#much less worth KILLING HER over

[reasonsforhope]

hey i get what youre trying to say with the taylor swift post but as of a few days ago shes trying to sue a college student who posts her (publicly available) flight logs. she very much does not give a shit about her carbon emissions and she shouldn’t be celebrated for her mediocre attempts to seem climate-conscious

I get what you're saying, definitely. I also did actually know about the thing with the college student when I posted that, so I wanted to give some context about why I made that post:

First, I personally didn't view it as celebrating her so much as celebrating progress. I think that if we never acknowledge wins, we'll end up dispirited very quickly

Second, recognizing when people decide to be less shitty is, at least I think, an important carrot in the carrot-and-stick dynamic of using public opinion to influence public figures

Lastly - and this may well be an unpopular opinion - but I don't actually hold her actions re: the college student against her

Why?

Well, for one, it was a cease and desist letter, not an attempted lawsuit. A cease and desist letter isn't legally binding, nor is it the start of a lawsuit - it's more like she's Putting Him On Notice. A cease and desist order can be followed by a lawsuit, if it's ignored, but it doesn't initiate one. Likely Taylor Swift will try several other steps of resolution before actually telling her lawyers to sue this guy, if only because the headlines would Not look good (x, x)

But more than that, I don't hold it against her because when Taylor Swift says that it's a matter of life and death for her, I believe that's very true.

Like, don't get me wrong, I'm not mad about her flight data being up either. And I'm not particularly a fan of Taylor Swift

But I also think that if I had to read through the rape and death threats she gets on an almost-certainly-daily basis, I'd want to vomit.

And I think that was true before Trump and his minions got obsessed with the idea that she's the keystone in the next Biden-election-stealing Pentagon psyops plot. Now - especially in the days right before the Superbowl, when this alleged conspiracy is supposed to happen - I don't even want to think about the brutality of the threats she's receiving

(For anyone going "Uh, wtf?" about the MAGA Superbowl Taylor Swift conspiracy thing, yes, I hate to inform you that it's A Whole Thing. More info here: x, x, x, x, x, x)

Taylor Swift does have stalkers, and now she has a bunch of MAGA paramilitary conspiracy theorists absolutely furious with her. If I were her, I'd want to do every single thing I could to keep information on my movements and in-the-moment location off the internet, too

tl;dr: I don't necessarily think she cares about the environment, but I'm not mad at her for sending a cease and desist letter because I think without her extensive security, she would be in real danger now, including possibly danger of being killed by armed MAGA conspiracy theorists

You're allowed to be mad at her and dislike her (obviously!), you're allowed to totally disagree with my attitude toward the cease and desist. I just wanted to share my rationale for including the post (and it is something I went back and forth on tbh)

[tardis--dreams]

Me panicking because i have 9 missed calls and 5 emails talking about my absence and how "a colleague could take over for me" vs. Me knowing it's really not that important no matter how pushy a client is and that on top of it I'm underpaid and have way to much overtime so i shouldn't even care

[statisticalcats2]

Fort Worth Zoo has hit a bit of a hurdle in Jameela's rearing because the female they had hoped would be a surrogate mother for her just isn't interested enough so they're now focusing on another female in the troop.

There are people commenting on the above update making comments about like giving Jameela to Zookeeper Chad which is super annoying but there is a special type of humor in seeing this when I'm still so sure that Fort Worth Zoo had a subtle, plausibly deniable dig at Zookeeper Chad and Mogo Zoo in one of their initial posts about hand-rearing Jameela fgyeuiud

Anyway, the keepers at Fort Worth Zoo are doing great for Jameela and I have no additional worry for her future.

[cressidagrey]

It's a Love Story - Chapter 1

Summary:

Azriel's shadows find their master a wife.

Azriel would just really like his heart not to get broken again.

And Sky...well, she's just really surprised that that far too handsome male is interested in her at all.

Warning:

Rhys Bashing (as usual), I classified this as Azriel x OC, even when it't technically Azriel x Sellyn Drake (but we kinda know nothing about Sellyn Drake other than that she writes books so Sky is kinda an OC), Cassian is kinda a good guy for once, Azriel has a horrible time, as usual... Stuttering, toxic families (For once I do not mean the IC), Self-Esteem Issues, Secret Identity, Body Image Issues

If any of this triggers you or makes you uncomfortable, please take care of your own mental health and don't read it.

Koschei the Deathless Sorcerer was killed by the Spymaster of the Night Court. 

It was less dramatic than it sounded. At least Azriel thought so. 

And if Lucien hadn’t been a fucking idiot and put himself into a position to be kidnapped by the very same deathless sorcerer…then they wouldn’t even have been in that kind of situation. 

But he had been and so it ended with Azriel so magically exhausted that he collapsed the very same moment Truthteller stroke true once more. 

At least Koschei was slayn. 

And the only reason Azriel had gone to rescue the red-headed male in the first place was the fact that  Lucien was Elaine’s mate. Lucien was the male Elain loved. Azriel couldn’t let him die. 

Couldn’t let Elain feel the devastation of a mating bond broken by death…so his decision making had been quick. Either he would manage to get Lucien free…or he would die trying.  There wasn’t many things that he wouldn’t do for the female he loved. Even when he knew it shouldn’t be. 

Azriel had never been very good at knowing when enough was enough after all, wasn’t he?

No price was high enough to pay when it was about Elain’s happiness, as far as Azriel was concerned.  

He hadn't expected to wake up, and yet… there he was. Alive and whole.

*I hope it was worth it, Master,* the shadows sniped at him.

He blinked, taking in the dim light of the room, taking in the familiar surroundings. His room in the House of Wind.

“You are a fucking idiot, you know?” Cassian hissed at him from his place at his bedside and Azriel blinked at him.

"Lucien?" he brought out hoarsely.

"Not as much as a fucking scratch on him. Thanks to you," Cassian responded. "You on the other hand...Madja thought you were going to fucking die from pure magical exhaustion!"

Even Azriel he had...it would have been worth it. Lucien had made it out alive - and that was all that mattered in the end. Elain would be happy. That was all he cared about.

He didn't say that aloud though. 

He took a deep breath, opening his eyes again. "How long was I out?" he asked.

"Three days," Cassian growled. "Three. Days."

Azriel sat up slowly, wincing at the ache in his muscles. It felt like his entire body was one giant bruise, every inch of him pained and sore.

"Lay back down," Cassian snapped.

Azriel shot him a glare, but sank back onto the bed nonetheless. "I'm fine," he grumbled. "Just tired."

"Yeah, well, we'll let Madja be the judge of that," Cassian snapped. "And when you are feeling better, I am going to kill you for going off on your own!"

Azriel just gave him a weary look. "Better me than you," he said dryly. He closed his eyes, feeling a deep exhaustion settle over him. Cassian had Nesta to think about. Azriel didn't. Azriel just had himself.

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?!" Cassian demanded.

Azriel didn't have the energy to answer

He dosed off, feeling the shadows twine around him. They were muttering, words he could c quite understand, bitching under their breath but for once it was comforting.

He woke up, feeling groggy and disoriented. His eyes felt like sandpaper, and his limbs were heavy. He groggily blinked at the room, feeling like he was in a haze.

It took him a moment to realize he wasn't alone. Cassian was still there, as was Madja.

Azriel groaned, pushing himself up into a sitting position. His head was throbbing, and his vision was a little blurred. He rubbed his face, trying to clear the fog from his mind. "Hey," he said, his voice rough and gravelly.

Cassian and Madja both looked at him, their expressions relieved. "How are you feeling?" Madja asked him, moving closer to the bed and waving a hand in front of his face.

"Like I was hit by a wagon," Azriel admitted. His muscles felt tight and sore, his body heavy with fatigue. His wings felt like they were made of lead, and every movement took a huge effort.

"That's unsurprising considering you nearly magicked yourself to death," Madja said gruffly. "Your body had a tremendous amount of stress and strain put on it. You're lucky to be alive."

He gritted his teeth. "Yeah, well, I didn't have a lot of other options," he pointed out.

Madja just let out a huff and began prodding and poking at his body, running her hands over his wings and checking his pulse. Cassian watched anxiously from the side, his arms crossed over his chest.

Azriel bore her ministrations in silence, trying not to wince as she poked and prodded at him. He knew she was just trying to help, but it didn't make the ordeal any more pleasant.

After what felt like forever, she finally stepped back, nodding to herself. "You're lucky, shadowsinger," she said gruffly. "You're lucky you're so damn resilient," she said, and he couldn't tell if it was a compliment or just an observation.

He looked at her blearily. "I guess I can add that to my list of things to be proud of," he muttered sarcastically.

Cassian barked out a laugh, but Madja just rolled her eyes. The door opened at that moment. "How's he doing?" Rhys demanded.

Azriel wanted to let out a sigh at the sight of Rhys. He loved his brother, but he didn't have the energy for a lecture right now.

Madja turned to Rhys. "He's weak and he's stupid," she snapped. "But he's alive."

Rhys let out a sigh, the tension in his shoulders easing just a little. "Thank you, Madja," he said. "Would you...give us a moment?"

Madja nodded, patting Azriel's leg as she got up to leave. "Rest," she ordered. "And no strenuous activity for at least a week."

As soon as the door closed behind her, Rhys turned to Azriel. "What were you thinking?" he demanded, his eyes blazing.

"I was thinking that I was saving Lucien's life," Azriel replied evenly, meeting his brother's gaze. "I couldn't let him die, Rhys."

"Wouldn't that have made it easier for you?* Rhys demanded sharply mentally. *You are the one that fancies himself in love with Elain.*

Maybe it shouldn't hurt him as much as it did. He didn't fancy himself in love with her. He was in love with her. Had been in love with her and Rhys had been the one to order him away from her, which had given Lucien the opportunity to swoop in and Elain had...Elain had given in. Given in to that Siren Song of the Mating Bond and was very much in love with her mate now. 

It hurt to hear Rhys say it like that, like it was just some passing infatuation that he'd gotten over.

*Lucien is her mate,* he responded simply. He didn't say what he really thought. He didn't say that he would rather have Elain be happy and never talk with him again than to have her wilt like one of her flowers because her mate had died and the mating bond would be broken… He didn't say that he loved Elain enough, that her happiness was more important to him than anything else. He didn't say any of that.

*At least you are recognising that now,* Rhys said with a snort.  Azriel didn't flinch. Didn't react.

He hid away in that little corner of his brain he went to when everything became too much. Where he could just shut up all his feelings, all these pesky emotions, and just be...nothing. Nothing. That's the only thing he still had left.

He just shrugged, schooling his face into a careless expression. "I did what I had to do, Rhys," he repeated stubbornly. "Lucien is a good male. He didn't deserve to die."

"Elain wants to thank you," Rhys said suddenly.

Azriel's stomach twisted as Rhys mentioned Elain. He felt a pang of longing in his chest, a desperate ache to see her, to touch her, to hear her voice. But he knew he couldn't. He couldn't subject himself to the torture of seeing her with her mate, seeing her happy in Lucien's arms.

So his answer was definite: "There is no need for that," he said simply.

Rhys gave him a sharp look. "Don't be an idiot," he said gruffly. "She's been worried sick about you."

But Azriel just shook his head, even as his heart thudded in his chest.

*You can keep it together for 5 minutes,* Rhys snapped into his mind.

"Rhys," Cassian said carefully. "If he doesn't want to, just let it..."

"He's being ridiculous," Rhys snapped, interrupting Cassian. "Elain is family.”

Azriel grit his teeth but didn't respond. He didn't have the energy for an argument right now. He just wanted to sleep.

*See her for 5 minute snad then you can sulk like a spoiled child until you feel better about yourself,* Rhys bargained drily.

Azriel hesitated. He knew he should see her, knew that it would make things easier for everyone if he did. But the thought of seeing her, seeing her happy with Lucien when he was so miserable, was like a knife to the gut.

"Does it even matter what I want?" he asked, his voice flat.

Rhys let out a frustrated sigh, looking at him with exasperation. "Az, stop being so damned stubborn. Elain has been worried sick about you - the least you can do is let her see that you are alive."

Azriel didn't say anything. Didn't respond. He just stared at Rhys, feeling like every fiber of his being was being pulled apart. He wanted to see her. Wanted to see her more than anything. But he knew that once he saw her, he wouldn't be able to hold himself together. He would break. He would shatter into a thousand pieces.

"Just...come on, Az," Rhys said finally. "Let her see you. She needs to know you're alright."

Azriel knew he couldn't say no. Knew he couldn't hurt her like that. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. "Fine," he said softly. "But just for five minutes."

Five minutes. He could do five minutes. He had to. For her…

She was still as achingly beautiful as she always had been. These devasting brown eyes, the caramel curls...

Azriel's breath hitched at the sight of her, and he felt a wave of conflicting emotions wash over him. Love, longing, sadness, and that bittersweet pang of being so close to something he could never have.

Behave, Rhys warned him sharply.

He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. Trying to push back that wave of feelings that threatened to drown him. It was just five minutes, he reminded himself. Five minutes. He could do this.

The shadows swirled around him, welling up with intensity, shrouding much of his body in inky blackness and Elain flinched back from them.

She had never quite warmed up to them. Azriel was just thankful for that display, for keeping her away from him as she entered the room, Lucien on her heels.

"How...How are you feeling?" she asked him, her voice soft.

He could tell that she was worried, that she was concerned for him. It warmed something inside him, and he hated himself for it. 

"I'm fine," Azriel answered hoarsely.  "Just tired.

"I...thank you," Elain said softly, binting her lip. "If you hadn't...if you hadn't killed Koschei and freed Lucien...I...Thank you, Azriel."

Hearing her say his name again was like a punch to the gut. It was both a comfort and a torture, to be so close to her and yet so far away. He swallowed hard, biting back the words that threatened to spill out.

"You don't owe me any thanks," he said quietly. "I just did what had to be done."

"I do owe you my life," Lucien disagreed. "Thank you. Without your interference...I wouln't have survived, " he said flatly.

Azriel just shrugged, feeling a wave of bitterness wash over him. He had saved Lucien, had risked his life to save the male who was mated to the female he loved. It was a strange sort of irony.

"It's fine," he said roughly. "I'm just glad I got there in time."

He couldn't look at her. Couldn't look at Lucien. It hurt too much. So he stared at the floor, willing the shadows to consume him entirely.

"We are all just happy you are feeling alright," Elain said softly. "I...I was worried about you. Everyone was."

Azriel forced himself to look up at her, his heart clenching at the sincerity in her eyes. She really had been worried about him. "I'm alright," he promised her, his voice rough. "Really. I just need some rest."

Elain hesitated, taking a step forward. He could hear her heartbeat, could feel the warmth radiating off her skin. It was torture to be so close to her and yet so far away. It was torture to know that she was so close and yet so unattainable. He wanted to reach out, to touch her, to hold her, but he knew he couldn't. He held onto that last shred of reason he had.

She tugged a piece of hair behind one delicately arched ear...and that was the moment he saw the gold and pearl ring that decorated her ring finger.

"Congratulations." He wasn't sure how he even brought out these words...how he managed to make them sound...appropriately happy for her.

It took a herculean effort to say those words, to offer a smile that barely reached his eyes. Every fibre of his being was screaming in protest, yelling that he should have been the one giving her that ring, that he should have been the one by her side. But he pushed back those feelings, burying them deep down inside of himself. He couldn't let her see how he truly felt. He couldn't let her know how much it was tearing him apart to stand there and look at her. Look at her with her mate, with the male she loved, the one she had chosen. 

"Congratulation," he repeated, his voice a little rougher than before.

"It wouldn't have been possible without you," Elain said, with a smile.

Azriel just nodded, feeling a lump in his throat. He couldn't find the words to respond, couldn't find the words to express the tangle of emotions swirling inside of him. He just sat there, feeling more alone and isolated than he had in a long time.

Elain took another step in his direction, seemingly ready to reach out, but Cassian intercepted her. placing a gentle hand on Elain's shoulder. "He needs his rest," he said softly. "Let's leave him be for now."

Azriel felt a pang of gratitude towards Cassian. Elain hesitated, looking torn.

"I wish you every happiness," Azriel brought out his voice hoarsely. Not even a lie.  It was the frank truth in these words and Elain gave him a smile, before Lucien's hand came to rest at her lower back, guiding her out of the room.

Thank the cauldron. They were gone. 

He slumped back into the pillow.  He was falling apart. He was exhausted, emotionally and physically. He just wanted to be left alone, to lick his wounds in peace.

"Az..." Cassian said carefully, but he cut him off.

“I am tired,” Azriel said, his voice hoarse. “I need to sleep.”

The shadows swirled around him tighter. 

