#can't really decide if i think it's better or worse at night or in the daytime. maybe it's easier to bounce back from in the day

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

haven't had to make one of these for a while...

um okay anyways i'm not doing too hot mentally today!! so i'm gonna take a break for tonight and ask that you please send me Foul Legacy asks (or Arlecchino. honestly i'll take anything at this point) because lord knows i sort of need them

[burningcomputerpersona]

second night of not being able to fall asleep since the new semester started. now im remembering why i stopped taking my adhd meds

[evieelyzabethh]

"lacy"

⭒"i see you everywhere, the sweetest torture one could bear"⭒ Arcane characters when jealous {fem reader}

cast ✧ Vi, Ekko, Jayce, Viktor, Mel

cw ☞ slight angst but they all have a happy ending, kissing, and the usual stuff (slightly pervy Jayce)

♞Vi♞

♞Making Vi jealous is a terrible game. She is about that action and absolutely loves to fight, nothing beats that flow of adrenaline as she chases someone down to bash their face in. I feel like she would also get a bit mean. Jealousy is a nasty thing, it bites, and she bites back harder. The pit it creates in her stomach tries to swallow her whole and sometimes she wants to bring you down with her

♞She doesn't understand why you would want or need the attention of anyone else when you have her. Chiefly at the beginning of your relationship, it would cause a rift, intention or not. Vi doesn't have a proper education, she’s constantly guilt ridden about her childhood and her sister, she's broke, and an absolute hot mess. She's already constantly questioning why you're with her in the first place and the last thing she needs is some random coming up and flirting with you and you even bothering to dignify their presence with a response.

♞She would go dead silent, brushing you off for what feels like weeks, stewing in her increasingly negative thoughts. She doesn't even think you're cheating, but she feels like it's only a moment of time before you realize there's something better out there. Always the one to make the wrong decision, she pushes you away for a bit. She's very short with you, brushing off your attempts to make peace, playing a mean game to see if you're gonna give up on her so she can use it against you. This is definitely her biggest red flag.

It's dark and rainy out, rain pelting at the ground, seeping and sliding into its cracks to rehydrate the already soft foundation. It was supposed to be a calm night out at the Last Drop involving a few drinks to get Vi out of her current terrible mood, bookended by an unstable walk home as you both barely support each other under your weight and constant fit of giggles. Instead, Vi was a few paces ahead of you, hands shoved into her pockets, her head down rather than putting her hood up to keep her head dry from the rain. Every time you approach her, she slightly leans away. At first you thought it was an accident, maybe she was trying to avoid stepping on a rock or into a puddle, but after the umpteenth time it happens, the message becomes clear. She's avoiding you. As argumentative as she is, you may even be worse. "What the fuck is your, problem?", you bark, the alcohol in your veins curving the embarrassment of passersby clearly tuning into the argument they think is about to break out. "You've said some choice things and have been awfully rude these past few days, and I really don't appreciate it, Violet." But she doesn't have it in her to make a big scene. It's definitely the alcohol, because she's genuinely scared that if she starts a screaming match with you right now, she'll cry. She turns to you swiftly, hair dripping wet, stray dye rolling down her cheeks and down the slope of her nose. You had just dyed it together a few days ago, back before she decided to be mad at you for who knows what reason. "Look at me", she grabs your chin before you even get the chance to break eye contact with her. Petty, pissed, and unable to jerk your face out of her grip without giving yourself whiplash, you close your eyes. This pisses her off even more. "What, you don't have any more charity work left in you? You can giggle with what-his-face for hours, but you can't even look at your girlfriend?" That gets you to open your eyes, at first confused as to what the hell she was talking about then glittering with amusement that causes her to immediately let go and continue her fast paced walk back home. She isn't far enough to escape your light voice, cheery with the realization that you finally broke her down and occupied with what you think is the silliest thing in the world. "Oh, my gods, you're jealous about that guy from last night! Vi, you're so ridiculous, I don't even remember his name." And she is still teeming with anger, but that anger will dissipate soon after that last admission. Once you sober up, you don't find it as funny, but she's at your every beck and call trying to convince you it won't happen again.

♞After a little while together, she feels more stable in the relationship. Trust, she still gets jealous, but it usually looks like a smirk on her face before she pulls you into a heated kiss in front of whoever is bothering her. She makes a real show of it too, prying open your mouth to slip her tongue inside, her hands squeezing your sides and hiking up your dress, knee pressed firmly in between your legs. She continues long after the person leaves, before shrugging and sarcastically wondering where they possibly could've gone off to. You often scold her for this. You've never been to jail, and you'd hate to go for a public indecency charge.

★Ekko★

★Ekko doesn't really get jealous, like out of everyone I think he would get the least jealous so most of this section would be about his complete lack of jealousy. He doesn't believe in getting into relationships without trust first and it's because of this confident trust that he wouldn't get jealous. If anything, he wouldn't be jealous as in feeling like your relationship was in danger but jealous when it comes to your time. Like he would get slightly pouty if he felt like you were spending too much time with your friends, and it was significantly cutting out of your time together. Even then, he wouldn't really act on it.

★Ekko would be a "I don't care what my girlfriend wears, I can fight" kinda guy. Especially because he likes picking out your outfits, he does it with the intention of showing off the goods. He likes looking at you, he knows the world likes looking at you, he sees it as doing a favor to society. He is the first to tell you your tits look scrumptious in that top.

★Same concept with you being approached or flirted with. If they have the gall to do it in his direct presence, he has a great many words to say about it, but if he's watching it go down, he likes to watch it happen. He'll get involved as soon as he gets the feeling you are uncomfortable, but for the most part he sits amused a few feet away laughing at the glances you give him as the conversation goes on.

★I feel like if anyone was to get jealous, it would be you. Ekko spends a lot of time with a lot of different people which leaves space for certain people to not know that he's spoken for. I think he would be less aware of this than you. You are always at the forefront of his mind; he cannot fathom giving his attention to other people. Especially because he talks about you so often, he makes it quite clear that he is not single and when people choose to ignore that fact, he doesn't notice.

Warm light flitters into your shared room through half open blinds that reveal the orange and yellow that the blue sky had faded into. Ekko had just gotten home eager to strip down into some old, tattered tee shirt and some boxer shirts. Instead, he was met with a slightly agitated girlfriend, and he notices this immediately. He gives you space at first, greeting you at the door and asking you how you were and listening to your expectedly short answer. He only lasts a few minutes of this passive aggression before sliding beside you on the couch, sliding his arm around you and pulling you in close. You reluctantly lean in, trying to ignore how inviting he smells and how warm he feels. "Baby," he draws out, scooping you completely into his arms to straddling your thighs over his waist, his large palms remaining on your upper thigh. He's trying to whittle down your resolve and it is working. "Don't you wanna tell me what's wrong?" You rolled your eyes. "I've already told you what's wrong." He thinks it's cute that you're jealous. He likes the way your arms cross over your puffed chest, and you furrow your brow to try and appear serious but all you look like to him is a rabbit about to thump its foot. "And I have already told you, I am completely yours." It's cheesy and he knows it and he amps it up by scattering kiss all over your face, even as you try to evade his touch. "I don't doubt that, it's just..." He derails your sentences as his kisses move lower and his hands get more adventurous, exploring your upper thigh and the curve of your ass and the small of your back from underneath your shirt. "Hey!", you snap, "I'm being serious, Ekko." He pauses, withdrawing his hands to the fat of your hips and, reluctantly, his lips from your neck. "I'm listening, baby." "I've told you I don't know how many times that I do not like that girl. She is all over you." His mouth opens to try and protest, but you cut him off. "I can literally smell her perfume on you." He gets slightly defensive at this. "You don't think I'm cheating on you, do you?" A look of hurt flashes across his eyes. "Of course, I don't, Ekko. I'm not questioning you; I'm questioning her. I know she knows we're together and she just doesn't care, and you don't shut it down. Why else do you think she kept you out this late? What were you two doing?" Nothing. A whole lot of nothing, actually. The girl you were referring to, Thalara, had been a topic of conversation before. She was new to the commune, which landed her the benefit of the doubt with you, but it's been months now and she still hasn't laid off. Ekko, ever trusting of his people, never assumed malintent, but you saw right through her. You cup his head in between your hands, looking him in his eyes to make sure that the message is clear. "I love you, and I'm not mad at you, but she's pissing me off. You need to make it very clear that she needs to leave you alone or I will send the message for you." And you meant that. He makes it very clear to her the next day that he has absolutely no interest and comes back to you the next day beaming in accomplishment.

★Jealous you turns him on so incredibly much. Whatever you say goes, he is not one to turn you down when you're in a jealous mood.

❂Jayce❂

❂I feel like you would both get jealous, but he would get far more jealous than you do. While he is far from someone who would tell you to change what you're wearing, he does try and tag along with you when you're wearing something low cut. Like babe, what do you mean you don't want him to join girls night? Are you sure you're not cold?? You must be cold; your ass is hanging out, why won't you take his jacket?? Please take his jacket!!! Because of this he walks behind you, making it much harder for those undeserving to stare at you like he does.

���While he loves showing you off at fancy events, ain't shit funny if you look too good. If you're lucky enough to make it out the house on time (he insists on helping you zip up but then gets confused which way zippers go), being there is a struggle. He likes staring at you and did not have the forethought to think other people would enjoy staring at you too. Let someone make a comment too, he is glued to your hip for the rest of the night.

He waits anxiously for the stupid gala to be over. Had he been more of a drinker, he would've been content to have a few glasses of the fancy champagne they brought around, but he hates the ethanol aftertaste it leaves behind and that is the last thing he needed after already feeling nauseous. He was trying so hard for you, he knew he had to give you your space, and he knew you were excited to go out to his Hextech showcase to show your support. He's being bitter and he hates it, he hates biting his tongue while watching you giggle with a councilman and the fact that he feels like a petulant child watching some other kid play with his toy He's been getting better with his jealousy, honest! That's why he's self-aware enough to know that his urge to go after you, sling you over his shoulder, and carry you home himself is childsh and silly and that you would chastise him over it as he looked at you like a kicked puppy. Gods, this was stupid. But he puts a smile on his face anyway, making his way over to you from the balcony he was just standing on, and sliding his hand on your shoulder. You look over at him, startled for a second, but relax when you see his amber eyes and slightly gapped smile. And then you say the magic words. "Oh, I was just about to go looking for you. Are you ready to go?" He cannot say yes fast enough. After he has you all to himself, he is insatiable, kissing you deeply as soon as you step foot in the carriage taking you home, losing balance and nearly sending you both toppling onto the floor of the moving vehicle. The seats are awkward and not long enough to properly lay you down, but he's too desperate to care about the discomfort, his hand cradling the back of your neck to make sure you are as comfortable as you can be. He's ruthless, the force of his kisses knocking the breath out of you and you can never catch up. You're almost dizzy, his desperate whispers nearly going through one ear and out the other. "You love me, right? Me and only me? You don't need anyone else.", and he's trying to find your zipper again, but his hands are clumsy and cold, and it only serves to arch your back further into him, not that he's complaining. When you do come to your senses, you giggle, running your nails through his hair as he looks up at you with wide eyes. "How long have you been holding that in." He looks at you sheepishly, fighting the urge to hide his embarrassment in the crook of your neck. "All night." You shake your head at his ridiculousness, pulling him in for a slower kiss, properly savoring the moment, before pulled away to peck his nose. "You are the only one for me, handsome, I don't know how many times I have to say it." He shrugs his broad shoulders. "A few more times wouldn't hurt." You roll your eyes and ask if he wants a collar, and he does not look as adverse as you expected.

❂He is so incredibly unhinged when it comes to jealousy. He doesn't act on it, but his mind goes to wild places. In a modern AU, if you dare not reply to a text in ten minutes he's asking, "What position he got you in?" Even worse, he knows he's being senseless, it's his way of asking for reassurance in a joking way. It's so absurd, you don't take him seriously which slightly frustrates him because he wants you to reaffirm him on what he already knows.

❂He gets really pouty when jealous too. He'll usually try and thrust himself into his work to occupy his mind and get it back to a rational place. Viktor calls you immediately because he ends up talking to him about it and he thinks the entire ordeal is unreasonable and doesn't have time to be asked at the ass crack of dawn "I know she loves me, but what if (insert insane scenario here)." He is a chronic overthinker and sometimes you just have to shut his brain off.

☽Viktor☾

☽Viktor is another one who doesn't get super jealous, but when he does, it usually stems from insecurities surrounding his leg. It doesn't happen often, but sometimes, especially as his condition gets worse, he gets frustrated that he can't do the things as easy as he used to be able to. However, he is entirely too proud to admit it or act on it. You probably wouldn't even notice, to be honest, and he wouldn't want you to.

☽I think he would absolutely throw himself into work when jealous. He's already at the lab damn near day and night, but unlike usual when he'll try for conversation here and there and be more lively, he's throwing himself into it out of necessity. It is one of his pride and joys, when his ego takes a hit, work is his refuge. This, of course, hardly ever works because he does not get good work done when it's being forced. He'll usually end up staring at the photo he keeps of you at your desk and feel lonely.

☽He'll invite you around to his lab more, though he is uncharacteristically stiff and rigid. He's trying too hard to focus but he just can't. His leg is tapping furiously beneath the table, he's biting the inside of his cheek, his hand is running through his hair every couple minutes. Things just aren't computing like how he wants them to and he hates it. His pride is a double-edged sword here, jealously is Jayce's thing. He thinks he is leagues above it and he gets frustrated with himself when he feels that green sickness in his heart.

☽He would be the type to address it head on. Once again, he's very analytical. He will tell you what exactly got him upset, why exactly it upset him, be very clear that he isn't blaming or upset at you, and silently hope you go overboard with affection for the next few weeks for the sake of his ego. After he does, he likes to ignore it even happened. Him? Jealous? You must have him confused with another ridiculously attractive, impaired, Czech-accented man. Jealous isn't even in his very extensive vocabulary, he has no idea when or why you dreamed of this completely fictitious scenario. He wouldn't try and gaslight you that it never happened, but he is petty enough to get selective hearing when it comes to mentions of it

For the first time since...ever, Viktor is home before the sun goes down. To say it catches you off guard is an understatement, so unused to the doorknob jiggling before the wee hours of the morning, you had a knife in your hand before you heard his keys in the door. You had been making dinner, and the smell alone makes his heart skip a beat. He hardly ever gets a warm dinner and for a minute, he deeply regrets being in his lab all the time. He slides off his shoes and loosens his tie as he pads over to you in the kitchen, wrapping one hand around your waist and the other gripping the counter for support. "You're home early.", you chirp, turning around to face him to peck his lips. "I was just making dinner, you want a taste?" Though he would never say no to that, you already have the spoon to his lips with a hand under to catch anything that might fall before he can even answer. He indulges, of course, and as the warm liquid soothes his throat, he hates that lab even more. Soup is one thing; but warm soup is to die for. "It's delicious, tchotchke." You smile as you turn back around. "Any reason you're home so early." He looks back the new ceiling fan you called Jayce over to put up and lets out a sardonic chuckle. He understands why you called him; he'd need to get on a ladder to put it up and have to abandon his cane for however long it took to hold the thing up and take care of the wiring. He wouldn't be able to balance himself and if he came down, the fan was coming down with him, probably on top of him. And yet, he still would've rather done it himself than you call Jayce to do it. "Yes, but it's admittedly a very stupid reason." You cannot fathom this. You remove the pot from the stove and onto a folded cloth on your counter and desert the stove. "Did something happen?" And he can't handle the look of concern on your face over something he knows to be trivial. "It's just that..." when he realizes he can't put it off any longer, he sighs. "I got jealous of Jayce." Had it not been for the serious look on your face, you would've burst into laughter. Those words had never fallen out of his mouth in that order before. "I know it's absurd, but it started when he put the fan up and it bothered me more than it should. I don't like that there are some things I can't do around the house, and it's been this way my whole life, but it's different with him. He's just always "the guy" and I hate the thought of him being "the guy" to you. It's irrational and a leap in logic, I know, but I hate it." And even better than pity, you just smile at him. In a way it's better that you want to laugh at him, he wants to laugh at him too. The thought of Jayce replacing him is maybe even more of an impossibility for you than it is for him. "So, next time I should just call a guy." He chuckles. "Yes, please."

