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moonstruckme · 6 months

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Could I request poly marauders x reader who was always judged at home on what she ate when she was little, and now subconsciously hides her food from the marauders (like she doesn’t even realize she’s doing it) I completely understand if you’re not comfortable doing this req!

Thanks honey!

cw: reader experiences shame around eating "bad" foods

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

“You know what I could use right now?” Sirius asks about halfway through the film, right on schedule. “A little treat.”

You smile, and James hops up gamely. “I’ll see what we have,” he says. Remus chuckles as you and Sirius both turn around on the couch, watching eagerly as James goes into the kitchen. “Ice cream?” he asks, as if he doesn’t know already.

“Obviously,” Sirius confirms.

James opens the freezer. “Alright, we have rocky road…half a pint of mint chip…rum raisin—Remus, you’re an old man.” Remus shrugs with a little smile. You think that he’s probably just glad no one else wants anything to do with his flavor of choice. “Also plain vanilla, and…” James pauses, moving things aside and reaching into the back of the freezer. “...chocolate cherry. This yours, angel?”

You’d forgotten you’d bought that. “Yeah,” you tell him, “but it’s open to everyone, of course.”

James sends you an odd look. “Why’d you have it back behind the frozen peas?”

“I didn’t know it was back there,” you say with a shrug. “I just put things there automatically, I guess.”

There’s a crinkling sound as James moves more bags of frozen vegetables aside. “There’s also a box of thin mints and an ice cream sandwich.”

“Ooh, can I have that?” Sirius asks, giving you a pleading look.

You smile at him. “Course you can. And Jamie, would you bring me the chocolate cherry, please?”

James still has a funny look on his face as he shuts the freezer, bringing you and Sirius your frozen treats. You turn around once he hands it to you, finding Remus watching you with a similar expression.

“What?” you ask, popping the lid off your ice cream. James squishes between you and Sirius, the four of you barely fitting on the couch.

Remus looks like he’s turning something over in his head. “Why was all that back behind the frozen vegetables, love?”

You shrug, happily sucking ice cream off your spoon. “I dunno. I just put it there, I guess.”

“It just…” Remus shrugs, and he’s wearing that tiny smile he does when he’s trying to make light of something he doesn’t consider light at all. You tilt your head bemusedly. “It makes it seem like you were trying to hide them or something.”

“She’s always hiding food,” Sirius says airily, munching on his dessert. “Like the oreos behind the soup cans.” You all look at him, and he stops chewing. “Was that not something we all knew?”

“I don’t…I didn’t think I was hiding anything.” You cross your arms, feeling defensive without really knowing why. There’s a whole number of things you don’t know about yourself, apparently.

“It’s alright, darling,” Remus says soothingly, placing a hand on your thigh, “just so long as you don’t think you have to hide anything from us.”

“I don’t,” you say, but you’re looking at your lap and your face feels hot. You don’t, right? Why would you?

“Sorry for calling you out like that, babe,” Sirius says through a mouthful. “I figured it was intentional, and you just didn’t want us to eat your food. Nobody here cares what you eat, y’know.”

“I know,” you promise him. “I guess…I just get a little embarrassed sometimes. Like, if I pig out, I don’t want everyone to know because suddenly a whole box of oreos is gone or whatever.”

“First of all, as if we would even notice,” James scoffs, giving you a friendly shake by the shoulder. “And second, it’s like Sirius said—we don’t care what you eat, sweetheart. Or how much of it. If you want to eat a box of oreos, that’s your business. That’s not even that many oreos.” He shakes his head like you’re silly. “No one’s going to judge you for it.”

It’s not surprising to hear him say that, and yet you can’t make yourself believe it’s true. Your boyfriends may not say anything about your eating habits—to your face or even to each other—but there’s no way that if they knew every detail, they wouldn’t think it was shameful.

“Also,” Remus says, arching an eyebrow, “I don’t love the phrase ‘pig out.’ There’s nothing wrong with having a treat—”

“Duh,” Sirius cuts in, toasting with his half-eaten ice cream sandwich.

“—and you shouldn’t feel like you have to hide things like that from us,” Remus finishes with a nod to appease Sirius. “If you don’t mind me asking, did you put your food in hiding places before you moved in with us?”

You gnaw on your lip as you think back to pints of ice cream stowed in the ice cube dispenser when you lived at home, eating before your parents got back from work and quickly putting it away again when you heard cars approaching. Back then, you’d hidden dishes in your room too, evidence of food you knew wouldn’t be approved of crusted onto plates and bowls you were keeping stashed there until you could wash them without anyone noticing.

“I guess so,” you say, and you can feel Remus’ eyes on yours but can’t bring yourself to meet them. You don’t know whether your shame is for your love of junk food or the odd habit of secrecy you’ve fallen into because of it. It might be both. “I used to do it when I lived at home, but I didn’t realize I was doing it here.”

“That’s alright, sweetheart,” James says hastily, panicking in the face of your solemn change in mood. “So long as you know we don’t care, it’s not like you hiding it is hurting anyone.”

“It’s hurting me,” Sirius protests. “We had ice cream sandwiches, and I had no idea!”

You laugh, and James visibly relaxes. “Alright, I’ll try to stop putting things way in the back so that you can find them. I’m not trying to hoard, I swear.”

“Keeping all the good stuff for yourself.” Sirius shakes his head at you. “That sweet face hides some pretty selfish tendencies, huh?”

“Actually, could I grab a few of your oreos?” Remus asks before you and Sirius can really get into it. “That sounds pretty good right now.”

“Yes!” you say. “Yes, please, have as many as you want. Sorry I kept them to myself, it wasn’t on purpose.”

James takes your jaw in a big hand, pressing a slobbery smooch to your cheek. “You’re forgiven, sweetpea.” He raises his eyebrows. “If I can have some of those thin mints.”

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erwinsvow · 24 days

Text

YOU LOOK SO SWEET — RC.

“i can’t believe you made out with sarah’s brother,” your friend comments. you choke on your water.

it had been an hour or so since your friends had dragged you out of the bar, bringing you home with them for the pre-planned sleepover that you had been ready to ditch for rafe. in that time you and your friends had taken off your makeup and changed into pajamas, munching on pizza on the floor of your bedroom while discussing the night’s events like you always did. you wipe your mouth, looking up at them incredulously.

“what?”

“you didn’t know that was rafe cameron? shut up.”

“he’s a psycho, that’s what she always says-”

“he was really nice to me,” you defend, not liking the way your friends sound right now. the rest of the night goes like that—you trying to counter and justify everything rafe did for you last night with your friends telling you it’s a good thing they dragged you away.

they fall asleep shortly after, but you lie awake, staring at the ceiling and wondering what time your friends will leave in the morning. you’re making plans to go to tannyhill.

normally breakfast the morning after going out is a sacred ritual between you and your friends, which is why they’re extra surprised when you usher them out without any real reason. you hurry back to the kitchen after their car drives away, getting everything ready to make cookies and wondering which kind rafe likes best.

rafe sees it from inside tannyhill—the white bike with the wicker basket pulling up the driveway, the tiny figure dressed in pink parking it next to his truck. you climb off your bike and even from up here he can appreciate how short your dress is, how you almost gave the gardeners a show. he's gotta teach you to be more careful.

you reach into the basket to pull out a matching pink container, walking up to the front door. he’s down the stairs and opening the door before you’ve even had a chance to ring the doorbell.

you beam at rafe, hoping he remembers you and wasn’t drunk during that entire encounter. you smile brightly, offering the pink box of cookies to him.

