#matter of fact i almost choked on it just a few minutes ago

[taegimood]

— my girl (c.yj) ♡

pairing: choi yeonjun x fem!reader genre: friends to lovers, non-idol au, smut, fluff rating: nsfw, mdni wc: 6.1k warnings: unprotected sex, pwp (6k but most of it is smut tbh lol), softdom!yeonjun, inexperienced!reader, dry humping, oral + fingering (f receiving), squirting, petnames (baby, princess, doll, good girl, pretty girl), daddy kink (yeonjun refers to himself as daddy), spanking, creampie, multiple orgasms, light choking but not (he doesn’t squeeze), one instance of spitting, it’s established that jun is older than reader so OPPA IS USED AS AN HONORIFIC and idc if people hate it lol as a korean speaker i’m tired of westernizing shit

a/n - pls picture temptation era hair yeonjun 😵‍💫 this is inspired by a dream i had.. dreamt every part in his room up until the actual penetration 😮‍💨 cockblocked by my own brain

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yeonjun’s sheets are soft as you sit observing his bedroom, taking note of all the little details that his strong personality shines through, the first time you’ve seen the other side of his door — though how you even got to this point in the first place is still something you’re going over and over in your head as you wait for him to come back.

his soft smile is met with your nervous one as he enters the room with two water bottles in hand, shutting the door quietly behind him — your eyes follow his lithe fingers as he turns the lock — and you watch as he places the drinks on his nightstand before turning to you.

the air suddenly feels much warmer when he sits down on the bed beside you, so close that you’re almost touching, and that fond look on his face only serves to heighten your nerves as you remember that he knows what he’s doing, and you don’t.

well… sort of.

everything happened only a few hours before.

your best friend kai had invited you to hang out with him and his roommates, a chaotic group of guys who you’ve grown to call your friends as well; even yeonjun, who you may or may not have developed the hugest crush on ever from the minute that you’d first met him.

it’d been a few months of back-and-forth, sometimes convinced that it must be mutual and other times doubting your judgement completely — has he always been this flirty, or is it your imagination when his eyes linger just a little too long? — and it was on this fateful day at their apartment when it all fell apart.

(or should you say, all came together).

everyone knows to watch out once beomgyu’s got a couple of drinks in him, so it was only a matter of time before your unlucky day came when he’d decide that you would be his glorious first victim of the afternoon; and that was exactly where you found yourself as he took it upon himself to announce to everyone in the room that you and yeonjun needed to admit you wanna fuck each other already, or else he’d “just have to do something about it himself” (whatever that meant).

to say you wanted to crawl into a ditch and die would be the biggest understatement of the century.

your wide eyes were pinned to the floor as the room erupted into multiple reactions; soobin groaning with a smack upside beomgyu’s head as he scolded the younger not to say stuff like that, taehyun’s “damn,” as he knocked back his beer to cover a laugh, kai burying his head into his hands with a shriek — he swore he didn’t mean to spill your secret to beomgyu a few weeks ago, it just slipped out — and of course, the culprit in the center laughing his ass off unphased.

the only one who had yet to say anything was…

you steeled yourself and glanced up, meeting yeonjun’s eyes that were already watching you from across the living room.

your own widened marginally.

he didn’t look disgusted. he didn’t look put off. in fact, he looked…..

your breath caught. there was a small upturn to his lips, a confirmation, the hint of a smile that solidified as he quirked a brow as if in question. as if he was asking you,

“well? what should we do about it then?”

and everything changed from there.

~

it hadn’t taken long for beomgyu’s quick-moving attention span to be directed elsewhere thanks to some faithful effort on hyuka’s part, the others following suit to spare you from the spotlight — and it was only about an hour later when you found yourself alone in the kitchen for a breather, the sounds of your friend’s quarreling and laughter slightly less eardrum-shattering now from where you stood leaning against the sink.

a few minutes passed before the sound of someone else slipping into the room grabbed your attention.

your peace quickly morphed into apprehension.

“hi,” yeonjun whispered, a small smile on his face that read somewhere between gentle and amused.

his hands were in his pockets as he came to lean casually against the counter opposite you, head tilted slightly to the side as his eyes trailed over your expression, and you cursed your mouth for going dry at the sight of him.

his simple black tank top and sweatpants combo had you fighting to keep your eyes on his face — his face, pretty and framed so nicely by silky black hair that was grown out quite a bit longer than usual these days, and you wanted nothing more than to run your fingers through it as your thighs rubbed together subconsciously.

“…hi,” you whispered back.

he breathed out a small laugh.

“i wanted to talk to you, but i didn’t want the others to hear.. figured this was a good opportunity when i saw you get up.”

“r-right..”

why am i so awkward? what the fuck? oh god wait why is he coming closer-

your hands gripped the counter behind you as yeonjun stepped forward. his voice was low, quiet, meant only for you as he stood in front of you with a look on his face that had you melting in more ways than one.

“listen... i know that we’ve never talked about this thing between us. i didn’t wanna scare you off by being too forward, but now that beomgyu ran his mouth about it…”

with a feather-light touch, yeonjun reached up and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear.

“well, i’m not gonna deny what he said, and i’m pretty sure that i’m right when i say.. i think you want me the same way that i want you.”

you felt heat running down your entire body like a zap of electricity.

your fried brain didn’t even have the chance to fully process before you heard beomgyu shout from the living room, “hey, what’s taking so long?!” and the scent of yeonjun’s cologne was like a drug as he leaned in and whispered in your ear,

“if you feel ready to see where this goes.. stay here with me when they go out.”

and just like that he was gone, random assortment of snacks in hand to avoid suspicion as he called back to beomgyu, “i’m coming, just couldn’t decide what to eat!”

and you slumped against the counter with legs like jelly.

~

you received a chorus of groans and boos when you told the guys you were gonna go home instead of joining them elsewhere for dinner and drinks, earning brief suspicion only from taehyun as he eyed you questioningly for a moment — their focus primarily resting on yeonjun’s uncharacteristic opt-out that he’d blamed on a sudden migraine.

you felt ridiculous as you even headed down the elevator with them to the street outside, going out of your way to be believable, rounding the corner towards the subway station until they were well out of sight in the opposite direction before heading back up towards the apartment.

you’d’ve been lying if you said that you didn’t consider leaving yourself; your jittery nerves and quick-beating heart nearly convincing you, until you remembered the look in yeonjun’s eyes and the wetness between your legs returned.

yeonjun, choi yeonjun, one of the most popular and charismatic guys that you know — wants you.

and now here you are on his bed.

when you think about it, in your eyes yeonjun is a lot of things that you’re not; the way he just naturally draws people in, the way he carries himself, always making friends so easily; the fact that he’s genuinely cool, somehow good at everything he does and always looks hot doing it; he’s older than you — not by much, but still — and the number one thing on your mind right now:

he’s experienced.

now you’re no virgin, but your measly 1 past boyfriend is nothing in comparison to the fact that yeonjun’s ability to please a woman is a very well-checked box on his long list of skills (if beomgyu is correct about anything he’s blabbed about, at least. which today so far he seems to be).

and now, as he sits here so close to you with that same look on his face as before, that gentle smile and amused little twinkle in his eyes — well, you know right then that you’re a goner.

“hi,” he whispers, just like he did in the kitchen earlier, and you whisper it back with a shy smile.

this is the first time you’ve ever truly been alone with him.

he looks at you for a few moments, and you wonder if this is what amoebas feel like under a microscope until he places his hand on the bed beside you and rests his weight on it, by default leaning in even closer than before.

“i like you.” he says simply.

in panic mode, you resort to sarcasm - “y-yeah-“ you clear your throat - “um, yeah, i think we established that.”

his laugh sends tingles through you as a real smile not stricken with awkwardness finally blooms on your face, the ice slowly melting for you as you start to remember that right, okay, he’s a friend and not some unreachable deity (for the most part, at least).

“i.. like you too,” you respond sheepishly, and you bite your lip at the underlying shift in his tone as he keeps his eyes locked on yours and says,

“i know.”

the mood has suddenly deepened into something else.

his hand comes up to your cheek, thumb ghosting over your bottom lip as he murmurs, “is this okay?” and you don’t know when his face got so close to yours but your eyes are already threatening to flutter shut as you hum in response, lidded gaze glued to his full, pretty lips that you want so desperately all over your body.

“words, baby.” his voice is a whisper, breath warm against your lips, his own so close now that you can almost feel them —

“y-yes.”

and just like that, choi yeonjun is kissing you.

whatever you thought a real kiss was supposed to feel like, whatever kisses you had felt with your ex —

none of it compared to this.

you feel his smile when you quietly moan, his lips even softer than you had imagined, moving against yours slowly, deliberately, expertly, the hand that had been on your cheek sliding gently to the back of your neck as he deepens the kiss.

his tongue is warm and soft as it traces along your bottom lip, and you don’t care how eager you probably seem as you let it in immediately, trying not to moan again as he slips it past your lips to caress yours; you melt as he sucks lightly on your tongue before giving a teasing, gentle bite to your bottom lip as he pulls away.

you can’t even imagine how dazed you must look — but his knowing smile tells you enough.

you can’t explain it, but in that moment you gain a hunger-fueled confidence. you want to give yeonjun everything.

fuck, you want him bad.

you’re pulling him back to you faster than you can chicken out otherwise, and the pleased noise he makes as you connect your lips again only spurs you on further to do what you’ve been so badly wanting to:

you touch him, hands sliding from his shoulders up to his soft hair, pulling at it gently as his lips travel down your jaw to suckle at the skin of your neck; you moan, freely this time, eyes sliding shut and head tilting back to give him all the access he wants as you wrap an arm around his shoulders and keep him close.

his hand slides around your waist to your lower back as he slowly guides you down to lay against his sheets, your legs instinctively widening for him as he slots his hips between them, and you groan at the bulge now resting comfortably against your clothed core.

it doesn’t take long before he gently rocks his hips forwards.

you whimper, clutching to his tank top as he continues to kiss and suckle along your neck; your legs tighten around his hips and his lips tilt into a smirk against your skin as your body responds to his like it’s what it was made for, and so he does it again, this time continuing into a steady rocking pace.

the hardness of his cock drags deliciously against your center as he rolls his hips into it again and again, slow enough so that you feel everything, but firm enough that it makes your head spin and your thighs twitch with need.

“oppa,” you whisper, pleadingly, and you don’t even know what you’re asking for but you know that you just need more.

“hm?” he hums back, lips still sucking pretty bruises into your neck,

and it’s like he can read your mind as he asks with another smirk against your skin - “want more, baby?”

you nod quickly with a weak, “mhm,” and your heart jumps as his lips move up to your ear.

“tell oppa what you want.”

the husk of his voice sends shivers straight downwards.

he pulls away just enough for you to meet his eyes and you feel like a rabbit hunted down by a fox, but in your case, you never want to escape from his grasp.

“i.. i-i want…”

you can feel the heat blooming in your cheeks, remembering once again how much you haven’t experienced, and you want to tell him exactly where you want him to put his mouth — but instead your eyes avert from his as you mumble in admission,

“i-i’ve never been… well i’ve never been eaten out before. s-so.. um..”

in your peripheral you can see yeonjun’s brows lift to his hairline in disbelief. “what?”

a finger beneath your chin gently draws your gaze back to his and the genuine bewilderment in his eyes is enough to deepen your blush as he asks, “how could that bastard have possibly survived never tasting you?”

your body buzzes with electricity as your eyes widen; there’s a hunger and determination dancing in yeonjun’s stare that you’ve never been looked at with before.

his intensity makes you shiver in anticipation and it’s like you can taste the honey dripping from his words when he says,

“let me make you feel good, baby. let me give you everything that he should’ve.”

your head spins.

you’ve never felt so desired.

the second that you say okay, yeonjun places one last dizzying kiss to your lips before he’s moving down your body, guiding you out of your shirt as he slowly maps out your skin with his lips — you breathe out a sigh at the way his large hands caress you, intentionality in every touch.

eventually he sits up on his knees, pulling back from a kiss to your navel to reach for the hem of your panties. you shiver when his fingers ghost over your hips.

“lift for me,” he instructs softly, and you do, biting your lip as he begins to slowly pull them down, eyes glued to your cunt, and you watch the way his breath hitches in his throat at the strings of wetness that cling to the fabric.

“fuck,” he whispers, practically groans,

“can’t believe no one’s ever tasted such a pretty pussy before… gonna eat you so good, baby..”

you’re going out of your mind with need, his words alone sending another gush of arousal to your heat, your hungry eyes traveling down to trace the imprint of his rock-hard cock in his sweatpants.

teasingly you ghost your foot over it as he slides your panties from your ankles, and his eyes flicker up to yours as you stare back innocently; his gaze narrows and lips quirk up into a lopsided smirk as his warm hands slide up your legs.

“getting brave, now, are we?” he taunts, stopping at your thighs as he wraps his hands around them and spreads your legs open.

slowly he lowers himself between them, all the while keeping his eyes on yours, and your hips jump at the whisper of his breath against your aching cunt when he says,

“better be careful, doll… any game you try to play, i can play it better.”

and when his fingers spread you open and his lips kiss your clit, you already know that he’s ruined you for any other man.

how could you even dream of anyone else when the tip of yeonjun’s velvety tongue slips out to trace teasingly up and down your slit, or when the pad of his finger circles so lightly around your leaking hole that you might even be imagining it?

no, there’s no way you could be imagining this, not as the warmth of his mouth caresses you as he closes his lips around your clit and gently begins to suck, your head tipping back with a shudder as you whine at the feeling.

“eyes on me, princess,” he murmurs against your cunt, and when you manage to bring your gaze back to his, the sight before you is sinful.

his foxlike eyes dark and dangerous and twinkling as he watches you through his lashes, pretty lips forming a smirk that you can only feel and not see as he whispers “good girl,” - before the next thing you know, his tongue is flattening against you as he licks a firm stripe up your pussy, big hands keeping your jerking hips in place as he begins to ravish you, sucking, licking, kissing, groaning shamelessly at the taste of you and sending vibrations straight through your quivering core as you unravel beneath his touch.

“so fucking good,” he moans, sliding a finger inside of you with ease as he begins to pump it steadily in and out, practically making out with your pussy as you whimper, hands instinctively flying to his hair — you almost pull them away when suddenly he adds another digit, the stretch causing your fingers to tighten in his dark strands as your hips instinctively grind forwards against his mouth.

you’re about to apologize when yeonjun moans even deeper than before.

“that’s it, baby,” he grunts, “use my face. want it so bad, don’t you? go ahead and chase it, cum all over daddy’s tongue.”

something unholy snaps inside of you at that.

“f-fuck-” you cry, doing exactly as he said; you can’t help it as you grind your clit down on his warm tongue over and over and over, hands tightening in his hair as his fingers work impossibly faster, and a new sensation takes over you as the dam breaks and you reach your peak;

you don’t realize what’s happening at first as you’re carried through the most mind-blowing orgasm, until you feel the unusual amount of wetness soaking his sheets and hear yeonjun groaning “fuck, fuck, that’s it, baby, that’s it -“ and he’s three fingers deep as you realize you’re squirting.

it’s as though he can read your body like a book the way he can tell when it’s suddenly too much, his pace slowing gradually until he gently slides his fingers from your sopping hole, placing a final feather-light kiss to your clit before his lips and hands move to soothe your quivering thighs.

“you did so good, baby, holy shit..” the bottom half of his face is soaked in your juices as he mouths along your skin, hands massaging and caressing whatever his lips aren’t kissing;

you’re still bewildered, and can feel the raging blush on your cheeks as you’re quick to blurt in embarrassment, “i-i’m so sorry, i didn’t mean to-“

“y/n.” yeonjun looks up. “seriously, that was so fucking hot, you have no idea.”

you can see in his eyes that he’s telling the truth.

“r-really?”

he laughs, finally sitting up; “baby, i- fuck, like, you actually have no fucking idea how sexy you are.” he pushes his hair out of his face and it’s only then that you realize how heavy he’s breathing, the bulge straining against his pants somehow a million times more prominent than it was earlier.

“y/n, i’m so turned on right now that i can hardly think straight. please-“

you meet his eyes again quickly,

“please, i need to be inside you.”

apparently today is the day that you learn just how crazy choi yeonjun makes you, because despite your still-twitching thighs and your pussy so sensitive that you’re sure a slight breeze would send it into overdrive, your body is quick to betray you at his toe-curling words when your walls clench from the emptiness and a fresh wave of arousal gushes from your soaked heat.

“if you don’t fuck me right now i’m gonna go clinically insane.”

his brows lift only for a moment before he’s laughing, swooping down to catch your lips in a kiss. “well we can’t have that, now, can we?”

he gets off the bed, your eyes hungrily tracking his every move as he peels the tank top from his torso and casts it to the ground; “fuck,” you whisper as your gaze trails down the defined ridges of his abs; “fuck,” you groan when he hooks his thumbs around the waistband of his sweatpants and pulls them down with his boxers in one go.

his cock is long and slender and flushed pink, the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen as you imagine the weight of it in your mouth.

if it were anyone else, you’d wanna slap the shit-eating grin right off of his face, but this is yeonjun, and the fact that he knows he’s all that only makes him 10x hotter.

you can’t tear your eyes away from his length as you sit up on your elbows to watch, and he enjoys it, pumping himself in his hand and smearing the pre-cum around his tip with a satisfied hum.

but as he reaches for the condoms in his desk drawer, you surprise both him and yourself when you stop him.

“no.”

he pauses, looking over his shoulder at you with quirked brows —

“want you to fuck me raw.”

his mouth goes dry. you can see the fire dancing in his eyes as he slowly straightens, keeping himself under control as he asks carefully,

“are you sure?”

you bite your lip and quickly nod. “wanna feel you,” you breathe, and that does it for yeonjun as he’s back on top of you in an instant, his lips pressing to yours in a searing kiss as you moan around his swirling tongue.

his hand is on your throat, not squeezing, just resting there as if to say you’re mine, and you whine deep in your chest when you feel the tip of his cock sliding through your slippery folds.

“gonna fuck this pretty pussy so full of my cum that it’ll be dripping out of it for days,” he rasps as he taps the head of his cock repeatedly over your clit, the lewd noise met with your whimpers as you grasp at his bicep.

“please,” you whine, “want it, please-!”

his hand slides from your neck down to squeeze your tit as he sits up and hooks one of your legs over his shoulder with his free hand.

“so good for me,” he murmurs, eyes half-lidded and lusting as he looks down at you, dragging his shaft back and forth along your slick pussy; “such a good girl, begging for daddy.”

and when he finally pushes the head of his cock past your entrance, stretching you open as he sinks inside, stars explode behind your eyes and you nearly cum again right there on the spot.

“fuuck..” he groans in a drawn-out moan, eyes sliding shut and head tipping back as your walls suck him in, mouth falling open before he catches his plush bottom lip between his teeth and looks back down at you through hazy eyes, giving another rough squeeze to your tit in his grasp.

he slides his hand down to press against your lower belly as he bottoms out, your hips twitching as you gasp, and with his other hand he grips your leg that’s slung over his shoulder as he begins to grind his hips against yours.

you can’t breathe, can’t speak, overwhelmed by how fucking good it all feels, the head of his cock massaging places inside of you that you didn’t even know existed as he rolls his hips over and over, whispering fucked-out nothings;

how tight you are, how good you feel, how he’s gonna make you forget your own name by tomorrow.

and when he starts really moving, hips separating from yours only to connect again with a lewd slap of skin on skin each time he delivers a slow, firm thrust to your cunt, holding you in place so you don’t jolt up the bed — well, you never knew that something so delicious existed, and now that you’ve had a taste, you’re already rendered insatiable.

you paw at any part of him that you can reach, hands finding purchase on his thighs as his pace picks up into a steady rhythm, your lips moaning and pleading and begging around words that you can hardly get out of your mouth.

“look at you,” yeonjun coos breathlessly, “so drunk on my cock already.. perfect pussy made just for me, hm? taking daddy so well? good baby.”

he looks as blissed out as you feel, face wracked in pleasure as he picks up the pace, his hand so large where it still presses over your lower belly that his thumb is able to reach your clit, and the added stimulation along with the pressure of his palm sends your head lolling as you twitch and tremble underneath him.

“j-jjunie..!” you whimper, and you can’t help the nickname from slipping between your lips; you’ve never called him so intimately before, never said his name so freely, but your accidental drop of honorifics seems to stir something inside of him as he groans and fucks you harder;

“say that again,” he grunts as you gasp out from the sudden increase in pace.

“jjunie,” you keen immediately, gripping the sheets, gripping his arms, gripping anything as a muttered curse leaves his lips and his thumb circles faster around your aching clit.

“love it when you say my name, fuck,” he groans, hips slamming into yours and jolting you like a ragdoll as you cry out for him, the knot in your stomach tightening so fast that you swear it’s about to snap, and when he leans forward with your leg still gripped over his shoulder and his cock pounding into you at a far deeper angle than before, fireworks fill your vision as you cum around him harder than you’ve ever came in your life.

“yes, yes, yes, fuck, that’s it, cream on my cock, baby, fuck you’re so- s-so tight, fuck- just like that, let go for me, baby, good girl-“

yeonjun’s voice sounds far away as you spasm around him, his thrusts growing sloppier as your cunt clenches him so tight that it nearly forces him out; he lowers your leg back down to the bed and slows down a little to let you catch your breath but he doesn’t stop, and your watery whimpers are like music to his ears as you clutch onto him desperately.

“t-too much, too much-!” you hiccup, tears spilling from your eyes at all the overwhelming sensations, but you don’t actually want him to stop and he knows it too — he coos at you, hand sliding up to rest on your throat again as he leans down and licks a stripe up your neck to your ear.

“you can give me one more, baby, can’t you?”

a shiver rolls down your spine at the devilish smile in his voice, sweet like honey as he catches your earlobe between his teeth.

