#ANON IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG (and its not even the exact expression akdjhas) BUT I HOPE THIS WILL DO

[spinyax]

not sure if you're still doing the expression memes but four the rainbowdoodles one could you do D2 with jay ferin ? smile

hey who made her cry i just wanna talk 🔪

[fandomlit]

airbenders (aang x reader)

requested by anon “Aang x Girl!Reader fic where she’s from an air bender family that survived the attack? I love you ATLA work 🥰🥰” + “can you do another thing for aang? i love my under appreciated king 🥺”

summary the gaang runs into you, an airbender part of the last surviving airbender clan. aang finds home in that small community, and in you especially.

gif cred belongs to @kataara​

“do tornadoes just... appear and disppear?”

katara and aang looked up from their map to see sokka staring into the distance.

“i don’t think so,” katara said slowly, aang shaking his head in agreement. they all stared intensely into the distance. and after a minute of not blinking, dust began to rise and whip, and suddenly there was tornado whipping around a field a little ways away. but just as soon as it appeared, the dust settled back onto the ground.

“wind doesn’t do that naturally,” aang declared, rising from his crouch and grasping his staff. 

“it’s man made,” toph confirmed, touching a hand to the ground. “the way it rises... i’ve only felt you do that, twinkle toes.”

“aang,” katara said warily, standing and placing a hand on his shoulder, “is it possible that airbenders survived the attack?”

“we have to go find out, don’t we?” aang asked rhetorically with a furrowed brow, unfolding the wings of his staff in a simple flick of the wrist. he took off toward where another, bigger tornado was forming.

“appa, yip yip!”

as aang neared closer and closer, he felt the air of the tornado begin to pull him in. but he stayed determined, letting the tornado finally suck him into its hold and resisted the flow of the air to finally touch the ground it was formed at. the tornado dispersed when he planted on the ground, momo swooping in to land on his shoulder. he looked around the now cleared land, only seeing fields for miles. when he finally turned to his left, he jumped at the sight of a girl in a fighting position, hands raised flat in front of her.

“who are you?” she asked strongly. she ignored appa as he touched down next to aang. “where did you get that bison?”

“you’re not.. surprised by him?” aang asked, turning his body to his flying companion.

the girl narrowed her eyes. then she closed them and dropped her hands to her sides. then she turned around to walk away.

“wait! where are you going?” aang called after her.

“that’s not our bison.”

“our?” katara asked as she hopped down from appa’s saddle. the girl glanced over her shoulder.

“our,” she nodded. she looked over their group. “you’re the avatar, aren’t you?”

“yes,” aang confirmed, expression serious.

the girl turned back around. “my name is y/n. my family is one of the only few that survived the devastation of firelord sozin.”

“there are airbenders living?!” sokka asked, jaw dropping.

“yes,” she nodded. “we keep a closed society. if you would like, we could give you shelter for the night.”

the gaang all looked to each other. toph spoke, “im sold.”

aang looked back to the girl. “can you take us there?”

she waved a hand and turned back around. “follow me.” aang ran to walk by her side.

“those were some impressive tornadoes,” he complimented. she offered him a small smile. “how’d you learn to bend like that?”

“my great grandfather was a monk and master at the western air temple,” she explained, looking over to the avatar. “tornado making was his “signature move” of sorts; passed down through my family to now. unfortunately, he was lost in sozin’s attack.”

“im sorry,” aang sighed sadly, shaking his head. “how did your family survive?”

“my grandparents and others were on their way to the eastern air temple for an annual meeting. but when arrived, it had been destroyed.” aang closed his eyes and dropped his head. “when he flew back home, it was gone, too. they had no choice but to start a new society here.” she gestured a hand ahead of them, and the gaang looked to see a small city tucked between two looming mountains, a little ways away.

“how many airbenders are here?” aang asked, looking anxiously to the city’s high walls.

“out of our thirty population, only seven,” she answered. “we’re a dying breed.” aang lowered his head solemnly. y/n placed a warm, comforting hand on his shoulder. “it was not your fault, avatar. and we do not blame you.”

he looked up at her. seeing her soft yet determinedly kind eyes, he was able to manage a smile. and possibly a little blush, too. “call me aang.”

she nodded, giving him a smile in return. it would have been a heartwarming moment if sokka had not yelled out, “and im sokka!” y/n turned to be introduced to the rest of the gaang and their stories.

when they entered the city walls, a strong man stepped forward, a teary-eyed woman by his side. “y/n, we’ve been worried sick! where did you go?” when aang stepped in, as well, all eyes were on him.

y/n placed her hand on aang’s shoulder again. “my fellow air nomads, i present to you, the avatar.” gasps resounded around the gathered village people. aang gulped as he looked around. but when he met her proud smile, all of his anxiety was lost in a single breath.

after a meet and greet around a communal bonfire, aang had been shown the house him and his friends would stay in as long as they needed. he had lost y/n at some point in the night, and he felt slightly guilty about it. but he brushed off the thought of her and instead focused on getting some sleep.

that didn’t bode well.

two nightmares in, aang gave up. he kicked his blankets off with a low growl. he tiptoed around his friends and out the back of the small house, bending air to float himself onto the wall that lined the city. he decided to walk along it and enjoy the night air until he either wore himself out or had some other idea.

his head was finally starting to clear when he heard soft music erupting. he looked around quickly, seeing a light in a barn type building near him. he floated himself off the wall and jogged over. 

he peeked through the door before he entered, and saw the exact girl he had lost earlier that evening.

y/n stood with a small instrument in her hands, blowing air and moving her fingers as flying bison settled in bales and on blankets all over the barn. aang spotted appa next to her, nuzzling into her leg. she peeked open an eye and offered him a smile, letting go of the instrument to reach a hand down and pet him. she used one hand to keep the instrument floating, moving her fingers as if she were still playing it. the music continued.

“you don’t have to stand in the doorway,” she spoke, barely peeking over her shoulder at aang. “it’s warmer where the bison are.” he let out a sheepish laugh and stepped in, looking all around as he approached her and his companion.

“are you good with animals?” he questioned, clasping his hands behind his back nervously.

she nodded, looking up at him. “oddly so.”

“i don’t think it’s odd,” aang shrugged, offering her a crooked smile. she returned it with a small laugh. aang looked back to the floating instrument and to her hand controlling it. “you really are an impressive bender.”

“thank you, aang,” she hummed, raising the hand bending air through the instrument. “do you know this song?”

he went silent, leaning forward slightly to listen to the soft air coming from the instrument. after a moment, it clicked. he sang, “above black eagles wheeling.”

she giggled and continued, “all of a sudden swooping.”

“my little baby stealing,”

“sleep, little baby, sleep.”

“above black eagles soaring,”

“a crown of pearls left lying,”

“your stupid father snoring,” aang finished. they both laughed. “i didn’t know they still sang that.”

“i didn’t think you’d know it,” she returned, giggling. 

“know it? im pretty sure it originated in my temple!”

they spent another two hours together in that barn, sharing stories of their people and of themselves. aang managed to rest when he returned to the house, a smile on his face and hers fresh in his mind. he was finally awoken just after sunrise by the rustling of his friends packing.

“we’re leaving?” aang asked groggily, standing up and rubbing his eyes.

“we have to keep moving if we wanna get to ba sing se,” sokka sighed, tucking a map into his bag. aang lowered his gaze. sokka walked to his friend, placing a hand on his shoulder. “i know you wanna stay longer, but now we know we have a place to come back to. any time. and if you want, you can bring something along with you to remind you of... ‘home’, or whatever.” katara glared at him.

“that was almost nice.”

“what?!”

“you just had to add the whatever?”

aang nodded anyway. then an idea clicked in his head. “i know what to bring.”

“go get it,” katara encouraged with a smile and a nod, and aang sprinted out the door. he raced around the town for a solid ten minutes before seeing y/n stoking the breakfast fire. 

“y/n!” she turned around with a start. she smiled when she saw aang. but before she could say anything, aang called out, “come with me!”

[pfreadsandwrites]

congratulations on 100+ followers!!🥺❤️✨ bless you and your quality content ahhhh and thats a really good list of prompts there i actually had trouble picking one... but, since im truly a sucker for angst at heart, can i please have a number 15 with Kakashi?👀 please hurt me lmao thank you, and congrats once again!❤️

100 follower celebration

Yes, i used this mangacap. 

Anyway, ahh @enchantedpendant, I’m so sorry I’ve kept you waiting so long for this! I know you expressed excitement over me writing something angsty way back when I first began the celebration event and ugh I’m just sorry it’s taken so long. And thank you for your support as well. You’ve been so amazing and encouraging right from the start and I’m so grateful :) I really hope you like this... if ‘like’ is the correct word.

Oh - also, to the anon that also requested this exact prompt (great minds think alike, huh?) I’m planning on writing a different version for you! But yours is the penultimate or last one so I’m hoping this’ll tide you over in the meantime! 

