#and one of these has to do with dagger walking around casually in nothing but his boots

[wraithsoutlaws]

:v

[guppybibi]

Simon is a stealthy man, obviously—it's required for his job. Though the fact isn't quite true when it comes to proposals. You could clearly tell what he had in store for you the moment he coincidentally didn't have any work to do when the weather was just right and when he suggested that it was the perfect time of year to propose relax and go on vacation to anywhere you'd like.

Of course, you play along obliviously and decide to go to a tropical place that you've been eyeing for a while now. Simon wasn't complaining about your choice either, a chance to watch the sunset together and see you in a cute swimsuit? Sign him up!

So he books you two a tropical getaway, and insists that you should use his card to go shopping for a nice little dress, yeah? What's your ring size too, love? For future reference..nothing else.

~

The trip so far has been nothing but perfect, the plane surprisingly had enough leg space so Simon was comfortable the whole time. No turbulence either, it was like God was on Simon's side this time.

When you two arrive at your destination, the fresh breeze gladly greets you and the sun's heat is making beads of sweat form on your forehead already. It seemed like the heat had the same effect on Simon as well, although he was sweating more profusely than you for some reason..He'd never tell but he was insanely nervous right now, it felt like his guts were being turned inside out over and over again.

Everything does go smoothly, you two arrive at the hotel he reserved, quickly changing into your swimsuits since you couldn't wait to go out there and take a stroll around the beach. Maybe collect some seashells as a souvenir, build sandcastles or get a tan, do whatever you want, princess. Simon's going to be right beside you the whole time, glaring sharp daggers at anyone who even dares to look at you in the wrong way. Was it too much and completely unnecessary? Maybe, but you could never be too safe in these times. Creeps were always everywhere, casually walking around in broad daylight, hidden in plain sight.

Every single thing you wanted to do or get, was done and bought. You had to say, you were pretty surprised when Simon wasn't making any sarcastic comments about how he wasn't a money dispenser. Not even batting an eye when you got something from a clear tourist scam, weird. But hey, you're really in no place to complain here. Plus, money comes back, but the memories you and Simon will make here won't.

~

Hand in hand, step by step, you and Simon walk by the shore, your eyes full of adoration as you tried tracing the glow of the sun's light on Simon's face. You couldn't tell what was more breathtaking, the landscape or the man in front of you? The sun was bound to set soon, though it never really rests, you couldn't even imagine being the sun, working nonstop with no breaks is a big no no.

Quite ironic since in Simon's eyes, you were technically his sun. You were the center of his world, everything was peaceful when he was around you. Unlike when he's in the military, it always feels like he's out of orbit.

He has to do it, his heart can't contain it anymore. He has to propose, he's going to propose. Right here, right now. It was the perfect moment, the sunset peering, maybe a few folks watching but Simon couldn't give a damn about them. This was about you.

"Love," he calls out, stuffing his hand into his pocket to get the ring box. You snap back to reality, tilting your head in acknowledgement. You were taken aback by the sight of him kneeling on one knee, holding out a box with a shiny ring inside that you were barely able to hear the words, "Will you marry me?".

Without hesitation, you scream out "Yes!" at the top of your lungs, leaving Simon chuckling, still not getting up. "Wait up, luv. I prepared a message for you, mind if I tell you it first?" You were still jumping around the place, looking like you were about to bounce off to outer space. Once you manage to collect your excitement, you nodded, preparing yourself to hear Simon's message to you.

It was all about how you were the light of his life, all of that. It was short and sweet, not unnecessarily long but truly from the heart.

It's safe to say that the both of you went home from that trip with a big grin on your faces.

[kinzhae]

"Too Late."

After a heated argument, Gojo Satoru pushes you away, becoming cold and indifferent. During a mission, you are severely injured by a curse, and Gojo arrives too late to save you. As you die in his arms, Gojo is forced to confront the painful consequences of his actions and the love he never expressed.

Warnings: Death, Emotional Abuse, Angst, Grief, Violence, Angst with no happy ending, mentions of death, ignoring.

This has been sitting on my draft but didn't know if I should post it or not.

Gojo x Reader.

You’d reached your breaking point with Satoru’s arrogance, his refusal to take anything seriously. After a mission where his antics nearly got a teammate killed, you confronted him.

"Why do you always act like nothing matters?" you shouted, your voice trembling with anger. "Do you think it’s funny when people almost die?!"

Gojo’s smirk was firmly in place, his hands stuffed casually in his pockets. "Relax, no one actually died. I was there, wasn’t I?"

"That’s not the point!" you snapped, tears burning in your eyes. "You can’t keep acting like this is all a game, Satoru. People care about you—I care about you—but you make it impossible to reach you!"

His smirk faltered for a split second before he recovered, his voice dropping to an icy tone. "If caring about me is so hard, maybe you should stop."

His words struck you like a physical blow, and you staggered back, staring at him in disbelief. "Is that what you really want?" you whispered, your voice cracking.

Gojo turned his head away, the faintest flicker of regret crossing his face before his usual arrogance took over. "I don’t have time for this," he said simply, walking away and leaving you behind.

From that moment, he froze you out completely. In the halls, he ignored your presence as if you didn’t exist. On missions, he stood back, arms crossed, watching you struggle.

"Having fun?" he’d call out mockingly as you fought against a curse, his tone laced with cruel amusement. "You said I don’t take things seriously. Show me how it’s done, then."

Each word was a dagger to your heart, but you refused to let him see you falter. You pushed yourself harder, determined to prove you didn’t need him.

But your body couldn’t keep up with your determination. On a solo mission, you found yourself overwhelmed by a curse far stronger than you’d anticipated. You fought with everything you had, but it wasn’t enough.

Gojo arrived just in time to see you collapse, your blood pooling around you as the curse disappeared into nothingness. For a moment, he stood frozen, his heart pounding in a way he hadn’t felt in years.

"Satoru," you whispered weakly, your vision blurring as he knelt beside you. "Guess you were right… You didn’t need me after all."

"Stop talking," he said, his voice uncharacteristically sharp as he pressed his hands to your wounds, his mind racing. He could heal himself, but not others. He had never learned. "Don’t… don’t do this. You’ll be fine. You’ll be fine."

Your hand weakly reached for his, and he grasped it tightly, his grip trembling. "You’ll be fine," you murmured, your voice fading. "You always are…"

For the first time in his life, Gojo Satoru felt powerless. As the light left your eyes, his entire world crumbled.

He sat there for hours, holding your lifeless body, his blindfold damp with tears. "You were wrong," he whispered hoarsely, his voice barely audible. "I needed you. I needed you more than anything."

But no one was there to hear his confession, and the silence that followed was louder than any scream.

[lnfours]

ik i should probably send this thru the lando brain rot but i am not exposing my filthy side lol so please excuse that. BUT lando with a figure skater who competes in singles but has to pairs for a gala show. he casually picks her from the practice and sees the pairs program which is stemy AF. i am thinking of smth like very hands on each other and her partner throwing her in air and catching her; his hands all over her waist while the song could be smth like into you by ariana grande.

a jealous lando fucking her going like "bet he can't do this" or smth like "oh he will never be able to see you like this" or "come on baby i've seen you split your body basically half on ice you can stretch more than that"

lol i am sorry i yapped alot feel free to ignore if you're not into it sm.

THIS IS LOWKEY GIVING ICEBREAKER AND IM SO HERE FOR IT FUCK!!!!!! smut (18+ pls!)

cleaning out my inbox

he was waiting for you when your routine ended, his arms crossed as he watched you and your partner. he knew you had done a more sensual routine this time around, but the sight of some dude having his hands all over you made him clench his jaw.

he knew it was part of your sport, that it was something silly to be mad at, but he couldn't help it. he didn't like sharing, especially when it came to you.

not wanting to make him wait any longer, you quickly grabbed your things and made your way over to him, stepping off the ice and smiling at him.

"hey, sorry, i forgot what time it was," you sighed, sitting down on the benches, "have you been waiting long?"

he shook his head, "'s alright."

you raised an eyebrow at him as you unlaced your skates, "you okay?"

he was looking in the direction towards your partner, "hmm? yeah, baby, 'm good."

"you sure?" you asked, stuffing the skates into your bag and slinging it over your shoulder, "you look pissed off."

the conversation was interrupted when your partner called your name, stepping off the ice and smiling at the both of you, "good job today, you did great!"

"thanks," you smiled, "so did you! i'll see you friday, right?"

"yeah, i'll see you friday," he smiled, "have a good night guys."

you laced your arm with your boyfriends, pulling him away from sending the poor boy daggers, "good night!"

lando followed your lead, walking with you back to the parking lot and to the car. you threw your stuff in the backseat before climbing into the passenger seat, noticing the way his jaw was still tight.

he started the car as you spoke softly, your hand resting on his arm, "are you sure you're okay?"

he nodded before looking over at you, "yeah, why wouldn't i be?"

"like i said, you look pissed," you said, "did you wanna talk about it?"

"'m fine, babe, really."

his tone made you think otherwise, and then it clicked. he was jealous.

you smirked over at him, laughing softly, "oh my god, you're jealous!"

"no, 'm not."

"you are, look at you!" you chuckled, "c'mon, babe, there's nothing to be jealous about."

"i just don't like the fact that he had his hands all over you," he said, "that's all."

you grabbed his hand from the center console, placing it on your cheek, "doesn't matter, the only man who's hands i want all over me is sitting right here."

you pressed a kiss to his palm, smiling softly. he moved his thumb, the pad of his finger tracing over your bottom lip. he leaned the side of his head against the headrest when you pressed a soft kiss to his finger, mumbling a soft, "fuck, if you keep this up, i'm going to have to fuck you in this parking lot."

you smirked over at him, "is that a challenge?"

he looked out to the parking lot, the only ones left were you and one other car he had assumed was the owner's.

fuck it.

he reached across the console, unbuckling the seatbelt you had done up before helping you climb over to the drivers side. you smiled down at him as he reclined the seat back, giving the both of you more room as you lowered yourself to his level, hand resting on the seat as you hovered over him.

"quit it," he said, helping you pull down your leggings and underwear, tugging down his own sweatpants but leaving the barrier of his boxers between the two of you.

"i just can't believe you're jealous of matt," you snickered, "of all people, matt? really?"

"shut up," he rolled his eyes, helping you out of your hoodie, "unless you want me to make you shut up."

"i don't know, this is fun, don't you think?"

he sighed, pulling you down for a kiss with one hand on the back of your neck as the other slipped between the two of you to find your clit. he smirked against your lips at the sound of your muffled whimper, his index finger slowly teasing you.

he pulled away, his lips on your neck. he spoke between kisses to your skin, "yeah, not so talkative now, hmm?"

"gotta do better than that."

without warning, he accepted your challenge and slid his finger into you with ease. you moaned softly, his queue to add another as you closed your eyes in pure bliss.

"what's the matter, baby?" he teased, "cat got your tongue?"

you couldn't help the moan that escaped your lips, "just fuck me already."

"i'll think about it."

"lando!"

"this is fun, don't you think?" he threw your teasing words back at you, making you groan. your mouth fell open at the feeling of his thumb toying with your clit as his fingers worked inside of you, moving at a delicious pace because he knew your body and what you liked like the back of his hand. and he knew what buttons to push to make you beg for it, and boy was he going to push his limits today.

"tell me what you want, baby," he said, his teeth tugging on your earlobe, "c'mon, pretty girl."

"want you," you moaned, "please."

"see, that's all you had to say."

he slowly pulled his fingers out from inside you as you sat up, letting him pull down his boxers. his dick sprung free, slapping him in the stomach before he helped you lower yourself down onto it. you both moaned in unison at the feeling of him stretching you out, his hands gripping your hips as you slowly started rocking back and forth.

"fuck," he moaned, grabbing at your ass, your sign that he wanted to take control. he started thrusting up into you, making you moan loudly as he somehow went even deeper than before, "yeah, baby, who's pussy is this?"

"yours," you moaned softly, one of his hands coming up to pull down your sports bra, your tits bouncing freely as his fingers tweaked with your nipple.

"sorry baby, i didn't hear you. who's did you say?"

"yours, lando," you said louder, "fuck."

he moved his hand, fingers coming back to rub tight circles against your clit, "yeah, bet he wouldn't fuck you like this, would he?"

you shook your head, but that wasn't good enough for him.

"words."

"no," you said, "he wouldn't."

"yeah cause you're mine," he said, his thrusts somehow going deeper and faster in the confined space the two of you were in, "all mine. got it?"

you nodded, "always."

he smiled, bringing you back down for another kiss, a kiss full of love and passion despite how hard he currently was slamming into you. you moaned into his mouth, pulling away to speak, "just like this, fuck, i'm so close,"

he nodded, "me too," he spoke softly, "come for me, baby."

it didn't take much longer until you were squeezing around him, thighs shaking overtop of him as you moaned. he followed pursuit, his hips stilling as he came undone, the both of you sitting there for a minute to catch your breath.

you laid on his chest, his hands playing with your hair softly. you smiled at him and he smiled back down at you, "i love you, you know."

"i know," you smiled, "i love you too."

he pressed a kiss to your forehead, "you hungry?"

"i could eat,"

"perfect," he said, tapping your hip, "let's get dressed."

after getting yourselves situated, you smiled as he placed his hand on your thigh, pulling out of the parking lot.

"you know," you bit back a laugh, "you should get jealous more often."

"i literally hate you." he sighed before laughing softly.

"you love me."

"i do."

[jiminiecrickets]

LOVE'S LITTLE DAGGER: PART II. KTH / M!READER

summary. taehyung still hates you. he does. but you make him feel deeper things, and it's not just because you're buried up in his lungs.

wc. 4.8k

tags. smut | sub bottom!tae, dom top!reader, playboy tae, jealousy, mention of fwb!jimin, reader cockblocks tae once lol, alcohol mention, unprotected sex, 69, degradation: whore, slut (tae receiving), brat taming, rimming + ass eating, overstimulation + multiple orgasms, one mention of "daddy" (r. receiving)

[ part one ] [ requested ]

on the evening before the ultimate freeze of the universe, where even doomsday preppers have little power in a crumbled society, kim taehyung would remain a massive fucking dick.

this, like the inevitable heat death of everything everywhere all at once, remains a steadfast fact. his natural charisma – which you can't deny – would make him a leader in this hypothetical end-of-times, and you'd bet real money that he'd manage to swindle someone with a bunker out of it. then, of course, he'd kick them all out to feel existence die on their skin and hold his nintendo switch above his face as he lounges on a mattress.

welcome... to the check-in counter for your deserted island getaway package!

"taehyung! did you finish the milk again?"

"hm," he mumbles noncommittedly. he tucks his feet up against the couch armrest, squinting up at his switch.

you close the fridge with a huff and roll your eyes, disappearing into your bedroom. when you return, you're wearing a jacket, your phone and wallet clutched in one hand as you hop into a pair of shoes. you bee-line towards the couch and snatch his game away, turning it off and setting it on the coffee table next to him. he groans, throwing an arm over his eyes.

"stop complaining. you have class in two hours and you're wearing nothing but your underwear. i'm helping."

he scowls. "i'm not going today. i would be fine if someone didn't fuck me into next sunday!" he hears you walking away, and he raises his voice. "i hate you so much!"

"just put a shirt on," you call, one foot propping open the front door as you pat your pockets for everything you need. "you better be clothed by the time i return. you don't want to be running when you're sore, do you?"

"i hate you!"

"mhm, be back in fifteen."

the door swings shut with a click and he scoffs, glancing at the blinking screen of his game. he folds his arms over his chest and stretches his legs out, smoothing out his black briefs, and pouts to himself.

what a jerk. so callous. fine – if you were going to ignore everything that happened the night before, so would he. and, because he's very good at everything he does, he's going to beat you at it! he's going to ignore you so well and forget all about how you made him feel and find another guy who's willing to take him to bed. given his looks, he doubts he'll have to go far.

game on.

—

there's a boy on your lap. he's pretty – real pretty, with plump glossy lips and long sugar-brown hair styled in soft waves back from his forehead. he's playful, grinding and swaying his hips over your lap while his friends cheer him on. some of the guys from the beer pong table have stopped to watch.

taehyung simmers hotly in the corner of the room, scowling into his red cup. he nurses his drink, which is slowly fizzling flat and warm – he'd snooped around in the mini-fridge of the upstairs games room and found an unopened bottle of solo, which he promptly cracked open and hoped no one would notice. it feels better to carry around than a cold, wet can of cheap beer.

but god, did he wish he drank something alcoholic. maybe it'd take the sting out of the scene in front of him.

taehyung knows the boy in your lap. he's seen him sleeping peacefully in your bed when he passes by your cracked-open door in the mornings, and rumour has it that he's trying for something more than casual with you. the sight of your hands on his hips, reciprocating his touches, makes his stomach curdle like milk.

but who wouldn't want to be with you? you're smart, and handsome, and you remember people's favourite meals and make it for them when they're having a bad day. a bitter taste fills taehyung's mouth and he can't stand the taste of lemonade any longer.

he tips out the rest of his drink and tosses the cup into the bin, schooling his features into simple, shallow flirtatiousness, leaning against the beer pong table with an arch of his back that shortens his already-cropped jacket and accentuates his ass. he glances aside, meeting the eyes of the blandly-attractive guy currently winning the game, and smirks, bringing his lower lip between his teeth as he turns back to the cups of beer, playing coy.

the guy's mates whisper in his ears, glancing at taehyung with glimmering eyes. he elbows one of them in the stomach at something he says and the guy doubles over with laughter.

taehyung remains pleasantly oblivious to what they're saying and watches the ping pong ball bounce, its tap light and clear through the constant chatter and loud music. he smiles as it bounces neatly into a cup and he slips his fingers around the one closest to him, since the other team look to be in no position to be drinking any more than they already have. half of their team are blacked out on the ground.

a body sidles up to him. "hey."

his fingertip glides around the rim of his cup. his gaze flickers up; he tucks his lower lip between his teeth to hide a smile. "hey, yourself."

by the couch, jimin sits in the bowl of your lap, a fan of cards in his hands. he giggles softly as your arms shift around his waist and your chin rests on his shoulder. he tucks the fan of cards into his chest. "you're not allowed to look, hyung."

