#one minute their there the next its silence they don't even get a chance to say good bye

[masonjarart]

watching pac disappearing from fits pov is so distressing he goes so quietly no one even realizes they're all doing other things fits the first to notice he's not around he desperately searches the map looking for him bro one second he's there and the next he's just gone he looked away for a fucking second and he disappeared he's alone in purgatory fit cant protect him like he promised he would man phil tells him to go get his husband and he doesn't bother making a thing out of it he just tells him to point him in the right direction I'm distraught

[ohtobeleah]

Something that goes without saying is how uncertain Logan really is about sleeping in the same space as another person. Sure, he'll commit to the fun beforehand….The foreplay, the sex, the highs.

But the inevitable act of sleeping beside someone, terrifies him.

We see it in Origin, we see it in Days of Future Past. Sometimes while Logan is sleeping, his claws come out when he feels under duress. Nightmares are a common occurrence for this man, not a night goes by where he isn't waking in the dead of night to the ghost of his past.

And I'd like to think of all the Logans running around the multiverse, that the Worst!Logan has surely been through some things. He's never experienced true rest. Not until he met you.

“I'll sleep on the couch.” Its common at the beginning of whatever the dynamic between the two of you is. Logan ends up back at your cafe, or in your living-room, bathroom, kitchen or bed—but he never stays beside you for longer than a few minutes after. Not because he doesn't crave that intimacy or true human connection, but because the idea of losing you to his own mutation truly scares the ever-living fuck out of him.

But one night, you catch him off-guard. So off guard that Logan doesn't even have a counter proposal ready.

“Ill join you,” You beam, padding down the hallway with your blanket and pillow wrapped in your arms. “Somethings bothing you and with friends like me and Wade, that shits gonna come up eventually,” You ramble. As you sit beside Logan on the lounge he slept on more often than his own bed, he catches a glimpse of a few noticeable scars on your back. Scars where his claws had once accidentally taken over in an otherwise romantic moment between the two of you. “So, get talking pops.”

“Don't call me pops.” Logan sighs as he opens his body up for you to snuggle up against him. “It's nothing I can't handle, didn't anyone ever tell you not to stick your nose where it doesn't belong?”

“Are you trying to tell me that I don't belong here?” You counter quickly, playing Logan’s logic against himself. “Me? Resident of this timeline? Doesn't belong right here next to you?”

“Go fuck yourself,” Logan smiles all the while trying to keep his brooding man mask on. But with you he feels ever atom of his being igniting with desire and unconditional love. “I worry I'll hurt you, while I'm sleeping,” Logan explains as you listen to his heartbeat inside his chest. Snuggled on the lounge in your apartment. “You don't know how much that thought terrifies me.”

“Hmm,” You hum in response. “Perhaps the question you should be asking yourself Lo, is what if the nightmares, what if the fear stops, when you allow yourself to rest with someone you love?” It was a bold word to use, and even though it was rarely, if ever used, there wasn't another word in the English language to describe how Logan felt about you. Or how you felt about him.

And its a thought that's never crossed Logans mind before. He frowns, thinking it over in the late-night silence. You fall asleep there, right with your head on Logans chest as he tru thinks.

Only to wake up in a tangled mess of sheets, with Logan snorning next to you as the early morning sun kisses his golden, aging skin. Its the first night in years he hasn't woken in screaming terror.

“Tell me told you so and I'll turn you into a skewer.” Logan mumbles as you pepper him with kisses across his exposed back.

“I think I'll take my chances with you, Lo,” You chuckle to yourself. “I'll make you some coffee.”

@a-reader-and-a-writer Canon Ilya universe content

Ilya

[cheezeybread]

Picture Floyd and Jade going to see Yuu for random Azul business reasons. But its Game night with Yuu, Deuce and Ace. the twins get invited to join in and totally forget about whatever Azul wanted.

game niiiight, heck yeah!

I love little scenes like this- don't get me wrong, I love big angsty stuff, but it's a little reminder that these guy are just teenagers, after all!

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . *

"Shriiiimpy~" Floyd cooed out, raising a fist to knock on the door again. In contrast to his attempt at a smooth voice, he rapped his knuckles on the door so hard that the old wood practically starting shaking!

"Easy, brother, unless you'd like your paycheck to go towards fixing up the door to this place," Jade remarked, reaching a hand out and rapping on the wood with his own knuckles, as if he were showing his twin how it should be done.

Floyd only stuck his tongue out at Jade, lifting up his fist to the door once more. They've knocked and called out several times already, so wasn't it their right to bust the door down? It was, right? That seemed like it would be the right thing to do. Besides, Azul got antsy whenever both of the eels were out and about on errands, not fully trusting them to get the job done exactly how he wanted. But it was just giving Shrimpy a message, so how hard could it be?

Wait, what were they here to tell them, again? Ah, Jade probably remembered.

Floyd rapped his knuckles on the door again, getting more annoyed with every knock. Certainly they weren't ignoring him, were they? The little Shrimpy wouldn't do such a thing, not to him!

"I'm getting real tired of this, Jade," he grumbled, eyes narrowing.

Sensing his brother's change in mood, Jade took a deep breath before reaching into his pocket and drawing out a ring of keys. Wordlessly, he flicked through each one before singling out an old, rusty key. He leaned down and stuck it in the keyhole, twisting the door unlocked, and opening it.

"Why didn't you try that ten minutes ago?" Floyd snapped, amused despite his attitude.

"I thought it to be rather rude to barge into YN's place without knocking first and giving them a chance to invite us in," Jade replied, giving a coy smile "Besides, it wouldn't do for them to know we have a key to Ramshackle, now, would it?"

"Ahhhh, Jade, you evil genius!" Floyd laughed loudly, slapping his brother on the back.

As soon as they stepped into the building, faint sounds of screams and laughter could be heard few rooms over. Jade nodded to the sound, silently telling his brother to start heading over that way. The two had nothing to fear, of course, from anybody who may be in the building, but it wouldn't do to have their guard down at any point in time.

Following the noise, the two found themselves peering into a doorway- the doorway to the Ramshackle guest room, to be more precise. It looked cleaner than the last time the twins had seen it- which was way back when Azul took Ramshackle as collateral for YN's contract. Now the room was emptied of its trash, was dusted and scrubbed clean, and even had some decent-looking furniture in it.

And lounging around the room, gathered around a table, was YN, Ace, and Deuce.

"No, no, no, you cheater, that's against the rules!" Ace cried out, looking on the verge of tears as he slammed a fist into the table

"Is not!" Deuce cackled, sticking his tongue out.

"Boys, chill out-" YN started, snapping a finger to get their attention. Despite sounding annoyed, it was clear that YN was enjoying themselves, as well "Grim's sleeping in the next room! And don't break my table slamming onto it!"

"Slamming?" Ace tried very hard to contain his laughter, putting a hand over his mouth "That'swhatme'n'yourmomdidlastnight-"

"WHAT DID YOU SAY ABOUT MY MOTHER?????" Deuce yelled, standing up in a fighting position.

"Chill, dude, chill, I was talking about YN's mom!"

"My mother's in a different universe." YN deadpanned.

"...oh." Ace went into an awkward silence after that.

And then there was a screech of absolute terror from behind the Eels, and in unison, they flicked their heads around to see what had caused such a racket. On the ground was a terrified Grim. He was holding a blanket around his shoulders, and clutched it as if he were worried it would be stolen. He stared up at the two brothers with wide eyes, any sleep gone.

"YNNNNNN!" He cried, darting in between their feet and launching himself at the prefect, burying himself in their arms.

"Oh, Jade, Floyd!" YN seemed unperturbed at the sudden appearance of the two as she stroked Grim's back in comfort, despite the terror in Ace and Deuce's face "What are you two doing here?"

"And where did they come from?" Deuce whispered. "How did they get in...?"

Ignoring Deuce's valid questions, Jade bowed his head slightly towards YN in greeting "We have a message for you from-"

"WHAT are you guys doing?" Floyd interrupted, unable to contain his excitement at the situation. He burst into the room and flopped down on the floor, his legs crossed. He looked over the board game spread out on the table and grinned "Don't tell me you're a nerd like Azul, Shrimpy! Board games?"

"Board games!" YN agreed, laughing.

"We- we're playing Monopoly right now," Deuce offered, trying to regain his composure as he adjusted his sitting position on the couch.

"And then we were going to play charades, maybe even a game of hide and seek, too!" YN grinned "Ace and Deuce got permission from Riddle to spend the night here tonight-"

"Yeah, after busting our chops doing homework and study sessions...and cleaning...and lawnwork," groaned Ace.

"You should join us!" YN said eagerly, clapping their hands together.

"Join you?" Jade questioned, stepping into the room with a small smile.

"Yeah, you guys are my friends, too! Come on, it'll be fun, right, guys?" YN looked to the group for their approval. Grim refused to look at the eels, looking like a pouting child. Ace glanced towards Floyd from the corner of his eye, scooting away casually. Deuce thought about it and shrugged.

"Well, I mean, playing charades and hide and seek would be more fun with more people," he conceded "Ace?"

"I mean- yeah, sure, I guess," he shrugged, "As long as neither of you try to take a bite out of me, okay?"

Biting at the air in front of Ace hard enough to make his teeth clack together loudly, Floyd grinned "I'll try!"

"I suppose I shall, as well," Jade chuckled, taking a seat next to YN and folding his hands in his lap, Azul's task long forgotten "So, how do we play?"

-----

Azul drummed his fingers on his desk impatiently, glancing at the clock every few seconds. It was well after midnight.

He had sent the twins on a task that should have taken no longer than twenty minutes, and they had been gone for three hours. Grumbling under his breath about how hard it was to find good help these days, Azul reached for his phone and called Jade's number.

It kept ringing....no one picked it up.

He called it two more times, with no luck.

He then tried Floyd's, but the call ended almost immediately. The bastard pressed the decline button! Two more tries to Jade's number, to no avail.

On the off-chance (which was probably not an off-chance at this point) that the two were still at Ramshackle, Azul dialed up YN's number.

"hello?" they answered almost immediately, their voice in a hushed whisper.

"Ah, yes, Prefect, I'm calling to see if you know the whereabouts of my workers," He said without missing a beat, standing up from his chair and making his way over to one of the sofas to sit.

"Shhh, they might hear you over the phone!" YN hissed. There were muffled sounds of movement, and when they spoke again, their voice was a little louder "What were you asking again?"

"Floyd and Jade," Azul said firmly, pressing his fingers up against the bridge of his nose. He was starting to lose his patience.

"Ohhhh, yeah, about that-" The prefect's voice was cut off by a loud thud, and they screamed.

"FOUND YOU SHRIMPY!" Azul could hear a familiar voice over the phone.

"Floyd? Floyd!" He barked into the phone, hoping the eel could hear him "Come back right now, do you hear me!"

But apparently he could not, since Azul could only hear Floyd and YN laughing heartily over something. Then there were more hushed whispers, and Floyd giggled like a fool before his voice was heard clearly

"Oh- oh yeah, hey Azul-" he said, barely containing his laughter "Can me and Jade stay the night here?"

"No, Floyd, the two of you have to open the lounge tomorrow, it's Saturday, that's one of our busiest-"

"Thanks, boss-man, see you later!"

Click.

Azul threw his phone to the ground in frustration, slamming his head down into the nearest pillow, and let out a very muffled scream.

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . *

[heeliopheelia]

"just hold me" (jay x reader)

genre: fluff word count: 0.6k requested by nonnie ♡

a/n: hello, it's your very much sleep deprived crazy writer again :)) i planned on posting a shorter drabble tonight but i think i'm literally just unable to write anything under 0.5k... i'll try the next time tho!! hope you guys like this one, i kinda love but hate it at the same time <33

masterlist

"Jay," you whine, trying to wiggle out of his grip weakly. "Get off. It's too hot."

"I don't care, I'm cold," he scoffs as he pulls you closer, arms tightly wrapped around your waist.

As much as you love cuddling your boyfriend and it's a rare occasion that he actually wants it more than you do, the stuffiness in your bedroom is already enough to prevent you from laying comfortably. And with Jay's body heat added to that? Au revoir good night's sleep.

"Then put your goddamn shirt on," you grumble, finally succeeding at prying his hand away from you.

Jay huffs, pressing his lips to the back of your ear. "I would but you're the one wearing it now."

A smile creeps upon your lips and you press them together to contain your laughter somehow. The black fabric of his favorite t-shirt is indeed snugly wrapped around your body. You're glad your back is turned to your boyfriend's face as you know that the second he would've noticed your smile, you wouldn't be standing a chance against him anymore and you'd have to surrender yourself to a whole night of the sweet suffocation.

When you feel his hand sneaking around your waist again, you're quick to slap it away, covering up your laugh with a loud cough.

"You're mean," he pouts which is so out of character for him and only makes the urge to laugh and give in harder for you.

So instead you wave your hand at him dismissively. "Go to sleep, you big baby."

You listen to his steady breathing for long enough to determine that he's most likely already asleep, slowly, you wiggle yourself backwards until your back meets his toned chest.

And you can hear his incoherent mumbling of fine's and whatever's underneath his nose before the blissful silence comes upon you two at last. You sigh from tiredness, feeling the burden of entire day weighting down on your eyelids with each minute.

There's one thing missing though – one significant detail that fends off your very needed sleep no matter how hard you try to put this feeling to an end. And then after two more minutes of trying, you give up with a sigh, well aware that there are no real chances of you actually falling asleep tonight without feeling Jay's arms around your body.

"Well, would you look at that? Knew you'd come crawling back," he teases only one second later and you close your eyes, realizing you've just been caught acting up against your own pride. "Just can't get enough of me, can you?"

"Shut up," you mumble, pushing your body even more into his chest, ignoring his snickering. "Just hold me, please?"

Jay huffs out a laughter and you can just hear the teasing smile that spreads on his pretty lips. "You're always so cute when you're sleepy. As you wish, my baby."

Without needing to prompt him any further, his arms wrap around you in an instant, his body heat engulfing you pleasantly. You're too tired to pay any mind to being too hot, and you just sigh out of content, snuggling even closer to him. His fingers slip underneath the hem of his your t-shirt and he caresses your skin with his calloused thumbs soothingly. Now, with your boyfriend's lips on your neck and his slow breathing matching its pace with yours, you allow the tiredness to take over and you finally fall asleep, tightly tucked in Jay's arms.

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[withleeknow]

Can I req something for the milestone event with lee know using this prompt „time passes slower without you.”? ✨

navigation / masterlist / ko-fi

patience is a virtue, everybody knows that.

you know it too. the only issue? patience is a virtue that you don't have.

you're an impatient person by nature, born with an inherent restlessness within your bones that keys you up more often than you'd like to admit. in school, you were always thinking about your next degree. with work, you're always thinking about the next big thing, the future position you'll hopefully land once you gain enough experience. you're always waiting for something else, constantly looking forward to the days ahead instead of living in the now. it's a personal flaw, you're well aware of this.

it happens when it comes to even the most mundane things. what cafe should you try next weekend, even if you're not even half done with the caramel macchiato you're holding in your hands? what movie should you watch next, even if the one playing on your tv screen hasn't gone into its second act yet?

your impatience already flares up on a daily basis, but it's even more amplified and unbearable whenever minho is away. it doesn't help that he's often gone for weeks, if not months on end. you're always counting down the days until he's back before he's even out the door.

"just one more week, yeah?"

his words hang heavy in the silence of your bedroom. your phone is on speaker, set against the pillow next to yours so you could pretend like he's here with you when you close your eyes. you try to facetime every day even if it's only for fifteen, twenty minutes. just to catch up on each other's day and at least see each other for a while before you go to sleep. it's bittersweet, being able to look at him and hear him talk but only from the digital void of your phone.

even though you tend to hide from him how you really feel, how much you actually miss him and wish for him to be back by your side, you think it must still bleed through from time to time. be it the subtle way your voice drops during conversation or how your eyes glaze over with sadness just a little bit when you stare at his handsome face for too long on video call.

you know minho is trying to comfort you. he wouldn't be a very good partner if he can't tell that his own girlfriend is having a hard time without him, would he? and it's not like you bitch and moan any chance you get. no, you always try to hide it from him because it's not his fault that he has to be away sometimes, not like he's choosing to leave you just for the fun of it.

you know his gentle reminder is meant to mitigate your ache, but it only makes you be more aware of how time doesn't seem to pass when he's not here. the clock stops ticking the second he's gone, and you feel like you have to drag yourself through every minute of every hour and repeat the process for days and weeks and months.