This is my first piece after being unable to write for a while - forgive me if it’s rusty. I worked hard on this but I also struggled to all hell with it. It’s a circular-ish/montage-y piece. And I could have made it short, focusing on the scene itself, but I wanted this to have an emotional impact, ya know? I hope it worked! Please let me know what you think. Or if there are any mistakes.

warnings: character death, angst, miscarriage, sad feels all around, female reader, mild violence and sex mentions but nothing explicit, 2.9k

taglist: @madaras-housewife @datblobbyfish @praisingkuroosbedhead @allthingskakashi @enchantedpendant @ibukiirisha @cinam00n @feelingsandemotionsnotexplored @tachibrii @drunkenfists

15. “Don’t die on me - please.”

Why did it always feel too soon, each time he let you go?

You remember it, the first time it happened. 

How could you not? Little, insignificant, as it might have been to some - to him, if he could convince himself - to you, it was momentous. Lasting only a second, where his calloused fingers had brushed against yours, softer than his, yes, but no less enduring. The normally aloof eye, the only one he seemed to show without hesitation, was intent, the obsidian endless in its depth. 

But - out of courtesy to him, or some kind of self-preservation - you’d paid it no mind. Or kept up that pretence, anyway. You found your footing as quickly as you’d lost it, stumbling away from his support no matter how reluctant you were to do so. The gratitude you’d muttered was enough and it seemed like you’d made the right choice; when that quietly shrewd eye of his turned away from you and his strong hands let you go in the same movement. He never let you bask in your own clumsiness, but that somehow made you feel worse. His nonchalance was excruciating. As if he hadn’t just saved you and made it look effortless. As if his touch alone hadn’t frozen you in place. 

As if it never happened at all. 

(It never should have happened at all.)

But still, you remember it. The moon’s luminosity the perfect backdrop, illuminating that wild silver hair as he turned away from you. 

(It was all so disgustingly poetic.)

It took longer than it should have for you to turn away in kind. But you did. Eventually. You made the awkward trek back to camp before him, the internal rambling of your self-berating your only company. It grew louder each time you looked back, stealing little glances against your own will.

It was so loud that you didn’t notice much else.

Not even Kakashi stealing glances back at you, for instance. 

***

Why did your breath hitch,  even when the air had never been more tranquil?

You remember. 

How he always did that, you still don’t know. Perfect timing, though you never appreciated just how perfect until he was gone again. 

(You should have learnt to count your blessings.)

Without a trace, and so quickly, unceremoniously, that the entire encounter might well have been a mirage. It still might have been.

(Maybe it’d been better that way.)

 You’d had enough. You didn’t think it through much further, and your desperation triumphed over your cautiousness as you sought out the bar exit. The mission, against all odds, was a success. And, against all better judgement, you were dragged along to the accompanying celebration. The atmosphere should have been infectious, you should have smiled more, you should have enjoyed yourself. 

Then again, you couldn’t find much to celebrate. Mistakes - your mistakes - had piled up. Your team completed the mission despite you, not because of you. The liability, not the heroine. 

(In hindsight, would it really have been so terrible if things ended for you there?)

You’d exhaled dramatically as you made your escape, a feeble attempt to expel all the guilt and shame you’d retained, or tried to retain, up until now. 

You still remember the lilt of his voice, smooth and somehow jovial, but never losing that gravelly undertone, as you walked around the corner. How could you ever forget it? No matter how lax he sounded, or tried to sound, the severity lurking underneath always cut you deep.

Are you alright, he’d asked, already knowing the answer. With that signature one-eyed smile, he pretended to believe your response. And you pretended, in turn, that his smile didn’t have had the effect on you it did. 

You didn’t exchange that many words as he walked you home, but somehow, it was enough. Though he was always careful with what he revealed, it was enough. He understood - much more than he let on, you suspected - but it was enough.

You didn’t hate yourself quite as much anymore, and - well, it wasn’t too much of a stretch - it didn’t seem like he hated you either. Something in the way his hand squeezed your shoulder, lingering for a moment, just before he saw you off. Was he reluctant to let go? 

Maybe. 

You slept better that night. 

You’d find out later, that, miraculously, Kakashi did too. 

***

Why did you feel so secure, sharing in all that suffering?

You remember.

(Why had you been so stupid?)

You’d almost dropped your flowers, when you saw him standing there, facing the memorial stone. It shouldn’t have been shocking; you’d heard gossip, in passing, about how much time he spent here. You’d also heard, in passing, how late he tended to be. Putting two and two together, you never held the latter against him. 

You understood, after all. You'd understood all the more as your eyes bore into his back. Something in the way he curled and uncurled his fists, the way he sighed, the way his straightened back gradually hunched. 

As far back as you could recall, your attitude to graveyards was… ambivalent. You’d avoid them whenever you could, not out of any tendency to be spooked or anything like that. You just couldn’t bring yourself to leave. It was peaceful, to be immersed somewhere so solemn, with such dense air - but the gravity of it also chained your feet there like an anchor. You knew each time you were there, regardless of your own volition, wouldn’t be the last. So if anyone were to empathise with this particular way he chose to punish himself, it was you.

(And now you would take it on twofold in his stead. What a joke.) 

“You don’t often come here,” he’d said quietly, matter-of-factly. Devoid of judgement, though he didn’t bother to face you. 

“No. I probably don’t spend as much time here as I should…,” your voice trailed off, and found new confidence, when you watched him stare at that stone. Hopelessly. You didn’t know all the details. But you didn’t need to. All you knew that it was simultaneously frustrating and pitiful. “And you probably spend too much.”

This time, he glanced back over his shoulder. You couldn’t exactly see through his mask, but he seemed… amused? “How do you figure that?”

“Call it a hunch.”

He chuckled, satisfied, and stepped back to give you room. “Then, I guess we balance each other out.”

“What a pair we are.” 

“Right. Well, I better-“

You still don’t know why you decided to grab his wrist that day, when he turned to leave. You still don’t know why you couldn’t bring yourself to let go, either. 

You still don’t know why Kakashi decided to stay. 

***

Why did you flit so rapidly from anger to elation, and why was it always because of him?

You remember.

In hindsight, it had been your fault. 

(What the fuck else was new?)

Retreat. Get out of here. It had been a simple order. But it had felt impossible, when the enemy appeared from behind, jutsu blaring, its raw power visible, that disgusting snarl on its wielders’ face - aiming for him.

You didn't think. You couldn’t think. You leapt in front of the attack within seconds, and your plan ended there. 

The same couldn’t be said for your captain. With his signature finesse, with a rare scowl - you couldn't tell who it was aimed at - you were moved away, and the enemy deflected, in the same movement. 

The battle had come to an end shortly after, through no fault of your own. It took all you had, but you bit your tongue as he scolded you, in front of your comrades, quietly healing your wound. 

You had acted for his sake. 

(How futile.)

Apparently, that meant nothing to him, not even worthy of acknowledgement. It wasn’t like you had expected gratitude - but for a man known for his stoicism to blow up, and because of you - it made you livid in turn. 

The journey back had been silent, seemingly just so you could bask in your own shame. 

So, when you were back in the sanctuary of your home, nursing your injury, your failure, and your pride - you hadn’t expected to hear a knock.

Nor had you expected him. Headband missing, brow furrowed and glaring at you in that way you couldn’t understand, much less accept. You’d made a mistake - of disobeying orders, of recklessness, of caring - but why the hell did he care in turn? 

“What?” You had hissed, unable to contain the outrage of his interruption of your little haven. Not that it made it any easier to look at him. “You’re here to admonish me again?”

“What the hell was that?” He growled in turn. “You disobeyed my orders and almost got yourself killed.”

“I-,” your voice shook, tears pricked your eyes - he was right, even if it pained you to admit it, but it wasn’t fair. The space between you had shrunk. He was so close now that you saw the rise and fall of his broad chest beneath his vest - apparently just as outraged as you. You had never seen him like this before. “Why are you so mad at me? I was just trying to - I thought-”

“Am I supposed to factor in every one of your impulses? Why did you do that?”

You remember how you heard his heartbeat, pounding - pounding just as loud as yours was. And it depleted your inhibitions. “Because - because you were in danger, you asshole!”

You remember how he had gently grabbed your injured wrist, just as you were about to shove him. You’d anticipated his reflexes, but you couldn’t have anticipated his expression, when you finally met his gaze. You remember how swiftly he’d pulled down his mask, but you couldn’t have anticipated just how breathtaking he’d be, either. Nor how it could feel when he kissed you - finally.

When Kakashi moved to pull away, of course, of course, you moved to pull him right back. 

 ***

Why did you always let him leave?

You remember.

(If you knew how it would end, you never would have let him. Better still, maybe you never should have let him enter in the first place.)

Safe.

You’d never felt so safe. 

When he’d appear and reappear at your apartment - the window, never the door, despite your half-hearted protests - waving with that stupid, adorable, one-eyed smile. He knew you’d saunter over, sliding it open with a matching grin, every time without fail. 

(You always did. That much, you did.)

When he’d laugh, when you told him about your mishaps. You’d laugh at his in kind - though it didn’t suit you, and you replaced it with your usual sympathetic ear. When you’d accompany him to the memorial stone, and pull him way just at the right time. When he’d pull you away, too. 

(What a fool.)

When he’d unmask himself around you, and you pretended not to notice, like it didn’t floor you. When you watched him struggle to decide whether he was relieved or offended. When he kissed you, in that indescribable way that wavered between tentative and determined, soft and powerful, usually choosing the perfect time to flit to the latter, making your knees buckle in the process.

(What a fool.)