Rhys and Cassian exchanged a look, before Cassian nodded, "Alright," he said. "Get some rest."

He laid down properly, closing his eyes, calling the shadows to him wordlessly. They swamred around him immediately. Damn Near suffocating him.  It was the only thing that kept him from starting to sob.

The shadows embraced him, wrapping him in their inky blackness, shielding him from the outside world. They were his only comfort, just like they had been for centuries. 

*We are there, Master.* They promised him softly. *It will be fine, Master.*

He didn’t believe a fucking word they said. 

*We are not willing to lose you, Master. We aren’t interested in finding a new master,* they told him seriously. He choked out a laugh that turned into a sob. 

*Sleep, Master. We'll keep watch,* they promised him.

And they did. 

Bone deep exhaustion meant that at least his sleep was dreamless. At least that was given to him. It was a small mercy. 

When he woke up again, Nesta was there, sitting in an armchair reading.

Azriel blinked, feeling disoriented and groggy. He sat up slowly, wincing as his wounds protested the movement. Nesta looked up from her book, her expression neutral.

"How are you feeling?" she asked him quietly.

"Fine," he answered, his voice hoarse. He was fine. He would be fine. 

"Thank you," Nesta said suddenly.

Azriel looked up at her, surprised. He wasn't even sure what she was thanking him for.

"For what?" he asked, his voice rough with sleep.

“You nearly got yourself killed to save my sister’s mate. I think Thank you is the least I owe you," Nesta said drily.

She mustered him with grey eyes and he knew that she knew. Knew that she knew or at the very least could guess about his feelings for Elain and probably be right. She wouldn't say anything, but she knew.

He didn’t want to talk about this anymore. It was over with. Done. 

Lucien and Elain could be happy and Azriel…Azriel would hide away somewhere. 

"You don't owe me anything," he waved Nesta off weakly, but she didn’t seem to want to take the hint, sticking out her chin. 

"Yes, I do," Nesta disagreed. "You are the reason why my little sister is happy right now," she told him fiercely. He swallowed down the unkind words at the tip of her tongue...didn't say anything. Didn't.... He didn’t want to think about this. He didn’t…

"Is there anything I can do?" Nesta asked him, her voice soft. "Anything at all, Az?" H knew that he could ask for anything and Nesta would do her level best to give it to him. She was stubborn like that. He had half a mind to ask her to use her silver flames to put him on fire and put him out of his misery. 

He didn’t. 

Even that wouldn’t fix it. 

There was nothing. There was absolutely nothing to make it any better. There was nothing that could...that could fix the ache in his chest.

"Porridge," he said, his voice hoarse.

"Porridge?" Nesta repeated incrediously.

"Porridge with honey. I am hungry," he repeated, meeting her gaze. Food. Food. More Sleep. More Work. He could fill his waking hours with useless things and everybody would be happy. 

Nesta just looked at him for a moment, then inclined her head.

"Porridge with honey. Alright," she agreed. Just a moment later a massive bowl of Porridge with honey drizzled on top, appeared on his bedside table, so hot it was steaming. Seemed like the house was in a mood to spoil him. He even got a whiff of cinnamon from it.

"Thank you," he thanked Nesta's creature aloud as the shadows fetched the bowl and held it up for him to eat a spoonful. "What are you reading?" he asked Nesta, changing the topic. 

She was polite enough not to say anything about it. 

Nesta held up her book. “The newest Sellyn Drake novel,” she replied.

"Is it any good?" he inquired, stirring his porridge gently.

“It’s brilliant," Nesta gushed, her eyes devoured the pages as soon as she looked down to continue reading.

"You seem to really like it," he pointed out, taking another bite of his porridge. "It is brilliant," Nesta agreed readily. “The plot is so intricate and twists and turns and the characters are so deep and complex and their emotions are so real and the romance is so...” she trailed off, blushing slightly.

He opened his mouth to respond...but then he heard her.

Mor. Of course.

He couldn’t deal with Mor. Not right now. But there she was, Rhys hot on her heels.

Nesta heard her too, rolling her eyes, curling back up on her chair, making it very clear that while she was going nowhere, she was letting him deal with it on her own. 

And he didn’t want to deal with Mor. 

But there she was. 

Mor came strolling into the room, her usual confident smile firmly in place. Rhys just looked at Azriel, his expression unreadable.

He didn't say it.  But Azriel knew. Behave. That’s all Rhys was telling him these days.  Either it was about Elain and Lucien...or about Mor and Emerie. Like Azriel would ever do anything to put that in jeopardy. Like Azriel was a jealous child that wouldn't allow Mor to be happy on her own terms. Like...

Azriel ignored the sharp pang of hurt that shot through him at Rhys's look.

Still it was better than looking at Mor…he couldn’t bear to look at Mor. 

 Didn't want to look at Mor, in her usual bright red, skin baring dress, that clung to all her curves...didn't want to look at the female he had spent centuries in love with even when he had known that she was never going to return his affections...it hadn't helped him. He had still been in love with her.

And he had still hoped...hoped against all hope that maybe...maybe there would be a time where she would return his affection...that maybe there would be a time where...

But there wouldn't. He knew. He knew. And he had still been in love with her.

Would have given damn near anything for her attention, for that broad smile on her face to be directed in his direction...would have given anything for her to bound over to his bedside and envelope him in her arms...to feel her soft skin against his as she hugged him fiercely, cinnamon and citrus enveloping him.

Now...now it felt like somebody was pouring salt into a gaping wound. Now it felt as painful as the fire and oil on his hands had. She was flaying him alive and she wasn’t even aware that she was hurting him. 

"How are you feeling, Az?" Mor's voice was gentle, concerned. He knew it was genuine, knew that Mor really cared about him. But he couldn't bring himself to look at her. Not when his heart was bleeding out just from the sound of her voice.

"Fine," he answered, his voice flat. "Nothing that sleep won't fix," he promised her, even as her hands fluttered around him as she sat down on his bedside...

She was so close. He could reach out and touch her, could feel the soft fabric of her dress against his fingertips. He clenched his fists, willing himself to keep his hands to himself.

But he couldn't help it. He looked up at her, meeting her eyes. He could see the concern there, the worry. He felt a pang of guilt for putting that look on her face. He didn't want to cause her any distress. 

"I'm just glad you are feeling better," Mor sighed, gently patting his arm. "You had us all worried for a moment there," she admitted softly.

Even just the touch of her hand felt like she was branding him. He wanted to flinch away and forced himself no to.

It was like a bittersweet poison, the way she touched him. It was so familiar, so comforting. But it was also so painful, a reminder of what he could never have.

He looked away, staring down at his hands. They were shaking, just a little. He clasped them together, the monstrous scars that covered them, standing out starkly.

The shadows trembled around him, pulling nearer, growing darker and Mor watched them with a raised eyebrow. "Worried, are they?" she teased him slightly.

*You are fine, Master,* the shadows promised him. *No more fire,* they promised him fiercely. But it didn’t help. He didn’t trust himself to speak without his voice cracking.

Mor seemed to sense his discomfort and stood up, her hand slipping from his arm. "Just rest and get better soon, alright?" she said softly, taking a step back.

"Thank you," he thanked her, his voice hoarse.

He risked a glance up at her, just a quick look. Her face was soft, her eyes filled with warmth. He felt his heart squeeze in his chest and he had to look away again. He wasn't sure how much more of this he could take.

"We should let him rest, Mor," Rhys said, giving Azriel another look.

"Right, right," Mor agreed, already turning towards the door. "Rest up, Az," she said again, giving him one last smile as she disappeared out the door.

Azriel felt a sense of relief wash over him as she left the room. 

Gone. Thank the cauldron. He couldn't take much more of her presence, not right now. 

He didn't even want to know why Rhys had accompanied her. Probably because he was worried that Azriel wasn't going to behave.

What was he supposed to do instead? Tell Mor about how much she had hurt him over the centuries? How she had given him jut enough scraps of her affection to make him yearn for more but never telling him that she didn’t love him like that? 

He wasn’t going to do that. 

He didn't want to look at Rhys right now, didn't want to face the scrutiny of his high lord's gaze. He just wanted to be left alone.

He knew that Rhys was watching him, that the male wanted to say something. But Azriel didn't want to hear it. He didn't want to hear the lecture, the warning. He just wanted to be left alone.

The room fell silent, except for the sound of his own breathing. He closed his eyes and sank deeper into the mattress. Maybe if he just pretended to sleep, Rhys would leave him alone.

"He's tired. You should let him sleep," Nesta said flatly.

Leave it to Nesta to tell Rhys to stuff it, he reflected weakly. He heard Rhys sigh, but he kept his eyes closed. And after a moment, he heard the sound of footsteps leaving the room.

He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding, feeling a wave of relief wash over him. 

Alone. Safe. Mostly at least. 

Life went on. It always did.

The exhaustion went away after a few days... he caught up on Paperwork in the meantime. He sent the shadows off to find him one information or other and they didn't even bitch to him that badly, which told him that even they felt bad for him.

Behave. That’s all Rhys was telling him these days.

So he did. He behaved.

He did his job. He did everything Rhys could possibly want from his spymaster. 

He didn’t argue. He didn’t fight. He did his job and he trained and he did everyhting that was expected off him. 

And then he hadn’t tortured himself enough… and he went to visit Rosehall.

Where his mother lived.

Under the Mountains had it’s own kind consequences. This was one of them: His mother didn’t even want to talk to him anymore. 

50 years without him...and his mother had made herself a new family. A family that he wasn’t welcome in. A family that she wanted him nowhere near. He couldn’t fault her for it. Not at all.

She had been half a child when she had had him and it hadn’t been by choice.

So who could blame her for making a new family with people that weren’t as fucked up in the head as he was? Not Azriel.

Azriel didn’t blame her at all. Azriel left her in peace. He didn't reach out. He made sure that she was fine, that she had enough money to never worry about it and otherwise dissappeared from her life. 

His shadows kept an eye on her…He shored up the wards around Rosehall and caught a glimpse of her. And then he left it at that. She looked happy. That’s all he cared about.

Happy and safe and…she didn’t need him. She didn’t want him around her either, and he could understand that too.

And still, it hurt. It hurt so fucking much. 

But 

*You know the rules,* he told the shadows quietly. *You don’t need to report to me about her anymore. Keep an eye on her and only tell me if she is in danger or hurt.*

*Yes, Master,* they agreed readily. 

So he went back to the House of Wind. Back to Velaris…Back to work. 

He went back to his routine, back to his duties, back to his mask of indifference. He hid the pain behind his usual stoic facade, only letting his shadows know how much it hurt. He threw himself into his work, using it as a way to distract himself from his own loneliness.

And when he wasn't working, he would spend hours and hours in the training ring in the House of Wind, working himself to exhaustion. Anything to try and drown out the ache in his heart.

For gods sake, he even attended Elain and Lucien’s mating ceremony. And gifted them an appropriate gift. He behaved just like Rhys wanted him too.

He even summoned up a smile for them on their special day, hiding his own pain behind a mask of false happiness. He congratulated them both, feeling a pang in his chest at the sight of Elain's beaming face. But he didn’t let it show. He behaved. Like Rhys wanted him too.

He stayed for the whole thing. Stayed for the dancing, stayed for the feast. Stayed until he could physically take it no more. And then he had retreated to that training ring again, beating his pain and loneliness out on whatever dummy he could find.

He was so tired. Tired of hiding, tired of pretending. Tired of pretending like nothing was wrong. He wanted nothing more than to just scream and rage and shout and cry. But he didn’t. He held it all in. Bottled it up like he was so good at doing.

He was in the bathtub, sluicing off the sweat he was drenched in…shaking off his wings just because he could move them however he wanted to

*You should go out, Master,* the shadows suggested seriously. *Go out and find a female.*

He just snorted. *Not interested,* he sniped back harshly. *I am not getting my heart broken again.*

Everybody could just fuck off and leave him alone. Even when he was aching…aching for somebody in his life that loved him. For whom he could be everything. Somebody he could dote on. Somebody that wanted his attention, that wanted his love…that would like his ruined hands on their body and wasn’t paid to simply acccept it. 

*You could let us pick her!* the shadows suggested brightly.

His eyes snapped back open and he glared at the shadows swirling around the room. *Absolutely not,* he said firmly. *I mean it, you stay out of it.*

*We can’t do a worse job than you do,* they sniped at him. *Neither The Seer nor The Morrigan would have suited you at all.*

*Excuse me?!* 

*You heard us, Master,* the shadows said, sounding far too smug for their own good. *And you know it.*

Azriel just glared at them, feeling his temper start to rise. *I know I wasn’t good enough for them,* he snapped. *You don’t need to tell me that.*

*You think you weren’t good enough for them?!* The shadows asked him incredulously.

*They deserve better. So much better than me,* he said quietly. "I'm not good enough for either of them. Never was.*

What was he, after all? An Illyrian bastard? A monster? Either? Both? 

He had never said it out loud before, not even to himself. But in that moment, lying in the water, his heart so raw and exposed, he couldn't help but speak the truth that he had always known but never admitted to himself. "I'm not good enough for either of them," he repeated softly, the weight of his words settling heavily on his chest.

He knew it was true. Mor was a golden ray of light, the embodiment of beauty and grace. Elain was sweet and gentle and kind, a pure soul in a sea of darkness. 

And what was he? Damaged. Broken. Scarred. Inside and out.

He had done unspeakable things, things that would haunt his nightmares for centuries to come. He was nothing compared to them. He was darkness, they were light. And they deserved better than him, far better than him.

Even if he had loved Mor with every fiber of his being, even if he had yearned for her with every beat of his heart, even if he had dreamed of her every night, it didn't matter. It had never mattered. Because he wasn't good enough for her. And he never would be.

He wasn’t good enough for Elain. The mother hadn’t thought it to be prudent to make them mates. Both of his brother had been gifted with a mating bond, but not him. That should tell him everything he needed to know abotu the state of his own soul. 

So why…why should he even try anymore. 

Why shouldn’t he just stew in his own misery, alone and heartbroken and a monster and expect everybody to just leave him alone? There was no point of putting himself out there again. There was nothing out there for him. Nothing but more pain.​​

So he closed his eyes again, sinking lower into the water, letting the warmth soothe his aching muscles. He let out a long sigh, his mind already racing with thoughts of his next missions, his next assignments. Because that was all that really mattered now. His job. His duties. His responsibilities. That was all he had left.

Behave. That’s all he was good for. 

*Alright, that’s fucking enough,* the shadows snapped. *You are not letting The High Lord talk to you like that any longer, Master.*

Azriel was so surprised by their fucking vehemence that he could just stare at them. 

*The Morrigan used you for centuries to make herself feel better about herself,* the shadows snapped. *She used the feelings you had for her and that she was very much aware of to strangle you and keep you in line.*

Azriel swallowed. He knew they were right. He knew that Mor had used his feelings for her for a long time. She had led him on, given him false hope, only to yank it away time and time again. It had been a painful cycle, one that had left him feeling used and broken and worthless.

*She could have stopped at any time but she never did,* the shadows hissed. *But instead she hurt you on purpose. Instead of turning you down, she slept with other males to show you that you would never have her!*

Azriel felt bile rise in the back of his throat. Mor had flaunted her other lovers in front of him, making it clear that he would never be enough for her. She had used his devotion to her as a weapon against him, wielding it whenever it suited her needs. And he had let her. He had been foolish, desperate enough to cling onto any scrap of affection she might throw his way.

*And The Seer?! Granted she has never done that, but her feelings for you weren’t particular deep when she replaced you on her affections with The Fox as soon as you weren’t available anymore! If she had cared, truly cared, she would have thought about what happened during Winter Solstice,* the shadows snapped.

*And The High Lord? Don’t even let us get started on him,* the shadows snapped. *You haven’t even done anything since that Winter Solstice, and he keeps behaving like some kind of despotic Overlord, worried that his orders won’t be followed. If you wanted to punch him in the face, you probably had every right to it,* they mumbled.

Azriel couldn’t help but snort. 

*You deserve better, Master,* The shadows told him fiercely. *You deserve somebody that loves you.* 

. He wanted to believe the shadows. He wanted to believe that he was good enough, that he deserved more. But the scars on his body and the memories in his mind told him otherwise. He had done terrible things, things that he could never undo. How could someone like that be good enough for anyone?

*Alright,* he finally agreed weakly. *Find me a house,* he told the shadows, as he closed his eyes.

*A house? What kind of house?* the shadows gave back, sounding surprised.

*A house,* he repeated. *A home. Somewhere in Velaris. Find me a home.* Something that could just be his.

