#yes i’m Going Through Something leave me alone

[aspen-charminghearts]

Just a thought, I want a scene in D5 where Red talks to Chloe about the first time she watched someone get beheaded and her making it as some reason for an unhealthy coping mechanism and Chloe talks through to Red why that’s not okay (what happened and the coping mechanism), and that if she could she’d go through both ends of the earth to stop every bad thing that happened to Red, then they hug (and kiss).

We’re not getting this but a guy can dream, I want this something along the lines of..

“I want to know what’s going on with you.”

“I.. it’s hard to explain.”

“Please talk to me Red.”

“You remember how my mom made me give the beheading order for your mom?”

“I won’t ever forget that.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time she did that, I refused every single time. Your mom was the first time I had given in..”

“Red-”

“I’m not done, every single time I refused I payed for it severely. She’d been trying to get me to give those orders since I was 3. After I saw my first beheading.”

“You.. saw someone die when you were 3?”

“First thing that I remember. Ever since then I’ve always made it my mission to never get attached to another person ever again, rabbits forbid I get attached then have to see them go.”

“What are you saying?”

“…”

“Red?”

“I’m saying I’m attached to you Chloe! I love you! And I’m scared I’m going to lose you! That’s why I’ve been pushing you away. Everyone leaves and you have yet to leave and it scares me, so I’ve been preparing.”

“Red- Red look at me- Yes there you go. You are a survivor, I’m so proud of you for that. But all that bad stuff that happened, it’s not going to happen ever again. Not as long as I’m here. It’s going to be okay, I’m not going anywhere, ever.”

“But Chloe. You have to understand, I love you. Do you know how scary that is?”

“And I love you too. It’s okay to be scared, we’ll go through it together, you’re not alone this time.”

And then they kiss. That my friends is how I think GlassHeart happened.

[lovebittenbyevans]

Fuel In The Fire | Ch. 3

Summary: You had a on and off relationship with Geto Suguru while being in college again. You juggled seeing him when you can until Gojo Satoru came into your life. Things get complicated when you tried to keep the relationship with Geto going and tried to keep a distance from being around Gojo. You began to wonder if you can actually see a real future with Geto or is it too late to moved forward into a new direction

Pairing: F1driver! Gojo Satoru x collegestudent! Female Reader x F1driver! Geto Suguru

Warnings: cursed words, angst

Author note: thanks for the comments I have been receiving. This is Geto point of view.

Series Masterlist

Chapter 3

Geto sat in the team hospitality’s suite while the other drivers did their own thing to relax. He was scrolling through his phone looking at pictures on your instagram page.

Sometimes he can’t believe how lucky he is to have you in his life but he also noticed that you still have pictures of you and Gojo together from years ago. He always thought there was something between you two but he blocked it out of his mind.

What was it about him? He always thinks that.

He was looking at some more pictures on your Instagram page when he saw a text message come up on his phone.

You: I can’t make it this weekend.

You: I’m sorry, babe. Good luck

He was about to reply to your text message, but someone interrupted him. “Trouble in love paradise again, Geto?”

Geto looked away from his phone and saw Choso seated next to him on the empty chair. “We are just fine, Choso.”

Choso did not believe him at all. “Are you sure? Because you are looking a bit bitter forsome reason.”

He rolls his eyes. “Yes, I am not bitter.”

Choso shot him a look. “Y/N, not coming this time?” He can read him like a book. Geto was not hard to read unlike Choso who knows him so well.

Geto sighs, feeling annoyed. “It’s fine.”

“It’s fine my ass.” Choso let out a laugh. “I know you G.”

He scoffs and returns to browsing through his phone when Choso speaks to him. “You and Y/N have been on and off for years and I can see the way you look at her. But what about you and that girl, huh?” Choso knew Geto was not just seeing you.

It wasn’t a secret that Geto was seeing someone else while trying to make it work with you for a few years now. Only a few of his teammates knew about her.

“She isn’t anything special.” Geto half-lied.

Choso raised an eyebrow. “If she’s not then why the fuck you keep letting her make a fool out of herself for you?”

Geto stopped browsing through Gojo's Instagram page, where he saw photographs of you on his page, with his attention on Choso. “I am not making her a fool. I just enjoy some extra company.”

“Extra–” Choso trailed off. “The world is going to find out sooner or later.”

Geto huffed, disregarding him, while getting up from the couch and handing his phone to his assistant. “We have a race to do.” He walked out hearing Choso chuckled behind him.

He didn’t have a fear the media was going to find out about her. He truly was worried about losing you to someone else the most.

He continued to stroll down the hall until he collided with someone hard. He glances and sees Gojo in front of him. “Gojo.” He noticed Toji and Nanami behind him.

“Geto.” Gojo clears his throat and walks past him.

Geto nods and says something else. “Snow white bitch!” Gojo stops walking for a second and slowly turns around to look at him. “Excuse me?”

“Oh shit…” Choso said behind him.

Toji and Nanami glance carefully at Geto. “Geto, don’t you–” Gojo interrupted Nanami and jerked his head. “I’m a bitch! Very rich coming from you Geto.”

His voice was getting loud

“I’m just saying leave Y/N alone. She is doing just fine without you.” He says.

Gojo let out a fake laugh. “Oh, is she now?” He took a step toward him. “If she was doing so fine without me. Why you got another whore to keep you occupied until y/n is ready for you again, huh? Why does she see you as a joke and not her man to come home to.”

Geto's blood is boiling as his jaw clenches. “At least I know how to keep my bitches happy and my sunshine in check with where I see them in my life!” Gojo raised his voice a little loud.

Gojo was unaware that Geto's fists had made contact with his face. “Fuck you! Asshole!” Geto attacked him again as he shoved Gojo to the floor and jumped on top of him, punching him repeatedly.

“YOU THINK Y/N NEEDS YOU! YOU ARE NOTHING BUT A SCUM AND A PATHETIC NOBODY!” Geto barked, punching Gojo again.

All he could see was red. He was tired of being treated as a joke and nobody taking him seriously.

“Hey…Hey.” It took Toji, Nanami and Chose to pull Geto off of him. “THAT’S ENOUGH GETO!” Toji hissed.

Toge and Sukuna ran over to help Gojo get off the floor. Gojo began to step forward, but Toge and Takuma held him. “You think I am going to kiss the ground you walk on. You are sadly mistaken.”

Gojo whispers in his ear harshly. “Keep playing with me Geto but know that you haven’t won that easy.” He walked off out the door with Toge and Takuma right behind him.

Geto moves away from Toji and Nanami trying to calm down. “Done making a fool of yourself?” Chose back leaned against the wall as his eyes were on him.

“We have a race to do and you are already ruining your reputation.” Toji shakes his head.

Nanami spoke softly. “For the record you should really seek therapy for all that anger.”

Geto shot Nanami with a disgusting look. “Shut the fuck up, Nan.”

“G, pull your shit together.” Choso moves his hat on his head and walks past him out the door.

Toji and Nanami shake their heads and walk out the door as well. Both of them can’t believe what they just witnessed between two men who are both friends with them.

Two minutes later, Geto stepped out the door and headed to his team garage, where his boss was staring at him and chatting with his assistant.

Shit!

He walked up to them as Christian started to yell at him. “Are you out of your bloody mind!?”

Geto sighs, feeling a slight headache. “He had it coming.”

Christian eyes widened. “Coming? You truly want to live up to your reputation of being a ladies magnet.”

He shrugs. “Boss, it’s not going to affect the team like that.” He was being a total smart ass right now.

Christian chuckled darkly. “You better fix your attitude quickly or you can kiss your career goodbye, Geto.”

Geto was getting frustrated and annoyed. He was starting to calm down when his assistant shoved his phone in his face. “You might want to see this, Mr.Suguru.”

He took a step back and saw what was on his phone. He noticed Gojo Satoru posted a picture with Y/N on his instagram page with a caption. It was a picture of Gojo laying his head on y/n lap with her hand touching his hair.

gojosatoru my sunshine knows I’m not replaceable @yourinstagram

Geto wanted to kill him. He was mad all over again. He grabbed his helmet from one of the employees and mashed it onto the ground.

Everybody paused what they were doing and glanced at him. “Alright, Geto you are not racing today. Go take the day off.” Christian told him.

He didn’t have time to deal with Geto bullshit. Geto took his phone from his assistant and headed inside the building to get his stuff. He packed his stuff in his bag as he held onto his car keys.

He zipped up his bag and walked out the door, hearing the fans scream. The camera crew was following him, but he wasn't concerned. He opened the door to his car and tossed his bag in the backseat.

He got inside his car, closing the door shut after the camera crew walked away. He sat in his car letting out a loud scream.

It was never this deep for him being caught up about a girl. He never acted like this before but now he starts to realize why a bunch of guys act this way over someone.

He turns the key in the ignition and hears the car roar. He fastens his seatbelt as he opens the glove compartment and takes out a flask. “Come to me.” He took a gulp from his flask.

He closed the cover of the flask and began to pump his foot on the gas pedal, speeding away. He kept driving while you were on his mind.

[thisnameisnotspokenfor]

Chapter 35 Preview

This is gonna be the only preview I release for the chapter but MAN is it juicy!

“So let me get this straight,” the star’s brows furrowed as the sounds of the crowded hall beyond the kitchen’s door filled the room, “You made a deal with him-,” he pointed towards her grandfather who scowled darkly. “For us to work in his bakery in exchange for the silence about a near assassination attempt today, so that your mother, of all people, doesn’t know that your life was in serious danger…” he frowned placing his chin in his palm before asking, “is that correct?”

“More or less,” she confessed, quickly pulling her braids into a high bun. 

“I’m not imagining things, am I? I mean I know I may be a little underqualified to say this but Asha this is an insanely bad idea! Maybe even terrible, and you know that’s something coming from me!” He exclaimed before turning to her still scowling grandfather, “Back me up here sir, this is a horrible idea isn’t it?”

Her grandfather growled, his eyes narrowing as Asha finished tying the ends of Valentino’s makeshift apron. 

“Why do you keep on escalating your adjectives?” she asked as she stood up and stretched. “The word Bad would’ve sufficed well enough.” “Look I know that it’s not the best or most reasonable course of action but I-…wait…Saba, where are you going?” she called after the old man’s retreating figure. 

“Hmph, where do you think I’m going? Between the both of us, someone here needs to pray for luck!”

“Luck?” Asha repeated. 

“Or divine intervention, whichever one comes first,” he grumbled as he continued to hobble before he came to a stop in front of the door. Searching through his pocket for his keys, she’d heard him mutter under his breath, “Hmph, I know I’ve done a lot of terrible things, some of which I’m not proud of, but this? I don’t know who I upset to deserve this walking apocalyptic kitchen disaster to come into my kitchen and have the audacity to make a valid point…” Capella pleated, walking towards him with the key in her mouth. “Thanks,” he muttered, taking it from her as he unlocked the door before him. “The things I go through Capella, I tell you…” he grumbled, slowly walking towards the hallway where the portrait of Geron hung..

“Saba,” she sighed as Capella followed after her grandfather, “he would’ve ended up in this kitchen one way or another. We need his help. Earlier, you yourself pointed out how he was far stronger than anyone else in Hamlet..remember? ”

Her grandfather had only turned around to give her one final glare before he’d firmly shut the door behind him, leaving her alone in the kitchen with both the star and Valentino. Valentino cast her a sympathetic glance as she dragged her hand across her face. She knew her situation was bad if it had her grandfather agreeing with Cepheus of all people!

Ugh… this wasn’t going to be an easy night, was it?

“Asha?” 

“Yes, Cepheus?” 

“I saw quite a few other people working in here earlier,” he spoke as he glanced towards the bakery’s door. “If your grandfather is so adamant against my help, perhaps we could ask one of them for assistance instead.”

“No, those are the noble’s servants,” she sighed as she leaned against the kitchen counter. “They’ve already been given their set duties for the evening.”

“So it’ll just be the two of you then? Doing all that work?”

“Well, I’m sure Mom will drop by later when she’s done with work to help us out, so we’ll just have to hold down the fort until then,” she replied, opening the kitchen cupboards to pull out the needed ingredients.

“Only her?” 

“Yes… “ she answered before her fingers paused, mere inches away from grasping the bag of brown sugar. “Why do you ask?”��

“It’s nothing, but…Asha, isn’t that a bit…excessive?”

“Excessive?” she paused as she gathered the ingredients in her arms before setting them down on the table. “ What do you mean?” 

“I’m talking about your workload,” he stepped back, granting her a view of the packed hall on the other side of the door. The delicious scents of food and delightful music filled the air as the people chatted and danced amongst themselves. 

Servants scurried about, handing out food as they rapidly walked in and out of the kitchen. “There’s at least a hundred people out there who you’ll have to bake and serve for,” he spoke, bringing her focus back to reality. “ All the other chefs have at least groups of five or six people assisting them.” His point was proven as they’d stepped to the side, allowing for several severents carrying dirty dishes to pass by. “Yet there’s only two of you back here working on the pastries…Isn’t that a lot of work for just two people? Shouldn’t you and your grandfather have a team to help you as well?”

“Ideally Yeah…but having a team of servants to help you isn’t exactly a luxury we can afford Cepheus. So we make do with what we have, even when it’s not the most ideal.”

She wasn’t sure why her stomach had sunk so deeply at her own words as he’d closed the door behind them. 

Certainly, there’d been some truth to the star’s words, but she had no reason to worry. She’d catered to large groups of customers before. She could do this, that much she was confident of.

Carefully her eyes turned to the bookshelves tucked away in the corner of the bakery. Then, Swallowing her nerves, she’d pulled the old wooden stool to the front of the bookshelf before she’d begun searching the bookshelves. 

“So you’re saying that if you were a noble of sorts, then you’d be able to hire help?”

“Ha! If I were a part of the noble class of Rosas, I’d be able to way do more than just that!” she grinned. The nobles of Rosas were already rich, to begin with, but considering just how Rosas operates on little to no taxes, their wealth tends to accumulate far quicker than it would elsewhere. With that money not only would she not have to work for the king anymore, but she’d be able to fund her own projects, the thought in and of itself had her grinning as she spotted her cookbook 

“Speaking of noble class, if the king was so kind to your family, then where is your noble title?”

She frowned as her eyes continued searching the bookshelves over and over, unable to spot the cookbook she’d been looking for before she sighed, “The king can’t just randomly hand out noble titles whenever he feels like it Cepheus”

“Fair enough. But did he at least make an offer?”

“That’s not how it works, Cepheus,” she grumbled, as she shifted through the half-topped books on the bookshelf.

Sure she could technically become a  ‘new blooded’ noble, through an economic achievement or acts of service to the king, but given her rather lack of magical talents coupled with her grandfather’s distaste of both royal and noble, she doubted she’d ever received a title.

But it was fine.

 If  her father, the king’s closest advisor who had always assisted his friend, had  done so without receiving a title, then so could she. Although she truthfully wouldn’t hve objected to having a title if it’d meant having a bit of help to organize these shelves from time to time, she’d thought with a huff before she’d spotted it. 

“Found it!” she cried as she reached forward, and grabbed the book. “I knew it was over here!”

“You knew what was over where?” the star asked as she hopped down from off of the stool. 

“My old cookbook,” she explained, as she dusted off it’s old cover with her apron. It had been a while since she’d use it like this, but she couldn’t quite quench the sense of pride that had filled her as she’d flipped through the old cookbook that she’d carefully collected and curated. “Pretty neat isn’t it? It’s a compilation of all of the best recipes in Rosas I’ve collected all over the past few years!”

“Which recipe is that?” he’d asked, pointing to a page as it came to an abrupt still.

“This recipe?” she paused, her face warming as she recognized the familiar site of the cookies that had been drawn in the prince’s younger likeness.

‘Ignacio cookies,’ the scribbled title had read above the recipe.

She couldn’t believe she’d still kept the recipe! She’d thought in disbelief as the star tapped her shoulder. “Um Asha? Hello?”

“Ah! Sorry.” she grimmaced, silently thankful that the star couldn’t read the title as she’d shook her head, “It was just a silly old recipe I made a while ago, it’s nothing really.”

