#together they make the brothers of all time

[sturniolosblanket]

texts w/ brothers bsf!matt + drabble

pt. 6

your blood was boiling. your weren’t exactly expecting to be greeted with matt making out with someone else the moment you walk into the party. it was like something in you snapped. you felt used, betrayed, pissed. you knew you and matt could never become something, but your feelings for him were so strong that it swallowed the fact that he’s your brothers best friend. it took you a long time to realize your feelings for matt, but when you came to the realization that you might be in love with him. it scared you more than the man himself.

you searched for matt’s car and himself in the huge line of cars covering the sidewalk. you finally end up spotting matt leaning against the passenger side door looking directly at you.

“what do you want?” you ask rolling your eyes trying to avoid eye contact.

“please don’t give me attitude baby.” he said frowning and tilting his head

“are you gonna cry about it??” you take a step back from him

“no,” he paused “maybe.” he said smiling at you

“are you gonna keep joking around or talk?” you said crossing your arms

“y/n, im so sorry you had to see me with that girl, i promise i don’t want her, she threw herself at me and i stupidly didn’t stop her.” Matt said taking a step toward you.

“good for you?”

“y/n it feels so wrong touching other girls, your literally the only person i want to touch”

“okay.” you responded flatly shrugging

“your a pain in the ass you know that?” he said shaking his head

“your not exactly the delight either, matt.” the silence after you said that was thick. both of you clearly frustrated, but your mind goes back to your messages.

“how do you feel?” you asked straight up

“what?”

“you said i can’t see how you obviously feel. so, how do you feel?” you repeat your question

matt sighs shaking his head moving back to lean against his car. “your my best friends little sister.” he spoke

“so i noticed.”

“Nathan would kill me if he knew I was fucking you, and yet I don’t stop. Why?”

“because your a horny fuck?” you replied chuckling to yourself

“Everyday for the past 4 months I risk losing my best friend to see his little sister.”

“matt stop fucking narrating your daily actions just answer the fucking question god damn.”

“I am obviously in love with you, y/n” he said looking dead in your eyes.

your stomach completely flipped. shocked, happy, excited, nervous. various emotions flowing through your body, searching for a response, but when you couldn’t find words. you and matt stare at each other in silence both still soaking up the words and meaning of his confession. you feel so relieved, relieved he feels the same, relieved you don’t have to hide your feelings from him or yourself anymore.

when you don’t respond to him right away he goes into a state of panic, thinking he needed to explain himself further, and words just start spilling out.

“princess, when i slept with someone else, it was to try and stop my feelings for you because the truth is, i’ve never ever felt this way for anyone else before, ever, and it’s scary as fuck. your the only person i think about, look for, want to talk to, and im just so scared of getting hurt that i hurt you in the process, and im so sorry for that. ill literally do anything or block anyone to gain your trust back.”

your face turns red at his confessions, and you feel your cheeks turning a shade of pink. you feel a rush of happiness flow through you as you jump up into his arms, and all matt can do is sigh in relief and hug you back. you hug him as tightly as you can. you never knew a hug could be so emotion filled, but somehow, it confesses a lot more than your words could.

“i love you too, matt” you said into his chest. “but, nate..” you said looking up at him.

“i know, princess” he said looking down at you “we can always just be together, and just not tell him.” matt said smirking

“that feels so wrong” you said putting your forehead against his chest

“i know, but not being around you feels worse.” matt said, his fingers snaking up into your hair

“can’t we just keep sneaking around and having sex, but not put a label on it?”

“of course we can, but would we eventually end up being together?” he asked

“yes.” you said stepping onto your tippy toes to give him a quick peck, “ of course.” you smiled up at him, “once you prove yourself trustworthy again.”

“yes ma’am.” matt said, his other hand snaking around your waist to pulling you into another kiss.

“i know it’s going to take a lot for you to trust me again, but i promise i’ll make it up to you.” he said after pulling away, looking into your eyes. you can tell he’s being genuine, that he’s not lying. so all you can do is smile at him and pull him into another kiss.

“i told you.” you said pulling away and looking at him with a big smile on your face

“told me what?” he said furrowing his eyebrows

“you went soft on me.” you said grin widening. a smile slowly forms on his face, he shakes his head slightly in disbelief as he presses his lips to yours.

a/n: SURPRISE!! i finished my work and felt a little devious. also yall, this ain’t the end, i want them to get caught by nate at some point so stay tuned reinassss!! comment ‘❄️’ to be added to taglist!🩵

taglist: @matteatmeout @littlefreak-liz @mattsplaything @kayla-hearts4sturniolo @isasflorals @harls-sturn @h3arts4harry @rcklessheavn @chrissysturnzz @rafesapprentice @mattysketchup @imobsessedwithtaylorswift @emely9274 @trvqvoiisee @heartsforsturniolo567 @rafecameronsbitch @annsx03 @slutmattout @trevorsturniolo @h3arts4nat @beersangel @sturniolosluttt @sturnzpro @slutmattout @rainebow333 @bigcoke69420 @nmegamett20 @ivysturnss @quirklessliap @rain-likes-purple @shadowthesim @julisturn @chrissturniolossidebitch @slut4chris888 @edwardscoldhands @freshsturniolo346 @nervoussagittarius @sturniolosfr3shl0v3 @ilovechrissturniolooooo @starstrucktyrantinfluencer @secret-sturniolo @viktorssugardaddy @ikyoudreamofme @not-sinai @alyssa-sturn @ribread03 @bellassturniolo @bambisribbon @mrs-riddlexo

dividers by: @bernardsbendystraws

[heartsforjh]

CONGRATS ON 100 KIRBS <333 TO MANY MORE!

For your celly, can I request Luke and physical touch: “I thought you hated it when people touched you?” with reader on the receiving end (as in she's the one who isn't a fan of being touched)??

Thank you and good luck with your celly!!

THANK YOU! 🫶 now, 26 times. 26 times i fully listened to justin timberlake on repeat to produce this for you meg. also, while writing the part where reader couldn’t stay awake i actually fell asleep… 😭 anyways, i hope you enjoy. 🙏

You had met Luke at Umich not too long ago. Despite being quiet and unassuming around most people, he was rowdy and playful with your friend group, always bringing an easy energy to the room. He was funny, considerate, and far more polite than the average guy you’d met at your new university.

Today your friend group decided on hanging out in one of the larger dorms, so that there’s more room for everyone to actually fit. Luke, as usual, is roughhousing with his friends, their laughter echoing through the room. In the middle of their chaos, Luke accidentally bumps into you, nearly knocking you off balance.

“Oh, shit, my bad! I’m sorry Y/n,” he blurts, steadying you with wide, apologetic eyes.

“Lukey always finding excuses to touch his girlfriend.” Dylan teases, his grin wide and knowing.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Luke shoots back instantly, looking a little flustered, his tone shifts into something firmer. “Don’t be weird like that. It’s not funny to make her uncomfortable.”

Turning back to you, his expression softens into a sheepish smile. “I really am sorry, Y/n. I’ll be more careful.”

You nod, offering a polite smile. “It’s okay.” You can tell he feels bad, but before you can say anything else, his friends pulled him back into their conversation. You stay quiet, still too shy to fully insert yourself, being new to this circle of people.

Later that day, the group bundles up for the cold weather and heads to the UMich football game. As everyone files into the bleachers, Luke maneuvers himself to stand next to you. It was hard not to notice, and you could easily hear Dylan snickering.

Luke rolls his eyes but doesn’t budge, determined to put himself out there. After a moment, he glances at you, his face softening when he notices your rosy cheeks from the cold.

“So, uh… is this your first football game? I mean, UMich game?” He stumbles, trying to get his question out without looking stupid, “You’ve probably been to other football games before, but… yeah, first here?”

You can’t help but smile at how nervous he seems. “Yeah. This is my first.”

His face lights up at your response. “Cool! You’ll like it! These games are a lot of fun.”

You tuck your hands deeper into your jacket pockets, shivering slightly. “I hope so. It’s freezing out here.”

Luke chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, Michigan weather can be brutal. You’ll get used to it, though! I grew up here… well, partly in Canada too. Oh, but I was born in New Hampshire. Not that it matters…” He trails off, fully aware that he’s rambling but powering through anyway. “What I’m saying is, I’m used to the cold. And don’t worry, these games are always worth it. My brothers and I go all the time. Actually, we’ve got a lake house we visit in the summer together too—maybe you could come with sometime!” He slows down, hoping he’s not coming off too strong. “You know, if you’re around.”

You listen patiently, letting him overshare whatever his heart desires, “I’ll probably go home over the summer since it’s my first year here, but I bet I could find time to visit for a bit somewhere in there.”

“Really? Yeah… yeah, that’d be cool,” he says, his smile growing. He glances down and realizes exactly how close he’d moved towards you while talking.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he says, quickly shuffling back.

You don’t mind the closeness, but you weren’t gonna make it more awkward by telling him so. The two of you continued chatting, the conversation flowing naturally until the game ends and everyone decides to head back to their dorms.

A few days later, the group gathers at Luke’s place for a movie. You’re curled up in a beanbag, with Luke sitting next to you on the floor, his head resting against your seat. The movie drags on, and you find yourself nodding off.

However, your eyes quickly snap open when you feel a tap on your shoulder.

“Hey, do you want to help me make popcorn for everyone?” Luke asks softly. You nod, grateful for something to keep you awake. He stands and offers you his large hand, which you take without hesitation.

As he leads you into the kitchen, he glances back and notices you rubbing your eyes.

He laughs quietly. “Tired?”

You nod, stifling a yawn. He realizes he’s still holding your hand and quickly lets go, scratching the back of his neck. “Uh, sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you say, leaning against the counter as he grabs the popcorn supplies.

“You know, if you’re that tired, you can just crash in my room after this,” he offers casually, glancing at you.

Your eyes widen slightly. “Oh! No, you don’t have to do that.”

“I want to,” he insists, his tone genuine. “Those beanbags suck to sleep on. Trust me, I know—my brothers used to make me sleep on them when we were kids.”

You laugh softly. “Why?”

“Well I was the youngest, and sometimes I didn’t want to sleep in my own room at night…” He trails off, suddenly regretting his honesty.

“You were scared of the dark?” you tease, smile somehow looking even more amused than before.

“Monsters, actually,” he corrects, with mock indignation.

Your laughter bubbles out, the sound light and free. It’s the most you’ve laughed since coming to UMich, and Luke was beaming with pride at the sight of it.

When the popcorn is ready the two of you head back into the living room. The group eagerly grabs at the fresh bowl as you settle back into your beanbag. Unsurprisingly, not even two minutes pass before your eyes start drooping again.

A soft laugh from Luke is the last thing you register before you feel yourself being lifted. You instinctively tuck your head into the crook of his neck, his warmth lulling you further into sleep. He carries you upstairs with ease and gently lays you on his bed, carefully tucking the covers around you.

“Just get some sleep,” he murmurs quietly, mostly to himself.

As he turns to leave, you reach out and catch his hand. Your voice is soft, barely above a whisper. “Please stay,” you whisper. “You can lay with me.”

“Uh… are you sure? I can sleep on the beanbag. It’s not a big deal.” he says, hesitantly,

You frown, words laced with tired honesty. “I thought you hated sleeping on the bean bags?”

“I thought you hated when people touch you?” he counters softly, eyes searching yours.

“I do,” you admit. “But it’s okay when it’s you.”

His lips curve into a small, shy smile as he climbs into bed beside you. You waste no time cuddling into him, your head resting on his chest. One of his hands caresses your hair tenderly, while the other settles lightly on your lower back.

The two of you know this isn’t something “just friends” would do, but neither of you seem to mind. You were content with that in the moment. As you drift off to sleep, wrapped in his comforting presence, you decide the feelings you’re starting to acknowledge can wait until tomorrow.

tags: @beenucks @mainly-miracle @lukey-pookie-hughes43 @sweetestdesire @emsdevs @puckmedude @joesnumerouno @alex-wotton

join the taglist here! :)

[flwrkid14]

So is I alright if I ask this?

I've seen the post where everyone wants to be Tim's favorite, might I ask if you could combine it with the 'Tim will never be anyone's favorite' and the brain dead post spin off? I think it'd be super angst angsty if the bats realize tehy unitentionally screwed up with Tim.

Oh, this is such a good ask! and now I’m going to be feral about it, thank you. Combining all of those ideas? Buckle up because this is going to get angsty.

—

Tim Drake will never be anyone’s favorite.

He’s always known it, accepted it as fact, because it’s not just about how he’s never felt like anyone’s favorite—it’s about how he’s been conditioned to believe that no one could favor him. He spent so much of his life trying to make himself useful to the people around him, because if he couldn’t be loved, he could at least be needed. If they needed him, they’d have to keep him around, right?

So that’s what Tim became. The utility knife of the Batfamily. The glue, the fixer, the one who knew how to put everything back together even if no one ever thought to ask how he was holding up.

And if that meant sacrificing pieces of himself, so what? He was never anyone’s favorite. He had no illusion that anyone would fight for him, that he’d be prioritized. The mission came first. Gotham came first. Family was a distant second, if it ranked at all.

Then there’s Danny.

Danny doesn’t come in with the expectations or baggage the rest of the Bats have. Danny doesn’t know Tim as a placeholder Robin or a second chance or a stolen birthright. He knows Tim as Tim—sharp, exhausted, himself. And Danny thinks that’s amazing.

He says it, too, without hesitation. “You’re my favorite,” he says like it’s a fact. Like Tim has always been the first name on someone’s list.

And it’s such a foreign concept to Tim that his first reaction is suspicion. He doesn’t trust it—can’t trust it—because when has anyone ever favored him? Even when Danny shows time and again that he’s not going anywhere, that his affection for Tim is unconditional, Tim’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. For Danny to grow tired of him, to leave, to regret his words.

But Danny doesn’t. He stays.

And that’s where it all starts to unravel for the rest of the family.

They see it—the way Danny looks at Tim like he’s the most important person in the room. The way Tim slowly starts to relax around him, shedding the defensive, brittle edges he’s always carried with them. The way Danny makes it obvious—painfully obvious—that Tim is his favorite person.

It's then that it hits them.

None of them have ever made Tim feel that way.

They start noticing the cracks they’ve left in him, the ones they never saw because they were too busy leaning on Tim to hold them together. They think back to all the times Tim had been the one to put in the effort to maintain their relationships, the way he always came through for them when they needed him, but how little they ever did for him in return.

They see the way he hesitates when Danny shows him affection—how it catches Tim off guard every time, like he’s still waiting for it to be a trap. And the Bats realize they’ve conditioned Tim to expect exactly that.

It guts them.

Cass had always known, in the quiet way she read people, that Tim didn’t feel like he belonged. She saw it in the way he held himself—guarded, distant, bracing for rejection. She’d tried, in her small, subtle ways, to show him he mattered, but watching Danny with him now, she realized she hadn’t done enough, that there was so much more she could have done for him not to feel that way. She hadn’t known how deep the hurt ran, and the guilt settled heavy in her chest.

