!!!

MASTERLIST

Your favorite time of night was when you and your roommate would gather around the TV to watch the five o’clock news. This might not seem like totally normal behavior for two women in their twenties, but you guys didn’t tune in to keep up with what was going on in the world. Rather, you tuned in every night to hopefully catch a glimpse of the man of your dreams. It’s fair to say that most people have a celebrity crush, although normal people are usually infatuated by famous singers, movie stars, and the like. Not you however, the man that you pined for was a local FBI agent. Your roommate would even go as far as to say that he doesn’t count as a ‘celebrity crush’ because he’s not even famous, but he was to you.

You grew up not far from Quantico, meaning that the nightly news was always full of stories about the town’s own personal superheroes, the FBI. You had never been particularly interested in anything having to do with them, until you started hearing about the Behavioral Analysis Unit. You had seen a clip of one of the agents tricking a bystander into proving he was lying on TV, and you instantly fell in love. So, when you sat down to watch the news, you were more than excited to hopefully see him.

You had gotten lucky tonight. The news ran stories about the BAU almost nightly, but it was rare you got to see anyone other than the blonde woman they called Agent Jareau. But tonight was different. You practically screamed when you saw him come on screen, not even paying attention to whatever psychopath he was talking about. Instead, you focused on how his lips moved when he spoke, and the way the breeze outside the police station lifted his hair just ever so slightly. Needless to say, you were practically swooning. You were captivated by his big brown puppy eyes, his mop of messy brown hair, and the way he seemed so passionate about whatever he was talking about. It may have been the delusion talking, but you were pretty sure that if you ever met him, he would fall in love with you too.

A few weeks later, you were rushing to get to work on time. Your alarm hadn’t gone off when it was supposed to, leaving you frantic. Normally, you woke up early, giving yourself time to make breakfast and enjoy a cup of coffee. But today the fates had decided that you would have to settle for a cup of coffee and a croissant to go from the coffee shop down the street from your office.

You placed your order and began to fumble through your purse looking for your wallet.

“Sorry,” you mumbled to the cashier, who seemed to be growing impatient, “It must be in here somewhere.”

After looking for a few more minutes, and creating a giant line of annoyed customers behind you, you had come to the conclusion that in your rush to get out the door this morning, you had forgotten your wallet. Just as you were about to give up and leave the coffee shop, hungry and tired, a familiar voice piped up from behind you.

“Here,” he said, handing the cashier his card, “I’ve got it.”

“Oh my gosh thank you so much!” You said, not yet looking up from your bag.

“It’s no problem really,” He extended his hand to you, “I’m Spencer.”

Oh.

You quickly realized where you had recognized that voice from. He was Spencer. As in Spencer Reid, the FBI agent you were so hopelessly in love with. This was your chance. You had to play it cool. You couldn’t have him realizing that you were some freak who was obsessed with him, you wanted to land a date.

“H-hi!” You stuttered, a little more excitedly than you were hoping to, “I-I’m Y/N.” You reached out to shake his hand, your own becoming a little clammy at the sight of him.

He was tall. Much taller than he seemed to be on TV. You looked up into those big brown eyes you had gazed into through the screen and thought you were going to throw up because of how nervous you were.

“Um-” You cleared your throat, “Do you-uh-do you work around here?” You said in an attempt to seem calm, cool and collected.

“Uh yeah I do. I work for the FBI, so it’s just up the road.” He said, seemingly chuckling at your behavior a little bit.

“Oh! That’s cool! I work just up the road too! Although it’s nothing as exciting as what the FBI must be like I mean-” You were cut off by the barista calling your name, saving you from your incessant rambling.

You collected your coffee and turned to head towards the door, stopping to thank Spencer once again. Just as you were about to leave, you got a wave of courage. There was no way you were going to completely blow this opportunity. I mean, you have had a crush on this guy for forever and there was no way you were going to walk out of here without at least trying to ask him out.

“Hey,” You said much more calmly, “I know we literally just met, and I have been babbling like a freak at you, but I was wondering if you might want to have dinner with me sometime?” You asked, your voice getting higher as you spoke.

“Oh-um,” He sputtered back, clearly taken aback by your proposition, “Um… yeah?” He said it like a question.

“I mean, if you’re not into it that’s totally okay,” you feigned a chuckle, trying not to seem as embarrassed as you actually were, “I just thought it might be nice to uh-um pay you back for the coffee!” You spoke through the world’s fakest smile.

“No!” He practically shouted at you, “I’m into it! I am definitely into it.”

Before you could catch yourself, you were giving him the biggest smile you think you’ve ever managed.

“Great!” You weren’t even trying to hide your excitement anymore, “Here, I’ll give you my number and we can try to set something up!” You said as you wrote your number down on one of the coffee shop’s napkins.

“Y-yeah! That sounds great. I’ll-uh I-I’ll call you!” He stuttered, it was becoming clear that you weren’t the only one who was nervous.

The two of you made your way out of the coffee shop, taking turns stuttering and rambling at the other. You were starting to feel less self conscious about your earlier performance because it seemed as though he had a tendency to be awkward and ramble as well.

“Well, I should probably get to work.” You sighed, not wanting the encounter to end.

“Yeah me too.” He chuckled.

The two of you just stood there for a moment, staring at each other, trying to figure out what to do next. You didn’t want to have to make another move, considering you were the one to ask him out. However, it was becoming apparent that he was too shy to do anything, so you moved closer to him. He made no effort to put any more distance between the two of you, so you took that as your go ahead. You leaned in and threw your arms around his neck, giving him a semi-awkward hug goodbye. He wrapped his arms around you and you realized that you could smell him. All those years of looking at him on TV and yet you never wondered what he might smell like. You were pleasantly surprised. Not that you thought he would smell bad, just that you were used to men who thought that Axe body spray was the same thing as a shower. But Spencer didn’t smell like that, he smelled like old books and good cologne. Like, real, expensive, good cologne.

You realized that you were lingering in the hug for a little longer than what would probably be considered normal, so you pulled away.

“Well, uh, I’ve got to get going,” He blushed and looked at his feet, “But I’ll definitely call you.” He said holding up the napkin with your number on it.

“You better!” You joked, now blushing as well.

With that, he turned and went on his way to work. You stood there for a moment longer, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. You reached into your bag and pulled out your cell phone, dialing your roommate’s number. It rang twice before she picked up.

“Y/R/N, you are never going to believe what just happened!” You squealed into the phone, ready and willing to relay the story to your best friend.

You hung up as soon as you got to the office, and spent the rest of the day unable to focus on work, your brain preoccupied just praying that he would actually call you.

I'm literally obsessed w this lol lmk if you want a part 2 or anything else bc my requests are open!!

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid imagine

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siryouarebeingmocked · 9 months

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God Of War Ragnarok spoilers

God Of War Ragnarok: Mimir doesn't know what "olives" are, because he wouldn't encounter them in Nordic or Celtic realms, geographically speaking. GOWR: Also, Thor is fat because he has a big appetite in the myths. GOWR: Also, here's a minor character who's the legendary first king of Denmark.

Someone: Are you going to explain why Angrboda is a black girl with a black granny in a Norse tale, when she's a redheaded white lady in the myths?

GOWR: No.

I wrote this post because some idiot in Youtube comments said Angrboda in GOWR makes sense because the Greeks didn't have any concept of race. Which is a stupid argument. Especially when the ancient Greeks and Romans *did* have a concept of "us" and "barbarians" (everything else). Pretty much any modern person would look at the description of those categories and go "oh, yeah, that's race". Xenophobia is usually treated as identical to racism.

Or at least it lives next door, and frequently comes over to borrow racism's power tools. This idiot also completely failed to discuss the Norse side of the equation. I'm pretty sure Norse knew what race was.

Then again, the person may have been trying to imply why Kratos wouldn't reject Angrboda because she was black. Which would still be a stupid argument, because the idiot did that by making a race-based generalization about Ancient Greeks to imply race isn't real, instead of talking about Kratos.

Kratos has traveled from mythological Greece to mythological Nordic lands. He married a local, and calls a Celtic deity his best friend, along with two dwarves as regular friends. Kratos, personally, does not care about race. He cares about the content of people's character. And when he meets Angie, she's already risked her own life and safety to help save the day. From a character design standpoint, I think they wanted to make Angrboda a contrast to Thrud Thorsdottir, Thor's daughter, and Loki's other love interest. Thrud seems more mature, mentally and physically.

She's a much more dramatic and attention-getting presence, down to her hair. Her weapons are a giant cleaver and a club. She also lives in the heart of Asgard, a populated city, while Angie lives alone in a hidden realm.

And she has red hair. Like her dad.

There's other contrasts, but I've already talked too much. There's also a fan theory that Loki and Angie's daughter Hela was half-white, half-dark in the myths, so you could (really) stretch that to "half-African". Even though she's widely described as "half blue". As in, "the color of dead flesh". There's a theory that Angie is descended from "foreign" gods, just like Atreus, but I don't think the game confirms it. /actual black guy PS: I also happened to find a 1996 Usenet argument when someone asked why Tuvok from Star Trek Voyager is black. And the people responding sounded exactly like modern racebending-defenders, including the same "well, race isn't even scientifically REAL!" smuggery*. https://groups.google.com/g/alt.tv.star-trek.voyager/c/LVTQMd25J1U?pli=1 Which is ironic when these same people act like anyone who asks or complains about racebending is racist. How can racism exist if race isn't real? * There was also the ol' "you must be a troll (because your opinion made me upset)". Except that one was posted in 2018. I'd mock that person for responding to a 22-year old thread, but I'm making a post about it, and putting more effort into these few lines than they did.

#god of war #racebending #long

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miredinmiddleearth · 2 years

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Rings of Power, Ep. 6 Review - All Sense of Sanity Has Departed

I swear I wasn’t going to watch another episode. I even planned a hangout with friends so I’d have a reason not to. What I hadn’t accounted for was the fact they knew about my reviews, and they wanted to watch the next episode with me, specifically to laugh at my misery. My friends are so cruel.

So here are my thoughts on episode six:

1. There are so many speeches to crowds in this series meant to get people riled up. One, they’re kind of boring and forgettable. Two, even the orcs get one? Goody.

2. The group of humans magically transport far from the watchtower to safety without being attacked by orcs. And they don’t keep running away?! Oh no. They want to defend their village. Fine.

But then Arondir says, “Our position gives us an advantage,” meaning the village is the advantage. I’m sorry, what? Tiny village in the middle of an open valley? Amazing tactical advantage. These villagers are idiots.

3. I’m so tired of the writers taking pieces of lines from Tolkien and twisting them into something that just doesn’t hit the same. That’s not paying homage. They’re stealing and mutilating.

4. Oh yes. I care so much about a romance between two people who combined have as much personality and character motivation as a carrot.

5. Dang! This episode went full-on gore.

6. They did the Galadriel beating the guards thing all over again. Start a battle with impossible odds, cut away to something else (in this case, Arondir and giant orc), cut back when it’s all over, because showing the actual fighting would be too unbelievable. And yeah, I STILL don’t buy their initial victory.

7. Man I was so disappointed Bronwyn didn’t die. On another note, their method of saving her is to remove the arrow, shove some seeds into the wound, then cauterize it? I have absolutely no clue why the seeds are necessary. What am I missing?

8. So the Numenorean cavalry has arrived in the Southlands and is rushing at full speed toward tiny village. Let me ask one more time, HOW DO THEY KNOW THE VILLAGE NEEDS HELP?!

Seriously, I want to know! Let’s recap. Galadriel gets sent away when all is calm and the elves are literally about to leave the south because it is so peaceful. She gets taken to Numenor and convinces them evil is returning without proof. Without sending a single scout or having ANY communication with the mainland (that I remember), they just take their whole cavalry to save the people who must surely be dying. All 30 of them in this tiny town in the middle of nowhere.

9. Galadriel looks less and less like an elf every episode.

10. Adar IS something of an orc! Sweet!

11. So they’re making Galadriel out to be pretty much evil (straight up murderous and maybe genocidal?!). I understand the want for character arcs and growth, but this feels a bit extreme. You can start a character from a dark place without turning them into a full-on villain.

12. Celeborn, come save your love from whatever is happening between Galadriel and Halbrand!! Like, I get it. I could fall for Halbrand’s face. But if this is Sauron, the implications are AWFUL. Galadriel goes from being a strong, heroic woman who chooses to fight for good for its own sake to a spurned girlfriend who has a beef with her ex.

13. More impressive than Bronwyn’s recovery is the fact that Arondir leads her around by holding her injured arm. Excellent nursing, dude.

14. Ohhhhhhhhh nooooooooooo. THE ENDING. The moment of ultimate idiocy. Are you ready?

MOUNT DOOM HAS AN ON SWITCH.

Oh but wait. It doesn’t just have an on switch. Mount Doom gets activated by WATER.

Insanity of all of that aside, at no point is the moment foreshadowed, which is such a shame! No lingering shots of a mountain in the distance or panning away to the mountain with a sense of foreboding. Nothing. Mountain just explodes because some water fell in the lava.

Sorry, I can’t believe Mount Doom has an on switch.

15. If the end isn’t a vision, I have so many problems with what’s happening. If the ending is a vision, I have so many problems with what’s happening. A sign of truly great writing.

Final thought: Something finally happened! Stupid something, but something! It took, what, six hours?

#lord of the rings #lotr #tolkien #jrr tolkien #rings of power #anti rings of power #rop #rings of power review #rant review #the one ring #the ring speaks

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the-frostiest-of-flakes · 11 months

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You Can't Just Piss in the Sewer PART 2

Summary Casey finds out about the sewer activities and decides to do something about it.

Word Count 785

Warnings None. It's just crack treated seriously.

Author's Note BEHOLD! The sequel no one asked for (including me)!

I have been haunted by this story ever since I made the first chapter. It was just supposed to be a oneshot but here we are. (I'm all done now though I prommy. It's out of my system)

The first chapter can be found here. And if you'd rather read the story on ao3, it can be found here.

✧⋆✧

A lot had happened to Casey Jones in the past year.

He had lost his job, met some teenage mutant ninja turtles, saved the world, got his job back…no big deal really. This was just his life now. Unfortunately, since it was supposed to be a secret, it left him with very few talking points when someone asked him what he had been up to lately.

Like right now, at his grandmother’s quarterly family dinner.

“Casey!” His grandmother exclaimed, ushering him over the threshold. Her apartment was small and cozy as always, with the aroma of fresh cooked food permeating the space. “Come in, come in – no, leave your shoes at the door. What have you been up to, my boy?”

“Just the same old same old,” he replied, slipping out of his shoes.

“Oh, something exciting must have happened, you’ve got such an important job after all. And we’re all very proud of you for not getting fired again.”

I’m never gonna live that down, am I? Inwardly sighing, he plastered on the most believable smile he could muster. “Nope. Nothing at all. It’s been completely normal, average work days for the past year.”

She hummed. “Shame. Well, run along, everyone is in the living room right now. I’ll be there in a minute.”

With that, the old woman scurried off, heading for the kitchen. Casey took a deep breath before plunging into the crowded living room, which was filled to the brim with his immediate and extended family. Grandma Jones’s dinner affairs were large, important events. No one wanted to miss out. Especially when doing so meant falling behind on family gossip.

A hand gripped his shoulder. Spinning around, he found it was his Uncle, Greg. “Hey, kid, I need to talk to you for a second.” The man pulled him aside before he had a chance to respond, lowering his voice so the others wouldn’t hear. “Listen Casey, I know what I’m about to say is nuts, and if your ma or pa heard it they’d throw me in the loony bin. So this stays between us, y’hear?”

“Uh, sure.” He wasn’t sure what his uncle was going on about, but he was one of the sanest, most truthful people he knew. Whatever it was, it couldn’t be that bad.

Greg took a deep breath, pausing dramatically. “I saw the Sewer Monsters.”

“The what?”

“The big green monsters that run around the sewers!” He flung out his hands. “I thought it was just an urban legend but…I saw them. I was workin’, doin’ a safety check, when I found them pissin’ in the sewer like animals.”