“It looks like a face…kinda look those cookies they sell of the king in the market place…”

“You mean Magnifico cookies? When in the world did you have a magnifico cookie?”

“Oh is that what they call it?  I was offered a few this morning by the girls in the market. The were very insistent to say the least…but this isn’t one of those is it?”

“No, well not exactly, you see it’s sort of a prototype…”

“A prototype?”

“Yeah, you see when I was younger, the queen decided to arrange for a royal visit to my school. It was already exciting to know that the queen herself would be visiting our small village, but when she’d announced that the prince was in tow with her, well, everyone was practically ecstatic. So many people made plans to impress and befriend him as the day neared, me included. I really wanted to meet him,  but when he arrived, I was too sick to attend school that day. So I missed out.”

“Ah, you must’ve been disappointed-,”

“Oh I was,” she smiled. “I cried all day, it’s a wonder I didn’t drive my family insane, but funny enough, the next day when I went, I was able to gather that I wasn’t the only one who missed out.  Much to the chagrin of all the noble children, the prince had focused his attention on the person who’d ironically was the least excited for his visit.”

“Who was that?” he asked, his breath baited with anticipation.

“My friend Dahlia. She told me that she thought he was bothering her because she’d always made it a habit to stay up late at night to bake pastries that she’d bring to school with her the next day. Something about her had brought out a different side in him, you know? Most people swore that he’d spent the whole day clinging to the queen’s skirts but after a few minutes or so of talking with Dahlia, well, apparently he’d been blessed with enough bravery to torment her!” she chuckled, remembering how incredulous Dahlia had been as she’d recapped the events to her. “She swore on everything she had that the cookies she’d brought had been the culprit for his change in behavior, so when the queen later announced a second visit. I thought, I’d give a shot. I mean it worked for Dahlia didn’t it?”

“Were they delicious? Your cookies I mean.”

“I thought they were, and I thought he’d like it too. But I never got to find out what the prince would think, because he spent the whole entire time with Dahlia.”

The star frowned, slightly leaning away from her as he balked, “So he didn’t even try any of your cookies?! Not one?”

She shook her head, “No, but it was pretty fun making them, I had a lot of good memories doing it! Dahlia was also able to get a referral to work in the castle bakery after that too…” she smiled briefly remembering the sounds of her family’s laughter echoing through the kitchen as they’d worked together on the cookies. Everyone had seemed so happy that night…

 If only she’d known it wouldn’t last, maybe she would’ve insisted on them all baking together more frequently…

Turning back to the star, she’d been surprised to see the small frown on his face as he stared thoughtfully at the page. “Is something wrong Cepheus?”

He shook his head, allowing a small smile to replace the frown as he confessed, “Oh nothing it’s just….rather funny to hear you talk so positively about the experience…” His smile faltered as he took his seat once more and focused his gaze elsewhere. Shifting uncomfortably he’d laughed, “Frankly I guess I just expected you to be rather incensed about the ordeal, that’s all, with all the broken and unanswered wishes and whatnot.”

She shrugged, taking a seat next to him. “Maybe I was a little upset at the time, but who could I be upset at? We were all just kids. I can’t hold it against Dahlia if the prince was giving her the attention that any girl her age would’ve wanted at that time.”

“Would you have wanted it?” He asked softly, as she felt his eyes rest upon her once more.

She smiled, turning her attention back to the drawing in her hands. “Maybe back then when it had seemed possible, but like I said, I got over it, just like I always do…But the recipe was pretty good though, maybe I should bake it again.”

The star leaned towards her, “Maybe, but have you considered it going in a new creative direction with it? Maybe doing it in a different likeliness?”

“Hmm I didn’t think about that,” She admitted as she took note of the rather self-satisfied smile on Cepheus’s face. “Do you have any ideas in particular?”

“How about making one that would definitely attract the attention of customers, and most definitely be just as if not more aesthetically pleasing than any royal, which in all honesty is a fairly low bar, but nevertheless still a great selling point!”

“That sounds like a fantastic idea! Alright I’ll begin work on the Sabino cookies right after we finish tonight!”

“Yes the Sabi-…wait WHAT!” he exclaimed, indignantly standing up. “Sabino cookies?! SABINO COOKIES?!”

“Hmm?” she stared at him innocently, feigning ignorance. “ Is something wrong?”

“Yes!” he exclaimed  Something is very much wrong! Why in the world are you going to make Sabino cookies?!”

“Why not? My Saba is pretty popular around here.”

“Popular yes but…isn’t there someone else you had in mind?”

“Someone else?”

“Yes! Someone amazingly talented and handsome who is currently in close proximity to you?”

“Actually yes,” she nodded. The star beamed with pride before she pointed towards the still-shut door her grandfather had exited. “My Saba is over there after all-,”

He stepped back. His eyes lowering as he released a sound that oddly reminded her of a very wounded yet angry animal.

“That better not be some sort of mating or summoning call!” Her grandfather snapped as the hallway door quickly creaked open and the old man peered in. “I have a strict no animal policy, so there better not be any funny business going on here!” 

[chelseasdagger]

i miss him :(

[kbwrites]

The Lord's Favorite CH.2

synopsis: "He was both a monstrous force of vengeance and your savior, intertwined in a tempest of passion and fury.."

prev ← → next

⚝content: trueform!Sukuna x fem! reader, slightly suggestive, mentions of blood and gore

⚝wc: 1.5k

⚝a/n: I'm still shocked this got as much attention as it did! Thank you for reading, I hope this next part pleases you.

“Please, do your best to remain still,” Uraume chides gently. They press the cotton swab soaked in alcohol to your face, the stinging sensation causing you to wince as it penetrates the cuts on your cheek. Uraume offers a sympathetic glance. “I apologize for this…”

“You don’t need to-“

“Please.” They say firmly “I was aware of the tension between the servants, I... never thought they would do something to harm one of their own.” Uraume’s voice wavers slightly. They move to the wounds on your arms.

The door to the chamber swings open, and Sukuna stands in the threshold, leaning one arm nonchalantly against the doorframe. He surveys your battered form sitting on the edge of the bed—a trace of annoyance etched on his face. Uraume rises swiftly to bow before the king, but he dismisses the gesture with a casual wave.

“My lord, I’ve treated her as best as I can.” Uraume reports.

Sukuna’s gaze shifts to your face, his demeanor cold yet betraying a hint of concern.

“Are you in any pain?”

“No.. my lord and I’m sorry-“

“You are not at fault.” He interrupts you, his voice firm as he strides over, his heavy footsteps echoing through the room. Clad in a black robe with a purple sash tied around the waist, his rippling muscles are visible through the cascading fabric. Uraume steps back, offering a brief bow before exiting, leaving you alone with him.

He scans your face with a piercing gaze, lowering himself to your level. His eyes drift to your empty wrist, narrowing with a mix of concern and intensity.

“Where. is it.” He demands. Your eyes widen as you realize the bracelet you were given today was missing.

“I… it must have fallen off when they attacked me” You piece together aloud. 

“So they would harm you as well as steal…” Ryomen’s voice grows taut with anger he clenches his fist, body tensing up. He rises from his kneeling position, figure looming over you.

“Are you able to stand?” He questions lowly. You nod.

“Good. We will be going now.”

You look up at your king, his expression is unreadable, but there’s an unmistakable intensity in his eyes—a silent promise of retribution. 

You lag behind him as he strides purposefully down the dimly lit  hallway. The evening light leaks through the dark red curtains of the hall, casting long shadows that dance along the walls. Each step of his echoes with a menacing authority. He stops abruptly at the entrance to the servants quarters. Sukuna looks over his shoulder at you, his gaze intense and unwavering.

“Do you wish to watch?” He inquires, voice low and steady.

“W…watch?” 

“Yes, do you wish to watch as I kill the ones who hurt you.”

“I—“ your heart races, Was this really happening? “No… my lord I do not.” You speak quietly. He raises an eyebrow but doesn’t respond, opening the door to the room.

The servants look upon him in reverence… or fear. Ryomen Sukuna did not bother himself with his servants, so seeing him generally meant bad news. He scans the room at the trembling help who shrink under his scrutiny, ‘utterly pathetic..’ he thinks. Their eyes drift to you, standing behind him. Ryomen shoots you a sidelong glance, awaiting you to point out your offenders. 

You look up at him, conflicted. Do you really wish for them to die? He scoffs as if reading your mind.

“You would protect them, even after what they did to you?” He sneers.

 He directs his attention back to the line of servants, all bowing their heads in fear. His gaze lands on one woman, and he notices the bracelet on her wrist—identical to the one he had painstakingly crafted for you.

At the sight of the bracelet, his demeanor changes abruptly. His expression darkens with a fierce intensity. With a swift motion, two of his arms encircle you, gently but firmly covering your eyes.

“Do not open them, until the screaming stops.”

Screams of horror reverberate through the room. You hear slashes mingling with the sound of Sukuna chuckling darkly. All the while two of his arms remains protectively around you, shielding you from the brutality he’s inflicting upon the ones who dared to harm you.

The screaming fades, his breathing slows, upper left arm lowers from your eyes.

“It is done.” And as your eyes slowly open, the sight before you is gut-wrenching. Blood and carnage litter the servant’s chambers. You clasp your hand  over your mouth as you fight back a gag. 

Ryomen looks at you, a hint of annoyance for your lack of appreciation. You gaze upon his bloodied form, he was covered in it. He wipes face, turning his back on the lifeless bodies.

“Let’s go; I require a bath and new clothes.”

You sit on the edge of the porcelain tub, adding oils and dried petals. The act of bathing Lord Sukuna had become quite routine. And yet every time he entered the room your heart would skip a beat. He stood at over six feet tall, his four muscular arms and broad, chiseled chest commanding attention. The tattoos that adorned his toned body only added to his already imposing presence.

He strides confidently over to the bath, crimson eyes never leaving yours. The scent of lavender and roses wafting through the tiled room. He lowers himself into the water, groaning as the hot water enveloped his powerful frame.

You grab a sponge, wiping the dried blood from his chest. Ryomen leans his head back against the edge of the tub, sighing in relief under your touch. He’s quiet for a moment, only the sound of the water sloshing around echoes throughout the room. One eye opens slightly to observe you, your gentle hands erasing the evidence of his carnage. Massaging away his stress and tension. He speaks in a low, commanding voice.

“Join me.”

You abruptly cease your movements, looking at him in disbelief.

“You mean—“

“In the tub, yes.” You hesitate, glancing nervously between him and the water. Knowing it was not wise to disobey your king, you begin to shed your clothing, covering yourself modestly as you allow the bathwater to cloak you. You settle on the opposite side of the tub, his eyebrow quirks in mild annoyance.

“I will not harm you.” His voice almost… gentle.

You move closer to him. Albeit too slow for his taste, one arm pulls you towards his chest, settling on the small of your back. The unprecedented position of intimacy with your lord both thrilling and unsettling.

“Are you… unhappy with my actions today?”

"No… my lord." It was partly true. You were still reeling from the events that had transpired. The king to whom you had dutifully bowed had unleashed his fury... for you? The man you willingly served, had been so enraged by your injuries that he had taken the lives of those who wronged you. He was both a monstrous force of vengeance and your savior, intertwined in a tempest of passion and fury..

“Good.” Another hand reaches to stroke your hair, a touch so feather light you wondered if he thought you’d break. “I… do not wish for you to be unhappy.” He speaks softly. His finger traces your jawline. You shiver under his touch, but don’t pull away. If your heart were to beat any faster you feared it might give out altogether.  His hand trails down to your chest, placing his palm flat against the valley between your breasts.

“Your heart is racing…Are you frightened of me?” He questioned, feeling the rhythm quicken beneath his touch.

“F…frightened?” You try to keep your voice from shaking, but it betrays you quivering with uncertainty.

“It is understandable; I could kill you right now.” He grins as his words make your heart beat even faster. “I am merely stating a fact. Do not think of it.” His gaze travels from your face to your chest, lingering at the point where the water begins.

He stands up, water dripping down his body, your gaze travels down his abs to his v-line. He only grins as he sees your curious eyes widen at his lower half. It was quite hard not to look when he was so… big. The screams from his bedroom made sense after you were called to his bath the first time. 

“You are permitted to touch.” He declares, snapping your out of your daze, a shaky hand comes up to feel his abs. He groans softly under your nimble fingers, feeling his muscles tighten in response. He was a work of art, as if the gods themselves sculpted his figure.

You knew that after his bath, Lord Sukuna would typically summon one of his concubines to his chambers. This would inevitably result in several hours of indecorous moans and pained screams, audible through the door connecting your room to his. As his servant, you wanted to adhere to your place, but a part of you couldn't help but wonder... what it would be like to bask in your lord’s presence in such an intimate way.

“My lord, shall I summon someone to… attend to your needs?” 

He only chuckles darkly, one arm reaching down to gentle cup your face. His crimson eyes feasting upon your wet, naked form committing this scene to memory.

“No need,” He murmurs, his voice deep and resonant.

 “I believe your presence is precisely what I crave.”

taglist! (I know a lot a people in the previous post asked for a part two but idk if that meant you wanted to be tagged, lmk!) @haruchi-slit @gg-trini @pastelbunnelby @cauqhtz @shadava

[kisses4reid]

criminally hot | ·˚ ༘ spencer reid ,,

summary - you get wrongfully accused by a sheriff, and it isn’t you who’s angriest. it’s your boyfriend who has to expose your relationship in order to clear you.

genre - spencer x bau!fem!reader, fluff, slight angst if u squint, angry reid x calm reader

wc - 1.2k

warnings - reader uses she/her pronouns, handcuffs, violence, a weird white man i know id be fucking scared as well, oh swearing as well.

a/n - i love u you’re so awkward i am doing so well bc of ur request, keep requesting things your brain is crazy. ummm anyways this is my first time writing this kinda thing omg how exciting okay start reading it wtf you still doing here?

request - ( from @babyoureahauntedhouse ) omg hii!!! :3 this is my first time requesting, so please excuse the awkwardness 😭😭😭😭 first of all, how are you????? i hope you’re doing amazing!!! absolutely no pressure, but can you do one where reader gets falsely arrested (not a huge thing, maybe in a police station at a small town or something) and spencer absolutely **loses** his shit at how she’s being treated????? like, she’s freezing and the sheriff or somethjng keeps pushing her and then he just bursts into the interrogation room and uncuffs her and it’s just very fluffy???? thank you!

Emily handed you your coffee with a smile, receiving a small thank you in return. It was warm in your hands and created a comforting contrast to the cool chill of the police precinct you were set up in.

Things were going well given that you’d only been in the small town for half a day. The team debriefed on the plane, but Aaron had been on the phone with the leading detective for at least an hour now asking him where he was.

Emily headed off to the restrooms when a slender hand made its way to your waist. You turned and felt your cheeks heat, knowing exactly who is was.

“Hi Spencer.”

“Hi Y/n.” His eyes held sweetness in the chocolate swirls, and you felt like a kid who had been given candy. Spencer and you had been dating for a few months, but somehow in a team of profilers you both kept things under wraps, even with Spencer’s clumsy touches and your lingering stares. “I wish we were home,” he whispered.

You glanced around for anyone who could witness your interaction and get suspicious, but you were mostly alone other than Hotch and some officers who were weirdly taking a lot of attention to you.

“Yeah me too. I’m feeling oddly popular and not in the good way.”

Before you could talk more or offer him a sip of your coffee (even if you know he doesn’t like it), Aaron calls his name and the slim tall boy scurries away with a straight face.

You turn to find something to do. To reread a case, to help someone fill out papers, to talk to Morgan or Garcia. You would’ve opted to huddling in your cardigan if a tall man didn’t interrupt.

“Y/n L/n?” He asked in monotone. His arms were at his sides, one hovering above a pair of cuffs that hung from his police belt. Furrowing your eyebrows you answered,

“Yes? What’s wrong?”

“You’re under arrest for the robberies of…”

His voice pounded into the background of your head, thoughts attacking your eyes through a sudden headache as the words registered before you could help it. The room was silent except for the man’s voice, yet all you could hear was the furrow of eyebrows and quick approach of your boss, Aaron Hotchner.

“What’s going on here?”