Danny... Danny treated him differently.

Dick, who always tried to be a good brother but never saw the way Tim’s shoulders tensed under the weight of being “good enough.” Jason, who hated him for wearing the Robin colors but never noticed how much Tim blamed himself for taking them in the first place. Bruce, who thought giving Tim responsibility was enough to show he cared, but never thought to give him unconditional support. Damian, who fought Tim at every turn but never realized how much Tim already hated himself for existing in a role Damian felt should have been his.

Even Steph, and Duke—all of them thought Tim was fine because Tim made himself fine. Because Tim was the one who fixed things, and none of them stopped to ask what he needed.

It becomes almost unbearable for them to watch Danny care for Tim, because Danny makes it look so easy. He loves Tim so openly, so obviously, that it highlights every way the family failed to do the same.

And Tim? Tim doesn’t even seem to know he deserves it.

It’s the wake-up call they all desperately needed but never wanted. They don’t know how to fix it. But watching Danny and Tim together, seeing the way Tim is finally beginning to believe he’s worthy of being loved, they know one thing for certain:

They can’t undo the past.

But maybe, if they try hard enough, they can make sure Tim never feels that way again.

[luvismenu]

> motive — pt.5 ,, index ! nsfw

. . brother's bestfriend!jungkook au . .

wc: 4.6k+

warnings: banter, teasing, lots of cursing ofc, kissing, some oral (fem recieving), fingering, clit play, he's kinda aggresive, jungkook being a dick in the end, cliffhanger-ish?

jeon jungkook is so fucking stubborn.

once he sets his mind on something, there’s no going back. if he thinks something might hurt someone, he won’t ever risk it. he doesn’t change his mind, doesn’t budge, doesn’t care how annoying it is. he’ll stick to his decision no matter what.

it’s a stupid habit, but he’s always been like this. and honestly, you’re starting to think he always will be.

you’ve known that ever since the bike incident from when you were kids. it was your brother’s bicycle. you really liked it, and you wanted to ride it secretly because you knew jimin wouldn't let you. you begged jungkook to let you, but he refused. your brother had told him, very seriously, that it would break his heart if you fell and got hurt. and, of course, jungkook listened. he took your brother’s words like gospel and never let you touch the bike.

it didn’t matter that you cried about it. even though he looked a little guilty seeing you bawling your eyes out, he still wouldn’t budge. your brother’s feelings came first, even if you were sitting there heartbroken.

and that was when you were four, and they were nine

jungkook never told you why he didn't let you touch your brother's bike either. you only know about this because jimin told you when you grew up. which really pissed you off.

maybe it’s a silly thing to still think about, but it’s just so annoying that he hasn’t changed. he’s always been like this— choosing what’s “right” even if it makes you mad.

sure, he’s not your best friend, but that doesn’t mean you both didn’t grow up together. you were always there, tagging along, watching him and jimin get into all kinds of trouble. and your brother always found ways to keep you quiet, too.

“jungkook, let's carry her on the way home.”

“jungkook, give her your candy so she won’t tell mom and dad.”

and it worked.

every time.

it was fun, you won’t lie. making them beg you not to rat them out, holding it over their heads. oh, it was so fucking fun.

it’s still almost the same, you know all your brother’s secrets, and by extension, jungkook’s. growing up with them, you picked up more than they ever wanted you to. and, well, why wouldn’t you use that information to your advantage? sometimes for fun, sometimes to get what you want.

and what did mufasa say? it’s the mother fucking circle of life.

“saw that you were with taehyung a few days ago,” jimin says casually as he pulls on his jacket.

you’re stretched out on the couch, scrolling through your phone. you’ve been debating whether or not to text jungkook, but you don’t want to look desperate. still, your fingers keep itching to type something.

your brothers words make you pause, but you don’t look up. instead, you respond simply, “yeah.”

“why?” he asks, his voice closer now. you glance up to find him standing right behind you, staring down.

you shrug, keeping your eyes glued to your phone. “just because.”

and then, without warning, he snatches the phone from your hands, holding it high above his head. you gasp, jumping up immediately.

“oh, you son of a—”

“careful,” he interrupts with a smug grin, “we share the same mother.”

you glare, crossing your arms. “give me my phone back.”

“answer me properly,” he counters. “do you like taehyung?”

your face scrunches in immediate disgust. “no! he just wanted to meet up and talk. you know, because he helped me with my projects back in middle school, and we were kinda like friends.” you emphasize the words as you uncross your arms, as if reminding him.

jimin sighs and finally lowers your phone, which you snatch back with lightning speed.

“okay,” he relents, “just don’t get too close to him.”

“why?” you deadpan, raising a brow. “because he’s a model too, and you’ve got some secret rivalry with him?”

“because he hurt my best friend,” jimin snaps, his tone sharp, “and i don’t want to think about it.”

you shut your mouth, his words leaving no room for argument. the silence between you grows thick for a moment.

then, finally, you speak up. “whatever. i’m going to watch a movie. don’t disturb me.”

“i won’t, cuz i’m going out,” jimin says, grabbing his car keys from the table.

“with?” you ask, eyeing him suspiciously.

“your mo— wait, shit, we have the same mom,” he mutters, catching himself, and you scrunch your nose in disgust but can’t help the small smile that slips out.

“your crazy model friends?” you fold your arms again,tilting your head.

“yes, my crazy, stupid, but rich model friends,” he grins smugly, “just like me.”

you roll your eyes and turn around, flopping back onto the couch dramatically.

“oh, and jungkook’s coming over,” he says as he heads for the door.

your ears perk up immediately, and you shoot up, blurting, “why?”

“it’s the weekend. he’s gonna sleep over,” jimin replies casually, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. and to be fair, it kind of is— jungkook crashing at your place is pretty routine. but the thing is, he’s always here for jimin, not you. all you and jungkook do is bicker whenever he’s around.

“but you’re going out,” you frown, watching him open the door.

“bro, this is my house, i’m coming back of course. don’t worry,” he says, rolling his eyes like you’re being ridiculous.

“but i don’t—”

“shush,” he cuts you off, stepping outside. “i am gonna be late because of you. take care of the house and don’t fight with jungkook.”

before you can argue back, he’s out the door, slamming it shut behind him.

you stare at the door for a moment, then slump back onto the couch, muttering to yourself.

“yeah, like that’s fucking possible.”

it doesn’t take long for jungkook to show up. the front door swings open casually, and he walks in like he owns the place, not even sparing you a glance. he heads straight for the kitchen, opening the fridge and grabbing a bottle of water, chugging it down like he just ran a marathon.

must’ve worked out.

you hear his footsteps as he walks into the living room, where you’re sprawled out on the couch, pretending to ignore him. well, pretending to mind your own business, at least.

your eyes flick to him briefly, and yep, there he is— in those stupidly attractive gray sweatpants and a black compression shirt that clings a little too well to his body. if you look at him for too long, you’re pretty sure you’ll do something you’ll regret.

nope. not worth it. you’re supposed to be mad at him.

what is annoying, though, is how quiet he has been ever since that conversation with him a few days ago. jungkook isn’t supposed to be quiet around you. if anyone gets to ignore anyone here, it’s you.

selfish? maybe. but it’s just you and him.

it is what it is.

“get up,” he says, standing right beside the couch where your legs are sprawled out. “i need to sit.”

you glance at him briefly and then smile. “there’s plenty of space,” you say, your voice sickly sweet. “outside. in the garbage bin.” your smile drops as you finish the sentence, and his frown deepens, his brows pulling together in a way that— unfortunately, makes him look even better.

even hotter.

“i wanna watch the movie too,” he says, ignoring your jab.

“too fucking bad,” you retort, keeping your eyes on the tv.

the notebook plays on the screen, and for a second, you think of how much you and jimin love this movie and how you all used to watch this movie when you were younger (but old enough to watch it). jungkook always sat through it with the two of you, even though you know it’s not his thing.

“i just came back from the gym,” he starts, his voice edged with frustration. “i could use some rest.”

“go to the other room, then. use the bed to res— hey!”

you’re cut off mid-sentence as he grabs your legs, effortlessly lifting them up. before you can protest, he flips them off the couch, forcing you to sit up as he plops himself down beside you.

he leans back, completely unfazed, and looks at the screen. “thanks,” he says smugly.

“fuck face,” you mutter under your breath, glaring at him.

your hands itch to smack the smirk off his face, but you just huff and turn back to the movie, crossing your arms in annoyance.

you grab your phone, your fingers moving quickly as you text yumi because you genuinely have no idea what to do or say right now.

you: how can this mfker sit here and act like nothing happened!?

yumi <3: he's at yours!?!?

you: yeah, sleepover

yumi <3: where's ur bro

you: out

yumi <3: so u're alone tg 😈

you: help me bae. he's acting like i didn't literally say that i fucking want him?? what do i do

yumi <3: what u always do babe ,, provoke him.

you glance over at jungkook, still seated on the couch, his eyes glued to the screen. his jaw is clenched slightly, and your gaze trails down his arm, taking in his tattoos, the way his biceps flex subtly as he rests his hand on his thigh. and that’s when an idea hits you.

without a word, you get up and walk to your room. you don’t notice it, but his eyes flick to you as you leave. his gaze lingers for a second, curious, but he quickly forces himself to look back at the screen.

in your room, you swap your pants for a pair of shorts— really short shorts. short enough to reveal your thigh tattoo.

you glance at yourself in the mirror and adjust them slightly, smirking to yourself.

with newfound confidence, you stride back into the living room. jungkook is still on the couch, his attention glued to the movie. he doesn’t even glance your way when you enter— typical.

you catch sight of the clutter on the glass table in front of him: bowls and empty cups.

perfect.

you move around the couch approach the table from the other side so he can see the tattoo and start tidying up, picking up the bowls one by one, moving slowly, purposefully. you stretch your leg just slightly as you reach for the furthest one, your thigh tattoo now fully visible.

jungkook notices. and oh, you can tell by the quick flick of his eyes, the way his jaw tightens for just a second. but he doesn’t say a word, keeping his gaze locked on the screen like it’s the most fascinating thing in the world.

you hold back a frustrated sigh, heading to the kitchen to put the bowls away. when you return, he’s still pretending not to notice you, still sitting there as if nothing’s changed.

so fucking stubborn. for what, though?

you stop and take a deep breath, deciding to try again. this time, you walk directly in front of the tv, deliberately blocking his view as you pretend to move things around the room.

he frowns almost immediately. “move out of the fucking way,” he says, voice sharp and annoyed.

“can’t,” you say, keeping your tone light and casual. “i’m busy doing something.”

you cross the room again, back and forth, shifting random items like it’s the most important task right now.

“do it later,” he snaps, the irritation growing in his voice. “i’m watching this,, aren’t i?”

you scoff, turning on your heel to face him. “so fucking what? you’ve seen this movie like, a hundred times!”

he stares up at you, still frowning. “what the fuck do you want?” his tone is calm, too calm, but there’s an edge to it that makes your stomach flip.

you cross your arms, glaring at him. “you know what i want.”

he raises an eyebrow, his jaw clenching as he leans back into the couch. “do i?”

“yes,” you snap as you glare down at him. “don't act stupid, jungkook. you know exactly what the fuck i want.”

he exhales sharply through his nose, running a hand through his dark hair. “i don't know what the fuck you're talking about so just fucking say it.”

you scoff, your brows furrowing deeper. “i did say it. you’re the one pretending like it didn’t happen, like i didn’t tell you—”

“because you don’t mean it,” he cuts you off, his voice low but steady.

you take a step back, stunned for a moment. “what?”

he leans forward now, resting his palms on his knees, his gaze boring into yours. “you’re just doing this to fuck with me, to get a reaction. and congrats, you fucking got one. are you happy now?”

your throat tightens, but you refuse to let him see how much his words sting. “you think i didn’t mean it?”

he doesn’t answer immediately, just stares at you, like he’s trying to read your mind.

“if i didn’t mean it,” you say, your voice softer now, “then why would i keep doing this? why the fuck would i care?”

“because you like attention, don't you?” he shoots back, his words sharper than you expected. “taehyung, me, whoever gives it to you.”

your jaw drops, anger and disbelief flooding you. “you’re such a fuckin—”

“don’t,” he cuts you off again, standing up now, towering over you. “don’t act like i’m the bad guy here. you’re the one who started this.”

you stare up at him, your chest rising and falling as frustration bubbles over. but you recover quickly, masking the storm inside you with a smirk. tilting your head slightly, you ask, “started what exactly?” your tone is light, almost mocking, daring him to say it out loud.

jungkook’s jaw tightens, his gaze locked on yours. he doesn’t back down, but he doesn’t answer immediately either, like he’s weighing his next move. you can see it— the slight flare of his nostrils, the clench of his fists at his sides.

“don’t play with me, ___.” he finally says, his voice low and rough.

your smirk widens, pushing him further. “am i really? becuz all i see is you getting worked up over nothing.”

“nothing?” he scoffs, stepping closer, closing the already minimal distance between you. “you’ve been pushing me, fucking testing me? what the fuck is that about?”

you hold your ground, refusing to back away. “and? what are you gonna do about it, jungkook? keep avoiding it like you always do?”

he lets out a bitter laugh, running a hand through his hair. “avoiding it? you’re fucking crazy. you think this is easy for me?”

“what’s not easy?” you press more, losing patience, your voice softening slightly. “tell me, jeon jungkook. what’s so hard for you?”

his eyes darken, his emotions clear on his face. “stop, ___.” he pauses. “stop pushing me before i—” he cuts himself off, shaking his head like he’s trying to regain control.

you feel your breath catch at his words, your heart pounding, but you don’t let it show. instead, you tilt your chin up, whispering, “no.. you need to stop fighting it, jungkook.” you lean in closer, your eyes never leaving his. “it's just you and me right now.”

for a moment, neither of you moves. the tension between you is palpable, electric, like something is about to snap. and this time, you’re not sure if you want to continue pushing him.

“shut the fuck up,” jungkook leans down, his breathe getting heavier

you smirk a little, whispering back, “fucking make me.”

and then suddenly he’s holding your jaw in his big, tattooed palm, his lips sear against yours kissing you with passion that you’ve always wanted to feel.

jungkook's hand tightens around your jaw as he deepens the kiss, his tongue sweeping into your mouth with a desperate hunger. you moan into his mouth as he pulls you against his body, his other hand wrapping around your waist.

breaking away for a ragged gasp, jungkook lifts you effortlessly into his arms, kissing you again. you wrap your arms around his neck, your fingers tangling in his hair. he puts you down gently on the couch where he'd been sitting moments before. though there's nothing gentle about the way his hands roam over your curves, hiking your shirt up a little.

jungkook pulls back just enough to glare down at you, his breaths ragged, his jaw clenched. his dark eyes bore into yours.