Casey’s blood ran cold. “What – what did they look like?”

“Like giant humanoid turtles. And there was another one that looked like a rat!”

He gritted his teeth. “You don’t say?” I’m going to kill those idiots.

“Just…make sure to keep an eye out for them. I don’t know how often they leave the sewer, but I don’t want them jumpin’ you on the job.”

“I’ll keep my guard up.” He gave Greg a nod and soft pat on the arm before turning to leave. “And thanks for telling me.”

—

Casey breathed out slowly through his nose, leveling his gaze with the four mutant turtles in front of him. He was going to chew them out, yes, but he knew damn well they wouldn't listen if he wasn't at least moderately calm.

"You can't go around using the sewer as your own personal urinal."

Mikey snorted. "I don't know if you've noticed, but it's a sewer, brah. It's not like we're peeing behind trees or something."

"That's not the point-" Movement from behind the line of turtles caught his eye. It was a certain anthropomorphic rat trying to sneak off. "Hey! You're a part of this too."

Splinter froze for a few beats, narrowing his eyes before reluctantly rejoining the group.

“You can’t just piss in the sewer because it’s disgusting. Donnie, you’re a genius with a high tech lab, but you don’t have a bathroom?! ”

“Well when you say it like that-”

“Wait–” A thought had occurred to him. “All those times you said I couldn’t use your bathroom because the toilet was clogged–”

“Was a lie. Yes. Try to keep up, Jones.”

He groaned, turning to leave and find himself a much more productive and relaxing use of his time. “Alright, whatever. Just get yourselves an actual bathroom.”

“Or what?” Raph piped up.

Casey could feel a smirk taking over his face as he pulled out his hidden trump card. “I’ll tell April.”

The cacophony that rose up behind him as he left the sewer was music to his ears.

#i have no excuses. i am a danger to society #frosted words #crack treated seriously #bayverse turtles #tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #casey jones #leonardo hamato #raphael hamato #donatello hamato #michelangelo hamato #master splinter #creative writing #fanfiction #ao3 link #funny

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eagledrawsandvibes · 2 years

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“Let’s go somewhere, you and me” with Shocksterio?

Ask and ye shall receive!

It’d been a while since they had a night like this: Quentin Beck and Montana not having to worry about the bug, just them joking and playing pool in Montana’s bar after hours.

“And so I said, ‘Oh but Spider-Man, you are in a pickle!’ And then I dropped a pickle prop on him!”

Montana let out a hearty laugh, messing up his shot, but it wasn’t like he cared. Quentin laughed along with him.

“Darling, I can’t tell whether you’re the funniest guy I’ve met or the stupidest.” He smiled at Quentin, his gold tooth shining in the light hanging over them.

“It could never be the latter, Mysterio is no idiot!” Quentin did a dramatic hand motion as if he were still in his Mysterio get up.

“There’s some people out there who could beg to differ.” Montana chuckled.

Quentin rolled his eyes. “Well, even though the spider got away again, at least I still got what I needed.”

Montana stood up from his position over the pool table. “Is that so? What was the job this time?”

He shrugged. “Otto just had me steal some machinery. It wasn’t easy but it’s better than that time he wanted me to get some money. Can you believe how difficult it is to open a vault while also juggling multiple illusions to throw at Spider-Man?”

Montana smirked, going back to lining up his shot. “Can only imagine, sugar.”

Quentin glanced away, grinning. As he paused, he began to think. Could this maybe be the night he would…but Montana wouldn’t…well, gotta find out.

“Hey, Montana?”

Montana stood up, facing him. “Yes?”

Before Quentin could open his mouth, he felt his stomach turning. He would always be in awe of the Enforcer, how his long russet hair flowed perfectly behind him. How his scars, while could be seen as unnerving, brought attention to his strength and resilience. His one scarred eye still managed to see so much in Quentin. He was the perfect man for him.

He shook his head. “Montana, let’s go somewhere, you and me.”

The Enforcer blinked. “Alright, sugar. Where’re we going?”

Quentin grabbed his hand. “I wanna show you something, something I’ve wanted to bring you to for a while.”

Montana smiled. “Sure then.”

***

It took a while of sneaking around, they were criminals after all, trying to avoid places where Spider-Man often swung around, and a lot of “Your place must be far, hun,” but eventually, the two got to just outside their destination.

Before the two went in, Quentin covered Montana’s eyes with his hands. “Now, now, no peeking just yet. It’s a surprise.”

Montana chuckled. “Alright then, I promise.”

Doing his best to navigate Montana around, Quentin led him to the surprise, trying to not cause Montana to trip.

Quentin stopped walking and removed his hands from Montana’s eyes. “So, what do you think?”

Montana stood in front of Quentin’s surprise, and what did he see?

A room, with a giant hole in the wall, or where there should be a wall, as a sort of window to all of Queens. The walls had paintings and stolen art hanging on them, with a rug in front of the hole. There were cabinets to the sides as well, with a rouge couch with two pillows on them. The hustle of the city sounded so distant, and the night sky above sparkled with stars.

Quentin Beck’s special abode, for his nights of peace.

“Not even Mason knows of this place. It’s not too much but—”

“Wow.” Montana walked a little bit around, observing the room. “How long did it take you to set this all up?”

“Oh, not much.” Quentin went and sat down on the rug, looking out towards the city. “I obviously had to steal some stuff, like the couch and art, and had to install the cabinets myself for just-in-case situations, it took a while.”

Montana looked back at Quentin and sat down next to him. “Y’know, despite the giant hole here, this place looks pretty well kept.”

“I actually like this view.” Quentin glanced over at Montana and then glanced back out. “It reminds me of how the world’s a stage, and someone out there is watching us perform. And us, the characters, set on a stage that, despite its troubles and flaws, can actually be beautiful. The stars are our stage lights, and the traffic below is our orchestra.”

Montana chuckled. “You’ve been rehearsing that one for a while, huh?”

Quentin rammed his head into Montana’s shoulder playfully. “Knock it off!”

“I’m kidding!” Montana laughed again.

The two looked back out up to the stars, observing how they shone and twinkled, clouds not being able to hide their beauty.

“I’ve wanted to take you up here for so long, ever since we started dating,” Quentin said, not taking his gaze off of the stars.

“Oh really?”

“Yes, well, it’s because…” Quentin turned over to Montana, placing his hands on the other’s hand. “I’ve just wanted to say that—”

Montana turned over to Quentin, meeting his gaze. “Enough.”

Montana grabbed Quentin’s chin and kissed him. Quentin’s eyes widened, but returned the kiss by grabbing Montana’s head and pushing further into the kiss.

A night to remember.

#asks #eaglewrites #tssm #the spectacular spider man #quentin beck #mysterio #fishborl #jackson brice #montana brice #shocker #shocksterio #fanfic

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thelibraryoferebor · 2 years

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Oneshots... again

The aim is a regular posting schedule (once every week or fortnight or so), but right now I have just a mega amount of one shots (like seriously you guys aren't prepared for what's coming. So enjoy! ~H

Put Me Down! By Resacon1990

|| general - 1.8k - completed ||

Bilbo groans as Thorin continues to yell insults up at Beorn.

"You giant oaf!" he calls, "put him down! He clearly doesn't want to be hanging from your meaty claw!"

Notes: I feel like most everyone knows this fic, but if you don't then you definitely need to read it. It's so fluffy and funny and wonderful. Thilbo centric.

Clementine by TenTomatoes

|| general - 6.4k - completed ||

In which Bilbo Baggins left a hobbit lass behind him when he joined them on this quest and Thorin doesn't care until he does.

Notes: This is also Thilbo centric and is a great example of just how much of an idiot Thorin can be. I love it so much.

Back, and There Again… by HiddenKitty

|| teen - 8.3k - completed ||

Belladonna has been waiting for her only son Bilbo to join her in Yavanna's pastures for many years, but it doesn't quite turn out the way she'd hoped. It seems love and adventures can change a hobbit in quite different ways.

Endless, endless thanks to H. Savinien for their wonderful beta-ing!

Notes: I haven't read this one too many times cause it's a little angsty, but I do like it a lot, all things considered. Thilbo centric.

Adventures in Prince Sitting by Lumelo

|| general - 4.1k - completed ||

Looking after your nephew for half a day isn't that big of a deal, really. Except when said nephew happens to be a prince of Durin's line, second in line to the throne, and really quite the destructive little beast for something that's only known how to walk for a few months. His Highness is lucky he's cute, really.

Nori really isn't sure why Ori thinks he can handle a baby. Fortunately, he can always make Dwalin help him, or else.

Notes: Nwalin focused, with a side of Fiori and Thilbo. I can't ever decide if I like Dwalin/Nori or Dwalin/Ori more. Maybe we should have a vote... But either way, I love this fic, especially since it highlights two characters that don't typically get the limelight (also baby dwarrow).

Trouble with Faces by Resacon1990

|| teen - 3.6k - completed ||

A quick trip to the elven traveller of the month was enough for the entire Shire to realise that Belladonna and Bungo Baggins had a face blind son.

Notes: This one isn't as well known as some of the others on the list, but it's so soft and I adore every bit of it.

The Age of Miscommunication by SilverSkiesAtMidnight

|| teen - 6.6k - completed ||

“It’s got such a presence to it, even from a distance,” Bilbo says softly, and there’s a general murmur of awed agreement from the others. “Why, in all my fifty years, I never thought I’d see such a thing, and we haven’t even arrived yet!”

Thorin’s sword hits the ground with a clatter, and Balin chokes on his pipe.

The hobbit doesn’t look at Thorin, too busy thumping Balin on the back. Once the dwarf seems able to breathe again, he looks up, to find thirteen wide pairs of eyes fixed on him.

“What?” he says defensively, though he’s not sure what he’s defending.

“You’re how old?” Kíli squeaks.

Bilbo frowns at the young dwarf. “I’m fifty years old. Well, fifty-one, come springtime. Though it is not very polite to ask someone their age so bluntly,” he tells him primly.

Fíli makes a choked sound, and Nori lets out a vicious string of swears in Khuzdul.

Notes: CLASSIC ALERT. All I can really say about this fic is that if you haven't read it, that's a crime, and you must. This fic is a gen-you-ine staple, and I adore it. Thilbo.

All That Shine as Moonstone Leave a Discernible Mark by kay_cricketed

|| teen - 2.9k - completed ||

After the Battle of Five Armies, Thorin Oakenshield is determined to secure Bilbo's place in the world, even if he must make him a husband and a widower in the same hour to do so.

Notes: This one's simultaneously funny and saddd. All the feels, especially the faith Thorin has in Bilbo (this is Thilbo btw). Everything ends up fine, but it still destroys me.

To Choose a Consort by Thevaen

|| general - 5.1k - completed ||

''You really ought to look more interested, or at least pretend.'' Bilbo started, giving the Dwarf a slap against his arm at the look he received. ''And stop being such a child.'' Thorin smiled. ''They don't know me the way you do.'' A flutter exploded in the Hobbit's chest at the words. ''I doubt if there's anyone who is quite so skilled at interpreting expressions as you Master Baggins.''

Thorin had to choose a consort. He knew that, and he also knew he didn't want a consort that was not the Hobbit. He doesn't, and instead stubbornly waits for a sign that the Hobbit himself would be willing to be such. Bilbo in turn, knew he was more than a little envious of those that got the chance to present themselves in front of the Dwarven King, and that he was more than a little relieved when time after time, they were kindly rejected. He also knew that if he was being really honest, he really wanted to take on the spot himself.

Notes: This one's another classic and I love it too much to handle sometimes. The pining is lovely and it ends up so happily, and I just love it so much.

The Fine Print by airebellah

|| general - 6.3k - completed ||

It had been many years since Bilbo had seen his Dwarves. Driven by his loneliness and nostalgia, one night he decided to re-read the contract he had signed so many years ago, hoping to find catharsis. Instead, what he found was burning rage at all the ridiculous clauses the Dwarves had slipped in without his notice. In the end, Bilbo knew there was only one thing to do. He would travel to Erebor, and have very specific words with the King.

Notes: LMAO, this fic tho... It's just hilarious, and so very Bilbo. I love it so much, you guys have no idea.

Customary by an_odd_ducky

|| general - 3.4k - completed ||

Hobbits rub noses to greet each other - a fact the dwarves don't know until they arrive in Rivendell and Elrond greets a surprised Bilbo by rubbing their noses together. Some of the company find it quite amusing, but Thorin is less than pleased. Fluff! Fill for the Hobbit Kink Meme.

Notes: This one is so soft and fluffy, and Elrond (we love Elrond here) being knowledgable about Hobbit culture is such a vibe and we love that. Thilbo.

And another list done, the satisfaction is real you've got no idea. But anywhoooo, I hope you enjoyed! Any requests, just shoot me an ask or something. I'm also thinking about doing single fic in depth honest reviews. If that's something you'd be interested in seeing, just let me know! The Library is officially off of hiatus. Love you all!

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maguro13-2 · 7 months

Text

Death Vengeance ~ Origins of the Ink Demon Chapter 3 Pt. 8 (2/2)

"Kuro-san...Kuro-san!"

"What is it, Tsubaki?"

"Can you get what I am about to announce something?"

"I don't know, but sure! I'd like to hear it..."

"I decided to announce that, I'd like to make a proposal!"

"What did you propose for?"

"I propose you that I wanted to make my groom and I will be the bride!"

"So then, it's a promise?"

"It's a promise and I made it for you!"

Tsubaki Nakatsukasa : So, what if there wasn't any romance between me and anyone. I made a promise that I have a heart for someone that I even loved before I met another. So what if I was someone's bride and someone that is my groom. I may have courage that I wanted to become stronger and there's no way that I am gonna take it granted. So with that, I kept promise to the one I love before. Kuro-san. So now...[picks up Akujiki] To protect the ones that I really loved and keeping my promise...[pulls out the sword] I chose to kill another! [her eye turns red] Akujiki...Must feed off the true evil!

"Meanwhile back in 2003..."

Roxas : Ha! Those Nobodies were tougher than I thought. Traveling to the year 2003 was a such pain to get into this Time Travel stuff.

Bandit : Gutsy move, back there.

Roxas : So, you on your way to see Anubis?

Bandit : That's what where headed to. Pyramid Anubis. A tomb from the Soul World Manga, I believe that it was built right next the Pyramids.

Roxas : Pyramid Anubis from Soul World? That Pyramid from the Soul World manga?

Moirai Albarn : Yep, it's from Soul World.

Roxas : Well, umm, no dice, but I think Pyramid Anubis from Soul World was definitely sounds like a tourist trap, and on the other hand, it got destroyed by a mysterious "Golem" giant.

Bandit : So are you telling me that we came all the way to Egypt for a tomb from a Japanese manga that was demolished for some reasons? A giant "Golem" destroyed Pyramid Anubis? What does that have to do with Anubis from Soul World being destroyed as a heartless by a freaking Golem?

Roxas : Not just any Golem, "The" Golem. It's a giant that resides in one of them Pyramids,there are in which type of Pyramids, they got the Gizas, the Sphinx, the Sandopolis, Hidden Base level, and uhh--[record scratch] The Hidden Base Level? Egypt had no Hidden Base Level? Wasn't Egypt part of the Sonic Adventure 2 Story line?

Moirai Albarn : Might be!

[Strategy - Tomoya Ohtani]

Maka Albarn : So, Pyramid Anubis was destroyed by the Golem inside of that Pyramid called the Hidden Base Level? I thought it would be Sand Ocean or Sandopolis.

Moirai Albarn : Hey, Sand Ocean is the name of that Planet desert racetrack from F-Zero and Sandopolis is the name of that level from a floating island that somewhere weird that it's connected to Desert Palace Zone. So what you're saying that nobody goes into the old base that Eggman resides, because it is a fair warning into that old base of his. We believe that the Hidden Base level is...Haunted by Ghosts.

Maka Albarn : And I heard that it contains a Rocket from Nasa that Eggman stole it from Florida.

