#he was so kind i promise i’ll stop crying and i’ll shut up about it but not today CKSKDK

[chelseasdagger]

Charlie Cox is literally the sweetest person. He had seen so many people that day, and he still treated me as if I was the first. He smiled big and shook my hand, said it was okay that I was shaky, and even called me “my dear”. His presence was so welcoming and gentle and while I was so anxious to meet him, it all felt okay when I was near him

During the questions panel he was very fun and even giggled (yes literally) at some of Vincent’s answers. He also apologized to the fans that were lined up for questions that they ran out of time for. His line for autographs went halfway down the main convention hall, but I overheard that he was skipping lunches and breaks because he wanted to sign as much as he could

I’ve always heard he was sweet, but seeing it in person is a whole other thing. He was truly incredible and yesterday was the best day ever. I’m so thankful I got the chance to experience it

[luveline]

i would absolutely love a Hotch and stripper reader, him taking care of her after some kind of incident at her club or something? maybe a bit of angry hotch at the beginning, some angst? 💗💗💗

Your throat burns by the time his car pulls up. 

You take the butt of the cigarette from between your lips and ash it next to the first. Your hand is sore between the index finger and thumb from a bad stretch, aching as you press into your pocket for your stolen box of Marlboro golds. You’ll apologise for taking them some other time. 

You press the third between your lips and flick the lighter. You’re not good at lighting them, worse at the first inhale, your throat an agony that rivals the sting of your battered cheek. 

Shoes on the sidewalk, a scratch of loose gravel. Your eyes well with another line of tears that you work hard to hold in, taking another quick, cruel drag. They don’t make cigarettes long enough, in your opinion. They don’t last. 

He stops in front of you. Quiet, Agent Hotchner looks down at you where you’re sitting on the low wall, expression as steely as ever. You meet his eyes, worried your wobbly lip is giving you away, not sure calling him was the right thing to do after all. 

When he raises his hand to the cigarette you let him take it. His fingers wrap carefully around the butt of it, the side of his thumb brushing your lips. 

He flicks it to the ground and steps on it flat. 

You don’t say hello. It’s obvious you’ll cry, he can tell too, and he doesn’t make you. You wince as he raises his hand again, your eyes squinting closed, but he isn’t going to hurt you. His palm is warm where it cups your cheek, turning your face to the light emanating off of the club neons. 

“Do you know his name?” he asks. 

“No.” 

He raises your chin higher still. His frown turns to a glare, the brunt of which is directed elsewhere but intimidating all the same. His touching is gentle at least. 

“What happened?” 

“I told him no.” 

His jaw ticks. “Can I take you home?” 

You sniffle, turning your face out of his hand and down to your lap. He’s kissed you, he’s done more than that, but he knows you’d felt like you had no choice and so he’s giving it to you now. It’s exactly why you’d called him. It’s the man he is, and he should never have ended up looking after you. 

“Sorry I called you,” you say, hiding your face in one hand. Pain flickers behind your eyes as tears mount for the tenth time tonight. 

Hotch gives a sigh, sitting on the wall beside you. He wraps his arm behind your back and with a familiarity you need desperately. You press yourself into his side, sew your arm hesitantly over his stomach, the starch of a pressed shirt crisp on your clammy skin. 

“It’s cold out here,” he murmurs, bringing both hands to your arm, one to hold you tight, the other to rub your cool skin. 

“I think I want to quit.” 

He nods into the side of your head. “I think you should,” he says, “if that’s what you want… honey, you can do whatever you want.” 

“I don’t think I can. I’m trapped and it’s my fault.” 

“It’s not your fault.” He encourages your head under his, your face to his neck. When he talks, it’s a quiet, lulling promise. “You’re not trapped. I’ll do anything you need me to do. If you want an apartment, I’ll get it for you. If you want to shut this place down, I will. The last thing either of us want is for you to work here when you don’t want to.” 

“You don’t have to say work here like I’m not a glorified prostitute,” you say hotly, anger turned in rather than out. 

“You don’t really think that.”

Being a sex worker is complicated. You don’t know how you feel about it, and you can’t ever understand why Hotch would bother with you. You’d worried at first that your vulnerability is what attracted him, like a kid with a broken bird, but he’s proved a hundred times that your job is pretty much separate from why he likes you. He thinks you're pretty. He loves your voice. You make each other laugh, and somehow inexplicably he’s the first person you call when things go wrong. 

“Quit your job,” he says. “Even if it’s just to dance somewhere else.” 

“You can say strip.”

He nods. “You shouldn’t have to worry whether your ‘no’ will be met with a backhand. You know that breaks my heart?” 

You blink and pull away from him. He isn’t unemotional, but it’s a surprise nonetheless to hear him talk like this. “Aaron–” 

“Please,” he says. “I shouldn’t ask you to. But there are better places for you. You deserve more.” 

If it were anyone else you might get defensive. Only people who do your job could understand why you do it, it’s a hundred different things to you, but you do deserve more. You’re sick of leery men, sick of wolf whistles and bad tips and other people's hands. Hotch has never asked you to stop, but now he is, it’s to keep you safe. 

You can’t begrudge him. 

“I’m sorry,” you say. 

“No.” He rubs your arm. “I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that. And I’ll make it right.” 

“It’s not your fault.” 

“I’ll make it right,” he promises. “No matter what. No one gets to hurt you.” 

You could quit. You want to. Even if it’s just for a couple of weeks, just so you don’t have to pretend you know what you’re doing. You’ll think about it in the morning. “Could I stay with you for a bit?” you whisper. “Just tonight. Please.” 

Hotch taps your back for you to stand. He stands with you, brushing down your coat, his eyes impassive where they look over your face, your purpling bruise. 

“You can wait in the car,” he says quietly. “I’m going to ask a few questions inside before we leave.” 

[takuma-talkz]

ok so how about a 388 x reader, where reader goes into the games with their ex (they force the reader to) and throughout the entire time there the ex is very toxic and abusing so it reaches a point where reader approaches 456's group to ask to stay w them and 388 takes it upon himself to protect reader

Treat You Better (Better than he can)

A requested Dae-ho x reader Fic

a/n: Aazix!! is here! This is my first decently written fic. I hope the anon who requested got everything they asked for in the fic. Since the anon didn’t make it clear on what gender they wanted, the reader, I decided to make the reader, gender neutral, with very little implications to gender.

additionally the title is a reference to a song, take a guess and see!

Warnings: Swearing, physical abuse, degrading terminology (bitch, whore, etc.)

dividers credits: @dollywons <3

You woke up to the blinding lights and blaring music. 

“Yo, [____]” Your boyfriend called out for you from under your bed. You called back in a sleepy mumble.

“I’m here.” 

He hopped out from the bed and gestured for you to do the same. Climbing down and standing next to him. You attempted to grab his hand but being the fucking prick he is, he yanks his hand away.

“Listen here, we are here to make money. Not to drain me of my mental, when you’re scared shitless for no reason.” His usual venom was present in his voice. 

“I-I’m sorry…it’s just there are so many strangers her-“ He cuts you off.

“Shut the fuck up. All you ever do is ruin my fucking life and bitch away at everything.” You look down and take notice of his number, 445.

You looked at yours. 389.

That’s when the guards come in. 

They explained that you’ll be playing games in exchange for a whopping 45.6 billion won in six days. 

“See? Whining my ear off for no reason.” Your boyfriend can’t help but belittle you.

After signing the consent form, you were taken to a set of photo booths. You try to again reach for his hand but you gripe at the air. You whipped around and saw him barking like a dog at another woman. 

It saddened you. He forced you into these games and he’s acting like it’s your fault for him being here. 

When you first met him, he had a debt of 45 million won. He promised you the world and you fell for his cheap romantics. Soon, the abuse started happening. First, he would come home drunk and yell at you. Then, he would slap you across your face for any little reason and lastly, he would beat you for absolutely no reason at all. 

And supposedly his growing gambling debt is your fault too. 

As time passes you reach a field where a giant doll stands in front of a tree. The doll looked like the schoolgirl doll you had as a child. It was kind of cute. 

“You will be playing red light, green light. Players must go when the doll says ‘green light’ and stop when the doll says ‘red light’. If players are caught moving, you will be eliminated.”

A player runs forward and shouts about how there are guns in the walls and how elimination means death. Something about his mannerism told you, he was telling the truth. 

But of course, most thought he was crazy. 

‘Drunk’, ‘Absolute lunatic’, and ‘Paranoid asshole’ you heard some of the many things the crowd called him. 

456 is his number.

The announcer started the game. 

“Green light.” the doll called.

Everyone played along for a while. Until a girl screamed about a bee on her when it was red light. Then…

A gunshot then a thud.

A woman screamed, and then the piercing sound of screams, running, and gunshots rang out. You were frozen with fear. 

“Get behind someone taller than you! And form lines!”

“Green light.”

You were grabbed and covered by a taller player. You saw the number on his back.

388.

“You okay?” He asked, holding your hand tightly. His hands were warm and strong. It made you want to cry. It had been so, so long since a man treated you this nicely. 

“Y-yeah…” you answered back.

“Just stay behind me. I’ll protect you.” His words carried a strong sense of conviction. You immediately believed him. 

He made you want to stand up and be proud of yourself, but the condescending comments your boyfriend made prevented that. You remain shaking through this game of stop and go.

To calm you down, he asked you questions and answered when you asked them back. 

“What’s your name?”

“It’s [____]. Yours?”

“Dae-ho. Kang Dae-ho.”

___________________________________________

Your boyfriend was by your side when the pink guards organized a vote. Player 456 went in the vote. He voted to leave. 

Your boyfriend subtly gripped your neck. “Vote to stay, baby.” That pet name made you want to vomit and jump off a 500-story building. 

The voting continued until it reached your boyfriend’s turn. He walked and voted to stay. The girl he was flirting with voted to stay after him.

You felt a hand entwined with yours. You remember that warmth. That sweet, comforting warmth. 

“Vote on your own accord.” You stayed silent as Dae-ho advised you to make your own choices. 

Then, it was your turn. You, very reluctantly, let go of Dae-ho’s hand and go to make your vote.

You close your eyes and think quietly. You have about 20 million in debt because you funding your boyfriend’s gambling addiction. So, since the current prize money is at 24 million, you can get yourself out of debt and still have 4 million to keep you going and start the company of your dreams. But, your boyfriend will stomp on plans the first chance he gets. 

‘Vote on your own accord.’

You made your decision and voted.

You voted to leave.

You accepted the X patch and walked over to the X side of the room. You looked over and you saw the absolute rage on your boyfriend’s face. 

You were fucked.

___________________________________________

You were roughly shoved into the wall, the scene shielded by the beds. 

“You fucking bitch. You think you could make a difference by voting to leave.” The bastard of a boyfriend pushes you again into the wall.

“I-i want to leave. Your debt isn’t my debt. I got into debt because of yo-“

He delivered a harsh slap to your face.

“Listen here, you rotten whore.” he wrapped a hand around your neck and pressed against it.

“You’re mine, so don’t get all brave just because you think you’re sneaky about holding hands with another man. He’s only acting nice because he wants you for your worthless body.”

He caught you holding Dae-ho’s hand. 

“From now on, you listen to me. You got that?”

You wanted to shake your head no, you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of total control over you. 

He delivered another swift slap to your face. This time, with more force. 

“Do you got that?”

Before you could respond, The announcements signaled lights out in five minutes.

You settled into your bed without another word to your boyfriend. 

You soon woke up with the urge to pee. Climbing down slowly and making your way to the door. You knocked softly.

“Excuse me. I need to use the restroom.”

“I’m sorry but no access is permitted at this time.” The pink guard voiced.

“I’m really sorry but it’s just that it’s an emergency.”

That familiar warmth touches your shoulder. 

“Y’know, we can’t control it. Human nature, am I right?” Your warmth speaks in your defense.

Eventually, the guards let both you and Dae-ho in the hallways to head up to the bathrooms. You use it quickly and try to head back to the dorms, Dae-ho grabs your wrist.

“I wanna talk for a second.” He gently cradles your wrist. 

“If you need to get away from your-uh friend, you can join my team anytime you want.” He offered with a warm smile.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” You look away from him. With the way he is looking at you right now, you’re ready to drop everything for him.

“Who’s thinking for you right now? You or that piece of shit boyfriend of yours?” Dae-ho’s tone was sharper than intended.

“I saw what he did to you. I watched him stare at you like he wanted to tear you apart.” His grip on your hand tightens.

“I could-“ He’s interrupted by the guard.

“That’s enough. Time to get back to the dorms.”

You and Dae-ho walk back to the dorms in an uncomfortable silence. You wished you could run away to Dae-ho’s arms, but being in this place with your boyfriend lingering around…

It would end well in your favor. 

