#i love jon's smile he needs to smile more

[gay-dorito-dust]

Jason has cuteness aggression.

Anything that you do is cute as fuck to him and all he wants to do is squeeze the fuck out of you in his strong arms, but has to restrain himself from doing so because he doesn’t want to genuinely hurt you.

He’s just so full of love that he doesn’t know what to do with it other then spend all his time with you doing your own thing, even though everything within him is screaming at him to reach out and squish your cheeks together, all the while smothering your face in a abundance of kisses for doing absolutely nothing because that’s how badly in love he is.

Jason just didn’t want to scare you off in how he loves because it could be quite suffocating or too much, but as long as you communicate to him that his love wasn’t suffocating or too much then expect it to quickly be apart of your daily routine, then again it’s not like you’re complaining because an affectionate Jason is an adorable Jason.

So you’d happily just sit there and allow him to hold your face between his hands and kiss you senselessly for just simply existing.

‘Why. Are. You. So. Fucking. Cute.’ Jason would say between planting kisses on your lips, forehead and nose.

‘I’m not even doing anything other than sit here.’ You chuckled, smiling widely at feeling of his lips against your skin.

‘Not a valid enough response.’ Jason replies as he continues his barrage of affection.

‘But it’s true!’ You exclaimed as Jason enough you into his arms and squeezed you tightly as though you were a plush toy. You cuddled into him and rested your head on his chest, finding this side of Jason to be sweet and beautiful as himself. ‘Then why are you the most precious person in my life Hmmm?’ Jason asked rhetorically, burying his face into your head, tightening his grip on you. ‘Then why is it that I would do anything you’d ask without a second thought?’

‘Because we’re together?’ You said, faking ignorance as you wanted nothing more to hear him say it.

‘It’s because I love you chipmunk.’ Jason murmured as he pressed a lingering kiss to your temple, knowing that even if he did manage to show you all the love he had within him, he’d only find even more love underneath all that to give to you.

[PLATONIC ONLY] Damian Wayne claims that he hates being your friend.

But if that was the case then why is it that he goes out of his way to make sure that you were comfortable and treated with respect when he brings you over to the Wayne Manor; Something he’s never gone out of his way to do for anyone besides maybe Jon Kent, but that’s neither here nor there.

Then why was it that when he first introduce you to Titus as a sign of trust, the Great Dane didn’t waste a second in wanting to get to know you with how often he would impatiently nudge you with his head, whine and howl until you gave him head rubs and or cuddles. Damian on the other hand acted as though he was embarrassed by this, but was secretly happy that you and his dog got along as it meant a lot for Damian if Titus instantaneously likes you, he trusts Titus judgment as he believes that dogs were great judges of characters.

Then why was it that when you showed genuine signs of struggle, he was the first person to notice and help you with whatever you were having troubles with as best he could. Damian knew that he would be considered the last person people who go to for help and for obvious reasons, but when it was you Damian wanted to be your first choice, your first option out of everyone; If you get stuck then you might as well get stuck together, even tough he’s intelligent in his own right, he’s not prone to not knowing the answer to something.

It happens to everyone and you have to remind him in those moments that he’s imperfect human, not a weapon. He needs reminding of that now and then in all honesty.

Damian won’t out right call you his friend but he will show it without even knowing he’s even doing it until someone -maybe one of his brothers, mainly Grayson- points it out to him.

‘Is your friend coming over today?’ Grayson would ask.

‘They’re not my friend.’ Damian answered bitterly.

‘Then why are you clearing a space for them.’ Grayson then points out and that’s when Damian stops to realise what he was doing, scowling as he crossed his arms. ‘Tt. That’s none of your concern Grayson I just like to keep my living spaces clean and easily maintained.’ Graysons smile grew as he leant against the doorframe. ‘Oh really? That’s the only reason you’re doing this?’

‘Yes.’ Damian replied, adamant with his answer.

Grayson shrugs and raises his hands in surrender. ‘Okay, if that’s what going on then I guess I’ll leave you be then.’

‘That would be much appreciated Grayson, I still have much to do before y/n’s arrival-‘ Damian once again stopped upon realising what he was insinuating and looked towards Grayson who looked like the cat who caught the canary. ‘Not a word to anyone.’ Damian threatens as he points a finger at his older brother.

‘I didn’t hear a thing.’ Grayson said but as he walked into the hallway only to scream, ‘DAMIAN IS CLEARING UP HIS ROOM FOR HIS FRIEND! JASON YOU OWE ME MONEY! I WON THE BET!’

In the distance Jason could be heard cursing Dick out for cheating somehow.

Damian gritted his teeth but he knew he can’t hunt Dick down for sport just yet, you were arriving in ten minutes and he still had some work to do until then.

Dick has an obsession with you resting your head on his shoulder or on his back, followed by your arms holding onto his waist for dear life.

He lives for it and gets embarrassingly excited whenever you do it to the point that it’s obvious that he was expecting something every time you came home. Dick just likes the idea that despite how exhausted you might be, you still go out of your way to drag your feet across the room and rest your head on his shoulder as you whispered a greeting into his skin.

He enjoys this so much that if you ever dare to forget to do so, he’ll pout and silently watch you as you moved about the apartment expectantly. If after five minutes you still don’t do the thing then Dick will show you his back and sigh dramatically until you’re forced to take notice.

‘What’s wrong pretty bird?’ You asked wearily.

‘Nothing.’ He replies.

‘Dick you’re huffing and sighing every five seconds, somethings wrong.’ You said, getting up to move towards him before resting your head on his back and throwing your arms over his waist. ‘So tell me what’s wrong so that we can talk about it and get through it together.’ You murmur and you felt Dick relax as he rested his hands over your own.

‘There’s no need to talk about anything because you’re already doing the thing that I’ve been waiting for you to do since you got in.’ Dick answered and you couldn’t help but laugh at this while tightening your hold on his waist. ‘This? Seriously?’ You asked.

‘Yep.’ Confirmed Dick as he moved himself so that he could properly hold you against him. ‘Just this and only this.’ He adds softly and you had no reason to argue with him over something that brought him comfort and reassurance.

‘Okay, I’ll remember to do this a lot more, just for you.’ You promised, kissing his shoulder.

‘I’ll hold you to that promise sweetie.’ Dick says as he rested his head atop of yours, closing his eyes as he basked in your closeness and allowed himself to breathe and be in the moment with you.

Because that’s all he wanted, to live in the moment with you.

#jason todd imagine #jason todd fluff #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagines #jason todd fanfic #jason todd x you #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd fic #dick grayson x y/n #dick grayson x you #dick grayson imagine #dick grayson imagines #dick grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #nightwing x you #nightwing x y/n #damian wayne x y/n #damian wayne x you #damian wayne imagine #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne imagines #damian wayne fluff #dick grayson fluff #dc imagine #dc x reader #dc x you #dc x y/n #dc comics x reader #dc fic #dc fanfic

[bleedingoptimism]

As Steve walks into the grocery store he pulls his sunglasses off, only to put them back on again immediately. The lights of the store make the back of his eyes sting. Hungover from a bad headache, not that people here would care why. Whatever, is not like everyone already doesn’t think he’s an asshole. He doesn’t need to perform for anyone anymore.

A guy, singing to himself down one of the aisles peaks his attention, he’s tall and has long black hair and Steve belatedly remembers that he’s Jon’s friend from California.

“Argyle?” he asks, more to himself than to him, but Argyle turns and smiles at him as if they are old friends. He approaches and grabs his shoulder, shaking him a little.

“Oh! Hi Stevie!” 

The confidence and attitude he carries himself with make Steve smile for some reason. It’s like he’s very sure of himself but in a nice way, not in a douchey way, like his high school buddies were. Although hearing someone call him “Stevie” reminds him of Tommy and a very different time and he can’t help but shrink inwards a little, “Oh no please, just Steve,” he says with an apologetic smile, pulling his sunglasses off again and placing them on his head. And because he doesn’t want Argyle to think he’s the douchebag, he explains further, “‘Stevie’ brings back bad memories,”

Argyle leans his head to the side with a pout but then smiles and squeezes Steve’s shoulder, “Dude, it’s fine, we can just make new ones, man! Better ones.”

Steve’s first reaction is to scoff. As if it were that easy… but then he thinks, hell, maybe it is.  Maybe it is and it makes him smile. Argyle is way too outgoing for it to be comfortable for other people, it’s kind of ridiculous. For a second, he wonders if Jonathan found it jarring when he first met him. But Steve finds it refreshing. He shakes his head and smiles,

“So what were you looking for? Maybe I can help?” he offers.

Argyle turns in a circle, letting go of Steve’s shoulder and opening his arms wide, like he’s presenting the store to Steve, “See man, I'm mentally preparing myself for the munchies. I kind of wanted to make a pizza but like sweet? You get me?”

“Like a pie?” Steve chuckles.

“That! Sounds delicious, dude! But I don’t know how to make a pie,” Argyle laments, and Steve has no idea what possesses him to say,

“I do. You want help?” 

Argyle stills his whole body and then shakes it before he starts snapping his fingers rapidly, startling Steve.

“Ok! Ok ok ok ok ok! Are you busy right now, man?”

“Just need to buy my groceries…” Steve says unable to keep the bewilderment off his expression.

“I’ll help you with that, we’ll buy things for the pie and then you invite me over, how’s that my dude?” Argyle says, no preambles, “I have a doobie and a lot of questions about all the shit that went down” he adds moving his eyebrows up and down quickly.