Bandit : So that mustache moron just stole a rocket ship from Nasa. Probably that mad scientist knows how to play Grand Theft Auto...Sonic Style. But one thing's for sure about the Hidden Base...[whispers into Roxas' ear]

Roxas : What?! Why didn't anyone tell me that the Hidden Base Pyramid was on a Floating Island the entire time and nobody mentioned it?! That's always a comeback that really pushing up the story. Why would one scientist that has a base that is located on a Floating Island?!

"Flashback to 2001..."

Dr. Eggman : Those idiots will never find my base hidden inside this pyramid. Which is located on the same island that I crashed into.

"Back to the present"

Roxas : Oh yeah, that explains the Space Colony Ark Incident two years ago. Pretty much to figure this one out. Inside the Pyramid can be dangerous to visit, so sure if it's not illegal.

Bandit : I Just have to borrow Tornado 3 from Tails. But someone will do the Hidden Base Zone thing.

Moirai Albarn : Time for me to find the Entrance.

[Down the Base...for Hidden Base - Jun Senoue]

Penny Crygor [via radio] : Hey, Ash. How things holding up in Egypt?

Ashley : Not much as it's hot out here in the sun. This place totally make me sweat. This must be the Homeland of Anubis. I heard that the tomb Pyramid Anubis was destroyed by the hands of that Golem. Which resides in the Hidden base Pyramid.

Penny Crygor [via] : Right, right! So that's what really happened to Pyramid Anubis, oh well. It was an ugly tomb designed by the author of Soul World anyway. Now about that, the Necromancer Witch Samantha should be here somewhere and it's gotta be inside the Pyramid, not the one that got demolished pretty bad by the Golem, ain't it?

Ashley : Oh yes. She's only inside that one pyramid that has to be Hidden Base. Hmm, but that place seems familiar, wasn't that the same pyramid that was on Angel Island about years ago? I guess it's the same location as the Sandopolis one?

Penny Crygor [via radio] : What? Are you talking about that Sandopolis Pyramid thing? Of course it has to be the first haunted themed level since Genocide City was supposed to be the first haunted themed level before Sandopolis does. It was occupied by the Echidnas before Eggman took over it and turned into his Hidden base. So much details that the animals inside of his capsule contain one supernatural feeling. The animals from Sonic have turned into horned ghosts called Hyudoros. Yep. Some say that Pyramids can be haunted nowadays, I wonder why they put a number of Ghosts reside in a pyramid?

Ashley : That's Sega's Idea, ask them. They know how they put Ghosts in Pyramids. That's their call.

Penny Crygor [via radio] : Okay, we'll get that out of their system, but right now, we need more focus on getting to that into that Pyramid! It's crawling with security and G.U.N robots.

Ashley : Copy that, I'm in pursuit. This is a detective's job to handle the case, and It's our responsibility to take action!

[a montage of Ashley and the group chat around the Hidden Base level until they meet at the Goal Ring near the entrance]

Ashley : Alriyghtght this must be it. I'm finally at the entrance to ythe pyramid, but despite the Goal Ring that is sitting in the middle of a helipad. This must be the right spot.

Penny Crygor [via radio] : Good. Samantha might be inside the pyramid. So let's crack the entrance wide open!

Maka Albarn : Excuse me, but are you really...

Ashley : Who goes there!? This is Majo Detective Business! State your names!

Roxas : Hold up! We're the Good Guys! I-I'm...I'm Roxas! This is Maka Albarn, her sister Moirai, and the masked guy over here is Bandit! We mean no harm and we're about to find out what really happened to Pyramid Anubis, the tomb that was destroyed by a Giant Golem. We're investigating some ransom attacks that occured happening in Egypt! Those Nobodies came out of nowhere and finding out they've been disguising their selves as humans. turns out that Evil people are actually called heartlesses! So...you are that detective named Ashley, correct?

Ashley : Ehh, correct. We found Pyramid Anubis from the Soul World Manga that was supposed guarded by the heartlesses, but eventually it was destroyed by a living sand giant called "The Golem" We don't know what really happened if the perpetrator Samantha the Necromancer witch is alive, we have confirmed that Samantha hidden herself inside the pyramid! Maybe she's dealing with another undead person, or a Heartless that she's controlling.

Roxas : Sounds pretty unsafe to me cause this pyramid here is basically...Haunted for real. No one is able to go inside the Pyramid. So, it is unsafe for us to handle with the spirits.

Ashley : Lucky for me that I have been prepared. The entire Hidden Base is affiliated with a thing of dark presence...we call it "Darkness".

Roxas : Darkness! Well count me in! Let's crack that door wide open! Cause it's going to be a fun ride!

Ashley : Sounds good to me! Let's go! Follow my lead!

~ Fortieth Scene : Tomb of Darkness ~

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libidomechanica · 2 years

Text

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#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 4 #142 texts #ballad

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the-firebird69 · 2 years

Text

Trump is going to buy it and it's going to be by Dan and it's going to be reassembled tomorrow and he helps a very Trump and Trump goes after the two for unbury him kills Christopher multisani takes his personality and goes after his people and Dan the same time because he got some secrets he says when she doesn't know is true or not and he goes after him anyways for bringing him back actually and knowing that he died which is a curious thing and Christopher multicani is actually Garth at the beginning and you can see just going after Trump in this format as Christopher moltisani. And we're going to hit you now Trump really like it or not and we're going to let you get information out cuz you're stupid.

Enjoy it enjoy it enjoy losing

And yeah cast is supposedly the one that chops up then but Dan figured it out later and start attacking Trump shot him at the airport ride and that's tomorrow afternoon cuz the idiots fly all over the place if I make here a little leave a stink like a b**** would come up and get killed come back he killed again go out there and get killed and all their people are dying Trump and cork they're all up there in Maine Massachusetts New Hampshire Vermont small enclaves but really they're packed in Massachusetts going after each other too much of losers we're going after the shadow dome because we must it's a matter of security of the entire planet I'm going to secure it and it's a lot of stuff to do a lot of places to secure giant caverns that we have to secure and we're doing it now all of it and any digging pills and any acid digging and yeah where I'm seeing the Utah shatteredome now.

There seems to be no drive to move our son at all to anywhere. So getting ready to relocate him to Miami temporarily and everybody's barking you can't move him that kind of thing and all the rebels are saying it too we're going to sit on top of it to take it over so what we say is it's not going to be anything left for you to take over momentarily cuz we have to do that in order to move him we did sit down and think about it what you're saying was you can't move me if that's there but that's there so you have to move me you figure out what you're saying there's certain scheduling thing and timing to it and I know what you're thinking so do it and then move me and they were getting ready for that it didn't happen that way so now it's coming down to this you forced it you told us what you're doing we told you how we react we showed you how we react we don't want to care for your stupid attitude or talk and right now you're in a lot of trouble here in Florida tons of people went in your blockade is gone it's utterly gone in the foreigners are upon you and they're going at the shatterdome to try and stop whatever it is from Mining. Or to simply take the shadow dome into mine out the uranium they say so you're up and your ships are out there and you're fighting tooth and nail and it's no fun and you can't stand it and we have to clear it out occasionally so you don't blow up the shell now we're going by an sop now anything leading with too much ordinance gets taken out anything leading with special bombs out big ones out and so on it's a lot of ships don't make anywhere near here well I don't go around and still don't make it and a lot of them trying to come here to take the land and are fought that's the way it's going someone's mad at us but who cares nobody really wants to blow up tons of people trying to stop it.

They're huge things wrong here and treatment of him is terrible and we're going to make you pay for it shortly as the foreigners will break through the lines and they will stop attacking the s*** and shatter them and it will start attacking you because you're attacking them from sure with missiles and that's why with the diamond missing from Thunderdome I personally I will fit it out and build gigantic bases. It will affect the area around it and it will affect what's going on around it too and the shadow dome in the ocean will be affected as well because with the diamonds out they would now be priority to take the time it's out of there because they're accessible they're easier to take out and easier to hide that it was done so you're wrong to challenge Us. And the sun says that we must mind out the uranium shell as fast as possible on all of our shatteredome to remove the threat as fast as possible so we need to go over Apollo and goddess wife technique because they were the fastest and there's no real way to cut it and there's no real way to grind it it needs to be broken carefully and his way of doing it is working and he designed it but it is very fast so we need to go ask them

Thor Freya

We having to discuss it I'm glad our son is making this meeting possible and we're proposing a meeting time and most are accepting it and some say can we have at this time so getting it all in and they're saying they can do it when we need it and we're going to have that meeting

Apollo and Goddess Wife

The severity of the situation calls for us to meet now and I said is this time available here and I heard our son and you and now we have to meet I do understand this is urgent it was done to understand what you were thinking

Gu Oya

We have several shattered on now to capture all in now and we're going to meet about Apollo and goddess wife technique too and we're having a great time but this is very dangerous our son says it's far less dangerous than it was anyone several to have that in mind but the danger level is still extremely high until the last one has been deactivated and cleared and mind out it's excruciatingly high danger level but really we're not looking at it the way it really is it's lower than it was and it's still extremely high it is too high there's no real way to save you're too close to the Sun and now you're just a little bit further away that's a good way to say it and it was our son. And yeah that's the game they're playing with him here and us boy this is great he had two out of the parkt at the same time

Thor Freya

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snippychicke · 2 years

Text

~☽ Moonstone ☾~ (Six)

Fandom: Moon Knight(TV)

Rating: Mature/Explicit (THIS CHAPTER IS 18+)

Pairing: Khonshu/Reader (unnamed cis!female)

Summary: Before Marc and Steven, before Arthur Harrow, Khonshu had another avatar. Well, hundreds of thousand of others, but this is the story of one in particular that Khonshu was fond of.

First Part: Whoo boy, is this a chapter. And a biggie. I did redo Mirage and added it in, though I'll keep that as a stand alone still.

Second Part: I was having a day, and therefore, so was our characters. Smut ensues. (Lucky devils)

On Ao3| Masterpost for Moonstone

Tagging List: (I love you guys so much.)

If you want added to the list; please put your screenname here!

Now, finally, the story!

The two women were halfway to Cairo, shoved in two small seats in economy class on a nonstop flight to Egypt. Layla was catching a quick catnap, but you couldn’t calm your mind enough to even think about sleeping, and instead watched the clouds pass. The last twenty-four hours had been a whirlwind that you were still trying to come to terms with.

And, heavens, did your body ache from your stupid stunt last night. Bruises had bloomed across your body. You were sure you cracked at least one rib, and your head throbbed. You missed Khonshu’s healing suit now more than ever.

And what was with his new knight? You knew Steven, his British accent and soft, awkward mannerisms. You found him adorable and thought more than once about giving him your number, just to see what he’d do, and wondering if someone soft and sweet like would finally fill that missing piece of your soul.

But Marc, the man Layla told you about, the rough brash American, fit the bill as Khonshu’s true avatar. Was Steven truly just an alias of his? But what about the change in suit halfway through the fight? How did he go from barely knowing how to fight to throwing the jackal like a pro, getting it to chase him away from the busy street instead of just barely scrapping by?

The bright sunlight suddenly dimmed, drawing you out of your thoughts. You blinked, shifting as you realized it wasn’t another plane or a stray tall cloud, but a solar eclipse dimming the sky.

The thing was, you were pretty sure there were no eclipses forecasted. You liked to monitor such things, and did your best to attend both solar and lunar eclipses, knowing Khonshu reveled in them.

Especially the total solar eclipses, as he explained them as a sort of middle finger to the sun god, Ra.

The other passengers noticed and quickly chattering as the now-steady warmth in your chest flared as the total eclipse held longer than usual. This was not a natural eclipse.

He was literally giving a giant middle finger to the other gods.

“No. No, you fucking idiot!” you hissed. Khonshu had told you of his banishment, how if he angered the gods again, he’d likely end up sealed in stone like Ammit herself. You pressed a hand to the glass, your heart aching despite the growing power inside. “No, no, no.”

You could almost feel him, a whisper-thin link trying to re-establish itself. Or maybe you were imagining it. Still, you closed your eyes, concentrating on it, hoping it really was a line to him. “You idiot. Don’t do this. Please, don’t be doing this.”

The eclipse started to pass, the power fading, but you swore you heard his deep rumble a soft whisper in your mind. “I must.”

------

“I am; I am unwell. I need help,” Marc admitted, feeling every single word as he looked up at the avatars of the other gods, literally pleading while on his knees. His mind was fractured, so much worse than it had been just a few weeks ago, and his will to carry on was fading fast.

But it wasn’t gone yet. He had to do his part. He had to protect Layla and the rest of the world. And by the stony faces of many of the avatars, they were unsympathetic to his pain. To the pain of the rest of the world. Yatzil being the exception, her, or maybe Hathor’s, expression full of pain and pity, he had to look away. “But that doesn’t mean that he’s not trying to resurrect Ammit,” he continued, his expression growing firm again as he pointed to Harrow, trying to hold on to what little energy he had left.

Who knew being physically possessed by a god was so tiring?

Beside him, Harrow scoffed slightly. “Khonshu has twisted and broken this poor man’s mind, and plans to make a mockery of this court.”

“That’s not true,” Marc bit back. His mind had been fractured far before he had ever met Khonshu. The god had just taken advantage of it. “If you don’t believe me--”

“Marc,” Khonshu spoke suddenly in his mind, already knowing what he was about to say. “Don’t.”

He was desperate, though. Even if it meant angering Khonshu, there was a chance it would be worth it. A chance, but it was all he had. “Khonshu’s avatar, before Harrow. She knows.”

That got a reaction from Harrow, one not staged as the long-suffering, gentle prophet. His eyes widened in surprise, and then shortly narrowed in anger.

“We are not having three avatars of Khonshu in this court,” Bastet sighed. “Two is trying enough.”

“I think a third view would be helpful,” Hathor countered the other goddess respectfully. “And my avatar as well as myself are acquainted with her. She is uncouth, but speaks truthfully.”

“Very well,” Osiris sighed, and Marc felt Khonshu groan in despair.

“You begged for Layla to be spared, but summon her in front of the Ennead? Have you no empathy, Marc?”

Marc waved his worry off as the god being dramatic. Harrow would have killed Layla for the scarab, nearly did as a matter of fact. Khonshu would ruin Layla if she became his avatar. But where was the harm of you coming before the other gods? Especially against Harrow? There was no danger here.

There was a grumble of stone, and Marc looked back in time to see the woman in question wander in, looking a little disoriented as you looked around the dimly lit room, the door closing behind you. “This is not the toilet,” you commented before you recognized Harrow, your eyes narrowing. And then even more when you gazed around the room. “Oh wait, maybe it is. There’s a couple of assholes.”

“You are called before the Ennead to give an account between Arthur Harrow and Khonshu,” Osiris spoke, gracefully ignoring your comment, though Marc could tell it irritated him by his frown. “Khonshu accuses Harrow of attempting to resurrect Ammit, and Harrow’s counter-accusation is Khonshu’s own misuse of avatars and paranoid delusions. Which, considering he has had three Avatars in such quick succession in one generation, seems to have merit.”

Your glare shifted from Harrow to Osiris’s avatar as you walked towards them, pausing on Marc’s other side. “I can’t account for how he’s treated these two, but I have no complaints about Khonshu. Well, okay, that’s a lie,” you offered, holding a hand out to Marc, but he didn’t feel strong enough to stand, and merely shook his head. “But those are personal matters and had nothing to do with his treatment of me as an avatar.”

“You had personal issues against Khonshu… unrelated to your role as avatar?” Isis asked, confusion coloring her voice.

“She was his lover,” Harrow answered before you could, a sneer on the edge of his tone. “Obviously, how he treated her differed from how he treated us.”

You gritted your teeth, your eyes focused on the Ennead while you gestured sharply to Harrow, continuing as if he hadn’t even spoke. “It’s complicated, my lady. And something I don’t believe this court needs to bother itself with. However, as to this motherfucker--”

Your jaw snapped shut suddenly. Osiris’s avatar hand glowing faintly as he glowered down at you. “We do not tolerate foul language in this sacred place.”

