#PART 2 BABY

[twilightkitkat]

Part 2 of thinking about the reaction another universe's Logan would have to meeting Wade. To Wade and Logan's relationship.

Part 1 , Part 3, Part 4

---

It'd been a few days since Wade had revealed the truth to Wolverine.

He'd expected things to be awkward, for them to fight over it, for Other-Logan to pull away so that his previous annoyance-indifference would look warm in comparison.

But, shockingly, things had gotten... easier?

Wolverine seemed more comfortable with him, becoming more talkative than before (which wasn't exactly hard to top, but progress is progress). Instead of yanking away the second Wade got too close for comfort, he'd let him brush by him, close enough that Wade could feel his body heat through the seat. Instead of sitting a respectable five feet away at all times, Other-Logan now sat at a friendly distance, close enough to sling an arm around his shoulder if Wade was in a particularly masochistic mood.

It was nice to feel like he had companionship in a world where he knew no one. It was comfortable. It reminded him of his own Logan sometimes, when he could close his eyes and drown out his thoughts and pretend that he was on a mission with Logan in his world instead of in the middle of fucking nowhere with a shitty knockoff.

Well, "shitty knockoff" is a harsh way to put it. This Logan wasn't that bad (he was certainly less anger-prone than his counterpart). It just... wasn't the same. It's like wanting a bowl of Lucky Charms at 2am so you go to a Dollar General and buy a copycat brand to satisfy your craving. Yes, it's similar, but no, it isn't the same.

And fuck, did Wade feel his Logan's absence.

It'd especially hit at night, when Wade was used to curling up on the pull-out couch with Logan beside him and pretending that he was shuffling closer so he wouldn't fall off the edge.

(They both were able to sleep in far more precarious positions. A perk of the job. But under the veil of darkness, they were able to pretend that they weren't vying for touch just to have it. To feel the warmth of someone else next to them. To know that they were both alive and safe and, despite everything, here with each other.)

But, even if Wade curled in on himself at night, feeling the chill in his bones despite the luxurious blankets in the mansion or whatever insulating sleeping bag he was using, he was fine.

So fine, in fact, that it didn't bother him at all that it'd been nearly a week since he arrived in this universe. Not that he was counting. (He was.)

Logan was probably fine. Wade would send him a message or something, let him know that he was okay and that the mission was just taking longer than expected, but interdimensional texting hadn't yet been invented. Or, at least, the TVA bastards were cheap enough to not let him access it.

Besides, they'd been making progress. They were finally working their way up to beating The Big Bad, to telling whatever evil organization was plotting to destroy this timeline to fuck off and go to hell.

As a matter of fact, they were on their way to a particularly promising lead right now. All the henchmen they've managed to get information out of seemed to point their fingers to the same place, some discreet nuclear power plant that had been shut down a decade ago. (Real original, guys. Why don't supervillains ever set up base in a less stereotypical place? Like a public park or an Olive Garden. But nooooo, it always had to be the shady abandoned government facilities.)

"You seem to be thinking real hard over there, bub," Wolverine remarked, raising an eyebrow in question.

"Oh, y'know, just the usual, like what your abs would taste like if I covered them in whipped cream. Would it be more salty, or sweet? Do you think they'd taste metallic if you'd been roughed up lately?" Wade slid back into his typical persona instead of lingering on his unhelpful desire to mope around until he could go home.

Other-Logan snorted. "I think you're thinking way too hard about my abs when you should be focusing on your plan for when we get to the base."

Wade pouted, "Awwww, c'mon, Wolvie, don't you know that my pleasure comes before our job? You only live once, fuck capitalism and all that."

"Without capitalism, you wouldn't have the money to get 'pleasure,'" Logan deadpanned.

"Ah yes, you're right. I'm but a humble servant to the almighty Capitalism King. I shall kill and show no mercy as long so long as my king asks for it." Wade clutched a hand over his heart dramatically, voice imitating sincerity but a few pitches too high.

Logan just shook his head and chuckled, trying and failing to suppress the grin that threatened to stretch across his face.

It looked good on him. A far cry from the serious, no-nonsense, version he'd first encountered. Who knew all it took to have someone open their heart to you was revealing you were besties in an alternate universe?

"We're here," Logan grunted, smirk falling off his face as he climbed out of the vehicle.

"Fucking finally! One hour longer and I think I'd puke all over your shiny yellow suit," Wade whined obnoxiously. Logan elbowed him harshly in response. Ouch. Manners.

The base was exactly what you'd expect. Just run down enough to not attract suspicion but just well-kept enough to be home to some freaky villain technology.

And, also as expected, as soon as they entered a blaring alarm went off. Flashing red lights and all. Just great, exactly what he needed today. Wade was definitely going to end up with a headache by the end of this raid. They're lucky he didn't have epilepsy or he'd sue them.

Wolverine didn't seem to be faring much better, judging by his furrowed eyebrows and how he was barely holding back a grimace.

They make quick work of whatever lackeys they find as they tear their way through the halls. They'd definitely improved their synchronization during the time they'd spent fighting together (mainly on Wolverine's part).

Finally, they arrive at some sort of convoluted metal dome with a suspiciously alien-looking machine in the middle. It didn't seem to be an exact replica of the Time Ripper Wade knew, but it was close enough to make an educated guess about its purpose. (An educated wish, some may say.)

Unfortunately, it wasn't left unguarded.

Some old-looking bald guy (never a good sign) with a metal arm (again, never a good sign) was holding a suspiciously futuristic gun. (Who is this, Cable's long-lost twin with a receding hairline gene?)

Deadpool unsheathed one of his katanas, gripping his gun tightly with his other hand. Wolverine shifted into a battle stance beside him.

"And what do we have here?" The man drawled, his piercing gaze sweeping over them both. "Deadpool and... Wolverine? An interesting team-up." Despite this, he didn't seem too surprised. If anything, he seemed to be glancing warily at Wolverine beside him.

"I don't have time to listen to your monologue, how about you just undo whatever fucky-wucky stuff you did to the timeline and we all head our separate ways, yeah?" Wade was nothing if not merciful for offering this fucker a chance to stand down before it got ugly.

"I don't think so," the man huffed, as if he found it amusing that he'd even suggest that. He was starting to get on Wade's nerves.

"Then let's cut the chit-chat and get straight to the ass beating." Deadpool nodded at Wolverine, who smirked almost imperceptibly.

They both lunged at the same second, Wolvie swiping at the bastard's head while Deadpool fired at his legs and torso.

Oh fuck, this guy has a regenerative healing factor too, Wade groaned internally when he saw the bullet wounds stitch themselves up. Just his luck.

The battle was more difficult than expected, but they managed to hold up fairly well by bouncing off each other's attacks. When Wade moved in, Logan moved out. When Wolverine sunk in his claws, Deadpool fired his gun or slashed with his katana.

That was until the bastard injected himself with some sort of serum, like a heroin addict stopping to shoot up during a fight.

That better not be what I think it is, Wade grimaced.

It was exactly what he thought it was.

Fighting a meaner-looking, more equipped version of Cable was hard enough, but on steroids? Wolverine and Deadpool soon began to lag behind. Even their teamwork couldn't help much when the opponent was that much stronger and they both were becoming exhausted.

However, Deadpool saw an opening. The fucker wasn't guarding his flank properly. And so, without warning, he flipped over the asshole's head and slashed at his side at the same moment Logan sank his claws into his neck. (Yay, teamwork!)

It seemed to hit some sort of weak point because the man slumped down onto the ground, unconscious. Wade sighed in relief and walked over to Logan.

"Hey man, I don't know about you, but when we get out of here I think we should get some chimichangas to celebrate—"

Bang.

Wade was flung into the wall with the sheer force of whatever futuristic weapon the man shot him with. Fucking rat bastard.

His head began spinning with the force at which he'd been full-body slammed against the wall. His vision was blurred and it was hard to make out shapes, but it seemed that Logan was having the same issue, given the red, blue, and yellow spot on the wall opposite him.

His vision was dancing with black dots and colors bled together, but through the haze he could make out the man they'd fought getting up and limping away, seemingly talking to someone as he did so.

Wade groaned and tried to lift his hand up to feel the wound on his head when he noticed. There were fragments embedded in his suit where he'd hidden it.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

In his haze, he managed to yank the tattered remains out of a device from his suit. Oh shit. It was broken.

How the hell was he supposed to get home now?

He didn't have time to linger on the question before darkness overtook his vision.

---

Logan paced back and forth on the shitty hardwood floors of their one-bedroom apartment.

Where the hell was he?

Wade was supposed to be back a month ago. Hell, the mission was only supposed to take a day and he said he'd be back for dinner that night.

But then that night passed, and Wade didn't show. Logan had waited at the table, bouncing his lex anxiously (although he'd deny it if anyone asked) long after Al reluctantly went to sleep and Mary Puppins settled down for the night. He remembered waiting, staring blankly at his plate but unable to stomach a bite, until he finally decided to put their food in the fridge to reheat later. He felt vaguely nauseous at the idea of eating peacefully while Wade was still frolicking about, fighting bad guys (and potentially getting hurt).

Logan fell asleep in that position, his head resting on his arms, hyperaware and jolting awake at the slightest sound. Waiting to hear the jingle of the doorknob and the sound of Wade shuffling in.

When Wade came back, Logan would tell them that he didn't care what the mission was about or what type of universe it was, he'd come with him next time. No room for arguments. He'd rather be bleeding and bruised by Wade's side than feel the gnawing emptiness and anxiety of being apart from him.

Logan never dealt well with separation. Not when it came to Wade. The only person who made this universe he'd barged his way into a home. The one who'd looked at him—a pathetic, miserable, drunk, mess—and still asked him to come home with him. The only person to make him feel like he belonged somewhere, to someone. That he wasn't just an unwanted, shunned monster who could only be loved for the destruction he could cause.

When Wade was gone, it felt like he was alone again. Like he was back in that shitty universe where even the fucking bartender refused him service unless he begged. Where everyone mocked him or shied away but nobody looked him in the eyes.

Wolverine was used to being alone. He'd been alone, in one way or another, for as long as he could remember.

But that's why he latched violently, viciously, desperately, onto the first lifeboat he could. The first person to yank his head above the water and welcome him onto their raft without expecting anything.

The next morning came and Wade still hadn't come back.

Logan tried to convince himself that it was just taking a second longer, that maybe he'd encountered an obstacle, that everything was still okay.

(Don't be overbearing, Logan. If he sees what a needy, writhing, mess you are then he won't want to be around you anymore. He'll finally wise up and leave you behind like everyone else. Like how you deserve. He'll finally see you for the pathetic creature you are instead of the delusion of a man he's been holding onto.)

But then that day turned into two. Turned into three. Turned into nearly a week in which he hadn't heard a word from Wade.

(Accept things how they are, Logan. Take the warmth you can get and savor it, clutch it so tight to your chest that your fingers bleed, and don't ask for more. Don't ruin this.)

Blind Al had tried saying something, once, about how Wade might just be running that. That he was having troubles, you know how it is (but even she had a worried crease to her brow, the slightest bit of hesitation that spoke volumes). Logan had grunted something he couldn't remember and kept pacing.

It felt like every day was an endless loop. Wake up, choke down what food he could, and wait anxiously. Wait to see if Wade would stroll through the door.

Until one night, he snapped. He'd just gotten out of the shower (the first he'd taken in a while, with how difficult it was to focus on anything but Wade Wade Wade Where is Wade Where—) when he noticed Wade's shitty music box was playing. The one he had of him.

He saw red. The next thing he knew, he stood in a completely trashed living room. Chairs were knocked over and splintered, bottles were shattered, and blood was splattered across the walls from where he'd raked his claws up and down his arms in a desperate attempt to get out of his skin because it was burning so badly and he just wanted to crawl inside Wade instead of being trapped in a useless fucking husk of a mindless animal—

He barely scraped the room back together by the time Al got back. He knew she was able to tell, but she didn't say anything. Just sat down on the tattered couch and murmured something that suspiciously sounded like Wade's name.

Logan was barely functioning. It was a Good Day if he managed to eat, shower, and not drink himself into a stupor by night. Every day that went by made the knot in his stomach twist further until he could barely remember what it felt like to not be on edge constantly.

(He knew it was pathetic. That he should be better than this. That he shouldn't need Wade to babysit him to make him want to eat and sleep and shower and do all the things that normal people were expected to just do. He knew that he shouldn't revert back to a state of depression and anxiety when he was gone but Logan didn't know what to do. He'd been fucked up for so long that he didn't know what okay meant anymore, didn't know to just breathe without clenching his teeth and forcing his lungs to expand and contract.)

(The only time he got relief from the reminder of who he was and what he'd done was with Wade, who knew him and still somehow wanted him. Who made him feel normal, like he could just be Logan and live a domestic life as a borderline househusband in their apartment. Who made him feel like he had a future and a chance at happiness again.)

At first, he could convince himself that it was just the mission holding him up. That he was being unreasonable. (Why didn't Wade just take him along to begin with? He'd let Wade talk as long as he wanted, take the lead, and annoy him however he liked as long as he could be with him.)

But then doubt began creeping in. What if Wade realized that he really was the Worst Wolverine? What if this universe's Wolverine was better than him—nicer, stronger, less fucked up—and Wade preferred him. He wouldn't blame him. Hell, he knew Wade only settled on him because of a time crunch and the fact that he didn't claw his eyes out immediately. If Wade had more time, he would've gone with a better option.

(Logan chose to ignore the instinctive dread he felt at that thought. What if Wade hadn't come for him? What if he found another Wolverine and he was left to be drunk and miserable for the rest of his life, never knowing Wade's presence? The thought made him physically ill.)

But Wade, despite what people said, was a man of his word. He kept his promises and tried to avoid lying. Even if he did decide to fuck off and find another Logan, he'd tell him first. He'd let him know, at least.

As the time crept closer to a month, Logan's anxiety reached an all-time high. If Wade was taking this long, something must've gone horribly wrong. He's in danger.

Logan couldn't pace back and forth anymore, listening to the TVA rattle excuse after excuse when he called them to ask for an update. (It's confidential, they said. Don't worry, they said. Eventually, they got so used to him calling—without fail, twice a day, once in the morning and once at night—that they'd immediately forward him to the line he needed. And they'd always give the same excuses.)

Not anymore.

Logan was going to find Wade, even if he had to rip the whole fucking TVA or multiverse apart to do so.

---

Wade groaned, slamming his forehead against the counter before eating another spoonful of cereal.

The X-men still hadn't found a way to fix his universe-hopping device. To be fair, back in his universe it'd taken a while to fix Cable's time-jumping one, and Wade's sure that dimensional travel adds a whole new level of complexity. The TVA does not fuck around with their technology.

That being said, at least the rest of the X-men were starting to take the timeline issue seriously. They'd finally all decided to pitch in and try investigating on their own time.

"Look alive a little, bub, we're going on a mission today." Logan eyed Wade as he continued to eat his high-protein classic bacon and scrambled eggs breakfast.

The other X-men eyed them curiously. Logan had been acting differently as of late. Ever since Deadpool had come to their world and began hanging around him, he'd softened around the edges. He'd become a little more open, actively engaging with conversation instead of tuning in and out.

It was... nice to see him close to someone. To see him look at someone with an odd sort of affection visible in his eyes. Even if it was a little jarring.

(A few wondered what Wade had done to earn his affection. How a single man could swoop in and do what they'd been trying to do for years. What was so special about him? Why couldn't they reach him earlier? What were they doing wrong?)

It was good to see him be close to someone. Even if it stung a little that Wade made more progress in a month than they'd made this entire time.

Aside from that, the X-men had been able to interact with Wade more ever since he started spending a bit more time at the mansion.

When he'd gotten knocked out and his dimensional travel device broken, it'd taken a few days for him to fully regenerate (and mentally recuperate). During that time, him and Logan seem to have developed an odd kinship. A casual, friendly relationship where they eat meals together and occasionally, in between missions, watch shows together, or just... talk.

It was a little unnerving to see Logan so willing to act almost domestically with someone else. Of course, the X-men had managed to coax Logan into hanging out with them more casually. And sometimes, they'd gotten the privilege of seeing how his shoulders would relax and he'd become content to just listen and soak up the company. But those occasions were few and far between, and Logan's default state was to keep a certain degree of distance.

Wade had begun to interact with the other X-men, too. He'd taken to teasing Colossus to pay him back for the many headaches he'd given him in his world. Logan often trailed a few steps behind, trying and failing to pretend to be engaged with something else while keeping an eye on Wade. It'd be endearing, almost, if it wasn't so out of character for him.

Unfortunately, after the villain had escaped, their luck seemed to dry up. They'd only gotten a few leads since, and all were dead ends. With too much time to spare and too much pent-up energy (and anxiety to some degree over being away from his world for so long), Wade accompanied Wolverine on a few of his other missions.

Wade sighed and pushed away the remainder of his cereal. Well, there went his appetite. Thinking about his world and his Logan was a surefire way to kill his mood.

(It made him feel sick to think about how Logan was faring without him. To question when he'd get to see him again. To remember that this wasn't His Logan. It was always uncomfortable to be away from him for too long, to feel the same loneliness settle inside him like an old friend. What a joke. He saved the world just so he could whine about how he wanted it to revolve around him.)

(Logan never made him feel that way. He understood how it felt to lose everyone and still tremor at the thought. He understood the struggle of knowing you'd outlive everyone you love. He understood because they'd been through it together. Because they'd shared their pain and their feelings and their hearts and bared themselves, raw and vulnerable and bloody, before each other and still sacrificed themselves for each other anyway.)

"Not in the mood?" Logan asked. "Y'know, we have other types of cereal. Think they keep Captain Crunch or Cheerios or some shit around here."

And Wade almost screamed in frustration.

It was so stupid. Logan was trying to help. But Other-Logan wasn't His Logan.

His Logan knew that he hated that type of cereal. That he drenched his pancakes in syrup. That he was a picky bitch with food and would only eat certain brands. He'd learned to cook food just for him so that he could eat comfortably.

He was about to take a few centering, deep breaths (never claim he doesn't know how to be zen) before an alarm blared.

"There's been a break-in in the main lobby of the mansion!" someone shouted.

Huh. That's a convenient way to get information. A very good way to move the plot along.

The X-men around him were tense, drawing their weapons and preparing to investigate who dared intrude. Wade got ready too, drawing his baby knife just in case. (Not that he really can take the moral high ground here, considering he did the same just a month ago.)

Other-Logan glanced at him from the corner of his eye and Wade nodded. The two slinked along the walls, braced for an attack.

Loud crashing noises could be heard from the lobby. Furniture slammed against the wall, shattering into a million splinters (strong ass motherfucker, it seems). There was yelling and screaming and... growling?

The cacophony got louder as they drew closer. Except, Wade began to recognize the sounds. They were distinct, clear, and... familiar.

Too familiar.

Holy shit.

"Logan?" he breathed, and then he was darting out from behind the wall even as Other-Logan let out an aborted shout and attempted to grab his arm.

He slipped through his grip and turned the corner, and lo and behold, there he was.

His Logan.

