#anyway. i’m so over this <- girl who will never ever be over it

[yamumsyadadd]

We meet again

a/n: talks of homophobia, ignore this if that isn’t your thing.

happy New Year’s Eve, it’s 9pm where I live so this will be my last fic of 2024 ;) stay safe, have fun!

It was a warm evening in Barcelona when I saw you again. I still loved you, not that you ever really knew, or maybe you did. 

You were sitting there in the restaurant with your friends. I was there too, waiting for a guy I barely knew but was giving a chance because my father had begged me to. 

It was the same routine. Giving them a ‘chance’ knowing I’d stopped talking to them. I started to realise that I was waiting for you. A forbidden love. 

You hadn’t noticed me yet, I of course noticed you, I always did. My date arrived and we sat down. He was different to you, they all were. Blonde, clean cut, men. I tried not to glance over at you. 

I engaged in conversation, I smiled, I laughed. I did everything you’re supposed to do on a date. But I couldn’t help stealing glancing at you. 

You got up to use the bathroom and as you walked by my table, that’s when you finally saw me. You stopped dead in your tracks, then slowly made your way to me. 

“Hey I’m sorry for interrupting, I didn’t see you walk in. How are you?” You asked, eyes genuine, truly curious. 

“Oh I’m good. I didn’t see you either!” I laughed even though it was a lie, somehow I find you in every room, every stadium. 

You look at my date and introduce yourself, you never need an introduction, everyone knows who you are but you do it anyway. “I was just heading to the restroom but let’s catch up soon.” You smiled, the kind of smile that isn’t real, just polite. 

“Yeah let’s.” You walk away, and I allow myself to breathe again. I smile at my date and we continue on. I keep thinking about you, I must be a horrible person. A good looking, well educated man sitting in front of me and all I can think about is you, you with the tattoos, the long black hair and cocky smile. The fingers that can make me forget my name. 

When you get back to your seat, we make eye contact, you smile then turn back to your friends. I recognise them all, how could I not. Alexia sits with Olga, Irene with Lucia, Patri and Claudia huddled together listening to whatever drama Maria and Leila have to share. 

There’s this weird thing about loving someone who you never got to love openly. A frightening feeling that your feelings won’t be shared. And a harbouring desire to scream them at you. 

It becomes suffocating knowing it is everything you want but wanting to protect your heart because you’re tired of people not feeling them same or being ashamed. Jenni loved the same way you did, loud, unapologetic and all consuming. No man your father picks could do that. Because no man was Jenni. 

Because of that, it becomes easier to stay quiet. To love from afar, scrolling through her instagram late at night, the shared photos, the messages. To love from a distance is to play it safe. 

My date eventually comes to an end. We get up and walk out, you’re still there laughing loudly. I look back at you one more time and then leave with him. 

I say goodbye to my date, thank him for dinner. He’s a nice guy, and will make a girl happy but he isn’t you. No one is. I don’t know what I’m waiting for, I guess I’m always waiting for you, I shouldn’t though because you won’t come. You never do. 

As I continue my walk home, my phone chimes with a message. I pulled it out, expecting it to be from one of the girls asking about the date, but it’s from you. You texted me a simple ‘get home safe.’ 

I smile, eyes skimming past our last exchange. I text back a simple ‘I will thank you.’ I watch as you start to type more, then it disappears. I convince myself it’s nothing and continue on home and I think about you. I wonder if you think about me too. 

—————————————————————————

It was a tumultuous relationship. Plagued by fighting and jealousy. You were young, only 20 when you met her at some gala your parents were throwing. She was older, closer to 30 than you were to your teenage years. 

You’d seen her before, at one of the many parties your parents had through. She always excluded the same energy, she knew she was hot, and that made her cocky. Always with the same group of people, who you’d come to learn was the football team your parents loved. 

It was the third party they attended that you finally met. You were forced into conversation at the bar, you knew from that first interaction that you were doomed. 

Being gay wasn’t something that was spoken about within your family, they all knew but chose to ignore it. The phrase ‘you just haven’t met the right man’ was burned into your brain. Maybe you hadn’t, but you didn’t want to wait and find out. 

After the last party of the year, that happened to be the Christmas party, you left with her. the way her hand felt on your lower back, the grip her fingers had on your exposed skin, the way she made you chant her name like she was a god. It was addicting. 

Your friends hated her. While she was never outwardly rude to them, you’d always run to them after a fight. Telling them everything she said, leaving out how you were just as bad. But that’s what friends were for, right? 

Most of her friends discouraged the relationship, Jenni loved loudly and unapologetically, you did not. It was two different words, she was a star footballer, older and wiser. You were just some rich kid who had barely started their adult life. 

After a toxic and bitter end to the 18 month relationship, she left for Mexico. Not even bothering to say goodbye. Your heart shattered into pieces. The final words she spoke to you playing over in your mind for months. 

“I’m done loving someone who won’t love me back.” It’s not that you didn’t love her, the opposite in fact, it was that you never said it. She said it within the first few months, and every time it filled you with a sense of dread. 

How would you explain it to your family? The consequences of your love would outweigh anything else, so you kept quiet. 

The multiple parties a year continued on, the Barcelona players continued to come and you’d do everything in your power to steer clear of them. Occasionally it wouldn’t work and you’d be stuck with some of them for a photo or whatever. Alexia and Irene watched you sympathetically, you hated it. 

————————————————————————

Jenni’s pov 

The air in the restaurant was charged. Like two magnets trying to join each other but I couldn’t figure why, until I saw you. 

At first I didn’t think it was you. It had been two years since I last saw you. You were older now, more elegant, still as beautiful as ever maybe even more. But then I realised you were with someone. 

A man, who was the complete opposite of me. He was blonde, no doubt rich, clean cut and probably reached of over priced cologne.

I realised, half way to the bathroom that I’d have to walk past you to get there and took a chance. 

“Hey, I’m sorry for interrupting, I didn’t see you walk in. How are you?” I asked. 

“Oh I’m good! I didn’t see you either.” You laughed and looked down. You were lying. Anytime you lied, you would look down and fidget. It was your tell. 

I introduced myself to your date, wanting nothing more than to be polite but I couldn’t help but feel jealous. For the entire 18 months of our relationship, this is what I wanted. To take you out on dates in the fancy clothes and enjoy the overpriced wine. But he got to instead. 

“I’m just heading to the restroom but let’s catch up soon.” I said, giving a small smile. 

“Yeah let’s.” I turned around and continued on to the bathroom. Gripping the sink tightly to calm myself down. It was ridiculous that after all this time, after all the girls, I still wanted you. I still loved you. 

When I returned to the table, I couldn’t help but look over at you and to my surprise you looked back at me. As I turned back to the girls, all I could think about was you. How it would feel to love you loudly like you deserved, to show you off to everyone. It wouldn’t happen though, it couldn’t. 

Most nights, from the comfort of my apartment in Mexico, I’d scroll through your burner instagram account. The one you parents didn’t know you had, it only had a select few on it and I’d like to think you kept me there for a reason, but it was likely you just forgot. 

I watched you leave with him, his hand sprawled across the small of your back like mine used too. You looked back a final time and then you were gone. Out of sight, but not out of mind. 

I took a few minutes before pulling out my phone, rereading the last few messages we had sent each other before sending a simple ‘get home safe.’ You replied quickly, you always did. I wanted to say more, tell you everything that had happened in the last 2 years, how much I still loved you, how no one was you, but I couldn’t. 

