#(i wasn't going to stop writing the story but yeah)

[telesodalite]

With Krok now on my mind, it's reminded me of like, the whole deal of him coping with the loss of his squad by believing they'd just become separated? Because that bit is such a fascinating aspect of his character to me.

It's vague in a way that doesn't totally confirm whether he truly 100% deluded himself, or if he just kept telling himself that to try and distract from the truth and memories he didn't want to face.

(Which, for some reason this pisses Misfire off? Which implies something really interesting there about Misfire and his own coping mechanisms and issues that we don't get much of a peer into unfortunately.)

Anyway, I spent way too long thinking about it when I was reading through the comics. And it's like, did studying battles and strategy play a part in this delusion/lie?

Like, you're a being that lives for millions of years, in the middle of a war spanning those millions of years. So, at some point, surely those battles are going to start to blur together. So you've got that, and then you go and face a frankly horrifically traumatic fight that quite literally rips the people you cared about most, and felt responsible for, apart.

Presumably, Decepticons aren't the greatest at handling shell shock and other such side effects of war. So they just take this freshly traumatized mess of a dude, take him off the front lines and plant him on a warworld to aid the fight from a more comfortable distance.

With all this, the mind is bound to be fickle when faced with such sudden loss and change. But Krok obviously did his job there, or at least he was very knowledgeable on history and tactics beforehand.

Either way, he studied battle after battle, went through records of fight after fight, planned for what's next and reconsidered what had already happened. Hundreds of wins and losses.

So did it get jumbled there? In having a head full of battles, did some of them blur and mix with the one that took everything away from him? In trying to solve the failures of past battles, did he try and find where a victory could've been had against the wreckers that day? Did he find a solution that would've had his squad still whole and alive?

From there, did it slip into delusion, or a desperate lie to keep himself going?

I feel like his "mental health matters" moment was an interesting insight into it and possibly the average soldier's rough outlook on trauma. But it was still very surface level I think, but I guess going too deep into the why's and how's wouldn't have been important until maybe the Scavenger centric comics that uh, never happened :/

[starlit-hopes-and-dreams]

11) what aspect of your writing do you think has most improved since you started writing? 21) what do you think when you read over your older work?

(also known as: go edit!)

I'm trying to edit!! :p lol Thanks for the ask! From this ask game.

11) what aspect of your writing do you think has most improved since you started writing? Oy, what hasn't? 😅 Hmm, it's hard to choose. Just based on the chapters I'm editing right now, my sentence structuring, timing, and flow are much better now than they were.

21) what do you think when you read over your older work? *cough* I did my reread and was mildly horrified I'd sent that out to people (betas) to read. Also, holy hell, I've improved so much.

It's hard not to compare to where I'm at now, especially since it hasn't been that long since I finished (my older work consists of a novel I finished in june of last year lol)

[chosok-amo]

SLIPPING THROUGH MY FINGERS: GOJO SATORU, GETO SUGURU

“suguru, help!” he sounds, pathetic. gojo satoru is a pathetic man when it comes to you. “ . . . there are so many kisses to have, soul and bone for you to crash and swear that how stars are born, so please. . ., believe me, you have to believe me,” he cries, holding your hands, begging for you to love him— love him enough to stay.

warning : age-up! satosugu, depressed! fem x reader, drug mention, trauma mention, suicide, self-harm, death mention, drowning, blood, heavy angst.

w/c : 6,2k | [☆] MASTERLIST

𝜗𝜚 . . . . i had to stop so often writing this because i can't stop crying and think that i shouldn't continue because it hurts me so bad that i have to take a cold shower and think about my life. and honestly, i wasn't supposed to write the last part but yeah..

A MINUTES AFTER YOU TRY TO KILL YOURSELF

it was too quiet. . .

gojo satoru never screams so loud in his entire life, so loud. . . the world shaking beneath his feet, ready to swallow him whole and rotten. so loud . . . he sure he can no longer hear. he ran, slipping on his way until he broke his knee on the puddle of the red, transparent liquid that spill from the bath-up.

the starling sigh, you were there. . .

“no, no, no, baby— no.”

the water, tinged with a haunting crimson, surged and overflowed, cascading into the bathroom with relentless force. it climbed steadily up gojo's legs, as if the liquid itself sought to ensnare him, to drag him down into its suffocating embrace, or just. . . mock him.

a dark mockery that seemed to whisper that it alone held the power to drown him, to swallow your trembling breaths and the last echoes of your voice. it wasn’t him, or geto suguru who was to be your executioner, but the merciless water, eager to claim your final, stutter breath.

“i-i —sorry, i’m sorry..” you stammered.

your voice stammered between choke, barely a murmur beneath the frothy waves, struggled to be heard amidst the tumult. your eyes, devoid of warmth, reflected a chilling detachment. the coldness in your gaze was almost tangible, a stark contrast to the chaotic, drowning world around you.

“suguru, help!” he sounds, pathetic.

gojo, even on the verge of your death is still so gentle, as if he's afraid you are going to die than you already are. dropping on his knees as he tries to pull your warm bodies out of the bath-up.

gojo shook his head, a soft whisper escaping from his trembling lips, “shhh, it's alright baby, it's alright, you're alright,” his mumble, each word a fragile promise against the storm of his own emotions— words and voice shaking, his bones and soul shivering. his strong arm wraps around your body, pulling you closer to his chest, feeling everything, even as his flesh trembling.

tears cascaded from the corner of your eyes, tracing silken paths down your skin, while his embrace, though trembling, sought to cradle and calm you, a sanctuary against the turbulence of your anguish.

“suguru, please help!” again, this time he shouted.

geto runs upon hearing the horror howling, and his purple irises about to peel from his face and his lungs lose air— ragged gasps, as if each inhale were stolen from him. the scene before him struck with a painful clarity: you nestled within gojo’s embrace, your body wracked with distress.

foaming at the mouth, you appeared trapped in a tormenting grip of anguish, while the open scars on your wrist bled stories of suffering and desperation. in that moment, the sight was both heart-wrenching and surreal, a vivid tableau of fear and pain, painted across the canvas of his deepest fears.

“i'm sorry— i-i'm so sorry,” you whisper between choking gasps as geto kneels beside you and your body shaking. tears cascade uncontrollably, each dropping a shimmering testament to a sudden, overwhelming regret. it is as though a profound realization has swept over you, too late to mend the wounds that have been inflicted.

the regret feels like a bitter aftertaste of the sorrow you can no longer escape. the eyes of those around you, trembling with the weight of their own anguish, are bloodshot and haunting, mirroring the crimson that flows from your wrist. in that agonizing moment, the world feels irrevocably broken, and the fleeting desire to be alive seems like a distant, unreachable dream.

they burst from the bathroom, gojo's arms wrapped tightly around you as he dashes through the chaos. your lifeless feet and hands dangle, a heavy, haunting reminder of the blood seeping steadily onto the floor. each drop forms a macabre trail, like the relentless shadow of death that clings to you, a grim companion refusing to let go.

the crimson stains splatter and pool in your wake, an anguished testament to the finality that now seems inevitable— each red stain on the ground is a haunting reminder, a stark declaration. as they run, the blood's mournful descent weaves a sorrowful narrative of moments slipping away, each drop a poignant echo of what might have been, a stark and unyielding declaration that time has run out, that it is too late.

and suddenly, everything feels like a slow motion.

6 HOUR AFTER YOU TRY TO KILL YOURSELF

the doctor spoke with a grave tone, his words laced with concern. “it appears,” he began, looking at gojo who's just sitting there with his eyes focusing on the floor, meanwhile geto standing beside him. “that she intentionally tried to overdose. we've had to act swiftly to pump the substances from her body, working to counteract the severe effects of her actions.”

geto's hand gently gripping on gojo's shoulder as they listen. his expression was one of solemn seriousness, reflecting the urgency and gravity of the situation. “we've done everything we can to stabilize her, but it's crucial that you two understand the seriousness of what she has done. this was a life-threatening situation, and we're only beginning to address the underlying issues that led to this crisis.”

the doctor continued, his voice carrying a mix of relief and concern. “fortunately, the cut on her wrist wasn't too deep,” he said, his eyes scanning the notes before them. “it seems that the severity of the injury was somewhat mitigated by her weakened state from the drugs. if she had been stronger, the outcome might have been different.”

his tone softened, acknowledging the fragile balance between the danger of the overdose and the mitigating effects of your physical condition. “we've managed to address the immediate threats, but it's crucial to understand that this is a serious wake-up call. we need to work on her recovery and the emotional struggles that led to this moment.”

if she had been stronger, the outcome might have been different,’ the words echoed repeatedly, hauntingly through the air, like a broken record stuck on a painful refrain. once, twice, three times, they reverberated through their minds, each repetition a stark reminder of how close they came to losing you, how dangerously close the edge of despair was.

even the notion of ‘almost’ carried a weight too immense to bear, a heavy presence that pressed down on their hearts. the silence that followed was thick with unspoken guilt and anguish; none of them could find the words to bridge the chasm of their shared grief. they avoided each other's gaze, unable to escape the silent blame that hung heavy between them, a suffocating testament to their collective sense of failure.

gojo stared at his hands through the thin veil of his blindfold, his fingers trembling as they traced the dried blood staining his pale skin. the sight of it was a brutal reminder of you. with a strained effort, he clenched his hands tightly, hoping to meld the dried blood with his own, as if to erase the haunting evidence of what had transpired— his last hope trying to be with you.

each breath felt like a desperate gasp, a small gap forming between his lips as he struggled to draw in air. the sensation of suffocation gripped him, a relentless pressure squeezing his chest, making each inhale a battle. despite his efforts, the air seemed insufficient, leaving him feeling as though he were on the precipice of life, teetering on the brink of an abyss that threatened to swallow him whole.

geto felt an overwhelming tide of guilt and anguish, a heavy weight pressing down on his heart. the scene that unfolded before him replayed in his mind like a relentless, agonizing loop, hunting him down like he is some kind of a fucking prey. he was haunted by the sight of your suffering, the image of your blood-streaked hands and the anguished cries that pierced the air. each moment of his own reflection, seeing the remnants of your blood on his skin and his white shirt, deepened his torment.

the sense of responsibility gnawed at him, a constant reminder of how close he came to losing you. he felt suffocated by a profound sorrow and helplessness, as if the very air around him was too thick, leaving him gasping for breath— like the death itself pointing its ugly fucking finger to his face and laugh at him, at them.

what a fucking pathetic man’ the death must be said.

the weight of the situation settled heavily on his shoulders, and the silence between him and his companions only amplified his inner turmoil. the unspoken blame and the aching realization that he couldn't undo what had happened created a chasm of despair within him, making each moment feel like an eternity of unbearable remorse.

both of them are buried in profound sea of grief, guilt, shame because a thousand moments with you that they take for granted— shame, for thinking, assume that there would be a thousand more. is it too selfish to be here?’ they thought.

that curse must be laughing at them, the higher-ups, everyone— pointing their finger from all directions. look at them, ’ they thought, those two who called themselves the strongest can even save a single soul,’ again they must be laughing, let alone a soul who is to be called the love of their life.

but nobody knows, none, not even a single soul that, oh, how your presence evokes such selflessness in them— even amid their silent, tormented reflections. they are consumed by an incessant questioning of the selfishness of their own sorrow, wondering if it is wrong to cling to their grief while you teeter on the precipice of loss.

the haunting thought persists, a cruel reminder of time's fragile nature and the profound depth of their remorse. in their heartache, they are acutely aware of the contrast between their own suffering and the delicate balance of your existence, each moment of their anguish a poignant testament to the sorrow they feel for having taken so much for granted.

is it okay to feel sad? ’ they thought.

even the very sensation of sadness and grief feels like an indulgence they do not deserve. i can't even protect her, what rights do i fucking deserve to be sad?’ they thought. to them, these emotions seem an opulent luxury, an extravagant gift they are not entitled to. in their hearts, the depth of their sorrow feels almost excessive, a poignant reminder of how their suffering pales in comparison to the magnitude of the almost loss they face.

each wave of grief feels like a grand, unwelcome opulence, an unjust reward for the pain they have caused and the moments they have squandered. the luxury of their sadness seems a cruel irony, a stark contrast to the profound emptiness of the reality they must now confront.

people passing by in front of them, throwing them a glance or two. seeing their red eyes and tears-stain cheeks, blood in their hands, in shirts, in pants, in their soul, laid bare. everyone wants to give them both a pat on the back, telling them that they are good at handling grief; howling, crying, and blaming each other. that's the proper way to handle grief.

18 HOUR AFTER YOU TRY TO KILL YOURSELF

your hands are warm, a stark contrast to the pallor of your pink lips, which have lost their vibrant hue, your eyes open still so retain their gentle softness, a quiet testament to the grace you still hold.

as you lie upon the hospital bed, draped in the drab, floral-patterned gown that clings to you, it feels woefully inadequate. the gown, mundane and worn, seems too insipid and shabby to encompass your beauty, too faded and forlorn.

“i'm sorry. . .” you mumble.

you can’t bring yourself to look at them as they sit beside your bed, their eyes red and swollen from sleepless nights, their uniforms crumpled and disheveled, their hair falling in untamed disarray. their faces have lost their vibrant hue, a stark contrast to their usual vitality.

gojo satoru’s once-brilliant blue eyes, which used to shimmer with an unyielding light, now seem dull and lifeless, even when the golden sunlight spills over them. the sunlight, which once might have enhanced the beauty of his gaze with its warm orange tones, now only serves to highlight the emptiness that has replaced his once-sparkling eyes— it's dull, it's dull, it is fucking dull.

geto suguru's strikingly handsome face is graced with a smile, tender and achingly gentle, as though he is pouring all his effort into offering you a sliver of solace. his lips tremble with a subtle quiver, betraying the deep sadness that lingers beneath his calm exterior. his once-vibrant purple irises have dimmed, their former brilliance faded to a shadow of their former selves.

you fear that they might darken further, losing their hue altogether, slipping into a void of despair where even color seems to vanish. the sight of his sorrowful eyes, so devoid of their usual spark, reflects a profound sadness that pierces the heart, a silent testament to the emotional toll of the moment.

oh, what i have done. . .’ you thought.

“don't, please don't,” gojo pleads, his voice trembling as he clasps your unharmed hand with a desperate grip. his blindfold has been removed, revealing eyes that are filled with raw, unfiltered emotion as he gazes at you. beside him, geto's hand rests gently at the back of your head, his touch tender and soothing. he caresses your hair with a featherlight motion, his thumb brushing softly over your scalp.

“we are so sorry for taking you for granted,” he murmurs, the words heavy with regret and sorrow. “we are sorry for offering you only a lukewarm love, when you deserved a love that was fierce and all-consuming, a love that burned brightly and fiercely. i'm sorry,” his voice wavers, each word an echo of their deep remorse, as they both grapple with the weight of their unspoken apologies and the profound realization of what they failed to give you.

they do not seek to question why your soul bleeds, nor do they dare to unravel the dark tapestry of your pain. the blood, flowing with a steady, silent, and disturbingly deliberate pace, engulfs you in its relentless embrace. it seeps into every corner of your being, a somber tide that threatens to consume you entirely.

they find themselves unable to confront this harrowing reality, their hearts too burdened to bear the weight of such a painful inquiry. the sight of your suffering leaves them paralyzed, unable to utter the questions that linger in their minds, as they grapple with the profound helplessness of watching you slowly succumb to the encroaching shadows.

“i love you, baby,” gojo whispers, “i'm sorry that you're in so much pain so to think death is the only salvation,” he stopped for a second, cocooning your hand with his large one before resting his cheek against. “i'm sorry i didn't notice your rage for the world and too busy loving you. does my love scare you, love? that's why you decided to leave, hm?” his voice shaking, lips quivering.

“if you are angry, stab me a little so you can feel better, make it hurt, i don't care. a little suffering would be worth it if it's by your hands, by your pretty little hands,” he murmured against your skin, his breath a warm whisper that sent shivers across your body. each word was a soft plea, wrapped in a tone that trembled with both desperation and tenderness.

his trembling lips pressed gently against your hand, each kissing a fleeting starburst of warmth against your cool skin. him— no they, stood ready to endure your pain, inviting you to inflict upon them the hurt you felt.

they stand poised to let you sink your teeth into them, to delve into their very flesh. to let you open them up, laid bare and vulnerable, just to offer you a chance to heal. just so they can love you a little too much, starving even— like a flesh begging to be knitting together over a wound. ruin me, ruin us, and we will let you.

“i love you, i love you, i love you,” he gave you stars in each between. they fucking love you like a rotten dog. “believe me when i said this. . . there are so many kisses to have, soul and bone for you to crash and swear that how stars are born, so please. . ., believe me, you have to believe me,” he cries, holding your hands, begging for you to love him— love him enough to stay, “we love you.”

he finally said we’ geto thought.

at first glance, people might assume that geto suguru’s love for you surpasses that of gojo satoru, that his love is somehow greater. yet, the truth remains that it has always been gojo satoru who harbors the most profound and boundless love for you from the very beginning. his love is vast, immense, and utterly astonishing, stretching beyond the horizons of understanding.

gojo’s devotion is a vast expanse, a love so deep and wide that it seems to defy the very limits of emotion. even geto suguru, who himself is capable of immense love, finds himself awestruck and somewhat intimidated by the sheer magnitude of gojo’s feelings. no one can truly grasp the depth of gojo’s love—not even gojo himself—such is the overwhelming, almost incomprehensible nature of his heart’s boundless devotion to you.

and sometimes it scares the shit out of geto.

but maybe, just maybe, they have a little too much love for you more than for each other, even more than for themselves— as if you make a space in their ribs, and call it home country.

30 HOUR AFTER YOU TRY TO KILL YOURSELF

geto stirred from a restless sleep, his head resting gently against your hospital bed, nestled close to your side. as he slowly opened his eyes, he was met with the soft, gentle sight of you gazing at him, a faint, tender smile gracing your lips. the serene moment, bathed in the quiet of the hospital room, brought a flicker of warmth to his weary heart, a small but profound comfort amid the lingering shadows of their shared sorrow.

“hey sunshine,” geto whispered in a hoarse croak, reaching a hand to brush your hair away from your face, “how long have you been awake?”

“long enough to notice the dark circles under your eyes and the tear stains on your cheeks,” you replied softly, your fingers brushing gently against his cheek, your thumb tenderly caressing the worn skin. geto hummed, his hand capturing yours and guiding your palm to his lips, where he planted a gentle kiss.

the touch of your skin was like a salve, soothing the ache in his weary soul. he chuckled weakly. his eyes were tired and his skin pale, but your touch made him feel alive. “you’re too observant for your own good,” he teased, his lips curving into a weary smile.

geto shifted in his chair, wincing slightly as his body protested the movement. he settled into a more comfortable position, still holding your hand in his, his thumb tracing soothing circles on the back of your knuckles.

he studied your face, taking in every detail, from the delicate flutter of your eyelashes to the subtle flush in your cheeks. the sight of you, even in this vulnerable state, filled his heart with a mixture of tenderness and protectiveness.

“how are you feeling?” he asked, his voice low and gentle, his gaze fixed on your face. he knew it was a question he had asked before, but he couldn’t help himself. he needed to hear you speak, hear your voice, just to reassure himself that you were still with him.

“like shit,” you answer.

your hand is still gently cupping his cheek, thumb running low across his skin in a loving manner. at your blunt response, geto's lip curled into a soft smile. even in your weakened state, you still had a defiant spark.

he leaned into your touch, his eyes closing briefly as he savored the sensation. “i thought we agreed no profanity,” he teased, his voice laced with affectionate humor, opening his eyes to meet your gaze. he turned his head slightly, his lips brushing against the palm of your hand in a tender kiss.

“you’ve always been a bad influence on me,” he murmured against your skin, his breath warm and ticklish. he chuckled softly, his eyes softening as he studied your face.

he took a moment to compose his words, his expression growing serious. “there was a moment,” he began, his voice a hoarse whisper, “a moment when i thought i lost you.”

your smile faltered, and your eyes softened with concern as you listened to the gravity in his voice. you reached up to gently touch his cheek again, your thumb brushing away the remnants of his sadness.

“i’m here now,” you whispered, your voice steady but filled with warmth. “you haven’t lost me.” you looked deeply into his eyes, trying to convey with your gaze the depth of your presence and the promise of your unwavering support. “and i’m not going anywhere,” you added softly, hoping to soothe the lingering fear in his heart.

his hand covers yours, holding it against his cheek as he closes his eyes, relishing in your soothing touch. for a moment, he just allows himself to bask in your presence, letting the warmth and comfort wash over him.

“i was afraid i wouldn’t get to hear you say that,” he murmured, his voice growing thicker with emotion. he opened his eyes, the raw vulnerability in his gaze bared to you, his heart laid bare.

your heart ached at the sight of his vulnerability. you gently squeezed his hand, your voice trembling with sincerity as you spoke. “i’m so sorry,” you said softly, your eyes filled with compassion.

geto’s thumb traced gentle, small circles on the back of your hand. “you have nothing to apologize for,” he assured you, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. “it was my responsibility to keep you safe, and i failed.”

the guilt and regret in his voice were palpable, the weight of his self-imposed responsibility clear. he lowered his gaze, wrestling with emotions that were etched deeply into every line of his weary face.

he lifted your hand from his cheek, bringing it to his lips and pressing a lingering kiss against your knuckles, his gaze never leaving yours. “i just need you to know how much you mean to me,” he added, his voice cracking slightly. his grip on your hand tightened, as if he was holding onto you for dear life.

geto’s lips continued to brush against your knuckles as he spoke, soft and gentle. his eyes held yours captive, the depth of his affection bared for you to see.

“you are my everything,” he confessed, his voice hoarse with the weight of his honesty. “the thought of losing you, of living in a world where you don’t exist…” he trailed off, a pained expression crossing his features. he was torn between the love that engulfed his heart and the fear that threatened to consume him.

geto drew in a shaky breath, composing himself as best he could. he lifted his gaze from your hand, meeting your eyes once again. his expression held a mixture of love and devotion, but also a hint of desperation.

“i need you to know that no matter what, i will do everything in my power to protect you,” he vowed, his voice steady despite the turbulent emotions raging within him. “not just because it’s my duty, but because i love you more than i thought it was possible to love someone.”

you met his gaze with a warm, reassuring smile, the depth of your gratitude shining through. “thank you,” you said softly, your voice imbued with genuine appreciation. your smile was a reflection of the profound comfort and reassurance you felt, a silent promise to stand together through whatever lay ahead.

geto’s eyes softened at your smile, a flicker of relief passing over his weary face. he squeezed your hand gently, his touch both appreciative and protective.

he studied your face for a moment, his gaze lingering on each contour, each freckle and line, as if to further commit them to memory. “don’t scare me like that again,” he murmured, mostly in jest, but with an underlying current of seriousness.

gojo entered the room, his expression a mix of relief and lingering concern as he carried a bag of your belongings. upon seeing the tender moment between you and geto, his eyes softened, though they carried a hint of the exhaustion and worry that had shadowed him. he set the bag down and approached, took a sit at the edge on the other side of your bed, his voice catching slightly as he spoke.