"can't i?" you hum into his shoulder. "i thought we were on the same team."

"i can't trust anyone but myself. you're probably double-teaming with jungkook." he inclines his head towards the younger man, who's sprawled upside-down on the couch with his feet hanging over the backrest.

you scoff, hands absently smoothing over his thighs before snaking around him again. "he doesn't need my help. if i were to double-team with anyone, i'd probably go with namjoon-hyung. he'd make sure we'd win. i'd just be his cheerleader. minimum effort to emerge victorious."

jimin hums, lowering his cards. he smells sweet, yet smoky. he tucks his lips into your neck and you feel them curve into a sneaky smile. "i think double-teaming would be fun, baby..."

you chuckle. "of course you would. hey, look sharp – you're still playing this game. it's almost your turn."

when taehyung sees him lean in, whispering against your skin and looking far too cosy for his liking, his stomach churns. he scoffs quietly and glides his fingers down his plaything's bare arm, slim and soft in an elven sort of way – the way rich boys tend to be, having never done a hard day's work in their lives.

he's nothing like you – he's entitled, pretentious, grabbing and pushing his body around as if he owns it. still, taehyung leans into his shoulder, glaring daggers into the side of your head until it tingles down your spine and you glance over.

when you do, he doesn't divert his eyes, doesn't curl his upper lip. he just levels his gaze, lifting another red cup of beer with a pinky raised in a mocking toast, and turns away, dragging his plaything along behind him by the wrist.

he refuses to give him any sort of affection, any pretence of gentleness. all he wants is a body above his and a high, no matter how dry and bland it'll be. anything to take his mind off of the unfamiliar and unwanted twist in his gut.

he finds an empty bedroom quickly – it's almost as if he's developed a sixth sense for them. he sets the cup of untouched alcohol on a chest of drawers and easily rolls into routine with the guy he'd stolen from the beer pong table – shirts off, shoes off, thoughts off.

the guy leans down to kiss him – he turns his head, letting his lips fall on the corner of his mouth instead. taehyung's down to his briefs, laying still on his back as the vaguely-familiar young man above him grinds against his ass, mostly dressed except for his shirt.

at least one of them is excited. he didn't even bother taking off his jeans – just unzipped his fly.

with a creak, the door opens, and yellow hallway light floods the room. taehyung doesn't lift his gaze from the dark corner of the room, examining the branches of a crack in the plain wallpaper.

"hey! what the fuck, man? room's taken, can't you see?"

"get off of him."

"what?"

"i said: get off of him, asshole. he's drunk – can't you see?"

stubbornly, taehyung shuts his eyes as he feels the body on top of him stumble, leaving him entirely. his skin prickles with the chill.

"he literally dragged me here, what's your damn problem? don't you hate this guy? look, man, just leave right now and i'll forget this ever happened, alright?"

"put your clothes on. he's going home."

evidently, he doesn't think taehyung's worth any more arguing, and he mutters as he picks his clothes up off of the floor and shuffles away. he doesn't close the door behind him, so you do it instead. the lock clicks. when you turn back around, you nearly jump out of your skin – taehyung stands upright three feet away, staring silently up at you.

"fucking – don't do that," you scold, taking his arm and sitting him down on the edge of the bed. he watches with furrowed brows as you move across the room, folding his clothes over your arm. you even grab his shoes for him, dropping them by his feet.

"arms out," you instruct, holding out his jacket. you're not going to even attempt his shirt – it has more buckles and straps than you can count and he'd be pissed if you managed to ruin it.

he just stares up at you, utterly confused.

"lift your arms, taehyung," you repeat, gently sliding his hands through the sleeves. he lets you, staring at the side of your face.

"okay. time to get your pants on."

his lips part. "i'm not drunk."

"mhm. stand up."

"no, really," he protests, grabbing your wrists before you can tug him to his feet. "i haven't had a sip tonight."

you glance at him. "you were holding a beer. you looked like you were drinking from it."

"i was just holding it." he shrugs. "i don't like beer – it tastes disgusting."

"oh." you lean back. "so... why'd you let me kick that guy out?"

he smiles wryly. "i wanted to see what'd happen."

"uh-huh. well, i can call him back, if you want."

his hand shoots out to grab your sleeve. "no," he says quickly. "i don't want him."

"no?"

"no." his grip loosens and he glances away, fisting the bedsheets below him. "sorry for scaring you. you can go back to jaemin, or whatever his name is. i'll get home fine on my own."

"jimin," you correct. your brows furrow. "wait... taehyung, are you jealous?"

"fucking no," he snaps, far too quickly.

a grin grows on your features. a glint returns to your eye as you place your hands on your hips. "holy fucking shit. you are. kim fucking taehyung is jealous over me." you bark out a laugh, turning away to amuse yourself with a bunch of skincare pots and tubes on the dresser nearby. "my dick that good, huh?"

his face burns. "shut the fuck up! it was average, at best. having a big cock doesn't mean you know how to use it."

you toss a pot of moisturiser in the air, catching it before placing it back. you saunter over to taehyung, whose arms are crossed over his chest petulantly. you lean down to his level. "and who was the one screaming for more, hm? you really think i believe it when you say i was just some average lay?"

he shoots to his feet and jabs you in the chest. "you were," he snarls. "i was being gracious. your technique's sloppy and it's like you'd never touched a guy before. you're lucky i was so pent-up – that's the only reason i finished at all."

your smirk widens and your gaze flickers over his body. his hair pricks on end with a shiver. you lean in, not quite touching him – as if there's an invisible layer separating you from him, a glass case for the piece of art. your breath is hot against the shell of his ear.

"really? so if i was to, say, start taking off my clothes... you wouldn't be interested?"

his breath hitches. he says nothing.

"is that a no, sweet thing?"

"no," he breathes. "it's not."

you lean back and your lips turn up. his body yearns for your warmth, goosebumps shivering over his skin. "don't worry, taehyung. i didn't expect an answer – you take an awful long time to do things, and it really shows when you're getting second place on the class leaderboard."

his head snaps towards you. he grabs your shirt and yanks you onto the bed, throwing a leg over your lap. his brows are furrowed, his mouth tight. "bringing our scores into this?" he hisses. "low fucking blow, ln. fine – i'll show you slow."

he pushes your shirt up over your stomach, scraping his nails over your hips as he loosens your belt and unzips your fly. you prop yourself onto your elbows to watch with a smirk as he takes you out of your pants, stroking and squeezing with reverence that he tries to hide.

it doesn't work very well. you can see the way he stares at it as it hardens in his palm, his gaze heavy and wanting with a flush to his cheeks. he kisses the tip, suckling on it as he dips his tongue into the slit, and groans softly as he trails his wet tongue down the underside along the veins, fisting it and swiping his thumb over the tip as he takes your balls into his mouth, one at a time.

you curse and tangle your hand in his hair. his mouth is hot and wet, his breath warm as he pants against the base of your cock, staring up at you with smoky eyes and ruby lips. he sucks softly, dragging his tongue along the velvety skin, and closes his eyes as you groan his name. he hums softly in acknowledgement, moving back to your cockhead. he lavishes his attention upon it, lapping at it and sucking gently on just the first few inches – he teases the rest, pumping it and twisting his wrist expertly.

you chuckle as he moans, his hips swaying in the air. you toss off your shirt. "you're enjoying this a little too much. fuckin' whore, getting off to this..."

he moans again, sharper this time. he doesn't even dispute it. he chokes down a few inches of your cock and your head falls back as his tight throat pulses around you.

it's almost funny how quickly he's abandoned the idea of teasing you. no more slow jerks of his wrist, no more kitten licks – he's fucking gulping you down, moaning quietly as saliva drips down his knuckles.

shit. you suck in a breath through your teeth. he's really fucking good at taking you. it's like magic, watching the inches disappear down his warm throat.

he only begins to slow down when he reaches the base of your cock, his fingers pumping it shallowly. his jaw is stretched wide around you, the vibrations of his moans through your cock sinful – his tight throat strokes you, closing around you, and he doesn't seem to care that he's gagging on it, bobbing his head to a quick, steady beat. he thrusts against air.

you lick your lips, finding your voice. when it comes out, it's raspy – hungrier than you want it to be. "fuck, sweetheart – c'mere. wanna taste you, too."

he pops off with a slick sound, panting against your shaft. his lips shine with saliva. he grins, breathless, and shimmies out of his tight briefs – he groans in relief when he frees his cock, wet and throbbing. he clambers on top of you, the air hot and thick – all attempts at smooth seduction are forgotten. he's messy, hungry, and so, so human.

you grin as he arches his back, his knees beside your head. from the way he's holding his hips, you can tell he expects you to give his cock a little love – but you like to subvert expectations, and instead, you grab his slim hips and drag his ass towards your face.

he startles, arching to glance back at you. you grin, eyes glinting, and lick a long stripe over his asshole.

his hips jerk. he moans, turning back to your cock, and kisses the tip with soft warm lips, precum beading at the slit.

you hum, fingers digging into the supple flesh of his ass. two of your fingers slip easily into him – either he's been playing with himself, or his body is still recuperating from your extensive loving the night before. either way, he moans loudly around your cock, rocking his hips down onto your fingers.

"pretty," you muse, watching the way he clenches around your fingers. "arch your back a little more, slut."

he gasps as your tongue laps at his rim. "f-fuck – eat me out properly, damn it! if you're gonna talk big game, you – mngh—!"

you can't reply because you've got your tongue in his ass. you'd smile at the absurdity of it all if you could – the boy you've been butting heads with all year sounds much better crying out for you.

you don't even know why he's being a little jealous baby. he could've just asked – there is no universe in which you'd turn down fucking kim taehyung.

but he's stubborn and a cocky sonovabitch. you can't say that it's not a little cute: angry pretty boys standing their ground, firm in their beliefs until they get so flustered they forget what their next argument is.

and kim taehyung is flustered. he's whining into your thigh, gripping your hip so tightly you think he's drawing blood. he rocks his hips onto your tongue, his ass clenching around it, and buries his hot face into your hip, panting and swearing his pretty little head off as his cock spurts and pulses hotly, overexcited.

arousal curls in your stomach as he drags your cock against his lips, sinking down on it to muffle his own moans. you buck your hips into his mouth and while he gags, he lowers himself further, one shaky hand cupping your balls, and bobs his head desperately, silky lips dragging against the veins of your cock. he swallows you deeper as your cock pulses and twitches against the tight walls of his throat.

you come without warning. serves him right, the attention whore, but he doesn't seem to mind – in fact, he seems to like it, moaning and whining around your cock as he struggles to keep it all in. he fails eventually, hot cum dripping down the corner of his lips as he glides off your cock with a wet kiss. his cock twitches, already wanting more.

you tease him, dragging out his orgasm as he grinds into your face. the warm weight of his body grows as he slumps onto you and you can't be annoyed at the fact that he's only loosely gripping your cock, too busy basking in his own afterglow. his breath is warm and quick against it.

you draw away, shifting under him as you guide him into your lap. he shivers, still a little dazed, but manages to find your hand in the tangle of limbs. he entwines his fingers with yours, his pounding heart fluttering in his chest.

he presses his lips to your neck, pushing you down against the bed – to your surprise, he tugs off your pants and underwear entirely, leaving you just as naked as he.

"was bothering me," he rasps, kissing your cock. he crawls up your body again, hovering over you face-to-face. "eat me out again."

"mh, would love to. just tell me when you wanna." you stroke his sides.

he tilts his head, those dark eyes clearing of their fog. "no, i'm not talking about a few days in the future or whatever. i'm talking now. i want your tongue in me right fucking now, baby – want you to make me come again with that silver tongue of yours." he grazes your lower lip with the pad of his thumb. "i like it better like this than down his throat."

you snicker, flipping your bodies over and hovering over him instead. you've done it in a way where he's on his stomach. "jealous bitch, aren't you?"

"says the one who calls me 'puppy'," he growls, eyes flashing. he leans into the pillows, his eyes challenging, and he spreads his legs, placing one hand high on his ass as he lifts his hips. "now stop yapping and fuck me, ln."

"sir, yes, sir," you tease. he feels your presence drift lower until your hands spread his ass.

at first, he entertains some degree of control, fucking himself back on your tongue as you groan into his skin, pulling his hips closer. he enjoys a second high, untouched, but you've grown curious. how many times can you make the infamous playboy come?

the answer: a lot. you just can't expect him to keep his wits about him after a few.

he's been on his knees for so long that they're beginning to hurt, even on the mattress. the discomfort, however, is far outweighed by your ravenous hunger – he can't stop crying out for you, your tongue and fingers working in tandem to fuck him stupid. you'd even started to pump his cock for him – he'd almost cried, throwing his head back with a whiny babble.

more, more, more. he'd begged for it – he knew this, somewhere at the back of his mind. he'd heard his own voice, usually so strong and steady, reduced to a crumbling whimper, collapsing in on itself as you pumped three fingers in and out of his wet hole, messy with lube and saliva.

you'd never seen him like this before. you never thought he could get like this – teary-eyed, flushed dark pink from head to toe, gaze faraway and hazy, focussed on nothing in particular even when you muse aloud about his latest academic losses. all he does is whine, trembling, and reach back blindly for your cock, groping and grabbing.

he pants over his shoulder. his red hair is coppery where it sticks to his skin, shining with a thin layer of sweat.

"please," he begs, grinding messily against your cock. "p-please, please..."

taehyung is gorgeous when he lets go. when your cock glides in with no resistance, his walls soft and hot around you, his eyes roll back into his skull, and he lets out a soft, thankful sob. his chest heaves as you push in deeper, testing how much he can take, and all he does is grab your hip, nails clawing at it as if he'd die otherwise.

his hole is sloppy with lube. you press your nose to his collarbone, groaning softly as he clamps around you.

his fingers dig into the white bedsheets, his eyes screwed shut as he focuses on remembering how to breathe. your cock grinds against his swollen prostate and he keens – his voice cracks as he whines into the pillows. you hush him, your hips moving quickly.

"daddy," he sobs, and by his tightening sides, you know he's close. his cock leaks like a broken faucet, bobbing between his messy thighs. his eyes roll back and he grips handfuls of the bedsheets. "fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck—"

he dissolves into a babbling mess. you groan into his shoulder, kissing the freckles smattered across it, and chuckle softly. "what a basic-bitch thing to like, sweetheart. it's almost cute."

he whimpers in response, his body jostling harshly. you grab his hip, forcing him to rock back onto you, and he drawls out a long, broken moan.

"takin' my cock so well, baby," you whisper, feeling his sides tense up at the praise. "like you were made to take it."

"mmh – mhm," he slurs out, spine arching and ass pressing deeper against your hips. he sucks his swollen lower lip between his teeth. he doesn't say anything else for a long time, losing himself in your constant gentle caresses.

despite biting his lower lip in an effort to quieten himself, his mouth soon hangs open, slick lips parted to loose loud, punched moans from deep in his belly. they're cute, quavering. he sounds as if he's about to burst into tears.

"g-gonna..." his fingers twist in the bedsheets, knuckles white. your cock glides in and out of his slick asshole, punching the air out of his lungs on every snap of your hips. he can't fucking breathe; it feels too good. "'m gonna...!"

"not until you make me come," you demand, your voice growing breathier by the second. your thrusts grow heavier, messier, and his voice cracks through a cry. "else i might decide jimin deserves my cock more, slut."

he squeezes his eyes shut, and a tear falls down his cheek from the corner of his eye. he moans as he throws his ass back on your cock, piercing himself again and again and again with the wet smack of skin on skin. when you come with a groan, he loses it – he hiccups past a cry of your name, nails digging painfully into the bedsheets. he comes so hard stars explode behind his eyelids and in his veins.

his body quivers as you fuck him lazily, your breath hot against the shell of his ear as you fill him up. your cock pulses inside him, thick and warm – he trembles, burying his face in the pillows, and lifts himself slightly on weak arms, pushing his back and shoulders against the numbing heat of your body.

with a shaky sigh, he leans back against you and you press your lips against his shoulder, securing his tingling body with one firm, steady hand. his hips jerk, his body still not finished with the aftershocks of his high, and you hush him, caressing his hip. his heart pounds beneath his ribs as if he's sprinted a marathon.

it takes a long time for him to blink awake from his whiteout daze, control returning to his limbs. he hums sleepily into your skin, his head propped up on your chest.

"fucking hell," he whispers wearily. you laugh at the extra rasp in his voice.

"fucking hell indeed," you reply, too tired to move off of the bed. you stroke his shoulder, tracing circles and hearts into his skin. you tuck your other arm under your head with a soft exhale. "can you still 'get home fine on your own'?"

he pauses for a while, trying to scoop enough of his brain into a pile to remember what you're talking about. he sighs, closing his eyes, and buries his face in your chest. "shut the fuck up. i'm not getting up 'til tomorrow. and when i do, you'd better be there to carry me."

