#but it would also be really shitty to like use him for his powers and then not actually be friends with him | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

madamechrissy · 19 days ago

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Losing Control Now

Pairings: Mobster Gojo x bartender F!reader

Summary: Something about running the Gojo mafia just makes Satoru so bored. Boring, boring boring. Sure, he loves money, he loves women, he loves snorting snowy powder off their bodies. He loves the power that comes from it- but he's just bored. That is, until he stumbles upon you, the brand new bartender that makes him pause, falter, and then soon he becomes obsessed, with knowing you, in every single way. Paying off your mom's debts and working two jobs, you're exhausted, but something about this pretty Mob boy just makes you... excited again. How far in are you, and how far is Satoru in the mafia world? All he knows, is he must have you.

CW: Sexual content, mafia themes, drug themes, violence, obsessed Satoru Gojo, oral sex, possessive Gojo, drug use and drug dealing, lots of hurt/comfort- This part- mentions of blood and violence, mentions of drugs, A TON of fluff, cute ass Satoru being the biggest green flag, fingering, oral (f recieving) shower and car sex, breed kink, multiple rounds - wc - 7.3k

That Gojo art is by michi_ia on X, based on Satoru from Pour it Up

<<<part four - masterlist - playlist- Part six (FINAL)>>> (coming soon)

Part Five

Your brother was even more clueless and truly less involved than Satoru really knew, Suguru and him interrogated him, but he was so fucked up and scared, it really wasn’t worth it. He knew a bit about the debt with your mother and Mei, but was not reliable. So that left one more person, your mother herself, who Satoru promised to give money to anyway.

This isn’t how he thought the first meeting with your mom would be, waiting at a seedy little truck stop in the middle of town where she said she’d meet him. He hopes you won’t get mad, but you clearly need some better people in your life, and your family is really shitty. Your mom is a starved, drug addicted version of you, bits and pieces he sees where you came from, with dead eyes.

“You’re a Gojo, huh?” She asks then, cigarette in her hand. Gojo glares a bit at it, smirking and trying to hide his disgust.

“In the flesh. And you’re my girlfriend’s mom,” he says it lazily, drawing out the words as he eyes her, tilting his head. “Have a seat.”

She sits across from him in the booth, Satoru swallows down the guilt when he sees your message, asking how his morning is. He smiles at it quickly, texting you back and hoping you’ll understand. You’re too important to him now, he can’t just listen to you, not when you’re getting screwed over by the world and he can actually prevent it from happening.

“Who’d you really get in debt with?” She sputters.

“Excuse me?”

“It’s not Mei, she’s a go between. So, who’d that gambling addiction really fall on?” She sighs now, looking away nervously at the clock ticking along the wall, fidgeting. “I can help you if you tell me.”

“I know all about you, the Gojo family, acting like you’re so much better when you’re the same.” He smirks, raising a thin brow.

“And you think you’re some great person, extorting your daughter, playing on her fucking feelings?”

“You don’t even know all I did raising her!” Her voice is high, agitated, he just calmly smiles.

“That’s your job, her job isn’t to take care of you. Do you even give a fuck about her?”

“No,” her words make him blink a bit. She sees what she’s done, covering it up, clearing her throat. “I mean of course I do.”

“Mmm, you’re very convincing,” he sips his coffee, holding the cup that looks stupidly small in his hands and leaning back in the leather plush of the booth. “I can get your debts knocked down, if you leave her alone for good.”

She blinks then, leaning forward. “How much will you get knocked off?”

“With these fists? I can knock the whole thing out.” He cracks his knuckles, smiling now, and she tenses as she sees the sweet guy in front of her clearly is every bit a Gojo. “You’ll give your house and whatever else you own in your name 0to them, she won’t need it anymore.”

He hopes you’re also okay with that.

“I can do that, but I’ll need some money to run on until I get on my feet.” She pouts and puts on a look, he chuckles then, as if he didn’t already fucking know she’d ask for money.

“The condition is that you never ask her for money again, is that completely understood?” He slides over an envelope, she pauses then, nodding as she eyes the money with big eyes. “And don’t gamble it all the fuck away.”

“I won’t, I promise. I will disappear.” He nods, sipping his coffee again and watching her practically bounce out to her junky little car in the parking lot. He picks up the phone then, calling you.

“Don’t be mad.”

“Satoru, what now?”

“Just… meet me here?”

In about twenty minutes you’re walking in, his coffee is filled with fresh sweet mocha, and he’s already got food ordered for you. You sit right next to him, pressing a kiss on his cheek as he wraps an arm around you. He sighs when he feels you against him, right where you belong, while you hug him closely, and he presses little pecks along your brow.

“Hi baby,” he says then, and you smile, before glaring. “What? Eat.”

“You’re up to something,” you do start nibbling though, sighing, you’re in your pretty work outfit. “I am starving though so I’ll bite.”

“Good, you got a break?”

“I have an hour, Mr. Nanami is pretty cool though if you need more time,” he nods then, at least he doesn’t have to worry about that, not that he wanted you to even work much longer. “What’s up, Satoru, everything okay? Now you look tired, did I rub my dark circles on you?”

“Nah, they’re still there, under that concealer,” you glare again and he grins. “They’re hot, don’t worry.”

“As long as you think so,” you nibble the eggs and hum happily, shutting your eyes for a moment. “Thank you for breakfast.”

“It’s a trashy place but the food is actually amazing, right?” You nod and he smiles as you eat, hoping the food will help your mood before he tells you. “So, like you love me right?”

Your fork clatters to the plate, blushing as you look at him. “I… you… Satoru um I said…”

“Shush, I already know you do.” He touches your thigh with his big hand, right over your stockings, sighing. “I’d do shady things - well shadier than usual - to fuck you in that on your desk.”

“Satoru!” You cover his mouth, wildly looking around at the tired patrons there, and he just chuckles again, kissing your palm and holding your wrist then, long fingers wrapping around it. “You’re insane.”

“I know, another thing you love.”

“Shush.” You shove a bite of pancake into his pretty but big mouth, he laps his lips with his tongue to taste that syrup, and at the moment it’s too perfect.

You want too much, maybe things you’ll never have, things you never thought you could have, after that night in his arms on the boat, you have been dying to see him again. Just a couple days without him hurt physically, he’s pulling you to him like gravity, making you crave him constantly, more and more. You want to be free from this, he’s finally given you that hope, and it’s just scary.

“Maybe I do love you, what would you say about that?” You feed him another bite, and his blue eyes soften, as his hand grips tighter. “That it’s insane, that I barely know you?”

“Move in with me.”

“Wha-!?”

“Yeah, I was gonna say that better…” he rubs the back of his neck, as you’re both in this dinky, dingy dive place, shoving food in each other’s mouths as you confess things that are insane.

“You what now!?” He’s shoving more food in your mouth, nodding as he looks down at you, and you shove another bite in his. “That’s insane.”

“Well, I may have paid your mom off,” he chews and blushes more, bashful at your open mouth in surprise. “And promised your house to Mei, and maybe I’m about to help Sukuna beat the fuck out of the Zenin and wash away the rest of her debt?”

“Satoru - I… what?” You’re blinking at his words just spilling, he has a pretty blush on his cheeks then, as if he’d admitted some cute little embarrassing moment of his life, not a full ass insane proposal. “You saw my mom?”

“Right before you, she was… she’s a bitch.” You can’t help but snort a bit, shaking your head and sipping on the coffee getting cooled by the fans above swirling in circles, barely cooling you down yourself. “To say the least.”

“She is, she’s always been though.”

“Well, I don’t let anyone hurt who I care for, so I’m sorry but I won’t fucking stand for it, okay?” You blink back emotions, torn between thanking him, asking him questions and kissing him - every emotion you can imagine. “I know I’m too involved, I know none of this is your permission. I’m like a red flag.”

“You’re so not a red flag, maybe an intimidating green one.” He smirks again, you cup his face gently, leaning closer to him in the booth, feeling his big hand on the small of your back. “How much did you have to give her?”

“It’s not shit for me, I bought a boat for a date.”

“True… you’re crazy, y’know?” He pouts so cute at you, the man you fell in love with so quickly it still feels like a fucking whirlwind, you’ve hardly had time to process this face.

“Does that mean you won’t move with me? If not, I’ll get you a place and pay for it for you. But the house needs to go, not just for the debt, it needs to be gone for you, it’s a fucking ghost of a house, okay?” His words hit deep, how someone who just met you knows more than anyone touches you deeply.

You’re close to crying at his words, the tears burning your eyes, when he holds you against him, your arm wraps his narrow waist, burying your face against his chest and sighing. “What’d I do to deserve this?”

“Just exist, that’s enough for me,” you lean up and kiss him, igniting the spark that’s always there around him, he exhales as he pulls back, hands gripping your body even tighter. “Is this a yes?”

“What if you hate living with me? What if I snore really bad-”

“You already do.”

“Hey! What if I’m messy?”

“Your place is clean.”

“What if I suck at cooking?”

“I have a chef.”

“Satoru,” he has an answer for it all. “You sure?”

“It’s the best way to always keep you safe - in fact marriage would be preferable, but I didn’t wanna unload all of it today. But living with me, you’ll be protected from anyone who has it out for her, or your brother. He’s also quite a character, ya sure there’s no criminal in you?”

“Maybe a bit,” you tease, he smiles then, as you take a shaky breath, feeling your pulse race from his proximity. “I don’t want you to regret asking me, then I’m a… burden.”

“Sweetheart,” he caresses your cheek, shaking his head. “You could never be a burden to me, okay?”

“Come here.” You kiss him again, pulling back and running your fingers through his silky white locks. “You know no boundaries.”

“I know,” he smiles though, as you kiss him again. “You love that.”

“When do I move in?”

“Shit, yeah?” You nod, and he grins way too big. “What if it’s all a trap, and I never let you go?”

“I don’t want to go anywhere,” your words are genuine, so sweet then, he melts even more for you. “You’ll have to evict my ass.”

“Oh yeah? Gonna pester me?” You nod, making him kiss your nose and chuckle as it scrunches up, feeling so good in his arms it should be more scary.

“All the time. When will this happen?”

“You barely have shit to pack, I’ll help you bring some things over tomorrow. Tonight I have… to deal with things.” His words get quiet, panic sets in as he says it then, you tense at his words and their implications.

“Deal with things?”

“I’ll meet you at the club after, okay?” You frown now, thinking about the danger the boy you literally love could be in. “Don’t worry about me, I’m kind of a badass.”

“You’re just a little cutie.”

“Psh. I’ll show you cute,” he’s scowling and it’s too cute, when he presses another kiss on your lips. “I’ll be okay.”

“I’ll be waiting, then. Probably panicking.”

“You’ll be the first one I see when I’m done, okay?” You nod again, snuggling against him, lost in the little world with him until you know you have to leave.

“Okay I’m going to work, Mr. Fix it.”

He snorts at that, shaking his head. “Unfortunately, people tend to be motivated by money or threats, I happen to have both.”

“Big, Bad Satoru.” You earn a playful little pinch, as he walks you over to your car, kissing you by the driver’s side door, you see the black car waiting on him, your heart hammering as you think again of what he’s getting into. “Don’t fucking get hurt, please.”

“Me? Nah, you worry too much.” He grips your chin between his fingers, kissing you again slowly, you drink him in, on your tip toes in your heels, arms wrapping around his neck.

You’re going to live with Satoru Gojo, that seems absolutely batshit, but you feel more at home in his arms than you ever did in that hollow shell of a place, littered with horrible memories. You ache to stay there, to make him drag you wherever he’s going, to somehow protect him - insane things. You know you’d just get in the way, but you can’t help but ask.

“Is this fight because of me?” He shakes his head, and you get just a little bit of a sense of relief then, the sun is gently bouncing off his silvery locks as they sway just so, and you’re still firmly in his arms.

“The main reason is Sukuna’s girl, and taking down Naoya for her, but he just so happens to be the cause of your debts. So it is a win-win situation, but not only you, there’s so much fucked shit he’s done. He does need to get taken down.” You nod and nervously swallow. “Now you get your pretty self to work, I’ll see you after, I promise I’ll be okay.”

“Okay, I um… I love you.” You whisper, he exhales at that, leaning down and smiling against your lips.

“Of course you do, pookie.”

“Hey!” You smack at his chest as he grins.

“Why wouldn’t you, I’m perfect.”

“Y’know-” he shuts you up with a firm kiss, and you melt once more.

“I do too,” his soft words are husky, he’s so terrified then, to say it for the first time, and for once he’s a little nervous about a fight, because now he really has someone to come back to. Things he’ll tell you in time, but for now kisses, more kisses, until you’re almost going to be late. “See you tonight.”

“See you tonight.” You tear up in the car, but smile and wave behind your tinted windows, watching him bend down and slip into the back of the car. Work goes by meticulously slow, as you think over and over about him, if he’s okay, what he’s doing, while you’re clacking away at your keyboard and smiling at clients.

“Everything okay, Miss?” Nanami asks softly, as you bring him a cup of coffee, you sigh then, shaking your head. He looks at you with concern. “What’s going on?”

“Just in my head, Mr. Nanami. I promise things are getting better though,” he smiles at that, as you give him a smile in return.

“Good, if you need to leave early, please do.”

“No, I’m okay!” Better to keep busy than panic further, your boss nods and continues to work as you sit back at your desk, peering at your phone every few minutes, hoping that the man who’s doing too much for you will not get hurt.

In fact if anyone hurts Satoru you’ll lose it.

*****

Satoru’s knuckles are bloody later that night, he’s punching this man with sharp jab to his chin, he’s roundhouse kicking that one, grabbing one and flipping him the fuck over till he lands right on his head, with a sickening crack. He gets one grabbing his back, arms wrapping his neck, he tosses them in one flip, until they land next to the unconscious man.

He hates this.

He's an insanely talented fighter, it's with ease that his fists move, that his hands work. Years of training for this, but also just natural talent, you don't get to be a Gojo without having it, the skill to knock out an entire room. But Gojo is just exhausted, this isn’t what he wants to be doing, it isn’t where he wants to be. He wants to be with you, near you.

He keeps fighting because that’s what he does, it’s his job really, to protect the families and to take down the ones opposing them, he supposes it’s some noble fucking thing to do, but he can’t help but feel the distaste with it all. He knocks another guy right in the jaw, ducks with ease from another oncoming, as Suguru punches that man and knocks him out cold.

He’s never enjoyed it, where he sees Sukuna and Toji getting quite a thrill from beating up the Zenin, he gets it, he really does, but he doesn’t feel the same. He never really has, in fact even this is going through the motions, just like it was before his eyes danced across a pretty girl at the bar.

This was a good thing, because next in line is the mother fucker helping cause your debt, of course there was much more in play than that, but knowing they’d be beating up Naoya Zenin did indeed give Satoru that rush. Just like he wants to beat the living shit out of Mei, but she’s very connected to the Gojos, so in her case it’s better to just cut her off, take her money.

That one is a slow game.

He has so much prepared to stop them from coming for you, but all he can think is how he just wants to fucking kiss you right now, hold you in his arms another night. While the room is a bloody mess, and Gojo and his boys are winning like it’s nothing despite being outnumbered, your vision dances across his mind, the little confession you think he didn’t hear.

It’s insane to be in love this soon, right? But it’s like Satoru knew when he saw you, it was over for him, and now he just needs to get the world on the same page so you can be by his side. So you can not be so exhausted, so stressed out all of the time and so worn down, he had to try to remember what this was for, for not just you but so many people.

After Naoya is taken down, and Sukuna really sinks in the last of the hits, the warehouse door swings open, the five men and the rest of the members of the Kamo and Gojo mob walk out. It lets in a rush of cool night air, Satoru greedily takes a breath of it, looking up at an oddly clear night for this city. Hoping that you’re not too worried, that you’re okay.

He never had this before, the overwhelming need to come back to someone, to bury his face in your neck and let you hold him, a vulnerability Satoru hasn’t shared, and hasn’t felt in his life. Before you it was going through the motions, now his thoughts are just consumed by you, consumed by how badly he wants you to live a good life, and with him.

He hears the distant sound of sirens, surely all the noise had made someone call. “Time to get out before the feds come knocking.”

The Zenin mob retreats as well, helping their leader, who can’t even walk, but truly he’s lucky to be fucking alive.

“Coke?” Satoru offers when they get in the limo, shaking a baggie of snowy powder, and Toji pulls out a bottle of liquor from the center of the limo, where the cooler sits.

“Drinks?” He suggests, but Suguru is already lighting up a blunt, smoke filling the limo of the five bruised and grinning men.

“Smoke?” He suggests, Sukuna grins then.

“All of ‘em, fuck it.”

****

Bloody and exhausted, but truly coked up, five men get out of that limo now, walking into the club. The girls there quickly clear out any guests, so that it’s just the staff, helping clean the boys up, but Satoru’s eyes are on you. You’re terrified, he sees it then, full of fear as you run up to him, and wrap your arms around him, the blood from his hand slipping across your skin.

“Satoru, are you okay!?” You’re checking him quickly, hands brushing along a bruise on his perfect cheek, the terror setting in of what Satoru’s career really was, and what it entailed. The fear of losing someone you just got in your life eating at you, making you blink back tears.

“I’m alright, sweets, it’s mostly their blood.” He’s smirking, and you exhale then, when he holds you to him closely, as the men start talking, Satoru’s just holding you against him, you’re trembling as you hold onto him, your heart racing in your chest so quickly you feel it’s going to burst. “I’m okay, shh.”

“You’re not okay.” You pull back, but he just kisses you, dried blood from a cut on his lip busting open, dripping between you. “I need to patch you up.”

“I’m fine, sweets,” he leans low, lips brushing your ear. “Just wanna be inside you right now.”

“Fuck…” you trail off, as everyone is pouring in, cleaning up, but you two really can’t get your hands off each other. He’s walking you back into the bar, lifting your right on it and stepping between your thighs, moaning. “People can see us, crazy.”

“That’s why we won’t fuck yet,” he hums, lost in your scent, lost in the adrenaline and need to possess you, as the men are now gathering to get drinks, looking at the two of you, amused.

Sukuna and his girl are even smirking at you two, Toji is tense, Suguru and Choso are quiet, but the mood is overall good. When you’re all drinking in the bar later, after Satoru at least lets you swipe the blood off his face with a damp paper towel. You and your friend are helping pour the drinks for the boys. It seems like they’re all just exhausted, it’s a little quiet as you’re handing Satoru his favorite drink.

“I lied about it being boring.” Satoru murmurs then, holding your hand carefully across the bar, you frown in concern at that, leaning forward.

“It’s not boring?” You ask quietly, and he shakes his head.

“It’s boring and pointless, and fucking stupid. But, for once, I think we did something, something that actually mattered.” You’re back on his side soon, as he tugs you against him, and the hunger there is far too intense, the desperation in which he kisses you, holds you so close.

“Satoru, why don’t you take her home,” Sukuna suggests with a chuckle. “Before you all just fuck right here.”

Satoru pulls back and grins. “Says you. I don’t wanna know how many surfaces you’ve hit.” He says with a smirk, earning Sukuna’s chuckle.

“We have not hit… many surfaces!?” His girl tries to save face, but no one really believes that.

“Go fuck, you two need it,” Toji says with a smirk, and you blush, burying your face against Satoru’s chest then. “We’ll be just fine.”

“All right,” you’re going to say bye but Satoru’s picked you up in his arms, you’re gasping at the far too romantic and dramatic gesture, while he holds you close, carrying you out to the big black luxury car purring and ready. You feel the humid night air gently blowing on your skin, and soon you’re sitting on his lap, tears filling your eyes when he’s tilting your chin.

“I was so fucking scared,” you say finally, he frowns, sighing and nodding, tugging you close against him. “So scared, Satoru, you can’t just go fight a mob.”

“I’m a mobster baby.”

“Fuck that, we’ll go like get a ranch or something.” He’s laughing then, shaking his head as he swipes your tears.

“You want me to be a cowboy? In Gucci?”

“Yes!” You don’t laugh, even as he’s teasing you, brushing back your hair with careful fingers and kissing your forehead sweetly.

“It’s my life baby, but with you it seems so much better,” he’s soft when you slip onto his lap now, straddling him, his length pressing insistent against you, as you cup his face, kissing him.

“Satoru,” you’re drowning in him, your pulse racing in your ears, as he pulls back from your lips, sighing and looking at your neck, kissing down it, his hands trailing over your thighs, up to your hips now, everything lighting up for him. “We can… mnh… be pirates.”

“Isn’t that dangerous too?” He teases, breathy words when he nips at your collar bone, your head falls back, hair slipping down across your shoulder, nodding and sinking your teeth into your lip.

“It is but I c-can be with you on the - mnh, ship…”

“You can’t swim.”

“I’ll learn to swim.”

You’re playfully nipping on his lip now, but you just earn his grin, a feral grin like when he’d fingered his cum back inside you, making your tummy clench as the hot need starts filling you.