"one week is too long," you say quietly. "time passes slower without you."

seven days. one hundred and sixty eight hours. ten thousand and eighty minutes. it's practically nothing compared to the time that has already passed, but that doesn't mean that you get to miss him any less even though it's only a two-hour flight away.

minho doesn't really reply directly to what you said. instead, he tries to distract you with anecdotes of his day - like a funny looking pigeon he saw on the street earlier or a cute photo of soonie that his mom sent him. it works a little. he considers it a success when you crack a smile and giggle at his theatrics.

he keeps the conversation light until you're biting back a yawn and he knows it's time to let you get some rest. even when you're saying your goodnights, neither of you mention what day it'll be tomorrow. you're sure that in the morning you'll wake up to messages from him - not entirely poetic because it's not his specialty, but they'll still be infinitely and wonderfully sincere. you don't bring it up in case he feels guilty, and you think he doesn't bring it up because the reminder that he won't be here might make you sleep restlessly tonight.

you fall asleep with a little bit of a heavy heart, and wake up when the sound of your doorbell ringing fills your apartment at precisely 7:06am. the other side of the bed still cold and devoid of your minho, but it's not the first thing that you notice like you do every morning.

no, the first thing that you register today is the vivid discomfort of having your peace disturbed so early on when it should be a day that you get to spend feeling nothing but comfort and contentment. or at least, as content as you can get without minho here. you carry that irritation with you all the way to the front door, wild bedhead and all.

the door swings open.

you're a deer in the headlights and suddenly your displeasure is vanished, gone in a second like it was never there to begin with.

"surpriseee!"

a sheepish greeting.

you rub your eyes, then pinch yourself on the arm.

you're not really sure what happens next. it's all just a blur of tears and ugly sobbing as you launch yourself into his arms, almost making him knock into the suitcase that's still perched right beside him. the bouquet of peonies in his hand becomes an unfortunate victim as it falls to the floor after the impact, but minho leaves it be, in favor of holding you as tightly as you're holding onto him.

his fingers tangled in your hair, your arms wound around his neck securely like you're afraid you're still dreaming and he'll disappear if you let go. you don't question why he's here; you just accept that he is.

minho peppers warm kisses to your cheeks, your jawline, your forehead and your lips. it's graceless and it's damp from your tears but neither of you could bring yourself to care. he murmurs with an upward quirk of his mouth where he's pressing his smile to your lips, all affection, all love. "happy birthday, baby."

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all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 28.03.2024]

[dreamlandcreations]

Knowledge and Power (I)

Darth Maul x Queen of Naboo!Reader

Summary: Maul is afraid that he is not strong enough...

Warnings: angst, nightmares/visions/past and possible future trauma, enemies to lovers, implied smut (naked in bed together), hurt/comfort, fluff, paraphrasing the "Let the past die. Kill it, if you have to. That's the only way to become what you were meant to be." quote, ?implied? plotting murder, reader description (long hair), some soulmate-ish/dyad-like stuff at the end, not proofread so probably a mess 🙈

Started for the Sith/Jedi secrets prompt but I guess it works with Death of the self too

A sequel of last year's @maulweek fic, Beauty and the Beast

~ 1,3 K words

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Maul was having another nightmare. There were not many tells but you know him by now. He usually sleeps eerily still, his breathing so calm and hearts so slow that you used to (and sometimes still do) have to check if he was alive when you woke up in the middle of the night, not used to having someone sleep next to you.

The nightmares were getting more and more frequent, and if you were correct, increasingly upsetting too. He refused to tell you about them though. That was about to change tonight!

You shake him awake as gently as you can but still find yourself pinned beneath him but instead of the night's previous loving embrace, he grabs you by your throat, ready to get rid of the threat.

It only takes a second or two for him to realise what's happening but it's enough to cause damage in the already fragile bond between you. He rips himself away so fast you can hardly follow, only barely reaching him before he could leave the bed.

You pull him back on you slowly, knowing that the skin to skin contact will help ground him after whatever he had seen. After a little hesitation, he nuzzles into your neck while pulling you impossibly close, holding you tightly with slightly trembling hands as his breathing starts to even out while you caress him ever so gently.

Lately he has been training you and your handmaidens, relentlessly trying to increase his own power too in his freetime. Something was clearly bothering him and instead of turning to you, he started to drift away, like he was preparing to leave.

"You are not alone. Please, tell me what's wrong," you murmur into his ear, and sigh when you feel him tense up again. "Even if I can't help, it could take some of the weight off you if you would just share."

He leans back on his elbows to look into your eyes, contemplating your words for a long minute before finally speaking. "If I tell you, it will put you in even more danger."

"While not knowing will keep me safe?" You question him with a disapproving frown.

Maul leans on his side, holding his weight on one arm so he can cup your face before he steals a kiss, lingering for a long moment then he parts and answers as he keeps brushing your cheek with his thumb.

"If there is a chance that he will spare you because I have not revealed his identity..."

"Is there a chance he would spare you?"He looks away instead of replying to your rather biting cut in, which is enough of an answer on its own. "I also made a promise to protect you, if you think I'll let..."

He turns back to you sharply, his intense gaze no longer dull yellow light in the dark but glowing flames of almost completely red as he practically growls, "I can't lose you."

Silence. Pain. Paralyzing helplessness. Does he truly think you feel any different about him?

You can hardly breathe as you plead, "Tell me what you dream about."

You almost think he will shut you down again but whatever he sees or feels has him give in, only a little though.

"It is not always the same." He starts, pausing to think just how much to tell you but you don't interrupt or demand more, just patiently wait for him.

The truth is, that it is always the same in terms of how it ends. With death. Only he can't tell you that. So he opens with something less ominous but you quickly connect the dots.

"You will have to go to Coruscant soon."

He is there, you think. The mysterious master who is a threat to you both, no matter how much Maul tries to deny it.

"What if we don't go?" you contemplate your options out loud.

"He will come here."

At that statement your brain races with the pieces of this infuriating puzzle that you already gathered. And then it strucks you. Of course! It has to be...

"No, no, no!" Maul gets up and paces in panic. It is unlike anything you have seen from him so far.

"I killed you! I just killed you!" he chants in desperate cries as you hug your blanket and hurry to him.

"Look at me!" you demand as you grab his arm and turn him to face you. His face kept in place between your palms, letting your covers go while forcing him to do as you said, you try to sound soothing as you weakly attempt to reassure you both, "I'm here. I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere. And neither are you!"

He breathes out a shaky breath and carefully rests his forehead against yours.

"I am not strong enough to protect you," he whispers in defeat.

"You don't have to fight him alone." You remind him as you circle your arms behind his neck, holding him tightly as you keep murmuring, "You are not alone. I'm here."

Once he calmed down a little, you pull him back to bed, letting him get lost in the touch of you again as you aimlessly caress each other. He unties your braid, spreading your hair on the pillows like a halo and plays with a strand as he tries to stay with you in the moment.

"Love, forming bonds of commitment... It is not something either side embraces, right?" He pulls back and looks confused at your seemingly sudden change of topic but confirms your theory so you go on. "It seems to me that you limit yourself to what he taught you about the Force and that is not even half of the things you could study if something is missing on both sides. Wouldn't you agree?"

He doesn't answer but you know he is thinking about it, you can also tell he is not convinced, at all.

You sit up, making him move as well. Keeping the remaining covers to your chest with one hand, you grip his jaw in your other hand as you anger starts to show. "He is the past, don't let that define you! He can't have you! If he has to die so you'll be completely free of this torment then he will die."

"How?" he growls at you impatiently, like you are talking nonsense.

In response you lean in and nip at his lower lip before sliding away and reaching under the bed.

"I was going to give you this tomorrow."

"What is this?" He looks almost adorable as he eyes the package. Turning it around this way and that way like it is a foreign concept.

"A gift," you huff. "Open it!"

He does and... there's no reaction. Literally, nothing. He stares at the ancient books with a strange expression and says nothing, so you start to explain why you thought to acquire them in the first place.

"I hardly doubt he knows about the Jedi ways, maybe you can find something useful in there. Perhaps it will give you a new perspective, maybe even help to find your own path.

With that, the last barriers that he was adamant to keep up had crumbled between you, his soul wide open for you, connecting the two of you through the Force as it was meant to be.

You gasp at the feeling but you don't have time to question him, Maul surges forward, grabbing you by your nape and capturing your lips in a kiss, devouring you with a hunger even more intense than usual.

That night was the true end of Darth Maul, for he was no longer a Sith apprentice in any way. He was on a new path, going into blindly to fully explore the world and the Force anew. He will never let anyone else define his fate from now on, he vowed. Although he still had doubts, he was no longer afraid of the future because he knew you would be with him, always.

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[entirelysein-e]

『 Baby said 』

☼ synopsis: After a rough day at work you want to relax but Choji just has so much energy to spend, you let him eat you out until he tires himself out

☼ character: Choji

☼ wc: 0.9k

☼ cw: gn!reader, afab!reader, cunnilingus, fingering

☼ notes: uh hello windbreaker fandom I'm joining you guys for the giggles!! 🥹🫶 || don't forget to sign up for the taglist and that requests are open!

Baby said when you're talking I go dead, shut your mouth, give me your head...

Your head was pounding especially bad this day and you were counting down the minutes until you could leave work, just wanting to head home to cuddle up in bed. When the time finally came you made your way home as quick as possible, a small smile appeared on your lips when your boyfriend was already home so he would cuddle up with you in bed.

And you were right, he wanted to cuddle but he had so much to tell you as well. “And then- then he really said that! Can you believe it?” he asked excitedly and laughed along, telling you about what happened after the fight on the weekend - a fight you happened to be involved in and a story you've heard at least a hundred times these past few days and normally you wouldn't mind but today your head threatened to explode if he said one more word.

“Babe- Baby… CHOJI TOMIYAMA” Your voice boomed through the room, laced with desperation and much louder than intended. Choji now sat up, previously having laid on his back, limbs stretched out across the bed and your body

“Am I in trouble?” He asked softly, his expression similar to a hurt puppy, hating it when you used his whole name in a situation like this.

“N-No- I didn't mean to scream, but you talk nonstop, not even giving me a chance to tell you that my head is killing me” you explained seriously as you let your eyes close. The man next to you just hummed in acknowledgement, a pout resting on his face when he looked over to you - He just had way too much energy to be laying around in silence but really wanted to respect you.

The way his charcoal colored eyes burnt holes into your body didn't go unnoticed by you, despite your eyes being shut tight. You let go of a long sigh.

“How about you do the talking between my legs, hm?” you asked and a small smirk started to form on your lips when you felt him shift before taking his place between your legs, wasting no time to get rid of your pajama pants along with your panties.

When he spread your folds all you could hear was a chuckle “Look how wet you already are for me. Does my voice turn you on so much?” He asked with a shit eating grin to which you only groaned and pulled him towards your core by the hair.

“Just shut up,” you mumbled quite flustered and for once, Choji decided to listen. The next thing you could feel was his warm tongue dragging through your folds completely, licking a long stripe from your entrance all the way to your clit and back down.

“You're reacting so well to m-” he was praising you but caught off guard by your hips bucking into his face, making him chuckle against your cunt before sucking on your sensitive clit which earned him a satisfied moan.

“Less talking, more licking. Understood.” He teased you and let his tongue dance through your folds once more with a zigzag motion. When the tip of his tongue reached your entrance he pushed it in to get a good taste of your juices. A loud moan escaped your lips the moment he continued to fuck you with his skilled tongue, his calloused thumb starting to rub small circles onto your clit to make your head spin. The lewd slurping noises coming from Choji almost drowned out your own moans as you neared your high - and who would Choji be to deny you your much needed release? Without missing a beat he pulled back slightly just to spit right onto your clit, making his thumb glide smoothly over the bundle of nerves while his tongue returned to its previous place, thrusting into your tight cunt.

Your hands were harshly pulling on his hair as his name fell off your lips like a prayer when the knot in your lower abdomen finally snapped and the slurping noises of the man between your thighs turned into whimpers and soft moans when he got to taste your release.

Without giving you any time to recover, his tongue trailed up to your clit, giving it more attention. He was busy flicking your sensitive bundle of nerves around and gently sucking on it, that he almost neglected your poor cunt, stuffing it with two of his fingers the second your moans grew in pitch again and like the menace that he is, he started to curl his fingers right into your sweet spot without mercy - throwing you into yet another orgasm.

His goal was clear now, tire himself out on your poor pussy until you felt better and he was tired, whatever would come first. The pace he set was relentless, unbothered by the way you screamed and cried his full name in pleasure this time, his tongue and fingers kept working their magic.

Three… four… five… you lost your count after the sixth orgasm, any touch borderline painful now and the man between your legs seemed to grow tired, his licks slowing down and only once you pushed him away, far too overstimulated, he admitted to being tired. Choji’s head was resting against one of your thighs as his eyes fell shut, slipping away into a sweet slumber along with you - the puddle of cum in his underwear long forgotten and an issue for after this nap.

Baby said let me taste your silhouette, you can talk between my legs...

[bat-mom-writer]

Not Just A Mother

Reader(wife) X Bruce Wayne(husband)

Summery: You married Bruce Wayne, not out of love, but because Bruce wanted a mother figure for his sons. But what happens when Bruce starts showing a more caring side?

(I do NOT own any DC characters)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Tim, did you finish your homework?" You called out, your footsteps echoing through the grand hallways of Wayne Manor as you made your way to your non biological son's room.

"I'll get it later," Tim's voice drifted back, a hint of procrastination in his tone.

"Not a chance, young man," you responded firmly, your heels clicking against the marble floor. "You know the rules. No gadgets or superhero shenanigans until your schoolwork is done. So get off the computer."

Tim sighed heavily, his eyes never leaving his computer. "Ten more minutes," he protested, his fingers typing away at lightning speed.

You signed but said nothing more upon stopping at the open door of Tim's room. You knew Bruce didn't appreciate you interference in nightly heroics, but you had your own way of managing the boys. Just as you was about to remind Tim of the consequences, a deep voice resonated from behind you.

"Listen to your mother, Tim."

You spun around to face Bruce, who had emerged from the shadows of the hallway. His gaze was stern but not unkind, the same look he often gave when you discussed the boys' schooling. You felt a small twinge of relief that he wasn't upset with your intervention.

Tim looked up from his computer, his eyes wide with surprise. He had never heard Bruce call you "mother" before. It was always Mrs. Wayne or by your name. The change in tone was subtle but significant, hinting at a shift in their relationship that none of them had anticipated.

Your cheeks flush under Bruce's eyes. "Thank you, Mr. Wayne," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. You noticed the warmth in his smile and the way he held your gaze for a beat too long. You felt a strange mix of comfort and discomfort, the kind that comes with the sudden realization that the ground beneath you is not as solid as it once seemed.

Bruce gave a curt nod before turning to leave. His footsteps grew quieter as he moved away, the sound of his retreating figure leaving an unsettling silence in its wake. Your mind raced, trying to piece together the puzzle of his behavior. Was it the stress of their sham marriage finally getting to him? Or perhaps a genuine affection that had been buried beneath layers of duty and obligation?

Over the next few days, Bruce continued to act more affectionate towards you, slipping in gentle touches and kind words where there had once been a stoic distance. You felt torn between acknowledging the change and fearing it was just a temporary shift in mood. After all, their marriage was built on a foundation of convenience, not love. You're there to provide a stable home life for his sons, not to be the object of his affection.

One evening, as Bruce sat in his study, you gathered your courage and approached him, clutching a set of documents in your hands. "I need to talk to you about something," you began, your voice tentative. "It's about a new deal that's been offered to the company."

Bruce looked up from his paperwork, his eyes reflecting the glow of the computer screens. "What is it?" he asked, his tone neutral.

"It's about a new acquisition," you said, looking down at the papers. "The board thinks it's a good opportunity."

Bruce took the papers from you, his hands brushing against yours for a moment longer than necessary. You felt a spark of electricity, and you quickly withdrew your hand, hoping he hadn't noticed. You watched as he skimmed through the pages, his brow furrowing slightly as he digested the information.