When he’d undress you, and no matter how desperate he’d seem, how he always paused to take you in. When he’d move in you, filling your heart and body so much that you thought you might burst. When he’d hold you just that little bit closer, tighter, longer every time.

(What a fool.)

Even when he’d leave, sometimes after you’d fallen asleep, sometimes before - sometimes in the morning - when he’d leave for a day, a week, a month - you felt safe.

Because you knew, in the deep recesses of your heart, that each time you saw him wouldn’t be the last.

(What a fucking fool.)

You remember the first time he said it. Quietly, earnestly, unceremoniously. 

“I love you,” Kakashi had murmured into your ear one night, when he was so, so sure you were sleeping. 

***

Why did you ever dare think you had any cause for optimism?

You remember.

The two lines, glaring upwards and through you, from that unremarkable little piece of plastic. They’d ran parallel - you thought it apt, just like your trepidation and your excitement. The lines would never meet, though. 

(How apt.) 

You’d been happy. That was what had shocked you most, save only for the very fact of you being in this situation in the first place. But behind the fear, there it was. A little glow, a nucleus of hope and future nascent deep in your centre, spread through your heart and speckled to your fingertips, your face, your smile - that paired flawlessly with the little bundle of meaning, the combination of you and him budding in your belly. 

(Buds drop off before blooming all the time.)

You thought it’d be easy. 

(How stupid.)

You thought you could share it all with him right away. 

(You wished.)

But there was a part of you that faltered, when he’d show up at your window in that deceptively lax way. The words stuck in your throat, whenever he asked you if you were alright. The ease of his question didn’t match the weight of the truth. It almost felt… cruel. 

Maybe his fears would eclipse yours, and all that euphoria you’d harboured would dissolve. Maybe he’d be angry, though you suspected that even if he were, it’d be short lived. Maybe you’d end up keeping him from his duty. 

(Maybe you were just a coward.)

Regardless, your hands would float to your stomach whenever they weren’t occupied. Regardless, your mind would conjure up a future, remiss of your own will, an idyllic scene of a child, a marriage, something so sickly sentimental that you wanted to scold yourself. Regardless, it gave you hope.

It was enough, you’d decided. You'd get over it, face him and your fears, because what was waiting on the other side was so good that you’d forget that you had any in the first place. You’d do it. 

You’d tell Kakashi the next time you saw him. 

***

Why did it always feel too soon, each time he let you go?

You remember it, the last time it happens.

How could you not? The moon’s luminosity the perfect backdrop, incandescent, illuminating that wild silver hair, that crimson eye, that tired eye. His blood gleams under its splendour, under the green light that emanates fruitlessly from your delicate, shaking fingers. Softer than his, but no less enduring. 

It’s all so disgustingly poetic.

He refuses to scream, or shout - just whisper your name, in that restrained, ever-abiding tone. It’s never made you want to scream out more in his turn. You would have done anything to absorb it all in its stead. 

“What are you doing here?” he demands, as if he has the energy to. As if you can answer. As if you don’t see the wounds, the bloodshot-eyes, that compliance of his own mortality. His hand - the one that you were stupid enough to trust in, to think was strong - clenches around yours, calloused, then weakens, loosening its grip. He follows it with another impossible, familiar order. “Get out of here.”

“Shut up. Don’t die on me - please,” you beg, coughing up your words in between the sobs that spill forth, onto his face. The ache, the deep, sharp cramp in your hips, the agonising spark that spreads throughout your lower body, and you repeat your futile mantra two-fold.  

(It hurts. It hurts so much.)

“Y/N, I- I’m sorry,” he begins, moving to use his dwindling force to brush away your healing fingers, “it’s too late for that. Just get somewhere safe. Please.” 

“Shut up,” you repeat. You gasp hoarsely, reinforcing your grip. The pain deepens, in the pit of your throat, your heart, and in your womb, amalgamating together inextricably in some hellish concoction just for you and you alone. “Shut up.”

“I’m sorry,” he repeats. His eyes lid, and suddenly that scar never seems so cutting. It’s all so obvious. He just looks so tired, so… resigned. As if he’s been waiting for this. “I love you.”

“I love you too. So you can’t-”

“It’s over. You know it as well as I do.” 

Somewhere, somewhere deep down, you always knew. You knew, but never wanted to admit it. He’d made his peace with dying, long before you ever met, and you can’t hold him back any longer. It almost feels… cruel. 

(Not as cruel as him.)

His hand drops, dropping with a graceless thud against your damp thigh. “Y-you’re covered in blood. That’s all mine…?”

“Yes,” you lie, voice as thick as the mixture of blood and tears that stain both you and him. “Don’t worry about me.”

He stops - and you almost think he’s going to call you out, like he’s done so many times before. 

(You wish he would.)

You’ve never been able to dupe him. But instead, his eyes crinkle at the corners.

(You love him. You love him so much.)

He smiles that hidden smile, one last time. 

His fingers that fight with yours give up, one last time.

He whispers your name, one last time. 

Why did it always feel too soon, each time Kakashi let you go?

[perseusjackson-jasongrace]

Angst 1 for Jason? I'm feeling like some sad lightning boi I dont know why but ye

Hello darling Anon! Thanks for the prompt and I hope I did you well🥺 dis is hella angsty

Jercy Masterlist

Jason Grace doesn't have enough fingers to list how many things he's done wrong in the last month.

1. Losing his best friend

2.Losing his girlfriend

3.Being unable to help all the demigod's he's promised

4.Letting Reyna down by not coming back to SPQR

5.Dammit he can't even put on his fucking shirt the right way.

Holding in a scream he tugs it off and flips it so the tag is on the inside. He's proud of himself for not ditching clothing altogether, ditching life altogether. There is so much temptation in taking to the skies and floating for the rest of his days. It's not like anyone would miss him, would even notice he was gone. And maybe it's for the best. It certainly wouldn't be unexpected. For years he's wanted to be anonymous, just another one of the Campers. For years he's secretly rejected his titles as Son of Jupiter, Praetor of New Rome, Slayer of the Black Throne. He shouldn't complain now that he's ignored, unwanted.

There's a knock at his cabin that he pulls him out of his self-deprecating pity hour. Checking to make sure he has his pants and shirt on and his head firmly on his neck he grabs his sword and opens the door.

"Jason!" Will Solace gasps, "Please come it's Nico!"

His heart turns to stone, lungs become useless masses, "Let's go." He manages to breathe, "Brief me on the way."

They sprint through the camp, uncaring of the shouts and greetings coming from every side. They don't have time. It seems ever since they had defeated Kronos the clocks spin uncontrollably; hours are seconds and minutes only exist in the afternoon and nobody knows if one week is seven days or three blinks of an eye, if years are twelve months or a century.

"A breach at the west border. Monsters we've never seen before. They just snuck up on us. Nico's been raising the dead to fight but I'm afraid he's not strong enough yet. Not after the war. He'll burn out soon and they'll overwhelm him." Will gasps.

"How many?"

"Twenty maybe twenty five?"

"You call anyone else?"

The Son of Apollo shakes his head as they sprint around the corner, "Percy is in school he only arrives tomorrow. Clarisse is gone to visit her mom and there's so many Campers in the infirmary. The rest are the little ones."

"How fa—" Jason beholds the scene in front of him and every nerve in his body shut down.

There in the middle of skeletal warriors and black shadows is Nico Di Angelo. All around them are scaly four-legged vipers hissing and spitting. One opens its grossly enormous jaw and snaps it around a skeleton with a sickening crunch. Another skeleton pops up in the exact same place and with a rattling, he supposes is a scream, attacks the monster.

"NICO!" Will screams, trying to catch his boyfriend's attention.

The Son of Hades although dangerously powerful is grey and heaving as if the sheer force of his summonings are turning his own body to it's bony structure.

"Go!" Will shouts at him.

With a nod, Jason pulls his sword out and steps into the ring of the dead.

Gods these things are a hundred times more terrifying up close. Sharp teeth and poisoned spikes on their tales and oh gods jagged claws to top it all off. But he's fought armies before and survived. This will not deter him. So with the force of Zeus and the strategies of Jupiter flowing through his muscles he brings his sword down on the first creature.

It shrieks and his ears ring like a bell clanging in his skull. But the head thumps to the ground and the monster crumbles to dust.

Decapitation then.

He sidesteps the swish of a tail, chopping it off as it goes past. First mistake. Three tails grow back and he knows one drop of poison will be enough to end him. He vaults into the air using the wind to push him as high as possible and then he's slamming in the body of the creature and sawing at its head.

His foot slams into the ground as the monster powders underneath him. Second mistake. His ankle is broken and there's three more of these things advancing towards him.

He bites down a scream as he attempts to walk. It's no use. Stand here and fight it is. Summoning as much lightning as he can, blue eyes sparking maliciously, he looks directly into the first of them and slams five thousand volts of electricity into its brain. Before he knows it's dead he's onto the next. This time he bides his time, let's it come closer and when he can hear its ugly breathing and feel its lack of heat he stabs his sword into its neck and watches it bleed black.

The third monster is clever, it's learnt. But Jason doesn't know. So he gathers all his strength and waits for it to pounce. By now Nico is a few meters away, holding his own but pale beyond healthy. The monster shakes its body, scales rippling in the afternoon sun. It takes one step closer. Jason grips his sword, holds the power thrumming in his fingers. The monster moves again and he swears its smiling.