"i hate you," he grits out. his hand grips your thigh, sliding up to press firmly against your skin, sending shivers through your body.

your lips curl into a smirk, your breath hitching as his grip tightens. “do you?” you whisper, your voice teasing, daring him to keep going.

his fingers dig into your thigh, his gaze flickering to your lips before meeting your eyes again. “yeah, cuz you're so fucking annoying. i hate you so fucking much,” he mutters, leaning down to press his lips against your neck, kissing and biting on your sensitive skin.

a soft moan escapes you, your hands gripping the fabric of his shirt as you arch into him. “yeah?” you breathe out, your smirk deepening. “i like knowing i get to you.”

his eyes snap to yours, his jaw tightening as he pulls your shorts down in one swift motion, revealing him your bare pussy. “so fucking bratty,” he mutters.

your breath hitches, your chest rising and falling as his fingers trace over the tattoo etched into your thigh, the one he gave you, the one that still turns him on whenever he thinks about how you teased him during the session.

you and your fucking mouth. he thinks.

his lips hover over your skin, his gaze fixed on the inked design before he lowers his head. his soft lips press against your hip, right where the tattoo starts.

his voice is quieter now, softer as he looks up at you. “does it still hurt?”

“so much,” you whisper, your voice shaky, but it’s clear your meaning has nothing to do with pain.

a smirk tugs at his lips, his eyes dark with intent as he begins kissing along the tattoo, lower and lower. each press of his lips sends a shiver through your body.

his hands grip your thighs firmly, holding you in place as his mouth continues its path, exploring every inch of your skin, lingering on the spots that make you squirm, but not touching the place you desparately need him to.

“you’re so quiet now, ___,” he murmurs against your thigh, his lips brushing over your skin. “what happened to that smart mouth of yours?”

you bite your lip, trying to hold back a sound. “fuck off,” you breathe out, your words make his smirk grow wider.

his hands grip your thighs, holding you open as his head moves fully between them. his eyes lock onto your bare pussy, and he curses under his breath.

he leans in, his tongue sliding in a long, slow stride over your folds, making your eyes flutter shut. a soft, needy moan escapes your lips, your body already trembling like you’ve been waiting for this moment forever.

because, well, you have.

his tongue moves through your folds with such a delicious rhythm, licking every inch of you. your breathing grows heavier with each stroke, his mouth exploring you like he’s memorizing every reaction.

when his tongue finds your clit, he flicks it expertly, a few quick strokes before sucking on it. the sensation sends a jolt of pleasure through you, your mind spiraling into a haze.

“fuck,” you whisper, barely able to form words as his mouth works wonders on you.

he doesn’t stop. his tongue continues to explore you, his lips wrapping around your clit again while his hand comes up to join the mix. two fingers slide over your slick folds before finding your clit, rubbing it in perfect rhythm with his tongue. when his mouth moves lower, licking at your entrance, your thighs quiver, and a sharp moan slips past your lips.

“this what you wanted?” he rasps, his voice rough as he glances up at you, his fingers still circling your clit. your back arches instinctively, your body responding to his touch, and you squirm under him, unable to keep still.

when you don’t answer fast enough, his hand lifts slightly before coming down with a sharp slap to your pussy. the sting makes you whimper, your eyes shooting open as he smirks.

“what’s wrong?” he taunts, his fingers rubbing over your folds soothingly. “for someone who bitches about everything, you're so fucking quiet now.”

he presses two fingers against your entrance, teasing you, his movements deliberate as your body tenses.

“wanna cum on my fingers?” he asks, his tone low, his thumb still rubbing lazy circles on your clit.

“y-yes,” you stammer, your voice shaky but desperate. “fuck yes, wanna cum on your fingers,” you moan, your body arching when you feel his fingers slide in.

“shit, look at you,” he groans, his voice rough as his fingers curl inside you, hitting the perfect spot. “dripping so good for me,”

your moan spills out involuntarily, his name falling from your lips like a prayer. your hand reaches out instinctively, gripping his that’s still holding your thigh, your touch shaky but needy.

his fingers pump in and out of you, his thumb pressing against your clit in perfect rhythm. the wet sounds of your pussy, with your breathless moans, echo in the room mixed with the movie still playing in the background; filling his head with even more desire. his eyes flicker down to the visible bulge in his sweatpants, hard and straining against the fabric as he takes in the sight of you.

“fuck,” he mutters under his breath, almost to himself, his movements never faltering. watching you like this; squirming, moaning, completely falling apart— does something to him he can’t ignore. he never thought it would actually come to this.

but he can’t deny it. he’s thought about it. more times than he’d ever admit. even when he tried to push those thoughts away, when he tried to convince himself it was wrong to see you like this, he could never stop. every time you provoked him, every time you pushed his buttons, it only made him think about it more.

and now? now he’s fucking gone. he loves this. he loves having you squirm beneath him.

“f-fuck, j-jungkook, so good!” you cry out, your voice trembling as your back arches off the couch. your brows pinch together, your lips parted, your entire body trembling under his touch. your eyes flutter shut, so close to rolling back, completely lost in the overwhelming sensation he’s giving you.

“yeah?” he breathes, his tone low and wrecked. “you look so fucking pretty like this, so fucking beautiful..” his pace quickens, his fingers pumping deeper, harder, pushing you closer and closer.

“that’s it, just like that,” he coaxes, as his fingers continue working inside you. his thumb presses firmly against your clit, circling it with just the right amount of pressure, driving you even closer to your release.

your breathing turns ragged, your body trembling beneath his touch as the heat coils tighter in your core. “j-jungkook, i’m gonna—”

“do it,” he murmurs, his gaze locked on your face, watching every expression, every twitch. “fucking cum for me,”

your body tenses, back arching. your walls clench around his fingers as your orgasm washes over you, waves of pleasure crashing through every nerve. you grip his wrist tightly, probably marking him, your thighs trembling as you ride out the high.

he slows his movements, letting you catch your breath, but he doesn’t pull away. instead, he watches you, his eyes dark and full of something you can’t quite place. he gently slips his fingers out, glistening with your release, and you watch, dazed, with your half-open eyes, as he brings them to his lips.

“fuck,” he mutters, licking his fingers clean, his tongue swirling around them as if savoring every taste of you. his gaze meets yours, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “you taste fucking divine.”

“jungkook,” you whisper, your voice shaky but soft, not entirely sure what to say.

but.. before you can say anything, your phone starts ringing. both of your heads snap to the table where it’s vibrating.

the contact name reads “hater,” which you both know means jimin.

your eyes flick to jungkook. his expression shifts, and his hands, which were so close to touching you again, retreat. he steps back, leaving you frowning and still catching your breath.

“shit…” he mutters, standing up quickly, like he's guilty. you push yourself up too, sitting on the couch, not caring about the mess or the fact that you're still half-naked.

“are you fucking serious right now?” you snap, your voice dripping with frustration.

he sighs deeply, rubbing a hand over his face. “just fucking pick it up.”

you scoff but grab your phone anyway, answering it and immediately putting it on speaker.

“what the fuck do you want?” you hiss.

“woah, who hurt you dumbass?” jimin’s voice is light, teasing.

you roll your eyes as jungkook silently fixes his clothes, avoiding your gaze.

“what is it?” you ask, your tone sharper than you intended.

“tell jungkook i’ll be late,” jimin says casually. “i texted him, but he wasn’t answering.”

jungkook looks around, realizing he left his phone on the kitchen counter earlier.

“is that all, brother?” you say, your voice dripping with fake sweetness, emphasizing the last word

“yeah, sister,” jimin replies mockingly, playing along. “go to sleep, it’s late, and don’t worry about jungkook.”

“care about your stupid model friends instead,” you mutter and hang up before he can say more.

jungkook exhales heavily, picking up your shorts from the floor. he places them gently on your lap, covering you, though he avoids looking at you entirely.

“what now? you’re just going to do nothing?” you demand, your voice rising with frustration.

“shut up, ___,” he says, his tone low. “we went too far. we need to stop. it’s better that we—”

“don’t tell me to shut it!” you snap, your voice breaking slightly. “you liked it just as much as i did! and—” you point at his pants, your eyes narrowing. “you’re still fucking hard, so don’t act like it didn’t mean anything.”

he groans, pressing his palm to his face. “just fucking get dressed. go to sleep.” he sighs. “we’re done here. don’t ever bring this up again.”

his words feel like a slap to the face.

“you’re just gonna walk away?” you askbut he doesn’t respond.

jungkook grabs his phone from the kitchen, heading for the front door.

“where are you even going?” you demand, anger and hurt swirling in your chest.

“out. need to cool off,” he says without looking back and walks out, the door shutting behind him.

you sit there, staring at the door.

this hurts. so. fucking. much.

what the fuck is his problem?

you want to scream, to fight, to get some kind of answer out of him, but he’s gone.

this was not okay. you can't forgive him. too fucking far.

you fucking hate jungkook.

note: wait ngl lmao i think i had a little too much fun w this ,, even though i was crying & trying to make the smut part even better 🥴

no series taglist !!

💌 permanent taglist: @annyeongbitch7 @internetrando64 @jkvias @lovieku @deluluisdasolulu @ddanasjk @onlyforyoukook @diamondjeon @nnybtitts08 @lil0u0 @butnotmontana @fr0ggieth1nk @minimoninini @whoa-jo @lola75111 @jaytheatiny @iswearimover5feetall @rispwr @genevieveeeee

@134340-kr @mar-lo-pap @fluttershypoo @kyuupii @https-mei @elinaki92 @jungkookmyoneandonlybaby @hoseokteardrop @winterbeartaehyungbestboy @jaykay-world @jmscaffeine @libra04 @beigerin @nikidream24 @svnbangtansworld @mimi1097 @kookoo-kachoo @junecat18 @iheartchanelle @rrosiitas @jjeonjjk7 @remgeolli @ty-moy-ya-tvoy @rpwprpwprpwprw

[brianquinnlvr]

𝐁𝐅𝐁, 𝐫𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐧

SUMMARY you've had a crush on your best friends older brother for at least three years now. but he's always been so far out of reach that the thought of the two of you together just sounded wrong to others. for starters, he's three years older than you. and while that isn't a problem now that you're 19 and hes 22, which is not illegal, it was always a problem at the beginning of your crush. another bump in the road happens to be the fact that you're a pogue, and not just any pogue, john b routledge's twin sister. it wasn't necessarily his distaste for pogues though, it was more of a reputation thing. but after a party one night, maybe he can put his reputation aside.

rafe cameron x routledge!silly!reader 💌

au where he's not a murderer and he + sarah have a regular sibling relationship 🫡 also smau, along with irl

warnings: suggestive, slight age gap

series masterlist

you sat at the edge of your bed, scrolling on your phone as you awaited the arrival of the cameron siblings. you'd never been the type to be any form of secretive about a crush, in your eyes, there was other fish in the sea. if you're not madly in love with them, then rejection isn't that big of a deal. but rafe cameron rejecting you would be absolutely humiliating, considering you were so delusional about him that you qualified for a padded white room and possibly even a straight jacket. and well, now that you know he's aware of your crush on him, you are not looking forward to seeing him.

so as you hear the honking of rafe's truck, you jump slightly, pinching the bridge of your nose and exiting your room, making your way into the living room where your brother john b was. "farewell jb." you spoke. he sat up from his spot on the couch, leaning over to look out the window with furrowed eyebrows. "did sarah take rafe's truck?"

you sighed, sliding your converse on. "no, rafe's taking us." you grumbled, pulling on the laces of your shoes and tying them. "this is the only time i've ever dreaded seeing rafe cameron." john b chuckled. "good luck." 

as you stood up and gathered yourself, you turned to the door, calling behind you to your brother as you opened it. "thanks g. be back soon!" you didn't wait for a response as you exited the home. a smile erupted on your face as you made eye contact with sarah through the windsheild of rafe's truck, waving and jogging over to the vehicle.

you climbed in the back seat, sitting in the middle. "hi sar-bear." you said normally, in an effort to put up a front that you didn't care about the whole rafe knowing you like him thing. it wasn't really the fact of him knowing, but more of the fact that you seriously genuinely never had a chance.

but.. now that he knows, whats the harm in flirting? "hey beautiful." you said to rafe, to which he sighed through his nose. "hi yn." he grumbled, putting the car in reverse, his right hand going to the back of the passenger seat to help himself turn around, and god did he look good.

you were going to open your mouth to address his slutty actions, but you decided against it, silently sitting in the back of the truck until you pulled into the parking lot of the mall.

you and sarah unbuckled your seatbelts and began climbing out, ready to thank rafe for the ride but you paused as you noticed him getting out. "what are you doing?" you asked, eyebrows knitted together. he shrugged as you climbed out. "what? thought i was gonna drive all the way here just to drop you off? i need new swimming trunks anyways."

great. just what you needed. not only did you have to have an awkward car ride in the presence of the finest man alive being aware you thought he was the finest man alive, but now he'd be walking around the building with you—or at least you assumed, saying a silent prayer to yourself that he'd wander off alone.

he didn't, though. but he didn't really make his presence unbearable, either. he didn't say much—like at all. he did separate himself once or twice, also never really directly talking to you when he did choose to open his mouth. until sarah saw one of her old friends from highschool, that was. obviously, with you being a pogue, you did not go to the kook academy. so when sarah ran off to greet her friend that you'd never seen a day in your life, you stayed back, sipping on the auntie anne's lemonade with an h&m bag sitting in your hand, along with a bath and body works bag

last week you'd worked overtime at the wreck, so you figured you'd treat yourself with the extra money. though everything was insanely expensive these days, so you didn't get much. "so..." you mumbled at an attempt to break the silence. you were gonna follow up with something about the weather, or whatever it is people like rafe talk about. probably stockmarkets or something. but you couldn't help yourself from flirting just a little. i mean look at him, anyone who can control themselves around rafe cameron has the self control of a literal saint. "be honest, you only came in to be in my presence."

you wanted to say something a little more unsettling like 'hows that dick', but you managed to keep a bit of dignity. obviously you knew he was absolutely not there for you, but you did not expect him to play along. "you caught me." he said, his lips pressing into a thin line. 

you chuckled softly. "it's okay, don't be embarrassed. i'm used to guys being obsessed with me." you continued jokingly, eyes trained on his insanely beautiful face. "oh i'm the obsessed one?" he asked, his buff arms crossed over his chest as he tilted his head slightly, a very slight smirk on his lips now. "cus... if i recall correctly, you're the one who has sexual fantasies about me."

your cheeks burned bright red, not expecting him to bring up the message from earlier. you played it off by rolling your eyes, but it was clear to him that you were embarrassed. it gave him a sense of accomplishment. he couldn't explain it, but making you flustered felt nice in way.

thankfully, sarah walked up before the conversation could go any further and get any more awkward. "hey guys." she said with a smile. "sorry, old friend from highschool. what store next?"