☼Mel☼

☼I feel like she would be very calm about her jealousy, but also have a slight inclination to anger, albeit a silent one. She doesn't fear the betrayal of a potential cheating, but rather the embarrassment. If she were to see you get too chummy with someone, rather than approach you, she would watch from afar to see what you'd do. This is also a big reason why she usually doesn't take action herself; you never disappoint her when it comes to letting people know you're taken.

☼She is a bit clingier when jealous, but more than that she would insist on doing more couple things together. If she feels it is not known enough, she will make it known that the two of you are together. This often means gifts like expensive jewelry that only she could afford you, a new outfit that conveniently matches with one of hers, or even just letting you borrow bags or earrings of hers. It's her way of scenting you almost. She's too classy to try and "stake her claim" in a more showy way, so she does it in a more inconspicuous way.

Waking up alone wasn't something you were completely unused to. Mel was a very busy woman, and you were content with the nights you had together and rare mornings. These mornings were made extra bearable when you woke to a box on your nightstand, wrapped in a silk ribbon with a note in your girlfriend's handwriting slipped under the bow. 'From my heart, to my darling', it read, a lipstick mark beneath where she had signed her name with an elegant flick of her wrist. Perhaps just as eager to be opened as you were to open it, the ribbon fell loose as you gently picked up the box. It was too small to be a dress and too large to be a ring but large enough to contain maybe a fancy watch or a necklace, but judging by her unusually clingy demeanor last night, you had a feeling you could pretty accurately guess what was inside the ornate jewelry box. Unsurprisingly, within it lay a gold and pearl necklace, pearls that must’ve been rare due to their black hue rather than their usually pale pearlescent coloring.  The chain felt light in your hand, the heaviest part sinking into your palm as you stared at. Your first initial and an M. No matter which way it was taken, the M to be her first name or her last, the possessive message was clear, not that you minded. Mels smile was bright when she saw you for the first time that day, and even brighter when she saw what decorated your neck. She excused herself from the councilmember she was talking to before walking over to you, practically gliding on air. She takes your hand, kissing the inside of your wrist then your knuckles then pulls you by your hand into her. "I take it you're enjoying your gift?" Your hand still in hers, she spins you, taking you in at all angles for the first time that day. "It's beautiful, but I can't help but wonder what inspired the decision." She knows you know exactly how she works, and she doesn't mind admitting she's jealous. "Am I wrong to give my pretty girl a gift?", she says, mocking the comment you received last night. She rolls her eyes and her face gives away her impending rant. "Am I wrong to give a pretty girl a compliment? I still can't believe he said that to you last night. He only did it to piss me off, you know." You bite your lip to hide your laughter, but it eventually slips from you. "I hope I'm more entertaining than Salo was last night." She can't even feign annoyance, not with the sound of your laughter filling her ears and her name around your neck. She laughs herself, with how much the two of you talk shit about the man, you'd think anything he did could never affect her, but she had been biting her tongue since last night. "Shall I list to you all the ways you're better than Salo?" She waves the idea off nonchalantly. "No, my darling, I should hope I never need an ego boost that desperately."

☼You would definitely get jealous far more often than she does. She's gorgeous, smart, well spoken, rich and affluent, and perfection embodied in a person, there is much to be jealous of. Especially as someone who is on the council where part of the job is being great at sweet talk, I feel like you would get your feelings hurt sometimes. You catch more flies with honey, and she may be the sweetest honey there is. She does tease you for your jealousy though, she finds it utterly adorable.

☼She wouldn't allow you to be jealous long. She is very good at reading you and your emotions, she seems to always know exactly how you're feeling. You couldn't even hide it from her if you tried, she'll always find a way to corner you and help you talk your feelings through. She tries very hard to make sure that you can never question who she loves the most.  

[jinwoosbabyboo]

𝙽𝚘 𝙽𝚞𝚝 𝙽𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛

How I headcanon the lads men participating in NNN A/N: ‼️MDNI‼️ me personally I'm teasing them all month because why not :) [Requested by: Anon]

𝚉𝚊𝚢𝚗𝚎

[Succeeded Just Barely]

questions you endlessly about what NNN is and where you even heard of it

starts listing all the pros and cons of this kind of challenge “Are you going to participate or not?” “I have self-control I'll do it”

He really did end up having an insane amount of self-control

you end up being the one who wants him to break

he was on track to make it the entire month allowing you to either ride his fingers or his tongue to satisfy you but you wanted more

ended up pulling that one wicked card of sitting on his lap and putting your boobs in his face and thats how you almost got him

“you have an unfair advantage, but I will restrain myself”

you tried to make him break on the last day and he did and you literally got railed in his office and he nutted after midnight so your plan failed

don’t worry the door was locked he’s not that risky

"I can't believe you actually did it" "working overtime helped"

𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚊𝚢𝚎𝚕

[Failed November 12th]

wasn't going to do it at first but you teased him into agreeing

Is overconfident to start

wants you more now knowing he can’t have you

anything you do he thinks you’re tempting him

“You’re trying to sabotage me!” “Im just grabbing a bowl??”

convinced himself this is what true torture is

constantly taking cold showers to calm himself down

keeps going back and forth between wanting you to leave and wanting you with him at all times

“I can’t do this” he would pull you on top of him tell you how dumb this challenge was

ends up almost creaming his pants just having you on top of him

takes you on every surface he can find and falls asleep still inside you

𝚇𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚎𝚛

[Failed November 5th]

Already failed unintentionally on the 1st

Kept you up all night on Halloween which bled into November 1st

“We won’t count that so do you want to try it” “I guess”

suffering from day one "I don't like this" "It would help if you stop putting your hands all over me" "That sounds like torture"

Is willing to try but ends up not even lasting a week

tries to find ways around the rules

Started out by him saying “I just want to make you cum” creamed his pants by just eating you out

Asks you to never make him try that again unless you plan on leaving him for a month which is even worse

proceeds to give you a repeat of halloween night after making him wait for almost a week

𝚂𝚢𝚕𝚞𝚜

[Failed November 23rd]

He’s one to honor a bet so now you’re the one suffering

“Are you participating as well?” “Sure why not I know you’ll break first”

He wants you to crack first

Starts wearing everything he knows turns you on

“Restrain yourself until December sweetie”

Acts oblivious to what he’s doing

two weeks in he is finding EVERY LOOPHOLE POSSIBLE

could have made the whole month, but you two decided to edge each other by that third week

“You said and I quote ‘No Nut November’ I only edged you sweetie you haven’t lost yet”

Massages you, constantly kissing and nibbling on your neck, goes as far as to play with it or eat you out until you’re right on the edge then stops

It ends up being an edging game between the two of you and you break at the same time and he’s turning you every which way, but loose not stopping until the bed is bent

“I’ll make better rules next year” “We’re not participating next year”

[amazinglyashy]

Hi hi I just found your blog like an hour ago and I’ve been scrolling and am obsessed with the way you write for the l&ds!! ❤️❤️ if you don’t mind I love a little angst and was wondering if you could write the boys reacting to MC showing up at their doorstep heavily injured from like a fight with a wanderer.

Oh my gosh thank you!!! And I don't mind at all, my friends make fun of me for how much I enjoy hurt/comfort and angst :'D Thank you for the request!

LaDS men react to you appearing on their doorstep, injured and bleeding

Xavier -

If you end up at his door, it's more than likely because your unconscious decided to hit the button for his floor rather than your own. You just wanted to get home, not bother anyone, but he's stood right there. Having just come home from grabbing a late night snack from a nearby convenience store, you stumbled out of the elevator right as he's unlocking his front door.

He drops his keys and his bag.

It's a good thing too, because your legs gave out right then, so it's much better for him to catch you if his arms are free.

He's calling your name, and while you're still conscious, you're not really processing anything anymore. You're in too much shock, and you've lost too much blood by now.

He'll get the door unlocked and rush you inside his apartment, setting you down on his couch as he runs for a first aid kit, calling the association for emergency services while he does so.

"You're going to be okay. I promise. Just continue to breathe, alright?"

Xavier doesn't know if he's saying that to comfort you or himself, but he also isn't stopping to think about it, as he rapidly administers first aid to your wounds to at least slow the bleeding until help can arrive.

It's three in the morning but he's wide awake sitting next to your bed at the hospital, something unnatural for someone so sleep deprived usually.

He can't bring himself to shut his eyes though.

It's not work the risk.

Not until you wake up first.

Zayne -

It's like his brain splits into two the moment that he sees you standing there.

One side is his medical knowledge rushing forward as he moves to catch you as your feet stumble beneath you, trying to impossibly assess the extent of the damage before even getting to see it all. It's the half that's taking you to his kitchen table, because it's the easiest workspace for him right now. The one that's pulling out his doctor's bag from the closet in the hall, and the first aid kit from the cupboard in the kitchen as he cuts your shirt open.

The other side?

Oh honey, his heart is breaking.

If you think there's a day at work where he doesn't pray to any existent or nonexistent god that he doesn't see you today, spread out on a gurney or operating table without warning due to your unconscious state, then you'd be painfully wrong.

It's amazing how well he works while panicking on the inside, his skilled hands patching your wounds after meticulous sterilization, any sutures needed placed perfectly even through your pained groans tugging at his heart.

He knows he needs to get you to the hospital, even though he's taken good care of you in his own home. But he needs to sink to the floor for a minute, his back dragging against the wall as he heaves a deep sigh. It's a heavy toll feeling the stick of the dried blood on his hands- your blood on his hands.

With all his knowledge, he knows you'll be okay. He knows he himself will be okay. But right now-

He's not.

Sylus -

The N109 zone is beyond dangerous, mostly due to the criminals and leeches lurking in the dark shadows, but there's also no shortage of Wanderers, including ones that have been genetically altered to be even worse than they normally were.

So when Sylus sees you stumbling at his doorstep, bloodied hand reaching for the knob as he glances at the camera feed, he's not sure he could say he's ever moved so fast in his life otherwise. "Sweetie-" He breathes, as he catches you, scooping you up and rushing you inside as quickly as he possibly can without aggravating your already extensive injuries.

Luke is already running for first aid, and Kieran is already contacting the doctor. Mephisto is shrieking in the hall as he follows Sylus to his bedroom, protesting the fact that Sylus had needed him for surveillance of a target today instead of watching you.

Sylus knows.

He knows this is his fault.

If he had had someone keeping an eye on you, this wouldn't have happened.

His eyes are glued to your barely conscious form in his arms, the guilt in the recesses of his heart digging deeper with every slather of red that painted your skin.

Sorry to say, you're going to have your work cut out for you when you wake up. It's going to take a lot of heavy lifting on your part to convince him that he's not at fault for what happened to you.

And you will be waking up.

Sylus will make sure of that.

Rafayel -

Don't make his nightmares a reality.

Not again.

He's catching you before you can even begin to sway, and he'll be lucky if he remembers to shut the door behind him, his body melding against yours as he picks you up and runs down to his car.

"No, no no no. You stay awake, cutie."

He's definitely breaking at least a dozen laws just trying to get you to Akso hospital as quickly as he can. His mind is racing as fast as his car is moving down the streets, wondering what could have happened to you, what he should be doing right now, if he should have administered first aid to you before taking off-

But he's there so fast, it would have been nearly identical on the clock regardless of him still choosing to rush you to the hospital, or run to get and administer first aid for you from within his home.

He's there until you wake up- wide awake no matter how long it takes. It could be minutes, hours, days- he can't sleep. The image of you dying before him- the image of you standing on his doorstep as well- etched on the back of his eyelids every time he tried to close his eyes.

He talks to you even when you're not awake, stroking your hand, your cheek, the side of your neck- trying to make sure you're as comfortable as he can make you.

When you wake up again, he has to hold himself back with everything in him from squeezing you too tightly. He doesn't want to burst your stitches or harm you, but his body and arms are all-encompassing on you as he hugs you firmly, his face buried in the crook of your neck.

He really doesn't need you to see him cry.

[fear-less]

₊˚⊹˚ 𐙚 she ignored my letter!

pairing: james potter x f!reader

➥ In which, James writes you a love letter and hides it into your luggage carrying your clothes, not knowing he put it in a pocket you never open.

Warnings: angst, fluff, james pov, this inspired by awae (aka the best show ever)

a/n: heyyy... i had sm fun writing this, can't wait to write the rest of this bc i literally LOVE anne with an e and this is inspired by it ofc!!!! anyways, im barely writing now..smh, its cause im reading manacled and its literally heart breaking... im also editing on ae and its so hard so im slowly learning😭 but i want to finish this mini series by next week!!

series masterlist ! - divider creds: i-mmaculatus & dollywons

James had liked you for a while now. He wasn’t quite sure when it started—maybe it was the way you laughed at his jokes, always the loudest in the room. Or perhaps it was when he’d catch you staring at him, your gaze lingering just a bit too long, thinking he was too distracted to notice.

With the Christmas holidays fast approaching, James knew he had to make a move. He had to let you know how he felt. If you didn’t feel the same, maybe the time apart over the holiday would make it less awkward. But he couldn’t let another term slip by in silence.

Knowing your love for all things old-fashioned, James decided there was no better way to confess his feelings than through a handwritten letter. It felt personal, genuine—something you’d appreciate. But writing it turned out to be harder than he imagined.

He’d written and discarded at least a dozen drafts, each one crumpled and tossed aside in frustration. Finally, after half an hour of agonizing over the perfect words, he settled on this version. It was short, straightforward, and sincere:

Dear, (Y/N)

I don’t know how to say this without sounding like a complete idiot. I’ve tried a hundred times, and every single attempt has been worse than the last. So here’s the truth—I’m hopelessly in love with you.

You’ve probably guessed I’m not great at being subtle. But what I’ve never been able to say outright is how much you mean to me. The way you laugh, the way your nose scrunches when you’re concentrating—Merlin, you make it impossible to focus on anything else. I want you to know that you’ve made me braver, happier, better. If you don’t feel the same, that’s okay—I just needed to get this off my chest.

Yours, James

He sighed deeply, folding the letter carefully before slipping it into an envelope. Your name was written on the front in his slightly shaky handwriting. Taking a steadying breath, he tucked it into the inside pocket of his robes. He’d leave it somewhere you’d find it tomorrow, just before you both left for the holidays.

As he lay awake that night, James tried to figure out the best way to deliver the letter. Should he hand it to you directly? No, that was too nerve-wracking—he’d probably end up babbling like an idiot. Maybe he could slip it into your bag and avoid the risk of witnessing your reaction.

The morning was crisp, the kind of cold that painted your cheeks red and sent little clouds of breath swirling in the air. On the platform, the train sat waiting, puffing out plumes of steam that mingled with the frosty air. It was alive with the sound of students saying goodbye and dragging their luggage over the cobblestones.

James walked beside you, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. He was doing his best to appear casual, though every step he took felt heavier with the weight of the letter in his robe.

“Let me take that for you,” he blurted suddenly, nodding toward your luggage.

You blinked, surprised by the offer, but your lips curved into a warm smile. “Oh, thanks, James. That’s really sweet of you.”

He shrugged, trying to play it cool, but his ears turned a telltale shade of pink at your words. “What kind of bloke would I be if I didn’t help you out?” he mumbled, his voice tinged with nervous humor.