A home. The idea sent a flutter through his stomach. He had never…never truly had a home. Had something that could just be his and nobody else’s. Just…a place that was his, where he could be whoever he wanted, where he was accepted and loved...it was appealing. Maybe even more than just appealing.

He closed his eyes, picturing it in his mind. A cozy little house, just large enough for himself. Warm and cozy and filled with light.

*That’s what a male needs to take a wife after all, right?* He asked, a flicker of uncertainty crossed his face. Was that what he should want? What he was supposed to want? He had never really thought about getting married before. But now, at the mention of it, he couldn't help but feel a pang of longing. A wife...a family...love and companionship. It all sounded so…so nice.

*You want to get married, Master?* the shadows asked curioulsy. *To whom?*

*You pick,* he told the shadows. They swarmed out in pure excitment. Azriel couldn’t even remmeebr the last time they had been so excited. 

He couldn't help but chuckle at their reaction. Maybe they would do a better job than him. At least they could probably sieve out females that were in a romantic relationship or preferred females themselves. 

*Find me somebody that I could make happy. Somebody that….Somebody that could want me.* Some long-suffering female for whom Azriel could maybe try to be enough. Somebody that would love him.

*What should she look like?* they asked seriously.

*I don’t care. Find me somebody that loves me and she’ll be the most beautiful female to me anyway.*

[thevoidstaredback]

Okay, so, crisis averted. Both of them, really. Red Robin had not asked or attempted to get any more of Danny's drink and the World Ending Crisis was less World Ending and more World Threatening. Either way, no one is hyped up in lethal amounts of caffeine and the world is in no more pieces than it had been before.

That brings attention to a new problem, though. It's uniquely Danny's problem and Constantine and Zatanna and Deadman won't stop laughing at him. He's also pretty sure that Raven is laughing at him in the privacy of her mind, so that's making him feel worse.

The problem is that every single hero that had been at the meeting a week ago that was not a part of the JLD has been overly concerned about him.

So what if he half died when he was fourteen and therefore will never look over either fourteen or eighteen? So what if he consumes enough caffeine to kill an elephant within a few minutes? What is he gonna do, die? That's not a real threat as long as he only fights as Phantom.

Ignoring the fact that he can, in fact, get hurt to the point of near death as Phantom. It's not like anyone knows that, though! Besides, ghosts run on god rules. They can't die, only fade when forgotten. People aren't likely to forget about most ghosts, though, even if they can't remember their names.

He's not gonna share that, though. Let Batman keep his contingency that won't work because the only contingency that will work for Phantom is the one he made himself. Tried and tested! He's marked it off of his Bingo Card.

Anyway. Heros and their kids/proteges have been trying to track him down for the entire week. He can't risk even leaving the House of Mysteries because the Supers are all probably listening out for him and they can't hear him through magic. It sucks. He just wants to go get a cup of coffee as Danny. The second he leaves, though, the Supers will be on him like bloodhounds. He'd leave as Danny, but the rest of the JLD don't know what he looks like as Danny and he'd like to keep it that way, thank you very much. Being stuck as Phantom was going to start causing issues to his human half if he doesn't get to leave soon.

Should he risk it? Is coffee that won't kill him really worth risking the Supers finding out his civilian identity? Sure, they wouldn't tell anyone, but he didn't like the idea of someone being able to pick him out of a crowd when all he wanted to do was blend in. It's why he avoided Gotham and Bludhaven, actually, but that's both self explanatory and another story for another time.

"You're still here?" Zatanna sat on the couch beside him. "You're normally gone by now. You can't not be tired of us yet."

He sighed and sunk down into the couch slightly. "Believe me, I'm tired of being stuck here, but I can't leave. I can't leave as a human because you guys don't know what I look like and, no offense, but I'd like to keep it that way. I can't leave as I am now because Superman will be on my ass quicker than I can blink!" He whined this time, "I just want a cup of coffee."

"What about your special brew?" Raven asked, coming into the room.

"I want to drink coffee as a human. That stuff will kill me if I drink it as a human."

"At least you know your limits."

"That sounded like a dig at someone, Z."

"It was."

"Why don't you just go out under a protection spell?" Raven offered, "We could cast one over you and you could leave. Superman can't hear through magic, so he won't be able to tell. Neither will Superboy."

Danny thought for a second. "You're a genius, Raven! Has anyone ever told you that?"

"A few times," she blushed.

"Well, it needs to be said more!"

Zatanna laughed. "Alright, kid, let's get you outside before you drive yourself crazy."

Practically vibrating in place, Danny waited for the protection spell to settle over him. The second it did, he was out the door and wandering the streets of whatever city the House of Mysteries decided to drop him as Danny instead of Phantom.

"Who are you," was not the question or voice he wanted to hear the second he stepped into the open as himself.

"Danny," he squeaked out through his absolute panic. He didn't dare turn around.

The sound of fabric moving minutely clues him in to the second person behind him. What the hell were these two doing out? It's the middle of the day and there's no attacks going on anywhere in Gotham!

"Where did you come from?" Robin asked.

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit! This was really bad! Why did the House drop him *here* of all places? Does it *want* him to die again? It was very painful the first time, thank you very much! "Illinois?"

"Was that a question or an answer?" Why is Red Robin here now?!

"An-an answer?"

"Ah, you guys are scaring the little guy!" That was Nightwing. They're surrounding him! Why is Nightwing here? This is Gotham, not Bludhaven. "Give him some room to breathe."

They did not, in fact, give him room to breathe. Maybe coming outside was a bad idea. If he gets out of this no more dead than he already was, he was going to move to the middle of nowhere and become a hermit. Smallville is a town in the middle of nowhere, right? He'll retire as Phantom and move to Smallville until the people get suspicious and burn him as a witch-!

Maybe moving to a big city would be a better idea. Or locking himself in the basement of the House of Mysteries. Yeah, yeah that's a good idea.

"-even listening?"

Oh shit. They were still talking to him! Now is not the time to panic! "Gottagobye!" And then he was running.

Good job not panicking, Danny.

Part 1 Part 3

[neferaskingdom]

♡ Not a Golfer, Just a Guy in Love | CL16

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader [Face Claim: None]

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Summary: Charles has no business on a golf course, but he’s willing to lose every ball (and his dignity) if it means getting her attention

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check out my other works: Masterlist

Carlos leaned back in his chair, idly spinning a golf ball between his fingers as he glanced at you with a grin. “Alright, hermana, tomorrow morning? New golf course, 9 AM sharp?”

You laughed, rolling your eyes. “Carlos, we both know you’ll show up at least fifteen minutes late.”

“Not this time!” he declared. “This course is legendary. Plus, you need the practice.”

“Oh, so now I’m the one who needs practice?” You shot him a look, raising an eyebrow. “Last time, I recall someone missing the hole five times in a row.”

Lando snickered from across the table, catching the end of the conversation. “Five times, Carlos? At this rate, maybe I should join to show you both how it’s done.”

Carlos threw him a mock glare. “Fine, come along, then. Just don’t cry when I show you up.”

“Sure thing, mate,” Lando replied, folding his arms with a smirk.

Charles, sitting nearby and pretending to read a magazine, couldn’t help but eavesdrop. He tried to keep his cool, but every time you were around, it was a little harder than he’d like to admit. And now here you were, laughing and planning a whole day with Carlos and Lando.

He cleared his throat, stepping over as casually as he could manage. “Hey, so… golf tomorrow, huh?”

Carlos looked up, surprised. “Yep. Why?”

“I was just, uh, thinking,” Charles replied, trying to keep his voice steady. “Maybe I could join you guys.”

Carlos exchanged a glance with Lando, one eyebrow raised. “You? play golf?”

“Yes, I want to play golf,” Charles said, trying to sound like he wasn’t feeling a bit defensive.

Lando let out a small laugh. “Didn’t you once call golf ‘slow torture’?”

“That was a joke,” Charles shot back. “I’m serious. I want to come.”

Carlos looked skeptical. “Right… I mean, you’re welcome, but don’t blame us if it doesn’t go well.”

Charles shrugged, keeping his face neutral. “I’ll be fine.”

The next morning, Charles showed up at the course looking like he’d just stepped out of a golf magazine—crisp polo, checkered pants, even a visor.

Lando barely stifled a laugh. “Who let you dress for the occasion?”

Charles ignored him, glancing over at you. You shot him a smile, making the whole get-up feel somewhat worth it. “I, uh, thought I’d try to look the part.”

Carlos shook his head, trying to hide a grin. “Alright, Lord Percival, let’s see if you can play the part too.”

Charles rolled his shoulders, looking toward the first hole with as much focus as he could muster. He approached the tee, adjusted his grip, tried to channel every golf tip he’d seen on youtube last night—and took the shot.

The ball barely moved, skittering a few feet in front of him.

Lando’s laugh echoed through the course. “Great form, mate. Maybe take a little less ‘concentration’ next time?”

Carlos clapped a hand over his mouth to stifle a laugh.

Charles clenched his jaw, trying to maintain what little dignity he had left. “It was just the first shot,” he muttered. “Just warming up.”

The next hole wasn’t any better. Charles lined up the shot with as much precision as possible, determined not to make a fool of himself this time.

He swung with a bit too much force—the ball shot out in the wrong direction, rocketing just past Carlos, who ducked, wide-eyed.

Carlos straightened up, hands on his hips as he shot Charles a look. “Are you trying to kill me, or is this your idea of revenge for something?”

Charles cringed, face flushed. “That one… got away from me.”

Lando was practically doubled over, wiping tears from his eyes. “A little? That ball was gunning for Carlos’s head!”

You, meanwhile, gave Charles an encouraging smile. “Hey, at least you’re putting a lot of power into it.”

Charles managed a small, sheepish smile. “Right. Just need to aim better.”

By the third hole, Charles was already looking worse for wear. Sand stuck to his pants, his hair was a mess from the visor, and he’d lost count of how many near-misses he’d had.

Carlos nudged Lando, grinning. “Maybe we should get him a map, just so he can find the right direction.”

“Or a helmet for the rest of us,” Lando added, smirking.

Charles let out a low groan, feeling more than a little defeated. “You two are hilarious,” he muttered, pulling his visor off and running a hand through his hair.

You gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “Hey, you’re doing fine. Just… maybe think about where you want the ball to go before you swing.”

“Trust me, I am,” he muttered, his voice barely audible. But the look you gave him was enough to pull a half-smile from him. He was feeling like an absolute disaster out here, but somehow, your encouragement made it all seem less embarrassing.

On the final hole, Charles finally managed to get a decent shot in… except that it went straight for the trees, ricocheted off a branch, and landed almost exactly where it had started.

Carlos was in tears. “Charles, Lord Percival, please stop. I don’t think I can handle any more of this.”

Lando patted Carlos on the back, barely holding back his laughter. “Maybe golf really is slow torture for him.”

Charles sighed, looking down at the golf club in defeat. He glanced over at you, feeling thoroughly embarrassed.

But you just grinned, nudging his arm. “You know what, I think i've had enough golf for one day”

He looked at you, blinking. “Wait, really?”

You nodded, looking at Carlos and Lando, who were now fully engrossed in trash-talking each other’s swings. “Yep. And since they’re busy, maybe we should… escape?”

His expression brightened. “Escape?”

“Yeah,” you replied, shooting him a playful look. “We could go get ice cream or something and leave them to their nonsense.”

Charles chuckled, offering you his arm. “Now that sounds like something I can actually do.”

You and Charles settled on a bench a little away from the green, watching Carlos and Lando trying to one-up each other’s swings. The peacefulness of the ice cream break was a much-needed relief after Charles’s disastrous attempt at playing, and the two of you chuckled quietly as Carlos threw his arms up dramatically over a missed shot.

After a few moments, you glanced at Charles, breaking the silence. “So, be honest… why’d you really want to come today?”

He looked startled, caught in the middle of a spoonful. “What—me?” he stammered, almost dropping his ice cream. “I mean… golf looked… fun?”

You raised an eyebrow, an amused smile tugging at your lips. “Golf looked fun?”

“Okay,” he admitted, letting out a nervous laugh. “Maybe it’s not exactly my thing.”

“Not exactly?” you teased. “Charles, I’m pretty sure you nearly took Carlos out on the second hole. It’s okay to say you’re not a golf person. especially since in all the years I've known you I’ve never seen you voluntarily pick up a golf club before today”

He blushed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, well… it’s more than just that.”

“Oh?” You tilted your head, waiting for him to go on.

Charles seemed to wrestle with himself, glancing away and then back at you, his cheeks a little pinker. “It’s just… I always see you out here with Carlos and thought, maybe if I… tagged along, we’d get to… you know… hang out a bit.”

You stared at him, surprised. “You… wanted to come just to spend time with me?”

He gave a small, almost embarrassed smile, nodding. “Yeah. Kind of.”

A blush crept over your cheeks. You looked down at your ice cream, trying not to grin too obviously. “You didn’t have to put yourself through this just for that, you know,” you said softly, glancing back at him.

Charles fumbled, looking even more awkward. “I didn’t know what else to do… You’re always out here with Carlos. And, I don’t know, I thought maybe… if I didn’t make a complete fool of myself, you’d… notice.”

You laughed softly, heart fluttering a bit at the admission. “Trust me, I noticed.” You paused, gathering your thoughts. “But honestly… I’m only here because Carlos insists. He’d drag me out here even if I showed up in pajamas.”

He looked at you, surprised. “Wait—you don’t even like golf?”

You shook your head, grinning. “Not at all. But he acts like I’ll be abandoning him if I say no.”

Charles blinked, looking a bit stunned. “So you’re telling me I didn’t have to go through all of… this?” He gestured to the course in mock agony, earning a laugh from you.

“Not even a little bit,” you said, nudging him. “If I’d known you wanted to hang out, we could’ve done something… less painful.”

He let out a sigh, putting his head in his hands with a dramatic groan. “Great. So I’ve made a total fool of myself and I didn’t even have to.”

You giggled, gently patting his shoulder. “You’re not a fool. Just… maybe a bit misguided.” You took a breath, glancing at him shyly. “But… it’s kind of sweet that you went through all this just to spend time together.”

He looked at you with a mix of hope and nerves. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You felt your heart pound a little faster, fighting the urge to look away. “I mean, it’s… actually really cute.”

Charles seemed to brighten, his smile turning a bit bashful. “I’m glad you think so. Because, well… I was actually kind of hoping… maybe we could do something else? Just the two of us?”

Your heart flipped, and you felt yourself flush. “Like… a date?”

Charles swallowed, his face a deep shade of pink, but he met your gaze. “Yeah. A date.”

A smile spread across your face, and you nudged him gently. “I’d like that.”

He grinned, looking so relieved you couldn’t help but laugh. “Just promise it won’t involve golf?” he asked, giving you a playful, hopeful look.

“Deal,” you replied, grinning. “Maybe next time, we can do something we’re both good at.”

As you both sat there, sharing quiet laughs and stealing glances at each other, Carlos and Lando’s loud arguing over putts became just background noise. For the first time all day, Charles felt like maybe things were going exactly the way they were supposed to.

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[kiragecko]

Story Idea

Telekinetic supervillain who REALLY loves historical architecture. Living in a superhero universe where heroes keep crashing through stained glass windows and leveling entire streets. As well as the normal corruption causing building to be demolished or “restored” in extremely destructive ways.

Kinda has Poison Ivy vibes, without any of the femme fatale trappings - her entire focus is preserving historical valuable buildings, and she doesn’t really care if humans that get in the way die. But she also isn’t going out of her way to kill people.

And the leader of the local superhero team can see where she’s coming from. And decides that just throwing her in jail every time she acts up is a sign they’re failing in their duty to protect the city. Instead, he starts trying to gain her trust. He doesn’t care that much about buildings, but he works on lessening his team’s collateral damage. He promises the supervillain that he’ll try to pressure the city government if she brings problems to him rather than taking them into her own hands. Eventually, he convinces her that she can protect the city’s infrastructure better by being on his team than she can on her own.

She’s incredibly helpful! She will keep burning buildings from collapsing until everyone can get out and the fire is extinguished. She’ll hold skyscrapers up while supervillains reign destruction down around them. She’ll deconstruct traps and grumpily direct her teammates towards the hidden mastermind who set them up. And when the crisis is over, she’ll see what can be salvaged and rebuild it if possible.

But she’s a PR nightmare.

Former Supervillain refuses to help people. She DOES NOT care. Your kid is trapped in the burning building? That is not her problem. Go bother someone else. Dude is holding a bunch of people hostage? It’s fine, he’s not causing any damage to the building he’s in.

People DO NOT like this attitude. People do not accept that she’s part of a team, and other heroes are capable of filling the “empathy” and “human rescuing” gaps.

