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mockerycrow · 8 months

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UNDER THE SURFACE (Ghost x GN!Reader)

ghost masterlist — ghost icon by @yumethefrostypanda concept post here!

authors note; this is not my best work tbh, i wish i could improve it somehow, but i’m hoping you guys will like it anyway. Pretty sure this is my longest singular post, too! 4.7k words :-)

[WARNINGS: angst, spiraling thoughts, near panic attack, hurt/comfort, inaccurate medical stuff, vague descriptions of physical violence, very brief mention of possible self harm.]

YOU WERE USED to Simon being gone for long periods of time; you have been his roommate for two years now, nearly three. You know he’s military, it’s part of the reason why you were able to score being his roommate in the first place. At first, it was a very awkward arrangement. Simon himself wasn’t a very awkward person, no—he’s actually quite charismatic in his own way, a way that you could get along with. One of the reasons why the arrangement was strange at first was because you weren’t exactly able to get a one on one tour of the flat before agreeing, but you were a bit more trusting of this mysterious man because a mutual friend—Kate—sent you his contact information, considering you were looking for a new place to live since your lease was up.

Simon’s flat was void of any personality, really. Yes, you could tell by the way he organized everything that he had been in the military, probably for quite a while—but there weren’t any photos. No gaming systems; you discovered he did have a bookcase of quite a few books, but it was covered in a layer of dust. Despite this, when examining the books he owned, you could tell they were worn down—definitely loved. It made you smile a bit, seeing the different variety of books. A bit of personality, you think. Besides his room, it was like a completely furnished, no personality flat. You weren’t allowed in his room, not unless he gave you explicit permission, which you honored his boundaries. Simon was kind enough to offer you a space in his home—but you know he was quite weary of you, which was understandable. He helped you move in and you could tell he was watching you and your body language. Searching you for danger—but he slowly warmed up to you.

Another thing that you discovered that Simon was quite emotionally.. constipated. Over the first few months, you could tell he didn’t sleep as much as he probably should. He was always awake before you, and you would always find him in the kitchen, sipping on a hot cup of tea. After a few weeks of this routine—Simon rising much earlier than you, you figured maybe he couldn’t break the military’s strict routines.. Until one night you woke up from the sound of his heavy footsteps walking down the hall. You tensed in your bed and you sat up because Simon was silent as a ghost all the time. You didn’t even know if it was him at first, so in your half-asleep panicked state, you felt for your phone and you texted Simon’s contact, asking a messily texted “is that you walking around?” You blink your sleepiness away and wipe your eye as your phone vibrates with a “yeah. sorry.”

That was the first time you got some notion that Simon was thrown off guard from something, after another week of awakening from his noises, you began to realize that he was experiencing night terrors every couple of nights. His nightmares were never a thing you two discussed, exactly.. It was more of an unspoken rule to not talk about it. You would occasionally find yourself in the kitchen around the time you calculated when Simon would wake up—and you were right nearly every time—and you just.. coincidentally made him a cup of tea. To Simon’s pleasant surprise, you managed to get his tea right every single time. You’ve had your fair share of night terrors, so you knew how it could be sometimes. You wanted to do something nice for him, and he seemed flustered every time.

It took you a while to get used to him being gone for long periods of time. Simon appreciated that you never questioned too deeply into his career, even the times he would come home sporting a new injury, you were always willing to play doctor for him. Simon saw the concern in your eyes and sometimes he would share small stories of what happened, or maybe to get you to stop thinking about his injuries, a small story about his teammates. You slowly learned their names over the course of a year and a half, and you learned Simon’s rank as well. He is a lieutenant, and there’s a man called Captain Price, another man named Sergeant Kyle Garrick, and one more man named Sergeant John MacTavish, who Simon referred to as “Johnny” fondly.

It wasn’t common that Simon talked about work, which is the reason why it took about a year and a half to even get the information you did out of him. Over the time you’ve lived with him, you had decorated the flat to feel more comfortable and home-y. Simon only had a few requests, which you honored, and one of them was no pictures of him with his face showing. You shot him a curious and questioning look, but as always—you didn’t question him, and he was very thankful. You had gotten a few indoor plants as well that didn’t need much caring for and you wanted to liven up the place, y’know? You were okay with Simon not sharing much about his past or his work, because he was willing to listen to your little rambles about your interests and work. You were a bit hesitant, but Simon was very emotive and he never seemed annoyed or brushed you off.

Despite Simon’s reluctance to share anything of his own, he always heard you out if you needed to vent about something. He made sure you knew you could talk to him, even on days where you felt like you had no one to go to. You spent an entire night with him, just talking about anything and everything. It was the first real conversation you felt like you have had with anyone in such a long time. It was also the first night Simon really saw you. He watched as your eyebrows furrowed from uncomfortableness, the vulnerability being nearly too much to handle; something he could relate to on a personal level. So when you started showing these signs, he knew exactly when to change the subject. Simon quickly realized how to read you, and he somehow knew what you needed at different moments.

Simon flies into the airport late at night with a small duffel bag, tagged as a military bag. He sends you a quick “be home soon.” text. Simon doesn’t expect you to answer due to it being around 3 in the morning, and you indeed don’t answer him. He catches a taxi to your shared flat. Simon collects his things from the taxi before paying the driver and sending them off, and Simon lets out a slow breath as he takes in the achingly familiar sight of the place he lives in. He tugs the hood that remains sitting over his head closer to his face, which is covered by a black surgical mask. His hand tightens on the straps of the duffel bag before he approaches the flat building, taking out his keys as he approaches the elevator. Once Simon reaches the third floor, he wastes no time getting to the front door, and he isn’t sure why, but his heart is pounding inside of his chest.

Simon unlocks both the top lock and the doorknob to enter the flat—something he had taught you to do every single time. He pockets his keys as he enters and Simon pauses for a moment because he can’t put his finger on it, but something feels off the second he glanced inside. His eyes trail the living room which is clean, not one thing out of place. Simon takes a deep breath and he doesn’t brush off the weird feeling, because even when there’s no evidence something happened—he’s usually right. The blanket on the couch is perfectly folded and laid over the back cushions, the mini bookcase by the TV is dusted as always, your shoes.. Are not by the front door, but a different pair are..? These either are not your shoes, or they are new. You always warned Simon about bringing people over, and you definitely would’ve told him this time. The lamp is on in the living room, but it seems the lights are out everywhere else. Simon silently goes through his routine when he gets back late at night—taking his jacket off and hanging it up, he leaves his boots by the door, and he drops his keys into the dish.

Next step to his routine is to step into the kitchen and get a cup of actually good quality tea, unlike the shit the military provides him. He fills up the electric kettle and sets a timer on it, grabbing his favorite mug and the box of his favorite tea from the cabinets. Simon glances down the dark hall—he’s seeking for a sign of life from you because you’re usually getting up around this time to greet him. No matter what, you always seem to know when he returns—yet you aren’t leaving your room. There’s no light emitting from the hall nor underneath the doors, and fuck, it’s eating at him. Something is wrong—and what the fuck is it? Simon stands there for a moment, turning his head to watch the blue light blinking on the electric kettle. He watches it blink slowly as he tries to rack his brain for what could be wrong—maybe those shoes are someone else’s, but he could just have a stern conversation with you about it later. Maybe you came back from drinking with friends—no, if that was the case, he knows for a fact your belongings would be everywhere, maybe even a spilled glass of water in the kitchen. He’s had to clean that up a couple of times.

He raises his wrist and pulls up his sleeve a bit to look at his digital watch; it’s nearly 0400 now. Simon puts his hands on the counter, leaning his body weight against it. Did something happen at work, maybe that’s why it feels off? You’ve always had a commanding presence like he has, so maybe— “Fuck.” Simon hisses quietly, hooking a finger into the strap of his black face mask and he rips it off, tossing it without care onto the counter. He leans forward and checks the kettles timer for a second, and then he’s walking towards the hall. Simon passes by his room and he walks up to yours, and he tries to turn the doorknob to peak in to check on you, but—it’s locked? Simon lets out a harsh breath before trying the door again, and yeah, it’s locked. Simon swears under his breath and he knocks on the door, his stomach twisting and turning. Something is wrong, very very wrong, very fucking wrong—

You unlock the door and you open it just enough for you to peak out, and you use your phone flashlight to shine it in Simon’s face. He squints and puts his hand up, his voice rumbling in his chest. “Hey—you locked your door.” He points out quietly, and you’re just staring at him, your eyes wide and alert. Simon’s anxiety lessens, but your reaction doesn’t make it go away. “Y’alright?” Simon drawls out, his hand on the wood panel of the door. You let out a harsh breath and you let go of your phone, letting out a quiet, “Simon..” before you suddenly pull your door completely open, and you wrap your arms around his thick torso into a hug. Simon swears his heart jumps into his throat and then into his stomach, bouncing back into his chest because you hugged him. You two were never particularly touchy like that, maybe a fleeting touch here or two, usual drunken affection from you—but you barely ever hugged him like this, even when he returned from deployments. Your touch burns hot through his clothes, and he knows you wouldn’t touch him without asking, so when you do? He wraps an arm around you, his free arm resting on your shoulder. “Hey..” Simon breathes out, lost for words.

You don’t hold on long enough for the uncomfortable worry to creep up his spine just yet. You rip yourself away from him like he burned you, his hands falling to his sides. You offer a tight, weak smile—one that you could easily play off as a sign of fatigue. Simon’s breath stutters as he watches your hands linger near your chest in a subconscious defensive gesture, your fingers closing into a fist for a moment; as if you’re uncomfortable, almost overstimulated. Simon feels the way for the light switch and he flips it on, and your room looks normal—but you look.. off. You look a bit clammy, almost like you’re sick or bouncing off the walls with anxiety. His eyes flick to your fingers and the skin besides your thumbnail and your middle finger are picked to all hell, and you just.. don’t seem right. All of these.. signs, you’re showing are actually very subtle—he just notices everything about you. Simon knows what food you favor, what your favorite color is, what social situations what you tick, what makes you mad—he knows it all. “Three months went by slow,” You murmur, trying to start a conversation. Simon’s eyes narrow at you for a moment as he watches you back up to your bed; no, you don’t turn around, you back up. You don’t turn your back to Simon at all. Fuck. He watches you lift your mattress, causing him to lift an eyebrow. “They did,” Simon confirms. “What happened while I was gone?”

This wasn’t an unusual question for Simon to ask; but it had a completely different meaning to you this time. You feel your muscles tense as you grab something from under your mattress, and you put it back down. It glints from the overhead light in your bedroom—a.. pocket knife of some sort, a switchblade perhaps. Simon’s eyes narrow at how you pocket it oh so quickly into your pocket. “Nothing much,” You reply quickly, smoothing out your shirt. “Same old same old, work has been fine, uh..” You trail off for a moment, clearing your throat. “Look, let me take a shower—I’m sure you’re itching for something to eat, huh?” Simon watches you open your drawers and pick out some pants and a shirt. The knife comes to mind—why are you taking it with you? “I can make it myself.” Simon responds, his feet planted firmly where he had been standing the whole time. You shake your head and close the drawers once you collect your clothes.

“It’s tradition, Simon. I gotta.” You offer a stronger smile as you make your way towards the door, still avoiding showing your back towards him. Simon watches as you glance at your bedroom window before exiting your room, muttering a quiet “close the door when you leave”, which Simon obeys. He shuts the door with a click, and he watches you quickly scurry down the hall towards the bathroom. “Just let me shower first.” And with that, you step into the bathroom, close the door and you lock it before Simon can interject. He stands there for a moment, stunned. His chest tightens for a moment because you just felt so far away. You’ve created such unwanted distance—even as you’re not very touchy with him, you still bother him for every detail he’s willing to give up when he returns. You are constantly making jokes, inviting him into the kitchen when you’re about to make a welcome home meal—but this time? You were hiding in your room, locking your door, bringing a knife with you—in front of him. Did you think that could slip past him? Did something happen whilst he was gone, to cause you to bring it with you? Is it for self defense against something or someone?— Is it to use on yourself?

Simon feels his stomach turn at his thoughts. He shakes his head and sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. He walks past the bathroom, his footsteps stuttering for a moment in front of the door before he presses his lips into a thin line, returning to the kitchen to make himself some tea, the electric kettle had beeped long ago.

The next late morning, not much was different. Simon only slept a few hours, three or four—as per usual, he still woke up before you. He threw on a pair of sweatpants, and a black hoodie. He made his tea, made you a cup of what you prefer to drink in the morning, and he made a light breakfast for you both. Despite being in the military for a while and relying on cooks as well as MRE’s to get through his days, Simon is a decent cook. He made himself some sausage and fried eggs, and he made a plate or a bowl of what you prefer to eat in the morning. Simon sighs for a moment as he glances at the time—around 1100, and you still haven’t emerged from your room which is odd, especially now that Simon just came back home. He takes a moment to look at his food, and he decides then and there he will drag you out if he has to. Simon scoops up his plate as well as your food, and he heads down the hall towards your room. With his hands full, Simon balances for a second as he gently kicks the door as a way to knock, and then he stands on both of his feet again. “Oi, wake up!” Simon shouts, leaning close to the door to listen for your movement.

It takes a good minute and when Simon is about to knock again; he hears your doorknob unlock and you peak out the door, your eyes wide and alert again, although it’s obvious you had just woken up. You seem to relax when your tired mind’s gears turn and you realize it’s just Simon. You open your door wider and you rub your eye, and he spots the knife in your hand, partially obscured by the door. “Mm, sorry. I overslept.” You say, your voice heavy with sleep, vibrating in your chest. Simon makes a noncommittal noise before holding out your food, which you stare at for a moment you take it, your lips twitching into a weak smile. “Thanks, Simon.” He waits a few seconds, and you nearly shut your door on him.

Thanks, Simon. That’s all??

“Can I eat in your room wit’you?” Simon gruffs out, feeling sudden determination from this weird act you have going on. You blink for a moment and then you nod. “Just give me a sec.” You murmur. You shut the door in his face and he hears you shuffling about, moving something—sounds like your mattress. Are you putting your knife away??—and then you open your door, gesturing for Simon to walk into your room. Surely you don’t think you can hide this type of thing from him of all people, right? Why are you hiding it from him?

Simon enters your room, and you close the door behind him. You never used to do that—“What happened?” Simon stares at you for an answer, watching your face contort in a bit of confusion. You don’t say anything at first, and when you were about to open your mouth, Simon speaks. “I mean this in the nicest way possible—do ya take me f’a wanker?” Your jaw drops for a moment, your eyebrows furrowing. “What? No, of course not, Simon. Nothing happened, I’m not sure why—“

“Don’t,” Simon interrupts, putting his plate of food on your dresser. “Something has happened, and you’re lyin’ to me. You’re jumpy, you’re carryin’ a blood knife around, lovie—don’t think you can get that past me—and you won’t turn your back on me.” His lips press into a line as he watches your shoulder hunch up a bit, in an all too familiar defensive, tense position. The pit in Simon’s stomach begins to grow as you avert your eyes from, too. “You are barely talkin’ when you bloody damn near talk my ear off when I come home—you said, ‘Thanks, Simon.’ Not an over the top reaction about me doing something for th’both of’us, not a invite in, and last night—you’ve been locking your door.” You put your food down near yourself, and Simon catches the way your fingers are trembling. “I.. I’m allowed to lock my door, Simon. You don’t need to question me.” You say, attempting to hold a steady voice which barely works, your voice nearly cracking on the last word. Your heart is racing out of your chest and all you want to do is bolt at the door; which Simon catches on to. You watch him as he slowly begins to step in front of the door. “You tell me everything—even how your damn showers go. Why won’t you tell me this?” He demands, and his heart is pounding against his ribcage, too.