"what the fuck – why'm i the one who has to do all the work all the time?"

"i will punch your stupid pretty teeth out if you don't."

you scoff, flicking your wrists up in some half-assed form of surrender. "yeah, yeah..."

he shifts, sliding his leg over yours, and cups your side in one hand. he practically clings to you like a koala. in the warm summer silence, his breaths slow, and his muscles relax. every so often, though, you feel him tense up and shift slightly.

after the first handful of times, you groan, irritated and drowsy. "quit fucking moving, idiot. just go to sleep."

his limbs tighten around you.

"stop worrying, taehyung. i'll be here when you wake up." your voice softens – just a smidge. "promise."

that smidge is all he needs. he rests his cheek against your collarbone and mumbles – something like don't tell me what to do – and squeezes you tighter, adamant on re-establishing his authority in this relationship. he falls dead asleep, though, in just a few minutes, snoring softly as he cuddles into you.

you smile. you'll let him have this win.

[0moony]

if only you knew (charlie kelly x afab reader oneshot) (smut!)

🌙~*~💫~*~✨~*~💫~*~🌙

tags: very cliche and short plot, mostly smut, charlie and reader fight, heat of the moment, charlie is kinda mean but his ultimate goal is to pamper reader, charlie is Feral for reader, rough-ish mdom, slight brat taming, praise, teasing, so much dirty talk, possessiveness, fingering, p in v

you have been a bartender at paddy’s pub for a while now. everyone you work with has grown to like you quite quickly. you do your job well, you bring in more regulars, and you’re a pretty likable, chill person in general.

the one wrench in it all is charlie kelly.

you don’t know why, but he doesn’t like you. whenever you’re in the same room together he does his best to ignore you specifically, and when he isn't you swear there are daggers in his eyes directed your way.

it’s all really strange because you don’t think anything ill of him. he’s a little weird, but charming. you even think he’s pretty attractive. but no one else seems to catch on or say anything, so you’re left wondering silently what’s wrong with you in his eyes, going about your business as usual. at least the rest of the gang seems to like you a lot.

one morning you’re in paddy’s getting things together for the day. you haven’t been there long, still nursing a coffee you’d picked up on the way and restocking the bar when you hear the door open. this is unusual, typically you are alone at this hour.

you look up quizzically and see charlie walking in by himself.

“oh hey, charlie.” you give him a polite smile. he notices you and awkwardly slows in his tracks, looking like he’s dreading even greeting you.

“oh.. yeah. hey, (y/n).” he replies dryly.

“you’re here early.” you point out casually. he lets out a sigh and rubs the back of his neck, starting to step backwards.

“yeah, uh.. i think i’ll come back later. s’ya..”

your face scrunches up in confusion and you frown, but before you can say anything or question him he is already out the door. you put down the container of maraschino cherries you’re refilling with a small huff. you don’t understand why he’s so unwilling to be around you. you really can’t stand it anymore.

and so you grab your things and decide to follow him. figuring he’s just heading back home, you start there, and you guess right. when you knock on the door to his apartment, he opens. he sees you and looks to the side with an air of exasperation, putting a hand on his hip.

“charlie..” you open your mouth to speak before he can say anything. you feel a little nervous but you do your best to hold your resolve to confront him, not wanting to be left in the dark any longer. it’s obvious he has a problem with you, and you need to know what it is. “i just.. i just have to ask you something.”

you can see his jaw tense slightly but he doesn’t stop you, and so you take that as a sign to continue.

“why don’t you like me?” you’re being vulnerable now and you have to resist the urge to cringe at yourself. he doesn’t say anything for a long moment, before he puffs air out of his nose and shakes his head.

“look, (y/n), there’s really nothing to talk about.” he replies, brushing you off entirely. “could you just leave me alone?” he says, his voice calm but with a biting undercurrent of something you can’t quite grasp. you recoil slightly, taken aback. you know he isn’t fond of you, but he’s never been so blunt about it before.

he starts to shut the door on you but without thinking you force your way past him and into his apartment. he scoffs, sharp irritation hardening his features. you meet his gaze with your own firm stare, determined, and try once more to get through to him. “i’m sorry, just- please tell me what’s wrong-”

“fuck off.” he cuts you off. your eyes widen and your jaw drops, staring at him as if he just grew a second head.

“excuse me?” you’re completely offended. he grits his teeth but doesn’t immediately reply, doesn’t even look at you.

“i don’t want you here.” he replies, clearly hoping you’ll just go away. you don’t. you can’t stand this anymore.

“no. i’m not leaving until you tell me what i’ve done to make you hate me so much.” you demand, stepping towards him. he huffs.

“i don’t hate you.” he bites out, finally looking you in the eyes. there’s an intensity there, frustration and something else you can’t quite place.

“yeah, well, you’ve been treating me like shit ever since i started working with you, i think i deserve some kind of explanation.” you insist, all your bottled up feelings coming to a head. he turns away from you, clenching his fists.

“for fuck’s sake, (y/n). you’re really going to make me say it, aren’t you?”

“say what?” you take another step towards him and he casts you a dangerous glance.

“you want to know why i’ve been cold to you? why i try to keep my distance from you as much as possible?” he circles around and steps towards you now, a warning laced in his words.

“yeah, i do.” you hold his gaze and the muscles in his jaw clench.

“it’s because i fucking want you, (y/n). is that what you wanted to hear? it drives me crazy.” the words tumble out of him as if he can’t hold them in anymore. you stare up at him in complete shock.

“..w-what?” your voice is suddenly soft, your face scrunching up in confusion. as if he can’t control himself any longer he closes the distance between you until the back of your legs hit his futon, nearly stumbling backwards on it. you can feel your heart beating faster and your blood warming by the second.

“you just couldn’t leave well enough alone, could you?” he lets out a big sigh, hanging his head. his hands twitch at his sides as if he was fighting the urge to touch you.

“i-i don’t-“

“you heard me, (y/n). i want you.” he lifts his gaze to look straight at you, his face inches away. his eyes search yours knowingly, as if he’s uncovering a secret you didn’t even know you held. the secret is that you want him too.

“you’re an asshole.” you lightly scoff and furrow your brows at him, but it doesn’t cover the awestruck look on your face or the sudden rosiness to your cheeks. a smirk curves at his lips and he shakes his head.

“then why are you here?”

your lips part but nothing comes out. you can’t reply. you can’t say that you don’t want him. but you’re too stubborn in this moment to confirm his suspicions and give him the satisfaction. noticing your silence, he gives you another chance. one of his hands comes up to cup your jaw, his touch warm and surprisingly gentle, almost reverent.

“just say the word and i’ll leave you alone, pretend this never happened.” he offers, his voice a low murmur that sends shivers down your spine. his thumb traces featherlight circles on your jaw and his gaze is soft as he waits for your reply, a far cry from the typical avoidant looks you’re used to from him. you just shake your head. he lifts your chin until your lips are only a breath apart.

“you want this?”

“..yes.”

a hint of a smile breaks his features somewhere between cocky and elated, overjoyed that you’re reciprocating his feelings and delighted that he got you to admit it. he savors the vulnerable look on your face for a second longer before he can’t hold himself back anymore and captures your lips with his own.

it’s hot and heavy right out of the gate. his arms wrap around you, one going around your waist to pull you closer and the other tangling in your hair to cradle your head. the way he kisses you, slow yet deliberate, passionate and hungry, instantly makes your knees weak. but luckily you don’t have to worry about standing upright much longer, not once his hands slide down to your waist and urge you back onto his futon, following after you until you’re laying down underneath him.

“you have no idea how much i’ve thought about this.” he rasps, his lips making a purposeful path down your neck, tongue and teeth dancing across your flesh.

“why didn’t you say something?” you huff, still miffed despite the arousal coursing through you.

“i’m not.. i’m not good at this sort of thing.” he mumbles into the crook of your neck, his voice slightly apologetic as his nose nuzzles against the space underneath your ear. he’s liked you pretty much as long as he’s known you, but he’s always been too scared to do anything about it. you ruminate on this explanation before his teeth sink a little harshly into the curve of your neck, letting out his lingering irritation.

“ow-“ you gasp softly as you feel a wave of heat rise in the pit of your stomach. the hint of pain from the bite turns you on more than you expected. “okay fine, but i don’t think acting like a dick is the best alternative.” you grumble, flustered. he pulls away slowly, glancing at the small mark he left on your skin with satisfaction before meeting your gaze, furrowing his eyebrows and giving you a stern look.

“i’m planning on making it up to you if you’d shut up and let me.”

“how?”

“making you cum, for starters.” he says matter-of-factly. you feel your cheeks grow even warmer.

“what a gentleman.”

“that’s right, i am.” he mutters before locking your lips once more. his fingers start to snake under your shirt. “take this off.” he demands gruffly. you hesitate, something holding you back. maybe you’re starting to like this little back and forth, seeing his reaction to your defiance. when you don’t immediately do as he says he pulls back again, his eyes dark.

“i’m gonna need you to drop the act before i drop it for you, princess.” he warns, his voice clear and even despite the fact that he looks like he wants to rip your clothes off. he’s wanted you for so long and now that he has you he isn't going to be patient about it. you stop hesitating, this rougher side of him turning you on.

“now, that’s better. atta girl.” he simpers, his features relaxing when you slip your shirt up and over your head followed by your bra. he leans in to whisper pure filth in your ear as his hands cup your newly exposed breasts, quickly making you delirious. “i can’t wait to fuck that brattiness out of you, you know that?” he punctuates his words by pinching one of your nipples between his fingers and you whimper. “make you forget all about the stupid jerk i’ve been, yeah?” he adds, a little more sincere.

“yes, please,” you nod eagerly, your thighs pressing together from arousal. he catches this and smirks to himself.

“you’re real easy now that you’re all needy, huh, baby?” he questions, peppering kisses along your neck as he rolls his thumbs over your nipples until they’re stiff. you whine, partly out of embarrassment and partly in agreement. one of his hands leaves your chest to slide down your front.

“let’s see how wet she is already.” he mumbles huskily as his fingers suddenly slip beneath your pants and panties to find your wet slit, making you gasp. you soak his fingers instantly and he growls lowly at the feeling. “fucking dripping.. what’s got you so turned on, sweetness?” he teases, looking down at you.

“y-you..”

“yeah? what about me?” he asks, watching you closely as he lightly strokes your clit with a fingertip. your lips part to say something but instead you just moan shakily as your hips arch into his hand in a silent plea for more. he chuckles and shakes his head.

“you know..” he starts, his other hand lifting your chin so that you can’t shy away before he leans in, pressing light, affectionate kisses to the apples of your cheeks. “i think you like it when i’m a little mean to you.” he grins, taking his hand out of your undergarments and bringing his shiny fingertips to his lips for a taste right before your eyes. the sight makes you breathless, and you almost forget to defend yourself.

“i don’t know what you’re-“

“shh, one second..” he interrupts you to take hold of your pants and panties, smoothly pulling them down and off. once they’re discarded on the ground somewhere he doesn’t hesitate to push your thighs apart, his gaze zeroed in on your pussy.

“don’t shush me..” you grumble meekly, blushing from feeling so exposed and vulnerable before him. he looks up only to give you an amused glance.

“you’re really still trying to argue?” he questions. before you can form a rebuttal, he interrupts again. “silly..” he chides, clicking his tongue. “i can see how much you love this.” he nods to the heat between your legs to prove his point, running a thumb through your slick folds. you shiver, your breath hitching at the contact. “you’re gonna let me do whatever i want, won’t you?” he can’t help but taunt you, knowing it’s riling you up even more.

“t-that’s not- ah!” you’re about to feebly deny this accusation (even though it’s true) when he suddenly spanks your pussy, making your body jump and your clit throb from the harsh yet delicious feeling. instead of tensing up after the fact your legs naturally spread even wider, which he gleefully takes note of.

“what a sight..” he muses, intensely satisfied with how responsive you are. before you can get your bearings again he slips one of his fingers inside of you and circles your clit simultaneously. “i need you to stop fighting me, baby. i just wanna make it up to you, make you feel good.” he coos hypnotically as he pumps his finger in and out, soon adding a second one. when your head falls back with a moan, he knows he has you. “can you do that? can you be a good girl for me?”

“yes..” you reply breathlessly.

“yeah? gonna let me take care of you? let me put you in your place like you need?”

“yes. charlie, please,” you whine, your hips jumping as he angles his pumping digits just right.

“that’s right. i knew you’d come around, huh?” he grins, his eyes dancing with wicked satisfaction as he watches you melt with pleasure. your head lolling back and your back arching off the futon, moaning all for him.

“do you like that, baby? you like my fingers?” he purrs. they’re thick and deep, filling you up so perfectly that you can’t think about anything else.

you nod almost frantically, whimpering as pornographic sounds of your wetness fill the air. you’re so turned on, it feels like your lower belly is already growing hot with the looming threat of climax. but suddenly, he stops. his fingers go still deep inside of you, teasing you with fullness and nothing more. he curls them, lightly stroking that sweet spot inside of you that makes your eyes roll back.

“say it.” he commands, watching you. your eyebrows pinch together both from the sweet agony of being held at the precipice of pleasure and the embarrassment of what he’s making you do.

“yes, i love your fingers,” you breathe out, your lips curving into a pout. “please don’t stop..” you beg, arching into his hand desperately.

“aw, don’t worry, baby. i’ve got you.” he chuckles softly, resuming his magical touch. you melt back into the couch with a moan.

“thank you, thank you..” you babble gratefully. charlie lets out a laugh.

“look at that, remembering your manners,” he simpers, finger-fucking you steadily. you whine and clench around his digits, your back arching. “you gonna cum, sweetness? c’mon, let me make it all better..” he coaxes, his free hand sliding over your curves reverently before settling on your hip, holding you in place.

“fuck, charlie.. m’ so close..” you cry. he lets out a hum of satisfaction and leans in to place open-mouthed kisses and bites over your breasts, pumping his fingers faster.

“cum, (y/n). do it. that’s all i want.” he whispers, a hint of desperation creeping into his tone as he pulls back. he’s hovering over you now, his eyes half-lidded and his pupils blown wide as he watches your writhing form.

the coil in your belly winds tighter and tighter, and you let your head loll as you climb towards that inevitable peak. you feel you’re about to explode when he grabs you by the jaw, forcing you back to face-level.

“eyes on me.” he rasps. there’s an intensity in his gaze, as if he doesn’t want to miss a single detail. you’re completely wrecked and it’s all his doing. you obey, and the added touch of dominance sends you flying over the edge.

you struggle to keep your eyes open and focused on him as the pleasure overwhelms you, making you shake and sob. when you’re orgasm starts to subside and you’re left rolling with the waves of wonderful aftershocks, charlie leans in to kiss you as if it was his last chance on earth. his mouth moves against yours in a passionate, hungry embrace that’s not easy to keep up with amidst the fog of pure bliss clouding your senses.

“so good, s’good for me..” he mumbles against your lips, his digits still slowly moving inside of you until he’s absolutely sure that you’re spent. he takes his fingers out, using them to circle your clit that still burns with sensitivity. “fucking soaked my fingers, baby.”

you shiver and your cheeks burn at his dirty words, your hips twitching with each featherlight, torturous brush on your heated flesh. but then he finally pulls his hand away, and you let out a long exhale of relief against his lips, not much more than a puddle of satisfaction. he wipes the remnants of your juices on your thigh and then braces both of his hands on either side of you, fully caging you in underneath him.

when he breaks the kiss to plant searing hot kisses along your jawline, your eyes dart greedily to the way his bicep flexes beside your head and the way his fingers dig into the couch. but his next words pull you out of your lustful stupor.

“how’re you feeling? can you take more?” he rasps hotly against your skin. “please say yes, (y/n). i need you.” he punctuates his words by pressing his hips into yours, both of you letting out little gasps at the contact. you can feel him through his jeans and it makes your stomach lurch with need. he sounds so desperate, his tongue and teeth grazing the delicate skin around your pulse point with an almost feral intensity as if he was struggling not to devour you right then and there.

“yes, god.. please charlie.” you’re still reeling from your orgasm moments ago but utterly consumed with desire, insatiable for him. he pulls back with a growl, not even having the patience anymore to tease you for sounding so ruined already.

charlie throws his shirt off, and your eyes trace the line of hair that forms a path from his navel and disappears into his pants as he takes hold of your legs. he folds them towards your chest, spreading you wide open before he quickly undoes his jeans and pushes them down along with his boxers. his hardness falls out heavily, your mouth practically watering and your core fluttering at the sight.

he takes himself in his hand and settles between your spread thighs, cursing under his breath as he presses the tip against your wet folds. he looks entranced as he stares down at you, pulling a whine from your throat as his cock swipes over your clit.

“you’re gorgeous..” his adam’s apple bobs visibly as he says this. on the surface it’s sweet, but a flame overtakes his irises that burns with possession. he’s sure you’re his already, but in case of any doubt he’s determined to fuck you thoroughly, to prove himself as the only one to satisfy you, the only one you’ll ever need.

he notches the head at your entrance, so close to breaching. “ready, sweetness?” he asks, and you enthusiastically nod. he pushes in, both of you melting into the sensation until eventually he bottoms out inside of you, your legs slotting snugly at his sides. goosebumps erupt on your skin, your jaw dropping and your toes already curling from how good he feels.

his hair falls in his face as he hangs his head, letting out labored breaths. “christ, (y/n). you’re fuckin’- you’re perfect.” charlie groans, his hands clenching into white fists on either side of you. you’re drunk with pleasure but your eyes are focused on him, drinking in how beautiful he looks.

