#I still don’t think he’s the betrayer I know he’ll be back

[antiquepearlss]

I can’t imagine how awkward and uncomfortable the first few weeks post-betrayal must have been for Hugo.

Because yeah, in the heat of the moment after being saved, Varian forgives Hugo. But what about after? No matter how much Hugo apologizes and swears he is loyal to him, that’s such a massive tear in trust. Varian can’t possibly fully forgive and trust him again, no one can. Of course, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t love him.

So, they’re a couple, their quest is complete, Nuru and Yong are back home, everything is settled, what now?

Hugo needs to find himself. He needs to figure out who he is aside from a thief. He has a family now, but unfortunately this family doesn’t fully trust him. He has a boyfriend now, but they have a long way to go before they can go back to what they were before and grow as a couple.

Varian spends a lot of time with him but he is clearly uncomfortable sometimes. He sizes him up. Questions what he says a lot more. He doesn’t like having Hugo out of his sight but at the same time, doesn’t really want to be around him all the time. He’s still mad and hurt. It’s like when they first met, but much more bitter because of their previous trust. They have a lot of conversations and it doesn’t take too long to build the trust back up, but now that they’re in a relationship it will take awhile to fully figure that out as well. They still have a lot to learn about eachother, especially in this environment that is completely foreign to Hugo yet so familiar to Varian.

It doesn’t help that Quirin and Eugene are both likely very, very hesitant to accept Hugo into their family. Quirin sees too much of Donella, the woman who took his wife away from him, in Hugo. And naturally, he doesn’t feel comfortable with his son dating a thief who betrayed him.

And Eugene sees way too much of Flynn Rider in Hugo. He’s everything he used to be, everything he hates about himself. A shifty, conniving, loner thief who only cares about himself. Of course he’s against the idea of someone like that dating his baby brother. What if their relationship is toxic? What if Hugo betrays Varian again? What if Hugo breaks his heart again? What if Hugo leaves him at the altar like he did?

Lance and the girls may be pretty accepting, but even they don’t fully trust him. Honestly, I think Rapunzel would be the only one to fully trust him and gladly give him a chance. But even she has her suspicions and doubts. She won’t let Varian get hurt on her watch ever again. 

I think the first few months are very scary and lonely for Hugo. He’s in an unfamiliar environment filled with people that it feels like are waiting for him to fail. They aren’t, they’re naturally suspicious, for good reason, which is worse. He feels guilty constantly. He’s scared. Scared Varian will leave him, scared he’ll mess up and return to his old ways, scared he’ll get thrown out without getting to say goodbye, scared Varian will never trust him again, scared he will be thrown into the dungeons, scared something will happen and he will get blamed. He’s scared, and he doesn’t know who to go to because it’s his fault, right? And he’s lonely because his and Varian’s relationship is still a little strained and they’re trying to figure things out. He has no friends here and all of Varian’s friends and family don’t like him or trust him. Sure, Lance and the princess are friendly, but he can tell they are hesitant to fully befriend him. Quirin is clearly uncomfortable around him. And Eugene despises him.

I think Rapunzel is the first to fully bond with him after Varian, and she helps him adjust to castle life. Eventually, Eugene bonds with him, and helps him adjust to leaving his old thieving ways behind. And maybe he can bond with Cassandra, who helps him cope with the pain of betraying your close friends. And of course Lance is happy to have a new buddy, and the girls are happy to have a new victim. And Quirin does, eventually, see Hugo as his son.

It’s a rough first month or so, but he gets the hang of it, and bonds with his new family.

[maul-of-shame]

The hate is not fair. They say Elrond kissed his mother-in-law, but that's not true in the show, and they're very close and intimate already from the first episode. Why is it okay for Galadriel to fall in love with Sauron, but not Elrond? Because it goes against the concept of Elven marriage? Oh but not when it comes to Sauron? Yeah no, they have biases.

Celeborn is still gone, and his contributions in the lore kinda stop after the fall of Eregion, so he can stay gone for all I care. Also, Elves usually make babies during peaceful times, so I doubt Celebrían will show up in the show.

Tolkien already thought about Elrondriel, it was just a note (published in The Treason of Isengard), but he thought about it. I don't think he would be horrified by that possibility.

THANK. YOU.!!!!!!!

[TW: long rant XD]

Finally, someone who gets it! The hate is honestly ridiculous.

They’re out here shouting that Elrond kissed his mother-in-law when, newsflash, Celeborn isn’t even in the picture, and who knows if he’ll ever show up!

Galadriel and Elrond have this deep, close, and really touching bond from episode one, and somehow that’s off-limits?

Why is it suddenly scandal city when we dare to suggest she finds happiness and true partnership with Elrond?

But throw her into the arms of Sauron, the Dark Lord himself, and suddenly, it's “complex” and “character development”. It’s all “look at her grow through her suffering!” as if Elven love can’t mean support, respect, and actual happiness.

And don’t even get me started on the “Elven marriage” debate X'DDD

People are quick to dismiss all those Tolkien notes about Elven traditions when it suits their ship, but suddenly it’s set in stone the moment Elrond and Galadriel’s names come up together. Also, Tolkien literally pondered Elrond and Galadriel in one of his drafts, just like you said, so maybe instead of clutching the canon scrolls like they’re about to burn up in the fires of Mount Doom, people could acknowledge it’s not heretical to want Galadriel with someone who sees her and loves her.

Her marriage to Celeborn only seems to matter when it’s about Sauron or Celeborn himself. But the moment Elrond’s name is in the mix, suddenly everyone’s clutching their elvish pearls and running back to their mothers, calling for the Tolkien Canon Inquisition to bring down judgment on the Elrondriel shippers.

Some folks would rather see her fight her way through every imaginable trial just so they can applaud her “strength,” as if Elrond couldn’t offer a kind of partnership/relationship that allows her to be both strong and loved.

And let’s talk about why some of us ship Elrondriel in the first place—maybe it’s because it represents a soft, supportive love, something different than the tragic, high-stakes relationships often portrayed?

Some Elrondriel shippers find solace in a relationship that emphasizes mutual respect and gentleness, especially those of us who might have trauma connected to toxic or damaging significant others.

I know I do.

When Haladriel and Celeborn/Galadriel shippers come after us with attacks like, “Elrondriel ruins her character!” or wave the banner of “feminism” to bash a pairing built on care and understanding, it’s not only missing the point; it’s harmful. That criticism doesn’t strengthen Galadriel’s character—it polices her story.

Not every relationship has to be built on struggle, abuse, manipulation, physical abuse or else to make a character “strong”.

Romanticizing cruelty or betrayal as “character development” ignores the very real impact those relationships can have on people, fictional or not. A kind, soft love doesn’t weaken Galadriel; it honors her resilience, allowing her to find peace with someone who truly respects her, flaws and all. So can we please move the conversation forward instead of dragging it down with unnecessary, hostile purity tests? This kind of dialogue isn’t constructive—it’s just plain vile.

We’re not out here hunting through the Haladriel or Celeborn/Galadriel tags, nor are we combing through fics that focus on those pairings. We’re not interested in disrupting spaces others enjoy. To each their own tastes, and I fully respect that—right up until the conversation targets us. I’m not personally a fan of storylines involving intense emotional or physical abuse or dark manipulations, and I certainly don’t go searching for them.

Elrondriel shippers just want the same respect in return: a space to explore and enjoy our ship without being policed, brought down or harassed.

If this pairing isn’t your thing, that’s completely fine—just scroll by or block the tag. There’s room for all kinds of interpretations, and it’d be nice if we could keep the fandom an inclusive and respectful space where people can enjoy the pairings they like without unnecessary interference.

So yeah, I’ll stand by Elrondriel, and I’ll do it proudly because it’s about wanting Galadriel to be happy, without her suffering being painted as "depth" or "character development."

To me, making her feel loved and cherished doesn’t weaken her character, it actually strengthens it. It shows her humanity, something that, frankly, some of these characters are desperately lacking. Love and respect aren’t weaknesses, point blank period.

They’re what give characters the depth and growth they need to evolve in a healthy, meaningful way. A character can’t be defined solely by their pain or struggle; their strength often comes from overcoming it and finding love, support, and peace along the way. I’ll stand by this pairing because I believe it honors Galadriel’s strength, her journey, and her need to be valued beyond the endless suffering she’s faced. Just because the media or others may portray certain things a certain way doesn’t mean it’s wrong to seek out a different kind of love story, one where the characters find joy, peace, and mutual respect.

And for Galadriel, that kind of love is long overdue.

[ NB: And let’s be real here—to be a mother-in-law, there actually needs to be a daughter/son. And as far as I know, said daughter is just as MIA as her “dad”. So until Celebrían herself decides to make an appearance, let’s not go throwing around “mother-in-law” labels like they’re fact.]

Thank YOU Anon for this, I'm so happy more Elrondriel shippers are coming forth!!!🤍🤍🤍

[mila-bee]

[sgt-tombstone]

Like A Baby

————

Ghost sleeps like he’s in a coffin

On his back, straight as a board, arms crossed over his chest, the whole nine yards

When Soap and Gaz see him do it for the first time in the field, they think it’s a joke, that he’s leaned into the whole Ghost thing a little too hard. They think it’s funny, albeit slightly disconcerting

But over the course of several missions, they realize that Simon genuinely has no idea that he does it. He goes to sleep laying down like anyone else, in whatever position is most comfortable in the middle of an op, but as soon as he slips unconscious, his body naturally arranges itself into the most macabre position possible

They want to tell him about it so badly, but Price convinces them not to. He doesn’t tell them why, he just says that it would be a bad idea, and they trust him enough not to push it

Until Soap lets it slip one night while they’re at a bar, makes a stupid joke about Ghost “sleeping like the dead” that Gaz laughs a little too hard at and they only realize their mistake when Ghost’s eyebrows knit in confusion. So they fess up, reluctantly, and tell him that he sleeps like a corpse. Arms crossed and everything. He refuses to believe it at first, because denial has always worked for him in the past, and he wouldn’t put it past the sergeants to pull his chain like this, especially since they don’t know. But then Soap says he’ll snap a picture the next time he sees it and Ghost starts to get scared

Sure enough, two weeks later finds them in the middle of fucking nowhere in the middle of the fucking night, and Ghost settles down against a wall that’s more rubble than structure. He resolutely stays sitting up because he desperately wants to prove the sergeants wrong, but as soon as he falls asleep, his body slumps over and turns until he’s on his back, arms crossed, spine straight. Soap snaps his picture and feels guilty about it all night