When Leila made a joke about me texting a girl, I shook my head and put my phone away. Alexia must’ve seen, giving my shoulder a squeeze and a sad smile. 

You were the one that got away. Maybe it’s better to love you from afar, I wish you nothing but happiness, even if that means finding happiness from someone else. 

—————————————————————————

The first party of the summer had arrived. As always it was a full on affair. Your parent’s house was decked out, over the top in your opinion. The older you got, the more insufferable these parties became. 

Other businessmen bought their wives and children, both the men’s and women’s team were there, celebrating the end of the season and their spectacle winning run. 

Tuxedos and ball gowns littered the main floor and the garden but you were stuck upstairs. A heavy weight weighing on your heart. You knew, the minute you went downstairs your father would try and introduce you to a man, your mother would be making comments about your appearance and your aunts would join in. 

The sound of knuckles on the door pulled you out of your thoughts. A few seconds later she was there, leaning on the doorway. Her usual cockiness was gone and replaced with what seemed to be anxiety. 

“Thought I’d find you here.” 

“What are you doing here? I thought you’d be in Mexico already?” 

“And miss this? Absolutely not.” She studied you with ease, reading you like a book, “your father is waiting for you. He has some guy he wants to introduce you too.” 

“Of course he does.” You stood up, smoothing down your dress. 

“Why don’t they stick?” Perhaps it was a thought she meant to keep in her head or she was actually curious. 

“What?” 

“The guys your father introduces you too? Why don’t they stick? You’re smart, elegant, attractive, so why don’t they stick?” 

“I don’t know.” You looked down towards the floor again. You knew, she knew, but she wanted you to say it. 

“You’re lying. Why don’t they stick?” She cocked an eyebrow, waiting for your reply. 

“Because none of them are you.” 

It was her turn to ask, and with bated breath she did, “what?” 

“None of them are you Jenni! You think I didn’t love you but I did! I do! My father can set me up with a hundred men but that’s a hundred people that aren’t you. So that’s why they don’t stick, because they aren’t you.” 

Her long legs crossed the room in what seemed to be milliseconds. Her lips smashed onto yours, hands holding your face tightly. It took a moment to register what was happening but when it did you couldn’t help up pull her closer. 

It could’ve been seconds or minutes that you were stuck in this battle of tongues and teeth but when the door opened you shoved her away from you, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. 

Your aunt Elsa was standing there, out of all the people she was the best one to catch you. Her own family, your father, considered her the black sheep of them family. Never fitting into the mould, wild and free. Loving whoever she wanted, loudly and unapologetically. It’s what you admire the most about her. 

“Your father is about to come up here and get you. You have two options.” You stared at her, confused, “option 1, you leave this room, separately and go enjoy the party. Option 2, you leave this room together, your father would be mad, your mother disappointed, the countless men waiting to meet you too. If you chose option 2, I have a friend in Mexico who can give you a place to stay, because you’ll need it. The fall out from this won’t be good. If you chose option 1, then we can walk out together, I won’t say anything ever and we’ll just pretend.” 

“I don’t want anyone else.” You blurted out, “I’ll have nothing. If I leave I have nothing.” 

“You’ll have me.” Jenni spoke up, “I can support us both, you can live with me.” 

“What if this doesn’t work out? What if it’s too good to be true?” 

“You won’t know unless you don’t try calabaza. If it truly doesn’t work out, then I’m still here. Being the black sheep.” Your aunt winked at you. “Take care of her Jennifer. I have a lot of money and can find you very quickly.” With that she left, you could hear her in the hallway, ushering your father back downstairs. 

“I’m scared.” It came out as a whisper. 

“I know. I am too. But we can do it together. If you don’t want to come to Mexico, you can stay at my apartment in Madrid or we can figure something out. Please just give us a shot. A proper shot.” It wasn’t often that Jenni begged for anything, usually she’d flash her charismatic smile and people would do as she asked. 

“Okay.” 

You left the room, together, hand in hand ready to face whatever was going to happen. The unknown is terrifying. You didn’t know how it would work with Jenni, what the future held, but she was there in your ear calming you down. 

When your father pulled you away she followed, when he exploded saying the relationship wasn’t right, she was there. She stood up for you against your parents, that’s when you realised you shouldn’t have waited so long. 

At the end of the day, all you needed was Jenni. It didn’t matter that your parents barely spoke to you, or that you were outcasted from your family. What mattered was right in front of you. 

[reverie-starlight]

happy NYE, i’m sick and want karasu to take care of me. still figuring out characterization + I’ve never written for him yadda yadda.

fem!reader, no physical descriptions, mentions of having a cold + symptoms, very short and not edited properly. karasu is very loving. I liked writing this a lot, he’s fun. FLUFF FLUFF FLUFF.

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

“hey sweet girl, how are you feeling?”

you turn your head to look at the source of the familiar voice coming from your bedroom’s doorway. your fiancé leans against the frame holding a steaming mug and looking at you with concerned eyes.

you pout pull the hood of your sweater over your head. okay, his sweater, but you’d argue that you co-own it. “ugh.”

karasu snorts and walks into the room, placing the mug down on your nightstand before sitting next to you and gently rubbing your knee. “at least you’re sitting up now.”

as soon as he’s within range, you lean into him and release a drawn out groan. he rolls his eyes, knowing you’re exaggerating a smidge, just as you always do when you’re not feeling well, but affectionately rubs up and down your back anyway.

he’d be a liar if he ever said he doesn’t like indulging you here and there, playing into your ploys for extra affection included.

he cups the base of your skull, massaging it slightly. “does your head still hurt?”

your face is still buried in his chest as you shake your head slightly. “no, thankfully. just my throat and some of my muscles.”

“poor thing,” he leans over slightly to pass you the mug. “I made you some tea with honey.”

“thanks, baby,” you smile up at him. “can you pass me a tissue please?”

karasu grabs one and pinches it over your nose with a teasing grin. “blow.”

you glare at him and you both know that if your arms didn’t feel limp as noodles right now, you’d snatch it away from him. since you can’t, however, you resign yourself to following his instruction.

“you sound like a goose when you do that,” he snickers, tossing the tissue in the trash and moving

“thanks,” you say, before taking a sip of your tea. it’s good, not scalding hot and not gross either. you’ll have to remember to make this for him when he inevitably gets sick later this week. “you should be nicer to your girlfriend who’s over here suffering and rotting and-“

he laughs and moves himself into bed and under the covers with you. “you’re such a big baby, ya know that?”

you place your tea back on the side table and lay down, pouting again in indignation. he follows you and cups your face in his hand. “you’re my baby, though.”

you fake gag and he shakes his head. “you love it when I get all sweet on you, don’t even try that whole act on me,” he lets you scoot closer and wraps his arms around you.

“wouldn’t have to if you hadn’t called me a goose,” you mumble, nuzzling against his neck despite your bitter tone.

karasu bites back a laugh and drags his nails through your scalp comfortingly. “I wasn’t calling you a goose, I only said you sounded like one.”

you peek up to shoot him another dirty look. “because that’s so much better. and here I thought you liked my voice.”