“how’s it, lovely? filling you good?” he checks in, and his choice of words make you dizzy.

“so good, charlie, please-“ you whimper, rolling your hips up to meet his, inviting him that much deeper inside of you. he growls and grabs your side with one hand, pinning you down.

“‘please?’ how cute.” his eyes flash with dark satisfaction at the sight of you so needy for him, so shameless. “you begging me to fuck you proper, sweetness? is that what my girl needs?”

before you reply he tests the waters, pulling out halfway before slamming back into you just once. you mewl, opening up just a bit more around him. you want so badly to buck your hips, desperate for more but he ensures that you can’t. your head swims, already so far gone you hardly remember to ask for what you want.

“y-yes, fuck. need you so bad. please, please fuck me.” you practically sob out your reply, losing your sanity with the way his girth pulses hotly inside of you, stretching you deliciously. you’re so stuffed full it feels like there isn’t a single nerve inside of you left untouched, a single inch of you left unclaimed.

“mhmm.. i will, i will.” he soothes, beginning a steady, powerful pace. your eyes roll back into your skull as the rhythmic sound of skin meeting skin fills the space. “that’s. fuck. ing. it.” he bites out, punctuating each syllable with a thrust that makes your whole body bounce underneath him.

you moan over and over. at this angle he’s hammering into your g-spot and hitting your cervix on each downward snap of his hips, igniting your every sweet spot until you see stars. you gush around him, surely making a mess. you’re so wet that there’s no doubt of how much you love this, how much you need this. and if that somehow isn’t proof enough, the way your hole is already twitching around him definitely is.

“sweet, slutty little pussy.” charlie huffs as he pounds into you, never letting up for even a second. “she’s so grateful. getting exactly what she needs, huh, baby?” you just nod and babble in agreement, feeling as if you’re floating out in space instead of on earth.

“yeah, needed my cock.” he sinks all the way to the hilt and grunts, pressing his weight into you. you cry out, your thighs quivering on either side of him. you’re panting for breath, the only thing on your mind how desperate you are for him to move again.

but before you can complain in earnest, he suddenly pulls out and rolls you onto your front. his hands dig hungrily into the fat of your hips as he guides you into position, raising your ass in the air. you’re still processing the sudden change of position, your brain seconds behind when he sheathes himself inside you again in one smooth motion, erasing any attempt you made at awareness anyway. he’s inside of you again, that’s all that’s important to your lust-drunk body.

your back arches beautifully and you let out a shuddering moan. he leans forward, one of his hands tangling into your hair and pushing your head down until your cheek smooshes against the couch. this makes you quiver around his cock, utterly unable to do anything but take what he gives.

he starts moving again, rutting into you from behind like an animal. it’s calculated, each sharp pump designed to make your body sing with ecstacy. but at the same time it’s feral, that little bit of selfishness creeping in and making his control wane.

“my cock. nobody else’s, right?” he picks up where he left off, his voice a deep growl. when you only mewl in response, he grips your hair tighter and leans in to speak directly in your ear, his chest pressing flush against your back. “right, (y/n)?”

your fingers claw into the sheets from how good he’s fucking you, absolutely brain dead. still, you scramble to form a response. hours ago you would have never imagined being in such a position with charlie, but now you’re convinced you need him to survive.

“yeah, needed your cock. just yours, love it so much..” you’re hardly coherent in your reply, constantly interrupted by sounds of pleasure spilling up from your throat.

“mhmm, and you’re taking it so well, baby. taking it like such a good girl.” he coos, letting up a little on your scalp. “my girl.”

you’re head feels heavy with pleasure, the praise making you feel so good. it scratches that itch in your brain, the reward center. you’re sure to get addicted. your legs tremble underneath you, a white hot flame erupting across your entire body as a second orgasm draws near.

“charlie, i need to-“ you’re almost doing a proper job at speaking when a particularly pointed thrust nearly sends you into orbit, reducing you to a mess once more. “need t’cum, need t’cum, charlie, please please please,” you chant dumbly, tettering on the edge.

charlie grunts, starting to succumb to his own impending climax as you tighten around him. “mm, god.. you don’t have to ask for it, sweetness. s’what i’m here for.” he wants to say more, to tell you how dedicated he is to making you feel good. to tell you how pretty you sound begging for it even if you don’t need to, how he loves how sweet and pliant you are like this, how adorably polite you become when you’re a desperate whore for pleasure, for him.

but his focus narrows down to a single point, the building sensations between you taking precedence. he looks down at where your bodies join and he watches you take him again and again, mesmerized. “i’m close too, angel. go on, squeeze my cock.” he pants, his voice breaking as he too approaches the edge.

one, two, three delicious thrusts more and you’re gone, close to weeping as he fucks you through your orgasm. a couple more thrusts, a couple more seconds of your cunt sucking him in so perfectly, and he’s right there with you, only slowing once he’s sure he’s spent every drop of his release.

you and charlie soon collapse into a sweaty heap on his futon, completely fucked out. your body vibrates with pleasure from your head to your toes like a warm glow, a deep sense of peace and contentment settling over you both.

after a bit he untangles himself from you, rolling onto his back and wrapping an arm around you to pull you close. you rest your head on his chest, your eyes closing as you settle back onto earth, bathed in comfort. you feel him shift and bring a hand to your face, brushing a gentle thumb over your cheek. you open your eyes to find him already staring at you with a mixture of tenderness and smugness.

“did i make it up to you?” he asks simply, an amused gleam in his eyes. your lips curve into a smile as you contemplate your answer. obviously it’s a resounding yes, but you can’t resist vying for more.

“hm.. i dunno. i might need more convincing.” you reply coyly. he snorts.

“oh, really?” he says in an exaggerated, sarcastic way, shaking his head. “slut..” he teases, unable to hide his smirk.

your jaw drops in mock offense and you lightly punch his arm. “am not!” you scoff, trying to be serious, but both of you soon dissolve into giggles. his head falls back against the pillow, letting out a gleeful laugh that brings you joy just by seeing it. once you settle, he looks down at you again with a soft grin, his dimples popping out.

“you’re cute.”

🌙~*~💫~*~✨~*~💫~*~🌙

[undercoverpan]

Aonider? Spidung? No good names for this ship im afraid

Neteyam is going to kill someone.

Preferably Aonung.

It all started this morning. He spent his time walking along the shores as he enjoyed the breeze. His mother and father spent so much time fretting over him, and while he did appreciate it, it was getting unbearable. He wasn't made of glass and he didn't need to be babied.

It was this morning when he saw footsteps in the sand. He recognized Spiders instantly, and after almost a complete year, he recognized Aonungs' too. What could those 2 possibly be doing together?

Aonung is so weird around Spider. The second that Neteyam or his family walk in on him talking to Spider, he turns tail and runs off. And Neteyam is no fool, he suspects that the other is harassing Spider just like he did with his brother and sister. He supposed the other got wise and tried to hide it, but now is the perfect chance to catch him in the act.

Quickly, he followed their tracks. He quiets his footsteps when he catches a glimpse of them, taking cover behind a rock. Sneakily, he watched them.

Aonung had his large hands near Spider's face, his fingers brushing gingerly against his mask. He had to hold himself back from stepping out right then and there. He had this look on his face, a smile, but not the cruel and mean one he sent towards him and his siblings before. No, this one seemed almost….soft, in a way. He said something that made Spider laugh.

He saw Aonung put something in Spiders' hair. It was pretty, ornate; he recognized small shells and pearls in the design. 

It was not something you'd casually give to someone you barely know.

In fact, if Neteyam thought really hard, it looked like a courting gift. But that's insane, Aonung courting Spider? Without even asking permission from his family? Without asking his? Preposterous. Impossible.

Neteyam had shoved Aonung to the ground, hissing at him. He felt Spider tugging at him, but chose to ignore it for now. "What is this?" He asked, "What's going on here?"

Aonung looked startled, then embarrassed.

"Nothing, forest boy! Why are you out here anyway? Shouldn't you be resting?" He grounded out as he got back up, smart enough to not try to reach out to Spider, or even glance at him. Neteyam only glared at him, grabbing him by his arm. "If you want to do this, then you do this properly. You will not disrespect me, Spider or our family." He hissed as he walked off towards their marui. Spider tried to follow, but he hissed at him and told him to help out somewhere. The other looked hurt.

That's how the others woke up to Neteyam standing with his hand clasped firmly around Aonungs bicep.

"Neteyam? What are you doing; you're supposed to be taking things easy." His father said as he approached his son. The boy was clearly agitated, his tail whipping like a live wire. "I think Aonung has something to ask us." He said through gritted teeth, glaring daggers at the Na'vi. Jake approached them cautiously, worry evident in his eyes. He glanced between the two. He could feel Neytiri at his side, Lo'ak, Kiri and Tuk not too far behind them. The air was heavy as they all focused on the 2 boys.

"I…wanted to ask you, and your family, Jake Suli, if I can have your blessing to……court Spider."

"Fuck no!" Lo'ak said immediately. Jake had to agree, while Aonung was a respectable young man, he didn't want him courting his son. He felt a protective sort of anger rising in him.

"No." 

Neytiri's voice was sharp as it rang out. She stepped forward, taking the lead on the proposal.

"No, you do not have my permission to court my son."

My son.

That's the first time Neytiri called him that, and he's not here to hear it.

_____

Jake was strewn across the floor, knife in hand. He sharpened it, so deep in thought that he hardly noticed himself narrowly avoiding some missing fingers.

Spider was too young to date. He was much, much too young. Sure, on earth you start with that kind of stuff earlier, but Pandora was safe from that behaviour. Then there's the official 'claiming each other as mates' part, the 'mating before Eywa' part. He didn't–, he's obviously not going to think of his son like that, but Spider was just a boy, a human one at that. Even he and Neytiri never…. Did it while in his human body. Spider's just too fragile. 

No, no, they were right to reject the proposal. Spider should only start dating in his 30s.

And if Aonung or anyone else tried courting him without their blessing….

"Ow." Jake said in surprise, holding up his hand to inspect a small cut on his finger.

_____

Night has fallen, and Spider is tucked into the Sullies sleeping forms. He's angry at Neteyam, so he's nuzzled between Lo'ak and Kiri. He came home upset, with this beautiful ornament in his hair. Aonung didn't do anything, he insisted, what did you do to him? He won't even talk to Spider anymore. He's mad, and he has every right to be, but still.

He's no clue about courting, or mating, or anything like that. As his father, he'll make sure it stays that way. As his parents, his brothers and sisters, they'll make sure. 

____

Aonung sleeps on his own. He's got a small bead in his hand, made of wood rather than anything the Metkayina would usually use.

Spider's gift. Reciprocation. 

As he stared up at the ceiling, he smiled. Maybe he should just go for it, instead of asking for permission.

______

Jake would stand threatening with a gun when giving his child's partner the shoveltalk

[daddysfangirls-dc]

The Arrangement

Ch 5- Preparing for Dinner

Damian Wayne x OC!Female

Prev | Next

They Gathered around a few paces away from the threshold of the kitchen, listening to the commotion of dishes and smelling the delicious aroma of food wafting out of the kitchen.

"What is he doing?" Tim whispered

"I don't know," Dick returned.

"He's preparing tonight's dinner." They turned around to find Damian with a less-than-impressed look.

"This is a lot for a simple Saturday family dinner," Stephanie said, still trying to figure out the collective smell. 

"It is not a simple dinner," he said as he walked past them to the kitchen, opening the door but not stepping past the threshold. The others came up behind him, looking inside. As chaotic as the kitchen appeared, Alfred had an aura of control. " My fiance is attending."

"Your fiance?!"

"Yes, the madam is attending this evening," Alfred said

"We need to prepare."

"I couldn't agree more, Master Bruce," Alfred said, patting his hands on his apron. He picked up some papers and began to pass them out to the others. 

"What is this?" Tim asked 

"Chores. We must prepare the house for the lady's arrival. I'll have nothing out of place."

"Alfred, this isn't-" That look, that look that tells you to shut up and nothing is up from questioning. 

"Nothing. Out. Of. Place."

"Yes, sir," Bruce said meekly, knowing his place in this situation. The manor was now Alfred's, and everyone was falling in line. Their chore list was relatively short, just telling them to clean up their specific areas, mainly their bat things. A smelling cleaning crew was already working its way through the house. 

"What about Damian?" Stephanie pointed accusingly at said person. He just glared at her finger. 

"Damian already has his duties." Damian pulled out his car keys, dangling them.

"Where are you going?" Jason asked.

"To tend to my fiance," and with that, he left, leading his siblings and father in the capable hands of Alfred. All will be well, hopefully.

-

Damian entered the apartment as quietly as possible, putting the garment bags on the kitchen table. In the living room, Syn lay across the couch, eyes closed, with an open book on her chest. " Do you plan to sleep all day?"

"No, I was seemly resting my eyes while waiting for you."

"I have arrived," he says, entering the kitchen. She gets up, putting her book-hidden dagger on the coffee table. 

"What did you bring?"

"I have five dresses for you to choose from. They should match the shoes you already have." He replaced a sandwich he had just made in front of her. " Eat. Then, we take a quick shower to start getting ready."

"The dinner is in several hours." Syn did not play into the myth of females taking hours to get ready. She doesn't like the idea of people waiting for or being late. If it was trained into her by the Lwague or her family, she did not remember, but it stuck. 

"I want to debrief you on the family. Your information might be stale, but I want you to be adequately prepared. Plus, I want you to have time to try on all your dresses. Properly pick one."

"I trust your choice."

"I want you to have an opinion," she sighed. Syn hoped he'd pick something, and she wouldn't have to pick something to impress his family. She'd go by his taste. But now she had to dress to impress, but casually and appropriately. She could do it, but she would rather Damian do it. He was more artistic anyway. She just wasn't in the mood. 

"It isn't as bad as you imagine. We have time, so please just try them on." Damian said. Syn sighed but conceded to finishing her sandwich before going to the shower. 

"Who all will be there?" she called from preparing her shower. She left the door open so they could hear. 

"All my siblings and Stephanie never turn down a free meal or drama. However, Barbara's attendance is unknown and not likely."

Stephanie thought while Damian had grown up and was no longer a brat, he was still stuck up and in no way a fiance in his future. She loved chaos, and she would most definitely pull up a seat for tonight. Barbara was unknown. She wasn't a vulture for the drama and had frequent dinners with her own father. It was more than likely she'd be with her father.

"I'm aware of your father's adoption problem, so tell me about these siblings." 

"Same ones as before, no new additions. Dick, Jason, Tim, Cassandra, and Duke. We've been monitoring him, ensuring no new strays." he heard her laugh in the shower. She was well aware of his father's adoption addiction, as his siblings called it. They had a good laugh when he broke his basis and took in Cassandra and Duke, breaking the whole male, blue eyes, black hair routine. 

"You think we could convince Alfred to join us?" she asked 

"It is a special occasion."

-

After her shower, Damian dressed her, trying on all Five dresses until settling on a Floral Bustier dress, white with blue flowers paired with white stilettos and heels. 

Now Damian was doing her hair while debriefing her on his family. Dick was still in Bludhaven but making frequent visits to Gotham. He also paused the romanize and is no longer dating. Although he spent a lot of time with Babs, no one was saying anything.

Jason was doing much better. The pit madness was no longer a topic of discussion. His gang was helping the community, and he was spending a lot of time with Roy and Lian; no one knew what was happening there, but they weren't going to ask either. He was doing well they were leaving it at that. 

Tim was okay being CEO and still working with the Titans and individual cases, and everyone was watching him. His apartment was a revolving door of well-checks at this point.

Cassandra was dancing well with her company and traveling for the business and her cases.

Duke was enjoying college. Most of his days were spent doing things for school classes, homework, and programs. Everyone was very proud. 

Stephanie was also in college, although pursuing a different degree. She was also involved in many classes and programs. Everyone was doing their best to help and decrease their caseload. They were going to ensure they graduated. 

Barbara was doing food and, as the head of Gotham City public library, was working on new programs and even putting in some upcoming public foundations. 

All of his siblings, official and unofficial, were doing well.

"Any topics off limits?"

"Besides the obvious? " The spleen, the chair, the rage, the titan tower, and emotional constipation. Anyone who knew the family well knew only to approach these topics if necessary, and most were never necessary.

She leaned her head back into his hands. " You are more than prepared for the individuals that will be at this dinner."

"But am I prepared for dinner?"

"No one is ever prepared for dinner," he said as he turned her around and handed her a hand-held mirror showing her what he had done to her hair. He had left her hair done but had decorated it with elaborate small braids, half up and half down, all out of her face. 

Beautiful." Her hand hovered over it. She feared touching it would cause it to fall apart. Damian had truly earned his title as an artist in every aspect. " You never cease to amaze me, darling."

"It's a simple style" it wasn't " do you want me to do your makeup next?"

"Do I need makeup?" he held her chin, tilting her head up and running his thumb over her bottom lip.

"No," he pulled away, " I'm going to take a shower." she was too breathless to speak so she nods and watches him walk away to the shower.

She sighed deeply once she heard the shower turn on. Kicking off her stilettos, she gets up, puts his suit on the bed, and takes the laptop into the kitchen, sitting at the counter. She wanted to do a deeper dive on the family Damian gave on overview of personalities and current focuses/amitions but she wanted to know more have more informant be able to contribute to the family conversations.