When he wakes up the next morning, Ghost’s first words to him are, “show me,” and Soap should know better but apparently he doesn’t because he pulls up the picture. It’s dark and slightly blurry but unmistakable. Like a fucking corpse

It sends Ghost into a tailspin. The only reason why he doesn’t lose it completely is because Price is there to hold him together. Instead, he shuts down. It feels like a betrayal from his own body, his own mind. It’s a sick joke, a cosmic ‘fuck you’, a trauma response of epic proportions. He’d escaped his own grave, but apparently his sleeping mind didn’t know that

When they get back to base, no one sees or hears from Ghost for close to three weeks. Soap is losing his mind, Gaz is ready to tear the base apart to find him, and even Price (usually very used to Ghost’s moods) is visibly worried. Finally, Soap corners him in the sniper tower where he’s been taking stim packs and caffeine pills in an attempt to avoid sleep altogether. Soap damn near drags him, stumbling and off balance from exhaustion, to bed. Despite how tired he is, he can’t fall asleep, his heart and mind racing with panic at the thought of his unconscious body forcing him to become a corpse again

Right up until Johnny lays down next to him. And then his mind goes blissfully quiet. His heart is still pounding, but for a completely different reason as Johnny curls his body around Simon’s, arranging their limbs in such a way that Simon couldn’t possibly straighten out. It’s the warmest he’s ever been, the most comfortable he’s ever been. With his arms around Johnny and Johnny’s head tucked under his chin, he falls asleep effortlessly

When he wakes up, the first thing he mumbles is, “how did I…?” but he can’t bring himself to finish it, terrified of the answer. Johnny just smiles up at him, mohawk askew and cheek creased from being pressed against Simon’s shirt all night, and says, “like a baby.”

Simon never sleeps like he’s in a coffin ever again

[darlingdaisyfarm]

mullet!Stan Pines headcanons

✦ it’s rare that you see him without a shirt, but one day you spot the burn scar tattoo you think? etched into his shoulder, something Stan never intended to have. he notices you looking and quickly covers. “ain’t nothin’ to look at, sweetheart” he laughs awkwardly, turning away

✦ now, whenever your hand brushes over it, even accidentally, though not really, because you’re so curious and want to know what is it, Stan freezes up and it takes him a second to relax again. he blinks, brows furrowed, face blank as he falls out of reality, like it brings him right back to that fight with his brother. you gently trace the scar and Stan lets you, though you can feel him fighting the wish to pull away. “just. . . don’t think about it too much, alright?” he’ll mumble, but you know that for Stan, this scar means more than he’ll ever admit.

✦ however one night Stanley finally tells you the full story. how it happened, the anger, the betrayal, the pain he never quite dealt with. he looks away, ashamed, preparing to be slapped and yelled at, but you gently tilt his face back toward you, brushing a thumb over the scar, tracing it without a word, letting him know it doesn’t change how you see him. when he wants to pull away, you stop him with a tender smile, whispering that he’s safe, that whatever happened, he’s not alone in it anymore

okay enough angst :)

✦ there’s a god somewhere blessing this man with a mullet and it’s only right that you get to take care of it. imagine him sitting there all gruff and complaining at first, like “i don’t need pampering,” but the second you get your hands in his hair he goes soft, eyes closed, practically melting. the tough guy act drops and he’s yours to play with. he’d mumble something like, “didn’t know ya liked my hair this much,” trying to sound casual, but he’s putty in your hands and he knows it. might even lean into you, letting you do whatever you want.

✦ so yeah, Stan will never admit It, but he loves being pampered. brush your fingers through his hair, scratch his back or rub his shoulders, and he’ll melt right there. “aw, c’mon, I don’t need all that mushy stuff,” he’ll grumble, but then he’ll lean right into your touch, closing his eyes, sighing as you work out the knots in his shoulders. “alright, alright, I take it back. keep doin’ that, I’m beggin’ ya.” and he’s yours — grumpy, needy mess, secretly loving every second.

✦ when it’s late and there’s an open bottle of whiskey between you, Stan got just enough liquor in him that his guard slips. he’s closer than usual, looking at you like you’re the only thing worth seeing and then out of nowhere, he speaks so damn quiet, “ain’t used to somebody like you.” he’s saying it to himself more than anything. and when you press him on it he brushes it off, acting all tough like he didn’t just spill his heart right there

✦ you’ll never hear it in so many words, but it’s there in all the little things he does. after a rough day or some dumb close call, he’ll look at you a little longer than usual, saying softly, “don’t know what i’d do without ya, y’know?” and yeah, then he’ll laugh it off, crack a joke to brush it away, because he’s so scared to show vulnerability but you still notice the truth in his eyes. he’s showing it even if he can’t say it out loud. it’s his way, in that unpolished, stubborn way of his, but damn, if it isn’t sweet.  

✦ sometimes, it all boils over and you two end up in a heated argument because he can be so damn stubborn, your voices raised, tempers flaring. but after it’s over, when the dust settles he’s not one to just let it go. Stan will not forgive himself if another person close to him leaves him. he’ll come back to you, eyes softer, whispering apologies under his breath, wanting to make things right, at least once. he pulls you close, his fingers brushing your cheek while he looks into it eyes just to make sure they aren’t red from tears.

✦ “i ain’t the best guy, ya know?” you want to reassure him that he’s more than just a messed-up past. when he looks at you, his eyes searching yours, it’s like he’s waiting for you to see through the bullshit. and god, when you reach for him, telling him he’s enough, you can practically feel him exhale, releasing that tight tension.

✦ at first, Stan hid his jealousy. well, what can you do, this man is used to hiding all his life. so before, when someone else got a little too close to you, Stan would hide his jealousy with “just didn’t like the way they were lookin’ at ya, thats all”

so later when you got much closer, he’s all kinds of possessive in the hottest way. someone brushes past you at the bar or shack? his grip on your waist tightens just a bit and he’s leaning in, “you keep yer distance.” it’s not just jealousy, it’s a need to keep you close, to remind everyone that you’re his

✦ so now you know — this man is possessive, if he’s got you, he wants everybody to know it. he’ll leave little marks, love bites along your collarbone, your shoulders, neck, anywhere he can reach. he’ll smirk when he sees them later, running his thumb over the spot, all proud, whispering something like, “gotta let ‘em know who ya belong to.” so when he notices you wearing something that shows them off, that just sets him off all over again.

✦ sometimes, Stanley just gets quiet, he’ll pull you into this tight hug, burying his face against your neck. no words, no jokes, just him, needing you. maybe it’s after a long day, or some memory from the past got to him, but he won’t explain it, not yet. he’ll just hold you like he’s afraid of letting go, mumbling a half-hearted “don’t mind me”

✦ you’ll never know about it, but sometimes he’ll wake up early just to look at you, his hand resting on your side, thumb rubbing lazy circles on your hip. he’d mumble under his breath, half in awe, half still sleepy, “how the hell’d i get so lucky?” it’s this rare soft look he’ll snap out of the second you move in your sleep, pretending he wasn’t just watching you like you’re the best damn thing he’s ever seen.

✦ as cocky as Stan is, sometimes he’ll just lean back and wait, watching you with this smug lazy smirk, waiting for you to break first. he’ll spread his arms, eyebrows raised, saying “go on, sweetheart, show me what ya got.” and it’s not that he doesn’t want you, he’s just savouring the anticipation, the way you look when you finally grab his shirt and pull him close, wiping that smirk right off his face as he gives in, hands rough and needy on you

✦ there’s something about Stan getting down and dirty with his car that just makes him even hotter. he’ll be sprawled under the hood, greasy hands and all, and when you come by, he’ll flash that charming grin and you’ll find him making suggestive comments about how the car isn’t the only thing he’d love to get under

✦ you’ll be curled up together watching some old flick and the moment something emotional hits you’ll catch him sneaking a sniffle, clearing his throat like it’s nothing. “damn movies, always gettin’ me,” he’ll grumble, trying to cover it up, but when you tease him, he’ll roll his eyes. “oh please, sweetheart, I just. . . like a good story, okay?”

[sluttywonwoo]

i feel like dk would have a huge thing for like playing with u, like you’re both just resting in bed but he’s been getting u all worked up slowly by fingering u a bit n just playing with your pussy but not making u cum until u can’t wait anymore, n when you wanna cum he takes his underwear off n fucks u instead <3

he wouldn’t even set out with the intention to mess around, he just loves touching you. a hand on your thigh, an arm around your waist… he just loves feeling connected to you. he can’t help that touching you does things to him— who could blame him??

soon enough whatever had been playing on the tv is forgotten and he has two fingers inside of you as you writhe around on the mattress and whine at him.

“seokmin, please,” you beg.

“please what?” he taunts as he presses up into that spot that drives you crazy.

“please, harder…”

his fingers stop moving altogether while he pretends to think about it, leaving you even more frustrated.

“i’m having too much fun,” he decides.

you whimper pitifully as he continues to finger you at the same pace, building you up and up but never quite getting you there.

you let him play with you for as long as you can stand it, eyeing the bulge in his sweats that only gets more and prominent as time goes on.

you think he’ll eventually let you cum— you even get close a few times but seokmin knows your body like the back of his hand and always stops before you can truly reach the edge.

finally, when you think he’s had enough ‘fun’, you try appealing to him again. “baby?”

“hm?”

“i wanna cum.”

“you want to cum?” you nod eagerly. “how bad do you want it?”

“so bad, seok.”

“okay, baby,” he concedes.

your sigh of relief breaks off into a whine as he slides his fingers out and sucks them clean.

you blink up at your boyfriend in confusion, your eyes full of betrayal. “wha-“

“you want to cum, right?”

“yeah but-“

seokmin climbs on top of you so that he can position himself in between your legs, pushing his pjs just below his ass.

“won’t cumming on my cock feel much better than on my fingers?” he asks.

you’re still pouting as you nod. “i was so close already, though.”

seokmin leans down begins to kiss your neck, pausing only to murmur against you. “i know, angel. don’t worry, i’ll make it up to you. you’ll cum so many times you’ll forget to be mad at me.”

[theplotdemandsit]

When Five finally makes it back home with his siblings, finally makes it back to the right timeline, he finds he’s still holding his breath. 

“Is it really over?” He thinks out loud. 

“I guess there’s only one way to find out,” comes Luther’s response. 

So they do. And everything seems…normal?

But as much as Five wants to sleep for ten days straight, he can’t help but feel on edge. He spends his time visiting each sibling, popping in for dinners or briefly making sure they haven’t felt anything out of the ordinary. One day Allison asks him if he actually wants there to be an approaching apocalypse. His eyes fall onto Claire who’s catching him up on High School Musical the Musical the Series.