"What's your take on it?" he asked, his gaze still on the contract.

"I...I don't know if it's my...my place to say, Mr. Wayne" You stuttered, your heart racing. You had never been one to voice your opinions in matters like this.

Bruce's gaze lifted from the documents, his eyes locking with your. "Your opinion is important to me," he said firmly. "We're partners in this, remember?"

The words hung in the air, thick with an unspoken promise. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself. "Well," you began, your voice stronger now, "I think it's....sketchy. There's something about the terms that doesn't sit right with me."

Bruce's eyes never left yours as he listened intently. His thumb traced the edge of the paper, the only sign of his contemplation. "Then tell them I'm not interested," he said abruptly, handing the contract back to you.

Your eyes widened in shock. You had expected him to disagree, to argue the merits of the deal and the importance of the board's suggestions. Instead, he had deferred to your judgment, something he had never done before. "Are you sure?" you asked.

"Absolutely," Bruce said, his voice firm. "If it doesn't feel right, then it's not worth pursuing."

You took the contract, your hand trembling slightly. "But the board…" your trailed off, unsure how to voice your concerns without overstepping your boundaries.

Bruce leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving hers. "The board's job is to make suggestions," he said. "My job is to make decisions. And if my… wife," he emphasized the word, "thinks something's off, then I trust her judgment."

You felt a warmth spread through your chest at his words. It was the first time he had ever called you his wife without it sounding like a mere formality. You held the contract, your mind racing. "Thank you," you murmured. "I'll handle it."

Bruce nodded, his gaze lingering on yours. "You're welcome."

You retreated from the study, your thoughts in a whirlwind. The weight of the contract in your hands felt heavier than ever before. As you walked, the echoes of their conversation seemed to follow you, whispering of a newfound partnership and trust. You paused outside your study, taking a moment to collect yourself before returning to work. The manor felt different, as if the very air had shifted to accommodate a burgeoning emotion you hadn't anticipated.

Over the next few weeks, Bruce's affection grew more pronounced. He would join you for dinner, engaging in conversations that delved beyond the superficial. They discussed books, art, and the future of Gotham, sharing smiles and laughter that felt genuine and unforced. You found yourself looking forward to these moments, the tension in the air charged with something you dared not name.

One evening, after the boys had retired to their rooms, Bruce found you in the dimly lit Batcave, your eyes reflecting the glow of the monitors as you reviewed the night's intel. He approached you slowly, his footsteps muffled by the rubber soles of his boots. "I thought I was the night owl around here," he said with a teasing smile.

You startled, spinning around in the chair. "Mr. Wayne," you gasped, hand flying to your chest. "I didn't hear you come in."

Bruce chuckled, the sound echoing through the cavernous space. "It's Bruce," he corrected gently. "And I can see you've got everything under control."

Your cheeks colored as you nodded. "Just keeping an eye on things," you said, your voice quieter than usual. You felt self-conscious under his scrutiny, unsure how to react to his sudden interest in your nightly routine.

"Mind if I join you?" Bruce asked, his tone casual, yet it held a hint of something more.

You hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Of course," you said, your voice steady despite the racing of your heart. You watched as he made his way over to you, his movements fluid and silent. He leaned against the console, his eyes on the screens, but you knew he was really watching you.

"You know, this isn't where I expected to find you on our anniversary," he said, his voice low and warm.

Your breath caught in your throat. You had almost forgotten about the date, lost in the whirlwind of their new dynamic. Your swiveled the chair to face him, your heart pounding in your chest. "Anniversary?" you echoed, trying to keep your voice even.

Bruce nodded, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Yes, it's been a year since we made this… arrangement." He paused, searching for the right word, and you felt the weight of the unspoken truth hanging in the air.

"I… I had no idea at how quickly the year went by," you murmured, your eyes flicking to the floor before meeting his gaze again. "So much has happened."

"Yes, it has," Bruce agreed, his expression softening. "But I think we've made it work, don't you?"

You nodded slowly, your eyes moving to the side of the floor. "We have," you conceded. "For the boys."

"For the boys," Bruce echoed, but there was a hint of something more in his voice. He reached out and took your hand, his touch sending a jolt through you. "Dance with me."

You looked at him, bewildered. The Batcave was the last place you'd would have ever imagined sharing a dance with your husband, especially considering their relationship had been more of a business transaction than a romantic union.

"What?" you asked, your voice a mix of surprise and doubt. The cold metal and concrete walls of the Batcave didn't exactly scream romance.

But Bruce didn't seem to notice the oddness of his request. He held out his other hand, his eyes earnest. "Just one dance."

Your heart racing, placing your hand in his, allowing him to pull you to your feet. He led you to the center of the Batcave, the place where so much strategy and planning took place. But now, it was just them, standing in the shadow of the Dark Knight's armor, the only music the hum of the computers and the distant echo of the city above.

He pulled you closer, his hand on your back while the other held your other hand. You could feel the warmth of his body against yours, a stark contrast to the cool air of the underground lair. He was close enough that you could make out the scent of his cologne, the faint metallic scent of his suit mingling with it.

He leaned down and whispered in your ear, "Let's pretend, just for a moment, that we're not Mr. Wayne and Mrs. Wayne, but a couple who met under different circumstances."

Your pulse quickened. You knew the rules of your arrangement, knew that love had never been a part of the deal. Yet here you were, in the most unlikely of settings, with the potential for something you had never allowed yourself to imagine. Hesitating for only a moment, you stepped into the embrace, your body fitting against his as if it had always belonged there.

He began to sway gently, guiding you in a slow, rhythmic dance that seemed to defy the gravity of their situation. His hand rested on the small of your back, his other hand holding hers firmly, yet gently. You felt the muscles beneath the fabric of his suit, the strength and power of the man you had only ever known as your husband in name.

The sound of his deep, rich hum filled the cavernous space, a tune you didn't recognize but found oddly soothing. It was a moment of vulnerability you had never seen from him before, a side of Bruce Wayne that was as unguarded as the batcave was protected. As they danced, your head leaned into his chest, the steady beat of his heart echoing in your ears, mimicking the tempo of your own.

The tension between them grew palpable, a silent crescendo that seemed to vibrate in every atom of the room. You felt yout resolve wavering, the walls you had meticulously built to maintain the façade of your marriage threatening to crumble. You knew the truth – that you had developed feelings for him, feelings that had grown from a seed of respect and duty into a full-blown bouquet of love and longing.

"Bruce," you murmured, your voice shaky. "What are we doing?"

He leaned down, his breath warm against your ear. "I'm just… trying to be a better husband to you."

The admission sent a tremor through you, and you pulled away slightly to look up at him. His eyes searched yours, a question and a plea melded into one. Your chest tightened as you read the hope and uncertainty in his gaze.

"Why?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. "What changed?"

Bruce's expression grew serious, his eyes holding yours captive. "I've realized that life is too short to ignore what's right in front of us," he replied, his thumb brushing gently against the back of your hand. "I've watched you care for my sons, for this city, and for me. You've become more than just a part of this arrangement. You've become a part…of me."

The words hung in the air, a confession that resonated through the very foundation of the Batcave. You searched his eyes, looking for any sign of doubt, any hint that he was just playing a part. But what you found was a vulnerability you had never seen before, a crack in the armor of the man who was both Bruce Wayne and Batman. You were speechless, your heart pounding so loudly you were sure he could hear it.

Leaning closer, his cheek brushed against yours, sending a shiver down your spine. His mouth hovered near your ear, the heat of his breath sending a rush of emotion through yours. "Please," he whispered, "give me a chance."

Your heart was a tumult of emotions – hope, fear, confusion. But you knew that you couldn't ignore the feelings that had been growing within you for so long. You nodded, the barest of movements, but it was enough.

Bruce's hand slid to your cheek, cupping it gently as he leaned in and kissed you. It was a soft kiss, filled with a year's worth of unspoken emotions. You melted into it, your arms slipping around his neck as you gave in to the warmth that had been building between them. The kiss grew deeper, more urgent, and you could feel the tension in his body, the years of holding back finally released.

You broke apart, breathing in quite pants, your eyes locked. Your heart raced, your mind reeling with the implications of what was happening. "Bruce," you whispered, your voice trembling.

"My wife," Bruce said, the words sounding unfamiliar, yet right. He searched your face, his thumb stroking your cheek gently. "You are my wife. I want to act like the husband I know you truly deserve."

"What about the boys?" You asked, your voice a soft murmur.

"They're our priority," Bruce assured you, his hand sliding from your cheek to your hand again. "We just now have… some extra perks to our partnership." He offered you a tentative smile, and you couldn't help but return it, feeling the weight of your situation lighten just a little.

For a moment, you two just stood there, holding onto each other, the reality of your feelings finally out in the open. The silence was comfortable, filled with the steady rhythm of your breaths mingling together.

[eightstarr]

i know — van palmer.

summary: you can't remember a life before van, but there was one. there must've been one. it feels ridiculous to think about. you'd rather think about her, rather think about this— two moments then, and two moments now (and so, so many to come).

notes: heyyy i know i said i would post this like a month ago, i fully forgot!! if there was like one person waiting i'm sorry and i love you sm <3 also this ignores the plot entirely and i wanna make that very clear just in case!! it's like a nothing happened and we're all okay au! anyway here's to my loser girl and to whoever also finds themselves staring at the wall in silence thinking about her :)

・。.・゜✧・. ────

THEN.

"You're hogging the blanket," Jackie mutters over a mouthful of popcorn, purple polished nails tugging at the soft fabric.

She's right— you are. "I'm not," you say, and bring your legs close to your chest partly so they can offer some kind of comfort, but mostly so they're not touching the unknown dangers of the floor anymore.

The TV flashes red and Jackie's living room is bathed in it, along with all your faces.

Shauna snorts at a man getting brutally and very unrealistically decapitated on the screen and pulls her own blanket closer to her best friend before she even has to ask. They do that a lot; talk without words. Any other time you would've noticed, thought that's cute and smiled to yourself, but right now you're too terrified.

The movie is bad. Or, that's what you have to keep reminding yourself of. It's lazy in a way that's bordering on comical and needlessly violent in a way that proves that it was written by a man with interesting fantasies. You shouldn't be scared, but you are.

Another death earns you a few minutes of quiet, though you know the build up to the next one will be worse. The characters cry and fret over the dead body of their friend but the killer is nowhere to be seen, disappearing conveniently into the night. You're granted a scene of daylight but the sun comes and goes, and then the screen turns to dark violets and blues again and you're tensing up in your seat.

It's fine, at first— the pretty blonde girl is yielding a kitchen knife and walking around while her muscled boyfriend boards up the windows of the big house. Lottie shifts where she's sitting on the floor next to Laura Lee's legs and whispers about why they would lock themselves in instead of taking their chances outside, which is 'obviously the smartest thing to do'. You don't have time to process what she's saying because suddenly an ax is clawing its way through one of the windows and the characters are screaming and, well, so are you.

"Fuck!" You curse, jumping and landing yourself halfway into Van's lap, the softness of her thighs under your own, your back against her chest.

Van blinks, more startled by your reaction than the scene itself, her hands coming up to steady you and then immediately dropping back down a second after they brush over the cotton of your shirt. She lets out a shaky breath and does not think about how good your weight feels on top of her, because that would be a bad thought, a questionable thought. And it should not have been the first one to pop into her mind. Definitely not. That would be embarrassing. That would be bad.

You cover your eyes with one hand as the sounds of screaming come to a crescendo and hold one of her hands tightly with the other, mumbling sorry, sorry, sorry as if you're doing something wrong. As if you don't know that, even if you were, Van is incapable of being mad at you. Famously so. Everybody knows.

She looks around the room to the rest of the girls. No one is staring, too busy chewing popcorn and wrinkling their noses at the more gruesome special effects. Van turns her head back to you. A million thoughts rush in, overwhelming and unforgiving. Something about the soft tint of chapstick on your lips, the curve of your nose, the shape of your fingers. Things she's noticed before -Van is often greedy of all your details-, but not in this way, never from this close. She can smell your shampoo from here. Somewhere in the back of her mind, over the scent of honey and strawberries, she wonders if she's going insane.

Your body noticeably relaxes as the violence dissipates, your grasp on her hand loosening slightly. When you uncover your eyes, the final girl is clawing her way through the woods. You're unsure of how she got out of the house, but too comforted by the thought of the movie finally coming to an end to care.

Van is scared to say anything, scared to move— if she does, you might push yourself off of her, ignore her for the rest of the night because you're embarrassed. The thought is ridiculous. You'd never ignore her, you're not that kind of person, but it's what she would do. Except she'd probably never be in this position in the first place, because she'd never be brave enough to throw herself on your lap, even if she was as scared as you were. And that's just it anyway, it's not like you chose to do this. You didn't pick her. You would've found the same comfort in anyone's arms. Right? Van feels you shift closer, just slightly, like you're unaware of it. Right?

Her forehead falls on your shoulder as she thinks herself sick.

"It's scary, right?" You whisper, confusing her crisis for fear. Your fingers wrap around her bicep, soft and absentminded when they brush up and down her skin, trying to make her feel better.

Van feels her stomach flip, her hands twitch. In another world, she would wrap her arms around your waist and press her lips to your ear, mumble something stupid like if you say so, baby just to annoy you. Here, though, all she does is nod her head. She whispers back, "Yeah, it is."

She looks up at the screen, tries to be scared, to be invested. You relax further into her, personal and comfortable as if there's no one in the room but the two of you. Van blinks. She can't give you the name of the girl on the screen. A minute passes and your back straightens suddenly, but you don't rush to slide off her lap. You do it carefully, not because you want to but because you're worried about making her uncomfortable. Van wants to pull you back but she's never faced anything as daunting. She comforts herself with the thought that one day she will, a hungry attempt at manifesting or breaking a mental wishbone or something. For now, she follows you with her eyes and feels her anxiety melt away when you notice her staring and give her a smile. The movie's not yet over. She looks back. Who's the bad guy again?

─────✧･ﾟ: *✧･

NOW.

Van likes to pretend that she's a better cook than she is. Someone else might find it funny, annoying even, but you can't find it anything but cute. You love telling her that you've run out of food and watch her scoff and puff up her chest.

"I'll make you something out of nothing," she'll say. Then she'll open the fridge and bend at the waist, stare at said nothing for a solid two minutes before resurfacing and declaring that she's craving pizza from the place down the street, anyway, so there's no point in cooking.

At the grocery store the next day, you make sure to buy the essentials for the one pasta recipe that she does actually know how to make. Van likes to feel useful. And you like to indulge her every need, maybe a little too much.

You pick the sweetest looking tomatoes for the sauce, no real expertise behind your method— you're not exactly an amazing chef, either, but the two of you do just fine. Someone calls your name in the middle of bagging the last tomato and you turn to meet a face you had almost forgotten about.

"Katie Lopez?" Van asks again, staring at the folded piece of paper with the almost-stranger's number that you'd gotten without asking (a friendly gesture, you're pretty sure) after a slightly lengthy conversation that carried on even after your multiple anyway, I should probably get going's.

You're telling Van about the encounter while washing the tomatoes in the sink, sleeves rolled up. Your cheeks are warm with kisses like they always are when you make it back to her, as if she wants to reward you for it. You've been hers for so long, and she's still amazed at the fact that you come home to her. "Yes," you repeat. "Why is that so shocking?"

"It's not," she says, flicking the paper where it sits on the counter, kinder than her original need to ball it up or light it on fire or something even more dramatic. She moves to open the cabinet and starts putting away the canned goods you've brought. "I just didn't know you guys were close."

"We're not. She was just being polite."

Van hums. For a moment you think she'll let it go, but of course she won't. She doesn't like the thought of someone flirting with you when she's not there and she especially doesn't like the thought of that someone being Katie fucking Lopez, who's most memorable for fingering girls in the bathroom for most of your shared high school experience.

Van clears her throat and the cabinet closes with a thud louder than she intended, definitely not because she was caught up picturing you under Katie's gaze. She means to sound casual, but she's not trying very hard when she asks, "She ever try to get with you?"

You spare her a single glance, as if to check that she's serious. Of course she is. "What, in high school?" You shake your head, chuckling like the idea is funny. "No. She was more into the cheerleader type."

