#he knows i like him because i told him years ago

[basicallyjeankirschtein]

lost and found - toji x reader x sukuna

chapter 8

summary: gojo is an asshole. sukunas there for you, though (and toji)

* ooc, MDNI, mentioned dubcon (between gojo and reader) because reader was under the influence, toji being shameless(and a freak), mentioned masturbation and dacryphilia

not proofread

masterlist. prev. next

you were shocked gojo would even think about bringing that night up. even more so hurt, you guys promised to never bring that up again. and to imply that you were hooking up with sukuna? that was disgusting.

two months ago when you were beginning to introduce shoko and utahime together, shoko invited you two to a party. gojo clearly wanted to tag along, so the two of you reluctantly agreed (with shokos approval, of course).

at the party, shoko and utahime obviously hooked up. everyone could see the tension between them, and you were happy for them. but that left you and gojo alone, and after coercing you to drink much more than you wanted, the two of you ended up hooking up, as well. gojo must’ve been jealous utahime was getting more pussy than him.

you don’t remember the night at all. you were way too drunk, but gojo could strangely remember everything. you didn’t know how, considering he claimed to also be drunk.

you were tired of this disrespect. you were known to be a compliant, quiet girl. you always let others take advantage and disrespect you, but you were honestly sick of it. you’ve had so many bottled up emotions over the years of letting people walk all over you, and you think it’s finally time you stand up for yourself.

you did not hesitate to block gojo. yea, maybe he’ll tell everyone you guys had sex or whatever, but it’s not like he had evidence. you’ll just say it never happened and use your scary dog privileges (sukuna) to make him back off.

could you consider sukuna someone you could trust? he told you if gojo ever did anything, he’d be there to help. so you did consider him someone you could trust, despite how scary he was.

someone delivered your shower products just as sukuna finally reappeared.

“sorry,” sukuna said in his usual (and insanely attractive) gruff voice.

“i told toji off. he won’t bother you anymore.”

you didn’t want to know what sukuna did to make toji stop, so you just smiled at him.

“it’s okay, really.” you said, trying to sound as appreciative as possible. “could you help me with the shower? and i know you told me not to pay you back, but im going to anyway-“

sukuna grunted, his face going red once more. is it hot in here? if it was, you didn’t feel it.

“help… you in the shower?”

you tilted your head, confused why he was acting so fidgety. “if you don’t mind… i just need you to show me which direction to turn the knob to make it hot-“ you felt stupid for asking. he probably thought you were an idiot.

“oh.” he coughed, quickly pushing past you to the bathroom,

“how hot do you like it?” he asked, his face turned away from you (much to your dismay).

“i want to feel like im boiling alive.”

sukuna snorted at your response. it was cute, causing you to laugh as well.

“it’ll take a minute to heat up, just yell for me if you need anything.” he told you, still avoiding eye contact as she made his way past you and to the door.

before leaving, he called over his shoulder,

“and i told you not to worry about paying me back.”

with that, he closed the door behind him, and once again, you were alone. you made sure to lock the door behind him, not wanting toji to waltz in again like he owned the place (well, he did).

you hummed as you stripped yourself, setting your clothes down beside the towel sukuna left for you by the sink. you hated putting on dirty clothes, especially after a shower, but it’ll have to do.

almost as if toji could read your mind, he knocked on the bathroom door. this caused you to jump, a bit shocked by the sudden noise.

at least this time he knocked.

“did sukuna leave you any clothes?” he asked, his voice deep and gruff. they both had that same almost scary tone to their voice, a roughness to it, yet you could somehow easily tell the two apart.

“um, no, it’s alright.” you yelled from behind the door, covering yourself up despite the door being locked.

“need a pair?” he asked. you glanced at your used clothes, biting your lip as you pondered if you should take him up on his offer.

“if you don’t mind?” you finally responded. you got no response, only the sound of footsteps fading away.

you wondered if he was leaving to get you clothes, or if he just did that to mess with you. you scrunched your face up in confusion, this guy was weird.

you shrugged to yourself, not expecting him to come back after the fifth minute. he must’ve just been teasing, what a weirdo.

you sighed, moving the curtain to the side so you could step in the shower, and then, of course, toji knocked. tool him long enough.

“i’ve got you some clothes, doll. sorry i took a while, was trying to find some old clothes that might be smaller so they’d fit.”

you blinked, still shocked he came back. you stepped out of the shower, wrapping the towel around you as you quietly stepped towards the door.

as if noticing you discomfort and hesitation, toji spoke up, “i’ll leave them for you out here if you’re too shy to take them from me.”

you didn’t know if he was flirting, teasing, or mocking.

but, you knew he left because you could hear the sound of his footsteps fading away once more.

you were quick to open the bathroom door when you couldn’t hear his footsteps anymore, a small pile of clothes (that were definitely too big) on the ground.

you practically slammed the door behind you after retrieving the clothes, terrified one of them would see you, whining when you noticed the size. this would definitely not fit. the boxers, at least.

it was nice of him to try to get smaller sizes for you, but god, he was huge. this wouldn’t fit anybody.

you decided that would be a problem for later you, and you should instead focus on showering before you used up of their hot water.

you stepped in, once again thankful for sukunas credit card buying you the shower supplies when your gaze turned to the mystical, definitely not safe, six in one bottle of shampoo and conditioner. what were the other four, you wondered…

as much as you’d love to keep these delicious strawberry scentened products, you thought you’d be doing them a favor by keeping them here. not only did sukuna pay for them, but they probably had some unknown chemicals creating a new disease in that six in one bottle. they’d have to suck up smelling like strawberries, you said to yourself as you made a mental note to throw out that bottle, maybe burn it. you’d be doing them a favor.

while you loved to take long showers, you were mindful of their water bill and only took as long as necessary (which was still long).

you stepped out, the bathroom was steamy, you weren’t visible in the mirror. you childishly drew a smiley face on the mirror, unable to resist with a giggle.

now, the problem.

the clothes.

you couldn’t even ask sukuna for a pair of his clothes, as he was just as big as toji. either way, they’d be falling off. but, it was better than used clothes, right?

you slipped the oversized t-shirt on, the material practically drowning you. it landed just above your mid thigh, making you look small in comparison.

while you disliked used clothes, you thought it would be best to throw your bra on under it. the neck of the shirt was so loose around you, if they were to look at you from a taller angle (which, they always are), you’d be flashing the poor men.

you however do NOT want to put back on your used panties. you didn’t know why, considering it was your pussy, but you disliked the idea of wearing the same pair of panties more than once without being washed. it was just one of those little things that grossed you out.

boxers were technically underwear, right? you thought to yourself, pulling the ridiculously large pair up. they barely clung to your hip, much to your dismay.

well, it would just be tonight. you thought, trying to wiggle them up higher, but they just kept falling down your waist and to your hips. at least the shirt covered you.

you stepped out of the bathroom, the overpowering scent of strawberries following you into the living room where both men sat on the couch.

“you smell nice,” sukuna spoke, his gaze immediately wandering to your toji’s clothes. you could see the faint envy in his eyes.

“thank you,” you said with a soft smile, “you can keep all that stuff. it smells nice and it’s way better than whatever that six in one concoction is..”

“are you saying that because you want us to keep it, or because you plan on coming here more often?”

the question sprung up by toji caught you off guard. once again, you couldn’t tell if he was flirting, teasing, or mocking. he always had that same somewhat malicious tone to his voice, but as you’ve come to know of sukuna, you think that’s just how he normally sounds- rather than being rude towards you.

“both…?” you decided to answer, a bit confused with both his question and your answer. you wouldn’t mind coming to see them more, they were nice, but you weren’t sure if toji meant it in a sexual way or not.

“then i suppose i can see you in my clothes often, too?”

oh, he was totally flirting.

it seems sukuna telling him off didn’t scare toji off for long, because here he was, shamelessly flirting with you infront of sukuna.

sukuna was definitely going to beat up toji.

sukuna, not wanting to scare you, decided to bring you to his room so he wouldn’t hear him and toji arguing. he made sure to let you know that you can sleep in his room, he’d just crash out on the couch. he said you were welcome to lock the door if you felt uncomfortable, god, he had too much trust in you for a guy you just met. you were going to protest, but he was quick to shut the door behind him. as usual.

you bit your lip, looking around his room. this was awkward, you thought. you didn’t want to be the reason the two were arguing.

you felt beyond guilty for even dragging sukuna into your own mess. you should’ve just dealt with gojo yourself, you shouldn’t have even accepted his offer to help.

was it sensitive of you to cry? maybe, but you were so pent up. you still haven’t properly accepted the fact that you just practically lost all your friends.

what you needed was a good cry, and thankfully for you, they were too busy arguing to hear your small, pitiful whimpers as you hugged yourself close, finally letting yourself go after having such a terrible day.

arguing over text when they were sitting right next to each other was a little funny. but when toji admitted he was also looking to an actual relationship with you, sukuna got angry. not even uraume could help them with this argument.

the two have never fought over a girl before, neither of them were the type to be in a committed relationship.

but now, it was different.

sukuna was sure toji was only claiming that because he hated when sukuna had something he didn’t.

the two argued that night, although both were mindful to keep it down so you wouldn’t hear. although, in the midst of their whisper-yelling, sukuna noticed the sound of your small sobs.

“shut up.” sukuna growled, glaring at toji as he turned to face his bedroom door. the sound of another sob alerted him that you were in fact crying.

“shit.” toji sighed, “you go check on her.”

sukuna was shocked toji was offering for him to do it, considering toji apparently liked you and everything. he gave toji a curt nod, making his way to his bedroom and knocking.

toji could hear sukuna say ‘can i come in?’ softly as he made his way to the bathroom, his gaze immediately shifting to your used clothes discarding on the sink.

toji heard the sound of sukunas door opening and closing, glancing over his shoulder every second to make sure neither of you were coming out.

he discreetly picked up your panties, a cute lacy pair with little pink bows on the side. he stuffed the cute thing in his pocket, swiftly returning to his room.

and that night, as sukuna comforted you and you cried about your misfortunate day, toji wrapped the pair of panties around his cock and thrusted to the sound of your cries.

he came fantasizing about how you would cry on his cock

sorry i got a little freaky there…

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[intheupside]

The story of Connor McDavid’s relationship with Sidney Crosby began when, as a boy growing up north of Toronto, he had a poster of No. 87 up on his wall.

Maybe, just maybe, the future captain of the Edmonton Oilers thought to himself, I’ll get to meet him one day.

Next month, that goal already having come to fruition more than a decade ago, McDavid’s dream will reach the next level.

“I think there’s an old saying that you should never meet your idol because you’ll be disappointed,” McDavid told NHL.com. “But that’s the furthest thing when it comes to Sid.

“To be able to watch him as a kid, to see what he’s done in this league, to be able to watch him throughout his entire career and now have the opportunity to have gotten to know him over the course of the last couple of years, to participate in camps with him and skate with him and build a little bit of relationship with him, well, the 8-year-old Connor would never have believed it. That being said, I couldn't be more excited to be his teammate, to be on the same ice with him, be on the power play with him, maybe be on a line with him, whatever it may be, just to get the opportunity to play on his team, it’s just so exciting.”

There is almost a child-like giddiness when he talks about Crosby, the sign of a mutual respect between generational players 10 years apart in age.

“Over the years, whether it’s playing against one another, skating at different camps, different things with the League, I’ve gotten to know him,” Crosby said. “He’s a great role model and, obviously, an unbelievable player.

“I’m just very excited for the opportunity to play with him.”

“It’s been a long wait to finally get this chance to be his teammate in best-on-best hockey,” McDavid said. “I can’t wait.”

[dark-night-hero]

Imagine, I kept thinking about a Kamisato Ayato in a modern day AU in which him and the reader were going through a divorce because things are not going the way it was supposed to be and the marriage is just not working out anymore. When suddenly, suddenly he had an amnesia.

Imagine instead of his mistress, it was you whom he kept looking for, demanding to see upon waking up after the accident. Leaving his mistress baffled and confused just as you are upon arriving at the hospital, hoping that little shitty of a husband dead only to find him demanding and desperately looking for you in the midst of this messy and chaotic moment.

"Anata." His voice soften in contrast to his shouts earlier before you enter the room, doctors, nurses and his mistress all inside. "Anata." He called out again but you just stood there as he desperately tried to call your attention. "Anata, who are these people inside the room? What's happening?" He called out and question you, you knew he was calling you because he was looking at you, not anyone but you. Which is pretty funny because he haven't called you that for years, ever since the marriage started falling apart.

"He must have hit his head pretty hard Doc." You spoke nonchalantly, not in the mood to deal with all this bullshit. "It's been years since he called me like that. Can someone explain to me what's happening with my husband?" "Husband? Then who-?" "His mistress." You replied. "As I'm saying- asking rather, can someone explain to me what happened to this guy over here?" "... Very well, Mr. Kamisato over here is involved in a car accident and had brain concussion. As we can see..."

Imagine walking into the room, not that you want to. But upon walking into the room, you are quite surprised to find him alone in there. You were quite expected him to have his mistress with him but turns out that was not the case. "Who's that?" "Who's who?" "That person who was here earlier calling me her lover." "Oh. Well she is exactly who she said she was, she's your lover." You answered, sitting on the sofa inside the private room. Looking away and pulling your phone to check out your notifications. Because goddammit, how dare he look so hurt by those words?

"She what-? Why? Tell me you're joking." You have never seen him look so confused before. Looking back and forth to the notifications on your phone and to the man right in front of you. You sigh, causing him to flinch. "The doctor told me you can be dismissed in two days because you're still under observation. And while you're current suffering from amnesia, they said there was still a possibility of you regaining your memories so don't treat her pretty harshly. I know it could be confusing at first but you'll het over it." You explain and then stood up, "Then, I'll get going now."

Imagine glancing at him only to see him look so broken, like he was waiting, begging for someone to wake him from his dream, from his nightmare. You look away, it's not like it hurts to see him like that. It stopped hurting years ago. Nevertheless, once again you sigh. "Anata-" "I can't have children." "It doesn't matter-" "Well it does now, Ayato." You smile softly at him. "And that explains everything." You added before turning your back at him and walking towards the door. "Oh right, please sign the divorce paper. You wouldn't want your future child to be labelled illegitimate, no?"

Imagine hearing him call out- scream after you but you just kept walking without looking back. You ignore his cries and call with all your might, and walking past the corridor, "Go on, comfort him." You said as you walked pass the woman. "I'm sorry." She said, sounding like she was about to cry and you couldn't help but to smile a little, "No, I'm sorry." You replied as you continue to walk your way out of the hospital.

Imagine going inside the car, your cachuffere already waiting for you inside. And in the middle of the ride, "Want to smoke?" "Nahh" You declined as you look at the city lights. "Are you sure you wouldn't regret this?" "What are you talking about." You chuckle. "He might remember everything one day." "He won't. And even if he did, he wouldn't be able to do anything by then." You answered. "He would hate you." "Then much better." You replied.

"Is it?" "Hmm?" "For the better?" Well in comparison to the amount of suffering he has to go through cause by his elders just because he has yet to produce a heir to the clan, questioning and criticising his title as the chairman and chief of the Kamisato clan, it would be much better to get rid of his one of only flaw. His spouse that couldn't give him a heir. Closing your eyes, this is nothing, "Yeah, for the better." I'm sorry, my love.

[ⓒdark-night-hero] 2025°

: I'm getting a hang of this crocheshit. Ily may pasok na ko bukas yawa ayoko na pumasok. Also, this imagine escalated real quick like no sht. I was writing this for fluff but???

[queensunshinee]

So sweet || Patrick Zweig x reader, Art Donaldson x reader

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Warnings: SMUT (p in v sex), drinking, mention of an eating disorder, again, I really don't know what's going on here. It's so weird. Just a small but important reminder: English is not my first language, so please don’t be mad if there are any embarrassing mistakes- I’m really trying my best!

Word Count: 7.3k

So sweet

Patrick wanted to know what is it about you that makes Art lose it. You're not the funniest, not the best at tennis—or at anything Patrick has ever seen you do, to be honest—and you're definitely not the prettiest. You're not the best. You're just not.

"She’s just so sweet," Art had said when the two of them were sitting in one corner of the Stanford cafeteria, and you were in another. Patrick didn’t see it; he thought you were scheming. That you were the least sweet person he knew. And because Art has known you for so many years, Patrick has known you long enough not to trust you. Who picks a college just because the guy she’s sleeping with also chose Stanford? Only a conniving witch. Someone who wants to pull Art away from him and Tashi. Someone who wants to pull Art away from his dreams. From tennis. Someone who wants Art all to herself. Patrick figured it out years ago. You can fool Art. Fuck it, you can fool yourself if you want. But you can’t fool Patrick.