“sorry to just drop by like this. i made cookies for you. um, to say thank you.”

“yeah, kid? that’s real cute.”

“oh. thank you.” he looks down at you, leaning against the door frame.

your chest is heaving, material of your tight dress moving up and down while you keep your gaze fixed on him, eyes big and blinking fast. you don’t even realize how you look right now, trusting and innocent and staring up at rafe like you’d do whatever he asked. if you looked like prey yesterday night, you’re the definition of an offering today, walking straight into the predator’s den.

“i didn’t know what kind you liked, so i made a whole bunch.”

“yeah?”

“yeah.” you stare back at rafe for another few seconds, then tear your eyes away. you think he wants you to go, and as much as you like him, as much as you feel a little brainless around him, you’re not stupid—you can tell when you’re not wanted. “well, i should go. thanks again for last night.”

“stop thankin’ me. it was nothin’.” rafe steps out of the house, just a foot from you on the porch now. his hand comes to rest on your shoulder and you nearly jump at the touch. “come inside. can’t eat all these myself.”

your pretty smile comes rushing back, following him inside just like you had followed him to the dance floor yesterday, looking around at the walls of tannyhill. you’d been once before, years ago for a party for sarah’s birthday that the entire class had been invited to, but you hadn’t admired it then. nor did you realize what other treasures laid inside.

“want milk?” rafe questions, opening up the fridge while you rest your hands on the marble island in the kitchen. you nod your head, still looking around and taking in the new environment. rafe comes back to you with the jug of milk and two glasses, pouring you a cup first.

“how was the rest of your night?” you ask tentatively, breaking an oatmeal raisin cookie in half and offering rafe the other piece. he accepts it with a grin. you’re nervous—scared of the answer, wondering if another girl took your place after you left.

“boring. i left after you did.” he bites into the cookie, and then takes a sip of milk. if he thought you were beaming earlier, you’re radiant now—looking up at him like he’s hung the moon for you. your laugh—and even that’s pretty—fills the room.

“that’s not how you’re supposed to do it, rafe,” you giggle, dipping your own cookie into the milk first to demonstrate. “see?”

it’s quick. rafe takes your wrist into his hand, guiding it up to your mouth, making you take a bite. he doesn’t let go while he speaks, either.

“now it’s soggy. see?” you nod, watching where he’s touching you with big eyes. if you’re this reactive to a little skin contact, he’s dying to see what you’ll be like naked in his bed. he reminds himself to be patient.

“i didn’t realize i was doing it wrong,” you comment, picking up another cookie, this time snickerdoodle, to break in half. he’s half surprised at your compliance, half wondering what else he could convince you of with a little manhandling and kissing.

“don’t worry, kid. i’ll teach you right and wrong.”

#part 2 to down on me!#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #yes rafe eats cookies like that. monster!

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luveline · 1 year

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extremely random thought for shy friday: r works up the courage and bakes steve some kind of baked good. little do they know it’s with the one ingredient steve absolutely HATES (idk man like grapes or something) and he feels bad so he doesn’t tell them and eats it until dustin or someone walks in and is like 🤨🤨🤨 ur eating that???

thank you for your request! steve x shy!reader

Steve knows that while you may not seem nervous on the surface, you're a shy girl. You're always overthinking things, always watching people out of the corner of your eye so you can respond to their behaviour. You minimise yourself.

It's why he can't tell you he doesn't like raisins. You've made him something, expressed your creativity, your passion, and your feelings (he thinks) through baked goods. Steve's sure your German apple strudel would be delicious if he could stand raisins. He does a great approximation of a smile as he eats one.

"You like it?" you ask hopefully.

"Who doesn't?" he asks, clumsily avoiding the question. "Everybody likes strudel. Thanks, Germany."

Your smile cleaves him open. It's a mixture of incredible sweetness in line with your proferred treats, a hint of bashfulness he adores, and your usual go-to grin. It's familiar and new at once, and Steve wants to take a photo.

"I promised some to your friend," you say, closing the lid of the tuppperware you'd brought with you, "but what he doesn't take you can have. I kind of made them for you, anyways."

Steve melts. He's cool and sophisticated, obviously, but his stomach goes molten at the idea that someone would care about him enough to make him food from scratch without his having to ask, and that someone being you makes it all the more warming. He feels like jelly.

He's slow on the upkeep, and doesn't know who you mean until Dustin and co. are peddling up to the bench you're sitting at full pelt. Steve curses under his breath as they come to a slow, and Dustin's eyes hone in on your box.

"You have the goods?" he asks, like this is some box office drug deal, and not like he's interrupting your almost-date.

You shake your box gently. Lucas and Will share an enthusiastic, "Nice!"

Mike, less prone to distractions that aren't his girlfriend, nods at Steve's hand. He's frowning. "What are you doing?"

Four sets of eyes move between Mike's stare and Steve's hand like spectators at a tennis match. Steve can't tell him to cut it out while you're looking, so he polishes off the apple strudel, feels sick at the wrinkly, gelatinous texture of the raisins as they go down, and glares at the kids full force. "What, you're so greedy you need them all?"

"You don't like raisins," Mike says.

Dustin blinks at him. "You actually ate one of those?" He shifts on his bike, foot on the ground so he doesn't fall. "You said raisins are the evil cousin of a chocolate chip."

Steve doesn't know what's worse, the embarrassment of being caught red-handed or your tiny pout.

"Sorry," he says to you quickly, uncool, so uncool, "I mean. No, I don't like raisins. But they were still good!"

You're expressionless despite his insistence. "It's okay," you say, and there, a twitch to your brow he actually understands for once. You're amused.

You dole sweet treats out to the boys and they bike off calling thank yous and giggling like idiots at the mess they've made, no doubt. You smile down into your almost empty box, one remaining strudel with nowhere to go.

"Steve," you murmur, sounding pleased, "why didn't you say something?"

He hooks his elbow over the back of the bench. "And tell you to your face I don't like what you made for me? I know I fell off the wagon, but I'm not hopeless. You don't do that to girls."

"Well. Next time, you should. Is there anything else you don't, uh, don't like?" Steve can't hide his surprise. You drop your gaze to your lap. "You know, so I can make you something else?"

"You want to?"

You rub your thumb against the opposite index finger. You can't meet his eyes, but Steve knows you're alright.

"Yeah, I'd love to make you something you'll actually enjoy. Was kinda the whole point."

Steve places his hands between yours where they worry in your lap, dipping his head to the side hoping it'll encourage you to look up. You do, and he can practically see the heat emanating from your face, even if there's no evidence of blush.

"Anything you make I'll like."

"So long as it doesn't have raisins," you say.

He squeezes your hand gently. "Exactly. And maybe not too much cinnamon. It makes me think about my great grandma's house. Which wouldn't matter, but she totally died choking on a snickerdoodle."

You laugh, and you clamp your free hand over your mouth.

"That's terrible," you say between your fingers.

He elbows you gently. "You laughed. Makes you the terrible one." He thinks about your offer, and how sweet you are, and how horribly he fucked it up by pretending to like something he didn't. "Thank you. For the thought."

You take your hand from your cheek and place it over his. It's practically aflame it's so hot, and your lips are worse when you dot forward to kiss him. You were likely aiming for his cheek, but he turned a little and it ended up a centimetre from his closed mouth.

You sit back sharply.

"You're welcome," you say, eyes widened.

"Thanks," he says again. He clears his throat.