He was snarling, claws unsheathed and raised to attack the people who swarmed him. They all seemed terrified and incredibly confused (given that he had the same face as one of the X-men themselves), but seemed to recognize him as an enemy and were making a quite frankly pathetic attempt to fight back.

He was breathing heavily, sweat dripping down his forehead and eyes darting around anxiously. He had a feral look on his face, like a cornered animal that had just escaped his captors.

His eyes were somehow distant and hyper-focused, as if he was running on pure adrenaline without really registering anything.

He looked furious. He looked serious. (He looked scared.)

It was the sweetest sight he'd ever seen in his life.

"Peanut!" Wade shouted, pushing through the people who crowded around.

Logan's head snapped in his direction immediately, body trembling.

"Wolvie! Babygirl!" he continued to yell out nicknames as he drew closer, finally elbowing past the last line of unhelpful bystanders.

"Logan," he murmured breathlessly, reverently, at finally getting to see him again. To see him up close and personal.

As soon as he muttered the word, Logan pounced.

From behind him, Other-Logan and a few of the X-men yelled for him to move out of the way, that he was hostile.

But Wade knew that face. Knew those eyes.

This wasn't just A Logan, this was His Logan.

(His Logan, who knew how he liked his pancakes. Who listened to him rant about stupid conspiracy theories and children's shows. Who had gone through hell and back with him just to help him save his family. Who he'd slowly, painstakingly built a home with.)

And so Wade simply opened his arms and offered a shaky, wet, smile as Logan barreled into him, wrapping around him like he'd die if he let go for a second. Digging his fingers (with the claws retracted, luckily) into his back and gripping onto the fabric of his suit like a lifeline. Shivering against him as if he were a man stranded in a blizzard, finally able to huddle up against a fireplace.

And oh.

Logan was crying, hot tears trailing down the curve of Wade's neck and soaking his suit as Logan nuzzled closer, desperately.

When Wade went to stroke the back of Logan's head and brushed against his own damp face, he realized he was crying too.

He'd been trying so desperately to push down his feelings. Of frustration, of anger, of sadness (of fear). To pretend he didn't miss Logan like he missed air, to pretend that the separation wasn't putting him on edge.

He knew that Logan would worry about him. Wade wasn't that oblivious. But he didn't think Logan would be nearly full-body sobbing against him, rocking back and forth, trying to convince himself that Wade was real.

"Please, never do that again. Don't leave."

And oh.

Wade knew that Logan cared. Knew that Logan would be upset, would miss him, if he disappeared or died. Logically, he knew that.

But Wade was used to being seen as annoying. To being someone people could begrudgingly tolerate, maybe occasionally find funny, but never actively want. Was used to being seen as lesser.

Physically, he was a freak. Mentally, he was a wreck. Emotionally, he was one bad day away from trying (and failing, yet again) to end it all.

He didn't understand how someone could want him. Could need him. Could make him their whole world and cradle it in their hands like his absence would be the collapse of their very foundation.

And yet, here Logan was.

When Wade considered it, it was obvious in hindsight. Logan may respond to his insults, and may be up for a fight, but he never actually seemed to be bothered by Wade. When Wade called him stupid nicknames, he may grumble out a response, but never showed actual annoyance. When Wade slung an arm around his shoulder, he'd let it rest there or lean in closer instead of pushing it off. When Wade goaded him into a fight, he'd rise to the challenge but never unsheathe his claws unless Wade drew out his knives, too.

In fact, he'd only shown true irritation when they'd first met. When Wade had kidnapped him and turned his life on his head. When they were struggling under high-stress situations while Logan grappled with grief.

Logan... more than cared. More than tolerated his existence. More than reluctantly put up with him.

The realization was so obvious and yet it hit Wade like a freight train. This whole time, he'd been trying to convince himself that his feelings were one-sided, that he was abnormal for latching so hard onto Logan while he only humored him in response.

He'd let his self-hatred blind him to the most obvious fact of all: Logan needed him too.

He clutched Logan's back tighter, murmuring reassurances and apologies into the top of his head.

"I'm not leaving you, Wolvie," Wade whispered, "you'll have to kill me to get me to stop haunting your ass."

Logan grumbled, "You aren't allowed to die on me. You can't leave. Ever."

"I won't, I won't. You came and got me. I'm not going anywhere."

While Wade and Logan had their reunion, the crowds were herded away until only a few X-men remained. They stared at the two, bewildered.

"...Is that seriously Logan?" Jean murmured to Scott.

"It looks like him... but..." he gestured to the scene in front of them.

They'd never seen Logan break down before. Had never seen him so vulnerable. He'd never let anyone as close as he was to Wade, right now. Not even a fraction as much.

They cast contemplative and vaguely concerned glances at their world's Logan. He was staring hollowly at the scene in front of him.

It was so... odd to see himself like that. Open. Emotional. (Safe enough to let himself be that way.)

Wade had never acted that way with him, either. Tears welling up in his eyes, looking at Logan as if he hung the stars in the sky and set his universe back in balance again.

(Logan looked back at him with the same fervency, as if Wade was his universe. The stars and the sun and the planets all in one.)

It made that familiar envy curl in his gut. Before, it'd been muted by the fact that Wade's Logan was just a story. He was the one physically with him, able to get to know him and learn about him and get his undivided attention and time.

It felt nice. To be understood. To be able to treat someone as an equal, a companion, without worrying about them pulling away if he revealed too much. He'd gotten used to Wade's presence, to the comfort it brought.

However, it looked like he was going to have to confront the version of him that made it all possible.

Wade and Logan had finally calmed down, holding each other more loosely and letting the tension bleed away. Logan nearly collapsed onto Wade as he came down from the adrenaline high, feeling the exhaustion and anxiety of the past month hit him all at once. He was in Wade's arms and finally able to process his emotions now that he was home.

Other-Logan approached them carefully, schooling his face into the typical mask of calculated indifference.

However, despite that, there was a sharpness to his tone as he tersely spoke to his counterpart, "Nice to meet you, other me. It seems you've managed to find your way into our mansion."

"Yeah, well, the mansion was holding something of mine, so let's call it even," Logan near growled, glaring at himself.

It'd almost be funny if not for the tension crackling in the air between them.

"Woah, woah, woah," Wade placated, "we've all made our mistakes. I'm guilty too, your honor. Let me just have some time alone with dear Wolvie here and we can all have a group therapy session later to talk about our feelings."

Other-Logan looked at Wade, a searching look in his eyes. Wade met his gaze steadily, smiling slightly to reassure him that it'd be OK.

Finally, he sighed and moved away to let the other X-men gawk.

It was going to be a long night.

[ursa-tan]

Pervert König part 2; he's just constantly trying to get away with staring and touching y/n, to the point where they try to have a quickie on a mission that almost goes wrong? Just an idea-

How kinky can he get?…

König x reader

Requested

Part 1, Part 2

After your little fiasco, he can’t help but try and get his hands on you any chance he gets… it nearly goes badly.

Reader uses callsign blue because I couldn’t think of anything else… I’m writing this at 2:37am where I am, cut me some slack

König has been relentless since you invited him to your room. Wondering hands and eyes becoming ceaseless when he thinks no one is looking. It doesn’t help that you’ve been left alone together, isolated on the roof of a building.

“How copy Blue?” Price’s voice calls through your comms, forcing you to remove one hand from the sniper rifle to answer. It unsteadies the gun slightly, but you manage.

“All clear up here Captain. Target not yet spotted.” Its a standard response that conveys everything anyone would need to know.

“Good. We’re still scouting on the ground, we’ll let you know if we see anything,” Price replies, talking about him and Gaz. Soap and Ghost were off somewhere else, but knowing the Lieutenant, everything would be fine.

“Mein schatz…” König mumbles. He’s laying on his stomach beside you, not paying attention to the gun he seemed so desperate to hold not even that long ago. “You look so pretty laid out like that…”

“Not now, the target could appear at any moment,” you shift slightly, pulling your snipers hood to adjust it. You can’t risk being seen by anyone who doesn’t already know you’re there, the mission is too high stakes.

König elects to ignore your hushed warning, placing his large palm on the back of your thigh. It rests just above your knee. For a moment, you think he’s going to leave it there, but then it starts to slide up your leg.

His gloves catch on the fabric slightly, causing it to bunch and pull as he moves his hands upwards. It’s driving you mad that you can’t push him away - a moment away from the scope could be the difference between making the shot and botching the mission.

“Just let me feel you mein schatz…? Please?” His voice is pathetic as he whispers out the plea. For a man so big, he sounds so small.

“König I can’t mess this shot up,” you growl. Nothing in you wants to tell him to stop but you have to anyway, so you settle for a compromise - or at least it seems that way to you.

“That wasn’t a no~” suddenly, his voice becomes a purr. His hand shifts, gripping the inside of your thigh and sliding up.

It takes him seconds before his fingers are at your core, two of them massaging your cunt through the fabric of your trousers. Everything in you has to fight to stop you from pushing back against him, grinding yourself into his fingers.

“Keep your eyes on the streets mein schatz,” König says, like he wasn’t practically begging for you to let him distract you just moments ago.

“I’m trying,” you hiss out through clenched teeth. He only chuckles in response, massaging your cunt in just the right way.

Barely any time passes before you can feel warmth growing between your legs. Your body is begging for him, to be touched properly, to grind back into his hand and forget about everything else.

Apparently, you don’t have to worry about it, as König is hoisting your hips up the best he can without shifting your head too much. You don’t get a chance to ask him what he’s doing as he reaches underneath you and undoes both your belt and your trousers.

“König I need-” you try in vain to get him to stop, a verbal slap in the wrist wouldn’t stop this man.

“I will be gentle.” Is all you get in response as he works your trousers down your thighs, letting them rest just below your knees. This gives you the chance to drop your hips again, giving you a steadier view down the scope and into the streets.

This peace doesn’t last long, however, as his hands starts groping and caressing your thigh again. He keeps it mid thigh for a moment, indulging in the softness and the warmth of your skin.

Soon enough, his hand is following the same pattern as before, sliding up your bare leg and towards your core. He takes a momentary detour, gripping the fat of your ass in his palm and giving it a firm squeeze. Part of you knew it would’ve been a rather loud slap had it not been for your current location.

Ultimately, König’s hand comes back to rest over your clothed cunt. His hand feels almost unnaturally warm, calloused fingers gently pressing against your warmth. He’s almost mimicking the same pattern he would pulse his fingers at if he were fucking you.

“It is so hard to keep my hands off of you~” König growls, his middle finger finding your clit through your panties. He rubs it, small, slow circles over your sensitive bundle of nerves.

“I- I Can tell.” You readjust your rifle, shouldering it slightly differently. It’s a desperate, failed, attempt at distracting yourself from König’s ministrations.

“Shhh, concentrate,” he chuckles lowly, almost to himself. It feels like he’s making fun of you as he does.

You don’t get a chance to respond though, as König presses down on your clit in just the right way. Your body jumps slightly, tensing in pleasure for just a second before you relax again.

As much as you try to fight it down, anger bubbles up inside you. They couldn’t been the difference between making the shit and botching the mission.

“König I—” your body jolts again, this time with the sensation of the crotch of your panties being pulled aside.

König’s now ungloved fingers are pressing against your slick cunt. He slides them back and forth through your slick, gathering it up on his first and middle finger. You know exactly what he’s going to do and you don’t have the heart - or the chance - to stop him.

His fingers are slipping inside you before you can say anything. They slide in to the knuckle, completely buried inside you. Everything about him is so massive that even just a couple of his fingers provide you with an amazing stretch.

König only gives you a few seconds before she starts to curl his fingers into your sponges sweet spot. They’re slow, deliberate, *teasing* curls that are already causing heat to flood to your core.

It’s such a delicious feeling that you eyes start to unfocus . Pleasure starts to trickle through your body, staring at your stuffed cunt and spreading outwards. It’s a sensation that causes the rope in your belly to tighten a lot faster than you thought it would.

“König I’m… Fuck…” is the only words you can mumble out while still looking down your sniper’s scope.

“Don’t worry, cum for me~” König purrs, fingers continuing to work the same, perfect rhythm.

“Target in sight. Take the shot Blue.” Price’s voice suddenly crackles through your headphones just as you feel yourself reaching your peak.

“Yes… sir…” it takes everything in you not to stutter. König’s continued movements don’t help, but but some miracle, you take the shot and eliminate the target.

What you don’t realise is that König has not only stopped but also pulled his fingers out. The stress of the situation holds you from noticing until he’s pulling your trousers back up and you realise that you never came while he was finger fucking you.

“What? That’s not fair!” You whisper shout, already staring to move towards the exit.

“I was distracting you mein schatz, you said you needed to be concentrating.”

“…fuck.”

[simping4villains]