“What about Jon?” Steve can’t help but ask.

“Ah man, Jonny is with Nancy right now. Those two love birds had a lot to talk about, so I figured I’d make myself scarce.” Argyle answers, nodding apprehensively at his own statement.

Steve finds himself nodding along before saying, “Yeah, okay. Let’s do it!”

“Hell yeah, Stevie!” Argyle exclaims throwing his arms up and this time, Steve doesn’t cringe at the nickname.

After that, Argyle follows Steve through the store, helping him put things in the cart, making a few comments about differences in products or prices from California, but mostly staying out of the way and humming to himself. Steve asks him what he wants the pie to be (strawberries and chocolate) so he gets the ingredients for that too and then they are off.

When they get to his place, Steve tells him to get comfortable while he puts stuff away but Argyle helps him out before sitting on a tall stool in the kitchen and watching as Steve gets all the ingredients for the pie laid out.

“You know dude, you’re kind of exactly how I imagined you’d be,” Argyle tells him, gifting him another one of his smiles. 

“Really?” Steve asks surprised.

“Jon told me all about you, man,” he answers nodding. 

Steve raises an eyebrow at that, “And you still want to hang out with me?” he asks, half judgy, half defensive.

“Of course! Because you know what I got from it, dog?” Argyle asks and Steve just stares at him, afraid to know the answer.

“That you are a good person, Stevie! So you got off to a rocky start dude, so what? I think that makes you all the more interesting.”

Steve purses his lips in an attempt not to smile and raises an eyebrow.

“You went to hell and beyond for someone you didn’t even like! You’ve paid your dues and a half for whatever shit you did when you were younger and it could’ve made you bitter or closed off, man! But it didn’t. Not even the tiniest little bit. You barely know me and you invited me over and offered to bake pie for me, dude!” 

Steve chuckles and shakes his head, “You got all that from what Jon told you? Also you invited yourself over,” he jokes. 

Argyle laughs and then just shrugs, choosing to ignore Steve’s question about Jon.

He lets it go, and Argyle lights up the joint while he starts making the pie. After they both get a few hits, Argyle starts asking him about everything. ‘Start from the beginning’ he says.

Steve starts off a little stiff but gets looser with the weed and Argyle's presence and ends up telling him practically everything. Argyle asks a few questions every once in a while, sometimes about the process of making the pie. Sometimes some really intense shit like ‘and how did that make you feel?’, ‘did you think you were going to die?’ ‘were you scared?’.

Steve answers everything honestly, and it feels incredibly cathartic. His favorite questions are the ones about the pie though, and he smiles the biggest when Argyle says next time he’ll make one for him.

In turn, Steve asks him how he met Jon and chuckles when Argyle confirms his thoughts and tells him Jon didn’t like Argyle one bit at first.

“He said I was too happy. He didn’t trust it. Dude couldn’t trust anyone that hadn’t gone through some kind of shit in their lives” Argyle laughs, “But I can thaw even the coldest of hearts, man! As we got to know each other, he realized that I did have my own shit going on, but that happiness was a choice for me. Is who I had chosen to be.”

They talk about that too, how it wasn’t an easy choice. How some days it’s harder than others, to keep at it. How all the Upside Down shit affected him too.

By the time the pie is done and the joint is gone, Steve feels incredibly close to Argyle. Like they’ve been friends forever. 

“So that’s pretty much it,” he says with a sigh after finishing a rant about why he doesn’t keep in touch with his high school buddies because Argyle had asked about them.

“Dude, you’ve been through so much,” he says solemnly.

“Yeah, you know that’s…. Life…” Steve says, shrugging. He doesn't know exactly what to say, suddenly feeling very awkward at being seen.

“Nah, Stevie. Me being kicked out of my house as soon as I was old enough to get a job ‘cause my parents couldn’t afford to keep feeding me and my younger siblings…. That’s life.” Argyle says seriously and quickly dismisses Steve's worried face adding, “It’s ok dude, they were great parents, they raised me well and I still go visit every other weekend” And then sighs and looks sternly at Steve again,

“Like I said, that’s life. What you’ve been through? Was hell”

“The kids had it worse- Ell-” Steve starts but Argyle interrupts him.

“That doesn’t erase what you've been through, Steve. It doesn’t make it less of a nightmare, man.” Steve just looks at Argyle as what he’s saying sinks in. 

“And you got through it, dude. You came out the other side even a better person than when it started and like- you saved lives! You saved my best friend's life and like- like- you should be proud of yourself Stevie. I’m proud of you, man” he finishes with a carefree smile. As if he hadn’t just rocked the ground Steve was standing on. And he doesn't know if it’s the weed, or Argyle’s words, or both but Steve closes the distance between them and hugs him.

“Oh, hey! Hugs! I love hugs!” Argyle laughs, and hugs him back, taking it all in stride.

“Sorry,” Steve sniffles embarrassed, “I didn’t know I needed to hear that till you said it,” he croaks.

“Nah, it’s good. I got you” Argyle responds, patting his back lightly.

The hug is wonderful, friendly, warm, and just the right length but when he’s stepping away from Argyle, he hears a wary sound from the kitchen door.

“Uhm…hi” 

It’s Eddie. Pocker-faced and cautious and Steve knows him well enough to know he’s freaking out inside.

“Oh, hi! Eddie! Good to see you, dude!” Argyle says good naturally and completely out of the loop. Steve smiles at him too and rubs his eyes with the back of his hand to dry them off a bit.

Whatever Eddie was thinking goes out the window when he looks closely at Steve and walks towards him, leaning closer to look him in the eye, “You okay?” he asks concerned.

Steve nods and Argyle clears his throat, “I’m going to… set the table for three,” he says, so maybe, not as out of the loop as Steve first thought.

Eddie completely ignores Argyle and grabs Steve’s face, his thumb caressing the underside of his eye, “You really ok?” he asks again and Steve chuckles,

“Yeah,” he answers with a smile.

Eddie hums and then looks back towards where Argyle is opening and closing cabinets in the dining room, looking for plates, “So… Should I be jealous?” he asks and Steve snorts amused, 

“Of course not,” he says.

“You sure? ‘Cause maybe your type wasn’t curls and big eyes, maybe it was long hair and weed all along,” Eddie presses and Steve can tell he’s trying to make a joke out of it but is actually asking for real and Steve gets frankly, really annoyed.

“You know what? Maybe you should be jealous. Argy would never accuse me like that,” Inwardly he cringes at the nickname but it gets the point across. Eddie’s face falls and he looks devastated and terrified for a second before Steve smirks bitchily at him and then Eddie is frowning.

“Asshole” he murmurs, despite still holding Steve’s face as if it were precious and fragile.

Steve steps closer, placing his hands on Eddie’s waist, “You started it” he says as an apology. Kind of.

Eddie huffs and moves his hands to Steve shoulder’s, one thumb pressed to his pulse, “I regret it” 

Steve hums, “Just for the record? A little possessiveness is kind of hot,” he says and pecks the tip of Eddie’s nose, “You questioning my feelings for you? Is not.” and then flicks it.

“Dully noted,” Eddie nods.

Steve looks him in the eye as he leans closer, kisses him fully in the mouth firmly, eyes open the whole time, and then whispers “Good boy,” before he steps away.

He smirks again seeing the full-body effect his little stunt has on Eddie. The way his eyelids fall, his mouth opens, the goosebumps on his arm hair, and the shiver that runs through his spine. He takes a moment to take it all in before he smiles, less predatory and more friendly. Eddie smiles back, and shakes his head amused, like he can't believe Steve is real. He does that a lot.

Steve then takes Eddie’s hand on his own and kisses his knuckles before moving past him and dragging him to the dining room with him, 

“Now c’mon. Let’s go eat pie with my new friend”

e͟n͟d͟

a coffee? a doobie? ☕🥐💕

#stranger things #argyle #steve #friendship #and a little #steddie #on the side #because i cant help myself #i wrote something

[celaenaeiln]

Dick Grayson's talent for manipulation literally brings the world to its knees.

Part 1 post

My absolute favorite trait about Dick aside from his craziness is his ability to control every single person in existence. The best part is, he's so clever in the way that he does it that people almost never notice.

Bart Allen

"Oh! Ahh..you're trying to get my DNA sample. You need my spit! Ha! That's such a Dick Grayson thing to do."

Bart knows!! Dick's brilliantly sly okay. Honey catches more flies that vinegar? He takes it so far that breaks he the ceiling with it because by the time he's done, people don't even know they've been manipulated. And if they do, then what can they do about it? He always wins.

With friends and family he does it to make them feel better without being so overt and discomforting them.

Justice League: Road to Dark Crisis

Jon came to him when he was feeling lost and upset and Dick set up the perfect conditions to encourage him and pick him up. He's just so good at doing what he's doing but he does it for all the right reasons.

But the extent Dick can go trick and manipulate someone is off the charts. A virtuoso.

In a Titans comic, Dick literally spent MONTHS acting depressed and weak after Donna, Wally, and Garth were kidnapped to another dimension by a villain just so he could trick the villain into thinking that his career was over and bring him into the same dimension so Dick could take him down.

He fooled everyone.

Teen Titans: The Silver Age TBP 2 Part #1

"Batman taught me how to be a totally convincing actor! So if the only way you could send me here with your ring was if I filled my brain with evil thoughts, I just faked it! My facial expression was pure evil-but my mind remained pure good." MONTHS.