He pretends not to notice how flustered you are from your almost kiss. Maybe he should poke a little fun at you, call you forward or eager or in a rush, but he doesn't.

He'd be a hypocrite to make fun of you, because Steve's flustered too. Your lips are the sweetest treat you could give.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrignton drabble #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington scenario #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things #shy friday

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be-the-glenn-to-my-maggie · 4 months

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We need to talk about the most important thing yet, what their favorite Junk food? And I mean the family...

For this ask, we gotta head back into the modern Jake Sully wheelchair au.

Jake and Neytiri are health freaks.

I've said before, they like to do all sorts of things. Before they had children they were spontaneous backpackers and thrill seekers, attempting to do the most all the time. It was like all about proving to everyone (and also Jake) that he could still do anything anyone else could, but also about Neytiri getting out and seeing the world instead of being stuck at home.

That being said, Jake can really fuck up a bag of cape cod potato chips. Not as unhealthy as other junk food, and so classic American.

Neytiri is one of those bastards that gets raisins as a treat for the movies. Nature's candy and all that. She has a weakness for chocolate though, specifically those lindor ones with the soft insides. She'll only ever have like one or two, and one time Jake bought her chocolate covered raisins and almonds and it was over. If those are in the house she will sniff them out like a bloodhound.

Neteyam likes takis, because he is cultured and has taste.

Kiri is also a chocolate covered almonds person, but she also really likes hot cheetos.

Lo'ak threw up in the car once after eating a fuck ton of hot cheetos, and now he can't even look at them without getting nauseous. It's half the reason Kiri likes hot cheetos. In retaliation, he likes those absolutely disgusting beef jerky sticks, because Kiri is a vegetarian and the smell makes her loose her hot cheeto appetite.

Spider is regular and doesn't base his favorites around the hatred of his siblings. He just also likes takis, but has to compete with Neteyam subtly by only eating the blue heat ones. Neteyam is weak for liking the regular ones better.

Tuk likes almost all junk food, but she is particularly fond of marshmallows burnt to an almost inedible crisp. Lo'ak makes them best.

Mo'at and Sylwanin think Neytiri is not fully appreciating the fun that is junk food. This is a battle Sylwanin fights daily, as Tsu'tey is also a raisin man. He and Neytiri could hold seminars on the destructive junk food industry. That being said, he prefers a dried mango strip to raisins any day. Dried apricots? He goes crazy. His guilty pleasure is definitely the occasional sugary cocktail though. Jake, Tsu'tey, and Eytukan could DEMOLISH some boxed wine, they could get absolutely smashed on only Sex on the Beaches. Margaritas, Dirty Shirleys, Sangria, any super colorful ladies drink: that is their shit. If it has little squares of fruit and a tiny umbrella in it, the night is going sideways.

Mo'at is partial to those little chocolate nut clusters, you know the ones. Those really delicious ones. She also is one of those grandmas with bowls full of candy all over the house, and is constantly popping tictacs.

Sylwanin (who prefers a strong whiskey, or maybe a shot of fireball, to a sugary cocktail) enjoys sour patch kids. She is more of a sour person than a sweet one. Jake has said this before, and she tipped him from his chair into the pool. Neytiri didn't speak to her for the rest of the day because he could've not been ready and been hurt, but Jake laughed so hard pool water came out his nose.

Eytukan likes those little chocolate peppermint candies, the Andes ones. He has the best taste of all, I'm telling you.

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soleilnomoon · 1 year

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Hiiii! :D <3 I owe you another event request that I announced.. sitting at work, yet another late evening, and dreaming of some Ace goodness. So may I ask for an ice cream sundae, donut hole, oatmeal raisin cookie, affogato and toffee? With female reader? :D If possible with the one serving the ice cream sundae being the reader? I need lotssss of caramel and whipped cream to get me through the week! Thank you so much!!!! <3

i can’t believe it took me so long, i’m so so sorry, but!!! it’s finally here *sobs continuously* so sorry bb that i took forever, but i only like to give you guys quality writing (esp with ace, i love him) so forgive me pls thank u & ily 😭💛🥺️

3.3k words, fem reader, nsfw, 18+ mdni; only a tiny bit of angst (yay), fluff!!!! and smut!!! ace needs to do better, and reader isn't as slick as she thinks she is (but lbr, when is reader ever slick). friends 2 lovers (surprise, surprise i know who am i), feat. v cute things like oral (m receiving), oral (f receiving), a lil roughplay but nothing crazy, a lil dry humping, idk other stuff probably idr anymore ૮₍˶ •. • ⑅₎ა but i had fun writing even tho the fluff almost killed me but for u i persevered! (if u see spelling/grammar errors no u didn’t <;3)

“look how we bleed from all this wanting” — ama asantewa diaka

unease is something you’re well-acquainted with — a painful, yet comforting, reminder of things that may or may not come. its slender vines wrap meticulously around each bone in your rib cage, lying in wait as your heart beats faster. it’s a pathetic, melancholic melody; a lullaby you can never escape. anxiety pours into you slowly — poisonous and haunting, tainting the lush, untamed garden that’s grown deep inside of you; one you’ve painstakingly tended to for most of your life, where your childhood dreams remain dormant, where your fears slither around in the thick vegetation ready to strike when given the chance. everything becomes fuzzy and unbearable, but you somehow manage to inhale several large gulps of air before continuing.

it’s not easy keeping secrets, but you do it anyway. for him — only for him. today’s no different, as this is one secret you’re more than happy to keep to yourself.

contrary to popular belief, ace is much more particular about certain things than he lets on. for whatever reason, he’s adamant on keeping his birthday hidden from his crew mates — something you don’t quite understand, but respect, nonetheless. he says it’s because he doesn’t want the fuss and awkward fanfare of celebrating, but you know there’s another reason — one possibly drenched in tragedy and grief, so you refrain from asking again.

instead, you decide to celebrate with him in private; you’re best friends, after all. and after a few months of prodding, he finally concedes, giving you free reign to do as you please. a man like ace isn’t simple to shop for; you stress over his birthday gift for weeks, desperately wanting to find something unique — something that no one else would think to give him. it keeps you up for several nights in a row, where torn pieces of paper with scratched out ideas litter the floor in your room. at a certain point you scream into your pillow, desperate to get all your frustrations out before going back to sift through your failed gift ideas.

you pass out in the middle of ranting to yourself about your own incompetence, and the idea comes to you in a dream. when you wake up the next morning, you’re a little nervous but you’re sure this might be the one gift he wasn’t expecting — the one gift that he’ll appreciate and possibly cherish.

the thought of that only serves to rattle the tiny box of nerves that sits in the middle of your stomach — the lid barely attached; the contents ready to spill at the next inconvenience that comes your way.

ace intentionally kept vague about what he wanted as a gift; he hates the idea of people scrambling around trying to surprise him, and instead keeps his expectations low. life, it seems, has helped him learn that lesson time and time again; it’s better, in his opinion, to snuff out any residual hope — the one that lingers behind all the disappointment that tends to follow him around — before it’s too late.

still, he’s curious to see what you’ve been working so tirelessly on. you’ve kept quiet about everything, and no matter how many times he tries to pry the answers out of you, you remain steadfast and keep the secret to yourself.

he's impressed, to say the least, and a flicker of excitement courses through him as he spends the morning of his birthday obnoxiously guessing what your surprise gift is. you wave him off, tell him to stop pestering you, but he doesn’t let up. there were times when you almost told him, but he has to hand it to you — you’re incredibly determined and stubborn.