“Your agent has been seen…”

You stood still as another officer came behind you and forced handcuffs onto your arms, gripping your wrists with unnecessary force that would surely leave bruises. You winced and looked between your boss and the officer, and then at Spencer, who was being pulled back by Morgan. He yelled your name in worry, witnessing the hardened grips on your body and rough pushing you were being subject to. Your coffee splattered on the ground, staining your white shoes.

There was only mumbles and white noise, as your eyes met with Spencer’s. The large officer behind you kicked your leg to get you moving, the shock glueing your shoes to the rubbery floor. And you almost didn’t even notice the hand on the back of your neck pushing you towards a dark room with a desk and two chairs.

You were so familiar with these rooms and yet it felt so different.

Of course, you didn’t actually do anything. And of course you attempt to clear that up to the officers who are slamming their hands on the table and screaming as much as they could, in a poor attempt to intimidate you.

Aaron was in the corner with a scolding face and hard hand to his chin, observing the situation with an intensity you barely ever see.

“Last month, you were seen at one of the houses that got robbed over night. You left a few days later, after also being seen at two of the other houses-“

“So she was seen at three of the ten houses robbed and you arrest her?” Aaron spoke up, bringing the men’s attention to your boss instead of you. You took the opportunity to look outside of the window.

Though it wasn’t clear, you could make out the outline of a tall boy you wished would just break into the room and save you.

And he did.

“Your evidence is illogical and childish. She’s an FBI agent for gods sake-“

“Anybody can be a suspect Agent Hotchner, even federal agents.” The tall one replied with a stubborn mumbled.

Suddenly, the door was slammed open and you were met with a disheveled Spencer panting with a red and severe face. He didn’t even bother looking at you before he starting schooling the men in blue, who at that point were glaring at him and attempting to look more intimidating than they actually were.

“I’ve read your files on this case and nothing links to Y/n L/n, not one-“

“There’s no way you read our-“

“I can read more in a minute than you can in a day, dickhead. Y/n was meeting old school friends when she was in town, we went to the Diner Inn afterwards and we met with her parents who have receipts for the meals because they’re-“ he turned his glance at you,” “sorry Y/n- they’re hoarders. You have nothing against her other than some positively reported visits and some photos of her hugging the house owners.” Spencer had slowly pinned the officers to the opposite wall unconsciously. It was hot. “I was there, I’m her receipt. And like her parents, she loves keeping those. So if you want to insist she’s your culprit, go for it. But your going against a man with eidetic memory and a lot of evidence.”

And while he was logical and correct, he was also a little too truthful.

The officers blinked in fear. Spencer definitely didn’t seem the type to yell or swear, so this clear, concise and undermining approach to the situation was somehow even scarier.

“Spencer,” you began, “thank you.”

He looked at you, his expression softening into empathy and care, “Of course.” His hands found a key in his back pocket as he approached you, starting to promptly uncuff you.

As Aaron continued to speak with the officers of their major mistake, Spencer took you outside of the room and into a private office. Your heart was racing, but it seemed Spencer was more stressed than you. He paced as you leaned onto the front of a wooden desk, hands over your chest as your eyes trailed Spencer.

“I’m sorry, Y/n. I should’ve reacted faster, then you wouldn’t have been..” He stopped closely in front of you, his breath hot on yours as his gaze scoured over your body for injuries or bruises. “Are you okay?”

You smile calmly, “I’m fine. My leg hurts, and I think my wrists will be bruised, but I’m fine.”

He took your hands and rubbed his thumbs on your wrists carefully, causing butterflies to explode in your stomach.

“Thank you Spencer.” Your eyes dance with each others. “You were really hot. Maybe I need to get arrested more often.” You joke with a lift to your voice and a smirk, causing him to look down with a smile and shake his head.

“If being angry makes me hot maybe you should reevaluate what you-“

Your lips found his, you hand going to his bicep and his going to the back of your neck, before a clearing of the throat took you both out of your trances. It was Hotch.

“I’ve got some paperwork you both need to sign. About the arrest and,” his hand waved between you two, “this.”

Morgan stood behind Aaron with a smirk, leaving quickly to go tell Garcia that she had lost their bet.

taglist: @jeffswh0re @reap3erslov3 @candyd1es

[augustinewrites]

“oh, you poor thing…” you murmur, stroking megumi’s hair. he’d been caught in the rain during the walk home yesterday, and had come down with a bit of a cold. the seven year old is curled up next to you on the couch, his head resting in your lap.

you glare at satoru when he scoffs from his end of the couch, the tip of his nose rosy and dripping with snot. “i was caught in the rain too, you know.”

“take some nyquil.”

you don’t even bother to spare his suffering a glance.

“can i have hot chocolate?” the little brat asks, his request followed by a weak cough. “my throat hurts.”

it’s almost ten in the evening, and the kid’s already brushed his teeth. there’s no way you’d say yes—

“of course! i’ll make some for your sister too.”

satoru’s mouth falls open - because he can’t breathe through his nose and because he’s shocked. “can i have some too?”

“i’ll make you tea with lemon and ginger,” you reply, carefully adjusting megumi on the couch as you get up. you even steal his blanket, draping it over the kid’s curled up form.

megumi peeks one eye open as soon as you leave, and satoru swears the smirk that follows is directed at him.

people have told him that kids are supposed to be gifts. but later - when he’s watching a lame documentary and choking down some bitter lemon ginger tea as megumi is spoiled with sips of chocolately heaven - he thinks they must mean gifts from hell.

_____

your lips are brushing over satoru’s collarbone when he wonders if he’d locked the bedroom door.

but then you bite and all his concerns go out the window.

your breath is hot against his skin, picking up when his hands grip your waist. chests rising and falling, the two of you love in sync. slow, deep kisses are exchanged in time with gentle grinds—

“i’m hungry.”

it makes satoru startle, banging his head against the headboard as you sit up, stuttering as you both turn to face the doorway.

“megumi,” you gasp. “how long have you been standing there?”

the blush colouring his cheeks is answer enough.

“i’ll make you something to eat,” you offer, leaving your boyfriend with a very unfortunate situation as you climb off his lap, shooting an apologetic look over your shoulder as you herd megumi out of the room.

satoru swears the kid shoots him a smug grin over his shoulder.

this, he thinks glumly as he heads to the bathroom to try and calm himself down. this is why he needs to stop doing nice things.

_____

exhausted can’t even begin to describe the way satoru feels after a long day of bugging nanami and exorcising curses.

he’s practically dragging his body through the apartment towards the bedroom, wanting nothing more than to strip out of his uniform and fall into bed next to you.

but he can’t, because the first thing he sees when he opens the bedroom door is megumi hogging his side of the bed.

you press your index finger to your lips as soon as satoru opens his mouth to protest. “tsumiki’s at a sleepover,” you explain.

“so? i’ll carry him back to his room—”

you make a noise if protest, waving his hands away as you whisper, “it’s his first night here without her.”

hands on his hips, satoru examines the very little free space left on the bed. “so that means you’d let me sleep on the couch?”

he doesn’t like sleeping alone. hasn’t liked it ever since you’d moved in and he’d decided he liked waking to the warmth of your body next to his.

“well, you could sleep in megumi’s bed.”

“or you could wake him up,” he counters loudly on purpose, earning a shush and a glare from you in answer.

“this is a good thing,” you insist once you’ve ensured the kid’s still asleep. “it means he trusts us!”

“but i’m tired,” he whines, even stamping his foot a little for emphasis. “i wanna cuddle with you.”

“fine,” you relent with a little sigh. “but you have to wake him.”

gleefully, he goes to shake the kid awake. he’s about to do it, but all it takes is one look at the peaceful look settled over that little face. over the year he’d gotten to know megumi, he’s only ever worn a scowl, or a look of general boredom. so to see him like this, finally settled into the household…

it’s enough to make the sorcerer smile, even as he sets up the makeshift bed of blankets on the bedroom floor.

_____

“sharing is caring,” satoru proposes the next afternoon at the dinner table. it’s just him and megumi right now, as you’d just left to visit shoko. “so you can cuddle with her on the couch, but the bedroom is all me, got it?”

megumi frowns, staring at the list (can he even read yet? gojo has no idea) “but what about movie night?”

“fine, but only for a little bit. after that she’s all mine.”

he takes the kids shrug as agreement and moves on.

“knocking,” he starts with the utmost seriousness. “is a very important thing to do when any door is closed. and next time tsumiki is out, you’re the one sleeping on the floor.”

(they both know that’s not going to happen, but it doesn’t hurt to try.)

once the terms of their deal are finalized, they shake on it.

“so we’ve come to an understanding, good. because i’d rather have you as my bro than my foe,” he says, dragging the edge of his thumbnail across his throat for emphasis.

megumi rolls his eyes before sauntering off to his bedroom, and satoru sighs, letting his forehead hit the tabletop with a dull thud.

he’d fought off suitors vying for your attention before, but never one as tough to beat as this one.

[myspacebrat]

★ 𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐨.

𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐛𝐬𝐟 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝓍 𝐟𝐞𝐦 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: your brothers best friend asks you out to a movie, as a last resort when your brother isn’t home. Although you weren’t his first option, how could you say no when you’ve been in love with him forever?

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: smut, 18+ mdni, public sex, fingering, unprotected p in v, cream pie, dirty talk, a tiny mention of gore and death, fluff.

The door bell rings out in your quiet house, it’s late and you were just about to slip into something comfortable before the unknown guest interrupted. You’re also home alone, so as your socked feet carry you down your stairs and up to your front door, you yell out a quick. “Who is it?” Before you even think about touching the lock.

“It’s eddie.” The voice on the other side shouts through the thick wood.

Your pulse thumps, as it always does in close proximity to the metalhead. God, you were hopeless! This crush was not supposed to follow you into adulthood, but here you are still crushing on your brother’s best friend.

You twist the lock and open the door, before popping your head out to tell him your brothers not home, but when you see his face with that adorable smile and those puppy dog eyes, all train of thought leaves you. God, did he have to look so good? His black band tee hugged his muscular torso, deliciously. His jeans as tight and sexy as always and the cherry of the cigarette illuminating his face and the craziness that was his mop of hair.

“Hey, what’s up? is Matt here?” His hopeful eyes bore into yours, and you cant help the gulp you take before you try to find your words.

“He’s at Crystals.” Is all you can string into a coherent sentence.

“Ah shit, that’s too bad. I got two tickets to a midnight showing of nightmare on elm street.” He shoves his hands into his pockets and bounces on the balls of his feet, in his beat to death reeboks.

“Oh, I’ve been wanting to see that one!” You beam enthusiastically. “I’m sorry, he said he’s gonna be gone until tomorrow. I can call him and let him know you’re here.” Now that you’ve found your words, they begin to leave your mouth a mile a minute.

“Nah, that’s alright don’t bug him.” He says as his eyes begin to rake over your body, as little by little you’ve exposed more of yourself from behind the door. “What about you? Are you busy right now?” He asks, catching you completely off guard.

“Me? Oh um, well no, not really.” You murmur, as your belly swoops at the thought of him asking you to go. You and eddie haven’t hung out one on one since you were both kids, and it was never intentional. It was always the result of your brother doing something stupid and getting called downstairs so your parents could reprimand him as you and eddie carried on with whatever it was you were doing, which usually included video games.

“Yes you, c’mon it’ll be fun. I really don’t want to waste this ticket.” He says with a pout to his pink plump lips, his eyes shine in desperation and before you can even analyze over the answer in your head, you’re agreeing, because how could you not?

“Fine, just give me a couple minutes.” You usher him inside, then run upstairs to put yourself together as fast as humanly possible.

The theater is empty when you both stroll in, eddie guides you by the small of your back up the steps, to a dark little corner in the very back. You try not to be hopeful that he’s picked such a hidden corner for devious reasons, but butterflies still flutter around in your stomach at the thought.

He lets you sit closer to the wall, while he gets the aisle seat. You’re willing to bet if anyone else was in this theater, you’d be completely hidden from wondering eyes.

“This okay?” He asks, as he grabs a handful of buttery popcorn before offering you the bag.

“It’s perfect.” You respond back taking your own handful of the greasy kernels.

Once the previews pass and the lights dim, you begin regretting the mini skirt you threw on. Luckily you paired it with leg warmers, but they didn’t help much when the vents kicked on for the main future.

“You cold?” Eddie asks, leaning over the arm rest to whisper in your ear, as if you two aren’t the only ones in the theater. Apparently no one else in Hawkins was up for horror at midnight.

“Yeah, but it’s okay.” You respond back, meek as ever.

“It’s alright pretty girl, I got you.” He begins removing his leather jacket before draping it over your goosebump riddled legs.

Pretty girl? Since when has he ever referred to you as that? Fuck, you couldn’t help but squeeze your thighs together, not only was that phrase the most effortlessly sexy thing you’d ever heard leave his mouth but the gesture of him warming you up with his jacket had your brain reeling with thoughts, the ones you had late at night that you wouldn’t dare share with another soul.

As the movie went on, and the popcorn and sodas were empty; you couldn’t stop squirming in your seat everything just too much of an aphrodisiac for you. The way eddie would laugh at every gory scene, the smell of his amber cologne that would waft up to your nose every time you wiggled your hips, not to mention just the simple fact that horror movies and the sex scenes in them made you hot.

“Aw, you scared over there, princess?” The metalhead mocks with a playful pout, before he slips his hand under his leather jacket and onto your exposed thigh. “You’re okay, I’m right here.” He whispers, his warm breath hitting the skin of your neck, just below your ear. The shiver that racks your body is intense and has you feeling needy for those plump pink lips to kiss and suck on that same area of skin.

It doesn’t help when his warm hand begins rubbing along your thigh, up and down in slow, gentle motions.

You know Eddie’s always been a touchy dude, but this seems like more. He’s never called you pretty girl or princess and certainly never rubbed your damn thigh. He could totally be fucking with you, and that thought makes your stomach sink a bit, like this whole thing is just some big joke because he was bored and had no one else to hang out with tonight. You pray it’s anything but that, you don’t think you’d be able to survive that heart break.

But there’s that second option, the one that has you rubbing your thighs together, again. Jesus, being around him like this has you acting like a bitch in heat, unable to control that constant need for friction. The thought of Eddie flirting with you, intentionally touching you because he wants you, has you wiggling your hips in an effort to rub your clit against the rough seats. His fingers tighten, digging into the skin of your thigh and bringing your wanton need to a halt.

“Is there a reason you’re wiggling your hips like that over there?” He questions, in a low but demanding tone. One you’ve never heard from him before, one that could make you come with just one more brush against your throbbing bud.

You squeak in embarrassment, realizing he felt the movement and has caught onto what it was you were doing.

“I asked you a question, pretty girl.”

Theres no way words were leaving your mouth, not when his face is mere inches away from yours, breathing on such a sensitive part of skin, the callouses on the tips of his fingers digging into your plush thigh, the metal from his rings no doubt making imprints you wish would last forever. Words simply didn’t exist in this moment, none that made sense to you, anyway.

“C’mon, come sit on my lap since you’re such a scaredy cat.” He taunts, giving your thigh one last squeeze before his ringed hand slips out from underneath the leather.

He puts the arm rest that was snug between you, up and out of the way before giving his right leg a pat, silently telling you to move it.

Your face heats as you continue to stare at the spot, if he thinks you’re going to be able to sit on his lap without squirming he’s got another thing coming.

Sliding your hands underneath your bottom to be sure your skirt doesn’t bunch up and show off the little lacy panties you have on underneath. You stand taking a few steps, before turning back towards the big screen and slowly sitting down onto his boney thigh. It’s definitely not as comfortable as the seat you just left, you wiggle to find the right spot, making his hands shoot out to grip your hips tight, halting your movement.

“You gotta stop moving, kitten.” He groans into your ear. What is with these pet names? He seems to have an abundance of them tonight.

“Sorry, just trying to get comfy.” You whisper back.

“Here, just lay back. Put your head on my shoulder.” He murmurs, helping you settle your back onto his chest, leaving your head to rest on the space between his shoulder and neck. “Perfect, good girl.” He says into the shell of your ear, he really is trying to kill you tonight.