Van knows that you're right. Still, she squints her eyes at you, ginger hair leaning to one side when she tilts her head. "Is that a hint of resentment that I'm hearing?"

You've gotten good at knowing how to handle her jealousy. It's only fair, considering that she's gotten good at handling yours. Neither are ever that serious. "I was making a neutral observation."

You know she's creeping closer before you feel it. You know her too well. "Yeah?" She mutters, her hands on your hips as she presses herself to your back. Her nose is familiarly cold where it brushes against your neck.

You dry your hands and lean back on instinct, and she doesn't flinch at the added feeling of your weight. Van can be a lot like a brick wall, but you don't usually tell her that, unless you're feeling extra sweet and want her to grin like a cocky little shit for the rest of the day. "You were into that type, too."

Van scoffs, a soft gust of air on your neck. "I was into you," she says.

You hum, purely fucking with her. "Maybe."

"May— what the fuck are you talking about?" She pulls away just enough to prove that she's actually offended. And she is, because the idea is ludicrous and yeah, she's taking it personally. You can question Van about anything you want, except for the fact that she's been in love with you for more than half of her life. "When did you ever see me looking at cheerleaders?" She asks.

You and Van work for a lot of reasons. You work because you're different where it matters, enough to balance each other out, and you work because you're the same in everything else. You might've been just teasing her at first, but now the thought does that stupid thing where it starts to linger and -just like she had thought about you and Katie- you can almost picture it in your head, a younger Van standing on the soccer field, her eyes trailing over a girl's short uniform skirt. You roll your eyes, annoyed mostly at yourself. "Oh, don't act like you wouldn't have loved for them to shout your stupid name."

Van chuckles. She can read your train of thought like a book. She knows you too well. "Stupid name, huh? You're cute when you're jealous." And a little mean, too, but in a way that makes her weak in the knees. She won't be telling you that part. You already know, anyway.

You pull the hands that are wrapped around your waist away from you. Van lets you— she wants to see where this is going. "Not jealous," you mutter.

"No?" She teases, half-heartedly disappointed when you don't turn around to let her kiss you.

You look at her over your shoulder and then make eye contact with the piece of paper on the counter, recalling the words of your old classmate. Call me whenever. We should totally hang out. You're too old to be telling people you should 'totally hang out', but Katie Lopez hasn't changed much from the last time you saw her. You hold back the urge to wrinkle your nose at the memory of that same teenager-trying-to-be-cool smirk that she gave you throughout the whole interaction and hum thoughtfully, like you've been tempted. "Maybe I will call her—" you take one step towards the counter in a half assed attempt to reach for the paper but Van is unusually quick as she strides forward and takes it in her hands, tongue poking into the inside of her cheek as she rips it in two. "Van!" You gasp.

"What? Don't tell me you were actually gonna use it," she pouts. "You're breaking my heart, baby."

You try to take the two pieces away from her and all you earn is her breaking it in four, holding it above your head. You're laughing as you slap her shoulder. "God, you're so stupid."

Van raises her eyebrows, mismatched numbers wrinkled in her hand. She drops them on the counter in favor of cupping your face, pressing a contained short peck to your lips. Don't feel bad, she won't hold back for long. "Stupid like my name?"

"I love your name," you shake your head, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "I love it. Just as long as it's mine to say."

It is yours, but you know that already.

─────✧･ﾟ: *✧･

THEN.

Van's room smells like the incense you got her. You wonder if she used it just to appease you because she knew you were coming, but it's a silly thought. Van likes you. You know this now. She takes everything you give her (your time, your smiles, your kisses) like it's a precious gift, so you can't imagine that she would neglect an actual gift.

Your grandmother said you should light the incense before a game, to bring you good luck and calm your nerves, and you're not ashamed to admit that you bought Van her own pack the very next day. Everything makes you think about her lately, especially this kind of thing. You're not even sure that the incense works, but why wouldn't you share it with her? She deserves all of it— good luck, a stomach free of nerves, at the very least a nice lingering scent if your grandma's beliefs turn out to be a myth. But you hope they don't.

Your girlfriend is anxious more often than you are, but never really about a game. Van knows that she's good at soccer. She's nervous about other things. Keeping her side of the house clean, being able to afford Sinéad O'Connor tickets, what her mom's mood will be like tomorrow, English assignments but only because she thinks the professor is the coolest guy alive and she wants to impress him even if she won't admit it. And lately, there's another thing. She worries about whether you'll look at her one day and realize that you're too good for her.

You know about some of her anxieties, but clearly not all of them. She can picture your reaction if she were to share the last one with you, how your face would scrunch up and you'd look at her with eyes so loving and so sad. She can almost hear you ask, soft and patient, why would you think that? And she wouldn't know what to say. There's comfort in the fact that the worry is there, but it's not constant. Van only worries about that when you're gone. When you're in front of her, or sitting next to her in class, or talking to her on the phone, it's hard to imagine that you'll ever stop liking her. She takes in your smile, your laughter, your sparkling eyes and she can't think about anything else. You make all of it go away. If you asked her, she would tell you that she thinks the incense works, but only because it came from you.

She can smell it faintly from where she is now, but there are a hundred other things overwhelming her more— the feeling of your legs on either side of her, the sound of your bracelets clinking together when you move your arms to rest them next to her head and cage her in, the sight of you leaning in to kiss her. It's easy to say, she's only been dating you for three months, but Van is sure that she will never get tired of this.

She hums against your lips, something too close to a moan. Her cheeks are red when you pull away, and you're not sure if it was the sound she made or the regretful, kind of embarrassing thing she has to tell you that gave her that reaction. "My mom will be home in, like, five minutes," she says, raspy and breathy.

Her voice distracts you. Your lips are tingling. "Okay," you say, nodding your head even though it takes you another three seconds to actually process what she said.

This is where you sit up, break apart. Neither of you move.

You smile and lean back down to kiss her again, stomach fluttering from the sound of her giggling as you tilt your head back. How are you supposed to stop when she's so fucking— so cute, so handsome, so in love with you. You've never felt so secure of another person's feelings for you before, but it's impossible to doubt Van. She makes you confident, makes sure that you know at all times. Might as well be saying I love you, I love you, I love you between each kiss that she pulls you back into.

It takes everything in you to break away from her, but you have to. "Fuck, okay. I gotta go," you mutter. You have to. You'll see her tomorrow. It should be embarrassing how greedy she makes you.

She watches as you sit up on her lap, your skirt bunched up over the crotch of her jeans. You must notice her looking, because you're laughing like you can read her mind when she huffs and covers her face with her arms, her lips pursed as she suppresses an even more embarrassing sound than the one she made before.

"I'll see you tomorrow," you insist, like saying it outloud will make leaving easier. You stand up and brush your hands over your hair, flattening the flyaways. Then you grab your backpack from the floor (don't think about the pretty pin she got you a few days ago, because it'll make you want to kiss her again) and walk over to her window.

You could take your chances with the front door, but you don't want to. Van was afraid that her neighbors would see you and innocently mention it to her mom, say something like oh, I saw that Vanessa's friend came by the other day. Van wishes it could be left at that, but her mom is rarely that simple. She looked so worried as she told you about it, so ashamed. You kissed her cheek and promised yourself you'd get good at climbing.

She comes closer as you climb to the other side, getting your footing on the familiar edge of the wall, and she hisses when you let go of the window railing to reach over and cup her face. You don't have to pull for her to bend down and let you kiss her, your thumbs brushing over her cheeks.

"Please don't fall," she's saying as you make your way down.

You look up at her and smile, and Van thinks you're so pretty that she misses the mischievousness behind it. "Have a little faith in me— oh, fuck!"

Van flinches, bumping her head on the window with how quick she moves to look down at you. The sound of your laughter makes her realize your hands never left their safe grip. Her shoulders relax. "Oh my God, fuck you," she scoffs, though she's too relieved for it to have any real bite.

"What were you even gonna do?" You ask, still giggling.

She shrugs, eyebrows furrowed. "I don't know, fucking— grab you or something."

"Your arms are too short to reach me from up there."

"I take offense to that."

"Well, I'm sorry," you sigh, tilting your head. "Doesn't make it any less true."

"I better not hear you asking for my short arms to carry you after practice tomorrow," Van huffs, said arms now crossed over her chest.

You look up at her in disbelief, raising your eyebrows. "I have literally never asked you for that, you always offer."

She shifts slightly where she stands, moves her weight from one leg to the other, caught. "Because I can do it," she mutters.

"Yes, I know. You're very strong, baby."

Van rolls her eyes, choosing to believe that you're teasing her because if she believes that you're being genuine she might die.

Your feet hit the ground with a thud. You do a silly curtsy, as if to say ta-da! and Van thinks you're so cute she's certain that she'll die. You give her one last grin and blow her a kiss before sneaking away from her house into the night.

Van goes to bed with her cheeks aching from smiling, her bed smelling of your perfume, and the faint sound of her brain screaming (terrified, celebrating) you are fucked!

─────✧･ﾟ: *✧･

NOW.

"I wish I'd asked you to prom," your voice is muffled by her sweatshirt, lips partly pressed against her shoulder.

Van snorts, looking down at you. "What?"

"You never went," you explain, and you have that look on your face, like you've been thinking about this for weeks. Like you could cry. Van presses pause on the (admittedly) shitty action film she'd chosen and lets you try to get your thoughts out. "I really wanted you there. You would've liked it."

She lets out a sigh through her nose, a hand coming to rest against your cheek. "I really don't know if that's true, honey," she says honestly.

You straighten your back a little, a tiny frown on your face like you get when you've been challenged. "You would've liked it. You love to dance and the DJ was, like, surprisingly good. And Ms. Dawson actually said yes to a dance with Peter K., even though that was highly inappropriate now that I think about it. But it was funny at the time— and Natalie snuck in a bottle of vodka."

"Yeah?" She asks, awfully endeared even when she's heard the story a million times before. You'd told her all about it the day after prom, your voice groggy and sleepy over the phone. She had felt lame about having missed it, but a thousand times better as soon as she picked up the phone, giggling in her bed like a fool at every detail you gave her.

You wrap your fingers around the hand on your cheek, press a kiss against her palm. "You would've loved it," you say, sounding somehow more convinced than before. "I should've asked you."

"It's okay."

"No, it's not. I was a dick," you insist. "I was a coward—"

"Hey, no. No," Van sits up from her lazy posture, two thin wrinkles between her eyebrows when she frowns. They look good on her. You remember when they weren't there, and it always makes you a little emotional. "Don't say that. You weren't."

"But I was," you try to reason, stubborn to a fault. "I'm not, like, condemning myself. I'm stating a fact."

Her frown deepens. "Well, I don't like it. And I don't think it's a fact."

You didn't mean for this to turn into an argument, but you're not exactly thinking about that at the moment. It happens— you've let the thought saturate in your brain for too long and now you're stuck thinking that you're right. "Why are you arguing with me right now?" You ask, not being petty but genuinely wanting to know.

Van huffs a frustrated breath. "Because I thought about asking you to prom for years, okay?" She says, crawling with embarrassment. "I told myself I would over and over again and then I fucking didn't. If you were a coward, what does that make me?"

You pause, guilt swirling in your stomach because you realize all at once that you've been poking on a tender bruise you didn't even know existed. "Van," you say softly, "I'm sorry. I didn't know."

She sighs, almost a chuckle. She can be so mean to herself, so condescending about her own feelings. You know she's not laughing at you, or disregarding you in any way— it's just what she does when she feels like she's humiliated herself. Especially when you're there to watch, looking at her so kindly when she's certain she deserves none of it. "Yeah, well. That was intentional," she mutters.

You let her look away from you for a moment before you push yourself onto your knees, placing one on each side of her hips. She welcomes you like she always does when you come to sit on her lap now, her hands on your waist and her face falling forward to press kisses over your collarbone. A thoughtless motion, automatic.

"Sweet girl," you hum, guiding her head up with a careful hand, smiling when you meet her eyes. "We should've gone out dancing alone. Would've been way more fun."

Van breathes out a laugh. She wonders if she'll cry, and feels like she could. "Yeah," she agrees.

"I would've said yes, you know. I'm not blaming you for not asking me, I get why you didn't. I really do. But it's important to me that you know that." You brush a strand of hair behind her ear. It's pretty, and getting long. In no time she'll be asking you to wash it over the sink and trim it with your fancy hair scissors, like you've been doing since you got back together when you were twenty five after a stupid argument that led to a two years long break. It wasn't a good time for either of you, but you don't regret it. You have the rest of your life to live with her. Still, there will always be things like this— arguments about deep buried shame, fears that might never go away, moments you missed that other high school sweethearts didn't because their worries weren't like yours. It's sad, but not inescapable all the time. You and Van don't blame each other for any of it. But sometimes you need to be reminded of that.

"I know," she nods, her voice in that soft, quiet tone that you love but rarely get with how passionate she is. It's not a hardship, you love that just as much. "I think maybe that's why— why I was so freaked out. Like, if you said yes, it would become real."

You nod and chuckle a little, sweet and airy. "And you'd have to actually start to date me? Yeah, I would be scared," you joke.

Van buries her face in your chest with a groan. "That's all I fucking wanted," she says, feeling too honest to play along like she usually would.

You let her stay there for a while, her nose brushing against the rise and fall of your chest. Wanna be here forever, she'd told you once, with cold fingers sneaking under your shirt, more than a little drunk. You have been making fun of her about it for ages, but it tugs at something different today. It makes you pull her softly with a hand on the back of her neck, just enough to press your lips against hers, not wanting to deny her any of your warmth that she might crave.

Van hums against your lips, moving where you want her when your hands guide her own from your waist down to your hips. You press your chest against hers like you know she likes and she moans into your mouth, a hand moving to press against your back and force you closer.

"I'm sorry I didn't ask you," you mumble when she lets you pull apart, speaking close to her ear as you kiss her cheek, lips soft over old acne scars and sunspots.

Van shakes her head. "I don't care," she promises, smiling like she does when she's about to say something corny. "Look at me now," she shrugs, fake humble. "I got the girl in the end."

You laugh against her smirk and kiss her until she's lifting your hips and pushing you down on the couch, your back against the worn pillows, a hand on the back of your head in case you bump it on the arm rest. You like when she moves you around just to show off, reminds you of when you were younger and she'd flex her muscles just because she knew you were looking. She might not be the same type of strong now, but she can still pull out some tricks when she wants to. And with you, Van often wants to.

She tilts her head back when you try to pull her in for another kiss, sighing as she gets comfortable on top of you. She almost gives up the act when you pout at her, blinking your pretty eyes, but instead she leans her weight on one hand next to your head and says, "That is, of course, if she doesn't leave me for Katie Lopez's magic fingers."

Van expects you to roll your eyes, slap her shoulder so she can say ouch! and dramatically rest her hand over the wounded spot. Instead, you slide your hand over hers where it's resting against your hip, intertwining your fingers together and smiling pretty, tilting your head. "Mmh, but I have the best fingers right here."

Van scoffs, playing amused rather than speechless because she's trying not to show you how much your words get to her. It's embarrassing how proud it makes her, how quickly she melts into the palm of your hand when you as much as imply that she's good at something, that you would pick her over everyone else, that you want her like she wants you. Praise from others makes her smile and say thank you, but praise from you reaches her core, makes her dizzy. Her lips feel dry and her tongue pokes out absentmindedly to lick them as you guide her hand up. Van barely registers the movement, too busy watching your face— how beautiful that she gets to see it all the time now, that she knows all the details like you know hers.

Her fingertips come to rest against your lips and her breath stutters as she tries desperately to maintain any sense of coolness or dignity or fucking something while you kiss each one, soft and attentive. She's thinking, is she insane for finding it as thrilling as she does, even after all these years? Do you know what you do to her? You can't possibly know, Van almost decides, but then you part your lips to slide two of her fingers into your mouth and she thinks that you do. You definitely know.

"F—fuck," she breathes out, and tries to remember her original plan to tease you but can't recall your old classmate's name. "You trying to butter me up?" She asks, her chuckle trembling but deep, from the back of her throat.

Her fingers slip from your mouth with a soft pop, and Van groans. You hum, "Is it working?"

You're mean, evil. You're the sweetest thing she's ever seen. Two things can be true at once. You're a dream, and you're not like this for anyone else. The thought echoes through her skull, warm and infectious. Van smirks. "Yeah."