you convince him to come off of the ship with you and explore the main town of the island your crew is visiting. he knows you’re not that interested in exploring, that you’re doing all of this to distract him; he smiles to himself in secret, away from your curious and trusting eyes, unable to come to terms with the warmth that’s taken hold of his chest, pitifully churning his insides around. if he had more sense, he’d realize it’s his nerves that have gotten the best of him; but that’s ridiculous, what would he have to be nervous about?

especially on his birthday?

while he thinks he’s being stealthy by trying to hide his emotions, you catch him several times; you don’t say much about it, instead wanting ace to fully enjoy himself unrestricted. you admire the shape of his jaw when he excitedly looks around, nearly trip when you notice how sunlight drapes itself along his freckled, light brown skin, and choke on your drink when he glances over at you. the corners of his lips quirk upward, and a small, devastating, dimpled smile crawls onto his face.

you’re rarely rendered speechless, but your inability to function properly causes you to let go of the cup in your hand — not that it matters, really. you don’t even care that the drink splashes near your sandaled feet, nor do you notice the way ace’s brows furrow together at your sudden clumsiness. a frown works its way onto his lips while you stand there stupidly, trying to remember what it is you’re supposed to be doing.

he tilts his head and briefly wonders if maybe the heat has gotten to you — you’re usually much more with it, but today you’re quieter and spaced out. when he opens his mouth to ask if you’re okay, you simply step over the fallen drink and keep walking down the street. something about your insistence on ignoring your recent faux pas makes him laugh out loud; he doesn’t mean to, but it’s just so damn funny to him.

and while you could be mad at him for the way he can’t seem to stop laughing at you, you know that the small bout of annoyance will fizzle out shortly. you can never actually stay mad at him, even if you tried — and yes, you have tried and failed several times over.

ace eventually catches up to you and that familiar teasing grin stretches lazily along his lips as he playfully grabs your arm and pulls you towards him. you steel your features as best as you can and narrow your eyes at him; the residual embarrassment from earlier lingers obnoxiously, making you stumble over your words.

or, that’s what you tell yourself, anyway.

because if he knew that it was because it’s become increasingly difficult to be around him for extended periods of time, then you’d never hear the end of it.

the problem is: ace already knows, and has known for quite some time. he never brought it up, because then you’d find a reason to keep yourself busy and stay away from him intentionally. he’s selfish and will continue to monopolize your time however way he can, especially today. you’ve never had an issue with ace touching you before, but for some reason his skin is warmer than normal — or maybe it’s because you’re still too nervous about the gift. you know that he’ll like and appreciate anything you give him, which is why you let out a soft sigh and rummage through your purse to shove a small piece of paper into his hand.

“i wanted to wait until we got back to the ship,” you say quietly, tongue suddenly much too big for your mouth; you try pulling away from him, but ace’s grip is firm, and you’re not trying that hard anyway. “but, um… happy birthday!”

he watches you curiously before glancing down at the paper in his hand; in a cute, neat script, you’ve written: birthday coupon (1 use only). and before he can ask anything unnecessary, you explain quickly, words tumbling out of your mouth in a rush.

“basically, you have my services for exactly twenty-four hours only.”

and, as ace is constantly in a state of perpetual confusion, he glances back at you to see if this is a joke or not.

“really?”

he wants to believe you, but he also knows that you’d never actually let him have his way for a day — or, would you? now he isn’t so sure.

your usual bravado leaves you faster than you can handle, so you nod a few times and finally manage to free yourself from his hold. after giving yourself a bit of space, you realize that you can think clearly now that he isn’t so close to you.

“yes,” you say lightly, hoping that he’ll buy your false confidence as legitimate. “whatever you want me to do, i’ll do. no questions asked.” you know you’re treading dangerously, but this was the best idea you could come up with. unease finds you again when ace remains quiet — a feat for him, as he’s usually boisterous and vocal about everything — but all of that doubt dissipates when a small, sly smile appears on his face as he pockets the coupon and beckons you closer.

“thanks, let’s go.”

you don’t bother asking where, because ace has already grabbed your hand and tugs you along with him. you want to tell him that he doesn’t have to hold onto your hand like that, but you decide that you deserve a bit of selfishness too. the day passes fairly quickly — you end up eating at several places with him, purchase enough sweets to put you into a sugar-induced coma, and laugh so hard you end up in tears.

he likes seeing this side of you, the part that’s carefree and full of energy; he admires how smooth and soft your skin is and thinks it’s impossibly cute that you can’t stop sneaking glances at him. you’re not as inconspicuous as you think you are, but ace doesn’t tease you about it. already he’s had you do silly things like balance on one leg like a flamingo in the middle of the shopping plaza and cartwheel as long as you can down to the pier — the latter was him testing the waters to see if you’d really do it, but you rise to the challenge and only fall over twice.

embarrassment be damned, as long as ace is happy today that’s all that matters.

when you make it back to the ship, the sun has set, bathing the ocean and sky with a pretty mixture of bright colors. you take a moment to lean against the railing to watch the sky, mesmerized by the artistry, while ace watches you and contemplates how best to proceed with you. he’s normally much better at hiding his desire and attraction, but today he’s at his limit. he doesn’t bother looking away when you feel his gaze on you; it’s always intense, having ace’s undivided attention — and while a small voice tells you that it’s dangerous to let this tension build to a frenzied state, a much bigger voice tells you to just let go and embrace whatever happens.

it's ace who grabs your arm and tugs you with him to his cabin, locking the door behind so that no one would interrupt; and it’s ace who plucks the coupon out of his pocket again, playfully waving it around as your brain scrambles as you try to guess what he’ll request next. it should alarm you that your excitement starts to build all over again when ace plops down lazily in a nearby chair, legs spread; something compels you to move closer and before you can say anything remotely foolish, ace pulls you onto his lap.

you tell yourself that it’s purely for the sake of ensuring he has a memorable birthday, but the truth won’t let you off that easily — not when you shamelessly straddle him as your skirt rides up your thighs; not when you thread your fingers through his hair and tugging on it impatiently; and not when you softly press your lips against his and mumble something along the lines of, “hurry up and ask.”

it’s refreshing seeing you take initiative like that, so ace tosses the coupon onto the floor unceremoniously before gripping your hips firmly. that warmth from earlier comes back in full force, and suddenly you’re wondering why the both of you are still dressed. he doesn’t hesitate when he runs his tongue along your lips, and you, in response, roll your hips forward and grind down hard against his stiff cock. a dangerous game, you know — you know — but you can’t help yourself; not today, anyway.

it's you who kisses him first — clumsy and rash, but after a moment, your lips move against his with more certainty; he guides you with his tongue, heat shooting up your spine, making you pliant and eager. each time he kisses you, you have to remind yourself that it’s not another dream, that it’s actually happening. and even if, after all of this, you both go back to pretending you’re just friends, you’re sure you’ll be fine.

maybe.

you don’t dwell on that thought though, and focus on the way ace keeps rubbing his hands along your thighs — slow and tortuous, the callouses on his hands rough, but welcomed on your skin. you’re panting and whining softly, the heat radiating off his body stifling, but also addicting. he’s not sure how much longer he can hold back, and you somehow get the hint when he bucks his hips against yours, your panties already damp with arousal every time your pussy rubs against his cock.