“I love your voice, angel, even now that it’s all gravelly and raw. but you don’t use your voice to blow your nose, now do you?”

you grumble something about logic he can’t fully make out and let silence take over for a moment.

as much as he loves teasing you, seeing you try to clear your stuffy nose and hearing your coughs breaks his heart a bit. he hates seeing you suffer- if he had it his way you’d be happy and in good spirits all the time. he wants nothing more than to baby you a bit, help you recover and lift your spirits.

he presses a kiss against your forehead. “can I get you anything else, pretty?”

you shake your head and pull him closer. “no thank you, tabito, you’ve already done so much for me today.”

he admires you and rubs his thumb under your eye for a bit. “do you want to take a nap?”

you shake your head. “I’m all napped out. I want to be able to sleep tonight.”

karasu nods and thinks for a minute. “how about a change of scenery, then?”

you blink and tilt your head. “Hm? I don’t know if I’m up to leaving the house, baby.”

“no, just to the living room. you’ve been cooped up in here all morning. do ya want to watch one of your comfort movies? the one with the dragons maybe?”

you nod, and wrap your arms around his neck. “but can you carry me? my legs feel a bit shaky.”

moments later you’re being scooped up in his arms and deposited on the couch with fluffy blankets, boxes of tissues and some snacks.

“all good, babe?” he checks in with you, looking down at your head on his chest before hitting play.

your chest blooms at how well he’s been treating you all day. how he’s always treated you, actually. you could not have asked for a better nurse to have around.

you hope you give him half the comfort he’s given you when it’s his turn to play patient.

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

this could 100% be better, however my last brain cell is working overtime trying to do a new character justice. hopefully I did alright 🥹🫶🏻

hope you enjoyed!!

and ty @emmyrosee for screaming abt karasu with me 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

[perceivedregret]

A beat. “So, do you not love her?”

Vi freezes in the middle of the hall the same way she did that night. “I never said that,” she mutters, her head falling forward as it all comes back.

“I love you.”

The heavy pause.

The way Vi chokes. “I–”

Caitlyn’s wide eyes.

The crack in Caitlyn’s voice as she muttered, “I’m going to go shower.”

And then the empty bed.

“I also never said it back,” Vi mutters quietly to herself.

the rest can be found on ao3, tagged accordingly sneak peak under the cut

“So, she said I love you and you didn’t say anything back? Why?”

“Powder, how did you even find out about that,” Vi sighs, throwing her arm over her face where she lays on the end of the couch of their living room, her legs thrown over the armrest.

“I heard you talking to Gert last night,” she says matter of fact, throwing herself in the opposite end of the couch, mirroring Vi so that their heads lie next to each other. Vi sighs, annoyed.

“How? We were behind the bar working all night. Wait, were you downstairs listening in through the floorboards again?!” Vi asks accusingly, sitting up to look at Powder. Power only rolls her eyes, fiddling with her newest contraption.

“No… okay, maybe, but it wasn’t on purpose. I was drop testing Wispy, seeing how high he can fall before he comes apart– takes four stories by the way– and then I just overheard you two talking. Why are you even talking to Gert about this anyway?”

“Because I trust them to not go blabbing to every Zaunite and I needed someone to talk to. Also, Gert is just, well, Gert. They found themselves in the middle of it, was able to read me like the fucking book that I am, knew that something was off. So, we talked about it, okay?.”

“Okay, but, who’s the girl? Is it that counselor’s daughter you and dad were talking about forever ago?”

Vi groans, falling heavily back into the couch, rubbing her eyes with the heels of her palms. “I’m so not having this conversation with you right now. Not ever, actually,” she sighs again, decidedly sitting up to retreat back to her room.

A beat. “So, do you not love her?”

Vi freezes in the middle of the hall the same way she did that night. “I never said that,” she mutters, her head falling forward as it all comes back.

“I love you.”

The heavy pause.

The way Vi chokes. “I–”

Caitlyn’s wide eyes.

The crack in Caitlyn’s voice as she muttered, “I’m going to go shower.”

And then the empty bed.

“I also never said it back,” Vi mutters quietly to herself. She groans again, lifting her head, now stomping through the halls to get to her room. She falls face first into her bed, burying her face into the pillow where she screams.

The thing is, Vi wanted to say it, but when the moment came, it went, and then suddenly no time felt good enough to say it. It’s been four days since and she still hasn’t said it and it’s been eating her alive. Caitlyn’s face and the crack in her voice haunts Vi and she doesn’t know how much longer she can take it. After a few minutes Vi’s wallowing is interrupted by a knock at her door that makes her tense. “Powder, I said we’re not talking about it!”

“Talkin’ ‘bout what?”

Vi pushes herself up, craning her neck. “Mylo?” He and Claggor stand on either side of her door, watching Vi like she’s a wild animal about to bite if they move the wrong way. “Claggor? The hells are you two doing here?”

Claggor adjusts his goggles as he points over his shoulder. “Benzo wanted us to walk with Little Man, didn’t want him out in the Lanes by himself while enforcer presence is up.”

“Right…. What’s up with that anyway,” Vi mutters, behind on all things diplomatic or otherwise. Between school, soccer, Caitlyn, and the bar she hasn’t had much time to catch up on the problems of the Lanes. “Gert mentioned something about a threat from the radicals against the Topsiders, but not much else.”

“You worked with Gert last night?” Mylo squeaks before clearing his throat.

Vi snorts at his obvious infatuation. “Yeah, she’s having a small show with The Chem Sisters this week, performing for the Junior Innovators Competition. Gives you an opportunity to trip over your tongue and embarrass yourself,” she says around a fit of laughter as Mylo’s cheeks go scarlet.

“Shut up, alright, I don’t trip over anything. I’m about as smooth as an eel. Besides, aren’t you the one getting hot and heavy with some Topsider? A counselor’s daughter no less! Can you believe it?” he says, turning and clapping Claggor’s shoulder with the back of hand, Claggor who looks like a deer caught in the headlights.

Vi stiffens. “How the hell do you know about that,” she mutters, eyes teetering between the two. Just then Ekko runs down the hall with Powder in a fit of giggles and she remembers– Powder and Ekko were supposed to be working together for their Junior Innovators Competition last night. “Dammit, Ekko,” she curses, hiding her eyes behind her hand as she turns away from the two.

“Hey, it’s not that big of a deal,” Claggor starts, but then Mylo is stuttering to interrupt him.

“Not that big of a deal, are you insane? Vi, dating some spoiled, out-of-touch, probably unhinged power hungry Piltie is so not not a big de –woah woah woah, hey!”

Vi doesn’t know when she crossed the room, doesn’t know when she grabbed Mylo by the collar of his shirt, just knows she’s now forcing him against the wall with so much force a picture frame crashes to the floor. Luckily for her, it’s one that had already fallen before, so there’s no glass to worry about. Unluckily for Mylo, her finger is directly in his face, her own face set in a disgusted scowl as that same hand forms into a fist.

“Don’t you ever talk about her like that again, do you hear me?” she warns, shoving him again for emphasis.

“Or what, you'll hit me? Over some Topsider? Really? You don’t even like the chick enough to say I love you back,” he spits, attempting to shove at Vi but her strength keeps him pinned.

Vi takes a deep breath through her nose, eyes shut as she shakes with agitation. “Listen, Mylo, I know your favorite pastime is picking fights with us, but I’m warning you, this is not one you want to start with me,” Vi ushers. She shoves him away from herself as she steps away. She shoulders past Mylo, giving Claggor an apologetic look as she passes by to get her board from the front door to escape into the nightlife of the Lanes.

[sarastellasari]

New Years Kiss (Part Two)

part one, part three!

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Lyra couldn’t help but feel a bit anxious as she approached the Hawthorne house. What if she messed something up? She knew all of these people, yes, but she hadn’t really hung out with them. As she passed by the gates, she couldn’t help but gawk at the enormous grounds. They were beautiful but also slightly terrifying. She couldn’t help but wonder if Grayson or any of his brothers had ever gotten lost on them.

