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infamous-light · 5 months

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Happiness Has Two Hands

Alcina Dimitrescu x Gender Neutral Reader

AO3: Happiness Has Two Hands

Word Count: 1.9K

Summary: While reorganizing the library, an unexpected secret of yours slipped out. Lady Dimitrescu's daughters couldn't resist the temptation to exploit this newfound knowledge.

The library, an expansive realm of knowledge and discovery, stood silent, interrupted only by the gentle rustle of pages from the book Daniela immersed herself in and the occasional crackle of the fireplace where Cassandra reclined. The scent of leather and aged parchment filled the air as you were engrossed in the meticulous task of reorganizing several books. With a careful hand, you retrieved each book, ensuring it found its rightful place among its literary companions.

As you focused on the titles and subjects of the books, Bela moved past you, her footsteps echoing softly against the carpet.

Bela, having walked past you, found herself near a shelf adorned with dusty volumes, her fingers delicately trailing the worn spines. The low light from the antique chandeliers caught the subtle glimmer in her eyes as she ran her hands over the weathered covers. She occasionally plucked a book from the shelf, inspecting it with a thoughtful gaze before returning it to its place.

Cassandra, on the other hand, lounged on a sumptuous chaise near the grand fireplace. The gentle crackling of the burning logs created a lullaby, coaxing her into a peaceful nap. Her chest rose and fell in a slow, rhythmic pattern, and the warmth from the fire cast a soft glow on her features. The occasional flutter of a page turning nearby added a serene ambiance to the room.

Daniela was nestled in a cozy alcove with a particularly intriguing book in her hand. Her eyes were alight with wonder as she devoured the words on the pages. However, in her typical fashion, her attention wavered, and without warning, she closed the book with a resounding thud.

She sprang to her feet and abandoned the book on the velvet-cushioned chair. She began to wander the aisles, drawing closer to your location. Her eyes flickered over the shelves until her attention was ensnared by another book. She reached up, her fingertips tracing the detailed illustrations that adorned the cover.

As Daniela stood on her tiptoes to reach for the book, her sudden imbalance knocked over the nearby pile of books you were reorganizing. You instinctively lunged forward, your hands darting out to catch them mid-fall. Daniela, still regaining her balance, reached out to steady herself. In the process, her fingers brushed against your side in a fleeting moment of unintended contact.

The giggle that ensued broke the library's silence, drawing the attention of Bela, Cassandra, and Daniela. Their eyes met across the room, sharing a moment of shared amusement at the unexpected turn of events.

“Are you ticklish?” Daniela asked slyly as she turned to face you.

“N-No,” you stammered, a subtle nervousness betraying your attempt at composure. “You just caught me off guard. That’s all.”

“Caught off guard, you say?” Bela quipped, a teasing glint in her eyes as she made her way toward you. “That doesn’t sound very convincing.”

Cassandra, intrigued, decided to contribute to the lighthearted banter. "Well, well," she chimed in, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "It seems we've uncovered a secret that you neglected to share with us. How rude.” She feigned a pout in your direction.

“Indeed, a most unbecoming secret to keep from us.” Bela tsked, her voice carrying a tone of mock disapproval.

"Quite dreadful, isn't it?" Daniela remarked with a raise of her perfectly arched eyebrow. "Our dear servant hiding such interesting secrets from us,” she continued, her fingers idly tracing patterns on the coffee table nearby. Daniela leaned forward, her eyes shining in amusement. “What other surprises do you have to hide, I wonder?" She tilted her head in mock curiosity. Her grin suggested that the discovery of your ticklish nature had sparked a newfound interest in unraveling more of your delightful secrets.

"Well, now that we know the secret, what should we do about it?" Cassandra mused, her smile growing wider.

"I believe a closer examination is in order." Bela added with a smirk.

With a shared sense of purpose, they closed the distance, their laughter resonating throughout the library. Leading the charge was Daniela, intent to catch you in her clutches. Her fingers wiggled in the air, eyes gleaming bright with excitement.

"Let's see if our diligent servant can withstand the ticklish scrutiny." Daniela declared.

“Don’t you dare.” You warned, your voice laced with a nervous edge as you backed away from them. However, the twinkle in your eye betrayed the fact that, deep down, you were ready to embrace the impending ticklish onslaught.

“Aw, come now, little one. We only want to have some fun.” Bela crooned as she approached you with measured steps, her gaze fixed on you.

Cassandra, quick on her feet, circled from the other side, her fingers poised like a dancer's pirouette. “We won’t torture you much.” She emphasized the last word with a sickeningly sweet grin.

Pausing, you took a hesitant step back. Bela, ever watchful, noticed your uncertainty, and her lips quirked upward into a knowing smile. "You can try to run but you won't get very far."

Taking your chances, you spun on your heel and sprinted, intent on making a swift exit through the library’s main door. Unfortunately, your escape attempt was short-lived. Within a few steps, a pair of hands grabbed each of your arms and pulled you back with surprising strength. The momentum sent you tumbling onto a nearby chaise lounge.

In a matter of seconds, all three girls had you pinned down. Daniela had a firm grip on your ankles, rendering any escape attempts futile. Bela straddled your hips and hovered over you with an air of amused superiority. Meanwhile, Cassandra, positioned above you, had your wrists pinned on either side of your head, leaving you effectively trapped.

As you lay on the chaise lounge, their laughter filling the air, Bela leaned in, her smug smirk widening. "I told you that you wouldn't make it far."

Bela had her fingers poised above your sides. "Shall we see how ticklish they truly are?" She teased; her fingertips were tantalizingly close to your ribs.

Panicking, you began to plead. "Anything but the tickling, please!”

Cassandra, still holding your wrists, interjected, "Begging already? We haven't even started yet."

With a swift and coordinated effort, they began their ticklish onslaught. Bela's fingers glided over your sides, provoking fits of laughter, while Daniela's touch on your ankles intensified the sensory assault. Cassandra, maintaining her hold on your wrists, watched on with a twisted sense of glee.

Bela’s fingers skittered over your sides before deciding to venture into a more ticklish area.

Wearing a sly grin, she directed her attention to your underarms. Her nimble fingers launched a tickling expedition that elicited a new surge of laughter from you.

At the same time, Cassandra seized the opportunity to explore your forearms with devious delight. Her fingers traced intricate patterns along the sensitive skin.

“Please, stop! It tickles!” You cried out in hysterics, laughter bubbling uncontrollably as their fingers continued their merciless assault.

“That’s the point.” Cassandra chuckled, observing your disheveled state.

Amid the ticklish chaos orchestrated by her sisters, Daniela decided to add her own unique touch to the playful assault. She crouched down and removed your shoes, exposing your vulnerable feet to the impending tickle onslaught. As Daniela's fingers descended over the soles of your bare feet, a new wave of laughter erupted from you.

“No, please! No!” You gasped between fits of laughter, the strain on your stomach becoming more pronounced as the tickling persisted.

“Aw, are you out of breath?” Daniela mocked with a teasing lilt. “Poor thing.”

Amidst the laughter, you couldn't help but wriggle in a feeble attempt to evade the relentless tickling. The girls, however, were quick to adapt to your movements, maintaining their grasp and intensifying the ticklish sensations.

"Trying to squirm away, are we?" Cassandra mocked as her fingers trailed up your forearms.

In an abrupt and unexpected move, Bela’s fingers slipped under the hem of your shirt and made contact with the sensitive skin of your lower back. You gasped at the sudden sensation, a burst of laughter escaping your lips. Her fingers traced along the curves of your lower back, and you attempted to shake her off, but your efforts were met with amusement from Bela. Chuckling softly, she reveled in the sight of you squirming under her touch, the dance of your movements adding an extra layer of joy to the impromptu tickle fest.

Taking note of your reactions, Daniela abandoned your feet and shifted her attention to the area under your knees. Her fingers slid up your calves, coming to a deliberate pause at the bend of your knees.

“Wait, no, not the knees!”

But it's too late. Daniela's fingers teased along the delicate skin under your knees, unleashing a cascade of ticklish shivers through your body. Tears streamed down your cheeks as the sensation overwhelmed you.

“You're absolutely adorable like this,” Daniela said, her words accompanied by a wide grin. “Breathless and squirming uncontrollably, it suits you.”

“They do look cute like this.” Bela commented. Her fingers, light as a feather, traced unpredictable patterns along your ribs. The action elicited a sharp yelp from you.

As the tickle torture continued, the doors of the library swung open, drawing the attention of everyone. Lady Dimitrescu stepped inside and came to a halt as her gaze fell upon you all. She arched a perfectly manicured eyebrow, her expression a mix of curiosity and amusement.

“What is happening here?” She asked, her tone laced with genuine curiosity.

Lady Dimitrescu’s heels clicked throughout the library as she approached the scene with measured poise. The corner of her lips quirked ever so slightly as she gazed down at you. You lay there amid the scattered books, breathless, with your cheeks flushed from the exertion of laughter.

“They dared to withhold a secret from us, Mother. It turns out they’re very ticklish.” Daniela said with a playful glint in her eyes.

“Oh?” Lady Dimitrescu tilted her head to the side.

Acting on a sudden mischievous whim, Daniela extended her finger and poked the sole of your foot. You squeaked at the unexpected touch.

“Please, my Lady! Help me!” You pleaded, the desperation in your voice reaching a high note.

A low, melodic chuckle rumbled from Lady Dimitrescu. She regarded you with an amused yet contemplative expression. To the surprise of everyone, she reached down and allowed the tips of her fingers to graze the side of your ribs. The gentle touch prompted an immediate eruption of giggles from you.

“No! Please!”

Lady Dimitrescu chuckled. “I never realized you had a ticklish side, my dear. Though, I must admit, finding this out has been rather entertaining.”

“You’re evil.” You playfully accused while catching your breath.

“I know.” She said with a self-assured smile, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “Come on, girls. Release them. I believe you’ve tortured them enough.”

With that, they reluctantly relinquished their grip, freeing you from the clutches of their ticklish assault. They all gave you a grin as they left, each one giving you a lingering promise to continue the encounter. As they sauntered out of the room, their laughter lingered like a melodic echo, fading away.

A gentle touch on your shoulder interrupted your trance, drawing you back to the present moment.

“I believe it’s my turn to indulge in a bit of playful torment.” Lady Dimitrescu announced with a smirk.

As her words hung in the air, a blush crept up your cheeks and you couldn’t help but gulp at the prospect of being under her mercy.

#alcina dimitrescu x reader #lady dimitrescu x reader #alcina dimitrescu #resident evil 8 #resident evil village #resident evil fanfic #lady dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu

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theconfusedacorn · 9 days

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So! @notherpuppet made an absolutely STUNNING gender bend design for Lucifer (HERE) and I simply COULDN'T RESIST drawing her! That said, I give you, Lucifer meeting Luci(fer):

With TWO different endings, because I couldn't pick which was better:

Thank you @notherpuppet for letting me draw your wonderful design! She has STOLEN my heart, and really makes me want to try my hand at a gender-bent Lucifer myself!

Anywho, that is all!

#art #character art #digital art #hazbin hotel #digital illustration #artists on tumblr #digital sketch #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin lucifer #lucifer morningstar

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theturtlelovers · 17 days

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Can I request a sentence prompt with mikey? Number 4 please where mikey is asking for female so's attention while she's doing some work so she let's him sit in his lap.

𝙳𝚎𝚜𝚔-𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝙳𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜

Pairing: Mikey/fem!Reader Rating: Everyone Contents: Mikey wants some attention, so the reader sits on his lap while they work. Warnings: Nothing major, implied established relationship, Mikey is a sweetheart that deserves love, the reader is requested to be fem but can be read as gender neutral. Wordcount: 858

Notes: Boom! More content! Probably gonna burn myself out by accident, but oh well! ¯\_ (ツ)_/¯

The clock ticked relentlessly in the quiet room, a soft metronome marking the passage of an afternoon steeped in silence and concentration. You were deep into your work, papers spread out like a fan in front of you, laptop open and buzzing softly with the hum of productivity. The only light in the room came from the soft glow of the desk lamp and the fading daylight that managed to seep through the blinds.

Outside, the world continued without pause, but inside your small sanctuary, time seemed to slow, bending around the focus of your tasks. It was during one such moment of deep concentration that you felt a presence looming near the doorway.

“Hey,” Mikey’s voice cut gently through the quiet, a soft but firm reminder that life wasn’t all about work.

You looked up, slightly startled, your train of thought breaking like a string of pearls scattered across the floor. Mikey stood there, a sheepish grin spreading across his face, his eyes filled with a playful gleam that you knew all too well.

“What’s up, Mikey?” you asked, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips despite the slight irritation at being interrupted.

“I need some attention,” he admitted, his tone light but his eyes searching, almost hesitant as if he expected you to turn him away.

You sighed, your gaze sweeping over the expanse of papers and the digital clock blinking back at you. There was still so much to do, yet the earnest look in his eyes was too hard to resist. Pushing aside a stack of papers, you patted your lap, a silent invitation.

“C’mere, I can sit on your lap until I’m done working.”

Mikey’s face lit up at the offer, and he didn’t need to be told twice. He moved across the room with that grace unique to him, despite his size and the robust build of his frame. The chair creaked under the combined weight as he settled down, his body cool against yours, a solid presence that radiated comfort.

His arms wrapped around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder as he nuzzled into the crook of your neck, his breath warm against your skin. You couldn’t help but lean back slightly, the familiar scent of him, a mix of his natural musk and the faint hint of mint from his shower earlier, filling your senses.

The keyboard lay forgotten for a moment as you allowed yourself to enjoy the closeness, his presence a calming balm to the frenzy of your workday. But reality couldn't be held at bay for long, and you soon turned your attention back to the screen, your fingers resuming their dance across the keyboard.