Here’s a part 2 of the Shigaraki oneshot I posted awhile back (since some of y’all were asking for it). I do have both parts posted on both my wattpadd and ao3 account under the same username (along with many other fics). I think i’m going to keep the story going, so check there for more regular updates! <3

~~~~~

Warning: Sexual content

It had been a couple of weeks since that night in Tomura's apartment. You'd been avoiding him, not responding to his texts and dodging his calls, but he started threatening to stop by your apartment or the elementary school you taught at to check on you, so you finally agreed to see him.

He asked you to meet up with him at the South entrance of the mall where you'd first met. He was wearing the same black hoodie he'd worn on that day. Originally, you had thought he was just introverted and anxious, but now you realized that he probably wore it in an attempt to hide his identity. He didn't want to be recognized in public and have the heroes called in.

God, what an idiot you'd been. You were too naive, too trusting. Now you were in too deep.

"Y/n," he smiled when he saw you. "I wasn't sure you'd come."

Neither were you.

"Of course. I'm sorry if it feels like i've been ignoring you lately, i've just been so busy with my students," you lied. "It's almost winter break."

Tomura had never shown any signs that he'd be violent toward you, but you still weren't sure what he was truly capable of. You'd tried to do research on him and his villain group, but the media didn't have a ton of information. It seemed like he hadn't had any sort of life before the league—not one that you could find, at least.

"It's alright," he said, though you weren't sure if he really believed you or not.

"So, what are we doing? Your text was pretty cryptic."

"I was thinking we could grab a drink and talk."

You were confused. You'd never known Tomura to have much of a taste for alcohol. "Um, I'm not so sure there are any bars in the mall."

"That's okay, I know a place." He turned and started walking down the sidewalk, glancing at you over his shoulder. "Come on."

Alarms were going off on your head. He wasn't giving you enough information. You didn't like not knowing where he was taking you. Then again, you weren't sure how he would react if you refused to follow him. What choice did you have but to play along?

He led you to a bus stop, which only made you feel even more unsettled. When the bud arrived, you took note that it was headed for the Kamino Ward. It wasn't a place you were very familiar with.

Walking through the streets, you tried to guess which bar Tomura was bringing you to, but he kept passing them by. Eventually, the streets became less lively and more deserted. Many of the buildings looked abandoned, including the one that he finally stopped in front of.

"Well, here it is."

"I don't understand, is it like a speak easy or something?"

He gave an amused laugh. "I guess you could say that."

He slipped through the boards that covered the busted door, urging you to follow him. Against your better judgment, you did. The room inside was battered and covered in dust.

"There's nothing here."

"It's downstairs."

You started to feel nauseous. Had his plan been to just kill you all along? Did he not think he could let you live now that you knew who he was?

"Tomura, it's getting late, maybe I should get going. I promised my aunt that I'd stop by tonight. I don't want her to worry."

It was another lie, but he didn't have to know that. You wanted him to think you had places to be, people who would notice if you didn't show up, didn't answer their texts and calls. Your aunt had met Tomura before, so she'd probably give his name to the police if you went missing.

Then again, what had the police been able to do to stop him up to this point?

His smile dropped. You'd never seen him look so hurt. "I knew it. You really are afraid of me."

"Tomura, that's not it at all."

"Then just trust me. Please. Don't leave yet."

You nodded. "Okay."

What else could you say? What else could you do? If he thought you were a flight risk, that might only cause him to kill you sooner.

The two of you crossed the room to a door, which he opened to reveal a closet. You braced for an impact, thinking maybe he would use your confusion as a means to distract you while he knocked you out. Instead, he reached out to the back wall of the closet and pushed it forward, revealing it to be a hidden door. Beyond it was a set of stairs that led to the basement. As soon as he revealed this secret entrance, he pulled a hand out of his pocket and put it over his face. It was part of his villain costume—you remembered the chills it gave you when you'd first seen it on that special news report.

You followed him down and were surprised to find that there really was a bar in the basement of this abandoned building. There were a few people in the room, but the person who caught your attention was the man standing behind the counter, polishing a glass. His body appeared to be made of smoke or something. He looked up at the two of you as you entered.

"Ah, young master Shigaraki, you've returned."

A man sitting at the bar in a skin-tight suit turned toward the two of you. "Yeah, and it looks like he brought a friend. Who the hell is this, boss?!"

The girl sitting beside him, who couldn't have been more than 17, tilted her head and smiled. "Is she a new recruit?"

Tomura shifted awkwardly. You could feel the way he tensed with embarrassment. "This is Y/n. We've been seeing each other for a while now and I thought it was time for her to meet you."

"The boss has a girlfriend? Get it, boss!"

The girl hopped off of the stool she'd been perched on, running over to circle around you and size you up. "What a cutie! I wonder what your blood tastes like?"

Tomura wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you against him in a protective manner. "Maybe this was a mistake."

The girl laughed. "Oh, don't worry, boss! We're going to be best friends." She beamed at you. "My name's Toga."

The man in the suit hopped up to join you all. "And I'm Jin. But my villain name is Twice because I can duplicate myself and make copies of other people! I don't know if i'm the real deal or just a clone!"

"Don't overwhelm her," Tomura warned, his eyes narrowing at them between the fingers of the hand he wore.

"Oh, no, we wouldn't want to scare her off," one of the other members piped up from the corner of the room, his tone sarcastic. "God knows how hard it is for you to get a date."

You hadn't noticed him before, which seemed shocking now that your gaze met his. His body was covered in what looked like burn scars and even from across the room you could tell he had the most piercing blue eyes you'd ever seen. His demeanor was fairly casual, but still conveyed that he wasn't someone you'd want to mess with. He was a bit terrifying.

Any embarrassment Tomura felt was quickly melting into rage. It seemed he and this other league member didn't get along too well. Despite whatever internal conflict you were facing, you couldn't help but feel bad for him in that moment. Your hand brushed the one he had on your waist, just long enough for him to understand that it had been on purpose and that you'd intended for it to comfort him.

"Just ignore him," Tomura mumbled. "It's what the rest of us do."

"So, what's your quirk?" Toga asked, trying to shift the attention away from the other man.

Twice cut you off before you could answer. "Are you going to join the league? You totally should!"

You looked between Toga and Twice. You had been ready for Tomura to kill you, but nothing could have prepared you for this. "Oh, I—"

"No," Tomura snapped. "She's just here to better understand our cause."

You could feel the silent rage radiating off of him. In his eyes, these two had crossed a line by inviting you to be a part of the league. If it was something you'd decided for yourself, he would have welcomed you with open arms, but he wanted to protect you, and he knew that you would be safest if the heroes never found out about you.

The man in the corner scoffed. "Of course she isn't joining the league. Look at her. She probably couldn't keep up with us."

Tomura's fingers dug into your hip. He was trying to hold himself back, to keep his composure. If this man had been insulting him, he could've just ignored it, or even come back with his own sarcastic retort, but when it came to you—well, it was harder for him to brush it off.

"Y/n," the man behind the bar called. "Come and sit. Would you like some tea? I've always got it ready for master Shigaraki."

"Tea would be lovely," you smiled, glad for someone to diffuse the sudden tension.

You took a seat at the bar, trying to ignore whatever lecture Tomura was giving Twice and Toga about the way they'd ambushed you. You wondered whether or not the other man would get a lecture too. He didn't seem like someone who would really listen. . . or care.

"Sorry about them," the man said as he pushed a cup of tea across the bar to you. "Some of the newer members are so full of charisma. And Dabi, well, he's. . ."

"It's alright. I'm sure they mean well," you replied, forcing a smile. "I didn't catch your name."

"It's Kurogiri."

"Kurogiri," you repeated. "How did you end up becoming a bar tender for the league of villains?"

He laughed. "I am not just a mere bartender. It is my job to keep Tomura Shigaraki safe. I am his sworn protector."

"I didn't think the leader of the league of villains would need protecting."

"There are plenty of people who want to see his downfall—heroes and villains alike. Most don't agree with his mission."

You were about to ask what his mission was when you felt three fingers gripping your shoulder, telling you that Tomura wanted to leave.

"Kurogiri, I'll be in my room if you need me. Come on, Y/n."

He led you through the bar and down a hallway, stopping at the very last door. His room at the league's hideout was smaller than the one in his apartment, and somehow even less decorated. It was very reminiscent of a college dorm, though he had a full-size bed. On his desk you noticed he had a photo strip of the two of you that you'd taken on one of your very first dates. Besides this, his desk was almost completely bare.

"I'm sorry about them," he said as he took a seat on the bed, removing the hand from his face and setting it on the nightstand. "Maybe bringing you here was a mistake after all." His fingers found their way to his neck, mindlessly scratching lines in familiar tracks.

You moved to sit beside him, gently pulling his hand away from his reddening skin to hold it palm-up in your lap. "Toga and Twice seemed nice."

"I just thought maybe if you met everyone then you would see that we aren't as bad as the heroes make us out to be. You'd see that you don't have to be afraid of me."

"I'm not afrai—"

"Stop," he said, his eyes pinching shut like the words pained him to hear. "I feel like you can barely look at me now. You think I wouldn't hesitate to kill you, that your death would be just as meaningless to me as those who have died as collateral—a small sacrifice for my cause."

You didn't know what to say. You had hoped you'd been convincing enough, but Tomura had seen through it. He could tell things had changed between you. Your heart was racing now, wondering what he would do.

He turned to you, his eyes soft and pleading. "I would never do anything to hurt you, y/n—and I would gladly kill anyone who tried. I couldn't forgive myself if anything happened to you."

You swallowed, searching his eyes for any sign of deception, but ultimately decided that this was the truth. He didn't bring you here to kill you, he just wanted you to understand him.

"Kurogiri mentioned that a lot of people don't agree with your 'mission.' What is it you're doing?"

"I want to destroy the world that we live in. You don't know what's going on, so you don't understand how wretched it really is. From the ashes, I'll build a new world—similar to what you believe ours to be."

You had never seen this side of him before. He sounded so. . . evil. "But why do you have to destroy things first? Why can't you just try to make things better?"

He shook his head, pulling his hand away from you. "Society is too far gone. There is no 'making things better' as it stands. We need a fresh start, and I can give it to us."

You nodded slowly, processing everything he was saying. "And what would this new world of yours look like?"

"No more heroes who are only after the pay and praise of a job well done. Just people. People allowed to live their lives without being forced to worship these corrupt imposters."

You thought of your mother, who had been a hero and had died saving others. Had she really been so bad? Had she done it for the wrong reasons? You'd be lying if you said there was never a time where you thought her sense of justice had been selfish. Because of it you had grown up without a mother, without a father, isolated from the rest of the world, discouraged from using and training your quirk. You often wondered how different your life might look now if she had picked a different, more sensible career path.

He continued when you didn't respond. "No one is born a villain, they're created—they're spit out and shunned by this cruel world one too many times. I just want to live in a world where everyone is equal, where no one is treated differently for their quirks."

"Well, I guess. . . I guess that doesn't seem so bad."

He smiled and rested his forehead against yours, bringing a hand up to cup your jaw. "I don't want to live in that world without you by my side. I really do love you."

You held your breath and closed your eyes, weighing everything that he'd said. The man you'd spent the past few months with, Tomu, was sweet, shy, caring. Tomura Shigaraki, the leader of the league of villains, had a reputation for being something else entirely—cold, ambitious, and merciless. Before, you couldn't have believed they really were the same person. Yet sitting here, listen to him speak, it all came together. And you hated yourself because, despite it all. . .

"I love you," you whispered, as if you were ashamed to say the words too loud, afraid that might somehow make them more real.

He pressed his lips to yours, winding his hand into your hair, always careful to keep at least one finger away from you. He'd missed you those past few weeks. He was worried he had lost you. He wanted you to know how much you meant to him—how much he needed you. He had been a mess without you, barely eating or sleeping. He would have fallen apart completely if you'd left. He needed you to know that.

"I thought i'd lost you," he whispered between kisses, his voice like a plea, begging you to keep proving him wrong.

Honestly, you'd thought he'd lost you, too. You had every intention of ending your relationship by avoiding him. Maybe it wasn't fair to do it that way given how long you'd been together, but after learning who he really was, you worried that if you met up with him to end things then he might overreact and become violent. You couldn't have predicted that seeing him would instead make you change your mind.

"I'm still here," you told him, feeling ashamed of yourself. What would Aunt Marci think if she knew you were in love with a villain?

He pulled you onto his lap so that you straddled him, wrapping his arms around your waist so you were caged to his chest. "Are you sure tou don't hate me?" He asked. "You aren't only here telling me the things I want to hear because you're afraid of me?"

You frowned. "I wish that were the case. It would make this all a lot easier."

"You don't want to want to be with me, right? To love me?"

"Right," you agreed, your voice barely audible. You were worried how he might react knowing you were so apprehensive.

His expression didn't change. He didn't erupt into a fit of anger. He brushed the tips of his fingers through your hair before ghosting them along your jaw. "Then i'll just have to keep giving you reasons to want me."

Your lips met again and you melted in his arms. He ran a hand up the back of your shirt, pressing four fingers into your back so that he held you closer. You gasped at his touch and he took the opportunity to catch your bottom lip between his teeth, lightly tugging at it. It was all a painful reminder that, despite everything, you still burned for him.

   You were so weak.

He guided you back on the bed, spreading himself over you and bending to trail feather-light kisses along your neck. "I want to prove that you don't have to be afraid of me," he whispered, his breath tickling your skin.

"How are you going to do that?"

His teeth grazed along your neck. "I'll show you how gentle I can be."

"Tomura, I've already seen that side of you."

He lifted his head from your neck to meet your gaze. He was smirking. God, he was so beautiful. "Not like this."

You didn't even realize he'd grabbed your shirt until it disintegrated around you, flitting away from your body and leaving you feeling vulnerable beneath him, guarded only by the thin lace bra you wore.

He ran his fingers along the edge of it, humming to himself. "Pretty. I don't want to ruin it."

You frowned. "You know, I really wish you wouldn't ruin any of my clothes."

That made him laugh. He thought you were cute when you were mad. "I'm sorry, I didn't know it upset you so much. I just like giving you reasons to wear mine instead."

"I don't have a problem with wearing yours, I just don't want to have to keep spending money on clothes that actually fit me just for you to make them disappear in seconds."

"That's fair." He pressed his lips to your chest before trailing soft kisses down your stomach, stopping at the waistband of your jeans. "But it really is so much quicker to decay them," he said as he fiddled with your belt and zipper.

You lifted your hips to help him guide your pants off of your legs. You were surprised when he dragged your panties along with them, exposing you to him. He ran the tips of his fingers down your thighs before settling between your legs. Your breath hitched at the sight alone.

He wove his arms under your legs so that he could grip your hips, pulling you closer to him. Your heart raced as you felt his breath against your core.

"Are you gonna make it?" He asked. "You're looking a bit flustered."

"Will you quit teasing me?"

He flashed a devilishly playful smile. "I'm not teasing you. I fully intend to give you everything you want. It's not my fault if you lack patience."

He placed a gentle kiss on your clit, the rough cracks of his lips creating enough friction to make your toes curl, but it was the soft warmth of his tongue against you that finally drew a moan from your throat. He hummed his satisfaction, which only added to the sensations as he continued exploring your heat with his mouth.

"Tomura, fuck. . ."

Your hand moved to grip his hair, needing something to ground you in reality as pleasure overtook your body and clouded your mind. His tongue moved faster against your clit, rushing you closer to your orgasm. It wasn't long before you completely fell apart, pulling at his hair and crying out his name. Once you'd gotten past the peak of your climax, he moved to lay next to you. He propped himself up on his elbow and lazily ran a few fingers through your hair.

"I'm surprised," you said.

"What do you mean?"

"No games."

"I told you."

"Maybe you aren't so evil after all," you joked.

He laughed, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you closer. "Don't tell the others."

"I dunno, you might have to buy my silence," you teased.

"What's your price?"

You snaked a hand behind his neck and pulled him into a kiss, hooking your leg over his hip at the same time so you could press his body against yours. He smirked against your lips, chuckling to himself.

You broke away from him. "What?"

"Was that your answer?"

You avoided the question, instead tugging at his shirt. "This isn't fair. I'm practically naked."

"So that's a yes?"

"Will you just shut up and take your clothes off?"

He clicked his tongue, shaking his head at you. "So impatient. We'll have to work on that."

Despite his chastisement, he listened. He pulled his clothes off and threw them next to yours on the floor before reaching behind you to unhook your bra. His hands covered your breasts, careful as always to keep at least one finger off of you. Then, he leaned into your chest and replaced one of your hands with his mouth, sucking bruises on your skin and flicking his tongue against your nipple.

You bit your lip, trying to contain a moan, not wanting to seem anymore desperate, but it just became a whimper in your throat. You felt him smile against your chest and move his free hand down to between your legs. You were so wet that he slid two fingers in you like it was nothing. He scissored them back and forth, stretching you out as he continued toying with your nipples. You couldn't contain yourself any longer. You tugged at his hair as you moaned his name.

"What is it, baby?" He asked.

You grabbed at his hip, trying to pull him closer to you.

"You want something?"

"Stop teasing me. You said no games."

He feigned a sudden realization. "Ohh, you want me in here?" He thrusted his fingers deeper into you, making sure to curl them over your g-spot and drag another moan from your throat.

"Fuck. Yes."

He kissed your forehead. "Of course, baby."

With the hand that was on your chest, he steadied himself on the bed, and with the other he lined his tip up with your entrance. There were no games. He didn't tease you, he didn't make you beg, he just eased himself in until you were completely filled. You arched against him and dug your nails into his shoulders, loving the feeling of him stretching you out.

"Am I good to move?" He asked after a moment, gently brushing his nose against yours.

You nodded.

He slowly pulled his hips back before sinking into you again, repeating the motion over and over until he found a good rhythm.

His movements were different this time. Before, he had seemed desperate, slamming into you at a rough pace. Now, his stokes were slow, controlled, passionate—like he was using his body to show you all of the things he couldn't say out loud. He was begging you to stay, to love him, to give him a chance to be the person you'd originally thought he was.

And despite all of the alarms going off in your head, you knew you would.

You could feel the knot building once more in the pit of your stomach. He was pushing you closer to the edge with each languid movement, and you could tell by his breathing that he was getting closer too.

At one point he paused and grabbed one of the pillows from the bed, lifting your hips and setting you back down on it. The new angle that it provided was absolutely euphoric. He reached deeper than before, rolling his hips so that he hit all of the right spots.

"Tomura," you moaned.

"Does that feel good, baby?"

"Yes."

"Are you close?"

You nodded.

"You wanna cum with me?"

"Please," you begged.

"I gonna count you down, alright?"

"Okay."

"Five."

He moved his hand between you.

"Four."

He started drawing quick circles over your clit with his thumb.

"Three."

You could feel your pleasure coiling tighter and tighter.

"T-fuck-two."

You dug your nails into his skin, arching against him.

"One."

You both fell apart, panting and moaning as you let your pleasure wash over you. He caught your lips in a sloppy kiss before moving down your neck, trying to cover every inch of your skin. He wanted you to understand how much he loved you—how much he worshipped you. He wouldn't let you go so easily.

The two of you cleaned up and Tomura gave you another sweatshirt to borrow since he'd decayed your shirt. There was no bathroom attached to his room, so you had to go down the hall. You hadn't taken more than two steps on your way back to his room when you heard a mocking voice.

"Ohhh, Tooomura," He said in a tone meant to mimic your own. "God, it's fucking pathetic."

You turned to see the man from before—the one who'd been a jerk to you in the bar—leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets. Your cheeks felt hot—a combination of rage and embarrassment. Had he been listening in on you two?