you shrugged, knowing your budget was getting low. "theres a new shop over on the other end of the building. kie went recently, she said i'd love it." sarah smiled, beginning to walk in that direction, noticing the slight blush on your cheeks and the smug state rafe seemed to be in, but she chose to ignore it. "lets go then."

the walk to the shop was short, you and sarah talking about random things while rafe still followed silently behind, his hands in the pockets of his khaki shorts. the moment you entered the store, you knew you'd be coming back. 

your eyes immediately landed on a pair of dark denim shorts with a pretty floral pattern embroidered on it that reminded you so much of adrianne lenker's album cover for songs and instrumentals. you rushed over to them. "oh my god i need these immediately." you looked at the size, seeing they were your size. "this is fate. hallelujah thank you god." you said in a more humerous manner, going to look at the price tag. your smile faltered a bit as you saw the price tag, and you sighed, placing them back on the shelf. "okay, nevermind, apparently god hates me."

you always struggled with money growing up, but rafe and sarah were apart of one of the richest families on the island. i mean, they lived in the tannyhill mansion for fucks sake. sarah was your best friend, so you knew she'd absolutely never judge you for your financial state being so different from her's, but you were still ashamed of it. you were so different from her in so many ways. and obviously you were even more embarrassed with rafe there, who you'd flirted with a mere 5 minutes ago. it wasn't getting you any closer to getting in his pants, thats for sure.

sarah giggled softly, picking them back up. "it's okay, i'll sugar mama you." she winked. you smiled at her. "well thank you, but i'm not letting you buy me a $32 pair of shorts." she dismissed you with her hand. "don't be silly, yn." sarah reached for her wallet, opening it, and her smile was the next to falter. "shit. i don't have enough cash left and i forgot my card on my desk. i promise i'll come back and get them when my car gets done later."

you were the one dismissing her with your hand now, making a "pssht." sound. "its okay sar, i don't need them. i'm serious. i'll come back and get them when my next paycheck hits." she sighed. "fine. but only because ward put me on a limit until i get a job anyways." 

you chuckled, making your way to the vinyl section of the store, shopping through. you caught a glimpse of rafe in the corner of your eye, unable to resist yourself from looking at him as you turned your head, not even trying to hide the staring. he was standing at the place the three of you just were, seemingly shopping through the woman's clothing right there. 

you sighed, assuming he probably had a girlfriend or something that he was shopping for. rafe absolutely never posted on social media, and he was also never really at any parties or bonfires anymore. he was so mysterious, and it unfortunately made him a million times hotter.

after a moment, you went back to shopping through the vinyls and conversating with sarah about some of the albums you'd found. it wasn't long until you were climbing back into the backseat of rafe's truck with sarah shotgun. once rafe climbed into the drivers seat, instead of immediately turning on the car like you'd expected, he turned to you and handed you a bag from the store earlier. you furrowed your eyebrows, grabbing the bag cautiously. "whats this?" 

he turned back and started the car, beginning to drive. "i bought you the shorts. now you don't have to spend your next paycheck on them." he shot you a smile through the rear-view mirror then just went on about his day. "well thank you." you said softly, looking inside of the bag. "hot and thoughtful. how am i your only current bitch? against your will, too."

he rolled his eyes, but you could see the small hint of a smile on his face. it was like he was purposely trying to make himself look more boyfriend material than he already did.

v speaks: hi this was lowkkkkk ass but its just cus its an intro part i'm sorry like i have nothing from a previous part to build off of or anything💔 ill be better #swear also im shaking in my boots i havent published any writing since 2023

[myrruwrites]

"Dinner party" | Vamp!Teen!Vi x Fem!reader

Pairing: Vamp!Teen!Violet x Human!Fem!Reader. | CW: Suggestive? not too much. they’re still young after all. Blood & Vampire feeding obv. Cursing. | Vi needs you while she’s trying to learn how to rein in her instincts. | WC; 706 | CC; 3.9K

You’re contemplating what to wear to the outing tonight, your fingers carding through your wardrobe. You settle on something simple, shorts and a baggy tee. I mean, you don’t want to overthink it, might as-well go for a casual choice. Vander had invited you over, as you’re Vi’s closest friend. You’ve been best friends ever since you were younger, inseparable almost. No one could get you to stop hanging out, even when you caused trouble together. Grounded? You’d just sneak out to the other’s house. It was second nature at this point. Although, at this dinner you won’t be the only guest. Vi’s brothers and sister will also have friends over. You’re not usually keen on big get togethers, but you make the effort to go, for Vi.

As you arrive, you notice a few boys already at the door, speaking to Vander and heading inside. You recognise them from school; though you’ve never spoken to them apart from maybe asking to borrow a pen. You assume they’re Mylo and Claggor’s friends, taking a deep breath to steel yourself. Why are you afraid? That’s stupid. This place is essentially your second home. Cmon, snap out of it! You are in-fact, snapped out of it, as you notice Vi in the doorway, in a passionate discussion with Vander. Your expression softens as you realise the boys must’ve already slipped past him, and you stroll up to the door. "Hello, Mr Vander" you say softly. "Just Vander is fine, I’ve been telling you that for ages. Really, any friend of Vi’s can just call me Vander." He corrects and you hastily nod. You would’ve spent more time hanging around, talking to those around you, but before you can process anything, Vi is already grabbing your wrist and pulling you into her room.

Before you can even realise what’s happening, you’re met with Vi’s piercing stare. She’s managed to climb onto your lap, holding you still with her weight, although she’s careful not to hurt you. Fuck, what is she doing? You expect her to stop, to climb off, or atleast speak. But she just sits there. She’s just sat there, panting softly as if trying to catch her breath. You feel the air around you become heavier, an undercurrent of tension surrounding you that wasn’t there before. It’s subtle, but noticeable. Vi’s face is inching closer, her heartbeat racing, you can hear it. Her warm breath fanning your face, making a shiver run up your spine. You can’t help but think.. is she actually going to kiss you? Is it really happening?

Your thought process is cut off by the feeling of a sudden 'prick' in your neck, you feel a warm liquid seep down. Oh! Oh. Vi buried her face in your neck, not that you mind. Infact, you tilt your head to the side, embracing the burning feeling her fangs give you as they draw blood. This had never happened before, Vi had never even gotten close to loosing control, this is new. Even though you’ve always been aware Vi was from a vampire lineage, you had never expected to be in such a position. Vi’s knee between your legs as she’s ontop of you, her face buried in your neck, albeit fangs too, but still. You can hear her breathing begin to calm, returning back to normal as she slowly drinks. She’s almost.. gentle. Gentle is a foreign concept for Vi, it’s always been as though she didn’t know what the word even meant. Though, maybe that was just her being a traditional reckless teen. This.. this was different. She was actively trying to keep you safe, keep you comfortable. You can’t help but let out a slight whimper at the compromising position mixed with the strange sensation filling your neck and chest. The noise causes Vi to still, pulling back slightly. "Did you just..?" She murmurs. Your face turns pink, and in a last attempt to void her seeing you all flustered, you gently push her head back towards your neck. "..shut up," you respond sharply, though there’s no real aggression in your tone. You feel her sink her teeth back in, relaxing into your touch again. Yeah, you could get used to this.

[sporadicallyanenthusiast]

First of all, let me just thank you for taking the time to explain all of these points! There were many contexts here I didn't know about and it helps make more sense of the story! So thank you so much ❤️

And the thing about Ancient Greek and color is really fascinating! Kudos to the people that first began translating the ancient texts, because oh boy! Hahaha @mari--lace also mentioned in the replies how it is not a consensus on Athena's eye color either. I've only ever heard about the "wine colored sea" point, but never had the thought to dig deeper and learn more. I am definitely going to change that hahaha There are so many interesting things to learn, no wonder so many scientists have been studying the topic for centuries.

I'll have to admit, our poor Menelaus really did suffer a lot, dear Gods. Since my first contact with him was through the Odyssey and some fandom posts, sometimes I forget Agamemnon was his brother. And yes, as much as he loved Odysseus, learning about your brother's death like that can't be easy to digest. And the timeline of how long he stayed shipwrecked was a little fuzzy to me, so it makes sense that after 7 years, his memory would be hazy! I see what you mean when you refer to it as a vision/dream now. I didn't know Aegisthus had them exiled either, so that definitely adds even another layer to the hell Menelaus' life was at that time! We talk so much about Odysseus' hardships, but oh my, poor Mene didn't catch a break either, I'm appalled 😰 I have yet to wrap my mind around the fact the the poems were supposed to be performed out loud as well. A lot of the narrative choices make way more sense when you remember that, it's not just a regular book. I suppose that is why some things sound jarring when you read it for the first time.

And yes! Oh my, I never thought the texts would be so expressive and so warm, you know? We tend to have this idea that people from different times were too cold and distant, but they were still human at the end of the day. Of course they'd be affectionate to the ones they loved! And to be honest, it reminds me of when I read Sherlock Holmes for the first time. It really caught me by surprise how Sherlock and Watson were described and how they talked about each other in such a loving way. I don't know when we stopped writing platonic relationships so beautifully like that, but it truly is a loss to modern literature, in my humble opinion.

And I had no idea about Odysseus' own prophecy! I did know he tried to avoid going to war, but I just assumed it was because he had a newborn son and wanted to be there for Penelope. In that scenario, it really is fair to point out Menelaus trying to warn them wouldn't change much. On that note, Athena herself also told Telemachus Odysseus was alive and he didn't believe her, the Wisdom Goddess hahaha I hadn't thought about that before, but it really does illustrate how hopeless all of them were. If Telemachus didn't believe Athena, you're right, he wouldn't really care about Menelaus' letter either.

I knew about the law of Xenia, so I assumed that was the only reason stopping them from sending the suitors away. I admit I was a tad bit confused why Telemachus didn't force the suitors to leave once he outright had Athena's and Zeus' blessing, so your explanation really helped me make sense of everything!

It's such a nice and sweet detail to have Telemachus and Odysseus going through their journeys at the same time (Telemachus' first journey and Odysseus' last journey, even!), only to meet again at home and taking back control of their palace together. Maybe I teared up a bit, can't deny nor confirm hahahahaha

You are still way more knowledgeable on the topic, and your academic background gives a perspective other people might not have. So I think it's fair to call you as such 🥰❤️

Oh, I see! Sorry, I'm a bit too anxious at times and end up worrying too much that I gave the wrong impression or was rude by accident hahaha

This has been a lovely discussion indeed! Once again, thank you so much for being so kind to explain everything, I'll definitely be reading the books with new perspectives and insights!

Telemachus is so much stronger than me for real. Cause if I had traveled for days, by sea AND land, arrived at the palace of my father's friend and my mother's cousin to humbly ask if they know anything about my missing father and instead of just fucking telling me already, this mf started a monologue about how gay he is for my dad and about the time he captured a God that granted him wishes three, I'd already be telling him to Hurry The Fuck Up. IT'S BEEN TEN YEARS, I DON'T HAVE ALL DAY.

But if the same motherfucker then turned around and told me that he had known FOR YEARS NOW that my dad is trapped on an island AND THE MOTHERFUCKER DIDN'T TELL ANYONE!!!! NOT A SINGLE LETTER!!! I would have already strangled Menelaus with that fucking blond hair of his in front of his wife and children, unhelpful son of a bitch.

[tastesousweet]

01 : Who’s the New Guy?

hamzah has a summer gig as the pool boy for one of his friends and y/n can’t help it if she’s just so intrigued by this friend of her brother’s.

01. 02. 03.

crushes came to you quite often.

you remember playground crushes; the boys you liked to stare at from afar as you played in the sand as a child. or the boys who frequented your prestigious ballet studio who were pretty and rambunctious which aided your curiosity. there was presley in high school who you found undeniably cool with his tattoos and effortless guitar playing skills; things ended with your heart torn at the fact that he admitted to enjoying your admiration and desire for him more than you and your entirety. he must’ve thought you were some ditz with the way he spoke to you that night : “i’m sorry, but i’m no liar, i never said i loved you, let alone liked you. in what world would we ever be together, y/n?”

your older sister, mina, has always told you boys are nothing but compliant lap dogs to the other boys around them; she warned you that you’ll never find one that would hold you because just because you asked (or even better if you didn’t have to ask), that he would make sure his buddy is wrapping his arms around a girl before he found it okay to do so. give and take, a fight for validation. a constant look around to ensure they’re accepted among themselves, “they’ll never learn to care if you except the bare minimum from them and it’s only worse that you’re so quick to accept any “love” without them having to at least try, y/n.”

she told you not to get caught up in the drama that came with boys (their breaking hearts and such) — or the other catty girls who were in competition to hold a guy’s attention for longer than a night in bed or date night out.

your older brother (who's also mila's twin) always claimed that your sister was spitting out a mouthful of bullshit whenever she’d start her hate-speech against men. this would typically lead the two to begin their own brawl, leaving you to solemnly look the other way, to find a safe piece of eye-candy that would surely turn your pupils into tiny black hearts.

while you tend to get a little fantastical about your intense desire for devotion and affection, your first, grounded love came in the form of ballet.

at age four you found yourself captivated by a small ballet theater production of sleeping beauty, you still fondly remember your great aunt accompanying you and the way she cried the entire time. you haven’t known a time where you weren’t amazed by the way you could move your body. you remember stretching yourself obsessively and eventually by age six you were watching late night shows with your family while maintaining a full split in front of the tv.

yet now, at nineteen that childhood dream you’ve worked towards your entire life feels like an overwhelming, burnt-out nightmare with clouded vision and harshly barked orders of “higher!” “now tighter!” “follow through!” “be consistent!” from your roster of highly established instructors, all fighting around in your head.

those first two years of school gave you a glimpse of what you’ve always thought you wanted — early mornings, strict diets, long days of structured dancing, endless nights of studying, eye bags covered in concealer, headaches from tight ponytails or buns, icing your knee caps on weekends, losing your mind and your poise demeanor without a doubt by the end of each semester. and above all you missed your parents, so bad.

so, after much pouting (and a few phone calls that consisted of you crying and blubbering about how broken down you’d become), your parents allowed for you to spend your summer break at home with them (rather than your usual confinement to an acclaimed, private ballet institution for the entire break), under the guise that you’d be training with your old high school instructor to ensure you maintain your pristine skill level. you were sure that obligation was easy enough, as you’d already been through the hell of it in the spring.

now the sun beats on your glowy skin as you lie on a cream lounge chair. the bikini you wear is a soft kiss of pink, decorated in tiny black polka dots, that leaves little to imagine. your long legs are crossed at the ankle, bare feet exposed with your toes painted an elegant matching shade of pink. your book is now abandoned at your hip as you gaze, with squinted eyes, at the boy stood across the lawn’s wide stretch of concrete. his focus is on cleaning your family pool — rarely stopping unless he finds it completely necessary to wipe away a growing layer of sweat from his forehead.

he’s hasn’t given you any attention, barely a glance over, nothing close to an introduction. yet he’s somehow become your new person of interest with such little effort or time. you’ve covered yourself in sunscreen (in a slow fashion just in case he wanted a teasing show mid-shift), flipped onto your stomach to show off the curve of your ass as you read a few chapters of a memoir (trying to focus on the words written in times new roman to avoid getting distracted by the tall man), you’ve gone inside to grab a pair of sunglasses (to have a reason to walk by him and gain a shield that allows you to stare without your eyes on display), after ten minutes you decided sunglasses made the world far too dark and you would rather he know you’re staring at him than stare and get a poor view.

there was something about his warm, beautifully tanned skin and toned arms working against his white wife-beater that hugged him well. and his face was so inviting — you liked it when he had a question about a certain pipe and went to ask your dad about it, as he listened he cracked a smile and gave a nod of his head in understanding. it’s unbearable that you don’t know his name, but you can imagine it’s something cute that you’d like the sound of when hearing your voice deliver it.

after a much needed bathroom break, you make your way back outside with a deep red, raspberry popsicle in your hand. you lick over the cold dessert a few times as you move closer to where the boy sits, obviously exhausted, with his head tilted down towards his knees.