You’re so in your head while gazing at the movie, that you don’t even see the telltale signs of a jump scare before it’s too late. Your whole body jerks, your ass landing on something hard and whatever it is, is poking you between your thighs. Eddie lets out a strangled gasp, instantly revealing exactly what it is you’ve accidentally made your seat. You freeze, not ready to acknowledge your embarrassing mistake. But also, the friction feels fucking good.

His hands fall to your thighs before covering you back up with his heavy, leather jacket. They slip back under, grabbing a hold of your doughy flesh.

While another helpless teen gets murdered on screen, you feel eddie rock up into you pushing his clothed cock deeper between your thighs.

“Fuck.” He exhales into the side of your face before pushing you down into his lap as he searches for more friction between your bodies.

“Eddie.” His name slips from your lips in a moan, but you don’t care to preserve yourself any longer, you’ve wanted this man for so long, if a single night in a movie theater is all you get, then so be it.

“What is it baby? What do you need, hm?”

“Need you eddie.” You whine in desperation as you both continue to rock your hips into each other, the movie now just muffled background noise, as you get lost in the pleasure together.

“You gotta say it, tell me what you really want.”

“I w-want you to f-fuck me.” You stutter, trying your best to gain some type of coherence over your thoughts. You hate that he’s urging you to put into words what you really want, but at the same time you’re turned on because he wants to hear those vulgar words leave your lips, that’s gotta count for something, right?

“Try that again, sweet girl. C’mon, say it like you really want it. You can do it.” His words are demanding but there’s a gentleness to them, you still can’t help the fact that in your mind they read as condescending and for some reason that turns you on too.

“Need you to fuck me eds, please?”

“That’s my good girl, that wasn’t so hard was it?” His fingers trail your thigh, before landing over your clothed mound making you gasp from the tiny shred of relief it gives you, making you so much bolder than you were just seconds ago. Your hips rock against his erection.

“No, but this is very hard.” You giggle as you continue to rock your hips down onto him. You look back and see the smirk on his face, it’s cocky and so very Eddie, it makes your heart skip. It’s surreal to be in this position with him after the love you’ve harbored for him all these years.

“Yeah, hard for you. I have the girl of my dreams grinding her ass on my dick, of course I’m hard.” He says before moving the fabric of your sodden panties to the side. Your head spins at his words, did you hear him right? The girl of his dreams, since when?

When his fingers glide through your slit, and begin rubbing on your little bundle of nerves, your mind goes blank and now all you want is that white hot, relief.

“Look at you, so fucking wet for me. You’ve been wanting this too, haven’t you? Been wanting your brother’s best friend’s cock. Naughty girl.” After smooth circles over your bud, a finger plunges inside you, and fuck if the intrusion isn’t just what you needed. After a few pumps he’s slipping in another finger alongside the first. Your wetness so loud it can almost be heard over the movie still playing in the background.

“Oh fuck, listen to that tight wet cunt. Can’t wait to stick my cock inside you, baby. Jesus, I don’t even think I’ll last long. You feel so fucking good, so tight.” He babbles, as he continues fucking you with his fingers.

“Please, your cock Eddie. I need your cock.” You whine, not recognizing yourself at all but you’re too turned on to be embarrassed or ashamed.

Eddie reaches for his jeans, unbuckling his belt before practically tearing the rest off in a haste to get to his dick. You feel it as he slaps his hard cock against your ass, then he’s lifting you up and slipping it between your bodies. He glides the tip against your folds and you wish so badly you could see what he looks like. Another time.

His cock breaches your hole, meeting a bit of resistance even though he tried his best to stretch you out with his fingers.

Eddie was so right about not lasting long, there’s no fucking way he was lasting more than a couple minutes in your tight, wet heat.

You rock your hips against his, doing your best to sink down onto him. There was a slight burn but you welcomed the pain, mixed with the pleasure it was mind blowing. If you weren’t careful you’d become addicted to that feeling.

Finally, once your ass is snug against his lower stomach and he’s seated deep inside you, you begin to bounce on him. Taking over the control as you use him for your pleasure.

“Oh fuck.” Eddie groans, his hands grip the sides of your ass as he helps you bounce on his dick. “That’s it baby, take what you fucking need.” His ringed hand comes down hard on your ass cheek, the loud slap ringing out into the empty theater.

You sit up, hands gripping the seats in front of you as you use them as leverage to bounce your ass. The slapping of skin and moans and groans are fucking obscene, and if someone came walking in right now, there’d be no doubt what you were up to. That made it all so much hotter.

You move Eddie’s leather jacket to the seat in front, before spreading your legs and using every bit of muscle in them to drive your hips down harder. It felt so fucking good, you didn’t want it to end, but you could feel that familiar sensation of your orgasm coming on.

“Lay back on me.” Eddie demands, and you follow without hesitation, getting reacquainted with his chest, but the angle is wrong and you can’t really move your hips like you want. The metalhead surprises you when he grabs the backs of your knees, hiking them up in the air, before lifting you and bringing you back down onto his throbbing cock. He was so fucking close.

He began bouncing you like his own personal pocket pussy, it was so dirty and hot and the angle had him hitting that sweet spot deep inside you. Your moans grew louder as your legs trembled.

“That’s it, you gonna come for me kitten? You gonna soak my fucking cock? Oh, I can feel how close you are, c’mon milk my cock baby, take every last fucking drop.” His words spur you on, and your vision becomes hazy as your pussy clamps down around him, your clit throbs as the fire travels throughout your lower belly. Your toes curl and your head falls back onto Eddie’s shoulder as he begins to bounce you for his own pleasure. It’s hard and fast and you could totally come again, but instead Eddie buries himself deep inside you one last time before he’s coming, the warmth of it making you shiver, as he groans and whimpers behind you.

“Fuck, you’re amazing.” He says through ragged breathes. He lowers your legs back onto the floor but makes no moves to slip out of you as his cock softens between your walls.

“Just stay here with me for a little longer, don’t wanna leave our little bubble yet.” He whispers as his hands gently rub over every inch of skin he can reach.

It’s now that you both realize the movies over and the credits are rolling, while the music masques over your shared, heavy breathing.

“Cmon, let’s get you cleaned up and then we can talk about how we’re gonna tell your brother, you’re my girl.” His presumptuous words would turn you off if they were coming from anyone else, but coming from him, they were music to your lovesick ears.

[postmortemnivis]

no grave can hold my body down, i'll crawl home to her.

simon really meant it, every bit of it, he’d come back to you somehow. he would find his way back to you. wether it was walking through the front door quietly not to wake you up in the middle of the night or cold in a coffin. he’d rather have you hold his dead body than not to have you touch his skin ever again.

that’s what simon was thinking about as his ear ringed so loud he couldn’t focus on his surroundings. he looked up at the sky, so blue it almost didn’t feel right. why so blue when so much blood was being shed?

he occasionally would feel the ground he was laying on tremble, maybe a hand grenade, maybe a body falling next to his. the smell of gunpowder filled his covered nostrils and he could feel his lungs collapsing on themselves from the thickness of the air he was breathing. his eyes weren’t doing good either, filled with dust and sand from the dry earth.

it took him a few more seconds to focus his eyes on something, something that possibly wasn’t moving, his head spinning each time he tried to sit up. something was weighting on his legs, holding him down. he struggled to raise his torso and groaned at the sight of a large body blocking him. he let himself fall back down.

he was ready to go, a sharp pain to his side telling him he wouldn’t last long alone. he’d been through worse, way worse, the scar provided by the meat hook was proof of that, but something was telling him this was as bad. he was ready to go.

the only thing he could think about in his last moments was you. he thought he could see glimpses of you, maybe your hair in the corner of his eyes or he’d hear your laugh as another fire shooting started. his eyes searched for you frantically. he wanted to tell you to leave immediately, scream it at the top of his lungs, but his voice was caught in his throat and you weren’t really there. his mind just playing cruel tricks on him.

your name was repeated like a mantra in his head, repeating it so many times it almost lost a meaning. almost. a prayer, a chant. he sure needed to pray, for you.

he had been shelving the thought that tormented him for months. he wanted to go and confess his sins, he almost felt the need, his palms itching with haste anytime he thought about it. years had passed since the last time he had set foot in a church, so many that he had almost forgotten the reason for the visit. the ghosts of the past never abandon you, especially if they are people you love, especially if they are family, the innocent. its always the innocent who pay the highest price.

‘i wonder what she’s doing now, who’s gonna knock on her door and tell her im gone.’ he thought. ‘hopefully price. he’s the one with tact and the most considerate. he’ll help her when i’m gone, keep an eye on her.’

the sweet smell of your hair replaced for a moment the one of blood and gunpowder, your laughter still echoing in his ears. he pictured your sweet face and big innocent eyes looking up at him.

“promise me something?”

“mhm?” he hummed, surprised you were still up. his hand hadn’t stopped caressing your hair since you laid down on his chest, your hand resting on his collarbone as your ear listened to his calm heartbeat. “yeah, anything.”

“promise me you’ll always come back.” you whispered in the dark room. “promise me, simon.”

he nodded, taken aback by your request. you weren’t the fondest of his job, he knew it, he hated to concern you like he did.

“yes.”

“promise.” you urged. “please.”

he bent his head down and kissed the top of yours, his arm sliding down your back and drawing you closer by your waist. “i will, love. i’ll always come back to you.”

you sighed, the knot of thoughts in your worried head began to untie. “mh.”

“better now?” he softly asked. his voice was hoarse from his constant shouting orders at the obstreperous recruits. you gave a short nod. “i mean it.”

he groaned as he managed to get the body off of himself, struggling to get on his knees.

fucks sake, he couldn’t let you live with him gone like this. it was selfish of him to leave you in such an abrupt way, really. he tried to push away the image of you opening the door to find price with a carton box filled with simons stuff from the barracks with the balaclava and skull mask on top and your knees hitting the floor before he could even say anything.

his legs didn’t feel like they could hold his weight up, he immediately fell to his knees as he heard another rapid fire too near him for his liking. his gun was long gone, he had to manage to survive alone, again.

“crawlin’ it is.” he breathed as he started to drag his tired body with the strength of his arms alone. you had always praised his strength: he could lift you with one arm alone, you loved to be held and hold on to his arm anywhere and at anytime. that was the main reason he always pushed for more while training, and the motivation your sweet compliments always gave him now were gonna save his life. he made a mental note to kiss and hold you a little longer and tighter if he ever made it home alive.

he could see the building his team was supposed to meet up in case things got bad. it looked so far away that it was alarmingly close. maybe it was just his messed up vision, a mirage, but he could swear he saw you from a window looking at him, urgently motioning him to come.

he brought the thick balaclava above his nose so he could breathe better and as enemy gunfire continued to flow, he kept his head low as he moved dead bodies from his way.

he could hear your voice calling for him and he wanted to call you for you back, but the noises of the battlefield were hurrying him to get to the safe zone first.

he stumbled by the door as he brought himself up, one hand stabilizing him as he held on to the doorframe as the other went to press on his wound.

“lt!” johnnys voice called before he rushed to help him. “ye cheeky bastard, i told them not to leave yet, to wait for ye.”

“gaz saw you get shot.” price swung simon’s arm over his shoulder in order to help him to the nearest table, where he laid down.

“he saw that right.” simon bit the inside of his cheek as price inspected his wound, pressing on it. “is he a‘ight?”

“he’s fine, hit his head but had his helmet on, he’s getting checked out by the medics.” price informed him as simon winced at the sharp pain. “there’s at least two bullets in here, didn’t pass through, stuck.”

“just take ‘em the fuck out.” simon groaned. “how’s it lookin’?”

“you’ll live.” price patted his shoulder in comfort before he went to call a medic.

“we really thought we’d lost ye there, lt.” johnny’s face was glowing with sweat and blood, the black war paint smudged messily all around his face and his mohawk dusted.

“helicopter’s leaving in thirty, boys!” price’s baritone voice called from the other room.

simon scoffed, sighing and closing his eyes, finally letting himself relax as your figure started to fade from the corner of the room where it’d been standing, silently looking at him. “won’t lose me, can’t wait to go home, johnny.”

[kxsalt]

cw abuse

Mom’s ex-boyfriend always checked in on her. The girl couldn’t handle being alone for long, so he would come by often to keep her company. Her mom considered it a kind favour – she worried about her little girl whenever she travelled for work. Their breakup had just made her separation anxiety worse. He was the closest thing to a father figure in her life, something she desperately needed.

The girl flinches when he touches her. Lying in her bed, his hand in her panties, she stuffs her face into the blanket and tries not to cry. “…stop…” A finger slips into her cunt. “ah! stop! i’m still sore from last time!” The paternal figure ignores her. Pulling up her shirt, her nipples are pinched and squeezed. A second finger works into her pussy as she starts to sob.

“Don’t be a baby, you’re all grown up now, act like it.” The man scolds the crying girl. She doesn’t feel grown up. Even though she had graduated over a year ago, her anxieties had kept her from pursuing a job or higher education. Most of her friends had stopped calling. He was her only regular visitor. “i can’t… tonight… stop…” Her mom’s ex-boyfriend strips her naked.

Thrusting his cock into the young girl’s pussy, he lets out a deep groan. She yelps and tries to push away, held in place by a harsh grip on her arm. The older man’s fingers cut into her already-bruised bicep. “owww! nuh- too much…” His hand moves to the back of her head, pushing her face deeper into the pillows. He admires the marks on her arms and body.

“Remember to wear long sleeves when your mom gets home.” The girl doesn’t respond. A muffled sob wafts out of the fabric, followed by a shriek when he smacks her clit. “Did you hear me?” She gasps, feeling every bit of his cock pounding into her. “yes i did! please don’t hit me there…” Another smack on her pussy. “What did I tell you to do?”

“Wear long sleeves so mom doesn’t see my bruises.” He pulls on her hair, looking into her tear-stained face. “Why is that so important?” She winces as he shoves his cock all the way inside her. “…cause mom won’t let you come around if she finds out.” More tears roll down her cheeks as he has rough sex with her innocent body. “And you don’t want that, do you?” Crying from pain and fear, he kisses her. “…no…” The girl finds comfort in their tongues touching.

“Good girl. Keep doing as you’re told and I’ll stick around.” The thought of him leaving makes her nauseous. “don’t go. don’t go. i’m trying-” She cuts herself off with another painful whimper. The man fucks her as hard as he can. He holds her arms behind her back and wrenches her legs open. Spread wide, she feels him push deeper with each thrust.

“stop stop stop stop it hurts!” He goes faster. “Shut up.” The girl breaks and cries uncontrollably. “I said shut up.” Annoyed by her disobedience, he drags her to the edge of the bed. Sniffling, she hides her face behind her hands. “Done crying?” His cock smacks against her clit. “Ask for more.” Stammering, the girl can’t speak. “You were so chatty a minute ago. Beg for more or I’ll leave you here.”

Her mom’s ex-boyfriend offers a reward. “Do it and I’ll let you call me dad.” Red eyes peer through her fingers. Her lips move silently. “Speak up.” Grabbing her wrists, he pulls them away from her face.

“abuse my pussy, daddy.” His thick cock stretches out her drippy hole. The girl winces. “please, daddy, abuse your little girl’s pussy.” The man puts all his weight into her, driving deep into her cunt. She cries and begs. “abuse my pussy – just don’t leave…” His cum fills her. Sobbing and flinching with each thrust, the girl presses her face into his chest. “…just don’t leave…”

[indecisivemuch]

Look at me

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Reader

Summary: Being oblivious to Luke’s feelings, you tried to get over him by getting a boyfriend, who just does not know how to treat you right. Inspired by the song ‘Boyfriend’ by Dove Cameron ~ “I could be a better boyfriend than him.” (jealous luke, friends-to-lovers, fluff, angst, pining, happy ending.)

Warning: Just the boyfriend being an asshole and unwanted physical touch for a split second, but nothing serious. Sorry if your name is Cole. Violence (physical fighting)

Note: I’m sorry if there are a lot of errors, I haven’t had the chance to edit this thoroughly so if it feels like a train wreck, then I'm sorry. I just needed to write this out, get it out there, so I can go back to revising for my exams in peace lol, cause this plot/idea has been at the back of my head, I could not stop thinking about it or study properly. Lowkey hated how this one turned out, but whoops.