To Lyras surprise, when she knocked on the door, instead of a doorman or security guard answering as she expected, it was Avery, her face filled with excitement, looking beautiful in a tight green strappy dress. 

“Hi, Lyra!” Avery said, reaching to pull her inside. Lyra smiled at her. “I’m so happy you came! You’re right on time! Everyone else is here, let’s go find them!” 

Avery led Lyra to a courtyard in the back. Lyra gawkedt at the decorations. The entire yard was covered in streamers and fairy lights and there were balloons floating high in the air. There were different arcade games scattered around the courtyard, including a few that looked homemade. The scent of champagne lingered in the air.

“Dang.” Avery shrugged modestly.

“Usually we’d do more, but this is just our friends.” Lyra let out a sigh of relief. She had been dreading being photographed, being crowded, being surrounded by people who deserved to be here far more than her. Avery smiled at her relief.

“I agree. I’m so glad I got Alisa to give in.” Avery’s eyes suddenly widened as she saw Nash leisurely strolling towards them, dressed in a shiny black tuxedo and matching cowboy hat.

“Hey Nash,” Avery said. Lyra waved awkwardly. “What’s up?”

“My brothers are… still getting ready. Avery, there was a delay.” Lyra snorted.

“How? They live here.” Nash grinned at her.

“Good question.” Then he strolled back to Libby, dressed in a deep sapphire gown and hat matching Nash’s. 

“It’s ok. Grayson will be here soon.” Avery said, glancing at Lyras face with a smirk. Lyra sputtered.

“I- I don’t care about-“

“Mhm. Let’s go talk with the others! Have you met Thea?” 

And so Avery pulled Lyra away from the house, and over to Thea, who was standing with Rebecca. Both girls were in gold, nearly the same shade as the streamers around the yard.

“Hey girls. Lyra right?” Lyra nodded. Thea smirked.

“Where are your dates?” Thea asked.

“Grayson and Jameson are getting ready with Xander,” Avery said, scowling at Thea, who gave her a knowing look.

“Anyways,” Avery said, clearly changing the subject.

“Thea and Rebecca, are you excited to kiss at midnight?” Rebecca flushed all the way from her red hair to her equally red dress. Thea laughed.

“As much as I’m sure you are, Avery. What about you Lyra? Are you planning to kiss anyone?” Lyra cringed, feeling her cheeks turn red. 

“Uh-“ 

“You know,” Thea continued, “I’m sure Grayson would be up for it. He’s single, you know. Oh, look! It’s Max. Come on, Rebecca, let’s go say hi.” And Rebecca and Thea left. Leaving Lyra bewildered with Avery.

“What did she mean?” She asked, turning to Avery, who cringed.

“Oh, you know. Just Thea being Thea.” Lyra rolled her eyes. This was going to be a long night. She should’ve just gone back home to her parents and brother.

Just then, Avery’s phone dinged. Her eyes lit up.

“Oh look! Jameson is inside. He needs help with something. Come with me?” Lyra raises an eyebrow. She was sure that Jameson needing “help” with something was probably code for… something she didn’t want to witness, but she didn’t want to leave the one person she knew, so she nodded in agreement. Avery cheerfully led her into the mansion. Lyra gawked at each room they passed, at every painting probably worth millions. No matter how many times she had been inside, it never got old. And she was pretty sure she had never been in this wing before.

“Avery, where are we going?” She asked, slightly worried that they were lost. Avery grinned. 

“A room.” 

“Thanks,” Lyra said sarcastically. Avery laughed. Lyra frowned. She felt a bit uneasy like she was being tricked into something.  The feeling escalated when Avery opened an elaborately designed door. Lyras eyes widened. Jameson was standing in the room. And next to him… 

Grayson was tied up in a chair. Lyra felt herself turning, asking what was going on. Suddenly, Avery pushed her into the room exactly as Jameson sprinted out. The door slammed behind them.

“Lovely.” Grayson sighed.

ੈ✩‧₊˚🥂ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚🥂ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚🥂ੈ✩‧₊˚🥂

Grayson silently cursed his brothers, Avery, and everyone else who had gotten him into this situation. He knew his brothers were planning something when he saw their smirks, but he never thought it would be this… extreme. He silently watched as Lyra hurried to the other side of the room and grabbed a pair of scissors clearly left on a table. At least they didn’t intend for him to stay trapped then.

“Thank you.” He said stiffly after Lyra cut him out of his bonds.

“Where are we?” She asked scowling, before hurrying over to the door and trying to turn the knob.  It was locked, of course.

“One of the libraries. The smallest one.” Grayson sighed.

“One of the- nevermind. How do we get out?” Grayson shrugged. “Knowing my brothers, probably a game or puzzle of some sort.” 

“Correct!” Came Xander's voice from a walkie-talkie subtly hidden on the bookshelf. Grayson cursed, jumping. Lyra burst into laughter.

“Figure out what we want you to do and do it, and you will be let out!”

“Xander I swear on all that is holy if you do not-“  Grayson trailed off. He knew what his brothers wanted them to do. 

“Oh my god. Xander, that is not happening. Xander? Xander!” But there was no response. Grayson swore under his breath, dragging a hand down his face. He probably looked like a mess- his blonde hair frizzy from fighting with Jameson on the rug, and his grey suit jacket rumpled from being tied up.

Of course, Lyra looked perfect though, in her red strapless dress and matching earrings, hair, and makeup perfect as usual. 

“Could we break a window?” Lyra suggested.  Grayson shook his head. 

“Probably not. We could try though. He grabbed a book and threw it at the window, shaking his head when it didn’t work.

“Ok, that didn’t work. Now what?” He shrieked as without warning,  Lyra smacked the window, full force, with her high heel. The window shattered. She tried again. It broke completely.

“I really hope that window wasn’t expensive.” She panted. Grayson simply climbed through, offering her a hand as she did as well. Somehow she still looked flawless.

“Let’s go back to the party. Grayson suggested. Lyra nodded.

ੈ✩‧₊˚🥂ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚🥂ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚🥂ੈ✩‧₊˚🥂

part one, part three!

[italianbabydaddy]

hey there! question: do u think lulu had a gf at any point? it seems so odd that nothing has come out as of yet of him having one? and i don’t mean like a girl coming out and saying they were bf/gf but i mean like even in photos? i can’t imagine someone like him not having a gf like at least in college?

Hi, fren!

I’m sure, like someone myself who’s become disgustingly eager in learning everything about Luigi—from before the incident and now in the current state of things now, you’ve been wondering the same thing. Especially with how so many of us have been swooning and damn near have fallen in love with the guy over this past month.

I’m not gonna lie, upon the first few days that his name was in the news and more information was coming out about him, you couldn’t presumably not assume and stereotype about the kind of life he’s had: white, Italian, conventionally attractive, evidently socially outgoing personality, intelligent, successful Ivy League education, wealthy family, etc., And of course, with the parasocial infatuation growing as time has gone on, we all wish he was ours, but we also don’t want to think he has been with somebody, as we see in our minds that there is a sense of mutual feeling and want to believe it by knowing he’s experienced relationships. I mean, look at the collective response over that apparent Polaroid of him supposedly kissing that girl. My first reaction was that my Christmas was ruined because of it. (It’s been speculated that it’s fake, so I’m not going to say it’s confirmed.)