“And violence,” Khonshu spoke through Marc briefly, surprising Marc at his sudden appearance as he shifted Marc’s body to sit on his heels by your side. He was further surprised as he felt an echo stir as he met your gaze. Or rather, as Khonshu met your gaze. It was like a phantom copy of his own link to the god, no more than a wispy after-image.

But the longing it caused Khonshu, and the absolute pain, left Marc speechless. It was almost as bad as being stabbed in the chest.

The moon god was scared, Marc realized. Terrified of the bond between him and you, yet craving it with the same intensity. And whatever was causing this bond placed you in danger, Marc realized. That was why Khonshu hadn’t wanted to call you.

“If they find out…” Khonshu tried to threaten Marc as he relinquished control, but the threat was empty and left unfinished. Being possessed by the god was giving him insights into the god Marc honestly wished he remained oblivious to.

“Okay, fine,” you continued, looking back up at the god of the sky, unaware of the mental conversation between him and Khonshu in that split moment. “Mr. Harrow here, has started a cult that worships Ammit, and wants to unleash her on the some-billion people of earth to ‘cleanse it of evil’ as he called it. He said so himself, several times, in fact.”

“Where is your proof?” Harrow stated coldly after the long moment of silence that hung after your accusation. “Why should they believe you on your word alone for such a serious accusation?”

“Besides being in your little cult myself?”

“You would admit to such a belief yourself?” Osiris questioned.

“What? No! I thought the whole deal was shady as fuck--”

“--language--”

“And so I went to do some investigating myself and found out the idiots were praising the actual Ammit and not the one from the dusty history books!”

Harrow snorted, “It seems to me very suspicious that Khonshu’s former lover found such a cult when Khonshu himself was looking for Ammit as well. She is desperate to follow in his footsteps even after he abandoned her.”

Marc gasped at Khonshu’s rage, the god quickly surfacing once more. “LIAR!” he roared while attempting to throw themself at the other man, and only ending up face-planting in the dirt. Whether it was because Marc tried to hold them back, or because of Osiris’s magic trick, he wasn’t sure.

“I said we will not tolerate violence,” the other god hissed. “My patience with you, Khonshu, is growing thin.”

“I am desperate to follow Khonshu’s creed to protect the innocent, and to help my fellow man,” his former avatar snarled through clenched teeth as you knelt down to help Marc out of the sand. “It is my purpose to help others, even though I am no longer his knight, because it’s what I believe is right.”

Marc didn’t know if it was him or Khonshu that leaned into you, seeking the soft, warm comfort you provided. Or maybe it was both of them. Marc took a few slow deep breaths, the bone-deep ache of physically housing a god slowly easing. Even the constant undercurrent of Khonshu’s rage eased some.

“My dearest moonstone, how I’ve missed your touch.”

Oh god, Marc was going to be sick. The damn bird really was in love.

“Khonshu tricked her into believing his delusions and then unleashed her onto the world,” Harrow argued. “I mean, just look at the state she is in. It only proves she is as violent as him, as well as just as unhinged.”

“Oh, don’t even start that!” you snarled, making to move towards the other man, your intent apparent in the bunching of your muscles, but Marc held your back with a firm grip on your arm. “You’re the asshole that sent the fucking jackal--”

Your lips sealed against your will as Osiris stood, the pale skin of his avatar turning red with anger. “That is enough! You are as insolent as your god!”

You turned to glare at him your lips parting with obvious difficulty as you spat back: “And you’re as ignorant and blind as he says if you believe this fucking--” Your jaw snapped shut with an audible click, but you retaliated with flipping your middle finger towards Osiris, which was quickly twisted around your back with the rest of your arm as you were shoved into the sand-covered stone, your head pressed against the stone.

“I should punish you for your insolence, mortal,” Osiris snarled. “I have never seen such disrespect in this hallowed chamber. You have offered no proof that this man has committed a crime. Thus, I declare him innocent. But you, mortal, have committed many offenses in front of us today. Be thankful that I am merciful and will allow you to leave this place unharmed.”

Marc watched as the other gods stood and left, apparently having no qualms with Osiris’ judgment. Even when his avatar left, the god’s magic remained as you struggled against the magic that kept you in the prone position while Harrow was free to leave.

“Well, that went better than expected,” Khonshu sighed, making Marc roll his eyes in disbelief, but any quip died as you growled and suddenly punched the ground as soon as the magic restraints disappeared.

And then whimper in pain, which quickly turned into a sob as you curled into a ball, clutching your fist to your chest.

“I’m sorry,” you whimpered quietly, almost too soft for Marc to hear. “I should-I should’ve tried harder. Controlled myself. Something.”

“Hey, you did good,” Marc tried to comfort. Gently placing a hand on your shoulder while Khonshu remained oddly silent when just minutes before he had been ready to be imprisoned in stone to defend your honor, or craving your touch with such longing.

But that was Khonshu, confusing as ever.

“Good? Good?!” you looked up at him, your eyes full of tears. “They believed in Harrow! Khonshu risked everything with that bullshit of his, and yeah, they didn’t imprison him or anything, but I- I failed him.”

“Even if you had been as eloquent as Thoth, Hathor doubts Osiris and the others would have listened.” Yatzil offered as she approached the pair. “They are still quite upset with Khonshu, and refuse to believe that a mortal would risk awakening Ammit. Besides, it was not Khonshu who asked for your testament, so you could have hardly failed him.”

You looked towards Marc, who shrugged as he got up. “He was kinda pissed that I even mentioned you, to be honest.”

Instead of being reassured, he could see a brief flash of pain on your face, and held his hand out to you to help you to your feet. Only then did he realize how bloody and bruised your hands were. Your whole body was.

No wonder you were crying. Both he and Khonshu were of the rare same mind as they tried to wipe the blood and sand away from your cuts, trying to be soft and reassuring.

And that bond flared once more were his eyes met yours.

“And she expects that is why,” Yatzil smiled sadly, and shook her head at your puzzled look. “This is not the place to speak of such things. Even though the others are gone, you can never be sure who walks these chambers.” Her eyes drifted to Marc, her expression hardening. “Hathor implores you to find the medjay Senfu. He alone recorded the location of Ammit’s tomb, though his own sarcophagus was lost to black market traders…”

Marc laughed dryly. “Well, that actually might be easier than finding that damn scarab.”

“Hathor believes us?” The former avatar asked.

“While Hathor doesn’t agree with Khonshu on many things, she isn’t blinded by a grudge as the rest of Ennead is,” was her answer. “He wouldn’t go to such great trouble, risking his own safety and the safety of his avatars, if he didn’t believe it was well worth the risk. And for him to take such a gamble, the situation must be dire. She will do what she can, though she will not stand against the rest of the Ennead at this time.”

The woman pulled a card from the fold of her dress and gave it to you. “As for the other matter, call me when you have a moment.”

Khonshu groaned, his embarrassed discomfort apparent before he left Marc’s body, which felt like a ton of weight suddenly lifting from his shoulders. The avatar swore he didn’t want to know.

Besides, he had more important things to worry about.

----

Layla frowned when you came back from the airport bathroom, looking far worse for wear than when you had left nearly half an hour before. “That was a long bathroom break.”

“You know that freaking weird ass eclipse?” you seethed as you flopped down, grabbing the now-cold coffee.

“The one that had you cursing Khonshu loud enough that the stewardess had to ask you to calm down?” Layla asked, sipping at her own drink. It was actually her second cup as she tried to shake off the jet lag and the jitters at being back in Egypt. “It was rather hard to miss.”

“Well, I was right!” You slammed your hands on the table, oblivious of the looks it drew. “It was him! The dumbass summoned the Ennead! Against that silver tongued snake!”

Like everything else that you had told her, Layla only blinked at the new information, digesting it quickly. She had been with Marc for years, knew of Khonshu and her husband’s position as the moon god’s avatar, so everything else went along with the insanity fairly well. “Let me guess, it didn’t go so great? Also, how do you know this?”

“Er, your boyfriend--”

“--Soon to be ex-husband, actually.”

“--thought I would be a good person to vouch against Harrow.”

“Well, I mean, you were infiltrating his cult.”

“I can’t talk civilly for the life of me!” You whined, as if she knew that despite meeting you yesterday. Granted, she had figured it out well before the flight to Egypt as they tried to figure where their respective idiots were heading next. (Though believing the woman in front of her had been romantically involved with the same Khonshu that Marc cursed was a hard pill to swallow.) “I may have called the Ennead ignorant and blind and flipped off Osiris himself.”

Layla laughed, covering her face in case you accidentally spit out her drink. “You didn’t.”

“Sure did. And he made me eat dirt. Asshole. Anyway, you’re right. They’re here in Cairo. Your former boy-toy’s going to be poking around the black market for Senfu’s sarcophagus.”

Layla rolled her dark eyes. “With that thick American accent of his? I guess it’s my idiot’s turn to get himself into trouble.” She finished up her drink with a sigh. “Shall we?”

----

Khonshu was livid.

The small open market of Cairo had no warning when the large gust of wind slammed through as the two women appeared by Marc, making his anger apparent. People braced and scattered for cover as the winds whipped up sand and dirt like a vengeful dust devil.

Well, not like one, it definitely was one. Marc groaned as he covered his face and knew he wasn’t the only one irritated by the god’s temper-tantrum, judging by the cursing of the two women.

But if he thought of being stuck in the open, surrounded by oblivious civilians, was bad. Being crammed into the small hotel room, it was even worse.

“Tell her she needs to leave!” Khonshu roared for the hundredth time, stalking around the room. “She needs to go back home and stay there! This isn’t her fight!”

“I have to agree with Khonshu.” Marc sighed as the two women made themselves at home in the room, apparently deciding without asking that they were going to share it with him despite the uneasy tension in the air. “Both of you need to go back to London.”

“I want to see you get to Senfu’s sarcophagus then,” Layla challenged, crossing her arms as she perched on the bed, disarrayed by arguments between him and Steven. “I mean, you were doing so well without me.”

“And if you think I am leaving now, with the fate of the world in the balance,“ you growled, plopping yourself near a plug in and booting up your laptop. “You are both sorely mistaken. Khonshu wasn’t the brightest before, and obviously his skull’s only gotten thicker. I mean, a full solar eclipse? Are you fucking kidding me?” You gestured to the open room, obviously talking to the god you couldn’t see but knew was there, somewhere. “You are so unbelievably lucky the others didn’t seal you away! And then where would we be?“

“I had no other choice,” Khonshu argued back, looming over your unaware form. “It’s hardly my fault my avatar has been even more incompetent than usual!”

“Don’t blame me for this,” Marc shot back, hearing Steven echo the sentiment in the mirror.

“I don’t even wanna know,” you grumbled, shaking your head. “I am so fucking mad. Heavens, you would think I would know better than to trust the stupid bird brained god to make a rational decision.”

The wind started up, as Khonshu slammed his staff next to you, the lights flickering and your computer suddenly shutting off. “Don’t--“

“I don’t care what you have to say,” you yelled blindly into the room, interrupting him. “For fuck’s sake, I can’t even hear you! I can’t hear you, can’t see you, and I can barely feel you.” Your voice caught as you stood, tossing your computer to the side. “I know you’re there and you have no idea how horrible this is! I trusted you, Khonshu; I trusted that you had a reason for taking the mantle from me, but here we are, a short few years later, and look at this mess!”

Marc shot a worried look towards Layla, unsure about being caught in what almost felt like a lover’s spat between human and god, but Layla only gave him a pointed look.

Right. He was in a similar boat as Khonshu. Layla obviously sided with the former avatar, and well, to be honest, Marc did too. Even if he barely understood the situation himself.

“And-and I can’t even hear you,” you finished softly, rubbing your face to hide the tears forming. “I can scream and yell until I’m blue, and it won’t change anything because I’m virtually just talking to thin air. So, fine. You don’t want me here, then I’ll follow up on my own leads. I know some people here that may know a few things.”

You grabbed your bag and stormed towards the door, pausing only when Layla grabbed your wrist. “Keep in touch, okay?”

“Yeah, I won’t be far,” you whispered while avoiding her gaze, though she could still see the pain and tears in your eyes. Layla squeezed your wrist briefly, trying to be reassuring, before letting you go.

“Marc,” Khonshu said after you slammed the door shut after leaving. It wasn’t the sharp, commanding tone that Marc was used to, the one he just used moments before, but a softer, almost pleading tone the avatar had never heard from the Khonshu before. The former mercenary turned towards the god, surprised to see him look almost… sad? Dejected? Even if he didn’t have a face, his body language was enough for the avatar to know the anger from just a few minutes before had virtually evaporated. “Let me speak to her. Just for a few minutes.”

“Oh no, we are not doing that again,” Marc argued, recalling the odd sensation of Khonshu possessing his body during the tribunal. It had felt worse than when Steven was in control, because he had been fully aware of everything. Less of a silent passenger in his own body and more like being controlled against his will. Nothing more than a puppet to the god.

And that heavy weight that settled on his whole body that wore him to the bones quickly, leaving him feeling like he had pulled several hundred pounds of dead weight through the desert under the scorching sun.

Besides, he owed Khonshu nothing. Not after everything the moon god had done to destroy his life. Destroy his marriage with Layla, who was acting as if she was ignoring his conversation as she pulled out her own laptop, though he could tell she was listening intently. It had been months since he had been around her, but he couldn’t forget the slight way her head tilted as she listened intently, the curls of her hair falling away from her neck, and….

God, he forgot how much he missed her.

Let Khonshu feel what it was like to be forced away from the one he loved. Sure, he and Layla had their issues, but the moon god was to blame for many of them, possibly just as much as his own inability to discuss his issues.

“Please, just for a few minutes,” Khonshu pleaded, and hearing him say please, to be so humble, knocked the strength from Marc’s argument. Because, despite his simmering anger, he was now placing himself in Khonshu’s shoes, imagining begging to be able to talk to Layla one more time.

His wife who peeked over the top of her screen, her dark eyes framed by her heavy lashes. Khonshu continued on, unaware that Marc was no longer listening, but enraptured by his wife’s gaze. As if she could hear the god and was telling him to be merciful this time. “Perhaps I can calm her some, and we need whatever help we can get now that the gods themselves refused.”

Damn it. Khonshu made a good point. Three humans (Four including Steven) and a god versus Harrow and all of his followers. They barely stood a chance, let alone without losing your help. “Fine. Five minutes and not a second longer. And no funny business!”

-----

You were sitting on the flat stone roof of the hotel, grumbling at your phone, when Khonshu found you. Your back turned towards the door, hair damp from sweat, unused to being under the desert sun, shoulders bared and curved, your shirt sticking to your skin because of the heat.

He wanted to talk to you. He had planned what he was going to say during his search to find you, every argument and every counterpoint.

But now that he was here, seeing you with mortal eyes under the bright sun and not the flickering light of the Ennead’s court, and no longer worrying if his kin could sense the power within you, Khonshu found Marc’s body not responding. The man’s heart was beating quickly, his chest tight enough around his lungs as he found it hard to breathe.

Oh heavens, was Marc sick?

“I’m not sick. You’re nervous,” Marc grumbled from within. “It feels like being a teenager all over again. Just hurry and get this over with.”

Right. He was a god, and this was nothing compared to what he had done in the long years of his life. He cleared Marc’s throat and spoke your name, not used to saying it aloud anymore, even though he thought it every day in some form.

Only for you to wave your hand without looking, gesturing for him to leave. “Not now, Marc.”

Your voice was hoarse, bearing the evidence of crying, and making his chest hurt even more when he stepped closer. “Please, moonstone.”

His term of endearment caught your attention as you twisted around to look at him, confusion clear on your face. “... he really told you to call me that?” you asked softly, and he could see your eyes rimmed with red from crying.

Because of him.

“Marc’s allowed me temporary use of his body so I could talk with you,” he explained and watched the emotions flicker across your face; pain, hope, longing, as you finally recognized his deep timbre and unique accent despite using Marc’s voice.