He watches your face contort into several different emotions and feelings; panic, sadness, anger, relief—the whole nine yards. Simon walks towards you when you begin to sob, and you sit down on your bed to avoid collapsing. His chest tightens as he murmurs name, wondering if he went too far. You reach your hands for him and not for one second does Simon hesitate this time. He wraps his arms around you, sitting right next to you on your mattress, your thighs touching together. He reaches up and rubs the nape of your neck as you openly sob and shutter into the crook of his neck and in his arms. His skin burns from your heat seeping into his clothes, a lively warmth that burns so hot but he welcomes so much more than he remembers that he used to. Your tears are hot, burning his skin with every drop that slides onto his neck, but he welcomes the sensation. “It’s alright, lovie. Let it out.” Simon murmurs, one of his arms tugging your body closer to his. He holds you in almost protective stance, like someone is threatening to drag you away from his grasp. You grab at the back of his hoodie, your chest beginning to heave. “Mm, no, c’mere; look at me, yeah?” Simon beckons you, his voice smooth and soft—which is extremely rare. Simon cups your cheek and lifts your head from where it rests in the crook of his neck, his hand instantly getting covered in the wetness of your tears that are streaming down your cheeks. You inhale sharply as you try to look at Simon, your eyes unfocused and you try so hard to focus on his pretty brown eyes, but you can’t seem to get ahold of yourself. You let out a panicked sob as your hand now tug on the front of his hoodie, and his voice is so far away, but his hand is molding to the curve of your jaw, like it belongs there.

You shut your eyes for a moment and you let Simon move you around as he wants, which he ends up guiding your head to his chest, and his grip loosens some so you don’t feel trapped. It takes you a moment to catch your breath, to catch your bearings; you can hear a faint ringing sound that you didn’t notice before, but you do note it’s slowly fading away, and in fades is Simon’s voice. He’s murmuring praises—and oh, he’s laying against the headboard of your bed frame now, with you laying on his chest. You feel yourself trembling against him, and embarrassment hits you hard. You’re tense—you don’t want to talk about any of it at all, but you know Simon. He will push you until you snap, even if it’s in your best interest to tell him. You reach up and play with a hoodie string of his, listening to his soft breathing. You hesitate for a moment before your lips part. “It was a week after you left.” Simon’s heart skips a beat, which you hear—you vaguely find it amusing, but he’s silent to allow you to continue. One of his hands is on your back, his thumb moving back and forth. “I..” You swallow spit so you don’t croak, as you’re convinced you might sound pathetic. As if Simon would ever think of you that way. “I was walking home from the pub, y’know, the one only just a few blocks away? It was late at night, I think the police said it was around 2 am. I stayed until closing, I was with some of my friends, uh..” You trail off for a moment, trying to recall everything that happened. Your hand pauses, and Simon senses your state. He begins to rub your back full on, murmuring, “It’s alright. Go on, then.”

You let out a shaky breath before continuing. “I was absolutely wasted, and there was this guy—grabbed me and I tried to get out of his hold, but he ended up fucking stabbing me. Robbed me of my shit.” Your voice cracks and the silence is deafening. Simon feels his heart drop into his stomach. You got stabbed? “Fuckin’ hell.. Why didn’t you call me? Or at least let me know?” Simon’s voice treats carefully, knowing that you’re still freaking out by the way you’re incredibly tense against him. “I know how important your focus is when you’re gone,” You respond, your voice staying quiet as well. You don’t look at Simon’s face because you know that you’ll break once again. You pick at the fabric of his hoodie, seeking comfort in his warmth, despite how you usually aren’t like this with him. “I didn’t want to take your focus because I know you, Simon. You would’ve backed out of whatever you were trying to do to come and help me.” Simon presses his lips into a thin line, staying quiet because you both know that you’re correct. Simon would drop everything to come home to you, to help you. “The guy nicked my lung, was in the hospital for a while.” Simon’s hand stutters for a moment, the smooth pattern of his palm rubbing your back being interrupted from shock. “Jesus—“ Simon hisses, and he can’t help but tug you closer. “You should’ve told me anyway, lovie.”

You sniffle and you rub your face into his hoodie, a muffled noncommittal noise coming from the back of your throat. He doesn’t say anything further, nor do you. Simon lays there with you on top of him, one of his hands caressing your back, the other wrapped around your body, sometimes coming up to rub the back of your neck. You don’t mention the way he doesn’t seem to tell you to move, and he doesn’t mention how touchy you’re being. Simon doesn’t want this moment to end—one where you’re vulnerable and trusting with him, one where you’re alive and well. He can’t help but wonder if he ever made you feel like you couldn’t tell him something? Simon feels simmering, muffled anger in his stomach because you didn’t want to interrupt his work for being stabbed, nicking a vital organ no less—he makes a mental note to sit you down and make you promise to call him if an issue or an injury like that ever arises again. He closes his eyes for a moment, trying to push away what would happen if you didn’t do that—if that guy were to come back to try to finish the job and Simon wasn’t here, would you call him? Would you pick up your phone and dial his number? Would you text him? What if you got hurt again—would you call him?—Or would the hospital? He always imagined you’d be getting the call of his death, and not the other way around. Simon swears under his breath for a moment and opens his eyes; he doesn’t want to think about that anymore. He wants to stay in this moment with you—both himself and you alive. He glances down, your tear stained cheeks slowly drying, your eyelids closed. His fingers slide from the nape of your neck to the side, and he presses his fingers against your pulse.

Being here with you—he wants you to trust him, too; like he trusts you. That’s all he wants.

tag: @zzzennin

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ampresandian · 1 month

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Okay so season 1 was definitely Percy's story like between the flashbacks and his development over the quest The Lightning Thief is Percy's Story. The whole series is Percy's story but the way they produced the first season of the show is especially Percy's, and I need them to continue to develop this in the rest of the seasons.

Season 2, Sea of Monsters, should definitely be Annabeth's. Percy (and the readers) get to know her better--she opens up to him about her past, not just introducing him to the world they share (the Olympians) but to Her World and How it Got to Be that Way. We see more of how who Percy is impacts her (esp with Tyson), and she takes on a lot of responsibility for saving their quest. Unlike the Arch or Crusty, Annabeth is the one that saves them from Circe and takes on Polyphemus one on one.

Season 3 I think is Thalia's. It's the only chance we really have, as readers, to get to know her--we're thrown into her relationship with Percy at the beginning of the book, after our only introduction to her being her saying her name at the end of som, but we travel with her on this quest, and I think flashbacks, etc. in this season should be about her. It's the best way to let the audience get to know her, and I think we need to get to know her to understand her choice at the end (and to be excited when we see her again later). We need that her sudden disappearance at the end, when she leaves without saying goodbye and just as suddenly as she appeared she's gone, to hurt and to feel wrong and making her the Character is the way to do that imo.

Botl in season 4 I think is tricky at first glance (esp since we've given Annabeth som already) but tbh it needs to be Grover's. Flashbacks can be about his time in schools as a protector, and his time searching for Pan. Grover's development is kind of sudden in this story, but I think showing him when he's younger and like as he's been off Doing Things it would be more dramatic and honestly Grover is a fantastic character that Rick seems to forget about/ignore a lot and he should make it up by showing us what his life is like when he's not with Percy (which is increasingly often) and letting us see his independence develop to the point that he's ready to take on his new mantle and be a leader.

Season 5 is obviously Luke's. Even the book is written like that. We need flashbacks to his life and childhood just as much as Percy does, and they need to humanize him and let us empathize with who he was and how he got to who he is by the end of the story before he dies. I think they should give us flashbacks to his quest here, too, and probably the conversation he clearly has with Hermes before he goes on it (he's obviously bitter when he talks about it in tlt, and he had to get his magic shoes, and I think they need to utilize having that conversation in person so we can see how Hermes tries and fails to relate to him and also to make LMM make very very sad eyes as Luke leaves because he knows his son is at the end of his time as a hero). They can milk this for all the comparisons between Luke and Percy. I think flashbacks to his claiming, and not having to move cabins but probably like getting a bed or something now that he's here Forever, and when he becomes the Cabin Counselor. How/when he meets up with Thalia. Him seeking out fights as they make their way to camp. The battles he fights on his quest, facing monsters he's working with now, getting the scar.

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l5byrinth · 3 months

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safe and sound

“you'll be alright, no one can hurt you now.”

pairing: finnick odair x reader

summary: in which finnick shows up at your doorstep and vents his heart out.

warnings/contains: fluff, idk tbh lmk if i should add more

requested

a/n: i combined this with another request bc they were quite similar but tysm for the requests anons 🫶🏼 btw i didn’t really know how to end it im so sorryyy it’s bad. actually this entire one shot is bad 😭

As the sun set, you watched it from behind glass, captivated by the colours adorning the sky. It was something you rarely did, mostly because you had an insanely busy schedule as a former victor who lived in the capitol.

A knock on your door, however, ruined the one moment you had on your own. With a sigh, you walked towards the door, wondering who was visiting you at this hour. When you opened, you were surprised when you were met with Finnick. Yes, the Finnick Odair. The victor from district four who you had grown a fond friendship with. And had on whom you had a secret little crush on. “Hi, finn?” You questioned, rather than said, wondering why he was at your doorstep out of the blue.

Your relationship with Finnick was… difficult. The two of you had shared a kiss and admitted your feelings to each other before, but nothing really came from it. Mostly because you were both scared what would happen when the friendship you shared would blossom into something more. Besides, you hadn’t talked to him for quite some time.

And yet here he was standing silently in front of you. There was something about him that just didn’t sit right with you. His usual cocky and confident attitude, was replaced with an entirely different one. “Well, come in.” The door creaked when you opened it further and you cringed at the sound of it. He walked towards your living space, as if he had already been here countless of times, which he had of course.

It was like his second home before it got complicated between the two of you.

You closed the door behind you, before following him, a million questions filling your head. He didn’t utter a word, staring at the same sunset you had been watching only a minute ago. “Finnick, is everything alright?”

And it was as if that was his tipping point, because he suddenly stumbled into your arms. You were taken aback, that’s for sure, but you hugged him tight nevertheless. You cooed sweet nothings as tears left his eyes like a waterfall. While soothingly rubbing his back, you let him cry his eyes out, not caring that your sweater was now soaking wet from his tears.

“Finn, whatever it is, just let it out.” You said softly, waiting for him to have cried it all out. The man holding onto you for dear life felt ashamed for breaking down like this. But after what he had been through that night, he just couldn’t bottle it up anymore like he usually did. And when he realised it, the only person who he would want by his side was you.

“Sorry.” Finnick mumbled with his head rested on your shoulder. And if you weren’t so close to him, you probably wouldn’t have heard it. He pulled away, one of his hands lingering on your waist, as he wiped the tears on his cheeks with the other. He had been looking down the entire time, but when he finally looked up at you, you could see the pain and fatigue in his eyes. “Oh, finnick.” You put your hand on his cheek and he leaned into the comforting touch.

After he had calmed down, the two of you sat down on your couch. The same couch you were sat at when you finally admitted your feelings. But none of that was important at the moment. Finnick told you about everything he had been going through since he became a victor at the age of fourteen. The man in front of you told things you could never imagine anyone to go through. Your heart broke for Finnick the more he explained and you wished you had noticed this all sooner.

You drew him in for another hug, telling him you would do anything for him. You assured him, “We will get through this together and make sure nothing happens to you anymore. I’m here for you, Finn. And whatever you need, you can ask me.” Finnick nodded knowingly, wiping away the tears that had fallen down your face because of his story, “I know, love. You always are.”

“I know it’s hard, but whatever happens, you’re safe and sound. With me.” You grabbed ahold of his hands and pecked his knuckles lovingly, his heart skipping a beat. A small grateful smile made its way onto his face as he drew you in closer, wrapping his arms around you while you rested your head on his chest. It was as if a weight had fallen off of his shoulder and he let out a contented sigh.

He indeed felt safe and sound. With you.

#finnick odair #fluff #finnick odair x reader #finnick x reader #the hunger games #thg fanfiction #thg finnick #finnick odair x you #finnick oneshot #finnick x y/n #finnick fluff #finnick imagine #hunger games finnick

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moondirti · 1 year

Text

all the ways i can have you

pairing: Din Djarin x f!Reader rating: explicit (18+ mdni) word count: 1.3k summary: he's hooked on making you feel good. warnings: naked female clothed male, edging, overstimulation, fingering, pussy slapping, squirting, unprotected p-in-v, blowjobs, hickeys, biting, cunnilingus, rimming, face sitting, this is so filthy don't look at me. notes: here's a little thirst i wrote in my down time. It's not affiliated with The Remedy in any way; i just really needed to get all my thoughts about our favourite beskar man out tbh because the slow burn with those two is killing me

The Mandalorian is absolutely filthy.

It’s not something you expect. He’s awkward at the best of times – pointedly avoiding any possibility of social interaction by the drawing of his blaster or an elongated silence. Honestly, for the first few months that you’d known him, you actually thought he hated you. Sure, you were never the unfortunate soul skewered onto his spear, nor had he ever threatened to throw you into his carbonite freezer, but he always had a handy excuse at the ready when you tried to make conversation. It was torture until you learnt not to take it personally; you figured he was probably used to being alone, and that’s no fault of yours. His lack of social skills could not be your burden to bear. So, eventually, when he gave nothing but a grunt to your occasional bizarre musing, you’d simply shrug it off and go back to playing with the kid.

In hindsight, maybe you should have picked at the source of his reticence. It certainly wouldn’t have taken you as long to get to this point if you had. Because now, it occurs to you that he’d probably been so tense from withholding the desires that the two of you, in fact, shared.

It seems so obvious once the dam had lifted, but keen deduction has never been your strong suit.

Back to the point, though. Mando is beyond borderline obscene once you manage to tease it out of him. Truly, he’d have never instigated things had you not been so uninhibited. But when his resolve shatters, it’s like his mind goes into overdrive of all the things he’d do to you. You actually think that, if given the opportunity, he’d lay you out for days on end to enact every fantasy he has. Because life has its way of intruding, though, he settles for the in-betweens of your day to day, taking you in the small gaps where it can just be the two of you.

You think he’s wild when he edges you the first time, his gloved hand palming your front while you stand in nothing but your towel. This is on you, he said, you little tease. It’s deliciously painful; his fingers find your clit with practised ease and he presses down on it, rubbing you in small, tight circles. With the way his hardened body presses into you from behind, clad fully in his armour – a stark contrast to your exposed frame – and his rough praise meets your ear, you almost cum from the miniature ministration alone. But he recognises what your quickening pants mean; he sees how your back arches into him like you’re trying to match the overwhelming pleasure his hands administer, and he pulls away at the last second, fingers returning only to give a sharp smack to your cunt. And of course it echoes – you’re soaked, for Maker’s sake – which only serves to make him repeat the action again and again until you’ve significantly darkened in shade.

By the time you’re on the brink of collapse, Mando has you sitting between his legs, back to his chest, one leg hooked over a strong arm while you sob your pleas into the empty space of the hull. He fingers you fast and rough, delighting in your high-pitched wails and whiney begs, and forces your first orgasm out of you with an expert quirk of his fingers. It’s torturous relief, like white hot embers dancing upon frozen skin, and your vision blurs as you gush over his vambrace. But he doesn’t let up; he continues drawing them from your sopping core, turning in a complete 180 to overstimulate you until you literally have nothing else to give.