The two of you chatted as you strolled toward the train. You told him about your plans for the holidays—how you were excited to see your family, how your mum always made far too much food, and how you couldn’t wait to decorate the tree. James listened intently, nodding and laughing at all the right moments, even as his mind raced ahead to the task at hand.

Then, his opportunity came.

You turned away for a brief moment, waving at one of your friends across the platform. James acted quickly, pulling the envelope from his pocket and slipping it into the outermost compartment of your bag. His fingers brushed the fabric for only a second, but it felt like an eternity.

His heart was hammering so loudly he was certain it could be heard over the clamor of the platform. He straightened up just as you turned back to him, completely oblivious to what had just transpired.

“Thanks again for carrying that,” you said with a smile, your eyes meeting his.

James gave a small, lopsided grin and shifted your bag on his shoulder. “Anytime,” he replied, his voice steady despite the storm of nerves swirling inside him.

As the train’s whistle blew, signaling it was time to board, James knew there was no turning back now. All he could do was wait—and hope that when you found the letter, you’d read it and understand the words that had taken him so long to say.

It had been days since you’d left for the holidays, and James still hadn’t heard from you. Each passing day only worsened the sinking feeling in his chest.

Did you not feel the same? Did you hate him for ruining the friendship? Or worse, were you so disgusted by his confession that you couldn’t even bear to send him a letter saying so?

By Christmas morning, the knot of worry in James’s stomach had become unbearable. He’d stopped pacing and pretending not to care. He spent the early hours staring at the window, waiting for an owl that seemed as though it would never come.

But then, just as the first rays of sunlight streamed through his frosted window, he saw it—a familiar owl perched outside, clutching a small envelope in its talons. His heart leapt with a desperate flicker of hope. Maybe you’d only just found the letter. Maybe you’d taken your time because you wanted to write something perfect.

James hurried to open the window, shivering as the cold air rushed in. The owl extended its leg, allowing him to untie the letter. “Thanks, mate,” James murmured, absently offering the owl a treat before it flew off into the winter sky.

His fingers trembled as he opened the envelope, eager to see your handwriting. But his heart sank the moment he read the first line.

“Happy Christmas, James!”

No mention of his letter. No response to his confession. Just a short, cheerful note wishing him a wonderful holiday and apologizing for not writing sooner. You explained that things had been hectic at home and promised to catch up with him soon.

James felt his chest tighten, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. The hope he’d been clinging to was slipping through his fingers.

You’d ignored his letter.

You’d chosen to act as though he’d never written it at all, as if he’d never poured his heart out on that piece of parchment.

James scoffed, his grip on the letter tightening. Fine, he thought bitterly. If you were going to pretend his confession didn’t exist, he could do the same.

He shoved the letter onto his desk, glaring at it as if it were the source of his frustration. Deep down, though, he knew the truth: he didn’t want to ignore you. He wanted to write back, to ask if you’d found the letter, to make sure you weren’t upset with him.

But pride was a stubborn thing, and James Potter wasn’t about to let his vulnerability show again—not now.

As the snow fell softly outside his window, James sat in silence, staring at the letter and wondering if he’d made a mistake by ever writing to you in the first place.

When it was time to return to Hogwarts, James made no effort to find you. Normally, he’d scan the platform, pretending it was a coincidence whenever his eyes landed on you. This time, he couldn’t bring himself to look.

He saw you anyway, just briefly—standing near your family, your face lit up with that familiar smile. His heart leaped in his chest, and his legs almost betrayed him, ready to stride over and say something, anything. But he stopped himself.

Instead, James turned sharply, mumbling a quick goodbye to his parents before heading onto the train. He didn’t want to see you—not now.

The walk through the train felt heavier than usual. He knew exactly where his friends would be—the same compartment they’d claimed since their first year—but it felt like an eternity to get there. When he finally slid open the door, the familiar faces of Sirius, Remus, and Peter greeted him.

“Oi, Prongs!” Sirius called cheerfully, but his grin faltered when James slumped onto the seat next to Peter with a loud huff.

James leaned his head back against the wall, closing his eyes. He could feel Sirius’s gaze on him, curious and probing.

“What’s got your wand in a knot?” Sirius asked, unable to resist.

“Don’t.” James’s voice was sharp, firm. It was rare for him to be in a foul mood, let alone snappish.

Sirius raised his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. I won’t say a word.”

The tension in the compartment was palpable. The train rattled on, and the usual chatter of the four friends was noticeably absent. Sirius kept stealing glances at James, who sat brooding, arms crossed. Peter fidgeted nervously, while Remus flipped through a book, clearly uncomfortable with the silence.

Finally, about an hour into the ride, James broke.

“She ignored my letter.” His voice was low, bitter, but it shattered the quiet like a hex.

The others exchanged looks before Peter spoke hesitantly. “She really ignored it?”

“Yes, Peter,” James snapped, his tone sharp enough to make Peter flinch. Realizing what he’d done, James sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine,” Peter mumbled, avoiding eye contact.

“Maybe she didn’t see it,” Remus offered, his tone calm and rational. “What if it got lost in her luggage? Or someone else found it and hid it? Maybe you gave her another piece of parchment? There’s always a chance—”

“Moony, no.” James cut him off, his voice strained. “I double-checked. It was the right letter, in the right spot. And who doesn’t check their trunk full of clothes over the holiday?”

“Maybe she doesn’t,” Sirius said with a shrug, trying to lighten the mood. “You know, women can be unpredictable. Maybe she’s got a secret stash for random letters in her trunk.”

“No, she checks,” James said with certainty. “I’ve slipped plenty of things into her luggage before, and she’s always found them. She just doesn’t fancy me back.” His voice cracked slightly at the end, but he forced a small, bitter smile. “And it’s fine. I’ll get over it. I always do, right?”

The compartment fell silent again, the weight of James’s words sinking in.

Sirius leaned forward, a flicker of frustration in his eyes. “It’s not fine, James. If she didn’t fancy you back, that’s one thing. But ignoring you? That’s—”

“Don’t,” James interrupted quietly, his gaze fixed on the floor. “Don’t make it worse, Padfoot.”

Sirius bit back a retort and leaned back in his seat, muttering under his breath.

The rest of the ride passed more comfortably, but the shadow of James’s disappointment lingered. His friends cracked jokes and told stories, trying to lift his spirits, but even when he laughed, it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Deep down, James wondered if he’d ever stop wishing that you’d read his letter and felt the same way.

Hours later, everyone had gathered in the Great Hall. The enchanted ceiling reflected the dusky evening sky, and the buzz of students catching up after the holiday filled the room. Normally, James would sit with Sirius to his left, you to his right, and Remus and Peter across from him. It was a familiar arrangement, one you’d fallen into without question.

But tonight, James broke the routine.

He subtly nudged Peter into the spot on his right before sitting down, leaving the space where you’d usually sit conspicuously empty.

You walked in a moment later, scanning the Gryffindor table until you spotted your usual group. But when you approached, your steps faltered. Peter sat where you always did, looking apologetic but saying nothing.

Your eyes darted to James, silently questioning him, but he avoided your gaze, his attention fixed stubbornly on his plate.

Confused, you looked to Remus for an explanation. Out of all the Marauders, he was the one you trusted most to give you a straight answer. But Remus only shrugged, his expression carefully neutral, though the twitch at the corner of his mouth hinted at discomfort.

You scoffed, your chest tightening. First, James ignored you all through the holiday, and now he didn’t even want to sit near you? Fine. If he wanted to sulk like a child, you weren’t going to beg for his attention.

Without another word, you turned on your heel and walked further down the table, sliding into a seat beside your other group of friends. You forced yourself to laugh at their jokes and join in their chatter, but your mind kept wandering back to James.

At the Gryffindor table, James’s eyes flicked toward you more often than he’d admit. Every time he saw you laughing with your friends, his stomach twisted.

“Why is she acting like I’m the one in the wrong?” James muttered under his breath, jabbing at a piece of roast potato with his fork.

“Maybe because you’re acting like a prat?” Sirius replied, his tone laced with amusement as he leaned closer.

James shot him a glare.

“Look, Prongs,” Sirius continued, dropping the teasing. “She doesn’t know what’s going on. You didn’t even give her a chance to explain, and now you’re sulking like a first-year who lost his chocolate frog cards.”

“Explain what? She ignored my letter, Padfoot. What’s there to explain?” James hissed, though his tone lacked its usual conviction.

Remus sighed, setting down his goblet. “Did it ever cross your mind that maybe she doesn’t even know what letter you’re talking about?”

James froze, his fork hovering mid-air.

“Just talk to her, mate,” Sirius said, giving James a nudge. “Or don’t. But if you keep this up, you’re only making it worse—for both of you.”

James huffed, slumping back in his seat. The truth was, he didn’t know if he had it in him to face you just yet.

From across the hall, you caught the way James’s shoulders sagged, and for a brief moment, you considered walking over. But pride held you in place. If James wanted to act like this, fine. Two could play that game.

You and James hadn’t spoken in what felt like weeks. The once effortless connection you shared had been replaced with an awkward silence that weighed heavily on you. It wasn’t just James—it felt like the whole group of Marauders had grown distant, their usual antics and inside jokes missing their spark when you were around.

You couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d done something to upset him. But what? You racked your brain for answers, replaying every interaction from the past few months. James had always been one of your closest friends—why was he acting so strange?

Charms class was the hardest part of it all. You always sat beside James, sharing notes, exchanging whispers, and stifling laughs when Professor Flitwick wasn’t looking. Now, you sat in the same spot, the chair next to you glaringly empty.

You tried to focus on the professor’s instructions, but your thoughts were louder than his voice. Scribbling aimlessly in your notebook, you hardly noticed when someone approached your desk.

“Are you alright?”

Startled, you looked up to see a boy with a blue-and-bronze tie standing beside you. His face was vaguely familiar—you’d seen him around in class but had never spoken to him.

“Yeah—yes, I’m fine,” you stammered, blinking in confusion. Why was he talking to you?

He gave a polite, slightly amused smile. “Well, can you move your stuff? I’m sitting here now. We’re partners for the project.”

“Oh!” Heat rose to your cheeks as you hurriedly shoved your books to one side. “Sorry about that. I didn’t realize.”

“No worries,” he said, settling into the chair beside you. “I figured you weren’t paying attention—no offense. But I was, so I’ll explain what Professor Flitwick said.”

You managed a small smile, relieved by his casual tone. “Thanks. That’s… helpful.”

While he began outlining the project details, your focus wavered, glancing at James out of the corner of your eye. He was across the room, seated next to a loud and enthusiastic partner who seemed to be trying desperately to get his attention. But James wasn’t listening.

His gaze was fixed on you.

There was a flicker of something in his expression—jealousy, maybe? Regret? Whatever it was, it made your stomach twist.

You quickly turned your attention back to your new partner, nodding along to his explanation, even if you weren’t entirely listening. You felt James’s eyes on you the entire time, but you refused to look back.

Across the room, James’s jaw clenched. His partner waved a hand in front of his face, snapping him out of his trance.

“Oi, Potter! Are you even listening?”

“Huh? Yeah, sure,” James muttered, though his eyes drifted back to you moments later.

He hated this—seeing someone else sitting beside you, making you smile when that used to be his seat, his job. But he didn’t know how to fix it. The letter. The silence. The way he’d avoided you. It all felt too big now, too messy to undo.

Still, James couldn’t stop watching you, his heart sinking further with every laugh you shared with your new partner.

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taglist!! @zowiiiisblog , @kxnnxy , @rainingleaves , @icollectrubberduckies , @elsie-bells

[erwinsvow]

Okay but shy/bunny reader being used to bestfriend!Rafe ditching her because he’s with some girl, she never points it out and somehow she always lets it go because she’s just a babyy and Rafe starts realising that they don’t hang out as much😭💖

it was hard seeing rafe go—always was, and always will be.

you tried to convince yourself you were used to it now, but the familiar ache in your chest when he'd say goodbye to you, topper, and kelce and walk away hand in hand with his flavor of the week was getting worse and worse.

before you'd realized you had feelings for rafe—beyond just the affection you gave to your close friends—you hadn't cared at all. you'd even encouraged it, same way you did with top and kelce, offering advice and recommending which flowers to bring, what places to bring them.

not that rafe ever really needed your help. it seems since the day he'd become your best friend, there was a line of girls hanging behind the two of you, seemingly waiting for their turn. at night, when it felt worse—and somehow it always did feel worse in your bed alone, wondering if rafe's was empty too and knowing that it wasn't—you tried to make yourself feel better.

you're still here, and they're not—that's how you tried. it worked for a little.

the newest girl had been around for a record three weeks, so even your usual bandaid for your shattered heart wasn't helping the wound heal.

so far, he'd skipped two meals, a day at the course, and half of a boat day to spend with her instead of you. you, kelce, and top that is. you'd hoped today was going to be different, walking back to top's jeep after lunch to head to the marina.

"you're not coming?" you call out to rafe, who was walking back in the direction of his own car. kelce and top are too far away to hear—getting into the front already. you were always stuck in the back, and you had never minded when rafe was there to keep you company.

rafe flicks his eyes over you, taking in the new dress you really shouldn't have bought just to see what kind of reaction you could get from him. your bag has your bikini in it and one of his button ups to cover you and he sees it poking out—white seersucker temporarily distracting him.

"rafe?"

"yeah. sorry, no. made plans with-"

"yeah, of course you did." you cut him off, and though even a few weeks ago you couldn't have imagined the vitriol in your voice, it comes out all too easy. "have fun."

you try to walk away but his footsteps follow—and damn his long legs, because he gets infront of you before you can escape.

"what, kid? you mad at me?"

you shouldn't say something. you shouldn't say anything.

"we're going to the boat. you said you were coming. i cut fruit for you."

"i-i'm sorry. top will eat it."

"it's not for him. that's not the point." the words teeter on the edge—wanting so badly to tell him that you miss him. that he never hangs out with you anymore, that he's choosing some girl over you and it stings worse than anything you've felt so far.

you're not sure when it started feeling so different—rafe's always done this. and standing two feet from the jeep, kelce sticking his head out the window to yell at you to get in, you realize you're going to reveal yourself if you don't shut up.

"have fun, rafe. sorry. bye."

you don't give him a chance to respond, but it doesn't take anything else for the gears to click. you're too quiet to ever admit it, too shy to say what you're really thinking, and rafe knows that—he's known it since he met you.

standing there, watching you drive away with kelce and top, he briefly wonders what the last time was he did something just with you. he can't even remember it. it all blurs together—late night runs for ice cream and breakfast while top and kelce were still passed out. the sweet way you smile at him and how your expression changes when he goes to the girl who's waiting for him. he gets in the car and can't decide which direction to turn—towards this girl or towards you.

on the boat, you kick up your feet and open your book, trying to drown out the chatter of kelce and top trying to get out of the marina and focus singularly on the romance in your hands rather than the one in your brain. you drown it out a little too much.

"that the one i got you?" rafe asks from somewhere next to you.

"god-" you exclaim, book slipping from your grip and thudding on the boat. "you scared me." catching your breath, you bend to pick up your book, but rafe beats you to it, picking it up and placing it on your lap.

"sorry."

"what happened to your plans?" rafe shrugs. you wish your heartbeat would slow down. you look down at your lap and rafe looks over you—exposed skin shiny with sunblock, a blue bikini he thinks he's never noticed before, matching nails that suit you.

"already had plans with you, remember?"

[rosenclaws]

Congratulations on the 600 followers!!!

Can I request a smut/NSFW drabble.. I'm thinking worst logan..

Neighbour(?) Reader got asked out as a joke and he finds her upset.. (plus size if possible if not no worriessss!!!!)

