#and it was after i was so sure i could handle taking a break from the comic

[paranoiastudio]

pairing: Art Donaldson х f!reader

warnings: 18+ smut, p in v, cheat?

English is not my first language, sorry about mistakes

- Would you fuck me, Art? - You ask point-blank, causing Art to choke on his drink. - If it weren't for Patrick, would you have fucked me?

This conversation should not have happened. You didn’t want to go to this party, but you forced yourself to come. You didn’t want to discuss your relationship with anyone, but Art knew about your last fight with Patrick and approached you himself.

And now, after three bottles of beer and a sincere conversation, you find yourself asking a similar question and understand that stopping now is not an option.

You looked at Art so intently, so alluringly, that he simply could not lie to you. And he decided not to lie, finally admitting how much he was attracted to his friend’s girl.

- I would fuck you right now if you asked. - Art whispers this on your lips.

The air around you becomes heavier every second, you feel the familiar heat in your lower abdomen and lick your lips, only attracting the attention of the man’s gaze to you.

- Would you fuck me?

- Yes. - You answer, perhaps, too quickly.

- If it weren't for Patrick, that's right?

- No. I... I would fuck you now, right here... If you asked me.

Your words seem to have broken Art Donaldson. He looks at you silently, thinking about what he heard. He should leave right now: you're his friend's girlfriend, you're a little drunk and upset, you can make mistakes.

But you still look at him, just five minutes ago you said that you were tired of Patrick and wanted to change something. Does this mean you're leaving Patrick?

- Ask me, Art... - Everything except you loses the sound. How can he refuse you? Art has wanted you, you was so close and yet so far away.

Art is a strong man, with a well-trained will, but even he is now ready to break. All he wants now is to be close to you and he doesn't care about the consequences.

- Let's go. - You accept his hand without objection and follow the guy, noting how soft his skin is. Patrick's hands were heavy and hard, Art's were not like that. Having pushed away this comparison, you turn to the crowd, no one seems to care that you are going up to the second floor.

- Whose room is this? - You lean your back on the door, Art leans towards you, otherwise your whisper would not be able to be heard.

- Guest room. Did you lock it?

You pull the handle twice, wanting to check for sure. After making sure that you won’t be disturbed, I quickly take off my shoes, embarrassed to wear shoes in someone else’s house, and sit down next to Art.

- Are you sure? - Art wanted to know for sure, he had to make sure that you really wanted this.

- More than. And you?

- And I. Can I kiss you? - You push back a strand of hair from your forehead and nod, submitting to the tennis player’s touch. Art kisses your neck, his open mouth exploring your hot skin and his hand squeezing your bare knee, not going any further.

- Don't be afraid, I don't bite painfully. - You giggle, seeing only tenderness and affection in Art’s eyes, not a hint of mockery or playfulness, as was often the case with Patrick.

- I’ll be ready to endure even if you take a bite out of me. - Art strokes your cheek with his thumb.

You reach for the next kiss and lightly bite the man’s lip, trying to force him to open his mouth. Art's tongue is very warm and tastes like a mixture of cider and something bitter. He glides weightlessly, pulling you into a long and affectionate kiss and you move easily, feeling his tenderness embrace you.

- I’ve always wanted you... - Art rests his forehead on your shoulder and runs his nose along your skin. - Patrick just... Damn.

- Hey... - You lift Art’s face by the chin. - He's not here, you know? Patrick is an asshole and we both know it. Looks like I picked the wrong guy...

You push Art onto the bed and sit on top of him. The mention of your arrogant and stubborn boyfriend (ex-boyfriend) made you angry and added courage.

- We don't talk about Patrick anymore, okay? - Art nods, watching you in fascination. - Fine. Now touch me.

You begin to pull off Art’s shirt, your hips rise and the man immediately puts his hands on your legs, stroking the skin and rising higher and higher.

- I don’t think we’ll need that. - You unbutton the tennis player’s light trousers and pull them down along with your underwear just enough to free half-erect cock.

- I... Please. - Art whines underneath you, which can’t help but make you grin, you haven’t even touched him yet. - Please, I want it so much...

You take the penis in your hand and make a few slow movements. The soft skin pleasantly rubs against your hand, with your other hand you would grab Art’s balls, he almost jumps on the bed and shamelessly moves his hips towards you.

- My poor baby... - You coo over the already hard member and lubricate the droplets from the red tip with excitement. - No one has touched you for a long time, right?

Art looks at you pleadingly, he is ready to ask, beg you, but you yourself are already on the verge and won’t be able to tease him for long. Especially when Art gets his finger under the hem of your underwear...

- Oh shit! - You stop all actions, and, lifting up your dress, you move your underwear and push yourself onto Ard Donaldson’s dick.

- God! - He opens his eyes wide and squeezes your hips so hard that you are sure that the dress was torn.

- You're so big... - You didn't lie, Art's dick isn't as long as Patrick's, but his girth stretches you out much better. - So good, Art.

A man bites his lip when he hears his name from your lips, it is one of the most beautiful sounds in the world. You both breathe heavily, getting used to the feeling of complete intimacy, you suddenly realize that you are not using a condom (if you believe Patrick’s stories, Art has never been with anyone at all).

You wiggle your hips, smiling predatorily at another hoarse moan, you always liked men who were not shy about the fact that they were receiving pleasure, and Art, with his heightened sensitivity, was just like that.

You lower your hot palms onto his chest, play with the short blond hairs and lean on him, starting to lift your hips.

Art huffs and whines beneath you, his strong hands gripping the blanket until his skin turns white. He doesn’t take his eyes off you, trying not to close his eyes from the pleasure that you and your beautiful velvet pussy give him, which hugs him so tightly that you want to howl.

- I feel you so deeply... - You push back the unruly hair from your face and smile, it was always nice to be filled, especially with Art. With him you feel a certain exclusivity; he seemed to be in inhuman bliss.

- Please, I... Damn! - Art sharply raises his hips and you hear a loud slap with which your bodies met.

- Touch me. - Art immediately slides his hand between your bodies and rubs your clitoris with his thumb. You spread your legs wider so he can see exactly how he slides in and out of you. - It’s so nice, Art.

His name sounds like a song from your lips and Art moves his hands to your waist, helping you move faster. He feels his own dick twitching and tries not to cum at the moment when you squeeze him especially tightly.

- I'm going to cum. - Your voice trembles and you moan, throwing your head back. - Do not stop...

Art continues to move inside you, cumming profusely and swallowing all his sounds, wanting to listen to your delicious sighs longer. You feel a mixture of your secretions flowing out of you, you feel how Art becomes softer inside you. You feel like you did everything right.

- I think we need to call Patrick. - You're breaking the "We don't talk about Patrick anymore" rule. - I'll take my things.

- I will help you. - Art gently traces circles on the skin of your thighs, the fact that you were still connected did not bother either of you. - I have plenty of space at home.

#challenges #art donaldson #mike faist #challenges imagine #challengers smut #art donaldson x fem!reader #art donaldson imagine #art donaldson smut #art donaldson x reader #imagine #smut

[railingsofsorrow]

stupid heart

summary: third and final installment of old habits  

pairing: emily prentiss x f!bau!reader 

warnings/content: reader is a Simp, emily is a Simp, they are Simps for each other; language; lots of yearning and eye contact; penelope being a matchmaker; bruises (mentioned); there is... fluff! I promise; paragraph in italics are memories.

A/N: here is the last part of old habits. i didn't know you guys would even like the first one tbh but I'm glad you asked for a part 2 because it was so fun to write this and make it a three-part mini-series. i hope you like the ending!

navi  

masterpost 

cm masterlist

[part 1] [part 2]

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you were on your lunch break when something vibrated and made you jump and hit your knee on your desk. you cursed rather loudly, attracting tara's attention to you as you held your leg with a painful groan. 

“how's the desk?” 

“fuck off.” 

she laughed, shaking her head and going back to her own paperwork. when she saw the time though, she was the first to venture off to have lunch.  

“are you staying the whole day sitting there? your butt will become a square.” 

you sighed, scratching your brow. if you left now, you would never finish this on time. you weren't even sure if you would finish on time if you stayed now, but eh, it was what you had at the moment. you didn't want to leave paperwork hanging, it would pile up like today. that sucked. 

“i'm good. bring me a muffin, though?” you knew she would have lunch in a restaurant nearby and your favorite bakery was side by side with it. “i'm craving something sweet.”  

tara scoffed with a knowing look. “you're always craving something sweet, like a tiny ant.” she proceeded to ruffle your hair on her way out and you were about to tell her to fuck off again if your boss wasn't walking inside the bullpen as pretty as ever. 

it was a relatively slow day at the bureau. you didn't have a case, which was rare, extremely rare and also extremely weird. slow days had pros and cons. one of the pros was that you could stay in the office without seeing any dead bodies and bloodied crime scenes for a change, one of the cons was that you had a ton of paperwork to fill out. it was boring. you moved to the kitchenette to get your fifth refill of coffee and then move back to your desk to drown yourself in filling out reports.  

it was emily's day off. you vividly recall penelope making a bet on how many hours emily would handle being out of the office, she received a middle finger.  

but here she was, and penelope was right. 

“hey, is there still a lot of those for you to finish?” she threw the question on her way to her office, switching her briefcase to her right hand to inspect the pile of manila folders with the other. 

emily was wearing a well-fitted black suit, a white shirt beneath it, and black trousers. black looked good on her. or any color for that matter. but emily's all-black outfits made you enter in cardiac arrest back in the day.  

who are you kidding? they still do.

“yes,” you leaned back in your chair, fiddling with your pen as you gazed up at her curiously. “isn't today supposed to be your day off?” 

“no, that's next week.” it's like the lie was waiting to come out. she grabbed at least ten files from your pile and gave you a wink before walking away. “i can help with that.” 

“you—hey!” you whispered-yelled, stumbling after her into her office. “you can't just take this.” you scolded her with a shake of your head, attempting to grab the files back. “it's your day off, emily. go home.” it was not next week. her day off was today, you knew it was. she always did that as an excuse to come in to work and do something. emily prentiss was restless, but she couldn't just take your heavy workload if she had one of her own. 

“i'm not going home.” she dropped her briefcase on the couch inside her office, closing the door before she circled around her desk and sat down. “i have spare time, so leave these here.” 

you pointed at the files on her desk, “are those your spare time?”  

“it's less than yours.” she rested her chin on the back of her hand, lips' corners lifting slightly.  

you sighed halfheartedly, “that's because I let it pile up through the weeks.” 

“give me half then,” she placed her hand on top of the files before you could drag it away and ran off from her office.  

you stared at her hand on top of yours for a hot minute until you got out of your daze and dropped at least three files on top of hers, glancing up at her with your brow raised.  

“you get three if you promise to not come in tomorrow and get some rest.” 

her lips stretched into a smirk as she leaned back on her chair, fingertips tapping against her laptop. she gazed up at you, a challenging glint in her eyes that you wouldn't fall for. this was you negotiating and she never won a negotiation with you. not when you were right, at least.  

emily rolled her eyes with a huff, “fine.” she said, playfully glaring at you as you grinned in victory with your files back in your hand.  

she enjoyed this dynamic. it almost felt as if the two of you were back to normal. the teasing. the playful annoyance. the excuses to be around one another — that part was entirely emily's fault and she didn't regret it.  

she knew you wouldn't let her take half of your workload with her just like that. she might have lost a few points in the bargaining, but she earned a lot of joy in seeing your satisfied smile as you left her office with a slightly less bigger pile of reports.  

as you dropped the files on your desk, you notice your hands were cramping, begging for you to take a break and you decided to do exactly that. you had been up since 8 am working non-stop, you deserved a little break, didn't you? and a coffee refill. 

your desk began to vibrate and you hit your knee against the hardwood, again. which made remember you have a phone and said phone was responsible for all the purple bruises you'll have on your knee. you yanked the drawer open with a low curse and grabbed your cell phone, not looking at the caller ID as you picked up the call. 

"what." jj looked up from her computer screen with an amused expression upon hearing your short tone. you walked into the kitchenette when the person's voice echoed through your ear while they pretended to be offended.  

"is that your way of saying you miss me?" spencer mumbled into the phone. you rolled your eyes while making another coffee pot. "hello to you too." 

"did you call before? you made me hit my knee twice, it hurt like a bitch." 

"how would I have made you hit your knee twice if I'm two hours and 1,051 miles away from you?" 

you let out a sigh, a smile creeping up on your lips at your best friend calling you. "hello, spencer. how's the honeymoon going?" 

you could see him scrunching his nose as he replied, "we're not married, it's not a honeymoon." 

"you're visiting his family, you might as well be married." 

he paused, stuttering a bit before he admitted something that made you squeak in delight in the kitchenette. rossi blinked at you as he poured himself a cup of coffee. you waited until he left the room to throw all your questions at spencer.  

"he proposed?!" 

"yes," spencer said, probably flushing red in the other side. you wish you could just tackle him into a hug and tell him how happy you were for him. ethan, spencer's boyfriend (now fiancée), was so in love with him, you knew it was only a matter of time that they tie the knot. after what your best friend went through while working at the BAU, he of all people deserved to be happy. "last night, actually." 

“okay,” you held yourself back from acting like a teenager wanting to hear about the newest gossip. “okay, so, I'm not going to ask what I need to ask now because you're going to tell me everything when you come back to virginia. when do you come back to virginia?” 

“saturday. we're spending the rest of the week here.” 

“good.” you smiled. “that's so good. spencer?” 

“yeah?” 

“i am so happy for you. both of you. congratulations!” 

“thank you.” he chuckled. “i'll tell you everything you want to know when I get back, okay?” you hum in agreement. “how was your date?” 

your nose scrunched as hot coffee burned your tongue, “what date?” you got distracted putting sugar in your coffee.  

“the one last week? with dahlia stanford?” spencer clarified confusedly. “did you not go?” 

oh. that date. 

right. 

“no, I- I did go,” you uttered quietly. 

the thing was: you hated it. you tried not to because dahlia was sweet and kind and she was even funny during five minute of conversation. but then the topic only remained on her and how she loved high school and wished she could go back because it was the best time of her life, and oh! she was her mom's favorite daughter— there was never a breach for you to talk about you.  

it got tiring quickly. you were slightly annoyed and sad at the end of the night. annoyed because of the date and sad because, well, it was starting to be hopeless for you.  

you didn't had a lot of dates after your break up with emily. six months was too soon for you so you respected your time until hannah from HR asked you out for coffee and you ghosted her. timothy, a lead detective on a local case, took you to a museum and it was fun but you ghosted him too. and dahlia, from sex crimes, whom you invited to have dinner but it was the most boring evening of your life.  

maybe you were fated to be alone and you needed to accept that. 

“you don't want to talk about it, do you?” you were glad to have known spencer for a long time so he understood your silence through the phone. “how's everything there? is everyone okay? paperwork piling up again?” 

you scoffed annoyed, “yeah, easy for you to say. yours never piled up. give me your brain and it won't happen.” 

“that's not physically possible.” he snickered at your jab.  

“everyone's fine. we didn't have a case today so it's slow.” 

“how are you and emily?” 

your back straightened as you almost spilled the coffee on the floor. you cleared your throat, eyeing the door for any possible newcomers. 

“fine? why would you ask that.” 

spencer hummed, “because you were giving each other the silent treatment last time I asked and I had to hear it from garcia.” 

“yeah, well, penelope's a snitch and me and emily are fine.” you placed your mug on the counter, munching on your lower lip thoughtfully. “we're friends.” 

“oh?” spencer's mocked surprised tone made your brows furrow a little in suspicion. “that's an improvement.” 

