#point after everything I don’t know if I want anyone to

[randomness-is-my-order]

another thing that always struck me about jiang cheng and wei wuxian’s relationship is how little jc actually seems to understand wwx and where he was coming from and this is not just an empathy problem (though that is entirely present, too) but also the lack of effort to truly open up to wei wuxian’s pov and seek it from the source himself.

this is possibly the randomest example i can give but during their chat in the burial mounds, jc comments on the situation with the food and whether crops would even grow in the burial mounds and whether people could even live there and it’s just...even if he’s not sure about wwx spending months in the burial mounds, he KNOWS wwx lived in the streets in his early childhood and nothing gives people the mentality of “survival before all else” than that but jc had either never bothered to learn about wwx’s past before he came to lotus pier in all the years he’d known him or he did know and never bothered to contexualise things so he didn’t have to wonder whether a comfortable lifestyle was truly a valid concern for wwx. here’s the passage if anyone wants to read the exact phrasing:

Jiang Cheng was incredulous. “You’re planting things on a mountain made of corpses? Will anything that grows even be edible?” “Trust me. Anything is edible when you’re hungry enough.” “Do you really plan on settling here for the long-term?” Jiang Cheng asked. “Can people even live in a hellish place like this?” “I lived here for three months before,” Wei Wuxian stated.

now, ik jc’s headspace at the time was focussed on detracting wwx’s resolve to live in the burial mounds but my point is moreso that jc actually did not comprehend who wwx was as a person in the books, ever. he literally never came close. and this isn’t even about the missing information like the golden core transplant or the true circumstances of wwx’s three months disappearance. it’s jiang cheng thinking wwx always wanted to show off, linking his actions to a hero complex, thinking wwx was needlessly arrogant, not understanding why wwx would stick his neck out for the wens. it’s the way jiang cheng rarely, if ever, gave wei wuxian any grace in his reading of his actions–always looking at wei wuxian through a lens that was inherently unfavourable and thereby, never allowed him to truly view wwx for who he is.

in contrast, wei wuxian always understood jiang cheng in a way i don’t think jc knew he did. the way he knew where jc’s cutting words originated from, the way he could read jc’s insecurities, the way he could empathise with his grief and anger, even after everything went to absolute hell between the two. i’m not claiming wei wuxian understood jiang cheng like no other or had some uniquely profound insight into his mindset but there is enough content in the books that makes it clear that wei wuxian saw jiang cheng for the person that he was and gave him more grace (than he deserved, imo) and that this understanding was not at all present in jiang cheng’s perspective of wei wuxian.

which brings me to another observation: jiang cheng may or may not have loved wei wuxian but he sure as hell never respected him. because when you respect someone (and i’d argue there is no real love without respect), you try to get to know the person, try to see their side of things, try to assemble your opinion of them after informing yourself about their life. jiang cheng, for me, never exhibited the interest to go even slightly out of his way and gain a better understanding of wwx. wei wuxian wasn’t someone he wanted to spend that kind of time on – be it because jc had internalised the social hierarchy separating them, had never liked wwx for being better than him in various fields or because he was simply not the kind of person who would be emotionally even a little generous in his relationships. it doesn’t matter.

the point for me is that this give-and-take was never balanced. it was always wei wuxian over-extending his internal resources while jc never realised or refused to. some say their relationship only became worse/toxic after the wen remnants were rescued but the seeds were there since their childhoods. their circumstances exacerbated the issue tenfold, yes, most definitely, but that issue was always present and would blow up their relationship sooner or later, as long as jiang cheng didn’t have substantial growth. jiang cheng continuing to live was worth the sacrifice for wei wuxian (be it from a source of affection, obligation, duty, anything) but staying by wei wuxian’s side after the shift to burial mounds was not worth the trouble for jiang cheng. and yes their personalities have alot to do with their individual decisions in these pressing matters but i’m sure that were it jiang yanli who had taken wei wuxian’s spot, jiang cheng’s actions would be far different but do the switch with jiang cheng, and wei wuxian would still make the same choice. because jiang cheng’s relationship with wei wuxian was undeniably unbalanced to begin with. he never did consider wwx his equal and so, never tried to put in the same effort that wwx did. it’s as simple as that.

[justaragdollysblog]

Could you do a hurt/comfort Carnival!bunnydoll fic where Jax is having a mental breakdown over why he wants to hurt the players so much? I loved your last abstragedy fic <3

AHHH thanks so much!!!! I don’t know the absolute most ab the amazing digital carnival, so i hope this is okay!!

AU belongs to @sm-baby !

TW: Angst, Hurt/comfort, Mentions of death/murder, Mental breakdown

A Beast with Chains Still

Bites

———————————————————————

Jax lay in his room, which was more akin to a cell at this point. The chain around his neck had long since been cumbersome. He knew he was the reason for it.

He, like everyone else, had ‘woken up’ and realized the gravity of everything. That, even if they were trapped, no one would ask questions. No one would come find them. Even if they did, he hardly expected he’d be offered a way out.

Not after what he’s done.

He felt his ears start to droop, as he remembered what it felt like to hurt those players. People who meant well, at the wrong place at the wrong time. He didn’t know why exactly he slaughtered them, but he felt…somehow refreshed after.

But that was then, and this is now. And, how he wished it wasn’t. How he wished he was wearing his scarf again, teaching whoever wandered into his level about animation. He’d trade the softness of his scarf for the cold metal any day.

He recalled when he was first locked in his room. When he clawed at the door, begging for anyone to let him out. To understand what he was feeling and why he acted that way. One of his peers did, though:

Ragatha.

She would visit him very frequently, bringing him food and talking outside his door. Sometimes, on a rare occasion, she did enter his room. Those nights were spent in heavy silence, but her presence helped.

Jax could feel his heartbeat, or whatever he had in there, quicken. A lot. He gasped a bit, moving to try and hold his ears, like he did when he was upset and no one else was around.

The chain clunked against the floor as he grabbed his ears, and he started to sob at the hollow sound. It was a terrible, ever-present reminder of the fate he made for himself. A cell within a cell.

He hated that he felt this way. He hated that his first instinct with his newfound sentience was to lash out. It didn’t get him anywhere but more alone.

His breathing was frantic now, and he let out a strangled whimper as he feebly grabbed at the chain around his neck. The walls were blurring together, black and white, black and white everywhere. He was about to scream, when he heard a knock-

“Jax? I heard sobbing. Can I come in?” He recognized the voice almost immediately. Ragatha. The good-hearted, formal doll that had accompanied him on so many nights like this.

He took a deep, shaky breath. “…Yeah. Yeah, you can come in.” The gentle turning of the doorknob could be heard, and then an even gentler snap of the lock.

He didn’t meet her gaze. His breathing was still frantic and choppy, but slightly less so. Ragatha frowned and made her way over to him, kneeling down next to him. “It’s okay. Just try and focus on me.” She soothed.

Jax tried to calm his breathing, but the rattling of the horrid noise from the horrid chain didn’t help. He gasped again, shutting his eyes tightly. Ragatha smiled a bit, holding the chain in place.

“I won’t let it move, if you can try and breathe. It won’t make a sound, Jax. I promise.” Ragatha had a firm but kind grip on the chain. Just like she always was. Jax tried to breathe for several minutes, eventually returning to a rhythmic pace.

Ragatha smiled again, looking at him through a half lidded, understanding eye. “There we go. I knew you could.” She cooed, voice hushed. Jax felt himself wanting her to talk like that more.

“…I don’t know why I want to hurt them, doll. I don’t know why I did this to myself.” He muttered, voice catching on the last few words. Ragatha sighed a bit again, but a kind sigh. She was not incredulous or exasperated. She could understand, to an extent.

“I understand. I don’t think it’s right that things happened the way they did. But, I’ll always be here, bun. Even if the others warn me not to, I’ll find a way. I won’t leave you.” She soothed, putting a gentle and slow hand on his cheek.

Jax was entirely too tired and lonely to resist the touch or convince himself how much he didn’t need it. He moved his head into her hand, eyes closing. He really was tired. He could feel sleep and some semblance of peace pulling at his mind.

Ragatha scooched closer, laying his head down on her lap. She began to pet his ears, and she looked down at him with a smile full of empathy and understanding.

“We’re gonna be okay, bunny. No matter what.” She pressed a small kiss to his forehead, and he pressed his head deeper into her hands. How long had he been craving a touch like this?

Jax knew in the morning, he’d have to be alone again. He’d deal with it when it rolled around. Her touch was too soft to consider it going away right now.

He really needed this.

———————————————————————

WOOOO done! i hope this was good! if it wasn’t similar to the request, pls lmk! i went w this like after he was already locked away lol

reblogs are always appreciated! see you guys soon!

[thats-rough-buddy04]

After almost five years I decided to rewatch Voltron.

1. Because it’s getting booted off of Netflix

2. I wanted to do more of critical analysis of it now that it’s been so long since I watched it . Does it hold up? Do I view the characters the same as I used to? Trying to separate that fanon from canon.

3.I also wanted to see how plausible was Klance and was I being delulu all those years ago? Like I know of the art done by story board artist and stuff but just by the show itself, do them being together romantically make sense?

This is my season 1 analysis because doing it by season makes the most sense.

So season 1 was still pretty solid. The pacing was very quick and it was hard to digest what was going on cause it just was rapid shot of information. I think the biggest offender of this was the first episode which just everything was moving so quick. I feel that could have been a longer episode and it would have helped the flow of the first season a lot. Like they are on Earth for like 15 mins, and within that 15 minutes we are introduced to most of the main cast, already introduced to the first piece of Voltron, then boom space. Bring back 24 episode seasons especially if most episodes are 20 mins.

The main cast quickly got over being in space and you know having to pilot a huge mech pretty quickly which like if that was me I would be freaking out for awhile. Like it was maybe a minute and then everything was chill. Again everything was just quick pacing wise.

I still really like the fight scenes both with the mech and on foot. The animation pops off and it’s a fun watch. The humor for the most part was fine, like I didn’t think it was outstanding but I’m also not in the target demographic anymore. Like the simple joke about the sounds of a blaster was funny and it made me laugh. But there is jokes where I’m just like oh….. but they quickly move on from it so it doesn’t bother me as much. For Lance being the supposed comedic character I thought Hunk was funnier because Lance is not funny he’s mean.