“one more so daddy can stuff you nice and full.”

your pussy clenches. “w-want your cum,” you whimper dumbly in response, too fucked out to think of anything else, and yeonjun smiles as he leans back and runs his hands down your body until they reach your hips and squeeze.

“i know,” his thrusts are still steady as he watches you with twinkling eyes; “and i’m gonna give it to you.”

your eyes widen in protest as he suddenly slides out of you without a warning, but the words die in your throat and are replaced with a squeak of surprise when he flips you over onto your stomach instead.

“ass up for me, pretty girl.”

you obey immediately with what strength you have left in your shaky limbs, a quiet whine escaping your throat over not being able to see or touch him anymore.

his little laugh from behind you indicates that he caught it.

“don’t worry, baby,” he soothes as his hands massage over your ass, “we have all the time in the world.”

your heart doesn’t even have time to skip a beat at the promise of his words when suddenly his tongue is on your pussy, your knees nearly buckling at the heat of his mouth as he licks from your clit up to your fluttering hole, and you gasp as he spits on it before his cock enters you fully in one single thrust.

you cry out, knees buckling for real this time as he holds you up, sheets crumpled in your fists as his hips immediately pick up into a quick, dizzying pace.

“love the way you fall apart around me,” he murmurs from behind you, squeezing your ass, “love how you take me so well…”

you want to touch him so badly, want to see the pleasure pooling in his eyes; you don’t have time to respond before he lands a smack on your ass, your surprised squeak spurring him on as he does it again, drilling into your cute little hole like it was made just for him as he breathes out a moan.

from this angle he can see the way your pussy swallows him so hungrily, and his grip on your hips tightens as he drags you back and forth on his cock.

“love.. l-love your.. love this so much… w-wanna be yours…”

he almost misses your dazed mumbling over the loud sound of his hips slapping lewdly against your ass, but he makes out what you said, heart swelling in his chest and cock simultaneously twitching inside of you as he leans forward, his palm sliding up along your spine to brush the hair from your fucked-out face as he pushes your body down against the sheets, chest pressed to your back now and breath caressing your ear as he continues rocking his hips even deeper.

“you’re mine, baby, you’re mine..” he whispers between kisses along your jaw, a reassurance, your soft whimper of a response causing him to bite back a smile as he continues,

“i’ve wanted you for so long.. can’t believe i finally get to have you.” his hand slips beneath you to toy with your throbbing clit, and your ass grinds back against him as a result as you moan wantonly into his sheets.

“i’ve been yours since the.. fuck.. since the second i s-saw you..fuck, p-please don’t stop..!”

your hips are moving with his now as he works your clit faster, mustering your strength and pushing your weight back as you desperately try to fuck yourself on his cock, on his fingers, chasing the rising wave in your belly that’s threatening to break as he meets your quickening movements with his own.

“touch yourself for me, baby,” he murmurs in your ear before removing his hand and propping himself up on his forearms, allowing for a more concentrated angle as he ruts into you, your choked moan muffled by the sheets as you immediately slide one hand down to rub rapidly at your clit, your other one weakly moving to tangle your fingers with his the best that you can;

“gonna cum, gonna cum,” you whimper, drool pooling at your lips, the scent of yeonjun’s cologne and the weight of his body on yours like pure intoxication as he fucks you harder, breaths heavy and staggering in your ear as he grunts,

“cum for me, baby, need to feel it, cum all over my fucking cock-“

and when your third orgasm washes over you, you’re too weak to do anything but let it, body going limp as it wracks over you in pure bliss, the warm feeling of your clenching walls finally sending yeonjun over the edge this time as he shoots his cum into you with a loud and drawn-out moan, voice breaking as he spews filthy words and incoherent curses; he presses his hips impossibly deep against yours before stuttering into sloppy thrusts to fuck himself through the rest of his orgasm as your fluttering pussy milks his cock of every last drop.

the room grows silent save for your heavy breaths, both of your chests heaving as his forehead slumps down to rest against your back; you didn’t realize how tightly you were holding onto his hand until you carefully untangle your fingers from his.

he hisses from the sensitivity as he slides his twitching length out of you.

you look at yeonjun as he rolls off of your back and flops exhaustedly onto his side next to you, and when he meets your eyes, there’s only a passing moment of silence before you both giggle.

his smile is fond and blooming with affection as he rubs a hand up and down your back, moving to smoothe the hair from your face and gently brushing his knuckles across your cheek before resting his hand on top of yours.

“hi,” he whispers.

you giggle again.

“hi,” you whisper back.

“so.. would this be a good time to ask you to be my girlfriend?”

your heart skips a beat and you bite back a smile. “i was worried you’d just want to stick to the sex..” you admit.

yeonjun shakes his head, lips forming into an endearing pout as he laces his fingers with yours.

“nah, you’re stuck with me now, princess,” he grins. “i meant what i said… i’ve been wanting you for so long.”

an indescribable feeling flutters in your chest as you giddily turn your head to bury your face in the sheets, yeonjun laughing as he shuffles closer, rolling you over onto your back despite your giggle-ridden, poorly-executed attempts to fight him off.

you grin up at him and he grins down at you, hovering over you now with a hand on your cheek as his endeared eyes trail over each of your features as if to memorize them.

“my girl,” he whispers, tucking your hair behind your ear.

you tilt your head up to meet his lips when he leans in and kisses you softly, your hands playing with the long hair at the nape of his neck.

“i meant what i said too,” you murmur against him.

“mine since the second you saw me, huh?” yeonjun’s cocky grin is light and teasing as you scrunch your nose at him, flicking his forehead and sending him into another pout.

“yeah, yeah. whatever, pretty boy.”

instead of responding he buries his face in your neck in a flurry of kisses as you squeal in surprise, laughing as you wiggle around underneath him;“stop, that tickles!”

“gotta make up for all the lost time when i didn’t make a move,” he reasons as his kisses move to your cheeks, your nose, your lips — you’ve never seen this side of yeonjun before, so soft and gentle and sweet; the fact that it seems reserved only for you sends butterflies fluttering through your tummy.

you spend your evening like that, wrapped in each other’s arms as you talk about your relationship, talk about the feelings that led you here, talk about this and that and everything in-between;

“does this count as our first date?” you ask quizzically. he wrinkles his nose.

“no way, i’m gonna do the most romantic shit ever for that.”

you snort. “isn’t that what this is?”

but you don’t have the chance to tease him any further when the beeping sound of his apartment passcode being entered causes you both to freeze.

you were so caught up that neither of you considered the time; nor the fact that yeonjun does indeed have 4 other roommates who would in fact be coming home at some point or another.

that some point apparently being now as the rowdy chatter of your friends erupts into the foyer until you suddenly hear soobin’s tipsy mumble. “what the… what are y/n’s shoes doing here?”

you and yeonjun turn to look at each other as your friends’ voices fall silent.

the seconds pass and you almost wonder if you’re in the clear…

but of course, no peace lasts forever with beomgyu in the house.

“OH MY GOD,” he screams.

“THEY FUCKED!”

[jediavengers]

I know you’re in love with him

WARNINGS: Smut, p in v, choking, oral (f recieving), dirty talk, dom!anakin, sub!reader, unestablished relationship

WORD COUNT: 4.3k

Summary: Anakin find out a little too much when eavesdropping on Y/N and Padmé.

"I can't thank you two enough for coming here on such short notice."

The sound of birds chirping and the feeling of the golden warm sun calmed both Anakin and Y/N, which made them kindly smile to the Senator in front of them.

"Of course, Padme. Anything for a friend." Y/N pulled Padme into a embrace. Anakin stood back, letting the two reunite.

As they pulled away, Padme politely nodded to Anakin. "I'm sorry to pull you away from more pressing duties, but it seems like my life is on the line yet again."

"Don't apologize." Y/N insisted. "Besides, we'd both rather be on Naboo for a few weeks then be fighting in the war. It's exhausting."

Anakin nodded in agreement. "It's kind of like a vacation for us."

Padme smiled at them both. "I'm glad you guys have some downtime then. I doubt anyone is going to try to hurt me here, but they just wanted someone to stay with me until the threat is caught." After a few more minutes of catching up, Padme began to lead them inside.

Y/N and Anakin had been to her lake house before, but the beauty of the interior still didn't fail to make them both look around in awe.

"I'll show you to your room." Padme gestured for them to follow her, leading them down a long hallway. "Here."

Padme opened a large oak door, leading them inside. As they walked in, Y/N's jaw dropped at the sight. A beautiful four poster king sized bed sat on one end of the room, and on the other end was a living space. An attached bathroom with two large doors that were wide open was on one wall, and Y/N could see the large jacuzzi that was implanted in the floor.

Even though it was glorious, her mind was on one thing. There was only one bed. Anakin's mind had drifted there too, obvious confusion and concern adorning his features.

"Padme, it's beautiful but.. There's only one bed." Anakin spoke, setting down his and Y/N's bags on the ground.

"Sorry about that, but I wanted to make sure you guys got the best room of the house." Padme smiled excitedly. "It's almost as nice as the master. I figured since you two have had a lot going on, as well as the fact that i'm taking you away from more pressing matters, you would enjoy a nice room like this."

"I love it- i really do, but um.. would it be possible for me to stay in a separate room?" Y/N asked.

"Do you not like it?" Padme frowned, sadly looking around at her decor.

Anakin shook his head quickly. "No, no, we both love it. It's just, one bed and there two of us."

"It's a king sized bed, i'm sure you'll have plenty of your own space." Padme smirked, causing Y/N to furrow her eyebrows. "Well, feel free to get unpacked. I'm going to go check if the chef has started on dinner yet." Padme gave no time for interjections, leaving the two Jedi alone.

Padme shut the door behind her, causing Y/N and Anakin to awkwardly stare at each other for a couple moments. Eventually, Y/N turned away, walking over to what she assumed was a closet. She began to unpack her clothes, hanging her robes and other pieces of clothing up. She left her panties and bras in her bag, figuring it would be better to hide them away.

"I'm sorry." Anakin spoke.

Y/N confusedly turned to him, furrowing her eye brows. "Sorry? For what?" She questioned, zipping up her bag.

"For having to share a room." Anakin shrugged. "I mean, it's not ideal. I'll try not to hog the bed."

"No, it's okay." Y/N turned back around, placing her bag in the closet. "We're best friends, it's not that big of a deal."

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

Y/N had gone to spend some girl time with Padme a few hours ago after dinner, leaving Anakin to have some time for himself. He was nervous, but honestly excited, about sharing a bed with Y/N so he took some time to calm his nerves.

After leaving them alone for a while, he figured he could give them some company. Stepping out of his room, he began to walk to Padmés room.

As he approached her room, he heard their voices through the door.

"God, I just wish there were some suitable men." Padme groaned. Anakin could hear shuffling through the cracked door, making him flinch and back away a few steps.

"I know there's someone out there for you, Mae. What's your type? Maybe I could hook you up with someone." Y/N suggested, chuckling at the finish of her sentence.

"You? Set me up with someone? I'm sorry, Y/N/N, but you're a Jedi. You don't know many men who are on the market." Padme replied.

"I guess you're right. Anyways, so tell me, what is your type?" Y/N asked again. Anakin could hear a heavy sigh and then a groan.

"I guess.. I like guys with dark brown hair and hazel eyes. Tall, obviously. Oh and I don't like super sensitive men. Like grow up, ya know?" Padme ranted, making Y/N laugh.

Anakin furrowed his eyebrows at the last comment, but continued listening.

"What about you, Y/N? What's your type?" Padme questioned.

"I don't have a type." Y/N answered.

"Come on, Y/N/N. Even though you're not allowed to have attachments you can still think guys are hot." Padme teased, making Y/N giggle. "Come on girl, tell me."

"Fine. I guess.. Blonde curly hair. But not platinum blonde, more like a dirty blonde. Blue eyes.. Tall, muscular but not beefy. And ambition is really attractive. Loyalty and bravery. Oh and I love a man who's dominant." Y/N rambled, making a light blush appear on Anakin's cheeks.

"For someone who isn't supposed to have attachments and doesn't have a 'type', it sounds like you're describing a certain someone down to every small detail." Padme giggled. Anakin leaned against the wall, trying to hear them better. His heart fluttered followed by his stomach twisting.

Anakin heard a thump and then a soft groan, followed by Y/N huffing. "I have no clue what you're talking about."

"Don't hit me! And of course you don't." Padme teased. "It's not like you just described Anakin almost perfectly. The one thing you're forgetting about him is that he's a big baby. I don't know how you can handle being around him that often. He's such a whiner!" Anakin frowned deeply, folding his arms across his chest.

"Hey!" Y/N snapped. "First of all, don't say that. He's just sensitive. Second of all, I was not describing Anakin!"

Padme let out a loud cackle, another thump and groan sounded after a moment. "I said that to get a rise out of you. And save it, Y/N I know you're in love with him."

Anakin's heart rate quickened, and he couldn't help but smile softly.

"Love? Seriously? If anything I just think he'd be good in bed." Y/N snorted. "I've had casual hookups before with no attachment, so thinking he's attractive isn't against the code."

"Whatever you say." Padme answered. "All I know is that friends don't look at friends that way."

There was a few moments of silence, causing Anakin to assume the conversation was over. Just as he was about to walk away, Padme began to speak again.

"You know, I'd bet if you asked him to fuck you he probably would."

"Padme!" Y/N scolded. "What's the matter with you?"

Loud giggles erupted and Anakin couldn't help but smirk. "Even though I wouldn't mind getting laid, I couldn't do that. Especially not with him. The council would flip if they knew two of their Jedi fucked each other, not to mention the fact that he's the chosen one and all."

"I guess." Padme whispered. "Good thing you're not on Coruscant right now.. No one would know."

"Mae, you can be such a bad influence, I swear." Y/N's tone of voice was irritated. "I hate to break it to you, but I'm never having sex with Anakin, as much as I'd like to." Anakin's eyes widened at the last statement, and he could feel his pants become uncomfortable as his mind began to wander.

"So you admit it! You do want him!"

"Fine. Yes. But even though I may feel something for him, I could never act on it." Y/N softly replied.

"At least you get to share a bed."

"Yeah, about that, what the hell were you thinking? Putting us in a room together?" Y/N shouted.

"Quiet down, unless you want Anakin to hear us." Padme whisper screamed. "I told you why I did it. I did it so you guys could have the nicest suite."

"Cut the bullshit, Ms. Matchmaker. I know for a fact every room in this damn house is nicer than any bedroom i've ever had." Y/N replied.

"Fine. You guys just needed a little shove, okay? You both are stubborn and would never admit to your feelings, so why not help out a little?" Padme reasoned. "Come on, just admit it. You know you like sharing a bed with him."

After a few more minutes of eavesdropping, Anakin backed away. Heading back to their shared room, he closed the door and began to nervously pace.

It wasn't long after that Y/N had entered, oblivious of Anakin's newfound knowledge. As she walked in, Anakin stopped pacing, facing her with his brows furrowed.

"You good?" She rose her brows, heading over to the closet.

"Yes! I- i mean yes." Anakin's voice was high pitched at first, but he quickly deepened it.

"Uh- alright." Y/N grabbed her pajamas, walking to the bathroom. "I'm going to get changed."

Y/N braided her soft Y/H/C hair, the thick locks falling over her shoulder. She slipped on her pajamas, the less revealing pair that she brought. She thought she would be having her own room, so most of her pajamas consisted of either satin nighties or thin and very revealing night dresses. She did pack one less suggestive pair of pajamas, which was a matching button up and shorts. It was black with small pink hearts adorning it. The trim was a matching pink, and the shorts had a satin bow.

She felt childish, but they sure were comfortable. After Y/N finished getting ready to sleep, she took a breath and exited the bathroom.

She internally groaned when she saw Anakin laying on the bed. He was under the duvet, but she could see his upper half which was bare. He had his flesh arm draped over his eyes, not noticing that she had come out of the bathroom.

Y/N stayed quiet, walking over to the closet and placing her dirty clothes in a hamper that was provided.

"Aw, your pajamas have little hearts on them!" Anakin laughed, causing Y/N to turn back so she could glare at him.

"Shut up." She rolled her eyes, walking over to the bed. She slipped under the covers, giving them a good amount of personal space. "At least i'm not shirtless."

"Hey, I don't like to sleep with one on. It's uncomfortable." Anakin defended, which made her furrow her eye brows and shoot him a glare.

"Whatever."

Y/N's irritated demeanor was definitely from the conversation her and Padmé had earlier. Her sexual frustration as she well as the fact that Padmé called her out for her obvious feelings for Anakin made her on edge. Especially since these feelings had been building for years and this is the first time someone had called her out for it.

After a few moments of silence, she felt the bed shift, which caused her to glance over at Anakin. His expression was unreadable, but the fact that he was slowly inching towards her made her swallow nervously.

"What did you and Padme talk about?" He asked in a sing song voice. He was now right next to her, laying on his stomach with his chin resting in his hands.

"Girl stuff." She shortly replied, furrowing her eyebrows at his weird behavior. Slightly uncomfortable since she was in fact talking about him with Padme, she picked at her nails.

"Girl stuff? Like the guys you want to fuck?"

Y/N's head shot up to look at him. His head was still in his hands and he had a goofy grin on his face. "I have no clue what you're talking about." She looked back down at her hands, resuming the picking she was doing to her cuticles.

"That's not what I heard." He sang, sitting up. Y/N dead panned, looking up to meet his blue eyes. "Are you seriously going to make me say it outright? i heard you, Y/N. I heard that you want to fuck me."

"Uhhhh-" Y/N shot out of the bed, her heart racing. She wasn't one to face her problems, she usually avoided them.

"Hey! Where are you going!?" Anakin shouted, standing up as well.

"What? Sorry can't hear you!" Y/N croaked, rushing to the door. Guess she'd be sleeping in Padmé's room tonight.

But right before she could leave, Anakin grasped her wrist and spun her around so they were now facing each other. His face was no longer teasing, but now it was serious.

"Come on, Y/N/N. We need to talk about this." He spoke, furrowing his eyebrows.

"There's nothing to talk about, Anakin. You invaded my privacy. I wasn't going to say anything to you for a reason." Y/N snapped, glaring up at him.

"Why not?" He conveniently ignored the invasion of privacy comment, making Y/N roll her eyes. "Why weren't you going to say anything?" He was still gripping her wrist which made Y/N nervously swallow.

"We're not having this conversation. Now let me go." Y/N sternly spoke, looking up into Anakin's blue eyes. She could feel her self control slipping.

"No, you don't just get to act like you didn't say what you said. You can't leave me hanging." Anakin pleaded.

"You invaded my privacy, you twat. You found out something I wanted no one to know. You and l both know we're not supposed to have attachments so i'm not-"

"Fuck the code. I don't care." His voice was deadly, which made Y/N freeze and gulp nervously. "I've been controlling myself for years now. I haven't done or said anything because I wasn't going to do that to you. Not if you didn't feel the same. But, fuck, you do feel the same and now I can't not have you."

"What are you saying?" Y/N whispered, searching his cerulean eyes.

"I'm saying that I not only want to fuck you but I want you. Not just your body. I love you." His words were quiet and strained.

Y/N's eyes widened, and after a moment, all self control was gone. Their lips were smashed together perfectly, their bodies shoved against each other. Y/N was slammed against the wall, all sense of gentleness thrown out the window. 

Anakin's hands were gripping her hips and her hands were tangled in his curly blonde hair. Their kisses were quick and rough, teeth clashing and lips already growing sore from the desperate roughness.

"Need you." Anakin spoke in between kisses, his hands finding their way down to her ass and cupping it. He squeezed it firmly, making her whimper into his mouth.

"Then have me."

That gave him the permission to do what he's always wanted to do. He picked her up, their lip lock not breaking as he carried her over to the bed. He threw her onto the plush mattress, their kiss breaking momentarily.

He crawled on top of her, running his hands all over her body before smashing his lips back onto hers. Y/N swiped her tongue against his bottom lip, asking for entrance. He complied, letting their tongues meet in a messy battle of dominance.

Anakin's hand found her breast, squeezing it firmly through her shirt as he continued kissing her. He broke the lip lock, letting his kisses find their way to her neck. He wasn't being merciful. he immediately started harshly sucking on her sensitive skin, bruises sure to form.

Y/N arched her back a small amount as he found an extra sensitive spot, making Anakin smirk against her skin. His kisses traveled down until he let go completely, wetting his lips as his hands ran their way down to her shorts. Without wasting another second, he yanked her pajama shorts down, taking her underwear with them. He immediately spread her legs, taking in the sight of her dripping sex.

"Fuck." Anakin whispered. "So wet." He took his index finger and thumb, spreading apart her slick folds so he could have a better look at her soaked hole. "All for me?" He teased, not taking his eyes off of her tight cunt.

Y/N's cheeks burned red and she embarrassedly covered her face with her hands. "Ah ah ah," Anakin tutted. With his free hand he swatted her hands away. "Look at me when i'm touching you." Y/N took a shaky breath and looked back down at him, wetting her lips as her eyes met his. "Atta girl."

Without any foreplay or warning, Anakin shoved his face into her pussy, his lips attaching to her clit immediately. His vigor made Y/N arch her back and let out a loud moan.

She wasn't expecting him to touch her so roughly as quickly as he did, but Maker, did it feel good. "Anakin!" She cried out, making him pull away and give her a stern look.

"Gotta stay quiet for me, Angel." He purred, immediately attaching his lips back to her swollen clit.

Her moans were now soft and quiet, eager to listen to his demands. Anakin ran his tongue up and down her slick pussy, wanting her to feel every touch and every movement of his tongue. He slowly pushed one finger into her cunt, making her bite down on her fist to suppress the sounds she was so eager to release. As she arched her back, Anakin shoved his face harder into her pussy, quickening his pace so he could bring her to her orgasm.

He swiftly added another finger, pumping in and out of her hole with such ease and vigor that made her whole body tremble.