there’s a slightly dazed look in his eyes when you managed to climb off of him without your legs giving out, and it’s his own selfishness that drives him to watch you as you take off your clothes without prompting. is it adrenaline, lust, or the intoxicating effects of ace’s presence that has you in between his legs and on your knees. when he realizes what you’re about to do, he opens his mouth to tell you that it’s not necessary, but his argument dies in his mouth and fizzles out completely when you unzip his shorts and pull out his cock.

ace inhales sharply as a warm breeze slips in from the open window and tangles itself around both of you; and, although the moon hides sleepily behind a few clouds, some of its light filters through, giving you an ethereal glow as you run your tongue along the length of his cock before wrapping your lips around the tip. it’s not often that ace finds himself powerless in front of someone, but you’ve rendered him weak beyond comprehension. you suck and swirl your tongue around, dragging it along his slit and licking off the precum that leaked out.

it invigorates you — watching him through your lashes as your hands wrap around the rest of his length, twisting and pumping mercilessly, every stifled moan giving you the encouragement to keep going. you inadvertently rub your thighs together, pussy slick with your wetness, but, surprisingly, you don’t feel ashamed about it — not when you take more of ace’s cock into your mouth, relaxing your jaw and letting him have free reign for a bit. ace juts his hips forward, feeling only a tiny bit remorseful when he sees you gag, but the determined look in your eyes tells him that you refuse to back down.

when you feel like you can’t breathe, you lick down his length and massage his balls, earning a string of unintended, slightly incoherent curse words from ace under his breath. it’s a sensitive area — and, try as he might, he can’t help but moan your name out loud, his breathing growing unsteady, making you all the more delirious and obsessed. your teeth accidentally grazes his skin and he tugs on your hair more forcefully than he means to, startling you but not for the reasons it should.

his voice is low and gruff when he speaks again. “y/n… behave.” which is all he really needs to say, because while it was an accident, something forbidden swirls around your lower abdomen, making you bold and somewhat reckless. before he can say anything else, you suck on his balls, melting his resolve and small bout of annoyance.

he wants to ask if you’re trying to kill him, but he partially knows the answer to that already. goosebumps prick his skin as you look at him equal parts mischievous and full of adoration. he’s not sure why, but he likes that he’s only ever seen you look at him like that.it makes all of this that much more intense, and he knows that after tonight he can’t go back to being just friends with you.

it’d be impossible.

you take his cock back into your mouth again, bobbing up and down, his girth still a challenge, but you take it in stride anyway. and its when you suck on his sensitive tip again that ace’s restraint finally gives out; you feel him jerk underneath you, and his cum is thick and hot as it spills into your mouth. he half expects you to spit it out, and even through that post-orgasm haze, he’s amazed when you swallow it all.

with his face flushed — from the force of the orgasm, from how he can’t seem to keep his eyes off of you, especially after you lick some of his cum off of your lips — ace runs a hand through his hair before standing up and pulling you to your feet. he kisses you again, sloppy, yet domineering; your hands work on tugging the rest of his clothes off quickly, and it doesn’t take long before he has you on your back thighs clamped around his head as he devours your pussy.

nothing can compare to the high you feel right now, hips rolling forward, shamelessly tugging on his hair roughly, moaning his name louder than you mean to. anyone passing by can hear you, the walls are thin enough, but you don’t care now. his tongue glides along your slit, your arousal spilling onto his tongue before he flicks it against your clit.

something about the way he’s handling you — as if you’re able to take whatever aggression he tosses your way, especially when he slides his fingers inside of your pussy, finger-fucking and enjoying how you’re falling apart underneath him — makes you that much more reactive to him. and when he sucks on your clit — merciless, just like you were being with him a short while ago — you don’t hold back.

your cries are music to his ears, and he knows he should tell you to keep it down, but he also likes how loud you’re being. almost as if he wants other people to hear that he’s the one making you writhe around on his bed like that. the orgasm is sudden, brutal, and life changing; a blinding light practically incapacitating you, momentarily robbing you of your vision. your chest heaves as you try to gather your thoughts; a lightheaded feeling takes over, making you shiver, your sweet whining only makes him want to keep torturing you with his tongue.

but he refrains, for now.

after pulling back, you both look at each other for a moment before you pull him down for another kiss — this one tender, sweet, and slow. ace lets himself fall further under your spell, not wanting to ask if you complied with his selfish whims because you wanted to or because of his birthday coupon. and if he did ask, you know, deep down, that you’d tell him it’s very obviously the former — that it wasn’t only his selfish whim, that you were equally to blame for letting things escalate like this. not that it matters much right now, since all you can think about, is how you don’t plan on leaving his bed for the rest of the night. and how you know you’ll be plenty sore once he’s done with you later on.

#*sobs into hands*#i have so many more to do but don't worry i'm working on them <3 #fic request #500+ followers event #milestone event #🍭✨🍨sticky & sweet event🧁✨🍭#one piece fluff #one piece smut #one piece x reader #one piece x y/n #portgas d. ace #portgas d. ace x reader #portgas d. ace smut #ace x reader #ace x y/n #ace smut #ace fluff #one piece imagine #one down... 1493984 left

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kristinhateslife · 24 days

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Hurry!! give me small Easter doodle ideas!!

these will be tiny cause my creative brain has been shrunken down to a raisin

p.s. put them in my ask box

#utmv

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paldean-sandwich-rater · 3 months

Note

A sandwich.

It contains ice cream, whipped cream, sponge cake, meat balls, broccoli, pineapple, strawberries, tomatoes, lettuce, rice, noodles, mac and cheese, bacon, beef jerky, dried fish, seaweed, one of every Pokemon berry, jam, olive oil, lotus, dragon fruit, ravioli, ramen, tempura, teriyaki chicken, macaroons, escargots, mint, pepper, salt, sugar, croquettes, pickles, apples, avocados, sausages, bell peppers, grapes, pizza, a donut, cheese, more cheese, even more cheese, mushrooms, mustard, olives, a fried egg, a scrambled egg, blueberries, a poached egg, chawanmushi, a red bean bun, mochi, bbq sauce, chicken nuggets, french fries, takoyaki, pancakes, mackerel, salmon, coffee beans, spinach, a tiny bit of corn cream soup, ramensanga, fettucine alfredo, a plain bagel, pretzels, chocolate chip cookies, sweet potato, yam, potato, scallions, scallops, squid, crab stick, fish balls, fish cakes, oyster sauce, silken tofu, barley, cereal, paprika, oysters, red snapper, sea bass, plums, bean sprouts, garlic, string cheese, camembert, swiss cheese, mozzarella, parmesan cheese, yogurt, brinjal, a macdonald’s happy meal (without the toy and the packaging of course), truffles, caviar, tapioca balls, fried chicken, century eggs, cake sprinkles, dark chocolate, milk chocolate, white chocolate, milk tea (just a tinge), coffee (also a tinge), pudding, pumpkin, honey, mutton, mashed potatoes, bananas, icelandic fermented shark that they bury in the ground for months, raisins, dried mangoes, a drop of water, jelly, nata de coco, prunes, roasted pork, rosemary, bee pollen, peas, deer meat, rabbit meat, fish maw, ham, turkey, m&ms, chub, fufu, watermelon, winter melon, rock melon, coffee jelly, cacao, carrots, blueberries, black tea, dumplings, carrot cake, beetroot, purple cabbage, corn, celery, edamame, red beans, black beans, green beans, kidney beans, cashews, peanuts, pecans, sunflower seeds, walnuts, chickpeas, almonds, daikon, MSG, tamales, anchovies, tabbouleh, lions mane mushroom, chicken of the woods, kelp, octopus, durian, kimchi, crème fraîche, popcorn, cotton candy, everything bagel seasoning, capers, pears, marinara sauce, bittercress, butter cream, every single iteration of galarian curry, sushi, sashimi, kale and a very very specific ramen bowl (without the actual bowl) from a very particular shop located in Iwatodai.