Mikey was quiet for a while, simply content in being close to you. But as minutes turned into half an hour, you could feel him shifting, his body starting to fidget as he struggled to keep still. Every so often, his fingers would draw small, absent-minded patterns on your side, or his toes would tap lightly against the floor.

“You okay?” you murmured, not turning your head but speaking softly.

“Yeah, just…” His voice trailed off, and he squeezed you gently. “I just like being here with you, even if you’re busy.”

“That’s sweet, Mikey,” you replied, sincerity lacing your words. “I like having you here too.”

The room fell into a comfortable silence once more, punctuated only by the soft clacking of the keyboard and the occasional shift of paper. As you worked, Mikey’s presence became a grounding force, his steady breathing syncing with your own.

Hours seemed to compress into moments, and when you finally hit 'save' on your document, the realization of time passing so swiftly made you blink in surprise. You stretched, feeling the slight stiffness in your back from sitting too long, and turned to Mikey, who was watching you with a patient, adoring gaze.

“All done?” he asked, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through you.

“All done,” you confirmed, a sense of accomplishment flooding through you, made sweeter by his company.

Mikey helped you tidy up, his large hands making quick work of the scattered papers, aligning them into neat stacks with a precision that always surprised you. Once everything was put away, he stood and offered you his hand, pulling you up into a tight embrace.

“Thanks for letting me stay,” he murmured, his voice muffled as he spoke into your hair.

“Anytime, Mikey. You know that,” you responded, wrapping your arms around him and squeezing back just as tightly.

As you both stepped out of the room, the weight of the work left behind, you felt lighter, the evening ahead promising relaxation and the simple joy of being together. Sometimes, it was these quiet, seemingly mundane moments that deepened your bond the most, the silent affirmations of presence and support weaving a stronger connection between you.

As you walked hand in hand, leaving the confines of your workspace, Mikey’s warmth by your side reminded you that no matter how busy life got, there was always room for a little more love, especially from a turtle as special as Mikey.

Tagging: @whygz, @brightlotusmoon, @mrghostings Interested in getting tagged? Come check it out!

Like what you read? Check out my masterlist to see if you find anything else!

#tmnt bayverse #tmnt #tmnt michelangelo #tmnt donatello #tmnt raphael #tmnt leonardo #tmnt x reader #tmnt donnie #tmnt 2014 #tmnt 2016 #tmnt mikey x reader #tmnt bayverse x reader #tmnt 2012 x reader #tmnt mikey #tmnt michelangelo x reader #tmnt 2012 #tmnt 2007

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isadoresmuse · 11 months

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Obsidian Desires

Warning: The following fanfiction contains mature content and is intended for readers who are 18 years old or above. Reader discretion is advised.

Reader is only referred to as “you”/ Gender Neutral.

Word Count: 737

Yandere Mafia OC x (Gender Neutral) Reader

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the air, enveloping the cozy little café in a warm embrace. (Y/N), a talented barista, expertly worked behind the counter, effortlessly crafting the perfect cup of joe. The bustling city of Milan provided a constant hum in the background, the perfect symphony for (Y/N)'s daily routine.

Unbeknownst to them, an enigmatic figure had taken notice. Luca Salvatore, the charismatic and ruthless Italian Mafia boss, concealed his dark allure behind a well-tailored suit. His sapphire eyes were entranced by (Y/N)'s grace and the subtle charm that emanated from every movement.

Day after day, Luca found himself drawn to the café, watching (Y/N) from afar, his desires entwining with his dangerous nature. The flicker of passion ignited within him, transforming his love for them into something sinister—a manic grip on their heart.

On a particularly busy day, (Y/N) caught sight of Luca standing by the café entrance. Their eyes met briefly, an electric spark surging through their veins. Unbeknownst to (Y/N), this fleeting connection would ignite a blaze they were ill-prepared to face.

Luca approached the counter, his voice dripping with a mixture of authority and subtle seduction. "Cappuccino, please," he requested, his voice resonating with an air of dominance.

As (Y/N) prepared the beverage, their hands trembled slightly, sensing the intensity radiating from Luca. The exchange was brief, yet it left an indelible mark on both their hearts.

Days turned into weeks, and Luca's infatuation with (Y/N) grew exponentially. He couldn't bear the thought of another man touching them, let alone stealing their heart away. His mind became a canvas of possessive fantasies, dark and intoxicating.

Luca's sinister nature led him down a path of obsession, his dangerous tendencies entwined with his desires. He began to use his power and influence to ensure (Y/N)'s safety, pulling the strings from the shadows. He dispatched his most loyal underlings to protect the café and ensure that no harm would befall (Y/N).

One evening, as the café closed its doors, (Y/N) found themselves alone, surrounded by the silence of the space. They were unaware of the lingering presence outside, the sound of Luca's footsteps drawing closer.

With a sudden gust of wind, Luca appeared in the doorway, his eyes burning with a mixture of urgency and danger. The air thickened with unspoken desire as he approached (Y/N), a predator closing in on its prey.

"(Y/N)," he whispered huskily, his voice a velvet caress against their ear. "You're mine."

Before (Y/N) could react, Luca's lips captured theirs in a consuming kiss, a passionate union of two souls tethered by fate (or was it something more disturbing that chained their lives together). The taste of coffee mingled with the hint of danger, igniting a fire within them that they couldn't resist.

Luca's world and (Y/N)'s merged in a tempestuous whirlwind of passion and danger. Love, lust, and violence became intertwined, their desires intertwined in a dance that knew no boundaries.

The café became their sanctuary, a place where (Y/N) could embrace Luca's dangerous world while still retaining their independence. Under the guise of serving coffee, (Y/N) discovered the darkest depths of love, reveling in the adrenaline that coursed through their veins each time Luca entered the homely bistro.

Yet, the sun grew hotter the closer they got and eventually started to burn; the whispers of reality grew louder. The fine line between love and possession blurred, leaving (Y/N) torn between their desire for freedom and the allure of Luca's vicious embrace. Icarus plummeted into the unkind waters below.

Luca and (Y/N) existed in a world of secrecy and sin, bound together by an unyielding passion and the ever-present danger of Luca's underworld. Their love, tainted with obsession, proved to be a volatile concoction, threatening to consume them both.

In the depths of the night, as (Y/N) lay tangled in Luca's arms, they couldn't help but wonder if their souls would forever be shackled by the intoxicating grip of their lover shrouded in crime.

And so, their journey continued, a dance of dominance and submission, fueled by their undeniable connection. Only time would reveal if their love could withstand the tempestuous storms that lay ahead, or if it would succumb to the sinister desires that lurked in the shadows of their hearts.

#yandere #yandere oc #yandere male #tw: yandere #yandere x you #yandere x y/n #yandere x reader #yandere scenarios #yandere mafia #tw: obsessive behavior #obsession #obessive love #gn reader #yandere sfw #yandere older male x reader #tw: possessive behavior #possesive love #coffee shop au

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delopsia · 2 years

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Just And Just As | Nick Furcillo X Reader

Word Count: 10,000 t.t Cross Posted Here on AO3 Warnings & Notes: Implied NSFW, brief mentions of food. Really just a lot of fluff and borderline smut. Idk man, I blacked out when I wrote this. Gender-neutral reader and mentions of a height difference because I couldn't resist.

No, no no no, this is not how your plan ends.

The voices behind you are growing louder. Closer. They'll be here any moment. Trembling hands turn the doorknob once more. It turns. Pull again. Nothing. The damned thing is jammed and won't budge.

"Y/N!"

Shit.

They're almost here. They know this is where you've gone. Any moment now and they'll be rounding that bend into camp. One more time. One more time.

Again, you turn the knob and pull.

No dice. You're accepting defeat - the ziplines would have been a better place to run. Fuck, why did you choose the fucking pool of all places?

The doorknob tears out of your hands as it flies open. Familiar hands grasp your wrists and tug you inside. There's no time to grasp what just happened, no time to avoid stumbling face-first into a broad chest.

"Whoa!" The door audibly slams shut behind you. "What's got you in such a rush, sweetheart?"

Temptation to step back is ebbed away by the arms that circle around you, gently securing you against his chest, fingertips tracing circles into your spine.

"The campers were getting close," you grumble, peering up to meet his eye, "and I couldn't get the damn door to open."

He's silent — just for a moment, brown eyes flickering to the door, then back down to you. "You do remember..." he pauses to fight the big, goofy grin that's sprawling across his face — his efforts are futile, "that the door is a push to open, right?"

Your cheeks burn.

"Oh my god," you bury your face back into his chest, concealing your shame, "what am I supposed to even say after you've just stood here and witnessed me act a fool for a full two minutes?"

"You could say, 'Nick, you're such a good boyfriend, thank you so much for saving me from those rabid counselors and their equally vicious kids'," you're vaguely aware of a nose bumping against the side of your head. It's the best he can do to bend down and rest his head next to yours without outright bending down.

Nick's fingertips ghost up your naked spine, featherlight, settling at the base of your neck. They're firmer, a singular finger tapping the skin there until you draw your face from his chest to meet his gaze. "You look beautiful in this swimsuit," it's barely a whisper, so quiet that you briefly consider whether or not you'd actually heard it. The flame in Nick's cheeks state otherwise, visible even in the darkness of the pool room.

"I wish you could have come to the island with us," your hand wanders up to brush the hair from his eyes, he leans into it, "you would have loved the view from the treehouse."

"Unfortunately, someone around here has to keep all the campers fed," Nick tilts his head to press a kiss into your palm. He misses by a bit, getting the side of it more than anything, but still, it lands. "I've got a lot better of a view right here, anyway."

Both of your cheeks go up in flames, and you have to look away for a moment to regain your composure. You're not quite sure who the comment affected more, you or him. Words are hard to come by, your fingertips idly fidgeting with a lock of his hair. All this effort and planning for some alone time together, and now you can't even find the words to respond to a witty compliment. Nick takes hold of your hand, guiding it further up until you've fully tangled your digits in his long hair. It drives you impossibly closer to him, noses bumping together in your efforts to compensate for your height difference without standing on your tiptoes.

"I hope Jacob didn't trouble you too much while you were out," he says, with a dimpled frown. Jacob's constant pestering has only ramped up now that he became witness to a poorly timed peck on the lips — so much for keeping your relationship a secret, for your sanity's sake.

You shake your head, nose rubbing against his in an unintentional nose kiss, "he's calmed down since your stint in the woods last week." The image of Nick losing his temper and slamming Jacob up against an oak tree is one that will forever be burned into your memory.

Nick's stepping away, and for a fleeting moment, you're afraid that he's suddenly decided that you're far too awkward for his tastes. There's the slightest of tugs upon your wrist and it hits you that he's just leading you behind the lockers. As soon as you've rounded the corner, Nick's crowding your space, backing you into the corner until you have no space left to give him.

His lips bump against yours, touching but not quite there, "you seem to enjoy bringing that up," he observes, and before you can defend yourself, he cuts you off, "you couldn't possibly have a thing for me being mad, hm?"

Again, words fail to find you. You're saved by the familiar pressure of lips against your own, just a peck, one, two, three, four times. He goes in for a fifth, and this time you're standing on your tiptoes and catching him off guard, kissing him properly. Nick whines oh so softly, big, clumsy hands finding their way to your waist as he leans into it. The sound travels its way straight to your core, lighting a fire that burns impossibly brighter as a palm travels down your hip, fingers seizing a plush thigh. He does this every time, yet you still squeak against his lips as your leg is guided up to his hip.

You have to break it, lungs burning as you take a deep breath in, and with Nick's shoulders as leverage, hoist yourself up. It's a far cry from your first attempt, where you had jumped too low and Nick reacted too slowly, finding yourselves in a red-cheeked heap on the kitchen floor and fumbling for an excuse when Mr. H rushed in, fearing the worst.

Nick's giggle shatters the memory, and only now do you become aware of the thin trail of saliva connecting your lips. He makes no effort to break it, squeezing your thighs as he meets your lips once more. Here, with Nick comfortably settled between your legs, it's so much easier to kiss him, no ache from craning your neck up and standing on your tiptoes, just the comfortable flutter in your chest as your lips melt against his.

Cheeky, you nip at his plush bottom lip, tugging it in the slightest of nips. He gasps, lips parting oh so beautifully. He knows your tricks, meets your tongue halfway, chuckling at your surprised retreat. He chases you, hot tongue delving into your mouth, tangling with your own in the softest of touches. He tastes like peanut butter. Your lungs burn as you chase him back, spit-slicked lips sliding against his in the messiest of kisses.

You don't have much time, you both are aware of that, and you take the chance to break away from him in exchange for further ventures, catching your breath in between pecks and licks down his neck.

"Baby," he warns, and you're becoming increasingly aware of a blooming pressure between your legs.

The warning is futile, though, because your lips land on a sensitive spot just below his jaw, sucking at it gently. Nick twitches under your touch, pressing you further into the lockers with his hips, a newly freed palm gripping the back of your head as your tongue salves across the spot. The pressure of Nick between your legs is a new one, you can't quite recall a moment where he was ever this close.

"Baby wait, oh," he's powerless at the way that you nip at his skin, it's one of your favorite things to exploit.

Light explodes above you, white LEDs burning into your poor retinas.

Nick's letting you down almost immediately, backing away as if burned. The room feels impossibly cold without him crowding your senses, drowning you in all he has to offer.

"I knew I'd find you two stooges in here somewhere," Mr. H's voice is jarring, compared to how softly you and Nick had been speaking. It's only now that you realize that you've shut your eyes. "The hell are you two doing in here?"

"Intense game of rock paper scissors," Nick supplies, "we're going to Nationals, haven't you heard?"

When Mr. H doesn't immediately buy it, you fill in with your preplanned lie. "I got a migraine from the sun and this was the only quiet, dark place we could find," you've told this lie so many times that everyone is beginning to think it's true.

"Where are the sunglasses I bought you?" Mr. H makes a motion for you and Nick to head towards the door. You follow without question.