However, after reading up on a bunch of things throughout spaces like here and Reddit (the Free L thread, particularly) and diving into really the little bit of information we know about him, I wouldn’t be horrifically surprised if he never has had a girlfriend. And I will explain why:

I’m going to use myself as an example. I’m 23 years old, and admittedly, I’ve never had a boyfriend/significant other. I’ve never even been on a date, no less, had my first kiss nor found myself having true romantic crushes—but once I have a chance with Luigi, everything will change. Anyway. The best answer that I can give you as to why this is happened is because, in all honesty, I’ve never had much of an inkling for dating/romance in my life and there really hasn’t been a time and place where it’s just come along in my life so far. When I tell people this, a lot of them are in disbelief, and argue that since I’m an attractive person to them subjectively, that I have a great personality, and the mystery of that who wouldn’t want to be with me romantically is dumbfounding.

Now, I’ll briefly mention that I’ve wondered if I’m aromantic, but that’s another story, and then there’s times where I don’t think I am, as here I am now, feening down BAD for some Italian Ivy League frat boy from Maryland that I don’t even know and who allegedly shot a CEO and now I am affectionately considering him as my man from a parasocial view?

Maybe, the time for me to be a relationship hasn’t come yet, that is, if it ever will. I’ve just never had the dire urge to seek out romance, despite being in social spaces and environments where I could interact and potentially meet someone (similar to Luigi with Greek life, school, work, etc.,). However, I will affirm strongly that nobody could ever tell me that I have not lead a meaningful life because I’ve never dated anybody; maybe instead, my understanding of a meaningful life varies across other people’s understandings, but I can tell you, with certainty, on my behalf that my life is still meaningful and one worthwhile even if I’ve never dated somebody. I can proudly state that I enjoy my life as a single person.

That being said, I understand where you’re coming from when you say how you can’t imagine someone like him—a 26-year-old conventionally attractive, outgoing, sociable, smart grown man—not ever having a girlfriend while at least in college, as he attended an all-boys high school. It’s based in a phenomenon that we’ve been sort of conditioned to go along with, known as amatonormativity, which leads to the assumption that everyone desires romantic love and that not experiencing it means something is wrong with you, making it hard for people to understand or accept that someone might not feel or have experienced romantic attraction at all. In a sense, there is societal pressure to be in romantic relationships, heterosexual or not. And when somebody doesn’t conform to that pressure, we’re shell-shocked; we are even more bamboolzed to try and actualize this news when we hear about a person that we consider romantically attractive and suitable ourselves that has not been in a relationship.

Now, before I go any further, I am not saying that Luigi is aromantic and/or asexual nor am I alleging it. Perhaps, maybe Luigi has dated someone in the past, but for some reason, we just haven’t seen any photographic evidence of him and a girlfriend for the reason being that maybe she wants to protect their privacy, the general fear/apprehension of having association with his name in the news currently, or whatever the case may be—if there is a case pointing to this. Maybe he’s never dated really at all, but he just has had casual sexual relationships that weren’t significant to either person on an emotional connection.

Or, maybe, he’s never dated at all. I say maybe in each of these scenarios because we really don’t know the truth, and we won’t know until it is known. The only way that I could even conceivably come up with an answer for the last theory it’s because of what he values and considers important in his life, and how he chooses to pursues things in life. This takes me back to his concern about agency that he discussed with Gurwinder Bhogal, and the conversations they had about the lack of free will that Luigi noticed while on his trip to Japan this year. In short, perhaps Luigi has never dated because of all the other things that he has done in his life that makes his life great for him—traveling, reading, playing chess, surfing—and that he’s never found an outstanding reason to ever consider dating since there never really has been a time yet for it happen, for whatever chance may be. He may be just focused more on his career and individuality, and doesn’t have the urge to dive further into that route.

As a whole, to answer your question: I’m not sure if he’s ever had a girlfriend at any point. Would I like to know? Sure, why not. But will we ever know? I’m not so sure. It’s a whole another investigation in understanding this Luigi Lore that we may never get to know completely.

p.s. I did NOT mean to make this into an essay, I’ve just become enraptured when talking about him and it definitely shows. I’m open to hear anybody’s else thoughts on this!!!!

[kendallroygf]

the thing is. yeah kendall feels like his whole life now is worth nothing. the one thing he was always meant to do, since he was seven years old he now cannot do. he will never get to do it. so he might as well die, right? he might as well end it all but the thing is life is never that kind nor generous. so i think kendall will try and fail. and he’ll try again and again but the world will keep its grip on him and eventually he’ll just stop trying. and yeah maybe he’ll never be a whole person (we’re nothing) maybe he’ll take logan’s advice and collect sports cars or write a book or start a new company but either way he’ll be forced to start anew. kendall logan roy died it’s just kendall now. and this outcome in itself is generous in a way because circumstances out of his control have kind of forced him to hold some accountability for his own life finally instead of counting on broken promises his father made him at 7 years old. he’s actually being forced to Be instead of just living up to someone else’s name. and he actually has people around him who still undoubtedly care. he’s sick and horrible and twisted but he is still ultimately lovable. he is still a human being weeping on the dirty ground even though he has spent so long trying not to be. even though he recanted the very thing that made him Real. the world will simply not relinquish its hold on him! tragic but somewhat hopeful in a way

[whirlinglikeaballet]

.

[steviescrystals]

there is no feeling worse in the world than missing your grandma :/

[kavehater]

I wish I could inject pasilyo into my brain so I can have permanent happiness

[artificial-condition]

Suchhhhhhh a good day

•lovely sunny weather but not too hot

•didn’t have work and don’t have work tomorrow

•took a shower in the morning and had my hair braided right after while still wet

•got bakery goods mmm

•made toffee and chopped some up which was really satisfying

•wore two different comfy cute outfits that I really enjoy and feel myself in

•blasted ridiculous songs on the way back from the bakery and looked ridiculous in a lovely way

•crocheted blanket I’m working on

•DIDNT GET A HEADACHE DIDNT GET A GLINT OF HEADACHE NOT EVEN AN INKLING OF PREHEADACHE

As far as getting things accomplished I didn’t do hardly anything but in the business of enjoying life I excelled today!

[frankmillerturnonyourlocation]

Em Farrow (tentative last name for dhsab si…..) makes a point of attending a book club at a college they don’t attend, for at least the first part of the storyline. It’s how they established and maintain a small civ friendgroup while living in the city and working under the ELE.

It’s just generally assumed by the other members that Em is a student, but when asked directly (hey, what year are you, anyway? you’re not graduating, are you?) they’ll admit to being a dropout. (nah, I failed out, haha. But Samantha said it would be alright if I kept showing up to our meetings, everybody say thank you Sam) (pan, over a chorus of thaaank you Saaaams, to the quiet club treasurer everybody loves who is a little embarrassed by being singled out and certainly isn’t going to make a fuss and REVOKE an invitation even if she’s pretty sure she never offered one because that would be RUDE and make everything worse)

[tautozhone]

cant believe i’m in a heated tense micro-argument with a teenager because she keeps saying she HATES shrek three cannot stand it but also by her own account has never seen it. she won’t say anything beyond “he hates being royal and hates being a dad big deal” and that it’s a poor quality movie. i accidentally started a whole thing because i mentioned if she wanted to watch shrek four then watching three made sense, at the very least if you’re going to shit on a movie you need to know what you’re talking about. we’re talking about shrek here though. what the fuck is happening

[luveline]

Jade can I please get a chatty af yapper sunshine girlfriend with Sirius?? Like May be someone tells her she talks a lot so she's super quiet around him cuz she's worried he'll get annoyed and break up with her but poor Sirius he misses his chatty girl and just angst with fluff

thank you for requesting! fem, 1.4k

James Potter means well. Honestly, you don’t think he has a mean bone in his body, so you try not to take it to heart. 

