#like everyone is a god now so where’s the stakes

[thisisridiculois]

Listen back when I was like 12 I was OBSESSED with Tower of God on Webtoon and I followed it closely for a few years but then I got so confused and bored during the arc with the like dog people (to many fight scenes and also everyone can fly now???) that I stopped reading HOWEVER I am still ultimate Khun/Bam trash and whenever I think of them I get wistful and I want to reread but I can never get past the confusion. Idk if I should keep going since I know there’s lots out since I stopped reading. The thing is if it’s still just gonna be like fight scenes with very little substance (+ 10 million characters introduced in every arc just to disappear) I feel like I’m gonna have to stop reading again and I don’t wanna reinvest myself….what to do…the nostalgia is calling to me…

[lesbianyosano]

Wait so is this like. The manga version also? Or is this like a full metal alchemist oh shit we ran out of things to animate let’s make up our own story now???? Very confused

i have. no fucking clue to be honest but if i were to guess the manga will be similar?? bc im assuming asagiri and harukawa had the chapters done for months now, early enough to give them to the anime team to animate and 111 is just one of them

i really didnt like this episode i think the pacing was bad and rushed so im hoping theres some more info in the manga?? but also. it would suck so bad if we were now behind the fucking anime and unless we get like 3 fucking chapters next month thats whats going to happen

and with the 2 hours later thing, i dont think its an anime thing bc of how it resembles the fit fukuchi is wearing in that last doa official art, but 2 hours????? girl what on earth is going on. this arc has been so pong and exhausting and the writing has been decreasing in quality and were all tired so the idea of sth huge happening soon is just really not that exciting to me. i want to see the political repercussions and the page not another fight, at least not now

but yeah tldr i dont think this is an anime only resolution, at least not entirely. a lot of the things make sense ig (like bram regarding his body and dropping the vampires, i feel like thats the only thing that could have happened) but maybe the pacing will be better and maybe therell be some useful info

[reinemichele]

Translation here, pages 2-5

(3, 2, 1...) When he looks up, he sees the round night sky, Lit by a wavering azure moon While cursing God’s name, he sings within the bowels of hell... Like giving water to flowers... It follows that... sins require punishment, ah An eventual [Guten Abend], the rushing [sieben Märchen] Turning back on providence [God]... (3, 2, 1...) “This deserted village is just like a graveyard, ehehe...” “Elise, fairytales always begin from the graveyard.” <Why isn’t there anyone in this village now?) (—That’s because everyone died in the past> <Then... why did all the villagers die in the past?) (—That’s because of the plague of black death> Ah... no matter how much you dig, dig, dig the graves, There never seems to be an end! “Such a tragic era...” Ah... a mille-feuille made from Corpse and dirt, corpse and dirt, corpse and dirt “The merciless state of affairs!” ↗ 《To survive》 The goal of life is ↘ 《To multiply》 \Kill!/ \Invade!/ The 【Id】 sings (3, 2, 1...) “That brilliant era in which you’re smiling now— Without hating anyone or regretting death, Let’s meet there for sure.” — The Fairytale of Light and Darkness "The seventh graveyard... Now begins the revenge tragedy." “Ahahaha!!”

[dilf-c0nn0isseur]

Guilty As Sin - Logan Howlett x fem!reader

WARNING! MDNI! includes: age gap(legal!), oral(fem!receiving), p in v penetration & ejaculation, just a lot of smut tbh

word count: 5,094

a/n: i imagined x-men 2000s logan while writing this, ik the timelines kinda fucked but i love writing him like that so.

You had heard of Logan, or what he was better known as, ‘Wolverine.’ Anything you knew of him though was what you had heard during your time at the mansion where you attended Xavier’s school for the gifted. Your studies were short, as you had only attended the year you were set to graduate. Your mutant genes had manifested themselves slightly later than others. Now, a few years graduated, you had found a permanent residence at the mansion as a member of the X-Men. 

You had not once met this man that everyone spoke of, but word amongst the mansion’s occupants suggested that he had gone off on his own for the last couple years. From what you’d gathered, he seemed to do just fine by himself.

After his rather drawn-out absence, Logan finally found himself back at the mansion. He was not troubled by the lack of company over his time away, but some part rooted deep down in him missed the sense of community this place provided. This was something he kept to himself. Vulnerability was not his style. His return was completely unannounced, but word quickly spread. Your curiosity to see Wolverine in the flesh was what brought you downstairs from your room, now leaning against a door frame to catch a glimpse of him without drawing attention towards yourself.

Your eyes focused on him as he pulled back from a welcome embrace with a member of the team, greeting his colleagues that he couldn’t have helped but missed while away. He sported an old, faded brown leather jacket that he unzipped to reveal a black t-shirt. You let your gaze wander to where his shirt was tucked into a pair of dark-wash bootcut jeans, a matching leather belt looped through the holes. 

Then you realized how tall he was in comparison to those that stood around him. He practically towered over the crowd that formed around him. Just his presence took up space. He brought up a large hand to his dark hair and ran his fingers through it.

God, his fingers are long.

From that moment forward, you were irrevocably captivated by him. 

No doubt he was much older than you. It was obvious in his appearance, the way he carried himself, his cadence. This fact did nothing but fuel your fixation. And so, you began on your attempts at his attention.

That afternoon, a few hours after his arrival, Logan had settled back in. He was content with returning back to his room, a space that was uniquely his. He got to work at unpacking the duffel bag that he had brought with him. There was not much to put away since he packed light. Everything he needed could often be easily found wherever he found himself escaping to. His travels had left him exhausted though, and he craved a glass of whiskey.

Logan made his way down to the kitchen, where unbeknownst to him, you had been waiting, expecting this to be the place that you two would be likely to cross paths for the first time. When his large frame appeared in the entrance to the kitchen, your eyes fluttered up, this time taking in his appearance much closer. Your stake-out at the table, however boring, was worth it. 

He didn’t notice you right away. He moved swiftly to the bar, set on getting his drink. You watched as the tall, burly man located the whiskey and poured the amber liquid into a small glass. The proportion of his hands around the drink really put it into perspective just how large he was. How much larger than you he was.

You had to get his attention before he retreated back to his room. Sure, you may have spared the dignity to sit and wait for him to coincidentally walk into the kitchen, but following him? Too much.

“Hey.”

Your voiced appeared suddenly from behind him and caused him to slam his glass against the counter. He whipped around to see you, sitting at the table, arms folded across the wood in front of you. 

“Shit, kid, can’t just sneak up on me like that,” he cursed. His fingers flew to the bridge of his nose and pinched it.

His use of the word ‘kid’ to address you should have annoyed you, but had the opposite effect. It reinforced that tempting age gap between the two of you.

“Sorry,” you apologized with a sheepish grin. “Logan, right?”

You had to play it off cool, casual, as if you didn’t know exactly who he was.

“That’s me.” He took a swig of his whiskey, the familiar burn against his throat soothing him from the surprise you just gave him. “Haven’t seen you around before,” he said after swallowing. “You are..?”

You introduced yourself. “I started here after you left. Heard a lot about you, though.”

“Oh, yeah?” Logan tilted his head and cocked an eyebrow. “Good things, I hope.”

You could tell he was more relaxed now, analyzing the way he leaned back against the counter, one hand propped behind him, the other holding his glass. “For sure. Heard all about your mutation. Pretty scary,” you said with a gesture to his hands. “But cool.”

As much as you were checking him out, Logan also examined you subtly, without you noticing. You looked young. Hell, a lot younger than him. But he could tell by the way you radiated comfort where you were that you were at least a couple years graduated. Most of the kids enrolled in classes were hesitant, not yet confident in their place at the mansion.

“Do they hurt?”

Your question brought him out of his thoughts. He nodded with his lips pressed to his glass again, setting it down as he finished it off. “Definitely took some getting used to.”

You were surprised at how casual he was. You didn’t really have an idea of how he was in person, but this wasn’t exactly what you expected. 

He caught you staring, noticing the slight look of confusion etched on your face. “Kid?,” he prompted. There it was, that nickname again.

“Shit, sorry. You’re just different than how I pictured you.”

A look of amusement appeared on Logan’s face. “Pictured me, huh?”

His words almost sounded suggestive. Was that how he meant to come across? Whatever the intention, you continued. 

“Kinda got the idea you were mean and scary,” you said in a teasing manner. “But you’re actually not too bad.”

“Mean and scary,” he repeated your words with a chuckle. “I guess there’s a time and place for that.”

His reciprocated banter made your confidence grow. He watched you carefully as you stood up from the table, closing the distance between the two of you and settling beside him against the counter. You reached for his hand that was placed against the cool countertop behind him, brushing your fingers against his knuckles. The difference between the sizes of your hands made your stomach turn. “Can you show me?,” your question insinuating his sheathed claws.

Logan was aware of the game you were playing now. His heightened sense of smell picked up the soft, aroused heat that now radiated off of you. The smell wafted up his nose and his grip on the countertop tightened below your hand that now rested on his. Your touch on his hand, your advancement, it turned him on in a way that made him feel almost perverted. You were so young, your experience had to be almost nothing compared to his. He had years- no, centuries on you. This was wrong. It was his job to stop it before it escalated. If someone were to walk in on the two of you right now, he could only imagine what they would think. 

Coming into his senses, Logan shifted away from you, reestablishing distance between your bodies. His hand slid out from under yours. 

“Another time,” he said, focusing his attention on turning to the sink and rinsing out his whiskey glass.

His change in demeanor puzzled you. You stared at his back, his muscles flexing underneath the white tank he was wearing as he placed the clean glass back into the cupboard above him. You wondered why his tone changed so suddenly. You pushed. ���C’mon, just-“

“It’s getting late,” he interrupted you, now moving towards the hall to exit before this could go further. Before he let this go further. There was a tinge of annoyance lacing his words. “I’m heading to bed, and you should too.” 

His exit was abrupt, leaving you standing alone in the kitchen, replaying the interaction. You tried to understand his switch. If Logan was hesitant to make a move on you because of the gap between your ages, you were determined to convince him otherwise, show him that you yearned for a man like him. Someone who could really take care of you.

◆:*:◇:*:◆:*:◇:*:◆

The next day passed with no sign of Logan around the mansion. You had even repeated your camp out in the kitchen for a little while, but left only further disappointed when he never showed. At some point, you retreated to your room and took a nap out of pure boredom. This ‘nap’ turned into a 4 hour slumber that you awoke from feeling disoriented and groggy, surprised to see that the clock on your nightstand read 11:47 P.M. You forced yourself out of bed and into a change of comfier clothes than what you had fallen asleep in, and headed downstairs to the lounge for a change of scenery.

Expecting it to be empty because of the late hour, you were more than pleasantly surprised to see Logan sitting in one of the leather recliners, his arm draped lazily over the side with a half-smoked cigar dangling between his fingers. You paused in the doorway for a second as his attention was drawn to you.

“What’re you doing up?”

His question almost seemed accusatory. He narrowed his eyes at your shirt, some band he had never heard of. The collar was stretched and hung off one shoulder, revealing your prominent collarbone and bare neck. His eyes dragged slowly down your torso to your exposed legs. The shorts you were wearing were covered by the excessive length of the t-shirt. Were you even wearing shorts? Underwear? Wonder what color underwear. Logan’s mind clouded with questions that forced his gaze to the fireplace crackling in front of him, distracting himself with a long drag of his cigar.

You noticed the way he examined you. His prolonged stare, the way his eyes fell down, and then away in realization of his obvious staring. 

“Just woke up from a nap,” you admitted. 

His body tensed as you finally made your way in and sat on one of the couches next to him. “What are you doing up?”

He blew out one last trail of smoke and then put his cigar out on the ashtray that sat on the table in-between the couches you sat on. “Was just leaving.”

Logan’s rushed attempt at escape made you furrow your brow. You couldn’t let him slip away like he did the other night. 

“What’s with you?,” you confronted him. His face wrinkled, a look that portrayed his shock that you would question him like that. “Whad’ya mean ‘what’s with you’?,” he shot back. You rolled your eyes as you gestured to him, standing up and trying to make a break for the door. 

“You acted just fine yesterday, and now you’re being all stand-offish and weird.”

God, the nerve of this kid, he thought to himself. Logan was always astonished with the younger generation not having a problem speaking their mind. Instead of letting him answer, you pushed it yet again. “Can’t help but think I make you nervous.”

“Nervous? The fuck do you mean nervous?,” he spat, offended. His chest heaved underneath his snug black shirt. You stood up as a way to try and level with him. This was a silly move, because he still towered over your much smaller figure.

“I think,” you started, words insinuating, “that you don’t know what do with a girl, so much younger than you, hitting on you.”

Your blatant admittance of the situation made his eyes widen, momentarily stunned. He quickly regained his conscious and scoffed, still dancing around the accusation you just threw at him. “First off, you don’t make me nervous,” Logan said, staring down at you with his eyes slightly squinted in annoyance. “And second, kid, I know what I’m doing.”

His words were sharp, biting. His attempt to diminish you with youthful nicknames was mute. You took it as a challenge, and the insult went straight to your core, causing a wet pool to form between your legs.

“Doesn’t seem like it,” you snipped. 

He pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut and exhaled. “You’re too young.”

There it was. You had finally gotten him to voice his concern, the reason he had given you the cold shoulder.

“I’m an adult, Logan,” you said with a step forward, that gap between you getting smaller. His breath hitched in his throat at your new advancement. “You can argue with me all you want, but the bulge in you pants is very condescending.” Your eyes flicked down to his crotch and then back up to his, a playful ‘gotcha’ smirk now on your lips.

He was now fully aware of the growing hard-on against his thigh and choked on the breath he had just inhaled. You swear you could hear him mutter a ‘fuck’ under his breath. He wanted to give in, he wanted to throw you on the couch and take you right there, but he was still held back by some guilty conscious in his mind, convinced he was too old for a girl like you. “I’m too old for you, kid.” A final attempt at calling your bluff, seeing if you would suddenly realize your desire to get with him was just a silly fantasy. You could sense his guard coming down. 

“Am I gonna have to make a move on you first?”

Logan’s eyes narrowed in on yours and his lips pursed together. Your question was not answered with words, but with a tempting look, like he was daring you to act on your words. 

With one more step, you closed the gap between your bodies, a hand running up one of his muscular arms. You leaned up slightly on your tip-toes, your height difference still separating you from his lips. He didn’t move, expecting you to back out at any second, needing more reassurance that this is what you wanted.

Your hand found his shoulder, using it as leverage to lift yourself to meet his lips. They brushed softly and Logan struggled to maintain his self control. You felt a shaky breath escape his mouth and tickle yours. When he didn’t pull away, you pressed your lips firmly to his. This was the confirmation he needed and he gave in. 

His hands left their previous spot, frozen by his sides, and twisted around your back. He gripped your waist with his hands, pulling you tight against him. God, it felt so wrong, a woman as young as you wanting a man so far in age. His grip tightened and his tongue forced it’s way through your parted lips, running over your teeth and against your own tongue. When he felt a hand caress the bulge in his pants, he groaned into your mouth, the sound muffled by the fiery kiss. This felt so taboo. And maybe, that’s what he liked so much about it. 

Logan’s mouth left yours but quickly found your jaw, kissing it and licking a stripe all the way up to the spot just below your ear. He planted another sloppy kiss here before whispering, “my room?”

His invitation fueled the fire in your groin and you nodded desperately. “Yes, yes please,” you managed to gasp. 

The tall, burly man swooped you up in his arms with ease, your legs wrapping around his waist. He hoisted you up against him and you could feel his hard-on throbbing against your aching cunt. The contact made you grind your hips into him as he carried you to his room with urgent speed. You kissed his neck, his beard tickling your skin. The smell of whiskey and cigar smoke clouded your senses, paired with an underlying musk that was unique to only Logan.

One of Logan’s hands, still holding onto you, grabbed the door handle to his room and twisted it, kicking it all the way open with his boot. Once he spun the two of you inside, he rushed to kick it closed again. His room smelled even more like him. 

He found your lips again in desperation as he leaned down and placed you gently on his bed. He remained on the floor in front of you, kneeling slightly to trail kisses down your neck. One of his hands slid up your bare leg, creeping up your thigh until he was met with the hem of your way-too-short shorts.

“Wore these to get my attention, Bub?,” he muttered against your neck in-between wet kisses. He zoned in on one spot and sucked the soft skin between his teeth, a maroon bruise forming under his lips. You inhaled a sharp breath. “Walking around here in practically nothing, that’s how bad you wanted this?” His voice was carnal, a seductive growl.

“God, yes, so bad.” Your words were incoherent, your inability to form a complete sentence showing how much of a mess Logan had you already.

His curious hand continued it’s trek over your shorts, fingers curling under the waist band and tugging slightly. He waited for you to object, and when there was none, he pulled them down to where they pooled around your ankles. You hurriedly kicked them off to the floor next to him. Logan pulled back from your neck and took in the sight between your legs, the pair of lacy red panties that were damp with your arousal. You felt your face heat up as he drank you in. “Goddamn.”

He drew in a long breath through his nose to inhale your heated scent. He fell to his knees between your legs and began planting kisses against your thighs, inching up towards your center. “Logan, please,” you whimpered above him, entranced by the image of him between your legs. 

His eyes flicked up to meet yours as he placed a kiss against the fabric of your underwear. “You want this?”

“I want this so bad.”

Logan’s intense gaze never left yours as he pulled your panties to the side and let out a hot breath against your soaking wet core. “Holy shit doll,” he exclaimed at your arousal. Your bottom lip quivered with anticipation. 

When his lips made contact with your swollen clit, you threw your head back and moaned his name. Hearing his name on your lips sent waves of pleasure through his own body. Swiftly, he pulled your panties down and threw them to join your shorts on the floor. He reconnected with your clit quickly and sucked on it gently. You hissed through clenched teeth and your hand flew to the back of his head, gripping his hair in your fingers for support.