With that Lance is just plain mean to Keith, when Keith has done jack shit to him. Keith will only retaliate after Lance says something to him. There was about one time Keith started it but who can blame him when Lance is constantly being a bitch. Which meanness comes with insecurity and it’s obvious he struggles with insecurity even if they haven’t really touched on that yet. Lance also almost dies multiple times this season which i don’t have much to comment on just that he almost gets sucked out of an air lock and Keith has to save him.

The Main Cast:

Shiro: His character arc hasn’t happened yet but the crumbs have been laid. I like him alot. I think how quickly he becomes dedicated to Voltron is believable because of how much he suffered in the Galran prison. Like he doesn’t want what happened to him to happen to anyone else. He’s the most serious out of the bunch but it makes sense since he’s seen what the Galra can do.

Pidge: I don’t much to say about her. When I was I younger I didn’t have much to say about her and I don’t have much to say about her now. Doesn’t mean she’s bad, I don’t really have much a a connection with her. I do really like the story line about finding her family though and I’m excited to rewatch that payoff.

Hunk: Like with Pidge I didn’t have a feeling either way for Hunk when I was younger but where that differs is that I appreciate him alot more now. That mini arc he goes through where he discovers how bad the Galra truly are, was pretty good. Him being the most scared to take risks then being the one urging the rest of the team to save the planet was a change of character but the was obviously the point. Also his relationship with Shay is super cute.

Allura: I adore her. She is serious like Shiro but again she had her whole race wiped out by the Galra, she knows that what they are doing is important. Yeah so she is bit tough on the paladins but she does it with the hopes they’ll be ready to save the universe. She is just a girl and I love that for her. The scene where she has to let go of her father for the final time is really sad because she is not just losing her dad but what seems like the last remnants of her home planet. I also just love her design, the pink is such a pretty color and suits her so well.

Coran: He’s funny, he’s silly. Still adore him, nothing can change that.

Keith: I adore this man. But season one Keith really doesn’t have much going on. Like he’s reckless and stubborn but that’s kinda all we know about him. His name is Keith, he was living in a shack, he’s good a flying and fighting, and he has a close relationship with Shiro but even that is shown for like a second in the first episode. I do know their dynamic is explored more later or which I hope so it’s been so long I don’t remember. I remember him being the more mean one but he’s not, he’s a guy and I love him for that. I also remember him being the super serious one but in reality he’s silly and goofy when he wants to be. He only gets serious when it’s mission time as he should be. I am excited to watch his full character arc but I can’t remember my opinions on it but I remember other people not liking it, so hopefully I do.

Lance: Lance is one of my most favorite characters ever. There comes a time in every man’s life where they must critique the things they love and now it’s mine. There isn’t much going on with him. He is there to be the funny guy which doesn’t work cause I don’t find him very funny. When his thing is to be funny it comes off as being mean makes it very hard to like him. I grimaced a couple times for what came out of that man’s mouth. I know he has a character arc but omg it’s so hard to like him at all season 1 for a character that’s supposed to be likable. That doesn’t mean there wasn’t moments where I saw the man I used to know but season 1 Lance very unbearable for the most part. I think I gasped audibly when he was like I miss Varadero Beach, cause I didn’t remember if the show itself said he was Cuba, I just assumed it was someone who worked on the show did. So I was like oh I’m dumb, it’s literally in the show.

Klance: For two characters that don’t have much going on this season, their dynamic is so odd. Like half their screen time is bickering, that Lance starts. They’re not rivals because Keith doesn’t view Lance as a rival, so it’s one sided rivalry. Then you think oh they just hate each other, but again Keith doesn’t hate Lance, it’s just Lance being a hater. But with that I can still see why people started to ship them. There were moments I was like wait…like when Lance asks Keith to save him after he gets chained to a tree. Keith response is a bit flirty to me and I was oh..wow. I see why people shipped them but I don’t see how they were thought as endgame, from just watching season 1.

I’m looking forward to season 2 but nervous for the rest of the series because I know the farther you get into the show the worst it gets. I don’t want to watch s7 and s8, there is no need to relive that. We will see when I get there though.

Also the fact it’s getting taken off Netflix is crazy. Like where is it going? Like I know it’s because of the contract with Netflix but I also theorize it might have something to do with the life action. If anyone wants to know where to watch after it does I can link it, cause trust I wanted to make sure I had a way to watch before it was gone for good.

[whimsyprinx]

going to be sad again rq and say that I have gotten closer to giving up on believing that I am loved or like worthy of love

[yourheartinyourmouth]

guys tell me i’m being silly for being disappointed that i didn’t get a call back today for a job i applied to friday

[lesbiansanemi]

Every time someone uses last sunrise to talk about how much they hate shinobu I want to get out a spray bottle and repeatedly use it on them. Like no actually this fic is just as much a love letter to shinobu as it was to renkaza this is not a place for ppl who hate her this is a place where we come to discuss and understand her better

[dr-lizortecho]

when someone whose only ever been an asshole to you realizes you’re being polite and don’t actually like them and then they try and buy your love- like sorry you’re not a milf so that won’t work

[ghostsangel]

Please please please can I get Ghost being so unhealthy obsessed with a girl who insists she can do everything herself. No she doesn't need help with the gear, nobody ever helped her before. Want to spot her? Fuck off. She's not lifting more than she can handle. She won't take help from anyone and it pisses Ghost off.

Secretly she's just scared of being vulnerable, so when Ghost manages to wrangle her into a situation where all she can do is accept his care (and his dick) he gives her all the treatment she's secretly craved.

omg this is an amazing concept.

simon “ghost” riley x fem!reader

warnings/tags: mdni, smut as fuck, reader is so stubborn it’s insane, ghost is obsessed, unprotected sex, oral (f!receiving), creampie, squirting

Ghost truly doesn’t understand you.

He’s stubborn, but you may be the most stubborn person he’s ever met. The first time he offered to help you was with your gear the first day on base—you snatched it from his hands so fast his head spun, scowling at him and telling him you could handle it just fine. It’s hard to shock Ghost, but you did, and he was intrigued.

Ever since that day, he’s watched you. It’s almost unhealthy the way his eyes gravitate toward you in a room. It’s almost like you won’t accept help from anyone just to piss people off—like you have a point to prove.

Today is no different. His muscles strain under the weight of the dumbbells he’s lifting, his eyes flicking over to you. You’re on your back, lifting a pair of weights, your lips pursed as you concentrate.

Ghost almost smiles when he watches a new recruit waltz over to the bar and try to spot you.

“I can do it myself—I don’t need a spot,” you hiss out, giving the recruit such a poisonous glare he scurries off without another word.

Ghost sighs, setting down his weights and looking down at you. “He was just tryin’ to help.”

“Don’t need help,” you mutter, eyes flicking to him as you set the bar down. “I’m a grown woman.”

“Just ‘cause you’re grown doesn’t mean you can’t choke yourself with the bar.” Ghost scowls at you under his mask.

You roll your eyes, sitting up and wiping your sweaty neck with a towel. “Fuck off. Haven’t ever had a spot before, and I sure as hell don’t need one now.”

“Stubborn,” Ghost mutters under his breath, watching the way your lips press together in a thin line.

You leave quickly after that, and Ghost can’t help but feel slightly annoyed with you. He understands being stubborn—hell, he’s stubborn. But he accepts help when he needs it. He knows his limits. You, on the other hand, have never accepted help. Well, not that he’s seen.

A few days later, the two of you are paired on a mission. It’s a simple objective—infiltrate the warehouse, get the intel. You’re silent as you hold your gun by your side, peeking around a corner. Ghost squats behind you, waiting for the all clear so you could take out the guards.

You nod at him, and the two of you move forward, shooting at the few guards on the warehouse. What you don’t expect are shots fired from the left of you, a bullet grazing your arm. Ghost grips the back of your uniform shirt to pull you behind a stack of crates, quickly shooting the figure and kneeling beside you.

“You okay?” He asks, eyes searching the bleeding scrape the bullet caused.

You stand, glaring at him. “I’m fine. I had it handled, Ghost. Could’ve taken him out myself.”

Annoyance and anger run through Ghost, his eyes narrowing. “I saw you get shot and reacted quicker than you. That’s why I’m the Lieutenant, and you’re not.”

Your nostrils flare, but you say nothing else before you check if it’s clear before heading to the warehouse. You and Ghost are in and out faster than you think is possible, and completely silent on the heli ride back to base. You grip your gun, posture stiff as you sit next to your Lieutenant. Ghost glances at you and sighs, wanting to speak but not wanting to cause a scene in front of the others.

The heli touches down and you leave before Ghost can get a word in edgewise. He watches you go and shakes his head before heading to Price to debrief and give him the intel.

A hot shower is next—something Ghost needs. He strips, taking the mask off and glancing at himself in the mirror. His eyes rake over his scars—jagged, white lines across his skin from torture, blending in with the circular burns from his father’s cigarettes.

Swallowing, he showers, thinking of you the entire time. You infuriate him, but god—does he want you. Yeah, you’re stubborn and you piss him off, but he’s so enamored with you that he can’t help but fantasize about you every waking moment.

He spends the shower trying to avoid touching his hardening cock to the thought of you, instead taking the time to wash every inch of dirt off him before rinsing and getting out. He dresses casually—black sweats, black tank top, black surgical mask. His baclava and mask are too fuckin’ sweaty to put back on.

He tugs on his boots before heading to the mess hall, bumping straight into you. He looks down at you, watching your eyes harden. The bullet wound is still bloody—you haven’t cleaned it.

“Lieutenant,” you stiffly say.

Ghost tilts his head. “You okay? How’s the arm?”

“Fine. Nothing I can’t handle, Lieutenant.”

His eyes narrow, nostrils flaring beneath the surgical mask. “Have I done something to offend you?”

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms in front of you. “Other than save me when I didn’t need saving, yeah.”