Word count: 4.8k

“People say that eyes are the windows to one's soul,” you once told him. You two have been best friends for a very long time: five years of being attached to the hip. Yet, you were completely oblivious to the way he looked at you. Even everybody at camp noticed and thought it was bound to happen. They were so sure that Luke and you would end up together. So imagine everybody’s surprise when something else occurred.

It happened right in front of Luke: Cole - a boy from Cabin 5 and son of Ares - asked you out, and you said yes.

It has been two months since that day. All Luke could do was sulk as he watched his best friend slip away. Of course, you still tried to spend as much time as possible with him. But even then, things have changed. There were no more of those content silences between the two of you. There were no more carefree laughs that made Luke feel like you two were the only ones that existed in this place. He used to walk you back to your cabin every night, hugging you good night or kissing your forehead close to your hairline if he felt brave enough. Moments like those convinced him you two would be like that forever. But his solace was taken in a split second. Now, you were so near, yet so out of reach. 

It didn’t help that he saw you every day, like right now, as you sat in the middle of a gathering hosted by your cabin. Gods, even the wind seems to be in love with you, judging by the way it was blowing through your hair as if it was trying to twirl itself around those lovely locks that Luke himself used to always tug behind your ears. The sight of you always bathed him in this warm feeling, like the morning sun. Hence his nickname for you: sunshine. 

Then his brown eyes landed on the figure next to you, and they hardened. He has witnessed it all: Cole’s backhanded compliments, ignoring you on your birthday, leaving you alone to talk to his friends, occasionally flirting back with girls who batted an eyelash at him, and then blatantly telling you that you were overthinking it. Luke knew he could treat you so much better. 

You were sitting with your boyfriend and his group of friends, who often gave you weird looks or snickers. Gods, if it was him you were with, he’d never make you feel excluded. He would have his arms around you and defend you if his friends ever made snarky remarks. Not that that would ever happen anyway; you were well-loved at camp, and all his friends loved you. But he would treat you well, nevertheless, not like that dumbass sitting next to you.

One of your favorite songs started playing, and Luke watched as you genuinely smiled for once tonight. You touched your boyfriend’s arm, muttering something to him. Luke knew exactly what you were saying to Cole because you and Luke used to do this together. Except, you never had to ask Luke. 

Whenever your favorite tunes were on, Luke would immediately pull you out of your seat and dance with you, laughing as if nothing mattered at all. Nights like those, he liked to imagine that the stars above envied them and what the two of you had. Now? He felt like one of them, watching from the outside. 

Luke’s jaw clenched as he saw Cole shrugging off your hand on his arm. Gods, Luke felt like that idiot was taking you for granted, and his blood boiled. Before Cole, Luke used to always orchestrated some excuse to have you touch him - getting injured on purpose sometimes just to watch you frantically panic over his wounds and take care of him, volunteering to help you out with swords training just to touch your hand and pretend to adjust the way you were holding it, hugging you every time he greeted you and so on.

For a second, your mask slipped, and you had that look on your face, like something had left you emotionally wounded. It was the kind of look Luke would kill to never see again, and oh, the things he would do to get rid of Cole. Luke had to wrestle with the thought of marching up to Cole and beating him to a pulp. However, he did stand up to approach you.

You felt a hand touch your shoulder. When you peered at the person standing, your eyes immediately glimmered as they caught Luke’s. However, something foreign was gleaming in his eyes. The Hermes boy has always looked at you sweetly. But the way he was looking at you right now was filled with something much more intense - borderline fervent, like an obsession. 

Cole finally glanced over at you for the first time the entire night. Unlike you, he instantly recognized the look in Luke’s eyes: hunger and longing. It was clear as day to everybody but you.

Luke extended his hand out for you to take and you understood right away. For the first time in two months, your hand touched his. Luke’s chest sunk and his breathing lost its usual rhythm for a second as your skin made contact with his. The Hermes boy finally looked over to Cole, and the Ares boy saw an immediate shift in his eyes. Now, they were filled with animosity and - the most obvious of all - heated jealousy. 

Luke led you away from Cole and started twirling you around. You let out a laugh - the kind that was infectious and has always brought a smile to Luke’s lips. You both sang along to the lyrics. For once, your relationship felt restored, just like the good old days. Was it wrong that this was the happiest you have felt since you got together with Cole? You shrugged away the thought as the song slowly ended. Luke settled with both hands on your waist while yours were around his neck. Usually, you would put your head on his chest as you both slightly swayed around. But now that you were in a relationship, you kept a bit of distance between the two of you. You gaze up at Luke, who was already staring at you sweetly. The moment was perfect. Gods, you almost wished to stay in it forever.

Meanwhile, Luke hoped he could convey his thoughts through his eyes - the unspoken words he wished he had told you sooner. Could you not see the infatuation coursing through his veins whenever he was with you? Could you not see that you got him at your beck and call? 

The look you gave him almost convinced him that you heard his thoughts. You leaned your head on his chest, caught off-guard by the speed of his heartbeat as it soothed you along with the music in the background. Feeling a heated look over his way, Luke glanced around and locked eyes with your boyfriend. Cole narrowed his eyes while Luke gave Cole a look of resentment and immense loathing. 

Gods, he could be a much better boyfriend than Cole.

“Hey, man,” when you heard your boyfriend’s voice, you lifted your head from Luke’s chest and withdrew your hands around his neck. “I’ll take over from here,” Cole practically pulled you away from Luke and started swaying with you. Instead of feeling happy that Cole finally danced with you after two months of dating, you felt wrong. Cole's hands were on your waist, but they felt sluggish like his heart was not in it at all. Your ear was against Cole’s chest, so you caught the sound of his heartbeat. It sounded…too calm, almost cold and shallow, causing you to twist your lips into a frown.

You glanced up at your boyfriend but saw him staring behind you instead. So you glanced back and caught a glimpse of Luke before getting pulled around by Cole, who roughly yanked your face towards him. He kissed you almost aggressively. There was something cynical and bitter about the way he was kissing you. 

Cole opened his eyes and conceitedly made eye contact with Luke. The Hermes boy glared at the sight of Cole handling you so roughly, claiming your lips so smugly. If it was him, he would be kissing you for you; he would be kissing you to show you how much he worshiped you and the ground you walk on, not to prove an empty point.

You finally managed to pull away when Cole let go of your chin. “All right, we’re done for the night, don’t you think?” your boyfriend muttered, quickly leaving you to return to his friends as if nothing had happened. Despite feeling slightly aggravated at Cole, you hated that you couldn't care less of his words at that moment, and the first thing you did was look in the direction Luke had been before. 

Yet, he was not there anymore.

~~~

Your cabin was not on the same side as Luke’s cabin for this match of capture the flag. You were fighting off some people who were on the blue team. Years of training with Luke paid off because you managed to point your sword at the person’s neck and grinned when they put their hands up in surrender. You continued perusing through the area, trying to regroup with your team or take down another blue team member. However, you almost tripped as you witnessed Cole on the ground with Luke on top of him, repeatedly punching his face..

“Luke!” you called out, watching as Luke’s action faltered, and his eyes darted around frantically around like a lost wild animal. However, Cole took advantage of Luke’s momentary distraction to land a hit on Luke’s face. The Ares boy got off the ground as Luke stumbled and went for another punch. However, Luke dodged it effortlessly and rammed Cole against a tree instead.

“Hey, knock it off,” you yelled, standing between the boys to stop their flight. Luke immediately backed off, afraid he would accidentally hurt you if he didn’t. But Cole, in the middle of his blind rage, still swung for Luke and ended up striking you across the face instead. Right when that happened, Luke pushed Cole again and rushed to your side to assess your injury. At that very moment, Chiron approached the scene with one of Cole’s friends next to him, who promptly told the man:

“It was him. Luke initiated the fight.” 

~~~

Luke wished for somebody to put him out of this misery as he stared at you from afar helplessly. He was so dotted that it hurt. Somebody must have answered his prayers because your eyes met his from across the field. There was a bit of sadness behind them, perhaps regret from how things ended yesterday. You whispered something to your boyfriend, but Cole did not even spare you a glance and waved his hand as if dismissing you from the discussion. Luke’s hand once again curled into a fist. He bit the inside of his cheek from the pain induced by his injury. The Hermes cabin counselor felt no bit of guilt in his body about his physical altercation with Cole. He felt smug at the sight of Cole with one black eye, busted lip, swollen cheek and a body sporting way more bruises than him. 

You deserved better. 

“Hey, stranger,” you greeted, sitting beside Luke. Almost immediately, he hooked one finger under your chin, tilting your head lightly as if he was afraid he might break you. The boy scanned over your injury, sighing at the sight of purple forming under your skin, indicating an emerging bruise. Even so, under the moonlight, you still looked heavenly to him.

“Devon said you initiated the fight. Is that true, Luke?” Luke frowned at the mention of Cole’s friend. Great, now he knew another idiot’s name. Meanwhile, you have asked this because you knew him. There was no way the boy you knew would lose control like this and swing his hands first. 

“No, but what’s the point of telling Chiron that? It’s two against one,” he breathed out.

“Luke, you’re literally the friendliest and nicest counselor here. Of course, he would believe you,” you reasoned. You sighed disappointingly as Luke only shook his head in response as if asking you to drop it.

Now, you two sat in silence. It felt the same as the comforting ones you have had with him before - the ones that made you feel like you were at home in front of your fireplace, curled up with a book. 

“Why are you with him?” and with that, the comfort evaporated as the air thickened. You and Luke rarely argued or even disagreed, so it felt like an unfamiliar territory every time it felt relatively tense between you two. 

“I know you, which is why I know that you’re absolutely miserable with him, so I don’t understand why you’re still with Cole,” Luke commented, though his voice was quiet because he was considerate of drawing this type of attention to you. He had seen it before - Cole causing public altercations and storming off and you running after him with tears emerging from your eyes. He did not want to put you in the same position.

“Y/N, please, as your best friend…” there it was again, the word that used to make you smile brightly, was now the same one that brought you pain. You wanted more. “...You deserve better,” he uttered, his eyebrows slightly scrunched as he looked at you with those eyes. There it was again, the look so intense that you were convinced they could swallow you whole. Yet, you could not interpret them. So, you looked away.

“Luke…” you said his name almost like a warning sign. The boy sighed at this. 

His fingers gently tilted your chin towards him, urging you to face him. There was so much contrast in the way he touches you and the way Cole does. You knew precisely why Luke wanted you to look at him: your eyes were your tell for him. Years ago, after you told him that eyes were the windows to one's soul, he told you that he knew this already because he had learned that your eyes will always tell the truth for you. That’s how, in so many instances, he would be the first to notice whenever you're upset. 

“Y/N, does he make you happy?” you stiffened at the question. Words choked up in your throat as your mouth opened to answer. You wanted to say yes so you both could get over this conversation. But you knew he would be able to tell you were lying. The way he looked at you right now, as if you were the only thing that mattered. He seemed so vulnerable. Little did you right at this moment, Luke was willing to surrender and let you go if you said yes.

“Oh, this is who you left me to talk to?” Cole's voice broke you both out of the trance. “The person who beat your boyfriend?” Cole passive-aggressively spat, sneering from above as he looked down at the two of you. You called out to your boyfriend, but he quickly cut you off with a quick “Unbelievable,” before walking away. But Cole did this on purpose. He liked the attention he drew, even if they were at your expense, especially because he knew you would chase after him.

“I’m so sorry,” you muttered to Luke on your boyfriend's behalf as you stood up to run after him. Luke frowned as he shook his head. If you were his, he would never allow you to apologize on his behalf, nor would he give a reason for you to ever do that.

“Uhm, what are you waiting for?” Annabeth’s voice broke Luke from his irritated state. “Go after her,” the young girl nudged.

“I doubt I should do that, Annabeth. Last time I was with him, he ended up in the infirmary.”

“Yes, but you need to go after her before it’s too late.”

“It’s already too late.”

“No, it’s not,” the girl stated sternly, and when Luke peered over at her, he recognized the look on her face. From experience, he knew better than to doubt when Annabeth was right. So, he stood up and walked in the direction where you disappeared after your boyfriend.

“Stop it, Cole. I don’t want to…” Your voice grabbed Luke’s attention as he started walking in that direction, eyebrows furrowed.

“Come on, this is the least you could do to make it up to me,” Cole replied. 

When Luke reached the scene, he almost went into an uncontrollable wrath when he saw Cole trying to take off your shirt as you objected and struggled out of his grip. 

“I said ‘let go,’ Cole,” you yelled this time, pushing him back. Upon finally doing so successfully, a figure stormed past you and immediately flung at Cole’s cheek, right at the spot that was already bruising. The impact knocked Cole to the ground as he wailed from the pain. Averting your gaze to the person, you saw Luke. Like a deranged bull, Luke grabbed Cole by the collar and lifted him up, going in for another hit, but you quickly stopped him, calling out his name.

Cole, who did not learn his lesson, spoke again, “Gods, of course! He runs to your aid again. You must be a good fuck for him to get this attached. How many times have you fucked him, huh? Gods, you’re such a whore, you know that?” If it were not for your hands stopping Luke and removing his grip from Cole’ shirt, Luke would have ensured Cole no longer had a face. 

“Cole, stay the fuck away from me. We are over.” Your words seemed to affect Luke more than Cole. It was as if Luke could feel an immense weight being lifted from his shoulders. “Let’s go, this is not worth it,” you told Luke. Cole barked a laugh at this.

“Man, you’re more trouble than it's worth. Do you know why no guys ever asked you out? You’re fucking difficult and clingy, that’s why. If it was not for that fucking bet, I would not have either.” Luke was about to launch at Cole but was caught off guard because you had already done it yourself. You punched him, aiming for his nose and teeth, making sure to break a few.

“You fucking bitch!” Cole spoke after he howled in agony. He spat out blood as his nose started bleeding, “Gods, you’re gonna pay for this.”

“Oh yeah? Come on!” you challenged him, motioning him to come over. Any sense of calm or restraint you had was long gone. “I’ll be the one sending you to the fucking infirmary this time,” right when you started approaching Cole again, you were quickly stopped by Luke. He stood behind you, one of his hands soothingly rubbing your back in an attempt to calm you down. Luke averted his gaze to Cole.

“If you know any better, then leave, Cole. And don’t come near any of us again, or I promise you…” Luke trailed off, shaking his head as his eyes bore the weight of the promise he left unsaid, leaving it to Cole’s imagination as to what Luke would ever do to him if he ever saw the boy again. Something seemed to dawn on Cole as he saw the dark look on Luke’s face. Cole finally decided to leave the scene, limping away from the area as he muttered some insults under his breath.

You turned around and inspected Luke’s hand, which started bleeding again through the bandage. Taking his non-injured hand in yours, you wordlessly dragged the boy to the infirmary. Despite the excruciating pain spreading through his injured hand, Luke blushed at your action and followed you like a lost puppy.

The Apollo person on shift was someone you knew, so you managed to convince them to let you do the work on the Hermes boy. You observed his hand again, peeling off the dirty bandage from it. As you went to grab disinfectant, Luke softly held you back by flipped over his hand that was in yours so that he could take a look at your hand instead.

“Are you okay?” His words made you swiftly look over at him instead. There was a sad look on his face as he sat on the infirmary bed. You haven’t seen him this hurt and dejected in a long time.

“Am I okay? You’re the one with the bleeding hand.”

“You punched him quite hard.”

“He deserved it,” you settled on answering, hesitantly pulling your hand out of his so you could grab the things you needed. 

“You know I had that handled, right?” you asked mindlessly, trying to fill the silence as you disinfected his hand and wrapped a new bandage over it. “I don’t need you to defend my honor or anything, Luke. I can hold my own ground,” you tried joking.

“No, I know you can hold your own ground. Besides, I wasn’t defending your honor,” he spoke softly, watching as you delicately held his hand with so much care. He wished you could hold him like that as well. A quivering sigh escaped his soft lips, his voice much less firm than he wanted it to be: 

“I was defending the girl I’m in love with.”

You immediately looked at him, only to see him already gazing up at you. It was as if a blindfold had been taken off, you finally understood what your other friends were referring to when they said that Luke had always “looked” at you. His eyes were filled with adoration. However, this time, they were also decorated with pain.