“You want me in a slutty pirate outfit, hmm?” You’re moaning even more at that image, he’s laughing against your skin, teeth brushing it, hot breath tickling you now. “Are you staying the night at your new place?”

“Don’t have clothes…”

“Think I didn’t order some?” You shake your head at him, sighing as you run your fingers down his cheek.

“Did you just know I’d say yes?”

“Had a feeling,” your kisses are more needy now, filling the car with both of your heat, as you’re losing yourself in him even more, every touch sending you, the adrenaline in both of your veins rushing. “Sweetheart…”

“Mnh… yes, I’ll stay,” he’s devouring your mouth now, little smacks of his lips, saliva dripping as you press on him, craving him completely. “You’re still insane though, y’know that?”

“I know… I need you baby,” his hands, painted crimson with blood tug at your top as you grind on him, whining out when it tears. “I'll buy you another.”

“Shh, just fuck me, please,” you're desperate as you whine out those words, he moans and sucks on your neck at the base, while his hand grips a tit and squish it in it’s rough grip, marking it with a dark red handprint. You're whining out now, cunt soaking him over his slacks when he starts tugging at his belt.

“God, I love you,” his husky whisper makes you both pause, as you look into his eyes, and he's got his cock out, hard and leaking precum. Blue eyes in the dark share a myriad of emotions, he swallows nervously, sighing. “I do, I fucking love you.”

“I love you so much, mnh…” Satoru’s got your panties tugged to the side, teeth biting at your nipple as two fingers sink in deep, curling in your already wet cunt.

“Soaked already? F’me, yeah baby?” You nod, whining out at the pressure, your eyes rolling back as his fingers hit just that spot, squelching wetness so sloppy and fucking loud as they fuck into you, your breasts pressed against his face, as you stroke his cock, slowly rubbing his leaky tip in the dark, making him whine out.

“Need you in me,” your words urge him more, he’s fingering you deeper, so deep, as you grind on them, lost in each other. “Satoru, please.”

“Don’t wanna hurt you,” he whispers, so sweet even now, pulling those fingers out and sucking your taste off them, groaning as his cheeks hollow, before he swipes it on your lips, and you’re kissing it right off him.

It’s messy and insane, the blood from his busted lip again slipping between your mouths, dripping down your chins, when he slips his tip at your entrance, groaning. “I can take it.”

“You said that last time, hmm? Tiny little cunt,” you’re slowly filled bit by bit as he drags you down further, taking more inch by inch. “Stretching you out, yeah?”

You manage a weak nod, as he eases into you deeper, you feel so full, his tip curving and hitting your spot. You’re gripping his crumpled dress shirt, soaking his length as he presses up deeper, husky moan against your lips, a hand messing up your hair as the other holds your panties to the side, tugging the material and rolling his hips while he brings you down on him.

“Ah!” The way you’re clenching him almost makes him bust then and there, you’re too tight, he’s lost then at how good you fucking feel, your sighs and how you say his name, your tits bouncing in his face as you slowly ride him. “H-haven’t been on top Toru…”

“You’re doing s’good baby, fuck you’re riding me perfect,” his words urge you, as he lifts your hips, and you’re sliding down more and more of his thick, veiny length, wetter and wetter, pulsing around him, already close. “That’s it, cum all you want, fucking use me baby, mmm…”

You’re done for then, you slip him in until he bottoms out, tip drooling on your cervix. You’re looking at him as you do, cupping his face gently and seeing those bruises form, while you roll your hips just so. He’s pressing so deep, stretching out your walls, you feel every fucking vein and ridge on his cock, crying out as he fills you so good, swallowing his pretty moans as you move.

You’re cumming with one more roll of your hips, while the two of you ride in the back of this car, arousal gushing down his slacks, his teeth sink into your neck, leaving his mark and sucking, when he jerks his hips up, smacking even deeper. He’s whispering your name as he fucks up into you now, taking control of the movements, until he’s fucking you from one orgasm into another.

“That’s it, as many times as you want,” he whispers, he’s perfect - so fucking perfect - inside you, around you, everywhere, Satoru is all there is in that moment, blissfully fucking your mind dumb. There’s no thoughts, just desire, love, need for him in every way, as the smacks get louder, and he’s taken all the control beneath you. “Cum again, sweetheart, just for me.”

You can’t help but obey when he’s running his fingers on your clit, you wonder just how fucking wrecked you look, both of you half naked and covered in dried blood all over, the people who made your life a living hell on your skin. It’s desperate and quick, the thrusts harder and harder, his hands now gripping each ass cheek, slamming you down so hard you scream out.

“That’s it, milk my cock, huh sweetheart?” You’re mindlessly grinding in little circles, aftershocks gripping his cock so good, nails pressing into his scalp as your fingers card through it. “Want me to fill you up?”

You’re nodding, choking out a yes as he’s stretching you out so good, your knees pressing into the plush leather as you cling to him, and he’s fucking harder and harder up into your cunt, so wet it’s slipping in easier even as your cunt is struggling to take how full he’s making you. Your tongues are messy as they drip, touching at the tips while his hands press into your skin, and you feel him losing his own control.

“F-fuck, baby…” He’s softly whining out then, looking at you under those snowy lashes, his blue eyes glimmering in the darkness.

“In me, please cum in me - ngh!” He’s done for at your sweet little pleas, fuck he’ll give you anything, when you’re looking at him, gripping him with your perfect cunt, walls just quivering. “Satoru!”

“Fuck…” He’s groaning out your name when his cock starts gushing white hot ropes, you feel the warmth of it then, as she does greedily milk him for more. He’s lost, his cute little whines echoing in your ears, mingling with your heavy breaths, as you two rest your foreheads together.

The rhythm slows, you’re twitching from the aftershocks, trembling in his hold, it’s a blur until he’s got you somewhat right, carrying you into his elevator, you’re still leaking his cum as he’s kissing you deeper, pressing you along the wall. He’s having you get his keys out of his pocket as he refuses to put you down, the two of you kissing even as he stumbles in.

“Shower with me?” He murmurs, eyeing your disarray then and smirking. “I made you a mess hmm baby?”

He shows you just how much of a mess when he’s got you in his bathroom now, and turns you to the mirror. You have streaks of dried blood all over, your top is ruined, bite marks and bruises from his hungry kisses. Your lips are swollen, eyes dilated and fucked up off him as he stands so tall behind you in the mirror, a huge lit mirror in a beautiful, pristine bathroom.

You look at him in the mirror, he’s just as much of a mess as you, when he tugs the rest of your clothes off, slipping them down your body in a whisper, until you’re naked for him. You have little lines from where your bra and panties pressed into your skin, marks of lace that his fingers dart across, moaning as he splays a hand on your tummy now.

“Wanna fuck so many babies into you,” his words are batshit, but you’re arching your back for him, head falling against his chest as you picture it. “Make a whole new Gojo line.”

You can’t take it, the images flitting through your head, you’re turning and stripping him now, running your hands delicately over his chiseled body. You hadn’t even seen him fully naked, the sight of him makes your throat dry, then you get emotional as you see little bruises, cuts and marks marring his perfection.

“I’m okay.” He sees it, the concern, he’s reassuring you when you should reassure him, cupping your face in his big hands now.

“I don’t want you getting hurt, ever,” you’re sniffling now, he sighs, pressing his lips on your head tenderly. “Ever, promise me.”

“I can promise that I’m strong enough to beat the shit out of anyone?”

“Ugh,” you roll your eyes, teary now, he sees them, kissing both of your eyelids as they close. “I know you’re strong but still, please.”

“I won’t let anyone land too many hits, okay?” He’s smirking even now, all boyish charm, but your glare does him in. “All right, no more teasing. Let me start a shower for you.”

Soon you’re inside his enormous tiled shower, he slides those foggy glass doors closed, peering at you carefully, touching the marks he left and moaning softly. “You enjoy that, marking me?”

“Let everyone know you belong to me, yes I do…” he’s pressing on one, sore, making you cry out, as the hot spray starts hitting both of you from overhead, the waterfall shower cascading along his back, as he runs slick hands down your skin. “Mark you everywhere.”

You want it, eager as he kisses you once more, droplets of water falling from his face onto yours, your hands slide up the strong muscles of his back, slick from the water, as he gently brushes your hair back. Soon he’s got you turned, washing your hair for you, fingers massaging your scalp, you’re moaning at the sensation, eyes fluttering shut.

“I could get used to this treatment,” you tease, but he sighs, frowning as he runs the other showerhead over your hair, rinsing the shampoo out in fragrant bubbles that fall down your legs. “It’s lovely.”

“I’ll wash your hair any time, you have been working too hard you know.” he’s conditioning your hair then, hands rubbing your shoulders, your arms, in little circles, thumbs pressing in your sore neck. You sigh in pleasure, head falling forward for more, his fingers hitting every pressure point there is. “You're gonna quit working or what?”

“Satoru, I can’t just quit working. Mnh…” He’s running his hands across your back now, turning you and pressing you against the warmth of the cream colored tiles, your eyes looking up at him, his snowy lashes dripping water droplets, forming pretty spikes that frame his eyes.

“Fine, cut back hours.” You giggle then, nodding.

“That I can do, maybe part time at the office?”

“You can be my assistant, you know.”

“You’d just fuck me all day.” He pouts.

“No, what do you think of me?” He’s kneeling then, kissing your breasts, your tummy, your hands brush back his wet strands, thick and silky against your finger tips as he eyes you. “I would get work done.”

“What work do you do though? Doesn’t… Sukuna do most of your things…”

“I look pretty and hit people. It’s very important, baby.” He’s kissing lower as you whimper now, the sound filling his ears, hot water pounding on both of you when he eyes your pussy, all puffy from him. He touches it with his fingers, watching you squirm now, smiling.

“Sore, mnh!” He’s kissing it now, making you suck in a breath.

“I’ll apologize to her,” he’s talking to your cunt then, pulling a thigh up over his shoulder, lapping his long tongue up your slit then, you’re throbbing and sore, ready again for him. “Sorry, pretty.”

“She forgives you,” he chuckles and laps his tongue up again, you’re rocking your hips against his face, leg shaking as you balance on it, his big hands pinning your hips in place. “Toru!”

“Mmm, you always taste so good, especially after I’ve filled you up,” he’s lapping at the creamy mix of his cum and yours just dripping from your little hole, his nose bumping your clit now. “That’s it, let go, I’ve got you.”

His words are more than just eating you out till you cum, they’re so much more, you’re safe with Satoru, you can breathe, let go for him. He’s slurping you down then, hungry and messy as he fucks his tongue in and out of your hole, the hot steam rising around the two of you. He’s pushing your sensitive cunt over the edge, humming as he sucks your clit in his mouth.

You’re shattering again, only to be lifted up by him, his tip insistently pressing on your sore entrance, all ready and soaked for him again. Your thighs press into his hips as he kisses you, and you taste the mix of his breath, your cunt and his cock all over his pink tongue. He’s shoving his cock deep, bottoming out in one go, you’re screaming hoarsely, weak now, lost in it.

“Mine, stay mine baby, please,” he’s begging you, as if you would think of anything else in the world. You’re nodding as he moans and fucks deeper, ever so slow, savoring every inch as it goes in and out of your heat. “Say it.”

“Yours, Toru, all yours.” He’s kissing you again, so intimate you can hardly breathe, as the steam filters through your nostrils, your mind, cunt stretching once more to accomodate his thickness inside you.

“Gonna put more in you, yeah? You want that?” You nod eagerly, and soon he’s pumped even more cum inside your tummy, you’re already pushing it out with the force of your orgasm, he’s biting you harder, sucking deeper. Leaving marks you don’t even know how you’ll cover up.

Toweling you dry all cute and innocent later, it takes a long time before you even see his even parts of his penthouse - soon you’ll be living here. It seems insane to just move in with a man you barely know, a mobster, but there’s no doubt in your mind of where you want to be. After living in constant fear and exhaustion, you’re now getting hot cocoa made for you, wearing cute little pajamas he bought.

Satoru himself is wearing pajama pants with kittens, it makes you giggle when you see them, you can’t help it. He crosses his arms and tilts his head while you sip your cocoa, sitting at one of the seats at the bar. “What’s so funny, Missy?”

“Just this big bad mobster wearing kitty pjs.”

“Oh yeah, think I’m not still big and bad,” he walks up to you, slipping his fingers across your chin, your hair is all dried from him carefully toweling it, silky from whatever insanely expensive conditioner he got. “Should I show you?”

“Another round?” He’s smirking, cock already straining against his pants. “How!”

“I could fuck you over and over, till you can’t even walk, then you’ll have to take a leave of absence.” You’re giggling but he’s dead serious, tilting your chin up with two fingers, your hand puts down the mug with a little clink. “I’m serious.”

“I cannot take more dick yet, I hurt.”

“Talking shit but can’t take it?”

“I can’t tell if you’re a jerk or sweet at any given moment.” He smiles and you laugh, shaking your head when he tugs you to stand.

“It’s part of my charm, don’t you think?”

“Maybe…” you tip toe and hug him around his broad chest, bare and soft from the shower, still marked up in ways that scare you. “Are you sure about this, me living with you?”

“I’ve never been more sure than the moment I saw you, that I knew I wanted to take care of you,” his words melt your heart, you’re kissing him again.

It’s dangerous to kiss Satoru Gojo, when he’s rock hard with a huge cock and an insatiable appetite, you barely get a look at his bed before you’re folded in a mating press, you know it’s pretty and comfy from the glimpses you get when he shoves your face against it. When you arch for him, crying out at how sore you are, only making him harder, and making you cum more.

He’s fucking every worry out of your brain like that’s his only job in life, until he’s gotta clean you up again, until those marks are deeper, and you’re truly not sure how you’ll move tomorrow. How you’ll leave this bed, and maybe that is Satoru’s goal, to force some fucking rest and self care on the girl he loves, the one that runs off ramen and red bull.

The one he’ll never let go, in his arms that night, sighing as he tugs you so close to him, stroking a hand down your back soothingly. “You think she’ll leave me alone for good?”

“She won’t know where to find you, but yes. I think I gave her enough to fuck off. And I thought my parents were shitty.”

“Yours still were in their own ways,” you lean up now, chin resting on your hand as you study him. “If we ever… become parents, they shouldn’t be forced into this.”

“I agree,” he swallows nervously, and you blush deeply.

“I’m thinking so forward here.”

“It’s okay, I like that.” He kisses your head, brushing your hair now soothingly, as the exhaustion hits. “I’ll make sure they never have to.”

“I know you would, you’re Satoru Gojo.”

“Amazing huh?”

“Shh.” He’s chuckling as you kiss him, holding you tightly, and you finally rest for once in his strong embrace, feeling everything falling into place.

This was just supposed to be a little mini series so it will be wrapping up next chapter, it'll be a little epilogue! ty for reading this one, I love writing Toru so damn cute after making him a jerk in my other fics lol

taglist 1 - @thejujvtsupost @moonchu @thikcems @yenayaps @luvmichu @antisocialinlw @sukunadckrider @gojoslefttoenail @genticcs @sukuxna0 @saitamaswifey @monster-effer @gradmacoco @bounie1 @bestelizabeth1 @alygator77 @arabellasolstice @naina326 @1satoruu @satorusaysiloveyou @feliaeae @jkslaugh97 @nerdybouquetofkittens-blog @simp-plague @ladyneisa @distractionforyourthoughts @erintaro @ninikrumbs @yesdere @stargirl-mayaa @wstaley2 @just-lilita @lady-of-blossoms @genshingeeksworld @yaoishipper19 @angryflowerwitch @strawberrysluttt @emochosoluvr @bluebrry05 @trishiepo0 @gina239 @bunheadusa @hazelll-trisk @simperisksksk @jud3thedude @breadsbasket @shhhhhhxoxo125 @gojosoups @starpachinko

#satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo fluff #satoru gojo smut #gojo smut #jjk smut #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #satoru x reader #jujustu kaisen #jjk gojo #gojo x reader smut #gojo x you #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #mob gojo #divider by cafekitsune

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deadsetobsessions · 2 years ago

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Danny no longer has a haunt. So… he decides to find another one. And while he technically has a whole world (other dimensions aren’t an option because he’s going to stay near where Jazz’s grave is, damn it) there’s only a couple of other places with enough ambient ectoplasm to sustain him. Nanda Parbat, Tokyo, and Gotham.

Nanda Parbat had a weird old musty immortal that kept trying to summon him and exchange power for the ability to “take a worthy body and rain as much destruction” as he’d like. As if Danny would need a body to bring the world to its knees.

Tokyo… it’s too far from Jazz’s grave. He could ask Wulf or even open his own portal but when Danny tried it out, Tokyo was too peaceful. Obviously there’s crime, but nothing… nothing big like Danny’s used to.

Danny ends up picking Gotham, even if the sewer zombies and the weird group of rich fruit loops with an adoption problem creeps him out. So, he destroys the portal, packs up his parents’ house and sells it, and hauls ass to the cesspool calling his name. His family’s stuff is stored respectfully in a vault located on the deepest parts of his personal haunt in the Infinite Realms.

And honestly, he’s doing better. Sure, he’s got a shitty apartment near another revenant’s almost-haunt and he feels like he’s drowning all of the time, but Danny isn’t in danger of turning into Dan, he’s catching up on royal paperwork, and he’s got like a job as a barista. In his own coffee shop that paid for using his parent’s money (who, despite their hazardous everything, made a crap ton of money off of their more normal inventions).

Gotham’s got some pretty interesting local gangs, most of which respected the sanctity of Danny’s cafe. Sure, they tried blowing it up and tried extorting money from him in the form of “protection costs” but after three months of failure, they gave up.

(Really, the local gangs gave up when they saw him take three shotgun shells to the chest and continued to work.) (They didn’t know it never hit him. Intangibility is extremely useful.)

The Rogues, on the other hand, just gave Danny flashbacks. Their gimmicks are different, sure, but after years of Box Ghost, Skuller, Lunch Lady, etc., Danny’s more than done with costumed villains. They don’t bother him either. Some of the reason is probably due to Harley and Ivy, who had walked into the cafe and (because they were bruised and scratched up from a fight) triggered Danny’s mother hen tendencies. They were promptly fed and watered and caffeinated and their hyenas were also similarly taken care of. They declared the cafe under their protection and that was that.

Red Hood stops by, and begins to interrogate him. But when Danny met his… helmet eyes? The crime lord paused, paid for his coffee, and sat in a corner table of the cafe for the rest of the day.

And he kept coming back?

But Danny figures it’s because Hood was a revenant and people who had come close to death tends to feel more comfortable around him.

(Considering this is Gotham where people almost die every other day? Yeah, he’s pretty much friends with everyone. Or at least, less likely to get shot.)

(Hood does stay because of the King’s presence and the Pit calming itself, but also Danny’s hot and he’s got a sleeper build and Hood definitely did not imagine himself in the place of the heavy box he saw Danny lift effortlessly onto a table. No.)

But of course, the peace couldn’t last forever. But by then, Danny was so antsy, he welcomed the trouble with open arms.

It starts with a clown. Danny knows who he is. He knows who Danny is.

So, Danny has no idea why the clown thought it would be a good idea to aggravate the owner of Gotham’s official neutral grounds. See, Clovkwork? Danny’s learned how to gauge his own political importance!

“HAHAHAHAHA! COME OUT, DANNY-BOY! LET ME TELL YOU A JOKE!”

Danny comes out and grabs a chair, and with a flat expression, says, “you’re not funny and I hate clowns.”

And then he swings and slams the chair into the Joker’s face. Over and over again until Danny’s sure the clown won’t get back up. The thing about Gotham’s outdoor chairs is that they’re mad out of steel and are bolted down to the ground to prevent undedicated thieves (dedicated thieves can and will steal the bolted down steel chairs). The Joker’s hired muscle just watched this scrawny twenty-something year old yank the steel chair and take some of the fucking ground and the bolts with it and beat the fuck out of their boss who is the literal Joker.

They surrender on the spot and is taken to jail. Danny just smiles at the officers who come by and since he’s got pretty privilege and they don’t want to mess with the guy who, again, owns one of Gotham’s official neutral ground and also beat up Joker without breaking a sweat, the officers just lets him go with a warning.

And then the bats comes, and wow, Danny’s playing mentor to a formally dead person again!

But before that, the Red Hood asks for an autograph on the Gotham Gazette article with a picture of a tired Danny standing over Joker’s prone body. Then Hood stammers through asking Danny out (which Danny said yes to because he’s tired, not blind, and Hood is built like a brick house and HOT).

Batman interrogates him. Danny, who can tell that this man needs therapy and is Sad TM, tells Bats that Danny’s died before and that’s why he’s like this. He also calls Batman a furry, but like in a nice way. And then he kicks Batman out with a coffee and a file on Nanda Parbat.