“No,” he answers. “I really don’t.” 

They make time for family dinners every Sunday. They still bicker and maybe swing some fists every now and then, but everyone is fast to apologize and laugh again. With room to breathe again without high stakes, the hurt finally begins to heal. They had been family before, but it slowly begins to feel like a real family. 

And for the first time, they really get to know each other. For all the crap they gave Luther about the moon, they listen as he shares the misery and loneliness and betrayal he felt. Allison describes her time as a Black woman in the 60s without her voice. Literally. Viktor tells them about what it was like growing up powerless only to end the world twice. How he lost his memory and found the one he loved only to lose that too. 

Klaus manifests Ben (who is still a ghost but as alive as he could get) and together they tell of their adventures growing up and the cult Klaus accidentally created. In between laughs, they also learn about Klaus’s harrowing experiences with drugs and death.

And Five? He has over 40 years of stories, and at first he doesn’t want to share any of it. His time in the Apocalypse, his time in the Commission, murdering for the sole purpose of survival in order to get back to his family—it’s not a side to him he wants his family to know about. 

But at the same time for reasons he can’t explain, he does want them to know. For the first time, he wants to talk to his family, the family he worked tirelessly to save. 

Little by little, he does just that. Every now and then he will start a sentence with, “Back in the Apocalypse…,” during dinner or his visits with them. Silly ones at first, like the time he had the nasty Twinkie. The time he sang all the Beatles songs he could remember and pretended he was having a concert. The time he found Umbrella Academy action figures and reenacted missions with them. 

When it’s just him and another sibling, he starts sharing some of the hard stuff too.

He tells Allison how he starved during his first winter alone and hallucinated that she had helped him find food. When he woke up he found himself in a storage house full of canned goods and bawled his eyes out.

He tells Diego about the first time he killed someone. How the scariest thing was that he wasn’t shaking. 

He tells Viktor how he sometimes still wonders if he deserves everything he got for messing with time in the first place. How he’s afraid that one of these days he’ll wake up and be alone again.

He tells Klaus about the time he thought about giving up and ending it all. 

He tells Luther about Dolores. About how even though he knew he was crazy for talking to a mannequin, Dolores was the better part of him that salvaged his sanity.

He tells Ben (and Klaus, by default) that his biggest regret is not being there. That he tries not to think about how things might have been different if he’d stayed.

Slowly, slowly, bit by bit, the tension eases from his shoulders. He stops worrying so much about the world ending and how to keep everyone alive. Instead, he spends his time going to the park with Claire, helping Diego and Lila with the babies, having midnight food outings with Klaus, and listening to Viktor play his music.

At their weekly family dinner, Luther tells Five he has a present for him and pulls out a box of Twinkies, saying, “I know you want to try one.”

Five gives him a practiced glare and says, “I would rather swim in a pot of boiling oil.”

Before, his family might have stared at him like he grew two heads, but now they laugh and think his retort is hilarious. Luther opens the box and pulls out a bag of marshmallows instead, and Five can’t help but crack a smile. 

One day they ask him what his plans are—what’s next for the oldest sibling.

Five warms his hands on a hot mug of coffee. “I’m tired of thinking about the future,” he tells them. “Right now, I just want to spend time with my family.”

That earns him plenty of “aww”s and “You’re such a softie, Five.” He waves them away and tries to duck out of their hugs, but they get him in the end. And even if he could teleport, he doesn’t want to.

He hadn’t been looking for happy, but he found it anyway.

Now cross-posted on Ao3 under the same handle!

[sinsirellaxx]

hi!! could i request the slytherin boys reacting to you moving on after breaking up w them bc of all the shit they pull… like they didnt believe her when she said she was done with them but they see her with another person who maybe treats her better?

Slytherin boys – Seeing you with another person that treats you well

Warning: Toxic boys. Not proofread.

Enjoy!

Mattheo …

… thought you’d be back in his arms within a month. You’d live through the different stages of a break-up before realizing that your life was meaningless without him – he was sure of it.

… is in denial when he sees you with someone else. He’ll think you’re just trying to make him jealous – to bring him crawling back to you and beg for you to take him back. That must be it.

… will stalk you and your new partner and is speechless when he finally realizes that you have moved on.

… he’d be absolutely livid if you were together with one of his friends. He’d probably tackle them to the ground before throwing the first punch – betrayal and jealousy clouding his mind.

Theodore …

… scoffs when he sees you with someone else.

… would be all “What a downgrade.”, while trying to stroke his wounded ego. Because how dare you? How could you move on, while he still had hope – while he still had feelings for you.

… would start ‘hating’ you, from that day on. He’ll deny having feelings for you – or having ever loved you, to make himself look less weak and avoid the pitying yes of the other students. But he was as transparent as glass.

… glares at you whenever you pass him with your partner and will wait for any moment to find you alone, just to say, “Where’s that new boyfriend of yours?”.

Lorenzo …

… immediately looks for a new girlfriend just to make you jealous. At least, that’s what he is aiming for: He wants to hurt you. Break your heart and have you beg for him to take you back. He’s sure you’ll be back in his arms within days. But he’ll make you wait and work for it.

… is utterly pissed when you don’t pay him any attention at all. You are so happy and distracted with your new partner – it makes him want to vomit.

... will quickly get rid of his new girl.

… thinks of a plan to destroy your new relationship: He’ll brew a love potion and has someone else slip it into your partner’s juice. Soon, your partner will be obsessed with someone else, and you’ll realize how much of an idiot that new partner of yours is.

Draco …

… is so cocky. Did you really think you could ever find someone better than him? Please. He’d smirk whenever he saw you two together.

… is humbled very quickly when he realizes that you are truly happy with your new partner and his whole attitude changes.

… grows increasingly sad and depressed – disappointed with himself and feeling utterly empty.

… just wants you bad but does not actively do something to get you back, thinking he doesn’t deserve you.

Blaise …

… watches you from afar, his chest tight as he thinks of all the times your laugh was directed at something he had said.

…would be too proud to actively do something at first.

… might spread nasty rumors about your new partner though.

… tries to orchestrate a situation in which he comes to your rescue after a while – because he has finally had enough of watching you lovebirds.

Tom …

… mocks you for your poor choice in men.

… knows that he is better than your new thing and watches you in contempt.

… will – depending on whether he really loves you or not – get rid of your new partner: He won’t tolerate someone else touching or loving you.

… will call you his slobbery seconds if he does not have any real feelings for you. You didn’t deserve him anyway.

[crossbackpoke-check]

the world at its beginning, dustin pearson // mosaic, linda pastan [Link to IHL’s Solar Bears connects NHL Draft prospect to Orlando] // Goin' high: Hughes chooses No. 86 with Devils // twice your size, declan mckenna // jeff bassett // blue is beautiful amy but the story is so the '90s, farrah field // what it means to be alive at the time of the resurrection of the dead, michalle gould // Quinn Hughes impresses youngest brother Luke with All-Star play // mozart songbook, joan larkin // siblings, paul klee // closeness lines, olivia de recat // andrew hancock // brother's keeper, young the giant // jason e. miczek // michigan athletics // "he ain't heavy, he's my brother", the hollies // luke hughes can follow brothers as first-round pick at 2021 nhl draft // genesis (from music for the dead and resurrected), valzhyna mort // jack hughes once had his braces 'ripped off his face' in a moment of sibling rivalry //

After Abel, Dante Émile // sportingnews // Cain, José Saramago (trans. Margaret Jull Costa) // Dave Sandford // Kin, Clan and Community in Proto-Indo-European Society, Birgit Anette Olsen // ESPN // Wikipedia // ESPN // Jeff Vinnick // Genesis, Valzhyna Mort // Puckprose // I Cast It Away, My Body, William Bearhart // Puckprose // Cain slaying Abel, Abraham Bloemaert (1590) // NHL // Clive Baker // Puckprose // NHL // Murder Ballad in the Land of Nod, Traci Brimhall // Freep // The Changes of Cain: Violence and the Lost Brother in Cain and Abel Literature, Ricardo J. Quinones // penticton western news // The Book of a Monastic Life, Rainer Maria Rilke (trans. Anita Barrows and Joanna Macy) // "A Brother Named Gethsemane", Natalie Diaz // NHL // NHL // Ivan the Terrible and His Son Ivan on 16 November 1581, Ilya Repin (1883-1885) NHL // Brothers, Dan Pagis (trans. Shirley Kaufman) // Fox News // NHL // NHL // Wikipedia // Fox News // NHL // Cain, José Saramago (trans. Margaret Jull Costa) // Allaboutthejersey // Allaboutthejersey // Jewish Literacy, Rabbi Joseph Telushkin

[islandofsages]

hey, I could ask the royal boys (Leona, Kalim and Malleus) with the male reader who is already the king of his country, like the boys thought he was a prince like them, but then on any given day he lets out a complaint how difficult it is to govern the kingdom and study for exams at the same time, sometimes he just wanted to be the prince and not the king.

characters: leona, kalim and malleus x king!male reader

tags: platonic, canon compliant, fluff, imagines + scenario format

warnings: a little bit of negativity towards reader in leona's part, a bit of swearing in kalim's

author's notes: loving all the male reader requests rn. i think i strayed a bit from the prompt but i hope you like it anyway <3

Leona Kingscholar

Though being a prince himself, he’s not as “diplomatic” with the other princes at that school - except for you probably. No don’t ask him what happened, he’s ready to accept it as it is

At least because of your (assumed) status, he finds it easier to communicate with you; at least you’re not one of the top five most powerful mages in the world or the most optimistic person in Twisted Wonderland

Hangouts with him still consist more of silent chilling though; both of you just need to get away from it all for a while

He doesn’t question the days that you’re gone - sometimes people just end up needing you to do this and that. He tries not to dwell on it too much, lest his inferiority complex gets the best of him

Until one day, you come back after one day of absence, which is normal enough until-

“*sigh* I swear, being king is less appealing as my retainers make it sound, especially since I also have to go to school all the while.”

I’m sorry, being what now?

He knew you were royalty, that much he got from everyone whispering about you back when you enrolled and since you made little mention of your background, he just assumed you were a prince like him

You let out a tired chuckle then and comment on how you forgot that you never told him you’re an actual king of a nation

He has mixed feelings over this - he thought he finally met someone a little bit like him, yet you’re just another one of them and you never bothered telling him who you are?