She was basically a mewling mess, which made Anakin smirk into her pussy. He could feel her walls clench around his fingers, signaling she must be close to her orgasm. He didn't stop his movements, he continued to desperately lap at her clit and dip his fingers in and out of her.

"Fuck! Ani- i'm so-" Y/N was too caught up in the pleasure to finish her words, instead, she bucked her hips up to his face, needing more.

Anakin knew what she wanted, so he harshly sucked at her clit and added a third finger, causing Y/N's back to arch so much that it began to hurt.

Anakin curled his fingers in her sopping cunt, brushing against her spongey g-spot she so desperately needed stimulated.

"Im-" She began to speak, but her impending orgasm interrupted her. Instead of finishing her words, her slick gushed all over Anakin's face and fingers. He didn't slow down his pace, causing her whole body to twitch and tremble in pleasure and overstimulation. "Oh- oh my g-god!" she whimpered as he eased her out of her orgasm.

He eventually pulled away, the lower half of his face completely soaked in her cum. He had a cheeky smirk on his face as he sucked her juices off of his fingers. Anakin wiped away her slick off of his chin with his bare arm, not taking his eyes off of her as he did so.

Her heart was pounding as he looked deep into her eyes, and as he slowly inched towards her so he was hovering over her, she felt small. Anakin smirked at her shyness, so to distract her, he began to unbutton her pajama shirt. He let it fall off her shoulders, exposing her skimpy black bra.

"For someone who wasn't expecting to get fucked, this sure is a slutty little thing." Anakin snapped her bra strap making Y/N shiver. She was still trembling from her orgasm, and couldn't help but whimper as she thought about how his cock would soon be buried into her cunt. Anakin unclipped her bra and groaned lowly as he saw her perky breasts, her nipples already hardened. She had goosebumps erupt on her body now that she was completely naked. "Tell me what you want." Anakin whispered, beginning to softly kiss her neck again. "Tell me."

"I-" Y/N shakily began. "I need you!" She whined.

"What do you need me to do, baby?" Anakin pulled away from her neck, grinning down at her. Y/N couldn't help but roll her eyes at his cockiness, but still gave in.

"Need you inside of me." She cried, huffing and tugging on the waistband of his sweatpants.

Anakin hummed. "Alright, if that's what you really want." He quickly pulled down his sweatpants, throwing them off to the side. He was left in black boxer briefs and Y/N could see the tent his length made through the material.

Making eye contact with her, he slowly pulled down his boxers, biting his lip as he saw her reaction. Y/N whimpered at the sight of his thick length, wondering how the fuck that would fit in her little hole.

"Don't you worry pretty girl, i'm gonna make that pretty little pussy feel so good." Anakin wrapped his large hand around his cock, pumping it a few times before he spread her legs again and rubbed it through her folds, still slick from her first orgasm. "All for me." He whispered under his breath.

Y/N wrapped her legs around his waist and bucked her hips, desperate to be filled. Anakin complied, slowly pushing his cock into her needy cunt.

"Fuck!" She threw her head back and let out a shaky breath, digging her fingernails into his back.

Anakin hissed at the feeling and continued to sink himself into her pussy. As he bottomed out, he placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. His gentleness soon subsided, him drawing his cock out of her tight hole and shoving it back in with a single thrust.

They formed a steady, rough rhythm, his cock stretching her walls out so much that her legs were shaking. One hand held himself up, sitting next to her head. He gripped the sheets, and with his other hand, he snuck it onto her neck. Squeezing her throat lightly, it made her roll her eyes back into her head from bliss.

"That's it," Anakin groaned, continuing to vigorously thrust into her cunt. Y/N could feel his cock touch every part of her, something that no man had ever truly fulfilled.

"A-Ani!" Y/N whined, digging her heels into his lower back.

"Shhh," Anakin bit down on her earlobe and gently squeezed her throat again. "Gotta stay quiet for me, pretty girl."

Y/N's mouth was wide open and she complied with his request, the sounds in her throat subsiding. Her boobs bounced as he continued to thrust into her, Anakin placing the hand that was once around her throat on her right boob. As he continued to pound her relentlessly, he kneaded and squeezed one of her breasts while he sucked and bit the other one.

Anakin spoke sweet nothings to her, pushing her towards her impending orgasm. It was beginning to grow nearly impossible for Y/N not to make any sounds, so she clasped one hand over her lips while the other tugged at Anakin's blonde curls.

"Fuck baby, you feel so good." Anakin purred, throwing his head back as he thrusted into her.

"Anakin- Anakin i'm so close!" She whined, closing her eyes and letting her lips part in heavenly bliss.

"Yeah? You're gonna cum for me? You're gonna cum on my cock?" Anakin chided, squeezing the boob that he was still kneading.

Y/N nodded vigorously, wrapping her arms around his neck and whimpering quietly. "I'm gonna- i'm gonna come, Ani!"

Her walls clenched harder around his cock, pushing him towards the edge. "Hold on baby, i'm almost there." He began to thrust harder and faster, making it so they could come undone together. "Okay pretty girl, cum on my cock."

Y/N arched her back and let out a pathetic whine, the walls of her cunt clenching around his fat cock. She felt herself gush all over his length just as spurts of his cum shot into her quivering pussy. "Oh my god-" She moaned, scratching her nails down his toned back.

"Fuck, yes," Anakin let out a small whimper which made Y/N cum even harder, loving the sounds he was making.

After they rode out their highs, Anakin pulled out and collapsed next to her, the both of them breathing heavily. He wasted no time pulling her close, wrapping his long arms around her trembling and sweaty figure.

Y/N hummed clinging onto him. Their sweaty skin stuck together and the smell of sex filled the air. It was quiet for a few moments before Y/N spoke up.

"What the fuck did we just do?" She whispered, burying her face in his neck. She was still slightly out of breath.

"We just fucked."

"Anakin, i'm serious." Y/N whined, slapping his chest. "We just broke about 20 different rules."

"I don't care." Anakin shrugged, pulling her closer and pressing a soft kiss on her sweaty forehead. "I love you, and i'm not going to let the code get in the way of that."

Y/N leaned up, placing a soft kiss on his lips. "I love you too."

[thelov3lybookworm]

omg can we please get some more delulu reader x delulu azriel where the whole ic thinks they’re crazy and would absolutely not be s good pair, but they’re delusional and think they’re obsessed w eachother

” look at him just staring at me, it’s so obvious he wants me it makes him look stupid ”

” babes he’s literally glaring at you as if he’s planning to murder you ”

” she just cannot look away can she? god I know she’ll be my girl by the end of tonight ”

” um hello??? she’s literally talking shut about you, I heard her a minute ago?????”

and they walk up to eachother looking like they’ll fight but then they kiss to everyones surprise and leave them all with their jaw dropped. bext morning they see az and reader having breakfast together, and they’re nice to eachother

” alright tell me again how you fell in love with me azzie”

” okay, so it was when you first punched me. I really felt the connection there ( no pun intended )😍😍 “

” ohhh mother above i knew it!!! for me it was when you almost choked me to death w your shadows, true love fr😍😍”

everyone at the table:😟😟😟😟😟😟

Delulu!azzie x delulu!reader (Part 2?)

Summary: The inner circle feels like... they are going insane.

•○●⛦●○•

A/n: hehe i really got nothing to say but i love this looooolll 😂

alsooo... i think this could be read as a part 2 to the previous lil thing i wrote for this prompt, so I'll just link it here if any of you wanted to read it 😉

enjoy, babes 😉

•○🌑○•

Mor's pov.

Mor was seriously concerned for her friend, and it was not something that happened often.

Her friends were usually more sensible than this, and usually didn't call one of the most powerful male in the whole of prythian an ugly bastard and then always walk around nagging them.

But currently, Mor's best friend was glaring daggers at the Spymaster of the night court from across the dance floor, and Mor had never been more scared at the glare on the shadowsinger's face.

It wouldn't have mattered that much if Y/n and Azriel simply hated each other. But the fact that Y/n was so delusional over him and thought that the glares he sent her every waking moment of his day were because he was in love with her, didn't sit right with Mor.

Mor had tried to point it out multiple times to the winter court female, but the female either never paid attention, or she didn't care.

And now, as Mor and Y/n sat in the bar with drinks in their hands, the latter glaring all the way across the dance floor to the booth where the Spymaster was sat with the rest of the inner circle, Mor watched on.

A moment later, Y/n scoffed, turning to Mor.

"Look at him just staring at me, it’s so obvious he wants me. It makes him look stupid."

Mor's jaw was practically on the ground, and she spluttered out the first thing that came to her mind.

"Y/n, he’s literally glaring at you as if he’s planning to murder you." She whisper yelled, incredulous. But Y/n had turned away already, caught again in a staring-and-glaring-holes-in-the-other-person's-skull match with Azriel.

Mor sighed, swirling her drink in her glass before taking a long sip from it.

Even if Mor pretended that the two were really in love, she simply could not imagine them being a great couple. Not saying that she didn't want the two to be happy, but watching the pair constantly be at each other's throat gave her no hope that they could ever be in a loving relationship.

If they could simply sort out their problems with each other, then maybe there was a chance. But if not, Mor was sure she'd find one of their heads lying in the hallways of their home if they ever got together.

•○●⛦●○•

Cassian's pov.

If someone told the Lord of Bloodshed that he'd be scared shitless of his own brother a few months ago, he would have laughed.

But here he was, coiled tight like a spring, ready to jump into action if his brother decided to kill the winter court female right in the middle of the dancing and drinking bodies that filled Rita's.

It was absurd. Ridiculous, really, how much hatred radiated off of Azriel as he sat there, practically breathing flames as he stared at across the dance floor.

To get a reprieve from the constant tension in his shoulders, Cassian stood, stretching before making his way towards the bar, near where Mor was sat with her friend.

"He is such a loser. I swear I've never seen such a big loser in my life. Ever." Cassian overheard Y/n say, and he had to physically stop himself from laughing.

"Y/n-"

Mor began, but Y/n beat her to it.

"He's also such a jerk. Bet he never gets any females because of that shit attitude."

Cassian decided it was enough overhearing for the day and walked back to where Azriel sat, the rest of the inner circle having slowly dispersed.

Cassian handed a glass to Azriel, who never took his eyes off the female that now stood from the stool she was sitting on with Mor, now making her way towards the dance floor.

The general watched as his brother knocked back the drink, slamming the empty glass on the table in front of him.

"She just cannot look away, can she? God, I know she’ll be my girl by the end of tonight."

Cassian very nearly spat out his drink, coughing loudly as he stared at the Spymaster, who glanced at him, unamused.

"Are you okay brother?" Azriel didn't reply, his gaze fixed on the dancing female, her gaze fixed on him. "Hello? Are you listening? She was literally talking shit about you, I heard her, like, a minute ago?"

Cassian was not proud enough to believe he was he smartest of people, and he would admit that he did sometimes get confused over things that needed using his brain. But he would like to blame his dumbness on his brain being closely guarded by his thick skull.

But the things he did not understand? Those things were actually supposed to make sense.

But this? Azriel's weird delusion about how the female from the winter court was obsessed with him? This was not something that was supposed to make sense, and it would leave even the smartest person in Prythian scratching their heads.

But Azriel either didn't hear Cassian, or didn't care, because in the next moment, he stood, ignoring his brother as he made his way onto the dance floor, his steps sure and cocky.

Cassian watched in growing nervousness, then horror and shock, as Azriel stalked up to Y/n, as she stared at him, her eyes sharp.

Cassian watched, as his brother took the face of the winter court female's face in his hands, and promptly slammed his lips onto hers.

Cassian's eyes widened, his jaw unhinging from his face and dropping to the ground. A quick glance to the kissing pair's right told him he was not the only one who was experiencing this onslaught of emotional cocktail.

Mor stared back at Cassian, her eyes as big as Nyx's fists, her mouth opening and closing like a fish's.

The scene was comical, though it didn't erase the shock coursing through Cassian's veins. And all that he could think about was...

What the fuck?

•○🌑○•

"Was I dreaming or did last night really happen?"

Most of the inner circle was seated around the dining table in the house of wind, holding their cup of their preferred beverages or eating their breakfast.

They all glanced up at Cassian as he spoke, but before anyone could reply, in walked Y/n and Azriel.

The sight of the two of them clinging to each other was as jarring as the night before, when the two of them had been filled with lust and clung to each other, kissing until Az winnowed the two of them away.

Well- Cassian thought, that is one way to answer my question.

The two ignored everyone else, as if not aware of their surroundings as they settled down next to each other, one of Y/n's hands clinging tightly around Azriel's bicep as he used the other to pile food onto a plate.

Azriel picked his fork, scooping up some scrambled eggs, holding it up for Y/n, who smiled and opened her mouth for him. He slipped the spoon inside, then took a bite himself.

The inner circle watched in shock, all thought eddying out of their brains as they watched the loving exchange.

"Alright tell me again how you fell in love with me Azzie." Y/n mumbled, laying her head on his shoulder after she finished chewing, hearts in her eyes as she stared at the spymaster.

Azriel seemed to think for a moment, then he smiled down at her as he held up his fork to her mouth again. "Okay, so it was when you first punched me. I really felt the connection there."

Y/n made a face that screamed aww. "So the first time we met?" Azriel nodded, nudging her to open her mouth. "Oh mother above, I knew it! For me it was when you almost choked me to death with your shadows." She sighed dreamily as she watched him take a bite of the food, completely oblivious to the turmoil the inner circle was going through.

Mor rushed to stand, mumbling something about having an important meeting as she hurried away. Rhys and Feyre stood too, saying they needed to check up on Nyx. And before Cassian could point out that Feyre was literally holding the babe, they walked away.

Left alone with the swooning couple, Cassian made eye contact with Nesta, who gagged silently at the love in the air, then inclined her head towards the stairs.

Cassian was all too happy to get out of there, as the moment him and his mate were out of sight, the sounds of clothes hitting the floor sounded, along with declarations of love.

And, honestly, Cassian was not one to judge people or be disgusted by other's love life, but he couldn't help but sympathise with Nesta when she gagged again.

•○🌑○•

Azriel Taglist: @darthdumbasss @foreverrandomwritings

General Taglist: @bubybubsters @eos-princess @nightless @harrystylesfan2686 @cassie6392

[munsonsreputation]

move baby, i'm in love

word count: [2.8k]

warnings: smut (mdni or i will literally dropkick you so hard), oral (blowie), illusions to oral fixation and a tiny bit of choking (literally stevie just pressing down once), and mentions of piv.

summary: steve takes you out to italy in hopes of exploring the city and catching a break from hawkins -- but the both of you should've known things would get hot and heavy the second he put a cigar to his mouth.

The Italian sun just nearly stumbles over the city, the sky shifting from its bright clear baby blue to a soft orange that casts a light overhead.

The gold chain around your boyfriend’s neck glimmers against the shimmering rays nearly blinding you, yet you don’t make any moves to look away from him.

He looks tempting, and it’s almost like torture, the way he’s doing it so casually like he doesn’t know what effect it has on you.

The way you’re struggling to find any semblance of composure as you sit across from him with your legs clenched and your hands shaking.

His eyes look up at you past his sunglasses, a brow raised while he pulls the roll from between his lips.

“S’the matter, baby? Too hot?”

Yeah, way too fucking hot, Harrington

You take a deep breath through your nose, shaking your head as you smile through the torture and relax your legs, trying not to look so tense because you really don’t want to have to come up with a lie to explain it.

“N-no, I’m fine. Just a little warm out.”

You pushed your hair over your shoulder, hoping to find a breeze of air soon.

He frowns, cupping your cheek with his large palm making you grow hotter by the second. You must be scorching under his touch and your theory is proven right as his frown becomes deeper muddled with concern.

“You can wait for me inside if you want? I’m almost done with this little thing.” He says, gesturing to the cigar in his hand.

It takes everything in you to not jump his bones, but you fear you’re already teetering on the line. Literally moments away from telling him to put out the stupid thing and play with you instead.

Only you don’t.

You actually have it in you to compose yourself, taking the initiative to back away from his fingertips and clear your throat. Though the action alone burns, as if you had been stripped away from something…someone you needed.

“I…it’s okay, I wanna wait.” The crack in your voice failing to smooth out.

Your attempts at reassuring him went nowhere and you should’ve known it’d be that way especially because Steve can see right through you.

He knows the forced smile on your face and he definitely picks up on the crack of your voice — don’t even get him started on the fact that he’s noticed your legs clenching since a few minutes ago.

“Baby,” He laughs, slipping his free hand down across his spread legs, knowing what it does to you. “It’s much cooler inside. I’ll be there in a bit.”

His tone is almost sincere, as if he really is oblivious, but deep down you both know how this is going to end. It’s only a matter of when and who is going to make the first move — he knows you can’t resist.

He stands correct, observing as you shake your head and shift your chest out, rolling your shoulders back trying to be cool and in control, but you weren’t as nonchalant as you thought you were being.

“No, I wanna stay,” you say more sternly.

Steve chuckles again. He can see the shivers creeping up over your skin when he makes the move to take off his sunnies, setting them on the glass table before he leans closer to you, leaving only inches.

“Yeah?” He smirks, taking a drag of the cigar. “Why d’you wanna stay out here in the hot sun while I smoke this thing? I thought you hated the smell?”

His voice is low and teasing, but his actions still remain sweet, the whiff of smoke exhaled away from your face doing his best to not let the smell get directly to you.

“I do.” You whisper shamelessly, eyes beginning to go glassy with him so close to you.

The cigar seems to be a prop in his hand now. His forefingers twiddled it as he pursed his lips and slanted his eyes at you.

“Tell me then, baby.”

He’s not gonna make this easy, and if you had any patience, you’d love to play the little game, but right now you had none and just wanted to play with him.

“You…you look so good and I wanna watch you.”

Your voice comes with a whine, an insatiable one that has Steve suppressing a growl in his chest.

You watch his throat bob with a thick swallow before his palm finds its way back up to your cheek, cupping it and feeling the blood underneath rush blazingly.

Only he can get you like and likewise you’re the only one who can get his blood rushing, in other places not just one.

Steve’s better at playing the game especially when he’s got the upper hand like right now. You’re staring up at him lazily, ready to give him everything and more at a moment’s notice.

He’s the bait and you’re waiting to bite.

“Awww baby,” He says half-mockingly.

“This whole time I thought you wanted a try, all along you just wanna watch me, huh? Isn’t. That. Right?”

The last three words are accompanied with a tap of his fingertips against your plush cheek. It makes you go stupid, brain shutting off and the only goal you have is making him feel good.

Your eyes flutter, nearly closing, just having enough strength behind them to keep watching your boyfriend before you inhaled slowly, trying to form words that your mind could barely find.

“Mhmm, I do…I really really do, Stevie.”

He can feel you press your face deeper into his hand, and he has zero plans of retracting his touch away, wanting to make up for the way you ripped yourself from him earlier. Feeling your breath hitting his skin with how deeply you’re taking air in and out, trying not to float away too soon.

His free hand taps the blunt, shaking off the ash absentmindedly as he leans closer, letting his lips brush over yours cruelly for only a second, leaving you whining not getting a proper kiss.

A smile dances on his face, still so close to you yet so far away, knowing that it’s this back and forth that’s going to make it all worth it.

“Aren’t I lucky? Got to take my girl out here. Wanted to spoil her rotten, but all she wants to do is watch me.”

“I can do more than just watch.”

Your voice finds strength within its tenderness, wanting to prove to him how much you wanted…needed him right now.

“Yeah?” He challenged, “what did’ya have in mind sweet thing?”

You gulped, letting your palms rest on his thighs, your limbs already preparing themselves to position yourself on your knees in front of him.

“Let me show you instead.” You whispered throatily as if you’d already been wrecked.

He grinned, patting your cheek once more, followed by a peck on the tip of your nose.

“Go ahead, baby.”

His permission is like a symphony to your ears, giving himself to you in a way that only you get to know. No one gets him like this and no one ever will… just you.

Your knees meet the ground, settling between his legs and fingers working immediately.

“So big,” you murmur, hastily undoing his belt while your lips kiss his clothed bulge.

He grunts, throwing his head back weakly, knowing it doesn’t get any better than this. If he could, you and him would move here permanently and forget about the outside world completely.

“You’re so beautiful.”

He’s done playing mean, when you’re showing him so much affection in a way that should be sinful but to him, it’s heavenly.

Your eyes flutter up at him sweetly while your hands reach into his boxers, pulling his length. He watches the way his cock steals your attention, eyes adverting to the hardness that your hands can barely wrap around.

Your thumbs rubbing the leaking pre-cum over the tip and you’re doing him in by placing a kiss right on the head.

You’re not trying to play mean at all, but he can’t help but feel that you are.

Pure perfection right in front of him with your eyes flicking back up to meet his while your lips still rest on his sensitive skin.

The pearlescent seed painting your lips like gloss and all he wants to do to is pull you up and kiss you stupid before fucking you just as dumb.

But he settles, knowing this is what you want and he’ll get his fix in a minute.

“Fuck me.” He seethes, gritting his teeth and holding back on thrusting forward.

Your tongue peeks out, laving underneath his length as you enclose your lips around him for only a second before you pull away with a nice ‘pop’.

“In a bit, baby, let me have my fun.” You mutter, using your saliva and spreading the wetness over his cock with tight strokes, paying special attention to the slit.

He’s having trouble controlling his breathing, the small pudge of his lower stomach moving up and down spastically beneath his shirt proving it to you.

“Take your time sweet girl… I’ll be patient.”

“Hmm, I love you.”

He’s only a millisecond from responding that he loves you more, but you beat him, eyes veering up as your lips kiss the skin above his knee.

“…and I love you too, Stevie.”

He’s gonna fuck you so good when you’re done just to show you how much he loves you and your pussy.

You smile sickly sweet, before going back to work kissing your way back to his hard on. His cock pulses against your lips while you pepper pecks up the thick shaft and there’s a new ferocity occupying his senses the closer you get to what you really want.