Logan’s hands found their way to your thighs and grabbed them, forcing them to stay apart for him despite your body’s instinct to close them due to the overwhelming feeling of pleasure between them. He licked a long, wet stripe up your folds back to your clit and lapped at it hungrily. Each flick of his tongue made your insides boil with arousal. His fingers dug into the soft, pillowy skin of your thighs and you were sure they were to leave bruises, a reminder of who was between them.

“Y’taste so good, sweetheart,” Logan mumbled against your pussy. The vibration of his words against you made goosebumps raise all over your body. 

“Wanted you so bad,” you rambled, “knew you could take care of me.”

“Is that right?”

His teasing remark made you clench around nothing. 

One of his calloused fingers traced intricate circles on the inside of your thigh, trailing down sensually before gliding back up. You felt his finger continue to dance softly around your upper thigh before you recognized the pattern. He was spelling out letters on your skin. 

‘M-I-N-E’

That act of claiming you, the writing it against your thigh, it made your stomach flip. “Oh my god,” you whispered.

Just when you thought you couldn’t take anymore, his fingers that were just marking claim on your thigh found their way to your dripping pussy. One finger circled slowly around your entrance, the natural lubricant you had produced letting it slip inside. You gasped and arched your back towards the ceiling. “Fuck, Logan!”

His lips still working at your clit, he began pumping his finger in and out of you. “Feel good?,” he asked in a hushed, gravelly voice. You answered an immediate yes, wanting more. He sensed your craving and slipped a second finger in, earning a content sigh from you. 

Logan’s long fingers curled inside of you and brushed against the soft, spongy spot that made you cry out his name, along with other incoherent profanities. When he felt you began to clench around him, your hips bucking up off of his bed, he pulled his fingers out slowly. The emptiness from where he once occupied made you ache. You sat up, disappointed. “Logan-“

“I wanna feel you cum around my cock,” he interrupted. You watched in awe as he stood up, biceps flexing as he unhooked the belt around his waist. He slipped it through the loops of his jeans and let it fall to the floor. Your jaw dropped when he grabbed at the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head. His body was even better than you could ever possibly imagine. The definition of each of his abdominal muscles, toned and glistening. Your eyes followed the trail of dark hair that lead down under his jeans. Logan caught your shocked look. 

“Wait, kid, have you never-“

“Fuck, Logan, I’m not a virgin!” You almost laughed in surprise at his accusation.

“Y’sure?,” he cocked an eyebrow at you. “Cause you look lost.”

Your lips tilted in a downward smile, cheeks growing red. “I’m not a virgin. Just never been with anyone like you.”

His gaze softened and he shot you a small smile. “Ah,” he proclaimed. It was like he was self-aware of how perfect he was, you thought. “You wanna do this?”

You couldn’t believe he was asking again. “Trust me Logan,” you said slowly as you leaned forward, hands finding the button of his jeans. “I really wanna do this.”

His head fell back with a groan as you began pulling the zipper of his pants down, revealing the top of his boxers. You pulled them down to his thighs as he stepped out of his boots with a sharp stomp on the heel of each one. Once they were off, he let his jeans fall to his ankles and kicked them off to the side with the rest of your clothes. You tried not to show your astonishment at the size of his bulge, now even more prominent, tight against his thin boxers. 

‘How is that ever gonna fit inside of me?’

Logan smirked slightly at the look on your face and pulled down the last article of clothing that was separating him and nudity. 

You bit your lip as his cock sprung free, taking in the sight of it. It was fully erect, a single vein running along the underside where it met his soft pink tip that was leaking with pre-cum. Realizing that he was now fully nude, you pulled your shirt off slowly and let it fall off the bed. His eyes immediately dropped to your tits and his cock throbbed with need. His gaze swept up and down your whole body. “Fucking beautiful, sweetheart.”

His praise made you realize again how empty you felt without him inside of you. “I want you inside of me, Logan.”

He took his hard cock in his hand and pumped it softly, more pre-cum beading at the tip. “Lay down for me.”

You did exactly as he said and scooted up to the top of his bed, laying down with your head resting against his pillows. You could smell him even stronger here, the spot he sleeps every night. His scent flooded your senses and your eyes fluttered shut for a second, basking in it. You barely even noticed he was crawling atop of you until his hands were planted on either side of your head and his lips were back on your neck. Being caged underneath his much larger figure like this made you melt, a rag doll lying beneath him.

Logan nipped softly under your jaw, his sharp canines sending shock through your body. “Ready, Bub?,” he drawled against your skin. You nodded against the top of his head, your chest rising and falling with his.

He propped himself up above you with one muscular arm, the other moving to grip his cock and fix it against your entrance. You were practically leaking just at that. Your legs spread apart even further subconsciously, giving him more access. Both of your eyes were fixated on his cock as he began pushing inside of you, painfully slow. You gasped as you felt your walls stretch to accommodate him. A low groan fell from his lips as he continued pushing himself in, until he was halfway disappeared within your cunt. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered in his scratchy voice. 

Your hand snaked around the back of his neck, fingers brushing the hair at the nape of his neck. “I want all of you Logan, please,” you begged. He brought his hand that was wrapped around his cock back up to it’s spot beside your head. “I wanna give it all to you.”

You grabbed a fistful of his hair and pulled as you felt him pushing all the way inside of you, just what you had asked for. He bottomed out inside of you just as you felt the tip of his cock press against the spot that his fingers had just been curling into. “Oh my god, you’re so fucking big.”

His cock twitched at your words and he pulled out slowly before sheathing himself back inside you, warming you up to his thrusts. “So tight,” he grunted. You bucked your hips up into him, desperate for more. You knew how much he had to offer. As if reading your mind, Logan began building up to a steady pace, his thrusts making you rock against the bed frame. He watched as your breasts bounced softly with each thrust. His hands gripped the pillow next to your head and an animalistic sound built up in his throat- a growl.

“This what you wanted?,” he asked as his pace quickened. “Someone older who could fuck you right?”

His words went straight to your core where he was pounding into you. “Yes, fuck,” you gasped with a particularly deep thrust, “exactly what I wanted.” Your other hand flew to his back and you dug your nails in, leaving dark red marks that quickly healed over due to his regenerative cells. A guttural moan left him and he lifted one of your legs over his hip, pounding even deeper into your cunt. A sudden pressure on your clit made you realize his thumb was rubbing circles around it, increasing the pleasure. You were practically seeing stars at this point. 

The pressure in your stomach built up and you could feel that familiar knot begin to tighten, threatening to release at any moment. Logan felt you clench around his cock and sensed your nearing orgasm. “Finish for me baby, wanna feel you cum around my cock,” he coaxed. His pleading words made you squirm beneath him, now not even sure what words were leaving your mouth. 

With a deep, calculated thrust, you came undone around him. Your back arched up, tits pressing up against his firm chest. He continued his thrusts, praising you and brushing a thumb over your cheek. “Good girl, such a good fucking girl,” he said gingerly. “Look so pretty cumming around my cock.”

Your tightened grip around his cock as you came made him lose control of his steady pace, thrusts becoming quicker and more urgent. As you rode out your orgasm, he began to chase his. “Fuck, stay just like that,” he commanded while he worked towards his climax. Your body buzzed with overstimulation, but you took each thrust, eager to please. You thrust your hips up against his and he cursed, your compliancy sending him over the edge. “Where do you want-,” 

“Inside. Cum inside of me.”

Logan moaned, the sound bordering on a whine as he spilled himself inside of you, each last thrust forcing his cum deeper inside of your pussy. You pulled his body down against yours, craving the closeness as he finished. With one final thrust, his cum dripping outside of you and down onto the bed, he let out a long groan and let his head collapse against your chest. 

“That was the best anybody has ever fucked me.”

Your sudden, slurred words made Logan chuckle. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He placed a soft kiss in-between your breasts before pushing himself off the bed, going to grab a towel from his bathroom. He came back and parted your legs gently, cleaning you up with such care that made you wanna stay here, in his bed with him, forever. “Trust me, it can get better.” His eyes met yours from between your legs, still cleaning the mess the two of you had made. Your stomach fluttered. The insinuation that this was just the first time between you and him. That there would be more.

“I guess we’ll just have to see.”

Logan smiled at you before getting up once more to throw the towel into the bathroom and grab a shirt from his dresser. He crawled back into the bed next to you and lifted your arms up, sliding his shirt over your body. “Thanks,” you said softly, the fluttering feeling returning in your stomach.

“Course, Bub.” He pulled you into his arms as he laid down, nestling his head into the back of your neck.

[rafesangelita]

for latina!kook!reader can you write her being new to the island and rafe always hears people talk about the new girl and he dosent think anything of it until he actually sees her and she’s this latina goddess and rafe swears he’s never seen a more beautiful woman and he instantly knows he has to have her?please and thank you i love your fics!!💘💘

also maybe this is kind of inspired by the song “sensacion del bloque” so maybe you can base it off that song🙈

only if you want of course!! no pressure<3

warnings: stalker!rafe (lol), spanish wording but it’s translated!

a/n: i was obsessed with this song when i was little omg!! i’m so happy you love my fics anon <333

“what’s all the fuss about this new girl on the island?” rafe took a swig from his beer, drawing both topper and kelce’s attention almost immediately. “for starters, she’s like insanely pretty,” kelce started, “i don’t know her name, but she’s already running around figure eight with the socialites.” he raised his eyebrows as topper butted in. “i heard she speaks spanish,” he added, “where do you think she’s from?” topper and kelce started throwing out names of different countries while rafe started forming his own thoughts.

people moved to and from the island all the time, so while rafe didn’t think much of the whole ‘new girl’ thing, he couldn’t help but wonder what it was about you that had literally everyone talking. all he knew was that you were attractive and could speak another language. he heard some guys at the country club raving about you the day before, and now his friends. was it the way you dressed? your hair? the way you walked? he needed to find out now.

“do you know where i could find her?” rafe interrupted kelce and topper mid argument. “uhm.. i don’t know? remember that house for sale right there by the shore? i think that’s the one she moved into.” topper looked confused as rafe stood up. “where are you going?” he followed him outside. “i have to see what the hype is about, man.” rafe was already in his truck before topper yelled out a ‘can i go too?!’

rafe felt like a stalker going over to your house. he wasn’t going to get off or anything.. he just parked across the street and staked the place out as if he was playing detective. apart of him felt ridiculous for doing this in the first place. here he was, waiting to just catch a glimpse of you. “what the fuck am i doing?” he cursed to himself. just as he was about to turn the engine back on, you emerged from the front door.

“te estaré esperando en el frente— i’ll be waiting for you in the front.” you chirped into your phone. rafe heard you before he saw you, the sight stealing all the breath from his lungs. you were dressed up in a tight, embellished, mini dress, your hair and makeup done to the gods while your butterfly heels sparkled under the setting sun. your beauty was otherworldly, and rafe couldn’t take his eyes off.

rafe was always the one to denounce something as ‘overhyped’ but he felt like the entire island talking about and praising you just wasn’t enough. you needed your own billboard. oblivious to the fact that you had looked up at him from your spot in the driveway, he closed his mouth as you smiled at him, your perfectly manicured fingers sending him a flirty wave. that was the cherry on top. rafe had gotten down and was about to approach you before a car full of girls drove up.

you walked down the pavement, the purse on your shoulder swaying with your hips as you looked up at him. “tal vez la próxima vez— maybe next time.” you laughed, getting in the car before he watched you disappear at the end of street.

[ohisms]

↪ 𝑽𝑨𝑵 𝑯𝑬𝑳𝑺𝑰𝑵𝑮 . ( a collection of sentence starters from the 2004 film . adjust phrasing as necessary . mature themes present . )

oh , [ name ] . it's just you .

where are you going to run , [ name ] ?

what are you saying ?

why do you think i brought you here ?

you said you believed in my work .

i would kill myself before helping in such a task .

you've been so kind to me , [ name ] .

you can't kill me , [ name ] .

so , you're the great [ name ] .

we all have our little problems .

let's make it your decision , shall we ?

i wish you a week in hell .

why don't you do something about it ?

this is all a test of faith .

i can curse all i want , dammit .

you . turn around .

strangers don't last long here .

the laws of men mean little to me .

i don't need your help .

you stay here . they're trying to kill me .

nice to see you too , [ name ] .

did i do something to you in a past life ?

i hope you do have a heart , [ name ] . because someday i'd like to drive a stake through it .

your reputation precedes you .

i am hollow ! and i will live ... forever .

please , say you will not try again .

do not fear me ... everybody else fears me .

i was unprepared . it won't happen again .

do you understand forgiveness ?

i would rather die than help you .

don't be boring , everyone who says that always dies .

may he rest in peace .

how long has it been , 300 , 400 years ?

you don't remember , do you ?

what exactly is it i am to be remembering ?

it's no surprise you would know all about me .

we have such history , you and i .

have you ever wondered why you have such horrific nightmares ?

[ name ] , it's alright , i'm taking you home .

what , did you think we haven't tried everything before ?

no one knows how to kill [ name ] .

i could have used that information earlier .

would you like me to refresh your memory a little ?

allow me to ... reintroduce myself .

i think we've overstayed our welcome .

don't give me that look .

you were right . i'm sorry .

monster ? who's the monster here ? i have done nothing wrong !

look , there's still time .

you were right . i'm sorry .

do you have any family , [ name ] ?

if you value your lives , and the lives of your kin , you will kill me .

evil may have created it , may have left its mark on it , but evil does not rule it .

now you know why they call me a murderer .

oh my god ... you've been bitten .

so much trouble ... so much trouble .

now you will become that which you hunted so passionately . may others be as passionate in their hunting of you .

don't worry , god will forgive us .

how many commandments can we break in one day ?

oh my god , you should be terrified .

how does it feel to be a puppet on my string ?

neither of us has ever settled for half .

you make my skin crawl .

i'm not gonna like this , am i ?

one brief moment of pain , and we can be together forever .

you have no heartbeat .

you are nothing but damned bones , and damned souls .

well , that doesn't sound like a good thing .

we don't have a choice . just don't get killed .

you don't understand , it doesn't matter what happens to me .

god is not the only one that can create life .

you can't go until i say you can go , and i say you can go when you're dead !

you're supposed to die .

we are both part of the same great game , [ name ] , we just find ourselves on opposite sides of the board .

you are being used , [ name ] , as was i . but i escaped , so can you .

if you're going to kill someone , kill them . don't stand there talking about it .

all i want is life . the continuation of my kind .

some things are better left forgotten .

[wileys-russo]

high stakes II barça femeni

part of the pollito universe - based around codies request here

high stakes II barça femeni

"oye pollito. up for a challenge?" you swallowed your mouthful of water and met mapi's cheshire like grin with a curious quirk of your eyebrow. "what challenge?" you asked skeptically, hundreds of possibilities racing through your head all at once, some awful and others amusing.

"the crossbar of the little training goal. whoever hits it ten times first wins!" mapi flicked the football at her feet up and into her hand, tucking it under her arm and awaiting an answer. "no stakes?" you asked still cautious, a few of the other girls hovering nearby.

"loser does laps until they throw up!" cata suggested with a smirk, all of you already doused with sweat as the temperature was soaring today and you pulled a face.

"pollito is scared of throw up." jana snickered as you shot her a venomous glare and she just stuck her tongue out at you. "ohhh, sí. the dinner!" mapi remembered with a snap of her fingers and a sharp bark of laughter as your cheeks blushed red.

during one of your first nights out with the team you'd all gone for a celebratory after a rather large el classico win. after watching cata try to eat snails on a dare which she promptly spat back out onto the plate, it wasn't long before your own dinner was so good you enjoyed it a second time.

you weren't sure where it came from, what caused it, or when it started but ever since you were younger if someone so much as gagged, spat or god forbid threw up in front of you, it triggered that same reaction in you.

your mami and papi had called it a 'sympathetic stomach', your hermana called it disgusting and your older brothers just called it weekly entertainment.

thankfully you'd practically tackled vicky and bruna out of the way to get out of your seat, just making it to the bathroom in order to empty the content of your stomach onto the tiled floor, alexia bursting in a moment later and wincing at the sight.

of course ingrid arrived right after her and seeing the utter humiliation in your features and alexias woefully failing attempts to console you she took charge, sending the catalan to ward off anyone else from coming in while she helped you clean up.

however of course ingrid had told her girlfriend, la bocaza, and mapi promptly told...everyone else, at training the next morning. you were relentlessly teased for weeks and still now it would come up, though you'd learned to have a thick skin being the youngest of four.

your older brothers had done a particularly successful job of 'toughening you up' and despite your size you gave just as good as you got. so following on from the 'dinner incident' was also one of the first times the girls learned about your dark side, and your oh so dreaded list that nobody wanted to be on.

"cállate! i am not scared of throw up." you scowled, sending a withering glare to everyone who laughed. "vale. then those are the stakes, do you accept?" mapi challenged again with a sly smile, twirling the ball around on her finger as your eyes rolled.

"sí, you're on león."

~

"that is four for mapi and three for pollito!" cata called out, stood beside the small goal keeping score as you huffed and hiked up your training top to wipe the sweat from your brow, the early afternoon sun prickling uncomfortably at your skin.

both ingrid and alexia had already given you and mapi a mouthful about how this was a dumb idea and if either of you got sunburnt or heatstroke there would be no sympathy.

everyone knew they were bluffing.

"it has been almost an hour! how are you both so bad at this?" pina chimed in from where she and a few of the younger girls from the b team who'd trained with you all today sat watching.

the majority of the team had already headed inside, enjoying the aircon inside to cool off before you all had a final media session before you were dismissed to go home for the day.

"would you like to try claudia? or maybe we will change the challenge from hitting the crossbar to hitting your big forehead!" you snapped as cata doubled over laughing and mapi let out a chuckle beside you.