Ghost has had enough. He grips your uninjured arm and tugs you inside his room, lips pressed to a thin line. You stumble inside, and he shuts the door behind him, crossing his arms in front of you.

“What the fuck is your issue?” He asks, voice gruff as he glares down at you.

“My problem? I don’t have a fucking problem,” you reply, heart thudding in your chest as you look up at him.

He shakes his head, taking a step closer to you. “You do. You don’t let anyone help you—even if they have good intentions. I took action today to save your life and you’re mad at me for it.”

You say nothing, just look up at him, eyes wary. He looks down at you, eyes flicking to the blood on your arm. “Sit down.”

“I can—”

“That’s an order.”

You huff before sitting down at a chair in front of his desk. He mutters to himself as he digs through his drawers, pulling out an alcohol wipe and a bandage for the wound.

He kneels in front of you, ripping the alcohol wipe open and discarding the trash on his desk. He begins to swipe at your arm, and you wince at the sting.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, eyes flicking up to yours.

“It’s okay,” you mutter back, holding still so he can work. “I’m sorry.”

The words seem incredibly hard for you to say, and surprise flashes in Ghost’s eyes as he tosses the alcohol wipe to the side. He says nothing, just undoing the bandage and wrapping it around your arm.

You clear your throat, inhaling deeply. “I…would rather do everything myself. It’s, uh…sort of like a guard.”

Ghost nods, tying the bandage in place before dropping his hands to his sides. “A guard.”

“Vulnerability scares me.”

His eyes search yours, head tilting to the side as he assesses you. “So that’s why you do everything yourself?”

“It’s not that I want to. I have to. I’m just…scared of opening up to someone.” You bite down on your bottom lip, and twiddle your fingers. “That’s why I don’t get close to people.”

“We’re pretty close right now, don’t ya think?” Ghost asks, smirking at you through the surgical mask.

You roll your eyes, a playful smile on your face. “Shut up.”

He doesn’t miss the way your cheeks heat, and he leans forward, hands resting on either side of the chair. “Don’t you secretly crave for something more?” His voice is deep, gruff.

You squeeze your thighs together, eyes never leaving his. “Maybe.”

Ghost uses his hands to spread your thighs, fitting his body between them. His lips ghost over your neck, mask pulled down, and your breath hitches in your throat.

“Ghost,” you murmur, your fingers squeezing the fabric of his tank top.

“Shut up and let me take care of you,” he grumbles before his lips meet yours.

The kiss is slow and sensual, and a moan slips past your lips as his tongue slides against yours. Your hands move up his chest to his neck, pulling him closer to you, your legs hitched around his waist.

His large hands slip down underneath your shirt, the touch of his fingertips tingling your sides as they travel up.

His lips move to your jaw, skimming down your neck and sucking at the skin. Slowly, his fingertips travel to your covered pussy, rubbing your clit in slow circles through the fabric of your pants.

You gasp, the sound music to Ghost’s ears as he smirks against your neck. Heat flares in your stomach, traveling to your core, and you can’t help but spread your legs, offering yourself to him.

He takes his time, tugging your pants down, taking off your shirt. Removing every article of clothing until you’re bare in front of him. His eyes take you in, his cock already chubbing up in his pants as he admires your naked body.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he grunts, spreading your legs with his large hands. You’re dripping, your pretty slit soaked with your juices and dampening your thighs.

He holds eye contact with you before his tongue flicks out, licking a fat strip up your pussy and sucking your clit into his mouth. He’s slow—taking his time with you. His tongue lazily strokes your clit, flicking and running around it.

You look at him, eyes half-lidded, hand on the back of his head. He groans into your cunt, the taste like heaven on his tongue. Your back arches, moans and whines slipping past your lips as he takes care of you.

You almost don’t notice when his middle and ring fingers tease the entrance of your pussy, and you buck your hips up at the sensation. Ghost laughs softly against your clit, sucking it into his mouth and flicking his tongue against it before his fingers push inside of your pussy.

You’re tight, and he lets out a grunt as he feels your gummy walls try to accommodate his thick fingers. He curls them and feels that little spongy spot that makes your toes curl, and your hips jolt, a lewd moan ripping from your throat.

“That’s it, yeah?” He murmurs, tongue running around your clit. “Feels good, doesn’t it, doll?”

“Yes,” you groan, his fingers beginning to thrust in and out of your tight hole.

Ghost focuses on your clit, picking up speed and licking your clit in fat strides. Your eyes roll back, head tilted back at the pleasure. It won’t take you long to come—it’s been a long time since anyone’s given you this treatment.

You clench around him, and he chuckles against your pussy, fingers working quicker. He isn’t moving them in and out, just thrusting them up and down against your spongy walls.

“Clenchin’ around my fingers so tight, doll,” he says, moving his fingers faster. “Come for me. Give it to me.”

His words push you over the edge and your pussy flutters as you squirt, your release costing his hand and wrist. He lets out a moan, flicking your clit and licking up everything you give him.

“That’s it, good fuckin’ girl.”

You pant, legs trembling as he removes his fingers from your cunt. He works at his own pants, tugging them down and revealing his heavy cock, hard and fat, his balls hanging heavy. He picks you up like you weigh nothing, pushing you against the wall and pushing his cock inside of you.

He gazes into your eyes, groaning as his fat cock stretches you out. Your nails dig into his neck, clenching tightly around him as he buries himself inside you.

“Fuck,” you whine, rolling your hips down so his tip nestles nicely against your cervix.

“Gonna take me so good aren’t you, sweetheart?” Ghost breathes out, beginning to fuck you against the wall.

You can feel every ridge and vein of his cock as he fucks you, your pussy squelching lewdly as one of his hands settles around your throat. You let out a whine in response, his cock brushing against your g-spot and making you see stars.

No one has ever fucked you like this—hard, fast, and attentive. Ghost knows exactly what he’s doing—he’s an expert. A particularly deep thrust steals the breath from your lungs and you let out a moan, clenching around him.

“Fuck, relax, sweetheart. Gonna make me fill this cunt up if you squeeze me like that,” he mutters, gazing into your eyes.

You grin at him, mouth hanging open as he fucks you deep. Your orgasm is already building, an inevitable force from the way he’s taking care of you. You claw at his neck, and he squeezes your throat as he ruts up into you.

“Go on, doll. Come for me. Milk my cock.”

The words make your legs tremble around his hips and your back arches as you come, cunt throbbing tightly around him, juices dripping down his cock onto his heavy balls. His eyes flutter shut and he lets out a long groan, burying his face in your neck as he fucks you harder through your orgasm.

“Want me to fill this pretty cunt up? Hm?” He murmurs, kissing your neck as he fucks you. “Want me to fill you up till it’s dripping down your thighs?”

You moan out a yes, and you feel Ghost’s cock twitch inside of your pussy. He bites down on your shoulder as his hips stutter once, twice—then he’s burying himself inside your pussy, cock throbbing and balls drawing up as he shoots load after load inside of you.

“God, so fuckin’ good,” he pants out, breathing against your neck as he holds you against the wall, cock still buried inside you.

Raising his head, he grins at you. You smile back, eyes searching his.

“Come on, love. Let me clean you up and we can have a cuddle,” he says, gently lowering you to the ground as his cock slips out of you. He has to force himself not to get hard when he sees his seed dripping down your thighs.

“I can—” You start to object.

Ghost tugs you to him. “Shut it. Didn’t you learn anything from what we just did?”

[happy74827]

Say Yes to Heaven

[Logan Howlett x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Sometimes all it takes is one look. One gesture. One word. One action. To remind them that not everyone sees them the same, and It's enough to send a person over the edge.

WC: 3690

Category: Fluff, First Kiss, Logan’s POV

Another Grumpy!Logan x Sunshine!Reader because it’s my comfort trope ✨🫶

『••✎••』

He never realized how much he wanted someone to care for.

It was something he didn't know he desired. A year ago, he didn't care for a single thing. He felt nothing. He was so numb. So empty.

He was an angry man. The kind of man people kept their distance from. Wade ruined that; he aggravated him so much that Logan started actually caring about his life. And for as much as he despised his fugly ass, he was internally grateful for him. He started to open up more and more.

Wade had a part in taking him out of rock bottom, as they say, but you… you aggravated him in the most endearing way possible. You were so bright, so happy, and full of life. Logan couldn't understand how someone could be like that, and he hated you for it. He thought it was so ignorant of you.

"I mean, come on, how could she be that happy all the time? It's fucking dumb. She doesn't even know me!"

That's what he said to Wade, but his roommate only laughed. He found his frustration hilarious and made fun of him constantly.

And don’t even get started on the way you spoke. Never once have you raised your voice at anyone. You always talked softly, and even if you were pissed off, you still found a way to make your words sound gentle.

The man couldn’t wrap his mind around the way you acted, you weren’t a mutant, but you damn well could have been with that forever customer service smile you wore every day.

The level of patience and understanding you held for people was insane to him, especially the amount of patience you held with him.

He was constantly telling you to fuck off, and you took no offense; you just returned that stupidly kind smile and told him that if he needed anything, you were there for him.

You had no clue what he’s done, what he's capable of, and yet you treat him with the utmost respect. And being a mutant, respect, and kindness were two things he hadn’t received in a very long time.

It made him realize things—about himself and others. He started noticing you a little more—the way you looked and the way you acted. It started out as simple confusion and disgust… the typical reactions one would have when one sees an overly happy person.

But it evolved slowly into intrigue and curiosity.

Then something else. Something he couldn't describe.

His first instinct was to push it away. To try and convince himself, he was disgusted. He did this with everything he felt, but he couldn’t keep lying to himself.

It wasn't disgust.

He couldn't name it; he wasn't ready to, but he knew it wasn’t that.

Wade had noticed the change in him, the way he looked at you, the way he started being a little less rough with the words he chose to say. He didn’t bring it up, but the shit-eating grin he gave each time Logan walked in and saw you was more than enough proof that he had picked up on it.

Of course, it only resorted to grins because the one time he opened his mouth, Logan didn’t restrain himself. He popped his claws and had to go couch shopping the next day.

Whoops.