“hi,” you speak, standing in front of him.

he seems to be caught off guard by your presence, flinching slightly before looking up (attempting to refrain from scanning over your exposed body), “uh, hey?”

“are you finished?” you question with a slight head tilt.

“oh, not really, i just have t’pressure check the jets in the hot tub. that’s my bad, ill get back to it.” he goes to stand but you place your hand gently on his shoulder so that he stays.

you both look at your hand’s placement then into each other’s eyes. you smile awkwardly, taking your hand off of him and begin pretending to dust something off of his shoulder, “… just some sorta feather or …” you clear your throat and retract your hand again, “sorry, um, i just thought i’d introduce myself. because- well, i live here and i guess i … just wanted to know your name,” you speak softly and bring the popsicle to your mouth to suckle a little more.

your eyes look at him with a sense and emotion he’s not sure anyone has in his entire life. you’re like a viper or siren, some sort of creature that’s hypnotizing him with beauty and desire. as he speaks you continue lapping the popsicle in your mouth, he clears his throat, “hamzah.”

“hamzah? i like it.” you love it.

“yeah?” he looks down at the popsicle that’s now slick from your mouth’s warmth, then he’s looking back in your eyes, “thanks.”

“how’d my parent’s find such a cutie to come pour chlorine in the pool?” you flirt.

“i mean i do more than pour chlorine in a pool, y’know i check the piping, change the tank …” your stare is so captivating it’s hard for him to not feel like blushing, “i’ll, uh, tell you all about it later. t’answer your question, i’m friends with leo and needed a summer gig before goin’ back to school.”

you can’t believe it’s true — your brother doesn’t have nice friends. your brother even doesn’t have friends with real jobs let alone any that plan to complete college. you laugh softly, “no, you’re not? i know all of my brother’s friends.”

hamzah shrugs his shoulders, “i mean, i guess we weren’t the closest in high school,” he pinches his eyes slightly, “you are the younger sister, right? the one who’s got all that dance business goin’ on?”

you shake your head in slight embarrassment at your description, “yes, that’s me with the “dance business”” you smile, “i’m y/n.”

“cool. s’nice to meet you,” he reaches his hand out and you place yours in his hold as you two shake hands.

── .✦

you were pouring a glass of water when the idea came to you; you knew hamzah was bound to be leaving soon but you craved to hear more from him. all it took was a slight (but very intentional) tumble of the words, “i wanna invite that new pool boy to stay dinner,” for your father to immediately agree.

he continues to stir at the sizzling vegetables in his pan, “oh! that’s a wonderful idea, sweetheart, open that for for me?” he nods towards the sliding glass door.

you try not to display your excitement too blatantly, but can’t help that your socked feet glide over to the door.

your father’s immediately calling out, “hey hamzah! c’mere a minute would’ya?”

hamzah immediately bolts over, he’s out of breath and surprised to see you leaning against the open door, “hey,” he directs to you but it’s sounds more like a gasp for air than a word.

“no running by the pool,” you whisper back, watching as his face of confusion turns into another smile.

“fair,” hamzah shrugs.

“hamzah, we were hopin’ you’d stay for dinner tonight?”you father speaks loudly, and the way he says it makes it sound like more of a statement than a question.

his face lights up, “sur-”

“say yes,” you warn through your teeth, knowing your father’s irritation with any use of a word as dismissive as “sure”.

“yes, um, yes that sounds great. thank you, sir.” he can see you giggling beside him, and when your father turns away he playfully nudges your side with his elbow.

── .✦

dinner was full of undying conversation and many overlaps in dialogue. never a dull moment.

“y/n, pass the mashed potatoes,” your brother calls out.

you whine, “leo, i just said my entire body hurts from training, i’ve passed it back and forth like four times already.”

“oh my god, and somehow your complaining just ruined my appetite, anyway. i can always count on you, y/n.” he laughs under his breath.

“that’s enough, now.” your mother speaks up, “but y/n, i’m getting worried, do you think you need some extra sessions dedicated to stretching?”

“i’m fi-”

“shoot, hamzah could give you some tips on stretchin’.” your brother jokes, “weren’t you in ballet?”

hamzah is completely flushed, “like, barely, my parents forced me when i was, like, seven-”

he’s cut off as soon as you register what this could mean for you, “wait, you’d really help me?” you ask with a sense of genuine curiosity, and a big, encouraging smile of course.

“hamzah i never knew you were so, multitalented.” your mother comments.

leo laughs, “he’s n-”

hamzah clears his throat and wipes his mouth with a small napkin, “well, yeah, i’ll help out wherever i can.”

“really?!” you’re relieved that he actually agreed.

“oh good fucking luck,” your brother sighs under his breath and claps a hand against hamzah’s shoulder.

── .✦

“don’t forget you need to meet me at the studio at 6 to beat the rush, wear something flexible, and remember to bring your smart brain and lots of patience — i can be kinda bitchy that early in the morning!”

hamzah sighs, returning to standing a few inches above you now that he’s done tying his shoes in your foyer, “as opposed to bringing my dumb brain and all of my impatience —” he smiles at you and but your face is plain and straight, “right. yeah, i got it all. you also wrote it down for me on my hand, remember?” he shows his hand with purple, glittery ink covering the palm.

your arms are crossed as you explain, “yes but that’s just unreliable- it’ll be gone by morning…” you shrug and watch as he pulls a sweatshirt in over his head, “and i need to tell you these things in case you forget about me and don’t set an alarm.”

he laughs as adjusts the sleeves of the mossy green sweatshirt, “i won’t.”

“cool.”

“so i’m wakin’ up at 10 and goin’ for breakfast then meeting up with you?” he jokes and immediately catches your hand in his own before you get the chance to push his shoulder. he laughs as he brings you close, keeping your hand in his as he offers a warm side hug. “i’ll be at the studio before 6, how about that?”

you nod as you pull away, “you better.”

“uh huh,” he opens your front door and finally calls out “good night!” to your family, who all echo the sentiment back to him. before he fully walks out he turns to you, with your hold on the tall wooden door, “bye, i’ll see you in, like, nine hours or somethin’.”

“bye, thank you,” you smile and watch him rush over to his car parked on the street, “don’t forget, hamzah!” you holler and watch his figure throw a thumbs up into the air before he climbs into his slightly janky car.

── .✦

you both were a couple of yawning, baby fawns with the amount of slow blinks and constant, accidental bumps into each other as you walked into the quiet studio and found your way into a private practice room.

the colors of the walls and equipment were various muted browns and light grays. you set your duffle bag on the ground and stretched your arms above you, “so, what exactly are we doing?”

hamzah rubs at his eyes, he’s clad in basic grey sweatpants and another white wife-beater, his hair is its usual curly with slight frizz from sleep, “umm, you’re the professional here?”

“hamzahhhh, you said you would help!” you drag while adjusting yourself onto the floor, stretching out your legs on either side of you.

“yeah! but i wasn’t expectin’ to have any stretches made! im not a yoga instructor, i was just gonna be your little assistant.” he moves to the ground with you.

“m’kay, here,” you flutter your fingers to encourage him to mimic your position and hold onto your forearms, “and now flatten your back and lean forward,” you both complete the action then return to sitting up.

“what do they always say? come on, deep breaths, in!” you both hold “and out,” you both release.

you smile at him,“you’re a natural, look at you!” you compliment.

the two of you complete your entire yoga flow that you’d do almost every day at university, before progressing into the most random yoga poses you’d heard of under the guise of “let’s just try it!”

there were a few fails due to lack of balance or the need to burst into laughter but generally you two worked well together.

just before you two left you asked hamzah to help you stretch deeper, as you lie flat on a mat, lifting your leg up boldly. “i just need you to kneel down and push my leg all the way into my chest for me …” you bite at your bottom lip to suppress a smile.

hamzah finishes his sip of water, watching you lie there in that tight yoga piece, dangling a foot in the air and inviting him to be so close to you. “yeah? ‘kay, guide me.” he sets the bottle down and kneels in front of you as you asked.

“mhm, yeah here i’ll just,” you move your leg onto his shoulder and bring his hand to your lower thigh, just above your knee, “right … there.” you let your hand linger on his before looking back at him. he’s already focused on your face and your next command, “just lean forward and bring my leg with you,” you accidentally let out the tiniest, whiniest little groan.

“m’sorry,” he whispers with wide eyes.

“no, don’t. it’s good, i needed this,” you remind.

“yeah, just breathe, you’re doin’ good.” he coaches while pushing your leg further.

── .✦

“mmm! if the girls in my class knew i was eating this i’d be skinned and shunned from the program!” you shake your head, raspberry jelly dribbling from the side of your lips. you’re more than grateful hamzah suggested you both stop by a small shop, only a block away, for some post-yoga sweetness.

hamzah continues to walk back towards the studio with you next to him, crinkling wax paper wrapping into his pocket, “that’s gnarly as fuck, you couldn’t even have like a single plain donut? just one?”

“no, and half of ‘em have heart palpitations at the thought of honey nut cheerios. i think donuts would end them, unfortunately.” you wipe your face.

“well, damn maybe ballet-in’ kinda sucks?”

“maybe.” you sigh and bring the large jelly donut up to his mouth as he bites, “what’d you think it was like?”

he shrugs, chews a little, then answers, “i dunno- fun?”

you let out a soft laugh and take another bite. you’re just a little annoyed that hamzah makes it far too easy to crush on him — how dare he be so pretty and kind and actually interested…?

── .✦

a/n: hiii first part of my short series for hamzah! yaaayyy!! hope u all liked this, i did not proof read too in depth so im kinda just prayin it makes sense. love ya! <3

[dunzella]

Yandere! Serial Killer

♢ Yandere! Serial Killer whose on the run from the police, "she" had been careless with one of "her" victims, a rare slip-up for someone who prided "herself" on precision. Evidence left behind, a single, damning thread now had the authorities breathing down "her" neck.

Yandere! Serial Killer who isn’t new to the game. "She" had been turning victims into works of art for years, taking people who were in horrible accidents barely clinging onto life before "she" takes them and turns them into dolls.

Now "she's" forced to lay low, with a disguise. A wig cascaded down "her" back, pastel highlights blending effortlessly.

Dainty hands adjusted the straps of a tight pink corset while "she" checked "herself" in the mirror. Thick thighs hugged by stockings, soft pink lips curling into a knowing smirk.

The police would never suspect "her." No one ever did.

Yandere! Serial Killer wandered into a coffee shop one day, and spotted you. Instantly remembering you as "her" high school crush, never really spoken a few shy 'hi's' here and there. "She" mainly just observed from afar since you was always surrounded by people.

You was a senior and "she" was a sophmore, so when you graduated and left the school it broke "her" heart. Never able to confess to you about "her" feelings or even managing to court you.

Yandere! Serial Killer who thinks this was fate, a second chance and was about to walk over to you until "she" froze. All of a sudden remembering "her" current situation, you wouldn't even recongnize "her" because of the disguise.

It's not like "she" could walk right up to you without it either "she's" a wanted criminal. And "she" highly doubts you haven't seen "her" actual face on the news.

Yandere! Serial Killer who scans your face with the same precision "she" uses to memorize her victims’ features. But you’re different. You’re not a victim. You’re special. There’s a maturity to you now, a depth that makes "her" want you even more.

Yandere! Serial Killer who bit "her" lips, and decided to take this chance, "she" can’t let you slip away again. Not this time.

Yandere! Serial Killer approaching you and striking up a conversation, "she" felt a familiar shiver down "her" spine when you had stated "she" looked familiar to someone you remembered in high school. Asking if "she" had a brother.

Yandere! Serial Killer who dreamt of this moment over and over finally able to have a real conversation with you, instead of shying away. Feeling very giddy unable to hide "her" excitement.

Yandere! Serial Killer who suddenly felt hot beneath the tight corset, feeling how "her" body betrayed "her". "Her" plush thighs pressed together as "her" mind wandered to places it shouldn’t, not here, not now. The pink lace of her stockings suddenly felt too tight, feeling a familiar pressure between "her" legs.

Pretty manicured fingers gripped the coffee cup a little too tightly as "she" forced "herself" to focus. "She" couldn’t scare you away, not yet.

Yandere! Serial Killer who nearly combusts when you exchange numbers. You think "she’s" just a bubbly, harmless old acquaintance from high school. How could you have known the truth?

Yandere! Serial Killer who as soon as "she" got back home "she" needed to take care of "her" growing problem. "She" couldn’t stop thinking about you. Replay after replay of your conversation danced in "her" mind as "she" stroked "herself", soft moans of your name muffled by "her" pillow.

Yandere! Serial Killer who after coming down from "her" high decided on that day "she" won’t lose you again. This time, "she’ll" do it right. "She’ll" worm "her" way back into your life, just like "she" always dreamed of in high school.

Yandere! Serial Killer who becomes your best friend. "She’s" bubbly and sweet, always making you laugh. "She" agrees with everything you say, knows just what you’re thinking before you say it. You’re amazed by how connected you feel to "her"—like "she" knows you better than you know yourself.

You didn’t know it yet, but your other friends were disappearing. They were vanishing. And "she" was collecting their pieces—literally and figuratively.

Yandere! Serial Killer who was thinking about courting you and make "her" feelings known to you, but remembered "she" was playing a character and not as "herself" due to unfortunate circumstances which never fails to piss "her" off.

Yandere! Serial Killer often wondered if you would still like "her" if "she" came clean, wondering if you’d call "her" insane if you found out the truth. Would you turn "her" in? Would you scream? "She" dreams about it sometimes, imagined your tears, your pleas.

Yandere! Serial Killer who finishes stitching up "her" latest "doll" a person who dared flirt with you and sighs. Blood smearing on the cigarette "she" lit, taking a long drag. "Her" mind drifts back to you. The thought of losing you again terrifies "her" more than the police ever could.