“don’t scare me like that again too,” he said, his tone gentle but tinged with the weight of his emotions. his gaze met yours with a blend of earnestness and relief. “i know suguru’s been holding on tight, but i’ve been right here, too. seeing you like this... it’s been hard on all of us. please, don't leave us.” his words were a heartfelt plea, an echo of the concern and love he carried for you, a testament to the depth of his feelings and the strength of his devotion.

geto’s grip on your hand tightened momentarily at the sound of gojo’s voice, his eyes darting towards his best friend. he could hear the exhaustion and worry that laced gojo’s words and knew all-too-well the weight of the responsibility they shared.

he turned his gaze back to you, his expression a mix of worry and relief. his thumb resumed its gentle, soothing circles on the back of your hand. “yeah,” he said in agreement, his voice gruff with emotion. “please, don’t scare us like that again.”

gojo’s presence brought with it a sense of familiarity, a comfort that was both grounding and reassuring. he reached out and placed a gentle hand on your arm, his touch a silent expression of his affection and concern.

he studied your face, his eyes tracing every contour, every line, as if to commit the sight to memory. “how are you feeling?” he asked, his voice softer now, though still tinged with worry. “i wanna say like shit but suguru said no profanity,” you puff a little chuckle.

geto gives a little scoff at your comment, his expression laced with a mixture of annoyance and affection. he rolls his eyes playfully and mutters, “you’re such a bad influence.”

gojo’s lips curled into a small smirk before he turned his gaze back to you, the lines around his eyes creasing with a mix of amusement and relief. “can’t have you talking like that,” he teased, his words light but carrying a hint of genuine concern.

gojo studying your face carefully before speaking ever so softly, “well, apart from the obviously crappy mood geto’s been in, you look good. your color is better.” he noticed a faint crimson crushed on your cheeks, a little pink on your lips.

he reached his hand out to smooth a strand of hair away from your forehead, his touch light and tender. his gaze wandered from your face to where geto still held your hand, his eyes reflecting a subtle hint of appreciation.

geto watched gojo's gentle touch, his grip on your hand unconsciously tightening a little bit in response. his expression was a mixture of protectiveness and vulnerability, his eyes betraying the fear and worry that still tugged at his heart.

he took the moment to observe the soft interplay of emotions between you and gojo, the easy familiarity and the deep bond that existed between you all. he could sense the weight of gojo's concern as he studied your face, the care and attention in his touch.

gojo's voice was soft as he continued, his gaze still fixed on your face. “so, how are you feeling, for real?” he asked, his tone a gentle echo of geto's earlier question. “any pain? any discomfort?”

geto looked at you, his eyes silently pleading for you to be honest. he was hanging off your every word, each response a small insight into your well-being.

you took a deep breath, feeling the weight of their concern pressing down on you. meeting gojo’s gentle gaze and then turning to geto’s silent plea, you spoke with a mixture of remorse and honesty. “i’m sorry,” you began, your voice trembling slightly. “i’m sorry for how i handled things. i know i should have talked to you both, but i didn’t—i tried to take matters into my own hands without thinking it through first.”

your eyes reflected a deep sense of shame and regret as you continued. “i actually feel like absolute shit right now, and i’m ashamed of myself for thinking i could find a quick solution without considering the impact it would have on you both.” you looked at them, hoping your words conveyed the depth of your remorse and the sincerity of your apology, wanting them to understand that your actions were not a reflection of your feelings for them, but rather a moment of misguided desperation.

gojo's expression softened with understanding, his eyes filled with compassion. he knew the weight of your words, the regret and shame that clung to them. he reached his hand back to your arm, his touch gentle and reassuring.

geto's gaze was a mix of surprise and relief as he processed your apology. his hand around yours tightened slightly, his thumb tracing reassuring circles on your skin. “it's okay,” he said, his voice hoarse with emotion. “we all have moments of weakness. what matters is that you're here, safe and alive.”

you felt a wave of gratitude wash over you at their responses, their understanding and compassion a balm to your wounded spirit. “thank you,” you said softly, your voice thick with emotion. “thank you for not being angry with me and for not questioning me right away. i know i made a terrible mistake, and i’m grateful you’re here, supporting me instead of condemning me.”

geto's grip on your hand tightened slightly, his eyes filled with a complex mixture of emotions— relief, love, and a hint of lingering fear. he shook his head gently, a reassuring smile on his lips.

gojo chuckled softly, his eyes filled with a mixture of compassion and playfulness. “we can save the anger and lecturing for when you’re not looking so terrible,” he joked, a wry smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “and trust me, baby, i had a lot of choice colorful words for you when the right time comes,” he lean in to kiss your forehead, “but right now, we just trying to be here for you.”

geto nodded in agreement, his grip on your hand still tight. he couldn’t help but roll his eyes a bit at gojo's playfulness, but there was a hint of fondness beneath the feigned annoyance.

he leaned in, reaching out with his other hand to gently brush a strand of hair off your forehead. “you are a stubborn, reckless, and stubborn pain in the ass,” he scolded lightly, his tone a soft but affectionate mix.

gojo chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners with humor. he settled himself closer, his hand still resting lightly on your arm. “he's right, you know,” he chimed in, his smile wide. “you're very good at pushing our buttons and getting under our skin.”

geto's lips curled into a small smile, his expression a mixture of feigned anger and affection. “and you're even better at making us worry,” he added, his tone light but underlined with the gravity of their concern. “but we care about you more than anything,” he added, his gaze softening as he looked at you. “so you better not do something like that again, you hear me?” his voice held a hint of authority, but mostly it was filled with love and concern.

geto's smile grew a bit wider, his eyes crinkling endearingly at the corners. “yeah,” he said, his voice firm. “you better listen. we don’t need anymore of these near-death experiences from you.”

gojo chimed in enthusiastically, leaning in a bit closer. “yeah, cause let me tell you, i can’t handle any more gray hairs than i already have.”

geto's grip on your hand tightened again, his expression a mix of sternness and vulnerability. he looked at you intently, his gaze locking with yours. “he's right,” he echoed, his voice firm but filled with warmth and care. “no more reckless decisions. no more putting yourself in danger. you hear us, my love?”

gojo nodded in agreement, his expression serious but eyes softened with concern. he added, “yeah, we can't keep having our hearts in our throats like this. it's not good for our health, you know.” geto's hand caressed your arm gently, a silent plea for your understanding. “we just want you safe and sound. that’s all we ask.”

a hint of vulnerability flashed across geto's face, his expression betraying the weight of his words. he locked eyes with you, his gaze filled with a mixture of pleading and sincerity.

“we just want to know that you're safe,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “that you're not recklessly endangering yourself anymore.”

gojo leaned in closer, his hand resting on your arm lightly. “we can't bear the thought of something happening to you again,” he chimed in, his tone carrying an undercurrent of worry.

they continued to exchange tender words and earnest pleas, their voices overlapping in a chorus of concern and affection. each spoke fervently about their love and the lengths they would go to ensure your safety and happiness. their words, though filled with their own fears and frustrations, were underscored by a deep, unwavering care for you.

as you watched them, a soft smile touched your lips. their earnest devotion, their refusal to let you face this alone, filled you with a profound sense of comfort and gratitude. you could see their love in every gesture and hear it in every word, and it warmed your heart. despite the gravity of the situation, their caring presence made you feel cherished and supported, giving you strength even in the midst of your own turmoil.

after a few moments of their heartfelt declarations, the room fell into a short silence, the weight of their words lingering in the air.

gojo ran a hand through his hair, a gesture of nervous energy. “and just so you know, suguru here basically took a week off work to sit by your bedside like a damn watchdog, he even almost made the rainbow dragon eat gakuganji because that fucker won't let him leave.” geto, caught off guard by the sudden revelation, flushed faintly and shot a glare at gojo.

geto, taken aback, shot a sharp look at gojo before retort, “you clearly about to hollow purple the higher-ups and the entire school because they won't let you stay here with her.” gojo's expression darkened for a moment, “you know i would do it in a heartbeat, if i could.” geto's grip on your hand tightened, his gaze still fixed on gojo. “i know you would. and i'd be right there with you.”

gojo and geto turned their attention back to you when they heard your soft chuckling, their expressions a mix of relief and amusement at hearing you laugh.

gojo chuckled as well, “you find that funny, huh?” he said, a smile tugging at his lips. geto rolled his eyes a bit, but his own smile betrayed his true feelings. he couldn't stay serious when you laughed. “just the thought of us going rogue and taking down the entire school system for you is amusing, i guess,” he said, his tone laced with sarcasm.

you hummed in satisfaction, “they are shit anyway.” a gentle smile lingering on your pale lips.

gojo chuckled warmly, his eyes sparkling at your comment. “ah, and there’s that signature wit of yours coming back.”

geto, still feigning annoyance but struggling to hide a grin, shook his head slightly. “still as blunt and unfiltered as ever,” he said, his eyes soft.

you glances at both of them, the comforting silence lingering between you, and with a tender smile, you mouthed softly, “i love you.” your cheeks flushed a delicate crimson beneath your pale complexion as you kissed their cheek.

gojo and geto exchanged a brief glance at your sweet words and soft kisses, their hearts swelling with warmth and love. gojo's hand reached out to stroke your hair, his touch gentle and loving. “we love you too,” he said softly.

geto's smile widened as he placed a gentle kiss on your forehead. “always,” he breathed, his voice filled with tenderness.

the thought of you coming back to them is warm.

TAGLIST :

@junni-berry @fortunatelyfurrygiver @soraya-daydreams @diorzs @dancing--devils @iloveboysinred @bounie1 @nina3871 @ohnotheusernameisbroken

[loganlermanstanaccount]

Hello! Could you please write a stubborn, jealous hc for Miguel o'hara? Thank you!!

I had the brainworms, so I hope this is what you were looking for! Thanks for the ask <3

Jealous!Miguel O'Hara Headcanons

(AO3 Mirror), Main Masterlist

pairing: jealous!Miguel O'Hara x reader

summary: stubborn HCs for jealous!Miguel O'Hara. 

a/n: this was meant to be a drabble and i basically wrote a full fic. i have zero self control lmfao

warnings: smut (fingering, f receiving oral, slight brat taming, etc) right at the very end, 18+ from then onwards, the rest is more pg-13

wc: 3.5k ish

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

Long story short: he's a stubborn little shit.

Pig-headed as fuck and it shows up in little things. 

Let's say you first met as coworkers, and you were a lab technician at Alchemax. 

Think: unstoppable force meets immovable object. He likes his labs just so, with very specific equipment in a very specific configuration. 

It drives you crazy, regularly having tiffs outside the labs; much to the chagrin of your coworkers. 

"Jesus." Your coworker mutters, wincing at the seemingly heated argument by the water cooler. 

"Ignore it, Maeve." Another coworker rolls their eyes, nudging Mave with a snort. "They're at it again . S'pose they'll tire each other out by the end of the day."

Not that they were wrong. But this time, it wasn't your fault: dealing with O'Hara's bullshit had really taken it's toll. He was insufferable, prone to nitpicking and just plain mean. You could hardly be blamed if you gave him some of your own choice words. 

"My notes were basically paint-by-fucking-numbers!  How could you mess up a simple distillation? When I specify precision glassware , you don't think that's fucking important?" 

"Your notes ," You draw air quotes pointedly at him. "-are illegible, you fucking cretin! Maybe if you didn't write like a goddamn pre-schooler-"

"- preschooler? Oh , fuck you!" 

"Get your nose out of that highschool Chem textbook, O'Hara, this is a fucking job."

"Yeah? Stop using it to wipe your ass and you might learn a thing or two."

"Oh , so that's what we're doing?" You laugh in his face, so angry your hand curls into tight fists. You get close, staring him down as you look upwards through your lashes. His own face is contorted into a grimace; bushy eyebrows furrowed into deep shadows around his eyes. You can feel his steady breathing before he speaks, low and rumbling. 

"I could do this all day, princesa. " 

You scoff, ignoring the way his words weaken your knees. The one time you asked for a break during a long lab and he won't stop calling you a spoilt princess. His laughter then stings in your ears now, the ghost of a smirk on his face as you storm off. Miguel O'Hara: smug bastard. He would be the death of you, you're sure. 

~~~

You spend many a late night with him, unwittingly, and find out he's more than a stubborn little shit. 

You find out he's funny, and shares the same anti-Alchemax tendencies you do: both preyed upon by the company immediately after graduation, young and naive. 

He's kind, even though he'd never admit it, often finishing up the lab notes and doing more than his fair share of work so you can go home at a reasonable time. 

You both still butt heads, but it turns into a tentative friendship - coffees in the morning hidden as blaise convenience, covering for each other at work, and defending the other when office gossip goes too far. 

That's why when he comes back to work after a week-long stint away - something about a blow up with the boss, an issue described as 'miscommunication, promptly smoothed over' by anyone official - you notice… something's different about him. 

You first noticed something was off when he walked in without a snide remark. You left a mug overnight at the counter, something that would usually draw a sarcastic comment at the least , but he gives you… nothing. Blank, glassy eyes as he opens up his workstation - clicking away at the keys without so much as a glance.

"O'Hara?" You call, but he doesn't even look up. You walk to his workstation and knock at the desk. He jumps. God, he looks worse for the wear. Heavy bags under his eyes and a bruise blossoming under his collar. 

"You okay?" 

He rubs his temples, eyes flitting up at you.  "Yeah, just…. just a long week, s'all." 

You put a hand on his shoulder, and you swear he leans into your touch. "We can reschedule, tonight. The calculations can wait, Miguel."

He gives you a weak smile, but a smile nevertheless. "S'okay. Need to make sure you don't fuck it up."

"Don't push your luck, O'Hara."

~~~

As you get closer, you notice just how stubborn he is to admit the growing tension between you two. 

Late nights at the lab turn into takeout at your place, morning coffee turns into a pleasant 20 minutes on the rooftop away from the hustle and bustle - just you and Miguel, talking and joking with a cup of shitty coffee in hand. 

Wholly, he seems more assertive at work, not as quick to roll over. 

It's hot, you have to admit; watching him fight with someone else other than you. 

You're at work drinks with the other technicians and engineers, nursing a watery beer when another colleague makes small talk with you at the bar.

You’ve never been that close to him, and the conversation is amicable enough, but you’re almost bowled over when you see Miguel, in the corner, staring straight at you with a stormy look.

You suppose it's a little pathetic, getting all dressed up for a casual drink. Lips shiny with gloss and gently powdered with makeup, you feel a little out of place. For all your talk at work, actually being here was another thing. Suddenly, your blouse is too tight and your skirt too short. With a manicured finger, you trace the lip of your glass filled with watery beer. You sigh. You don't want to admit it, but you were only here because of Miguel. He said he would come, and now you're sitting on a barstool counting the chips in your glass. 

It was probably for the best. You sink into the absentminded chatter of your colleagues around you, until there's a tap at your shoulder. 

"Is someone-" He clears his throat; a tall man dressed in a sharp suit nodding gracefully towards the empty chair. "-is this seat taken?" 

You shake your head, grateful for the company. He's handsome, sharp features curving into a wry grin as he calls for a drink. 

"...and something other than shitty beer for the pretty girl, too." It makes you laugh, light and lilting in the bustle of the bar. 

He stretches out his hand, and you take it. 

"Eddie Crouch. I work in marketing."

Eddie…. as in… head of the most profitable division of Alchemax? Your eyes widen involuntarily and you try to clamp down your immediate shock, somewhat unsuccessfully. He narrows his eyes as you tumble over your words. 

"Y-Yeah, same! I mean, not same , I just work in the l-labs and I thought it was just for us guys, working behind the curtain, y'know? Not that we're not thrilled to have you here, because we a-are." You spill out, wincing. "....Is this about the performance reviews? Because I know output was down this quarter but our projections are-"

"I'm not here to talk about work." He chuckles. You squint, not convinced. As if to alleviate your concerns, he loosens his tie and undoes his top buttons with a flourish. 

"Can I tell you a secret?" He leans in, and the air becomes thick with expensive perfume. He twirls the signet ring on his finger, a ring probably worth more than your monthly paycheck. 

"Your boss invited me," Discreetly, he stretches a finger at your boss; a man ruddy cheeked and red-faced with alcohol. "Guess he thought it would boost morale. He's a fucking idiot if he thinks having me, the one guy that could fire your entire department without recourse, exchange empty platitudes would boost morale. But, I digress. So here I am, dragging my feet to this bar, thinking I'm gonna get in, read the lines and get out. But then, " He pauses with dramatic effect. "I see the most beautiful person I've ever had the pleasure of laying my eyes on, just sitting by the bar. Like everyone isn't already falling over themselves to talk to you."

The irony is palpable. It's sickly sweet, and a line that wouldn't usually work on you. But usually, you weren't pining over a man so prickly and stubborn, you shouldn't have feelings for. Here you were, bright cocktail in front of you and a moderately attractive man by your side. He wasn't quite Miguel, but in the words of one of the greatest thinkers of the past age: country girls make do. 

And so you make lazy conversation with the man. So lost in a tipsy haze, you barely notice Miguel walk in; dark jacket on his shoulders and deliciously loose slacks. You're drawn to him, his eyes seemingly searching the room, and you sigh into your drink. Technically, he looks like shit: eyes dark-rimmed and sunken, a cut at his brow. You think he is gorgeous, eyes tracing the slope of his nose and plush lips. Like he can sense it, he glances over in your direction and you look away hastily. He's watching , you can feel its burn as you turn, pretending to listen to the man besides you. A little cruelly, you lean into him, not breaking eye contact and curling a hand around his arm to laugh at a stupid joke. Eddie laughs with you, oblivious, as you glance behind him. 

Miguel stands with a drink thrust into his hands, looking straight through him, eyes low and gazing at you. 

~~~

He insists on walking you home, a steady hand on the small of your back as you stumble through the streets of Nueva York.

You make light conversation, tipsy and giggly from the alcohol. Miguel seems a little more put together, but his chest still creaks with rumbling laughter.

He definitely walks on the side of the pavement nearest the street, because he thinks it keeps you safer. 

He walks you up the stairs and by the door of your apartment, like a gentleman. You watch him get nervous suddenly, and he hesitates, stubbornly digging in his heels and pausing you from opening the door and coming in. 

You don't want it to end, opting to take the walk up the stairs as opposed to the lift. It's one of your more questionable decisions as you stumble up the stairs, almost tripping over your own feet. Miguel is quick to catch you even though he was just as drunk. Arm around your waist, he leaves searing touches to your hip. You giggle despite yourself, and he can't help but smile at your clumsiness. 

"If you break your legs I won't carry you, princesa ." A lie and you both know it. He would carry you to the ends of the earth like a blushing bride, if you asked him. 

You both stagger to up the stairs and through the corridor until you reach your front door. You rummage around your bag for your keycard, it's contents click-clacking in the quiet of the hallway. Miguel watches, quieter than he was in the journey. If you looked up now, you would see something else behind his eyes - a storm of apprehension and tension. 

You find your keycard, and look up to find Miguel placing a careful palm on the door. He's surprisingly still, eyes on your lips as he steps closer. You look everywhere but to meet his eyes, tracing the curve of his collarbone, the slope of his exposed forearm, and the tempting juncture of his strong jaw. You watch it tense, as he brings a gentle hand to your chin. His thumb swipes over the fat of your lip. 

"Got somethin' right… there." He mumbles, before tucking his hand away. You can barely breathe. Without thinking you take his hand in yours, lacing your fingers together like a gentle hug. You bring his hand to your waist, and he squeezes, ever so gently. Your hand drops and he moves his slowly, knuckles dragging along the smooth silk of your blouse, and then sending shivers when he reaches your bare neck. 

He has to bite down the plethora of things running through his head - his drunken brain threatening to spill all his thoughts. You are so beautiful and soft it makes him short-circuit, desperate to pull you close. Instead, you do: hand inching up his chest and laying to rest on his shoulders. 

He kisses you, finally ; a little messy and impossibly soft. Like his lips on yours would shatter you both. You deepen the kiss and wrap his arm tighter around you, angling your chin to drink up even more of you. You both come up for air, panting in the heat of one another. Miguel's eyes are full of lust and blown out. 

"Do…do you want to come in?" You whisper. 

Something catches in his throat and his expression changes, like he just woke up from a dream. Do you just want to sleep with him? He's not built for one night stands, can't do just sex, especially if it's you. No matter how much he wants to, he can't, he won't, "....I shouldn't."

The disappointment on your face is palpable. You want to ask why - after he kissed you like that - why doesn't he want you? Instead you nod dejectedly. He gives you a chaste kiss on the forehead, lingering, and a shaky smile. 

You open your door with a buzz, and slam it in his face. 

~~~

It takes Miguel some time to properly put a name to what you two have: not knowing if the kiss was a drunken mistake, animal attraction or something more. 

He's not a grand gestures kind of person, he believes in action rather than words. 

Which is why it takes so long for him to admit just how in love with you he is. 

He steals glances at you all the time at the office, and tries to anticipate  all your needs. 

When you stretch and yawn in the morning, he happens to pass by your favourite coffee place and happens to buy one too many cups of your go-to order. 

So imagine his shock when he arrives from his lunch break, churros and coffee in hand, and there's one of the top brass from the night at the bar perched on your desk - 2 polystyrene cupfuls of something half drunk on the desk. 

He's never been insecure, but he can't help but feel possessive, something tense and tight growing at the base of his stomach. 

"What was it you wanted to talk about?" You step into the equipment cupboard, Miguel close behind you. You rub your temples, anticipating an argument. "O'Hara, if this is about my calibration tests this morning, I swear to God -" 

"No, no , nothing like that." He's quick to say. "They were… okay." He strains. 

You raise an eyebrow. Okay? Since when did Miguel pass up an opportunity for a mindless fight? Your mind races with his actions of the past few days. He has been different since the night at the bar, a little nicer, sure, but nothing this out of the ordinary. 

"That guy you were talking to. I saw him at the bar, and now here. Who is he?" 

Your eyebrows shoot up. "You do not have the right to ask me th-" 

"Are you fucking him?" A pause, and you study his expression, deducing that he is completely fucking serious . 

"Are you insane? You definitely don't have the right to ask me that." You make for the door, and he steps in front of it, blocking it with his body. 

"I need to know. Tell me and then I'll leave you alone, I promise." His voice is low and thick with something. 

You step closer and he wraps his hands around your waist absentmindedly. The pressure feels good, and makes your brain fog up. 

He repeats himself, softer. "Are you fucking him?" 

You look at him for a moment, before shaking your head. His facial expression  is steady, just as unreadable. 

"Do you want to?" 

You hesitate, wanting to be cruel and say yes, just to see his reaction. Perceptive, he sees your hesitance and says something that almost knocks you over. 

"I could fuck you better than he ever could," He kneads your thigh now, lips close to the shell of your ear in the tight space of the cupboard. " Princesa , look at me." 

You look at him, almost whimpering and putty in his hands. He's like a siren and you are lost in the pull of his gaze. It may be the proximity, but you swear you see a tinge of red in his eyes, like deep pools of lust. 

"Will you let me fuck you?" He pulls you closer so the meat of his thigh presses against your clothed cunt. Your stretchy pencil skirt rides up suggestively, and you rock your clit against him, searching for sweet pressure. You nod. 

Miguel titters softly, a hand on your chin pulling your lips to his. You moan into his kiss, body aching. It's hot and heavy like the kiss outside your door, but he swirls his tongue around yours and expertly nips at your lower lip. He guides your hips to rock against his thigh, tensing to make sure it's corded muscle hits the right places. He wants to break you apart, leave you so cock-drunk, you wouldn't think of even glancing at another man. 

You separate and he dips a hand under your skirt. He pulls it up and places a big palm at your pussy, with a well timed slap. You bite into his neck with the pressure. You definitely don't expect it when he rips open your stockings like they were paper. 

"Fuck, Miguel." 

"It's okay, baby, I'll get you new ones." Your eyes roll back as he slips aside the gusset to run a finger through your lower lips. Shamelessly, he slips a finger in, then two, basking in the wet squelch of your heat. You claw at his forearm, as he curls them into that sweet spot. 

You press your forehead to his shoulder, chasing his fingers with your hips. His sharp eyes watch every movement, every stutter and start that his fingers pull from you. He's practical, a man of action, and he is desperate to show you how much he cares. 

"I've thought about you… about this." He hisses as you cover your mouth to dampen your moans. 

"Wanted you for so long, princesa. Want to know how you taste, what this beautiful pussy feels like. What you look like when you cum."

His wrist aches with the back and forth motion but his pace barely faulters. 

" M-Miguel …"

He applies pressure to your clit, and watches in awe as you spasm, nails digging into his forearm. 

" Oh, there it is. Right there, hmm? Does that feel good?" 

You nod frantically with a stifled sob. 

"Not quite, baby. Need to hear you say it. Or I won't let you cum."

"...fuuck you."

" Oh, you'd like that. Still not what I want to hear. Tell me how much you like it when I fuck you with my fingers."

"F-Feels good." You stutter. He stops, wrenching his hand out of your pussy to leave you clenching around nothing.You almost scream.

"You're being a brat, not my princesa , hmm? Only good girls get to cum."

" Miguel , please. I'll do anything." He guides you along his thigh, still lodged between your legs, and licks up your wetness on his other hand. "You m-make me feel so good. So good. And I want you so much it hurts, sometimes. I just want to cum, don't even need your cock. Fuck me with something , please." 

"Miguel? Not asshole? Or fucking idiot, this time?" 

"Please, Miguel ." Your pleas go straight to his cock. He throbs with need, cock rock hard under his slacks. 

He relents, not able to bear your dopey puppy-dog eyes for much longer. He slips three fingers in, without bothering to prep you. He hisses at the tightness of your heat, pounding into you and knuckle deep with his fingers. Shamelessly, you fuck yourself back on them, hips rolling over his thigh. He can't tear himself away from the sight, palming himself through tented trousers. 

You kiss and nip at his neck, as he whispers obscenities at you under his breath. 

"Can you cum for me, princesa? Cum f'me, and I'll take care of you, I promise."

You clamp down on his fingers and moan into a kiss as you ride out your orgasm. It's intense: leg-shaking and leaves you shuddering in the aftermath. You were rusty, sure, hadn't had sex with someone in a while. But Miguel made you cum so hard you saw stars, with only his fingers. Your chest heaves with the thought. 

You thought he would leave you, torn stockings and all, in the little cupboard. But he stays, to sink down to his knees and lap at your folds. You rest a hand on a shelf for purchase, head back in bliss. You cunt is still sensitive, throbbing at the orgasm he's just given you, as you licks you clean. He's taking care of you. You card your hands into his hair, tugging gently as he moans into your pussy. 

He gives your clit a gentle kiss, and swipes up a trailing tear that rolls down your inner thigh. You watch as he pops his fingers into your mouth, cleaning off the cum. Your cum. 

