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buckets-and-trees · 1 year

Text

Unholy Errand

Characters/Pairings: Lloyd Hansen x female!Reader, God the Bounty Hunter x female!Reader, Ransom Drysdale Word Count: 4k

Summary: You're caught in the crosshairs when a hit goes out for your boss.

Content Warnings: non-consent and dubious consent, cuckolding, bondage, knife play, dacryphilia, oral (m and f receiving), cumplay, spitting, facial/marking, groping, spanking, clothed males naked female, coarse language, mild but irreverent use of religious terminology/themes (we’ve got a bounty hunter who refers to himself as God – we’re not committing hard to the bit, but we are using the bit), use of pet names + no y/n

Notes: I was happily working on some other lovely things last weekend, and then Sunday afternoon, totally unprovoked, a rogue muse crept up and whispered, "Lloyd and God..." and my brain broke, and I told @navybrat817 and she immediately enabled/encouraged the sprouting of this fic (and helped identify exactly who these two would be after). I thought this might be fifteen hundred words... and then it hit 2k, and then 3k, and they still weren't done with poor Reader, so...

Additional Notes: First time writing Lloyd, God, or Ransom in any capacity. This is also straight up the filthiest thing I've gone all in on. Is it the filthiest thing that exists on the internet? Of course not, but my filthiest and READ THE TAGS. This is NOT your standard Aspen fic. But was this a bit of a riot to write? Yep. It had a chokehold on me all week, and I stayed up far too late to finish it off tonight because... if I didn't, life would've prevented me finishing for a couple more days, and I've been too eager to push this out.

The clearing of his throat is what pulls your attention. You look up from your desk, taking in long legs in impossibly tight white slacks showing too much ankle, and a torso clad in a black turtleneck and blazer. A thick mustache lives above his smirk. He was too silent entering the offices, and he knows it, seems to revel in unsettling you. “Lloyd Hansen, the six o’clock appointment.”

“Yes, if you’ll follow me right this way,” you proffer politely, and move smoothly out of your chair, leading him to the door of your boss’s office. You give a short knock and open the door, announcing, “Lloyd Hansen, sir,” as you briefly step inside, holding the door open for the man.

He’s still smirking as he passes by, and then you sweep back out, but not before hearing Lloyd whistle and say, “Fancy shit you got yourself in this office, Ran,” as you close the door on them.

You sigh as you sit back down at your desk. Lloyd is your boss’s last meeting of the night, and he had seemed more than perturbed when he said to go ahead and accept the last-minute request Lloyd had made for the appointment. While this is the meeting of the day, Mr. Drysdale had made it clear he was staying late, which means you are also staying late, so you pull out the file of menus you keep in your desk and begin mulling over where to order dinner from tonight.

There’s a succession of loud thuds on the other side of the wall, and you only hesitate for a second before rushing into the office.

You stop dead, a small cry escaping your lips as you watch Lloyd wrestling Ransom to the ground.

“You may be sorry you disturbed us, sweetie, but since you’re here, be a good girl and close and lock that door so we don’t get interrupted by anyone else.”

You hesitate, staring in horror at the display before you: books knocked off the shelves, everything that’s usually so immaculately placed askew on the desk, a lamp overturned, Ransom Drysdale on the floor of his office with Lloyd Hansen’s knee pressed into his back and both arms pulled taught behind him while Lloyd binds his wrists together with the Hermes ascot scarf ripped from Ransom’s own neck.

Lloyd clucks his tongue. “Lock the door or I start cutting his fingers off. Barnes and Rogers only said they want your boss alive; they didn’t say how much of him still needs to be intact.”

“Do it,” Ransom grunts, turning his head away from you, clearly embarrassed at his predicament.

You turn and slowly close the door. You know there are still people working at Blood Like Wine tonight, and while it’s not likely that any of them will be passing through this wing after normal business hours, it’s probably safer that they stay out than accidentally stumble into whatever this dangerous mess is evolving into. You wished you had suppressed your own urge to investigate.

When you turn back around, Lloyd is unbuckling his belt as he continues to kneel against Ransoms back. He pulls it out, uses it to gag Ransom, giving it an additional tug after already pulling it tightly, and fastens it off.

“There, that’s just about perfect.”

“What are-?” You venture to ask, but he abruptly cuts you off.

“No one asked you to talk, sweetie, now come away from that door.”

You only take two reluctant steps towards them when there’s a scraping of wood that draws everyone’s attention to the opposite side of the room.

A piece of the floor is slowly being lifted from below, pushed out of the way, and then another man pops up from out of the floor. He hefts himself out of the hole in the floor and then drops a duffel bag on the floor, the heavy sound of muffled metal hinting at the equipment he’s brought with him.

“Oh, good, you’ve already done some of my work for me,” the tall, dark-haired man appraises the situation he’s just stepped into.

“Who the fuck are you, and where’d you come from?”

“Clearly you watched me ascend from a trapdoor in the floor.” He stalks over to stand in front of the large mahogany desk and sits back on the edge. “You didn’t think Harlan Thrombey - noted mystery author - wouldn’t have a publishing house full of trapdoors and secret passageways?”

“Didn’t need to, walked right in the front door. Still waiting to find out who you are.”

“God the Bounty Hunter.”

“Ooh,” Lloyd cocks his head, and another one of his smirks returns, “I can’t say I hate the audacity. Very bold. But there are a lot of gods and only one Lloyd Hansen.

“Now we’re clearly both here because of the hit put out for this prick, but since there are two of them and two of us, why don’t you make yourself useful, God, and tie up this little Margaret while I get Ransom nice and comfortable here.”

“With pleasure,” God says, and beckons you over to him.

The way he fixes you with his gaze is so intense you can’t to resist his silent command. He stands when you’re just a foot or two away, puts a ringer under your chin to tilt your head up, and looks down into your face. You don’t dare look away, nor do you want to, for some reason.

After another moment, he lets your chin drop, and God begins to circle you, looking you up and down. You hold very still. “You don’t need to be tied up, do you? You like to behave, to be praised.”

Lloyd lets out a loud, longsuffering sigh. “Fine, it can be more fun when they’re tied up, but I’m not picky as long as I get what I want.” Then his tone changes, directing his next words at you. “Understand, sweetie?”

You nod.

“Good.” With that, Lloyd pushes his knee roughly into Ransom’s back, drawing a painful groan from the bound man, before standing and hauling Ransom up with him. He shoves Ransom down to sit on the couch that faces the desk in the small entertaining area of Ransom’s office. “Now Relax, let me pour myself a drink. No reason we can’t enjoy ourselves for a few minutes, for old time’s sake.”

While Lloyd pours some bourbon, God steps right up behind you, close enough that you can feel the heat of him. He moves your hair off your shoulder, and leans close to whisper in your ear, “You be very good, and I’ll make you my angel.” You can’t help but shiver - it’s the heat of his breath at your neck and the promised threat - and you know he notices your reaction, because there’s a soft, dark chuckle before he presses a hot kiss to the base of your neck. His hand comes around to your front, toying with the edge of your open collar, and then he lightly draws his index finger along your clavicle and then up the other side of your neck. You don’t realize you’re holding your breath until you gasp when his other hand quickly pushes a small piece of metal right below your ear.

“And what’s that?” Lloyd asks, not missing the tagging.

“A little incentive for obedience,” God answers. “Fifty-thousand volts when fully unleashed.”

There’s a non-electrically generated jolt in your stomach, but it’s not pure fear, it’s tinged with a little adrenaline as well.

“Huh. To each his own. Now down to business, Ran.”

God steps back and then leans on the edge of the desk again. He pulls you to stand between his legs, your back up against his chest, and his hands settle on your shoulders. Standing against him like this has your hips aligned with his, and you have no doubt it’s setting the stage for his intentions, even if it seems harmless enough now. It mimics a familiarity between partners that is both soothing and unsettling.

Across the room, Lloyd takes a seat on the other side of the couch from Ransom, drink in one hand, and draping his arm casually along the back of the couch. “It was quite a convenient circumstance that even had me nearby to make this social call Ransom. Couldn’t be happier that I’d get to drop in on you for something like this. Ransom and I both went to Yale, you know,” he tosses this part across the room to you and God. “Even ended up in the same fraternity. But he was a senior, I was a freshman. Didn’t spare me the time of day except for the hazing, right?”

His focus shifts back to Ransom, who only gives Lloyd a cold stare, unmoving, clearly not wanting to give Lloyd the satisfaction of any emotional reactions.

God’s hands shift from your shoulders and begin to stroke up and down your arms.

“Why am I boring us all with the backstory though? Old college buddies is pretty typical. You know what’s not typical? Barnes and Rogers putting a bounty out for someone. They’ve got their own guys, and you’re not hard to find.”

The hands move from your arms to your waist, moving up and down your ribs, and still Lloyd keeps talking.

“So, either you’re too important and they wanted the closest person available to pick you up and make a rush delivery to their door, or you’re not important enough for them to want to dispatch any of their own men to deal with you. Outsourcing because you’re still an inconvenience to them, and they can’t let you go unpunished.

Strong hands on your hips.

“Maybe you can prove to be useful tonight, sweetie. How long have you worked for Ranny here?”

You don’t know if you should be surprised that he’s turned his attention to you for questioning, but you do your best to keep your mind focused as you answer him. “I’ve worked for Mr. Drysdale for – oh –” God starts rubbing circles over your hipbones, applying more pressure and pushing you back against a very prominent erection “– a little over seven months.”