“why do you sound as if you knew more than I'm letting on?” 

you heard muffled voices in the background on his end and he replied to someone else before coming back to you. “i don't know anything. I have no idea.” 

“you're a shitty liar, reid.” 

“look, I have to go. ethan is taking me somewhere I have no idea— he's saying hi— but I'll call you back, okay?” 

“hi ethan,” you said with a little smile. “yeah, okay, have fun, lovebirds. don't do anything I wouldn't do.”  

spencer called your name before hanging up. 

“yeah?” you said, moving towards the bullpen in direction of your desk. you had a good break, it was time to head back to work.  

“give your heart a chance. it's worth it. trust me with this, okay? goodbye.”  

you froze as you were about to sit down. you didn't get a chance of answering him before he hung up on you and what exactly were you even going to say? spencer reid and his fucking unwarranted advice to mess with your head.  

you only realized your eyes were lingering on the windows of the office above the stairs when the door opened and the unit chief walked out, her gaze locking into yours until you quickly diverted yours to your desk.  

“hi again.” emily greeted you, leaning her hip against your desk.  

“hey,” you looked up as you opened another file. one less to go. you saw something in her hand and glimpsed at it curiously. “what's that?” 

“that's alright, em.” you smiled softly. “thank you for safekeeping it.”  

“tara said you were craving something sweet and left this for you.” a small package was placed beside your files. you stared at the package and looked up at her, confused. if the package was for you then why was it with emily?

she seemed to grasp your train of thought, a rosy tint reaching her cheeks. your whole demeanor softened at her obvious embarrassment. “you weren't here, so she, mhm, she left it in my office so I could give it to you when you came back—” 

“sure. it was my pleasure.” emily was about to combust from awkwardness, was that possible?  

she said your name and you stopped in the middle of opening the package to glance up at her. she pulled up a chair so both of you were at eye-level now.  

“i have a proposition for you.” 

“i have a proposition for you.”  

you bit the straw of your milkshake, quickly writing down the last pieces of information on the report so you could finally be free to go home and have some sleep. the last case wiped you out. “i don't have time to bury a body now, if you just wait for five more minutes...” 

“I-what?” emily let out a dumbfounded laugh. “why is that the first thing that comes to your mind when I say I have a proposition?” your mouth stretched into a convinced smile, your eyes drifted to hers for a second before they go back to your messy handwriting. you were almost done.  

“because I would. bury a body for you. you're too pretty to go to jail.” you finished your chocolate milkshake and left the plastic cup aside. 

emily tapped her fingers on your desk, shaking her head at you in disapproval to which you grinned in response. 

“i hate it when you do that.” 

you blinked innocently. “do what?” 

she lowered her face closer to yours and you couldn't help but stare down at her lips. “flirt with me while we're at work because you know I can't do anything about it.” 

“mhm, then tell me the proposition, prentiss. I don't have all day.” 

“go on a date with me.”  

“i won't give you anymore reports.” you clicked your pen once, twice, as if this would expel the memory that just traveled through your mind.  

emily looked down at the manila folders in your desk, they were halfway through. “i could finish all of those today.” 

“right, let's not kid ourselves here, baby. we don't have the same reading speed as spencer reid.” 

you had the privilege of seeing her dimpled smile and for moment your brain stopped working.  

“what?” 

you called me baby. I missed that. 

“nothing.” she said, looking away. “about the proposition. there will be a lyrid meteor shower friday night and I was thinking about going to the observatory park in great falls. it's one of the best places to watch the night sky.” emily paused, leaving you anxiously waiting. “do you— would you like to come with me?” and she quickly added, much to your dismay. “as friends, of course.” you observed her fidget with your pen before she carried on.   

why did you feel so disappointed? it was what you wanted, right? to be friends with emily, it was at least a start to rekindle your friendship of years. it was the right thing to do.  

was it normal to also find your friend the most beautiful woman on earth and try so hard to not kiss her at any given moment? 

you didn't think so. 

“okay.”  

emily blinked at you, stunned. “okay?” 

you give her an amused smile, “yes, okay, em. we can go watch the meteor shower together. as friends.” 

her smile fell a little, “right. yes. that's great. so I'll pick you up around 8, is that good for you?” 

you nodded in agreement, “sure.” there was an awkward silence as both of you tried to find any other topic to talk about but you were too nervous with going somewhere with her just the two of you and she was incredibly awkward at the failed attempt for asking you out on a date. “emily?” you blurted out while standing up before she could leave. “i did went on a date, but I'm not going on another one.” you mumbled a curse under your breath. “i meant that it didn't work out.” jesus, was that hard to say?! 

“oh.” emily muttered, eyes traveling across your face, seeking any form of sadness over the fact that it didn't work out between you and whoever you went on a date with. okay, she knew who it was and even which department the person, dahlia?, worked in. perks of having penelope garcia as your technical analyst and honorary hacker. “i'm sorry.” 

no, she wasn't the slightest bit sorry. 

you let a choked-up laugh escape and you were fast to cover your mouth. emily's gaze brightened up at that. she made you laugh. this day couldn't get any better. 

“you do look very sorry, em.” 

she groaned with a roll of eyes. “hey, I am, okay? if you really liked her, so...” 

your eyes narrowed at her. you slowly stepped towards her, arms crossing over your chest. tilting your head, you said, “her? I never told you it was a her.” you knew you caught her when her lips parted and she just clipped her mouth shut after being out of bullshit to throw at you. “penelope.”  

it wasn't a question.  

emily's expression twitched in a guilty grimace and she feared this might just have ruined her plans to get you back. fuck. 

what could she do? she wasn't capable of lying to you. 

you raised a hand, cutting her off. “i'm not mad. it's fine.” 

emily sighed in relief, “really?”  

“yeah.” you gave her an eye roll, shaking your head but your lips betrayed you by lifting its corners as you went back to your chair and dropped down on the seat.  

emily munched on her upper lip, gathering her strength to just walk off and accept things as they were because you have to let time do its magic— god, she couldn't fucking do it. thanks, penelope, for your amazing advice but I am a restless woman. 

“and what if I don't want this to be a friendly hangout?” you gasped in surprise as she reappeared beside you, drawing her chair closer, bumping with the arms of your chair. “would it be a stretch to say that I want it to be a date?" 

emily's really pushing her luck here. 

"emily-" you croaked out, your voice suddenly rough, but she cut you off by grabbing your wrist tenderly.  

"I know I messed up. and I know I betrayed your trust which is something I'd never ever do it intentionally because I lo- because I care so deeply about you," emily admitted all of that, apparently forgetting you were in the middle of the bullpen. something you also didn't notice. "so just give me this chance, this one date. If you say no I'll completely understand, hell I'm probably being extremely pushy right now-" 

"emily." you tugged at her hand, jerking your head in the direction of her office so she could follow you there. you pulled her inside the room, closing the door by resting your back against it. you were finally away from prying eyes. "will you let me talk now?" 

she felt her cheeks warming up in shame.  

you took a step towards your ex-girlfriend, not believing what you were about to say because she was, well, your ex-girlfriend. and you're not supposed to say yes to a date with your ex when you're trying to get over them. 

"you're not being pushy. I was actually kind of hoping this would be a date until you said as friends." she mentally kicked herself at her doings. "I care about you too, okay? I can't just not care, emily." your shoulders slumped as you exhaled slowly. "so yes, this can be a date. and we can see how it goes from there." 

emily wanted to kiss you so bad right now and she wanted to cry at the same time. this meant you were giving her a chance, that you wanted to try as much as she did even if she didn't think she deserved it that much. but she wouldn't disappoint you this time.  

"you won't regret it." you hummed with a soft smile, messing with her fingers and then letting it go.  

"okay, boss. now, can I go back to work or will you keep me from my duties any longer?" 

"I'm debating that." 

you gave her a look, to which she grinned causing your heart to beat insanely fast inside your ribcage. you swallowed hard, forcing yourself to look away. how could you be just friends with emily prentiss? that just wasn't possible. 

as a close friend of yours said once, you'd give your heart a chance. maybe it would be worth the risk. 

"I hate you," you mumbled while holding back a smile as you opened the door to leave her office. it was time to get back to work, for real this time.  

you could hear the smug smile in her voice. “no you don't. ” 

“no, I don't,” you confessed quietly to yourself. 

and for that, you blamed your stupid heart. 

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taglist: @ravensbug ; @lez-talk1 ; @chiefemilyprentiss ; @snoopyaah 

#criminal minds fanfiction #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss fanfic #lesbian emily prentiss #criminal minds #emily prentiss x female reader #emily prentiss x you

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for getting upset at my ex for being PDA with his boyfriend?

🌱🚌🍰<- To find later

Ages aren't super relevant here but everyone is in their mid-late 20s. About a year ago, my fiance of about 8 and a half years, Jake, broke up with me. It wasn't the smoothest breakup, I didn't take it well at the time, but I've since had a lot of time to think about it and I do understand (and agree with some of) his reasons for it. We're still on friendly terms and recently started casually chatting again 2 months ago after he said he needed a break for a while. I admit I do still love him and we had said at the time that we would want to get back together someday but that it would be a long time before we could consider that again and I wouldn't be upset with him if he changes his mind. There are a number of reasons why things weren't going well, I know I have a lot of body image issues and that had a lot of impact on our sex life, and there was also just a lot of baggage from old issues that built up over the course of the relationship. I've since been in therapy which I know was long overdue and working on a lot of the issues that contributed. Ultimately though, what ended up being the breaking point was issues we were having with polyamory.

I'm going to try and keep things as succinct as possible because the including all the details would make it way too long, but here's basically what happened: Jake and I agreed to be open about sleeping with other people, as long as we kept things out of our shared space. We weren't sure about dating others yet, but we said we'd talk about it if it came up. I know Jake felt jealous about me being with others while I worked on our own intimacy issues, but he told me that he knew that was unhealthy especially if we wanted to eventually be poly. A few months in, I heard from one of our friends, Emily, that a new friend of ours, Daniel, thought Jake was hot and might have a crush on him. I was shocked that Emily would tell me that because she knew Jake and I were together, and I told Jake to discuss what to do about it. He was kind of upset that I told him because he said he would've wanted to hear that from Daniel directly, I argued it was relevant but apologized anyway and dropped it. Over the next few months, Jake and Daniel started texting a lot and Jake started developing feelings for him. When Daniel confessed during a movie night, Jake said he felt the same but that he'd have to talk to me about it first. Jake told me he wanted to go for it, which was surprising because he had said literally the day before that he wasn't sure, but we decided to try poly with some ground rules. Ultimately the issue came down to the "shared space" rule we were already following. I considered making out as sexual, but Jake disagreed and told me that was too controlling if we were allowed to have dates at the apartment. This led to a fight, and when I went to the other room to calm down, I realized that if I couldn't handle seeing Jake with someone else so close to me, I couldn't do poly, so I went back out to tell him. He asked why we couldn't keep talking about it, I said I couldn't change how I felt, and he got upset that I wasn't willing to have a conversation about it now that he had feelings for someone else, so I asked him what he'd want to talk about and he said not to bother because it was obvious I had already made up my mind. The next day he told me we should take a break, and we broke up a week later. I want to make it very clear that I don't blame Daniel for any of this and I don't think anyone was "cheating". As far as I'm aware, Jake and Daniel started dating about 4-5 months after we broke up. I'm not going to lie and say that seeing Jake so happy with someone else doesn't hurt, but I know that's immature of me and I'm working on getting over it.

About a week ago, Jake invited me to go to a bar with a bunch of our old friends. It was a lot of fun and I had really missed hanging with everyone in a group. At some point during the night though, I noticed Daniel being kind of handsy with Jake. I brushed it off because everyone was drunk, but as time went on it became less and less subtle, and I started getting a little uncomfortable. I noticed that one of our more reserved friends, Jason, was also looking a bit flustered. At one point Daniel pulled Jake away from the table to go off somewhere, and everyone just kind of laughed awkwardly before continuing conversation. I know that Jake didn't like PDA before but it's possible that changed, idk.

At the end of the night when people were saying goodbyes and starting to head home, I pulled Jake aside to thank him for inviting me and saying it was a lot of fun and great to see everyone again, but that I noticed people were kind of uncomfortable with Daniel's PDA and suggested that he tone it down a little in the future, especially around Jason. Jake didn't say anything at the time but his smile dropped a little bit and he said he'd talk to Daniel about it.

The next day, I woke up to messages from both Jake and Jason telling me I was out of line and that nobody but me had any issues with their PDA. I even mentioned Jason looking uncomfortable and he said that it was because he had had a crush on Jake for a while now, but that it would be unreasonable for him to ask Jake and Daniel to change their behavior around their friends (which I completely disagree with when it comes to PDA and being inappropriate in public). Jake told me that if I was going to bring our breakup back into the group dynamic it would be better if I didn't come in the future. I asked a few of our other friends and one said that it could be too much sometimes but only when everyone was really drunk, one said that if it did go too far they'd say something, but that it never had, and the last one told me that I was being rude and was clearly just not over Jake.

I don't think I'm an asshole for being uncomfortable with PDA and even if nobody else agrees with me (and at least a couple do), I didn't go about telling them in a rude way at all, but most of the group is saying I was overstepping and to get over myself. AITA here?

#aita #am i the asshole

[freak-accident419]

weren’t we the stars in heaven

Billy (Burn 2019) x GN!Reader

Part 1 | Part 2

Summary: After a couple days after the confrontation, Billy finally feels ready again.

Word Count: 2.4k

Content: 17+, TW: implication of past SA, fluff, angst, vague descriptions of smut, flashbacks, can be read as a stand-alone, Billy gradually regains his sexuality throughout time, affirmations, lovemaking, cuddling, gender-neutral reader

Disclaimer: I tried my absolute best to approach this topic delicately with respect and sensitivity. My intention is not to romanticize or glamorize this topic, or offend or disrespect anybody, but to tell a story.

“Wanna listen to your hands soothe

Listen to your heart beating

Listen to the way you move”

-

You could easily recall the pensive look on his face when he told you that he wanted to try again. It was practically engraved in your memory, actually; desperation, yet with an underlying expression of fear and reluctance. So then, it all began with obligatory reassurance. You ensured that this was what he really wanted, that this was for himself. That he was ready.

Truthfully, Billy had been grotesquely devoured by his own, devastating guilt, feeling stuck in the stomach of his trauma. He felt so broken, every time you kissed him, every time he had to stop your hands when things got too far for him to handle before he would get another flashback. And yet, he wanted it so badly. He wanted to feel good again, he wanted to feel things so badly, like how everyone else could, like how he was able to in the past, so easily. He missed it. The feeling. The feeling of you. Being able to orgasm. To think, before everything, he was free to feel comfortable in his own body, to take off his pants around you so easily. Broken. That’s what he felt he was. That’s what he thought he was. No matter how much you told him he wasn’t, giving you a small nod and a smile to reassure you, he never really believed it.

The two of you made gradual progression. You made sure to take things slow, at Billy’s pace, tending to all his needs. He even recently pleasured you. Either with his hands or mouth, or even toys, but never once his body. He loved pleasing you. Indubitably, it turned him on, but he just… he couldn’t. He felt envy sometimes, towards you. Towards everyone. He so badly wanted everything to go back to normal. To feel normal again.

It’s not like he changed. There was nothing wrong with him. He wasn’t broken to you, he wasn’t abnormal to you. He was perfect. He was your love, the same person you fell for since the beginning. But that could never get through his head. Not after everything.

So tonight, as he kissed you in his arms, his heart raced as he hesitated to communicate what he wanted. He was just sick of it. Sick of everything, sick of having an incident hold him back from the pleasure he so dearly deserved. And so, he told you he wanted it. That he felt ready.