“Show me some love, sweet girl.”

He nods, finally forcing the blunt to his lips as you wrap your lips around him and taking him down gradually.

Your head moves up and down, spit pooling around him, coating him in your wetness, leaving the rest of what you can’t fit, glistening.

Each drag of your tongue and skim of your fingers cupping his heavy sack brings him closer to the edge at an alarming rate.

“Fuck…” He blew the smoke out, shaking his head in awe, “your mouth is so good, baby.”

You hum against him, the vibration sending shockwaves up his spine and his cock. Fingers wire through your scalp, tugging mildly to get your eyes up on him in time to see him taking another swig of the blunt knowing it’ll drive you crazy.

“Should’ve known this would turn you on, baby.” He smirks cockily, taking his time to close his eyes and open them back up as he blows the smoke out.

There’s another whine, eyes rolling towards the back of your head with the image of him engrained in your mind.

You should really be scolding him about the health effects of smoking, but all you want to do is please him until the damn thing is gone.

“You just go hot for every little thing I do isn’t that right?” He continues to tease.

Seconds later, with no response given with you too busy and mouth too full, there’s a tap against your cheek, prompting your eyes to open back up.

Hairs that stick to your sweaty forehead are soon pushed away, his fingers knocking your temples with a grin on his face before threading them through your scalp and pulling you off.

“Words baby, c’mon, I know there’s still something up there.”

You clench around nothing, the effect of his words traveling straight to your core and it should be embarrassing that he gets you like this so easily, but you don’t have it in you to care one bit.

You gasp, catching your breath as you rest your cheek against his thigh.

“Y-yeah, you make me go stupid Stevie.”

He can see your hips wigging in the air, bottom raised up high in a position that makes him want to take you like that right here right this second.

He resists knowing he’ll get you in every position you can handle by the end of the night.

Steve’s grip releases from your scalp, falling down to your neck giving it only a slight squeeze before his thumb brushes over your bottom lip.

His cock is an obvious weakness, but so are his fingers.

You love them entwined with yours, wrapped around wrists and neck, inside the depth of you, and mostly when they’re in your mouth.

He answers your silent prayers, slipping it past your lips, letting you suck on it as your eyes flicker shut, getting lost in it like it’s as good as his cock.

Your hands don’t stop their movements, working your wrist up and down not too fast, not too slow, but just the way Steve like it. Your tongue working the same pace over his thumb — he can’t believe you’re real and thank God you are.

“You’re a smart girl to everyone else, but when I get you alone, f-fuck, you just forget everything and let me take care of it all don’t ya baby?”

You take a breath, letting his thumb fall from your mouth. “L-love letting go with you.”

His heart feels like it’s on fire the kind that swamps him in flames of all colors and should swallow him whole, but only it drives him crazier for you — you’re the fuel who keeps him burning and the only one who could do him in like this.

An admission that should get him riled up, and it does, but at the same time he knows that your words are a confession — you feel safe with him. Safe enough to trust him in a way you’ve never trusted anyone before.

With Steve, you can let go in more way than the other…but most notably in a way where you can love. Love him wherever you are in the world — in your shared dainty little hometown and out here in the middle of the Mediterranean sea.

He can’t help it, abandoning the stupid cigarette in the ashtray and cupping both cheeks in his hands as he leans down and pushes his lips to yours.

It’s messy and fast, a mixture of his pre-cum and the remnants of your lipgloss a sticky mess between the both of you, yet you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Ravishing each other like it’s the end of the world and the only thing you both have on your minds are each other.

“Fuck, I love you so much.” He says between kisses, no fight for dominance in it, just you and him mending together.

“Love my Stevie.” You murmur, clutching your hands around his cock, as his breath falters against you, his hips rising in tandem with your strokes.

“Love letting go with you too, honey. Love spoiling you to death even if it’s just m-me.”

You hate to do it, but you need to knowing he’s closer to the finish line and there’s one place you want the prize the most right now. So you nudge him away with your chin, pulling back and sitting back on your haunches as he falls back into the chair.

“Want your cum, baby… please give it to me.” You beg, voice going up an octave higher with need.

And your sweet boy never denies you anything, not his attention, not his cock, and most definitely not his cum.

“Take it all, baby.”

The costal view sat in front of Steve isn’t the one he’s admiring when a goddess is right before him on her knees worshipping him like this.

A work of art you are taking him down your throat as he sputters out praises from his mouth and spits loads into yours.

It’s only a matter of time before things get hotter and both feel higher than ever before.

“Move baby,” Steve growls in your ear, a handful of your ass in his hands with you now in his lap right where you belong.

The length of your dress hiked up over your hips and the bust of it pooling down your torso with your tits pressed against his shirt.

His length seated deep within you, squeezing him tightly as your arms wrap around his neck and your face burns buried in the juncture between it.

“Ooh, baby…” you whimper, beginning to move up and down with his help.

The two of you in a world of your very own — so alive, so lush.

Steve’s pretty sure your moans are music to his ears, something you always have in you, singing him a sweet melody on the balcony and soon he’ll have you screaming how much you love him.

He’ll be doing the same — after all it’s you he desires, and he’s more than in love.

💌 reblogs, tags, comments, + likes are greatly appreciated! leave a comment and let me know if want to be added to my taglist!! 💌

a/n: your honor, im guilty... of being a whore!!!!!!!! hope you guys like it <3

taglist: @translatemunson @kennedy-brooke @manda-panda-monium @tvserie-s-world @givemeth @steveharringtonswife @astolenkiss @loving-and-dreaming @awkotaco24 @engenelxver @elfiaaaa @pbs-theundeadmaggot @johnricharddeacy @gaysludge @scoopshxrrington @micheledawn1975 @ihatepeanutss @bakugouswh0r3 @claireiscrying @we-out-here-simping @dreamerjj

[sunnie-angel]

In the Shade of the Sun

jason todd x gn!reader

summary: a twin that can’t shake the feeling of being second best and a jason todd that’s all too familiar with always being compared to someone else

tags: angst

rating teen | wc: 2.1k

a/n: a response to a lovely ask partially inspired by this snack fic i wrote a while ago

Comparison has followed you since the minute you were born a twin. Earlier in fact, when the first few ultrasounds revealed a pair of heartbeats where there should have been only one. You’ve always been them-and-you, inseparable from the sibling that came into the world with you. You love them — how could you not love them? — but there are times when you also hate them a little bit too, for there never being a Them and a You. They don’t mean to shine so bright, to suck up all the air in the room leaving you to feel like a cheap knockoff bargain version of them. The twin that’s there too sounds about right, a nickname that whispers through your ears when rooms full of people seem to gravitate towards them.

Jason Todd has always been the second Wayne child, ever since he entered Bruce’s life. He was the second Robin shortly after, a title he can’t seem to shake no matter how long it’s been or how many different identities he’s tried on since. The unwanted son, three times over, the unwanted sidekick, unable to follow orders and constantly letting their emotions get the best of them. There’s a time when the idea of always coming second, of never being someone’s first choice, chokes the air out of his lungs. There’s a time when he chooses to make the first wound, to not care about being cared for. After all, with brothers like the Golden Boy and the Drake Heir, how can a screwup from Crime Alley compete? No, much better kill hope in its flowerbed and learn to expect nothing.

The moment Jason Todd lays eyes on you, he swears he can feel the stirrings of hope, buried deep underground but not yet dead. He reminds himself that it’s childish to wish someone would pick him for once, that bone deep longing to be someone’s priority nothing more than a trick of the mind and the effect of his drink.

The moment you lay eyes on Jason Todd, it feels like everyone in the room can see just how deeply interested you are in him. A gala, a college house party, the local dive bar — none of it matters anymore, fades into the backdrop of one of the most gorgeous and aloof men you’ve ever laid eyes. He’s the centre of so many hard gazes and lingering looks, people crowding along the periphery of his notice. There’s a room full of people and every one of them has taken notice of him, yet the only thing he seems to have noticed is the perspiration on his beer. He’s got a drink in his hand, dark glass of the long-necked bottle catching the light as he turns it between his fingers. What would it be like, you wonder, to have all of that single minded focus on you?

Your twin nudges you, makes some sort of mumbled remark about the handsome stranger that you don’t quite catch over the force of your fascination. They go off, pulling you along in the wake of their personality, ready to make friends and charm strangers. Your eyes never leave the stranger’s broad back, itching to see more and almost certain that no one will notice you trailing along with your brighter twin. By chance he glances up, eyes locking with yours. Staring back, you decide you may as well learn what his eye colour is if he’s already going to think you rude.

It goes quickly after that, a definitive clink as he sets down his beer, a few long strides before he’s standing in front of you asking to buy you a drink, you staring helplessly at your twin who only makes wide eyed shooing motions at you. The whole time he’s only got eyes for you. You agree, still shocked that this man would choose to make conversation with you out of everyone else present, but more than grateful to take this chance before he inevitably realizes that there’s really a better, shinier version of you holding court by the bar. Conversation starts in drips and drabs, soda sipped between off beat answers and interrupted questions. Jason tries though, and that more than anything has you slipping him your number with the promise of seeing him again.

Jason tucks that piece of paper away into the inside breast pocket of his leather jacket and smiles. Makes him feel good to know that just like Dick he can make someone blush and trip over their tongue, but also that people still have the same capacity to do that to him too. He’s had beautiful dates before, but none that had made him so giddy at the mere prospect of getting to know them more and to be known by them. It sobers his mood a bit, to know that the closer you get the less you’ll like what you see, but for now he’ll enjoy this and you.

The next time you see Jason, you’re determined to act like your twin would. After all, they’ve always been successful at getting people to like them and you both look similar enough that the same things should work for you too. It goes terribly. Their mannerisms fit like an ill-sized coat on you. Wrong and uncomfortable, a discordant note in every one of your sentences, you end up excusing yourself to the bathroom almost in tears. It takes staring at your reflection in the bathroom mirror to check how red your eyes have gotten to make you catalogue all of your differences. The way your noses slope ever so slightly differently, the subtle difference in the shade of your irises, the crest of your brow bone curving where theirs flattens. You rejoin him fully yourself, thinking that at least he’ll only be rejecting you for yourself and not for all the ways you’ve not been able to measure up to your twin. Instead the air between you eases into something comfortable and affectionate.

Jason listens to you the way no one has ever listened to you before. He turns his whole body to you, head cocked on a slight angle to catch each word that you breathe out. An old head injury as a child, he explains, one that makes it harder to filter out ambient noise that he’s learned to overcome if he tilts his head just so. He is listening, he promises, it might not look like it always but he’s listening to you. He asks you to repeat yourself if he doesn’t catch something, makes a point of making sure you get heard in your own words. Ordinarily, this is where your twin would step in to paraphrase you at a louder volume. But he wants to hear you. If someone cuts you off in a social setting, he’ll bring the conversation back to you. Every thought you’ve had and every point you want to make gets heard. Jason cares about what you have to say because it is you — and no one else — saying it.

Jason is well aware that not all of your interests are aligned. He’s not seen all the movies you have, or heard about most of your niche topics of interest, but he’s come to care about them because you care about them. He listens to you because the joy on your face at noticing he cared about what you cared about has taken root in his own chest. Jason notices the way you hesitate and your face falls when someone interrupts you or summarily dismisses your opinions. He works to get your voice heard because in any scenario he will always choose you over anyone else. He remembers what it was like to work his way back into the family fold and to feel like the weight of his words went unrecognized and unheeded.

For both of you, the thought of introducing each other to your respective families is like the sword of Damocles hanging over your heads. Jason has a home full of brothers, each of them more capable than him in so many areas (and none of them having the same stupidity to get themselves trickery to being killed). He’s more nervous about introducing you to Dick (who he is mature enough to admit is a handsome idiot if only in his own mind), Tim (who is downright terrifying when it comes to strategy and tech, with a trust fund to match), and Damian (the kid’s got a few years yet before he’s competing for your heart but Jason swears he’s a much more talented Robin than he ever was) than he is about trusting you with the Red Hood. On your part, you think about introducing Jason to your twin and get paralyzed by how the inevitable comparison will leave you looking so inadequate. You’ve learned to live in the shadow they cast, their achievements standing tall beside them, but this is one thing you can’t bear to come second place in. Jason’s chosen you, but how long will that last when presented with someone that doesn’t have your flaws?

Your unknowingly shared fears lead the both of you to become snippy, testing the waters to see how far you can push before they stop choosing you. Things come to ahead when Jason asks you why you treat him like a secret, like something to hide away when all he wants to do is show the world — and your family — just how lucky he is. Why you won’t share him with your self-professed other half, if that means you aren’t as serious about this love of yours as he is. He doesn’t tell you what it costs him to say that out loud. How each word is like a frost come early, turning everything in its wake brittle and fragile.

There’s tears and snot and possibly too many used tissues to be sanitary before all your insecurities can be let out. Hung out for scrutiny under Jason’s piercing stare.

“It’s not that I don’t love them, or that I hate having a twin. It’s just that it never feels like there’s a real me if I’m not compared to them. And even then, it’s not like I can outshine them. I feel like I’m constantly running behind them, trying to catch up with them with my hand outstretched to reach them, but I never will. Always the one a half-step behind, too slow too small too not enough of everything that gives them that spark. And I didn’t want you to see everything I’m not and realize that there’s a better version of me out there.” (This of course, is not put so eloquently or said particularly coherently but rather through a choked throat and a runny nose that would out even the worst allergies to shame. He holds you through it all.)

“You know I’m just as scared of you meetin’ my family too? Every one of my parents found somethin’ to love more than me. A better brother, a better soldier, a better memory of me. And now I’ve got who knows how many adopted siblings and I’m still the black sheep of that family and I’ve gotta introduce you to all those perfect people and hope somehow you’ll still wanna choose me? I accepted a long time ago I wasn’t gonna be anyone’s priority until you came and waltzed your way into my life. You’re the only one that’s ever chosen me and kept on choosin’ me and everyday I wake up terrified it’ll be the day you stop.”

That conversation is the first of many, each one feeling like 10 rounds with Gotham’s worst villains. But after there’s always a sense of healing, acrid wounds finally draining of all their poison. Insecurities run deep in both of you, the constant fact you wake up to each other a surprise. The constant litany of what ifs eventually begins to run a little quieter. Comparisons you make in your own head become a little less harsh. You don’t always believe Jason when he says he loves you best, but that’s alright for now. You know now that one day you could believe it, every day a step closer to when you can hear it and not feel that twinge of doubt. Jason flinched in the beginning when you said you’d keep choosing him until tomorrow became yesterday. He flinches a little less now, even managed to press a kiss to your forehead every time you say it.

Eventually you do introduce each other to your families. When Jason mouths I love you best over the head of your twin, it plays to rest lurking doubts you thought had been banished months ago. When you link your arm with his and tell him, I don’t see what’s so great about all your brothers anyway, he barks out an incredulous laugh and squeezes you closer.

[sickandtwisted01]

SIMON “ GHOST “ RILEY x GN CIVI READER

only pronouns used are you!! nicknames ‘lovie’, “pretty little thing”, ‘darling’

Neighbor Simon PT. 1

PURE FLUFFFFF

________________________________

You sit across the man in silence, eyes staring intently at the cards fanned out in your hands. Your gaze scans the cards, then lazily lingers towards Simon. He’s holding a dwindling number of cards in his large hands, staring expectantly at you. There’s a grin pulling at his lips, a rather mocking look swirling around in his eyes as he raises a brow. “Something the matter, lovie?” He almost coos out.

You breathe lightly, grunting gently as you shift in your spot. Your brow crinkles, a soured look crawling onto your features as you rolled your eyes, “Smug prick…” You mutter back under your breath, motioning towards his card deck. “You’ve got to be cheating somehow, Si.” You added with a huff.

“Yeah, or maybe you’re just shit at the game, lovie?” He quips but quickly motions to the deck placed in the middle of you that’s still pretty hefty. “Plus, you’ve got time to bounce back.” He assured, a smile quirking at the edges of his lips as he peers back towards his cards.

You’re sat in the floor, legs curled comfortably underneath your body. You look natural sitting at the coffee table in the middle of Simon’s living room– he, however, does not. His hulking figure hunched over, his lower back flush against the couch, one arm propped over the cushions. He’s always looked large in any context, but he looks like an absolute giant sitting here now. It almost made you laugh when he sat with you, but you were able to hold it in.

There’s a bowl of chips to the left on the coffee table where the cards are, it’s the brand he knows you enjoy– something you weren’t sure you’d fully mentioned. He must’ve figured it out from when you’d first met, in the empty halls of your shared apartment complex at 2:30 in the morning. It was a rather normal night, lazily trudging in from your shift at the bar you worked at. You’d stopped at the corner store that’s about a five minute walk from the complex to get your weekends dinner (four bags of chips, some sodas, ice cream and a whopping three frozen pizzas, one for each day off) in preparation for the first shiftless few days in gods knew how long. You were tired, barely even able to keep your eyes open as you stomped your way down the hallway– even now you’re surprised by the fact that you’d somehow managed to miss and consequently bump into someone as ridiculously massive and loomingly intimidating as Simon.

You’d quite literally crashed into him, a dazed ‘oof’ escaping your lips as the bags in your arms fell. The sounds of crinkling plastic, rustling paper, breaking chips, thudding ice cream against the floor and then his hands reaching out, wrapping around your forearms to stabilize you. You can’t be sure but you’re almost positive you’d blushed as embarrassment blossomed across your features, a stuttering mess as you choked out an apology, a laughed off excuse of, “Oh, shit– I am– I’m so sorry. I just–.. I’m exhausted. I swear I didn’t– honestly, I didn’t even see you, I just– I wasn’t watching where I was going.” You’d laughed out, not even realizing your hands still being on his arms, and his on yours.

He nodded to you, “S’alright. Really.” He’d assured. His touch finally fell from you, eyes shifting your face, “Trust me, faced much worse than a pretty little thing like you runnin’ into me… you’re alright, though?” He’d asked, there was a look of concern on his features, but not a trace of anger.

He’d helped you pick up your items, carry them back home even, told you to watch out and not run into anyone else in the complex and then he mentioned that he lived a floor above you, and that he might see you around. That was… six months ago, roughly. This was the first you’d been in his home– you couldn’t help the way your eyes wondered when you’d first entered the space. How could they not? Simon’s been this sort of… mysterious entity that entered your life and weaved his way in and out of it. You’d see him maybe once a week, twice if you were lucky– always quick, short conversation before he had to make an exit. It’s very… neat, tidy. Not that you’d expected anything less. Your eyes lingered, taking in my surroundings in silence. He has a nice couch, black sectional. His TV sits on a small table that has shelves underneath it, inside are some DVDs, and you think those are…. Maybe photo albums or something like that? He has a bookshelf as well, there’s rows and rows of books. Some of the shelves have a few knicknacks on them, but nothing really stands out. It’s plain, but still cohesive and somehow inviting– it must be the smallest details he added in. The ones that feel like afterthoughts but still aid to the overall comfort of the space, the lamp in the corner of the room that drowns the both of you in this yellowy-orange glow, the throw over the back of the couch and the small pillows on it. The rug underneath us, the essential oil diffuser that lets out the smell of sandalwood and vanilla.

The reality was; despite the six months of knowing him, you really didn’t know much about him but that didn’t change the fact that you felt oddly comfortable with him. The only thing you could guess was that he was military– many people in the building were, the building conveniently close enough to base to become something like home, a cheap place to lay their heads down that wasn’t on base. Simon didn’t offer that information, though and you’d never pressed to ask him. At the start of your friendship with the man, conversations were usually short, not very deep or meaningful but there were quick bits of information you’d told each other that could be considered more than a quick chat. Then, you asked if he wanted to watch a movie with you and time together became more frequent. He started suggesting cards— despite the limited knowledge you had, you said yes.

Your lack of understanding of usual card games was quickly caught on to, and you two had decided that the only logical conclusion was to play Go Fish, instead. Each time one of you ‘got a fish’, so to speak, you were granted a question. Simon had made it a game as a way to satisfy your curiosity about him and you’d just decided to play along, answering his questions, too.

Your eyes scanned your cards, humming gently– your impending failure was sticking in the back of your mind as you thought. “Got any… 4’s?” You questioned, brows raising as your eyes shifted towards Simon’s face.

Simon grunted, shifting in his spot before tossing the card down between you. He was always that way, annoyed that you’d gotten one over on him despite being so far ahead. He watched you, waiting expectantly for your question.

You eyed him for a moment. There was a slightly annoyed look on his features but it dissipated as your gaze swept over him, “Do… you miss home when you’re gone?” You asked hesitantly. The topic of his absences were usually met with, ‘ask something else’, or something along those lines. You knew it was a risky question, but still, you pushed a bit.

Simon thought for a moment, head tilting to one side and then the other as he took a moment of silence. There was something a little bit tenser about this silence than most we shared, “No, I guess not.” He replied simply.

“Really?” You questioned, brows furrowing as you sat up a bit straighter. “You don’t miss home when you’re gone, not even a little bit? You’re gone… all of the time. You never miss home?”

He huffed, shrugging a shoulder loosely as he looked back at his cards, “Guess this doesn’t really feel like home.” His voice holds no emotion, there’s not a twitch in his expression or a look flashing across his face as his eyes shift back to his cards. “Any 7’s?”

I watched intently, studying him as he answered. He gave no indication of anything with the answer— usually, he didn’t. It was hard to read Simon, easy to misinterpret his words or even feel like he wasn’t interested in them. You purse your lips, looking through the cards in your hands. Slender fingers push their way through the cards, manicured nails pinching the edges of the card before pulling it out to place it on the table and slide it across, towards the man sitting opposite of you.

Simon nodded happily at your surrender of the card with a smile as he pulled it closer, stacking it aside. He then looked to you again, thinking for a moment. It was his turn to question now. “Do you miss home?” He questioned, a playful edge to the words– a ‘so there’ subtleness to it..