"It's Dabi, right?" You asked. "Look, I don't know what the fuck your problem is, but will you just leave me the hell alone?"

He kicked off of the wall, closing the distance between you and getting in your face. "My problem is you. I've got big plans for my future and the league can help me see them through, but not if you're here. You're too much of a distraction. You'll just end up making Shigaraki soft—him and the rest of the league."

"I'm not trying to be a distraction," you insisted.

"Oh, please," he scoffed. "It's only a matter of time before you brainwash Shigaraki into thinking that what we're doing is pointless. Love is like a fucking poison."

He shoved past you and disappeared down the hallway. You must've seemed off when you got back to Tomura's room because a look of concern quickly spread across his face.

"Are you alright?" He asked.

"Fine," you replied, clenching and unclenching your fists as you kept your gaze trained on the floor. You were trying to keep your anger from bubbling over and causing you to do something stupid. How could Dabi think you were bad for Tomu? You wouldn't make him soft. You wouldn't make him give up on the world he was trying to create—a world where everyone was equal. Why would you?

"Are you sure?"

You finally looked up at him. Your determination was radiating off of you as you announced: "I want to join the league."

[thelazyangel4567]

Frank x Eddie Comic based off that one scene from Bee and Puppycat

Part 1 Part 2

[yoursweetinoccentdreams]

Bundle Of Joy | Tengen and his wives X fem Pregnant reader | PART 2 OF SWOLLEN

Warnings!: Sfw!, Home water birth, Nudity, fluff!

Parings!: Tengen Hinatsuru Suma Makio and fem reader

Y/N's POV: As im sitting in my rocking chair doing some casual online shopping for the nursery to prepare for the new baby, I suddenly see this cute newborn outfit as my eyes glimmer in awe. "Hina!" I call her from downstairs, "Yes? what do you need sweetheart? her eyebrows raise in interest. "Which color do you think i should ge-" Suddenly i feel water gush out of me, my eyes widen as panic takes over me. "Oh shit.." Hina curses under her breath, "TENGEN!!!!!!" Tengen downstairs on the couch, he sighs rolling his eyes thinking that one of his wives got into a disagreement. "What??" He yells back. "Y/N'S WATER BROKE COME QUICK!" Hina yells back down to him.

"Oh shit.. IM COMMING Y/N!" Tengen runs upstairs as Suma and Makio look at eachother as both of their eyes widen and their eyebrows furrow, coming from their room and are following not far behind Tengen. Tengen walks into the room, he carries Y/N bridal style downstairs into the living room setting her on the couch. "MAKIO! GO GET SHINOBU!" Tengen yells, Makio get's on the phone and calls Shinobu to come guide them of what to do as they all panic. "Okay.. Y/n im gonna need you to breathe in and out" Makio says, I nod."Okay.. Okay.." I squeeze my eyes shut as i feel a sharp pain washing over me intensely, I whimper due to being uncomfortable, embarassed, and overwhelemed by such feelings, also remembering what Makio said i start doing breathing techniques. Suma comes back with Shinobu panting hard gesturing that she ran all the way to her house. "Hey mama!" Shinobu says panting and rushing.

She reaches in her medical bag for a sethescope to listen to me and the babies heart. "Okay! it seems like shes going to go into labor in the next 24 hours, i hope you dont mind but i am going to have to stay here and make sure she gets through the birthing process well, considering.. i am the midwife." She smiles. Me and Tengen both nod, I groan at feeling another contraction. "Okay, Tengen please go get her a robe or something comfortable get pillows, blankets, ONLY water." Shinobu asks. "Okay ill be right back Y/N" he says as i nod. Makio and Hinatsuru starting to slowly calm down knowing proper aid is here, other than Suma's non-stop crying. "Are you okay babe?" Makio asks as she takes a step towards me to sit down and rub circle's into my tummy.

"I'm okay.. just uncomfortable." I say as i wince at another contraction. "Good" Makio nods at me kissing my cheek. "Im back with everything" Tengen says walking in. "here put this on" he says helping me stand up to take my clothes off and put on the white clean robe. Shinobu makes me special tea to soothe my nerves and to help with the pain. "Here.. I made you some tea it can help with the contractions.. i put some medicine in there too, be careful its hot." She says assuringly. "Thank you Shinobu i dont know what i'd do without your aid. I say smiling

Time Skip! "Tengen.. Please go run hot water in your master bathtub please." Shinobu asks Tengen, "Of course." He says running hot water into our master bathroom tub which has the biggest tub in the house. I start to cry as the contractions slowly get worse and worse each time knowing what time it is. "hey hey!, don't cry!" Suma says trying to calm me down. " OH yeah?! you're one to talk you moron!" Makio teasing Suma. "I wasnt even talking to you Makio!" I quickly grab Suma and Makio's hands, "Please dont argue like this, not at this time i really need the both of you.. ALL of you, im so scared i dont think i can do it" I confess as i start to cry. Makio and Suma both start "Shhh"-ing me trying to get the voices out of my head. "You're going to be great!, and you're going to be an AMAZING mom, WE are going to be amazing Mom's." Makio says, Suma nodding in agreement. "I love you guys.. thank you.. im so scared.. i really needed that" They start tearing up as they both take turns kissing me.

As i start to feel another contraction, "Y/N.. It's time" Shinobu says looking at me with determined eyes. "O-okay.." i say as Tengen and the girls rushing to my aid to help me stand up, Tengen picks me up bridal style and starts making his way over to the bathtub. I sit in the hot tub, not even caring or worrying about if its too hot or too cold. I look over to my side and see beautiful smelling melatonin candles lit, and there it is.. towels..blankets.. baby supplies.. medicine.. even a bassinet, only thing missing.. was the baby.

Tengen sitting behind me to give me support when i need it, with nothing but a robe and shorts Makio hina and Suma on the tile of the right side of me. "Okay.. Your cervix has dialated to 10 cenimeters, you ready to start pushing mama?" Shinobu asks looking up at me and Tengen. "m' scared.." as i reach for Tengen as He and Hinatsuru, suma are all holding me keeping me supported and comforting me, as Makio records this memory. "You ready? I know its gonna hurt but we have to get this baby outta you sweetheart" He says reassuringly "It will all be over before you know it, Mkay?" he says "I nod quickly at him and Shinobu"

"1,2,3 Okay.. Push.." She says as i make one push, I wince and groan in pain. I had stopped pushing as tears fall from my eyes, catching my breath and asking Suma to give me some water for some sort of "relief??" I calm down as i do another push.. "1,2,3 Push!" Shinobu screams as i Push with force, the babies head being halfway already out. "Okay.. There's the head!" Shinobu says excitedly as Tengen Suma Makio and Hinatsuru start grinning. "Ready for another one?, 1,2,3 PUSH!" She says as i push again. With one more push.. next thing i know is me groaning and breathing heavily as theres silence..

Wails can be heard.. The sound of a baby crying... OUR baby crying. Shinbou rushes to get the baby out of water and onto a towel as she starts rubbing the newborn up and down warming him up , drying him off. She takes a baby nasal and sucks up the mucus from his mouth ears and nose. "Hi baby boy!" she says cooingly at the baby to try?? and soothe him. She wraps him up in a towel and hands him back to me. "Oh my god.. hi!?" i say out of breath, as i lean my head against Tengens stomach leaning back.. I see hes crying. "Y/N.. You did.. such a flamboyant job!" I look over to see Hinatsuru, Makio, and Suma all weeping, all of the girls kiss me and give me hugs as Tengen is watching trying to make it seem like he isnt crying, as Shinobu watches in awe.

"Welcome to the world, little Bundle Of Joy."

[draculasfavoritewife]

Din Djarin x Reader Headcanons Pt. 2

Summary: You and the Mandalorian become something more than merely hunting partners.

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!Reader

Warnings: Me waxing ridiculously poetic about him. Implied smut towards the end.

Here it is! Part 2 of my Mando headcanons! Hope everyone enjoys the payoff! So sorry it's so long -- I sure had fun writing these :) Din Djarin is pretty much perfect, and anyone who thinks otherwise just hasn't seen enough of him.

*Translations of words/phrases in Mando'a at the end

A couple of weeks go by after the shower, and you avoid each other except when necessary, as if by an unspoken agreement

Din just needs the time to sort all his thoughts and feelings out, as he's suddenly questioning everything

So he comes off as more brusque and distant than usual, which is really saying something

You can see the turmoil seething underneath though, so you give him space and just hope his final conclusion isn't that he needs to be alone again

It ends up being the opposite

After a particularly deadly hunt in which you were both confronted with the very real possibility of the other one dying, you retreat to your makeshift quarters in the hope of sleeping off some of the distress that's still eating at you from the inside out

You don't hear his approach, since he's stripped off most of his beskar besides the helmet

But when you look up, he's looming sullenly over your bunk

You stubbornly stay silent, waiting for him to make the first move

"I can't...lose you"

He can't believe he's said those words so plainly, but there they are, hanging in the cold air between you

You find you can't speak or the tears might finally fall, so instead you cling to him, shoving your head into his shoulder and letting your fingers dig through his dark undershirt into his back

His answering embrace is crushing, and you remember just how deeply attached this man can become to another being

"Don't leave me, Din Djarin," you whisper "I love you"

He's quiet for a long moment, but this time you don't doubt him, you know he has a much more difficult time with intimacy than you do

"Cyar'ika" is what he finally chooses to hum, and that single word means more than any poetic verse or lengthy admission

"Stay with me tonight," you request softly as you finally pull back from his strong arms "rest with me in the darkness, let me hold you"

And he actually does

You can't really see him in the blackness, but your light mattress dips dramatically to his weight as he joins you, and you eagerly pull him to you as you both settle

Dank farrik, he's so warm as he lets you curl into his now bare torso -- you may never let this man sleep without you again

Perhaps it's because you both could've been killed today, but he exhibits none of his usual hesitancy as you burrow closer to him, his arms folding around you and skin meeting skin

This may just be the most relaxed you've ever experienced him

He's surprised you remember a few of his scars from that time you two showered together, and if they're ones he recalls, he tells you a few stories of how they came to decorate his body

You can't get enough of the way his voice growls deep in his chest against you, without all that armor in between

Although you know that it will be a long time before you ever get to truly see his face, you learn a few things about him, there in the dark, and it helps you imagine him a little better

You like the way his scruffy stubble scrapes against your cheek when he leans over to murmur in your ear; you hadn't expected him to be unshaven but you find the idea suits him

His hair is glorious, thick and slightly curling where it's longer, a tantalizing blend of silky soft and coarser strands, and after the way he stiffened the first time your hands strayed into it, he actually seems to enjoy the sensation of your fingers brushing through it

He talks to you more on this sightless, bare night than he has in probably your entire partnership so far

He lapses into his native tongue as sleep starts to overtake both of you, and even though you're rusty and don't understand all of the phrases, you're completely his as soon as you first feel the sensation of his full lips forming words against your shoulder and the back of your neck

The two of you rapidly become much closer after that night

It's not unusual for your hands to linger on each other when you're repairing the ship or during other quiet activities while you're alone

Though when on the hunt, you two maintain a very professional civility and not much else

He's become much more fiercely protective of you, though he'd deny it, but you see and it makes you smile

Shared showers become more commonplace, and he shares your bed on the nights you ask him to

But he's always long gone by the time you wake up

Mando'a is coming back to you the longer you stay with him, and sometimes the two of you converse entirely in that tongue for days

Your first kiss takes you by complete surprise, and he hadn't planned on it either

It was after a successful hunt in which you'd pulled an admittedly stupid stunt to come out on top, and no matter the fact that you were relatively unscathed, this man is angrier than a rancor that you would put yourself at risk like that for a few extra credits

You are his now, after all, and he's nothing if not ridiculously protective of what's his

"I never want to see you do something like that again" he seethes, and though he doesn't raise his voice you can hear the fury roiling underneath

"Stop fretting over it, Din, I'm here, aren't I? Nothing happened"

You hear the grating exhale beneath his helmet, too many emotions he's not familiar with surging to the surface from where he's bottled them up, but all he knows is that if you won't let his words pierce your thick skull, he'll have to show you what you mean to him

You can't keep back a yelp of shock as the lights go out

There's a click and a clang as he rips his helmet off, probably the most carelessly he's ever done it

And before you can process a thing he's nearly on top of you, and his lips are devouring yours, and kriff you never thought kissing him would taste so good

When he finally releases you so you can breathe again, his forehead is resting against yours, the Keldabe gesture you only faintly remember receiving from your buir, and it makes your heart ache to feel it from him

"Now" he huffs "I won't be seeing another stunt that foolhardy from you again, do I make myself clear?"

"Understood, Cyare"

He doesn't let you out of his grasp throughout the night

It takes a long time to eventually achieve further intimacy beyond a kiss, though you know he's thought about it, and you definitely do

Perhaps unsurprisingly, he's the one dragging his feet -- you've wanted this for a long time now -- but you didn't expect his reasoning for being reluctant

"How can you want us to share something so personal, when THIS is such a problem?"

You are completely lost when he vaguely gestures at his head, it takes a minute to process he means the fact that you haven't seen his face

"Din," you start, reaching up to trail a caress down the side of his visor to his breastplate "What if I were blind? Would you think my love for you less if I couldn't see you at all?"

That makes him think

"I know you, I've seen you at your best and your worst; I've slept beside you and learned all your scars with my fingers; but more than that, I see you here"

You place your hand over his heart, which you know from experience has most likely quickened at your gentle touch

"I love you, and if ever I am privileged to see your face I will only love you more, but I will not know you more, for I know you already"

"You are mine, Din Djarin, and you are mesh'la"

He can say nothing for a moment, too overwhelmed by your words and the fact that you respect him and his creed so deeply

It takes another few days of him turning it all over in his head -- though he's very good at making snap decisions, this is one that requires more consideration

He's quiet, and more efficient than ever during your next hunt, if that's even possible, and you can tell by his sharp movements that he's on edge

When you return to the ship, he gently but purposefully guides you to his quarters, a place you've hardly stepped foot inside for the entire time you've been here, and your heart starts beating erratically with anticipation

"Do you still want this?" he asks

"More than anything"

The darkness swallows you both in its welcoming embrace

Your Mandalorian is the lover you've always dreamed of; he can be gentle -- so soft with you it's maddening -- or rough enough to make you plead for more

He tells you in undertones just how highly he thinks of you, all the things he's always too stoic to say out loud, but your love seems to have finally loosened that stubborn tongue of his and you bask in it

You sleep that night in his bed, for the first time of many

And he's still there when you wake, as warm and solid as ever, one arm thrown around your body and his other hand twined in your hair, your foreheads pressed together, and dank farrik you love this man so fiercely you know you would kill or die for him

"Welcome back," he teases as he feels you shift against his body "You were out cold"

"And whose fault is that, Djarin?" you kiss him softly "I didn't think you'd still be here"

"I wanted to watch you wake up for once"

You smile and sink back into his hold, since he seems for once in no hurry to move his day forward

"Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, Din"

He brings your hands up to play with his hair, and makes a pleased sound deep in his throat when you pull a little -- who would have thought he would like that?

"Let's do this again sometime?" you hum

His chuckle, barely audible, thrums into your ribcage where his chest presses against yours

And his kiss, coupled with the reverent fingertips drawing heated trails up your spine, gives his reply more eloquently than words ever could

Eventually, life does remind you both that it stops for no one, and you rise to return to the more familiar routine of a pair of bounty hunters on the run

But, as it turns out, your Mandalorian makes an excellent NON-platonic shower partner as well -- the poor 'fresher wasn't ready for that much steam ;)

Cyar'ika = Sweetheart

Cyare = Beloved

Mesh'la = Beautiful

Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum = I love you; I will know you forever

[kissthebridee]

yall seem to like these so here's more, im gonna continue to make them its so fun

part 3 is here

[waty-art]

Stranger Danger part 2

This is part 2 of Stranger Danger. Thank you for reading! quick disclaimer, this one has a short scene with an attempted attack on the boys.

part 1

Years later, on the Halloween of Frank’s 18th year and Joe’s 16th, they were once again celebrating the holiday.

The two brothers barely went tricker treating after the incident when they were younger, but they would instead have a tradition of watching a scary movie and opening the door to tricker treaters.

This year, Frank and Joe were left at the house alone while their parents had left for one of dad’s business dinners.

Fenton and Laura had always been wary on this particular night after what had happened, and they almost decided not to go and leave the boys alone. Of course Frank and Joe reassured them they would be fine and wouldn’t be going outside recklessly, they had even decided to invite their friends Chet Morton and Biff Hooper to watch the movie and hang out.

Chet Morton was a stout, heavy set boy who had red hair and freckles. He was good friends with both boys and often had the two brothers laughing their heads off. They laughed mainly when something happened to Chet’s treasured jalopy which he had named “Queen”. When something befell the car the red head would go wild.

Biff Hooper was closer to Frank than he was to Joe, due to the fact that both blondes had gotten off on the wrong foot in middle school, due the fact that Joe was indeed the spoiled younger sibling and didn’t like how Biff was taking up Frank’s attention. Joe and Biff later grew out of their major rivalry and ended up becoming friends. They still bantered jokingly and liked to annoy each other.

Biff had his blonde hair cut short and was taller than Frank by a few inches, but had double the muscle Frank did.

Today Frank ditched his dress shirts because he couldn’t stand Joe nagging him to dress more causally for a whole day. He wore a large dark blue sweater and black jeans while Joe wore his “Bay Port High” basketball jersey over a black T-shirt with ripped blue jeans.

The four friends were currently alone at the house and were setting up for the movie.

“Joe! Help me get the plates for the pizza!” Frank called from the kitchen to Joe who was in the living room across from it.

The house had an open hallway by the front door which had the kitchen on one side and the living room on the other. The bedrooms were located up the large, dark wooden stair case.

“Yeesh! I’m coming Frank, calm down.” Joe retorted in annoyance as he sauntered into the kitchen and walked to the cabinets over the sink.

“Hey does anyone know where the popcorn is?” Chet questioned opening and closing cabinet doors rapidly in search of the snack.

“Dude, you’ve basically lived at this place, if anyone should know where anything is, it’s you.” Biff teased with a smirk as he strolled into the kitchen. “Also, Frank, where do you keep the soda?”

Frank gave Biff a deadpan expression. “Am i the only one who knows anything around here?” Frank exclaimed exasperatedly as he began to cut the pizza with the cutter roughly.

“No, I know something.” Chet interjected snidely. “I know that you guys don’t have any fricking popcorn!”

“Language.” Frank warned, digging the cutter into the pizza particularly hard.

Biff only chuckled as he watched Frank struggle with the pizza cutter. “Did you burn that thing’s crust because it looks like you are cutting into a rock.” Biff joked as he tried to take the pizza cutter from Frank so he could help.

“For your information, No I did not. Now go get the soda, it’s in the fridge you big idiot.” Frank stated sternly, yanking the pizza cutter away from Biff who raised his hands in mock surrender.

“Frank, is Biff bothering you?” Joe questioned as he stalked over with the plates in his hands.

“Ye-“ Frank started but Biff interrupted rapidly.

“Don’t sick Joe on me Frank.” Biff laughed nervously.

The four fools finally finished bickering playfully and got all the food laid out in the coffee table in the living room which stood in front of the leather couch.

“Alright, we are doing this by popular demand!” Joe announced standing in front of The TV. “we have three selections to choose from.”

The majority ended up voting for “The Village” much to Frank’s dismay. He absolutely hated that movie and knew it would be picked when Biff said he never saw it.

Joe always played it just to mess with Frank and get him to flip out when a jump scare happened.

The group began taking their seats on the long couch.

Frank sat in the middle seat which was usually his designated spot for movie nights, and Biff tried to sit next to his best friend but Joe was faster. Joe zipped from in front of the TV to Frank’s side almost instantly, plopping down smugly next to his brother who rolled his eyes at the two’s playful shenanigans.

Biff laughed then sat on Frank’s other side while Chet sat on Joe’s.

They were 20 minutes into the movie and Frank had already gotten frightened and spilled the popcorn when he jolted from a jump scare. This happened two times more until Joe ripped the popcorn bowl from his hands and revoked his snack privileges.

Chet also flipped out a bunch of times already, and a pizza slice had landed on Joe’s lap in the process.

Biff laughed heartily and Joe scowled at him grumpily. Everyone was enjoying the movie, some more than others, when the doorbell rang.

“Oh yeah, this is about the time when tricker treaters start trickling in.” Biff observed.