He planned, pretended, and calculated every single fiber of his own mind and body until the whole world was fooled by his acting. He tricked an interdimensional being who had psychic access. That means he was so extraordinarily manipulative, he can control his own thoughts inside his head to trick someone else. Voldemort's legilimens has nothing on Dick's talent.

Like Bart, sometimes his allies are aware of this like with Selina-

Gotham City Sirens Issue #23

Selina's literally having a mental breakdown trying not to fall for Dick's manipulation and tricks.

But even if they know he's manipulating them, they still are forced to fall for it anyway.

Gotham City Sirens Issue #23

"Damn it."

Like a goldilocks mad scientist - he does it just right.

His acting is just so on point that he outschemes the schemer.

When the Crime Syndicate (Superwoman, Ultraman, Owlman, Power ring, etc) arrive on Earth to take it over when Dick is Batman, Dick needs to do something fast. But to make things worse, there's a being that's so powerful, that both the Crime Syndicate and Justice League combined have a snowball's chance in hell of defeating him.

So what does Dick do? He runs the game.

Justice League of America (2006) Issue #52

Justice League of America (2006) Issue #52

"Of course he had a plan the whole time. He's Batman. He always has a plan."

Justice League of America (2006) Issue #52

He tricks everyone.

Justice League of America (2006) Issue #52

And in the end, the Justice League wins and Dick saves the world.

Justice League of America (2006) Issue #52

I love how they characterized Owlman as a snake because that would make Dick a mongoose since mongoose eats snakes. And do you know what Mongoose represent in folklore? Action, adventure, boldness, fearlessness, impulsiveness, independence, optimism, rebellion, resistance, resourcefulness, speed, adaptation, agility, quickness, intelligence and wit. All characteristics that define him.

He plays the world like a chessboard, always five steps ahead.

He always has an ace hidden up his sleeve.

His thoughts are always masked behind a disarming smile.

He has mastered the art of manipulation.

And that's while he's outright fighting. His subtlety is just so seductive.

Take a look at the way he smoothly evades answering in this panel -

Grayson Issue #9

He's so smooth. She's constantly on the watch but she instantly fell head over heels for his charms in a half a heartbeat, that's just how good he is.

Grayson Issue #10

He's a master manipulator who knows exactly what to say and how to act to always end up winning.

It's seriously such a shame that one of his greatest skills and talents isn't talked about more because this man?! Flawless.

He's the spy everyone on TV wishes they could be. He's the type of spy people read about in history books and marvel at the ease, grace, and legendary story he leaves behind. He's the spy that everyone knows and dreams of in their fantasies.

Nightwing (2016)

And oh how they so are.

He can just get people to do whatever he wants.

There's a reason why Batman's only contingency plan against Nightwing is "Let's hope he fucks up." Because with his intelligence, skill, power, charisma, and raw talent - he's goddamn unstoppable.

#manipulative dick grayson #dick's honest to god terrifying for what he can do #so thankful he's on the good side because the world doesn't stand a chance with him on the bad #dick grayson #nightwing #bart allen #dc impulse #jon kent #super boy #selina kyle #catwoman #dc titans #owlman #robin dick grayson #crime syndicate #justice league #spyral #batman dick grayson

[glitterquadricorn]

spilled tea and hot gossip - f1 grid

+summary: there's nothing she loves more than spilled tea and hot gossip. +pairing: f1 grid x female!driver +warnings: cheating, mentions pregnancy, gossip.

a/n: this is just an idea that popped into my head.

I do not give my permission to have my work reposted. I do not give my permission to have my work translated. If I'm notified that you've stolen my work or claim it as your own, you'll be asked to take it down before I'll report you. End of discussion.

Any drama, gossip, or tea that is spilled on a formula one paddock, you best believe she's going to know about it because she's got eyes and ears everywhere. Like for example, the whole situation with Oscar, Daniel and Mclaren. Or how Fernando signed with Aston Martin and didn't tell anyone much less Alpine. Pierre wonders where, or who she's getting this information from, but she'd never reveal her source for they wish to remain anonymous.

"Thanks so much for helping, y/n. You've made our job a lot easier," Jon, a member of her pit crew, smiled and tapped her shoulder.

"I'm always happy to help!" she said. " Do you guys need anything else? If not, I'm going to head out."

"We should be all good to go. Again, thanks for the help."

"You guys have a good day!" she left out the back of the garage and walked down a relatively empty paddock with the exception of other teams' staff here and there.

She was almost at the entrance when from the corner of her eye; she spotted a man wearing a black and red Haas shirt. Whoever he was talking to she didn't know, and it wasn't her business. But what he told to said person on the phone shocked her.

"I messed up, man. I shouldn't have even slept with her," the man paused, running his hand down his face. "Oh, the girlfriend of a mechanic over at Alpha Tauri. But that's not even the worst part of it. She's pregnant and doesn't know who the father is."

The sound that came out of her mouth wasn't human, and she quickly had to pretend she saw something shocking on her phone because the man looked in her direction. Man, she couldn't wait to tell the boys.

The following day after scanning her id, she strutted down the paddock like a woman on a mission.

Spotting the dutchman, who conveniently was standing with Daniel, Charles and Pierre outside the redbull garage, she excitedly walked right over. "You'll never guess what I heard yesterday."

"Judging by your excitement, I assume it's something juicy." Pierre replied. Just by the excitement alone, he knew that whatever she was about to say was going to be good.

"Yesterday, I stayed back after qualifying to help my pit crew clean up and put things away. When I was done, I left and walked down a relatively empty paddock, but stopped when I overheard somebody from Haas talking on the phone. I don't know who he was talking to, because it's not relevant, but what is, is what he told them."

"Get to the point, y/n."

"I was getting there, Max," she paused. "He told them he slept with a girlfriend of a mechanic over at Alpha Tauri. That alone is pretty juicy, but what he followed it up with had my jaw on the floor. And he followed it up with and she's pregnant and doesn't know who the father is."

Gasps leave their mouth as their jaws drop just like hers did from the day before. Behind Charles, her pr manager, Tracy, waved her over.

"Enjoy the tea, boys." she smirked, patted Charles on the shoulder as she walked away.

---

I know Visa Cash App RB team name isn't Alpha Tauri anymore, but I hate the name Visa Cash App RB with a passion.

tagging:

@letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @patzammit @tinycyber @keenmarvellover @mrspeacem1nusone @lendeluxe @alexxavicry @allenajade-ite @catswag22 @eugene-emt-roe @wcnorris @bibissparkles @cherry-piee @khaylin27 @evie-119

#formula one x driver!reader #formula one x reader #formula 1 x reader #formula one imagine #formula one x you #formula 1 x y/n #f1 x reader #f1 x female reader

[wispyfacedjoel]

laundry (joel miller x f!reader)

summery - you have a favour to ask joel...in the laundry. warnings/tags - loss of virginity/innocence, implied age difference, unprotected PIV, soft!joel, fingering, oral (f receiving), bit of crying, lots of licking, thumb sucking, biting, dad joel mentioned. i think that's all, if i missed anything let me know. word count - 2.5k note - watched sharp stick with jon bernthal and got inspired to do it with joel cause i needed to do it for my own sanity. sorry not sorry tbh.

You peeked into the laundry, basket in hand filled children's toys, seeing him standing there, mumbling the tune to some song that was released before you were even born.

He was bouncing his head slightly to the tune flowing from his lips, soft, curly brown locks tossing with his movements. Your eyes raked down his covered length, baggy grey sweatshirt, and black basketball shorts.

You wish they were shorter, the meat of his thighs always making your face feel warm.

You had just put his son down to sleep, assuring yourself that he would hopefully sleep for a full hour before he came bounding down the stairs, demanding someone play trucks with him.

You didn’t mind babysitting though, he was a lovely little boy.

You announced yourself by coming in to place the basket of toys onto the dryer beside the washer he was using.

He jumped softly at the sound of your entrance, saying your name in surprised. You smiled at him, unable to stop the grin from forming on your face whenever you had his attention.

Those big, expressive, brown eyes dancing over the expansion of your face, occasionally flickering down to your lips if you were speaking.

"Hi." You mumbled shyly, ringing your hands together behind your back.

Joel smiled warmly. "Hey there, darlin'" he chuckled softly at your nervous demeanour. "Everythin' alright?" his southern drawl combined with the caring caress of his words made the heat pool between your legs.

You swallowed, eyes flickering around the room before finally landing on his again. "I have something to ask." You mumbled, hands squeezing together behind your back.

His expression grew serious, he stepped slightly closer, bringing his long, thick arm out to shut the laundry door. "What is it?" he pressed, eyebrows furrowing down together.

You took a deep breath, recalling the words your mother and sister spoke about the night before. "Do you think I'm beautiful?" the words left your lips in a breathless manner, heart rate skyrocketing as you stared into his eyes.

His eyes ever so sneakily, flitted down toward your bottom lip before returning to your eyes. He blinked a few times, confusion morphing onto his face as he stared at you. "Huh?"

You were already going to pull your long skirt up, "Woah, woah-" Joel's hands shot out, grasping the light green fabric on your skirt. He said your name again, more slowly, "...you really don't mean to do that," He shook his head, eyes flickering down once more to the edges of your skirt he held tightly within his calloused grip. "I'm sorry if I...uh...have you t-the-the wrong impression, or something, but listen-"

You interrupted him, "So, you...you d-don't think I'm beautiful?" you asked, voice lowering as your hands trembled against the fabric of your skirt, heart violently beating against your rib cage.