"such a short fuse. is the pequeña getting hot and grumpy?" the spaniard cooed pinching your cheek as you puffed air from your nose and promptly stomped on her foot.

"oye! watch it, if one of us gets injured we will never hear the end of it." the defender rubbed her foot where both of you had thankfully taken off your boots, playing barefoot due to the heat.

"then kick the ball and shut your mouth maría." you grunted, stepping back and gesturing she take her turn. "dios mío you are grumpy." mapi mumbled, whistling under her breath and taking a few steps back with a shake of her head.

you watched with baited breath as she wound up, surging forward and hitting the ball with a thump, eyes widening as it seemed right on target but just skimmed the top of the bar and you exhaled in relief.

"joder." mapi grumbled in annoyance at the close call, cata retrieving the ball and tossing it back to you as you trapped it at your feet. "don't miss pollito!" mapi jeered beside you as you blocked her out, squinting one eye and manifesting the ball would hit the bar.

and hit it it did. you let out a cheer and jumped up happily as the ball smacked off the bar and came rolling back toward mapi who groaned and jogged up to retrieve it.

"don't miss!" you mocked her earlier words as she pulled a face and shoved you, putting the ball down and licking her finger, holding it up into the air as if to test the wind direction making you smile but roll your eyes.

unfortunately it seemed it worked, as mapi kicked the ball with a little curl and it thumped against the bar causing you to crumple in defeat and the older girl pump her fists and do a little victory wiggle.

"oye! pollito still gets a kick, otherwise you had one more turn than her and that is unfair." vicky yelled out in your defence as you perked back up and sent her a grin, mapi immediately arguing thats not how it worked.

"is too!" "is not!" "you are only saying this because you got five!" "exactly. i won!" "not yet!"

a sharp whistle stopped your bickering, and right in time as you were a mere millisecond away from launching yourself at the older girl, the heat having you already irritable and on the edge.

"you idiotas are still going with this?" patri rolled her eyes, her and alexia appearing from inside with hands on hips. "get inside and get some water. both of you!" alexia warned as both you began to argue you were almost done and it was unfair if mapi won by default.

with a roll of her eyes and a click of her fingers patri gave up, pina and most of the younger girls following after her inside. "one more kick ale, por favor!" you begged, clasping your hands together and hitting her with the best hopeful puppy dog eyes you could manage.

and sure enough, she broke.

"bien. one more kick!" alexia warned with a sigh as mapi huffed and muttered something under her breath which you missed but her best friend didn't as she glared at her and you snatched the ball back.

"if pollito makes this then its sudden death, a tie break!" cata called as alexia opened her mouth to advise that was not what was agreed on but again with another look flashed her way she fell silent and crossed her arms over her chest.

"see the goal? it is just so so tiny pollito. like you!" mapi teased trying to throw you off as you ignored her, cata nodding at you encouragingly as you took a few steps back.

"so so small. no way you will hit it!" mapi continued, stood beside alexia now who shoved her with a warning look. "may as well give up now chica, save yourself the embarrassment." mapi shrugged, whining as alexia punched her in the arm but still you blocked them both out.

"miss. miss. miss. miss!" mapi chanted quietly as you charged forward and kicked the ball, perhaps with a little more anger and frustration than skill as it soared much too high and flew right over the goal.

"ha!" mapi cheered, but suddenly as the ball hurtled forward time seemed to slow, almost frozen as the groundskeeper zoomed past on his little buggy and at the near perfectly wrong time.

you couldn't have predicated what came next with all the time in the world to guess.

"mirar hacia fuera!" you cupped your hands around your mouth and yelled, wincing as the ball smacked the poor man right in the side of his face and he swerved.

your eyes near bugged out of your head as the series of unfortunate events continued, each second passing causing the situation to get worse and worse and worse.

as the groundskeeper swerved he almost hit some of the staff who was walking back toward the field, who all dove out of the way and promptly fell backwards into the safety fencing around the construction site where they were redoing the gym.

then, the disaster reached its peak.

the fence collapsing in on itself meant it fell backwards into the scaffolding around the new structure, knocking over several poles and ladders and sending four poor workers head over heels into a pile of dirt, curses ringing out all over the place as everyone watched with horror as the structure began to wobble.

you exhaled as it seemed to settle, the staff helping one another up as the groundskeeper sprinted over to help the workers. "that was close." you sighed, shoulders dropping with relief.

but no, you were wrong, now it reached its peak.

with an almighty clatter that surely could have been heard from the other side of the country the scaffolding collapsed, bodies diving out of the way as metal beams, poles and bolts all came raining down onto the ground below.

you couldn't breathe, couldn't move, as mapi fled the scene of the crime your eyes were as wide as plates and your feet were rooted into position as the yelling started.

then came the worst part, the all too familiar hands settling themselves on your shoulders as you felt her looming behind you and closed your eyes. "it was all mapi's idea?" you squeaked out as alexias grip tightened and her nails dug into your shoulders leaving small crescent moon dents in the tanned skin.

"lo siento mucho?" you laughed nervously, crying out in pain as alexia grabbed you by the ear and started to drag you over to the mess you'd made muttering angrily under her breath so only you could hear.

"you can kiss the video games, tu novia, tu amigas, sunshine, freedom...you can kiss all of goodbye! just you wait until we get home and your mami hears from me about this. pollito you are grounded for the next month! no, six months! no, a year!" and it was safe to say, what fate had in store for you now was much much worse than a few laps in the sun.

[robiinurheart33]

I’m obsessed with ghost being obsessed with soap.

The way he knows tidbits and fun facts about soap is just unparalleled to everyone despite ghost seeming unbothered. They go on missions together more than anyone else in the task force or god forbid, any other military they’re working with. As much as military life would like you to believe, there’s just as much waiting and planning than there is executing.

Soap is notoriously not patient. Ghost is, but only when it comes to work. Anything else he doesn’t have the time nor patience to deal with it. Unless it comes to Johnny. But no one will ever know that except for Ghost himself. But back to the point, they’re mainly on missions together and they stakeout together, they hide in itchy bushes for hours together, they stay in each other’s space, no matter if they want the other to or not. Soap cannot keep his yapper shut for the life of him and he’ll go stir crazy if he has to stay still for 2 whole hours. So he talks. Whispers, really so as to not give their position away. Ghost is a professional after all, he can split his concentration between the mission and Johnny. It’s endurance training. (Or whatever he tells himself anyways.)

Soap doesn’t mind the mindless talking if it helps him concentrate, and if Ghost doesn’t seem to be bothered then it’s all good. He knows that he isn’t actually actively listening, which is okay. He’s not offended, per se, but he feels an uncomfortable tightness in his chest whenever he looks back at Ghost as if it were an actual conversation to be met with nothing. Soap is a professional and damn good at his job at that, so he doesn’t let that bother him. (He doesn’t.)

One hazy night, Soap and Ghost (Ghost and Soap) are staking out a warehouse across the street, a bone-deep exhaustion hangs in the air as they both slump in their seats near the open windows. Cicadas make themselves known and the humidity doesn’t let down even in the night. Soap’s eyes are hazy, blinking ever so slowly and almost slipping shut for good a few times before he jolts himself awake.

“Go to sleep, Sargent.” Sargent. Ghost’s rough but tired voice cuts through his mind as he slides open his eyes again, not knowing they were closed in the first place. He rolls his head over to Ghost, where he’s sitting rigidly upright. To anyone, it would seem like he’s the picture of alertness, eyes trained out the window, posture perfect. But to Johnny, he can see that his fists are clenched too tight, his gun is still strapped to his side, and he hasn’t even taken a shower yet, when Johnny already has.

Guilt pangs softly in his chest, and he purses his lips in thought. Ghost wouldn’t take a shower now seeing that Soap was so tired. He would probably stay up the whole night staring out the window, sweat trickling uncomfortably down his back but still endure it for the opportunity for Soap to rest. He isn’t stupid, he knows there’s something between them that they can’t name, a connection that isn’t quite friends, but crosses the line of professionalism. Whether Ghost knows that or not is still up in the air for grabs. He pushes himself off the chair with a soft groan, sliding his bare feet over the wooden floors to the bathroom. He splashes cooling water on his face and rubs his eyes, blinking harshly. He stares at Soap in the mirror, and Johnny bristles a bit. He looks like pure shit. His eyes are bloodshot and tired, eye bags threatening to pull his eyelids closed, and he hasn’t shaved in quite a few days. Definitely not up to military regulation. He doesn’t bother to clock in the rest of himself now, wanting to focus more on Ghost than himself.

He walks back out to the shared living room, which is also their bedroom and kitchen, and behind Ghost’s chair. He bends down to swiftly unclip his vest off.

“Wha’ are you doing?” He doesn’t even sound annoyed, just tired.

“Gettin’ all this shite offa’ ya.” Soap doesn’t need to look to know that Ghost is probably even more tired than him. His Lieutenant with all the responsibilities under the sky, and no one to share that burden with.

The vest falls with a heavy thump on the ground and Johnny continues to clatter the remaining knives and guns onto the table, right beside their haphazardly placed maps for future ambushes. He pulls a knife from the sole of his boot, and Ghost huffs in amusement.

“Didn’t know you knew about that one, Johnny.” He’s Johnny now.

“I know everything about you.” It scares him a bit how it slips out that easily, but it scares him even more that he doesn’t take it back.

Ghost’s eyes bore into the side of his skull as he throws the rest of the equipment onto the table, keeping a gun in the pocket of his cotton pants. Johnny juts his chin towards the bathroom, arms akimbo.

“Go shower.” he doesn’t bother with a jab now, God knows they’re both off the table for that. It’s come to a point in the night where jokes lay to rest and honestly is the only thing left to say.

Ghost doesn’t look like he’s going to move and Johnny won’t blame him. He knows how hard it is to leave your post, how you scream at your body to move but nothing works. Nothing happens. Johnny’s eyes eventually hone in on Ghost’s eyes, trying to get a grip of what he’s feeling at the moment. Brown. It’s stupid, but Soap’s never been good with all the metaphorical side of describing things. Ghost’s eyes are brown. It’s brown. And it looks soft around the edges, calm and present, moving ever so slightly as he looks back at him. And they look at each other. And Johnny melts. He wants to melt and be safe in Ghost’s eyes and there’s nothing wrong now, there can never be anything wrong. How could it when the stars and the moon crafted them to orbit around each other so perfectly and intimately? And how could anything go wrong when this is the most right Johnny has ever felt in his life?

He feels his hand rise like silk, cupping Ghost’s cheek, like he’s done it so many times before. He hasn’t. Johnny’s not so sure what makes tonight different, or what changed, but he doesn’t want to question it. He’s not jinxing or screwing anything up this time. The cheekbone of the plastic skull digs into the palm of his hand and Ghost’s eyes droop. His thumb drags up and down, up and down right under his eye, not breaking the eye contact he has with Simon. He watches in real time as his eyes dilate and flutter, his head tipping forward, as if he could feel his touch over the plastic and the balaclava. Before Simon’s head could fall forward, eyes finally closing, Johnny grasps his face with both hands, murmuring.

“Hey, big guy. Not yet.” Simon’s eyes open again, looking up at him and Johnny wants to cry at how desperately he wants him to just relax right now, but he knows that if he isn’t completely safe and comfortable he’s be screaming awake 2 hours later.

“Shower.” He whispers. Ghost seems to snap back into reality slightly, standing up straight and towering over Johnny once more. Like this, his eyes seem black in the shadows, and things are jagged and sharp again. He grunts once, stepping out of their safe bubble and sliding into the bathroom, closing and locking the door with a click.

Johnny sighs softly as he sits down on Ghost’s seat, the wood still warm as he looks out the window. The gun burns where it’s pressed against his thigh, but maybe that’s just the absurd heat at the moment. His eyes are trained on the warehouse, leaning his elbows on his knees and letting his mind drift off for a bit. There’s no one in the warehouse at the moment, and any movement would be extremely obvious in the dead of night so he figured it would be okay.

Johnny thought of his family. He thought of the soft yearning he felt whenever he wanted to be small and tucked in his mother’s arms again. he thought of how accepted he felt if one of his older sisters threw an arm around his shoulder. He thought of his home back in Scotland, an empty living room with an aging woman who would spend the rest of her life waiting for children that were not guaranteed to come back. The sadness plagued his mind whenever he was alone, wishing he could come back as soon as possible to his home. To what? Put on the obnoxious military persona and acting as if he were immortal to not worry his family? He knows better than that. He knows he’s soft and pliable, that no matter how many muscles he builds, his body will always cave to a bullet. He knows his family will always worry and he can’t do anything about it.

Ghost steps out of the shower and Soap’s thoughts dissipate, head tilting in his direction. He’s swapped his hard skull mask for a clean balaclava, traditional hoodie and sweatpants. He looks…domestic, in a way. A too big man standing in a too small hallway, hunched over and fatigue evident. Love, Johnny realises, comes in many shapes and forms, but it all takes root in the same place.

Simon lumbers over to stand behind his chair, eyes boring down to meet his. Their positions have swapped now, Simon looking down while Johnny reaches up to meet his. Love is a gentle thing. Soap realises with a calmness that shouldn’t be there that he couldn’t pick between his family and Simon. His family meant the whole world to him, but Simon was his sunlight and his saviour. They floated in a nice limbo between everything, Simon and Johnny. Johnny and Simon. Love is a gentle thing.

“Go to sleep, Johnny. you’re tired.”

“You don’t kno’ that.” He’s slurring.

“I know everything about you.” The line is thrown back into his face, and Johnny’s eyes widen. He can feel the butterflies in his stomach, twisting in an exhilarating way. He swallows and watches Simon stare at his Adam’s apple bob up and down, eyes crinkling. Johnny’s a bit speechless, partly due to overwhelming fondness and partly due to his body screaming for a rest. Simon cares. He cares for Johnny. He thinks about him. He cares. He cares. He cares.

Love is a gentle thing.

“Aye.” John whispers.

All is right in the world, because Simon cares and his mother is at home waiting for him, and he is loved. Johnny is told to sleep, and so he will.

[aphroditesmoon]

'cause I love this curse on our house

clarisse la rue x fem!demigod!reader

summary: !THIS WAS A REQUEST THAT I ACCIDENTALLY DELETED! the requester wanted a fic about clarisse and reader breaking up after an argument, and after months apart from eachother, reader appears at the ares cabin at 3am because she couldn't sleep without clarisse.

warnings: sparring violence, angst, hurt/comfort, arguing, fluff at the end.

a/n: im sooo sorry I accidentally deleted ur request😭🙏 but I hope this is to your liking, and thank you for your kind words🩷🎀

wc: 3.1k

"I never learned to lose a fight, I never learned to grow upright. this is who we are."

-back to you, flowerface

----

Clarisse wondered to herself, on whether or not you'd come running to her if she were to stake this spear through her chest.

Surely, you would? Sensible, independant and stubborn you.

She knew it'd take more than some flowers and half assed apology to get you to speak to her again, and with that knowledge in her head, she isn't sure what that would mean for your relationship.

Clarisse La Rue would rather die than be caught begging for your forgiveness. She would also consider maiming herself as a last resort for any problem she's ever had.

But it has been 3 months, and everyone knows about the 3 months rule.

3 months into dating, 3 months after a breakup. And yet so far, neither of you have tried to "happy new years" your way into eachother's life again.

It is a painful observation for the girl to make. And it's more painful for her to admit that she is at least 40% in the wrong.

That is the thing about the two of you, you become abrasive everytime you're upset, and Clarisse becomes confrontational everytime she is upset. On a normal day, those traits are opposite.

The truth was, Clarisse knew deep down how flawed she is as a person, and as a lover. She is a fighter at heart.

And though she'll admit, she's one of the best out there, being the daughter of a literal war god, but sometimes it feels like that's all she's good for. Does she want to love? Yes. Does she know how to? Not really.

She loves the early hours with you before everybody wakes up, trying to convince you to stay longer in her bed before you sneak out to avoid being noticed.

She loves the intimacy of your hands instinctively intertwining in a cabin party where the music is too loud and people are brushing against you in almost every corner as they try to dance or make their way out, and no one is paying attention to how her thumb caresses your knuckles.

She loves your lips, and how they feel around her neck as you bury your head in the crook of it from behind.

And at one point in the past, she loved how easy it was to be with you. Not the deep connection or understanding, but the way you wouldn't hold it against her if she were to pretend she didn't hear say hi as you walked past her. And how you didn't mind sneaking into her bed after midnight and the darkness becomes the only witness of your loving glances and tight embraces.

But Clarisse was quick to realize later on. that she might want more than that with you. It all felt impossible. Her reputation, her need to always look the toughest and never having a visible weakspot that might be used against her in the future.

And exposing you as her Achilles' heel, would mean that everything she's worked so hard for would break down into pieces the moment the news is out.

Her father already views her as a mistake. Something that could never be his. And for that she's had to work twice as hard as any of her siblings, and still be the least worthy in his eyes.

Were you worth risking all of that? She doesn't know. She doesn't think she ever will, now that it's all over.

And what about you?

What part did you play in cutting down the fragile line of rope the two of you had stood on?

Well, you were strong, opiniated, and rational. So fucking rational that it pissed her off. While she was losing her mind watching you laughing and giggling in the corner by a tree with some random dude that looked like he was birthed by a rat hybrid during the end of year party being held in camp. You were completely fine with not being with her.

Of course she knew that whatever going on between you two was a secret, but why were you so fine with it? Are you not affected by her the way she is with you?

"I'm playing the game by your rules, this is what you wanted." You had snapped at her after she dragged you away from your boring date into a secluded part into the forest. "This isn't a game." She had blurted out in frustration.