He manages to serve you in a way no one ever has before – you're a complete, quivering mess by the end – so, you assume that’s the extent of it. But time with Mando proved that was the least he can come up with.

He revels in spreading your legs whenever he gets the chance, taking his time to pull your glistening lips apart and absorb the sight of your clenching hole. He says it amazes him – how such a tight thing is able to stretch over his length – then promptly digs his cock from within the confines of his pants. You find yourself agreeing with the wonder of how it fits; it’s by far the biggest you’ve taken – thick with throbbing veins that weave up to an angry, leaking tip – but his thumbs always dance in reassuring circles along your inner thighs when he presses it against you. And when he pushes in, you forget all about your worries, because the stretch is divine. Mando absolutely fills you up to the brink, the ridges of him catching along your inner walls, and he pounds into you with reckless abandon, like a man starved. It’s simultaneously too much and not enough as he reaches those hidden parts of you – that spongy tissue at the front, the wall of your cervix – and the sensation becomes absolutely addictive. You go cock-dumb without fail, drooling, eyes rolling to the back of your head, and you think he might disappear someplace else as well, with the way his words pour unfiltered. Good girl. Beautiful. So fucking tight. Cum for me, I want to feel you. He turns reverent when he gets you this way, awkward fronts be damned.

Funnily enough, he’s too impatient for you to go down on him. In the rare moments he forfeits, he has to hold himself back from pulling you up so he can just fuck you already. It’s not that you aren’t good at it, either – no, your tongue is enough to drive the strongest of men wild – but he just… doesn’t put as much priority in his pleasure as yours. It’s something different with you entirely. He doesn’t see sex as a means to relieve his mounting tensions, it’s not the same exchange he’s found in all those brothels. With you, Mando is overcome with the unshakeable urge to wring out every pleasure imaginable. He’s obsessed with the plump of your lips and the folds of your flesh. He dreams of every single part of you everywhere – under his hands, between his legs, in his mouth.

So, he takes off his helmet to put his lips on yours. And you, who’s naive enough to again suppose that the last, world-ending orgasm was the scope of what he could do, experience it as he transforms into something else entirely.

His kisses leave no area untouched. They find your neck, tightening as he sucks purple hickeys onto your skin, then pepper down to your chest, where he pecks your pebbled nipples and bites the swollen tissue underneath. Mando leaves a trail of spit and welts in his venture, and you moan under the calamity, combing through his soft curls with shaky fingers. And when he finds you soaked through your panties, your nails dig into his scalp, your tummy flushing with slight embarrassment. The pain sparks something in him, it seems, because he pushes your thighs up with a renewed vigour so he can press his nose onto your clothed cunt. My favourite, he groans between long inhales, before he rips off the cotton barrier that separates his tongue from your clit.

Mando eats you out like he’d rather be doing nothing else. He doesn’t. It’s his favourite pastime, solely for the way you mewl and squirm underneath him. He licks, sucks, drinks from you, uncovering every patch of skin with his warm tongue, which flicks over your bud until you cry and drives into you to collect the subsequent nectar. He spreads you on the floor like a meal, dominating in every way. He kneels before you on a chair, open as you rub his stubble into you. He even insists that you sit on his face: ‘I need to taste you more than I do air.’ You have no reason to doubt it, though. He fucks into his fist when you grind down on his chin, his free hand directing you forward until he can lap at your asshole as well. Mando wants you surging, spilling onto him; crying out his name, his real name, which he whispers to you as you come down from his onslaught.

Din, he beams. To you, mesh’la, it’s Din.

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mushroomwarning · 22 days

Text

A sorta long post on why I believe Lightbulb SHOULDN’T win season 2 and instead, the other three should be the candidates for winners

Before I start this off, PLEASE DONT BE MEAN TO ME WAUGHHH I’m just respectfully sharing my thoughts as someone who loves writing and I don’t even hate Lightbulb. I just don’t think she would make a good winner to make the story feel satisfied! So this isn’t LB neg, okay? Also keep in mind, I haven’t seen S2 in a hot minute so maybe I might get SOME things wrong but I’ll try my best to go on with my side.

Lightbulb

To start off, I’ll say it, Lightbulb as the possible winner of II S2 will be the most predictable and bland of the four possible contenders. Out of the four, she’s the one who’s managed to get the most out of the show, new friends, enjoyable experiences, a new pet, etc. She also has gotten a lot of screen time ( I think? ) and is a fan favorite for her wackiness n such. Yeah, she’s a little sad her friends are gone but she could always go and be with them if she just quit.

Her friends are waiting for her, honestly I’d say that’s a prize enough For her story, being able to go back and be with her friends, enjoying her time with them without worrying about the game anymore. She’s shown to be distraught with TT leaves, just go and be with your friends to stop being in this game that’s made people way more miserable. She’s got the winner attitude but it’s just. Boring. Predictable. Something that would not be that fun by a story standpoint tbh, at least in my opinion

The other three, I feel would make great winners in their own ways.

Baseball

I’ll start with Baseball, definitely an underdog and a guy nobody expects to win. That’s why he would be a wild card as a possible winner! It would shatter people’s expectations completely, but here’s the twist…If Baseball were to win, it could possible tie back into his story with Nickel. with Baseball probably thinking Nickel would pressure him to share the prize with him and his thoughts of how much of a doormat he’s been for others, Baseball could make his own decision without others influencing him, giving up the prize and giving it to the second place winner, which could be Suitcase or Knife it doesn’t matter.

THAT WOULD BE COOL WOULDN’T IT? Something that ties together Baseballs story thematically eh eh?

Knife

Anyways, Now onto Knife. He’s different from the other three in that, while he hasn’t lost anything like Suitcase or Baseball ( if I remember correctly), unless you count his dignity, he hasn’t gained anything either, unlike Lightbulb. He’s very much a pretty intelligent and strategical person, very much someone who could easily win if it played his cards correctly. There’s also a bit of a lesson he learns from S1 to S2, due to Trophy.

He learns to become less rash, mellowing out after Trophy gave him a bit of a reality check to the way he acts, even if the way he showed him wasn’t the best in the slightest, Knife learns to control his temper, mellowing out and instead uses his smarts to advance more in the game without relying on others and even gives advice to people Like Suitcase, Pickle and Microphone as he goes on.

He learns to be a better person and would honestly make a good contender for first, to reward him for his growth and change, or maybe second place if you want to show his new found humbleness in regards to his emotions

Suitcase

As for suitcase, while she’s sort of predictable as well, she isn’t as predictable as Lightbulb due to the events that she’s gone through and honestly is sort of the most deserving thematically to win out of everyone. Unlike Lightbulb, she’s lost a lot, not really gaining many friends excluding Balloon and gained mental health issues due to the treatment Nickel was giving her. This game has not treated her well in the slightest and she gains growth as time goes on, learning to stand up for herself and speak on her own.

She very much deserves the prize but at the same time, I don’t think she would care if she won or lost. She’s lost a lot and learned from her experiences in the game

Conclusion!

BUT YES. these are my reasons for why Lightbulb should not win. The others have very nice thematic reasons for why they could win but Lightbulb basically gained way WAYY more then they have out of the experience

But yeah, my ranking would go

Lightbulb- not a winner, Fourth place

Baseball - First place ( gives up prize) or Third

Knife - First or Second place

Suitcase - First or Second place too

#sorry if the grammar or spelling is off #object show community #osc #inanimate insanity #ii lightbulb #ii baseball #ii suitcase #ii knife #please be nice and respectful on your opinions..#Martin nonsense

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uyuartik · 4 months

Text

promises, promises

Aaron Hotchner x f!reader

warnings:nothing actually, just fluff, aaron is barely there tbh, but it makes sense no worries, suggestive themes

A/N: first time posting on tumblr and first time writing about criminal minds! i made this in a hurry, and it's been a while since i used this format, so feel free to correct any mistakes you see. likes and reblogs are very much encouraged, i can't wait to hear your comments. hope you like it!

hope you like it, @eveningserenityyy

crossposted on ao3

When you both returned home from a hard case, all you ever wanted was him.

You didn’t care how late it was, or how exhausted you two were. Unfortunately, like the last couple of days didn't consume your every waking hour, you weren't totally free once it was over. The flight was long enough to leave your hands itching for a touch, your legs bounced with the urge to carry you to his side. Your eyes were fixated on him, ogling his broad shoulders and strong arms that were pronounced even under his suit. Not to mention the fact that with the effect he had on you would remain unsolved for some time, you couldn't just use this time to take a nap. You'd surely dream, or talk during your sleep, and reveal what should remain private. He was kind enough to show his interest by placing a hand on your thigh during the car ride, though that somehow made things worse as it stayed in the same spot, leaving you to only imagine all the things you’d do once you got home.

But, being the Aaron Hotchner he is, with all his previous cognizance and secret smiles, now he didn’t seem to share your amusement. Not immediately.

Because when he closed the door behind his back (carrying both of your small suitcases, gentlemen as ever), you were quick to cage him against the same door, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him with the accumulated lust of the previous week. He didn’t reject the initiation, kissing you back with probably half of your enthusiasm, but it was enough to make you moan, and cause him to smile, which you felt more than actually see. One hand was wrapped around your waist, the other in the process of depositing the luggages safely against the wall, but then the now free hand didn’t find its way to you, so you pressed your bodies, reaching in for another kiss. It was in this moment that he held your chin, and said the words that crushed your spirit.

“Take care of yourself, and then I’ll come and take care of you.”

You huffed and whined, grinding on him harder and attempting to convince him with your lips, all fallen to deaf ears as he peppered a kiss to your wrist, and unhooked himself from it, leaving you to stand there. Seeing that you were actually stunned, he called your name with a look that emphasized his words. There was a certain authority to his voice, but the type solely reserved for the ones he loves, a warning that comes from wishing the best for you. Now, it was also laden with a subtle neediness. If you were a little less tired, you'd have been more adamantine in your venture, and you'd succeed, an undeniable probability. Who was he to resist, if you fell to your knees here-

So, with an exaggerated sigh, you stripped out of your jacket, purposely throwing it to the nearest surface. Aaron laughed(you can swear it echoed in the house, the warmth of it bouncing off of the walls and finding its way inside your belly), taking in your attitude as you carried yourself to the kitchen for a handful of snacks and a big glass of water. The next stop was the bathroom, where you brushed your teeth under the tired gaze of your reflection. What was the point of having a shower if you had to take another in a few hours?

Okay, that was a little gross, but considering the somnolescent effects of the hot water, your battle on the verge of being lost and that irritated you beyond reason, to say the least.

After all that (which took no more than twenty minutes thanks to your work habits, yet it felt so much longer), you opted for his favorite t-shirt and a pair of panties. The t-shirt was another attempt to get him mad, because you knew he'd choose this one in this particular night, and now he couldn't. However, you quickly realised it was not the case, as he finally made his way to bed. You didn't open your eyes, just feeling the dip of the mattress as he settled behind you, pulling you towards his very naked chest. The newly changed sheets (subtle bastard, he was) crinkled under your movement, a sensation you ravished, especially since he was there too.

“You’re too late.” You slurred, too tired even to react when his wet hair rubbed against your skin. His scent was intoxicating, and it was all you could breathe while he buried himself into your neck, starting his sweet assault. His fingers slithered up your leg, creating a tingly route. You squirmed under all the affection he showed, for it was a lot for your poor nerves to handle, and somehow, found yourself pressed to him even closer. Your breathing picked up, and this time, he let himself mirror your reaction. He groaned, his hand now just below your breasts, under his t-shirt. Damn, you were cute with your eyes closed and brows scrunched, weakly holding onto his arm yet strong enough to wriggle your hips against him.

“You’ll see I am a man of my word.”

#criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fluff #hotchner x reader

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serenhoshi · 1 year

Text

𝐒𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚 𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

Feeling angsty here ;)

For context: You and your s/o have the biggest fight you’ve ever had since you know each other (even before getting married). You’re tired and want to go out to clear up your mind, taking off your ring in the process. He sees it and...reactions below :))

Seungcheol:

He’d get more angry than anything. Visibly upset as well, he’d point at the ring while staring straight into your soul with a callous tone.

“What do you think you’re doing right now? Why did you take it off?? I’m not done right now, you’re not leaving. Put it back on.”

Jeonghan:

As angry as Seungcheol, clearly. But doesn’t show it as much. His stare would be neutral, so you’d have no idea of what hes thinking about. Maybe a bit whinier than Seungcheol? But overall he’d say similar things.

“What are you doing this? Huh? Take it back, you have to wear it.”

Joshua:

You taking off your ring would make all his anger vanish INSTANTLY. He’d stare in shock and not say anything for a few seconds, his face visibly paler than before. Then he’d get close to you, his head moving from left to right as a no motion, taking the ring and puttin it back on you. His voice shakes a bit, and is way softer.

“Don’t do this, please. Let’s talk through this calmly, I’m sorry.”

Junhui:

It would take him some time to realize what you had done, you were already putting your shoes on when he woke up from his trance. He’d block the door with his body, ring in hand. He wouldn’t know what to say yet, it would take some time for him to arrange his thoughts correctly. But he knew that he wouldn’t let you leave, not like that.

“You forgot this, please stay..”

Hoshi:

It’s kinda hard to guess how he’d react tbh. On one hand he could get angrier, screaming at you and pursuing you to put the ring back on your finger himself. On the other hand he’d be like Joshua, cooling down instantly, and begging you to stay with him to think about this together. You chose which one seems the best to you.

“Please please please wait- don’t go, i swear i’ll do better!”

Wonwoo:

Probably the first one to leave the room, he’d lock himself up in your shared bedroom, and would most likely cry because he simply doesn’t know how to handle things. After some time he’d go back to the living room, and would see your ring, set on the table. He’d automatically call you, fidgeting the ring in his hand, completely stressed out.

“Y/n? Where are you?? Should I come pick you up? Please come back, we should try to talk about it, please.”

Woozi:

He would act as if he didn’t care, but deep inside hes so scared. He’d let you leave so you get some time to cool down, but when he saw you take off your ring he automatically felt tears blur his vision. You get no news from him while you’re out, he’d lock himself in his studio, occupying his mind while producing music. You see each other once he gets back home from the studio.

“Hey,, I think we should talk, don’t you?”

Mingyu:

Wouldn’t let you take the damn ring off. He’d rush over to you and grab your hands to provide you from it. He’ll look at your straight in the eyes -and that’s when you notice that he started crying- and apologize, so SO many times. His voice is shaky and he caresses the back of your hands while begging for you to stay with him.

“I am so, so sorry for my behavior, please forgive me, i’m so sorry, i love you so much, please stay, i’m sorry.”

The8:

He’d react a bit like Woozi; he’d give you time to cool down, for him as well. It’s very rare that you get into bit arguments, you normally just talk things out but here it heated up quickly. In contrary to Woozi, he’d text you, maybe after an hour or so, to know where you are and if you’re safe. Once you get back home you actually have a calm talk as you did in the past.

"I’m glad you came back, I was really worried”

Dokyeom:

Dokyeomie would cry his eyes out. This poor man was conflicted between anger, sadness, and fear. He wanted to prevent you from leaving, so bad, but his ego and bitter anger wanted to make him ignore you, and give you the silent treatment. Out of all the members he’d be the hardest one to make up with, he thinks ignoring you and sulking is the better solution because time will calm everything down. You’re the one who will come up to him to talk, but if you don’t have your ring on then he refuses to talk.

Vernon:

He automatically takes your hands in his to prevent you from taking your ring off, looking at you straight in the eyes. Any trace of anger has disappeared, and he looks sincere, calm, almost soothing. He’ll bring you to the sofa so you both sit down and let the tension disappear. He won’t force you to talk, you both can stay silent, as long as you’re both here and you cool down.