Love your work!!

And congrats again on all the followers that's AMAZING!!

warnings: SMUT, MINORS DNI, fem!reader, plus sized!reader, oral (f!receiving), dirty talk, logan low key has a thigh kink, pet names (princess and pretty girl)

600 follower drabble masterlist

wc: 1.3k

a/n: Worst logan my love. Also this is my first time writing explicitly plus sized so please let me know if I need to change anything!! I hope you like it <33 Also this turned into way more than a drabble lol.

Men really were the fucking worst. Actually the fucking worst. What reason could someone have to do something so cruel? For a joke? A laugh? To hurt someone so badly just for fun? You sat at the damn restaurant for an hour checking your phone.

When you finally did get ahold of that asshole he just laughed at you. Told you it was a joke, that he'd never seriously be into someone like you. Your eyes welled with tears but you refused to let them fall in public. God, you can still feel the stares of people around you. The whispers.

How sad, that poor girl.

Did you see her check her phone over and over again?

Don't stare, she probably already feels bad enough...

Their words stung more than that assholes. You aren't stupid, you know that you aren't stereotypically attractive. You don't match the girls in magazines.

But that doesn't mean you don't deserve basic human respect. You didn't even like the guy, in fact, based on his horrible personality you were really doing him a favor.

You angrily stomped up the stairs and through the hallway. You should feel bad about the noise but you just can't bring yourself to care. You slam your door closed and toss your things onto your couch. A knock on the door almost makes you scream. Whoever it was needs to take the hint.

"What." You say as you rip open your door.

"Oh. It's you." You say flatly.

Any other time you'd be thrilled to see your hot neighbor at your door but right now it felt like another reminder of your failed love life.

"What crawled up your ass? Could hear you muttering a mile away." He asks and you roll your eyes.

"Brought you a peace offering." He holds up a bottle of wine and you decide to let him in.

"You're a man Logan. Why are men such shallow assholes?" You take another sip.

"Date gone bad princess?"

"I wouldn't even call it a date." You swirl your drink around in the glass.

To admit what really happened feels embarrassing. Especially to Logan. You had a massive crush on the man. That started the minute you met him. Your nice but weird neighbor Wade introduced the two of you one night. The second you looked into those gorgeous eyes and shook his big hands it was over.

"Hello? You still there?" Logan waves his hand in front of your face and you snap out of your thoughts. Deciding this day couldn't get any worse so you might as well just tell him.

"I got stood up. Turns out he asked me out as a joke."

"What a fucking dick." Logan growls. His hand tightened around the beer can in his hand.

"He said he'd never be into someone like me." You say with a huff. Drinking the last of your wine.

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

“Come on Logan, you’re a million years old you know what I’m talking about.” You gesture to yourself and it seems to click in his head.

“So what? Who fucking cares about that.” The can crushes under his intense grip the longer he thinks about it. You pour yourself more wine before answering him.

“Apparently, most people do.” 

“Well, he’s an idiot. Anyone would be lucky to have you.” He sees you brush him off and it bothers him. He’s not the kind of guy to lie to make you feel better. So why you don’t believe him is beyond him. He sees things as they are.

“I know a beautiful woman when I see one princess.” He smirks as he inches closer to you.

You’ve been the subject of Logan’s wet dreams for a while now. Your sweet laugh and pretty face. The sinful things he’s thought about. He’d feel ashamed but he knows you’ve got the hots for him too. Your staring isn’t as subtle as you think. Plus his super hearing allows for him to pick up on your more…intimate moments. He doesn’t mean to hear them, but he does.

“Logan…” Your breath catches in your throat as he cages you into the couch. His strong arms are on full display for you as you shrink into the couch. He’s got this feral grin on his face that both excites you and makes you nervous.

“Only boys can’t see past that bullshit. I’m a man. A man who knows how to please a woman like you.” He purrs.

Are you dreaming? Is this really happening? His knee nudges its way between your legs. The rough material of his jeans rubs against your panties. The friction makes you squirm.

“You gonna let me make you feel good pretty girl?” He whispers in your ear. His hand slips under your dress, fingers brushing over your clothed cunt. Teasing your skin with his touch.

“Please fuck!” You gasp as you claw at his shirt.

He reaches and tears it to shreds. Your mouth waters as you see his back muscles stretching and bulging, free of any clothing to hide him away. He’s a man on a mission as he lifts your dress up. His massive shoulders push your legs apart. You couldn’t close them even if you wanted to, which you don’t. He pulls your panties to the side and licks his lips.

“Just know she’s ripe and sweet. All for me.” His claws peek out and your heartbeat quickens as the sharp metal cuts through the fabric of your underwear.

“There we go.” He throws the scraps to the side and wraps his arms around your thighs. Hands digging into your soft skin. He squeezes your thighs and you hear a low purr coming from his throat.

“Fuck!” You moan as Logan buries his face in your pussy. There’s no holding back as he laps like an animal feasting on its favorite treat.

“So fucking sweet, god bury me in these thighs.” He mumbles.

His brain fogs with pleasure as he buries his tongue as far as it will go. You’re trapped in feeling his every torturous move. His grip is bruisingly delicious.

“Logan logan fuck don’t stop!” You tug hard on his hair as you grind your hips against his mouth. You’re losing it in pleasure as his tongue flicks across your clit.

“That’s what I’m fucking talking about.” He lifts his head, eyes clouded with lust as he tilts his head back. Savoring the taste of you as he prepares to dive back in. He’d die a happy man just to be suffocated between your beautiful thighs.

“Stupid fucking boys, you don’t need them right pretty girl? Not when you have me. I’ll make you come so hard you’ll never think of anyone else again.” You nod along to whatever he is saying.

Your head is up in the clouds as he sucks on your clit. Determined to make you scream his name. His wish is granted as he relentlessly plays toys with your clit. His tongue works magic as he brings your orgasm crashing down.

“Logan!” Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you lose yourself in pleasure.

Your senses muddle together as whimpers tumble from your lips, body buzzing with a warm and fuzzy feeling. It doesn’t last long as Logan refuses to let up. Working you into overstimulation until you’re pushing his head away weakly.

“Too much for you?” He licks his lips, a cocky smile on his face.

“No, I just. Need a break.” You say breathlessly as you try and control your breathing.

Your eyes travel down his chest. Admiring his muscles and stupidly attractive arms. His cock is straining in his pants. You let out a small yelp as he picks you up effortlessly.

Man, you love his mutant strength. Logan gently places you on your bed. He toys with your dress as he resists the urge to rip it apart.

“What was that guy's name again?” He asks as he unbuckles his belt. You open your mouth to answer but he cuts you off. He didn’t want an answer anyway.

“Doesn’t matter, You won’t remember it by the time I’m done with you.” 

[klausysworld]

Triggering, lots of murder. Y/N is basically a psychopath/serial killer (I watch too much TV)

Unlikely Love

Klaus was attracted to her darkness. The cold look in her eyes when someone said something she didn't like, it was like he knew she was something else.

Following her wasn't easy, she always seemed to know if someone was looking at her for any longer than five seconds, she'd caught his gaze too many times and she never looked impressed.

Still, Klaus had the advantage of being supernatural, his speed abilities made good use in hiding from her view. Which was how he learnt that she was more a monster than he thought.

Seeing her plunge a blade straight down into a begging mans chest, her eyes finally full of life as if the kill made her thrive. He shouldn't have been as turned on as he was.

Klaus often found human killers fascinating.

As a vampire, a creature of the night or a werewolf, it was instinctual to hunt and kill but a human? Was it natural to routinely take life after life, brutally and uncaringly?

A vampire was scary because it was wired to need blood but a human like her was worse because she didn't need it, she wanted it and she liked it. Enjoyed it even.

He would watch her ritual often, she had a type. Misogynistic men usually.

"A little ironic don't you think?" She'd ask her latest victim, blade in hand ready as her fingers stroked the steel. "A woman gave you life, and now a woman will take it away." Her tone was always mocking and amused, her smile deepening as the man was splutter false apologies and promises to be better if she let him live. "I would but...gosh I'm just so emotional as a woman that I can't even control myself." She'd whisper dramatically, ignoring his change in mood and the vial curses he'd scream at her before the sharp pain would shock his body and mind into silence.

Klaus could see the peace wash over her at the quiet.

Something about seeing her splattered by blood, painted with her work, it was ethereal. He loved it.

There was a certain thrill of guessing who she'd choose next, who was worthy of her wrath.

Sometimes he would fantasise her choosing him, restraining him and stabbing him with such a delicious force that he wouldn't be able to contain his moans.

Klaus had lost his mind years ago and so seeing her like this so young was peculiar, it had taken him centuries to enjoy the kill.

When it became apparent that he actually wanted her attention, he decided to make a move and invite her to his family ball. He gave her a dress, the fabric as deep a red as the blood in his veins and tucked beneath the material was a gorgeous dagger, from him to her. Klaus knew it would make her turn up.

He appeared behind her as she entered the building, his hand finding her hip and leading her further inside.

"I'm glad you came, my love." He confessed to her, she didn't yet look up at him but he didn't mind.

"What do you want?" She asked, not amused by his efforts.

"You." He told her, finally gaining the attention from her hollow eyes.

"I don't think you understand me as well as you think you do." She murmured to him, her voice low so others were oblivious to the conversation.

"I know what you are." He whispered back, his eyes eager and full of a desire she couldn't reciprocate.

"Then you should know that I will never care for you. Never be attracted to you. You could die now and it wouldn't effect me in the slightest." She concluded and he hummed, not really bothered by the fact.

"Doesn't make me want you less, my love. But don't worry, I won't force myself on you, I wouldn't want to be tied up and killed now would I?" He grinned and she narrowed her gaze.

"Something tells me that you very much would want that." She replied and he chuckled, knowing she was absolutely right.

"Dance with me, despite your lack of emotions, you might not hate it." He enticed and took her hand, guiding her along to the main floor where others already lifted and spun each other around effortlessly.

It wasn't long before Klaus had her in similar positions, hands holding her waist and twirling her around his home until a little smile crept onto her crimson lips.

Once the night came to an end and guests began filtering out, he brought her to his art room. She ran her fingers over the tormented paintings of his mind.

Klaus was able to present death in a way that even non-broken people would find beautiful. For Y/N there was no way to explain the tranquility that his art possessed.

She wasn't bothered by the paintings of her own naked skin drenched in blood, sprawled out in ways only his demented mind could fathom.

"I can't tell if you want to have sex with me or kill me." She told him and he laughed.

"Whichever you'd prefer, my love." He grinned and she shook her head.

"You should know that I'm not unfamiliar with what you are, nor am I unfamiliar with white oak." She informed and he hummed, knowing she was as smart as he if not more so.

"Should I start crying in the corner?" He teased and her eyes rolled.

"It's late, I need to be home." She announced as she tucked his art back into a folder and turned for the door.

"Your home, or a victims?" He questioned, following her out with a smile on his face.

"My home. Unfortunately I have to sleep, otherwise I'm a little sloppy which causes too many chances."

"Of course, well at least allow me to walk you if not drive you home." He offered and she accepted, knowing arguing would be pointless and so let the hybrid drive her home and let her slip away into her own darkness.

Klaus took entertainment in following her, letting her see him every now and then as if to purposely piss her off. She'd always glance to where he was after the tip of the dagger he'd gifted her was buried inside the man on her table.

She didn't understand his attraction to her, she wasn't sure if it made him worse than her or better for at least being able to have those feelings.

Y/N hadn't had sex before, it wasn't something she was interested in. She didn't feel romantically for anybody and she barely liked anybody's company so the opportunity never came up so it was a little confusing when she had a very explicit dream of Klaus taking her roughly against the table that she usually killed people on.

It turned out that Klaus planted the dream, based off of his own fantasies and what he thought she might enjoy, he didn't realise she'd never even considered sex with anybody.

So she wasn't exactly impressed when he kissed her, hand holding the back of her neck and tongue running along her bottom lip.

She bit his tongue, hard, thinking he'd pull away but he only groaned and seemingly melted into her. Her eyes rolled and she kissed him back, tasting his blood and his tongue as her eyes remained open and looked at his closed ones. The way his lashes brushed the apples of his cheeks. When his bright blue eyes fluttered open to look at her, he was a little started to see her dead ones staring back at his. He let his lips detach from hers and slid his hand round to her cheek.

"You don't feel anything at all, do you?" He whispered and she blinked, unsure of what to say because actually, in that split second of looking at him then, she did feel something.

"I guess not." She shrugged and he hummed.

"Was it unpleasant?" He asked.

"Not particularly." She told him and he nodded.

"So we could do it again?" He questioned and she shrugged again.

"I guess."

So they did. Klaus would kiss her because he liked her, enjoyed her and it sated his own beast and Y/N would kiss him back because she wanted to see if she could feel that little spark again.

Klaus would chuckle when he saw her staring straight at him again. "You're supposed to close your eyes, my love. Here, try it." He told her and pulled her back for another kiss and this time she took his advice and closed her eyes. She felt that spark again, a flicker of warmth.

His hand brushed up along her thigh, fingers gently squeezing as his tongue wrapped around hers. Klaus knew not to push it too far and so pulled away after a few minutes and wrapped his arm around her waist and listened to her soft sigh as their gazes drifted back to the dead body on the table across from them.

"I'm hungry." She mumbled and he suppressed a laugh.

"I'll buy you dinner." He told her and she shrugged, accepting his hand and going with him to the closest restaurant.

They became an interesting pair. People assumed they were a regular couple. Even his family knew they were together but couldn't exactly pinpoint what was 'wrong' with them but they could tell something was off.

Probably wouldn't have guessed power serial killing couple. The type Love Quinn probably envisioned or Hannah Mckay.

It was definitely what Klaus envisioned anyway.

Especially when she was laid against his chest, in his bed, watching horror films with him. His fingers had been lazily tracing patterns along her thighs, his head resting against hers.

Y/N's body reacted without her really realising. Klaus only knew when the sweet scent of her arousal filled his nose. His eyes focused a little more and his tongue darted to wet his lips.

Y/N was barely paying him any mind as he turned, his body pressing to her side so that his hard on was nudging her hip and thigh. His lips kissed her neck and she let him be, assuming he was in an affectionate mood like he seemed to get after a kill. She was more interested in the film than how the hyrbid humped at her leg.

It was only when he let out a groan that she snapped back into real time and looked down to see him grinding on her with his eyes shut and mouth open.

Y/N blinked blankly at him before hesitantly patting his back, trying to offer...anything to help him as he bucked his hips. She thought that would be it but her touch seemed to encouraged him to slide his hand up between her legs, his fingers stroking over the fabric of her panties beneath the skirt he had bought her.

That was when she grabbed him, his cock specifically and not very kindly.

"Ah- Fuck!" He yelled and grabbed her throat roughly, pining her down as he shoved her hand off him and held himself between the legs, a breath of pain leaving his lips. "What on earth was that for?" He growled at her and she glared, in a second he felt a sharp stab in his side and looked down to see the dagger lodged inside him. His rage built as he stared back at her, he wanted to hurt her but there was this little flicker in her eyes. She didn't hurt him out of enjoyment, she did in defense.

He let go of her neck and moved to lay back down, letting her pull the blade out of him with a grunt as she slipped it back away out of sight. He wrapped his arm back around her and pulled her back to his side.

"Next time, just say you don't like it." He muttered and she scoffed.

"Why did you ever think that I would?" She snapped and he rolled his eyes.

"Sweetheart, I wouldn't have tried to touch your pretty little cunt if I couldn't smell her begging for me." He told her and her face flushed as she frowned and reached her hand down, touching herself with confusion and looking at the wetness that coated her fingers. Klaus's eyes darted down to see the way they glistened, his heart thumping in his chest as he hesitantly lowered his head to lick them clean.