And she’s high maintenance! The team frequently end up in situations where protecting lives is in conflict with protecting property. They take missions that mean very little to them, because they’re important to her. And the leader is constantly having to talk her out of rampages, pressuring the government to drop lucrative and unethical contracts, and making sure she’s sticking to the plan in the field. And she isn’t interested in interpersonal relationships or social niceties, so none of them are even doing this out of friendship!

-

Sometimes, you help someone not because they’ll be grateful, but because it will make your community better. Sometimes, you help the local drug addict not because he’s likely to turn his life around, but because he smashes less windows when he has a warm, quiet space to stay. And sometimes, keeping that community benefit takes a long term commitment.

I want to see a superhero team turn a villain as harm prevention and then willingly bear the cost of keeping that villain from causing harm. Not because it’s rewarding (though there are rewards) but because it’s more effective than any other method. And I want the villain to go along with it because the heroes actually found a more efficient way for her to reach her goals.

And it being messy for everyone, but I want them to make it work. And it to be worth it, in the end.

[anthotneystark]

Well, if you're rough and ready for love (Honey, I'm tougher than the rest)

(edit: now on ao3!)

Eddie is suffering.

It’s hardly the first time, but it’s self-inflicted this time. At least it’s not going to physically almost kill him like the bats did.

Emotionally, sure, but not physically. That has to be some kind of win.

“Did you get Vecna’d? Do I have to get my trumpet? I don’t know if you can play Metallica on a horn, but I’ll try if you need me to.”

“Buckley, I would pay money to see you attempt it,” he says absently, his gaze never moving.

“Good, I could use the bonus.”

“Probably a good time to say I’ve only got Monopoly money.”

“Damn, there goes that plan.”

He hums an agreement, startling a moment later when a hand is suddenly blocking his view.

“Stop drooling, it’s not attractive.”

“Nothing about me is attractive to you.”

“Fair, but still. Ew,” she snorts.

“It’s not my fault, I can’t help it. He’s just so….” He doesn’t even have a word for it, so he just sighs.

“Who would have thought. Mr. Anti-Conformity drooling over Jock Extraordinaire. He’s wearing pastels. What have you become?”

“Shut up, he’s your platonic soulmate.”

“He is. And I love him. I just also know that he’s all sporty and preppy.”

“He can be as sporty as he wants as long as he keeps wearing those shorts he had on the other day.”

“Gross.”

“Even you can admit he looked good.”

“Sure, but you’re drooling again.”

He should be allowed a little drool. Steve had looked so biteable.

“He’s not even wearing shorts today, it’s too cold for that, doofus.” It was. Summer had well and truly turned into fall. Shorts had been replaced by jeans (except on the days Steve and Lucas played basketball, then the shorts came back out), polos more often than not were exchanged for sweaters, and by god, it was kissing him even more than the shorts and tank tops of summer had.

(This is without even considering the extreme number of shirts that Steve had sacrificed to become half shirts “for more air flow, because I can’t just walk around shirtless, obviously.” Because it was obvious. Showing his chest was too much, but the soft skin of his stomach, interrupted by the trail of dark hair vanishing under his waist band, wasn’t too much. Obviously.)

It made no sense. It shouldn’t have been worse with less skin showing. But it was because somehow, knowing that the soft knit of those sweaters was covering slowly paling skin, strong muscles and that beautiful, amazing layer of softness that rounded out hard edges…well, it completely ruined his train of thought until he couldn’t remember where he’d been going originally.

Worth it, just getting to imagine how Steve looked under his clothes.

“He’s worn this stuff before, why does it have you in a coma today?” Robin sighs, put upon even though it was her decision to sit with him.

“His hair.” Because that was the kicker today. Because Steve Harrington had never walked outside looking less than completely perfect.

Because Steve somehow managed to look amazing even roughed up and dirty.

Because Stevie was comfortable with himself and picked the clothes he liked and didn’t bother hiding scars that only proved how far he’d be willing to go to protect his loved ones and didn’t care about if he didn’t look perfect.

“He didn’t style it.”

“I can see how you’d get that impression, but I assure you he did.”

“What?!” That makes Eddie finally look at her, nearly falling over where he’s sat.

“Yeah. It’s just not hairspray. He’s trying something new.”

“It works for him.” The response is automatic. Because it’s true. Because poofed up and closer to god could only work on someone as pretty as Steve, and gunked up and water-logged could only work on someone as pretty as Steve, and bedhead could only look that good on someone as pretty as Steve.

Steve is just. So pretty.

But today, today it’s not firmly in place, soft even if it’s not going to move from it’s position. Today it’s not slicked back with water as he pops up from under it to splash one of the kids. Today it’s not half flat from where he slept on it, the same side he’ll leave pressed into Eddie’s shoulder if he’s not quite ready to start the day.

Today, it’s soft, curling around his ears, over his forehead, fluttering in the wind. It’s not the same kind of curly that his own hair is, the chaotic kind that if he tried to brush it, it’d eat the brush. It’s gentler, and he desperately wants to touch it.

“Seriously, I’m worried about your brain right now.”

“My brain is fine.”

“Close your mouth then.” Well, that’s embarrassing. He tosses a glare at her, and it’s just enough time to miss Steve heading their way. He does fall over where he’s sitting this time, but it’s so worth it because it makes Steve laugh.

He’d do an embarrassing amount of things to hear that laugh.

“You okay?” Steve asks, looking so fond and amused at Eddie’s antics that it makes his heart skip a beat.

It’s still surprising, having that look aimed at him, getting it from Steve.

“Fear not, Sir Stevington, I will survive,” he says, pushing himself up dramatically. Steve’s eyes crinkle as he snorts another laugh, and they both ignore Robin quietly bleching.

“Yeah? Good. I’d hate to see you get through everything just to get taken out by your own theatrics,” Steve says. Eddie doesn’t even have time to react – Steve’s smiling and that always slows him down – when his gorgeous, beautiful friend pulls off that pale green sweater and presses it into Eddie’s hands.

“Don’t get cold on me, alright? I saw you shivering,” he says, like he hasn’t just ruffled his own hair once more and completely distracted all of Eddie’s thoughts in the blink of an eye.

And then he’s gone, off to give another attempt at skateboarding (trying to follow Max’s instructions and letting her laugh at him when she hears him fall before she does whatever trick it is perfectly even without her sight), and Eddie is left standing there, watching that perfect, broad back covered by a too tight tee shirt.

“This is a whole new level of pathetic, I think.”

“Shup it,” Eddie says, then freezes, feels her shit-eating grin growing. “Shut up!” He groans.

She can laugh all she wants, he decides, pulling Steve’s sweater over his head. It’s warm with his body heat, smells like his soap and his cologne and him.

She can laugh, he’s got a beautiful boy to watch, one who looks at him with a promise of what’s to come, when the time is right.

[evilminji]

You Know How There Are Those AU? Where SUPER Injured Ghosts Need To Retreat To Their Core?

No one seems to be USING that to its fullest potential! For SHENANIGANS! Because! Who?? Could POSSIBLY carry a Halfa's Core safely... but another Halfa?! A FULL ghost would KILL them. A human would be killed! What terribly precarious peril we find ourselves in! Oh nooooooo!

Well, no worry!

As much as Dani fuckin HATES this. That there is her brother. Her Template. Her Clone Daddy and Bestest of Bros. Like HECK she's gonna let him suffer for centuries and possibly DIE. She can take it, Doc! Pop him in! We'll go road tripping and-

What do you MEAN "No"?

Unstable??! Of course she's unstable! But the-.... Oh.

Turns OUT? Dani? Can hitch a ride in DANNY for Emergency Medical Aid... but NOT the other way around. Her body is too loosely held together. He would parasiticly consume her from within. Instead of feeding off her Ecto System like injured ghosts are supposed too, because she's a CLONE? AND an unstable one at that? His Core would just... see her body as free ectoplasm. All of it.

He'd eat her.

Which mean Frostbite can not and WILL NOT allow that.

But he's HURT! That big, off screen, cataclysmic Fight To Save Everybody From *cough cough mumbles* and settle us all in the DC universe, REALLY messed him up! What are we supposed to DO!? He can't STAY like this!!!

Enter-> My FAVORITE DCxDP Trash Ship! Vlad&Lex!!! *horrified screaming from the crowds, someone shouts "oh god, no! Please!"* Ha! There are no gods here, silly billys! Only two terrible, terrible HIGHLY Dramatic, self serving, incredibly damaged, gay peacocks. In Business Suits that cost more then your house is worth.

They're AWFUL~♡

And! Vlad was sent ahead to lay the ground work. Insure there would be no GIWs. Also because no one could stand him and his EXTENSIVE criminal record. But that's besides the point.

But!

You know what he found? A Business Nemesis. Who he routinely dates and/or Dramatically Hate Fu-*coughs* I mean, attempts a Corporate Take Over(tm) off. You know how it is. Business. He ALSO gets to make it no secret he's a "Meta", thanks to the INCOMPETENCE of one Jack Fenton, because that- *seething rant*

Yet? Dispite his STILL burning hatred for Jack? And his finally letting go of Maddie? You know what he STILL wants?

For Danny to be his Son.

*Gets a call from Frostbite*

...............soooooo........ what you're SAYING is..... I can be pregnant with Daniel.

You, Frostbite, need ME, Vladimir Masters, THE ONLY OTHER HALFA, to carry Daniel around inside my body, in what to all appearances resembles a pregnancy, in order to heal him. Because I am an Older And Stronger Halfa Upon Which He Relies.

:)

*instantly begins plotting*

Just? Imagine. Vlad is a FUCKIN LIAR. No one but him would even KNOW what was going on! He just? Rocks up one day, like? *falsely demure* "oh I couldn't POSSIBLY has any scotch, Lex! >:) I'm eating for Two~☆" and just? Deals the MAXIMUM amount of psychic damage he can.

Probably says it at their weekly, public, Veiled Threats Brunch.

It makes front page news. Luthor choked on his eggs. The paparazzi lost their SHIT. Vlad is doing the FULL Celebrity Mom Thing. The classes. The photo shoots. The Gucci sunglasses as he peruses high end strollers. All while HEAVILY suggesting that not only is "The Baby" Lex's.... but that he's going to withhold the child and deny Lex any access.

Danny isn't even aware. He's in a lovely lil medical coma. Dani is trying to find a good spot to plop down Amity. She just know Vlad is being... Vlad. Meh. He can handle it. Dan? He's not even IN the human realm and is not sure he wants to be.

But over in the LEAGUE? Everything's on fuckin FIRE.

Kon is losing his SHIT and Clark is thousand yard staring into the void. Kon's half brother is in the hands of a... Less Then Ideal... Meta that Batman is PRETTY sure is highly suspect. Might be a deliberate weapons experiment. Certainly is a hostage. And the DRAMA.

Lex has never been worse.

He might actually stab his...partner? Vlad. At the hospital. The SECOND the child is born. There are already long term kidnapping plans in the making. He's hiring lawyers. Getting VICIOUS. There have been talks with DEATHSTROKE. By BOTH OF THEM.

Clark wants to cry.

@hypewinter @ailithnight @nerdpoe @hdgnj @the-witchhunter @mutable-manifestation @babbling-babull

[emberuby]

you deserve better | l.hs

pairing: lee heeseung x fem! reader

summary: heeseung overhears you crying about your asshole of a boyfriend. he'd do anything to show you how much better you deserve.

warnings: best friend's brother! heeseung, age gap (hee is 3 years older), mentions of body shaming, heavy insecurity, toxic ex, infidelity but it's deserved, soft dom! heesung, simp heesung, sub! reader, thigh riding, oral (f receiving), vaginal sex, missionary, creampie, sort of angst?, hurt comfort, not proofread.

wc: 4.7k

“Stop being such a pussy and break up with him already,” Sunoo groaned, rolling his eyes at the ceiling. Hojung slapped him on the shoulder and glared fiercely. She felt a surge of frustration on your behalf at Sunoo's nonchalant attitude.

“Sunoo! That’s not helping,” Hojung snarled, her eyes filled with annoyance as she looked at him, but they softened when she turned back to you.

You looked utterly miserable, eyes red and puffy from crying. Your hair was a mess, and your mascara was smeared in blotchy streaks across your cheeks from constantly rubbing your face.

You had recently discovered that your boyfriend of six months was growing bored of your relationship, especially your sex life. You knew it was a trivial thing to cry over, and Sunoo was right. Breaking up with him would be the simplest solution to end this cycle of misery.

“Come on, I'm just being real. He’s clearly not worth it. He humiliates you in front of his friends, sexualises you in front of them, mocks your weight, and can’t even make you orgasm but has the audacity to say the sex is boring? Hojung, why haven’t we kicked his ass yet?” Sunoo folded his arms across his chest and scowled, imagining the worst possible things happening to your boyfriend.

Hojung looked deflated as she slowly nodded, agreeing with everything Sunoo said. She grabbed your hand softly and looked at you with pure sympathy. “Y/N, I hate seeing you like this. Why are you still with him?”

You hiccuped, feeling on the verge of tears again at her worried tone. Despite hating to burden your best friends with your problems, they had been persistent in getting you to open up about what had been happening since they noticed your change in demeanour over the past few weeks.

You had been unusually quiet and dejected, often barricading yourself in your room. Sunoo and Hojung decided to hold an intervention, and now here you were, tipsy off a few seltzers, spilling everything that had been plaguing your relationship onto them. At first, they were angry with you for not telling them sooner, but now their focus was solely on your cunt of a boyfriend.

“I don’t know,” you sniffed, “I have no idea why I’m still with a man who makes me so utterly insecure. I guess I think…I won’t be able to find someone if I were to leave him. I’ve never had guys go after me so a small part of me thinks I should just deal with this because what other choice do I have?” You knew you sounded pathetic, but at this point, you couldn’t care less. 

“Is that what he told you?” Sunoo asked, now matching Hojung’s level of rage.

You stayed silent, but the answer was yes. Your boyfriend always told you how lucky you were to be in a relationship with him given how dull and flawed you were. Before this relationship, you couldn’t remember having this many confidence issues, but ever since he came into your life, you can’t help but believe his words. Maybe you were so undesirable that this is your one and only chance for a relationship. 

“Snap out of it, Y/N! None of what you said was true. You are beautiful and so incredible." Hojung furrowed her eyebrow and drunkenly yelled, “I will kill that bastard for making you feel this way, I swear!”

“Oh! But if I said that, you’d call me all sorts of dramatic,” Sunoo scoffed.

“Yeah, because you would actually mean it,” Hojung retorted, snapping her fingers in front of Sunni’s face. It made you flashback to your early high school days when Sunoo would go after boys who teased you, usually by physically confronting them in the courtyard.

“I…You’re right. Both of you. I will break up with him, soon. I just hope I’m not such a coward that I chicken out like last time,” you used the ends of your sweater to wipe the tears away from your eyes, not caring anymore about the mascara stains that were being left on the fabric.

“You’re telling me you tried to break up with him before and didn’t follow through?” Hojung gasped. 

Before you could answer, you heard footsteps approaching. Turning around, you saw Lee Heeseung, Hojung’s older brother. Despite knowing he was off-limits, you couldn’t help but get nervous and infatuated every time he was around. Ever since you met him at thirteen, you’ve had a crush on him that was all too obvious to Hojung, not that she ever commented on it.

Perhaps it was slightly more than a tiny crush, but either way, you knew your place and never sought after him. Even if he wasn’t your best friend’s older brother, you knew he was way above your league. He carried himself with a confidence and beauty you could only dream of possessing.

It had been a year since you’d last seen Heeseung. He went off to a university in Europe but came back periodically to visit his family. Now that he was almost graduating and had more free time, he decided to come home for a few months and was staying at your and Hojung’s apartment for the week to catch up with his baby sister. 

Hojung snapped her head up at him, furrowing her eyebrows. “Heeseung! What do you need? We’re having a private conversation,” she scolded. 

Heeseung came up behind her to ruffle her hair, much to her annoyance. “You need to watch how much you drink,” he said sternly. 

“Ugh, I didn’t drink that much. I’m fine. Now go away!” She slurred.

“Fine!” Heeseung raised his arms slightly in surrender, “I just came to get some water.”

Heeseung looked down into your eyes, mesmerising you. You held eye contact for a moment before you got too nervous and tried to find anywhere else to look. Although his stare was rather intense and mostly unreadable, there was a hint of concern etched on his expression. “You okay?” He asked.

You nodded meekly, face heating up at the embarrassment of him having to see you in this state—a crying and babbling mess over a boyfriend who clearly wasn’t worth your tears. You tried to lower your gaze so it wouldn’t be so obvious to him, but it was mostly useless.