“Mr. Drysdale, eh?” Lloyd’s perennial smirk grows, and he tilts his head, tsking again. “You don’t have to pretend like you’re not assisting him after hours, I told you we were in the same frat, so I know what this bastard gets up to.”

Your mouth drops open a little, and Lloyd looks from you to Ransom, whose cold stare has turned into an unmistakable glare.

“Oho! So, she does only assist you professionally?” Lloyd laughs, seemingly out of genuine amusement. “You really are useless, Ranny.”

God is still relentless in touching you, exploring over and even under the clothing, one of his hands sliding down your leg to slip under your skirt to skim up your thigh, and the other stroking just under your breasts, calculated touches to evoke responses but not yet to take or give any more satisfaction.

Both strangers are demanding your attention, and you’re almost evenly divided between Lloyd’s words and God’s actions.

“She probably would’ve slept with you the first two weeks on the job, but now she’s gotta know you’re an insufferable prick.”

Would you have? You don’t think either statement is true. You were never drawn in by Ransom, and since working for him, you’ve only been focused on doing your job well, getting a good paycheck, and going home. Ransom wasn’t particularly demanding compared to other executives, and so you had only wanted him to continue to respect and rely on your assistance so he’d find you indispensable and raise your salary regularly.

God finally speaks again. “We should let the man see what he’ll never have.”

Lloyd sits back in the chair. “I’m not opposed.”

Your face burned. There was no question what he meant, and you did not want Ransom to see you on display, but Lloyd is intimidating and God is intoxicating, so you can do no more than comply as God unzips your skirt and pushes it to the floor.

Next he turns you around and works on the buttons of your shirt, in no hurry, putting your ass on display for Lloyd and Ransom while torturing you with more of the heated, intense eye contact that makes you nearly forget to breathe.

You’re only warned that Lloyd’s behind you when God looks over your shoulder, and you turn your head, but before you can fully face him, his hand has come down against your ass with enough force that you fall against God’s chest. He spanks you again, harder, and you whimper in God’s arms, your head falling against his shoulder with the sting and shock and humiliation.

Then, in another quick turn of events, Lloyd grasps the waistband of your panties with one hand, and you briefly feel the chill of metal against your skin as he slips a knife under the fabric and then slashes them away with two strokes and throws the fabric on the desk.

“Move, God, I want her up on the desk.”

God stands again, and he pulls your shirt off your shoulders as he moves away.

Lloyd could unclasp your bra, but of course Lloyd uses the knife to slice through the band.

“Drop it,” he instructs.

With a deep, steadying breath, you do as he says.

“Turn and sit up on the desk for us.”

You’ve taken hundreds of orders from this office, completing tasks you enjoyed and hated, this can be just another of those.

“Open those thighs for us all to see, sweetie.”

You close your eyes. You know what they will see, and the shame burns in your stomach.

Lloyd taps the flat part of his knife just above your knee. “Now.”

You bite your lip and look at the ground as you spread your legs. Lloyd presses the edge of the knife to the flesh of your inner thigh, forcing you to spread even wider if you don’t want him to cut into you.

Lloyd brings his knife to your chin to tilt your face up to look at him as he traces your wet folds with two fingers. The smirk is gone, replaced by a wicked grin. “Nice and slick for us.”

“God’s handiwork,” the other man is quick to note.

“Sure. A nice little sacrificial offering. Now, Ransom, since you’ve never had a taste, seems a shame not to give you a sample,” Lloyd says.

Ransom shifts and begins to stand, but Lloyd turns abruptly and points at him with the knife. “Stay there, you dumb fuck.”

Ransom sits back again.

“And don’t you dare look away.” He looks to God. “Shoot him if he does.”

God pulls a gun from behind his back that he must have had tucked into his waistband. You watch as he moves to the other side of the room and stands behind Ransom. He plants his gun at the base of Ransom’s skull, then locks eyes with you again. It’s clear he doesn’t want take his eyes off you if he’s going to have to ensure Ransom doesn’t either. Something in your chest stirs under his rapt attention.

Lloyd demands your attention again as he grips your hips and pulls you to the edge of the mahogany desk. He slaps your pussy, drawing a sharp cry from you, then drops down to delve between your thighs. He gives your clit a vicious nip, and you bit back another yelp. His tongue plunders into your cunt, licking and sucking, and your hands are moving to grasp his skull to anchor yourself, but he’s already pulling away. As he stands, he yanks you off the desk, and strides across the room, dragging you with him.

He spits directly in Ransom’s face – a combination of Lloyd’s saliva and your slick that he’s not able to do anything but let drip down his face. Your mouth is agape, truly shocked. Ransom’s entire body radiates rage and embarrassment.

“That’s all you’ll be getting from her, Drysdale.”

Then Lloyd’s shoves you to your knees, putting you on display in profile to the other men. He undoes the zipper of his pants, releasing his cock, no underwear to fuss about.

“Open up,” he demands, and you comply, unwilling to provoke this demon who clearly doesn’t play by any rules.

He slips the angry red tip of his cock into your mouth. “Be good,” he warns. You give a small nod, closing your mouth around him. With one hand, he grips your head and begins to thrust in and out of your mouth. You and gag, and your eyes close as you try to focus very hard on breathing through your nose. He’s hitting the back of your throat with each brutal thrust, and the tears spill quickly down your face.

“Eyes on me,” he grunts, and you force them open and look up at him, knowing what he wants to see. He groans in approval. “You are a pretty little trinket, prettier when you cry.”

Then he abruptly pulls you off his dick and grips you by the chin and turns your head for Ransom and God. “Fucking look at her, swollen lips, gasping for breath, desperate.”

Just as quickly he slots his dick back in your mouth, this time gripping your head with both hands and he fucks your face with abandon. Fast. Hard. Your whimpers turn into sobs, and your hands come up to brace and grasp desperately at his thighs. “You can still take it,” Lloyd growls, undeterred, and you’re powerless to stop him. The tears are not just running but flooding down your cheeks. It’s too much now, and you can’t get enough air, and vision is going black. Finally he throws you off and away from him, and turns to aim his cock at Ransom, shooting his load over his face and shoulders, letting out a hiss that turns into a hum.

You’re hunched over and you wretch – blessedly only once – bracing your hands on the floor, and you gulp and heave, lungs fraught for the necessary oxygen.

Lloyd is talking again. The voice registers, but not the words.

And there are warm hands on you again. One rubbing small circles at the base of your spine, the other pushing your hair out of your face and coaxing you to look up at him.

With enough soothing, God has you breathing evenly again, and you’re still crying a little, but he helps you up onto the couch and sits next to you, very close, and he tucks a hand under your chin and lifts your face up, then he licks your left cheek, then the right, lapping up the tears. You hiccup, not sure how to react. Then he merely strokes your cheek, and the fingers trail down your neck, down your chest, down, down…

“Boring,” Lloyd announces.

You look up at him for a moment, but then God’s questing fingers reach the point he really wants to concentrate his might on, plunging into your wet cunt, and your eyes flutter closed.

“I’m eager to be done here,” Lloyd continues while God continues pumping his digits in and out of you. “We don’t need any more dumbasses showing up for this fool.”

“Agreed,” God says, casually as if he’s not beginning to pull you apart softly but surely. “You take him. I’ll keep her. There’s room for her in the trunk next to the cargo.”

“Fine, I wasn’t fussed about the goods anyway, I only took this job for the satisfaction of humiliating Drysdale, and that’s already exceeded my expectations. I’m sure Barnes and Rogers will give you enough for the recovered inventory even without him, and I’ll do you a solid and not mention the little side piece you’ll be keeping for yourself.”

God moves you off the couch, coaxing you to lean over the coffee table and kneels behind you. “Good.”

You moan as God slowly pushes his hard length inside your cunt.

There’s a thud next to you, and you turn to see a pile of Ransom hit the floor a few feet away.

“I assume you’ve got a way to move this man through down in that passage?” Lloyd asks, dragging the unconscious figure across the floor by his feet.

“Mhmm,” he responds, more intent on the movement of his hips against yours, slowly pistonning in and out of your tight heat.

“Good. This was fun enough, but let’s not do this again.”

God pulls your head up roughly to look at Lloyd just as he’s about to drop into the floor. “Say goodbye to Lloyd, Angel.”

You’re barely able to make the, “Bye,” tumble out of your lips, you’re so full of this man behind you, and his sudden roughness taking you by surprise.

Lloyd chuckles, then disappears.

God lets you drop back down, leaning on your elbows.

“I thought he’d never stop talking,” God murmurs.

It’s bitter, but a laugh actually falls from your lips, but you still can’t form words.

“There’s other things I’d rather do with you around than talk.”

He adjusts his angle from behind you. It allows him to plunge more of his cock into your slick channel, and you groan, but then after only a few thrusts, he pauses, balls deep inside you.

“You took what he gave you, but I think you don’t want me to stop, do you?”

You’re breathless. You can’t speak. You don’t want to speak?

He places his right hand, palm flat, at the base of your spine and presses it slowly up your back, his middle finger trailing up the ridge of your vertebrae, and you can feel the metal of his ring draw a line along your skin.

“You were very good.”

He rocks his hips against you, and you whimper.

“I said I would make you mine if you were good.”

Another rocking. He moves his hand from the nape of your neck around to grip it fully, and he pulls you back up against his chest, and you’re gasping for air for a moment, both hands coming up to clutch at his arm.

He lowers his voice and delivers his next words right into your ear. “You want to be mine, don’t you?”

Your pussy clenches around him, and he presses a kiss against your throat, and you feel the smile of his lips against your skin.

