#me just bracing Air i feel like im saying things yet at the same time Not

[fagsex]

i had been too scared for years to check up on this really shitty thing from when i was a kid because his name his face the building they all made me nauseous and i knew if there was any justice at all it would be too little. i researched it today and turns out i was right. fucking scum got let go and all charges dropped for lack of competency. should that not speak more? when he was initially charged, it was on cnn, usatoday, cbc, covered so much that ive had friends ive made over the years in different states tell me they heard about him. ive found news articles in french about him. and yet not a word from any source outside of local about how he got fully away with it.

this is a weird thing for me to be randomly rambling about but sometimes it just hits me what happened. dr howard schneider of jacksonville florida, the only pediatric dentist to take medicaid in the largest city by area in the fucking continental united states, tortured, not exaggeration, tortured children for 30 years. at least.

when i say im afraid of dentists, im testy around dentistry, and teeth, and so much related things to it, everyone brushes it off easily as a common fear. which is naturally how he got away with it for so long. we were children physically restrained with leather straps. the doors were locked, parents werent allowed to come back, at a pediatric dentist. there were patients with teeth they just got being ripped out of their heads. i was either never given anesthetic, or, on more than one occasion, given so much i violently threw up, while lying down, restrained. i was seven years old tied strapped down choking on my own vomit with a bubblegum gas going in my nose. i can still smell it.

cold air still makes me nauseous. gas masks make me anxious. i couldnt lie down or feel relaxed anywhere that wasnt my bedroom for years. i would be sent to the nurses office as a kid, and refuse to lie down, because i felt like if i did, pain would begin. i would go in for a checkup and leave with too tight, too wrong crowns, covering my teeth. often, my teeth were not inspected or cleaned beforehand, just straight in with the drill. adult clamps in a childs mouth because i was being 'a whiny brat'.

have you ever been to a dentists office, or any medical office whatsoever, where an entire wall was a mirror? i could see myself held down and put through hell. i was too scared to put anything in my mouth at home, it repulsed me, not to mention my gums, my cheeks, the roof of my mouth, tongue, everything hurt so bad. i figured out later it wasnt normal, he was slicing them with a scalpel, with a pick, anything and everything. he put a hole in my sisters cheek. my baby sister walked, toddled out of there with a hole in her cheek after her first check up. we still went back, we couldnt afford anyone else, and he kept telling us how much work my mouth needed. he kept trying to convince my parents i may need braces, but i had the straightest teeth my parents had ever seen.

my heart still drops when i hear a drill, any drill. certain smells make me feel like i cant speak or breathe. my own mother screamed at me for being dramatic, for complaining so much. she said itd only hurt if i didnt listen, and he said the same. he said id be in trouble, big trouble if i told, and i remember it clear as day. he put on a movie on the ceiling tv he bought with the money medicaid gave him for ripping our milk teeth out, and it was the same movie everytime. some people dont understand that even the silliest, oddest thing can scare you if it sticks. he put his hands on my neck several times to restrain me and keep me from moving, and had me stare at the ceiling, and as fucking lame as it sounds, i could not listen to jerry seinfelds voice or participate in any bee movie jokes that became en vogue in 2016 or so, because i was legitimately terrified.

my own mother would mock my fears of putting things in my mouth to clean them, saying that if i was actually scared, i'd want to clean my teeth more so i'd see him less. it wouldn't matter what i did. and a scared 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 year old doesn't have that logic. i was just a lazy kid with disgusting teeth who was scared of the dentist, to everyone. in late 2019, the crowns he gave me all exploded, and took my teeth with them. four, five of my teeth were slowly destroyed and chipped out of my mouth. and every day i had to feel that scraping again, the cutting up of my mouth, how it filled with blooded. i couldnt talk or eat, but my family saw that as a positive, and i was too ashamed to tell them my teeth broke in my mouth. i knew they would see it as a sign of how disgusting i was. to be in my teens, and already have teeth abandoning me.

the state of florida forgave this. over 100 parents and children presented stories like mine, and he was still forgiven. i dont have a reason for sharing this, not now, not really. its not a special date, nor recent news. i dont even have some message behind this, other than oversharing. it was not just him either. it was every adult who did not listen or care, i suppose. it was the nurses there too. it was the state, it was his attorneys and lawyers that he could use his millions on that he made putting patients off anesthetics in papoose boards.

he was never even charged with child abuse, but fraud. the money was the most important thing the law found. i didnt smile with my teeth for years, my sisters speech was delayed for years, i had panic attacks in the middle of the day in middle school over a cartoon bee, ive had to remove 4 shattered teeth from my head and have several other teeth reconstructed where he broke and did not fix them,i was blamed for all the dental problems that suddenly appeared in my mouth when i began going to him, ive been belittled my entire life for such a childish 'fear', and that was never in question. just the fact he took my teeth to make money, that he put me and thousands of poor children, in both senses of the adjective, through hell to charge medicaid.

anyway what the fuck right. im sorry i dont know why im writing this all out right now but it just feels so stuck inside me that itll burst from my chest if i dont write it out. its actually relaxed me quite a lot. if you live in florida or georgia and you see some old bitch who looks like this just feel free to get him on sight 🤙

[fiduciia]

timeskip petra / petra + the squad / whatever tf i want information

petra was, without surprise, very close to her four male squad members. as i've mentioned, the fact that she's a woman has never really been a point of conversation and the three felt comfortable with her around. thank god levi is here to ensure cleanliness because otherwise she would have not trusted any of them with hygiene.

she knows their family situation rather well and does see through oluo's arrogant attitude as she knows he's an exemplary big brother to his siblings. she has also come across eld's girlfriend while visiting his district (canon doesn't tell us where the dude lives) who recognized her and they went shopping for clothes together.

her sewing skills came in handy way more than they should have.

i imagine she survived by retreating high up in the trees after hearing oluo call for her. yet with him not wanting to put her in further danger and his need for revenge he would make a last attempt for the female titan's neck and fail as we've seen. she'd be spared since obviously she wasn't annie's priority and eren would've transformed a short moment later.

she would be the one to check the bodies. she'd apologize over and over while returning to levi, leaving eren to fight since she can't carry all the corpses by herself.

being rather emotional and strongly believing in following orders, petra would be livid at the sight of dieter disobeying and this resulting in the loss of her comrades' bodies.

her devotion to levi is stronger than ever and she starts to believe in letting people make their own choices if they do so believing it is for the best of the majority. she'd also be mortified learning that all this time she'd been killing not monsters but humans.

four years later her hair is at chest size and during battle she keeps it in a low bun held by a hair comb that belonged to her deceased mother. she never used it before since her hair was too short and a part of her always believed she'd return home

the first time petra had to be subjected to hange's ramblings about titan experiments, petra drank 10 cups of tea to keep herself awake and was a shaking giggly tired mess by the end of it.

being the only person left in her father's life, she had an argument regarding whether she should keep fighting. her dad obviously believed she'd done enough for humanity and should settle down to a normal life, to which she replied that she has to understand why her comrades died. give a meaning to their deaths, and that papa ral didn't raise a quitter.

learning that annie wants to return to her father and needed to give the founding titan to marley would make petra snap. i think she'd laugh like "you're a daddy's little girl too? ahahaha-- i see". eventually her goal would be the same, to return to her father in karanes not knowing whether he is alive or dead since they lived not too far from the wall and papa ral.

she loves to protect, so i think that she'd be emotionally supportive of falco, but most importantly of gabi. after all none of them is innocent and kindness has always been at the forefront of her personality.

petra and pieck. that's it. i just think their meeting could've been so interesting. both have a sweet father they'd do anything for, and both stand not for their country per say but for the ones who never wronged them. they're both strong reliable (GORGEOUS) women.

petra has thought about taking the female titan's power would the occasion present itself (but obviously it never did). if she had, however, rest assured she'd have been horrified on her first transformation when she'd resemble the titan that decimated her friends. also inheriting annie's memory and seeing that her dad was a piece of shit??? petra would think hey your daughter isn't coming home mr leonhart but maybe that's for the better because no daughter should have to return to an abusive father.

also just for my own Agenda i will allow levi living in his pathetic wheelchair so long as it's with her and their two children gabi & falco. the end.

[nataliedanovelist]

GF - Timestuck AU: The Power of Mabel ch.2

While fighting over a time machine so one twin can win a pig or the other can win the heart of a girl, Mabel is left stranded in a snowy forest with no time machine and no brother. Oops.

The BEAUTIFUL art pieces were done by @clownwry and @elishevart ! THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! 😭❤️💋

ch.1 - ch.3

~~~~~~~~~~

Ford was way more nervous than he was letting on.

She had long, pretty brown hair, braces over her teeth, sneakers, a skirt, and a sweater that allowed the cold air to pass through it. Her cheeks were slightly chubby with youth and nosy, as well as her nose, due to the freezing weather. Her eyes matched her hair perfectly, and though they were clouded with fear and confusion, Ford swore he could see sparkling behind the clouds, sparkling that made itself well-known when she asked if she could make him a sweater or when she saw his hands.

She had long, pretty brown hair, braces over her teeth, sneakers, a skirt, and a sweater that allowed the cold air to pass through it. Her cheeks were slightly chubby with youth and nosy, as well as her nose, due to the freezing weather. Her eyes matched her hair perfectly, and though they were clouded with fear and confusion, Ford swore he could see sparkling behind the clouds, sparkling that made itself well-known when she asked if she could make him a sweater or when she saw his hands.

Ford would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy Mabel’s company, but she was practically a stranger, and keeping a random girl in his house that was located in the middle of the woods was fishy and Ford couldn’t help but feel like it was illegal. But he couldn’t leave her out in the snow and send her on her way to find her home and family, so he decided to keep her warm or healthy, simply because it was the right thing to do.

But then she said she had no parents to call. Only a brother, who was lost, too. Ford can remember the old rule: If you’re lost, stay where you are until you are found. So he then decided that she could stay here until her brother found her, which should be by morning at the latest.

Still, he felt uneasy, so once Mabel was settled in front of the TV, Ford excused himself and went into the kitchen to make a phone call. There was only one man who would have better judgement in this situation than him.

The phone rang a few times. Ford checked his watch to make sure it was a reasonable time to call. It wasn’t Sunday, was it? But then the ringing stopped. “Howdy! This here Fiddleford McGucket.”

“Hey there, buddy.” Ford smiled to himself at hearing that cheerful voice. “How have you been?”

“Stanford Pines! Good t’hear from ya!” Fiddleford cheered. “M’just fine, just fine! How are ya?! Ya haven’t gotten eaten by monsters yet, have ya?” He laughed, making his old friend chuckle along.

“No no, I’m alright.” Ford almost brought up the reason he called, but then he remembered something very important to Fiddleford. “How are Emma-May and Tater?”

“OH! They’re doin’ great! We’re all very happy n’ doin’ well! Ya won’t believe how big Tate’s gotten since ya last saw him! He’s already crawlin’!”

“Wow, that's great to hear.” Ford sat in a chair at the kitchen table. “Has he said his first words yet?”

“No, not quite. Actually, he’s extremely quiet. Not a lot of baby-babble.” Fiddleford chuckled. “The doctor says that’s perfectly normal. Tate’s so smart, he’s reachin’ for specific colors n’ such, n’ ya can tell he’s thinkin’ a lot n’ knows what’s goin’ on, he just got nothin’ t’say.”

“I was very shy when I was young.” Ford commented casually. He didn't feel like mentioning why. “If Tate is anything like either of his parents he’s very intelligent.”

“Oh, he’s so much like both of us it’s scary. Ya know Emma-May, so clever n’ quiet n’ such. Tate’s got all that. But he already looks so much like me! But he’s got his mama’s hair! N’ Santy Claus brought ‘im this fun little fishin’ game where ya fish for plastic fish with a pole with a magnet on it, n’ he loves it! I can’t wait to take ‘im fishin’ when he’s big enough! Ya really outta give yourself a break n’ come down for a visit, he’d move to see his Uncle Ford again.”

Ford’s face felt hot. “Perhaps. Spring is when a lot of anomalies are active and breeding, so i would prefer not to miss that, but maybe I could visit for a weekend before that…”

“Well, no pressure, I won’t assume anythang until ya tell me to, just know there’s always a bed for ya here.”

“Thank you, Fiddleford. The same for you and your family. The clean air will do everyone some good.”

“Oh, I’m sure.” Fiddleford sighed happily and perked up. “So! Whatcha callin’ for? Not that I’m not happy just t’chat, but ya never call.”

Ford laughed and shrugged to himself. “I suppose I don’t. I’m sorry.”

“No need t’be sorry, Stanford, just wanna know what’s up.”

“Well, I was hoping to get your advice on something.”

“Shoot.”

“Um… well…” Ford rubbed the back of his neck, unsure how to tell him this. “I heard some unusual sounds outside today…”

“What kind of unusual sounds?”

“Cracks, like lightning. And some faint yelling.” Ford answered. “I thought it might be a tree branch or a new anomaly to catalogue, but when I opened the door a young girl was standing there in the snow with no coat.”

“Heavens! Is she alright?!”

“She’s okay, no frostbite. She was cold, but after sitting by the fire, drinking some hot chocolate, and changing into some dry clothes, she’s okay now.”

“Well, good.”

“So of course I brought her in. I tried to call her parents, she probably got lost playing…”

“Sure.”

“... but she says she doesn’t have any parents.”

“Oh.” Fiddleford sighed. “Oh. Now, wait, are ya sure she didn’t just say that so ya wouldn’t call?”

Ford chuckled and said, “I first thought that too, but she looked too sad to be lying.”

“Okay, I see. Does she got somebody ya can call?”

“She says she has a brother, but he was out there, too. So he is probably out there looking for her and therefore nowhere near a phone.”

“Fair enough, okay. So, I reckon y’all are waitin’ for him t’come ‘round.”

“Yup.”

“Well sounds to me like you’ve handled this all pretty well.” Fiddleford said confidently.

“You think so?” Ford asked. “I can’t help but feel like I’m doing something wrong. Like I’m missing something. Am I doing something wrong?”

“Nonsense, buddy, you’re doin’ great.” Fiddleford assured. “Look here, ya can’t just leave a young gurl out in the snow t’try t’find her way home...”

“I agree.”

“... so ya really got one option n’ that’s t’keep an eye on her n’ let her in as a guest. N’ ya tried t’call, but nothin’. The best thang ya can do right now is be there for this lil’lady n’ just be kind t’her. N’ if nobody comes for her by mornin’, why don’t ya go into town n’ see if anybody knows her, then they can help y’all out.”

Ford nodded, then remembered that his best friend couldn’t see it, so he said, “Yeah, that sounds like a good plan. Thank you, Fiddleford.”

“You’re welcome. N’ hey, are ya okay?” He asked seriously.

“Yes, yes I’m okay. I just want to make sure I do this right.”

“O’course. I understand. Ya want me t’come down there n’ give a hand?”

“No, that’s not necessary. I’m sure Mabel will find her brother in the morning.”

“Mabel, huh? Well, if y’all don’t, please call me. N’ even if ya do find her brother, call me. Keep me updated.”

“I will. Thank you, Fiddleford.”

“Anytime, Stanford.”

~~~~~~~~~~

When Mr. Ford gave Mabel the remote for the old TV and went into the kitchen, she decided to use her awesome detective skills to figure out what year it was. If it was before Grunkle Stan lived here and opened the Mystery Shack, she must be pretty far back in time. But she had no way of knowing if it was 1999 or 2005 or the 50s.

The TV was old, but so was Grunkle Stan’s in her time. So Mr. Ford could have had this TV for a long time and didn’t want to replace it. 

Okay, so when was the TV made? Mabel didn’t know. Dipper would have known.

Okay, Grunkle Stan mentioned watching TV when he was a kid once or twice. So at least Mabel was when Stan was a kid, okay. 

Mabel turned the TV on and it was in color. Okay, so she wasn’t too far back in time. But the TV was playing a commercial for clear skin. The picture was gritty and all the people in it had puffy hair and long socks and oh my god was that woman wearing legwarmers?! Mabel grinned at seeing her favorite fashion on TV, but then her face dropped. When was she?

She tapped her chin and tried to think of how to know the date without being suspicious. She could ask Mr. Ford, but that might be suspicious. Mabel decided to start flicking through channels to try to guess what year she was in based on what was airing. A lot of shows were about cowboys, space, or game shows. Huh. Okay.

All the TV shows were definitely older. Nothing her dad would watch from when he was a kid, so if Mabel had to guess by everyone’s crazy air, the cheesy TV shows, and the music occasionally playing, she was in the 70s.

Huh. Okay. But she needed an exact year. So Mabel turned off the TV, saw an old radio on a desk, and turned it on to listen.

“... cuz it’s cold doesn’t mean you can't boogie, folks! So grab someone you wanna get warm with, turn up the music, and get your bodies warm in the coolest way possible! Here’s Night Fever, by the Bee Gees!”

Mabel grinned at the disco music. Her personal favorite song from these guys was More Than a Woman, but Night Fever would do. For a moment Mabel forgot her mission, jumped off the couch and left the blanket behind, and in the over-sized gray t-shirt Mr. Ford gave her while her clothes were drying, she danced along to the music, singing the chorus since those were the only words she knew.

“When you reach out for me. Yeah, and the feelin' is right,

Then I get night fever, night fever. We know how to do it! Gimme that night fever, night fever. We know how to show it!”

Mabel laughed at herself as she spun around in her socks and tried to do the point-and-hype dance she didn’t know the name to, but everyone did it when a disco song played.

Little did she know that Ford had returned to check on her, and was smiling at her as she shook her hips and waved her hair around and had fun. He leaned against the doorway and planned to let her dance in peace, but when she did a spin and saw him, she grinned and took his hand. “C’mon, Mr. Ford, come dance with me!”

Ford chuckled and shook his head. “No, no! I can’t dance!”

“You got two legs that aren’t broken?”

“Yes.”

“Then you can dance! C’mon!” Mabel encouraged, let him go when they were both in the middle of the room, and she started to dance again. “Don’t make me dance alone!” She even pulled an evil move and gave him puppy eyes. Rude.

Ford smiled slyly at her and hesitantly copied her boogie moves. It was true that Ford never liked to dance, but there was no one around but Mabel, and though he had only known her for an hour or more, he was sure she would never make fun of him.

And he was right.

“Wow! Look at you, Mr. I-Can’t-Dance! Yeah!” Mabel hopped on the couch, standing, and took Ford’s hand. “Here, I’ll spin you!”

Ford laughed and allowed it, doing a single spin, but then scooping her in his arms to dip her and then let her down, making her laugh as they continued to dance. 

“Alright alright, you crazy cats, that was Night Fever by the Bee Gees! It's a snowy day here in the heart of Oregon, with snow flurries coming in harder all night, but it should clear up by morning and be a fun day to go out and play! The date is January 26th, 1978 in case you gotta write a check or mail a thank you note to a friend or family member. I’m still writing letters for Christmas! We’ll be right back with some of your favorites after a word or two from our sponsors, so don’t go anywhere!”

Mabel stared at the radio. “Wow, 1978.” She breathed. Her parents were only kids right now, maybe only six or seven-years-old. Wow.

Ford chuckled. “I know, I’m still in the bad habit of writing ‘77.”

Mabel realized her mistake, but was grateful her host misunderstood her. “Me too.”

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m ready for dinner. How about some ramen noodles?”

“Yes, please! Can we play a game after we eat?”

“Sure. I don’t have many board games, but I do have a deck of cards.”

“Do you know any card tricks?!”

“A few.” Ford admitted, wiggling his fingers. “There are some advantages to having more fingers than average.”

Mabel grinned up at him and followed him to the kitchen for dinner.

[sagendipity]

reminder i'm sage i used to be notplanningshit until i accidentally deleted my blog so now im reposting my works!

info: quackity x reader, gn!reader, hurt/comfort, no warnings

on frizzy hair and the pursuit of perfection

Intellectually, in the rational side of your brain, you know that what you’re feeling is stupid.

You see the Instagram posts talking about the importance of self-affirmation and mental health. You see the tweets saying that people are more than their family’s perception of them. You realize that having a condescending and judgmental family is almost a right of passage for your generation.

These are all things you know, intellectually. But knowing something intellectually does jack shit for actually convincing your heart of whatever you know. You can yell at yourself all you want, but it’s clearly not your rational brain making you tear up at yet another text from your dad that was along the lines of “cool, could be better, though.”

You just want someone, just once, to celebrate an achievement with you. You want to be excited to share something with someone, without fear of them scoffing in the face of your pride and excitement. In your family- hell, in the world, certainly- someone has always done better, and you’re damn sure to be reminded of such.

It’s been years of this same behavior, ever since you can remember. It’s not just your dad, either, it’s your whole family- aunts, uncles, grandparents, cousins. The whole town you grew up in had this haughty, arrogant air about it, where everyone was constantly competing, even if there was no reason for it. Take the hardest classes, get the least sleep, get the biggest scholarship. Even your friends would flex their better test scores at you, and refuse to help you with the homework, in case you somehow got a better score on a test than them. You know it’s how they were raised, they’re just a product of their environment and don’t know how bad it hurts, but it still stung then, and probably always will. You’re still in contact with a few of them, and it’s just more of the same whenever you exchange a handful of quick texts every couple months.

You know you should stop giving information about your achievements to them, but when your dad texts and asks how you are, there’s not much you can reply with other than “good, got a promotion at work!” From there, it’s a slippery slope of him asking what new benefits you got, and then the judgmental few moments where the gray dots disappear and reappear while he tries to compose his thoughts about your inadequacy in the least-abrasive way a middle-aged man can. That is to say, not un-abrasively at all. In fact, his words are often delivered with the finesse of low-grit sandpaper on soft wood.

Well, could be more. Work harder and maybe you’ll get an increase next month. I got a lot of bonuses at work when I was your age. All you have to do is take the bad shifts and get some good customer reviews. You’ll get there.

You stare at the fresh new message on your phone screen before clicking it off with a bone-deep sigh, your eyes betraying your rational side by, again, tearing up. You shove the heels of your hands into your eyes and rub until the tears are forced away and you see spots.

That’s how Alex finds you, sat on the foot of your shared bed with your hands rubbing fiercely at your eyes. He’s probably just come to grab a hoodie- the setting sun brings with it a cool breeze that washes through your open windows and cools the house from the warmth it’d gathered from the day’s sun.

“You good?” He asks, opening his closet door and pulling out a hoodie. He wrestles it on over his head as he waits for your response- when he pushes his head out the other end, hair mussed and static-y, you still haven’t answered. “Baby?”

He comes and sits down next to you. Your eyes, red-rimmed but still dry, track his movements before flicking to catalog every tuft of disheveled hair protruding from his head. With a superficial smile, you reach up to smooth his long, black locks back and down into place. It doesn’t matter; he’s going to slip on a beanie sooner or later, but for now, you distract yourself by combing gentle fingers through the soft strands.

“Not that I don’t appreciate this,” Alex murmurs, brown eyes searching your face for an answer to what has you upset. “But what’s wrong?”

“Just my dad,” you whisper, not trusting your voice not to crack. You avoid his gaze, keeping your eyes fixed stubbornly on his hair as you finish your work. “There. You looked like a hedgehog.”

He huffs a little laugh, but scoots closer to you and grabs a hand out of your lap- you’d curled your hands into tight fists, your nails digging little red crescents into your palm. He uncurls the hand he’s holding and reaches for the other, but you save him the work by instead grabbing onto your own thigh tightly, redirecting the frustration. He rubs small circles into the aching skin of your other palm while he waits for you to gather yourself and explain, now that the ice has been broken on the topic.

“He always acts like whatever I do is just not quite good enough for him. They all do- him, my mom, even my fucking friends.” You rub your free hand down your face, trying to alleviate some tension. It does not work. “I don’t know why I’m still upset. They’ve been doing it forever.”

“That’s probably why you’re still upset. You hope they’d grown up enough to stop doing that.” Alex presses his thumb into the center of your palm. It grounds you, and you swallow around the lump in your throat.

“It’s not even a matter of immaturity- it’s not as simple as a pissing contest. It’s just who they are. They don’t think perfection exists, but they want me to achieve it anyways.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. That sounds exhausting.”

He sounds so sincere, so genuine, like the idea of you being treated this way is deeply upsetting to him. You’d never really… experienced that. Someone recognizing your struggle, and admitting that it must fucking suck is something you’d never been graced with.

His brow is furrowed in a display of concern, eyes gentle and searching. He’s not lying, he means what he said, and he’s not going to follow it up with a “but-,”.

Eyes beginning to sting again, you lean forward until you’re resting your forehead on his shoulder. The soft fabric of his hoodie immediately calms you, along with the warmth you can feel emanating from him. It makes sense, after all, that the personification of pure sunshine would have such warmth about them.

Alex scoots forward, gathering you more closely in his arms, his legs awkwardly folded so that you can sit right in front of him. His hands come up to hold you, one fisting in the fabric of your sweatshirt, and the other resting on the back of your neck, gentle, but firm. You let out a shuddering breath, squeezing your eyes shut tightly. Not going to cry.

“I got a promotion at work,” you mutter, taking a long, deep breath. You brace yourself, waiting for a dismissive response. “That’s what set my dad off- I got- he-.”

Your voice cracks, and you trail off with a small sigh, clutching at Alex’s hoodie even tighter. It’s thick and soft under your fingers, and you knead at it like a cat.

“A promotion?! Baby, that’s amazing!” Alex pulls back just enough to take a glance at you, his own expression steeling from excitement back to sadness as he sees that you are still fighting back tears. “Sweetheart, I think you’re the only person to ever cry after getting a promotion.”

A little laugh escapes your chest, huffy and wet, but still a laugh. Alex’s lips curl into a smile as he reaches up to smooth back some of your stray hairs, like you’d done for him a moment or two ago. You smile, reaching up to intercept his hand, and lace the two of you’s fingers together.

He squeezes your hand where it’s resting in his grip, looking at your linked fingers briefly. “Also, your family is wrong.”

“About what specifically?” You huff, wiping at your eyes for hopefully the final time.

“About perfection not existing. It does, and I know exactly what it looks like.” Despite the serious words, Alex is fighting back a smile. You narrow your eyes at him, already anticipating the next thing he’s going to say. “It looks like you, dumbass.”

You groan, feeling a hot blush rise to your cheeks immediately. You tip forward to bury yourself in Alex’s neck, this time hiding your flustered face and stupidly happy grin.

“I can feel your smile against my neck, you know.”

“Oh, fuck off-.”