Unfortunately, your attempts to do so don’t work. They really, unquestionably don’t. By the time you’re outside of Sirius’ flat that afternoon, James��� small comment is all you can think of. 

“You’re so chatty I’m surprised you don’t run out of breath,” he’d said. Not without love. You’d bumped into him in Sainsbury’s and ended up talking for ages about one thing or another, you know him well, you’d even say you were friends, though he’s of course Sirius’ friend rather than your own. “But I’m the same. God, Sirius used to hate how much I talked, he’d be sick of me. I think I numbed him to it over the years.” 

You can’t imagine it. Sirius and James are best friends. With Remus, they’re the most in love threesome of friends you’ve ever met, and it’s nice; it makes you very proud to have a boyfriend who cares for others as deeply as Sirius cares for them. It’s like a constant demonstration of how he’s a good man. 

But you’d never stopped to consider that they weren’t always so seamless, and you’ve regrettably never considered that your constant talking is something that could put him off. 

You talk to Sirius about everything. There isn’t a word to describe the excitement of having someone waiting to listen to you every single night. You could tell him every detail of a day down to what colour socks you wore and you know he’ll sit there listening with his hand on the small of your back, or his fingers twined between yours. You’ve never felt so loved as to be able to just talk about everything and have him talk back. 

But… what if, this whole time, he’s been wishing for a little bit of quiet? 

What if eventually, the talking becomes too much? 

He must be with you for a reason. You aren’t holding the poor guy hostage, he acts like he’s mad for you ninety percent of the time (while the other ten percent is spent sleeping on your shoulder). 

Like now —you knock his door and you can hear him scrambling up from the sofa, the sound of a book dislodged or a remote hitting the rug, you’re not sure. The door yanks open and Sirius smiles at you, pulling you in through the gap with a familiar hand on your hip. 

“Hey,” Sirius says, tucking you against his side, “hey, did you get lovelier over the weekend?” He shoves the door closed and gives you a hug with one arm, pausing in the hall. “Sorry I couldn’t see you. I don’t think we should miss another weekend.” 

You have a lot to tell him. It’s been ages since you spent nearly three days apart, but James’ conversation stays at the front of your mind. 

You decide to be less overwhelming, but not less loving, curling your arm behind his head to pull his cheek down for a kiss. “I don’t think so, either.” 

Sirius tilts his head away from you in an invitation for more kissing. 

You’re at home in his flat. You take off your shoes and hang up your jacket. You change into a pair of jogging bottoms with loose legs and let him hoist you onto his bed for a few stolen kisses, though he isn’t propositioning you, and you end up laying across his bedspread with one of your legs in his lap as he tells you about his days without you, his thumb sliding with pressure down your calf. 

“Mostly I wished I’d asked you to come over anyways, even if it was just to sleep together at the end of the day. Maybe next time we can do that?” he asks. 

“Of course we can.” You smile at him indulgently. “I’d come over for twenty minutes if it was all I could get.” 

“Or I can come to you,” he says, “even if it’s just twenty minutes.” 

He smiles, a beaming thing, and leans down slowly for a soft kiss. 

“So,” he asks, his breath on your lips, “how was your weekend? Lonely?” 

“So lonely,” you tease lightly, eyes fluttering closed as he continues his massaging of your leg. “But it was okay. I missed you, really, and didn’t do much else.”

“No?” he asks. 

Your voice takes on a shine as he squeezes your knee, “Missed your hands.”  

“I missed your everything.” He grabs for your forearms and pulls you into a sitting position. “But everything was okay?” he asks more seriously. 

“Everything was fine.” 

He raises his eyebrows, but eventually lets them relax. “Well, okay. Good, sweetheart, I’m glad it was okay.” 

He persuades you into the kitchen to sit with him as he makes dinner, refusing to let you help, and yet insisting you be there in the same room, as though you’d like to be anywhere else. Sirius makes your favourite of his usual rotation, offering you spoonfuls for tasting, gaps of silence stretching as he struggles to find new conversation. You start answering his questions but remember time and time again that Sirius could become totally sick of you. He might already be. 

Sirius puts the food on a low heat and washes his hands. He wipes them dry, but when he takes your face, dampness lines the inside of his fingers. 

“I’d like for you to tell me what’s wrong,” he says gently, stroking at the line of your startled frown, “before it gets worse. Do you want to talk about it?” 

“Nothing’s wrong.” 

“Please don’t, lovely. If I’ve done something wrong, please tell me. I want us to last forever, and we can’t do that if you won’t tell me when I upset you.” 

“It wasn’t you,” you say instinctively, then regret it. 

“So someone has?” he asks, still so gentle as his hands coast down your neck like he’s sculpting you, coming to rest on the slopes leading to your shoulders. “You can tell me anything. You don’t have to keep it to yourself… please.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Sweetheart.” He frowns deeply. Couldn’t look more upset. “Of course I’m sure. Why wouldn’t I be?” 

You chew it over, not wanting or willing to cause ructions between Sirius and his oldest friend. “Well, I saw James today at the shop, and… we were talking about you…” 

He waits. “And?” 

“And he told me you– you don’t like talking. That you didn’t like talking, that James used to make you sick of it. So I know I talk too much and you’ve never made me feel like I shouldn’t, but I guess I got into my head thinking you’d get sick of me, too.” 

“When we were younger I didn’t like much of anything.” He curls an arm behind your neck to hold you in place, but it’s not a dominant sort of movement, only protective as your noses inch together. “Did you ever read that poem by Bukwoski? Let It Enfold You?” 

“What?” 

“I’m not very good at explaining myself. I thought if you knew the poem, you’d–” He laughs near your cheek. “I hated everything. It wasn’t James’ fault. He did make me sick of it sometimes, but I just wanted to hide from everything.” He breathes out slowly. “I’ve never wanted to hide from you. I can’t get sick of you. Do you get that? I can’t get sick of you. Listening to you is the best part of my day, you’re my personal chatterbox.” 

“Chatterbox,” you repeat teasingly. 

“You could talk for Wales,” he says. “And I love it, I don’t want you to stop, because I’ll never be sick of it.”

“I don’t want it to be some secret resentment.”

“I don’t resent you for anything. I knew exactly who you were when we met and I love it.” He takes your face again. “I love it,” he repeats. 

You steal a little kiss against the corner of his lips. “What was the poem?” you ask. 

“I’ll find my book, and you can read it to me. What do you think?” He takes a slow kiss as you had in the same place, words like honey. “I miss your voice.” 

He’s basically pleading. It’s not like Sirius to plead, but you pull it out of him. 

“Can I have my dinner first?” 

“The one I made while you deprived me?” he asks. “Yes, if you must.” 

He takes another kiss, but you’re happy to give it. 

[spider-stark]

SWORN RIVALS

Benjicot Blackwood x Bracken!Reader

Summary - Taking up sparring with your sworn rival is likely never a good idea.

Warnings - barely edited, blood, implied fighting, suggestive language but no real smut, likely ooc given that the episode hasn't even aired yet lmao

Word Count - 1.1k

!MINORS DNI!

// masterlist // send me your thoughts // comments & reblogs appreciated! //

Pain splinters throughout your hand as your knuckles collide with his jaw. He stumbles backwards—just barely managing to keep himself from falling right onto his ass. 