But rage quickly covered those expressions. You dropped your phone as you stood and stormed towards him, as quick as the wind itself. “Why?! To tell me to go home? That this isn’t any of my business anymore? Well, tough shit asshole!” you jammed your finger into Marc’s chest. “I live on this planet, and I care for everyone on it, so--“

Khonshu didn’t even wait for you to finish before pulling you into an embrace, interrupting your angry tirade. Even though it wasn’t his body, he could feel you as if it was. How soft you were, the strength you possessed as you initially resisted. The smell of sweat mixed with your fragrant soaps you used to bathe yourself.

“No funny business,” Marc snarled as Khonshu pressed his face against your hair, refreshing his memories. “Talking only, so hurry and apologize already!”

Khonshu reluctantly obeyed his host and pulled away, but only a fraction before you stopped him by grabbing fistfuls of his shirt. You kept your head turned away, avoiding his gaze as his hands came to rest on your shoulders.

“Why did you leave me?” you asked, which was not at all what he expected. Your earlier anger had vanished, leaving your voice weak and pleading. “We were such a great team, and I thought-I thought we were happy.”

Heavens, he had been so happy back then. Even the moon had seemed brighter when you walked by his side. “I have ruined many lives of my avatars through the ages, but I considered it an acceptable price to pay for the good I worked through them,” he answered. “But seeing you struggle was a price I couldn’t bear. You are my beloved moonstone, my dearest one, and your happiness is something I will sacrifice everything for.” Every word he spoke was the truth, yet it wasn’t quite the complete truth.

He couldn’t admit how close he came to ruining your life, your entire existence. How there was a solid possibility he had condemned you in the afterlife despite his best intentions. All because he loved you.

Your breath hitched and your grip tightening as you whispered: “You fucking asshole. I would have made it work. I would’ve chosen you over anything.”

“I think I’m going to be sick,” Marc groaned. “God, you two are way too sappy.”

Khonshu ignored him and instead gently encouraged you to turn to face him, wiping the tears away on your cheek. He had missed those beautiful eyes of yours, framed perfectly in your face. Heavens, he missed everything about you. Your beauty, your attitude, your smile, your laugh, your skin, your lips. Those soft words you spoke to him, full of love and tenderness unlike any he had ever heard before.

He could feel that power growing between them, reminding him even more of the past. And reminded him why he had given you up in the first place. “I apologize for the pain and suffering I caused you, beloved. I only wanted the best for you.”

“Damn fucking idiot.” You wrapped your arms around his neck suddenly, pulling him close. Close enough, he thought he could feel your soul once more try to reach for his along a bond that was no longer there. His own lurched towards yours, craving your touch and presence so strongly that it made him ill. Wrapping his arms around you, holding you just as tight, only took the edge off. “Your such an idiot, ya know? I love you, even now, and I forgive you, but heavens, you’re so thick.”

“Great, can I have my body back?”

Marc was going to kill him, but Khonshu couldn’t resist. Not with you here. Out of instinct, he nuzzled against your cheek, not used to Marc’s different nose. That alone was a unique sensation in itself, but then you moved to brush your lips against his, softly with a light sigh ghosting across him afterwards.

Oh.

“I SAID NO,” Marc shouted, suddenly pulling away and stumbling back at the fact he was suddenly in control.

Khonshu was still in his former place. His body curved around you, the bone of his beak pressed against your soft lips. Your eyes slowly opened, basking in the familiar sensation of large hands squeezing your shoulders, bone moving gently against your lips, and that warmth in your chest blooming.

Khonshu. Heavens, it really was him, looking exactly as you remembered him. Unnaturally tall, long limbs wrapped by bandages, and his skull looking as ancient as the pyramids themselves.

Then began fading as quickly as he appeared, taking the warmth in your chest with him. You clutched at him frantically, grabbing the gauze of his robe and then the bone of his beak, as you fiercely tried to keep a hold of him as you took in every detail, but to no avail. By the time he brushed your face with his hand, it was as solid as a gentle breeze.

And then he was gone, as if he had been nothing more than a mirage.

~☽ O ☾ ~

You had been having… issues. All day. It was just one of those days where all your daydreams during class led back to two things.

Khonshu. And sex.

Okay. Mainly having sex with Khonshu.

Angry, violent sex against the wall, where you were ripping and clawing at each other as he pounded into you, lips and teeth scratching against bone, his large hands gripping at you tightly, making you feel so small in his violent embrace. Or where he had you bent over a desk, his hand wrapped in your hair and pulling it as he showed you the might of a god.

Where you had him pinned down, taking what you needed without mercy. Making him moan and gasp as you found whatever made a god quiver and beg. Or maybe cursing you in between frantic thrusts, seeking his own pleasure.

Interspersed, of course, with tender, soft sex as he worshiped your body, praising you in languages you didn’t understand. Or where you voiced all those things you were too scared of saying aloud, and he accepted and returned each one as you laid naked in the moonlight. Where he touched every scar, every flaw you saw in yourself, and praised and blessed each imperfection because they were yours.

Yeah. None of that was ever going to actually happen, but it was certainly distracting to think about. A lot better than the droning of your instructors.

At the end of the day, you may have bought a lingerie set while out trying to clear your thoughts. Pure white lace with embedded golden stars and a crescent moon resting between your cleavage; matching panties that had little straps that clung to your hips and waist, a white strip of fabric barely covering your core. IT was beautiful, and surprising there had been one in your size.

Granted, once you returned to your dingy little apartment, modeling it to yourself, your mind reminded you that Khonshu would not appreciate such things. He was the god of the moon, ancient and probably used to women with far better proportions than you falling at his feet, dressed in decadent robes. He wouldn’t be interested in how the fabric didn’t quite sit right against your form, too tight and small in places, or too loose in others.

You were going to just throw it in the trash. Burn it. Except you paid a lot more for it than you were really comfortable with… maybe you would just hide it in a dresser and let it go forgotten until the end of time.

“You expect to go fighting dressed like that?”

Khonsu’s gravelly voice broke through your thoughts. You screamed as the moon god appeared behind you in the leaning mirror. “Damn it Khonshu! Don’t just appear like that!” you shifted to turn and face him, ready to give him a piece of your mind, but instinctively froze as he quickly reached around and grasped your throat, his long fingers digging into your skin in a warning.

Khonshu took the time to study your reflection in the mirror, how your breasts moved with every breath, barely contained in the lacy bra you wore, the curves of your waist, the stretch marks that adorned your stomach and hips before disappearing into a matching set of underwear that barely hid a thing before giving way to your plush thighs and muscular calves.

“Were you planning on doing something else tonight?” He asked lightly, though shifted his grip so you tilted your head back, baring more of your throat, and causing your eyes to flutter slightly. Just like the pulse he could feel in your neck. “Have you forgotten that you belong to me, insolent mortal?”

“Dunno what you mean,” you mumbled. Almost submissively, making something in him churn. “Just a new pair of underthings. Doesn’t mean anything.”

“I am no fool, my dear,” he chuckled darkly. “I see exactly what you see.”

The impish light he loved flickered in your eyes as you gazed at his reflection. At your reflection, and how his long, lithe body towered over yours, dwarfing you in comparison. “And what’s that, exactly?”

He stepped closer, his body pressed against yours to remind you even more how small you were compared to him. “A gift waiting to be unwrapped and devoured in the most intimate of ways.”

A smile spread across your face, your thighs shifting together unconsciously as he felt your arousal growing through the bond. “Now, where would you get an idea like that?”

Khonshu growled, his staff forgotten as it clattered to the ground. His other hand reached around, the coarse material of the gauze covering his hand tickling your skin as he cupped your groin. “We have work to do, innocents to protect, yet here you are, dressed like this. Such impudence is unbecoming in my avatar.”

“A girl has needs, you know?” you whined as his fingers moved against the cloth covering you, barely pressing against your core as he teased you. “Fuck, I wasn’t even sure you’d get turned on by lingerie.”

“It’s not your clothing that’s causing my desire for you, small one,” he answered, his voice rumbling through his chest and into your back. “You’re so needy and desperate, I can feel it through our bond. All day, growing more and more. Feeling you search out for any bit of friction just for a moment of relief. And here I thought humans didn’t have an estrus.”

“Shut up. I wasn’t that bad.” you grumbled as he chuckled, your head lolling back against his chest, eyes closed as he continued to rub against your slit through the fabric. Slow, gentle movements that were only making you even more wet and needy. “I just get horny from time to time, okay?”

“And thinking about how I would take you on various surfaces?” He murmured, his skull rubbing against your cheek while the tip of his beak scratched against the skin of your chest. “I have to admit, the one where I have you bent over a desk was particularly tempting. I never thought of pulling your hair to make you behave.”

He could feel your knees getting weak, the cloth saturated where he had been toying. He parted your legs with his, pulling you up his leg to support you just enough for your toes to barely touch the ground. “If the others find out about this, I’ll be punished.”

“So you’re going to punish me instead?”

Heavens, it was like you were begging him to. And well, how could he deny you anything? “That, and I promised I would always take care of you.” His fingers slipped around the soaked fabric, both fingers easily slipping inside your cunt. Your back arched as you gasped, your hands grabbing his to stay steady while the only thing keeping you balanced was the hand at your groin and the one still wrapped around your neck. “I won’t let you fall,” he reassured, “Not until I’ve broken you completely.”

Any quips died in your chest as he pumped his fingers in and out of you at a cruel, slow pace. Instead, you could only gasp and whine, occasionally muttering his name as a prayer. His own hips moved slightly in rhythm to his fingers, craving to be inside you once more. The movement quickly had your gasping and crying, so close to the edge after a frustrating day of teasing thoughts and fantasies.

Just as your pleas carried his name, so did your spirit call to him across the bond. He could feel it whine and beg, reaching across the link for him. But he had sworn that he wouldn’t. He may have given in before, but he couldn’t afford to do so yet again.

But heavens, you were so alluring. He found pleasure watching your expressions in the mirror as he continued to fuck you with his fingers, feeling your desire near its peak, your soul continuing to pray for him, tempting him.

He could barely control himself, but to refuse your soul calling, begging him in the same way your body craved more, was more than he could endure. “Can I have you?” He murmured as felt his resolve buckle. “Would you have me, my moonstone? Even if it meant risking their wrath?”

“Always,” your hand let go of his that was grasping your neck, and instead caressed his beak that rested on your shoulder and nuzzled against it with parted lips. He could feel your soft, moist lips caress his bone, your breath hot and heavy and carrying a soft cry with each sweet exhale as he brought you closer to your climax.

He couldn’t hold back, and you eagerly met him halfway once more, your body keening as his spirit touched and melted against yours. He was only half aware of milking you through your climax, more focused on the pleasure of your spirits bonding, feeling the absolute acceptance and love you held for him. Being able to share with you his adoration that he could never truly express otherwise.

He had never had an avatar, a lover, like you, and swore he never would again. You were so much more than his voice and fist. You were the stars in the sky whose beauty was unsurpassed. Whom each night he gazed upon and memorized every single detail while knowing what he saw was only a fraction of their true majesty.

Who was always there, no matter what phase the moon was in. Just like you stayed by his side, your faith and dedication unwavering no matter what manner of mood he was in. Even when you argued and railed against one another, you refused to abandon him.

Time was meaningless as they laid upon the floor of the bedroom, limbs tangled and entwined. Yet he counted every heartbeat and every breath, trying to memorize the way you fit against him. So small and soft, clutching on to him as if he would disappear back into the darkness.

“I don’t think I was the only one hot and bothered all day,” you broke the silence after a long moment, tracing the crescent moon on his chest. “That… feeling. Is that like sex for gods?”

“In a very crude and basic way, yes.” He answered. “It’s difficult to explain.”

“Mmm,” you hummed sleepily, accepting his answer with such ease. “How long do you think we can stay like this?”

He would make the night last forever if it was your wish. Until the moon freed itself of the earth and fell into the sun. Until the Earth turned to dust and time became meaningless. Or until the Ennead cursed him to stone for binding himself with a human. “I think we can afford a few hours of rest, if you desire.”

“I don’t wanna sleep, I just like being close to you,” you admitted softly. “I know we fight and bicker at each other, but I.. “

He had used and pleasured your body, you’d cum screaming his name multiple times. You had worshiped his body and ridden his cock until he shouted your name to the heavens in absolute bliss.

But those three words still held so much meaning as you held your tongue, your eyes saying it all. He hoped his gentle gesture of caressing your face before pulling your body even closer to his echoed the sentiment.

“I do appreciate your choice of garment,” he admitted instead, teasing the finely knit lace, now covered with sweat. “I admit, it’s befitting of my avatar. Though I may not be able to control myself should you wear it again.”

Even though you buried your face against his chest with an embarrassed groan, he could feel your smile.

#khonshu x reader #khonshu #khonshu marvel #khonshu moon knight #moon knight #mcu moon knight #fanfic #mk moonstone #khonsu

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bitsandbobsofwriting · 3 years

Text

A new servant desperately struggles to understand what exactly Merlin is:

A cryptid? Arthur's boyfriend? Simply a dude? The court jester? Something else entirely? Who knows, certainly not the new guy.

The first time the new kitchen-hand, Tristan, saw The King’s dark-haired servant sprinting down the corridor, he couldn’t tell if the man was laughing or crying.

He was fast, faster than Tristan thought possible for someone whose arms were so full of laundry, but he politely steps out of the way, coming to the conclusion that he must’ve been late for something. At least... he did think that, until he turns the next corner to see three of The king’s most trusted knights peering out of windows and into random doors. Tristan freezes in the corridor, he’d heard that servants were treated extremely well here, but he’d only been employed for a few days and he didn’t want to risk anything by pushing past or addressing his betters.

One of the knights, Sir Leon, his brain helpfully supplies, spots him stood there, and his annoyed frown quickly morphs into a friendly smile:

“Pardon me, sorry, I don’t suppose you’ve seen Merlin around anywhere, have you?”

Tristan’s eyes go wide and the grip he has on his tray tightens, but he forces himself to take a breath and answer, trying his best to keep his voice even:

“Merlin is... The King’s manservant? Tall, with dark hair?”

Another knight pushes forward, he looks to be the oldest, with dark hair falling in an almost deliberately tousled way around his bearded jawline. His charming grin seems just a little too wide to be genuine, but Tristan isn’t quite sure if that’s because he’s about to take pleasure in punishing someone, or if he’s just being polite to a stranger:

“Yeah, yeah that’s him, seen him? Arsehole turned our shirts pink in the wash, and something tells me it was deliberate.”

Tristan gulps at the accusation and he takes a shaky step back, but before he can even think of defending the stranger that he now thinks must’ve been crying, the last of the three knights, a giant, if Tristan believed in such things, steps forward:

“Don’t worry, we won’t beat him too much.”

He says it with a grin and a quirk of his eyebrows, but once again the kitchen-hand can’t tell if it was cruel or genuine, if he was being sarcastic or not.

“Uh... yeah, he turned left at the end of this corridor, but I didn’t see where he went after that, I apologise.”

Sir Leon waves away his apology with a smile, looking to the long-haired knight with a raised eyebrow:

“The stables?”

The man grins widely, nodding his agreement as he turns his grin to the giant. Sir Leon offers Tristan another soft smile, murmuring his thanks before moving past him, elbowing the other two to prompt them in to thanking him as well. The three of them march down the corridor with almost vindictive smiles on their faces, and Tristan prepares himself to see a vacancy note, or possibly a funeral invite, posted on the notice board by the next morning.

When he passes a window that evening to see the King’s manservant being carried on the giant’s shoulders as five other knights pelt them with gloves, a grin on every face, he decides that... well... it’s probably best to just not to ask.

The next time he sees Merlin, a few days later, The King is also there.

This is the first time Tristan has been in Arthur Pendragon’s presence, and though the other servant’s all rave on about how awkwardly kind he is, he’s a bundle of nerves. Not even Cook’s stories about how often she whacks The King’s knuckles with a wooden spoon when she catches him about to pilfer something stops Tristan’s heart from racing.