And it doesn’t matter at all that you and Art have known each other since you were six. It doesn’t matter that all the evidence points to your parents being responsible for your academic choices. It doesn’t matter that it’s only since you got to Stanford that you started sleeping together; he never touched you inappropriately even once before college. Patrick didn’t like you before you two started having sex, so he sure as hell doesn’t like you now. You didn’t even bother to sit with them. You didn’t even bother to say a simple 'hi' to him. You don’t respect him enough to sit at the same table when he comes to visit Tashi and Art. You don’t respect him. Period.

“Do you think she’s ever eaten a burger?” Patrick suddenly asks, completely ignoring Art’s rambling about competitions and trying to inspect your plate from afar. He can’t see what’s on it, but he’s sure there’s nothing nutritious enough there. “I know for a fact she’s eaten more than one burger in her life,” Art rolls his eyes. “Why are you so obsessed with her?” he asks for the millionth time. He asked it every summer. He asked it after Patrick went on about how insane it was that you and Art were going to the same college.

“I’m not obsessed. I just think there’s no way her pussy smells normal with that diet,” Patrick says, earning himself a well-deserved elbow jab from Art. Art never talks about you that vulgarly. Art doesn’t talk about you much at all. That’s part of what annoys Patrick: that they can talk about any other girl, but with you, it’s never an option. Even about Tashi, he managed to talk to Art. He gave him the signal. He told him. But Art doesn’t share anything about what he does with you.

Patrick knows about Melanie from statistics that Art slept with. Patrick knows about Georgia or Regina or whatever her name is who works at the library and made it to second base with Art. He knows down to the exact books they leaned on. But he doesn’t know anything about you. Art keeps you to himself as if you’re some treasure he needs to guard at all costs. Patrick hates you and the broccoli you’re shoving into your mouth while reading a book, ignoring the outside world. You’re such a fucking smug witch. You won’t be able to fool him. . . . Art will never tell Patrick that there are moments when he thinks he loves you. Sometimes. Most of the time, he doesn’t. Most of the time, he knows he loves Tashi. The same Tashi that Patrick took for himself. Snatched her right out of Art’s hands.

But with you, it’s different. With you, it’s been building for years. You’re the one he smeared snot on when you were six, and somehow, you kept coming over to his house to watch cartoons with him. You kept showing up at the tennis court, reading a book while he practiced. You kept being an inseparable part of him.

Art knows you love him. It’s so clear to him, almost as clear as the fact that his first dog was named Jameson and that he died when Art was 8-years-old. You held his hand when he forced his parents to bury him. He didn’t want you to hold it, tried to shake you off for a few seconds, but you insisted. He never told you, but it felt nice.

Your first kiss was with Art. He insisted. Of course, he insisted. You love him so much, and you’re so, so sweet. Always polite and blushing at the right moments, and at 14, he kissed you. Explained to you that you couldn’t start high school without knowing how to kiss. He was doing you a favor. You said “thank you” afterward, like the polite girl you always were.

You kept kissing after that, as if it was the natural thing to do. Every time he came to visit in the summer and you’d come over. Every time he went to your place. You’d end your time together with his lips exploring yours. So sweet.

He will never tell Patrick that he knows you better than he knows himself. That he knows all your secrets just as you know all of his own. That sometimes he melts under your gaze and would be willing to tell you his ATM code if you asked. He will never reveal this to Patrick. Or you. He will never tell him that sometimes he feels like you’re such a deep part of him that you are simply him. And he is simply you. And when he thinks too deeply about that, he’s capable of barging into your lecture, telling the professor there’s been an emergency, dragging you into the janitor’s closet, staring for a second at your terrified face, and fucking you there on one of the shelves. Not that it happened. Maybe. He won't tell anyone.

And he will never give you the chance to go all in for him because it’s too terrifying. Because with you, he feels helpless, out of control, almost embarrassed. And because Patrick hates you. He’s never seen Patrick hate anyone as much as he hates you. And Art doesn’t think he can be in a relationship with someone Patrick doesn’t like. Which, in itself, is a crazy thought.

But Patrick loves Tashi, and Tashi has nothing sweet about her. No look that radiates tenderness or sweetness. She doesn’t smell like cinnamon and vanilla. She doesn’t have a soul that wants to share secrets with him. Tashi doesn’t look at him like he holds the moon. Tashi doesn’t look at him as if he could fill an empty space in her heart. Because she has no empty space in her heart. Tennis fills her heart. Tennis and Patrick. Art looks at her heart from the outside. He’s not a part of her story. He so badly wants to be part of her story. He thinks it's a need at this point.

And every time his mind fills with Tashi, he finds some random girl willing to stroke his ego (and his dick) just enough to make him forget. He never goes for the easy option; he doesn’t go to you. He only wants to be with you when he’s thinking of you. When you fill him so completely that he can’t breathe. When he physically needs you in front of him. Not when he wants someone else to touch him. Not when he wants Tashi Duncan so badly he could cry.

He looks at her and Patrick, unable to understand what she sees in him. What she finds in his best friend. The scatterbrained guy who doesn’t shower every day, who wears the same underwear longer than is acceptable, who snores while laughing, who eats whatever he wants, whenever he wants, like he isn’t trying to make a living as a pro. Like everything is a joke. Art doesn’t understand how Tashi can waste her time on a joke. . . . "What are you studying, Little Dove?" Patrick pulled out one of your earbuds when he found you tucked away in a corner of the library. He saw how you physically recoiled at the nickname he’d given you the first time you met. Not a nickname you liked. That only made him want to call you that enough times for it to be engraved on your gravestone when you die. For you to maybe one day think it was your real name. For it to become a part of you. Little Dove. He didn’t even know why he called you that. It wasn’t bad. It wasn’t good either. But it wasn’t necessarily bad.

"What are you doing here?" you replied, half-indifferent, reaching out for him to give you back the earbud he’d so brutally yanked. "Killing time. I had a fight with Tashi, so I can’t go to her match. Art’s obviously there because well, he’s in love with my girlfriend." He paused to study your reaction, wanting to see how you’d respond to the fact that Art didn’t love you. That he loved what belonged to Patrick, and you didn’t belong to Patrick, so he would never love you. Not really. Not entirely. "You’re the only person I know here. It’s your job to entertain me," he said, flashing a fake smile.

Everything about Patrick was fake. That was something you’d learned to be indifferent to years ago. Every time he jabbed at you or said something vulgar to disgust you, you knew it was fake. There was no point in taking him seriously. You pitied him the way you’d pity a little kid whose ice cream cone had fallen and no one was willing to buy him a new one. "I’m not a clown, Patrick. I have a test tomorrow," you said and snatched the earbud from his hand. He didn’t retaliate. He simply sat down across from you, examining you more intensely than you were comfortable with. His gaze pinned you like a scalpel. You tried to breathe evenly. He’s always like this. He’s always like this. Remember that he’s always like this, and everything will be fine. This is not the time to panic. Not in front of Patrick Fucking Zweig. He can’t win a war you’re not actively fighting.

"How’s life, Little Dove? Happy at Stanford with Art? Better now that he finally agreed to fuck you?" He was blunt to the point that it made you glare at him and wrinkle your nose for a second. That only deepened the smirk plastered across his face. "Do you need something?" you asked, trying to sound as though his vulgarity couldn’t faze you. As though everyone around you spoke that way all the time. As though your pathetic sex life wasn’t plastered on your forehead like a billboard. He was laughing at you. Patrick Zweig was laughing at you.

The thought that he might know every intimate detail of what you and Art did in bed made your entire body shiver. He could see it on you. He knew he’d won. But you weren’t even playing. You wanted to scream you weren’t even playing. No sound came out. He’d won. He knew it, and you knew it, and there would never be a draw again. Because you would both always know he’d won. That Art had told him how you moan. Maybe Art had even figured out that you fake all your orgasms because you’re probably broken so he told Patrick that too. Maybe it was all more humiliating than you could imagine. Maybe you wouldn’t be able to talk to Art ever again. Maybe-

"You’re overthinking it, Little Dove. I can see it on your face. It’s not that deep," he rolled his eyes and took a bite of an apple he’d pulled out (you had no idea from where). "You can’t eat in here. This is a library," you mumbled, grateful for the change of subject. Any change of subject. You’d be willing to talk about cactuses at this point if necessary. "I’m not a student here," he reminded you, as if you’d forgotten. As if that wasn’t the sole reason for your fleeting happiness- that you didn’t have to see his face here 24/7. Only sometimes. Only when he was visiting people who actually mattered to him.

You put the earbud he’d pulled from you a few moments ago back in your ear, signaling to him that the conversation was over and that you hoped not to see him again for the next year. Or ever, if you're being honest. You wanted to go back to studying in peace. To not think about the brazen guy in front of you. The one so emotionally entangled with the boy you loved that sometimes you felt there was no way to win. No way to beat Patrick Zweig. Because he came gift-wrapped in a package deal with Art. And once, you tried so hard to make him like you. You tried to fit into their conversations, laugh at the crude jokes, nod when Art nodded. Just so Patrick would stop looking at you with disdain, stop looking at you like you were a stray cat too wet to save. Like one that had rabies. Like one that needed to be put down.

He just kept staring at you, eating his apple as if rules didn’t apply to him. As if he were above what was allowed and what wasn’t. Making you hate him a little more, but admire him just as much because you would never have the guts to act like the world belonged to you. You thought it had something to do with the amount of money he grew up with. Art once told you Patrick had two pools (in one of his houses). Who needs more than one pool in a house anyway? But that was all you needed to know about him—he was privileged enough to believe he had the right to treat people like they were beneath him. And you’d never admit it, but you didn’t want to be beneath him. You didn’t want to lose to Patrick Zweig. You didn’t want to lose when you knew the prize was having Art. . . . He finds out that Tashi got injured completely by accident. He leaves you alone in the library because you bore him. You don’t let him sink his claws into you, something he realizes he liked doing only when he's around you. So, he goes out to smoke a cigarette, what else is there for him to do when he’s stuck here while Tashi plays and Art makes eyes at her from the crowd? What else does he have to do when you're sitting in front of a book and ignoring his existence and the nasty words? And then someone said something about seeing Tashi's knee fly through the air, and Patrick’s cigarette fell out of his mouth.

He asked three different people where the athletes' clinic was. Two ignored him, and one gave him wrong directions. He found the clinic on his own, trying to make sense of the campus signage. He felt like it was taking him forever. In hindsight, maybe it was better that it took him longer. Because Tashi looked devastated, Art looked lost, and both of them screamed at him. Art’s scream hurt more. He wouldn’t admit it, but he felt Art’s scream all over his body. It made him shiver.

And that’s how he lost Art Donaldson forever. Checkmate by Tashi Duncan. He didn’t expect that. He thought only you could take his place in Art’s life. Never Tashi. He thought you were the only one Art would lose control for. Maybe he looked at everything wrong. What a terrifying thought, to realize you spent years trying to beat someone without noticing the other players. Absolute blindness. He felt lost. Stuck in your disgusting university. Stuck in the loop that his life dragged him into. No matter how much he tried to think about it in the last half hour, he couldn’t find a way out. He couldn’t see a world where he and Art could be friends again.

‘I've got your bag, you forgot it in the library,’ his phone beeped with a message from you. Another message with your room number. He nodded to himself, even though no one could see. He wiped away some of the tears that had fallen from him, hoping no one would see that either.

He knocked on your door loudly, not caring about the other students living in the hallway. You opened quickly, intending to say everything you think about him, but in the hour and a half he’d been gone from your sight, something in Patrick’s gaze had changed. You’d never seen him like this, and it made you lean against the doorframe, mouth half open. You know for sure that he cried, the trail of tears was obvious. You know for sure that he was confused, his gaze zigzagging. The famous smirk he dedicates to you at every moment wasn’t there.

"Who died?" you asked quietly, because you couldn’t find any other reason for what you were seeing in front of you. He just passed through you, as if your room was his own. As if he had an invitation. As if you had to let him in. "Can I sleep here tonight?" he asked. His leg was shaking. He looked the worst you’ve ever seen him. "What happened to Tashi's room-" "Please (Y/N)," he used your actual name, "I’ll be out of your hair by morning. You won’t even feel like I was here, there are no more buses, and my car’s at the tournament site," he explained incoherently but clearly enough for you to nod. For you to understand that something terrible had happened. Bad enough that he couldn’t sleep at Tashi’s. Bad enough that he couldn’t sleep at Art’s. The thought of it made you cringe because the only thing that could have happened, the only thing that could have caused Patrick to fold in front of you like this-

"Am I overthinking this?" you asked after what felt like an eternity. When you were lying on the bed in the dark, and Patrick was lying on a makeshift pile of sheets and pillows on the floor next to you. You hoped he’d tell you that you didn’t need to think about it too much. That he’d tell you the same thing he said to you in the library. "Not this time," he said almost in a whisper, "I’m sorry," he added. Neither of you knew what he was apologizing for; For how he acted all these years or was he apologizing on behalf of Art? On behalf of the person who until just a few hours ago was his best friend. Patrick thinks an apology won’t be enough for either of you. He tries to sleep. When he leaves, he doesn’t write you a note. But there’s a flash of understanding when he looks at you before he walks out; Art was right, there’s something sweet about you. Patrick will never admit it. But what reason would he have to admit it now? Art is no longer part of his life, and he’s pretty sure Art won’t be part of yours just as quickly. You and Patrick both lost him, you just don’t know it yet. He almost feels sorry about how out of the loop you are. And what connection do you and Patrick have without Art? He thinks he’ll miss you. He saw you move slightly, one leg sticking out from under the blanket. He’s sure he’ll miss you. What a humbling thought. . . . You haven't seen Art for a week. And that's okay. Because he doesn't owe you anything. He made sure to remind you at every opportunity that he doesn't owe you anything. Not with words. Never with words. With actions. By acting like he doesn't see you, even though you both know he does. He never sat with you in the cafeteria. He never introduced you to his friends from the tennis team. He never introduced you to Tashi. He drew a very clear line about who you are to him, and you decided years ago that it's okay. That it's enough for you. That Art is yours in the summer. That Art is yours at night. That Art is yours when he wants to be yours.

He doesn't want to be anymore. You can see it in him because on the rare occasions you do see him in the cafeteria, he looks away the second your eyes accidentally meet his. On the rare occasions you do see him this week, his arm is half-wrapped around some girl you don't know. He's trying to tell you something without saying it out loud. Hurt you without really hurting you. He's trying to remind you that he doesn't owe you anything.

You'll never tell him it hurts. You'll never tell him that when you were ten, your mom, half-drunk, told you that to be loved, you'd have to sacrifice a lot. You don't know why you remember that, but you do. And since then, all you've done is sacrifice and sacrifice and sacrifice until sometimes there's nothing left to give. And now is one of those times when there's nothing left to give. You look at him from across the room, and he's a stranger to you, and you're a stranger to him.

You expected him to say something when it happened. You expected a hug, and if he were sensitive enough, a kiss. You expected life to flip upside down and for the sun to stop rising. But life went on, and your sacrifices stayed behind. Along with secrets and hugs and caresses and tears and memories. So many memories. All of it left behind. You can handle heartbreak. Everyone can. You won't be the first to sacrifice and not be heard by God. You won't be the first to starve yourself, and you won't be the first to wait for a phone call that never came. You won't be the first to cry and cry and cry.

After two weeks, you stopped waiting for a message. You stopped expecting a 'hello' in the hallway. You stopped hoping that Art Donaldson would knock on your door in the middle of the night. After two weeks, you looked at him one last time with pleading eyes. With an almost tortured look. After two weeks, you decided you wouldn't sacrifice anything more for Art Donaldson.

After two weeks, you ordered pizza and ate the whole box. He doesn't love you. He doesn't owe you anything. It's okay. You're okay. If not now, then soon you will be. . . . Art spent all his free time helping Tashi recover. He missed Patrick the way you'd miss a vital organ that had to be removed in an emergency surgery. He missed Patrick's messages from the tour. He missed his stories. He missed hearing him talk about a show Art had never watched and never planned to watch. He missed Patrick, but he had Tashi. He missed Patrick, but it was necessary, and one day he wouldn’t miss Patrick anymore, and he’d still have Tashi.

It’s different with you. He doesn’t just miss you—he’s hollow without you. He doesn’t know who he is without your admiring gaze. Without your nose brushing his in the middle of the night. He doesn’t know who he is without you ever since he learned how your skin feels under his touch. And he thought he’d be brave enough to walk into your room and just tell you that he can’t keep doing what the two of you have been doing your whole lives. He can’t keep playing this game. Because it’s not fair. Because he wants to be somewhere else. Because you weigh him down.

He knew he’d be in trouble if things got too serious with you, so he followed all the rules. He never introduced you to his friends. He never took you on a date. He never called you his girlfriend. He did everything right, and he’s still in trouble. That frustrates him more than anything.