So, with Wade keeping his mouth shut after being chewed out by Blind Al and Logan trying his best to push away the foreign feelings, it finally reached a point where he could no longer ignore them.

He didn’t understand why, of all nights, it had to be this one, but it was.

It was 3 am, and his old nightmares had come back to haunt him. He was restless, sweaty, and couldn't take another second of sleep.

It took a rinsing of the bathroom sink and a pitiful glare at his reflection for you to return his gaze.

He froze for a second.

You were wearing a large T-shirt, with a pair of shorts underneath. Your hair was messy, but it looked so soft, and your face was clear of makeup, leaving the imperfections of your skin that made you all the more beautiful.

Always wearing a smile. Always greeting him with a soft voice, sometimes a little raspy if just waking up, butnonetheless soft.

But once he rubbed his eyes and let out a tired yawn, you weren’t there anymore.

Because you were never there, you lived across the street. You were in your apartment, sleeping, with no idea that, at that moment, the man who constantly told you to fuck off realized he couldn't stop thinking about you.

The same man who would grunt, scoff, and throw away every kind gesture now realized he secretly cherished them.

He stood there for a moment, just pondering his thoughts. His eyes were still on the spot he saw you in.

His head turned to the right, seeing the digital clock that rested on the nightstand.

3:02 am.

You were asleep…. most likely asleep. You would be unhappy if he came over and woke you up, wouldn't you?

He looked back at the sink.

You could be upset, but you could also be happy. You could give him that smile. That sweet, warm smile.

It would be worth it, right? Just for that?

3:04 am

He didn’t think about it. Not even for a second. Ironically, it started raining as if to test him, but the man was determined.

He put on a jacket to cover his bare chest, threw on some random shoes, and was out the door before his mind could stop him.

3:13 am

He knocked on your apartment door. He was completely drenched from the rain. His hair was messy, his jacket sticking to his body, and his shoes were so wet that the squelching sound they made was the only thing audible.

He heard shuffling. Soft steps coming closer. He could smell your scent. It shocked him how easy it was for him to recognize it.

You unlocked the door. Your brows furrowed in confusion.

His mental image of you being in sleepwear, messy hair, no makeup, had been confirmed. You were beautiful.

You had a tired look, one of the many looks he wasn’t used to. But it was still a good look, and it still held your signature kindness.

He had a feeling it would.

You didn't look too shocked, just tired and confused.

You spoke. "Logan, is…? Are you okay?"

Your voice was even softer than usual, the raspiness it held only making it more comforting.

You were genuinely worried about him, and it hit him then that he was being an asshole. Making you wake up in the middle of the night, and for what? Just because he wanted to see you?

Just because of that, he should’ve given you a reason. An explanation.

He should've asked. He should have done so many things differently, but he didn’t.

His head was in the clouds, and all he could think about was you.

You. That was all.

But his expression gave away that he was in a daze, and your worry only grew.

"Logan? What's wrong?"

You stepped out into the hallway and reached a hand to him.

His heart jumped a bit when you did so. It was just a gesture—one simple act of compassion.

He wasn't worthy of that, but he couldn't resist. He didn't want to.

Your fingers barely brushed against his upper arm before he moved. He grabbed your wrist.

His grip wasn't hard. His hold was gentle, as he had no intentions of hurting you. You could’ve easily pulled your arm away if you wanted to, but you didn't.

His eyes locked with yours. He wasn't sure what possessed him, but it felt so right, so he followed his instincts.

He tugged at your wrist, causing your body to fall into him. Your chest pressed against his. His arms wrapped around you, one hand cupping the back of your neck, the other resting on the small of your back.

The embrace was so sudden, and he knew the situation was far from ideal, but his senses were overflowed by your presence, your scent, your softness.

His chin rested atop your head, and his eyes fluttered closed.

It wasn’t the first time he ever hugged someone, but it was the first time he hugged someone in such a way. He held onto you tightly, his grip possessive but not painful.

He was afraid to let go.

He felt your hands press against his chest. You were probably going to push him away, he thought, and he tried to prepare himself. He told himself he would let you go because it was the right thing to do, yet he didn’t need to.

You hugged him back, and he almost lost his footing.

How long had it been since he last received a hug? Since the last time, someone held him and showed him affection?

Too long.

Your hands went inside his opened jacket and held onto him. Your fingers pressed against his skin, and your soft, warm breaths caressed his neck.

He could stay like this for eternity, and he would never grow tired of it.

Your voice reached his ears.

"Logan, did something happen?"

He had been standing there for quite a while. He wasn’t aware of how long. Time seemed to freeze around you, but he didn’t mind. He wasn't one to believe in such nonsense, but when it came to you, he was ready to accept it.

Your hand rested on his arm, and he knew you were subtly prompting him to move, and so he did.

He pulled away from the hug just enough to look at you.

Your lips were turned upwards. The corners of your eyes creased.

"Logan?"

It was then that his actions registered—how utterly close the two of you were, how intimately you were holding each other. He was already warm just from genetics alone, but now he felt everything around him heat up.

"I-"

He didn't know what to say. It was like he was back in that bar, drinking away every thought. He couldn't think. There was nothing. Nothing but the feel of your body against his.

But what truly sealed the deal was when he felt your thumb gently caress his knuckles. It was a small movement, barely noticeable, but it was centered exactly on the scars his claws made.

That little movement made his brain short-circuit. His hands twitched. His grip tightened. He held onto you with his entire body as if scared to let you go.

"What happened?"

You were patient with him. The fact that he hadn’t even answered any of your concerns said enough.

But, eventually, he did find some words to respond with. It wasn’t the answer you were searching for, but it was a response.

"Why are you always being so fucking kind?"

It was such a simple question, and yet the amount of pain it carried was overwhelming. He knew you could hear every word behind it. Every word he couldn't bring himself to say.

He didn’t deserve it. He wasn’t a good man. He did horrible things, and sure… he made an attempt to make up for it. To be better, but it couldn’t have been enough, could it?

You were still here, looking at him with those soft eyes.

Why couldn't you look at him the way he deserved to be looked at? Like he was a monster.

Why did you have to look at him with those goddamn beautiful eyes?

"You deserve kindness, Logan. We all do."

And then, your voice became even softer and a little shaky. Your hands went back to massaging his knuckles. His scars.

"Just because you see yourself a certain way doesn’t mean the rest of us do. I see the good in you. Always have since we first met."

You spoke so softly, yet your words were heavy with emotion.

"I know it's not easy, but try to have a little more faith in yourself."

You didn’t deserve the harsh words he always threw at you. You didn’t deserve any of his anger. You didn't deserve him.

"Why?" He repeated his question, his voice strained, and you didn't miss the way his jaw clenched. "Why should I?"

His arms loosened their hold around you; his hands moved down your sides, and his touch feathered light. He wasn’t sure what he was doing, but he couldn’t quite let go just yet.

You paid it no mind. Only staring back into his eyes with the same kindness he was so used to, the one he had grown to treasure.

"You have a right to feel the way you do, Logan. And I can't claim to understand what you've been through. I can't begin to imagine. But you are a good man. A little rough around the edges, maybe, but you’ve shown me time and time again that you're trying."

A smile crept its way onto your face, and a soft giggle escaped past your lips.

Now, to be fair, he was used to hearing your laughter. With your… odd sense of humor, it wasn’t an uncommon occurrence. But, this would be one of the firsts to add to his collection.

The one reserved for him and him only.

Your laughter wasn’t loud, or annoying, or anything like Wade's. It was soft, sweet, and oh-so pleasant.

You were looking at him. Staring up at him with such love and warmth. You didn't even realize it, but he did.

"Besides, who wouldn't be a little grouchy waking up to that handsome face every morning?"

And, now, he was repulsed by the unwelcome vision of a certain masked man making his way into his head. He was so disgusted by the thought he didn’t bother responding. He didn't want to.

So, instead, he moved.

He had a habit of moving on his own and not thinking about it. It went from his hands going to your sides, and now, his hands reaching out to press against the door behind you.

You were pinned against the door, and the way you looked at him didn’t change. Of course, it didn't. Your eyes were always kind. They always were.

You were leaning against the door. Looking at him, waiting.

And he stared back.

He was so close, and he was tempted to pull away. To take a step back and leave. It would be the best for both of you; at least, he thinks so.

He couldn't give you anything.

He had nothing.

There was only himself. His body. His mind. His past.

His claws, too, if that counted for anything.

But, besides those, there was nothing.

He wasn’t a bad man, but he wasn't good either. Not like you were. He couldn’t possibly begin to match you, not even if he tried.

Which is why he had no intention of trying.

Yet, even as he thought that, his body moved even closer. The dog tags he had never taken off since he was given them hung loosely, dangling in front of your face.

One of your hands was on his chest, the other gripping onto the material of his shirt.

"Logan."

You spoke his name so softly. Almost a whisper, and yet, the sound of it was all his senses were focused on.

Your gaze shifted between his eyes and lips, and the hand that had been holding onto his shirt moved, reaching up to his shoulder.

The touch was light, as if hesitant, and it caused him to lean even closer.

It was so close. You were so close. You had been before, but never like this. Never in the way he wanted.

He wanted you so badly.

And you were right there. Looking at him with those eyes, with a soft, tender smile, and with an expression he didn't recognize.

He knew that was an invitation. You were always an open book, and your body language was no different.

And it wasn't the first time you did so.

There were many times when you looked at him. Your eyes trailing over his face. Your gaze went downwards, lingering before you snapped out of it and looked away.

He always saw it, always knew it was there, but he just chose to ignore it. He wasn’t in the right mind, then. He was just another broken man, struggling to get by, trying his best.

Trying to find some meaning in his life.

But, even now, he was still hesitant. Even after coming all the way here and making his intentions clear, he struggled with it.

"Are you sure?"

Because you were so much better than him.

Because he could still remember the day the two of you met. How much of an asshole he was, how rude, how angry.

It wasn’t until the seventh time you approached him that he realized that he had met someone who genuinely, wholeheartedly cared.

It wasn't until the twentieth time you approached him that he finally accepted it.

He could never forget the way you smiled and spoke to him, even though he had given you no reason to.