An inaudible sound left Y/N when he did so and he felt her fingers push further into his mouth, encouraging him to suck.

Slowly he pulled off her hand and looked up at her eyes. For once they weren't completely dead. She finally kissed him first.

He pulled her onto his lap, giving her the advantage she needed and letting her be on top. But it wouldn't be enough. He realised that when her hands clutched his wrists tightly, nails dug into his skin until he could smell his own blood.

"Wait..." He mumbled and pulled his hands away, reaching down and unbuckling his belt, pulling it off and pushing the leather into her hands before holding his wrists together. She glanced between his wrists, the belt and his eyes a few times before slowly tightening the belt around them, pulling it so that he couldn't move them at all.

He let her guide his arms over his head and to the headboard, keeping them there as she lifted her shirt over her head and unclasped her bra.

His jaw ticked at the sight of her firm breasts on display but he had no time to appreciate them as she removed her skirt and underwear, her soft pussy finally close to him. His heart pounded but he stayed silent as she pulled his henley off and tugged his jeans down alongside his boxers.

She didn’t hardly look at his cock, not that interested in the sight of it.

Instead she just got herself on top of him like she had in the dream he'd given her and sunk down onto him. Klaus groaned loudly whilst her face twisted in discomfort and uncertainty. She sat on him quietly for a moment before he came to and looked down.

"It's okay, just move your hips a little bit to start." He told her, voice softer then she'd heard it.

Her body moved like he'd suggested, her cunt getting the friction it had secretly desired for the longest time making her moan involuntarily. Klaus grinned, watching her get the hang of it and rock her hips until her eyes were fluttering and her back was arching.

"You like that, my love?" He whispered and she nodded, her nipples brushing his bare chest as she bounced on his lap. "I want to touch you." He murmured, his fingers twitching but her head shook.

"No." She told him firmly and he moaned quietly at her tone and obeyed, adjusting his arms up above his head. There was something about her then, feeling her pussy squeezing so good and dripping so much as her tits pushed against him and her head was back. She was finally feeling something really good. Whether it was emotional or just physical, she still loved the feel of it and of him.

So they did it again, and again and again. All the time.

Klaus was convinced he'd died and gone to heaven. Being able to kill people with approval, to have someone as crazy as he was and have mind-blowing sex 24/7? He'd only wished he'd found her sooner.

Klaus started finding more people for her to kill, wanted to see her all bloody so he could lick it off her as he rutted his hips into her from behind.

The hybrid had developed intense feelings for Y/N, he cared for her truly. He started really loving her and showing it and she showed him similar things back.

They went on dates, they celebrated each other's birthdays and their one year anniversary. She started to know him, give him things, tokens of appreciation.

She touched him, not always sexually but softly and gently as if she cared for him too.

But they weren't the same. Klaus wasn't evil from young, she was. He had deep routed feelings, she didn't.

He should have thought of that some more before falling in love.

Because when it came down to him or her, a dagger against her heart and the white oak against his...he loved her too much to kill her first.

[princecharmingwinks]

Sterek Fic Rec - 2024

Guess who's backkkkk??? Ok so I know that I am late but only by like 4 days? So not too bad. Anyway! Welcome to Prince's 2024 Fic Rec List! I am now aiming to do a list every year (and more if we are lucky but let's not promise that hehe). As always here are my top 10 fics I read and a special bonus mention !

Perfect Star That Hid by thebigoblin (1/1 | 1K | Teen)

He turns his hand— It’s not bare, anymore. His wrist — it has a name. His soulmate’s name. He stares. And stares and stares because what the hell. This has to be a joke, right?

Last Christmas (I gave you my heart) by jadore_hale (1/1 | 4K | Teen)

“W-what is this?” Derek couldn’t even begin to get his mind around this current situation. “My Christmas gift to you, nephew.” Peter pushed the guy towards him, and Derek hastened to catch him before he fell face first on the floor. “I’d like you to meet your soul mate.” *** Derek's uncle Peter decides to get a little more creative this Christmas by finding Derek's soulmate and stuffing him in a box with a pretty bow on top.

Stiles Stilinski, Magical PI by suzvoy (1/1 | 21K | Mature)

Stiles is a Private Investigator, only not really. He's also magical, but only close up. One thing he's really good at is lusting over people from afar, which is why it's a problem when Laura Hale hires him to help her brother.

Wanted and Wounded by RoxyRosee (3/3 | 12K | Explicit)

Derek can't seem to get off. It's been days with no luck, and he's constantly on edge. But then pack night rolls around, and when Stiles falls into him as he goes to sit down on the couch, Derek is suddenly coming, right where he sits. Turns out, Stiles is his mate. And among a whole slew of embarrassing side effects to this whole "mate" thing is the fact that Derek will never again be able to have an orgasm without Stiles by his side. So yeah, Derek's life kind of sucks right now.

Welcome to the Jingle by Jmeelee (1/1 | 1K | Mature)

Derek could admit—only to himself, of course, never out loud—that he was a little desperate to make new holiday traditions with his (officially all adults now thank god) pack. But his ideas had run more along the lines of a cozy take-out dinner at his new apartment, an ugly sweater or white elephant party, or maybe volunteering at the local soup kitchen. It had not involved spending Christmas Eve at Jungle.

Hey Dad, Derek Hale Is In My Room. Bring Your Gun. by fairytalesandfolklore (1/1 | 767 | Teen)

Being the Sheriff's kid is hard enough. Having a seemingly over-protective father who's more concerned about your bad influence than your ex-murder-suspect werewolf boyfriend is so much worse.

"The point is, I'm an adult," he amends, heaving a weary sigh as he attempts to salvage whatever is left of his dignity. "I can make my own decisions, and I choose Derek. He makes me happy. He's a good guy. He treats me well. He looks out for me, keeps me safe. He's responsible and respectful and a complete gentleman, and I really think that if you just got to know him a little better, you'd really—" The Sheriff holds up a hand, effectively cutting Stiles off mid-ramble. "I like Derek just fine," he says, and the smile that spreads across his face is warm and genuine. "You do?" Stiles falters, completely thrown. "Wait, so then why—" The Sheriff's fond smile turns to one of wry amusement. "It's you I don't trust, Stiles," he says around a hearty chuckle. "I've raised you for 18 years, I know exactly what kind of mischief you're capable of. Wouldn't want you dragging that nice, respectable boy into any trouble."

The Hoodie by PersePhonesDreams (1/1 | 1K | General)

Stiles didn’t mean to keep Derek’s hoodie—really, he didn’t. But the oversized, ridiculously soft thing quickly became his favorite comfort item, a piece of Derek he couldn’t quite let go of. It’s not like Derek would notice anyway... right? When Derek unexpectedly shows up at Stiles’ window one quiet night, Stiles’ not-so-secret attachment to the hoodie is exposed, leading to a conversation that changes everything. Cue awkward confessions, teasing smiles, and the realization that maybe Derek doesn’t mind Stiles keeping more than just his hoodie.

Over the Hedge(witch) by rororowyourboat (1/1 | 7K | Teen)

Derek moves into a new house with Laura and he is flustered by the hot gardener next door who is always just slightly dirty.

And When I Wake You're There I'm Saved by suchfun (1/1 | 14K | Teen)

"Derek," Stiles says, firm. His hand is warm on Derek's shoulder. "I'll be okay." "You didn't leave me," Derek argues. "How can you expect me to leave you?" Stiles rolls his eyes. "Oh my god, it'll be fine. Even if I am captured, I'm just a boring human. They wanted you for your Lycan blood." Derek crosses his arms. Mainly so he doesn't wrap his hands around Stiles' throat in an attempt to throttle some sense into him. "That's fine. But this isn't a time when being a boring human is an asset. This is a time when being a boring human results in a shot to the head." "Derek," Stiles says again. He steps closer, so Derek is surrounded in his scent, his chemosignals—namely unwavering, resolute determination, distinctively sharp and entirely unbreakable—clouding Derek's mind. "You'll come back for me." He sounds so sure, and he can tell the exact moment Derek gives in. Because Derek somehow always gives in to Stiles. "I'll come back for you," he confirms. "And you better not be dead." Stiles grins, eyes sparkling with far too much humour for someone who potentially just sacrificed himself for a surly Lycan and bunch of strangers. "You do say the sweetest things."

Remember What's Lost by AMatchInWater (1/1 | 7K | Explicit)

Wild Hunt AU, Stiles gets taken and Derek instantly knows something is wrong with his memory, but just doesn't know what until Lydia calls him, begging for his help to get Stiles back because she thinks they have the strongest connection. When Derek saves Stiles he stops at nothing to finally get what's his.

princecharmingwinks special mention (this fic has a heck of a lot of emotions and when Derek fell to his knees, my heart broke. you gotta read it to find out why! don't worry I will never read or rec unhappy endings)

Horizons into Battlegrounds by AClosedFicIsNeverRead (1/1 | 15K | Explicit)

Derek has always kept his distance from Stiles, refusing to act on his instinctive desire for the pale, doe-eyed human. But at what cost? When circumstances reveal the horrors that Stiles has suffered due to Derek's self-imposed distance, will the Alpha be able to make it right before it's too late? ______________________________________________________ “Who are you to the pack?” the hunter asked. “I’m nobody.” Stiles answered plainly. And a harsh chill ran through Derek’s body. His breath caught in his throat because… because Stiles’ heart… it had remained steady. Stiles… actually believed that. Believed that he was ‘nobody.’ How could Stiles believe that?

That is all for 2024 my friends! Please remember to give kudos and leave comments for all our amazing Sterek writers. I know I'd be lost without you all. Thank you!

[kingtomura]

Good Girl

Summary: It’s not your fault that your boyfriend was hard for people to warm up to. God, your parents are so lame. But so were you. So you did what anyone else with strict parents would, and you cut him off. 

Bad idea. 

Word count: 4k

part two is here!

Content: Tomura Shigaraki x female reader, explicit content, kinda quiet sex, cunnilingus, praise, slight humiliation, unprotected sex, strict parents, toxic relationship with parents, AU - no quirks, no use of y/n, gets a little mushy at the end im sorry

You would rather be anywhere else but here. You would pay to be anywhere else but right here, right now being scolded like some teenager who had been caught sneaking out after curfew. But you were here and you weren’t going anywhere any time soon. 

“He’s just not good for you,” your father’s voice stressed. It dragged on, pulling you from your drifting thoughts. “You have so much ahead of you and we even agreed to this gap year so that you could figure out what you wanted to do, not so you could run around with some delinquent boy with no future–”

“He‘s not a delinquent,” You cut off, “you’re judging him without even giving him a chance.”

Your father sighs, knowing he’s fighting a losing battle, but knowing you inherited his stubbornness has never detoured him from taking your objections head on. He’s been on this earth longer than you, butting heads with others longer than you have. “Well, whatever he is, he’s not allowed to see you again. That’s final.” he says with a shrug of his shoulders. False air of nonchalance sending fury through your veins. 

There would be no more arguing and you knew it. You desperately look to your mother, who is in her usual stance of resignation and uselessness when it comes to his word. If she saw things your way, she would never say. And even if she agreed with you, there would be no change. It has always been your father’s way or no way. 

“I’m an adult, you can't tell me who I can and can’t see.” you try once more, not ready to end things here. It’s suffocating. 

He scoffs, bringing a hand up to count his fingers, “You live under our roof, you eat our food, you drive our car, you give me attitude when I agree to give you time to figure out your life when you decided to leave university after two semesters,” his voice is rising and you begin to feel your eyes burn with the threat of tears, your chest tightening as its harder to catch a breath. You can’t cry here, it would only make things worse.  “I don’t think it matters how old you are. I am done with this conversation. End things with him now or you won't have a pot to piss in by the end of the day.” 

This cannot be happening. You're still sat on the plush sofa of the living room as your father stalks off with your mother in tow. The latter only glancing back with an empty look of pity as you stare at where your father had just been. Words burned into your mind while hot tears finally break and run down your cheeks. This is really happening.

And Tomura was going to be upset.

In a perfect world you could meet up with him tonight, talk it over, or even run away together and leave all this behind, but you know better. You know the two of you haven’t dated long enough to warrant running away together, but it still crosses your mind. You’ve never felt this way about anyone before and it's painful to think you never will again. Tomura just made you feel so.. Alive. There was so much to him and his witty dry humor that keeps pulling you in. 

He’s cynical, he’s moody and sometimes he’s mean but god he could be so soft. Touch you in ways that felt like he reached your soul. Quiet nights where you would stay at his house and watch him play video games would turn into late night sessions of making love until the twilight of dawn peeked through the dark curtains of his room. There was no way you could let him go. But you had to. You had to. Your father had given you no other choice. So you take the coward’s way out.

You text him.

You send him a short text that would send you to the bathroom dry heaving, but you didn’t know what else to do. What more could you say other than your father had snapped at you and you both could no longer be together. It would hurt so much more facing him head on. You knew that if you had to speak to him face to face that you would crack, probably throw out your silly idea of running away together and then face the awkward rejection. This was all you could manage. You felt awful for it, finally forcing yourself off of the floor and dragging your feet to the bathroom to get ready for bed. 

It had been hours and there was no response from Tomura. You couldn't blame him. What could anyone say to a break up text? You hollowly hoped he would fight for you. Even a little. But the flat Read 14:57 showed you otherwise. This had now become a heartbreak you werent quite expecting. You couldn’t help but second guess every interaction you had with him before. If maybe you read into things a little too deeply. If maybe, some smaller, quieter part of you dreaded your father was right.

There was no use of dwelling on that now. No point in running through what you would never know. So, you sighed, and finished up in the bathroom. Slipping on your silk sleeping gown that stopped above your knees and adjusted the small straps on your shoulder. You had cried for hours after your argument – if you could even call it that– with your father was over and your face ached. The bags under your eyes showing the worse for wear state you had found yourself in. it would be okay, you told yourself. You just have to sleep it off. 

And that was your plan and you slid into your welcoming bed, soft comforter embracing you and your worn feelings. You feel more tears begin to sting behind your eyelids before there's a sudden tap at your window. 

A trick of the wind, you decide and return to your somber thoughts. 

You would have to move on eventually, but tonight? He was the only thing on your mind. His eyes, his hair, the way he would feign annoyance when you were overly touchy, craving closer contact. He always indulged you. Always gave you more, you knew he liked it as much as you did. You were lovesick. 

Tap. 

There was that noise again. Louder than before as if someone had thrown a rock right at your window. The room was still and quiet so you knew it hadn’t been your imagination. 

Jumping to your feet and shuffling towards the window in question you brushed your curtains to the side to see the possible culprit. And when you do, your heart drops and instant regret fills you. Stomach aching as you take in the sight before you.

It’s Tomura Shigaraki and he is pissed.

Tomura, your Tomura leering up at you with another rock resting in his hand, bigger and ready to be tossed at your window if the last attempt didn’t work. 

You look around, knowing no one is in your bedroom but yourself and the moonlight, then go to open your window, ducking your head out to get a better look at him. There he was, black hoodie oversized and so soft, red eyes burning in anger but you aren't scared. You’re relieved, it's him. He's here to see you, mouth turned down in a scowl and fists clenched in fury but he was here. 

You couldn’t stop your hushed whisper, “what are you doing here?”

“I came to talk.” Was his only reply before he dropped the rock and walked towards your window. It wasn’t terribly high up, but higher than he could reach without a bit of help from you. 

Now that he was closer you could see the anger in his posture much more clearly. All tense shoulders and narrowed eyes. It was enough to make your stomach turn. You couldn't help but worry your bottom lip as he pulled out his phone and took a step closer.

“Really? Over a fucking text message?” He hissed, rasp in his voice, uncaring of the time of night or who could hear. 