He’s noticed that you don’t seek his gaze anymore. That you don’t try to catch his attention. That you’ve stopped sending him messages. He’s noticed that you understood the painfully obvious hint of “no,” and he hated himself for it. He showered that day for almost an hour. Scrubbed himself until his skin was red. As if trying to wash you off his body. As if trying to cleanse the filth he carries in his soul. As if trying to convince himself he’s not a bad person.

He found comfort in the fact that summer was almost here. That it wouldn’t be up to him. That there would be family dinners. That your parents would invite him, and his parents would invite you. That someone would force you both to be in the same room. He found comfort in knowing he wouldn’t have a choice. He didn’t want a choice. He wanted to see how you were handling it. He always sees you immersed in a book. Immersed in a conversation with someone he doesn’t know. Immersed. So immersed. Once, he thought that look -that ability to see into someone’s soul- was reserved only for him. How presumptuous of him. How foolish. How fucking selfish. . . . Patrick sent you a picture of a pigeon that wouldn’t leave him alone while he was eating pita on a bench in some park. He didn’t know why he did it. You’re not friends. You were never friends. But he saw that ridiculous pigeon and wondered if there was something about it that might remind you of him. He wondered if you and Art were still you and Art. He wondered and wondered until he sent the picture. Maybe you wouldn’t reply, but ignoring something wasn’t your style. You’re too good to ignore someone. You don’t have any malice in you. He doesn’t know when he started thinking you didn’t have any malice, because up until two months ago, he thought you were a scheming witch.

'You don’t know how to take pictures.' -(Y/N)-

'Look at you bothering me while I'm eating, little dove' -P- He smiled as he typed.

'Are you bored?' -(Y/N)-

'Maybe I miss you like you clearly miss me' -P- He didn’t know why he wrote that. He didn’t know what he wanted from you, if he was being honest with himself. But he wanted something. He wanted someone. Everyone deserves someone, and Patrick deserves someone too.

'You’re full of shit' -(Y/N)- He could imagine you rolling your eyes as you typed that. He knows you don’t talk like that. He thinks it’s something reserved just for him.

He decided to call because typing with food in his hand was too much effort. You answered quickly, out of breath. “Are you in the middle of sex?” he asked, unable to stop himself. “Why do you always have to say the grossest thing possible?” you shot back. He was glad you couldn’t see him because if you could, you’d hold the grin on his face against him. “What’s gross about sex, little dove? It’s natural-” “Why did you call?” you cut him off, not giving him any more points. “Just wanted to ask how you’re doing.” His voice sounded smaller. Embarrassed. You’re not friends. You never were. That’s not the nature of your relationship. There’s nothing he loves about you.

“I’m fine. Busy with school.” He could imagine you shrugging. “You’re going home soon, right? Summer break.” He knew what that used to mean for you and Art. He didn’t know what it meant now. He was fishing for answers, trying to figure out where things stood between you two. He wanted to know if Art had cut you out of his life with the brutality of a killer or if he was still keeping you wrapped in a ribbon, belonging only to him. He thought the former sounded more like Art.

“I’m probably staying at Stanford, for obvious reasons.” He could hear your voice, quiet as though you didn’t want to admit it. “It’s not fair,” Patrick said. “You’re supposed to enjoy your summer.” He added, growing frustrated with how inconsiderate Art was, with the monopoly Art held over your shared neighborhood. Bull-fucking-shit; “I’ve got two weeks off, and my parents are abroad. You could come to my lake house if you want a change of scenery,” he said, spitting the words out quickly before he could regret the invitation. Art was the only one who’d ever been invited there.

“That’s nice of you.” You said. He could hear the surprise you tried to hide in your voice. “I mean it,” he said, much more determined now. “It’ll be fun. My parents have the most impressive alcohol collection you’ll ever see.” He didn’t know what he was doing or which part of his brain was speaking for him right now. “I’ll think about it,” you said, wrapping up the call with a few more sentences. It felt like a win. And more than anything, Patrick needed a win. . . . "Is it true?" you heard Art's voice before you lifted your head from the book you were reading. "Hey, Art," you said with the most genuine smile you could muster, ignoring your racing heartbeat that only quickened. The truth was, you hadn’t seen him this close to you in two months. "You’re not going home for the break?" He sat down across from you without an invitation. "Nope," you said, as if it were obvious. As if that had been your plan all along. As if three months ago, you hadn’t whispered to each other in the dead of night all the things you’d do over the summer. As if you’d never loved him.

"You weren’t planning to tell me?" he asked, his gaze never leaving you. All you could do was raise an eyebrow because, honestly, where did he get the audacity? Where did he get the nerve to sit down across from you and make demands? Where did he get the idea that he owed you nothing, but you owed him everything? It’s your fault. You know it’s your fault. You taught him that you’d give every part of yourself for just a sliver of attention. But you don’t need that from him anymore. He’s a stranger. A stranger whose favorite scent you know. A stranger you’ve seen cry at Titanic. A stranger whose taste still lingers on the tip of your tongue. A stranger you know too well.

"No," you answered honestly. Because frankly, what else is there to say to him? "Are you serious? Why aren’t you going home?" he demanded answers. Demanded and demanded and demanded, after you gave and gave and gave. It’s your fault. Your mother’s fault and her foolish advice. You spoon-fed him love. "Because I have other plans. I’m sorry, am I missing something here, Art? We haven’t talked in two months, and I don’t understand what the issue is now." You didn’t want to be rude. Not to Art. Not to anyone. Sometimes to Patrick, but only because he was the most vulgar person you’d ever met. But Art was gentle and sensitive and beautiful, and harsh words had no place in your conversations with him.

"What plans?" he ignored your jab, but you could see him swallow hard, his eyebrows knitting together as if you’d sent him to work in a coal mine all summer. "I’m going to a friend’s," you found yourself shrugging. "Who? Someone I know?" he asked. "No," you felt guilty for the lie, "Why is this your business, Art?" you tried to make him leave or at least give you an answer. "We had plans too," he said quietly, as if revealing one last secret to you.

"I don’t remember." His expression changed in seconds. It was the look you’d only seen when he played tennis or tried to fend someone off you at one of the parties he told you to come to. Ice. He stood up and walked away within moments. Maybe this is the closure you two needed. Maybe it’s for the best. . . . Until the very last moment, Patrick didn’t believe you’d come. He waited for your bus by the side of the road, and when you got off, dressed in a floral summer dress and an oversized hat, signaling to the driver that you had a suitcase in the luggage compartment, Patrick stood frozen in place, his mouth agape. Because if someone had told him six months ago that he’d want to spend his free time in the summer with you, he would have laughed in their face. If someone had told him you’d show up in this remote place, in that ridiculous outfit, he probably would have snorted.

"Little dove, I was sure you’d chicken out," he said. Back when you talked about it, he treated it like a challenge. He spoke about your arrival at the lake house like it was a mission on a reality show. Impossible to pull off, with so much to lose. "I told you I’d come." You shrugged and smiled a smile he’d once seen you give to Art. Patrick had never received a smile from you, at least not a friendly one. Always a fake one. The kind he wanted to wipe off your face. "Are you going to help me with my suitcase, or are you going to keep standing there like a statue?" you asked with a chuckle. Patrick thought he was ready to sell the Porsche he’d come in, just to hear you chuckle again.

"This car is ridiculous," you said as you sat down beside him and raised your hands for emphasis. The convertible top was too much for you. Patrick had chosen this car on purpose. He wanted you to have the full Zweig family summer experience. He wanted you to feel what it was like to be in his inner circle. For a fleeting moment, he thought maybe he could buy your friendship. He didn’t know why he wanted it so badly. He went to sleep with your messages and woke up to them. Neither of you had any other friends, not real ones at least. It would’ve been sad if it didn’t make him so happy. He was such a loser. But it didn’t seem like you cared, and maybe the Porsche would grow on you by the end of these two weeks.

He showed you the rooms and the massive windows that let an unreasonable amount of light into the "cabin," which was supposed to be modest but was larger than most of the houses in your and Art’s neighborhood. Patrick knew that. He studied your reaction to everything he showed you. Watched as you stared at the lake right outside the cabin. Sat on the sofa in the living room for a moment. Placed your belongings in the guest room.

"We need to go shopping," you announced after opening the fridge to find it completely empty. "We don’t have to. You don’t eat anything anyway," he blurted out, and he saw you pale. "What are you talking about?" you mumbled, looking everywhere but at him. "Nothing, I’ve just never seen you eat." He tried to say it casually, but the truth was, it had always preoccupied him. Every time he visited Art in the summer and found himself at gatherings with you, you’d take food onto your plate but never actually put it in your mouth. He couldn’t understand how it didn’t bother Art. He couldn’t understand how Art just ignored it. As if it were completely normal behavior to sit with someone you called your best friend and not eat.

"I eat." Your entire face was scrunched up, the way he’d learned it does when you overthink. When you’re trying to get the most out of a situation you’ve found yourself in. When you’re trying to be nice to Patrick but don’t want to because he doesn’t deserve it. "Whatever, little dove. Let’s go shopping. I’ll show you the main street. There are some cool spots there," he concluded the conversation because he didn’t want to argue. And honestly, it wasn’t his place to comment on your habits. So he decided to let it go.

The main street of the small village you were in was almost empty. It could have been suspicious if Patrick hadn’t been here dozens, if not hundreds, of times since he was born. This was one of his dad’s favorite vacation homes. After an hour of wandering between stores, they found themselves sitting across from each other at a diner. Patrick watched as you ate fish and chips in front of him like your life depended on it. Like you had something to prove. He just rolled his eyes, shoved three fries into his mouth at once, leaned back, and chuckled.

Everything was peaceful. Patrick was sure it would be much weirder, at least at first. But no. You fit into his summer as if you’d always belonged there. From conversations with the elderly neighbors at the cabin next door to the meals you cooked together- it was domestic. Patrick was afraid to talk about how different this was from anything he’d ever done with a girl. He was afraid to mention that you were sleeping in the room that used to be only Art's. He was afraid to admit that he thought you were pretty in a way he hadn't thought before.

He thinks you’re most beautiful in the morning, before you’ve had your coffee. If he’s lucky and goes for a morning run, even before you’ve brushed your teeth. He’s discovered you’re funny. That you can deliver the funniest line with the perfect timing. He thinks it’s because you read a lot. Because you’re smart. Because you know things. He loves that you come to watch him train, even though you’re busy with your own things and only steal occasional glances his way. He thinks he could replace Art in your life. He thinks you think so too.

But deep down, you both know nothing could ever replace Art. And one of the times you’re sitting across from him at the diner, he takes a picture of you sipping a milkshake while smiling and uploads it to Facebook. Because Facebook is the new 'it' thing, and everyone has it. And if Patrick’s lucky, you’ll make it your profile picture. Then he can look at it and remember that he made you laugh, that he made you happy, and for two weeks, he beat Art Donaldson at something. And it felt sweet. So sweet.

The night before you plan to go back to university, you and Patrick get drunk on his dad’s fancy tequila. He’d never seen you drunk before, so like many things, this was new. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, and you were wearing shorts that were far too short because August’s heat was unbearable. And the more both of you drank, the fuller your lips seemed to him, the rosier your cheeks, the larger your chest.

He just wanted to touch something. To feel something.

When one thing led to another and you were straddling him, your lips on his, he let out a deep bassy groan he never thought he could produce. Patrick had been with girls before- God knows he’d been with enough girls not to lose his cool over someone agreeing to kiss him. But something about how delicate you were and how much he had hated you a few months ago, how much he’d wanted to erase every trace of you, made him so hard he found himself grinding against you like some kind of desperate dog. He fucked you on the couch in the living room, and though the couch was comfortable, he wasn’t proud of it. He thinks he should’ve restrained himself, taken you to a bed. He thinks you deserve more than him being lazy, drunk, and not at his best. But if there’s one thing Patrick Zweig is terrible at, it’s delaying gratification. And he wanted you so badly. You didn’t seem to mind the location, at least not outwardly.

His lips were everywhere, as if he was trying to swallow you whole in one go. The sounds coming out of you were pornographic. Every so often, the thought crossed his mind that Art was the only other guy who had ever heard you like this, seen you like this- so needy, so vulnerable. It made his cock twitch even harder than it already was.

When he touched you, you were so wet that he told you how dirty you were for him. He talked to you like he still hated you. Like it was all punishment. Like he was about to get up, point at you, and laugh at how pathetic you were. But you couldn’t think about that now. You didn’t have the bandwidth. Not when his hands were teasing your nipple. Not when his lips were marking your neck. Not when he entered you in one hard thrust, making you almost cry out.

At some point, your heels found their way to his shoulders. He looked at your face with the little focus he could muster, and it was a sight he needed to preserve. To remember until the day he died. And he pushed deeper with that thought, drawing sounds out of both of you that neither of you knew you could make. In the end, he felt you clench around him, making him release everything that had built up in his balls with one long groan.

He just lay over you for a few minutes, still wearing the condom. With the sweat, the tears, the marks- you looked so utterly fucked. And it was because of him. He hadn’t felt this proud in a long time.

“So this is what it feels like,” he heard you mumble. “What feels like?” he asked, finding himself playing with your soft hair. “To have an orgasm.”

He hadn’t expected that, so he shifted slightly to look at your face. Your eyes were still glassy. You weren’t focused. If you were, you probably wouldn’t have said that. “What did you say?” he asked, wanting you to repeat it. “I’ve never come before. I thought I was broken,” you chuckled like it was a joke. But Patrick’s heart pounded harder than he expected. He knew for certain that you and Art had slept together before. That wasn’t a secret. He knew you and Art had done things that weren’t just sex even earlier. “You and Art-” He was confused. “I’m not proud of it,” you sighed quietly. “I faked it so he wouldn’t feel bad. I read in a magazine what to do to make it seem real,” you explained quickly, as if saying it faster would make it less scandalous. “You don’t have to fake orgasms to make someone feel good, Little Dove,” he sighed. “You’re the one who's supposed to feel good. That’s the whole point of sex,” he declared, explaining it to you like reciting a rule to a confused puppy.

Patrick needed a win, and this—this was the biggest victory of all times. He had beaten Art Donaldson in every damn set, and it felt so fucking sweet.

It’s been such a long time since I’ve written anything, so this came out super weird and unclear. I hope you like it tho! Please DM me and let me know what you think. That’s it, byeeeeee

[dronningreid]

✧ Part 1: All the times I knew you

A seemingly ordinary case turns into something more when reader returns to Reid's life. Forcing him to tell something that he never told, the beginning of a story that broke his heart fourteen years ago.

change the ending series masterlist

who? Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

category: angst/fluff

warnings/content: reader jealous, reader is a little mean to jj (nothing personal, i love that queen), mentions of maeve, allusion to bullying, special appearance of alex blake, reid is a little mean to reader, very vague mentions of a case and reader and reid appear aged 12, 15 and 31. English is not my first language.

word count: 3.1K

a/n: Hello this is the first part of my series 'Change the ending' I hope you enjoy this as much as I loved writing this. There are a couple of references to the song cardigan (because that is my most personal song and also Spencer's)

14 years, 160 days, 33 minutes and 13 seconds. That was all the time that had passed since Reid last saw you.

It is said that there are always more questions than answers and that has never made more sense than today.

Today's case promised to be average on the Reid scale, of course.

Today promised to be just another day, like the rest. Just an irrelevant Wednesday where he would miss the Sunday of talking to Maeve, which was still fresh in his mind.

As fresh as you, a memory he should have let burn away fourteen years ago. But it wasn't that easy, even without his eidetic memory you attached yourself to his cerebral cortex as if you had been there since the first time he opened his eyes.

If there was one thing he had learned all those years ago, it was that the memories most want to forget are the ones hold on to the most tightly.

"Earth calling Reid." JJ waved her hand in front of his friend's face.

He blinked a few times. “Yeah. What’s up?” He tried to keep his gaze on JJ, but his eyes kept drifting to your shape. So close and so far at the same time... Just like the last time.

Maybe it was a mistake in his mind and it wasn't you, fourteen years had passed. How could he even recognize you? He didn't even know if you were still alive.

Maybe this time it was like when everything ended and he thought he saw you everywhere. In the grocery line, at school, at home...

As if you were a phantom he couldn't get rid of.

He knew those shadows weren't you and yet every time he thought he saw you it was like such a simple activity like breath became complicated out of nowhere. You used to have that effect, honestly you still have it.

Jennifer frowned before turning her gaze to you. But a couple more eyes weren't enough for you realize what was happen. "You know her?" The question caught him off guard.

How should he even answer such a question? Yes, more than anything. No. Of course. Maybe. Neither was a sufficient answer because on the one hand of course he knew you, at least that's how it was before and that's why he didn't know you, at least not now.

He shoved his hands into his pockets before finally looking at JJ. “She looks like someone I used to know.” 100% true? No, but pretty close.