“I could be a better boyfriend than him,” he stated, almost like it was a fact, and your gut knew it was true, too. 

“So….Why not me? I watched you give Cole - a complete asshole - a chance with you. I watched him give you so much less than what you deserve. It pains me, but I still sit here and wait for you to look in my direction for even one second in the way I have always looked at you. I could be so good to you, Y/N. I waited for you to realize I could be the one who loves you so endlessly and treats you way better than all these guys combined. So…why? Please tell me why and put me out of my misery. Why is it not me?”

“Luke…” you rasped out his name. Despite the pain he was in, his heart could not help but throb for a second as it yearned for the sound of your voice calling out to him again. He almost scowled at himself for the way he was reacting to you. Gods, you managed to unravel him through the sound of his name from your lips. He hesitated for a second, wondering if he would even be able to take it at all - if he was given a chance with you. Would he be able to handle the way your skin felt against his, or would his heart burst into unstoppable flames? Would he ever be able to move on if you ended up breaking his heart, or would it remain in scattered pieces of you?

“I love you,” he uttered so effortlessly, which almost convinced you he had said it a thousand times before. In a way, he did, but only in his mind after every time he bid you goodnight. Gods, never did you think he’d say it out loud and put it out there. You almost said it before as well - out loud to the universe, but never brave enough.

“Luke, I never knew,” Luke wanted to sigh as he looked away from you. For the first time ever, he did not want to be vulnerable and let you see his eyes. The same ones that had been looking longingly at you for the past five years, and you were too blinded to see.

He could have sworn that he had been laying it on thick for the past years - all the touches, the looks, his actions. Luke would always linger near you and select you first every time he had to go on a quest. And if he ever were selected to go on one without you, the first thing he would do after returning is wrap his arms around your waist as he pulled you into a hug, breathing in your presence like it would bring him back to life from the gruesome battles he had to go through while out of camp. Did all those actions throughout five years not show you enough that he was infatuated with you? He wanted to reassure you that what Cole said previously was not true. Many guys wanted you but never asked you out because they knew he would be first in line no matter what. 

"Luke, please, look at me," Of course he obeyed. His eyes met yours - the ones he always tried to find in a crowd of demigods.

“I never knew that you were an option. I did not know that I could choose you. I thought that even attempting to tell you about my feelings would break our friendship forever. I didn’t know you felt this way, too. In fact,” you dryly chuckled. “I was giving Cole a chance because I was trying to move on from you.” Luke tugged you closer to him, his fingers lingering on your hips. Thousands of thoughts speared through him as he tried to collect himself. A glimmer of hope presented itself as his mind toyed with the idea of you wanting him too.There was no way he was letting you move on now, not when you both have mutual feelings. 

“I thought I was deep in the friend zone. Did you not see all the moves I pulled on you?” he asked.

“What moves?”

“Uhm—the physical contact?”

“I thought you were just touchy.”

“I walked you back to your cabin every night!”

“Well, I thought it was just a best friend thing?”

“The first thing I do after every quest is search for you, you’re always the first one I want to see.”

“I really, really thought it was because you were my best friend.” He groaned at all of your responses.

“But do know, Luke. You have always been my first option in everything. And I would have chosen you again and again, the first pick every round…if I knew you were up for it.” He groaned again, but this time out of temptation and satisfaction. He didn’t think the metaphorical butterflies were real. He slowly but surely stood up from the infirmary’s bed and wrapped his arms around your waist. You reciprocated, your hands around his neck. He leaned closer to you and gulped. He wanted to say the right words, do the right things and not mess this up. He took a deep breath and finally settled on what to say next.

“Can I kiss you?” He muttered in a low, raspy voice with a restrained manner, as if he was holding himself back. Five years of pining led him to this point. You almost melted at the sound of his voice.

“Kiss me, Luke.”

And he did. He pulled you up and arched down, connecting your lips together. He dove in as if he had been waiting for this day his whole life. He felt every breath knocked out of his lungs. He sunk himself into this moment like he was living for it rather than in it. He kissed you as if it was the only time he could and as if you would evaporate if he stopped. His hands moved to your face to embrace your cheeks in his palm.

You started moving your hands up his head and played with his curly hair. You tugged it slightly, and the action drew a moan from Luke. The sound caused you to break away. It made you flustered that you had evoked such an alluring sound from the Hermes boy. 

“I wanna go slow for you, I really do. But it feels like I’ve been waiting for so long. I want to be a gentleman and not skip steps. But I can’t wait anymore,” he whispered before whimpering against your lips, “please be mine.”

He went in for another kiss again, but you pulled away. His heart clenched at this. The boy bit his lip and wanted to scowl at himself for attempting to speed things up. He was too greedy and wanted things too quickly for you. He almost whined at the thought of losing the chance he barely had.

“That was not a question, Luke. Ask me, and I’ll give you an answer,” he stared into your eyes, and it almost set him on fire. He never saw that much passion in them before. It almost matched his, and that made his heart fasten again.

“Will you be mine, sunshine?”

“Yes, Luke. As long as you’re mine too.”

“I have always been yours.”

——————————

masterlist

Join my Luke Castellan tag list

[ragingbookdragon]

It’s not an odd moment for Simon to come sit in his office. He does it fairly often, either to get away from people wanting his attention or to cool off and relax. But this time, he looks more than his usual serious as he sits down and sets a file in front of Price. They make eye contact, and Price picks up the folder, looking it over, before a brief surprise flashes in his gaze and he looks over the papers.

“You’re not re-enlisting?” He asks in shock.

“It’s time to get out,” Simon simply says.

Price isn’t going to engage something so serious with lies. “This about her?”

Simon almost bristles. Almost.

“She’s a wreck without ‘im.” He looks at the old man. “The kids are strugglin’.”

“Morrigan and JJ—”

“They need their mother back,” he cuts him off. “She can’t do it alone.”

“So you’re stepping up to play dad.” It’s a bit of a low blow.

“I’m not replacin’ Soa—I’m not replacin’ John.”

“So this is about her then.”

“I’m not in love with ‘er,” he retorts and like a fool, realizes he just shot himself in the foot. “She needs someone.”

Price reclines in his seat, lights a cigar—he’s too old for this. “I can’t stop you.”

“But you want to,” Simon replies.

“Can’t deny losing you will be a walk in the park with every superior we have.”

Simon looks at him. “Price, I need to do this. I…I owe it to ‘im to do this. To be there. To look after them. It’s…it’s what ‘e would’ve wanted me to do.”

“I know, son,” he says gently. “I know.”

“I’m not in love with ‘er,” he says, uncharacteristically weak.

“It’s okay if you are,” he smiles with with a softness. “She’s a helluva woman.”

Simon chokes back a snort at that. “She was to wrangle a man like Soap.”

Price eyes him for a good moment, they stare back into each other’s gaze. “Can I tempt you with reserves?”

“You can try,” he shoots back with a grin.

He sighs fondly through his nose. “Go home, Lieutenant.” Before he can get up, Price adds, “To Soap’s.”

“Yes, sir,” he says quietly and stands, looking down at his sitting captain. “I care about ‘er. About the kids.”

He looks at Simon and sees the scrappy eighteen-year-old just out of boot camp standing before him, the chip on his shoulder, and a desire to take on the world.

“You’re a good man, son,” he commends. “Don’t ever forget that.”

“Yes, sir,” he replies and turns, pulling out his phone. He shoots her a quick text.

Leave a plate out for me on the table?

Her response is almost instantaneous.

Already waiting.

[pellucid-constellations]

Of Oblivious Minds (3)

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: You're positive Azriel is in love with Elain. It seems so obvious. But Cassian is laughing at you and suddenly nothing makes quite so much sense anymore.

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: Azriel's POV (it's a warning here), angst

a/n: I am blown away by all of you and your support!! I really love writing for this fandom omg. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy ♡ Let me know what you think!! I'll get the next update up soon!

Part 1, Part 2, Part 4

~~

Azriel was losing his ever-loving mind. 

A few weeks ago, everything was fine. Not optimal, but fine. 

He knew his mate, and that was more than could be said for most of Prythian. But even more than that, he could love her from afar. He could make small remarks and catch the smiles they would elicit. He could send his shadows after her on her walks home, protecting her even though she had the entire Inner Circle looking out for her wellbeing. He could buy the ridiculously expensive pastries she loved and stock the kitchens with them, listening for the small gasps she let out each time she found them.

He could talk to you, listen to you, love you in his small ways, even if it wasn’t the ways in which he longed for. 

Because it wasn’t the right time yet. You hadn’t felt the bond for yourself. 

So, yes—admittedly, Azriel had not been in the most optimal position with you. But it was leaps and bounds better than the purgatory you were subjecting him to now. 

He mulled over his current reality as he sat opposite to you at the dining table. He had had to snag the seat from Mor, ripping the chair from her hand in an uncharacteristic show of aggression, and you hadn’t so much as looked up from your plate. He would’ve rather fought for the seats beside you, but Rhys and Cassian had been sitting before he even entered the room. So now he fought for your eyes and was too far away to offer any lingering, accidental touches. 

Not that you would reciprocate either. 

You were avoiding him, and Azriel was at his wit's end trying to decipher why. 

His shadows had relayed dismal reports, only whispering the words sad and alone and contemplative into his ears each morning. He could have guessed as much, if the display of emotions he had tried to comfort you through all those days ago told him anything. 

But Gods, did they really tell him nothing, because you hadn’t spoken to him since. 

“—that is certainly something to consider. Y/n, would you be open to the job?” 

“Hm?” you hummed, and Azriel watched as your eyes flickered over to Rhys in one abrupt movement. “Sorry, what?” 

Rhys raised a brow lined with humor, and Azriel realized he hadn’t been listening to the conversation either. “Helion has extended an invitation to the Night Court—for diplomatic relations and all. It’s mostly a weekend stay for show, but he has quite an extensive library. Feyre and I went last time so it would only be fair if—” 

“Yes,” you nodded, the most emotion Azriel had seen on your face in days blooming into a joyous array. “Of course, I would love to go. Are you kidding?” 

Rhys chuckled. “I figured. Helion has been quite eager to get you to come as well. Seemed like the perfect time.” 

Azriel didn’t miss the way the High Lord’s eyes shone with something other than mirth as he looked closer at the scholar… as he inspected your facade the same way Azriel had been for the past week. 

“When can I leave?” 

Something in Azriel scratched to a halt. “She’s to go alone?” 

Feyre offered the spymaster a soft smile from the other side of the table. “If she wishes. Helion’s invitation was open-ended.” 

“Take the vacation, I say,” Mor piped in, wine glass raised in a solitary toast. 

“Or… you could take me,” Cassian grinned beside you, jostling you in a playful grip. 

You sent a scoff his way. “Aren’t you banned?” 

“No, actually. I’m banned from Summer Court, which is completely unrelated.” 

A short laugh trickled from your lips. It wasn’t a full one, not like the ones Azriel was so used to—the ones he basked in—but it was a laugh, nonetheless.

He felt the way his eyes seemed to follow the crescendo of it, his blinks in time with the sweet sound. 

He committed it to memory. 

“Right, well let’s keep you away from neighboring courts as much as possible so we can avoid a repeat of that, okay?” 

Something like a grin fought at the side of Azriel’s mouth at your quip. 

Cassian prattled on. Something about unjust rules or ridiculous high lords—Azriel wasn’t paying attention. He was too caught up in you and the way you were so close to meeting his gaze. 

“Perhaps she shouldn’t go alone,” Azriel spoke up, interrupting his brother’s spiel. You still didn’t look at him, instead turning to catch Rhys’s response. 

“Azriel, I can assure you this is a safe visit,” Rhys offered. He knew. Everyone seemed to know but you. “It’s hardly even business. It’s more of a vacation. I’ve been shoving century-old relics in her face for the past few months. She deserves time to herself, don’t you think?” 

His High Lord was speaking in code. A terrible, frustrating code that really meant, “give her some distance.” 

Azriel had had enough of distance. 

He nodded his head all the same. 

And then, despite all odds, you looked at him. 

You looked at him and it was as if the air had been knocked from his lungs. As if he had been wrung out and stretched thin and every bone in his body forced him to sit up straighter. You were looking at him and Azriel couldn’t conceptualize the way the spectrum in his chest moved so quickly from utter relief to the brink of desolation. 

Because you looked at him as if you were broken. A sad—such a sad—smile graced your face, one he had never had the displeasure of seeing before, and he wanted to wipe it away. He wanted to kiss it from your face with soft touches and reassuring whispers and that was startling for Azriel because he usually kept his overwhelming urge to kiss you at bay. 

“I’ll bring you back a souvenir,” is all you said. Such simple words to accompany an expression that sent him reeling. 

“Thank you,” he replied, with the most sincerity he could muster. 

And then he held your gaze as it became downcast. He craned his neck to catch every last second of your eyes as they turned back down to the table.

It was hours later that Azriel found himself in the townhouse, boots creating an indent in the office carpet. Rhys sat just feet away from him, leaning back against the desk, waiting for the Shadowsinger to erupt. 

“I would like for you to position your spies further into Autumn. I know you have a few that have integrated into the court, but I need more intel on Eris and his plans.” 

“Of course.” 

“You can take out any currently residing in Day. Just for the next week or so. With y/n going, she can report any happenings.” 

A muscle in Azriel’s jaw jumped. “Would that be wise?” 

Rhys stared back at his brother, expression giving nothing away. “Why wouldn’t it be? Do you not trust y/n’s word?” 

Azriel’s wings were taut against his back. In truth, he hadn’t felt relaxed in days. With you leaving, that tension would surely pull him into thin compliance. 

“Obviously I trust her word, Rhysand.” 

“Rhysand? What have I done to earn your grievance?” the High Lord asked, crossing his arms over his chest, still the perfect picture of calm. 

Azriel was a juxtaposition before him as he clenched his hands and replied, “You already know.” 

“Do I know? I’m not sure you’ve been clear or honest with anyone. Y/n especially.” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

Rhys bent at the elbow and rubbed a restless hand across his jaw. Azriel ignored the movement in favor of holding eye contact with the High Lord. Azriel was being stubborn, he knew that, but there was no other way to be. 

He needed to be consistent and reliable. He needed to be a pillar for his family to lean on, and you were part of that. He wasn’t going to take that away from you—to be selfish and call upon a mating bond you hadn't even been made aware of yet. 

He wasn’t going to squander your friendship in the hopes of something more. 

There was a chance, no matter how much the prospect pained him to consider, that you wouldn’t want the bond. You had never hinted at wanting more with the spymaster, so there was no telling how you might react to the cauldron blessing you with a union. You could reject it, and with it would go your friendship. 

Just the thought sent ice through Azriel’s veins. 

Truth be told, he had never shown you many signs either. When the bond snapped months ago, it had taken time for Azriel to come to terms with the truth. He had ruminated on it amidst many sleepless nights, watched you from a new perspective over many dinners, and contemplated the path that had led him to you. 

And then he had regretted. Cauldron had he regretted. 

The feeling still lingered, a reminder of each woman he had taken to his bed before you. All of the fae that had meant nothing, and even the ones that had boarded on something, he wished he could do away with.

Because you had been privy to them all. He knew you had witnessed a few late-night trysts, and even worse, that you had watched him pine after Mor for a century. It all seemed so frivolous now; it all paled in comparison to you. 

And the absolute worst part of it all is that he knew. 

He knew how easy it would be to fall in love with you from the start, so he pretended not to notice. 

He threw himself into impractical longing and meaningless lovers and he pretended that it didn’t hurt to look at you. 

The bond had only cemented his foolishness. 

He hardly had a chance with you by the time it snapped. 

“Late night then, Az?” 

You had teased him over breakfast just days before the bond had snapped for him, a small smile on your face as you lounged at the table early in the morning. At the time, Azriel had bit the inside of his cheek and reeled in his snarkiness. He had avoided your gaze, avoided the robe that barely covered your nightgown, and made himself toast in silence. He had already coaxed the blonde fae out of his bed, and he hadn’t needed a reminder of the woman he had been imagining all throughout the night. 

Because that had been something else he opted to ignore—that he pictured you, imagined you, at all times. 

It snapped three days later. He had been accompanying you through Velaris. “Shopping for fun,” you had said, “and I hate to go alone.”