She hated to admit it, but she treated the dinner like a mission and the family like targets, and she always researched her target. The goal of this mission was to earn favor with the Wayne family.

She could do this. 

[razorblade180]

Thief’s Gambit

After a routine patrol of Vacou, Carmine sits on a rooftop, quietly on a rooftop. Normally she’d be ready to return home, but tonight she was given an anonymous request to wait at the Kingdom’s central location. Not one to ignore suspicious events, Carmine didn’t dare ignore the request. She’d get her answers soon enough. After all, there was someone already approaching behind her.

???: Such a goodie two shoes. It’s really impressive.

Carmine:What do you want, Mona?

Mona:Abrasive as ever. I thought you would’ve been a little surprised to learn I sent the request. After all, I really can’t stand you.

Carmine:Which is why I’m not surprised. *turns around* So what? Is this where you pull your daggers out and “settle the score?” I have to warn you I am incredibly tired and won’t hesitate to arrest-

Mona:Blah blah blah! Let me speak god damnit! You long winded types are so annoying. I’m here to ask you for a once in a lifetime favor. And before you say anything, no, it has nothing to do with a dumb relic sword.

Carmine:Wasn’t thinking about it until you said something. Not like I have access to it anyway. Cut to the chase already.

Mona:Later on tonight, I will be meeting with Aero and officially be resigning from his little gang. Do not tell him I’ve met with you. Soon I shall-

Carmine:No.

Mona:What? I haven’t even told you my favor in full yet!

Carmine:My opinion of you is rock bottom. Even so, you’re no idiot and do think of other’s feelings. It’s the leash Aero has on you that stops me from arresting you repeatedly and you know that. So…leaving the gang only means one thing. You’re planning on doing something completely out of line. You don’t want them associated and you don’t care about going to jail.

Mona:Heh, wow. There really is brain behind those annoying scarlet eyes. Too bad it only works for justice and is only half right. I don’t plan on rotting in a cell. If- When I pull this off, it’ll mean you’ll never see me again.

The air between them fell silent, Carmine’s curiosity piqued. Though she wasn’t sure that was good, given how Mona casually walked closer with her hands behind her head and stopped the the building’s ledge to look at the kingdom.

Mona:May favor is simple. I am going to do something horrible, and I need you to look the other way.

Carmine:I think you forgot how I spend my days making sure horrible things don’t happen. Plus I’d never make a promise with something that vague.

Mona:Ugh, I can see why you don’t have friends. Listen, I’m not telling you to not do your job. As a matter of fact, do all you can to save the innocent, but only that. Don’t come after me. Keep your pretty little eyes on the situation at hand and be the good little girl people think you are. Although we both know despite my “goodie little two shoes” remark, you’re more than willing to raise a little hell for the sake of humanity. It’s the only fun thing about you.

Carmine:You’re doing a really bad job of asking for favors.

Mona:Come now. Don’t pretend you don’t love the idea of never dealing with me again. You hate me as much as I hate you.

Carmine:I couldn’t care less about you honestly. You’re a broken person who’s no good for the people around her. Not that it’s your fault for being so…you. In fact if there’s anything we can agree on it’s how your mother should be put through hell and back.

Mona:Heh, fair enough. You saying we might’ve actually enjoyed each other’s company?

Carmine:Hell if know. As it stands, you’re like an ill dog in the Pound. Nobody can afford to take you in and nobody will be surprised when you suddenly aren’t around anymore.

Mona:Won’t stop a certain someone for being sad though. Perhaps I haven’t been phrasing this correctly. Don’t count this a favor to me. Consider it as doing Aero one. Like you said, nobody can afford to take me in and I personally never planned on turning my life around. Shouldn’t you be doing everything possible to cut me out of his life as quickly as possible?

Carmine:….

Mona:Look, I can’t promise you completely safety of civilians, but this kingdom has no shortage of heroes and huntsmen. All I can tell you is this, be near the slums at eight at night. Not s minute before, understand? I’m sure between you, your mother, father, and Aero’s parents, no innocent people will die. After all, I’m not trying to hurt innocent people.

Carmine:But you are trying to hurt someone?

Mona:Duh. It’s not like you don’t do the same to further your agenda. Let me fulfill mine and the rest is history.

Carmine:…I refuse to promise I will turn a blind eye. However, I won’t tell Aero. And maybe…I’ll drag my feet a little.

Mona:Hahaha! Works for me I guess. You really are stubborn, but not unreasonable. You have an annoying way of knowing the best course, even when it isn’t popular. I guess that’s the one thing I admire about you.

Mona took off the scarf that symbolized her affiliation to the gang. Honestly she was never the biggest fan of it considering it was inspired by the very girl who stood before her. It’s only fitting it should return to her.

Carmine stared with unblinking eyes at Mona’s gesture. Strange. The notorious bandit held a twinge of pain in her eyes. Maybe…no, Carmine didn’t allow herself to even fantasize about a different outcome between them. In the end, some things are simply beyond anyone’s control. Carmine took the thin, blue silk scarf into her custody; at the very least she could treat this request seriously no matter her final decision when it comes to pass. Carmine tore the scarf in half from the middle and wrapped a portion around Mona’s arm.

Mona:What are you doing?

Carmine:For better or for worse, you were once apart of something bigger. I see no reason for you to leave empty handed. I’ll find a use for the other half eventually.

Mona:Whatever you say. Welp, see ya never, probably. At least not in this scorching dump. Remember, this talk never happened. Oh, one final thing, a token of wisdom from your elder. You might want to consider working on your people skills.

Carmine:…..

And just like that, the notorious gem of the slums fell back into the city lights. Carmine couldn’t even see the woman anymore. She’d be lying if she said she felt unbothered. No good comes from a person as chaotic as Mona getting serious. All Carmine was certain of was despite her own gifts, this was the last time she’d see that messy blue hair in Vacou ever again.

[alondradina]

Febuwhump day 7! Prompt today was alternate timeline self, but it didn't fit what I wanted to write, so I'm using the alternate prompt emergency surgery instead.

Fandom: Dragon Age, Dragon Age: The Veilguard

Pairing: Rook/Solas, Solrook, Dreadrook

Rating: T

“And you can't be trusted at all. You've proven time and again that you deserve to be known as the god of betrayal and lies.”

“And yet,” Solas drawls, taking a step towards the edge of the cliff, “you have trusted me. Every time I wronged you, you came back just as eager to please.”

“Not this time.”

His smile isn't friendly. “We shall see.”

Solas stands with his back to her. They're in a familiar setting, but one Rook hasn't seen since his first betrayal. The sharp divide between their platforms. The height advantage he gives himself. The light is dimmer here than in the rest of the regret prison, but illuminates them just enough to be noticeable. And he had wanted to be noticed.

After the first couple dreams — when he seemed to open up to her, seemed earnest in his desire to help — she'd thought that maybe things would even out. The distance between them would close. He would literally and metaphorically lower himself to her level.

It was just another manipulation, she sees now. He had wanted her to seek his approval. The regret prison could be anything it wanted, and he had the power and knowledge to shape it however he wished, yet he'd chosen this setting. He'd chosen to set them apart. He'd chosen when to enter her dreams and when to leave.

She lets the resentment fester for a few breaths, then inhales one last time before speaking. “What are you doing, Solas?”

Turning slowly to face her, the confusion on his face makes her chuckle. His expression shifts back to the cold, arrogant visage he'd shown her in their first meetings. “How did you get here?”

“When did you wake up?” She counters. Another flicker of resentment when he tilts his head to look even further down at her.

“What makes you think we're awake?”

A brief flash of the ground vanishing all around, an unfriendly presence herding her somewhere she doesn't want to go. She shakes her head. “I never know if I'm sleeping or not around here, but you have been unresponsive for… quite a while. You're awake somehow or another now.”

He frowns and turns to look where he'd originally been facing. The frown remains when he turns back. “Have you been concerned, Rook?”

“Pretty sure the Veil only stays up if you're alive,” she points out casually. He doesn't react, so she continues. “I won't get stuck here for nothing.”

“You almost killed me.”

“I wasn't exactly in the best condition to be trusted with a knife,” she shrugs.

“You could never be trusted to handle the dagger,” he sneers.

Hands on her hips, she scowls up at him. “And you can't be trusted at all. You've proven time and again that you deserve to be known as the god of betrayal and lies.”

“And yet,” he drawls, taking a step towards the edge of the cliff, “you have trusted me. Every time I wronged you, you came back just as eager to please.”

“Not this time.”

His smile isn't friendly. “We shall see.”

“You never answered my question.”

He hums noncommittally, already turning away again.

“Hey!”

He keeps walking.

Picking up a stone, she throws it at him. To her surprise it actually connects. She swallows the urge to apologize when he scowls. “Answer me!”

“We are no longer allies, Rook. Don't make me your enemy.”

“We've been enemies the whole time!” She yells. “Anything else has just been a trick!”

He bows sarcastically. “I see you have me figured out.”

Fighting the urge to throw another rock, she almost misses the grimace of pain he tries to conceal. “You're up to something, I know it.”

“You know nothing,” he counters, taking a step back. He raises his hand towards her, but pauses when she flinches. “Worry not. I will not petrify you.”

“I can't trust anything you say, Solas. All you do is lie.”

Another grimace interrupts whatever response he’d planned. He takes a deep breath before trying again. “I believe our conversation is done.”

“We're not done yet, actually, because you haven't told me what you're doing.”

He waves a dismissive hand and she wakes with a jolt.

The bed is as comfortable as it could be, but Rook leaps from it so hastily that the blanket wraps around a leg and trips her. Sprawled facedown on the ground, one leg still wrapped in blankets, she screams in frustration and flails the limb until it pulls free.

“Varric?” She calls uneasily. There is something wrong, she can tell, but she doesn't know what. As per usual, there is no response.

Sighing, she stands and brushes her front off. The presence that had come after her before was gone, but there was something else in the air. Something charged, anxious, waiting.

“What's going on?” She mutters. There's nothing in here that she can see, so she steps out into the open.

There is an invitingly wide, sturdy path leading straight to the ritual site. Rook has been here long enough to be suspicious. The prison has never been helpful to her, and the last time she'd trusted it she was led here.

Looking for another path, a flash of bright light and a boom like thunder forces her to focus back on the ritual site. Something is happening there.

“This better not be a trap,” she mutters, definitely not remembering Solas' smug face when he'd pointed out how trusting she'd been.

The path acts like a path should, however, and she's able to quickly traverse it to the other side. There she slows, searching for the disturbance. Reflexively glancing at where she'd left Solas, she is alarmed to find him gone and a puddle of blood where he'd lain.

Rook follows the trail of blood around the side of the altar and spots Solas crouched over. “For the last time, Solas, what are you doing?”

His lips are a grim line in his pale face. “You should not be here.”

“And you obviously shouldn't be doing whatever you're doing,” she responds, stepping closer.

The trail of blood ends in a puddle underneath him. Both hands are bloody, and there are bloody markings on the altar behind him.

“I might not be able to read,” she says as she approaches him, “but I do have some experience with blood magic. Whatever you're trying to do, you better cut it out.”

“Or what?” He taunts. “Will you stab me again?”

“Only if you ask very nicely.”

Solas chuckles, then grimaces. His hands cover his reopened wound in an attempt to staunch the flow of blood. “It would be a mercy.”

“No, that's you being a coward again,” she chides, daring to step within reach. “You don't know what to do now that you've lost, so you're being stupid.”

“You are so certain you know me,” he sighs.

“I know enough.”

He falls backwards into the altar. Eyes fluttering, his hands slide off his wound. “Please.”

“Solas!” She drops to her knees next to him and pulls the remnants of his shirt away.

His wound had been healing the same as hers, but now the scabs are cracked open and the edges raw. It looks like he'd dug it open with his fingers.

“What have you done to yourself?” she asks, pulling her shirt off to use as a temporary bandage. Leaving him laying on his back, she dashes over to her pack on the other side of the altar. He's awake and pushing her shirt off his wound when she returns.

Stifling the urge to kick him, Rook drops her pack within reach but away from the alarmingly large blood puddle. “Knock it off, you idiot. I'm not letting you die.”

His bleary glare would be more effective if his eyes could focus. “Leave me be.”

“You can fuck right off,” she replies with false cheer. “You're not leaving me alone in here.”

He sucks in a pained breath when she applies pressure to his wound. Clapping his hands back on the bandage to hold it in place, Rook opens her pack and rummages around to see what she had to work with.

The answer is more than she thought, but less than she wanted. One healing potion, one small jar of ointment, and the few bandages left after her first attempt to heal them. She needed a way to close the wound however, and didn't have anything that could do so.

The initial stab wound had been small and closed easily on its own with the help of the ointment. Now it was a ragged crater in his side, and getting the edges to close again would require more skill than she had using equipment she didn't have.

Dumping the remaining contents of the pack out, she searches through the mess and finds a sewing kit. She looks between his gaping wound and the sewing kit a few times before sighing. “If we do this the hard way, it's going to hurt. Any chance you can just do a little bit of healing on your own?”

Solas gives his head a firm shake. His eyes are closed as he bites his lower lip.

“Should have known you'd be useless,” she complains. Her hands shake as she attempts to thread the needle. It takes her several tries before she manages it, then she ties it off and carefully sets it down.

Dribbling water over his wound, Rook clears the blood enough to find the edges of the wound. She hesitates when reaching for the needle — watching Solas' strained face for a reaction — before she grudgingly picks it up and begins stitching.

The feeling of a needle passing through flesh is nothing like sewing fabric. Her stomach rebels and she has to swallow hard before returning to the task. Solas is silent, and she hopes he's unconscious.

Her fingers slip and slide through blood as she struggles to hold the edges of the wound together while stitching it closed. The stitches are uneven — sometimes too close or too far together, sometimes too close to one edge of the wound and too far away from the other — and she wishes there was someone else to do this for her.

An eternity later and the wound is closed. Rook dumps an excessive amount of ointment on it, and then glances at Solas' face. His eyes are heavy lidded, but open and seemingly lucid.

“You able to sit up a little so I can get this bandaged?”

His sigh grates on her frayed nerves, but he does lean forward a little and she props him against the altar. Wrapping the bandages around his body feels too intimate after everything they've been through.

The last time he'd been unconscious, she had been mean spirited enough to just roll his body over to wrap him up. This time her leg is pressed against his and he leans against her shoulder as her arms snake between their bodies and around his back. He resists when she tries to push him away to finish tying the bandage.

“All done,” she says firmly, disentangling her limbs and turning to pick up her scattered belongings. The blood on her hands stops her from touching anything. Searching in vain for somewhere to wash the blood off, she sighs and looks at Solas. “Can you dump some water on my hands? They're dirty.”

Nodding tiredly, he takes the canteen from her and shakily pours the contents onto the ground next to them. She scrubs the blood off as quickly as possible — the canteen has remained full the whole time she's been here, but she is afraid that this will be the time it finally runs out — before taking the canteen back from him.

She takes a sip from it before offering some to Solas. He takes a small sip and then leans back against the altar again.

“We need to get you lying down,” she says, exhaustion hitting her from nowhere.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why are you helping me?”

“I've said why a couple times, Solas,” she grumps. Gingerly grabbing him under his armpits, Rook pulls him a couple feet away to get out of the blood puddle. Then she places her balled up shirt under his head like a pillow.

Arms aching, head throbbing, emotionally exhausted, she lays down next to him. His breaths are deep and even, sounding so normal that it feels like she's sleeping next to one of her former companions. The thought brushes her mind that she should move away — that there should be more distance between them, that sleeping next to this man was incredibly dangerous — but she can't find it within herself to care at the moment.

“You'll be fine, kid. I'll keep an eye on you both,” Varric's voice says. Thus reassured, Rook slips into sleep and knows no more.

[blackjackkent]

A number of possible drabble ideas rattling around in my head for the aftermath of this post from yesterday, with Rakha's first resisting choice against the Dark Urge. First one off the pile is Lae'zel, though, bc their kinda-sorta friendship took a hit with Alfira's death and it made me sad.

-----

The girl lives. The beast sleeps. Rakha leans heavily against the wall of the grove sanctum and hisses a heavy breath between her teeth, watching Wyll and Arabella walk out into the sunlight outside. There is a strange prickling anxiety scratching at the back of her skull, but she does not know how to define it.

"Are you well?" Lae'zel's low rasp interrupts her thoughts.

"No," Rakha answers bluntly.

A pause. Lae'zel's head tips slightly to one side. "The girl lived. The matter requires no further thought. But you are... preoccupied."

Rakha's jaw works. "You need not pretend concern for my well-being," she mutters. "I heard you this morning. With the death of the bard, I have broken trust."

A frown flickers across Lae'zel's face briefly. "Chk. We travel together, regardless. We have shared battle. You think my concern is pretense?"

"Why should it not be?"

Lae'zel lets out a slow exhale. "And if it were," she says neutrally, "that would trouble you?"

Perhaps she is right to be surprised. Rakha hardly understands her own emotions, let alone expresses them for anyone else to see. "You led me from the nautiloid. You have answered my questions in plain language. You have not treated me like a fool. You understand violence. You did not fear me." A long, long pause. "And I have answered you poorly."

A pause. Lae'zel's expression is impassive, unreadable.

"The girl lived. But only just," Rakha goes on after a little while, more to herself than to the gith. "It would have been easy to kill her. A jerk of the head. The serpent's fangs. And then nothing." A pause. "I thought she would die. I could feel it stirring."

"It?"

"The... beast..." Rakha frowns. It is the first time she has tried to articulate this to anyone. "There is something within me that rips and tears. A mad animal. When it rises... there is little left of me."