Heeseung walked over to the fridge and took out four water bottles. When he came back to the table, you felt him behind you, and the heat emanating off his body was all too noticeable. Your breathing became irregular as he leaned over from behind you to place the water bottles on the table. 

Hojung took a swig of water and suddenly tumbled out of her seat, running towards the kitchen to empty the contents of her stomach into the sink. You stood up to hold her hair back, followed by a worried but calm Heeseung. 

“How much did she drink?” Heeseung asked.

You kept your mouth shut, but Sunoo didn’t seem to have a problem with tattling as he said, “A few seltzers, a bottle of soju, three shots of tequila,” he grabbed a can from Hojung’s side of the table and inspected it, “And a beer?”

“Fucking hell,” you heard Heeseung murmur under his breath. “Hojung, what is your problem? You know you’re a lightweight.”

Hojung just groaned back, too dishevelled to say anything. You placed your palm on her forehead and felt it burn. 

“Alright, that’s enough, let’s wrap it up. Hojung, go to bed,” Heeseung scolded. 

“Sunoo, I’ll call you an Uber and—,” you started.

“No, he can stay and sleep on the couch, it’s too late. All of you go clean yourselves up and go to sleep,” Heeseung instructed, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Heeseung and Sunoo led Hojung back to her room, holding onto her by the shoulders.  

You were sitting alone at the table now, scattered with empty cans of cheap alcohol and glass bottles of half-empty liquor. It was half past midnight, and although you desperately wanted to sleep, your mind was still plagued with the thoughts of how you were going to break up with the man who was poisoning your life.

You hadn’t even realised that Heeseung sat across from you until you felt him grab the drink can from your hand. He looked over to you disapprovingly, but also worried. 

“Hojung and Sunoo both went to bed, you should too,” he said quietly. His voice was so soft and soothing that it did make you want to fall asleep to the sound of it.

“I don’t think I can.”

Heeseung had heard everything you said, and he was doing a rather good job at hiding just how enraged he was at your scum of a boyfriend. Not to mention how angry he was at the words you said about yourself. It made him want to grab you by the shoulders and tell you in detail just how gorgeous and desirable you were, right after breaking the jaw of the man who made you cry like this.

If it were up to him, you would never cry unless it’s from pleasure from how good he made you feel. 

He snapped out of his crude thought. “Your boyfriend sounds like a real charmer,” he said sarcastically. 

You looked away from him, embarrassed, “So I guess you heard everything?”

“Sorry,” he said all too unapologetic, “I’m not the type to eavesdrop, I swear.”

“It’s fine. I just don’t want you to think I’m pathetic. I swear I’ll break up with him tomorrow.”

“I don’t think you’re pathetic at all, just misguided. You think way too low of yourself.” His stare made you feel so small. “You’re fucking gorgeous, Y/N.”

Your face heated up like crazy. You finally looked back up into his eyes and Heeseung felt amused at your flustered and shocked face. You were adorable beyond your comprehension. 

“You don’t know how many men would do anything to have you.” Present company included, Heeseung thought. 

You shook your head, chuckling weakly, “You don’t have to say that.”

His eyes went dark now, frustrated at how you didn’t believe him. He leaned over the table to grab your hand. It was comforting and far too gentle for you to have reacted by flinching at the sudden touch. “I mean it, Y/N. You deserve so much better than him,” he lowered his voice and whispered, “You deserve to feel good. A man who can’t pleasure his woman is what’s actually pathetic.”

You had no idea what to say at that, your body going stiff at his insinuating words and the feeling of his thumb rubbing over your hand. 

He smiled tenderly at you, trying to soothe your worries. “I could show you what it feels like to be taken care of.” He leaned closer towards you now, and you felt yourself leaning as well. “Come sit over here,” he patted his lap.

You had no idea what you were thinking when you stood up from your seat and began walking towards him, but you felt him pulling you in. In these months of misery and heartbreak, Heeseung’s comforting presence was magnetic and you couldn’t stop yourself from getting close to him.

You stood in front of him, and he gently held your waist to pull you down to sit over his lap, legs scandalously spread in front of his pelvis. You felt yourself heat up even more, especially the in-between of our legs. You were wearing pyjama shorts and a baggy white shirt, no bra. Heeseung snaked his arms up your back and pushed you even closer so your chest was flush with his. 

You were flustered at the feeling of your tits pressed up against him, and your shorts dampening ever so slightly with your arousal. 

“I bet I could be a better kisser than him,” Heeseung whispered. 

Your faces were so close now that one slight push would have your lips pressed up against each other. “We…We can’t do this Heeseung,” you managed to say.

“There’s nothing wrong with it,” He cupped your face, “you’re going to break up with anyways.”

“No, that’s not it,” you bit your lip and reached up, grasping onto his shoulder, “It just feels…I don’t know if Hojung will be happy with me—”

He placed a finger over your mouth, “Shh, enough of that. She doesn’t matter right now, and you do. What is it that you want?”

You leaned into his palm, ever so hypnotised by his stare. You stayed silent, your mind thinking of all the ways this may hurt Hojung. What if she thought of you as betraying her? You’ve always had feelings for him, but what if you succumbed to your desires as just a means of using him to get over your heartbreak? You cared far too much about Heeseung to do that to him. What if he just wanted to use you? 

You were snapped out of your thoughts when Heeseung grabbed you tightly by the hips, making you rub your pelvis against his, not helping at all with your wave of arousal. You held back a whimper. “Tell me, gorgeous. What do you want?”

“I want you,” you finally pushed yourself against his lips. It didn’t take long for Heeseung to hold your head and push his tongue inside your mouth. The way he was using his tongue was making you hazy, not being able to suppress your noises any longer. It was rough and passionate. A fiery passion you weren’t used to. 

“Stay quiet, baby. Don’t want to wake anyone up, right?”

You nodded weakly, but you weren’t sure if you were going to be able to keep that promise. His tongue now latched onto your jaw and you clasped your lips together to hold back your whimper. Your squirming made Heeseung’s cock harden and stand up, and you began feeling sensitive to the feeling of his erection pressing up against you. 

It was almost involuntary the way you began grinding against his crotch, and you felt desperate. His lips were now on your neck and he grabbed a handful of your ass, steadily pushing you back and forth on his thighs. It made you see stars. 

It was embarrassing how you felt yourself nearing your orgasm just by this. You have been so sexually deprived and neglected it made you sensitive to real and passionate intimacy. It was in the feeling of your clit pressing against the fabric of your panties, and Heeseung’s hand inside your shirt playing and palming at your tits. Your nipples hardened at the pressure.

Fuck, you were going to cum practically untouched.

You quickened your pace, your hips beginning to tire as you started chasing the high.

“Are you going to cum, baby?” Heeseung whispered. You nodded meekly, not being able to speak a word. He gripped your hips, halting your movements. “Why don’t you take off your panties and ride my thigh? It will feel so much better.”

Although you were frustrated by having your pleasure taken away from you, you stood up on unbalanced legs in front of him once more. He put two fingers into the hem of your shorts and pulled you towards him. He leaned his head towards your leg and began placing kisses on your thigh as you felt your shorts slide down your legs and eventually pool on the floor.

“You’re fucking drenched,” you felt him place his fingers on the wet spot on your panties and whimpered at the feeling. “Have you ever been eaten out?”

You shook your head. Your boyfriend was the first sexual relationship you had, and he never seemed to be interested in making you feel pleasurable. You weren’t even sure if he knew how to.

“Bastard,” Heeseung murmured under his breath. He was utterly furious at how your boyfriend had practically been using you for his own pleasure like you were some object. He discarded your panties and pulled you back on his thigh.

Your clit came into contact with his thigh. He rocked you back and forth and your mind short-circuited at the friction of his jeans and your sensitive clit. You pressed your lips into his shoulders trying to muffle your moans, not trusting yourself to keep it in.

Heeseung was in bliss seeing you like this, desperate and beautiful and in utter pleasure. He felt his jeans get dampened from where your cunt was drooling on them. 

Because you were already so hot and stimulated, it didn’t take long for you to feel it. The feeling was almost foreign to you since it’s been so long since you’ve pleasured yourself. You were going to cum on his thigh. 

“I-I think…I’m close,” you whined.

“I know, baby,” he cupped the back of your head gently, “cum for me.”

You rolled your eyes back as you felt your orgasm wash over you. You felt it everywhere in your body. You wrapped your arms tightly around Heeseung’s torso, almost like you’d fly away if you weren’t anchored to him. He kept slowly pushing you on his thigh, gently helping you come down from your high.

“Thank you, Heeseung,” you said after you had time to calm down.

“Don’t thank me. Not yet,” he chuckled. You were confused until you felt yourself rise as he picked you up and began walking towards his bedroom.

He laid you gently on his bed and leaned down to press his lips on your forehead. You were prepared for him to fuck you some more, and as much as you were tired, a major part of you was excited at the thought of him wearing you out for the night. You were surprised when he stood back up and grabbed your phone out of his pocket. You had no idea how you got that.

“Open it,” he demanded. You did so, feeling upset at yourself for being so unquestioning and submissive. You couldn’t help yourself though as you had the utmost trust towards Heeseung. 

He went through your contacts and found the man he was looking for. His name on your phone was followed by a sparkly pink heart after it. It made him want to gag. He pressed the call button, surprised at how quickly the man picked up given how late it was into the night. “Babe?” came out of the other line.

He put it on speaker and handed you the phone. You were immensely afraid to take it, still hesitant about your ability to leave this dead relationship. “Tell him. Tell him now or I will,” he whispered spitefully. He wanted to watch you dump that pathetic excuse of a man before he let himself have you fully. 

He couldn’t give a fuck about how the other man felt about his girlfriend cheating on him, but he knew you needed to get this over with. He wanted you to forget your boyfriend and focus solely on him as he took you.

“Y/N, what do you want?” the voice on the phone came out harsh as he was getting annoyed at your silence, making Heeseung clench his fists. How dare he speak to you like that, he thought.

“H-Hi…I called because I wanted to tell you something,” you said gently. Heeseung was sure he did not deserve to hear your soft voice. 

“Okay? Well hurry the hell up, I want to sleep.” Heeseung felt himself holding back from becoming violent.

“I think…I don’t think I can keep doing this.”

“Do what? What are you talking about?”

“I…,” your eyes trailed towards Heeseung, looking for help. He held your hand to help comfort you, but he wasn’t about to break up with your boyfriend for you so he gave you a stern look to continue what you were saying. You decided to rip the bandaid and said, “I think we should break up.”

There was a silence on the other line until your boyfriend—now ex—began raising his voice and cursing at you, “You’re not fucking serious, Y/N. Is this seriously why you called me in the middle of the night? I mean, what the fuck?” You noticed Heeseung clench his jaw. “Go ahead, leave me. You’re just going to come crawling back when you can’t find someone who can put up with how boring you are. Honestly, you are suck a fucking bitch, too scared to—,” Heeseung grabbed the phone out of your hand.

There were tears welling up in your eyes, but you were trying your absolute best not to cry over this prick. You already embarrassed yourself enough. 

Heeseung knew he couldn’t yell in fear of waking up the others in the apartment, so he said as quietly as he could, “Listen here you fucking cunt. Speak to her like that again and I will rip your throat out with my bare hands, do you understand?”

“Who the fuck are you?” the man on the line spat, but you could hear the slight fear in his voice. Your ex has never been a particularly confident man around men who intimidated him. Heeseung’s strong presence was clearly making him feel inferior, even if it was through the phone.

“I said do you understand? Never call this number again. In fact, don’t step or look or breathe anywhere near her, asshole.”

“Are you fucking—,” Heeseung ended the call and blocked his number for good measure. 

Heeseung leaned down and pressed his forehead against your forehead, “How do you feel?”

Instead of responding you grabbed him by his shirt and pulled his lips on yours. You felt like your body would not function unless he was on you. You didn’t want Heeseung to think you were upset over leaving your boyfriend, because you weren’t. You couldn’t give a fuck about him anymore, but fuck were you embarrassed by your cowardly attitude.

You may have been too weak to take action against your now ex-boyfriend, but you mustered up all of your strength to show Heeseung how much you wanted him, and solely him. 

He grabbed your waist and pushed your back on the mattress. You were moaning into each other’s mouths. It was hot and desperate. He needed you just as much as you needed him.

“Fuck,” he groaned, one hand pinning your wrists above you, the other descending down to your waist and grinding into you. You moved your hips up to meet his, trying to satisfy your craving for getting him inside you. 

He kissed you one more time before trailing his mouth down your throat, eliciting louder moans out of you. “Please,” you begged. You moved your hands to try to take off his shirt, forgetting he had them restrained. 

Heeseung let go of your hands, but instead of undressing himself, he peeled off your white shirt, leaving your bare breasts on display for him. He couldn’t hold himself back from moaning, gripping one with his hands and wrapping his lips around the other. It was practically impossible to keep quiet at the feeling of his mouth flicking and sucking on your sensitive bud. 

You felt his fingers yet again, but this time on your bare cunt, making you flinch in sensitivity. “Heeseung…,” you said breathlessly.

“Baby, you’re drenched,” his eyes were like a predator before it was about to devour its prey. He moved down the bed, placing your legs over his shoulders, thighs resting comfortably on his shoulders. He began lapping at your hole, and it felt like this was all that he was made to do. He was meant to pleasure you and now that he has been given the chance, he won’t be able to live without the feeling of your arousal on his tongue.

He licked up all your juices and then moved up to begin sucking on your clit. You accidentally yelped, despite your desperate effort to stay quiet. Heeseung chuckled, and looked up at you, “Baby, I told you to stay quiet. Or would you rather I shove your face into the mattress and take you from behind?”

You clenched at the thought, not entirely sure if you would mind. It didn’t get past him how positively you reacted to his threat. “Next time,” he murmured before continuing the devouring of your cunt. 

Your hand was tightly pressed over your mouth as you felt yourself cum on his tongue, your body shaking as you began to take in the feeling of overstimulation. You don’t remember a time in your life when you’ve had more than one orgasm in a single night. Heeseung climbed up once more and placed a kiss on your lips, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

“You taste incredible,” he groaned, making your face heat up in flames. You couldn’t believe he could say such intimate and coarse things so calmly. He began kissing your neck again, surely leaving a mark for tomorrow. That’s something your future self would have to worry about. 

He slid off his jeans and groaned as you reached down to cup his cock with your hand, mind going haywire at how massive it felt. You were nervous now to take it in your cunt, but he removed your hand and thrust himself inside you in one quick motion, wrapping your legs around his waist. 

You were both moaning now, your walls blaming around his cock from the pleasure, but partly due to your struggling of trying to take his size. You were still a bit too tight even with the two times he’s already made you cum. He let you slowly adjust to it before increasing his rhythm, pumping his cock more deeply and quickly.

His back was now littered with your scratches from clawing at him. He was pounding into you at a speed that was making it harder to form any thoughts. How could you, when you were having your guts rearranged by the man you’ve been in love with since you were a little girl? You felt his cock throbbing inside your walls, and you knew your climax was coming closer, as well as his.

“Fuck, I’m going to cum baby,” he breathed. He reached down and you felt his fingers playing with your clit, trying to get you to cum at the same time as you. Even if you tried your best to stay as quiet as possible, the sounds of the bed creaking were not going to fool anyone who was awake at this time. 

“Cum inside me, p-please,” you managed to say in between whines. He didn’t object, and you felt your insides become hot as his seed spread inside you, coating your walls. At the same time, you clamped around his cock as you came with him. You gripped tightly at his back, needing him as close to you as humanly possible. 

Heeseung stayed still as he waited for you to calm down, running his hands up and down your waist to help warm you and stop your shaking. He pressed his forehead against yours. It was just you and him in this world, breathing slowly to each other’s rhythm. 

He knew you were exhausted, so he wasn’t about to bring it up now so as to not overwhelm you, but you were his now. You were now forever belonging to him. There is only one thing that will let him live a fulfilling life and it’s to keep you in his life, happy and protected.

While you were sound asleep, you didn’t even notice your phone vibrating throughout your sound slumber.

LEE HOJUNG [09:27]: i’m guessing you’re still asleep but…seriously girl. i’m glad you’re moving on from that garbage bin of a human (please please please tell me u broke up with him) but did you seriously have to do it with my OWN BROTHER????

LEE HOJUNG [09:27]: i’ll kill him if he hurts you i hope you know that.

LEE HOJUNG [09:28]: are you guys together now or smth?

LEE HOJUNG [09:28]: he’s never allowed back here again don’t argue with me istfg

LEE HOJUNG [09:28]: UGH…YOU GUYS ARE DISGUSTING 🤮🤮 WAKE UP ALREADY SO I CAN BEAT YOUR ASSES 

KIM SUNOO [10:03]: Yeah…I’m not shocked in the slightest. 