“I got it!” Frank offered a little more eager than he meant to, causing everyone on the couch to laugh. Frank stood up and began walking out into the hallway, grabbing the candy bowl on his way out.

Now do you remember how calm Joe had been after the incident years ago? Well, let’s just say that Joe wasn’t really that calm on the inside. He always was wary of the Holiday after what had happened.

The disturbing memories were now attached to this day, which is why Joe also got up and followed his brother to the door. Joe never forgot that night, so he always felt justified when he became uneasy on this day.

Frank unlocked the door twisted the nob, opening the door to find a tall person in a black hoodie and pants, wearing a white face mask with only the eyes showing. Frank’s eyes traveled down to spot something sticking out of the man’s hoodie pocket, Frank couldn’t be sure what it was but his best guess was a kitchen knife from the look of the wooden handle peaking out of the pocket.

Before Frank and Joe could move, the mysterious person took out his knife and tried to lunge at them, but thankfully Joe was fast enough to start pushing the door closed.

Frank dropped the plastic candy bowl to the ground and him and Joe immediately began pressing all of their weight against the door which the masked person was trying to push open.

Biff and Chet rushed into the hallway to find the two brothers battling with the door.

“What the hell?” Chet screamed when he saw the white mask peek around the door.

“Don’t just stand there you idiots!” Joe shouted furiously.

Biff and Chet got the message and all four of them were slamming their bodies against the door, successfully closing it. Still pressing their bodies against the door Frank reached for the door lock and turned it harshly.

There was no sound except for the heavy breathing from the group. They all were wide eyed and frightened, but they felt relief.

“Chet, go call the police!” Frank ordered between heavy pants.

It took Chet a second to process the command, but when he got it he sped off down the hall and into the kitchen where the phone was.

Meanwhile Frank and Joe could only stare wide eyed at each other.

The boys did not even attempt to look outside the windows, but instead made sure everything was locked and that the blinds were down. No one said a word except for Chet who wouldn’t leave the police phone operator alone until the officers came. When the officers arrived in two sturdy squad cars Frank and Joe were hesitant to open the door for them, so instead Biff did. The policemen asked questions and the boys gave their best answers but in the end there was no trace of the man that tried to attack them, he had just vanished.

Sadly there was no way to identify the man and no proof of force entry, so The officers couldn’t do anything. Once the officers left the boys were alone again.

Frank decided to phone Fenton and tell him what happened, but it went straight to voice mail.

“What we should do is just stay all together in one room and try to calm down.” Biff reasoned, seeing clearly that Frank and Joe were shaken quite a bit, Frank was completely quiet, but fright was etched in his features.

Joe was too stubborn to show fear, but Biff knew he was still just as afraid.

“Yeah…” Joe responded quietly, as he watched his older brother try to hide his emotions. “don’t worry Frank, everything’s gonna be ok.” Joe tried to reassure his sibling even though he was terrified himself. Joe’s comforting words relaxed the black-haired Hardy, but he didn’t want anyone to think he was being coddled by his younger brother.

“I-I know that. I don’t need to be comforted!” Frank stuttered in embarrassment, causing Joe to give a small smile. Joe then took his brother’s hand in his and led him back to the couch, the two then settled down and the others joined them. Frank and Joe huddled against each other while Biff and Chet took their original seats.

For the rest of the night the four boys tried to watch something lighthearted and funny to distract themselves.

Time passed and they chuckled softly at some parts of the new movie they picked, but Joe never let go of the baseball bat that he had retrieved from his room and Chet would often nervously look over his shoulder.

Biff was ready to jump from the couch and defend everyone if he had to and Frank was a ball of nerves but tried not to show it.

Finally at 12:55 the parents arrived home. At first when the doorbell rang the boys froze and exchanged frightened glances, then they heard the faint sound of their Father yelling to open up.

The door was practically ripped off its hinges and the parents were pulled in by the four erratic boys. The boys all began talking at once, trying to explain the events that had happened.

Fenton immediately stopped them and tried to calm them down.

They eventually explained everything and the Hardy parents were in shock, but Fenton’s detective mode kicked in and, believe me, he knew how to stay calm in these types of situations.

The first course of action was to get Chet and Biff home safely, so Fenton called their parents and told them what had happened. Finally Biff and Chet were saying goodbye to the brothers with tight hugs, but their smiles were forced and tight. Once Biff and Chet were gone Fenton and Laura sat the boys down in the kitchen around the table and asked them if they were alright.

Of course they lied, not wanting to look like cowards in front of two people they respected and loved.

Fenton knew they were lying, but he couldn’t force them to talk about it so he let them go get ready for bed. once they were in the bedroom, they were silent for the most part while Frank changed into his flannel pajamas, and Joe swapped his jersey and jeans for his boxers and a T-shirt.

Up until it was time to get into bed, it was dead silence.

Frank stared at his bed in horror. He didn’t know what would visit him in his dreams tonight.

Joe also dreaded climbing into his bed, not excited for bad memories to replay in his head all night.

“Joe…” Frank called quietly, but he didn’t have to say anything else, because Joe understood what he was getting at.

Joe walked over to his brother’s side, and the two climbed into Frank’s bed like they did years ago. Once settled under the covers together, Joe spoke softly. “And you said you weren’t sensitive.” Joe teased in a whisper. Frank huffed grumpily, but didn’t have a comeback.

“Just shut up and go to sleep.” Frank then shut his eyes, moving closer to his brother.

Joe grinned, then wrapped his arm over Frank’s side.

Wow! I did it! I posted my first fic….it might not be that great but I had a lot of fun writing it.

Thank you so much for reading!

[kevinlai404]

Elon musk will purchase Duolingo and remove all content except for one single tutorial on how to pronounce his kid’s name

[darylthekidd]

part 2

[gravemations]

The Northwood Documents: Cold Reports chapter 3 PT2

You haven't done one of these in years but this is the best time to do it when you're having weird dreams, even if they are dreams. 

You decided to get up and get your uniform on as you make breakfast, bacon and eggs is always a good option. 

As you clean up your plate and grab your keys and get into your car to get to the local police office, the building from the outside looks old with a red brick exterior and wood banisters but walking inside it was surprisingly modern.  

You walk up to the desk and gain the attention of the person there, they were an officer as well. They were an older man probably late 40s early 50s definitely balding but hiding it under his hat.      

The man looks up from the computer as he spots you walking in. 

”You must be Officer Olivia Hills from the Portland Department, I am Officer Stanton. Glad you could make it safely.” Stanton said with his gruff but friendly voice. 

Olivia stood there for a second before responding to the man still thinking of what happened last night. 

”Oh yes, that would be me.” Hills responded, reaching out a hand to the man behind the desk. 

 The man took her hand and gave her a warm handshake, as he caught his breath. 

”Sorry things have been very ruff lately, that is why you're here.” The man exclaimed to Olivia. 

”You see things here in Northwood have not been going well for years now, numbers of cold cases that go nowhere, violent deaths and a killer we haven't been able to catch. You see you're here cause one of our own was found dead 2 weeks ago and we need some extra help with the investigation and you had a good record with the portland department.” The man suddenly looks at his hands as he holds a photo of the deceased officer.

Olivia stands still as the man explains the woes of this small town as she takes mental notes on this on everything that Stanton said. 

”I'll help out as much as I can around here and I hope to be able to find this killer that has been haunting this town!” Olivia exclaimed with a furious passion. 

The older man laughed with joy at the determination that Olivia had for a town she had only lived in for a day. 

” It's good to have a new Officer onboard to bring back inspiration to this old police station.Any way your office is down the hall to the left 3 doors down”  Stanton had pointed down the right hall. 

Olivia smiled and thanked Stanton for the talk, She entered her new office. She could tell that the old office belonged to the past Officer due to flowers still being on the desk with a photo of the man. Could not have been much older then she was. 

 She decided to move the monument to a side desk in the corner and set up all of her notes and stationary as she turns on the computer and decides to look up if there were any files on this Jayden Maverick. 

After looking through a number of files she had found Jayden records, she spent a good hour looking at it. Sadly the information found was not actually a lot which was disappointing. Most of it had been corrupted over time and a lot of the information on the file was conflicting about them. Almost like the universe itself didn't want her to know about them. 

From family to even their gender and occupation, it was either unreadable or just contradicting itself constantly, but sadly there was one thing about them that wasn't corrupted. A death report, their body was discovered at the nature reserve and they were pronounced dead at the scene back in 1997 on October 31 at 3:00 AM found by a Parkranger after hearing distant screaming and finding their body heavily scarred and their forearms removed. Clear evidence of a murder but the case ran cold and has been sitting here with other similar cases.

 Olivia was saddened with this information, she felt awful even if she never actually met Jayden. But this didn't dissuade her from trying to find more about them; this just made her even more wanted to find out what happened to them and anyone else who had been affected.  

After work and getting out of her uniform Olivia decided to go into town and ask people about if they knew anything about Jayden Maverick, most people she talked to about them couldn't even recall the person ever lived here. Others who did said that they were insane and mentally ill. That they were a delusional trouble maker back in the day. 

This sentiment was carried most strongly by the town news anchor Ather Conners, the man from the news report that Jayden pulled a clip from and put in his video.

This old man went on a 30 minute rant about how that kid was an annoyance and was a danger to the town back in the day. Even though his criminal record was only theirs, they interrupted live reports with his theories and the accidental trespassing.  

Note to say she didn't like Ather Conners, he was a bitter old man that had no tolerance for anything. She could see that Jayden probably did need help but that doesn't mean that you can smear the name of a kid long past his tragic death.  

Most of the sidewalk interviews were not useful to Olivia but an interesting detail from a few people said that Jayden in the last week of their life a few remember them being very paranoid more than usual and become a recluse. This was something she would write down for latter

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

  She decided to go home and collect all the info she had that she gathered, from the information she found that the killers first attacked around early June of 1997 with its first killings happening in September.  The first recorded murder of the killer being Molly and Roman Cornwell, both of them were found dead in the forest with deep scarring and missing limbs. 

A common sign of this Northwood Killer is he doesn't just go for the kill, he will often go for more drawn out deaths. Making non lethal cuts and bruises and then removing limbs letting their victims die from blood loss.      

She has discovered that 40% of its victims do get away from the first attack just for them to either die a week later or be institutionalized due to them going insane and becoming a threat to themselves and others afterwards.(She will try to get into contact with those who have had contact with it that are still alive)  

She had spent a whole week On this note map and worked on the death of the officer. That cause happened to be running cold due to the lack of information they could find. 

Footprints disappearing out of nowhere, misinformation from different sources, data corruption and it just seems that people are just forgetting about his existence entirely.  

She was not doing better. It's been a week since she started looking into this case and her moving here . notes would go missing on her noteboard, reading becomes harder every day and her house just doesn't feel safe; it feels like she is always being watched now. 

She had not had any more word dreams like she had on her first night, that didn't comfort her though. While she was in thought she looked down and remembered the tapes. There were still more of them, she turned to them and picked out the next  tape to put it into the tape player on her CRT as the screen turned on.   

 ”Mite as well as watch it to get this feeling off my mind.”

[juliangelart]

"I've been searching, all of my life,

Finally I've found my north star."

[hinamie]

i'm exactly as normal about him as I thought I'd be

[tightjeansjavi]

Re blogging bc @morning-star-joy is reading part 2 for the first time and she has no idea what she signed up for hehehe

𝐖𝐡𝐨 𝐃𝐨 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐓𝐨 𝐌𝐫.𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫?

Part 2: “Chains and Whips Excite Me”

Joel Miller x f! reader NSFW 🔞

A/N: so originally I was not going to write a part 2 to this little slice of sub! Joel heaven but then the idea struck me today so I was like fuck it! Let’s roll with it. I gotta say, this is beyond filthy. The end has SO much fluff it’s got me giggling and kicking my feet like a little girl. Enjoy! 🫶🏻

~word count: 6.1k~

Summary: Joel really enjoyed the last time you took control so much, that he wants you to do it again. This time, with the proper tools.

Warnings: smut with no plot, implied age gap, established relationship, sub/switch! Joel!, dom/switch reader, consensual power play, use of a safe word, BDSM, bondage, whip play, collar play, edging, teasing, praise kink, handcuffs, Joel doesn’t like being a sub but he does it for you, till the cuffs snap of course, reader calls Joel a good boy, dominatrix vibe till the cuffs snap, pussy eating, unprotected p in v, (wrap it kids) rough consensual sex, light choking, overstimulation, lots of filth, sex toys, very short game of cat and mouse, consent, heavy after care, Joel feels bad for overstimulating you, all the feels, no angst, just a whole lot of debauchery, fluff at the end with you, Joel and Ellie the next morning (+18), NSFW MINORS DNI!

“Joel? Baby? Where the actual fuck are you taking me?” Your eyes were blindfolded with a thick piece of fabric but you were acutely aware of your lover's close proximity to you. His hands were at your waist, guiding you protectively to…well, wherever the hell he was taking you.

“Easy now, sugar. We’re almost there.” His lips were at the shell of your ear and his warm Texas drawl sent shivers down your spine.

“This isn’t where you murder me..right?” You nervously giggled.

“What? Ain’t no way—you’re bein’ silly baby. Why on earth would I do somethin’ like that?” He responded incredulously.

“Okay okay. I’m just checking because you brought me god no’s where. Y’know, I think it was just a logical thing for me to ask.”

Joel chuckled deeply, his warmth breath tickling the sensitive skin below your ear. “Yeah well trust me, baby. You’re gonna love where I brought you.” He reassured you.

“Yeah, okay. We’ll see about that Miller.”

Joel had grasped your hips firmly in his calloused hands, yanking you back against his chest before he took one hand and brought it around your face and untied the makeshift blindfold. “Surprise.” He whispered, a grin spreading across his lips.

You blinked a few times as your eyes readjusted to the lighting and after a few seconds you realized he had brought you to an abandoned mall. Your eyes drifted up to the faded moss covered sign that read Spencer's.

“Oh my god, you’re joking right?” You said in disbelief as you turned and looked over your shoulder at your grinning man. “Joel, you know what this place is right?”

“Do I know what this place is? Honey, I’m old but I ain’t that old. I had a girlfriend back in highschool that dragged me to this place before prom night. She wore one of those candy bras and matching thongs. She wanted to put me in a collar and I said absolutely fuckin’ not.” He chuckled as he watched your reaction.

“Are you purposely bringing up your ex-girlfriend from highschool to make me jealous? You remember what happened the last time I got jealous?” You responded with a light giggle.

“Oh baby, do I remember? Fuck yeah I do. Why the hell do ya think I brought ya out here in the first place?” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively in your direction before he gave you a firm nudge forward.

“You sly fucking dog. You want me to tie you up again?” You gave him a playful glare as he nudged you forward into the store that took you right on back to the early 2000’s.

“Yeah baby, I do. Figured it would be way more fun if you had the proper tools y’know?” He followed closely behind, stepping over moth eaten shirts and moldy backpacks. You both seemingly knew that what you were looking for was in the far back of the store.

Your eyes zoned in on the bondage section immediately and Joel fought the urge to roll his eyes when you picked up a pair of pink fluffy handcuffs and twirled them playfully around your finger. “How do you feel about these, big boy?”

“Jesus Christ. Do they really gotta be pink? I swear to god if Tommy—or god forbid Ellie finds ‘em, I might actually have to kill ya after all sweet cheeks.”

“Baby, you can use them on me too y’know? I don’t think we have to worry about your brother or adopted daughter finding our stuff Joel. Relax, honey.” You shot him a playful wink.

Joel grumbled under his breath, saying something unintelligible as he crossed his arms over his chest with a huff.

You had picked up a black riding crop that had a red heart stitched on the faux leather. You couldn’t help but teasingly drag the crop across his chest with a giggle. “What about this baby? You into me whipping you a little?” You looked up at him, lashes fluttering as you lightly tapped the crop against his bulging bicep.

“How can I say no when you’re lookin’ at me with those goddamn eyes?” He uncrossed his arms from his chest, bringing his thumb and forefinger against your smooth chin before he stole a quick kiss.

“Mhm these eyes that make any man go weak in the knees, but especially my man.” You hummed against his lips, kissing him back sweetly before slipping the crop into his hands along with the pink fluffy handcuffs.

“Look, my only request is that you don’t get any nipple clamps…well, unless you wanna use them on you, and please god nothing that would hurt my balls.”

“Oh baby, you’re so cute. You’re not down for a little nipple play?” You were already reaching for a packaged pair of nipple clamps as you fluttered your lashes at him once more.

“Fuckin’ hell. Fine, you little minx.” He grumbled.

You blew your man a kiss before tossing the small packaged nipple clamps into his hands. “So, I know you said that you wouldn’t let your ex girlfriend put you in a collar..but what if it were me asking you? Would your answer be different?”

Joel’s mouth went dry as you innocently were holding a black spiked collar that had a metal heart connecting in the middle. He watched as you twirled the chain between your fingers, swinging it back and forth. “I’m really startin’ to regret tellin’ ya that story.” Even though the thought of you yanking him around like a leashed dog, was undeniably turning him on just a bit.

“Are you sure you’re regretting telling me that story baby?” You softly cooed as you stepped towards him. “Because just close your eyes, just for a moment. Now, I want you to picture me handcuffing you to a chair. I want you picturing me putting this collar on you while I slide up and down your thick cock. You can feel every inch of my pussy on you baby. Can you picture that?” You purred and Joel just about folded right then and there.

“Fuck me darlin.’” He rasped out, his voice sounding slightly strained as the images of you riding him deliciously settled into his brain. Your fingers wrapped around the chain, tugging on it so he’s looking up at you. Calling him a good boy—

“We’ll get to that part baby I promise. Now I think we have just about everything I need..is there anything you’d like to grab?”

Joel was already making a b-line for the lingerie section, of course. He loved seeing you naked but god, to see you wearing one of these little numbers just for him? It would surely be the end of him.

You watched in pure amusement as your man grabbed various different lingerie sets. He looked like a kid in a fucking candy shop with how excited he was.

“You’re not wasting any time. Huh cowboy?” You giggled.

“Absolutely fuckin’ not darlin.’ It ain’t everyday I get to see my girl dressed up in lingerie. Man’s fantasy fuckin’ come true.” He moved to the sex toy section, humming to himself as he grabbed a purple wand that was marked as waterproof along with a few packs of batteries that (hopefully) would still work. “Don’t think this comes into any comparison of what my tongue is capable of, but I think we can have a little fun with this honey. It’s waterproof too.” He shot you a wink.

You rolled your eyes playfully at his comment of a vibrator being no match for his tongue. “Yeah? Well, keep eating pussy like a man starved, and there definitely will be no comparison.”

“Ain’t got no reason to not eat your pussy that way, sweet cheeks.” He chuckled as he grabbed a couple bottles of lube and suction cup dildo.

“What the hell are we gonna need lube for Joel?”

“You never know darlin.’ We might find ourselves needin’ it one of these days. Better to be prepared, right?”

“You’re not sticking it in my ass Miller. There’s no fucking way.” You slid your backpack off your shoulder as you packed it filled with the things from the sex store.

“Who the hell said anythin’ about me stickin’ it in your ass?” He grinned at your immediate reaction.

“Oh bullshit. You’re totally fucking bluffing baby.”

Joel just gave you a little shrug as he zipped up his bag. Before leaving the store, and while he wasn’t paying attention, you grabbed a t-shirt that said “I Love My Lesbian Daughter” and stuffed it in your bag. Ellie was going to fucking love this.

The ride back to Jackson was filled to the brim with laughter and sexual tension. Dinner in the mess hall was quick and you and Joel were both relieved that Ellie was going over to Dina’s for the evening. Joel still hadn’t caught onto the fact that his kid was dating Dina but Ellie had told you one night but you swore to her that you wouldn’t tell Joel.

Your man was having a quick, head clearing shower while you placed the folded t-shirt on the end of Ellie’s bed with a little note.