The King was overseeing a few of the servants decorate the main hall for a feast, and whilst Tristan is certain that that’s not something The King normally does, he doesn’t question it, just thinks that maybe the other servants had been telling the truth, and he was a genuinely nice, but normal man.

Merlin stands at his side, and though Tristan can’t hear their conversation, the two of them are clearly bickering over something. The servant can’t help his curiosity, wanting desperately to move closer to find out what sort of things The King allows his servant to bicker with him about; luckily, the table right next to them has yet to be laid, so he moves towards it quickly. He doesn’t even glance at them, terrified of being caught out, but perhaps Merlin surviving the knights non-wrath the other day is encouraging him, and his steps don’t falter. Their words come in to focus, and he has to stop the confused, and slightly horrified, frown from spreading across his face:

“Arthur, I swear to the Gods, if you make me wear that hat again, I’ll piss in your wine and serve it to you in front of a crowd.”

The King scoffs just as Tristan shakily begins laying down the cutlery:

“That’s treason, Merlin.”

“Do I look like I care? Not only will I piss in your wine, I will not hesitate to push you over a balcony at the first opportunity. This hall is high up and it’s a long way down to the gardens. He drank toxic wine and turned loopy and tipped himself off a balcony and went splat! That’s what people will say. I’m not wearing the Godamn hat.”

Tristan has to focus extra carefully to stop himself from gasping; Merlin just threatened to kill The King... that’s got to be a death sentence. Pissing off some knights that he’s obviously friendly with is one thing, but threatening to kill The-

“Ha ha. Very funny. If you can’t tell, Merlin, I’m being sarcastic, I know you struggle with complex concepts like that.”

Merlin just rolls his eyes, crossing his arms as he says with no hesitation:

“My mind is more than capable of coping, My Lord, it’s your belt I worry about being able to cope nowadays.”

Tristan bites his tongue to stop himself from yelping and turns away so neither of them can see his horrified face. The King just makes an outraged noise in the back of his throat, and Tristan can hear Merlin snort in laughter at whatever expression Arthur was wearing to match such a noise:

“Go to the stocks. I want you there for three hours.”

Tristan lets out a confused breath; Merlin threatens to kill The King, and gets playful sarcasm, but he implies The King might be a tad overweight, and gets sent to the stocks for three hours? How is that-

“Yeah... no. Not happening. The feast starts in less than two hours and I still have to help Guinevere organise some stuff in the courtyard, do Gaius’ rounds for him, then put an extra hole in your belt and help you get dressed because, despite being a grown man, you’re still an idiot who’s incapable of putting clothes on in any sort of decent manner.”

Tristan finds himself relaxing a little. This seems to be the norm for them, but surely... surely The King had a line somewhere, and a servant just flat out refusing to be disciplined must be where it lies?

Arthur just scoffs, and Tristan angles his head in such a way that he can see him roll his eyes:

“Fuck off.”

Merlin grins, seeming to cast a suspicious gaze over the room to make sure no one was watching and somehow completely missing Tristan stood just there, before saying quietly:

“You love me really, you prat.”

With that, Merlin reaches up to yank at a lock of The King’s hair before hurrying off in the direction of the courtyard before Arthur can react. The King jumps slightly, clearly caught by surprise as an annoyed flush rises on his face, but Tristan just frowns in confusion when his shock gives way to a softly amused smile.

Huh.

The next few times Tristan saw Merlin made him fear for the servant’s safety. He was being taken on hunts by The King and his knights, that’s meant to be for squires, to learn the ropes and gain experience in tracking and riding.

He supposes it isn’t entirely unheard of for a servant to follow their master on a hunt, but with the way Merlin complains without pause, and The King in turn complains about his complaining, he thinks it would better for everyone if Merlin just... didn’t go. When he brings it up to another servant, a lovely woman named Guinevere who had helped him get unlost at least three times in his first week, she just laughs and smiles at him pityingly:

“I wouldn’t worry, those two have been like that forever, they’re practically inseparable.”

Tristan responds with a rather intelligent sounding:

“...What?”

Gwen laughs softly again, shaking her head and patting his shoulder consolingly:

“You’ll get used to it, they’re just... like that.”

She gives him one more smile before turning to wave the boys out of the gates and walking back to the castle as if this were the most normal thing in the world. Tristan supposes that it probably is.

The next time Tristan sees Merlin leave the city gates with the knights, Sir Elyan, Sir Mordred, and Sir Lancelot this time, it’s distinctly worse. Because he’d caught sight of the patrol rota last time he ran food down to the training ground, and he was certain that those three had a city patrol right about now.

Before he even has time to gape in shock, he hears Merlin’s pleading voice as he trails Sir Elyan like a lost puppy:

“Please, El, I promise to stay out of the way, I will do anything, but I swear to the Gods if I have to spend one more minute around that prat, I’ll hurl myself from the battlements.”

Swearing to the Gods and threating to hurl various people, including himself, from significant heights seems to be some sort of theme for The King’s manservant. Before Tristan can consider the implications of that, Sir Elyan turns to Merlin with a wide, teasing grin on his face:

“You know, I would’ve let you tag along for free, Merlin, but now that you’ve promised me something I feel the need to take advantage.”

Tristan tenses at that, a shot of ice spiking down his spine. He has keen eyes and sharp ears, he knows that Sir Elyan is the lovely Gwen’s brother, Sir Mordred seems to have an... odd worship for the servant, and he’s definitely picked up on the close bond between Merlin and Sir Lancelot, but is this where Camelot’s image comes crashing down in Tristan’s head? He knew that it was better here for servant’s than other Kingdoms, but there are always people who’ll take advantage of their position, no matter where you are. Merlin’s shoulders just drop and he asks in a sulking voice:

“What do you want?”

Tristan grits his teeth, moving his gaze so no one would catch him glaring at the knight as he tries to figure out a way to help, a way to get this virtual stranger out of being... abused, in such a manner. If he’d carried on glaring, he would’ve noticed Elyan’s soft smile and amused raised eyebrow:

“Next time you gather herbs for Gaius, bring back some more of those flowers that you got for Gwen. She said they added vibrancy to the house, whatever that means, but they make her happy, so...-”

Merlin just giggles and nods and Tristan relaxes, looking back to them with a confused smile on his face. That was... actually kind of sweet, he can definitely see the resemblance between the knight and his sister:

“-AND I want whatever Arthur’s having for dinner tonight, his food always looks way nicer than ours.”

Merlin lets out a faux annoyed groan, but then rolls his eyes and grins, nodding:

“Consider it done. Can we go now? I really don’t want to risk him seeing me and giving me some stupid chore to do.”

Elyan laughs and nods, and the four of them begin making their way out of the courtyard and into the city. Sir Lancelot finally joins the conversation, clearly amused as he says:

“You know it’s literally your job to do chores, right?”

Merlin turns to glare at him as Sir Mordred and Sir Elyan laugh, and Tristan only just hears his reply as the castle gates shut behind them:

“Fuck off.”

Tristan decides it would be pointless to bring this up to anyone again, he figures he’ll probably just get the same answer as last time.

The next confusing incident happens only a few days later. But Tristan supposes that at this point... it really shouldn’t be confusing. Gwen was right, he did just... get used to it.

He heard the steps pounding down the corridor before he saw him, but they were coming fast and hard, so he presses himself against the wall, holding the tray to his side to protect it as best he could as Merlin comes skidding round the corner.

He stops just long enough for Tristan to calm himself by spying the wide grin on his face, but he’s quickly sprinting down the hall again, laughing as he waves whatever it is he’s got clutched in his hands. The second set of loud, rapid footsteps stops Tristan from stepping away from the wall quite yet. Just a moment later, Sir Gwaine follows Merlin’s skidded path around the corner, though the heavier man overshoots slightly and he runs into the wall opposite Tristan with a crash and a deep groan.

The rebellious knight gives a wide-eyed Tristan an awkward nod before pushing himself off the wall and following Merlin’s blazing trail, screaming down the corridor:

“I warned you Merlin!! Don’t come between a man and his ale, now give that back you bastard!”

Tristan hears Merlin’s laughter grow louder, even from the two corridors away that the other servant had managed to race to.

He shrugs to himself, waiting for a moment to see if anyone else was going to come barrelling around the corner before sighing, and continuing his journey up to the visiting Lord’s chambers.

It was unusual, he thought, how quickly he’d come to terms with the fact that a servant was sassing The King and pranking the knights and inviting himself on various hunts and patrols that he really had no business on. Unusual indeed.

He’d learnt to ignore it. Or at least brush it off.

In the two weeks since Merlin had (presumably) stolen Sir Gwaine’s skin of ale, he’d seen the servant call The King a long list of imaginative insults (what the hell is a dollop head?), walk around with Sir Leon’s cloak on because he was a little chilly, accuse someone of treason (and somehow been right about it), and threaten to kill at least seven people; including, but not limited to: The King himself, The King’s already dead father, some stuck up Noble (though that was under his breath, Tristan just happened to be stood next to him), and Sir Percival.

And Gwen was... absolutely right. He's just... like that. He's Merlin, and that’s what Merlin does.

So when he turns a corner in a rarely used to corridor to see him pressing The King against a wall, snogging the life out of him, Tristan simply turns around and walks back the other way. Both of them look fairly happy with the arrangement, and they’d probably chosen this corridor for the exact same reason Tristan had: it was out of everyone’s way, and was unlikely to be inhabited.

He thinks it’s odd, how... un-odd he finds it. He absent-mindedly thinks that, with the way they acted around each other, he really should’ve seen this coming. A sudden thought occurs to him, and he ducks into a storage cupboard, laying his tray down carefully as he rummages through the boxes. He lets out a quiet “Yay” when he finds what he’s looking for, carefully picking up his tray with only one hand and nudging the door open again with his hip.

He walks back towards the corner he had just turned (and turned again) making a conscious effort to keep his steps quiet; he places the danger sign, usually used where walls had collapsed or windows had been smashed, in the middle of the corridor, a clear indication of “Do Not Enter”.

He nods smugly at his quick thinking and easy handy work before mentally planning the quickest route to the kitchens and following it hurriedly.

He casually wonders if he has time to circle around to the other end of the corridor so he could put another sign down before Cook gets angry at him for being late. Probably not. At least, not before they... finish up and move on. Hmm. He suddenly panics about the thought of them seeing the sign and knowing that someone had spotted them but... well. Hopefully they would just appreciate it and move on.

Yet again, he decides not to bring this up to anyone. He may or may not have overheard a few of the knights making some sort of bet, and he may or may not want to watch on with amusement as they fail to realise that all of them have already lost.

Tristan smiles to himself; working here had turned out to be rather entertaining, in the end.

THE END

I know it’s short, but I really didn’t know what else to add without it sounding like I was just repeating myself over and over😅

I hope y’all enjoyed it!!

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worstloki · 3 years

Note

Do y’all Loki apologists hate Thor or something and if so like why? Odin gaslit him too... Odin gaslit and girlbossed all of the nine realms lmao

Odin may have erased Hela and glorified/painted their past as more justified and peaceful than it was on Asgard but we're not shown him doing this to the other realms. for all we know he simply abandoned places like midgard because muspelheim and jotunheim still know Odin and hold grudges.

How to explain that specifically taking and raising Loki, Jotun, in a place that is explicitly xenophobic towards Jotuns would specifically be a specific thing pertaining to Loki which is a huge central thing shown in Thor 1 without calling you an idiot. Because it's not Thor's reaction to the lies that is important in Thor 3 even at the "end" of his "arc" in that film where he "realizes" the "truth" of their "history". But in Thor 1 Loki's is. It's a huge deal because it is literally King Laufey of Jotunheim, Loki's apparent biological father, that is the co-antagonist of the film and it is finding out he was not just adopted and lied to but was taken a political pawn and lost this use after finding out this fact, that drives the plot forward.

Thor is not shown finding out this truth. The other realms are not shown finding out any supposed truth about any supposed made-up history (I really doubt Odin cared to spread propaganda past Vanaheim tbh, but whatever).

Thor is not given false hope or misconceptions in gaining Asgard's throne because it is to be given to him. Thor has the support of loyal friends who will commit treason and die to save him. Thor, though also abused, was on the other end of things, where we're shown he is adored and given attention and is confident in his reckless decisions. Thor at the start of Thor 1 is loud and arrogant and brash and admittedly immature but part of that involves speaking over his brother in a way that wouldn't be short of abusive itself if it was long-standing, while Loki isn't shown arguing back or defending himself but shutting down and literally sinking into shadows until the vault scene where he finds out the truth of where he came from.

And Loki, admittedly, has a better grasp of how Asgard works. He finds out he's Jotun, that confirms he was taken at the end of the war, just like the Casket was. He asks why he was taken and upon being told he was an innocent child immediately knows that is not it. Knee-deep in Jotun blood, 'peaceful relations' are hardly that even now. He finds out he was adopted, he asks what purpose it was for. And he's right in saying there is one. He's constantly right about worst-case scenarios. (Compare that to Thor who is being dragged the opposite direction into calling Odin a wise king and superspendicular father. Because they were both abused, but Loki is the one who now must see himself as the monster that parents tell their children about at night.

"It all makes sense now. Why you favored Thor all these years."

And sure, don't take his word on this, it's his POV of things, of course it's skewed. Except he has yet to be wrong. Except Thor is the one shown with a weapon from the vault. Except Thor is the one who was chosen to be King. Except we see how Loki is treated and we see how he reacts.

Regardless, Loki feels, knows, that he was not treated equally to Thor, and if he was given the same opportunities he does not feel he was favoured the same way.

"Because no matter how much you claim to love me, you could never have a Frost Giant sitting on the Throne of Asgard!"

Whether or not objective (again, it's Loki's POV, it's how he sees things, and Loki is GOOD at seeing things) the line expresses his opinion on the entire matter. I don't call it apologism to say that he was hurt and reacted. Since that's. Literally what happened. It's not an excuse to say he was mistreated and went mentally off the rails in trying to prove himself worthy or whatever else bc he was abused, but it's a compelling reason that makes sense imo that he would attribute this to w h y he was never worthy and then went through so much villainous effort to prove he still could be useful.

Thor does not understand what Loki speaks of when they argue on 'imagined slights' because he somehow missed that Loki was being mistreated. Genuine mistake, perhaps, but it left Loki in a position where he was getting treated as dirt whereas Thor was put on a pedestal. Both not great situations, and you can't compare abuse, but Loki was additionally shown having to deal with fallout of leaving the situation while Thor 2 was the last time Thor seriously got to reconsider his relation with Odin as a being other than perfect. That conflict and Thor leaving adds a neat layer of depth to Thor's character in my opinion, not unlike what Loki gained at the end of Thor 1.

I can't speak for everyone, and certainly not for apologists since I don't consider myself one, but I don't hate Thor. Loki's suffering is just. not his fault. I don't blame either of them for what position the other was in. But Loki's problems are, on top of everything, things he was born with. Things he can't change and shouldn't have to but still sees as bad.

Also, Thor's redemption arc is great on it's own but not, in my opinion, as fleshed out as Loki's downfall in the same movie. it's not something specific to his identity that he's overcoming because those we're shown on Asgard are also arrogant! they're also into fighting and violence and acting superior! that's standardized Asgardian values for you babey! it's behavioural and stuff Thor can and does attempt to move on from! and then Loki comes along and he's trying to live up to these expectations that he wasn't ever going to be able to live up to because of who he was because whether or not Asgardian-ness is considered Valid In A Given Situation is dependent on Odin! The system of Righteous Judgement is flawed! It's why I blame Odin and Frigga for everything rather than either Thor or Loki, even though I see Thor and Loki as also having an abusive dynamic going for them!

To me Thor as 'the hero who gains humility' is in huge part unique because it occurs at the perfect time for Loki to be fallout damage. (And vice versa with Loki's arc!). Because Thor and Loki act as foils (is that the word?) in Thor 1 and take each other's positions by the end of the film, because Thor learns something was wrong about himself before, he knows something is wrong with his brother right now, even if the entire morality-of-killing discussion has no real part in their discussion.