“You fight like a girl,” you jeer, purposefully antagonizing him. “Though I suppose that’s to be expected of a Blackwood.” 

A raspy laugh rumbles through Benjicot Blackwood’s chest—a bitter, deep sound that sets your toes curling. 

“You’ve got quite a mouth on you.” Forcing his chin high, he flashes his crimson-stained teeth in a wry grin, blood dribbling from the corner of his mouth. He muses, “But perhaps we should put it to better use, don’t you think?” 

You cut your eyes at the bawdy implication. “You’re disgusting, Ben.” 

Another chuckle as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, inadvertently smearing blood along his bottom lip. The sight is entrancing—in a morbid sort of way. It glistens like pomegranate juice and, for a mere breath, you wonder if it would taste half as sweet. 

“C’mon!” Ben’s teasing tone slices through your thoughts, forcing some sense back into you. “Don’t act like you’ve never thought of it before,” he says, waving a hand between you both, “the two of us–” 

You don’t let him finish his sentence, cutting him off with a sharp glare. “I haven’t,” you practically snarl, taking a half-step towards him. “And you shouldn’t either,” you add, “I’d much prefer to be left out of your…" you blow out an exasperated breath, "depraved fantasies!” 

“Oh, but you are my depraved fantasies, sweetheart.” Ben’s grin widens as you groan, shaking your head at him. “You're also a liar, Bracken,” he adds, “and a shitty one, at that!” 

“You can believe whatever you want, Blackwood—but that won't make it true.” 

“Just admit it,” he continues. Swinging one foot forward, he takes a lazy step towards you—then another. “That’s why you train with me, isn’t it? ‘Cause you’re so desperate for someone to put you in your place—and none of those pansies along the Red Fork are fit for the task, are they?” 

You grit your teeth, knowing that his words aren’t entirely false. 

Training with Ben hadn’t necessarily been a purposeful decision. It was something that just sort of happened. Yet, in spite of the rivalry between your families, you’re willing to admit that you do prefer training with him over the Tully or Roote boys. 

He fought you like a true opponent—unlike the others, who felt the need to pull their punches or slow their own strikes, forever treating you like a helpless maiden rather than an equal. 

In many ways, you found Ben to be more tolerable than any other boy in the Riverlands, anyway. He was fierce and tough and undeniably skilled with both blade and fists, making him your ideal sparring partner. 

You still despise him, though—if only because that is what’s expected of you by your father, the Head of House Bracken. 

“Big talk from the boy who hasn’t gotten a single hit in today,” you smugly remind him. “Perhaps if you spent as much time training as you do thinking with your cock, you might actually stand a chance at victory, Benji.” 

Less than a foot-or-so of space separates the two of you when he finally stops, his grin souring like rotted fruit. 

“Don’t call me that,” he chides, his bottom lip jutting slightly. Your brow furrows, trying to discern if he’s pouting or if it’s simply swelling from when you hit him. “Besides,” Ben continues, “have you ever considered that maybe I’m just going easy on you?” 

You don’t buy his weak attempt at goading you—though you do entertain it, asking, “And why would you do that?” 

His shoulder lifts into a languid shrug. “Maybe I like it when you push me around,” he drawls, teasing. 

Another step and he’s towering over you, his chest mere inches from yours. His scent—a blend of leather and rich sandalwood—floods your nostrils, stirring your senses and leaving you dizzy. 

“Although,” Ben’s smirk returns, laden with his usual mischief, “I think I’d like you even more if you were on your knees-” 

A scoff rips from your throat, cutting him off with a rough swat to his chest. “Oh, go fuck yourself, Blackwood!” 

“Only if you’ll watch, Bracken,” he croons, mocking you. 

Every inch of your body is suddenly humming to life, an unrelenting blaze of rage—or was it desire?—setting your nerves alight. Before you can muster a response, a comeback, his fingers have closed around one of your wrists. 

“Go on,” Ben murmurs, his voice tantalizingly low. Your breath hitches as he presses your hand to his chest, feeling his pulse beat beneath your palm. “Hit me,” he dares, louder now. “Push me.” 

You don’t speak—don’t move, as those storm-cloud eyes dip once again. “Fucking do it—” 

You cut him off, fingers curling around the scarlet fabric of his tunic—you should kill him for being so crude, for acting so utterly lascivious! 

And yet, despite all logic and reason, you tug him closer. Pulling him down to your level in one swift motion, crashing your lips together in a kiss that is anything but soft. 

On instinct, your other hand slips to the back of his neck, tangling your fingers in soft, brown hair. You feel his heartbeat stutter beneath your fist, still gripping his tunic. For no more than a breath, you worry you’ve fucked this whole thing up. 

This is wrong! You scream at yourself. Wrong wrong wrong! 

But then he moves—hooking an arm around your waist, his nails sinking into your hip in an effort to bring you closer—and you loathe just how right this feels. 

Your legs tremble as his tongue slides along your lower lip, a soft moan spilling into his mouth. You feel him grin against you—can taste the blood on his lips, the bitter sweetness dancing on your tongue as he utters, “Eager, are we?” 

Tightening your grip on his hair, he hiss slips from his teeth. “Shut up.” 

He obliges—his mouth drifting from your lips to your jaw, leaving a bloody trail of kisses in his wake. You try not to think as he finally reaches your neck, earning a soft whine as he nips at your flesh. You try to forget who he is—that you’re supposed to hate him—as he shoves his leg between yours, offering you the very friction you so desperately desired. 

“This changes nothing, Benji,” you pant. 

He bristles at the nickname, letting his teeth sink deeper into your flesh, a deep bruise already blooming along your neck. “Sure." His own breathing is frantic and uneven as he rasps, “Whatever you say..” 

Your hand falls from his chest to his breeches, fingers already fumbling with the laces when you choke out, “I still think you’re disgusting, Blackwood.”

His own touch disappears beneath your tunic, fingertips trailing along every inch of your skin until his palms finally skim along your bare breasts. He gives one a rough squeeze before flashing that stupid, bloody grin of his. 

“And you’re still a liar, Bracken.”

a/n - writing fan fic for a character that hasn't even appeared on screen yet is wild. (hbo, this better be bloody ben or else I'll riot because this is perfect casting). anyway, I don't wanna be held accountable for how terrible, short, and rushed this is (I was bored and didn't feel like putting more effort into this than necessary rn) OR how wildly ooc this will likely prove to be come Sunday.

also---turns out that writing without actually knowing the character is hard! who'd have thunk, am I right?

[torubeth]

degradation taken too far (mature content 18+)

context/warnings : it’s smut, so kids shoo! hell of a lot of degradation. they’re so mean i hate them. (swearing, words used : slut and slutty) angst to i have no idea what. pls do lmk if i missed any tws. and as always, its not proofread :p gojo ver.

ryomen sukuna ‘is that all you can do? all your yapping earlier about ridin’ me was just talks? answer me’ his sudden shift in demeanour has you feeling really small. sure he is a rude ass prick but not to you. never to you.

‘no- i can take it. i really can ryo’ tears sting at your eyes as you struggle to take in his full length. his hands giving your waist a small squeeze.

‘yeah and that’s all you’ve been saying for the past goddamn fifteen minutes. either you take it like a good girl or i’ll just have to find someone who will. trust me, i can’ he eyes held no remorse of the words he just spewed and that’s when you break.

correction, you shatter.

somewhere in the back of your head you knew he’ll never leave you but him wording it out makes it seem like it’s bound to happen.

and so tears stroll down your cheeks, your hands and legs giving out on you, your body going limp against his and you whisper the same thing over and over again.