Now, Danny’s got a date to prepare for and he realizes that maybe this is what Jazz wanted for him- to be happy and mostly safe and happy. (Or, happier, he thinks. It’s been a long time since he’s been truly happy, but this might be a good start)

#bamf danny phantom #danny phantom #dc x dp #jason todd #Jason takes him to a library and they pick out books for each other #Danny asks him on a second date and they talk about the book over coffee #and then they watch the stars (Danny uses his ghost powers to clear a patch of sky)#but Danny just kind of watches Jason’s face and goes yeah this is just as good #Danny dngasf #Danny will throw hands with a clown #Danny thinks the Gotham Rogues are kinda cute #with their gimmicks #unimpressed bc they’re kind of obvious #and he’s seen worse and better #danny is Gotham’s Mom Friend

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kamaluhkhan · 1 year ago

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THE GRUDGE (or: the 7 things luke castellan hated about you)

read part two GET HIM BACK! (or: the 7 reasons you want revenge on luke castellan)

pairing: luke castellan x child of nemesis!reader (gender not specified)

word count: 8.5k

summary: luke hated your guts. he really did. he just hoped that no one could tell how, even after all this, you're still everything to him.

warnings/disclaimer: luke's POV. spoilers for the lightning thief and season 1 of pjo. some heated make-out sessions but no actual smut - MDNI / 18+. mentions of blood + death + alcohol. luke is 19 during tlt but i wrote this with him + reader being 21 by the end of this (this is important for the next part lol). anyways, luke + reader share clothes and lots of intense emotions they maybe possibly don't process in the best way. lots of ANGST - it's a greek tragedy fr!

author's note: welcome to my new hyperfixation! this fic is LONG but i hope she's worth it ♡

♪: the grudge by olivia rodrigo

(i. you have a sharp tongue)

fourteen year old luke was overwhelmed when he first stepped into the hermes cabin. it was loud and overcrowded and no one really seemed to care that they had a new cabinmate. the head counselor showed luke to an empty bed at the back, told him to get settled in, and left without another word. luke dropped his backpack before collapsing on the mattress. it was so thin that he could feel the springs dig into his back.

"you'll get used to it."

luke sat up to see you climbing through the window.

you had a band-aid stuck on your chin, chipped nail polish the color of blackberries, and leather combat boots that looked way too heavy to be wearing in the heat of summer.

“the shitty mattress?”

“i meant the whole chaos of cabin 11, and the way things work around here in general. if you can get used to the shitty mattress, all power to you.”

your tone was friendly enough, playful even. you smiled at him so comfortably it made luke nauseous.

“good to know.” he tried to smile back at you, but his heart wasn’t in it. “i’m luke, by the way.”

“yeah, i know. i’m —”

“y/n!”

you seemed entirely unfazed as the blond who called your name stormed over to you. you rolled your eyes, something only luke could notice, before turning to her.

“someone stole my candy.”

“i’m very sorry to hear that, maddy. gotta be careful around here.” your voice dripped like poisoned honey, deceptively innocent and sweet.

maddy was not having it. she huffed at you. “it was you, wasn’t it?”

“that depends. did you cheat at poker last night? again?”

some of the chatter throughout the cabin paused, heads turning to listen in.

“what? n-no!”

“then you have your answer, maddy.” you exaggerated a sigh, as though you had already won the fight and were annoyed that she came back for more. “now, if you’ll excuse me, i have a new camper to show around.”

chiron had already given them a tour, but luke didn’t protest when you grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the window with you. your hand was warm in his as you dragged him along to the corner of the cabin where a poorly made ladder waited for you.

“come on.” you started climbing, and only stopped to look down when you realized luke wasn’t following you. “best view of camp. trust me.”

a shiver passed through luke. trust didn’t come easy to him. he also didn’t particularly want to return to a stuffy cabin where all he would do was count reasons he did not want to be there.

so, luke followed you. he sat down next to you on the roof and looked out at the sun shining on his new home, but he couldn't help but be slightly bitter. the gods had gotten all of you into this life of endless danger and battles and monsters, and this was all they had to offer in return: a summer camp.

it just didn't seem fair.

there was something else he noticed then. what was it that chiron had said? camp half-blood was supposed to be a safe haven for all demigods.

“i don’t get it. there are only twelve cabins, but aren’t there, like, a million other gods?”

you straightened your posture then, and turned to luke with a newfound interest.

“camp half-blood only has cabins representing the twelve olympians. apparently, they’re the only ones important enough to have children worth recognizing, and they can’t even do that half the time,” you explained, impertinence laced throughout your words. it seemed like something you could never quite get off your chest.

every demigod knew that the gods didn’t appreciate sarcasm. they didn’t particularly like being called out on their bullshit, either.

you didn’t seem to care; you even rolled your eyes up at the sky, as if challenging zeus himself.

“anyways, that’s why the hermes cabin is so crowded. it takes in campers who are unclaimed or whose parent doesn’t have a cabin at camp. like me.”

“so, who’s your godly parent?”

you fiddled with the leather cord on your neck. it held a few clay beads like the other campers, but there was one silver charm he noticed only you wore — scales, by the looks of it. you clutched onto it.

luke realized that, despite your own advice, maybe you resented having to get used to the way things worked around here, and having to hide your resentment. maybe that was worse than having to sleep on an uncomfortable bed for the rest of your life.

"nemesis. goddess of revenge."

"that's....hardcore."

you scoffed and moved on to twisting the silver ring on your index finger. "a lot of people take it that way, and i think it scares them a bit.”

“so that’s why you’re extra nice to new campers, huh?”

“no, i was just in a good mood today.” you smirked.

“guess i was just lucky, then.”

luke couldn’t help but smile at your laugh — sharp, biting. you nudged your boot against his sneaker, which shifted you closer to him, shoulders practically touching.

“what people don’t understand is that it's more about balance, you know? you do good things, and good things happen to you. at least, they should. you do bad things and….” you pulled out an outrageously big bag of candy, dropped it between you and luke, and winked at him. “you face the consequences.”

“that makes sense.” luke leaned over to grab a handful of gummy bears. “like karma.”

“yeah. exactly.”

you bit the head off a red bear, both of you chewing in silence before you added:

“by the way, i’m sorry about your friend.” you swallowed and caught luke’s gaze.

chiron warned him that word would travel fast around camp about what happened to thalia, and luke had prepared himself for anything — anything but your reaction. there was no pity in your eyes; instead, there was a hint of rage, as though thalia had been your friend, too.

“she deserved more.”

luke’s eyes caught the glint of a knife strapped to your belt. he took another handful of the candy you stole, and he thought about the fire and fearlessness behind your words, and, despite everything, it felt right to be with you then and there.

“yeah,” he finally whispered back. “she did.”

we all do.

neither of you said those words, but the suggestion was there, and it felt like a promise.

(ii. you hold on to every stupid, little detail)

“slow down, tiger.”

your voice echoed throughout the arena, and if luke had been fighting a real opponent, it might have gotten him killed. instead, he just stopped mid-swing, sparing another straw dummy from losing its arm.

“left hand,” you noted as you walked past him towards a bench. “you, my friend, are in need of a break.”

luke loosened the grip on his sword. the only time luke fought with his non-dominant hand was when he had overworked the other. he must have switched an hour ago, but judging by how heavy his arm felt, it could have very well been two.

his curls were stuck to his forehead with sweat, his shirt soaked through. he could feel a dull pain behind his eyes, and luke was worried that if he stopped to catch his breath, he would pass out. or, even worse, have to face the reality of the shitty news he’d gotten early that day.

“come sit with me,” you urged. “you’re exhausted, tiger.”

luke bristled at your nickname for him.

sure, luke loved that there was something only you called him, a secret kept between you in plain sight, but it was also a reminder that it was harder to hide behind the hero act when you were around.

everyone else at camp figured the nickname was a playful attempt at calling him strong and charismatic. the truth was that luke once told you that his favorite cereal as a kid was frosted flakes and that he would dream of playing sports as well as tony the tiger. for better or for worse, like most things, you wouldn’t let it go.

case in point: if it was anybody other than you trying to get him to take a break, luke could have just brushed them off with a charming smile and continued swordfighting until his arms fell off, but in the two years since meeting you, luke had never met anyone as stubborn and convincing. like him, it seemed you were willing to fight and shed blood to get your way. luke was never really in the mood to make you bleed, even when feeling like he could burn the entire world down, so he usually gave in to your demands.

as soon as he sat down next to you, you handed him an orange flavored energy drink — his favorite. anything other than water was hard to come by at camp without the enchanted goblets in the dining pavilion, or the right connection in the hermes cabin. he ran out of his stash the other day, but you must have noticed and gotten one of the stoll brothers to smuggle more in.

“thanks,” luke said, ignoring the jolt of electricity that passed through him when your fingers brushed together briefly.

the two of you looked out at the sword arena, and all the straw dummies that luke had destroyed. you wait for him to take three big gulps of his drink before speaking again.

“i guess chiron and your dad decided you weren’t ready for a quest.”

luke exhaled sharply. “how did you —”

“the only time you’d skip out on capture the flag is if something really shitty happened.” you looked down at luke’s clenched fists, and that seemed to be all the confirmation you needed. “you promised annabeth you'd be there, and it's not like you to let her down."

fuck. he had completely forgotten that tonight was annabeth's first time as team captain. this entire week, she had been prepping a winning strategy. it wasn’t like annabeth needed him to win, but luke was her big brother, and he should have been there. you were right — he had let her down.

the realization made luke’s day go from bad to worse.

"i told her you were helping a new camper with an emergency. she didn't believe it, but she adjusted her strategy and we still won.”

“well, thank the gods everything worked in the end,” luke grumbled.

“don’t thank the gods,” you quipped. “thank annabeth chase for her brilliant mind, and me for covering for your sorry ass.”

when luke didn’t indulge in your usual playful banter, you moved closer to him and brushed some curls away from his eyes. your skin warmed his forehead, and the small gesture made him feel better than he had all day.

“look, i’m not going to give you some bullshit inspirational speech about how the gods don’t get to define what a hero is, or how you don’t need a quest to prove that you’re worthy of being one. we’ve each been through that before, and i have a feeling this won’t be our last time, either.”

“then why are you here?” the question came out harsher than luke had intended it to.

“because she’s trying her best to hide it, but annabeth is really hurt that you didn’t show up for the game. i figured the least you could do is suck it up, come to the campfire, and make her those signature luke castellan s’mores. you could probably use one, too, since you haven’t eaten anything since breakfast.”

you were right, again. luke was exhausted, he was furious, but most of all, he was starving.

later that night, luke sat next to annabeth and vowed to make her as many s’mores as she wanted. you’d gone to sit with the hephaestus kids, trying to convince beckendorf and nyssa to join your cabin’s post-campfire party at the beach, even though they had to work in the forges early the next morning.

when chiron made his weekly speech, congratulating the winners of capture the flag and thanking the gods for keeping everyone safe, you and luke caught each other’s gaze from across the fire. you rolled your eyes and luke bit back a smile as you turned back to beckendorf. he noticed your knees were practically touching. did you sit that close to everyone?

luke was looking at you for so long that the marshmallow he was roasting fell into the fire, despite annabeth’s warnings. she handed him another one.

"you should tell her how you feel," annabeth said. "stop being a coward."

whether it was the smell of burnt sugar, the heat of the fire, or annabeth’s comment, luke started to feel dizzy. he did his best to shake it off, asking annabeth for a play-by-play of her strategy earlier that night, but he couldn’t quite get rid of the thought of you.

(iii. you don't care if your clothes are stained with blood)

“i just….i can’t fucking believe you, luke.”

“i don’t get why you’re so upset — you’ve never cared about quests before.”

luke was hoping to break the news to you after capture the flag. unfortunately for him, word travels fast around camp.

annabeth had the two of you scouting the east side for the flag, while she and some other athena kids took the west. you hadn’t found anything so far, which meant that you’d spent the better part of an hour bickering over luke’s choice of companions for his quest. a choice that included charles beckendorf and chris rodriguez, and purposefully did not include you, much to your fury.

before you could continue arguing, luke heard the sound of footsteps approaching. he looked over to you, and you already had your shield and sword at the ready.

a few red defenders emerged from the trees. one charged at luke, but you stepped in so he could deal with the other two. one of his opponents went down fairly easily, but the other put up much more of a fight. metal clashed behind him as you kept fighting as well. you might not have been as skilled a swordfighter as luke, but he knew that you could hold your own, at least until he was finished with the person in front of him.

luke parried his opponent’s strike, causing them to take a step closer. he was preparing to disarm them, just as he heard you yelp and stumble to the ground. it only took a millisecond of his attention, but it gave his opponent the opportunity to elbow him in the face. luke felt a crack upon impact, and pain radiated from his nose; he powered through.

he had to finish this fight, and he had to do it fast. you needed him.

his ears were ringing as he finally knocked over his opponent, kicking away their sword and keeping his foot on their chest. luke turned around to see you having turned the tides, the blade of your sword dangerously close to your opponent’s neck.

you locked eyes with luke, and you both understood — it was time to go. the two of you ran through the forest, as far away as you could before having to stop and catch your breath.

luke removed his helmet to get some air, and dropped his weapons. you did the same. you looked at him, brows furrowed.

“your nose.”

luke licked his lips, tasting blood. the triumph of winning that last fight overshadowed the ache of his potentially broken nose. in fact, he liked the image of a ruthless warrior emerging from the glory and gore of battle, that even though he did not bleed ichor like a god, he still had power.

you, on the other hand, didn’t look impressed. instead, you stepped forward and offered the sleeve of your shirt to wipe away the blood.

“you don’t have to —”

“i know you think you’re a badass walking around all broken and bloody, but you shouldn’t deny your admirers your pretty face,” you teased.

it was no secret that luke had numerous admirers around camp, a fact you loved to tease him about. he was sure that you relished in how flustered that made him. all you had to call him was pretty boy, and luke could be reduced to a blushing mess.

it was pathetic how much power you had over him.

“besides, i wouldn’t have gotten out of that last fight if you hadn’t taught me that disarming technique earlier. i owe you. it’s what we do. we take care of each other, right?”

he couldn’t argue with that.

a few moments of silence passed as you cleaned his face. something shifted as you worked, the flirtatious grin fading away. when you pulled away, your sleeve was stained a dark crimson.

“just tell me honestly,” you finally murmured. “why don't you want me to join your quest?”

luke was genuinely taken aback by the softness of your voice, now devoid of its usual fire. you wouldn’t meet luke’s eyes, but being that close to you, he noticed they were slightly glazed over.

he had expected you to be angry at his decision. he expected you to yell and argue and try to change his mind. luke hadn’t expected you to be so hurt. so broken.

he hadn’t planned on it, but luke decided to tell you the truth then.

“look, karma, if you come with me, my heart wouldn’t fully be in the quest. i’d be so caught up in….well, you.”

a pause.

“is that a bad thing?”

“not usually, no.”

you smirked a little at that, and luke’s heart skipped a beat. it also made his decision even clearer.

“but i need to be focused for this. i need….” he let out a deep sigh. “i need to prove myself. this is my first real chance, and i can’t fuck it up.”

you met his gaze and smiled brightly at him, your signature spark of confidence returning.

“you won’t.”

you reached a hand up to play with his necklace. luke hadn’t noticed how close you’d gotten until your fingers started tracing over those four clay beads. it made his entire body burst into flames.

“i’ve been wanting to do something for a while. and, aphrodite save me, it might be really stupid, but —”

luke took a lucky guess as to where you were going, and crashed his lips against yours. aphrodite knows that he'd been wanting to do that for a while, too.

he often got drunk on the adrenaline of battle, the glory of winning, but nothing was quite like the rush of kissing you for the first time.

it was messy and urgent, both of you aware that, at any moment, you could be interrupted. your noses were bumping together, teeth clacking against each other. the metallic tang of blood lingered on luke’s tongue, but neither of you seemed to care. you even bit his lip slightly, as if you wanted more. armor sat heavy and cold between your chests, preventing you from getting closer. luke had never loathed the protective gear more.

he made up for it by lodging one hand underneath your jaw, and snaking the other beneath the celestial bronze, beneath the cotton of your shirt, admiring how your pulse quickened under his thumb when he grazed the soft skin of your stomach. you tangled your hands into his hair, nails scraping against his scalp. he groaned and felt you smirk against his lips.

luke had kissed a few people before, sure, but never like this: like a knife to the gut, and if you pulled away, luke would surely bleed out and die.

it wouldn’t be a hero’s death, in the traditional sense, but at least he’d die happy.

how many heroes could claim that?

when luke ran out of air, feeling like his lungs were burning, he had to pull away.

you glanced down at luke’s kiss-bitten lips, then back to his eyes. luke flushed under the intensity of your gaze.

“just promise me something, tiger,” you whispered, voice hoarse.

“anything.”

“come back alive.”

luke leaned forward and placed another kiss on your lips, this one much gentler than before.

“i promise.”

(iv. you love like a scar that won't fade)

the nightmares were getting worse.

luke woke up in a cold sweat, taking gulps of air in an attempt to steady his breathing.

“luke.”

your whisper did little to quell the pit of dread growing in his stomach, but it did enough to bring him back down to reality.

he was at camp half-blood (fuck the gods of olympus), in the hermes cabin (fuck you, dad), in a bed next to yours (fuck, if he could tell you what — who — was going through his head, he would).

“i’m…i’m fine,” he murmured back, voice catching slightly on the lie.

like clockwork, you shifted from your bed to his, slipping under the covers. it didn’t matter that it was a hot summer night, and the minute your legs touched his, he could feel himself starting to overheat.

your thumb brushed over the thick edge of his scar, up his cheekbone to the corner of his eye. it had been a year, living with this reminder. a reminder that he had failed, just as much as his father and the olympians had failed him.

luke tried to pretend that he didn’t come back from his quest as a shell of who he once was. after all, it was meant to be his shining moment as a demigod, meant to gain him all the glory and father’s praise he once wished for.

what a fucking joke.

every morning, luke would crawl into a different skin. he welcomed new campers and taught sword-fighting. he laughed with chris and his other siblings and strategized with annabeth for capture the flag. he would be the easy-going, charming, skillful senior counselor who respected the gods and honored them in everything he did.

again: a fucking joke.

nights were different, though, with you so close to him, you who could always see right through him.

every night, luke was a fourteen-year old boy again, with so much rage and resentment he didn't know what to do with it.

of course, you were always you - a bleeding heart underneath layers of armor. you didn't care about fate, or the gods, or the titans. you cared about justice, you cared about what was right and fair.

most of all, you cared about luke.

“you were screaming,” you told him, voice barely cutting through the soft snores and sleeptalkings of your other cabinmates.

“sorry,” he managed. looking at you in the dull moonlight, luke noticed the deep shadows under your eyes.

“it’s fine. you just….you scared me, tiger.”

your hand still rested on his cheek, and for a second, luke hoped you would kiss him, but you didn’t. instead, you told him to try and get some sleep, and sank further into his bed before closing your eyes.

for the hundredth night in a row, luke hoped you couldn’t hear his heart hammering in his chest as you fell asleep next to him.

since coming back from his quest, luke didn’t have it in him to suggest being anything other than friends, and you didn’t push it. there had been a few....moments between you, sure, but nothing more.

luke thought you might have changed your mind, because who would want to be with a bitter, worthless, wannabe hero? then again, that voice haunting his dreams…. luke could change that.

but, at what cost?

(v. you protect people as ruthlessly as a starving dog)

luke could hear you talking to percy jackson outside. though he couldn’t quite determine what was being said, as much as he tried.

you entered the bathroom and instantly caught luke’s eyes in the mirror. you were wearing your faded pyjama shorts with cartoon crows, and a flannel shirt that luke had a sneaking suspicion might have been his. you smiled at him before setting up at the counter, one sink between you.

“what was that about?” luke asked after spitting out a mouthful of minty toothpaste.

“oh, nothing.” you were searching through your toiletry bag for something, and seemed to come up short. “hey, do you have any extra dental floss?”

luke threw some over to you. as you effortlessly caught it, he noticed your knuckles, bruised and bloodied.

“what happened?”

you finished flossing and briefly examined your hands before pulling out your toothbrush.

“it’s not a big deal,” you assured. “some ares kids were picking on percy, and then they started pushing him around, like, really pushing him around, so….”

“....you decided to send them to the infirmary.”

you squeezed some toothpaste on your brush before continuing. “i don’t need you to lecture me about how i shouldn’t be fighting with other campers because i’ve been here longer and i should be a good role model. you know what a good role model does? not let kids beat up other kids and think the worst punishment they’ll get is no dessert for a week.”

luke watched carefully as you jammed the toothbrush in your mouth and brushed with such force, he was worried your teeth might dislodge. he knew that you would shed blood for someone you loved, and that you didn’t particularly care if you had to break rules in doing so, because you believed that what was written was not necessarily what was right.

in fact, luke loved that about you.

no, it wasn’t the fighting that luke cared about — it was who you were fighting for.

percy was a good kid, he really was. luke just didn’t want you getting attached.