Dae-ho whispered in your ear. “Just think about it, okay?”

He didn’t wait for a response after reaching the dorms. You watched as he approached player 456 and sat down to stand guard while 456 went to rest. You make your way back to your bunk and try to sleep with a fast-beating heart that pulses at the very mention of Dae-ho.

___________________________________________

“You have 10 minutes to form a group of 5 players.”

You and your boyfriend search for a team, he scoffed as he saw most people have formed a team.

He spots a team of three and approaches them. “Yo, need two for a team?” He asked.

“Nah, just one. One of our guys went looking for a guy but looks like we have our fifth man right here.” Your boyfriend smiles and turns to you. 

“Sorry, babe. Looks like you need to get lost.”

“Huh? You’re leaving me? W-why?” You grew angry. This fucker has the audacity to drag you to the middle of nowhere and then leave you like you’re the burden.

You don’t even want to hear his reasoning. Your boyfriend, no, your EX boyfriend means nothing to you anymore.

You walk from group to group, asking if they need one more person. Their responses were ‘Sorry, we already have five.’ or ‘You’re not capable enough.’

You’re running out of time. You’ll get eliminated if you don’t find a team. 

Every rejection causes tears in your eyes. You accidentally bump into someone, looking up and your eyes lock with Dae-ho’s. 

“Dae-ho…” You nearly broke down in tears.

“Hey, hey now. It’s okay. Relax.” He hugs you tightly. He gives the warmth and comfort that you thought you would never have again. 

“Is that offer still up?” You bury your face into his warm, strong chest.

“Of course, it still is.” He rubbed the top of your head, consoling you. 

Dae-ho takes you back to his group and introduces you to the others.

456, 001, and 390. All men that are quite older than you are. Dae-ho had to be your age or older. You felt safe. Dae-ho’s hand at the small of your back is a constant reminder of his vow to protect you.

He vowed to protect you since the moment he saw your ex put his hands on you after the vote. Dae-ho swore to treat you better, better than he can.

After note: WOOHOO I HOPE YOU LIKED IT!! Please feel free to request anything ranging from fluff, smut, or angst!! I’m thinking about a part two but I’m not too sure. What are you guys think?

dae ho taglist: @come-as-you-are-111

[nightxcreature]

Do You Wanna Touch Me?

18+ ONLY

Summary: Part Two to Hotblooded, Reader can't help herself. She needs Dean anyway she can get him.

Warnings: Smut, Masturbation, Spice, Dirty Talk

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader

A/N: wow. I did not expect that last one to get so much love and attention! Thank you all for being so kind! This is only my second ? time writing smut, so I hope it meets your expectations. I may keep this one going for at least one more part if you guys are interested. :) As always, comments, reblogs, and likes are always appreciated!

do not copy and share my work anywhere, you don't have permission.

I had been trying to fall asleep for hours now, and yet here I lay, half naked and clinging to a pillow for dear life. The ingredients in my drink from earlier were still running their course through my system and had left me panting at the mere thought of Dean. I’d rid myself of my T-shirt before Sam had even left my room, heat emanating from my body at a rapid pace. Sam had awkwardly averted his gaze before locking me in and reminding me that I should feel better after I rest. And yet even hours later, I feel like I’ll die if I don’t see Dean soon, speak to him, touch him…

                I groan as I shift to snag my phone from the nightstand, my hips rolling deliciously against the pillow below me. Feral thoughts of the hunter a few doors down rack my brain and I quickly pull up his contact before pressing the call button. His ringtone echoes down the hall from where I assume he is in the library before he answers.

                “Hey, Darlin’,” His voice alone causes my heart to race, a gasp leaving my lips, “Are you okay?”

                I shuffle to straddle the pillow below me as he speaks, the worry for me in his voice sending me into a frenzy, “No. I need you.” I practically cry into the speaker, “Need you so bad.”

                He sighs deeply and I can hear papers shuffling in the background, “You should be asleep, Sweetheart.”

                “Can’t sleep.” I mumble, rolling my hips against the pillow as he speaks, “Can only think about you. I don’t think I’ll think of anything else ever again.”

                “I’m trying to find something to help make it easier for you, I’m sorry.” He whispers, papers shuffling again, “I promise, it’s got to wear off eventually.”

                I let out a frustrated sound, my bottom lip jutting out as I whine, “I’m going to die in here! I’m going to die from needing you so bad and you wont even come in here to help me.”

                “I can’t come help you, Baby. It’s not you that’s asking for this.” He whispers and I can hear the frustration in his voice. One part of me is yelling for me to shut up, to hang up the phone and go to bed, try to somehow go to sleep and forget this ever happened…but the other part of me is ravenous, feral for the man on the other end of the line, and she is not going to lose this battle without a fight.

                “It’s your job to help people, Dean.” I cry out, a low blow I know, but the desperation coursing through my veins won’t let up, “Are you really going to leave me here like this?”

                “Don’t do that.” He growls out, “I told you before that we could talk about this when you’re not drunk off some god-level fuck juice. I want to talk about this. I do want to help you, but I won’t go in that room.”

                His take-no-shit tone goes straight to my core, which I know is the exact opposite of what he’s looking for, but I can’t stop imagining the firm look on his face as he scolds me. My hips roll quicker, a ravenous feeling overtaking my thoughts, “Please keep talking.” I whisper as my eyes close. I hear his breathing hitch, but he doesn’t speak for a moment, and I bite my lip nervously. Did I make him upset? I don’t think I can live with myself if he’s upset with me, “I’m sorry, I didn’t-.”

                “Don’t apologize.” He cuts me off quickly, “What are you doing?”

                Embarrassment should flood my system, but the idea of being caught getting off to his voice just spurs me on. I lift off the pillow to roll my shorts down my legs and then position myself over it again, “What do you think I’m doing?” I whisper seductively into the speaker. Hoping, practically praying, that he knows and he’ll throw whatever righteousness he has left out the window to come help me reach my goal. Sweat pours down my forehead and a heaviness sits in my hips, I rut against the pillow again to try and alleviate the feeling, a small moan leaving my lips as I do.

                The rough sound of his chair sliding across the library floor and his heavy boots thudding as he walks stills me. I sit with bated breath listening to the sound through the phone, waiting to hear him outside my door, “Where are you going?”

                I hear him chuckle quietly before his voice finally graces my ear again, “Where do you think I’m going?” I hear his boots come to a stop, but no sound comes from the hallway in front of my room.

                I groan in frustration, rutting against the pillow isn’t bringing the amount of relief that my body needs and the thought of Dean not being here to help me brings a sinking feeling in my stomach, “Where are you?”

                A door clicks closed on his end before he speaks, “What are you wearing?” He whispers gruffly, sending a shock to my core. I stay quiet for a moment before he whispers a bit softer, “You told me to keep talking. I won’t come in that room with you, but I am going to help you. Now, what are you wearing?”

                Though he can’t see me, I nod quickly and glance down to my torso. Thankful for the black lace panty set cladding my body so I don’t have to lie…I don’t think I could lie to him right now, “My underwear.” I whisper, holding my breath while I wait for him to speak again, “It’s black and lacy and I think you’d really like it.”

                He groans quietly and I can hear him lay down on what I assume is his own bed, “I’d like to see that.”

                “Come here and you can.” My breathing is heavy, anticipation building throughout me as I beg him, “Please.”

                “Please? You gonna beg me, Sweetheart?” He whispers lowly, the teasing tone spurs me on and I roll my hips against the pillow again, moaning louder as I do. I hear him suck in a breath before he continues, “Tell me what you want me to do to you.”

“Touch me. Please, touch me.” I cry out, “I need you all over me.”

                He chuckles darkly, “I can’t right now, can I? But, you can.”

 At his words my hips stutter, I glance down at the pillow as I slide back toward my headboard, “You want me to…”

“Touch yourself, Baby. Where do you want my hands?” His voice is low as he instructs me and I dust the hand not holding my phone across my chest as I listen to his breathing, “Where do you want me to touch you?”

 “Everywhere. My chest, my legs, my….” I gasp as my fingertips rub over my clothed nipples; eyes still closed, I imagine his fingers being the ones ghosting across my frame.

I can practically hear the smile on his face when he speaks again, his voice quiet and heavy, “Yeah, I wanna touch you there, too. I can’t stop thinking about the things I want to do to you.”

“What else do you want to do to me?” I whisper, my hands making their way down my body at a slow pace. I play with the hem of my panties, imagining it’s his thick fingers there teasing me as he speaks slowly into my ear.

“I wanna spend all day between your legs, Baby. Wanna fuck you so good, you forget your name.” He whispers huskily, his breathing is heavier and I almost cum at the thought that he must be touching himself, too. I slide my hand into my panties and moan breathlessly at the feeling of relief that rushes my system. I circle my fingers around my opening, brushing my fingertips over the bud at the apex every so often

                “You drive me crazy,” I groan, throwing my head back against the headboard as I picture his face between my thighs and all the filthy noises he would be making while he eats me, “I need more. You make me so wet.”

                He curses into the speaker and I can hear his breathing quicken, “Take off your clothes.” The harshness in his voice causes my eyes to snap open and rushes me to strip bare faster than I ever have. I remain quiet as I lay alone, listening to his rapid breathing on the other end of the line, “You want me to fuck you, Baby?”

                I nod dumbly before realizing that he still can’t see me and quickly recover, “Yes.”

                “I want you on your hands and knees. Arch your back and touch yourself.” I nod again, rolling quickly to my hands and knees to do as he asks, “I can’t see you, Sweetheart. Are you listening to me?”

                “Yes, Sir.” I mumble as I rush to put the phone on speaker and roll my hips against my fingers, “I’m listening.”

                “Good girl.” He replies, chuckling as I moan at the name, “You like that?”

                “Yes. I love that.” I pant, rubbing faster against the bundle nerves between my thighs. My eyes roll back at the feeling and I try my best to focus on Dean’s voice as he continues to talk me through this.

                “All those little sounds your making are getting me so hard, Darlin’. I can’t stop thinking about how good you must feel, about how good I’d make you feel.” His husky whispers sends my imagination into overdrive as I raise up to sit on my heels. A single finger sinks into me and I moan out at the relief, “I’ve been thinking about being inside you all day. Whatever you want me to do to you, I’d do it. I want to be so deep inside you.”

                My eyes roll at his words, my breathing becoming heavier and I barely hear him when he asks, “You close, Sweetheart? Want me to make you cum?” The teasing lilt in his voice urging my hands to move quicker, my fingers rushing in and out of my opening like lightening. My toes curl and my vision goes blurry as the orgasm crashes into me suddenly. His name leaves my lips like a prayer as I come down and I hear him grunt, whispering my name quietly against the phone speaker.

                My breathing is heavy when I finally speak, “Thank you.”

                He chuckles awkwardly and I can imagine the way a blush covers his cheeks when he replies, “No need to thank me, Darlin’. I think I got just as much out of this as you did.”

                I laugh a little in response, feeling the hint of a blush rising in my own cheeks. The relief I feel is insurmountable and I can feel exhaustion taking over my body in exchange for the rabid horniness from earlier. “Do you think this is over? The potion, I mean.” I ask, waiting for the intense feeling of want to return.

                “Guess we’ll have to wait and see.” He mumbles, “If you need me again though, just call.”

                “Will do.” I reply, “We do have a lot to talk about when I’m feeling better though…”

                He laughs nervously before trying to hide it as a cough before agreeing, “Yeah, uh, we do.”

                “I’ll see you after my nap, Dean.” I answer with a slight smile, “And then we can see just how quickly I forget my name.”

                He snorts and I can hear the smirk in his voice, “Set a timer, Sweetheart, it won’t take long.”

______________________________________________________________

Taglist: @lmhf1 @whimsyfinny @enigmalynne @envysarchive @aylacavebear @suckitands33 @oceean @mxtansy @k-slla

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[superblysubpar]

modern!husband!steve harrington x wife!you

2,603 words

warnings: so like, technically, you don't have to read "We'll Call It Love" , my modern steve series, BUT you're missing soooooo much that got these two idiots here, so I really encourage you to do so. This scene is so so so much more fun if you know all that led up to it, I promise. anyways: | alcohol mentions, slight descriptions of use by reader | smut (public - you get caught *kind of* / fingering / piv unprotected intercourse - creampie / wife,mom,breeding, all the kinks from one Mr. Harrington) - 18+ as always

a blurb for the "Trick or Treat, Freak?" event - don't forget to vote for tomorrow at the bottom of the fic!