"I was hoping so, it would help us if you met her." Reid frowned. "Bertram is our most viable suspect, if we lose him we're going to hit a wall." JJ explained something that Reid should already know, should.

"And what does that have to do with her?" Reid raised an eyebrow.

JJ was the one who frowned this time. "Spence, she is Bertram's lawyer. Are you okay?"

When he was about to answer, you approached him, increasing his questions, doubts and clumsiness.

"I'm Bertram Harris' lawyer." You introduced yourself before continuing, answering at least one of Spencer's questions. "What is the imaginary evidence against my client? Because if there was real evidence, charges would have already been filed." He knew that harsh tone so well...

"We have 48 hours before we file charges." Reid replied seriously.

"46 hours." You corrected so casually. He recognized you, but you didn't recognize him? Ouch.

"Well, we have a profile-" You didn't let Jennifer finish speaking.

"Profiles." You let out an exaggerated sigh. "I bet a lot of people would fit in your profile, so that's not enough to prove my client guilty in court." You spoke firmly, fierce as a defense lawyer, and you weren't in court yet. And even though he didn't exactly like your attitude, he had to admit that you were good.

Reid crossed his arms. "Out of so many people, it's amazing that the evidence will lead us right to your client. So we'll take advantage of the 46 hours we have left."

You snorted. "Fine, but when time passes and all of you have nothing against my client, he'll be upset about the time you made him waste." You pulled a pen out of your bag. "Give me your names."

JJ and Spencer shared a look before sighing and agreeing to your request. "Jennifer Jareau." You jotted the name down on your palm.

"Spencer Reid." A hint of mockery crept into his serious tone. Yes, you probably didn't remember his face, but his name was something you'd never forget.

You barely wrote the S on your palm and it was like the ink turned to poison when it came into contact with your skin. You immediately rubbed your palm against your trousers before looking up. "Spencer Re...?" The last few letters died in your mouth.

Of course, no one else had those beautiful eyes with hazel colors and golden flecks. So bright, so honest, so innocent. But now in those eyes there was nothing more than severity.

JJ's gaze traveled from Reid to you and back to Reid, using her profiling skills to determine why the air had suddenly become so thick.

"You look... Different." You whispered as he suddenly decided that silence was his best friend.

The wall he had built so long ago was still as strong as the last time you saw him. The last time he saw you he was so serious but this time after fourteen years he made you feel like you were seventeen again.

"You too." Rather than stating the obvious, that sounded like an insult.

JJ cleared her throat. "Spence." He looked away from you. "You know her?" Jennifer whispered in a failed attempt to get you not hear her.

"No." You were surprised at how quickly the letters that came out of his mouth took shape.

"Liar." You pointed out before looking at Jennifer. Though your attention wavered to the ring on her finger. "He knows every inch of me." You lifted your chin.

JJ raised her eyebrows and the way she looked at Reid it seemed more like gossip to her than a tease...

You thought. <<Yeah, maybe she doesn't>>

"Her husband's name is Will. It's not me, she's just my friend." He clarified, though it's not like you were entitled to clarification. At least you hadn't had that right for a long time.

Even when he was just a student he also had that ability to read you like an open book.

"And as for what you said, I'm not a liar." His tone was painfully stern. "I knew you before, fourteen years ago, but that's too long for anyone to remember." That's what he wanted to repeat to himself, because honestly the memories that were about you had no expiration date. "Now and maybe even then I have no idea who you are."

He gave you one last look before turning on his heel and walking off to somewhere where he couldn't sense your presence.

"I'll talk to Bertram about not pressing charges." JJ looked at you in confusion and to be honest even you couldn't believe that a stupid teenage love affair was enough to affect your work. At least you weren't the only one going through something like that.

"And I'm sorry..." A lump formed in your throat. "Maybe I shouldn't even ask you this, but could you deliver something to Spencer?" You then pulled a card out of your bag and handed it to Jennifer.

She studied the black card in her hand for a few seconds, carefully looking at your name and phone number. "Of course, I'll give it to him." She smiled slightly at you.

You gave her an awkward smile before turning away. God, you felt so stupid now for thinking she was his wife. Besides, what would be wrong with him having a wife? Spencer Reid deserved to be happy.

As soon as you left the police station, JJ pulled out his phone. "Penelope, you won't believe what just happened."

∗⋅✧⋅∗

Reid was in a small office going over all the evidence again for a reason he wouldn't admit out loud.

But he had already checked everything three times and had hit a wall all three times. The time it took him to figure things out could vary, but this was different.

What he didn't know was that the answer was there, it's just that his mind was too clouded at the moment to realize it.

And all that mental fog had a name: yours.

He loosened his tie, taking a deep breath to regulate his racing heart. Apparently you still had that effect on him, you, the protagonist of a story so old that it must have already had cobwebs. But unfortunately for him, that wasn't the case...

Spencer gripped the edge of the desk before taking another deep breath.

But his attempts to relax were cut short when his worst enemy: his own memory made him relive the last time he kissed your lips...

The soft skin against each other, the mingled breaths, your hands in his hair and the way he didn't see that those would be the last kisses.

"Another disadvantage of eidetic memory," he told himself. But now that he thought about it, did it have any benefit? Of course it did. But all the tangled threads in his mind didn't allow see the reality.

Someone knocked on the door and he jumped slightly in place before looking towards the door. "Blake..."

Blake smiled slightly at him. "Hi." Her eyes scanned the papers scattered across the desk and then Reid's disheveled appearance. "Is everything okay?"

He nodded quickly, taking his seat back behind the desk. "Yeah." But the way Alex looked at him made him say something else. "Not really."

She sat down in front of him. "Yes, we all know about the pretty lawyer."

"Jennifer..." Reid huffed before running his hands over his face.

"And who is she?" Blake asked in her usual calm tone.

<<Good question>>

A short time ago he was telling her about Maeve, he never thought he would tell Blake about another girl again and not so suddenly... But honestly you weren't another girl, you were THE GIRL.

Reid sighed. "She's nobody." He pinched the bridge of his nose.

"It must be someone if the smartest guy I know hasn't already given us a big revelation that will help with this case." Blake looked at him with understanding eyes. "Go ahead Reid, talking about it will help."

Reid rubbed his knees with his hands. "Well I can't tell you who she's, but I can tell you who she was."

∗⋅✧⋅∗

Spencer took a deep breath. "I don't even know where to start."

"The beginning is perhaps the easiest." She gave his hand a gentle squeeze, encouraging him to continue.

"We had a lot of beginnings, if that's possible." He ran a hand through his hair.

His mind traveled back to the first interaction he had with you, when you were both 12. But before that, something else had to happen for him to get to know you, something very bad.

He was in the library when Harper Hillman approached him.

"Alexa Isben wants to meet you behind the field house." She said.

She was there. So was the entire football team. They stripped him naked and tied him to a goal post. So many kids were there, just watching...

He begged them to, but they just watched. Then finally they got bored and they left.

He had told that story to Morgan years ago, but he had completely erased you from it. Until now.

Alex looked at him with compassion. "It got dark and I thought I would stay there forever. But then she appeared..." He looked away, remembering it as if it were yesterday.

A little twelve-year-old you ran towards the goal post. "Oh my god. Who did this to you?" You kept your eyes fixed on his defeated face.

He had never seen you before, did you even study there? Because you didn't look the same age as the guys he was going to graduate with, the ones who had done this to him...

You looked much younger, like him.

You weren't discouraged by his lack of words, instead you considered how to help him. "Wait here, I'll go get some clothes and some scissors to cut the rope." You didn't wait for an answer, you just ran off to find what you told him.

The cold of the night was beginning to seep through his skin, freezing him. He didn't even think you'd come back, but then. "Be careful with the scissors, if I sting you, let me know." So you put all your effort into cutting the rope, at that moment you regretted not carrying a knife for ease.

Luckily, a single cut was enough to release the rope. You then spread the clothes you had found over him and covered your eyes with your hand.

"I hope it fits, it's my brother's so it might be a little big on you." Spencer took the clothes from your hands.

"Thank you." He whispered as he hurriedly put on each item of clothing. "You can look now." He said once he finished putting on the shirt.

You pulled your hand away from your eyes. “Oh, I forgot the jacket. You must be freezing cold.” You said as you hurriedly unbuttoned your loose black cardigan.

"Oh, you don't have to..." Embarrassment seeped into his words but you still put your cardigan on him.

"It's okay. You need it more than me. By the way, I'm..." Then you told him your name.

He watched as you finished buttoning the cardigan. "Spencer. Spencer Reid."

"You should tell me the names of those who did this to you, then I can tell my mother to expel them. She's the principal." You let your hands fall to your sides.

"It's not that bad..." Yes it was.

"Of course it was!" You exclaimed. "Give me names and I'll beat them up myself. I hate bullies."

Spencer let out a light laugh that quickly disappeared at the bitter feelings bubbling up inside him. "They're the older guys, you can't handle them. Besides, this could have been worse."

"Don't underestimate me." You tried to joke. "Worse? How long have you been tied up there? It's almost midnight" You looked at him with concern.

"Midnight?" His eyes widened. Surely his mother was worried that he hadn't come home.

So you grabbed him by the sleeve of the cardigan and dragged him along. "Come, I'll ask my dad to take you home."

∗⋅✧⋅∗

"So her dad drove you home?" Blake asked.

"Yes. It was like midnight when I got home. My mom didn't even realize I was late. She was having one of her episodes..." He sigh, how could something that had happened so long ago still have such a negative power over him? "I know I shouldn't get into a stranger's car and technically nothing bad happened to me, they helped me. But I did it... Because I felt like I could trust her but maybe it wasn't a good idea from the start."

"I'm sorry you had to go through that to meet her."

Spencer sighed and looked down. "I regret about both."

"Both?" Blake looked at him in confusion.

Reid looked up. "Yeah, what happened that day and meeting her." He replied with a seriousness too cold to be true.

Blake stared at him in silence for a couple of seconds before speaking again. "What happened next?"

"I don't saw her again, it was like she just vanished." He sighed. "Then three years passed and there she was again..."

"I was studying for my first PhD at MIT so I decided that over the holidays I wanted to go home to visit my mother. But instead of taking a flight I decided to travel by train."

It's funny how a single decision can affect our future.

∗⋅✧⋅∗

"The last train to Las Vegas leaves in five minutes." A voice announced through one of the speakers.

"One ticket, please." The woman at the ticket office handed him his ticket once he gave her the money.

Reid was about to board the train when you crashed into it.

"I'm so sorry." you continued to apologize as you helped him up from the floor.

He brushed off his clothes once he was standing again. "It's okay, don't worry."

You tried not to look at him, not after you had thrown him to the floor. But he did look at you which made his heart skip a beat when he recognized you.

He stared in your direction for a couple of seconds before deciding to continue and board the train.

"Oh, I, I had my money here." You patted your jacket pockets. "If you could just help me I'd pay you right away... It's just that it's very important for me to have that ticket because it's the last train to Las Vegas and I really need to go." But the woman at the ticket office didn't take pity on you.

Then Reid came over. "I'll pay for the ticket."

The woman didn't say anything, she just accepted Reid's money and handed you the ticket, which you immediately took.

"Thank you so much, you just saved my life." You followed him to board the train together.

"Okay, we're even now." He smiled slightly at you.

You hadn't planned on sitting next to a complete stranger but you followed him. "We're even?" You asked as he placed his luggage in the compartment.

"I'm Spencer." He hope that will refresh your mind.

You opened your mouth in surprise. "Of course! Spencer Reid, I remember you well." You scanned him from top to bottom. "The answer to where I left my favorite cardigan three years ago." You tried to load your luggage into the compartment but couldn't.

He helped you out, like a true gentleman. "I'm sorry I didn't see you again after that. Do you want it back?" He asked after closing the compartment door.

"You still have it?" You asked in disbelief.

"It's my favorite too." He whispered.

∗⋅✧⋅∗

"I didn't plan on things being like this, but she and I were together the whole trip. Just chatting and-" He looked down as nostalgia washed over him. "Marked me like a blood stain..."

"She seems pretty nice so far." Blake commented. "What went wrong?"

"She was really nice." He sighed. "At that time, nothing bad had happened. In fact, after that incredible trip I lost track of her again and didn't see her again until two years later."

He looked up. "But I didn't really know her until our third beginning, when everything started to go wrong..."

[sinnabarmoth]

Getting Older

Pairing: Xavier x Fem|Reader

Prompt: You have an existential crisis when Xavier tells you that he is a centuries year old alien.

Length: 1200

Xavier was hiding something.

After months of officially dating him you could tell when he was trying to hide something from you. Problem is you couldn’t think about what he could possibly have to hide. You knew Xavier. There was a lot of him that was a mystery to you but ever since you got together he had been very open and honest about who he is.

So what was it that he was still keeping to himself?

You were lounging at home, you had just gotten a new video game and Xavier was over to play co-op mode with you. It was a pretty typical day until you noticed that Xavier kept glancing at you. Usually when you played video games he was zeroed in on the screen. You had tested him once just to see how focused he was while playing a video game and started stripping right next to him on the couch. The man did not so much as blink until you were completely naked and then he paused and pinned you to the couch. Apparently he had been aware of what you were doing the entire time and was just biding his time until you were bare.

But now he kept looking over and was barely paying attention to the puzzle you were trying to figure out in the game. Finally you had enough and paused. “What is it?” you asked.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that you’ve been stealing looks at me the entire time you’ve been here. Something is on your mind so just tell me what it is because if we get a game over on this level again I’m going to slap you.” you crossed your arms over your chest. “Now tell me.”

Xavier sighed. “I…there is something I’ve been meaning to tell you but I could never find the right time. Then again, I’ve had enough time to learn that there is no perfect time for anything. There are better moments but I can’t keep this to myself any longer.”

“Xav,” you took his hand. “Whatever it is, you can tell me. You know that, right?”

“I know. I just don’t want you to freak out when I say this.” Well that was ominous.

Xavier took a deep breath and looked at you. “Do you remember when I said I had killed over 70,000 Wanderers?”

“Yeah. Still have no idea how that is possible for someone so young.” you shrugged. “Is that it? You’re gonna tell me you were exaggerating to look cool?”

“No. I wasn’t exaggerating and I’m not exactly what you would call young.” he cringed away from your inspectful gaze. “I…um…”

“Xavier?” you squeezed his hand. “It’s alright.”

He dropped his head, looking up at you through the fringe of his hair. “I’m not in my twenties like I told you, nor am I exactly human.”

You wanted to ask what he was going on about but remained silent, waiting for his explanation. “The truth is, I come from the planet Philos. The people there age very slowly and about two hundred years ago I came here with some friends. That’s why my record of Wanderer kills is so high. I’ve been around a long time and I’m going to be around for an even longer time.”

“You…” there were so many questions swirling in your head. He was from Philos? Was he really that old? How had no one realized that he had been around for two hundred years if he looks exactly the same? Who were these friends? Were they still around? Who else knew about this?

But what ended up coming out was, “Does that mean you’re still gonna look like this when I’m eighty?”

Xavier blinked at you. “I mean, I suppose. I may look a little older by then but not by much.” he rubbed the back of his neck, “Is that all you have to ask? I just told you I’m a centuries old alien.”

“I know. I just--” your brain was short circuiting. “Do you know what it is going to look like if I’m fifty and I’m walking around calling a guy that looks like he’s twenty my husband? They’re gonna think I’m a cougar or a sugar mommy or something! People are gonna think it’s weird!”

“Did you say husband?”

“Wrong thing to focus on!” you sighed, trying to rein your emotions back in. “Sorry. I know you didn’t want me to freak out but my brain is just flooding with thoughts and I can’t sort through all of them at once.”

“It’s alright. I figured this would happen when I told you.” he turned you to face him again. “But I needed to tell you. You deserved to know the truth.”

“And I’m grateful that you did. I don’t care that you’re super old--”

“I wouldn’t say super old--” he muttered.

“--or that you’re technically an alien. I still feel the same as I always did. I still love you.” you cupped his face. His two hundred year old youthful face. “But now I’m thinking about how long this is going to last.”

“What do you mean?”

“You said people on Philos age slowly, right?” Xavier nodded. “So if you age slowly and you look like this at two hundred years old, that means you’re going to be alive for a really long time. But me, I’m just a human. Our average lifespan is eighty years. By the time I’m old and dying you’re still going to be like this. You are still going to be around and me…”

You took in a shaky breath. “I don’t want to leave you alone.”

Pain flashed in Xavier’s eyes, as if this hadn’t occurred to him either. He pressed his forehead to yours. “I…I don’t know what to say to make you feel better. I don’t even know if anything could. I have no answers about what may be waiting for us in the future but I do know this. I do not care how long we have together, I will cherish every single second of it. And if you leave this life while I am still here, know that I will find you in the your next one. I will always find you.”