And it was all so very simple at first. Your lips kissed his trembling ones gently, grazing against his at first until he captured your lips back with the same delicate motion. Your hands cupped his face as the kiss slowly deepened, Billy’s hands grasping onto your waist and helping you up on his lap. Really, Billy was terrified. He didn’t want to make so much progress just to break down again and sob in your neck. It’s not like he could control his emotions and his trauma, but he was absolutely sick of it. He wanted this. He felt he needed this.

“I love you,” you could recall to yourself murmuring to him as your lips left his to leave tender kisses across his face, pressing them against his forehead, his cheeks, and the tip of his nose. “So very much.” You hear him let out an angelic giggle, prompting you to throw your arms around his neck, pressing your foreheads against each other and looking deeply in another’s eyes. You swore you could count each other’s eyelashes and every stroke of color in each of your irises. Your eyes marveled at the detail of his very faint freckles, sprawled playfully across his nose.

You whispered sweet mumbles of reassurance in between each kiss and touch, letting him take the lead however, to grant him the liberating feeling of control. It was easy and pleasing to Billy, this part. You had always kissed him so lovingly, and you had always giggled so much for a reason he still didn’t know. There was a fair amount of theories, of course: you felt giddy, or you felt ticklish, or you just thought that the mere action of kissing was silly. Either way, he loved it, your sweet laughter. It ultimately grounded him, especially after the incident. All his worries in this moment would temporarily dissipate from your euphoric voice.

You let out more sweet, reassuring giggles as you kiss his neck, making him feel giddy. You were going to go at his own pace, so you waited for him, being patient for him and letting him know that you could wait as long as he needed. You never knew exactly what happened to Billy, just small fragments of the memory. You would never know how he truly felt or what he went through, so you wanted to be as sensitive as you could with him. Asking him questions relentlessly and making sure he was okay with everything.

He wanted you to strip down first to feel more comfortable about being naked himself, and so you did. Lifting off your shirt, you cupped his face and smiled at him, telling him how amazed you are by him before taking off your pants. You whisper to Billy that he can take as much time as he needed, and he nodded, looking at you with pure infatuation and love.

You told him that you would still love him most ardently, whether he would go through with this or not.

He finally lifted his shirt off, shivering slightly from the cold air conditioning of the new motel room. You leaned in and kissed his lips softly, and you felt his giddy smile against yours. “You are so beautiful,” you whisper, letting out breathy chuckles after as your eye contact remains. “My good looking boy...”

You kissed him softly on the cheek, then his jawline, trailing down to his neck and hearing him chuckle as you knew how ticklish his throat could get against your mouth. You’d covered his neck in breathy, open-mouthed kisses.

You watched him hesitantly reach for his pants, beginning to unbuckle his belt. Billy felt a pang in his heart and his whole body sort of freeze. Suddenly, the warm lights in the room turned into a fluorescent blue and he could feel his own hands on his belt replaced by hers. To you, he looked deeply uncertain, so your hands cupped his face, rubbing his cheeks with the soft pads of your thumbs. His eyes looked into yours in wonder, and you gave him a sad, yet reassuring smile.

“It’s okay,” you nearly whisper, continuing to stroke his face with your thumbs. “I’m here. It’s just me. It’s just you and me, Billy.”

He nodded with a temporary smile. And you felt your thumbs become slightly wet from the single tears that left each of his eyes. Billy had always been so vulnerable with you. You were the only person he could feel his feelings around. He felt solace in your touch, and he especially felt very small under you. It was you. He’s loved you for years.

“Hey… Look at me. Look at me, baby,” his face was held by your hands as you encouraged him. Billy didn’t feel comfortable to even look down at himself as he would undress. He’d feel too ashamed or afraid. It was clear he wasn’t fully ready for everything yet. You weren’t even sure if he’d let you touch him yourself. But it didn’t matter at all. In this moment, you’d take things as slow as he wants and only do what he feels comfortable with. You were going to work with him through this, every step of the way. “I’m here,” you say. The lights in the room were no longer a bright, buzzing neon blue as your soothing voice pulled him out of his trance.

It definitely took a while for him to finally get his pants off. Unbuttoning his jeans and unzipping them had ended up being a very slow process. His boxers, even longer. But you waited for him, undoubtedly. He requested that the lower half of his body was to be covered by the sheets, however, and you complied lovingly.

You were laying on your sides, the two of you facing each other, giving him the exact control that he needed, the thick sheets covering your lower halves. The lights in the room were a warm, nourishing orange, not too white or blue at all—contrary to the irritatingly fluorescent atmosphere of a convenience store, yet not a completely pitch-dark black either.

“Are you sure you want this?” You whisper silently against his face. The atmosphere was silent. Just the two of you breathing softly, apart from the occasional words. “Because you can back out any time if you feel the need to, just say the word, and we can stop. I love you.”

Billy nods, interrupting each of your thoughts with a deep kiss. “I—I do, I want to do this…” he answered confidently, despite his stutters. “I love you more.”

Your hands were on his face as your lips connected, and you let out a small gasp against his mouth when you finally felt him inside of you. It was that warm, fuzzy feeling that was so familiar to you, something you never thought you’d feel again so soon. And you just remembered how much you missed it.

Billy let out a deep, breathy inhale as he entered you, gazing into your eyes to remind himself that he was just with you. That he was safe. And you felt so good around him, so warm, and just… god, so safe.

His hand went towards the back of your neck, and he could feel your racing pulse against his thumb. Even if it was technically yours, it wistfully reminded him that he was alive and breathing.

You felt his coarse, yet gentle hand move down to your thigh, slightly grasping it to move it on top of his for a better angle. The calloused pads of his fingertips tickled your skin as his hand finally moved your leg, wrapping it around his hips to bring you closer. It reminded him so much of your times together before, the simplicity and easiness of chasing pleasure without fear or pain. He was with you, how he’d always been before.

You giggled joyously, kissing his lips so lovingly, and you could feel the blissful grin on them against yours. His hips moved slowly as he thrusted inside of you gently, and it was a satisfying feeling, pleasured sighs leaving your mouth. Before, Billy had been pleasuring you in other ways for the time being, but nothing could beat the feeling of him being completely inside you, filling you up entirely. You missed it indefinitely.

As your lips parted, you saw him smiling, sniffling slightly, accompanied by glassy eyes. You brought your thumbs to the corners of his eyes and wiped away any tears.

Billy nearly laughed them off. “I’m—I’m just,” he sighs, chuckling. “I just missed you. The feeling of you. And just… feeling good like this again.”

You kiss him once again and nuzzle his neck, burying your face in the crook of his shoulder. “You’re doing so amazing, baby…” Your breath quickens as the feelings begin to become more intense. “So good… So proud of you, my love…”

Your arm wrapped around his back, holding him into your embrace as he continued with his slow, easy thrusts. Your hand rubbed his back soothingly, and the two of you gasped with every rush of pleasure. You tightly shut your eyes and began to moan louder as Billy’s pace slowly increased. His grip on your thigh tightened as he grasped it firmly yet lovingly, making it easy for him to move you against him. Soon, your hand found his, and your fingers interlocked very sensually, holding each other’s hands as he made love to you.

Billy wanted to straight up sob. He wanted to start screaming and crying, to let all of his feelings out. It felt so good, you felt so good. He missed this feeling so much and he never thought he would feel it ever again. You were so gentle with him, so sweet with him, your burning love for him nearly melting his heart and entire being.

The night proceeded promptly. Soft, yet loud cries of pleasure escaped both of your lips as you came together, Billy ensuring that he released deep inside of you. He felt incredibly ecstatic, so enraptured by the feeling of his orgasm and yours. He did it. He finally came. From what had been a lost, impeccable enigma that was taken from him, violently pulled right out of his trembling hands, had become something he could reach once again. He was amazed. He did it.

Billy stayed inside of you for a while as the atmosphere became silent, consisting only of your heavy breaths until he would finally pull out of you, leaving you to feel empty once again. He felt very safe inside of you, which was why he was so reluctant to pull out. The warmth and embrace of your body ultimately comforted him.

You kissed Billy deeply, spilling all your love and pride in it, making sure he knew how happy you were for him. “You did so well, my love,” you whisper, cupping his face. “I’m so proud of you.”

He held you closer to his body, embracing you warmly as you bury your face in his neck. “Thank you, baby,” he whispers tiredly. The lovemaking took most of his energy, especially as it had taken longer for him to actually cum, so he immediately felt a warm wave of sleepiness. But the next few hours would probably be the best sleep he’s ever had in a long time.

“Anything for you, my love,” you reply in a low murmur, pressing a short kiss to his neck. “You deserve to feel good. You deserve so much. I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” he softly mumbles in your hair.

It wasn’t going to be any easier from now on just because of this recent progression. Sure, he made a big step in getting his sexuality back and healing from the incident, but it wasn’t like he immediately recovered from everything. He’d still have to take things at his own, slow pace and there was no guarantee that he would even make more progress after tonight. Ultimately, however, it didn’t matter. You were always going to wait for him. You were always going to be patient with him. Because you truly loved him. More than anything in the world.

-

National Sexual Assault Hotline: [phone]

Resources

#billy burn #billy from burn #billy burn x reader #billy burn x you #billy burn x gn!reader #burn 2019 #burn movie #burn movie 2019 #josh hutcherson #billy burn smut #mike schmidt x reader #derek danforth x reader #mike schmidt #derek danforth #josh futturman #josh futturman x reader #future man

[ghostybaby000]

After Hours | Part 3

part 1 part 2

Pairing: Simon Ghost Riley x reader

Summary: I recommend going to part one (above) to truly get a feel for this juicy read!

Word count: 1.3k

Warnings: 18+, guns, yelling, light flirting, future smut

(Not fully edited, apologies for any inconsistencies!)

Cautiously you take the pistol from his large gloved hands and hold it out in your palm. You walked over to the station he had been occupying and set it down, as if it would explode had you not been so gentle. He let out a small chuckle as he placed a box of ammunition to the side and took the gun in his own hands. 

He showed you how the safety on the gun worked as well as the magazine release, and how to take it apart to reload it or clean it. He took his time while explaining, being sure to stop and do something over if you looked confused or didn’t catch what he did. He also went over all of the basics when it came to handling a gun safely and why it’s important to use certain features and how to hold it when you aren’t shooting. 

‘Now, you do it.’ He had set the reassembled gun back on the table and stepped back to watch you. You had tried to notice every detail of what he had done, and slowly picked up the gun. You took your time to palm over the metal, looking at all of the small pieces and buttons to press. You took your time as you disassembled the gun, then pieced it all back together, looking back to the man to ensure you were doing it correct every few steps. You then reloaded the gun and placed it back on the station table. 

‘Well done.’ He looks down to you and taking a pause as he catches your glance, then continues. 

‘The next thing to go over is your positioning when firing the gun, and how you should hold the gun.’ You were beaming from the inside, you had done it correctly and it made you feel great. Your manager lashing out at you had completely left your mind you were now filling with pride as you continued to learn from…

‘Hey, I never got your name, what is it?’ You looked back to him as he was stepping away to show you stances. He paused and looked back over his shoulder to you, turning his body eventually to face you.

‘Simon, but most call me Ghost.’ He then waved you over, pushing out any time to ask about the name Ghost, but you didn’t mind and assumed it had come from the military as you’d heard plenty of people being called names other than their own growing up. 

For the next ten or fifteen minutes you went over the proper stances of holding the gun when firing and how to alter your grip to better hold the gun. You often took note of how easy it had looked for him, like it was built into him like talking or thinking. After a little while he handed the gun to you and asked you to show him the proper stances, some of which he gave you pointers. 

‘Angle your foot like this.’ as he showed you on his own foot. ‘Try to engage your shoulders more, and move your hips like I did’ The small tips made you nervous at first feeling that you were doing it wrong, but you blocked them out and convinced yourself it would take time to learn and practice the proper stances. You both took a break to have water and returned to the room where the gun was lying on the station table. 

‘Alright, go ahead and show me what you know. As if you were going to fire the gun.’ You looked up to him, before taking a breath and moving up to the station. You took your time as you showed that you knew the anatomy of the gun quite well now and could reload it, then taking off the safety. 

Ghost had only watched and not said anything as you began to take stance. You gripped the gun as best you could remember him showing you, and spread your feet slightly. You remembered his tip on your foot placement and your shoulders and adjusted them accordingly. He gave a small nod as you stood still and pushed himself off the wall he was leant up on, as if you were about to fire at the paper person that was incredibly far away. 

You felt his gloved hand go over yours, and you sucked in a breath, his voice almost whispering to you. 

‘Remember, you have to put his hand here and then leave your finger entirely off the trigger until you are ready to fire.’ You slowly relaxed your hand muscles, allowing him hand to slightly adjust yours and placed your finger flat against the gun, knowing you weren’t going to fire. He was standing directly behind you as you didn’t dare to change your positioning, chills had gone down your spine and back but you didn’t bother with them now. 

‘I-is this better?’ Speaking without moving he slowly backed off of you to look over your stance. Again, you felt his gloved hand but now it was on your hip, gently pushing inwards. You adjusted like playdough as he moved you into the correct form not making any comment as he did so, although your breathing couldn’t help but pick up. He took a second to leave you in the stance, and then spoke.

‘There you are. Now, try and totally relax your body and step away from the station. Then I want you to try and do it again on your own.’ Still feeling nervous you let your muscles relax, almost setting them into place where they were. You put the safety on the gun and placed it down stepping back from the bench, taking a deep breath. The nervousness began to fade as you wanted to do it properly you began to feel confident. With another breath and your eyes laser focused on the gun you step up with a little more speed and begin to disassemble and reassemble the gun. After it had been put back together you grabbed it and attempted to move into a firing position. 

You went through a checklist in your head of all of the things he had tried to correct you on previously, altering how you stood in small ways. Your foot positioning, your foot width, your shoulders, your hips, your hands, and your arms. Finally you let out another breath and let your muscles relax as you waited for his input. 

‘There you go, you’ve done it.’ A smile crept over your face breaking the serious focus you’d had before, and placed the gun back onto the table after ensuring the safety was on. You turned around slowly to face him who was leaning again on the wall as you spoke.

‘Well I definitely don’t have it perfect yet, and I still have to shoot it as well.’ You take a glance to the clock on the wall and realize it had been far longer than you expected and that you had to work again tomorrow. You didn’t want to leave yet but knew that it was wrong to keep this place open this long anyways and decided you should get home, you had learned plenty for one day. 

‘I know it may be asking a lot, but do you think you could help me with that as well some time?’ He looked up to you from the other area of the room where he had been looking before,

‘Sure. Same place and time next week.’ He set the remote down and took one last look at you before collecting his pistole and giving a head nod goodbye. Before he had made his way out of the building you pushed out a ‘thank you!’ as you watched he slowed his pace slightly, acknowledging what you said. He made his way out of the building as the doors chimed, you couldn’t help but feel like an excited child knowing that you would get to see him again. 

#ghost x reader #books #call of duty fanart #cod fanfic #cod ghost #ghost cod #ghost mw2 #ghost x y/n #simon ghost riley #ghost x you #simon riley x y/n #simon Riley x you #simon Riley x reader #ghost simon riley #ghost call of duty #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost x you

[fandom-relapse]

Baby box

Prompt: Moments by Mary Oliver

Fandom: 911

Character / Pairing: Buck/Eddie

Time to write: 46 minutes

Rating: T

Eddie has spent years carefully tucking away his love for Buck. If it were just him, maybe he would have found the courage to say something about it. But nothing worth doing is without risk, and he can't take that risk for Chris.

But there are moments that cry out to be fulfilled; they can only be postponed for so long.