You grinned, humming gently as you looked down to your hands, brows raising. The fact that you weren’t from the UK was clear– your accent was heavily American but it wasn’t something you’d talked to Simon about. “Ah, got me there, huh?” Your gaze shifted back towards his eyes with a huffed laugh. My lips pursed, brows furrowing lightly, “I… guess so, yeah. Sometimes.” I sighed gently, shoulders lifting a bit. “Didn’t know it’d be so lonely. I mean–... I moved far but… that’s not something you prepare for, I don’t think. How easy it is to slip away from human interaction when you have to make a conscious effort into maintaining it but at the same time.” Your head lifts again, eyes meeting Simon’s as a smile spreads across your lips, “But I also think it’s important to be alone with yourself sometimes… other people can become noise very easily, take you away from what’s important.”

Simon hums gently at your answer, eyes drinking you in. There’s an intenseness to the way he listens– like he’s hanging on every word. He’s silent as you go on your rant, curiosity flashing at your last sentiment “.. And what’s that?”

“To be happy.” You reply simply, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Simon smiles, looking back to his cards to keep himself from staring at you the way he wants to– what a simple philosophy, was the only thing he could think to himself, there was something that screamed innocence about it. The way he actually wanted that for you, the way he wanted something so easy and simple for someone who was already so kind and sweet. “That’s a good way to look at it.” He tells you quietly, unable to keep himself from thinking about the words uttered from those pretty lips of yours. “Do you have any 2’s?” He asks softly.

Your face twists, nose scrunching up as you utter out a defeated, “Go fish” under your breath. You fling your arm out dramatically, yanking a card up to huddled into the bunch in your hand. There’s a look of annoyance at the loss you haven’t even faced yet. Simon studies you for a moment, looking away as he thought of his question to ask.

You watch him, brows raising as he fell silent. His eyes lingered on the table, features even but mind clearly working. He looked like maybe he was contemplating, like he wanted to ask something but wasn’t sure. Slowly, his shoulders relaxed, he shifted a bit as his gaze met yours, “Would you like to go to dinner with me?” He questioned, words even and nonchalant.

You paused, brows furrowing. “What, like–” Your head tilted, blinking heavily as your brows shot up, “You mean like– like a date?”

He nods, chuckling at the confusion blossoming onto your features. The sound booms in his chest, head shaking as he replies, “Mhm, like a date. There’s a nice restaurant we could go to... opened up a few weeks ago, Iv’eard good things about it.” There’s a sort of fizzling at the end of his words, like he’s nervous you might say no.

You smiled, nodding slowly as you took in and settled on the idea of it, “I mean– yeah…. Okay, Simon. That sounds… yes. I’ll go with you to dinner.” You agreed happily, the bubbling of excitement brewing in your stomach as you shifted in your spot a bit.

He smiled back, nodding. “Great… tomorrow, then. I’ll stop by your flat at… 6:45?”

“Sounds good to me.” You told him softly, “I’ll have to wear something extra cute, huh?”

“Wear whatever ‘ya want, darling. You’ll look good in anything… now, let’s get back to the game. I believe I was kicking your ass?”

You glared, scoffing as you rolled your eyes. “Right… whatever… any 9’s?”

[crosscroc2]

uhhh,, just an idea i felt like putting down,,,,,, idk man,,,,,,,, (920 words) (~3-5 min read)

The lamp hesitated into a soft glow, shining timidly amidst the jet black forest of furniture. The light bounced off the mirror and to his wide, blue eyes. The sound of quick, shallow breathing echoed through the dark air.

Right beside the light was the fox, dishevelled from the nightmare that played prior to his awakening. The room remained indiscernible, his eyes far from focused. He could feel his heart racing through his chest.

The vulpine lifted himself off the bed, feet asleep, and stared at his own eyes. Tired and out of his mind at the moment, he zoned out of consciousness for a minute or so before his vision refocused, the buzz under his paw-pads growing clearer. Recalling his mind's late-night movie, he looked down at the source.

The tails were barely functional after his little stunt a few months ago. There was no use for them, not unless he'd actually try to restore them. And why should he? He no longer needs the ability to fly on his own. He has a whole damn spacecraft to his name.

And then, the idea struck through the fuzz and haze. He doesn't need a second tail to fly. He doesn't need the second tail at all.

Hastily wriggling into his gloves and slippers, he padded out of the dark room, through the moonlit hallway, all the way to the workshop. He didn't really notice how loud he was, but it wouldn’t matter, anyway. Tails slept like a baby on most nights. His vision remained varying and inconsistent, accidentally stumbling on the stairs a few times and tripping up on the flat floor.

The fox scurried through the tools, searching for his perfect solution.

Bingo.

He unsheathed the tenon saw from its protective leather case screwed onto the wall.

There was a thin sprinkle of sawdust on its blade. The light of the reflecting moon invaded the workshop and made the steel glisten in his hand. He adjusted his hand to the grip happily, taking in the beauty in front of him.

The kit held one of his tails down, looking down at the pathetic, spindly thing. To be rid of it, his heart leaped at the thought. He tuned out every other sound, every other movement, as a smile cracked through his fur, eyes pinpointing the appendage, raising the saw with a shaky hand, and in a single moment—

Slice.

He looked down, and strangely, his tail was moved out of the way. But something wasn't.

Everything in sound was muffled, like cotton in his ears. On the table, shaking and bleeding, an ungloved hand. The saw had cut through half a wrist. Almost instantly, the realisation hit him like a boulder. He dropped the tenon saw and looked behind him, the kid's eyes wide and panicked. It was Tails.

Without saying a word, he got up from the table. Quickly, he switched on the light, located and opened the first-aid cabinet. The fox set the dark green and white box beside the other's arm. This was usually the part where he left the guy to figure things out himself. He started to walk away, when—

“N-Nine…” a small voice choked out.

Nine's eyes landed back on him then his shaking arm. The wrist was badly cut on the back side, deep enough to raise concern over the bone itself.

You can't perform first-aid well with one arm.

The fox hesitantly sat back down, a lake of guilt pooling up to his ankles and growing bigger with every drop of blood on the table. The lake had the viscosity of tar, dragging him down with every movement he dared make.

“Hold still,” he commanded, less so with authority than wishfully. Nine wrapped his wrist up in bandages and applied pressure for a few minutes.

“I’m…sorry,” Nine hesitated, “I should have seen your hand and stopped.”

“Th-that's not what I'm upset about,” Tails spoke up, his voice hoarse from the pained panic, “why did you try to cut… it off?”

“It's useless-”

“It's a part of you.”

A short pause.

“The worst part. It's caused me no good,” Nine scoffed.

Tails bit the inside of his cheek, unable to counter the fact. Nine finished tending to Tails’ wound, looking at him with sleepless and cold eyes, wrapping the bandages with little gentleness. Tails could notice .

“Wh-why'd you only think of this just now? Did you have a bad dream or something?”

“Mind your own business.” He packed up the kit and went to leave.

“Hey, I'm not leaving you alone after that.” Tails grabbed onto Nine's sleeve with his good hand. “We don't have to talk, I know you don't like talking to me.”

A beat passed.

“Just… let me make sure you don't try anything stupid like that again.”

“It wasn't stupid, it was brilliant!”

Tails wore an exhausted, irritated expression, sighing, “Sure, yeah… ‘brilliant’, as you always are, especially after another 2-hour night of sleep.”

The sarcasm was not received well. “What do you know about genius, Bright Eyes? Aren’t you just a living trail, following Sonic without another damn thought? That’s all you’ve ever been!” The words stung the other fox, clearly upset now. Tails’ brow furrowed a bit, eyes and he left his chair, walking past Nine.

“Must be pretty pathetic to exist being barely a third of a trail.” The remark flung out his mouth, Tails quickly realising his own statement. He looked back immediately, eyes wide and concerned.

Nine was turned away, facing the window.

“Nine, I didn’t mean—”

“Leave.”

No longer was the thought of talking a favourable decision. But with him, Tails took the saw.

———————

i originally set out for this to be hurt/comfort but this angstier route feels better,,,,, ill probably make a comfort part 2 if i get enough notes,,,,,

i haven’t written in a while, so mistakes are inevitable.

[unformula1]

Guilt and Regret (LS2 x OP81)

synopsis: doubts, doubts and more doubts. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ pairing: Logan Sargeant x Oscar Piastri (Loscar) w/c: 1364 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ a/n: it was supposed to be short, but not anymore I guess. i missed a day but man, it's alright. enjoy!!! >>masterlist<< day 10/11 of Loscar posts until we get a loscar podium!!! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Logan Sargeant opens up about his racing life

"I think it's tough. You don't really know what to expect, you lose a lot trying to gain everything."

The article never once mentioned Oscar's name but he knew Logan was referring to him for most of it. How much Logan wanted Oscar again, and how much Oscar didn't give a shit.

"It's a high risk sport, I would say. There's very little room for error but the smallest mistake could cost everything."

"Sometimes you get on the bad side of people you love."

“I mean, losing friends, it’s part of it all”

Oscar almost coughed up his water after reading that. He definitely knew who Logan was referring to.

Oscar wanted to slam his head against a wall. Logan was speaking up about his racing life but all Oscar could think about was Logan's subtle hints toward Logan.

He felt horrible. He felt disgusting. He felt like a failure of a friend.

From someone who promised Logan he'd be there whenever Logan needed, this was pretty shitty of him.

Oscar had let Logan down. Oscar disappointed him. For once it wasn't the other way round, and it took everything Oscar had out of him.

He felt his guilt wash up into his lungs, clogging it up, forcing him to gasp for air constantly. It was drowning him.

He felt the regret engulf his heart, wrapping around it with a tight hug that could kill. It was suffocating.

He turned off his phone, taking a very deep breath. The 5 minute read felt like an eternity of smacks in the face about how much he overlooked his best friend's pain.

Oscar always regarded himself as someone who noticed a lot. He always felt as if he would notice the small details in his friends and remember them forever.

Guess not.

He placed his phone on the bedside table and laid down on his bed, looking up at the hotel room ceiling. Despite being a boring, bland plain white colour, it stood out.

Memories of Oscar and Logan played on the ceiling, like a film, running through the different scenes.

Happiness.

Laughs.

Smiles.

Then it all fell apart. And guess who was to blame...

Oscar shut his eyes tightly, reminiscing for a bit, everything was just so overwhelming. How did a 5 minute article cause him to cry about something he thought he'd gotten over a few months ago.

He'd swore he'd stopped crying about Logan and his relationship months ago. It was supposed to never affect him again, and here he was crying about it once again.

Oscar never regarded himself as sensitive, in fact he was probably the dead opposite, but something about missing Logan always struck something in him.

Everything had to change. Oscar was sure of it, he wasn't sure if Logan even cared anymore, after all the snippets of interviews and quotes he'd read online. Maybe Logan was done trying to repair everything himself, maybe he'd moved on.

Oscar coughed again, choking on the imminent tears, he was a failure of a friend. He wanted Logan as a friend again. He knew that.

"It wasn't up to expectation but I'll keep going!"

Logan's interview played on the big screens. Oscar swore he'd heard this statement a few million times, and every single time Oscar had failed to even ask Logan how he was holding up.

Horrible.

Oscar sprinted over to where the interview was taking place. The sound of Logan's interview still playing in the background.

"I mean, I'll always love doing this no matter what."

Oscar tried his best to tune out the interview but to no avail. It was louder than ever.

"People come and go. I guess that's how it works but I'll try my best always."

There was no way he wasn't referring to Oscar.

He dashed past the personnel and maneuvered his way through the barricades.

"And I mean, things happen..." Logan continued.

Oscar halted to a shrieking stop right next to Logan's interview, causing Logan's voice to falter to silence as he watched Oscar run over.

"Hey Oscar." The interviewer commented.

Oscar tried to catch his breath before saying anything.

Logan just stood there awkwardly, holding the mic as the camera panned over to Oscar.

Oscar shook his head, "No... no sorry for interrupting... keep going." Oscar said in between heavy pants.

"Alright." The interviewer said.

The interview wrapped up pretty quickly after that and the cameras cut.

"Oscar, what happened." Logan asked.

Oscar didn't know if his mind was playing tricks on him but Logan's tone had a piercing lack of sympathy, as if this was just a pointless question that was expecting a dry answer like "I'm okay".

"I'm..." Oscar hesitated. I'm okay. Say it. I'm fine. I am. Nothing's new.

Logan raised an eyebrow, adjusting his shirt as he did so.

"I wanted to talk to you." Oscar forced out, hoping he didn't choke up any words.

"Clearly." Logan joked. Oscar tried to get a laugh but nothing came out.

"Oh. It's a serious kind." Logan cleared his throat, "Shall we go somewhere more private."

When was Logan ever this formal? If this wasn't a hit in the face that Logan didn't care about Oscar anymore, he didn't know what was.

Oscar nodded, before following wherever Logan was bringing him.

They were in a secluded room, away from the press, away from their teams, away from everyone. 

“Go on.” Logan said.

“I… uhm… so…” Oscar stuttered, contemplating his choice of words constantly.

Logan smiled and nodded, signalling for Oscar to continue.

“I saw your article, slash, interview.” Oscar tried to sound less awkward, “And uhm… I… wanted to talk about it.”

Logan nodded, rather excitedly, “You read it? Did I sound too attention seeking? Did I sound ungrateful?”

“No. No… none of that. It was more about me, actually.”

Logan furrowed his eyebrows, the gears clearly shifting in his head.

“Uhm… were you talking about me?” Oscar said. The words vomited out his mouth, coming out quick and swiftly.

“As in?” Logan asked.

“When you said something about losing friends, getting on their bad side. I don’t know, vaguely something like that.” Oscar’s voice came out unnatural, as if he was muffling a few cries. 

“Oh…” Logan’s head lowered, his feet shuffled a little, “Maybe…? A little?”

“What does that mean?” Oscar practically started begging, “Please. I need to know. I’m sorry if I’ve ever been such a horrible friend but please. I need to know if you hate me or something.”

Logan was about to say something when Oscar interrupted.

“Maybe you don’t want to talk to me ever again but I promise you, just say how you feel about me and I’ll never be in your business again. Please. PLEASE.” Oscar blabbered, “Oh shit, I interrupted you. Sorry. Fuck. Sorry.”

A small, tiny smile crept onto Logan’s face. A small chuckle escaping.

Oscar was confused, obviously. He tilted his head to the side.

“Osc. I thought I was the one messing up here. I thought I wasn’t doing good enough for you. I really thought I was the issue here.” Logan said.

“Really. Well because- wait. No. You thought you weren’t doing good enough?” Oscar said, “you thought YOU weren’t doing good enough for me?” 

Logan sheepishly nodded.

“Logan, you'll always be enough for me. Always.” Oscar remarked, rather sassily.

“Okay well, you’ve never been a horrible friend. I thought I was just… never living up to being your friend. You’ve been nothing but the best.” Logan admitted, smiling a little wider.

Oscar dragged an ‘ugh’ for a few seconds.

“This was so stupid.” Oscar said, “God… you’re amazing Logan.”

“You are too. The best, probably.” Logan said as he pulled Oscar in for a hug, which Oscar reciprocated.

Both of them stayed like that for a while. It’s been a while since Oscar had felt anything as good as this. The warmth filled his entire body.

It unclogged his lungs from all the guilt as Logan’s words resounded through his head.

It released all the regret from his heart, knowing Logan was never going to give up on Oscar, ever.

[masked-watcher]

More Than That

Words: 4.5k

Pairing: Soap x Ghost

Warnings: None apply

Tags: Fluff, confessions, awkward men trying to talk to each other

Artist: aiden.lydia on Instagram

Soap and Ghost were in a bar, a little tired after a long day. Sitting by themselves, not talking to anyone in particular- just drinking. Without realizing, Johnny catches himself staring at him. Ghost looks over, meeting his eyes and cocking his head to the side a bit.

“You’ve been staring MacTavish.”

Soap freezes a little, not aware he's been so obvious. Then giving him a lopsided smirk. "Sorry L.T... Just been a while since we did something outside of a mission."

The older man chuckles. “I feel ya. Sometimes the stress of doing your damn job needs a good release. Speaking of… What’s that you got?” He points at his drink. The scotsman laughs, taking a sip.

"Whiskey, feels at least a little like home." The younger one smirks and nods to the others glass. "Next one's on me."

“Sure, I’ll take you up on that. I’ll have the same.”

He signals to the bartender, who pours Ghost a glass of golden, honey like liquid, which he accepts with a slight nod.

" 's pretty nice to hang around with ya Ghost. Missed that. Missed my buddy." Soap grins before taking another swig. The banter between them, especially over comms, has gotten more intense lately. Their last mission just a few days ago was... something. They made it out alive, obviously. But for a while things started to look grim. At least they had each other to listen to.

Soap catches himself staring again before looking away. Letting his gaze drift over the other people in the bar.

“I’ll drink to that. I missed it too, Soap.” He pauses, and finishes his beer in a matter of seconds before shifting his attention to the newly acquired drink. “The last mission was… A real clusterfuck. Bloody hells, I thought we were done for, for a minute there.”

"Was worried for a second but-" The scotsman looks down at his glass, smiling softly. "I knew I'd be safe with you looking out for me." With that, his eyes find their way to Ghost's. Blue meeting brown. And they stay like that for a moment. Just for a heartbeat. Until the masked man gives a little grunt of confirmation, taking the small glass of whiskey, slowly nursing it down. He relaxes a little as the drink settles in.

“Not like I wouldn’t be worried about your ass too. You may be a hell of a soldier…” He grins under his mask, the only thing visible being the crinkle of his eyes. “But you’re dumb as a sack of bricks outside a firefight.”

"Oi!" Soap protests and jokingly punches him on the shoulder. "I got dem street smarts aye? You'd be done for if I didn't contribute my quick thinkin' and I ain't not scared of a little... boom." He underlined the last part with a wiggle of his brows. The older one gives a short bark of laughter, almost choking on his drink for a moment.

“I always know you’ve got my back, Johnny.” He pauses, taking in the atmosphere for a moment. “It’s good to have a few minutes to relax. And not have to worry about getting shot at.” He glances at his sergeant for a moment, but doesn’t pursue that thought further before taking a generous swig of his booze. His throat slightly burns.

Soap flashes him a toothy grin before nipping at his own, almost empty glass. Leaning a little forward on the bar stool, supporting his head on his hand, propped up on the countertop. "Yea... These moments are rare. So I really wanna enjoy them to the fullest while they last."

“I hear that.” The Lieutenant pauses, taking in the sounds and smells of the bar. He glances at his company again for a moment, before turning back and staring at his whiskey. “You know, you’re different without the gear on, Soap.” He says it in a matter of fact way. Not necessarily a diss, but the truth. “You’re almost… Normal.”

Another grin spreads on the scots lips as he looks down once more. Voice soft and almost murmuring. "Kinda sounds like a bad thing when you say it..." He wasn't completely serious. But it got him thinking.

“Not at all, Johnny.” Ghost shifts his position slightly, and looks at him again. "What I meant was… Outside of a mission or the field, you relax… you have a softer side. You’re not a robot." Not like me. But he keeps that thought to himself, leaning back against his bar stool. "And... You still get a little nervous talking to females." A slight eyebrow raise from Soap. "In all fairness, so do I."

Soap snorts, shaking his head. "Dunnae wat ya mean. I got the rizz baby. Could snatch me any woman I want from here." Of course he is confident. And as he emptied his golden liquor, maybe also a slight bit tipsy. Just adding to his boldness. Ghost watches him, raising a brow as he boasts about his "rizz".

“I saw you try and flirt with that waitress, Soap. I saw the way she shot you down.” He tries not to snicker, but it’s a lost cause. “You’re gonna need a lot more work with the ‘rizz’ before you ‘snatch’ any woman from here.”

"Pff, that was nothin'. She shot me down cause she was into women herself. Here, watch this." Soap cracks his knuckles and hops from the stool. Making his way towards a woman leaning against a wall, drinking. He proceeds to talk to her, trying to impress her with his military position and attempting to buy her a drink. But she turns him down; very quickly.

With a little pout he returns back to Ghost, slumping onto the stool once more and immediately ordering a new drink for himself. Ghost watched his fruitless efforts to flirt, not even bothering to hide his amusement. “Damn, soldier… You’re worse than I thought.” He takes a last sip of his drink. “I mean… Did you really think that girl was going to be head-over-heels for a soldier?” He chuckles. It is low and vibrating. Rumbling in his chest. A rare sound but even more treasured that way whenever Soap got to hear it. “You may be a hell of a soldier, Soap, but your ‘rizz’ could use some work… Or maybe some new lines. And new moves.”

Now the younger one takes a sip and looks at him, raising his slitted eyebrow. "Oh yea? As if you know anything about flirting. But now I'm curious. Lemme hear your best line or move. Come on." He again wiggles his brows and grins at him.

His lieutenant looks him over for a moment. “The trick… Is confidence.” He shrugs, as if that should be obvious. “If you’re gonna hit on a girl…” He pauses and smirks. “Be straight up. Honest. Don’t try and charm her or hit her with some cheesy ass ‘slick’ line.” He rolls his eyes, shaking his head. “Just be you, Soap.”

"Just be me? Hasn't worked recently to be honest. I'm not all that great." He chuckles, a little self deprecating perhaps. He slowly starts to feel the alcohol. Averting his gaze.

The older man watches him and frowns slightly, setting his drink down. He shifts his position a little bit, leaning on the counter, as if trying to get a little closer to him. “Johnny, don’t doubt yourself. You’re a good man. And any girl out there would be lucky to be with you.” He pauses and sets his elbow down on the counter, resting his head on his hand. “What’s your problem with the ladies anyway? You are never like this when we are in the field.” Maybe the intentions of this question are a little selfish. What answer exactly did Ghost hope for?