“I’m going to get so old!” you cried. “I’m gonna be all wrinkly and slow!”

“And you will still be the most beautiful woman in the world to me.” he kissed your forehead. “But if there is a way to match our lifespans, I will find it. Because I would want nothing more than to grow old with you. Be it we are given sixty more years or six hundred. I will always love you.”

You hugged him tight. Whatever fears you had about your future you didn’t want to think about them now. Right now you were young and happy and your lives were full. That was all that mattered. And come hell or high water you would find a way to rewrite fate. You would not leave him, not for anything.

He gave you a tissue to wipe at your tear stained cheeks. Once you had calmed down he left a chaste but loving kiss on your lips. He pulled back with a small smile. “So…what did you mean exactly when you said husband?”

Your face flushed with heat all the way up to the tip of your ears. “Oh uh…about that…”

[yoki-loves-stars]

Dream has talked a few times during the stream about how Tubbo is being told false information by Tommy. To which Tubbo directly replies that he has seen the proof himself and that he is his own person capable of forming his own opinions. I feel like that's coming from the fact that Tubbo was frequently treated as an extension of his friends rather than his own person by the community in general.

Tubbo mentioned it like 2 or 3 years ago, but I do want to talk about it right now as well, mainly because I don't see anyone else mentioning it so far.

I should mention that there is, of course, this fear of people talking behind your back. It's natural to have that fear, but that should not be apart of your "apology". You don't need to spread even more speculations. You of all people should understand how harmful these speculations could be and how pure assumptions should not be public. Because that's all this is. Assumptions.

Not only is it incredibly disrespectful of Dream to imply that Tubbo is being manipulated or that Tubbo cannot think for himself, while Tubbo is going out of his way to be unbiased, it also rubs me the wrong way how he basically says that Tubbo is one of the good ones (not a direct quote). I find it very manipulative and also disrespectful to other creators, who criticised Dream in the past. Now I know that Tubbo is way better than that, but it feels like Dream is going out of his way to kind of hide behind Tubbo's back as much as possible, putting words in his mouth, playing friends, guilt tripping him and, in a way, his audience.

I could be digging to much into this, but I have found that weird.

[inej-ruination-ghafa]

KNOWN YOU FOREVER - L.C

Warnings: blood

Summary: the one where luke stumbles upon a girl who saves him and makes him feel like he has known her for his entire life

Wordcount: 3.1k

The day had started like any other, a cold wind blowing through New York City. It was like every other November, the icy chill falling on the city. You stepped outside, a big bag in hand and you threw it in the trash outside of your small inner city apartment.

You looked out through the alleyway as you heard a noise. Every sense told you that you should run, that you never know what could be lurking in the dark fog of the early morning, but something else inside of you told you to stay and watch; and you’d never been too good at self control so you waited there for a second, hearing the skidding of sneakers on the concrete.

Throughout your nearly 19 years of life, you had seen weird things that had landed you in psychiatrist offices and children’s help centres. Because no small child is seeing light green women in the Hudson River with scales and seaweed attatched to their hair.

What you saw at the end of that alleyway skidding towards you was shocking as well, but maybe not as much as the Neirads when you were eight. It was just a boy.

He didnt look like a boy actually, more like a man. He had short hair that seemed almost pitch black in the early morning light and the fear on his face as he ran towards you, not noticing you because he was so focused on looking over his shoulder.

you held your hands out just as he slammed into you. He grabbed onto your shoulders in shock with one hand, the other coming up to defend himself but then he realised you posed no threats.

“Woah, hold up there, that’s a dead end,” you exclaimed, not even worried which was silly considering what was going on here.

You shoud have been worried about the way that he held a sword in his right hand and it had gotten way too close to your jugular mere moments ago. Instead, your eyes were trained on his, and the way that they bore into yours like he had known you his entire life. You stared at the scar over his right eye, the skin almost glowing

You tilted your head to the side, confused, “Is that a sword? Dude, I’m sure that’s illegal,”

He was heaving like he was out of breath and that’s when he took a step back, realising how close he had gotten to you, ”A dead end?”

You rolled your eyes, “I just said that, yeah,” You could hear footsteps approaching, almost like an army marching on the pavement and that’s when you realised he was being followed or chased, “Go through that door,”

That was the second time in the last minute and a half that you had defied your better judgements and decided to help someone that you didnt even know.

”What?” He seemed just as shocked and confused as you did as he stood there for a second, frozen in place.

“That door, its my apartment,” you said, pushing him slightly towards the entrance. He winced and you noted that he might be hurt, “Idiot, get inside,”

The mysterious man didnt waste any time before he went into your apartment and closed the door behind him. You tried to act nonchalant as you stood there, pretending to throw something in the bin.

In the corner of your eye, you could see three tall men that looked like Cyclopes or something. You couldnt quite figure it out from there and if you would have looked closer, it would have blown your cover.

The monsters walked past the alleyway without any problem and you walked back into your apartment, adrenaline rushing through your body and your heart pounding so hard in your chest, you thought you could explode.

you stared at the man that was standing there. He dragged one of his hands through his hair, messing it up slightly. That’s when you really looked at him.

He had a ripped green shirt and a thin leather jacket on that must not have been keeping him warm in the winter months. He had blood splatter on his cheek and before you could worry about him being injured, you deduced that it must have come from someone else.

“What the hell are you involved in?” You exclaimed, voice high pitched and panicked.

He brushed a hand over his face, taking a moment to realise how strange this was, how you had just let him into your house without a second thought. “How can you see all this?” He questioned, brows furrowed as he tried to figure it all out, “You are a mortal, aren’t you?”

You scoffed, “Mortal? What are you, God?”

“There is no God, not that one with the capital G anyway,” he said, rolling his eyes at your idea. He paused for a second, almost like he was contemplating whether it would be a good idea to expose himself to you, “I’m a Demi-god,”

Your eyes went wide and you took a moment to think about it. This was surreal. There was some random guy in your apartment claiming he was some disney character, “Like Hercules,”

“Heracles,”

”Excuse me?” You questioned.

“Heracles,” he repeated, “Modern media is wrong,”

You opened your mouth, trying to think about your knowledge of all of this. Here was a boy who claimed that he was like some sort of character from a Greek myth. You thought of your history teacher rambling on about mythology.

Your head was spinning at the idea that all of those stories that had been told to you from a young age were true, that maybe you hadn’t been crazy and that all of the things you had seen were part of this other world.

“So which one? Zeus, Athena-“ you started to spill off all of the names you remembered and then he leaped forward, eyes wide as he clamped his hand over your mouth.

You stood there for a second, eyes equally as wide as you realised what you had gotten yourself into.

”Don't say their names,” he murmured, looking over his shoulder and then moving away. He narrowed his eyes at you and you just stood there. This was more than you had bargained for.

He leaned against your side table, one hand pressing against he rip in his shirt. He pulled his hand away, hand sticky with blood and then he looked up at you, hoping you hadn’t seen the state he was in. You had.

“How much trouble are you in?” You asked.

There was a voice in your head screaming that this was a bad idea, you should not be talking to some stranger who was bleeding in your apartment after he was on the run from the Gods. That in itself made your head spin, that there were actually Gods up there and they were angry.

He shrugged, trying to act nonchalant, “A lot,”

“Any rational mortal would tell you to leave right now,” there was a sarcastic tone to your voice, emphasis on the word mortal.

“So why aren’t you?” He tilted his head to the side, looking at you. From what he knew of mortals, you seemed normal enough, living in a small one bedroom apartment, looking a little lonely. It didnt make sense to him why you would let him stay.

There was a silence as you thought about his question. You would have loved to answer him but in all honesty, you weren’t sure why you were still letting him stay, “I don't know,” you admitted, the two of you sharing a moment of eye contact like he understood why you were letting him stay, even if you didn’t, “You want something to eat-“

“Luke,”

you repeated his name back at him and he nodded his head. A chill went down his back at the sound of his name falling from your lips.

Names were powerful and he just gave it to you. Thats not something he normally does.

Luke could feel himself getting lightheaded so sat down on your leather armchair, his hand going back down to the spot where he had grabbed onto earlier. There was still blood there and he leaned his head back in annoyance.

You looked at him, his eyes squeezed shut and his hand pressed against his abdomen, “Are you hurt?”

He opened his eyes and shot you a look that suggested that you shouldn’t be getting involved in whatever his problem is, “It's not that big of a deal,” he promised, even though he was lying through his teeth.

You couldn't care less if he didn’t want you to look so you walked over to where he was, reaching down slowly like you were approaching a wounded animal. You grabbed his hand and pulled away to see it sticky with blood. You narrowed your eyes at the slash against his abdomen.

“Lucky for you, I’m training to be a doctor,” you said as you examined the cut, finger poking at the muscle of his abdomen.

He looked away from you, face flushed red at the interaction. He didnt know why he was like this, maybe it was the embarrassment of having to let someone look after him or maybe it was the way you touched him so softly, like a fragile doll that would splinter at the wrong touch. Nobody had touched him so gently in a very long time.

“You gonna let me fix you up?” You asked.

He looked down at you as you crouched between his legs and he nodded, watching as you walked off to the kitchen and rummaged through your drawers.

You looked over you shoulder to see that he was watching you with that intense stare that you felt like you had seen before. You grabbed the kit and walked back over.

He spread his legs and you knelt between them, lifting his shirt up as you looked at the wound.

There was silence as you brushed the antiseptic wipes across his stomach, hearing him wince every time it would get close to the gash. You looked up at Luke, his brows squeezed together as he tried to hide any pain that he felt.

Normally he wouldn’t be doing this but he had run out of ambrosia and wouldn’t be back at his base for another three days. He would probably have bled out by then if he wouldn’t have let you patch him up; or at least that’s what he was telling himself.

You started to sew up the cut and he gripped onto the arm of the chair to stop himself from getting too riled up. He took a deep breath and looked around the room, analysing it. You seemed like you were living by yourself but there were pictures of you and other people all around the room.

Some things stood out to him, the warm light that came from a candle, the dying flowers that sat in a vase on your side table, the smell of freshly baked cookies in the air. It felt like a home.

He winced again as you pulled at the final string, tongue sticking out from between your teeth as you finished the last tie and cut the string. You took a second to look at your handiwork before brushing another antiseptic wipe over the wound.

You stood up, “All done,”

He looked at you and for the first time, really took in what he was looking at, the slope of your nose, the lashes that brushed against the apples of your cheeks, that little glimmer in your eyes, the ways your lips pursed together as you looked at him.

Luke could feel his face warming up again at the intensity of your stare, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?” You tilted your head to the side.

”Like you’ve known me my whole life,” it took him a second to get the words out but then they just tumbled out of his mouth.

You felt your own cheeks warming up at his words. It did feel like you had known him your entire life, like he had always been there in the back of your mind and now he was sitting in your arm chair.

You knew you had to walk away before you got yourself in trouble so you walked over to the oven, putting on your mitts before pulling out the cookies. Setting them on the side, the smell wafted over to Luke and he felt sick.

It was like he was a little kid again, his mother baking cookies every single day and forcing him to eat them. He remembered her chasing him around the house, yelling about how she couldn’t stop his fate. He remembered leaving that house, taking one last look before he slung the backpack over his shoulder and never looked back.

“You want one?” The words were blurry, like he was underwater.

He stood up, pulling his shirt down as he felt the bile rising up his throat, ”I should go,”

You scoffed, “You always leave this fast,”

He looked at you in silence and then looked over his shoulder at the door that he had walked through earlier. Here he had a choice: to turn around and leave someone that he wanted to get to know better, or stay.

Luke pursed his lips together before walking over, leaning against the counter.

“Where are you from?” You asked.

“Connecticut,” sure, that’s where he was born, but normally he would say Camp Half Blood. That is where he comes from, the place that raised him and one day he would be able to go back and free them all, “You?”

”New York, my whole life,”

He nodded, “I live here now,”

“I’m not gonna ask about the whole sword business,” you said, a teasing smile pulling at your lips.

He chuckled, ”Thanks,”

There was silence as neither of you knew what to say. You would expect it to be an awkward silence seeing as the two of you had just met but it was the most comfortable silence you had ever experienced.

“You local?”

“I travel,” he replied, thinking about how much detail to go into, “I've got a mission, I have to complete it,” you nodded your head like you understood. Luke cursed himself for what he said next, for exposing himself to you so much, “I’m trying to bring my sister over, there’s a war,”

“A war,” your eyes went wide at the idea. How did nobody notice that there was a war going on right in front of them?

“Between the Gods and those that oppose their bureaucracy,” he explained.

You hummed in response, thinking back to what he had said, “And your sister. She’s not on the same side?”

He shook his head, “They poison children’s minds, make them think they’re right and we should do their bidding,” there was a venom in his words, like he had been harbouring his anger for these people for too long.

Your conversation was interrupted by the sounds of people yelling outside. Both of your heads whipped to the window to see if this was the people that were after Luke. The sound died down and you both calmed.

“You can stay the night if they’re still chasing you,” you suggested out of the blue.

“You dont know me,”

You sighed. There was no way to explain the feeling in your chest, like you had seen him before, in a dream. Or a dream of a dream, “Somethings familiar about you,”

”I get it,” he wanted to say that he understood how you felt but he couldn’t get the words out, “But I cant stay, I’m putting you in danger,”

“Luke,” the way you said his name made his heart skip a beat.

He watched as you took a step towards him, grabbing onto his arm and then digging through your pocket for a pen, “If you come back to the city and need a friend, call me,” you scribbled your phone number onto his arm, your hand lingering there for a second before letting go.

“Demi-gods cant have phones,” he explained.

You scrunched up your nose in disgust at the idea. He froze, it was almost like he had seen that expression before, “Thats stupid,”

“Monsters can track you through it,” he explained with a shrug, “I'll send you a letter though,”

“How will I send one back? If you move around so much,” you questioned.

He thought for a second, “Burn it. Throw it in a fire and think of me,”

You laughed at the idea, ”How ominous,”

He could feel his heart warming at the sight of her sitting on the kitchen counter, a smile on her face at a joke she had made.

”I should get going,” he said, breaking the silence.

“I know,” you pursed your lips together. A part of you knew he would have to leave soon, that you couldn’t keep him safe in the apartment forever but at the same time, you wanted him to stay.

He leaned off of the counter and started to walk towards the door, a hesitance in every step like he was wondering if this was the right decision anymore.

“Luke,” you called his name and he froze, like he had been waiting for you to call him back.

You jumped off of the counter as he turned around. He looked at you like he was specking something and your heart was pounding in your chest as he repeated your name back at you.

There were so many things that you wanted to say and your mouth hung open as you thought of what was the best way to leave this on. ”Ill be waiting for your letter,” was all you could get out.

He nodded, a hand on the handle, “See ya later, mortal,”

You watched as the door closed behind him and you rushed over, watching as he run into the alleyway without even looking back to see if you were still there.

Your heart was pounding in your chest and you leaned against the door that he had just walked out of, eyes squeezed shut as you tried to figure out what you had just gotten yourself involved with.

[bestalbertcamuslover]

A ring

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶

✯ pairing:  Sebastian Vettel x Reader ✯

✯ content warnings: none ✯

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶

Seb and her relationship had always been something on and off, mostly because they were both immersed in their respective careers. Every time they came back to each other, it felt like picking up from where they left off—very familiar, very cozy—and every time, it felt like it was definitive. Yet, the distance always told a different story. 

The restaurant was elegant but not stuffy, the kind of place where the lighting made everything and everyone look a little more beautiful. Seb was leaning back in his chair, gesturing animatedly as he recounted a story from his time at home in Switzerland.

“So, I’m out shoveling the driveway after this ridiculous snowfall—we’re talking snow up to my knees—and my neighbor comes out with this tiny electric snowblower,” he said, grinning.

She chuckled, already intrigued. “Okay, I’m picturing it. What happens next?”

“I’m halfway done, and he’s barely cleared a meter in front of his house,” Seb continued, his voice full of mock indignation. “Then the thing jams, and he just stands there, staring at it, like it’s going to fix itself. Meanwhile, I’m over here with my shovel, basically winning the neighborhood Olympics.”

She burst out laughing, covering her mouth. “Wait, you’re telling me you, Sebastian Vettel, couldn’t help yourself and turned driveway shoveling into a competition?”

He shrugged, trying to look innocent. “What can I say? I like to win.”

“Did you help him, or did you just smugly finish first and leave him there with his broken snowblower?”

“I helped,” he said, pretending to be offended. “I’m not a monster! Though I did make a joke about how sometimes manual tools are better than fancy machines. He didn’t laugh.”

She shook her head, still laughing. “Of course you did. I can see his face now.”

Seb grinned, watching her with that familiar mix of amusement and fondness. He reached out, catching her hand as she absentmindedly toyed with the simple ring on her middle finger.