His other hand moves down across your hip, to your vee, and his deft fingers stroke your throbbing clit. He doesn’t move his cock, but he does move those fingers expertly, drawing tight little circles that wind you up to the top until you’re flung off the edge and into pure pleasure.

Coming down from your first orgasm, you sink against him. As your breathing returns to normal, the hand on your neck remains like an anchor, but his other hand moves up to tilt your chin to the side and up to meet his lips. The kiss claims you, and you part your lips for him, just as you’ve parted your legs for him – willingly.

“That was one, but I want a trinity to secure your devotion here tonight. I’m going to fuck you dumb, dress you, and then you’re going to walk out of here like a sweet little angel and get in my car. Then I’ll let you choose. You can sit up front and keep my cock warm or you can crawl in the back of the trunk. Your choice.”

How are we?

I'm ruined.

Restore my health with your lovely reblogs, commentary, comments...

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

#god the bounty hunter #god the bounty hunter x reader #lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen fanfiction #god the bounty hunter fanfiction #aspen wrote something #tw: noncon #tw: dubcon #dark smut #lloyd hansen smut #god the bounty hunter smut #female reader

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jesterwriting · 6 months

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hi hi i saw your requests are open! can i request something fluffy or angsty maybe a little spicy with law, where you tell him that “all i want is you” fem reader or gn reader i don’t mind! thank you🩷

pairing: law x gn!reader

contents: angst, hurt/comfort, jealous!law, you're both kinda tipsy, making out to heartfelt conversation, complimenting law because he needs it, probably ooc

word count: .9k words

note: i dont know why, but this gave me so much trouble to write it was crazy. literally gator wrestled these words in a pile of mud. i got death rolled. but i'm happy with the results and i hope you are too anon <33 thank you so much for the request! :3

playlist: science/visions by chvrches

Law kissed you like you were about to disappear.

Hungry lips trailed down your neck to your collarbone where he nipped and sucked at your sensitive flesh. You sighed, tangling your fingers in his hair to pull him closer. His hands were cold as they slid up your ribcage, you couldn’t stop the giggle that bubbled from your lips.

Asshole. He wouldn’t think it was very funny if you tickled him mid-makeout. To keep from jamming your hands under his armpits in retribution, you busied yourself by pressing kisses to whatever part of Law your lips could reach. He groaned when you nipped at the shell of his ear, grinding his crotch against yours.

If you knew getting Law jealous would result in something so steamy, you’d do it more often. While you didn’t classify your conversation with that friendly bar patron as flirting, judging by Law’s insistence to mark every inch of skin he could find, he certainly did. You threw your head back and moaned when his teeth met the junction where your neck and shoulder met, soothing the bite with gentle laps of his tongue.

“Jeez, what’s gotten into you,” You managed to say between gasps. “Are you trying to eat me alive?”

He didn’t look up. Not a chuckle, not a glance, not even a smirk. After leaving your throat thoroughly bruised, Law moved onto your chest.

“I’ll get to that later,” He finally answered.

There was something off about Law. He refused to meet your eyes, completely single minded in his quest of turning you into a giant bruise. It wasn’t until his hands cupped your face did you notice that they were trembling. You wasted no time prying Law from your stomach, forcing him to meet your eyes. Whatever you expected, nothing prepared you for the split second glimmer of unease before it was promptly snuffed out by a glare.

“Woah, calm down, Law, you’re acting funny.”

He snorted and sat back on his heels. There was the scent of alcohol on his breath, and while you knew you indulged as well, he wouldn’t come back smelling of it from your lips alone. “Not as funny as that guy at the bar.”

Okay, he was really jealous.

“It wasn’t like that, he was telling me about the history of the town.”

Law rolled his eyes. “You were all over him.” Before the instinctual ‘was not’ was able to leave your mouth, he looked away and stuffed his hands in his pockets. His next words were barely audible, grumbled just under his breath. “You never laugh like that when you’re with me.”

Oh.

This went a little deeper than petty jealousy.

Pulling your shirt down, you sat up to meet Law’s stare. He seemed to regret the words as soon as they left his mouth, teeth clenched so tight you could see the tendons in his jaw jump. You patted the space next to you on his bed. “Sit down, we should talk.”

Stubborn as always, Law stayed standing. “I should get going, I have work to get done before morning.”

He turned on his heel, and before he was able to exit the room, your arm shot out to grab him. Law didn’t pull away from you, only let out a heavy sigh as your thumb traced tender circles onto the inside of his wrist.

“All I want is you, you know that, right?” When he didn’t respond, you tugged him closer. Law only budged because he wanted to. No one alive could make him do what he didn’t want to do. So as he slowly made his way to the bed, boots heavy against the floor, and sat down beside you, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You took his tattooed hand in your own, gently playing with his fingers. Law still wouldn’t look at you, gaze fixed stubbornly at the far wall. “Come on, you have to know that.”

The silence was deafening. In a desperate attempt to fill it, you nudged Law with a half-hearted smile. “You make me laugh all the time.”

“Not like that.”

That wasn’t good. You trailed your fingers along his arms where they met at his face. Tugging on his chin to manually force him to look at you, you spoke your next words earnestly. “I love you, Law. Not some rando at the bar. Yeah, maybe he made me laugh a little, but he doesn’t hold a candle to you. I love your dry wit. I love your intelligence. I love how you care for everyone on this ship before anything else. You’re a good person and a good doctor, I don’t know where I’d be without you.”

You must have gotten through to him because the tips of his ears were tinged pink. With a relieved smile, you placed a small peck to the corner of his lips. They twitched upwards, though you could tell Law tried to stifle it and keep his displeased expression.

“You can stop now,” He said, face two shades darker than usual.

“Oh, I’m just getting started.”

The rest of the night was spent with you singing Law’s praises that he consistently waved off, pretending like you couldn’t tell he liked it. Every so often, you would place a chaste kiss to the back of his hand or to his cheek, a sharp contrast to the hungry mouth that was on your mere minutes earlier. If Law really wanted you to stop, you would. All he had to do was say it.

Three hours passed with Law in your arms, and not once did the word ‘stop’ leave his lips.

#one piece x reader #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar law x you #trafalgar law x y/n #law x reader #law x you #law x yn #.jesterwrites

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groundzerosgirlfriend · 1 month

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A/n: Just binge watched all three seasons of Dr. Stone and Senku and Tsukasa can do whatever they want to me! Bark Bakrk woof Awooga!

Soft boyfriend Tsukasa: That revived you in this new stone world with the 'miracle fluid' after gathering a strong enough army, to ensure your safety at all times.

Soft boyfriend Tsukasa: That barely wants his right-hand man Hyoga to be around you unless it's absolutely necessary going out of way to forage, fish, and hunt with you.

Soft Boyfriend Tsukasa: That sits beside you for quality time as you sew and talk his ear off about everything that runs his mind and although he could spend his time elsewhere, where else would he want to be.

Soft Boyfriend Tsukasa: That is still as sweet as he was 3,700 years ago instead of carrying your books to school, he carries any prey you caught, any basket of mushrooms, and any firewood (He doesn't want his gorgeous girl working hard, what type of boyfriend would he be).

Soft Boyfriend Tsukasa: That ignores all the other attractive women (much to the disappointment of Minami) in his empire throwing themselves at him much preferring to keep his sights set on you. His one and only.

Soft Boyfriend Tsukasa: Whose heart breaks as you finally see him firsthand destroy a statue of an older gentleman the crumbled rock around his feet and his gut twisting as your eyes prick the slightest tears.

Soft boyfriend Tsukasa: Who doesn't follow after you when your quick leave his vicinity not wanting to pressure you into talking to him, knowing how empathetic you are about a lot of things (It's one of the things he loves about you, but right now it's biting him in the ass).

Soft Boyfriend Tsukasa: Whose heart beats harder than it ever has when comparing it to any of his grueling wrestling matches after a week of silence on your end you sit next to him at the campfire site just leaning your head on his shoulder.

Soft Boyfriend Tsukasa: Who's about to apologize for slaughtering those statues in front of you and explain his reasoning behind his uncouth action is surprised when you tell him 'You don't mind.'

Soft Boyfriend Tsukasa: Who stays quiet with ears open as you express that although you don't like what he's doing, you condone killing innocent people statues or not, but you won't question it or force him to stop knowing it has to be for good reason.

Soft Boyfriend Tsukasa: Who places his huge hands-on top of yours just giving a gentle squeeze of acknowledgement and thankfulness, because in this moment no words need to be said as the fire crackles in front of you two.

Soft Boyfriend Tsukasa: Who is now happier than he thinks he's ever been having both you and his newly revived sister free from her dreaded comatose (with the help of Senku) at his side.

Soft Boyfriend Tsukasa: Who smiles the slightest bit and chuckles softly as he watches from the sidelines you entertain and play with his younger sister grateful that the two of you get along so well and even wondering if one day you would want a family with him. A blend of both of your genes.

Soft Boyfriend Tsukasa: That sacrifices his life with a spear piercing through his lung at the river side when Hyoga attempts to attack you and Miria. The last thing he sees before he falls into the river is you and Senku reaching out for him in a desperate attempt to catch him.

Soft Boyfriend Tsukasa: After his epic battle with Senku at his side he spends his last minutes alive breathing ragged and hoarse with you and the renowned scientist. His head in your lap and holding each other hands as he chuckles at Senku's attempt at small talk.

Soft Boyfriend Tsukasa: That whispers out a barely heard "I love you" but before you can even comprehend it and much less respond his eyes softly close, and his breathing comes to a permanent stop.