"Emma borrowed them for a theater class and never gave them back," at least you're honest, this time, "it's all an exploit to keep me from telling you how she's sneaking out at night."

"Are you sure you don't want us to tell you how they're doing it?" Nick chuckles, bumping his shoulder against yours with a not-so-discreet wink.

Mr. H shakes his head, fumbling with his keys. Hell, he's locking the door this time. "I want to catch them organically, in the act," he says, rather jovial for a man who just walked in on two of his counselors making out in the locker room, "what use am I if I can't even catch two horny twenty-year-olds sneaking out?"

His loss, you suppose. Ever since Emma figured out that Mr. H religiously goes to bed at 10:45 PM sharp, gets up once to pee at 2 AM, and then sleeps until 6:30, they haven't been caught once.

Nick bumps you again, harder this time, forcing you to glare up at him and acknowledge his presence. There's a red spot under his jaw and a funny little glint in his eye — like he's gotten away with murder.

"Back to why I'm looking for you, Y/N, you have a patient, and Nick, you have mouths to feed." Just like that, your excitement has exited from your body and flown off to the high heavens.

Back to work.

Blaire Whitson is one of those children that is almost always in your office, nursing a new injury. Yesterday she fell off the swing and cut her hand wide open, the day before that, she burned her tongue on a freshly roasted marshmallow.

"Why did Lucas push you off the canoe?" Talking is hard when you're focusing on this stubborn splinter, but it's all you can do to keep the poor girl from crying.

She huffs, loud and dramatic, "same reason he pushed me out of the tree last week. He doesn't like that I have a crush on Antonio."

You've almost got this splinter, but she keeps moving and you keep losing the damn thing, no matter how hard you try to keep her knee still.

"I still think he's just jealous," there's only one person at this camp who bares that accent.

"Hi, Counselor Nick," Blaire giggles. In her moment of distraction, her knee finally holds still long enough for you to get that damned splinter. She doesn't even notice it.

"What are you doing all the way up here?" You sneak a glance up to Nick whilst you reach for the Neosporin.

He's settled himself in the doorway frame, idly massaging his wrist as he watches you do your thing. "Burned myself in the kitchen," he lifts his hand, showing off the angry red burn along the side of his right palm, "my hired help turned on the wrong burner."

You don't need to ask who his hired help is. It is common knowledge that Dylan is a menace in the cafeteria and should not be allowed within fifty feet of a microwave, regardless of whether he's being chaperoned or not. You suppose that's why you've been smelling something burning for the past half hour.

"Why would Lucas be jealous?" You haven't quite figured that one out, just seems like childish bullying, but you're not usually spending time with the kids.

Nick settles in an open chair next to you, still has a faint red mark along his neck. You practically have to drag your eyes away from it, and only because Nick is leaning over to whisper in your ear. "Ryan confiscated a love letter from him this morning."

Ah.

It takes less than a minute for you to finish cleaning up Blaire's injuries, and then she's rushing off to get dinner before it's too late. She's eaten late meals in your office far too many times for it to be a fun experience for her anymore, and you're thankful that she doesn't linger like a lot of kids do.

"Sit." You point a finger at the newly empty bed, getting up to fetch a cold compress and anything else you suspect you may need to treat his burn. You assume it can't be too bad — Nick has never been great at hiding his pain, and he doesn't seem all that bothered right now.

The burn isn't too bad, much to your relief. Nick whines every time you touch it, but that's the most you gather out of him.

"Love note, huh?"

"Said something about being upset that every girl likes his brother and not him," Nick grumbles as you massage aloe into the angry flesh of his hand, "couldn't imagine why the ladies aren't all over him."

"It's almost as if people avoid bullies, out of fear of being bullied themselves," you're struggling to focus on the task at hand. Nick's uninjured hand working its way up your shoulder is proving to be quite distracting.

"What? You don't consider being shoved out of a canoe a quality trait in a man?" He teases, giggling at his own dumb comment.

"Not exactly, no," you raise your head at the same time he does, brushing your noses together.

You can't quite bring yourself to pull away. You really should, considering the door is wide open, but you can't resist just one kiss. It seems Nick had the same idea, because he meets you halfway, chases you down for another as soon as the first one ends.

"I wish we got to have more alone time," he pouts, the moment your lips have left his. "There's literally nowhere to escape, and our wonderful coworkers take over the boathouse every damn night."

An idea strikes you as you reach for the gauze. "Why don't we sneak down to the ziplines? There's a dock down there, too."

"Oh thank the Lord, are you two finally gonna fuck?"

You're not sure when Dylan arrived, but there he is, smug as ever in the doorway. Before you can ask what he's doing here, he points to your medicine cabinet. "I need hard drugs and a nap."

Ah, right.

Dylan has a habit of getting migraines while in the cafeteria. Something about the various noises and smells just sets him off. He's brought his honorary bottle of water, saving you the trouble of fetching one yourself.

"Cabinets unlocked," you supply, beginning to wrap Nick's hand, "don't overdose."

You know the drill by now. Feed Dylan some painkillers and allow him a 30-minute nap on one of the beds, and he's good as new. You're thankful that he doesn't follow up on his first statement. If there's anyone at this camp who knows how to tease without being a genuine pest, it's Dylan.

Jacob should start taking lessons.

"Is this where you go every night after dinner?" Nick is so wrapped up in his new revelation that he doesn't notice when you finish wrapping his injury, leaving his hand stuck out even as you step away to put your things back.

"Congrats, you've found me out," Dylan says around two ibuprofen, "took you long enough."

You don't have to ask about what's coming next, ushering Nick out of the room to avoid any more fussy remarks from your most frequent patient. You just so happened to have picked the one room with a decent mattress, and Dylan religiously picks that room to sleep in.

"What's going on?" Nick wonders aloud, once the door has fallen shut behind the both of you.

"That room has the only decent mattress," you elaborate, yawning, "Dylan refuses to sleep anywhere else."

With Dylan curled up in your office, Nick walks you down to the cafeteria under the promise of reheating a meal for you. Dinner is already over, much to your dismay, but there seem to be some perks to dating the lead chef. The kitchen is a damn mess, but it's one that Nick seems to know like the back of his hand. He breezes through it, alternating between a variety of pots and pans seamlessly. There's only one empty space, in the corner next to the fridge. You swear Nick keeps it cleared just because you always sit there. You're just beginning to sit down on the wooden stool when he comes bounding over like a puppy.

"Chili mac 'n cheese," he announces in his best southern accent, placing a bowl in front of you, "and cornbread." The cornbread is on a napkin, he's been improvising ever since Dylan knocked over a whole rack of plates last week.

"Is this how you got rid of all those different noodles?" There are at least five different noodles in this, even alphabet pasta, strangely enough. Nick nods, long hair bouncing with the motion. He's always like this, eagerly awaiting your reaction to his cooking.

Nick can be quite the chef when he wants to be, and that proves to ring true even with this unusual-looking chili. He starts grinning when you go in for a second bite and cheers when you give him a thumbs up.

"Do you have tomorrow figured out or is that still a work in progress?" You ask, reaching up to push his hair from his eyes.

"Chili spaghetti," he chirps, around a mouth of cornbread. He's been obsessed with it ever since Mr. H lent him the Hackett family recipe, makes it two or three times a week anymore.

You're not sure if you heard him right. "Chili what now?"

"Chili spaghetti," he says, slower this time, "my dad and I tried it after we went camping midwest last year. I've been thinking about it ever since." His stomach growls as he speaks, as if to put emphasis on his statement.

If you had your phone, you would look this up, because you have no idea what the hell this entails. Alas, Mr. H is hellbent on keeping the camp as "original as possible", whatever that means. It makes sense for the counselors, but you'd really appreciate it if he would lighten up on the rules. Especially considering how often you overhear him playing Candy Crush.

Boomers.

You finish your food quickly — Nick's waiting on you before he starts cleaning, and you'd like to lend him a hand so that he doesn't get stuck in here until 11 PM again. It's happened before and you'd feel guilty if you let it happen again. You take off to hunt down stray utensils in the cafeteria, while Nick begins the long, strenuous process of washing every single dish by hand.

"I have eleven runaway spoons and a singular plate," you announce, upon your re-entry. Nick makes a noise, you can't tell if it's him acknowledging you or if he's just pissed off with the pot he's scrubbing. He's got a glove on his burnt hand, which only seems to be getting in the way more than anything.

With a clean towel, you dry the dishes and put them away, working as quickly as you can to catch up to Nick's queue. It's not hard — most of the dishes are the same and as such, go in the same places. Between that and the pots, you catch up to Nick rather quickly. You're leaning against the counter, waiting for the next dish when Dylan comes bounding in.

"We're back in business boys," he yawns, making a beeline for the spare sink, "Y/N I hope you can keep up."

Going into this, you weren't aware it was a challenge. Regardless, you're up for it. With two pairs of hands washing, your job gets a lot more hectic. Back and forth, you alternate between the two stations, drying the dishes as you walk them to their destinations.

"So are you two actually going down to the ziplines tonight?" Dylan asks as he hands you a particularly large knife, still dripping with water when you take it.

Nick's handing you a handful of spoons as you breeze past him. "Depends on whether we finish these dishes in time and if Mr. H catches us."

The knife block is just out of your reach, to your dismay. You have to clamber onto a stool to get to it, have to ignore the amused grins of your much taller peers. Sometimes you catch yourself wishing witchcraft was real, just so you could pay a witch to make them short for a day. Humble them a little. There's laughter outside, and you're pretty sure that's Kaitlyn who's raising her voice to garner everyone's attention.

Dylan huffs dramatically, sets down a bowl a tad too hard, "another campfire without us." It's an ongoing issue — the kitchen crew gets left behind to do all of the cleanups while the rest of the counselors go to the campfire to listen to Ryan's campfire tales. You used to go with them, but ever since you stumbled across Nick and Dylan washing dishes after midnight, you've felt too guilty to not help them out.

"We're almost done," Nick, ever the optimist.

You're working up a bit of a sweat, jumping between the two stations, drying dishes as fast as your hands will allow. Nick's moving as fast as he can. He really wants to make it to one of these fires — you can see it in his eyes. Eyebrows furrowed, tongue poked out of his mouth as he scrubs away, determined to get these dishes done.

"Is there a reason why the nurse is in the kitchen?" Mr. H's voice is so jarring that you nearly drop the plates you're cradling.

"I want to sleep at a decent time," Dylan's tongue is sharp as he speaks, "forgive us for accepting some much-needed help."

You choose not to speak, smiling as you breeze past to take another freshly washed dish. It would be far nicer if Mr. H would go ahead and just scold or kick you out, but he just stands there in the doorway, hands on his hips, staring. His presence makes it harder to focus on the task at hand. Your hands tremble as you take the next set of dishes, nearly drop a spoon when you're separating it from the forks. 'It's okay', Nick mouths, out of view of Mr. H's careful watch.

"Y/N, get to the campfire and help with the kids," your heart sinks, "I'll take over and help them finish up."

"We literally have ten plates left," Dylan deadpans.

Mr. H is quiet, stares until it begins to feel uncomfortable again. Frowning, you hand off your dish to Mr. H and head for the door. You feel like a stray cat being tossed out into the rain, slinking out into the rapidly darkening outdoors. The campers have already been herded down to the fire pit, leaving the main section of the camp empty and deserted. Walking alone in the woods is not your favorite cup of tea. It's not even that far, but the dark forest is ominous, trees towering overhead, bushes concealing God knows what behind them. The constant reports of kids seeing something lurking in the woods at night are certainly not helping the matter.

Alone and out of Mr. H's watchful eye, you drag your feet, walking as slowly as you can manage without outright stopping. Either time must be passing slower, or Mr. H is talking the boys' ears off because you find yourself approaching a roaring campfire and the boys are nowhere to be seen. Kaitlyn's waving you over, perched up on the 'Counselors Log' as she calls it. You're still not sure how she's managed to ward off all the kids, but she's successfully staked her claim and so far it seems to be well respected.

"How did flirting with Nick go?" She asks once you're within earshot.

"Great until Mr. H ran me off," pause for dramatic effect, "twice."

"Keep on trying my little Storm Trooper," you can smell the faintest twinge of alcohol on her breath, must've been a hard day for her to dig out the vodka she smuggled in, "once you get out of here, you'll be set for life with that man's fortune."

Here we go again. "I still don't know what makes you think he's rich," there's not much space on the log, you're surprised you have room to fit. Of course, all of the counselors could hypothetically fit, if Jacob wasn't taking up an entire quarter of it.

"Dude, he was wearing a designer jacket at orientation!" Emma chirps, kicking her feet. "He has to at least come from a little money."

Right on queue, Dylan and Nick walk around the bend. Mr. H follows closely behind, like some sort of creepy shadow. Something cold hits your legs, and you realize it's Kaitlyn handing you her canteen. "Hold this and pretend it's yours," she whispers, "I'm afraid Mr. H may be on to me and my drinking habits."

There's a big shuffle to fit the two extra counselors — Jacob doesn't want to move to the edge and close his damn legs, Ryan nearly knocks Abigail's notebook into the fire and she just about smacks him upside the head with it once it's returned. You find yourself teetering on the edge of the log, thrilled that Nick has chosen to sit next to you, but it's getting hard to stay on this damn log.

"This log could be just a little bit bigger," Nick chuckles, watching you struggle. "Would you rather sit in my lap?"

You're not sure if it's his words or if it's the raging fire that puts the red in your cheeks. "Are you sure?"

"Long as you're comfortable with it," he says it so easily like it's the simplest thing in the world.

Despite your better judgment —the kids are definitely not going to let this one go— you agree. Nick shuffles a bit, adjusting to the extra space, and reaches out for you with open arms. He curls around you, long arms securing around your waist as you settle into his lap. Vaguely, you become concerned that you may be a bit too heavy for him. You attempt to alleviate that worry by putting more of your weight onto your feet than you are in his lap, it's an awkward sensation.