“What’s this one?” he asked, his thumb brushing over the cool metal.

“It’s nothing special,” she said, her tone softening. “Just something my mom gave me years ago. I’ve worn it ever since.”

Seb didn’t respond immediately, his focus entirely on her hand. He slipped the ring off her finger, turning it over between his own.

“Seb…” she said, her voice curious and a little teasing.

“Relax,” he murmured, sliding the ring back on—but not onto her middle finger. Instead, he placed it deliberately on her left hand, the one meant for promises and forever.

She blinked, her laughter fading as she glanced down at the ring, now resting on her fourth finger. 

He didn’t say anything, just met her gaze with a steady, playful glint in his eyes, daring her to respond.

Her lips curved into a soft, lopsided smile, the kind that hinted at emotions she wasn’t ready to name. “You know that’s not where it goes,” she said quietly.

“I know,” he replied, his voice low and even. His thumb brushed over the ring, now snug against her finger. “But I’d like it to be someday.”

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶

✯ authors note: I was listening to ttpd and I literally thought that moment was too cute to not make a story about inspired on that moment.

English is not my first language and I hope you liked it <3

[cherryc1nnam0n]

Dad's not home | Modern!Eddie Munson x AFAB!Reader x Stepdad!Jim Hopper

Summary: You've been dating Eddie for months now and he's grown very fond of someone from your own family... Luckily, they both share the same love for you 🩷

Cw: 18+, Stepcest, pansexual!Eddie, slut!Eddie, stepdad!Hopper, talk of beefy Hopper, lots of dirty talk, cheating, threesome, anal sex, unprotected p in v, 2 guys 1 girl, masturbation (male receiving), excessive cumming Eddie, nipple play, little angst with happy ending, plot twist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~•~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You loved Eddie very much, so so much you let him do anything he wanted, you never ever questioned him or even felt jealous of him, he was the perfect boyfriend and you were the perfect partner for him

So due to this unbreakable trust you had on him, you never expected what was going to come...

You were home alone at the cabin you lived in with your stepdad, your mother had passed a few years ago and having nowhere else to live, you decided to stay with him, being the chief of police and a genuinely nice man you trusted him and he made great company and food

But one thing he didn't like were visits, he knew Eddie, having arrested him multiple times for speeding or drug dealing, he didn't expect you to date him and he didn't like him at his house one bit, so you had to be sort of sneaky when you wanted him to come over either to hang out or fuck your brains out

So here you were in bed, texting your boyfriend to invite him over, feeling particularly needy of his dick

Hey babe

My step dad's not home ;)

I know

That threw you off guard, what does he mean he knows?

Wdym you know??

He realized his mistake, quickly texting back an answer

I mean, idk it's a tuesday at night, he's probably working right?

"Hmmm, that was weird, but okay" oh poor naive you, believing his reply you texted again

Yeah you're right

Wanna come over? ;)

"Shit" Said Eddie thinking of an excuse you would believe, but, you would believe anything he told you anyway

Sorry babe can't do, I'm helping Wayne fix his truck

"Damnit" you said to yourself when you read his text, he was once again busy to not come over

K, love u

Love u too

"Good boy, and she doesn't even suspect a thing huh? Such a shame she trusts you so much, won't ever see it coming" Hopper's voice spoke into Eddie's ear

Truth was, Eddie did know where your step dad was, because he was currently at a motel with him, getting his ass pounded by the older man

"Shit, please just stop talking and fuck me"

"Bratty tonight are we? I'll fuck the attitude out of you" Said the older man grabbing onto Eddie's waist and starting to really ram into him, making the younger one gasp and moan as his eyes rolled back, phone discarded somewhere on the creaking bed

Oh poor naive you...

Next time something weird happened was when you and Eddie were at his place watching a movie, said movie was not of your interest as you were jerking off your boyfriend under the blanket you had on your laps, suddenly you felt him twitch and he groaned particularly loud, you looked at the screen and a beefy dad bod man was on the screen, you could see his body jiggle as he walked and he looked damp with water or sweat, you failed to notice how Eddie bit his lip and came all over your hand unexpectedly

"What? So soon Ed's?"

"Shit s-sorry, I just-" he scrambled over his words "I just, have been really needy for you babe" he lied to your face so easily now, reality was that he was reminded of those nights he got fucked by your step dad when he saw that man who had a similar body complex as his forbidden lover "Sorry babe, lemme make it up to you, m'kay?"

You couldn't say no to that...

But the last straw was when he kept on denying you again, and again, and again, always coming up with lame excuses you were starting to get tired of

"I have a very important deal to get to"

"Sorry babe, I don't feel so good tonight"

"Babe, my van has a flat tire"

"Sorry babe, I have explosive diarrhea"

"I AM DONE WITH THIS BULLSHIT!" You had enough of this game, so you set out on a plan to finally know what Eddie was up to instead of being with you

You started following him, his van was driving outside of town and into a secluded area, that's when you saw the sign of a motel down the road, your stomach sank when you realized where this was going

You parked far away from his van and saw him get out, look around and then stand outside it, smoking a cigarette as he seemed to be waiting for someone, maybe the girl he was cheating on you with

Another car was pulling in, and you swear you got whiplash, it was your step dad's police car pulling in, he parked next to Eddie's van and got off, rounding the vehicle to come over to your boyfriend and they started making out furiously, you felt like you could pass out from the betrayal, your boyfriend and your step dad?! Really?! You knew Eddie sometimes would ogle men like when Steve was wearing those tiny basketball shorts one day but to fuck your step dad?! This is a whole new level of low

You watched them go into a room so you decided to strike then, quickly jogging to the door and knocking on it

Inside the two men separated from their kiss and eyed the door, not expecting anyone to knock or even know who they were to begin with...

Hopper reluctantly got up to open the door and was met with a very you standing there, in pure reflex he closed the door cutting you off when you opened your mouth to yell at him

"Who is it?" Eddie asked sitting up on the bed

"Uhm... You might wanna cover your ears"

He opened the door again and you started yelling your heart out

"HOW DARE YOU?! HOW FUCKING DARE YOU FUCK MY BOYFRIEND?! HE'S MINE!!"

"Y/n?!" Eddie said as he heard you, you stormed into the room pushing Hopper away and coming to yank Eddie's hair "Not the hair! Not the hair!"

"YOU'RE A FUCKING WHORE MUNSON!"

"I'm sorry baby, I'm sorry" you had begun to strangle him with his own hair, wrapping it around his throat and he kept on smacking your arms to release him

"Okay that's enough baby" Hopper said grabbing you away from Eddie who grabbed his throat in pain "We're not the only ones wrong here"

"She was strangling me" Eddie said out of air

"NO LEMME GO! I'M GONNA KILL HIM!" You trashed around in Hopper's arms but he just chuckled

"Okay settle down, you're not a saint yourself baby"

"What? What do you mean?" Eddie asked from the floor

"I mean that, Y/n has been a bad girl for her daddy, right baby?"

That's when it clicked for Eddie, and he smiled triumphantly

"Aha! You're a whore also! You've been fucking Hopper too!" He said pointing at you

"Yeah and he was supposed to be only mine!"

"Well, I guess he likes guys too, right daddy?" Eddie said talking to Hopper, to which he chuckled again

"Okay okay, there's enough for the two of you, we can share if you want to?"

So that's how you ended up sandwiched between both men, back facing Hopper and he grinded against your ass while he made you and Eddie make out, hands roaming each other's bodies, you felt yourself being lifted and you knew it was your step dad making space for him to fuck you in the ass, having better access to your tits Eddie wasted no time in latching onto one and nursing on it while also looking to enter your pussy

"Fuck daddy, fuck me please"

"Already on it princess" Hopper said as he je started to fuck your ass, while Eddie followed behind on fucking your pussy, wrapping your legs around Eddie's waist as you were being held by Hopper

"Fuck, I'm so close, gonna cum, fuck gonna cum!" You moaned as both men kissed your shoulders, neck, back and chest and then each other over your frame

"Cum baby, lemme feel it" Eddie said ramming into your pussy as Hopper kept on destroying your ass

With one loud shriek you came all over Eddie as he pumped his cum into you, what you loved of him was how much he came all the time, he would literally bulge your stomach from how much he came inside you, meanwhile Hopper emptied out in your ass

"Your turn Eddie boy"

"Yessir"

Now on your back with your legs wide open, Eddie on all four's eating you out while Hopper fucked him from behind, it was beautiful sight to see, how good Eddie took Hopper's 9 incher in his ass and how it brushed against his prostate every time he moved, and how his tongue was fucking your pussy along with Hopper's rythm was all too much and too good all over

"Fuck, fuck!" Eddie moaned into your pussy as he neared his peak, cock twitching as he prepared to cum again

"Cum Eddie, cum all over yourself Ed's, such a good boy" you praised him as his eyes rolled back and he came all over the bed, he thrusted two fingers in you as he sucked hard on your clit to make you cum too, your eyes rolled back as you reached your orgasm along with Hopper who was cumming in Eddie's ass

"Fuck... This was so good" Hopper said out of breath pulled out of your boyfriend's ass

"Too good..." You said as Eddie fell on you and you kissed his head "I'm sorry for cheating on you first"

"It's okay, at least we cheated with the same hot guy" Eddie yelped when he received a slap on the ass from Hopper

"Behave you two, or I'll punish you both"

You looked at Eddie and smiled at each other, wanting to tease Hopper some more

Guess it didn't end that bad after all...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~•~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tagging my friendo @ali-r3n for supporting this nasty idea 💜

[keeryhours]

real love, baby - chapter two

Billy Hargrove x female! reader

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Billy Hargrove Masterlist

Summary:

You have another talk with Billy, and remember your first time together.

Warnings:

Smut (18+), Pregnancy, angst, talk of abortions, p in v, fingering, oral (m receiving)

Word Count: 4.1k

A/N:

I’m so excited you guys are digging this series 💕 Thank you so much for your support!

6 Weeks Pregnant

Being pregnant was weird. You were only six weeks along, but it felt like so much had changed already. Your period never came, obviously, which was honestly a welcome change. You got sick regularly, which was much less welcome. Your boobs hurt and were definitely bigger. You were so bloated your jeans didn’t even fit anymore. And you were crying over everything.

Especially Billy. You cried over him so hard that night you made yourself sick, your face and eyes red and your head aching. You knew it was a possibility that he wouldn’t stick around, but the things he had said to you…that he wanted you to get an abortion and wouldn’t be there at all. You were really on your own. You couldn’t expect someone else to be a dad in his place.

How were you supposed to do this with no help? No money, no job, not even done with high school. You knew your parents wouldn’t help. You dreaded them finding out, knowing it wouldn’t go well. At least you could hide it for a while longer.

You couldn’t even let your parents find out about you getting sick, because then they’d want to take you to the doctor before you could stay home from school. So instead you dragged your weary body to school, enduring the stares and whispers from your classmates.

At least you had Eddie. Eddie, who never left your side and stood up for you any time someone had the guts to say something to your face. The whole school assumed he was the father, anyway. Eddie didn’t mind. And it’s not like you could correct them. Billy still acted like he didn’t know you.

Carol and her bitch friends were the worst. You hated them. They were constantly staring at you, whispering and giggling to each other as they popped their bubblegum and twirled their hair. Their fake sweet voices as they taunted you - “How’s the baby?” “Aww, are you still feeling sick? I heard that goes away in the second trimester.” “Is Eddie excited to be a daddy?”

You wanted to punch them in their stupid smug faces. Maybe if they knew who the father really was, they’d have less to say.

Sometimes you thought about telling them. You thought about rubbing it in their faces, throwing Billy to the wolves and letting the whole school know yeah, Billy Hargrove fucked The Freak.

Their speculations about Eddie weren’t entirely unfounded, but they didn’t know that. There was nothing romantic between you and Eddie, but you had lost your virginities to each other around a year ago. It was more of a You’re my best friend and I trust you kind of situation rather than a passionate, romantic one. And you hadn’t done it again. It had been incredibly awkward the next day. And he was most definitely not this baby’s father.

You examined your body in the mirror every morning, wondering when you’d start to see a change. You would splay your hand across your stomach, affectionately almost. You admitted you were growing attached to the little baby growing inside. That’s why you couldn’t agree to an abortion. You somehow felt love for the tiny little guy already.

The next time you interacted with Billy, it was days after he found out. You were headed out of school to meet Eddie again when he pulled you aside beside the school. He looked around, making sure no one was anywhere within eyesight.

“So?” He said, whispering urgently.

You looked at him confused, your eyebrows furrowed. “So, what?”

He huffed a humorless laugh, looking away from you like he couldn’t believe you. “Are you getting the abortion? I told you I’d pay for it. I’ll take you, whatever. I’ll take care of it.”

You shook your head. “Billy, no. I don’t want an abortion.”

Billy stared at you like he couldn’t believe what you’d just said. He rubbed his hands over his face, frustrated. When he looked at you again, he looked pissed. “Come on, man. Don’t fuckin’ do this.”

“Don’t fucking do what?” You asked, keeping your voice down even though you were exasperated. “It’s my body. It’s my baby.”

Billy leaned forward. “It’s our baby,” he hissed, “Remember? I have a say in this too.”

“But you don’t get to tell me to have an abortion!” You huffed a disbelieving laugh. “I can’t believe you’re doing this.”

“You don’t understand what this is going to do to me,” he said. “It’s going to ruin my reputation-“

“As if mine isn’t already ruined,” you said angrily. “It always has been.”

“It’s going to ruin my chances of getting out of here and going home to California,” he continued without missing a beat. “And- you have no idea how my dad is going to react.”

You looked at him. You didn’t know anything about Billy’s family, he never offered any of that information. All you knew was he had a little sister at the middle school he drove home most days. You realized you didn’t know much about Billy’s life at all.

“I mean- we can get through this. If you help me, we can be okay.”

Billy laughed again, the kind of laugh that sent chills through your body and made you feel sick to your stomach. “There is no we. If you don’t want the abortion, you’re on your own. So think hard about it.”

He turned and left then, leaving you standing alone. Again.

Before

It was your average day at school - hell. You were ready to get home and away from all these people, to work on your D&D campaign with Eddie, Gareth, Jeff, and Grant.

The hallway was deserted as you grabbed your stuff from your locker - you liked to linger in the library until most of your classmates had already left. Your guard was completely down, so it made you jump when you heard someone call your name from behind you.

You turned to see Billy Hargrove of all people. He was pretty new to Hawkins and already the most popular guy in school. You had never interacted with him before, so you were confused as to what he’d want from you.

“Hey,” he said with a cocky smirk as you faced him, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Um…hi?” You said. You looked around the hall, seeing if Carol or Tommy or Tina were hiding somewhere, setting you up.

“I was thinking you might want to go out with me sometime?” He asked, suave smile on his face.

“Me?” You asked, eyebrows raised. “Go out with you?”

Billy chuckled, looking away before his eyes landed back on you. “Yeah. Maybe we could go for a drive?”

You looked around again. “Now?”

“Sure,” he said. “Or I could pick you up tonight.”

You stared at him. “You’re fucking with me.”

“I’m not,” he said with a laugh. He moved closer, placing a hand on the locker next to your head and leaning in closer to you. “Do you not know how hot you are?”

You blushed furiously. No one had ever called you hot before, least of all someone like Billy. In fact, Carol and her friends made fun of you daily and called you a Freak. “Uh…well, I have D&D stuff right now, so…”

Billy laughed again, then gave you his best charming smile. “I’ll pick you up at 7 then?”

Your heart beat wildly in your chest. This felt like a bad idea. It felt like you were being set up. But at the same time…you did have a crush on Billy, just like every other girl in school. You just never thought he’d give you the time of day. You usually saw him lingering around Tina.

“Okay,” you said, voice nearly a whisper. “7 is good.”

Billy smirked, pleased with himself, as you tore a piece of notebook paper and wrote your address. He took it between his pointer and middle finger, holding it up as he walked backwards away from you. “See you then, princess.” Then he turned and left.

You were still reeling from the interaction when you met Eddie at his van. He could tell immediately that something was up.

“What happened?” He asked as you climbed into the passenger seat of his van.

You turned towards him. “Billy Hargrove just asked me out.”

Eddie stared at you, before he started laughing. “Okay, yeah, right.” He started the van, the engine coming to life.

“I’m serious,” you said as he backed out of the parking lot. “He came up to me in the hallway and asked me out. I told him I had Hellfire stuff right now and he asked if he could pick me up at 7.”

Eddie was quiet for a moment. He glanced over at you. “You’re serious?”

“Yes!” You laughed. “I couldn’t believe it either.”

He let out a rush of air. “You’re sure he wasn’t fucking with you?”

“It didn’t seem like it. He…called me hot.”

“Well, you are hot,” Eddie laughed. “At least someone besides me finally recognized it.”