‘don’t leave me ryo. i’m sorry. didn’t mean to upset you. i’m so sorry. don’t leave’

quickly his arms wrap around your body protectively, your face between his shoulder blade and neck, wetting the area with fresh batch of tears.

‘i could never leave you. you’re-’ you’re it for me. ‘you’re always the one that keeps me sane. there’s no way i’ll ever leave you. i’m sorry baby, forgive me. i didn’t mean a word of what i said’ he says.

when he didn’t get a response from you ‘look at me’ he whispers. slowly you leave the comfort of his neck and meet his eyes.

‘i didn’t mean it. you could leave me on deathbed and i still wouldn’t mean it’

‘i can’t leave you ryo. i love you way too much’ you sniffle, new tears threatening to spill so you go back to huddle against his neck.

god. he knows you mean it. and that’s what makes him feel like a dickhead.

‘me too, i- i lo-’ he struggles, just as your palm reaches up to cover his mouth.

‘i know ryo, i know’ you whisper, placing your forehead against his, both of you basking in the quietness of the surrounding.

geto suguru ‘fuckin-! ah shit! some insane grip you have on me baby. can’t move if you clench and lock me up like that’ he smirks against your neck.

‘and a bit quiet today ain’t ya? you sure had a lot to say to satoru earlier heh’ he remarks.

‘we were just catching up suguru, nothing-! nothing more’ you whine.

‘catching up you say? does catching up require smiles and touches? do they angel baby?’ he raises his eyebrows.

‘no..’ you avert your eyes away from his.

‘that’s what i thought. so for that, now you pay’ he pulls out suddenly, and pushes all the way back in making you yelp out loud.

‘sugu! ah fuck, i don’t think i can go another round baby. s’too much!’ the pressure was starting to get to you and you were starting to lose stability.

‘hah, i know you can baby, this slutty pussy’s all you’re good for anyway. fuck, doesn’t matter whose it is, as long as you’re filled. am i right?’ his words pierced straight through your heart.

since when did he-?

out of reflex, your hands reach out to touch his face to make sure that this was a dream nightmare. otherwise there’s no way he-

‘don’t touch me with those filthy hands’ he spits but makes no effort to push your hand off.

‘do you really think that’s all i’m good for?’ your voice is soft, filled with pain, and suddenly it’s like he’s broken out of his trance.

what the fuck am i doing, he thought.

slowly he pulls out, all whilst holding your hand against his cheek.

‘absolutely not. no. fuck, did not mean it angel. i promise. i- i don’t know what came over me-! didn’t mean it. please i’m sorry. next time if i ever lose my shit with you, i want you to take the nearest sharp object and plunge it into my chest’ he heaves out a guttural sigh.

‘you were really mean you know..’ you wipe your eyes.

‘i know baby, fuck. i didn’t mean it. i did not mean it. i’ll never do it again princess, ever’ he repeats.

his face lands on your chest, thanking all the gods and the stars out there for giving him another chance.

he’ll never screw up again and that’s a promise.

nanami kento ‘you really couldn’t wait for a few hours? just had to go and think with your cunt, right? have you no- ugh! no shame?’ his thrusts were sloppy as his hands were placed around your hips.

‘kento- slow down baby, i- i don’t think i can last’ you whine, hands clutching at the sheets.

‘no. you asked for this you little slut. so shut. the. fuck. up. and take it!’ each syllable was accompanied by a harsh thrust.

the usually composed, sweet and calm nanami was nowhere to be found. he’s never once called you a ‘slut’ and what caused this? you rubbing him through his pants and riling him up at his office dinner earlier tonight.

he warned you off multiple times but did you listen? no.

‘why are you so quiet now? i thought this is what you wanted’ his voice comes out raspy and cold.

a quiet but audible whimper escaped your lips, making him halt his actions.

slowly he pulled out, gently laying you on your back as your body shook with each sob.

‘sweetheart…? why are you…’

you look up at him, eyes puffy and swolllen ‘i’m sorry kento, it’s just that, you’re never home these days and i missed you so much’ a cry that’s sure to crack his heart leaves your lips.

‘i just wanted you all to myself for tonight but i didn’t mean to be a bother-’

his warm body hovers over yours, ‘you’re never a bother baby. always know that. you will always be at the top of every and any list i make. there’s nothing more i want than coming home to you everyday after work. and i didn’t mean to lash out at you. you didn’t deserve that, i’m sorry’ he leans down to press a kiss to your forehead.

‘you will always have me sweetheart, never forget that. now let me make it up to you yeah?’

[elliee3e]

light size kink & age play w logan because i’m feeling absolutely depraved today</3

like, jesus FUCK this gif. oh my lord, i need him to throw me onto his bed and ravage me right now please !!!

content warnings ;

age play, size kink/difference, reader’s described as very small, innocence kink, light sub/dom themes, mentions of piv, creampies, tummy/dick bulge (i couldn’t help myself)

author’s note ;

also in the process of making an old man logan drabble !! hopefully i’ll try to post it later tonight, but if not it’ll definitely be out before monday — bare with me y’all…

oh, logan is an absolute sucker for size and age differences.

logan, who by now was used to sleeping with people of course younger than him — he knew how big he was compared to them, and knew he was pretty big just in general and everywhere.

but you, oh baby. you could barely take his dick without having a bulge at least somewhere in your little body, right from where the thick head of it sat, stretching whichever hole he was fucking, making it his.

something about the way you were also just so needy for his attention. you needed him for everything, even for things as simple as tying your shoes or fixing your outfit. logan would never forget the moment you came out of the shared bathroom in your guys’ room, wearing a small little baby pink dress that barely reached the smooth, soft skin of your little mid-thighs, as you held up a pair of white stockings for him to put on for you.

he knew you enjoyed it far too much. enjoyed the way he would sigh, patting his lap invitingly for you to come over.

“pretty dress for a pretty princess, hm?” he would hum gruffly, but the tone of appreciation and approval still stuck out as he started stretching the stockings out a little with his big hands. big rough hands you wanted all over your body, squeezing and kneading at your supple flesh. your heart would flutter at the words, making you nod and bite your lip, a sentence you tried to keep inside ending up out anyway. “bought it for you..” you would mumble softly, voice slightly ashamed, feeling as his hands started to stretch the stocking over your pretty legs.

and oh, he loved your legs so much. he loved the feel of that smooth, soft skin underneath his roughed up hands when he would run them over your skin, or even when he would press little kisses to your ankle when he would do up your heels, scruff rubbing against your sensitive flesh. it felt so wrong but so right. so taboo to have such a bigger, older man like logan — a man who had been around for centuries longer than you had, who knew exactly what to do to please a woman, you being no different.

and he loved your body head to toe. in his eyes, you were the most gorgeous girl ever. his gorgeous girl, and he would do anything to make sure you knew that.

“yeah? bought it for me, that right, baby?” he asked, a low chuckle coming from his throat at your words, a sound that made your stomach flutter with warmth — and logan seemed to know, as his free hand ran up and over your little stomach: his big palm splaying across it and covering more than half of you there. where he had filled you up with his cum merely a few hours ago. your stomach, that everytime he pounded into you, felt like he was carving a spot just for his dick — your tight heat struggling to even take all of him at times, but it was always worth it to feel that warm heat pour into your sweet pussy, filling you up to every brim. it was enough to make you weak, but after all — you were always weak for logan.