Her jaw works. "That is what killed the bard. I woke to find it feeding on her corpse. But this girl..." A long, long pause. "It sought her death. I stared it down, and it slept again. It did not strike."

Silence. Lae'zel rests a hand casually against the dagger at her hip, but does not draw it.

Rakha's shoulders hunch with an air of muted embarrassment. "You told me... to attack with purpose," she mutters. "To make a choice of my kills. To spill blood with reason. I... The beast does not give me that choice. It takes."

Lae'zel quirks an eyebrow up thoughtfully. "It was not about the girl, then," she says slowly. "It was about the choice."

Yes. Even now, Lae'zel understands, better than anyone else she travels with. "I am not a monster," she says hollowly, and as she speaks the words she realizes fully, for the first time, that the possibility has frightened her. "I did not wish to kill the bard. Her death did not serve us. But I was not strong enough to stop it."

Lae'zel looks at her steadily, then gives a sharp nod. "I believe you."

Rakha relaxes slightly.

"And it was not pretense," Lae'zel goes on after a short pause. "From the moment we took the worms in our heads, we became ra'stil'i. Allies. Should you become a danger, I will slay you, as I would have you slay me. This is as it should be. But if you speak true of this... 'beast', then you showed strength this day. I do not say that lightly."

[twoidiotwriters1]

The Curse of Oenone (Leo Valdez xFem!Oc)

A/N: Are we ready for the last ten chapters of this book? Let's GOOO -Danny Words: 2,751 Series' Masterlist Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

L: Wish I Lacked Critical Thinking Skills, Y'all Seem So Happy

"Okay, guys, this isn't funny anymore..."

The seven teenagers look up when Jason enters the Mess Hall. He looks like he's wearing kid's clothing, which causes the entire crew to spit out their breakfast and laugh hysterically.

"Hey, Jason, easy with the growth spurts!" Leo says with a huge smirk on his face.

Since their quarrel four days ago, Leo has been shrinking everything out of pure pettiness. The showerheads can't be rearranged to fit people over 6 feet tall—unless you ask Leo nicely—the doorframes got smaller, and they can't do anything to stop him.

They all love Jason. They also think he's too much of a goody-two-shoes, making him the perfect target for Leo's practical jokes, and they're best friends. It's all harmless fun, really.

"Percy, dude, you gotta be tired of it too," Jason tries to reason, pulling the four-sizes-too-small shirt to cover his abdomen. "You're almost as tall as me."

Percy manages to look condescending when he replies. "Sure thing, Gulliver."

Jason frowns. "Bro, we look the—this is stupid! Here, try this on."

He takes off his shirt and the boys promptly object to it. Leo and Frank cover their girlfriends's eyes. "Man, keep it PG!" Leo complains. 

"I know what you're doing!" Jason scoffs, walking to the exit. "Knock it off or I'll hang you upside down on the topmast!"

"Good luck with that," the boy leans back on his seat, casually lighting up the tips of his fingers. "You could get burned."

Jason leaves in a terrible mood and returns with a shirt that's still tighter than it should be, but no one laughs this time, not wanting to push his buttons.

"Piper," Ara says. "You said you knew where to go next?"

"Yeah," Piper seizes her dagger and stares at it frowning. "I just realized this was Helen's. Is this yours, then, or...?"

Ara's face shows nothing but aversion. "Keep it. You were saying?"

"Right. Uh. It showed me palace ruins, full of spirits."

"Good or bad?"

"Definitely bad."

Everyone groans. "And what do you think it means?" Ara asks.

"Probably that we must go there," Frank stabs his fruit salad.

"Yeah, probably," Piper agrees. "Thing is—I don't recognize the place."

"Well, I might have a way to find it," Hazel offers. "If there are so many spirits in that place, I could ask around."

"But Nico said you don't have death-related powers?" Ara raises a brow.

"Yeah, but I can still commune with some spirits. I was dead once, remember?"

The others seem slightly tense when she says that, but Ara grins. "Alright. Annabeth?"

"I'm thinking," replies the girl, still pondering.

"And I love that about you," Ara presses. "About what?"

"I'm trying to recall what kind of place would hold so many spirits in the ancient lands, but I need more information for an educated guess. If Hazel can get it, that'd be helpful."

"Hazel, we're counting on you," Ara gets up. "Enjoy breakfast—I'll be upstairs if you need me."

Jason sits down to eat. Leo's eyes widen slightly, and he quickly follows her out. As they leave the room, Ara hears something hitting the table and Jason self-censors his swearing when his knees slam against the underside. The rest laugh again as Leo picks up his pace and pushes her forward.

"I think it's time you stop torturing Jason," she chuckles, climbing up the stairs to the upper deck.

"Not yet, I enjoy the fear in his eyes when he steps into the same room I'm in," Leo responds with his crooked grin.

"He's your best friend."

"Our friendship ended thanks to his hate speech, Frank is my best friend now."

"And Frank never made rude comments about you," Ara says sarcastically.

"I choose Nico, then."

"The same Nico that let you believe I was cheating?"

"Sunshine, we have a small crew and everyone is hella mean, I'm willing to appoint Bufford as my ride or die if you push it."

"What about me?" Ara complains. "Why am I so far down the list? I should be right after Jason!"

Leo rolls his eyes. "That's different, mi amor. I don't make out with my besties."

"You sure? The tension between you and Jason certainly leaves room for speculation..."

The boy elbows her playfully. "I'm not your best friend either," he argues. "Don't try to guilt-trip me! You have Lily and Nico—"

"Nico's not my best friend," Ara walks up to the control board and scans each monitor, her fingers moving over the Archimedes sphere with expertise.

"You keep saying that, but he's the only guy you talk to in codes. That's a very best-friend thing to do."

"We both like doing that but it doesn't mean—"

"Doll, admit it," Leo crouches beside her and pulls out his toolbox.

"My best friend will always be Michael."

"He was your crush, he doesn't count!"

"He counts! I didn't like him that way from the get-go!"

"But when you did who knew about it right off the bat? Nico and Lily."

"Jason knew about my crush on you since the start, does that make him my bestie?"

"Stop twisting my words," he gets up with a screwdriver in hand. "My point still stands, you and I can't be best friends."

"Percy and Annabeth are best friends."

"That's because they don't have other friends. It's like saying your mom is your best friend. Cute, but sad."

"Leónidas, I swear—"

"Ara!" Hazel comes up running. "I did it!" 

Ara forgets about Leo's teasing. "What?"

"I only managed to catch a few words, they were pretty frightened. I don't know if they'll be of any help, though..." Hazel catches her breath. "The suitors."

"Why Ithaca?" Piper questions while Ara shows them a map.

"That's where Odysseus's palace used to be," Annabeth explains.

"No, I know that. What I mean is, why would they gather there?"

"That's where they died," Ara responds.

Hazel and Piper both stare at her. "What?"

"Odysseus went cuckoo when he found that those men were stalking Penny—and after ten years at sea, I'd be done with men too. I've been at sea for two months and I'm ready to go full Achilles on some of them," Ara looks at Annabeth with a straight face. "That was a joke."

"But these can't be just the suitors, right?" Hazel asks confused. "There's no way Odysseus killed so many men."

"You know what I'm thinking?" Ara talks with excitement.

"No, but I can't wait to hear it," Annabeth grins.

"The suitors were power-hungry. They weren't there for Penelope, though she was a nice addition."

"They wanted to be kings," Piper raises a brow. "So you're saying..."

Ara stares at the spot on the map representing Ithaca. "Gaea probably tricked them into believing they're competing to see who'll rule after the war."

"That makes a lot of sense," Annabeth looks at her like she's grown overnight, which she did, though it's a little late to get this reaction. "But Gaea wouldn't bring them back just for that."

"Well, they aren't back exactly," Hazel reminds them. "Perhaps the prize is to get a functioning body?"

"A prize for what?" Piper questions. "What are they accomplishing by staying in Ithaca?"

All the girls share a look and Ara sighs, staring at the map with a scowl. "We should take a look."

"IROS! Is that you, you old beggar?"

Ara pushes Jason forward, he's disguised as an old man. "That's me! Iros!" He exclaims.

Ara slips into the crowd with Piper and Annabeth, dressed up as servers for the feast.

"Guess I'm late to the party. I hope you saved me some food?"

"Ungrateful old panhandler," one ghost sneers. "Should I kill him, Antinous?" 

"I'm in a good mood today. Come, Iros, join me at my table."

"I didn't expect to see you here, Iros. But I suppose even a beggar can sue for retribution. Drink. Eat."

The food is definitely not eatable for a normal human. Ara worries, it's been years since she fought ghouls, so they make her nervous. Jason doesn't seem to care about them, he's only glaring at the food. He is in many ways similar to her, but at the core, they're opposites. 

He's a cold-headed leader who thinks of every choice before taking a stance. Ara doesn't care for consequences as long as she gets closer to her goals. She's hot-headed, and an emotional fighter. It's always better to be like Jason in moments like this one.

Nonetheless, Jason surprises her by grabbing a piece of meat, biting into it, and then gulping down the suspicious liquid inside his goblet in just the same way she would've done. He miraculously survives the ordeal but turns green with dislike.

"Yum! Now tell me about this... what did you call it? Retribution? Where do I sign up?"

"Tell me, Iros, what do you have to offer? We don't need you to run messages for us like in the old days. Certainly you aren't a fighter. As I recall, Odysseus crushed your jaw and tossed you into the pigsty."

"You made me fight Odysseus. You bet money on it. Even when Odysseus took off his shirt and you saw how muscular he was... you still made me fight him. You didn't care if I lived or died!" Jason complains.

"Of course I didn't care. I still don't! But you're here, so Gaia must have had a reason to allow you back into the mortal world. Tell me, why are you worthy of a share in our spoils?"

"What spoils?"

"The entire world, my friend. The first time we met here, we were only after Odysseus's land, his money and his wife."

"Especially his wife! That Penelope was a hot little honey cake!" Shouts a random ghost.

"Eurymachus, you whining coward. You never stood a chance with Penelope. I remember you blubbering and pleading for your life with Odysseus, blaming everything on me!"

"Lot of good it did me. Odysseus shot me in the heart, just because I wanted to marry his wife!"

"At any rate... We have gathered now for a much bigger prize. Once Gaia destroys the gods, we will divide up the remnants of the mortal world!"

Annabeth and Ara share a look, that's obviously never going to happen. But why did Gaea bring all these men here? 

"What about the rest of these... guests? I count at least two hundred. Half of them are new to me."

"All of them are suitors for Gaia's favour. All have claims and grievances against the gods or their pet heroes. That scoundrel over there is Hippias, former tyrant of Athens. He got deposed and sided with the Persians to attack his own countrymen. No morals whatsoever. He'd do anything for power."

"Thank you!"

"That rogue with the turkey leg in his mouth—that's Hasdrubal of Carthage. He has a grudge to settle with Rome. And Michael Varus—"

Jason makes a weird noise with his throat. "Who?"

Ara notices the guy wearing a Camp Jupiter T-shirt. He's far away, yet she can see the tattoo on his forearm... A son of Janus. 

"He's a Roman demigod. Lost his legion's eagle in... Alaska, was it? Doesn't matter. Gaia lets him hang around. He insists he has some insight into defeating Camp Jupiter. But you, Iros, you still haven't answered my question. Why should you be welcome among us?"

This guy lost the eagle that Frank, Hazel, and Percy retrieved last June. Ara gets the sudden urge to hide Jason and rush out of the scene, but Annabeth notices their uneasiness and approaches. "More wine, my lord? Oops!"

"Gahh!" The ghoulish man squirms when Annabeth drops liquid on his clothes. "Foolish girl! Who let you back from Tartarus?"

"A Titan, my lord—May I bring you some moist towelettes? Your arrow is dripping." 

"Begone!"

Jason stabs the table suddenly, catching their attention. "Why should you welcome me? Because I'm still running messages, you stupid wretches! I've just come from the House of Hades to see what you're up to!"

"You expect me to believe Gaia sent you—a beggar—to check up on us?" Antinous scowls.

"I was among the last to leave Epirus before the Doors of Death were closed! I saw the chamber where Clytius stood guard under a domed ceiling tiled with tombstones. I walked the jewel-and-bone floors of the Necromanteion!" Jason replies dramatically.

Ara's eyes are on Michael, trying to figure out if he's a good omen sent by his father, a taunt of the fates, or simple misfortune. Maybe a mix of all.

"So, Antinous... Maybe you should explain to me why you're worthy of Gaia's favour," Jason keeps talking. "All I see is a crowd of lazy, dawdling dead folk enjoying themselves and not helping the war effort. What should I tell the Earth Mother?"

"If you come from Gaia, you must know we are here under orders. Porphyrion decreed it." Antinous takes the knife Jason placed on the table and cuts his palm to show how it reforms. "You do know Porphyrion..?"

"The giant king—green skin, forty feet tall, white eyes, hair braided with weapons. Of course I know him. He's a lot more impressive than you."

"Now, now, friend!" Eurymachus hugs Jason sideways. "I'm sure we didn't mean to question your credentials! It's just, well, if you've spoken with Porphyrion in Athens, you know why we're here. I assure you, we're doing exactly as he ordered!"

"The Acropolis," Jason's tone changes slightly. "The most ancient temples to the gods, in the middle of Athens. That's where Gaia will wake."

"Of course! And, to get there, those meddlesome demigods will have to travel by sea, eh? They know it's too dangerous to fly over land."

"Which means they'll have to pass this island," Jason continues.

"At that point, they'll have to make a choice, eh? The most direct route, would be due east from here, across the Straits of Corinth. But if they try to go that way—"

"Enough," Antinous stops him. "You have a loose tongue, Eurymachus."

"I wasn't going to tell him everything! Just about the Cyclopes armies massed on either shore. And the raging storm spirits in the air. And those vicious sea monsters Keto sent to infest the waters. And of course if the ship got as far as Delphi—"

"Idiot!" Antinous grabs him and starts to disintegrate him.

"No! Please! I-I only meant—"

Gaea put them there to be another pesky obstacle. Gods, and they believe Gaea cares about them! Must be good to be so full of yourself that you think you're necessary to the plans of a primordial being. Annabeth and Ara consider they have gotten all they could, so it's time to flee. Ara clears her throat and seizes Jason's plate.

"Sounds like everything is under control. For your sake, Antinous, I hope so. These demigods are resourceful. They closed the Doors of Death. We wouldn't want them sneaking past you, perhaps getting help from Delphi."

"No risk of that. Delphi is no longer in Apollo's control."

Ara's hand trembles and almost drops the place, but Annabeth quickly holds it. If Apollo isn't in charge of prophecies anymore, who is?

"I-I see. And if the demigods sail the long way around the Peloponnese?"

"You worry too much. That journey is never safe for demigods, and it's much too far. Besides, Victory runs rampant in Olympia. As long as that's the case, there is no way the demigods can win this war."

Jason doesn't understand that, but he nods anyway. "Very well. I will report as much to King Porphyrion. Thank you for the, er, meal."

"Wait." Varus stares at Jason intently. "You must stay."

"What's the problem, legionnaire?" Antinous frowns. "If Iros wants to leave, let him. He smells bad!"

The boy grips his sword. "I lost my cohort twice in Alaska—once in life, once in death to a Graecus named Percy Jackson. Still I have come here to answer Gaia's call. Do you know why?"

"Stubbornness?" Jason offers.

"This is a place of longing," Varus responds. "All of us are drawn here, sustained not only by Gaia's power but also by our strongest desires. Eurymachus's greed. Antinous's cruelty. Hasdrubal's hatred, Hippias's bitterness. My ambition... I would've been a good son of Olympus too," the boy glances at Ara, which sends a shiver down her spine. "And you, Iros. What has drawn you here? What does a beggar most desire? Perhaps a home?"

"I should be going," Jason says. "Messages to carry."

"My father is Janus, the god of two faces," the boy draws out his sword. "I am used to seeing through masks and deceptions. Do you know, Iros, why we are so sure the demigods will not pass our island undetected?"

Ara doesn't pull Almight out of her pocket, there are too many ghouls and ghosts surrounding Jason. "Look, are you in charge here or not?" Jason looks at Antinous. "Maybe you should muzzle your Roman."

"Ah, but this might be entertaining. Go on, Varus."

"Our desires reveal us. They show us for who we really are. Someone has come for you, Jason Grace." The crowd opens and a young woman steps into the scene. One that can only be Jason's mother.

"My dearest... You have come home." 

Next Chapter –>

Taglist.

@siriuslysirius1107 @ask-giggles1303 @asnyox-the-hoarder @im-planning-something-look @bandshirts-andbooks @coolninjapaper @thewaterlily @whenisthefall @1randomcomic @you-bloody-shank @sunflowergraves @owlalex44 @taylordaughter @typicalsolangelolover @writingmia @espressopatronum454 @slytherinnqueen @orbitingpolaris @obxstiles @ellipsisspelled @thepixiechicksh @ebony-reine-vibes

[sweetwhispersofchaos]

Eject Chapter 2

Story Summary: Ejecting from your plane in the face of danger? Expected. Forbidden love amongst pilots? Not so much. Will they bond or will this break them for good? Chapter Summary: A funeral, a beach trip, and tough conversation

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Natasha "Phoenix" Trace All the Daggers, Mav x Penny, Amelia, OC's

Warnings: Language. Assault (not by a major character). Injury. Eventual smut. Alcohol consumption. Smoking. Discussions of mental health. (It's a rollercoaster. You've been warned!) Chapter Word Count: 4509 Eject Masterlist

I do not own anything except the original characters!