With the hand that’s on the back of your neck, Alex coaxes you out of hiding just to press a kiss to your forehead. “Really. I am proud of you. I don’t want you to be afraid to tell me about your achievements because of what your family has done to you.”

“Okay,” you whisper again, voice thick with emotion. “Thank you.”

He hums in response, tilting his head and looking at you with what can only be described as pure fondness in his eyes. Then, he leans down to meet you for a delicate kiss, and your eyes finally stop stinging.

[tparker48]

"Your task is simple noobie, sneak into our opponent's team and get intel on who to look out for. And do not get caught, we won't be able to reach you in there" his captain said.

"Understood, I'll be in and out before you know it" the tiny would crawl underneath the gap of locker room doors as he walking into the area. The tiles slightly pale as the air smelled of old sweat. Carefully, he made his way toward one of the lockers as he climbed the hole along the panel to the top. Thankfully he picked one that wasn't too noisy as his shoes hit latched on the ends.

He climbed all the way to the top as he perched himself upon an edge as he heard the doors begin to open. Each of the players would shift themselves into the area the sound of cleats and banging shoulder pads came closer. As they came into view, the little would duck a little as he readied his camera.

"Man was that an interesting skrim match. I swear that shoulder nearly knock me off my feet"

"Heh, you that heavy dude. You're almost light as a feather. But speaking of feet, mine are nearly killing me with that running we've been doing"

"Man, they must be really packin this year" the little guy said holding his camera. listening amongst the crowd of players as each conversed with one another. At the same time, he would begin to take pictures from his phone as he scanned and snapped each number and player they see. But there was a particularly bunch that caught his attention the sound of ruckus echoed through the lockers. A hoard of players would begin to swarm the locker doors as each got ready to change from there gear.

"Good work boys, freshen up and get ready for the game tomorrow. And sure to plenty of rest" the coach said among them. The little guy tried to take a picture of him, but sea of players would keep him out of frame before losing him. But a sudden ruckus would soon to turn up below him as the two players were caught in an argument.

"Next time you decide to catch the ball 27, make sure you can actually catch" he heard from below. He held his camera over the edge as he took pictures at the two.

"Get off my case 60! You're the one who threw it too far"

"Not my fault you can't catch think faster than you. Psh, might as well stick to line"

"Ooo note, players 27 and 60 have no coordination. This'll be usueful for tomorrow" the little guy said.

"I'll show you who should stick to line back" one of the players would tackle into the other as they were sent into the locker. Its startled the little guy at first as he continued taking pictures. At that point, the commotion would be to get attraction as the other players would start to gather around.

"Fight! Fight! Fight!" They echoed through the locker room.

"Ooo ho ho, now this this is some useful info. Just let them go at take picture and numbers. Simpl-"

"Hey 26! Brace yourself!" Number 60 would go in for a tackle as the both the players crashed into the locker. The force behind it would shake the frame as it distorted the little guy's balance. Before he could get his footing back, he fell of the lockers as he tumbled to the ground

"Please land somewhere soft! Please land somewhere soft!" The little yelled as he fell to the ground. His vision constantly turning before becoming dark with a white surface in front of him. He blinked his eyes for a moment as he slowly got up and looked at the surface. A cushioned pad would be underneath him as he gave a deep sigh of relief. He soon began to stand back to his feet as the as it went to get off and pat himself down. "Oh Thank goodness,for a second there i thought i was gonna land somewhere wor-..." standing on the bench, the little guy started to look up as pillars of players towered around the table. Each of them peering down at the little guy standing in the center of the table.

"What's a little guy doing in here?"

"I don't know, but he picked the place to snoop around. Probably stealing something".

"Let me at em, i'll show him something he can snoop into"

"Eheh, now now guys. Let's not be too hasty. I um...i can explain" the little guy says backing into the pad. The players getting even more closer to the table.

"Now now boys, that's no way to treat a little. Allow me.." The team captain would push a few players aside as the he stood at the front of the table. Moving himself a little closer as his hair blocked the light overhead. "Apologies for them, they tend to get a little roudy when they see someone smaller than them. What's brings you here little one? Never seen someone the of football around here"

"I-I....**ahem** im simply passing through. Heard some commmotion and...decided to look into it. Didn't want to cause any attention"

"Cause the attention huh? Well you certainly are beyond that point" the team captain soon saw a glare from his vision as he looked to the little camera in the pile. The little guy froze for a bit as two finger rose over head a picked it up. "Hmph! Passing through huh? Looks to me like you were taking pictures" he eyed the camera for a bit before seeing a symbol from another university. "Ah i see, so the they're snooping on us huh? We got ourselves a spy boys!" The team captain held up the camera into the air as many squinted at it, but their gaze soon turned downward as the furrowed their look down at the little guy.

"W-what no! I wasn't spying at all. Just hear me out-"

"Sorry little one, evidence spells clear as day. So the other team wasn't to know more about us huh? Heh, well then lets give them what they ask for. Boys? Form a line" with an echoed chuckle, the would line themselves, behind the captain as he stood in front of the table.

"Gah!" The little guy would try and hop off the table, but a thumb would rest on his legs.

"Ah ah ah, can't have you running off just yet. And to make sure you don't" the captain would pull out a patch of tape as he laid it across the little guy's legs.

"Hey! Wha-what are you doing!"

Giving you the info you wanted" the captain would turn his back towards the little guy on table as he unfastened his pants. Pulling them down, his round glutes would stick out partially as he hover the crack over.

"Th-this is insane, what if your coach comes back and sees you doing this?" The little would pry at the tape, but he wasn't able to get a good hold.

"The coach's gone for today, which means its just you and us. And we hehe, have a very special gift for your data" the captain would soon drop to the table as his ass planted ontop of the little guy. He felt his cheeks spread a little as the sound of little muffles echoed from underneath.

The little guy's world would be dark, but the warm smell still remained as he pushed his hands between the ass crack. With each push, he could feel the hairs along the cracks length and in between it, the hole clenching at him as he bucked against it. "Hey! This isn't funny, get...off of me!".

"Sure thing. But first, your gift" as the captain sat down firmly onto the table, he would soon begin to spread his left cheek away from the other as the wall of ass planted ontop of the little guy. The sound of churning echoed above him before the hole he pushed against began to open up, before the little knew it, a warm scent escaped from inside as his nose scrunched at the smell of it.

"There go, fresh data just for you. I hope you like it"

"Augh! Come on, seriously. Get off me alrea-" before the little could finish, a rush of hot air burst into him as the smell followed behind it. The captain would feel the seat begin to warm as he chuckled to himself. Feeling the little hands underneath pounding against his. Ass as released another one. At that point, the little guy's eyes would begin to water as a second rush of air blew into him.

About a few more seconds passed before the captain began to stand back up. But not before rubbing his ass in place as the sound of grunts sounded underneath. "Aah, now i feel much better. Been holding that in since practice".

"You...are a bastard you know!" The little guy coughed.

"Heh, such harsh little words for a squirt. I do hope a little gas didn't get the better of you"

"Peh, hardly"

"Good, cause the rest of the of the team want to give you some data too" the two of them looked to the other players as they looked at the little guy with eager anticipation. "He's all yours boys. Oh and, do be sure to drop him off at the other team's place".

"With pleasure" one of the players behind him said as he stood forward. Peering down at the little as the captain went out. His shadow casted over the little guy as a little smirk came across his face.

"Ehehe..please rethink about this" the little said sweating.

"Oh i've thought of it alright" the player would seperate his legs apart as he moved them along the length of the table until his ass hovered over the little guy's head. Pulling his pants down, he spread both cheeks apart as he as aligned it with his face. "I'd hold your breath if I were you" as the player said that, his ass would move closer as the area darkened. As it sat to the table, it would plant down on his shoulders. Leaving his face to be in the center as his hole winked against his cheeks. "Unlike the captain, i like to have things much close and personal against my hole"

The little guy would feel the force of his hole mush into him as its wrinkled skin still had a little sweat in between. He tried kicking his legs from behind to get his attention, but he only received a firm press from the hole above as it slowly moved in place. As it did, the hole would begin to open up as the as a fart came out in firm bursts. The hole clamping back onto to his face each time as the farts ringed through his ears.

"Grgh! Stop it already!"

"Sorry squirt, i ain't stoppin til every bubble inside me is out and blown into you" the player sat down a little more as the hole covered over the side of the little guy's face "so sit tight". Mire churns would echo from inside him as the table once again started to feel warm. The warm smell following behind as it resonated strongly underneath him.

Another few seconds passed as the players farts soon stopped. As it started to get up, he poked a finger against the back of the little guy's head as he felt him slide off against it. "Thanks for the release squirt".

"Hah....hah...please, no more farts for lord sakes"

"Quit your whining but mat, you got the rest of us to tend to" a bigger players would step into the light as the towered over head. He also spread his ass apart as he hovered overhead. "Now just keep your head juust like that for.." As the the big player casted overhead, the little guys vision would soon go dark.

An hour later:

The other team would just now be finishing up practice as each went to change there gear. Some of them talking amongst each other while others went and trained a bit more. Suddenly, they heard a flurry of knocks on the enterance of the locker as a shadow showed up before disappearing.

"Hmm, wonder who that could be" one the players went to go open the open, but found no one outside. The only thing standing there was as small twisting jar. "Hmm, there's a note" bringing it inside, he read it to the other players as the sound stared puzzled at it. "Here is your data. Be sure to get it cleaned up. Winky face? The hell does that mean?" As the player said, they soon heard loud bangs coming from the jar as the one them slowly went to open it. Untwisting the lid, they were all met with a foul smell as a jock would stored inside. Along with the little guy as he popped out of it gasping for fresh air.

"Holy crap! What the hell happened?"

"The smells, so..so many smells. Who'd think that many players could smell that bad" the little said climbing out.

"They, what do you mean?"

"I'll tell you later. For now im just gonna...lay here for a while" the little guy would sprawl onto the table as he shut his eyes in defeat. Leaving the other players confused as they looked back at the tired tiny.

"Dang, they must've really did a number on you" his captain said.

"Ugh, you have no idea"

[domthedevil]

Can I request a angsty smut piece with Mammon and an MC that is friendly to everyone but actually loves him back but thinks he doesn’t have a high opinion of them because of all the insults? Like they believe them and it makes them sad so they think that their feelings are unrequited? Any gender pronouns are fine if you have time please -🐻

I’m sorry it’s so long! My angst isn’t very good (a little rushed) but I hope you enjoy! I had fun writing this~! 👻

Warnings: sad times, but then spicy times

Fateful Misunderstanding gn!mc

“N-not that I want to spend more time with MC.”

“Th-there’s no way THE great Mammon would fall for a mere human.”

“Hey! My one and only true love is Goldie here!”

It hurt hearing him say it over and over again. Insisting that you weren’t close, that he didn’t need you, that he didn’t want you. It hurt. Yet all you wanted was to hold his hand, hug a little longer, kiss his cheek, tell him how much you really...love him.

You shouldn’t have been surprised. He’s a demon, and not just any demon. THE Avatar of Greed. And knowing how popular he is with just about everyone made you feel as if he were out of your league. Why would he ever be interested in some human...?

But when he noticed the way you frowned around him, when you smiled your usual smile to everyone else, he started to regret his behavior. He wanted your smile more than anyone. How can he earn it back?

“MC, come watch a movie with me tonight.”

“Are you sure? I mean...you want to watch it with me?”

“O-of course!” Mammon was surprised and almost flinched at your hurt expression. What had he done? “MC...please come...I miss spending time with ya.”

He did? Mammon missed you? Your heart ached, hoping desperately that meant something. But not letting your heart take the lead just yet.

Later that night you were laughing and playing games with each other as the movie, long forgotten by you both, played. It was so easy to forget his words when he treated you like this. When you were alone and relaxed, everything was perfect. So why didn’t he feel the same way?

“MC. Im glad you’re smiling again.” His voice was soft and warm. But you couldn’t let hope draw you in any further. Lest you get hurt even more.

“Thanks. I’m sorry it’s hard to be around me. But I’m happy we’re spending time together.”

“Hard to be around? What are ya sayin?”

“Well...I know you don’t...like me very much.”

“WHAT!?”

You jumped slightly as you leaned away from him. You were both on the couch he kept just clean enough for the two of you. A look of shock and horror ran across his face. A face that said “Are you insane?”.

“MC! You’re the one I want to spend the most time with. I don’t not like you! I mean...” Mammon panicked as he spoke. Mortified that you’d think he...didn’t love you. “MC...I love you.” His red face still held a look of shock. Did he really just say it.

A few tears fell from your eyes as his words hit you again. But this time it wasn’t the gut punch they’d always been. The grip around your heart loosened for the first time in a long while.

“You always say...how much you don’t like me. How much you don’t want to be alone with me. I just thought...you really hated me.”

“Don’t cry! Ah, MC!” Mammon threw his arms around you. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry...”

You held him back, as tightly as you’d always wanted to. Pulling away only slightly, just enough to press his forehead to yours, Mammon wiped your tears way with the pads of his thumbs. Though your eyes still watered, you were soon smiling with joy.

“I love you too Mammon.”

Mammon’s heart almost stopped in his chest. He had already forgotten he said it. But hearing you say it now made him forget any embarrassment or regret he had. Without being able to stop it, Mammon’s lips were on yours. Soft at first but hungrier as you kissed him back.

Placing your hands on his face, Mammon almost purred against your lips. More. More of your touch. More of you. Parting your lips with his, Mammon’s smooth tongue played with yours. Fighting yours in an endless battle. It was like you were both pouring as much as you could into each other. Only when you both needed air did you pause a moment. Panting and gasping for air, you couldn’t believe the look of desire you saw on his face. You wondered if you looked the same. Because all you wanted was him.

“Mammon...”

“C’mon.” Mammon picked you up and tossed you on his bed not too far from the couch you shared.

Gently he eased you down, hovering over you to see your face. A frustrated growl left him as he kissed you again.

“Do ya know how long Ive wanted to do this?” He punctuated his rhetorical question with a rougher kiss. “How long I wanted to tell ya?”

Bracing your hands against his chest, Mammon pressed himself against you. You wish you could ask him the same things. So badly did you want to hold him, kiss him, be kissed.

You felt his hips rut against your leg slightly. You could feel how hard his dick was. Your own hips moved, returning the motion against your own. A groan slipped from Mammon who buried his face against your neck. You moaned his name as your hands ran down his back. Kisses planted themselves against your neck, making a chill run through you. Mammon silently communicated with you. Both of you moving apart for a moment to remove your clothing.

He undressed you slowly, taking in every inch of your perfect body. Curves, scars, freckles, anything and everything on your body, he made sure to memorize. On the contrary, you were too excited to get him naked. He laughed as you made quick work of every button and zipper. But he stayed in his underwear, there was a lot ahead of you and he didn’t want to ruin the surprise just yet.

Parting your legs he lapped at the sensitive tip of your sex. Sucking and licking experimentally. The volume of your moaning told him just what you liked. His thumbs dug into the underside of your thighs as you pressed the against his head, reacting to a pleasure reaching your core.

“Mammon...That feels good. So good.” Your hushed voice made his cock twitch. Hearing you say his name with such need was too arousing.

His fingers, slick with lube, pressed into you one by one. The feel of his tongue on the tip of your heat kept you relaxed while he stretched you. Feeling not only how many fingers inside you, but how deep they anchored inside had you gasping. Scissoring you open, his fingers pressed against your soft insides.

“Fuck, MC. I want to give ya more, but-! I don’t know if I can wait any longer...”

“I want it Mammon. Just like I’ve always wanted you.”

“I love you so much MC...”

With his usual cocky smile, he rested on his knees to remove his dark underwear. Stroking his throbbing cock, Mammon watched your reaction. He was long and thick, you could feel your mouth water slightly. Was he going to fit? Blushing deeper than you’d ever seen, Mammon rubbed the tip of his dick against your entrance.

“Don’t look at me with such hungry eyes...it makes me wanna take ya even more.”

“I am hungry Mammon. I...I’m ready.”

The large tip slipped inside you with some resistance. Mammon wished he’d taken more time to prep you. But you loved how you felt stretched out by his thick cock. Easing in slowly, Mammon braced himself on his hands on either side of you. His panting was heavy. A visible sweat on his forehead. You were so tight, your walls hugged him perfectly. He was almost too scared to move. Already wanting to come. Your own moan echoed slightly as he moved in and out of you thoughtfully. Mammon was almost hypnotized by the expression of pleasure you were making. He’d dreamed about this. He’d always wanted to make this happen somehow.

His hips picked up pace as your moans egged him on. Hearing you enjoy his cock, his love, and his rhythm made him want more. Your own hands gripped at his white locks as you kissed at his neck. Nibbling every other spot. When he reached a deep spot that made you clench around him, your teeth sank in slightly harder. Earning a deep growl from him.

“It’s so good...” it left you like a chant. “It’s so good, Mammon. I love you.”

“MC...Come for me. Let me hear you say my name.”

“Yes. Mmmnnn! Mammon...Mammon!”

Gripping your hips, he slammed his cock inside you, aiming for the familiar tight spot he felt before. Closing his eyes, he concentrated hard on not finishing just yet. He needed to feel you come around him. It wasn’t long after that the stars in your vision began to blur. Lips crashing against his, tongue tangling in a heated kiss. You were on the edge, feeling your core tighten unbearably so.

“Mammon...coming...hmmm.”

“Good MC, me too.”

As your kiss continued, you both fell over the edge quickly. Feeling him fill you up to the brim. You could feel how much pent up cum he was shooting inside you. It took a moment before you felt him empty himself completely.

“S-sorry, I didn’t know it’d be so much.”

After cleaning up, sharing softer kisses and cuddling up under his blankets, you felt so elated once more. Now you knew how he really felt. You knew how you really felt. And that was that Mammon was one of your deepest loves. And he was thinking the same thing.

[peaceoutofthepieces]

27, 7 and 8! Andriel or Kandriel my love❤️

kandreil my love because it just freaking works

7. “I’m not jealous.”

8. “You’re jealous, aren’t you?”

27. “What’s going on here?”

Kevin wasn’t stupid. He could tell when Andrew and Neil were at odds; it was clear when put in contrast to how in-sync they usually were. They made it obvious, with Andrew going on his drives alone and Neil not following him up to the roof, neither of them wriggling their way into the other’s bed the instant they thought Kevin was asleep. It was clear in the way Neil latched onto Kevin instead. He threw himself into their night practices while Andrew sat silently in the stands, but he also tailed Kevin throughout the day, seeking him out instead of Andrew in any pockets of free time.

He wasn’t stupid, so he could also tell that Andrew was ignoring him, and he knew this must have been why.

But he also wasn’t very brave when it came to them. Which meant he took longer than he should have to do anything about it.

Cornering Andrew wasn’t a smart move—anyone who knew him knew this. Kevin might have been upset with him, and a little bit pissed off, but he didn’t have a death wish. No, he knew Andrew was avoiding Neil more than Kevin. So he’d wait until Neil went off somewhere and simply left him and Andrew in the dorm alone.

It came about much quicker than expected, but that was fine. It was manageable. Kevin was still prepared. He would approach this calmly. He’d be straightforward, and fairly blunt, as was his usual, but he wouldn’t let Andrew rile him, wouldn’t let anything under his skin, as was his usual. He’d be perfectly calm, and perfectly civil.

He sat himself down on the couch, looked at where Andrew was smoking on the desk by the window, and blurted, “You’re jealous, aren’t you?” in a manner too harsh to be civil and too nervous to be demanding.

Andrew looked over at him slowly, brow already arched. “What?”

Kevin took a deep breath. He’d have to run with it now. “You’re jealous, and that’s why you’re mad at me as well.”

“Who’s mad?” Andrew retorted.

“No, you’re not getting away with that. I know when you’re ignoring me, and I know the difference in you having a bad week and you being an ass.”

He clamped his mouth shut as it grew too snappy, but Andrew simply stared at him. It could have passed as bored, if that eyebrow wasn’t arched even higher than before. Kevin swallowed and tried to get onto the track he’d set before his mouth ran away from him. He’d get this out, and he wouldn’t let Andrew ignore him or bully him into thinking he was overreacting. They might have got off on telling him he was a drama queen even more now that he had the tattoo to match, but he was one of few who knew Andrew was worse, and that was enough to remind him he was just in calling the blond out.

“I don’t know why you’re fighting with Neil, but you don’t get to take it out on me,” he said firmly. “Neil’s im—my friend. I won’t apologise for spending time with him because you’re having some sort of hissy fit.”

Andrew’s mouth twitched, but he swiped a hand over it and his expression was blank once more. “You think I’m jealous—” he said slowly, “—because Neil is spending time with you?”

“Yes,” Kevin insisted.

Andrew flicked ash of the side of his cigarette and cocked his head, sweeping his eyes over Kevin in a way that suggested he was amused. “Why?”

Kevin opened his mouth, closed it again. Why what? “Huh?”

“Why would I be jealous—“ oh yes, definitely amused now, “—of your lovely friendship?”

“Because…” Kevin blew out a breath. “I don’t know, Andrew. You’re dramatic. Stop trying to brush me off when I know you’re ignoring me, and it must be because Neil’s coming to me while you two are fighting.”

Andrew considered him. He stubbed out his cigarette on the windowsill and tossed it carelessly over the edge, then pulled the window closed and twisted to face Kevin. His examination made Kevin feel twitchy, but he valiantly kept himself still, and eventually Andrew hummed.

“Not because of your ridiculous crush on him, then?” Andrew said flatly.

Kevin blanched. “My—what?”

Andrew tsked, rolling himself off the desk and strolling over. He planted himself in front of Kevin with an unimpressed look. “You didn’t want me to treat you like an idiot. Return the favour.”

“Andrew, I—“ Kevin trailed off. What could he say? I don’t know what you’re talking about? Andrew would probably pull a knife on him.

Because of course he wasn’t an idiot. Of course he knew. He’d probably known all along.

Kevin was blushing, for heaven’s sake. There was no point in even attempting to lie. The last time he’d lied by omission to Andrew, he was rewarded with hands around his throat.

The reminder made him flinch, and Andrew caught it. He took a step back, eyes flashing as he noticed Kevin’s trembling. “Don’t be ridiculous, Kevin,” he said, a little too sharp for a comment Kevin thought was meant to be comforting.

“I wouldn’t,” Kevin stammered. “I mean, I know that it’s not—I’d never—“

“Christ, stop,” Andrew sighed, flicking a hand in the air as if he could bat Kevin’s nonsense away. “You’re hopeless.”

Kevin, indeed, continued to be hopeless. He was gaping like a fish, nothing but air going in or out. “Andrew,” he simply managed. It sounded pleading.

Andrew rolled his eyes. “I’m not jealous.” Before Kevin could fumble for something to respond with, he added, “And I’m not mad, you imbecile. Clearly I knew. I would have already disposed of you in your sleep if I was going to.”

Kevin made a strangled noise, and Andrew added, “But I’m not,” so Kevin nodded.

“And you won’t…” Kevin’s eyes widened. “Does Neil already—?”

“Neil is less than hopeless,” Andrew said. “If you don’t tell him he’ll never get it. You really should help him along.”

This was too much. Maybe it wasn’t anything at all. Maybe Kevin was dreaming, and this wasn’t happening, and Andrew was plotting his sleepy death right now in the real world. That seemed more likely. There was no way it was possible for Andrew to not only be accepting of Kevin’s affection for his boyfriend, but encouraging.

Then again, Andrew was nothing if not a contrary, defiant little creature.

He seemed amused again in the face of Kevin’s disbelief. “Maybe you are just as bad. If you want me to treat you like you’re smart, you’re going to have to do better than that. Tell me, why do you think Neil and I are ‘fighting’?” he air-quoted.

That made Kevin frown. “He stormed off a moment ago. He has been all week. And you’ve been grumpier than usual, and you aren’t doing any of the usual things together.”

“Pay a lot of attention to that, do you?” Andrew mused, still absolutely toneless. Before Kevin had a chance to defend himself, he continued. “You think it’s my fault.”

This was not a question, which was good, because Kevin would rather not answer. Which, of course, was answer enough.

“You don’t think,” Andrew prodded, “that Josten is having his own little crisis and blaming me, and clinging to you for any specific reason?”

Kevin was gaping again.

Andrew wouldn’t let him have a break. He tacked on, “You haven’t considered that I am not jealous because I also know your pathetic crush extends?” Kevin choked again; Andrew rolled his eyes again. “I am not blind, Kevin.”

“But you don’t…” Kevin couldn’t get the words out. It was ridiculous, because all he had to do was stand up, and he would tower over the other man. But for once, he didn’t feel small and meek because he felt he was in danger. After the work the Baltimore incident had made them put in, Kevin almost felt safer around Andrew than he had before. It very well might have been his affection tainting his opinion, but he didn’t much care. He knew what he was in for—who he was in for, and he knew that they were not safe in any conventional way, but that he was best off with them.

He’d given them his back all over again, and he hadn’t worried about it. His heart was an altogether different matter.

Andrew stepped closer to him again, gazing down at him with the same look he often gave Neil, when he thought the redhead was being particularly dense. “Oh, but I do.”

No. It didn’t count. Kevin hadn’t even finished the thought, so Andrew wasn’t confirming anything. He couldn’t even know what he meant. They were likely on completely different wavelengths.

But Andrew was leaning over Kevin now, bracing a hand on the back of the couch, and all of Kevin’s rational arguments fled as he short-circuited.

“Andrew,” he breathed, going for warning and ending up wavering.

Andrew, predictably, ignored him and leaned closer, his breath brushing Kevin’s face, until the door burst open.

The clatter of Neil’s shoes, and then his keys, was unmistakable, and Kevin felt panic rise in him as the steps drew closer and Andrew still didn’t move. He simply looked over Kevin’s head as the footsteps stopped abruptly.

Kevin squeezed his eyes shut.

“What’s going on here?” Neil asked. Then, harder, “Leave him alone, Drew.”

It was utterly backwards. Kevin was at fault here, even if Andrew was the one still leaning in. Neil should have been throttling him, like Andrew should have done already. Instead he was defending Kevin against Andrew, but still using the man’s shortened name as an endearment, measuring the middle ground effortlessly. Even if he was incredibly off target.

Andrew simply rolled his eyes at him. “I’m not threatening him, idiot.”

A beat of silence. “Then what are you doing?”

“Not sure yet.” Andrew’s gaze flickered down to Kevin again, and he seemed much closer than before. Kevin swallowed; Andrew smirked. “Kevin seems to like it, though.”