Soft Boyfriend Tsukasa: Who unknowingly has you and his sister by his side the entire time he is in cold sleep. Barely leaving the makeshift refrigerator as you tell him stories and talk his ear off knowing that you won't get a response.

Soft Boyfriend Tsukasa: Who when he's finally revived and healed from what were once permanent wounds hugs his teary-eyed little sister and looks around the cave space for you inconspicuously knowing you couldn't be far.

Soft Boyfriend Tsukasa: Who finally spots you in the very back of the group your lip quivering as he cracks the softest of smiles and hold his arms open for you to rush into as you cry and snot all over his bare chest comforting you with the fact that he was alive and well now.

Soft Boyfriend Tsukasa: Who even though was dead for months on end in that cold refrigerator somehow knew that you were by his side the entire time thanking you for never giving up on him.

Soft Boyfriend Tsukasa: Who sits with you on the cave floor simply murmuring low sweet nothings in your ear as you cling onto him as if to make sure he's really alive and well, your head pressed against his chest to hear his heart beating once more.

Soft Boyfriend Tsukasa: Who says "Let me say it properly this time, my dear. I love you."

Extra: Soft Boyfriend Tsukasa: Who could most definitely manhandle you like a little ragdoll but refrains from it since you've never expressed interest in such rough treatment. But after he tosses you over his shoulder to carry you out the cave without asking in the heat of the moment and hears your delighted giggle, he'll be sure to bring that up with you.

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artist-issues · 1 month

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Been a while since we've heard, how did your readthrough of the Harry Potter books go?

Hey! Ho! I forgot to update on that didn't I? My bad!

I haven't worked out all my feelings about it! The last book was so...odd. I felt frustrated through the whole thing. Most of the books felt like you were waiting to figure stuff out—the main characters would try to get information and solve problems and fail or cause more problems in the process, but there was usually some secondary goal they consistently had hope in. Like, maybe Harry Potter can't figure out who's trying to kill him, and has constant setbacks in that. BUT, their secondary goal, winning the Tri-Wizard Cup, is usually...hopeful. They're usually doing well with one of their two main goals, and then the climax happens, and they lose something important, but ultimately ene on a hopeful note. You know, Harry wins the Tri-Wizard Cup, but Voldemort's back and Cedric is dead, that sort of thing.

But. In the conclusion of the series, it felt like the main characters were getting nowhere, in their primary goals AND their secondary goals, for so long. Then the ending, the pacing of it all, felt rushed. And I didn't love the plot device of the Elder Wand, or how in the climax of the book, when Harry is fighting Voldemort, they stop to have like a twenty-minute conversation about all the exposition the reader needs to know to understand how Harry is about to beat him—and Harry was basically insufferable for the whole book.

that was my initial impression. It might age better if I go back and re-read. I definitely like some of the Messianic notes of Harry dying for everybody—then picking his life back up again to defeat the bad guy once and for all.

and they killed Lupin. Which. He's my favorite I thought he had the most interesting "character arc" of any of the adult characters. It seemed like his biggest fear was inadequacy as a father, heightened by the fact that he's a werewolf, so he thought he'd make his son's life harder and more shameful by even being alive...so as part of that interesting character flaw, Lupin tries to kamikaze by going on the run with Harry. Then he goes back and resolves to live with his wife (who he wrestles with the safety of loving) and child (same wrestling match) because being present as a father and husband is the right thing to do, regardless of how difficult it is for you.

And then he dies anyway.

So it's like. What the heck was the point of that? Makes the lesson he, as a character, was teaching, hollow. Like "Living as a good father is harder than dying a martyr—but I'm dead, so I don't have to worry about that, I guess the thought was what counted."

And people will say to me "nooo he was willing to take risks and sacrifice! He sacrificed his life! To make a better world for his son!"

Yeah okay but we already had self-sacrificial love impacting an orphan's life through the death of parents in the main character. Lily and James Potter did that. Already got that lesson. Now tell a story about how just going on and living your life for someone, say to day, especially when it's hard and they might not thank you for it, is also self-sacrificial. I thought that was the mini-story Lupin's character was telling, on the side of the main plot. But then no, Rowling just repeats herself. She just starts an interesting thing and then finishes it in the least-interesting way.

I feel like one of the basics of storytelling is "create a character that needs to learn something. Then put them through the hardest circumstances so that they're forced to change into what they need to learn." Dying in battle was not Lupin's hardest circumstance. You know what would've been? Killing Tonks, his wife, so that he's forced to raise their son alone and still stay—or keeping them both alive, but Lupin's curse is worse than ever after the battle. Or just simply keeping them both alive, and putting a little nod in the epilogue to how Harry's kids defend Lupin's son from bullies, and it's hinted at that society still doesn't accept werewolves and their lives aren't perfect, but they're all sticking around for each other.

I mean you don't even get to have Tonks react to Lupin's death. And the only Weasley that was killed was one of the twins—don't get me wrong, that's still horrible. But if you're trying to make a point about the losses of war, kill a character who is one-of-a-kind to the audience...not one-of-two.

Also, the thing with Snape and Lily didn't hit. Haven't analyzed why, yet. There's something to be learned about showing and telling there. I mean, what the author showed me for seven books was a mean and nasty man who loved nothing. I experienced it with Harry. I tasted the sting of the insults and the cruel remarks and the unfairness. For seven books. You know what's less powerful? A handful of pages quickly info-dumping the idea that no, he was in love and acting out of unrequited love all along. Like anti-heroic Snape is a compelling idea to be told about, but it's not nearly as strong as the experience of being shown villainous Snape, moment by moment, book by book.

Same thing with Dumbledore's emotional reveal of his own history. Like. Okay. But you only just now told me I should care about Dumbledore's family, in the last half of the last book. I don't feel as badly about him and his family as I would've if you'd slowly shown me who they were, even in memory, for the last seven books—like she did super well with Lily and James and Sirius.

anyway. Those are my half-baked thoughts. I was also...running a super high fever and reading the last few chapters at 1 in the morning, at the time. So they're super underdone thoughts. Thanks for asking!

#Harry Potter #Remus Lupin #J.K. Rowling #writing #asked #answered

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hauntedbubbles · 1 month

Text

They're so sassy with it 🤣🤣🤣

Graves: Watch your ass down there Soap: Aye...I'll be watchin' somebody's arse doon ther'👀 Ghost: Fuckin' 'ell

@atombonniebaby here with my secondary blog...wanted to give my cod content it's own home... HantedBubbles = SoapGhost 🧼💀

I'm also doing a one shot, where Soap didn't get the birthday he had planned, and the boys decide to drop in, unannounced to cheer him up. (or Price has the kids for the weekend)

So...I wrote a bit where Ghost is bribed into getting the above outfit when they're out getting supplies 🤣

Have a read 👇🏼 encourage me to finish it 🙌🏼

"You seen this?" Gaz holds up a t-shirt, a mix of black and neon pinks. "It's got a skull."

He should hate it. He knows he should. It's garish and loud and everything he'd usually scoff at. But fuck it all, he sorta loves it? "It's not the worst thing you Muppets have shown me..."

"With them grey jeans and this..." Gaz hands him a light grey garment, a jacket by the looks of it, trendier than he'd ever have chosen for himself. The arms look like they'd cut off circulation to his hands if he flexed too hard. "I think it could work."

"Go on, son, no point speculating, go try ‘em on." Price shoos him in the direction of the changing rooms.

He could complain or try to argue his case, but he knows this is one of those battles he won't win. With a heady sigh he makes his way to an empty cubicle, which is hardly big enough to house a fucking toddler... never mind his 6”3’ arse.

After what felt like the warm-up session from his workouts (and an hour of swearing at buttons), Ghost managed to wrestle himself into a pair of jeans that actually fit him (if you don't look down past his shins) They were just long enough that his boots might reach ‘em. (And spare him the trouble of looking a right tosser.)

They was...a little hugging. The soft, light grey denim, a far cry from his usual heavy blue work jeans and cargos... He almost hates them too, wants to, but even he can admit, his legs looked mint in ‘em, he turned then, to see how they look in the back and— yeah...not on their life... this ain’t ‘appenin’—

"You alive in there?” Price, king-of-choosing-his-moments, knocked on the door.

Fuck! The button's stuck!..."Ye...yeah..." He struggled to breathe out, trying to keep quiet while fat fingers fumbled with the bastard button. "Tha’s it! I-I ain't buyin' 'nout from 'ere— fuckin' ’ell!”

"Simon, unlock it, yeah?”

If that fucker laughed he'd kill him. With a defeated sigh, Ghost opened the door just enough for Price to slide inside the tiny space... He looks down at the captain and debates if he has enough room to hide the body.

“Just help us get these off, yeah? Fuckin' things are stuck!”

"Reign it in...take a breath." He had to give it to the Captain, that smile that nearly broke, stayed away. "They ain't bad on ya, what's the matter?”

He's more caked up than the fucking bakery isle in this here Big Tesco is what's the fucking matter. "They ain't practical, Captain. Soft as shit fabric'll fall apart after a few washes."

"Fifty quid..." Price smiled, arms crossed and smug as he opened the door. "And I'll buy 'em for ya?”

"Why?” Ghost blurted out. "I ain't got anywhere to wear 'em!"

"Because I remember the crazy shit you used to wear back in the day, and this is bloody tame... Why not let Simon have this one, eh?”

He hated the way his cheeks burned hotter... but fifty quid? Outta the Captains pocket? Fuckin' hell. "A'right, fine! But on the small chance I croak it t’night and end up a real fuckin' ghost lookin' like a knob...I'm haunting ya!”