He shook his head slowly as if he were trying to comprehend your words while his hands removed themselves off your skirt. He stumbled over his words for a moment, "No, I just...I haven't - no, you are! Yeah," he let out a breathy chuckled, falling back against the white wall behind him and a small smile finding its way onto his plush lips. "'Course you are."

"I'm still a virgin, you know." You interrupted once more, your own smiling tickling the corners of your mouth at his confession.

"Shut the fuck up," Joel said in disbelief, lowering his head toward you slightly. "Really...wow. Huh," he chuckled once more, a warmth filled your chest at his disbelief. "That's crazy...I-I just didn't," he shook his head. "Really? I mean that's great! Good for you, that's somethin' you should protect and-"

You lowered your gaze to the ground, "No," you shook your head, his words stopping. "I don't wanna be a virgin." Your eyes lifted back to his.

"Why?" Joel asked.

"Because, I'm twenty-six," you replied, as if it were obvious to why you were asking him this.

He shook his head, his hand coming to scratch at the greying scruff surrounding his jaw. You took in the way his neatly cut fingernails dragged through the course hairs, darker hairs on his fingers just below the knuckle standing out against his tanned skin.

He shook his head once more, but before he could mumble another word, you spoke again. "And I like you." You mumbled, doe-eyes peering up into his through your lashes.

"M-Me?" he asked, somewhat confused.

You nodded quickly, "You're very kind to me whenever I come here to help out, you're sensitive. And masculine-"

"Alright, alright," He cut you off this time, hand coming up to his mouth as he looked down toward where your skirt was raised just enough to he could catch the slightest glimpse of your blue cotton underwear.

You stared at him for a moment, waiting for him to fill the silence. He kept those brown eyes off your face, staring down at the dryer that your knee was resting against. "I gotta tell you somethin'...I'm-I-I'm-I'm older than you and I know a few things...I promise you, you do not wanna lose your virginity...to me."

You shook your head, smiling softly but Joel continued. "I'm not just sayin' this," he held his hands out, eyes coming back to yours as he noticed your reaction. "I'm like...old..and grizzled. And my b-body is like...just trust me. Please? You don't want this." He argued back, shaking his head down, brown flocks flopping delicately against the skin of his forehead.

You took a deep breath, "I want this," You confirmed, fingers beginning to pull your skirt up again. His eyes fell down toward the space between your legs. "I...I just n-need you to...to please do this one-one favour for me. Please," You begged softly, knees shaking under his heated gaze. He got close, head an inch away from yours. "If you think I'm beautiful."

Your skin erupted in goosebumps at his proximity and you were sure you looked absolutely desperate. He took a breath, it wafted into your face and you got a hint of mint with it.

He stared into your eyes while nodding, "I do," he swallowed. "I do...think you're beautiful." He leaned closer again, pulling back ever so slightly. "C-Can I kiss you?"

You nodded, a grin taking over your mouth. "Yeah."

He let out a breath, head falling to the other side. "Okay," he smiled softly, eyes on your lips. "I'm gonna." You nodded once more, his index finger brushing softly against your cheek before gripping your chin with his index finger and thumb.

He then moved his hand to cup your cheek, "Oh fuck." He muttered before pushing forward and delicately pressing his lips onto yours.

Your eyes shut immediately, a soft whimper coming from your throat at the feeling of his soft lips melding with yours.

He pulled back softly, tongue darting out to swipe the inside of your upper lip, not once, but twice. His nose brushed against yours as he continued to push forward slightly, but then backward again - yours breathes mingling in the tight space between you.

When his mouth fell back onto yours, he repeated the same thing - allowed you to taste his lips before pulling back to lick the inside of your upper lip, not once, but twice.

Your lips fell onto his hooked nose for a moment and then his head was falling into your neck. Gripping the one side before harshly biting down on the other.

You gasped out, coming to grasp at the base of his head were the curls were most defined. You felt his teeth scrape against the vein that was evident poking out through your skin.

"Can I go down on you?" he whispered into your ear, tongue darting out to lick at your earlobe.

You nodded, eyes tightly shut. "Yes." You said, breathlessly even if you didn’t really know what that meant.

His body lowered down onto his knees with a soft groan and his head go under the fabric of your skirt.

He kissed it first through the material of your panties, feeling his lips against the covered expansion of your mound before he was moving the fabric out of the way to kitten lick at your seam.

His nose was buried against your clit, your vision whiting out when his tongue moved up to flick back and forth against the bundle of nerves.

You moaned, hands coming down under your skirt to grasp at his greying locks and tugging. The tug made him groan, the sound vibrating throughout your body.

His tongue moved back to your hole, gently prodding around before the thick muscle pushed its way inside. You gasped, eyes rolling back into your head as his assault on your pussy made your legs shake.

He then brought his thick fingers up, his head coming above your skirt to ask, "Can I put my fingers inside you?" his jaw and mouth covered with wetness.

Your mouth was dropped open at the sight, feeling another syrupy drop of arousal leave your hole and roll down his fingers. "Yes." You eagerly nodded, watching him smirk before diving back under your skirt.

His fingers prodded around your hole, tongue swiping gently across your clit. The initial intrusion caused you to lift up onto your tiptoes before lowering back down when the burn subsides as two of his thick digits moved in and out.

He curled them slightly, while absolutely sucking on your clit while hitting something deep within in you that had your knees buckling. His free arm held up while you felt yourself get closer, and closer to your release.

"Joel." You whimpered, eyes furrowing shut.

His lips left your clit, "That's it darlin'...all over my fingers...into my mouth. I wanna feel it." His low voice made your knees quiver once more and was the reason the thread snapped inside of you and you began gushing around his fingers.

"Good girl," He purred softly, removing his fingers and bringing them up to his lips. "Taste so fuckin' sweet." He praised, kissing your thigh once before letting his hands trail up your body to grope your breasts.

You smiled down at him. "Can we do the...the sex now?" you whispered breathlessly, watching how he chuckled softly, eyes crinkling around the corners.

"Yeah darlin'...yeah we can do the sex now," he nodded standing up once more, you listened as his knees cracked with the pressure finally off them. "Come...lie down here...let me get you something for your head."

He laid you gently down on the floor, placing a towel under your head before coming to hover above you - elbows on either side of your head.

"Just gonna take these off," he whispered, fingers moving under your skirt again to pull your panties down your smooth legs. You nodded, assisting him by bending your knees until they were off. "Alright...now you gotta promise me darlin' that if anythin' hurts or feels uncomfortable...you promise to tell me, alright?" he said, eyes serious as they intently looked down into yours.

You nodded, smile present on your lips as his caring nature. "Alright."

Joel smiled, his one hand coming to brush against your cheek. "Alright, ready?" you nodded and watched him reach down, pulling his basketball shorts down just so that his cock would be out.

You felt the fat head prod around at your hole and you inhaled a breath. His eyes locked back onto yours, "S'alright," he reassured with a nod, gently pushing the head into your hole. You felt the burn, the stretch, the ache, your mouth dropped open in a silent scream, "Shh, shh," Joel cooed softly, whimpering above you as his elbow began shaking. "Feel okay? Nothin' hurt?" he asked, a pained expression on his face.

You shook your head, feeling him bottom out. A whiny moan left your lips and Joel's hands were back cradling your cheeks. He began to slowly move, "Jesus, fuck." Joel groaned, head lowering down toward your head.

Your arms wrapped around his neck, feeling his shoulders move as he tried to keep himself steady above you. His whimpering and groaning beside your ear causing you to clench around him.

He hissed, "Fuck, darlin', try-try not do that." He whispered softly, pressing a kiss to your temple as his cock knocked against that one spot, over and over.

You nodded your head, your skin brushing against his curly head of hair. "Okay." You moaned, eyes rolling into your head.

His head came back up to stare into your eyes, his pupils blown wide, barely any of that warm brown color left. "Shh, darlin', you can't be loud," he shook his head, bringing his thumb up to your lips. "Open."

Your mouth opened and he stuck his thumb inside. You began to suck on it, feeling your eyes water from his cock pressing deep within you, feeling it in your stomach.

The heavy weight of his thumb was welcomed against your tongue, a source grounding as you felt your hips begin to rise as your orgasm neared. "Fuck, shit, fuck, you're so fuckin' tight." He moaned out again, dropping his forehead onto yours.

You felt the sweat against his hairline press onto yours, you moaned around his thumb, tongue swiping over the top of it. "You're so fuckin' close, aren't you? Can feel this tight fuckin' cunt squeeze my fuckin' cock, darlin'." Joel panted, words filled with filth.

You nodded your head, tears falling from the corners of your mouth as the sounds filling the laundry were obscene. The lewd suck of your pussy, his heavy breaths and your whimpers.

He removed his thumb from your mouth to circle your clit. "Give it to me." He growled, pressing down on the nub and causing your eyes to cross.

Your mouth fell open, a feeling of euphoria washing over you as you felt your pussy violently throb and clench around his length. Your arousal gushed out from you once more, dripping down his basketball shorts.

"Where do you want me to come, darlin'?" he asked, thrusts becoming sloppy.

You licked your lips, eyes rolling from still feeling him pound that one spot. "Inside." You whispered.