He turns to Nico, "You good?"

Third mistake. The monster let's out a vile screech and slams into them.

"NICO!" Someone screams. It sounds like Percy Jackson. But that can't be right. Percy is in school.

The creature's tail swipes at the Son of Hades.

Jason can't move as it's claws wrap around his throat.

I can't do anything right, he thinks. Those talons pierce his skin. The world goes black.

***

"He's a fucking idiot."

"Lay off. How was he supposed to know?"

"Maybe if he wasn't so caught up in trying to make friends he would have been able to do something."

"Leave him alone."

"Alright you lot, get out of here. I'll call you when he's awake."

Jason tries to open his eyes, tries to say something, anything. But he feels a prick in his neck and reality fades away.

***

"Is he awake?"

"How long does this take?"

"He had a broken ankle and a slit throat. Maybe a little patience is in order?"

"I still think we should send him back."

"That's enough! It wasn't his fault and we will stop acting like it.".

The Son of Jupiter groans, blinking into the world. Everything hurts. Everything. And the light above his head is blinding.

"What the hell happened?" He rasps.

"You almost got Nico killed is what!" Someone snaps.

He blinks trying to find the source of such bitterness. "I what?"

"What the fuck were you trying to do saying hi in the middle of battle?"

The room finally shifts into focus and he sees three faces staring at him intently, varying degrees of anger and relief in their expressions.

"Well?" Hazel looks at him, "What were you trying to accomplish? Were you actively trying to get him killed? I know you didn't trust him but trying to kill him Jason? I thought you got passed that after Cupid. Nico told me he trusted you."

"Hazel!" Percy Jackson glares at her.

"I'm—" He chokes, "I'm sorry. I just wanted to make sure he was okay. I— I didn't know the monster would try to get both of us." He's crying now, red hot tears spilling onto the white sheets of the infirmary bed.

"That's the problem Grace, you don't think." There is so much pain in her voice.

"Im sorry," He sobs, "Is he okay? Is he— is he—"

"He is fine Jason," Will says softly, "He managed to jump back before the tail swiped him. He's actually really worried about you. We all are."

He doesn't know what to say to that. He doesn't even know if he deserves that. Hazel is right. If he hadn't distracted Nico they wouldn't be in this situation. It was dumb luck that Nico managed to get out of the way. If he hadn't. Oh gods, Jason would have been responsible for killing his friend.

With that though he turns over in his bed and heaves straight into the trashcan.

"Everyone leave us." Percy's voice is soft, but there is an unmistakable command in it.

The buzzing of the infirmary hushes as people file out and Will gently clicks the door behind him.

"I didn't meant to distract him," Jason cries.

The Son of Poseidon clasps their hands together and looks into him, "I know Jase. I know."

He breaks down, sobs wracking his aching body. He can't even keep his head up. And the tears are ever flowing. He can't breathe, he can't breathe, he can't do this.

Percy hops onto the bed and takes him into his arms. They sit there for many moments, the sound of his crying disrupting every inch of the silence.

"I can't do this anymore Percy."

He feels the demigod stiffen and he's afraid he said too much, has pushed another person away. But then his head is being tilted up by a soft hand and he's looking into oceans.

"Tell me what's wrong."

"There is no-one left and I cannot do this alone."

Something sparks in those emerald green eyes.

"You have never been alone Jason Grace. When the world is dust and the gods can once again become mortal, you will find that only one thing still exists."

"What— what is that?" He hiccups.

"Love. You cannot be alone if you have love."

His eyes pool with tears, fall to the floor, "Lies. There is no love."

"You have forgotten my friend what it feels like. And that is no one's fault but ours. We should have been there. Should have helped you, seen the signs. I should have known."

"Why you?"

"Because I know what it's like to have everything you've never wanted and bear the burden anyway. And when I left I added to yours. I'm sorry for that. I got selfish, wanted to know what it was like to live. But that meant you suffered."

"It's not your fault. I just thought I was stronger than I am."

"You are strong. You are so strong because you are still here. You took the nature of the gods and made it your own. Took the burden of everyone in these camps and carried it on your shoulders."

"Thank you," He mumbles, getting lost in the seas, "For saying that. When did you get so philosophical and wise?"

Percy cracks a grin at that, "After Tartarus I started going to therapy. I think you should too."

He mulls it over, flips the idea around in his mind, "Okay."

"And maybe..." The black haired boy pauses, "Maybe you should come with me to Montauk for the winter holidays. I think you could use a break from all the hero stuff."

"Really?" His eyes widen, staring at his friend.

"Really. Annabeth is in Cali to spend time with her dad and my mom and Paul are just going to spend some time at home with Estelle. I could use company."

"Won't you dad like blast me for being in his territory?"

"I'll talk to him," He smirked.

"Okay. That would be great!"

Percy gives him another squeeze and then jumps to the floor.

"Rest easy Grace."

"Jackson," He stops the demigod in his tracks, "Thank you for this. I needed it."

"We are alive Grace, and we are enough." Those green eyes are intense, filled with emotion. "Remember that."

Jason nods and when he finally succumbs to sleep once more, his soul takes a deep breathe and exhales a new beginning.

[angrylizardjacket]

teenage fantasy. {Joe Mazzello} /SMUT\

Anon asked: Can you do a joe smut fic?? Where he's rough but soft at the same time???

A/N: 2483 words. I love this Y/N because she definitely responds to the questions ‘your boyfriend’s an actor? what’s he been in’ with ‘me.’ ANYWAYS smut. it might be a bit sappy, i genuinely don’t know if it’s good but i’m not going to apologise for it, it is what it is. have fun. would love some feedback.

“Do you remember when we were kids, we made that promise that we’d be best friends no matter what?” You said, voice gentle as you rested your head on Joe’s chest, the two of you half paying attention to something on the television.

“It was when I brought you along to Jurassic Park,” Joe agrees, an arm around you, rubbing small circles into your back, “you’d wandered off to find the T-Rex, and you found her, but she started malfunctioning and you started screaming.” And the moment you try and bury your embarrassed expression against his chest, he laughs, low and warm, and gives you a squeeze. “Yeah, I remember, why?”

“That still holds up, right?” Your voice is muffled where you’re still pressed against his chest, and he’s quick to answer.

“Yeah, it’s a promise, babe.” When he speaks, you look up at him and see him grinning; he’s still looking at the TV, but you can tell he’s not paying attention to it.

“Well when I was sixteen I also promised I’d never date an actor-” You half smile, and he finally looks down at you, raising his free hand to his chest.

“That really broke my heart, you know.” He interjected, and you gave him a light shove.

“Exactly, I broke that promise.” And his expression softens from amused to gently concerned.

“Why are you bringing this up now? What’s got you worried?” He asked, and you can’t articulate your thoughts. “You’re my best friend, my girlfriend, and I’ve known you since grade school; babe,” he laughs a little, wearing a fond smile, “at this point I’m pretty sure you’re stuck with me.”

“But when we made that promise, we were kids, we didn’t know what it meant, we didn’t have to be anything.” Voice soft, you rest your head on his chest again, eyes closed as the fear that had been overwhelming you for months finally came to a head. “But we’re, we’re grownups and you’re someone, Joe. You’re in Bohemian Rhapsody, and I’m-”

“Stop it.” Joe’s voice is firm, and your voice dies in your throat. “Whether or not I’m in a movie or whatever, that doesn’t change anything about us.” His voice is unwavering, and his sincerity calms something in your chest; he truly believes in what he’s saying. 

“You mean that?” You murmur, and he taps your hip gently. Moving automatically, you sit up looking at him with only the barest hint of uncertainty as he beckons you towards his lap, letting you straddle him.

“Of course I mean that.” It’s so soft when he says it, his hands cupping your jaw as he pulled you in for a kiss. He holds you like you’re made of porcelain, and when you lean back, his fingers ghost, feather-light down your arms to settle at your hips. The way he looks at you, reverential, like you hang stars in the sky, his eyes wide and bright, the barest hint of a smile on his lips, it’s as if he’s trying to commit this image to memory. It’s like he’s never seen anything more beautiful that you, in his lap, wearing a shirt that was far too big for you, and a pair of lacy knickers, and you duck your gaze, bringing your hand up to scratch the back of your neck. “There’s no-one I’d rather be with, I promise.” 

“Joe-” you murmur his name soft as he takes your chin and guides you back to face him, pulling you in where you’re smiling bashfully.

“Baby, I promise.” He says, his lips inches from yours, and you grin as you close the gap between you two, kissing him fear disappointing in a way you hadn’t realised it would the moment he has a hand on your ass, squeezing firmly, almost like a reassurance.

“Did high school you ever imagine we’d end up here?” You half laughed as Joe peppers kisses across your collar, which then turned into a faint gasp as he ran his fingernails up your side beneath your shirt with the hand that wasn’t on your ass.

“I think high school me had this exact fantasy.” He admitted, and as you laughed, his hands quickly come up to pull off your shirt over your head and he nodded, shooting for serious as he made a noise of agreement. “Actually, this is much more accurate.” And you’re still giggling even as he took one of your nipples in his mouth, teeth grazing against the sensitive flesh. He kisses his way up your chest, deliberate, lips warm against your skin, and then there’s that smile again, the one you’ve known for years, the one you’ve loved for years, and suddenly you feel secure.