But don’t worry, he gets over his feelings of betrayal after a while; it’s not like the reveal changed who you are as a person. You’re still the same guy who he’s been hanging out with and he knows his brain is trying to defend itself

You apologize for not telling him sooner and despite your complaints, you try not to sound ungrateful, especially considering his issues

At some point, even Leona himself starts to forget about that fact

It doesn’t matter if you carry a whole nation on your shoulders because - and he will never say this out loud - he knows you’re capable and if you start to crumble, he’ll be there for you.

Kalim Al-Asim

Though he’s not one to really care about someone’s social status, he’s happy to have more royal friends

Doesn’t stop him from spoiling you. Haven’t you heard? Any friends of Kalim are also friends of his many, many fortunes

He invites you over to Scarabia for parties every so often and either you are surrounded by people or everyone leaves you alone out of intimidation

But hey, if the latter happens, Kalim is more than happy to help you make some friends (unless you’re uncomfortable with it of course but he’ll still try to help)

One time, at one of his many parties, you two were simply laughing over something and it reminded you of something-

“That makes me think of the time this creature took a shit on my throne back at home - it took a few days for the stench to fade!”

Oh, of course, your throne! Everyone totally has a literal throne back home! Until Kalim realizes that is, in fact, untrue

As if he wasn’t already excited at the prospect of a new friend, he gets more excited at the fact that you have your own throne and is, he concludes, a monarch

You brush him off, light pink decorating your cheeks, saying that it’s not really that special - and you mean it

You tell him of the experience and you couldn’t help slip in a few complaints; it isn’t easy to juggle both school and royal responsibilities at the same time

He only listens in and tries his best to understand; he is no king, and though he is a housewarden and a prince, your struggles differ from his by a long mile

From that day on, he makes sure to check in on you and if you’re feeling less than, he’ll drop everything and do anything to relieve you of your stress

When he drops by your nation and your palace, he brings in a whole parade. It’s so Kalim that you can only laugh

You knew that story about a creature shitting on your throne was gonna be a good story at parties.

Malleus Draconia

Your presence is an absolute delight to him; it didn’t occur to him to ask what kind of royalty you are but it didn’t matter either way

He finds himself more comfortable talking about his heritage around you, knowing that you can somewhat relate to being of nobility

If you’re not part of his club, sometimes you tag along on his gargoyle crusades for the hell of it - seeing him so passionate about something brings a smile to your face

On one of your many escapades, he points out a gargoyle and begins to ramble about its features

Hearing it suddenly makes you remember-

“Ah gosh, I just remembered I should be back home right now, some of my people will be coming over to construct some gargoyles around my castle.”

He doesn’t question it at first but then the phrase “my people” registered in his mind. Wait, what do you mean your people?

You start to apologize for not telling him and also the fact that you have to leave that very moment

After you came back after the whole ordeal, you sit him down somewhere and tell him about your position

As mentioned, it doesn’t matter to him what responsibilities you have, as long as you can be his friend

You breathe out a sigh of relief and invite him to continue where you two left off last time

Nothing changes much between you two, except for the fact that you share more of your kingly experiences

He definitely drops by your place at least once - he could never miss out a chance on seeing some new gargoyles

And as he looks on at those beautiful waterspouts, you can’t help but be grateful that they can serve as a source of happiness for someone too.

[xspeter]

LOML

luke castellan x fem!reader

angst, angst, angst. mini blurb to help me get my flow back :) based off of LOML by Taylor Swift.

Percy Jackson isn’t sure what’s worse. Luke’s betrayal, or the look on your face when you find out. He’s sure he’ll get nightmares about it.

You’d had a wide smile on your face, the woven flower crown in your hair hinting that you’d just been out at the flower fields with your siblings.

You’d been called to help patch up Percy after what you had been told was a fight, but the somber energy in the room immediately told you something was off. It was too suspicious to have Chiron, Mr. D, Percy, Annabeth, and Grover all in the room for what was supposed to simply be slapping on a band-aid.

The smile on your face fell, and was instead replaced with a subtle frown. Your eyebrows furrowed, and you crossed your arms over your chest uncomfortably. “Is something wrong?” You asked, eyeing everyone in the room.

Percy swallowed and hesitantly glanced to Annabeth, who already had the remnants of tears in her eyes. And if the glossiness told him anything, it was that she was about to burst out crying again. Not that he could blame her.

He watched your frown grow as recognition flashed across your face. You and Luke always had been so in tune to each others emotions, he’s honestly surprised you didn’t notice the lack of his presence earlier.

“Y/N-” Chiron started, but you interrupted him. “Where’s Luke?”

Silence.

Percy didn’t believe in soulmates. It’s weird, because after finding out about greek gods and mythological beings being real, you’d think soulmates wouldn’t be that far off the table. But, they were.

But you and Luke had something Percy could tell was special. It wasn’t just a relationship - it was like a sacred bond bestowed upon the two of you by the gods themselves. Wherever Luke was, you’d be sure to follow, and vice versa. Fuck, you’d practically finish each other’s sentences as corny as that sounded.

That’s why he was so confused Luke would throw it all away so easily.

“Y/N…” Mr. D started, and Percy was sure it was the most emotion he’d ever even seen from him. You immediately began shaking your head, hands trembling as you stared at the ground. “Where is he?” You questioned again.

More silence followed, and Percy knew no one wanted to answer you, and he could understand why. Still, he took a breath and forced himself to look up at you. “He’s gone.”

It was like the five stages of grief flashed in your eyes simultaneously - merging together but still so distinguishable.

“No, he’s not.” You whimpered, “He’s in his cabin. I just saw him barely an hour ago-”

“He tried to kill Percy,” Annabeth finally breathed out. “He wants to overthrow the gods.”

You shook your head, a disbelieving laugh leaving your lips as you ran a trembling hand through your hair, moving up the white flower crown until it was lopsided on your head. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” You said through gritted teeth, “Luke wouldn’t do that. I know him. I know him. He wouldn’t. It must’ve been- been a shapeshifter or something. I mean, with all the other monsters out there there has to be a shapeshifter right? Yeah. That’s all it was. It wasn’t Luke.”

Percy squeezed the table in front of him until his knuckles were white, doing his best to choke down his tears. It was a tempting idea, one that he’d have no problem believing if it hadn’t been for the look in Luke’s eyes. No monster could recreate that kind of rage.

“It was him,” Percy spoke up, “I know it was.”

“You don’t know anything!” You yelled, eyes wild and skin paling, “You don’t know Luke like I do! He wouldn’t do this! Sure, he gets mad at the gods sometimes, but don’t we all? It doesn’t mean we’re gonna up and start a whole rebellion!”

Grover attempted to reach out to you, tears forming in his dark eyes, “I know it’s hard-” He attempted, but you practically jumped away from him. “Don’t touch me.” You growled lowly, pointing an accusing finger in his face. Grover didn’t argue.

Everyone in the room stared at you in pity, and it made you sick. You’d show them. Luke was in his cabin right now, probably trying to sleep or playing with one of the younger campers. Because that’s what Luke does - that’s the Luke you know.

You were the love of his life. He’d told you just two days ago during a secret picnic on the beach way past your curfew. You’d choked up, but told him the same through your tears. Luke had kissed you so hard you swore you were seeing stars, and you remember thinking this kiss had felt different than all the others. Almost desperate, like he was trying to grasp onto something he knew he was losing.

No.

Luke was in his cabin.

You’d left the Big House without even a grunt, practically sprinting across camp to the Hermes cabin. You didn’t care about the weird looks the stragglers were giving you, didn’t care about the soft ache in your legs. You needed to see Luke. Needed to feel him. Needed to intertwine your souls again.

You were panting by the time you reached it, throwing the doors open and looking around wildly. “Luke?” You called, voice breaking a bit as you did.

“Y/N?” someone said, you didn’t know their name. Or maybe you did. You honestly couldn’t remember right now, the only thing running through your mind was Luke.

“Have you seen Luke?” You asked.

The camper shook her head, blonder hair falling in front of her face as she did. “Hey, are you okay-”

You were gone before she could even finish her sentence. You spent hours searching for him, like he was a pair of house keys you’d lost and desperately needed in order to go home.

The moon was high into the sky by the time you stop, your vision blurry with tears and muscles burning. You’d even prayed to your father at some point - which was something you rarely ever did.

You fall to your knees in the grass, hand clutching at the golden bracelet on your wrist. Like had given it to you two nights ago on the beach, embroided in it were the letters “LOML.”

He’dtold you it was because you were the love of his life, but right now in this moment, with your chest puffing and knees weak, you think it may stand for something else.

Because while you may be the love of Luke Castellan’s life, he was the loss of yours.

[rothpie]

❝FIDELITY❞ |part1

MASTERLIST -`✮´- Rafe Cameron x Kook!Reader x JJ Maybank

Summary: Kook!Reader’s world is upended by betrayal, and her only way forward might lie with the most unlikely person—JJ Maybank. But as they build a new life together, old flames and past mistakes refuse to stay buried.

Warnings: blood, mentioning pregnancy

next

English isn’t my first language, so I apologize if I make some mistakes. 💗

You're lying on your back, the faint light streaming through Rafe’s blinds casting long shadows across the room. The space feels familiar, as always, but now, there’s something different, something unsettling—wrinkled sheets, the sharp, expensive scent of his cologne lingering in the air, his jacket casually draped over the chair by the window… There’s an intense silence, broken only by the low hum of the ceiling fan. It’s hard to ignore the unease gnawing at your mind, that strange sense that something’s just… off.

You shift slightly, watching his silhouette move in the soft morning light filtering through the curtains; he barely spoke since he got home last night, pulling you into bed, his thoughts miles away.

“Where are you going?” he murmur, breaking the silence. He’s already looking at you, eyes half-open, following your movements with a lazy grin and the faint imprint of the pillow still visible on his cheek.

“Told you I have things to do today, babe,” you say with a smile, and he frowns, stretching as he turns onto his back to look around.

“Come back to bed,” he says, reaching out to touch the spot where you’d just been lying. The usual cold demeanor he wears has softened; now, he’s almost sulking, like a kid pouting. “What, feeling chilly?” you tease with a smirk, picking up your jeans from the floor. Rafe sits up, watching you, visibly unimpressed by your joke.

“I’d rather see you taking those off.” His eyes trace over you, his tongue sweeping over his lips like he’s ready to devour you for breakfast. “Too bad,” you reply with a playful edge, alluding to how he’d come straight home last night and just crashed. He doesn’t break his gaze as he slumps back down, watching you intently from the bed.

“Babe, you’re serious right now? Come on, get back here.” You roll your eyes and keep dressing while he lets out a frustrated sigh, realizing he’s not going to win this time.