“Tomura, shh, please–” you tried, hands coming up to placate him, if only a little. Your father would have your head if he heard another man in his home, let alone Tomura Shigaraki. 

He huffed a sarcastic laugh, disbelief taking over his features, but he obliged, “I don’t care what your father told you. He can’t control who you talk to.”

You shake your head, the all too familiar sting of tears in your eyes threatening to fall, “I know. I told him that, but he threatened to kick me out, to cut me off. I’m sorry Tomura, but I can't.”

“He can't do that.”

You nod, knowing all too well that your father would go through with his threat. “He can. Technically. I'm an adult, so it’s his choice.” The tears fall now, seeing the rage dissipate from Tomura, slight drop of his shoulders showing disbelief and disappointment. It's too much. This is why you didn’t want to see him, couldn’t face him. “I'm so sorry,” you whisper, trying to hold in the sobs threatening to wrack your body and possibly wake your parents up. This could not have ended worse.  “I don't want it to be this way.”

“Wow, I didn't know you were such a good girl.”

Your breath hitches, caught off guard, “What is that supposed to mean?”

He shrugs. “I didn't know you did everything daddy says. What a good girl you are.” The tone is one you’re familiar with. Condescending. Challenging. He’s testing you.

Your cheeks flushed. What could you say? That you’re not a good girl, actually. Then what would that make you? A bad girl? You would walk right into his trap. He’s watching, waiting for a response. Something to make you slip up. 

You don't have the chance to respond before he’s taking a step forward, lifting your chin with a finger so that you could look him in the eyes. Even in the dim lighting of the room those crimson eyes looked into your own. Like he was delving deeper, looking for the response that you can't seem to give him. Nothing else matters in this moment. It’s just him and you and the pale moonlight dancing between you. The air is tense and unmoving, like the smallest noise, the faintest blow of wind would ruin this moment. 

You couldn’t take it, couldn’t wait another minute before your body moved, leaning forwards onto the tips of your toes to give you more leverage as your lips pressed to his. His lips were still cold and dry from the cool air outside but that didn’t matter. Nothing matters more than knowing you needed more of him and you needed it now. Tomura’s hand came to rest at the nape of your neck, pulling you closer and the kiss deeper. Taking all of you in as his other hand gripped your waist. 

Your hands wasted no time burying into his hoodie – so soft and worn–  the faint smell of citrus and cedar being a comfort as the intoxicating kiss deepened. Tomura wasted no time, slick tongue entering your mouth, hungry, like it was the last time you would have him this way. It was too much. It was not enough. You broke the kiss, a string of saliva following the short distance you put in between. Air seemed sparse, like you couldn't get enough and Tomura spoke before you could.

“Get on the bed.” 

And you did, newfound vigor in your step as you eagerly did as what you were told. Energy ebbing through your veins as excitement overtook your previous anxiety. Tomura was a mere step behind, discarding his hoodie without care and joining you on the bed, caging you beneath him as he dove back in for another kiss, wet and warm, before trailing lower. Open mouthed kisses to your jaw, then neck, his hands, rough and warm gripping your thighs, taking in all he can. After leaving a particularly hard bite on your neck, Tomura lifted your gown up, smooth silk gliding with ease above your ass and resting below your breast. It was only natural for your legs to spread for him, cool air on your bare cunt making you shiver. 

“Oh?” An amused huff from the man above you makes your cheeks heat further than before. He’s seen you like this many times before, but he’s always had a way of making you feel shy. “No panties, huh?”

You push past your embarrassment. “You know i dont wear them to b– ah!” you're cut off by the feeling of his finger sliding between your folds, slick making it glide, and rubbing over your clit. The surprise of the motion makes you press your thighs closer together. Tomura grins above you, before bringing his wet finger to his mouth, a mocking shh following the motion, tongue flicking out and licking the digit as his other hand pushed your legs apart again. 

He bends down, bulge in his sweatpants pressing against your bare cunt. He’s so hard and that thought only makes you wetter. Tomura’s nose brushes yours, your eyelids fluttering shut as he dives to kiss you again. All open mouthed and wet. You could taste yourself on his tongue as well as feel the pressure of his clothed erection grind against you, rubbing against your bundle of nerves. You are sure your slick is dampening his sweatpants but Tomura doesn’t care. He’s grinding you into the mattress and you’re so close to begging him to get on with it you want to scream. But almost like he’s read your mind, he pulls away. 

The kisses he places along your body set your nerves on fire, anticipation eating away at your patience as he takes his time. Once he’s reached his destination, right between your thighs, he places one wet kiss onto the plush of your inner right thigh. Another teasing move. Another way to make you squirm in excitement. He looks up at you, ruby eyes gleaming in the moonlight of the room. 

“Be quiet for me, yeah?” 

Tomura huffs a laugh at your eager nod, grin growing wider. So quick to please. Dedicated. “Good girl.”

The praise makes you falter for a second, embarrassment threatening to make its way to the surface once more. There was no time for it now, Tomura enjoyed catching you off guard. Loved surprises. He wastes no more time, tongue licking a wet strip between your lips. The action causing you to moan louder than you intended. Your hand rushes to cover your mouth. If you were to be caught in this predicament by either of your parents it would be horrendous for the both of you. 

This doesn’t stop Tomura, though. If anything you were starting to think it encouraged him, because his relentless pace on your cunt was driving you wild. His long stripes simmered into just the tip of his tongue flicking your clit and  sending jolts of pleasure roaring through you. You were already close, pleasure and pressure building and building until you were so close to tipping over– 

Knock knock.

“Hey sweetie. I know it's late, I just wanted to talk for a second.” 

It was your mom. Holy shit it was your mom and there's a boy in your bed with his head buried between your legs and holy shit. If she opened the door, if she barged into your room in the familiar way she always had a bad habit of doing, you would be done for. With wide eyes and accelerated breaths, you clamped down harder over your mouth with both hands. Even Tomura stopped in his tracks, gaze lazily focused on the door with curiosity bleeding into his indifference. 

Your mother must have taken the silence as a sign of slumber, yet she continued. Voice muffled by the door between you both. 

“Your father... was harsh today. And I’m sorry for that.” She pauses, long enough for you to believe she would be giving up and going back to her bedroom. You aren't so lucky, surely at this point you were very unlucky and you dreaded whatever else she had to say. “I just want you to know that he just wants the best for you.” your heart drops as she carries on, unaware and unconcerned of the other pair of ears listening in to her words. “We don’t know him that well. We can't risk you getting involved in something you're not ready for and throwing your future away.”

At this, Tomura rolls his eyes, interest clearly lost and goes back to his earlier movements. The sloppy kiss to your clit catches you off guard and forces a whine out of you. It was small, but still a noise. Squeezing your eyes shut you prayed this would be written off as an odd sleep noise. Wishing to the sky that it wasn't noticeable and Tomura would stop. He didn’t. It was in that moment he decided pressing a finger against your entrance would bring out more noises. The digit slipping in with minimal effort and adding more pleasure to this mix as he sucked your clit. 

If your mother heard anything, she didn't make it known. The floorboards outside of your door creaking with the shifting of her weight. “Well, maybe we can get ice cream or something tomorrow. Have a little girl’s day?” The silence is palpable as she waits for an answer that won't come. “Okay well, goodnight sweetie. See you in the morning.”

You don’t know what you're more grateful for; the sound of her receding steps or that fact that Tomura wasn't cruel and waited until the telltale sound of a door opening and closing rang through the air before adding another finger and curling them. This time you couldn’t bite back the moan that escaped you, hands gripping the cotton of your duvet. 

“Aw, how sweet,” Tomura started, sitting up while adding a thumb to your sensitive nub and rubbing slow circles to replace his mouth. “She wants to have a little girls’ day with you.” 

His mocking tone would have gotten a reaction out of you any other time, but right now you were so close. On the precipice of an orgasm that’s been drawn out for far too long. You could only look at him with half lidded eyes as his fingers worked like magic sending you closer and closer, your breath hitching as you finally, finally reached the climax. Body shaking pleasure cascades over you like a tidal wave. 

“There we go,” Tomura whispers, giving your cunt a playful tap after letting you ride the sensation out. He pulls away completely to take off his sweatpants and underwear, cock already hard and leaking. Your tongue darts out to wet your lips at the sight and you hear his breathless chuckle. “I’ll let you have a taste next time, but right now, I can't wait any longer.” 

It was only when he began to line up with your entrance that you absently wondered about the lack of condoms you owned. You look up at him, question burning on your tongue but he only grins at you, and you swore in that moment he was a mind reader. “I didn’t bring any with me, sorry,” his voice was far from apologetic as he stroked his cock, rubbing the head between your folds and against your clit, slick soaking the head. “But don't worry,” he continued, leaning forward and you felt the pressure at your entrance, excitement buzzing through your veins. “I’ll pull out.”

Whether you believed him or not didn’t matter, you had no time to process a thought as he began stretching you to the limit with his size. A gasp escaped your parted lips as the sickeningly sweet feeling of being stretched too far too fast took over. He gave you a minute to adjust, even as his cock twitched in anticipation of movement. The grip he had on your hips was tight enough to bruise and you knew it was taking a lot of his self control to wait for you. 

He pressed on, figuring it had been long enough and bottomed out with a sigh. Your walls clenched around him and swore you could cum from the stretch alone. After giving you a second to breathe he pulled back, almost pulling out, only to snap his hips back forward into you. Your head lolled onto the pillow, hand coming up once more to mute the moans dragging from your body. Tomura hoists your legs onto each side of his shoulders,bending them forward and successfully folding you like a lawn chair as he started his aggressive pace, forcing your tight heat to clench around his cock. 

“Oh, fuck…” you couldn’t help but mutter as you struggled to hold off your already approaching orgasm. 

Tomura saw this as a challenge. “What? You gonna cum on my cock?” he mocked, pace wild and rough, leaving you gasping as you shut your eyes, not ready to admit how right he was. “It's okay,” he continued, leaning closer and allowing his dick to press deeper inside you. The drag hitting the bundle of nerves inside and nearly sending you over the edge. “Come on, cum on my cock like the good girl you are.” 

Those words push you over, hips convulsing as your legs shake and it takes Tomura slapping a hand over your mouth this time to quiet you. You couldn’t focus on anything else, let alone keeping quiet. Your body felt light and Tomura fucked you through it. His pace grew more erratic as his grinning face became one of focus, brows furrowing as his eyes shut and he focused on his pleasure. Your pussy squeezing around him making it harder for him to stave off his own nearing climax. You were worried that at this point you were both too far gone. The silence of the home would leave the messy noises between you both loud and clear for the entire house to hear. Tomura was great at keeping his composure but the soft groans coming from your lover only showed how much he was losing his grip. 

“Can’t– fuck, sorry–” you didn’t have time to decipher his strange words, your curious eyes meeting his face to gauge his expression before you feel it. 

His cock twitches inside you, seed painting your insides white as his thrusts didn't slow. He was hammering away at your insides, only pumping his cum further into you.  You feel so full, the warmth spreading over your body like a blanket. He came in you. Even though he said he wouldn’t, he did. The worst part about it? You don’t care. It's invigorating. You feel even more attached to him. Even closer. You want more.

Overstimulated and weak, you whimpered, thoughts swimming as Tomura finally came down from high. Slowing his thrusts and panting heavily. Your heart is drumming against your chest as he removes your sore legs from his shoulders. Shuddering as he slips out of your tight heat, feeling the cum dripping out of you and onto your sheets. 

The bed dipped as he took his place next to you. Out of breath and eyes focused on the ceiling. Your ears were ringing with the sudden quietness of it all. Things felt different, heavy. 

“You could always just not tell them.” It was Tomura who broke the silence first. “Act sad, mope around, and then come see me at night.” 

You glanced over, vaguely registering the sweat cooling on your body. You would need to get up and get cleaned up soon. “Yeah, but if they catch me–”

“They won't. I’ll teach you how.” he turns towards you, bringing a hand to your chin to make you face him. There’s a fuzzy feeling turning in your chest and the familiarity of heat rising to your cheeks is starting to drive you mad. His grin is enamoring, red eyes almost glowing with mischief in the moonlight. “I’ll show you the ropes.” 

There's an ache that tugs at your chest as you nod. “Okay.”

You are so fucked.

[4linos]

when the walls crumble

lee felix x gn!reader

synopsis/request: felix’s stubbornness leads to a fallout with the person who cares about him most. in the aftermath of their argument, he must confront the consequences of his actions and decide what truly matters.

wc: 1341

For weeks, Felix has been pushing himself harder than usual. He has been working 24/7 with the group, practicing, recording, attending meetings, and putting in long hours of physical activity despite his back pain. The strain was becoming clear to you, despite Felix's attempts to hide it.

His usual happy personality became more subdued, his smile less frequent, and he began holding himself in an uncomfortable way, wincing while standing up or sitting down. You, as someone who loves him, observed the little details: the way he'd touch his lower back after long practices, or how he'd neglect breaks, pushing through the discomfort because he didn't want to slow anyone down. But what hurt you the most was the way he ignored any concerns you had.

He was always the one who looked out for everyone else, so seeing him suffer and refusing to listen to his own body seemed like a betrayal of his own well-being. You worried that if he kept going this way, it might lead to something far worse. But Felix, ever determined, refused to admit it. He had this hidden pride, a desire to prove his own worth even if it meant concealing his sorrow. The night of the argument was just like any other in recent weeks. Felix had gotten home from a late practice, dragging his tired body into the living room, exhausted but unwilling to stop. You had dinner ready, but Felix looked distant and deep in his thoughts. You tried to engage him by asking how his day went, but he just gave tired comments. You tried to ignore it, but something inside you snapped. The worry that had been building up inside of you for so long could no longer be suppressed. "Felix, we need to talk," you said, your voice faltering slightly. Felix looked up, slightly confused but not yet really understanding the gravity of the situation. "About what?" he asked, seemingly distracted rather than concerned.

You took a deep breath and, for the first time, let your concerns out. "I'm really worried about you," you added, speaking faster than you planned. "Your back has been bothering you lately but you keep pushing yourself like it's nothing. It isn't nothing, Felix. You're hurting yourself, and I can't keep watching you do it." Felix quickly reacted. His natural instinct was to shut down and conceal his sensitivity. "I'm okay alright? There is no need to worry. You're overreacting," he said, his voice defensive.

But it wasn’t enough. The words you had been holding in for days burst out. “No, it’s not nothing! Felix, you're in pain, and you keep pretending like it doesn’t matter. You think it’s not a big deal because you’re trying to push yourself to the limit what for? So you can impress someone? Or are you doing this for your fans?”

You shook your head, stepping closer, trying to make him understand. “You’re not invincible, Felix. You can’t keep doing this to yourself. I’m scared you're going to hurt yourself in ways that can’t be undone. I can’t just sit here and let you destroy yourself because you won’t listen to me."

But Felix wasn’t hearing it. Instead, frustration poured out of him. “I know my body better than anyone else, okay? Stop treating me like I’m fragile. I can handle this! You don’t get it. I can’t slow down, I can’t—” He broke off, his voice rising. “I don’t want to slow down! This is my dream, my life! I can’t just sit back and stop because you’re worried about me.”

The words hit you like a slap. His persistence, his desire to keep pushing himself, felt like a personal rejection of your concern for him. He was dismissing whatever you said, as if your concern was just an irritation to him. The pain welled up inside you, and before you could stop yourself, the words poured out. "Do you know what, Felix? Fine. Maybe I'm the one who doesn't get it. Maybe I'm too worried. Maybe you're right. You don't need anyone to watch out for you. Maybe you truly do know best, even if it is hurting you!" You took a sharp breath, the anger now fully bleeding into your words.