“Andrew,” Neil bit, a warning and a question.

Andrew gripped Kevin’s chin between thumb and finger, and dragged his head around to face Neil. “Look.” Andrew’s thumb tapped his bottom lip, and his breath hitched. Andrew raised a brow. “What does it look like to you?”

Kevin looked at Neil for the first time in this dream (nightmare? Who knew where it was leading) and found himself breathless for another reason.

It was a recent development, and it wasn’t. Kevin had always known Andrew was attractive, had always appreciated Andrew’s talent, had always confusingly, blindly desired Andrew’s presence. He had always admired Neil’s fire, had always known he was capable of great things, had always held him in a place in his heart he hadn’t realised had been occupied since they were children. He hadn’t thought about kissing them until recently. Or at least, he hadn’t realised he wanted to.

Now, seeing that exact fire in Neil’s eyes at Kevin’s defense, as well as his horrendously worn t-shirt and disgustingly bright shorts crinkled and sweaty from his run, Kevin knew he wanted to kiss him, and he knew it wasn’t a surface thing.

And Andrew knew it just as well, smug bastard that he was.

Neil only needed a moment of looking at him to say, very eloquently, “Oh.”

Andrew snorted. “Finally come to terms with it, have you?”

Neil glared at him, but Kevin couldn’t have been mistaking the blush creeping into his cheeks. Neil’s smile was slow as he looked back at him, and somewhat shy, and Andrew heaved another sigh and moved away to plop himself down on a beanbag. It meant Neil was watching him instead, and the odd, crazy crevice of hope that had been opening in Kevin started to cave, and then Andrew was waving Neil at him impatiently.

“Well?” he prompted.

Looking between them, Neil hesitated. He settled on Andrew long enough to ask, “Did you…?”

Andrew wordlessly shook his head.

“But, I can?”

Andrew raised a brow. “Ask him.”

Kevin was lost. But Neil was turning to him, and Kevin would always pay attention to Neil, no matter how begrudgingly. So he was listening very intently when Neil simply asked, “Kev, do you want me to kiss you?”

This elicited a noise that may have seemed tortured, and Neil took a step back, eyes widening. He shot Andrew a betrayed look, and the silent communication that passed between them was lost on Kevin, who was sure this had gone beyond a dream into a blackout-induced fantasy. He must have fallen dramatically off the wagon, and now he was completely out of it and his brain was running away on its own as a misplaced attempt at comfort.

Then Neil corrected himself. “Wait. Can I kiss you? Because—I think I’d like to.”

Andrew was right. Kevin was blind, and an imbecile, and worse than hopeless, and he could do nothing but give a jerky nod.

Neil’s face lit up, and then determination was mingling with his apprehension and his face was an inch away from Kevin’s and Kevin was demanding, “You think you’d like to?”

Neil jerked back.

“Fucking idiots,” Andrew grumbled. “Yes or no, Kevin.”

“Well, yes—“

Neil kissed him, and Kevin could not have dreamt this. No matter how much alcohol-aided imagination he had, the soft touch of Neil’s lips compared to the rough texture of his hand against Kevin’s cheek was too heavenly to be magicked-up. It was heart-wrenchingly real. Andrew’s eyes on them was just as heavy of a weight.

Kevin was only beginning to get the hang of himself and reciprocate whole-heartedly when Neil pulled back. His blue eyes were dark as he roamed them appreciatively over Kevin’s stricken face, and then he glanced at Andrew.

Looking for approval, Kevin realised, and followed suit.

All amusement was wiped from Andrew’s face. His eyes were just as dark as Neil’s and even more intense as he watched them, and in combination with Neil’s touch it stirred something low in Kevin’s gut. He pinched his own thigh discreetly and his blood thrummed at the nip of pain.

“I might,” Andrew said, dragging his gaze slowly to Kevin’s face, “be a bit jealous.” He used a foot to nudge Neil, who simply huffed, out of the way, and then he hooked that same foot around Kevin’s ankle and gave a deliberate tug.

Kevin descended into gleeful laughter, and felt only more elated when it meant Andrew was forced to come to him for his kiss.

Prompt List

[spinster-sisters]

Crush. PSH, JYN

TW: dom! Seonghwa, sub! Yunho, sub! Reader,threesome, exhibitionism, degradation (use of the words slut and whore), bondage (male receiving), Sir kink, overstim (kinda, idk how much counts as overstim but im putting it here anyway), excessive use of the word wet, panty kink, buldging, k so heres the deal, in this thing yunho has a crush on both the reader and seonghwa and seongwha is probably also attracted to men based on the way i wrote this but there is no actually mxm interaction PHYSICALLY, also fun fact at no point anywhere in this is there the letters Y/N cuz i have decided i hate that shit and istead u get excessive pet names.

WC: 4k

AN: this is 4k words of pure smut, like plot if you SQUINT right at the begnining but even that is pretty smutty. ngl its prettyy shit. im sorry lol. also this isnt specifically idolverse or nah, it could kinda go either way so thats that i guess.

Yunho had always had a crush on you, that much everyone knew, but when you and seonghwa began dating Yunho had decided to put his own feelings aside out of respect for both you and seonghwa. Maybe it worked for a while, a few months of being genuinely happy for his two friends finding love. Yeah, it was hard seeing one of his best friends get to touch you and talk to you in the way he wanted to, but the smiles that never left either of your faces were well worth it.

But then that night came.

He hadn't meant to see it. All of your friends had gone out to a crowded club, there was dancing and a lot of drinking. But with all the chaos of the night, nobody noticed when you and seonghwa slipped into the bathroom. A while later Yunho found himself needing to pee and made his way to the back of the club as well, but when he pushed open the door all thoughts of his original plans had left. There you were, spread out on the counter, chest heaving, tiny drops of sweat making their way down your neck. And there was seonghwa, standing between your legs slamming his hips into yours and a brutal pace, absolutely RUINING you. His back was to the door and your eyes were screwed shut, Yunho had only opened the door just far enough to see in so neither of the two of you had noticed him yet.

Yunho's first reaction was to close the door and pretend he hadn't seen anything, but he couldn't move, not once he heard the filth spewing seonghwas lips.

"My baby girl got so needy she needed me to fuck her with all of her friends around? What a little slut"

That was the first thing Yunho heard, and then whine that the words pulled out of you was damn near-pornographic, and it went straight to his dick. He only stood there for a few more moments before closing the door, but the damage had been done.

Did you guys fuck like this all the time? It felt so wrong, the perfect lovey-dovey couple Yunho had come to know were hiding such a dirty side to themselves.

Ever since that night, nothing has been the same. Yunho's thoughts of you turned more and more sinful than they had ever been, but there was something else. At first, Yunho thought it had just been the embarrassment of seeing such a private moment, but Yunho was now having the same amount of trouble meeting Seonghwas eyes as yours. Every time Yunho's mind drifted back to that moment Seonghwas figure was just as clear as yours, and although he didn't want to admit it, it was seonghwas words in the bathroom that made Yunho hard.

And that is how Yunho had come to discover that he had a crush and not one, but both of you. And almost every time Yunho took time to relive himself all he could image was seonghwas sharp and defined features manipulating your soft and supple ones into increasingly compromising positions, his calm voice eliciting those same desperate whines from you.

He knew this was fucked.

Yunho doesn't know at what point seonghwa became aware of his infatuation with himself and his girlfriend, maybe he had noticed him in the bathroom and chosen not to say anything, maybe mingi had told him one night in a slip of the tongue, maybe Yunho had told seonghwa himself while drunk. Either way, it all lead him to this moment. He was sitting in your bedroom with his back pressed into a wooden chair with seonghwa standing behind him binding his wrist together with a soft scarf you had lying around.

You sat on your bed observing the scene. This had all been seonghwa's idea, but you were more than willing. That being said watching your perfectly composed boyfriend secure the taller boy who had been stripped down to his boxers to a chair facing your bed was enough to have your face burning in the chilly room.

Seonghwa finished with the restraint and made his way in front of Yunho, who was already damn near star-eyed. Seonghwa reached out and clenched the man's jaw, forcing his eyes up to meet his own.

"Remember Yunho, you are here to watch. Not to touch. No matter how much you want to," seonghwa spoke in that calm domineering voice he reserved for moments like these. Yunho nodded eagerly as well as he could while his face was still in seonghwas grasp, his cheeks puffing out a little at the pressure.

Seonghwa let go of his face and ran his hand once through the younger boys' hair approvingly before both of their gazes fell on you.

You had been waiting patiently in the sweetest little lingerie set you could find. Seonghwa was still fully clothed, but he had a thing about having you look as pretty as possible before fucking you so hard you cried. With both of their attention now firmly on you, the cold of the room couldn't seem any further away, and with every step, seonghwa made twords you, you couldn't help but clench your thighs together in anticipation.

Finally, he stood before you, looking so beautiful it was unfair, close enough you could reach out and touch him. But you didn't, you knew better.

Seonghwa gave a wicked smirk at your sweet expectant face. The stage was finally set, and it was time for the show. He looked contemplative for a moment, before deciding on his first move.

"Lay back for me, baby"

You did exactly that, allowing your head to hit the soft blankets. Never breaking eye contact, however hard it was as your boyfriend looked ready to absolutely devour you. Careful not to block anything from Yunho's view seonghwa slowly climbed onto the bed on top of you using his hips to keep your legs in place and his arms coming down to cage your top half. He moved his head to your ear and spoke in his smoothest softest voice.

"Remember to be good sweetheart, we have a guest and I don't want to waste time punishing you tonight."

You whimper out a quiet "ok" before seonghwa placed a soft kiss on your temple. And he didn't stop there, your boyfriend only pulled back for a brief moment to observe your flushed face before diving back in.

Seonghwa was organized and neat in most aspects of life, but kissing was not one of them. His kisses are hard and wet. His exceptionally plump lips forced yours to follow his lead, prying your mouth open, nipping, and sucking at anything he could. Wet was the perfect word to describe it. Wet and amazing. Normally you would have waited for permission to touch him before swinging your arms around his neck pulling him closer but when his tongue found its way into your mouth toying with your own you needed someone to ground yourself.

To your surprise seonghwa had no objection to this instead threading his left hand through your hair pulling your head close as well, letting out a deep grunt in the process. His lips began to travel down to your neck and jaw, and now the sloppiness turned a little rougher. Seonghwa took a small break to speak, barely lifting his lips off your body but his voice still carried loud and clear.

" Don't hold back your sweet little cries, I'm sure Yunho would love to hear them"

Your mouth now free to cry out little by little at the way the cold air made contact with your now burning skin every time he moved. He was covering your skin in small red patches that would surely turn dark purple by tomorrow. You braced yourself on his shoulders when his lips came to rest of the swell of your chest. Seonghwas right had found its way under your knee lifting it a bit and caressing the underside of your thigh. You had finally become used to the sensation of his mouth on your body when he bit down. Hard.

You damn near choked. You threw your head back as a deep whine spilled sinfully out of you much louder than you intended. But it wasn't just you that was making noises, a deep guttural groan could be heard in harmony with your own from across the room. It was only then did you finally dare to turn your head to where Yunho sat. And you almost wished you didn't. The tall boy sat as hunched over as he could be, positively panting with desire his eyes staring, unblinking, and where you and your boyfriend were tangled together. Your eyes locked, Yunho was staring at you with so much hunger your heat throbbed, and your thighs clenched together. Seonghwas words cut through the tension bringing your attention back to him.

"My baby is so eager, looking so pretty as wrapped up for me. Just waiting for me to pull her apart."

You instinctively nodded.

"Yes, please. I'll be good I promise" you pleaded vacantly, still gripping your boyfriend for support. Seonghwas's right hand began to slide its way up the underside of your leg before moving around till he was palming the inside your leg.

"I know darling, I know you will"

A knowing smile graced his lips before he unhooked the clasp on your pretty bra, sliding it down your shoulders. You held your breath as he pulled himself back to sit on his heels still caressing your leg dangerously close to where you were currently making a mess of your nicest panties.

Seonghwa would never admit that he had a panty kink, but seeing you laid out for him in nothing but the thin little soaked scrap of fabric was scratching an itch that he didn't even know he had. He just had to take a moment to appreciate it.

Seonghwa turned his head twords Yunho. And speaking in that same clear strong voice.

"Yunho"

The boys eyed shaped up to meet seonghwas. Yunho, aside for the occasional moan or groan and been relatively silent up until that point. He looks at seonghwa expectantly. Your boyfriend sighed. Shaking his head for a moment.

"Yunho, when I talk to you I expect words." As he spoke seonghwa tightened his grip on your thigh, you let out a tiny moan. Yunho's eyes flashed to your thigh for a moment before realizing his distraction then flying back to seonghwas face. It was like he couldn't get the word out fast enough.

"Yes?" The word tumbled from his lips haphazardly.

"Yes, what?" Your boyfriend responded, clearly unamused, a scowl making its way onto his face.

Yunho visibly panicked, eyes darting around the room quickly. He didn't know what he missed. He looked at you for help. You knew what he missed, but you had no way of telling him.

"Umm," he began, still searching for the answer. Just when seonghwa looked like he was about to cut in a look of realization hit Yunho. He remembered the night not too long ago that he had come home from dinner, expecting the house to be quiet only to hear a specific word scream from your lips as he passed seonghwas room.

"Yes, sir?" Yunho asked, his eyes wide and pleading.

Seonghwa couldn't help his look of satisfaction.

"Good boy,"

The words made Yunho's face light up.

"Now Yunho, what would you like to see?" Your boyfriend asked. This question clearly took Yunho by surprise.

"Come on, I know you have been imagining me and my doll doing all kinds of things," as he spoke his hand finally slipped inside your panties. Two cold fingers sliding between your folds. You shudder out a gasp. You were wet, unbelievably so. It took so little for his fingers to slip through your slick, toying with you like he had done so many times before.

Yunho momentarily lost his focus on seonghwa instead looking at the imprint of his hand through the fabric. He looked starved. But his eyes returned to seonghwa once again.

"So, what is it. What was your favorite thing to imagine when you touch yourself." As he spoke his fingers began to make slow tight circles to your clit. You moaned out again and grasped wildly for a moment to ground yourself against the blankets.

Yunho once again looked at a loss for words, this time unable to peel his eyes away from the dark stain in your panties and the forearm connected to the hand in them.

Yunho licked his lips slowly before tearing his eyes away to look at seonghwa. He spoke slowly, his words were shaky but certain.

"Please, just fuck her. Hard, like you, always do." He looks embarrassed by his choice, but your heart leaped at the idea, you wanted seonghwa inside you right at that very moment. He was slowly working you into an orgasm and he had barely even done anything yet.

"Really? Is that all you want?" Your boyfriend asked. "No special requests?" The circles on your bud speed slightly as he spoke. Your legs began twitching with every stroke. You had been so wound up this whole time that along with every jerk a small whine was seeping past your lips.

"Please, just," Yunho took a moment to gather his thoughts " please, I just want to see what you both look like when you ruin her."

Seonghwa looked at the boy pensively for a moment.

"Ruin her?" Your boyfriends intense gazed finally made its way back to you "that I can do" and almost exactly as his sentence finished your first wave of orgasm crashed over you. You were now spilling whines freely and rocking your hips into your boyfriend's large hands. You closed your eyes tight for a few moments. Before thinking about the exchange that just took place. Ruin you? Seonghwa was a serious man when he wanted to be, and if he promised to ruin you, you knew he would. And honestly, it was a little scary.

Finally, you opened your eyes. Your boyfriend had been watching you through your high, not stopping his hand and now that you were coming down a dull pain replaced began to radiate up from your core. You reached down to grab his wrist

"Wait. Please-" you began to plead, looking into your boyfriend's eyes, but your words were cut off.

"Well, Yunho. If I'm going to ruin her I'm going to have to prepare her. Wouldn't want her to break" you whined at his words as his hand began to speed up once again over your extra sensitive nub. He then glanced over at the boy who seemed just as transfixed by your pleasure-filled face as seonghwa. "unless you want that"

"Please," was all Yunho could force out "I just want to see"

Seonghwa finally pulled his hand out from the ruined fabric. Despite the numbing pain that came from his handy work you were already missing the sensation and your hand on his wrist tightened again.

Seonghwa let out a sigh.

"Sweetheart, how am I supposed to let Yunho see what I can do to you if you still have these panties on," he asked in a disappointed tone. You reluctantly released his wrist.

Seonghwa finally found the time to pull his sweater over his head, tousling his hair in the process. Now it was both you and Yunho gawked. It was something both you and Yunho had seen a thousand times, but there was still something awe-inspiring about the way he looked kneeling over you with his bare golden honey skin on display.

If seonghwa noticed the stares he didn't address them as he moved to pull your ruined panties down your legs. The anticipation was clear on Yunho's face as the wet fabric slowly made its way down your legs. Finally, he pulled them off the tip of your toes. Because of you and seonghwas position, Yunho still couldn't see your heat. To your surprise, seonghwa stood up quickly from the bed. Your panties still between his fingers. He looked at Yunho.

"You want them?" He asked letting them dangle from his hand that was still glistening with your juices. Yunho choked out a "yes, sir"

Satisfied with his answer seonghwa walked over to the man, leaned over him, and slipped the fabric into his bound hands.

Your boyfriend then returned to you on the bed, but instead of climbing on top of you, he sat down beside you.

"Open up baby"

It may be a bit late in the game, but you were finally coming to terms with what is happening. Yunho, one of your closest friends is about to watch you get fucked by your boyfriend, you had to look away from the man at the sudden realization. Slowly, you opened your legs and you heard the sharp intake of breath that could only be from Yunho.

"What do you think?" Your boyfriend asked pulling your legs apart even more. You shut your eyes tight, feeling embarrassed.

"It's pretty" was all Yunho could Say. You flushed even deeper.

"I know, isn't it? My baby has such a pretty pussy" you choked.

"Open your eyes sweetheart, I want to look at you"

Slowly you opened them, still keeping your gaze firmly on your boyfriend's face.

"No need to be embarrassed sweetheart. You look so cute" seonghwa said in a coo.

Seonghwas hand slipped further between your legs, spreading you open for Yunho to see. You couldn't help but sneak a glance at the man. He was almost drooling, as he licked his lips.

"She tastes amazing," seonghwa says dipping a finger into your still sensitive heat. You felt yourself twitch.

"Normally I would spend hours eating her sweet little cunt, but that wasn't what you wanted to see" seonghwa spoke with false regret. Honestly, Yunho looked right now like there was nothing else in the world he would rather witness but everyone knew he had already made his choice.

Your boyfriend finally decided to push 2 fingers into you all at once. You whined out at the sudden intrusion.

"I have to get her ready first, I hope you don't mind" seonghwa spoke with a chuckle. Because no, with a view like that how could Yunho mind watching your boyfriend's two long fingers push in and out of you over and over again each time bringing a little more wetness out of you.

At this point you were gone, the pleasant stretched of the familiar fingers moving inside of you was like a mantra pulling small noises from you like a song. Seonghwa was brushing the inside of your walls oh so perfect if was unfair.

"She is always so wet, pulsing around my finger with so little work. What a little slut." Your eyes shot open with a moan at his words. His pace quickened. With your still heightened sensitivity, you already felt your stomach tighten.

"Oh. Do you like that? Like it when I call you my slut?"

"Yes, sir"

"Do you like being a little whore for me?"

"Yes, sir"

"Do you want me to fuck you in front of our friend, just so he can see how much of a slut you are?" At that, you locked eyes with Yunho across the room.

"Yes please sir, please show him how much of a slut I am for you" Yunho lurched forward for the first time, his dick straining so hard against his boxers it must be painful.

Seonghwa leaned down to give you a quick kiss on the forehead,

"Good girl"

Finally, seonghwa focused all his energy on bringing on your next orgasm. Pressing deliciously against that special spot inside you while his thumb returned to your pulsing clit. You were already so far gone that it only took a few more direct strokes for you to come tumbling down once again.

This one lasted much longer than the first. And once again seonghwa prolonged it as long as possible by not stopping his hand once throughout the whole time. The pleasure came on waves, washing over you with so much intensity it was all you could do to keep moaning so loud the neighbors could hear you.

Finally, when he pulled his fingers out you took a moment to catch your breath. But it wasn't long before it was stolen again by seonghwa sticking each finger in his mouth one at a time a sucking them clean, never once breaking eye contact with the boy in the chair.

"Hmm, sweet" was all he said, before standing from the bed once again and undoing his belt. Seonghwa pushed his hair back before undoing his jeans and pulling them down his legs. At last, he stood in nothing but his black boxers. If you weren't struggling so hard to keep your eyes open after your climax you would have ogled but Yunho's hungry eyes were wide and fixed on the impressive size of the tent in your boyfriend boxers. Seonghwa spared him a glace before chuckling.

Your boyfriend turned completely to Yunho and pulled down the boxers as well. You knew what was there, so you understand the feeling Yunho was having to lick his lips like that. Yunho's arms once again lurched forward.

"Remember, no touching" was all seonghwa said before turning back to you. He says down on the bed beside you once again

"Come sit on my lap baby,"

You almost groaned. You felt like you could barely move and you would much rather he take you just as you are, but you know better than to fight him.

Seonghwa positioned you both facing Yunho, so he could have the perfect view of you both.

You tried to keep your self as steady as possible as lined himself up under you. Your muscles protested as you held yourself up. Finally, seonghwa took hold of your hips and pushed you down onto him all at once. The two of you both let out a satisfied groan. Your pussy felt used and abused but at that moment all you could think about was how nice it felt to be full. Your head fell back onto your boyfriend's shoulder almost immediately.

"Awe, do I make you feel that good, baby? You like it when I fill you up that much?"

"Yes, sir, I love being full. Love it when you fill me up." Your words were slurred together but loud. Seonghwa, using his grip on your hips. Helped you lift yourself only to be pulled back down again.

"Holy fuck" Yunho spoke in a quiet tone, watching where your boyfriend's dick was now disappearing inside of you.

"Don't use that kind of language" seonghwa spat out while staring to set a fast and deliberate pace, his focus instead on fucking you to tears.

"I'm sorry sir, it's just-" he seemed to be at a loss for words. " I can see you in her tummy"

At that seonghwa chuckled again. He took your hand and lead it to the spot on your stomach you could feel him inside you.

"I know, my baby is such a slut she isn't satisfied until I fill her up this much."

All of these words were filtering in and out of your ears but all you could focus on was the feeling of seonghwas dick moving inside of you. You were so sensitive after two orgasms not so long ago that your body felt utterly spent but every single time seonghwa trusted up into you felt like you could cry at how good it felt. It hurt, yes it hurt, seonghwa was big, that's why he spent so much time working you up, but even with that, you could still feel him stretching out your wall in the most delicious way. Every time he pushed all the way into you could almost cry at the sensation, not to mention how he rubbed against every spot inside of you in the perfect way. You were a mess of whines and cries and tears.

"She's crying" Yunho spoke in a shaking voice.

Seonghwa brushed your hair away from your face, looking at the tears streaming on your face. Your boyfriend placed feather-light kisses against your cheeks where the tears streamed down. A stark contrast to the brutal pace he was drilling his hips into your cunt.

You were clenching madly against him and he couldn't help but chuckles, though it was now somewhat airy as he was nearing his own climax.

"You gonna come, baby?" He asked.

"Mmhmm" you whined, head still rolled back as he fucked into your relentlessly. You were so close, every time he pushed back into you you cried out wanting him to make you come so fucking bad.

Seonghwa took told of your chin with one hand and forced your head forward making you lock eyes with Yunho. He looks almost as fucked out as you probably did. Forehead sweating, chest heaving, dick twitching. The sight made you clenched down hard.

"Who knew my sweet little baby, want people to watch her get fucked like a whore." you clenching tears streaming down faster than ever. The hand not holding your chin found your clit and once again began rubbing slow but rough circles onto the bud. You were so full and so close, and knowing that Yunho was seeing you like this, looking him in the eye while seonghwa fucked you almost made you come.

"What do you think Yunho? Should I let my little slut come?" He asked pinching your bud and delivering a particularly hard thrust. You gagged on the drool spilling from your mouth.

" yes, please sir, please make her cum!: Yunho almost shouted, looking crazed.

"You heard him slut. Cum."

And that was all it took. You were shaking and writhing on top of your boyfriend, head and eyes rolled back and your eyes saw stars. Waves don't even being to describe the way pleasure was moving through your body.

"Sir, it feels so good" was all you could say between the cries, and yes you were crying for real now. Short of losing consciousness, you were gone to the world. Lost in the feeling.

It took you several minutes to realize that seonghwa was still fucking you. But once you did you jerked painfully.

"No, no please" fell past your dry lips. As you moved to sit up. But seonghwas had kept you in place.

"You're not going anywhere baby, I still haven't cum yet and I am going to right in your little pussy."

It hurt, and you were crying, but all you wanted to do was be a good girl for seonghwa so you stayed put, letting him use you. You looked up at Yunho, your eyes glossy, mouth hanging open, probably covered in bruises as you always were when seonghwa fucks you.

Yunho moaned out, straining against the fabric keeping him tied to the chair.

At that moment seonghwa finally came. You could hear his groan through his chest and feel the cum spilling into you. Nice and full.

With a few more thrust seonghwa finally stopped. Allowing you to rest a moment before pulling you off him. You collapsed into your blankets. Feeling moments away from sleep, but you kept your eyes open. Seonghwa took a moment before standing pulling up his own boxers before moving over to where Yunho sat panting. He looked down at the boy and laughed.

"You came untouched?"

"Yes sir"

[jangofctts]

I was thinking of Void and I did a thing.I hope I haven’t over stepped my boundaries.....

He’s staring at his hands when you walk out of the small field theatre.

Disgust roils in your gut. Another day or war. Another life wasted. You peel off your gloves and hear them smack wryly against the bin as they hit the edge and slide down the side.

That’s when you see him turn the water on again. The steam hits the air forming a protective cloud around him. The air is crisp and a harsh breeze sneaks under a side of the makeshift field hospital.

Void applies soap and scrubs. You can see the almost methodical way he normal cleaned begin to become frantic. He’s digging harder. His shirt blunted nails scratch against the palm of his hand, the paler skin blooming into harsh red between the scalding water and manic way he works at it.

“Void?” You say his name. He doesn’t twitch. You take a step closer say it louder. “Void?”