You laughed, pushing lightly at Eddie’s shoulder. “Shut up.”

“Are you going to go out with him?”

You thought for a moment. “I mean, yeah, I guess so. I gave him my address and told him 7 was okay.”

Eddie hummed. “I just…be careful, okay? You know his reputation. I don’t want him to use you and have to see you hurt.”

You smiled at your best friend. “I know. My expectations are low.”

He laughed, reaching over to pat you on the leg. “Just take care of yourself. And tell me everything tomorrow.”

When Eddie dropped you off at home after Hellfire, it was already 6pm. You sprinted upstairs to your room, thankful that your parents still weren’t home. It was probably date night, or whatever.

You changed out of your jeans and t-shirt from school and rummaged through your closet for something cute to wear. Most of your wardrobe consisted of jeans and band shirts, to be fair. Finally you landed on a cute sundress, black with flowers on it. It fell to mid thigh on you, something a little sexier than you usually felt comfortable wearing.

You went into your en suite bathroom, plugging in your curling iron. You quickly did some light makeup while waiting for it to heat up, then you styled some light curls in your hair. By the time you were done, it was almost 7.

You went downstairs and sat on the couch, nervous as hell as you waited. It wasn’t long before there was a knock at the door, and you jumped up, fixing your hair to perfection as you approached the front door. You opened it to see Billy standing there, having changed since you saw him at school. He wore a button up shirt with nearly half the buttons undone and showing off his toned chest, a necklace laying between his pectoral muscles. He had on his signature tight jeans and black boots. His curly hair looked perfect, like he had gone home and nervously styled it just like you had.

“Wow,” he said, giving you his most charming smile. “You look beautiful.”

You blushed, smiling back at him. “Thank you. You look handsome.”

Billy laughed, then held his hand out for you. “Ready to go?”

“Yes,” you said, trying your best not to sound as nervous as you felt. You took his hand as he led you out of the house, closing and locking the front door behind you. He escorted you to his Camaro, opening the passenger door for you and helping you in. He started the car and began driving.

He turned the radio on, Metallica playing over the speakers. You smiled at the music choice - “I love Metallica,” you said.

“Really?” Billy raised his eyebrows at you with a smile. “Good taste.”

You enjoyed the music as he drove, the evening already turning the skies dark. He drove until he turned down a dirt road, eventually coming up on Lover’s Lake and killing the engine.

Billy turned to you. “I thought we could spend some time out here…where no one will bother us.”

You were nervous. You knew couples only went to Lover’s Lake to make out, and usually more. Eddie was the only guy you’d ever kissed or had sex with.

Billy leaned towards you, his hand coming up to gently push a lock of hair behind your ear. “You really are beautiful, you know that?”

You blushed again, smiling as you turned away from him. “I don’t think that’s true.”

He cupped the side of your face with his large hand, turning your head to look at him. “You are. I wouldn’t just say that.” He leaned forward until his lips were brushing yours, butterflies going wild in your stomach and your heart threatening to beat out of your chest. “You’re one of the hottest girls I’ve ever seen.”

He pressed his lips to yours, and you couldn’t believe what was happening. Billy Hargrove was kissing you. His lips worked against yours expertly, nothing like the awkward, messy kisses with Eddie. His tongue slipped between your lips, insistently pressing against yours. You weren’t as experienced as him so you followed his lead, letting him control the kiss.

He kissed the corner of your lips then down your jaw and to your neck, biting and sucking at the skin there. You’d never felt that before. Your eyes closed and you moaned, feeling Billy’s smirk against your neck.

His hands felt you up over your dress, sliding up your bare thigh then caressing up your side until he was pawing at your tits. The way he moved was so hungry and primal, it made you dizzy.

“Billy,” you moaned, and he nearly growled, biting harder on your neck. His left hand moved back to your thigh and slid up your dress until he was playing with the band of your panties. You gasped when he traced his fingers over your clothed pussy, the material wet from your excitement.

“Already wet for me, huh princess?” He mumbled, fingers rubbing your core over your panties, making you shudder under his touch. His hand moved up to slip beneath them, and you gasped again at the feeling of his calloused fingers against your bare pussy. He rubbed between your folds, fingertips circling your clit. Your back arched against the seat, a high pitched moan accidentally slipping past your lips.

“Feel good?” He asked, his voice low. “You look so pretty like this.” His fingertips moved down, prodding at your entrance. You gripped onto his arm, like you might fall away if you didn’t have something to hold onto.

He pushed a finger inside, pumping it into you slowly. It wasn’t long before he added his second finger, curling them deep inside you and pressing against a spot that had your legs shaking. “Billy,” you moaned again, head falling back against the headrest.

He continued thrusting his fingers inside, his thumb rubbing against your clit. You felt pleasure rising in your belly, your thighs shaking around his arm as he brought you higher and higher. “C’mon, baby,” he muttered against your ear. “Cum for me.”

His words pushed you over the edge and you came around his fingers, crying out his name and squeezing your eyes closed as the pleasure tore through your body. When Billy removed his fingers you were sad at the loss, but your eyes went wide when he brought his fingers to his lips and licked them clean. Fuck.

“Why don’t we get in the backseat?” He said, kissing you again. You could taste yourself on his lips, which was strange.

“O…kay,” you said, climbing into the back with your shaking limbs. He crawled back behind you, maneuvering through the seats with a bit more difficulty. In the back he wasted no time grabbing onto you, pushing your dress up as he kissed you hard again.

Your head was spinning as he pushed your dress up and up, pulling it over your head and tossing it onto the floor. You were grateful you’d chosen a cute black lace matching bra and panties set, because Billy seemed to approve. You decided to make a bold move and unbutton the rest of his shirt, his hands sliding up your back and undoing your bra with the kind of ease only experience brings. You tried not to think about that right now.

He slid your panties down your legs, feeling the smooth skin as he slid his hands up your body. Then he reached for his own belt buckle, undoing it and his jeans and pushing them down just enough along with his boxers.

Your eyes widened again as his cock sprung free, long and hard and thick with precum leaking from his red tip. He had been straining against his clothes for a while, cock aching to be touched. He looked at you.

“Do you wanna suck it?” He asked, wrapping his fist around the base of his cock. He slowly stroked himself, watching you the entire time.

“I’ve never…” You couldn’t finish the sentence, blush rising to your cheeks as you admitted just how inexperienced you were.

“That’s okay, princess,” he said, suave as ever. “Do you wanna try?”

You did. He looked so good like this, you wanted a taste. He smirked as you leaned forward and replaced his fist with your own, your tongue coming out to lick the precum from his tip. He groaned, which encouraged you to keep going.

You sucked at his tip, and he rested his hand on the back of your head, encouraging you to take more. You sunk farther down on his cock, your mouth stretched wide as you did your best to take all of him. You gagged and coughed around him when he bucked his hips up into your mouth unexpectedly.

“Sorry, baby,” he said, voice strained. “Just felt so good.”

That gave you the confidence to keep going, your lips stretched around his girth as you began bobbing your head along his length. He tightened his grip on your hair, guiding you up and down the way he liked. The groans coming from him were so hot, it made you want to do even better for him.

You pulled off of him and licked all along his shaft, worshipping his cock, making a mess on him. The way he moaned let you know you were doing a good job and he loved this, loved when you sucked his cock all messy like that.

“That’s so good, princess, you’re doing amazing,” he praised you. You never thought you’d like being praised so much but it did something to you, and you enveloped him in your mouth again, taking his massive cock all the way down your throat until your nose was pressed against his base. Billy let out a strangled moan before he was pulling you off of him.

You looked at him confused - you thought you’d been doing a good job. You felt embarrassed until he said “That was too good, baby. Didn’t wanna cum in your mouth…at least not this time.”

He moved over you, making you lay back on the seat, the leather cool against your skin. He grabbed your hips and pulled until you were flat on your back and exactly how he wanted you. Your legs spread, he looked down at your pussy, licking his lips as he took in the view.

“I wanna taste that pussy next time,” he said, “but for now I need to be inside you.”

He reached into his back pocket, pulling out his wallet. He opened it and pulled out a foil packet, ripping it open with his teeth. You watched as he slid the condom onto his cock, so hard and flushed with his desire.

He traced his dick through your folds, collecting your slick on the condom. Then you felt his thick tip prodding at your entrance. You held onto his arm as he pushed inside, stretching you out intensely. Your back arched off the seat, a long whine coming from your lips as he pushed in deeper and deeper, seemingly endlessly. It felt like his cock went on forever.

When he was buried to the hilt, he shuddered, the feeling of your tight pussy nearly pushing him over the edge immediately. He wasn’t about to let that happen - it had never happened before and he wasn’t about to start now. He pulled back and thrusted into you, pulling another whine from you.

“Feel good, princess?” He asked, leaning over you as he set a steady pace, burying his face in your neck as he bit and sucked at the skin there again.

“You’re so big,” you whined, fingernails digging into his shoulders. “So so big.”

Billy chuckled, his hips speeding up as he slammed into you harder. Your eyes rolled back in your head - you’d never been fucked like this before. With Eddie it had been slow, awkward and sweet, but this was anything but. “Feels good though, yeah?”

“Yes,” you moaned. The car was rocking, the windows fogged up from the heat you were creating together. You knew if anyone came by, like Hopper, they’d know exactly what you were up to. The idea made your cheeks heat in embarrassment, but the pleasure was so good you didn’t really care.

Billy dug his fingers tighter into your hips, fucking you hard and fast. Soft grunts came from him with every thrust, his eyes falling closed before he forced them open again, watching your tits bounce as he fucked you.

“You’re so beautiful,” he groaned. “Fucking perfect. Perfect little pussy, so tight and hot and wet, taking me so good. You’re a natural, baby.”

His praise had you getting even wetter, pussy clenching around his cock which made his hips stutter. “Billy,” you moaned again and again, “Billy Billy Billy-“

It was stroking his ego, the way you were falling apart on his cock. He hadn’t even touched you yet, you were this pathetic and needy with nothing but his cock inside you. Knowing it would give you the final push you needed, he moved one hand from your hip and rubbed quick circles over your clit.

He was right, and you came hard, pussy throbbing around his dick as your back arched and you saw stars, calling Billy’s name over and over and over again as you came.

Billy had a smug smile on his face, he couldn’t believe how easy you had fallen apart for him. He fucked into you hard a few more times, grunting hard with every thrust until he stilled inside you, filling the condom with his cum as he groaned your name. It was the hottest thing you’d ever seen.

When both of you had caught your breath, he pulled out of you, pulling the condom off and throwing it somewhere outside. He collapsed onto the seat next to you, skin covered in a sheen of sweat. He handed you your clothes and you awkwardly put them back on as he tucked himself back away and re-buttoned his shirt.

You weren’t sure what would happen next. You felt a little uncomfortable, wondering what this meant for you and Billy. He climbed back into the front seat once he was dressed and you followed, settling back in the passenger seat and buckling your seatbelt. Billy started the car, pulling out of the spot and beginning the drive back to your house.

It was silent in the car on the way home, besides his music blaring from the speakers. You didn’t think he’d hear you even if you tried to speak. He finally turned it down when he reached your house, pulling to a stop out front. He turned to you then.

“Can we keep this between us?” He asked, looking at you for the first time since you’d finished.

“What?” You asked, confused.

“You know, keep it between us. Don’t tell anyone.” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “It just…wouldn’t be good for me, if this got out. But I do want to see you again.”

You were shocked, and a little hurt. But you didn’t know what else to say. “Okay.”

Billy smiled at you then. “Good.” He leaned forward and kissed you one more time. “I’ll pick you up this weekend?”

“Sure,” you said. Then you climbed out of the car, walking up the front walkway to the front door. Your parents were still gone. You unlocked the door and closed and locked it again behind you before heading back upstairs to your room. You laid down on your bed, replaying the evening in your mind.

Eddie had been right to tell you to be careful.

tag list

@rincallistis @holb32 @missingbillyhargrove @fandom-princess-forevermore @kenmasabg @pinklyred @seedlingghost @swiftieintheupsidedown

[acourtofthought]

Feyre to Rhys:

“I think I was falling in love with you for a while,” I said, the words barely audible over the trickle of water as I washed his beautiful wings. “But I knew on Starfall. Or came close to knowing and was so scared of it that I didn’t want to look closer. I was a coward.”

Nesta to Cassian:

“From the moment I met you, I wanted you more than reason. From the moment I saw you in my house, you were all I could think about. And it terrified me. No one had ever held such power over me. And I am still terrified that if I let myself have you … it will be taken away. Someone will take it away, and if you’re dead …” She buried her face in her hands. “It doesn’t matter,” she whispered. “I do not deserve you, and I never, ever will.”

Elain, currently around Lucien:

Elain only shrank further into herself, no trace of that newfound boldness to be seen.

"act hesitant"

"Pull back when things get to close"

"making excuses to distance themselves"

"sabotage potential relationships"

"may show interest but retreat when faced with the commitment required for a serious partnership"

Nesta / Elain to Cassian / Lucien after the war; a war that saw both Nesta and Elain sharing moments with their mates:

“Stop following me. Stop trying to haul me into your happy little circle. Stop doing all of it.”

She just ignored him or barely spoke to him until he got the hint and left.

Nesta had made it clear enough she had no interest in Cassian—not even in being in the same room as him.

“She wants nothing to do with me.”

“I don’t think she’ll tolerate two minutes alone with me, so forget about two weeks.”

“I’ve made my thoughts clear enough on what I want from you.”

"She has no interest in him anyways"

He knew about the drinking, about the males. He told himself he didn’t care. He told himself he didn’t want to know who the bastard was who had taken her maidenhead. Told himself he didn’t want to know if the males meant anything—if he meant anything. He didn’t know why the hell he cared. Why he’d bothered. Even from the start.

"I'm talking about you, about to kiss Elain, in the middle of the hall where anyone could see you, including her mate"

I don't know how much more obvious Sarah can make the parallels at this point.

Elain was willing to hook up with Az because she's not afraid of feeling anything intense for him just like Nesta wasn't afraid to hook up with many others outside of Cassian despite having feelings for Cassian.

In the novella and SF, both sisters demonstrated behaviors that track with pulling away from the one who they could share the deepest feelings with because of being afraid and SF proved this was the case for Nesta.

They both lost so much in such a short time, of course they'd be afraid of losing the one person they share a mating bond with as that bond is deeper than anything they'd ever felt. Nesta wasn't afraid to lose a random guy at the bar which is why she let herself engage in a way she wouldn't with Cassian and in a similar vein, I don't think Elain was afraid to have things with Az not work out. That she was willing to make out with him after spending a year barely talking to him tells me that she doesn't have much invested in him, that she's not fearful of what opening herself up to him could mean if something happens to him. But opening herself up to Lucien would mean more and that more is what set her up for her past heartbreak (not to mention that it's canon a mating bond will always bring out even more intense feelings than that of regular love). I will never believe that she lost the fiancé she loved with all her heart, a guy who truly broke her, followed by the immediate loss of her father (the first man she ever loved) a little over a year ago but was ready to run into the arms of Az on Solstice (someone who avoided her for most of that year) and bare her soul wide open for him. That she was ready to love him. That she was ready to start another lifelong commitment to him. That does not track with true loss / healing, it does not track for the progression E/riel had on page and it definitely doesn't track for Elain considering we had zero declarations / actions showing that she has any real feelings for Az. What makes the most sense is that she's running scared from the person who was given a direct link to her soul regardless of how much time they spend together. Not only does it make sense from a psychological standpoint, that the person she is the most drawn to is the one she's experiencing the fear of commitment issues with after her pervious losses, but it also makes sense based on how Sarah did this exact same thing with Nesta and has written Elain to be having a very similar response.

[aguinhac]

I drew berror a lucidia redesign, because I'm still sad he ain't a part of lucidia, I don't care if it makes sense or not, I am adding him to everything I can add him.

In retrospect I shouldn't have drawn him with this pose, consirering... You know, you can't see his glov-

Bonus:

look at him, he so silly.

B̵̖͎͕̞̪͐͗̏̔͊̈́́̒̌̕e̷̡͕̍͋r̸̨͕̭̹̟̓̈́̽̄́̒̈́͒͊͋͒̋̍͐̏̚͠͠r̷͇̞͓͍̫͚̩͎͍̫͇̊́̉́͊̽̃̓͋͐͒̋́̾̃̈́̚͠ȍ̵̧̙̦̗̪͕͈͑͋̂̔͊̆̽̀̔͆̓r̶̢̡̢̮͔͈̗̪̮̙̱̰̘̠̭͉̙̣͑̿̑͜͝ and lucidia by @loverofpiggies

⚠️ Warning ⚠️ Someone getting overly upset about spooky scary skeletons below 👇

Ok, first things first, before having the idea for this, I had no idea what “Lucidia” was, I literally though it was the name of the redesign, but then I found out it was a series, I simply though it was just an UT AU, read like two pages, thought “coming from crayon queen this AU must be huge” and decided to just read it later, cause that's something I do sometimes. (still trying to find some time to read fatal error lmao)

One day I was scrolling through ask error trying to find a specific panel for reference cause I was planning a comic, and there were some asks about Lucidia, I read those and found out Lucidia was actually something completely unrelated to Undertale, and that error and fresh would now be their own characters instead of Undertale AUs.

because I am a whiny bitch, that thought scared me and I didn't want to read it anymore, but the voices in my head told me, just cause they are now independent characters is not like they are gonna disappear, and for me to man up and read the thing, so I manned up, read the comic, and there was like 5 pages.