"Isn't it? Whenever you want me, I'm there. Whenever you don't, it's like I've never existed." And you were right. This was what she wanted. Despite herself and her feelings, this was how she treated you.

"We know we're together, why does anyone else needs to know that?" Clarisse asked instead of telling you what she really wanted to.

"Are you ashamed of me, Clarisse?" She could not answer your question. I'm ashamed of myself. She thought.

Can't you see? You are the only person who's been patient enough to wait for me, to stay with me. But then I'm looking for you in every crowd just to see that you don't even notice my absence.

Oh fuck it, in the end of the day, it would've never worked. Her thoughts countered againts one another.

Clarisse La Rue was born angry, all she ever knew to be, is angry. Her shortcomings is her inability to be gentle with those she loves the most, her need to break and rip every sensitive soul that has ever pitied her enough to try and pull out that ancient rage holed up in her chest.

"You were nothing without me. I found you, I gave you something to care about, something to anchor yourself to. Cause gods, you act like you don't give a shit, but you care so much that you make yourself believe that you don't care about being tossed aside, like it doesn't hurt you when I don't look twice on your way in front of other people."

The way she looked at you as she spat each and every word onto your face, was worse than the things she had actually said.

You scoffed at her, even with tears in your eyes, you glared at her and laughed out bitterly, refusing to sob or break under her stare.

"You know what your problem is, Clarisse?" You asked, even with the cracks in your voice, her spine shivered. "Indulge me." She forced out.

"You are so miserable, that you can't stand to see anyone else that isn't. You just need me to be pissed and devestated so you could feel better about yourself. Cause Gods forbid if you don't view your self worth on how less everyone else is." Clarisse says nothing, she knew you weren't finished.

"But I don't need to fuck over anyone else's life to know that I'm good. I'm perfectly fucking fine. I was fine before you, and I'll- I'll be fine after you." And there it was. That was where it all came crashing down.

Clarisse bad one second to say fuck all, to cut down all the bullshit. To admit that for once in her life, she was tired of fighting, and she had no clue what she's doing.

But as she opened her mouth to say it all, something in the shadow of her ego had restrained her tongue from speaking at all.

And so you watched her close her lips tight, and grieved then apology she never gave, the girl she couldn’t be for you. And then you left.

Everyone steered clear from Clarisse's way, unsure of what was getting on her nerves, and not caring enough to want to know.

And that night became the last time the two of you have ever spoke to eachother.

"Clarisse." Her brother's voice snaps her out of her thoughts. He was in position with his spear.

"Aim for my chest, remember to move your feet like taught you." She instruced him, fixing her own stance. "Go."

The boy moves quickly, and just like she envisioned in her head for ten thousand times in the just a few minutes ago, her feet drags.and her hand slows down for a second- because all it took is a second for the spear to slash her chest, and slams her down on her back.

---

Growing up, you had always earned the title of the "easy" one. Compared to your step-siblings, you had caused the least problem, required the least attention, asked the least questions.

You always knew what to do. You took care of your siblings when your parent couldn't, you knew how to take care of them the way your parent would. You knew when to get things done before you were told to, you knew where the pills were whenever you weren't feeling where. And you knew which secrets were better kept to yourself.

That one doesn't need watching over, they'd say about you. Even as you're being sent over to camp quick enough before the monsters acended, you were still not worth being worried over.

Someone who takes care of others so well, sure knows how to take care of themselves, right? Right.

Of course you're self sufficient, of course even know, you know where to find medication before your sickness gets worse. Or course even now, you know just the right things to tell people so you'd be left alone.

That was the bright side of raising yourself and growing up in an environment that made you feel so alone, you get used to the silence as the company gets smaller and smaller.

But no one ever said that loneliness felt good, even as a person who's found comfort in it. Because the truth of it, is that it's the sinking feeling in your stomach that you get addicted to. It is the repetitive cycle of breaking down that feels like home, because that's the only constant thing that have prevailed in your life.

What Clarisse had given you, with her presence, her rare tenderness and welcoming touches, was something new that had altered your entire defense system. Hope. She had given you hope.

And as you stood in the house that fell all over you, surviving the damage just like you always do. You realised just how stupid you were to even think that this time it would be different.

The news of Clarisse's injury spread like wildfire. And after repressing your emotions for the longest time, you felt your chest tightening from a familiar feeling.

Clarisse have taken blows before, but never this bad, never this serious. You know that she'd heal in time, but it doesn't stop you from worrying.

How could she be so stupid and careless? Being slammed down by a younger sibling nonetheless. Even if she has no regard for her physical safety, she must have one for her pride.

She's never so easily distracted or foolish, this injury and including her little spear incident has been looked upon by others as a moment of weakness for her. They are starting to wonder if Clarisse was ever that competent in the first place, or if she has just been making it look like she is.

You tossed and turned on your bed. The sheets don't feel right against your skin. It must be the heat, you tell yourself. It must be the heat because it cannot be the deprivation of Clarisse's cold skin from yours.

Demigods do not medicate the same way mortals do, and yet without anyone knowing, you've been swallowing down melatonin almost every night to be able to fall asleep.

It's not easy to get, the last hidden stock of it from the medical room finished 3 nights ago. And if no one had noticed your sleeping problems before, they do now because of your visible under eye bags.

Your hands have been shaking, a side effect of mortal drugs. It has also been making you more jumpy, anxious.

The worst of it all is how all those symptoms only worsens your sleeping problems now. As if seasonal depression itself isn't bad enough, now you're capable of staying up all night revisiting old haunting memories.

It's easy to distract yourself in the day with all the training and learning to do.

But no one survives the cruel coldness that the night presents itself with. When your only friend is the empty ceiling staring back down at you, and the only kind of blanket you want are the ones that feels like her arms.

It was ironic, you still wanted her the way a kicked dog would still roll over if asked to.

You had left her with your head held up high. But only the gods know how low to the ground you'd kneel down to for her to look at you again the way she used to.

If she had wanted you more lenient, then she could've just asked. If she had needed you to need her more then you would've begged for her if she would've just told you.

Pushing aside the soft material of your blanket off of you, your feet barely makes a sound as you tiptoed to the door to exit your cabin.

You told yourself you don't really know where you're going. But you moved in the same way you had 3 months ago, the road is memorized, the pace is as similar, and the yearning is twice as strong.

The moom followed you from above, lightimg the way as you walked on the ground from the pavements to patches of grass.

When you found yourself in front of the Ares cabin, you truly asked yourself if you have even an ounce of shame or sense left in your head. The answer was none, all that lived inside of you was dread, ever growing. The last straw before the breaking.

The last chance that looks a little too late to be taking for.

And yet as you pull open the door ever so slightly the way you used to, you feel it being held static before a creaking noise could be made. And like memories you've seen flashing in your mind multiple times before, your eyes meet Clarisse's.

"What are you doing here?"

"What are you doing up?"

You spoke at the same time as her. Both of you looked as surprised as the other.

As you took in eachother's appearance, Clarisse looks at you expectedly, considering that you are the one who isn't at your cabin. "I...wanted to see you."

Her expression changes slightly, as if she wasn't expecting that answer.

"Weird hour to visit." She noted. "Weird hour to be up by the door after you're slashed on the chest by a spear."

The two of you stared at eachother in silence before you notice Clarisse's chest heaving as she breathed out a low sigh. "Do you want to come in?" She whispered out to you. You nod your head once and waited for her to move aside so you could be let in.

Naturally, your hand found hers. She clasped her fingers over yours without a question as the two of you walked towards her bed.

Sitting dowm side by side, you eye the outline of her face closely in the dark, some sort of relief is released in your chest. "How bad is the damage?" You asked slowly. You almost reached up to brush a strand of hair away from her face, but caught yourself.

"Could've been worse." Was her response.

"Does it hurt right now?" You inquired again. You hear her inhale sharply and wondered if breathing was hard for her. "Yeah."

"I'm sorry." You weren't sure what else to tell her. To know that she was in pain had hurt you as well, but a larger part of you did not really care for her injury. Only now do you realise how much being away from her have affected you.

Now, in much closer proximity, your breathing fans her skin, the back of her hand touching yours, and her eyes unmoving from yours, do you realise just how much you needed Clarisse La Rue.

"It doesn't hurt as much as having to watch you leave." She spoke those words in a hushed whisper, meant only for your ears. If only dhe has been a little louder. You would've been able to hear the halt in the back of her throat. "No?" You whispered back to her. "No."

"I wouldn't have left, if you would've just asked me to stay."

"I know. I know you would." She mutters it affectionately, the cold shoulder already gone. "I know you would...you've always been good to me."

You swallowed the lump in your throat and held your tears in. "Then why didn't you?"

Clarisse shrugged. "I'm never good to you."

You frowned at her reply, feeling a jolt of anger striking through you. "But you could be. Why won't you be good to me, Clarisse?" Water gathered in your eyes, your primise yo refrain from crying broken.

"I would give you anything. I would give you my life. Could you just be good to me, Clarisse?" You told yourself that you wouldn't ask this question again, no matter how much of a dog you feel like, you won't force her to give you a bone.

And so with a tear running down your cheek, you looked up at her pleadingly and thought, please, see me, want me, love me. Need me the way I need you.

Her forehead softly rests againts yours, and you hear her then, mumbling."I could be good. I could be good to you."

Her thumb finds the wet streak on your face and wipes it off. "I want to be good to you."

"Then do that. It's that easy." She shakes her head lightly, making your frown deepens. "I've had to be this person that everyone expects me to be, because of my father, and my siblings. Sometimes giving in, feels like it could be death itself. Sweet dreams before you wake up in hell. That's what it feels like trying to be the person you want me to be. Punishment worthy."

"But it isn't death, Clarisse. Not just because someone else thinks it should be.

- Not just because your father thinks so."

"I know." She answers with a more reassuring tone.

"I haven't been able to sleep without you." You tell her out of obligation. "I can tell." She joked, the both of you chuckled lightly.

Clarisse then crawled over her bed to lie down and tugged you by your sleeve to find your place in her embrace again.

Laying your head above the area her chest was struck on, her beating heart becomes your lullaby. You fell asleep soon after, with your legs tangled together under the covers. Whatever was to happen tomorrow, it wouldn't matter. Because the worst was over.

[piss-pumpkin]

🌲 see you next summer <3 🍂

(Older)dipper pines x reader, douce amere chapter 25 ~3.5k words Masterlist prev

Fuck. Fuck fuck fucking fuck. The last day. You half didn’t want to wake up. The bed in your aunts house left you with the same feeling of a hotel mattress, despite the fact that it was decorated with all items yours. You probably should have slept at the twins place. 

Summers been good. You should think about that Instead of the fact that you’d be leaving today. You did all you set out to, really. You’d had an adventure, you’d gotten your romance, there were world shattering stakes at play. And the ending was sweet. You’d said your happy birthdays your goodbyes were next. Shit, you still had to pack up. How could you have forgotten that? 

You sat up, and scanned the room. There was a lot of you in it. Your laptop was sitting with its bunched up cords on the side table, and your clothes hung out of the dresser and a few lied on the floor. Sighing, you kicked your feet off the bed. One last morning. Your fingers were locked clenched around the bedsheets. You had to let go to brush your teeth. 

Toothbrush was the first to get packed up. You slipped it into a plastic bag with the bristles still wet. Ugh. The bag felt heavier in your hand than it should have as you threw it in your suitcase, tucked under your shirts. 

Sighing, you knelt knees on hardwood floor beside the pile of laundry you hadn’t yet washed, and began to fold. Each article past you by as you fit it into the case. Your hands wanted to linger on each shirt or or shorts you’d worn on the good days. Like the pyjama shirt you had on when Dipper confessed, or the ones that knew the sheets of his bed better then they might your home blankets. Or the bathing suit you’d worn plenty to swim together. And despite yourself, you had to linger on the shirt you’d worn for days without realize, stuck on the kitchen floor while Dipper was left to figure out how to save you all. You weren’t sure you’d worn it since.

The bandage on your head from that week was almost ready to come off. And the side effects were better. You could have a clear head before school started if you were lucky. As much as the idea was nice, it was weird. Going back to school. People there don’t know your story. And they wouldn’t understand unless they saw it for themselves. Everyone else you knew missed whole chapters of your mythology, and there was no easy way to change that. Maybe that’s why you and your Gravity falls friends were like family sometimes. Because it they could understand. 

You scanned the room for what was left to pack. Your backpack in the corner was for easy access stuff: snacks, charger, laptop, anything you might want for the ride home. Heaving a sigh, you started to pile it in.

As your fingers brushed the inside fabric, you caught on papers. Oh. When you saw the names across their folded fronts, you knew. Your death notes, your letters. You blinked. What were you gonna do with those? They felt too raw to throw or give away. Maybe you’d keep them as a memento. 

The room was lacking character by the time you were done, and the person you became in the summer was locked up in your bags. God, it sucked. 

                                        …

The bus stop. The bus stop sucked. Being at the cusp of a drivers license meant you’d nearly escaped them. The ground was crisp as you walked with Susan, the grass already drying and yellowing with the heat and creeping autumn. You sighed. A few months ago, the bus stop was the first place you saw your best friends. Back then it was one of the first busses in, now you were going to wait for one of the last out. 

Every time you’d managed to say goodbye, it felt like it could be the last. Like you’d go home, and suddenly Gravity Falls and all its mysteries could be a fever dream, and you’d never find your way back. So far, you always had. But how could you be sure this time wouldn’t be the one where the illusion shattered?

You could do this. If you could survive this summer, you could survive its end. 

Between everything, it almost seemed like it never would end. In the best ways and the worst, kisses that could last a lifetime, and weeks that stretched into purgatory as you waited for death that wasn’t coming.  

The bus stop came into view, and the Pines family and friends were already there. No busses, though, so you had time. Your hand was shaking on the suitcase handle as you rolled it along. They were saying goodbye.

Aunt Susan, affectionately known as lazy Susan, put a hand on your shoulder to stop you. “Should we say goodbye now before you go off with your friends?” She asked with her halfway southern drawl. 

You pursed your lips, and nodded. She smiled, and wrapped you in a hug. “You’re a joy to live with, and a pain in the ass to try and take care of,” she said, brushing a few hairs out of the way of your head bandaid. “Thanks for helping out at the diner, and for keeping things… lively.”

You smiled as her big arms held you close. “Yeah… thanks for letting me stay with you,” you said. 

She laughed, letting you go after a few moments. “Please,” she snickered. “You’ll hafta thank that boy of yours for living there, too.”

You smiled at the grass, “yeah, I will.”

She nodded, and the two of you started to walk again. Until the Pines saw you and you started to speed walk, leaving your Aunt behind, and eventually when you got close, devolving into a jog and you ran for your friends. You rushed up, practically jumping at Dipper and Mabel, your suitcase falling behind you.

You launched into Dippers arms, and when you landed, almost knocking the air out from your lungs. Shit man, you had to say goodbye today. You wrapped your arms around him, burying your face into his sweater. “Dude,” you said, muffled by his chest. “Dude, oh my god.”

He squeezed you back almost enough to suffocate you, too. “I know, man,” he said, resting his head in your hair. The unspoken agreement was that no amount of time could ever be enough, probably. And even though the summer was great, a part of you regretted every moment you hadn’t spent clinging to him like a life raft. 

“I’m gonna miss you,” you said, maneuvering your face sideways to better speak.

He sighed, leaning his head on yours, “yeah.” 

Then you remembered there was also a bunch of other people around. Pulling only slightly away from Dipper, you pulled Mabel in, too, the trio you were. Her hand slapped your back as she wrapped an arm around you, and one around her brother. “I’ll keep you updated on literally everything embarrassing he does,” she said.

Dipper didn’t even complain. You snickered, “okay, well he better keep me up on all your shit, too, just so you know.”

”As usual,” he nodded. 

Mabel groaned, “Ugh, snitch. Hey, who’s gonna tattle on you, then Y/n, this street has to go three ways.”

”I’ll self snitch, I’ll eat that bullet.”

The three of you pulled back, and you looked at them both. You’d see pictures, but the next time you saw them in person, they’d probably look different. A year can change a lot, as short as it was in the long run. Nobody was ever quite the same coming back to Gravity falls after school ended. The best hope was that the people you changed into were just as close as the people you were before. 

You sighed. There were other goodbyes too. You looked at the Grunkles. You weren’t sure who taught Stan what dapping up was, but whatever. He wanted too. You dapped him up as he smiled sadly. And Ford tried and failed to do the same. 

“Thanks for, like, basically letting me live at your house,” you said, only somewhat awkwardly. 

Ford patted you on the shoulder, “it’s really nothing, Y/n, your basically family.”

”Yeah, what’s another mouth to feed, and a dent in my car,” Stan tried to complain, but he was still smiling, and occasionally glancing between you and the twins. 

Wendy and Dipper swapped hats, she plucked his off his head and wore it backwards with a little smirk. 

You saw Pacifica next. She was a little late, just approaching now. She seemed… fine. Better than the other day. You couldn’t help but to grin at her, and wrap her in a hug. And shake her side to side. 

“My number one bitch,” you laughed. 

She snickered, “I better be.” When you let go, she was still smiling at you, with a slight purse of the lips to hide the fact that she’ll miss you. “I’ll send you like, cool stuff… you know how it is.”

Daddys money was how it was. Even after supposedly becoming poor. But poor to a rich girl was still enough to shop a lot, and send you gifts when she saw something you’d like. “Thanks man,” you laughed. She really was nothing like her parents. 

“And tell you like, all the gossip I hear,” she added. “So when you come back, your caught up.”

You smiled, “you better.” Snickering, you shook your head, “I’ll dutifully do the same.” 

Mabel said her goodbyes to Candy and Grenda. Dipper said goodbye to Soos. Man, this sucked. A bus was starting to creep over the horizon, and you weren’t sure if it was yours or the twins. You weren’t sure which would be worse, actually, you leaving first or them. 