"Fuck, are you sure?"

You nodded, grasping his jaw. "Yes. Please. Inside. My mother has a collection of…plan b pills in her medicine cabinet."

Joel's eyes rolled back into his head, "Fuck, shitshitshitshit," he chanted, his head falling down by your ear as his thrusts became slow rolls of his hips. "I'm comin'."

You then felt it, the first spurt, burning your insides. He was painting you with himself, leaving his imprint inside of you just like the throbbing bite against your neck.

He continued to whimper softly and rock his hips before it became too much and he stilled inside of you.

The warmth you felt was unlike anything you had ever felt before, you wrapped your legs around his waist, not wanting this feeling to disappear.

"Thank you." You whimpered.

Joel brought his head back up to look at you, his mouth slightly agape and eyebrows furrowed. "Why you thankin' me?" he chuckled softly, sweating dripping down his forehead.

You shrugged, wanting to lick into his opened mouth. "You did me a favour."

Joel smiled, a wide grin. "Sure darlin'...whenever you need another favour...come by my office and bother me." He pressed his lips delicately onto yours before he was pulling out of you with a hiss.

As he helped clean you up and drag your underwear up your legs, you were sure that anytime you needed anything - you were going straight to Joel.

#joel miller #smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut

[toast-on-dandelioms]

Hello, I really a fans of your work and always waiting for the updates. I have a question, what happen if Y/n just ignore the batfam as Y/n also turn to superfam becoming their family. It also assuming Alfred A-Okay with it. Oh, also Y/n might be have relationship with one of the superboys and she love to cuddle with the lover. Well, that's just my wild imagination thinking about.

Oh well, I hope you have great days.❤️😘

Thank you for liking my work! If you're asking for part 4, it will come out soon and probably by the end of next week!

Well, I don't think Alfred would be totally a-okay with this and after a bit he would act to 'fix' the situation.

He wants you to stay at the Manor and be appreciated too by the Batfam even though they don't even know you exist.

He has tried before, talking about you to Bruce and the others but they always dismissed him with the excuse of being busy or forgetting about you the next day.

And seeing you giving up on being with your real family and finding love in another family that actually accepts you and he can't accept that.

You're supposed to be with him as the rest of the Waynes not with some alien family.

He would act like he supports you whenever you come to visit him since you mostly live with the Kents nowadays and come to the Manor to grab the things you needed since you were moving your stuff from the Manor to the Kents house.

After a while you start to come home, to come back to him even less before you just visit him maybe once a month before it turns into no more visiting him since you're busy with school, dance classes and the vigilante role you still have.

And Alfred hates it so he decides that he can't stand to watch his boys obsess over your vigilante persona when they can't even bother to notice you weren't living in the Manor anymore.

So he decides to call a family meeting without your knowledge and explains everything, who you were behind the mask and how dissapointed and ashamed that the people he raised didn't even acknowledge that you existed.

Their reaction, which were mostly of confusion before realisation bothered him but he stayed silent and used their reaction to manipulate them, make them think you weren't in the right place with the Kent family.

And after a week from that meeting, you started to receive texts from all the batfam and also kept seeing them everywhere, with Bruce at school or when you were patrolling the city.

He would always try to talk to you, which you ignored or gave him the finger while swinging away, preferring to not engage in his tries to connect with you.

Plus he would show up at your dance recitals when you never said anything to Alfred about them and he would always be right in first row with a smug smile since he knew you couldn't do anything.

Plus you already knew they knew who you were behind the mask, they said your name when you had your mask on so many times you wanted to punch their faces.

You had to skip a few days of school because Tim and Damian started to show up at your same highschool and sitting next to you in class, to which no one would say anything and it frustrated you since highschool was one of your safe places but not anymore.

You tried to ignore Dick and Jason's attempts at stalking you, not because it was noticeable since you never saw them but the spider sense made you aware you were being watched and after a bit you were able to notice them following you.

Yes you did feel proud since you didn't have any detective training like the others but still knew who was following just by using the things around you.

You vented your frustrations with Clark and Conner and they did help by letting you skip school and everything but you had to go back to school or it would affect your attendance and damage your reputation and curriculum for future colleges applications.

But one fateful day, you went to a mission with Conner and Clark since they needed a third person but couldn't bring Jon since he was busy with school, so you went in his place.

During the mission you got ambushed, Conner and Clark were at disadvantage since the attackers (not sure on the term, the people that attacks) somehow had kryptonite weapons.

Plus you were also fighting, using the tasers and also the objects around you like rocks or trees.

Yes, you did throw a tree at a group of them and you also got Clark telling you not to do it again. Did you listen though? No.

As you were fighting you suddenly got stung by something in the leg, and when you touched the spot where it hurt you saw a small dart there.

You opened your mouth to call for Clark or Conner but someone covered your mouth and held you as you fainted while Clark and Conner had to flee since the attackers were too strong with the kryptonite.

The last thing you saw was the smiling face of Dick before completely giving in the drug you got injected in your body, not hearing them fight about who was gonna carry you in the batmobile.

#dc #platonic yandere #male yandere #yandere batman #yandere #yandere dc x reader #yandere dc #batman #yandere batfam x reader #yandere batfam #yandere batfamily #yandere batboys #yandere alfred pennyworth #yandere bruce wayne #bruce wayne #do not ask me what time it is #I am finally done with this ask (I did love it)

[slut4thebroken]

Dangerous Game

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Judge Jonathan Crane x wife!reader

Summary | You remind your husband who he belongs to.

Warnings | Smut, 18+, sexual content, murder?, crazy in love, emphasis on crazy, breeding kink, overstimulation, praise, possessiveness, like a lot of it, they’re kinda cute tbh, feral animalistic carnal primal frenzied fucking lol.

Words | 3k

Notes | Thank you @pinguwrites for making this c.ai bot 🙏🏻

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

“So what will it be?” Jon asked the cowering man in front of him. “Death? Or exile.” He pulled you closer to him as he spoke and you leaned into his ear with a smirk. 

“Exile.” You whispered.

“Darling… don’t you think we should pick death here?” He whispered back, leaning down to place a soft kiss on your neck. 

“I guess you’re right.” You sighed. Raising your voice a little louder, you said, “Death, then… By exile.” You had a cruel smirk on your face and your husband couldn’t help but mirror it.

“You heard her.” He called out to the man. “Death by exile.” He raised the gavel and brought it down on the desk loudly. You ignored the man’s screaming and protests as he was dragged away, then it was just the two of you in the courtroom. Jon leaned down into your neck to trail more kisses across it and you let out a pleased sigh. 

“Shall we go home, Mrs. Crane?” He whispered softly, pulling back and giving you the smile that always fills your stomach with butterflies. He leaned down to kiss you, but the moment was ruined by a small cough. He huffed as he turned to see a pretty, young woman standing shyly by the doors of the courtroom, looking so terribly lost and afraid. But his annoyance was quickly replaced by fascination and intrigue.  

As you watched your husband's reaction, you immediately got hit with a wave of angry jealousy. He picked up on your emotions, but it almost excited him. He wondered what you’d do… How the night might end because of it. 

Jon looked at the young woman in front of him with an interested glance. Wanting to make her feel welcome in his presence, he raised his hand to get the woman’s attention, motioning for her to come closer.

“Hello, there!” He said in a friendly voice. “What brings you to see the judge?” You scowled at his tone, but waited before doing anything rash. He gave the young woman a smile as she inched closer. You didn’t like how he was talking to her; so gentle and inviting… And the smile on his face made your blood boil. 

“I… I have a request for the judge.” The woman said, looking at him nervously. Jon waited a few seconds, taking in her appearance. When he finally responded, his voice was filled with a kindness that was rare for him, especially in his role as judge.

“Please… don’t hesitate to make your request.” He said softly. “You can trust me to do what is right.” It almost seemed like he was asking you to do something— like he was challenging you. Rationally, you knew he wasn’t. But he was playing a dangerous game with this. 

“Uhm… I know this is really odd to ask,” she said with embarrassment, “but… do you think I could be exiled from Gotham?” Jonathan looked down at her in shock, his face twisting with confusion as he processed her request.

“Exiled?” He asked, brows scrunched together. The girl nodded her head quickly.

“You can exile me from this place. Forever…” She begged, almost in tears. “Please.” You perked up at the request, but Jon responded before you could say anything. 

“Why would you want that?” He asked teasingly.

“I just… I feel like I really need to get out of this place, and I thought that might be a good option…” She said, another wave of embarrassment washing over her. At least she was too stupid for your husband. You almost couldn’t believe that she genuinely thought being exiled meant to leave safely. You stood up suddenly, making Jon stiffen as he wondered what you were about to do.

“You want to leave Gotham? You want to be free of this place forever?” You asked, taking your time as you approached.

“Yes, please.” She answered quietly. Jon looked between both of you as you began to circle the girl slowly, like a predator stalking its prey.

“This isn’t necessary, darling.” He said calmly. “I don’t think exile is a suitable punishment. She should be able to leave freely.” He added. The woman looked up at him with pure awe as he spoke, wondering how the villain could be so kind.

“Oh no were not punishing her, Jon. She deserves a chance to escape, a chance to leave here and never come back.” His eyes narrowed, trying to figure out where you were going with this. Finally landing in front of the young woman, you spoke to her again. “Do you want that chance?” You asked softly.

“Yes, please!” She said quickly. Jon eyed you with apprehension, wondering what you meant. It sounded like you had something planned, he just didn’t know what. 