“i wasn’t going to lecture you. i’m guessing chiron already did?”

you nodded and spat out what looked like a combination of toothpaste and blood. you rinsed your mouth until the water lost its pinkish hue. once you were done, luke continued his train of thought.

“i just didn’t realize you cared so much about him.”

“about percy?”

luke could tell that he didn’t have your full attention. you were packing your stuff back up, accidentally tossing luke’s dental floss into your bag, but he had more pressing matters to deal with.

“yeah. the kid’s only been at camp for three days, and you’re already acting like his guard dog.”

you finally turned to luke and glared at him.

“maybe. but percy’s sweet and he doesn’t seem like the type to put up with bullshit. he’s been through a lot, and annabeth seems to like him, too. as far as i’m concerned, percy’s one of us, and i’m not going to let anyone push him around.”

luke raised an eyebrow at you. “he’s sweet?”

“yeah. like, just now, he gave me some blue raspberry jelly beans as a thank you. said his mom used to work at a candy store. he also wanted me to apologize to you for him. he feels bad about beating you in sword-fighting earlier.”

you scoffed, like you resented luke for having to apologize to him on percy’s behalf. you definitely did not appreciate that guard dog comment. luke clenched his jaw, seething over what you had just said.

satisfied with his reaction, you gave luke that nauseating smile of yours, tilted your head towards the exit. a truce, because you never liked to fight with luke for too long, and a order, because you knew luke would always follow.

the two of you began walking back to your cabin in the warm mid-june air.

“i wouldn’t say he beat me,” luke huffed. “it was beginner’s luck.”

“sure, tiger. it was beginner’s luck that disarmed the best swordsman we’ve had in the last 300 years.”

you nudged luke’s shoulder with yours, but he recoiled from your touch.

“are you trying to make me feel worse?” luke tried his best to avoid snapping at you, keeping his tone measured.

“i’m just saying that maybe the kid has natural talent and that doesn’t make you any less talented. there’s no need to get jealous.”

luke resisted the urge to growl at your suggestion.

to be clear, he was not jealous. it’s just that luke had spent years of blood, sweat, and tears getting to where he was then, and percy jackson had just gotten to camp.

and, to be even more clear, luke was not jealous of how you were already defending percy with your whole body and your whole heart, the way you did for him.

by then, you reached the front of the hermes cabin. luke could already hear the commotion of what he would need to deal with as soon as he walked in. the burden of being head counselor, one he approached with an elastic smile that could snap at any moment.

you tugged on luke’s sleeve before he could open the door.

“hey. are we okay?”

luke looked down at your fingers grasping the fabric of a sweatshirt he was just realizing was yours. your nails were painted a dark red, now chipped after a week of wear. you had begged luke to paint his nails then, and once again, he gave in. he even started to like the purple you had chosen just for him, so deep it was almost black. the same color you were wearing the first time you and luke met.

he smiled at the memory — a real smile, no plastic — and then smiled back up at you.

“we’re fine, karma.” and he moved to enter the cabin. luke could hear the threat of an argument bubbling up, what sounded like a petty one over a prank gone wrong.

“wait.” you tugged at his (your) sweatshirt once more. “there’s something i wanted to talk to you about, about tomorrow night—”

“annabeth called a meeting during free time.”

“yeah, i know, it’s just —”

“she’ll run through strategy for capture the flag then.”

“one of the aphrodite senior campers asked me to the campfire,” you blurted it out, and luke decided to ignore the sound of a fight breaking out from behind the wooden door.

what in the name of hades were you talking about?

“they asked you out? like…like a….” luke didn’t even want to speak the word, scared it would make it real.

“a date,” you said casually, as if that one word didn’t rip luke’s heart in a million pieces. “i said yes.” an admission that took all those pieces and set them on fire.

sure, in the seven years since you and luke met, you’d each talked about boys, about girls, about dating and kissing them and going further. but there was something about this one that felt different. something about the way you told him.

“but, listen, i wanted to let you know it’s not —”

“good for you,” was all luke said through gritted teeth before someone started calling his name again, louder and more urgently, and he had to duck inside.

(vi. you taste like burning cherries and righteous anger)

your team had won capture the flag, of course. the biggest news of the evening, though: percy jackson was the son of the sea god.

he was a forbidden child, the hero of the great prophecy.

everything was falling into place.

all luke should be thinking about is kronos’ plan, and his role in it, and how a world without the gods of olympus was that much more in reach.

unfortunately, for the time being, he was so consumed by you.

you, from across the campfire, sporting cutoff denim shorts and fresh wounds from the game earlier. you, who had wrapped your knuckles in gauze, concealing their bruising, fixed the chips in your nail polish and stacked rings on your fingers. (for the record: luke had gifted you the one on your left thumb.) you, with dark lips that whispered too closely and laughed too loudly with a child of aphrodite— jordan li.

you hadn’t so much as looked at luke since congratulating each other on another win. when chiron announced his weekly gratitude to the gods at the start of that night’s campfire, you didn’t punctuate your resentment with your usual eye-roll or biting remark. you were too busy giggling at something jordan said.

luke wanted to be the one to whisper jokes in your ear. he wanted to be the one you left lipstick stains on later, along his jaw and down his neck. he wanted to be the one who kissed the blade mark on your shoulder and the bruises on your knuckles.

and yet, hours passed and it seemed that the thought of luke had never so much as crossed your mind. he found himself at an after hours party with a few senior campers on the beach. a lethal recipe: a poorly crafted bonfire, some contraband drinks and you in jordan li’s lap, playing with their hair and pretending luke castellan did not exist.

meanwhile, luke had katie gardner’s full attention. she was talking to him about the strawberry season, potentially leaning a bit too close into luke’s personal space, definitely flirting with him.

luke could have done a lot worse than the head counselor of the demeter cabin, who always smelled like fresh lavender, whose eyes were the bright green of spring grass and whose lips tasted like golden honey.

the problem was that luke only wanted you, and his eyes kept sliding over to where you were kissing jordan’s cheek, and he accidentally called the girl he was kissing by your name, which did not make her happy.

katie threw her drink in his face, told him to wake the fuck up, and walked away.

a chorus of gasps and chuckles erupted as luke stood there, diet coke and vodka seeping into his shirt. the commotion seemed to capture your attention, because you suddenly appeared next to luke, an empty bottle of cherry soda in your hand.

“rough night, tiger?” your voice, that nickname, made luke sick, his face twisting into a frown. you don’t seem to notice or care. instead, you switched your bottle with luke’s and took a sip.

“looks like you were having a pretty good time,” luke practically sneered. “where’s your date?”

“they went to bed.” you swallowed a mouthful of beer, grimacing at its bitterness. “gods, this is terrible. you and i should go on the drink run next time — we have better taste.”

“so, are you and jordan like a thing now?”

you gave luke a smile he didn’t quite understand, but made his stomach churn in ways only you could. “would that be a problem?”

“of course not.” he answered way too quickly for that to be true.

“let’s get out of here,” you suggested. “i think katie is about this close to strangling you with a tree branch.”

luke glanced over your shoulder to where green eyes glared back at him.

nowhere could luke find it in him to care. he wasn’t even sorry. he just shrugged, took the bottle back from you, took his first sip all night. luke almost gagged (because of course you were right, and the stoll brothers had better fake ids than they had taste) but he suppressed it.

“no. i’m good.”

biggest lie he ever said. like there wasn’t anger caught in his throat and jealousy swelling between his ribs.

“go find jordan,” he taunted. “kiss them, show them a good time! isn’t that the reason why you got all pretty?”

you narrowed your eyes at him carefully. your nostrils were slightly flared, and luke took a bit of pride in being able to rile you up.

“look, we haven’t really talked lately, and i think we should.”

“go find jordan,” he mocked once more. “almost all the aphrodite kids are here, and i’m sure you can be quiet enough to sneak into their cabin and if you want a quick fu—”

“luke.” you clipped his name, obviously getting to the limit of your patience with him. “if you want to stay here all night and be an asshole, you’re welcome to. you should know, though, that your happy-go-lucky hero mask is starting to crack and i don’t know if you could deal with the fallout from it shattering completely.”

you leaned in close and whispered that last part, very aware of the chattering that stopped and the eyes that watched the pair of you anxiously. luke was usually good at hiding that part of himself who wanted to burn the world down.

in ways you didn’t realize, you were right: he couldn’t risk revealing it, not now.

not yet.

“do whatever you want, castellan,” you spat out his last name, the combination of letters foreign in your mouth.“i’m leaving.”

luke should be proud of himself. he waited a whole two seconds before following you like a stray dog.

luke didn’t know if he’d ever felt you that enraged by him, and it horrified him. it also made him hungry for more.

“i’m not sure that jordan would want the two of us alone together at night,” he shouted after you, words echoing into the starless sky.

“gods, enough about jordan!” luke practically ran into you with how fast you turned around to confront him. “i was helping them with that stupid aphrodite tradition!”

“you….” luke faltered, all the snark leaving his body. “what?”

luke remembered silena beauregard once explaining the rite of passage to him: to prove themselves, a child of aphrodite had to make someone fall in love with them, and then break their heart.

“why…why would you agree to do that?”

you had reached the dining area by then, and you sat on one of the steps leading to the pavilion. luke stayed a few feet away, looking at you cautiously.

“jordan and i are already friends, and they figured a fake relationship would be the way to avoid anyone from actually getting hurt in the process.”

“you seemed so…so into it, though,” luke stammered, the memory of you in jordan’s lap, laughter bubbling from your lips, still fresh.

“it’s called acting, dumbass.” the camp didn’t rely on electricity, but there were enough torches around that luke could see you roll your eyes. “anyways, i was trying to give you a heads-up last night, but you wouldn’t listen.” you took a deep breath. “and, honestly, i didn’t push it because….i figured i should test a hypothesis.”

a hypothesis? you’d known annabeth for too long.

“what hypothesis?”

you hesitated.

“it doesn’t matter. fuck, this was stupid,” you muttered, and without another word, stormed through the dining pavilion, a short cut to the hermes cabin. your footsteps fell heavy against the marble, and luke’s not far behind.

“what hypothesis?” he asked again.

nothing but rushed footsteps.

“what hypothesis?” luke finally yelled.

third time was the charm, because you stopped in your tracks and faced luke once again. a fire burned in the bronze brazier, where campers were forced to offer up portions of your food to the gods at every meal. its roaring seemed to captivate you, and the flames danced across your face, illuminating all your curves and edges.

“i’m angry at the gods,” you stated.

this caught luke off guard. from the day the two of you met, luke knew you shared that feeling. you’d gotten quieter with your rage as you’d gotten older. luke supposed he got better at hiding it himself, as well.

“i’m angry at the gods for letting bad shit happen even if they can stop it, and for building this world in the fucked up way they did. i’m angry at your dad for the way he’s treated you, but — you, luke castellan.” you finally met luke’s eyes with a gaze so sharp, luke almost felt himself bleed. “i’m also angry at you, and not just for your bullshit tonight.”

your admission felt like a punch to the stomach, and luke was left with no air to breathe.

did you know?

“you haven’t been the same since your quest,” you continued, words slow and deliberate, the way you spoke when you were worried your voice would shake. “and i’ve come to terms with that in the past few years, but you….you’ve never tried to ice me out before. you’ve been acting distant since december, and it’s been driving me insane. do you realize how much i miss my best …..” you swallowed the word friend. “how much i miss you?”

luke hesitated, because what could he say? i know i’ve been distant, but i’ve been busy trying to start a war between the gods. sorry babe!

would you hate him, if you knew?

you had to have known that, despite the distance, luke missed you. for tartarus sake, in the last two days, he’d driven himself mad at you calling a fourteen year old boy sweet, and he was about to combust at the image of you dating someone else, with little care as to the collateral damage.

"you can't just avoid me, makeout with katie fucking gardner, and then….” you trailed off, hiding your face in your hands. whether it was to hide embarrassment or tears, luke wasn’t sure.

a smirk spread across luke’s face at the revelation that he hadn’t been the only one jealous at the bonfire that night. it lit luke up with the confidence he needed to not completely fall to his knees in front of you, beg for your forgiveness for everything he’s done.

“why do you care if i make out with katie fucking gardner?”

as he waited for a response, luke walked towards you until your back hit one of the marble columns.

“why do you care if i’m with jordan fucking li?” you clenched your jaw and looked right through luke. a clear indication that you wanted him to break down first; it wouldn’t be you who yielded this fight.

“because i want to be the one you’re with.” at that point, luke was so close to you that he swore he could hear your heartbeat. he reached out and played with the hem of your shorts. “why do you care if i make out with katie gardner?”

“because.” you drew in a sharp breath when luke’s fingers brushed underneath the denim, across the warm skin of your thigh. you closed your eyes. “don’t make me say it, tiger.”

the desperation in your voice made luke want to do unholy things with you, to you. luke knew you didn’t think of him as a saint, and you never expected him to be one. the reality was that you weren’t much better, either. what was essentially an altar to the gods burned bright next to you, but it seemed neither of you had ever cared less about it than in that moment.

luke would watch olympus fall. he would dethrone the gods and watch their glass castle shatter and find glory in a new world. in the grand scheme of things, he was willing to lose this battle.

in fact, he would have rather betrayed the titan lord himself than waste another second not kissing your lips.

so, he kissed you, and you kissed him back with such force, such hunger, it was ungodly.

no, you certainly weren’t a saint — but you were divine, in the most brutal, intoxicating way. in the way you shuddered when luke lodged a leg between your thighs; in the way you threaded your fingers through the belt loops of his jeans to bring him closer; in the way the metal of your rings burned through the skin of his hip, right to the bone, which made him shudder, and you smile triumphantly against his jaw.

the more he tasted your smirk flavored by cherry soda and the ashes of nearby flames, the more he felt your feral teeth against his neck and your wicked nails digging into his shoulders, the more you tugged on his curls, the more luke thought: maybe.

maybe you would give into your seething resentment, live up to those eye-rolls and snarky comments that got you in trouble with chiron, on the edge of hot water with the gods. maybe you would join the titan army. maybe, just maybe, this time, you would follow luke.

and yet — maybe wasn’t enough if it meant he could lose this. luke wouldn’t risk it, not until he kissed every battle scar and bruise on your body, and you did the same to his.

“wait.”

it was the last thing luke wanted to do, but he complied. he took the opportunity to appreciate the chaos he created: your shirt in disarray, your lipstick a mess, your chest heaving and desperate to catch a breath.

“i promised jordan that we’d keep up our charade for a week, two at the most. do you think we could keep this…” you tightened your fist around the fabric of his shirt. “a secret until then?”

luke responded by pressing his lips to yours once more, because there were definitely worse secrets to keep.

(vii. you wouldn’t hesitate to make him bleed)

luke had just left percy jackson to die.

he should be leaving camp, now, but he needed to see you one last time.

the universe works in mysterious ways, because you were out on a run through the forest, and you crossed paths before he even had time to wonder where you were.

“hey, tiger.” you smiled as if this was a regular afternoon. the two of you would teach your afternoon activities, sneak away during dinner so luke could kiss you in that spot that made you gasp. “wanna join me? i was just wrapping up, but i could be convinced to go longer.”

for a second, he was tempted to. very tempted.

“i don’t have much time.”

you seemed to notice luke’s sullen mood and you dropped your playful demeanor.

luke explained: the messages from kronos in his dreams, him stealing the lightning bolt and helm of darkness to start a war between the gods and framing percy. the plan to destroy olympus that luke had pledged his life to.

percy was surprised at what luke had done, and luke could imagine that the rest of camp would be, too. luke was the golden boy of camp half-blood, everyone’s big brother.

you, on the other hand, didn’t express any sense of shock.

“luke.” you said his name like you weren’t quite sure it was poison. “i’m going to give you five seconds to tell me that you’re joking.”

five seconds of silence passed. you took a few steps back from luke.

“i….i should have told you sooner.”

“yeah,” you scoffed. “you should have. but, you didn’t. did it feel good, having the titan king whispering sweet nothings in your ear? all the lies about how this war is the only way to get the glory you so desperately want? it’s fucking delusional.”

“it’s not delusional—”

“yes, it is!” you glared at him. “you’re on the wrong side of a war you made the mistake of starting.”

luke straightened his posture, thinking about how hypocritical you were being.

“isn’t this what you’re all about? revenge, karma. your mom will probably join us, too. don’t you want to see the gods finally get what they deserve?”

“not like this. i can’t believe how desperate you are, to believe that kronos is going to make everything right. it’s pathetic,” you spat. “i’m not saying the gods don’t deserve to be taken down a notch. their fucking obsession with power and glory….it’s sick and twisted, but i don’t think your titan king is any better. i don’t think you are any better.”

“it’s time that the gods fall. this is the only way, even if it isn’t perfect,” luke countered. his voice was firmer now as he absorbed your anger. your mother was the goddess of revenge, but you clearly didn't understand the sacrifices, pain, and blood that was required to make the world a better place.

luke just needed to convince you.

“we’ve talked about this for years,” he continued. “nothing is balanced! there’s no justice here, for anyone. we can build a better world where we don’t have to burn our scraps and throw ourselves at monsters to get attention. we can fight together like we always have. y/n, i love—”

“don’t,” you snapped. “don’t you fucking dare. you should have died on your quest.” your voice laced with venom. one hand gripping the knife you always kept on your belt. “that dragon should have fucking sliced through you and saved us all the trouble.”

something pricked in the back of his throat, down to his stomach.

“you don’t mean that.”

“i do,” you promised. “at least you would have died with all of us thinking you’re a hero instead of the traitor you really are.”

you grabbed your knife, took a fighting stance.

“i’m not going to fight you,” was all luke could say. he noticed your hand tremble, and you tightened the grip on your knife to prevent emotion from slipping through your invisible armor.

in that moment, you have could slice through luke, and it would hurt less than everything you just said, less than the murderous look you were giving him, like he was just another monster you wouldn’t think twice about sending to tartarus.

luke didn’t even have a chance to unsheathe his sword before you charged at him, but he quickly had you pinned to the ground, the tip of your own knife pointed at you. he hesitated. the blade pressed harder against your cheek than he intended, enough to break the skin and let a few droplets of dark crimson escape.

“please come with me,” he pleaded. you didn’t answer, but you did seem surprised by the softness of his voice.

a few moments passed, the celestial bronze still between you. luke waited for you to see his way, to yield to his proposal.

you didn’t. instead, you took advantage of the situation. you wrapped your leg around his and flipped your position. in the process, you regained possession of your knife. without the hesitation that held luke back, you sliced through his cheek, deep. luke bit his lip to suppress a groan, tasting blood. your gaze set his whole body on fire as he waited for your next move. that was when you glanced down at his camp necklace, and the new clay bead added to commemorate this summer.

a turquoise trident.

“percy told me he was on his way to see you,” you realized. “what did you do?”

luke didn’t answer. he knew then that a choice ran through your head.

and it stung, just a little, watching you sprint away through the trees in a last ditch effort to save percy’s life.

there was a small, pathetic part of luke that wanted you to choose him, even if it meant you would have plunged the knife into his chest.

#this is my baby fr #really feeling the tragic hero vibe down to my core #will prob do a part 2 from reader's POV!#ofc inspired by get him back! bc nemesis!reader....#percy jackson #pjo fanfic #pjo series #luke castellan #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x reader #pjo x reader #luke castellan angst #luke castellan imagine #percy jackson and the olympians #luke castellan smut #saf writes #Spotify

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mightydragoon · 1 month ago

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Why did Staff of Hermes convince me Percabeth is going to break up in the future?

The nail in the coffin for me when I was rereading the series in terms of me foreseeing that Percabeth will not make it as a couple in the future was this short story. The Staff of Hermes. Not the Judo Flip in MOA mind you which is pretty controversial or even the ending for The Bronze Dragon which is rage-inducing when I reflect upon it, but this short story.

It spoke to me how distant Percabeth were with each other and in terms of their rushed dynamic, how they are doomed as a couple.

Percy has never really been fully comfortable around Annabeth. Even their most romantic moments in BOTL for instance are tinged with anticipation for violence.

Like the volcano kiss

and Percy crashing his funeral

And of course, this comes up briefly in Staff of Hermes as well

The moments are presented as sweet, but the very fact that Percy anticipates being punched or slapped by Annabeth is revealing. It proves that the judo flip is in character for Annabeth but in many ways, Annabeth got worse as she got older. Given she actually flips Percy over and kicks his leg when he talking to Jason in MOA.

That's not even delving into Percy's major emotional insecurities when he is in a relationship with Annabeth, and how in MOA, he is constantly scared to open up to her about the future and uses the analogy of a "glass sculpture" to describe how fragile it feels to him to accidentally break it. Or even how it feels more apparent that Annabeth uses knowledge as a weapon of power to make Percy feel stupid in the relationship to feel superior.

That doesn't come across as someone who is eager to share information because they want to out of genuine passion, that's someone who uses it as a means of power and control.

The sad thing is for Annabeth's character, it makes way too much sense. MOA is a revealing glimpse into her personality but there was already hints of it in her interview in the Bronze Dragon. She does seem to like Percy, but any compliment she might have for him is backhanded at best and insulting at worst.