Nick's arms tighten, pulling you the rest of the way down. Plan? Foiled. "You're not too heavy for me, darling, don't even worry about that," lips ghost against the shell of your ear, presses a kiss behind it. There's a loud gasp from the kids that has you freezing, fearing the worst. Did you do something?

Then you hear Ryan's voice, and it hits you that he's just telling a story. Nick's chin hooks over your shoulder, a welcome weight that draws the stress from your tired body. He's so warm, all wrapped up around you like an oversized blanket, it's like you were made to fit right into his arms.

You've forgotten about the canteen in your hand. At least, forgotten it until Kaitlyn reaches over and plucks it from your hand. "Don't you two just look cozy," she teases, and you feel Nick hide his face in your shoulder.

Ryan's tale of the night comes to a close, and the kids are not happy about it. A handful of them beg for another story in their shrill little voices, someone offers their fruit snacks as bribery. You really need to pay attention to his stories more often, they're the highlight of the night, and half the time, you don't even hear them.

"I think I've told a story for just about everything," Ryan's mostly just talking to himself, albeit loudly.

"Have you told a story about werewolves yet?" The words tumble out of your mouth before you can do anything about it.

Ryan's eyebrows furrow, and he's quiet for a moment. "Can't say that I have, actually."

"Hey guys," Mr. H is lowering his voice, stepping between you and the fire, "let's just skip the werewolf topic and get everyone to bed."

It's not like you're being scolded, you've done nothing wrong, but his tone makes you feel like you've committed the most heinous crime imaginable. Your coworkers share the same expression, confused beyond words.

"Mr. H, we still have thirty minutes before bed," Nick's protest goes nowhere. Mr. H's words are law, and if he wants everyone in bed now, what more choice do you have?

With a bucket of water, Mr. H puts out the fire, and you're once again tasked to do a job that you don't get paid enough for. Getting out of Nick's lap is the worst part—you feel so safe there; it's like nobody could lay a single finger on you.

Getting the kids back to their cabins is like herding cats. Someone is always doing their own thing and not listening to instructions, and it makes your job impossibly tricky. You lose sight of Nick rather quickly, too wrapped up in stopping a group of boys from marching off to 'hunt down the wendigos themselves'. In a way, their attitude reminds you of Jacob. Invincible until they're not. It's all you can do to keep the ringleader from tearing off into the night, and he's only talked out of it once you're out of the forest altogether.

"Campers, head to your cabins!" Kaitlyn shouts, "don't make me tell you twice!"

She's gonna have to tell them twice. About half the kids, including your Wendigo Fighters, trudge to their cabins, but the remaining half cant give a damn what she just said. Who's truly in charge here? Because it seems like the campers could overrun this place if they so chose. Speaking of running camps, you can see Mr. H tying some sort of rope to the side of the pool building. He's dragging the rope across the lawn, looks like he's taking it all the way across the main exit of camp. The hell is he doing?

There's a small voice behind you that barely stands out among the chatter of campers. Blaire stands behind you, Antonio close behind, holding her tiny little hand.

"Did you say something?" You ask, kneeling to get on her level.

"Counselor Nick asked me to ask you to come and save him," she repeats, pointing off to your right.

Ah. There's Nick.

He's amassed himself a small crowd, and he really doesn't look like he knows how to get out of it. This happens every time he opens his mouth; the kids love asking him to say things in his accent.

"Thanks, Blaire," you reach up to fix a stray hair, "head on to your cabin now, 'kay?"

With Blaire and her friend running off to their cabins, you're faced with the familiar task of saving your boyfriend from certain doom. You can hear the words he's saying, "butter," "squirrel," and "juice box," being the first three you hear.

"Okay, kids, let's not harass Counselor Nick anymore than we have to," you hate raising your voice, but it's the only thing that's ever worked in the past. The kids are disappointed, but they scamper off just as Kaitlyn whips out the megaphone.

You get the feeling that you're no longer their favorite Counselor.

With the megaphone out, you only have a few moments before you need to disappear into your respective cabins, but Nick's wandering hands are finding your waist, bringing you in for the quickest of kisses. "You never told me your plan for tonight, love."

You'd almost forgotten about that. Had you even planned anything?

"The two stooges sneak out at eleven fifteen; we might be able to get out after they do," you offer. Quite frankly, you have no other ideas.

"Works for me," another kiss, and then you're separating, jogging to your cabins before Kaitlyn can come after you. It's happened before—you still think your left ear is ringing a bit.

Your bunk isn't much, just some tiny thing tucked into the corner. The frame is cracking, so nobody sleeps above you, and you've tucked a spare sheet around it to create some makeshift curtains. It's nice; privacy is a rarity around here. As a bonus, your bed is pushed right up against the window, granting you full, unlimited access to it. You're really glad that you left the blinds open this morning because opening those would make a lot of racket.

The kids settle in rather quickly; your cabin has learned the hard way that Kaitlyn does not mess around when it comes to bedtime. She is a woman of routine, and she has no problem reminding them who is in charge. The problem is that now, the cabin is impossibly quiet, and you have nothing to help pass the time.

Pushing open the window helps a little bit—at least now you have some fresh air. The camp is eerily quiet, forest looming behind, a monster in plain sight. You will never understand how people go camping alone. What do you do if something gets ahold of you? If something goes horribly wrong?

It feels like an hour has passed before Jacob's cabin door opens up; your watch says it's only been twenty minutes. Emma comes out next. It's clear that she does this pretty often because she makes no effort to be quiet. How Mr. H constantly fails to catch them, you'll never know.

Nick's door is the last to open. He's more cautious about it, minding the squeaky, loose stairs far better than Jacob and Emma did. He crouches next to his cabin, only scurries across camp when the two have their backs turned on their way out of camp. Unfortunately for him, he isn't graceful enough to avoid stepping on and snapping a rather loud twig.

"Did you hear that?" Good lord, why is Jacob observant now, of all times? He wasn't very observant last week when he drove the golf cart into a ditch.

Emma is dismissive, you don't hear what she says, but she's tugging on his arm and urging him on his way. From behind the central tree, Nick pokes his head out, wide-eyed and pale. You feel like you're in a spy movie when you clamber out of the window as quietly as you can manage. The way that Nick scurries over reminds you of a puppy, clumsily tripping over his own feet, just barely able to catch himself.

The loudest cowbells you've ever heard ring in the distance.

So that's what Mr. H was doing earlier. You can hear his voice in the distance, a bright white flashlight landing on the two escapees. There's no time for Nick to run back, not without getting caught himself. Nick seems to have gathered that himself because he picks up his speed and jumps, grabbing onto the railing and hoisting himself over in one fluid motion. He doesn't need to say anything, you're already climbing back through the window, and Nick is tumbling in after you.

Limbs are everywhere, you don't know where Nick starts, and you end. This bed is barely big enough for you, never mind you and Nick. He might as well be a second blanket, with the way he's sprawled out on top of you, panting in your ear.

"This isn't how I imagined this escapade turning out," he whispers, voice unintentionally sending a ripple down your spine. He must feel it because he finally squirms himself away from your ear.

Mr. H is beginning his lecture outside; you can hear it in his tone. Preaching about responsibility and putting the kids first. You'd heard enough of this at orientation.

"After all, what will the parents think?" Nick mocks with a roll of his eyes.

"If something happens to the kids, their parents won't send them back next year," you finish, much to his delight.

Nick shuffles around, rearranging your positions to put you closest to the window. Your pillow barely accommodates the two of you, but you hardly even notice it. It's hard to think of anything when Nick's all wrapped around you, legs tangled with your own, barely an inch of space between you.

His hand slips under your shirt, settling flat on the small of your back. "Isn't it silly that a lecture is what brought us together?"

It was only a month and a half ago, but it feels like it's been a millennium since that day. Framed for a mistake made by Emma, you and Nick had been subjected to an hour-long lecture and a three-day sentence to cleaning. You've been bound at the hip ever since.

"Remember the fight in the showers?" It's growing hard to think; Nick is so warm that he's putting you to sleep.

He hums, "I was convinced that you hated me."

You'd coincidentally thought the same thing. Strange how all this worked out. Nick presses a kiss into your forehead, then another one, right between your eyes—you can't help but giggle at the sensation.

"Shh," a kiss to your nose, "your giggles are going to get us caught."

"Well, nobody was bothered by the cow—," you're cut off by a pair of familiar lips, effectively shutting you up. The kiss is too short for your liking, Nick may have only intended it to be a small peck, but you didn't sneak him into your bed just for a peck.

He gasps against your mouth, effectively surprised at how you chase him down, and for an agonizing moment, he goes still. Your hand finds its way up his chest, fingers splaying out over his heart, and that's what draws him from his stupor. It's a sensation that you never want to get used to, the way you fit together, the pressure of his soft lips against yours, the strength of his arms around you.

Teeth clack together with a soft noise; your mouth opens to him, a hot tongue delving into your mouth. His tongue is rather short, can't quite reach yours unless you meet him halfway, and the muffled whine you receive makes it all the more worth it. You don't know who's melting more, can't tell who is breaking kisses to gasp for air and who is starting them again. What you do know is that it's you who moves your leg up; it's Nick who whimpers when your thigh presses into your groin.

Oh, what you wouldn't give to be in a place where you could adequately act upon your inner thoughts.

"Fuck," Nick pants, breathless, although you're not much better yourself. He shifts a bit, only making your thigh press harder into him, and you suddenly become very aware of what you're doing to him.

Drawing your lips away from his feels like the most monumental task you've ever completed; it's all you can do to stop yourself from kissing him until your lips bruise and your heads spin. You don't want to go to sleep, but you know that if you continue on, neither of you may be able to stop.

Neither of you recalls exactly who fell asleep first or when. It just happened somewhere between Nick's thumb rubbing the side of your cheek and the novelty of sharing a bed for the first time. One moment you're gazing into sleepy brown eyes; the next, Nick's watch is vibrating and stirring you both from your slumber.

"What...?" Words are difficult. Your bones are heavy; it feels like you've slept for a century and a half.

"Just my alarm," he murmurs, his voice thick with sleep.

Despite the growing need to get up and be ready before the kids, neither of you can bring yourselves to move. Nick is so warm against you, a stark contrast to the cool breeze coming in through the open window. The moment is fleeting, though, as Nick's watch reminds you of the time.

"Find me in the kitchen later," kiss, "I have something to show you." Before you know it, he's slipping out the door and scurrying back to his own cabin before Dylan can wake everyone with his announcements.

You don't get a chance to visit Nick until after lunch.

Usually, you have time in the morning, not for long but enough for a kiss on the cheek and a chat about the day's plans, but your day is going wrong in every possible way. First, two of the showers broke, and your morning shower rapidly turned into a midday one, and so, so many kids fell when on their trail hike with Ryan and Jacob. You've never seen so many scraped knees and elbows in your life.

When you do finally get to visit, Nick is... "What are you doing?"

Nick all but jumps, startled by your sudden appearance. It's short-lived because very quickly, he's grinning and waving you over to look at what he's concocting now.

"I don't get it," really, you don't. He's got what appears to be raspberries or strawberries in a strainer and a tin can underneath.

"Do you remember how Mr. H bought all that lemonade, and now we don't know what to do with it?" Whatever this is, he's excited, practically vibrating with it.

Cautious, you nod your head. You were one of the poor souls who had to carry all of it in and put it into the freezer. It's hard to forget that much lemonade.

Nick moves the strainer, revealing a bright red liquid underneath. "I made syrups," he can barely speak with how much he's smiling, "now we can have a little variety."

Where he's found the time to figure this out, you're not sure. He's handing you a glass from the fridge, already mixed with syrup and ready to go. Nick has never given you something that didn't taste amazing, and as you take your first sip, it continues to ring true. Strawberry lemonade.

"God, you look at Y/N like they hand-crafted the universe," Dylan must be coming up with these in advance—he's too quick with it.

"Hey," Nick scoffs, "you're not much better than I am."

"At least I don't give off the vibes of a golden retriever."

Speechless. That's what Nick is. Jaw slack, eyes wide as he glances at his reflection on the fridge. Now that it's been pointed out, you can't unsee it.

It falls quiet. Nick is still looking at himself in what you can only assume is horror; Dylan is getting into the granola stash, and you're so busy watching them that you don't even think to speak. Distantly, you think you can hear Emma and Jacob bickering, a familiar sound around these parts.

"Romeo and Juliet got sentenced to three days of hard labor," Dylan supplies around a mouthful of granola. Nick grimaces, and you can't tell if it's in response to the punishment or the granola.

"I can't believe Mr. H caught them with cow bells on a rope," there's a glint in Nick's eye as he speaks. "What's he got them doing?"

"Do you want to find out?" Mr. H's voice is loud, booming through the quiet little kitchen, effectively shaking you to your core. You don't realize that you've jumped and grabbed onto Nick until his arm is wrapped around you, anchoring you against him.

Emma stumbles in through the door, her cheeks red from the sun, "Y/N, can I borrow you? For...something?" Being borrowed means, you'll be busy until sundown. But you'll take anything over Mr. H staring through your very soul as if he knows all of your wrongdoings. Slipping from Nick's protective embrace, you follow her out of the building. She's got a mini play going on, but she needs extra hands, and Jacob is being particularly...Jacob, today.

"I just need someone to keep an eye on the extras and make sure they don't wander off," she tells you.

At first, you don't understand it, but then it becomes very clear that her group tends to wander. You feel like a herding dog, weaving back and forth and turning the little heathens back to the task at hand. One of the kids spills your lemonade all over the ground, and nobody owns up to it. You hadn't even gotten to drink much of it, and now your glass is completely empty.

Mr. H really doesn't pay you guys enough.