A/N: I just wanted to say again, thanks for loving We'll Call It Love so much. I actually got to go see the band COIN last night, the music that inspired the fic, the screenplay, and just...wow. I don't have other words for it. Idk, feeling very sappy for all of you today and this story that means so much to me. Thanks for being here, it was fun to revisit these two 💛 and *now* I'm done with them.

Probably.

The day hadn’t been without its issues, but he’d expect nothing less, when it comes to the two of you.

First, there was Eddie’s girlfriend showing up in fake blood, late, covered in swatches of dark and gory fake gashes and goo all down her arms as she frantically rushed past him and shouted something about busy season and don’t worry, his bride was gonna look beautiful and not in a tragically haunting poetic way but in a romantic sunset kissed glowing kind of way.

Which, you did.

But then, there was an issue with the cake, which, wasn’t supposed to be a cake, but a bunch of peach pies. Robin and Nancy were whispering loud enough to bring him into the kitchen, both of their mouths snapped shut as Steve blinked at the largest solitary pie he’d ever seen. It was massive, comically so, and Robin was waving her hands at him, it’s going be fine spilling out of her lips that had just been freshly glossed for photos. Nancy was on the phone with a bakery and then Eddie was stumbling through the door shouting about canceling the order. He smiled at Steve and told him that you started crying which made him frown and start towards the direction Eddie had just come from, but his groomsman and your best man stopped him, assured him that then you started laughing, that you said your parents would have loved it.

Which, ultimately led to issue number three.

Robin had approached him slowly, fixing his tie, before she whispered that they couldn’t find you, but that there was a note, with his name on it. He had grabbed it with trembling fingers, only to find it didn’t say anything like sorry or I can’t do this, but a quote:

“I’ll have what she’s having.”

He rushed past Robin, shouted about being right back.

Steve found you on a balcony, which took a little bit of work, asking the front desk if anyone booked a room under Buttercup, or Allie, Kate, and ultimately Sally Albright. Then they wouldn’t give him the room number till he confirmed his name was Harry Albright, not Harry Burns. His breath caught in his chest when you turned to look at him, chin quivering and a quiet greeting for him before you started crying. It all ended alright, after you talked about your parents and him and all of it and he kissed you and made a joke about wedding curses. If seeing you in your dress before the ceremony already happened, where was the harm in a sunset balcony quickie?

You didn’t go for it that time, only grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the room with you, asking if he was ready to get married.

Which he really fucking was.

The floor to ceiling windows overlooking the skyline had been good in theory, letting in the beautiful, breathtaking sunset as you said your vows. But they also let in the warmth, the room an oven, leading you to laughing during the ceremony and swiping at his temple with your handkerchief and Eddie fanning Robin while she officiated. And cried.

There was so much crying.

But it was perfect.

You were perfect.

“Sir?”

Steve blinked away from where he was watching you take pictures in the vintage photobooth, you, Robin, Nancy, and Eddie’s girlfriend were all crammed in, sitting on each other’s laps, to the attendant in front of him.

Perfect, but distracting.

“So sorry, what did you ask?”

The venue employee smiled, like he knew the look on Steve’s face well, and then he shook his head. “Nothing to apologize for, sir. I was just letting you know that all the gifts are put away and locked in the car downstairs as instructed by your wife. Anything else I can do for you?”

His wife.

Steve looked over at you again, sighing as you tilted your head back in a laugh at the images in Robin’s hand.

He smiled at the man in front of him and shook his hand, “No, thank you.”

You felt him before you saw him, or rather, smelt him.

Your body spun to find the source of the salty and fried scent to see Steve holding a container of fresh french fries and a smile and eyes that seemed to be perfectly made, and only for you.

“Hey Mrs. Harrington,” he kissed your cheek, lips lingered against your skin as he asked, “Hungry?”

“Starving,” you groaned, your body crumpled against his as you exchanged your glass of champagne for the fries you knew would end up being a great late night snack offered. Warmth filled your stomach at the sound of your new last name, like a lovesick idiot you swore you’d never be.

Steve lifted a fry to your mouth, eyes a deep burnt amber in the low reception lighting as he watched your lips part and steal the fry from between his fingers, his tongue with a mind of it’s own, swiping out over his bottom lip as yours brushed the pad of his thumb.

You snorted.

“You’re so easy, Harrington.”

Steve lifted the fries away from you, eyes glinting as you pouted and reached for them half-heartedly, content to just lean against his body instead as he joked, “Hey. We’re married. You have to be nice to me now.”

Warm breath hit his jaw as you huffed, “Well, if I knew that was the rule, I never would have said I do a few hours ago.”

A kiss was pressed to his neck despite your words, right against his two freckles, then a smile ghosted against his skin when you heard the low rumble in his chest.

Steve’s lips brushed your ear as he bent down, speaking softly, lowly, and sending the warmth between your stomach directly between your legs.

“Don’t start something you can’t handle, honey.”

Your head lifted, stares at one another challenging and hopelessly and sickeningly in love to anyone who was watching.

“Oh,” you laughed, quietly, leaned in to whisper against his lips, “I think I can handle you just fine, Mr. Harrington.”

He had you in the bathroom not even a minute later, one hand locking the door behind him and the other pressing over your mouth as you giggled.

Steve’s mouth was all over your neck as his hands found your hips, guiding you to the counter.

“You’re so beautiful,” words warm and sticky and sweet against your skin as your head fell back against his shoulder in a gasp when his lips found a new spot behind your ear. “Can’t believe I’m married to you. Can’t believe you said yes. Can’t believe you’re all-“

His hand smacked at your ass as he grabbed a fistful of it, scrunching up the fabric of your dress you could care less about now as he growled in your ear the word, “Mine.”

“Steve,” you hated how breathless you sounded, hated how he’d barely touched or kissed you and you were wrecked already, “Hurry.”

He whined into the crook of your neck, spun you and let his nose trace along the straps of your dress, across the lace covering your chest as his mouth followed, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

Steve knelt, regretfully removing his lips from your skin so he could carefully lift your dress, handing it to you with a quiet, “Hold this, honey.”

He pressed a kiss to your check as you did what you were told, but then he got a proper look at you and your lip was captured between your teeth at his groan, from the way his hands ran through his hair.

“Fuck,” he sighed, as his finger trailed up your thigh and found custom, cream colored straps and shiny buckles and pretty lace you’d ordered just for him. “Look at you.”

“You like it?” The question answered by Steve’s own lip bitten raw, his fingers still roaming higher, up the sides of your cunt, already soaked.

“Baby,” Steve laughed, eyes cast down between your bodies, watching carefully as his fingers slipped beneath the wet lace. “Do I like it? I love it.”

“That’s,” your head fell back, exposing your neck his mouth was grateful for. Distracted by the way he dragged his fingers through you, swirled around your clit, the same way his tongue was against your throat. “Go-good.”

Steve pressed against your clit harder, humming against your skin where his mouth was still latched to when your body shook underneath him. Your thighs clamped around his hand, yours clutched at his shoulders with fistfuls of your dress still between your fingers.

He removed his fingers from you, quick to make work of his buckle and pants, aligning himself with you but hesitating just as his tip brushed against your entrance.

Steve looked up at you, under his lashes that cast shadows against pink cheeks dotted with freckles. He gazed at you with the kind of look that you imagined you gave a sunset. Admiring, awed, like you were taking in its beauty the first time every time. Like you knew your time with it might be fleeting, so you had to watch it every second so you didn't miss a single second of it.

He leaned in and let his lips brush over yours tenderly, deciding to take his time and forget the frantic pace you both had started with.

He murmured into your lips as they parted in a sigh beneath his kiss.

“I love you. So much. I think I’ve loved you since I saw you in that bar, I texted Robin about soul mates before I talked to you, I-“

You caught his top lip between yours, an over too quick kiss, but then you were speaking into the corner of his mouth, against his jaw.

“I love you too.”

Steve’s forehead knocked yours, your hips wiggled, making his dick twitch as you stared into each other’s eyes.

“Ready, Mrs. Harrington?”

The tip of your nose brushed his as your laugh bubbled out of you, voice all sarcastic and fond, “Ready? I’ve been ready, Steve. You’re the one taking his tim-ohmygod.”

Steve’s smug smirk twitched in front of you as he thrust into you while fake grumbling, “Me? How about you miss I’m gonna wait over a year to say I love-fuckyoufeelsogood…”

He rolled his hips, only getting deeper, and your thighs tightened on the outside of his, head thrown back against the mirror from the feeling of him inside you, which he followed. His lips skated over your cheek, your jaw, as he slowly pulled out of you and thrust back in.

Your mouth fell open with each drag against your walls that cling to him, that want him to stay there. A noise catches in the back of your throat every time he pushes into you, each time only harder and deeper as he babbled.

“Sorry, I wanted,” he grunted, mouth finding yours only to kiss you once and keep talking, “The first time I have sex with my wife to last, to linger, to-“

Your mouth captured his in a kiss this time, tugging on his bottom lip and gasping into his open mouth when he thrust faster, shallower, your name a begged breath between the two of you.

“Sorry, I didn’t want to wait anymore,” you whimpered, your dress left your fingers so you could grip the back of his head, card your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck and tug, “To finally have sex with my husband.”

Steve moaned at the word husband, twitching inside of you, which made you grin at the way his hips stuttered, at the way his bottom lip pulled between his teeth.

“Yeah?” You gripped at the back of his head a little harder, knowing what each other liked now. He frantically pushed under the fallen dress to find your clit again with ease, trying to get the upper hand once more as you asked, “You like me calling you my husband, Steve?”

Your mouth brushed the apple of his cheek, it kissed his temple as he fell forward, thrusting faster and making quick figure eights against your nerves, gasping at your teasing.

“Wanna tell everyone I’m your wife? Tell ‘em I’m a Harrington?” Your stomach clenched at the thought too, at the pace which Steve slammed into you even harder, hips meeting in a filthy grind as your head knocked against the mirror. The thumps mingling with the sound of how you were coating him, all a little louder in the bathroom and only making you both a little more turned on.

His forehead pressed to yours as he nodded, lips of parted mouths catching every time he thrust. He moaned, he begged, “Yeah, yeah. Wanna tell them. Wanna…want…pregnant. Mine.”

Your back arched, hand searching until it found his, lacing your fingers together. His others grew sloppy against your clit, slipping over it as you nodded. Chest aching from his admission, from the way you sort of wanted it too, how it didn’t scare you as much anymore, not when it was him.

“Yeah?”

“Ye-yeah, fuck, honey, I can’t-“ Steve kissed you. Passionate and breath stealing as he held your lips to his like he’d wanted to all day. Your clasped hands hit the counter, the click of your rings together made you whine into his lips when they parted. You let him go, his name loud in the bathroom, echoing against tile and sure to be heard even on the moon as his hips stuttered when you clenched around him. Your stomach burned and your eyes blinked rapidly, sure you weren’t on the planet anymore from the amount of stars you could see as his warmth spilled into you.

It takes a second for you both to come back down to earth, for Steve to laugh, for you to press your hands to your cheeks as you looked down at the mess you’d made of yourselves.

Steve kissed at sweat kissed skin, tenderly cleaning you up as you joked with each other, sleepy eyelids and content smiles. Slow kisses that left you both sighing in between lingering touches that weren’t out of necessity, but just because you wanted to be touching.

Completely in love.

He helped you off of the counter and winced at the way your dress fell down all crinkled and obviously mussed. You shrugged before running a hand though his hair, messing it up even more than you already had, then you untied his tie and let it hang from around his neck saying something about it only being fair.

He grabbed your hand, fingers curled into yours as he kissed your knuckles and led you out of the bathroom.

Robin was the first to slow clap.

Your nose pressed to his shoulder, a groaned god dammit on your lips against his suit jacket.

Then Rocketman was blasted on the speakers, a loud “Annnnnnnd Buckley owes me one hundred dollars!” comes from Eddie at the bar, earning a smack to his chest from his girlfriend, which was nice, until she said “I get fifty of that and you know it.”

And it’s all fine, Steve doesn’t really care, because most of the guests are gone and you’re laughing and heading over to grab pie, flicking Eddie’s ear as you went.

Robin slid up next to Steve, shaking her head. “Wow. I really had faith in you Harrington. A bathroom? On your wedding night? I know you two are animals, but you couldn’t wait to have your wife in, oh, I don’t know, a private bedroom?”

Steve only smiled at the way Nancy handed you a water as you caught peach filling from your lip, while you played with the little ‘S’ dangling between your collarbones with your left hand, the large blue sapphire stone sparkling next to glittering diamonds in the light.

His wife.