With that, Annabeth comes across as genuinely believing Percy is annoying her deliberately.

It reminded me of a TikTok I saw just recently where a woman was chatting with her husband about seeing Thunderbolts but he shut her down as it being just a movie. When she got upset, he said to her in order to try and ease the situation was "I love when you get excited it's just annoying sometimes." It was gutting to hear not to mention she was visibly upset and she excused her own husband's faults as a part of his healing journey. You can imagine the comment section in that video btw.

It reminded me of another scene, in fact just before the Judo Flip where Annabeth was blaming Percy for "leaving". She thought this.

Excruciating...

Not to gonna lie. That floored me when I reread that scene. I genuinely couldn't believe anyone would even think that about someone they loved. It's a bit like a man saying how much he hates his wife. Conflict does arise in relationships, but this seems like Annabeth is torn between loving and hating Percy and it's not the healthy sort either.

Not to mention she also said this later in the same book.

I know the flip was bad, but this was another layer where it feels like Annabeth genuinely dislikes Percy and oscillates between hate and love for him. Later on she also develops a fear of Percy after Tartarus, which begs the question why they are even together at this point. Annabeth also admitted she hated Percy does fit with her behaviour as she genuinely seems annoyed with Percy in the books but it becomes really questionable as she gets older and even how she acts towards him.

At one point, can we excuse Annabeth actions as a quirk of "trauma" as she is too young to know differently and using that as shield to excuse shitty behaviour as someone who is meant to be a role model.

Riordan doesn't understand the implications that is here. How it's not a healthy dynamic with Percy, who is also an abuse survivor with a fatal flaw of loyalty. His story means a lot to people and to not look into any of his relationships and how that impacted him would be doing that a disservice with the focus that was presented onto it.

Personal loyalty to stick with people no matter how they might treat you, good or bad. It provides a tragic lens onto Percy who might have Gabe as a reference but Gabe's abuse was more direct; he insulted Percy's intelligence with "brain boy", threatened to punch Percy lights out (and probably did that on occasion) and also financially took advantage of him. Annabeth's is a little different. I don't think Annabeth herself is aware of it completely, but it still doesn't erase the emotional belittling and pressure she puts on Percy throughout the series.

It doesn't change the fact that Percy asked her to stop with the nickname in the Bronze Dragon (and probably before as hinted in TTC) refusing to respect that boundary of Percy, who is never really fully at ease around Annabeth and has major emotional insecurities that have emerged so much more poignantly as a result of the relationship.

So why is the Staff of Hermes so special when this is littered throughout their dynamic across the books? Why was this the nail in the coffin for me?

Well, it's rather simple, actually. It's control.

The pair of them are on a date. Percy had clearly arranged matters. The Great Lawn is a lovely place in Central Park and the internary shows Percy took considerable care into the thought process behind it. We know from the first book Percy in not that fussed on olives and he had chocolates and lemondades with them.

Percy is not made of money, we know this firsthand from the first books but even the fact he able to do something like this for date is quite sweet and thoughtful.

Like that is the Great Lawn for reference. Not a bad place for a first date. On a lovely sunny day at that is.

Now it's infered from Frederick's background even before we further learn in Magnus Chase they come from generational wealth in Boston (and Annabeth technically inheriting the Mansion in the end) he is on the richer end. No one can afford housing in San Francisco that easily or be able to work on Sopwith Camels in TTC without a bit of money. That or Annabeth's stepmother is an underrated breadwinner.

Why is this relevant?

It's essentially Annabeth's expectations of what the date is meant to be in her mind versus what Percy could actually do.

Annabeth's character is one of privilege in the books (she is explicitly white coded not only from her appearance, along with her siblings, but also wealth), both from her home life and Camp by Chiron. Chiron informs Annabeth on nearly everything and presumably allowed her to be a Camp Counsellor at a young age. Despite not ready for some of those responsibilities as we see in her introduction, she is very rude to Percy who she should be able to empathise with his situation of losing a loved one (missed chance there to connect them by Rick), acts out against him and is deeply impatient in answering basic questions about Camp, which is her job. This is part of their poorly constructed Meet-Ugly in the books, and by the time Piper arrives, Annabeth is much better at her introductions but it doesn't change the fact that she wasn't fit for the task initially and presumably treated other Campers like that in search of the One. (I doubt she made many friends because of that)

We learn in The Lost Hero, Chiron rarely kept anything from Annabeth (with the exception of the initial theft of the Bolt and the Romans), and from what we see in the series, this is fairly true. Chiron allows her to know about the Great Prophecy from ten, but she also has information about the Labyrinth in BOTL, despite that being a secret. TLO also explores this, and one of the reasons she has the infamous "You're a coward" Percy scene is because Chiron informed her about where Percy was, and crucially neither of them informed Percy of the wartime developments like with Typhon.

I was never fussed on the You're A Coward scene and especially the dissipated resolution in it meant that the tension between the pair was never truly resolved. It never struck me as particularly romantic so to learn that was some people's favourite scene in TLO had me confused because of how frustrating it is. Especially since Percy was asking for confirmation about Rachel's vision and the possible direction. But because it's Rachel, Annabeth refuses to even entertain the possibility, despite the fact SHE said it.

Annabeth has never really liked Rachel but a part of that, I think comes down to mortality itself. Annabeth constantly dismisses Rachel is because she is "just a mortal." But even the way Annabeth talks about mortality is squint-worthy, given that she is meant to be his mortal tie through the Curse of Achilles.

Like the hidden meaning behind these scenes is Rachel and Annabeth are fighting over Percy but honestly, I think that is poorly done given how spiteful it comes across and how Annabeth says mortal like a slur. It's not even the first time we see her dismissive towards mortals either, she doesn't have a high opinion on her stepfamily in the first books and authorities like cops (which honestly fair) but it does spell a different layer to Annabeth's dislike of Rachel is connected with that dislike of mortals.

It's understandable that another reason why Annabeth might act the way she does is linked to her family and also her inherent pride in being a demigod, a divine child of Athena (Athena is the best after all), and a gift onto her father. Either way, it makes her a poor fit as a mortal tie for the Curse of Achilles.

I do think Riordan was using the Curse of Achilles as a crutch to pair Percy and Annabeth together and to rush the romance between them, given that is the primary reason they got together. But it still doesn't change the fact narratively as a mortal tie, Rachel or even Sally would've made more sense.

I don't even ship the pair but throughout TLO Percy and Rachel have a crucial impact on each other and the choices they make. As we see to Percy, Rachel is a reminder that there is something there for him in the mortal world and, you can see Rachel seeing Percy as an escape from her own life, given how she joined him on the Labyrinth quest on the spot. Rachel is present in reminding Percy he is not the Hero of the prophecy and was there when Percy gave the pithos to Hestia. Later on Percy does the same for her when her moment came with the Oracle.

This is the precursor to Percy turning down immortality and Rachel plays a critical component in that, but is ultimately the reminder for Percy of the broader picture, much like Annabeth is when Percy looks back and thinks of Camp and all those who died when he declines immortality. the only time I believe Percy's mortal tie to Annabeth made sense beyond a romantic level.

Percy is clearly more comfortable around Rachel.

And Percy made to feel guilty for his interactions around Rachel throughout TLO and much later with Annabeth, this is revealed she does this deliberately to Percy even after they have gotten together in order to assert control.

So at this point, it goes beyond Annabeth's jealousy and possessiveness and into control. Annabeth is a complicated character, but it still doesn't change how one can read into her actions and that in the text and present for all to see. Back to the Coward scene in TLO.

Annabeth is emotional and she does have decent reasons to be. She is scared for Percy. We see this when Percy reacts to the prophecy.

More than anything Annabeth is projecting her own emotional insecurity onto Percy in this scene. About his oncoming death and also his feelings towards her.

She is annoyed with Percy presumably not confessing to her when she clearly has emotions for him and for him spending time with Rachel instead. But she presents it as Percy being the coward and for running away, scared. Rather than actually confess her feelings herself. It should be Percy to be the one to do so. Percy is clearly not a coward running from his death and even in terms of their "romantic relationship" at this point, apart from a kiss which came out of nowhere there is not really a lot of reasons for them to be together (yet) Percy reads between those lines over why she is really annoyed.

This, among many scenes, continues a tension between Percy and Annabeth which is never truly resolved and its' not helped with Annabeth and Rachel making up off-screen, which doesn't make sense given how Annabeth seemed to have genuine emity towards Rachel's perceived crush on Percy.

This connects with who is well established as Annabeth as a prideful character but as controlling as well. Annabeth's pride possibly can't accept what she deems as a mediocre dinner for their first month anniversary.

It is genuinely gutting to see Percy, who was doing something nice and presumably this IS the special dinner Annabeth was thinking Percy "promised" her and what she expected him to do instead.

I presume this was the dinner Percy had in mind if he did promise, but for Annabeth she wanted something grander and more important; this wasn't it.

Annabeth wanted to pressure Percy despite him doing something nice; she wanted to keep Percy on his toes, as it were. That's not healthy.

Percy gives a lot in this relationship. He feels obligated to and as we see her, Annabeth expects a lot out of this relationship. A month anniversary is materialistic as hell. Annabeth is also not expected to do anything similar. I would understand Percy's anxiety even further if Annabeth had done something similarly nice, but that isn't the case here.

More often than not, Percy is expected to GIVE and Annabeth often TAKES in the relationship.

As someone who works on celebrating special occasions, this feels petty and ridiculous to expect from a partner. But it's also telling how the picnic dinner was not enough for Annabeth as well since Percy did still do something on their anniversary, even if unintentionally on the anniversary itself. It might not ever be enough for something so "simple".

We know from the series a lot of Percabeth moments are focused on grand and impressive feats. They had their first kiss in a volcano. Annabeth is his mortal tie. They both turned down immortality for each other(they hadn't) and they fell through in Tartarus and walked out together. Etc, Etc.

In many ways they have done a lot together, but it doesn't have the emotional weight it deserves. Percy and Annabeth frankly don't have the chemistry or a real emotional connection as people. Part of that, I think, is due to Riordan clearly trying to push them as a couple before them being friends, and Annabeth's character in particular suffered from this. Stranged from the Red String as it were.

This is meant to be a sweet and domestic moment, and it isn't even a bad idea for a date but it isn't enough. Annabeth had widely different expectations, which can also be a microcosm of how they have completely different views for the future and ideas on how that will turn out. Percy didn't believe a month anniversary was really that important or significant and honestly. He's right. It's not. But Annabeth is not satisfied with a mere picnic for a special dinner and talks about it being more like the year anniversary than a single month.

This is arguably one of their better stories together, too where we see good teamwork and some nice moments between them compared to others. One day I will get into the Bronze Dragon. But for me the focus on the dinner overshadows everything and that is a frequent problem with Percabeth, where there are so much negativity in the relationship I feel gobsmacked whenever I'm expected to clap like a seal whenever they do something positive.

It speaks to me how Percabeth don't really have a lot in common apart from being with each other, fighting threats, or just knowing each other for years.

Percy doesn't appear all that interested in architecture, and Annabeth isn't much into sea life or skateboarding. While Percy had few common threads with Rachel in BOTL which he acknowledged, they both have mutual interests in the environment and peace with each other, which we don't really get with Percabeth. Percabeth feels so performative and stale in comparison that I still struggle to even read them as friends, let alone lovers. Particularly as Annabeth doesn't really respect Percy all that much.

Percabeth desperately needed more time to develop, getting together on the same time a lot of their peers died and the pressure from Camp I don't believe helped later down the line.

Like this comes across as sweet and it is, after all, it's them getting together and then getting chucked in the water. It's a great and grand way to get together for the Finale, YAY!!!!. But it has way too many unresolved issues that we only see blossom even further in HOO with how rushed it was. I find it esoteric. The Curse and by extension, Percy's choice to turn down immortality, feeding into it. Grand reasons to get together but fragile on examination as you wonder what really connects them together and I refuse to see them as this cute and perfect couple, which is the gold standard when they are ironically quite basic.

It makes sense why Percy compares their relationship to a "glass sculpture" and how he really doesn't know Annabeth nor does she in return about Percy. A glass sculpture is something that is so fragile and can break with a good push. It is destined to crash and break. In contrast to Annabeth's grand ideas of making something that will last for thousands of years. (Annabeth also has a connection to glass in her architecture, which I will not get into today but trust me it is there and it is haunting me)

Percy has so much love for Annabeth and treats her with utmost respect in his narration, but that is not really shared to the same degree. It feels so jarring reading their perspectives and how idealised Percy pictures Annabeth in his head, like him remembering her in SON, versus how she acts towards him in MOA

Percabeth is built on grand and lofty moments from the first book which is highlighted with the forced one-sided rivalry all the way to the present to justify them being together. Rather than having something more genuine and real connecting them together.

Annabeth's expecting something more from Percy for their month anniversary is, I feel, emblematic of everything I despise about it.

The fact that Annabeth forgot proves it wasn't about the dinner but control. It was making Percy uncomfortable over "forgetting" despite him doing something nice for her anyway, and that was presumably what he originally had planned for her anyway. It was keeping him on his toes. It's small but very present.

The only reason she isn't mad is that she did get the dinner in the end, and presumably Annabeth knew full well Percy "forgot" but she kept pressuring him anyway. But the fact that she tells Percy to start planning for their second month anniversary...

I don't find that sweet, funny or the one bit pleasant. It feels so materialistic and inconsiderate to Percy, who had a lovely date planned for her with some of her favourite treats and foods. And it didn't look like she cared for that one bit.

That more than anything kills me. The lack of appreciation. And that killed any hopes of their relationship going forward for me.

In fact, she urges Percy to do more. Annabeth doesn't say she will try anything special herself for Percy. No, it's on Percy to pick up the bill here. As I said, Percy is the giver, and Annabeth is the taker in this relationship and that fact is constant.

This story made me read the series completely differently and this is more than a dinner. All Percy can think about is "surviving" a month as Annabeth's boyfriend and hopefully her seeing a future with him, which is quite bleak.

More than anything to me, it just feels tragic reading Percy's attempts to do something nice for his girlfriend being brushed off or discarded like this. Annabeth has a commanding personality, and she promised she would never make things easy for Percy. In that she's right.

This story proves to me, Annabeth will never be satisfied with Percy's attempts and Percy will never feel good enough in this relationship to feel content and genuinely happy in a way that doesn't feel like he's forcing himself to be.

But it did open my eyes and made me consider so much more about why Rick might write a certain way, what he might have been considering when writing Percabeth himself and the likely future they will have in a peacetime without the same worries of a war on the horizon. Cause I can't see it work.

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gyllenhaalstuff · 5 months ago

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Boy Back Home

- Donnie Darko

This fic is two requests mixed together, hope that’s alright ᡣ𐭩

Summary: You come over to Donnie’s house unannounced and find him touching himself.

Warnings: Sub!Donnie, masturbation, panty sniffing, touching himself to a picture of you, you’re a bit mean, blood (he accidentally bites your lip).

Word count: 964

Notes: This is really short (soz), might do a part two if it does well!

────── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

Even though you felt too old to be forced on family vacations, you still got dragged along to Cape Cod over the summer. Your friend, or unofficial boyfriend (whatever you want to call it), Donnie, had been waiting for you all summer to come back home. He tried to pass the time as best he could. Shooting bottles, biking, watching shitty sitcoms. Most effective of all was staring at his Polaroid of you, where you are dressed in nothing but a bikini top and tiny shorts, and either burying his face in your panties or jerking himself off holding them around his cock.

You got home in late July. You never told Donnie about it beforehand; you wanted it to be a surprise. You barely got home before leaving to go to his house. Under a flowerpot on the front porch lay a pair of spare keys. You picked them up, inserted them into the keyhole, and quietly unlocked the front door. No one seemed to be downstairs; you began to wonder if Donnie was not even home. But you decided to check his room.

In case he was there, you walked the creaky steps as carefully as possible. His door was closed, and a light shined from under the door. Your body filled with excitement, you had missed him so terribly. You turned the doorknob and looked into his room. However, Donnie did not seem to notice you. In fact, his eyes were closed. On his chest lay a Polaroid of you from a few months back; one of his hands held a pair of your used panties, which you thought you had lost, in his face, and his other hand feverishly stroked his cock.

Your eyes widened in surprise, and you could not deny his little show turned you on. You stepped in the room and closed the door behind you. This woke Donnie up from his daydream. His eyes shot up, cheeks turned maroon, and he stilled. “Uh. Look, I—,” he stammered. You two were not dating, so this could have easily scared you off. “Don’t let me interrupt you,” you said and walked towards his bed. This was your chance to play around with him a bit, which you needed after being away for so long—too long. “I was enjoying the show.”

Poor Donnie thought he might pass away from embarrassment. Not only did the girl he liked walk in on him, but she also walked in on him stuffing her used, stolen panties in his face with her skimpy Polaroid right by. He had a hard time deciphering you, whether you were being genuine or not.

You met Donnie’s silence with a sigh. “I want to see what you’ve been getting up to without me here,” you said in a kinder, softer voice, hoping it would make him feel more comfortable. “You’re not mad?” He asked instead. You smiled and shook your head. “The opposite.”

Donnie's hand began stroking his cock again, now with his eyes open, looking at you. He realized then how much better you looked in real life than in that still picture. His hand holding your underwear softened its grip. “Did you steal these?” You pointed at the panties. Donnie’s gaze looked far away and cloudy. He hummed a yes.

He was not sure if this was real. Maybe he fell asleep while masturbating and was having some sort of erotic dream, but this was too realistic. His body spasmed in pleasure as he watched your face. It almost felt more perverted to jerk off to your face than, let’s say, your tits. This was not just desperation; this was adoration.

“What do you do with them?” You asked, already knowing the answer. But hearing him say it would do so much for you. “I smell them,” Donnie whimpered in response; his whole being was getting eaten up by horniness, and he did not have enough brain power to feel shame anymore. He just wanted to cum.

“Show me,” you inquired, and he obliged. He smothered himself with them once again, heavily breathing in your scent. His thighs shook as he did, and his hips moved more than his hand by now. He was basically fucking up into his fist. He moaned hopelessly into the lace, which did not do much to muffle the sounds. His sheer desperation turned you on as much as it angered you. You grabbed the panties from him and shoved them into his open mouth. “You’re too noisy.”

A few whimpers still slipped out, but you could deal with that. You tried your best to hold back, because even though you enjoyed watching him suffer, you wanted to put your lips to his flushed, sweaty skin and kiss him all over. He could make up for it later.

You could tell he was nearing his climax by the way his legs trembled and flexed. The veins on his thin, pale hand were protruding from the strain. The panties in his mouth were useless by now as his sounds grew louder. So, you took them out and replaced them with your tongue. He writhed on his sheets and sucked on your tongue. It was not pretty; it was sloppy and messy, but God, it felt good.

He accidentally bit down on your lip when he came, mixing your blood into the shared saliva. His cum landed on his stomach, cooling him down when the breeze from the AC brushed his skin. You broke the kiss and breathed heavily into each other’s mouths. “I’ve missed you so much,” Donnie said, still sounding whiny and weak. You smiled, “Me too. Now you can have the real deal,” you teased and pecked his lips. He hummed happily, wanting nothing more than to dive between your thighs.

#jake gyllenhaal #jake gyllenhaal fanfic #jake gyllenhaal fanfiction #jake gyllenhaal imagine #jake gyllenhaal x reader #jake gyllenhaal smut #fanfiction #smut #donnie darko #donnie darko fanfic #donnie darko x reader #donnie darko smut #donnie darko fanfiction

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appleblueberry-pie · 22 days ago

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Powerful Sorcerer Reader x Yandere Nanami x Yandere Gojo

"So, what am I going to say when she wakes up? What if she panics when she wakes up? I don't want those ropes to be too tight. Haha, Nanami, I'd fucking kill you if she wakes up hurt becaus-"

Nanami stands from tying your ankle and sizes up Gojo, an annoyed and angered look on his face. "The ropes aren't too tight. I made sure of that. I'll make sure she won't go into a frenzy when she wakes up. And if she doesn't, you can take over. That's what we agreed on." Gojo's smile never faltered even when Nanami clutched the ropes tightly, probably refraining from strangling him. "Whatever you say. But just know, I'm trusting your expertise. I'm sure you have experience in kidnapping girls, right?" Nanami clenched his jaw, refraining from arguing with Gojo. He felt insulted that Gojo assumed that there would ever be others before you.

He released a heavy sigh, plopping the remaining rope on a nearby table, next to some rags, anesthesia, a knife and a tall insulated bottle of ice cold water for if you need it.

Nanami was organizing other materials when he heard Gojo cooing. He turned and saw him bending down to where you were sitting, beginning to stir from sleep. His heart skipped a beat as he abandoned the station to check on you.