The only thing Azriel had taken home that day was a gaping hole in his chest and the knowledge that lying to himself had brought him nothing but pain. 

The months following were different. 

Everything was different. 

But for you, he had come to the grim realization, nothing was different at all. He was still Azriel, your friend Azriel, who was secretive and private and cared from afar. You still pictured him as a man who chose his lovers based on convenience and quick practicality even though he hadn’t so much as looked at another woman since your emotions began flowing through his chest. 

Gods, your emotions. They were so positive, so addicting, he could sit back and live his days through you until the end of time. You had so much unrestricted joy coursing through you—so much curiosity and delight. Part of Azriel dreaded the day you did recognize the bond; it would dim the connection to you.

That day in the library had been the first time the bond had chafed against his lungs. He had felt the earthquake beneath his feet and thought nothing of it, but then your fear punctured his being and he had run so fast his wings ached. 

And then you started having nightmares, ones he couldn’t fix, and Azriel began to feel like he was losing you. Like the bond was withering and eroding within him and you along with it. 

“How long, Azriel?” Rhys’s voice cut through the air with a harshness. 

The shadowsinger breathed through his nose, jaw tight. 

“Tell me. Tell me how long you’re going to keep this up for.” 

“You don’t understand, Rhys,” came Azriel’s low reply. “None of you do.” 

The High Lord scoffed. “Right, because I had it so easy with Feyre. Az, mates are complicated—” 

“Don’t,” Azriel breathed. A dangerous shakiness accompanied the word.

“Explain it to me. Help me to understand how—” 

“There was nothing for you to lose!” The rise of the shadowsinger’s voice sent Rhys into silence. “There was nothing! You hadn’t known Feyre for three centuries—hadn’t known what it was like to see her cry over worthless males or laugh until she was doubled over. You didn’t have time to memorize the sound of her voice or understand how it felt to lose that small piece of her. Because she won’t even talk to me anymore and—” 

Azriel cut himself off, moving for the first time since he entered office. He paced, the motion of his feet doing little to dispel the tension from the air or from his body. Azriel tugged a hand through his hair, his shadows following the aggressive pull and weaving through the strands. 

“How long?” Rhys asked again, but this time, Azriel knew that he was asking a different question. One that even he himself had avoided answering. 

The shadowsinger paused. His next words were tainted and his voice cracked. 

“I think forever.”

Part 4

[veritasangel]

if we're being honest

⋆ ˚｡⋆ any pov ୨୧˚ warnings: none ↣ just soft simon {wc: 1.5k}

There was a dating app on Simon’s phone, he hated the thing but hadn’t uninstalled it yet.

It usually all went the exact same with everyone who messaged him. They’d ask Simon some shallow questions and then instantly begin flirting. Sure, maybe that was what it was for, but it felt so forced to Simon and he never had an urge to flirt back.

He’d keep the conversation steady and at least try to get to know them. But then the sexual remarks would begin almost instantaneously. Maybe others would be okay with that, but not Simon.

He could hardly stand such topics with people he knew, let alone sexting a stranger, he never got the appeal. It was very clear that most of the ones talking to him had focused on the ‘soldier’ part in his bio and ignored everything else. 

He had actually been meaning to delete his profile because it clearly wasn’t working, but as he opened the app to do so, your profile popped up.

You looked pretty, a sweet smile too. He couldn't help himself and clicked on one of the other photos available, one of you smiling with a cat. He tilted his head as he looked at the giant fluffy cat.

'Hmm, might be a slight problem one day' Simon thought to himself as he glanced at his dog beside him. He was already getting ahead of himself at that smile of yours, alone.

He sighed, trying to shake away the thought of messaging you. He had opened the app to delete it, but there was something about you that had his brain, or maybe his heart, screaming at him to just go for it one more time.

Simon contemplated for a good few seconds but who was he kidding? He knew he would end up messaging you.

The first conversation with you was a breeze, you were throwing all sorts of jokes his way and honestly for a moment he thought Soap was pranking him because your humour was almost the same.

He’d later learned that you were nervous so the jokes felt like a better icebreaker and honestly it made him feel better to know you were nervous as well. The messages between the two of you were more like two friends getting to know one another, there wasn’t a hint of anything romantic even after you guys had been talking for a little while.

And maybe that’s what Simon wanted.

Falling for a friend felt much more real to him and if that friend was you, well he liked the idea even more. You were caring, funny, intelligent and honestly everything about you was what he wanted in a partner. You made him feel comfortable, even asking at the start what topics were out of bounds and as a man with a lot of trauma, that was a huge sigh of relief.

Eventually he got the courage to ask if you would want to go on a date with him, and thankfully you said yes.

Simon picked a nice restaurant a good distance between the both of you so neither one had to travel far. Everything leading up to it was perfect, but right as he was about to leave, he had a slight panic.

He had to call Johnny and try not to let it turn into a full blown panic attack. Soap kept him calm, talked him through it, even suggested that it'd be best if Simon probably cancelled the date. That last part wasn't really what he wanted to hear though, Simon didn’t want to cancel, he wanted to see you so badly. Needed to.

Eventually, after a long conversation, he reluctantly agreed with Soap, getting off the phone to send you the dreaded text.

Sorry, but I’m gonna have to cancel or maybe reschedule tonight's date. I think it’s the going out to the restaurant part that's setting me off and I just can't do it right now :/ Again, really sorry.

He puts his phone down and he already knows how this is going to go. You’ll think he’s a dick, send an annoyed response back and block him before he can explain...but instead his phone starts ringing.

"Si, you alright?"

He just takes in the soft sound of your voice as he takes a deep breath and collects his thoughts.

"Uh yeah-" he mumbles, "I'm really so sorry if I've wasted your time, you probably got ready and everything and I-"

You cut him off mid ramble before he can overthink anymore, "It's okay. "Talk to me, are you okay? Do you need anything?"

"I'm fine, feeling a little better, I just-" Simon begins, "Just had a little panic, it’s not you, don’t worry. I just haven’t done anything out and about in a while, I think the restaurant was a little daunting. I really apologise."

"You really don't need to apologise Si. I'm sorry you're feeling that way." you say softly, worrying about him over the phone and Simon knows it, can hear it in your tone.

"I'll be fine, love, really. Just wanted you to know it’s not a cop out. Swear I really wanted to finally meet you. Properly."

"Well I don’t want to push any boundaries so feel free to say no. But maybe I could still come over?" you say tentatively, "We don't need to go out to some expensive restaurant, could just be comfortable at your place...If you want of course, no pressure."

“Really?” Simon asks, hope emanating as he listened to your words.

“Yeah, I mean, honestly home stuff is cosier anyway.”

“I don’t have anything in the fridge.” he says, almost as if he’s trying to dissuade you. He doesn't want to of course, but he just thinks for a moment that maybe he's imagining you.

“Didn’t you say there’s a nice Vietnamese place near yours that delivers? I’m down for that.” you suggest.

“Really?” Simon repeats, an actual grin on his face now and he's thankful you can't see him.

“Yeah, why not?”

And that was that, Simon was already smiling to himself, thankful to everything that he hadn't deleted that stupid app when he was going to. Even his dog gave him a look of sorts and he just laughed,

She might be the one, little guy.

When you turned up, Simon absolutely forgot how to speak, all nerves and blushes as you hugged him. But it was good nerves, and ones that died down relatively quickly once he'd shown you around and spoken to you a little.

Honestly he found himself staring a little too often and had to keep reminding himself to not look too much like an obsessed weirdo. The evening flew by pretty quickly, you guys ordered your food, eating it in front of the tv. It was a real casual setting but he liked it and you did too.

The conversation was just as relaxed in person and even his dog liked you, snuggling up against your leg during the evening, not even sparing Simon a glance.

Damn traitor

“I’m glad you called.” Simon begins nervously, as he looks over at you, “You know, as in, instead of thinking I was an ass.”

“An ass for what?” you ask, confused. One of your hands absentmindedly rests on his arm and it's a feeling Simon could get used to, one that felt natural.

“Well...for potentially cancelling.” 

“Simon, you were anxious. If anyone has been mad at you for cancelling for that reason before, then they’re the asshole, not you.”

And he feels so lucky to have met you, grateful he went through with messaging you that day. The warmth of your presence, the natural ease of your conversation, and the genuine concern you showed meant so much to him.

This wasn’t just a random fleeting encounter. It felt like the beginning of something real, which is exactly what he wanted.

As the night grew late, you both found yourselves laughing at a silly movie, hands wandering slightly, but not too much. Honestly the two of you were so comfortable, anyone would think you were already 5 years deep into a relationship.

Your laughter was infectious, and for the first time in a long while, Simon felt a sense of peace wash over him. The worries that usually plagued his mind seemed distant, almost insignificant. Eventually, you both fell into a comfortable silence, just enjoying each other's company. His dog, fast asleep at your feet and a sure sign of approval if there ever was one.

“Tonight was really nice,” you said softly, breaking the silence.

“Yeah, it was,” Simon agreed, his voice equally soft. He glanced over at you, your eyes reflecting the soft glow of the TV. “Thank you for being so understanding.”

You smiled, a warm, genuine smile that almost made him blush again. “Anytime, Si. I mean it.”

“Can we do this again?” he asked, a hint of vulnerability in his voice.

“I’d like that,” you replied, your smile reassuring him.

And as the night eventually came to an end, Simon was laying in bed, a content smile on his face as he finally deleted that damned app, but this time for a good reason.

༄ cod m.list

© veritasangel ↣ 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘱𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘴

[tourturestarradio]

𝐃𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘 𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐍𝐀

“𝐇𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐬𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤, 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐞! 𝐃𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐃𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐚”

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

Prompt: Deadpool x kind reader x Wolverine 

Warnings: sexual jokes, jealous Logan, jealous Wade, suggestive

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮

You woke up to a knock at your door slowly getting up you peeked out your peep hole seeing Wade also looking through your peep hole. 

Opening the door Wade greeted you hugging you tightly “honey bun! My favorite sweetheart! My amazing baker! Love of my-“ you blinked in confusion “um Wade” you called out, he looked down at you “yes?” “Could you not shout please” Wade nodded “right I forgot it is pretty early” 

You walked over to your couch plopping down as Wade went to your kitchen “hey Honey bun!” He called out, “yes?” You hummed clicking on your tv “do you think you could help me with something!” He walked back into the living room “yeah…yeah sure” you yawned, Wade sat down beside you wrapping his arms around your torso pulling you into his lap.

“So…you’re a baker right?” You glanced at him a chuckle leaving your mouth “yes I am” he nodded playing with one of your hands as your other one flicked through different channels. 

“So I was scrolling on the internet trying to blow one off when I saw this great absolutely beautiful cake idea….and I was wondering if you could make it for me?” You nodded “sure what is it?” You asked looking at him “cinnamon roll cookies.” You stared at him trying to make sure you heard him correctly “what?” He shook your shoulders “please Honey bun! It’s would be great!” You grabbed his wrists “alright…” 

Getting up you looked down at him “when do you need it?” He grew excited “yay! Okay, um by tomorrow ” “Wade!” You whined, he grabbed your shoulders “first, don’t whine my name like that it’ll turn me on, second pleaseeeee! It’ll be great!” He rested his chin on the top of your head poking where your nipples would be “I miss your eating your desert….that could mean two things” You grew flustered swatting away his hand. 

“F…Fine but I’ll need to go to the store first” you hummed, Wade gave you a cheesy smile “thanks honey bun bye now!” He hurried out of your apartment as You sighed.

Waving bye to him you yawned “Alright bye Wade, if you want you can help out and tell Logan I said hi!” He shut the door leaving you alone, you started to get dressed for the day. 

Leaving your apartment you went off to the store. 

Your eyes scanned the shelves trying to find the right ingredients you only need two more things why were they so hard to find?! You felt a light tap on your shoulder turning around you spotted a taller male with black hair he was kinda handsome “am I in your way? I’m sorry” the male shook his head “no but were you muttering about brown sugar?” He asked. 

You gulped embarrassed that you were muttering to yourself in public “oh um yeah I can’t find that or cinnamon for some reason?” You frowned, the male looked in his basket “if you want you can take mines” he offered a friendly smile on his face. 

You shook your head “no, no it’s alright” he handed the brown sugar to you “no it’s fine you can take it” he stated you grabbed the bag “you sure?” He chuckled and nodded “yeah I’m sure you probably need it more than me” he reassured, a smile graced your face “thanks you’re a real life saver” He waved you off “oh stop just trying to help, I’m Jackie by the way” you placed the sugar in the cart “I’m Y/n” you replied.

You both made friendly conversation a few laughs being shared between you too “so what are you making these for?” He asked, you placed the cinnamon in your cart “making cinnamon roll cookies for a friend he has a sweet tooth” the male seemed to make a face at the word ‘he’ leaving your mouth.

But he ignored that and nodded “sounds delicious, reminds me of the cinnamon rolls I had at this cafe a while ago” he stated, you glanced at him “oh what cafe” he thought for a moment “(cafe name) they have really good desserts” you perked up at the mention of your cafe “that’s my Cafe!” He laughed “you’re lying” you shook your head “nope just opened it a month ago glad you like my stuff” you smiled nudging him with your elbow. 

He blushed lightly, you bought your things “hey um you need help carrying that?” He asked you nodded “yes that would be nice thanks” he carried your bags luckily the apartment wasn’t far from the store. 

He helped you bring your things up to your apartment “alright thanks Jackie hope to meet you again” you stated placing your things inside “wait um Y/n…” you looked back at him “would you wanna grab a drink later maybe around 9 maybe 9:30?” He asked.

You blinked “oh I don’t know I gotta start working on these-“ “please it’ll be great I promise” he hummed, you thought for a moment “alright that’s if I can get these finished before then” he nodded a smile growing on his face “wanna trade numbers?” You nodded pulled out your phone.

“Okay bye Jackie” you gave him a side hug shutting your door, he walked away a grin plastered on his face. You sighed “okay let’s get started.” 

You wiped the sweat from your forehead as you carefully wrapped the cookies checking the time you saw it was close to 9 o’clock. “Oh no” quickly you pulled off your clothes to go freshen up. 

You slid on your party dress it was a dark red and backless, you hadn’t worn it in a while so it was a little smaller the end of the dress just making right below your ass.

You put on some jewelry and styled your hair, sliding on your kitten heels you grabbed the tray of cookies and your purse. Going over to Wades apartment you knocked lightly on the door, it opened revealing an annoyed looking Logan.

His eyes went wide seeing you “Y/n uh what…what are you-“ “hi Logan! can you give these to Wade I gotta go” you hummed texting Jackie Logan stared at you.

You were already hot enough seeing you in that outfit really made him feel a little hot “where are you headed?” He asked, what did you need to be this dressed up for you were already sexy as is?

You glanced up from your phone “hm? Oh I’m going on a date” Logan felt a harsh jab in his chest “…a…date?” He questioned, you nodded “yes so can you give these to Wade please-“ “peanut who are you talking with- oh my ragging boner, Honey bun?!” Wade shoved Logan aside “you got all dressed up just for me” he placed his hand on his heart “that’s so cute but that’s gonna be off in a matter of seconds” he said taking the tray of cookies.

You shook your head “oh no um I’m going on a date” you explained, Wade froze “I’m sorry what?” He looked confused “I’m going on a date but tell me how the cookies taste bye see you in a bit.”

Wade stopped you “wait, wait, wait, you’re going on a date?” You nodded your head slowly “yep so I have to go-“ Wade frowned “but we were supposed to hang out…” he sounded so heartbroken, felt that way to. 

You sighed “I’ll be back in a bit we’re just getting drinks” you explained, Wade waved you off “no, no go be with your Prince Charming that’s more important than me, than us!” He pouts grabbing Logan’s arms who quickly swatted away his hand. 

You frowned “it’s not like that Wade” You looked at Logan for help but he also looked hurt, Wade flopped down on the couch like a deflated balloon Huffing you walked in “fine. I’ll stay.” 

Wade shot up hugging you “great! I knew you wouldn’t leave us for that incel loser!” You rolled your eyes “I feel bad for just bailing on him, he was pretty sweet” Logan rested his hands on your hips coming up behind you “trust me sweetheart I can treat you much better than him” Wade corrected “we can” You gulped feeling the heated tension rise.