The clone and you had become friends of a sort. You slipped steaming caf under each other’s noses when bad days happened, slide ration packs in front of holoscreens to remind each other to eat. You didn’t speak much but this life didn’t allow for much idle chatter. You knew Void didn’t sleep enough, you knew he liked his caf black with just a splash of cream, you knew he valued the lives of his brothers and those in his care more than his own. That’s about all you needed to know.

You watch as voids hands stop their furious work and grip the edge of the sink basin.

“Void?”

“They’re not clean.” He says looking down into the still running water. “They won’t come clean.”

There’s nothing normal about his voice. The strain, the way it cracks as if he’s hanging on a razors edge.

You all have been these last few days. It was a brutal campaign run by a young Jedi Knight who was getting more men killed than not.

He says your name quietly.

“I’m here.”

He reaches for the soap again and this time you take it before he can reach it, insinuating yourself into his space. His head tracks slowly to yours and he blinks slowly. Dark circles crowd under his eyes. You think to ask the last time he’s slept but it has to be just as long ago as your last time. Maybe longer.

“They’re not clean yet.” He says again slowly, the words gritted out through his teeth, “I need them clean.”

“Let me help you?” He doesn’t fight you as you set the soap down and cup his hands in your own. They’re red front and back from his attempts to clean them free of any dirt or debris. You frown but turn away before he can see.

The first thing you do is turn the hot water down. It’s like warm after only a minute and your sure there’s a trooper who will thank you for not letting all the hot water be drained from the small travel tanks. You feel it against your wrist like checking milk from a babies bottle. Body temperature and perfevt you step between him and the sink. It’s a snug fit and you can feel him pressed along your back. Tension radiates through his tired frame. He says nothing as you take his hands in yours and move his arms around your body. slowly you run them under the water before grabbing the soap. Void is taller than you, heavily muscled and broad but he’s incredibly gentle when he sets his chin on your shoulder.

You set his hands on the edge of the sink and lather your own before picking up one of his. You use the slippery soap to slide your fingers over and around his hand. Your fingers slip through his and your thumbs press and massage along his thumb.

A ragged breath travels past your ear and goosebumps travel down your spine.

You rinse the soap from both your hands and than relather before picking up his other and repeating the process. The tension bleeds from his body. You can feel the tired weight pressing into you but you don’t care, just brace one leg against the sink.

“Why are you doing this?” The question is whispered like he’s almost afraid to ask. You rinse his hand and shut the water off. A stack of towels sit on the shelf above you and Void reaches up and grabs one when you can’t reach.

You turn and find yourself locked between his arms. You still don’t answer. You don’t even look at him tik you’ve taken the towel and dried the first hand.

“Why?” He asks again.

This time you can’t stop yourself from looking up into his tired imploring eyes. He’s seen a lifetime of pain and yet still hasn’t known any of the good. Maybe that was what was so hard about losing troopers these days. It wasn’t just a life list. It was a life wasted on someone else’s war.

“We look out for each other, right?” You offer a watery smile, feeling your own emotions from the day weighing you down. “All clean.” You try to sound perky but suddenly his gaze is too much and you feel like if you don’t get away you are going to wither under it.

You toss the towel in the bin and duck under one of his arms. Your focus is on the door and than on getting to your rack and getting a few hours of sleep before the next wave of wounded roll in. Your almost free when Voids hand on your arm stops you, spins you slowly to him.

Void doesn’t break eye contact with you as he takes your hands in his own. He brings each in turn to his mouth and presses dry chapped lips to one than the other.

“Thank you.”

im SCREAMING THIS HURT BUT HEALED MY HEART AT THE SAME TIME IM. poor baby void, no matter how much he scrubs he can still feel his brother’s blood on them oOf

[kyber-crystal]

Unspoken Words

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Words: 4.2k (I POPPED OFF LOLLLLL)

Summary: In which the night before being deployed on a covert black-ops mission overseas with Natasha, you write Steve a secret love letter that you never intended to give him. But, it still ends up falling into his hands.

Warnings: fluff, soft angst, cute steve hehe

A/N: once again, shamelessly stole this idea from the kdrama im watching adsfasdf

To Steve.

You always told me it was time I found someone who cared for me just as much as I cared about others. For the longest time, I had myself believing I was set for life since I already had the team. That I didn’t need to find a man to sweep me off my feet and take his last name, to have as my own, as every time I seemed to let my feelings wander astray, it’d end in tragedy.

After waiting for too long to say this, I guess I'm gonna come clean now, so brace yourself. I felt as if this would be easier for me if I was saying it on paper rather than in person, so here you go.

I realized I'm in love with you. You never leave my mind. You're always there, mentally, if not physically. It's hard for you to comprehend all at once, I know, it's hard for me to wrap my mind around, too. It still feels unreal that I'm actually admitting all this to you. I could've sworn I'd only acted this way in my dreams, but hey, reality can sometimes come up behind you and slap you in the face, you know?

In the middle of the storm, a war that rages on in my mind, you’re my safe haven. You’re the gentle center who keeps me steady and prevents me from teetering over the edge and losing my grip on reality. You keep me centered, and I don’t know what I’d do without you by my side. Steven Grant Rogers, I’m in love with you. I know, it doesn’t seem real. As crazy as it sounds, I’m hopelessly in love with you.

Steve, you are my one stability in a chaos-ridden world and I thank you endlessly for that. I so desperately needed something to hold onto, something to convince me I was still alive and breathing and somewhat sane. It's hard for me, it's hard that only today I've accepted the feelings I'd been harboring inside for years. But I've decided to admit defeat and admit I've officially fallen in love with you. Because what I'm beginning to feel now is far too strong for me to ignore; it's impossible to keep up this act when you're all I can seem to think about.

It's all strange, honestly. The feeling of butterflies flying around my stomach and tickling my insides makes me feel as if I'm up in the sky, my head in the clouds, but it also overwhelms me and makes me scared at the same time. The fact that I'm in so deeply in love scares me because I know when I'm really in love with someone, it's hard to escape once I've completed the act of falling for them.

Weird, right? Who knew the great Y/N was so capable of being a romantic sap?

It feels dangerous yet completely safe at the same time, as if someone's given me peace and my heart is dancing around in my chest because it's so happy, at the same time there is a Captain America-shaped hole there in the center that I was never aware was there in the beginning. My chest aches at the thought of having to leave you or you not reciprocating my feelings, but I know I might just suffer that fate, since the world as I know it, isn't kind whatsoever. I should know this better than anyone, after fighting countless battles.

It scares me more than excites me, how you can go from being really close friends to then being completely infatuated and in love with them and wondering how you were ever able to go on with your daily life without them, because I sure as hell can't imagine that now. In the beginning, I told myself it's not right, I still had so much of my life ahead of me, so much time to plan out what I'm going to end up like in the future but my brain is screaming no, no, it is right, it's meant to be.

The team tries convincing me to do something about it but I'm terrified. Terrified that I'll have to bring down the thick and heavy walls I spent so much time building up in the fears of being hurt and damaged and my heart shattered to a million jagged pieces.

I know most people would consider me to be foolish and naïve for spilling my feelings through a sappy love letter, but it's true when I say I love you so much more than I could ever love myself. You're my best friend, and as cheesy as it sounds, you are my everything. My anchor.

I fell for you all on my own. Not because I was pressured to or anything, but because I made the decision myself. I don't just give my heart to you by default as if there's no one else available for me to open up to. It's because I choose to. Every day that I wake up, every day we're fighting for our lives or fighting each other or going about a normal day or whatever, I'll keep choosing you over and over again, and I hope someday you'll do the same.

I love you more than you know. And if you don't feel the same way, then it's perfectly fine. I understand, and I'll wait for you as long as it takes, no matter what.

Whatever it takes.

Y/N

You let out a long sigh and set down your pen, folding the paper up into fourths and tucking it under your lamp before pushing yourself away from your desk and standing up, stretching your arms in the air. What even was the point of doing that, anyways? It’s not like Steve’s just going to come in here and read the letter. 

The downside of living with the Avengers was that word got around very quickly, especially about your love life. There was no hiding anything from anyone, as they’d find out one way or another. If Tony didn’t find out first, it was Natasha, Sam, or Bucky who did.

“Hey, Nat,” you spoke without turning your head to look at who was behind you, knowing your red-headed best friend was leaning against the doorframe, observing you carefully. 

“Y/N,” Natasha nodded and made her way inside, sitting at the edge of your bed and you took a seat next to her, as she rested her head on your shoulder. “You alright? I can tell something’s on your mind.”

You shook your head. “I’m fine.”

“Something tells me you’re not.”

“Did Wanda read my mind for you?” you raised an eyebrow in suspicion.

“No, she didn’t,” she replied honestly, “she’s busy baking cookies with Vis and Peter right now. You think you wanna tell me what’s up? As your best friend, I’m obligated to know what’s going on.”

You closed your eyes and let out a long sigh. "You know what it is."

"You mean who?"

"Why am I letting this happen to myself?"

"You can't control who you fall for,," she explained. "Your heart sometimes just has a mind of its' own."

“He’s Captain America,” you deadpanned.

“And you’re the badass Y/N!”

“I shouldn’t even have feelings in the first place. And I shouldn't have written that love letter that I won't even give him anyways, or...you know."

"You wrote him a letter?"

You got up and tugged the letter from underneath your lamp and gave it to her, watching as her eyes scanned over the paper with your tidy, typewriter-like handwriting filling the sheet from top to bottom.

"So..."

Natasha handed the paper back to you. "Why can't you just tell him?"

"Because he doesn’t like me back."

"You should tell him at some point. Keeping this all to yourself isn't healthy."

"You sound like Tony."

She chuckled lightly. "What?It's the truth."

"Fine," you threw your hands up in the air in defeat, "I’ll consider telling him after we get back from Kyiv. I’m only considering it. And if I do confess...will you take me out for shawarma? Bucky took me last time and I barely got to eat anything because he stole most of my food."

"Alright, I promise," she laughed. "You got a deal."

...

SHIELD was always taking advantage of your almost unparalleled skill in the art of covert espionage and hand to hand combat and sending you off. Normally, it would last no longer than a few days or weeks at a time, so to hear that you'd be gone for four whole months made Steve feel sick to his stomach. He was dreading having to watch you leave, because it would mean spending the next third of a year by himself, without being able to see your face or your smile or simply have you around for some good company.

You pulled him aside after dinner one night to tell him the news.

"Nat and I were called in by Fury early this morning. We're being deployed to eastern Europe to stop a nuclear missile launch."

"How long will you be gone?" He tried to keep his voice as steady as possible, but it was a dead giveaway that he didn't want you to go at all.

"Well...if things go right, 3-4 months."

"And if doesn't?"

"Six, maybe seven."

Steve felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach at your answer. "Why is it gonna take so long?"

"I don't know," you sighed, "just trying getting in and out isn't a very short process. We have to maintain low profile for a while before we infiltrate the base. If we're discovered too early on...then...well, we're basically screwed."

"Oh."

"Hey, I'm going to be fine, if that's what you're so worried about," you took his hand in yours and squeezed it tightly, "I know you're thinking I can't handle this, but I can. Nat and I are gonna look out for each other. I promise I'll be okay."

"When are you leaving?"

"First thing in the morning. We gotta go at four."

You didn't have to add on another sentence to tell him it meant you were unable to say goodbye to anyone. He nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat and trying to ignore that weird feeling in his chest as you kept holding his hand, not letting go even when you had the chance to.

Later that night, you were able to get five hours of sleep before Natasha came in to wake you up and you got ready. When she noticed how your eyes had lost the light to them and your shoulders slumped as you boarded the jet, she knew something was up.

Guilt clawed at your insides. You should’ve told him you loved him before you left, you idiot. What if you don’t make it back alive? Hm?

A set of footsteps echoing across the hangar bay suddenly made you turn around. You turned around to see Steve, jogging towards you and calling out your name. Knowing it was only a matter of minutes before you finished boarding and took off for a mission thousands of miles away, with very little ways of communication as you were supposed to be as discreet as possible when undercover, he didn't want you to leave without saying goodbye.

A mix of surprise and relief is on your face when you see him. You shake your head and give him a reassuring look, that everything was going to be okay and you'd be just fine.

"What are you doing here? You should be sleeping," your brows furrowed together in confusion as you unloaded your weapons, tying up your combat boots. "I thought you—"

Steve quickly comes forward and crushes you into a tight embrace that tells you he's going to miss you much more than he's letting on. You were quick to return the gesture, wrapping your arms around his torso and squeezing him back, resting your head against his broad chest.

"Stay safe out there," he murmured into your hair, pressing a light, fleeting kiss to the top of your hair.

You don't question his sudden act of sentiment, and just gave him a small smile in response. "Don't worry. I will."

With that, you turned around, stepping back up the ramp with Natasha. The gates to the hangar bay slid open, and within seconds you had taken off.

Steve stands there for a while even after the Quinjet is out of his sight, and it's only when Bucky pulls him back inside that he realizes he's been standing there for over an hour without moving at all.

The first few weeks pass by in a blur. He hardly eats, he hardly sleeps, he hardly even gets up for his morning runs or trains at all. After the first two months came and went, Tony grew rather concerned seeing him deteriorate and decided to ask him what was going on.

"Tony, I'm fine."

"Like hell you are. What's up with you? You haven't eaten a solid meal in over two months. You've lost some weight around your face, you almost look like a skeleton. When you haven't gone on your morning runs in forever, I should have a reason to be worried about you, Cap."

"It's been five weeks and she hasn't checked in with us yet," he stated plainly, gulping down his third cup of coffee of the day. "She should've called a week ago."

"God, I never thought you'd be the one to get so worked up over a girl," the billionaire let out a long sigh, pouring himself a cup of coffee as well at the kitchen counter before taking a seat at the island next to him, "but here we are now."

"What if she got injured?"

"Her and Nat are looking out for each other. I'm sure she's fine. She's going to be okay, so why don't you eat something solid for once? Tell me what you wanna order, I'll get it for you."

Thanks, Tony. I'll take Thai." (You and Steve often ate Thai takeout together.)

"Anytime."

Way over in Ukraine, you and Natasha were sitting on the bed in your hotel room watching the news on TV in silence because neither one of you felt like sleeping yet, until she decided to speak up.

"Why haven't you called Rogers yet?"

"I...don't know."

"He's gotta be missing you like hell, you know."

"I know. And I miss him too...a bit too much. That's why I can't call him. Because every time I hear his voice or see something that reminds me of him, it makes me fall even more in love with him and I can't afford having that. I don't want to risk getting hurt. Besides...I already summoned every last ounce of willpower to write that letter."

"You really should give him a call. It's not doing your heart any good to purposely drain yourself of him."

"Fine."

Steve had somehow allowed himself to get roped into a Mario Kart showdown with Bucky and Sam, when his phone suddenly lit up with a familiar number he could recognize anywhere. Your contact picture filled up the screen: you grinning wildly as his arms wrapped around you from behind, Pietro photobombing in the back as he made heart signs with his hands.

He picked up the phone and answered it after only one ring.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Steve," you spoke over the phone, "how's it going?"

"Hey," he couldn't help but break into a smile, "are you alright?"

"Yeah. We got the data files downloaded onto the flash drive and then destroyed it yesterday. So for now, we're just waiting around and maybe doing some tours of Kyiv while we have time."

"What time is it over there?"

"Half past midnight. You?"

"2:30."

"How are you holding up?"

Bucky and Sam looked over at that exact moment, wiggling their eyebrows up and down as they gestured for Steve to say something. "I'm doing fine. Got pulled into a Mario Kart deathmatch with the two idiots."

"Tell Bucky and Sam I send my regards and that I'm bringing back those baguettes I promised for when we stop over in Paris," you told him.

"I will. It's good to hear your voice, Y/N."

You couldn't help but feel your heart flutter at those words. "It's good to hear your voice, too. Look, I'm sorry...but it's getting late, and my data on my phone is low, Fury didn't give me an unlimited plan so I gotta go now. See you soon."

"Okay. Try to get some good sleep, alright? I don't want you getting hurt because you didn't get a good night's rest the night before. See you."

"COME ON, MAN!" Sam yelled as soon as you hung up. "You didn't even have the decency to say 'I love you?'"

"I love her, but not like that."

"Sure you don't. I saw the way your face lit up when you picked up the phone."

"Two months," the super-soldier let out a sigh of disappointment, setting down the controller to watch him and Bucky tear each other apart on Rainbow Road, "two more months."

He picked up his phone again and clicked on his camera roll, mindlessly beginning to scroll through until one picture caught his eye. It was during summer break when you were vacationing in the Bahamas for two weeks along with several SHIELD agents, and Coulson had taken the team picture. Fury had somehow been convinced to come along as well.

As his eyes scanned all the faces in the picture, he came across himself and noticed that he wasn't smiling at the camera, but at you instead, and you were doing the same. Both of you, gazing into each others' eyes as if the two of you were the only people left on Earth.

He felt a pang in his chest as he realized, at that moment, that he was in love with you and hadn't gotten the chance to tell you so before you left. And now, it could be too late.

The letter ends up reaching Steve much faster than you'd anticipated it to. The next day, he went to drop off the sweatshirt you left in his room last time you’d had a movie night together and comes across a single sheet of paper lying out on your desk.

All the color quickly drains from his face when he realizes this wasn't actually meant for him to read. He knows what he'd just done was wrong, but the fact that he was so oblivious to how you felt about him makes him feel even worse.

...

The mission had gone extremely well. You and Natasha were in and out of that base probably faster than you could summon Tony after yelling out that one of his suits had been tampered with.

Natasha thought it'd be fun to surprise him by coming back a month early and could tell instantly that you loved the idea, judging by the way your eyes lit up when you boarded the Quinjet.

You decided to call him again on the flight back as she sat at the front piloting the jet.

"Steve?"

"Hey. What's up?"

"Uh...I'm afraid there's been a change of plans."

"What plans?" His voice quickly grew worried as he tried masking his disappointment at the fact that you weren't announcing your return.

"I'm afraid I can't tell you that, I'm sorry, but...I just wanted to call you to update you on what's happening. Signal's not very good up here, Nat and I are flying out again so I'll call you when we touch down."

"Okay. Talk to you in a bit."

After making a quick pit stop at a bakery in Paris, you were up in the skies again, zipping back towards the Avengers HQs where the rest of the team was waiting.

"You know, I think Rogers is in love with you," Natasha gave you a knowing look as you touched down.

"What makes you think that?"

"When you guys were going after Bucky...I think that's when it all happened."

"But that was several years ago?"

"Exactly."

You unbuckled your seatbelts and stood up, picking up your duffel bags as the opening gates dropped down and you stepped off the ramp to an awaiting Bucky, Sam, Clint and Peter.

"Y/N!" Peter rushed forward, squeezing you in a tight hug. "Hi! You're home early!"

"Yeah, I am," you grinned ruffling his hair as you pulled apart. "You make sure Bucky and Sam didn't misbehave?"

Sam shot you a glare as Peter replied. "Well, they were alright. Happy dropped me off here yesterday and I monitored their Mario Kart matches to make sure nobody killed someone, so yeah. Clint was good too."

You went over to Bucky as Natasha went to talk to Sam and Clint about mission details."

"Y/L/N."

"Barnes."

"How was the flight?" His hard expression softened slight as he gave you a quick hug. "I heard everything went pretty well."

"Yeah, it was okay. A bit jet-lagged, but other than that I'm fine. And speaking of flight! I got you guys something."

You motioned for Nat to bring the box of pastries from the jet, and as soon as she did everyone's eyes lit up with excitement.

"Dude, you're the best," Sam exclaimed as he bit into an eclair. "I love Parisian pastries."

"We don't wanna be here too long, now do we?" Clint spoke up. "Y/N, I think you have a special someone to surprise inside."

"Oh?" you raised an eyebrow at the archer before following him and the others inside the compound.

Steve was busy reading a news article on his phone at the kitchen island, sitting there in a plain grey T-shirt and dark jeans when he looked up and met your gaze.

"Hey, soldier," you greeted with a smirk, "miss me?"

His face broke into a grin as he set his phone down. "You're back early."

"Fury was a bit more lenient this time," you shrugged, taking your hands out of your jacket pockets, "so he let us go. Since we got the job done pretty fast."

He chuckled lightly, pulling you close in response and wrapping his strong arms around you. "I'm glad you're back."

"So I take it you really missed me, huh."

"You could put it that way."

"Like hell he missed you. You should've seen him while you were gone, Christ," Sam groaned. "He wouldn't eat anything solid for an entire week."

"Oh!" Wanda piped up, "I believe he has something to tell you? Right, Steve?"

"No, I don't?"

"Uh, we'll leave now, then," Clint awkwardly cleared his throat. "Let's give these two a minute."

With that, they calmly filed out of the kitchen, leaving the two of you to yourselves.

"You look tired," Steve raised an eyebrow at you as he noticed the dark circles under your eyes.

"You look worse," you joked, earning a small laugh from him as you circled your arms around his torso. "I'm just a bit jet-lagged. The ten hour time difference wasn't very kind to me."

"Well, I'm glad you're back," he breathed out, "I missed you."

"Ah, there it is," you mumbled into his chest. "But yeah, I missed you too. And here I was starting to think Captain America didn't have the heart to care for someone so much."

"Only for you, Y/N," he chuckled, pressing a light kiss to your forehead, "only for you."

“Wait a second,” you pulled away and saw a familiar piece of paper sticking out of his jacket pocket, “what’s that?”

Your eyes widened as you pulled it out and realized it was the letter you’d written him several months back. “Oh shit...”

“Was I not supposed to read this?’

“NO!”

“It was addressed to me, though...?”

“I never meant for you to read it!” you hissed, “Now give it back!”

“Ah ah ah! I don’t think so.”

You let out an annoyed groan, going up on your tiptoes to try and snatch the paper out of his hand. “Screw you, Rogers. Why do you have to be so damn tall?”

You jumped up and down in an attempt to get the letter back for several minutes until you finally gave up, arms growing sore. When he towered half a foot above you, it was hopeless.

Your hands landed against his chest as you let them fall and you just stood there for a few seconds, or minutes, maybe, in utter silence, with his warm breath falling against your neck and you hated yourself for wanting this moment to last longer. 

The air was suddenly buzzing with anticipation, like the world was holding its breath to see what was to come next. Steve’s gaze lingered on your lips before he tilted his head downwards, placing a hand on the small of your back and pulling you in for a kiss. 

His lips met your own so softly, so gently that you swore that you were dreaming for a split second, and you let out a sigh as your arms slid around his waist and tightened their grip around him. 

“In case I haven’t made it obvious enough, either,” he hummed, “I’m in love with you too.”

You felt heat rise up your cheeks. “You weren’t supposed to read that!”

“Too bad,” he smirked, resting his chin on your head, “I read it already, three times. You bet I’ll be keeping this for myself.”

“I hate you so much.”

“That’s not what the letter says.”

“I hate you.”

“You love me.”

“No I don’t.”

“Yes, you do.”

“Fine! I love you.”

Steve laughed lightly. “I love you too, Y/N.”

[vintagedolan]

lucid locations (gbd)

while one full year of wakeheart and an impending candle launch are definitely moments to celebrate, you might just have another plan for the ceo’s attention

word count: 7.5k

warnings/tags: ceo!grayson, lots of smut, 🥵  is all im sayin

feel free to send in requests! and check out my masterlist if you wanna :)

Between construction at the house, the warm California summer and an inviting pool right in the backyard, you couldn’t remember the last time you’d had on more than a bikini top, running shorts and one of Grayson’s shirts. He was the same - mostly running around shirtless in his shorter shorts, maybe throwing on a tank top if he was building. When you’d packed up to take haven from the construction dust and noise, headed for a rental house in Malibu, you’d had to convince him he needed to pack more than his new speedos. 

Needless to say, getting cleaned up and ready for a black tie event was quite the shift from your usual day to day. The makeup you were swiping on felt almost foreign, especially the lipstick. But the hand that made it’s way onto your bare back was all too familiar. You relaxed into it, smiling at Grayson in the mirror. 

“God damn.”

“Stop it,” you rolled your eyes, closing them when he leaned over to press a kiss to your shoulder.

“You look so good,” he hummed. “But can you look good 6 inches to the right? I gotta clean up my beard.” Your eyes went wide, lip jutting out as you moved over, opening up the spot in front of the sink. 

“Don’t shave it.” You blurted, making him laugh.

“Don’t worry baby, I’m just cleaning up the edges. The scruff stays.”

“Good, it makes you look very... ceo-ey,” you grinned, reaching over to run a finger over his jaw, feeling the coarse hair there that you loved so much.

“What, I don’t look ceo-ey with a baby face? Not even in this fit?” He gestured down to himself in his speedo, striking a bit of a pose.

“King of business. Steve Jobs is quaking. The bulge really sells the whole look,” you teased, scrunching up your nose. He belly laughed at that, a hand moving to his chest as if to brace himself until he moved forward to you, spinning you around a bit so he could press his nose to yours.

“Can’t blame me when you insist on getting ready in a bra and tiny shorts,” he mumbled with a grin, fingers ghosting up your bare sides as if to reiterate his point. 

“I’m enjoying the ethan-has-his-own-bathroom perks of this house, sue me.” His lips brushed against yours just barely as you spoke, so light that it almost tickled. 

“I’m enjoying it too.” He pressed a kiss to your lips gently, a small one. 

“Don’t smear my lipstick bub,” you cautioned nicely, wrapping your arms around his neck. He sighed at that, eye meeting yours and just looking. It was the type of gaze that made your cheeks as warm as your core.

“Bring more so you can fix it later. You’re very kissable right now.”

“And you’re very sappy,” you mused. He always got sentimental on big occasions, excited to make new memories. “And kissable.” You gave in, giving him a quick one, ignoring his attempt to deepen it. “We gotta get ready or we’re gonna be late to your own event.”

“The CEOs have to be a little late, I think it’s customary,” he tried, but you just shook your head, covering his lips with your hand.

“Shave, I gotta do my hair anyways. And I’m probably gonna need your help with my dress.” 

That was enough motivation for him to get on with getting ready. You’d been sneaky, not shown him the dress you’d picked out for the evening. It was your first black tie event that you’d gone to ever, and definitely the first one with him at your side. You wanted to look good next to him, look good in the pictures you knew were going to be taken that he was no doubt going to post and probably print out to add to his photo collection too. It had butterflies fluttering in your stomach as you did your hair the way you liked, keeping it simple and making sure it framed your face.

It took you a little while, and you smiled when Gray wandered back into the bathroom in his suit, bowtie hanging loosely around his neck just as you finished. You let out a low dramatic whistle, breaking it off into a laugh when his cheeks turned your favorite shade of pink. 