“I’m sorry for everything. Let’s just calm down and not do anything we might regret, okay?”

Seungkwan:

He’d continue his angry speech even when you took your ring off, setting it on the kitchen counter. He’d take the ring and follow you closely, putting himself between you and the door. He’d stare at you, his eyes dark and visibly fuming with rage. He’d take you hand and forcebly put the ring back on your finger. Then he’d talk, his voice a bit calmer, but still showing irritation.

“Don’t take it off. You annoy me very much right now but not enough to divorce. I still love you a lot.”

Dino:

Would stop talking and his face would get pale, worry taking place on his face. He’d run to you at the entrance of the appartment, and trap you against him. His arms placed around your waist and his face in the crook of your neck. He’d cry a bit, and whisper apologies.

“I’m sorry, please don’t leave me, i love you, please stay”

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charmedreincarnation · 8 months

Note

I’m kind of in a similar situation to your college indecisiveness post bc I want to shift but never have the time cuz all this studying. I’m really hating life rn. I’ve tried shifting a few times and managed to detach my awareness from this reality for a few minutes at a time, so i know what works for me, but I never have time to do it. I feel kind of drained that I could be achieving so much but I’m stuck not even having the time cuz I’m not smart enough to get done with all this HW fast enough

TLDR how do I be cool like you and too smart for school to be a big concern? Do I just say f**k it and do a shifting attempt when I’m supposed to be studying?

This was such a sweet ask 😭😭💖 I'm overwhelmed by the sweetness of your words, and I assure you, I'm far from being as cool as you think. In fact, I found myself facing the very same dilemma in the past! Now, I'm not sure if you're looking for some wisdom from Loa or valuable studying tips, so ill share a little bit of both? Also college-related questions/asks have been pouring in lately, so I've decided to address them all right here. I should probably just make it a post but I’ll use this ask as a reference.

Pre law perspective:

So my senior year, was when I really started my journey. It was during this time that I learned about shifting and manifesting (kind of law of attraction) so I naturally attempted everyday and had my focus to that. However, I basically spiraled into burnout and indifference towards school. Tbh It's still a mystery to me how I managed to do fine in school when I basically stopped attending classes mentally and barely did my work.

I've always had ADHD, anxiety, and procrastination issues throughout my high school years, But senior year took it to a whole new level. The boredom and disconnection from my studies were unbearable. I went through the motions, completing my homework, but for classes I didn't enjoy, I mindlessly attended without caring or understanding the material. It was a year filled with academic mediocrity, and certain subjects like AP Calculus and AP Biology, which I didn't even need for my future plans, were absolute torture.

And at the time I didn’t even fully understand what shifting was, But I clung to the notion that school no longer mattered in the grand scheme of things. Looking back, I realize it was a detrimental mentality to have for my well being. If there's one piece of advice I can offer, it's this - find a balance. Avoid burning yourself out completely, but don't neglect your mental well-being either. You are still here, whether you're shifting or not, whether you’re god or not, and whether you're actively manifesting or not. Diving deeper into a negative mental well will not benefit you in any way. Trust me, I learned this the hard way.

As my burnout intensified, I reached a point where I no longer wanted to be alive in this boring ass reality. It became so severe that I almost didn't apply to college. My entire focus was consumed by shifting, and I simply didn't care about anything else. It was my friends who came to my rescue, pushing me to apply and offering unwavering support. Without their guidance and nurturing, I honestly don't know where I would be today.

Eventually, I grew tired of being tired. I began diving into my subliminal journey, creating playlists that combined affirmations for school,success, and luck. I learned the importance of dividing my time wisely. During the second semester, I continued this approach, focusing on school-related practices during the day and dedicating my evenings to shifting attempts.

Affirmations and scripting became the root of my routine too. Miraculously, my grades improved, even when I skipped classes for an entire month or neglected to read the lectures.

I was able to graduate high school with honors, which in itself proves that success or whatever isn’t even just about being naturally "good at school." I worked smarter, not harder and knowing about manifesting really helped with that!

So I really advice you to find a balance in your journey. Don't pour all your energy into just school or just manifesting. Embrace the plethora of easy methods available - scripting, subliminals, binaural beats - and integrate them into your study routine. Make it work in your favor. Treat shifting like a cherished hobby, something that complements your academic pursuits rather than overshadowing them.

Also, set realistic standards for yourself. In high school, I used to obsess over achieving straight A's, disregarding any grade below perfection. Looking back, I realize how misplaced my priorities were. As long as you maintain a mix of A's, B's, and even a few C's, you'll be absolutely fine. Set a goal of achieving a GPA of 3.0 or whatever scale your institution uses, and celebrate every success along the way.

Loa perspective

Ok, now let's talk about the power of the Law of Assumption!

Now that I'm in a place where I give only about 20% of my time and effort to school and still do very well, I can help and reflect on my journey properly. Back in high school, like said I struggled with anxiety and ADHD, and I thought these challenges would hold me back.

Test-taking, deadlines, remembering information it all seemed overwhelming. But you know what helped me? Subliminals.

Listening to subliminals for intelligence and confidence made a significant difference in my life. They boosted my abilities and gave me the belief that I could excel academically. And that belief was everything.

As you probably know the Law of Assumption states that whatever we expect and assume to be true will become our reality. So, I decided to apply this principle to my studies. I assumed that I was capable of achieving great grades with ease. I assumed that school life would be manageable, and I would continuously improve my skills throughout the semester. I always visualized seeing As, revised my past grades, teacher giving me the grade I know I deserve no matter what.

And guess what? It worked! My mindset shifted towards greater productivity, and I started using my time more efficiently. As a result, my grades improved, and I had more time to focus on the things I genuinely enjoyed. It was a game-changer, and it accounted for about 70% of my success. Just imagine that - simply switching my mindset and accepting the positive results from my previous subliminal experiences.

I understand that college can be more stressful and demanding than high school. But it's still the same principle at play. You don't have to drastically change your study habits if you don't want to. Instead, use general resources during the day to aid your studying. And while you're at it, listen to subliminals that align with your goals. Instead of imagining and affirming to yourself that you're a failure and worrying about all the things that could go wrong, shift your focus. Imagine the grade you want, affirm and visualize that no matter what happens on your test, you'll still pass the class with flying colors. Remember, it's just one test, one assignment, and there are so many more opportunities ahead.

General school tips

* Stop checking your grades every day. Seriously, it's only stressing you out. Grades can fluctuate randomly, especially in college (and honestly, even in high school). Instead of obsessing over the numbers, focus on staying on top of your assignments. Keep up with your work, put in your best effort, and trust that alone will reflect in your grades.

* Say no to all-nighters. Trust me, reading the same material for 12 hours straight won't magically make you understand it. If something isn't clicking, it's probably an internal issue. There's no need to spend an entire night alone trying to grasp a single concept. Look for alternative resources like recap lessons on YouTube or seek help from a tutor or classmate. Remember, it's okay to acknowledge what doesn't come naturally to you and instead focus on your strengths.

* Realistically, doing your homework and attending class means you're probably not failing. Even if you're not getting the grade you want, it doesn't mean you're headed for failure. Those big tests that carry a significant weight in your grade may impact your GPA, but they don't define the trajectory of your life. Take a moment to reflect on all the times you thought a single grade would ruin everything, yet here you are, still alive and thriving. You've been through challenges before, and you're stronger than you think. Breathe, remind yourself that you're not alone in these thoughts and stresses, and keep pushing forward.

* Make friends and join class group chats. Trust me, these connections are gold. Joining group chats on platforms like GroupMe or Snapchat allows you to ask questions, collaborate on study guides, and realize that you're not alone in this journey. Even if they're not your closest friends, having a support system within your classes can make all the difference.

* Use EFT tapping for anxiety, especially before tests. Emotional Freedom Technique (EFT) tapping is not only useful for Law purposes, but it can also work wonders for managing anxiety. Check out my pinned guide on how to use EFT tapping. It has personally helped me immensely, and I hope it does the same for you.

* Work smarter, not harder. The truth is, those who seem to breeze through school while partying every night still manage to graduate and pass just like everyone else. The key is finding shortcuts, utilizing the vast resources available on the internet, and working smarter, not harder. Embrace technology, explore online study tools, and leverage the power of the internet as your greatest friend in this journey.

Here are some free recourses:

Math and Science

1. MathMagic Lite: This app lets you write any mathematical expressions and various scientific symbols easily

2. Equatio: A powerful equation editor that makes it easy to create digital, accessible maths

3. Microsoft Mathematics: Can be used to write mathematical expressions, solve equations, and plot graphs

4. Desmos Scientific Calculator & Graphing Calculator: Utility apps for students and teachers for calculations and graph plotting

5. WolframAlpha: A computational search engine that can solve a wide variety of problems, especially useful for math and science

Article/Video Summarization

6. Smmry: A website that summarizes articles for you

7. TLDR This: A browser extension for quick article summarization

8. Inshorts: An app providing news in 60 words or less

9. Listenable: Converts articles into short audio files

Note-Taking

10. Evernote: A note-taking app where you can jot down thoughts, save things you find online, and even scan physical documents with your phone's camera

11. Microsoft OneNote: Allows for free-form information gathering and multi-user collaboration

12. Notion: An all-in-one workspace where you can write, plan, collaborate, and get organized

Concept Explanation

13. Khan Academy: Offers practice exercises, instructional videos, and a personalized learning dashboard that empower learners to study at their own pace in and outside of the classroom

14. Coursera: Provides universal access to the world’s best education, partnering with top universities and organizations to offer courses online

15. Complexly: A YouTube channel that produces a variety of educational content, including the series Crash Course which covers many different subjects in depth

16. citation machine: you never have to make source citations by yourself. This gives your both in test and citations for your essays and research.

Lastly I’m gonna put all the free resources most colleges offer for free!

Academic Resources

* Online Study Platforms: Websites such as Khan Academy, Coursera, and edX offer free or low-cost courses on a variety of subjects that can supplement your coursework.

* Academic Advising Centers: Most colleges have an academic advising center where students can get guidance on course selection, degree requirements, and academic planning.

* Writing Centers: Writing centers provide assistance with writing assignments, including proofreading, editing, and helping with citations.

* Library Research Databases: Your college library likely subscribes to a number of research databases (like JSTOR, EBSCO, and ProQuest) that can provide access to academic journals, books, and other resources.

2. Career Resources

* Career Centers: These centers offer career counseling, resume reviews, interview preparation, and job search assistance.

* Internship and Co-op Programs: Many colleges have programs that help students find internships or co-op positions in their field of interest.

* LinkedIn Learning: This platform offers courses on a variety of career-related topics, including networking, resume writing, and job interviewing.

3. Mental Health and Wellness Resources

* Counseling Centers: Most colleges offer free or low-cost mental health services to students, including individual therapy, group sessions, and workshops.

* Fitness Centers: Regular exercise is important for both physical and mental health. Most colleges have fitness centers that offer a variety of workout options.

* Mindfulness and Meditation Apps: Apps like Headspace and Calm offer guided meditations that can help reduce stress and improve mental health.

4. Financial Aid Resources

* Financial Aid Office: Your college's financial aid office can provide information on scholarships, grants, work-study opportunities, and student loans.

* FAFSA: The Free Application for Federal Student Aid (FAFSA) is the key to accessing federal financial aid, including grants, work-https://www.tumblr.com/charmedreincarnation/712878654521262080/everything-eft-tapping?source=share funds, and loans.

* Scholarship Search Engines: Websites like Fastweb and Scholarships.com can help you find scholarships that you may be eligible for.

Other questions I got

Q: How did you manifest graduating early?

A: Graduating early was always a desire deep within me. I didn't realize it was on track to manifest until I had a meeting with my advisor. Interestingly, when I found out it was happening, I wasn't as ecstatic as I thought I would be. It made me realize that desires can change as we grow and evolve. So, if something you once desired doesn't bring you the same joy anymore, it's perfectly okay. Life is all about evolving and embracing new desires.

Q: What affirmations do you use?

A: Since I had a multitude of desires in various aspects of my life, I found it tiring to have a separate affirmation for each one. So, I opted for general affirmations that encompassed all areas of my life. For example, I would affirm statements like "I am the luckiest person alive," "Everything works out my way," and "I always get my desires." These affirmations can be applied to all aspects of life, including school. The key is to find affirmations that resonate with you and create a positive mindset.

Q: How do you manage the law/shifting and school?

A: As I mentioned earlier, integration is the key! You don't have to view manifestation or shifting as something separate from your school life. Instead, incorporate these practices seamlessly into your daily routine. The goal is to make it a part of your lifestyle without feeling like it's an extra burden or sacrifice. For example, if a certain method, like wbtb lucid dreaming, is disrupting your sleep schedule, consider switching to other methods like subliminals or reality checks. You can still set intentions before going to bed, which will be effective without compromising your sleep. Find what works best for you and strike a balance between school, manifestation, and your mental health

Q: What to do if affirmations don’t work:

A:maybe you don’t think with words. I’m more of a visual person and will always believe and like images more than words. I would just imagine my grades always being an A. No matter what, no matter if I failed a test or forgot to submit a homework even if I failed everything I still got an A! If you don’t like to visualize then change your wording to how you naturally speak. Maybe you don’t even like affirmations, it’s really different for everyone.

Q:I don’t want to go to this college but I still have to apply, is that affecting living in the end:

A: nope I don’t think taking action or not taking action affects anything If you’re living in the end. Just because you apply doesn’t mean you’ll get in simply because you took the action. Do what you have to do it doesn’t matter if you’re living your 3D life but know imagination is your true reality. If you’re a billionaire and sleep in a homeless shelter that doesn’t take away from the fact you’re a billionaire. Who knows why you’re at a homeless shelter and who knows why you’re applying for college. It doesn’t dictate anything.

Q:I needed to get into the void before college but now I’m here without my dream life and I hate it. What do I do:

A: well it’s happened so take a deep breath. You can still master the void, in fact you already have you’re just being silly and want a funny humbling story. There is no better time than now to be delulu. When you’re trying to escape something and it passes accept it and make it your bitch tbh. honestly keeping busy definitely helped me in my journey anyways, but I did provide tips above so you have free time because you shouldn’t just be immersed in school. For example when I was poor, it was because I needed a humbling back story because no one likes people born into wealth. I’m assuming you still want to be in college, and yea, it’s just cool to have started from the bottom before you become that It girl. That’s your choice and your truth but now you’re done with being humble so go tap into the void.

Q: what’s your perspective on manifesting a perfect life. like nothing bad ever happens but also having a good life with just minor challenges (nothing too big) and I don’t wanna normalize suffering bc who wants to suffer?

A: ok this had a school ask but that was just the gist of it. anyways not that my opinion matters first and foremost. But I think that’s great. Who wants to suffer… exactly. You know I like being human, but I did not like my human experience before Loa. I do like challenges, I like growth, I like not being perfect, and I like being happy and getting what I want too! you can still have all those human aspects and manifest everything you desire. Mary Sues do don’t exist because humanity exists. Don’t worry about it. Your life won’t feel stagnant or unreal or something, I promise

Ok sorry this came out longer than I expected but I had a lot to say. I hope that answers all the asks I’ve been getting ! You all got this, college, your manifesting journey, your anxiety, all of it. All of your dreams & desires are within your reach (right in front of you !!!) so go for it and still live your best life <3!