Price laughed at that, clapping him on the shoulder. "That sounds like a yes?"

"A begrudging one."

"Then get to it. We 'aven't got all day."

Bastard.

Ghost double knotted his laces. Nothing pinched, everything fitted, felt comfortable. Fuck. He stood on a deep breath and turned to the ridiculously big mirror and tugged the scarf back down around his neck, running a hand through his hair. "Fuck's sake..."

The skull T-shirt clung a little tighter than he expected. Not quite a second skin, but enough to be noticeable. These clothes were... new and different, and he doesn't know how to process how that made him feel.

He was the kind of guy that could blend into any crowd, could fade into the background and be unnoticed. He liked being invisible. Hated being in the spotlight.

The jeans made him feel like an asshole.

The shirt made him look like a twat.

And yet, who he found staring back in the mirror was a man that could pass for an everyday bloke. One who didn't live on the fringes of society, one who hadn't done the things he had. This was a guy who could be content curled up on the sofa with a book and a cup of tea. The kind of man that had roots, who had friends and family that stood by him...had his back.

Simon stepped out of that cubicle, feeling more naked than he had when he'd stripped down. Yet, a strange sense of security washed over him as he faced his commanding officer with an apprehensive stare.

Price had that stupid, dopey grin plastered on his face, just like when he was congratulating his troops on a job well done.

"There he is," Price whispered as he reached up to ruffle his hair, and he batted the hand away, scowling as he ducked out of the changing room.

"Fuckin' hell, sir..."

"Garrick...I'm warnin' ya..." he growled, shoving the smaller man towards the exit of the store. "Not another fuckin' word."

#If you guys have seen Barry and Sam's banter on lives...I just imagine that's how the whole team are!#john soap mactavish #ghostsoap #ghost mw2 #modern warfare #cod ghost #call of duty mwii #kyle gaz garrick #ghost riley #cod modern warfare #mw2 #captain price #john price #mw3 #mw2 fanfic #mw3 fanfic #warzone screens

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moonstruckloverwritings · 11 months

Note

Hi! Can you please do yandere! harry potter x reader general headcanons?

Yandere! Harry Potter General Headcanons

100% Delusional.

The first thing that sticks out about a yandere Harry Potter is just how much he’d play into different roles.

Let me explain.

He’d play the victim, the hero, the helpless, the hopeless, and any other role in order to keep you where he wants you.

He would 100% use his title and reputation to get you and keep you.

He would use his money the same way

He would be absolutely obsessed with you but wants you to be just as obsessed with him.

So he tries to act cool or tough or better than others just to impress you in some way.

But at the same time he has this delusion side that thinks you already like him. Because how could you not? He’s the chosen one! He’s rich! He’s popular! Etc.

It would eat him alive if you told him you didn’t like him.

He would spend every moment trying to convince you by doing impressive things around you or straight up trying to tell you why he’s worthy of you.

He would be protective and possessive as well too.

There’s no way anyone else is coming in between you both. No matter who or what it is.

If Ron, his best friend, starting talking bad about you for example, Harry would absolutely. Go. OFF.

Screaming and wrestling/fighting each other would then happen. It’s his best friend so he wouldn’t kill him. But Ron would have a serious argument/fight on his hands depending on what he said.

If it was anyone else, like draco for example, death. Just.. death. He wouldn’t hesitate.

And god forbid if anyone ever actually hurt you. That person would not just die but be tortured.

He does NOT play when it comes to you and your safety.

He maybe a bit crazy and harmful to others but he’s not that way with you.

When you two are dating, He does pamper you a lot. He’s obsessed with impressing you because he wants to be the best for you.

I feel like he’s always holding your hand or waist

His favorite spot to kiss you is definitely your cheek. He does it often

He likes spending a lot of time with you in anyway he can. Studying for potions class, talking about the future or what you both want to do career wise, he loves staying up with you and laughing about anything and everything. He just loves to see you happy and smiling.

He’d do anything to make you laugh even at his own expense.

Like once, he was spending the evening with you at Ron’s house before the quidditch World Cup and he was trying to impress you with his baking skills. (He definitely can cook/bake btw) but he tripped and got flour all over his face.

You couldn’t help but laugh which then in turn made him laugh. He didn’t care about the embarrassment or getting dusted with flour. He just loves seeing you smile.

#x reader #headcanon #x y/n #x you #headcanons #spotify #yandere #yande.re #obsessiveness #harry potter #harry james potter #harry x oc #harry x you #posessive #protective

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ithebookhoarder · 1 year

Text

Joel teaching you how to ride a horse: (Joel Miller x Reader)

A/N: I apologise in advance as I am through and through city bred, and do not -in fact - know how to ride a horse. I’d love to learn though, especially if Joel was willing to teach me 😅

Warnings: swearing, light smut, references to smut

Masterlist:

Riding a horse isn’t scary. Or, at least, it shouldn’t be.

Getting into college was scary. Surviving the outbreak after finishing a 12 hour shift at work was scary. Hell, every day since then, fighting and scrambling to stay alive despite the unknown horrors that seemed to surround you… now that had been scary.

But this? Learning to ride a horse? From Joel no less? It should have been a cakewalk.

You were embarrassed to say you were trembling all over before you’d even entered the training paddock. It had taken a whole lot of coaxing from your all too patient partner to get you to at least make it close enough to pet the horse, let alone mount it.

Why had you agreed to this again?

Oh, yeah.

Him.

Because of those big brown eyes of his and his soft, sultry tones… begging you to let him teach you so you could go on romantic rides together, beyond the borders of Jackson, see the sights, get some time alone… he’d made it sound so appealing, as he peppered kisses up and down your spine.

“But Joel… You know we could just skip the horse part and still go for a ride here, in bed-“

“Not that kind of ride, you minx.”

It’s also a smart idea, as Joel explains, so that you both knew you had a way of making a quick escape should it ever come to it.

It makes sense. Annoyingly. And you know you have no choice but to agree and give in.

Which is how you ended up here… frustrated, sweating, and regretting ever saying ‘hi’ to Joel Miller.

It’s not fair at all.

You have no idea how he makes it look so easy, what with him trotting about like one of those damn cowboys you’d seen in movies growing up. The kind your Nanna had fawned over whenever she got you to agree to watch an old black and white flick on a Sunday afternoon.

It was like the horse just knew what he wanted him to do without Joel ever having to do or say anything.

“It’s all in the grip, darling,” he explains after you huff and complain that your horse hates you. “Come here. I’ll show you.”

And he does.

He stands behind you and grabs you around the waist, changing his position and his grip several times in quick succession. It feels like you’re back in medical school again, being shown the various parts of human anatomy.

“What do you feel when I grab you like this, all super tight, like I’m crushing your ribs?”

“L… like you’re trying to hurt me?”

“Exactly? And when I hold you here? Like this, much looser, instead?”

“Like you’re trustworthy… that, I’m safe. That you’re trying to hug me rather than wrestle me.”

“Now imagine my arms are your legs, and your waist is that horse. You wonder why he’s getting all worked up, but he’s sensitive. He feels the same as you do. Relax and he’ll relax too. See? Easy.”

Yeah. Sure. Easier said than done.

Still, Joel is determined to see this through and does not allow you to quit - no matter how much you try.

He keeps on urging you back on to the horse every time you fall off, and is the first to praise you when you do something right.

“No wonder Ellie bitched so much about you teaching her to swim. Heard you pushed her in a river-”

“She learned to swim, didn't she?”

“JOEL!”

You hate to accept he has a point. After all, by the end of the day you’ve managed to learn to stay on the horse, and can actually steer them in any direction you wish.

Which, in Joel’s eyes, makes you a damn state champ and he’s keen to tell you as such.

In fact, he sounds so proud of you, gushing praise about how well you did, and how he knows it was tough but you stuck with it and that’s the most important thing about learning any new skill...

It makes you feel all gooey inside - especially as he runs you a hot bath later that night, so you can soak your aching body. You know without asking that the slowly growing pain will be even worse come morning.

It’s no wonder Joel’s stayed in as good shape as he has, given how much time he spends riding around the countryside beyond Jackson’s walls. In fact, you have a new found appreciation for it.

“You did real good, darling. I mean it. I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks, baby.”

“You’re welcome... now skooch on over so I can get in there with ya. Who knows when Ellie will get home, and I plan to make the most of having this place to ourselves.”

He doesn't have to ask twice.

Soon enough, your groans and moans of pain were soon replaced with those of pleasure, accompanied by the sound of water sloshing over the sides of the too-small tub.

If this is your reward then you’re not opposed to getting back in the saddle again at some point to finish your lessons.

But, be that as it may, you still definitely prefer being left aching after the other kind of ride instead... one that involves a bed, and a whole different kind of wild creature.

#ithebookhoarder #the last of us #tlou #Joel Miller #Joel Miller x reader #Joel Miller x you #joel miller headcanon #The last of us x reader #masterlist #thesilentmage #Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal character #the last of us headcanons #pedro pascal x reader

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thesweetnessofspring · 5 months

Note

This is going to be kind of long so thank you for reading beforehand.

When do you think Peeta decided he was going to enter the arena with the goal of protecting Katniss instead of fighting for his own survival? I have read so many comments from people that think that ever since he was reaped alongside her, he had decided she was the one who should make it out alive. Now, this is probably true but I think it presents his character as one dimensional and Katniss is constantly mystified by him and even refers to him as hard to predict. After reading the books several times, I think that he believed Katniss had the highest chances of surviving thanks to her skills (his mother’s own assessment probably replayed on his head too), but he fully decided to protect her after she got an 11 as her training score. Even though it was very well deserved, it also made her the Careers’ main target. It’s no coincidence that after this, he requested to be trained separately.