"Hi, Logan!"

You would say.

"Good morning!"

You would wave.

"Have a nice day, Logan."

You would nod, even though the man himself chose to ignore you. Goddamn it. You were so much better than him.

Much purer. Much more innocent.

You had a heart of gold, and a soul as white as snow. You were so good, so kind, and the thought of soiling you, of ruining your light with his darkness, it scared him.

It was the sole reason he didn't give in, even now, with you offering yourself to him.

He didn't want to ruin you.

"Yes."

No hesitation. No second thoughts.

Your eyes were so kind. So full of love, and the same emotion reflected back in his own.

But, even with the clear sign of assurance, he still felt the need to create one last line of defense.

With the hand against the door, he peeled it back enough to have your eyes catch sight of the fist it made.

In a millisecond, he unleashed his claws and slammed his fist against the door, the sharp adamantium easily slicing through the wood, causing the door to crack.

And, yet, no reaction. Not a single flinch, not a wince, not even a hitch of breath.

You weren't afraid. Not at all. Even as the claws were mere inches from your face, you weren't scared.

The corners of your mouth twitched. Upwards, and it soon bloomed into a bright smile.

He retracted his claws, and gave you another once-over, just to be sure, and you responded by lifting your hand, grasping the metal chain hanging from his neck.

Your fingers grazed against the cool metal, and your smile softened before turning into a small grin.

"For a man who states he isn’t scared of anything, you sure have a lot of defense mechanisms, Logan."

Teasing. That was a new one for you.

He liked it.

"Say it again." Now, finally, you showed a different expression. Confusion mixed with curiosity. You were wondering what he meant. "My name."

"Logan."

For you, his actions were mere seconds. You had no time to process the feeling of his breath against your lips. The feeling of his stubble tickling your skin. The feeling of his warm, dry lips pressed against yours.

But, for him, it was a slow, steady motion. He took his time. He pulled you closer, his hands moving from the door and cupping the back of your head and your waist.

The kiss was soft. Gentle. Nothing rushed.

He held you like you were fragile. Like you were made of porcelain and could break at any moment. He could, theoretically, but he would rather go through Cassandra’s entire repertoire of torture than hurt you.

He lifted you up. Your legs wrapped around his waist, and your arms around his neck, his own pulling you closer, his fingers digging into your skin.

You tasted exactly how you were. Pure. Sweet.

Like heaven.

He was sure he was leaving that of the bitter alcohol he had downed on your lips, but you didn't seem fussy about it.

Not that he could focus on anything else, anyway.

He was too distracted by the way his tongue danced with yours.

Too focused on the taste of your mouth.

Too distracted by the way your hands made themselves a home in his wet hair. They would tug every once in a while, releasing a groan he hadn’t known was there.

He was too distracted to care.

He was too lost in your scent. Wade always called him that character from that shity vampire movie due to his nose.

He always disagreed until you happened to mention the resemblance. Then, and only then, did he see the logic.

And you saw the logic here, too—the logic of how good you melted together. Experiencing it now made him question his decision to stay away.

If it was always going to be this good, this intoxicating, he should’ve done it a long time ago.

He should've taken the chance.

It would've saved the two of you a lot of frustration, and a lot of headaches.

But it didn't matter. He was here now.

And, as his foot broke into the door, mouth still latched onto yours, with him figuring his way about your apartment, he thought:

It doesn't matter.

As long as I’m here.

As long as you’re in my arms.

It doesn't matter.

Fortunately, that meant he didn’t have to wake up to that toupee-stapled face every morning, as he had so dreadfully imagined.

Unfortunately, it also meant that the next time he saw Wade, he would have to deal with him talking his ears off about what had transpired.

But, for now, he could live with that.

He was more focused on the fact on making sure you weren’t regretting your choice.

Because he sure as fuck didn’t.

[crowcryptid]

Spent about 10 hours in total trying to figure out my coding homework and I think I got it completely wrong because my teacher wasn’t clear about what he wanted us to turn in yay <3

I have been barely holding on in this class but this week completely lost me. YouTube tutorials sort of helped. But I feel like we just skipped 3 weeks of material and no one knows wtf we’re doing anymore. This was supposed to be a beginner class :|

[aajjks]

tw/ hórny èx bf, hè ís à crèèp, nôncôn, èxplïcït ând nsfw thèmès.

It’s hard to break up with someone like him because he doesn’t get the hint- it’s been barely 6 days and he finds himself right in front of your door.

Really horny. And quite frankly messed up.

He bangs on your door- at first he’s gentle, but then he finds himself losing his patience when you don’t open up after a few bangs at your door, even with the bell It’s not working.

He just might have to be a little bit more aggressive with it. See now, he doesn’t like being aggressive with you. He knows that you hate this side of him. That’s why you broke up with him in the first place.

It’s not really a break up to him though because you’re just trying to break and he thinks that this break has lasted way longer than it should have in the first place. So he takes deep breath, and he starts banging at it like a maniac.

“Yn! YN OPEN UP!” But you don’t. You’re really trying to test his patience and then you try to lecture him on his aggressive nature.

His pupils are dilated at this point, he’s feeling so crazy right now, it’s aching and his pants, and he has missed you like crazy-staring at your pictures is not enough anymore. Not at all.

It’s your fault, you know.

It’s your fault that you’re so beautiful and that you have his heart in your hands… he closes his eyes for a moment, and then he takes out the spare keys he had to your apartment-of course, you don’t know about them, but he had a locksmith make them for him.

Without any rational thinking- he unlocks your apartment with ease.

And soon the familiar scent of your home hits him and your ex boyfriend finds himself relaxing, his head feels a little better now. “Yn!~~~” he calls out your name with affection but you still don’t respond.

Weird.

So he decides to check if you’re home. He really hopes that you are because he needs to talk to you and… a lot of other other things.

First to fall of course it’s gonna be your bedroom, his feet, take him to the familiar room so easily, because he remembers every single room in your home, like the back of his hand.

And to his surprise? He hears the shower running. A Cheshire Cat smile spreads across his lips. But before he can think anything else, the shower drops sounds come to a halt.

Oh, so you must be done..

He waits- by sitting on your bed and waiting for you to come out, and he doesn’t have to wait long, so he unzips his pants, creepy? He doesn’t give a fuck.

He needs to fuck you and get you back. He has everything you ever want. Quite frankly, you can be ungrateful. Anyone would kill to be in your place… but too bad he wants you.

And there you are, in all your wet glory-with a towel loosely wrapped around your body, you gasp, expected, in surprised to see him, he smirks.

Your eyes widen and you open your mouth to scream at him, he doesn’t mind you can because he’s missed your voice a lot.

“Hi baby.” He greets you. Licking his lips, because he feels himself getting harder when he stares at your soaked, freshly washed body.

You look so sexy like this I can’t help but remember all the times he would fuck you senselessly in the shower or sometimes when you were done with it.

You’re just so irresistible. You get him so horny for no reason at all. It’s your fault and now you’re going to have to help him out.

“W-WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?” You finally say something to him, even though you’re screaming at him like a maniac, he doesn’t mind.

“I can’t help it baby you know I love you and I can’t live without you-and I’m so horny right now.” He licks his lips again, getting up from your bed to walk towards you.

He needs to touch you right now.

“I told you you couldn’t break up with me but you thought you could.. so I just wanted to give you a little break, but I think it has lasted enough now I need you back.” He groans. You smell so good even his muscles are pulsing.

His eyes are you like a predator and You should know that you cannot escape.

He is way too strong for you.

“Come on now- look at me? I’m so fucking hard because I was thinking about you- and look at you.. fuck…” he breathes out, taking you by your waist.. but then he gets another idea.

So instead of holding you, he drops to his knees.

This is gonna get you so weak for him.

“Let me eat your pussy. Missed it so much.” He looks into your eyes when he grabs your legs. You barely manage to hold onto your towel, which was about to fall. And something switches in your eyes.

You have missed him too.

He smiles. “I bet you missed me too. Fuck- baby let me have a taste please- I’m doing this to make it up to you. I know I pissed you off, so let me make it up.” He breathes, slowly, removing the towel and he starts to tease you by rubbing his hands over to your clit.

You whimper, you’ve always been so weak for him.

He knows you need him-equally as bad as he needs you. And he’s going to make you realize it tonight. He leans his face closer to your cunt, and you grab his wide shoulders for support.

“Oh look at you baby- you’ve already started to get wet.” He coos, pressing a kiss to your thigh, and then his kisses get closer to your heat, “f-fuck. You’re so fucking bad for this.” You moan out. He knows that you’re trying to reject him still even though he knows what your heart and body really want.

Him.

“I know yn.. but fuck- you’re my bad habit.” He replies before he takes one of his fingers out of your pussy and he smashes his mouth into it- his tongue starting to eat you out.

“Nghhh fuck.” You moan as he starts to tease you again with his teeth- he’s so messy right now, all sloppy as he pushes his tongue in deeper and deeper.

That’s how you like it.

His mind is in a frenzy because the noises you’re making are purely sinful- your towel gals to the ground and your back arches.

He won’t let you fall.

He will make you cum in his tongue.

“Ugh fuck..” he groans as he eagerly laps at your juices, you’re giving him so much.

And he knows you’re already going to cum.

“A-Agh fuck don’t stop- don’t fuckin stop.” You command him and grab on his locks- that arouses him anymore- you taste so fuckin good.

He can kill anyone for you.

“O-Oh fuck- baby cum on my tongue- you can do it.” He praises you- his hands on your ass as he squeezes it, you pull on his hair.

His teeth graze your clit.

“Should I fuckin bite? Since you’re so *pants* fuckin mean to me? Nah.. I love you..” he barely manages to speak because you’re suffocating him and you’re going to cum.

“You can *pants* only cum if you come back to *pants* m-me.”

BNHA- hawks, aizawa, bakugo, deku

JJK- gojo, geto, toji, sukuna

[insanechayne]

~ ~ ~

[irndad]

won't you be my sunshine-a.h.

a/n: runner!hotch x sunshine!reader !! sooooo fluffy, first hotch fic of mine so be gentle with me! lots of pining and happy end <3 happy to continue with these two in an au!