[sierrale8ne]

paige bueckers x fem!reader

nsfw // car sex, exhibitionism, p calls the reader ‘miss’ a few times, dom!paige, sub!reader, thigh riding.

save a horse ride a cowgirl ;) happy halloween 👻

everybody say thank you @patscorner for the inspo!

Going out to a block party for Halloween was honestly not where you expected to be, but it was way more fun than expected.

They UConn girls had dragged you out, your girlfriend dropping a costume on your bed and telling you to get dressed. So you did both. Fitting on the frilly white dress and pink corset that made up your Bo Beep costume.

You and your closest friends had been there for some time, Paige and her teammates being late as per usual. But as soon as you saw her tall frame, teammates by her side, it didn’t take much for you to walk up and drag her away from the other athletes.

It was cold in Connecticut this type of year, but you sucked it up just to get a look at your girlfriends face when she saw yoi with your hair done up and makeup done, the stockings on your legs and lace garters inching up your thighs.

“You tryna kill me?” Paige asked, eyes taking in your body like you were a piece of meat.

“Hi, Woody.” You teased, hooking your white staff around her arm as you take a step towards her.

Paige’s jeans hung low, yellow and red flannel cut raggedly to show off her abdomen in true Paige fashion. She looked gorgeous. Blonde hair freshly touched up and flowing in the wind under her cowboy hat.

She reached to hold your waist, licking her lips. “You gotta start trustin’ me more. This was a wonderful costume idea.” She says, tooting her own horn a tad too much.

“Maybe. You look sexy in this, cowgirl.” You tell her. “You wanna come with me for a second?” You ask with a tilt of your head. When she looks in that direction to see your car parked a block away, Paige is instantly intrigued.

“You promise to make it worth my while, miss?” Her voice is so sultry, pulling you into her as if she herself could intoxicate you.

The nod and bite of your bottom lip is all she needed to allow you to grab her hand, dragging her toward the secluded parking space where your Chevy sat soundly. She let out a low whistle as you walked, the fat of your ass peaking out from the bottom of your short dress.

By the time you reach the car, she’s opening the backdoor, taking a seat with her legs still out of the car. Her body is bent over towards you, your legs looking absolutely magicals she just had to reach for them.

When Paige finally looks up at you, you get a glimpse of the toothpick just hanging from her lip.

“You’re too into this costume, baby.” You giggle, taking a step towards her.

Your left leg fits snuggly between her legs, the other pressing perfectly against the side of her muscular thigh. She leans back ever so slightly when your hands meet her shoulders. Paige’s head tilts back to look at you, biting her bottom lip as her hand trails to situate her comfortably on her thigh.

“You’re not?”

“Mmm, I didn’t say that. I’m very into this costume.”

Paige flicked the toothpick from between her lips, the small piece of wood biting the asphalt below. “You know the saying? Save a horse, ride a cowboy, or whatever?” She asked.

“What about it?” Your eyes go low as you take her all in, the scent of her perfume combined with her utter sexiness was an unreal combination and you were just a girl.

She grabbed hold of your hips, then, changing her mind and reaching under your dress with her hand, the door of your car still opened.

Her fingertips met your core, wet and warm off of less than five minutes with her. Paige pulls the material to the side, tsk-ing at the material. Red and lacy, like you were planning on getting the blonde in your pants before you had put your costume on.

“Think you should show me how you ride me, miss.”

Your leg rests on the leather of your car seats, your white cowboy boots enough to make Paige fall out. Your other leg moves as well, just enough to force your knee onto Paige’s core. Enough to make her body tremble, but not enough to do anything; you were a tease, she’d make you pay for it at home later.

The blonde grabs onto your hips, pulling you down on her strong, jean clad muscle. You gasp, her jeans rough on your cunt.

You’re giving her a show. The way your head tosses back makes her want to sink her teeth into your neck like a vampire. Claw you up and mark you like she was a werewolf. She wanted to fuck you till you were screaming and crying bloody murder, whether it was in the comfort of the bedroom or right here with your door wide open.

It felt good, too good. Your clit running back and forth, coupled with the way she gripped your hips until they bruised.

“Holy shit, Paige.” You whimper, you hung onto her shoulder with one hand while you gripped the top of the car with the other.

She lifted up the tail of your dress, holding the fabric up by your breasts. Your lower half is exposed and it makes you shiver. “You like that, ma? Make that pussy feel so good, huh?” She questioned.

You nod, your breath reduced to choppy whimpers. The fact that anyone could see you was exhilarating, and Paige was only adding to it. Your hips move faster, chasing that high. Your speed pushes your knee into Paige’s cunt repetitively, and she’s groaning in your face, helping you get there.

“Ha—yes. Fuck yes!” You should keep it down, be cautious of who could be looking over and watching you get off on your girlfriend’s thigh, but it just felt so good.

“You leakin’ on my thigh, miss. Makin’ me so messy.” She looks down at the dark spot on her already dark wash jeans. “Turns you on, huh? You like bein’ a slut on my thigh, baby? In front of all these people?”

Each word gets you wetter until you can’t even look in her direction anymore. Your neck drops into her neck, drool slipping past your lips and down till it hit her collarbone. Paige leaves your hip to grip your neck instead, a slight pressure that only increases until she’s closing your lungs as if she wanted to kill you. It was hot. So unbelievably hot.

She reaches to take the hat off of her head, blonde hair now disheveled at her crown. Paige places it on yours, slightly lopsided as you rode her faster.

Her lips are pressed dangerously close to your ear as she chokes you within an inch of your life. “Y’know I could make you feel so much better than this? How good my tongue would feel.”

“I—gonna— fuck, baby.”

“Could strap you so damn good. Right here too. Show all these people how sexy you look when you cum. When you throw it back on me ‘til this pussy is cryin’ for me.”

“Please.” You beg for God knows what.

“Can I have it, ma?” Paige teases, sending a bite to your earlobe. “Have you make a mess on my shit. Please?” She asked.

“Gonna— fuck, fuck, fuck, ‘m gonna cum!” You nod. Your hand falls from the car to the window next to you for stability. You ride Paige’s thigh harder, grinding your clit against the material until it was sore. A gasp for air leaves your lips when she finally lets go of your neck and slaps your ass harshly.

When your orgasm hits, it’s like a giant tidal wave, nearly making you fall out of the car if it wasn’t for Paige holding you and helping you though it. Your legs tremble against her before you fall back into her embrace, cursing up a storm.

Paige feels your arousal seep through until it hits her bare thigh. “I didn’t know riding a cowgirl could make you cum like that.” She jokes, kissing your temple as you catch your breath.

“Shhh. Don’t make this weird.”

“I’m not! You’re the one with the freaky ass role play kink, not me.” Paige pulled your dress back down, your panties over your cunt that was covered in your own cream. She was right, you were messy, and the spacious wet patch on her leg proved it.

“Sorry ‘bout your jeans.”

“S’no problem, baby.” She shrugged, following that up by scooting her body further into the car and laying back against the seats. “While it dries you should show me what else you can ride.” Paige adjusts your body with hers, pulling you into the car and over her lap, waiting for you to finish and scoot onto her face.

“Oh my God, let me shut the door.”

kalena speakss 🪽! this is not edited but enjoy and HAPPY HALLOWEEN 🙂‍↕️

[thisisnotthenerd]

how does it feel to be the rat grinders in that final fight

building up to a ritual you've spent the last year on, angry and tired and expending effort on this one thing so that you might finally get the recognition, the accolades you think you deserve. being special for once, in the face of a party of legend. of oracles and saints, angels and devils, great wizards and bards, inheritors of family legacy and tragedy alike who all seem to skate.

having to work hard in the shadows because you took the easy path and yet have to catch up with these people who so easily belittle you. seeing them rake in the benefits of popularity, running on a platform of flimsy ideas instead of true policy and yet still they have the school dancing to their tune. it's for the ritual, but the ache of it stings as they call you out again and again, laughing in your face for wanting something.

so much work, so much research, traveling and hiding for months as the bad kids are lauded and pass the year with a bullshit exam that you fail to rig against them, catching you in a moment of chance even as they survive what would kill you easily.

seeing them (her) haunt your dreams and die on your front lawn, forever chasing after someone who never existed in the first place. they imitate what they've seen of you. she disappears and yet is there to strike you down because the girl you think you could love hates you with all of her being.

being used by your teachers against your rivals and yet somehow they are nicer, closer to them than to you. more angry about their success, more invested in their progress.

summoning your full force, putting your family in danger, finally getting one over on them (her) only for them to be struck from the sky and thrown in your face as an insult.

seeing them going to work simply to decimate you and strike you down, with less power than you but more tenacity, more stamina, more true experience earned in the wide world. not knowing what to do as they do so with ease, dancing through the lava and flames with nary a thought but your destruction.

seeing them survive and bounce back from the attacks that struck down lucy. they didn't need rage to get here. they didn't need a nameless goddess, or midnights in the forest with monsters, spreading crystals in the dirt for a pieces of a plan years in the making.

18 seconds in and three of you are dead. there's no rage crystal that can save you this time. there's only blood and fire on the floorboards and the bad kids coming in for the glory again. they don't care that you're kids in their class.

with every moment it becomes clear that you are no longer people to them, just obstacles, failed investments, minor villains in their heroic journey.

was it worth it?

[jasmines-library]

Would it be too much to request a batsis oneshot, about her knowing how to cook😆 like whenever Alfred is not available he leaves her in charge to help ensure the other family members are eating without buring down the house🤭 also a lil thing u could add is she often visits the manor just to cook cuz Alfred always keeps the kitchen fully stocked with ingredients which means she can cook pretty much anything she desires💜 I just thought it'd be cute to have Bruce be envious of his daughters cooking skills whereas he lacks them🤭

Kitchen Antics

Thanks for requesting! This was cute to write!

Word Count: 1k

⛤ BATFAM MASTERLIST ⛤

“I still don’t think this is very fair.” Bruce pouted as you slid the plate in front of him.

“Hm?”

“This.” He gestured to the plate that you had served to him, piled to the brim. It had taken you hours to prepare, especially without Alfred’s help, but it was well worth it. “How come Alfred lets you cook and not me. I’m a fully grown adult. I should be allowed to cook a meal for my family.”

“Maybe it’s because you can’t actually cook.” You threw over your shoulder with a smug grin. 

That earnt a snort from Damian which he hid poorly behind a hand. Bruce shot him an unamused look. 

“Can too.” Bruce said. This time you raised a brow as you slid into your seat.

“Oh yeah, because the last time you cooked it turned out great.” Jason rolled his eyes. 

You remember it distinctly. It was one of the first times Alfred was away and had reluctantly let Bruce use the kitchen. He had regretted it the moment he returned because his kitchen was hardly recognisable. And the food Bruce had cooked was less so. If you could even count it as food. It was the furthest thing from edible. Somehow undercooked and burnt to a crisp around the edges at the same time. Even Alfred wasn’t sure how he managed to do that, and he had seen almost everything when baking with the rest of your brothers. It was safe to say that Bruce was no longer allowed in the kitchen after that. So, the responsibility turned to you. 

Alfred had always said you had a natural talent for cooking, though you swore it was because you had the best teacher: You had spent countless hours helping him when you were younger and you were the only person he didn’t seem to physically wince at when you walked into the kitchen. So, naturally when he announced he was leaving this week he entrusted you to make sure the family were fed without the entire manor being burnt down, or being filled with takeout boxes.

Your brothers had tried countless times to worm their way into the kitchen, but you ushered them out every time. They were just as bad as Bruce when it came to cooking. There was one time Damian and Dick had tried to bake a cake to surprise Bruce on his birthday. And it did…when the fire they had started nearly set the whole kitchen alight. Luckily Alfred had smelt it before any real damage could happen, but the pair of adults were far from happy. Jason had never shown much interest in cooking. He would usually just grab himself a snack from one of the cupboards instead of actually cooking himself something, so he had never really been an issue to keep out. Though, often he would try to sabotage your work just to wind you up. As for Tim, he was the best out of the four boys. By no means a master at work, it was often slightly bland but he was the only one who hadn’t tried to kill everyone with his cooking so he got bonus points for that. 

“That was one time.” Bruce turned his head away, pouting like a small child.

“Tt. Father, I think you’ve tried to poison us every time you’ve gone near the kitchen.” Damian jested through a mouthful of food. “Perhaps you should ask Joker to try it. Might take a villain off of our hands.”

Tim stifled a laugh. “This is lovely, Y/N. Thank you.”

You smiled. “Thank you.”

The six of you fell into a comfortable silence as you ate, before Bruce finally spoke up again. Cutting through the sound of cutlery scraping against china plates.

“Is my cooking really that bad?”

He was answered with silence. And a lot of smirks.

“...Are you jealous of Y/N, Father?” Dick grinned.

“Psh…No.”

Bruce was a terrible liar. 

~

“Do you need any assistance, Miss Y/N?” Alfred poked his head around the kitchen door. He had returned from his trip not too long ago, glad to see that everyone had been well fed and that the house was still in one piece. 

Glancing up from the bowl of ingredients you were whisking, you met Alfred’s proud glance. “No thank you, Alfred. You already have everything I need.”

Alfred smiled up at you. It was nice for you to stop by once in a while to see them. He enjoyed seeing you cook. Better yet he enjoyed tasting your new creations each week so he kept everything stocked, even if he knew he wouldn’t need it himself. The shelves were lined with all sorts of spices, flours, sugars and ingredients for you to create something new so that if you ever decided to stop by (which you liked to do at least once a week) he would have everything  you could ever need.

Your brothers loved it when you would bring over food to them too. Most of it would be gone in minutes and they would turn to you asking for more. Bruce would do the same too, although he would still have that look of teasing jealousy on his face. But he was proud really. And glad that at least one of his children had enough common sense to not set the entire manor alight when baking a cake. 

BATFAM TAGLIST:

@aestheticdaisies

@hell-o-kittys

@xxrougefangxx

@mamapucket

@hearts4robs

@harleycao

[rafeyscurtainbangs]

The Sweetest Thing - Rafe Cameron

+18 Minor DNI

CollegeHockey!Rafe x gf!reader

⭐ republished ⭐

+18 Minor DNI

ask: sex with hockeyplayer!rafe after he won an important match

Thank you so much for your ask 🌺

🪄 hockey!rafe, bf!rafe, swearing, name-calling, Rafe & reader’s POV, hockey violence, pet names (daddy, doll, baby, babygirl etc, degradation, Rafe talks about the reader in an explicit fashion to her ex without her there, rough oral, throat fucking, cum play, creampie, semipublic sex, unprotected p in v, jealous!rafe, ownership kink, squirting, lots of dirty talk from him

📖 CollegeHockey!Rafe can’t wait to get his hands on you after winning the Frozen Four Championship game, especially after playing against your ex.

✨ He meets your eyes, his guide shifting as you pinch the bottom of his jersey you’re wearing. “Keep it on, princess. Just for a bit,” he smiles as he looks down at you at his feet, wanting to see his last name on your shoulders as you suck him off.✨

2.3 K lightly edited (<- mostly smut)

NCAA Men’s Frozen Four Championship Game…

30 seconds remaining in the 3rd Period 1-0:

Rafe’s POV:

The ref’s whistle screams through the arena. The puck drops again. I skirt and push as I look for an opening, waiting for my pass. I charge past the student section, catching her eye as I always do. My number one fan. My girl. Mine.

Easton Lawrence is a bitch. He has been since juniors; y/n’s ex-boyfriend no less. He and I usually both end up ejected from the game without fail. Not today. I promised her I’d play as nice as I could. ‘He’s not worth it. He’s a dick. He’s just trying to get under your skin, baby.’ That’s my girl’s pep talk. But Jesus fuckin’ Christ, three periods of this shit-talkin’ from him has me wanting to toss all that out the window. He loves to fuck with me. And he always has—every damn game.

Easton bumps his stick against the glass, giving her a smile that she doesn’t return. Good girl. We meet at the line, getting ready for puck drop. His silver chain hangs out of his jersey. Of course, I stalked her IG before we dated; I know that pendant was a gift from her. #6 shines in the bright rink lights, making my blood boil.

“Y/n looks good, Cameron. Sweetest fucking pussy I ever had.” He chirps, taking a jab as he has, each one getting more infuriating than the last as he inches closer and closer to my soft spot. Her. He just had to do it.

“Say her name again. Do it, bitch,” I warn.

“I miss her sayin’ mine, that’s for sure,” he sneers as he tightens his stick in his mitts.