This takes me to his private coaching session with Haymitch. There’s a popular tumblr post where Peeta just tells him that he has been in love with Katniss for 11 years and even though it’s funny, I’m not so sure this is the way he chose to go about things. While it is true that he had feelings for Katniss, he also knew Haymitch was not a sentimental person and that he probably wouldn’t respond well or even consider a strategy based on feelings instead of facts. Especially at that point where they had just begun to develop a bond and it wasn’t as strong as it was in Catching Fire, for instance. So it makes more sense to me that Peeta made a case of how Katniss had the highest chances of winning the games which would only increase with their help and probably Haymitch was able to tell there were deeper feelings involved there which helped devise the star crossed lovers strategy in the first place.

Also, the night before the games, he tells Katniss: “Only I keep wishing I could think of a way to show the Capitol they don't own me”. So he kept thinking about it which sounds like his mind was still reeling with possibilities about how to make his last days meaningful while staying true to himself which shows he had much more depth than what we sometimes give him credit for.

But I don’t know, am I reading too much into it? Was it really as simple as Peeta loving Katniss since the beginning and that’s it? I love your analysis so much, thank you ♥️

Non, I love your thoughts and careful analysis of Peeta's character here! Too often he's reduced down to "in love with Katniss" and while that is obviously a huge cornerstone of his character and a fundamental aspect of how he makes decisions, it is not his only facet! And those different parts of him contribute to how he loves her as well.

I can only imagine that being reaped alongside your crush would be horrifying. Katniss volunteered and took her place first and he had to have hoped that she would win and come back. And then his name gets called and suddenly, for his wish to come true, that means he would have to be dead. At first, I'd imagine he'd think like Katniss. Hope they wouldn't have to raise a hand against each other. And although Peeta was unlikely to be reaped, he still could have. In this world, I imagine every person imagines how they'd play the games, Peeta especially. And if he hadn't been reaped with Katniss, he had his strategy down. Get sponsors. Win them over. And could it be that he even joined the wrestling team as a "just in case"? He says himself that he couldn't go down without a fight. Peeta was not planning to be a pacifist.

His mother certainly put doubts about his ability to win in his head when she declared Katniss the survivor, the winner. And the thing is, the Games have a huge element of randomness. Annie winning just because she could swim the longest and a variety of factors. If Katniss had gone after that bow and arrow, a Career might have gotten her--she was never a close-range fighter. Without Peeta to make her desirable, she might not have gotten as many sponsors. Peeta could have won on his own, even if his chances were smaller. For his mother to not even give him any hope of his survival? That's rough. But it was also possibly the first time Peeta could acknowledge that Katniss was more likely to win.

And they are a team up until Peeta asks to be trained separately. Part of that is constructed by Cinna, Portia, and Haymitch, but also the natural partnership Katniss and Peeta have. Neither wants the other to die, both would want the other to live if possible. Could Peeta have believed they could work together from the start? It's possible and a strategy I'm sure many did use, if not to the extend they did pre-Game. But so many things put the Games in Katniss's favor. She was the girl on fire, he was the boy next to her. She volunteered for Prim, he was the weepy boy. She got the eleven to his eight.

All of this had to accumulate to the outcome Peeta thought was inevitable: Katniss really could win. And she had a little sister and a mother that needed her, and a boy who would likely become her boyfriend. Peeta was the extra boy no one would really miss. So, yes, while I think Peeta was also trying to help Katniss, he hadn't discounted himself until that training score.

As for his session with Haymitch, the idea that Peeta came in with his crush as a first option also doesn't make sense. I do think that Peeta came in like "look, Katniss has the best chance of winning, and 12 needs a winner. What can I do to help her?" That's when the idea of infiltrating the Careers came about, Peeta making contingency plans of how to protect her physically in the arena from her toughest competitors. Haymitch picked up on Peeta's crush I'm sure. And Haymitch is the strategist, so if he brought in the star-crossed lovers, I wouldn't be surprised. He seems giddy about it after the interview, how well he can sell it, while Peeta is moody. Peeta was willing to do it, but how mortifying to have to use such a tender, private affection harbored for eleven years to save the life of the girl you've admired for a decade.

Suzanne is a careful writer and so Peeta still thinking about ways to not let them change him had to have come with consideration of how he was feeling at the time and how that strategy played out. Could it be he didn't realize the impact he was already making? Or that he was afraid his plan wouldn't work? He had to get in with the Careers which would have been no easy task, and if he failed, he'd just be another victim. Was there anything more he could have done? I'm sure that idea was growing and growing in his head as his seemingly imminent death approached. What did he live for in his short life? How could he be more than a tool for a government that oppressed so many? And I think this line shows that his thoughts weren't 100% on Katniss. Saving Katniss was a way to do this, but it was not like it was in Catching Fire. Then, for both of them, it was only about saving the other person. But for Peeta, the boy with the crush, the boy who didn't want to be a pawn, it was about Katniss but also about him. They're very interconnected and can't be separated because of their connection and the circumstances they found themselves in.

#the hunger games #peeta mellark #anon ask #long post

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waltwhitmansbeard · 6 months

Text

turned my water into wine #50

surprise, bitch, bet you thought you'd seen the last of me. this one was prompted by duchesscharliejames on ao3. see my masterpost.

There aren't a great many things that Grog takes seriously. Ale. Bedding women. His axe, which he sharpens with reverence every night before bed. His position within the Royal Guard, even though technically there are no more royals to guard. He's content to keep an eye on the young once-royals when they gallivant about, trusts that his size and his scowl will keep any and all threats away from his charges.

But what Grog sometimes fails to account for is how wily young children can be. Grog is fast, but not as fast as them, and it's easier to keep threats from them than it is to keep them from threatening themselves. Scanlan has accused Grog on more than one occasion of having a death wish—yes, his first thought upon being confronted by an owlbear was to wrestle it, is that so insane?—but his impulsivity could never compare to the way Vax and Keyleth's children throw themselves head-first into danger. How many times has Grog retrieved them from a tree they could climb up but not down, or snatched them back just before they darted right beneath a horse's hooves? Grog takes keeping these young ones alive very seriously, because it is, quite frankly, very difficult.

When Vilya and her visiting cousin, Vesper, wish to go play bandits in the woods, Grog is more than happy to join, mostly because he, too, loves playing bandits. The forest at the edge of Zephrah is bare this time of year, most of the leaves already littering the floor, which the girls crunch happily as they dash between trees. Grog plods along, doing his best to keep both excitable girls in his view at all times.

Vesper runs up to him and tugs on his trouser leg. "Grog, will you be a scary monster?"

Grog would love to be a scary monster. He fixes his face into a terrible grimace and roars. The girls shriek with delight and take off, and Grog gives chase. Vesper was closer, so he goes after her first, taking long, slow strides after her as she howls. He lets her get away from him for a minute or two before swooping in and catching her, lifting her high into the air as she wriggles and squeals and laughs.

Putting on his best monster voice, deep and silly, Grog says loudly, "Mmm, one little girl to eat, but I think TWO would be even better!"

Just as he turns to head after Vilya, he hears a high-pitched, terrified scream, and Grog knows in his bones that it is not the excited scream Vesper gave while being chased. He tears off at once, trying to remember the direction in which he saw Vilya run. Vesper is tucked under one arm like a ball. "Grog, was that Vilya?"

She sounds scared, and Grog doesn't know what to tell her, because he's scared, too. "I think so." His words are punctuated by a growl, low and ominous. It's coming from their left, so Grog turns and moves in that direction. Ahead, he can see her, little Vilya, back up against a tree, but she's not moving, save for the tremble Grog can see even from here.

He stops, turns, and sets Vesper high up in the branches of a tree. "Stay here," he commands, keeping his voice low. "Do not make a sound, and do not climb down on your own." Vesper nods, eyes wide with terror.

Grog's instinct is to creep forward, but the leaf litter will be too loud under foot to allow for stealth. Instead, he bounds in Vilya's direction, throwing himself, snarling and huge, between her and what he now sees to be a mountain lion ready to pounce. He roars, not the playful roar from before, but a powerful, booming, furious roar. The mountain lion ducks even closer to the ground, and so Grog takes a large, threatening step forward. Clearly decided that the delicious child would not be worth the risk, the big cat slinks off, disappearing between the trees.

Before he can turn around, Grog feels something slam into the back of his leg as tiny arms wrap around him. Vilya is shaking so much Grog's teeth chatter. He spins as best he can and crouches down in front of her. "Are you alright, Vily?"

Vilya lets go of his leg to throw her arms around his neck, and he catches her easily. "That was really scary."

Grog hugs her tight. "Yeah, it was. I haven't been that scared in a long time."

Vilya looks up at him, confused. "But you weren't scared. You were brave."

"Well, those two things can happen at the same time, Vily. I was brave in front of the mountain lion, because it's my job to keep you safe. But before that? I was very scared that something bad was going to happen to you."

"Oh." She chews her lip thoughtfully. "I'm glad you were scared, then, because it meant you could be brave, and I really needed you to be brave."

Grog hugs her again. "I'll always be brave for you, Vily, don't you worry. But hey." He tweaks her nose with his massive finger. "You were pretty brave, too."

Her eyes go wide. "I was?"