You felt like shit. Nothing was registering in your mind even though you wanted it to. Your vision was lagging and so was your speech. When your confusion cleared, you felt your stiff joints were....tied? Two men. One taller than the other, but both definitely bulky. You couldn't move.

"Fuck," You whispered, still disoriented, scrunching your face.

"Relax. You've worked yourself up enough on the way here." You recognized the voice but couldn't understand why this was happening and how. Warm and rough hands softly touched at your shoulders. When you looked up, you noticed blue eyes, white hair and- Gojo? You instantly straightened your posture realizing you really were tied up and, essentially, kidnapped.

Immediately, you began pulling at your restraints. Your ankles and arms were tied. He tied you up? Who's this other guy? "Hey, hey. Look at me." The rough hand that was on your shoulder moved to your chin and turned you to face the second man here, Nanami Kento. "What the fuck? Why am I tied up?" You understood immediately that even if you did break out of these restraints, you'd have to fight Gojo, which is automatically a shitty way to go out. You were stuck.

Nanami's mouth was moving but none of his words were registering when you began thinking of all possible scenarios that could've led to this. You don't remember anything before you were knocked out. You don't know how they knocked you out or how they got you alone for this to work in the first place. You were in a tank and some jeans. The clothes fit you perfectly, but they weren't yours. You wanted to know where your support was, where everyone was and why no one was fucking finding you by now. You also wanted to understand why the two men you thought you could trust had you in this situation in the first place.

"I trusted you." Those were the words you whispered and the only words you could think of at the moment. Kento frowned and Gojo pouted, stepping closer to you. He looked at your wide and unfocused eyes, not really knowing how to deal with you at the moment.

Which is exactly why Kento stepped in, kneeling in front of you, cupping your warm face in his hands. "I know how it looks, Y/n. But you need to trust me. Trust us. We want nothing but the best for you, honey. And this way, we can all-" "Can you begin with telling me what in the fresh hell is going on?" Your stern face made Nanami swallow his rehearsed words.

"You're in better hands, sweetie." You looked up past Nanami to Gojo, who was back to smiling. He took off his sunglasses that he had on (in the basement) for whatever reason to stare deeply into your eyes.

"We're going to give you the life we both know you deserve. You need something better than giving your soul away to some no-life, sexist old heads who don't know how to govern a world of sorcery even if they tried. He doesn't want you to work yourself to death and I personally don't want you to work at all. I want you to be free. And I want you to realize that the best of what you can have in your life can be given to you if you just trust us. That's all."

"I did trust you."

"You didn't have to stop. It's not like we'll hurt you....not unless you want-"

"Gojo." Nanami stood and sighed. "If you're willing to trust us once more," He gave you a tired smile, "then this can be easier for all of us. We won't do anything to you that you don't want us to do." "You're already doing some shit I don't like."

Nanami averted his gaze. "That's not-" "What? That's not what you were talking about? Then lets talk about something you're more comfortable with, how's that sound?" You lean forward, staring up at Kento with those eyes. He feels the tense aura of your cursed energy in ways he's never felt before. It made the pressure in his ears increase. It made him immobile. It made him scared. "Set me free."

He blinks. "I don't..." "It's just that these restraints hurt me and...I hate that you don't want me to be closer to you." You leaned back, making sure his eyes are still up on yours. "It doesn't matter where we go or what we do in the end. Because all I want is for you to use me in whichever ways you want, Kento. That's why I'm here, right? Just set me free and i'll be whatever you want me to be."

Kento felt his skin burning despite the cold air and ridiculous pressure surrounding him. You were stronger than him. And he felt that with every second that passed. With every inch of your energy squeezing him like an anaconda snake. But all he could focus on was the message his heart was telling him. Which was to believe you entirely. He really wanted to. So he did. All of the months of dreaming of those words leaving your mouth finally came up to haunt him once more. Maybe-

"Wow, does this apply to me, too?" A boisterous laugh interrupted Kento's upcoming fantasy and Gojo came up to harshly clasp his shoulder. "I thought you were smarter than that, Nanami. But, alas, I understand if her siren song pulled you into her tale of lies. But that's why I'm here, right?" Gojo pushed back Nanami and took his place, kneeling to be level with your eyes.

"If only that worked on me, too." You don't say anything, your frown deepening. "This room is directly connected to our bedroom. That's where you'll sleep. With us. And connected to another side of that bedroom is the bathroom. Those are the only places you'll have access to until you prove you're sweet enough to listen." He laughs, scanning your face.

"We're still in Japan. A city that I won't name. It's not like it matters anyway because you'll never leave."

"How can you be so sure of that?" "Because I will break your fucking teeth in if you even utter anything that suggests your escape." Gojo felt himself getting uncontrollably angry at the way this played out. He hated that you even considered leaving after you were blessed with a new life with your soulmates. Years of understanding you and understanding how finally capture you and have you all to himself only for this.

You were just as upset as he was. You never wanted this. You hated every second of this. The thoughts of possibilities of how your stay with them can end made your skin crawl, which only made you more scared as well as angry. Energy continued to swallow the room. Gojo's energy poured from his heart and soul, despite the smile on his face. Your energy continued to creep from you, drowning the room in the words you weren't able to say in the form of your energy. Nanami choked on the Cursed Energy. This was almost too much for him to handle and suddenly, he found himself thanking Gojo mentally for being here. He couldn't handle you alone.

"I never wanted this."

"Then act like you do."

"Make me!"

Gojo sighed irritably, the smile on his face disappearing entirely. He stood and gripped the hair at your scalp with one hand. You growled at him daring to touch you but then grunted in pain when he pulled at it, making your head tilt back. His other hand grabbing at his pants. "I'm getting fucking tired of this mouth of yours." Gojo had closed the space between the two of you, both feet on either side of the chair you were tied to as he stared down at you as if you were nothing.

The last thing you'd do is just allow him to use your mouth like a gloryhole, so you worked on tearing out of your binds. The energy in the room seemed to increase tenfold and Nanami panicked, not wanting a fight to break out. "Gojo!" Nanami grabbed Gojo, pulling him back. Gojo let go of your hair and snapped his head at the other man in the room before pausing. "Remember what we're here for."

You stood from where you were previously held, walking towards the two men. Nanami let go of Gojo to walk towards you, trusting you wouldn't lash out on him. He sighed, softly touching your shoulders. He hated the look you gave him. He knew you felt cornered and wanted nothing more than to just take this stress away from you. Not give you more to worry about. "I'm sorry. He didn't mean it and I'm apologizing on his behalf. We just want what's best for you, but we can't do that if you can't...comply." He hated using that word.

You didn't say anything. Silence filled the room and your energy dissipated. "It's almost dinnertime. I don't really have anything planned to make. I don't trust Gojo's suggestions. So, dinner's selection can be whatever you want tonight." Nanami fixed what he could of your hair and saw emotions begin to fill your eyes.

"We can do whatever you want, honey. But I need to know if-"

"Do you love me?"

Nanami paused.

Was this another one of your tricks? It couldn't have been. The way you said it was...defeated. You looked sad and tired. And all he could say in return was the truth.

"More than anything."

You looked over at Gojo. He was looking at you with a neutral stare that definitely meant more than it gave off. You looked back at Nanami and responded.

"Then do that. I just want to trust that you won't...abuse me."

Nanami scrunched his eyebrows. "Why would I...?"

"That's all I ask." You passed him and walked up to Gojo, watching the corner of his lips turn up as you approach him.

"I'm sorry." He tilts his head. "You're joking, right?" "Do you want it to be one?" He looks up and taps his chin as if he's thinking about it. You don't wait for him to respond and walk back to where you originally woke and sat down, hugging yourself. "I'm cold."

Nanami immediately strips from his button-up shirt and wraps it around your shoulders. The warmth blanketed you and you briefly scanned his muscular upper half before thanking him quietly. His face relaxed when he realized you no longer wanted hostility. He noticed it was, in fact, pretty cold and turned to Gojo, wanting to get you out of the basement. Gojo grinned before walking up to you. "Well, it's been a tiring first day for all of us, it seems. It's time for you to eat before we head to bed, sweetie. You ready?"

As the two men began playing house with you, you were so sure that one of these days, you'd break out of here. They spoke about giving you freedom but what is freedom if you're supposed to be tied to them forever? You didn't want either of them and you'd be sure to show them in the end that you weren't the one to try this on. You'd play the waiting game for now.

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colossrat · 2 months ago

Text

So, Billy is actually Bruce's biological son.

Marylyn married CC when she was already pregnant, CC knew and was okay with it, they really love each other and Bruce was just an accident? I don't know.

A few years later, Ebezener tries to sell this information, someone from the Waynes or Kanes, I don't know about that side of the lore… Are the Kanes still alive? Sorry, I'm ignorant in that area. SOMEONE is going to pay him to shut up. So they sell Billy again to a bunch of bad guys who are going to sell him AGAIN to somewhere, I don't know, far away from Gotham.

Well, but Billy is kind of like "oh my Gods, why this is my life", so he uses his powers, leaves the place as Cap and, as a bonus, he even gets Ebezener's money, the one the Kanes give him to shut up.

Kate, Batwoman, finds out, tells Bruce about this whole crap situation and now Batman is opening an operation to find this secret biological son, who was apparently sold to someone, but a mysterious magical person came there and saved him and the other children who were also being trafficked, but who??? This is a very secret operation, of course, only Wonder Woman, Superman and the Batfam are there to really know the details.

Well, but one day, like, YEARS after all this suffering, because Bruce never managed to locate this secret child that he now thinks is DEAD, boom, a child shows up on a mission, 15, 16 years old maybe, the age his secret son would be… blue eyes, dark hair, pale as paper, skinny, but yeah, it's pretty obvious. It's something immediate, but before he can say anything, someone else shows up, hugging the kid and saying that he was really worried.

Yeah, guys, Cap and Billy got separate cliche, but well, the JL, needed help, so they went to help them like this.

Billy is Billy, 16 year old Billy, and Marvel doesn't look like CC Batson, but rather like an adult version of Billy. Bodytpe less like Superman and more like Nightwing.

And then they introduce themselves as CAPTAIN MARVEL'S ADOPTED CHILDREN. Yes, we have Recruit (Billy) and Lightning (Thavma).

And so yes, they are helping the League, guiding them out of that evil, magical cave, and the League keeps asking questions.

Recruit, sitting on Lightning's shoulder: Uh… yeah, so, actually I… was going to… get taken by a metahuman taffricking ring, Lightning saved me and after that we really didn't want to be apart, he convinces Cap to adopt me too, and now he helps me with my magic training and everything. But I'm Lightning's… sidekick. Not Marvel's, that's why you guys and I have never really met.

Flash: Yeah, but like, even if we never met you since your hero job its not Marvel related, how come we never met Lightning? It feels like he's been a hero for a few years or more.

Lightning: I don't really like being seen. Im more of an underground hero? I want to help, but I honestly don't know how to deal with the public like Cap does. So I help in the shadows. I help, and then I'm gone. Maybe I'm more of a vigilante..? Not a hero.

And Batman's like, "I want to adopt you two now," but he's also like, "My baby found a good, powerful family, what right do I have to tell him about our kinship? What if this ruins everything for him? He's fine. He doesn't need me," but it destroys him.

He sees the way Recruit fights, remembers him of little Dick, jumping around and doing silly stunts. And his smile, so bright, so hopeful, so happy.

He hears his laugh and it calms something inside him.

"He's fine. He's happy, that's enough for me."

Billy and Cap actually take a long time to undo the magic spell that separated them, so they end up covering Marvel for other missions, and one day, Billy kind of spills the beans.

Kon: So, about your birth parents… Are they dead? Didn't they come after you were rescued from trafficking? Recruit: Uh, so… My parents are dead, but my dad was not my biological father, or something… My shitty uncle sold that information to my bio "family", I guess, and they're super rich, so they probably didn't want me to ruin their image in high society as some bastard orphan, so they were the ones who cut me out of that circle from the start. From what I heard when I was in the ring, my... Progenitor, has a lot of bastards already, and the family was happy to be able to stop another one from coming to steal their fortune or something. assholes, I never wanted to meet them in the first place, even if my uncle had dropped me with them, I wouldn't stay, I'd rather live on the streets again.

And some of the batfam, who know all about this "he's the one" thing, are there, listening, and they already know that these words are breaking Bruce from the inside out.

Lightning: You're being mean. We don't even know if they sold you out. The… Big guy seems to like adopting and doesn't care about their background. I believe it was a decision by the old conservative family heads.

Recruit: Don't sugarcoat it for the rich, they already pay people to do it. yeah, i know, maybe this is that "no he wouldn't do that" thing, but i wanted to write a sadder au with angst and misunderstandings and a sentimental bruce who longs to be a present father with a bonus of thavma and billy being brothers :D

#billy batson #headcanon #shazam #batman #captain marvel #dc #dc captain marvel #bruce wayne #batfamily #batfam #thavma

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athenamikaelson · 11 months ago

Text

Klaus Mikaelson x Reader!Soulmate x Elijah Mikaelson PART 10

Word Count- 7.2k

Warnings- Swearing, blood, violence, death, Damon’s ass/Damon BEING an ass, shitty Google translate, spelling mistakes(I'm wayyy too tired to edit this rn)

A/N- some of this is not canon just because I love a character too much and she deserved better in the show.

“Are you just going to keep sulking in here,” I ask from my position in Damon’s doorway.

Damon answers me back with a loud groan mixed with what I believe to be a growl, “Tell me again why you’re here. And why I haven’t killed you yet?”

If I had just met Damon I would be scared of what he just asked me, but after these past weeks of knowing him, I’ve realized most of his threats are half-assed. So I just shrug and walk into his room.

“My mother and brother are away for the week visiting family, leaving me home alone. And, well, I don’t feel like having “he who shall not be named,” come and kill me in my sleep. And you haven’t killed me because you don’t want to. I’ve called you many bad names to your face, and yet I stand here, unharmed."

“Here you stand annoying the hell out of me. Again.”

I roll my eyes and sit on the edge of Damon’s bed. Damon still hasn’t moved from his position under the covers.

“Damon,” I turn over my shoulder to look at him and he lets out yet another groan to acknowledge he’s listening, “I’m going to be honest with you.”

“Nothing new there,” I hear him say under his breath sarcastically.

“You’re kind of embarrassing to watch right now,” I turn to see him fully glaring at me now, “You’re how old? Like five thousand years or something like that? It’s time you grew up.”

“Says the high schooler.”

“Says the man in love with a high schooler,” I bite back which has him shutting up momentarily.

“You don't know anything,” He says as he finally sits up in his bed. His white sheet falling down, revealing his naked chest. I quickly avert my eyes, not because I’m attracted to him but because seeing Damon half-naked would be like seeing my annoying ass distant cousin naked. No, thank you.

“Don’t bullshit me, Demon-spawn,” I point an accusing finger at him resulting in him glaring at me some more.

“I know you have feelings for Elena, everyone and their bloody mothers knows. And as much as I like Stefan, I also don’t think it should be something you need to feel bad for,” I think momentarily and tap my chin in thought, “Well, okay. Maybe a little bad because she’s 17 and you’re like 1,000 and she’s also your little brother’s girlfriend,” I catch Damon’s deadly look and stop rambling, “Moving along…What I’m trying to say is that we can’t control who we catch feelings for. And honestly, Elena’s pretty and nice as hell so I don’t blame you there. But what we can control is how we choose to express those feelings.”

Damon just stares blankly at me and I feel like I’d be better off giving a toddler this speech.

“What you’re doing right now, sulking and getting mad at everyone around you for something that is out of our control isn’t helping anyone. It’s only making things worse. Elena’s my best friend and I know she’s scared out of her mind right now but doesn’t want to say it because it'll cause more stress for the people she loves. What she needs right now is all of us. After tonight is over and Elijah’s elixir brings her back then you can go back to your hissy fits but right now,” I stand up and face him, planting my hands on my hips in a power pose, “You need to get your ass out of bed and get a fucking grip.”

Damon and I hold each other’s glares for a straight minute before he huffs, throws his blanket off of him, and gets out of bed. I have to fight a smirk as I get overly proud of my pep talk.

“I’m really starting to miss when it was just puke coming out of that mouth of yours,” Damon growls as he walks to the bathroom and pulls down his boxers without a second thought. My eyes fly out of my head as I get a full look at Damon’s white ass. I quickly turn around and gag.

“Dude! Seriously, warn a girl!”

---

“I don’t remember you being so…talky,” Damon’s voice yells from over the water of his shower.

I frown as I think about his comment and sit back down on the edge of his bed facing the front door and not the bathroom. Not wanting to get a face full of his behind again, or worse…ugh.

“I…don’t think I’ve ever been talky. There has never been a reason for me to be,” I say back to him not really caring if he hears or not.

A moment later I hear the shower water stop and his footsteps padding around behind me.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean,” Damon says from next to me and I slowly turn hoping he’s at least half decent.

Thankfully, he has covered his behind with jeans and is currently slipping a shirt over his chest.

I think about his question and then shrug my shoulders, “I’ve never really had friends to talk to, and whenever I had tried talking to people they just hadn’t cared. So I never really saw the point in talking.”

Damon stops fixing the buttons on his shirt momentarily to look at me. His eyebrows are drawn together and the look in his eyes isn’t one I think I’ve seen from him before. Something about it almost seems kind of…human. But within another second it’s gone and his lip upturns into a smirk.

“People are a waste of time anyway. The only good thing about them…,” He takes a step closer to me and leans down so he’s in my face, “Is there blood.”

I huff as I stand up and push past him heading towards the door, “And here I thought I could actually have a half-decent conversation with you. My mistake.”

I start walking through the halls toward the living room where Elena, Stefan, and Elijah are. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Damon catch up to me so we’re walking side by side.

“You’re kind of annoying,” He says and I have to fight the urge to not punch him.

“Gee, thanks,” I go to walk faster but he catches up to me again.

“What I mean is…,” He pauses for a moment trying to find his words, “You may be annoying but that doesn’t mean what you have to say is pointless or something that shouldn’t be heard. Screw anyone who tells you otherwise…or just kill them.”

I look at him with a confused look matching the confused feelings I now have, “Thank you? I think.”

“Don’t mention it,” He leans down and glares at me, “Seriously, I will kill you if you tell anyone what I just said.”

I suck on my teeth and then nod my head, “And there’s the Demon we all know and loathe.”

“Right, back at you, Pukey.”

I watch as Damon’s eyebrows furrow as we get closer to the living room and as we enter he speaks up, “Then why are we letting him break the curse?”

I follow Damon into the living room and see Elena and Stefan sitting together on a sofa and Elijah standing before them. Elijah’s eyes lock onto mine and I acknowledge him by sending him a small smile which he just returns with a nod. Okay, Rude.

“We can kill him today. With Bonnie,” Damon says and I realize we’re talking about him. At the mention of him, I begin to clench my fists as a surge of anger rises through me but stop myself since I don’t feel like accidentally cutting myself in a room of vampires. I take my seat on a loveseat next to Elena, who sends me a warm smile before turning towards Damon.

“No. Bonnie can’t use that much power without dying.”

“I’ll write her a great eulogy,” Damon’s words have me turning in my seat and glaring at him. So much for my speech getting to him.

“It’s not an option Damon,” You tell him, Elena.

Stefan sighs, “Alright, how do we break this curse?”

“Well, the ritual itself is relatively straightforward. The ingredients, so to speak you already know,” Elijah answers.

“The moonstone,” Stefan says.

“A witch will channel the power of the full moon to release the spell that’s bound within the stone. After that Klaus, being both a werewolf and a vampire, will sacrifice one of each.”

“And where do I fit into it,” Elena asks him.

“The final part of the ritual. Klaus must drink the blood of the doppelganger…to the point of your death.”

Elijah’s words have both Stefan and I taking deep breaths.

“And that’s where you come in.”

Elijah goes to the shelf behind him and opens a little wooden box, “This is an elixir that I acquired some 500 years ago for Katerina. It possesses the mystical properties of resuscitation.”

“So I’ll be dead..”

“And then you won’t.”

Damon the grouch speaks up, “That’s your plan? A magical witch potion with no expiration date,” He turns to Elena, “You want to come back to life, what…What about John’s ring?”

“Those rings only work on humans. The doppelganger is a supernatural occurrence. Odds are…the ring won’t work.”

“I’ll take those odds over your elixir. What if it doesn’t work Elena?”

“Then I guess I’ll just be dead.”

Damon shoots his brother a look, but knowing Stefan, he’ll go with whatever Elena wants. Even if he doesn’t agree. Damon realizes this too before shooting another glare at the group before leaving the living room back to where we originally came from.

“Do we know if Klaus has everything he needs to do this? Does he have a werewolf?”

“Klaus has been waiting over a thousand years to break this curse. If he doesn’t already have a werewolf my guess is by tonight, he will.”

—

I watch from my position on the couch as Stefan follows his brother outside. That’s going to be a fun conversation.

Elena approaches Elijah, “You’d think he’d understand why I’m willing to do this.”

“Why are you?”