For those of you who don't know, Leather and Lace was an Eddie series I started when I first started writing for the fandom. I only posted two chapters, and I just fell out of writing it. It was something I was holding close to me, and I wanted to really tell it right. I've been poking at it a lot lately, and the story has changed so much, and I'd love to share it again soon. But for now, have a little blurb from it tomorrow, and I'd really love to hear what you think. This Eddie is a childhood best friend, an enemy, a stranger, and hopefully, one day, a lover. Okay, anyways, happy voting!

*voting will close at 10am CST tomorrow, 10/3

[nvtstvrns]

Scared? - Matt Sturniolo

soft!matt, soft!reader fluff, Halloween night

Summary: y/n and Matt decide to stay home for Halloween and they watch horror movies together. Y/n gets a little scared during one of the movies so Matt comforts her.

Contains: fluff, cuddling, some dirty talk (not a lot), horror movies, mentions of killing, Halloween

message from me: I miss writing fluff guys holy shit this is fun

Divider credits @bernardsbendystraws

I was waiting for the popcorn in the microwave when Matt walks out of his room, he was finding the movie Scream for me to watch because it’s my favorite horror movie. He wraps his arms around my stomach from behind as his head rests on my shoulder.

“Hey, did you find it?” I ask referring to the movie. He hums behind me.

“With the way you’re lookin right now I don’t think I want to watch the tv…” he says kissing my neck and trailing his hands up my shirt. I shrug away from him and I take the popcorn out of the microwave dumping it in the bowl.

“Well…it’s my favorite movie so I think I’ll be able to watch it.” I say turning back around to be met with him right in my face.

He scoffs and puts his hand into his pockets and he licks his lips. “You only like scream cause you think Ghostface is hot.” He says opening the fridge and getting out a root beer for himself and a Dr. Pepper for me.

“He is! But he has to have the mask on.” I say picking up the popcorn bucket and walking towards his room.

“You’re deranged.” He says following me.

I lay in his chest as we’re about done with the movie, Billy and Stu reveal themselves and I grin burying my head in his chest.

“Seriously? What do I have to do to get that kind of reaction from you?” He asks rolling his eyes.

“Get a ghostface mask.” I say grinning as I play with his hair.

While laying on his chest I breathe deeply trying to match my breathing with his. He holds me tightly rubbing my back with his hand. I yawn when the movie ends and I try to get up but he holds me closer to him.

“You’re so warm…don’t go.” He says holding me tighter. I groan trying to lift myself up.

“I’m just gonna go make more popcorn, you find another movie, I’ll be right back I promise.” I say kissing him softly. I walk out of his room my fuzzy socks brushing against the floor. Chris and Nick were watching their own movie in the living room.

“Have you been able to keep your hands of each other for once? You don’t look like he tore your insides apart yet.” Chris says pausing his movie to look at me.

“Chris, shut the fuck up you’re so weird.” I say running a hand through my hair as my face turns red in embarrassment. “We can keep our hands off each other…” I say as I put the popcorn in the microwave.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard of you two making it through a whole movie without touch—”

“Okay Chris stop.” Nick says freeing me from his comments. I go back to Matt’s room and he has smile pulled up.

“Hell no Matt. I’m not watching smile.” I say sitting next to him in the bed.

“Come on, I wanna see it.” He says hitting play and wrapping an arm around me. I groan and settle into his side. “I’m gonna kill you if I get scared.” I mumble.

Near the middle of the movie I jump and Matt holds me tighter. “Come on sweetheart it’s fake, look.” He says pushing my head towards the TV. It was not a good time because the smile demon was in the corner of the room. I whimper and try to get closer to him if that was even possible.

I made it through a good amount of the movie without being scared but when it came to the end I jumped and screamed at every little thing, at some point I started crying and he paused the movie.

“I don’t like movies about demons Matt…I never have.” I say sobbing into his shoulder. He mumbled a curse word and holds me tighter.

“Y/n I swear I didn’t think you’d get this scared I’m sorry…” he says rubbing my back. He shushes me and tells me to breathe. After a while I’m fully calmed down and he hits play on the movie again.

“Remember baby, it’s all fake, it’s not gonna hurt you I swear.” He says moving his attention back to the tv. “I’m right here and I’m not going anywhere.”

When the movie was over I climb off of him and wipe my eyes. “We should watch a cartoon.” He laughs and changes the show. A random cartoon playing.

“That good?” He asks. I nod and I end up falling asleep next to him.

Thanks for reading. I fucking love horror movies but the only movie that has ever scared me was Smile fuck that movie bro 😭

[st4rfckerz]

Heist | Dark!James Kelly x Reader

word count: 1.9k

warnings: dubcon (leaning more into noncon), unprotected sex, gunplay, degrading, choking, basically porn without a plot, dddne

summary: James couldn’t stay in the van, so he decides to enter the bank himself.

The minutes sitting in the humming van stretched into an agonizing eternity and James couldn't take the suspense any longer. He unclenched his fingers from the steering wheel and stepped out of the van. His heart hammered against his rib cage as he crossed the street, the sidewalk cold beneath his shoes. He approached the bank, the scent of adrenaline and metal heavy in the air. Without waiting for any kind of signal, James pushed open the bank's heavy door, his black-clad figure silhouetted against the bright interior.

The sound of shattering glass and panicked screams assaulted James’s ears as he entered the bank. He quickly scanned the area for any sign of his brother or the others, his cold eyes darting over the panic-stricken patrons. In the corner, he spotted you as you reached for the phone, your fingers poised to dial. He stalked towards you, his strong hands gripping your arm and throat forcefully, stopping you from making a call. He pushed you up against the wall, your back painfully aching as he held you in place, his body pressed against yours.

“Don’t do that,” he growled, his voice low and muffled from the snug mask covering his face. Your eyes widened in terror, tears welling in them as you struggled against him. He tightened his grip on your throat, his touch unyielding. “Stop.” he commanded, and shook your body roughly, his black-clad arm creating a stinging impact as your head collided with the hard wall. The impact sent shooting pain through your body, and you cried out loudly.

James’s steely eyes widened as the distant wail of sirens filled the air. Realizing the urgency of the situation, he yanked you toward the back of the bank, his strong hands steady as they dragged you into a small storage room. He slammed the door shut, the sound echoing through the otherwise quiet space as if to mock the chaos unfolding outside.

He leaned against the door, his breathing heavy, as he tried to process the situation. It seemed their escape plan had been compromised. The sliver of hope that his brother, or the others might still be able to salvage something from the mess dwindled rapidly.

James, his nerves frayed and desperation mounting, stepped closer to your shivering body until he was nearly touching you. The tree tattoo on his arm seemed to pulse, as he bared his teeth in a sneer. “Stay quiet or I swear I’ll blow your brains out right here.” he growled, his voice cold and menacing. Overwhelmed by the situation, you couldn't help the gentle sniffling that escaped your lips. You tried your best to stifle your sobs, but the fear and adrenaline coursing through your veins made it nearly impossible. “Why are you still crying?” he demanded. “This is fucking ridiculous.” He roughly removes the black mask from his face, feeling as though it is strangling him completely.

James took a deep breath, trying to regain some semblance of control. “If you do as I say,” he said, his voice dropping to a threatening whisper, “I won't hurt you.” The desperation in his tone was palpable, a stark contrast to his usual cold demeanor. He needed your cooperation now more than ever, and he had no qualms about using his intimidating presence to coerce it.

Unmoved by his hollow promise, your eyes flashed with defiance. “Fuck you,” you spat out, the words like nails on a chalkboard. With a force that left you winded, he shoved you onto the cold, hard floor, and you landed in a crumpled heap.

“I don’t think you understand what I’m capable of, little girl.” he warned, his voice laced with menace as he climbed on top of you, pinning you to the ground. His tree tattoo loomed ominously over your skin. The weight of his body on yours was suffocating, both literally and figuratively, as the seconds ticked by with deafening silence. He needed you quiet, and he wouldn't hesitate to use whatever means necessary to get it.

“You get off to shit like this, don't you?” you taunted, trying to provoke him. Your voice shook slightly, but the defiance still lingered. The audacity of your words seemed to catch James off guard for a moment, his grip on your arm loosening just enough for you to catch a breath. James's face flushed with anger, his nostrils flaring. Hishand, encircling your throat, squeezed tight, silencing your words with brute force.

“Wouldn't you like to know?” he whispered menacingly, his hand a vice around your neck as he leaned in, his hot breath fanning your face. His gaze bore into yours, a molten pool of fury and uncertainty. A sudden, unexpected wave of arousal washed over you, your body betraying your fear and instincts. It was a shiver of lust in the face of danger, a twisted response you couldn't control. The unyielding grip around your throat, the weight of his body pinning you down, the power he wielded over you - it all combined to wreak havoc on your senses.

James slowly brought the cool metal of the gun down, grazing between your skirt and along your goosebump covered thighs. The gun continued its path, pressing firmly against your clothed cunt, the soft texture of your underwear the only thing separating you from the weapon. The sensation sends a jolt through you, a sharp gasp quickly escapes your lips. He watched you closely, his eyes hungry for any signs of pleasure, any shred of hope that he had you at his mercy.

“You like that, don’t you?” His tone was taunting and low. You release a shaky breath, your chest rising and falling unevenly. The line between fear and arousal had blurred, leaving you confused. Sensing the effect his actions had, James brought the gun slowly up your body, the cold metal sliding over your skin like a snake coiling around its prey. With a cruel smile, he guided the cold metal muzzle to your lips, pushing it between them until it rested against your tongue. James couldn't deny the arousal coursing through him as he watched your lips wrapped around the barrel of his gun. The power he held over you, the submission he forced, was intoxicating

“I don’t wanna hear a thing.” James demands coldly, his gaze holding you in a vice-like grip. Feeling overwhelmed by the situation, you could only manage a faint nod. Regardless of the unwelcome stirrings within you, the realization that your life was in his hands was too potent to ignore. James finally withdrew the gun from your mouth, the cold absence leaving your lips tingling. He then roughly pulled the bottom of your skirt upward and yanked off your panties with one swift motion. Your skirt was left intact, but the sudden, brutal exposure left you feeling raw and vulnerable.

James pulled down his own pants and underwear, stopping just below his balls, leaving himself partially exposed. He paused for a moment, his gaze lingering on your exposed form. The intensity of the situation, combined with his arousal, drove him to take you right there in the small, cramped storage room. Without warning, he thrust into your cunt forcefully, bottoming out with a grunt.

The forceful entry was more than you expected, causing you to let out a yelp despite your best efforts to remain silent. Your body jerked with surprise, your nails digging into the cold floor as you tried to brace yourself. James’s grip on your waist tightened, pulling you closer with each thrust, his own arousal only escalating with your involuntary reaction.

As James continued his brutal assault, he noticed the increased evidence of your arousal, the slickness that coated him with each thrust. He smirked, his voice laced with contempt, “Just can't help yourself, can you?” The way your body responded against your will, and the yelp you let out, only served to fuel James's savagery. He saw it as a twisted victory, a mockery of your defiance earlier.

“Is this what you like? Is this really what gets you goin’?” Your face turned a deep shade of red, shame and humiliation washing over you. “Getting fucked on the ground like a dirty fuckin’ whore?”

“S-stop,” you pleaded through broken whimpers. James showed no sign of relenting. If anything, he increased his speed, his need for control driving him forward, even at the expense of your obvious humility. James's newfound frustration at your pleas found release in the form of a slap across your face that sent your head whipping to the side. He grabbed your cheeks harshly, forcing you to look at him.

“Didn’t I tell you to shut the fuck up?" he snarled. As James continued to ram into your aching cunt without mercy, he leaned back a little, one hand still gripping your hip for control. “Keep. Quiet.” With his free hand, he pointed his gun at your face, the cold steel a stark reminder of the precarious situation they were both in. The room was a cacophony of moans, grunts, and the wet sounds of their bodies working against each other.

“Can I please, I need-” you whined, reaching up to claw at his clothed thighs. You feel the cold tip of the gun barrel pressed against your forehead, your eyes shooting open in surprise.

“Go on ‘nd cum, I know you want to.” he sneers, cocking his head to the side cheekily. Your sudden orgasm crashed over your senses, your body convulsing as you came, the sensation both welcome and repulsive. As your sore body continued to quiver from your release, James followed close behind, his grip on your waist tightening as he groaned, spilling himself inside your leaking cunt.

The mingling of pain and euphoria left you gasping, your body trembling in the aftermath. He watched you with a predatory glint in his eyes, a twisted sense of satisfaction playing across his features as he pulled up his pants and buckled his belt. "Now that wasn't so bad, was it?" he asked, his voice dripping with malice. James pulled up his pants and underwear, readying himself to leave the storage room. There was an air of finality to his movements, as if he were severing ties with the events that had unfolded.