And the top and bottom buns are somehow made from 50 different kinds of bread in a checker box pattern.

It comes with a picture.

Ingredients: I am not typing all of that out again. What the fuck.

Smell: You’ve taken an entire food court’s worth of food and made it into a sandwich. This isn’t even possible. Why am I considering this. 3/5

Taste: How do you eat this. 2/5

Texture: You get like 5 different foods every bite. This is not balanced. There is no harmony. This sandwich is the embodiment of disorder and chaos. 1/5

Presentation: The fact that this even looks sandwich adjacent is a fucking miracle. You don’t get full points though. Because I don’t like you. 3/5

Would Chunk Eat It?: He would eat maybe 1/50th of it. So no. 1/5

Final Score: 2/5

Critic’s Notes: Why would you waste this much food. Just host a party. Donate it. Something fucking anything I am begging at this point.

#asks #sandwich rating #anon sandwich sub(mission)

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darklydeliciousdesires · 1 year

Note

Last one but if drabble requests are still open what about #11 with either angel or Jax?

Here we go!

"Daddy, we're going to miss the bus!"

"It ain't here for ten minutes!"

"Yeah, but you're lagging behind with the sandwiches! And I don't like tomatoes!"

"Daddy, put my tomatoes in a separate box so the bread doesn't go soggy! And can we have cookies?"

"You put those back! Mommy said oranges only with lunch, or apples, but you ate all of those, you tiny little human trash cans!"

"You're a trash can!"

Oh, lord. There was absolutely no doubt that Rosita and Elena Reyes were his. Back talking, giving their orders, causing pandemonium in the kitchen as they supervised his rapid construction of their lunches. Removing the cookie box from Elena's hand, he placed it high on a shelf, pulling a face at her pout, his five-year-old giggling."No crusts please, daddy."

"I know, see? Crustless." He held up the tiny sandwich, Elena nodding with approval, each box then packed with all the little extras that went in, individual raisin boxes, an orange each and some cheese sticks, Angel stuffing each in their bags and handing them over.

"Daddy, can you take us on your motorcycle to school one day?" Rosita requested, Angel taking a hand each and leading them out of the house, ready for the bus to come and fetch them.

"No, tiny. You're still too little."

"We can put our skates on and tie a rope onto the bike, then skate along behind!" Yep. Definitely his. He breathed a sigh of relief at seeing the yellow bus chugging down the street, crouching to hug and kiss them both, taking two cookies he'd sneaked from the box and handing them over to his girls just as the bus pulled up. "Don't tell mommy. You be good, and I'll see you tonight. Love you."

"Love you, daddy!" they chorused, greeting the bus driver as they crunched through their cookies, Angel waving them off before heading back to the house. Closing the door, he saw you appear from the kitchen, yawning as the excess of your night shift lingered.

“Those kids? They get their noise right from you, you know.” you told him, sipping your coffee.

He smiled, nodding. "Yeah, I know."

And he wouldn't change them for anything.

#angel reyes #angel reyes fanfiction #angel reyes imagine #angel reyes x you #angel reyes x female reader #angel reyes fanfic #angel reyes fic #mayans mc #mayans mc fanfiction #mayans mc fanfic #mayans mc imagine #mayans mc fic #ddd drabble requests

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turtle-babe83 · 1 year

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{F!Reader, on the Naughty List}

Warning: NFSW content 18+ only

Just imagine…..

“Oh my god! Y/n, how did you find it? They were sold out everywhere, trust me, I checked,” your genius lover exclaims.

You grin as he gushes over his Christmas gift. You knew it would win Christmas when you secured it a few weeks ago. His eyes had lit up as soon as he opened the box. Right now though, his attention has shifted to you and he stares you down. You squirm in your seat on the couch.

Donnie’s voice goes incredibly low and deep as he murmurs, “How can I properly show my thanks to you, hmm?”

With his ninja speed, you suddenly find yourself on your back on the couch and your leggings are almost off your legs already. You squeak in surprise as Donnie settles on the floor, wedged between your thighs, his arms wrapping around as he holds you spread open wide.

“I think perhaps I’ll start here,” he murmurs, sliding his tongue up your inner thigh.

His talented mouth engulfs your mound as his tongue creates body shuddering magic. Your labia tingles as he sucks and your clit swells and pulses with need. He finally relents and sucks just the tiny nub, alternating with fast flicks. When your orgasm finally crests, he tongue fucks you through it, using his thumb on your clit to keep the momentum going. He savors the way your walls squeeze the wiggling muscle as he thrusts it deeper. As you breathlessly come down, he takes one last lick of your cunt and sits back.

“Well, you are certainly welcome, mister,” you manage to say.

Donatello picks you up in one arm and heads towards your room, the other hand unfastening his pants.

“Oh, I’m not done thanking you yet, sweetness,” he growls as he steps out of his pants. 💜

@exovapor @dilucsflame33 @nittleboo @raisin-shell @thelaundrybitch @leosgirl82 @chicchanmooshy @mysticboombox @roxosupreme @zowise2912 @xanadu702 @ravn-87 @ashleighclark98 @fyreball66 @tmntspidergirl @lady-maria-the-wolf225 @labeccy @lunar-corgimon @misteria247 @ladyofparchments @raphielover @tortuefaerie @bunnyraptor69 @polypandragon @sharpwindow @tkappi @aurora-the-kunoichi @imthegreenfairy88 @pheradream15 @rheawritesforfun @cowabunga-doll @coulrofilia-sexuell @lilyssims @daedric-sorceress @creepylittlemarvelgirl @raphslovemuffin80 @sketch-and-write-lover @drowninghell @digitl-art-monstr @fluffytriceratops @angelcatlowyn @turtlesmakemehappy @narwals14 @waterstar2016 @bibiz82 @memes-in-a-half-shell @fictionalmenmistress @sewerninno @scholastic-dragon @selfless1978

#tmnt #tmnt bayverse #teenage mutant ninja turtles #turtlebabe83 #tmnt fandom #bayverse donnie #bayverse donatello #tmnt donnie #tmnt donatello #Donatello #Donnie #tmnt stocking stuffers #tmnt aged up #tmnt imagine

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chaos-cousins · 3 months

Note

Pelipper mail!

A sandwich.

And the top and bottom buns are somehow made from 50 different kinds of bread in a checker box pattern.

What the actual fuck.

It has whipped cream on it. Disgusting.

THAT'S WHY ITS DISGUSTING????

No it's just the first thing I saw that grossed me out and you know I hate whipped cream

#pokeblogging #rotomblr

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rxvera · 11 months

Note

Hey i love love love your posts about steve and bucky's cats and children and i've been trying to find like their origin posts, but i can't. Could you link it or explain how they got each of the cats and stuff?? I really want to know more about frankie and raisin<33

hey!! Unfortunently, there are no origin posts, my friend @gay-jewish-bucky and I came up with them in private, but I can totally give you a quick run down, and GJB could probably add on some valuable stuff too if they'd like (or correct me since it has been a little while since we've gone over it lol)

For the cats:

Alpine - They got her when she was a kitten and Bucky found her abandoned in a box in an alley.