"You stared down a mountain lion. That's some hero stuff if I've ever saw it." She giggles, and he lifts her up to sit on one of his shoulders, and it's a short walk back to the tree where he left Vesper.

"VIL!" She scrambles onto Grog's other shoulder when he approaches and throws her arms around her cousin over his head. "I was really scared!"

"Me too," Vilya replies, "but I was also brave."

As Grog sets off back toward the cottage on the edge of the castle grounds, Vilya begins to tell Vesper all about her mountain lion encounter. Vesper listens in rapt attention, waiting for the end to say, "Whoa. You have got to tell everyone that story when we get home."

True fear strikes Grog right in the heart—he does not want to lose this job. "Uh, maybe we keep this adventure to ourselves, alright, girls?"

#critical role #critical role fic #critical role au #cr fic #cr au #vox machina #vox machina fic #vox machina au #vaxleth #vaxleth fic #vaxleth au #my fair lady #turned my water into wine #my fic

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lemon-boy-stan · 2 years

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"CLOSE CALLS"

summary: after steve almost dies, you can't sleep. seeking your best friend's comfort, you go to the room he's in, and when feelings are shared, one thing leads to another. genre: angst, fluff. warnings: season four spoilers, swearing. pairing: steve harrington x reader.

The night before going back into the Upside Down, you stayed at Nancy's house; because it was the biggest and because Holly and her parents were on a three-day trip.

There were only two guest bedrooms, so the kids had to share Mike's bedroom, Lucas and Dustin with sleeping bags and Max on the bed. Robin slept with Nancy and Eddie was the first to call dibs, sleeping in Mr. and Mrs. Wheeler's room.

So that left the two guest rooms for you and Steve; though you really wished you'd been forced to double up with him, because you had no chance falling asleep alone. Especially not after watching Steve almost die saving your life.

It was almost two o'clock now and you were still wide awake, terrified of sleeping. Not that keeping away helped. The room was dark, and everywhere you looked you kept seeing flashes of your best friend's near-death.

Steve was wrestling with five our four vines by them time you got to him, stuck to the floor. They wrapped around his body, his arms, his legs, and then around his neck. The bats flew from the sky, darting at Steve, snapping and snarling at his showing skin, ripping gashes deep into his chest. Steve moaned out in pain, blood pouring from his mouth in coughs as he tried to grip the vine, wrestling with it. Steve let out a sob, "Y/N."

You ran before the others could stop you, hacking at the vines with your knife. Each time they were cut, the vines wilted like flowers, but the meat was rough and hard. You didn't care, though. You had to save him, had to. He was your best friend. You couldn't go on without him. If he died because of you...

You jolted awake, tears in your eyes, sweat down your neck, your breaths unnaturally fast. You looked down at your blanket-covered body, when had you fallen asleep? You shook your head, gripping the doona before pulling it all the way down. You weren't going to be able to get any more sleep without waking up again; you needed a walk, a glass of water. You needed... Steve?

What the fuck? Since when did you think so much about Steve Harrington that you needed him to fall alseep? He was your best friend. And he almost died!, said the voice in your head, he almost died and so you need closure! Just go see if he's awake. Remember all those late-night talks you used to have with him in middle-school?

This is such a bad idea, you thought to yourself, before walking out and standing outside the door next to your room. The light was on inside, and you swore you heard shuffling, but you knew Steve Liked his sleep.... So you knocked softly on the door, "Stevie?" whispering the old nickname you knew he hated but you could never stop using it; you had an emotional attachment to it, it made you feel safe, and you knew he secretly liked it.

There was more shuffling, and a soft grunt before the door opened. He was using his left hand to lean against the wall, the other by his hip. "Hey," he spoke tiredly, and instantly you felt guilty.

"I'm sorry," you looked away, "I didn't know you were sleeping." Steve shook his head, "no. Well I mean I was, but this guy was itching." but also, said Steve to himself, I was awake the whole night and I kept hearing you crying. Are you okay?

But he didn't say that. Instead, he grinned and pointed to the makeshift bandage and it was only then when you realised he wasn't wearing a shirt. You didn't care, though. You were just glad he was alive. Steve frowned, "are you okay? You seem upset." and you opened your mouth before biting your lip and shaking your head. "No," your voice was only a little shaky, "I'm okay. I'm good. Besides, I don't want to trouble you about it."

Steve gave you one of his looks, "going back to your room without telling me is going to make me more troubled about it." and you hadn't noticed when you'd moved closer to him, but you dipped your head into his chest and choked softly, the words tumbling out in wet sobs. "I can't sleep and you almost died."

Steve sighed heavily, wrapping his arms around you. "I couldn't sleep either," he said after a while, "I kept thinking about what would've happened if | didn't save you." you were still crying as you sniffed into his chest, "you wouldn't have almost died," the guilt pouring out of you.

Steve shook his head, placing his lips on yours softly. He was fairly taller than you, and he always did it to calm you down. "But I didn't. I'm right here, I'm okay, baby." baby. That was a new nickname, and you didn't know what it meant, but it made you feel safe. He picked you up gently from the floor, "come on. You can sleep in here tonight. Don't cry anymore, baby. I love you." and your heart stopped. You stared at him as Steve put you back down.

His name came out in a quiet stutter, "Steve?" the tears still shining on your face, you were afriad you were going to cry more. You were sure you'd heard wrong. He was your best friend. "What did you just say?" you hated asking. Steve gave you a soft, almost sad smile," love you." your breath hitched in your throat as you forced your tears back; they fell anyway, "I love you too." he kissed the top of your head and you kissed the collar of his shirt because that was the part of him you could reach without standing on your tiptoes.

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#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fic #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington angst #steve harrington x fem!reader #fanfic #stranger things #joe keery

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intrepidacious · 10 months

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time after time: reread edition [2]

series summary: After what starts out as a fairly normal mission, you find yourself stuck in a time loop. Which would already be bad enough in itself if it didn’t also mean having to watch Bucky die over and over again.

pairing: bucky barnes x f!reader

word count: 8.2k

chapter warnings: canon-typical violence, the angst continues, another reminder to read the fic premise; a couple of guest appearances; flashbacks are my establishing shots and i’m going to make it everyone’s problem. please note that my blog is rated 18+. minors dni. ageless/empty blogs will be blocked without warning.

read the full chapter here | series masterlist | reread masterlist

welcome back everyone!! just a reminder that this is a reread of already published chapters, so if you’re new to this story, maybe don't start here. it probably won't make a lot of sense. please be aware that by clicking the read more you’re gonna see spoilers for chapters one and two 💚

twice upon a time – tl;dr:

in the flashback, set sometime during the blip, we see twelve meeting natasha and steve and offer her abilities to the avengers. after a short demonstration of her powers and (non-existant) combat abilities, she’s taken on as a new recruit. twelve accidentally breaks her own nose during training and reveals that her time powers don’t include the ability to heal herself, as she stays the same when going back in time.

in the loop, twelve panics but tries to get through the day again. she attempts to nap on the living room couch, but gets disturbed by alpine and bucky. she settles down on her bedroom floor, but gets yanked to the astral plane and berated over her creation of a time loop by stephen strange. during their third mission, bucky lightly hits his head when getting hit by the explosion and ends up getting shot again when twelve overcompensates for past mission mistakes. she tries talking to sam about the loop, but gets shut down. alpine follows her over to the other couch, making a nap once again impossible; the movie bucky turns on is eerily fitting for their situation. all the way through the chapter, bucky keeps asking her what’s wrong, but she evades his question.

behind the loop

finally!! our first chapter with flashback brackets!!! i’ve really been loving the structure of these because they allow me to give a little more context and background on the characters gradually instead of a long info dump as well as just lighten the mood a little. also, i just love writing nat and steve!! god, i miss them so much.

“And why would we want to have you?” she asked. As if she were interviewing you for a job. Which, technically speaking, she was.

there’s a lot of fun tidbits in this part of the chapter, but i love this one in particular. her nonchalance when meeting this powerful, terrified stranger is just so charming to me.

“Oh, great, am I volunteering?”

steve is … god, steve. sometimes the fact that this fic is canon-compliant (for the most part) absolutely kills me. that’s something i’ve had to wrestle with in every single flashback, and it’s just never getting easier.

back to the loop!! i didn’t talk about the mcfly thing last chapter and that’s mostly because i actually haven’t seen back to the future in many, many years. i do love them, though, and i feel like they’re something sam would enjoy, too. i constantly want to give him more to do in this story but instead i keep sending him off on cap duties. sigh. we love a responsible man.

So it appears you’ve gotten yourself stuck in some macabre version of Groundhog Day. Alright. Cool cool cool. You can work with that, probably. Maybe.

the most unsubtle nod to brooklyn nine-nine ever, but i’d completely forgotten i put it there and i love it. that makes it at least two references to this show over all of my fics now, and i’m probably forgetting something!!

“Did you just kick me?” “I wanted to see if you’re still alive.” “Horrible. I’m quitting. You can go spar with Bucky again.”

what can i say? i love their slightly different banter each and every time. it’s so funny because twelve still hesitates to call sam and bucky her friends in her inner monologue but at the same time—look at them. i love unreliable narration.

also, this is the chapter where i really start leaving gaps to fill in the rest of the day later. it’s just fun to keep some thing that are going to be repeating anyway open for now!! that brings us reveals as glorious as alpine, who couldn’t even feature in the first chapter even though i love her more than life itself. also, i have no idea where i got the headcanon that sam’s allergic to cats, but it’s simply a fact to me.