Before James could fully exit the room, the sound of heavy banging on the door erupted. The police, having secured the rest of the bank, had finally found your hiding place. In a matter of moments, they broke down the door, their weapons drawn. You watched in dread as the officers flooded the room, their weapons drawn and focused on James, who stood frozen, unable to process the swift turn of events. The moment of his freedom had vanished, replaced by the unforgiving glare of the law. One of the officers grabbed him in a swift motion, slapping the cuffs on him. The other police officers secured the room, ensuring that any potential escape was impossible.

As James was being led away, his gaze met yours, and he offered you a wink followed by a coy smirk. The defiant expression on his face was the last thing you saw as he was taken out of the bank, his freedom and plan now nothing but ashes.

Now you were left alone in the room, the only witness to the perverted activities that unfolded, as the world outside began to piece together the aftermath of the heist and the brutal actions that took place in that small storage room. The police will soon question you, no doubt, seeking answers to the horrific events that had transpired.

The storied storage room would fade into the background, a mere footnote in the grand narrative of the botched robbery.

[buckyalpine]

Ex!Bucky fluff

I’m about to break hearts rn but I’ll mend it with a mini life saver. I promise. I was in a silly goofy mood for angst but I can't just leave the ending like that.

Bucky squeezed his eyes shut, trying to regulate his breathing while practicing the grounding methods you had taught him, your soft voice guiding him through his panic attack.

"Tell me what you see around you"

"I-I see the curtains, the coffee table, the bookshelf- uh- the couch" You nodded, encouraging him to continue while his glassy eyes flicked around the living room. He looked at all the things you had hand picked for the space when you moved in together; the empty box he used as a shelter finally became a home after he met you.

"How about something you can smell"

"I-I can smell the laundry detergent on the blanket" It was Bucky's favorite scent because it smelled like lavender and lavender smelled like home. Home was you.

"What else my love" You cooed, "What can you touch"

"The pillow- it feels soft" Bucky's fingers dug into the sofa as he stayed frozen in place but he knew how soft the couch cushions were. After all you had picked them because you were obsessed with how plush they were.

"What is something that's real"

“You’re here with me”

"Oh, Jamie"

"You're always here" Bucky's voice cracked with emotion, the tears he had been holding in falling down his cheeks and staining his Henley.

You smiled sadly, shaking your head.

"I'm not, baby" Your voice was a gentle whisper, wishing you could reach out to cup his scruffy cheek, wiping the steady stream of tears that continued to pour down his face "But I wish I was"

-

Now I had planned on stopping here, insinuating reader had died. however if you don't stand for that, you may continue to read below.

-

Bucky couldn't take it.

6 months.

6 months he'd gone without you, hoping one day it would get easier but the day never came. He hoped the guilt of breaking your heart would balance with the fact that you'd be safer without him but not having you by his side was worse than any kind of torture he'd endured. He didn't think he was worthy of your love but now here he was, craving it more than ever.

He thought his love for you would make him selfless enough to carry on alone just to keep you out of harms way but his walls were crumbling further each day.

He needed you so bad.

He wanted to be selfish.

For his luck, you hadn't gone far. He'd made sure to keep tabs on you long after you left, anxiety eating him alive on days where you did something differently from your routine. Even if you were not together, he'd make sure you were protected.

****

You put away your groceries for the week, shuffling around the tiny apartment you'd moved back into 6 months ago, going through the motions as if your heart hadn't been split into two. No amount of convincing allowed him to believe he deserved you. You shook away that train of thought, a gentle knock at the door breaking you away from the small kitchenette.

You hesitated, debating on reaching for the knife you had hidden under the cupboard, something Bucky had taught you when he insisted on also teaching you self defense. The gentle knocking continued as you unlocked the handle without undoing the chain, gasping when you opened the door.

There he was.

The man you still cried over each night.

The man who still owned your entire heart.

The man who you adored with your entire being to the end of the earth and back. You shakily undid the chain, letting him inside, still too shocked to say anything.

"M'sorry" His voice came out a broken whisper, bottom lip already trembling seeing you wrapped up in a hoodie he thought had lost. "I'm sorry darling"

You didn't realize you'd broken down into tears until you felt him wrap you up, hugging you tightly to his chest, his own emotions overwhelming him.

"Please don't cry" Bucky wept into your hair as he clung onto you, rocking you in his strong arms, "Please baby, not over me, don't cry angel"

"I-I-al-already-c-cried-so-much" You choked and hiccupped between sobs, clinging onto Bucky harder as if he'd disappear into thin air the same way he did each night when you woke up from your dreams. The bed would feel cold and empty, the room too quiet and your heart all alone. "I'll-cr-y-if-I-w-want-t-to"

You let out a shaky huff, your brows knitted together into a pouty frown, trying hard to be angry with him, angry at the fact that he didn't allow you to love him the way he deserved, angry that he pushed you away instead of trying to workout a different solution. Bucky couldn't help but let out a wet chuckle between sniffles, giving you a soft squeeze and tilting your face up to peck your bottom lip which had been jutting out.

"I never want you to cry again love, I'll never make that mistake again" He swore, looking deeply into your eyes, cradling your head against where his heart was hammering against his chest. "Never again sweetheart, I'm so sorry I pushed you away baby, I can't do this without you, I love you so much"

You whimpered at his words, allowing him to lift you up, your legs moving on their own to wrap around his waist, burying your face into the crook of his neck. Bucky carried you all the way back and straight to the bedroom. He wanted nothing more than to hold and cuddle you, craving more with each passing minute until he was as close as he could possibly be. He stayed inside you, smiling against your sweat slicked skin, not bothering to pull out once the entire night.

"I'm finally home" He whispered against your skin, pressing soft kisses to your cheeks while you looked at him quizzically, giggling at his lips continues to dance across your lips, "It's not home without you"

[steddieas-shegoes]

CONGRATS ON 3000!!! ❤️ That’s so exciting!

For the ask game, I’d love to see your take on the song Heaven, Iowa by Fall Out Boy! (I vibe with “Scar-crossed lovers forever” as a Steddie-coded lyric but honestly whatever comes to mind for you when you hear the song is great!)

Congrats again!! 💕🎉

Thank you! I got a few different steddie-coded lyrics from this song, but the one you provided is good for something short, so I’m sticking with that! ♥️

〰️➿〰️➿〰️➿〰️➿〰️

He wasn’t even supposed to be here. Wayne specifically asked him to stop coming to the Harrington parties, didn’t want him to risk being caught when they inevitably got shut down.

He knows he’d be in deep shit if a cop managed to catch him and see what he had in his lunchbox.

But one of his best customers insisted he stop by, promising he knew enough people would buy his entire inventory. He wouldn’t have to stay long.

“That’ll be $30 for the bag, or $10 if you just want a joint,” Eddie told one of the girls who always gave him dirty looks in the hall to cover up the hungry look she gave him at parties.

“What about the harder stuff?” She asked, looking up at him through her eyelashes.

“Don’t have any on me,” he rolled his eyes. They should know by now he only handles those items when requested.

“Fine. Just a joint then.”

He exchanges his product for her money, another addition to his savings that seemed to constantly dwindle on useless. He never stopped trying though.

She was his last customer in the line that had built up in the kitchen, so he decided to make his way to the backyard to finish up. Not many people usually hung out there when it was this chilly outside, but he had to give it a shot.

The patio surrounding the pool was absent of people, but he decided to take that as a sign that he needed a minute alone.

He heard a sniffle and his head shot over to the table in the corner of the covered area.

“Harrington?”

What the hell was he even doing out here? Was he crying?

“I’ll be in in a minute.”

Jesus. He sounded like someone had tried to strangle him. Was he sick?

“Dude, you okay?” Eddie steps closer, hopes he doesn’t end up regretting choosing kindness. “It’s kinda cold out here.”

Steve was sitting in a chair, knees up to his chest, arms around his legs. His face was half-buried in his knees, but Eddie could still make out the shivering.

“Yeah. Just needed some air.”

“You shouldn’t stay out here long without a jacket, man.”

Steve didn’t respond.

Eddie was actually growing more concerned for him, like maybe he’d been drugged with something and couldn’t move.

“Hey, look at me,” Eddie snaps his fingers in Steve’s face, relaxing slightly when he glares up at him with surprisingly clear, but watery eyes. “You need a jacket.”

“I’m fine. Go back inside.”

“You won’t be if you sit out here much longer. You’ll freeze to death. And then I’ll have to live the rest of my life knowing I could have stopped it by making you go inside and I’ll die feeling guilty.”

Was it dramatic? Yes. Did it make Steve give the tiniest smile and lift his head to look at him completely? Also yes.

“It wouldn’t be your fault.”

There was a cut under Steve’s left eye, and as his eyes adjust to the light coming from the windows, he sees a purple bruise surrounding most of the left side of his face.

“What happened?”

“The crown was pretty heavy when it fell,” Steve laughs without humor.

Eddie feels his stomach sink further.

“Who did this?”

It’s not like Eddie could do much, but maybe he could at least make sure he didn’t sell to the guy.

“Doesn’t matter.” Steve placed his legs down, careful, like he was trying not to hurt himself more. “You got anything left?”

Eddie should say no. He should leave now, head to the comfort and warmth of the trailer, forget about this interaction entirely. Maybe give one awkward head nod to Steve at school on Monday as an acknowledgment he didn’t forget, but won’t say anything to anyone.

“Just the one joint. You want it?” Eddie set his lunchbox on the table across from Steve and sat down.

“How much?” Steve turned to face him, reaching into his pocket for his wallet.

“Free for the host.”

That’s not something Eddie ever did, but if anyone needed it, it was Steve.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Well, I am. You got a lighter on you?”

Steve shook his head.

“Then I light it and get the first drag. Deal?”

Steve nodded.

Eddie is gonna regret this entire interaction, but of all his regrets, it’s probably pretty low on the list, so he pulls his lighter out and does exactly what he said he would.

Steve is watching him so intensely, it’s almost enough to make him blush. He won’t, he hopes, but it’s a hell of an effort.

“This why you’re sitting out here instead of enjoying your party?” Eddie asked as he hands over the joint.

“Part of it,” Steve takes a long drag. “Just tired of it.”

“Tired of what?”

“All of it.”

An alarm starts going off in Eddie’s head, a reminder that Steve may seem like he’s got the entire world, but those who hold the world tend to lose their grip.

“All of it meaning…”

“All of this. The parties, the people who only like me because I have money and throw parties, the popularity contest I didn’t even ask to participate in, the fucking concussions and nightmares. I’m just-“ Steve takes another drag. “I’m just tired. You should go back inside.”

Eddie watches him lean back in his chair, his shirt riding up and exposing just enough of his stomach to see a scar. The moonlight reflects off the lighter line of skin.

“Nah. Kinda like it out here. It’s quiet. Company ain’t bad either.”

Steve looks back at him with a frown. “Don’t have to pretend to like me, dude. Everyone else already does that enough.”

“Who said I like you? I’m tolerating you.” Eddie smirks, waits for Steve to recognize he’s joking. When Steve relaxes, he nods towards the scar on Steve’s stomach. “Appendix?”

“What?” Steve glances down. “Oh. Yeah. When I was 12.”

“I was 14 when I got mine out,” Eddie lifts his layers to show off his matching scar. “My Uncle Wayne thought I was dying. He didn’t even know what an appendix was, let alone that it can cause all this trouble.”

“Yeah. My parents weren’t home when mine ruptured so I had to call the neighbors.”

Eddie frowns down at the table. “They leave you alone a lot? Even then?”

“Yeah. Not a big deal. I made it through okay.”

Okay isn’t the word Eddie would describe, but Eddie didn’t wanna argue.

“You eat a ridiculous amount of ice cream after?” Eddie’s smile grew when Steve nodded. “I convinced Wayne it was the only thing I could eat for nearly a week after.”

Steve laughed, Eddie smiles.

“You got a nice laugh, Harrington.”

He watches as Steve gets red in the face, a beautiful blush covering his cheeks and spreading down his neck.

“Not sure the last time I really laughed,” Steve admitted.

“Shame.”

Eddie stood up, grabbed his lunchbox, and walked around to stand in front of Steve. Steve looked up at him with glassy eyes, the high already sinking in.

“Want me to clear everyone out?” Eddie shouldn’t offer that, or anything. But Steve looks so lost, so tired.

“Nah. It’s nice just not being alone, even if it’s people I don’t like.”

“That’s fucked, man.”

“Yeah, well,” Steve shrugged. “Thanks for the weed.”

“Anytime.”

Eddie doesn’t know what comes over him. Maybe it’s the one drag of the joint he’d taken, maybe it’s the cold air, or maybe it’s just that annoying crush he’s had on Steve Harrington for years.

He reaches out, cups Steve’s cheek in his hand, and holds him for just a moment.