Miguel gives you a lazy grin in the bare bulb of the equipment closet. He seems completely unfazed by the fact his fingers were in you not a moment ago. 

"Are you free after work?" He asks, and it takes a moment for you to process. 

"Uhhh… s-sure. Probably?" 

"Let me take you for dinner, somewhere nice."

All you can do is nod, dumbly, ripped stockings still around your ankles. 

"And then I can fuck you properly, princesa." 

_

_

_

[pyrriax]

what if i just waited to post stuff until i've got my current three Ideas written

just post em all back to back and then sleep for a week

[ !! venting in the tags !! ]

[mattybsgroupie]

dress | chris sturniolo

contents: fwb; fingering (f receiving); (slightly) exhibitionism; soft dom!chris

- ♡ -

notes: writing chris was hard at first but i had so much fun! i still have another request for him on the drafts - the weeknd anon i did NOT forget you - but i figured id write this one first to get used to it lmaoo it’s so weird let me get my matt back! which btw gonna post a really long one on their birthday and then imma lock in on the pegging request (sturniolo police don’t kill me) it’s super super short but i hope you enjoy it ♡ tysm for over 1k followers, much much love ♡ it’s NOT proofread — i apologize for any mistakes but hopefully they won’t harm the story.

requested by: my dear funny gorgeous smart friend whom i very much love @thepubeburgler

- ♡ -

i couldn't stop laughing. nick had stumbled upon his feet and fallen flat onto the sofa, not making any effort to get up. amidst all the laughter, my hair got caught up in my hoop earrings, yanking my strands forward. “shit”, i muttered, trying to loosen it with my fingers as i recovered from the hilarious sight in front of me.

after a while trying, i realized i wasn't going to be successful in detangling my hair. i headed for the bathroom, turning myself to the reflection in the mirror and bringing my body near the sink so i could see better.

still listening to the chatter outside, i noticed footsteps approaching. they sounded unconcerned, like someone was dragging their feet until they suddenly stopped behind the door.

i heard three sharp knocks and answered “come in”, bumping into chris leaning on the doorframe. he checked me out from head to toe, not saying a word. instead, he simply entered the restroom and chuckled, watching me struggle with my own earring.

“let me help” he said, pulling up the sleeves of his t-shirt and stepping closer, tucking part of my hair behind my ear and cupping my face with both hands. chris quickly sealed our lips on a playful kiss and started to work in undoing my tangled logs, soon popping my hoop back in. he allowed me turn and check in the mirror if he'd done it the proper way, and i nodded as i admired the sight of us both standing there, in that tiny bathroom. i was wearing a long sleeve, knit sweater dress, stripes accentuating my curves and outlining my hips. chris looked handsome as he always does. he had a yellow bandana tying his long hair back and a necklace enhancing his collarbones. i couldn't help but let out a sigh, receiving a giggle from him in response.

both of us noticed how the atmosphere quickly changed, becoming more tense as chris came closer to me, wrapping his arms around my waist and resting his head on my right shoulder, blue eyes piercing me through the mirror.

“you look so good” he whispered in my ear, dragging his hand on my dress while biting on whatever his lips could reach. he saw my nipples hardening, poking through the thick fabric and with a naughty grin, he squeezed my thighs, running his hand upwards until my sweater was above my hips, exposing my panties to him. 

chris' fingers brushed over my underwear, teasing my waistband. i held my breath as his digits went down, sneaking inside my black panties. watching chris touching me in front of the mirror was almost pornographic, my mouth hanging open while he kept on groping my skin. i slightly opened my legs, spreading my body weight better and giving him more access so he could drag his fingers through my already folds. chris' lips reached my neck and i threw my head back, letting him mark me as much as he wanted.

he wouldn't take his eyes off me. i could feel he had noticed how my breath got heavier, my chest rising as he decided to increase his pace, quickly rubbing my clit. “eyes on the mirror, ma” he muffled in my ear. ”take a look at yourself, how pretty you are”

“chris-” i moaned, struggling to continue looking.

“do something for me yeah?” he asked and i nodded vigorously - i'd do anything if that meant he'd continue touching me.

chris took his finger out of my underwear, making me groan in frustration. he held back a laugh, wrapping his arms around my waist and taking a few steps backwards, carrying me with him. his back was now resting against the wall and he brought one of his hands to the back of my thighs, giving two light taps, asking me to lift it up.

i had now one foot on the floor and the other hanging as he held my thigh up, soon motioning me so i could step on the countertop while he kept me balanced by holding me in his arms and supporting me with his legs. “let go, babe. i'm holding you” he said, noticing my stiff body, unable to relax in that position.

chris's digits ran across my bare skin and soon reached the spot where they had been before, making me gasp. “shh” he shushed me, “just wanna make you feel good, mamas. nobody's getting here babe, relax f'me”.

i took a deep breath and nodded, acknowledging that chris would never do anything i didn't enjoy. he pulled my panties aside, exposing open pussy to both of us in front of the mirror. chris teased my entrance, two digits pressing on my thigh hole as he pretented to thrust all at once, but only massaging the area before going back to my clit, his circular motions causing me to whimper.

one of my hands went behind chris, trying to get a grip of his hair, but my desperation made me end up tugging on his bandana. he groaned in a playful tone as the fabric came down his eyes, messing up his curls and blocking his vision. i finished pulling the bandana off, putting it between my teeth before returning my hand to chris's hair, pulling and begging him to keep going.

his palm left my waist went up to my breasts, groping my tit before he gently returned to my tight hole, slowly pushing his middle finger inside.

“look how well you're taking me, ma” he spoke, turning my attention to how his finger had completely vanished in me, filling me up entirely. as couldn't even moan because of the fabric in my mouth, let alone speak, i jointed my hips forward, indicating to chris that he could start moving. “so eager aren't you?” i nodded in agreement. i needed him to fuck me.

chris began to speed up his movements, the wet sounds of my pussy taking over the small bathroom we were squeezed into. in one of his thrusts, chris added another finger, stretching my walls in a sudden move. i rolled my eyes and opened my mouth, the yellow cloth i was holding with my teeth falling on the floor beneath me. with my lips now uncovered, my whimpers got louder as chris kept on fucking me. he curled his fingers inside of me, hitting my sensitive spot and making my legs tremble. noticing i wouldn't last long, chris tightened his grip on my thigh even more, leaving a mark that would definitely be purple the next day. 

chris shoved his fingers in relentlessly when his thumb met my clit, letting my hips buck forward unconsciously, the friction increasing my pleasure. the knot in my stomach was turning harder to ignore, chris's heavy breathing on my neck made me even hornier while his free hand played with my covered nipples. 

“chris- shit!” i whined “chris let... let me cum, fuck!”

“no one's stopping you mamas” he whispered, moving my hair to the side as my moans became louder and louder. “go ahead. don't be fucking loud, everyone is outside. you want them to know i can get you off this quick?”

i was thrown off the edge when chris pulled me closer and i felt his hardened cock being lazily dragged on my ass. i could feel his boner poking me through the cloth when my orgasm washed over me, my chest panting heavily as chris kept his grip on me, holding my body while i came back from my high.

he allowed me to rest, taking my thigh on his hand and gently letting my foot meet the floor again. chris turned me over, letting me snuggle in his chest as i watched him t bake both fingers to his mouth, licking the mess i'd made. “you're so fucking delicious” he said, pulling out of the hug and bending over to pick up his bandana. he quickly tied his long, brown locks into the yellow fabric and unlocked the door after giving me a kiss on the forehead.

“chris! where are you going?”

“outside...?” he said as if it was obvious when he saw my furrowed eyebrows “i'll tell them i was helping you fix your dress or something” he joked and i rolled my eyes, catching a sigh of my figure on the mirror. i looked ruined.

“you're staying over tonight, right?” chris asked and i nodded as i fixed my hair once again, pulling my dress down and covering the purple marks he had left on my legs. “great, you can pay me back later” he clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth and winked at me, leaving the bathroom and closing the door outside.

- ♡ -

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[thef1diary]

Little Big Fan | Fifteen

— Little Big Aftermath [aka the end]

Series Masterlist

wc: 3k

we’ve made it to the end guys! I just have to say I never thought I’d complete this story and that too fifteen parts of it but to all those who read it and motivated me to keep writing, thank you. While it is the end of the official story, I will continue to take requests for blurbs on specific scenes you’d like to see. However, there won’t be a set posting date on these blurbs, it’ll be out whenever it’s requested and completed. Once again, thank you so much for those who were here since the first chapter, and here’s to more fic series in the future. P.S lemme know if you want to be tagged in the blurbs.

Your frown grew deeper as you turned in the direction your daughter had pointed, unfortunately spotting Tyler. Luckily, he wasn't looking at you two since he was focusing on the podium celebrations about to happen.

"I didn't know daddy was here, mama." Picking Isabella up, you shook your head, "I didn't know either, angel, but let's focus on Max for now okay?"

She gave a nod of agreement and applauded for the drivers, Oscar and Lando in particular, who finished second and third in the race. She did, however, cheer the loudest when Max, as he has done after almost every race this season, stepped onto the top step of the podium.

He was having trouble finding you and Isabella right away in the crowd, and you could see the slightest frown forming on his face until a smile emerged when he succeeded, connecting his gaze with yours.

Isabella giggled as Max held his hand up to wave at her before blowing a kiss in the air in your direction. His behaviour drew Lando and Oscar's attention to you as well, with the former driver rolling his eyes at Max jokingly and Oscar smiling at the interaction.

However, you didn't realize that someone else was also looking at you because your gaze didn't waver away from Max.

The champagne bottles were popped, and this time Isabella was awake to see it all, watching with fascination as it was the first time she was able to see it in person. "I wanna do that, mama," she pointed at the drivers spraying the alcoholic drink, soaking each other's race suits while laughing. "Maybe when you're older, Bella."

"When I'm 7?" She asked, and you chuckled, "a little more than that, sweetheart."

Once the celebrations were over, a huge part of the crowd dispersed, the teams resuming to their usual scheduled routines, preparing for post-race debriefs and other meetings. "Where's Maxy going?" Isabella asked, watching as he was led away by someone clad in a RedBull uniform.

"He's a little busy with interviews, but he told me that he'd come back as soon as he's done," you explained, knowing that Max had a post-race conference and a few other duties lined up.

Isabella huffed, "but he won the race." She rested her head on your shoulder for a moment while playing with a strand of your hair—the habit formed back when she was a few months old.

"Yeah he did, which means he's very famous right now and so many people want to talk to him," you explained and while she nodded in understanding, she still pouted, "I wanna talk to him too."

"Why don't we wait for him inside his driver's room?" You asked, turning around when she nodded.

You had almost reached Max's driver room—a place he had suggested for you and Isabella to stay to wait for him, but pausing in a secluded area as a familiar voice called out, "Isabella!" then heard your name as well. Isabella squirmed in your lap, wanting to get down after seeing Tyler walk up to you both. You sighed, knowing that you'd have to stop and chat.

"Tyler," you greeted, and awkwardness hung in the air for two seconds before Isabella decided to speak up. "Daddy, you said you were busy, what are you doing here?"

Despite her hesitance to stay at her father's place, which she still hasn't done since the day she was discharged from the hospital, she frequently spoke to him over the phone.

Unfortunately for him, Isabella rarely forgets promises. While he was busy playing the "good father" role after your ultimatum, he had make false promises, agreeing to everything she asked for without hearing her out properly. In that conversation, she asked about the promise he made of taking her to a race before she had met Max.

While you and Max had taken her once, she still wanted to experience the thrill with her father since he was the one who introduced the sport to her.

He glanced at you, silently asking if he did in fact claim that he was busy, and frowned when you nodded. "Oh Bella, sweetheart, I didn't know that I would have the time to be here, it was an unexpected decision or else I would've brought you along, but you're here anyways!" He tried to uplift her mood, but instead of hanging on to every word he spoke like she used to do, she just shrugged.

Deciding to divert the topic of conversation, Tyler asked, "did you enjoy the race?" He stepped forward, kneeling down to be closer to her but on instinct, Isabella moved away, clutching on to your hand tightly.

He frowned, once again glancing up at you after noticing her behaviour, but you didn't let an ounce of emotion show on your face. "I'm so happy Maxy won!" She exclaimed, her mood improving for a moment as she thought about him.

Standing up to his full height, Tyler looked at you, "why don't we sit and chat for a moment?" Pressing your lips together in a tight smile, you replied, "I don't think that's a good idea."

He scoffed, then shrugged, "fine, have it your way like always." You were not in the mood to indulge his stupid comments which would eventually lead to an argument, in fact you were here to enjoy the weekend with your boyfriend who you dearly missed in this moment.

His eyes widened briefly when you didn't respond to his comment, wondering how you changed so much in a matter of a few weeks that you couldn't care less about him anymore.

"Hey Bella, why don't you show daddy the caps that you got?" You prompted another topic, that Isabella quickly agreed to. Tyler's gaze remained on you for a moment, understanding that you truly had no intention on speaking to him longer than necessary. The conversations you did have were only necessary due to your daughter, but even those texts and calls started becoming less and less frequent.

Isabella took off her Red Bull cap, which had autographs from Max and Checo, to expose a Ferrari cap with two more signatures from Charles and Carlos, and then a McLaren cap that undoubtedly featured two signatures from Oscar and Lando. She caught up to Lando and Charles, who had given her their hats earlier, as well as their teammates, to obtain signatures. She then wanted to get autographs on her RedBull cap as well. When she asked Max and Checo, they chuckled with the latter claiming she had them all at her beck and call, but they nevertheless signed the cap.

Isabella ended up stacking all three caps on her head because she couldn't choose which one best matched with her outfit. She began explaining the story behind the signatures, and Tyler intently listened, asking a few questions in between as well.

"And then-" Isabella's gaze wandered off, eyes lighting up in excitement as she spotted, "-Maxy!"

Without any hesitation she ran up to him, colliding with him as she tried to wrap her arms around him, earning a low, "oof" from him.

Picking her up and settling her on his hip, holding her up with one arm, he held up his other hand that had a medal hanging from it. Max placed the medal around Isabella's neck, which he received on the podium earlier along with his trophy. "We won, princess," he commented, smiling as wide as she did.

She held both of her hands up, imitating the action Max did as he held his trophy on the podium, causing him to laugh. You watched the interaction with a smile on your face, and could hear their laughter from a few feet away.

Walking towards you as Max was initially planned on doing, he noticed a man next to you, which based on your descriptions was Tyler. He decided to overlook him for now, instead greeting you with a kiss to your cheek.

Tyler held his hand out, "great race, congratulations on the championship. I'm a huge fan by the way." Max, nodded politely, still holding Isabella in his arms but shaking his hand nonetheless. "Thank you," he prompted, waiting for the man to introduce himself to confirm his suspicions.

"Oh, so you're Tyler." Max glanced at you for a moment, watching as you tried to hide your smile behind your hands because of his antics. "Why do you say it like it's a bad thing?" He questioned, and Max was quick to retort, "well, it's not really the best thing now is it?"

"I don't understand," he trailed off, and your boyfriend shrugged, "I figured you wouldn't understand, it's okay," he patted Tyler's shoulder in faux consolation. You had to take a step back so Tyler wouldn't see your expression, placing a hand over your mouth to muffle your laugh.

Tyler was quick to catch on to the condescending tone Max spoke with, looking at you—after you composed yourself fortunately. "So what, you get invited to one race and you guys are best friends now?" He asked, a hint of jealousy you were familiar with revealed in his tone.

"More like she's my girlfriend and they're here to support me," Max clarified. Tyler looked at Max, then Isabella, finally understanding why she was always so enamoured by him.

He scoffed, "oh great, enjoy my sloppy seconds then mate, I will warn you though, it's not worth it because a few months later she'll show you a positive pregnancy test and force you to be a father."

Your jaw dropped, instantly responding, "in front of my daughter?" You glanced at Isabella who was in fact hearing all the words spoken, only frowning due to yours and Max's expressions as she didn't understand the full context of the words her father had said, just knowing that it wasn't good.

Max wiped his hand over his mouth, jaw clenching while his warm gaze turned cold within seconds. "Apologize, now," he instructed, trying to hold himself back from causing a fight.

"Now why would I do that? It's true." Max placed Isabella back on her feet who quickly shuffled over to you, standing behind your legs. "How dare you stand here claiming to be my fan yet talk shit about the person I love?" The driver placed his hand on Tyler's shoulder again, but this time you could see the fear bubbling up in his eyes as his grip tightened.

Still, Tyler managed to scoff, "love? Bold claims there. Sorry to break it to you but she's probably just with you for your mon-" he couldn't finish his sentence because he was punched square in the jaw by your boyfriend.

"Max!" You shrieked, and watching the interaction, Isabella held on to your hands tightly with tears welling up in her eyes. You picked her up again, noticing that Tyler was fuming in anger. "Gonna fucking sue you for that," he spit out some blood, but Max only shrugged, "try me."

Fortunately, you guys were stood in between the team motorhomes, which meant you were slightly hidden away from public eye due to the buildings covering the scene.

Readying himself for another punch if needed, you shook your head, "it's not worth it, Max."

"Yeah Max, listen to your girlfriend," he taunted, angering you in the process. "Will you ever shut up?" You shot back. Max glanced at Isabella who had hid her face in the crook of your neck, arms wrapped around you. Although he couldn't see her face, he guessed that her eyes were tightly shut.

Nodding as a silent agreement with Max, you decided to walk away from the scene as you didn't want to expose Isabella to any more of this argument than what she has already heard. Glancing at Max once more, you hoped that your expression was indicating something along the lines of, "don't do anything too bad."

However, you could hear Max's words as he began speaking to Tyler, "listen here you little shit..." but you didn't stick around to hear the entire conversation, smiling to yourself knowing that Tyler would finally be put into his place—that too by his favourite driver.

Finally entering his driver's room, you sat down on the couch sighing in relief. Isabella was still in your lap and you ran your hand up and down her back in a soothing motion because you could feel her sniffling against you. "Bella," you murmured, wanting to see her adorable face.

"I'm so sorry you had to see that, sweetheart." You kissed her head before brushing your hand through her hair. You heard her mumble but didn't catch her words, "what was that?"

She lifted her head to look at you, and you frowned seeing the tears staining her cheeks. "Why is daddy so mean? I don't like him."

"Some people are just mean for no reason, and unfortunately, your daddy is one of them," you explained, no longer covering for him knowing that after what Isabella witnessed, she wouldn't want to be near him no matter what you said.

She frowned but didn't respond, leaning her head against your shoulder again. You didn't disturb her peace, knowing that after the eventful day, she needed some quiet time.

Max entered the room a few minutes later, and he smiled to greet you but it fell flat. He pointed at Isabella, then put his thumbs up to silently ask if she was okay, but you shrugged.

"What did you say to him?" You asked, knowing that whatever conversation followed probably wasn't kind. "I told him that I'd ban him from future races if I saw him anywhere near you or Bella, and he left."

You knew that it probably wasn't that easily done, but you didn't ask for more details.

You had thought Isabella fell asleep since she hadn't moved in a while, nor could you see her face, but she lifted her head up to look at Max once she heard some shuffling about in the room.

He paused as soon as his gaze connected with hers, unsure of how to initiate a conversation because he did literally punch her father. Isabella wiggled off your lap, and both you and Max thought that she would walk away further into the room so her next action surprised you both. Running towards Max, she held her arms out, engulfing him in a hug.

"You're better than my dad, Maxy," she muttered, and he audibly sighed, the stress wrinkles on his face disappearing while wrapping his own arms around her smaller frame.

"Thank you, princess," he whispered back, and she pulled back to kiss his cheek. Isabella looked back at you, smiling when she saw you smile as well. "Thank you for taking care of my mama," your daughter told Max, and his heart warmed at her words. "Always."

The ring of your phone interrupted the beautiful sight in front of you, but your eyes widened when you saw that it was your mother calling. As soon as you pick it up, you're greeted by hearing your full name.

"Hi, mum," you stood up and walked further away just in case you were about to get a scolding although you had no idea what you could've possibly done. "Why didn't you tell me?" She asked.

"Tell you what?" You answered with a question of your own, knowing that she could be referring to anything at the moment. "That you have a boyfriend."

Your mouth dropped open, "how do you know that?" She chuckled, "because a friend of mine called me and told me that she just watched you kiss someone on live television, some racer guy."

Covering your mouth with your hand, you thought back to the moment Max kissed you in front of the huge crowd after getting out of his car, and of course there had to be cameras capturing the moment. "Max, he's a Formula 1 driver," you explained.

"Wait, the same Max that Bella talks about?" You hummed, "the same one."

"I'm glad you finally moved on from your daughter's father, but I'm also sad that you didn't tell me sooner and I looked foolish because I didn't know until my friend told me about it."

"I'm sorry, I didn't think my relationship would be broadcasted live. Plus, I think the chapter with Tyler is finally over, for both me and Isabella."

"That's good to hear, she doesn't deserve a father like him. Is Max good to you?"

"He's the best to both of us, she lights up with joy every time she sees him." Your mother hummed as she heard your response, "then me and your father have to meet him one day."

You heard some laughter in the next room where Max and Isabella were, and you smiled at your mother's words, "I hope we can come by soon, I'd love to introduce him to you and dad."

After saying goodbyes and promises to meet soon, you returned to the room Max and Isabella were in, pausing in the doorway at the sight in front of you. Just like how Isabella was sitting in your lap earlier with her head against your shoulder, she did the same to Max.

You were about to make your presence known when you heard your daughter's question. "Maxy, why do you call me princess?"

Max's gaze found yours, always finding you whether you were standing in the corner of the room or in a crowd. "Because your mama is the queen," he responded casually, as if he was stating a fact.

Isabella lifted her head, "does that make you the king?" He shrugged, "I guess it does."

She giggled, "and does that mean we get a happily ever after like the storybooks?" Max reached his hand out towards you, asking you to join them which you obliged to easily.

"Ours is better than the storybooks," he stated, placing a kiss on Isabella's forehead before pecking your lips briefly.

The End.

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[haveateadude]

don't say yes, run away now

summary *. ⋆ ⋆·˚ what happens when you invite Ellie to your wedding, and what would you do if she stands up?

warnings *. ⋆ ⋆·˚ i mention sex like,, once but nothing happens. homophobia and some white guy named michael.

author notes *. ⋆ ⋆·˚ I LOVED THIS IDEA OMGG AND I FINALLY GOT TO WRITE ITTT

I hear the preacher say, "Speak now or forever hold your peace"

There's the silence, there's my last chance

I stand up with shaky hands, all eyes on me

Horrified looks from everyone in the room

But I'm only looking at you

You've wanted to get married for as long as you can remember. You have always dreamed of wearing a white dress, with your arm hooked around your father's while he walks you down the aisle, your whole family and friends sitting on those wooden chairs applauding as you kiss the person you love the most. Except, today is your wedding. And you don't think you want this. A little voice in your head is going: this is wrong this is wrong this is wrong and you don't love him you won't be happy don't do this don't do this you'll be miserable.

Don't do this

Don't do this

Don't do this.

"Don't move," you hear your mother say. You come back to reality as she zips up your dress. It's itchy and uncomfortable and you can't breathe. Is this really what you've been wishing for your whole life? "All done."

You turn around to look at your mother. You chuckle, trying to hide how shitty you're feeling, "This is uncomfortable."

"Oh, shush," She says, smiling. "Bear with it. You only get to do this once in your life—unless you divorce Michael and get married again. Which, you shouldn't because the divorce papers cost a shit ton of money. And he's a good guy, isn't he?"

You nod, "Yeah, mom. He is."

"That's good." She stops for a second, then looks at you: from head to toe. She's still smiling and it's starting to freak you out. "I can't believe this is happening. You look so beautiful, honey. "

"Thank you."

"You know, you scared me for a second. For a while, I thought you were a lesbian when you used to bring that girl back then. What was her name? Ella, Amelia, Bella…"

"Ellie?"

"Right, Ellie. You've invited her, haven't you?"

You nod, "Yeah. She's still a friend."

You don't know if liking each other's Instagram stories counts as being friends. And it might seem cruel, knowing you've dated her secretly in the past, and now you've invited her to your fucking wedding. But it didn’t feel right not to ask her. You've known her since you were in high school.

You take a deep breath, desperately trying to get Ellie off your mind. All you're starting to think about now is kissing under the rain with her, secretly passing notes in the hallway, laughing in between kisses, sitting in between her legs while you read - just quietly existing in each other's presence without having to make it sexual. This is the moment you realize you've never felt this way with Michael. He makes you smile and he kisses you when he comes home from work. But he never laughs during sex, and he never holds your hand except for when you're in public. He never whispers, "It's okay," ever so gently like Ellie when you cry; he never runs his finger through your hair like Ellie used to when you couldn't sleep.

This is the day of your wedding, for fuck's sake. Maybe deciding to marry in church wasn't a good idea.

A part of you knows that you've been longing for Ellie your whole life.