Aaron Hotchner is not a particularly emotive man. 

This is a skill he has honed, a cherished quality that was not born of luck or of natural ability, but a skill that he has honed down to a fine tip point. He needs to be, in this job. It’s cost him things, of course, but for the most part, Aaron is happy with his choices. He takes a firm line with people he works with, and does not always let up in his personal life.

The only time this sometimes causes a hitch, is in his romantic life.

Which isn’t to say that he has one. 

There is a woman who reads in the park every morning. Aaron affectionately thinks of this bench as her bench, as it is marked by wisterias and hyacinths on either end of it. It’s something of a ritual, after his runs, that they talk. 

It’s fun. He doesn’t have a lot of space for fun. He’d collapsed on the bench one day after siphoning his anger at a particular case into a difficult run. He’d crashed onto the bench, sweaty and exhausted and hadn’t even seen her there. Which is a bit impressive, as she’s hard to miss the sight of. It is also in equal measure embarrassing. It’s not every day you collapse in front of a gorgeous woman, disturbing her from what is likely a lovely afternoon in the park.

That’s how it started, anyway. She doesn’t run, so each break is punctuated by her company. He’s actually not sure if they’re flirting. He’s not very good at that- the last time he has to he was 17 and so full of unearned confidence, he lucked into a partnership. 

Now, he’s a bit older and a lot more scarred. She’s younger than him, not by much. She laughs with her whole chest at his dry, glib humor- and this is something Aaron had forgotten. The joy of a beautiful, wonderful woman’s company beside you. 

He feels a little out of place next to her. Romance is not something he does. Ever thought he’d do again, really. That’s not to say that this is romance. Their romance is almost entirely hypothetical. He thinks of her at work, which is a monumental development in and of itself. 

“So, how was the paperwork? I know you’ve been taking a little more on since your colleague had a baby. It’s so kind of you to do it.” She asks him on a beautiful August morning. 

He fights off a blush that she remembers what he’s done for JJ. He’s not big on mentioning his own good deeds. Aaron believes that this would cancel it out. Still, her praise is a warm balm to the exhaustion that plagues him. It’s hedonistic, the way he wants her to say more about him. He wonders absentmindedly if she knew everything about him that’s hard to love, she’d still paint him with such a light and warm glance. She’s bright enough, he’s tempted to tell her everything about him just because she asks. 

“It was…alright. My team is excellent. I’m lucky to work with people like them, it makes the process better. I couldn’t ask for more.”

She giggles a little at this, and there’s that roar of affection. 

He feels a sense of ease around her, one that is suspicious for him. He tries not to romanticize, but this connection is hard not to. She’s beautiful- this is obvious to anyone who meets her, a simple truth of her. But Aaron is trained to notice things little factors that show the truth of someone. 

He likes to watch her- it’s a pleasant thing, getting to be in her presence. It’s a little addicting, the way she looks at him. It makes him feel like all of the things he knows to be true of himself- his relative failures, the closed-off nature of his demeanor- are things that not only can be overlooked, but don’t seem to be in her line of sight at all. It’s an honor, to have her doe eyes rake over the sight of him, to meet him with gentle conversation. 

He tries not to notice that she is gorgeous. Aaron has been around beautiful women, of course- this is not something that should surprise him. But there’s something effervescent about her, something that his him wondering if it’s possible that she might feel the same way about him. He knows that he used to be a more attractive man, but now. Well, he’s a bit bruised, both metaphorically and physically. 

It feels odd to even think of this happening. She’s just got a warm, sweet tone and he replays what it’s like when she greets him. She smiles her brilliant grin and sometimes hugs him. It’s embarrassing how much he likes the feeling of it- soft curves against hard muscle and scarred skin. She always smells wonderful, and he wonders how nice it would be to have more of this. 

“I like your new shirt, by the way.” She smiles at him, and his heart jumps. It feels juvenile, but- she’s wearing a new lipstick, it seems. Her beautiful pout looks awfully tempting. 

“I like the lip color,” he tries to compliment back amenably, but that doesn’t stick. Instead, it comes out too earnest. He’s hyper aware of the fact that she’s right by him. She flushes, and Aaron feels a surge of pride. 

“Thank you,” she says, voice softer and flattered, and isn’t that a pretty sound? He’d love to do that for her, make her feel seen, make her feel like she’s as beautiful as she is, “I thought you might like it.”

It’s her directiveness that breaks the seal, he supposes looking back. Because she wore the lipstick for him. That’s just about the only thing it can mean, and he is struck with a particularly sensory fantasy of what it would be like to slot his mouth against hers- he gets the feeling it might be worth it even if he gets the color on his mouth. 

He’s a gentleman, though, he decides after a decidedly ungentlemanly amount of time spend staring at the gorgeous curve of her lips. 

“Would you want to get dinner with me?” He hears himself say it before he’s processed it, and then it’s out into the world. His heart is hammering and he’s blaming on the run, when god, it’s absolutely about how breathtaking she looks, the sunlight reflecting off her hair like a halo. When she beams back at him, she looks particularly angelic. 

It’s then, she leans over and kisses him on the cheek. 

“I thought you’d never ask.”

(Months later, when she is sitting on his kitchen counter and he is standing between her legs, gazing down at her with unabated fondness because he is entitled to that, he reflects on this moment and thinks god, how lucky am I, that I ran past that bench?) 

[cloudcountry]

since you guys liked my idea so much here it is: WAYS THE NRC BOYS WOULD MAKE YOU WORSE

reader's personality is based more off of in-game yuu than anything? this set of hcs is a bunch of hypotheticals basically. this can be read as platonic or romantic idk each guy is written as if they are the closest person to you, friends or otherwise.

IF YOU SEE A TYPO NO YOU DONT

mentally preparing myself for the "i wouldnt do that!!!!!" comments...and post.

Riddle increases your attentiveness to the rules tenfold. No matter how meek you are, he makes your voice strong—and oh boy does it carry. You’re yelling at people for running in the halls, chastising them for not doing their homework, and opening your mouth wider when you speak. For a school full of troublemakers like Night Raven, the entire student body is so disappointed there’s another Riddle.

Trey makes you more passive, less likely to speak up when you see something. He’s always stood back in the shadows, watching over everything without saying a word, and it’s seeped into your personality, too. You’re spineless now. This world is unfamiliar, why should you try to do anything? You’d only stand out. You don’t want to be outstanding. You want to be as normal as possible. So you stand back.

Cater gets you wrapped up in the hype of social media. It started out as a way to indulge his interests but now you’re on Magicam all day, scrolling and scrolling and scrolling. You send things to your friends and say “hey, we should do this” but never make any actual effort to connect with them outside of that. You fall easier into jealousy because you’re surrounded by glamor.

Deuce makes you reckless. He’s so willing to throw himself into things and it spurs you to do the same, no matter how many times your teachers or potential upperclassmen tell you not to. You can’t hear anything but Deuce and his yelling, his enthusiasm and terror for whichever situation you two find yourselves in, knowing that you’d follow him anywhere.

Ace makes you all the more prickly, your sharp jabs and irritating smugness a product of spending too much time with him. You two are two peas in a pod, but to an outsider you two just seem...irritating. You have a talent for getting under people’s skin and have definitely gotten better at lying.

Leona thinks its so cute how you try to defend him at every twist and turn. Like no, he is as dastardly as everyone is saying. Why are you trying to deny it? You’re suddenly seeing reason in the most massive ego-ed people this side of Sage Island and Leona honestly doesn’t know if he should be concerned for you or be amused because of you. (This one in particular was inspired by @loser-jpg LMAO)

Ruggie could have made you prioritize yourself more, but you think he took it a bit too far. See, now you’re snatching cafeteria items and worksheets right under people’s noses, giggling as they demand you give it back. Sometimes they don’t even notice you, but even if they did you’ve learned how to be lighter on your feet.

Jack and you are incredibly uncooperative people (unless you owe someone, of course.) He’s guided you away from asking for help, insisting that the people here will take advantage of you then turning around to say that he doesn’t care, he just doesn't want to get wrapped up in your mess. It’s like you can’t trust anyone but him and your Heartslabyul friends anymore.

Azul has given you one nasty sense of perception, allowing you to key into every little detail and find loopholes in the things people say in a second. He’s turned you into a deadly asset, one he treasures just as much as the student body fears. You read over his contracts and point out what you would do to get out of them, and he adjusts accordingly. What a fine team you two make!

Jade makes it clear that his morals are less than savory, and will often encourage you to partake in things you really shouldn't. You rationalize it as Jade helping you go after the things you want, to finally take and take and take from people when you’ve been so selfless all your life, because it's what you deserve isn’t it?

Floyd will often rope you into his schemes, and it's not wrong before you start doing the same. Once a model student, attending every class, you now skip class and watch with amusement as Floyd threatens another student, hiding your smile behind your hand. They may plead for your assistance, but who are you to stop Floyd? This poor soul clearly owed something.

Kalim instills you with a sense of jealousy and helplessness. He has money to solve all of his problems, his life must be so easy. You’ve lived through so many overblots and received no help from anyone, but Kalim has always been so kind and generous to you. It makes you resent him a little, and anyone else who tries to help, because they all have things that you don’t and that's just not fair.

Jamil twists and bends your mind so much that you can do the very same thing to others. You’ve caught onto his little game and he knows it, eyeing you with anticipation whenever you speak in the same honeyed tone he uses when he wants something. You’ve gotten scarily good at hiding it too, shooting him a smug grin because you know he knows, but nobody else does.

Vil brings out so much confidence in your abilities it’s borderline arrogance. You know you’re capable, so why doesn’t everyone just let you handle this? You can do it, they can’t. So they should just step aside. You’re not doing it to be mean, so why are they getting so annoyed at you? You’re just better.

Rook has some eccentricities, and you’re well aware of them. They put you off at first, but now you’re used to him. It just seems normal now. You’re not sure why everyone makes such a big deal out of his tendencies, that’s just how he is. He’ll stalk you, hunt you down, but he’s having fun! Don’t spoil it for him!