Eddie finally caves when the Buckley parents swing through town like a tornado, leaving everything untouched except a path of destruction directly through Buck.

He knows that some parents have a favorite child, but making it so obvious, displaying it so brutally? They're sat on his couch, Chris at school, and he flinches as Buck tells him about Maddie's baby box, and how he had asked about his own--"like an idiot," Buck says, eyes watery--and how there wasn't one. How he was made for spare parts. How he truly wasn't wanted. He wants to bundle Buck into his lap and hold him. He wants to tell Buck how much he loves him, how much he is wanted.

"I--," and he chokes around the words I want you, berating himself for his inability when Buck turns to him with the saddest puppy-dog eyes he's ever seen. "Wait here," he amends.

Later, he'll wonder what part of it was conscious, this perilous decision to show this to Buck, his grave accumulation of idiocies. He has berated himself over this for so long--creepy, weird, unnecessary, he has admonished himself in his darkest moments.

Nevertheless, he returns carrying a small cardboard box and hands it to Buck, who stares at it for a moment.

"W-what is this?" Buck asks, wobbly, adorably.

Eddie breathes. "Just look," because he can't say, "my heart."

So Buck looks, and Eddie stops breathing as he watches Buck sort through their life, Buck's-life-in-his: tickets to Us, the first movie they saw together alone; photobooth pictures from the pier, which Chris had insisted upon; the post-its they'd left in each others' lockers after they had lost their phones in a rescue (come over for dinner? -e; as long as you're not cooking -b); a program from each of Chris's school plays that Buck had insisted on attending with him (a lot). And more, so much more.

It was all there, Eddie's pathetic assemblage of life-tokens, because he wouldn't be okay if something happened to Buck and there wasn't anything left of him, because this stupid box was all that had gotten him through Buck's close calls. Because maybe their best-friendship could be enough for Eddie, but God did he want more.

He is pulled from his reverie by Buck's arms around him, and Buck's warm breath in his ear, as he whispers, "thank you." And Eddie breathes again.

Well, he's come this far, hasn't he?

His heart is still beating, isn't it?

He's not in chains, is he?

So he says, "I love you. You are wanted. Here." He offers a silent prayer that this doesn't break BuckandEddie into Buck and Eddie, because he's not sure his heart could handle that.

"I love you, too," Buck murmurs.

#911 abc #buddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buck x eddie #ficlet

[oftenwantedafton]

the long way home | steve raglan x female reader

inspired by @arkarti ’s ongoing fanart series

rating | explicit

words | 4.7k

cw | sexual content

ao3 link

It’s the worst sort of luck, breaking down in the middle of nowhere.

The only saving grace is that it happens in the early morning, just after sunrise. You walk that dusty interstate road for what feels like hours. You have cowboy boots on that are meant to be flashy, not really proper footwear. Your heels are killing you and the sand that decorates the barren landscape feels like it has seeped into every pore and crevice. You can taste it, feel its grit in your hair and on your skin. The sun beats down and you’re grateful that you at least have sunglasses to shield your eyes. You’ve got your hair pinned up but it doesn’t really help with the heat much. You’re drenched in sweat that makes your tshirt cling to an even wetter bra and your skirt drags against damp thighs with every step. Sheer misery and yet you plod on, because you can’t—won’t—go back where you came from. There is just the promise of something more, moving forward.

You think you hear an engine and turn your head. The road has that shimmery haze to it, making it difficult to discern if there is anything moving over that lift of pavement you’d navigated awhile back. It’s getting larger, closer, so you decide it’s not a mirage after all. The vehicle is the same color as the ground you’ve grown to detest trodding over, a bland beige shade with a slightly darker interior. You grind to a halt and the sedan slows and pulls onto the shoulder, the tires dipping off the asphalt and onto the dirt.

You’ve been taught never to pick up hitchhikers, but not what to do when faced with the prospect of being one. Your steps are cautious as you approach the parked car. You haven’t gotten a good look at the driver yet, not that that was any clear indication of their intentions. Looks could be deceiving. Anyone could be dangerous.

The man—you can see it’s a male now, behind the wheel—leans over and cranks the handle of the window around, the glass descending and disappearing from view. He’s got a long sleeve shirt on which seems a poor choice given the climate, but you can feel the cool waft of air that emanates from within. The car has air conditioning. You find yourself taking an involuntary step closer towards that promised land. To be away from the sun. To feel a cool breeze. You’re not sure you can resist that kind of temptation.

“Need a ride?” It seems a foolish question. Of course you did. You’re hardly out for a leisurely stroll. “That was your car back there, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah, she quit on me.”

“That’s a shame.”

The man’s voice is pleasant. You like the sound of it. There’s a rasp to it, combined with something else that’s difficult to describe. You notice he’s wearing a tie to go with the shirt. A traveling salesman, maybe? He’s got that demeanor. Smooth talker. Neatly trimmed facial hair, the same blend of salt and pepper as the rest. Glasses. Friendly smile that makes the lines around his eyes crinkle, becoming more pronounced. Dimples, too. You know you’re staring and you know it’s rude. You shuffle your feet, kicking up a little cloud of dust.

“I’m happy to give you a lift somewhere. I promise I’m not a serial killer.” He chuckles softly and you join him, relaxing slightly. The driver seems innocent enough. Maybe you’re just being paranoid.

Still you hesitate. You glance back the way you came. You look ahead. It all looks the same. So far to travel on foot. It was almost midday. The temperature was rising. It isn’t just about discomfort; it’s dangerous to your health, being out here like this.

“I’ve got water. Ice has melted by now, but…”

It’s the final shove you need. You lift the chrome handle and settle inside, cranking the window back up. The shift in the temperature is incredible. The shade. You murmur your gratitude. A thermos is pressed into your hands.

“Make sure you put your seatbelt on. Wouldn’t want anything to happen to you.” You finish gulping down the drink he’s gifted to you. Best damn thing you’ve ever tasted. You hastily jerk on the nylon strap, securing it over your shoulder and across your waist, the buckle settling into place with a satisfying click. You offer to return the drink, secretly glad when he insists you finish it.

You drain that container so fast your stomach aches. The ice hadn’t melted that much, actually. You keep the leftovers in your mouth, allowing them to dissolve. You squirm a bit, your feet still uncomfortable.

“Take those off, if you want.”

“Thanks. I’m sorry if my feet stink. I wasn’t planning on walking so much in them.” You bend and tug each one off, sighing in relief. Your bare feet curl against the shallowly carpeted floor mat. Sheer bliss, except those tender spots you’re pretty sure might be forming blisters. You’re not going to prod them just yet to verify.

“Thanks again for giving me a lift.” You introduce yourself.

“No problem. I was heading in this direction anyway. No reason not to. Put the radio on if you want. Or take a nap.”

You’re not sure sleeping is the best idea right now, as weary as you are. The man is still a stranger. So you opt for the first choice, fiddling with the dials until you find a station with a decent signal. Not really your type of music, but at least it’s background noise. You let your head tip back into the cradle of the head rest. Your eyes shut. You’re only going to rest them for a moment.

You fall asleep.

***

You jerk awake, suddenly aware the vehicle has stopped.

There’s a definite trail of drool leaking from the corner of your mouth. You swipe at it hastily, straightening in your seat, your eyes darting around frantically. You’re suddenly thinking of the drink you’d been offered. Drugged? How stupid and careless can you be?

No. You’re mistaken, surely. Just tired. You can see you’re at a gas station. He’d stopped at a gas station. Nothing wrong with that.

You struggle to shove your feet—yes, those are blisters, a matching set for each foot—back into your boots, depressing the button to release the seat belt’s buckle, the restraint making a little whining sound as it retracts back into its plastic casing mounted on the side of the car. You push the passenger door open and it creaks in protest. You’re not about to pass up a chance to use the restroom, as vile as it probably is, and grab yourself a drink and a snack.

The man giving you a lift emerges from the store, and you realize then just how tall he is, mostly legs that go on forever. He’s got a rolling sort of walk that draws your attention to his hips. Your cheeks flush and you force yourself to look at somewhere safer, fixing back on his face. There’s a piece of cherry licorice between his teeth, shiny red twined ropes tucked through a barrier of even white, the pocket of his shirt bulging with what looks like a pack of cigarettes, a bottle of soda in hand. “Hey. I was going to wake you, just wanted to give you a chance to rest a bit more. You were really worn out.”

“Yeah, I guess I was.”

“Want something from inside? My treat.”

“No, I…I got it. You don’t mind waiting?”

“Not at all.”

“Th…thanks. I won’t be long.” You duck inside the shop to get a key for the restroom. It’s attached to a comically large piece of scrap wood. You unlock the restroom door and push it open with trepidation. Okay, not terrible. Seems relatively clean. Certainly not the grossest you’ve seen. No paper towels in the dispenser, but at least there was toilet paper. Even soap in the pump on the wall. Definitely could have been worse.

You return the key and peruse the aisles quickly, aware the man is still waiting for you. You decide water is still the best for hydration, opting for a package of mini powdered donuts for a snack. Not the healthiest option, but hey, you think you’ve earned it considering the day you’ve had.

Back inside the sedan, you slide the seatbelt back into place. You shove your feet free of the boots again and crack the plastic wrapper off the water bottle. It’s one of those ones with the nozzles you pull up and down to open and close it. You take a long pull and get started on the donuts. Your companion has made short work of the candy, chewing and staring at nothing in particular. He reaches for the pack—cigarettes, just as you’d suspected—in his shirt pocket and pulls the bit of red plastic tab that marks where to unravel the wrapper. He glances over at you as if to ask if you mind and you shrug. It’s not really your place to tell the owner of the vehicle you’re in if he can or can’t indulge.

He leans and pushes in the cigarette lighter on the dashboard, slotting one of the paper rolls between his lips while he’s waiting. For a time you sit in companionable silence, you nibbling on your donuts, your fingers and lips already dusted in powdered sugar, while the older man lights the end of his cigarette and takes a deep inhale, sighing the smoke out of the open window. You’re surprised he’s a smoker, honestly; his teeth look too pearly white for that. Maybe it was something he only did rarely, when the mood struck him. Traveling with a young female hitchhiker, perhaps.

You demolish the contents of the package in your lap embarrassingly quickly. You’d been starving. You lick the white coating off your fingers and lips and feel the man’s eyes on you as you crumple the plastic packaging in a tight ball. He points to the center console, where the lone vacant cup holder holds spare change and a faded looking receipt, the other occupied by his soda. You deposit your trash there and take another sip from your bottle, staring out the window. The engine rumbles to life. You hear the window crank being rotated and you copy the man, closing your own. The cool air soon returns, drafting welcomingly over your skin. The car is moving again. You’re on your way once more.

***

When the sun starts to go down, things feel different.

Maybe it’s because the radio signal has finally gone out of range. You tire of working your way through bursts of static and finally shut it off.

You wonder if the driver is getting tired at all.

He doesn’t seem it, his eyes focused on the road his headlights reveal, his posture still straight and upright. You don’t know how he maintains it. You can’t stop squirming, trying to get comfortable. Your ass hurts and your legs are cramped and you just want a shower and any even remotely flat surface that can serve as a bed.

“You never mentioned where you wanted to go.”

His voice startles you. It’s been so long since either of you has spoken. You’d forgotten how his sounded. That pleasant gravel drag.

“Hurricane. But I know that’s still a ways ahead. I don’t expect you to take me all the way there.”

“What’s in Hurricane?”

“Not what. Who. My sister.”

He grunts. “I’m going to Hurricane as well.”

“Really? Why?”

“That’s where I live. Where my business is.”

“What business is that?”

“Restaurant.”

“Really? Which one?”

“What do you think about stopping here for the night?” He gestures and you look through the windshield, seeing the lights of a motel glowing like a beacon against the growing darkness.

“Uh, yeah. I guess so.”

The turn signal taps in a rhythm that sounds a little too rapid, matching your elevated heart rate. You’re feeling nervous again. Mistrustful, although if the man had wanted to take advantage of you, he certainly could have done so before now.

He pulls into one of the empty spots in front of the office that shares a similar bit of crimson neon to match the motel’s vacancy sign. You speak before he exits the car, feeling pressured to say something before this continues any further.

“I’m grateful for the ride, and I know you’ve been nothing but kind this far, and I appreciate it. I might…I might just see if my sister can come pick me up tomorrow. I hope you’re not offended.”

He pauses, his fingers still curled around the door handle. “If that’s what you want.” You nod. “Alright, then. I guess this is where we part ways. Good luck to you, miss.”

“Thanks. You, too.” You’re suddenly feeling guilty. He really was just a nice guy trying to help a stranded woman out. He didn’t deserve this kind of treatment. “Maybe I’ll visit your restaurant, leave a generous tip for—” The door shuts and you cease talking. Well. That was one way to end a conversation.

You pull the boots back on and exit the car for what you think will be the final time. Your traveling companion is already inside, speaking to the man behind the counter. You can see the rows of keys with red tags hooked on the wall behind him. The man turns and pulls two down while the driver scribbles into a book on the counter. There’s a faint jingling of bells to announce your arrival, and the man passes you without a word.

“I need a room please. Single.” Your eyes glance down at the log book. You can’t read the signature of your benefactor. He still hasn’t told you his name.

“You’re all set, miss. Paid up by your friend there.” He waggles his eyebrows and nods towards the door.

“Oh, he’s not…”

“No?” The smile on the man’s features is far too suggestive. You grab the key off the counter, turning to leave.

“Sign the book, please. Then you can go to your room. Or your friend’s. Both paid for, so it’s all the same to me.” Another smug smile. You hurriedly scrawl your signature and exit the office, feeling your cheeks burn.

Your heels are loud on the decking that lines the front of the motel rooms. You glance down at the number printed on the tag, a chipped white six greeting your vision.

Your steps slow when you reach the correct door. The sedan is parked in front of the door beside yours. Of course the motel manager has given you rooms next to each other. Of course he has.

The man is apparently already inside the room, the car empty. You insert the key in the lock and shut the door, sliding the chain across. You close the blinds and turn to survey your surroundings. About what you’d expected. Dated furniture that felt straight out of the seventies. A carpet that badly needed to be replaced. You hoped there weren’t bed bugs. Gross.

You stride over to the bathroom. Chipped sink. Chipped toilet. Chipped tub too, but you don’t really care. You crank the faucet and let the water pour out, hastily reaching to plug the drain. You’re finally back out of that accursed footwear. Your clothes pile on the floor. Maybe not the best idea, but you’re too desperate to get into the tub just then.

It’s heaven. Sheer bliss, submerging yourself in that basin. You spend a long time soaking, letting your body temperature decrease. Scrubbing away the dirt that has clung so stubbornly to your skin. Rinsing your hair twice. You linger until your fingers prune and then you unplug the drain and turn on the shower, rinsing off a final time. You don’t have anything clean to sleep in, but you’ll survive. You’d wash your clothes in the sink, but it will take time to dry them. So back on the shirt and panties go. You leave your bra and skirt draped over the shower curtain rod. Fuck those boots.

You put the television on low volume and flip back the flower patterned coverlet. Well, it seemed insect free, anyway. You sink onto the mattress and pile the pillows together behind your head. You don’t hear any noise from next door. The room on the other side looked unoccupied, and the driver’s…well, maybe he’d just gone to bed.

He’d paid for your room. You had to thank him, at least. Damn it.

You slide back out of bed, returning to the bathroom to slip on your bra and skirt, cringing when you view those hated boots again. Fuck it. You’ll risk going barefoot. Knowing your luck you’ll step on a rusty nail and get tentanus, but fuck it.

You open your door, startled when you see the man standing outside. He’s leaning against one of the deck posts, smoking again. The end of the cigarette glows in the darkness.