You’ve seen him on screen a million times, falling in love and kissing what felt like a million different people who weren’t you, but in moments like this, where he’s got his hands on your back, guiding you to lay down on the soft bed.

“What about you? Did high school you ever consider this?” And he punctuated it by pulling his shirt off over his head, and you reached up, regarding him with an affectionate smile, tugging him into a messy and passionate kiss as an answer. He had one hand on your cheek, the other moving lower, dipping beneath the waistband of your panties. He swallows your gasp as he slides one finger into you easily.

“I-” when he stars to kiss down the column of your throat, you try and answer, but he chooses that moment to start moving gently within you, curling and uncurling his fingers at an agonisingly slow pace.

“Is that right?” He sounds so innocent but you can feel his smirk against your shoulder.

“That summer, we were- we were sixteen-” you stutter your way through your sentence as his thumb begins to gently rub at your clit. He presses a kiss to your sternum, before looking up at you expectantly; you want to laugh at his innocent act, but the moment you make eye contact, he presses deliberately against both your clit and your g-spot, and your head drops back to the mattress, letting out a low, heavy chuckle, more akin to a moan. Almost all words leave you as your reach down to hold his hand in place, hips rolling in time with the way his fingers moved inside of you. “There, right there.” You whimpered, letting go when he kept the rhythm, letting your hands fist in the sheets of the bed.

“Fuck that’s hot.” You hear him murmur under his breath, and when you look at him, he slows down, and you prop yourself up on your elbows to give him an amused look, heart still beating erratically as he continues to finger you at a steady rhythm. He looks a little surprised that the words had even left his mouth. “What? You are.” He smirked, and you couldn’t help but be endeared by his earnest honesty.

“Take off your pants, you dork.” You grinned, biting your lip and pressing your thighs together as he removed his hand from your panties, leaving you feeling a little empty.

“So you were saying; when we were sixteen you wanted to fuck me?” He asked, tone light as he pulled off his sweat pants, and you chuckled, shifting to sit against the headboard, lazy grin on your face as your own fingers dipped into your panties.

“Pretty much.” You admit easily, and he snorts out a laugh. “I remember, it was like Mid-July, I came over for dinner and you were washing your mom’s car, just wearing board shorts,” and you trailed off, making a low hum of approval at the memory, gasping sharply as you pinched at your clit. Finally, Joe looks at you, now in his boxers, and he goes completely still, watching your hand work.

“Babe, I was so pasty.” He moves automatically, hands on your hips pulling the fabric down your legs, leaving you exposed as you opened your legs for him.

“You’re still pasty.” You smirk as you watch him kiss his way up your inner thigh, grip tight on your thigh like he knows you like. He takes your clit in his mouth, sucking hard, making you arch into him, cocky amusement evaporating with a whimper. It only takes a moment, his tongue flicking across the bud, before he’s moving further up, pressing kisses to your stomach, biting gently at the swell of your breasts with an almost awed laugh when you moan at the sensation. 

“Taking your time there?” You ask, gently lifting his chin when he presses his lips to your chest, and he grins, a little devilish as if happy to be caught in the act.

“Sorry, I was just remembering...” and he’s wearing this shit-eating grin as he sits back, reaching into the bedside drawer, pulling out a condom and opening it easily, “about five minutes ago my girlfriend was worried I’d leave her for my fancy, Post-Bohemian Rhapsody lifestyle.” He slides off his own underwear, and you suppress a fond smile. “I’m just trying to prove that that’s not going to happen.” He pulls you by the hips towards him once the condom is secure, and he pauses for a moment, the tip of his cock at your entrance.

“Well don’t keep me waiting.” Voice low and seductive, you moan, long and breathy as he sinks slowly into you.

“Never, baby.” He murmurs into your ear before capturing your lips in a kiss. He starts so slow, so deliberate, and your move your hips to match his pace, breath catching when your hips meet his and you can feel him hit deep inside of you. It’s like a switch has been flipped, the teasing banter leaving your mind as all you can think about is his cock inside of you, his hand on your thigh pulling your leg up, closer to him.

Your nails dig into his back, you can feel him press a groan into your neck. You reach down between your bodies, fingers finding your clit, and your head falls back as you play with your clit as Joe fucked you.

“God, baby you feel so good.” He presses a kiss to your throat, his grip on your thigh tightening.

“So good.: You agree, as if the words were being pulled from you. He slows down for a moment, moving back to look you in the eyes. Seeing you looking up at him through your lashes, pupils blown wide, and lips swollen from where you’d been biting them to keep yourself quiet, he can’t help but snap his hips to meet yours, if only to hear your gasp, watch your eyes flutter closed for a moment.

“I’m all yours, baby, I promise.” And you reach up with your free hand to pull him in to a kiss, moaning and sloppy against his lips, rolling your hip lazily, enjoying the new pace.

“All mine.” And there’s a self-assuredness in your voice, with him deep inside of you, his hands on your thigh, that hits him right in the chest. If you’d asked him right now, he’d walk through hell for you without hesitation. “I love you.” And he’s still a little dazed. 

“I love you too.” He responds, and he feels your hands on his hips, sees the way you’re biting your lips, and his pulse gets even more erratic, if possible. Moving with him, the two of you role until he’s laying on the mattress, and you’re straddling him. It only takes you a moment to reposition him before you’re sliding down onto his cock, taking a moment to just enjoy the feeling of fullness, before you start grinding against him.

“Fuck.” He breathes, hands steady on your hips, loosing himself in the sensations. And then you’re leaning over him, lips against his, kissing him hard, as you rode him, moving down and sucking a hickey into his chest, as one of his hands comes up to pinch at your nipples. “Fuck, I love you, baby.” He moans, and you let out a breathy laugh.

“I love you too, God, I love you so fucking much.” And your eyes flutter closed as he begins rubbing at your clit. You’re both so close as you grind against him, his hips rolling against yours, cock hitting inside of you at just the right angle as you leaned back a little, and the words falling from your lips are incomprehensible, but all you can hear is his moans, and praises as he tells you how good it feels to be inside of you.

You come with a high moan, leaning forward and pressing your forehead to his, hips still rolling as he comes a few moments later, pressing desperate kisses to your lips, holding your hips steady, flush against him as he buries himself deep inside of you. The world stands still for just a moment, your pussy still twitching with the aftershocks of your orgasm, and you let out a shaky laugh.

“So is that how the fantasy usually turned out?” You asked, catching your breath for a moment before you climb off of him, flopping onto the bed beside him. Joe snorts out a laugh, swinging his legs over the side of the bed to head to the bathroom and dispose of the condom.

“I never really got that far.” He admitted, and you let yourself relax and chuckle into the easy silence of the room.

“I think I could do another thing high school you would have fantasized about.” You call out, and when he returns, there’s an amused look on his face, his eyebrow raised with interest. You beckon him over and he sits on the bed against the headboard at your insistence. You take his now soft cock in your hand, gently pumping it a few times.

“You’re gonna have to give me a few minutes before round two.” He insisted, and you smiled softly at him, hand still gentle on his dick.

“I know, I just wanna make you feel good.” And it’s so sweet and honest that Joe feels like his heart’s going to melt as he takes your face in his hands and plants a kiss on your lips.

“You do, baby.” He murmurs, and the two of you are quiet for a moment, resting your foreheads together, his hands cupping your cheeks, your hand still working his dick where it was already half hard.

“I just wanna,” you try to explain, though he can hear the wicked smile in your words without even opening his eyes, “make you feel as good as I do when you tell me you love me while you’re so fucking deep in me.” And Joe lets out a low groan, his cock twitching in your hand.

“You’re far too hot for your own good.”

[queenieships]

im not super familiar with your ships, soo... number 1 (things you said at 1 am) from the mini fic meme with the ship you're most favouring right now?

Hey anon uhh so like this took me forever to do simply for the fact that I ended up turning what was meant to be a minific into a 4 and a half thousand word fic :> SO UH YEAH ENJOY THAT. I’d really appreciate it if people could read and give some feedback, I’m going to put most of it under a readmore since it’s just so long!! Warning for talks on mental health, an abusive father and just insane amounts of romantic and sexual tension :3c

@smoochesforseven 

things you said at 1 am – Queenie and Davey

Black clouds swirled angrily, the moon a feint smudge of light against the Manhattan night sky. Rain tumbled from above, clattering loudly against the pavement and the rooftops, soaking anyone who dared roam the streets at such an ungodly hour.

Queenie was one of those daring people, shuffling as quickly as her bare and battered feet would take her. She’d never been out this late by herself, every noise frightened her to the core but she had come too far to turn back. Her hair was slick and plastered to her face, the delicate fabric of her nightgown soaked through and clinging to her body. Never had she felt so vulnerable, her feet were so bruised from running down the rough streets she wasn’t sure if they could carry her for much longer. She hated to think what would happen if the wrong person saw her, a soaked and vulnerable girl stumbling through the streets of lower Manhattan.