You were wishing she wouldn't come, but as you walk down the aisle you can't help but catch a glimpse of her eyes. It always seemed that you were connected—as if you both had a string attached to your pinkies. If she pulled—if she looked at the back of your head you'd turn around to look at her; if she walked to the room you would be able to feel it—you would fucking feel it. Right now you could feel the string. She was tugging at it. She was tugging and tugging and tugging and she would not leave you alone.

As you stand in front of Micheal you try to smile; he smiles back. Ellie is tugging at the string. She could always tell when you had a fake smile on your face.

The preacher is talking but you're not hearing him.

"Are you okay?" Michael whispers to you.

You nod, still smiling. With teeth and everything. You then whisper, "Yeah, I'm just overwhelmed."

"Me too," he whispers back. "I'm so happy, I can't believe this is happening."

You're about to reply when you hear, "Speak now or forever hold your peace—"

And then someone stands up.

And then your smile drops as you look at her.

Ellie has always been reckless, the little shit. She's always bold and brave and she isn't scared of saying what she thinks but still—this surprises you. You hear an echo of gasps around the place and all eyes are on her as she's standing. But she doesn't say anything. She looks around the room and then looks at you so you look at her. Tug, tug, tug. You can't help but feel like a helpless teenage girl in a secret relationship—this is what you felt when you used to look at her in a party, knowing nobody knew about her and you and also knowing you'll find your ways to meet up later. And then she blinks, and then leaves. Just like that. She walks out.

Michael's eyes are on you. It hits you, suddenly, that you will be married to him. He'll want to have kids and you will agree because that's who you are and then you'll be miserable.

"Woah," He laughs. Like this is funny. Like someone has just told a joke. "Was that Ella? Your mother told me that—"

And then your feet are moving before you can think of the consequences. People gasp again, now they're starting to stand up. You walk out, taking out your veil and heels, and leave them on the floor of the church as you run. You can't help but feel happy, free, proud. Especially proud. Like this isn't your secret anymore—like you could scream at the world how much you like her without being embarrassed or scared. Everyone should know you love her.

"Ellie!" You exclaim as you look at her. She's also running. "Ellie, hold up!"

She stops suddenly, turning around to look at you. Her breath is ragged.

"Did you just—what are you doing here? You're getting married."

"Fuck Michael," You breathe out, hands over your knees, trying to catch your breath. "I think I hate him and I—and I keep thinking about you. And I just—fuck Ellie. I can't marry him."

"You've wanted this your whole life," she says. She knows how much you've wanted to get married, you always talked to her about it. "You've finally got it and—"

And then she's not speaking, because you're kissing her. Her lips feel like home. Ellie chuckles and then you're laughing, too. You press your forehead against hers and you feel like you could cry. Maybe you are. She wraps her arms around you like she just needs to hold you.

"I'm sorry to break this moment," she starts to say as she pulls away, looking behind your shoulder. "But we've got a mad mother running towards us."

You look behind as you see that your mother is running as she screams your full name.

"Run," you tell her. She nods and seconds after you're both running for your lives, Ellie holding your hand gently.

"Thank god I brought my car!" She exclaims as she pulls her keys with her other hand. She unlocks the car doors and as soon as she gets in she starts the engine. You get into the passenger's seat. "I can't believe we just did that."

You laugh as Ellie drives until losing sight of your mother.

You know this will bring a lot of consequences and maybe you'll never talk to your family again. But well—at least you'll live a happy life and will never run out of what to talk about in therapy.

[solelifauna]

So this NOT to imply the writing is bad

But so far the Batfam fic as me genuinely shaking in anger , the fact that dick is convinced that y/n as to prove herself to be "worthy" genuinely got to me to the point I need a pallete cleanser

Could we please get a small drabble of reader growing close with one of the "outside" batfam members?

Like maybe Kate(batwoman) and Luke (batwing) because they are under used

Or hell, maybe to really grind the family gears, reader gets close to azrael

(you know Bruce would've able to do shit if reader got close with Kate, she would fucking eat him alive)

Hey, You're all good bro! I also just want to put out that my fic is based on an au! The portrayals of any characters in my fic are based off of their canon and fanon counterparts, just with my own twist. Since this is a darker universe/au, the Bats along with other heroes are going to be a lot more brutal and jaded.

Also love your idea bro. But, I'll do you one better. Constantine. Bruce absolutely can't stand him and the reader being friends with/getting along with him? Oh, that's bound to grind Bruce's gears. It would also be easier to meet Constantine too.

Let's just say one day the reader gets caught up in some Justice League Dark stuff that Constantine is trying to solve. She gets kidnapped by a cult that wants to use her as a sacrifice. I mean, she is a pretty huge target, being the daughter of a Billionaire after all. Anyways, shes kidnapped, nobody is coming to get her, not from her family at least. Long story short, Constantine arrives too late to stop the ritual, but things don't go according to plan for the cultists anyway. Turns out that the person sacrificed wouldn't be killed, but would instead become a vessel.

Great, now you have some old, eldrich being living rent-free in your mind. The being is old, donning the title "Keeper of Hell", but you'll just call it (they? him? her?), Adam. Yeah, Adam wasn't too happy with the name. When Constantine arrives, however, hes pleasantly surprised to find you alive. When he realizes that you, a 15-year-old, now carry the presence and power of an eldritch being older than Gotham itself, he groans while lighting up a cigarette. Looks like he'd have to deal with you now.

He checks over you making sure you have no internal and external injuries before explaining your situation. He feels a little sorry for you, but he is in no condition to train you. He asks around to other JL dark members, hoping to see if anyone is willing to help you control your new powers. He sighs again when nobody steps up to the plate, too busy with their own sidekicks and quests.

Reluctantly, he tells you he'd help you figure stuff out. And there begins the blossoming of the amazing "Grumpy old man and kid they didn't ask for" troupe. When you tell Constantine your name, he blanks, because of course he gets stuck with one of the bat's kids. However, based on your tone of voice when discussing your family (and the way you begged him not to let Bruce/Batman know of your predicament), he's guessing things aren't all too great between you all. Well, thats not his problem, his only job was to train you and make sure you don't end up accidentally killing someone.

Yeah...like that thought process is going to last. Training sessions start out bleak and professional, he's only doing a job. Then as time continues, he finds himself enjoying your company, your enthusiasm to learn and your rambunctious/sarcastic comebacks always have him fighting off a smile. It's been a while since he's had company like this. Soon, you're both going out on missions, and then ice cream breaks afterward. He lets you fall asleep on his shoulder, drooling all over his trench coat after particularly difficult missions and he can't bring himself to mind.

He's fond of you, although he never admits it out loud. It's okay though, because even though he's never said it out loud, his actions speak louder than words. You could feel his love and pride for you. Although he wasn't exactly your dad per se, he was still something to you, maybe the wine uncle? You don't know, and you don't particularly care to put a label on what Constantine was to you, you're just glad that he's there.

Shit hits the fan, however, when one day you decide to go on a solo mission. It's nothing crazy, just getting rid of some poltergeists and low-level demons and shades. Now, were you given permission to go on this mission alone? No, but in a normal teenage manner, you decide to go anyway. Everything was fine, you got rid of all the poltergeists in the area and even some of the shades too! It's all going well until you realize that the demon mentioned before was not as weak as you were told. You gulped when its blood red eyes turned to you.

"Well shit." Constantine was going to kill you.

It immediately lunges at you, you barely rolling out of its sharp claws. You hit it with a couple of spells, causing the demon to roar out in pain, burn marks now littering its side. Its tail whips at you, colliding with your stomach as you fly into a wall with a loud thud. You groan as you pick yourself up, clutching your ribs, each breath a jagged pain that ripples through your chest. Your arm is slick with blood, the gashes from the demon's claws burning as if its very essence were trying to sear your flesh. You grit your teeth and weave another spell, calling on Adam’s power to knock the demon back. This time, a burst of raw energy slams into it, shattering its leg with a sickening crack.

For a brief moment, you think it's over, ready to strike the final blow. But the demon’s leg snaps back into place, bone and flesh knitting together as if the injury had never happened.

“Of course,” you mutter under your breath. “Why would this be easy?”

The demon lunges again, and you’re just a split second too slow. Burning pain flares through your right arm as its claws tear into you, ripping through your flesh like paper. You scream, the sound involuntary, but you push through the pain, refusing to go down without a fight.

Drawing back, you unleash another spell, a sharp projectile of energy aimed at its neck. The demon flinches, letting out a low growl. That reaction—panic—gives you the first glimmer of hope. Its neck. That's its weak spot.

With renewed determination, you gather every ounce of strength you have left. The cuts across your body throb, and your arm feels like it’s on fire, but you push it all aside. You can do this. You have to do this.

You unleash a volley of cutting spells, each one aimed at the demon’s throat. It fights back viciously, throwing you around the room with a strength that makes your vision blur. Every hit you take feels like your bones are splintering, but you keep going. You keep attacking.

Finally, one of your spells strikes true.

The demon lets out a gurgling screech as your spell cuts deep into its neck. Blood—thick and dark—pours from the wound, and it claws at its own throat, choking. Its body spasms violently, and then, as if collapsing in on itself, it begins to disintegrate. In a few seconds, all that’s left is dust.

You stand there, panting, barely able to process the fact that you did it. You won. A grin spreads across your face, and despite the pain radiating from every part of your body, you let out a weak cheer.

But the celebration is short-lived.

Pain cuts through you like a knife, sharp and sudden, reminding you of just how battered you are. Blood is still oozing from the various gashes across your body, and your arm feels like it’s hanging by a thread. You stumble, nearly falling, but catch yourself at the last second.

“Crap… I’m bleeding out,” you mumble, wincing. “Whoops.”

With what little energy you have left, you remember the spell Constantine taught you, the one that would tether you to him no matter where you were. He warned you not to use it unless it was an emergency—and bleeding out from demon-inflicted wounds definitely qualifies.

You lift your shaking hand and cast the spell, a sluggish flick of your wrist sending out a ripple of energy. A portal forms, shimmering and unstable, but functional enough. Without much grace, you stumble through it, disappearing from the demon’s lair.

What you didn’t know, however, was that Constantine was currently in a Justice League meeting.

The first thing you feel is a sudden drop, like the ground beneath you has vanished. You barely register the sensation of falling before you crash, hard, onto something solid. Groaning, you blink through the haze of pain and find yourself sprawled across a massive table.

You can hear voices—muffled, alarmed—but the world is spinning too much for you to focus. All you know is that you're lying on something cold and hard, and you’re absolutely drenched in blood.

Forcing your eyes open, you see several figures standing around you, staring in shock. Your vision is blurry, but you can make out Superman’s cape and Wonder Woman’s armor. You try to process what's happening, but the pain in your arm and ribs keeps pulling you under.

"Ow, ow, ow, ow. Fuckkkk." You cry out.

Suddenly, the scent of smoke fills the air. You don't even have to look to know who it is. Constantine’s familiar trench coat brushes against your arm as he crouches beside you, cigarette dangling loosely from his lips. His eyes flicker with a dangerous mix of exasperation and barely concealed anger.

“What in the bloody fuck, kid?” he snaps, his tone harsher than usual, but the concern underlies his words.

You wince, the situation hitting you all at once. Crap. Now I've got to deal with this.

You muster a weak, sheepish grin, wincing as you turn your head to face him. “Heyyy Constantine, how are ya?”

His brow furrows deeper, and he’s clearly not amused. “What did you do?”

You swallow hard, trying to think of how to explain yourself without getting ripped to shreds—verbally or otherwise. “I—well, promise you won’t get mad?”

“Too late for that, kid. I’m already halfway there,” he growls, his eyes narrowing as he looks over your wounds. “Now get to it.”

You bite your lip, trying to find the least disastrous way to explain. “So… I sorta… mighta… gone on a solo demon-hunting mission,” you blurt out quickly, hoping he’d just move past it.

The way Constantine’s eyes widen, and the immediate twitch in his jaw tell you that he’s definitely not going to move past it.

“You did what?!” His voice rises as he stands up, rubbing a hand over his face. “Oh bloody— I thought I specifically told you not to go by yourself! And this is what happens!”

“Hey, well, I’m alive, aren’t I?” you say, grinning nervously, trying to play it off.

“That’s besides the point!” He throws his arms up, pacing as he takes a long drag from his cigarette. “Bloody hell, I should’ve known better with you kids. I swear, this is why I never—”

Just then, a dark, grim voice cuts through the chaos, and your heart nearly stops.

“Constantine,” Batman’s tone is low, authoritative. “Why is my daughter bleeding on our table?”

Oh no. No, no, no. Not now.

You freeze, your mind going blank as you feel the weight of Batman’s presence at the end of the table. You slowly, painfully turn your head to see him standing there, cape draped over his shoulders, his gaze icy and locked onto you. His usual stoic expression somehow looks even more intense.

“Ah… shit,” you mutter under your breath, groaning inwardly as you realize you’ve just landed yourself in the absolute worst situation imaginable. “I completely forgot he was still here.” Wait, did you say that out loud?

Constantine gives you a sidelong glance, raising an eyebrow. “Yes, kid, you did. And now we’ve got more than just your wounds to worry about, don’t we?” He sighs deeply, rubbing his temples, already anticipating the fallout.

Batman’s eyes narrow, arms crossed as he takes a step closer to you, his voice low and dangerous. “Care to explain yourself?”

You’re still bleeding, your head is pounding, and you’re pretty sure at least a few bones are broken, but none of that compares to the fear creeping up your spine as you look up at your father. Your mind races for an answer, but every excuse you can think of feels flimsy at best.

Constantine clears his throat, sensing the rising tension in the room. “Right. Let’s get her fixed up before this turns into an interrogation, yeah? Kid’s bleeding all over the place, and she’s already taken a beating. We’ll save the lecture for later.” He waves his hand, muttering something under his breath as he kneels beside you again.

The tension between Constantine and Batman lingers in the air, thick and heavy, but Batman finally relents. His eyes soften—slightly—as he watches Constantine work to stabilize your injuries with magic.

You can feel yourself growing weaker, the adrenaline finally wearing off as the pain becomes unbearable. Constantine mutters a healing spell, one that slows the bleeding and knits some of the less serious cuts together. It's not perfect, but it’s enough for now.

“I think it’s time to get you all fixed up, huh?” Constantine says softly, his earlier anger tempered by concern as he helps you sit up, his hand firm on your back to support you.

You nod weakly, not daring to meet Batman’s eyes again. You’re in deep trouble, but for now, at least, you’re still breathing. As Constantine gets ready to teleport you to a safer place to heal, you hear Batman’s voice, calm but steely.

“We’re not done here.”

And with that ominous promise hanging in the air, Constantine picks you up, and the world around you shifts once again.

Constantine gently carries you through the halls toward the Justice League’s med bay, muttering curses under his breath with every step. You could feel his frustration radiating off him, and now, in the quiet aftermath of the fight, guilt begins to settle in your chest. The adrenaline from the battle has worn off, and now you're left with the consequences of your reckless actions.

“Hey, Constantine… I—I’m sorry for not listening to you. I really am,” you say, your voice soft and heavy with regret.

He sighs, not looking at you, but his tone is stern. “I’m not going to lie and say I’m not mad at you, kid. You didn’t just ignore my warnings—you put yourself in danger. There are rules for a reason. What if you got seriously hurt and couldn’t cast a spell back to me? Even worse, what if you died or got possessed?”

His words hit you hard, and you wither under the weight of them. You know he’s right. All those rules and restrictions aren’t just him being overprotective or controlling, they’re because he cares. He’s seen the kind of darkness that can swallow people whole, and the thought of that happening to you terrifies him, even if he’ll never say it out loud.

By the time you reach the med bay, the guilt feels like it’s pressing down on you as much as the pain in your ribs. Constantine lowers you onto a cot, tucking you in with a gruff gentleness that only he could pull off. He sits down on the side of the bed, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it with a quick flick of his fingers, his eyes never leaving yours.

“What I’m trying to say, kid,” he starts, exhaling a cloud of smoke, “is that I care. I care about you, I care about what happens to you. I don’t want—” He pauses, his voice softening. “I don’t want to ever have to find your body one day. So please, from now on, let me know before you do something stupid like this.”

His words hang in the air, raw and unfiltered. You nod, trying to process it all, and then something clicks in your mind. Wait… did he just say let him know?

“Let you know? Does this mean—” Your eyes widen as realization hits you. “Does this mean I can go on solo missions?”

Constantine lets out a resigned sigh. “Yes, yes, you can start going on solo missions—”

“Hell yeah!” you exclaim, sitting up a little too quickly. Pain shoots through your ribs, but you can’t help the excitement bubbling inside you.

“—but, only the ones I sanction and authorize,” Constantine finishes, cutting through your excitement with a stern look. You deflate a little at his words, but it’s still a victory in your book.

Without thinking, you throw your arms around him, ignoring the sharp pain it causes in your ribs. “Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you! I promise I won’t let you down!”

He chuckles, patting your back awkwardly before pulling away. “Yeah, yeah, I know you won’t. Now, lay back down and get some rest. You still have dark and brooding to deal with.” He gestures toward the direction of the meeting room, clearly dreading the inevitable confrontation with Batman. “And by extension, I do too,” he adds with a heavy sigh.

You groan, sinking back into the cot, the exhaustion finally catching up with you. “I don’t know why he even cares. If he did, he would’ve figured this out ages ago.”

Constantine glances at you, his expression softening for a moment. He takes a long drag of his cigarette before speaking. “He cares, kid. He just… doesn’t always show it the way you want him to. Doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel it.”

You scoff, though part of you knows he’s right. “Yeah, well, doesn’t feel like it.”

Constantine stands, taking one last drag of his cigarette before flicking it into a nearby ashtray. “Doesn’t matter how it feels right now. The Bat’s going to want answers, and if I know him, he’s going to want to have a very long talk with you. You’re not out of the woods yet.”

You wince at the thought of the upcoming conversation, knowing that Batman’s interrogation will be thorough and far less forgiving than Constantine’s.

“Great,” you mutter, closing your eyes and sinking deeper into the cot. “Just what I need.”

Constantine gives you a small, almost affectionate smile before turning to leave. “Get some rest, kid. You’ve earned it. I’ll deal with the big bad Bat for now.”

And with that, he walks out, leaving you alone in the med bay. As much as you’re dreading what’s to come, you can’t help but feel a sense of relief. Despite the pain and the mistakes you made, you know that Constantine’s got your back. And, maybe, just maybe, Batman does too, even if it’s buried under a mountain of brooding and silence.

For now, though, you let the exhaustion pull you under, trusting that everything else can wait until tomorrow.

-

As you rest, your body finally succumbing to the exhaustion, your breathing evens out and your mind drifts into sleep. The med bay is quiet, sterile, but the tension in the air lingers, waiting for the inevitable. Eventually, a dark, caped figure glides into the room silently, his form casting long shadows across the walls.

Batman—no, Bruce—stands over you, his sharp eyes tracing every bruise, every cut that mars your face. His jaw clenches as a million thoughts swirl in his head, none of them offering any comfort.

What the hell happened to you? Why are you and Constantine so close? How did you even know Constantine? How much had he missed—how little attention had he been paying—to not notice any of this?

Bruce sighs, a deep and frustrated sound. He removes his cowl, setting it on the side table with a weary hand. Without it, he seems less intimidating, less imposing. He stares down at you, seeing the cuts and bruises marking your skin, but what hits him harder is the way your face, in sleep, is still so achingly young. You're his daughter, and yet it feels like you're a stranger to him now.

How did you get so far away?

He knows the answer. The fault lies with him, with the choices he made, the excuses he repeated to himself—telling himself he was too busy, telling himself he would check in later. Later never came, though, and the space between you widened, until it wasn't just him you were drifting away from, but your brothers too.

Bruce noticed the way your brothers treated you, the harsh words, the cold shoulders. He saw the distance, but he justified it, telling himself it was sibling rivalry or something that would pass. He didn't step in. And now, as he looks at you lying there, bruised and battered from a fight he wasn’t even aware of, the reality sinks in: he has no excuse.

With a heavy sigh, Bruce reaches out, his rough but careful hand carding gently through your hair. The gesture is tender, hesitant, as if he's not sure whether he has the right to touch you like this anymore. But as his fingers comb through your hair, you stir in your sleep, a quiet murmur escaping your lips as you unconsciously lean into his touch. It's such a sweet, innocent moment, and for a brief second, Bruce allows himself to feel the warmth of it.

But the moment is fleeting.

He feels the presence before he sees it, the unmistakable smell of cigarette smoke filling the room. His jaw tightens as his hand stills. He doesn’t turn right away, but his voice cuts through the silence.

“Constantine,” Bruce says, his tone gruff even without the cowl to disguise it.

Constantine steps into the room more fully, leaning against the wall, a half-smoked cigarette between his lips. He regards Bruce with that same nonchalance he carries everywhere, though there's a flicker of something else in his eyes—something more cautious.

"Thought you’d still be brooding over in the corner," Constantine says, taking a drag of his cigarette. His eyes drift to you, lying peacefully on the cot. “Didn’t expect to see this version of you.”

Bruce doesn’t respond right away. He pulls his hand back from your hair, his gaze hardening. "What happened?" The question is direct, but underneath it, Constantine can hear the concern, the frustration Bruce doesn't voice aloud.

"She went off on her own," Constantine mutters, taking another drag before blowing out a cloud of smoke. "Went after a demon. Got roughed up pretty bad, but she handled it in the end. Strong kid. Stubborn too. Wonder where she gets that from, eh?"

Bruce's eyes narrow. "And you let her?"

"Let her?" Constantine laughs, a short, sharp sound. "Mate, I didn’t let her. She went behind my back, just like she’s gone behind yours for who knows how long. Difference is, I’m the one she actually came back to.”

That lands like a punch to Bruce's gut. He doesn’t react visibly, but Constantine can see the tension in his posture.

"I didn't know she was…" Bruce starts, then stops, shaking his head. The words feel inadequate. "I didn't know she was involved with this stuff, i didn't even know she was a meta. Or that she knew you."

"Yeah, well, she found her way to me," Constantine says with a shrug, stubbing out his cigarette on the wall. “And she's not a meta by the way, she's a vessel for some eldritch being"

A vague expression of surprise appears on Bruce's face.

"I don't blame you, mate. I was surprised to find her alive afterwards. Not just anyone survives that kind of transformation, she's strong.”

Bruce crosses his arms, his gaze flickering between you and Constantine. “I know she’s strong.”

“Do you?” Constantine raises an eyebrow, the challenge clear in his tone. “Because she’s been running herself ragged trying to prove it. To you. To herself. And, hell, maybe to me too, but at least I see it.”

There’s silence for a moment. Bruce clenches his jaw, turning to look at you again, sleeping soundly despite the tension in the room. He knew Constantine was right. You'd been pushing yourself, fighting to show that you didn’t need them—that you were strong enough on your own. And he had let you. He'd let you because he didn't even care to notice.

Constantine sighs, sensing the weight of the silence. “Look, I didn’t come here to throw stones. But you’ve got to get your shit together with her. She’s tough, but she’s still a kid, and she’s your kid. She needs you.”

Bruce doesn’t answer, but his silence speaks volumes. He watches you, the soft rise and fall of your chest, and feels the regret gnawing at him.

“I’ll handle it,” Bruce finally says, though the words feel hollow.

Constantine gives him a long look, then nods. “You better. Because if you don’t, she’ll be right back with me..”

With that, Constantine pushes off the wall, flicking away the last of his cigarette. “I’ll check in on her later. Try not to fuck this up, mate.” And with one last glance at you, Constantine leaves, the tension in the room ebbing with him.

Bruce remains, standing over you, his mind a whirlwind of regret, guilt, and the desire to fix what’s been broken for far too long. He leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead—something he hasn’t done in what feels like years—before stepping back, pulling the chair beside your bed to sit vigil over you.

He’s still not sure how to bridge the gap, but for now, he stays. It’s a start.

Well, thats all folks! I really enjoyed writing this au, so thanks for the idea! Maybe ill even make a pt. 2 to this? Who knows? Anyways, I hope you enjoyed it.

[lixzey]

sincerely, yours.

luke castellan x fem athena!reader

summary: in which Luke receives love letters from a secret admirer.

1.4k words

warnings, i guess?: pre tlt!!! reader has a huge ass crush on luke, reader is weird around luke (like any normal person around their crush), love letters, secret admirer, reader is kinda stalker-ish (maybe all athena kids are lol), reader is friends with silena and clarisse, camp golden boy luke!!! reader has GRAY EYES like every other child of Athena, as this is a key note in the story but i'll leave the hair color out for you guys 🫶🏻

ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE

“Handsome, you're a mansion with a view.”

“Hey, Luke?” Chris Rodriguez calls out to his older brother, brows knitted in confusion, as he walks towards the head of cabin eleven, who was helping their brothers—Travis and Connor—fix their armor for Capture the Flag in just a few more minutes. 

“Yeah?” Luke hums, his eyes not leaving the younger Stoll’s as he finishes the strap of Connor’s armor. “What is it?”