“Thank you for paying for my room. You didn’t have to do that, you know.”

“I’m aware.” He barely spares you a glance, blowing a stream of smoke and flicking the ashes from the end of the cylinder pinched between his fingers.

“You should let me pay you back. There’s a liquor store just down the road.”

“I noticed that.”

“I’ll treat you. Pick your poison.”

His eyes focus on you again, his gaze lingering on your bare feet. “I don’t think they’ll let you inside like that.”

“I’ll put the boots back on,” you grumble.

The man hums thoughtfully. “Tell you what. I’ll go get something and bring it back here to share.”

“But then that’s you doing me a favor again.”

“Yes.”

“So then I’ll owe you even more.”

“I’m not keeping track. That’s you doing that.”

You chew your bottom lip. “Why did you pay for my room?”

He shrugs, taking another drag. “Seemed like the right thing to do.”

You don’t have a response for that. Everything the man did just made you feel more and more ashamed for doubting his intentions.

“What do you want to drink?”

“I…beer is fine.”

“Then beer it is.” The remains of the cigarette land on the pavement and the man steps off the deck, grinding it beneath his heel. “I’ll be right back.”

You nod, settling into the one of the cheap plastic chairs beside a small circular table that served as a patio set. You can hear the faint hum of insects, or maybe it’s the neon signs. It’s still hot. The pleasant effects of your bath are already fading.

True to his word, the man returns with a case, setting it on the table and sitting across from you. He’s loosened his tie so that it drapes in a lazy knot around his neck. It doesn’t look like he’s sampled the motel’s plumbing just yet. He rips a hole through the carboard box and hands you one of the bottles before taking his own. Chilled, and already sweating. You wrap the hem of your shirt over the cap and twist it off. You take a sip and hear the satisfied sigh of your companion as he does the same.

“You didn’t tell me your name,” you say, fiddling with the metal cap with the crimped edges, spinning it on the table’s surface. There isn’t much room with the beer case there.

“It’s Steve.”

“Steve,” you repeat. “Steve what?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“In case I decide to look you up. You know, to pay you back.”

He waves a hand in the air dismissively. “You didn’t see what I wrote in the logbook?”

“Your handwriting is atrocious.”

Steve clutches his chest, sucking in his breath dramatically. “I’m deeply offended.”

“You’re not. Why won’t you tell me? Is it a big secret?”

“Maybe. Maybe I’m a celebrity, just trying to live like the common folk.” He takes a pull from the bottle.

“Yeah, sure. Just like the rest of us losers.” You pause. “You’re handsome enough to be an actor. Got the voice for it. I can kind of see it, actually.” The compliment slips from your lips before you can think better of it.

“Flattery, now? I don’t think my heart can take this much stress.”

“You’ll survive.”

“Probably.” He finishes the bottle and reaches for another.

“So out with it, Mister Movie Star. What is it?”

“Raglan.”

“See? Was that so difficult? Nice to meet you, Steven Raglan.”

“Not Steven. Just Steve.”

“Okay. Just Steve.” You finish your bottle and colllect another. “How come you’re so chatty all of a sudden? You didn’t say five words to me all day. Are you that much of a lightweight?” You gesture with the beer bottle.

“Hardly. I was concentrating on the road.”

“You could’ve talked more.”

“I apologize for not making your ride more entertaining.” He stands, resuming his position leaning against the post again. You rise as well, noting you are the actual lightweight, already feeling a bit lightheaded. Blame the empty stomach. You pad over to stand beside him. “I thought you wanted privacy. It’s not my place to ask for details about your life.”

You consider that. “You think I’m being nosy.”

“No. Not really.” He swallows another mouthful of beer. “You don’t trust me.”

“I…I’m being cautious. A woman stranded in the middle of nowhere should be, don’t you agree?”

“Of course.”

“If it was your wife, or daughter…”

He smirks. “Clever way to source the information you want. I’m no longer married. Children are grown. It’s just me. The handsome movie star, all alone.”

“Okay, okay.” You nudge his arm playfully.

“What about you?”

“Single as a Pringle,” you quip.

“That’s a new development, isn’t it? What you’re leaving behind.”

“Am I that transparent?”

“I’m good at reading people.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

You pull the now empty bottle from his hands and place it along with yours down on the table, selecting two more. You hand one to him and take a long sip from yours. They’re going down so smooth. You don’t even really like beer all that much. It’s making you feel warm and you hate that, but you like the buzz and you like the company, too.

“Okay, since you’re so insightful, tell me what I’m thinking right now?” You fold your arms across your chest, smirking after issuing the challenge. You’d meant it to be playful, but the look he gives you as he turns to face you holds no humor. Those blue eyes capture yours and trap them.

“You’re hoping your sister is more welcoming than you remember, because when you left, you weren’t on the best of terms. You’re hoping you can find a job soon and get back on your own two feet again. Relying on your ex so much was a mistake. You hate asking for help, even if you need it desperately. You—”

“—Stop.” You cut him off. “Don’t…don’t say that. You don’t know that. You don’t know me.”

“Alright.” Another shrug. He swallows more beer.

“How do you know so much?” Your voice is soft.

“I told you. I have a way with people.”

“You should be a fortune teller. Or one of those televangelists. Spouting prophecies that are actually real.”

“I despise religion. And I don’t predict the future. I just…understand people. Their motives. Even the ones they’re too ashamed to admit to.”

You’re not sure how to respond. The conversation is shifting, no longer light and comfortable and teasing.

“That’s why I don’t talk much. People don’t like hearing the truth,” he concludes, polishing off the rest of the alcoholic beverage he’s clutching. “I’m going to say goodnight now. It’s been a long day. Again, good luck.”

“Wait.” Your hand clutches his sleeve. “Let me…let me try it. What you just did.”

“You think you know all my secrets? Okay, I’ll indulge you. Go ahead.”

You lick your lips. “You’re coming back from somewhere you didn’t want to go, but you’re not exactly eager to get home, either. You’re tired of your business. You’re probably good at it, but it’s boring. Monotonous. You’ve always played by the rules. You long to break them, just once. See how the other half lives.”

His mouth curves slightly. “A nice attempt. But way off. Goodnight.”

He’s back at his door, hand reaching for the brass knob.

“You’re name isn’t really Steve Raglan.”

His fingers freeze. You see his shoulder blades stiffen beneath the dress shirt. He turns back to face you. Smiling again, but this one is darker, less friendly. “Good. That’s good. Clever girl.”

“What else have you lied about?”

“You’ll figure it out.”

You take a step closer to him. “Tell me now.”

“Why don’t you just ask for what you really want instead of playing this tedious game?”

Your mouth gapes, then snaps shut. “I don’t know what you’re…”

“This,” he breathes, dragging you to him, his lips touching yours.

Any protest you might have murmured dies. You melt against him, sink hands into hair that feels as dusty as yours had earlier, clutch handfuls of the rumpled fabric of his shirt that had undoubtedly started out the day crisply pressed and neatly tucked. He tastes like the beer he’s just consumed and the cigarette from earlier and you savor it all, letting him lick your mouth open for discovery. You’re shoved against the door and it strikes you again how tall he is, how much he towers over you. Those large hands already display more finesse than anything you’ve previously known, stroking over every curve, mapping each sensation. You hear the doorknob rattle as he fumbles it open, keeping you secured, not letting you tumble back into the sudden void at your back. His room is dark and he shoves you down onto the bed that’s still made. You wonder what he’d done while you’d been lingering in your own bathtub for all that time.

He’s at your neck and you’re at his pants and somehow you manage the belt and the fly while your skirt is lifted, panties tugged down. You’re not thinking about anything other than the need screaming between your legs, hot and damp and urgent, whimpering when you feel his cock pressing against your entrance. You’re not even sure if he’s shut the motel door in his haste to be at you.

He slides out of you almost as soon as he’s begun—you’re so wet and slippery—and he grabs your hips and shoves you back, leaning his body weight against you, and this time he fills you to the hilt. You wrap your legs around him and roll your hips to match his momentum, your mouth brushing facial hair before reconnecting with his lips. You’re fucking a stranger that lied about his name and you don’t care; it makes it better somehow, not really knowing. You don’t want to get caught up in details, in feelings again this soon. This man can be anything and everything and if it only lasts for tonight that’s fine, too.

His mouth tucks beside your ear and he whispers to you in that wonderful rusted voice of his, the hand slithering between your bodies stroking you just right, lighting those nerves up. He’s urging you to let go and you do, your body taut and then ragdoll limp as he pumps you full of his own release. You’re sticky, sweaty, pressed against him but you remain there, tucked now beside him, panting and spent and feeling better than you have in a long time.

You’ve nearly drifted off to sleep when you hear his voice again, or perhaps this is merely a dream, asking if you need a ride for the remainder of your journey.

You offer an affirmative answer, then inquire the last of your drowsy thoughts, asking if he might take the long way home.

You don’t hear an answer, already asleep. But that’s alright.

You can ask again in the morning.

#william afton x reader #william afton x you #steve raglan x reader #steve raglan x you #divider @cafekitsune

[lullabyes22-blog]

Snippet - Puppy Love - Forward but Never Forget/XOXO

Sevika narrates a sad story...

tw: violence, gore, gang warfare

Forward but Never Forget/XOXO

Snippet:

"You have your city. Powder has no place in it. Let her have a normal life. In Piltover, with me."

Sevika stares a moment before a laugh spangles out. It's like rich, smoky music. In it, Vi hears echoes of a girlhood lost. She hears other things too. Disbelief, disdain. And the shock of epiphany, as if Sevika finally understands that Vi and Powder aren't simply sisters, but strangers to each other. Different species.

To Vi, Zaun is a black maw. To Powder, it is a cradle.

"A normal life?" Sevika repeats, when she can breathe without gulping. "With you? Do you even know what that means? Jinx would be a fucking fugitive. They'd throw her in the clink."

"I'd keep her safe! Get her across the sea." Vi's eyes glaze wetly. "We'd run away. Together."

"Yeah? Where would you go?"

"Wherever. It doesn't matter. Someplace warm. An island in Tereshni. With sun and sand. Or a fishing lodge in Bilgewater. Anything, as long as it's not here. She can paint, or build model ships, or—"

"You think it's that easy? Just pick up and start over?" Sevika's eyes are so dark the pupil and iris are indistinguishable. "What do you think she is, a fucking doll? Put her someplace new, and bam! She's fixed." She shakes her head. "Your sister's fucked beyond repair, Vi. There's no place for her anywhere. Except Zaun. Because our city gives her what she needs." She taps her temple. "Someplace to put all that chaos."

"That's not true! She doesn't have to be a monst—"

Vi breaks off, horrorstruck. She's spoken the forbidden truth. Her sister is a monster.

Just like Silco.

Sevika's eyes gleam cruelly. "Monster? That she is. No use making her into something else." Her chin tips. "Come to think, there was a kid who tried. After Silco took over the Drop, he'd hang around. Try to catch Jinx whenever she was alone. He'd show her toys he'd tinkered with. She'd show him her inventions. They'd be happy as clams." The reminiscence curdles into cynicism. "But whenever Silco showed up, Jinx clammed right up. Wouldn't leave his side. It didn't matter what the boy did or said. He might as well have been a pebble on the street. Something to make way for the man of the hour."

Realization judders through Vi.

"Ekko," she says.

"Yeah, that's right." Sevika snaps her fingers. "Ekko. The little man at Benzo's shop. He and Jinx had a thing, didn't they? Puppy love. I remember how they'd be off in the corner, doodling together. Always a few inches apart. Then he'd whisper something in her ear, and she’d light up like a birthday candle." A beat. "She sure wasn't smiling by the end. Neither was he."

"What are you talking about?"

"Oh, right. You were in the slammer."  A faux-pitying sneer, before she sobers. "After Jinx came to live with Silco, he needed someone who could fine-tune her... talents. Take her knack for guns, and make it deadly. But the teachers he brought in, they couldn't handle her. Too scared. Too impatient. One of 'em went apeshit on her. Slapped her upside the head a couple times. She ended up with a busted lip. Silco found out, and, well. It's never wise to lay a hand on what's his."

Her once-over takes in the topography of Vi's bruised flesh. Vi braces for fresh mockery. It doesn't come. Sevika's features remain neutral; a look that's seen it all before.

"After the crew dumped the fucker's body," she goes on, "we decided to look closer to home. Found ourselves a local tinkerer. Old Giz, down at the Abattoir. Fine gunsmith. He'd done business with Silco before. Had the smarts and the patience to deal with a powderkeg like Jinx. Every week, he'd take her out to the scrapyards. Show her how to dismantle a firearm. How to build it back up from scratch. She gave him plenty of lip. Called him Geezer and made fun of his gimp. But she listened. Learned. Soon, she was building her own guns. Models with unique designs. Ones that made Giz's creations look like junk. Silco was real impressed. So were the rest of us. Until..." Sevika's jaw hardens. "Turns out, Giz was too much of a softie for his own good. Silco had been paying him a premium to give Jinx private lessons. But Giz, he'd turned his shop into a bona fide daycare. He let Ekko drop in whenever the kid pleased. Didn't mind having him underfoot, either. Boy had a way with tools. He'd sit and work with Jinx, and they'd chatter non-stop. Sometimes, they'd be too busy playing to work. Giz didn't mind.  The way he saw it, the kids deserved to be kids."

Vi's throat works. "And—Silco found out."

"What can I say? He's a man who expects a bang for his buck. When he heard Giz had been letting Ekko hang around, he was none too happy. Giz had designed the security rigging at the Drop. And he knew where we stored the Shimmer.  One slip-up, and our headquarters would be compromised. Silco was pissed. But he didn't think Ekko was trouble. So he let it slide. Told Giz not to make the same mistake twice." Her lips pull in tight. "Then Giz did something even stupider."

"What?"

"He left the schematics of the Drop's security at his workshop. Ekko, the little shit, found 'em. Took a good long look. Made his own copies.  This was right around the time Jinx stopped taking her lessons with Giz. I don't know why. Maybe she got tired of his chatter. Maybe she found a better way to blow off steam. Whatever the case, Ekko didn't like it. He got it into his head that something fishy was going on. That maybe... Silco was hurting Jinx. He went from playing with her to pestering her. I'd see them sometimes on the rooftops. He'd be tugging her arm. Trying to get her to run away with him. But she wouldn't listen. Everytime Ekko pushed, she'd push back twice as hard. Eventually, he gave up." A beat. "Or so we thought."

A foreboding chill creeps in. "What happened?"

Sevika's eyes flick left and right, before resettling on Vi. "Ekko staged an... intervention. He got a bunch of brats from the Lanes together. They memorized the security checkpoints at the Last Drop. Then they decided to break inside, torch the Shimmer storehouse, and make a run for it—with Jinx in tow." She shakes her head. "The moron. I warned him to stay away. But he was gung-ho. Only fourteen, and Jinx was the moon to his sky. So, he and his gang—they snuck in at midday. Right when the guards changed shifts."

Vi's mind reels. She knows what comes next.

"It was a massacre. Jinx knew they were coming. Don't know how, exactly, but she knew. She went and told Silco. I remember them both in the barroom the night before. Him sitting at the counter. Her standing by his shoulder. Going on tiptoe to whisper in his ear. They had the same look. Same set to the mouth. The same fucking eye."  Sevika's features shade into grimness. "The next day, Ekko and his gang snuck in. One of them stepped on a trigger wire. Set off a silent alarm. When they entered Silco's office, our guards were waiting. The punks didn't have a chance. Most were scrappers with switchblades and flashbangs. Silco's crew were trained militia.  And they'd been armed with the brand-new guns Jinx had designed. I still remember those babies. The model was similar to a High Standard 10 riot gun. Generates a muzzle velocity of 625 feet per second. Enough to blast through an armored vehicle—or blow a man's guts across the room."