Yandere! Serial Killer who finally snaps when "she" stalked caught you going on a date with someone else. The sight of you all dolled up for them. Smiling, and laughing, made "her" heart shatter into a million jagged pieces.

Yandere! Serial Killer's face twists into something hideous, a snarl that looks entirely out of place on the delicate, doll-like face "she’s" crafted. This wasn’t just jealousy—it was betrayal. An ultimate, unforgivable sin.

"You’ll regret this," "she" whispers under "her" breath, "her" voice dripping with venom. "I’ll make sure you never even think about leaving me again."

Yandere! Serial Killer who dragged your mangled unconscious body out of your destroyed car after the brakes mysteriously failed.

Yandere! Serial Killer who immediately got to work, "her" fingers expertly weaving through "her" collection of needles and threads. The crazed grin on "her" lips only widened as "she" stitched up the injuries, "her" blood-streaked hands steady.

Yandere! Serial Killer who smiled when "she" saw your eyes flutter open, the haze of confusion clouding your gaze as you took in your surroundings. Noticing you was sitting on "her" oddly broad lap.

Yandere! Serial Killer who laughed as "she" cooed at you, as you tried to sit up, only to realize how weak you were.

"Aw, don’t overexert yourself, dear," she cooed, "her" voice now much deeper and malicious. "You’ve been through so much already."

Yandere! Serial Killer who cradled you on "her" lap, ignoring your weak protests as you squirmed against "her". You froze when you felt it. A hard, unmistakable pressure pressing against your ass.

Yandere! Serial Killer who’s playful facade cracked as "her" hands reached for "her" pastel wig. "She" tugged it off in one swift motion, revealing short, messy blonde hair. "Her" expression darkened, "her" once-cheerful smile now replaced by something dead.

Yandere! Serial Killer who wordlessly reached into his bra, pulling out the fake silicone breasts with a quick flick of his wrist and tossing them aside like trash. His movements were stiff, irritated, his patience thinning. He stared at you with a mix of boredom and contempt.

Processing how his face was bare, but he was still sadly pretty his androgynous features seemed to have helped him go unnoticed. All the pieces finally clicking together.

"Recognize me now?" he muttered, his voice low, almost a growl. "You should. They’ve been plastering my face all over the news."

Yandere! Serial Killer who motioned toward the table in front of you, a silver platter gleaming under the warm, pink light of the room. Your stomach churned as he lifted the lid with a dramatic flourish, revealing the severed head of the person you’d been seeing.

Yandere! Serial Killer who grinned as your eyes widened in horror, tears streaming down your face as the realization hit you like a freight train. Their severed body parts were arranged grotesquely around it, the intestines draped like an awful decoration. The sight sent a wave of nausea rushing up your throat.

"Thought we’d have dinner together," he said mockingly, "I couldn’t let them come between us, after all."

Yandere! Serial Killer who sweetly kissed your cheek seeing the look of dawning horror on your face. This was pure madness. Your heart hammered in your chest as tears welled up in your eyes.

Now noticing the overwhelming stench of death, sweat, and something sweeter like rot; clung to the air...coming from the dolls around his room. Some were disfigured, their faces distorted, stitched up where the skin had been torn or burned.

The worse part is how stiff you felt gazing at your hand you see your wrists stitched up, lifting you shirt you see large lines long, jagged stitches, crude and uneven.

You realized with sickening clarity...you were another one of his creations.

"You’re mine now," he purred, leaning in so close his breath ghosted over your skin. "And nothing, no one, is going to take you away from me."

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Try, Try, Try 2

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics including adultery and trying to conceive. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: husband!Andy Barber, friend!Thor

masterlist - to be added

Summary: your husband puts high expectations on you but you don’t think you’ll ever be enough for him.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You’re not entirely enthused for the cooking class. The taint of Andy’s intentions follows you down to the community centre, that echoing reminder that you’re inadequate. There is a part of you that cherishes the distraction, the moment outside the house when you’re not mopping or tittering around to make sure everything is perfect. Even so, it’s only to make sure that you don’t give your husband another reason to rant. 

As you enter, you’re greeted by the rather bouncy instructor. She introduces herself a Barb. She’s plump and her pixie cut is died a shade of purplish red. You give her your name and she checks you off the list. 

You look around as she sends you off to find a work station. You’re drawn to a familiar face. You smile and cross the room. 

“Hey, Porsha,” you approach your neighbour. “I thought you’d be home with the twins.” 

She turns to preen at you. Her perfectly highlighted hair ripples in soft waves and you wouldn’t guess that she’s three months postpartum. She greets you with a tilt of her head. 

“Oh, hi, how are you?” 

“Um, okay. How are you feeling? How are the boys?” You ask. 

“A lot. Timothy’s still on his business trip so the nanny’s with the tots. I needed a break,” she explains with a sigh. You see her live-in nanny often; dark-haired woman often dragging out the garbage or schlupping round the stroller. “Mandy’s on her way. We signed up together.” She looks behind her at the counter, “I’m saving her a spot.” 

You glance over and realise each station is made only for two. You take the hint with grace. Her and Mandy were always close. In fact, all the women in the neighbourhood knew each other better than you knew any of them. You’re still the new one and your family is still incomplete. 

“Right, well, I hope you enjoy the class,” you smile. 

“Oh yes, I pumped before I came so I can enjoy some wine. You get a glass to cook with,” she chimes. 

“Ah, that’s... cool. Well, I’ll go find a place,” you point over your shoulder with your thumb. 

You turn and a squeal erupts across the room. Mandy taps furiously over to Porscha, passing you without notice, and the two bounce and hug. You could use some of that wine but you’re not drinking. You promised Andy. 

You find a station in the corner, far from your neighbours. You feel left out even if they don’t mean to exclude you. It’s hard not to when every time you see them, you’re just sort of there and more interested in each other. 

Barb’s full voice fills the room as she welcomes the newcomers. You focus on the counter top, taking in the sink, the cooktop, and the various pieces set out for your work. You’re not so sure about this anymore. You’ll go home and try it on your own then prove to Andy that you will always be mediocre. 

“Pardon,” a thunderous timbre pulls you from your self-pity. You raise your chin as you bat your lashes at the rather large man at the corner of the counter. He smiles. He’s familiar but you don’t think he’s from the neighbourhood, “do you mind if I share? Barb says we should have a partner and my brother declined my invite.” 

“Oh, um,” you look around. The other stations are full. You shrug, “sure, that’s okay.” 

“Wonderful,” he booms in his boisterous voice. You narrow your eyes at him and tilt your head as you try to pluck out where you know him from. 

He’s tall and broad, blonde hair past his shoulders, the front strands pulled back into a runic clip, and he wears a button-up that threatens to split as the buttons strain over his chest. He turns to stand parallel to you and grabs the tongs, clacking them contently. 

You sense the attention of another. You lean to see around the man as Porscha and Mandy whisper behind their hands and stare. You frown and teeter on your toes. 

“Forgive me,” he snaps the tongs again. “I’ve not introduced myself. Thor.” 

“Thor...” you repeat then give your name as his snags in your head. “Thor... you’re not...” you squint at him. 

“Hm, I hoped I’d not draw suspicion,” he tries to make himself smaller in a rather comical way for someone so big. “It is I, yes.” 

“What...” 

“I found this place on a map. I thought perhaps somewhere smaller might afford me some discretion,” he turns his head as he continues to toy with the tongs and he glances around at those peeking at him. “Your planet is rather small and reputations do spread far and wide.” 

“Right, uh, well, yeah, it must be awkward.” 

“Mm, it is not something I’m unused to. I am known across the nine realms and beyond.” He turns back. “But, since I have chosen to reside here for a time, I thought I might learn the customs. The food. I’ve been eating a lot of pizza and well...” he looks down and pats his stomach, the fabric just as taut there. “It’s accumulated.” 

You can’t help but laugh, “mm, pizza. I haven’t had any in ages.” 

“No? In New York, it is everywhere. I find myself inundated.” He declares. “I understand we are to cook... alfr-ee-doo.” 

“Alfredo,” you correct him. “Looks like we’ll be making our own pasta too,” you point at the press. 

“Pasta. Mmm, yes, I do enjoy the dish.” He nods as he scratches his beard with the tongs. He can’t seem to stop his fidgeting. “And what brings the lady to the cookery?” 

“Oh, uh, my husband signed me up,” you say, tucking your hands behind you.  

“He did? And he did not accompany you?” He inquires. “How unfortunate. Were she still speaking to me, I’d have asked my... former acquaintance Jane, but she is far too busy and wise for me. I must admit I was hesitant to attend alone.” 

You nod, “I’m sorry. That’s too bad.” 

“Not very bad. I’ve met you. A lovely young lady,” he proclaims and gestures to you with the tongs. “I can already see you will be a partner preferable to my brother. He is not very skilled at collaboration. I would need to mind the knives.” 

You chuckle again. It feels good to laugh. You only realise then, how long it’s been since you’ve done so genuinely. 

[tinfoil-jones]

Gravity Falls: What Did You Do? Ch. 1

Summary: “Nine Lives Lee”, a rare Stanley Pines who ended up on the other side of the portal instead of his brother, literally falls into the “Better World” that one dimension that most of the alternate versions of Stanford Pines tend to be jealous of and hold over Lee’s head as ‘proof’ that everyone would have been better off if he’d just done what his brother asked him. The Ford of this dimension, however, isn’t quite what he seems. And neither is his version of Stanley.

Rating: T+

Warnings:  Language, violence, medical related gore, and mentions of graphic violence. Cross-Posted on AO3 Here.

Disclaimer: Reverse Portal Stan "Nine Lives Lee" is owned by @urdadsceilingfan

This version of the Better World AU is owned by @mother-ofthe-universedraws

Ch.1

This isn’t the first time Lee’s stood at the ledge on the roof of a tall building, looking down, and contemplating his life and what it’s worth. How he got here. What he’s done so far. What his next move is. 

“Halt! You’re at the end of the line, old man.”

This isn’t the first time he’s been cornered by cops of a different dimension, either. He never bothered to learn what this particular organization liked to call themselves. Eventually, all of the acronyms and titles ran together, and it’d still be some echelon of police at the end of the day. After all, if it sounds like a pig, walks like a pig, and rolls around in shit like a pig, it’s a pig. Especially since some of the cops in this world were literal humanoid pigs; this version of Earth was half populated by regular humans, and the other half populated by anthropomorphic animals. 

At least they spoke his first language, English. He’s gotten better at learning languages over the years, having a sharper echoic memory than anyone would assume just by looking at him, but it was still annoying when he would go long stretches not able to understand anything because he didn’t know the local language. He really should get a universal translator one of these days. 

“Hands where we can see them!” He heard a multitude and clicks and the distinctive bzzt of electricity. Lee knew they were pulling out weapons on him, most likely handguns, tasers, and good ol’ fashioned nightsticks. He was pretty familiar with all of those, having been at the sending and receiving ends of them all. This version of Earth wasn’t advanced enough for energy based weaponry.

Lee slipped his portal gun into his jacket quickly and quietly, turning around as he did so. He slowly put his hands up in front of himself, in a defensive, if somewhat relaxed, guard.

“Up in the air, dirtbag!” The cop barked at him - quite literally, this particular officer is some humanoid dog. He noticed some of them had their eyes drawn to his right arm; his robotic one. He couldn’t blame them for being distracted, considering the tech here couldn’t have been advanced enough for a prosthetic like his.

Slowly Lee started to raise his hands.

And then he flipped them around with his middle fingers up, and did a free-fall backwards off of the ledge.

This isn’t the first time Lee’s known the view from halfway down.

But they didn’t call him Nine Lives Lee for nothing; because this also isn’t the first time Lee had opened a portal without the cops noticing until he’d already jumped.

“GET BACK HERE LEE!” One of the cops shouted at him as soon as they were able to sprint over to the ledge and look down at him, expecting a suicide attempt, only to be baffled by a swirling electric-blue vortex floating there, right in the path of Lee’s descent.

“See ya later sucker!” He called back, still keeping both middle fingers up even as bullets whizzed right past him but failed to quite make the mark. One lucky shot got him in in his robotic arm, but like most parallel Earth bullets, it just clinked right off.

The portal swallowed him up, and collapsed in on itself, winking right out of existence from Dimension-BoJ6

---

Lee had complicated feelings for Rick Sanchez. They were friends, rivals,  begrudging allies, enemies, lovers - sometimes all of those things at once. It’s a long story, a few decades of a long story in fact. But he never underestimated Rick’s brilliance. At one point in his travels, Rick had approached him; he needed some parts from a heavily guarded facility, and told Lee if he could get them without dying he would build him his own portal gun. Rift-Hunting was long and exhausting and he could go months to years stuck in a dimension before finding one, so of course Lee took the job. He’d had his trusty portal gun ever since.

However, for all of Rick’s undeniable genius, for the life of him Lee could not figure out why that dumbass never made portals that you could clearly see through. The guy had an entire civilization of alternate versions of himself, there was no way they couldn’t have cobbled their big brains and even bigger egos together and figured it out. Lee was still convinced they were just that dedicated to their sci-fi aesthetic.

Most of the time, both sides of the portal created by the gun were oriented the same - if you generated a portal two feet off of the ground and vertically upright, it’d be the same when you went through it. If you made a portal into the ground, usually you would fall through a floor and/or ceiling. This wasn’t always the case, however.

By making a portal horizontal, and mid-air up forty floors, Lee had expected to continue to free fall; he would still have plenty of time between falling through the portal and hitting the ground to get himself properly oriented and get his emergency landing gear in time.

This time, the ground was less than five feet below him.

“Ough!” Lee grunted, the wind knocked out of him as he landed on his back onto a concrete floor, he also felt a sharp burst of pain in the back of his head when that also smacked against the dusty concrete, the blow slightly softened by his beanie. “...Ouch.”

Sweet Moses, he knew he was up there in years but did he really need to get humbled by a lower back pain flare? The impact has caused the muscles there to start spasming, and he knew it’d take hours to stop on its own if he didn’t do something about it.

Lee grimaced as he sat up, and took in his darkened surroundings as he reached down to his utility belt, feeling around for the right compartment. Appeared to be some kind of basement, with abandoned shelves, desks, and tables. It was dusty down here, but not a thick blanket, so it was not abandoned, just seldom visited. It looked like the room was slightly in ruins, because there were loose pieces of the concrete wall and floor scattered around. There was a peculiar structure behind him, where his portal had spat him out; some inverted triangle with a hole in the center-.

Lee's entire body froze for a split second; it wasn’t like him to let himself get caught off guard, but he knew exactly what he was looking at. After all, it was the very same structure he’d been sucked into almost thirty years ago, jettisoning him from his original dimension, and his twin brother who he’d just been fighting with-.