Without saying anything more, he resigns himself to watching, clearly enjoying the show you’re unknowingly giving him. “You should wear those jeans more often—they do wonders for your ass.” His comment makes you laugh, and his grin grows wider, obviously pleased.

Once you’re fully dressed, you grab your bag from across the room and approach the bed. Leaning over, he meets you halfway, his mouth pressing onto yours as if that’s exactly where he belongs. A perfect, effortless fit.

“Stay,” he says as you pull back a bit, looking down into his eyes. His smile holds that look—he could make anyone do anything, but he’s using it on you because he already knows he can.

“I can’t.” The words leave your lips just before he kisses you again, pulling you back down onto him. You can’t help but giggle as he quickly moves, wrapping you into his arms. When his eyes and his words don’t work, he’ll use his mouth. Still grinning, he keeps his lips pressed to yours.

After your laughter dies down, his hands slide through your hair, and he kisses you deeply, savoring the moment until he’s satisfied. He releases you with a few final pecks, hands still resting by your face, studying you closely. “I wonder what’s so important you’d leave me,” he muses.

You place your hand on his cheek, giving him one last soft kiss. He doesn’t resist—he matches your calm, unhurried pace. When you pull back, you feel that little hint of tension at his question, but you fight the urge to look away.

“My mom.” You say it, biting down on the first lie you can think of, hoping it’s convincing. “She wants me at home for breakfast. No idea why, but apparently, it’s important.” Rafe has that faint smile again. He tuned out after the first sentence, just watching you, captivated. Sometimes he barely listens to what you say, preferring just to watch you. He knows you’ll do whatever you want anyway, so why waste time?

He leans in, planting a quick kiss on your lips. “Call me later,” he says, settling back down into the bed with that look still in his eyes. You nod and head to the door. As you leave, you hear him say, “Love you.”

You turn back to him. “Love you more!” You pull the door shut, and his laugh filters through. It makes you smile, but as you descend the stairs, that smile fades until it’s completely gone when you leave Tannyhill.

There’s an ache inside you that doesn’t go away. Every day, it presses tighter against your chest. You wish you could just chalk it up to being sick, but you need proof, something undeniable. When the familiar nausea hits again, you clutch your stomach, breathing deeply. Your eyes well up with panic, knowing you’re already too far gone to hold it in.

-

The smells are stronger than usual. You already hate hospitals, that medicinal scent, but today it’s overwhelming, suffocating even. You wipe your nose and try not to cry.

You scan the aisles.

Looking for a familiar face, a potential danger.

Hoping to find a way out, some kind of excuse. You pretend to browse a shelf, but you’re really just eyeing the store for anyone who might recognize you.

Finally convinced it’s safe, your trembling hand reaches for the pregnancy test on the shelf. You grab it and wrap your hand around it quickly. Embarrassment and dread roll over you.

Not remembering that night, that’s what gnaws at you. You and Rafe, sometimes you’d skip protection, just for the thrill of it. But you always had some backup. You can’t recall the details. Was it a drunk night? Did it happen in Topper’s bathroom, on the yacht? You can’t remember. Did you use anything? Did you take a pill? It’s all blank.

You place the pregnancy test on the counter and exhale, but the smell of disinfectant overwhelms you, making you pinch your nose. The cashier, a brown-haired guy, rings up your purchase, but just as he’s about to hand over the receipt, a voice from the back calls him. “Be right back,” he says with a polite smile, disappearing into the storeroom.

Then you sense someone beside you, and as you turn, your eyes lock onto him. Your hand instinctively pulls the test closer. Out of all people—of course, it’s him—JJ Maybank.

For once, he’s not covered in bruises; he’s downright bloody. His eyebrow and lip are split, blood streaking down his face, dried patches marking where he’d wiped his nose. And he’s got that stupid grin on his face as usual.

“You good?” JJ asks. His voice is casual, without a hint of concern. He doesn’t really care if you’re okay—he’s just curious.

Idiot.

“You,” the word slips out. You’re trying to hold yourself together, wiping away the tears and forcing yourself to sound casual. He looks at you like he hasn’t been punched in the face. Not just his face—his shirt’s got blood on it too. “A better question is, are you good?”

JJ laughs, pointing at himself as if the question is absurd. “Me? You should see the other guy.” His smug voice grates at you, and you roll your eyes. JJ laughs again, clearly amused by your reaction. You turn away, but he speaks up.

“Think you might have Covid?”

Your eyes dart back to him, trying to figure out if he’s joking or just delirious from the punches. Maybe he’s taken one too many hits to the head.

“What the hell are you talking about?” you snap. He’s an idiot, so you have to talk to him like one. You’re just one step away from snapping entirely, feeling the irritation practically radiate off you.

“The thing in your hand,” he starts, clearly unbothered by your tone, grinning away. But you’re tense, the tightness settling in your chest like a butterfly stuck there.

“Oh, thought it was a Covid test. Unless… it’s a pregnancy test.” His eyes drop to the test you’re trying to hide, glinting with mischief, then lifting to yours. He lifts his shirt, wiping the blood from his face with the hem, which somehow annoys you even more.

You look away, feeling your heart pound with anxiety. It’s dumb to think he won’t notice, but you’re too tense to think straight. You’ve always made the wrong choices, you know that.

“You’re babbling nonsense,” you retort, still unable to meet his gaze, hoping to shake him off. But JJ doesn’t look away; his gaze stays on your hands, that stupid smirk still plastered across his face.

“My bad, sorry,” he said, waiting like someone who had just walked in from the outside. Even though he claimed he was apologizing, his words were laced with sarcasm, and you could tell he was still grinning.

You’d handed him ammunition. To him. And of course, if you were actually pregnant, the first to know wouldn’t be Rafe. It’d be him. That idiot. JJ Maybank.

You lunged forward and snatched the receipt from behind the register with trembling hands, too anxious to wait for the brown-haired cashier to come back and worried you’d betray your unease if you stayed any longer.

When you turned to leave, another wave of anxiety hit. There was a very real chance that he’d spread this around, tell his stupid friends, the Pogues… JJ was the last person you’d trust with something like this, but he was also the last person you’d want to have blab about it, with that big, unstoppable mouth of his. You turned around and walked back over.

He was already watching you, his eyes following your every move. Without hesitating, you spoke. “If I hear even a single word about this from anyone, I swear to god—”

But JJ only grinned wider, clearly entertained. “Whoa, whoa,” he raised his hands in mock surrender. “Your secret’s safe with me, princess.” He leaned against the counter, wiping the dried blood from his cheek, still watching you with that infuriating smirk. “I promise not to tell the world you ‘might be Covid positive.’”

His mocking tone left you speechless, made you tense. He knew exactly what was in your hand—even if you told him to drop it, he wouldn’t. Of course not. You shot him one last look, spun on your heels, and made a break for the door.

As you left, you could still feel his eyes on you, that annoying smirk echoing in your mind. The idea that he might actually say something made your chest tighten. He wouldn’t need to yell it from the rooftops; even if one of those idiot friends of his overheard, you’d be done. For someone who usually faded into the background, JJ Maybank had a knack for making himself unforgettable.

He knew your biggest secret.

-

You prayed. At barely twenty years old, you prayed it wouldn’t be true. Begged yourself to just be fooling yourself. You even swore to never have sex again if that would help.

What would you do?

How would you tell Rafe, your family, that you had a baby growing inside you?

You fucked.

You fucked, and the double lines on that test proved it. Only you and God knew how deep into this mess you’d landed.

[gallierhouse]

how do you think armand will react to the realization that his godhusbandfather marius is still alive and presumably never bothered to seek armand out in about 500 years?

In my opinion, this is the greatest betrayal of Armand’s life. The abuse was one thing, the trafficking another, but not seeking him out trumps it all. Fundamentally, I think Armand sees love as a contract between two people. You tolerate pain, you even learn to love pain, you learn to love whatever they tell you to love and you love to surrender, and that’s love. In return for that, they choose you. Maybe they also treat you with kindness, or provide you for materially, or stroke your hair gently and hold you, but fundamentally, it’s about being chosen. It’s about sacrificing all these parts of yourself as duty and love and devotion and accepting abuse and mistreatment as self-sacrifice service as the price for devotion from someone else. It’s all “I do this for you, I let you do this to me, and in return, you have to love me.” In Armand’s mind, Marius owes to him to love him. Marius put him through so much. He saved him, he abused him, he turned him. Armand has tolerated? accepted? all of it. And Marius still didn’t go back for him? It’s salt in the wound. How could Marius let him go so easily? How could Marius not love him? How could Marius do all those things and still not love him? How could he do all those things and still not choose him? I don’t really think Armand is psychologically capable of differentiating between love and abuse, because the person he uses as his model of love abused him. Possession, control, punishment, violation, abuse, it’s all part of the shape love takes to him. If someone didn’t love you they wouldn’t bother to cage or hurt you; they’d simply let you go or kill you. You wouldn’t be worth the time or effort to torture or punish or abuse. The love is in the attention, even if it hurts. So Marius not going to look for him is the worst possible betrayal. It’s not love, it’s not abuse, it’s not even hate, it’s indifference. It’s nothing. It would be really painful for him, pain on a level he’s very rarely experienced, despite how much he’s been through.

I think he’d try to rationalize it first. Maybe Marius lost his memory, maybe he was prevented from looking for Armand somehow, maybe he was weakened. Maybe he didn’t look because he thought Armand was better off without him, maybe it was a twisted act of kindness, maybe he was setting him free? No, that can’t be true, because if Marius fucking loved him he would’ve stopped at nothing to retrieve him. He would’ve tried, at least. He would’ve tried. Then it moves to heartbreak, deep, stabbing pain, disappointment and grief and betrayal and hurt and how could you? How could you not? How could you let me go so easily? How could you not love me? How could I mean nothing to you? Then it turns into icy, apocalyptic anger. If Marius doesn’t want him, Marius doesn’t want him. He’ll never see Marius again. Marius is nothing. If it’s done it’s done. This is the end. It’d be a little like that moment of disappointing, crushing clarity all children experience when they realize their parents are pathetic and fallible and not all-knowing or all-forgiving gods. Only broken people who can’t even practice what they preach. It would turn glacial. He’d miss Marius more than life itself, and he always has and I suppose he always will, but that feeling will never again resurface. It’ll be there, somewhere, inside, in private moments, in negative space, but he won’t show it ever again. He’ll be cordial. He’ll be civil. This is his maker. It’s nice to see him. Sure. It’s nice. How’s the weather?