Vi's skin feels two sizes too small. She remembers the way Powder used to hold the toy guns at the old Arcade. The way she'd cock her elbow and squint down the barrel, her tongue peeking from the corner of her mouth.

Just a kid.

And Silco turned her into a killer.

"How many…?" she whispers. "How many kids were with Ekko?"

"Six. All gangly brats. We had 'em rounded up in seconds. Then Silco ordered 'em dragged outside. There, as the Lanes watched, our men popped 'em, one by one, like fish in a barrel. Ekko got the ringside view. Held Silco's attention till the very end. Till his last little friend went belly-up, and his skull split like a melon. Ekko started crying. But Silco didn't want tears. He wanted to send a message. The old days of turf wars were over. The thefts, the break-ins, the midnight raids. They were all gonna end. And the Lanes were gonna toe the line. Or else."

Vi swallows a reflux of bile. "Ekko was a good kid. He didn't deserve—"

"He and his pals were a bunch of uppercut morons. What'd he think would happen? He and Jinx would ride off into the sunset on a pair of unicorns?" Sevika’s lips peel back from her teeth. "All of it could've been avoided if he'd minded his own damn business. Left Jinx be, and respected Silco's rules. But no. He wanted to play the big damn hero. To take Jinx away from the one man who had the resources—the balls—to keep her safe."

"Ekko was trying to protect her!"

"Bullshit. He was trying to 'fix' her. Same as you. He thought she'd be someplace different, and click! All that faulty wiring would untangle itself. Like she was a clockwork toy that needed a new set of springs." Disgust grits itself into Sevika's features. "People aren't gears and levers, Vi. And the past doesn't wash off like dirt. Everything Jinx did at the Cannery—the blood, the bodies—was a consequence of her own goddamn choices. There's no undoing that. Or unmaking her. A monster is… as a monster does."

The dreary summation of life and death in the Lanes—a lesson of brutal math that Vi has known since she was knee-high—doesn't keep the boiling tears from her eyes. Vi sinks her teeth into her lower lip until the pain stills the impulse to cry.

Or scream.

"Ekko got the message," Sevika goes on. "So did Jinx. She watched the whole thing. Watched the kids fall, one by one. Watched Ekko break down crying. Watched his rescue mission turn into what it was. Just a bunch of punks running around half-cocked. By the end, Ekko was a mess. Splattered in his friends' guts, and shaking like a leaf. He kept looking to Jinx, hoping against hope she'd help. That she'd do something. Anything. But she never did. She just stood by Silco's side. Didn't cry. Didn't even flinch. After the bodies were hauled off, Ekko got locked up the basement. Silco planned to put his skills to use. Get the little rat to work for Zaun. But it didn't work out. After a week, the kid slipped loose."

"How?"

"Good question." Sevika tips a shoulder. "I suspect Jinx knows the answer."

"You think… she helped him escape?"

"Like I said. Puppy love. Maybe she cared. Or maybe she thought it'd be funny. A final Fuck You." Her laugh holds a note of marvel. "Point is—the kid scarpered. Doubt he got very far. Likely some charitable soul took him in. Likely Giz himself. We sent the crew to his shop, but Giz denied harboring fugitives. And Silco didn't want to kill the only gunsmith in the Lanes. He was ready to let Giz be. Except the old man had nearly cost us five-thousand Hexes of Shimmer. An example had to be made. Silco ordered me to take his right eye. So I did." A shrug, but her expression, for a moment, is oddly spooked. "You wanna know the funny thing? The old man didn't scream. Not once. He said he understood the risks, and was willing to pay the price. Afterward, he told me something else, too. Said he didn't blame Jinx. Told me she'd have been happier with Ekko, but she was safer with Silco. And if those are a girl's only two options, then fuck it. It's the world at fault, not her."

Her face clears, then closes like a door. "Maybe he had a point. The fact is, Jinx made her choice. She did the night she chose to tell Silco about Ekko's plans. She did when she watched those kids die without lifting a finger. She did when she let Ekko loose, and took her place by Silco's side. Your sister knows the score, Vi. Always pick the winning team. No matter how much it hurts. Because the world doesn't give a shit about your tears. It's not gonna hold your hand and kiss your boo-boos. It'll push you down and grind you under, and it'll do it with a smile. And if those are your odds, it's better to have a monster in your corner—and firepower in your hands—than to have a hero with nothing but a fucking wrench in his."

Vi has no comeback handy; her tongue is a desiccated stub.

She thinks of Ekko as a boy. Quick with a quip; quicker with a smile. A boy who'd lost his family, then lost whatever remained. Who'd witnessed a slaughter at Silco's hands. Who'd gone on, as a full-blown adult, to fight the monster with everything he had.

No matter how much it hurt.

"Winning team, huh?" Her throat is raw. "What about the people caught in the middle? Where's their victory?"

"Them's the breaks. The past is the past. There's only one direction. Forward."

Sevika's delivery is a smooth; her eyes are flint. Like a gambler who's all in. Vi wonders what feeds her stoicism. Wrong choices in the past, where she'd been forced to live with the consequences. Or right ones, and their bitter pay-off. Vi thinks of the woman's history. Her father, the Wharfside Devil. His business: bootlegging, brawling, murder. His fate: a life sentence in Stillwater. 

Sevika, Vi thinks, is the byproduct of her father's errors.

Just as Powder is the byproduct of Vi's.

#arcane #arcane league of legends #arcane silco #silco #forward but never forget/xoxo #forward (never forget)/xoxo #arcane jinx #jinx #snippet #arcane sevika #arcane vi #arcane ekko #ekko #vi #timebomb #jinx x ekko #ekkojinx

[canonizzyhours]

i don't think i'm the first person to say this but the big takeaway i'm taking from the canyon breakdown is that you should never try to make all your fans happy.

like it's pretty clear at this point what the deal with izzy was: in s1 he existed primarily to be the same kind of antagonist for ed the badmintons were for stede - a figure in ed's life who could externalize and reinforce his self-destructive beliefs. to the extent the writers had any plans for him after that, they involved the planned reveal we now know about that he was in the siete gallos, and i doubt they had nailed down anything very firm about how they meant to handle that. and, crucially, it's pretty clear at this point that izzy's sexual attraction to ed was never meant to be his central motivation. it's THERE, for sure, but it's there to be sort of an ironic twist on his explicit textual motivations of ambition and homophobia and toxic masculinity, a little spice added into the mix, not a climactic reveal of what he's really all about.

now this doesn't mean the writers had a firm plan that izzy COULDN'T become more important, or have a redemption, or what have you. the siete gallos reveal likely would have meant at least a season where izzy was a full villain, but even if they went that way, after that a redemption could have been on the table (although so would an unrepentant villain's death). they were open to taking him in lots of different potential directions in s2.

so say you're one of the writers. after s1 you find that not only did the show overall get a stronger response than you ever dreamed, this antagonist you wrote as a basically unsympathetic villain in s1 is an unexpected fan favorite and people are clamoring for a redemption arc for him. that's great! as a writer you love to hear that. you always want your characters to get strong reactions from the fanbase. and it's not like you specifically planned NOT to redeem izzy, it was always on the list of options. so you agree to throw out anything you'd still be considering about the siete gallos plot, since that would entail more villainy, and instead focus on redeeming izzy into a good guy over the course of s2.

now there's a small problem with that: if you do it, you're obviously going to have to kill him once the redemption arc is complete. that's clear, because in s1 he was written to have zero sympathetic character traits - even his "loyalty" isn't a positive kind - so in order to redeem him you're going to have to basically get rid of every personality trait that makes him interesting. at the end of the redemption arc he'll be a character who makes no sense to keep around. but, hey, that makes sense - you already meant for ed and stede to be comfortably in a relationship by the end of the season, so killing the character who exists to symbolize the internal issues that hold ed back from committing to the relationship completely works!

you know the fans are invested in the sexual aspect of izzy's feelings for ed, and that some of them ship them together. unfortunately, this is pretty incompatible with a redemption arc, since izzy's stalkery obsession pretty much exists to motivate him to do evil things and treat ed like his property, so you'll have to get him over those feelings. but you're careful with this: you make sure to write some dialogue into the first few episodes that alludes to that relationship and is ambiguous enough to interpret in multiple ways - "i have...love for you," "loved you best i could" - to throw a bone to the blackhands shippers before firmly closing the door on that arc and writing izzy as having gotten over those feelings.

it's going to be hard to redeem izzy in one season. you know his actions near the end of s1 were damn near unforgivable, because you wrote them that way. so you carefully break down what he needs to do to be truly redeemed. you make sure he suffers a lot near the beginning of the season, enough that it's indisputable he's been punished for what he did (and it takes a LOT of suffering to be sure it's an adequate punishment, considering). you arrange for him to be touched by the undeserved mercy he receives from stede and stede's crew. you devote a full episode of izzy time to showing he's over his homophobia and willing to openly do some gay shit now. you have him symbolically reverse every horrible thing he did in s1. all so it can culminate in a true redemption where this character who originally existed to force ed to stay blackbeard dies giving him permission to just be ed.

basically what i'm saying is at every turn the writers were trying to give the canyon as much slack as they possibly could while preserving the core of izzy's actual narrative role. they were never going to portray izzy as having been a good guy in season 1, or portray izzy's love for ed as being in any way redemptive instead of being a creepy selfish obsession, or treat him as a character who did not exist ultimately to symbolize ed's issues. they couldn't do any of that without it being a profound narrative betrayal of the izzy they set up in season 1. but within those bounds, they worked so, so hard to give the canyon as much as they could.

and the result is that the canyon's now much angrier than they would have been if the writers had just stuck with siete gallos izzy. at least then they'd have known early in the season they weren't getting what they wanted, instead of spending the whole month thinking they were being proven right only to have the rug yanked out from under them right at the end.

#393.

#ofmd #izzy hands #canonizzyhours

[m0cha-madn3ss]

Scare

Summary: When the youngest two go out on mission, the rest of the team become antsy. What more to distract them than to put on a horror movie? AU: - Pairing: Avengers team x Reader Warning: Angst with a happy ending Link: Masterlist

---

Peter and (Y/n) had just gone for a mission together to infiltrate an abandoned Hydra base and it made the whole team jittery. Sure, those two could handle themselves with Peter's spider abilities and (Y/n)'s powers but to see their youngest lovers go to a Hydra base even if it was abandoned made them anxious.

Tony and Bruce holed themselves up in their lab and worked on a project to try and distract themselves. Steve, Bucky and Clint were always in the training room, sparring. Natasha, who never danced unless she was so stressed, danced until her ankles broke. Wanda tried helping others by feeding them and making them get a good night's sleep but her head was always in a turmoil.

Even though they had promised Peter and (Y/n) that they would take care of themselves, the team found themselves going against their promise. And to add fuel to fire, Ross continued pestering them to sign those stupid accords.

The tower which was usually filled with laughter and joy was now filled with tension and nervous energy.

---

Steve was already on the brink of snapping at someone but when he couldn't find the t-shirt that Peter had bought him, it tipped him over the edge. 

He went to the dining room and saw his lovers eating their breakfast quietly, each in their own heads. "Where is my green shirt?", Steve asked, crossing her arms as he leaned on one leg.

The question broke everyone out of their thoughts as Wanda replied that she had put it in the wash earlier, unaware of the upcoming argument. 

"Why the hell are you taking my stuff? No one asked you to do it", he grumbled, glaring at her.

Wanda's temper flared. "That is the point of helping. No one asks for help with these things. You have to help them even if they don't ask", she said standing up.

"I don't need help and I need that shirt. Why the hell would you take things from me without my permission?", Steve started shouting.

"Because you are my lover. All of you are my lovers. And you guys moping around like this means that you need someone to take care of you. And it seems like I am the only one who can do that", she retorted.

"Oh yeah. Take care of us. Now you are sounding more like my nanny than my partner", pitched in Natasha.

"We don't need you to take care of us. We can take care of ourselves perfectly", Tony glared at her.

"Yeah. If I leave you guys alone for one day, you would be so damn miserable. You guys are messes right now and I am trying to help you guys", Wanda replied, rolling her eyes.

"We don't need help", shouted Bruce, his voice melding with the Hulk.

"And we don't need you!", finished Steve.

A stunned silence fell upon the team. Wanda's eyes widened with unshed tears. Steve lost his temper as quickly as it had come after realizing what he had spoken. He stepped forward towards Wanda only for her to start moving backwards before breaking into a run to the elevator. Steve moved after her but Bucky kept a hand on Steve's shoulder, shaking his head.

"All of you need some time alone to cool off", he muttered. "And I need some coffee", he added.

---

Wanda entered the elevator and with a shaking voice told Jarvis to go up to her floor. The words 'We don't need you' uttered by Steve kept revolving in her head. The moment she entered her floor, she let a shaky exhale before letting her tears fall. She knew he didn't mean it as she saw into his head after he uttered those words, but it still stung. She decided to sleep for sometime to cool off.

When she woke up again, her head felt lighter and her tears had dried up. She knew that everyone had lashed out due to their stress. She made a plan to distract her partners. Muttering to herself, she stood up and showered, putting on more clean and comfortable lounge clothes before heading to the kitchen on her floor. With her powers, she made popcorn and baked cupcakes which (Y/n) and she would bake during movie nights. She looked in the fridge and was pleased to find that her fridge had not run out of those cool drinks. Taking one for each of her lovers and putting them in a tray, she headed down to the common floor with the tray of cupcakes and bowl of popcorn floating beside her.

She quickly headed to the small home theater and picked a horror movie, kept the snacks on a table before asking Jarvis to inform everyone to come to the theater room in 15 minutes in comfortable clothes.

As she waited, she thought back to the time when (Y/n) had first introduced her to the cupcake recipe. It was 5 months after they started dating and Wanda had begged (Y/n) to know how the hell she did those out of the world cupcakes. It was one of those memories she had always carried and cherished with her. It provided her happiness when she felt down.

She was so distracted in her musing that she did not realize that Steve had been standing awkwardly next to her. She was broken out of her trance when Steve waved his hand in front of her hand.

Looking at his guilty face, she beckoned him to sit next to her.

"Look, I know you didn't mean it when you had said those words so don't fret okay?", she consoled him.

But Steve shook his head. "Dove, I basically told you that I don't want you. You can't possibly forgive and forget?"

"Forgive, yes but forget, no. Look, Stevie, what you said did make me upset", Wanda started raising her hand when he tried to interrupt, "but, I know you didn't mean that. Petey and (Y/n/n) going on their mission has stressed all of us and this stress has pushed too far, but it will always be us against the world. No matter what, we stick together even if you say you don't want us or even if Bucky is under the impression that the chicken came first."

Steve chuckled wetly at that. (Y/n) and Bucky had a huge debate on what came first: The chicken or the egg. Everyone except Bucky had agreed that the egg came first but Bucky was adamant on the fact that the chicken came first.

When the rest of their lovers came, they did not comment when they saw Steve and Wanda clinging to each other. They did not do anything other than to fall on them, laughing at their painful oomphs- before exclaiming at the snacks in the table before them and cuddling with each other as the horror movie started. They had no worries except for the longing of their two missing pieces. Peter and (Y/n).

---

"Do you think they will really take care of themselves while we are away?", Peter asked one night as they cuddled each other in their safe house.

"Knowing them, I don't think so but I hope they will", (Y/n) replied looking at him.

Cupping his face and kissing him, she suddenly stood up. Peter took her arm and stood up as well, when she stretched her arm towards him and together, they went to the balcony.