Epel is actually the perfect fit for NRC, you think. He’s a troublemaker, he’s stubborn, and he’s so, so angry. But he’s right! Why should you respect people who claim to be above you? It’s so irritating that they walk around with those annoying smirks on their faces. You two should do something about that, don’t you think?

Idia has a very specific way of talking that can not only be confusing, but can also irritate the hell out of people. Of all things you could pick up from him, you picked up his smug jabs and insults, accompanied by a tooth grin and a laugh. It’s unnerving how much he’s rubbed off on you, a true testament to how close you too are much to the chagrin of the rest of NRC.

Malleus finds so much delight in being your bodyguard, your most trusted companion, that he doesn’t even bat an eye when you use his magic for your own gain. You’ve gotten soft, molding to whatever shape Malleus wants you to be just so he won’t leave. You’re helpless without him, only he has the will and the magic to protect you. So won’t he please stay?

Lilia has a way of dodging the truth, putting a smile on his face even when he’s hurting. It makes you think that, if he can do that, why can’t you? Lilia is smart, he knows how to go about life, so you should follow his lead and bury your problems until they’ll never see the light again.

Sebek has done nothing but berate you for being human since you met him, and even if you’ve gotten closer to him over the course of your stay in Twisted Wonderland, you’re starting to think he’s right. If you had magic, if you weren’t human, you’d be more powerful. It’s a fact. You could do so much more if you weren’t so weak.

Silver has made you complacent. He takes each step carefully, protecting both you and Malleus, so why would you need to protect yourself in any capacity? It’s so nice, having this safety net. If you could, you'd rely on Silver forever, never facing the cruel realities of the world that are blocked by his strong arms.

[rafesweetie]

౨ৎ in which you run into rafe’s arms whenever there’s trouble. not that he minds, of course.

being rafe’s girlfriend meant relying on him for everything. it made him feel wanted, and made you feel safe. so although it went against all your morals as a woman, it just felt right crawling into a cute boy’s muscular arms whenever you needed comfort or help. whether someone made your drink wrong, or a boy was hitting on you, or anything else really, rafe was there to help you out. you’d just grab his hand or pull him aside, and he’d mutter an “i gotcha, kid,” before going to handle it.

he’d assumed you’d be okay going to a friends birthday party. he wasn’t invited, it was a ‘no boys allowed’ kind of party. just gossiping pillow fights and giggles. and these were your friends, if you had any issues you’d sort them out yourself. but, spoiler alert — he was wrong.

rafe was at tannyhill, sitting on the couch on the balcony as he replied to his fathers email about the dumb cross that rafe wanted to sell. it was probably around two hours ago when you left, in your cute dress that he bought you, giving him a big kiss before leaving with a birthday gift in hand. the sun was setting, it wasn’t even that late. so he certainly wasn’t expecting a security alert that the front door was opening, nor your pouty face appearing at the balcony door as you opened it slowly.

your lips were red, matching the unnatural hue on your cheeks. little white lines stained from your eye down to your jaw. your eyelashes were droopy and had little wet drops on them. which leaves him to one conclusion; you were crying.

“..shit,” he mutters under his breath, drawling out the word with parted lips and sighing as you plop yourself down beside him. “what happened, baby?” an arm instantly wraps around your shoulder, pulling you into his side. you instantly cuddle into him, like you always do. right back in your lover’s arms.

“..anna,” you sniffle, voice soft and shaky. “i don’t get it. i don’t get why she’s so nice to everyone except for me. hates me for no reason, rafe, she hates me—“ a quick interruption on his part, quickly shutting you up because you’re not answering the question properly.

he finds it hard to believe that anyone could hate his girl. “what did she do?” he asks, making sure you’re looking him in the eyes so you really understand what he’s asking for. specifics.

“she’s just so rude. said my highlights were way too grown out, said my dress did nothing for my figure and washed out my tan, said that my nail polish was chipping..” you trail off and sniffle. “anything to prove im not perfect, rafe. like duh, i know im not, but she likes to point it out. then she always giggles like it’s just a silly joke,”

“..uh huh,” he hums along. “‘n you know thats not true, right?” he checks, as if it’s obvious.

“well it is true. haven’t gotten my hair done in months, and my nails are chipping, so..”

he sighs. “not that part, kid. c’mon,”

“…that was the only part, rafe,”

“talking about the ‘perfect’ part,” he clarifies. “you know you’re perfect, c’mon, don’t start saying you aren’t,”

“no one’s perfect,” you counter.

“i beg to differ,” he shrugs. “now c’mon, whaddya want me to do about this bitch, huh?” he changes the topic before you argue and he has to assure you more.

“nothing, rafe,”

“nothing?”

“mhm.”

he huffs and leans back on the couch. he knows you. you don’t want him to do nothing about this. “why the hell are you here then, if you don’t want me to do anything?”

“to see my handsome boyfriend ‘n tell him what happened,”

“..right,” he says after a moment. “sure thing, kid. i won’t do anything. whatever you want,” you can tell he’s lying through his teeth.

you smile softly at his agreeable attitude, his voice and touch alone comforting you more than anyone else could. so you cuddle into him more, doe eyes looking out at the sunset overlooking tannyhill, at the american flag waving in the humid wind. you’re perfectly content letting him dry the leftover tears and spending the night with him instead of your little friends.

but you and him both know he’s gonna be making an angry phone call to a certain girl after you leave.

[supercutszns]

a place with you; luke castellan

wc: 2.8k (got a little carried away whoops)

pairing: luke castellan x f! reader

synopsis: luke is used to people coming in and out of hermes’ cabin without a second thought. so when you’re having a hard time adjusting to camp life, he doesn’t expect you to stick by his side, even after you’re claimed.

warnings/notes: shy reader going through a tough time, hurt/comfort, pining, kisses, fluff, potential ooc luke i don’t know what i’m doing, most of this is prob inaccurate lol, i got wayyy too attatched to this i am sorry, title inspired by dragon eyes by adrianne lenker

Luke Castellan is the son of a messenger. He’s used to delivering, passing things along, letting them enter his life and leave him. Sometimes it makes him angry. At his father, at the world, at himself.

So when you passed through the Hermes cabin for the inevitable few weeks before getting claimed by your Godly parent, the last thing Luke expected was for you to stay.

When you first got to camp you were terrified. Luke remembers that much. He can still picture you in Chiron’s towering shadow as he led you up to Hermes cabin. He gave you the usual spiel about the cabin, the land of the unclaimed, but it clearly hadn’t quelled your nerves. You were wringing your fingers together when Luke first spotted you, your eyes blown wide in what he knew as shock and a sort of . . . grief. For a life you’d left for what Luke knows as a life you’d never really have. He’d seen it in so many campers before you. He’d see it many times after.

“This is Luke, Hermes’ head counsellor and one of Camp Half-Blood’s finest,” Chiron pointed him out to you at the entrance. After Chiron introduced you, Luke held your name in his memory. Not because there was anything particularly intriguing about you at first, to be honest, because he’d seen a lot of people like you that needed help settling in (although maybe not many his age). It was harder for some people to adjust than most. He knew that better than anyone.

“Nice to meet you,” he stuck out his hand for you to shake after Chiron left. “I’m Luke.”

You sniffed, shaking it without looking at him. You were so, so embarrassed. This whole time you’d been too stupidly overwhelmed to process anything. Why was this so hard for you? Was it this hard for everyone? “Hi,” you managed, and that was it.

Now, weeks after your first meeting, you’ve concluded that it was not, in fact, this hard for everyone. The camp is crowded but full of life. You’ve never seen more happy kids in your life. There’s a sense of community on the wind.

So why can’t you feel it? Why is it so hard to connect with people? To participate in the fun? Everywhere you look there’s people but it’s all just so . . . lonely. You don’t fit. You’re lost.

Luke wakes up at night when the cabin door creaks open. He’s already tossing, so it’s no surprise he catches it. Unfortunately, he’s supposed to be a good counsellor—sneaking out at night is against the rules, and you’ve gotta reign the strays back in before they cause a ruckus. Sure, Luke’s not exactly a stickler for the law, but the least he owes is to make sure everyone’s safe.

Groaning, he draws himself out of the comfort of his bunk but doesn’t get far when he spots a familiar silhouette slipping out the door. He knows it’s you. He’s been hearing crying at night, and this is confirming his suspicions. It makes him ache in a million different places. Every time he thought about approaching you he shut himself down almost instantly, because who the hell wants some random guy coming up to them in the middle of the night and drawing attention?

This time, though, he’s a little worried.

It’s chilly tonight but not too bad, especially when you’re huddled up in a ball on a hill in front of the lake, grass tickling your ankles. Your tears keep you warm.

It’s a sorrow that feels bottomless. You don’t know what’s gotten into you. You don’t know why everything’s so hard.

There’s a scuffling of shoes, and your name is carried to you on the heels of a breeze. Oh God. There’s someone else here.

You sniff and smear your tears on the palms of your hands the best you can but a little part of you only wants to cry more now that you’re all anxious, and you only have a few seconds to collect yourself before you turn around and see Luke, your cabin leader, with furrowed brows. “Oh, h-hi, Luke.” It’s hard to ignore the splinter in your voice. You curse yourself a thousand times.

“Hey,” he says hesitantly, eyeing you in a way that makes you feel entirely exposed. “You, uh, you know you’re not technically supposed to be out here, right?”

You start to scramble to your feet with an apology on your tongue but surprisingly he laughs, a gentle sound, and beckons you to sit back down. “No, no, I’m not gonna get you in trouble or anything, just . . . letting you know.”

It’s uncertain if you should keep sitting, but you decide to because well, you’re already down here, and things can’t go lower than this. Luke comes to sit next to you and you stare out into the sea like your life depends on it. “Wanna talk about why you’re out here?”

“Wh-what do you mean?”

“I mean,” Luke sighs, scooting a little closer to you. “Most people don’t up and leave in the middle of the night because they’re having a great time.”

The answer is too hard to say so you don’t reply.