Felix froze, his body tense as he absorbed the sting of your words. For a long moment, the room was filled with silence, thick and suffocating. He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. And with that, you took a step back, your voice quieter but bitter. "So, who am I to say anything? I'm just too worried, right? Someone who has no idea what is best for you. Fine. Do what you want. It's not like it matters anyway."

You stormed out of the room before Felix was able to react, leaving him taken aback and speechless.

The next morning, Felix woke up to the weight of the argument hanging over him. He tried to shake it off, tried to focus on work and rehearsals, but everything felt like a blur. His body ached more than usual, and his mind kept replaying your words. He knew he had hurt you. Deeply. But he didn’t know how to fix it.

At work, he tried to focus on the task at hand, but your face kept flashing through his head, your words becoming louder with each passing instant. You were only trying to help, to make him see that he was worn out, but he had pushed you away. He had been so headstrong, so determined to prove something, that he had neglected to care for the one thing that truly mattered: his relationship with you.

He saw you as he was leaving for a meeting and walking past your desk. You were staring at your screen, eyes red-rimmed and visibly upset, when it hit him like a ton of bricks. You were still hurting, and it was his fault.

Felix approached you gently, his chest tense with regret. "Hey," he whispered quietly, just above a whisper. You didn't look up at first, too proud or hurt to recognize him, but Felix stretched out and gently touched your arm. You looked up, and for just a moment, the vulnerability in your eyes cut through him. "I'm really sorry," he murmured, his voice shaking. "I shouldn't have said those words. "I was just... I was being an idiot. I know you were just trying to help, and I should have listened. I shouldn't have shut you out."

You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself. "Felix… I just want you to be okay. I don't want to keep watching you hurt yourself when I know you're struggling. I care about you, and I can't just sit there and pretend it's not happening." Felix's stare softened, and he took a step closer, putting his hand on yours. "I care about you, too. I was stupid to push you away. I will take better care of myself, I promise. I don't know what I'd do without you. Please never believe that I don't appreciate you looking out for me."

You sighed, the weight on your chest starting to ease. “I’m just scared, Felix. I’m scared that one day, I’ll watch you do something irreversible, and I won’t be able to stop it.” Felix’s grip tightened, a vow in his voice. “You’ll never have to. I’ll listen from now on. I’ll let you help me. I just… I just need you with me.”

The air between you both seemed to calm. You let out a shaky breath and squeezed his hand back. “We’ll get through this together. But you have to promise me you’ll take care of yourself too.”

Felix nodded, his eyes locked onto yours with sincerity. “I promise.”

You leaned in and wrapped your arms around him in a tight embrace. Felix hugged you just as tightly, his heart lightening with relief. Despite the hurt and the argument, you both had a quiet understanding that would help you navigate the future together.

//

masterlist

[seat-safety-switch]

Here's the thing about kids: they'll work really hard, for not a lot of money. Child labour has been an essential component of the gettin'-stuff infrastructure since children were invented, and I figured it was high time I got my cut, too.

As opposed as I am to private high schools (they cost money,) I can't resist a chance to convince my parole officer I am indeed applying to jobs. And so it was that fateful morning when I got hired to replace Ms. Nettles, the former drama teacher, after she got in her Gremlin X and left the country entirely rather than do another minute of educating the leaders of tomorrow. The pay was shit, sure, but "theatre teacher" sounds a lot better in a courtroom than "freelance scumbag."

For the first couple days, it really wasn't that bad. Band/drama kids, like when I was in high school, were largely self-organizing. They built their own sets. They read the textbook and did their own exercises. They didn't complain too much when I told them that my "method" was to sit in the dimly-lit back of the room, put on dark glasses, and sleep while they worked hard to rehearse the big play. As far as they knew, all this was normal. Until it wasn't.

On the night of the big play, I dressed up. I did the gladhanding. The principal in particular was greatly impressed, telling me that he has heard fantastic things about my students and I was likely to be lifted aloft as a god of entertainment, eligible for a $0.25 cent per hour raise (not including grading, prep, and commute time) and revered forever. Just as long as the class production of Atlas Shrugged went off without a hitch.

Here's the thing about child labour, though: it's cheap for a reason. Turns out, without me being there to teach them what to do, the kids actually read the book. And then they got mad at each other about the book, and they decided to do their own version. If I had been awake at any point during class over the last four months, I probably could have stopped the development of, or at least the staging of, Atlas Fucked.

Things could have gone worse. I managed to pivot blame onto their free-thinking history teacher, who was no doubt filling their minds with Communist indoctrination, and slipped out the back door. A new drama teacher would replace me, ready to put on a production where the kids (and by extension their parents) could be told the things they already believed. I didn't leave empty-handed, though. In addition to the meagre salary I extracted, I also got to loot the principal's office while he was busy watching the show. Got a pretty nice stapler.

[candysparks]

Imagine Demon! Reader x Neglected! Wayne x Neglectful! Batfam

[This is the prologue for what might be a series. Also this does involve a Wayne Oc. This is NOT proof read, so sorry for any grammar/spelling mistakes I make] There is another part for this Imagine if you wanted to check that out as well! Just click [This]

[Warnings for Death, cult talk, blood sacrifices and all that jazz, child neglect, demon stuff]

So basically what I'm thinking of at the moment is Neglected! Wayne is Bruce's bio kid from some one off fling. He fools around and has a one night stand with this really pretty woman and she ends up pregnant, but doesn't tell him. Months go by and she's the proud mother of one healthy, rambunctious, baby who she lovingly names Percy.

But wait! Since she's a prominent business woman so she has to have a rival who wants her to fail. This rival won't get a name, but they use her pregnancy against her by claiming she's been sleeping around so her reputation takes a slight turn. This, of course, isn't enough to bring her reputation or her business down so the rival takes a step up.

They get in contact with some shady people who start messing up her business. Just some light vandalism to ward off people from working with her. One night they break into the building and smash some stuff, just to get her scared, but it ends up going so wrong.

You see, it was a long day at work and she was just swamped with paperwork so she had to stay late. Of course Percy, freshly aged 9, was working on some homework right next to her because he loves his mother and can't stand being part from her more than necessary.

[And when I say Percy loves her, I mean he admires her the most in the whole world. If anyone where to ask who his hero was he wouldn't say Batman, or Superman, and he might say Wonder Woman if he gave it some more thought, but to him? His first instinct would to say "My mom!" much to her delight.]

But now you might be thinking, where does Demon! Reader come into this whole thing? Well as it would turn out, one of the people who broke in was a paranoid person with a trigger happy finger, and the other was ragging cultist who was just looking for a reason to try out this new cursed tomb he got.

Percy decides he needs to get up and stretch, get his legs moving. It's like his mother always said 'Sitting in one spot for too long leads to a slumped mind, and a curved back' so it was better for him to get up and move his legs once in awhile.

But what's this? The paranoid robber happens to turn the corner just as Percy opens the door and BAM! Percy's mother, who was standing right behind him, falls to the floor and starts bleeding out. Percy freaks out and tries to put pressure on the wound, just like those books he liked to read said to do.

Her blood is everywhere, its all over his hands, his shirt, oh god it's all over him and it wont stop. The robber is also freaking out. He just shot this woman and her child was right there, he felt so so bad about it all.

And then the other one turns the corner and gets a good look at what's happening. So he pulls out his phone and makes a few calls before turning to his partner who was still freaking out, leaving Percy to hear his mothers final words before she goes limp.

The cultist decides 'Yo this is a great time to test out this blood sacrifice page in this wicked old tomb!' and knocks Percy out and drags away his mother. Of course he can't just leave Percy behind, no that would cause unwanted issues because Percy is now a witness, though the robbers forget about the security cameras entirely.

So they shove the two of them in their get away van and instead of driving back to their boss they end up at an unused warehouse. The cultist one gets right to work, drawing out this huge elaborate circle with the mothers blood. Of course he lights some candles, but to make it all the worse he uses drops of Percy's blood instead of his even thought it's what the book says not to do.

The circle glows red and out pops Demon! Reader. Of course this is also the moment Percy wakes up and is rightfully horrified to know he's bleeding from his hand, and Percy is a smart kid so he can put two and two together. He knows his blood was used along with his mothers. Tears are falling from his eyes now because he can't seem to wrap his mind around everything fast enough.

This gets Demon! Reader's attention and so they end up shoving past the two robbers and sits in front of Percy. Demon! Reader is simply fascinated with this crying child. It's not every day a demon sees a living child, especially one that's so full of life and is currently crying.

Doesn't help that Demon! Reader can feel the blood bond between them. Demon! Reader can't hurt Percy, even if they wanted to, due to the fact that the cultist used Percy's blood in the summoning. Just demon things, you know?

This of course, pissed the cultist off and so he starts shouting. Though the shouting and insults don't really bother Demon! Reader, they can tell it's bothering Percy. So they do what they always do and simply devours the cultist.

Buuut that freaks out the other robber so he tries to shoot at Demon! Reader but that obviously doesn't work. So Demon! Reader eats him too! Percy has long since passed out due to the shock of it all, so Demon! Reader changes into the form of a cat and snuggles right up to him.

Demon! Reader can tell they're going to enjoy being tied to this human child. They've already taken it upon themselves to raise them into a strong and healthy person.

[Just gonna flash forward real quick and list out some stuff that happens.]

Percy gets discovered all alone in the warehouse and sent to the cops cause he's covered in blood. Demon! Reader gets to go along because Percy refuses to let go of them and they're still in cat form. Blah blah Percy gets sent to an orphanage who doesn't really care about him but notices the cat that's stuck to him like glue and that his eyes are very similar to Bruce Wayne. They do a blood test and gets shocked that he is a Wayne and then they ship him off to the Wayne Manor.

Though at this point in time Bruce is too busy with mourning the loss of Jason to properly take care of, or even look at, Percy. Then Tim comes along and he get's too busy with bat stuff, and then so does everyone else. Dick doesn't pay attention to them either cause he's always in Blüdhaven and all that jazz. But that's okay cause Percy has Demon! Reader and Alfred to look after him.

Then comes Damian and it all goes to shit from there. Damian, being Damian, pulls a sword on Percy to try and fight him for the title of blood child or whatever. Percy gets cut, right along his left hand [his right hand is the one with a cut from the summoning] and starts to panic because he knows what Demon! Reader would want to do in revenge.

So Percy runs off to his room and does everything he can to keep Demon! Reader from flipping the fuck out and throwing hands with a literal child. But that only makes Damian think less of Percy, seeing him as a coward who only runs away instead of fighting back like a "true" Wayne.

Percy is at least 16 at this point, so he decides to throw caution to the wind and GTFO, much to Demon! Reader's delight. But what's this? Everyone is taking an interest in this forgotten Wayne and don't want him to go.

But who is this stray cat that keeps following him around the manor? And his weird/feral friend who constantly wears a red headband that has demon horns and has a bad habit of biting people? No, no, this simply won't do, Percy needs to make new friends, better friends.

Or better yet, forget the friends, Percy needs to stay with his "Family" and not run off into the big scary world all alone. Moving? Why would Percy move when he has a home at the Wayne Manor?

Cue Demon! Reader flipping their shit and trying to convince Percy to let them kill get rid off his annoying "family" so they can finally travel the world like they'd planned.

[And that's all I can think of at the moment. But just to clear up some stuff, Demon! Reader adores Percy like their own child. And due to Demon customs, Demon! Reader has taught Percy all about being a demon. From how to fight his battles with his own nails and teeth to even manors and habits of demon kind. In this AU Demons are very clingy and affectionate with their family, similar but also different dynamics compared to a wolf or a cat pack. The Strong protect the weak and all that jazz, and in Demon! Reader's eyes Percy is weak but has potential to be strong. So Demon! Reader mother cat's him, picking him up by his 'scruff' when they feel he's in danger, or that he's been away from them for too long.] [If you have any questions about this au, or if you wanna request some more lore/character stuff, my ask box is open!]

[southwestchili]

Gunpoint! ☠︎︎

Robber! Toji x Gas station worker! Reader

Synonpsis: Yikes! you are being held at gunpoint by some big buff guy in a mask, this isn't good. All you wanted to do was work your shitty cashier job and now your being put through this? Your night couldnt get any worse, but, maybe you arent so unlucky after all..

Tags: Reader is AFAB!, Dark content, dub-con, mask kink, fear play, gunplay, blowjobs, doggy style, toji is not a good guy in this, name calling, hair pulling, raw sex, breeding kink if you squint, spanking like twice.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆⋆༺𓆩

You're an overworked and definitely underpaid college student who works at the local gas station off one of the roads near campus. Your job isn't hard; all you really do is check people out stupid questions and have to deal with the occasional crazy person. Other than cleaning, restocking, and running the cash register, your job is fairly simple. The only problem is the fact that your manager loves giving you the night shifts.

Now, you wouldn’t mind this job if the pay was better, but you're always worried about what might happen—what if one night, someone decides to rob the store? You always rationalize these thoughts with logic, thinking about how people don't rob stores like that nowadays, right? Wrong. This particular night everything was running smoothly; the occasional late-night customers would set in. You're just doing your job as usual, checking people out and restocking shelves. It's late at night; the clock reads 11:20 pm. A customer walks in, and the door opens with a ding. Your eyes look over to the figure entering the store; you greet them with a warm smile and a casual wave. The man that enters is wearing a ski mask, and that's your first red flag. It's a bit chilly out, but not nearly as cold to be wearing one of those. You swallow nervously at the thought of potential danger, your trying to keep a level head. But to add the cherry on top, you're all alone in the store with this man. That would be very cliché of a robber to actually be wearing a ski mask… you think, trying to brush away those thoughts. The man walks up to the counter and rests his hands on the counter. "Hey miss, can I' get a scratcher? The $10 one, please." The mysterious man asks coolly, locking eyes with you. "Yes, sir, I'll go ahead and grab that for you," you say as you bend down slightly under the counter to grab the ticket for him. This guy is odd; he walks into a gas station at 11 pm, wearing a ski mask, to buy a scratch-off ticket? You grab the ticket, and as you tilt your head back up to meet the man, you're met with the muzzle of a gun. Your eyebrows knit together, and you are washed with fear. You put your hands up; you don't know what to do; you've never been held at gunpoint before! "Don't want to waste my time, doll. Make this easy for me and just empty your register, hmm?" He hums at you. You scramble to open the register and remember you literally can't. Your face goes white as you remember that it will jam sometimes. You try to swallow due to your throat being dry. Your eyes start to get watery. You don't know how to deal with this; are you just supposed to tell him that you can't get it open? "Uhm... It won't… open…" You manage to mutter out. You give the man with the gun a pathetic expression. Your face is pale, you're shaking, tears are threatening to fall, and you're utterly helpless right now. The man's patience is starting to run thin. "You better figure it out, doll. M'not leaving here without anything." He says sternly, holding the gun to you; the muzzle is pressing into your shoulder now.