“Okay.” You said tenderly as you brought both of your hands up to cup the girl's cheeks. “We’ll help you. You can leave this place and never return.” You said with a warm smile.

“Thank you! Oh thank you.” She cried, tears brimming in her eyes.

“Don’t thank me. This is all because of him.” You smirked, glancing over your shoulder at Jon.

Before either of them had a chance to respond, you were tightening your grip on the girl’s head, then quickly forcing it to the side. There was a loud, deafening cracking sound, then she dropped to the floor at your feet. Jon stared down at the lifeless body in shock for a moment, but his expression quickly darkened as he looked at you, then made his way over. 

“What did you do?” He hissed, glancing at the dead body on the floor before looking at you again, waiting for an answer.

“You’re mine, Jonathan Crane. Don’t forget that.” You warned. He narrowed his eyes at you for a moment, then a dangerous smile creeped up on his face when he remembered who he was talking to; Mrs. Crane.

“Yes, I’m yours.” He whispered, then wrapped a hand around the back of your neck and pulled you into a kiss. You moaned in surprise, but quickly brought your hands up to his hair, pulling roughly as if you were still punishing him. He groaned against your lips and snaked the hand on the back of your neck up to your hair, pulling just as hard as you had. As the desire grew, so did the passion and hunger. The kiss turned almost violent and within seconds you had him on the floor underneath you. 

You quickly pulled away from the kiss to rip your shirt off, then leaned back down and immediately continued. Jon’s hands roamed your body, sliding up from your hips to your waist and groping you wherever he could reach. With a grunt of effort, he rolled both of you over so he was on top and tore off his coat and tie as you started working on unbuttoning his shirt. After only a few seconds, you got too impatient and ripped it open, then pushed it down his shoulders to get it off of him. 

You removed his glasses, tossing them onto the growing pile of clothes, and he quickly ripped your bra off your body before leaning back down to continue the kiss. Your nails dragged over his back, making him groan, and he used one hand to pinch and pull at your nipple while the other wrapped around your neck, squeezing tightly. You locked your legs around his hips and pulled him closer, silently telling him to start giving both of you a small taste of what’s to come. He obeyed eagerly and started rutting against you, dragging his clothed cock over your clothed heat until your hips started rocking up to meet him. 

You can’t even remember the last time you’ve had sex like this— so… animalistic. He humped you desperately, not even faltering when you reached your hands down between your bodies to unbuckle his belt and open his pants. Once that was done, you unbuttoned your own pants and started shoving them down. Even though he seemed to want to keep this up, he clearly wanted to fuck you more because he pulled back, grunting with displeasure, to let you push your pants and underwear down as he took off your shoes. He quickly freed his already hard cock and only stroked it twice before lining up. 

“Say it again.” He gruffed, teasing your entrance. “Say I’m yours.” 

“You’re mine, Jonathan.” You growled and he immediately pushed in. He leaned back over you, muffling your moan with a kiss. You obviously weren’t prepped enough to take his cock yet, but the faint burning sensation was almost fitting for the kind of sex you were having. He pushed all the way in, then stopped as he moved down to your neck to kiss and bite the sensitive skin. Your hands carded through his hair before gripping tightly and bucking your hips up with a whine. “Fuck me.” You said it like a demand, but both of you knew it was a plea. He didn’t bother arguing though. 

He slowly pulled back, then snapped his hips forward roughly, making you jolt as a startled moan escaped you. Moving one of your hands to his shoulders, you dragged your nails down his back and arched up into him, whimpering as he maintained the slow, but hard thrusts. He hissed in pain from your sharp nails, but bit down on your neck in retaliation, making you cry out. Deciding to speed up, his pace turned almost brutal, but you loved every second of it as he took you on the floor of his courtroom, inches away from the dead body. 

“Fuck— Jon…” You moaned, making him pull back to look at you. The moment he saw how fucked out you already were, his expression darkened. His pace became more aggressive and rapid until you were mewling, clawing at his back as your lips parted in a silent moan and your brows stayed scrunched together, barely able to handle the intensity of the pleasure. 

“God— I love you.” Despite his almost violent movements, his eyes were full of love and his voice was tender. He leaned down to kiss you again and you moaned loudly in response to his words. 

With the way he was leaned over you like this, pressed so close, you felt trapped. There was nowhere for you to go— you would be forced to take his cock whether you wanted to or not. The thought had you whining and squirming, so you used your grip on his hair to pull him away from the kiss. 

“Make me come.” You whispered, staring up at him with half lidded eyes. He cursed under his breath and gave you a small smirk before snaking a hand down to rub your clit. You were trembling now, arching up into him and holding him against your body. He knew you were close so he started fucking you harder and faster, ignoring his own orgasm that was steadily building. 

“You take my cock so fucking good.” He whispered, making you whine. “Perfect fucking pussy and all mine.” He growled against your neck, breathing raggedly. “And I’m all yours, right, Mrs. Crane?” He said teasingly, but you mewled in response regardless. 

“Mine.” You moaned, tilting your head back as your eyes fluttered shut. He started kissing across your neck, sometimes biting, sometimes sucking to leave a mark. “Mine… You’re mine.” You said firmly, feeling him smile against your neck. 

“All yours, baby.” He whispered, moving up to kiss you again. You could feel yourself getting closer, especially when he bit your lip, then licked into your mouth, claiming every part of your body as his own. “Are you gonna come for me, darling?” He asked quietly, almost pleading with you to do so. You gave an eager nod, deepening the kiss again and keening desperately. 

Your sounds got louder and louder, your body squirming from the unrelenting pleasure until finally it all snapped. You cried out and clung to his shoulders, keeping him close as he worked you through it. He moaned into the kiss at the feeling of your walls convulsing around his cock. 

“Good fucking girl.” He groaned, when you finally sagged into the floor of his courtroom, boneless and completely come drunk. He moved his hand up from your clit to wrap around your neck as his thrusts sped up even more, making you whine in discomfort. 

“J-Jon…” you whimpered, eyes welling with tears, “s’too much.” He growled at your weak protests, tightening his grip on your neck. 

“I’m not going to stop.” He almost laughed at the idea. “This cunt is mine and I’m going to use it until I'm satisfied.” You mewled at the possessiveness in his voice, but it quickly turned into a pained moan, the longer he kept using your sensitive body. Despite the overstimulation, you could feel the embers of arousal in your stomach coming back to life. You loved that he was desperate enough to keep fucking you even after you protested. You loved that every part of you belonged to him; body, mind, and soul. 

He thrust into you with wild intensity, grunting and breathing heavily as he got closer and closer to his release. You weakly clawed at the hand squeezing your neck, but he was unmoving. Tears were brimming in your eyes now from the pleasurable pain, but that only fueled his hunger. 

“This is what you fucking wanted, isn’t it?” He hissed, making you whine. “You went through all of this trouble,” his hand moved from your neck to roughly grip your jaw and turn your head to the side, giving you a perfect view of the dead body that started all of this, “so stop fucking whining and take it.” He growled. When he pulled your head back to face him, there was a grin on your face at the reminder of what you did. 

“God you’re so fucking sick.” He muttered, but his tone was full of love and admiration. Leaning down quickly, he pressed his lips to yours in a bruising kiss and his hands eagerly ran over your body as he chased his orgasm. When he pulled back, far too soon, you let out a needy whine that went ignored by him. “Should I give you my come?” He cooed, mockingly, but you moaned anyway. “I gave you my ring, my last name… might as well give you my kid too, right?” 

“Fuck… Jon, please-” You gasped out, feeling another orgasm building. 

“Yeah? Is that what you want? Because I can give it to you, baby… All you have to do is ask.” He said teasingly, but the breathlessness in his voice betrayed his composure— he wanted this just as badly as you did. 

“I want it.” You whined, making him chuckle at your lame attempt. 

“Do better.” 

“I,” You started, but cut off when his hand reached down for your clit again, making it infinitely harder to speak. “I- I want your come, Jon. Want your kid.” You choked out.  

“You want me to fill you up? Stuff you full of my come, so deep that you’ll have no choice but to get knocked up?” You moaned loudly and nodded, unable to respond as the pleasure consumed you. 

“Please… Please fill me, Jon. I- I want to be yours even more than I already am.” You whined, feeling an almost carnal need to be completely his, in every single way possible. 

“Good girl.” He gave you a pleased smile, making your cheeks heat up. “I’m gonna give it to you, I just need you to come for me first. Can you do that, darling?” You were nodding eagerly before he could even finish. 

“Yes— yes, I’m close..” Sometimes you forget that he knows your body better than you do. He knows exactly what to do to push you closer to the edge, or pull you back down from it. And right now he was forcing you closer, giving you no other option but to come for him. 

“C’mon, baby… Let me make you mine.” He begged softly, making you whimper and squeeze your eyes shut. You barely lasted another second before the knot of arousal in your stomach finally snapped, feeling so much more intense than your first orgasm. You cried out and dragged your nails across his back as you arched up into him. He was pounding you ruthlessly, still rubbing your clit, and the orgasm almost felt a little too good to solely be pleasurable because of the overstimulation. 

Once he knew your orgasm finally faded, he brought his hand back up from your clit and focused on fucking you, hard and fast. You were sobbing out moans, tears brimming in your eyes as he continued using your sore, sensitive body for his pleasure. 