“I’m the key to breaking the curse. Klaus is here because of me. If I don’t stop him, then he’s gonna hurt people. It’s that simple.”

I frown sadly to myself and fight back the watering that has started in my eyes. This isn’t fair. None of this is.

“You know, there’s a possibility this elixir won’t work. I don't want to mislead you.”

“I know the chance I’m taking.”

The tense atmosphere is broken by a door slamming shut and a woman yelling from the foyer.

“Jenna, Jenna!”

“Get out!”

I quickly rise from my seat and go to follow behind Elena to check on Jenna, but a hand grabs my own, pulling me back.

“Wait here,” Elijah’s stern voice says to me as he drops my hand and follows behind Elena. I watch his retreating figure and shake my head. Who tf does this guy think he’s talking to?

I run towards the foyer and freeze when I see Ric standing there. Or Klaus, I guess. My breathing gets faster and I’m debating on whether to swing on him or pass out.

“Jenna, put the cross-bow down, okay? It’s me.”

Stefan joins us and Elijah comes to stand in front of me, not before shooting me a disapproving look.

“What’s going on,” Elena asks the two adults.

“It’s me, Elena, I swear, okay? He let me go. Klaus let me go,” I frown at Ric’s words and look to Elijah to see if he can tell if Ric is telling the truth or not but his face is completely still.

“Prove it,” Damon who has now joined says.

“Okay, uh, the first night you and I spent together Jeremy walked in right when-”

“Ok! It’s him,” Jenna exclaims as she drops her weapon. Ew. Everyone in the room throws glances at each other before turning back towards Ric.

“Why did he let you go,” Stefan asks.

“He wanted me to deliver a message. The sacrifice happens tonight.”

—-

“Katherine was there,” Ric says from his position on the couch. We all moved back into the living room to keep discussing our plans for tonight.

“She’s under compulsion. Damon snuck her vervain but she can't leave until Klaus tells her she can.”

“Where is Damon,” Elena questions, and I get a bit unnerved. Not knowing where Damon is is not an ideal situation.

“I saw him go upstairs,” Jenna says.

Elena stands up and goes towards his room and I go to follow her but Elijah grabs my upper arm, “I need to speak with you,” I begin to argue back as he pulls me into the next room.

“Dude let go of me,” I hiss at him and he drops my arm and stares blankly at me.

“Do not dude me, Elskan,” Elijah says with that stupid monotone voice of his that makes me want to wrap my hands around his throat.

“You don’t get to tell me what to do Elijah,” I whisper yell to him so the others don’t overhear us, “And stop with that stupid nickname.”

Elijah narrows his eyes at me, “You are making it incredibly hard for me to protect you.”

“Oh I’m sorry,” I roll my eyes sarcastically, “I didn’t realize you actually cared, since you’ve been acting like you don't.”

Elijah’s narrowed eyes morph into ones of confusion, “What are you talking about?”

“Seriously! One second you’re making all these promises to protect me and being all nice and stuff and then the next moment you won’t even acknowledge my existence.”

“It would be impossible for me to not acknowledge your existence, Y/n. There is not a single moment where I am not searching for you. This situation,” He gestures between us, “Is not something I take lightly. And keeping you safe is now my most important mission in this life. So I apologize if I have hurt your feelings whilst doing that.”

I’m frozen as I listen to Elijah and he takes a single step towards me. He reaches his hand up and brushes a stray hair behind my ear.

“You have no idea how long I have waited for you,” His words have me frowning in confusion as he brushes his finger across my cheek, “But, I fear that if I let myself get too close then it will only put you in more danger and I would rather dagger myself before ever letting that happen.”

My chest and my brain don't seem to be working properly as I just stare wide-eyed at the man in front of me. I try to think of something, anything really to say but I can’t seem to get my mouth to form a sentence.

A loud bang comes from upstairs and Elijah gives me one more look before exiting. I feel like I’m on autopilot as I walk towards the noise, catching sight of Ric and Jenna running towards it as well. I make my way up to Damon’s room and gasp as I see Stefan with a very big piece of wood through his stomach. Ric tries to grab Damon but the ladder pushes him off him before walking out of the room.

“Okay, Jenna, downstairs in the basement are some blood bags,” Ric tells Jenna who is standing in front of me, “Go get them, now. Go!”

Jenna leaves as Elena rips the wood out of Stefan. I walk over and kneel next to them as Elena holds and tries to comfort her hurt boyfriend.

“I’m so sorry,” Stefan groans out.

I frown, confused, “Why is he sorry? He’s the one who got stabbed?”

I’m ignored for a moment as Elena shushes Stefan until he passes out and with tearful eyes, she looks over to me, “Damon he…he fed me his blood. Y/n, I don’t want to be a vampire”

'My chest practically caves in on itself as I hear my friend's small sobs and shake my head in denial, “No…no. There has to be another way. There has to be Elena,” I stand up and look at her once more, “You’re not going to be a vampire.”

—

I storm through the halls and down the stairs until I see Damon in the living room pouring himself a glass of whatever alcohol he has on hand. That anger from before rises at the idea of what he just did.

“You selfish bastard,” I storm over to him and I see Elijah try to stop me from the corner of my eye, only to receive my hand in his face. And as Damon turns around to look at me he receives my fist in his face.

Damon hisses as my fist flies across his cheekbone and I fight back tears at the pain in my knuckles. I’ve never thrown a punch before but I didn’t realize it would hurt this much. Jesus.

Damon looks back at me as if my punch did nothing to him, which it probably didn’t and I expect him to charge at me, and I’m assuming Elijah does as well because he moves next to me. But all Damon does is stare at me, raise his glass to his lips, downs it, and then exits the living room.

“You’ve never thrown a punch before have you,” Elijah’s voice has me turning my gaze over to him.

I look at him sheepishly, “Is it that obvious?”

Elijah stares at me and from his face I think he's trying to debate whether to be amused by me or scold me, “A bit, but I applaud you for the effort,” Elijah’s eyes dart towards my hurting hand and he picks it up with his own and inspects it.

“You’ll have some bruising but thankfully there appears to be no breakage.”

I let out a pained hiss as one of his fingers brushed against my middle knuckle. He instantly stops and looks at me.

“I can heal you if you’d like,” He asks me and I remember back to when he healed me the first time. It feels like another lifetime ago.

“I’ll be fine,” I dismiss him and he nods but doesn’t drop my hand. He does reach his other hand up and uses his thumb to wipe a stray tear off my cheek.

“I’m sorry about Elena,” I quickly remember why I punched Damon in the first place and go to question about the elixir but he shakes his head as if he already knows what I’m thinking, “It won’t work any longer. Damon made sure of that when he fed her his blood. When Elena dies she’ll wake up as a vampire."

I shake my head in denial and feel the tears reach my eyes again, “No... Elijah. There has to be another way! Please tell me there’s another way.”

Elijah’s features form to one of sorrow as if he can feel the pain I’m in, “I’m sorry, Elskan. I truly am.”

I shake my head and bite down hard on my lip to try to stop my tears. Elijah reaches up his hand though and frees my bottom lip from my teeth with his thumb.

“Come here,” Elijah says as he pulls me into him and wraps his arms around my body. The smell of something masculine, almost smoky, surrounds me as he rests his chin on my head. After everything that has happened, if I were to die like this in his embrace, I don’t think I would regret it.

—

I wipe the remnants of my smeared mascara as I look at myself in my car mirror. After Elijah left the Salvatore’s saying he had some loose ends to clean up before tonight and to not get myself into any more trouble, I went to check on Elena.

She hugged me for about ten minutes straight and I just rubbed her back as she cried into my shoulder. And I may or may not have cried along with her, feeling heartbroken for my friend.

Elena and Stefan then left together to go spend her last day as a human together, which is as bittersweet as it is heartbreaking. And after bidding Jenna and Ric a goodbye I found myself driving to the Mystic Grill. That’s why I am now sitting in it’s parking lot trying to collect myself and trying to keep myself busy for what is to happen tonight.

I open my car door and hold my bruised hand tentatively as I push through the front door to the Grill. I had seen a “Help Wanted,” sign here the other day and if I hopefully survive the night I’ll need a job for the summer. Not being a trust fund baby really sucks ass sometimes.

Matt Donovan sends me a warm smile as I walk past him. I'd never really talked to the guy other than the few times in class where he’d ask to borrow a pencil or if I could help him with some math equation, but he always seemed sweet. Unlike the stupid jock stereotype, I’ve gotten used to seeing in this town. After being told by Elena what happened to his sister and that now he lives by himself as a 17-year-old because his mom’s a deadbeat, I feel bad for the guy.

I let out a low groan as I stop my walk towards the bar which is currently occupied by the demon overlord himself. I debate to myself if I should just turn around, but a hand on my shoulder shocks me.

Ric stands there with his hands raised up in apology, “My bad Y/N. Didn’t mean to scare you. Just wanted to check on you and see how you’re doing.”

I look at Ric and sigh, “I’m just glad you’re you again.”

Ric nods his head in agreement, “Ya, me too. I didn’t hurt you while I was Klaus right?”

I shake my head, “No Ric, and even if you did it wouldn’t have been your fault. You had no control over yourself.”

Ric sends me a warm smile and nods, “I feel kind of violated, to be honest.”

I snort at his joke, “I don’t blame you.”

“I need a drink,” Ric says as he walks with me up towards the bar and my knuckles start to burn as I stare at the hair on the back of Demon’s head.

“I’ll have the same as him,” Ric says to the waiter as he sits on Damon’s right and I sit down on his left. The waiter then looks at me for my drink order, “A Shirley Temple, please. And a job application?”

The waiter, a half-decent-looking man, smirks as he pulls out a pad of papers from behind the bar and hands them to me before going back to making drinks.

“Job searching, Pukey,” Damon asks from beside me and I stare forward not looking at him.

“Ric,” I call to him and he turns to look at me, “If Damon’s here who do you think is guarding the gates of hell?”

Rics snorts out a deep laugh and I can see Damon scowling from beside me. The waiter comes back and gives Ric his bourbon and me my Shirley Temple. I accidentally grab it with my injured hand and try to cover the hiss I let out, with a cough.

“How’s your hand,” Damon asks from next to me. I’m surprised that his voice doesn’t sound completely sarcastic.

I turn and glare at him, “How’s your face?”

Damon sends me a smirk and gestures to his unmarked face, “Perfect.”

I roll my eyes and take a sip of my Shirley Temple ignoring whatever the two men next to me are talking about. That is until a voice that has my heart doing a fucking backflip in my chest calls from behind us.

“Gentlemen? Why so glum,” A deep British voice asks and I could’ve sworn goosebumps went up my arms at the sound. What the fuck?

All three of us turn to match the voice to the face and…Holy shit.

A tall dark-blond man stands about a foot length from me. At this distance, I can see the different shades of blue in his eyes and the small freckles that decorate his perfect nose.

I hear Damon groan from behind me and I’m not sure why as I’m too busy ogling the pretty man before me.

“Klaus, I presume.”

I blink. And then I blink again. And then once more as I’m frozen staring at Klaus. The Shirley Temple in my hands starts to shake as I can’t take my eyes off the man.

“In the flesh. Thanks for the loner, mate,” Klaus smirks at Ric and if I wasn’t in total shock right now I’d defend him. But the man I’ve thought of killing for the past week is standing right in front of me and I was counting how many fucking freckles I could see on his goddamned nose. There’s thirteen.

Shut tf up Y/n?!

Klaus hasn’t looked my way once and although I should be glad about that a part of my lower stomach drops at the fact.

Damon stands from his seat and goes to face the man, “Any reason you stopped by to say hi?”

“I’m told you and your brother fancy my doppelganger. Just thought I’d remind you not to do anything you’ll regret,” Klaus’ warning doesn’t seem to sway Damon as the ladder lets out a laugh.

“Thanks for the advice. I don’t supposed I could talk you into a postponement by any chance, huh?”

Klaus lets out a chuckle and I swear my heart just skipped a beat. What the fuck Y/n?!?!??

“You are kidding,” Klaus asks and then turns to Ric, “He is kidding, right?”

“No, not really.”

“I mean, come on, what’s one month in the whole grand scheme of things,” Damon asks and I realize that he’s doing this because he doesn’t want Elena to die with vampire blood in her system.

“Ya, I mean one month is like,” I pretend to count on my fingers, “Like thirty days. I don’t see why you can’t wait that long. You’ve already waited over a thousand years, what’s thirty days?”

I ask the man and this finally has Klaus acknowledging my presence. But honestly, from the way he’s looking at me, I wish I would’ve kept quiet. His eyebrows are drawn together and his lips curve upwards into what I hope isn’t a snarl. Damon must’ve noticed the look too because he moves in front of me blocking me from Klaus’ vision and him from mine.

“Let me be clear,” I hear Klaus’ deep voice say, “I have my vampire, I have my werewolf. I have everything I need. The ritual will happen tonight. So if you want to live to see tomorrow don’t screw it up.”

I catch sight of Klaus’ back as he strolls away.

“Would I be a bad person to say I kind of hope his werewolf was the Jules’ chick,” I see Ric shoot me an “Are you serious” look and I shrug, “Hey, she was the one who tortured me. I still got the little knife scare on my leg to prove it.”

Damon doesn’t say anything as he sits back down and sighs.

“You’re gonna screw it up, aren’t you?”

“You think if I took his werewolf out of the equation she might…get over the fact that I tried to turn her into a vampire?”

“Nope,” I say popping the p.

“I think it won’t matter, because you’ll be dead.”

“But without the werewolf he can’t preform the ritual tonight which means I would have bought her one month before the next full moon.”

Ric shakes his head, “But you’ll still be dead.”

Damon leans into him, “Are you gonna help me or what?”

Ric looks at him for a moment, “What do you want me to do?”

I slurp up the rest of my drink, throw a five onto the counter, and jump up as the two men next to me watch me wearily.

“Alright gentlemen, dream team time!”

Ric raises an eyebrow while Damon shoots me a look of disgust, “I don’t know what the hell that was, but you’re not coming along.”

I frown as I grab my application and follow behind the two men, “Why the hell not? I want to help.”

Damon whips around to me, “Look kid, not happening. There’s already too much shit going down and I can’t be babysitting you, making sure you don’t get killed on my watch. So go back home and we’ll see you tonight. Capiche?”

Damon turns back around and walks to his car. Ric sends me one last smile and a shrug of his shoulders before following behind. I watch the two men drive off and I sigh as I stand in the middle of the parking lot. Anger and sadness building in me, when I realize just how useless I truly am.

—

I try to give Elijah a smile as he opens the SUV door for me. But with the mood I’m in I think the smile comes out more like a frown than anything else. Elijah must notice this too as he reaches his hand out for me to take. I debate it for a moment, 1. Not being a big fan of PDA, and 2. Stefan and Ric are with us and I don’t want them to be angry with me. But then I remember that my best friend is going to die tonight so a little PDA isn’t that huge in the grand scheme of things.

Elijah seems elated as I place my hand in his and he guides Stefan and I through the woods toward the creepy ass witch house where Bonnie, Jeremy, and Ric are.

“The sacrifice is completed in stages as the full moon sets,” Elijah explains to us. I feel his hand squeeze mine in comfort and I squeeze his back, “First the werewolf is killed, then the vampire’ and finally the doppelganger. Once Elena dies, the curse will be broken. Klaus will become a hybrid.”

Stefan comes to walk next to us. His eyes go down to Elijah and I’s intertwined hands briefly before looking back up to me. When I send him a weary smile, he sends me a small one in return calming down my nerves.

“So when do we attack,” Ric asks from behind us.

“Elena’s death will activate his dormant werewolf side. He’ll be vulnerable during the transformation. That’s when Bonnie comes in.”

“And you’re sure Bonnie will survive this,” Stefan asks and I’m thankful at least one of the Salvatore brothers has a heart.

“If she can deliver him to the brink of death I’ll finish the job myself.”

Stefan and Ric nod.

“Could I talk to Elijah for a moment,” I ask the two men who share a look before nodding and moving towards the house.

Elijah turns towards me, “What is wrong, Elskan?”

“Are you going to be able to do it?”

Elijah frowns and shakes his head, “What do you mean?”

“Elijah you’re going to be killing your brother. I know siblings are a pain in the ass,” I think back to Theo and thank whatever higher being is out there that he left town this week, “but even when you hate them…you still love them. I’m not judging you for what you have to do. I’m just asking, are you ready for what you’re about to do?”

Elijah’s face is solemn as he processes what I asked, “Klaus wasn’t my only sibling,” I frown as he continues, “There once was a time when we were all together. But Klaus ruined that when he dumped their bodies in the middle of the Pacific.”

I let out a strangled gasp at Elijah’s confession. His pain evident on his face.

“Elijah…I didn’t know. Why didn’t you tell me?”

Elijah steps forward and holds the side of my face with his free hand, “You’re so good. So…pure. I didn’t want to strangle out the light you have inside you with my demons.”

“Elijah, you’re not the only one with skeletons in their closet. Trust me. But I want you to be honest with me. I need you to be. If this,” I gesture between us, “whatever this is. Is going to work. I’d never judge you. I know sometimes I can be a lot but that doesn’t mean I don’t anything but happiness for you. I don’t know what this means but you make me feel something I’d never felt with another human being.”

Elijah stares at me and something in his eyes tugs at my chest, “What is that?”

“Safe. You make me feel safe, Elijah. And I know I’m not some supernatural immortal and I can’t throw a punch to save my life. But, I want to make you feel that way too. However, I can.”

I start to get embarrassed as Elijah stares at me silently and I really wish I would’ve just kept my mouth closed.

“ᛁ ᚹᚨᛚᛚ ᛚᛟᚡᛖ ᛇᚢ ᚢᚾᛏᛁᛚ ᚦᛖ ᛋᚢᚾ ᛖᛗᛈᛚᛟᛞᛖᛋ, ᚦᛖ ᛟᚲᛖᚨᚾᛋ ᛞᚱᛁ ᚢᛈ, ᚺᚢᛗᚨᚾ ᛚᛁᚠᛖ ᚺᚨᛋ ᛚᛟᚾᚷ ᛋᛖᚾᚲᛖ ᚷᛟᚾᛖ ᚨᚾᛞ ᛁ ᚨᛗ ᚾᛟᛏᚺᛁᚾᚷ ᛒᚢᛏ ᛗᚣ ᛋᛟᚢᛚ. ᛒᚢᛏ ᛖᚡᛖᚾ ᛏᚺᛖᚾ ᛁ ᚹᛁᛚᛚ ᛋᛏᛁᛚᛚ ᛒᛖᛚᛟᚾᚷ ᛏᛟ ᚢ. ᛖᚡᛖᚱᚢᛏᚦᛁᚾᚷ ᛁ ᚨᛗ ᛁᛊ ᚢ,” Elijah says in some old language I can’t place.

“What exactly did you just say to me,” I ask, expecting the worst.

Elijah smiles and places a kiss on my temple, “I feel safe with you as well, Elskan.”

“I’m going now,” Stefan interrupts us and I move away from Elijah shocked.

The sense of warmth and peace I just had completely washed away as soon as those words left Stefan’s mouth.

“You should get inside Y/N. Bonnie needs you,” Stefan says to me making me frown. But I nod as I walk through the threshold of the house. Elijah follows me as I stand next to Ric. After a moment Bonnie and Damon walk up the basement stairs and out the front door. I frown as Ric and I follow them and Elijah squeezes my hand once more before dropping it as he passes through the threshold. Ric and I are pushed back though.

“What the hell?”

Ric yells from next to me, “Bonnie! What is this?”

Bonnie turns back towards us, “I can’t put anyone else at risk. I’m sorry.”

“You can’t do this! What if he goes after Jenna,” Ric asks angry.

“Jenna safe locked in at the Salvatore’s.”

“Damon?”

Damon sends us a look, “Sorry buddy. She’s right.”

I look to Elijah for help but from the look on his face he doesn’t seem surprised.

“You knew.”

Elijah turns to me one last time, “I meant what I said about protecting you. If I have to kill my brother to do that, I will. I’m sorry, Elskan. I will see you soon.”

I watch silently, as he turns his back on me and disappears into the woods. So much for trust.

—-

I watch as my history teacher paces in front of me. Jeremy’s unconscious body lay on the couch next to me and Elena's estranged bald father who looks like Charlie Brown watches us wearily. If you had told me I’d be in this situation a month ago I would’ve called you crazy and set up an appointment for you with my therapist mother. But here I am. Yippee.

I stand up, and both of the grown men watch me, “Just using the bathroom. Wait…Does this place even have a bathroom,” I ask but groan when I get no answer. I’m about to make my way out of the room when a piercing pain slices through my chest.

It only takes one scream from my lips before Ric is at my side. His mouth is moving but the sheer pain I’m experiencing makes it so I can’t process his words. I watch with teary eyes and sobs coming out of my mouth as Ric lifts his hand from my chest and his eyes widen. The crimson liquid coating his hand is the last thing I see before the world goes black.