You used the spare bathroom to put on one of the many lingerie sets that Joel had picked out for you. This set was pretty, lacy, and would in no doubt drive Joel up a fucking wall once he saw you in it. The top was a laced up bodice, and the cups barely contained your breasts that were nearly spilling over the top of the fabric. You paired it with the black stockings that had delicate lace that sat at the top of your thighs. You attached the two clips to the garter and surely they were not built to withstand much pressure at all. The matching black thong left little to the imagination as the tooth floss thin fabric sat perfectly between your cheeks.

Heels would have been ideal to finish off this look but you stuck with your usual boots knowing that Joel would enjoy seeing you in them.

As soon as you could hear the water shutting off through the pipes, you quickly grabbed your bag and headed downstairs. You flicked all the lights off, just like the last time and you waited patiently for your man as you made yourself comfortable on one of the kitchen chairs. You gingerly crossed one leg over the other as you lightly twirled the pink fuzzy handcuffs around your finger lazily.

You heard his heavy footsteps padding down the hall and the staircase as he called out your name. When your man finally came into view, you were pleased to see that he was wearing just a robe. You were pleased till you realized it was the fucking robe that one of the mess hall ladies gifted to Joel at last years town Christmas party. She had an enormous crush on your man and after a few too many glasses of spiked eggnog, she had no problem flirting up a storm with him.

“Hey baby.” He rasped as his eyes adjusted to the low lighting. He sucked in a harsh breath when he found you sitting, and wearing his personal favorite choice of lingerie that he had grabbed for you.

“You wore that robe on purpose, didn’t you?” You raised an eyebrow as you leaned forward slightly so he could get a good look at your cleavage nearly spilling out to his greedy eyes.

“What? This old thing? Yeah, Susan gifted it to me, remember?” He grinned as he strode around the table towards the empty chair that wasn’t occupied with you.

“As if I needed to remember the way she flirted your fucking ear off. Sit down, Mr. Miller. Don’t make me ask you twice.”

Joel swallowed the thick lump growing in his throat hard as he slowly sank down onto the chair opposite of yours. “My god, you look so fuckin’ gorgeous right now baby. Jesus Christ. I’m so happy you picked out that one it’s my—”

You cut him off sternly. “Did I fucking say you could talk baby? Don’t think so.” You slowly stood up from your chair, walking the short distance till you were standing between his open thighs. You leaned down, grasping his chin between your fingers. “Are you gonna be a good boy for me baby?”

Joel was itching to touch you already. To grab a handful of your ass and yank you forward so he could bury his face between your two luscious, pillowy breasts and lick every inch of skin that he could reach— “yes baby, of course I’ll be a good boy for you. Before we get into this, I think we should uh—come up with a safe word yeah? Cause if you’re gonna be whippin’ me and shit..” he trailed off as he lifted his warm, dark brown eyes up to gaze upon your pretty face.

You just about folded from his look alone as you ever so slightly tighten your fingers grip around his chin. “A safe word? Yeah, of course baby. We can always use a safe word.”

Joel tapped his fingers along the outside of his thighs, already feeling his cock twitch under the robe. It really took nothing for you to turn him on and he fucking loved it. “Alright darlin’ how about—hmm..Beetlejuice?”

You let out a soft giggle at his suggestion for a safe word and the sound alone was sending blood southwards as he took his lip between his teeth, keeping his eyes locked on yours. “Like..Michael Keaton’s Beetlejuice?”

“Yeah, there a problem with that sugar?”

“No no. That’s perfect actually. I had a huge crush on Beetlejuice at one point.” You giggled, dragging your thumb across Joel’s lower lip as he nibbled on your fingertip gently.

“Oh of course you did.” He fought the urge to roll his eyes at your response.

You were grabbing a fistful of his dark, salt and pepper speckled hair as you yanked his head back against the chair. “Just remember to not say his name three times baby or else we’ll be in trouble. I catch you rolling your eyes at me again and you’re going to regret it Joel.”

Joel felt a growl crawling up the deep cavern of his throat as he gritted his teeth tightly, feeling his fists clench at his sides. “Yes ma’am” he rasped out.

“Good boy.” You gave him a quick kiss before you were stepping away from him and walked behind his chair, leaning down so your lips were at the shell of his ear. “Arms behind your back baby. Wrists together for me.”

Joel reluctantly brought his arms around the back of the chair, holding his wrists together. “Guess I’m gonna have to get real creative with snappin’ these off, Huh baby?” He chuckled.

“If you manage to snap these off somehow, you can take me any way you want to baby.” You whispered against his ear as you snapped the pink fuzzy cuffs around his wrists and gave them a good tug to be sure they were secure.

“Oh, I am absolutely fuckin’ snappin’ these off at some point honey. Better have your fun while you still can.” He spoke with amusement laced in his tone..which was short lived when he felt your hands untying the knot that held the robe together and exposing his warm, damp skin to your wandering eyes. From the angle you were at, you could see the head of his cock resting against the base of his stomach, leaking in precum.

“Is this turning you already baby?” You cooed softly, letting your lips kiss down the expanse of his exposed neck, greedily sucking on his skin, licking a hot stripe up to his earlobe before you lightly nibbled on it with your teeth.

Joel let out a low rumbled groan as he tilted his head to the side, granting you easier access. He was so used to being the one to kiss on you but god, your lips felt delicious against his warm skin. “Mhm. My cock is aching for you darlin.’”

You reached behind you, grasping the leather hilt of the riding crop and slowly dragged it across his jaw, down his neck, across his chest as it lightly grazed his nipples. The sensation to him was new, and unfamiliar, but he liked it. So much so that he let a low hiss slip past his lips.

His cock instinctively twitched against his stomach and his muscles clenched as the cool leather descended past his navel. He could feel your grin creeping against his skin as you dragged the leather across his leaking tip. You couldn’t help but giggle as his hips bucked up from the feather light touch.

“You think this is fuckin’ funny darlin?’ Teasin’ me like this with that fuckin’ crop? You little minx I swear to god when I break out of these—” his low growl transfixed into a whimper when you brought the crop down swiftly against his inner thigh, stinging his skin from the sensation. You wasted no time to grab his jaw with your free hand and yank his head up so he was forced to look at you. “You shut the fuck up and be a good boy, baby. You got that?” Your eyes narrowed into his.

Joel let out a shuddered breath when he saw how dark your pupils had grown and he let out a low hiss when you brought the crop down on his inner thigh once more before he swiftly nodded. “Yes, baby. I’m sorry. I promise I’ll be a good boy for you.” He pleaded.

Joel being a sub for you was by far the hottest fucking thing he had ever done. You were obsessed with having him at your mercy. To do with him whatever, and however you pleased. You rewarded him with a chaste kiss, slotting your lips together as you took full dominance. As soon as you felt him trying to take control of the kiss, you slapped his thigh with the crop a little harder this time and the leather just barely grazed his balls. He retreated shortly after.

Your tongues tangled together, teeth clashing as you lightly dragged the whip up and down his thick veiny cock. The sensation wasn’t nearly enough for Joel. It was driving him up a wall already and you could sense his frustration brewing deep in his gut. “Baby..” he mumbled against your lips, letting out what sounded like a groan, mixed in with a whimper. “Please don’t tease me anymore honey. I can’t take it much longer. I’m hurtin’ real fuckin’ bad. I need your touch. Your mouth, your pussy. Fuckin’ anythin’, please darlin.’” Joel Miller was begging you to touch him.

You grinned against his lips, parting from the kiss slightly so you could watch his face, see his brows furrowed and his eyes darken. You just barely kissed him now, tilting your head back slightly when he tried to properly kiss you once more. “Yeah baby? You want my touch that fucking bad? Huh pretty boy?” You cooed, letting your free hand slowly dip down his chest, navel, dragging your fingers along his taut skin that clenched inwards from the contact.

Joel let out a deep growl as he tugged harshly on the handcuffs secured around his wrists. The desire to have some sense of control was driving him mad as he narrowed his eyes at you. “I’m fuckin’ begging you to touch me darlin.’ Please do somethin’ before I lose my goddamn mind over here.”

You slowly wrapped your hand around the base of his cock, giving him a firm tug before you dragged your thumb across his ruddy head, collecting the leaking precum from the tip. You gave his cock a few more firm tugs before you leaned down over his shoulder, and spit over his cock. Your saliva trailed past your soft lips and down his happy trail and cock. You used your saliva as lubricant as you continued to slowly pump your fist around him.

Joel’s eyes rolled to the back of his skull when he watched you filthily spit over his cock. You were something fucking else entirely and his brain was feeling like a goddamn scrambled egg. “Shit. Yeah baby, that’s it. Fuck. Can I get your sweet mouth too? You always suck my cock so well—”

“Who the fuck is running this show huh? You, or me, Miller?” You squeezed his cock slightly, scraping your nails across the veiny skin.

“Jesus fuck—you are baby. It’s your show. Not mine.” He hissed.

“That’s right. It’s my show. Don’t even fucking think about cumming either. You’re not allowed to till I fucking say.”

“Yes, baby.” He nearly whimpered when you dragged your thumb across his sensitive head as he jutted his hips into your hand desperately.

When he could no longer feel your touch around his aching cock, he tugged on the restraints once more as he watched you ever so casually release your grip around him and walk away from his chair.

“Where the fuck are you goin’ now? I swear to god darlin’ if you even think about leavin’ me down here like this I’m gonna make you regret it.” He tugged on the restraints again, trying to get a feel for if these things were cheaply made or not.

You didn’t respond as you bent down. Ass on full display as you reached into your backpack, pulling out the collar and attached chain. You swung the chain around in a tight circle, using your free hand to pull the thin fabric covering your pussy to the side, revealing your slick cunt to him as you faced him.

Joel’s jaw went slack at the sight of you. Your pussy in his direct view, looking soft and wet for him. His mouth watered at the sight and he swore he had drool dribbling down his chin. “Fuck me. You’re so fuckin’ pretty baby. Is your pretty little pussy wet for me? I bet she is. I bet she’s fuckin’ drippin’ right now. Can I have a taste? Please?”

You slowly dragged your panties down over your thighs and ankles, casually tossing the fabric at him with a giggle before you walked over to him. Your boots were heavy along the old hardwood and you slowly stopped between his thighs, unclasping the collar before you fastened it around his neck. You gave the chain attached to the collar a firm tug, yanking his head towards you. “You wanna have a taste of my pussy baby? That’s what you really want? Huh, pretty boy?”

Joel was not expecting his body to be so willingly responsive to the leather fastened around his neck. Nor did he expect the groan to be elicited past his lips when you tugged on the chain. “Please, pretty girl. Let me have a taste of your pussy. Let me bury my head between your thighs and drink you dry.”

You propped your one boot clad foot right between his thighs, feeling his body jolt slightly from how close your boot had gotten to his dick. You grabbed ahold of his shoulder with your free hand as you held yourself as close to his face as you physically could. You yanked on the chain once more, pulling his face to your soaked cunt.

Joel’s eyes flicked up to yours as he nuzzled his face between your thighs, nipping at the soft flesh before he buried his face deep into your cunt. He could already feel his back aching from the angle he was forced into but did he care? Not one fucking bit. His nose was firmly pressed into your pubic bone as he lapped frantically at you. His tongue swirled around your clit while the sharp stubble on his jaw was scraping at your inner thighs. You let out a low moan as you tightened your grip around the chain. “Fuck. That’s it baby. You’re being such a good boy for me right now. Mouth full of my fucking pussy. Eating me like a man starved.”

Your free hand that was gripped around his shoulder found purchase in his hair, tugging at the roots tightly. Your nails lightly scraped his scalp as he wrapped his lips around your clit, sucking harshly on the little bud. The sounds he made were nothing short of obscene and filthy. Joel let out a hum against your pussy, driving his face deeper into your folds as you began to rock your hips into his face.

“You taste so fuckin’ sweet baby. Sweetest taste a man could ever dream of consumin.’ He mumbled, mouth full of your pussy. “She’s so needy for me baby. You gonna cum for me? I know you’re close. C’mon my pretty girl. Cum all over my fuckin’ face.” He growled. Joel desperately wished that his hands weren’t restrained right now just so he could grab your ass and drive your pussy deeper into his eager mouth. Alas, he was still biding his time.

You were falling apart above him. Stuttering over your words as filth spilt from your parted lips. If anyone were to walk in on your debauchery, you both surely would be getting a one way ticket straight to hell. Your hips desperately bucked into his face as you chased your impending orgasm. Your stomach grew taught and tight as you cried out his name. “Yes! Fuck. Don’t stop, Joel! Don’t you dare fucking stop!”

Joel could feel himself becoming a little light headed as he wasn’t taking breaths in between. He could feel stars pricking behind his closed eyes but he didn’t stop till you were spasming above him and cumming along his tongue. He drank up every last drop before your fingers released their tight grip on his hair and he was finally able to take in a lungful of air. His entire face, down to his beard and chin were coated in your slick. His breaths were heavy as your sex stained gaze fell upon his face between your thighs.

“Holy fucking shit Joel. I thought I was about to fucking pass out.” You let your free hand drop down to his jaw, gathering up a bit of slick along his chin before you brought your thumb up to his parted lips. You watched as he wrapped his lips around your thumb nail, nibbling on it with hooded eyes.

“You and me both, baby. I could barely fuckin’ breathe. Started seein’ stars behind my eyes and everythin.’ Your sweet little pussy is just that fuckin’ good.” He spoke breathlessly, revealing a boyish grin that would make a rare appearance every now and then.

“You were such a good boy for me baby. I’m going to reward you, okay?” You slipped your thumb from between his lips and yanked on the chain, bringing his lips up to your mouth where you could taste yourself on them as he deepened the kiss, tangling his tongue around yours before you were firmly pushing him back down into the chair.

Joel felt his throat go dry as you slowly lowered yourself into his lap, planting your feet on either side of his hips and he yanked at the restraints once more. He could tell that the cheap metal was slowly becoming pliable, bendable and it would only be a matter of time before he would be snapping those stupid pink fuzzy cuffs off. “I wish I could touch you so fuckin’ bad right now baby. Just wanna wrap my arms around ya and pound into that sweet little fuckin’ pussy.”

You both let out a low hiss when you had grabbed ahold of the base of his cock, dragging his tip across your slick folds as you rolled your hips against his. “Patience, pretty boy. I know how badly you want to fuck me. I’m aching for your cock Joel. Just want to feel you stretch me open..” you moaned wantonly, yanking on the chain so his face was close to yours. “C’mon and be a good boy. Tell me how bad you want my pussy, Joel. Tell me.”

A low growl was elicited from deep within his chest as you rocked your hips into his at a deliciously, agonizing slow pace. “I want your pussy so fuckin’ bad darlin.’ Only ever have wanted your pussy. She’s all fuckin’ mine.”

You slipped the head of his cock past your slick folds as you finally sank down onto him to the hilt. Your warm walls immediately clenched around him as he filled you up to the fucking brim. “All yours, Joel. All fucking yours Mr. Miller.” You moaned as you slowly rose up and down on his cock, rolling your hips as you rode him.

“That’s right baby. You’re all fuckin’ mine and I’m all fuckin’ yours.” He groaned deeply, eyes flirting down to watch the way you would hug his cock each time you rose and fell above him. He loved watching the way he would disappear inside of you and the way your thighs were already quivering. “Taking my cock so well darlin.’ You always grip me so fuckin’ tight. So pretty, so perfect for me.” He bucked his hips up into yours causing your lips to part as you let out an unexpecting gasp from the motion.

“Oh, fuck. Yes baby. You always fill me up so fuckin’ well Joel. I love you, I love your cock. Such a good boy for me.”

Joel thrusted his hips up into yours once more as he tugged on the restraints hard. From the force of his tugging, and harsh thrust of his hips, the cuffs suddenly snapped with a loud pop as they clattered to the ground.

You were already scrambling off of his cock when you heard the cuffs snap and you didn’t even get far from the chair before he was grabbing your wrist and yanking you firmly against his chest. The collar around his neck was unclasped and thrown onto the kitchen table as his hand found purchase around your throat. “Now, now. Where the hell do you think you’re goin’ sweetheart? Not so fuckin’ fast baby. Told you I was gonna break out of those stupid fuckin’ things.” He tsked under his breath as he used his free hand to wrap around your middle and pull you back down into his lap at his mercy.

“How the fuck did you even break out of those huh? They were on fucking tight!” You grumbled.

“Doesn’t fuckin’ matter how I did it. Don’t ask anymore fuckin’ questions. Got it? Be a good fuckin’ girl for me and get back on my cock. You think I was done with ya or somethin?’” He growled against the side of your head, taking in a deep inhale of your natural scent mixed in with vanilla shampoo.

You took your lip between your teeth as you grabbed ahold of his cock once more, sinking down onto him. Your thighs were spread across his lap, feet on either side of his thighs as he held you in place. He filled you up even more if that was even possible. This angle had you feeling like you were being stretched to your limits as he bucked his hips up into you, feeling his balls slapping against your skin.

His arm stayed firmly wrapped around your middle, holding you flush against his chest as he fucked into you at a harsh pace, exerting all his energy into making you scream ontop of him. His hand that was wrapped around your throat, dropped to the kitchen table as he grasped the leather whip and wasted no time to continuously slap it against your swollen, puffy clit.

“You gonna fuckin’ cum all over my cock like a good fuckin’ girl baby?” He grunted against your hair, tapping the whip faster against your clit as he forcefully pulled your hips down on him as he continued to harshly thrust into you.

Your moans were turning into choked sobs as the sensation was becoming too much, too overwhelming and the safe word was on the tip of your tongue but you struggled to get the words out. “Joel—J-J-Joel baby I—can’t”

Joel’s ears had zoned in attentively on your sobs as he tried to decipher if they were sobs of pleasure, or if it had become too much and when you let out a strangled cry, his heart snapped and he immediately stopped, gently slipping you off his cock and tossed the whip aside, cradling you protectively against his chest. “Shh..shh..baby. Hey, breathe baby. You’re okay. You’re okay. I got you honey. Deep breaths for me, okay? I got you. You’re safe.” He whispered.

Your entire body was trembling around him as you continued to sob, clutching yourself around him like a koala.

“My sweet girl..m’so sorry. Why didn’t you use the safe word?” He spoke softly as he kissed the top of your head before gently grasping your face in his warm palms, wiping away your hot tears.

“I—I tried to say it but it was..it was too much.” You whimpered.

“Shh. I know, baby. I got you. M’sorry I didn’t stop sooner. You’re okay now. Safe here in my arms. I got you.” He continued to hold you till your body had seemingly recovered and had gone slack in his grip. He wrapped your legs around his waist gently before he lifted you up and carried you upstairs.

The rest of the evening you spent in the tub with your back resting against Joel’s chest as he took care of you. His movements were gentle, attentive and soft. He hummed against your ear as he gently washed between your thighs. He wrapped you in a fluffy towel, applied lotion to your legs before he dressed you in one of his T-shirts and boxers to sleep in. He carried you to bed, letting you be the little spoon as he held you close to him.

Sometime in the night, Ellie had come home with Dina to grab her stash of weed. The two girls were mortified to say the least when they found the sex toys scattered along the floor in the entryway. Thank god for the booze in their system as they headed upstairs, hands interlocked and girlish giggles slipping past their lips.

Dina was the first to find the t-shirt and she held it up for Ellie to see as she grabbed her jar of joints. “Hey, El? Which one of your parents got you this shirt, you think?”

Ellie turned her focus on the white tee that her girlfriend was holding up and she couldn’t contain her giggles. “I Love My Lesbian Daughter. Yeah, my mom 100% is the one who got that for me. She’s so fuckin’ rad. My dad would totally never. He doesn’t even have a clue about us babe.”

“I literally want one of these shirts. We’ll have to ask her where she got it.” Dina said with a grin, tossing the shirt to her girlfriend who caught it with ease.

“I have a sneaking suspicion that they were at fucking sex shop or something.”

“Chains and whips must really get your parents going, huh?” Dina teased.

“Oh my god, gross! I do not need those images in my head Di!” Ellie giggled, stuffing the shirt in her bag.

The next morning at breakfast, Joel was complaining about his back as usual and your thighs were absolutely killing you. Joel hadn’t even noticed the shirt his kid was wearing when she came through the front door with Dina in tow.

“Hey kiddo, how was your night?” Joel asked his daughter as she kissed his cheek and gave him a side hug.

“Pretty good. Although, Dina and I stopped by at like midnight or so and we found yours and moms uh..”

“Oh god.” You and Joel both said out loud at the same time.

“It’s cool you guys! We just thought it was super fucking funny!” Ellie said with a grin as she stuffed her face with fresh pancakes.

Joel scrubbed a hand over his face with a deep sigh before taking a long sip of his coffee. His eyes narrowed in on his kid’s shirt and he nearly choked on his sip of coffee. “Where the hell did you get that?”