Again, Luke sighs, and you try not to look at the shadow the moon casts on his admittedly handsome face. “It’s hard settling in, I know. It happens to a lot of people. I’ve . . . I’ve seen a lot of them, and it doesn’t get any easier.”

“Well it sure seems easier,” you snap, and your self-control flies away before you can stop it. “I have no idea why I can’t just suck it up and fit in here. Everyone seems so happy and it’s driving me nuts because I’m just so confused on why I can’t—why I can’t—process any of it.” Tears burn your eyes. “I’m just miserable. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

In the corner of your view, Luke’s face falls. “I’m your guide, you know that, right? I can help you.”

You sniff, embarrassingly pathetic. “I know.”

He comes even closer. “So why didn’t you ask?”

“Because I—I don’t know, you’re busy all the time with all the people in there, so I’m sure your job’s already stressful as is, so—”

“My job is to help you,” he says, a hand on your shoulder. “That’s what I signed up for. If you need something, I’m the one to ask.”

“I’m not sure you signed up for me crying like a baby,” you swallow, the ripples of the lake blurring together. “I mean, I’m like, older than half the kids here, and they’re all so much better than me. I’m not good at a—anything, and I’ve tried it all, and nobody’s claimed me yet, and I feel so weird and old and alone and . . .” It’s too much to think about so you dig the heels of your palms into your eyes, hoping the sting wards off the thoughts. “What if I’m nothing? Why am I here?”

You’re crying again, hiccuping into your hands. Shame sears into you. Luke’s arm curls around your shoulders and you realize how cold you are when he’s warm, so warm, and you want to cry even harder. You don’t even know him, but it’s the most tenderness you’ve received in what feels like years. “Hey, deep breaths,” he murmurs, rubbing your arm with his other hand. “It’s okay. Look at me.”

It takes a ridiculous amount of strength to heed him. His hand catches your cheek and you can’t bear to pull away. Something strange rustles in your stomach.

Luke’s taught instinct when faced with situations like these is to reassure that the Gods always have a plan. But he doesn’t feel like much of a liar tonight. Both his hands steady your face towards his, your skin damp and cold beneath his thumb. “It's not your fault. It always takes a little bit of time for people to get claimed, it’s never . . . well, you can never tell.”

“What if I don’t get claimed?” You say it so quiet you can pretend it was imaginary.

His eyes crinkle at the sides when he says, “Well, Hermes’ll always have a place for you.”

I’ll, Luke wants to say, I’ll. His father is not responsible for his cabin’s kindness.

“No one really prepares you for how overwhelming this is,” he continues, thumb rubbing the apple of your cheek. Your vision is clearer now, and Gods, he is handsome, isn’t he? Even when his eyes are forlorn. “It’s harder in a way when you’re older. More to leave behind. Less to look forward to. It’s easier when you have a friend. Or a great cabin head.” He tilts his head with a faint smile, “Lucky for you, I’m both.”

It almost makes you laugh, and that’s enough. “It’ll get easier,” he promises softly. “There’s nothing wrong with you.”

Your cheeks burn. It’s hard to keep his gaze, so you blot at your eyes with your hands as Luke gently slides his off your face. “Thank you. Sorry for, um, all that. And the crying.”

He chuckles, “Don’t even worry about it.” You watch him rise in the throes of starlight. He offers you a hand. “Aren’t you cold?” He asks after pulling you up, and you sheepishly nod your head. He tosses you a sweater he’s been wearing, and it smells like firewood. Nostalgic, in a way. “I’m gonna poke around for some tea. Wait for me back at the cabin.”

Before he leaves, he squeezes your arm and that thing happens again in your stomach. “No need to be embarrassed, by the way. You can come to me anytime. I’m probably less busy than I look.” As he walked away, he added, “And don’t worry about the crying. You’re pretty either way.”

Either way. The tea doesn’t seem important anymore because your face is on fire.

Time reveals that Luke is right. He is a great cabin leader and a friend, and it’s hard to tell which he’s better at. You fall in with him right away. Soon enough, you’re drawn into your new life, so slowly you barely realize it’s happening. The days get shorter and you start wishing they were longer. The nights get easier. And when they’re not, Luke tucks you into his bunk and folds you in his arms until you drift off. You pick up a bow. A sword. Luke tells you to straighten your shoulders with a hand on the small of your back, and you swear it always lingers. You braid garlands of carnations for your cabin mates and they wear them with pride. It’s warm, your cheeks hurt from smiling, and things start to feel like home.

Until you’re claimed.

Now you’re a ghost in Hermes cabin, another empty bunk to be filled, and Luke stares at it until he can remember every last detail of what it looked like when it was yours. A beautiful, gentle daughter of Demeter, no longer in arms’ reach. He should’ve seen it coming.

He sees you with your siblings all the time. You’re so happy and he envies it. You belong there, he knows that, the way your face lights up at the dinner table and how you giggle when your half-sister presents you a flower. But sometimes your eyes wander, and something inside them dulls, until you look at him, too.

Luke’s place at camp is to be nothing but a funnel for lost campers to find their home. He’s a temporary stop in everybody’s journey. He’d made peace with it a long time ago. But here you are, messing it all up, because you still don’t leave him.

You beg him to give you another sword-fighting lesson. You sit next to him at bonfires. You pick him for partner camp activities. It doesn’t matter how many younger boys want to latch onto him for guidance—he sees you heading towards him, and he can’t imagine choosing anyone else.

But you’re always whisked away by your siblings, separated at meals and in sleep and in activities so it’s never, ever enough. Why did he delude himself into thinking you’d stay forever?

After weeks of distance from you, he’s elated when you have even a fraction of a conversation. “Hey, Luke!” You call out to him, and he finds you instantly. You’ve broken away from your siblings to get to him.

“Hey,” he smiles, and hopes he doesn’t look too pleased.

You lean a little towards his ear, and you smell like every wonderful thing in the world. “Can we hang out tonight? On the hill?” You’re a little bashful when you say it and it’s entirely endearing. Even now, you’re still so unsure. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too,” he says almost instantly, and it makes you look less nervous. “Yes. Absolutely. But don’t get caught breaking curfew now, you hooligan.”

Someone calls your name and you give a curt, playful nod. “Yes sir, camp counsellor sir!” He carries your laugh close to his heart until night falls.

You’re already there when he arrives, a vision in the moonlight before he even sees your face. “Hey, angel.”

When you turn around you look flustered. He won’t pretend like it doesn’t flatter him. “H—hi, uh, hello.”

There’s a moment where the world is still. The two of you, alone, for the first time in ages.

He sits down next to you, and it’s like the first time all over again. You get to talking, about your days, your anecdotes, your cabins. The strangeness of it all. “It’s so weird waking up in the morning and not having you yapping in my ear,” you remark, and he teasingly pushes your shoulder.

“Well, one of us has to be the talker, and it’s clearly not you,” he retorts.

You fiddle with blades of grass between your fingertips, weaving them together. “I’ll have you know I had a cabin-wide conversation about Capture The Flag yesterday, and I contributed greatly.”

“Oh, really?” He grins, knocking your elbow to steal your attention. “Look at you, coming out of your shell. I’m so proud.”

It’s hard to hold his gaze for more than a second. You’re afraid you’ll do something stupid if he keeps looking at you like that, but you almost want to. “Oh, shut up.”

He puts a hand on your shoulder. “No, I’m serious. I’m proud.” His eyes rake over your face. “You’re flourishing. You found your place.”

You can’t stop yourself from saying, “I kind of miss my old one.”

There’s a way he studies your expression that makes you feel utterly helpless. You wish you could dish it back to him, but you know you just look awestruck whenever you stare at him for so long. He’s quieter when he replies, “I miss it, too. A lot. Sometimes, I—” His face scrunches up like he just tasted something sour. “Nevermind.”

Frowning, you prod, “What? What is it?”

He sighs and turns to the horizon. This is the first time you’ve ever seen him struggle. “Sometimes, I wish you hadn’t been claimed. Sorry, that’s . . . that’s awful, I know.”

His surprise is evident when you say, “Sometimes I wish I wasn’t either.”

He turns back to you. “Really?”

“Really,” you nod, staring at the beads on his necklace. “You’re the only reason I’ve adjusted here at all.”

“Don’t sell yourself short.”

“It’s true. And I miss you.” A few months ago you would’ve kicked yourself for saying this. But Luke has a way of inspiring confidence in people.

“I miss you, too. So much.” He gently prys the grass you’ve been weaving out of your hands, now a small necklace. “But look at how talented you are. I’ll tell you, I’m lucky you’re still sticking around. For most people, Hermes is touch-and-go.”

Luke leans forward to tie the garland around your neck, and your pulse picks up. “This isn’t about Hermes, Luke,” you try to be firm but it comes out soft. “It’s about you.”

His hands stop fiddling and rest on your neck. When he speaks, you can feel his breath on you. And you have no idea that he’s been waiting to hear that his whole life. “What’s about me?”

It’s not fair, your inability to string sentences together only worsens right when a beautiful boy is this close to you. “Hermes isn’t—it’s not special because of your father, it’s special because of you.”

There is nothing else you can possibly think of saying with the way his fingers trace up your neck and hold your jaw. “Yeah, well,” he murmurs, “The only reason anything in my life is special is because of you.”

You don’t know if it’s a lie or not; you don’t care. His nose nudges yours. There’s a moment where you wonder if this is as close to Elysium you’ll ever get. Then he slips a hand to the back of your neck and pulls you to his mouth.

He kisses you in a near fury, then when he knows you’re not going anywhere, it’s the gentlest thing you know. It’s hard to believe this is even happening. Your hands weave through his curls but he holds you steady, and thank the Gods for that because you’re pretty sure you’re melting. You kiss again, and again, and again, until you genuinely think you’re going to pass out and you have to pull away.

“Aw, look at you,” he murmurs when you can’t meet his eyes, a playful lilt in his voice. “Still so nervous.”

“Would you shut up?” You press your face into the crook of his neck with a huge smile.

He kisses the top of your head. “Love to, angel.”

Luke Castellan is the son of a messenger. He’s supposed to believe he’s bringing the best of humanity to the Gods and glory above.

But screw the Gods. He’s keeping this one for himself.