It seemed like most of it was all said. Sighing, you went back beside Dipper, and leaned heavy on his side. Without a moments hesitation he wrapped an arm around you and tried to pull you in closer. 

He sighed as the bus moved in. It was still too far to see the number, though. “Man, this sucks,” he complained. “I’ll see you next summer, I guess,” he said wistfully.

Well, that was like a stab in the chest. But that gave you an idea. See you next summer. The papers you wrote on your deathbed weighed heavy in your bag, and you had a good idea of what to do with… at least one of them.

“I have something for you, actually,” you said, slinging your bag off your shoulder and rifling through. Your hands landed on the golden letters, until you saw the one with his name on it.

You pulled it out, and passed it around your hands a moment. Too late to back out now, even if its contents were embarrassing. “Here,” you said, holding it out to him. 

His fingers brushed your as he grabbed it, and started to unfold it.

You cut him off, swatting your hand over his. “No, do that when I’m out of sight it’s too cringe,” you laughed, shaking your head. “And like, maybe don’t message me about it. But…” you pursed your lips, looking at the grass, leaning your cheek onto your shoulder. “I wrote it the day before my exorcism. Read it or don’t, but don’t tell me about it,” you laughed 

His eyes widened a moment, and he nodded, slipping it into his bag. “Uh, thank you,” he said quietly, with emotions unreadable. 

The bus was pulling up, and you sucked a breath in through your teeth. It was yours. You’d be the first to arrive, and the first to leave. 

You met Dippers eyes, and he sighed. The bus door was opening. And somebody must have gestured at the bus driver to give you a moment, because it didn’t pull away. 

Dipper sighed. “Well,” he said, glancing at the bus. “Guess I’ll see you later,” he smiled, “I love you,” and gently kissed your forehead where you bandage was, light enough as not to hurt you, hard enough to leave an impression. 

A crooked grin here on your lips, and you fought the urge to cover your face, which was probably blushing. “Cringe. Love you too, Dip,” you said, fighting to maintain eye contact. You gave him one last kiss, and grabbed your suitcase. 

You sighed at the busses stairs, and looked back. “Bye guys,” you waved, looking over your friends once more. 

They smiled. Pacifica waved, “Let me know when you get home.”

”Oh, us too,” Mabel said, elbowing her brother.

Dipper nodded, slightly blush on his cheeks, “bye Y/n.”

And then you were on a bus, going the opposite direction of Gravity falls, and on the first stretch of a journey far away from your friends. Into the… somewhat known, you supposed. 

                                           …

Dipper sat with his legs crossed on the bus. Mabel was already asleep beside him. He wanted to chide her, but it was already dark outside, the only light was the dim and blueish bus LEDs. He checked his phone. Almost midnight. They’d probably get home around one. 

He tried to look out the window, but it was hard not to see his own reflection.

He pursed his lips. Your words were echoing around in his brain. Read it or don’t. But don’t tell me about it. He snickered to himself. But the paper felt heavy in his bag. 

Sighing, he pulled it out. Just his name was written across the front, and the thought that you wrote it thinking it would be the last he read of you… he pursed his lips, and unfolded the paper.

Dear Dipshit

He smiled. 

I’m sorry. We just got done talking about what we’re gonna do with me and Bill and whatever as I’m writing this. You didn’t seem too happy about the idea. This all sucks, I know. I guess I’m a little glad that you care enough to argue for me though, that you weren’t so mad at me for… this whole thing that you’d be fine with the risk. Sorry I worry you so much. 

Dipper winced reading over the words. Of course he cares, he wanted to say. A part of him did begin to understand why you wouldn’t want him to message you about this though. The thought of you writing this, alone and thinking you were going to die…

Honestly, sorry about all of this. It was my mistake that landed us here, there’s a thousand things I could’ve done differently. Like, I could have told you about the statue, that would have been so easy. I could have told you about what he was saying in my head, I guess I thought it was my own thoughts. That seems so silly now, he was saying some weird shit. I could have told you “hey I shook hands with a rock” and even that would have been something. I guess that’s all over with now though, no use dwelling on it. Even if it’s hard to help myself. 

So sorry. Yeah. I should write about better stuff. 

Dipper fought the urge to text you and tell you it wasn’t your fault, reminding himself that he promised not too. But his chest tightening thinking of your guilt. Deep breaths. He told you. He told you after that it was a burden they all had to bare. 

This summer has been one of the best regardless of all this, I won’t lie. Like, deadass. We did a lot of cool stuff. Hanging out, monster hunting, scheming. I really liked the Fourth of July. Bet you can remember why lol. I feel sorta cringe writing that. Whatever, I’ll live. Or… heh. Jokes. 

Ugh, that was bad. He shook his head as he smiled. You were totally right though, that was a good night. He chose to think about that rather than your horrible dark jokes. 

Honestly, you’ve been great. Like, as long as I’ve known you. It’s weird, we’ve been friends since we were thirteen. I’m surprised our friendship survived the school years. I’m glad it did. 

He nodded along reading it, as if you were there next to him. 

I forget what made me like you. Well, no, bad phrasing. I know why I like you, but I forget what exactly did it, you know? Like, I wonder what the moment was for little fourteen year old me that made me go “yeah, this guy… this is the guy.” Honestly, I wish I did. 

I wonder what the moment was for you, too. Like what the fuck game did I have when we were thirteen that got you down bad for like, the next several years. Well I shouldn’t flatter myself too much, I guess, I don’t know if it was just a summer thing. I know we both dated other people during school. But still though, several summers. 

Dipper covered his mouth with his hand. Who he was hiding from, he wasn’t sure. Unfortunately, the memory was clear in his head. He didn’t believe in love at first sight, not even close, but he definitely had a crush on you after maybe five hangouts, however quick that was. It was after the two of you worked with Soos to catch Bigfoot. 

Oh god that totally reminds me: dating other people. When I dated that bitch I refuse to name, like, several times I basically just wished it was you. Like, he sucked so much, you know I’m not gonna get into it, and so much towards the end I thought about you. Like, how much nicer you are to me. Wow that felt super weird to admit. True though. 

Oh my god. Dipper wanted to hide in his hand. He could relate too much. Dating somebody else to try and get over you, he definitely screwed up, and so much just wished he could be done with his feelings, or just be with you instead. He tried to avoid thinking about that year, it was embarrassment and shame enough for his whole life. 

Dipper, I hate that as i write this, we haven’t even been dating that long. Like I know it feels like forever, to me at least, just cuz we’ve been friends so long, but we only got together like, this month. Isn’t that crazy? It feels crazy to me. 

There’s a lot I imagined we’d do together. Like, we’ve never spent a Valentine’s Day together, that feels like a thing most couples do, right? I don’t even like that holiday much, and I’m still lamenting that. Have I even seen you in winter? The only time we hung out not in the summer was that one spring break. Winter would be fun, I think. 

I love you, man. Like, for realsies. Sorry about everything. I’m glad you still like me, but I guess that means you’d be sadder if this doesn’t work out. Pros and cons to everything.

It’s been good. You’re one of my best friends in the world, and I wish there was more time. You’re sweet. Don’t forget me. 

Yours,

Y/n

Dipper smiled. His vision was a little blurry, and he stared at the ceiling with his pupils to try and stop himself from crying. You really thought that was going to be your goodbye, didn’t you. Well, it was a good one. 

Fuck. He glanced at Mabel, then back out the window. His face was a little red. His eyes drifted over the paper again as he skimmed through it once more. You wished that you’d had more time. And didn’t want him to forget.

As the lights of Piedmont drew closer, he thought; You’d have plenty time together. It had been a good summer, believe it or not. Just like the first one had been, despite the apocalypse. The world nearly ending seemed rather normal for an eventful summer. And how could he ever forget you? The idea seemed laughable. 

He tapped Mabel on the arm to rouse her, and she started to wipe her eyes as they got closer to home. Plenty of time. Whether it be next summer, or maybe spring break if he was lucky, you’d have plenty of time. He looked over your letter. Wendy’s hat was heavy on his head. Next year, he’d go back and trade again. He’d see his grunkles for the holidays. He would watch Soos’ terrible YouTube channel. He had the number for everyone else he cared about. 

Next summer, he’d have plenty more time. They got off the bus, hauling their bags behind them. His home always felt foreign after summer. There was a light on in the kitchen he could see. One of their parents must have been waiting for them to get home safe. 

He sighed, and they started for the door, Mabel following groggily behind. Next summer, plenty of time. Maybe sooner. Hopefully sooner. How would he survive this school year? Dipper shook his head on the doorstep. He was already counting the days until classes ended, and he could go back. Because right now, Gravity falls felt more like home than the suburbs. 

Next summer, he’d have plenty of time. 

★彡๑ end ๑★彡

Epilogue

Chat. Im free. Finally. HUGE THANKS TO ANYONE WHO EVER COMMENTED!!! You guys were sometimes the only reason I actually started to write. Huge motivator. I’m done with this summer, main story over now. It was a long summer. But I’m a sucker I’ll probs write an epilogue or two.

Anyway, I started this fic with like 1/4 of a plan and a dream and somehow it ended at a cohesive story an even 25 chapters.

Also I’m goofy im arospec, I Bounce back and forth between loving the idea of romance, and being completely repulsed by it, which makes it hard to write a y/n romance sometimes. I tried to power thru it, but I feel like it shows in how little they actually kiss or say “I love you” 😭 I just can’t stand that stuff sometimes. Hope it wasn’t too obvious.

Thanks so much for reading!

Taglist: @cipheress-to-k-pop @dead-esque @phobo-ss

[kalims]

ㅤhere is my husband

premise. just us casually staking a claim on our non-official husbands (for coupons)

featuring. all characters

content. alignment, fluff

ㅤthe flustered over thinkers

one who's unbearably confused because he doesn't recall a marriage taking place to wed the two of you at all, he's a little concerned though. he's sure he'd remember such an event? anything with the two of you is practically unforgettable to the fact that when he's in bed only thing he thinks about is you, and the lingering anticipation that he'll see you again in the morning.

besides this said... eventful morning. where you've both apparently upgraded in relationship without his knowledge he can say that he's struggling to hide his steaming ears, hoping you won't notice if he brings the cup of coffee to his face so the steam seems like it's from there.

confused? flustered? thanks for the input! here's your boyfriend husband. doesn't even ask you to explain even though he's twitching to ask you cause if he knows you then you're almost always up to no good, maybe this is one of your tricks but he won't try just for the thought that you're still 'married.' all marriage related things, even the color white is sending his mind into overwire :)

— | riddle, jack, deuce, azul, epel, silver

ㅤwe love flirts

ah yes, if we've got the flustered, confused husbands we also need to get our resident flirts who just gives you a side glance and plays along like he knows what game you're playing. absolutely no questions at all because you know he's gonna bring up the topic sooner or later with a tease, he just feels like he has to return the fluster you'd admittedly inflicted on him. (which is apparently by proclaiming you're both married now.)

don't be surprised if you're getting private messages online, or just random people coming up to you asking how you're married in... this golden age, was that even legal there? you're not sure but maybe because everyone was kind of casual about it.

doesn't matter whether you say you're just messing with him. oh, you're done? good for you but he isn't. he's calling you his spouse everywhere, a local restaurant, shop, stall. wherever you say, he claims he's just doing what you asked for the coupons but you've got an inkling he's just got a knack for calling you his lawfully wedded partner.

— | trey, cater, jade, rook, lilia, leona (partly), vil

ㅤlegally in denial

we have the awkward ones who partially accept their fates, the flirts who's living purpose is to get a rise of warmth in your face, and we have the legally in denial ones whom are trying so hard to deny everything you do. you guys are dating?! oh my god... you must be being threatened to do this, where's the culprit?! news flash, there isn't any but even when it's so clear they seem to find every single reason to convince themselves that there's something wrong.

like, please accept our love already. you already called them your husband in broad daylight, is that not enough of proof? what do you mean you're probably gonna divorce him... he doesn't mention the fact of you guys never marrying at all, just jumps in divorce...

sometimes you should punch a man for his self esteem, it must be a struggle trying to convince someone you like, that you indeed like them. crazy, right? he can't take this heart stopping gesture he's watched too many times but will gladly arrange a wedding in minecraft. just tell him you guys got married ever since he put his bed next to yours if he asks since when.

— | idia on his own

ㅤairheads who are simps

the classic group of guys, of which they all are just incredibly down bad for the lead who just so happens to be you! <4 in this case they're so in love that they wouldn't even question anything you say even if you mix up murder and a name in the same sentence! if you trip? oh no, no. it's clearly the fault of the ground, not to worry! he'll even get workers to reconstruct the entire thing.

and yes, he's either rich or has enough influence (if not through intimidation.) anyways, if they're mad because of a horrible day just walk in a room and then the dark cloud over their heads just floats away and is replaced by hearts in their eyes.

a prank? oh you're funny. what ever do you mean? you're both clearly married. he's got the papers right here *materializes one.* where did that even come from?! say it once, now you've planted something that won't go away in their heads and it's going to shift to reality one way or another :)

— | kalim, floyd, malleus, rook.

ㅤchill mister tsunderes

takes a deep breath* screeches* yeah that's pretty much it. the people (possibly pertaining to just one person, cause he almost always needs his own category.) who try to refuse your existing even if you just cough. keyword: try because even if you're dating them they're still struggling to wrap their head around the fact that they are dating you so maybe their coping mechanism is just refusing to admit you make their hearts go boom boom??

is completely torn whether to screech again (preferably not in his mind to release that pent up... feeling. some type of fluster that makes him wonder if he should have brought a pillow to yell into.) or just reject what you just said. somehow his mouth just doesn't cooperate and he has to look away from you because he's actually struggling to keep his sanity together.

giving himself pep talk, the fortitude that 'he doesn't like you', trying to rebuild that wall back up again but he learns that he apparently can't take it when you're both referred to a life bounded vow. not as in he despises is, though he believes he is. but rather because he'll probably combust on the spot by the sheer claim being said out loud.

— | main: sebek, leona, ace

ㅤdem smug bastards

the ones who just can't resist to crack a smirk when you casually introduce him as your husband, no wonder you insisted he wore the promise ring you had given him.. just to show him off? consider him impressed! this might be just one of his favorite memento of your shenanigans. either he already knows what you're up do (leona) or he's just enjoying the remnants of your embarrassed face as he plummets you with endless grins and teases (floyd)

he's your husband...? I mean true but you're mainly his spouse :) should you even regret having done anything in the first place for the coupons? don't ever. anything should be done for the discounts, even if your supposed husband starts parading everywhere and uses every opportunity that appears in random conversations or situations to just casually announce your lawfully wedded marriage.

what do you mean you're not married? I mean he's got all the evidence in his phone, you didn't think he'd pass up the opportunity to record you saying that phrase for nothing did you? it's a great moment to remember, especially when it's in the middle of the night and he can't help but pull up that recording just to listen to it on loop like an idiot.

— | leona, floyd, ruggie, jade?, lilia (perhaps, vil (also questionable)

ㅤwho are you talking to rn?

those who look embarrassed but you're betting most on your money that he's just awfully flustered + doesn't like the feeling just guessing from him avoiding your eyes like you're the entity from bird box. does he really think his hood can cover the entirety of his red ears? they're fooling absolutely no one with that fake cough, only thing you heard was the quiet choke when they processed your words.

tries to play it off by 'composing' themselves in front of you, even though their back is turned to you. the straightening of their shoulder usually implies that they think they're ready but you can't help but note that several parts of their body, if not all, collectively flinch at the sight of you. they dont say anything but they give you this... look.

like, narrowed eyes, their jaw is slightly turned away from you, *judges whole existence with a side eye* they can't believe they even have you as a partner but besides that they can't wrap their heads around the fact that such a stupid notion such as that actually had him doing cartwheels inside his head.

— | jamil deserves this, ruggie, jack, azul

ㅤwym didn't we already get married?

YOUR HONOR ITS THIS ONE. you're probably making him more confused than you are. because?? cue confused face. didn't you guys already get married like, a month ago? do you not see the ring on your finger? the matching one on his own finger? did you really not notice anything when he just casually takes you to the most ethereal, sacred place of briar valley and hands you the box containing the ring...? has he done it too subtly? well, he's underestimated humans once again...

to fae culture that was probably the most obvious thing ever. he didn't outright just decide he wanted to marry you, but you've probably done something that borders on a 'let's get married' proposal in his culture so that just prompted him to get to work ASAP, get his workers find the most grandest ring there is in his family heirloom.

if you take it. that just meant you're both FOR LIFERSSSSS. HENCE WHY HES SO CONFUSED WHEN YOU'RE CONFUSED THAT HES ACTING LIKE ITS NORMAL. I mean he's happy that you finally decided to call him his rightful title after a month but why are you so flabbergasted, child of man? what do you mean you're not married? just look at said sacred, ethereal place in briar valley. both your names are engraved there together, that's enough proof isn't it?

— | malleus

bonus <4

ㅤthe actual partner in crime

want to take it up a notch? just call the resident creator of forged documents, this is totally legal and free! just get on his good side and he will remain there forever, unchanging cause he loves you now. unless you somehow wrong him... it's actually very beneficial because he can do nearly anything for you without trouble so... wow you're married? why didn't you invite him :( oh you're not but you want to be? oh that's totally fine!

oh you want his help? he can't go against the law because of his coding system but.. it also says to help friends whenever he can and you're his best friend so :)) *casually prints out paper* don't worry he'll talk to some friends and it will be legal before you know it!

knowing his brother he's probably authorized to break the law so he had to code it himself before he gets too far... anyways congrats on your actual marriage 😊

— | ortho

note. this is a commissioned piece, do not post this anywhere else

[yuujispinkhair]

I usually see fics where Sukuna is 'the experienced one' and reader on the other hand is the shy one who never had those types of experiences before so Sukuna has to ""teach"" her how to do it.