“Oh, this? Mom got it for me!” Ellie proudly stated.

Joel looked between his daughter, and you before he smiled over the rim of his mug. “Yeah? Well, I think your mom is gonna have to get your old man one as well.”

Tag List: @chaotic-mystery @peterhollandkait @userpedros @pedgeitopascal @last-girl @korynnekorynne @yazsos @777-wonders @lovers-liability @loquaciousferret @kirsteng42 @dinsdjrn @myrealmofchaos

[kamaluhkhan]

THE GRUDGE (or: the 7 things luke castellan hated about you)

read part two GET HIM BACK! (or: the 7 reasons you want revenge on luke castellan)

pairing: luke castellan x child of nemesis!reader (gender not specified)

word count: 8.5k

summary: luke hated your guts. he really did. he just hoped that no one could tell how, even after all this, you're still everything to him.

warnings/disclaimer: luke's POV. spoilers for the lightning thief and season 1 of pjo. some heated make-out sessions but no actual smut - MDNI / 18+. mentions of blood + death + alcohol. luke is 19 during tlt but i wrote this with him + reader being 21 by the end of this (this is important for the next part lol). anyways, luke + reader share clothes and lots of intense emotions they maybe possibly don't process in the best way. lots of ANGST - it's a greek tragedy fr!

author's note: welcome to my new hyperfixation! this fic is LONG but i hope she's worth it ♡

♪: the grudge by olivia rodrigo

(i. you have a sharp tongue)

fourteen year old luke was overwhelmed when he first stepped into the hermes cabin. it was loud and overcrowded and no one really seemed to care that they had a new cabinmate. the head counselor showed luke to an empty bed at the back, told him to get settled in, and left without another word. luke dropped his backpack before collapsing on the mattress. it was so thin that he could feel the springs dig into his back.

"you'll get used to it."

luke sat up to see you climbing through the window. 

you had a band-aid stuck on your chin, chipped nail polish the color of blackberries, and leather combat boots that looked way too heavy to be wearing in the heat of summer. 

“the shitty mattress?”

“i meant the whole chaos of cabin 11, and the way things work around here in general. if you can get used to the shitty mattress, all power to you.” 

your tone was friendly enough, playful even. you smiled at him so comfortably it made luke nauseous. 

“good to know.” he tried to smile back at you, but his heart wasn’t in it. “i’m luke, by the way.”

“yeah, i know. i’m —”

“y/n!”

you seemed entirely unfazed as the blond who called your name stormed over to you. you rolled your eyes, something only luke could notice, before turning to her.

“someone stole my candy.”

“i’m very sorry to hear that, maddy. gotta be careful around here.” your voice dripped like poisoned honey, deceptively innocent and sweet.

maddy was not having it. she huffed at you. “it was you, wasn’t it?”

“that depends. did you cheat at poker last night? again?” 

some of the chatter throughout the cabin paused, heads turning to listen in. 

“what? n-no!” 

“then you have your answer, maddy.” you exaggerated a sigh, as though you had already won the fight and were annoyed that she came back for more. “now, if you’ll excuse me, i have a new camper to show around.”

chiron had already given them a tour, but luke didn’t protest when you grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the window with you. your hand was warm in his as you dragged him along to the corner of the cabin where a poorly made ladder waited for you. 

“come on.” you started climbing, and only stopped to look down when you realized luke wasn’t following you. “best view of camp. trust me.”

a shiver passed through luke. trust didn’t come easy to him. he also didn’t particularly want to return to a stuffy cabin where all he would do was count reasons he did not want to be there.

 so, luke followed you. he sat down next to you on the roof and looked out at the sun shining on his new home, but he couldn't help but be slightly bitter. the gods had gotten all of you into this life of endless danger and battles and monsters, and this was all they had to offer in return: a summer camp. 

it just didn't seem fair. 

there was something else he noticed then. what was it that chiron had said? camp half-blood was supposed to be a safe haven for all demigods. 

“i don’t get it. there are only twelve cabins, but aren’t there, like, a million other gods?”

you straightened your posture then, and turned to luke with a newfound interest. 

“camp half-blood only has cabins representing the twelve olympians. apparently, they’re the only ones important enough to have children worth recognizing, and they can’t even do that half the time,” you explained, impertinence laced throughout your words. it seemed like something you could never quite get off your chest. 

every  demigod knew that the gods didn’t appreciate sarcasm. they  didn’t particularly like being called out on their bullshit, either.

you didn’t seem to care; you even rolled your eyes up at the sky, as if challenging zeus himself. 

“anyways, that’s why the hermes cabin is so crowded. it takes in campers who are unclaimed or whose parent doesn’t have a cabin at camp. like me.”

“so, who’s your godly parent?”

you fiddled with the leather cord on your neck. it held a few clay beads like the other campers, but there was one silver charm he noticed only you wore — scales, by the looks of it. you clutched onto it.

luke realized that, despite your own advice, maybe you resented having to get used to the way things worked around here, and having to hide your resentment. maybe that was worse than having to sleep on an uncomfortable bed for the rest of your life.

"nemesis. goddess of revenge."

"that's....hardcore."

you scoffed and moved on to twisting the silver ring on your index finger. "a lot of people take it that way, and i think it scares them a bit.”

“so that’s why you’re extra nice to new campers, huh?” 

“no, i was just in a good mood today.” you smirked.

“guess i was just lucky, then.”

luke couldn’t help but smile at your laugh — sharp, biting. you nudged your boot against his sneaker, which shifted you closer to him, shoulders practically touching. 

“what people don’t understand is that it's more about balance, you know? you do good things, and good things happen to you. at least, they should. you do bad things and….” you pulled out an outrageously big bag of candy, dropped it between you and luke, and winked at him. “you face the consequences.” 

“that makes sense.” luke leaned over to grab a handful of gummy bears. “like karma.”

“yeah. exactly.” 

you bit the head off a red bear, both of you chewing in silence before you added:

“by the way, i’m sorry about your friend.” you swallowed and caught luke’s gaze. 

chiron warned him that word would travel fast around camp about what happened to thalia, and luke had prepared himself for anything — anything but your reaction. there was no pity in your eyes; instead, there was a hint of rage, as though thalia had been your friend, too. 

“she deserved more.” 

luke’s eyes caught the glint of a knife strapped to your belt. he took another handful of the candy you stole, and he thought about the fire and fearlessness behind your words, and, despite everything, it felt right to be with you then and there. 

“yeah,” he finally whispered back. “she did.”

we all do. 

neither of you said those words, but the suggestion was there, and it felt like a promise. 

(ii. you hold on to every stupid, little detail)

“slow down, tiger.” 

your voice echoed throughout the arena, and if luke had been fighting a real opponent, it might have gotten him killed. instead, he just stopped mid-swing, sparing another straw dummy from losing its arm. 

“left hand,” you noted as you walked past him towards a bench. “you, my friend, are in need of a break.”

luke loosened the grip on his sword. the only time luke fought with his non-dominant hand was when he had overworked the other. he must have switched an hour ago, but judging by how heavy his arm felt, it could have very well been two.  

his curls were stuck to his forehead with sweat, his shirt soaked through. he could feel a dull pain behind his eyes, and luke was worried that if he stopped to catch his breath, he would pass out. or, even worse, have to face the reality of the shitty news he’d gotten early that day. 

“come sit with me,” you urged. “you’re exhausted, tiger.” 

luke bristled at your nickname for him. 

sure, luke loved that there was something only you called him, a secret kept between you in plain sight, but it was also a reminder that it was harder to hide behind the hero act when you were around.

everyone else at camp figured the nickname was a playful attempt at calling him strong and charismatic. the truth was that luke once told you that his favorite cereal as a kid was frosted flakes and that he would dream of playing sports as well as tony the tiger. for better or for worse, like most things, you wouldn’t let it go. 

case in point: if it was anybody other than you trying to get him to take a break, luke could have just brushed them off with a charming smile and continued swordfighting until his arms fell off, but in the two years since meeting you, luke had never met anyone as stubborn and convincing. like him, it seemed you were willing to fight and shed blood to get your way. luke was never really in the mood to make you bleed, even when feeling like he could burn the entire world down, so he usually gave in to your demands.  

as soon as he sat down next to you, you handed him an orange flavored energy drink — his favorite. anything other than water was hard to come by at camp without the enchanted goblets in the dining pavilion, or the right connection in the hermes cabin. he ran out of his stash the other day, but you must have noticed and gotten one of the stoll brothers to smuggle more in. 

“thanks,” luke said, ignoring the jolt of electricity that passed through him when your fingers brushed together briefly. 

 the two of you looked out at the sword arena, and all the straw dummies that luke had destroyed. you wait for him to take three big gulps of his drink before speaking again. 

“i guess chiron and your dad decided you weren’t ready for a quest.”

luke exhaled sharply. “how did you —”

“the only time you’d skip out on capture the flag is if something really shitty happened.” you looked down at luke’s clenched fists, and that seemed to be all the confirmation you needed. “you promised annabeth you'd be there, and it's not like you to let her down."

fuck. he had completely forgotten that tonight was annabeth's first time as team captain. this entire week, she had been prepping a winning strategy. it wasn’t like annabeth needed him to win, but luke was her big brother, and he should have been there. you were right — he had let her down. 

the realization made luke’s day go from bad to worse. 

"i told her you were helping a new camper with an emergency. she didn't believe it, but she adjusted her strategy and we still won.”

“well, thank the gods everything worked in the end,” luke grumbled. 

“don’t thank the gods,” you quipped. “thank annabeth chase for her brilliant mind, and me for covering for your sorry ass.”

when luke didn’t indulge in your usual playful banter, you moved closer to him and brushed some curls away from his eyes. your skin warmed his forehead, and the small gesture made him feel better than he had all day.

“look, i’m not going to give you some bullshit inspirational speech about how the gods don’t get to define what a hero is, or how you don’t need a quest to prove that you’re worthy of being one. we’ve each been through that before, and i have a feeling this won’t be our last time, either.”

“then why are you here?” the question came out harsher than luke had intended it to.

“because she’s trying her best to hide it, but annabeth is really hurt that you didn’t show up for the game. i figured the least you could do is suck it up, come to the campfire, and make her those signature luke castellan s’mores. you could probably use one, too, since you haven’t eaten anything since breakfast.” 

you were right, again. luke was exhausted, he was furious, but most of all, he was starving.  

later that night, luke sat next to annabeth and vowed to make her as many s’mores as she wanted. you’d gone to sit with the hephaestus kids, trying to convince beckendorf and nyssa to join your cabin’s post-campfire party at the beach, even though they had to work in the forges early the next morning. 

when chiron made his weekly speech, congratulating the winners of capture the flag and thanking the gods for keeping everyone safe, you and luke caught each other’s gaze from across the fire. you rolled your eyes and luke bit back a smile as you turned back to beckendorf. he noticed your knees were practically touching. did you sit that close to everyone? 

luke was looking at you for so long that the marshmallow he was roasting fell into the fire, despite annabeth’s warnings. she handed him another one. 

"you should tell her how you feel," annabeth said. "stop being a coward." 

whether it was the smell of burnt sugar, the heat of the fire, or annabeth’s comment, luke started to feel dizzy. he did his best to shake it off, asking annabeth for a play-by-play of her strategy earlier that night, but he couldn’t quite get rid of the thought of you. 

(iii. you don't care if your clothes are stained with blood)

“i just….i can’t fucking believe you, luke.”

“i don’t get why you’re so upset — you’ve never cared about quests before.”

luke was hoping to break the news to you after capture the flag. unfortunately for him, word travels fast around camp. 

annabeth had the two of you scouting the east side for the flag, while she and some other athena kids took the west. you hadn’t found anything so far, which meant that you’d spent the better part of an hour bickering over luke’s choice of companions for his quest. a choice that included charles beckendorf and chris rodriguez, and purposefully did not include you, much to your fury.  

before you could continue arguing, luke heard the sound of footsteps approaching. he looked over to you, and you already had your shield and sword at the ready. 

a few red defenders emerged from the trees. one charged at luke, but you stepped in so he could deal with the other two. one of his opponents went down fairly easily, but the other put up much more of a fight. metal clashed behind him as you kept fighting as well. you might not have been as skilled a swordfighter as luke, but he knew that you could hold your own, at least until he was finished with the person in front of him. 

luke parried his opponent’s strike, causing them to take a step closer. he was preparing to disarm them, just as he heard you yelp and stumble to the ground. it only took a millisecond of his attention, but it gave his opponent the opportunity to elbow him in the face. luke felt a crack upon impact, and pain radiated from his nose; he powered through. 

he had to finish this fight, and he had to do it fast. you needed him. 

his ears were ringing as he finally knocked over his opponent, kicking away their sword and keeping his foot on their chest. luke turned around to see you having turned the tides, the blade of your sword dangerously close to your opponent’s neck.

you locked eyes with luke, and you both understood — it was time to go. the two of you ran through the forest, as far away as you could before having to stop and catch your breath.

luke removed his helmet to get some air, and dropped his weapons. you did the same. you looked at him, brows furrowed.

“your nose.”

luke licked his lips, tasting blood. the triumph of winning that last fight overshadowed the ache of his potentially broken nose. in fact, he liked the image of a ruthless warrior emerging from the glory and gore of battle, that even though he did not bleed ichor like a god, he still had power. 

you, on the other hand, didn’t look impressed. instead, you stepped forward and offered the sleeve of your shirt to wipe away the blood. 

“you don’t have to —”

“i know you think you’re a badass walking around all broken and bloody, but you shouldn’t deny your admirers your pretty face,” you teased. 

it was no secret that luke had numerous admirers around camp, a fact you loved to tease him about. he was sure that you relished in how flustered that made him. all you had to call him was pretty boy, and luke could be reduced to a blushing mess. 

it was pathetic how much power you had over him.

“besides, i wouldn’t have gotten out of that last fight if you hadn’t taught me that disarming technique earlier. i owe you. it’s what we do. we take care of each other, right?”

he couldn’t argue with that.

a few moments of silence passed as you cleaned his face. something shifted as you worked, the flirtatious grin fading away. when you pulled away, your sleeve was stained a dark crimson. 

“just tell me honestly,” you finally murmured. “why don't you want me to join your quest?” 

luke was genuinely taken aback by the softness of your voice, now devoid of its usual fire. you wouldn’t meet luke’s eyes, but being that close to you, he noticed they were slightly glazed over.

he had expected you to be angry at his decision. he expected you to yell and argue and try to change his mind. luke hadn’t expected you to be so hurt. so broken. 

he hadn’t planned on it, but luke decided to tell you the truth then.

“look, karma, if you come with me, my heart wouldn’t fully be in the quest. i’d be so caught up in….well, you.”

a pause.

“is that a bad thing?”

“not usually, no.” 

you smirked a little at that, and luke’s heart skipped a beat. it also made his decision even clearer. 

“but i need to be focused for this. i need….” he let out a deep sigh. “i need to prove myself. this is my first real chance, and i can’t fuck it up.”

you met his gaze and smiled brightly at him, your signature spark of confidence returning.  

“you won’t.”

you reached a hand up to play with his necklace. luke hadn’t noticed how close you’d gotten until your fingers started tracing over those four clay beads. it made his entire body burst into flames.

“i’ve been wanting to do something for a while. and, aphrodite save me, it might be really stupid, but —”

luke took a lucky guess as to where you were going, and crashed his lips against yours. aphrodite knows that he'd been wanting to do that for a while, too. 

he often got drunk on the adrenaline of battle, the glory of winning, but nothing was quite like the rush of kissing you for the first time. 

it was messy and urgent, both of you aware that, at any moment, you could be interrupted. your noses were bumping together, teeth clacking against each other. the metallic tang of blood lingered on luke’s tongue, but neither of you seemed to care. you even bit his lip slightly, as if you wanted more. armor sat heavy and cold between your chests, preventing you from getting closer. luke had never loathed the protective gear more. 

he made up for it by lodging one hand underneath your jaw, and snaking the other beneath the celestial bronze, beneath the cotton of your shirt, admiring how your pulse quickened under his thumb when he grazed the soft skin of your stomach. you tangled your hands into his hair, nails scraping against his scalp. he groaned and felt you smirk against his lips. 

luke had kissed a few people before, sure, but never like this: like a knife to the gut, and if you pulled away, luke would surely bleed out and die. 

it wouldn’t be a hero’s death, in the traditional sense, but at least he’d die happy. 

how many heroes could claim that?

when luke ran out of air, feeling like his lungs were burning, he had to pull away. 

you glanced down at luke’s kiss-bitten lips, then back to his eyes. luke flushed under the intensity of your gaze. 

“just promise me something, tiger,” you whispered, voice hoarse. 

“anything.”

“come back alive.”

luke leaned forward and placed another kiss on your lips, this one much gentler than before.

“i promise.”

(iv. you love like a scar that won't fade)

the nightmares were getting worse. 

luke woke up in a cold sweat, taking gulps of air in an attempt to steady his breathing.

“luke.” 

your whisper did little to quell the pit of dread growing in his stomach, but it did enough to bring him back down to reality. 

he was at camp half-blood (fuck the gods of olympus), in the hermes cabin (fuck you, dad), in a bed next to yours (fuck, if he could tell you what — who — was going through his head, he would).

“i’m…i’m fine,” he murmured back, voice catching slightly on the lie. 

like clockwork, you shifted from your bed to his, slipping under the covers. it didn’t matter that it was a hot summer night, and the minute your legs touched his, he could feel himself starting to overheat. 

your thumb brushed over the thick edge of his scar, up his cheekbone to the corner of his eye. it had been a year, living with this reminder. a reminder that he had failed, just as much as his father and the olympians had failed him. 

luke tried to pretend that he didn’t come back from his quest as a shell of who he once was. after all, it was meant to be his shining moment as a demigod, meant to gain him all the glory and father’s praise he once wished for. 

what a fucking joke.

every morning, luke would crawl into a different skin. he welcomed new campers and taught sword-fighting. he laughed with chris and his other siblings and strategized with annabeth for capture the flag. he would be the easy-going, charming, skillful senior counselor who respected the gods and honored them in everything he did. 

again: a fucking joke.

nights were different, though, with you so close to him, you who could always see right through him.

every night, luke was a fourteen-year old boy again, with so much rage and resentment he didn't know what to do with it. 

of course, you were always you - a bleeding heart underneath layers of armor. you didn't care about fate, or the gods, or the titans. you cared about justice, you cared about what was right and fair. 

most of all, you cared about luke.

“you were screaming,” you told him, voice barely cutting through the soft snores and sleeptalkings of your other cabinmates. 

“sorry,” he managed. looking at you in the dull moonlight, luke noticed the deep shadows under your eyes. 

“it’s fine. you just….you scared me, tiger.” 

your hand still rested on his cheek, and for a second, luke hoped you would kiss him, but you didn’t. instead, you told him to try and get some sleep, and sank further into his bed before closing your eyes. 

for the hundredth night in a row, luke hoped you couldn’t hear his heart hammering in his chest as you fell asleep next to him.

since coming back from his quest, luke didn’t have it in him to suggest being anything other than friends, and you didn’t push it. there had been a few....moments between you, sure, but nothing more.

luke thought you might have changed your mind, because who would want to be with a bitter, worthless, wannabe hero? then again, that voice haunting his dreams…. luke could change that. 

but, at what cost?

(v. you protect people as ruthlessly as a starving dog)

luke could hear you talking to percy jackson outside. though he couldn’t quite determine what was being said, as much as he tried.

you entered the bathroom and instantly caught luke’s eyes in the mirror. you were wearing your faded pyjama shorts with cartoon crows, and a flannel shirt that luke had a sneaking suspicion might have been his. you smiled at him before setting up at the counter, one sink between you. 

“what was that about?” luke asked after spitting out a mouthful of minty toothpaste.

“oh, nothing.” you were searching through your toiletry bag for something, and seemed to come up short. “hey, do you have any extra dental floss?”

luke threw some over to you. as you effortlessly caught it, he noticed your knuckles, bruised and bloodied.

“what happened?” 

you finished flossing and briefly examined your hands before pulling out your toothbrush. 

“it’s not a big deal,” you assured. “some ares kids were picking on percy, and then they started pushing him around, like, really pushing him around, so….” 