It’s one thing to leave, and another thing entirely to not come back. If he found out firsthand it might actually be possible to see his sanity split like the sky during a thunderstorm as it gets ripped up by lightning. I don’t think he’d react violently. It’d be quiet and terrifying. So much underneath the surface, so much he’s holding back, so much he’s struggling to understand. If he found out firsthand and in private (as in, alone with Marius) I think he’d let Marius explain. He’d still feel all the conflict, but I think he’d look at Marius and wait. Wait for the explanation that’s going to make all of this understandable. Wait for the explanation that’s going to make things go back to how they were. Wait for the explanation that’s going to make him sure Marius loves him. Wait for safety, the comfort, the familiarity. Wait for something that’ll never come and will only ever be a hollow imitation and insult to the real thing that died 5 centuries ago.

[spotsandsocks]

Fuck it Friday!

@tizniz @diazsdimples

As they say I did not mean for this to exist and yet here we are 1.3k later. Will put on ao3 later and tag everyone later- in my lunch and running out of time. And I need to set this free so I can know peace.

I got in my Eddie feels - aren’t we all right now, had thought and now… have some pain with a hopeful ending. I’m still sold in eddie being so deep in comphet he has no idea what to do. This is the push he needs. Demi Eddie for the win. No Eddie bashing here! Chris loves his dad and wants to help.

When you walk into your living room and find you parents, your son and your best friend sitting there waiting for you, you know things are bad.

To be honest he should of expected something like this.

Eddie stands frozen, awaiting his fate as his dad speaks first.

“We need to talk son.”

At least that’s true Christopher has barely said a word to him since it happened. Not that he blames him.

“We’re worried about you.”

Buck goes next but those words aren’t new he’s already said that and again Eddie doesn’t blame his friend for his feelings. Like he said last time he’s worried about himself too. It’s hard to get his head around the recent choices he’s made harder to think about the consequences.

It almost like it wasn’t him making the decisions. It’s almost like he doesn’t know who he is anymore but then has he ever?

“I’m going to go to Texas”

The third sentence comes from Christopher and is possibly the worst thing he’s ever had to listen to and Eddie has had to hear heartbreaking words so many times.

“What?”

That’s his voice. the first thing he’s said but it’s a barely a whisper. Surely even with everything that’s happened Chris can’t mean that.

His son looks at him, calm and steady and repeats himself.

“I’m going to Texas with grandma and abuelo.”

Eddie turns to his parents all his hurt and betrayal rushing to the surface, he’d thought… he’d let them back in, trusted them

His voice is louder now, “How could you? Why? Why would you try and take him away from me again. I thought..”

Chris stops him in his tracks

“They didn’t ask me. I asked them.”

There’s no words available to respond to that.

“Dad?”

His heart hurts. His head too, everything hurts. He’s fucked up again. Again, again, again. The worst things he knows he deserved this, he caused this nightmare it’s his fault, his fault every time.

Chris’ voice sounds far away.

“It’s not ‘cos I’m mad.”

Eddie doesn’t even hear him. He’s found words and they sound desperate.

“I’ll come with you.”

If Chris wants to leave he’ll do it. No matter the cost. No matter what he leaves behind.

Then that sacrifice is taken from him too.

“No. I don’t want you to.”

He can’t breathe. He’s dizzy, he can’t think. What has he done?

He can’t hear them when they call him.

“Dad?”

“Eddie?”

“Son? Mijo?”

“Eddie?”

“Dad?!”

He turns from them all and he runs.

An unheard voice chases after him.

“I’ll go.”

*

Standing by his sink trying to breathe like he’s been taught when this happens to him he doesn’t need to know who followed him when the footsteps stop.

Buck. Always Buck.

“He’s not trying to punish you”

He can’t turn around. Can’t look, not yet.

“Feels like it”

Soft and concerned, that’s how he sounds. Buck sounds like that a lot recently.

“He’s not. He wouldn’t. He loves you.”

There’s nothing but bitterness in his own words.

“Does he? Maybe he shouldn’t.”

“Eddie!” There’s censure in that word, Buck obviously disagrees and disapproves of that sentiment.

“He loves you. He’s angry and he’s hurt but he still loves you. You can be upset with someone and still love them. I think you know that better than anyone.”

He does.

“Then why is he going.”

He wishes he didn’t sound as heartbroken as he feels. Wishes he could still manage to hide some of his heart from this man.

“Because you need him to.”

Spinning around he turns on his best friend to challenge the stupidity of those words.

“What? I need him here with me. He has to stay with me.”

“Eddie.” Buck’s face and voice hold nothing but aching sympathy. It’s like a knife cutting him open which isn’t fair he’s already got so many wounds.

Then it gets worse because a new voice enters the kitchen.

“Dad… you always tell me I need to be myself, that that’s good enough.”

Eddie stares at his son standing there, just behind Buck, so tall now, so much older than he is in Eddie’s heart.

“But I don’t think you do that. You should do that if you want me to.”

It’s all to much and even rubbing his face doesn’t stop him feeling tired and defeated.

“Chris what are you talking about?

Buck looks down at Chris who nods. There’s unspoken words flowing between them and it’s obvious they’ve been talking about him.

Chris says “Buck can tell you. He worked it out. And he’s right. I do love you.”

Then he walks away, leaving Eddie staring at his friend and waiting for answers.

“Eddie, its it’s like… well, you were a dad and a solider and a medic and a husband. All before you were 20. Man! That’s a lot!!”

Buck takes a step closer.

“Hell Eddie I was a kid at nineteen, a baby, I had no idea who I was what I wanted, and you had to be all that. And your dad told me you had to “be the man of the house” when you were even younger than that.

So who are you? How can you know?

You’ve been so many things for everyone else. You try so hard to be “normal” I see that and I I know you think you’re broken, but you’re not.

You just haven’t really met you yet. How could you, when did you have the time?

That’s why Chris is going away. Just for the summer. He wants you to have time to be you. Find out who Edmundo Diaz really is.”

Eddie listens stunned and horrified. Are they right? Is that all true. He’s terribly afraid it might be.

Buck smiles soft, eyes still worried.

“It’s ok to go look for him.”

His words get stuck for a moment but this is Buck. He can say this to him.

“What if I don’t like him when I find him? What if he’s … not normal?”

“What’s normal huh? And seems unlikely- I think I know the real Eddie Diaz a little bit at least and he’s pretty great. Always will be.”

Buck’s close enough to touch now. He really wishes he would. He’d like a hug.

“Eddie, your life gave you no room to look for what you truly want for yourself. You have to do that now or I’m scared what might happen to you. You need time and space..”

“I don't want to be alone.”

The words leave his lips scared and true and then he gets something he wants for himself for the first time in a long time as Buck folds him into a hug.

He gets to be held while Buck speaks quietly.

“You won’t be. You got me. You’ll always have me. You told me I could have you back any day, well it’s any day and here I am - I’m not going anywhere.”

It’s a lot to deal with, think about but maybe he can do it with help.

“Promise?”

Buck’s body shakes with a laugh

“Pinky promise and Maddie would kill me if I broke one of those.

“He’ll come back?”

Eddie lets himself be held and given comfort by the only person who could. Which is probably something else he needs to think about.

“Of course he will, this is his home, you’re his Dad.”

He can share his fears with this man, he knows that he has before and he does again now.

“I don’t know if I know how to be anything else.”

Buck’s arms tighten around him.

“I know, but you’ll work it out cos even if you’re not sure who Eddie Diaz is, I am and I know he can do anything.”

Buck sounds so sure, maybe he’s right, maybe with help and time he can work out who he really is and what he really wants and then once he knows that, maybe he can find it.

Buck keeps holding him, keeps believing in him and that he can do anything even find happiness.

Maybe he can and maybe he won’t have to look very far.

[earthtooz]

. . . LOVE ME HARDER !

in which: it's been two weeks. you have a resignation letter in hand and a grumpy itoshi sae who is not at all pleased at your decision.

˗ˏˋ masterlist series: first part | next part ´ˎ˗

collab series ft. sixosix earthtooz aanobrain . . . !

warnings: gn!manager!reader, pining, reader and sae r in their 20s, tension, so much pining, unedited towards the end but that's bc i have no time AHH.

"are you sure?"

you stare sadly at the two weeks resignation letters in your boss’ hand, blinking once, then twice as a heavy feeling of regret sinks in your chest, further powered by the jumbled thoughts in your brain, screaming at you to say both ‘yes’ and ‘no’. with an exhale, you listen to your heart and nod your head decisively.

“i’m sure,” you affirm. sae’s face flashes briefly in your mind and you cringe internally at the look of betrayal you can see so clearly. still, you grit your teeth and don’t back out.

“we can give you a raise or extra company benefits if that’s more motivation to stay?” instinctively, a materialistic part of you is ready to give in to the offers, but the rational part of you begs otherwise. “we haven’t had a worker like you who has been able to cooperate with sae this well.”

“thank you for the opportunity, sir, but i think it’s time to move on.”

your boss gives you a pointed look before putting down your papers with a sigh. “if that’s the case then i can’t stop you. you were a good asset, y/n, good luck with your future endeavours.”

with a thank you, you make your way out of the office, a heavy dread settling in your chest as you think about how sae would take this news. how would you tell him? you’re not that heartless that you’d just leave without letting him know but what would you say? ‘hey these are my last two weeks as your manager, lol’.

“you’re late,” a voice interrupts your thoughts and you snap back into reality, greeted with the face of itoshi sae, his usual apathy masking the subtle displeasure you can hear in his tone. you ignore the way your heart jumps simply at the sight of him. 

maybe putting in those resignation forms was for the best.

“sorry. had to speak to management,” you mutter out. 

the magenta-haired athlete narrows his eyes in suspicion but before he could ask you another question, you sit down in front of him and open up your diary with the schedule for the day. “okay. let’s see what needs to get done today.”

you ignore the way sae stares at you like he has something to say and you hope he’s not observant enough to see that you’re avoiding looking him in the eye as much as possible because you’d know your heart would give out from the pressure. 

two weeks. two more weeks and you’ll escape itoshi sae forever, no matter how much you don’t want to.

***

you’re on the sidelines where sae is practising, furiously typing out an email on your laptop when your name gets called out, the voice coming from the entranceway of the field. it’s your boss but there’s a man of average height right behind him, dressed smartly with glasses and equipment fit for an office worker. 

he must be sae’s new manager after you’re gone. bless him.

straightening up, you close the lid of your laptop before setting it aside, getting up to greet him with a small hop in your step. you ignore the way sae has stopped practising at the entrance of someone new. feeling of his inquisitive gaze burning into your every move lingers as you approach the visitors. 