“You startin’ shit ‘cause you’re losin’, asshole? This game is almost over. Give it up.” The whistle blows, a false start, leaving him plenty more time to run his mouth. My turn. “Good? Nah, buddy. My girl looks perfect. And I’m man enough to agree with you, perfect fuckin’ pussy. Too bad you weren’t man enough to make her cum. Huh?”

Easton laughs wickedly and shakes his head. “Gonna fucking kill you when I find you in the parkin’ lot, Cameron. I swear to Christ.”

“No, you ain’t. ‘Cause I’m gonna take that sweet pussy to the first locker room I find and rail what’s mine. Gonna make her forget that any man’s name’s ever passed her lips but Rafe Cameron.”

The whistle blasts, and the puck drops. I get an elbow to the gut immediately, Easton prodding and taunting me instantly. There are so many bodies in front of the net, but I catch my opening. The puck hits my stick, a little backhand flick. I watch as she trickles past the goal line.

The siren sounds, and the crowd cheers loudly as the music blares. I skate toward him, getting in his face before my teammates can reach me to celebrate, making the refs rush around us, anticipating a brawl. “Gettin’ her and the win, pussy. Have fun beatin’ your own dick, bitch,” I dig. Easton shoves me hard, and I shove him back, slapping his chest and ripping that cheap-ass Zale’s chain off his chest before hurling it over the glass.

"Break it up!” The refs scream, blowing their whistles again.

My co-captain bumps me with his stick, giving me a broad smile. That was the winning goal. A few boys drag me in for a celebratory hug before skating back to the bench. There are only a few seconds left, and the crowd’s goin’ crazy aleady. Y/n can barely contain her excitement. I give her a wink, and she smiles back, giving me a little finger wave that has me even more eager for the final buzzer.

Sure, they’ll be press after this. A quick interview with ESPNU, maybe a few words from the coaches; a quick speech from us captains. But when I’m done with all that shit, I’m fuckin’ my girl just like I said I would.

My coach smiles at me proudly, not wanting to jinx the next 30 seconds of play. The only thing that would be better is if the puck passed the white ice before the clock hit 0.0.

But I don’t wanna get greedy now, do I? I’ll save that for her.

Reader’s POV:

“Congratulations, captain…” Your lips meet his neck, a soft kiss, feeling his heartbeat under your lips. You palm his cock, rolling your fingers gently over the fabric. Rafe moans deeply, vibrations buzzing against your lips. You work a little lower, kissing and tracing his strong chest and abs, working to the locker room floor.

Your fingers run softly against the deep indentations of his v-lines, making his muscles flex. You smile up at him from your knees, catching your fingers under the band of his boxers, pulling them to his feet, watching as his aching cock springs free, Rafe letting out a sigh of relief.

He meets your eyes, his guide shifting as you pinch the bottom of his jersey you’re wearing. “Keep it on, princess. Just for a bit,” he smiles as he looks down at you at his feet, wanting to see his last name on your shoulders as you suck him off.

“I love your cock, baby,” you laud as you take him in your hands.

“Yeah?” He groans, watching you near his tip; a bead of precum gathers on his head, rolling slowly before it falls to the concrete. “Don’t go wastin’ it now,” he teases as you run your tongue along your bottom lip; mouth water, wanting the weight and taste of him on your tongue.

“If I was at the hotel, I’d lick it off the floor. I swear,” you smile as Rafe looks down at you in awe.

“Just a filthy little slut for me. Aren’t you, baby?”

“Mmm… Mhmm.” You hum, preening him up with your tongue. Rafe closes his eyes, tilting his head back to the ceiling. He cradles your head in his hands as you swirl slowly.

“This mouth, baby,” he mumbles.

Rafe’s eyes open, watching as you kiss him sloppily, teasing him with the thought of your lips wrapped around him fully, the warmth of your mouth swathing him. “Shit,” he pants, sexual tension painted all over his handsome face. You smile wickedly, lips parting slightly as he watches you take him into your mouth. “Fuckkk,” he moans, drawing out the word with a deep breath. You bob back and forth, choking on his big dick each time. He holds your head a little tighter in his hands as you increase your pace.

Rafe starts to trill on your tongue, mumbling praise as you add your hands. He tugs your hair, causing you to moan around his cock. Rafe takes control, gliding slower, taking a different grip entirely, holding your cheeks in his large hands. The fat tip of his cock kisses the back of your throat, spit seeping from the corners of your mouth.

“This mouth is mine. All fucking mine,” he grunts. “And you’re gonna swallow it all. Yeah?” Rafe asks raspily, stroking your full cheeks with his thumbs. “‘Course you are. Can’t answer with this pretty little mouth full of dick. Can you?”

Rafe thrusts deeply a few more times before giving you back the reins. You draw off him fully, a gasp for air releases from your open lips, drool connecting from the tip of his cock to your kiss-swollen lips. You spit on his dick, getting messy just like he likes, stroking him with your fist. "I’m all yours, Rafe.”

He shakes his head and smiles. “Mhmm… That’s right, princess.” You wrap your lips around his tip, creating a suction that makes him moan your name. Your hands wrap around, gripping his ass, as you start to stroke him with your mouth again. Lewd noises fill the locker room; Rafe, panting and like a dog; you, slurping and squelching with each bob of your head. Tears leak down your cheeks, eyes locked on him, watching as he starts to near his finish. Rafe’s cock swells on your tongue; his muscular thighs trembling as you squeeze. ”So good, baby… I’m gonna - Fuck.“ Warm, white ropes hit the back of your throat as you take his big load, swallowing it all.

You bind your fingers a little tighter, milking out his last bits of pleasure, skimming your tongue along his tip, catching what little remains, flattening your tongue to show him yourself. “My girl,” he smiles, hooking a finger under your chin, leading you to your feet. Rafe spits in your open mouth one moment, kissing you deeply the next, slipping his tongue inside. Your tongues swirl together, Rafe holding onto you tight.

"I need you, baby,” you plead against his lips, and he smiles on yours.

“Yeah? You need this dick, princess?”

“I need it,” you whisper, taking his bottom lips between your teeth.

“She needs it… I wanna fill up this sweet pussy,” he mumbles. “Nobody else gets you but me. No one else knows this cunt like I do. Do they?” He asks, all low and husky against your neck. You respond with a needy uh huh, making him chuckle as you melt into him more, feeling your arousal pool in your panties. “I’m gonna be drippin’ out of you all night.”

“I’m counting on it, Rafe,” you breathe. He strips you out of his jersey quick; your pants already tossed to the side, leaving you in your black lacy bra and panties. Rafe unclasps your bra as he kisses down your neck, holding your breasts in his ringed hands. He reels and flicks his tongue across your sensitive bud, pinching the other between his rough digits. You scratch your fingers into his damp hair, guiding him lower and lower.

“Babygirl,” he chuckles as he snaps your panties at the hip, seeing his #2 embroidered into the fabric. “I fuckin’ love you. You know that.”

“You like it?”

“You know I would. I love ‘em.” He kisses your skin, then the number, working lower and lower, hitching your leg over his shoulder to get better access to your sopping core. Rafe licks the fabric, tasting you, groaning against your clothed cunt at the taste. “M’gonna leave these on… Get ‘em all messy. When we get back to the hotel after the bar, you can take ‘em off. Deal?”

“Deal,” you smile as you brush back his bangs to see his pretty baby blues.

“‘N by you I mean me,” he smiles playfully. “I’m already thinkin’ about later, baby. Got me fuckin’ pussy whipped,” Rafe laughs as he lifts you into his strong arms.

“I’m addicted to you, Cameron. I guess we’re even,” you whisper against his lips as you hook your ankles around his waist, driving your body closer as he presses your back into the cool brick wall. ”Fuck me?“ You whine, desperation laced in your tone. ”Please.“

“I love when you beg for my cock. Think you could get nice and loud for me, princess?” You bite your lip and nod in reply. “Beautiful.”

Rafe pushes your panties to the side; you tilt your forehead against his, the two of you watching as his long cock nears your warmth. ”Shit,“ you whine as he circles your sensitive clit with his velvety head, making him smirk. Rafe moves a little lower, gliding through your folds, teasing your entrance with his pink, swollen tip. You both moan in unison as he fucks up into you.

You gasp and fuss, feeling him split you in two. Your boyfriend wasting no time stroking, hitting that special spot. He pins you to the wall, leaning in, rutting quickly. His thrusts are merciless, absolutely intense as you cling to his shoulders. You cry out in pleasure as his toned body claps against your clit, his ruddy head repeatedly striking your g-spot.

“Atta girl. Keep screamin’ like that.”

”Rafe… Oh my god. I’m gonna cum,“ you moan as stars dance in your eyes, white-hot pleasure overtaking you entirely as you cum all over his cock. Rafe works you even quicker, fucking you through your orgasms as your nails dig into his shoulder blades.

“Got this pussy creamin’ for me. Think I could make her cry,” he taunts through mumbled words, sucking and biting your skin, marking you up.

Rafe pulls you off the wall, leaving you gasping, his dick still buried deep as he carries you to the bench. He sits down, letting you straddle his lap as you kiss. Rafe adjusts slightly, leaning back into the wall, enjoying the view, catching a different angle, making you suck in some air. You lift your body, rising fully before spreading your thighs wide again. Rafe grips your ass in his hands, following you as you move. ”It’s too much,“ you whine, bottom lip wobbling, as he stretches you out.

“You’re lyin’,” he laughs breathily between jagged breaths. “My baby can take it.”

You throw your head back as you bounce, nailing the perfect spot, feeling every curve and ridge of Rafe’s dick as your thighs start to burn. Rafe’s thumb presses against your throbbing clit rubbing circles on top. ”Say my name when you cum, princess. Scream my fuckin’ name.“

”Sh-Shit,” you stutter, cock-drunk, thighs quivering uncontrollably, making you lose your rhythm. “M’gonna cum.”

“Cum on my cock, baby. Let me have it.”

Your orgasm rips through your body, pleasure hitting you harder than your first release, toes curling as you’re sent into ecstasy. Before you can come down, he picks you up, pushing you onto the cold bench, thrusting into you suddenly. The sounds of his skin clapping against yours echoes through the locker room. You let out a loud cry, making him smile wildly before your eyes pinch shut, gripping the metal edge, making your knuckles turn white.

“Look at me, princess. Eyes on me. M’almost there. You’re doin’ so good, f’me.” He lifts his hand, pressing two fingers between your lips before bringing them down to your clit, playing with your pussy.

”Yes! Just - Just like that. Fuck. Rafe,“ you squeal. ”Oh shit-“ Your orgasm spills over, soaking his cock, wetting your panties and his thighs. Rafe’s hips snap into you, filling you with his warmth. He topples down on top of you, burying himself in your neck, mumbling soft “I love you’s” as he rocks through your shared release. Rafe kisses your cheeks, then your lips, lingering close as you both come down from your bliss.

“Sweetest fuckin’ pussy I’ve ever had.”

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[starsofang]

Change of Heart

hitman!simon x f!reader / part 8

previous part

tw: alcohol use, angst, mentions of death

When life has completely and utterly failed you, you hire a hitman to take you out, too afraid to do it yourself. Instead of killing you like you had planned, he strikes up a deal with you, and you're too stubborn to bail out.

Waking up the next morning was the biggest slap in the face. It singed your skin with a burning sting, leaving you disoriented and lost. It was as if the brutal force of realization had hit you so hard, it knocked any form of thought right out of your mind except for pain. Irrepressible pain that caused you to feel numb.

Simon had left. All of your worried texts proved futile. What once showed as blue was now a sickening green that glared back at you. Your number was blocked, your messages unable to go through, and you were left an even shattered version than before. You were glass shards left to lay on the floor, you were a broken wind chime that could no longer provide a charming ambience.

You were broken and useless, tossed to the side like a damaged piece of scrap.

Simon had lived up to his name, and disappeared like a ghost. Drifting off into shadows of darkness, seeping into them and becoming one, never to be seen again.

You were hurt. Scratch that, that was a nice way of putting it – you were devastated. The walls you had so graciously taken down for him were now jagged pieces of debris with no mortar to glue them back together one by one. They were unrepairable, crumbling far too much to be saved.

Everything you ever learned about Simon felt like a lie, because that’s what he did – he lied. The glass was too foggy to tell the difference between what was a lie, and what wasn’t. If there were any parts of Simon that were truthful, you didn’t believe it. There was no grace of god to be there to lend a guiding hand to point you in the right direction. All you had was your gut, telling you deranged criticisms.

He lied to you, this was all a game, and you fell for it.

You should’ve known, really. A man like Simon was not one to love and be loved, not when he had an apparition named Ghost to steer him away from any attachment. After all, spirits could not grow devoted to a mere mortal woman who had nothing left to offer. You were stupid to think otherwise.

Graves was a bad enough person. He hurt you, tormented you, claimed you in order to assure your life was a living hell, with or without him. Now, the smallest part of you didn’t think he could be as cruel as Simon at this moment. It was a brainless thought, one you knew was far from true.

Simon never hurt you, nor did he treat you as bad as Graves.

But at least Graves didn’t have the gall to abandon you like an unwanted dog on the street.

Your mind was ping-ponging back and forth between truth and deception. You didn’t know what was real. It hazed over you, muting out every bit of you that was left inside and replacing it with nothing but cracked foundation.

Nothing was real. Nothing was worth it.

You didn’t leave the house for the entirety of the day, nor the next. You stayed in the confinement of your own home, feeling like a caged animal with no way out. You were slowly decaying away, losing the truest part of yourself, no longer able to see her in the reflection. She stared back at you with a ghostly image, whispering about how disappointed she was in you, how hateful she felt towards you.

She whispered about Simon, burdening you with reminders of what could’ve been if you were simply a little less broken. Bringing him up just to dig the knife in more, twisting it under your skin and basking in the bloodshed.

You were spiraling, just like you always did, because it was all you were good for. Simon was another excuse to crumble back into a deeply rooted self hatred. He was just a chess piece, a single card in a stack of dozens, while you picked it up and returned to your old game of reckless entertainment.

Day fourteen came before you know it. And you spent it completely by yourself, pondering why you ever made a deal with the devil in the first place.

It was easy to fall back into old habits when there was nothing there to offer recovery. Relapsing was what you did best, even when Simon was around, and you’d be damned if you didn’t do it again with him gone. It was a part of you, this endless cycle of self abuse, and it wasn’t going anywhere. It was simply on a temporary pause, now returning with more fiery persistence than before.

Alcohol was the only home you ever knew. It warmed you to the bone, engulfing you in a buzzing fervor. It welcomed you back with open arms, holding on to you with no intent of letting go. You were its lovely hostage, and you had grown Stockholm Syndrome.

Weeks passed by of tireless nights filled with the bitter taste that burned in your throat on repeat. Weeks were spent holed up in your apartment, nursing the only friend you had. This time around, you weren’t picky. You took whatever you could get, uncaring of the repercussions

And even in those weeks, Simon never left your mind. It was like a punishment for being good enough to fuck, but not good enough to stick around. It tortured your mind to the point of insanity.

The more alcohol you had, the more the memory of him became cloudy. It was exactly why you drowned yourself in it. You didn’t want to picture Simon’s face. Didn’t want to picture the way his eyes lit up when he saw you, or the way his smile was a bit crooked and off center. You didn’t want to picture him, and the future you grew too eager for, one that consisted of the two of you. Two puzzle pieces fitting together, only to be wretched apart and pressed down in separate corners.

You were completely losing yourself. All over a man who had broken you.

The cycle repeats. And repeats. You let it repeat, until hopefully one day, the alcohol would prove to be enough to give you the death you so greedily wanted.

It wasn’t until nearly four weeks in utter disarray that the cycle began to morph, railing off of the tracks that you worked so hard to have control over.

Deep into your daily routine of excessive drinking and wallowing in your own self-pity, the door knocked. You nearly missed it, brushing it off as your imagination. You didn’t have visitors, and the only one who cared to take that spot until leaving you was Simon.

Glancing around your apartment, you visibly winced at the disheveled sight of it. Bottles were thrown around carelessly, littering the kitchen counters and living room floor, where you were currently residing with a nameless show playing on the television. Hell had flown through your apartment, and it was your fault it had gotten this way again.

Old habits die hard. And you were always its unfortunate victim when those habits needed a host to leech on to once more.

Clambering up from where you sat on the floor, you somehow made your way to the door by the grace of god. It was late, and if you read right from the clock on the stove, it was past midnight. Anybody could be outside – a killer, an intruder, a thief. It was a mix between not caring about dying, and having enough logical sense to know nobody dangerous would knock first, that had you opening the door.