Neither of them say anything when Steve leans into it.

They don’t say anything when Eddie pulls away with a sad smile.

They won’t talk about it again at school.

But when Steve saves Eddie from the Upside Down a full year later, when he’s sitting at his bedside cupping Eddie’s cheek in his hand, they both seem to remember at the same time.

“We’ve got two matching scars now, Harrington.”

“Don’t think the appendix has anything on demobat scars, Munson.”

“What happened to calling me honey? I liked that.”

“What happened to sweetheart?”

Eddie let out a small laugh. “You’re gonna be trouble, sweetheart.”

“But I’m gonna be your trouble, honey.”

[yuan4i]

05. salty lips

"lynetteee! scara and i brought some microwave popcorn for the movie!" you said, handing her the box of orville redenbacher microwave popcorn. thanks; my brother’s currently out with his friends, so there won’t be any disturbances." she said, taking the box and gesturing for you and scaramouche to sit on the couch. "what movie should we start with?" "spirited away!! it’s scara’s favorite!" you beamed. "we watched it several times still; we always end up crying haha-" before you could finish, your boyfriend interrupted you by shoving popcorn in your mouth. "just… shut up and watch the movie, he said, looking away, flustered. 

[11:30 "it’s almost night. leave before it gets dark."] "ngh, haku’s so hot." "yn, i’m literally right here."

[49:24 "but it’s strange. i remembered yours… go ahead, eat, you must be hungry."] "THE WAY THAT HAKU SPOKE TO CHIRIO AAAH!! i want a man like that, you gushed. "i talk to you that way…" your boyfriend pouted. every time you two watch this movie, you always fan about haku. "not gonna lie, scara, you kind of do sound like haku." lynette said. "omg yeah!! he totally does!" 

[1:22:04 haku! stop, go away! scrat scrat! haku! it’s you, right?"]  "uwahhh chihiro’s so cute... her running to haku makes my heart melt." you sighed. "yeah, HAKU and CHIHIRO are basically canon. they like EACH OTHER." scaramouche reminded you. "sheesh, you didn’t need to break my heart like that…" "wait, i thought haku and chihiro were siblings…" "WAIT THEY ARE?? LYNETTE EXPLAIN?" 

[1:58:38 "can we meet again?" "i’m sure." "promise?" "promise."]  "this part always gets me…" you started tearing up. "haku promised her…" your boyfriend started to get emotional too. "i’ll get the tissues…" 

after you and scaramouche finished crying, you three made a new batch of popcorn. "howl’s moving castel next? i think you two will feel better by the end of it…" lynette suggested picking up the remote. truthfully, neither you nor scaramouche have watched howl’s moving castle yet. you two were planning on watching it last week, but you two got busy, and then when you both were free, an argument between you two struck. "yeah, let’s watch it." your boyfriend agreed. 

[7:02 "that’s my girl."] "he’s like... really hot… but yn, don’t even. i know what you’re going to say." the indigo-haired male said before you could say anything. how could you not though? this hot, flirty blonde appeared on the screen, and he even had a soothing voice! "he’s everything, scara, you don’t under-" "lynette! i’m home! and why does it smell like popcorn?" the front door opened, revealing lynette’s brother, lyney. 

"oh! i didn’t expect there to be guests over at our dorm.” lyney introduced himself to you and scaramouche. "welcome home, lyney... how come you’re home so early? i thought you had plans with your friends…?" lynette asked, pausing the movie. "aether had to go early because he was getting tutored or something, so we all decided to go home... anyways, what are you guys watching?" 

now, you four were sitting on the couch. four of you squished together with you, and lynette jammed in the middle. scara beside you, and lyney on the other side of the couch, beside lynette. "howl’s so charming, you said. "haha, yn, you must really like him?" lyney asked you. "yeah! he’s so kind. not to mention, he looks great with both blonde and black hair." lyney smiled at your response; he loved seeing you happy and hearing you talk. in fact, the sound of your voice soothed him. scaramouche eyed you and lyney’s interactions, then suddenly clung onto you. "ynnnn, i’m getting sleepy... wake me up when the movie’s done, okay?" he asked, yawning, then placed a gentle kiss on your lips. his lips were soft but salty from the popcorn, and you couldn’t remember the last time you two kissed. "yeah! sure, night night, scara, see you soon." you cooed as he leaned onto you.

ANGEL EYES ✿ prev ❀ masterlist ❀ next

lyney x reader SYNOPSIS you’re at a bar, drinking your heart out after another having a feud with your boyfriend of 2 years. you later stop at your friend’s house to stay the night but… the one who opens the door isn’t her but instead, her brother…?

notes : not sure if you guys remember, but in the last chapter for notes i mentioned that i met a cute guy!! well now i got his number and i've been talking to him daily 💕💕 the only problem is... i'm scared his best friend likes him and i don't wanna interfere LOL anyways, sorry for updating soso late! i've been busy with school &lt;/3

[pinejayy]

╰┈➤ Brat Tamer || Demon Slayer

including: kokushibo, muzan, and hentengu clones

summary: reader is being a brat and they need to be taught a lesson, and how would they get punished.

warnings: some nsfw (for muzan) spanking from kokushibo and the clones being meanies :((

Kokushibo || Will spank you

At the moment you were naked laying on your stomach on Kokushibo’s lap, and he raised his hand and slapped your roughly on your ass making you whine out softly. “Oh crying already you Brat? Well you have five more to go.” He said harshly. You whimper and tears started to steam down your face as he was spanking your bare bottom, you decided to be a brat today and he wasn’t in the mood for it. As he was giving you your last strikes he looked at your butt, it was red and bruised up and he smirked at the slight. And with one more hit he raised his hand high and slapped your cheek roughly making you cry out. As you cried softly, he roughly grabbed your hair forcing you to look at him. “This is only a warning, next time you decide to be a brat you’ll have a rougher punishment.”

Muzan || Will overstimulate you

The Demon King did not care about your whines, he wasn’t going to stop pounding into you. “Shut up..You want to act like a brat then I’ll treat you like one.” He hissed softly, against your ear, making you cry out, your legs shake as you couldn’t take it anymore, tears started to stream down your face. Muzan moaned against your ear as he kept thrusting inside of you, he had no intention of stopping, and especially with you cry like this made it more fun. As you cry he smirked, letting out a sigh he pulled out making you whimper. As you shake he looked at you. “Hm I think you learned your lesson, make sure it never happens again. Got it.” He said, making you nod. He smiled at you and with that he got up and began to clean himself.

Sekido || Will choke you

As you were against the wall gasping for air, you thought it would have been funny to be a brat towards Sekido but he was in a even worse mood than usual that he pinned you against the wall, choking you. He didn’t apply too much pressure but just enough to teach you a lesson. “You little brat..You’re lucky that I don’t kill you this very moment.” He growled, tighten his grip around your neck even more making you claw at his hands, this made him chuckle. “Look at you, how pathetic..” He growled, and he sighed letting you go. Making you fall to the ground and cough up like crazy. He just looked down at you. “Don’t ever test me Darling, next time I won’t be so gentle.”

Karaku || Will bite you

As he had you pinned against the wall, you tried to push him away but it was no use with his strength. Crying softly, as he had his fangs deep into your neck he moaned at the taste of your blood. “Mm I didn’t know a brat like you would taste this good.” He would say against your skin, closing your eyes as tears stream down your face. Blood dripping down from the corner of his lips. He pulled his teeth out and watched the blood pour out, he smirked out and licked the blood. “Shh don’t cry, you’re lucky I’m just doing this...if not” He laughed loudly “You would have become my next meal, now be a doll and stay still as I enjoy myself.”

Aizetsu || Will guilt trip you

Tears were streaming down your face as you watched your boyfriend get on his knees crying on your feet. “Please tell me Y/N what did I do? What did I do to deserve this attitude of yours?” He whimpered out, as he looked up at you. Tears pouring out from his blue eyes. “Wasn’t I good enough for you! I treated you with so much kindness..” He cried out. “I’m sorry Aizetsu...Please I’m so sorry. I promise not to treat you like that ever again.” You cried out, getting on your knees and you wrap your arms around him and cry hard. Making him wipe his tears and quickly return the hug, and as you hugged him he couldn’t help but smirk “Good..” He whispers and kisses your forehead.

Urogi || Will use his talons on you

As the Demon had you pinned against the floor, he began digging his claws on your hips making you cry out in pain which made him laugh out loud. “Oh! Can’t handle your punishment, then why behave like a brat?” He giggled out, and began digging his claws into your skin even more. Blood was pouring out, and his mouth started to water, quickly pulling his claws out of you and raising his hand to his lips licking off the blood. “Hm why don’t I let you off with a warning if you let me lick off the blood from your hips.” Making you nod your head, and with a quick motion he was already licking off the blood, as you hiss in pain he just moaned at the taste of your blood.

[thevampiremarie]

Summertime Sadness (part 1)

Simon "Ghost" Riley x reader

Second chance romance, heavy angst, hurt/very little comfort

Later’s better than never… right?

Ten years ago, Simon and you met at the same therapeutic boarding school. You fought, he said some shit, he left. He thought he’d never see you again.

Until one day, a hospital calls and informs him that you’ve listed him as your emergency contact.

(title from the song by Lana Del Rey)

-

Tags: mental illness, abuse, addiction, self harm, suicidality/suicidal ideation/suicide attempts, angsty shit in general, Ghost being very mean as a fucked up 17 year old boy

There’s an old battered flip phone he hides in the back of his locker wherever he’s deployed. Ghost doesn’t turn it on all that often. Everyone who knows the number is dead.

But sometimes he does, just to stare at the contacts and click through the photos and remember what it was like to talk to them.

Today is one of those days.

He can only take so much talk from his team about families, friends, dogs waiting back home, and pretty girls before feeling the urge to break things.

So he excuses himself to hide in the bathroom like a fucking pussy and takes the phone with him. Simon can pretend he’s waiting for his own phone call from people who love him for a few minutes. Then he promises himself that he’ll put it away and not touch it for another six months.

It takes forever to power on. It’s still janky from the last time Ghost threw it at a wall, it seems.

One (1) missed call.

…What?

They left a voicemail.

His fingers shake as he listens to it.

There’s a long, tinny beep. “Hi, Mr. Riley, I’m…” A woman says in a rushed, businesslike manner. “I’m one of the nurses at-“ Ghost hears a bustle of background noise; faint murmurs, emergency sirens, doors sliding open and shut. “…Hospital. I’m calling because a friend of yours,” The nurse says your name. A name he hasn’t thought about in years. “…Put you down as her emergency contact when we admitted her to our psychiatric inpatient ward. Unfortunately, she did not provide us with anyone else. Please give me a call back at this number if you’d like to speak with her.” Click.

Ghost starts packing an overnight bag before he even realizes it.

Then he’s on a plane.

-

TEN YEARS AGO

“I hate you.”

You’re crying as you run after him in the forest. He speeds up, trying to lose you in the trees. “Please, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Simon. I’ll never bring it up again.” Snot covers your upper lip and your eyes are bright with tears.

He hates this fucking place. He hates this fucking school, the kilometers of wilderness separating him from his life because the fucking shrinks think he’s crazy. He hates you for trying to keep him here.

And just when Simon was about to fly the coop, you spilled the beans. “Leave me the fuck alone. Never, ever, ever talk to me again,” He barks, stopping abruptly and turning to loom over you.

When you reach for his hand, he slaps you away. “But you promised you wouldn’t leave-“ You end up on the ground, the pine needles biting into your bare knees as if Simon shoved you.

That makes him angrier. You’re too soft for a world like this. You’re practically begging for someone to hurt you again, someone like him, with your vulnerability and open, bleeding heart. Well, he’ll fucking oblige. You’re not strong like you think you are. You’re the weakest person he knows, and weakness is something Simon could never respect.

“I lied. I fucking lied, you dumb bitch. Didn’t you realize it?” Simon snarls, wishing desperately he’d never let you befriend him on his first day at this therapeutic program.

You're sunshine and innocence and friendship bracelets, the kind of girl who will always be a victim because this world devours little girls like you. Simon is nothing like you. Simon is a survivor. A warrior. Simon is steel where you are china.

Your American accent is almost as unbearable as your pathetic weeping. “…What?” Your bottom lip wobbles.

Hopefully this will teach you a lesson about tattling. Nobody likes a snitch. “Forever doesn’t fucking exist. You were the only tolerable person in this shithole, but that doesn’t mean I wanted to be friends forever. What are you, a fucking infant? God, you’ve been nothing but a pain in my ass.” If anything, Simon is letting you off easy. You told the counselor things Simon told you in confidence about his dad because you were ‘afraid for his safety.’