You tilted your head “really?” Wade’s eyes were trained on your lips “really.” Logan’s hands traveled up and down your sides “then show me?” You hummed Wade smirked “challenge excepted.” He hummed.

Jackie called your number again but still it went straight to voicemail “fucking bitch…pick up the phone.” Just as he requested you answered only it was you it was a males voice “sorry Y/n can’t come to the phone right now she’s a little occupied at the moment but leave a message!” Jackie opened his mouth to speak when he heard moans in the background of the call.

“Ha…Harder Logan! Please, pl…please! Fill me up” Right before he hung up he heard the other voice speak “hey save some for me! Sorry Jackie’s but she’s taken already- Beep!” The phone shut off leaving Jackie stunned.

He threw his phone “fucking two timing whore!” 

Logan glanced over “was that him?” Wade laughed “yep” Logan petted your hair “could have let her answer” he joked, Wade shook his head “hey you know it’s rude to talk with your mouth full!” 

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮

A/n: IM OBSESSED WITH X MEN AND DEADPOOL RN RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHGHHHH 

[depresssant]

NEGLECTFUL!PLATONIC!YAN!batfam x GN!reader

synopsis : growing up with a shit mom and constant step-dads and mom's boyfriends, your view on life has grown pretty bleak. you just want to die, since it doesn't seem to get better than this. things can't get any worse, can they?

so reader is very flawed ppl. i’m trying to make this as gn as possible for pls bear with me. asks and requests r open. reblogs are also much appreciated. now that i’ve gotten my e-begging out of the way, enjoy this pathetic excuse of a story

warnings : child abuse, past sexual abuse, yandere, etc

you want to die.

you always do.

staring at the wanna be thug pointing a gun at you, you sigh and roll your eyes in exasperation. perhaps pissing him off will the best way to get him to curl a finger around the trigger. or judging by his temperament, you won't have to do much.

"you? i should give my money to you?"

"who the fuck do you think you are, bitch?" the thug screams at you angrily. his grip gets tighter and clammier. he's not experienced with this. he's probably ganged up with a bunch of thugs to pull shit like this. it wouldn't take much to disarm him. "give me the fucking money before i blow your head off!"

"to a junkie like you?" you are a junkie, too, so you're not too sure about making fun of him for that. "i don't give money to hobos."

that is wrong, too. but you want to piss him off.

"that's it, you stupid bitch!" the thug's stances becomes defensive. his hateful glare is pointed at you while he musters the courage to actually press the trigger. he doesn't look like he'll do it. you've seen countless like him roaming the streets, holding you at gunpoint. he probably won't do it. then again, this is gotham. you don't expect much. either he'll shoot you dead, forcibly take your stuff, flee the scene out of fear, or be dismantled by one of the city's vigilantes. perhaps he'd shoo—

"stop right there!"

damn it.

you think too soon.

a young robin is quick to have the wanna be thug tied up and beat down. you would've questioned why a kid who seemingly looked twelve can do such a thing, but you've learned to not question most things in your life. you merely sigh in disappoint and pick up your dropped backpack before beginning the journey to hell.

"excuse me? wait! where are you headed?"

gosh, his boy-ish voice grates your nerves. makes you clench your teeth. your gaze narrows, but you know better than to react. reaction gains a reaction—one that will never be in your favor. it'll lead to a fight—one that will never be in your favor. you'll end up broken, bleeding, and bruised. now that isn't something in your favor. now you're thinking of favor too much. forcing a smile, you turn around to face the pre-teen vigilante. "yes?"

"are you alright?" he asks with practiced concern. he doesn't actually care. it's probably just protocol.

"a-okay!" the words are hollow. they lack depth. like you. "thank you for your help. i don't know what would've happened to me if you weren't there."

you do know. you wish you wouldn't.

"you're welcome," robin replies with polished words like he's not exactly convinced. "would you like for me to walk you? the city hasn't been safe for some time now."

"when is it ever safe? but that's okay. i live just around the corner, so i think i'll be fine."

"are you sure—"

"completely."

please. why won't he just leave you alone? there goes your plan spoiled by him again. every time you've been in an attempted robbing, he's been there to destroy your chances of getting shot. of escaping. he always does this. this is a repeated cycle between the two of you. he's a flying bird until you shoot him down. your name clearly wants to escape from his lips, but robin nods his head in understanding.

"this seems to happen to you all the time. my wish is for you to be safe."

"this is gotham." the grip on the straps on your backpack tighten. "everyone's gotta go through this. anyways, i gotta go, you know. thanks for savin' me."

"of course."

you don't spare him a single glance. the sky is wrapped up in black clouds heavy with the burden of rain. icy cold wind sings a melancholy tune through the stiff air. the door to your apartment looks like the gates of hell. it's all futile. no matter how many sighs you sigh, how many wishes you wish, and how many curses you curse, you'll still land up in the same fate. without escape.

that is the summary of your life.

taking a few seconds to prepare yourself for the incoming session, you open the door to be met with radio silence. silence is never good. half the time, it means something is brewing for you, and they're taking their sweet time to scare you into thinking nothing will happen. sometimes. not all the time. the other time, it just means he need to rise from his pile of misery first.

the hand of your mother's boyfriend is instantly wrapped around your neck before you can even register why the hell the apartment looks like a tornado hit it. he squeezes so tightly you feel like blood is gushing out of your ears with how loudly they ring. white spots dot along your blurry sight as you struggle to breathe. you can hear a frantic voice telling him to let you go, but you're pushed up more against the wall. this is the norm. doesn't mean it hurts any less. he'll let you go, give you some time to regain your breath, and then rain down bullets upon you.

that's exactly what happens.

your hand goes straight to your neck as your raspy and shaky coughs wreck your chest. he squeezes hard enough for it to hurt but it not show. and then the kicks and punches come. with how much your chest and ribs are struck, you're a bit surprised at how you haven't broken a bone yet. your potential step-father screams at you, but you can barely hear it over the repetition of words in your head. he grabs your bloody face and shout something incoherent before letting you go to kick you.

leaving you in your own pile of misery.

it's normal. yes, it's completely normal. you're used to this. it'll get better. it always does. but you've got the crushing idea it never will.

gotham heights high school—the school you're forced to attend.

the class division is insane to look at, because it's there even from a short and near prospective. how the richest kids got put in a school with the poorest—you'll never know. the only thing you do know is that every one of these kids are pieces of shit. even the ones that pretend to be nice.

tim drake—or shall you say tim wayne—is no different.

even as he helps up the girl who just got roughly pushed to the floor, causing all her textbooks to scatter, you can only eye him with disdain. if he really cares, then he would've beat the shit out of those athletes. but he doesn't. they're all the same—privileged and all. sympathy shouldn't be given to them. not to drake or the wealthy yet somehow bullied girl.

"but y'know what i heard?" your friend drags your attention back to him. zarian leans against a locker lazily, but excitement practically buzzes off of him. "the bruce wayne is coming to our track meet today!"

your other friend, jaylene, rolls her eyes as she applies her eyeliner using the mirror hanging up on the inside door of her locker. she speaks exactly what you're thinking. "only because his beloved son is gonna be there."

"well, still. think about the connections we can make! all the famous people that'll be there."

"keep dreaming. asshat. i put all my money on the attention being on rich the kid. i don't even know why he joined track. varsity, at that, too. there has to be some sort of bribery going on."

an incoming argument is clearly brewing up, so you take in a deep breath to say something, but a new voice beats you to it.

"excuse me?"

you and your two friends turn to face the guy standing in front of you. charismatic, intelligent,  and optimistic—he's an enigma that shines on everyone. tim drake. his black, messy yet somehow in place hair does no justice for his good looks. he's the complete package. rich, good looking, tall, and empathetic. the mere sight of him annoys you.

zarian is the first to speak up. he quirks a brow and offers tim a grin. "what's up, man?"

"you're leaning against my locker." tim rubs the back of his neck. he smiles awkwardly in the presence of the three of you, and it takes your friend a beat to understand what he's saying before moving away.

"oh yeah. my fault," he says as he moved to stand next to you.

the school's very own bruce wayne only shakes his head and tells him it's okay while opening his locker and grabbing a few things. people flock around, waiting for him to be done with whatever the hell he's doing, so they can be back to his side like leeches sucking on blood. he surely can't be this dumb, no? these people don't want to be his friend...

well, it's not as if it's your problem. you wish it is. you and your friends turn to make way to first period, but drake clearly has other plans. he sandwiches himself between you and zarian with a grin of his own plastered on an unblemished face. one carefree of any worry or pain. "so," tim begins. "first track meet of the year, huh? aren't you guys nervous?"

jaylene merely hums in amusement and shrugs. "it gets better. when you've spent four years in track—in front of all those judging people—it wears off. hopefully, you'll get used to it soon."

that is jab, though, rich the kid doesn't seem to catch on. he laughs casually, but even you can sense the anxiety like it was radioactive. ""i hope so. i've sprinted so much i feel like i'll get shin splits again."

you zone out while he has a conversation with your friends. as if drake has ever had experience with track. it took you all of freshman year to just prove that you can actually be a part of the track team, and here tim drake is, parading around about getting on varsity without a single grain of hard work. he's a naturally talented person. good at everything. that's what makes you hate him so much. people like him get everything handed to them just because they're good at it first hand and leave behind people that actually work for it. you want to tell him to buzz off—that he can't talk about how much he's practiced and how nervous he is, but you keep your mouth shut. that is, until he directly addresses you.

tim's eyes narrow at you with comedic suspicion. "you know, you look like someone i know. a lot. the resemblance is crazy."

"eight billion people out there. you never know." your tone is flat, stoic, lacking any bit of emotion.

"gosh, you even sound like him! that's really terrifying."

"well, whoever, it is, i hope i never meet him," you murmur.

your two friends leave for their classes soon, and you and drake find your seats at the back of high school economics. exhaustingly so, you sit together in one of the many desk pairs, and drake uses this opportunity to annoy you any chance he gets. you give off the vibe that you don't want to talk to him. he doesn't get the hint. you don't tell him, though. maybe that's the problems. his shit-eating grin ticks you off when you look in his direction. "what?"

"let's be friends!"

"no."

"what? come on! don't be so cold!" he whines like a petulant child being told no.

"no."

"too bad! you're my friend now."

"tim," you sigh. it's wrong to scream. it's bad to scream. screaming leads to fights. fights lead to you laying in a pool of your own blood. laying in blood leads to missing practice. missing practice leads to less skill. less skill leads to less of a chance of getting the hell out of here. just smile. forgive and forget. know your persona. know who you are. kind. happy. funny. "fine." so you smile with gritted teeth. you smile like you played a cruel joke on him. "we can be friends... i guess."

his face brightens at your fake words like he is just given the the world.

tim drake wiggles his eyebrows playfully and nudges you with his elbow. "you know, i've been trying to get you to say that since school started?"

"really now?"

"really. i'm glad we're going to be friends. oh! should we go out to eat with zarian and jaylene after the meet?"

... there's a chance your mom's boyfriend will get pissed off. he'll probably beat the shit out of you since the track meet would have happened, and you wouldn't need to have an unblemished body for meets. he'd scream, yell, and punch... like his life depended on it... fuck it.

"yeah," you reply shortly after with a firm nod of your head. "we can go to this diner near the theater. i'm sure you'll love the food."

this doesn't mean you hate him any less. he's still rich scum⏤how you're poor scum. he's stuck up, pretentious, and sickeningly sweet. exactly what you hate. you just hope you can have a good time after the track meet. the mischievous glint in his eyes told you otherwise.

"and this is my dad, bruce wayne."

what the hell are you doing?

the sun is setting along the horizon, the air is getting cooler again, and you want to sink into the floor. the plan was to head straight to the diner after this, but rich the kid somehow roped you into meeting his dad?

nausea pools in your stomach from both hunger and the feeling of thousands of eyes staring at you. cameras are flashing at gotham's billionaire as he smiles and firmly shakes your hand. confidence drips off of him disgustingly. his high-tailored suit radiates wealth and money. his stoic demeanor gives off an aura of mystery. you want to lay on a railroad track with an incoming train speeding along the way.

"it's nice to meet you. tim has ranted about his track teammates quite a lot."

there's an eleven year old standing next to him. his eyes are on you like that of an owl's but you neither glance at him or bother to acknowledge him. you just want to eat some food before meeting your doom at that apartment for not placing first like your mom's boyfriend wanted you to. like a goat getting stuffed before slaughter. it always leads down to that. no matter how many times you try to wish it was different. no matter how many times you imagine it to be different. no matter how many times you try to make it different.

"nice to meet you too." you shake his hand as well with a polite smile on your face. polite. calm. gentle. proper. "and yeah, he seems very eager to be on the team."

"of course, of course. well, it is getting late. why don't you come over for dinner some time?"

"maybe tonight?" tim suddenly adds in. at your hesitant expression, he groans in exasperation. "who do you think we are? blood-sucking bats? come on, we can go to the diner some other time!"

you have just met him... you've just accepted being his friend... you aren't the most social person. you've never had much friends, but even you can understand that dinner with the family doesn't happen until the friend and person have come close in a long period of time. jaylene and zarian have other matters to tend to, so it's going to be just you and tim at a diner. not⏤

ding!

your phone's notification's alarm chimes, and when you check who has sent you a message, you feel like getting on the ground to pray to whatever deity for letting you have a moment of peace.

mom: ⏤he's heavily drunk. don't come home.

a part of you is hit with a strong current full of guilt. this is your mother. you're supposed to be there for her through thick and thin. you're supposed to protect her and be her wall of defense against monsters like him. family look out for each other. you have to take care of her... but she doesn't take care of you. this makes you a terrible person. you know that. she'll probably get beaten to an inch of her life and hide her heavy bruises under makeup that was terribly done in a rush. and then, she'll throw whatever object is in sight at you in a fury of anger.

telling you she made too many sacrifices for you. telling you that you're ruined her life. telling you that she should've aborted you like your father had told her to. telling you exactly what you believe yourself. a curse that should've never been born... she'll be beaten within an inch of her life. but you have already lost yours.

after pretending to text her and sliding your phone into the pocket of your sweatpants, you nod with a sigh of joking resignation. "sure. i asked my mom, and she said it's okay."

"wonderful." mr. wayne nods and gestures to the limo you can see in the parking lot. a bit of overkill, perhaps.

honestly, you're still surprised that gotham's billionaire is inviting you to dinner. this man is the topic of magazines, and you're about to take a ride in his limo. how the hell have you ended up in a situation like this? fate is still fucking with you, isn't it?

you find yourself seated next to tim while mr. wayne and his youngest son, damian, sit on the seats to your right. they're talking about something, but once again, you find yourself half listening and zoning out, staring at nothing until mr. wayne's questions pulls you back to reality.

"so how has school been faring for you?" mr. wayne asks in a cool and collected tone.

you laugh lightly and smile as politely as ever. "pretty good. i hope to leave gotham after graduation to study somewhere else."

"who would want to stay in gotham?" tim rolled his eyes, rolling the first place medal between his fingers. "by the way, remember when i said you looked like someone i know? i was talking about my dad?"

your brows rise in both exasperation and annoyance at his claims. now he's just plain, out right trying to make fun of you in front of a billionaire. your shoulders tense, ready to refute his claims, but mr. wayne surprisingly chuckles and rubs his chin while taking a good look at your face. "well, i can see it, but there's eight billion people out there in the world. i'm bound to look like someone. though, i didn't expect for it to be someone as talented as [name] here."

you force a quiet laugh along at the sound of his tone. foreboding. you know tones like this. like he's hiding something that they all know except for you. it means you've made a mistake in even giving in to tim drake's constant begging. why the hell was he so eager to have you become his friend? why is he so eager to maintain a friendship with you? why the hell has mr. wayne invited you to dinner when he's rumored to be mysterious, secretive, and a literal brick wall that nobody can get past?

"you've achieved so much for a child your age." mr. wayne sets his gaze dead on you. "your father must be so proud."

and his eyes glimmer with that same shine you saw in tim's.

ewwww

this was not proofread so forgive me and uh, i will be turning this into a series

um also making a tag list if anyone wants to be a part of it