Queenie kept her arms wrapped around her middle, trying to keep herself warm – raindrops clung to her eyelashes, making it hard to see where she was. Her entire body ached, a cold, dull throbbing emitting through every limb. Water ran down her face, pooling over the curves of her lips and streaming down her chin. This was the craziest thing she had done and if not for the circumstances at home she would’ve regretted it – but standing there, thinking of her father’s face and how he feigned worry for her mental well-being, her feelings were only solidified. She had to be away from him, away from her home or Queenie didn’t know what she would do to herself. Her father’s comments were ringing through her ears and she reluctantly wondered if she truly was going mad.

She stopped for a moment and looked around, trying to recall the route they had taken on one occasion when Davey’s mother had invited some of the Newsies to their apartment for dinner. Though Queenie had gone with them she had never actually managed to step inside so even if her memory was good enough to get her there she had no clue which level they’d be on or which room would be his. She had been tempted to join them, wanting nothing more than to dine with her friends and be introduced to Davey’s family but a feeling of guilt had washed over her; she felt terrible intruding on his family and eating their food when they were struggling, especially as someone who had never known the strain of financial troubles.

She cursed her guilt for a moment before noticing a street sign that seemed far too familiar for it to be a coincidence. Her first steps were hesitant before she began almost jogging in the signs direction, her gut feeling telling her she was close. Surely enough, within minutes Queenie had stumbled upon the complex that she knew to be Davey’s home. It was a tenement, a series of very small apartments where families would be clustered together – those living here were certainly better off than kids like the Newsies but the living conditions still weren’t amazing, mostly from a hygienic standpoint. Each building looked almost the exact same, insanely tall with rows upon rows of tiny windows, some of which had washing lines strung up between them.

She could so easily identify Davey’s home because she remembered Race had put out multiple cigars on the outside walls and, whilst having to squint insanely hard due to the dark, she could see circular scorch marks on the wall and small clumps of ash. Queenie made her way to the back of the building, knowing there to be a fire escape that climbed up its length. Standing in front of the ladder she took a moment to remind herself how crazy this was, how she had no idea which floor or room would be Davey’s before gripping onto the slippery metal in front of her and beginning to climb, almost falling off once or twice with her feet struggling to support her weight against the pressure of metal bars. Queenie would get to a platform and peer through each window, hoping for some telltale sign or clue to let her know which room was the right one. She had climbed for multiple levels when she looked into a room that just felt right. Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness by now and looking in she could see it was a small room with a desk, a set of drawers and a double bed that took up almost half the room. Her heart was thumping rapidly in her chest as her eyes set on a figure laying on the bed in a T position, legs dangling off the side with the back of their hands resting over their face. Queenie felt a pang in her heart, she knew it was him though small details in the back of her mind made her hesitate. Yes, this person seemed to be the correct height and build to be Davey but she also knew that he and his younger brother, Les, shared a room and yet the younger boy was no where to be seen.

Holding back her fear, Queenie rapped a knuckle against the glass, letting out a quiet gasp as the figure sharply sat upright. Their eyes met and her hand slowly dropped away from the window, feeling almost embarrassed. It was Davey. Despite her circumstances she couldn’t help but drink in the sight of him, vest and button-up removed leaving him in just his under-shirt and trousers which for reasons unknown was a look that made her heart flip. Confusion flashed across his face but it quickly changed to worry as he rushed over and pulled up the window, holding it open with one hand and leaning out of it slightly, face close to hers.

“What are you doin’ here?” He whispered, voice low but dripping with confusion. Queenie took a moment to respond, heart practically stopping now he was up close. Seeing him without his cap felt blasphemous, though his hair was dark and wavy and insanely cute to her. She could even see stubble forming across his jaw and she trailed her eyes downwards to get a better look of him in his state of undress, small curls of chest hair even poking out from the deep neckline of his under shirt. Truth be told, Queenie was reeling.

“I-I uh…” She stuttered dumbly, blinking rapidly in response to his attentive stare. Davey at first seemed like an awkward, withdrawn person but over time Queenie learnt how wrong that was – he could be passionate and angry, confident and intimidating at times and insanely intense – just like right now. His eyes bore into hers, waiting for her answer. “… Can I come in? It’s raining.”

Davey’s eyes widened instantly as he realised the situation and the weather outside. His thoughts were practically playing across his face – what was she doing here? Why was she sneaking up to his room in the middle of the night, especially a night as bad as that one?

“God, I’m sorry, of course! Get in here!” He pushed the window up further, gripping supportively onto her forearm as she climbed into the room, having some trouble with her balance not only because of her sore feet but also due to simply being soaked.

Once Davey had managed to help pull her in, he reached up and slid the window down, leaning over her slightly. He let out a breath once they were both standing there, just looking at one another. He wiped a hand down his face, trying to clear away his tiredness. “W-what are you doin’ here?” he repeated the question, waving his hand in gesture to his bedroom. His expression was tired, eyebrows crinkled together.

Queenie’s chest tightened for a moment, feeling guilty to trouble him and afraid that he was annoyed with her but a moment later a small smile played on his lips and his eyes, for the first time, fell from her face and took in the sight of her.

“Oh my gosh! Queenie, look at you!” One hand quickly flew up to cover his eyes, the other gesturing towards her torso. In one quick motion he turned his back to her and slapped the other hand over his face, adamant not to look at her.

“I know, Davey, I’m sorry but this wasn’t exactly a planned visit.” She spoke softly, almost cooing at his behaviour. His blushing face was obvious, even his ears and neck were slightly pink. He didn’t respond to her so Queenie tip toed over to him, gently placing a hand on his forearm, trying to peak up at him through his fingers. “David~?” she quietly sang his name, shaking his arm a little.

Davey widened the gap between his fingers, looking down at her with shocked eyes. “N-nope, no, I’m sorry.” He stuttered before closing the gaps again. “I can’t deal with this.” Still covering his eyes he walked away from her, blindly walking towards the set of drawers. Once there he crouched down, removing his hands from his face and began to rummage through clothing before pulling out a long, white button-up shirt. He held it in his hands for a few seconds before holding his arm out behind him, towards her.

“Just… put this on, please? You’ll catch a cold if you stay in that for long.” He said, his voice strained.

Queenie could tell from this tone of voice and his behaviour that that wasn’t the only reason he wanted her to change clothes – Her nightgown was made of thin, white material which had soaked through and clung relentlessly to her skin. If not for the fact that she had roamed the streets in the same state for God knows how long Queenie would be insanely embarrassed – plus Davey’s shyness was insanely cute to her, acting as a distraction from her own timidness.

She took the shirt from his hand, finding the material surprisingly soft. It hit her, the fact she was going to be wearing nothing but Davey’s shirt.  The thought excited her immensely, checking to see that he was facing the other way before turning her back on him, peeling the nightgown from her skin and shifting it over her head. She looked over her shoulder for a moment, feeling more vulnerable standing there naked, wondering if he was peaking – he wasn’t. He was shifting his weight from his heels to his toes, shoulders squared and tense.

Queenie bit her lip and smiled, quickly unbuttoning the shirt before slipping her arms into the sleeves, the feel of fresh, dry clothing setting her mind at ease. She buttoned the shirt back up again with precision, standing there and relishing in how amazing his shirt felt on her body. The sleeves were far too long, material going far past her fingertips, the length of the shirt reaching down to her knees. Her legs being bare was a little discomforting but whatever could be seen then could probably have been seen through the material of her nightgown anyway.

“Alright Davey, you can turn around now.” She spoke quietly, playing with the long sleeves, flapping them around at her sides.

He peeked over his shoulder, almost mimicking her from moments ago. Clearly he was being cautious after her teasing earlier. She heard him let out a heavy breath before he turned to face her, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. His eyes were wider than she’d ever seen them, flickering over the sight of her.

“… Are you alright?” Queenie said, running her hands down her hips and looking down at herself, checking to make sure she hadn’t missed a button.

Davey scoffed, running a hand through his hair and stopping at the crown of his head. “Yeah, yeah I’m fine – just not used to having pretty, half-naked girls in my room.” His arm fell down limply to his side, Davey letting out a huff. Clearly the situation was a little frustrating for him.

She smiled and squeaked quietly, cheeks growing warm. He thought she was pretty? The statement alone made her terrible day immensely better. Clearing her throat, Queenie tucked her bangs behind her ear. “I’m sorry, David. I didn’t mean to cause you trouble, it’s just… I had to get away from home and this is the first place I thought to go.” His demeanour changed almost immediately, back straightening and eyes sharpened. “What do you mean? Why’d you have to get away?” his voice was soft but stern, wanting to show support for her but from the way his jaw tensed she could tell something in what she said had angered him.

“I-I um-”

“Queenie, if he hurt you, I swear to God-” Davey stopped himself once he heard his own raised voice. It was the middle of the night and his family were sleeping, Queenie would die if any one of them were to see them together in such a questionable state.

She watched him for a moment, not sure what to say. Davey stood with his hands on his hips, face pensive as he frustratedly bit his bottom lip. Sighing, he shook his head and plopped down onto the corner of the bed, slumping forward and resting his elbows on his knees and his chin on his hands. He looked up at her, patting the space beside him.

Queenie could feel that the atmosphere had changed, her mouth suddenly feeling dry. Her legs felt heavy as she slowly lowered herself down next to him, hands in her lap as she switched between looking at him and at the floor.