"Has Mr. H been rude to you lately, or is he just doing it to me and Jacob?" Emma asks you shortly after Ryan has come to escort the kids to dinner.

"He definitely has been sort of..." you have to stop cleaning up just to have a coherent thought. Yeah, now that she mentions it, he definitely has been teetering between pleasant and snappy lately. "Snappy? Menacing?"

"An ass?" She drops some gnome hats into her costume box, "he got mad at me and Jacob earlier just for being in the same room."

With all of the gnome gear packed away, the two of you are finally able to leave. The sun is already falling, bathing the forest in deep hues of red and orange—a true golden hour. It's comforting, a stark contrast to how menacing it can be once the sun goes down. A shiver ripples down your spine.

As you grow near the main building, Mr. H's truck tears out of the driveway, sending dirt and gravel flying up into a plume of smoke. Idle, Ryan stands stiff as a board where the truck was once parked. Even from a ways away, you can see the whites of his eyes, like a deer in headlights. When he finally does come to face you, he remains the epitome of shocked, jaw-slack, eyes distant.

"What's going on?" Emma's the first to speak.

Ryan's quiet for a moment, and then, "he's...leaving for the night?" He says it as if he doesn't quite believe what he's saying.

There's a cheer to your left. It sounds like Jacob and...

"Nick?" You're surprised to hear your own voice. He just grins, stepping out from beside Jacob to come to you.

"We're finally unsupervised!" Jacob looks like a little kid as he all but stumbles over to you, taking the box of props from your hands, "I'll take this."

With Mr. H gone, Jacob and Emma are bound at the hip again, and you get the feeling you won't be seeing them until morning. In the back of your mind, a tiny voice suggests you do the same, but your grumbling stomach has its own ideas. Nick doesn't need to say a word, taking your hand in his and walking you to the cafeteria.

Sometimes you think he'd go hungry if that meant keeping you fed.

Chili on top of spaghetti is not what you expect him to put in front of you. To be fair, he did tell you that this is what he'd be making, but it still gets you. For once, you get to sit at the Counselor's table, a luxury you don't often have these days. Nick settles next to you, absolutely enthralled with what he's made.

"Didn't you eat once already, Nick?" Kaitlyn remarks, biting into a slice of garlic bread. Nick's cheeks turn pink, all he can do is nod and stare at his empty plate.

Is he...pouting?

You choose not to bring it up with the others around, Nick's never been good at explaining what he's feeling, and teasing will only ensue if you ask. He does, however, scoot closer to you. Enough so that your thighs are pressed together, and your shoulders brush with every movement. You stay like that, listening to the conversations happening around you as you finish your food. Out of the corner of your eye, you spot Dylan heading for the stairs, bleary-eyed and half awake.

Abigail leans her elbows against the table, lowering her voice as if Dylan can somehow hear her over all the chatter. "Where does Dylan always go this time of the day?"

"Not a clue," lying straight through your teeth. He's probably curling up in your office as you speak, but that's none of your concern.

With Mr. H gone, you and the counselors have free reign over what to do for the night, and together you all decide that the best thing to do would be letting them play at the cabins until bedtime. A far easier task than herding them to the fire and back.

The routine begins. Nick takes your dishes, disappearing into the kitchen just before Kaitlyn and Abigail begin directing the kids. In the blink of an eye, you're carrying leftover dishes into the kitchen, and you're once again taking up a towel to begin the drying process.

"I'm here, I'm queer," Dylan all but bursts into the kitchen, "and I don't want to be here."

"This would be so much easier if Mr. H would actually invest in this place," Nick's critique is not without reason. It feels like half of the camp is falling apart around you. From the unfinished construction and deteriorating structures to its barely functioning equipment. Hell, the golf carts are so old that parts for them are becoming rarer by the day.

"At least he's left us for the night," you try to be positive about the situation, but there's nothing positive about a whole bunch of dirty dishes.

It's dizzying, spinning back and forth between stations so mindlessly. With no Mr. H to worry about, it goes smoothly. Nothing gets dropped, and it's looking like none of Nick's plates have gone missing, for once. The same cannot be said for the forks, which seem to have dropped in numbers since yesterday, likely at the bottom of the trashcan. None of you get paid enough to go in after them.

It's quiet outside. Far too quiet, actually. Usually, you can at least hear the kids playing or a counselor talking a touch too loud, but all you hear tonight are crickets. Nick must be picking up on it, too because he's squeezing your hand a bit tighter than usual, and he's not torn his eyes away from the path.

Darkness has already fallen, casting a blanket of black and blues upon the forest. A full moon hangs in the sky, acting as the only light to guide you through the poorly-lit trail. The cabins are deserted, with not a child in sight.

"Can you believe it?" Kaitlyn's sudden appearance startles you. "We got everyone in bed without a singular thing going wrong."

"Gee, did you threaten them, or did they do that naturally?" Dylan barely dodges the swift kick that comes for his shins. You don't think he'd even have shins anymore if Kaitlyn's legs were any longer.

"It just required a werewolf story," you hadn't even seen Ryan sitting on the cabin steps. Had he been there the whole time? "Kaitlyn called for bedtime, and they scattered like roaches."

Abigail giggles next to him. "You should have seen them, scurrying to their cabins like a werewolf was after them."

As conversation blossoms, Nick lightly tugs at your hand, eyes darting from you to the beaten path leading to the ziplines. Well, here's your chance to finally go through with that plan. You move slowly, at first, feet treading lightly as you depart from your group. If anybody notices, they don't mention it.

Then, Nick's picking up the pace, and you're all out running, wrapped in a fit of giggles as you sprint hand in hand to the ziplines. Finally, finally, you have each other all to yourselves, with absolutely no one around to impose. The forest is dark and Lord only knows what's lurking in the shadows, but the path feels like it's lit up like a Christmas tree. Absolutely nothing can come between you, Nick, and the open trail ahead of you.

"Do you think they know we're gone?" Nick pants, just as the ziplines appear in your line of sight.

You're already stumbling to a slow walk, lungs burning, out of breath for all the wrong reasons. Nick's long strides are hard to keep up with. "Let's just hope they don't come looking for us."

The ziplines aren't as nice as the boathouse is. It used to be illuminated by a singular fluorescent lamp post, but the bulb has since gone out, and Mr. H refuses to buy "unnecessary lights." The stairs are a different monster in of itself. Old wooden boards creak menacingly beneath your feet, seemingly growing louder with every step you take.

"Y/N."

"Did you say something?" You turn to look up at Nick, who just cocks his head to the side like a confused puppy.

"Nope," he blinks, "at least...I don't think I did?"

It happens again, at the bottom of the stairs. A faint whisper of your name, fleeting, dancing around your ear just long enough for you to become convinced that you didn't make it up.

"Did you say my name?"

"Baby, I haven't said a word since the last time you thought I said something."

You're not sure if you buy it or not, but Nick is tugging you into his chest, wrapping you into the sweetest of hugs—tight, just enough to remind you that you're safe. He's got you. You're safe here. He sways you back and forth, the motion shaking all of the worries from your head and filling the space with nothing but Nick. Nick and his heart that you can feel pitter-pattering against your ear. The way his fingertips trace invisible shapes into your spine, the way his cologne meets your nose, a faint mixture of vanilla and coconut that's just barely there.

"It's just the forest playing tricks on you," he murmurs into your ear, chin heavy on your shoulder, "I've got you."

You only unwrap from each other to go and sit at the end of the dock, feet dangling off the edge. Nick's feet just barely avoid touching the water; any wrong move and you're afraid he may end up with wet feet.

"I think this is the first time we've ever truly been by ourselves," yawning, he leans over to rest his head against yours, "as strange as that is to say."

"Do you think we'll get more moments like this before summer ends?" You hadn't intended to ask that yet, but it tumbles out of your mouth anyway.

Nick hums, the noise sending a quiver down your spine. "I like to think that we will," soft lips press a kiss to the skin just before your ear, "maybe after we leave, we can have a night to ourselves at that one hotel in town."

"Harvester?"

"Harabinger?"

It starts with an H; that's all you can recall. It's hard to think with Nick's nose pressed against your cheek, hot breath fanning out against your sensitive skin. An unknown voice calls your name from across the shore; you know you heard it this time. Yet you pay it no mind—distracted by the kisses trailing across your cheek and the sparkling brown eyes that could drown you if you gazed into them for too long.

His lips meet yours, a gentle, unmistakable pressure that you've come to know so well over these past weeks. He breaks it, then comes back, once, twice, thrice. You don't have time to consider pulling him into something that isn't just a few teasing pecks; he does it all for you. It's soft at first, just a simple caress, and then he deepens it in a way that has your head spinning.

His arm is circling you, drawing you closer until there's no space between you, and that's still not enough. Even as his tongue licks into your mouth, testing the waters, he's still not close enough, won't be until there isn't an ounce of space left between your tired bodies. It's that feeling that guides you to breaking the kiss—you can barely manage it, especially not when Nick whines and attempts to chase you down— to swing yourself over and straddle his lap.

His surprise is heard only through a small gasp. It's short-lived, his arms circling your waist, gathering you against him. Your arms are draping around his neck, and then you're kissing him again. He's all you can think of, senses clouded with Nick, Nick, Nick. You can feel him now, pressed against you between your legs, and it's all you can do not to take advantage of that face.

"You do such crazy things to me," his accent is thick as he mumbles against your lips, breathing heavily.

He falls backward, taking you with him as his back hits the rotting wood of the dock with a soft thump. Then he's kissing you again, insistent mouth parting your lips, hot tongue meeting yours for a fleeting second. An unfamiliar heat blossoms in your core, a dancing flame that threatens to grow into a wildfire at the drop of a hat. Nicks's hands are everywhere, tracing up your spine, cupping your cheeks. All the while, he's humming against your lips, a small noise that you've rarely heard him make.

Your head is spinning too much for you to focus, leaves you no option but to break away and gasp for the sweet, sweet oxygen that fills your stinging lungs. Nick looks so pretty underneath of you, hair splayed out on the wood beneath him, swollen lips, and glistening eyes illuminated by the light of the moon. It's hard to stop. Even with how dizzy you've become, you can't resist leaning back in to kiss down his neck, tongue soothing over every spot you come across.

"Shit," Nick gasps, "wait."

Just like that, you've frozen in place. "Is something wrong?"

He shakes his head, fingers catching your chin to guide you back up to him for a sweet peck. "Not here," his voice is trembling, unable to get above a whisper, "I want to make it perfect for you."

You're rolling your eyes before you can stop yourself. "It's perfect right now."

"Baby, if I have you now, I'm not sure if I'll be able to keep myself off of you for another month."

He says it so seriously that you can't help but giggle. "You have a point."

Breathless, you settle down on top of him, your ear against his chest, listening to his heartbeat and his arms intertwined around you like a vice. Time has stopped; the only thing in this world moving are your two heaving chests. For just a moment, you close your eyes and just breathe.

You awake to a strange sensation. Nick's there; you can feel him against you, but your legs are swaying in such an unnatural way, and his heartbeat is no longer as loud.

"Are you carrying me?" It's a dumb question. As soon as you open your eyes, you're met with a sleepy-eyed Nick and the dark cabins looming directly ahead of you.

"I was trying not to wake you," he frowns, kissing your forehead. "What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn't at least try to carry you to bed."

You grumble, burying your nose into his shirt. There's a weight in your chest that grows heavier the closer you get to the cabins. You really should get to bed, but even as Nick stands at your door, you can't bring yourself to get down. Nick's too warm to let go of.

"Baby?"

"Hm?"

"We're at your door."

"I know." You still make no effort to get down, only clinging tighter.

Nick chuckles, low and heavy in his chest. "Is this your way of saying you don't want me to go?"

Nod.

If Kaitlyn is awake, she doesn't say anything when Nick opens the door and steps inside. Only when he sits you on the bed, do you let go of him, just long enough to kick your shoes off and crawl under the covers. Nick is quick to follow after you, wrapping around you like a blanket.

Yeah, you could get used to this.

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tiredly101 · 1 year

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Part 3: What if Howdy's place was Barnaby becoming aware of his world and breaking the 4th wall and falling in love with the human reader? What would be the consequences of that?

(( Sorry if I'm asking for all the characters, but your writings were so good that I couldn't resist ))

Love this request, starting to love you anon! Here you go with Barnaby!

You are mine, got it?

Pairing: Aware!Barnaby Beagle x Human!Gender neutral reader

Howdy Pillar,Eddie Dear, Frank Frankly, Julie Joyful, Sally Starlet, All of them, Howdy's ending, Eddie and Frank, Eddie's ending, Frank’s ending, Wally's ending, Barnaby’s ending,

Aware Barnaby Illustrated Au, picture done by @eechytooru

Eddie delivered a package to Howdy like all the different story's begin, Wally was supposed to get the Tv for free from Howdy but Barnaby got it since he entered the store first and why wouldn't Howdy gift away a perfectly good Tv to the neighborhood clown?

Tv was sweet in Barnaby's opinion, he never payed much attention to it until he started seeing thing, a different world; a different reality

He should have been more shocked, he knows that but deep down he already knew. After all living in such a repetitive way was ment to arise doubts on the neighborhood but everyone seemed oblivious but Barnaby always knew deep down there was more to those never ending woods, he just... Ignored it

Barnaby still loved the Tv, taught him what was beyond his world but then he saw you. Watching the show his friends put on while drawing in a notebook

You were so pretty and he loved how you draw him! Made him look so handsome in such a simple way and it must be because you were... Well no words could describe it to it's full extent

Barnaby unlike Howdy and Eddie would actually do something more complex, as surprising as that is, he would make sure you never saw it coming

He would not ruin your life or take advantage of your downs, seemed to cruel so he decided to do something unexpected to say the least

Barnaby made you fall in love with him before even making an advance to take you, he made sure you went love sick till the point you yourself went inside his world and it worked at the end because you became a lost cause, too far in to leave but not far enough to be... dangerous

The worst thing is you said such pretty words to him when you found him, when you finally took what was ment to be yours from the beginning

"You are mine, got it?"