Soap chuckles before he looks up at him. Smirking. "Yea well, on the field it's you and me. The banter is easy with you. Just comes natural, ya know?" Ghost looks at him for a moment, trying to gauge how much the alcohol has affected him. “Yeah… I get that. But even off the field. You were always so… Charismatic. Flirtatious, to some extent too. Remember the time when we were stationed in Eastern Europe?" He pauses, his eyes drifting slightly, as if in thought. He glances at him again, meeting his eyes. “The way you were with those locals… You practically flirted with every woman we met.”

Johnny still had that smirk on his lips, nodding as he remembers that time. He did manage to score, spending some nights off base. He mumbles into his drink as he takes another swig. "Maybe my priorities have changed over time..."

“...Maybe.” Ghost wasn't sure what kind of answer that was, still looking at him thoughtfully. “What happened? You used to be like Casanova. Hell, you probably had half of the town wrapped around your finger.” He pauses, then sighs as if something has just occurred to him. “Come to think of it… You never do talk about women much anymore, do you?”

"Ah, s'pose I haven't. Didn't even notice, haha." The scotsman empties the glass, not immediately ordering a replacement. After all, he didn't want to get wasted so it was time for a short break. He fully turned to look at his lieutenant. "You never really do either. I don't think I ever really heard you talk about any relationship. Not interested right now L.T.?"

Ghost looks slightly surprised when he brings that up but quickly recovers. He shrugs, trying to play it cool- trying to appear nonchalant. “I mean… The work we do… We’re not exactly the ideal men to settle down with, now are we?” He pauses. “So nah, I haven’t really thought about it. Besides, I’m always moving around anyway.” He then smirks, looking at Soap. “What about you? Still no one back home waiting for you?”

"Guess you're right 'bout that..." He sighs, a little lost in thought. Circling his finger around the rim of his empty glass. "Kinda miss someone by my side tho... It does get lonely sometimes. With just your mind keeping you company at night. Not the best type either."

The masked man watches him quietly as he contemplates. It was different to see him in a situation not completely under control. Not exactly a bad thing, seeing him vulnerable like this. It’s humanizing. “Missin' someone after all?" He shifts on his stool again, his voice quieter; it was as if it took effort for him to ask that. He waits for the answer, eyes on Soap the whole time. Who shakes his head, smiling softly.

"Ah, no. No one in particular." Finally he lifts his head to lock eyes with him. Looking at his gaze through his mask. Holding it maybe a bit too long. But the older one stares back just as intense. Perhaps too intense. He doesn’t even flinch, but there was a slight edge to the way the air felt between them both. Neither of them were breaking eye contact, almost as though they were challenging each other. When he finally spoke up, Ghost's voice was softer than usual; a lot of the usual banter and sarcasm gone.

“That’s nice to hear. Maybe we’re not so different after all.”

Johnny's eyes flicker but he quickly recovers. Slowly and surely, a light blush began to spread across his cheeks. "Maybe not..." Okay to hell with it. He signaled the bartender he needed a beer. He couldn't do that whole feelings talk so effortlessly. Ghost watches him and doesn't say anything. He looks back down at his own drink, nursing it slowly now. An odd, tense silence settling between the two of them. He takes in Soap's features for a moment, out of the corner of his eye; the way his mohawk curls around the back of his neck when it got too long, his piercing blue eyes rivaling the clear summer sky, strong facial structure adorned by a slight beard. His eyes flicker to his lips for a moment, before he shakes his head quickly and looks back down at his drink. He takes in another sip, his blush only worsening.

"Hey L.T. Wanna bail after this?" Soap's lips curve into a soft smile. Ghost glances back at him, almost surprised he asks. But he slowly nods and the younger one finishes his pint with a few big gulps. “Hell… Yeah, you read my mind. I was about to ask the same.” He rises to his feet, offering him a slight grin that is only noticeable through the movement of his eyes. “Let’s get out of here, Soap.”

The cold night air immediately hits them. It is refreshing, waking them up again slightly. Soap takes a short moment to close his eyes and inhales. Then looking up at his company besides him. "Alright, let's head back to base." The taller man stares out at the night, taking in the view before nodding. There’s a slight hint of relief on his face as he suggests heading back to the base. “I could use some rest anyway. It’s been a long day.”

Ghost starts to walk, heading to the alleyway back towards the base. His steps are steady and deliberate, almost robotic. As if his mind is completely absent from the present; his thoughts somewhere else. He gestures at his sergeant to come along, not slowing his pace, who quickly scrambles after him until they are walking side by side. It would take them a bit until they arrive. But that was fine, he didn't mind.

"...I had fun today. Thanks, Simon." He quietly spoke into the night, looking straight ahead. His hands in his pockets. He could see his breath forming in little clouds.

Simon stares ahead, eyes seemingly unfocused despite his words. His face remains unreadable, but his body language eases subtly; the tension dissipating as he continues walking beside him. He likes it when Soap uses his name. Likes that he was the only one daring to do so. The only one Ghost allows to. “Me too, Johnny.” His voice is soft, almost too quiet to be heard. His eyes flicker towards him for a moment, then they quickly return to staring ahead, as if he hadn’t heard his reply. Johnny notices the way Ghost's eyes scan his surroundings constantly, the way his footsteps never falter or stumble. Despite everything else, Ghost was a soldier above all.

They continue to walk in silence for a while. But the little chatterbox just couldn't shut his mouth. The alcohol loosening his tongue further. He smiled faintly. "Shame there's this unspoken rule in the force..."

That brought attention to his lieutenant. “Which is?” He speaks without looking at him, but he sounds intrigued. The conversation has broken him out of his reverie of quiet thought earlier and he’s not trying to hide it. His gaze turns to Soap, his eyes seemingly a bit sharper than usual as he stares at him intently. His footsteps haven’t slowed whatsoever in the time it took for him to say that. It’s almost as if his body is on autopilot; every motion as smooth and precise as his stride.

"No dating within the squad." He tries to match his pace. Looking up at the same moment his eyes fall on him. Another lopsided grin of Soap before he averted his gaze back to the front. There's not much more he had to say right now. One could practically hear Simon blink at those words. His expression softens when he looks at him again, as if he’s still reeling from what he just said. After a moment, he smirks and shrugs.

“It’s an unspoken rule, sure. But…” He pauses, looks at Johnny again. His expression is still relaxed but there���s more to it than before. A certain intensity, almost. “…I’d break it."

"Would you now?" The scotsman snickers and raises an eyebrow at him. Not sure if he was all that serious. Would he just break it in general or did he actually play with that thought right now? His eyes dart between his, trying to figure out what exactly he meant.

Ghost stares back at him. Letting the question hang in the air. His gaze holds Soap's for a bit longer before he takes in a deep breath; fogging up a bit as he breathes into the cold night air. “I know the rule exists for a reason… Can’t have soldiers be distracted by ‘love’ in the middle of an operation. No tension or drama on base, between mates. No clouding of decision making.” His voice was quieter than usual. “But… We’re not on any major mission anymore.”

He looks ahead again. “There’s nothing stopping us.”

Soap's eyes still linger on his mask. Did he hear that right? Nothing stopping them? After a few beats of silence, his head turns as well. Eyes staring straight forward. Voice equally quiet and tender. "Mhm, I suppose not..." His hand closest to the tall man slides out of his jacket pocket. Just hanging by his side, trembling slightly. Is he really all that nervous right now? One can almost hear his breath catch in his throat. There’s so much tension in the air, as if every minor movement, every word is a potential match to ignite the spark of something more. He’s waiting, searching for a sign.

His footsteps slow to a stop and for a while, it’s just the sound of them both breathing.

“…”

His voice is a whisper now, as if he’s worried someone will hear him. “Soap… Can I ask you something?”

He notices his pace slowing, coming to a halt just slightly ahead of him. Turning to face him and looking up at his mask. His brows furrow at his question. He seemed so serious, yet... uncertain. "Anything L.T. What is it?" While speaking he took a step closer to him.

“I…“ Simon stops himself. As if reconsidering whether to ask what’s on his mind. He sighs slightly, his gaze on him, voice so soft even the gentle sounds of the city and environment around them seems to be muted somehow. “Nevermind. Forget it.”

A second passes by… And then he speaks again.

”No, wait…”

He shakes his head, as if trying to clear his mind. It’s like watching a person in the middle of an internal struggle.

"Simon..." Soap sees the struggle in his eyes. His hand lands on his friends upper arm in a reassuring gesture. Lightly squeezing it. "It's okay... No pressure, relax..."

Ghost glances down at the hand on his arm, staring at it for a moment. As if the slightest bit of human contact can cause him to become overwhelmed with emotion. His other hand reaches out, placing it on top of Johnny's. And then… he’s pulling himself into you. Soap knows from experience how careful and meticulous this man usually is with everything he does. Yet, right now, as he leans into him… He seems almost vulnerable. An awkward moment of silence stretches between both. Simon's gaze meets his again, his eyes searching for something. Soap wraps his arms around him. Embracing him in a hug. It was rare he accepted such close contact. Let alone initiate it. For a long while he actually was the only one allowed to physically touch him. With time he opened up to Price as well, who mostly gave out pats on the back. And Gaz with his fist bumps and side hugs.

Soap leans into him. His arms barely able to completely fit around him. He closes his eyes, enjoying the warmth as he didn't notice before how cold it actually has gotten. Ghost's arms come around him as well, his embrace firm and secure. Their bodies molding against each other. Ghost takes in a deep breath and the other can feel his chest rise and fall ever so slightly against him. His expression is a mess of emotions.

The tall man remains silent, content to just hold Soap in his arms for a while. A soft sigh escaping his lips.

“Johnny…”

That’s all he says, and there’s a lot implied in that one word.

"Simon..."

His name comes out as a whisper. Not wanting to break much of the silence. The world around them seems to freeze as snow slowly begins to fall and settle on the ground, trees, park benches. Being illuminated by the street lamp they stood under and pale moonlight peeking through the clouds. Soap leans backwards ever so slightly. Tilting his head to look up at Ghost. How tiny snowflakes get caught on his pale lashes. Being almost hypnotized by his eyes. His half lidded gaze. One of his hands rises to brush away some of the snowflakes that had gathered on Johnny's face. The other remains around him. A quiet moment passes, as they both just stand there together, enjoying the company. The snow falling around them. Ghost glances down at him for a moment and he can feel his gaze lingering on his lips. His mind races, wondering what he’s looking at. Or thinking. Then realizing. He could kiss him right now and maybe he wants to.

Both of Soap's hands slowly come up to his face, trembling. Fingers tracing the edge of his balaclava. "...May I?"

Simon stares at the hands as he raises them to his face. His expression is completely unreadable through his mask. The sergeant's heart races, adrenaline surging through his veins. He wants to do it. Why is he waiting for him? Just do it. Just…

As if reading his thoughts, Ghost slowly nods, his expression becoming more tender. "....Go ahead." His voice is a soft whisper, barely audible under the sounds of the snow and wind outside. Soap's fingers run along the edge of his balaclava once more, feeling the rough material and warm skin beneath. He takes his time, slowly sliding it up. He didn't push his luck though by overstepping any boundaries. Moving it just up to his nose. Revealing his jawline and lips. He can see how pale his complexion is, in a stark contrast to his own more tanned skin. Blue eyes wander over some faded and some deeper scars. His thumb lightly stroking over the bottom half of his cheek, the corner of his mouth. His lips are full and slightly pink. Johnny's fingers can feel the soft, warm breath against them. He was beautiful.

His gaze trails to the older man's eyes once more. As if silently asking for yet another permission. To see if this really was okay. Their eyes meet and Ghost stares at him with intensity. There is no need to ask for permission anymore. He’s looking at him with nothing but tenderness and longing.

Soap swallows, nervousness eating at him. His heart beating faster against his ribcage. Stomach twisting and turning. Instead of pulling his wide frame towards him, he gets on his tiptoes. Just a little. Enough for his lips to meet Simon's who leans down slightly. It only takes a few seconds for him to fully adapt to the height difference between them. Strong arms tighten around him. As if holding him tight enough will stop him from ever going away again. As if he never wants to let him go. As his big arms hold him close, he could've melted in an instant. He feels safe. Finally at home.

Ghost kisses him with an urgency that might’ve been reserved for life-or-death situations. Not the love and tenderness he’s showing now. Soap's eyes flutter close immediately. Giving into the moment completely. Enjoying his surprisingly soft, plush lips on his. The faint taste of beer still lingering on them. Mixed with his very own note. Simon's lips part ever so slightly and his own follow suit. His tongue flicks against his in an experimental gesture, as if testing the water. He gently pulls Soap in closer, his arms holding him tighter. And the sergeant's arms are now wrapped around Ghost's neck. Holding onto him just as much as he pressed close. He feels safe with him, in ways that words couldn't possibly describe. Their kiss deepens, becoming passionate and aggressive. Tongues exploring inside each other's mouths, teeth grazing against lips. Their breathing is quick, ragged. Barely able to hold themselves back anymore. Senses clouded not only by the booze from earlier but now with so many more sensations. It is intoxicating.

His tongue moves against Johnny's quickly. It feels like his passion is increasing with each passing second. Like something inside of him has broken free, releasing all of the pent-up emotions he’s been storing within himself. The embrace becomes more forceful; pressing their bodies together tightly. Soap begins to feel dizzy, almost overwhelmed by the rush of sensations running through his body. And then, Ghost pulls away from him gently… Slowly, reluctantly, letting go. His breathing slows a bit, though his chest is still heaving as if he’d been running a marathon.

Soap immediately takes a deep breath as well. Looking up at him as his eyes open again. Chest moving rapidly, lips curling into a grin. He lets a few moments pass before whispering. "You know... I think I'm okay with breaking rules here and there..."

Simon smiles warmly, his expression a complete contrast to the intense way he was just looking at him a moment ago. He still holds that loving gaze but now he seems like he’s content in the present moment; as if nothing else in the world matters. He even relaxes his grip, letting a hand slip off of him for a moment. “I second that...” His voice is softer now, the husky tone gone away. He lets his eyes trail towards Soap's mouth again, his hand slides back onto his cheek. Stroking it tenderly.

The smaller man lowers his balaclava again. Neatly tucking it back into the collar of his shirt. Patting his chest with a grin. "Freezing my butt off out here. Let's get movin'. I think we have the whole night to talk about a few things... And who knows..." He takes Ghost's skeleton gloved hand into his own as he starts walking again, dragging him along. His lieutenant chuckles slightly and allows him to take his hand. He nods as he lets him lead the way. The snow falling, the city sleeping… It’s all so peaceful.

Simon remains silent for a while, watching his sergeant walk in front of him. He seems like a different person now; the soldier who could barely show any emotion, who spoke in short, curt sentences and kept himself closed off, is now replaced with a man who smiles like a boy who’s gotten everything he wanted this christmas.

He still looks at Soap with tenderness, though his eyes are now filled with love.

Simon Riley was a human with emotions after all. He was more than the murderous beast the military made of him. He was more than The Ghost.

But most importantly.

Simon Riley was in love with John MacTavish

[sissylittlefeather]

How the Web Was Woven: Chapter 3

A/N: Buckle in, folks. Shit's about to get real. Once again, this is the time travel/soulmate AU with Elvis and a fem!reader. Prepare yourselves, friends.

Special thanks to @ccab for always being my beta, to @elvisfatass for always being my support, and this time to @tacozebra051 for encouraging me to post this, even when I almost chickened out.

Need to catch up? Here's my Masterlist.

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, ANGST, ANGST, AND MORE ANGST, talk of death, grief, etc. Also kissing, cussing, p in v penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie (I promise this is not a smut fest. I tried to make it very tasteful- the sex has a purpose. You'll see why.). But also so much angst and sadness.

Word count: ~2.7k

You jump up and walk slowly towards the portal, your heart beating wildly in your chest...

******

The house is eerily silent and all you can hear is muffled sobs. Thank God you wore a dress that you bought at a vintage shop and not your typical jeans and t-shirt. Although, for the past year, you've been casually wearing clothing from the '50s just in case you stumbled across a portal.

It doesn't take you long to find him. In fact, you damn near trip over him. He's in the same corner of the house you were in, curled up and crying, clutching what looks like a woman's nightgown. Your mind races.

Gladys.

You're exactly 50 years in the past and Gladys Presley died two days ago.

You crouch down and try to approach him slowly. You don't want to scare him. You reach out and gently put a hand on his shoulder. He looks up at you and his mouth drops open.

"Y/n. You're here?"

"I'm here." He grabs you and wraps his arms around your waist, head on your chest as he continues to sob.

"My mother..." He tries to choke out an explanation.

"Shhh, no, I know. You don't have to say it." He cries for a few more minutes and then it dawns on him. He pulls back and his face has changed from abject sorrow to unmitigated rage.

"You know? You knew this was going to happen!" He pushes you away from him.

"Elvis I-"

"You knew and you said NOTHING." Tears start to stream down your face.

"I couldn't say anything. I couldn't tell you."

"BULLSHIT. You could've said something. Anything. So that I could've done something. Or at least spent more time with her. God, how could you?" Your shoulders shake as your tears hit the floor. There's so much venom in his words.

"I'm so sorry. I'm so so sorry."

"Just get out."

"Elvis, where am I going to go? The portal is closed. I'm stuck here."

"That's your problem."

"Please." He looks up at you and the depth of his pain is evident on his face. You cup his cheeks in your hands. "I can't change what's in the past. You matter to the world, Elvis. Anything I tell you might ruin that. I know you're in pain right now, but I think you'll understand that when you're not." He nods, so you keep going. "Do you think I wanted to keep this from you? That I wanted to let you hurt like this? Do you know how badly I wanted to save you from this? How hard it was for me to know this was going to happen and be powerless to stop it? I'm here, somehow. This is the best gift I can give you. I'm here to be with you through it. God, I'm so sorry." You press him against your chest again and both of you sob together as you hold him.

You sit like this for a long time, not even noticing exactly how long. Eventually, Elvis falls asleep against you like a spent child and you continue to sit on the floor with him. When one of the maids finds you, she's shocked because she has no idea who you are or how you got there.

"Young lady, who are you?"

"I'm y/n, Elvis's friend from Tupelo." You pray that lie will be enough. Elvis stirs awake when he hears you talking.

"She's my girlfriend. I called her earlier and she came over. Don't worry about it." The maid nods her head skeptically and goes back to doing whatever she was doing. He looks up at you.

"My back is killing me. Come up to my room and we'll get in bed."

"Nobody will ask questions?"

"This is my damn house. They can kiss my ass." As you make your way upstairs with him, your mind wanders back to him referring to you as his girlfriend. If only.

******

You wake up together tangled in sheets and each other. He holds you close to him and kisses your forehead.

"I'm sorry I yelled at you yesterday." He whispers.

"No, it's okay. I would be mad too."

"You really can't tell me anything?"

"I really can't. It might jeopardize too many things. And besides, I know that I won't because the future is what it is."

"That makes my head hurt."

"Yeah, it's complicated." You lay in silence for a little while, arms wrapped around each other. Finally, he speaks.

"I am glad you're here. I've missed you a lot over the past year."

"I missed you too. I've been looking for you everywhere, going to places you performed and all kinds of stuff. I can't believe I found you here."

"Well, I live here."

"I know, but I've been here three times in the last year. I never found a portal." You lay there together for a bit not saying anything. Finally, he speaks again.

"I like your dress." He looks over at the black and white polka dotted garment where you laid it over a chair in his room. You're wearing one of his pajama tops now.

"Thanks. I bought it at a vintage shop."

"That's funny." He almost laughs, but then it's like a shadow passes over him. "I'm sorry I can't be like I was."

Your heart breaks because you know he'll never be quite like that again. He's lost his jovial innocence and even when he's happy later on, there'll always be a small piece of him missing.

"It's okay, Elvis. You're allowed to hurt." He rolls away from you and starts to cry again. You pull on his shoulder gently until he rolls back and you hold him again as he sobs. As he does, you run your fingers through his hair and notice how much shorter it is. Then, you remember that he's been drafted and will have to leave soon. What will you do when he goes? Hopefully, you'll find a portal before then.

He cries until he seemingly can't anymore and then he just lays on your chest trying to breathe.

"What should we do today?" You ask, your stomach rumbling.

"Can we just stay here and do this today?"

"You want to stay in bed?"

"Yeah."

"We can do whatever you want. But I'm gonna need some food." He looks up at you and gives you a small smile.

"Come with me." He gets out of bed and wraps you in his robe. Then, he takes you down to the kitchen, where one of the ladies that works there is doing some dishes.

"My girl is hungry. What do we have to eat in this house?"

"Breakfast or lunch?" You look at your watch. It's almost noon. You didn't realize you slept that long.

"Lunch, I guess?" You look up at him and he nods.

"Sandwiches?" You've read about the sandwiches Elvis eats. You're not sure you're ready to go there.

"Yes, but just peanut butter and bananas for me please."

"How did you... you know what kind of sandwiches I eat?" You smile awkwardly and he shakes his head incredulously.

The woman laughs and starts gathering the ingredients for the sandwiches.

You sit at the table talking while you eat and his mood seems to have improved a little bit. He still doesn't smile, though. When you finish, he grabs your hand.

"Better, honey?"

"Much better. Back to bed?"

"Yes please."

The woman who made the sandwiches raises her eyebrows at your suggestion, but Elvis doesn't notice or doesn't care. You make your way back up the stairs together and barely make it into his room before he falls apart again. He sinks to the floor and you hold him and rock him gently.

You manage to get him back into the bed and he settles against you while you stroke his hair and hum lullabies and gospel songs. He spends most of the day like this in your arms crying on and off. Any time you try to move, he pulls you closer and begs you to stay where you are, so you do. Luckily, the other people in the house seem to know how upset he is, so no one disturbs you. Aside from the maids who know you're there, they probably just think he's in his room alone.

When evening comes, he looks up at you from his place on your chest. It's been about an hour since his last crying spell.