“Please— please come, Jon.” You whimpered, staring up at him with teary eyes. He cursed under his breath and let his head drop into the crook of your neck. Once again, you felt trapped— forced to take what he wanted you to. He was grunting quietly and panting as he built up to his orgasm. 

“Jon..” You sobbed, making him groan. The movement of his hips became strained for a second, then he was pushing in all the way, deep enough to make you whine at the uncomfortable pressure on your cervix. He was moaning quietly and panting against your neck as his come finally spilled into you, marking you as his. You mewled and squirmed, arousal pooling in your stomach once again. He kept his face buried in the crook of your neck as he calmed himself down, chest heaving. When he pulled up to look at you, he had the faintest hint of a smile on his lips. 

“So pretty, darling.” He whispered, brushing the tears from your face and cupping your cheek. “And all mine.” You gave him a dopey smile at his words, then pulled him down to kiss you again. This one was far less animalistic, but it wasn’t even close to lacking in passion. When he pulled back, you reached for his left hand, bringing it up to your lips and gently kissing the ring on his finger, keeping your lips just barely touching his hand as you responded. 

“All mine.” 

Taglist (join here)

@pedrisgatorade @lunyyx @faebirdie @idkdudsworld @nashja @rentaldarling @cillianscrybaby @vivvive @ceruleanrainblues @mrkdvidal1989 @brooklynscherry-z @ohmysatansstuff @aviamulier @d1lf-loverthinqs @butlersluvbot @miyababby @n1ghtw1ngslver @mandowhatnow @baekhyunstruly @nashja @xxorazz @halleysc6met @crunchsworld @cillianscrybaby @babaohhhriley @deceitfuldevout @gentyleman @lorelais-world @shroombloom-rry @pinguwrites @thatonesinglefriend @bernelflo @milktert @nyxxie-pooh @bluujaiwrites @crunchsworld @jayroytodd

#jonathan crane x reader smut #jonathan crane smut #jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane #scarecrow x reader smut #scarecrow x reader #scarecrow #dark knight rises

[msfantasy-comics]

The Perfect Match

Bruce Wayne x Reader

Summary: A head cannon on how you’re the perfect match for Bruce.

Warning: Established relationships

Masterlist - Tip Jar

Bruce had always considered the concept of a perfect match to be a feeble notion. The idea that a someone could be perfect and perfectly compliment one’s self was simply illogical and just not possible.

But that’s the thing about hypotheticals, they’re just theories until proven otherwise. Bruce can distinguish five instances on when he recognised you to be his perfect match.

Intelligence:

You weren’t a genius capable of rattling off theories and solving impossible equations. Not by any means. You were, however, incredibly intelligent when it comes to people and making them feel important.

It wasn’t a super power or psychological trickery. It was that you listened to people and ask them questions about their hobbies or family.

It was the way that you leaned in as if you were keen to hear what that person had to say.

It was the way you smile softly when people start to babble off in excitement as you reciprocate the conversation

Whilst you didn’t fully comprehend quantum physics or the engineering to Bruce Wayne’s degree

You sat there happily indulging Bruce as he discusses a new equation he solved

It was the way you made him feel like he could talk about anything without judgement or without your eyes wondering elsewhere in boredom.

Bruce: “Anyway, you probably have more important things to do.”

Y/n: “Don’t be silly. You’re just as important. Go on, finish what you were saying.”

Independence:

Bruce dreaded needy women who are utterly incapable of being self-sufficient. Who required rescuing and constant entertainment like a puppy.

Bruce: “I have an emergency work trip for an unspecified amount of time. I probably won’t be able to contact you too much. Will you be okay without me?”

Y/n *acting like a damsel in distress*

Y/n: “Oh no! I’m being abandoned in the biggest mansion with a butler, a library and a black Amex card. What could one do with one’s self? What a travesty!”

Bruce would return from his two week trip excited to see you again after not being in contact the whole time.

Only you weren’t at the mansion at 4pm on a Tuesday.

Bruce *calling your phone*

Y/n: “Hi honey! I missed you so much!”

Bruce: “Come home and show me how much you’ve missed me.”

Y/n: “What? I finish work in an hour, surely you can survive 60 more minutes without me- oh I have to go, I’ll see you soon my love!”

Supportive:

Bruce didn’t make it to your anniversary dinner.

He didn’t even have a chance to call you and cancel.

He exited the bat cave feeling utterly guilty for abandoning you on such an important occasion.

Bruce felt utterly defeated. A failure of a father. Batman got into a one on one fist fight with Red-Hood, attempting to save the Jokers life, only for his son to forsake himself. Now he had to face his failures as a husband.

Opening the door he sees you laying in bed, scrolling away at your phone.

As soon as you noticed him you tossed the phone and made a mad dash, pulling him into a bear hug.

Y/n: “Honey, I’m so proud of you. Being there when your son needed you most. You’re such a good man. Don’t be hard on yourself, remember that Jason is a grown man who made his decision.”

Pulling Bruce to bed, you pull him into a tight hold and continue to comfort him.

Bruce really appreciated that you didn’t bring up his absence.

Bruce: “I missed our -“

Y/n: “You didn’t miss anything. Your with me now aren’t you? Happy anniversary my beloved.”

Emotionally Stable:

Damian was over your nagging.

Y/n: “Damian, you need to get more sleep. I’m worried your burning yourself out.”

Y/n: “When was the last time you had a proper meal? You can’t survive off burgers alone you know.”

Y/n: “When was the last time you saw Jon? You have to maintain your friendships or else they fall apart.”

Y/n: “Stop having these energy drinks! It’s basically poison for your body - have you had any water today? You look dehydrated!”

You snatched the can out of his hand and threw it in the bin.

Damian lost his absolute shit.

Damian: “Enough with your incessant criticism!You’re getting on my nerves!”

Crosses his arms over his chest and looks off in irritation.

Bruce stands frowning behind him, ready to give his son the scolding of a life time.

But instead your laughter booms across the bat cave.

You find Damian’s little outburst amusing and adorable rather than rude and hurtful.

Y/n: “You’re right D, I’m sorry, I’ll lay off you a bit.”

You’d pull him into that tight hug he says he hates but he always leans into your comforting hold.

Y/n: “You boys be careful tonight, I’ll see you both in the morning”

#Batman x reader #Bruce Wayne x reader #batman imagines #Bruce Wayne imagines #bruce wayne x y/n #batman x y/n #bruce wayne x you #Batman x you #dc imagine #dc x reader #batboys imagine #batboys #bruce wayne x reader

[claymoresword]

Where's My Love

Cersei Lannister x Stark Fem!Reader 🐺

Prompt: I was wondering if you could write a Cersei x Stark!fem!reader where she's Ned's youngest sister and Cersei's ex-secret lover. Reader is a rebel like Arya and never married but she's very protective of her nieces/nephews. She and Cersei had a bad breakup and are finally reuniting during the events of the first GOT episode when the king's court goes to Winterfell. You could write reader backing up Arya again Joffrey and Cersei seething 😂😂😂 you can include g!p and smut if you want.

Wordcount: 5.8k

Pairing: Cersei x Stark Reader

Warnings: g!p reader, smut, power play, depictions of physical abuse, cheating , very toxic , references to alcoholism, breeding kink if you squint, emotional manipulation, did i already say this was toxic ?

Note: thank you so much 🐑 for the prompt! i actually had a lot of fun writing this one. also important to note this is my first time actually publishing something y'all have requested me to write so hopefully i got this right.. i know i tweaked and added a couple things but i hope you don't mind! and if you hate this i'm sorry lmao i tried <33

(smut after asterisks)

Bouts of laughter erupt from your nephews as Bran once again misses his mark, the arrow flies way over the target.

You glare at the older boys, in response Robb places a hand over his mouth, Jon instead chooses to avoid your gaze entirely focusing his stare at the ground beneath.

All dirt and sleet on the base of your boot, the ground squelched with every step you took.

“Try again, Bran. Take a deep breath, aim properly.” You order placing a lingering hand on his shoulder. 

The young boy nods obediently as you step back once more, he raises his bow arm. 

He aims, soon releasing the string, and once again, he misses. The arrow pierces the edge of a barrel on the far left, leagues away from his actual target.

Once again the boys burst into fits of laughter, this time is it not you who reprimands them.

“And which one of you was a marksman at ten?” You follow the sound of your brother's voice, he is standing on the balcony above, Catelyn by his side.

“Keep trying, Bran.” Jon decides to cease his teasing, he encourages his half-brother.

A sudden gust of wind tickles your face, the cold breeze permeates the air, bleeding through the thin fabric of your doublet. You immediately regret not putting on more layers this morning. You have lost track of the days, but there is no doubt that winter is coming.

“Robb, make certain your brother continues practicing. I am going back inside, but remember– your father is watching.” You warn your eldest nephew, as stern as you can manage. 

Shaggy streaks of red hair fall over his eyes as he nods. 

You wrap your arms around yourself as you start up the stairs, but your plan to slip back into your chambers unnoticed fails.

“Y/n.” Cat appears next to you.

“Are you alright?” The Lady of Winterfell asks, and you force a sweet smile, one to disarm and hopefully quell her worries. 

Catelyn didn't exactly warm to you at first, and neither did you with her, but over time you both grew to truly care for one another. She was like an older sister to you, the void left by your late sister Lyanna did not seem so large with her around.

“I'm fine, I just needed to fetch something from my bedchambers, that's all.” You lie. However, the older woman somehow always manages to see right through you.