[extra-n1]

Imagine mha ended with Kacchan and Izuku taking a walk together and casually passing all the places we saw them together at when they were kids until they reach the park. "Look Kacchan! That's the forest where we used to play heroes!" He said with a smile, although it was tinted with nostalgia and something a bit bitter. "Wanna go over?" The blond asks and the next second their already there. They walk for a bit in silence until they reach a specific point. A fallen tree that crosses a very small river. With time, its flow has decreased but it's still running. Katsuki invites Izuku to sit on the trunk as they watch the stream of water flow under their feet.

5 minutes later, none of them has said anything, it's comfortable silence tho. The sunrays get stronger and Izuku comments on it. With an idea, Katsuki jumps off the trunk directly into the river and lays there. "Kacchan, what are you doing?" The freckled boy asks confused "Just refreshing myself" Izuku giggles and lays next to the blond. The stream not big enough to cover them so their faces are kept over the water as they stare at a few small clouds pass the clear sky. As the minutes pass, Katsuki can sense the air becoming tense, and then it comes.

"Kacchan, can I say something?" Izuku asks unsure. He knows he doesn't need permission to speak to Katsuki but- "What I'm gonna say may- no, will absolutely sound selfish, but I can't help it. I-I've loved whatever we had since we entered UA, specially those last months, that's why I can't help but feeling like I'm being unfair to you. You've been so sincere lately, so caring, and all I do is deny and ignore things. I really didn't want to say because it makes me feel like a scumbag but I feel like I may drown every second I'm with you and I don't say it."

"Hey-" Katsuki tried to interfere at the 'scumbag' thing but was interrupted by a hand clutching the side of his shirt. Then Izuku was half hugging him on the water and he was paralyzed.

"I want you to be a hero. I want to see you become great even if I can't. It's a path I wanted to walk besides you but, I've already had time to reflect and I'm okay with cheering you on from the sidelines. It's just-" Izuku's sobs felts like needles on Katsuki's weak heart, his own tears pricking at the edges of his eyes. "It's just that I don't want you to forget about me, about this, about what we had in UA. You're gonna keep growing and progressing and I'm just gonna stay here. It'll be better for you to move on, but I don't want you to leave" The last sentence was merely a whisper. Izuku could barely talk through the sobs "I know it's a selfish wish-"

Izuku stopped talking when he felt Katsuki's hand over his, removing it from his shirt. His heart was shaking and shattering. 'Oh, no. This is when Kacchan gets up to leave and never speaks to me again. I shouldn't have done it. Even if he's been caring about me for some time what are the chances he actually loves-'

"Izuku" The boy wakes up from his mental ramble and finds Katsuki's gentle eyes, then he smirks, but there's no malice behind it "Since you're so selfish asking me not to leave, it's only fair I make a wish too" Izuku is beyond confused, Kacchan is not mad? They're both sitting up, the gentle breeze making their soaked backs cold. Either of them noticed, either of them cared. Izuku did take notice tho that the hand previously removed from Katsuki's clothing was now clasped between the blond's own hands. Pink rose up to freckled cheeks and the boy looked away as Katsuki caressed his fingers, a one-in-a-million soft smile on his face as he did so.

"Izuku" He repeated. The deep tone of his voice making said boy's cheeks burn, but he was unable to look away now "Y-yeah?" They made eye contact "It may make no sense to you, but I want you to keep being selfish over me for the rest of our lives" The blond intertwined their fingers and Izuku's heart trembled. "I don't want you to cheer from 'the sidelines'. We've walked the path here next to eachother and that's where I want- I need you to be. As a hero parter... or just a partner..."

They fell into silence. Only the steady moves of the water and the sounds of birds to remind them they're still on Earth. Katsuki was the one to advert his eyes this time, embarrassed, looking down onto the calm waters. Izuku was unable to look away, not from that vulnerable face, the almost unnoticeable blush, the words he just said still ringing in his ears. 10 seconds later, Izuku's brain came to a realization.

"Ka-Kacchan, are you suggesting that...?" The fiery blond broke into a mess of excuses "I mean! Only if you want to! I'm also fine with staying friends! Well, no... but I'll deal with it! I wouldn't dump you! So, make sure you're totally on with this before you say anything because I absolutely am!" "Kacchan" Izuku's voice came out so weak and soft. Katsuki looked everywhere else before finally setting aside his cowardy and meeting Izuku's eyes again. "You want to...date me?" The shorter male asked, still incredulous "Yeah" Katsuki looked down at their still linked hands "I mean, yes." And then up again and firmly said "Yes" Izuku, who was crying again, rewarded him with a sincere smile, for the first time in a long time, not a sad one, a real one filled with joy and relief. Katsuki only got to see it for a few seconds before the other launched himself at him and trapped him in a bear hug. He did his best to reciprocate with just one arm.

"Thank you. Thank you, Kacchan"

[mattsgirlie]

never existed part 2- chris sturniolo x fem! reader

warnings: mentions of cheating, soft dom!chris, angst, mentions of drinking and smut.

word count: 3000 (sorry)

My relationship with Matt was honestly far better than it was two months ago, after i completely ended things with Chris, Matt and I became official and got a chance to get it right.

That didn't stop Chris from staring at us across the room with a pathetic entitled attitude like he knew something we didn't every time he was around, which was barely since he was jumping from party to party every night.

Matt didn't quite understood why his brother became so constantly bitter and mad towards everyone, especially the two of us but thought he was just going through a phase.

Nick even shared his theory about Chris being in love with someone and i laughed, "As if he was capable of that" was my answer.

Matt is out tonight and i just chose to stay home with Nick watching movies. Nick is my best friend since middle school and hiding from him what happened between me and Chris made me almost lose it.

"I know it was before you and Matt became official but it doesn't make it less fucked up girl. I love you and i'm sorry but i can't back you up on this one, you gotta tell Matt"

Nick said from the other side of the couch and i nodded in agreement knowing he was fully right.

"I know but i was- Well i am so scared, me and Matt are finally working out....but yeah i have to tell him, i can't base our relationship on a lie"

"What about Chris?"

"What do you mean?" I asked confused.

"Do you feel something for him or was it just casual?" He asked trying to understand the full picture and i sigh heavily.

"I can't say i haven't thought about it but Chris was always more of a friend with benefits type of thing, he is not the guy to catch feelings i guess"

"I don't know about that...i always saw the way he looked at you and talked about you, and now that you told me this it kinda makes sense with this attitude problems" Nick said frankly, concerned about his younger brother.

"Nah, he probably is just mad he lost a fuck buddy that's all..." I try my best to brush it off but his words actually got me thinking

He simply agreed and we switched topics as he noticed i was uncomfortable, plus we had a lot of catching up to do. We decided to put on classic disney movies and stay up all night like old times.

Already 2 movies in my phone rings with the name "Christopher" bright on the screen and it took me a minute thinking if i should even read it after almost three months without us having a proper conversation.

Christopher: my room rn

Christopher: its urgent

Christopher: i wouldnt text you if it wasnt and yk it

My hands are shaking at this point as i almost immediately stand up, i know he is right he would never text me if it wasn't important.

"Be right back, bathroom" I mumbled in a hurry, not even waiting for Nick to say anything back as i make my way up to Chris' room.

I knock two times and get no answer back, i stand there in silence for a while until i hear him mumbling a "Come in".

I walk in to see Chris on the floor with his back leaning on the foot of the bed, the lights were all off except for the LED in purple.

Chris had some empty bottles badly hidden under the bed and he looked half drunk, his phone was tossed on the carpet with our chat opened.

He looked deadened, his expression was dull as i ran to him "Chris what the fuck happened??"

"You happened" was what he answered almost immediately whilst i stood there astonished "What is that even supposed to mean?"

He looked up at me and i swallowed a lump of air, he didn't even say a word.

"You called me here, what did you want?" i insisted as i sat next to him still apprehensive and confused

"I wanted to tell you something but first i gotta ask you a question, after that you can go back to pretending i never existed or whatever"

His voice was raspy and bitter, not like usually because this time i could tell he was truly hurt "You know it's not that simple, Chris"

I say feeling the guilt wash me over "Yeah, your relationship is great you don't need me anymore, i see it pretty simply actually" He adjusted his posture still sounding mad.

"Ask your question, Christopher" I look him in the eyes getting equally angry trying to find a way out of that topic.

"Why'd you chose him?"

I was stunned for a second but answered the first thing that came to mind "You never said choosing you was an option"

Chris looks at me in genuine surprise like he didn't expect that to be my answer, carefully thinking about his next words.

"So would you? If you thought it was an option?" He asked low, almost shyly which surprised me to say the least as i grew just as angry as him with his question about an impossible case scenario.

"Don't put me in this position Chris you know it's fucking complicated. I'm with Matt now and we are finally making it work and i don't wanna-"

"He doesn't deserve you" he cuts me mid sentence growing angrier and impatient.

"What do you know about deserving? You always treated me like i was your fuck toy and when i get the chance to be happy for once you come back with this"

"You were my fuck toy? Are you actually being serious right now? If anything you would only text me when you wanted to fuck away all the shit he put you through, not the other way around"

At this point Nick could probably hear us shouting but that wasn't our main concern as i felt my face go red considering his words.

"When i first came into this room i was looking for a friend that i really saw in you, one thing lead to another and i'm so sorry it happend that way but now i am truly happy why can't you just fucking accept that??!"

"It's not a matter of accepting is just that-"

"What Chris? Just say it already!"

"He is cheating on you" He half shouted again looking down to his lap and to me as he kept going "He has been for a long time now and he probably is as we speak"

I had no words. When i used to go to Chris for a casual thing i knew with Matt i wasn't the only one either just the main, although we fought a lot and had disagreements he seemed genuine when he asked me to be his real girlfriend two months ago and promised everything would be different.

"Does he know about me and you?" I said in an indescribable tone and Chris looked up again checking for any signs of reaction "I don't think so"

"And i felt fucking guilty for not telling him while he had a side bitch all along" I laughed in disbelief.

I went under his bed getting a full bottle and opening it without warning "What the fuck are you doing??"

"How long did you know about that?" I ask back, drinking straight from the bottle as he looked at me with concern then grabbed his phone going through his camere roll.

"Since last night for sure but i've been suspecting for a while. We went out together and he started making out with this girl that said she was his 'close friend' out of nowhere, i even had to uber home"

He shows me a photo where she is sitting on his lap in some photobooth at a random party.

"He thought i was too drunk to notice but they seem to go a long way, i figured you should know" He sounds calmer now, even subtly sweet "Hey go easy with that" He warns about the drink.

"Stop acting like you care" I chuckle ironically whilst standing up and he follows me "If i didn't care about you i wouldn't even have told you about this, have you thought about that?"

"If i didn't care about you i wouldn't have fought with my own brother for being a shitty boyfriend to you today" He walked towards me and i felt my limbs go numb.

"I wouldn't have you in my room when you guys would fight although i was only hurting my own feelings in return because i loved you so damn much since then"

Our faces are now inches apart, his eyes are pitch black and i couldn't breathe for a second "Did you just say you loved me?"

He goes silent again, he breaths heavily starting to walk away and i follow.

"Don't turn your fucking back on me Christopher i asked you a question, did you mean it?"

"Yeah i did but does it change shit?" He turns back around and i see his eyes getting teary "I love you and it's fucking hard cause i never loved anyone before and you don't love me back how am i supposed to feel?"

This is the most serious he has ever sound in his life and it hurts me to see how genuine his feelings are.

"But you always acted like it was no big deal when we were together. Chris, we barely even talked once we started to mess things up" I realized my bad wording once i saw him trying to hide his tears starring down the carpet.

"So that's all i was to you? Just a fucking slip huh?" his voice cracked and he turned back in a deep breath.

"Chris...listen to me" I get closer, facing him as i place my hands on his shoulder.

"Theres too much going on right now but i need you to understand that you meant- ...you mean a lot to me, you were always there for me since middle school and i always loved and admired you"

We are both tearing at this point and i see his expression softening.

"You were never just a slip, you're one of my favorite persons and i don't know what i would've done if Matt didn't introduce me to you and Nick back then and God i just-" He wipes my tears away delicately.

"You're not gonna pull the 'i wish i met you earlier' shit are you?" He jokes and i sigh in relief since this is the nicest we have been to each other in a long time.

"Im not the girl for this and you know it" i joke back and he smiles slightly "I just wish this whole thing wasn't so fucked up"

"Tell me about it, has been the main thing in my mind since the last time you were here" Chris looks at the bed then at me as if he was reminiscing.

"I missed you a lot when i left but it really thought it was for the best....if i knew this was how it would end i-"

"You would stay?" He asked seriously.

I take a minute to consider my answer, my brain still trying to sink in all the information.

"Yes....i would've stayed" We are now dangerously close, my hands around his shoulders and his are cupping my cheeks as our noses almost brush and i can feel his breath.

"So stay now" He holds me closer by my waist and i gasp at his sudden move "Be mine now, please"

And with that our faces gravitate towards each other's like it was meant to be, noses brushing and lips connected passionately.

Right here it feels so right for both of our dizzy broken hearts as we finally found the comfort we both so seeked for in others.

We sloppy moved towards the bed never breaking the kiss and soon i was on top of him while grabbing his hair.

"Do you want me to be all yours?" I asked straddling him as my hands moved to cup his cheeks.

"Thats all i need, please i want all of you" He pleaded holding my hips and i was surprised to see the change in his demeanor but that didn't mean i was fully enjoying it.

We kiss again this time more eagerly whilst our clothed hips rock against each other seeking friction "You have me, baby"

And with that Chris possessivly groans, he then trailed kisses down my neck and collarbone "I never got a chance to mark you up, now i can show everyone that you're mine, no one elses"

He explained while marking that one sweet spot which causes me to moan. My hands find their way under his shirt, my fingernails now scratching his back just as territorial as Chris and he chuckles.

"We're re such a lost cause" he mumbles as he moves to take off both our shirts.

"We so are" i chuckle getting up to remove the sweatpants i had on and he smiles.

"What? theres nothing here you haven't seen before" i joke taunting he just grabs my hips pulling me towards him.

"Its 'cause i know i will be the only one seeing this from now on"

He looks up at me as im still standing, pressing a gentle kiss on my lower stomach going down my thighs causing me to chuckle.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Chris affirmed almost immediately as his hands trailed up to remove my panties, kissing and worshiping my whole body as he did so.

It was different then any other time we had sex. It was intimate, not just two bodies but actual feelings involved still just as eager.

"What d'you want me to do princess? want me to kiss you here huh?" he kissed my inner thigh and my hands move to grab his hair as i whimpered.

"Want me to eat you out? make you cum in my tongue over and over again?" And he started doing so causing me to gasp.

"Yes... Chris! doing so good for me hm" He looks up at me lustfully flicking his tongue.

"So fucking wet for me...you have no idea how much i missed this." He groans between my legs and i whine.

"I-mhpm...I do! I missed this too fuck i missed the way you make me feel" I confess and he stops his movements suddenly getting up to kiss me again.

"Now you have me, baby and i'm not about to let you go ever again" He moves us over to the bed again, this time removing his sweatpants and underwear.

Stroking himself a feel times he hums over me "Ready?" He asked positioning between my legs.

"Wait! can you grab your phone for me baby?" I ask and he frowns confused but does it anyway handing it to me unlocked.

"Im ready now love" I smile devilishly and he does the same as he starts to push his dick inside me in deep slow thrusts, the room filled up with our moans as i sloppy try to find a specific number on his phone.

"Fuck....Chris! Right there, oh my god! Faster please please" I plea as i feel he hit the right spot clenching around him i feel him throb.

"Baby i wont last longer if you keep saying my n-name and tightening around me like that" He tilts his head back but quickly looks back at me when he hears his phone ringing.

"Don't worry about it, just lay on your back, can you do that for me?" I say before he can even think of an answer and we switch positions, me being now on top of him, sinking down my hips.

"Im going to ride you and all you have to do is be as loud as you can okay?" I start bouncing up and down and he just nods with his eyes shut feeling the pleasure.

"Matt! Finally...mhp W-where are you baby?" I say with difficulty due to my moves and I see Chris confused whisper shouts a 'what are you doing?!' and i put it on speaker.