All of these years later and the sizzle from the structure he’d kicked Ford into, and the horrific, pained scream from his brother that followed still haunted him when he thought about it.

Rising slowly due to his flaring pain, Lee’s flesh hand pulled a syringe from his medical pouch, and his prosthetic hand brought his portal gun close to his face so he could read the console home screen for the information it’d gathered as soon as he fell into this dimension:

[€ΔŘŦĦ ¥€ΔŘ: 2010

₣Ř€Ω ΜΔŦĆĦ: Ň€ǤΔŦƗV€

Đ€ŞƗǤŇΔŦƗØŇ: Ǥβ-1100

₣Ř€€ ŴƗ₣Ɨ? ŇØ]

Damn. The negative frequency match told him what didn’t surprise him, but still disappointed him; this wasn’t his dimension. Well, you could only get so lucky when you set the destination to ‘random’ and ‘habitable atmosphere’. Although, hasn’t he heard of Dimension BG-1100 before? He had an inkling he’d at least heard that designation before.

Lee rose fully to his feet, grimacing as the sharp pain shooting up from his lower back, he uncapped his syringe and, clenched in fist, he brought it under his coat and shifted his belt line low enough to expose the skin underneath, and using that same fist as a landmark to measure below his hip. He didn’t bother to count down this time, he just gave himself the injection.

“⋔⍜⏁⊑⟒⍀⎎⎍☊☍⟒⍀!” Lee hissed harshly under his breath; he even didn’t remember exactly what that language was called, because he’d learned it five or so dimensions ago, but he was very familiar with that specific phrase because of how frequently he’d used it when he was frustrated, angry, in pain, or really didn’t like the person he was talking to. As soon as the syringe was completely out of the cocktail of ketorolac and cyclobenzaprine, the needle automatically retracted, and he sighed in relief as his pain started to dissipate. He put the spent syringe into a different pouch; he used to not be opposed to just tossing these where he was, until some people started using those to get his DNA to track him.

Speaking of tracking-

There was a glowing red dot in the corner of the massive room. Lee halted all movement, and strained to see what the source was, which wasn’t easy given the room being dark. Whether it was a camera, a drone, or some other kind of sci-fi security device, he knew when something was recording him. 

The sci-fi adventuring badass in him wanted to destroy it with his blaster, quick and easy. But Lee wouldn’t have gotten this far if he wasn’t practical; his blaster had limited charges, and he didn’t need to run out mid-fight just because he’d decided to be extra. There wasn’t just one type of quick and easy, after all. 

He did a precursory scan of his surroundings and- aha! He knelt over and picked up a loose chunk of concrete- good thing this place didn’t seem to ever get cleaned or fixed up. Straining slightly, he held the chunk in his robotic hand, focused on the red dot in the corner, and chucked the piece of concrete at it as hard as his prosthetic arm would let him - which was a lot harder than his flesh arm could manage.

The red dot went out as the chunk made contact, and the piece of technology that emitted it in the corner fell to the ground in pieces. Quick and easy, and he didn’t have to use any of his stuff. Still, he’d already been recorded, he needed to make himself scarce before trouble came looking for him.

He slid his gaze to the side and up when he heard the distinct sound of locks and chains being messed with. 

Great.

He looked around for something to crouch behind.

From upstairs, he could hear the rusty squeak from a door opening, and sliding across the floor, followed by semi-sharp footsteps descending down the stairs, picking up in sound enough Lee could assess what he was hearing.

‘Dress shoes’ He deduced - not boots or sneakers, so whoever this was at a disadvantage for running and fighting. So fight and flight were both still on the table. Good, he liked having options.

The distinct shape of a human took the last step from the stairs into the basement, and for a moment just stood there. Lee could see that their gaze was fixed onto the inverted triangle of the portal.

Tall. Thin- a variant of McGucket, perhaps? If this was his brothers basement on another parallel Earth, Fiddleford McGucket was a constant in his life. Most of the time he was batshit crazy, but in some dimensions he’d retained his sanity. 

But every time he was a genius, and every time he had some gadget on him with the word ‘Death’ in it and there were only so many chances Lee was willing to take.

The figures back was turned to him as they walked forward and felt around the walls, likely looking for a lightswitch. They had still, jerky movements; joint pain. Yeah, if this was McGucket he’d be getting up there in years just like him.

Lee slid along the opposite side of the room, slinking around the shadows and willing his steps to be as silent as possible.

He’d made it all the way to the base of the stairs when he’d misjudged a turn and his prosthetic arm smacked clanked against the metal banister of the stairs. He inwardly cursed; on if the things they don’t tell you about prosthetics is that is can sometimes mess up your spacial awareness, something you’d really need in the dark.

“Who’s there?” The figure asked and Lee didn’t have time to take in the details of their voice because he saw them point something long and cylindrical at him-

Like a shotgun.

In an instant he’d run over and tackled the figure, and they both tumbled to the floor, knocking the rifle out of the figure's hand, while the other hand flipped on the switch on the wall during the initial tackle.

The lights in the basement flicked in slowly, but that was enough time for Lee to straddle the figure and reach for his-

“St-.... Stanley?” The voice below him quivered, like a choked up whisper of surprise and awe, making Lee freeze up right before his hand could grasp his knife. 

That was a name he never used anymore.

And that was a voice he’d heard before, it was rusty and heavy but-

Lee dares to look up from his side - and he saw that the object he’d knocked out of the mans hand was not a rifle but a cane - and to the face of the man he’d knocked down. A prominent nose and cleft chin, gray hair streaked in silver, and, most importantly, it was almost exactly the same as his own face.

He’d met many variants of this man throughout the multiverse, and it was never a warm reception; there was always hostility and resentment from the other end. But this man looked at him like he was seeing something that amazed but terrified him.

“Ford?”

To be continued…

---

NOTES

-“View From Halfway Down” is a reference to Bojack Horseman. And yes, the world Lee was in initially was the Bojack Horseman universe. The name of the dimension, BoJ6 comes from “BoJack”, and 6 from the number of seasons.

-The scene where Lee escapes is a direct rederence to this art of him

-The Portal Guns text is from the Delta font from https://pixelied.com/font-generator/discord if you have trouble reading it, here’s what it said:

[Earth Year: 2010

FREQ MATCH: NEGATIVE

Designation: GB1100

Free WiFi? No]

-Dimension-GB1100 is the designation for the “Better World” AU because in Caesar Cipher with shift 5, GB = BW or "Better World". "1100" is for "IIOO" or the initials in "International Institute of Oddology".

-The language used by Lee in the beginning is from Alien Speech Translator

-Ketorolac is a nonsteroidal anti-inflammatory drug (NSAID) used to reduce inflammation and pain and often used for acute back pain, and Cyclobenzaprine is a muscle relaxer that can treat pain and muscle spasms. Stan probably carries like a dozen vials of a personalized mix that he acquires through stealing various means.

-I thought it’d be interesting if compared to Stanford’s photographic memory (having a highly detailed memory of things you see), Lee had echoic memory (highly detailed memory of things you hear), which is what helped him learn to pick up languages easily, and take in his surroundings when his vision was impaired (and considering he went through the portal without glasses, he needed that skill). It’s also ironic, considering that canon Stan uses a hearing aid.

[probablysimpledreams]

UA Touya has been on the brain so much lately

Enji refused to get him in on recommendations (and yes he becomes pissed years later when he learns Shoto was admitted on recommendations), so what does Touya do?

He passes the exam with a flawless score, getting into the Hero Course. He’s one of the strongest in his class. He’s so driven and passionate during training. He’s everything you’d want to see in a hero.

However, his attitude plus alternative style plus quirk makes fellow students…weary of him. He’s known to be rude. He only hangs out with people from other schools. He’s covered in burn scars and grafts.

Sadly, this starts many rumors. Shit like “did you know Touya is in a gang?” and “I heard he beats up kids…some hero he will be!” and “That Touya would be better off a villain than hero.” Due to all this plus all his energy focused on becoming a top hero, one no could ever forget, he keep to himself while at school.

So it’s a huge surprise when one day at lunch he finds you standing in front of him. Touya always ate outside in the courtyard where he could blast his music without any teachers yelling at him. He’s even more shocked when you ask if you can join him.

Why was a pretty thing like you talking to him? Didn’t you hear what they all say about him?

He’s suspicious, not sure what your motive here is. You explain that you wanted to eat outside because the weather was so nice for once, and while you were looking for a spot to sit you overheard his music and wanted to listen. His suspicions don’t fade, but he allows you to enter into his little world for the next hour. You two sit together and listen to his playlist, occasionally discussing the song/album before it fades into the next.

This exchange continues for the next few weeks. You both begin really looking forward to lunch everyday. You two begin exchanging songs, homework answers, even phone numbers. You two wave at each other in the hallway, exchanging small “hi”s and smiles. You’re walking alongside friends while he’s always alone. Huh.

One day your friend watches as Touya calls for you in the hallway. You run over to him, excitedly accepting the CD you asked him to burn for you earlier that week. You run back over to your friend and that’s when you learn the rumors. How he’s this big scary villainous guy, how you shouldn’t trust him.

But that’s nothing like the Touya you knew!

So that same day at lunch, you brought up the rumors. He seemed disappointed you finally heard them, thinking it meant his time with you was over. But instead you asked him to answer each question fully honest.

“Are you in a gang?” You laid down. He followed, body laying the other way but head right next to yours.

“Nah,” he chuckled and looked up at the sky. “My friends are just losers and refer to us as ‘The League.’ The only time things get violent is game night.”

You laugh at his answer, making his cheeks go pink and a slight pout form on his lips. You then ask your next question.

“Do you really get into fights with children?”

“Ohmygod it was ONE FUCKING TIME,” he sighs, rubbing his forehead. “Shit wait that sounds bad.”

You laugh harder this time. “Touya what the fuck?”

“Okay okay look my youngest brother can be a handful. I took him to the playground one time and some badass kids made him cry,” he explains, feeling embarrassed at the memory.

“Touya no you didn’t-”

“I didn’t hurt them!! I just showed off my flame and made sure they knew to leave my brother alone….not my fault they started crying.” The look on his face is too cute as his embarrassment is clear. You can tell he’s not use to opening up like this and letting people truly see him. Your heart fluttered realizing you were becoming one of the few people who get to see him like this. Who gets to truly see Touya.

“Okay okay now final question,” you bite your lips nervously. “And you don’t have to answer it if you don’t wanna.” His eyebrow rose at your words, face turning to look at you. “How did you get your scars?”

It’s silent for a few seconds. 10 minutes go by. Then 20. Almost 30 before you speak up again.

“I’m sorry, pretend I never asked that. I just was-”

“It’s pathetic,” his breath is shakey. He’s facing the sky again, hand running through his hair. “It happened when I was a kid. I was desperate for my dad’s attention and overused my quirk a few times. One night I must have really overdid it. I don’t remember much from that day. I just woke up a while later with these gross skin grafts and my mom sobbing. Really haven’t seen the old man since. If he’s around he’s just with Shoto anyways and,” he takes a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. “Ah sorry I started rambling there.”

He turns to face, examining your face to gauge your reaction to the real him. He’s scanning your face for any signs of disappointment, disgust, dislike. His stomach turned at the idea of you feeling pity for him as well. God he really has to ruin everything didn’t he?

“You must be disappointed to learn I’m such a loser huh?”

But as usual you surprise him, flashing him a sweet smile as you respond, “nah, I like it. I think you’re cute.”

You then learned one more thing about Touya: being complimented makes his cheeks go dark red.

[quarterlifekitty]

Sliding into your dms because your pretending to be a man idea got into my brain and won't leave me alone. We'll have to suffer together okay.

Imagine you're a daughter of some lowly destitute baron, he died and now all you have is a house and your brother, Alex. You have to sell the house because your father had debt that hasn't been settled. Luckily, you'll still have money left from the sale. Unluckily, the money is not much. You can either use it to send Alex to the royal academy or you can use it as your marriage dowry, of which your prospect isn't great anyway since you're poor and barely even a noble. Alex wants you to use the money, he's long been disillusioned with the king (Shepherd) and he wants to go help the neighbouring kingdom fight off their invader. He'll sleep easier knowing you have a roof over your head. Still, the thought of being married to some strange old men makes you want to throw up. You think you'd rather die. But you also don't want to stop Alex from pursuing his dream. So you and Alex came up with the idea that will satisfy you both: you will take his place in the royal academy and he can leave in peace, knowing you'll be safer in the academy than alone without a house in the countryside. He'll tell people that he's sent you to live with some distant relatives somewhere.

Years pass and you thrive in the academy. You graduate and despite having no connections or wealth, your capability lands you a job inside the palace. It's nothing fancy, and likely you won't go very far working under a neglected concubine, but she's very nice and funny. The salary is also good enough that you think if you keep working for a few years you can buy a small house and retire back to the countryside. Maybe you'll even stay longer just to accompany your mistress.

All in all, life is nice and uneventful. The great nobles and the king might be fighting, but you and your mistress are so far down the political ladder it barely affects you. Or so you thought and so it should have been, if not for your mistress starting a genuine love affair with Marchioness Laswell.

Your mistress' affection for you causes Laswell to pay attention to you. And unfortunately for you, she's seen the real Alex before. She knows you're a fraud. You think you're done for, but Laswell says she understands why you do it. She says she won't let the public learn your secret.

And she doesn't, because Duke Price isn't the public. He's just a Duke in desperate need of a wife. Someone to help him escape the disadvantageous match that will only put him under Shepherd's control once more. What a good luck he has to meet you, a noble who is unaffiliated with king, at this exact time. Surely you'll be willing to help him out? Being a duchess is certainly better than pretending to be a guy. It's definitely less risky, he says. Do you know that using someone else's identity can get you to jail? What if the king finds out and thinks you're plotting treason? Off with your pretty little head then. Surely being his duchess would be safer. He'll protect you. Take care of you. Spoil you, even. You and your good birthing hips and however many kids you two will have.

TLDR, you pretend to be a guy to escape marrying strange old men only to marry another (worse) strange old man

So first of all. I LOVE THIS. And now for my paltry additions….

I think that once Price found out about you, he became extremely fixated for a number of reasons. One? He’d met you before. He visited the academy as an alumni, occasionally donated to the institute, and would visit to check on the allocation of those funds.

And he remembers seeing you, swimming in your too-large uniform. Absolutely decimating your studies. In his observation of the academy, he’d unwittingly found himself following you around to your different lessons and seeing you sweep the floor with every other student. It was clear you were extremely bright, and he heard the whisperings about you.

A shame about your lowly birth. You might’ve made a fine tactician.

Price, as a rather meritocratic man, wanted to have you in his service as soon as you graduated. But as with many of the finest things in the kingdom, you were plucked up and handed off as something of a present to one of the king’s newer, shinier consorts.

So when Laswell starts her dalliance with that very consort, it sparks a memory in Price. And he asks after you. Which gets Laswell to commit you more to memory when she meets with you. And suddenly it’s quite obvious. She tells Price all about it, with amusement on her face, at one of their weekly meetings.