Davey let out a sigh. “Now, I’m gonna repeat myself again. Did he hurt you?” he asked, his voice quiet. His hand was placed gently on the small of her back, something Queenie noticed he did often but never mentioned – it was his way of being present for her, showing that he had her back without saying anything and they both knew the other appreciated the slight touching without having said it.

“… He wanted to send me away.” She started, eyes flicking up to look him in the face. “He does this thing sometimes where the words he uses sound nice and supportive but it’s all lies – the way he says it… you know it’s a threat.” she sighed, clasping her hands together. “He said that I was struggling. He thought I was hysterical and crazy and that maybe he should send me away for my own good.” she said the last few words mockingly. “Do you know what they do to women in asylums? I hear they lock them up in cages with no food or water, they’re not cared for they’re treated like rabid dogs and that’s what my father wants for me – so to answer your question David, no, he didn’t physically hurt me – not this time.” By the end of her rant Queenie’s voice had darkened and her eyes were half-closed as her heart stung.

“Well, are you?” Davey asked, scooting a little closer to her to wrap his arm around her waist and give her a reassuring squeeze. “Crazy, I mean.” He smiled at her, eyes bright and eyebrows furrowed with worry. “Cuz if you are then I must be crazy too because… you make more sense to me than any person I have ever met.”

Queenie stared up into his eyes, taken aback. She choked out a bitter laugh, closing her eyes and pushing her hand on his chest. “Oh, shut up!” she giggled lowly, gripping onto his shirt.

Davey chuckled and placed his hand over hers and holding it tightly. “No, I mean it. I don’t think I’ve ever agreed with someone so much in my life – and for me? Agreeing with someone is a lot. All of your beliefs and the way you fight for them, it’s… it’s admirable and inspiring.” He exhaled deeply, looking down at their hands pressed together on his chest. “And I cannot lie to you. If I ever see you father face-to-face I will sock ‘im right in the jaw because I don’t know if I’ve ever hated a man more than I hate your father. He flat out is a villain and he treats you like you’re nothing and I am not about to stand for that.”

Her giggles subsided as he spoke, his words having so much feeling behind them – even Queenie, someone who struggled with immense self loathing, felt so important and… safe. She smiled, though her lower lip quivered slightly as her eyes began to water. Queenie leant forward, burying her face in the crook of Davey’s neck, her shoulders shook as she sobbed quietly, her free hand clutching onto his waist.  Immediately he moved his arm from her back, sliding it up to around her shoulders and pulling her further into him. “I’m sorry, my emotions are all over the place tonight.” She mumbled into his shoulder, trying to focus on his presence – they’d never touched like this before and Queenie couldn’t help but feel like her hopes were being met, all the times she’d thought of Davey holding her in his arms and there she sat, enveloped in him; granted she was weeping into his shoulder but there had to be a downside somewhere.

“It’s fine. It pains me to admit it but I’d probably be crying too if my father did that to me.” Davey absent-mindedly played with the kinks of her chin-length hair, hesitating for a moment before placing a soft kiss on her head.

Queenie laughed quietly again into his shoulder, squeezing his waist. She found his attempts at upholding his masculinity funny, especially since she believed his behaviour throughout the night had been pretty manly, if not a little boyish at times. Her cheeks were burning after his kiss, butterflies in her stomach. There was a warm throbbing in her chest and she couldn’t help but smile at everything he said, just his presence made her feel safe and cared for.

She pulled away from his shoulder, hand still clutched tightly to his chest. She looked at their hands clenched together for a moment and nodded lightly to herself, courage bubbling through her chest. Her eyes flickered up to his, giving him a small smile before leaning up and softly pressing her lips against his.

For a second she could think of nothing else but Davey, all the trauma of the evening falling out of her mind as it was instead filled with images of him, his voice and his eyes and how she could feel the warmth emitting from his face and…

… He wasn’t kissing back?

Queenie pulled away from him, retracting her hand from his grasp. Her chest felt heavy like an anchor was dragging down her heart. Dread was washing over her, eyes stinging. Her hands started to shake nervously, she had never cared for someone as strongly as she cared for Davey and so many of her positive feelings and emotions were invested in him, in pining for him – if he didn’t want her…

“I-I shouldn’t have done that.” She stuttered, voice cracking. He didn’t like her back, didn’t want to kiss her and he probably didn’t want her there at all, probably lied when he said she was pretty. “I’m so sorry, David, I-”

In an instant his lips were smothered against hers, his hands clasping the sides of her face, fingers tangling in her damp hair. The force of his kiss almost pushing her over and, frantically, she grabbed onto the material of his shirt and pulled him closer to her, heart feeling like it was ready to explode.

Breaking the kiss for barely a second, Queenie climbed over his legs, knees on either side of him as she sat up straight in his lap, for once being higher up than him. Their lips meshed together once again, Queenie this time clutching his face as Davey pulled her body flush against his, both arms wrapped around her tightly. Her heart was beating rapidly in her chest, body tingling and warm. His fervorousness shocked her, though she had imagined kissing him so many times her fantasies had never managed to capture just how passionate he would be and how his kisses would make a knot form in her stomach.

Davey pulled back, eyes still closed, panting for breath. He was flushed, face warm under her touch. She ran her thumbs over his cheek bones, always taken aback by how handsome he was. From his brown eyes to his dark, tousled hair, from his hooked nose to his angular jaw. His tall, lean frame and long, pianist fingers fascinated her. His body language, his voice and not even to mention his personality, intelligent and witty, dominant and determined, surprisingly strong but caring in every way. When it came to David Jacobs her head and heart had never felt lighter and yet so full, thinking about him flustered her and impacted her capability to properly think and to have him there, blushing and panting underneath her? Queenie felt like the world was hers.

“I adore you, y’know that?” His eyes fluttered open, giving her a small grin. His hands were caressing her lower back, pinching the fabric of his white shirt between his fingers.

“Davey, stop it you’re going to make me cry again.” She laughed, using humour as she often did to hide the degree of her feelings. She was often embarrassed when it came to sweet moments like this, finding it difficult to say what she wanted.

Davey groaned and laid his head against her shoulder, kissing her neck. “I want you to be mine. I wanna protect you and care for you and fight for you – with you – and I just want to keep kissing you forever.” His words were breathy as he rushed them out. “I… I want you to be my girl.” his voice was so soft she would’ve struggled to hear it if not for him talking so close to her ear; his hand had found hers and their fingers interlocked.

Her lower lip quivered again but this time she didn’t laugh. She clenched her jaw as tears slid down her face, tickling her skin. Mimicking his actions from earlier, she buried her face in his hair for a moment before placing a kiss atop his head.

“I care about you so much, David. I don’t know if I want to bring you into my personal life, not with my family, not now. God knows what my father would do to you, or to me because I was with you. I-I don’t know.”

Davey raised his head slowly, brown eyes piercing hers defiantly. His mouth was open slightly, the bridge of his nose crinkling slightly as his features scrunched together in a baffled expression. The look in his eyes told her that he wanted to argue, to deny everything she said and to reassure her he could deal with it but he let the expression drop. He nodded his head slowly, kissing his teeth.

“Alright, well, an ‘I don’t know’ is better than a flat out refusal. You don’t have to give me a straight answer right away, you can sleep on it and take as much time as you want. You just gotta know that I care about you and I am willing to deal with your father if it means I can be with you.” He raised her hand up to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles before patting her on the hip. “C’mon, you’re obviously not going home tonight and we should get some sleep.”

Her eyes were still watery but she gave him a fox-like smile. “You want me to stay the night, Davey~?”

He instantly scoffed and blushed at her words. “Hey! You are not allowed to get all flirtatious, not after kind of turning me down.” He gave her a smile, though she could tell he was dissatisfied.

She worked her way off of him, holding onto the bottom of the shirt to stop it riding up. At the same time Davey pulled himself out from underneath her, standing and stretching his long legs for a moment and letting out a sigh. The night had been crazy, full of developments and wild emotions and both of them were drained.

In one quick move, he reached back and pulled his under shirt off, over his head and onto the floor. He straightened out his shoulders and stretched his arms above his head, turning and watching her as she settled into his bed, pulling the covers up to her chin. “Was taking that off really necessary?” She asked, though she couldn’t keep her eyes off him, fascinated by his slim and pale body. Though she had always found him insanely attractive she couldn’t help but plan to bake him as many pies as he could eat, just to put a little more meat on his bones so his ribs and hips weren’t quite so defined. Their class difference would always be obvious, even down to a physical level. Her body was plump and soft whereas his was thin and harsh, simply down to the availability of food. On the outside, they couldn’t be more different and their outward contrast was something that Queenie found wonderful and it was one of the things that had initially attracted her to Davey.

He slid in next to her with a smile. “I just wanted to show you what you’d be missing out on if you turned me down.” He half-heartedly flexed an arm, clearly a little insecure in his own physique. Queenie let out a sympathetic ‘aww’, running her hand down his arm before grabbing his wrist and pulling it as she turned to lay on her side. Davey scooted closer and spooned her from behind, his arm around her waist like she wanted. He kissed her ear, the two quickly saying goodnight before settling down to sleep. It was insane, the boundaries they had both passed that night and how much closer they had grown. She felt comfortable with him, though his confession nipped at the back of her brain with an urgency.