"Im...out with friends like i told you, wait why are you calling from Chris's phone?" He asked confused and i just roll my eyes passing the phone to Chris, winking

"Hm...hey bro s-she fuck! she is busy right now but i can answer that one" He moans getting the message as i go faster and faster.

"What the fuck are you two doing? Give her the phone i wanna talk to my girlfriend" Matt says impatiently on the other side understanding what is going on

Chris presses a finger on my clit rubbing it which makes me shout his name "Your ex girlfriend is getting the treatment she deserves Matthew can you believe it? I'm so deep inside her right now she's never going back to you again, tell him baby"

He's enjoying it just as much as i am, gladly being louder as i feel my orgasm approach taking the phone back "Im s-so sorry for your side bitch...she will never get to cum like im about to right now" i hear him yelling that he's coming back home and with that i hang up.

Chris is half sitting to get support to thrust up now meeting my motions, he gives special attention to my boobs making me squeeze him inside me and our orgasms hit almost at the same time

His mouth hovered over my neck going to my earlobe were we bites and whispers.

"Such exhibitionists aren't we?"

We laughed, i lie on top of him whilst he brushed his fingers over my hair. After a while he carries me to his bathroom and clean us up.

Once we are back at his bed he hands me one of his favorite shirts and holds me tight, his arm pulling me closer.

"That's the first time im actually staying in" I comment smiling at our fingers intertwined.

"Get used to it 'cause you're never leaving"

[ghostlyeris]

cemetery drive

read on ao3

Mordred Manor is intimidating. 

With its sprawling graveyard and spiking tower, it seems like a house designed to harm. All sharp angles and cut corners, with little thought given to what it would be like to actually live in such a strange sanctuary.  None of the dimensions seem quite right; he’s never been inside but Oisín is almost certain that the internal dimensions don’t fit the external layout. 

He’s been standing outside for five minutes. It’s a toss-up whether it really takes that long to find anyone in the maze of a manor, or if Adaine is just making him sweat. Either one is fine. 

It’s not as if he doesn’t deserve it. 

His tail twitches with restraint as he holds it back from broadcasting his baser instincts. The last thing he wanted was for Jawbone to see how stressed he was. He would probably do something awful like ask if Oisín wants to talk about it. His fins ruffle at the very thought. He barely wants to be here. He certainly doesn’t want to talk about it. 

It’s been a long five minutes. 

Finally, the door swings open. Oisín snaps to attention as soon as he hears the doorknob squeak, working himself up to actually apologize before his cowardice gets the best of him. 

He’s ready. He has to be. He’s spent weeks staring into the cracked mirror above his dresser, reciting the apology over and over again until he could do it with his eyes closed. He’s practiced with Ivy, the only person still willing to spend real time with him until she too got sick of his shit and told him to just go do it. He’s whispered the words under his breath on the drive over, grabbing every last second until he was standing at the door asking if Adaine was home. 

None of it matters. Not in the face of her. 

Adaine stands in the doorway, leaning against the frame to hold her weight as she crosses her arms and stares him down. Even in her house clothes, soft sweatpants and cozy cardigan, she seems sharp. Oisín instinctively takes a step back; it’s only right that there be space between them. He can’t be too close to her. He doesn’t know what he would do, if only given the chance. 

It takes a few moments, just long enough for it to be awkward, before he realizes that she’s waiting for him to speak first. 

“I-Uh, I came to apologize,” he stammers out before slamming his mouth shut. So much for his script. The words vanish into vapor as he tries to grasp them, tries to gain any semblance of control over the situation he’s put himself into. 

A beautifully blonde eyebrow raises as the silence stretches on. “Well?”

“I'm sorry.” He has to force the sentence out through the thick layers of shame that settle on his shoulders every time he thinks about what he’s done. “Not just about the whole—you know—but for the party too. Especially the party.” 

He didn’t need to flirt with her. Kipperlilly had said it was a stupid plan from the start; more likely to get his heart broken than help them change the world. Even from the grave, she can’t help but be right. 

“Which one?”

Which one? “Either. Both. I shouldn't have played with your feelings like that.”

“You shouldn't have done a lot of things,” she spits out. It hits like acid, corroding through any emotional shield he may have crafted to scald his very soul. 

“Yeah, I know.” She’s still just standing there, staring him down from the stoop. He has to say something, anything, to fill the silence. So of course he chooses the worst option possible. “I don't know if it makes it better, but I did like you.”  

She goes still. “Did you?”

“I did.” The next line is a little softer. Barely more than a whisper. “I do.”

“Do you think it makes it better?” She asks. Her tone had gone flat. So even that he can’t detect anything through it. 

“...No?”

“Unbelievable.”

She scoffs, finally breaking eye contact to move back into the house. He panics as she turns to go, an overwhelming fear filling him at the thought of her leaving. It’s something primal, an emotion he can’t begin to describe but needs to sate before it consumes him.

He can’t let himself be consumed again. Never again. Even if it means humiliating himself. 

“You're just-you're so cool!” The words spill out, one after another like a flood finally dropping after hours of mere drizzling. “Adaine, you're amazing and impressive and everything you do is awe-inspiring.” He can’t stop, no matter how stormy her expression gets. “You killed a dragon. You saved the world. You’re the Elven Oracle! Ever since freshman year you've been larger than life, how was I ever going to talk to you?”

Adaine stares. And then she laughs. 

It starts small. A minor hitch in her chest. He almost thinks it’s a hiccup, the way her chest jumps but then it happens again. And again. A moment later he can hear the rumble. It builds in her throat, louder and louder like rolling thunder until it billows out of her in shocking, staticky waves. 

Oisín has seen Adaine angry before. Oisín has made Adaine angry before, as stupid as he knew it was. He had always been invisible to her before. Someone she didn’t see. But he had hoped—prayed—that maybe if she could just feel it too, that if she just understood what it was like, then when they raised a new god into the heavens that she would be by his side.

It was stupid. Foolish. Incredibly reckless. 

And maybe if past-Oisín had seen what he’s seeing now, he would have understood just how bad of a plan that had been.

Oisín has seen Adaine angry before. But Oisín has never seen her this furious before. 

Magic runs through his veins. It sparks under his skin every time the fabric of the universe shifts. And Adaine rears back up, his blood burns.

She’s not even casting a spell. Magic simply ignites with her rage. 

“Larger than life, huh. Oisín, the only reason I'm at Aguefort is because I failed the Hudol entrance exam after having a panic attack in a testing room of three-hundred people and puking on my neighbor.” 

Her voice raises with each sentence, as the house bellows behind her. Places as intimidating as this often have deep magic seeped into its bones. They’re violent. Reactive. Protective and petty in equal parts. Adaine stands in the doorway of Mordred Manor as she screams and Oisín can feel the malice from them both. 

“I've spent my entire life an embarrassment to my parents and now I have to spend my summer hunting down my mom, again, so I can kill her since for some fucking reason she refuses to stop being evil! My life is one catastrophic disaster after the next, and for once, you made me feel normal!” 

Out of the corner of his vision, he sees the silhouette of another lean blonde elf watching through a window. Joy. They have an audience. The elf jauntily waves and he winces. 

“For once, I was a normal girl doing normal things and having a normal life. There was a normal cute boy who made me feel normal feelings like everyone else just gets to have. And what I got in return was being humiliated for even having the hope that I could ever feel that way about someone.” 

And then the worst possible outcome happens. She breaks. 

The house crashes back down, creaking as air rushes out every opening it can find. Her voice hitches as she bites her lip. She’s staring at the ground. “But maybe I'm just the stupid one. I should have known better from the start.” 

“I-” 

The words won’t come. He’s had the wind knocked out of him, left with nothing else to say, no way to react to this paradigm shift Adaine has dropped on his head. 

She looks back up at him. There’s tears in her eyes. “I defended you to my friends, Oisín.” 

“I'm sorry.” It’s the only thing he can say. 

“I know you are.” She turns back away. “Get out of my house.” 

He doesn’t stop her this time.

Adaine Abernant hates him. 

At least they have one thing in common. 

[hand-written-dreams]

CRIMSOM SHADE

Chapter 05

Bitter Hearts and Burning Ashes

What do you want from me?

Why don't you run from me?

What are you wondering?

What do you know?

- ( The song of the Chapter is ''Bury a friend" by Billie Eilish)

"You are going to work for me."

His cold eyes fix on her scowling ones. 

"He’s gotta be fucking kidding me," Khushi scoffs while her brain processes his words. It’s atrocious.

"Excuse me."

He shrugs as if it's already decided, as if it's inevitable.

Khushi lets out a sarcastic laugh. "Wow, didn’t realize I was in the market for a new boss. Thanks for the offer though, but my calendar is pretty full."

Unbothered, he just stares at her with his arm crossed across his chest. “If he led you to me, he can lead others to me as well. I don’t want my name dragged somewhere it shouldn’t be. I want you to find him for me, " he states as if he were talking to a child.

"Why me? Don't you have an entire IT Department at your disposal?"

“I don’t want Mr. Rathore finding out before I know exactly what I’m dealing with. An attack on me is an attack on him as well."

“And you can’t buy one competent IT employee to keep his mouth shut?”

“Why would I when I can get it done for free?”

“Didn’t know the great ASR was such a cheapo,” she snaps back immediately.

A ghost of a smirk threatens to curve in the corner of his lips, the tiniest of smirks, "I am actually doing you a favour, giving you a chance to find him yourself. "

"You know Mr.Raizada, your ego’s so massive, I’m surprised it doesn’t have its own zip code or a country, maybe even a national anthem." She looks at him so matter-of-factly that it almost feels like she’s stating the obvious.

Truth be told, his faint, teasing, barely-there smirk irritates the hell out of her. She wants to wipe that off his face. "And why would I need your 'favour' to find him?" she says, making air quotes around the word 'favour'. "I can find him myself."

"Hmm, Sure you can. I assume you have access to a highly protected network, plenty of cutting-edge encrypted gadgets and a satellite feed, right?" he says, raising a finger for each. His phone beeps in his pocket, momentarily diverting his attention.

What is it about Khushi that makes a guy two times hotter to her when he talks tech?

No, Khushi. Focus.

He is a trouble,

No matter how much tech he’s talking, No matter how cool his tech is.

Her internal monologue is interrupted by a small voice in the back.

"But Khushi, he said he can give you access to a satellite."

Every neuron of her brain, every single one of them, jumps at the idea and for a brief second, every one of them just... swoons. Her inner coder is tempted to reroute the current conversation to a different stream entirely. But no, that would be reckless.

"Engrave this in your mind, Khushi. I’m only saying it once. Mr.Raizada is like a Trojan horse, an unpredictable bug. If he crashes your Central Processing Unit, no amount of trouble-shooting would help you. Remember that," she scolds herself in silence.

Mr. Raizada, oblivious to her internal struggle, remains focused on his phone, the glow illuminating his features with an aura of confidence that only heightens her frustration. Shaking her head, she contemplates her next move for a couple of minutes, torn between her better judgment and the thrill of his cool tech gadgets.

“Miss Gupta, we need to wrap this up real quick. I have a meeting to catch," he states absentmindedly while typing on his phone.

"What if I say no?"

This time, her phone beeps with an incoming message. He glances at her, arching an eyebrow as if inviting her to check it. She unlocks the screen. It's a CCTV video of her, pinned against the wall by him in his room. Her voice says, coming from the screen, "The information the bastard of a hacker stole from me. It contains various pieces of evidence against the crimes Mr. Jha and the Serpents committed. I know he sold them to you. I want them back. I worked day and night to collect all of them." Her face is clear, as is her voice.

"Eww, do the girls you take to your room know about that?"

The moment that line leaves her mouth, regret floods in. Why, brain? Why is that the first thing you choose to process about this video? It is totally beyond her comprehension. Her brain does crazy shit like that sometimes.

Something akin to amusement flashes through his eyes for a split second. If she weren’t watching so intently, she might have missed it.

"You are the only lucky girl who'd the privilege. "

Huh.

She blinks.

"Oh, please." She doesn’t hold back the eye roll this time. A wave of heat rushes to her face. She bites her lips, feeling the heat spreading up her neck. She gives herself a mental shake. The last thing she wants to speculate is what Mr. Raizada does or doesn’t do in that room, preferably nothing involving the opposite sex........Shit.

No, nothing involving sex either.

Damn it.

"Khushi, enough with the mental gymnastics," she mutters to herself. And, then... "Wait a second, how did you get my number?"

He takes a deep breath, as if trying to gather some patience, then rubs the side of his temple with his thumb. Mr.Raizada has a scar under his right eyebrow, complete with stitch marks and all. It is old, almost easy to miss. It makes him seem darker, more dangerous. It adds just the right amount of menace to his otherwise polished, meticulously crafted exterior.

"You have no idea who you're talking to, do you?"

She stares at him, unblinking.

"It’s not exactly rocket science to find a phone number these days."

"How?"

He sighs, "Mr. Mathur found it out for me. And it doesn’t hurt that I own the network company you’re using."

Of course. There are hardly any big companies in this city where Rathore Industries didn’t have a stake. Fantastic.

Khushi can tell this is somehow important to Mr. Raizada. He wouldn’t be wasting so much energy on her if it weren’t. Maybe she can spin this to her advantage.

"What do I get in return? The most that video can do is get me killed. I don't fear death."

He lets out a short chuckle, "Liar."

She glares at him and in response, he just challenges her with that condescending look on his face.

"You find him, and I'll kill him for you."

She scoffs, "I can do it myself."

"Really? How many people have you

killed?"

The "bang" of the gunshot still echoes in her head, the memory vivid. Why is everything today dragging her back to that moment? She clenches her teeth nearly grinding them down. At this rate, she might not have any left by the end of this meeting. Arnav Singh Raizade sure knows how to pull her strings. Her next words come out laced with fury,

"I can fill today's quota with you."

"Sure, be my guest.

Exasperated by his antics, she spins on her heel and begins walking, desperate to leave the scene as quickly as possible. But once again, she finds herself flat against another surface, this time, his chest. His grip is firm, bending her arms behind her back as their chests are pressed tightly together.

"When I’m talking, don’t you dare turn your back on me," he growls as his hard eyes bore into hers.

"You can't make me work for you. I don't owe you shit, Mr. Raizada. Get your hands off me."

His grip tightens. "I don’t want to touch you any more than you want to be touched."

"Really?!" she rolled her eyes, sarcasm dripping from her words. "The two times we’ve met, it’s clear how much you hate touching me. You are particularly allergic."

She wiggles. He doesn't flinch.

She squirms. He doesn't flinch.

She twists. He doesn't flinch.

Not even a damn inch.

After cursing him for a thousand deaths in her head, she lets out through her struggle, “Is pinning people to flat surfaces your favourite hobby? If it is, it’s despicable.”

He towers over her, not moving, not speaking, not even blinking. His jaw set like stone.

"You’re nothing like the women I enjoy pinning. I certainly don’t hate them."

"Well, newsflash, Sherlock, I hate you too," she fires back instantly.

"Hate is too weak a word to describe the disdain I have for you." he grits out, his lips curling into a low, feral snarl. "I despise you, "

The sheer venom in his tone makes her flinch. She blinks in disbelief, taken aback by the utter hatred in his eyes. She had expected some level of animosity, given their families' rivalry. But this is different. It feels personal.

Her glare sharpens. "Why? Just because our families are enemies? That doesn’t give you the right to misbehave with me like that.”

His arms tighten around her, drawing them even closer together. Her heart pounds as panic sets in. His eyes lock onto hers. It's dark, darker than ever, mixed with a wild unexplained hunger, that sends shivers down her spine. It’s the most untamed reaction she has ever seen on his face since their paths crossed.

He leans closer, lips almost at her ear. His voice is a rough whisper brushing against her skin. “I haven’t even begun to misbehave yet, Miss Gupta."

She gulps but refuses to let him intimidate her. After a few moments of heart-pounding silence and a stare-down battle, he lets her go and steps back, the cold mask slipping back into place as if it has never faltered, as if he hasn’t just pinned her against him, as if he isn’t the asshole he is. His eyes grew harder with each passing second as she watched him take a deep, steadying breath.

She stands on shaky legs, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Her eyes shoot daggers at him while her fists tighten. Her body trembles with barely suppressed rage. The impulse to find the magazine to load her gun and shoot him is so profound, it nearly brings her to her knees. Shaking her head, she squares her shoulders and lifts her chin defiantly as their eyes lock.