They had patrolled the building and after finding no heat signals throughout the building except for the last room, they decided to go in cautiously. After infiltrating the base and finding the files and freeing those prisoners(?), they could go back to their partners.

Under the silent gaze of the stars, with each other in their arms, they slept off, mentally preparing themselves for the next day.

---

They had planned to go into the base in the evening, so in the morning they prepared themselves, choosing the weapons of their choice and making sure that there was no damage to their suits. Obviously, a suit designed by Tony himself would not have any faults but they had to check once so that it would not act up in the middle of their time in the base.

They ate their lunch in silence and took a quick nap and at 4, they were ready to go.

Suiting up, they left the safe house and started walking to the base to be discreet. After half an hour, they reached the base.

Opening it, they were not surprised by the ghostly silence. They checked all the rooms for possible information but found nothing but a small USB that (Y/n) pocketed quickly. As they approached the last room, and (Y/n) went to reach the handle, Peter stopped her. Since he didn't want the people inside to hear them, he used sign language. The whole team were quite fluent in sign language since they wanted to surprise Clint on his birthday once.

"If the people in this room are serving Hydra, we could be in trouble. If they are prisoners, then all is well", said Peter.

"What do you propose we do?", asked (Y/n), hands glowing slightly.

"Make an illusion of us two entering the room, if they attack them, we kill them. If not, we don't", said Peter after thinking for some time.

"Then I guess you and I are gonna stick to the wall", signed (Y/n), raising an eyebrow.

Peter beamed and nodded at that.

So they put their plan into motion. Peter stuck himself to the wall and held (Y/n) tightly as she sent two illusions to open the door. The moment the illusions opened the door, a rain of bullets fell upon them which caused Peter and (Y/n) to move. Taking advantage of their momentary confusion at seeing two versions of them, Peter and (Y/n) attacked them successfully, killing them on the spot. After making sure that they had died, they took in their surroundings and noticed a safe in the middle of the room which was locked with a number lock. Peter grabbed it grunting slightly at its weight before starting their return journey to their safe house.

After gathering all the belongings and the USB and the safe, they went to the jet which was expertly camouflaged and started their return journey to the tower.

---

The whole team was on the edge as they saw the girl look into the rooms of the house with nothing but a pencil as her weapon. She opened the first door which made a creaking noise which made the team jump. In the same fashion, she opened all the other doors but didn't find anything.

As she started opening the last door, the team heard a small creak which was definitely not from the movie but from their room. Everyone froze, knowing that none of them had moved to make the creak before hesitantly looking at the door. There standing at the door, was the exact same ghost that they were seeing in the movie. Seeing its evil grin, the team screamed, in sync with the girl in the movie. However, they stopped their screams when they heard laughter which belonged to... 

Peter and (Y/n) stood now in the place of the ghost with a golden hue around (Y/n)'s fist stating that she had just used her powers. 

Natasha started running after them which stopped their laughter and stood panicked. Just as Natasha grabbed them, they disappeared into dust leading her to stumble. 

Natasha cursed aloud for a solid one minute leading everyone to laugh at her. She stood up and ran out of the room searching for the tricksters who were actually hiding behind the door where Natasha had not searched for them. Peter and (Y/n) went to the cuddle pile and dropped into the laps of Wanda and Bucky and after 20 minutes Natasha came in muttering curses only to stop when she saw her partners cuddled up against each other dozing off. Smiling, she too joined the cuddle pile and everyone slept off in the theater room, no one missing and their youngest two in their arms.

--- A/n: Hey everyone! Hope you liked this small oneshot :) 

You are loved <3 Proud of you guys :3

#fanfic #fanfiction #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #fanfic writing #mcu #the avengers #avengers team x reader #polyamory #polyamarous #natasha romanoff #natasha romanov #clint barton #hawkeye #black widow #natasha romanova #tony stark #iron man #steve rogers #captain america #bruce banner #the hulk #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch #james barnes #bucky barnes #winter soldier #peter parker #spider man

[pjohoo-reclists]

PJO/HoO & DC Batman Crossover Fic Recs

Request: A rec list featuring PJO/HoO and DC (Batman) Crossovers with no Percy/Annabeth, if possible. For @captainquake42. Enjoy!

See this rec list for Percy & Bruce | Batman fics.

Skin has gotten thicker but it burns the same by X_Artemis_X

T | 1.0k | Complete

Percy Jackson, Jason Todd

Hurt no Comfort, Nightmares, Blood and Injury

It felt like everything was moving in slow motion. The knife sinking and twisting in flesh. The blood seeping out and on his hands. The knife coming out. If his brain hadn't been consumed by some kind of fog, Percy is sure he'd have heard the man's scream as he fell to his knees. - When Percy, tired and hazy, is pulled into an alley, he reacts on noting but pure instinct. Unfortunately for him and his attacker, his instincts are to kill or risk the possibility of death. Whumptober Day 7 The Way You Shake and Shiver |Shaking Hands|

No one seems to notice when you're down (Unless you are bleeding) by X_Artemis_X

T | 1.1k | Complete

Percy Jackson & Tim Drake

Blood and Injury, Stab Wound, Budding Friendship

There’s movement and words, but Percy can’t make out any of it. He’s lost too much blood, his bandages too loose to actually do anything. His vision goes black, and everything around him disappears as he collapses on the floor. - Two times Percy's injured and needs help. Two times a vigilante helps him, only one of which he is conscious for. Whumptober Day 11 "911, what's your emergency?" Sloppy Bandages | Self-Done First Aid | Makeshift Splint

I Guess There's Gotta be a Break in the Monotony (But Jesus When it Rains it Pours) by X_Artemis_X

T | 1.2k | Complete

Percy Jackson & Sally Jackson

Hurt no Comfort, Gotham's Vigilantes, Homelessness

He would do it if he had no other choice, if it was him or them, but he doesn't think he could handle killing someone. Not to mention that doing so would also put him in the radar of the local vigilantes. Being noticed by the vigilantes would probably mean being put in the foster system. And that. That’s about the last thing he wants. — After losing his mom, Percy doesn’t have anywhere else to turn to but the cold streets of New Jersey. He’s determined to handle homelessness just as well as Percy’s handled every other mythological quest, and he's doing good. At least, that's what he tells himself.

Weak Link by X_Artemis_X

T | 1.8k | Complete

Percy Jackson & Cassandra Cain, Percy Jackson & Grover Underwood, Chiron & Grover Underwood

Percy Jackson needs a hug, Mental Link, Panic Attacks

And then, through the haze of panic and breathlessness, something breaks through. A wave of alarm-worry-concern washes through him, and the feelings are distinctly not his. Grover. - When Grover feels Percy's distress through the link, he does the only thing he can- he sends comfort.

Dry and Drowning by X_Artemis_X

T | 2.0k | Complete

Percy Jackson & Tim Drake

Drowning, Near Death Experiences

Slowly, the world started to come back into focus. He was soaking wet and freezing cold, his whole body shaking. His hands were clutching at dirt from where he was on his hands and knees, down on the ground. There was a hand on his back, rubbing soothing circles. Tim froze. His breaths were still hard and wheezing, but every other muscle was tense and ready for action, despite the exhaustion dragging at his limbs. The hand was too small to be either Bruce or Dick. - One night, Percy is sitting on a bridge's rail and enjoying the view. Unfortunately, his peace and quiet is interrupted when Gotham's very own Robin falls into the river. Whumptober Day 18 Let's Break the Ice Treading Water | "Take my coat."

Little Miracles by Solemini (SoleminiSanction)

T | 2.3k | Completed

Bruce Wayne/Athena, Bruce Wayne & His Kids, Bat Family

AU Demigods, Kid Fic, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent

When Bruce Wayne startles awake to find Athena, Goddess of Wisdom, at the foot of his bed, he is not as surprised as he probably should be. Or, in which Bruce is Mount Olympus's #1 DILF. A Percy Jackson/Half blood/Demigod AU.

Oh my Gods by siren_of_the_ocean

G | 2.6k | Completed

Tim Drake & Thalia Grace, Tim Drake & Bruce Wayne

BAMF Tim Drake, Tim Drake is a Demigod, BAMF Thaila Grace

Tim Drake is a demigod in the Battle of Manhattan. He sends Thalia to inform the Justice league about well...Everything. And Kon is concerned.

Cassandra, what do you see? by X_Artemis_X

T | 2.7k | Complete

Percy Jackson & Cassandra Cain

POV Alternating, Confused Percy Jackson, Timeline what timeline

Kind. She hasn’t heard it a lot, but she still knows what it means. A foreign concept, strange and confusing, but still very much real. She thinks of the ways she saw Percy be kind, and she wants. She only wishes she had the words to explain it. - Cassandra sees a boy, obviously trained, and she follows him. Percy meets a girl, obviously trained, and is as confused as he is wary. Though the wariness starts to fade. The confusion does not.

The Damned Prince of Gotham by DragonflyxParodies

T | 4.2k+ | Last Updated June 2, 2023

Jason Todd & Thanatos, Jason Todd & Hazel Levesque, Jason Todd & Nico di Angelo

Jason Todd is a demigod, Camp Jupiter, Camp Half Blood

the red hood is the son of justice and death and rebirth, and that means something.

the gray and beamless atmosphere by adaimperium

T | 12k | Complete

Percy Jackson & Annabeth Chase, Damian Wayne and Annabeth Chase, Alfred Pennyworth & Annabeth Chase

Annabeth Chase is a Wayne, Angst and Feels, Annabeth Chase has Abandonment Issues

Annabeth leaves home two days after Jason’s death with nothing but his old go-bag and a hammer liberated from the shed. She comes back for two months after six years and leaves without a goodbye. The Wayne Family isn’t quite sure what to do with their prodigal and war-weary daughter.

the ship of theseus by zipadeea

T | 15k | Complete

Percy Jackson/Annabeth Chase, Percy Jackson & Sally Jackson, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne

Family Feels, Major Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort

“What do you think of the Waynes?” Percy had asked Annabeth the week before. “Seems like they’re in Gotham’s headlines all the time, and not always for great reasons. You think they’re involved with the mob or something?” “The opposite, actually,” Annabeth had replied, a wry smile on her face. “What’s the opposite of the mob?” “In Gotham? What do you think?” Percy’s eyes had widened. “No. No way. Bruce Wayne is such a goof, there’s no way--,” “Wouldn’t that be the best cover, though?” *** Poseidon once told Percy he was his favorite son. But he's not the only one.

Hugs by KlyssaCarrie

G | 18k | Complete

Annabeth Chase & Damian Wayne, Annabeth Chase & Chiron, Chiron & Damian Wayne

Damian Wayne needs a hug, Camp Half Blood, Powerful Percy Jackson

hug (/hʌɡ/) plural noun: hugs 'an act of holding someone tightly in one's arms, typically to express affection.'

Rising Tides by MinervaOfRome (MistressOfDestruction), MistressOfDestruction

Not Rated | 29k+ | Last Updated April 27, 2023

Percy Jackson & Jason Todd, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd

Percy Jackson Needs a Hug, Jason Todd is Good With Kids, Percy Jackson is a Little Shit

The tides were rising. Jason Todd could feel them when he walked the streets, green acid sloshing at his ankles. It wasn’t really there, he knew. The green was a figment of his imagination, a physical manifestation of his perception of the fear around him. The poison waves had risen since Batman split his throat in two. The tides were rising, faster by the day. What if they swallowed Gotham? Jason couldn't let that happen. The tides were rising. Percy Jackson stood by the docks; he'd watched nine bodies drop into the dark waters. Each one made the steadily rising water go up just a little more. He wasn't supposed to be in this city. It didn't matter that he'd indirectly killed Gabe, but there was no regret in his thoughts on the matter. Gabe had beaten his mother to death. The tides were rising, faster by the hour. Was there someone sitting by the water? Percy couldn't let them drown.

Gotham's Legacy by Speechless_since_1998

T | 42k+ | Last Updated April 25, 2024

Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Tim Drake & Jason Todd

Rick Riordan Demigod Universe | Riordanverse, Alternate Universe - Percy Jackson Fusion, Kid fic

“I don't know how to take care of myself. Let alone a child." "Children." Bruce looked away from the water to look at Athena, surprised. She smirked, “Do you think it will be just one? More will come. Abandoned children. Children who don't know which way is theirs. You will be their guide. You will be father of heroes, Bruce." Bruce never wanted to deal with the gods, whatever pantheon they belonged to. Gotham had enough problems without adding rancorous gods and mythological monsters into the mix. But the gods won't leave him alone, and he finds himself the parent of the most powerful demigod of this generation, while the Triumvirate sinks its roots in Gotham to conquer the world.

#pjo #percy jackson #rrverse #rec list #hoo #pjo hoo toa #pjo series #pjo fandom #heroes of olympus #riordanverse #batman #bruce wayne #cassandra cain #tim drake #annabeth chase #dick grayson #jason todd #damian wayne #alfred pennyworth #athena #batfamily #batman fanfics #batfam #pjo and batman #crossover #fic recs

[scaramoosy]

Late night texting with your ex-boyfriend is never a good idea, but I went ahead anyway. With a sigh, I sent him a 'hi' and anxiously awaited his response. You're probably wondering about this guy. Satoru Gojo, my ex-boyfriend, is more gorgeous than the Greek gods, with bright blue eyes, snow-white hair, a 6'3" muscular frame, and veiny arms.

It was 3 AM, and I had no clue why ! texted him after three months apart.

Maybe I just missed his presence. We didn't break up because of cheating; it was more complicated than that. I nervously chewed my lip, knowing he was awake-he never slept, always staying up to protect me. I shuddered at the thought of him protecting someone else now. When my phone finally dinged, it was Gojo with a simple

'hi.'

We exchanged texts:

Me: Why are you up?

Gojo: I can ask you the same thing too, y'know?

Me: I couldn't sleep.

Gojo: Really? Maybe we should do something about that then.

Me: Are you with someone?

I didn't know why I asked that.

Jealousy, maybe? The thought of him with someone else churned my insides.

Gojo: No, why do you ask?

Me: Just wanted to make sure I'm not disturbing you.

Goio: You know vuu can never disturb me, love.

There it was-the nickname he used when we were together. I sighed, then another message came in.

Gojo: You said you can't sleep. I have an idea.

Me: Enlighten me.

Gojo: Take off your shirt.

I widened my eyes at his response.

Why would he want that?

Me: What? Why?

Gojo: Be a good girl and do what I say without questioning me.

I hated how much control he still had over me, but I did as he said, now bare from the waist up.

Me: ...I did

Gojo: Always so obedient. My sweet little princess.

I blushed and clenched my thighs together. What has this man done to me?

Gojo: What happened princess? Cat got your tongue?

Me: No, I just didn't expect you to reply to me that way.

Gojo: What way, princess? I didn't say anything out of ordinary.

I could feel his smug smirk through the screen.

Me: Shut up.

Gojo: Now that's not a nice way to talk to someone. Keep in mind that actions have consequences, princess.

I smirked. If he wanted to tease and play games, I was ready.

Me: What are you gonna do? Come over and knock this attitude out of me?

Gojo: Don't tempt me, princess. You might not be able to handle me if I did that.

Me: You're delusional. I'm a tough girl.

Of course I know how to handle people like you.

Gojo: Oh yeah? Let's see what that mouth of yours will say once I'm over there and fuck each of your bratty attitudes out of you.

I blushed. Maybe I wanted him to come over and do just that.

Me: All your tongue does is ramble stupid things. You know you can never do that.

Gojo: You're playing with fire here, princess. Once I'm there, my tongue is gonna show how much more it can do than just ramble.

Me: Pfft, as if. We both know you don't have the guts to actually do that.