However, as Sukuna canonically has never experienced love and attachment to someone in his life, what if he's the one who needs to learn?

What if it's Sukuna who finds himself trembling when he and reader are going to kiss

What if he finds himself ashamed when he wants to go further with reader but doesn't know how to do it because he has never done it so it's reader who softly shows and explains to him how to do it?

I love to imagine and write Sukuna as someone who is experienced when it comes to sex but completely inexperienced when it comes to love.

Modern!Sukuna is used to casual, little flings that mean nothing. Trueform/King of Curses Sukuna is used to admirers throwing themselves at him, begging for a night with him, or people bringing him their daughters to sacrifice their virginity to him in exchange for his blessings. And Sukuna lets himself indulge in those desires of the flesh. He takes what he wants and selfishly uses those strangers' bodies for his own pleasure. Oftentimes, he doesn't even ask for their names or forgets them again because he simply doesn't care.

Sex is easy for Sukuna. But what absolutely terrifies him is when his heart and his stomach feel so strange anytime you are near him and smile at him and treat him with so much affection and love. It scares Sukuna out of his mind that you mean something to him. The thought of losing you makes him almost sick with worry. He fears it would destroy him.

And he catches himself being reluctant to go further. For the first time in his life, he doesn't want to fuck, but wants to make love. But it is a concept so new and strange to him that it scares him. He doesn't know how to proceed because so much is at stake all of a sudden. He doesn't want this to just be a night of meaningless fun. He doesn't want to risk seeing you walk away from him afterward.

Sukuna never cared that deeply about someone. For a long time, he assumed he wasn't capable of love. Maybe because no one ever treated him with love either. Maybe because no one saw him in that light. Maybe because he always was just the guy for one night. Or maybe because he was a god-like monster that people admired but also feared. Maybe because he scared everyone off with his intimidating looks and personality.

But you somehow saw something more in him. Sukuna thinks you are the first and only one who saw his true self, which was hidden so deeply behind his perfect mask of arrogance and indifference.

And now Sukuna's world has been turned upside down. Suddenly, he doesn't want to take but wants to give instead. He doesn't just care about his own pleasure but wants you to feel good. He wants to see your eyes roll back and hear you moan his name, not because it gives him a feeling of power but because he wants to make you happy. He wants you to stay in his bed and in his arms afterward. He wants to wake up with you snuggled against him. He wants to kiss your hands and your lips and tell you that you own his heart. He wants it to mean something.

Sukuna doesn't know how to return to the person he was before you loved him and taught him how to love, too. And he knows he could never share this with anyone else. So please forgive him if his large, strong hands tremble slightly when he touches your cheek. Even a man like him can be scared of something.

[veroniquesboutique]

A Good First Impression - Atsushi Murasakibara x AFAB!Reader

I am feral over Atsushi Murasakibara. Worms using my brain for food type of feral. Foaming at the mouth type of feral.

He is unironically my phone background type of feral.

So, uh....here's this. Personally, I feel real great about it, so I hope you enjoy it as well.

Title: A Good First Impression

Rating: Explicit

Warnings:

AFAB!Reader, Female Reader, f-receiving oral, fingering, it is genuinely only him eating you out, mention of m-receiving handjob, super intense orgasm, squirting, reluctance/hesitation about the squirting but not quite dubcon/noncon, baby used regularly as pet name, college au, fear of getting caught, getting caught after the fact, home for the holidays, parent mention

Characters & ships: boyfriend!Murasakibara Atsushi x AFAB!Reader

Word count: 2.6k words

Summary: Your long-term boyfriend is nervous about staying at your childhood home and meeting your parents for the first time for four reasons:

1 - He's tall, and people tend to comment on it. Too much. 2 - First impressions are a big deal, and what if he fucks it up with his future in-laws? 3 - He met you in college and is terrified of learning something about the you from before (spoiler: you pass the test!) 4 - He can't keep his hands off of you, and he doesn't want the embarrassment of getting caught.

18+ Minors DNI!

More explicit below the cut

Atsushi Murasakibara was nervous to meet your parents for many reasons.

First, his height. This was the first time he was meeting your family, and your parents weren’t exactly short per se, but he was a towering 6’10”. He hated new people having to crane their neck up to look at him, he hated the same three questions and two jokes that every person tells when they meet someone as tall as him, and he hated that he was going to have to learn the careful layout of your childhood home since it was likely not designed with someone of his towering stature in mind. It was always so embarrassing when he’d bump his head on too-low ceiling fans or when he had to bend too far to reach the sink. No one really realizes how weirdly isolating it feels to be at least a head taller than everyone around you, and that’s if he’s lucky. It definitely makes the first impression game much harder.

Second, the holidays. For some reason, instead of meeting your parents for the first time at a low-stakes dinner or briefly in public, he agreed to stay for a week for the holidays at your house. It wasn’t ideal, but they lived in the countryside, and a hotel would have been so inconvenient, so you two decided to stay with your parents. He even sat through the awkward conversation where you all had to figure out if he was sleeping in your room or on the couch. Your parents weren’t exactly the most conservative people in the world - they knew you lived with him now for God’s sake, so it’s not like they had no idea what you two got up to - but everyone was deeply uncomfortable with the suggestion of anything happening under their roof. That being said, none of their couches could handle him - re: the aforementioned height problem - so they made the disgruntled decision to let you two room together. Just no locking the door.

On top of it all, he wanted to bring them gifts, but he had no idea where to even start with holiday gifts for future in-laws he’d never met. You insisted that he didn’t really have to get them anything and that they’d be thankful for anything he put thought into, but that didn’t ease the burden of deciding if your dad was a beer guy or if he was a tool guy or if he was a sports guy or a grill guy or a music guy. The options made his head spin, and that’s not even touching all the possible gifts he could get your mother. This was it - THE first impression - and if he didn’t get it right, he was afraid of a rocky relationship with them forever.

Third, your childhood. He didn’t know you before you two met in college, so everything about you before you moved to the city is a complete mystery to him. His worst nightmare was discovering something about you that he would never be able to unsee. He had always hated the vulnerability in this moment in all of his previous relationships, and it had soured more than one relationship well before its expiry date.

The night you arrived, you showed him to your room, and he held his breath as you swung the door open for him. He walked in, looking around, waiting for the weird childhood shoe to drop, but…it didn’t. The room was fairly normal. It looked like it could be a teenage room in a movie. It seemed stale, set in time, but it didn’t give him the same feeling of ick throughout his body. Carefully, shelf by shelf, he investigated your knickknacks and decorations and memories, and everything he saw made him love the small piece of you that he knew more than the last. By the time he had overturned every stone in your room, his heart was beating harshly in the rhythm of your name.

“You look like you were expecting something crazy,” You laughed at him, having watched him snoop through your past.

He looked at you, his eyes full of warmth. “I was. I didn’t find anything.”

And then he snuck a kiss.

Fourth, the final most important reason he was nervous was you. Well, to be more specific, he was nervous because he couldn’t keep his hands off of you, and this trip wasn’t going to change anything.

He was nervous because he didn’t want to get caught.

“Ah-Ah, ‘Sushi!” You moan, high pitched and trying to keep the volume low as you wiggle in his grip in an attempt to free yourself from the intensity of his tongue between your legs. Your wrist is pressed against your lips to dampen the sound. He tightens his grip on the back of your thighs, pushing your legs further apart and against your body, opening you up for him, and his tongue continues roughly sliding against your sensitive, buzzing clit.

“They aren’t home. You can be loud,” He grunts against you before wrapping his lips around you and sucking you into his mouth, and you can’t help it as you throw your head back and cry out at the feeling.

“They could be home any second!” You hiss, your hips bucking involuntarily against his face, and in response, he moans deeply, sending tingles through your body.

“Then cum before they get back.”

Biting your lip and panting, nearly winded, you stare down at him, meeting his eyes watching you just over your pelvis, and when his tongue dips into you and presses against your trembling walls, you moan loudly with a furrowed brow. Your fingers tangle through his messy purple strands, pushing his face against your core harder.

He slurps the messy wetness dripping out of you, the sound lewd enough to make you blush. “God, you taste so good,” He groans into you, his tongue desperate. “It’s been too long.”

“It’s been three days!” You laugh breathlessly, body convulsing at the small nudges of his nose against your clit as he drinks you in.

“And that’s three days too many,” he complains, shaking his head and smearing his face against the slickness between your legs. “I can’t wait like that. I need you all the time.”

You pant in response, unable to form words when his tongue finds your clit again, brushing against it at a punishing pace. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, your stomach spasming, and he finally releases one of your legs from his controlling grip just to slide it up your needy slit and dip one of his long fingers into you. You nearly cum then, your back arching so aggressively that you hit your head against the wall, and he can’t help the small laugh that rumbles against your nerves.

“Careful, babe,” He mutters, curling the single finger inside you, and the feeling is such a warm, pleasurable tightness in your core.

“I’m going to cum,” You whisper, dropping your jaw open in pleasure, and you feel his smile in response.

“I’m not done yet, so if you cum now, you’re going to have to handle it when I keep going.”

You whimper, lip quivering and body shaking. Breathing, you attempt to stave off the orgasm that has you dangling off the edge of sanity. He slows his movements, watching you closely as he wrings you of cute little sounds and moans and shivers, and it helps when you suck in air, huffing through your nose to stop the trembling in your lower abdomen.

“Y-you said cum before they get back,” You counter, hissing the words through your teeth as you lean up, your toes curling tightly. His tongue helicopters against your throbbing clit, and he takes the hand that was on the back of your other thigh and places it atop your pelvis, pressing down as the finger still deep inside presses up, and you feel the telltale tightening in your core that makes you panic a little.

“You can choose to cum now and be overstimulated, or you can choose to cum later at the risk of your parents hearing you,” He looks up over you with a smile, a second finger suddenly pushing into you to meet the other. “I’m a believer in autonomy.”

As his two fingers now press into the gummy sweet spot in you, you confirm the tightening is definitely going to cause many, many more problems than he’s considering. You bring your hands to grip the bedding below you, trying to wiggle away again. “’Sushi, I-I, wait, I’m going to-” You frustratingly cut yourself off with a groan as his mouth finds your clit again.

“Going to what, babe?” His voice rumbles against you, and there’s a soft wash of pleasure moving through you like waves against a shore. You can only think that it’s going to be a pain to clean after this.

“It’s going to-I’m going to-”

“Aw, baby, I need you to use your words,” He teases, batting his eyelashes innocently when you shoot him a glare.

“I’m going to make a mess,” You grunt through gritted teeth, raising your eyebrows in hopes of him understanding the euphemism, and when it clicks in his brain, his eyes go bright and wide.

He hums darkly, pressing his fingers into you deeper and earning a surprised squeal out of you. “You’re going to squirt for me, baby?”

“God, I hate that word!” You yelp, involuntarily grinding your hips down onto him and panting out in tight, restrained pleasure. “You-you gotta stop now, I-”

“I wouldn’t dare waste this opportunity. You know I love making a mess of you.” His voice is dark, his eyes still teasing as he draws circles around your clit, and between the stretch of his now scissoring fingers, the pressure on your pelvis from his large hand, and his unrelenting pace on your sensitive spots, you’re seeing stars.

Falling back, you groan again, the feeling of uncomfortable tightening worsening deep in you. “The bedding!” You exclaim, arching your back, “I can’t-ah, fuck, I’ll mess up the bedding.”

“Your parents have a washer.”

“The bedding was from my grandmother,” You groan, scrunching up your face and writhing, closing your thighs around his head when it gets too intense. Hyperventilating, you press the side of your face into the pillow, bringing your hand to your face to bite down on your hand to quell the rocking of pleasure inside you now.

“Pity,” He mumbles, distracted too much by the sounds pouring from your mouth, the clenching of your pussy, the taste of your arousal coating his tongue, the slick sounds of his fingers deep in you, and the promise of even more to come (literally and figuratively). “We should’ve put a towel down, huh?”

You groan, frustrated by his lackadaisical demeanor but unable to communicate it as the feeling of pleasure floods your body. You can feel your eyes go a little hazy, and moments later, you call out, your orgasm hitting you like a wall of bricks. It feels like an electric shock through your body, every muscle in your body tensing with a tight zap as the dam breaks inside of you. You squirt, gushing and coating the bed and, effectively, Atsushi’s face, and the only thing that cuts through the absolute sensory overload of your pleasure is his praise that he groans against your skin.

“That’s it, baby, that’s so good. Feel it, c’mon, you can breathe. You taste so good, thank you, baby, thank you.”

With your heavy pants and soft, whimpering moans as aftershocks of the orgasm reverberate through you, your pussy pulses and throbs in time with your heart, and when he softly pushes into you one last time to wring the rest of it out of you, you squeak out a last whine as the final wave of your cum rushes out of you and over his hand. He chuckles at the sight, pulling out of you and dragging his tongue up his fingers while making dark, teasing eye contact with you. Watching his tongue work to lick all of your cum off his skin, your body trembles with both your world-shattering orgasm and the sudden impending need that pulses through you yet again already.

“Kiss me?” You breathe softly, lips barely parted, and he cracks a wide smile, laughing like he’s disbelieving of you.

“You’re going to be the death of me, baby.” His voice is tense and dark with desire, and he crawls up your body slowly, and he meets your mouth with his extended tongue. You lick against it, tasting yourself, and he moans out loud, his hips pressing against yours. His length, hard and impressive, rubs against you, and the friction makes you cry out. You’re too sensitive and overstimulated, but he just smirks against your lips. “I told you to choose carefully. I wasn’t done with you.”

His hand drags down your body, feeling your curves with a hint of possession in his grasp. When he reaches his waist where his hips are pressing into yours, he grips his belt, pulling at the buckle, ripping it through the belt loops on his pants -

The front door opens. The sound of rustling bags floats up to your room. The floorboards creak.

Your eyes go wide in panic.

“Sweetheart?” Your mother calls up the stairs. “We’re home! Atsushi and you should come down and help us with dinner.”

“Get up, get up!” You mutter under your breath, gently batting at his shoulder as he frantically slides off you and off the bed, fixing his belt and helping you by pulling your bedding off. You’re searching for clothes, quickly pulling them on your legs.

The stairs whine as someone climbs step by step.

Your face burns at the impending embarrassment. Atsushi is struggling to hide his arousal with his clothes, and you’re struggling to wipe the slowly drying slick from between your thighs. Your bedding lays in a crumpled, suspicious ball on your mattress.

“Sweetheart?” Your mother asks again, her voice much closer than before.

The doorknob jiggles against the lock.

“C-coming!” You call back, pushing your fingers through your hair as Atsushi wipes his hands down his face to clean up any mess left behind.

“Your door’s-”

You cut off your mother’s inquiry about the locked door by swinging it open. “Sorry, force of habit,” You laugh, opening the door wide enough that she can see Atsushi sitting at your desk with his phone in his hand. He nods a greeting at her.

Her eyes flit to your unmade bed, back down to you, and back over to Atsushi. A slight blush covers her cheeks. “We…we brought groceries for dinner. Would you two like to come help?”

You look over your shoulder at Atsushi who meets your gaze. After a moment, he shrugs and nods. “Sure, we’d love to.”

“Great…come…down when you’re ready,” Your mother says awkwardly, quickly excusing herself back down the stairs. Once you hear her shoes click into the kitchen, you shut the door again, pressing your back to it as you finally let the air in your lungs go in a long sigh. You look up at Atsushi who is trying to bite back his laughter.

“Do you think she noticed?” You wince, knowing the answer.

“Oh yes, absolutely. She knows everything,” He stands, lumbering across the room towards you. He kisses your nose, his hand meeting yours on the doorknob. “Let’s go help with dinner.” He thinks. “And maybe later you can pay me back with a handjob in the shower.”

You groan, the thought of the blush on your mother’s face making your embarrassment burn brighter. “Absolutely not.”

[ma1dita]

feed the fire

a 'partners in crime' installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

words: 1.2k

summary: (pre-established relationship) The one where his focus is not on spilled food, but on you. The fight never ends, but food service does, and well, you’re pretty when you’re mad. Lucky for you, your dad doesn’t really need offerings. Lucky for Luke, you’re in a sharing mood.  Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader

a/n: Chiron isn’t gonna bet his kids against each other he on the side of love wym -.- (unbeta'd and purely made by caffeine)

(posted 1/22/24)

—

“If that was your definition of fun, Castellan, you are most possibly the worst person alive,” you grumble, bumping past Luke in the dinner line. The weight of his plate is as heavy as his stare, eyes following you as you turn to look at him and he knows you’re pissed after his team won capture the flag. 

Again. 

After years at Camp Half-Blood and years of arguing with you, everything gets a bit repetitive. But he can’t help but bite back a grin at this routine you two have created—it’s never boring when you’re around. You get as close as you can to his large frame, nose turned up for another face-off and he shouldn’t find your anger…so attractive. He shouldn’t be so interested in someone who looks like they’re about to wring his neck. However, Luke eats up the attention from you like he’s starving and wanting seconds, so he eggs you on just to see how this turns out.

“But a damn good demigod right? You’re just a sore loser, Trouble. Gonna have to do better than that to impress me,” Luke jabs at you, holding his tray in one hand. His grin gets impossibly bigger once his half-siblings rumble with laughter behind him, and the frown on your face deepens.

Where you two are involved, there’s always a spectacle. Rumors of campers placing bets and keeping score to the point of updating Mr. D with the count of who comes up on top each time you two argue. He’s past the point of assigning you two extra chores and taking away leisure time since you’re much older now (and essentially run the camp for him), so the god has resigned himself to placing bets with the kids (without Chiron knowing). But every week after capture the flag, Luke unknowingly bumps up several points just by existing. It’s damaging Mr. D’s stakes so much that he might have to bet against you, his own child, next time.