“Someone left this on your bed,” Chris answered, pulling out a tea-colored envelope from his pocket and giving it to the older boy. “It has your name on it.”

Luke pats Connor on the shoulder. “Trav, go and get shields and swords from the armory with Connor.” The eldest Stoll nodded, while the youngest opened his mouth to talk, but Luke got ahead of him. “No, Connor, you can’t have a flaming arrow. Now get over there!” He chuckles, playfully shoving the brothers away with a grin.

As soon as the two leave—Connor huffing about the flaming arrow—Luke turns to face Chris. “Who’s it from?” He asks, eyeing the envelope in Chris’ hand.

Chris shrugged. “I don’t know; it wasn't signed. It just had your name.”

“Huh,” Luke grabs the envelope from Chris’ hold, his eyes searching for any information. Instead, a pink heart wax stamp greeted him.

“You got another admirer?” Chris smirks, playfully nudging Luke. “Oh, to be you, huh? Girls here and there.”

Luke glares at Chris. “Shut up,”

“But that’s a first. A love letter. You think it’s from one of the Aphrodite kids?” Chris grinned, wiggling his eyebrows. “Explains the pink heart.”

“You talk too much, don’t you?” Luke groaned, shaking his head. “Go follow the Stolls; make sure they don’t burn the armory down. I’ll follow.”

Chris rolls his eyes, chuckling slightly. “Alright, alright, I’ll leave you with your love letter.”

“Go,” Luke huffs, shoving his brother out the door.

“Geez, lover boy, stop pushing me!” Chris laughed as Luke pushed him again. “Okay, okay, I’ll go!” He chuckles, raising his hands up in surrender. “See you at the creek!”

Luke rolls his eyes, shaking his head as Chris runs off. He then turns his attention to the envelope in his hand, with his name written in perfect cursive in bright pink. If Luke wasn’t quick to jump to conclusions, he’d assume that an Aphrodite kid probably sent the letter. The pink ink was a dead give-away. But there was a small voice in the back of Luke’s mind saying otherwise.

The Hermes counselor sighs before making his way to his bed. Maybe there he could find anything else related to the mysterious admirer. Luke plopped down onto his bed, torn between ripping the envelope open or gently opening it in fear of tearing anything else that was inside.

With a shake of his head, Luke slowly opened the tea-stain envelope, the smell of old books and jasmine invading his nostrils as he gently pulled the paper out.

Dear Luke, 

I love you. 

Oh gods, where do I even begin to explain that?

Okay, so I have liked—no, loved—you since I was thirteen and you were fourteen. I know a lot of girls like you, even boys. I’m not even half of those who do. I’m just, well, me. A girl who you’d never give a second glance at. 

This is utterly stupid, honestly. Taking the risk to write this letter to you when you and I literally live in camp all year round. But, I guess, who cares? I mean, I’m already here writing this, so why back out now?

I remember the first time I saw you. Handsome, you’re a fucking mansion with a view. You were out in the arena, training with Leon Hayes. It was the day after you and Annabeth arrived at camp. You were so good, deserving the title of ‘the best swordsman’ camp has seen in three hundred years. Your dark curls looked like a halo as you sparred with him, a mischievous look in your eyes as they shined like ambers underneath the golden rays of sunlight. From that day on, I knew I was in trouble. Everything about you captivates me—a secret no one knows. 

Every time you’re around, my heart beats too fucking fast, like a pegasus galloping in the wind. You make the butterflies in my stomach flutter like crazy, you make my palms get sweaty, and my words fail me, leaving me a stuttering mess when you’re near and you aren’t even talking to me. See what you do to me? I’ve never thought I would fall head over heels for someone so completely and so effortlessly.

You make the angels in heaven dance and sing hymns. Each time I look at you, wedding bells ring inside my head. You make me want more and more of you. I just can't think straight when you're in my head; even writing your name makes my cheeks turn red. You make me smile in so many ways, to the point that it isn’t even funny anymore. You are my favorite everything. I’ve been telling my friends that since I was fifteen. 

I get jealous when I see someone who gets close to you and flirts with you. I just can’t explain how annoyed—angry—I get when they try to get your attention when I have no right to be. There’s just something about you. I can’t pinpoint it, but it’s the same damn thing that made my heart surrender.

Do you think if I wished on every dandelion in the world, you’d be mine? It would be a dream come true, of course. But in reality? You would never notice me. Like I said before, I’m just a girl you’d never take a second glance at. I’d forever be in the shadow of everyone else, hidden far away in the darkness.

You take my breath away, Luke Castellan. I don’t know how, but, fuck, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

sincerely,

yours

Luke stared at the letter for a few seconds, still trying to understand the words he had just read. He knew that girls liked him, but he never had someone send him a love letter, let alone a detailed one.

“Who are you?” Luke muttered, his eyes going back and forth through the letter, wondering who the girl was who’d written the letter. Something about her words made him want to find her, but the letter wasn’t signed. No name, no cabin, no anything. How was he going to find out who wrote the letter? 

“Luke, capture’s in five minutes!” Annabeth’s voice snapped Luke out of his thoughts. He quickly folded the letter, placing it back in the envelope, before shoving it under his mattress. He isn’t taking any chances, especially with the Stoll brothers, whom reminded Luke of him and Chris just a few years back.

Luke immediately ran out of cabin eleven, meeting Annabeth down at the steps.

“You still aren’t geared up,” Annabeth observed, brow raised. “I can’t afford another loss, Luke,” she huffed, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Got held up inside, you know, the Stolls.” Luke shrugged, hoping she wouldn't see through his lie. Technically, it wasn’t a lie. He did get held up with his younger brothers, well, minus that tiny exclusion under his mattress.

Annabeth sighed. “Just go and get ready. The conch will sound in a few, and I still have to find Y/n and Malcolm.”

“Yes, ma’am!” Luke chuckled, saluting to his not-so-little sister. “We will win; don’t worry.”

Annabeth rolled her eyes. “You said that last year.”

“Gotta be positive, Annie Bunny,” Luke grinned, nudging the younger girl slightly.

“Stop calling me that,” Annabeth huffed, turning her heel to walk away.

“What? You loved bunnies!” Luke teased as she walked away.

“I was seven!” Annabeth groaned, walking faster, making Luke laugh.

“See you at the creek in four minutes!” Luke called after the daughter of Athena before turning to walk to the armory when someone collided face first into his chest.

“Woah, careful there,” Luke chuckled, catching that someone in his arms. A girl with the same gray eyes as Annabeth, a little more on the silver side, though still as intense.

“Uh, hi?”

“You okay, pretty girl?” Luke asks, smiling at her, his strong arms still wrapped around her waist for support.

“Uh, think so? Yes? I guess?” she rambled, her eyes not meeting his. 

Luke chuckles, helping the girl get back on her feet. “Careful next time, alright?”

“Uh, okay, bye!”

Luke laughed as the girl quickly scrambled away, her long hair bouncing behind her. “See you on the battlefield later, Y/n!”

tags: @lilmaymayy @mischiefmoons

[amsznn]

can you do dad matt and chris's different reactions to their daughter getting her first period while her mom wasn't home 😭😂 (i also really love your writing your amazing 💗🫂)

GROWING UP - c. and m. sturniolo

chris:

chris’ afternoon had been going smoothly. he lightly plopped onto the living room couch, ready to relax for the next couple of hours.

you had left to work on some brand deals with your team, leaving him to tend with your two daughters.

luckily for him your youngest had dance practice so he would only have to pick her up in a couple of hours. And your eldest was in her room, finishing up her homework.

everything had been normal when she came home. she greeted chris as per usual and rambled on about her day, which chris always listened intently to. then she finished the snack chris had prepared for her before she came home. Finally she thanked her dad and went to her room.

so imagine chris’ confusion as to when he heard blood curdling screams coming from his daughter’s room.

mid movie, chris jumped up and ran upstairs. of course he didnt want to barge in so he hurriedly knocked.

“honey? you okay?” he asked with worry. he could hear the light sobs of your daughter through the door and swung it open.

“dad, can you call mom?” your daughter asked through broken sobs. chris of course whipped out his phone and without a thought dialed your number.

as he approached further he could see the light patch of blood on the girls bed and put two and two together.

chris was still trying to find the right words to comfort his daughter and unfortunately you weren’t answering.

“hey, theres no need to cry, here.” chris said has he jumbled up the sheets and placed them in the laundry basket.

“your mom told you all about this before right?” he asked as she nodded. “so why dont you go clean up and ill get of some ice cream?” your daughter wiped away her tears and smiled.

chris gave her a light peck on the head and went to go wash the sheets.

in the end your daughter calmed down with the help of your husband (and ice cream), and you were in for a story when you came back home.

matt:

matt’s experience was similar to chris’, except his daughter was way more calm about it.

it was just a regular weekend afternoon and you had gone to brunch with your friends, leaving matt and your daughter at the house.

matt and your daughter had decided to spend some time together. playing board games, eating food they baked, and watching some movies.

it was on their second movie when your daughter had gotten up to use the bathroom. matt had taken this opportunity to send you a few texts since your daughter had a strict ‘no phones when watching movies’ rules. he stopped texting when he heard a faint

“daaad..”

“yes..?” he answered a bit confused. but he got up anyways and made his way towards the bathroom

“do you know where mom keeps the pads?” his daughter asked and honestly, it took him a minute to process what was happening. of course he didnt want to freak her out even more.

“uh- yeah, theyre in the bin on the rack.” he said with a cough, dialing your number in the process. lets just say, you were speeding home to give your daughter some emotional support.

-

a/n: sorry for any requests that havent been submitted, im gonna go through all them pretty soon once i have the time!

[personasintro]

Romance Is Not Dead | jjk

↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; it’s valentine's day and you're single

⇢ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: brother's best friend!jungkook x reader

⇢ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff, angst (?)

⇢ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: explicit language, mentions of sex (it's mentioned quite a lot), reader's brother is kinda dick, alcohol usage, men (that deserves a warning alright), drunk people (it's a party), angst (?) honestly I'm not sure if there's any angst but it's a story with a few realistic topics that are kinda sad if you think about it, it's not your average fluff story lol

⇢ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 7.7k+

a/n: happy valentine's day! mind you this was supposed to be a short drabble like around 2k lol, I had no proper idea of where this will go and somehow I ended up with quite a long story haha. but I'm happy I got more into writing, I wasn't expecting writing this much. if there are any mistakes, please ignore them hehe. I rushed to post it so I could make it on february 14th. I don't know what even is this story but i hope you enjoy it hahah don't forget to like and reblog ♡

“Argh! Who even invented Valentine's Day?”

The groan that leaves your mouth – or more like a loud complaint – rolls around the room, not stopping you from tossing your bag on the kitchen's table to show your annoyance more than actual anger.

“Hello to you too, sis.” Your brother throws a peace sign your way, not particularly fazed by the lack of greeting on your side.

From your peripheral vision you could easily tell they're right there. Your brother and his best friend have been best friends since high school, they go way back and somehow, they've managed to stay super close till now. It's quite admirable, you have to admit. You don't think you've ever seen or heard them fight. Overall, their friendship seems to be more relaxed in this sense than most girls' friendships.

Yes, that mostly happens between guys. They're not as dramatic or bitchy as some girls can be. God. None of your current friends are your friends from high school. You've parted ways eventually.

However, the amount of drama free that's clearly not present in their precious brotherhood is equalized with loud burps, unfiltered talks about girls and sex through male eyes. You would've mentioned farting but luckily, you haven't heard your brother's best friend to be that nasty in front of you. Which can't be said about your brother but well, that's a part of having a sibling – regardless of their gender.

It's quite cliché.

Your brother's older, therefore he's protective yet loves to embarrass you at any chance. He thinks he's all that and sometimes, it feels like he thinks he's your third parent. That's what's more annoying – perhaps even more than overrated Valentine's Day. 

“Did someone decline you on Valentine's Day?”

There he goes again.

Teasing you. It's a never-ending circle. Luckily, you've grown resistant to his pathetic attempts to embarrass you – especially when his friends are present. Yeah, your brother can be a dick and you're not afraid to tell him.

Though, you don't stick to the names and curses and instead turn it into something more powerful. 

Scoffing, you swipe your hair back and give him a look. “Please, look at me.”

“I am, that's why I asked.” 

You waste no time in grabbing one of the stupid empty cans he always has laying around and throw it at him. Did you mention he can be a pig sometimes?

Your aim has gotten way better throughout the years and when he curses at you once it hits the side of his head, you smile happily. His friend chuckles at the two of you, lifting the can that has fallen onto the floor and sets it on the table.

“Yeah, and that's why you chase every man that comes my way.” you comment, knowing well damn you're right. 

He frowns, “Those men can hardly be called men, sis.”

“Well, bro, I wouldn't know since you like to be the pain in my ass.” you smile at him tightly, seeing him looking before he goes back to playing one of his stupid video games. “Not that I have a man to look up to in the first place.”

They've been doing that a lot. Lame. 

His best friend's snort turns into a laughter that he barely gets to hold in. That makes you smile because you see it as a success in getting back at your brother. And perhaps your little crush you've had on him has something to do with it. But we don't talk about it.

Your brother glares at him but he's not affected, not even a bit. It's hard to put it into words or make any definition, but he's always been slightly more… intimidating? He has an aura around him that makes you appreciate even a little reaction from him. 

It's humorous. You've known him for years, merrily just from always seeing him next to your brother (because there were never other opportunities), yet it feels like you barely know anything about him. Even though he used to occupy your living room almost every day. And today doesn't feel much different. The only difference is that none of you live at your parents' house. 

“Who hurt you today?”

“Don't be a dick. I can be a bitch too.” you remind him sweetly, leaning forward against the kitchen counter and grab a grape that lays in a single bowl. Probably the only healthy thing he has in this kitchen. 

He flips you off and frowns once he doesn't win the game. Karma. “Anyway, are you gonna tell us why you came here so annoyed or you're gonna eat?”

“I can do both,” you shrug. “I just don't get the hype about Valentine's Day.”

“Oh, you asked who invented it? Probably a pair of groupies in love.”

You roll your eyes, “I don't think that's it.”

“It's about romance. It's romantic, sis.”

You snort, “And how would you know anything about romance?”

He chuckles cockily as if the next words he says is something to be proud about; “I don't. But the girl I fucked said something about it.”

“Ew!” you gag, stopping yourself from reaching for another grape. “You're gross sometimes.”

“You don't talk about sex with your friends? C'mon, it's normal.”

“Yeah, with my friends. Not in front of you.” you justify. 

“Jesus, we didn't have to hear that.” Your brother scolds you, clearly uncomfortable at the thought of you talking about sex. 

You sometimes make sex jokes in front of him just to mess with him. It's pretty funny and it never gets old. You don't do it often though, but perhaps you should. 

“I hear only you complaining.” you sign out, pointing out the obvious and for the first time since you've arrived, you give proper attention to his best friend. 

He's been awfully quiet. What's there for him to say anyway? You and your brother bicker most of the time, no matter how old you are. He's pretty much used to it by now. He just stuck to playing the game and other than cackling at your previous comment, he's been quiet. You hate that you're slightly annoyed by the lack of attention he gives you. Not that you're an attention seeker or desperate for his attention.

It doesn't take a genius to figure out he sees you as his best friend's little sister. Even though you're not as little as when he first met you. 

“JK is the last person who wants to hear your complaints.”

“Why don't you let JK speak for himself?” you question, a little edge to your tone as your brother huffs out, muttering something under his breath – obviously aimed at you.

“Chill out, you two.” he mutters, voice slightly deeper than you remember it even though the last time you've seen him was last month. It has a little rasp to it and you wish your eyes wouldn't glue to him automatically. 

He lays comfortably on the couch, man spreading with a game controller sitting in his lap while his big thumbs rest comfortably against the buttons. You might've mentioned you are not friends with people from a high school anymore, but you have friends. One who would kill for a moment to spend with your brother's best friend. Just to be in his close proximity.

Though, it's no secret he's not any better than most guys his age – including your own brother. In a weird way, you love your brother (even though you wouldn't probably ever say it out loud because he's a weirdo and he would just make fun of you), but you can easily tell he's not someone you would ever want to end up with. Personality and morally wise, of course. 

He surrounds himself with people with the same values, or the lack of. 

And perhaps, it's one of the reasons why you suddenly got annoyed because of today's day. February 14th. You're the type that simply brushes off any guy who comes your way that you don't have any interest in. There's no need for your brother. He's a dick and he chases the ones that might not be husband material, but they're hot and charming. You're not necessarily looking for a marriage. God. You're too young. You don't want to be the one that gets locked in a marriage with someone they just met. 

Definitely you don't want to get knocked up either. Fuck, they're so many scenarios that run inside your head. Ones you don't want to live in. 

Regardless of your current stance when it comes to your life and relationships, you're still romantic. All of your friends have dates today. Any other day or year, you wouldn't even think of it – but you've seen everything in the shape of a heart today. Not mentioning there's everyone kissing and hugging at every corner of the street. 

And you didn't get a discount on your cake because you were alone with no partner around. Who does that? That's discrimination!

Valentine's Day is overrated. Maybe you think that way because you're single. Have been for too long. And while you don't necessarily miss it, you kind of crave for someone's affection and touch. It's not even about sex. 

“Listen, we're having a party tonight. I wouldn't normally invite you–”

“Wow, thanks.”

He shoots you a glare again before he continues, “But seeing you so miserable, maybe you could come too.”

“Party? Is this another one of your gangbang parties?”

“I have never been a part of that, stop calling my parties that.”

“There are literally hundreds of people who are there to hook up.” you inform him.

He snickers, “That's like every party.”

You lift up your eyebrows, not quite believing him. It's like every party he hosts or is invited to. People his age make parties slightly less wild. Not that he's too old but still. He's acting and living too wild for his age. 

“I'm not hosting it.”

“Who is?”

“JK here.” His brother says, head motioning toward the man next to him. “I'm sure you don't mind that I'm inviting her.”

The said man looks at his brother, shrugging. “I don't.”

“Well?” Your brother looks back at you. “Are you coming?”

“Are you gonna chase everyone that comes my way? Y'know, my friends are all having dates and if I don't wanna spend tonight alone, I would rather have fun.”

“You're allowed to come. And yeah, probably I will.”

“You're a douche. I'm an adult, stop treating me like a child.”

Your brother sighs, already knowing what argument is about to come. It's about the same stuff every time. 

“I'm doing it for your own good. The people that are gonna be there, guys that are gonna be there are like us, sis.”

There's a certain softness behind his voice, though it still stays vigorous as if he's trying to get something through your thick head. You know all of that, though. You know he doesn't hang out with the best people. But they're just dicks. And they're thinking with dicks. But you can take care of yourself. Besides, he's going to be there as well. 

JK, or Jungkook like you refer to him in your head, briefly looks at you. But you spot it and stare at him as his eyes drift to your brother. “You can't protect her forever.”

“That's something an asshole would say.”

“I never said I'm not one. But let her have her fun.”

“You know what? Don't come. I don't want you there.” Your brother stands up and shoots you a glare before he walks away. 

God! He's such a dick!

JK chuckles and you realize you've been frowning this whole time. You hear the door slam close and you scoff. “He's such a child.”

You eye him with no embarrassment whatsoever, tracing all the tattoos he has gotten throughout the years. The white shirt fits his torso perfectly, even though it's oversized his muscles peak through. 

Your friend told you he's at the gym almost every day. It sure looks like that. 

He suddenly stands up and you straighten automatically, watching him make his way toward you but not before tossing the game controller on the couch. He stays on the other side of the table, reaching for one of the grapes while still staring at you. 

God. He's doing something purposely.

For the first time today, your confidence slightly falters but you do your best not to show it. You stare as he pops one of the grapes into his mouth and chews on it. 

“You're still invited. That's if you still wanna come.”

You blink, “But my brother–”

“Is like a child sometimes. You're gonna be fine there.”

Gulping, you mutter; “How are you so sure?”

He doesn't answer but there's a small smirk playing on his lips. “You would still come, wouldn't you? Just to piss him off.”

That causes you to let out a soft chuckle because yes, he's right about that. Your brother needs to understand you're not a child. “I would.”

“Alright, then come.”

You poke the inside of your cheek with your tongue and lift your brow, “I will.”

You will go to the party. Even if your brother would burn down the city.

One of the few things you've learned about your brother's best friend – Jungkook – is that he comes from a wealthy family. You know he got his own place in the city center, that alone tells you he's got money. Whether they come from his parents or by his own hard work is unknown to you. Either way, it's quite clear he's always been slightly privileged than most kids your age.

You've never been to his parents' house. There was never a reason for you to go there, plus, you're not your brother and he didn't exactly bring his little sister with him whenever he went somewhere. The only time he would have to spend time with you alone was when he had to babysit you. But you would always stay home and he would let you know how annoyed he is because of that.

A typical teenager who wanted to chase girls and experience his first hook-ups rather than having to babysit his little sister who was born with sharp tongue and big mouth. You're probably his karma for all the hearts he already managed to break. 

Anyway – you know JK's parents' house is settled up the hill, away from the city and in a rich area where all the big houses were built. You've never seen it, hence your first reaction when you spotted a huge gate and a house that looks more like a mixture between mansion rather than a small family house.

Before he parted ways a few hours ago when you last saw him, he gave you the address. Seems like you've arrived just in time. There are many people, outside and inside – everywhere. It looks like the college parties you get to see in movies but more upgraded.

The thing about you is that you would never go to a party alone. Even if two people you know are here. Well, your brother still doesn't know you're here and he's about to get pissed once he sees you. Suddenly, the idea to piss him off doesn't seem so alluring.

But this house – or mansion or whatever this building is called – is the only place that is not filled with heart balloons. They might be couples and strangers that are glued to each other, the romance is simply not present. It's nasty and explicit to a certain extent. 

A part of you is disgusted at how easy some people seem to be, letting themselves to be groped by strangers, but there's something alluring. Perhaps even more than doing this just to prove a point to your brother. 

You don't get a chance to look around the place, since it's crowded and you're trying not to get shoved into, you're looking for a bigger space and maybe something to drink. You make it into the main room it seems. A huge couch in the shape of U looks massive but it fits into the big room perfectly. There are people everywhere and there's not a single space on the couch. However, once you make it closer and spot a tiny space, it's all forgotten and your vision naturally travels to the couple sitting there. 

You would spot those tattoos everywhere.

Jungkook's there. And a woman sitting on his lap as you see them making out explicitly, tongues brushing against each other. Alright, a part of you envies the woman but looking around and seeing more of them staring in slight irritation and jealousy, you're not alone. You scrunch your nose at them not caring and just making out with each other in front of everyone. There's no way they don't know everyone's eyes are on them. The guys ignore them though. It's mostly women.

The one that sits on his lap and seems to be ready to jump his bones, is wearing a tiny top and mini skirt. You can see her panties and you feel embarrassed to witness the tiny piece of underwear. Well, she doesn't seem to care.

His hand is on her waist, gripping it tightly as he pulls away and mutters something into her lips. She giggles, all her attention focused on him. 

Despite knowing him for years, you've never seen him in this element. And maybe that's what your brother didn't want you to see. Not even Jungkook but everyone here. You've witnessed a few parties, but this one is completely on another level. It looks straight out of a movie and perhaps completely out of your comfort zone. 

But you don't leave. You stick in your spot and just stare at your brother's best friend flaunting his charm all around him, but mostly aimed at the woman on his lap. 

Since your brother that eventually came out of the bathroom told you to get out, you've decided to come after all and give him a taste of his own medicine. Maybe not exactly the same but that's why you chose one of your tight dresses. They're not special. Just a dress that almost every woman owns. But this one has thin straps and you don't get to wear a bra in it, that's how tight it is. It's the only clothing you're wearing, minus the panties of course. 

You look good. You know you do and that's why you chose this outfit particularly. You thought the heels are perhaps too much, but luckily you opted for them instead of your sneakers. Everyone seems to be dressed like they're in a club. Not even one outfit on a woman here looks completely comfortable. And they show more skin when they wear clothing. Not that you're judging. You're not the one to talk.

And you know this choice of clothing is not only a magnet for eyes, but for unwanted touches you were counting on eventually. It's sad but it's the truth. That's why you never come alone to these things. You always have your friends with you. You would kick asses for each other and overall, you feel more protected and safe. 

The hand that slaps your ass – that definitely looks good in this dress – causes you to turn and twist your face in anger. You spot a wasted man that smiles stupidly as if he did something cute. You shove him in the chest causing him to stumble into a few people who start to curse at him and complain.

“Touch me one more time and I will fucking kick your ass.” you spit at him. 

Your ass might look good but that's not an open invitation for strangers or anyone to touch you unwillingly. 

He gains his balance and his drunk features twist into anger. You see it. He's angry because you're not all over his dick because he touched you. First of all, he's not even hot. And he's wasted out of his mind. There's nothing hot about it. 

He doesn't make it too close because you push him again, causing him to fall this time.