Queenie could never deny her feelings for him, which is why she wanted the best for him and she just didn’t know if that was her.

[mini-moongi]

I Need You

Request: Hi! Can you write a soulmate au with anyone from the rap line where you get a symbol (when you turn 16)representing your soulmate somewhere on your body, in the same place as your soulmate, that represents them/their personality? Can you also have the reader and the person of your choice from the rap line be childhood friends?? Sorry if I’m asking but too much, but if you do write this, I will be very happy! - Anon

Suga (Yoongi) x reader

Genre: angsty fluff

[Gif doesn’t belong to me]

I got my first request! Im frEaKinG ouT  I changed it up a bit, so that you have two marks. One represents you, but you were born with it, and the other is your soulmate’s that you earn when you’re 16. That way, you can recognize your own mark.

Summary: Yoongi promised to be there for your 16th birthday, the day you were to get your soulmate’s mark, but failed to show up. You waited for him patiently, although you did study abroad. You meet up with Namjoon, who was a study buddy, and decide to record a song.

[ Soulmate AU]

You blew out the special candles that lit up your birthday cake. You were turning sixteen, the age where you’d get your soulmate’s mark. You tried to be happy, like the people surrounding you, but it wasn’t the same since Yoongi hadn’t shown up.

People often started to travel the world in search of their soulmate at your age, desperately trying to find their destined lover. Yoongi was the same, leaving last year on the day after his sixteenth birthday. He used his soulmate as an excuse to leave and pursue his dream because his parents didn’t really support him.

You two were childhood friends, talking about wanting to create music for people all over the world. You supported each other, through good and bad, which is why you two were so close.

“ Yah Yoongi, when you become famous, you better get me free tickets to your shows.” You laughed along with him. The happy atmosphere was doubled when he smiled at you. It was alluring, and you were drawn to him. “ When you leave after you’re 16, stay in touch, okay?”

“ I promise, when I leave next month, I’ll come back for your sixteenth birthday next year.” His head turned to face you as he gave you a lopsided grin. You looked at him in a disbelieving manner as you laughed out your next words. “ Really? But what if you forget?”

“ I wouldn’t miss it for the world. I’ll even get you a Kumamon bear if I have to.” His tone seemed reassuring to you, so you agreed happily to his offer. You two stared into the crisp night sky, wondering of the future.

You stared at the same night sky, in the exact spot you two made the promise. It was a whole year of being ignored, never updated, and being alone. His number was deleted somewhere along the way, he must have forgotten about you.

You shook your head at the thought, maybe his flight was delayed. He promised to be here, not to keep in touch. You watched as your soulmate’s mark slowly started forming around your wrist. The feeling when it appears is different for each person, and yours just so happened to burn.

On your left wrist was a piano music chord that wrapped around like a bracelet. It had a set of notes, and the chords seemed to be on flames. The chord was unfinished, and seemed to fade into your skin. Great, now you had to play piano for this shit.

Your right wrist had your mark, but you’ve seen that since you were born. Sighing as you flopped onto your bed, you fell asleep with your thoughts filled with hope. 

The next day, however, he didn’t show up. You were going to leave to study abroad soon, so you hope he’d show up before then. You decided to figure out what these notes on your wrist meant, so you went up to the piano in your house. You remember the pristine piano, recalling a fond memory.

“ You’re doing it wrong. Your hand goes over there.” He bluntly picks up your hand and moves it to another side of the piano. The boy places his own hands across from you, gently touching the keys. “ Start.”

You both played a rhythmic melody, clashing together in waves of music notes. The sound amplifies as each verse progresses, building up each key as you press the notes. His part intertwines with yours, creating a song of separation. When you finished, he spoke up, “ You didn’t fuck up, I’m proud.” He smiles and gives you a hug, shocking you with the kind gesture.

You place your hands on the keys of the piano, trying to remember how to play the piece. You do it as a warm up, but because it’s a two player song, the piano’s music became a sad piece, calling for its forgotten partner.

You look at your wrist and started playing the first few notes from your soulmate’s mark. The unfinished end of the chord kept spiraling along your arm with the rest of the music notes. You keep playing, and a beautiful melody softly drifts through the air.

After that, you played it over and over, unable to tear yourself away from the piece.

[Years Later]

You called up Namjoon, having lost the directions to his studio. You met him when you were studying abroad, and you two indulged in the passion of music. You often worked on music projects with him, and you both always came out with the best results. He accomplished his dream and joined a kpop group back in 2013. Today, he wanted to meet up to show off his studio.

“ Hey, was I supposed to take a left or a right?” You asked him through the phone. You eventually see him at the front of the building, and he guided you to the room. 

“ You’ve got on a dope new jacket, where’s it from?” Namjoon pointed to the leather jacket you had on with your outfit. 

“ A friend gave me this when we were kids. I never really fit it until now, so I didn’t get a chance to wear this for a long time.” You shrugged at your reply and walked into the studio. Yoongi gave it to you for your fourteenth birthday, but you had to wait until you grew into it.

It was stylized, probably to his preferences, and looked fairly new. “ All the new music we’ve been working on is stored on this computer.” He proceeded to show you some really cool projects they’ve been preparing. You gave some advice on how to improve it, and he took notes to remember. One song in particular, caught your attention.

“ Did you write this song?” You asked Namjoon. He looked over at you disappointingly,” It’s good, right? I helped make this song, but it was someone else’s idea for the melody. I’m pretty sure it’s called ‘I Need U’ or something.” 

Namjoon discussed the things that you’ve been practicing and brought you up to the recording booth. You were here to record a song that he wrote, and the lyrics sealed the deal. Namjoon received a text message, and replied before putting his phone away

You loved the thrill of singing and rapping, and this song proved it. Namjoon told you that you were going to be a part of a duet, which you thought was interesting. Nevertheless, you began the song.

You had a single rap verse and you sang the chorus of the song. It was about the red string of fate, and soulmates who were split apart. It’s a sad song, really, and you wanted to relate to it.

Yoongi forgot his headphones in Namjoon’s studio, and he went to pick them up. He was working on the upcoming song “ I Need U” and left his headphones when he went back to the dorms. Yoongi decided to text Namjoon on his way there, so that he would have a heads up.

Yoongi was tired, but tried to stay awake as he walked down the familiar hallway. He quietly opened the door, only to be met with music and a very talented voice.

Your rap was so clear and every word sounded like it had a meaning behind each one. Your voice sang with each emotion played in the song, like the words were telling your story. Yoongi’s eyes roamed around until it landed on you, instantly caught in your voice. Your focused expression and the way you sang drew him closer to you, almost entrancing him to stay.

He walked quietly up to Namjoon, who had the headphones next to him. Right when he was going to grab his stuff and leave without you noticing, Namjoon talks into the microphone. “ You did great, y/n. Come meet one of my friends.”

It couldn’t really be you, could it? Yoongi refused to return to Daegu after he left. He deleted his own number, and ignored every mention of your name, so why couldn’t you leave his mind? You made him feel something he couldn’t, and didn’t, want to understand, so he left.

The guilt that he felt overseas made him too afraid of returning home, too afraid to see you. He remembered the promise and knew he broke it, so coming back, he didn’t want to see you upset on your sixteenth birthday. Even the sheer fact that his soulmate’s mark matched yours, further convinced him to stay away.

“ Y/n, I’d like you to meet--” Namjoon’s words were cut off. “ --Yoongi?” You couldn’t believe it. The person you’ve always waited for, was standing in front of you. You were shocked, you gave up entirely on ever seeing him again. You wanted to be angry for all those years he ignored you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do such a hurtful thing to him.

“ I’m sorry.” Yoongi wasn’t the one to apologize, but the guilt made it unbearable. You were wearing the same leather jacket he gave you, and when he looked at you, he could tell that he’s missed a lot in your life. He missed you, that’s for sure.

“ I-I’m so sorry...” Without another word, Yoongi hugged you. You haven’t seen him break down since that one time he accidentally pushed you off a hill and you broke your wrist. He held onto you tightly, cradling your body in his arms. Tears were streaming out of his eyes now, unable to separate himself from you.

“ It’s okay Yoongs..” You pat him on the back, rubbing soothing circles along the way. His head rested on our shoulder, and you looked over his. You made eye contact with Namjoon, who was confused as hell. He mouthed out the words, “ I’ll give you a moment.” before walking out.

You and Yoongi stay in that position for awhile, just listening to each other’s heart beat. You two pulled away slowly with his hands on your waist. “ Are you mad at me?”

“ You’ve only ignored me for half of my life, no big deal.” You shrugged and avoided eye contact. Yoongi always went soft on you, and this was no different. “ I-I’m sorry, y’n. Please don’t be mad.. I’ll even buy you that kumamon bear I promised-- or get you your favorite ice cream..”

“ Of course I’m not mad at you, Yoongi.” You giggled softly. You could see his panicked expression turn into one of relief. “ You’ve been busy, that’s all.”

He could only smile and hug you again, except less dramatically. You were in his arms, and he couldn’t have been happier. His cold demeanor, without fail, consistently became sweeter with you.

 Now he knew why.

------------------------------------------

-A/N-

I hope the ending was okay, I kind of winged it there. Thank you for requesting! I hope I did your request some justice.

-requests open!-

[prompt-master]

The PlayGround