#law of assumption #manifesation #manifesting #my asks #void state #shiftblr #reality shifting #school #hot girl scholar 👩‍🏫#college

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 9 days

Note

SHANE MY BELOVED anyways gonna request based on an oc that i made/an ai chatbot chat that i did recently. selectively mute reader with shane, and how their relationship evolves? strangers to lovers probs. hcs or oneshot/drabble :3 -galaxy

WAHOOO

I got 5 hearts with him as we speak so this is perfect timing <3

......

Settling into Stardew Valley was certainly going to be a challenge, especially with the new life you wanted to build here..and of course that entails meeting new people.

For most of your life, you've been selectively mute, only ever using your voice if you absolutely have to.

You never used it much at your previous office job, but it was still quite soulless and didn't make you feel good.

Even so, Lewis doesn't think you should stay a stranger and insists you introduce yourself to folks in Pelican Town.

You couldn't ignore the letters stuffed into your mailbox forever..so you finally headed into town.

While some villagers regarded you as "quiet", many of them chalked it up to you being new and welcomed you anyways.

Although Shane is indifferent and annoyed--as he is to most strangers.

You accidentally bumped into him, and he thinks you're rude for not saying "sorry".

Your brain sorta panics as you sign the words...but from the way he stares at you, you realize he doesn't understand what you're saying.

By the time you get out your notepad, he's long gone, mumbling about being late to his shift.

Since then, you try being polite and wave to him anytime you see him in the street or at the saloon..but he just wonders why you're bothering him.

One thing he kept noticing at the bar was that you always gave your order to Gus on your notepad, and he starts thinking there is a reason you can't talk and you weren't just being a dick specifically to him that day.

Still, he doesn't ask you. You're probably gonna stop trying to befriend him sooner or later. So why should he care?

One day, you approach Shane while he's working at JojaMart and asked him where a certain food ingredient was, pointing to your shopping list..and you see that irritable look in his eye again.

He had customers mixing up things on the shelves and snapping at him for things outside his control--and you caught him on a rather bad day.

He says nothing and just points further down the isle, but you just smile and mouth "thank you", signing the words before continuing on.

Poor guy goes red, convinced you blew a kiss at him just now...and it's all he could think about for the rest of his shift.

The very next day, you show up at Marnie's place with a fresh pizza, asking if Shane was home.

He gets flustered as HELL when he realizes you were at the mart buying ingredients to make one of his favorite foods...and he acted like a total jackass.

You left a note inside the container, which basically tells him you're selectively mute and realized your farm was just down the road from his aunt's ranch.

After reading it, he awkwardly apologizes and asks for a fresh start, to which you just smile and nod.

Jas, at this point, can see he's got a crush on you.

After that was cleared up, you two become friends and hangout together at the saloon often or share a beer on the dock.

You don't talk, but tbh Shane appreciates the silence between you two. He didn't have to force conversation, and neither did you.

Although that also enables him to vent to you about how downtrodden and repetitive his life feels, with you simply listening and accompanying him home.

It doesn't change the fact he felt like a burden to everyone, and one night you found him on the cliffside, his face covered in mud and tears, ready to give up on the world.

In his drunken haze, he forgot you were mute and wants you to tell him why he shouldn't do it..

"No wait..I..forgot you can't-"

"Shane..I'm here for you." Your voice comes out low, hoarse, and a little shaky, but he stopped sobbing the moment he heard it..and he stares up at you in shock.

"S-So..you do speak.." He mumbles. "You sound....like--like an angel...fuck..maybe they do exist. So you'll...be here for me no matter what? Even if I did something stupid...?"

You simply nod, and that makes him change his mind.

He just can't believe that out of all the people in this town, you chose to open up to him--some sad sack of shit who was about to jump off the cliff--and decide he should be the one to hear your voice first.

You actually wanted him around. And you never hated him despite all the times he was rude to you..

After he nearly vomits all over your shoes, you take him to the hospital, knowing he needed Harvey's intervention, and since then you've been supportive of his recovery journey.

He only remembers bits and pieces from that night..although the one thing he couldn't forget was hearing your voice.

It was probably so difficult for you to find it again, and he appreciates you talking him down, even if you had to close up and go totally silent for the next few days or so.

If you ever go into why you became selectively mute, Shane will do his absolute best to understand (and maybe get a little overprotective in the process if someone makes fun of you for it).

But if not, he'll still defend you regardless.

You teach him a few general phrases in sign language, which he tries to grasp and eventually gets the hang of.

At some point down the line..he asks you out on a festival date after much pressure from Jas and Marnie, and you were so excited you nearly yelled out "YES"-

But instead managed to nod happily, taking his hand and dragging him towards the celebration without a second thought.

Soon that little date turns into a genuine relationship, with Shane eventually moving onto your farm to help you care for the crops and animals, switching to alternatives to beer and promising to cut back on the hours he spends at the saloon.

Some days you'll be away mining, fishing, slaying monsters, or helping the Junimos rebuild the community center, but other times you'll stay inside and just cuddle with him, your pet, and the chickens.

He was muddling over why you chose him (a lot of self doubt still festers inside of him), and you spoke to him again--this time to his sober-self.

That was "because I love you".

And yes...he did cry.

#clanask #galaxy anon #stardew valley x reader #sdv x reader #sdv shane #stardew valley shane #sdv shane x reader #stardew valley shane x reader #shane x reader #headcanons #selectively mute reader #hurt/comfort #tw suicide mention

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hyomaluvr · 1 year

Text

Bachira Meguru - NSFW Alphabet

cw // mentions of public sex, D could be construed as cnc if you squint, mention of boobs and panties but could be applied to any gender tbh, not proofread

Aftercare: Bachira can barely stay awake after sex, but that’s only because he’s blown his load in you like six or seven times. He’s greedy, taking whatever he wants. He’ll go for a shower or bath with you afterwards, but he’s probably gonna be rawing you again.

Body parts: His favorite part of himself isn’t something he’s really ever considered. When you ask, he tilts his head in confusion as though you’ve asked something in a different language. After some though, he says his lips, since he gets to put them on yours. His favorite part of yours though? He doesn’t hesitate. He probably literally cheers “Boobies!” before washi-washi-ing you from the back self indulgently.

Cum: He wants it in you. He really hates condoms, but he’ll use them if you insist. That said, he’ll make his own personal art project out of you, drooling over how his cum paints your face, boobs, tummy, thighs, ass, you name it. He also really like the feeling of your cum flowing around his cock.

Dirty secret: Hear me out— panty sniffer. Absolutely the type of guy to jerk it using your dirty panties around his dick with another pair over his nose. His eyes are rolling back as he takes deep huffs, spurred by his lust. Although he does feel a little bad…but, should he? You’re his, right?

Experience: Bachira is a virgin. No friends means no partners means no sex. He doesn’t even know how to instigate it right. It actually takes a few rejections for him to understand the correct cues for it. He’ll pounce on you and ask for it, taking you totally by surprise since he’s never even mentioned it before! But he’ll keep waiting, and he’s not a predator, so no worries.

Favorite position: Anything where he can see how your tits bounce when his dick plunges into you. He’s a simple man, really.

Goofy: It’s Bachira, let’s be for real right now. He’s here to have fun and show his love to you! It’s always a good time, an enjoyable experience in which he wants you to feel comfortable.

Hair: Bachira is definitely not well groomed. I’m not sure he’s ever shaved in his life honestly. It adds to the Bachira experience.

Intimacy: Despite his innate perversion, there are sometimes when his lips are pressed softly against yours with the mood not escalating like it normally would when sex is instigated. This kind of sex makes his heart race. It’s rare, but he looks at you without his signature smile, pupils dilated and breath shaky. He can barely take his lips off of you during it, and it’s pretty much exclusively missionary with his fingers laced in yours. Soft moans of “You’re the only person I ever want to see me like this” and “I can never see anyone but you”. He’s never been dishonest with his feelings, after all.

Jack off: He never takes his time. He’s always fisting his cock quickly, jerking off his frustration, pain, and stress. It works like a charm, especially after he meets you. Unfortunately when he’s away from you for a while, he can’t even get it up. He’s down horrendous.

Kink: Biting. Hickies. Public sex. Stoner sex. BDSM (either position).

Location: He loves to do it in the bath or shower, or right by the pitch. Places where he typically shares with others essentially.

Motivation: A lot of the time he doesn’t get horny for specific reasons with you. Sometimes it’s just like a switch is flipped and he’s made up his mind— he wants you and he will have you. However a sure fire way to get him on the rocks is with any kind of skinship that puts any of your pretty parts near his own or somewhere he can feel.

No: He doesn’t have many turn offs, open to anything. One thing he absolutely hates the thought of though is being cucked. He can’t let you go. He won’t let you go. Why would you need anyone but him??? Why would you even think about anyone but him!? The thought makes his stomach hurt.

Oral: Bachira is good with his tongue. He’s wild with it, ravenous, and he’ll put it in whatever hole you want. Be warned though, this is for his pleasure. He’s not going to stop until he’s gotten his fix (which if you’re sitting on his face can go up to an hour or so). Bachira’s not that good at receiving head though, even though it’s his favorite. Again, he’s hardly experienced, he makes mistakes. He’s over eager, bucking his hips too far into your throat sometimes, but there’s always a flash of worry in his eyes before he calms down as you keep going with assurance that it’s fine. It’s just so hard to control himself sometimes.

Pace: Once again, so eager and excited during sex. He’s trying to not be too quick, but ultimately after a while you end up getting used to him speeding up when he gets close. At the beginning, he even slips out sometimes because he’s so excited.

Quickie: He hates quickies because he can’t keep using your holes, but he loves them because they’re so fun! He gets a rush from the worry of getting caught somewhere, or being late.

Risk: Experimental, open to anything, willing to get caught as long as they don’t get a good look at you. You’re his.

Stamina: He can go for a long time. Probably literally all night if you’d let him. How long does he last though? That’s…a little more embarrassing for him. Especially at the beginning. He initially starts cumming in you a bunch of times because by the time you cum once he’s came three times. He’s really, truly embarrassed and cringing then, but he’s so cute that you can’t help but coo at him and baby him about it.

Toys: Bachira definitely has butt plugs, just to try it since he spent a lot of time lonely. He doesn’t like it much since it just sits there, but he does like putting them in you. He thinks you’re so cute when he see how full you are from all angles! Would be more than open to getting pegged, and he likes rope.

Unfair: He’ll give you what you want, but he’s a huge tease about it. He’ll make you embarrass yourself by articulating your perverted desires, or make a deal with you for it.

Volume: He’s such a slut. He’ll moan, whimper, whine at max volume whenever he feels the need. It just feels so good and he can’t help himself! Again, embarrassing for him at first since he’s trying to be sexy! Even the most unabashed people get embarrassed when they’ve never done something like this before sometimes, but now he likes how it riles you up.

Wild Card: Bachira has a fat ass!!!!! Definitely muscle toned, but cute, perky, and somewhere he practically mews with pleasure when it’s squeezed. Only because it surprises him. Also, he doesn’t care about “sub or dom”, so he’ll do whatever is fun and feels good in the moment, so expect lap dances and (his) ass eating.

X-ray: Smaller arms and pecs, thick, muscular thighs. Although all of him is muscular. 5 and a half inch cock, slight curve to the right, medium thickness. He’s very average, but on Bachira it all just looks pretty.

Yearning: He wants to go constantly. It’s only when he’s zeroed in on soccer or practicing he’ll reject it, but he’ll repay you for it later. Don’t misunderstand though, his sex drive comes entirely from his love and obsession with you.

Zzz: He falls asleep pretty much instantly afterwards. He worked hard after all! He probably gave you 13 orgasms, and you gave him like 20!! He’s a snuggler though, and canonically a thumb sucker. He’s so cute when he snuggles between your your chest, although there have been times when he’s half awake and starts sucking on your nipples after a while instead of his thumb just to fluster you.

#blue lock #bllk #bachira meguru #bachira #blue lock smut #my work #alphabet

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yougavemeyourheartyouknow · 6 months

Text

On thin ice (Hockey player! Miguel O’Hara x Figure skater! Fem! Reader)

Y’all… this word count… I’m was almost gonna slept it up but decided not too. Anyways hehe. Also the last chapter is gonna be posted on Halloween at the witching hour in PST, cause Halloween chapter! so I’m excited about that lol. The usual, not proofread, Miguel might be ooc.

(Y/F/N)- Your full name.

Not much Miguel and reader interaction but what is there is worth it. Me attempting to write about sports stuff I don’t know anything about even though I promise I did attempt research. Cursing (I think tbh I can’t even remember but probably), fluff (if you squint?????), I’m giving up on these tags lmao.

Word count: 2.8k

Series Masterlist

Chapter 14: Ever thought of callin’ when you’ve had a few? ‘Cause I always do.

—

It wasn’t entirely surprising how quickly you got everyone in your group to agree to go to the game later, although you were expecting Logan to be against the idea since he hates the sport, but apparently his want to see you and Miguel get together was stronger than his hate for hockey since he immediately agreed.

You were currently in your 4-way shared Airbnb getting ready for the hockey game, having already been kicked out of the dorms by the university despite there being a game tonight, which didn’t make sense in your opinion, but that’s neither here nor there. Usually you would usually travel back home during the breaks, but due to you and Logan participating in regionals this year, you had to stay in Nueva York, you had both decided to stay in one rather than a regular hotel since it would be cheaper, Kate and Xavier tagged along for emotional support.

“I’ve never actually attended a hockey game, what do you wear? Probably a crew neck or a hoodie right? It’s still an ice rink. Maybe I should wear school merch, ugh but the only school related jacket I have is our skating team varsity jackets.” Kate, Logan and Xavier just stayed silent as they watched you rambled on, their faces full of amusement (and from Logan just the slightest bit of annoyance) as they watched you freak out , glancing at you every once and a while as you kept pacing between the hallway bathroom and your room as you attempted to get ready for the game despite it not starting for another 3 and a half hours.

“You should have asked Miguel for one of his spare jerseys.” Logan teased as he wandered towards your doorframe and leaned against it as he watched you dump your suitcase over your bed. How the hell do you not have a red or blue jacket??

“Shut up Logan.”

“You’re overthinking this, you know.”

“What? No I’m not.” Oh, you totally overthinking this.

“He’s got you whipped.” Logan snickered, shaking his head as he crossed his arms over his chest. You in response threw a pillow in his direction, which he hit to dodge.

“You’re not funny Logan. Do you have a school sweatshirt I can borrow?” You said, releasing a deep exhale through your nose as you turn to look at him.

“I think I think I have a spear.” He replied as he picked up the pillow off the floor and tossed it on your bed. “I just don’t want Miguel trying to beat me up over you wearing my jacket.” He added as he walked over to where you were standing, stopping once he was right next to you.

“He wouldn’t, I promise. I won’t let him.”

—

“This is actually kinda fun to watch.” Xavier said to Kate, as she glanced over to you before back at the rink. The spiders were currently in the lead 2 to 1 and it was about to be the end of the first period, a little less than 6 minutes before the timer reaches zero.

“It’s totally scary though.” Kate said as she took a sip of her soda, you nodding in agreement.

“So glad I went into figure skating…” Logan muttered as his eyes widened, an almost horrified look spreading on his face, but he couldn’t look away. You would have giggled at his reaction if you didn’t feel the same way. Both sports are dangerous just in their own ways.

You turned your head as you saw Peter pass the punk to Miguel, who you believed was playing center, (you watched one of those 10 minute crash course videos on how hockey works before you came to the show because whether if you were aware of it or not, Logan was right about you being whipped already) as he was making his way closer to the goal, when one of the players on the opposite team came crashing into him back first. The other player’s elbow “accidentally” hit Miguel’s face, and Miguel was knocked back, landing against the wall as the player on the opposite side took the puck.