“Help.” He walked over to you, lifting his chin up so you could better access his bowtie. You went to tie it immediately - you’d taught yourself last week when he decided to wear one. It made you smile as you recalled the two of you sitting on his bed, him shirtless with just the bowtie around his neck while you practiced, the spitting image of a male stripper from a bachelorette party. You’d been laughing so hard that it took you a ridiculous amount of times to get it. Luckily now you got it on your first try, proud of yourself as you straightened it out.

“Is it dress time?” His eyes flashed a bit when you nodded in response, heading for the closet where your garment bag was waiting. You pulled it out, having to hold your arm up high so that it didn’t pool on the floor as you moved it to the bed. 

Grayson rubbed his hands together in anticipation before he balled them into fists, the full embodiment of a kid on christmas, but in a 6 foot body. 

“You look like you’re gonna combust baby, chill,” you teased, shaking your head as you slipped your shorts off. You felt his eyes on your thong, the smallest one you owned. You still weren’t sure it would work - only one way to find out.

You reached behind yourself and unclipped your bra, letting it fall to the floor before you leaned down to scoop everything up and toss it the laundry. 

“I like where this is going.” His voice had dropped a bit, eyes taking you in from head to toe.

“Oh yeah? Well, get excited,” you teased, reaching into the Target bag on the floor to pull out a few nipple pasties. “These bad boys are coming along for the ride.” You wiggled them around dramatically in the air before you turned to the mirror to put them in place. Grayson watched, entirely unfazed.

“Okay, go stand in the bathroom for a minute,” you instructed, pointing to the door. He balked, eyes going wide.

“What? Why!?”

“Cause, you seeing me wiggle into this thing will ruin the allure. And I like surprises.”

“But I wanna see,” he pouted, giving you the best puppy dog eyes he could muster. You weren’t sure how a 6ft man in a tuxedo could look so soft, but he pulled it off.

“You will see, in like two seconds,” you teased, pushing gently on his chest as he walked backwards towards the bathroom door. He was still pouting when you closed it.

Taking a deep breath you went back over to the garment bag, pulling the zipper of it down to reveal the fabric you hadn’t seen in a while. Just laying there it looked almost innocent... almost. But when you put it on? You’d never felt like such a bad bitch - even in the fittings you’d felt powerful, sexy. 

“Do you have it on yet?” Grayson’s voice was impatient, a bit distorted. He was biting his fingernails, you could tell. 

“No, just gimme a minute,” you laughed, coaxing the dress off the hanger and carefully stepping into it. The fabric was silky but dense, with enough structure to give your body shape and enough flow for it to be flattering. It was a deep purple that reflected in a way that made it almost blue when it caught the light. The cleavage was there, but subtle, and that subtly was made up for with an open back. The material pooled right over the curve of your ass, leaving almost your entire back exposed, held up by the tiny straps over your shoulders.

But once you had it on, you remembered your favorite part, the main reason you’d bought it besides the color. 

The slit.

It was high. So high that it was borderline inappropriate, but still just classy enough. It tapered up at your hip, leaving your entire left leg open to the air. And as you’d feared, the lace line of your thong was visible. 

“Let me see,” Grayson whined from behind the door. You knew if you didn’t give in he was going to come out anyways.

“Alright alright, come in!” You called to him. He wasted no time in getting the door open as you stayed where you were in front of the mirror, trying to figure out what to do about the underwear situation.

“Holy. Fuck.” 

That caught your attention, and you turned to see his face. He was smiling, but his mouth was wide open, jaw slack as he looked you up and down. You expected him to get it together after a few moments, but he just stood there, awestruck, eyes never leaving you. 

And then, to top it off, he finally took in a raspy breath, coughing a little. You opened your mouth to say something, but he held up a finger and moved towards the bed, rummaging around by the bedside table. 

It was a sight you always wanted to remember - him, puffing on his bright red inhaler while standing there in a tux. 

“Wow, that good huh?” You couldn’t help the ego boost that it gave you to see him so undone just from looking at you.

“You got room for this in your bag? Might need it later with you lookin’ like that.” 

You rolled your eyes a bit, but you held your hand out anyways, taking it from him and sitting it down next to your bag. The fabric tape you’d bought peeked out at you and you pulled it out with a sigh. It wasn’t the most comfortable looking stuff, but you didn’t have much of an option.

You moved back in front of the mirror, reaching up to your thong and hooking a finger through it and pulling it down.

“What’re you doing?” His mouth sounded dry as he spoke. 

“It was showing. Can’t wear any with a slit this high.”

“You’re actually trying to kill me.” He watched you step out of them with hooded eyes, which turned to confusion when he watched you open the packaging on the tape. “What’s that?”

“Fabric tape. Keeps everything where it needs to be, ya know?” 

“You can’t just wear the dress?”

“Do you want the entire Wakeheart team to see my vagina tonight?” You laughed, quirking an eyebrow at him in the mirror. He scrunched his nose at that idea, staying quiet while you got everything arranged and taped.

“Okay, tell me if you can see anything.” You spun around slowly, trying out a few different angles with your leg that you might do during a photo. 

“You’re good. I fuckin’ love that dress, it looks perfect on you.”

“Thank you baby. You look pretty fuckin’ hot yourself.” You fixed the collar of his shirt with a smile. He brought his wrist up, checking his watch - his green rolex, of course. 

“Ah shit, we gotta go or we really are gonna be late.”

You just nodded, moving to the box with your new black heels and pulling them out. Grayson held his hand out for them and you handed them over, blushing when as you watched him crouch down and reach for your foot.  

“I can do that you know.”

“I know.” He grinned up at you before he looked back down and guided your foot in, his big fingers giving him a few problems when he got to the tiny clasps on the straps. “These are stupidly tiny.”

“I can get em,” you offered again, but he just waved you off, sticking out his tongue as he focused and finally got the buckle to thread through. The left shoe went easier, even though you had to hold onto his shoulder while you balanced on your right. 

He stood up when his work was done, eyes flashing wide when he looked at you.

“You’re so tall now. That’ll be nice for my back.” The question must have been clear on your face, because he answered it. “Don’t have to bend down to kiss you.” 

“Shut up and put your shoes on,” you laughed, kissing him quickly before moving to check yourself in the mirror one last time - even you had to admit, you looked damn good. Grayson got his Louis shoes on quickly, tying them and coming beside you, phone in hand. He pulled you against him so you both fit in the mirror, posing like you were on a red carpet just for his phone. 

“Turn around.” His voice was gruff, and when you did as you were told you knew why. You couldn’t help it - he took the first picture of just you looking up at him, your back on display. But by the time he snapped the next one, you snaked your hand down, white nails bright against his black pants as you cupped him over the fabric, his bulge already growing. 

“Don’t.” 

He snapped the picture anyways. 

“You sure?” You didn’t have to lean too far to get close to his ear now that you had on heels, and he rolled his neck as he sucked in a breath. His eyes flashed to yours, desperate and angry and wanting all at once. 

His hand fell over yours, pulling you off of him by your wrist. “Later.”

“Promise?” It rolled off your tongue as you looked up at him through your lashes. 

“Jesus,” he groaned, the effort he was using to stay put together obvious. He pressed a kiss to your knuckles before he let go. “Yeah, fuckin’ promise.” 

He saved the last picture under my eyes only and put his phone away, taking your hand as you grabbed your bag and followed him out of the room. 

------

“Does my hair still look okay?” You turned to Grayson, a bit nervous that you’d undone all your hard work.

With gentle fingers he fixed a few strays that had come loose. You should have known that they were going to play Cudi the whole way to the venue - it was a Dolan celebration after all. The boys always got hype, and you couldn’t help but join in, dancing along and singing at the top of your lungs. For your mood? Wonderful. But for your look? Maybe not so much.

“You look perfect.”

“Promise?” You quirked an eyebrow, knowing exactly what you were doing and loving every minute of it.

He sat back down in his seat further, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath through his nose. Ethan noticed from the front seat, watching for a moment and then deciding he should probably mind his own business. 

Grayson’s eyes were serious when he turned to you, leaning over so no one else heard your conversation.

“We have photos in like 5 minutes. I’m begging you. Behave.” 

You pondered it for a minute - how many times had he fucked you up, got you turned on in public when there was nothing you could do about it? But there was a sincerity in his eyes and his voice that you couldn’t ignore. 

Did you like being told what to do? No. But for Grayson? You’d do just about anything.

“Fine,” you conceded with a grin, leaning over to give him a quick kiss. “But only cause I want you to be able to post the pictures without your dick showing.”

“How considerate of you,” he rolled his eyes, but it was light hearted. He laced his fingers with yours, thumb running over your skin as his excitement mounted every minute closer you got the venue. You watched out the window as the fancy buildings started to emerge, signaling that you were getting close. Malibu had a more relaxed yet somehow more exclusive vibe than LA, and it had your heart racing.

“You’re gonna be fine, it’s just cameras.” He had somehow sensed your nerves, putting his own aside as he tried to comfort you instead.

“You’ve done this before, of course it’s not scary for you.”

“True. But I’m gonna be with you the whole time, which means you have nothing to worry about,” he countered, almost asking you to challenge him on it. You just nodded, picking up your purse from the floorboard.

“When we get out can you stand in front of me? I don’t wanna accidentally flash anybody.”

“Of course baby. I thought thats what the tape was for though,” he mused.

“Better safe than sorry.”

“We’re here, you guys ready?” Ethan turned from his spot in the passenger seat, excitement written all over his face. He reached back, hand extended to his brother, his partner in all this. You watch them do the handshake they could do in their sleep, a silent communication of excitement and support. 

And then, it was time for the show to really begin. It was a bit of a blur after that, mixtures of adrenaline and nerves. Grayson opened your door, standing tall and broad as you stood up, got your footing and adjusted your dress to make sure all was covered. And then he offered you his arm, prideful grin on his face as he showed you off.

It was a blur after that. You vaguely remembered pausing in front of the backdrop, a simple white with the Wakeheart logo scattered across it. You took a few serious pictures, giving your best sultry look, but mostly you just smiled, so proud of your man for all he worked so hard for.

At one point he stepped back from you, gesturing towards you proudly. It took you a minute to register that the photographers were calling out for you to pose, just you by yourself. You did your best, posing and looking where you were called. 

You only relaxed when Grayson reattached to your side, leading you down the rest of the carpet that stretched up to the venue. You posed for a few with both him and E just for fun, the three of you goofing off and just being yourselves before you made it to the end, the doors open to reveal the inside of the venue. 

“They want some of just E and I, do you wanna wait out here or do you wanna go sit down?” 

“I’ll go sit, save my feet. Have fun!” You kissed him quickly, vaguely aware that a few cameras flashed. You reached up and wiped a tiny bit of lipstick off his lip before letting him go, watching him head back over to his brother. 

You weren’t alone for long - you’d barely made it into the room before Sterling saw you, lighting up and running over to you. She was in a floor length green number, the sparkles on it catching the light from outside.

“Ster! You look amazing!”

“Says you! Holy shit! You rode in with the boys right?” You nodded, starting to look around. “Do you think they’re gonna like everything?”

“Oh they’re gonna love it, for sure.” 

The room was dim, colorful lights all around giving just enough brightness to make it functional without ruining the vibe. It only took you a second to realize that each light was specific; purple, blue and a light orange, just like the Enterlight collection. There were little Wakeheart touches everywhere, from the little mini fragrances on the tables to the logo printed on the name cards at the tables.

“Your all’s table is at the front I think,” Sterling offered, pointing up by the stage. “I gotta go find Daniel, I’ll find you later!” She disappeared to find her boyfriend and you headed in the general direction of the front, weaving through some of the tables.

“Y/N!” 

You turned, lighting up as you realized the call had come from Deon who was beelining for you, the biggest smile on his face.

“De!” was all you could get out before he had you wrapped up in a hug, almost lifting you off the ground. It had been too long since you’d seen him, too long since he’d come by to hang out after the first few times that you’d hit it off. 

“You look hot as hell girl, damn!” He praised, and you blushed so deep that you were sure he could see it, even in those lights. 

“Did Kai get to come?” 

“Yeah, he’s getting us drinks, wanna meet him?”

“Of course! Gotta see what all the hype is about,” you nudged his shoulder, taking his hand as he lead you over to the bar.

Kai was taller than you’d pictured him when Deon had described his boyfriend, but he was beautiful enough for all De’s constant gushing about him to make sense. The introductions went well, and you almost forgot where you were until someone cleared their throat.

“You guys gonna get drinks or what?” The bartender that spoke was a burly guy, too much muscle, and probably too old to be happy as a bartender if his tone and glare said anything about him.

“Oh right, sorry! Just uh, two mules for us. Y/N?” Deon looked at you expectantly.

“A mojito for me please,” you kept up the niceties, trying to stay pleasant. Maybe he was just having a bad night. 

“I hate making those.”

Niceties? Gone. 

“Well then I guess it’s a good thing you’re getting paid.”

“Suppose so,” he grumbled, passing over the two mules to Deon and Kai. They took the gratefully, giving you a little wave before they headed off, so caught up in each other that they didn’t even register the conversation. You stood up a bit taller now that you were by yourself, practically daring him to try something.

“You here by yourself?” 

“No.”

“Don’t see anybody with you.”

“So observant.” You let the annoyance seep into your tone, but you were right in assuming that he was the type of guy who didn’t give a fuck if the women around him were uncomfortable. 

“Where’s your man then? Not a smart one if he’s gonna let you walk around here wearing that by yourself.” The way his eyes raked up and down your form didn’t sit well with you. 

“He’s a bit... occupied. And considering I’m the reason there’s a bar here in the first place tonight, I suggest you watch your mouth and make the drinks before the CEO changes his mind.” 

“What she said.” 

You’d know that voice and the hand that slid dangerously low across your back anywhere. Apparently, the event planners must have shown the workers who the whole party was for, because the man behind the bar changed his tune immediately.

“Mr. Dolan,” he greeted, so serious that is almost made you laugh. “Can I get you anything sir?”

“You can get my girl what she asked for, and you can watch your mouth. That’ll be all.” 

You weren’t sure how a guy the size of the bartender could look sheepish, but he managed it as he handed over your mojito. 

“Thanks! Have a great night!” You hoped your insincerity was blatant enough as you took your drink and waved back to him, letting Grayson’s hand guide you as you turned around. 

“Hi baby, how were the rest of your pictures?” You asked as you walked to the table, chasing your straw with your tongue for a moment before taking a sip. 

Grayson just shook his head at you. “You’re perfect, you know that?”

You shrugged, enjoying the compliment and lifting up to kiss his cheek in thanks. He pulled your chair out for you before you sat down, settling beside you. As you expected, he was a hot commodity, a stream of people coming up to the table to give their congratulations. It only got more constant when Ethan found his seat on the other side of Grayson, everyone making sure they got their moment with the boys. 

Grayson was fully engaged, and you did your best to listen, focus on what he was saying, accepting the little nods of acknowledgement everyone was giving you.

But you were much more focused on the way Grayson’s hand was reached back so he could keep a hand on your thigh, his diamond ring cold against your skin as he squeezed every once in a while -  a little reminder that he appreciated you being there with him. 

It was innocent enough - but the mixture of him in that suit, the professional tenor of his tone, the lights, the fact that his hand was big enough to cover all the way across your thigh. You couldn’t help it - you shifted your legs just barely, only then realizing just how wet you were. 

It was wishful thinking that he didn’t notice. And of course, right at that moment there was a lull in the congratulations. He turned back to you, a playful glint in his eyes. 

“Come with me, I wanna show you something.” 

You smoothed out your dress when you stood up, hoping your skin didn’t look as flushed as it felt. 

“Hey. We gotta talk at 8. Don’t leave me hanging.” Ethan’s tone was all too knowing, and if you hadn’t already been blushing you would have when he fist bumped his brother. 

You took Grayson’s hand, his Rolex cool against your wrist as he lead you out of the event room, down a small hallway and to an elevator. He hit the button labeled R, and you both waited as patiently as you could. As soon as the doors were closed he was on you, both hands on your face, thumbs over your jaw as he pulled you to him. 

You melted into him, molding to his form, whimpering when his right hand traced down your back, crossed over and tucked under the fabric of your dress, fingers ghosting over your bare hip. 

“Fuck, forgot you ditched the panties,” he groaned, turning in annoyance as the doors dinged and opened. 

There were very few things that could have pulled your attention away from Grayson at that moment - the view was one of them.

“Oh wow,” you breathed, looking out at the rooftop that the elevator had brought you to. It was a garden of sorts, lots of greenery and flowers all around. But the real stunner was the view over the ocean, a perfect Malibu beach stretching out, visible even in the dim twilight that had settled over the sky while you’d been inside. 

“Figured you’d like it up here. And it’s private.”

You turned around, quirking an eyebrow at him.

“Private.” You swallowed around the word as he came closer to you, pulling you in for another kiss. This time you got your piece, hands coming up to his neck, searching out any skin you could find over his collar. He one upped you, both hands moving down your back, under your dress and over your ass, squeezing and massaging as he reached further, getting dangerously close to where you needed him most. 

“We can’t, Gray we can’t.” Your words didn’t match your actions, whole body jolting when his hands moved out of your dress, right hand resting on your hip from the front now, the slit just making it that much easier for him to gain access. 

“Why not?” He mused, kissing along your neck. 

“Cause we can’t go back down there looking fucked out. We’ll be home in a few hours.” There wasn’t even a flicker of conviction in your voice, and he just shook his head, unwilling to hear it.

“Can’t. Got me fucked up down there, calling me CEO and shit, hyping me up to that piece of shit. Don’t think I’m gonna make it home without at least a taste.” His hand traced left, ducking under your dress. You gasped as the tape peeled off your skin, leaving you vulnerable. 

“Fuck Gray,” you whimpered as his hand cupped over you, your knees buckling underneath you at the feeling of his fingers sliding through your slick. 

He groaned at what he found, other hand coming up to the back of your head, chasing your lips with his as you gasped when he started to move. 

“Just hold onto me baby, I got you.” His voice was deep in your ear as you clung to him, his arm wedged between both of your torsos as he worked you over. But just when you were really getting there, legs shaking, he pulled away, leaving you exposed and cold in the evening air.

You were about to complain, but the look he gave you told you he was far from done.  

“You’re on watch.” His voice and the wink he threw you had your already weak knees about ready to give out as he sunk down, moving your dress away like a curtain.

He pressed a sweet kiss to your hip before he ducked down, holding onto your thighs as he dove in with a wide tongue, finally getting what he’d been waiting for. And even if he hadn’t told you to you would have been bracing yourself on his shoulders.

“I like these heels,” he murmured when he pulled back for air. “Gets me a better angle.”

“Fuck, Grayson.” Something about you using his full name had him diving back in with a vengeance, tongue rough and active, only pausing to suck on you in the most delicious way. 

Your eyes rolled back, hands finding his hair, not caring if you messed it up as you held on, twitching a bit as he hummed at the feeling of your nails on his scalp. You forced yourself to focus, watching the door to make sure no one wandered up to the roof, found the star of the whole affair buried in your pussy.

But something else caught your eye - a little clock, number shining blue.

7:58pm

“Gray, G-Grayson, stop, stop it’s almost 8, you have to - fuck - you have to go,” you warned, but you couldn’t bring yourself to pull him away from you. 

“Gotta keep my promise first,” he said, only speeding up, knowing you were close from your breathy tone and your quivering thighs. Sure enough, all he had to do was add his finger and you were completely undone, calling out his name and bracing on his shoulder so you didn’t collapse. 

He stood back up with a triumphant grin, ego booming as you just stared at him, working through the aftershocks. He checked his watch and clenched his teeth, giving you a nervous look.

“Hell yeah, one minute to spare. Take the elevator.” He pressed a wet kiss to your cheek and jogged off, leaving you panting and alone as he disappeared down the staircase. 

“Jesus christ,” you huffed, trying to walk forward on your wobbly legs as quickly as you could, doing your best to pull yourself together. It was all deep breaths and attempts to ignore the wetness on your thighs in the elevator ride as you tried to re-stick the fabric tape with no luck.

The only reason you didn’t go to the bathroom to get yourself re-situated was because you didn’t want to miss the boys speech. So you quickly made your way to your seat, sipping on your drink to try and cool yourself down while you watched Ethan attempt to fix Grayson’s hair at the side of the stage. Oops.

They walked up eventually, waving and acting as humble as ever while the room applauded them. Grayson looked entirely unfazed, as if he hadn’t just been nose deep in your pussy 60 seconds ago. You tried to manifest the same energy, pretend like you weren’t still practically dripping sitting there in your dress. 

But when he looked right at you and swiped his thumb across his bottom lip, wiping away what you knew was you? You clenched around nothing, biting down on your straw. 

It was going to be a long rest of the night. 

They thanked everyone for coming, and for all the support of the brand over the last year. They shouted out everyone on the team, giving them the praises they deserved. Grayson slipped in a little moment for you, a “thank you to my amazing girlfriend who always smells every sample I bring home and isn’t afraid to give her honest opinion, and who keeps me sane and supports me through every step of everything I do” that had your cheeks burning as all the eyes in the room sought you out. 

When they were done he wasted no time in putting his hand right back on your thigh as soon as he sat down, smirking a bit when he wrapped around and found just a trace of wetness.

“Easy. My tape won’t re-stick,” you warned, not wanting him to get too frisky and accidentally move your dress. 

“Guess you’ll just have to stay close to me then huh,” he mused, leaning in for a kiss that you gave him happily. 

The rest of the night went smoothly, from the meal to the social hour afterwards. You stayed on Grayson’s arm, right where he wanted you as he made his rounds, made sure he spoke to the executives that he and Ethan had invited, got the advice he’d wanted to ask about. 

Before you knew it midnight had come and gone.

“You ready to get out of here baby?” 

“Hell yeah.”

Perks of dating a 20 year old CEO? He has his own driver when he wants it. But to your surprise, the man who drove the three of you there handed him keys instead of leading you to a car. 

“Had em drop off the porsche in case we wanted to ditch early and Ethan didn’t.” He answered the question he knew you had, leading you to the familiar blue car that was waiting on the side of the street. 

“Always the planner,” you teased, squeezing his arm before he opened your door for you and helped you in. 

“I do run a company you know,” he mused, leaning down to kiss you one more time before he picked up the rest of your dress and put it in the car so it didn’t get closed into the door.

You watched his every move as he went around the front of the car and climbed into the drivers seat, starting it up and revving it up once just for good measure. 

As soon as he pulled out of the spot you were leaning down to unclasp your heels, groaning in relief when your feet were freed.

“Better?” 

“So much better,” you sighed, relaxing back in your seat as he plugged the rental address into the GPS and started down the road. 

“Those shoes have their perks for sure. Sorry they hurt you though.” He palmed the wheel as he turned and you bit your lip, remembering exactly what perks he was talking about.

Now it was his turn.

You reached over, hand resting on his thigh, nails digging in just barely. He twitched, foot pressing a bit on the gas, lurching the car forward.

“Easy baby,” you cautioned, turning in your seat so you were facing him, fingers tracing up further, gauging his reaction.

“What’re you doing,” he asked as if he didn’t know, eyes trained forward on the road. 

“Keeping promises,” you mused. “Got me fucked up back there.” 

He sucked in a breath through his teeth as you repeated his words from earlier, unbuckling his belt and pushing it out of the way as you spoke. 

“Yeah? How’d I get you so fucked up baby. Tell me.” 

“You know exactly what you did,” you reminded him, popping the button open with your nail, coaxing the zipper down to reveal his Calvin Klein briefs that were already getting stretched as he got harder and harder.

“Wanna hear you say it,” he grunted, knuckles white on the steering wheel. 

“Could barely walk to the elevator when you ran off, my legs were all wobbly. Made me feel so good,” you explained, stroking his ego and his bulge simultaneously.

“Fuck yeah they were, and you still made it down for my speech.” You reached up under his waistband, pulling his underwear down enough for you to get your hand around him. His hip stuttered as you started to work him over like only you could. 

“Wouldn’t miss it,” you hummed, using your thumb to trace the vein on the side of his shaft, up over the tip with just enough pressure to really fuck him up. 

“Shit baby. Just like that.”

You did as he said, twisting your wrist over him as he grew in your hand. When your knuckles grazed over his balls the porsche jolted again, making you grin.

“Careful. Can’t fuck you if we don’t make it home.”

“If you weren’t so fucking horny we wouldn’t have a problem,” he huffed, looking at his phone to check the ETA. 2 more minutes. 

“Can’t help it. You in a suit just gets to me,” you admitted, batting your eyelashes a bit just for fun. You didn’t count on him dropping his right hand from the wheel and reaching over to you, shoving your dress to the side and immediately cupping over your already sensitive folds. You jolted in your seat, squeezing his dick in your hand. 

Two could play that game. With a wicked grin, you shifted, closing your legs so he couldn’t reach you and leaning forward, dropping your head.

Before you could get very far his hand was in your hair, pulling your head back up so you had to look at him.

“Wait.” 

You swallowed hard and nodded at his command, sinking back into your seat as he pulled the porsche into the driveway, typing in the gate code, fingers drumming on the wheel while he waited for them to open. He pushed the gear shift forward into park as soon as he stopped, looking over to you.

“Wait.” He said again, opening his door and readjusting himself back into his pants before he came around to your side of the car. He opened your door sweetly, offering you a hand.

As soon as you were on your feet he was crouching, shoulder hitting your hips before he grabbed and lifted, practically throwing you over his shoulder.

You squealed, trying to find purchase against his back, hands balling up his suit jacket in an attempt to hold on. He was unfazed, even taking one hand off you to unlock the door. 

By the time he made it to your alls room on the top floor you’d gone limp, knowing there was no point in fighting him. You missed his face while you couldn’t see it, smiling when he leaned forward at the edge of the bed, let you fall on top of the comforter, bouncing slightly. 

“Dress on or off?” You asked, quirking an eyebrow.

He pondered it for a minute, eyes darkening as he imagined both scenarios, played them out in his head.

“Off,” he decided. You nodded, standing up and pulling one of the straps off over your shoulder. His fingers found the other before you could, pulling it off so that the top of your dress fell down, revealing your breasts. You looked down with a laugh, almost forgetting about the nipple pasties you’d put on. 

He cupped them anyways, thumbs running over the little petal shaped cut outs, the muffled sensation of his fingers on your nipples making your back arch, asking for more. He was gentle as he peeled them away, not wanting to hurt you, ducking down to kiss each one when they were free. 