“What time is it, anyway?” “Thirteen twelve hours.” “Please stop just saying numbers when I ask you that.”

is this me making a dig at military time or the fact that it’s not used in the u.s.? who’s to say. also a fun little twelve reference before the nickname actually gets used in chapter!!

“Last dates played. Friday, July 4th 2025, 07:50 a.m. Playtime: forty-five seconds. Thursday, March 13th 2014, 02:49 a.m. Playtime: one hour, twenty-seven minutes, eighteen seconds. End of record.”

i was so proud of this little inconsequential easter egg at the time!! that date is the day of the winter soldier movie premiere, and i’m pretty sure the amount of times the song got played was the same as the amount of mcu movies that were out at the time the chapter got posted. this is an actually fun fun fact for a change <3

ooh, the astral plane and strange. i’m not gonna lie, i’m pretty sure i’m writing his character a little more sherlock holmesian than he is in canon, but sue me. both are smart assholes in their own rights, and it’s fun to have him and twelve snark at each other. they both just hate every second of being in each other’s vicinity, and i find that hilarious.

Third time’s the charm, right? About as charming as a kick to the face, you think as you find yourself delivering just that.

you know, sometimes "writing for yourself" just means line connectors that will make yourself snicker. and i think that’s beautiful.

Shouldn’t he insist on leaving?

ugh, i love this scene!! i love that no matter how hard she tries, other people (and bucky in particular) will just do things she doesn’t expect, and for reasons that are certainly what i’m telling you within the inner monologue. mhm. surely. (i know i said spoiler-free but i’m giddy. also you’re reading bucky fanfic. you must know.)

trying to tell sam about the loop and him not really taking it seriously here was certainly a choice. i’m not sure i love this when thinking about his character, but it had to happen this way for plot reasons. to be fair to him, he’s hungry and stressed, and the people around him are all weird (affectionate). give him a break fr.

“I just run cold.” “That you do.”

i’m obsessed with them, have i mentioned that? also, fun fact about spellbound, i’m never again mentioning movies i haven’t actually watched within a story again because i did end up watching it and one of the character’s initials were straight up JBB. i wish i could make this up. maybe i’m the one who’s stuck in a time loop. anyway. love alpine, love bucky knowing something’s up but not what it is.

“Don’t be dramatic. She’s made of stronger stuff than that.”

did you catch that one?

You’re made of stronger stuff than your doubts, you know that. (ch 1)

have i mention that i pay attention to a lot of little details? because yeah. i do.

the reveal that twelve stays the same during her redos is probably one of the more essential ones!! i mostly wanted to include this because i haven’t really seen any other time loop stories do it (unless i’m forgetting something) and also because, well, drama is fun.

how it’s going

alas, chapter seven isn’t quite done yet. i’ve written around 2.5k for it, i think, but i find myself once again taking unexpected detours. it’s fine, though. the bonus chapter is mostly done, and it’s actually pretty short for a change. (because spoiler alert, chapters are only gonna get longer from this point. somebody sedate me.)

as you’ve probably seen in my schedule, next week is gonna be an off week for me!!! please manifest me meeting sam wilson in the parks as i will be on holiday this time next friday. which is a much more fun thing to do than getting stuck in a time loop. in the meantime, take care of yourselves and don’t do anything dumb while i’m gone (like getting stuck in a time loop). also please leave a comment on the chapter if you enjoyed it, come scream at me in my inbox etc etc 💚

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes series #marvel fanfic #mcu fanfic #time after time

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nicegaai · 6 months

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having nor/ice thoughtssssssssssssss sad sad whiny kitty cat noises. wahhhh. im thinking about them wahhhhhhhh. WAHHH

what if i took all my small canonverse ideas and compiled them into ONESHOTSSSSS........................................ and what if they were CHRONOLOGICALLY ARRANGED ..... and showed RELATIONSHIP PROGRESSION over the course of 1000 years ...... and it wasnt that deep but i pretended it was and called it something like "i was meant to keep you warm" because i love to steal fox/i/ng lyrics. maybe even id find a way to make this a 5 times + 1 time format.

if i can wrestle my way into figuring out what goes on in nors head i could do it. ive figured that i want ice to never ever see him as a brother. my vision is that nor is iceladns hot babysitter fantasy and first crush that never goes away. he wants to marry him when he grows up but then his feelings stay that way and it never ever ever ever ever goes away and only gets worse. u understand? do u see it

and UNFORTUNATELY nor knows ic/eland likes him from the beginning. he can tell from like ice's adolescence onwards and is like yeah idk about all that...... but the attention is flattering and he loves this little guy so much and thinks its sweet. he doesnt get to visit often but ice writes him a lot because hes in love with him ykwim and nor loves him so much too (platonic) and always writes back.

and yeah they go through periods of living together for various reasons. sickness unions famines etc etc. not ever for long and nothing ever happens. if adolescent iceland pushed boundaries, nor would humor him a little with like...a kiss, bc he spoils him, but ultimately he hard-shuts it down. and ice would be traumatized forever and block the memory out / be eternally tormented at night by the time he did such and such so is the worst person alive etc

and ice begins teen life with the whole he will never love me and i am a tormented soul shtick. now he writes to him less, tries to put more distance between them... so it hurts less and all that. hes not GOOD at pretending he hates nor or whatever but its easy to lose connection when messages are rare and visits are rarer

he spends much more time at denmarks than with no.rway. he sees den.mark as a proper older brother / uncle / fatherly figure. hes closer emotionally to him and lives with him more and all that. his tutors are danish and he goes to boarding school in cop.enhagen in the 1800s. idk how this ties into the romance necessarily but its timeline relevant. whether or not denmark picks up on the crush , i dont know. i could go either way lol. also, den + nors relationship is strictly brotherly btw. ironically. because theres not enough fics where theyre platonic and i really do enjoy them that way too

nor and ice remain distant for several hundred years. its once ice gets into his pushing for independence mixed with modern technology for better communication ..... somewhere between say, the invention of the airplane and landline phones, nor and ice repair their relationship. iceland is coming into adulthood (independence) for real, and is SO mature about his international relationships. he can be so mature and normal about norway. he can sit down with him and have lunch and discuss business and norway wont talk down at him for being young at all (lie) and he'll be so chill about that and not yell at him (he only does it once) (he only has to do it once)

all this isnt to say n.orway himself didnt attempt to stay close over the years, but ic.eland wasnt reciprocating, and even if they saw each other every year at christmas (doubt) that doesnt make them really CLOSE. but i think iceland was always particularly special to him bc of how close they were as kids. and they WERE both kids back then. little icela.nd sent him letters while nor was like 14 at best. i believe in teen mom norway and his eldest sondaughter icey. at least from nors perspective. even tho hes so absent so much of the time. when he comes around he showers him in gifts as a love language even way back when

anyway, ice.land still has an obvious crush on nor and nor finds it SO cute. like he could just pinch his cheeks and coo at him for it. ice tries to keep a lid on his emotions but can only do so much. nor doesnt SAY anything to point sus behavior out. but as soon as he notices,,,, its like there was no time apart, to nor. ice is so closed off and stiff and weird around him and nor wishes he would relax so they can connect properly and he honestly CANT

the solution is to drink otgether i think. at some point. maybe not immediately but they'll get to it.

icela.nd isnt like oohg im too young to drink, i think hes just lived long enough that hes a bit Over It / doesnt want to act like an idiot / really doesnt want to act like an idiot in front of nor. but nor could peer pressure him into anything if he really tried so they finally get tipsy together and i think that goes a long way to repair their relationship.

they do this many times and as long as ice is careful to not drink a lot he'll be fine. hes gotta keep his wits about him and still be able to feel shame. one time he indulges a little hard and i think ice trauma dumps on him and they kiss to make up for the time nor pushed him away and nor didnt realize he was still hurting so much about that. nor is tipsy enough to do it (not even drunk) and afterwards he goes ohh wait i kind of enjoyed that. and do it a few more times then make out for a while and it doesnt go anywhere, they fall asleep

the next day they completely remember kissing and know the other remembers it and just mutually dont talk about it.

icelan.d is VISIBLY struggling even harder around him for at least a few days until he gets a handle on his emotions. and nor has a lot to think about. in general.

i dont know where the dna stuff comes in. im falling asleep while typeing this

but icelan.d obvioiusly is like wtf? we arent related. thats impossible. i cant even fathom this. and nor.way is like you are the closest i will ever have to family and i am your biological father and icel.and is like what the fuck ew you can say brother as much as you want but never say father again im begging you and nor is like Bet.

and then they test and they're first degree related. father or brother would be appropriate. and nor is like yeah obviously (already believed this when he kissed him) and ic.eland is like (max harlow voice) SUICIDE !! SUICIDE !!

icelan.d sits with that information for a while but his crush still doesnt go away. nor gives him space and also sits with the information. he never thought he'd end up here but he decides that hes into it. its kinda hot. I Do believe in slutty n.orway supremacy i thnk hes slept with most of europe and doesnt have a strong internal sense of familial boundaries considering he is a landmass and is like yeah id do that again we're both adults hes cute whatever

next time they see each other nor comes onto him. and ice is squeemish about it but this is also everything hes ever wanted. whats he gonna do, say no?

at this point i fell asleep but im awake again uhhhh

ic.eland gets to cope with being a creep a weirdo and getting what he wanted in the worst way possible and nor gets to torment him with the brother thing not as a kink but bcz it makes him uncomfortable and he thinks its funny.

i forgot to talk about the actual oneshot ideas that inspired this in the first place didnt i. oh well

aaaaaaaaaaaaand post

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