Thor's own arc through Thor 1-3 means he's genuinely trying to be better, he's just. still working on it. And struggling to acknowledge the past is bad for reasons is difficult bc they were indoctrinated and unlearning stuff is hard. But it CAN be interpreted that way and I love to do so, because Thor being smart but not being self aware until he stops and contemplates things properly is >>> and v/ heroic imo.

Odin gaslights and girlbosses everyone but he does so to Loki far more specifically and about Loki's own identity. Thor gets gatekept about how he's not the firstborn child AND how his brother is adopted and Jotun, Loki gets being the third child PLUS that he's a different species specifically one Asgard doesn't like PLUS a son of Laufey who is literally an enemy king PLUS that he was originally taken as a political token PLUS that being raised as a prince of Asgard with a right to the throne was a lie PLUS even though they raised him they see what he really is as a negative thing and probably intended never to tell him because of it. Loki's downfall is basically showcased lmao.

They were both abused but not in the same way, they were both lied to but I don't consider it equivalent, they're different characters in and of themselves, psychology is up to interpretation, etc.

So whether or not someone dislikes Thor is literally people's choice but I don't particularly hate him, no, though I feel you were being rude in the way you've asked.

I do hate the MCU though so jot that down. So much wasted potential smh.

tldr: yeah odin girlbossed the nine realms. loki was in those nine realms. odin also personally girlbossed loki on top of that. sure thor would get caught in that too since he's closest to loki BU T that's not a central part of his narrative in any film now is it. no, it just serves a temporary 'oh no! ...anyways, moving on so we can fix this' role while Loki's lies stick around.

#odin: loki is jotun actually #Loki: *sobbing*#odin: malekith is alive and so is the aether actually #Thor AND EVERYONE ELSE: *sobbing*#odin: hela is the oldest child actually #thor AND EVERYONE ELSE: *sobbing*#thor always has people on his side #he ALWAYS has support #EVEN WHEN HE LANDS ON EARTH WITH NOTHING BUT HIS NAME THE FIRST PEOPLE HE MEETS HELP HIM AND BECOME FRIENDS #when LOKI deals with problems it's alone #doesn't matter how pure hearted or delightful his intentions are he does things on his own #trusting people literally gets him nowhere lmao #when LOKI lands somewhere new WITH NOTHING BUT HIS NAME the (presumably) FIRST PEOPLE HE MEETS ARE THE OTHER/THANOS #YOU KNOW #THAT Other and Thanos #the ones that torture and threaten and the one that is the Big Bad of 3 phases that personally chokes him to death #YOU KNOW???#wild #anyway #i don't hate thor #i just wish he hadn't been done so dirty later in the MCU #thor 1-thor 2 thor my beloved #etc.#because he's a jerk earlier but like. i dont hate him for it. he's literally a character??? the dismissive words add to who he was #this is wild #you know.

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superhero--imagines · 3 years

Text

Part 1 Here! / Part 3 Here!/ Playlist Here!

A/N: Maybe one last part after this?

Ko-Fi l Etsy l Commission Info Here

* You’re sitting on a bench outside, listening to Shoko and Nanami talk about something

* The breeze caresses your face

* It’s so quiet

* You haven’t experienced silence like this in years

* And there’s only one reason why you’re suddenly experiencing it now

* Your eyes stray from the dancing branches that hover above you to the dancing white-haired boy across the courtyard

* He’s talking to Geto about something, laughing as he does

* His sky blue eyes meet yours for a second, before abruptly looking away

* Not the usual flirtatious wink and wave he would normally give you

* You don’t know why, but it’s like Gojo’s lost every ounce of interest he had in you

* It looks like that prank you pulled on him is what did it-

* Apparently Geto had to help get the glass down

* He hasn’t tried speaking to you once since then, and every time your eyes meet he looks away just like he did a second ago

* What a baby, so he can dish it out but he can’t take it when someone uses his own tactics against him huh?

* It’s for the best really, you don’t want anything to do with him

* Besides if that moron just wanted someone who wasn’t going to react or get mad, then he should just date a sex doll

* It’s for the best, really

* So why are you so upset right now

* The prickle of irritation burns in your chest even when you turn away from the two boys, joining in on Shoko and Nanami’s conversation

* On the other side, Geto lets out a low whistle

* “Never thought I would see the day a lady killer like you would get embarrassed because you made eye contact with your crush” Geto grins when Gojo flushes a light pink.

* Geto almost wants to laugh, what happened to the womanizing-god-complex freak who was here just a second ago?

* “Don’t say lady-killer, you know I like men too, I’m an equal opportunity lover” Gojo gloats while running his fingers through his hair

* Ah, it looks like he’s on his bullshit again

* “You better watch out Geto, if you’re too much of tsundere I might fall for you next” the words are emphasized with a wink, and Geto can’t help but laugh

* “Whatever dude, don’t come crying to me when they start to hate you because you’re being flakey”

* Gojo laughs it off

* But late that night, while he’s lying in bed watching the shadows flicker on his ceiling he can’t help but wonder-

* What if you really do end up hating him?

* It’s not that he doesn’t want to be around you anymore or anything-

* He just doesn’t know how to approach you anymore now that he knows he’s in love with you

* “I’ve probably been in love for a while” he mumbles

* He’s not really sure when it started.

* At first it was just for shits and giggles

* Something to keep him entertained, and you just happened to be the most entertaining thing around

* So when did it stop being ‘anyone’s fine’ and start being ‘it’s only fine if it’s you’?

* He sighs turning to face the wall, he doesn’t understand his own feelings

* Yeah he’s got all this money and power and influence-

* But right now he’s just a boy in love for the first time

* And he doesn’t know how to handle that

* “I just don’t want them to hate me” he mumbles, feeling his eyes close shut

* He’ll try to talk to you tomorrow

* Even if it’s just a simple ‘good morning’

* At least it’ll be something

* But to his annoyance, he’s told he has to go save his classmates from a curse

* And then everything with the star vessel happens

* And he doesn’t see you for a while and he thinks-

* “Well maybe this is fine, maybe it’s better this way. They’re probably happy now that I’m not around always annoying them”

* And just as he’s thinking maybe this is for the best, that if someone leaves your life it probably means they weren’t supposed to be apart of it anyway -

* When you come barreling into his life again

* “Oi, Baka prince, where did sensei say this kid's house was again?” You ask, eyebrows threading together as you fidget with your phone

* Yaga-sensei sent you to accompany Gojo on his ‘mission’ to retrieve Megumi Fushiguro

* It looks like the only people who can reign Gojo in are you and Geto

* Not that you mind the impromptu mission, and besides- you don’t think Gojo is someone who should be alone around kids

* Gojo actually flinches when you speak to him, you’d traveled in silence so far, standing side by side without exchanging a word on the train.

* You sigh, you know he isn’t interested in you but the least he can do is be somewhat pleasant

* Even that usual annoying demeanor of his would be fine

* You’re not sure why but that prickle of irritation burns in you again, seeping through in the nickname you gave him

* Gojo doesn’t meet your eyes, those clear blue pupils are averted slightly as a pink blush singes his face

* “I’m not sure, I’ve just been following the cursed energy” he admits with an uncharacteristically shy gaze

* Okay WTF

* Gojo would never let the opportunity to tell you how weak you are for being unable to “even feel this amount of cursed energy”

* Who is this freak and what has he done to the real Gojo Satoru

* “Are you sick or something?” You ask

* Your hand’s already moving to cover his forehead, and you feel like somethings off

* Your eyebrows thread together as your peer closer, noticing a small gap where your hand and his forehead

* Ah right, the infinity he has around him

* You never realized it before but you wonder, can he ever feel anything?

* It must be lonely

* Gojo’s looking down at you, swallowing a lump in his throat.

* The expression on your face looks so tender, and you’re so close he can smell your scent

* And he feels a sudden urge to cry, to bury his face in your shoulder and weep like a child

* He’s watching you open your mouth, you’re about to say something-

* When you both feel a large burst of cursed energy

* Your heads snap to the direction you sense it from only to see a small boy

* You recognize him as Megumi Fushiguro, your target for this so-called ‘mission’

* He’s younger than you expected, he can’t be older than 10

* You turn to Gojo, you’re going to need a plan, someone that young is awfully impressionable. You have to do this with some tact

* But when you turn to look he’s gone

* “Huh?”

* You can practically see the outline of his form where he was standing just a second ago, your neck creaking as you turn to where Megumi-Kun is standing

* “Your father sold you to the Zenin Clan”

* You might appear calm and collected on the outside, but I promise you your soul has ascended to the fourth dimension where you are just screaming into the void

* “Well does it make you mad? Does it-“ Gojo’s waggling his fingers like a god damn perv when you basically apparate to his side and bring your fist down on his head

* “Oi, Baka prince what the hell do you think you’re doing?!?”

* Gojo’s stumbles back, nursing the emotional wound you just gave him and you crouch down

* “Don’t listen to anything that moronic man just told you, he’s got no tact” you tell the boy

* He’s a cutie, like the male version of Snow White.

* Though his expression tells you he’s about had it with this reality

* “Yeah I can see that”

* “Well he might act like a moron, but he’s got a pretty decent heart”

* You spell out the situation to Megumi as tactfully as you can, opting to treat him like an adult.

* “These are your options as I see them, you can go to the Zenin clan, or, that Baka prince already stopped the sale in return for you promising to join our academy”

* You and Megumi get along pretty well, you’re kindred souls

* Besides you both seem to be able to see right through Gojo’s princely appearance

* “Why did you guys leave me behind?” Gojo shrieks, Megumi’s hand is in your own, both of your free hands holding ice cream cones

* Megumi immediately makes a face, it had been so quiet while he was gone too

* You can’t help but sympathize with the kid, you used to feel that way before you got to know Gojo too

* You were just showing Megumi around the campus, helping him get familiar, and you thought you should reward him a little with a treat for being such a good kid

* Besides you like him

* Of course Gojo wanted to tag along, teasing Megumi half of the time like a damn idiot and spending the other half of the time giving flirtatious winks to women who seemed interested in him.

* Gojo’s making a scene and Megumi looks like he’s a second from throwing a tantrum too

* You sigh, you don’t get paid enough for having to deal with these two children

* “Here” when Gojo looks up, bright blue eyes peering over his black glasses he sees a scoop full of his favorite ice cream balancing on top of a chocolate-dipped waffle cone

* “But what about you?” He asks and the questions catches you off guard, since when has Gojo cared about anyone but himself?

* “I don’t want any, I just thought it would be good to get in line while we waited.”

* You didn’t think you would actually get to the front of the line before he caught up though.

* “No! You waited in line that whole time, here we can take share, take the first bite”

* You’ve kept your cool in front of Gojo for years but something about the expectant expression he’s giving you - the tops of his cheeks bright pink- and those bright blue eyes looking at you while holding out the ice cream cone that makes you flustered

* You can feel your face grow warm, geez what’s gotten into him

* To make matters worse you’re having a hard time saying no to him right now

* Something about those crystal blue eyes has you almost mesmerized

* And then Megumi stands up on the bench and takes a giant bite from the cone

* Cue Gojo screaming and crying because, goddammit he was this close to an indirect kiss with you-

* “Why did you do that?” He shrieks, he’s crouched on the ground, face bright red in anger and anguish

* “I don’t know, the green tea ice cream looked good” Megumi shrugs, only for Gojo to start shrieking again

* Gojo and Megumi are about a second from a fistfight when they hear laughter

* The gentle twinkling gets louder and they both instinctively turn towards it

* You’re laughing so hard you’re clutching your stomach, tears forming at the corners of your eyes

* “Geez you guys are like something out of a cartoon.” You manage to say in between laughs

* Megumi’s eyes widen

* He’s seen you smile before, but he’s never seen you laugh like that

* Megumi wonders what he’s thinking right bow

* His eyes trail to Gojo

* Gojo looks at you like you just hung the moon

* Like he’s a child seeing fireworks for the first time

* Megumi will never forget the look on Gojo’s face for as long as he lives

* ‘So that’s what it looks like when you love someone’ Megumi thinks

* Gojo pats Megumi on the head

* “Thanks kid, because of you I got to see something nice”

* You guys grow a lot closer because of Megumi, becoming sort of surrogate older siblings to him and Tsumiki

* “Why did you bring a Kotatsu?” You and Megumi are standing in the doorway holding takeout and oranges

* “Winter time just doesn’t feel right without a Kotatsu, isn’t that right Tsumiki-Chan?”

* The young girl grins as she nods, snuggling deeper into the blanket

* You and Megumi give each other an incredulous look

* Leave it to a little rich boy like Gojo Satoru to buy a Kotatsu for a casual hang out just because it’s winter

* Still-

* You watch as Megumi and Tsumiki cuddle under the Kotatsu, peeling oranges

* The kids seem to be enjoying it

* Gojo pats the spot next to him

* “I saved you a spot (Y/N/N), I promise I won’t bite” but Gojo’s giving you that same teasing grin he always used to give you

* Looks like things are back to normal

* You sigh taking a seat beside him, stealing your resolve as you put up with his incessant teasing

* Everything is back to the way it was...so why do you still feel that prickle in your stomach every time he looks at you?

* And the following weeks that familiar sensation makes appearances several times, leaving you more confused each time

* It’s not until you’re walking in Shibuya, one of your hands holding Megumi’s and the other one holding a Taiyaki full of ice cream that you realize

* “Gojoooooo” the woman in front of you whines “you’re so mean, I can’t believe you didn’t call me, because I know you had a good time”

* The woman’s pouty expression turns wolffish in a second

* Ah, so that’s where he learned to smile like that

* You and Megumi are mostly just enjoying the show, eating your ice cream and watching as Satoru tries to placate this woman

* “I’ve just been taking some time to better myself-“

* You snort, yeah you’re sure he’s been bettering himself with his dozen other lovers

* Honestly serves him right for fooling around with so many people. You’re surprised he’s not habitually in the infirmary for a new STD

* “You see, I’m a father now”

* You sputter choking on your ice cream. Megumi pats your back

* That idiot prince has really gone and done it now-

* Having an illegitimate child,

* Yaga-Sensei is going to kill him

* Not to mention what his clan might do

* Gojo looks back at you with warm eyes

* And you feel that pricking feeling again

* “Megumi is my pride and joy”

* Huh?

* Oh

* OHHHHH

* So that’s his game.

* What a sleaze bag using someone else’s kid as an excuse to get out of an uncomfortable romantic encounter

* Megumi squeezes your hand and you look down

* The look on his face could kill a man

* “I’d never call a pervert like you my Father”

* So Megumi woke up and chose violence today-

* You figure Gojo will laugh and cover it up with some jokes like ‘kids these days no respect for their elders’ or something

* But when you look at Gojo he looks genuinely hurt, those vibrant blue eyes look watery, and that pretty mouth that’s always curled in a grin is curved into a soft frown.

* And before you know what you’re doing you say-

* “Megumi-Chan you shouldn’t be so mean to your Father, he let you have ice cream before dinner didn’t he?”

* .

* ...

* .....

* WHY DID YOU JUST SAY THAT

* Megumi and Gojo are both looking at you with vacant stares

* Megumi is still in shock that you took Gojo’s side in this

* But Gojo’s looking right at you, cheeks holding a rosy tinge

* And then something amazing happens

* Gojo smiles at you-

* Not that wolfish smile he’s been showing you for years as he teases you, or that princely smile he uses to get something he wants

* It’s a genuine smile

* And you can’t help but think he doesn’t look at all like the most powerful sorcerer, he just looks like a boy

* Ah, there’s that painful prickle again

* “I love my family so won’t see you anymore, go ahead and delete my contact information,” Gojo says with a grin

* He walks over to you in long strides, hoisting Megumi up and carrying him all while the woman shouts obscenities

* “Come on (Y/N/N), let’s go home,” he says, his hand moving to hold your own

* And all you can do is let him tug you forward

* Your gaze lingers on your intertwined hands, the heat that radiates from his palm even though there’s an infinity between you both

* Your eyes trail up to look at his broad back, the way he holds Megumi so easily even though he’s pulling on Gojo’s hair

* The prickle intensifies as you watch them

* ‘He would make a good Dad his spouse will be lucky’ you think

* And then it hits you

* Oh

* Oh no

* Oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no

* You’re in love with Gojo Satoru

* The f*ckboy extraordinaire

* F*ck

* How did this even happen? You had been so careful, you were even apart of that down with Gojo Satoru club with Nanami and Geto

* Are they going to revoke your membership now?