Here you go anon! Hope you liked it!

Additional tag: @waywardstardustcollector

#welcome home #Barnaby beagle x reader #Tiredly Jackie replies #Tiredly Jackie writes

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chronically-ill-psionipath · 4 months

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(Trans!Alvar)

The poll has spoken! :> 👤: I have no idea how I would go onto the topic of drawing a trans character. Alvar is still Alvar, but the poll wanted an emphasis on his transgenderism. I apologize if this isn't accurate, since I barley draw something like this. I never had a trans oc as well T0T BEAR WITH ME, OKAY?! I typically see trans characters shirtless with top surgery scars, which I took and threw at it. Let me know if I should do anything else in the future. I literally watched a video analysis on body types, gender etc. on art-

I couldn't resist T0T I see this clip everywhere- 👤: I read amazing fanfiction with Trans!Alvar :D

#kotlc #kotlc fandom #kotlc rp #kotlc fanart #kotlc alvar #kotlc art #kotlc alvar vacker #alvar vacker #kotlc ruy ignis #kotlc ruy #kotlc ravioli

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bored-writer101 · 1 year

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Eddie Munson X Reader More Bats

A/N: this is a pretty self indulgent fic because the reader is an artist. i had the thought for this while staring looking at pictures of eddie. hope you guys enjoy :)) (gender neutral reader)

Warnings: none

Summary: you can’t stop yourself from drawing more bats down eddie’s arm in pen, but you didn’t think he was actually going to get them tattooed on him.

Words: 1194

(not my gif)

More bats. That's all you could think as you looked down at Eddie's bare forearm. The sleeves of his hellfire tee stopped right above the bat tattoos that were just below his elbow. More bats. You thought again as you twirled around the pen you were holding. You couldn't resist the urge to draw more bats, so before you could stop yourself, you clicked your pen and leaned forward.

The clicking sound had somewhat gotten Eddie's attention, but he was a little preoccupied with the metal magazine laying open on his bed in front of him. What did get his attention though, was the feeling of a pen against his skin. He furrowed his brows before looking down to his right arm.

Your tongue poked out from between your lips in concentration as you drew more bats down Eddie's arm. Eddie could feel his cheeks begin to heat up at the close proximity. "Uh... Y/N?"

"Mhm" you hummed in response, continuing to draw. "What are you doing?" he asked, even though he knew exactly what you were doing; he was watching you finish your second bat that was just below the first. "Drawing" you answered simply. Eddie chuckled, opting to not bother you and just let you work.

A few more minutes passed by before you sat back, satisfied with the three incredibly detailed bats you had added. You didn't notice Eddie had been looking at you until you looked up to meet his gaze. The realization of what you had just done hit you like a truck.

I just started drawing on him. I didn't even ask, I just started doing it! What if when he had asked what I was doing, he actually wanted me to stop? Your mind was racing as your eyes began to widen. It was as if Eddie could read your mind. He smiled warmly before looking down at his arm, brining it up closer to his face to inspect your drawings.

"These are fuckin' metal! They look even better than my old ones!" Eddie did his best to make sure you knew he appreciated them. He had wished you'd added more, just so he could feel the warm skin of your fingertips and watch the way your tongue stuck out of the side of your mouth as you concentrated on getting every line right.

"You like them?" you asked. "Like them? I fuckin' love them! You'll have to draw me some more stuff sometime" you couldn't help the smile that tugged at the corner of your lips. "Okay!" you said happily.

You glanced down at your watch, realizing you should have left at least fifteen minutes prior. "Shit. I'm gonna be late. My mom is gonna kill me" you mumbled. "I gotta go, but maybe I'll draw on you some more later" you got up off Eddie's bed before walking toward the door. "See you later" you said with a wave. "See ya" Eddie waved back before you turned and headed out of his trailer.

You didn't see Eddie for a few days after that. You had gotten busy with work, and he had gotten busy with school(a.k.a. hellfire club). The next time you saw him he had come over to your house.

It was late at night, and you had snuck Eddie in through your window. You talked in hushed whispers, trying to keep your giggles quiet every time Eddie made you laugh. After a bit he had finally pulled his jean jacket off and thrown it to the side. It hit your carpeted floor with a soft thump. "Oh please, just put that anywhere!" you joked, chuckling as your eyes wandered to Eddie's now bare arms.

Your laughter stopped abruptly as you noticed the bats you had drawn on Eddie's arm were still there. Had he really not showered in four days? You knew he wasn't the most hygienic guy, I mean you've seen his room, but he usually showered before seeing you. You remembered he had told you that after you teased him about not showering one time.

You didn't notice Eddie had stopped laughing and was looking at you with furrowed brows. You reached out and rubbed your thumb across one of the bats toward the bottom. Eddie smirked at your realization.

"I couldn't let those masterpieces go to waste. Besides, they matched anyway" Eddie said before you could speak. You looked up at him, noticing now that you must have leaned in closer. "I suppose I underestimated you when you said you loved them" you said with a quiet chuckle. "Haven't you learned not to underestimate me yet? There's nothing I won't do, sweetheart"

Sweetheart. The word echoed in your head as your eyes glanced down at Eddie's parted lips. You quickly looked back up at his eyes, hoping he didn't catch that, but the look on his face told you that he did.

His lopsided smile turned into a full on grin as his gaze admired all of you. You watched as his eyes scanned down your body. Even with your clothes on, you felt naked and venerable under his gaze. Your eyes were open wide like a deer caught in headlights.

Eddie laughed, a hand quickly coming up to cover his mouth to muffle the noises. "Don't need to look so scared, princess. I don't bite" you felt a shiver run up your spine at the pet name, and also at the close proximity as he leaned in to whisper in your ear. "Unless you want me to"

You couldn't take it anymore. You leaned back slightly so you could see Eddie's face, before you gripped the fabric of his already torn metallica tee and pulled him in. Your lips met in a messy kiss that was all tongue and clashing teeth. Eddie wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you into his lap as you wrapped your arms around his neck. You continued to make out as your hands snaked their way into his long hair.

You started to get lightheaded, but you didn't want to stop. You could barely believe you were kissing Eddie, and you weren't planning on stopping anytime soon. Eddie pulled away for both of you though, leaning back as you both panted, trying to catch your breath.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that" Eddie finally spoke, though he was still a bit breathless.

"Me too" you replied with a shy smile.

"How about tomorrow I take you out on a real date? And maybe you can draw me another tattoo" his grin made you melt, and you didn't hesitate before replying.

"I would love that" you leaned in and kissed him again, slow and sweet this time.

"Can I just stay the night? Please?" Eddie asked once you pulled away.

"I don't see why not. Just be prepared to jump out the window if one of my parents knock on the door" you said with as you stood to lock your door.

"Don't worry, sweetheart. After we almost got caught last time, I'm always prepared" Eddie said before you jumped back onto your bed, straddling his waist and pulling him close for another passionate kiss.

#stranger things #stranger things 4 #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x reader one shot #eddie munson x reader imagine #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x y/n #gender neutral reader #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson imagine

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siriouslytired · 3 months

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Feedback fest 2024 🌻

Well RIP to my bookmarks because I just noticed that so many of my favourite fics have been deleted or made anonymous/put in a collection. Thought it would be fun to do this anyway.

Also apparently I managed to post this when it wasn't done (can you tell technology doesn't like me?) And for some reason I couldn't edit the original post (and what's up with that??). So uh, if anyone had liked the first post I deleted it because I got annoyed.

All fics on the list can be found on AO3

A Year In Toussaint by astolat

The Witcher; Rated E; Geralt of Rivia/Emhyr var Emreis

"[...] - and found himself spilling the whole sob story of his success to Emhyr, who actually broke and laughed out loud when Geralt got to the racehorses."

One of my comfort fics, will read it for a multitude of reasons but mostly just because it's so well-written and engaging (which is just all of astolat's fics really)

Hunger and Appetite by thegoodbutter

Shadow & Bone; Rated E; Aleksander Morozova/Alina Starkov; Modern AU

I couldn't actually tell you how many times I've read this, it's just SO GOOD. And the food descriptions are just fantastic, makes me want to cook up a storm/start baking something even though I hate doing the dishes afterwards.

The Stars Don’t Shine, They Burn by Sarcasmismydefaultmode

Shadow & Bone/The Witcher; Rated E; Alina Starkov/Emhyr var Emreis; Second Best AU

Read it. Do it. It's so fucking good. I usually don't read crossovers anymore but I couldn’t resist this one and it was so worth it. It blends the two worlds so well while making sure that the edges are obvious enough that you can still tell which parts came from what canon.

Amazing Grace (series) by Druid Moon

Marvel Cinematic Universe; Darcy Lewis/Clint Barton; Many references to different forms of crafts

A relic from when I mostly read MCU fics that I return to again and again and again. Super cosy, slightly sad, incredibly well-written, one of those fics that just draws you in once you start reading it.

coronas of wolf-teeth and rivers by Dialux

A Song of Ice and Fire; Not Rated; Catelyn Stark/Ned Stark; AU; Robert dies at the Trident, Ned dies at the Tower of Joy, Catelyn becomes Queen of Westeros

I remember reading the summary and basically attacking my phone screen to open the fic. It ties itself together so neatly from the premise and the way Catelyn is written is just fantastic.

Diplomatic Relations by KrazzeeAJ1701

Star Trek; Rated M; James T Kirk/Sybok; AU, Female James T. Kirk

Listen, I had a phase where I mostly read gender swap and I found some real gems - this being one of them. I don't re-read it as often as I should but every time I do I remember how much I like it and how fantastic the writing is. The set-up just makes sense and the progression of the story makes you want to keep reading forever.

the ghosts won't matter because we'll hide in sin by soapboxblues

A Song of Ice and Fire; Jaime Lannister/Lyanna Stark; AU

A cute little AU where Lyanna survives the Tower of Joy and is subsequently turned into a political pawn etc etc. Incredibly well-written and the pieces just fit together so well.

The Debt of Time by ShayaLonnie

Harry Potter; Rated E; Sirius Black/Hermione Granger; AU, Time Travel, Soul Bond

I must have read this at least 15 times by now. It just works so well, you know?

For One Last Day by fideliant

The Hobbit; General Audience; Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield; AU

"The things we don't do for love." It's so bittersweet and lovely and all those wonderful things that make me want to smile and cry at the same time. Sort of chances-not-taken and now we're old wrapped up in this little moment that fits so well into the canon of LOTR.

Eurybia by Annerb

Pirates of the Caribbean; Rated T; Elizabeth Swan/Will Turner; Jack Sparrow/Elizabeth Swan; AU

"A love story. Elizabeth Swan and the sea." Read it. Just do it. It's so so so good. And it's barely 1200 words so you can read it and then spend an hour contemplating what you just read and still have time to do other things.

#ifd2024 #international fanworks day

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ravenlking · 1 year

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𝐓𝐘𝐏𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐒

𝐊𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐌 𝐀𝐋-𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐌 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋 𝐕𝐈𝐏𝐄𝐑 beloved lovers they are, how would their lips kiss you?

gender-neutral warnings: none genre: fluff a/n: please give me feedback :)

Let me know if you'd like more!

Spiderman Kiss

Kalim often watches movies, with his status as the heir to the Al-Asim family, it was easy to purchase one of his likings and watch it the moment it comes out. Spiderman draws his attention, making because of how the superhero swings with his webs and flies around the neighborhood, something like how he does on his magic carpet.

He immediately raced to Ramshackle on his magic carpet, cheerfully calling your name. He watches as you make your way outside, a mischievous glint in his shining eyes before flipping him and the carpet upside down, trusting it to hold him.

A surprised squeal left your face as Kalim gently cupped your face before bringing it to his face, lips touching each other, the sensation like fireworks.

"That's so dangerous-"

"Hahaha! Let's do that again!"

Nose Kisses

Cuddles are a must in your relationship, so it came to no one's surprise when they saw their dorm leader and his significant other curled up in the Scarabia lounge. It practically happened on a daily basis (which makes Jamil's job slightly easier whenever he needs to find his irresponsible dorm leader). Kalim inhaled your scent, rubbing his nose on yours before pulling back. Watching your eyes widen with surprise made him laugh.

"Aww, you look adorable, my treasure!"

Cheek Kisses

No matter when or where, the moment Kalim's eyes catch sight of you, he'll immediately drop whatever he is holding and dash toward you. It doesn't matter if you're in the middle of a serious conversation with Riddle or running away from the Leech teens. He will briefly shout an apology to an exasperated Jamil but continues on his mission. A grin is set permanently on the cheerful boy's face as he bears hugs you, peppering cheek kisses all over your face.

He'll hop off the moment he senses you're about to fall before holding your cheeks and peppering them with kisses. Bonus if he's wearing lipstick because this boy is determined to cover your perfect face in his lipstick, showing off to everyone how gigantic his love is for you.

"Sorry not sorry!" Kalim grins before kissing you again on the forehead this time.

Neck Kisses

Sometimes, it astounds Jamil with how carefree you are, how unafraid of the potential of someone sneaking up behind you with malicious intent. Like today, only it isn't someone with malicious intent (or did he?)

Jamil smirked as he came closer to your still figure reading a book, a gentle smile on your face and the repetitive flips of the book made the atmosphere warm and comfortable. He held in his breaths as he crept closer before launching a kiss on your neck. You reacted instinctively, squealing and whirling around to meet your smirking attacker - none other than your darling boyfriend, Jamil Viper.

"Sorry, my jewel." Jamil didn't look that apologetic. "You were just so adorable, I couldn't resist."