But you just don’t get it. Simon can’t spend another day here. And the longer he stays, the angrier his dad will get. You just earned him another week of shit and black eyes.

“Newsflash. People lie. Everyone’s been lying to you. Nobody likes you, not even your mum. And I can’t stand you. You were useful, but I don’t need you anymore. I’m better,” Simon hisses as cruelly as he can, using every blade in his arsenal to cut at the sensitive parts of you where he knows you’ll bleed. Just like you did when you told.

You’re only stuck in this place because your mum left you here. You don’t have anyone, not like he does. He has Tommy and his mum. He has a future. You’ve got absolutely fucking nothing.

“I was just trying to help.”

“I’m getting out of here. I don’t need your help. I’d tell you to keep it, but it wouldn’t even help you.” Simon pauses. You’ve stopped crying. Good. A crying fox is easy prey for the hunting dogs. “They won't believe you. And you wanna know why?” It feels good to be the hunter instead of the fox for once. You make excellent prey.

“‘Cause I told them the truth. That you’re an obsessed freak who’s hyper fixated on me and you’d do anything to keep me here. That you’re a sick, compulsive liar and that you’re the one who’s a danger to herself, not me.”

You fall silent. Finally, blessed silence. You look up at Simon with glazed eyes and a still tongue. He feels better. Good, even.

“Goodbye. I hope I never see you again,” Simon says flatly.

-

TODAY

You picked a good place to get yourself locked up in. This is one of the nicest hospitals Ghost has been in recently. Shiny floors, no dirt caking the walls. New York City puts Kabul and Moscow to shame.

He’s wearing a plain black balaclava. Nothing identifying or particularly memorable. This is going to be a short visit. Ghost will see what you want and then leave. That’s it.

You look tired, exhausted to the very bone.

None of the shiny pinkness that drew Ghost to you in the beginning when you were fifteen and he was seventeen. None of the glow, the round cheeks, the wide doe eyes.

There’s dark circles chiseled into your face, so dark he almost thinks they’re bruises. A couple of IV bags run through a drip hidden under bandages covering your arms from wrist to elbow. Your eyes are as quiet as you are. A couple of marbles would be more lively. You look almost like a doll forgotten in a corner.

The nurse gave Ghost the run-down as she guided him to your bed. Police picked you up on a bridge trying to off yourself. Your fifth time this year. Unless you show some real improvement, the doctors will recommend an indefinite hospitalization.

You’ve been busy in the decade of his absence. Multiple addictions, more attempts than he can count, and some small stints in jail. A list of disorders he wouldn’t know how to pronounce. And nobody left to call.

Is this his fault?

When Ghost rounds the corner, you smile like he should be proud of you. “You came,” You say.

I have absolutely no business starting a new fic. Absolutely none. Idk. I have brainrot. No clue when this will be updated. But here, have it.

[gravehags]

son of perdition

Pairing: Cardinal Copia x f!Reader (Curator!Reader)

Rating: Teen

Tags: tw descriptions of vomiting, copia being a care giver, confessions and revelations, antichrist copia, curator reader series lore

Words: 1,717

Summary: And Hell followed with him.