“What the fuck-.” You muttered under your breath in shock, cringing slightly as you watched Miguel’s hand going up to cover his mouth, his face wincing in pain, your hands going up to mirror his actions. As soon as Miguel’s hand made contact with his mouth, a timeout was called. The spider's couch went up to Miguel first, talked to him for a bit before walking over to where the referee was. You couldn’t hear anything from either interaction, so you just watched silently, ignoring your friends glances towards you, keeping your eyes on Miguel, worried written on your face. Miguel’s eyes shift around the arena, before finding yours, you can tell he’s trying not to cringe as much as soon as your eyes meet, as if he didn’t want you to see him in pain.

Once you two were looking at each other, you took your hand off your face and mouthed an “are you okay?” to which Miguel took his hand off his mouth and gave you a thumbs up and a smile, but his smile didn’t free you of your worries, in fact, it made it worse, before you could stop your body, you let out a gasp as your eyes widened. His mouth was bleeding, and it was bleeding a lot.

His expression seemed to falter a bit upon seeing your reaction, to what though you couldn’t really tell. Panic? Worry? You don’t know. Other then the initial pain he felt when the elbow made contact with his face, Miguel wasn’t really worried about his injury despite the metallic taste filling his mouth, he didn’t feel anything break or a tooth fall out, sure he’ll probably be sore from a few hours and will have to clean his mouth guard, maybe think about getting a cage instead (this wasn’t the first time someone has elbowed him in the face during a game) but he knows it’s a part of the sport, that’s what he signed up for when he started playing. So why was it that seeing the concern on your face made his chest tighten with guilt? Miguel didn’t have another time to dwell on his thoughts before his coach sent him to the locker room to clean up.

—

Miguel felt like he was going to go insane if he didn’t get the taste of blood out of his mouth. He’s already gone through 4 sticks of gum and had to refill his water bottle twice in an attempt to flesh out the coppery taste from his senses. He let out a frustrated huff of annoyance as he spat out another piece of gum and brought his water up to his mouth and took a big swig, gargling it a bit before spitting it out in a sink and finally started to make his way out, his bag with his gear slung over his shoulder as he exited the locker room. They had won the game luckily, but Miguel wasn’t as happy as he wanted to be about the victory, maybe it was because he was still mad about getting elbowed in the mouth, maybe it was because he had to be benched due to him getting injured so early in the game or maybe it’s because out of all the games he played this season, of course he got injured at the one you were attending.

Most of the team has gone home already, some stragglers were left, two of those being Miguel and Peter, and Miguel wouldn’t be surprised if you had left already, he probably would have if he was in your shoes. Maybe you got the ick from him now after watching him get hit in the face, and he would be back in square one all over again, the thought was more painful then the hit to his mouth. His mind was running a mile a minute as we made his way down the hall and towards the main exit to head to his car where Peter was most likely already waiting for him. As he walked, he was trying to keep his thoughts on his sore jaw and about the game, trying to to not think about how you saw him get hit, or how your face twisted in disgust at the sight of his bloody smile after you asked him if he alright, the embarrassment and angry he felt when after he came back from the locker room Coach Turner benched him, how-

Is that you talking to Peter in the parking lot???

“I should turn around and wait till she leaves…” he told himself under his breath, but his feet continued to move him closer to where both of you stood near Miguel’s car. Once he was a big closer Peter noticed him first, since your back was facing him, talking to him about something he couldn’t quite pick up on.

“Ah speak of the devil.” Peter said with a smirk, one you would haven’t thought much of, but Miguel knew that there was a smug undertone to it, as if he was right about something. “Sup Mig, we were just talking about you.” He continued as you turned to face him, your eyes widened for a split second as they scanned Miguel’s face, as if checking for more injuries, before you took a step closer to him, you hand instantly going to rest gently on his arm.

“Hey! Oh my god, are you okay? That hit looked brutal, god that jerk.” Miguel didn’t know if it was the way your tone and face went from concerned to annoyed as you spoke, or the way you hand went traveled from his arm to his chin, lightly gripping it and moving his face from side to side gently, mirroring his actions earlier in the day when he did the same to you after he bumped into you at lunch, but god did you make his heart burst with warmth.

“I’m okay ice princess, calm down.” Miguel assured you with a small smile, a chuckle escaping his swollen lips as he took your hand and brought it down away from his face, giving it a light squeeze as he did so. Neither of you have realized that Peter had slipped away into Miguel's car.

“Okay, okay good.” You sighed and nodded, glad to know he was relatively okay.

“Didn’t mean to get you all worried Princesa.”

You scoff, taking your hand away from him and lightly hit his chest.

“God, you always gonna say something stupid, huh?” You rolled your eyes, but your tone couldn’t hide the smile forming on your face.

“Of course I do, ice princess, how else am I supposed to annoy you?”

—

To say you were nervous was a complete understatement, you have never been more terrified for a skating performance in your life. It was your first time performing for regionals after all.

You had barely gotten a wink of sleep, a few hours at most, but you mostly spent the night twisting and turning, glancing at your phone to look at the time, before letting out a frustrated groan and pulling your sheets up a bit higher in an attempt to get yourself to finally sleep. But your attempts were mostly futile, finally throwing in the towel around 5:00 in the morning, deciding it would be better to spend your time Getting ready for the day you’ve been anticipating rather then attempting to get another hour of sleep you know you won’t get.

By the time the clock had struck 5:30, you'd already packed your equipment in your bag, and had loaded it in Logan’s car, not surprised when you saw his back already packed, before making your way to the kitchen to make yourself breakfast, something light but enough to keep you full till lunch.

“You couldn’t sleep either?” Logan asked when you saw him enter the kitchen, two Starbucks cups hand, passing you one as he took a sip of his, his voice low as to not wake up Kate or Xavier. You let out a hum and nodded your head as you took the one he handed you and took a sip, the caffeine making you wince as you feel it try to wake your body up a bit.

“We should hit the road soon, coach Kavinsky said we should be at the rink by 6 so we can make it in time for check in and make it for our off ice warm up.” You said as you stood up from your seat, putting your dishes in the sink.

—

“God, I didn't know our short program would take so long…” Logan huffed as you both threw your figure skating jackets over your performance outfits for the first half of the competition, as you both rushed down the arenas long hallway being careful to avoid running into some of the other pairs as you made your way back to the locker rooms to change.

“Did you see Kate and her boyfriend?”

“No. Did you see Miguel and his friend?”

“No. I didn’t get enough time to look around the seats to find them.”

“Same.”

You both dropped the conversation once you both reached your respective locker rooms. Quickly changing out of the first dress and slipped the second one on, it was a full black dress with long mesh sleeves and smoke black mesh on your sides, being sure to be careful with the gemstones that were placed around the waistline and the chest, and the black feathers that accented the back in order to look like a pair of small wings as you slip your jacket back on, before going to change your lip color and eye makeup.

You were stressing hard, hell, you were surprised you were able to apply your eyeliner with a steady hand. You didn’t need to rush, since you and Logan weren’t going back on the ice for a while since they still had a few short programs to go through before you were supposed to go back on, but you tended to rush when you were nervous. Once you finished fixing your makeup you went to touch up your hair, placing two feathered wing hair clips that pinned flat against your head to match the ones of your costume, one of each side of your head. As you were placing some more bobby pins in your hair to help keep the small wings in place you heard your phone ding next to where you had placed it next to all your supplies. Once placing the last bobby pin in your hair, you grabbed your phone to open it and look at the notification.

Hey, you did amazing, can’t wait to watch your other dance. -unknown number

Fuck how your heart skipped a beat.

You didn’t even need to ask who it was to know it was Miguel, although you never gave him your phone number, so you were a bit curious as to who he had asked for it, but for now you’d have to push that to the back of your mind and focus at the more important upcoming task at hand.

—

“Next skaters going for the free skate, (Y/F/N) and Logan Martinez.”

A pause as the two go into their starting positions before Swan Lake by Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky begins to fill the arena, the two skaters cladded in black, the gemstones on their costumes, despite their small size, shimmered brightly from the lights. No sounds other than the music filling the rink and the occasional swish from the skates slashing the ice.

You might be representing the black swan but you’ve never looked more like an angel in Miguel’s eyes. Despite the tragic atmosphere that the performance was depicting, you looked absolutely heavenly to him, he shouldn’t be surprised, this is what you love to do, what you wanted to do for a living. But he’s never got the chance, no starch that, the privilege of watching you do a routine in all of your full glory. He’s caught glimpses of you and Logan doing both routines during practices, but that was different, you wouldn’t portraying the emotions like you were right now, you wouldn’t wear the performance outfit like you were now, and the energy you were putting into the routine was far more grand than when you would practice back on the uni’s arena. He could already see himself watching from home as you and Logan were representing the country in the Olympics, but then again, maybe it was just his heart talking,being overzealous. He didn’t know if it was the performance or just your presence that he couldn’t tear his gaze from, but he wasn’t even sure if he wanted to look away in the first place.

You and Logan were selected to advance to sectionals.

—

Taglist: @tayleighuh @cowboylikeevie @coralineyouareinterribledanger @jukioku @loser-alert @miguel-ohara-eater @serpentstarr @littlexscarletxwitch @darksidescorner @sukioyakio @minimari415

#miguel o hara fanfic #miguel o'hara x reader #on thin ice fanfic #miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 x reader #astv miguel #astv spiderman 2099 #miguel o’hara au #figure skating au #hockey au #miguel spiderverse #spiderman 2099 fanfic #spiderman 2099

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aralezinspace · 2 months

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Summer Knight Part 1

When Crown Prince Morpheus is summoned to his father's court for the summer, he expects it to be just as tedious and aggravating as any other season spent in the Dreaming's capitol. What he doesn't expect is an attempted kidnapping, a successful kidnapping, uncovering designs on the Dreaming's throne, and a handsome esquire he really isn't supposed to fall in love with. How can he not, when Hob Gadling sees him for who he is, and not just his station? How can he not, when Hob is willing to burn down the world for him? Or: Prince!Morpheus/Commoner!Hob Gadling medieval/fantasy AU

~~Masterlist~~

After three months (probably more tbh) here it is! My contribution to the Centennial Husbands Big Bang.

This would not have been possible without the support of the entire Sadman server, for which I am endlessly (haha) thankful. @delta-pavonis and @signiorbenedickofpadua, I wouldn’t have been able to finish this without your eyes and encouragement. Thank you for letting me scream about these boys at/with you, for ideas when I got stuck, for helping me tease out the snags. Y’all are fantastic. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

BUT WAIT THERE’S MORE

This beautiful incredible art by @wolf-and-raven-dreaming / @ambarden I’m just blown away. Thank you so much for bringing such a beautiful moment to life, especially one that I didn’t get to give as much detail in this fic. I’m obsessed with it, prob gonna make it my phone background 💖

If this story inspires you to create something of your own, please share with me so I can keysmash and gush over what you make!

Divider by @cafekitsune

Prologue

Once, in a time out of thought and memory, there was a realm called the Dreaming- so named because a place so magical and splendid could only possibly exist in one’s most vivid imaginings. The weather was always as it should or needed to be, the land lush and bountiful, even in the harshest climates. The people of the land were, on the whole, prosperous and contented. The Dreaming was not without its troubles and hardships and tragedies- no land is, no matter how prosperous- and for some, life was rather hard, but never unbearable.

Like any kingdom in a faerie story, the Dreaming was ruled by a king, a queen, and their children. This story, however, only concerns one, the third son, Prince Morpheus Aeterna. Morpheus and his six siblings each ruled a shire within the Dreaming, with the capital city of Istoria on the eastern coast, the lands of the Dreaming appearing to fan out from the city like rays of the rising sun.

Morpheus was lord of one of the Dreaming’s most important and vital border shires- after all, that’s what you did with a third child, a second son, with a great aptitude for ruling. One who also happened to be heir to the throne, the next in line to be called Dream King. His shire was called Fiddler’s Green- the land was varied, a little corner of everything: snow capped mountains, lush fields of vibrant grass and wildflowers, bountiful forests, a beach of black sand bordering a navy inland sea.

Morpheus’ kingdom shared a border with the realm of Fawney Rigg, a land of dense thickets and haunting mists and old, angry trees. It was ruled by King Roderick Burgess, a ruthless and bitter old man who should have had many happy years yet before him. But, his greed and jealousy were near endless; he had already conquered several other realms by war, subterfuge, or a combination of both. In the twilight of his life, he set his sights on the Dreaming, and it is here our story begins.

“My lord?”

Morpheus was jolted from his wandering thoughts by Lucienne, his most trusted advisor.

“My lord, a message has arrived from your father the king.”

A frown etched itself onto the Prince’s face as he pushed his breakfast to the side- what an aggravating way to start his morning. He took the tightly rolled scroll of thick, handmade paper and unrolled it with long, bony fingers. His frown grew more pronounced the further he read.

“My lord?” Lucienne was almost hesitant, her fingers tight around the ledger she carried. “What news from his majesty?” Morpheus sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, a gesture he had picked up from his father despite his best intentions.

“It is a summons,” he ground out. “He wishes me to attend him at court for the summer.”

Lucienne frowned with a pang of sympathy. To say that Morpheus and his father King Chronos Aeterna did not get along was well beyond an understatement. Morpheus was the opposite of everything his father had wanted him to be, showing more interest and aptitude in creative and scholarly pursuits than learning the craft of war, as was expected of a crown prince responsible for strategically valuable border territories.

Spending any amount of time at his father’s court was tedious at best. An entire season was sure to be nigh unbearable.

He gave a resigned sigh. “Begin making travel arrangements. I will draft a response to my father.” He gave the order with all the flat dread of someone about to face the noose. It was going to be a long summer.

And so it came to pass that Morpheus began the four day journey, following the border of his land and Fawney Rigg until they reached the Gates of Horn and Ivory, massive gates and walls carved of white stone that spanned the entire border of Istoria. If one walked along the wall from end to end, they would see the entire history of the Dreaming laid out before them, carved into the stone. Morpheus could feel his hackles rise as the gates creaked and groaned open, allowing him and his party into the bustling city. He thought he could feel the mythical creatures carved into the gates frowning at him. Folks going about their business immediately stepped out of the road and bowed, looking up through their lashes, hoping to catch sight of the Prince and not just a flutter of emerald livery in the wind.

The procession slowly made its way to the palace, where the King, Queen, and their retainers were waiting at the top of the great stone stairs. Marble walls and gates that were miniature recreations of those guarding the city, depicting the history of the Aeterna line, were flung wide open, knights standing at attention. Banners bearing the golden Aeterna crest on deep blue fabric flapped in the breeze.

Morpheus’ first thought was that his mother seemed pale. Queen Nocturna had always been fair- Morpheus owed his complexion to her, along with his bright blue eyes- but under the light of the late afternoon sun she looked frail and sickly in her midnight gown, as if the slightest breeze would scatter her into dust. Her hair had long since faded from inky black to the shining silver of the moon, but it lacked the luster Morpheus remembered. Had it really been that long since he had seen his parents? Had something happened?

Beside her, King Chronos stood as regal and stony as ever. There were a few new lines on his face, and a few more gray hairs in his dark beard, but the frown he had reserved for his third child since Morpheus reached his majority was dour and disapproving as ever.

The Prince was announced as he dismounted and approached the foot of the staircase, a herald bellowing his numerous titles for the assembled. When that list was exhausted, he ascended the stairs until he was two steps below where the King and Queen stood, leaving him shorter than his parents– normally he was of a height with his father, and half a head taller than his mother.