“y/n, this is girolan dabadie, he’ll be sae’s manager after you leave,” your boss states, gesturing to the man behind who gives you a humble wave, paired with a friendly smile. oh poor soul. you can tell he does not have the guts to work with sae.

then again, not a lot of people do. you included, which is why you’re resigning.

“hi, i’m y/n, pleasure to meet you.”

“pleasure to meet you too,” he says.

“we just thought it’d be nice for girolan here to get prepared with the ropes of his role before being thrown in the deep end next week.”

“of course, i’ll be more than happy to get you started, it is a tough job after all,” you say lightheartedly despite the last part being a sugarcoating of how truly draining it is to be sae’s manager.

and, speaking of the devil, you don’t like the way your gut churns, turbulent waves settling in your stomach in a way that makes you feel funny when you look sae in the eye. he’s staring at you so very intensely that if you hadn’t looked away immediately after, you suspect you would have combusted on the spot. there are questions that he wants answer to and judging by the glimpse of betrayal in his eyes, you can tell that it is not going to be a conversation you’ll like having. 

for now, you grit your teeth and put on a professional front. this is why you were leaving, because sae looks at you too casually, too much, and you, similarly, know him too much, too casually. 

leaving the training field, you can’t help but feel like you’re also leaving something meaningful behind.

“everyday you need to have the player’s schedules. most of them have promotions which you need to manage, so for example, sae has a shoot for adidas abibas next week. all you have to do is go to the shoot with him and foresee everything, the set managers there have that all under control, the only thing you need to control is itoshi sae himself,” you tell girolan halfway into the tour, now in your office space where you had schedules hung up everywhere. “these cabinet files are full of contracts, tax files, cash flows, all of the stuff that i have no doubt you’re familiar with.” 

“all of these just for itoshi sae?” girolan asks, looking at the stacks of paper on your desk. 

you sigh, slumping. “that’s what happens when you manage one of the most in-demand soccer players. don’t tell anyone but, it’s easier to manage the whole team than sae himself.”

eventually, the tour continues and you lead him through the rest of the spaces that he should know by heart. when you think you’re done with the introduction, it’s around 4:30, and you see girolan out to the main entrance. 

“any questions? you can have my contact so that if you have any queries or concerns, you can reach out to me over the week,” you say, handing the new manager your card.

“i appreciate the crash course today, but admittedly i’m still a little nervous,” girolan confesses, “i mean, i saw first hand just how busy you are… any personal advice for the job?”

“just… good luck. it’s a handful but it’s a good experience nevertheless. at the end of the day, i’m more grateful for this role than i am not.” 

“if that’s the case, why are you leaving?”

you widen your eyes, unprepared for that question. girolan catches on to your shock and immediately begins to apologise, afraid that he’s overstepped. “no, no, it’s okay, it’s a valid question. i’m leaving for personal reasons, ones that i can’t really go into.”

“i see.” 

after that, you briefly say goodbye to one another, exchanging pleasantries before he leaves the building. you sigh in relief, looking down at your watch to see that you only had 20 minutes now to catch up on the outstanding work you left behind, an incredibly unrealistic time limit. you can already tell you’re going to work overtime tonight.

before you can dwell too much on that fact, a voice pops up from behind you.

“personal reasons?”

you turn around to see sae leaning against a wall behind you, completely unimpressed and disappointed. you hate it when he looks at you like that.

“yes, sae, for personal reasons,” you mutter, hardening your defences before walking past him. that doesn’t shake him off though, nothing ever does.

“and what personal reasons could that be?” he asks, not batting an eye to being waved off by you like that.

you walk a little faster. “they are personal reasons, sae, meaning that they’re none i should ever tell you.”

pushing open the door to your office with more force required, you don’t see the way sae flinches slightly at your outburst, furrowing his brows at how uncharacteristic you were acting. he doesn’t shy away though, following you into your office. you continue sorting through papers like he’s not there and that irks him even more.

“but how could you not tell me? i thought you resigning would be an important topic to bring up sooner rather than later.”

“i didn’t think you’d care.”

“so?” he spits. “i would rather you tell me than me finding out myself by seeing some random who is apparently my new manager.”

you cringe at his words. “okay well, i’m resigning as your manager. happy? be nice to girolan.”

sae groans. “were you just going to let me find out by myself in a week if today hadn’t happened? were you ever going to tell me?”

you shrug, punching some holes through some papers before adding them to an (already filled) binder. “maybe.” 

sae grabs your wrist and you jump from the contact, as if his touch was lava and burns. the magenta-haired doesn’t miss your reaction, in fact, he narrows his eyes at you when he notices. you make the mistake of looking him in the eye and the churn in your stomach is back, heart skipping a beat as your hand goes limp in his.

this must be what they call a ‘moment’ in the movies, because you’re definitely having one right now, and it’s getting harder to keep your resolve up. 

“sae, please leave. i’m trying to finish up these tasks before the day ends and you’re really disturbing me,” you grumble, trying not to let your voice waver. glancing away from sae, you slip your wrist out of his grasp and step away, creating some distance.

“is it something i did?” he asks. “if you’re not leaving because of the job itself then it must be the person, right? did i do something to upset you?”

“why do you care?”

“i have every right to, you’re my manager.” 

“i won’t be in a week.”

“that’s a week away, you are still my manager right now and i want to know why it is you’re leaving.”

“can you not take the hint, sae? i don’t want to tell you!” you exclaim, shutting the filing drawer with a little more force than necessary.

“i won’t leave until you tell me.”

“you will actually hate me if i tell you.”

“i will hate you if you don’t tell me.”

“well then it doesn’t matter.”

“yes it does. if you’re just gonna leave me behind then i can’t see why you can’t tell m-”

“-if i tell you will you leave?” you snap. the silence is deafening, with sae widening his eyes in shock at your outburst. he nods firmly. “i like you. in more than a professional way. that’s why.”

turning around to the filing cabinet again, you reach out to pull the drawer with shaky hands, a racing heart, and a swirling stomach. 

“now that i’ve told you, could you please leave?” you omit to tell him that you can’t look him in the eye. not anymore now that you’ve effectively ruined whatever-was-going-on between you and the star athlete.

footsteps echo behind you, drawing near with each click of sae’s shoes. you stiffen when they stop right behind you and there’s a moment of quiet, allowing you to hear sae shuffle behind you, a hesitant hand reaches out to cover yours, gently pulling it away from the cabinet to turn you around instead.

you don’t look him in the eye, glancing at every inch of the walls in your office just to avoid him. sae frowns at your evasion.

“can you look me in the eye so i don’t sound stupid saying what i’m about to say?” he asks, a little gentler than his usual, demanding tone, but still cold enough that your gaze cuts to meet his.

“you always sound stupid,” you mutter without thinking. 

sae scrunches his face in judgement. “seriously? i was gonna say something you’d like to hear to. way to go for ruining it.” 

“what, no! tell me!”

“i don’t think you deserve to know anymore, stupid.”

“hey! if i had to tell you then it’s only fair if-”

“-i like you too.”

that zips you up and a glimpse of mirth shines in sae’s eyes, paired with an almost-unnoticeable quirk of his lips upward. 

“you do?” you stammer in disbelief. 

“yeah.” 

“oh.”

“yeah.”

there’s a pregnant silence between you two. no one ever really tells you what to do in scenarios like this, and the one time you’d like to use your brain and not embarrass yourself in front of sae, your mind decides to see itself out. “that’s… cool.”

“that’s all you have to say?”

“what, do you have more to add?”

“not really apart from inviting you to dinner with me.” 

“when?”

“tonight.”

“tonight?” you parrot. “i can’t, i have so many tasks left to finish!”

“just leave them behind.”

“i can’t! i should get them done before i leave.”

“you leave in a week, then none of these tasks are your problem anymore.”

“that’s really not the best way to think about this, sae.”

“so thank goodness you’re my manager and not someone else.”

you narrow your eyes at him, immediately knowing what he was implying. “don’t think that this is a reason for me to stay being your manager. in fact, i’d argue that i now have more reasons to quit.” 

with a ‘tch’, the soccer player rolls his eyes. “okay whatever, we’re grabbing dinner and that’s final.” he threads your hands together. “c’mon, sweets, let’s go.”

[babydollmarauders]

SAY DON’T GO — LUKE HUGHES

luke hughes x fem!reader

summary: in which y/n is in love with her fwb but he doesn’t reciprocate the feelings

warnings: slightly nsfw scenes (?), angst, betrayal

notes: based on ‘Say Don’t Go’ by Taylor Swift. i feel like this is a lot less angsty than i had originally wanted it to be, but i basically just wrote this to try and get over writers block, so it’s probably shitty but it’s at least something.

*not my gif*

“fuck.”

his one word is stuttered out in a shaky breath, the rise and fall of his chest steady under my lingering touch.

the faint aching of my legs is nothing compared to the overwhelming dread that settles in my chest, awaiting my impending dismissal.

i climb off of him, a hiss leaving my lips at the sensitivity of him sliding out of me, and drape myself beside him instead. my eyelids flutter, exhaustion creeping up on me as his arms encircle my waist.

these are the worst parts. these are the parts that ruined me. these are the parts that threw me into the inevitable mess of love that drags me through each of our nights together.

“do you need anything?” his lips press against my neck, his hands sprawling across the small of my back, pulling me deeper against him. “a water? a snack? do you want me to clean you up?”

at the shake of my head, he cuddles deeper into me, my hands raising to thread into the mess of curls atop of his head as he continues to kiss down my neck.

after a few moments, he stops, pulling away to lay beside me.

the silence is killer, only filled by our slow breaths and the occasional brush of his fingers against my bare stomach.

“well, i guess i should get going.”

i roll over, rising from the bed as i speak, my volume barely that of a whisper. i peel my discarded clothes from the floor, my breath held in my throat, yearning that tonight might be the night he disagrees. that tonight he’ll tell me not to go; to stay with him.

“yeah, that’s probably a good idea. Jack should be home soon.” his breathlessly spoken words are like a knife to my heart, pushed deeper and deeper by his nonchalance.

gone are the days that he walked me to my apartment; replaced now by an idle wave and his eyes following me out of his bedroom door.

“bye, Luke.”

i stand in the doorway, my clothing messily adorned and my hair pulled into a quick and sloppy bun on my head. it doesn’t take a mirror for me to know that my makeup is smudged, black mascara surely circling my eyes.

the door is half closed, but i linger just a little longer, holding out hope for him to say ‘don’t go.’ for him to tell me to stay; but he doesn’t, and i don’t.