An unfamiliar man stood tall in the frame, bushy facial hair, sunken eyes that barely held a spark, almost as broad and stiff as Simon. But it wasn’t Simon, and this man was a mere stranger.

“Jesus,” the man muttered under his breath at the state of you. You frowned, feeling small and weak in comparison. After a moment, he cleared his throat, speaking again. “Need to talk to you. Can I come in?”

“I don’t even know who you are,” you muttered, narrowing your eyes.

“M’a friend of Simon’s,” he explained woefully. The sound of Simon’s name coming from somebody else’s lips and not yours had your heart clenching with a dull ache. It sent ice cold chills running through your veins. “The name’s John Price.”

You stared at him with a look of disdain. You never heard Simon mention him before. The more you thought about it, you never heard Simon mention anybody. He was an enigma that you fell into too easily without even knowing a lick of who he was outside of your temporary protector.

“If you’re looking for him, I don’t know where he is,” you replied dryly, gripping a hand on the door and beginning to close it. Before the hinge could click into place, John’s boot stopped it, wedging itself between the door and its frame. He gave you a tight smile, one that had you tensing.

“I know where he is, dove. I said that I need to talk to you.”

The two of you became trapped in a staredown, one that you were too exhausted to fight to be the champion of. Begrudgingly, you opened the door wide enough to allow him to slip in, shutting it behind him. You watched as he took in your apartment, surely judging the whirlwind of it. He wasn’t exactly the type to hide away his distaste, if his mockingly amused expression was any type of indication.

“What do you want?” you asked him, disregarding your own mess and instead focusing on him. He turned to look at you, flashing you another smile. It seemed trusting enough, kind even, but by this time, you knew better.

“Came to offer you a deal, of sorts,” he vocalized. “Might I sit?”

You glanced over at the living room, shame bubbling in you at the sight of the bottle you’d been indulging in before he came around. “Sure.”

You trailed behind him when he took his seat on the couch, letting out an exaggerated sigh, leaning back into it. His display of comfort made you feel uneasy. You made no effort to join him, opting to stand in the middle of the room.

“You were rather close with Simon, weren’t you?” he asked, causing you to scoff to yourself.

“Sure. What’s that got to do with anything?” you asked grimly.

Price hummed to himself, tapping his fingers against his knee. It caused a faint, muted sound of rough, calloused fingertips to chafe against the material of his pants. “Figured so. Allow me to ask you somethin’. You know of Simon’s occupation, right?”

“Yes.”

“Right. Silly me, that’s how you met, isn’t it?” He chuckled to himself. You weren’t sure what was so amusing. “Well, here’s the thing – his performance has been a bit… hindered as of late. I have a strong inkling that it’s because of you.”

The air in the room was tense, nearly suffocating you. Price had such a soft aura that was hiding menacing intentions. You could see through it.

“I need a favor from you, doll.”

“And that is?” you asked carefully.

He smiled at you, cocking his head. “I need you to reject him. Tell him you’re better off, that you don’t need him, whatever you can say to make him get his head back in the fuckin’ game. This job of ours isn’t a joke, you see. I can’t have him slackin’ off. That’s how he’ll end up caught and thrown in jail. Once it reaches that point, I can’t help him out of it. That’s why I need you to help me before that happens.”

Your eyes widened in bewilderment at the sheer nerve of Price. Asking you to tell Simon off, to lie and say you were happy without him? Fuck, the proof was in the pudding – you weren’t, and you could almost guarantee that Simon would know you were lying from one single word. Sure, you were mad at him – pissed – but you also wanted no part in this game Price was playing.

The more you sat on it, the more it became twisted. You were thrown in a tangled web of deception and betrayal, stuck to it like glue, fighting for your way out.

But how much of it was betrayal? How much of it was trickery?

Price’s words echoed in your mind on repeat. They formed together, creating a clear picture.

Price had been the one to have Simon toss you out. He was the reason for your harrowing spiral. He was why Simon had left you, treating you as if you didn’t exist. Just a pawn in his game, and you were too stupid to realize it all sooner.

“You did this?” you snapped. Price raised an eyebrow at you, but said nothing. “You… you’re the reason for all of this, and now you’re asking me for help to lie to him? Are you insane?”

His expression twitched into a flash of annoyance before returning back to a mask. Alarms rang in your head. “I’m doin’ this for Simon. You’re a little bird he fell into when he shouldn’t have, and now I’m tryin’ to fix it before it’s too late.”

“Bullshit. You’re doing this to save your own ass.”

“I’d highly advise watchin’ yourself, doll,” Price muttered in warning, eyes narrowed and expression darkened. “You don’t know anythin’ about what we do. Don’t know how dangerous it is for you to be involved with Simon, and for Simon to be involved with you. I’m savin’ Simon’s ass from fuckin’ up one too many times.”

The atmosphere was even thicker than before. It was hard to breathe. It made you queasy, as if poisoned with a heavy gas that may just kill you if you inhaled it for too long.

Price and you stared at one another, both stubborn and pulled taut. His anger simmered to a low boil once the two of you took that silence to gather your thoughts, but it didn’t entirely vanish. You could still see a flicker of a flame in his eyes.

He was dangerous. Not somebody you wanted to get tangled up in, but you had no choice. You were too deep into this webbed mess, and it was only a matter of time before it came to bite back at you.

“What’s wrong with him?” you finally asked, voice quiet and solemn. You crossed your arms over your chest, turning your gaze away from him so you didn’t have to see his display of weak sympathy and mock judgment.

“He fell in love with you, that’s what’s wrong,” Price bit back, sneering. “Now he’s weak. Can’t do his job correctly, got his head in the fuckin’ clouds, snaps at everybody who tries to talk to him. He’s riskin’ himself, riskin’ us, and I can’t afford losin’ a brother over some girl.”

Price’s words were bitter and cruel. It only irritated you, pricking at your skin until it drove you mad. All calmness that had festered in your brief silence washed away, replaced with the old flame of your anger.

“Losing him?” You laughed bitterly, throwing your head back in disbelief. “Sounds to me like it’s your fault and not mine. Have you ever thought that maybe you’re the reason he’s all fucked up?”

Price stood from where he sat on the couch. There were no longer kind features adorning his face. It was replaced with twisted anger, morphing into something unrecognizable. When he stepped closer to you until you were nearly nose to nose, it was like looking into the eyes of a feral wolf, ready to tear you apart at any given second.

“Wise words comin’ from an alcoholic,” he muttered lowly. It was a hard pill to swallow. “I was tryin’ to be nice, doll. I was givin’ you an option. A choice. You’re just as fucked up as Simon. The difference is that you’re goin’ down a path nobody can save you from. I can save Simon.”

The words slapped you harsh in the face. It was brutal and cruel, and he showed no remorse for the damage he was doing. This was a man who got what he wanted, hurting everybody in the process so long as he achieved it. His goal was to save Simon from his impending doom, and he was willing to take you down to make it happen.

“If you really cared about Simon, you would’ve never let him get to this state in the first place,” you retorted back just as cruelly. “It’s not my fault, and I’m not going to sit here and let you blame me for it. Take a look in the mirror and you’ll get your answer on why he’s being this way.”

Silence. Aching, deafening silence. It tinged the air with a sour smell. The two of you were making no moves of backing down, and it was simply a recipe for disaster.

You didn’t know why you were defending Simon. After what he did, he didn’t deserve your care. He didn’t deserve to have you bandage over his name from the countless wounds he’d inflicted on it by leaving you behind after taking all of you in this very apartment.

However, with a missing puzzle piece being added to the pile, that being Price, you couldn’t help but offer your support from afar. It was clear he had no hand in this game. He was a pawn, just as much as you.

“I’m not helping you toy with his feelings,” you whispered. This time, you sounded defeated rather than angry. Broken, sad, dejected. “He doesn’t deserve that.”

Price sucked in a sharp breath, stepping away but keeping his gaze pointed to you. He said nothing for the first few moments, eyes flickering over the worn out lines on your face. Empty eyes, ones that were surely full of life at some point in your life. Perhaps even lit up with Simon around.

He had taken that away from you, and it was only then he was realizing how cruel he was being. All of it, for the sake of protecting his own, of protecting Simon. He was so consumed by the thought of keeping Simon out of trouble, that he only sought to create more for you. A civilian, one who simply got wrapped up in the wrong crowd.

No outsider had ever cared for Simon like Price, Gaz, and Soap did. They were all each other had, bound together by an unfortunate calling. Nobody was allowed in, or out.

Then you came along, and Ghost had quickly become Simon again.

“You’re not goin’ to make this easy for me, are you?” Price sighed, shoulders deflating, releasing its built up tension.

“No. I’m not,” you agreed grimly.

“Stubborn one, you are,” he hummed, and dare you say it, he sounded amused. “Can see why Simon likes you.”

You glanced up at him, noting the faintest of smiles on his face. It was barely visible, a ghost on his lips, but even through your hazed exhaustion, you could see it.

“Tell you what,” he began, crossing his arms to match your stance. “I’ll talk to him. See what I can do. M’not promisin’ anythin’. This isn’t the type of life I want you wrapped up in, but I can see that you’re only goin’ to wallow here until you drop dead. I don’t want that blood on my hands.”

“What are you saying?” you asked suspiciously.

“I’m sayin’, that I’ll try to see if it could work. Again, m’not promisin’ you anythin’, doll. But if you’re the reason Simon can get his head out of his ass and stop doin’ sloppy work, then I’ll see what I can do.”

It was no guarantee, but Price was trying. One moment, he was begging you to hurt Simon to the point he’d never think of crawling back to you. Now, the story had changed, and he was making a peace offering.

You weren’t sure whether or not to trust him. You shouldn’t. It was a bad idea.

But the thought of seeing Simon again, to mend the broken bond you had formed, caused you to agree.

Simon was fucked. He’d drowned himself in a world of pure guilt ever since he’d blocked your number and called it quits. He was miserable, more than he’d ever been.

He didn’t feel guilt. In fact, he wasn’t supposed to feel anything at all. He was Ghost, after all, and ghosts didn’t feel. Yet with you, the narrative had switched. It was as if the gates of heaven had opened up, offering him a chance at redemption. He felt everything all at once – love, care, affection, longing, heartache.

Everything felt right with you. It was like he had finally found his home, only to have it torn away from the grasp of his hands. No matter how much he tried holding on to it, it proved a fruitless effort. It was gone before he even resided.

Simon’s mind became a jumbled mess. He returned to the empty shell he was before when nothing mattered and he only saw the world through a red-colored lens. It was straining, it was harsh. It hurt to wake up everyday and see a colorless world waiting for him.

His shattered, frail mind affected everything he’d ever known. Work became a chore. He was messy, careless, and the darkest part of him wished he would be caught so he could force himself into punishment for hurting an angel sent from above that was placed in his life to nurture him.

It was what he deserved. Simon was a man who fell in love, and Ghost was the devil that reminded him that he was undeserving. Unworthy.

You deserved better than him. You deserved the world, and Simon was the one who would take from it with greedy hands caked in the blood of God’s creations.

Everyday burned with an itch to see you, to send you a text. He missed you, but he hated himself more. It stopped him from reaching out, caused him to pull back on the reins and pace himself. Nothing could scratch the burning itch except for the brutal reminder that you deserved better.

The weeks were hell without you. He’d grown agitated at everything around him, going as far as to snap at Gaz and Johnny when they attempted to console him, to snap at Price out of unfiltered rage at what he made him do. He was too far gone, and the only foundation he had left was beginning to crumble, all because of him.

Damn Price for taking you away, and damn you for making him fall in love.

Simon didn’t know how much more he could take. It was eating away at him, like a parasite feeding off of its host, draining him of all soul. Even now, as he sat in his own apartment, hidden on his balcony and smoking all of his worries away with hopes of succumbing to the nasty tar that threatened to rise in his throat every time, he was decaying. Withering away, like a fragile flower.

The night was dark. The stars didn’t shine as brightly as they did on your balcony. The air didn’t feel as pure without you to share it with him. The smoke didn’t wisp up into silly, little shapes, and instead, tainted the air with polluted illness.

It was positively suffocating.

As Simon nursed the cigarette to the very end, stubbing it out with his boot and carelessly leaving it littered with the rest of them on his balcony, he heard the faint knock on his door. He silently prayed it was death, here to take him away and rid him of his pain for good.

It wasn’t death, but it was damn near close.

“Price,” he grumbled at the sight of the older man. It was too late for him to make an appearance, so he wasn’t sure why he did. Maybe Price had truly given up on him and was here to offer mercy.

Price didn’t care for greetings, stepping past Simon and into his apartment. Simon followed after him with his gaze, mentally preparing himself for another lecture. It was bound to happen at this point, seeing as Price was fed up.

Simon knew he was putting their lives on the line by being reckless. He just didn’t have it in him to care.

Closing the door behind him, Simon kept his distance, not uttering a word until Price spoke first. The man in question lingered around his apartment, seeming to stall with time, too choked up for words.

“You need somethin’, sir?” Simon finally asked. Price lifted his eyes to look at Simon. For a moment, they were unreadable. Masking away his thoughts, tucking them far in the back of his mind.

Price let out a deep exhale through his nostrils. He stood there in silence for what felt like eternity. Simon could see the gears shifting in his mind, working overtime.

“Go and get your bird back, Simon,” Price sighed, but to Simon, it sounded like church bells ringing on a Sunday morning, beckoning him home.

so many of y'all thought the last part was the end, but i'm not that cruel ;( i promise

[hello-eden]

One or two hearts

Danny Damien Felt the Buzzing of the core in their stomach. The tests were positive and everything is stable. When they got back in contact with Phantom they did not expect this to happen.

Dani and Dan were hurt in the same battle that killed them. It had been over 300 years since the battle. Every time they think of the time that passed between the battle and their reincarnation they feel an aching pain in their core. It's been 300 years since dani and Dan were reverted back to their cores. It has also been 300 years since Danny Damian and Phantom were separated.

Since Phantom lost their human half they were not able to revert the cores back to hafas. Now with Danny Damien back they are safely able to bring them back. There may be side effects with them incubating the cores but they are so worth it. getting their family back is worth everything.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tim did not expect to find what he did.

When Tim searched through security footage to look at how Stephanie set up her prank. He was expecting to find out that maybe she had an accomplice. Cass had been in town that week. He did not expect to find video of Damien having a meltdown in the hallway of the family wing.

When Tim first saw Damian on the footage he expected him to go to his room. What Actually happened in the footage was that he went from agitated to in tears. Tim rewound the footage back and turned on the audio. Damian turned into the hallway and held up his phone like he was waiting for someone to answer the phone. Damien's shoulders relaxed when it appeared someone had answered the phone but it did not seem to calm them down

“Sam” Damian seemed to start breathing heavily as they talked “Sam, the test was positive” they seemed to wait for a Response on the other line and whatever answer they got made them burst into tears “You're the first one I called. I just got back from frostbites. He said they're stable.”Tim had never seen Damien cry before, maybe on the verge of tears after a bad fear gas attack but never in tears.

“Of course I tried to call him. I think he's in some sort of meeting I couldn't get through” Damien took a few deep breaths as they listened to the other voice on the line reply.”The only symptoms I should be worried about in the beginning are tiredness but I was warned of nausea as well”

Tim was very concerned as they continued to talk about symptoms and making appointments.  Tim assumed frostbite was a doctor but there was no one in any files with a name close to frostbite nor a code name. Tim was checking for anyone named Sam In their system but with no last name or description or even gender they couldn't really find much to narrow down. 

The date of security footage was 2 weeks ago. Tim had just finished the case he was working on when Stephanie did her prank. He thought he would get revenge for the prank not to figure out Damian was ill. now that Tim thought it over Damian's did seem to be tired. He had no idea that he'd been ill but he was a lot less snarky. Tim had a thought that he'd worn himself out with training or was not in a talkative mode. In the footage Damian seemed to lose all of the posh words and Superior tone he usually uses.

“I'm having a kid not a parasite”

Someone could be screaming right in Tim's ear and they wouldn't even flinch. Tim had no idea what to think with that sentence. What does Damien mean they're having a kid. 

Tim thought over the symptoms that they were talking about. All of them did seem like pregnancy symptoms. Tim didn't even know  Damien could get pregnant. They were 17. By the way the conversation continued to go it seemed that the pregnancy would be heavily monitored. 

Tim had so many questions. Who was the other parent? How is it possible for them to be pregnant? So many questions were raised in their head. Tim was happy that they were alone when they were looking at the footage, otherwise someone would ask and they did not want to explain. 

Tim does not want to be the one to explain this to bruce. 

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(If anyone wants to add on to this I would love to see people's add ons.) 

Is based on this post