Chronos shook his son’s hand with a stiffness only Morpheus could see. “Be welcome, my son.” The King ground his teeth. “It is good to see you.”

Morpheus quickly bowed his head with a curt, “Father.”

Once Chronos released his hand, the Queen enfolded Morpheus in her willowy arms. She could feel some of the tension leave his body in the relative safety of her embrace. Her smile was beaming when she pulled away to look at him.

“You look well, Morpheus. I’ve missed you, my dear.”

Morpheus kissed her cheek in greeting with a tenderly murmured, “Mother.” The Queen had always been a refuge for her son when his father insisted on Morpheus being someone he was not- she encouraged him to pursue his passions, constantly reminding him that there was more than one way to be a strong King. Always out of earshot of Chronos- even to his wife and son, he was their King first, a father and husband second, and his word was law.

“Come,” Chronos said to Morpheus, loud enough for the crowd to hear. “You must be weary from your journey. Be welcome and make yourselves comfortable.” He clapped Morpheus on the back and guided him into the palace, followed by his retinue. Once the royals were out of sight, the crowd dispersed, the spectacle now ended. Only one man lingered near the bottom corner of the ancient palace stairs, leaning on a stout quarterstaff.

It is here necessary to briefly introduce Robert Gadling. Orphaned at seven, he was one of a good number of parentless children, now adults, who did odd jobs for the businesses of the city, as well as the government- everything from construction to loading and unloading ships’ cargo, from running messages to protection from overzealous loan collectors if need be. On occasion, a few would be hired by the day to work in the palace, mostly on structural repairs and maintenance.

Robert, or Hob as the townsfolk called him, was a natural born protector. He had never been one to back down from a fight, and, as he planned to live through all his fights, he dedicated much of his time to developing his skills. He would often be seen near the docks or the entrance to the market, talking with foreign merchants and their guards, asking them to teach him what they knew of combat in exchange for a day’s labor. His friends constantly warned him that knowledge wouldn’t buy him food or lodging, but he would just laugh.

It was in this fashion he honed his skills over the years and taught them to his fellows. He could disarm anyone in a matter of seconds and have a man twice his size on his back in under a minute (so the children said). He had even studied the blade, something his fellow brawlers stayed away from- too much like the royals and knights, they argued, and rolled their eyes when Hob insisted on learning anyway. No one would think it to look at him, that an average sized and modestly handsome day laborer would have such a knack for survival and zest for life.

Hob’s best friend noted the glazed, entranced look on his face and gave him a teasing shove. “Come on, Hob,” he goaded, “Leave the royals to their tea and cakes, we’ve got work to do.”

“Piss off, Adrian,” Hob replied as he returned the shove with a brief smile. “Not every day you get to see one roll into town. Besides, I’ve never seen Prince Morpheus before. Heard the rumors, but I had no idea he was so- so…” That glazed look returned as he searched for the right word.

“Arrogant?” Adrian supplied. “Sour? Pompous?”

“Beautiful.” Hob’s response was barely a whisper, as if the sentiment was something he wanted to keep secret but couldn't stop it from slipping out.

Adrian rolled his bottle green eyes. This was not the first time Hob had been besotted with someone after a glance, nor was it likely to be the last. The man had so much love in his heart to give, he just also happened to have a bad habit of choosing the worst possible people to bestow that love upon. Adrian could only hope this would be one of his shorter and less depressing devotions. Gods knew Hob had less than a figment of a chance with the Prince.

“Come on, lover boy, Waldren’s waiting for us.”

Adrian wrapped an arm around Hob’s shoulders and turned him away from the palace. Hob went willingly, but not without one last misty-eyed glance over his shoulder, wondering idly what the Prince was doing behind those marble walls.

Chapter 1

According to Morpheus, attending his father’s court and sitting in on council meetings fit the definition of ‘cruel and unusual punishment’. He rarely had anything to contribute to the other nobles’ gossip- not that he wanted to get involved in the first place- and the council advisors just loved passing off his suggestions as their own. His presence amounted to little more than an interesting trinket brought out at opportune moments to curry favor- or, in some cases, to parade in front of potential spouses. It seemed that this summer would see at least a dozen suitors visiting the palace over the course of the five and a half months Morpheus would be at court.

Finally, one sweltering and humid summer day, the Prince reached his tipping point. He was hot and sticky, aggravated and on edge. This breaking point came around mid morning, when he had had enough of listening to the pompous treasurer drone on and on. Without preamble, he rose from his seat and stomped out of the council hall, ignoring the calls of his father and the advisors. Everyone he passed in the halls jumped out of his way, able to feel the ire rolling off him like the heat rising from the cobblestones.

He needed to get out, away from the palace, and burn off some of this aggravation before he did or said something rash.

His first stop was his chambers, where he changed from the fancier attire expected at court to a loose-fitting gray shirt and black cotton breeches tucked into tall riding boots. Already feeling a little better, he made a beeline for the stables. His piebald mare Jessamy was munching happily in her stall, but perked up when she heard Morpheus’ footsteps. The Prince waved off the anxious stable boy who stumbled over the words, “Should I saddle her sir?” in favor of slipping on the bridle himself and swinging up onto her bare back.

With a few clicks of his tongue and a gentle nudge with his heels, Jessamy gamely trotted out of her stall, past the stable boy, and all the way into the courtyard before tossing her head and cantering out the palace’s southern gate, away from the city.

The paths through the forest were wide and well kept. Morpheus followed the main road for about a mile before turning onto a trail that was barely visible, unless one knew where to look. He slowed Jessamy to a walk to better navigate the tall grass and rushes that threatened to overtake the narrow trail. This far into the woods, all the Prince could hear was the birds, the wind, and the puffs of his and Jessamy’s breaths. A relieved sigh rattled out of his lungs and he slumped slightly on her back.

The trail ended at a small lake surrounded by willow trees. The air was cooler here, almost like stepping into another world. Baby shoots of grass were starting to poke through the previous year’s fallen leaves, and twittering birds fluttered between branches. The lake was surrounded by intermittently placed boulders of various sizes, giving it the appearance of a faerie ring, or a window to another world. Some of these boulders were light and bare, others dark with patches of lichen and moss. They all made for excellent perches to sit on and dip one’s feet in the water.

Tiny fish swam about in their schools, the concaves of their nests visible on the lakebed through the crystal clear water. A frog croaked from somewhere within the leafy plants growing stubbornly between the rocks and into the lake.

Morpheus dismounted with another sigh and loosely tied Jessamy’s reins to a branch. The mare shook her head again and began to delicately nibble on the new spring grass. While she enjoyed her snack, Morpheus sat on one of the flatter boulders at the edge of the lake and tugged his boots off, followed by his socks, then his shirt.

The moan he let out when his feet slipped into the cold water was almost indecent. He let his eyes flutter shut and his head tilt back as he dug his toes into the soft silt. After a few quiet minutes, he rolled his breeches up to his knees and waded further into the lake, his arms held out slightly for balance as the sand shifted beneath his feet. He waded deeper and deeper, all the way to mid-thigh, not caring in the least that he would be riding back with soaked trousers. Adding one more item to the list of things his father berated him for wouldn’t make a difference.

Morpheus already felt much better than when he left the palace, but he could still feel his hackles bristling, could still sense the undercurrent of tension and resentment running through his shoulders. The cold water was, apparently, not to be enough to cool him off.

With an almost aggravated sigh (how could it have come to this?), Morpheus loosened the ties at his waist and reached past his undergarments into his breeches. A rumbling groan slipped past his self control as his fingers wrapped around his cock. His other hand shifted the waistband of his breeches so his cock could spring free, a shiver running down his spine at the contact with the humid air. His toes curled into the lakebed as he moved his hand faster, occasionally running his thumb over the slit.

He had worked himself to full hardness and was eagerly chasing his high when a branch snapped in the trees behind him. He jumped, startled, and his head swiveled, looking for the source of the sound. The Prince held still, so still that no new ripples formed in the water around his ankles.

After moments that seemed like years, Morpheus relaxed ever so slightly. It was probably just a deer stepping on a dry twig. His cock throbbed insistently, as if urging him to get back to the task at hand. Morpheus shook his head and turned his focus back to between his legs.

Another rustle in the bushes, this one closer. Morpheus frowned; he had now been twice interrupted, and the agitation was creeping back into his bones. “Who’s there?” he called, hoping he sounded more angry than anxious. He tucked himself back into his trousers and sloshed out of the lake, muscles coiled in anticipation.

Out of the trees stepped a man. Clearly a commoner, if his worn shirt and breeches were anything to go by. Dark hair was pulled into a respectably long tail at the nape of his neck, and a neatly trimmed beard of the same dark hair covered the lower half of his face. Morpheus could see a small patch of yet more dark hair peeking out from the low V of the man’s shirt. Earthy eyes sparkled in the patches of sunlight that made their way through the trees, and they were hazily focused on the bulge in the Prince’s trousers. He had clearly been lost in his own thoughts, an apple raised to his lips as if he were about to take a bite.

Morpheus was still frozen, but for an entirely different reason. For a commoner, this man was exceedingly handsome- had he been born to the nobility, he would have lords and ladies alike falling over themselves to win his favor.

Hob jumped when his mind registered he was standing before the Prince. For one, he thought that he and some of his friends were the only ones who knew about this little lake in the forest, and, two, holy shit that was Prince Morpheus standing in front of him, barefoot and bare chested, a semi creating a small bulge in the front of his breeches.

“Oh fuck!” The apple flew out of his hand- he fumbled to catch it, just barely holding on to the fruit as he sank into a low bow, one leg in front of the other, back leg bent, eyes firmly fixed on the ground, arms out to the sides as he had seen the other nobles do.

Morpheus held up a placating palm as he awkwardly said, “Please rise, there is no need to stand on ceremony,” even though the other couldn’t see the gesture.

Hob rose out of his bow and placed his hands behind his back so Morpheus wouldn’t see his nervous fidgeting. How was it possible this man was a prince, was incredibly gorgeous, AND had a voice that could lure any sailor to their watery grave? “A-apologies, sir, Highness, I- I didn’t think anyone else knew about this place-” He swallowed hard, trying in vain to control his nervous babble. “I didn’t mean to disturb you, I can just-”

“It’s quite alright.” Morpheus chuckled in spite of himself- it sounded a little strained to his own ears, but maybe that was because the erection that had fled in his momentary fear was starting to make a comeback at the sight of the beautiful man before him. “I wasn’t aware others knew of this spot either.”

Hob laughed as well, tense and awkward, scratching the back of his head. But oh gods, his smile could light up the darkest of dungeons. Morpheus could feel his heart clench in his chest, already wanting to see that smile again. The Prince asked, “What is your name?”

“Robert,” Hob answered quickly with another little bow. “Robert Gadling. But my friends call me Hob.” He let out a bashfully choked laugh. “I already know who you are, Prince Morpheus. I mean, just about the whole realm knows who you are. Your Highness.”

Morpheus had taken a breath to respond when there was more rustling in the trees behind Hob, much more than what could be created by a single man or animal. The Prince froze again, lowered into a slight crouch. Hob immediately whirled around and positioned himself protectively between Morpheus and the tree line. His apple lay forgotten on the forest floor as he settled into a ready stance, his hands curled into loose fists, ready to strike or protect his torso.

Morpheus had always been independent to the point of being described as a loner, therefore the swirling feeling in his gut at the sight of Hob ready to defend him was completely foreign. It curled in his stomach and slithered between his legs, bringing back that inner heat the cold lake water had once absorbed. And if Hob didn’t see him glancing at the curve of his ass every few seconds… Well, that was between Morpheus and the trees.

The trees and grasses rustled again to reveal two men in dark gray rags, the lower halves of their faces covered with another piece of fabric. Dirt smudged the visible skin around their eyes. They were each carrying a wicked looking dagger, the blades sharp even if the handles were dotted with rust.

Hob immediately knew these were bandits- highwaymen that lurked in the trees and waited for the opportune moment to pounce. And they had just found quite the prize.

Jessamy snorted and stomped her feet, sensing the imminent danger. The bandits inched closer, step by step, knives held threateningly aloft. Hob glared at them, refusing to back down, hoping they would develop some sense and realize that whatever they had planned was not a good idea. One of them chuckled in eager anticipation.

“Turn around,” Hob ground out softly, eyes darting between the two, “and I won’t have to bash your heads in.” The bandits exchanged a momentary glance, as if debating the merit of Hob’s words. Apparently, they reached the decision that they had none, because they continued to advance, knives gleaming and ready to cut into flesh.

Morpheus crept back towards the lake, inching toward Jessamy, heart pounding in his throat. He had never encountered bandits before; the closest he had ever come to someone who had broken the law was on formal inspections of rehabilitation facilities where the offenders had been cleaned up and supervised by wardens. Now, he didn’t have wardens or his retinue or even his hunting knife- his only protection from these two bandits was another commoner who could just as easily decide Morpheus was worth the trouble of kidnapping, or killing, or both.

“Last warning,” Hob growled, the bandits now within striking distance.

The one on the right turned to his companion: “Get him.”

Hob swore then yelled to Morpheus, “Go! Leave!” as the first bandit came at him with the knife aloft, intending to bring it down into Hob’s shoulder, or wherever he could reach. He sidestepped the blow and redirected the bandit’s momentum so that he went stumbling towards the water.

The second bandit charged forward, knife point aimed at Hob’s chest. He grabbed the bandit’s wrist with enough force to make him drop the knife and drove his knee into the bandit’s side. The attacker grunted and doubled over, using the forward momentum to drive his shoulder into Hob’s stomach.

It was a lucky shot that knocked the wind out of him. Hob shoved the bandit away from him, hoping to buy a moment to catch his breath.

The first bandit had recovered his footing and rushed in from behind Hob, wrapping wiry arms around a golden throat. Hob’s eyes went wide as his breath was cut off, the bandit only squeezing harder as he struggled. The two assailants coordinated their next move with eye contact alone, one holding Hob by the throat while the other stepped into striking distance and threw a sloppy but strong punch at Hob’s face.

The bandit’s knuckles hit him square on the cheekbone. Hob cried out as his head snapped to the side. The man’s other fist came up and landed a punch across his mouth, hard enough to make his nose bleed and teeth rattle and split his bottom lip open.

“Fuck-” The swear was strained and came out with blood and spit. His vision starting to blacken around the edges, Hob reared his arm up and drove his elbow into the soft midsection at his back. Instantly, his windpipe was free as arms released him and the bandit doubled over in pain. Hob took several gasping breaths as he turned to the bandit who had been choking him and drove his fist into his temple, all the force and energy going down, hard enough to knock him out.

Hob turned his attention to the remaining bandit. The scrawny man was in a ready stance, hands curled into loose fists held up by his face, but clearly hesitant after watching his partner literally get beaten into the ground. Hob grinned, feral and almost cocky as he mimicked the man’s stance- on a closer look, he was barely a man, just an older boy with his first whiskers. Hob didn’t want to hurt the kid, but he may not have a choice.

With unexpected ferocity, the boy lunged closer, fist ready to fly. Hob dodged one punch, then another, the third glancing off his shoulder- poor lad was already panting for breath, sparking just a hint of pity.

“Come on, lad,” he tried reasoning, “just walk away.”

The young man’s only response was a desperate yell as he charged Hob, going for a grapple. Hob easily deflected him with a step and a twist, sending the bandit falling hard on his back. Hob settled into his stance, and with a well-aimed kick to his temple, he too was dealt with.