* F*********ck

* “Hurry up and put me down you pervert!” Megumi shouts, a fistful of Gojo’s white hair in his hand

* “Ora Ora, you shouldn’t be mean to papa like that Megumi-Chan” Gojo teases, not even the slightest bit fazed

* Megumi’s only grabbing onto the infinity around his hair after all, so it probably doesn’t hurt

* “Here Megumi,” you abandon your ice cream without a thought, carefully lifting him out of Gojo’s hold and onto the ground

* Megumi doesn’t say anything, he only holds your hand in his

* “Hold Papa’s hand too Megumi-Chan otherwise I’ll feel lonely” Gojo teases, but you can tell he really does want Megumi to hold his hand

* “If it’ll get you to shut up” Megumi grumbles, but he reached up, taking Gojo’s hand in his

* The three of you probably look like a family, and this time the prickling feels warm, like a tickle across your stomach

* Like butterflies

* F********************ck

* “For F*cks sake, how am I going to get out of this one” you mumble to yourself

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu icons #gojou satoru x reader #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru imagine #gojo satoru fluff #gojo satoru headcanon #jujutsu kaisen imagine #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #gojo satoru jjk #satoru gojo

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ohheyitsokay · 3 years

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this all takes place in my poly frontier universe

pairing: triple frontier guys - Will “Ironhead” Miller, Santiago “Pope” Garcia, Francisco (Frankie) “Catfish” Morales, and Ben “Benny” Miller x (f) reader

wordcount: 3k

warnings: obviously a poly relationship, which includes kissing, domestic intimacy with all of them (not just with the reader, but not in-between Will and Ben because nope), mild sexual themes

summary: scenes at the beginning of making a house with five people feel like home

The manicured grass is soft where it peaked around the edges of your sandals. Hands running over the grooves of they key in your pocket, you gaze around the little front yard, mind conjuring daydreams that fit on the weathered porch of the house.

Two bathrooms will be enough right? Your thoughts are running - creating and erasing images of the future, trying to squish them like magic into the home in front of you. The yard is big enough to extend the garage and for plenty of home projects…

Across the fence and a long stretch of field, a woman is hiking her skirts up, making a beeline for you. The neighbor’s house is a considerable distance away, being out in the countryside, but she must have been watching your tour from her garden with interest.

The others had left moments before, Santi promising to come back whenever you were done. After weeks of looking at houses, it became a little ritual of yours, to spend a few minutes looking around without the clutter of wonderful distractions.

“So which one of those strapping young men is your beau?” She asks conspiringly, eyes gleaming. It catches you off guard – the lack of introduction, but she seems harmless enough.

Your smile is equally mischievous, and your head tilts a hair.

“Well, which one do you think?”

The woman considers, boot tip tapping away at her grass. You replay the moments she could’ve seen, which were few, wondering if you’d leaned in any particular direction, and wait.

“Now that I think about it, I haven’t got a clue,” her smile is wide, softer and more genuine than before - polite. “As long as you’re good neighbors,” she explains, “I guess I wouldn’t care if it was one or all of you next door.”

You smile, thanking her as salutations ring in your ears, watching with grateful eyes as she hikes back towards her home. Then you move, wandering through the empty rooms for long, quite minutes before you peak over the fence again. The woman had gone inside, and if you squint you can see who you think is her husband, sleeping with a dog on the porch.

In the other directions, there isn’t a house within a reasonable distance. A knot loosens in your chest, as an unexpected feeling of freedom from judging eyes blooms in its place.

When Santi comes back to pick you up, you take his hand across the console. His skin is warm, and his thumb automatically begins to gently move across your knuckles.

“I think it’s perfect, Pope.”

He looks at you curiously, minding his thoughts for a moment.

“Yeah, love?”

The sun was beginning to set, and you look at the peaceful little home in the rear view mirror, and smile.

“Yeah.”

“What?”

“We need to … break in every room.”

“I’m just saying -"

“Oh he’s talking about – wait are you really horny, right now?”

“There are boxes everywhere, idiot.”

You walk in carrying a single plant and a stack of pizzas and the conversation hushes.

“Ah – payment,” Frankie kisses your cheek, moving the plant by the window as Santi clears the table.

Someone makes a quip about it being Santi’s house and you wince, the utopia popping.

“We don’t get paid to move our own stuff, Catfish.” His dark hair is damp with sweat but he seems otherwise unaffected by the hours spent hauling. It was still surreal – that this is actually happening, that this unanimously became a long term desire.

He has the most money and Will has the best credit score, so they bought the house to save you all from questions. The movement isn’t lost on your Ironhead, and he rubs a soothing circle on your shoulder as he reaches for a plate. Of everyone, he was the one who most understood your anxiety – close proximity always led to arguments at first.

“You got lucky,” Benny takes the first slice, accepting a napkin for an additional piece. “You fell in love with a pretty good moving crew.”

“I think so,” you grin, trying to ignore your anxiety. He inhales the food, pulling you into his lap as he bickers with Will about whether or not more needed to get done today.

Eventually Frankie dictates that at the very least some cleaning should be started and the bedding should be unpacked for the evening. The agree with varying degrees of enthusiasm and after a handful of innuendos your loves begin to disperse, too dutiful to let work go unfinished. The bedframe practically builds itself, and a portable speaker makes Santi’s hips twitch as he floats through the half-barren rooms.

When Will rolls his eyes at Frankie’s choice of screw, you duck away, nerves thrumming.

And you wander around, fake cleaning, until you find your Benny clearing pizza plates. Even amongst boxes and bins and old blankets, he could be at a photo shoot. The evening light make his hair look like silk, and his eyes shine like he’s making you promises this very moment.

“I wouldn’t worry too much,” he says, drawing you into his arms as your head tilts. “We spent years in bunks and tents, and we were younger then.”

His chest was warm and you press your cheek to it, nodding. You hadn’t thought he had noticed, how anxious you’d been about the change, but you had been foolish. Even through his shirt, you can feel the thumping of his giant heart, steady as a drumbeat.

Replaying the evening in your mind, you let go of some of your worries, one by one, and he kisses the top of your head. It’s a thoughtful thing, and it never ceases to amaze you how easily he can wrap you around his finger.

“Ben?”

He makes a noise, somewhere between a hum and a grunt.

You pull his face down to yours, kissing him hard. It was a kiss that says you're grateful, and a kiss that says you love him for being… him.

He accepts it eagerly, and tiredness from the day long gone ad he presses hot, open-mouthed kisses to your lips. The world spins and you feel him shove something heavy off the couch before replacing it with you.

The cushions are dusty from everything but he makes space, and you stop caring as he moves on top of you.

The others would find you soon, their instincts kicking in, but you savor it. Benny, pressing into you, kissing you in the evening light.

The beginning of their conversation from earlier blooms in your mind and you grin as his lips trailed down your neck. It suddenly didn’t seem implausible that he planned this.

“Breaking in” aside, this was the first room you where you truly felt like this could be home.

You feel his hands gently replace yours on the zipper and you jump a little - he stands just outside the mirror reflection as you watch the skirts around your ankles. Behind you the big bed is made neatly, there’s a ridiculously large closet, and a tangle of phone chargers.

The bedroom: the place that set apart your home from others. The room that housed five individuals, a web of relationships, a miracle of mixed bodies and minds and hearts.

It looks big, behind you.

Warm, daft fingers tie the extra strings, a neat little bow hanging just between your shoulder blades. The silence is thick, weighted with adoration, but when he breaks it, it’s as if he can’t resist.

“You’re beautiful,” he moves closer, kissing your temple and drinking you in. Turning, your heart aches.

Will is in his dress uniform, crisscrossed with crisp lines and newly shined awards. His hair is lighter after the summer, and he tried to comb it neatly to one side. Compliments catch in your throat as you stare and he smiles, turning you gently so he can kiss you properly. His mouth tastes like mint and you can smell hints of his cologne lingering on his skin.

“Look at you,” you murmur, lips still brushing over his. Letting your hands wander over his face, smoothing his eyebrows, you feel almost in awe of him. Still, he flushes, pleased at your reaction.

“Thank you.”

His chuckle is warm, almost raspy as he tries to enjoy the quietness of your conversation, and he shakes his head. Really, you were sure he was thankful that he was been the only one free for your special evening.

“Thank you,” you correct him. “You didn’t have to do any of this.” The dinner, for your job.

In the mirror, he looked like diamonds and sapphires and gold. Will was like an action figure sometimes, solid and sculpted and stoic, but… he was looking at you like you’d hung the stars in the sky.

It made you blink, his eyes sliding over you, pupils just a little more blown than the lighting required - a gentle reset demanding your attention.

Looking back in the mirror for a moment, the room didn’t seem quite as big, or quite as revealing. It was comforting, how out of place the two of you looked, dressed to the nines because… this was your place. The softness surrounded by details perfectly woven into your life.

Turning, you slip your arms around his neck, gently musing his hair, and his eyebrows draw together, accepting, but confused.

And as you tuck your hand into his elbow and step into your heels, you resist the urge to thank him again.

“I like it better like this,” you admit, and he flushes again, beaming. Looking around, you realize you’re actually looking forward to coming home more than you’re excited to leave. It’s a new feeling, in this space with the four of them and it hits you, hard in your chest. Still, the man beside you is unwavering and you let the feeling consume you, knowing that you’re safe.

“Frankie, what is that?”

He flinches, nervousness cutting the excitement on his face.

“Rhetorical question,” Santi says, grinning at you. “He got it from a friend who was going to toss it out.”

It’s a hot tub, taking up a decent chunk of your back porch.

“If anyone can make it work like a dream, it’s Catfish.” Will’s tone is matter-of-fact, all honesty and pride.

Your sweet Francisco drops his tool and grabs your hand, his dark eyes big. “¿Cariño, por favor? From me, to you?” You can see his laptop up, replacement parts on saved tabs, and you tiptoe to kiss his cheek. He likes to have projects, needs to have somewhere to do things, fix things, create things. Maybe at one point it was because he liked the distraction, it was a … replacement coping mechanism, if you will, but it became his pride, to use his hands to improve your lives.

It doesn’t take long, two weeks at most, between his job and his loves, and his long list of honey-dos, but he does it.

“Please and thank you,” you say, and when he kisses you, slow and deep and happy, you hear cheers and high-five and you almost can’t kiss him because he’s smiling.

And it takes awhile to fill, (Will thanking the stars that the water bill is reasonable,) and even longer to heat, and then it’s ready. The boys yank on swim trunks, thanking Frankie with enthusiasm, and you watch them sink into the steaming tub with as they sigh.

You have a bathing suit, of course you do, but you pull on one of his work shirts, knowing he won’t mind the chemicals from the water making the stains blur. And you pair of shorts you caught him watching your butt in, thinking of acknowledging his hard work in your own way.

The volume of your bodies makes it overflow, hot water sloshing onto the ground, but it’s bliss. It’s big, and they shout over the bubbles, talking excitedly about the future, and your heart feels warm in your favorite way.

The others leave early, taking loud laughter with them, and it leaves you and your Catfish. You let yourself float, moving right on top of him, and his hands grab at your hips, slipping and sliding over your skin as he kisses you once, twice. Slow.

It’s late – the stars stretch, there’s a bit of a breeze, and there’s not a light on for miles.

“You like it?” his voice is raspy, quiet, intense, but almost shy. Like if you said no it would break him in two.

“Of course I do, Frankie.” He looks pleased, hand absentmindedly running under his shirt and over your side. Even with the heat of the water, his hand feels like socks warmed in the dryer some cold winter morning. Comforting, maybe a little electric.

You let out a long, happy sigh, and settle against him, content to stay with him until you’re pruny.

“I think…. This is exactly what this house needed.” He starts a little, surprised, but it’s not an exaggeration.

There was always work to do and things to change, but it was the first time you looked out, and didn’t feel a twinge of fear, that anyone was looking in. It would’ve felt vulnerable, intimate to be so exposed, but… it was perfect, because he created it for you. Confidence and pride bubble around you, and Frankie’s eyebrows dip as he smiles – understanding.

“Yeah.” Its simple, not too hot, not too cold. Just… right.

It feels like… tar and lava, hot and dark and thick, bubbling and sticky and you want to punch something. Or scream, or cry.

Your Pope finds you standing rigid, smudges of flour on your skin and clothes, pans and spatulas strewn.

“Are we out of sugar?” To your credit, you try to keep your voice even, but he knows you better than that.

Santi shakes his head, plucking it from the pantry and looking guilty. Your mind pauses it’s rampage, and you wince, because you should be the one making that apologetic face, not him. Hot tears bubble in your eyes and you hate it, hate that they’re coming for what feels like no reason.

“Baby,” he says, tone pleading, setting the sugar down and reaching for you. The afternoon sun makes his eyes like rich, deep pots of gold, his hair somehow both soft and statuesque.

When he pauses, the tears fall against your will, just two thick drops down your cheeks. His hand encompasses your whole jaw, thumb gentle as it rubs away the saltwater, and he looks a tad helpless.

And there’s understanding in his eyes and through the blur you think maybe it’s pity. He stands, and your heart clenches, knowing he’ll go get Will, or someone because you’re being ridiculous but… he doesn’t.

You’re saying something about how the kitchen is wrong, how it’s been building for days, you’ve been here almost a week and you can’t fucking find anything. Panic and frustration locked horns in your chest and you couldn’t breathe and all you wanted to do was make something nice –

Instead, he’s pulling out things and piling them onto the floor in categories around you. It’s almost comical the stacks he makes but he seems determined and in your confusion the tears slow to a stop.

“Santi –” he hushes you. The cupboard doors hang open, and he guides you, lifting you up and up and into his arms. It’s solid and grounding, and he’s not as tall as the others and you needed him desperately.

And slowly, you begin to put things away where it makes sense, to you, and he helps. Not once does he argue with you, not even a moment when his dark eyebrows knit together in judgement. Dutifully he cleans and places everything just where you tell him, and you can almost feel the steam rising off of you as you begin to cool.

The final pile is a mountain of cloth, aprons and oven mitts and… something you’ve never seen before. Or actually, something you had, just not in your house. A set of hand towels you’d wistfully looked at awhile ago, before talking yourself out of the purchase. You had dozens at this point and didn’t need more but…

The man seating on the floor, folding them into perfect squares, is the answer to the question your mind produces.

You feel like you’ve been hosed down from head to toe, almost cold from the absence of frustration in your blood.

Pushing the pile to the side you climb into his lap, as determined as he was, and he looks surprised. It’s silly: sitting in your lover’s lap on the kitchen floor, but it feels more real than a movie. It’s your kitchen, yours and his, in this moment.

You kiss him, slow and purposeful and –

He knows you like the back of his hand.

You’re sitting on the bathroom counter distracting Santi as he shaves when Benny bursts in to tell you a story.

Will trails behind him, patiently waiting for his brother to take a breathe so he can set the record straight. Absentmindedly he weaves between them to pick up a fallen hand towel, passing it to Pope to wipe the shaving cream from his jaw. They share a moment and Benny’s story stutters out. Looking up from your nails you see Frankie leaning against the doorframe, a toothbrush hanging from his mouth.

There’s hardly room to move – and you couldn’t have it any other way.

His eyebrows are bent as he takes in the four of you, crammed into the spare bathroom, and Ben laughs.

taglist:

@fangirl-316 @scribbledghost @writeforfandoms @beautyagegoodnesssize @princess76179 @mrsbentallmadge @horton-hears-a-honk

for the poly frontier:

@grogusmum

#triple frontier poly fic #poly frontier #will miller x reader #santiago garcia x reader #francisco morales x reader #benny miller x reader #maybe i dont know people

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