Plus, there’s just something about Luke that always riles you up.

“Who said I was impressing you?” You scoff, blocking him from walking to his table and he looks down at you (both figuratively and literally) with a raised eyebrow.

“I don’t know, with the way you won’t let it go, some people might think you’re obsessed with me, sweetheart. Can’t blame you, though.” Luke’s words slip through his lips like water, and this time he’s unable to place what the expression on your face means as you stare back at him blankly with your fists clenched.

The only thing he’s able to perceive as a warning is the twitch of your eye before you’re on him, climbing him like a tree as you slam into him, knocking him to the ground and screaming, “YOU’RE SO FULL OF IT, CASTELLAN!”

Luke braces for impact as your hands are flying at him though there’s no intent to cause injury—he’s felt your right hook before and it took the air out of his lungs. This, was just you being petty, hands slapping him across the head and chest before you pulled him in by the front of his shirt, and then…it was over before it even started.

“KID! What do you think you’re doing?” Mr. D’s voice rings across the dining pavilion and your eyes meet Luke’s as you both remember where you are.

On his lap, with everyone watching. 

Air escapes him again as he feels the weight of your hips against his hands and he doesn’t quite remember when he moved them there, or when in all of these arguments he’s stopped fighting back. 

But was it ever really a fight, Luke wonders looking up at you, not even hearing anything coming out of Mr. D’s mouth right now. Your hair is framing your face and the harsh overhead lighting in the dining pavilion surrounds you like a halo. You look like you’ve been blessed by Aphrodite herself, ethereal and strong… and a new funny feeling in his chest makes him suddenly unsure of everything you two have ever done together. This isn’t part of the routine.

Shit. 

He’s in trouble.

The fist in his shirt loosens and he falls hard, head bumping against the hardwood floor. Luke can see his tray facedown on the ground, the grapes and his dinner roll bouncing away underneath the tables.

“He did it,” you blurt out like a kid caught with their hands in the cookie jar. You can feel Luke’s chest rumble with laughter under your fingertips and you push up off of him, extending a hand to help him up. Your dad is gesturing at you to clean the mess, but by the time you finish your angry gestures and eye rolls to turn towards the utility closet, Luke’s already back and sweeping up the fallen food without any complaints. 

“You know, for the strongest swordsman in 300 years, I took you down pretty easy, huh, Luke?” You say cheesily, bumping his shoulder as he chuckles.

“You just caught me off guard—throwing yourself at me like a deranged satyr.”

“Oh because you’re a dainty nymph in distress,” you bite back, walking away to get dinner.

By the time he’s done cleaning up the mess, food service is over. He scratches the back of his neck and goes to sit next to Chris, who’s wolfed down most of his meal already, but to his surprise, you’re sitting in his usual seat with a plate piled high enough for two and some extra prayers.

“You here to rub it in? Gonna have to eat air for dinner because of you.” He falls onto the bench, leaning on his hand as he gazes at you with a slow smile, and then watches you brandish two forks in the air.

“I’ll gouge your eye with a fork if you don’t start eating.”

Your knees are touching under the table and his hand slightly shakes as he pulls the utensil from your fingers. 

“Sometimes I think I like it better when you’re mean to me,” he jokes but takes a hefty bite of pasta anyway.

“You love it.”

He can’t help but agree.

—

Clarisse walks over to Mr. D who’s watching you two from across the dining pavilion with an emotion akin to confusion and possibly disgust. You’re both laughing at something indiscernible to everyone else around you, together, not at each other…and it’s unsettling. The daughter of Ares stands in front of the Olympian with her palm extended.

“Pay up. Luke clearly won again.”

Mr. D’s eye twitches as he holds onto his drachmas. He was supposed to be entertained by this, not be the entertainment.

“Did he though? They both look like they’ve tamed down. This is starting to get boring.”

A hand comes out of nowhere, snatching the drachmas out of the god’s hand, and Clarisse’s eyes widen at Chiron, who’s been behind them all along.

“I’ll take that. Don’t think either of them are gonna win this in the end.”

The three of them watch Luke say something to you with a mischievous grin and you gape at him as you shove a bread roll into his mouth angrily.

Mr. D tuts and it catches your attention, your middle finger directed at him as you push the rest of your plate towards Luke.

“What, no offerings for your dear father?” He calls out disgruntled by your audacity. 

“You clearly eat enough, D!”

Luke elbows you as he laughs behind his bread roll, and Chiron smiles, knowing what’s forming between you two, even if you both don’t see it quite yet.

—

“There’s something between us; a sort of pull. Something you always do to me, and I to you.” F. Scott Fitzgerald

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[frantic-fiction]

May I request some Jealous!Fem!Reader x Astarion? Maybe one where someone from Astarion’s past makes an appearance and while Astarion sees this woman as just a friend, reader can see the woman blatantly flirting with her vampire spawn and she doesn’t like it one bit. ESPECIALLY if Astarion’s oblivious to the woman’s advances and innocently engages (because let’s face it, our boy loves being praised & complimented 24/7). Reader decides it’s her turn to stake her claim on our little sassy vampire and remind everyone who he belongs to ;)

Yes! Yes! Thank you for the request!

Jealous

Astarion x gn!reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1.5k

Masterlist

It was nice being back in the city. Yes, there was still the ever-looming threat of the Absolute, but most of the party was back home, and for once, it felt like, for a moment, everyone could breathe. You had a fluffy bed to sleep on instead of a lumpy bedroll. And while Gale always made whatever perversions the party scavenged taste good, the warm, hearty tavern meals you've been treated to as of late were too good to beat.

But the best part of being back was taking any moment to drag Astarion out into the city to wherever he fancies so he can explore Baldur's Gate in the daylight without the darkness of Cazador. He wanted to visit the farmers market today, so you wandered the vendors' stalls, stopping to take moments and smell flowers and sample wares.

Astarion politely conversed with a tailor about the fabric quality used for a shirt he wanted. Frankly, they had been talking longer than your attention span could handle, so when your eyes wandered to a stall full of beaded jewelry, you wasted no time giving Astarion a quick peck on the cheek and telling him where you'd be.

The pieces were beautiful and skillfully crafted—brightly colored beads and gold inlays, gems of various minerals, all catching your eyes. The older halfling woman propped highly on the stool, greets you politely, and gives little details and facts about each one you set aside for closer inspection. Maybe you should get something for Shadowheart and Karlach? Probably not Lae—

"Astarion!"

A feminine voice has you snapping your head back to your partner. A frown instantly settles over your features when you see a tall, elven woman pull Astarion's hug. Her brown hair is intricately braided into a top knot decorated in sparkly chains. Her dress hugs her curves, framing her body perfectly.

Why are they still hugging?

"Oh Gods, it's been too long. You're looking amazing." Her nasal voice filters down the markets. "How are you, love?"

Astarion finally manages to break the hug, giving the woman an automatic flirtatious smile, the tailor long forgotten. "Eleanor, I've been well. I do hope the same can be said for you."

Dropping the beads with little care, you leave the stall, ignoring the halfling. You don't like this woman. You don't like how her hand still lingers on Astarion's forearm or how she leans ever so slightly closer as if daring him to kiss her.

"I've been fine, though I'm upset you haven't visited in quite a while. It's been rather dull without you." She runs her hand up his arm.

Astarion laughs, flicking his hand in the air and clearly enjoying the woman's words. "I could only imagine, my dear. Those brutes are fowl at their best. Who wouldn't miss me."

Your jaw clenches when her obnoxious laughter rings in the air. Pushing past a family of four throwing a half-ass apology, not paying mind, too pissed off. Who does this woman think she is putting her hands on Astarion as if he's hers?

"Astarion, you always knew how to make me laugh." Elenor ducks her head, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "If I'm being honest, I was always jealous of the ones you took home. But now that we're here, maybe…"

Oh, hell no! You practically jump the rest of the way and run into Astarion's arm. He lets out a breathy oof, arms tightening around your waist to keep you from tumbling to the ground. Pretending you weren't aware of the woman, you capture Astarion into a chaste kiss before beaming up at him.

"I hope you found what you were looking for, my love." Your voice is sickly sweet as you trail your thumb across his cheekbone. Then you turn your head and feign innocence, looking at the elf. "Oh, I'm sorry, Star. Who is this?"

Astarion gives you a look but recovers quickly. Clearing his throat, he speaks, "Darling, this is Eleanor. She owns a tavern I frequented. One of the only decent companies I've had before we met."

Moving away from Astarion's side, you reach your hand out in greeting, giving her your name, "It's a pleasure to meet a friend of my Star,"

Eleanor looks a bit taken aback, staring blankly at the two of you, clearly not expecting this change in her plans. You're internally preening. She takes your hand in a limp shake before dropping it and stepping back. Eleanor quickly wipes her hand on her dress slyly and chuckles.

"That explains why I haven't seen you in a while."

You sneer at her, wanting nothing more than to punch her. Instead, you drop your hand onto Astarion's chest, nuzzling warmly into his side. "Yes, sorry about that. I've been a bit selfish. Sometimes it hard to get out of bed."

"Right…" Eleanor says. Astarion, I never took you as one to settle down, especially someone as… unique as them."

"What is that supposed to mean?" The venom drips from your words, and Astarion has to keep you in place.

Eleanor smirks. "Oh, I meant nothing bad." The mocking tone alone reinforces that she meant this to be as insulting as possible. "I'm just stating you're rougher around the edges."

Astarion's hold on your waist tightens as you move to step forward, hand reaching for the dagger discreetly hidden against your thigh. There is no possible way this woman values Astarion in any way more than as a body to conquer. That thought alone has you practically baring your teeth.

"What the fuck does that mean!"

Astarion steps in before you can do anything extreme, "Eleanor, it was lovely seeing you again. We'll have to come and visit sometime for a drink, but I'm afraid my love and I must make our leave."

"Oh yes, of course!" Elenor says, her voice a bit too filled with fake cheer. Her smile is strained, and her eyes stare daggers into your skull. "I hope I can see you at the tavern sometime soon."

"Yes, we'll come down for a visit sometime soon. " Astarion calls over his shoulder, practically dragging you down the cobblestone. You think about ripping your arm out of his hold and turning back, but you let him pull you along with only a death glare sent toward Eleanor.

As soon as the two of you are in a secluded place, Astarion drops your hand and turns on you. "Darling, what was that?"

Picking at your nails, you shrug your shoulders. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Astarion takes your hand and, with a finger, tilts your chin to force you to meet his eyes. He has a shit-eating grin, and his fangs are even more prominent in his smile. "You were jealous."

Swatting his hands away, you step back. "I was not!" You lie and storm down the alleyway. You didn't get far before Astarion caught your wrist and spun you into his chest.

"You were jealous." He repeats. "But you really shouldn't be."

"She was all over you."

"It was a hug, my dear, from probably the closest normal friendship I had before the tadpole."

"Friendship? She was practically begging you to fuck her." You huff, fiddling with the lapels of Astarion's shirt.

Astarion chuckles deeply and presses a kiss to your forehead. "Gods, you're cute when you're jealous."

"Don't make fun of me, Astarion."

Ignoring you, he continues. "For argument's sake, if she was begging me to fuck her, as you so eloquently put it, who cares? I certainly don't, not when I have this beautiful, strong, incredibly understanding partner who knows all the darkest parts of me and still stands by my side?"

"Well, I am pretty noble for putting up with you when you're hungry." You smile, looping your arms around his neck, all jealousy draining from you like water from a colander.

"How could another soul handle me in that horrid state." Astarion runs his nose against yours. "I love you and don't plan on stopping soon."

You beam and kiss him breathlessly before mumbling, "I love you too," against his lips. "I think we should head back to our room."

Astarion chuckles under his breath, running his hands down the curve of your spine. "Oh, what for my sweet?"

"Well," Crawling your fingers up his chest, you press your lips to his ear and whisper. "If you'll let me, I want to mark every inch of your neck." "Mark me as yours, darling?" Astarion hums.

"Mhmm, we could go further, but" you continue. "Tonight, I want you to show me this tavern Eleanor owns. I think we deserve a date night."

"You are jealous."

"If I agree, will you take me out?" You lean in for a kiss.

Astarion presses forward, brushing his lips against yours. "As long as I have a necklace of your pretty love bites."

"Then yes, my love, I am very much jealous."

I've been struggling with inspiration lately. Moving was super stressful and I had to leave a hostile work environment very quickly so life's been a bit messy. But I've got my kitty cat and don't have to deal with a shitty boss so hopefully things will go up from here.

I'm kinda iffy on how I feel on this one but that might just be my current mindset. I hope you all enjoy it regardless, and stay tune because I plan on have something spicier posted soonish...possibly Astarion discovering his breeding kink 🫣❤️

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[mrs-kmikaelson]

02| four-letter words

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x reader Summary: You meet Aaron Hotchner and he makes you see everything in colour; he makes you feel like you're the only girl in the room. But then, as you find out that you're not, you realize the colour he actually makes you see the most is grey. Warnings: sexual harassment, miscommunication, complicated relationships, emotional and physical cheating (not in this part technically), references to abuse, based on olivia pope and fitzgerald grant Words: 5.1K

Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Part 3

a/n: long-awaited, but here's part 2. the next part is coming soon, and it'll be the last part of aaron and r in college! it'll shed more light on their relationship in '05 compared to '89 and '90.

JULY 1990

You were going on your third year at Georgetown soon, then you'd be graduating.

It was exciting, invigorating. This was everything you'd worked for finally coming together. your dreams coming true. The last decade of your life had been spent trying to get exactly where you were. No drinking, no drugs, no downtime—no distractions.

You didn't come from money—but you didn't tell people that, of course. Everyone just made their own assumptions. Georgetown Law was an expensive school, saved for people who could afford it. So you worked your ass off, garnering scholarship money and planning your life out to a tee.

It's why, every second that wasn't spent studying, you were working at the bar. The only reason you weren't working during the day was because you were interning at a professor's practice.

Everything was counting on this next year for you, just as it was for everybody, but the stakes were higher for someone like you specifically.

Aaron didn't know that.

He went to boarding school when he was younger. Based on the way he'd tense when it was brought up, you knew his childhood wasn't the best, but you also knew that Aaron Hotchner likely never had to wonder if there would be food on the table, if the roof over his head would suddenly disappear.

He didn't have to wonder if his future would even be possible. So it just wasn't something you talked about, even though you shared everything with each other.

Almost everything.

"Slow down, Hopscotch! Not all of us are blessed with long legs."

Your chiding was met with a laugh, and even though you were meant to be scolding him, the sound didn't fail to bring a smile to your face. You were growing to really like that sound, even though it got on your nerves at first.

You might've even loved that sound.

Aaron turned around then, nearly making you bump into him. "Hey—!" You cut yourself off with a squeal when his arms swooped under you, effortlessly picking you up by your thighs and then throwing you over his shoulder like it was nothing. Your eyes widened. "Aaron— Aaron!"

You felt him shrug. "You were complaining. So I took care of the problem for you."

Your mouth opened and closed like you were a fish, stammering in shock. He was still walking full stride through the hallway, like you weren't even there. He just picked you up, for God's sake. In the entire time you'd known him, he'd never done anything of the sort.

You were a little startled.

"Hopscotch, put me down right. now." Your pleas fell upon deaf ears as he just continued to move forward. "Your neighbours might see!"

He snorted. "So? We're literally almost there."

Again, you were just sputtering in shock. He was right, though—you arrived at his apartment in no less than thirty seconds, and he was reaching into his pocket for the keys soon after. This reminded you of the matching key in your own pocket, the one he gave you after just a couple months knowing each other. In case you ever need it, he'd said, or if you just wanna drop by.

That took you off guard at first, but you learned that Aaron was always direct, never one to beat around the bush. He wanted your friendship badly, and after watching him work for it tirelessly, who were you to deny him?

It wasn't like you had many friends in the first place. Perhaps that's why it always surprised you when he did things like this, things like giving you a key to his place or throwing you over his shoulder, insisting he drive you home after your shift, buying you the exact bag he'd seen you wordlessly eyeing in the mall for your birthday—an expensive one, at that, a little too expensive for a law student.

Was it surprising because you weren't used to it or was it surprising because it was him doing it? You didn't know, and you weren't sure if you wanted to.

This, this right here, was a good friendship. You knew that as Aaron set you down and gave a kiss to your head, giving you feelings you shouldn't have had. He doesn't mean it like that, you told yourself, assuring yourself that he didn't think much of the things he did.

He couldn't. He was your best friend, your only friend.

And that's all there was to it.

You and Aaron spent that summer together, attached at the hip. It felt good to have a friend, to let loose every once in a while and breathe. He reminded you to breathe.

You didn't know how you could've possibly passed this up before, how the old you could've just ignored him. It was luck that he ended up at the place you bartended for. It was luck that you met him. Luck, and maybe another four-letter word.

You didn't believe in Fate. It felt wrong to believe in something that took credit for everything you did. It wasn't Fate that got you into one of the most prestigious law schools in the country; it was you.

But what else could you call this? What else could you call a man being thrusted into your life, relentlessly trying to be your friend even as you gave him every reason not to? 

You didn't know. All you knew was that, if Fate existed, you'd have to thank her. You were starting to believe in it all.

Fate, luck, and other four-letter words.

"I'm really gonna miss you when you're gone, Y/N."

You barely stopped yourself from whipping your head around. At first, you were startled by the noise itself, thinking he was asleep, but then you were startled by the words themselves.

It was 3 or maybe 4AM. You got off your shift at the bar a little early and went to Aaron's for a movie, but he tapped out halfway through. You were just starting to clean up when he spoke. You almost didn't hear it; his voice was just above a whisper. 

Your breath hitched, and for a moment, you didn't know what to say. He didn't say things like that—that wasn't what the two of you did. You didn't talk about your feelings; neither of you did.