“You bitch!” he yells, having a trouble to stand up and you cover your mouth to shield the giggle that makes it out. 

One of the guys that he stumbled into turns around, ready to curse. But as your eyes lock, all the amusement fades away and your eyes widen in a sudden fear. Shit.

It takes a moment for your brother to register that it's you – perhaps the exposed skin causes him to widen his eyes too before they twist into anger.

“What the fuck.”

“I was invited.” you automatically argue, yelping once he makes his way toward you and grabs you by your forearm. He kicks the bastard that still tries to stand up and starts leading you elsewhere. No, he's not leading you but dragging you with him.

It's not the initial reaction you had in mind. You wanted to smirk, to show him that you're here and there's nothing you can do about it. But that's out of the picture because in the end, you're just a little girl that maybe loves to piss off her brother, but once you truly piss him off you back away.

That realization causes your anger to come back and you dig your heels into the wooden floor, trying to get out of his hold. “Stop squeezing me like that!”

“Would you like to be squeezed by strangers?!” He yells over the music, both of you stopping next to a staircase.

It already happened, you wanted to say but decide to stay quiet.

He couldn't see what the stranger did to you. He only saw the man falling and stumbling into him. So the fact that he's this pissed off to see you here without even seeing what happened just minutes ago, makes you think he needs a psychiatrist. What would he do if he saw what happened?

“Maybe I want that!” you yell at him. “And there's nothing you can do about it!”

He pinches the bridge of his nose and tries to calm down. “What are you doing here.”

“I told you. I was invited.”

“I uninvited you.”

You scoff, “It's not your party, you moron.”

“JK invited you?”

“Yeah.” you shrug just to piss him off some more.

He stares at you for a moment, glaring but you glare back before he shakes his head and takes a deep breath. “Fine. But you're not leaving my side.”

You scoff but he grabs your shoulders tightly. 

“I mean it.”

“Stop touching me.” You slap his hands away, his touch fading away as you're about to open your mouth to curse at him some more.

Before you can do it, someone nudges him from the left side. Your brother is about to pounce but once he sees his best friend in the flesh, he stays down but not before he's reminded of what you told him. 

“What are you doing.” He questions your brother but he just scoffs in return.

“You invited her?”

Jungkook rolls his lip piercing as he shrugs, “I did.”

“Are you out of your mind?”

“Me? You invited her first if I recall.” 

Your brother stares at his friend in disbelief before he glances at you. You shrug, lifting your brown. 

“You two are fucking unbelievable.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes, probably thinking your brother is just dramatic. Which he is. While they're too busy arguing, you don't pay attention to anything that's being said. You shamelessly eye Jungkook, spotting how blurry his lips are from the make out session you witnessed a while ago. He's got a similar outfit like you've seen him during the day. The only difference is that he's wearing all black. 

“Listen you two, I will stay out of your sight, okay?”

“No fucking way!” Your brother argues while Jungkook sighs in exhaustion. 

“I'm just gonna have a few drinks and meet new people.”

“These people are not for you to meet or be friends with.”

“Who said anything about being friends?” you mutter, causing your brother to curse at you once more.

“No–” He stops you before you can interrupt him, “You invited her, so you will look after her.”

“Me?” JK frowns, disliking the idea. While you would be slightly offended by the lack of interest when it comes to you, you're also irritated that your brother here is acting the same. Only this time he's giving the responsibility to Jungkook. 

“Yes, you! You invited her, so you'll watch over her tonight. If anything happens to her, I will personally kill you,” 

God. He's so full of himself. If Jungkook wanted, he could knock him out with one punch. But you don't say it to hurt his male ego and boost Jungkook's one. It seems they're full of ego. 

“And I'm not joking.”

He brushes past you two and leaves angrily. To probably shove his tongue down to any first girl he sees. 

And from the looks of it Jungkook looks like he would rather much do the same. But then he looks at you, reminded of his current responsibility. You. 

“Listen–you don't have to look after me–I can handle my–”

“Are you okay?”

“What?”

He stares you down, not in the creepy way to stare at your body but almost looking for anything that could give him answers to his question.

“I've seen what happened.”

“You've seen it?” you breathe out, “I'm fine.”

“You sure?”

“I handled it.” you grit through your teeth.

“You did,” he agrees much to your surprise. “Or maybe you were just lucky.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” You trash with your hands, but he catches your wrist. Gently. But he has his hold on you and your breath catches in your throat. He pulls you closer.

“What if it was someone who wouldn't be so wasted? Hm?”

You gulp, glancing at his lips for a split second before you find his dark eyes on yours. “It happened with people around us. Someone would step in.”

He scoffs, “Don't count on it too much.”

“They would–”

“Some of them. Not all of them,” he informs you. 

You're reminded that he knows these parties. He knows how it's going. And while no one would mess with him personally, it doesn't mean everyone is as safe as him. Let alone any women. That much you've realized and you haven't even been here for a half an hour. 

“What if he waited until you're drunk to take you somewhere else?”

You breathe out shakily, “Stop.”

“What if he dragged you upstairs? And that's just the start of what he might've done.”

“Fucking stop.” you warn him with your eyes but he doesn't budge. 

He tames you like you're a fucking dog.

“Your brother's right. You're staying with me.”

“And staring at you making out all night?”

You shut your mouth as soon as your response gets out. Jungkook tilts his head tiniest bit to the side and the corner of his mouth lifts up. “You were watching.”

“It was hard not to. Everyone was watching.”

“That's not an excuse.”

You inch closer, licking your lips. “It wasn't supposed to be.”

He stares at your lips before his touch disappears and so its warmth does. “You're not leaving my side.”

You scoff but he glares at you which surprisingly shuts you up. 

“I can give you alcohol, you can have fun. But you're not leaving my side.”

“You're worse than my brother.” That's a stretch and you both know it, but you've never seen Jungkook acting like this. He never really cared. He never had to in the first place. That's what your brother was for. 

He inches closer, hovering over you like only his presence can. “I can be worse.”

And somehow, that sounds like a promise. Once he motions for you to follow him, you do like a lost poppy with gritted teeth and anger bubbling inside you. But you don't disobey. Perhaps it's the shock or the weird feeling in the pit of your stomach that makes you buzz with excitement. 

Fuck. 

It's not hard not to have a crush on someone like Jungkook. He's hot, he's confident but not in the way where he's full of himself. He has every reason to be confident.

And just like he promised, he has managed to give you drinks that surprisingly taste good. They're not too strong and something tells you he purposely picked those out for you. You don't complain. They don't cause you to make grimaces at every gulp and you can feel yourself relax. In the corner your brother watches you with glare, reminding you of something that should feel like punishment. 

Perhaps it does.

Jungkook has you seated next to him, back on the couch. The woman he made out with sits on the opposite side, sending daggers next to you. You roll your eyes very publicly, scoffing and making sure she sees you. 

“JK, can we go somewhere else?” You hear her annoying sweet voice, while Jungkook himself looks slightly irritated that he has you on his watch. “Upstairs?” she suggests.

“Sorry, love, can't.”

She huffs out, “Why? Because you're babysitting?”

You move sideways to face her, leaning through Jungkook as you glare at her. “Maybe he just doesn't want your tongue shoved in his mouth.”

Jungkook sighs, lifting his hand to your collarbones to move you back but you don't budge. 

“Oh yeah? He wants more than that.” she informs you. 

“God, you're so desperate.”

“Excuse me?!”

“Behave.” Jungkook warns you, pushing slightly harder and finally, you plop back onto your spot and fume with arms crossed. 

“Tell your bitch to behave.”

“Y/N.” Jungkook warns through his teeth. You stop, realizing that this is the first time he said your name. Still fuming, you give him a glare before standing up.

“What did you just call me?”

“Come on.” Jungkook stands up too before you can make things worse and he's going to be caught up in a girls fight. This is not the night he planned.

He doesn't drag you like your brother did. He still rests his hand against your back and leads you in a direction. You don't protest. You want to but anything's better than being in the blonde's presence one more second. 

When you realize you're standing next to your brother who's leaning against the wall, watching the two of you with a knowing and quite pleased smirk. 

“Dude. That's enough.”

“Are you having any issue with my sis, JK?”

Jungkook rolls his eyes, “You made your point.”

“No, I don't think I have.”

“You two are annoying.” he sighs, closing his eyes.

“Excuse me? What have I done?” you exclaim, hand on your chest as he gives you a knowing look that shuts you up.

It's more than clear. Jungkook has brought you to your brother, so he could deal with you rather than he has to. It bruises your ego, but only slightly because you don't let any guy do any permanent damage. But you have to be honest. It's slightly embarrassing how he wants to shake you off. Clearly his plans for tonight have been different and watching the blondie still waiting for him patiently makes your night even worse, knowing what exactly he had planned. 

“You made me a huge cockblocker, bro.” you interrupt their bickering. It feels refreshing not to be the one bickering with your brother. 

Which reminds you that for the first time, you actually see them in some sort of argument even though it's not exactly a fight. Your brother as always is a pain in the ass and Jungkook's now experiencing it. You don't understand why Jungkook just doesn't let you go? Why did he insist on having you by his side at all times? 

Most likely, he doesn't want to piss off your brother.

Jungkook throws you yet another glare, but you brush him off pretty easily. “It's not about that.”

You give him a look which makes him groan.

“It's not just about that.”

And then they continue again. Your brother complains about your presence here, blames Jungkook rather than your own decision to come. He knows you. He knows you've done it to mess with him and it worked. But he expected better from Jungkook. 

You don't want to hear any second of it any longer. You don't wait for Jungkook's response, not even when you see his frown deepen and you know he's getting angrier by every word your brother spits in his face.

Using the tiny chance where they don't pay you any attention, you distance yourself from them. When you're in a safe distance and are not stopped by one of them, you make a run for it. Grabbing a wine bottle from someone's hold, ignoring them complaining, you make it upstairs and try to find a place where you can be alone. Before they find you.

You know once they notice you're not there, they'll be looking for you. Well, your brother will for sure. Even though he can be a dick, he's worried. But let him. That's what he gets for not letting you enjoy tonight. 

Passing by people who either mingle or make out, you try a few doors that are locked. Wise decision. Another reason why Jungkook seems to know how these parties go. It seems almost impossible to find a place where no one is. 

Just when you become tired and desperate, you make it to the quieter part of the house. It's weird because there are people everywhere. It's impossible to find somewhere quiet and empty. 

Luckily for you, you end up in a room that seems to be some sort of office. It's medium sized, definitely not one of the biggest rooms in this massive house, but still bigger than your kitchen and room together. 

It seems Jungkook has forgotten to lock this room. There's nothing special about it though. But he definitely doesn't want anyone to have sex on the wooden desk you pass by. There are a few shelves with books and a lamp, but other than that it's pretty empty. Oh, and there's a small couch. It looks expensive but it seems like they've brought it here just to put it somewhere. Not that it doesn't fit in here.

But it definitely doesn't look as expensive as the furniture you've managed to see in your short stay here. What has it been? Two hours? Two awful hours and no fun. 

Making it onto a small balcony, you sigh in relief when you find it open. It's facing the back of the house and your mouth drops when you see a fountain, pool and a garden in the distance. He's filthy rich. His parents are.

Sitting on the cold ground, you take a sip of the wine. Your features scrunch in disgust but you force yourself to drink. It's more from the whole annoyance and anger you've been feeling ever since you came here.

Maybe they were right.

This place is not for you.

You have no idea how long you end up sitting there. 

You just stare, hearing the blasting music in the distance and the chatter of people. You wonder if any neighbor called the police on him. But they're in the distance, probably they don't hear it as much.

There's a forest around you. There are no cars, no barking and no city noise. You wonder how this place feels like when there's no party. It must be calm and relaxing.

“Here you are.”

You hear it as soon as the balcony door slides open, ignoring the hint of annoyance in his voice as you take another gulp.

“You can't disappear like that!”

You chuckle, “Really? Watch me.”

“Your brother went crazy when you disappeared.”

“Sounds like a him problem.” you shrug.

“Are you drunk?”

You give him a look, a lazy smile making it onto your face.

“Where did you get that?”

“You know this is the most you've spoken to me since I've known you.” you take a note out loud.

He ignores you though. “You're gonna have one hell of a hangover tomorrow.”

“Sounds like a me problem, no?”

“God, you're such a brat,” he groans, “And get off the ground, you're gonna get sick.”

Snorting, you shake your head. “You're acting just like my brother.”

“You're irresponsible.”

That causes you to get a whiplash from how fast you glare at him. “I am not. Y'all act as if I can't do things on my own. Not only does my brother try to control me and watch over my shoulder every goddamn minute, you started doing it too!”

“He's worried about you.”

“Whatever,” you grumble, “Go back to blondie and leave me alone. Or snitch to my brother about my whereabouts, I'm sure he will get me out of here.”

He stays though. He doesn't move and doesn't speak for a moment. Instead, he sighs and sits next to you. 

“I wanted you to have fun.”

“Well, that didn't work, did it?”

“Look at you,” he chuckles, nudging lightly on your shoulder. “You seem to have fun on your own.”

“Yeah, spending Valentine's Day alone on the balcony of my brother's best friend is just so much fun.”

He laughs. He actually laughs and gives you an approving nod once he realizes you're right. “You're not alone anymore.”

You give him a look but before he can elaborate, he motions toward the bottle in your hand with his head. 

“Give me that.”

“No, this is the only fun I have.”

“C'mon, I will drink with you.”

Your surprise comes out before you give him a suspicious look. “You will?”

“Yeah.” he agrees and takes the bottle you hesitantly give him.

He takes a small sip, not a few gulps as you expect him to. “Is that all you got?”

“For tonight, yeah.”

“Why?” you question.

“I will take you home.”

You scoff, but then he continues. 

“After you decide you wanna go home.”

“Really?” Your surprise makes it out again. “You're not gonna kick me out?”

“I would never kick you out.” 

You make a face, “But my brother–”

“Your brother can be a dick sometimes.”

“Woah.”

“Don't act like you don't know it.”

“I do, but I'm just surprised you're the one saying it.”

He sets the bottle on the other side of him. It doesn't go unnoticed by you but you decide not to fight with him, especially once you feel the alcohol doing its job. 

“Well, I've seen it from his side and I gotta be honest, he's protective. Sometimes overly but he's not doing it because he hates you, y'know?”

“I know he doesn't hate me,” you inform him. “It's just annoying sometimes.”

“But now I've seen more of your side and he should just let you live.”

You nod in appreciation with lips pursed, “Wow, thank you.”

He smiles, “You still do a lot of stuff just to get back at him. You're not making it any easier, huh?”

You laugh, “It's my rebellion.” 

You sit there for a moment in complete silence. Jungkook stands up and leaves. You act as if you're not disappointed but before you can reach for the bottle that Jungkook has left here, the door slides open again and Jungkook wraps a blanket around you. 

“Don't look so surprised.”

“Wow, JK does something nice for a girl?”

“I can do a lot of nice things.”

“Is there a double-meaning or?” you trail off, causing him to laugh as he shakes his head.

“Not like that.”

Yeah, because you're his brother's best friend.

Not that you would ever want something with him. Only in your most secretive dreams but that's beside the point. Jungkook is not boyfriend material. You've seen it today more than ever. But you can't deny that he attracts you in the weirdest way possible. You have never experienced that with anyone. 

He's your type. When it comes to looks. And you're slightly ashamed to admit that some of his behavior attracts you. Basically, it's a red flag but what do they say? I'm color blind?

“How are you not freezing?”

It's February and you're sitting on a balcony. 

“I'm drunk.”

God, you're going to end up sick. Even your drunk self scolds you. 

“You wanna go home?”

“Not yet.”

He nods, not protesting as you both stare ahead. Your thoughts run wild, even in their slow pace because of alcohol flowing in your system.

“I was so annoyed because today's Valentine's Day,” you start, chuckling at yourself. “At first I thought I was just annoyed because everyone's in love and everything about today is about love. I do think it's overrated though.”

“I don't know, I never cared about it to be honest.”

You laugh, “Did you make today's party for all anti-romanticists?”

“No, I would've done it either way.” he chuckles. 

“Did you ever make something romantic for Valentine's Day?”

He makes a face, frowning but silently laughing amusingly at the thought of it. “No.”

“You know what? I think I was more annoyed that secretly maybe I crave for something romantic. Not necessarily a relationship.”

“Or maybe you just feel the pressure of today's ridiculous holiday and people around you.”

You snort, “You're just saying that because you're not in love.”

“Love's not for me. Not that kind at least.”

“And what kind?”

“I loved our family dog.”

You laugh, “That's different. I'm not talking about that.”

“I know you don't. Just sayin', love has all forms.” 

You hum, sighing before you start shivering. 

“Come on, let's go inside. You're freezing.”

“But–”

“We don't have to go home.”

“Or maybe I should. I'm getting tired. And I think I'm gonna throw up.”

“You were mixing hard liquor with wine. You will.” he agrees and once you nudge him, he laughs at you. “C'mon, you little brat. It's time to go home.”

As he makes sure you don't fall on the stairs, giving you the support you almost stumble when your brother makes his way toward you, breathless and relieved once he sees you.

“Where the hell have you been?! I've been looking for you everywhere. We've been looking for you! Why do you have the blanket?”

“Found her on the balcony.”

“What were you doing there?!” He screeches.

“Don't worry, I wasn't going to jump. But if I'm gonna have to keep up with your annoying ass for one more second, maybe I will.”

“You're drunk.” He scoffs.

“And honest.” you add.

“And where are you going?”

“I'm gonna take her home.” Jungkook answers, helping you with the last step as your brother stares with mouth wide open. 

“Like the hell you will! You were drinking.”

“I wasn't,” he responds. “Not since I was with her anyway.”

“Doesn't mean you don't have alcohol in you.”

“I don't. I'm fine.”

You didn't even realize he wasn't drinking anymore. God. You really can be a pain in the ass too. But that's your brother's doing though. He should've never ordered Jungkook to look after you. 

“You're the one who reeks of alcohol,” Jungkook informs him calmly, “Or you want someone else to take her?”

He shakes his head, still hesitant. He walks closer to you and wraps the blanket tighter around your form. “Are you gonna be fine?”

“Yeah, I trust Jungkook. Don't you?”

“I do.” He doesn't hesitate. 

He gives one final nod to Jungkook as he leads you out of the house. As you're walking out of it, you spot blondie with a group of what seems like her friends, glaring the shit out of you. You stick out your tongue when Jungkook's busy opening the door for you. The look on your face causes you to smirk.

Jungkook gets you inside his flashy car and you're kinda doomed that you're too drunk to look around and appreciate the expensive type of vehicle. You're drifting in and out of your consciousness. But you notice Jungkook stopping in front of a convenience store, informing you he'll be right back. And he is. It seems like he's been gone for a minute because you close your eyes, open them and he's already there.

The drive and walk to your home is quick. You get to walk on your own, much to your embarrassment there are no accidents of stumbling or falling. As soon as you make it past your doormat, you make it inside your bathroom and throw up in the sink. It's embarrassing once you hear Jungkook behind you, helping you with your hair. He doesn't say anything, just letting you throw up everything that's currently in your stomach. 

“I should take a shower.”

“Fuck that. Go lay down. I will lock the door.”

“Lock?”

“Your brother gave me his spare keys.”

“Oh.”

After a few minutes of bickering, you still insist on taking a shower. Jungkook sighs and lets you do your own thing, patiently waiting in the living room. Once you make it out in your pajamas that consist of your brother's huge t-shirt, you find him scrolling through his phone. 

“You gonna be fine?”

“Yeah, yeah.” You're seconds from passing out. You might've stumbled in the bath a few times but you hope he didn't hear that. 

You drag your feet to your bedroom and fall onto bed. You'll cover yourself later. As soon as you lay down, you ignore your spinning head and the disgusting taste of vomit that is still present, even though you've brushed and rinsed your teeth even in your drunken state.

The night is wild.

You throw up a few times, finding a prepared bucket beside your bed but unfortunately, you don't make it into it the first time. Once you wake up with a messy and aching head, you notice vomits on your floor and you cringe at yourself. Disgusting. 

You wake up around twelve, finally in a better state to leave your eyes open without having to vomit everywhere. You're about to reach for your phone, knowing you're going to have at least a dozen messages from your brother. But you stop yourself as you stare at things that weren't on your nightstand before.

There's a glass of water. A box of painkillers and a chocolate bar wrapped in a package filled with pink and red hearts. 

There's a note stuck to it. 

'Happy Valentine's Day, JK'

You stare, reading the note over and over again. 

And they say romance is dead.

[lulunothulu]

Hii! Could you do a story (either with hangman, Tyler or glen) where him and the reader are in their early stages of relationship but other girls don’t repeat her and just flirt with him. And she’s insecure and wonders If he even wants to be with her? Angst but of course a happy ending :) love your stories!!!

Omg! Hi!!! I'm so sorry I'm just seeing this. I can definitely write this! Thank you for sending this in! (Let's do Glen bc I feel like he'd be the one to really reassure us that we're enough for him.) For the sake of this fic, he's promoting a Top Gun 3 movie.

"You're all I want"

Glen Powell x Reader

Glen said this would only take an hour, maybe two, to do and then you could go to the hotel room and relax.

It'd been weeks of going on talk shows and talking about the experience of storm chasing, flying planes, and working with Tom Cruise. And every time you were back stage, happy to see your boyfriend in his element. What you didn't like was when you both went to local bars with the rest of the Top Gun 3 cast and girls would throw themselves at him. They'd push you aside and even ignore the fact you were there.

No, this wasn't the glamorous part of this life...of being with Glen.

Glen always made a point to pull you back into a conversation, but after a while, you felt like he really only did it out of pity.

The girls that would go up to him were gorgeous. Models, actresses, etc. And even though you knew he was with you, it still made you feel less than them.

What could he want with me? He could have anyone else, but he chose me?

Cut to now, you're sitting at the bar, watching Glen talk to a gorgeous woman from afar. She's slender, tight dress outlining the curves and obvious toned abs from where you sit. Her long jet black hair makes her eyes pop and she's got a hand on Glen's arm, laughing at something he's said.

I remember when that was me.

You sadly sip at your drink, rubbing your temple with your other hand when you lean on it. From behind you, you feel someone tap your shoulder and smile when you see your bff smiling at you.

"What're you doing over here all alone?" she asks.

You sigh. "Just drinking."

"Mind if I join you?"

You nod, gesturing for her to join you. You know she's saying something, but you're eyes and focus are locked on the model and Glen. They're so close and in (what looks like) an intimate conversation, they look like they're together.

They look better together than you and him do.

"Hey," she says, touching your arm. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, just tired." You look down at your phone, 12:45 AM. "I think I'm just gonna head back to the hotel."

"What, are you sure?" she asks. "I can come with you."

"No, you stay. Enjoy the party." You look at Glen who's smiling and laughing with a group of girls now. "Enjoy it more than I am."

She follows your eyesight before shaking her head and taking your hand. "He loves you, you know."

"I'm sure he does," you say sadly. "Let him know I left, okay?"

She nods, smiling at you sadly before turning to where Glen is. You don't stick around long enough to see what happens next. Instead, you walk out of the bar/club and hail a taxi to take you back to yours and Glen's hotel.

The whole drive back, you feel your phone vibrating like crazy but you don't care. You don't feel like talking to anyone at the moment. The feeling of dread and a deflated sense of self-love courses through your veins and all you want to do is get to the hotel.

By the time you reach the hotel, you're exhausted but you push yourself to pack everything that's yours around the room. You planned on flying back home tomorrow and Glen would be too tired to notice you've gone.

Maybe that's what he needs. To see you gone so he can be with those pretty models.

You pick up all the clothes that are yours, stuffing them in to your suitcase before walking into the bathroom. The tears are flowing freely down your face now. Nothing and no one could've stopped them from falling.

He probably didn't even notice I left the bar.

"How could I be so stupid?" you mutter to yourself.

You felt like the world as you knew it was spinning out of control, nothing was going right, not even the one constant in your life.

Glen.

You hear the door to the hotel open and wipe the tears away from your cheeks. You look in the mirror when you hear footsteps approach you.

"Y/N?" Glen soothes. "Why'd you leave? Are you crying?"

"I'm fine," you lie, stuffing your toiletries in your bag. "Just tired."

"Where are you going?" he asks, watching as you finish packing your things.

"I'm leaving in the morning."

"Where?"

"Home." Your voice is firm, almost harsh. You knew it would feel like a slap in the face for Glen. God, you hated feeling like this.

"Why, darling?" he asks, walking toward you. You try to push past him but he takes your arm, pulling you to his body in a tight hug. "What's wrong? Talk to me."

"Glen, I don't want to talk right now because I'll cry. So please, just let me go."

"Not until you tell me what's wrong. I don't care if you cry. Just please," He starts, now growing worried. "Please talk to me."

You look up at him, his handsome face painted in full on worry. You hated seeing him like this.

"Am I enough for you?" you ask quietly.

"Why would you even ask that?" he asks, pulling you in for a hug again. His head rests on yours when he says, "Of course you're enough for me. What brought this on?"