“....you decided to send them to the infirmary.”

you squeezed some toothpaste on your brush before continuing. “i don’t need you to lecture me about how i shouldn’t be fighting with other campers because i’ve been here longer and i should be a good role model. you know what a good role model does? not let kids beat up other kids and think the worst punishment they’ll get is no dessert for a week.”

luke watched carefully as you jammed the toothbrush in your mouth and brushed with such force, he was worried your teeth might dislodge. he knew that you would shed blood for someone you loved, and that you didn’t particularly care if you had to break rules in doing so, because you believed that what was written was not necessarily what was right. 

in fact, luke loved that about you.

no, it wasn’t the fighting that luke cared about — it was who you were fighting for. 

percy was a good kid, he really was. luke just didn’t want you getting attached. 

“i wasn’t going to lecture you. i’m guessing chiron already did?” 

you nodded and spat out what looked like a combination of toothpaste and blood. you rinsed your mouth until the water lost its pinkish hue. once you were done, luke continued his train of thought.

“i just didn’t realize you cared so much about him.”

“about percy?” 

luke could tell that he didn’t have your full attention. you were packing your stuff back up, accidentally tossing luke’s dental floss into your bag, but he had more pressing matters to deal with.

“yeah. the kid’s only been at camp for three days, and you’re already acting like his guard dog.”

you finally turned to luke and glared at him. 

“maybe. but percy’s sweet and he doesn’t seem like the type to put up with bullshit. he’s been through a lot, and annabeth seems to like him, too. as far as i’m concerned, percy’s one of us, and i’m not going to let anyone push him around.”

luke raised an eyebrow at you. “he’s sweet?”

“yeah. like, just now, he gave me some blue raspberry jelly beans as a thank you. said his mom used to work at a candy store. he also wanted me to apologize to you for him. he feels bad about beating you in sword-fighting earlier.” 

you scoffed, like you resented luke for having to apologize to him on percy’s behalf. you definitely did not appreciate that guard dog comment. luke clenched his jaw, seething over what you had just said. 

satisfied with his reaction, you gave luke that nauseating smile of yours, tilted your head towards the exit. a truce, because you never liked to fight with luke for too long, and a order, because you knew luke would always follow. 

the two of you began walking back to your cabin in the warm mid-june air. 

“i wouldn’t say he beat me,” luke huffed. “it was beginner’s luck.”

“sure, tiger. it was beginner’s luck that disarmed the best swordsman we’ve had in the last 300 years.”

you nudged luke’s shoulder with yours, but he recoiled from your touch. 

“are you trying to make me feel worse?” luke tried his best to avoid snapping at you, keeping his tone measured.

“i’m just saying that maybe the kid has natural talent and that doesn’t make you any less talented. there’s no need to get jealous.”

luke resisted the urge to growl at your suggestion. 

to be clear, he was not jealous. it’s just that luke had spent years of blood, sweat, and tears getting to where he was then, and percy jackson had just gotten to camp. 

and, to be even more clear, luke was not jealous of how you were already defending percy with your whole body and your whole heart, the way you did for him. 

by then, you reached the front of the hermes cabin. luke could already hear the commotion of what he would need to deal with as soon as he walked in. the burden of being head counselor, one he approached with an elastic smile that could snap at any moment. 

you tugged on luke’s sleeve before he could open the door. 

“hey. are we okay?”

luke looked down at your fingers grasping the fabric of a sweatshirt he was just realizing was yours. your nails were painted a dark red, now chipped after a week of wear. you had begged luke to paint his nails then, and once again, he gave in. he even started to like the purple you had chosen just for him, so deep it was almost black. the same color you were wearing the first time you and luke met.

he smiled at the memory — a real smile, no plastic — and then smiled back up at you.

“we’re fine, karma.” and he moved to enter the cabin. luke could hear the threat of an argument bubbling up, what sounded like a petty one over a prank gone wrong.

“wait.” you tugged at his (your) sweatshirt once more. “there’s something i wanted to talk to you about, about tomorrow night—”

“annabeth called a meeting during free time.”

“yeah, i know, it’s just —”

“she’ll run through strategy for capture the flag then.”

“one of the aphrodite senior campers asked me to the campfire,” you blurted it out, and luke decided to ignore the sound of a fight breaking out from behind the wooden door.

what in the name of hades were you talking about?

“they asked you out? like…like a….” luke didn’t even want to speak the word, scared it would make it real.

“a date,” you said casually, as if that one word didn’t rip luke’s heart in a million pieces. “i said yes.” an admission that took all those pieces and set them on fire. 

sure, in the seven years since you and luke met, you’d each talked about boys, about girls, about dating and kissing them and going further. but there was something about this one that felt different. something about the way you told him.

“but, listen, i wanted to let you know it’s not —”

“good for you,” was all luke said through gritted teeth before someone started calling his name again, louder and more urgently, and he had to duck inside.  

(vi. you taste like burning cherries and righteous anger)

your team had won capture the flag, of course. the biggest news of the evening, though: percy jackson was the son of the sea god. 

he was a forbidden child, the hero of the great prophecy. 

everything was falling into place. 

all luke should be thinking about is kronos’ plan, and his role in it, and how a world without the gods of olympus was that much more in reach.  

unfortunately, for the time being, he was so consumed by you. 

you, from across the campfire, sporting cutoff denim shorts and fresh wounds from the game earlier. you, who had wrapped your knuckles in gauze, concealing their bruising, fixed the chips in your nail polish and stacked rings on your fingers. (for the record: luke had gifted you the one on your left thumb.) you, with dark lips that whispered too closely and laughed too loudly with a child of aphrodite— jordan li.

you hadn’t so much as looked at luke since congratulating each other on another win. when chiron announced his weekly gratitude to the gods at the start of that night’s campfire, you didn’t punctuate your resentment with your usual eye-roll or biting remark. you were too busy giggling at something jordan said.

luke wanted to be the one to whisper jokes in your ear. he wanted to be the one you left lipstick stains on later, along his jaw and down his neck. he wanted to be the one who kissed the blade mark on your shoulder and the bruises on your knuckles. 

and yet, hours passed and it seemed that the thought of luke had never so much as crossed your mind. he found himself at an after hours party with a few senior campers on the beach. a lethal recipe: a poorly crafted bonfire, some contraband drinks and you in jordan li’s lap, playing with their hair and pretending luke castellan did not exist. 

meanwhile, luke had katie gardner’s full attention. she was talking to him about the strawberry season, potentially leaning a bit too close into luke’s personal space, definitely flirting with him. 

luke could have done a lot worse than the head counselor of the demeter cabin, who always smelled like fresh lavender, whose eyes were the bright green of spring grass and whose lips tasted like golden honey. 

the problem was that luke only wanted you, and his eyes kept sliding over to where you were kissing jordan’s cheek, and he accidentally called the girl he was kissing by your name, which did not make her happy. 

katie threw her drink in his face, told him to wake the fuck up, and walked away.

a chorus of gasps and chuckles erupted as luke stood there, diet coke and vodka seeping into his shirt. the commotion seemed to capture your attention, because you suddenly appeared next to luke, an empty bottle of cherry soda in your hand.

“rough night, tiger?” your voice, that nickname, made luke sick, his face twisting into a frown. you don’t seem to notice or care. instead, you switched your bottle with luke’s and took a sip.

“looks like you were having a pretty good time,” luke practically sneered. “where’s your date?” 

 “they went to bed.” you swallowed a mouthful of beer, grimacing at its bitterness. “gods, this is terrible. you and i should go on the drink run next time — we have better taste.”

“so, are you and jordan like a thing now?”

you gave luke a smile he didn’t quite understand, but made his stomach churn in ways only you could. “would that be a problem?”

“of course not.” he answered way too quickly for that to be true. 

“let’s get out of here,” you suggested. “i think katie is about this close to strangling you with a tree branch.”

luke glanced over your shoulder to where green eyes glared back at him. 

nowhere could luke find it in him to care. he wasn’t even sorry. he just shrugged, took the bottle back from you, took his first sip all night. luke almost gagged (because of course you were right, and the stoll brothers had better fake ids than they had taste) but he suppressed it. 

“no. i’m good.”

biggest lie he ever said. like there wasn’t anger caught in his throat and jealousy swelling between his ribs.

“go find jordan,” he taunted. “kiss them, show them a good time! isn’t that the reason why you got all pretty?”

you narrowed your eyes at him carefully. your nostrils were slightly flared, and luke took a bit of pride in being able to rile you up.

“look, we haven’t really talked lately, and i think we should.”

“go find jordan,” he mocked once more. “almost all the aphrodite kids are here, and i’m sure you can be quiet enough to sneak into their cabin and if you want a quick fu—”

“luke.” you clipped his name, obviously getting to the limit of your patience with him. “if you want to stay here all night and be an asshole, you’re welcome to. you should know, though, that your happy-go-lucky hero mask is starting to crack and i don’t know if you could deal with the fallout from it shattering completely.”

you leaned in close and whispered that last part, very aware of the chattering that stopped and the eyes that watched the pair of you anxiously. luke was usually good at hiding that part of himself who wanted to burn the world down. 

in ways you didn’t realize, you were right: he couldn’t risk revealing it, not now.

not yet. 

“do whatever you want, castellan,” you spat out his last name, the combination of letters foreign in your mouth.“i’m leaving.”

luke should be proud of himself. he waited a whole two seconds before following you like a stray dog. 

luke didn’t know if he’d ever felt you that enraged by him, and it horrified him. it also made him hungry for more. 

“i’m not sure that jordan would want the two of us alone together at night,” he shouted after you, words echoing into the starless sky.

“gods, enough about jordan!” luke practically ran into you with how fast you turned around to confront him. “i was helping them with that stupid aphrodite tradition!”

“you….” luke faltered, all the snark leaving his body. “what?”

luke remembered silena beauregard once explaining the rite of passage to him: to prove themselves, a child of aphrodite had to make someone fall in love with them, and then break their heart.

“why…why would you agree to do that?”

you had reached the dining area by then, and you sat on one of the steps leading to the pavilion. luke stayed a few feet away, looking at you cautiously. 

“jordan and i are already friends, and they figured a fake relationship would be the way to avoid anyone from actually getting hurt in the process.”

“you seemed so…so into it, though,” luke stammered, the memory of you in jordan’s lap, laughter bubbling from your lips, still fresh.

“it’s called acting, dumbass.” the camp didn’t rely on electricity, but there were enough torches around that luke could see you roll your eyes. “anyways, i was trying to give you a heads-up last night, but you wouldn’t listen.” you took a deep breath. “and, honestly, i didn’t push it because….i figured i should test a hypothesis.”

a hypothesis? you’d known annabeth for too long.

“what hypothesis?”

you hesitated. 

“it doesn’t matter. fuck, this was stupid,” you muttered, and without another word, stormed through the dining pavilion, a short cut to the hermes cabin. your footsteps fell heavy against the marble, and luke’s not far behind. 

“what hypothesis?” he asked again.

nothing but rushed footsteps.

“what hypothesis?” luke finally yelled.

third time was the charm, because you stopped in your tracks and faced luke once again. a fire burned in the bronze brazier, where campers were forced to offer up portions of your food to the gods at every meal. its roaring seemed to captivate you, and the flames danced across your face, illuminating all your curves and edges.

“i’m angry at the gods,” you stated. 

this caught luke off guard. from the day the two of you met, luke knew you shared that feeling. you’d gotten quieter with your rage as you’d gotten older. luke supposed he got better at hiding it himself, as well. 

“i’m angry at the gods for letting bad shit happen even if they can stop it, and for building this world in the fucked up way they did. i’m angry at your dad for the way he’s treated you, but — you, luke castellan.” you finally met luke’s eyes with a gaze so sharp, luke almost felt himself bleed. “i’m also angry at you, and not just for your bullshit tonight.” 

your admission felt like a punch to the stomach, and luke was left with no air to breathe.

did you know?

“you haven’t been the same since your quest,” you continued, words slow and deliberate, the way you spoke when you were worried your voice would shake. “and i’ve come to terms with that in the past few years, but you….you’ve never tried to ice me out before. you’ve been acting distant since december, and it’s been driving me insane. do you realize how much i miss my best …..” you swallowed the word friend. “how much i miss you?”

luke hesitated, because what could he say? i know i’ve been distant, but i’ve been busy trying to start a war between the gods. sorry babe! 

would you hate him, if you knew? 

you had to have known that, despite the distance, luke missed you. for tartarus sake, in the last two days, he’d driven himself mad at you calling a fourteen year old boy sweet, and he was about to combust at the image of you dating someone else, with little care as to the collateral damage. 

"you can't just avoid me, makeout with katie fucking gardner, and then….” you trailed off, hiding your face in your hands. whether it was to hide embarrassment or tears, luke wasn’t sure.

a smirk spread across luke’s face at the revelation that he hadn’t been the only one jealous at the bonfire that night. it lit luke up with the confidence he needed to not completely fall to his knees in front of you, beg for your forgiveness for everything he’s done.

“why do you care if i make out with katie fucking gardner?” 

as he waited for a response, luke walked towards you until your back hit one of the marble columns. 

“why do you care if i’m with jordan fucking li?” you clenched your jaw and looked right through luke. a clear indication that you wanted him to break down first; it wouldn’t be you who yielded this fight.

“because i want to be the one you’re with.” at that point, luke was so close to you that he swore he could hear your heartbeat. he reached out and played with the hem of your shorts. “why do you care if i make out with katie gardner?”

“because.” you drew in a sharp breath when luke’s fingers brushed underneath the denim, across the warm skin of your thigh. you closed your eyes. “don’t make me say it, tiger.” 

the desperation in your voice made luke want to do unholy things with you, to you. luke knew you didn’t think of him as a saint, and you never expected him to be one. the reality was that you weren’t much better, either. what was essentially an altar to the gods burned bright next to you, but it seemed neither of you had ever cared less about it than in that moment. 

luke would watch olympus fall. he would dethrone the gods and watch their glass castle shatter and find glory in a new world. in the grand scheme of things, he was willing to lose this battle.

in fact, he would have rather betrayed the titan lord himself than waste another second not kissing your lips. 

so, he kissed you, and you kissed him back with such force, such hunger, it was ungodly.

no, you certainly weren’t a saint — but you were divine, in the most brutal, intoxicating way. in the way you shuddered when luke lodged a leg between your thighs; in the way you threaded your fingers through the belt loops of his jeans to bring him closer; in the way the metal of your rings burned through the skin of his hip, right to the bone, which made him shudder, and you smile triumphantly against his jaw.

the more he tasted your smirk flavored by cherry soda and the ashes of nearby flames, the more he felt your feral teeth against his neck and your wicked nails digging into his shoulders, the more you tugged on his curls, the more luke thought: maybe. 

maybe you would give into your seething resentment, live up to those eye-rolls and snarky comments that got you in trouble with chiron, on the edge of hot water with the gods. maybe you would join the titan army. maybe, just maybe, this time, you would follow luke.

and yet — maybe wasn’t enough if it meant he could lose this. luke wouldn’t risk it, not until he kissed every battle scar and bruise on your body, and you did the same to his. 

“wait.”

it was the last thing luke wanted to do, but he complied. he took the opportunity to appreciate the chaos he created: your shirt in disarray, your lipstick a mess, your chest heaving and desperate to catch a breath. 

“i promised jordan that we’d keep up our charade for a week, two at the most. do you think we could keep this…” you tightened your fist around the fabric of his shirt. “a secret until then?”

luke responded by pressing his lips to yours once more, because there were definitely worse secrets to keep.

(vii. you wouldn’t hesitate to make him bleed)

luke had just left percy jackson to die.

he should be leaving camp, now, but he needed to see you one last time. 

the universe works in mysterious ways, because you were out on a run through the forest, and you crossed paths before he even had time to wonder where you were.

“hey, tiger.” you smiled as if this was a regular afternoon. the two of you would teach your afternoon activities, sneak away during dinner so luke could kiss you in that spot that made you gasp. “wanna join me? i was just wrapping up, but i could be convinced to go longer.”

for a second, he was tempted to. very tempted. 

“i don’t have much time.”

you seemed to notice luke’s sullen mood and you dropped your playful demeanor. 

luke explained: the messages from kronos in his dreams, him stealing the lightning bolt and helm of darkness to start a war between the gods and framing percy. the plan to destroy olympus that luke had pledged his life to.

percy was surprised at what luke had done, and luke could imagine that the rest of camp would be, too. luke was the golden boy of camp half-blood, everyone’s big brother. 

you, on the other hand, didn’t express any sense of shock. 

“luke.” you said his name like you weren’t quite sure it was poison. “i’m going to give you five seconds to tell me that you’re joking.”

five seconds of silence passed. you took a few steps back from luke.

“i….i should have told you sooner.”

“yeah,” you scoffed. “you should have. but, you didn’t. did it feel good, having the titan king whispering sweet nothings in your ear? all the lies about how this war is the only way to get the glory you so desperately want? it’s fucking delusional.” 

“it’s not delusional—”

“yes, it is!” you glared at him. “you’re on the wrong side of a war you made the mistake of starting.”

luke straightened his posture, thinking about how hypocritical you were being. 

“isn’t this what you’re all about? revenge, karma. your mom will probably join us, too. don’t you want to see the gods finally get what they deserve?”

“not like this. i can’t believe how desperate you are, to believe that kronos is going to make everything right. it’s pathetic,” you spat. “i’m not saying the gods don’t deserve to be taken down a notch. their fucking obsession with power and glory….it’s sick and twisted, but i don’t think your titan king is any better. i don’t think you are any better.” 

“it’s time that the gods fall. this is the only way, even if it isn’t perfect,” luke countered. his voice was firmer now as he absorbed your anger. your mother was the goddess of revenge, but you clearly didn't understand the sacrifices, pain, and blood that was required to make the world a better place.  

luke just needed to convince you.

“we’ve talked about this for years,” he continued. “nothing is balanced! there’s no justice here, for anyone.  we can build a better world where we don’t have to burn our scraps and throw ourselves at monsters to get attention. we can fight together like we always have. y/n, i love—”

“don’t,” you snapped. “don’t you fucking dare. you should have died on your quest.” your voice laced with venom. one hand gripping the knife you always kept on your belt. “that dragon should have fucking sliced through you and saved us all the trouble.”

something pricked in the back of his throat, down to his stomach.

“you don’t mean that.”

“i do,” you promised. “at least you would have died with all of us thinking you’re a hero instead of the traitor you really are.”

you grabbed your knife, took a fighting stance. 

“i’m not going to fight you,” was all luke could say. he noticed your hand tremble, and you tightened the grip on your knife to prevent emotion from slipping through your invisible armor. 

in that moment, you have could slice through luke, and it would hurt less than everything you just said, less than the murderous look you were giving him, like he was just another monster you wouldn’t think twice about sending to tartarus.

luke didn’t even have a chance to unsheathe his sword before you charged at him, but he quickly had you pinned to the ground, the tip of your own knife pointed at you. he hesitated. the blade pressed harder against your cheek than he intended, enough to break the skin and let a few droplets of dark crimson escape. 

“please come with me,” he pleaded. you didn’t answer, but you did seem surprised by the softness of his voice. 

a few moments passed, the celestial bronze still between you. luke waited for you to see his way, to yield to his proposal.

you didn’t. instead, you took advantage of the situation. you wrapped your leg around his and flipped your position. in the process, you regained possession of your knife. without the hesitation that held luke back, you sliced through his cheek, deep. luke bit his lip to suppress a groan, tasting blood. your gaze set his whole body on fire as he waited for your next move. that was when you glanced down at his camp necklace, and the new clay bead added to commemorate this summer.

a turquoise trident.

“percy told me he was on his way to see you,” you realized. “what did you do?”

luke didn’t answer. he knew then that a choice ran through your head. 

and it stung, just a little, watching you sprint away through the trees in a last ditch effort to save percy’s life. 

there was a small, pathetic part of luke that wanted you to choose him, even if it meant you would have plunged the knife into his chest.

[mizgnomer]

Parallel photos: The Tennants and the Shebergs