Gojo: You know what, I'm done talking.

He went offline. I panicked, worried I had gone too far and upset him. Ten minutes later, there were knocks on my door. At nearly 3:30 AM, I opened it to find Gojo. He grabbed my neck, pushing me inside and trapping me against the wall. His blue eyes bore into mine, his grip tight.

"What happened, princess? Cat got your tongue again?" he smirked, noticing my reaction.

He spread my legs with his knee and whispered, "You thought I'd let you get away with this? Speak up, kitten." His new nickname turned me on.

"What are you doing here?" | managed to ask.

"I'm here to prove l'm the real winner of this game and to claim you as mine again. By the time I'm done, all you'll think about is me," he whispered, lifting me and carrying me to my bedroom.

He laid me gently on the bed, his hands tracing familiar paths down my body, igniting every nerve with a touch that was both demanding and tender.

His lips followed the same trail, leaving me breathless and yearning. The room seemed to pulse with the intensity of the moment, every sense heightened, every touch electric.

As he kissed me, his lips moved from my mouth to my neck, and I couldn't help but arch into him, a soft moan escaping my lips. He smiled against my skin, his hands exploring, reminding me just how well he knew my body. I tugged at his shirt, and he obliged, tossing it aside before pulling me closer.

His breath was hot against my ear as he whispered, "Still think I only ramble stupid things?" | shook my head, too caught up in the sensation to respond with words. He chuckled, a low, throaty sound that sent shivers down my spine.

The night stretched on, a blur of heated kisses and tangled limbs. He took his time, every movement deliberate, every touch designed to drive me to the edge. And when he finally whispered my name, it felt like a promise, a reminder of everything we once had and everything we could still be.

In the aftermath, as we lay entwined, the world outside seemed distant and unimportant. For now, there was only us, and the lingering echo of his touch on my skin.

#pov #anime #jjk x reader #jjk gojo #gojo satoru #jujutsu gojo #gojo x reader #pls idk why i wrote this😭

[arcaneyouth]

it is So Weird how working on my comic makes me feel like i have more free time. and gives me more free time. logically, working on 3 comic pages a week would mean i have Less Time. but no. despite everything, i'm getting more done and able to use my time better now that i'm working on comic pages again. what the hell is up with that.

#it's probably the structure and routine tbh i've been doing this for 6 years #i feel way less stressed about all the stuff i have to do than the 2 months i wasn't working on the comic #and arguably i have more to do now!!!!! #there's just so many little things that working on my comic helps me with. vital part of my daily and weekly structure #1) gives me a Main Goal to focus on every week and it's a goal that i know is achievable #2) gives me things to do almost every day that i am able to get started on right away and then will have free time later when i'm done #3) on days i'm not working on it i feel more comfortable doing things for fun or completing smaller tasks #4) because it's a weekly schedule i actually know what day it is now. completely lost track of the days before. made me really scared tbh #5) actually allows me to relax. the way i make pages means it's a lil bit mindless half the time. which is nice #i spent most of the last 2 months when i wasn't making comic in bed. because i had nothing else to do #now i am not doing that! because even when i'm not working on pages i have the motivation to do things! #this is an ironic post to make when i've spent like 6-7 hours today just playing fathomverse #but that's the thing!!!! instead of hating myself for doing that i still feel like i can get shit done! #also i already knew all this about making comics and how i function but. man idk how to put this #i spent the last 2 months struggling to do fucking Anything #and it was after i was so sure i could handle taking a break from the comic #and it was after lots of people have told me i need to put the comic down and get a job #or do anything that isn't making a comic #i have been working on the comic again for 9 days. and already everything feels more manageable #i literally Need to have projects like this. if i dont i will lose my mind. nobody tell me i need to do other things with my life ever agai

[aberooski]

Since today is Thanksgiving and all that, I'm thankful for the conversation I had with my sister yesterday that led to me figuring out a lot of stuff for my Stormshipping Cinderella au so I can start writing it a lot sooner than I thought I would because I'm slow as shit. Chazzerella is on the horizon! Next year babes 👀

#figured out some lore and logistic stuff that would bug me not to acknowledge #because my toxic trait as a writer is that I do the most appropriately all of the time #she also helped me work out specifically how to handle the glass slipper situation in conjuction with Light and Darkness Dragon so yay!! #if I decide to do the ygobb next year again I might save it for that like I did OUAD but I'm not sure if I'm gonna do it again #or maybe take a break this year since I've done it the last 5 years in a row #I haven't written anything not for the ygobb in so long I kinda wanna take a break and do stuff just for me again #because the time constraints are what make me burn out so hard because I'm pushing myself too hard to get done #in what feels like such a short amount of time when it's honestly hard for me to write shorter fics as much as I want to #anyway it's gonna be a great au and I'm excited #also I'm gonna be posting my Fatal Frame crossover as I write it after I get the first few chapters done #that way we can pretend to have some consistency but I miss just writing and posting whenever I feel like it and have the mental power #I miss having longevity I feel like all my fics die off really quickly because I had to adhere to the bb posting schedule #we had to post every single day if we had multichapter fics every year until this year but we had to have it all up within 4 weeks #so I wanted to post OUAD twice a week but it has 12 chapters so I had to do 3 times a week instead #I just don't have the longevity I wish I could have so I'm taking it back #basically this crossover and this au are me taking back my own fics and protecting my brain from having to push too hard all the time #I want to enjoy the actual writing process again I'm tired of feeling stressed and that I have to finish it asap #but fuck it right? #yugioh #yugioh gx #stormshipping #chazz princeton #atticus rhodes #yugioh gx fanfiction

[osaemu]

GOJO SATORU: IT'S GONNA FEEL SO GOOD, I PROMISE!

.ೃ࿐ he's dreamt about fucking you for months, and now that you're finally in his sheets, he has no intent of letting you go—especially when he finds out that he's your first time. NSFW

contents: fem!reader. virgin!reader. kinda sorta subtle coercion, corruption kink, slight dubcon, fingering, p –> v, lots of praise!!, mentions of prior dirty dreams (about you).

author's note: had this stuck in my drafts for a while so uhhhh. yea enjoy. tagging @mymegumi bc i love selene ꨄ︎

"please, baby, it'll feel so good," satoru cooes, threading his fingers through your hair and pulling your face closer to his. "i promise i'll be gentle."

you shrug, scrunching up your nose at satoru hesitantly. "i don't know..."

your boyfriend presses his lips to yours briefly and smiles tenderly. satoru's soft eyes are fixed on you, only you as he widens them pleadingly. "i wanna teach you how to fuck. please, sweetheart, we can stop anytime. jus' wanna make you feel good, i promise!"

it's only partially a lie—yes, satoru certainly wants to teach you to fuck, but he's not entirely certain that he could just stop anytime. especially because he's well aware that fucking a virgin is such an addicting experience—satoru knows you're gonna be so tight that you'll just suck him in, and he isn't that confident that he'll be able to stop once he's started.

but whatever, that's a problem for later—for now, he's focused on persuading you to spread those legs for him and show him your pretty pussy.

you pause, considering his proposal. after a couple seconds, you nod hesitantly. "you promise you'll be gentle?" you ask meekly, averting your eyes.

satoru nods, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. "of course—now c'mon, let's get those clothes off of you, baby." and a couple agonizing minutes later, you're half naked underneath a shirtless satoru, and his fingers trace the inside of your thigh.

"so first, i'm gonna make you cum on my fingers, 'kay?" satoru informs you. "needa loosen you up so you can take my dick."

"o-okay," you whisper, swallowing nervously. "i'm a little scared," you admit, fiddling with the waistband of your lacy underwear. "will it hurt?"

after a moment, satoru nods in response. "at first it will. but then you're gonna feel so good, i promise."

"you promise?"

"i do."

satoru tugs down your panties and grins at the sight of your pussy, untouched and reserved just for him. he's dying to just fuck you then and there, rough and no prep, but he made a promise. and satoru has no intention of breaking it.

"ready?" he breathes, positioning his fingers just outside of your entrance. when you nod, he shakes his head. "i'm gonna need to hear it from you, baby. use your words."

"i'm r-ready," you confirm, inching your thighs farther apart for him.

"good girl."

then satoru slips his fingers inside, and you can't suppress the sudden moan that slips out of your lips. to you, it's embarrassing, but to satoru, it's music to his ears. he steadily pushes his fingers farther and farther into your tight cunt, and satoru can't help but marvel at the way you just suck him in.

"you're so fuckin' tight," satoru mumbles, eyes fixed on your pussy. "and so wet, too. i've barely even touched you, fuck."

it's agonizing, really—the sensation of having someone else's fingers inside of you is so new and so strange that you can almost ignore the pain (which is present but not as throbbing as you had feared). satoru makes sure to be as gentle as he can, which unfortunately isn't quite as gentle as you'd like—but it's not too rough for you to handle.

satoru starts widening his fingers in a scissor-like motion, stretching you farther apart to make room for his already rock-hard dick. you squirm around him and whine about how deep his fingers are, but satoru dismisses your complaints with a laugh. "c'mon, this is barely the beginning. if ya can't take this, how're you gonna take my dick?"

a couple minutes later, when satoru finally deems you loose enough, he pulls out his now-drenched fingers. looking you in the eye with a smug smile, he slips his fingers into his mouth and licks your slick off of them. "mm, you taste so good, pretty. lemme see if you feel as good as you taste, yeah?"

and that's how he convinces you to keep your thighs nice and spread wide open for him as he positions the head of his dick at your entrance, practically trembling from the effort it takes to not just pound into you. you're so compliant and perfect for satoru, and it takes every ounce of his willpower to resist the urge to push you up against the headboard and fuck you until you pass out.

but somehow, he manages to control himself. "alright, baby, this is gonna hurt," satoru warns, touching his reddening tip to your soaked pussy. "you ready?"

"y-yeah," you breathe, distantly noticing the way your hands start to tremble. satoru exhales softly and shakes his hair out of his eyes before gently pushing himself inside of you, and the first thought that enters your head is that he's ridiculously big—it feels like you're getting torn apart every second he goes in farther.

"satoruuu," you whine, starting to paw at his chest when he goes in farther, and it's too much, too fast, but he only grins down at you in response. "it hurts, ow... y're too—"

"uh uh, just shut your pretty mouth n' take it," satoru groans, shifting the angle of his hips and going in a little deeper. you cry out in pain, face scrunching up in an effort to numb the stinging sensation around your waist. satoru dips his head and kisses your forehead, murmuring praises on how well you're doing.

"it'll feel so good soon, i promise, baby," he insists, pressing his lips to the spot in between your eyes. "you're takin' me so good, fuck— agh, you're so damn tight, this one's gonna hurt like hell, but you can take it, yeah? my pretty princess, you'll do anythin' i say, won't ya..."

satoru doesn't give you a chance to respond before he says something about this being the last stretch, but his words don't really sink in until he's two more inches deep into you. his last thrust is so sudden and jarring that it makes you cry out his name, over and over and over until the pain evident on your face starts to turn into something that looks a lot like... pleasure?

a self-assured smile grows on satoru's flushed face when he sees the chance, and a thousand more words of praise fall from his lips. your vision's a little fuzzy in the corners, and your mind is all but gone—it's hard to focus on anything but the slowly fading pain.

satoru starts to move his hips back and forth, easing your loosening cunt into him and nodding at the way you slowly start to show signs of wanting more. your eyes brighten up a little and you seem more alert the longer satoru opens you up.

"startin' to feel good now?" he asks, smiling smugly when you nod your head. "yeah, told you so." the prominent blush on his face starts to creep down his neck, and when you reach up and tentatively touch his cheek, that's when he loses it.

it takes every drop of self-restraint in his body to not flip you over, face-down and ass-up and fuck your tight cunt the way he's dreamed about for months. satoru's imagined it for so long that it's practically a reality for him—the way you would whimper his name and claw at the sheets, the way you would cum all over him too many times to count, all of it. he's seen it a thousand times in his head, but having his fantasy so close and yet so far drives him insane.

but as you smile up at him, the almost unnoticeable tremble in your bottom lip assures him that this probably isn't the time. after all, you're not leaving him anytime soon, so he might as well train you first before even attempting any of that on your perfect, untouched body.

"what do i do now?" you ask, and the simplicity of the question is almost childish. especially when satoru almost laughs in response, soft blue eyes glinting with amusement.

"jus' lie there and stay pretty f'me. and keep your legs spread wiiide open," satoru cooes, shaking his hair out of his eyes only for it to fall right back in.

"yeah, you're doin' so good that i don't even buy that you were a virgin—or are you just naturally made for me, huh? maybe that's it, 'cause i swear on my life that i've never fucked a cunt this fuckin' pretty, heh."

#osaemu #gojo smut #jjk smut #satoru gojo smut #gojo satoru smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x you #jjk x you #satoru gojo x you #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #gojo x y/n #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x y/n #satoru gojo x y/n #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo drabbles #jjk drabbles

[sakebytheriver]

...

#looking back at that friendship and its felt like for years now that she would never take responsibility for anything #that i was gonna constantly be the bad guy and constantly have to swallow teeth because speaking up and confronting her was something #she just couldnt handle and she would see it as grounds to end the friendship entirely #and how she would compare me to her abusive ex and say that i triggefed her but then when i ask for more info when i aske her to explain #she breaks down until i just have to capitulate her and apologize without being able to have a conversation about it whatsoever #how she turned the one time i confronted her about how she hurt me into a 'im sorry you feel that way' and then made it about how i hurt her #for even being upset about her actions and that i wasnt happy for her turning it into me apologizing for even speaking up at all #how she held her friendship hostage and made me feel like i had to walk on eggshells and that any errant comment meant shed leave #how it was always about her and how she felt and that ive been feeling for so long now that i cant tell her shit about my feelings #that whenever i was with her i had to be on guard and that anything meant she wouldnt want me around #how i had to validate her every feeling and make her the center of the universe that i could never criticize her or her behavior #because her insecurity and sensitivity was so intense if i didnt constantly make her feel like she was in the right even when she was wrong #it would spell the end of the friendship #and now i said the wrong thing i made her feel bad and triggered her insecurity and her toxic positivity so after 5 years she decides #that shes 'done with second chances' as if i was the only problem in this friendship and she for sure has convinced herself of that #has convinced everyone im this bitch who couldnt help but hurt her when in reality basically anything would hurt her #there were times when i wasnt sufficiently happy enough for her and shed make it into a big thing and make me apologize for not validating #her enough shed make me overly congratulate her and capitulate her feelings while she never once reciprocated the same treatment for my shit #and its like thats not how friendship is supposed to work its not supposed to feel like im one mistake away from being left #its not supposed to feel like i have to give her everything to receive basically nothing in return #its not supposed to feel like im waiting for the moment she tells me she never wants to talk to me again (WITH ONE TEXT TOO AFTER 5 YEARS) #its not supposed to feel like i have to constantly make myself the bad guy and over apologize while she can treat me any way she wants to #without being confronted about it because she 'cant handle confrontation' #like what kind of friendship can even be built when one person has one foot out the door at all times and builds the relationship in such a #way where they can talk to you anyway they see fit and tell you anything they want but you cant talk to them the same way #i look back at so much of what she said to me how one time she said the way i treated her wasnt fair and its like the way she treated me #wasnt fair that after five years of friendship she wasnt a safe place for me at all that i had to be on my toes or else id be left #and now here we are i didnt articulate myself right i made her feel bad i tried to explain and make my point better she didnt want to talk #at all and instead ghosted me for weeks before playing phone tag for a week when all she planned to do was send one text and cut me off #i look back and i really was just fighting to keep her around just to say that someone stayed but she was never one i should have kept