—

3rd Person POV-

Bonnie screams out her spell as she crushes Klaus’s body. Fire burns around them as the once powerful Original lay in agonising pain. From the shadows, Elijah stalks towards his younger brother.

Elijah stands above him. A mask of anger covers his face as he leans down to stare at the man he once called a brother and a friend.

“Elijah?”

Klaus stares up at the man he once saw as his protector, and for the first time in centuries, Klaus feels true fear.

“Hello, brother.”

Stefan and Bonnie watch from afar as Elijah plunges his arm into his brother’s chest. Wrapping his hand around his still-beating heart.

“In the name of our family…Niklaus…”

“I didn’t bury them at sea,” Klaus’ desperate voice halts Elijah momentarily before shaking off what he believes to be a trick.

“I know about Y/n,” Those four words have Elijah pausing, “I know what she is to you. And I know she's the same to me.”

The hand that was once clenched around Klaus’ heart slacks as Elijah stares at his brother in horror.

“You’re lying,” Elijah snarls.

Klaus shakes his head, “I wish I was, brother. But I’m not. And if you kill me what do you think will happen to her. Are you really going to take that risk?”

Elijah’s once cool face breaks and turns into one of horror as he looks at his hand that is in his brother’s chest.

Stefan noticing this lapse of judgement speaks up, “Elijah, don’t listen to him.”

“Elijah,” Klaus says, “Think of her.”

“Do it and I’ll take you both out,” The Bennet witch threatens.

Elijah looks up to her, “You’ll die.”

“I don’t care.”

Stefan and Bonnie watch in horror as Elijah speeds himself and his brother out of the flames and into the night, leaving only silence and heartbreak.

—

“Why are we going to this again,” My brother asks from the hallway outside my room as I fix my black dress in my mirror. My hands freeze for a moment as they land on the spot on my chest that was bleeding just the night before.

-Flashback-

I woke with a gasp and before I could get a second to breathe I felt someone grasp my shoulders into a hug.

“You’ve really got to stop freaking me out like this,” A soft voice says into my ear.

I pull back and my eyes widen to see Elena with glossy eyes staring back at me.

I shake my head confused, “What happened? Did the ritual happen? Who died? Are you a…,” I pause before finishing my last question.

Elena sends me a smile and shakes her head, “They found another way.”

I feel a smile break out onto my face and I go to sit up to hug her but a sharp pain in my chest stops me.

“Don’t move ok. Just lay still,” Elena coaxes me back onto the coach I’m lying on.

“What happened?”

-End of Flashback-

In Elena and Ric’s spark notes version of the night, about 20 minutes after Stefan, Bonnie, and, Elijah left for the ritual I fell down to the ground in pain, screaming and yelling, and when Ric went to check on me I had blood spilling from my chest. Right above where my heart is. Ric said there was so much blood he couldn’t find where it was coming from but after holding pressure on it for another ten minutes the bleeding had stopped and when he moved his hands from my chest I had no wounds that showed I had been wounded.

Alaric told me he was surprised that I was still breathing after losing the blood that I did. He also told me that while I was unconscious he found Damon slipping me some of my blood. And if I wasn’t as sore as I was I’d have bitched him out. I’ll just put that on the back burner for now. As well as figuring out what the hell is wrong with me. Bonnie said she couldn’t feel any spells or curses on me so at least that’s a plus. I guess. Also, I haven’t seen Elijah in over a day. Honestly, I don’t know if I could face him right now anyway. I’m pissed that he betrayed us, but there’s a part of me that is happy he didn’t kill his brother. A part I’m not telling the public because right now I’m off to a funeral for Elena’s dad who did die.

Elena told me he had Bonnie do some spell that switched his life for hers. And as much as I disliked the guy, I got to give it to him he showed up in the end. RIP Charlie Brown.

“We’re going because Elena’s my friend and her dad died, Theo. Try to not be an asshole for the afternoon please,” I say as I meet my brother at the front door of our house. My mother and he came back early last night because she had to get home for some work thing. Typical. But that also means I get to be with Theo for the day and after almost dying yesterday, I realized that I wouldn’t have gotten the chance to say goodbye to him, and today could’ve been my funeral he’d be going to. A chill runs down my spine at the thought and I fight back a set of tears.

“Okay, I promise. I’m sorry,” Theo says as he notices a tear fall down my face.

I smile at my little brother and pull him into a hug.

“I knew you missed me,” I can hear the smirk in his voice as I laugh into his suit jacket.

“Ya, whatever loser let’s go.”

—

I watch with tear-filled eyes as Elena places a rose on her biological father’s grave and then walks over to her parent's matching graves and places roses on them. Theo stands next to me with a solemn expression on his face, Jeremy is next to him, Bonnie, Caroline, and Tyler stand behind us, and Jenna is on my left as she holds Ric’s hand. I turn to look over my shoulder and I catch Damon’s eye as he stands against a tree. And for the first time ever I almost swore he smiled at me. Damn, maybe he’s dying too.

—

“I’ll be in the car,” Theo says to me and begins to walk away but not before bringing Jeremy in for a bro hug. I watch as my brother safely gets to the car and then I begin to walk over to Elena but see her already crowded with our friends. My gaze goes towards Damon who stands facing the graveyard and I frown.

“I have a bone to pick with you. You can’t just go and put blood into people’s mouths while they’re-” I say as I approach him.

“I’m happy you’re ok, Y/N.”

Damon’s interruption and the sincerity in his voice make me halt as I approach him.

“Wait…I think I’m hallucinating because I could’ve sworn you just called me by my actual name,” I walk up to him and jokingly smirk, “You dying or something?”

“Tyler Lockwood bit me.”

Oh. Fuck.

Translation-

“I will love you until the sun explodes, the oceans dry up, human life has long since gone and I am nothing but my soul. But even then I will still belong to you. Everything I am is you.”

827 notes · View notes

arieswritez · 2 months ago

Text

puppy love

puppy love | yandere!mark grayson x afab!reader | MULTI-CHAP: 4

chapter 3

cw; DARK CONTENT!!! MDNI!!! MENTION OF ANIMAL DEATH, reader is neurodivergent, ableism, growing up is messy & adults suck, angst, niceguy™/slight incel mark, childhood friend/bully!mark, mark gets his powers sooner, teeny tiny implications of pseudo incest (blink and you’ll miss it), SADIST MARK, violent rape, threats of violence, & canon typical violence, so . . gore, stalking, implied murder, gender & body dysphoria, mentions/implications of disordered eating, mark teases reader about their body once, overall asshole mark, implied grooming (mark handles it but he’s a lil bitch about it later), so, victim blaming, misogyny, the inexplicable horrors of being afab, objectification, sexualization

about; [the fuckin' thought of you with somebody else, i don't like that.] . . actually, if you even consider leaving i'll lose a couple screws in due time, i'll stop breathing and you'll see the meaning of stalker when i pop out the dark to find you and that new dude that you're seeing with a attitude - IFHY (tyler the creator)

there was blood on mark's hands.

syrupy and wet.

the distinct stench of iron rot fogged up his senses.

blood clots stuck like soft gelatin between his fingers. stretching, snapping webs of gore whenever he opened and closed his hands.

still warm as he switched on the water from your sink.

the suds from your hand soap came up a copper brown, adorned by tiny rivulets of red as he dug beneath his fingernails to scrape away any remnants of viscera.

dna washed away by tap water.

his skin purified once again.

mark looked up and met the eyes in the reflection, making sure to pick off specks of skull fragment and the fatty tissue of brain matter from strands of his hair.

what a fantasy.

a blink and it's all gone.

just like you.

you and your attention.

your undying devotion. a huff and the flame gets snuffed.

better yet. . you light and pass the torch to someone fucking else.

it's no good.

there's no use being mad at you and your uninspiring devotion. how special is your love, really, if it is so easily obtained?

and why does the fact that it no longer belongs to mark so upsetting?

why'd the realization that anyone who called you pretty would have you fantasizing about baby's breath bouquets - something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue, and a sixpence in your shoe - make his blood run that much hotter?

why'd it make him stare down into the sink, faucet running, as he tried to slow down his breathing? gripping the edges of your porcelain sink until he heard it creak. counting forwards to a hundred, then back again.

he did all the things the therapist his mother took him to recommended he do when those feelings came up. things to see, smell, and touch, and taste. but the only thing that came through the ringing in his ears was the vivid fantasy of tearing your boy apart.

he could see the light leaving his eyes. he could smell the acrid stench of piss running down the coward's leg. and god knows he'd only ever touch him to dispose of his body.

and at the end, he'd taste the tears collecting at your cupid's bow when you sought comfort in his presence. just like the old days. it'd all be worth it in the end.

. . he shouldn't have read your dairy.

not because debbie raised him to 'respect privacy' - because who doesn't keep shit in their notes app in this day and age? - but because it put him in a shitty mood.

but he was also glad he did it.

it revealed what your problem was.

and mark's always been your problem solver.

mark was imaginative.

mark was smart.

mark was also patient.

surely, you'll get bored.

you'll preoccupy your mind with mundane things: how the world spins, for example. what you'll make of yourself. what people will think of you.

ouroboros: swallowing yourself whole trying to find the beginning to the end.

will you be loved? how will you be loved?

you're a glutton obsessing over not being enough in the first place. more, more, more.

you'll dizzy yourself.

come full circle, nausea and vertigo, habitually crawling back to him.

you're a distracted little thing.

you always have been.

it's in your nature.

mark tries not to be too hard on you about your romantic pursuits.

after all, you'll go after what you think you deserve.

and if that's dysfunction, then so be it.

however. . . your standards could be a little higher. had it been any other person occupying your mind. . mark wouldn't have cared.

oh, not at all.

he cares fuck all about your meaningless schoolyard crushes but the one thing that boils mark's blood is all of the abuse.

the hoops you have to jump through for the smallest shred of applause.

and really, how pathetic do you have to be? why can't you see that he's using you? as entertainment. as a pet. as a clown.

and what you don't understand is that deep down. . mark and your boy aren't all that different.

which explains why you like him so much.

mark and your boy were sharks.

your boy could smell your blood from a mile away; see the desperation in the way you sauntered past him, salivating at the thought of being the apple of his eye.

he saw you for what you were: prey.

and they saw right through your flimsy little costume of new clothing and perfumed wrists.

your boy and his group of cronies didn't laugh at your jokes because they thought you were funny. they laughed at the idea of you believing they found you entertaining.

your mediocre attempts at relevancy were funny - hilarious, even - because of how eager you were to impress them.

and the only reason why they hadn't used and discarded you like a plastic bag with warm dog shit inside of it was because they were more than happy tossing a coin into traffic, making you fetch just so they could entertain themselves watching you get hit by a bus.

but everything for your boy, right?

you and that fucking boy.

whatever it is, mark's more than willing to find a way to make all of that stop. he's devised some plans to make everything go back to the way they used to be.

it'd always been you and mark.

mark and you.

he planned to keep it that way.

and so, he was on his best behavior.

he'd let you have your boy.

he'd push down the bile that crawled up his throat whenever he imagined his hands on you. whenever he saw your face light up whenever your phone pings with a notification.

mark can be a very good actor.

he'd act as if his stares weren't deadly when you looked up and caught him looking at you. he could melt those icey eyes, the ones that glaze over in anger, and turn them into their usual warm brown.

he's on his best behavior.

attentive, even.

he's so, so interested in what you've got going on.

who are you talking to? yes you can tell me. no i won't get mad. yes. i promise. him? yeah, I remember. why didn't you tell me?

no, i'm not mad.

good for you!

no, i won't threaten him.

who do you think i am~?

mark knows better than to be outright poisonous towards you. not when there was another boy willing to stuff your pretty little head with cotton.

you are far too sensitive to hear anything that isn't a candied lie. if he plays nice, it gives him the upper-hand.

there is no need to vent to a diary when your best friend is sitting in front of you, doe eyed and innocent, the way he pretended to be when you two were twelve and his mom would check up on you in his room. or when teachers would walk past and he had to pretend he wasn't pressing the sharp point of his pencil into your thigh.

mark loves your parent(s).

they aren't that much different than you.

in fact, mark has come to find that there aren't many people that match him in terms of intelligence.

he can see why you came out the way you did. un-special, if he's feeling kind. the other word he'd like to use is not nice to call someone.

pining after approval, your parent(s) were very easy to like.

very easy to control.

"i just don't know if they've told you, yet. . it seems kinda unfair that i'll be the one to say." mark mutters under his breath, tracing shapes into the dining room table as your parent(s) sit across from him.

"mark," your parent reaches across the table, hoping to grab his hand, only for mark to pull it out of their reach. "if something's happening. . we want to know. we need to know."

"it's just that. ." mark pauses, gives a few seconds to really build the tension. "it's a bit embarrassing."

super.

he's worried about you, you see? there's a group of guys you've been chasing around in school. . and mark doesn't think they have your best interest in mind.

mark has heard. . things.

but you've gone cold on him.

he's worried you might be. .

well, he's worried you might be having sex.

with a few. .

. . all of them?

oh, who gives a shit? the more the better. and the more mark spills, plucks things out of thin air, the more petrified your parents look.

he makes sure to say it.

sex.

hisses, purrs it, whispers it like it's such a bad word.

he even wills himself to look embarrassed, averting his eyes like it's a shameful thing.

it brings him back to the day debbie caught him with some girl after a baseball game.

she had just been some random. a shiny object that called mark's attention. something he could put his dick into while he tucked his face into her neck and imagined the sounds you'd make.

his mom should've known he was already having sex. however, having been caught with his pants down and balls deep in someone wasn't necessarily the way he planned to break it to her.

he heard his mom and his dad arguing in the next room that night and, coincidentally, nolan came in and gave him 'the talk' to the best of his ability.

humans are fragile, mark.

yes, they are.

but the bruises on her were not his fault.

she was soft.

and she'd liked it.

nevertheless, your parents are not as forgiving as mark's.

they promise him it's not a big deal. that he did good. that he's good.

a good kid, a good student, a good friend.

but as soon as he's gone, he knows they are searching your room top to bottom.

he flies up to your room and peeks in through the curtains to watch them toss open closet doors, rummaging through clothing, bookbags, notebooks, whatever they can find.

and finally, your bed.

your diary with all the juicy, dirty - downright violent, jesus - fantasies mark wrote by forging your handwriting.

and your nightstand.

wherein tucked underneath your cute underwear lays a shiny pack of condoms.

at least you're being safe.

you'll never hear the end of it.

it's too good to miss and mark doesn't care if he has to wait all day for you to get home. he wants to watch your everything crash and burn.

not that he'll have to wait much, anyway.

your parent's on the phone, trying to contain red hot anger from spewing out like a backed up volcano, hissing at you to get home, now.

you poor thing.

you poor, poor, thing.

you don't know what to tell them when they toss the pack of condoms at your feet.

when they shove the journal in your face, showing you all the depraved things you wrote in that cute little scrawl.

the boys, the nights out in which you claimed to be at mark's: helping him out with a project.

yeah, right, stop lying, already!

"give me your phone. now."

fingers feverishly tapping and swiping, going through texts as tears stream down your flushed face.

you've got a date tonight.

and you hadn't told your parent(s).

what a coincidence, oh my!

your boy must've planned to seal the deal that night. and mark would be damned if he didn't have you first.

mark doesn't need to worry.

that's definitely not happening now, is it?

in fact, you won't be able to go anywhere that isn't class for the rest of the school year. not unless you're monitored by mark. and isn't it embarrassing, mark having to be some sort of guardian?

"I thought you were smarter than this."

and you're too good to yell back.

you're too good to argue and try to explain that it wasn't you.

you didn't buy condoms. you didn't write that. you didn't do anything.

but if it wasn't you, who was it?

who did?

you look every bit of a cornered animal. it's very you: to freeze in situations like that. back to the door, facing the window just enough for mark to be able to peek at every emotion going past your face through the crack of your curtains.

he watches it flicker past your eyes, the way the muscles in your neck tense up when you squeak out those ugly, strangled, sniffed out cries. the ones you try to hold back when you're crying alone in your room and you want no one else to hear them.

the ones you'd let out at your desk when you were itty bitty and your parent had dropped you off at kindergarten, promising you they'd be right back, but they never were.

you are so much like the way you used to be.

mark wishes things hadn't changed.

he wishes you were just as innocent, as good. he wishes no one would've turned you into what you are now.

he wishes you wouldn't have been stupid enough to let them.

you don't say anything.

you don't even push past your parent when they're done berating you, just stare down at the floor until their mouth has dried, and they shoulder check past you.

you only slowly turn to push the door closed, grab your computer and send a message to the only person you think you can confide in.

he arrives in ten minutes.

enough to make it believable, climb up a tree and sneak into your room.

you fall into his arms immediately, sobbing.

mark hopes you don't feel him smiling against your shoulder as he comforts you.

your boy has been different since the last time you talked to him. distant, distracted. different. you catch him zoning out whenever the two of you are studying in the library, not reciprocating when you try to play footsies with him.

you're not sure if it has to do with the night you had to cancel your date. sure, it was last minute but he'd told you that it was okay. but with everything going on at home, you don't have the patience to hear him lie.

"seriously, what's up?" you ask, kicking his shoe softly.

your boy looks up at you.

his eyes used to gleam with confidence. the type of cockiness that'd make your cheeks burn and butterflies flutter like mad in your stomach. but they looked empty then. he looked like he hadn't slept well. that night or the one before.

he looked around, making sure no one was within earshot. you leaned forward in response, your curiosity peaked.

"this is going to sound weird but. . do you ever get the feeling that you're being watched?"

you blinked.

"uh. . hm. ."

come to think of it. . sometimes you did. you've been sensitive to eyes on you since you can remember. the hyper vigilance is something you've grown accustomed to, making peace with the fact that it might not be a curse after all, and instead some sort of safety feature.

but it felt different.

not like the irrational tickle in your stomach whenever you think of a possibility. but the speckling feeling across your skin, crawling with a million legs, the kind that makes you hallucinate a breath against your neck. the type that has your head rolling, looking for an intruder.

nothing.

but you didn't tell your boy.

because your boy was talking about himself and you've learned to insert yourself into it could be rude.

you settle with saying, "what do you mean?"

he shrugged a shoulder. "i dunno. watched. I get that sometimes. see something from the corner of my eye. and when I turn to look it's gone."

you felt your heart pick up speed. strange. the same thing had been happening to you.

you let out a nervous laugh. "if you're saying this to scare me I'm gonna get really mad, y'know?"

"i'm serious." he said, almost urgently. "and here's this: i was walking to my car after baseball practice and found some weird red shit smeared across my windshield."

he's fucking with you.

surely, he is.

this must have something to do with the rumour circulating around school. the one in which they've seen a figure whizzing past. the one in which that figure is the reason in which some animal carcasses have been found in the baseball field, mutilated like some sort of fucked up science experiment. a villain that's found a hobby in terrorizing the town, perhaps.

"it's probably nothing." you whisper, unsure if you're trying to convince him or yourself.

"probably." he responds.

he doesn't look convinced.

and he doesn't reciprocate when you try, again, to get his attention.

your boy was gone.

gone, gone, gone.

word around the school was that he'd transfered.

but that started to feel suspicious when the students noticed the smell.

something easy to dismiss at first.

the kind of funk attributed to warm weather and not enough deodorant. growing boys and their scattered hormones.

and then it grew.

bold, loud.

ugly enough that it couldn't be ignored.

sour.

downright rancid.

and it was all coming from your boy's locker.

it got so bad a janitor had to pry his locker open.

and that's where they found a decomposed animal, tire marks through the middle of the delicate body. maggots swarming in the orifice where the eyes used to be.

you don't remember when the last time you saw him was.

you don't know if you ever will.

with his past time of mutilating animals and collecting roadkill, you're not sure you even want to.

and if you did, the only thing you'd ask is why?

mark seemed the least surprised about it.

he hadn't so much as grimaced as he told you the story of his locker being pried open.

the stench was the worst thing, apparently.

although, it wasn't enough to deter his appetite as he popped grapes between his fingers, making sure to squirt the juice onto you as he described fat, wriggling maggots falling off in swarming little balls off of the carcass.

you shiver, skin crawling, staring at the pile of homework before mark.

now that your boy had vanished into thin air, his entourage wanted nothing to do with you. you figured it was only normal. you were all preparing for finals, applying for college, planning ahead.

still, it hurt.

it hurt to think you almost had it, almost had him, but it was all taken away. you're not sure why you feel that way, but you do.

and the only thing keeping you afloat is the fact that you've found your way back to mark.

it reminds you, he'll always be there for you.

no matter what.

it's nice, you think.

spending time with your best friend.

even if it means doing mark's work again.

CHAPTER 5

#mark grayson x reader #alternate mark grayson x reader #mark grayson #invincible #invincible x reader #yandere mark grayson #yandere mark grayson x reader #bpd king #he just like me #srry for my disappearance #i was going insane #it will happen again #sinister mark #sinister mark x reader #invincible variants

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