You ran your fingers through his hair as he licked over them, kissing his way across. Your dress continued to fall down, gathering at your hips until his hands found it and pushed it the rest of the way off.

“Much better,” he grinned, guiding you back until you fell on your back again.

It was quite the show, watching him strip out of his suit in front of you. He started with the jacket, tossing it away without a care before he started working at his bowtie. 

You couldn’t resist - you sat up, untucked his shirt from his pants, hastily fumbling over the buttons, pausing to run your hands over his abs as soon as you saw them. He groaned at that, especially when you leaned forward to kiss his warm skin. He got the tie off somehow, working from the top button and meeting you halfway before pulling it off. Just him shirtless in those fucking pants was enough to have you fully worked up again, and you laid back down, watching him pull his belt off through the loops, undo his button and pull everything down at once. 

Your mouth watered, ready for him, but to your surprise he crawled on top of you, resting just enough weight down to pin you to the bed. He was beaming as he looked down at you for a few moments, just taking you in.

You reached up to cup his face, pulling him down to kiss you, surprised but warm nonetheless at his sudden change of mood.

“I love you,” he murmured against your lips.

“I love you too.” There was no question. “Proud of you.” 

“Couldn’t have done it without you.” He pulled back, readjusting so he could line up. You opened your legs a bit wider to make room for him, anticipation mounting as he rubbed himself over your folds for a few strokes. His lips found your forehead as he finally pushed in, stretching you out as he slowly let you adjust to all he had to give.

“So fuckin tight for me, every time baby, fuck,” he huffed out, sinking down further onto you. If you had room to, your back would have arched as you drug your nails over his arms, overwhelmed at how deep he already was. 

He dropped to his forearms, rocking above you so hard that your whole body moved across the bed with each thrust. You clung to him, arms moving around him, scratching at his lower back.

You couldn’t even form words, the only things falling from your lips being his name and a constant stream of whimpers, punctuating each drive he made into your heat. Every time he pulled out his tip ran across that spot deep inside you that had you squirming, body unsure of whether you wanted to run away or get closer, overwhelmed by the force of the sensation. 

He knew you were close when you started to clench around him, walls fluttering in a way that pushed him towards the edge like nothing else ever could. 

When your orgasm came, it was almost too much. You cried out, clinging to Grayson as he continued to pound into you without mercy, only spurred on when you bit onto his shoulder, riding it out before your body went limp for a moment, completely fucked out.

“Almost there baby, fuck,” he groaned, sitting up and grabbing your hips with both hands, holding you up as he chased his high, lost in you entirely. “Want your mouth.” 

Somehow in your blissed out state you managed to sit up enough for him to get close enough to you and your waiting tongue. It only took a few quick strokes before he was cumming, hips stuttering as he unloaded into your mouth. You found the energy to suck him dry, taking all he had to give before he guided you off, much too sensitive for you to keep going. 

He laid down beside you, rolling to his right to find your hips and pull you on top of him. Neither of you moved a muscle for a few minutes, just trying to get your breathing under control and your heart rate back down to an acceptable rate. When you finally got enough energy back you made your way up to his face, catching him with soft and lazy kisses over his lipstick stained lips, drinking each other in. 

You knew that the pictures would run tomorrow, and your faces would be everywhere. You could see all the headlines about Grayson in your mind: CEO, youtuber, famous, heartthrob; every girl that saw him in that suit would be just as enthralled as you had been. But none of it mattered. Because they didn’t get your Grayson, the Grayson who picked you up and carried you to the shower twenty minutes post fuck, helped you take your makeup off and made you laugh until your stomach hurt when he washed his hair and spiked it up in a soapy mohawk like a six year old. That was your Grayson; your CEO, your heartthrob, for the rest of your fucking life. You relished in the thought as you curled up to him that night, loving the weight of his arms around you as you drifted off. 

[naturallytom]

Little Things (Tom Holland x reader)

a/n: this is for @rosyparkers​ writing challenge!! italics are flashbacks, bold is the prompt!! again i hope u enjoy this im sorry it’s been like 10 years since i’ve posted something lmao also big thank u to @sunshinehollandd​ for reading this over!!

warnings: a lil angst, scared of opening up/being vulnerable, other than that it’s fluffy fluff 

prompt: “Do you want to know the hardest thing about having a soulmate? It’s not the separation in the beginning, not the endless nights lying awake, hoping and praying that someone was made for you. It’s…it’s the love. It’s too strong, and you can’t fight it. I’ve tried. Believe me, I’ve tried…but I’m always going to love you. And I need you to know that.”

“You ready, my love?” Tom held his hand out to you as the dj announced it was time for your first dance, his brown eyes radiating a type of warmth that brought you comfort when you needed it most. You placed your hand in his and allowed him to guide the two of you to the dance floor, his hands going to your waist while you wrapped your arms around his neck. 

“Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?” He asked, his voice so soft only you could hear it. 

“Only a million times.” You smiled, hiding your face in his neck. It amazed you that even after years of dating he still had that effect on you. 

“I’ll tell you a million more times, then.” He smiled, pressing a soft kiss to your head. “You look absolutely beautiful.”

“Not so bad yourself.” You replied, a small smile on your lips as your mind wandered to when you first met Tom and how far you came with him. 

“What are you thinking about?” Tom chuckled. 

“How do you know I’m thinking about something?” 

“You have that look on your face. The one you make when you’re deep in thought.” He told you, pressing another kiss to your head. “Everything okay?” 

“Mhmm. Just thinking about how far we’ve come.” You told him honestly. 

“We have come a long way, huh?” He smiled. “Remember when we first met?” 

“How could I forget?” You chuckled, your mind replaying the day you met him as if it was yesterday. 

The first snowfall of the season and you were in your room studying for an exam. Not ideal at all but you had this big exam coming up that you just couldn’t fail so you had to study as much as you could-

“y/n?” Your roommate poked her head into your room, a hopeful smile on her face. “How much studying do you have to do?”

“Ermm a lot, why?” You asked, flipping through your study guide so far. 

“Was thinking we could go out in the snow, at least for a little bit?” She grinned. 

“I don’t know, I still have a lot of studying to do-” 

“You’ve been studying all day! Come on, you need a break.” She argued, making you sigh. 

“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to take a quick break. But only for a little bit!” You gave in, making your roommate cheer as the two of you got ready to brace the cold winter air. 

“It’s so pretty.” Your roommate said, her voice almost a whisper as the two of you took in the scene while you walked to the nearby park. 

Light, fluffy snow fell from the sky, landing softly on the ground around you as well as on your faces. For a moment when you looked up at the night sky, seeing glimpses of the stars and the snow falling, all your worries and obligations washed away, bringing on a sense of peace. 

The two of you arrived at the park, seeing other people there, all enjoying the snow. People were making snow angels and snow men, while others were having a snowball fight. 

“Hey check this out!” You roommate called, laying down in the snow and making a snow angel, sitting up when she was done. “How’s it look?”

“Not bad.” You laughed, bending down and molding some snow into a ball. “But unfortunately this snowball is too good not to be thrown and you’re the target so..”

Your roommate stood up and fortunately for her but unfortunately for you, she moved out of your way right as you let go of the snowball, allowing it to crash into the man right behind her. 

“Oh shit!” You gasped as he turned around, a look of confusion and slight amusement on his face while your roommate was hysterically laughing off to the side. “I’m so sorry!”

“That meant to be for her?” He chuckled, making you nod. 

“I’m so sorry, I tried to throw it at her but she moved at the last minute and-”

“Hey don’t worry about it.” He assured you. “I’m Tom.” 

“y/n.” You replied. “Really is there any way I could make it up to you?”

“Really it’s fine.” He laughed. “But I am getting cold so I was gonna go across the street and get a tea, if you’d like to join.”

“Sure, but I’m paying for yours.” You insisted, making Tom smile. 

“Pretty sure I’m supposed to pay for yours.” He tried, but you shook your head.

“No, no. It’s my treat. I’m the one who hit you with a snowball, after all.” 

“You looked so cute that night. The snow was falling and sticking to your eyelashes and the moonlight was hitting you just right. God, you looked like an angel. Still look like an angel.” He sighed. 

“Yeah an angel who didn’t let you in for a long ass time.” You chuckled. “‘M not sure what you did but you made me open up to the idea of being vulnerable and open to someone else. I hadn’t really done that before you.”

It had been almost eight months since the snowball incident and to your surprise, Tom was your (very caring) boyfriend. It sort of came as a shock to you when he asked you to be his girlfriend. You definitely had strong feelings for him, no doubt about it. But you weren’t good about expressing them. Tom liked to talk about his and open up his heart to you while you liked to keep your heart guarded and show you cared with smaller actions. 

Tom was patient, though. He was patient and caring and understanding and it made your heart swell within your chest to the point that you weren’t even sure if you could keep it to yourself. He didn’t rush you into opening up or being vulnerable, but he noticed the small smile that formed on your lips whenever you showed him a song or meme that reminded you of him. He noticed the way your eyes sparkled with pride when you successfully made his favorite meal to surprise him after a long day. 

You noticed the little things Tom did too. Like how he always took off his jacket and wrapped it around your shoulders if you were out on a date and you got cold. Or how he always offered to walk or drive you home before you moved in and if he couldn’t or if you drove yourself, he would tell you to drive safe and to text him when you got home. 

“All those little things you did just made me fall even more in love with you.” He laughed softly. “Maybe I rubbed off on you a little bit.” 

“Maybe.” You sighed, your head resting gently on his shoulder. “You told me you loved me all the time, it probably rubbed off on me little by little until I said it.” 

A year and a half after a snowball resulted in you meeting the man of your dreams, you and Tom were still going strong, but you were scared. Tom had told you he loved you so many times yet you couldn’t find yourself to say those three little words back. 

“I love you.” He would say. “You’re my soulmate.” 

You loved him, you know you did. But despite Tom telling you all the time how much he loves you and that you were his soulmate, you were still scared. What if you said it and he rejected you? What if the two of you broke up and you were open and vulnerable for no reason? 

It happened one night when you were laying in bed, your head resting on Tom’s chest, playing with hands, lost in thought. 

“What’s on your pretty little mind, hm?” He murmured, pressing his lips to your forehead softly. 

“Nothing.” Lie. You were actually thinking about how much you loved him and how lucky you were to have him in your life, but the thought of opening up like that terrified you. You fell in love the way you fall asleep, slowly and then all at once. 

“Do you want to know the hardest thing about having a soulmate? It’s not the separation in the beginning, not the endless nights lying awake, hoping and praying that someone was made for you. It’s…it’s the love. It’s too strong, and you can’t fight it. I’ve tried. Believe me, I’ve tried…but I’m always going to love you. And I need you to know that.” He said softly, as if he could read your mind. 

“How do you know you’ll always love me, though?” You asked. “That’s a long time.”

“Darling I fall more in love with you every day.” He chuckled. 

“It’s just,” you started, not thinking about the words that left your mouth next. “I do love you but I’m scared. I don’t like being vulnerable like that, you know this.” 

Tom paused before he let out a soft laugh, a sense of ‘I knew it’ mixed with confusion taking over your body. 

“What?” You asked, starting to get mildly defensive. 

“Baby you just said you loved me.” He smiled, making your eyes widen. 

“I did?”

“Mhmm. Also said you were scared and didn’t like being vulnerable.” He mumbled against your head, his thumb rubbing over your knuckles softly. “Being vulnerable is what makes us human, lovey. ‘S okay to open yourself up, especially to me.” 

“What if you didn’t feel the same way?” You glanced up at him, a small smile on his lips. “What if we broke up?”

“Neither of those are even possibilities.” He assured you. “I love you too much.” 

You paused before responding. “I love you too.”

As the song came to an end, you found yourself overwhelmed with love and felt tears involuntarily fill your eyes. Tom frowned lightly when he saw the tears, pausing to hold your face in his hands gently, concern in his eyes.

“What’s wrong, hm? Regret marrying me already?” He teased, making you laugh softly. 

“No. ‘M just really happy. I really love you. Don’t think I’ll ever stop.” You murmured, the concern and frown on Tom’s face being replaced with pure love and adoration. 

“Good, darling, because you’re stuck with me forever now.” He replied.

“I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

_______________________________________________________________________

please rb/leave feedback!!

tagging some mutuals: @daydreamparker​ @angelic-holland​ @moonlit-void-to-the-far-unknown​

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Eccentricity [Chapter 14: Love Keeps The Monsters From Our Door] [Series Finale]

A/N: Thank you for your encouragement, enthusiasm, laughter, rants, screeches of anguish, and unapologetic thirsting for “sexy undead Italian man” Joseph Francis Mazzello. I hope you love this conclusion more than Baby Swan loves pineapple pizza. 💜

Series Summary: Potentially a better love story than Twilight?

Chapter Title Is A Lyric From: “Til I Die” by Parsonsfield. (The #1 song I associate with this fic!)

Chapter Warnings: Language.

Word Count: 7.7k.

Other Chapters (And All My Writing) Available: HERE

Taglist: @queen-turtle-boiii @bramblesforbreakfast @maggieroseevans @culturefiendtrashqueen @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark @escabell @im-an-adult-ish @queenlover05 @someforeigntragedy @imtheinvisiblequeen @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhyee @deacyblues @tensecondvacation @brianssixpence @some-major-ishues @haileymorelikestupid @youngpastafanmug @simonedk @rhapsodyrecs​

Mercy

We have to stay in the Vladivostok palace until her transformation is complete, and I hate it.

The floors are cold and sterile and every clang of noise ricochets off them like a bullet. The earth outside is stripped bare and hibernal. There is no green to interrupt the bleakness of the sky, the cruel absence of color: no spruces or hemlocks or bigleaf maples, no evergreen forests, no verdant fields, only a grey that bleeds from the sky in sheets of hail and driving rain. This land is a stranger. So many of the faces, too, are strangers, although they try. Honora sits with me—her large dark eyes, like mirrors of mine, polished and wet with aching pity—and braids my hair. Morana invites me to bake homemade bread with her. Austin tries to make me smile. Cato visits me as much as he can, because he feels responsible; or maybe he would do it anyway, maybe lessening suffering is as instinctual to him as bloodshed is to so many of our kind. And when Cato is with me, I do feel a little better, like my story might belong to somebody else, like it’s a name I can’t quite remember, like it’s a transitory moment of déjà vu I can catch glimpses of but never touch. And yet, still, I send him away.  

I don’t want to be with Cato. It’s painful for him to be around me, I can see that. It’s painful for Rami, and for Ben, and for Joe, and for Lucy and Scarlett. It’s even painful for the Irish Wolfhounds that Cato found locked up for safekeeping in Larkin’s study; they skulk around the palace vigilantly but leave great swaths of uninterrupted space around me like open water. So I conjure up a mask of brave, hopeful acceptance and wear it everywhere I go.

Joe says very little, never leaves the girl he calls Baby Swan’s side, dabs her scorching skin with washcloths soaked in ice water and murmurs in sympathy when she screams through the unconsciousness, from beneath the ocean of fire we all know so well. He nods off sometimes, snatching minutes of sleep like fireflies in a jar, before jolting awake to make sure her heart is still beating. When Ben isn’t checking on them, he’s with Cato, helping to draw up plans for the future, reminiscing about the past with slick eyes and clinking midnight glasses of whiskey. Scarlett sprawls across the desk in what was once Larkin’s study and spends hours on the phone with Archer as she gazes up at the ceiling, telling him how to care for the farm animals and the garden, reassuring him that we’ll be home soon, whispering things to him that I try not to hear; and I know she wouldn’t want me to anyway. Lucy weeps delicate, ceaseless tears as she perches on the staircase landing and Rami entombs her in his arms, never having to ask what she needs from him. And I wander meaninglessly through the echoing, unfamiliar hallways like a moon without a planet.

I know what they all think about me, perhaps even Rami, for I keep it buried as deep as all skeletons should be: that I’m irrevocably kind, effortlessly forgiving. That I’m as incapable of bitterness as I am of aging. But they’re wrong. It’s a choice, and it always has been, ever since a late-November dusk in 1864 when madness eclipsed mercy. Every day I choose whether to surrender to the beckoning, malignant hatred that lurks in the back of my bedroom closet, in the dusty and ill-lit loft of the barn roped with cobwebs, in the twilight tree line of the western hemlocks crawling with shadows that whisper through fanged teeth. Every day I decide whether to become a monster. And it has never been harder to remember why I don’t.

My future is unimaginable. The nights are endless. I feel black, razored seeds of what I am horrified must be bitterness burrowing beneath my skin and taking root there. I am consumed by infected, fruitless questions that I can’t silence: Why Gwilym? Why Arthur? Why Eliza and Charlotte? Why is it always fire?

The first words that Gwilym ever spoke to me, as I unraveled from unconsciousness under a grove of sycamore trees with smoke still clinging to my unscarred skin, rattle around in my skull like windchimes beneath thunderous skies. His voice was colored with an accent I couldn’t place, and yet it sounded like home: You’re in a dark place right now. But you don’t have to stay there.

That might have been true once. That might have been true in the ruinous autumn of 1864. But now I can’t find my way out.

Seventy-three hours after our arrival in this barren corner of the world, Charlie Swan’s daughter  wakes up as a vampire. Her heart is perfectly still, her skin faultless, her senses sharp, her mind as impenetrable as ever; at least, that’s what Lucy says when she finds me. And Lucy tugs at my hand, wearing her first smile in days, insisting that I have to come meet the newest member of our coven, to welcome her. I don’t know how to tell Lucy that I’m afraid I don’t have it in me to love this girl, that I don’t have it in me to love anyone but ghosts. And yet—compliantly, yieldingly, expecting nothing but disappointment in the monster I have become—I follow her.

The door is already open to the Swan girl’s room; chattering, beaming vampires flood in and out like the tides. I step inside. And I see the way that Joe looks at her, the way that Ben does; and all those seeds that I had feared might be bitterness blossom into nothing but open air.

It’s Not A Fucking Wedding (A.K.A. 13.5 Months Later)

The ocean is a universe. Its arms are not ever-expanding, spiraling galaxies of suns and planets and nebulae and black holes, this is true; its belly is not a vacuum of inhospitable oblivion, its bones are not invisible strings of gravity, its language is not a silence older than starlight, older than eternity. But the ocean is a universe nonetheless, its borders tucked neatly around the seven continents, slumbering there until the next hurricane or tsunami or ice age comes conquering; and inevitably equilibrium is restored—like defibrillator paddles to a heart, like naloxone to an addict’s blood—and our two worlds can coexist side by side once again.  

The ocean’s arms are sighing waves, bubbling and brisk, grasping and retreating in the same breath. Its belly is swollen with life from immense blue whales down to swarming clouds of single-celled, sun-hungry phytoplankton. Its language is ancient whispers; not parched and blistering and brittle sounds like the desert’s but cool, serene, supple, engulfing. And I can hear them all, if I listen closely enough. I can hear the sentient whistling of orcas, the breaking of waves against rocks, the scrabbling of sand crabs beneath the earth, the gruff distant barks of sea lions, the rustling of evergreen pine needles in the breeze. And I understand now why it was always so easy for vampires to be introspective, to lapse into thoughtful, unhurried silences. I could imagine spending decades just sitting here with my knees tucked to my chest and my hair whipping in the brackish wind, watching the seasons roll by like a wheel.

Joe was coming back from the gravel parking lot. I turned to watch him: red U Chicago hoodie, messy dark auburn-ish hair, a pizza box clasped in his hands. The GrubHub delivery driver was returning to his car with the toothiest of grins.

“Buon appetito!” Joe announced, dramatically presenting me with the pizza box. It had become our post-finals tradition each semester: pizza at La Push beach, half-pepperoni, half-pineapple.

“Grazie, sexy undead Italian man. Your accent is getting so good!”

“I know, right?! I’m on a twelve-day Duolingo streak. I can’t let that little green owl dude down.”

“I’m impressed, I’ll admit it. I gotta brush up on my Welsh. Why’s the GrubHub driver so cheery?”

“I tipped him $500.”

I smiled, opening the box and lifting out a semi-warm slice of pineapple pizza. Elastic strands of mozzarella cheese stretched like rubber bands until they snapped. “Aww, really?”

Joe plopped down onto the cool, damp sand beside me. “No. I lied. We’re actually having a torrid love affair.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “How could you possibly have time for all that?” Between school, business ventures, family activities, and me, Joe was very rarely unoccupied. And he preferred it that way.

“I’m so glad you asked. I’m very speedy, if you recall. And that’s just one of the exclusive services I offer. I am a man of many talents. I make people’s wildest dreams come true. Who am I to deny the GrubHub delivery man the wonderland that is my spindly, annoying body?”  

“You are the fastest,” I said, winking.

“Oh shut up! I mean, uh, uhhh, silenzio!” He pointed his slice of pepperoni pizza at me reproachfully. “That’s not what I meant. I’m not the fastest at everything.”

“Whatever you say, mob guy.”

He lunged for me, pinned me down in the crumbling sand, both of us laughing wildly as the crusts of our pizza slices bounded off and were snatched up by diving, screeching seagulls. He growled with mock savagery, braced his hips against mine, kissed his way from the corner of my jaw to my lips. That oh-so-familiar commanding, craving ache for him came roaring to the surface; and now there was no bittersweet edge to it, no inescapable backdrop of lambent numbers ticking down from five or ten or fifteen years to zero. Now there was only the calm, unurgent promise of forever.

“Joe—!”

“You have besmirched my honor, Baby Swan. I am left with no recourse but to refresh your clearly flawed memory and prove you wrong.”

“Public indecency? That’s illegal, sir.”

“Okay, you gotta stop stealing my catchphrases. It’s extremely difficult for me to come up with new ones. I’m almost a hundred years old, you know.”

“Alright, I guess you’re not bad in bed for a basically-centenarian.”

He smiled down at me, his dark eyes alight, the wind tearing through his hair, one palm resting on my forehead, uncharacteristically quiet.

“What?” I asked, worried.

“Nothing,” he said. “I’m just really glad we’re a thing.”

“You better be. You’re kind of stuck with me now. You’ve stolen my virtue, you’ve made me fall in love with your entire demented family, you’ve forced your torturous immortality upon me. I’m not going anywhere. Unless you ever stop funding my pineapple pizza addiction, of course.”

Joe chuckled as he climbed off me and took my hand in his, pulling me upright. “It’s absolutely ridiculous, by the way. Your insistence on being a sort-of vegetarian. It’s embarrassing. You’re the wimpiest vampire ever. You’re a disgrace to the coven.”

“I eat animals!” I objected.

“Yeah, when you have to.” And Joe was right: I steered clear of flesh outside of the two or three times a week when I hunted. For environmental sustainability reasons, I mostly consumed deer or rabbits; although the very occasional shark was my guilty pleasure. Joe gnawed on his second slice of pizza and peered out into the overcast, dusky horizon, wiping crumbs from his stubbled chin with the back of his hand. “We only have one more of these left,” he said at last, a little sadly. “One more finals season at Calawah University. One more celebratory dinner at La Push.”

“We’ll just have to get used to a new view. Pizza by the Chicago River, maybe.”

Joe looked over at me, thoughtful again, smiling. He had received his acceptance letter to the University of Chicago three weeks ago. I got mine eight days later. “It won’t be hard for you to leave Forks?”

“It will be. Once upon a time I didn’t think that was possible, but I will miss Forks. And not just because of Charlie and Archer and Jessica and Angela and all the Lees. But it was hard to leave Phoenix, and I’m sure one day it will be hard to leave Chicago. Just because change is hard doesn’t mean it’s not the right thing to do.”

Joe nodded introspectively. “Every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end.”

“Don’t quote classic rock songs at me, mixtapes boy.”

“You love my mixtapes,” he teased, circling his left arm around my waist, pulling me in closer, touching his lips to my forehead. Mint and pine and starlight sank into my lungs like an anchor through the surf. “And that saying actually goes all the way back to Seneca, my dear.”

“Don’t tell me he’s still philosophizing in some cloudy corner of the world somewhere.”

“Not to my knowledge. Although that’s an intriguing thought. We need more famous vampires. Caligula would have made for very interesting conversation. Lincoln, Napoleon, Cleopatra, Shakespeare, Dante...I guess it’s possible that anyone is still around. Maybe we should turn Meat Loaf. You know, for the good of posterity.”

“Is it not enough that they’re already cursed with student debt and global warming?”

Joe cackled, took my face in his palms, kissed each of my cheeks one after the other, then nudged my nose with his. “You ready to go, Baby Swan? I suspect we’re expected to participate in some holiday festivities tonight.”

“I’m ready,” I agreed. We threw our leftover pizza to the seagulls, disposed of the grease-spotted cardboard box, and walked back to my 1999 Honda Accord with our pulseless hands intertwined.

The evergreen trees along Routh 110 fled by beneath a sky freckling with stars. Sharp winter air poured in through the open windows. And I could feel that it was cold, in the same way that I could feel the warmth on Forks’ rare sweltering days; but there was no discomfort that accompanied that knowledge. Pain only came when the sky was unincumbered by thick clouds churning in off the Pacific, and then it felt something like staring into the sun had as a human. Sunglasses helped, but the surest remedy was avoidance, was surrender. And what an inconsequential price to pay for forever.

“Wait,” I said, spying the mailbox that marked the start of the Lees’ driveway. “They still deliver mail on Christmas Eve, right?”

“Uh, I think so, why...?” And then he remembered. “Oh, yeah, let’s check!”

I pulled up beside the mailbox and Joe leaned out, returning to his seat with a mountain of Christmas cards and business correspondence and advertisements from Costco and Sephora. He sifted through them until he found a single white envelope from the University of Chicago Pritzker School of Medicine. It was addressed to a Mr. Benjamin August Hardy. Joe held it up to show me as we drove down the driveway, the Lee house coming into view and ornamented with a frankly excessive amount of multicolored string lights and inflatable reindeer.

“Oh my god!” I squealed, drumming the steering wheel.

“You want to be the one to give it to him?”

“Are you serious?! Yeah, can I?”

Joe passed the envelope to me as I parked my geriatric Honda, which Archer had pledged to keep alive as long as physically possible. In return, Ben let him and Scarlett borrow the Aston Martin Vantage no less than once a week. I dashed out of the car, up the steps of the front porch, and into the house that bubbled over with the sounds of metallic kitchen clashes and frenetic voices and Wham!’s Last Christmas.

“Ben?!” I shouted.