Suddenly there’s a little click in his brain. Like everything’s slotting into place. He was denied you once, in one way, and it won’t happen again. Now he can have you in all ways. With the forces at his disposal, and your brilliance in tactics and writing, he may well have the makings of some serious political sabotage. With him as your husband, you could soar in a way your class and gender never would’ve allowed. And at the end of it all? You’re quite pretty. A new dress and a circlet for that boyish cut of hair and you’d be bewitching. He was eager to see what those loose tunics had been hiding.

You can’t refuse his offer. Suddenly, Alex is called by letter to care for an ailing relative who has no other means of support. The same relative that had supposedly taken you in. And John quite selflessly takes you in following, and from a public perspective, it all went so naturally after that. What could be more heartwarming and dreamy? A generous noble taking in a common born girl in an act of charity, and the two falling in love, enough to defy the gaps in their stations and marry. It’s the kind of thing that only happens in fairy tales.

But despite all of John’s political aspirations, he knows it must appear as if nothing is amiss. That means doing what any noble would do with a young, pretty bride. It means spoiling you with all the finery he can… and it means making sure that you’re with child within the year.

[blackmoonowl]

prompt 27 with mammon if i may

"𝐌𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐦!"

ꨄ Pairing: Mammon x reader

ꨄ Summary: Jealous Mammon hours.

ꨄ Word Count: 1302 words

Mammon could give Leviathan a run for his money when it came to jealousy. Well, over you, anyway.

So, when he had the chance to pull you away to an event, just together, he took it without thinking. The avatar of Greed knocked on your door multiple times.

"Oi, human!" The demon called out, opening the door without waiting for a reply. You had just gotten ready when he practically burst through the door.

"Yeah, yeah." You grumbled as you put on your shoes, walking over to him. "So, what's the big deal, you're going out to gamble again and need a cover from Lucifer?"

"Oi, I don't need a human protectin' me from Lucifer. The great Mammon does just fine on his own!" Mammon's cheeks heated up as he huffed, averting his gaze. "We're goin' out on the town, you and me."

"So, you earned some money with your schemes?" You teased, giving him a little nudge as you followed him out into the hall. Mammon rolled his eyes behind his sunglasses, shrugging off your comment. He had to get you out of the house without his brothers noticing. Luckily, he had taken care of it already. Sneaking out wouldn't be the hard part.

"Say what ya want, but the Great Mammon invited you, and ya can't say no! Now c'mon before the others find out we're goin' out. I ain't in the mood to have 'em tag along."

"Where are we even going?" You questioned as Mammon kept his eyes peeled, tuned into the silence around the house.

"I ain't tellin', it's a surprise," was all you got as a reply from him. Mammon unlocked the front door, ushering you out before following you and shutting the door again, Mission successful, he had you all to himself tonight.

Although it was always dark in the Devildom, the nights were much darker. Your footsteps sounded steady next to his. Despite the lack of light, Mammon still wore his sunglasses, his eyes safely hidden behind them. He had mustered up the courage to demand you hold his hand, so you wouldn't get lost. Mammon knew you didn't buy that excuse; you had been to the Devildom quite often after all. The avatar of greed swallowed thickly as he glanced down to where your fingers were laced with his. The club he'd been meaning to visit with you wasn't too far away. But with his heart practically beating out of his chest, it felt like forever.

When he finally stepped foot in the building, among the flashing lights and loud music, he nearly felt at home. Demons were drinking, dancing and flirting among each other.

"This is what you wanted to show me?" You questioned, glancing around the space. Mammon stood proud beside you, nodding excitedly.

"Yeah, this place just opened a couple weeks back, figured I might as well show ya," he grinned as he put his arm around your shoulder. "Just you and me, without any of my annoyin' brothers here to bother us."

"I guess it has its charm," you mumbled, your voice barely audible over the music. "I'll give it a shot."

Mammon grinned when you gave in. "I knew ya would cave. I know what you like, bein' your first and all!"

You shot him a look at that comment. You had gotten used to it at this point, but it still caught you off guard every now and then. Mammon didn't seem bothered in the slightest, flashing you a grin before disappearing into the crowd, likely to get the both of you some drinks.

You decided to quickly head to the bathroom, seeing as Mammon would probably keep every second of your time occupied once he came back. It was less crowded there, making you feel more at ease.

Once you exited the bathroom and made your way to the main area, you almost ran into another demon. He looked properly buzzed, a glass of demonus held in his hand. The demon took a moment to stabilize himself, flashing you a grin as you awkwardly walked past him, stumbling over your feet in the commotion.

"Whoa there, easy," he chuckled, leaning on the doorframe for extra support, catching your arm so he could gently hoist you back up. He seemed clearly interested, yet there was no real malicious intent in his demeanour.

"Thanks, sorry about that, didn't see you there," you muttered, slightly embarrassed. The demon shook his head, smiling still.

"Don't sweat it, though I'd like to think I'm hard to miss." He gave you a wink and brushed his hand through his dark hair, causing you to snort slightly. The demon peered at you with narrowed eyes. "Wait a minute... I recognize you. You're that human, aren't ya?"

"In the flesh," you responded, causing him to smile wider. The demon shook his head slightly.

"How'd I not notice that sooner.. lucky me, you're like a celebrity out here," the demon mumbled, looking at his empty cup. "Hey, how about I buy you a drink. Y'know, for peace sake and all that."

You didn't get a chance to respond when you heard someone clear their throat behind you. There stood Mammon, looking like he could just fly at the other demon. Your smile faded; this wasn't going to end well.

"Oi, whaddya think you're doin', this is my human, go get your own!" Were the first words that came out of Mammon's mouth. The demon you had been talking to raised his brow, still leaned on the doorframe.

"Damn, I didn't know humans could be owned, last time I checked you're the one on a leash," the demon grinned. That only seemed to anger Mammon further as he stood right behind you now, allowing you feel his hot breath on your ear.

"Oh now you're really in for it! Don't ya know who I am?" Mammon snapped, placing his hand on your shoulder to try and nudge you aside. Although you were much weaker as a human, you stayed put, pushing back.

The other demon opened his mouth to speak but you shot him a look, and he wisely kept his words to himself. Mammon was still pissed, though. When you wouldn't budge, he hissed.

"Move away from the door and let me at him!" The demon's possessive growl sounded, but you shook your head. By now a few other demons were looking, though none of them were keen to call attention to themselves when it came to one of the seven rulers of the underworld.

"Don't make me use the pact," you gritted your teeth at Mammon, causing the demon to finally relent. With one final death glare at the other demon, he pulled you with him. You showed the demon an apologetic smile as you went.

"What was that for?" you huffed at the demon as the two of you stepped outside. Mammon didn't seem remorseful in the least, crossing his arms.

"What do ya mean? He was eyein' you like a piece of candy, what was I supposed to do?" Mammon grumbled, and you sighed.

"No need to be so jealous, Mammon, you'll still always be my favorite demon." you replied, ruffling the demons hair, who gently swatted your hand away, rolling his eyes, although he couldn't feel the fuzzy feeling welling up in him.

"I better be," he mumbled, causing you to crack a slightly smile, tilting your head to the side.

"Night's still young, why don't we spend more time together?" you offered. "Y'know, to show you there's nothing to be jealous of."

Mammon pursed his lips, seemingly thinking. But you both knew he was going to take the chance without hesitation, he always did. A small grin appeared on his face.

"Damn right we will, c'mon. I know another place."

𓅓 Masterpost

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[witherby]

little mouse being biologically hals would be soso cute and the baby would probably be even happier then in little wayne au because hal is silly and goofy

Yes, we love the silly and the goofy and the fluff BUT. the angst phone is ringing and therefore I must answer. So picture this:

Omega!Hal comes back to earth for a Heat and shacks up with a hot alpha for a couple days. He took birth control, they wore a condom, the whole shebang. Two months later the morning sickness comes. Hal's immediately thinking oh fuck, I don't know how to Parent, I don't have the time or the money to Parent, does Oa even grant leave for this, what the fuck do I do?

And because he's stubborn and proud, he doesn't tell anybody. The League thinks he just caught some kinda space cold and he rolls with it. No need to worry about his suit fitting weird because he literally wills it into existence on his body, so that's easy to hide too.

But, as we all know, Batman is not fucking stupid.

"You're either pregnant or getting really fat, really fast."

"Oh my god?? If you're gonna out me like that at least say congratulations????"

"Congratulations. Did you file for maternity leave?"

And that's how Hal finds out the League offers maternity leave. Because of course Bruce would make sure they offer maternity leave. He also mentions his other options, like adoption or abortion, whatever Hal feels like he needs to do, and not to worry about insurance covering it.

Hal is just relieved he doesn't have to hide his belly anymore. He gets to vent to somebody about the pregnancy now that Bruce knows, and he expects Bruce to give him stupid answers like "train more to maintain your physique after the birth" or "shoulda worn two condoms," but He's A Dad, so his advice is incredibly insightful.

They hang out a lot during this time. Oa doesn't make him fly out for missions for the foreseeable future, and the League benches him too. He's got nothing but time, and Bruce offered up the Manor to crash in, so there's where he spends most of his time. Naturally this gives them ample opportunity to get together, and suddenly it's not Hal's baby anymore, it's theirs.

The boys are all in. Alfred is picking out paints for the nursery. Jason volunteers to move back in to babysit.

And then, when you're all done baking, out comes you!! Welcome to the world, little guy! Your mom and dad and brothers and grandpa love you so much! You are the spitting image of Hal where it counts — the hair, the eyes, the height — and the other features are from your sire. You're cute as a button and loved unconditionally :3

[ribbcnpoems]

A not so tragic ballet.

pairing: bestfriend! eddie x henderson! reader word count: 1k warnings: bestfriends-to-lovers, everyone knows, mutual pining, after the upside down, fluff, swearing, no use of y/n, unrequited love (not really), first kiss, one sexual implication. summary: After many requests on his hand, you finally went to a Corroded Coffin show but didn't warn him. Maybe it would be for the best?

It's been months since Eddie asked you to come to a show but crowds weren't your favorite thing in the world, especially since the band had blew-off and there was more people at each show. But tonight, you chose to go without telling him, to surprise him. If only you knew you would be the one to be surprised.

Dressed in the leather skirt and the Hellfire tee that he loved seeing you in, you looked at yourself in the mirror for what felt like the hundredth time. Maybe it was? You had started to get dressed at four in the afternoon even though the show was only at eight in the evening. The thing was, you didn't tell him the whole truth about why you didn't come to these shows, it was mostly because there were lots of people but a tiny part of you also was sure you couldn't bare with him flirting with the girls in the crowd. You wouldn't call yourself in love, but your brother sure would for you as he peeped through your room.

"Isn't it too much?" you asked him when he glanced at you with a smirk. "Well, you go there with your date, don't you? It's cool to get dressed for a man you love." he shrugged and you gulped without having a chance to answer and lie to him, making his eyes widen. "Wait- You don't have a? Holy shit, that's-" he didn't finish his sentence, laughing at you and cursing at how funny this all was, making you frown. "What the fuck, Dustin? Stop laughing at me, respect your fucking elders, kid!" but that didn't work, making his laughter even louder as he brushed off your annoyance, his eyes gleaming with malice. "You'll see! You look great tho! Don't forget the other eye, dumbass. I'm going to Mike's!" and with that, he closed the door behind him, letting you completely confused.

You chose to ignore that annoying little gremlin and go back to the next step of making yourself presentable, drawing a line of eye-liner that had to be even to the other, although it took multiple tries you finally managed to nail-it. Looking at the clock, you realized there was still two hours before the show and you sighed, going on the patio to smoke a cigarette, happy that Dustin wasn't here anymore to call it gross. Your nerves were a mess but you managed to eat some of the left-over lasagnas from last night without staining the shirt your bestfriend gifted you. Finally, you hopped in your car, ready to pick-up Robin, Nancy and Jonathan. Steve had the duty to bring the kids and you realized that you missed-out on a lot by not going to more of the shows when everyone did. The atmosphere in the car when the four of you were finally together was odd, Nancy and Robin whispering at each-other, Jonathan smiling fondly whenever he looked at you, but you tried to also ignore that.

You had to admit, they were always right about his talent and people loved the band for a reason. You were halfway into the set-list and he still didn't saw you as you stood behind the others.

"Hell, it's time for the foolish unrequited love part, isn't it?" The curly-haired spoke after the fifth song as people acclaimed him and you couldn't help and did yourself. Dustin and El glanced at you from afar and you frowned at them but they just giggled, turning towards the stage as the music went on. The air felt heavy suddenly and you recognized the chords of a song of his that you never got to hear the lyrics of. Suddenly, Robin was standing next to you and he could easily see you if he peeked at them, but you weren't mad at her for doing so. You just stood there, bobbing your head at the music. As soon as the lyrics came, your jaw dropped, it was more like a ballad and you started to dance slowly to yourself. When he saw you, he smiled fondly and never took his eyes off you, even if you could see his anxiety through his gaze. You didn't saw that all your friends were now looking at you too, you felt them stare but you were being way to mesmerized by the singer in front of you.

" Your silhouette lingers like smoke in my heart,

A tragic ballet where we drift apart..."

Now you understood, he was singing to you, for you, and you couldn't help it as your smile widened and your heart started beating way faster than it should have. He was singing to you. The last chorus went on and you couldn't help but mouth the words that were already engraved in your brain. As the music faded and the show was coming to an end, Eddie never left his eyes off you to look at the crowd, eyeing you shamelessly and you laughed when Garreth had to give the goodbyes to the crowd. "I think he's having a stroke. Anyways, thank you for having us tonight, you rock!" Was all he said before the lights faded and he pushed your bestfriend with his foot, making him take a few steps towards you. The heat spreading in your cheeks was unmistakable but you couldn't care less, he thought his feeling were hopeless as he sang it, and you understood why Dustin laughed at you earlier, thinking that yours were the ones who were unrequited.

"You came, I didn't- I," he stuttered, waving a hand through his curls, "Why aren't you running away, Henderson?" he frowned at the way you stood there, just smiling at him, unable to answer anything and when he felt Robin's gaze on him, turned around to see her mouthing some words. "Oh." was the only sound that came from him afterwards and you repeated, "Oh. So, a ballerine?" you smirked and it was his turn to blush furiously. "A ballerine." he confirmed, tensing when you wrap your arms around his neck without a warning, whispering in his ear, "Lyrics aren't accurate, though. The ballerine would very much like you to take her around the world."

He shivered, well aware that you peeked on the double meaning of the sentence and unable to contain himself anymore, his lips crashed against yours as he pulled you closer to him.

notes: hiii. ok so i finally managed to write a bit, i hope you liked it and please, don't forget that my requests are opened ! also i'm more of a steddie person so i'm sorry i just cringed ok....