You sob then, shoulders shaking and voice cracking. "I'm just tired of feeling like you don't care if I'm around. I feel like you'd be better off without me around."

"Never. I'd never be better off without you around, Y/N." Glen tells you. "You're my biggest supporter, the woman I look for when I need to calm myself. I never want you to leave."

You scoff before muttering, "I'm sure the girls that fawn over you would appreciate that."

Glen pulls you back at that. His green eyes search yours, hurt and recognition fills them. "Is this what all this about?"

You nod. "Partly."

"Go on, baby. Tell me what's wrong."

You sigh. "I just feel like with all of these gorgeous women around, you'll look at me and think you can do better. I'll never be one of those models or actresses. I'll never look like that."

"And that's why I love you," he says.

"You think I'm ugly?" you cry out.

"No! No," he chuckles, pulling you in for a hug again. "I mean, they may be pretty, but you are who I chose. I chose you not only because you're gorgeous, but because you have a good heart. Those other women, they may be pretty on the outside, but on the inside they're ugly, materialistic, and vain."

Glen pulls you back, cupping your face in his large hands before kissing your lips softly.

"Y/N, you're all I want," he tells you. "All I'll ever want, and all I could dream of. You're beautiful, smart, and funny."

He smiles down at you. "All of those other women, are nothing compared to you. And do you know why?"

"Why?" you hiccup.

"Because I chose you. Not them. You," he tells you. His whole body screams genuine, hell, even his eyes are a changing color to show how much he means it. "So don't leave. Stay, be by my side for the rest of this tour. After, we'll go on vacation and just be together."

"Okay," you tell him, nodding softly. "Just, please don't forget about me."

"How could I?" he smiles. "You're not only my calm, but my reason to breathe. I can't go anywhere without you."

"I love you, Glen."

"I love you more, Y/N."

Whew...don't mind me. I need to stare at a wall and imagine Glen holding me.

[legandairy-horror]

Does anyone else feel a strange sort of dread waiting for new deltarune chapters?

It sounds crazy right? I admit it's a weird feeling for sure, and I'm not even 100% sure if dread is the right way to describe it. But as more info is revealed and the next chapter inevitably gets closer and closer to releasing I can't help but feel a strange sort of, melancholy? Longing? The only way I can describe it is "when you know the goodbye is coming". The strange somber feeling when you know you’re going to have to leave stuff behind, but aren't quite ready for it yet.

warning: words. Homestuck

In 3 months Chapter 1 will be 6 years old, and in 2 months Chapter 2 will be 3 years old. Deltarune is ostensibly in Early Access but this release schedule puts new chapters closer in time scale to whole sequals if anything, which they most assuredly are not trying to be. This has created a strange situation in the fanbase that I don't think I've ever truly seen anywhere else. One where, In the time between chapters It feels like everyone has had their own chance to decide what Deltarune is to them. To create their own version of this story, to write their own themes that they want to see explored, to imagine their own events and plot twists they want to see play out.

@lynxgriffin Paper Trail Comic Being an Alternate Story following off of chapter 1

@lilybug-02 The Chara Timeline Being one of many interpretations on the popular Asriel & Chara roommates headcannon.

@huecycles Andromeda Chapters being their interpretation on the full game

The innumerable Deltarune Theorists and analysts like HalfBreadChaos, Andrew Cunningham, Stuffed Alpaca, etc. etc.

@vyletbunni Deltatraveler being a whole ass fangame based around a chapter 2 meme that it has long since outlived

And that's kinda the thing isn't it? Once more deltarune comes out, a ton of these projects will just become outdated, it's an inevitability. So what will happen to them? will they become forgotten? maybe, maybe not, it's impossible to tell. but either way it feels kinda sad to think about yknow? that one day all the time and effort spent and all the memories made might one day just cease to exist.

There's a lot more I could say on this topic if given the chance but to keep this tumblr post from morphing into a 2 hour long video essay in text form let me leave off with this.

In the age of the internet and social media there will always be a fan of something. Nothing truly dies quite like it used to anymore, regardless of whatever influencers want you to believe. But that doesn't mean things stop changing, that there wasn't a past that has since been left behind. I'm a Homestuck fan. more specifically I'm a Late Homestuck fan, one who came in after the comic had already ended and it's peak in popularity was long behind it. The fandom's still around all these years later. But it'd be foolish to admit that, 8 years after the comics controversial end, the inescapable trend of new fans replacing old fans has left the fandom wholly disconnected from the monolith that it once was. the only remnants of which lie in decades old discourse and fanfiction. Like old relics of a long forgotten city, waiting to be excavated under a fine layer of dirt.

Before I close out here I just want to make it clear: I'm not saying that we should be trying to return to some nebulous "glorious past" that never really existed. I'm not trying to deride Toby Fox for not working in the sweatshop hard enough to produce more content™, or whatever you wanna try and spin-doctor this post into. It's just a thought that creeps into my head every now that I wanted to share, see if anyone feels the same, yknow?

Besides it's not all doom and gloom. For those of you OG Homestucks who read till the end. You remember Heinoustuck? Guidestuck? Nightfall? Fucking Ke$haStuck? yeah those are still going by the way! after years of inactivity they've now started back up again. some under new authors and some by the same author but still!

You could say a lot about that but to me at least, it makes me feels hopeful in a way. That, even if not everything will survive. we'll at least have some mementos to remember what came before.

[spiderwcd]

sense | c.b.

pairing: colby brock x medium ! f ! reader

summary: colby meets a new medium for their video, but he didn't expect to have a crush on her 

w.c.: 5.4k

warning(s): talk about paranormal, creepy activity, a lil steamy moment

a/n:  like sleep tight, the hauntings are made up and the story line does not exist. i do want to add that, i suck at writing a lot of like investigative stories so please don’t judge me. also I had requests for this type of story, ironically I was already working on it so hope you guys enjoy it

images from pinterest !

"Is anyone gonna join us?" Colby asked, packing his camera into his bag. 

"Actually, yeah, some girl that Celina referred from the home town," Sam replied. "She's supposed to be a medium." He added. 

The two guys finally we're going to investigate the infamous orphanage that is supposedly haunted by the spirits of the children that died. They had finally done the research and were ready to go investigate. 

"Cool, what's this girl's name?" Colby inquired. 

"Uhm, I think it's y/n?" Sam stopped to think, pulling out his phone. "Yeah, I texted her this morning letting her know we're going to catch a flight there, she's our ride." Sam chuckled, putting away his phone into his pocket. 

Colby let the name sit in his brain for a little, hoping to remember it later. It wasn't long before they were on their flight there. It was quite a while, editing and looking over their notes. 

When they landed, Sam kept searching for her face and Colby totally lost who they were supposed to look for. Sam's eyes soon lit up, recognizing her in the crowd. He waved at her, bringing her attention towards them. 

Colby finally noticed who they looked for, catching a glimpse of her. He felt his body heat up, flustered at her beauty. She was gorgeous, her hair running down her shoulders and her smile radiating through the crowds of people passing, he was surprised he didn't notice her earlier. She'd look like your typical medium, having a great style in all black, wearing an oversized band shirt, black sleeves underneath that hung over her jeans. 

"Hey guys!" Y/n greeted them, hugging Sam then moving over to Colby.

Colby felt his heart flutter and couldn't help but take her scent in, practically intoxicating. As she pulled away from her embrace, Colby couldn't help but feel disappointed. She offered them a smile and a hand with their luggage, but they declined the help. 

They moved their things into her car, ready for the trip over to their hotel. On the way there, she played music that practically matched Colby's taste. He felt as if he found his soulmate then and there. 

Sam kept asking her about herself and getting to know her. 

"So tell me, what type of medium are you?" Sam wondered. "If you don't mind me asking, of course." 

"It's okay, I like answering these, well, it's weird but I sorta have different types of abilities," Y/n began, steering the wheel. "I can let spirits communicate through me, so I'll channel them into my consciousness, letting them talk." She answered. 

"Other abilities? like what?" Colby asked, curious as he leaned forward in his seat.

"Well, I'm sure you have other mediums with my ability to see beyond what you guys can see," Y/n chuckled, amused at their curiosity. "I sort of have a heightened sense and I can see actual spirits walking around and hear whispers." 

"You know, I think you're the only medium we met who can just surrender themselves to let spirits talk through them." Sam chuckled. 

"Oh well I don't do it often, only with spirits I trust." Y/n added. 

As she finished her sentence, they had finally made their way to their hotel. It didn't take long before the three of them were inside the room, talking about random stuff. Colby couldn't help but watch her as she laughed and moved around the room. 

"What's so interesting about Nebraska?" Sam joked, starting a conversation. 

"If i'm being honest," Y/n sighed. "Nothing." She laughed. 

"Oh, that's great," Sam laughed back. "I don't want to get into the video already, but tell me, why is Nebraska so significant with orphanages?" He continued, pulling out his camera and beginning to record. 

"Well, do you guys know about the Orphan Train Movement?" She asked, leaning back on the bed she sat on. 

"No, never really heard of it." Colby replied, shaking his head. 

"Well, Nebraska is like the center of all the railways, so in the 1850's all the way until the 1920's, people would send orphans on the train from like the crowded East Coast cities into the midwest, mostly Nebraska," Y/n explained. "So, we used to have a lot of orphanages just like Haven Orphanage." She continued. 

"Really? that's really interesting." Sam commented, facing the camera towards her. 

"Yeah, again I don't really have much knowledge about it but that's what I know," Y/n corrected. "Hopefully the guide will explain it better." 

Y/n decided it's best if she lets them settle in, letting her also collect herself and prepare for their investigation. she said her goodbyes before leaving. She had to admit, she had a crush on Colby for a while. But she didn't want to feed her delusions and say he felt the same, telling herself he was probably being friendly. 

When she had left, Sam turned over to colby. 

"You so have a crush on her." Sam laughed. 

Colby turned red, covering his face, "Shut up." He muttered. 

"Hey, I just never seen you so quiet around a girl," Sam admitted. "Come on, you gonna make a move?" Sam enticed him.

Colby sighed for a second, looking at his best friend, "I-i don't know, she's only being nice, I don't want to embarrass myself and get rejected." 

"Really? Colby Brock getting rejected? Haven't seen that happen yet." Sam teased. 

Colby rolled his eyes, playfully. "Whatever, let’s just focus on this investigation for now." he averted the subject. 

Sam just gave him a look, as if it wasn't over just yet. He agreed to his friend's idea, pulling out his notes and taking more notes. 

Six o'clock came a lot earlier than they hoped, making their way to the orphanage. As they pulled into the building, they noticed y/n already waiting out front for them. Colby felt his heart beat a bit faster seeing her there. He examined her outfit and her demeanor, admiring her. 

They began making their way up towards the front doors, seeing the guide also there. It didn't take long for y/n to turn around and notice them, putting a smile on her face and her heart to melt a bit seeing colby. 

"What's up guys?" Y/n offered them a smile. "I was just talking to Morgan here about the building." She pointed towards the other woman. 

They greeted their guide, offering a warm greeting. They all introduced themselves, joking and laughing a bit. 

"Well, are you guys ready for the tour?" Morgan asked them. 

"Yeah, for sure lead the way." Sam nodded, following her. 

"Well this building was built in 1863, it was originally an orphanage named Haven Orphanage for Moved or Unwanted children," Morgan started, pointing towards the building. "It's said to be haunted, due to cruel conditions like overcrowding and shortage of supplies. The government didn't really want to pay for any orphanages, unfortunately causing it to be absolute hell for the children and staff." She continued, clasping her hands together. 

"Yeah, off the bat I already feel like some negative energy," Y/n motioned with her hands towards the building. "Like I feel a negative spirit lurking." 

"Yeah, so that you're feeling is Ruby," Morgan clarified. "She was one of the staff, she was very cruel to the children and it's rumored she sold her soul to the devil for the place to keep standing, but unfortunately she passed away from unknown causes." She continued. 

Everyone looked around, widened eyes painted on their faces. 

"Wow, okay so more demons." Sam chuckled.

"Well, it's not all bad energy," Morgan stopped him. "There's a lot of children spirits in here, they're rather playful and kind. But they do like to mess with you so don't get too scared from it." She added. 

"Wait, why am I kinda excited," y/n replied, covering her smile. "I never talked to children's spirits before." She admitted. 

"Well, it'll be a new experience for everyone then." Morgan chuckled, "Shall we start the tour then?" She suggested. 

The group agreed, making their way into the building. Immediately everyone looked around the place, noticing the different decor and admiring the ceilings. 

"So, as you can see, the building has a lot of character to it," Morgan pointed out. "But don't be fooled, there are a lot of dark corners of this building." 

Aas they went deeper into the hallway, they looked around seeing the admission office and different classrooms. 

"This was the classrooms, they would attend school here but the staff wasn't very kind," Morgan began. "A lot of the staff would use punishments that were unorthodox, like paddling which was spanking with a wooden paddle." She added. 

Colby looked over to Sam, "Maybe I should be punished." He whispered, causing y/n and Sam to laugh a bit. 

They soon wandered up the stairs, examining the stained glass on their way up. Y/n smiled as her eyes traveled around the beautiful structure, while Colby couldn’t help but watch her move and how beautiful she was. 

When they made their way up, they noticed the many bedrooms with bunk beds. As y/n began following the guide, she heard a loud metallic thump in one of the rooms. She jumped a bit, surprised by the sound. Unexpectedly, she jumped back into Colby's arms, causing her to become embarrassed. 

Colby's hands were wrapped around her for a moment before y/n, releasing her when she cleared her throat and looked down flustered. “Sorry, that just scared the shit out of me.” She muttered, placing a hand on her chest. 

“That's probably Billy,” Morgan mentioned, pointing towards one of the darkened rooms. “He likes to mess with tourists, he’s a prankster but he’s harmless.” She added. 

Y/n couldn't help but notice a small figure move out of her eyeline, causing her to swing her head towards the room. The guys followed her swift movements, examining the dark room. 

"Did you see something?" Colby asked her, looking back at her. 

Y/n tried focusing her eyes into the darkness, but nothing came up, "Could've sworn I saw something..." She whispered. 

As Sam pointed the camera towards the darkness, he zoomed into the room. "Well we definitely have to come back here for something," he commented. 

As they continued making their way further into the building, Colby couldn't keep his eyes off her. She was beautiful at every angle, he wanted to protect her from anything and everything. Y/n noticed his gaze, being a medium and all, and turned to him. Colby quickly averted his gaze off her, flustered yet again and awkwardly kept walking. 

Y/n blushes as well, trying to rationalize. She cleared her throat as she began making her way towards one of the bedrooms. 

"This was one of the girls' rooms," Morgan explained, pointing towards the different bedsheets of muted pinks and purples. "This doesn't have much activity besides a little girl who likes to sing from time to time, she's a rather sweet ghost." 

"Sam, this one should be your favorite," Colby teases, mentioning the Sallie house. 

Sam laughs, facing his friend, "I think I'm okay without another attachment." 

They all exchanged laughs as they averted their attention towards the sudden faint sounds of footsteps, followed by the rocking chair in the corner slowly creaking as it rocked back and forth. 

They went silent, looking at each other and back at the scene. But the chair just ceases its movements. 

"Okay, what the actual fuck." Colby whispered, covering his mouth in shock. 

Y/n felt a cold touch travel down her arm, as if someone swiped her arm. She looked around, trying to find the source. She felt a faint whisper in her ear, a name. 

"That was the little girl, her name is Beth if you would like to talk to her." Morgan suggested.

Y/n's jaw flew down, realizing what the name was. "You're kidding," she gasped. "I literally heard like a whisper or something with that name." She announced, crossing her arms as she felt the cold begin to engulf her. 

Sam and Colby turned to her, eyes widened in surprise. 

"Oh my god, maybe Beth wants to talk or something?" Sam considered, pointing the camera towards her direction. 

Y/n nodding, agreeing. She had experiences like this, but never this strong. She felt like her body was vibrating and buzzing with the constant movements and voices. 

"Are you okay?" Colby asked, furrowing his brows as he noticed her body shake. 

Y/n nodded slightly, closing her eyes as she took a deep breath. "Yeah just there's so much happening right now, I keep hearing different types of voices and seeing figures around the corner of my eye." She mentioned. 

Colby's eyes washed over with concern, having the need to protect her. "Did you want to take a break or anything?" He asked her, worry coated in his voice. 

Y/n smiled at his empathy, "I'll be okay, just my body is buzzing a bit, but thank you." She breathed out, flustered at his concern. 

Before they knew it, they had made their way to the darkest part of the building. The basement was where supposedly a lot of the children died from cruel punishments, creating a lot of angry spirits. 

"Okay, so before we make our way around," Morgan began, turning back to the group of people. "There is a lot of negative energy here, they will try to hurt you. People always leave here with scratches and even have been pushed off the stairs going to the basement." She warned. 

The group felt tense, nervous about what comes next. When they entered the dimly lit room, they could barely navigate through the dark basement as they stayed close to each other. 

Y/n heard something fall, causing her to jump forward and instinctively grab the person's hand. That person being Colby. She blushed as she realized who it was, clearing her throat and mumbling an apology. 

"It's okay," Colby assured, smiling but she couldn't see it. "You can hold my hand if you want, I'm sorta shitting bricks right now too." He chuckled, stretching out his hand to her. 

She felt her heart skip a beat, hesitantly reaching for his hand. As she grabbed onto his hand, she felt her body rush with electricity. Y/n was glad that the room was too dark to see her flustered face. 

"Alright guys," Morgan sighed, stopping under a lightbulb. "This was where most of the children actually died." She mentioned. 

Y/n felt a wave of sadness coarse through her body, her lip beginning to quiver. Colby looked over to her, seeing the glisten of her tears. 

"Hey, you okay?" He asked her, his brows furrowed with worry. 

"Y-Yeah, I just felt this wave of sadness," she sniffled in response. "like I feel them telling me something so horrible happened to them." She added. 

Colby felt sad to see her cry, wanting to wipe her tears away. Instead he gripped onto her hand firmly, reassuring her. 

Morgan nodded at her comment, "It was actually gruesome," she began. "The kids would be punished here, starved, even beaten. A lot of that resulted in death." 

Everyone in the group frowned, so much remorse for the poor children's lives that were lost. 

"But," Morgan cut in. "Like I mentioned before, there is an adult spirit who haunts here, Ruby. It's rumored she was murdered down here or the other theory was she was pushed out of one of the windows." 

They thought for a moment, feeling a cold chill rush through them causing them to shiver for a bit. 

"Did you guys feel that?" Sam asked, pointing the camera towards them, ignoring their grasp on each other. 

The two nodded, their eyes darting throughout the basement. 

"Man, I don't like the vibe I'm getting here." Y/n whispered, trying to inch closer to Colby. 

Colby agreed, lacing his fingers through hers as he pulled her closer to his body. He felt so protective of her, wanting her to be safe. 

"Yeah, we don't want to be down here for too long," Morgan began making her way back to the exit. "People get seriously hurt here." She added, sternly. 

Y/n's eyes widened, looking up at Colby. He looked back once he noticed her glance and smiled as he guided her towards the exit. 

Once they exited the creepy basement, y/n let go as she thought Colby wouldn't want Sam to see their hold, causing Colby to become disappointed. 

Morgan led the group towards the front of the building, Y/n walking alongside with her as Sam and Colby hung behind them. 

"Dude, I saw you guys down there," Sam smirked, grabbing Colby's attention. "You know, holding hands," He teased. 

Colby rolled his eyes as he flustered at his best friend's teasing, "So what?" He murmured. 

"Admit it, you like her, don't you?" Sam asked, wiggling his brows slightly. 

This only caused Colby to get more embarrassed, looking away from his best friend. 

Sam only chuckled, reaching the doors to the building as they parted ways with Morgan. They thanked her, offering her farewells, and advice. 

As soon as Morgan left, the group looked at each other. Y/n tried to avoid her gaze on Colby, not wanting to seem desperate for his attention. 

"Alright, I think we should use the spirit box," Sam began, rummaging through his bag. "And I have some toys that might interest the kids." Sam added as he pulled out various children's toys and the infamous Alice box. 

"Okay, sounds good." Colby agreed, nodding with the plan. 

Y/n bit her lip, trying to figure out something she heard in the building. She figured it was nothing, brushing it off slightly. They began making their way back towards the doors they just exited, seeing the dark hallways stretch down. 

Y/n froze for a moment, her eyes trying to adjust to the darkness. Soon, she started making her way towards the two who had already made it halfway down the hallway as they discussed plans. 

She tried to catch up to them, but stopped when she saw it. She stopped at the intersection of hallways, staring down the much larger hallway. 

Colby looked behind him, seeing y/n stuck in a trance like state. He made his way back to her, nudging her to see what's wrong. 

"Y-You guys don't see it don't you?" She whispered, her eyes glued on the other side of the barren hallway. 

Colby and Sam looked over to where she was staring, unable to locate the problem. 

"No, Y/n we only see the hallway." Colby shook his head, worry creeping into his skin. 

As Sam tried to begin his sentence, Y/n quickly cut him off. 

"Holy fuck, that thing just moved." Y/n whispered, her hands shaking a bit. 

"What? What did you see?" Sam asked, looking around the hallway. 

Y/n turned to the two, her eyes widened slightly. 

"Okay, as I was about to make my way towards you guys," y/n explained. "I stopped because I heard this whisper, almost telling me to come over here kinda. So I look down the hallway and I see this fucking thing, it was like tall and black and clothed with some weird black clothes, it kept staring at me even when you guys came over. Then it grinned and walked away." She elaborated, her voice beginning to shake as she covered her mouth a bit with her shaking hand. 

Sam and Colby look at each other for a moment, worried. 

"Yeah, okay so already a lot of shit is happening." Sam sighed, feeling a pressure build up in his chest. 

Colby nodded, licking his lips as he began to speak, "let's just get this investigation over with so we can leave," he suggested. "Are you okay to keep going?" He asked Y/n, his brows furrowed. 

Y/n nodded her head, exhaling a deep breath out. "Yeah, just that freaked me out but i'm sure it's nothing." She convinced herself. 

With that, the three made their way to one of the bedrooms, trying to contact one of the nicer spirits. 

"Okay guys, so we have the new Alice box," Sam pointed the camera to the machine. "It's like a spirit box, reading through channels and frequencies so the spirits talk through it." He explained. 

Y/n looked around the room a bit, examining the surroundings well. Colby couldn't help but stare at her face, watching as her eyes darted around. Y/n looked over to Colby's glance and Colby smiled a bit, causing her to blush yet again. She's lost track of how many times she caught him doing things that she keeps reading into. Clearly he's being friendly, but really how friendly?

"Okay let's ask some questions for the little girls that stay in this room." Sam began, clasping his hands after he turned on the small device.

"...hello?..." 

A female voice rang throughout the room, the echo bouncing off the walls. Y/n furrowed her brows, pulling out her notebook as she began to scribble words that came up in her mind. 

She stopped at the word, she looked down and thought of it for a moment. She noticed something, a pair of eyes on her notebook. But it wasn't a spirit, just colby snooping. She smiled a bit, turning her notebook over to Colby. 

He looked at her then lined the pieces of paper with the random ink on letters and drawings. As he read the words, suddenly the Alice box answered. 

"...chair..."

Colby's jaw hung open, looking over to Sam and the paper. Y/n's actions mimicking his. 

"Dude," y/n gasped, displaying her notebook to Sam and the camera. "I wrote that not even 2 minutes earlier, Colby saw it too." She explained. 

Sam’s mouth hung open a bit, shocked. "No fucking way." 

But before they could say anything else, the Alice box spoke again. 

"...girl..." 

"I mean, this is the girl's room." Y/n explained. The two guys nodded, still confused what the spirits are trying to say. 

"...man... hallway..." 

Y/n froze, goosebumps running down her body. "Oh my god, it's talking about that thing I saw." She whispered. 

"Do you know the thing that Y/n saw in that hallway?" Colby asked into the open air. 

The Alice box stayed silent for a moment, occasionally spewing random words that didn't make sense. But as they were about to turn it off, it spoke. 

"... can't say..." 

"Can't say? Why can't you say anything?" Y/n asked yet again, scribbling into her notebook. 

"...won't..." "...let us..." 

"He maybe has a hold on them," Sam suggested, rubbing his chin slightly. "It's possible it's a demon." He added. 

"...evil..." 

They looked at each other and didn't say anything for a moment, Y/n turning her notebook over to reveal the word written on the paper. evil. 

Then the rem pod near the door started going off, a chill running down Y/n's back as the room became cold.

"Okay, this is actually so freaky," Sam chuckled a bit, pointing the camera towards the door. "The rem pod went off after Y/n wrote evil AND the Alice box said evil." 

Y/n sat up, ears perking up a bit as she listened carefully to the air. "Okay, I don't know if it's just me, but the room went completely freezing, and I feel something negative in here." She blurted out. 

"Yeah, I feel the cold," Sam agreed. "Could it be that thing you saw earlier?" He inquired. 