I told myself: there is NO WAY Lucidia is this short, and I decided to search more about it for two reasons: one I had the berror redesign ready cause I made it like a year ago for something else unrelated, but I was willing to change somethings about it, and by knowing more of Lucidia I was hoping I could it make the redesign better, and two, I was curious, I had read a little bit about it but I wanted to learn more, (maybe get some more info about errors?) so I started looking, so I read through some wikis and found- Almost nothing.

But I am a self proclaimed Dreamtale expert, I am used to going through wikis and finding almost jack-shit, so I instead I went directly on crayon queen’s blog, and I guess I found a little bit, but… when I did the Dreamtale comparison, I was not joking, searching Lucidia canon reminded me a lot searching for Dreamtale canon, the key differences being that when I searched for Dreamtale I knew that there was info, It was just scattered around, and I had some idea of what I was looking for because one of the first things you find in joku’s blog is character names, but when looking for Lucidia canon, I had no idea what I was looking for, or how much there was to look for, unlike Dreamtale that everything I learned helped me learn something new, in Lucidia everything I learned made me feel there was less to learn, if this makes any sense.

And even worst, there were moments where this fucking thing called me stupid, not joking, when I am reading through Dreamtale and don't understand something I can give the excuse “I don't speak Spanish” LUCIDIA in the other hand was all written in english, and I still wasn't understanding it, “I couldnt give the I don't speak the language” excuse anymore, it's laughtable the amount of times this series called me illiterate, Let me repeat, A SERIES called me DUMB, A SERIES THAT HASN'T BEEN UPDATED SINCE 2021, CALLED ME STUPID.

I can't say I haven't learned anything about it, I learned about spice named reapers, reaper ranking, proferror and circuit… and that's pretty much it.

Well, I might have wasted my time on an AU that I don't even know if it's canceled or not, and that in the end did not help me design the character, did not teach me about errors, and with such a small amount of info about it, didn't satisfied my curiosity, BUT, reaper x error (a ship that I do not like) became 10X times funnier, so there's that.

[spotaus]

Thinking about Cross' reunion with his brother!!! (New Age AU lore run under the cut lmao-) ( @ancha-aus this is what I was on about a few messages ago!)

So, Ancha mentioned it a while ago, but I agree that Cross and his brother Nine should certainly get to see each other again <3 (this post might involve things I've said before but I have horrid memory soooo my apologies lol-) Note: I'm thinking Nine should be Cross' older brother! It makes sense narratively and also I've got too many older siblings in the Main cast haha-

Cross (Ten at the time) had a strained relationship with his older brother. X-Gaster was their only parent, and created them with the intention of making the perfect super soldiers, men who would obey his every command. Nine was the only one of X-Gaster's previous attempts to survive, and he was very.... maliciously compliant we'll say? Nine was a clever skeleton who would follow his creator's every command, so well that any and all loopholes would be taken advantage of whenever possible. Nine did not like X-Gaster, and he didn't like his rule, and he didn't like how the people were treated.

Of course, he had to make a hard choice when Ten was created. X-Gaster wanted to use Ten as an anchor to hold Nine back from his rebellion. If he had a little sibling to worry about, surely he would be more obedient, right? Well, no. Nine made sure X-Gaster never could use Ten against him by doing his rebellion regardless of how Ten was treated. Did it hurt? Yeah. Did he know he couldn't afford to let Ten get hurt by his connection to him? So badly. He ignored Ten for much of his life, which meant that X-Gaster gave up on using him for leverage, but was also given the chance to craft Ten exactly how he wanted without any of Nine's backlash.

Aka? Ten got manipulated by X-Gaster. Nine broke the rules, and he got punished. Ten did well? He was treated well. It turned out that Ten was his perfect soldier, and Nine was the one he could keep around to keep Ten in check.

And, Ten adored Nine. When they got older, Ten never stopped looking up to Nine, even if he thought Nine was reckless and stupid for being disobedient. He knew Nine had his reasons, and frankly? Nine showing him ANY kindness (helping him patch up wounds after training, leaving treats for him, looking at him kindly, etc.) was better than nothing and far better than X-Gaster. They had a really strange and unhealthy bond, but brotherly nonetheless.

So when they were both older, abd Nine was planning the coup, and he tried to bring Ten to his side? It hurt. It hurt both of them when Ten turned away. Ten never said a word about how it was Nine who asked him to join. He told X-Gaster someone tried, and he denied them, but nothing more. And then when the Coup was in motion and Nine had to face Ten? They both had to do what they thought was best. Ten obeyed, all he's ever known, and Nine finally broke the rules and laid all his cards on the table.

And when they won, when Ten was left without a master, when he'd fought hard against his older brother? When Ten was without direction and looked to Nine, but he couldn't follow Nine because Nine had broken all their rules... Nine was willing to watch out for Ten. There was no more threat of X-Gaster, they could finally live as siblings, but Cross had been too indoctrinated. He was too adamant during the coup. No one else could trust him, they didn't want him around, nothing. So he was honest with Nine and told him he was leaving, in passing, before simply running away.

When the opportunity to reunite arises, it's because Cross' original kingdom wants to be allies. It's been years, Nightmare is hardly 18 or so, and he's been slowly working to bring people together. When the kingdom reaches out, they also ask about Ten, because it's not exactly a secret as to where he eventually ended up. They want to reconnect.

Night is cautious. Cross assures him Nine wouldn't support leaders who weren't doing their best, so an allyship would make sense. Night is more worried for Cross' wellbeing and the threat it might pose to him (physically or emotionally) to face those in his old kingdom. So, they agree that Nightmare would visit with Killer and Dust as his initial party. Cross would stay back with Horror (and Blue + Dream as added back-up as Knights) at the kingdom.

Only after several visits of Night's (and discussing it very heavily with Lust, the other Knights, Night, etc) does he decide he'll go in person. By then he's the only Royal Knight who hasn't gone with Nightmare, and they decide he'll go alongside Killer (Killer could be trusted to keep an eye on both Cross and Night, and as the first Knight it's kinda like a dibs situation to be able to look out for Cross).

And like. I haven't quite fleshed out Nine's personality yet... but I do believe that the moment he meets Nightmare and his men (because Nine became head of the guard in Cross' absence) he's unable to help himself from greeting Cross with a "Ten!" And I think Cross would recoil because, reading his old name is one thing, hearing it said is another. And he's really not sure how to respond.

(This is going to keep sitting in my drafts if I don't post it now, but basically this is just a quick look at my thought process so far for Cross + his Brother lol-)

[risu442]

Jeff Satur in his own Words - #Legend interview

Q: Are they any ongoing projects or creative works you're focusing on right now?

J: These days it's mostly festivals. I also have a show coming soon and there'll be an EP in english as well as new songs. This year I'm focusing quite a lot on music. Last year the work was very varied. This year there also will be concerts. Towards the end of the year I'll be producing a series called "Happy ending".

Q: Is there a song of yours that you feel especially connected to?

J: If I had to pick a song that feels like the origin of many things it would be "Why don't you stay". It marked the beginning of a journey, a spark that unexpectedly set many things in motion. Back then after exploring various carreers I returned to acting full-on. People forgot that I was once a singer 10 years ago, things like that. That song brought back my identity as a singer and reminded people "Oh, this is that Jeff Satur".

Q: Your music videos often carry hidden messages. How involved are you in the creation of your music videos?

J: I'd recommend watching my latest music video 'Ride or Die'. It was one of the most exhausting shoots I've ever done. You'll see why once it's out. Recently, I've been listening a lot of Elvis\laufey along with jazz, blues and soul with old-school vibes. It makes me feel refreshing and breath easier. (Thanks for answering but not the question- Risu)

Q: Do you have any plans to release an international album in the future?

J: I've been working on songs with a producer in Sweden and there are quite a few we've written. The opening track for the EP, in English is Ride or Die. Ride or Die is like a bird without legs - it has to keep flying because stopping means death. The song is faster than anything I've done before. Most of my tracks are slow or mid-tempo, this one is truly upbeat. I think it's going to be so much fun to perform live and hope everyone will rock out of the hook.

Q: We've noticed that your concertfashion is always fun and fancy. Where do the ideas behind these looks come from?

J: Usually, I just wear what I bought that day because there's no choice. Just kidding. I want every show I perform whether it's the setlist or the performance itself to be unique, not just the same show repeated over and over. I don't see it as simply playing a concert or anything like that. For me it's about creating a fresh show everytime. Even outfits, like, what will I wear today? Things like that. It's the fun in deciding wheter tomorrow I want to wear the same kind of clothes or stay in my comfortzone. Honestly, I'm a person who get bored easily. Even with the setlist. So I always want to make it diffrent and unique. For each show I gather references and brief the team. For instance, if I perform in the North, I want to incorporate elements that reflect the North region, add it as a gimmick while staying true to myself.

Q: If you could collaborate with any artist in the world, who would it be?

J: I'd like to work with Elvis though he is no longer with us, but truly still willing to work with him. His comeback era is so inspiring, it's magical. Singing alongside him would have been incredible and a huge experience for me.

Q: Your song 'Rain Wedding' has recived great feedback. Could you share a bit about the creative process behind this song?

J: Actually the song 'Rain Wedding' something I wrote a long time ago. I had told my fans, 'Khun Wan-sao' - You know, there's going to be a song about a wedding, about the rain. That's how it started before evolving into the version you hear now. I completly reworked it, keeping only the chords and the first verse. I deconstructed the song delving into the lyrics along with recapture that feeling of 'Thongkham' and bring them back into the song then wave it into the melody. This song, I collaborated with khun Vivi who's both a songwriter and a writer. Then, her skill is truly brings an added elegance to the song. Then, I incorporated my own elements, tweaking certain parts and adding new ones. I remember that the phrase 'Hug Jao Lai' was there from the demo version. It just came out naturally. So was 'Yam Muea Fon The Long Ma' which has been part of the song since the very beginning, which I produced it, naturally. These became signature lines that I kept intact. The whole process was incredibly fun! And it's incredible how many people have gone to see the movie and shared their thoughts, saying: "Wow, it feels completly diffrent!". Watching it changed the meaning of the song entirely. It's reached a point where people watch the film just to discover how the song's meaning evolves. Initially, it's a love song, but later it becomes... something else.

Q: As someone who has overcome challenges: What advice would you give to those still searching for themselves?

J: The diffrence lies in self-awerness, I belive. Often we live under pressure without realising it, pressured by our own expectation and the others'. It's a normal part of life no matter the profession. But the moment we become aware of it we free ourselves from the unspoken rules of life. That awerness allows us to move forward without constantly worrying about whether something is "good enough" for this person or that person. Sometimes we forget that the most important thing to focus in life is whether we, ourselves are happy with what we've done. Success is fine, it's how society defines who has "made it" and who hasn't. But it's not necessary for us to strive to meet those. It's just life, and the question is: Do we enjoy what we're doing? No one can hold onto a throphy forever, at some point, we all have to set it down. So enjoy success and enjoy failure as well. In the end success and failure don't really exist. What remains is simply whether we loved and found happiness in it.

Q: Who is your #Legend?

J: It's still Elvis for me. He continues to inspire me deeply such as how he performed on stage. I watch his performances repeatedly and it's not just about singing or acting. He poured his souls into his shows. Even if I didn't understand any about music but I belive I still feel the spirit he conveyed without the need of knowledge to understand. That's what we, as artists need to preserve. I'm working in an industry driven by a huge amount of trends. The best thing we can do is not let those trends control us. Staying true to who we are and creating art that genuinely represents us is vital. That's what Elvis taught me, learning from mistakes and be the real artist that truly communicate to audiences, with heart.

Q: Could you tell us about 'Khun Wan-Sao'? Could you share a memorable story involving your fans?

J: Hmm, what truly impressed me is seeing Khun Wan-Sao and other fans following us to diffrent places even to provinces I'd never been to before. I aimed to visit all four regions of Thailand seeking festivals that truly represents each regions. Sometimes, I confuse about the names like Chiang Mai and Chiang Rai, but still want to reach every part of the country. What's heartwarming is people came sang along our songs and some even showed up just to hear us perform. That's incredibly touching and it's moment that reminds me why I wanted to be a singer. And it's because of the privilege given to connect with fans from all over.

[lovelystarkersworld]

tw: underage, incest

thinking about tony being peters dad and working high up in the mafia world, being one of most sought after men by police but never been able to pin anything on him. he's feared by everyone but his precious baby boy who knows his dad would never lay a hand on him

thinkin about how tony would chase off any boys who so much as looked at peter even before he truly understood how much he desired his boy. the one time he'd let someone be with his precious boy, they'd broken his heart when Peter caught him kissing a girl behind the school bleachers and he'd come home with fat tears rolling down his pretty cheeks.

peter had to physically stop his dad from blowing his brains out later that night. he'd woken up from a nap due to the exhaustion of crying and last he remembered he was curled up in his dads strong arms. he asked the security around and they all told him the same, "he's taking care of someone." peter knew what his dad was, he wasn't stupid and it didn't take a genuis to realize who he was after. he forced Bucky to take him where his dad was and he found him beating the poor boy in an empty alley way. it was pouring rain and Peter jumped between his ex and the gun, waving his arms around and telling Tony that it was okay. This was just a teenage mistake and he's sure the boys learned his lesson by now.

they go home in silence but Peter can feel the irritation fuming off of his dad so he reaches over and rests one of his smaller hands over the older man's bruised knuckles, "I appreciate what you did for me." He knows it's a bit fucked up but he did like the way his dad stood up for him, it made his teenage body run with hormones.

it's not until his dad as refused to let him go on another date that Peter is losing his patience. The boy who cheated on him was three years ago! He was 16 now for gods sake! Everyone around him was trying to go out and they were looking for homecoming dates, some had even done stuff together and here he was. He hadn't even had his first kiss because Tony wouldn't let any boy near him. Sure, Peter could date behind his back but he didn't want to know what would happen if Tony ever found that out so he refrained from doing it.

Now that Peter was growing and going through puberty, Tony couldn't help but notice how good he looked. His ass was the perfect shape for groping and he wished he could reach over and take a handful when Peter walked around in those tiny sleep shorts. A part of him hated himself for his thoughts but he was mainly turned on, the idea of his boy being only his was thrilling.

It's when Peter walks into the kitchen one morning in just one of Tony t shirts that he probably stole and some tight boxer briefs that Tony is finally giving in the want to feeling you his son. He corners the boy up against the island and lets his hands roam the others body, "It's like you're begging for me, Pete." He'd say as he finally got a nice handful of the boys ass.

Peter would flush red and tremble under the touch but he wasn't upset about it, in fact it only served to make his cock twitch. He'd never been touched like this before, never had someone admire him like his dad is. It was a side effect of Tony isolating the boy from dating and the older man was now thankful for his strict rules because Peter wasn't denying his touches due to how desperate he was.

Tony would bend Peter over the island and pull down the tight boxers. He fondles the globes for a while and even begins to thrust his clothed dick up against the boys hole roughly, hips moving back and forth as if he was fucking into him. Peter would cry out at the feeling of rough jeans hitting his sensitive hole, his cheeks being held open by Tony's thick fingers.

Tony would eventually pull himself out and grind his cock between the boys cheeks, enjoying the moans his sweet boy let out beneath him. His grip on the ass was rough, digging in his short nails as he fucked up into the crack, "My slutty baby." He would coo softly as tears filled his sons eyes. Poor Peter would be so desperate to feel some touch but his cock was trapped in his briefs and his dad had grabbed both his arms, pinning them behind his back as he grinded against him like a dog.

Tony would cum all over the boys ass, painting it white and then he would force the boy up straight. He would pull his boxers off and begin to stroke his cock rapidly, "Such a good boy for your dad." Peter wouldn't be able to hold back any of his moans and his hands would move up to grip Tony's thick biceps. He'd lean up for a kiss and Tony was more than happy to give him one, it's sloppy and wet--Tony basically shoving his tongue down Peters throat.

The young boy would cum over his dads fist and when he raised it to his mouth and demanded he cleaned it, well Pete was always a good boy for his daddy.