All the things Aaron had ever said to you ran through your head at that moment, all the times he might've toed the line but never crossed it. In all that memory, you couldn't find anything like this.

But this was something friends said, right? To show each other they cared? This wasn't out of line; this was just him being a good friend.

As you stared at him and the glazed over look in his eye, that's what you told yourself. That this was normal, that he was a great friend— your friend.

But he wasn't looking at you like you were a friend.

You got over the little shock you had, throwing him the best tired smile you could muster. "I'm not gonna be that far. I plan on staying in D.C. when I graduate, so you don't need to worry." You didn't say that you'd miss him, too. But he knew. He always knew.

Looking back, you wonder if he knew everything else you weren't saying.

"I know." There was a beat, but he didn't look away from you; you couldn't tell if you hated that or loved it. When his voice returned, it was just as soft. "It's just going to be different."

Another beat passed, the whirring of the AC being the only sound audible as you stared at each other. Then, tenatively, you grabbed his hand, engulfing it yours. You didn't know why you did it—you just did.

You squeezed it, not allowing yourself to break eye contact once. Because you hoped he could see the other words in your eyes that you didn't know how to say. You hoped he could feel them as your hands melded together. 

It's going to be okay, you said. You think he understood, because he squeezed right back.

It was gonna be okay. The sentence spanned through your mind, along with another. You don't know if he caught the other one; you weren't sure if you even did.

Okay. Okay. Okay. Okay.

And other four-letter words you didn't have the power to say.

Life moved on as if that day in Aaron's living room never happened, and in your eyes, it was best that way. You weren't good with feelings; they'd never gotten you anywhere. Even if you were starting to feel something, despite all your best intentions and every time you told yourself otherwise. 

You told yourself you were wrong, that whatever you were feeling only felt weird because it was unfamiliar. Friends weren't something you had a lot of—you just didn't know how to handle it, that was all. And however Aaron was looking at you—however you thought he was looking at you—was nothing more than a trick of light.

His eyes just look different in the dark, you convinced yourself. That wasn't entirely wrong.

But it wasn't entirely right, either.

The club was dark, much darker than the bar you worked at, but the strobe lights compensated for it. The lights danced around the room much like the patrons, randomly and without care. You paid mind to neither as you maneuvered across the floor, heading straight for the bar.

Aaron was back at your booth. Your booth. You snorted to yourself at the thought.

Of course, they had a booth. 

It was his friend's birthday, and for some reason, Aaron wanted you there. You couldn't fathom why he'd even agree to attend if he wasn't comfortable with them, but there were many things about his behaviour that you didn't understand.

You understood his discomfort, though. After spending just thirty minutes with them, you were eager to find any opportunity to leave. They were dumb jocks, not entirely dumb—this was Georgetown, after all—but they were nothing like the crowd you thought Aaron would hang around. You wondered how they even became acquainted in the first place, but then again, you weren't exactly someone he'd typically be friends with either.

Where'd you find this broad, Aaron? they asked.How'd you get her? they asked. She looks out of your league, they said. Sweetheart, what are you doing with him? they asked.

We're just friends, he responded. Every single time. It was the appropriate response, the Aaron Hotchner response, but there was an edge to his voice as the words left his mouth, an edge much sharper than the roundness he normally spoke to you with. 

You didn't understand that, either.

As soon as the opportunity arose, you volunteered yourself to get the next round of drinks. You missed the look Aaron sent you as you left.

At the bar, you waved the bartender down. "Could I get six beers, please? For table 18?" The guy didn't acknowledge you with anything more than a nod, but that was enough for you.

"Nothing for yourself?" The voice, unexpectedly close, startled you.

You jolted, spinning to see Aaron's friend standing behind you. He was the birthday boy—though, you couldn't exactly remember his name. Mike, Mark— it was some name with an M that you didn't care to memorize, nor recall.

You gave him a smile, reminding yourself that even though this guy was uninteresting, he was Aaron's friend, and so the least you could do was not be rude. Plus, it was his birthday.

"I have work tomorrow," you reasoned, choosing to ignore the fact that you didn't have to go in until late in the afternoon.

"Ah," he said. You thought he'd leave it at that, but you'd soon learn that the birthday boy was persistent. "Does that mean you'd be busy tonight?"

You kept the smile on your face, even as it got tighter with his implication. "Yeah. I plan on turning in early." You were no stranger to intoxicated men that had trouble taking no for an answer; you saw it all the time, and you knew how to handle it by now. Smile, don't insult them, be polite, and wait for them to walk away.

Aaron's friend didn't walk away.

"Aw, come on, baby." The name sounded slimy coming out of his mouth. Ignore him, your mind chanted, don't cause a scene. "I can pay you." 

Just as you'd turned back to the bar, your head was whipping back around. "Excuse me?"

The guy must not have seen the incredulity splayed all over your face; that, or he just didn't care. He shrugged. "I know you could use the money. Aaron's told us all about how you're here on scholarship." He said the words carelessly, unknowing of the weight they held.

He— he did? He told them that— his stupid friends that he couldn't even bear to spend a single night with? You didn't even tell him that; you didn't talk about it. Did he just make that assumption and run with it, then go around telling people?

Your Aaron, the one who waited for your shifts to end and bought you pretty things. Did he... did he just do that because he felt bad for you?

A whirlwind of thoughts swirled around your head, but you fought to keep your face impassive. The smile on your face had long since disappeared. "I don't need your money," you spat. The drinks arrived, but you didn't notice.

He smirked, somehow finding your words amusing. "Oh, baby, don't be offended. I'd be the one truly gaining something here. I'm sure a night with you would be priceless."

The inner voice telling you to stay calm was silenced, and you couldn't tell if you were so angry because of the his words or because of your friend. "Go to hell," you sneered, drinks completely forgotten as you turned away, ready to catch a cab home by yourself.

You were just about to walk away when, suddenly, you felt a foreign sensation, followed by stinging, cementing you to your spot. It was only when you heard his boisterous laughter over the music that you realized what happened.

He slapped your ass.

He slapped your fucking ass.

You pivoted, but before you could even do anything, the boy was sent staggering into the bar. It didn't register to you until you saw the fist following through. Your eyes followed that fist to its owner, meeting a head of dark brown hair.

He wasn't looking at you. His eyes were trained on Mike with a look you didn't recognize, almost like he was baiting him to get back up. With the way he stayed slumped on the bar, you think he was out cold. But with the way the look in Aaron's eyes didn't disappear, you also think he didn't care.

He knocked a guy out for you— his friend.

The same friend he talked about you with.

At that thought, you felt your shock wear off. You spun back around, and in a matter of seconds, you were bulldozing through the crowd at the door. Your ride was still inside, but at that moment, you would've rather walked home than go anywhere near him.

You passed through the mob swiftly, barely registering the call of your name. Was it because of the music or the ringing in your ears? You couldn't tell. 

"Y/N!"

You got outside, rain immediately hitting your head. Was that why your face was wet?

"Y/N!"

Cars whizzed past the club in a flurry. You waved your hand in the air, trying to hail a cab. Why weren't they stopping?

"Y/N, stop." Your hand in the air was grabbed by someone behind you, and only then did you finally realize who was speaking.

You twisted your hand out of his grasp, refusing to turn his way. "Fuck off, Hotchner." The ice in your voice was colder than the raindrops hitting your skin, but even you could hear it crack.

He tried to grab your hand again, but you didn't let him, and so he tried a different approach, grabbing your arm and holding onto it like his life was on the line. Aaron was persistent. He knew how to work people—his debates you'd seen were evidence of that—but you weren't about to let him work you. 

He apologized, "Look, I'm sorry for—"

"For what?" you sharply cut him off, finally turning his way. The sight you were met with nearly broke through your rage. There was that look again, that look in his eyes that could convince you to stay with him forever if he asked you to. Genuine fear.

Fear, and other four-letter words.

You brought your guard back up, using his fear to your advantage and ripping your arm from his hand, turning away before he realized that there was a puddle in your eyes that matched the ones forming on the ground.

You waved your hand again, and on a stroke of luck, a cab finally stopped. Perhaps the universe didn't totally hate you. Before he could utter a single sound, you cursed, "Just fuck off, Aaron."

And maybe the universe actually took pity on you, because Aaron let you get into the cab without any further protest.

If the cab driver noticed the shake in your voice when you told him your address, he didn't say anything. He was silent the entire ride, and you were thankful that he didn't acknowledge you as you tried to stifle your tears.

You were also thankful that you didn't live in a dorm so that, when you got home, you could let the sobs wrack through your body at full force.

God, you told yourself you wouldn't befriend Aaron Hotchner. You told yourself you wouldn't let this happen—that you wouldn't let yourself get hurt. You weren't even supposed to give anyone the opportunity to hurt you, and yet there you were, crying over a boy who wasn't even yours.

He's not yours, Y/N, you berated yourself. He's not yours. The late night movies, the way he sat with you at the bar as you worked, the way he'd study with you and buy you presents. None of that meant anything.

He didn't owe you anything. He didn't owe it you to be the same person around you that he was around his friends. He didn't owe it to you to think of your feelings.

No, he felt sorry for you. Sorry. That was a five letter word.

And it was the only thing Aaron Hotchner felt for you.

Once you stopped crying, you got off the floor and miraculously made it to the bathroom. You weren't drunk, but your legs felt like jello. You weren't sure how much time you spent on the floor sobbing, but when you turned on the light and looked in the mirror, you realized it must've been a long time.

Mascara streaked down your puffy cheeks. Your eyes were so red that it almost looked like you'd been crying for hours. You wiped at your nose, sniffling, and opted to look away from woman in the mirror, turning the faucet on. You didn't want to look at her anymore; she was pitiful, and you weren't supposed to be pitiful.

You couldn't remember the last time you cried so much.

You splashed cold water onto your face, rubbing away at the tear stains. You didn't stop until the swelling looked like it was actually decreasing, but the red in your eyes didn't totally disappear. It made you scoff. You hadn't drank a single drink that night, yet you still looked intoxicated.

Is that what letting people in does? you wondered. Poisons you?

Another scoff left you. You hadn't planned on drinking much that night, but after the events that took place, you figured you might as well.

You opened the bathroom door and made your way to the kitchen. Aaron bought you this bottle of wine once, didn't tell you how much it cost but you knew it was expensive. You were gonna save it for a celebratory occasion, but this was fitting enough.

Just as you were entering the kitchen, you were knocked out of your daze, jerking backward. You threw a hand onto your chest. "Holy fucking shit—"

"Hey, calm down, it's just me—"

"What the fuck, Aaron?" You couldn't keep your voice down, looking at the man in front of you in your dark kitchen with his hands raised as if he was trying to placate you. "Are you trying to give me a fucking heart attack— what the fuck are you doing here?" you fired, barely giving him a chance to answer. "How did you even get in?"

Part of you was shocked that there was a man in your apartment in the first place. The other part was shocked because that man was him.

Aaron kept his left hand up, using his right to reach into his pocket and pull out his key ring. It dawned on you then before he even said it. "You gave me a key."

You couldn't help the sigh that escaped you, even if you tried. You didn't know if you were more mad at yourself for giving him such a thing or at him for using it. He never did before; you only gave it to him after he gave you yours. "And so you chose tonight to use it?"

If looks could kill, he'd be six feet under already. All the sadness you'd felt had disappeared, dissipating into this pure anger. Anger at what he said. Anger at how he ran after you like he cared when you knew he didn't. Anger that he was in your house. And anger that he looked so calm.

Aaron had this ability that not many people had, the ability to remain composed in even the worst of situations. It's what would make him a great lawyer one day. It's also what made it so surprising when he seemingly lost it earlier and punched his own friend, one that he surely knew longer than he knew you.

He was an amazing actor. But it made you wonder what the act really was. Was the composure the mask, or was it the pretence that he gave a damn about you? Was it both? Which one was fake and which one was real? Who was the real Aaron Hotchner?

You realized you didn't know.

Maybe you never did.

He let his hands fall to his sides, reasoning, "I figured you wouldn't have let me in if I knocked."

An incredulous laugh left you, in disbelief at what he was saying. "Of course not." The words didn't come out as strong as you would've liked them to.

"Why?" he questioned. If you didn't know any better, you would've thought he was pleading. His voice was soft, too soft, too unlike the Aaron you thought you knew and also unlike the Aaron you found out about tonight. 

For some reason, you felt a tug at your heartstrings.

He took a step closer, prompting you to take a step back. "What did I do, Y/N?" God, was he going to make you say it? Hadn't you been humiliated enough? "Is this about Matt? Because I swear to you, he won't ever bother you again—"

You cut him off with a loud groan, unable to take it any longer. "God, Aaron. No, this isn't about your sleazy fucking friend!" Against your better judgement, you took a step forward, getting close enough to jab your finger in his chest. "This is about you."

You were reminded then that Aaron's eyes looked different in the dark, but you could've sworn you saw hurt. 

"What— what did I do?" he stammered.

You repeated his words under your breath, scoffing, "What did you do?" You shook your head before you looked back up, a renewed fire in your eyes. "Am I your charity case, Hotchner?"

His eyes narrowed ever so slightly. "What?"

You didn't back down, repeating yourself and enunciating every word slowly. "Am I your charity case?"

Now, he almost looked offended. Angry. But not as angry as you. "What the hell would make you think that?"

Sarcasm laced your voice. "Maybe it was your friend propositioning me because I apparently 'could use the money?' Maybe it was you telling them that I am here on fucking scholarship?" You took another step closer to him, but you failed to see the realization cross his face. "What else did you tell them, huh, Aaron? That you hang out with me because you feel bad for me? That you pay for everything because it makes you feel better about yourself? That I'm so fucking easy all you have to do is wave a wad of cash in my face to get into my pants—"

"Stop it, Y/N! Just fucking stop." He threw his hands into the air, and that momentarily stunned you, but you kept going.

"Oh, you're swearing now. So that means I've touched a nerve—"

His jaw was clenched tightly. "You're being disgusting."

"Am I?" Your voice cracked, and it was almost like you could hear your heart doing the same. The tears were resurfacing. "So how do you think I felt?" You pointed to yourself. "How do you think I felt as I stood there and found out that my—" you cut yourself off.

Your what? What were you gonna say? Your best friend?

Lord knew that Aaron Hotchner was more than that to you, even if that's all he could be.

Your breathing was heavy. You trained your eyes back on the ground, not wanting him to see the tears in your eyes. 

The room was silent. You could hear only the sounds of your own breaths and the rain outside. You were waiting for him to leave so you could find some semblance of peace. You just wanted to be left alone, away from him and all the things he made you feel.

But another part of you was waiting for something else. That part of you was waiting for an explanation. An explanation as to why he would say that, why he would do something like that to you. You knew better than to expect that, so you didn't, but deep down it was what you wanted.

You know better, your brain whispered. You heard his feet shuffle, and you knew then that he was finally leaving. And that was what you wanted, wasn't it?

Wasn't it?

Just as you were waiting for his feet to keep moving, you looked up and you saw that he wasn't at the door; he was right in front of you.

Aaron stared down at you with an intent gaze, like he was peeling back all of your layers the same way he did with case files. Any previous anger was gone, replaced with emotions you couldn't pinpoint.

Move, your mind said. Tell him to leave.

You opened your mouth to utter the words, but for some reason, they didn't get further than the tip of your tongue.

Almost hesitantly, Aaron rested his hands onto your shoulders, and you let him. Naively. Stupidly. It was dumb of you, and you knew it.

Dumb, and other four-letter words.

"Y/N," he started, and then he paused, like he was trying to find the right words to use. The Aaron you knew always knew what to say, but this one looked shaken. It was unnerving, to see a man like him falter, to see a man that stood so tall suddenly get smaller.

After a few moments, he seemed to have decided what to say, but his words didn't sound rehearsed. "I want you to know that I would never speak about you out of turn. It's my last wish to embarass you, let alone place you into a situation you are not comfortable with." 

His voice was wholly earnest. He looked like he was telling the truth—he was looking at you like he was begging you believe him—but that wasn't enough.

"So why would—" you paused at the lump in your throat. "Why would you tell them about the scholarship?" You wanted to come off demanding, authoritative, but your question was just barely above a whisper.

Aaron's composure wavered. He opened his mouth and then he closed it. "I— I didn't know it was something you hid." You sighed, but he must've sensed that his answer wasn't good enough because he continued, "I didn't tell them because I wanted to belittle you, Y/N. I told them because I was proud."

What?

You took a step backward, and this time, he let you. With his hands now free, he brought one up to his head and ran it through his hair.

Confusion filled you and painted itself all over your face. Your mind worked hard to try and decipher what he meant, gears turning and coming up empty. You didn't understand.

He looked back up at you, and now you could make out new emotions in his eyes. Doubt, masked by a blanket of assurance. "I do talk about you," he revealed. "It's— it's nearly unconcious. Habit." His thumb and forefinger tapped together, a nervous tick of his you'd noticed early on. "The topic of the scholarship came up by accident. I was talking about how smart you were, how you're so smart you got here by merit." He swallowed as your brows furrowed. "That's where the conversation began, and that's where it ended. You're not my— fuck. You're not my charity case, Y/N."

Things started coming together, but none of it made any sense. You couldn't see the picture this puzzle made. It's impossible.

What was he saying— did he know what he was saying?

Maybe he didn't know, but you needed to.

You whispered, "Then what am I to you, Aaron?"

His eyes didn't leave yours. You could see the indecision within them, the struggle as he tried to find the right words to describe your relationship. 

You supposed he never did.

Because, within seconds, he advanced and his lips were colliding into yours. You were surpised by how quickly you reciprocated, letting him wrap his arms around your waist, letting him pour all the words he couldn't say into this kiss.

A kiss.

A kiss and other four-letter words.

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