"You’re a jerk. Stay the fuck away from me. I don’t give a damn why the hell he tried to frame you. Both of you can rot in hell for all I care."

This time, when she spins around toward the street, he doesn’t stop her. She slips into her car and shifts into reverse, about to pull out onto the road. She doesn't realize he has come out of the building as well. In the rearview mirror, she catches a glimpse of him, standing there with both hands tucked into his pants pockets. A picture of calm and collected. Unbothered and unfazed.

Through the glass,

His eyes lock onto hers.

His brown to her hazel.

Fire meets fire.

She sees something flicker in his dark, cold orbs while nothing crosses his face. It vanishes like a mirage in the desert, like it was never there.

She drives away. She doesn’t let herself focus on anything but the way her fingers grip the steering wheel. She doesn't let herself feel anything but the blood pounding in her ears.

And, most importantly, she doesn't let herself look back in the rearview mirror.

Not at all.

Not even a single time.

Author’s Note: Thank you for reading! I’d love to hear your thoughts and predictions for what comes next.

See you soon

Meanwhile, stay healthy, stay beautiful.

<previous> | <next>

@arshifiesta @featheredclover @phuljari @jalebi-weds-bluetooth @chutkiandchotte @titaliya

[kiwisa]

Manifesto of a Heartbreaker ✷ cl16

✷ INTRODUCTION TO THE TAMING OF THE HEARTBREAKER, which includes... suggestive content ⏤ 2K words.

━━━━━  PREVIOUS & NEXT !

ılı.lıl Now playing... How To Be a Heartbreaker.

in which... to be a heartbreaker, you need to know a few things !

Being a good heartbreaker is not an easy task. The heartbreaker is a very atypical and complex individual whose signs and patterns you need to know before you can claim to be one. For this reason, this type of individual is much rarer than one might think. In this age of fast feelings and common break-ups, it's easy to confuse them with unsophisticated heartthrobs.

Don't worry though, dear reader, because yours truly has compiled the five rules you need to know to finally master the curious art of breaking hearts and stop confusing the simple player with the real deal! Let's take a look at Y/N L/N, our case study that will allow us to understand the rules to respect, starting with the first one...

RULE n°1 ✷ Have fun !

The call of the flesh is almost impossible to resist. Few people can. The promise of pleasure, the assurance of forgetting everything else for a few minutes... No one can resist what the simple act of loving holds out.

Well, love is not really the word. We tend to apply it to far too many acts, which have nothing to do with love. Let's blame literature and its too perfect idylls, where the man and the woman live happily ever after and have many children, for that. A nightmarish vision that dulls the pleasure of a good fuck. Because this is what "love" should be, in its broadest sense: pleasure, without being spoiled by the complexity of feelings.

The wet sound of passionate kisses broke the silence of the room. In these calls for air and moans, the melody of lust resounded. Wandering hands lifted fabrics, undid buttons, threw down what was in the way and slid into places denied to the naked eye. Laughter sometimes punctuated this sensual dance. It was as much a part of the atmosphere as the smell of sex that filled the room with its musky fragrance.

You were willingly losing yourself in this bodily frenzy, your nails digging into the back of your tonight's fuck. The bed creaked to the rhythm of his trusts, most certainly disturbing the neighbours. You didn't give a damn, lost in this explosion of sensation.

Your eyes, when they weren't closed under the intensity of the pleasure, sometimes wandered over the face—pleasant to look at it, admittedly—of the stranger you had met at the party and who had pulled you out of your morbid boredom. His name was stuck on the tip of your tongue, but it was impossible to pronounce it, the alcohol and the smoke having taken over your memory.

"You like that, huh?"

A blissful smile, a mixture of whiskey and orgasm—the most delicious cocktail—answered for you.

And then, just like that, it was over. The moment was broken. Reality took precedence over the ecstasy that had already vanished.

The urge to do it again, pressing, even disturbing, had to be resisted. Addiction to pleasure was perhaps one of man's worst vices. An endless circle of flesh. One would get lost in it.

"That was fun," you finally said, already busy retrieving your clothes. Without a glance at him, you slipped on your dress without bothering with your underwear and roughly wiped off the mascara, cum, and lipstick spills on your face.

God, you needed a cigarette so bad.

"See you later," you slammed the door behind you after blowing him a kiss. Now you had to brave London on shaky legs. 

So worth it, you thought, a lecherous smile on your face.

Things To Remember: The heartbreaker wants to have fun ! They don’t bother with forms and just comes to get what they came for: pleasure.

RULE n°2 ✷ Don't tie yourself down to anyone !

"Please Y/N, give me a second chance."

When your manager had listed all the appointments for the day, you didn't anticipate that your schedule would also include listening to François begging you to stay with him (even though the relationship was non-existent to begin with), at your door.

All this at only nine o'clock.

And you hadn't even had your coffee yet.

Everything had been simple with François. He was a good guy but, above all, a good lay. The only quality you were looking for in a man. The rest didn't matter to you: intelligence and charisma couldn't be seen in the dark, when they were pounding into you. If this logic was not understood by everyone, you believed that the man in front of you, a bunch of flowers in his hand (roses, ugh, you hated roses), had wrapped his head around it.

You had been mistaken.

"Listen, François," you cut his tirade short. Listening to a Shakespearean soliloquy wasn't really in your plans, especially since your long-distance interview for I-don't-know-what-YouTube channel was about to start any minute. "I really don't have time for this crap. I thought we had a deal," you stressed the last word.

Straight fucking. No feelings. Two sentences. Four words. Child's play on paper.

Apparently not. 

"I thought we were more than that."

In one sentence, you found yourself starring in a 90s romantic comedy, surely with Hugh Grant or Paul Rudd as the lead actor. Life was unfortunately not a movie. You shared this precise thought with François, whose downcast look made you want to throw up.

No promises had been made. No hope for more than sex. How had it come to this?

"Listen to me at least..."

His plea made you cringed. You ignored him, staring at your front door as if, with the power of your gaze alone, you could make him disappear.

"The two of us, it was cool, but it ends here," with the tip of your index finger, you pointed to the exit over his left shoulder. "I'm sorry, but I have to be somewhere."

"B-but, I-um..."

And now he was stammering like a prepubescent teenager.

"Look, I'll leave you to your panic attack. I've got appointments."

Without a word, you slammed the door.

How exhausting goodbyes could be!

Things To Remember: The heartbreaker does not care about feelings, which they find far too annoying ! If you think you've managed to change the heartbreaker, you're wrong. They wouldn't change their lifestyle for anything, especially not you.

RULE n°3 ✷ Make them believe you love them !

"You are adorable. Thank you so much!" The kiss he received on the cheek seemed to bring a dejected face back to life. It was as if, with that simple touch—tiny and so artificial—everything that had happened, the misunderstandings and screw-ups, had been forgotten.

You brought the bouquet of flowers—tulips this time—to your nose, smelling the sweet scent of victory. You had got him exactly where you wanted. 

François was after all a very good fuck, enough to make you fly to Paris just to get laid.

When you had called him to arrange a meeting at the hotel—as usual—, he didn't pick up the phone or even reply to your messages. In his silence, all the resentment that had been your last meeting had transpired. Perhaps the attack on his ego had been too harsh or, in the worst case, he had truly been hurt because of his feelings.

You held back a laugh at the thought. After all, it would have left a bad impression and been counterproductive to your plan. For if seducing was an everyday pleasure, there was a very special reason for those puppy eyes.

Start again from scratch to get fucked good after weeks of dry spell.

It seemed to work because François let his finger brush against your inner thigh.

A few well-turned soft words (I'm sorry. You were right last time.), and they all came running back. Men were so easy to get hold of, so easy to manipulate; weak souls, swooning by the mere promise of a fragment of skin. Men were monomaniacal creatures that could be tamed with a flutter of eyelashes.

As he pulled you to the couch, not even bothering to go into the bedroom, his head buried in your neck—laying down kisses filled with an intoxicating mixture of tenderness and haste—the man whispered a few words you almost didn't hear, too busy thinking about your future orgasm. Finally. 

"I love you."

A mocking smirk disfigured your face in the darkness.

Hook, line, and sinker.

Things To Remember: The heartbreaker will do anything, even hide behind a false mask of love, to get their way ! Rules 2 and 3 therefore complement and oppose each other. They alone show how difficult it is to identify the heartbreaker, who should never be trusted. They are a smooth talker, never forget that !

RULE n°4 ✷ Run and never look back !

The night had weighed down the sky for a long time already. In this cloak of darkness, the souls still awake indulged in all sorts of vices, protected by the infinite blackness that only the moon could pierce.

Your eyes stung but you refused to give in to the temptation of Morpheus' arms. That night, you had stubbornly not slept so as not to have to face a dreaded moment: the French leave before breakfast.

That pure confusion where, at last, you understand that you weren't looking for the same thing as the other, that you were just a one-night stand which ends with a "See you later" that you must understand as a "goodbye."

Still sitting on the bed, staring at the ceiling, which you could almost make out in the dark, the snoring of that boy—Sam or Charlie, whatever—gave you a headache.

When you finally looked at the clock on your phone, it was 5:26. Time to go home, time for goodbyes. In this case, they would be thankfully short because your “lover” of the night had long since fallen asleep—the weed, sex and alcohol having quickly taken their toll on him.

It was cool, you wrote on a piece of paper. A polite reflex, really. There was nothing else to say. It hadn't been exciting, let alone transcendent... just cool. The dreaded in-between. Mediocrity.

You grabbed your bag, which had been on the ground for a few hours. Without a glance at the man, who seemed unperturbed in his reverie, you tiptoed—or rather ran off.

Like all one-night stands, you felt nothing. No emptiness, no relief—just the satisfaction of a routine being successfully carried out.

It was good, but as the saying goes, it must come to an end. Without those goodbyes, it wouldn't have been a one-night stand but the beginning of a story.

You'd never been very good at writing them.  

"Was he a good fuck?" your friend asked you the next day, around a cup of much-needed coffee.

Sam's face—you think it was Sam—had already faded into the haze of your memories. As always. You lit a cigarette and thought for a bit as the first sip of smoke satisfied you.

It was a good evening. One more to forget after enjoying it.

"It wasn't bad."

And that's all there was to it. It was just a one-night stand. One amongst dozens.

Things To Remember: The heartbreaker is like a mirage ! They disappear at the first rays of sunshine—sometimes even before. The heartbreaker lives at night. You will be lucky if they let you see them in their most innocent state: sleeping. However, this almost never happens, or, if it does, it is a mistake.

RULE n°5 ✷ Repeat rules 1 to 4 endlessly !

You, my dear readers, now have all the material there is to know about in order to try and become a heartbreaker ! Proceed with caution ( and fun ) !

✷ ━━━━ Love Club's Newsletter !

@feminefatal @sad1esgf @bellalilo @goldsainz @motorsp0rt @scooterari @starsanova @g4ns3y @moonyseyelash @ccallistata @cialovessirlewis @ctrlyomomma @questionableppls @leclerc13 @fercedes @charlesswife @iambored24601 @leclercinvegas @fezlvr @ferraribabe @greigreyhiyyih @rqmanoff @kirke-is-my-name @filmflux @dreamycunt69 @briboweee @yu_55 @tinyshadxws @chasingmemyself @topguncultleader @mirrorball-15 @mae119 @kosmosgalore @nylaslife @indecisivelyconfuzzled @kypostsblog @pikaxyeol @eas-8 @tall-tanned-tattoo @rhaeszn @pockyandme @chonkybonky @moon4moony @wonderfulmumbo @magical-spit @nichmeddar @parkersmjs

[coreene]

A Moment of Opportunity

Pairing: Astarion x Fem!Tav

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 2.6k

Summary: Lorelei finds an old ruin to have a little fun on her own. Astarion finds her and decides he wants to be a part of it. Happens after Astarion’s confession and before Cazador fight.

Tags: voyeurism, masturbation, mutual masturbation, dirty talk

Read 👇

We were camping in an old ruin this time around. There were remnants of stone walls all around us. Another clue that we were getting closer to the city. I wanted to explore the area little bit after dinner. There was a small ruin nearby that seemed intact for the most part.

I made my way to it. It was big enough to hold maybe ten people inside. A simple design with a rectangular floor plan; all four of its walls were still standing. It had small arched windows with stained glass, although only one of the windows was still standing. It looked like the others were cracked and disappeared long ago.

I walked inside through the door opening. The door was missing and the surrounding stone bricks of the entry way were the only part of the structure that was broken down. Inside there were stone furniture. A small table by the wall, which looked like an altar. A library next to it with a few benches scattered around. There was also a lavish looking chair with armrests right across it. As intricate the stonework was, the furniture did not look comfortable. It was possibly a shrine; for which deity I could not tell.

I looked around the small room hoping for scrolls. There was nothing but that was a slim chance anyway. I sat down on the altar, looking outside through the only window with the intact glass; trying to figure out the scene. The place was not old enough to be dedicated to one of the forgotten gods but my religion knowledge was embarrassing. Maybe I could bring Shadowheart over here to figure out what it was.

The other windows allowed the full moonlight to enter the room. It was a bright and clear sky tonight. A rather beautiful sight. I listened in the silence a little bit. I could faintly hear the chatter and the laughter coming from the camp fire. Everyone was in high spirits, leaving the cursed lands and being so close to the city was giving us a hopeful outlook on our future.

I told them I was going to look around a little and I should've probably went back now. But then a thought creeped up to the front of my mind. I hadn’t caught a moment alone in a long time and it has been even longer since the last time I had a wet dream. While I was happy with how the things were between Astarion and I, I could use a little release now.

I still had some hesitation but I could already feel the throb in my clit. When was I going to catch a moment to do this again? I only needed a few minutes, and I would be back in no time.

I got comfortable on the altar, leaning back against the wall. I unlaced my trousers with one hand and slipped my fingers under my panties. I sighed when I felt the touch of my own fingers on my now fully swollen clit. It felt like it had been so long since I was touched.

"Fuck," I gasped at the sensation as I started to draw circles with my fingers.

My breathing was picking up now. I could feel my juices poling between my legs. I closed my eyes, leaning behind completely as I alternated between circling my clit and dipping my hands lower to gather my arousal. I needed to be a little more wet before I could slip my fingers inside.

"My my, what do we have here?"

I opened my eyes and pulled my hands out of my pants with a gasp. There Astarion was, leaning against the half-collapsed wall looking at me with hungry eyes, wearing a smirk.

"Astarion!" I breathed, relieved that it was him and not somebody else. Still the shock had left my heart pounding in my ears.

"Please, don't stop on my account, my love," he spoke in a deep sultry tone.

I blinked a few times, trying to understand what he was saying. "Oh? Does that mean you would like to watch?" I asked with a flirtatious smile, tilting my head.

"Mm-hm," he hummed walking in between my legs. “As long as that’s something you’d want.”

“Yes,” I breathed, feeling the wetness between my legs grow.

“Good.” He grabbed my chin and tilted my face upwards as he leaned down. He gave me an open-mouthed kiss; darting his tongue in and out, sucking my lower lip into his mouth, grazing my lip with his teeth.

I was left breathless when he pulled back. All I could do as I took deep breaths was watch him settle on the chair. He placed his hands on the arm rests, opening his legs slightly. I bit my lip as my eyes trailed from what was between his legs to his crimson eyes.

“Comfortable?” I asked with a slight smirk, still breathing heavily.

“Very… now, go on,” he purred as he leaned back, licking his lips.

My hands went back to my pants timidly. I was suddenly very aware of his burning gaze and it was sending blood up to my face. I was feeling a lot warmer than before.

I gasped again when I felt the touch of my fingers on my swollen clit. I looked back at him when I found a comfortable rhythm. My breath got caught in my throat as I saw his soft expression filled with want.

"You are so beautiful," he whispered deeply.

It was too godsdamned hot in here now. I pulled my hand out of my pants and pushed the hem of my shirt up and out, throwing it to the ground - not taking my eyes off of him. He was smiling now.

"Would you like to tell me what you're thinking?" I asked him with a breathy voice as I unhooked my bra and threw it down.

He watched the piece of clothing touch the floor and then his eyes trailed back up to my face.