Frankie - They got him from a neighbor when Bucky wanted another cat and Steve just fell in love with him.

Raisin - She actually has no origin story so far, but her whole thing is that she's Mari's (their 2nd daughter) best friend and she's a great support

AND BONUS: Eatie - The cat Bucky rescued when they were teenagers, she's a tiny grey fluffball :)

For the kids:

Sarah - Their eldest daughter

Mari (Shot for Mariposa) - Their 2nd, she has mitochondrial disease (which we've decided was the root cause of all Steve's medical conditions as a child and how she inherited it)

Samuel - The 3rd, and he's adopted (the rest were concieved through ivf with a surrogate), they got him because he was the nephew of some friends from their temple and long story short, he ended up with no more family to take him in and they ended up as the extended next of kin

Winnie (Short for Winifred) - Twins with Lia, nonbinary, they have ADHD if I'm remembering correctly

Lia (Short for Nataliyah) - Winnie's twin, she has ADD too I think (? I'm not sure what we decided), she has IBD and ends up with an ileostomy as a teen and later on visceral myopathy

I'm sorry this was such a quick run down with just like major plot points and stuff sticking out. We've discussed this stuff in so much detail, sometimes it's so hard to get out to other people, but let me know what else you'd like to know!!

#marvel #steve rogers #bucky barnes #stucky #stevebucky #post canon #mcu #cole help me out here I don't know how to do summaries hfkljaldksa

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lady-maria-the-wolf225 · 1 year

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How did Mikey become a cat person?

This always got me thinking: "How did Mikey become a cat loving kind of guy, while his brothers are more into dogs or exotic pets in general?" of course we all knew Mikey on other incarnations love cats! but what about the Bayverse Mikey? the fun-loving funny guy we all know and love? well for starters, I believe he would always sneak out of the lair and hang out at ally ways or the empty streets to hang out with stray cats that either ran away from home or were just naturally born in the streets. Mikey would feel that cats are less loved than a dog that is "Man's best friend." so why not give cats the same love that a dog person would? the next reason would be is that Cats adopt their person of choice than people adopting them. it's like a cat chooses a person as their new family, and instantly get accepted no matter who you are as a person or mutant per say. the funny thing is, Mikey would believe cats can make a guy or gal look more attractive impressing the ladies. the only downside is, no matter how many times Mikey would beg his brothers in getting a pet in the lair whether if it's finding a box of kittens in the streets, or finding a runaway cat, he would not get the chance in what it's like to actually own one! and plus, hearing a kitten's tiny meow always melts the terrapin's party boy's heart every time!

@raisin-shell @kawaiibunga @raphsweapondealer @turtlesmakemehappy @thelaundrybitch @selfless1978 @turtle-babe83 @post-apocalyptic-daydream @nikitaboeve @nittleboo @angelcatlowyn @lazytyphooncollector @shikobahkin @thatonerandomsimpinthecorner @mysticboombox @roxosupreme @foreignbrunette

#tmnt bayverse #michelangelo #kittens

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ziodyne-amax · 3 months

Note

Pelipper mail! (To kotone)

A sandwich.

And the top and bottom buns are somehow made from 50 different kinds of bread in a checker box pattern.

I’m. I’m not even sure how you managed to fit all this. This is beautiful in its monstrosity…

#pokeblogging #rotomblr #burning dread: kotone

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helperduck · 1 year

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Magic Item Masterlist

Writing a demigod character for a PJO RP? Do they have a signature weapon that turns into something else? Stuck on what it should be? Below is a list of 100+ small items that would be perfect to disguise a weapon as. Some of these are meant to be funny and are great to have your character fret over (They got a cool sword that turns into a ring and I got stuck with a knife that turns into a SPAGHETTI NOODLE. How am I supposed to keep that in my pocket?) Apple Ball (Golf, Football, Ping-Pong, etc) Bandana Barbie Barrette Baseball Mitt Beanbag Bell Belt Bib Binder Clip Board Game Piece Bookmark Bottlecap Bow (Hairbow or bowtie) Box of Matches Box of Raisins Burrito Button Candle CD (and/or Case) Chapstick Chess Piece Clothespin Coin Comb Cotton Ball Counting Bears Cowboy Hat Credit Card Dice Domino Doorknob Drink Coaster Dustpan Earbuds Egg cup Eraser Fake Flower Flashlight Flip Phone (non-functional) Fridge Magnet Gift Card Glasses/Sunglasses Golf Club Gumball Hair Tie Hand Sanitizer Handkerchief Hardware (Nail, screw, hinge, etc.) Hat Headband Jacob’s Ladder Toy Jar of Peanut Butter Jewelry (Bracelet [charm bracelet], necklace, rings, earrings) Ketchup Packet Key Keychain (tie it in to their weapon/godly parent/abilities) Lanyard Leaf Library Card Macaroni Magnifying Glass Mask Mittens Musical Instrument Napkin Newspaper Notebook Oven Mitt Oyster Paperclip Pearl Pen, Pencil, Marker, Colored Pencil, etc. Pin or Brooch Pinecone Pinwheel Plastic Animals Plastic Succulent Pocket Pack of Tissues Pom-Pom Potato Puzzle Piece Q-Tip Rock or Gemstone Rubber Chicken Rubber Duck Rubik’s Cube Scarf Scissors Sewing Kit Shoe Slinky Snow Globe Soap Sock Spaghetti Noodle Spoon Squish Toy Stapler Stress Ball Stuffed Animal Tea Bag Tie Thimble Thumbtack Timer Toilet Paper Roll Toolbelt Toothbrush Towel Valentine Wallet Washcloth/Rag Watch (wrist or pocket) Water Bottle Whistle Wii Remote Wooden Shape Worm on a String

If you’re looking for something a bit more unique, trying something that isn’t usually small... like a miniature version of larger items. Try looking up “tiny things that actually work” on Amazon or Google. Examples: Baking Items (Colander, Rolling pin, etc.) Blender Game Console Lava Lamp Leaf blower Microphone Vacuum

#character help #character inspiration #lists #pjo #percy jackson #rick riordan #pjo rp #character building #wox #wox help #helperduck #masterlist #magic item masterlist #small item masterlist #rp help

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wreywrites · 6 months

Text

Tiger Shark

Part 2: The Sea

Chapter 6

There is grass all around. In front of me is the cornucopia, to my left, the boy from Eleven, to my right, the boy from Six. I can just see Mako on the far side of the cornucopia, not quite blocked by its imposing bulk. He gives me a tiny nod.

There are hills in the distance. I want to look around more, see what is behind me, but the sixty-second countdown has already started, and I cannot afford to lose focus. I shift my weight, ready myself to run, force myself to block out all the other tributes, all the distractions.

I take a deep breath. I am the Tiger Shark of District Four.

The cannon sounds.

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

I am not the first to the cornucopia, but I am the biggest. I physically throw someone out of my way to get to the small cluster of spears in the back. All around is chaos. Shouting, screaming, clanging metal. Something warm splatters my face as I pull one backpack on, already reaching for a second. Someone yanks a spear out of my hand. Luckily I look before stabbing; it is Mako. He stabs the spear into the girl from Five and grabs the backpack she was going for. I hurl a spear at Farroe, who is standing in the opening of the cornucopia, blocking our way out. The spear sinks into his chest, knocks him backwards.

Mako and I run. On our way past Farroe, I yank the spear from his body. I finally see what was behind me. A long stretch of grass, and in the distance are trees. We sprint for the trees, away from the chaos of the cornucopia.