The funeral had been full of pomp and circumstance. As it should. Rooster had never seen Maverick so distraught and wondered if this even came close to his emotions when his own father had died in his arms. He figured not but decided to stop that train of thought before he could feel much more remorse for the guy. If there was one thing to be said about Rooster, he knew how to hold on tight to a grudge and mean it. Rooster stood next to Phoenix through the whole ceremony. She said nothing as she fell in line next to him, her gaze never leaving the casket in front of them. He glanced down at her, but she never reciprocated. At least not while he was looking. Her stoic face was always mesmerizing to Rooster. So calm, cool, and collected. She gave nothing away. Ever.

After the service was over, Rooster turned to speak to Phoenix, but she had already turned away from him, discussing something with Bob as they walked in the direction of the base vans that brought them to the cemetery. The snub seemed intentional. Rooster spoke briefly to Admiral Kazanskys wife, Sara, and hugged each of the kids, including the daughter he had the childhood kiss with. Tears threatened to leave his eyes. Of course, he was sad about the Admiral, but when he looked at Sara, he saw his mother. Rooster saw Carol Bradshaw, standing over his father’s casket, weeping uncontrollably, while holding his tiny hand. It was one of the few memories from that day that he still remembered. This was eerily familiar territory for him. It was time to bolt before things got away from him. He nodded his head or shook hands with several comrades he was familiar with, then made his way towards the vans.

Just before he reached the vehicle, Hangman stepped into his path, bringing Rooster to a dead stop. The cocky pilot had a look of mirth across his face that Rooster didn’t trust.

“So. New roommate?”

Roosters stomach jumped into his throat. Somehow that was never what he expected to roll casually out of the pricks mouth. How the fuck did this douche know about Phoenix being in his room? Play it cool Rooster, this is neither the time nor the place.

“No idea what you’re talking about.” He glanced down, then back up and stepped around the other pilot to continue walking. Footsteps followed him.

“Aw now, lying isn’t your strong suit, slow ride. Were you playing doctor and patient?”

Rooster snorted and kept walking, deciding that a sure-fire way to be scrubbed from this mission was to cause a scene at the Admirals funeral. He heard Hangman’s chuckle behind him as he climbed into the van behind Payback. That guy has a lot of nerve. But how did he know? He highly doubted Bob would say anything to the asshole. Shit. Shit. SHIT. He needed to speak with Phoenix. Know where her head was on this. See if she thought damage control was needed. As much as he felt for her, he didn’t want anything to hinder her career. She was too good at what she did to throw it away on him. He decided he would wait until her hop was over that night to ask her how she wanted to proceed with this new information.

Not long after the squadron arrived back on base, a Group Me message went out from Cyclone. All hops for the afternoon and evening were scrubbed. They were to meet him in the classroom at 6AM tomorrow for an important mission briefing. The message was vague and a little jarring. Something was up.

Rooster thought about his next move. No hop means that Phoenix was available to talk. But he didn’t want to just rush over to her room and seem too anxious. He needed to approach this as smooth and nonchalant as possible, so he didn’t give away his true feelings. Maybe a trip to the beach and The Hard Deck? Public. Nothing to fear right?

Before he could pick up his phone to text her, there was a knock at his door. When he answered he was greeted by his favorite smirk. She stood leaning against the wall next to his door, arms crossed, looking up at him.

“No flight. Wanna get out of here?” she asked coolly.

“You read my mind. Beach and Hard Deck? He replied almost too enthusiastically.

“Meet you downstairs in 10.” And she turned to walk back to her room.

10 minutes later she cruised casually down the stairs, a blue Naval academy tank top and tiny black shorts hugging her gorgeous frame. She already had her aviators on her face, backpack on her back.

She pulled her shades down her nose and looked over Rooster, wearing his usual Hawaiian shirt, shorts, and sandals. “Packing light?” she asked.

“I don’t need much. Ready?”

She walked past him to the door and gave him a “roger that” as she disappeared through the glass opening. He chuckled and followed suit. Rooster walked behind her to his Bronco and placed his hand on the passenger door handle, ready to open it for her. She raised an eyebrow, looking down at his hand on the door handle then looked up at him and the cocked eyebrow softened into a slight smile. “Thanks Bradley” she said, barely louder than a whisper, her eyes never leaving his.

His stomach jumped into his throat. They almost never used first names in their line of work. He could probably count on one hand how many times he had heard a coworker use his first name, and he’s not sure he had ever used hers. He knows her name well, but they have always just been Phoenix and Rooster. He took a cool breath and decided turn-around was fair play on this one.

“Oh, are we on first name basis now, Natasha?” he threw back, slight sarcasm biting her name as it fell from his mouth.

She continued to stare into his eyes, a slight look of confusion crossing her face, then she smiled and said “There’s always a first time for everything. And, for the record, it’s just Nat.”

He melted. Standing right there, holding the door handle to his truck. What on earth was going on here? He was searching her eyes for a hint of an answer. But she just continued to smile a thin, almost smug smile while looking into his eyes. The burning in his body was overwhelming. His vision was beginning to blur.

The level of restraint to stop what was about to happen just about knocked him off his feet. He could barely breath, being that close to her. First names were intimate. Standing this close, in civilian clothing, was intimate. Everything about this seemed too intimate. Rooster could tell she sensed that too because she took a step back so he could open the door. He waited until she climbed in before closing the door and sauntering over to the driver’s side. He was feeling a little taller than normal. As he slid into his seat, he looked over to see her resting her head back, face towards the sun, eyes closed, a slight grin on her face. Oh, to know what was going through that pretty mind right now.

This was going to be an interesting afternoon. He knew he had to get to that beach as fast as legally possible and he peeled out of the parking lot, nodding his head to the radio, excitement boiling up inside of him.

*****

It was a Wednesday, so the beach was empty sans a few older people walking dogs or lounging in chairs. After he parked by the Hard Deck, he practically leapt out of the truck then made a quick jaunt around to Nat’s door. When he opened it, she slid out to stand face to face with him, mere inches away. She seemed flustered but let out a soft “Thanks, Bradley” before turning to grab her bag. There it was again, his name. It sounded so good coming from her mouth. He could feel his skin beginning to burn and it wasn’t from the sun.

They walked down the sand to the shoreline, finding a dry spot near a rock outcropping and decided that was a nice spot. Natasha set to pulling two towels from her backpack and placing them out on the sand. Rooster gave her a questioning look from behind his shades.

“I knew you wouldn’t come prepared.” She said with her usual raised eyebrow and loads of sarcasm.

Standing over her he couldn’t help but appreciate just how well she knew him. This may have been staring him in the face for longer than he realized. Had he missed the signals all along?

After the towels she pulled out a stainless-steel water bottle and a small Bluetooth speaker then she knelt onto the smaller of the two towels and began connecting her phone to the speaker. Once an indie rock song kicked on, she looked up to Bradley, who was still standing, gawking at her.

“What was the word Bagman used? Perched?” she said, sticking her tongue out and laughing.

Ouch. Semi-low blow he thought. He made a scoffing face and began to remove his Hawaiian shirt before sitting on the other towel and wrapping his arms around his bent knees. “Happy now?”

“I don’t know. You were creating shade standing there. Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything.” She said with a playful punch to his arm.

He smiled then looked out to the crashing waves. Nat placed her phone in the backpack then sat back, stretching her legs straight out and resting her weight onto her hands behind her. They sat in companionable silence for a while, watching the water and a man playing catch with his large dog.

Nat broke the silence first.

“I want to ask you about something. I know it must be something serious, but I’m hoping you’ll trust me enough to tell me.” She was staring at him now, a look of apprehension resting on her brow.

“You want to know why Mav pulled my papers to the Academy?” he thought back to the first day of flying when he went full stupid behind the stick. She met him on the tarmac after and gave him a good lashing for his behavior. When she asked why he behaved so poorly with Maverick, he let slip that the elder pilot had pulled his papers. When she pressed, he told her not to worry about it then quickly retreated. Now he figured he would have to tell her. He knew he could trust her, but it still seemed like an impossible situation to talk about. He was going to have to give her details of his past he had kept well hidden, even from her.

She sat, waiting silently for him to answer, so he continued. “You remember I told you my dad was Navy, right?”

“Yeah, something about he died when you were young right?”

“I was 3. And he wasn’t just in the Navy. He was a RIO on the F-14 Tomcats.” He paused and watched her face out of the corner of his eye. She seemed more confused now than before, so he went on.

“My dad was a RIO with Maverick. They were best friends. Like brothers. Mav was there when I was born” he took a slow breath and continued “I honestly barely knew my dad. He was gone to sea for a while then he and Mav were sent to Miramar.”

“Top Gun?”

He nodded and cleared his throat to prepare for the next part of the explanation, still staring out at the ocean. “A few days after my mom and I arrived in advance of their graduation, there was an…” he hesitated. “… incident. Mav flew through Iceman’s jetwash.”

“Admiral Kazansky?”

“Yup. And then they went into a flat spin. Mav couldn’t recover it, so they punched out. But dad hit the canopy and…” He trailed off and the silence that fell between them was deafening. “My dad died in Mavericks arms in the middle of the ocean.”

A small hand came to rest on his left bicep, and he looked down at it, staring at her tiny hand on his muscles, trying not to cry, or become angry, or both.

“Oh Bradley, I’m sorry.” She whispered. He nodded then looked back out at the ocean and continued. “Mav became a pseudo dad to me after that. And even Admiral Kazansky to an extent. But Mav, he was there for everything. Well, as much as he could be. My mom and I moved back to Texas, where she was from, so I didn’t see him often, but he called, sent letters and birthday cards, came to my baseball games and stuff when he could. I always called him when I had a big hit or a good date.” He chuckled at that thought. “Mom and I would make trips to see him occasionally as well. I remember watching him fly, meeting a bunch of the other pilots that my dad flew with, and taking tours of carriers. I fell in love with planes and knew from an early age this was what I wanted to do. Mav even set up for me to take a ride in a World War II plane when I was a teenager. It was incredible. I was head over heels in love with being in the air. Mav made sure I was taken care of in his own way. Then as I was getting ready to graduate high school, I find out just weeks before I walked across the stage that he pulled my application to the naval academy. That was it, I was left scrambling to find ways to get where I wanted to go without his help or approval and without so much as a god damned explanation. My mom was even dismissive of it. I think secretly she didn’t want me to fly, so she was ok with a regular university. Until Mav showed up here, I hadn’t spoken to him since the day I received my commission. He called but it was a very short conversation. I think my mom kept sending him updates on me and shit. God love that woman she couldn’t understand why I didn’t just do something else. She just didn’t get it.”

He stopped talking, reeling from his word vomit, and realized her hand was not only still resting on his arm, but her thumb was now rubbing small circles across his skin. He was too exhausted from the emotional roller coaster he just spewed from his mouth to even worry about her show of affection.

“How come you never told me all of this before?” she asked

He wondered if she would ask that. He contemplated his next response, treading carefully. “After my mom died, I didn’t really talk to anyone much. Kept my head down at school, kept quiet at training, I just wasn’t in the talking mood.” He paused, glancing over at her. She was obviously waiting for more. “Especially after I joined the Navy. I didn’t want any of this standing in the way of my progress. The less people knew, the better. I even asked the Admiral to keep it quiet. He agreed he would do the best he could.”

“So you don’t trust me?” she removed her hand from his arm, a small look of disappointment crossing her face.

“It wasn’t about trust. It was about survival.” And not getting too close, he thought.

They sat again in silence then she spoke, going back to the original point of the conversation.

“So, Maverick never told you why?”

“When I asked, he just said it was in my best interest but wouldn’t give me anything else to fucking go on.”

Her hand slipped away from his arm as she rolled up onto her knees, angling her body to face him. She began speaking carefully “So, um, is that why you tend to be hesitant behind the stick. Your dad?”

He only nodded. He knew he was scared. Did he love to fly? HELL YES. But it scared the shit out of him. Everything in the sky reminded him of how fast he could meet the same fate as his father. Being in the plane meant being closest to his dad. But often, flying with that ghost in his cockpit meant flying distracted and fearful.

“Why not try talking to him again? This mission is too serious to be dicking around up there with that big of a chip on your shoulder. I told you I’m going, and I want you to go too. But this has got to stop.” She was firm with her statements. He knew she was right, but he wasn’t going to let go of it that easy. He just looked back to the sea and chose to refrain from response. Now or never, time to change the subject.

“There’s something we need to talk about.” He said, as he peered over the top of his aviators at her. “It seems you were spotted leaving my room a couple days ago.” He watched her waiting for her cool exterior to switch to panic, but it didn’t.

“Hangman. He’s such a prick. You know he’s just going to mess with you about it to get into your head, right?”

“Wait. You knew?” he exclaimed as he pulled his shades off to look at her directly.

She took hers off in a mocking manner to stare him in the eye then sarcastically said “Yes. I saw him and walked right by him as he started to say what I’m sure would have been something of the utmost assholery. But I guess the slamming of my door stopped him.”

Well that wasn’t what he was expecting at all.

“So, you’re not concerned about this?” he asked.

“Why would I be? He’s an idiot and nothing happened. Frankly Hangman’s probably jealous. He’s always been a little irritated that I wouldn’t reciprocate his flirtatious advances back in flight school.” Shock overtook Bradley’s face. “Wait, I’m sorry. What did you just say.”

“You heard me, and I am NOT repeating it. It’s vile. Please don’t regret my telling you.” She smirked and he let out a chuckle as he placed his aviators back on his face. He stood and held his hand out to her.

“Come on, let's go for a walk.”

She replaced her own glasses and stood then she froze. She slowly looked down at their joined hands. Bradley looked down, then with a sheepish grin and some stuttering, removed his hand from hers and held it out as an invitation to walk. They walked past the first set of rocks and continued down the quiet beach.

They walked in and out of the surf in companionable silence for a while. Bradley didn’t know what she was thinking but he was struggling between just blurting out his feelings or ignoring the tension all together until he might explode. They couldn’t afford for things to go sour between them. It was literally a matter of life and death. They had to trust each other in the sky. A relationship could ruin that. Discussion of a relationship could ruin that. They had to talk about this, but it had to be done in a very diplomatic manner. He needed to choose his words very carefully.

Bradley stopped near a second rock outcropping, finding a flat bolder and having a seat on it, with his feet and lower legs resting in the moving surf. He looked at Nat, patted the spot on the smooth surface next to him, and watched her as she came to a seat next to him, her own feet moving around in the water aimlessly.

Deep breaths, Rooster. You can handle this.

“I think we need to talk. But I don’t want things to be weird.”

She chuckled a little then nudged into him with her shoulder playfully. “Aw, are we going to have the talk” she teased.

He didn’t laugh though. And the smile on her face faded slightly as she stared at him.

“Look, I know it seems like something is happening here.” She started. “But I don’t know what that could be in the world we live in and frankly, this mission is too important for anything else to distract us. We just” she paused, inhaling, and exhaling slowly “we just can’t afford to let some attraction, probably just a lust filled attraction based on the fact we haven’t seen each other in so long, get in the way of the danger we face. What happened the other day. We had just faced a difficult situation. It was scary for both of us. I was on good medication and needed some help. Something like that makes people do weird things. But I don’t think we need to worry about it. We have enough to focus on right now. No need to complicate things.” Her words rushed out one right after the other, as if she was trying to convince herself that what she was saying was the full truth.

He couldn’t help but feel disappointed. He knew she was right. Always the voice of reason. It was one of the many things he loved about her. He did not want to be the reason her career was derailed. It hurt that she thought his feelings weren’t real though. That the attraction was just a matter of convenience versus something real.

Bradley decided that was all the discussion that needed to happen. It was all out in the open and obviously that was as far as she wanted things to go. He stood up in the surf, walking around her legs in the water, back up onto the sand and said over his shoulder towards her “I could use a drink. How about you?” and then he made back towards the direction of the Hard Deck as she followed suit.

He placed his hands in his pockets as he walked, and she remained a couple of paces behind him. The tension between them had gone from something flirtatious to something gloomier. He wasn’t sure about her, but he had a small wound on his heart that he now had to hide, for the sake of their jobs and the mission ahead.

*****

After retrieving their items from the beach, they walked to the Bronco to deposit the bag and then made their way into the bar. It was almost empty sans a few older patrons wearing veteran ball caps and swapping war stories over beer. Nat made straight for Penny at the bar, sliding up onto a stool and placing an order for two bottles of domestic. Rooster needed to drown his sorrows in his favorite past time, music. He made his way over to the old piano near some windows and sat down. He began tinkling on the keys, playing nothing in particular.

A bottle of beer appeared on the back of the piano, and he looked up at Nat while still plunking away.

“Where did you learn to play piano? I’ve never asked.” She said as she came to rest in a chair at a small table next to the instrument.

“Both of my parents played.” He said, removing his hands from the piano and taking a large swig of his drink. As he sat the frosty mug back down, he continued explaining. “My mom put me in lessons as soon as I was old enough. We played at home together all the time.” He felt so sad. The pain in his chest trying to crush him. “One of the few memories I have of my dad happened a couple of days before he passed. When my mom and I came to visit at Top Gun. I’m not sure where we were or anything, but I remember him sitting at a piano and playing his favorite song: Great Balls of Fire. And my mom sitting next to him. I played a slow version of the song at her funeral.” He trailed off, a look of sorrow on his face as he took another long draw from his glass.

“Could you play me something?”