"I'd be happy to," his gaze fell down to my chest and then back up to my face. "I was just thinking how much I wanted to suck on your nipples and watch them grow hard."

I groaned as his words sent a wave of arousal to my clit.

"Then I would like to push those pants off of you as I teased your skin."

"Mm, you mean like this?" I said getting up before sliding my hands down my stomach and under the waist band of my pants. I pushed the trousers down along with my panties, slowly, giving him a full show.

"Yes," he swallowed "just like that."

I stepped out of the last piece of clothing on my body as I stood bare in front of him. Watching him intently, as his eyes travelled up; lingering on my thighs and chest before settling back on my face.

"Would you like to know what I'm thinking?" I asked with a mischievous smile, noticing him straining in his pants now.

"Gods, yes," he breathed with half lidded eyes.

"I was thinking how much I would like to just kneel right here, in front of you now," I leaned back on the altar, looking into his eyes. "Stroke your aching dick through your pants, pushing up your shirt and giving kisses to your stomach."

"Fuck," he groaned "keep going."

"And then I would free your magnificent cock, lick it from base to tip before I wrapped my lips around it. Do you want to know what I would do after?" I said opening my legs as my fingers found their way back to my clit. I was so wet now.

"Yes, Lore, please," he whispered, eyes focused on what my hand was doing.

"I would bring your hand to my hair because I want you to have all the control, push and pull my head just the way you like it."

"Gods, you're gonna make me come untouched," he let out a soft laugh.

"Now, that's a thought… I'd love to see happen," I gave him a smirk.

"You tease," he said with a chuckle but I could hear the strain in his voice.

I leaned back to the wall completely. I opened my legs more as my hand started to move faster. I dipped down feeling my slick; I was wet enough for my fingers now. He got up from the chair and walked right next to me. I was holding my breath; wondering what he was going to do next.

"Keep going," he whispered and I did as he said.

He placed his hands around my waist, the difference in temperature making me jump slightly as he let out a slight chuckle. He brought his lips to my ears before he spoke. "Would you like to know what I'm thinking now?"

"Gods, yes," I breathed, feeling his fingers teasing my skin. Every little movement he made sent another jolt of arousal through my body.

"There are no gods here, say my name," he said in a deeper voice.

"Astarion," I moaned and started to draw bigger, lazier circles so I wouldn't come so soon.

"Good girl," he placed his other hand to my face.

"Ah, fuck," his words were sending wave after wave of pleasure through my body. "I'm going to come."

"Not before you push those fingers in," he said brushing back a strand of my hair.

"But I can't come with just them alone," I whined as the tips of my fingers stroke my entrance up and down, gathering slick.

"It's alright. That just means we have more time for this." He said as he looked down, leaning his head onto mine.

The fact that he was watching me so intently was doing things to me. Maybe I would be able to come with my fingers alone, who knows?

My fingers teased my entrance a few more times before one of them slid inside. I was so tight; I could feel it move inside my walls.

"How does that feel?" He whispered as he left a kiss to my sweat covered cheek.

"Good," I said as I started to pump my finger in and out.

"Can you push another finger inside?" He asked with his hand on my waist, stroking my skin lovingly.

"Yes," I breathed and pushed my second finger in with the other. Once I was comfortable with the stretch, I slowly started to move my fingers in and out again.

"You've been so good, you deserve a little reward," he said tilting my head to him with his fingers as he leaned down and captured my lips.

I moaned into his mouth, prompting a chuckle from him. Suddenly it didn't feel all that impossible to come on my fingers. I found the perfect angle to stimulate my clit with each stroke. I arched my back into his body as his hand on my head moved to my back, pulling me flush with him. I could feel how hard he was in his pants. Gods, I wanted him inside me. I missed his dick so much.

"Astarion," I moaned the movement of my hands growing erratic "I'm going to come." We were both breathing heavily now. He removed his hand from my waist as I faintly heard the shuffle of his pants.

I closed my eyes at the sensation of my fingers and the feeling of his lips, lavishing me with kisses. His lips moved on from my open mouth to my jaw and to my neck. I was moaning louder and louder with each touch. I faintly registered him pulling his cock free. He pulled his body back, only a little, to give himself room to stroke himself. I wanted to touch him so badly.

"Come for me, my love," he whispered, lips right next to my ear. He gave a sloppy kiss to my ear as he breathed out.

It was enough. Everything; his breath, his proximity, my fingers working in and out – it was more than enough for me to reach my climax. He held me tight as my body convulsed uncontrollably in pleasure. I could feel the clenching of my own walls around my fingers. They were begging to milk his cock.

I was still dizzy with my high but I wanted to see him. He was stroking himself faster now.

"Do you want to come on my body?" I whispered.

"Yes," he spoke with desperation, eyes closed shut.

"Come on my tits, paint them white with your seed. I want to taste you so badly." I spoke as I pulled my fingers out. They were slick with my arousal.

He opened his eyes, looking down on me. I brought my hand to my nipples, pinching and rubbing. They were glistening with my wetness now. He groaned, his strokes getting erratic. He was close. He captured my lips again as a moan escaped his mouth and I felt him spurt his come on my nipples.

"Lorelei," he moaned between our kisses as he continued to shoot his seed, covering my breasts in creamy cum.

He leaned his forehead onto mine when he finished, pulling me into a deep kiss.

"I love you so much," he said when he pulled back, breathing heavily.

"I love you too," I whispered as I felt my eyes burning. I was so happy. I looked up at him, looking down on me. Realising what he was doing, I leaned back on my hands, raising my chest so he could admire his work.

"Gods you look beautiful," he said with twinkles in his eyes. He was loving this.

I moved a finger to my breasts, gathering some of his spend and bringing it down to my wet pussy lips, mixing them. I lifted my finger, now covered in both his cum and mine, back to my lips. I looked into his eyes as I sucked my fingers like it was the most delicious thing in the world.

"You are a temptress," he said with a chuckle.

"I know," I laughed with him.

I was sweaty and covered in cum. While I loved the way I looked at the moment I was acutely aware of the cold night air, now that I wasn't running so hot anymore. I felt my nipples harden painfully as a shiver past me.

"We need to get you cleaned up." He tucked himself in and went back to the entryway.

"Hmm, there are still some people around the fire." He said looking out. He came back to my side, picking up a handkerchief from his pocket. “This’ll have to do for now.”

I watched him as he gently cleaned up the last of his spend. He then looked at me with a smirk. “Or maybe we can ask Gale for a little prestidigitation spell?”

I shook my head side to side with a smile. “You offered to let them watch this morning. Now you want me to go over there with your cum on my chest for a spell… is there something you want to tell me?”

He let out a loud laugh as he pulled back. “I just enjoy showing you off, my dear.”

I chuckled and jumped down from the table, finding my underpants and trousers. I pulled them up with one motion and moved onto hooking my bra. “We should probably get back. Before one of them decides to look for us.” I said as I put on my tunic.

“Let’s go,” he held my hand, interlocking our fingers and we walked out of the entry way. I hugged his arm and leaned onto him as we made our way back to the fire.

from chapter 39 of Lorelei's Journal

[sinner-sunflower]

P.2 HH Lucifer-centric AU 17/?

STORY 1, PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, PART 9, PART 10, PART 11, PART 12, PART 13, PART 14, PART 14.5, PART 15, PART 16, PART 18, PART 19, PART 20, PART 21, PART 22, PART 23, PART 24, PART 25, PART 26

I live!

I can finally post this chapter 😭😭😭

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Before anyone could react, Lucifer flashes his eyes with a chilling intensity. Time itself stopped, as if the universe held its breath.

The now sinner wasn't even the least bit surprised; in fact, he didn't even tried to hide his annoyance.

Adam: Ugh. I hate it when you do that. I'm surprised Sera never questioned why our meetings were so short-

The sudden impact to Adam's chest silenced him mid-sentence. One moment he was speaking, the next he was on his back with the King of Hell straddling him. He loves seeing Lucifer furious, but only when he knows the other can't kill him as long as he's an angel of Heaven.

Can't not won't because he's pretty sure Lucifer will kill him if given the chance.

He doesn't know if he should be grateful of the fact that Lucifer didn't kill him in the last extermination.

Lucifer: How are you here?

Lucifer spoke with fire, lightly singeing Adam's face as he asked, no, demanded an answer.

Adam: U-Fuck! I don't know man! Get off du- Hey! Stop that! Hands off the merchandise!

Adam yelled as Lucifer ripped open his clothes, revealing a white scar right in the middle of the first man's chest.

Lucifer: Talk.

The other gulped. Adam had never been afraid of Lucifer not back then and especially not now. But he does value his life, so.

Adam: Man, I told you. I. Don't. Know. One minute I was dyin' on your gross floor and then next poof I woke up on the edge of some fucking cliff looking like one of you disgusting freaks. You have no idea how much of a bitch it was to walk from there to this stupid city. I kept dying from random shit and then I spawn back to that cliff!

Lucifer: What cliff?

Adam: Dude, do I look like a cliff expert? Just some random one with a weird lookin' mountain over-

Lucifer: Which direction!

Adam: -South! God, chill.

The Sin of Pride doesn't need a map to know what Adam is now talking about. He may be a recluse but he knows Hell like the back of his hand.

Lucifer: Mount Sinai…

Adam: Uh what?

Lucifer: Mount Sinai, principal site of divine revelation.

Adam: Huh? Isn't that where that Moses dude got the 10 rules-

Lucifer: Commandments.

Adam: -from your daddy?

Lucifer: First of all, don't call The Almighty "daddy". Second, yes. Most significant landscapes that form on Earth reflect here. Even the one where Satan tested Prince of Heaven.

Adam purposely yawns obnoxiously.

Adam: Boringggg. What does that mountain got to do with me?

Lucifer: Maybe it's telling you that you're now a disgusting freak like us cause you're too stupid to realize.

Adam: Fuck you.

Lucifer: No thanks.

To that, the turned sinner quirked an eyebrow and gave a little smirk.

Adam: Oh really? Cause you're not getting off me any time soon. Unless… You want the whole Eden package, Luci?

Lucifer's face spoke volumes, each expression a testament to his thoughts on the matter at hand. Adam, catching the subtle disdain in Lucifer's gaze, felt a twinge of offense directed at his pride. After all they'd been through??! It's like the guy doesn't even know him.

Adam: Rude ass bitch. Fuckin' get off then before one of us does a different kind of getting off.

The King jumped back as if he'd been scorched, hissing his disdain for the man before him.

Adam: You act like I wanted to come here. Down here is just... ugh. I want to go back up there, thank you very much. This place looks even tackier than last time, by the way. I even went to the damn embassy.

Lucifer chose to ignore the jab about the hotel.

Lucifer: Let me guess, you forgot the ban on any sinner soul to enter?

Adam: Who even thought of that?!

Lucifer: You did, dumbass.

Adam: Yeah- well- I still say it's your fault! Now go there and contact Sera for me. How are you still here anyway? Shouldn't Heaven be punishing you for killing their totally fuckable first man?

Lucifer: Fatherdamnit, why did your ego not die with your divinity? And to answer your question, Heaven hasn't contacted us ever since the battle.

Adam: What?! Why??? I'm THE fucking first man! Maybe they're preparing for a war to kill all you fuckers.

Lucifer: They're preparing for a war alright.

Lucifer didn't mean to say that but thankfully Adam's habit of selective hearing whenever he speaks hasn't changed.

Adam: What was that?

Lucifer: I said maybe you're just that insignificant to them.

Adam: Just like you? Also, why the fuck do you look like that?

The King tilts his head to the side, a calculated gesture meant to convey innocence.

Lucifer: Like what?

Adam: Like that!

Lucifer: What do you mean? I've always looked like this.

Adam: Uhhh no. I've known you for literally all my life and after. I think I would've made fun of you more if you looked like an emo clown since the beginning.

Lucifer: How would you know what an emo is?

Adam: Bruh, have you seen my lieutenant?

He had but he doesn't think she's emo. Charlie had an emo phase and that just became his basis on what that word means. An idea struck him, and he pondered sharing some old photos of Charlie to Vaggie...

His contemplation was interrupted by Adam's whistle, pulling him back to the present moment.

Adam: Helloooooooo. Earth to Lucifer. I'm still here you know and I know that you don't want me here as much as I do.

Adam is right.

Though the first man's presence grated on him, and the fact that he wants nothing more than to send him back to Heaven, he knew it was a futile endeavor.

There is no way they're going to take him back because, for one, whether they like it or not, the guy is a demon now.

He could try Sera but she hasn't contacted him since the last extermination-that-wasn't and Michael did mention "taking care" of her so that's out of the question.

Seeing as there is no other solution, he resigned himself to handling the situation as every other demon had.

Lucifer: Let's make a deal then.

Adam: Psh! A deal with the literal Devil? You think I'm some kind of moron?

Lucifer: .... Maybe.

Adam: Fuck you!

Lucifer: Yeah yeah. You keep saying that. So?

Adam must have deduced that this was Lucifer's way of saying"what other choice do you have?" and just groans in resignation.

Adam: Just lay it on me.

Lucifer: You be my personal assistant.

His reply came as quick as the offer.

Adam: No.

Lucifer: No?

Adam: Yeah fuck that. I'm not gonna be your servant.

Lucifer: I'm fine with leaving you on the streets, you know. But how do you think the demons out there will react once they discover that you're a former angel? The head of the exorcists at that. And trust me, we will let them know.

Adam: Yeah- well- The hotel! I'm pretty sure your dear princess won't turn me away if I say that I'm here for this redemption bullshit.

Lucifer: Oh! That's great then! I'm sure Nifty won't have a problem having another helping knife- I mean, hand around.

Lucifer, for his part, harbored no illusions about allowing the man near his daughter, but he found a certain amusement in Adam's discomfort, especially with Nifty.

The prospect of Adam's paranoia amuses him greatly that he allowed himself a faint chuckle.

Adam's eyes flick towards the gremlin cyclops. HDespite his attempts to rationalize away his fear, he couldn't shake the sensation of impending danger of being killed. Again. He lets out an involuntary shiver.

Weighing the pros and cons, he eventually decides that his life is more important than his pride.

Adam: Fiiiiiiiiiiiineee. I'll be your fuckin' errand boy.

Lucifer: Great! And another thing. Keep the innuendos to a zero. Especially around my daughter.

Adam: Come on. Don't tell me you don't love it!

Lucifer: I really don't.

Adam: Anyone would be lucky to have a taste of this majestic dick, yaknow.

Lucifer: Yeahhhhhh, still no.

Adam: I heard you can change into a girl.

A snap.

Adam: So, just let me fuck you once and I promise you'll never want another dick agai-

As the static noise filled the room, Adam found himself the target of collective anger and simmering hostility from the others. His ill-considered words had ignited a storm of rage, each member of the gathering consumed by thoughts of murder.

Adam was the only one physically affected, his ears covered in a futile attempt to shield himself from the overwhelming static.

Alastor: I suggest you watch what you say next, first man.

Sensing the danger he's in, Adam stood up and pointed an accusatory finger at Lucifer. Well, he tried to but he got pinned back to the ground by sets of multiple hands.

Adam: You set me up!

Lucifer: Dunno what you're talkin' about, buddy.

Charlie: Dad, what's going on? What do we do with Adam?

Lucifer: Don't worry about him, sweetie. He'll be staying at the palace doing my paperwork like a good assistant-

Adam: -Ugh! I hate doing paperwork!

Lucifer: -until we can figure out why he's here.

Charlie: I don't know, dad...

Lucifer: Trust me. You don't want him here.

The silent exchange between father and daughter carried a weight of unspoken understanding. After a while, Charlie gave her dad a reluctant but genuine expression of trust. Her acknowledgment broke the tension, softening the atmosphere between them.

Charlie: Okay. I trust you.

However, their moment was interrupted by the clearing of a throat, drawing their attention back to the chaotic scene unfolding before them. Adam is now suspended upside down by the irate Sins and Alastor.

Adam: So uh, can you tell your simps to put me down now?

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So! I'm back.

I didn't really plan for Adam to be part of the hotel right now. We'll still get to see him but he'll just be at the palace.

With Lute and Heaven not knowing that Adam isn't dead but just fallen and Hell not knowing that Sir Pentious has been redeemed.... who knows what will happen?

Hope this chapter was worth the wait ;;

And yes that is a Jesus mention.