We are nearly to the trees when something hisses past my shoulder. I don’t slow to consider the implications, but as soon as I reach a tree big enough, I duck behind it, gasping for breath. To my left, Mako has done the same thing. He has the other five spears and tosses me one. An arrow hisses between our trees.

“We know you’re in there, Four!” Tychus shouts.

“Then come get us!” I shout back.

Peeking around my tree, I see him start toward us, but he only gets a few steps when Andromeda, who is a fair distance back toward the cornucopia, screams, “Tychus!”

He whips around, and I risk leaning a little farther out to see what is happening. Back at the cornucopia, a pair of tributes are rummaging through the weapons. We are too far away to be able to tell who they are, but they are each wearing one of the large, brightly-colored backpacks like Mako and I have.

Tychus swears and sprints toward the cornucopia, but before he or Andromeda can get anywhere near it, the other pair clear out, running in the opposite direction toward the low hills on the far side of the arena.

The cannon sounds. Five booms echo around the arena before it falls silent.

“That’s not as many as I would have liked,” Mako says.

“True, but I’d rather have it be five and know about it than have seven and be dead.”

He nods, and we push farther into the trees.

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

We walk in more or less a straight line until the sun is directly overheard, its light filtering down through the trees to dapple the forest floor. We stop to take stock of our backpacks. Mako stands guard as I unpack them and sort our treasure trove. There are two small tins that contain five matches each, a tarp sleeping bag, three cannisters of water, three extra pairs of socks, a roll of gauze, a tiny fishing kit, a long coil of rope, a blanket, two boxes of water-purifying tablets and instructions for use, two bags of beef jerky, two bags of raisins, a pair of night-vision glasses, and a six-inch knife.

“Not a bad haul,” I say, taking a small sip of water. I’d hate to drink it all before we found a reliable source.

Mako nods and takes a sip from one of the other bottles. I divide the spoils, making sure each bag has some food, a water bottle, a tin of matches, and a fishhook, then dividing the rest as it fits.

Mako sits next to me, our backs against a large tree, and says, “So, where’s the water?”

“Not sure. There has to be some, somewhere, but I don’t know… I don’t know if it’s going to be deeper in the trees, or out in the plain somewhere, or…” I stop.

Mako and I look at each other and say at the same time, “The hills.”

This means going back. Back through the trees, which could be hiding all seventeen of the other remaining tributes, just waiting to kill us. Back across the grassy plain and the cornucopia, where there is sure to be more food, more weapons, more supplies, but just as sure to be at least some of the stronger tributes.

In the end, we decide to go back to the edge of the trees and follow them around the middle of the arena as far as they will take us. We each take another sip of water, then Mako puts one backpack on his back and the other on his chest and takes four of the spears. I take the third backpack and a spear in each hand, and we have taken no more than two steps back the way we came when a silvery parachute drifts down in front of us. Mako opens the little box to find a pair of cream cheese rolls.

He smiles. “Guess that means we’re going the right way,” and tucks the box and its delicious cargo into my backpack. “We’ll save those for supper.”

“Sounds good to me. You want to take the lead?”

Now that we have a plan, we progress quickly through the trees. When we reach the line between trees and grass, I notice that we are closer to the hills than we should have been.

“Must not have followed our trail exactly,” I glance at Mako with a grin.

He smiles ruefully. “Guess not. But I’m not complaining, we’re closer than we thought we’d be.”

We each have another sip of water, then trade loads so I carry two backpacks and four spears, and Mako takes the rest. It works well. Even the larger burden is quite bearable, though it leaves whoever is carrying it vulnerable, since four spears is too many to wield in any useful fashion. But the other has a spear in each hand and only one backpack, allowing them the mobility to fight. Having all six spears isn’t necessary, but I couldn’t bring myself to leave any of them in the cornucopia, and I’m certainly not going to leave a trail of weapons now.

We walk along the tree line all afternoon. Just before the sun dips below the horizon, we retreat a little way into the trees and find a large bramble patch to camp in. We end up crawling into the middle so as to break as few branches as possible and minimize the possibility of another tribute stumbling across our trail. We decide not to risk a fire.

No sooner have we settled in the middle of the bramble patch than the Capitol anthem plays. With some creative neck craning, I can see the projection of the pictures of the dead tributes. Farroe, the girl from Three, both from Five, and the boy from Six. This also means, I realize, that the only deaths today happened during the bloodbath.

Mako volunteers to take the first watch. I don’t argue, and get out the sleeping bag. It has gotten chilly since sunset. Mako takes the blanket and wraps it around his shoulders, nibbling one of the cream cheese rolls. I have a piece of jerky and my roll, then curl up and fall asleep almost instantly.

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

I wake to a hand pressed over my mouth. Mako’s face is hovering over mine, wearing the night-vision glasses, a finger pressed to his lips. I nod, and he removes his hand from my face, then points out of our bramble patch to the right. I can see shapes moving, three or four tributes, but I have no idea which ones. They walk within twenty yards of our bramble patch, talking quietly, though I cannot make out what they are saying, and then disappear off to the left. They seem to have the same plan as us, except in the opposite direction. This makes me question the wisdom of going to the hills, but water runs downhill. If there is anywhere to find it, I still think that is our best bet.

I am wide awake after the encounter with the others, so after many long minutes of sitting silent and still to make sure they are gone, I trade Mako the sleeping bag for the blanket. He hands me the glasses and is quickly asleep.

I put the glasses on and look around. Mako would have been able to see exactly which tributes walked by. Not only that, but he would have seen them coming long before he could have otherwise. I wouldn’t have seen them until they were nearly on top of us had he not pointed them out.

I let Mako sleep the next morning. He took more than his share of the watch, so it is the least I can do.

Mako wakes with a start when the sun is a fair distance above the horizon. Judging from the sun, it is perhaps nine in the morning, though I have no real way of knowing that. It can be whatever time the Gamemakers want it to be in the arena. We re-pack our belongings, crawl out of the brambles, and continue along the tree line. By noon, we have run out of trees to follow. We decide to brave the grass; the hills are so close.

After perhaps another hour, we reach the top of the first of the hills and stop short. “I think we found the water,” Mako says.

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

In front of us, glittering in the sunlight, is a broad river. On the far side are more, taller hills, and to the left is the tallest of them all. But as I look at it, I realize it is not a hill at all, but the enormous face of a dam. The river here is the water that has run out of the spillway into this valley, and there, far off to the right and deep into the trees, is where the river runs into the rest of the arena. Part of me wants to climb to the top of the dam. It is the highest ground to be had, but I also know how exposed we would be up there.

Mako points out a small patch of trees at the base of the dam on this side. “Probably as good a place as any.”

I agree, so we set off again, but not before drinking the last of our water and refilling all three bottles from the river, dropping a tablet in each to make sure they have as much time as we can give them. The instructions say half an hour, and without a watch, it’s difficult to tell. We decide it is better to be overcautious.

It is nearly dark when we reach the tree patch. We unpack what we need for the night, and I have just tucked myself into the sleeping bag when another parachute drifts down to our camp. This one contains a pair of cinnamon rolls that we immediately eat. The anthem plays as we finish licking our fingers.

“I don’t remember hearing any cannons today,” I say.

Mako shakes his head. “Me neither.”

Sure enough, there are no pictures after the anthem. “Slow day,” I say with a smile.

Mako snorts. “Let’s enjoy it while it lasts.”

****

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