"I think I want to take a shower."

"Okay, that's good."

"I have a headache from crying. I think it'll help."

"I'm sure it will."

"Will you come with me?"

"You want me to sit in the bathroom while you shower?" You're willing to do almost anything for him at this point. It kills you to see him in so much pain.

"I want you to get in the shower with me."

"Elvis, I don't know if that's a good idea."

"Please, y/n. I need you. I just don't want to be alone." His eyes well up again, so you agree quickly.

"Okay. Whatever you need. I'm here." He nods and slowly gets out of bed, pulling you with him. You start the water and he just stands there, so you go to him and help him undress. Once he's naked, you take off your own clothes and then get in the shower together.

The water runs down both of you as he wraps himself around you and cries again, big sobs this time.

"God, why?" He groans into your hair.

"Only He knows." You whisper back, praying that's a decent response. It seems to satisfy him a little because he stands up and nods.

"I'm sorry." He looks down at his feet.

"Elvis, please stop apologizing. I am here for anything. I love you." His eyes snap up to yours and he seems to be searching your face. All the pain and all the grief pause for just a moment as he thinks about what you just said.

"You love me?"

"Of course I do. I should've told you before you left last time." He leans down and presses his lips against yours softly.

"I love you too, y/n. Please don't leave me." You wrap your arms around his waist and lay your head on his chest. You can't stay here forever. Or can you?

You feel his body quake as he begins to cry again, so you pull away from him and get a washcloth. Once it's soapy, you gently run it over him, cleansing him in a ritual of service and love. When his body is clean, you get some shampoo and massage it into his hair. He leans back into the water and rinses it out. You notice that he's stopped crying for the moment as he reaches for the shampoo.

"Can I wash your hair?"

"Oh, um, sure, if you want to." He nods and begins to massage shampoo into your hair. Trading places with you under the water, he leans your head back and rinses your hair under the shower head. When you stand back up, he kisses your forehead.

"Thank you. You're a nice distraction." He puts his hand on your neck and runs his thumb over your lips. He seems to notice for the first time that you're naked.

Your body is beautiful and even through his pain he can appreciate it. His hand trails down your chest to your hip.

"We should get out." You realize what's happening and decide it's probably time to put your clothes back on.

"Please, y/n. Let me make love to you."

"Oh, Elvis, I-"

"Please, I just want to feel something." He whispers as he kisses down your neck. He comes back to your mouth and kisses you lovingly, his tongue grazing yours gently. He whispers again.

"Please."

"Okay." You nod. If this is what he needs, you're not going to deny him. And it's not like you don't want it too. He kisses you more deeply and uses both hands to pull your hips into his, pressing his erection into your lower stomach. Bending his knees slightly, he lifts one of your legs and enters you slowly. Once he's fully pushed into you, he groans softly.

The intimacy of this moment, with the water streaming down your body and his connection with you undeniable, washes over him and he loves you completely. When he moves in and out of you, it's not driven by lust, but by a need to feel as close to you as possible. He has wrapped you around him like a much-needed security blanket and every thrust brings you closer together. Everywhere your skin touches is an opportunity for shared pleasure and he needs it so badly.

You whimper softly with the sensation of him pushing inside you so gently. You've never made love like this before and there's a softness to it that fills you with affection for him. Your arms are wrapped around his neck and you pepper him with small kisses on his face.

The weight of your connection is not lost on either of you as you move together. He begins to pump with a little more speed and you know he's approaching the inevitable end. Neither of you wants the moment of closeness to expire, but you know that it must.

When the end does come, he moans softly and tangles his fingers in your hair, kissing you with every ounce of passion in his body. He lowers your leg carefully, pulling out of you gently and pressing his forehead to yours.

"I love you. I love you with all of me." Tears come to both of you, mixing with the water that's still running down your bodies.

"I am yours, Elvis." He kisses you again and pulls you close to him, reaching behind you to turn the water off. You open the shower curtain and step out and he wraps both of you in a large towel. You're so wrapped up in each other that you don't even notice it.

It's not until you almost step through it that you see the portal.

"No!" He says it loudly when he realizes what it is. You turn and grab him tightly.

"I don't wanna go."

"Then don't. Stay here with me forever."

"Elvis, you know I can't." You're both crying frantically now.

"You can't leave me here like this without you."

"I don't have a choice!"

"There's always a choice!"

"No. I know what your future is and it isn't me. It can't be me."

"I can't lose you too." His voice is so thick with emotion as you run into his room and dress quickly. He stands and stares at you, tears streaming down his face. You walk to him and hold his face in your hands.

"You're not losing me. You'll never lose me. I will find you again. Or you find me. We've done it twice now. I believe we can do it again."

"If I find you, I'm not leaving."

"Don't say that."

"Goddammit, y/n, why is this happening to us?!"

"I don't know! But I'm so glad it is." You choke on the last part of the sentence and he holds you so tightly it's almost hard to breathe.

"I love you." He kisses the top of your head.

"I love you too, but I have to go." He releases you and kisses your mouth again.

"I will find you. I promise." You nod and walk away from him towards the bathroom, half hoping that the portal has closed.

But it hasn't. The air is still wavy and the buzzing sound fills the small room. He stands in the doorway naked with the towel wrapped around his waist. You give him one last sad smile and walk through.

He sinks to the floor and weeps. How will he survive this without you?

******

You're back in the corner of Graceland where you found the first portal. Your hair is wet and wild and you're crying and a tour guide is shocked to come upon you in such a state. Still, she's found weirder things in the mansion, so she gently escorts you out of the house. When you finally get back to your car, you sit in the driver's seat and cry hysterically. How will you find him again?

******

Please come back for Chapter 4!

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Taglist:

@ccab @elvisfatass @elvisalltheway101 @aliypop @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @ashtag6887 @your-nanas-house @deniseinmn @joshuntildawn13 @lookingforrainbows @60svintage @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69 @that-hotdog @tacozebra051

[callsign-jinx]

Everyone's favorite Fanboy | M.F.G

Pairing: Mickey "Fanboy" Garcia x fem!reader

word count: 1.3k

Request: “My teammates gets annoyed because I talk about you 24/7”. Tell me this doesn't scream Fanboy...cause that's his literally his callsign 🤣

A/N: It took me FOREVER to write this, I'm still working on the requests and I'll post them aLL I SWEAR

Warnings: all the fluuuuuuuuuuuffs

If you want to be added to my forever TGM tag list, let me know.

Mickey is a fan of many things. Hence, his call sign. He's a fan of Star Trek, Marvel, video games, and more. He's proud of being a Fanboy. But the thing he's more fan of? His girlfriend. 

He talks about her all the time. How many books she can read. The little things she writes. How she tries to cook his favorite dishes, and even though they don't end up exactly like the original, he's content with the fact that you took time to learn the recipe and tried to cook it yourself. Just because you wanted to give him a surprise. 

Mickey says he's a fan.

The squad calls him a simp. 

At this point, Mickey’s fellow aviators know you better than yourself. The thing is that they haven't seen you yet. 

Mickey just doesn't shut up about you. 

Today, Mickey and the rest of the Daggers are coming back from a mission, and he has invited you to the Hard Deck to finally meet his friends. He's excited about it, almost bouncing up and down in the chair while waiting for you to walk through the door. 

"Mickey, you look like a puppy waiting for his owner," Payback jokes, patting Mickey’s back. 

"I'm not a puppy?"

"You're a golden retriever, Mickey." Bob adds while getting more peanuts. 

"Does your girl know that you behave like that?" Hangman asks, sitting down with a new round of beers. 

"Oh yeah, she knows. That's why she loves me. Because, dude, she could be dating whoever she wants. Have I ever told you that this rich guy was–"

"Yeah, you told us." The rest of the Dagger respond in unison, remembering the story they have been told, at least three times. 

"Did I? I don't remember, though." Mickey frowns, taking a sip from his drink, and almost chokes when he sees your figure walking through the door. "There she is!" 

You smile when you see him, waving cutely in his direction. Hangman’s head moves from you to Mickey, and he is starting to understand why he is always talking about you. 

Mickey gets up, offers you his seat, and places his hands on your shoulders when you sit down. “Guys, this is y/n. Y/n, these are Jake, Nat, Bob, Reuben, Bradley, and Javy.”

You greet everyone, excited to finally meet all of them. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet Mickey’s second family.” 

“I’d say it’s a pleasure to finally meet you too, but we know everything about you already.” Nat jokes, offering you the beer that Hangman had brought for her a minute ago.  

You frown, looking at their faces. You lean in Mickey’s direction, whispering in his ear. “Why is everyone looking at me like that?” 

Mickey sighs, kissing your shoulder while whispering back. “My teammates get annoyed because I talk about you 24/7”

You laugh out loud, looking at them. “You don’t know he talks about you all the time?” 

Jake places his arms on the table, pointing at you. “Speak, child.”

“Okay so, Mickey loves you all so much… He won’t shut up about Phoenix and Bob being the best team out there? He keeps talking about Phoenix being a badass and Bob probably being the best WSO.” You tell them, making Bob look at Mickey while rolling his eyes. 

“You’re better than me, Garcia. Shut up.” 

“Javy,” you continue, wanting to let the rest of the team know how important they are to Mickey. “You are literally his role model? He says that you are such a good friend, and it doesn’t matter how many times you have to try something, you keep going until you get it done.” 

Javy musses Mickey’s hair, which is a few inches longer than he normally wears it. “I learned from the best, Mickey.” 

“Jake, Bradley… I can’t even put into words how proud he is of working with people like you. He knows that you, Jake, are probably the best pilot of this generation, and he’s honored to work with you. And Bradley, you have been through so much and still have energy to put on a smile and face the world. You’re incredible.” 

Jake and Bradley, men of few words, just raise their beers in Mickey’s direction and nod. There’s no need for them to say anything. 

You finally turn to Reuben, sitting next to you, and place a hand on his arm. “You’re his big brother; I don’t have to tell you that. He is so proud of everything you have achieved, and how I wish you could have heard him talk when you guys were chosen to fly the uranium mission.”

Reuben smirks, shaking his head, and lets out a loud laugh. “So you’re just everyone’s Fanboy, huh?” 

Mickey, whose ears are more red than Rooster’s helmet, hides his face behind your back, making you giggle. 

“It’s the first time I have seen this man getting all shy.” Jake comments, unlocking his phone to take a picture. 

“Now I want to know what things he told you about me.” You request, and everyone bombards you with information the next second. 

He tells them everything. About your new hobbies, your past ones, how good you’re at your job even if sometimes you hate it, how much he loves you, how much he wants to move in with you, but it’s difficult with your jobs being so incompatible… 

“Oh, and we know about the rich guy.” Rooster says, snapping his fingers as if he just remembered that tiny detail. 

“You told them that too?” You say, honestly surprised that he keeps talking about that. 

“Of course? You literally picked me over a guy that has millions of dollars?” He says, moving his hand up and down to signal his whole body, signaling how all that isn’t worth millions of  dollars and, nonetheless, you picked him. 

You place your hands on his face, peck his lips, and lock eyes with him. “Mickey, I don’t want a million dollars. I want the guy who can make me laugh a million times, the guy who’s always ready to compliment me and make me feel better about my insecurities. I don’t want money; I want love. And I won the lottery with you, love.”

Mickey kisses you softly, holding himself back from all the things that he wants to say. Some of them aren’t appropriate to say in public. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, my fanboy.” You mumble, kissing his nose, and turn your body toward the table again, watching the aviators with dreamy expressions and soft smiles. 

“Okay, you are allowed to fanboy about her as much as you want,” Jake says, raising his beer. “Cheers for the cute couple!”

“And cheers for the best fanboy!” You add, making all of them chuckle while toasting. Mickey couldn’t be more proud of his family, even if he tried. 

@shrimping-for-all

@purplevortexx

@jynxmirage

@pono-pura-vida

@xoxabs88xox

[dizzy-n-busy]

★ FINAL GIRL ★

Charlie is Casper's Final Girl (Guy)!!

{cw: chasing, light angst with happy(?) ending, heavily implied/referenced death off-screen, mild possessive n' obsessive behavior, Charlie is scared but kinda into it??}

• • • ★ • • •

Charlie's legs burned.

He was just walking to his old childhood friends house and ended up getting jumped; passing the alley wasn't the smartest idea, sure, but he just got off of work.

His body ached and was inches away from breaking down the moment he stepped out of Pete's. He was tired and didn't want to drag this day on any longer that it had to be.

He just wanted to see his friend again, after all this time apart - Charlie smiled to himself when thinking of them.

Now, the blonde wasn't going to lie and say his feelings towards his friend were strictly platonic.

He had an embarrassingly big crush on them; then again, could you even blame him?

Imagine being a dipshit little kid and getting into so much trouble with other dipshit kids that you're life was balanced precariously on a wire, got it? Now imagine having a friend beat the shit outta the same kids who threw your ass in a locker for stealing a dollar or two from them.

Exactly, shut up.

It was difficult not falling for them, something Charlie failed at and despite not having the balls to tell them that - he didn't think getting shanked was a proper retribution for his avoidance.

Yet here he was; tearing the soles of worn shoes as he was chased by the little gang of miscreants, thinking that their faces were vaguely familiar - back in his rough and tumble days, he'd wronged more people than not so it wasn't weird that his karma was hitting so soon.

But this seems more a matter of life and death than a little black eye.

Brrrring!

What?

Despite the tears clouding his vision, Charlie had seen someone calling him through the phone he had wedged tightly in his hand - he ducked and weaved through a few buildings and hit answer under the name, Casper.

" Yo, Chuck - where're you at? "

Their voice through the device turned the waterworks on real quick; Charlie choked back a sob as he ran up on the park, more specifically - his and Cas' spot.

" H-Hey, Cas! " Charlie was almost happy in the fact that he'd die hearing their voice, " I'm sorry but I don't think I'm ganna make it your house - "

Despite the lead the pizza boy had on the gang, he wasn't the most athletic; so charging through the overgrown clearance wasn't the smartest. Charlie trips over a thick root which bursted out concrete floor, smashing into the dense plain with a cuss.

" Fuck! " The blonde grits through clenched teeth, wincing when he tried to bounce back. Shit, he definitely pulled something.

" Chuck! Are you okay? " Casper's worried voice makes him hyper aware of the fast approaching footsteps from behind. " Charlie, where are you?! "

" I'm sorry, Cas - " is all he can muster, feeling dizziness overcome his senses from his head hitting the ground, " I love you. "

Charlie's ears rang over the incoherent yelling from the glowing device hardly clutched in his hand - his weakened body fell lax onto the old stomping grounds of his youth, seeing the rest of the people round up on him.

Slate colored eyes fluttered back into his skull, forcing him into darkness.

Content.

~

A blonde headed man shifted on plush comforters, shoving his face into a soft pillow and inhaling deeply.

Smelling like fresh linen and -

He pins his brows together, and inhales again; it smelled like...Cas?

It was some new cologne or perfume - hell, maybe just lotion for all he knew - that they wore when he first saw them in years; spinning that damn sign drafted most of the scent to him.

A pause lingers in the air as Charlie tries to recollect himself.

Then he jolts up.

Wasn't he literally knocking on deaths door, like 2 minutes ago?? The fuck kinda divine intervention is this?

Thoroughly disoriented, the blonde sits stagnant in the damn near king sized bed, staring at the satin covered pillow he'd been laying on a second ago.

He shuffles a bit and feels something fall off his shoulder - his skin tingling awake at the textures surrounding him - and sees a thick blanket pooling at his lap.

" What the fuck..." Charlie's voice falls short, he eventually decided to push the warm comforter off. He sees his ankle is bandaged.

Swinging his legs off the bed and hanging on the side for a bit; looking around with his head heavy, shoulders pinned up to his ears and back slouching.

It was a nice room; fairly spacious and humble with memorabilia littering everything - records hanging overhead and poster lining the walls.

Charlie heaves a big sigh from his mouth, gently nodding his head in encouragement to sit up and get out.

Standing up was weird, his legs felt shaky and sore and his body hurt like hell. Stumbling to a wall was his only move forward.

The blonde opened the door and leaned on every wall he could, hobbling a bit from the pain striking up his bandaged leg.

The house was pretty big, probably a one story with wider parameters; good space to hightail it if he needed to. Charlie notices that it's dark out, a void having swallowed the sky and dotted it with stars from just out the window.

" You're up. "

The noise the lanky man lets out is between a squeak and shout; accidentally applying pressure to his leg.

" Fuck - shit! "

Charlie almost falls over reaching for his leg, the loss of balance sends him hurling to the floor in a matter of seconds.

But he doesn't hit it.

Instead, he's embraced in strong arms which wrap around him tightly. Charlie tossed his head up urgently and pauses; eyes widening and mind boggled.

" Casper? "

The taller nods and smiles down at him a little - with his heart suddenly thumping in his chest, Charlie scrambles to stand back up. " Holy shit, sorry! I jus - ah! "

The back of his legs are pulled from under him and a support lands at his back. The blonde yelps when he's suddenly in the air, a quick turn of his head proves that he's also face to face.

" You're turning red, Chuck. " Casper tilts their head, lips tugging up more, " something wrong? "

Charlie shakes his head frantically and despite his flailing, they kept an iron girp on him; practically digging their nails into his skin.

" Ah! Uhm - no! Not at all, Cas! " the blonde chuckles nervously, squirming at their intense stare, their smile seems to widen and their breath hitches. He gulps and remembers earlier.

" Uh, do you actually know how I got here? " his eyes widen a bit and he quickly shakes his hands, " not that that's a problem! It's just, a really big change of scenery. "

Casper hummed, walking back to the bedroom as they replied, " I brought you here. "

The response was simple enough but lacking significant reasoning. Charlie fidgeted.

" How? I was getting jumped and like a solid 20 blocks from your house...! " he tried reasoning, letting himself get placed on the bed he woke up in when they past the threshold to the room. " you wouldn't have been able to..."

" I dealt with them, don't worry about it. "

It was reassuring in their voice but something underlyed their words; spite curling around certain letters.

Not at him, he thinks.

" What happen - "

" You know, Chuck. "

The blonde's cut off before he can question them further, their eyes looking dark as the bed squeaked under their added weight; Charlie backed up instinctively, alarms ringing in the back of his head at the smell of metal.

He tried to ignore the racing in his heart and urge to squeak.

" You never let me respond to you, after you said - " Their eyes lid when they lean in closer, " I love you. "

Charlie berated himself internally, feeling the redness spreading to his chest. " I-I know! I'm so sorry about th - "

" I love you too, Charlie..."

The blonde gasps at the sharp point of a knife to his jaw, coaxing him to stare into their blown-out pupils; practically seeing himself inside them.

A liquid dragged down his neck, dampening his shirt; warm and red.

" My forever final girl. "

• • • ★ • • •

[let-me-love-you-loki]

... Ready for It? -- Ch. 4

Chapter 4

I followed Wardlow into the restaurant, unable to stop the feeling of confusion that settled over me. Just a few minutes ago he’d been shouting at me on the side of the road. He’d been so brutally angry at the whole thing I’d brought upon him. Now, he seemed completely different. Like the last few hours hadn’t happened at all. 

            “Booth or bar?” he asked over his shoulder. “Does it matter?”

            I shrugged. His brow furrowed in an instant of frustration before he gestured toward a nearby booth. I stepped around him, suddenly aware of the absolute bulk of the man. I’d noticed it when I’d jumped on him, but there was something different about this kind of recognition. I slid into the booth on one side of the table while he maneuvered his bulk into place on the other side. He stretched his arm out on the back of the bench and watched me from across the table. 

“What?” I asked after a few minutes of silence. It was unnerving how he just kept looking at me. Like he was trying to figure me out. “What are you staring at?”

            A faint smile ghosted over Wardlow’s face. “Do you always have an attitude? Or am I just lucky?”

            “I don’t have an attitude,” I spat. As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I realized that it sounded exactly like I had an attitude. “And there’s nothing about you that’s lucky, Wardlow.”

            This time he chuckled. Before he could say anything, the waitress came by with menus and took our drink order. When she’d walked away, he leaned back in the corner of the booth, propping one leg up on the bench. “Michael.”

            “Huh?” 

            He thanked the waitress as she reappeared and sat a cup of black coffee in front of him. I put a straw in my soda. “My name is Michael.”

            For some reason, my brain couldn’t process what he said. Everything stalled as his voice faded into the background. What did it matter? And why was I so surprised by the fact that he told me his name?

            “Mattie?” Wardlow waved his hand in front of my face, snapping his fingers to get my attention. “Hey! Little Jackson!”

            “Huh?” The word slipped out in a daze. He rolled his eyes and, just like that, I felt a faint spark of frustration grow inside me. “What?”

            “Are you going to eat anything?” he asked. The expression on his face made it clear that he was desperately trying not to laugh at me. “Or are you just going to sit there all night?”

            “Waffle,” I blurted out. The truth was that I wasn’t hungry in the slightest. I wanted to crash. I wanted to just curl up somewhere and cry until I couldn’t think anymore. The sight of Nicole knocked out cold and the look of betrayal on Dad’s face were burned into my mind. I felt sick.

            My head felt like it was going to explode. Reality crashed into me, and I suddenly realized that I had nowhere to go. I always roomed with Nicole when we were on the road. It didn’t matter if we were in a suite with our parents or if we had a space all to ourselves. My gear bag was back at the arena. My luggage was in the hotel. 

            “I’m so screwed,” I said out of nowhere as my head slumped down against the table. 

            Wardlow chuckled across the table. I didn’t bother lifting my head. I knew he was making fun of me. “You’re just now figuring that out, huh?”

            I didn’t even look up. There was a weight in my chest that made it hard to breathe. It was like my ribs were caving in. The air stuck in my throat, choking me until I gagged. My eyes burned with tears that wouldn’t fall. 

            “Hey.” Wardlow’s voice came out gently. “Look at me.”

            “No.” I choked again, feeling like my throat was closing up.