Silence suddenly rang in the clearing, broken only by Hob’s slightly panting breaths. His hands were still clenched into ready fists at his sides.

Morpheus had sprinted a quarter of the way around the lake to where he had tethered Jessamy. He had been ready to bolt at Hob’s word, now he soothed the mare with soft words and gentle caresses. It was like he was watching the whole thing through hazy glass, observing and present but removed, just left of in tune with the world. His chest felt tight, his hands shook uncontrollably as he tried to process all that had happened in a few short moments.

Hob moved out of his combative stance to crouch beside one of their would-be assailants. Morpheus quickly retied Jessamy to the branch and walked over to Hob, feeling extremely awkward and somewhat out of his depth. What did one say to the handsome stranger who had undoubtedly saved him from being abducted, if not worse? ‘Thank you’ did not seem to be anywhere near enough, far less than what Hob was owed for his deed. And yet, the words ‘thank you’ seemed to stick in his throat, refusing to come out.

He stood uncomfortably over Hob, who was pawing through the bandits’ clothes, hoping to find some clue as to their motives, and whether they went beyond simple highway robbery. The Prince had taken a fortifying breath to thank his protector when Hob ground out a curse in another language he had learned from a merchant. In his hand was a worn letter, folded and held together with a black seal. A sigil of stars and other symbols of magick was pressed into the wax.

It was, without a doubt, the seal of Roderick Burgess, King of Fawney Rigg.

“You might want to see this, Highness.” Hob rose to his feet and handed Morpheus the letter. His free hand swiped at his split lip and bloody nose- at least it wasn’t broken, again. He could feel the flesh around his cheekbone swelling painfully. Hob caught the Prince’s sympathetic flinch, small as it was, as he took the paper. Icy eyes quickly scanned its contents, dark brows furrowing closer together the more he read.

“I must return to the palace.” The words tumbled out of him as he refolded the letter and stuffed it in the waistband of his breeches. Moving quickly, Morpheus tugged his shirt back over his head and boots onto his feet as he continued, “My father needs to be made aware of what happened. Burgess sending armed men across our border with orders to watch and intercept me is no idle threat.”

He unhitched Jessamy and used a fallen log as a mounting block, swinging a lithe leg over her back and expertly gathering the reins. He looked down at Hob as he wheeled her around, holding himself with the distant majesty of a monarch despite his disheveled state. Hob could only stare up in awe, a worshiper at the foot of his god. Dappled beams of sunlight illuminated the Prince like a halo, and Hob was sure in that moment the Prince was indeed fae touched as the rumors went, if not outright divine in his own right.

“I think it is no exaggeration to say you saved my life,” Morpheus proclaimed, even if the forest and the man before him were the only ones to hear the royal edict. “I am in your debt, Robert Gadling. And I will settle that debt once this threat to the Dreaming is resolved.”

Hob bowed at his words, low and slow and reverent. A few globs of blood dribbled out of his nose and onto the grass. As he rose, he said, “Then at least let me escort you out of the forest and to the main road. I doubt there are any more of these men lurking around, Highness, but I would feel better seeing you to safety.” The last part was true, but Hob figured he probably shouldn’t mention the other reason for his offer: Prince Morpheus had utterly enchanted him, and this was likely to be the last time he’d see the man up close, let alone speak to him one to one, and he wasn’t ready for it to be over.

Pale, elegant fingers twitched briefly around the reins as Morpheus considered his words. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, searching for the right response. Finally, he settled on, “I would be glad of your company. Let us go.”

He clicked his tongue to get Jessamy moving at a walk, Hob keeping pace beside her. They were silent as they picked their way back to the main forest road, but Hob was on high alert. His eyes darted back and forth, fists clenching and releasing in time with his steps. It was relatively easy to ignore the stickiness of drying blood around his mouth and chin when he was so focused on looking for signs of danger. Thankfully, the trip passed without incident. Morpheus pulled Jessamy to a halt once they were inside the city gates.

“My thanks again, Robert Gadling.” Jessamy pawed at the ground as Morpheus spoke, eager to be back in the safety of her stall. “I do not like leaving my debts unpaid.” The unspoken request for Hob to name his price hung in the air like a phantom. Hob merely gave the Prince a gentle smile and bowed again, still formal but relaxed and easy.

“This time spent with you is payment enough, Highness.” He paused and bit his lip, plucking up his courage with a slight wince of pain. “May I… Could I call on you? If my day’s work brings me to the palace.”

Morpheus turned the request over in his mind long enough for Jessamy to grow impatient. He soothed her with a few gentle pats on her neck. “You may,” he finally replied. “As long as my duties permit, I will be glad to receive you.” Morpheus had already turned his horse and urged her into a trot before Hob could say a proper farewell. The gentle goodbye hung unspoken on his lips. Finally, he sighed and kicked a stray pebble as he made his way to the boarding house he called home for a bath and some rest.

#the sandman #dreamling #centennial husbands big bang

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yeahspider · 1 year

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sharing toys 🕸️

VE’s note - hyunsung yes plz . hyune is a lil perv and possessive and jisung is just here for a good time . dom!jisung x sun f.reader x switch!hyunjin reader is stuck in the middle (a good place to be tbh) of them . nsfw . well actually it’s just suggestive but yk . not proofread . if you want a part 2 with smut lmk ! my requests are open stop by ! oh and this was inspired by play date - melanie martinez bye .

hyunjin was annoyed . you were supposed to be at the party with him , not his friend . watching you giggle with him as you drunkenly lay in jisung’s lap is making his blood boil . you were his , he had already marked a claim on you and jisung knew this . so why is he flirting with something that doesn’t belong to him . watching jisung tap your thigh as a sign for you to get up and follow him had him fuming . following behind you he couldn’t help but admire how beautiful you were. no matter how long your string him along a part of him would always belong to him . stepping up to the door he saw you enter hyunjin could hear you guys giggling . he wanted to know what was funny , he wanted to make you laugh .

“you know have you tried talking to him about it ? you never know he might be down” he heard jisung say to you . hyunjin knows he should feel ashamed about listening to your conversation with his ear pressed to the door but a bigger part of him didn’t care . he was just looking out for you .

but what if he thinks i’m weird jisung ? you question . if he ever rejected me i don’t know what i would do with myself . who was this he you were talking about . and why were you seeking comfort from his best friend and not him .

“have you seen the way he looks at you ? he would never reject you pretty.” hyunjin was getting more irritated by the second . only he could be enamored with you no one else .

you don’t know that jisung . he could just be friendly. he can hear the frown in your voice and it makes him frown with you . whoever was making you feel sad would face him he vowed in that moment .

“my best friend kitten . he tells me everything . he speaks so highly of you trust me he’s in love”. hyunjin was absolutely floored . jisung didn’t have many friends which means he was talking about him .

but hyunjin is so him and i’m just me . that frown was still apparent in your voice and he knew he couldn’t stand behind the door forever . not when you were speaking down on yourself he couldn’t allow it . opening he door to your shocked face and jisung smiling he walked up to where you were standing and kissed you . he could feel your body flinch before you melted into him . pulling apart when he felt you needed to brave he cupped your face in his hands and locked eyes with you .

“don’t ever think you’re not good enough for me . you’re everything . you’re betautul and smart and so so kind and i’ve you’re more than enough for me . i don’t want to hear you talk down on yourself ever again okay ? . hyunjin waited for your nod before releasing you . in that moment he had completely jisung was still present in the room and til he heard a clap coming from the bed .

okay well since were confessing things pretty girl here has something to spill . jisung says with the slyest smile hyunjin had ever seen . he could feel your shoulders rise and you let out a sigh . locking eyes with you again he never expected the words that spilled from your lips next .

“hyunjin i like you but i also like jisung and i know you probably think that’s disgusting and i really can’t help it i swear i tried okay but it’s just you’re both so great and so nice to me and i don’t know what to do -“ hyunjin cut off your ramble with another kiss . pulling the prettiest sound he’s ever heard from your lips . he was a little suprised with himself that jealous and anger were nowhere to be found within his heart . he’s known jisung his whole life . he trusts him . and knowing you did too was making blood rush to his pants .

“it’s okay . i mean i’m surprised honestly but i’m just glad you like me and i guess i’d your were to also like someone else jisung isn’t the worse person to have feelings for .” he says with a bit of laughter falling out his lips .

i feel like i should be offended somehow . jisung said as he came up behind you and grabbed your hips , softly pushing you closer to hyunjin . and who knew hyune bee could learn how to share . he teased to older boy , who just sent him a light hearted glare .

“so what now .” you asked with anticipation lacing your voice . “i can think of a few things to do”, hyunjin said as he peppered light kisses on your neck . jisung’s hands tightened on your hips as you tilted your head back so he could continue exploring . jisung tugged on your hip and pulled you away from hyunjin with a playful smirk on his face earning a whimper from the entranced boy in front of you .

i think it’s time to teach hyunjin how to properly share don’t you princess ?

#stray kids fanfic #stray kids imagines #stray kids reactions #stray kids scenarios #stray kids x reader #yeahspider #stray kids headcanons #stray kids fluff #stray kids smut #stray kids series #han jisung smut #han jisung x you #han jisung x reader #hwang hyunjin smut #hwang hyunjin x you #hwang hyunjin x reader #stray kids angst #hyunsung smut

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utilitycaster · 8 months

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Well now im curious, what are your top 10 etiquette violations

I'm not actually sure there are 10 tbh in that these are relatively broad - you could split them up more finely if you wanted but they cover a wide range of behavior. Also this is...a bit stream of consciousness. I do stand by 1 as the absolute Golden Rule of D&D in that it's really just so Me Me Me (more so than main character syndrome) that it's inexcusable, but like...rules 2- 6 are kind of all in the same nebulous position in my mind as are rules 7-10. 2-6 are "really bad, have a talk and be prepared to kick this person out if they don't shape up and honestly I would probably not want to hang out with them irl much if they don't shape up" and 7-10 are "maybe don't invite them to game nights but they could be okay otherwise."

Deliberately going against the general vibe of the table. This is the broadest but also obviously worst trait. If everyone else is here to play a serious playthrough of Curse of Strahd and they're all vampire hunters and whatnot and you're playing a clown in a hawaiian shirt named Jeff you are not funny; you are an asshole. I think that person who made the post of like "I'm playing D&D with my dad's friends and they're all fighters with tragic backstory and I'm a neon firbolg who resurrects our enemies and runs therapy sessions" should be beaten with hammers. Like, be unique, but if everyone else is going for a lighthearted vibe it's not time to bust out your darkest PC and vice versa. (This also goes deeper, like, if your table has decided PC death in-game is okay, you can request a change, but if you've never spoken up about this and then your character dies and you pitch a fit, that's on you.)

"Um actually my rich family solves this" and similar circumventing of obstacles in a way that cuts off all story avenues. It's fine to offer your services to help - sometimes the party will want it! But the worst player I've played with (who still did not violate Item 1) did this and short-circuited like 75% of the plot by being like "well my wealthy merchant family can probably smooth this over" and I wanted to, well, beat them with hammers. Brian Murphy of Naddpod calls this "showing up and trying not to play D&D" and he's right.

Closely related to/overlapping with item 2 but Main Character Syndrome. If you're a wizard and there's a nonurgent trial of strength? that is for the barbarian. If they ask for help, go for it, but don't just do everything. Share the table. Self-explanatory but man do some people not get it. I'm also grouping this with "my character wouldn't help" behaviors. Like to be clear, forgoing your turn as a roleplay thing is fine, but another Naddpod D&D Court regular topic is like "the player for whatever reason would not join combat bc their character wouldn't, and we nearly had a tpk because the encounter assumed our fucking cleric would be there".

Actually violating player agency. Closely relating to 2-3. Conflict is great and good. I think it's fine to lie, cheat, and steal from your party members if your table agrees on that. There are spells or abilities that lead to possession which is also valid if your table has talked through that. But you do not get to otherwise like, force another player character to do your bidding (unless your table has, again, decided this is okay). You cannot persuasion check other PCs into going against their desires unless that's a very specific conversation you've had out of character as a table. Even in game, like, the DC on persuasion checks can be arbitrarily high - even impossible - if someone would simply never do it.

Noncombat/non-violent D&D. There are other TTRPGs that are not heavily based on war games with character classes that aren't like 90% battle abilities and you should check those out. Anyone who plays noncombat/nonviolent D&D and is proud of it is dumb as the bag of hammers I'm beating the people of items 1 and 2 for and I don't respect them. I guess this isn't so much an etiquette violation in that if your entire table wants this you can all be terrible together, but it is kind of a dick move, especially since I both love D&D and find the anti-D&D crowd to largely be the most sour grapes-ass losers of all time, but also believe passionately that there are many things D&D does not achieve well because it is in fact a specific game with specific objectives. You should, if you want to play a game that is all social encounters and skill checks and no fighting, play the many indie games that would love your patronage and suit you admirably, not the most neutered, milquetoast, unsalted margarine version of D&D. I genuinely believe that people playing murderhobos or hardcore metagamers are VASTLY preferable.

Not making a good faith effort to know the rules. You do not have to be good at D&D. You do not have to walk on your knees for a hundred miles through the desert repenting for not knowing every rule of D&D. You only have to let the soft animal of your body have at least read the rules of your character's class, subclass, and race, and show up prepared, instead of being like "tee hee I listened to 5 episodes of TAZ Balance and am going to twirl my hair at the DM and hope they help little old me." The DM is BUSY and has SHIT TO DO. Read the fucking manual. It's okay to be wrong! It's not okay to be clueless on purpose.

Rules for Thee and Not For Me. Mostly a DM thing, and to be clear, the DM does have special rules bc they are the special one and this is obviously not about that. There are also rules that apply to NPCs/stat blocks and not PCs, and those are inherent to the balance of the game and are fine because NPCs have different abilities. But if, for example, you are requiring an athletics check of PCs to climb up on a ledge and don't permit acrobatics, your rogue NPC villain can't do acrobatics either unless they have some specific pre-written ability.

Metagaming pt 1: excessive metagaming: Part 2 will reveal the "excessive" but like. If you know trolls regenerate because you've been playing D&D for years but you are a level 4 INT 8 sorcerer in-game? you do not know trolls regenerate.

Metagaming pt 2: refusal to engage with the fact that this is a game: Sometimes you get the reverse, when people are like "well my character wouldn't realize that this magic item was important to your character" despite the other person RP-ing everything or "would I notice you were knocked out directly in front of me? It's a pitched battle!" Like. don't cheat but come on bro. This is, ultimately, a game. I will once again bring up Naddpod both because D&D Court exists AND they will do rule of funny shit (as Murph once pointed out, if you want to say you go to Ruby Tuesday's as a joke, great, if you try to use it mechanically, no, which is a healthy attitude towards immersion) AND Murph understands the concept of kayfabe.

Really extensive indecision that doesn't involve the whole party. This is mostly me but like. it's not fun, and I am impatient. If you're not an actual play livestream, you should take a break and in fact talk out of game and resume because god this drags. If everyone's on board obviously go for it but if it's one person's choice...babe the spotlight is on you, sing your solo or leave.

Basically: remember you are at a table with other people and you are telling a collaborative story in a system that is combat-heavy. I'm not bothered by (for example) someone stealing another character's item so long as they understand that this may lead to consequences for them! If you can dish it out but you're prepared to take it and your table trusts each other? Great! The problem is when people try to win against the other players, ask for special treatment they do not grant others, waste everyone's time unnecessarily, or skip to the end of the story; that's against the fundamental nature of the game. It's inconsiderate AND it misses the point.

#answered #oddswayout #d&d mechanics #i guess?

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