Forehead Kisses

A sign of gratefulness and a quiet "thank you" from the tired boy, who wanted nothing more to crash on his bed and sleep for the next thousand years. However, fate wasn't on his side because he was dealing with Kalim's messes the entire day. From the time he woke up (Kalim cooked and blew up the kitchen) until not even five minutes ago (Kalim messed up the orderly layout of the treasury room), Jamil was constantly exhausted beyond belief.

It feels as if the weight of the world had been lifted when he finds you cleaning and cooking dinner for you two, setting up a nice dinner date in the balcony window. Jamil gives a heavy, loud sigh of relief before standing next to you, admiring your work. The chicken looks perfectly cooked and the vegetables glistened under the evening light. Jamil wants you to know that he loves you for doing this, popping a light kiss on your forehead before sitting down and eating his food.

"Thank you so much."

French Kisses

Sometimes, all Jamil wants to do is kiss you until you're red and breathless. He just wants to taste your intoxicating you, learn every part of the cavern that is your pretty little mouth that makes such addicting noises. Jamil tugs you closer, every inch of your bodies pressed against each other like you were a puzzle piece clicking together just right. As he kisses you, he inhales the scent that is so delectable and so uniquely you. Jamil Viper just loves you and wants to show it in the best way possible. And if you so happen to end on his bed, well...he'll simply smirk and continue.

"Shall we take this somewhere more...private?"

#jamil x you #jamil viper #kalim al asim #kalim x you #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #oneshots #twst fluff

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jump-wings · 3 months

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I'm thrilled to share my OC for @mercurygray 's Blind Dates OC Fest 2024! I decided to mix things up and dive into some darker vibe with my new OC. It was a fun challenge to incorporate elements from the Masters of the Air into my writing. It is about 2k word. There is no warning and spoiler from MotA. Hope you dig meeting Ana and Moonshadow! @blind-dates-fest

Near the Thorpe Abbotts Air Base in East Anglia, there is Moonshadow Hall, surrounded by massive dark green trees, where the sun, animals, insects, and even hope rarely visit, and where even the souls of people gather dust from inactivity. If you walk through the wooded area and along the dirt road, you'll come to the moss-covered, slippery, stone staircase of thirty-three steps leading up to Moonshadow. Climbing up the stairs and passing through the heavy wooden doors with the dark hue of walnut, you'll arrive at the vast entrance with its pallid green crying walls. Continuing on, if you follow the pale green corridors that have housed people who have known little of love for generations, you'll find yourself in a wide living room adorned with the same-colored walls as the corridors, filled with ancient, menacing-looking furniture and faded carpets. Despite its large windows, little light

enters this room, and if you look carefully, behind one of the grandiose chairs, leaning against the wall, arms wrapped around her knees, head buried in the space between her arms, you'll see Eliana Holloway. She was one of the middle children of the Holloway Family, who had lived in this ominous place where nobody else ventured for generations. She was mostly known as Ana. She had dark, deep brown eyes devoid of any emotion, inherited by everyone in the Holloway family for generations. She was sad, not caused by anything specific. It was a eternal sadness she thinks she was born with.

Even as new children were born, as they grew up, aged, or even died, Moonshadow, where time seemed to have somehow stopped, was on the verge of joining the great mansions opened for military use since the war began. Yet it still resisted to avoid falling to the army. It could remain as the only big estate in Britain untouched even by the second great war of the century. But somehow, the outside real life had begun to make itself known with windows rattling from the sounds of low-flying bombers. Those passing by were not just RAF planes anymore. Americans had also arrived.

Ana lifted her head. She looked at the windows rattled by the passing plane. Perhaps it was her uncle Robert Lucian Halloway’s plane passing by.

There was a legend in the village. It was said that there was only one Halloway. All born Halloways were a kind of reincarnation of him. Although each baby was born with its unique soul, the darkness of Moonshadow would kill their souls, and then, despite appearing in different forms, different genders, they would always remain the same person.

The first and only person to prove that this wasn't always the case for the village was Robert. He had left for college on a sunny day when the sun shone on Moonshadow, and never returned. Unlike the fate of all other Halloways who left for college or any other reason, the cursed atmosphere of the house couldn't draw him back. He managed to escape from Moonshadow. For the first few years after college, nobody from the family or the village knew where he was living, until a short letter containing information about him being an officer in the RAF was added to the breakfast table discussion like a new condiment.

Since then, he had visited Moonshadow for up to ten days a year.

Until now. Robert’s unit had been assigned to Thorpe Abbotts. It wasn't clear whether he would stay at the base or at home, but it was certain that they would see more of him this year. He was expected to arrive within the week.

The inhabitants of Moonshadow were creatures of the night, open to light. They were whispers confined within their own heads, walking the corridors of Moonshadow, mostly within the limits of its woods, forced to take refuge in the darkness of Moonshadow.

Apart from the postal carriers who brought letters, very rarely did anyone else visit Moonshadow. The news that Robert would bring with him two close friends from the RAF and three newly acquainted American pilots for dinner sent a shroud over the house's nocturnal creatures like a mist. It intensified the usual restlessness of the house.

"How could he do something so thoughtless? Without asking us? We are not ready in any way," Felicity, Ana's mother, was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. She paced around the living room, turning around, thinking aloud. The little children imitated their mothers, whispering things like "Yes, exactly," and nodding their heads.

Ana knew from the moment she heard the news that such an event would erupt in the house, and her mother would be dragged into a slow and resolute fit of anger. "Yes, Robert, how could you do something so thoughtless?" she thought to herself. She quickly glanced at the door of the room without her mother noticing. She had to slip away before becoming the target of her mother's anger. Her mother's voice was rising, her gestures becoming more aggressive as she spoke. Time was running out. All her nerves were on edge. Her mother started walking back towards the windows, grumbling. Now was the time. Ana sprang into action. With the speed of a hawk developed over the years, she slid out of the door with perfection. She couldn't go to her room; she would be found there. Without slowing down, she flew to the music room.

The music room was one of the most forgotten rooms in Moonshadow, seldom visited by anyone. In the middle of the room stood a piano from the beginning of the century, but as far as Ana knew, nobody in the house currently knew how to play it. Ana pressed her foot onto the cracked leather seat of the piano, trying not to touch the keys of the untuned piano as she climbed on top of it. She couldn't afford to make a sound and risk being caught. She stretched out on the cold, dusty wood. She began to hum the limited songs she had heard throughout her twenty years of life. The ghosts of the silent, forgotten melodies of the grand music box filled the room.

Leaving her mother in such a situation and fleeing no longer seemed difficult to Ana. In fact, there was a toxic sense of satisfaction deep inside her. Since childhood, she had tasted her mother's dissatisfaction in every way possible. Once her mother got angry, which happened quite often, her anger grew and turned into a bundle of complaints, threats, and a hatred towards everyone and everything, and if someone dared to respond to her or tried to calm her down, it would turn into an endless fight.

It was indifference. It was a trait Ana had secretly developed without noticing. She had been horrified when she first realized that she didn't care about her mother's feelings. She had felt like the worst person in the world. But now, she was indifferent even to that feeling of horror.

Ana's mother and three servants spent a week trying to restore Moonshadow to its former glory. Everything was cleaned and rearranged under Ana's mother's supervision. The rooms have been rearranged to accommodate strangers, with Moonshadow's most unworn-looking furnitures.

The creatures of the night emerged from their shadows, descended the stairs, and awaited the arrival of the strangers, donning their best attire. The whole family was as tense and stern as Ana's grandfather, Victor Halloway, in the photograph taken while he was waiting in the trenches during the Great War. The enemies were approaching.

The heavy walnut doors opened with the reluctance of the creatures of the night, and the strangers entered the house. Their black, polished, Oxford-style low-heeled lace-up shoes echoed on the ancient wooden floors, waking them with a groan.

The strangers were ushered into the room prepared for the reception before dinner. Robert politely introduced the strangers to the family members. As small talk ensued, appetizers were eaten, and drinks were consumed, the pilots began to take on personalities.

Ross and Tristan were young RAF pilots. They had met Robert on the first day of their training, and they had been friends ever since. They were both from Norflok.

Americans Buck and Bucky, didn't resemble each other in appearance or personality as much as their names suggested. Buck was blond, while Bucky was a brunette. Buck didn't drink, but Bucky did. Buck was quiet and serious, whereas Bucky was playful and talkative. Biddick had a sincere smile. His eyes were a blue mixture of determination and the kindness of an angel.

Ana watched her father converse with two of the guests near fireplace. It turned out that Thomas Halloway wasn't as incapable of putting two words together as she had thought. Ana sat silently on the couch with her cousins George and Beatrice, who were a few years older than her. While the adults of the house - her mother, aunt, grandfather, and another uncle - managed to engage in conversation somehow, they seemed invisible.

Ana felt like the most pitiful kind of creature of the night. She was like a transparent creature living in a loneliness unknown to anyone else, dwelling in the depths where nobody knew. She discovered that she didn't know how to adapt to talking to people, didn't even know how to start a conversation with someone, and didn't even have the strength to talk to the guests in her own home.

As she brought the glass to her lips, a new kind of hatred spread within her. This hatred fed on the cruel distinction between family members who could and couldn't converse. Until that moment, Ana hadn't realized how much she and her cousins had been raised behind closed doors. Everyone in the family was disconnected from life outside Moonshadow, but it seemed that some family members had created this loneliness for themselves, while others were born into it.

Ana decided to fight. She wouldn't surrender. She stood up. She thought going to her uncle and his friends, Biddick and Bucky, was the right choice. As she approached them, she suddenly felt all her courage leap out of the window. She changed her course and headed for the table where the drinks were. Why did I do this now? Everyone will think I'm weird. As she filled her glass with something, she glanced around the room without anyone noticing. Nobody seemed to have noticed. I can do this. I can go to near them. I want to do this. I can.

Leaving the drink table with the glass she held onto like a lifeline, she headed to where her uncle and his friends were talking. She stood silently beside them, beginning to listen to their conversation. She couldn't lift her eyes from the ground. She couldn't remember ever feeling so tense in her life. Her knuckles had turned white from gripping the glass tightly, and her teeth had started to ache from clenching them together. She couldn't follow the conversation, couldn't understand anything that was being said until her uncle asked for permission and left. Watching her uncle leave, Ana felt like a child abandoned in the middle of the street. Alone in the midst of dangers.

"Really big house," Biddick said cheerfully to Ana. The two pilots had turned to Ana after Robert left, trying to start a conversation with her.

Ana scanned the room as if seeing her own house for the first time. Her aim was to gain some time. She tried to think of something to say in return. Whatever she said had to be normal. It shouldn't be silly, condescending, or boastful; it shouldn't offend him or make him angry. But the more she tried to think of something to say, the emptier her mind became. She felt she had to say something now. With a forced polite smile, she said the first thing that came to her mind. "Yes, it is," she said, immediately lowering her head towards her glass.

I hope he doesn't ask another question, but I hope he does. She felt both a strong desire to engage in conversation with the pilots and a desire to disappear right then and there. Biddick decided he needed to say something to keep the conversation going.

You bet it is, Ana wanted to silence her inner voice.

"Yes, indeed," she almost whispered. She couldn't bring herself to look into the pilots' eyes again. The young man shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He thought the girl didn't want to talk to him. He didn't want to bother her any further. Had he said something stupid? He decided not to prolong it.

While Ana wondered if he would say something else, she held her breath without even realizing it. The young man didn't say anything else to her; he said something to his friend. In the meantime, her uncle's return provided her with a few seconds of relief. She was filled with a deep sense of self-pity.

She had really wanted to talk to the pilots. But she had missed her chance; it was over now. That's how she felt. She thought she had bothered him. She had made him feel bad about himself. She cursed herself inwardly. The feeling of self-pity turned into anger directed at herself. What a clumsy person she was. She couldn't put two words together. How stupid she was. Muttering "Excuse me," she walked away from them. She left the sweet light emanating from the lamp in the room. She disappeared into the dark corridors of Moonshadow.

#blind dates oc fest 2024 #masters of the air #john egan #curtis biddick #buck cleven #to find #masters of the air oc

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youlikefanficdontyousquidward · 1 year

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Why so blue?

Prologue, one, two, three, four, five, six, seven

tag list: @luciddasher @seashelldom @goblinerrant @belos-simp69 @d4rno

Chapter Eight

Beep boop action scenes are hard. Trying to maintain a gender neutral reader, please let me know if there's anything I can do to help with that. I think other than the earlier mention of the Na'vi word for mother I've done well.

Quaritch didn't know the last time he'd felt so content. You sat relaxed by his side, Spider to his left chatting away and his squad under his control. His only want was for Jake Sully's head, then everything would be perfect.

The fires heat had made you remove your shawl, Quaritch admired the sparkling dots that littered your shoulders. Lyle kept his eyes to Mansk and Zdog, obeying Quaritch's order and then some.

Spider began humming a tune, tapping his feet to an upbeat melody. Your voice joined in, adding lyrics to this song. Miles didn't know it, must have been in Na'vi though he couldn't pick out many lyrics. To his surprise however Zdog began drumming along, using the butt of her knife against an empty tin. You sang beautifully, Quaritch was enchanted, unable to tear his gaze away from your moving lips.

You stood passing him to stand in front of Spider, who feigned some resistance but allowed himself to be pulled up, grinning the whole time. You lead him forward, placing a raised fore arm to his, you began stepping in circles. The dance wasn't too hard to follow, and by the end of the song Miles felt he knew the steps. Zdog stood, passing off her 'drum' to Lyle to keep going.

You stood together, her teaching you a snaking hip movement. You followed easily, Zdog leaving to call Mansk to join her and hauling him off the ground when he didn't. You laughed lightly, singing another tune as you swayed and twisted silhouetted in the fire light.

Spider flopped down next to him again, Slightly out of breath. "You should get up there." He smiled, raising his eyebrows. Quaritch looked stunned but Spider just laughed at him. "I'll push!"