            There was a creak of wood and then a bulk pushing against my left side. ���Scoot over, Little Jackson,” he said firmly. His voice was still gentle, almost soft. I let his bulk fill the space, squishing me against the wall of the booth. He bumped his shoulder into mine. “C’mon, look at me.”

            I didn’t want to. I just wanted to wallow, to marinate in the feeling that I’d completely screwed up my entire life. “I wish I’d never let Bub talk me into this.”

            “Maybe,” Wardlow said, ignoring the fact that I was still forehead on the table. “Maybe you should have just told your parents about the whole thing. It’s not like they don’t know how to act after thirty years in the game. But it’s done, and you can’t change it.” 

            The table vibrated beneath my forehead as the plates settled against the formica. I could sense the waitress on my right on the other side of the divider. I didn’t have to look up to see that she was making eyes at Wardlow. The way his voice dropped made the attention perfectly clear. 

            “Sit up and eat your waffle.” 

            I turned my head and looked over at him. He had five plates in front of him, each one piled high with food. He reached over my head for the hot sauce. “How are you going to eat all of that?”

            The corner of his mouth tipped upward. “Watch and find out.”

            I scowled and sat up, squished against the divider by his massive bulk. “What exactly is your problem? Why do you have such an attitude with me?”

            “See,” Wardlow said around a mouthful of food, “that’s your problem, Little Jackson. Thinking everything is about you.” He waved his fork in my direction before shoveling up another forkful of eggs and bacon. “It must be the Jackson family motto.”

            Rolling my eyes, I opened my mouth to speak. But the way his brow lifted in challenge kept my mouth shut. Spite filled me as I picked up my fork and started eating. And entirely second guessing my sanity when I agreed to this whole plan with Bub. 

            And definitely when I made the choice to screw over Maxwell Jacob Friedman. 

__________

Tag List

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[cristina-t]

chapter 8

Sage had a problem with chewing on her lip when she was anxious.

Which was exactly what she was doing now, with everything going down between the pogues and her breakup with JJ, the one main thing on her mind being if they’ll still want to hang out with her. 

She never fully knew what the pogues thought of her. Especially since in the beginning it was very obvious who wanted her there and who didn’t. 

Apparently the boat belonged to Scooter Grubbs. The dead beat old guy known for buying singular cigarettes cause that’s all he could afford. So the question between all of them was how could he afford one of the most expensive boats on the market? 

Instead of focusing on that, the pogues all decided to throw a kegger, try and act chill despite the fact that they were on the crime scene and took evidence from it. 

Sage couldn’t possibly believe this was a good idea, how could throwing a party be a good idea?

She knew firsthand that alcohol lowered your inhibitions, drinking was not a good idea. All it took was one too many drinks and someone would blab.

She began to nervously chew on her bottom lip, her eyes scanning the area while everyone else set up the keg.

She could feel the tension- oh god were they judging her? Had JJ told everyone that they had broken up? It definitely feel like something he’d do. 

She froze as Ruby handed her a cup- the two eyed each other, Ruby seemed almost.. afraid..?

What reason would she have to be afraid of her? Sage had always been kind to her. Well at least she thought. 

“ thanks..” Sage said quietly, taking a long sip of the beer, all Ruby offered was a nod and a timid smile before going back over to John B.

John B.. yea that was another issue.. that little moment on the window at the motel? It had been plaguing her mind all day. What did it mean?

She found John B cute, his fluffy brown hair and those big brown eyes- Sage nearly choked on her drink and shook her head.

No way. She did not have a crush on John B.

Over the course of the night everyone had split up, John B was at the keg, Kiara was talking to some guy and Pope was failing miserably at flirting with a touron.

Ruby was the first to slip away almost immediately, no one had seen her all night.

And just a few minutes ago JJ had also slipped away.

And that left Sage, looking out at the party, she felt like a fish out of water. She couldn’t stand the Kooks but was she even welcome with the Pogues?

She sighed and looked down at her cup, she didn’t feel like she belonged anywhere.. that’s what it always been like, no matter where she is, always out of place. 

“ hey princess.. you okay?” John B’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts and she looked up, clearing her throat, “ yea.. maybe..? Okay no..” she finally admitted with a sigh.

“ what’s going on?” He asked, refilling her cup and leaning against the keg, “ uh JJ and I broke up..” she murmured, taking another long sip of her beer.

“ no shit.. you two finally called it quits? For real this time?” He asked and she nodded, “ yea.. it just didn’t feel right for either of us anymore, I guess?” She admitted.

Sage didn’t know why she was even telling John B all this, but it was strangely comforting to finally have someone she could confide in.

The two ended up talking for majority of the night, and she actually felt herself feeling better. It was like a weight had been lifted off her.

She was beginning to see John B in a new light, she truly noticed him now.

And she began to think that maybe, just maybe having a crush on John B wouldn’t be so bad after all..

[armulyn]

Four months ago, listening to dark and epic songs such as I See Fire and Battle Scars and with the Wingfeather Saga on the mind, I opened a doc and wrote, as you do, just to let off some steam. What came out was a weird amalgation of different AUs of the saga that I'd plow through five pages of each and then switch tacks.

None of them are complete, seeing as the Wingfeather Saga is so wonderfully (and infuratingly) written that any attempts to make things better usually end in the utter decimation of the plot, characters, and/or themes of the saga.

Now, a month and a half post my last edit to them, I decided quite elegantly and maturely, what the heck? and decided to try letting one out.

So, what if Artham actually did find the way back into the Deeps after finding the water from the First Well?

Fun fact, this is the 'The Warden and the Bear King' WIP from that ask game a while back.

[SPOILERS ABOUND. THROUGH BOOK 3 I THINK.]

Artham finds the cavern back into the deeps of Throg about two months after exiting, and rushes in without hesitation. Maybe it's the same one he left from, maybe it isn't, but either way it's twisting, unwieldy, and difficult to get the seed-husk of water from the First Well through unspilt. Hours he winds through passages, through burrows, and through endless doubts and shrieking voices warning him to go back.

He makes it to the dungeon eventually, and he freezes at the sight of it. Music is playing nearby— he'd thought he'd heard it ten minutes ago, but he'd told himself he was imagining it!— Sing the song the voices start, and against his will his lips start to move a bit... Terrified, he flees like mad, and he might have reached the surface once more had not a clatter from behind startled him.

He'd dropped the seed-husk.

Sprinting back, he frantically picks it back up, but nearly all the water has drained away, only a few drops left. He paws at it, trying to push the trickle of water back into the husk, the useless talons scraping awfully on the stone like nails on a blackboard. It's hopeless, so eventually he gathers his strength and tattered courage and presses on with what few drops he has left. He has to find Esben now, he tells himself, refusing the voices that press upon him at the name, for it is only a matter of time before he loses the rest of the water, the only thing that stands between him and utterly failing the High King yet again.

Back into the dungeon, closing his ears forcefully against the pulsing music, ducking behind cages when a Fang wanders through, searching for Esben. When he finds him, the king is in a newly reinforced cage, further back from the exit than it had been before. They've taken precautions, but precautions are nothing to a properly motivated Throne Warden, and the cage door cracks open within seconds.

"Esben," he chokes, and his brother starts. Esben's face is as he remembers it— bearded with fur, grey bubbled skin breaking out in patches, dazed pain in his eyes— but a wonder in them as well. "You... came back." he croaks, and Artham has to dash away tears to see the chains properly. He'll break them in a moment but first— "Aye," he says, "Now drink this."

He holds the battered seed husk gently to Esben's mouth. He watches carefully as his brother drinks the few drops eagerly— they probably haven't given him water for days, he fumes— and then leans back against the cage wall, exhausted by this small exertion. But there isn't time for rest or to wait until the water takes effect, and Artham hauls him to his feet. They stumble together from the cage, through the dungeon, Artham supporting almost all of Esben's weight, and thinking that if they happen to trip and fall then they would never manage to get up again. He prays with breath he can't spare that they won't trip.

Artham has always been tall, and his strength had been renowned in years past, but he has languished in a dungeon for— years, surely. He is stronger than Esben, but two months of frantic wandering, eating whatever he can and constantly moving hasn't improved his strength so much as his endurance. Thankfully, by the time the dungeon turns back into winding caverns and tunnels, Esben seems stronger, and can walk on his own. Neither of them speak in the pitch darkness, each moving as if in a dream with only each other to remind them they aren't. Artham holds tight to Esben's hand with his left arm, and the other wraps around Esben's side, even if his brother doesn't need his support any more. He doesn't want to imagine losing hold of his brother, here in the darkness. They stumble past a patch of blooming flowers and vibrant grass sprung from the cold rock where Artham had dropped the water from the First Well.

Under a pitch-black sky they stumble from pitted stone onto night-darkened grass.

They spend perhaps a week in the Blackwood, journeying west at a stumbling pace. They grow stronger, with daylight, food, water, and companionship. Sometimes other cloven shamble past them, but always wild and untamed. Artham and Esben don't have any water from the First Well left, nor anything else to envy, and so they're left alone for the most part. In the bright sunlight, Artham can see what he'd missed in the dark of the deeps. Throughout their steady trek, the water was working upon Esben, and his face seems clearer, the grey mottled skin gone and the patchy fur a golden-brown color that matches his hair. He looks a little odd, a little bulkier and more bear-like than before, but he has come back to himself, he is Artham's little brother, and he is not broken but healed.

The brothers have a lot of time to talk on their westward journey.

At first, Artham has trouble keeping back the high-pitched gibbering his voice and words keep trying to become, especially when Esben is quiet or contemplative or otherwise not talking. Esben is alarmed when it starts, which sets Artham off even more, which turns Esben’s alarm to worry, and it all ends in a mess of I’m sorrys and heart to hearts and confessions.

Once the brothers lose each other for an entire six hours.

Artham had gotten panicked, and in his sleep-deprived state he’d run away from the familiar man who called him by name with the blue eyes that filled with pain and memories at times— his fault, it was his fault—

Esben trails him at first, tracking his brother’s panicked flight through the loamy soil, but it isn’t safe to journey alone in the Blackwood, even in broad daylight, and soon he stops to consider his options, perched high in a tree where he had fled from the reach of a toothy cow. Artham would calm down soon, and probably panic and retrace his path. Esben was on said path, and if he kept shouting his name from the tree where the many creatures of the wood couldn’t reach him…

Artham refuses to stray more than ten feet from his little brother’s side for the rest of the Blackwood.

In the original story, Artham had stowed away on a Fang ship to Skree, following a tiny pinprick of light that told him the children of the king were there. He had nearly starved in the hold, but made it to Glipwood only five years after the fall of the Shining Isle. Now, with his little brother at his side, he has more to think of than himself.

They take refuge in an abandoned cottage a few hours from the edge of the Blackwood, shifting through debris for anything useful. Artham finds an intact glass vial in the kitchen, but the last of the precious water had gone toward Esben’s healing, and so he tucks it, empty, among their scant belongings in the hope it might be useful.

-

Esben had decided, in the first clear-minded rest after their exit from the deeps, that he was not going to ask Artham about what happened to Nia and the children. He barely remembered anything about that day, beside sitting down to lunch to the sound of Nia’s laughter as she tried to coax little Kalmar to eat. Janner had been excitedly relating some epic adventure from his day to his Uncle Artham, whose strained face of the past week eased somewhat while he listened.

Then the Fangs had come.

After Esben had been taken captive, ripped away from the room of the Fane of Fire and force-marched to the dungeon, he had caught sight of Artham being shoved into one of Rysen’s well-kept cells. Seeing the fear in his brother’s eyes, the Throne Warden had shaken his head, mouthing they’re safe. That was the extent to which they had communicated for the four years of captivity in the deeps of Throg, for Esben had not been bound for the cells but rather to an interrogation room, and they were kept separate on the march to Throg. In the deeps, they had not spoken at all, both consumed by the dreadful music and their own demons.

Esben had been given a front-row seat to his brother’s breaking, though they had only glimpsed each other once in a blue moon. He could hear the Stone Keeper taunting Artham with food, with freedom, with a snatch of sunlight. He could hear his brother shouting his name, and receiving no answer. He could hear his brother muttering in his sleep, in his waking hours, mumbling and shrieking as if the voices in his mind had taken over his speech.

Artham was the one they focused on, for they knew they could count on the king to break. What had the king ever done, besides rule from the protecting shadow of the Warden? What had the king ever done to protect the kingdom, while the Warden waged wars with his own strength and the strength of those loyal to him? What had Esben ever done, besides falling to the Fangs the moment he tried to fight without his brother by his side?

The Stone Keeper came and went from Artham’s side like a scuttling shadow, but she never paused by Esben, for which he was shamefully grateful. The dark of his cell and the silence was never broken save by what peeked in from without, as the days turned and his brother went mad and Esben began to think he was forgotten by even his captors. His only companion was the music that echoed in the dungeons and crept into every forgotten corner, and filled his head to chase away the silence.

His brother, Esben decides, has gone through enough. He isn’t going to ask and possibly bring back bad memories. He isn’t going to ask about the tears that had watered Artham’s fierce eyes even as he was shoved into a cell, even as he mouthed they’re safe. He isn’t.

Sitting at the dilapidated table of the abandoned cottage, Artham tells him anyway.

[oddyssey77]

The Festival Part 3 - Annabeth

POV Annabeth Chase

I am fuming. How can he still take her side after all of these years. I have spent so long trying to rebuild my relationship with him and he still chooses his gold digger wife over me. I lie down by the creek questioning whether or not I should return to the camp or not. I wish I had never reentered my mortal family's life. It would've be so much easier that way. It would've meant a lot less pain.

"You know, it's hard for him as well," I hear a voice telling me, "He never sees you and when he does she holds him back."

"He should leave her then." I tell the person behind me. 

"But why would he do that to himself? Why should he leave her, when you are the one who left him." It was Reyna speaking.

"She was seven years old!" another voice states. I turn my head and see Thalia and Reyna bickering over me.

"She still left, and that would've broken him. No matter how justified it was."

"Reyna's right Thalia, I did leave. I took his seven year old girl, his whole world, away from him. It's fair enough that he should care more about his wife than the girl who disappeared for five years and broke his heart."

"Annabeth, you were struggling with yourself, it's okay that you got scared." Thalia put her hand on my shoulder comfortingly.

"I know it's okay. And I don't blame him either. Or her. These things take time and it's allowed to suck for that time. If it's alright with you guys, I think I need some time alone."

"Okay, come back when you can." Reyna pats me on the back and turns to leave. Thalia shifts me a smile and walks away with Reyna. They get smaller and smaller as they get further away. I can see that they have already found something else to argue about because Reyna is making angry hand gestures and Thalia's mouth is opening and shutting like mad. I turn away letting myself forget about the world

I breath in the sweet, salty air of Long Island Sound. It reminded me of Percy. I stare down at the sea and notice something. The waves look like they are acting up. They aren't flowing as calmly as they were before. In fact, they were crashing violently against the rocks. I got a flashback to when the Manticore captured Percy and the river began to flow rapidly. I stand up, worried that Percy might be in trouble. 

They stop. The waves stop moving almost completely. They slowly thread their way toward the shore. A fish reaches the surface. Then another one, then a third, and a fourth. I notice how the fish aren't moving. They are dead. I turn and run toward the camp. Percy was in trouble, I knew he was. 

I dash through the woods, trying to guess what was happening. I was running so fast that I almost didn't notice the small body lying motionless on the soil. It was a boy lying face down with three arrows in him, one in the small of his back. I remember Percy's weak spot and get worried for a minute before noticing that this isn't Percy. This is someone who I know well. A tear finds its way down my cheek, as I realise that I am staring down at Malcolm Pace, my best friend from the Athena cabin. He weakly draws his eyes to me.

"No, No, No," I choke, "Not you Malcolm. Why you?"

"It's okay, I can be with Lee now." I cry desperately trying to see if I can save him. 

"Please Malcolm," I beg

"I see him now." His eyes lose focus, his hand loses grip, his neck loses pulse. He was talking about his long-dead boyfriend, Lee Fletcher who died when Luke's army attacked the camp a few years ago. I feel my insides collapse. How could I have let this happen. I should've been there. I shouldn't have left. 

My mind shifts from Malcolm and I realise that those arrows didn't just appear in his back. The camp was under attack. It had to be. I run further toward the camp and hear the clashing of swords, the yells of war, the sounds of battle. I charge toward the cabins and begin to see the huntresses fighting a horde of stone warriors. Not like Medusa stone, more like warriors equipped with stone armour. You can even see their pale grey eyes flashing with all kinds of emotion. The longer I look at them, the more I feel that there is something off about them 

The huntresses are struggling to fend them off. I look around but Artemis is nowhere to be seen. I see Thalia struggling as she backs up into Reyna who is fighting alongside the 12th Legion Fulminata. I look around for Percy but I can't see him anywhere. I dash toward the Athena cabin to grab my knife and shield.

I burst the door open and rush toward my bed. I reach under the pillow and snatch my knife. I shuffle underneath the bed to find my shield but I can't find it. I give up looking and head toward the exit of the cabin ready to join the fight. I pass Malcolm's bunk and feel my heart swell. I place that aside and burst out into the courtyard. I see Will Solace and Leo Valdez fighting for their lives. 

"Annabeth!" Will calls to me. 

"Where is Percy!" I yell back.

"He was over that way with Nico a minute ago," Leo shouts gesturing toward the Hades cabin. "I think he got hurt," I say nothing else and try and make it to Cabin 13 which was on the other end of the courtyard. I fail. I am flanked by a stone fighter. I stab him deep in the neck which was about the only spot that wasn't protected by armour. He chokes and falls to the ground. I look into his eyes as purple, rotten blood spills from his neck. I feel bad for him. That has never happened before. Never have I felt guilty for killing anything that attacked me. It was like I could relate to him somehow.

I forget about it and move on as I get attacked by more warriors. I kill each one, getting more beat up each time though. I still felt that shred of guilt with each of them like I did with the first one. I look across the yard and see Clarisse dashing toward me. 

"Where have you been!" she growls at me. 

"I'm sorry, I didn't know we were under attack," I reply but she isn't focusing on me anymore. She is staring in the direction of Cabin 10 where Drew Tanaka was fighting a stone warrior. But Clarisse wasn't looking at drew. She was focusing on the stone warrior as if trying to decipher something about them. The stone fighter had a feminine appearance and was fighting sloppily with a sword but not as sloppily as Drew. She stabs Drew in the abdomen. Drew falls to the ground motionless. Clarisse's eyes flood with both shock and fear

"That's, it's she's..." There are tears poring down her face. I know it isn't Drew's death that had scared her. it was something else, something about the stone fighter. She is about to say a name but is interrupted when she is snatched up by a huge stone warrior with massive hands. She gasps once more, with a look of complete terror on her. She looks into his eyes and looks like she is about to faint. This isn't like Clarisse. Clarisse doesn't get scared. Clarisse usually fights back. I try and fight for her but I am shot in the arm by a warrior with a bow and arrow.

"How are you..." Clarisse utters but he didn't seem interested in answering her question because at that moment, it hurled her across the yard and into a tree. Her head strikes it first. She must be dead. No demigod could've survived that at least that's what I thought. 

Her boyfriend, Chris Rodriguez, rushes across the battlefield to come to her aid. He looks so scared. I want to go and help her but the big one goes for me next. It goes to punch me but I dodge and leap onto it's flying fist. I am so enraged I wanted to curl into a ball and explode. 

"You killed Clarisse!" I yell at it. A few campers turn their heads noticing what happened to Clarisse, their greatest fighter, "I'LL KILL YOU!" I climb across it's back and tear some of the stone plating off it's back I stab it repeatedly and this time, feel no remorse. I feel like I recognize the singed tunic underneath the armour. It falls to the ground, dead. My eyes dart around the conflict looking for the spot where Clarisse had been thrown. I see Chris cradling her carefully. He looks up at me with a glimmer of hope. Somehow she had survived.

I feel a wave of relief wash over me. It is short lived however because I hear an explosion. The big house had been reduced to rubble and marching out of it was a pale demigod with an eyepatch. It was someone who had died a long time ago. Someone who couldn't be there. It was Ethan Nakamura, son of Nemesis. I remember how he had helped us in the final battle against Kronos and I don't understand why he isn't fighting with us. 

I then notice, to my right, Percy. He is unconscious and is being dragged out of the line of fire by Nico. I want to go and help. But all of my other friends were dying by the second out here. I make the decision to stand my ground and continue helping everyone else

Ethan is charging through the crowd slaying demigods, satyrs, huntresses and nature spirits as he went. The sword he is holding is unusual it is long and glowing a sky blue colour. He yells something in Latin with his sword raised toward the sky. Everyone looked to him, including the stone warriors. The Roman demigods, Hazel Levesque looks shocked as she must recognize Latin.

He plunges his sword deep into the ground and glowing cracks open up and start expanding rapidly. I see Leo fighting alongside Hazel and I see them sink into the ground as one of the cracks had enveloped them. I hear Leo's struggled yells as he falls deep into the crevasse with Hazel trying to slow their decent by sticking her sword into the side of the hole. But it is useless. The crack closes taking them with it. I begin to run. There is another crack heading straight toward me. 

I trip on a tree root, twisting my ankle. I try and get up but I simply can't I see a crack close up where Clarisse and Chris had been. I turn and see one heading right for the Hades cabin which was where Nico had taken Percy. I feel a hand pick me up and start helping me away from the only remaining crack in the ground which was hurtling toward us. But something else appears ahead of us, Ethan Nakamura with his sword drawn begins charging at us. We are now sandwiched between the one-eyed demigod and the crevasse trying to eat us.

I feel the ground give way beneath me. Will yells as we fall through the ground, the sky getting further and further away until the crack closes itself off. All I see is darkness. Will holds me tight. But I am not too scared. I've fallen into worse holes than this.  A few seconds later, I black out.

This chapter is dedicated to Julie