Y/n shook her head, "No, that was like paralyzing fear," She noted. "This one.. it's just mad." She whispered out. 

Concern painted on Colby's expression, clearly reading her body language as uncomfortable. 

"Hey, maybe let's end it in this room," Colby proposed. "A lot more places to investigate." 

Sam nodded, reaching for the equipment as he turned it off. Y/n sat up, but quickly recoiled forward. Colby noticed it, confused. 

"You okay?" he asked, helping her stabilize herself. 

Y/n looked around as Colby held onto her arm. "Y-Yeah, just something pushed me," She answered. "like I was standing up, and I felt a shove on my upper back." 

The group quickly exited the room, making their way down to the basement. They were going to explore more of the place, but seeing how y/n kept being targeted clearly for her abilities they weren't comfortable making her go through it. 

The feeling of uneasiness returned, entering the frigid basement. The dim light still remained on, barely illuminating the space around them. 

"Alright guys, we're going to the basement," Sam mentioned into the camera, showing the dark room. "We're going to do the Estes method down here, Colby is going to do it today." he spun the camera towards Colby's direction, zooming into his face. 

"Wow, face of excitement right there." Y/n joked, causing Colby to break his monotone expression to light up with laughter. 

She felt her heart jump, hearing his laughter brightening her spirit up. She could listen to it all day if she could. Colby soon sat on the barren concrete floor, Y/n handing him the blindfold followed with the headphones. His hands brushing up against her, followed by a smirk on his face. 

She cleared her throat, backing away from him. 

"Alright Colby, can you hear us?" Sam asked, testing out the volume. Colby doesn't say anything, listening to the random static coming through the headphones. 

"Okay, whoever dwells in this basement, are you the supposed member of staff that passed away?" Sam questioned, awaiting Colby's answer. 

"Perhaps." Colby replied. 

"So it's a bit sassy." Y/n chuckled a bit followed by Sam's chuckles. 

"Well, is it true you did rituals to keep this place running?" Sam added. 

Colby stayed silent for a moment, trying to listen carefully to the voices ringing through. 

"Force." Colby blurted. "protect," he continued. 

They looked at each other, trying to decipher what was spoken. 

"What did you do to protect this building?" Y/n asked, furrowing her brows. 

"Colby." Colby said. "Crush." 

Sam looked over to y/n and smirked a bit, "I think it's speaking for you." 

Y/n smacked Sam playfully, a blush covering her face. 

"Kissing," Colby furrowed his brow under his mask. "Tree." 

Sam bursted into laughter, nearly dropping to the floor. Y/n covered her face with her hands, embarrassed. Colby, still oblivious to what's happening, is still spewing out words. Sam tapped him, alerting him to pull out of his trance. 

Colby removed his blindfold, followed by the headphones. He noticed Sam's laughter and Y/n's embarrassed face behind her hands. 

"What? What happened?" Colby asked, curious why Sam was practically rolling on the floor. 

Sam calmed down, wiping the tears out of his eyes. “It said kiss and then tree,” Sam coughed a bit. “It was teasing you.” He pointed towards Colby. 

Colby's face became warm, blushing until his face was red, “Yeah real funny, Sam.” Colby muttered with a sigh. 

Y/n cleared her throat, cheeks still flaming hot. "Well, let's just continue what we came here for." Y/n grumbled, her arms folded on her chest. 

Sam wiped his eyes, cooling down from his laughter. "Wow, that was too good."

Sam began making his way towards the stairs, leaving Y/n and Colby behind his trail.

"Sorry about him." Colby let out with a sigh, rubbing his neck. 

Y/n smiled up at him slightly, "I-Its okay, I know he's just teasing." She blushed. 

Colby simply nodded, not wanting to make her uncomfortable. It wasn't too long before they had explored the whole place, investigating where they could. But then the time to sleep in the actual building came, which y/n began overthinking about. She knew she agreed to sleep alone, but she was too scared after her encounter with that thing in the hallway. 

"Alright guys, it's time for us to split up and sleep in separate rooms," Sam urged. "We figured with the whole Y/n seeing the spirit in the hallway, we're going to sleep in rooms next to each other just to ensure safety." Sam explained. 

Y/n fiddled with her fingers slightly, anxiety beginning to heighten. She bit her lip as they began setting up camp in their rooms. She grabbed her sleeping bag, making their way towards one of the girl's rooms. her heart began beating against her chest as she sat on top of her sleeping bag, listening to every crack and noise around her. 

She rubbed her face, trying to distract herself from her thoughts. But then she heard a faint knocking on the window directly behind her. She just stared at the moonlight that illuminated through the glass in front of her. She quickly sat up, quickly walking towards the closed door. As she opened the door, Colby's chest pressed up against hers. She yelped as she got freighted by the unexpected visit. 

Y/n pressed her hand onto her chest, trying to calm herself down. "Holy shit Colby, you scared the fuck out of me!" She lightly slapped his chest. 

Colby chuckled a bit, trying to lighten up the mood, "Sorry, I couldn't sleep, plus I knew this was your first time staying alone in a haunted place so I wanted to keep you some company." He admitted. 

Y/n felt her heart softly flutter, touched by his gesture, "Yeah, I sorta kept hearing things, I was gonna go to you." She confessed. 

Colby smiled, glad she found comfort in his presence, "Mind if I sleep in the same room as you then?" He requested. 

"Not at all," Y/n quickly replied, walking back to her sleeping bag onto the floor. Colby followed, his pillow and sleeping bag in his hands. "I wonder if Sam is shitting himself alone." She chuckled as she hugged her knees close to her chest. 

Colby sat next to her as he laid out his temporary bed, chuckling at the comment, "He'll be fine," He waved off, "After he laughed at us,he can sleep by himself." 

Y/n laughed a bit, looking down towards the floor. Colby couldn't help but stare at her, admiring her features in the moonlight. She noticed his gaze, moving her attention back towards him. 

"W-What?" She asked him, confused. 

"Nothing," Colby shrugged. "You're just really beautiful." He whispered. 

She flustered as she looked away as her cheeks painted with a deep color, "Oh, stop it." She muttered, playing with her fingernails. 

Colby's fingers landed on her jaw, moving her to face back towards him. She looked up into his eyes, seeming to get pulled closer towards him. 

"Well, it's true," He added, but couldn't help but lean towards her lips as his eyes kept glancing to her eyes and back to her lips. "I couldn't stop staring at you all day," he revealed. 

She felt her body heat up, unknowingly pressing closer to him. "Well, maybe I knew," She replied, feeling his hand on top of hers. "Maybe I was staring too." 

With that, Colby's lips landed on her. She gladly accepted as her lips pieced together perfectly. Colby's hand laced with hers, like previously that night. He lightly held her face, his thumb rubbing her cheek.

But soon, Colby pulled away, leaving them panting as they rested each other's forehead on one another. Y/n couldn't help but smile and chuckle a bit, causing Colby to wonder. 

"What?" He wondered. 

"Nothing," She added, rubbing her thumb on his hand. "Just, there were at least three little girls in here giggling." She confessed. 

Colby let out a laugh, pulling away as he looked around the room, "Well, you guys should give us some space." He announced into the room. 

The next morning, the sun began to shine through their window. The rays of light hitting their eyes, causing their eyes to flutter open. Y/n was the first one to notice him, seeing his wide smile on his face. Sam pointed the camera at the two, giggling as he noticed her to wake up. 

Y/n looked over next to her, noticing the boy clung onto her as he laid onto her chest. She threw her pillow towards Sam, causing him to laugh loudly which woke up Colby. Colby rubbed his eyes, adjusting his vision to the bright room. 

"What the-." Colby grumbled, looking up towards y/n's tired face. 

"Dude, how long have you guys been cuddling?" Sam exclaimed, putting away the camera. 

"Shut up sam." Colby muttered, his head landing onto his pillow. y/n sat up, covering her face. 

"Sam, it's too early for this, can you please leave us alone." Y/n groaned.

"Fine, fine I'll let you love birds be." Sam teased, wiggling his brows a bit before he shut the door behind him as he left. 

Y/n looked over to Colby who was laying on his side. She smiled a bit, still exhausted. He returned the smile, still amazed by her beauty. 

"Does this mean you'd go out with me? or do you already know that I was gonna ask you out?" He finally asked. 

Y/n chuckled dryly, "Colby, I’m a medium, not psychic," She rolled her eyes playfully. "But yes, I will go out with you."

[singmyaubade]

No Longer Yours

James Potter x Female!Reader

IB: In The Cold November Rain by @sweetsweetjellybean (Make sure to check it out, it’s incredible and one of the best I’ve ever read !)

A/N: First, I wanna say thank you to @sweetsweetjellybean for letting me be inspired by her story even though I am stupid, lol, but seriously (not kissing ass), check her series out; it is fantastic. Thank you to everyone for the kind comments, reblogs, and likes. I'm overwhelmed with love, and I'm so thankful that people actually want to read more of what I write but anyways, enjoy!

Summary: James had disregarded you for multiple years, but when you have an epiphany in your final year, how does it feel to taste his own medicine?

Warning: It may contain swearing and soon-to-be smut.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

"Are you sure you don't want me to walk you all the way?" Your mother asked, squeezing your hand.

"I'll be fine," You caressed her hand, "I'm still your baby, though."

She laughed lightly, "Make sure to write always," She held your face with her hands, "Have fun; it's your last year."

You touched her hand on your cheek, "I will."

You hugged her one last time, taking in her scent. Every time you said bye to her, it was as sad as the first, without you crying and begging to stay.

"Okay," She smiled, taking her hands off your face, "Are you still sure you don't wanna wait for James here? I mean, you've done it all these years."

Little did she know, you had been ignoring James's letters, all 128 of them. He had been persistent, asking you what was wrong and begging for a reply to know you were safe.

You even received a letter from his mother, Euphemia Potter, asking how you were and everything was in Paris. You would never have it in your heart to ignore Ms. Potter, so you replied dutifully and happily.

And then you got a letter from him saying,

Dear Y/n,

Are you really going to reply to my mother and not me?

Sincerely,

Your BEST FRIEND, James Potter.

You didn't reply, scoffing at the bolded best friend. The last letter you received was last week, him telling you he couldn't wait to see you and wanted to talk as soon as he got to you.

Bullshit.

"Yeah," You gulped, "I'm just gonna meet him inside."

"Well, I'm sure he misses you," She started fixing your coat, "I mean, you have been in Paris all of this time, and I just think it would be good for you to-"

You cut her off, pecking her cheek, "Love you!" You yelled, going towards the train.

She shook her head, "Be safe!"

You smiled at her, going through the wall to the train. The feeling still felt the same, nostalgic. This was the last time boarding the train, and it felt sad.

You remembered the first time you ever boarded it. James was practically high on excitement on his first day at Hogwarts. You were scared out of your bloody mind, not wanting to leave your mum and dad.

When you had finally stopped crying and holding onto your mother's leg, James was the one to hold your hand and tell you that he would take care of you.

Maybe that was the first time you had realized James was more than a friend to you, or perhaps you were a naive child.

But either way, he was the one that you needed protecting from. You realized he hadn't been your friend since the fourth year.

But this year wasn't about James; it was about you having the best last year of Hogwarts that you could have ever had.

You boarded the train, moving through the compartments to where Marlene, Mary, Dorcas, and Lily usually were.

Compartment 222.

It was pretty lucky; it is where you guys first met.

You opened the compartment, "Did you guys miss me?"

They excitedly cheered, "Now tell me, Y/n, how many French boys did you end up shagging in France?" Marlene asked.

"I would say about thirty, oui oui." You joked in a French accent as they all started laughing.

You sat down next to Dorcas, giving her a side hug. You saw Lily and Mary whisper something to each other, to which Mary said, "Just say it!"

You could see Dorcas in the corner of your eye, shaking her head no aggressively. Apparently, Marlene was the only one not in the plan, continuing to look at her newsletter.

Your eyebrow raised, "Am I missing something?"

"It's really nothing," Lily nervously said.

"Okay, so what is it?" You laughed.

"Well," Lily fiddled with her fingers, "You know how you specifically requested that none of us tell James that you were replying to our letters and not purposely ignoring him."

You said, "Uhuh." Already knowing where this going.

"Well, I accidentally let it slip out over the letter you had spoken to Marlene and me." She admitted.

Your mouth agape, "Lily."

"I know, I know," She groaned, "It was a total accident."

"How do you accidentally slip something out over letter?" Marlene snorted, earning a glare from Lily, but she still looked at her newsletter.

"What did he say after?" You asked, kneading your forehead.

"Why is she ignoring me?" Lily answered, "I just said it was none of my business, nor was I involved."

The group stayed in silence, waiting for you to reply.

You sighed, thinking about how much James would bother you more now that he knew you ignored him.

"Are you mad at me?" Lily asked quietly.

"No, of course not," You smiled, looking at her, "I just don't want to talk to him and explain everything,"

"Who says you have to?" Mary asked.

You looked at her confused, "I just can't ignore him." You said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"And why not?" Marlene asked, now looking at you.

You opened your mouth to reply, but nothing came out. You thought about it harder, and why wouldn't you be able to ignore James? Maybe it was hard because you have never done it before.

"So I just don't reply when he tries to talk to me?" You asked.

"Well, I don't support this, but," Lily started, "You could always just walk away when he says something to you."

"Wouldn't that be mean?" You asked.

"What did I tell you in person and in the letter?" Dorcas asked as you looked at her.

"Give him hell."

"So do it." She said.

They were right; you couldn't keep explaining to James what he did wrong; you just had to be done with him. You missed your friendship, but it took a turn years ago; you never said anything.

And you had to start not caring about him.

"So, how was your guy's summer?" You changed the subject, grinning as Marlene went on about how she perfected her Quidditch skills and would finally be the best chaser at Hogwarts.

Then Lily talked about her poetry that she started over the summer and how her sister had ripped a few of them, but she fixed them with a single swish of her wand and appreciated magic more.

Mary talked about how many soap operas she had seen and how she might even go into it after she graduates from Hogwarts.

Lastly, Dorcas talked about how this year was her year to be a seeker and how she got a whole book collection from her sister in New Zealand.

You began talking about how you tasted so many new foods and learned a bit of French, showing off your knowledge of the profound language.

You were interrupted by someone opening the compartment doors, "Hello," Remus greeted as you stood up to hug him immediately.

He caught you as you almost made him fall over by the movement, "Remmy, how much I have missed you," You said, kissing him on the cheek.

"And Y/n, how was France?" He asked, smiling.

"Quite a bore; every man was all over me; I was getting exhausted," You exhaled, sitting back in your seat.

"Well, if you ever want to get with a real man, I'm here, Y/n," Sirius said, nudging next to you as you looked disgusted.

"Did you have to bring him?" Dorcas asked Remus, rolling her eyes.

"He insisted," Remus shrugged.

"There needs to be some form of restraining order against him by all of us," Mary sighed.

"I thought his STDs were enough of a restraining order for us to keep away from him," Marlene teased.

Sirius interrupted before another insult could be made, "Ladies, this Sirius Black hate train is honestly starting to hurt," He pretended to be hurt.

"Aww, poor baby," You said in a baby voice, pinching his cheek as he swooshed your hand away.

"Now, Y/n, why are you ignoring poor Prongs?" Sirius asked as you wanted to throw him out of the train through the window.

"I thought he told you to dance around the question," Remus snorted.

Sirius disregarded, "What did my poor, stupid boy do this time?"

"I'm afraid it's none of your business, Black." You simply said.

"It is my business when my friend is sulking and bringing down my mood," He explained, "So why are you upset with him?" He asked.

Marlene abruptly laughed, "I'm sorry, but he really thought you would be the one Y/n would say something to,"

Sirius fake-laughed, "Oh McKinnon, I'll be laughing like that when you fall off of your arse on the field,"

Marlene mocked his facial expression as he did the same thing to her.

"May I please just arrive in peace without one word of James Potter? I'm begging." You reasoned.

"Well, at least I can tell him I tried and that Moony was no help." He glared at Remus.

"I told you I wasn't going to talk to her for him; it was all up to you," Remus said as Sirius went outside, and Remus waved everyone goodbye before closing the doors.

You could already tell it was going to be a long year.

After finally sorting the first year, everyone was allowed to dine. One thing you always missed about Hogwarts was the fantastic food; it was always incredible.

You were sitting in between Remus and Dorcas when Remus abruptly got up.

"Where are you going?" You asked, mid-laugh from a joke Marlene had made about Dumbledore and McGonagall in their secret chamber.

"Don't kill me," Remus stated before leaving. You looked confused, and James took the spot in front of you. You rolled your eyes, turning back to your meal.

"Please talk to me, Y/n," James pleaded.

You continued to stay silent, not even giving him a look as you looked at Marlene. She shook her head, and you continued to eat.

"I just wanna know what I did," James begged.

When you still didn't respond, he grabbed ahold of your wrist in an attempt for you to look at him.

"Don't fucking touch me." You spat before getting up and leaving the dining hall, telling your friends you were just gonna meet them in the dorm.

You tried rushing to the common room, but James was behind you.

"Y/n!" He yelled, speed-walking after you.

You continued to ignore him, going to the common room until you were stuck with the singing lady at the door who would not give it a rest.

"You have to talk to me," James demanded while the lady continued to screech.

"I don't have to do a thing you say," You scoffed, "In fact, I would prefer if you screwed off and stopped talking to me."

You went to one of the corridors, trying to escape him, but he followed you.

"Can't you just explain to me what I could've done for you to treat me like this?" He said roughly.

You turned to him, "There is not a single, simple explanation of what you could've done; there is a book of things," You snapped, "And treat you like this? Ever since I fucking stepped foot into your life, you have continued to treat me like shit." You stepped closer, "I stuck with you despite Lily, despite what other people said, and despite what you have shown me."

He continued to stay silent, "And now that I finally stick up for myself, I've done you horribly? Bullshit." You spat, "You have continued to show me exactly why I will never ever love you again, and yeah, for a matter of fact, I did love you, but you don't deserve me and never will."

Your words shocked him, not being able to mutter a word.

"Now you have nothing to say?" You manically laughed, "The smooth-talking and fantastic golden boy that shocked the century has nothing to say? What a pathetic-"

He kissed you suddenly precipitously, his tongue entering your mouth, entangling with yours.

For a second, you were drunk on his mouth, engaging with his kiss with as much passion as he gave you. His hand pulls on your hair lightly, making you moan.

His lips went from your mouth to your neck, sucking hard, red marks into your skin, knowing it would bruise.

Then you remembered everything. You remembered James's bitter words, his voice mocking you, and the boys laughing in the locker room.

You pushed his hard chest off you, breathing hard from the whole interaction. He looked at you, breathing as hard as you; realizing what he had done, he tried to touch your hand, but you pushed him again.

Tears brimmed in your eyes, "You're such an asshole," You cried, going to the Gryffindor common room.

You rushed up the stairs, immediately going into your bed. You couldn't believe what had just happened.

A part of you wanted to be grateful, grateful that you pushed him off, and realized that he only wanted to be with you when he felt convenient.

Another part of you wanted to continue kissing him, laughing with him, hugging him. You knew it wouldn't be easy, but you had never figured it would be painful.

What if you had loved James for so long that you didn't know anything but to love him?

It was stupid and pathetic.

You were tired of being stupid and pathetic, you just wanted to move on from James Potter and get away from him, and if that wasn't possible, you had to make him regret being friends with you in the first place.

So you did.

You got up fresh and early in the morning when all of your roommates were sleeping, taking a shower immediately.

You looked in the mirror, your mascara smudged and dark red and purple hickies wearing your skin. You placed a shit-load of powder and concealer to cover up the parts you could.

You tried several spells to cover it up as best as possible, changing into your uniform.

You slipped into the most showing tights you could and wore your skirt from the fifth year that you so obviously outgrew, showing almost your ass cheeks.

You would be thankful not to get a write-up from McGonagall.

You unbuttoned two buttons off the top of your shirt, showing a tiny bit of your bra. It wasn't the most rebellious or seductive, but it could work.

The first challenge of that day was Potions; all of your friends were there, including all of the Marauders. But, thanks to Merlin was also Jacob Carrow's class, the Slytherin Captain that James hated with a burning passion.

They both could not be in the same room without spitting a hateful insult at the other. James once had a dream that you and Jacob had gone out, and he refused to talk to you for an entire day until you convinced him you would never do that.

You never considered yourself a liar.

The only problem was that Jacob was a dickhead, but so was James. You were surprised they didn't get along, maybe in another life.

You went inside Potions with your friend group, and you spotted Jacob Carrow in the back with an empty seat next to him as you told your friends you were gonna sit in the back.

You were thankful none of his friends were around him; it would be ten times more unbearable.

You sat next to him with a wide grin painted on your face, trying not to show your pain.

"Sitting next to me, Y/n?" He smirked, "I thought you were Potter's little puppy."

You tried to ignore your annoyance, "Pets tend to lean away from their owner at points; I guess that's my case." You shrugged.

"I am no Potter; I don't like having little girls follow me and do my shit for me." You could tell he was insulting you, but you stood tall.

"Good thing girls don't like to be in your presence." You snickered.

He smiled, "Love a kitty with claws," He leaned into his chair, "What do you want?"

"Do I have to want something?" You asked, popping your chest out to show your tits as he looked down at your face.

"You finally trying to make your boy toy jealous?" He asked.

You dropped the facade, "Are you gonna help me or not?"

"Control the temper, baby; I just wanna know what's in it for me." His body faced you.

"Isn't James being angry enough?" You asked.

"Nah, I can piss off Potter by just existing." He replied.

"What do you want?" You asked, half-annoyed.

"Meadows on a date with me."

You laughed, "Dorcas would never go on a date with you."

"Then no deal." He said with a fake smile.

"Ugh, fine, I'll talk to her if you just make James's life hell for a few minutes." You said.

"Okay, deal." He smiled, "Do you want me to touch you or,"

"Sure, but don't overdo it." You warned.

"I love when you flatter yourself." He said as James walked in, laughing with the Marauders.

Jacob immediately placed a hand on your thigh, slightly higher than preferred, but you continued smiling.

You started fake-laughing at Jacob's joke, which immediately caught James's attention. You looked behind you, and James's head looked like it would explode.

You looked back at Carrow, touching his shoulder and admiring how much muscle he had.

"What else do you want me to do?" He said through his teeth.

"I'll scoot closer to you, and you can put your hand on my waist." You suggested as he nodded.

You faced the front as Jacob touched your waist, tickling you with his fingers as you laughed.

"Mind keeping it down?" James scowled, "Not everyone wants to fucking hear that shit."

"How about you piss off, Potter?" Jacob mocked as he gripped your waist tighter, which pissed off James even more.

Before James could say another word, Slughorn started the class.

Throughout the class, Jacob would squeeze your thigh or tickle you, almost rising to touch your tits. Whenever he did those actions, you would giggle, earning daggers from James.

Once Slughorn instructed everyone to look inside their microscopes at the different ingredients used in Veritaserum, you took the opportunity to sit on Jacob's lap, looking in the microscope as he bounced you with his knee, causing you to laugh.

This really pissed James off, him storming up to you both. He grabbed your arm, practically flying you off of Jacob.

"Mr. Potter!" Slughorn yelled as the class watched the entire thing.

"Don't you dare fucking touch her," James said brusquely.

Jacob scoffed, "What will you do about it, Potter?" He stood, going closer to James.

You rolled your eyes due to the amount of testosterone in this conversation.

James got closer as you grabbed his hand, pushing him back, "Stop it." You said to him as he looked at you.

He grabbed your wrist, dragging you out of the classroom to an abandoned bathroom.

"James, let go of me!" You yelled as he pushed you inside the bathroom.

He was fuming, and you could tell which scared you. You hadn't seen him this angry since he lost a Quidditch match against the very man's lap you were on.

"You dragged me in here, so is there something you have to say?" You looked at him angrily, hands on your hips.

"Us not being friends anymore doesn't allow you to be a slut," He ridiculed.

You slapped him, "Don't you fucking dare call me a slut; I can do whatever the fuck I want,"

He wiped his mouth with a smile, "You think he gives a shit about you? He would fuck you and then dump you." He said as he moved closer, and you backed up.

"You don't know a thing," You replied nervously.

"He wouldn't even clean you up after," He continued, "He would let you rot there like a slut," Another step closer, which you took backward. You didn't understand if he purposely tried to intimidate or lecture you.

He didn't stop.

"He would tell all of his friends after," Another step, "He wouldn't dare spare you a minute after," Another step, "You would mean nothing," You were backed into the wall now, "But it's okay because you can do whatever the fuck you want."

"James." You kept eye contact with him, his eyes beaming into yours.

His mouth lowered to your ear, "But I think you want me to give a shit; you wanna see me mad." His hand snaked to your waist, "I guess you win." His body left yours, storming out of the bathroom.

Did you really win?

A/N: Y/n: 2, James 0??? There is also an alternate chapter to this because I couldn't stop writing two plots LOL.

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