Miles stood and walked to you. He felt like a teenager, about to ask his crush out. Palms sweating and throat tightening. He thought with years worth of experience in memory he wouldn't feel so nervous. You continued swaying, turning to him, smiling lightly. At least you seemed to be equally blushing, your ears and tail twitching as your voice wavered slightly. He followed his memorized steps, dancing with you the way you'd done with Spider. You relaxed into it, changing the moves slightly to be closer to him. Shifting round to dance with your back pressed to his chest. He felt too hot but he couldn't leave your side, he didn't want this moment to end but it did.

Mansk began yelling, swinging his gun up to point out at the water. Miles pulled you behind him, drawing his own weapon and staring out into the inky water for the threat. The river flowing gently, he saw nothing churn the water, save the few larger rocks that broke the surface.

You gripped his bicep before pointing out. "There!" You whispered to him. He saw it now, the size of a bus, scaled and swimming fast towards them, spines cutting a smooth path. Spider was near, a few meters to his side, close to Lyle and the banshees. Zdog and Mansk where on his other side, guns readied.

The creature broke the surface, its momentum allowing it to leap into the air before crashing down in the middle of your semi circle. It was massive. Huge body dousing the flames, throwing the surroundings into their glowing state. Miles would have called it a crocodile. It was several times the size but with a very similar jaw and teeth. again just several times bigger. It's six legs where short and muscular and its tail was long, thin and ended in a spiked ball, like a medieval mace. It's body was an inky black, making it hard to see unless in front of the glowing shrubbery. Only its spines held a deep blood red colour.

He opened fire, aiming around its nose and eyes, hoping these parts wouldn't be as strongly protected. The other recoms followed suit, muzzles flashing light up the creature as it roared and reared back. It lunged suddenly towards Zdog and Mansk, who rolled under its bite. The sound its jaw made when it's teeth clashed together rivaled the gunshots.

Its long tail whipped towards him. He gripped the back of your neck, bringing you down to the ground with him. The banshees screeched, taking flight to avoid the beast, roaring up at them. It stood on it's hind legs to try reaching for them, snapping at the lowest flying ones. Lyle shot at it's exposed underbelly, finally seeming to draw blood. The creature screeched, flailing back, its tail thrashing around wildly. It struck Spider and sent him hurling back into the mud, before it slipped back into the water.

You scrambled up, running towards Spider's prone form. Quaritch kept his gun trained on the water a few more moments. The creature seemed to have fled, and the banshees had settled landing back down again. He followed over to Spider.

You had him cradled on your lap, wiping muck away from his torso. Quaritch's breath caught in his throat. Two large gashes ran across his chest, they were shallow, hardly bleeding but Spider wasn't conscious. You'd began raking through you're bag desperately, mumbling quickly to yourself.

"What is it? What's wrong with him." Miles felt his concern growing more every moment Spider's eyes remained closed. The hit was hard sure but not enough to leave him like this, not without hitting his head?

"Poison, it's barbs are poisonous!" You were frantic, openly crying as you kept searching. "I don't have it, I don't have anything to help." Miles felt cold, Zdog leaned forward.

"We gotta get him back to base, they've got everything, they fix him." Zdog was right, they kept anti-venoms for every creature on this planet. Accept even flying they were a day's ride from any base.

"How long does he have? Y'N! how long?" He had to kneel down to you, gripping your shoulder to get you to pay him attention.

"Hours, maybe less, I've never seen a human affected by this before." You were just holding him now, bag abandoned. His breath was quickening and a thin layer of sweat coated him.

"The tree..." You stopped, turning to grip Mile's arms. "We have to get him to the tree. Please." You looked pleadingly, lip quivering. Miles paused a moment, you meant the spirit tree, a sacred place, you wouldn't allow the others to come, hell he wasn't sure how close he'd be permitted. It could be a trick, to get him alone and attempt an escape but Miles didn't care. You wouldn't risk Spider's life, he could trust that.

"Come on." He took Spider from you, carrying him in his arms towards Cupcake. He felt so small in his arms, like he'd felt when he was still just a baby. He was so limp though, cold and pale. Nothing like his memory of his pink new born body. You followed along with him, mounting behind him. Wrapping arms around his waist.

"Follow that stream, the red ferns..." You were still panicking, your mind racing and making it hard to keep from speaking your mother tongue.

"I'll radio in, follow if I've not radioed by 0900." Miles ordered Zdog, she'd followed after you, taking her hand left from your shoulder to salute and Miles thought his commands to Cupcake.

He felt Cupcake's concern as well as his own as he flew. His own unsteady breathes echoing through his ikrans chest. The route he followed brought you both closer to the chemical spills, the plants loosing colour and density as you went. From up high it was easiest seen in the lack of light given off, as the living mosses that lit up the forest floors died in the sour waters.

He felt your body rack with sobs against his back. He couldn't think, he had to focus on getting you there, something there must be able to save him. He couldn't loose him now, he'd only just won him back

He could have missed the dead tree. No light shone from its almost empty branches. He remembered photos of the place from his human life. It'd once been very similar to the tree of souls the forest clans had. Shorter but wider, like a willow, it had glowed the same purplish pink. Though that colour had faded and gotten more reddish as the water poisoned, before going dark. He'd never thought of it again until now, it was some savages stupid tree several clicks from any concern of his. Now here he was hoping against all odds that it would help.

You dismounted before Cupcake had even touched down. Reaching up to take Spider from him. He moved him gently into your arms, following after as you walked quickly to under the tree. You laid him gently at the root, before burying your hand in the deep roots. Miles hovered back, he wanted to come closer to hold Spider but it felt wrong to him. To even be this close, he felt at any moment you'd hiss him away, even dead this was an intensely important place to you.

You pulled out a carved wooden box, humming as you searched its contents.

"Miles please..." You held your hand out to him. eyes still down and searching with your other hand. He was over in a few strides, kneeling by Spider's side and putting his hand in yours. Your head flicked up and to your joined hands. You moved his hand to Spider's chest.

"How is he?" You opened a jar sniffing it before beginning whatever preparations you needed. Miles felt his neck for his pulse.

"His hearts hammerin', he's so cold, shakin'." He heard his voice quivering. He was trying so hard to keep it together, he didn't want you to see him weak. You moved to your human boy now, spreading something bitter smelling across his chest. You brought a strange spouted bowl to his mouth, pouring its contents in, then tipping Spider's head back to swallow it. You felt his forehead with your own now, hands still shaking against his cheeks.

You began whispering prayers, voice shaking. Tears still fell gently, dropping down into the mud beneath you. Miles waited by Spider's side, his breath still rapid. He felt anger rising in him, was this it? Was this all that could be done? Some back water witch doctoring!? He was going to start yelling when a flash caught his eye.

The roots around Spider strobed, light pulsing towards his form. He groaned, you grabbed his hand.

"Ma Spider?" You called to him. Miles watched as the roots close to his neck moved, tiny white tendrils shifted out binding around one another into a tight rope. It snaked to connect to where Spider's skull would meet his spine. Miles reached out.

"The hell are these things" He wanted to brush them off. This strange plant intended to grow into his son.

"No no!" You held his hand, stopping it. "she's helping, let her help." You looked him in the eye, you seemed so sure that he relented, pulling his hand back. You moved your braid in front of you, following down it's length to reveal the swirling tendrils of your queue. You placed it down on the root connected to Spider.

Miles watched your pupils dilate before your eyes fluttered shut. You smiled, tears still falling and reached out to touch Spider's face. He groaned again though he sounded less pained this time. You opened your eyes and looked over to him. Miles felt confused, this whole situation was beyond him but whatever was happening was helping Spider so he could live with it. You reached up to cup his cheek, your thumb moving across under his eye. He hadn't noticed when he'd started to cry, he just scoffed turning his head away from you. Your hand remained however, gentle stroking before moving behind to hold the base of his queue.

Miles breath hitched, the strange alien feeling of your hand running down the length of it as you brought it forward. It was so sensitive even through the braid. Your thumb pushed lightly at the base to expose his own tendrils before you moved it towards the root.

Quaritch snapped out of the moment. Pulling his queue from you, throwing it behind his back again.

"Don't you. ." You began.

"No." He interrupted. He did not want to do whatever this was. He'd let his thing save his son if he had too but he was not going to connect his brain to this half dead zombie tree god.

Your shoulders slumped slightly, you took your own queue from the root before gently stroking hair from Spider's face.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You weren't sure you would ever stop crying at this rate. Between fear and worry for Spider then elation at the anti-venom still being there you'd been exhausted from the emotional highs and lows. To top it all off the spirits of your people had awaken to assist you, accepting Spider as their own and connecting him to Eywa. You connected yourself, feeling her, feeling the echos of the past then Spider himself. It was fuzzy clearlystill affected by the poisoned waters. He was there though, with your parents, with your teacher, with all life that ever there was. Your son, finally connected the way he'd dreamed he could.

You wanted to share this with Miles. It felt right to have him here, he had every claim to Spider as you did. He was different now too, you could feel it. He sat here with you under in the heart of your home, in the most sacred place. He'd been hesitate to join you, treading respectively over the roots, but he'd pulled away. Rejecting communion with Eywa. You supposed it was likely just too far a step, too soon in his journey for that moment. Still he stayed by Spider's side as his breathing slowed to a restful pace. You poured water from his canteen into a bowl and began to wipe the sweat from Spider. His stripes were all but gone now and you made note to reapply them when he woke. From what you'd felt when connected it wouldn't be too long, by morning most likely and you'd said so to Miles.

He stood outside the boundaries of the tree now, where he'd gone to 'radio in'. He'd touched the thing around his neck and spoke to Mansk. Jake had one, so had Norm, they'd used them to speak from great distances. You'd liked the idea of having one for Spider and yourself but never asked. He stayed there now, looking around with his hand on the top of his gun, keeping a watch. Spider was clean and just resting now, so you shifted to kneel by the roots. There had been many treasures kept here, important medicines, personal artifacts of your teacher and your fingers grazed what you'd searched for.

You stepped out to join Miles, he didn't turn to you.

"He rests now, we're safe here. No thing can harm another here." Miles sighed looking back to say something. It didn't make it out however as he just stared at you. Suddenly bashful, you rocked on your heals making the skirt sway. You'd found your ceremonial garb, the one made for when you'd grown up. You'd never had the opportunity to wear it before now, though you remembered feeling the fabric in your tiny hands. The top was ridged lacing gold, it swirled patterns across your chest like creeper plants. Small jewel beads where woven into the ends of each stem, more concentraited at the high choker like neck. The skirts were long, to the ankle and white, with high slits right up to the top of your thigh. The belt was patterned with shining turquoise stones. You'd even found the earrings, beaded headdress and nose ring to match. It felt too much now, you tugged at the skirt and fiddled with the earrings. This was for ceremony, yours or any you would be called upon to perform.

"I was to wear this when I became Tsahìk..." You felt silly now, maybe you should just take it off. Miles reached out to you though, fingers meeting your arm, before traveling up. By your shoulder he'd placed his whole hand on you and the other had joined it on your other side. You looked into his eyes, they were half lidded, his face relaxed.

"You look..." He trailed off, hand coming up to cup your cheek. His eyes fell to your lips and he stopped, waiting. With a sudden rush of courage you closed the gap. letting your lips meet.

It'd been a long time since you'd kissed another and it'd been barely more than a peck. This was different, though you'd began slowly Miles had quickly deepened this kiss. His fingers tangled into your hair, tilting your head up and tugging you closer. You trailed your hands up his sides, letting them rest on his shoulders. He stopped suddenly, your mouth chasing after his slightly but he wasn't gone long. He lifted you up, hands behind your knees. You squealed. wrapping your legs around his waist for balance. He laughed at your response before diving back to you. His tongue grazed your lip, you parted them letting him in. It was intoxicating the way he kissed, like nothing you'd ever experienced before. You let your hands roam, across his broad chest, up his neck, into his hair. It felt nicer than you'd imagines, the close cropped hair like velvet. You felt Miles groan into your mouth, you gave it an experimental tug. His head rolled back as he groaned, smirking he looked back to you.

"You don't know what your doing to me sweetheart." You smiled leaning in to kiss him again. He moved to sit, keeping you straddled across his lap. His hands were free to move now and he wasted no time, exploring your body. Griping and pinching as he went, eliciting moans from you when he touched someplace sensitive.

The movement was quick, he tugged your kuru round in front of you and made to connect it with his own. You jumped up suddenly, taking quick paces back to create space.

"No! no, you can't do that!" Your voice between a whisper and a shout. You didn't want to disturb Spider but you needed him to understand the importance of what he almost did.

"I just thought..." He trailed off, still sat there with his own kuru in his hands. You held yours to your chest.

"You don't, You didn't think! This is sacred, sacred! Do you understand, you can't just! It's so important and you only do it once and..." You struggled to convey yourself properly in English, stumbling over your words unable to find just the right ones to explain it.

"Right. Don't touch." Miles dropped his kuru now crossing his arms. You didn't think he understood you, not properly. You stepped back over to him.

"Can touch here..." You took his hand again in your own, guiding it to your face, "Here..." You brought his palm down your neck to your chest again. His breath quickened again, eyes growing dark with something you couldn't place . "here" You moved his hand back to your hip again. He ran his fingers against the base of your tail making you shudder.

"Here?" He questioned back, running his fingers down to its base again. You just nodded swiftly, feeling like your voice would betray you somehow. He pulled you in closer again, resting his head against your stomach, breathing in your scent.

"Well alright then." He smiled against you. You dropped your hand to his scalp again, massaging it.

You spent most the night like this, gently caressing one another, staying close. Miles seemed to be trying to take it slower with you now. Laying down under the tree again and holding you tucked in beside him. You relaxed into him, feeling safer here than you had in weeks. You closed your eyes and slept.

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