“Hi, honey!” Mercy called from the living room, where she and Lucy were putting the final touches on Scarlett’s gown. Scarlett was playing the part of semi-willing victim, wearing gold heels and an impatient smirk and her hair out of the way in a milkmaid braid; her train of vivid red lace billowed across the hardwood floor. From the couch, Archer and Rami were playing Mario Kart on the big-screen tv and nibbling their way through a tray of homemade gingerbread cookies.

“Oh wow,” I said, clutching the envelope to my chest, mesmerized. I kept waiting for Scarlett to start looking like a normal person to me, and it never happened. Tonight, in the glow of the flameless candles and kaleidoscopic Christmas lights and draped in lace the color of pomegranate seeds, she was Persephone: a goddess of resurrection, a face that death himself could not pass by unscathed. “You’ve outdone yourself, Lucy. Seriously.”

“One day I’m going to get you out of those thrift shop sweaters,” Lucy threatened me, placing a pin in the fabric at Scarlett’s waist.

“Yeah, okay. Let me know when that shows up in one of your visions.”

“Bitch,” Lucy flung back, snickering, knowing how improbable that was. I still appeared in her visions extremely infrequently, and then only when I happened to be standing next to whoever the premonition was actually about.

“Language, dear,” Mercy tutted, inspecting the hem of Scarlett’s gown.

Joe arrived beside me, his arms still full of mail. “ScarJo, I almost didn’t recognize you! Why do you have, like, no cleavage or fishnets or thigh slits?”

“Why do you have like no eyelashes?” Scarlett replied. “See, I can ask unnecessary and invasive questions too.”

Joe frowned, wounded. “What’s wrong with my eyelashes?”

“Lucy, darling, I think it’s just a tad uneven on this side,” Mercy said, showing her. “Maybe by half an inch...?”

“No, seriously, what’s wrong with my eyelashes?!”

Mercy replied distractedly: “Nothing, honey, you’re perfect just the way you are.”

“Mom!” Joe groaned.

“It really is gorgeous,” Mercy marveled as Lucy flitted around her to investigate the hem situation. “And so Christmasy. So perfect for the season. Scarlett, dear, you were right after all, and I’m so sorry for doubting you. I’d just never heard of a red wedding dress before.”

“Mom, it’s not a fucking wedding!” Scarlett exclaimed, for probably the thirtieth time since Thanksgiving. “It’s a nonbinding, informal celebration of an egalitarian romantic partnership. Will somebody please inform this woman that it’s not a wedding?!”

“Yes, yes, of course, whatever you want, sweetheart,” Mercy conceded dreamily.

Joe pointed to Archer. “Isn’t he supposed to not see the dress until the day of or something?”

“What a great question!” Archer replied, still deeply invested in Mario Kart. “You see, that would be the case if this was a wedding. However, I’ve been informed in no uncertain terms that it is most definitely not.”

Scarlett grinned triumphantly at Joe. “There you have it.”

She might snap petulantly, and she might complain, but Scarlett wouldn’t be doing this if she didn’t want to; we were all intimately familiar with the futility of trying to force Scarlett into anything. The not-wedding, as improbable as it seemed, had been her idea from the start. And she wasn’t doing it for herself. She wasn’t even doing it for Archer. Scarlett was doing it for her mother.

The first six months had been hell for Mercy. She didn’t resent me, as I had feared she might; Mercy made that clear, and Rami confirmed it. But she was gutted. She wouldn’t speak of Gwil, wouldn’t listen to us talk about him, locked every photograph of him away in dark drawers, wandered around with a remote, uncanny, unseeing smile until she walked straight into walls; and then she would blink inanely up at them, as if they had dropped out of the sky rather than been built by her own hands. She baked hundreds of cakes and almost never slept. She told us she was fine every time we asked, which was more or less constantly. But on the very rare occasions when she was left alone, Mercy would unfailingly end up in the field behind the Lee house, gazing out into the forest of western hemlock trees with tears snaking silently down her cheeks, the muted light of the cloud-covered setting sun flickering red and furious on her face like wildfire.

And then one afternoon, a package had arrived from Arviat, Canada, where Cato and the rest of the surviving Draghi had relocated shortly after the rebellion at Vladivostok. It was five feet tall and another three wide, and what we found after carefully peeling away all those layers of foam padding and packing tape was a portrait of Gwilym so skillfully painted that it could have been mistaken for a photograph. Mercy had stared at it for a long time—ignoring Lucy’s attempts to guide her away, deaf to any of our concerns—until she at last picked up the portrait herself and said, quite evenly: “I think we should hang it in the living room, don’t you?”

Things had been better since then—very, very gradually, and yet unmistakably—and Gwil’s portrait remained mounted above the living room couch like a watchman, his eyes sparkling and blue, his faint smile stoic and fond and omniscient. But even in the wake of Mercy’s continued improvement, none of us kids were about to risk another agonizingly despondent Christmas. So the solution was obvious. We would keep Mercy preoccupied with what thrilled her more than absolutely anything else: the pseudo-weddings of her children. Rami and Lucy had already secretly volunteered to go next year...and after that, who knew? And there was one other thing that was making Mercy’s burden a little lighter these days.

Charlie sauntered into the living room, wearing an apron covered in cartwheeling Santas and wiping white dust like snow—powdered sugar? flour? baking soda?—from his ungainly hands. He was palpably proud. “The sugar cookies are officially in the oven. And I managed to fit them all on one baking sheet, isn’t that great?! Cuts down on dishes!”

“Why, yes, I suppose it does!” Mercy said, alarm dawning in her eyes. Had my beloved father placed the globs of dough too close together? Would we end up with one hideous, giant monster-cookie? Only time would tell. Providentially, Archer and Joe could be counted on to eat just about anything.

Joe sniffed the air, his forehead crinkling. “What’s burning?”

“Nothing should be burning,” Mercy replied, almost defensive, forever protective of Charlie and all of his profound, incurably human imperfections. Sometimes I thought that she preferred him that way, that he was a link to a simpler world in the same way I had once been, that he was a puddle of memory she could drop into, that maybe he wasn’t so unlike her first husband Arthur. “Not yet, anyway. The cookies need at least ten to twelve minutes at 350.”

“Wait, 350?!” Charlie exclaimed, horrorstruck. “I thought you said 450!”

“Oh, this is tragic,” Scarlett said.  

“I can fix it!” Mercy trilled buoyantly, breezing off to the kitchen as Charlie followed after her with a fountain of apologies. She shushed them away affectionately, patting his chest with her soft plump hands, chuckling about how luckily they had fire extinguishers stowed away in almost every closet just in case. And there were other reasons for that besides Charlie’s perilous baking attempts, but he didn’t know them. Now the record player was belting out Queen’s Thank God It’s Christmas.  

Archer lost another round in Mario Kart and exhaled a great, mournful sigh. “Hey, Baby Swanpire, can you do something about this guy?” He nodded to Rami. “This is criminal. It’s nowhere near a fair fight. He knows every freaking time I’m about to toss a banana peel.”

Rami smirked guiltily up at me from the couch, not bothering to deny it.

“Do you mind?” I asked him.

“Not at all,” Rami replied. “I want to show this loser I can beat him even without the benefit of mega-cool extrasensory superpowers.”

“Rude!” Archer cried.

“So rude,” Scarlett agreed, smiling.

“Okay, here we go.” I sat down beside Rami, still holding Ben’s envelope in my right hand, and laid my left against Rami’s cheek. And I felt a fistful of numbness—like instant peace, like milk-white Novocain—pass from my skin into his, rolling into his skull, deadening whatever telepathic livewires had been ignited there in the August of 1916. The effect would last anywhere from thirty minutes to a few hours; and it worked on every vampire I’d met so far.

“Whoa, trippy,” Rami murmured. “It’s still weird, every single time.” He peered drowsily around the room. “It’s...so...quiet?! You guys really live like this? No one is constantly bombarding you with sexual fantasies or romantic pining or depressive inner monologues? How do you function?! Now I’m alone with my own thoughts, that’s actually worse!”

“Hurry up and beat him while he’s all freaked out and vulnerable,” Scarlett told Archer.

Archer laughed, picking up his Nintendo 64 controller, radiant with the promise of vengeance. “Yes ma’am.”

“Any good mail?” Lucy asked Joe.

“Yeah. Coupons and a ton of Christmas cards from random people. The vet sent us one with alpacas on it, so that’s cute. Oh, and here’s one from our favorite Canadians.”

Joe held up the card so we could all see. The picture on the front showed Cato and Honora sitting on a large velvet, forest green couch with a hulking Christmas tree illuminated in the background. The others were arranged around them: Austin, Max, Ksenia, Charity, Araminta, Akari, Morana, Phelan, Aruna, Adair, Zora, Sahel, and a few new faces I couldn’t name yet. They were all wearing matching turtleneck sweaters. And every single one of them was smiling.

Joe cleared his throat theatrically and read the text on the inside of the card:

“Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!

(Oh, and Scarlett, congratulations on your not-marriage.)

- Cato Douglass Freeman”

“That bastard,” Scarlett muttered.

Rami offered me his controller. He had just slipped on a banana peel and rocketed off a cliff. “You want a turn?”

“No, thanks though. I have to talk to Ben. Is he around?”

Rami shrugged ruefully. “I would help, but my brain is temporarily broken.”

Scarlett rolled her eyes, taking a gingerbread cookie from the tray and biting into it as Lucy batted crumbs from the red lace dress, exasperated. “I think he’s out in the hot tub.”

“Cool. I shall return.”

Joe took my spot on the couch as I departed, shoveling cookies into his mouth, seizing Rami’s controller and kicking his feet up on the coffee table.

I opened the door to the back porch, and frigid December air rushed in like an uninvited guest. The field was coated with a thin layer of snow, the animals safe and warm in the barn, the garden slumbering. And in the spring and summer, when blossoms of a dozen different varieties came open beneath the drizzling grey skies, Mercy’s calla lilies didn’t bother my allergies at all. Nothing did anymore. Ben was indeed in the hot tub, puffing on his vape pen, wearing only a beanie hat and swim trunks.

“What flavor is that cartridge?” I asked as I approached. “Gummy bear?”

“Close. Strawberry doughnut.”

“Ohhhh, yum!” Ben passed me the vape pen, and I took a drag as I kicked off my boots and sat near him on the rim of the hot tub, slipping my bare feet beneath the steaming, roiling water. Then I handed his vape pen back. “So. Guess what I have for you.”

“Uh.” He glanced at the envelope. “Jury duty.”

“Better.”

“Someone I hate has jury duty.”

I flipped the envelope around so he could see the University of Chicago logo on the front.

“Oh god,” Ben moaned.

“Don’t you want to see what it says?”

“Not really,” he admitted, grimacing.

“Come on, Ben. Open it.”

“Nah.”

“Why not?!”

Ben sighed. “Look, if I open it and it’s bad news, it’s gonna make Christmas weird. Rami will know. They’ll all know. They’ll all feel bad for me and it’ll be pathetic and depressing and awkward. You can look if you want to, just don’t tell anyone else yet.”

“It’s not going to be bad news,” I said, tugging at the floppy top of his beanie hat. He swatted my hand away, but he was smiling grudgingly.

“You have positively no way of knowing that. Unless Lucy’s had a vision I’m unaware of.”

“She hasn’t. You know she never sees anything important.”

“She saw you coming,” Ben countered.

“She saw human-me and Joe in love and gobbling down pretzels at a Cubs game. So I’d say there were at least a few minor details missing.”

“There’s no way I got in,” Ben said, his green eyes slick and fearful and now fixed on the envelope. “We can’t all be geniuses like you.”

“That’s an unfair accusation. I’m far from genius. I’m just obsessed with the ocean.” I’d written my senior thesis on the feeding habits of Pacific angelsharks, and my advisor was still trying to figure out how I, an amateur scuba diver at best, had managed to get so many quality photographs with my underwater camera. The secret, of course, was superhuman agility and not needing to breathe.

“I fucking hate calculus. The MCAT wrecked me. I got a 517.”

“And their median score is a 519, so I’d say you still have a fighting chance. Plus you have like eight million volunteer hours.” Ben had spent the vast majority of the past year either in class or at the hospital. The psychiatrist-in-chief, Dr. Siegel, had been more than happy to take one of Gwil’s foster children under her wing. Every human in Forks except Archer believed that Dr. Gwilym Lee had drowned in a tragic boating accident while he and Mercy were on vacation in Southern California, and that his body had never been recovered. The town had held a wonderful remembrance ceremony and dedicated a free clinic at the hospital in his honor. “Now open it.”

“You do it,” Ben relented finally. “My hands are wet. Go ahead, open it up and tell me what it says. And then kindly euthanize me to end my immortal shame.”

“That wouldn’t work,” I pointed out, tearing open the envelope. I pulled out the tri-folded piece of paper inside, flattened it against my thighs, and read the typed black text.

“...Well?” Ben pressed, vaping frantically.

I looked up and smiled at him.

“No way,” he whispered.

“I hope you like pretzels and bear-themed baseball teams, grandpa.”

And for a second, I thought he might bolt up out of the hot tub, hooting victoriously, splashing water all over the back porch as he danced around bellowing that he’d gotten into one of the best medical schools in the world, that he would be following me and Joe to Chicago. But that wasn’t Ben. Instead, a slow smile rippled across his face: it was small, but perfectly genuine. Pure, even.

“Goddamn,” he said, watching me. Venom doesn’t just resurrect or ruin; it forms a bond that is simultaneously intangible and yet immense. It’s an evolutionary adaptation, a way to facilitate stability and the building of covens in an often violent and ruleless world. And now that he had turned me, Ben had family here in Forks in more ways than one.

“Gwil would be so proud of you, Ben.”

“I hope so. I really do.”

The back door of the house opened, and Joe stepped outside. He studied Ben for a moment, and that was all it took for him to know. “Benny!” he shouted, elated.

“I know, I know. Fortunately, I look amazing in red. Thanks, supermodel genes.”

“This is going to be so fun!” Joe said, sprinting over to wrap Ben—who was characteristically lukewarm on this whole physical displays of affection business—in a hug from just outside the hot tub. “We’re going to go furniture shopping, and eat deep-dish pizza, and find apartments right next to each other, and mail home Chicago-themed care packages, and get you hooked up with some gorgeous Italian woman...or whatever you like, I guess I shouldn’t assume. Women. Men. Gang members. Marine mammals. Jessicas. Whatever. There are options.”

Ben laughed as he playfully shoved Joe away. “Sounds like a plan, pagliaccio.”

“Oh my god, stop learning Italian without me! You realize you have to tell Mom now.”

“I will,” Ben agreed, with some trepidation. “I’ll wait until after Christmas.”

“It’ll be hard for her,” I said. “But she knows it’s what you want. She knows it’s what’s best for you. So she’ll get through it. I think it would be worse for her if you didn’t get in, if she had to see you unhappy.”

Ben nodded, exhaling strawberry-doughnut-flavored vapor, gazing up at the stars, Orion and Auriga and Lynx and Perseus reflected in his thoughtful jade eyes. “She’ll still have Rami and Lucy and Scarlett here with her. And Archer. And Charlie.”

“Especially Charlie,” Joe said, grinning.

Mercy would have to leave Forks eventually, of course. The Lees had already been here for nearly four years; they could stay another ten, perhaps fifteen at the absolute maximum. And there had been a time when ten or fifteen years seemed like quite a while to me, but now it felt like I could doze off one afternoon and wake up on the other side of it, like swimming a lap in the sun-drenched public pool back in Phoenix. We would find a new home somewhere after Joe and I finished our PhDs, after Ben finished medical school, maybe Vancouver or Buffalo or Amsterdam or Edinburgh or Dublin or Reykjavik. Wherever we went, I hoped it wouldn’t be far from the sea. But Mercy couldn’t bear to leave Forks yet. It was the last home she had shared with Gwil, the last house they would ever build together, and leaving it would make his loss all the more irrevocable. She would be ready to leave someday, but not today.

In the meantime, there would still be visits for breaks and holidays. Scarlett and Archer had the shop to keep them busy, a brand new eight-car garage that held a virtual monopoly on both the Forks and Quileute communities. Lucy had opened a bohemian-style clothing boutique downtown, which confounded most of the locals but attracted more adventurous customers from as far away as Seattle. Rami was interning for a local immigration lawyer and entertaining the possibility of applying to U Chicago’s law school in another few years. And Mercy had the farm; and she had Charlie. He had asked her for cooking lessons to try to help rouse her a few months after Gwil’s death, and it had grown from there. If it wasn’t romantic just yet, I believed it would be soon. And there were moments when I thought my father might have figured something out, when his eyes narrowed and lingered on me just a little too long, when his brow knitted into suspicious, searching lines, when the hairs rose on the back of his neck and some innate insight whispered that we weren’t like him and never could be again. But then he would chuckle, shake his head, and say: “You’ve gotten weird, my gorgeous, brilliant progeny. But Forks looks pretty good on you.”

“Can I talk to you upstairs?” Joe asked me suddenly; and did I see restless nerves flicker in his dark eyes? I thought I did.

“Sure,” I replied, climbing down from the hot tub. “Ben, are you coming inside? My dad is trying to bake Christmas cookies and failing miserably. It’s pretty hilarious. Not that you should be the one to critique other people’s kitchen-related accidents.”

“I do enjoy your company a lot more now that I don’t want to murder you and slurp you down like a Chick-fil-A milkshake,” Ben said. “Yeah, give me a few minutes and I’ll be there.” And as Joe and I headed into the house, I saw Ben pick up the acceptance letter that I’d left on the rim of the hot tub and read it for himself with incredulous eyes, grappling with the irrefutable fact that it was his name on the opening line, that he had somewhere along the way become the sort of man who dedicated his immortality to saving lives rather than ending them.

In the living room, Scarlett was back in her yoga pants and absolutely brutalizing Archer in Mario Kart. Rami and Lucy were entwined together on the loveseat, murmuring, giggling, feeding each other pieces of gingerbread cookies. In the kitchen, Charlie was leading Mercy in a clumsy waltz to Meat Loaf’s I’d Do Anything For Love, and each time he fumbled his steps or mortifyingly trod on her feet she would cry out in a peal of laughter brighter than the sun she had learned to live without. Joe spirited me up the staircase, into his bedroom—which, honestly, was more like our bedroom now, in the same way that my room in Charlie’s house had become Joe’s as well—and closed the door.

“You’re in luck,” he said. “Your dad totally ruined our song. Now I can’t hear it without thinking about some moustached guy in plaid trying to seduce my mom.”

“It’s the best Christmas gift I could ever ask for. Meat Loaf is vanquished. Oh, just so you’re aware, Renee and Paul are getting an Airbnb and coming up for New Years.”

“Cool. Do they still think I have a super embarrassing sunlight allergy and will break into hives and asphyxiate and that’s why we can’t visit them in Florida?”

“Yup.”

“Spectacular. Also, can you please tell me what’s wrong with my eyelashes?”

“They’re just a little sparse, amore. But I still like you.”

“Well, I am only moderately attractive, you know.” Then Joe steeled himself, taking a deep breath. Uh oh. He was definitely nervous. I still couldn’t believe I had the power to make him that way, but here we were. “So I get that we’re doing presents with the whole family tomorrow morning, and you do have some under the tree, so don’t worry about that. But there’s one I wanted to give to you alone. You know. With just us. Without an audience. Or whatever.”

“...Okay...?” A secret gift? A naughty gift? “I hope it’s a new vibrator.”

“Shut up,” Joe begged, laughing. “Here.” He reached into the drawer of his nightstand—our nightstand—and produced a small blue box topped with a turquoise bow. It wasn’t a ring, I was sure of that; I didn’t feel especially attached to the idea of marriage, and neither did Joe to my knowledge. How could rings or papers seal commitment when you already had eternity? I was right: the mysterious present was not a ring. When I removed the lid and emptied the box into my palm, what appeared there was a small plastic airplane.

“What is this?” I asked, amused but puzzled.

“Are you not college educated? It’s a plane.”

“Well, yeah, I can see that. But it’s also like two inches long.” I scrutinized the plane. “Are you magically transforming me into a tiny, tiny, little plastic person? Is that my gift? Because I actually got you something good.” And I really did: there was a collection of vintage Chicago Cubs photographs from the 1910s and 20s downstairs under the Christmas tree, packaged in Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer wrapping paper.

“We’re going on a trip,” Joe said, grinning. “The day after Christmas. It’s just a short trip, nothing huge, don’t get too excited, we’re not going to Mt. Everest or Antarctica or anything. I think you’ll still like it. But I don’t want you to know where we’re going until we’re there.”

“How will that work? Considering the tickets and signage and pilot announcements and obnoxiously noisy other passengers and all.”

“ScarJo’s going to fly us.”

“Really?!” We were taking the jet. We almost never used the jet. “What’s in it for Scarlett?”

“She found out that Archer’s never had In-N-Out Burger before and is very much looking forward to initiating him into the cult of deliciousness.”

“Oh nice. I could go for a vanilla milkshake myself, now that Ben mentioned them.”  

“Obviously I’m gonna buy you all the milkshakes and animal-style fries you want. Bankrupt me, bitch. But we have to get one other thing taken care of first.”

“So it’s somewhere they have In-N-Out Burger...” I pondered aloud. California? Texas? Las Vegas? I felt a brief but unambiguous pang of homesickness for Phoenix. But there was nothing there for me anymore.

“Stop,” Joe pleaded. “I’m sorry. I’ve already said too much. Please forget that. Get a traumatic brain injury or oxygen deprivation or something.”

“I hate to disappoint you, but I’m rather indestructible at the moment.”

He smiled wistfully. “I wouldn’t want you to be any other way.”

There was laughter downstairs in the living room. I could detect the aroma of a fresh batch of sugar cookies baking in the kitchen, mingling with the cold night air and pine trees and peppermint candy canes. I loved Christmas. The entire world smelled like Joe. The U Chicago décor, classic rock posters, and Italian flag were now interspersed with National Geographic pages and photos of the two of us together. The Official Whatever You Want Pass hung in a small, square picture frame on the wall above Joe’s bed. Our bed.

“How real is it, Joe?” I asked quietly. I climbed onto my tiptoes, linking my hands around the back of his neck with the tiny plane still tucked between my fingers. “Seriously. The wishes thing.”

“The world may never know. Akari never met me as a human, so she wouldn’t be able to say. But if I had to place a bet...” He shrugged, grinning craftily. “Kinda real. Kinda not real. Just like vampires, I guess.”

“I am alarmingly glad that you’re real, mob guy,” I said, abruptly somber. “I never thought I’d meet someone who saw me as remarkable, who could make me see myself that way. And it’s miraculous. And it’s terrifying too, honestly. Being a thing with you. Falling for someone you could have for centuries and lose in a second.”

“It’s the scariest thing there is,” Joe concurred, taking my hand to lead me back downstairs.

Joseph

Scarlett looks like a goddess, and she knows it. But she’s not one of those magnanimous, fragile, harp-plucking, pastel-colored goddesses. She’s ferocity and wildness and crimson like blood, and that’s exactly why Archer loves her. And as they stand in front of the Christmas tree with their hands clasped together—ivory on bronze, snow on sun—with matching sprigs of holly in Scarlett’s hair and pinned to the jacket of Archer’s suit, reciting truths but no promises, I can’t help but watch the other faces in the room: Rami, Lucy, Ben, Charlie, Mom with her beaming smile and shining eyes, the woman I met sixteen months ago and now can’t fathom life without. And it occurs to me for the first time that love, in its cleanest form, isn’t something that changes people as much as it allows them to become who they truly are.

On the evening of December 26th, as soon as the sun dips beneath the western horizon, we board the jet in the Forks Airport hangar. It’s much easier for Scarlett to fly at night; otherwise she has to wear two or three pairs of sunglasses on top of each other, and even then it’s still painful, it still feels like blinding needles burrowing into the jelly of her retinas. That’s not a wrench in my plans or anything. It needs to be night where we’re going, too.

Vampire hyper-acuity notwithstanding, FAA regulations require Scarlett to have a copilot, so Archer joins her in the flight deck with his newly-minted license and spends most of the journey flipping through the latest issue of Motor Trend. As we begin our descent, he peeks back at us and teases: “It’ll be your turn eventually, guys. Scarlett and I did our time. Rami and Lucy can go next year. And after that...unless Ben happens to find someone worthy of a not-wedding...” He wiggles his black eyebrows.

“Bring it on,” I reply casually. “Fake wedding are my jam. It’ll be ocean themed. Or Roaring ‘20s themed. And we’ll all do the Cha-Cha Slide in the living room and shame Ben as a bonding activity.”

“Mercy can set up a mashed potatoes bar,” Baby Swan adds.

“Yeah. With pineapple.”

“No. Not on potatoes.”

“Yes on potatoes.”

“Over my dead body.”

“Too late,” I tell her, touching my lips to the knuckles of her cool, steady hand.

We touch down at a small noncommercial airport just outside the city, and Scarlett and Archer stay back to secure the plane as Baby Swan follows me outside. And she realizes where we are as soon as the wind hits her, as soon as her eyes soak up the sand and cacti and cloudless night sky like rain swallowed up by parched earth.

“Phoenix,” she whispers, smiling like a child.

“But wait, there’s more!” I announce in my best Billy Mays voice. I take the little glass bottle from my pocket, walk across the runway to the naked desert, crouch down when I find a suitable spot, and fill the bottle with dry, sandy earth that crumbles in my palms. Then I seal the bottle with a tiny cork and bring it back to give it to her.

“I know what it’s like to have to leave home,” I say. “You’ve had to say goodbye to Phoenix, and soon you’ll have to say goodbye to Forks, and next will be Chicago, on and on forever. You’ll always be leaving the places you learn to call home. Every five or ten or fifteen years, we start over again. Like a snake shedding its skin, like a hermit crab swapping shells. Like the water that travels from rain to seawater to mist and then back again. But now you can always have a little piece of home with you, and maybe that will make it easier.”

She takes the glass bottle and shakes her head in disbelief, in wonder. Because this is exactly what she wanted, what she needed, even if she didn’t know it yet. “Joe...how did you...?”

“What’d I tell ya? I’m a talented guy. Now you have to dance with me.”

She laughs. “Oh no. Hard pass. I don’t dance.”

“When we’re alone in my bedroom you do. So just pretend we’re alone now. In, like, a really really spacious, sandy bedroom. With probably some lizards.”

“Fine. But only because I’m willing to degrade myself for milkshakes.”