a/n: copia is going to fist fight imperator in the street while curator reader fist fights nihil. terzo is filming the whole thing in 4k.

~~~

You don’t even last twenty-four hours with the secret Sister Imperator has burdened you with before it comes crawling back out of your gut at 3 am.

You’re already gagging when you throw the covers back and stumble into the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet in time. It takes four heaves to empty your stomach until it spasms inside you and comes to a stop as you cry and drool and spit pathetically, hunched over the bowl. You don’t even hear Copia get up, let alone hear him come into the bathroom and lean over you to flush the toilet and push your hair back.

“Poverina,” he murmurs, gently easing you backwards to slump against the cool tile wall. You’re still looking at the toilet warily as he grabs a rag from the counter and wets it, bringing it to your mouth. When you finally look at him - the way his brow is furrowed as he kneels in front of you cleaning you up - another loud sob is wrenched from you.

“Amore, what is it? What’s wrong? You were acting so strange all day before we went to bed. I know you, dolcezza, this is no stomach bug,” he says, dropping the rag as tears continue to pour down your face and he gently holds your chin, “What happened?”

None of what I’m about to tell you can leave this office.

You look at the worried face of the man you love.

He would tell you.

“C-Copia,” your voice is hoarse, “we need to talk.”

Copia looks at your tearful face and to the toilet and his eyes get wide.

“Amore, you’re not…”

“No!” you blurt out, “But…that’s part of it. Eugh…let me brush my teeth and we’ll get back in bed. I’ll explain everything, I promise. I promise, my love.”

He nods and reaches his hands out to haul you off the bathroom floor and gives you one last curious glance before shuffling back into the bedroom. Once you’ve completed your task and give yourself a long, hard look in the mirror you shut the light off and walk back to bed. Copia is sitting up with the covers pooled around his waist and your eyes flick to the tattoo on his pectoral as lead settles in your empty stomach. When you crawl in beside him he gently takes your hands in his and you take a deep breath.

“I…I don’t even know where to start.”

“Tell me everything from the moment you left my office yesterday, amore mio.”

“Right. Right. I uh. I got an email yesterday morning from Sister Imperator saying she wanted me to come to her office to talk. I thought I was, y’know, getting fired or something. It wasn’t that though. She told me…ugh,” you squeeze your eyes shut and reopen them with another deep breath, “She told me that I was…chosen. By Satan.”

“For…for what?”

“To…ugh this is so fucked up…to carry your child. She said that's why she hired me.”

The look of abject horror and fury on Copia’s face would make you physically recoil if he weren’t gripping your hands so tightly.

“She said what?” he breathes, and you swear his white eye flashes in the dim light of the bedroom. “Why the fuck…how could she say…unless...”

A self-deprecating little smirk slowly twists his lips and he exhales angrily through his nose.

“Copia she said–”

“--that I’m the Antichrist, sì?”

You’re floored. Sister Imperator had acted like this was an enormous secret that Copia was not aware of.

“Y-yeah. Yeah that’s what she said, Copia how–”

He gives you a sad smile.

“I told you I was always treated differently as a child, huh? People either treated me with kid gloves or complete derision. I’m not an idiot, I figured it out young. These, eh,” he raises his hands and displays the distinct scars on them, “were kind of a giveaway. It should be a great honor to know that the Unholy Father is…your father but all it ever did was give me grief. Eh, I suppose it beats Nihil refusing to accept that I’m his kid. Sathanas has at least been there for me - perhaps not physically but spiritually.”

“I was going to ask,” you start quietly, “I mean…you call the papas your brothers and for the longest time I just thought that was because you’ve known each other for so long but…the eyes…”

“You don’t know how the other kids at the abbey would torment me - knowing I was an Emeritus son but never being acknowledged by Nihil. Being hated by Nihil. Nothing’s fucking changed, I guess,” Copia mutters, “Nihil must have roped my mother into some ritual where he was possessed. Sathanas, what I wouldn’t give to have known her. It’s been a long, lonely life, amore. I just wanted someone to love me. Five decades on this earth of nothing but dalliances and heartache and then came…you.”

Copia looks at you with such tenderness you nearly start crying again. The truth about his mother is ready to leap from your tongue when he speaks again.

“You never saw me as, as a tool, or an inconvenience, or, or anything special–”

You’re horrorstruck.

“My love, you are more special to me than I can possibly put into words–”

“Yes, but as you said - special to you. Important to you. Not important to the faith, or important to some agenda being kept from me by the Ministry elders, eh? That was part of the gift of you being from the outside. I had a clean slate.”

“Even though apparently I was destined to be with you all along,” you say, brow furrowing, “Makes you wonder if…”

“Don’t think that,” Copia says quickly, quietly, and deadly serious as he grips your hands once more, “Amore, the most important tenet of my religion is that of free will. Nobody made you accept this job or made us fall in love. Per favore, don’t ever question that. The powers of the Olde One are great but he cannot manufacture emotion where there is none. I swear to you, amata mia.”

You nod, tears once again filling your eyes. Copia raises your hands to his mouth and kisses them.

“Anima mia,” he says, voice cracking, “Tell me…be honest. Does this news change how you feel about me?”

“Never,” you breathe, without a second thought, “Copia, nothing could change how I feel. I…I’ll be the first to admit I don’t fully understand it - not yet - but my love, you could bring about the end of days and I’ll walk into hell with you, hand in hand. I’d do anything for you, but…”

“What, what is it?” his shoulders tense and his grip on your hands tightens.

“Copia I don’t want a baby. Ever.”

His posture sags, clearly showing his relief.

“And amore I do not want anything that you do not want. Fuck the horrific reason Imperator said you were hired. And if putting your foot down was not enough for her then let her try to tell us both how she’s going to force a pregnancy on you, huh? How dare she. How dare she. Free will. Control over our own bodies. How could she twist His message like this? Not on my fucking watch.”

You give him a small smile, relief flooding your veins before you pause. You’ve revealed almost all to him but one thing still lingers. Part of you tells you to hold off, to wait until a time when you’re both less exhausted. Before you can second-guess yourself though, you speak.

“Copia, there’s something else. About Sister Imperator.”

“What’s that then?”

You hesitate, wondering if it’s wise to divulge all the secrets she shared with you. You know it’s a matter of when, not if, she will make you pay. When you look into his anxious gaze, your heart clenches. He deserves the truth. Damn the consequences.

“She’s…your mother, my love. I’m so sorry.”

He goes quiet, looking down to where your fingers are entwined with his. It takes a minute before he speaks again.

“I think part of me always knew,” he murmurs, “She’s always been there, every step of the way. I just don’t understand why it had to be kept from me. Why she couldn’t…why she couldn’t love me outright. Like a mother should, huh?”

“I don’t know,” you say, “It’s…it’s clear she cares about you deeply but I can’t speak to her motivations. She’s a complex woman.”

He snorts softly, a small smile on his face.

“That’s putting it lightly. Well that’s a conversation for another time, my brain can’t process anymore bullshit right now. Eh, what a night. Didn’t think when I was listening to you puke that this is where things would end up.”

Your stomach does another somersault.

“Ugh don’t remind me. But Copia,” you reach up to cup his cheek and he leans into your touch, “Thank you. And I love you. For everything you are and everything you’ve done. Eternally.”

There’s no mistaking the glisten of tears in his eyes this time as he leans in to softly kiss you. When he gently pulls away he rests his forehead against yours.

“We’re taking tomorrow off,” Copia murmurs, “And we’re getting out of the abbey. I’ll text Imperator in the morning to tell her, and if she has a problem I’ll just say that if she doesn’t fuck off I won’t, em—’deceive people with signs and wonders, or sit in the temple of God and claim to be God himself’, eh?”

The laugh that comes out of you is hoarse and tired but genuine.

“Blackmail feels very Antichrist-y of you, my love.”

“See, I’m already great at this. Fear the trembler of nations,” Copia growls, dragging you down onto the bed on top of him. Laughing, you prop your chin up on his sternum.

“Kingdoms to fall one by one?”

He nods, smoothing your hair back.

“Exactly, amore. But first eh, let’s get some sleep.”

“Anything you say, Your Eminence.”

“Oh no, dolcezza mia. Not mine. All yours.”

You yawn and curl into his side.

“Goodnight, my love.”

Copia leans over and turns off the lamp, sighing heavily.

“Buonanotte, amore.”

You dream of hellfire.

You sleep more soundly than you have in a long, long time.

[inkdrinkerworld]

I have a request if they’re open! I’m think dealer!remus comforting autistic reader since she’s scared that Remus is one of her hyper-fixactions. Totally not projecting myself into this 🫣

some of my past relationships have just felt like hyper-fixations of mine so I feel like autistic reader may feel the same idk. What do you think? 💗💗💗

i can see this and i understand this and so this was born:

liking remus and laughing at his jokes and spending time with him starts to feel weird out of nowhere.

you’re at his apartment, legs in his lap, munching on some fruit he got when you said yes to coming over, when the inkling that he might be a hyper fixation pops up.

you’re learning everything about him, spending days on end with him, doing your favourite things and his and suddenly the crush you’d had on him feels like it’ll end the moment you say the inevitable, ‘i like you more than friends remus.’

all of a sudden, your chest feels tight with your lack of surety and you curse your brain for how it works.

you can’t stop looking at him and wondering what what moment exactly will your brain decide that whatever is being built is over and he’s no longer interesting.

remus turns to you, cutting your silent crisis short with a worried look.

“what’s wrong?” he asks, squeezing your heel where it rests on his thigh.

it’s hard to find the words to tell him because if it is a hyper fixation remus should know; but then if it isn’t you run the risk of telling him of your feelings prematurely.

“dove?” he sits up straight, hand holding onto your shin now.

“s-sorry, got lost in my head.” it’s not a whole lie.

remus doesn’t seem settled with the answer and takes the almost finished bowl of assorted fruit from you and sets it on his coffee table.

“anything you can talk about?” you’re grateful for the way he phrases it and that fact makes itself known when tears spring to your eyes.

you really hope he isn’t a hyper fixation. you’re not aware that your breathing is harsh and labored until remus tugs you into his lap.

“hey,” his thumb collects the tears on the apples of your cheeks and you shut your eyes not having the heart to continue looking at him “what’s the matter, dove? you’re scaring me.”

he is scared, terrified that somehow he’s ruined whatever you both have got going on and he doesn’t know.

he doesn’t know you’re just as terrified that your brain has built him up and is about to make him come crashing down and make you disgusted by him soon enough.

“i’m sorry for crying,” you say softly and remus sucks at his teeth.

“don’t be sorry for that dove. crying is good.”

there goes your heart, racing away with his easygoing, kind words.

“you can tell me anything, y’know that yeah?” you nod, letting the feeling of his thumb stroking your cheek help regulate you.

“i think my brain is playing tricks on me,” you say softly after a couple beats of silence.

remus frowns but doesn’t interrupt. he doesn’t want to set you off the course you’ve started.

“you know how sometimes you watch a show and there’s just something about it that makes you want to know everything about everything?” you open your eyes to catch his nod.

“i think my brain is doing that with you, but the part i’m scared about is after when i’ve learnt everything there is to know.”

“why? do you think you’ll know something you don’t want to?”

you huff a laugh and shake your head. “i’m afraid that when i know everything about you, my brain will decide that’s enough and i won’t want to know anything else about you again.”

remus coos and it makes more tears spring to your eyes. he pulls your forehead to press against his, noses brushing and if you weren’t crying you’d be hyper aware of how close you are.

“i can’t promise that won’t happen,” he says gently, thumb grounding you as it continues stroking your cheek.

“but, i can promise that even if your brain decides you’re done with me, i won’t hold it against you. and i’ll always be here for when your brain decides that it wants to know something again.”

your tears don’t stop and remus doesn’t try to stop them. he holds you till you cry every last bit of moisture from your body and he holds you some more when you fall asleep clinging to him on his sofa.

[robo-writing]

Celebrating Thanksgiving

Description: You should’ve known that celebrating the holidays with Johnny would lead to this.

Tags: John “Soap” MacTavish/Reader, no use of y/n, AFAB pronouns/genitalia

Rating: 18+, MDNI

Authors note: yeah I wrote this in 45 minutes with no editing this stupid scottish man gives me life-threatening brainworms, sorry

Celebrating the holidays with Johnny is always a spectacle in the best kind of way. You never found yourself to be overly excited when the holidays came around, mostly just treating it like another day, but that all changed when a certain blue-eyed Scotsman came barreling into your life.

Suddenly you found yourself anticipating the days when it’s just you and Johnny enjoying each other’s company.

You could spend the rest of your life in this moment and never grow tired, from putting up early Christmas decorations to cooking dinner, the latter of which you were currently occupied with as Johnny set the table.

“Smells like heaven in there lovie!” He says from down the hall. Like clockwork you can feel him take up space behind you, watching you diligently as you prepare for dinner.

“I’m not letting you have a taste Johnny,” you reply, holding in a laugh when you feel him pout against your cheek. “Wait until I’m done, then you can eat as much as you want.”

You should know by now to be more careful with your words, especially when you know how insatiable Johnny can be. “Now hen, it feels like you aren’t talking about the food.”

“Johnny.”

His hands find their way to your hips, holding you gently as he kisses your neck. “Just saying, the turkey isn’t the only thing that has to get stuffed tonight.”

“Jesus Christ,” you laugh, turning around to witness his shit-eating grin. “I think that’s the worst joke you’ve ever told me.”

“Gimme a couple days, ‘m sure I’ll think of something worse.”

God awful joke aside, you’d be a liar if you said the idea wasn’t intriguing, and the way he’s looking at you is definitely not helping.

“I can see it in your eyes hen, come now,” he kisses at your face, once, twice, before capturing your lips in a searing kiss. “You’ve been at the stove all day, let’s take a break—promise I’ll make you feel good.”

That’s not a promise you’ve ever known Johnny to break, so when he drags you down to the nearest couch and sits between your legs, you happily let him.

Legs dangling on his shoulders, licking at his lips as he pulls your pants down and grins wide when he sees you exposed and waiting, not taking a second to hesitate before he’s face first into your pussy. Immediately it’s as if a weight has been taken off your shoulders, the stress of preparing for the holidays melting away and slowly being replaced by the pleasure that is Johnny’s greedy mouth against your sex. He laps at your cunt like it’s his job, moving against you until his face turns red and his chin is soaked in your juices.

“Christ, didn’t even need to prep you huh?” He mutters between kisses. “Like she’s made for me, huh bonnie?”

His eyes flutter shut when you tug his face closer, nose deep as he eats you out. Johnny treats your pussy like it’s royalty, talks you through your orgasm when your legs close tight around his head and goes right back to devouring you the second your legs stop shaking.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got ya—she’s begging me for it you know, she’s just waiting for me to put my mouth back on ‘er—“

He puts his thumb right on your clit, watches as your pussy twitches with each rub, mesmerized at the view. “See bonnie? She wants me so badly, she’s gaggin’ fer it, needy little cunt she is.”

You’re so dazed that you can barely register his belt being undone to free his aching cock, thrusting against the cushions with barely any care to his own pleasure so long as his mouth is filled with your taste. You nearly cry from how long he keeps you like this, whimpering for a break that he doesn’t give you.

You beg, heels digging into his back as tears build up in your eyes. You can only take so much pleasure before your first reaction is to pull away, an idea Johnny doesn’t entertain before he pulls you back down and holds you firm.

“Oh no hen, don’t run now, not when your pussy’s practically calling my name—she needs me y’know? Don’t try to take her away from me.“ he rambles before diving back in to explore your pussy. The way he talks to you, or your pussy rather, it’s like an addiction he can’t quit.

He spits into your wetness, spreading the mess with his tongue before going back to whispering praise between your legs with a reverence unheard of. “She’s so wet fer me, so fucking delicious—I bet she can take another one, yeah? Yeah, I think she can—“

As he wrings another orgasm from you, you question whether or not the two of you will even make it to the dining table this thanksgiving.

[rev-wrath]

All my stars

Jason Todd x Reader

Summary: You take Jason to see the stars.

Info: Fluff, angst at the end. No gendered pronouns are used for Reader, so feel free to imagine whatever you want. 1.4k words.

A gentle breeze makes its way across the property. Soon Jason will be pulled away for his nightly duties, but for now he lays here with you on a blanket on the lawn of Wayne Manor. Your head on his chest, his arm around you. Taking the time to say goodbye to the warm summer season with a picnic before it got too cold for them and classes ate up more time and energy than you’d like. For the day you had already said goodbye to the sun, left with the dark gray and blue mix you knew as the night sky here.

“We should go camping over spring break.” You say softly.

“We could go during a weekend.”

“We could,” You agree, “but I want more time out there.” Rolling over to your stomach, you have a look of softness that makes Jason’s breath stop for a second. “I want to show you the stars. You deserve to see them more than a weekend would give us.”

A warmth fills his own heart, and not for the first time, for a moment you are all Jason knows. You want to go out to the woods outside of the city to show Jason the stars. Something he hadn’t really thought of in a while. Something that didn’t exist here in the polluted city of Gotham. If he was honest, the thought of you just wanting to show Jason the stars because you know this makes him want to cry a little. “We can go camping over spring break. We should go.” There’s a million more words on his tongue but he’s not sure which ones to say, if any of them.

You smile and lean over, placing a kiss between his eyebrows, his eyes fluttering shut.

“I love you, Jason.”

“Love you too.” He says your name with your reverence, like you’re some kind of god. To him, you might be something like that, he thinks as your lips meet.

When Bruce is presented with the idea some months later, his eyebrows crease. “I’ll think about it.”

Jason refused to let up. You had made a joke that Bruce needed a powerpoint presentation or diagrams on large pads of paper to understand. Jason grinned.

Bruce got presented with a powerpoint. Alfred found the whole thing delightful and funny. Everyone knew Bruce did too, it could be seen in his eyes just a little. The butler added his own comment after Bruce spoke, making his allegiance clear.

“Perhaps, Master Bruce, you would also have some personal benefit from a little excursion in the forest. Take time away from your endeavors and from a distance you could keep an eye on the young master and lady while giving them privacy.”

That Bruce could agree to a little more, after a few weeks of Alfred and Jason, along with you once, bringing it up he gave in.

Once break rolls around Alfred sends all of you off with a soft, cheerful smile. Your hushed voices and laughter in the backseat bring a smile to Bruce’s face. Every so often Jason pokes his head into the front to talk directly to his dad. Though at one point he pulls out a book, The Outsiders, reading that. You spend most of that time with your head on his shoulder, a hand wrapped around his arm instead of his hand so that he could still flip pages and hold the book. Eventually you reach your destination. A small walk from the beaten path is a big enough clearing for you two and your activities.

Promising Bruce that you would yell if you needed anything and that yes, the two of you can put the tent up by yourselves and could make a fire. He checked everything one more time before allowing you to split from him. You’d meet back up for dinner together. For now you and Jason take up the task of putting up the tent.

Once you had successfully put up the slightly tilted tent you went to gather firewood, a task that mostly involved you and Jason running around chasing each other, your laughter ringing out in the forest and a quick little stick fight with two incredibly nice, sturdy sticks. Despite that you two quickly gathered decent sticks. By the time Bruce made his way back to your little area Jason already had a fire going. Dinner also meant that night would fall soon and the real reason you are out here could happen.

Long after s’mores and Bruce had left, the sun set, giving way to a gorgeous dark blue sky. You and Jason sit next to each other, tucked into each other’s side, as you watch that sky slowly fill with bright flecks of stars. A grin spreads across your face as you look up, a small gasp draws your attention to Jason. Beautiful, wonderful Jason with wide eyes full of wonder, mouth still stuck in that gasp. The stars are reflected within his eyes, it’s beautiful but your focus is still solely on Jason. There isn’t much you wouldn’t do for Jason to keep that look on his face, to keep feeling that feeling, to experience all the wonderful things he hadn’t yet known. He deserves to see the stars every night, to experience this every single day. You’d have to make every second here count, then find what else you could give to him that’d bring this wonder to him.

Jason ended up deciding to ditch the tent, pulling the sleeping bag out to lay it under the stars. “Thank you,” he whispers, holding you against him. “for taking me out here.”

“Thank you for coming. Maybe we can go up the mountain and look at the stars there.” The view from up there would be even better, something Jason deserved. You had no doubt they could handle such a hike to the nearby mountain and up it. How long you’d be up there is a different question though. Would you spend the night up there?

Jason’s voice pulls you from your thoughts. “The stars are beautiful, but they don’t compare to you.”

You smile and kiss him. “You’re not so bad yourself, handsome. Not bad at all.” Jason kisses you this time, murmuring poetry against your lips.

On the third night Jason grabs your hand, tugging you up. “Dance with me?”

“Of course.” You follow him, one hand in his, the other on his shoulder.

The forest provides its own music with the chirps and trills of the bugs, the rustle of the leaves, and if you really concentrate you could hear the nearby stream.

Jason starts humming as you sway together, pressed against one another. Softly, you join in. You don’t know how long you stayed there, wrapped up in each other as the forest sang. What you did know is that you didn’t want to be anywhere else. A part of you wanted to stay forever, but that wasn’t going to happen.

Under those stars you danced, laughed, and kissed Jason. They were your stage, your backdrop, creating so many sacred moments. Each and every night Jason was enraptured by them, and you by him. Eventually it had to come to an end, you had to go back to Gotham with its smog. You promised each other you would come and see the stars together again.

Death would shatter that promise weeks later as you screamed and cried when Bruce returned with Jason’s corpse, neither of you ever to see the stars again. You’re content to resign yourself to the smoggy gray skies of Gotham, with its artificial yellow and oranges, streaked with all other sorts of colors. The forest and its endless stars could be left with his memory and wonder, away from your glooming grief.

Yet, months later when Jason looks up at the sky with green eyes, he can’t help but to think that this sky is more worthy of your gaze, that you should be here looking out into this speckled canvas. Looking at the stars here Jason can’t help but think of you, who took him to see the stars because no one else had, because you wanted him to, because you thought he deserved it. Jason can’t help but to think even here you are still more beautiful than the stars. Jason can’t help but to think of you as he looks at the stars, after all to him you might as well have hung them.