“bye, y/n.” he waves me off, his focus turning to the tv in his bedroom. “see you soon, yeah?”

my head falls, looking down at my light blue toenails; his favorite color. there he went, twisting the knife.

“yeah, see ya.”

i’m slipping my sandals back on my feet by the front door when Jack walks in, stopping in his tracks at my presence.

his eyes scan my disheveled appearance, his smile dropping.

“hey, y/n/n.” Dawson enters the apartment behind him, bumping him out of the way and taking his turn to study my figure. “you okay? you look sad.”

ever the subtle man; Jack is.

“yeah, i’m fine.” i plaster on a watery smile, attempting to round him in order to leave, but his hand wraps around my forearm, pulling me back.

“you sure?” Jack questions, his eyes full of pity. “i didn’t know you were coming over tonight. wanna watch a game with Merc and i?”

i just need to be alone.

“thanks for the offer, but i’m just gonna go back to my apartment. i’m not feeling well.”

“okay, well if you change your mind, just let yourself in.” i nod at his statement and he finally lets his hand drop, giving me the freedom i need in order to slip out the still open door.

i don’t think i can get away fast enough; nearly tripping over my feet to get down the hall and back to my own apartment.

it isn’t until i’m safe and secure inside my own place, my back pressed against my door, that i finally let my emotions out with a guttural sob.

i didn’t think it would turn into this.

when Luke moved in with his brother down the hall, i was just excited to have someone my exact age. someone else who had gone to college, so we could talk about our experiences together.

that acquaintanceship quickly blossomed into a proper friendship, one that meant the world to me. albeit, it had some tension of a foreign variety, i loved it.

then one drunken night turned into a hookup, which turned into two, until Luke proposed a friends-with-benefits situation.

i’ve never been the casual hookup girl, but i really like Luke. it was a shot in the darkest dark, but i thought maybe, if i agreed, we could turn into something more.

but now we’re eight months in and i’m fading into madness, waiting for him to turn us into something more. it’s slowly developed into sadness. more hurt coming from this arrangement than love.

***

Luke drapes a blanket over top of me, head-to-toe, and although i roll my eyes, a smile breaks out across my lips.

“i’m calling it. time of death-” he cuts himself off and i can hear footsteps entering his living room before he’s stage-whispering. “Jack, what time is it?”

“uhh.” Jack drags out, and in my head i can picture him checking his phone. “9:06pm”

“9:06pm.” Luke repeats in confidence, finally finishing his previous sentence. “may y/n rest in peace. loving best friend, caring soul, and horrible baker.”

“hey!” i pull the blanket off my face, glaring up at my friend as i lift my head. “last week, you said my cookies were good!”

“shhh.” he pushes his fingers against my forehead, shoving my head back down onto the cushion of the couch. “you’re dead and i lied.”

“do i even wanna know what i walked into?” Jack asks from his spot at the other side of the living room.

“y/n is dead, may her soul rest easy now.” Luke’s faux solemn tone sends me into a fit of giggles, earning myself a snapped playful glare and a shush from him.

“yeah, i’ve gathered that.” Jack’s eyebrows furrow, his eyes flicking between his brother and i. “how did she die?”

“a broken heart.” i half joke as Luke simultaneously states ‘the plague.’

“and how did she get the plague?” Jack feeds into his younger siblings joke while throwing me a concerned glance.

“she kissed a rat.” my friend determines.

“i did not!” i gasp, “i’ve only kissed one thing in the past eight months!”

Luke gapes at me, and i realize where i’ve gone wrong.

we never determined we were exclusive. he must assume i’ve been dating or seeing other people during our arrangement.

does this mean he has?

my heart twists in my chest at the thought and i have to swallow down rising bile at the image that plays in my mind of him with another girl.

oh Luke, why’d you have to make me love you?

“my cat.” i lie in attempt to cover my tracks, and it appears to work for the most part, as Luke’s expression goes back to his casual dry humored look.

“well, then, that settles it.” he nods his head in determination and Jack chuckles.

“i’m gonna need clarification.” i mutter and Luke takes the moment to sit on top of me on the couch, his weight sinking down on my thighs.

“Yoda kissed the rat and then you kissed Yoda.” he replies and my head falls back against the couch cushions, my abdomen beginning to cramp as i laugh.

“nobody kissed a rat!”

***

“shit, Luke— i love you.” it slips past my lips like a fallen prayer; spewing out in a whimper amongst my blissed haze.

my eyes widen, my hips faltering in their pace to meet Luke’s, the currents of pleasure that wrack my body taking a back seat in my mind.

i study his face; the sweat that beads at his hairline as he thrusts into me, his rhythm never faltering; the scrunched eyes and thrown back head that doesn’t move even after my words.

i can’t decide if he didn’t hear my sex-drunk word vomit, or if he’s deliberately ignoring it; but i figure it’s the latter when his hand on my breast loosens, and he rips it back like i’m too hot to touch.

he heard me.

i said ‘i love you.’

he said nothing back.

suddenly, my lust is gone, and in great timing because it’s at that moment that Luke finishes, pulling out and falling down onto the mattress beside me.

it’s quiet for awhile, neither of us speaking as we catch our breath. his hand sprawls against my bare hip, pulling me closer to him in the darkness of my room.

“did you finish?” he whispers, and i don’t have the heart to tell him that my mood was dampened, so i nod.

“mhm.” i hum and he presses a kiss to my nose.

“you didn’t like, mean what you said, did you?”

another twist of the metaphorical knife that he jabbed into my heart long ago.

“i don’t know, what did i say?” i play dumb, as though i don’t remember the confession that played from my lips just moments ago.

his nose scrunches as he speaks, “that you, like, love me.”

“oh- no. i don’t even remember saying it.” i whisper back, and suddenly i’m grateful for the near pitch black of the room, hoping it masks the glistening tears that spring to my eyes.

“i must’ve said it in the heat of the moment.” i add and he nods.

“cool.”

cool.

he thinks it’s ‘cool’ if i don’t love him.

he cuddles into me, his head resting on my chest, and i’m thankful that we’re at my house, because rather than continue these whispers in the dark, i can force myself to fall asleep.

closing my eyes, tears leak from the corners, dripping down into my hairline.

why’d he have to make me want him so bad?

i focus on the grounding feeling of the weight of his head on my chest until i slip into dreams.

when i awake, it’s still dark out, and my alarm clock reads 3:27am in bold red lighting. but Luke is nowhere to be found.

i’ve been asleep for merely two hours and he’s already left me; gone back to his own apartment.

i don’t bother putting on clothes, rather pulling my blanket up to my chin and curling up on my side.

sobs wrack my body, finally able to let out the painful emotions that i held in while Luke was here.

i’m so sick of him leaving me.

***

my knock echoes through the apartment, but i wonder if it was even heard.

Luke had texted me to come over, but i’ve knocked twice now with no response, and i’m ready to give up when the door finally swings open.

i yelp in shock, jumping back in fright at the rapidly opened door. when i step inside the apartment, Luke is standing behind the door, still dressed in his game day suit, his tie long forgotten now though.

“oh, hey.” i sigh in relief, “i was about to leave, ya know? you took forever.”

i stop in the entry hall, turning back to look at him, and he kicks the door shut, stalking towards me.

“you took forever to get here.” his words are followed by the crash of his lips upon mine, time slowing to a stop as he pulls me deeper into the kiss.

i’m his.

his hands come down to the backs of my thighs, pulling one of my legs to hook around his waist, and on instinct, i jump up with the other. my legs wrap around him as he walks us backwards to his couch, his lips trailing away from mine and instead placing open mouthed kisses down my jawline and onto my neck.

“Luke.” i whimper, my hips grinding down onto his and making him groan.

“shhh.” he hushes me, taking a seat on the couch and leaving me straddling his lap. “i had a really bad game. i need you right now.”

a spark of anger and sadness ignites inside me at his words.

he’s with me because of his game.

not because of me.

i need you right now.

he doesn’t need me.

he needs a release.

something to channel his anger into.

i push him away, detaching him from the pulse point of my neck as i do so. his lips chase after mine and i lean back with a heavy sigh.

“stop.” i whimper and he looks up at me with wide eyes and an alarmed expression.

“did i do something?” he wonders aloud, his hands rubbing comfortingly up and down my thighs.

“i can’t do this.” i smack his hands away, rising to my feet to create distance between us.

“can’t do what, y/n?” he sighs, rubbing a hand down his face. “i’m confused.”

“this!” i cry out, pointing wildly between us.

understanding settles over him, and i can tell just from the way his shoulders slump.

oh my god.

my heart sinks, my stomach twisting in knots as i shake my head, tears gathering in my eyes.

“you know.” i spit out, disgust filling my body.

disgust for him, for acting oblivious. and disgust for myself, for being oblivious.

“i know.” he confirms my suspicions, nodding slowly.

“you lead me on.” i tell him, overwhelmingly shocked at how calm it comes out. “you know how i feel. you know i love you; and yet you kept this going.”

“i’m sorry, y/n. i-”

“when?” my voice breaks, tears spilling down my cheeks.

“in October.”

four months.

he’s known i’m in love with him for four months.

yet, he continued to lead me on. to keep this arrangement going, despite how much he knows it hurts me.

“oh my god.” my knees feel weak, my body sick. “you knew the other week. when i told you i loved you, you knew i meant it!”

he gives a weak nod, slinking back into the couch cushions.

“why would you do this, Luke?”

he looks back at me, his eyes peering into mine; and i think the worst part is that i see no real remorse.

“i don’t know.” he shrugs, and out of every possible answer, i think that’s the worst one he could’ve given.

“i gave you all of me and you gave me nothing!” i feel like i could be sick.

my best friend.

the person i thought would never intentionally hurt me.

“i can barely look at you.” i mutter dejectedly, ripping my eyes away from his in order to pace to the front door. “i never wanna see you again.”

halfway out the door, i stop, peeking back to find him staring at the wall in front of him, before i continue my journey out.

my hand clasps over my mouth, in attempt to hold in my cries until i get to my own apartment, and when i finally arrive, i spare no effort.

as though i was physically weak, my body crumples to the floor as soon as i close my door. my knees hit against the hardwood, but i’m numb to everything around me; my emotional pain far outweighing any physical.

i feel betrayed and used. my heart ripped out from my chest and stomped into the ground as though it means nothing to him.

but amongst it all, i’m most mad at myself. because despite what Luke did, i still held out hope for him call out to me as i left. to say ‘don’t go.’ to ask me to stay.

but he didn’t. and he never will.