You're grabbing onto the register and starting to shake it; thankfully, the bottom compartment opens, and you sigh in relief. You start gathering the money and placing it into piles. The man just observes you. He's never seen anyone so obedient before; he's definitely intrigued by you. You finish piling the money and give him a look of pleading. You're scared of what happens next. You hope he just takes the money and goes. But it's never that simple. Once the money is stored in the bag, his attention shifts to you. "You're pretty obedient; I like that." The man speaks up, and you're caught off guard. "I, uh... I guess so?" You say your eyes trying to meet his. His head tilts to the side, and he scratches his head with the gun in his head. You don't know why this psycho is trying to make small talk with you after just robbing you. This is absurd, but honestly? You've been so caught up in fearing this man that you haven't gotten a good glimpse of his toned body. His compression shirt and sweatpants definitely don't leave anything to the imagination. If he wasn't robbing you, you totally would want him to do unspeakable things to you. Your eyes trace his body until you're snapped out of your trance by metal against your forehead. "You done fuckin' me with your eyes?" He taunts; he moves from his spot and goes around the counter. Your heart is beating so fast you can hear it in your ears. As the man gets closer and closer, you feel as if it was getting harder to breathe. "You're as pale as a ghost doll. M'not gonna hurt cha'...unless you want me to.." The man is now right in front of you; he's leaning down to meet your level, and his hand is cupping your cheek. Tears are still threatening to fall. You're biting your lip anxiously. "C'mon, don't cry… You don't wanna make me feel like a bad guy, do ya'?" He coos. You blink at him, and your bottom lip trembles. You don't know what to say to him, so you just shake your head and look into his eyes. "Hmm... What should I do with you?" He says moving so he is standing up fully. You tilt your head to meet his eyes. "Wanna have some fun with you before your shift ends..go on and turn that closed sign on f'me yeah?" He says, You just know this bastard is smirking right now. You know what's coming up. You know what he's insinuating, so you comply. You turn around and flip the illuminated sign outside to say 'closed' and all the gas prices on the sign in front. You flip most of the lights off in the store except for the one above the two of your heads to make the store look vacant.

You can feel two pairs of eyes piercing through you from behind, so you face the man. His eyes are hungry, and he steps forward and grabs your chin and pulls his mask up a little before leaning in to give you a sloppy kiss. You kiss him back. This feels downright nasty; you're making out with the same dude that was holding a gun to your head not even five minutes ago. The kiss feels so sinful; his tongue is swirling around your mouth, and yours is trying to make its way into his. But this man just won't let that happen. You can feel a little roughness at the corner of his lips, and you wonder what it is. His hands slide their way down to your throat; he's not applying pressure, but he is just keeping it there. He pulls away from you, and there is a line of saliva connecting you two. He quickly pulls the mask back down before you can get a proper look. You feel two rough hands on your shoulders pushing you down, and you sink to your knees. You watch as he lazily slides his sweats down, and you eye his large cock. His tip is angry and red, and there is a bit of pre-cum spilling from the tip. You take the base of it into your hands, and you lick the top of it. You watch as he reaches over to the counter to grab something. Your view is obstructed, but you're soon reminded of what it is by the familiar metallic sensation on your forehead. Is this guy nuts? you think as you look up at him with a worried look. "Aw... What's that look for, doll? Just makin' sure you do a good job," he says, petting your head. "Keep your eyes on me the whole time; if you don't... well, then… there's gonna be some consequences. And don't cha even think about usin' any teeth either, you got me?" He says, narrowing his eyes, he has a solemn tone. You try and say yes, but you're cut off by him forcibly shoving his cock in your mouth. You look up at him, and you do your best to suck him off. You're being extra careful not to use any teeth. You're keeping your pretty little eyes on his the whole time. This whole situation is so disgustingly lewd and just downright horrible. You can't believe you're sucking off the man who can easily just kill you right here, right now. You hate to admit this, but you're pretty turned on by that fact. Your focus remains still on giving him head. Your tongue is swirling around his tip. And you make sure to jerk off the rest of what doesn't fit into your mouth. You bob your head up and down his shaft, his cock head hitting the back of your throat, making your eyes water. Your tears run down your face, smudging your mascara. You would have worn waterproof if you had known you were gonna suck off a robber. You gag around his length. He grabs the back of your hair that was already in a ponytail and fucks into your mouth. You can feel his cock pulsing into your mouth, and you can hear him starting to breathe louder. He groans a little before cumming down your throat. "Swallow f'me like the good, obedient slut you are." He commands, and you oblige. "Show me; stick out your tongue." He gives you another command, and you follow. You stick your tongue out at the man, and he removes the gun from your forehead, setting it onto the counter again.

"Such a good girl, how about I give ya a reward, hm?" The man looks down at you. You really want to see what he looks like under that thing; you can only imagine how handsome he is. You nod your head before you hesitate to ask him, "Sir... can I? Maybe... see your face? M'not gonna tell anyone, I promise. I just wanna see.." You manage to ask the man in front of you. He gives you a puzzled look, as if you had asked him the most outlandish question. He scoffed and then pulled the mask off his face. You blinked at the sight of a black-haired man with one of the most handsome faces you think you had ever seen. You focus your gaze on the scar that adorns his lip, and you remember feeling it when you made out. You take in his sculpted jawline and how complete his face looks now that you can see the whole thing. "You done starin'? You're makin' me uneasy, doll." He says, smirking. Oh, that smirk is gonna kill you. You bite your lip at him and give him a nod and a quick sorry. But you're not; how can you be sorry for just admiring the absolutely gorgeous man in front of you? "You wanna get fucked now or what? I bet you want it more than anythin' am I right?" The man grabs your face before forcing you to flip around and grab onto the counter for support. You feel as he pulls your skirt off and he peels your panties off. It's embarrassing how utterly wet you are. You feel a harsh smack get landed onto your pussy and look back to the man behind you admiring you. He gives you a smirk before he lines himself up with your hole and pushes himself in all at once. How rude. He goes slow at first, allowing you to adjust to his size. He starts to gradually pick up the pace. Grabbing into your hips and leaving little marks on the soft flesh. You feel great. He's fucking you so dumb you almost forget about the whole being held at gunpoint situation until you see his gun lying right next to your head. You feel him getting rougher with you. You've never been fucked this good in your life. "Hah— fuck! Fuck! Mister! You're fucking me so…good! Don't stop!" You babble, drool slipping past your lips and onto the counter. that you will have to clean. "Fuck…call me Toji doll, you deserved it." The man now known as Toji says. "Oh! Fuck! Toji right there!" you moan; you hope no one can hear you from how loud you're being right now. "Fuck Toji- Gonna cum...You're hitting that—ah!" You gasp as you feel a harsh smack to your ass. "Nuh-uh, you're not cummin until I say you are, girl." Toji punctuates his sentence with a harsh thrust. You see the gun leave the counter, and you can only imagine what he's about to do. You clench your eyes shut, and you feel a cold sensation on your clit. Is this motherfucker rubbing a gun on your clit right now? "Ah! Fuck! Been so good for you, Toji-! Wanna cum! Please, please let me…" you beg the man behind you. "Since you asked so nicely, I'll let you... and I'll even give you a bonus. I'm gonna cum deep inside yer pretty pussy here, gonna claim her for myself." Toji says he is getting close to his high, and as you clench your walls around his cock, he knows it's over. The gun's muzzle rubbing against your clit sends you over the edge. You cry out as you cum around Toji's cock. You can feel him cumming too; the hot sensation of his sperm inside you leaves you dizzy. The gun's movements come to a halt, and Toji pulls out. But he makes sure not one drop of his cum is wasted, and he pulls your panties up, making sure it's secure. Your legs are wobbly, and you watch as Toji pulls his pants up. "You tell anyone 'bout this and I'll actually blow your brains out, rather than fuckin 'em out, you got me, doll?" Toji says, pulling on his ski mask, grabbing his gun and the money he stole. He leaves the store and you behind with his cum between your legs and a ruined standard of men for the rest of your life. Maybe this job wasn't so shitty after all.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆⋆༺𓆩

This was lowkey a really weird thought i had but i think its pretty fire tbh.

[clarkeybabey]

❝ playing my heartstrings like a rock star ❞

# summary; you're messing with his feelings and he doesn't understand why

# playlist; hey arthur!, arthur hill, think i'm in love with you, chris stapleton, please notice, christian leave

# word count; 1.9k

# note; i needed a happy ending my first fic on here cant be angst<3 I did not proofread this so sorry

The three boys sat in their sitting room, a comfortable silence lingering as they scrolled through their phones. "Arthur wants to know if we're going to come to the pub with him," George finally spoke up, looking to his friends and mentally crossing his fingers they'd agree. They deserved it after the week they've had.

Arthur chews the inside of his lip waiting for Chris' reply, not wanting to be the one to reject the invitation, but he knows you'll be there after your earlier text about going for drinks.

Chris shrugs laying his phone down next to him, "I don't see why not," both he and George stand, heading in the direction of their bedrooms to grab sweaters and shoes, assuming everyone is down.

When they disappear from sight, Arthur finds himself groaning, pressing his palms so hard to his closed eyes that he sees stars dotting his vision when he eventually opens them. It's not that he doesn't want to see you, he knows that when he does he can't resist the later idea of going home with you and he hates himself for it.

"They can't know," you always say, referring to your shared group of friends, "it'll throw off the dynamic, you can just come to my flat for the night on the weekend." You're grown adults, who cares what you get into when you're alone? He doubts anyone would really care as much as you think, but every time he tries to express that someone ends up with their feelings hurt, and 99.9% of the time they're his.

He makes his way to his room, spending more time than he cares to admit trying to find the cologne he knows is your favorite. His closet's a mess, but he finds the jumper you love to steal kicking himself for trying so hard as he throws it on over his old t-shirt. He stands in his bathroom pulling a baseball cap on to cover how flat his hair had become from lying on the couch for the last two hours.

Chris is yelling something from the kitchen about how he's worse than a woman about his looks, he can't find it in himself to care enough to think of a witty reply, instead just shoving his hands deeper into his pockets.

their bar of choice isn't far so they decide walking is the better and cheaper option, the walk is quick, and he stays a few paces behind his friends with music playing in his airpods as he gives himself a pep talk preparing to see you.

You sit at the bar with Becky and Arthur chatting about everything and nothing all at once, "You know, babe, I still need to get you on see it off, George and both Arthurs have nominated you now," she remarks, smirking as she brings her pint to her lips, you look to Arthur whos nodding along with her.

As the three of you chat, you're practically yelling over the people around you, "Let me know a date and we'll get it sorted," you smile, Arthur pipes up about needing the toilet and slips off his stool heading off in the direction of the restrooms.

As soon as he's out of sight, she scoots into the seat he once inhabited with her brows raised, "Anything new with you and Mr Hill?" You sigh, dreading having to answer that question, "There won't be anything new ever I don't think, I've made it clear how bad of an idea we are," your stomach turns at your own words, suddenly feeling a wave of nausea wash over you.

It wasn't like you didn't want anything other than to be with him, but everyone was so close and the what if's shadow how good the relationship could be.

What if something bad happens and you can't spend time together as a big group any longer? What if you couldn't film together? What if you had to listen to songs written about how bad of a girlfriend you were? She groans, her head falling onto her crossed arms, "You're so doubtful, darling. Give him a shot, he's such a sweet boy, especially to you." She sounded exactly like your mum when you told her the same thing after he came home with you one weekend. Sighing you continue, "I've never met someone like him-" You're cut off suddenly as rough hands slap over your eyes, "Guess who," George Clarke and his atrociously fake, heightened voice are quite unmistakable, you shove his hands away, giggling, and spin on your stool.

Your heart thumps against your chest, rattling your ribcage knowing there's no chance he and Chris showed up without the one person you've been waiting all week to see, sure enough there he is, though he's not even looking in your direction instead his eyes are glued to his phone screen with both headphones in, obviously not wanting to be here in the slightest.

You greet the boys not really paying any mind to anything being said, keeping your attention on Arthur the whole time. finally, once the four of your friends are distracted, you slip off your barstool and join him at the table he was sitting at alone, "You alright?" your question hangs in the air as you sink your teeth into the plush of your lower lip, "Fine, thanks," he replies dryly going out of his way to seem as uninterested as possible.

Scoffing, you snatch his phone from his hand, pausing whatever was playing on his Spotify, "Talk to me, please? I missed you." His eyes soften at your words as he fights with himself not to give in to you too easily, "missed you too," he mumbles as he picks at the skin on his fingers anxiously wanting to spew all the thoughts he's having about the two of you. Together.

Luckily for him, you beat him to it, "I wanna be with you," your words are lost to him at first as he sputters, not truly believing what he's just heard. He hates the way you can read his mind, "Like, seriously, I mean it, but we can't" he shakes his head bitterly, thinking this has to be some sort of sick joke you and Becky had strewn together.

"Do you know how many times I've heard that, y/n? I mean, seriously, tell it to someone else." He sounds so dismissive, and it hurts, but nothing hurts as bad as the sight of tears welling up in his pretty eyes. You just sit there, looking at him blankly with a lump forming in your throat, searching his eyes for something other than what he's said, but you can't seem to find it.

You scoff sliding his phone across the table back to him, "Right, sorry," you nod biting at the skin on the inside of your cheek, you turn on your heels and Arthur hates the look that you give him over your shoulder as you wrap your arms around yourself, like you see right through his attitude into the deeper side of things.

When you return George is wearing the glasses you mistakenly left in now-drunk Becky's purse, faking your accent in the worst way you've ever heard, "Those are prescription, you're gonna hurt your eyes," you sigh shaking your head, doing your best to smile. You pull them away from his face by the bridge, folding them to tuck into the v of your top, "Think 'm gonna get going," you mumble, avoiding everyone's eyes as the laughter dies down.

"So soonnnn?" Becky pouts jutting out her bottom lip for good measure, tucking your phone into your back pocket, murmuring something about how you have to film in the morning. Your friends say goodbye as you go around hugging everyone, when you get to Chris he pulls you in and whispers into your ear, "Take Arthur with you, please? He's bloody miserable." His breath is hot and riddled with the smell of beer as it fans across your face.

From across the room, Arthur feels his blood run hot as Chris whispers something to you and his hand lingers on your waist for longer than he deems friendly or comfortable, rolling his eyes he nibbles at the dry skin on his bottom lip until he begins to notice the familiar metallic taste of blood linger on his tongue. Nothing about this evening was going well and it just seems like lives trying to get back at him for something he doesn't even know he's done.

He was too busy in his own head to notice your presence just next to him, "C'mon, my uber's waiting," nearly falling off his stool as your words snapped him from the trance he was in, "Not up for it tonight," you scoff at his words, of course, he's thinking the opposite of what you had planned.

"Don't want you to fuck me, just wanna spend time with you," His brows raise involuntarily at your bluntness, a smirk playing on his lips, knowing you can't stay away just as much as he, boosts his confidence every damn time.

He doesn't find it in himself to reject you again, simply sliding off the still and interlocking your fingers, hoping to God every one of your friends is watching. As you make it outside your uber is in fact not there, he's about a mile out so you lean against the brick wall, Arthur's close proximity looming over you, "What was Chris on about?" Your drooping eyes shoot open, and the jealousy in his voice makes you smirk, seeing an opportunity to toy with him, just a bit,

"What's it to you," you shoot back, arms crossed over your chest he steps closer suddenly invading your space, his cologne which so happens to be your favorite begins to cloud your nose and mind as your chest rises and falls, adrenaline coursing through your veins. "You know exactly what it is to me, sweetheart."

His thumb and forefinger grip your chin forcing you to meet his eyes, the rings of his hands are cold against your heating face, "If 'm going home with you, I suggest you share." Your breath hitches at the dominance that's suddenly radiating off him, you fight the urge to let your eyes roll back into your head as his breath fans across your face, instead letting them fall closed once more.

You swallow, once more allowing eye contact, "He thought you were miserable and I should take you home with me." The smirk on your face makes Arthur regret ever telling Chris and George about how he'd wanted to spend more time with you. "I want to give this a shot," he scans your face waiting for you to remind him how you shouldn't but you don't say anything else.

"You mean it," his thumb rubs circles on the exposed skin of your hip, you nod, knowing words would betray you, "Need to hear you say it," he sounds breathless, looking at you with hopeful raised eyebrows.

"I wanna be your girlfriend-" his lips meet yours before you can even finish your thought, both hands cupping cupping your face. A wolf whistle comes from your immediate left and he pulls away but doesn't step back, shielding you from view, though you see over his shoulder as both George and Arthur hand Becky what look to be ten-pound notes.