She slides the glass bottle of Arizona earth into her pocket and takes my hands. She’s still a pretty terrible dancer, honestly. She hasn’t lost that. And I love that about her. I love damn near everything about her. And it took me a long time to figure out what exactly her subtle yet peerless cocktail of fragrance is, because it wasn’t somewhere I’d ever been. The scent that drifts from her pores—the scent that now lives in my bedsheets like a shadow or a ghost—is sunlight and heat and clarity and resilience and wisdom older than the pyramids. Her scent is the desert.

Now she’s mischievous, her eyes gleaming with the reflections of the Milky Way and the full moon and the stars that are dead and yet eternal, just like us. “So what, you think you’re Vampire Boyfriend Of The Year material now or what? Some dirt and In-N-Out Burger? That’s the height of your game? Is this what I have to look forward to for the rest of my perpetual existence? I totally should have pursued that polyamorous triad with Scarlett and Archer when I had the chance—”

“Yeah,” I say, very softly, smiling, tilting up her chin to kiss her beneath the universe and all its eccentricities. “I love you too.”

[hermannsthumb]

26 + 70 please! I'm loving these!

Anonymous asked: 89 + 70 to ease ur boredom?

26. Massage Fic + 70. Locked in a Room + 89. First Time

from fanfiction trope mash-up prompts here

some VERY OLD prompt fills I never got around to finishing! im talking like 3 years old. better late than never? this fic has a similar conceit to this one I posted last year, but it’s not like newt and hermann aren’t probably quarantining themselves constantly after lab accidents LMAO. sexy/not SFW stuff under cut

—————————————————————————————

“Mandatory isolation,” Newton says. “This blows.”

Hermann says nothing, choosing instead to aggressively turn a page in his book. He’s already said plenty to Newton on the subject, and he doesn’t imagine anything he has to say now will provide any new insights, or indeed even be moderately politer. Newton has—really, really—royally screwed things up this time. More than anything he has before. Hermann finds his anger over it all to be quite righteous, really. “Hm,” he hums instead. He turns another page.

“One whole week,” Newton says. “Locked in, nothing to do…”

Hermann grits his teeth. Truthfully, the book is for show, and for the excuse to ignore Newton, but it’s very hard to pretend to concentrate on it when Newton won’t stop talking to him. It’s especially irritating considering Newton is saying absolutely nothing of value. Then again, when is he ever? “Is there something you’re trying to say to me?” Hermann says.

Newton shakes his head. He’s playing with one of the little stress toys he keeps in his desk (a large foam strawberry), squeezing it over and over. “Oh, nothing. Just trying to make small talk.”

One whole week, locked inside the laboratory after one stupid little mistake meant Newton’s scalpel slipped where it shouldn’t have on his kaiju sample. One whole week of bloody self-isolation to make sure they don’t…infect the Shatterdome with anything they might’ve picked up in the resulting explosion. Not even a day in and Newton is already acting up. Kaiju withdrawal, perhaps, having been explicitly forbidden from working on any new samples until their containment passes. Squeeze. Squeeze. Hermann flips another page in his book. Newton clears his throat. “I know you’re not actually reading that,” he says.

“Aren’t I?” Hermann says.

Newton tosses the foam strawberry in the air with one hand and catches it with the other. “Tell me one thing that’s happened so far in it. Actually—tell me the title.”

“The title,” Hermann says, “is—”

“And no peeking,” Newton says.

This stumps Hermann. He slams the cover shut and makes to chuck the whole thing at Newton’s head, but decides better of it. He could get written up for workplace violence or some rubbish of that sort. Plus, without access to medical until the end of the week, Hermann would be the one who had to tend to any resulting wounds. Not worth it. “Fine,” he says. “I’m not reading it. Are you pleased, now that you have my undivided attention?”

Squeeze. “I guess,” Newton says. He smiles at Hermann. “Want me to suck your dick?”

This the last thing Hermann expects to hear. He startles; he blushes; he stammers; he nearly falls off his chair. Surely he must’ve misheard Newton—or, if he didn’t, surely Newton is teasing him. Newton has never done anything of that sort to Hermann before. Nor has he ever offered. It’s simply not how their relationship works. “I,” he says. “What?”

“Do you want a blowjob?” Newton says. So Hermann didn’t imagine it. “I just thought, since we’re both stuck here and bored as shit, may as well have some fun. People tell me I’m pretty good at it.”

“Good at—what?” Hermann says.

“At sucking dick,” Newton says. “Obviously.”

Hermann wonders what the appropriate response here is. Certainly he would like nothing more than to take Newton up on the offer and forget all his annoyances for a few wonderful minutes, or rather, to take his annoyances out on Newton’s never-ceasing mouth. If Newton’s offer is serious, Hermann is sure such an acceptance would be welcome. If Newton is not serious—if he means it as a joke—it could only lead to humiliation for Hermann. Something for Newton to hold over his head for the rest of the week. Hermann really thought Newton would suck him off? But the temptation of getting Newton’s mouth on him is too much for Hermann to resist, and he really is quite bored: he nods, shyly, and legs his legs part open an inch.

Newton grins.

He tosses his stress toy to his desk and gets down on his knees in front of Hermann with an admirable speed. Not saying a word, he settles his hand on Hermann’s thigh, then creeps his fingers along Hermann’s right inseam. “I bet it’ll make you feel better,” he says. “It’s gonna make me feel better. When’s the last time someone blew you, Hermann?” He fixes his eyes on the vee of Hermann’s parted legs, where the fabric of his trousers is tightening none-too-subtly at the mere notion of what Newton is offering. Hermann makes a weak show of closing them. He swallows a few times.

“I don’t, ah—I don’t remember.” Newton’s wandering fingers stop just before where Hermann wants them most, then skip over to the left side. “A few months. Years. Newton, I must—must ask—why are you…?”

Newton shrugs, and begins rubbing circles across Hermann’s inner thigh. “I’ve been thinking about how to get you to stop being pissed at me all day, and honestly, this seemed like it would work. Pretend it’s an apology or something. Man, Hermann, you’re tense.”

“You have no one to thank for that but yourself,” Hermann says. He shuts his eyes with a groan when Newton squeezes his left thigh like it’s his bloody stress toy. “By Jove, Newton, that feels marvelous.”

“Tense,” Newton says. “I told you. You don’t need a blowjob, dude, you need a goddamn massage.” He braces a hand on each of Hermann’s thighs and begins to work them over—clumsily, since (for all his skills in human biology) Newton is hardly a masseuse, but far better than anything Hermann could do all the same. Hermann sinks lower in his seat and muffles another embarrassing noise behind his hand. “Luckily, though,” Newton says, “I’m gonna give you both, because I’m an awesome lab partner. Let me know if something starts to hurt.”

Newton begins to focus his efforts on Hermann’s left leg, avoiding his knee at first, and then tentatively working his fingers over it as well. Hermann wonders if Newton can feel the scar tissue beneath his fingertips, or if Hermann’s trousers are acting as buffer enough for it. Hermann begins to sag in his chair. He feels positively boneless. He also feels that if Newton does not move those fingers (or, better yet, and as promised, his mouth) to his rapidly-stiffening prick soon, he’ll positively burst. “You enjoying yourself?” Newton says.

“Mm,” Hermann says. “Though, Newton—I don’t mean to be impolite, as I’m awfully grateful for this, but…”

Newton laughs, and with a final parting squeeze to Hermann’s leg, moves those lovely fingers to Hermann’s belt buckle and fly instead. “I got you, man.”

Hermann opens his eyes (not fancying missing this) and watches with bated breath as Newton draws down his trousers to settle comfortably at Hermann’s knees. He nearly blushes at the sight of his white boxer briefs, not just for their plainness, but for how badly they hide how wet his prickhead is already. Newton must feel Hermann’s eyes on him; he shoots Hermann a wink, and, not breaking eye contact, leans forward to press a wet, open-mouthed kiss to Hermann through his briefs.

Immediately Hermann clamps a hand down over his mouth to keep from shouting. He feels Newton laugh again, a vibration that thrums in the pit of Hermann’s stomach, and he pushes his hips eagerly up towards Newton’s mouth. Newton darts his tongue out this time, dampening the fabric of Hermann’s briefs further. Then he tucks their elastic waistband down below Hermann’s prick. “I didn’t expect it to look like this,” he says, and grazes his thumb idly across the head. He pulls it away sticky, and Hermann whimpers.

He moves his hand from his mouth long enough to say, “Have—have you thought about it often, then?” He means it teasingly—to regain some ground from Newton, some sliver of self-respect—but his voice trembles, and Newton’s grin returns with a certain lasciviousness to it that it’d not held before, and Hermann knows he’s merely given Newton more ammunition. He licks Hermann’s precum off his thumb. Hermann shivers.

“Oh, sure,” Newton says. “I jerk off thinking about your dick all the time.” He flicks his tongue over Hermann and makes a satisfied little noise, his eyelashes fluttering. He leaves another sucking kiss further down Hermann’s prick. Then another back up at the top. His fingers (Hermann notices vaguely, as if through a heavy fog) have begun rubbing soothingly at Hermann’s left hip. Hermann can only take so much: when Newton finally gets his whole mouth on him, two pink lips circling just under his head, Hermann grips blindly at Newton’s hair and comes down Newton’s throat with a muffled grunt. He feels Newton choke, but swallow it all down.

“I’m sorry,” he gasps, when he finally finds himself able to speak. “I ought—ought to have warned you.”

But Newton merely wipes his smug little mouth on the cuff of his sleeve and waves Hermann off. “I’m just that awesome, huh?” he says. He gently tucks Hermann back into his briefs, then does up his trousers. “It’s cool. It was pretty hot, actually.” Once he finishes looping Hermann’s belt, he stands and stretches his arms above his head with a groan. “Hey, you want some coffee?”

“Coffee?” Hermann says, dizzily.

“Yeah, I was gonna brew a pot,” Newton says. “Get the taste out of my mouth and everything.”

Hermann blinks at him. Newton’s rather thrown him for a loop. Aren’t these sorts of things meant to be reciprocated? Hermann didn’t mean to assume—but he really was looking forward to the chance to, er, give Newton a similar favor. Very much looking forward to it. “That’s it, then?” he says.

“We have six days to go, dude,” Newton says. “No need to rush anything, right? We can work on your,” he smirks, “endurance after lunch.”

“Oh,” Hermann says. He considers it. “Coffee would be nice, then.”

[zuzu-hotman]

Ready To Love P.6 [[Zuko]]

Pairing: Zuko x Female!Reader

Warnings: The usuallll as well as mentions of death and darkish themes??

A/N: this is late and shitty im sorrryyyy

Pt.1,, Pt.5,, Masterlist

“....”

“What were you expecting him to return and sweep you away? Foolish.”, her words cut deeper than they ever had. Hitting the rusted old nail directly on it’s head.

Azula never much cared to talk to you. Not when he was here and not even when he had been banished, as he was now. However when she did speak to you, it was always when she knew she would inflict the most pain.

When she knew she could gut you so deep, it would haunt you for years to come.

She laughed as she looked down upon you. It was not a happy sound. Nothing like her older sibling, who had always laughed with joy in his heart, when he had it. Hers was cruel- meant to make you seethe. She had the gall to laugh in your face after telling you the ‘news’. You were sadly hoping for good news. You knew Azula was like this- you had always known she was not good. You just didn’t know her well enough to really determine if it was fully true.

Lesson learned.

“Oh, don’t cry now. Not when I haven’t gotten to have my fun yet! I’ve been absolutely dying for a chance to get rid of you! You see, you get in my dear friend Mai’s way!”, she gives you an eerie smile, “It’s only fitting that I, one of her dearest friends, takes care of the issue!”

She talks as if she’s doing some sort of favor. Like she’s doing something absolutely necessary. Your tears sliding down our face don’t stop her at all. She acts as if they aren’t there. She acts as if she hasn’t just told you your father was killed for his ‘crimes’.Killed for being an Earth Bender from the Earth Kingdoms. For being who he was.

For not being Fire Nation.

“You see, my Dad doesn’t care to do multiple executions in a day. Takes up too much time. You and your Mother are granted a sliver of mercy. You two are to leave immediately. Now, if you dare step foot in this land again, there will be no mercy, understand?”, she gives you a wide grin. “No more living here and no more Zuzu for you. See, I could have had you killed but since you’ve done nothing to me personally, I’ll be nice this once.”

That had made you snap, “Nice. Nice? You call that being nice?!”

Her face turns sour, “Excuse me?”

“You heard me! You just told me my father was killed- you made no attempt to try and stop it! You come in my home and you tease me and laugh like you didn’t have a hand in his death! How did you even know who he was!”, you can feel yourself shaking. Can feel your deepest secret threatening to rise up within you. He’d told you to hide it while you were here, to never use it. How would you escape if you did? So close to the heart of the royal grounds?

“Hah. Your dad was a fool. Using his bending on palace grounds. He put up a real fight, but he was clearly outnumbered and outmatched. As all Earth fools are.”

She wasn’t going to tell you. That much was clear.

You tried to hold back, you really did. Azula just had a knack for bringing out the worst in people. You’re not proud of what you did. Yet you don’t regret it. The look on her face was priceless.

Perhaps you hadn’t actually beaten her, but it was as close as you’d ever get. Still, she always had the last word.

“He’ll never like you. You’ll be sad all your miserable life! You’re a fake! A liar! You never belonged here! Useless Earth peasant!”

So then what was this? You were certain she was right, despite how your heart had hoped. You were sure you’d see him with Mai- or with some other pretty Fire Nation girl. Someone other than you. You had especially believed this when he looked at you like that back underground in Ba Sing Se. He had finally seen you then. Who you were and where you came from. His actions at that time had you thinking he’d never see you as anything ever again.

Sure, you were wrong. He had wanted his friend back. You just didn’t know he’d want more. Much more.

Unfortunately, he took your stunned silence the wrong way. The hurt look in his face broke your heart for the split second he allowed you to see it.

“Right.”, he had said, “I’m sorry I- we should get ready to leave.”

He didn’t give you a chance to try to pull him back. Not that your mind gave you one either. You were still reeling, even now, sitting in Appa’s saddle, staring up at the passing clouds. Him? Love you? Since when?

How?

What was it that he loved about you- though couldn’t you ask yourself the same?

You had an answer though. Multiple answers, ranging from the way he smiled to the way he never saw you as just some lowly peasant. New ones being added like how he loved his Uncle and valued what he thought of him. How he’d proved his will and determination to change, to admit everything he was taught back in his own home was wrong. To make the choice himself to leave everything behind and do what was right, despite the massive hatred he had gained from his own flesh and blood.

His strength, no matter how it may have wavered.

Just him in general.

You should be on cloud nine right now- you should be feeling so light, so why weren’t you? What was holding you back?

“You think he’ll ever want you around anymore once he knows? It’s not your being an Earth Bender. It’s your lies. It’s you never telling him, or, oh.. not trusting him. Poor Zuzu..”

Her words still echoed to this day. Unfortunately, she still haunted you. From her smile as she shattered your life as you knew it, to the same one she wore when she saw Zuko react to you that day.

You couldn’t let her hold you back all your life, otherwise her lies would become truths. Zuko wouldn’t lie about something like that. He wasn’t Azula. You couldn’t compare the two.

The only comparison was the often bad timing. The difference was, Azula’s timing was bad because she was not on their side of things. She was an inconvenience. Zuko had no sense of time. A war was ahead of him. The world was on the verge of combusting as he knew it. There was no right time.

You could agree with him. Tomorrow was not guaranteed. A future was not promised, only hoped for.

So, as you moved your gaze to the back of his head in front of you, you made up your mind.

Words were not wasted in asking him to follow you that night. You didn’t care that you had just grabbed him from his conversation with Aang. Didn't think to respond to the look of shock on either of their faces as you took him by the arm and dragged him away. You also didn’t think of how it might be perceived on his end.

Zuko was sure you were going to chew him out. He followed you, matching your urgency with dread in the pit of his stomach. Had he crossed a line that night? Were you mad now? He hadn’t meant to upset you- he wasn’t lying. He had thought about it over and over and over again. He came to that conclusion after asking himself hundreds upon thousands of questions.

Why had he missed you so much? What was it about your laughter that he craved? Why did he enjoy clasping your hand in his? What was the reason for him always thinking of you when he was welcomed back home? Thinking of where he would take you and what he would show you? Now that you were both older and he had more freedom?

How come his heart cried for you when you told him the loss of your beloved father? What made his heart ache at you having to harbor a life threatening secret all on your own- being unable to tell him even when your life was once secure?

What was it about you?

The answer was not being his childhood friend. It was just being you. Being the best escape from his life at home. Being his definition of home. He’d been lost without you. Sad and hurt and unable to grasp why aside from his banishment and the brutal punishment from his own father. You were in his very bones and soul. He could live with you just as his friend if that’s what you wanted. He just couldn’t live with not telling you. Couldn’t go on thinking he might die and never get to tell you how he felt and how horribly sorry he was for everything.

Sorry you had to meet him and be hurt by him. Sorry his own Nation was the way it was. So very sorry he loved you so deeply despite being so young and new to such feelings.

“Do you truly mean what you said?”, you say after some fast marching into a quiet and far off area of the beach. 

A few waves crashed here and there as he stared into your eyes, searching for something, anything to make sense of this.The salty air filled his lungs, mingling in with your own soft scent.

“Answer me.”, you say, impatient.

“Wh- of course I- why are you asking? I apologized- I shouldn’t have-”

“I’m not asking for an apology. I want a serious straight answer. Did you mean that?”

You looked determined and he’s not sure what for. Regardless, he braces himself for a smack to the face, “I did.”

You stare at him, unmoving for a few long beats of silence. “Okay.”

“...Okay?”

You nod, “Okay.”

Zuko is thoroughly confused. Okay what? What was this all about? Were you mad or not- he sees you raise your hands up quickly. He wonders if you’re going to hit him or bend at him- maybe shake the hell out of him. He probably deserved it, but you didn’t do that.

You reached up, held his face so softly in his face. The softest caress he’d ever felt in his life. Your small smile matched it perfectly.

“You just don’t learn do you?”

He couldn’t even question what you meant. He wasn’t given the time or even a chance. In a split second you had him swirling. Quicker than he could see, your lips were on his. Gentle as ever, capturing his in the sweetest way..

“ Yᴏᴜ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛ ᴏɴᴇʟʏ ᴡᴀs ᴀ ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏғ ᴍᴇ..”

Pt.7

[goggles-mcgee]

So apple flipped the table when she and raven talked can we see that conversation and then the fight with dexter afterwards please im so intrested

She almost flipped the table but yeah of course!!

~♤~♡~◇~♧~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~♧~◇~♡~♤~

Raven took a deep breath to calm herself as they neared The Wonderland Haberdashery & Tea Shoppe, she was grateful that Dexter was there and was holding her hand the entire time but with Darling and Daring there as well, and all three of them with their swords, it really wasn't helping her nerves. Which was ridiculous, she shouldn't be nervous to see Apple and yet...she was...she really was. When she had first woken up she hadn't even thought about the fact she had been poisoned with the sleep like death, but when she admitted she didn't remember much other than taking a bite out of the tart that was given to her. Apparently someone left it in the kitchen and they had seen her name on a tag before it had fallen and had gotten lost somewhere during the lunch rush, she was surprised but well, apple tarts were her favorite dessert and somehow someone had known. It wasn't something she liked to admit due to her story but she had felt her cheeks flush and a happy smile slip onto his lips and she had eagerly gotten a forkful and that was all she remembered, after that it was all dark.

That was something she hated, people kept asking her what it was like to be under that enchanted sleep, Blondie kept asking if she dreamed and Raven honestly would rather forget the experience altogether. She didn't dream...it had felt as though she had stopped existing...it was one of the hardest things to experience and she wouldn't wish it to happen to anyone. Briar asked and she was the only one besides Holly and Poppy that Raven had told the truth to. She hadn't even told Dexter or her own mother what it felt like. Then there was the matter of who poisoned her...she just couldn't wrap her head around it, yeah they got into a fight but Raven thought her and Apple were hexcellent friends. Raven had been annoyed at Apple's actions lately, but she chalked it up to Apple's mom putting pressure on her, she never thought Apple would try to make her hate her the way she did. The sad part? Raven didn't hate Apple despite what she had done, she felt bad for her. Which is why she agreed to this lunch in the first place.

She agreed with her mother to let Dex take her and tried to limit it to only him but her mother and surprisingly the Charming siblings argued she needed them all. It had befuddled her so much that she just agreed to the extra "security" and here they were. The Charming Siblings were talking amongst themselves but you could tell they were alert, especially Dexter, she could feel how tense he was the closer they got to the door.

As soon as the reached it Daring opened the door with a flourish and bowed to Raven as he motioned her inside with a wink. She rolled her eyes but stepped in and immediately zeroed in on Apple sitting near the back. It wasn't hard to find her, everyone else in the shop seemed to sit everywhere else but near her and the sight made Raven's heart clench. She ignored the looks and the whispers and she briskly walked up to Apple's table, she gave the girl a small smile as she took the seat across from her. Dexter didn't sit but he stood near her, Daring and Darling stood closer to the door though Darling was closer but Raven noticed neither was looking at them. It was almost like they couldn't make themselves look at Apple.

"Thanks for coming finally. I ordered your usual tea." Apple's voice was full of honey that promised the presence of wasps but Raven tried not to let it get to her.

"Thanks for inviting me Apple." Raven replied politely as she grabbed the cup in front of her, she was going to take a drink to calm her nerves but Dexter stopped her and gently grabbed the cup from her but she could see how much he was holding himself back. From what? She didn't know but she frowned and was about to ask him what he was doing but when she looked up she saw he was glaring straight at Apple who let out a wry chuckle.

"I didn't poison it Dexter." She said with a roll of her eyes and it made Raven's stomach drop, more so when Apple looked at her. "Did you really have to bring the bodyguards?"

"It wasn't her choice." Dexter grit out, Raven had never seen him so serious or wound up. "And forgive me for not believing you Poison Apple."

Raven felt dizzy as she watched the two. Especially when she heard Apple growl, Apple never growled.

"Don't call me that!"

"It's the name you earned." Who knew Dexter could be so cold...

"Stop." Raven pleaded as she grabbed Dexter's hand. "If you're....worried that she's...done something can you get me a new pot of tea or something. Just please...I want you two to stop."

Dexter softened, if only a bit but motioned for Daring to get her her drink. Raven had to calm herself from doing something foolish like yelling, she knew he meant well but she wasn't made of glass. He didn't have to stand there like a suit of armor, she would actually have been less frustrated if he had sat down next to her. She knew he didn't trust Apple but this...this was madness! And not the good kind!

"Shut up with that goodey goodey talk Queen." Raven felt as though she was slapped when she realized that Apple had said it and was glaring at her with such hatred...what did she do to deserve that??? They were friends...they had been friends...hadn't they? "Don't act like you're some saint. This is all your fault."

"My faul.....Apple. I didn't do anything to you!" Raven had already been frustrated she felt desperate to get Apple to see her mistakes.

"Exactly! If you had just stuck to our story I would still have EVERYTHING. You. Took. Everything!" Apple yelled as she slowly stood up, pushing the table towards Raven when she did. Raven did the same only so she didn't have to feel the press of the table, she felt Dexter behind her, his hand laid on the small of her back and she took comfort in the warmth.

"You....You can't be serious. Apple. You did this to yourself!" Raven yelled back.

Raven watched as apple grabbed the corner of the table, her eyes on fire as she glared at Raven with clenched teeth. "NO I DIDN'T! I DID NOT! I DID WHAT WAS NECESSARY FOR MY HAPPILY EVER AFTER AND YOU RUINED IT YOU WITCH!"

It was like everything had gone in slow motion, she had braced herself to be hit with the table once Apple flipped it but it didn't happen, Apple had barely tipped it when Raven had heard a SHINK! and saw the glare of the sun bouncing off Dexter's sword which was pointed right at Apple. The air was tight as everyone held their breaths, waiting to see what would happen. Raven watched as Apple looked at the sword and then Dexter, she watched those blue eyes go through a storm of emotions, hate, fury, confusion, hurt, fear....and back at hate. Apple huffed and set the table down loudly and stalked out of the shop, the clicking of her heels sounding ominous as she did so.

"Are you alright?" Dexter asked as he quickly put his sword away and cradled Raven's face. The gesture was sweet but all Raven tasted was bitterness. She stepped back and frowned.

"Why would you do that? Did you see Apple's face?"

Dexter frowned and scrunched his nose. "She was going to flip that table at you! You know she was!"

"And if she was? I could have stopped it! Or we could have talked to her instead of raising our weapons first!"

"Talk to...Raven. Poison Apple has shown she's more prone to action that words!"

"Don't call her that! That's what riled her up! If we just talked maybe I could have talked some sense into her!" Raven's throat felt raw but if she didn't say this now, she had a feeling she wouldn't have said it at all.

"Sense? Raven she has none! Briar tried okay, and it did nothing. She doesn't feel bad about poisoning you, she doesn't feel bad about all the stunts she pulled trying to make you look bad. She doesn't care. I don't think you talking with her would have made a difference." Towards the end his voice got softer, he wasn't yelling anymore but you could tell Dexter was still mad and anxious. He kept running his fingers through his hair so it looked more unkempt than usual.

"Well I don't know that. Because you wouldn't let me try. You guys are great and I love having you around but enough is enough. Stop treating me as though I'm made of glass. I'm not! I want a boyfriend Dex. Not a babysitter."

"I know you're not Raven, but Poison Apple still poisoned you. You were gone for a little over a month, nearing two. So I'm sorry if we care about your wellbeing since you don't seem to." Dexter huffed out, his nostrils flaring like a bull that just saw red.

Raven didn't say anything, because she knew if she did she would say something really hurtful, she was so frustrated and her magic was bubbling in response. "You think. I want to go back to that. To sleep? Because I don't. I wouldn't wish that upon any not even Apple. You think I'm not scared of it happening again?"

Her magic was pulling and pushing her at the same time, she needed to calm down but she just couldn't. She took a step back from Dexter and more towards the kitchen door. "I THOUGHT I WAS GOING TO DIE......I thought....I was slowly being convinced that I didn't exist...so don't you dare tell me I don't care. I'm terrified that this? All of this is some dream and I'm still in that glass coffin! So forgive me if I just want to make sense of it ALL."

She was crying but she didn't care, her throat hurt but she didn't care, but after the final word she did care. It all flooded back into her and her magic exploded the lights around her. Raven felt like she was 6 years old all over again and with one last look at Dexter and giving a soft sorry to everyone else she fled out the back door and ignored the call of her name.

She needed to see Maddie and Cerise.