He gave her a sad little smirk and nodded, turning back to the piano. His hands came to rest on the keys, and he sat for a moment, thinking of what to play. Then he looked down and began to play the opening refrain of “You’ve Got a Friend in Me” from the Toy Story movie. He looked up and saw she had a small grin. He looked back at the piano and began to sing.

You've got a friend in me You've got a friend in me When the road looks rough ahead And you're miles and miles from your nice warm bed You just remember what your old pal said Boy, you've got a friend in me Yeah, you've got a friend in me

He didn’t dare look up at her. He just swayed as he played, having a little fun with a fun song.

You've got a friend in me You've got a friend in me You got troubles Then I got them too There isn't anything I wouldn't do for you We stick together, we can see it through Cause you've got a friend in me You've got a friend in me

As he continued to play and sing, he felt her come to rest on the bench next to him. He slid over some and she began to sing with him. He never looked over; afraid he would slip on the music.

Some other folks might be a little bit smarter than I am Bigger and stronger too Maybe But none of them Will ever love you The way I do It's me and you, boy

And as the years go by Our friendship will never die You're gonna see it's our destiny You've got a friend in me You've got a friend in me You've got a friend in me

As he finished, his hands stilled on the keys, and he continued to look down at them. A breathy voice next to him whispered “I’m sorry. You will always have a friend in me too. But. That’s all it can be.”

Without looking up he responded, “I know.” I just wish it didn’t hurt so damn much, he thought.

After what felt like an eternity of them sitting in silence at the piano she spoke “I called an Uber. It’s here. I’ll see you in the morning, yeah?”

He nodded as she stood, placing a hand on his shoulder, then she made for the exit. As she left, the melody of “Yesterday” by the Beatles rang out across the bar and he fought the urge to let tears roll down his face.

Chapter 3 ->

[riderofblackdragons]

Day 30: Flashbacks

Ok this one is a bit late, and for that I'm sorry. I accidentally wrecked my computer, so I had to wait and borrow a computer from another family member to put this out. Rest assured, it has been done since yesterday lol. But Day 31 might also take some time bc of this

Today's is a return to An Original Mother, wherein Elijah tries to decide how much she really hates her brother. Also, another 2 of her children are revealed! I do have favourites of Elijah's children in this tbh

Enjoy!

Elijah mostly tuned out Klaus’ rant, if she was perfectly honest. Ask her what it had been about later, and despite how interested she’d looked, she could not recall anything besides the fact that Marcel had a way to track when witches in the city were doing magic.

Just another reason not to bring Lukas here, she supposed. Her son enjoyed playing with his magic, even after he’d lost his usual playmate to his uncle.

It was one of many, Elijah knew. Lukas’ grudge against Klaus, for the death of said brother, was the main one, of course. Her brother required some very powerful magic to kill, even when he was at his weakest, and whilst she had no doubt that her son would be able to gather it, channelling all the other members of their family coven, and his mother as an Original vampire, Elijah wasn’t willing to risk Lukas’ life.

No matter how much she disliked her brother at the time.

“We all swore the same vow,” She reminded Klaus, tuning back into the conversation, and the words she was actually saying. Something about Rebekah hating their brother at the moment? Elijah couldn’t honestly blame her for it.

The words felt ironic in her mouth as she said them. That vow, as Kol had once said, haunted her, more than their father had ever done. She kept her vows, and she wasn’t about to stop, but she had been willing to break it, when she’d thought it was just them, and her remaining children, left in the world.

Elijah’s brother had murdered two of her sons, and she was still there for him, all for a vow that clearly meant nothing to him. But her word was everything to her, was how she made her way in life, through honouring her deals and her bargains.

If it wasn’t more likely to kill him than Klaus, she would be quietly encouraging Lukas on his journey of vengeance. In the meanwhile, setting him up in Zurich, sending him off to university there, was the best she could do.

“I hope she stays far away,” Klaus admitted, although he acted as though he didn’t care. He took a drink from his glass of whiskey, and Elijah wondered if he thought she should’ve stayed away as well.

After all, Elijah was only here because someone was angling for Klaus, and she needed to find out if they would be a threat to the rest of their family as well. Just a baby, that neither of its parents seemed to actually want. She may have promised her protection to Hayley, but Elijah wasn’t truly expecting there to be a foetus a few months from now.

“In my desire to reclaim this town as mine, to take it back from Marcel, I have realised one massive vulnerability,” Klaus continued, unaware of Elijah’s racing thoughts. “One weakness that, if Marcel realises as well, he could exploit,”

He stepped around the table, walking over to Elijah. She felt her insides freeze, her instincts screaming at her to run, but she carefully didn’t let it show. Something had changed, some slight difference in Klaus’ body movements, it had slipped from casual conversation to a hunter stalking its prey, and it set all the instincts in Elijah’s body screaming.

“And what is it?” She asked, the curiosity getting the better of her. If she’d had a drink also, she would have sipped it, but her brother hadn’t bothered to even offer her one.

“You,”

Before Elijah could fully register what he’d said, she felt Klaus slip a hidden dagger into her chest. A gasp escaped her, her mouth forming a curse that died upon her  lips, as Elijah’s eyes flew wide in surprise. For all that she was cautious, she hadn’t expected him to dagger her again.

And for all her anger, she couldn’t deny the curl of satisfaction in her chest, hearing that she was his weakness. It was something, alright, to hear the confirmation that she was his favourite sibling, at least at the moment. It didn’t make up for how he’d daggered her, but it was something, at least.

Didn’t make her any less upset, or any more willing to forgive him for what he’d done to her and her children over the years, but it was something. Maybe, if he hadn’t involved her children, Elijah would have eventually forgiven him for everything, and continued staying by his side.

But this was the icing on the cake, and Elijah was not a fool. As soon as she was undaggered, she did not care by whom, she was leaving.

“Forgive me, my sister,” Klaus whispered, gently guiding her body to the ground. As if it would do anything, when she was glaring daggers at him with what little she had left in her. “But I know of your little meetings with Marcel, and I cannot have you revealing anything to him.

“Your love for him makes you weak, Elijah. If he had these daggers, he would do the same, to ensure you couldn’t help me. Love makes you weak. Family makes you weak. Your mercy, your forgiveness, is what makes you weak.

“If I am to reclaim New Orleans, I must do it without you.”

If she could have, Elijah would have laughed in Klaus’ face. Love made her weak? Family made her weak? He’d clearly forgotten all the work she’d done for him throughout the centuries, the ways she’d propped up his various empires, all in the name of family.

Maybe if she’d known that he would continue thinking like this, thinking that caring made them weak, she would’ve left him to rule alone, and not given her help even if he’d asked. But it was too late for regrets now, she supposed.

The darkness stole her away from him, thankfully, leaving Elijah floating in a sea of nothingness. Nothing but her thoughts, and her memories, accompanied her here, regrets and happiness wandering through in equal turns.

She hung there indefinitely, letting it all pass by. Time was always so difficult to tell, under the dagger. A century could feel like seconds, whilst a day felt like a millennium. At least when she was living, Elijah had the bonus of night and day to keep track by.

At one point, her thoughts turned to Marcel. Oh, her little Marcellus. Her adoring nephew had done so well for himself in her absence, taking over New Orleans. Turning it into a vampire sanctuary.

Elijah could still remember the day they’d gotten him – the way Klaus had strutted up to her, a waif of a boy following after him with stars in his eyes. She’d known, even then, that her brother would inevitably crush those stars out, one way or another. Elijah had hated it, but it hadn’t stopped her from knowing.

“This is Marcellus,” Klaus had introduced, proud as ever. “My new son,”

He’s stared her down then, as though daring Elijah to object to it. She hadn’t planned on it, at the time, although she did think that picking up a son at the funeral of a man that he’d killed was rather distasteful. Although, maybe raising a child of his own would be what was needed for Klaus to stop disregarding Elijah’s own? She’d hoped, anyways.

And she’d stuck around for Marcellus’ childhood, no matter her arguments with his new father. Elijah didn’t want to see Marcellus become a new Eirikur, after all, and Marcellus would actually understand what was going on. If there was one blessing from her first son’s death, Elijah knew, it was that the four-year-old hadn’t been alive long enough to truly realise that his uncle was going to kill him, and wasn’t just going to play.

Still, even though she remained on standby, just in case, Elijah had hoped that Klaus would do the majority of the raising of Marcellus. It was his son, after all, his choice to pick the boy up. And Elijah had still been grieving at the time – her daughter, Greta, had died 15 years beforehand, but for a vampire of their years, it was not that long before. A new child to look after was a most unwelcome gift, in her eyes.

Thankfully, it hadn’t been entirely up to her. She’d forced Klaus to be involved with Marcellus, despite his complaints of how the women of the household typically did the raising of children -honestly, Elijah would be surprised if she didn’t have to force him into the life of this biological child to be, as well.

But her son Magnus, Greta’s twin, had returned during Marcellus’ teen years, Elijah recalled fondly. Her poor boy, turned into a vampire far too young, he and Greta had clung to each other from the moment they were born, only forming completely distinct identities after Magnus had died.

And now, in the present, trapped in a prison world, all alone. If Elijah ever caught up to the ones who’d done it, well… Well. Neither of her twins would have wanted her to kill for them, she knew. Still, Elijah couldn’t help it if the culprits had died in a mysterious fire, leaving their families and loved ones behind.

She had faith that they’d catch up to her, one day. And when they did, Elijah knew that she’d use their blood to free her son, releasing him into the world once again.

Magnus had adored his little cousin when they’d met, Elijah remembered. He’d surely be happy to know how well Marcel was doing now, as king of New Orleans. It’d been one of the things she’d dreaded most, when she’d thought Marcel was dead. She loved the child, of course she did, and she’d been devastated by his loss in her own right, but the thought of her freeing her son, and knowing that his cousin had died without him knowing… It would break him.

Honestly, Magnus had been more excited by his new cousin than his mother was, Elijah had reckoned. He definitely enjoyed being around Marcellus more, but Elijah had always chalked that up to Magnus still being so young, and still operating on human schedules, as opposed to vampire ones.

As far as Elijah knew, Marcel still cared for Magnus as well, although he hadn’t mentioned him when they’d last spoke. Which was fair, she had to admit. After all, she never spoke of her son either – it was one thing to speak of her late children, that she had expected to lose, although maybe not as soon as she had, it was another to speak of her trapped child, who she still held out hope that she could get to someday.

But Marcel had definitely liked Magnus when he was younger, even if Elijah wasn’t sure on his thoughts on their family now. Magnus had been in the prison world since the late 1800’s, it wouldn’t be impossible for Marcel to think over the time he’d spent with Elijah’s son, and decide that he’d soured on the former siphon witch.

Outside her mind, Elijah suddenly felt something happen. A weight lifted off her chest… The dagger had been pulled out. And not by Klaus, she realised, as the weight fell back on but the darkness receded. The dagger was back in her body, but there was no ash on it. Nothing to keep her locked in her mind, trapped with her thoughts.

So her brother had given her away, she realised. Klaus wouldn’t have made such a novice mistake as this, but then the question remained, who did he trust enough to give his siblings to? And which of them would be dumb enough to pull the dagger from her chest?

A familiar (well, semi-familiar. A century of not talking made her not quite certain of it) voice came to her ears. Marcel. Of course, Elijah realised. They’d never fully explained what the white oak ash Klaus carried with him truly did. He’d probably assume that the dagger did all the work.

Which was partially true. The dagger slowed down the healing, made it take far longer than it otherwise would to wake up after being stabbed. But they would wake up, eventually. The white oak ash ensured that they could stay in there for centuries, unable to wake, hence why Klaus preferred it.

But the fact remained, Elijah was aware, that Klaus had given her over to Marcel after he’d daggered her. He’d given her to the person he said he was protecting her from, like he hadn’t expected her to discover that it was bullshit as soon as she’d woken up.

Sometimes Elijah despaired from her brother’s lack of forethought, honestly.

She heard someone talking to Marcel, outside of her coffin. A younger voice, female. A young girl? Elijah was about to be furious with her nephew – what was he doing with such a young girl? A minor? She barely sounded grown enough to wash her own laundry, let alone get into a relationship with him.

And then Elijah listened a little longer, and settled herself. Of course Marcel wasn’t getting strange with a teenager. From the sounds of it, he was protecting her from the coven of witches, although Elijah picked up the sounds of paternal concern in his voice.

A great-niece, then. She looked forward to meeting this girl, that Marcel had taken under his wing, and made his daughter. In her own time, however. Elijah hadn’t had a break for years, and her children weren’t in any danger at the moment – she was going to take some ‘me time’ before she threw herself back into it!

[panpuszczyk]

(art at the bottom ;))

It was a warm evening, and the wind blew softly against Gino’s coat, pulling it lightly to one side. His soles were firm on the pavement as he stood in front of the town’s notice board, glaring. Pinned to the board was a poster promoting the new king and his commissioners. “Fear no longer, as the tyrant is gone and a new age has come to the Moon Nation!” it said.

“The new age of liars and traitors,” Gino muttered to himself, and his brows furrowed.

He reached into his bag and pulled out an ink bottle. The wind grew stronger and the leaves of trees planted around the town square swayed and rustled in the background. Gino’s fingers tightened around the bottle restlessly, as he questioned the merit of his next action one last time. With a loud crash, the ink bottle shattered against the notice board, the ink spilling all over the poster. Gino took a step back with a smile on his face, proud of his work, when suddenly from behind him he heard:

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?! Stop right now!”

At once he spun around to see a guard patrol passing through, and Kaven Roquennett – one of the king’s commissioners – among them.

“Shit.”

Immediately, he started running. At this time of day, there weren’t many crowds to hide among, nor shops open to duck into, so he sprung into a tight alley, pressing his back against the brick wall, hoping the shadows would be enough to cover him. And so it seemed, as five guards ran past the alley, their step loud and brisk on the tiled stone.

Gino scoffed at the guards’ inadequacy and grinned before he started walking leisurely down the alley. And then he felt a hand on his shoulder, gripping it firmly, and a cold blade at his throat.

“Hello, Gino,” the voice coming from behind was low and, despite the casual words, authoritative.

“Fuck you,” Gino snapped back, knowing exactly who stood behind him.

Kaven Roquennett chuckled briefly.

“The foul mouth really isn’t helping your case.”

“I did nothing.”

“You vandalised public property.”

“I was expressing my inner thoughts and beliefs. That’s not a crime, yes? Then I’m innocent.”

“You know well you can’t bullshit your way out of this one.”

Kaven loosened his grip and let Gino turn around to face him. Gino’s eyes narrowed.

“So, it appears you despise the new king and the whole order of commissioners. Is it really so bad that we protect the people and keep the peace? Would you rather the tyrant return to the throne?” said Kaven. Gino took a step back, outraged at his words.

“You dare look me in the eye and say that you protect the people and keep the peace? I know what you’ve done. I know who you are. Be really fucking careful, or my tongue might just slip, and more people might find out,” he said, and spit at the ground right in front of the commissioner.

Kaven’s expression, earlier relatively peaceful, became gravely serious.

“I would advise against it,” the tip of his dagger got dangerously close to Gino’s neck.

“Let me go,” Gino’s tone was threatening, accompanied by the revulsion painted on his face.

Kaven let go and lowered his dagger. Gino took a couple of steps backwards, keeping eye contact with him before he turned around and started making his way up the back wall of the alley. Kaven watched as Gino’s silhouette disappeared behind the corner of a roof. He stood there a while longer, thinking. Then he retreated into the warm evening light.

[zerolostwalks]

The Greater PolyPhantoms Polycule + they all work in the mall AU

Ooooh I think this one would be fun as an outsider POV.

-So we'll start with Nick (it was him or Caleb and NIck has more of an everyman persona) gets a job working at one of these Auntie Anne's Pretzel stands. It isn't quite part of the food court, it isn't quite part of the mall, just it's own thing standing in the entryway/barrier between the two.

-Kayla his coworker likes to fill him on the gossip around the mall. All her gossip seems to focus on music, complaining about various managers, etc.

-So because of Kayla's gossiping and because sometiimes it's slow, Nick takes up people watching. And he very quickly picks up on a few things he finds odd. . .partly because he would swear they'd be gossip fodder anywhere else but Kayla's said nothing.

-Over time he notices various member of the GPP hanging out, at first he thinks they are just one big friend group. But then the romantic touches and kisses and meet ups get hard to ignore.

-NIck is trying to wrap his head around it. He doesn't want to speculate, and he doesn't want to pry but he's also not sure to what level every knows. Or if there is drama boiling under the surface that's gonna blow up

-Eventually he does learn they're all one big polycule but not before going through the longest most awkward game of stay polite and don't be intrusive while trying to snoop around and satiate his own curiosity.

---The various places they work:

----Luke doesn't work at the mall, he's just always there bothering one of them or hanging out on various surfaces doing his own thing: ie writing music.

----Julie and Flynn work at a shoe store, they love it for the discount. Everything else they could do without.

----Carrie works at Sephora or Ulta or one of those makeup counter places. Nick is terrified the first time Carrie rests her customer service persona.

----Willie works at something like Hot Topic or Box Lunch (maybe even Spencer's)

----Reggie works at Build a Bear, the hardest store for NIck to casually randomly walk into. Which is frustrating because Reggie is one of the ones that confuses him the most.

-----Alex is a fellow food court worker, glares daggers at the chik-fil-a place. Kayla often goes to hang out with Alex or drags Alex to hang out with her and Nick. Alex both whares way too much and yet not enough to help Nick piece anything together,