She gazes upon you skeptically only to eventually release your arm. She takes a step back, allowing you to take your leave without further interrogation.

-

In truth, you were far from alright. 

Despite yourself, you have been on edge since finding out that the King is on his way to Winterfell with his Lady wife and all of their children.

This visit is a sudden one. Upon the death of Jon Arryn you had expected things to be different, knowing how much the former Hand meant to your brother– but you never anticipated a visit from the King himself.

You hadn't seen Robert in nine years, and his wife for longer than that. 

It is not by accident.

If it was up to you, things would be different. You would still be in King's Landing today, perhaps serving as Knight– or as Cersei had once intended, a personal guard for the Queen.

You were once certain that you would spend the rest of your days by Cersei's side, no matter the circumstances, but you merely held the high hopefulness of a young girl. 

Since then have been forced to accept that life is nothing like the tales and songs you were fed as a child. The Gods are not always merciful, things rarely ever go to plan and love most certainly does not conquer all.

Life got in the way of your love, and pride did the rest. 

You have not spoken to Cersei Lannister in a decade, yet your entire being continued to ache with every day that you have spent apart. Time does not heal the type of hurt that only yields to resentment.

When the King and Queen arrive for their visit on the morrow, you intend to avoid her Grace at all costs, for her sake and your own. Above all, you will have no choice but to grit your teeth and endure what you must.

You haven't seen Cersei in years, but you were bound to slaughter each other given the chance.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

“Come in!” You beckon whoever was on the other side of the door as you fastened the clasps on your doublet.

Ned ceases his knocking, pushing the door open, he looks upon you in a way he knew you hated, but your brother can hardly help it.

He worries about you. When you returned home all those years ago, you were inconsolable. 

You are a Stark, not made for the South. Your brother tried in jest, but he knew it wasn't the weather, or even court politics that despaired you. 

It was Cersei, it had always been Cersei.

"The King was seen riding up; he should be arriving any moment.” Ned states.

“Right, I'm almost done here.” You quip, but the man takes it upon himself to assist you with your sheepskin cloak, draping it over your shoulders.

He keeps his hands on you, his brows furrowed with evident worry, and for some reason you can't help but find it all a bit silly, you chuckle lightly. “I will be fine, Ned.” 

Your brother appears less than convinced,  you shove him playfully. “You worry about me too much, brother, it’s beginning to age you.”

Ned scoffs. “Aye, try being in my position for a day and you'll understand why I worry so much… but it is time that's aging me, little sister.” Ned quips in response and this makes you pause.

You notice the streaks of white, scattered across his dark locks. As the morning sun peeks through the window, catching his face, you observe more of those streaks in his beard.

Where has time gone?

Ned steps closer, it seems that he has mistaken your silence for something else. Your brother plants a quick kiss on the crown of your head as a result.

In times like this you can't help but feel like a girl of thirteen again, looking to her older brother for protection.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

You watched as the Kingsguard rode through the walls of Winterfell, Lannister banners in hand. It unsettles you more than you thought it would. You gnaw at the inside of your cheek, turning to Sansa, her younger sister still nowhere in sight.

“Sansa, where is your sister?” You question and the girl only shrugs dismissively, but you aren't left wondering for long as Arya can be seen pushing through the crowd, quickly settling next to you.

The young girl was wearing an iron helm you had never seen before, her once pristine dress now ornamented with specks of dirt and grime. You shake your head disapprovingly, an effort to suppress your amusement.

Sansa scoffs at the sight of her younger sister, while you snatch the helm off Arya's head, she looks up at you with a scowl.

“Where did you even get this?” You ask, your tone manages to match the look on her face.

Arya gives you no response, and you aren't allowed the opportunity to press her further as you feel a nudge against your arm. Ned forces you to look ahead as the King can be seen dismounting his horse.

Ned kneels, and you and everyone else follows suit.

After a beat, the King's command all of you to rise, and soon you spot the carriage halting a few feet behind him.

You involuntarily held your breath as the door opens. The Queen emerges, she keeps her gaze ahead as she climbs down the steps.

Cersei looks the picture of poise and grace. She seems older, and somehow even more beautiful than you remembered. It knocked the wind right out of you, you had to look away. 

Your eyes are no longer on the Queen, but your chest aches all the same.

“Cat!” Your attention is pulled to the display before you as the King addresses your sister in law, pulling her in for an embrace that she doesn't appear to be prepared for.

“Nine years. why haven't I seen you, where the hell have you been?” Robert addresses your brother once more.

“Guarding the North, Your Grace. Winterfell is yours.” Ned replies, practiced and noble as he always was.

Robert then turns to you, a scowl upon his face, one that stuns you slightly. Your mind turns to Cersei, you consider what she might have shared with her Lord husband in your absence. 

She must have told him the real reason you left King's Landing, no doubt the King will want you punished for repeatedly bedding his wife all those years ago. but then the King's frown turns, and your mind ceases its torment. 

Robert lunges only to pull you in for an embrace, a gesture that startles you, your body remains tense until he releases you from his hold.

“I expected better from you, Y/n.” The King narrows his gaze in a puckish manner. 

“Unlike your damned brother here I thought you enjoyed the Keep. I was sure you wanted to serve in my Kingsguard.” He adds, and you force a grin, gallant yet strained.

“I admit that was a different time, Your Grace. These days, my passions lie elsewhere.” You reply, and you can hardly prevent the way your gaze flits towards the Queen for a moment.

Cersei has been stood beside her husband, staring at you relentlessly for the entire duration of this interaction. If the Queen has remained the same person she was all those years ago, then you know for certain this was her attempt to intimidate– but you were not so keen on letting her have the upper hand. 

You drill your expression, unfazed.

The King snorts derisively at your answer, but says nothing more.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

You had spent most of the afternoon, drowning in your cups. The knowledge that Cersei was only a few doors away was aggravating, everything you thought to have successfully repressed has now resurfaced.

Every inch of you calls out to Cersei, your very soul yearns for her. You craved the unbearable pain, and blinding pleasure that came with being around her.

You have laid awake many nights picturing the ways you would confront her. The things you would say to her. 

You fantasized about the possibility of finally being rid of all of your pain. To hurt her the same way she hurt you. Your heart, dense and cold, obstructed by all things Cersei. Within you, you carried everything you despised about the other woman– and all the things you adored.

The Queen was a mistake you couldn't erase, and simultaneously the best thing that has ever happened to you. You hate her, but you cannot stand to be apart from her.

-

The sound of commotion snatches you out of your thoughts. The voices that permeate sound vaguely familiar to you, but you are only able to place them once you take a glance out your window.

You spot Arya and Bran in the courtyard. Prince Joffrey standing over them, your face falls as you spot his steel unsheathed from his scabbard and in his hand.

Without another moment's thought you rushed downstairs towards the training yard, prepared to pacify the affair, however dire it may be, but it seems Arya has taken the situation into her own hands.

Bran is gone, but the Prince is now on the ground. It seems that Arya has managed to disarm the older boy, his steel thrown to the side in the dirt. 

Now she is threatening Joffrey with a wooden practice sword, her direwolf beside her, growling with intent at the Prince.

“Arya enough!” You intercept the blow, forcefully dragging your niece away from the boy.

“What the seven hells do you think you're doing?” You bark, and Arya drops the sword, her chest still heaving.

A young girl seething with unbridled fury was such an uncommon sight that it makes you grimace.

“He was trying to hurt Bran! I had to protect him.” Arya gestures to the Prince, the boy still whimpering in pain.

“Damn you and that stupid dog! I am telling my mother! I will report you to the king!” Joffrey hurls his threats, and Arya makes the juvenile decision to respond.

“Nymeria's a direwolf, not a dog!” She shouts and you sigh, placing a hand over your niece's mouth to silence her, an action Arya fights but your grip on her doesn't relent.

“My Prince, I am sure my niece meant no harm–” You try but the boy interjects.

“No harm?” The Prince hisses. “She nearly sliced my arm off!” Once again he whimpers like a pup that had just been trampled.

You take a step forward to examine the cut on Joffrey's arm, and it was only that– a minor cut, one that will heal without leaving as much as a scar.

Large footsteps approach, the Prince's sworn guard comes rushing to the scene, Sandor Clegane scowls at you before assisting the boy to his feet effortlessly with one hand.

“Some protector you are, dog. I almost died!” Joffrey then redirects his frustrations towards his guard.

He continues muttering insults as he retrieves his sword from the dirt, strutting out of the training yard.

Nymeria doesn't cease her growling until the boy was entirely out of sight, it was also only then you remove your hand from Arya's mouth.

“Have you completely lost your wits?” You gape, looking down at your niece disapprovingly, before kneeling to be at eye level with her.

“He was–” Arya starts, but you interrupt.“–I don't care what he did, Arya. You never attack a Prince.” You state firmly.

“You do something like this again and I will make sure you never get the chance to wield a weapon again, do you understand?” You assert, and your tone is harsh enough to make Arya wince.

She doesn't reply with words, she continues looking down at her feet as she nods.

“Let's go and get you cleaned up.” You state, you try to pull her by the arm but Arya doesn't budge.

“I was trying to be brave, like you.” She mutters under her breath, and you turn to look at the young girl once more.

“What?” You ask.

“Don't be upset with me, please, please. I'm sorry.” Then Arya states frantically, her voice small and frail– it shatters you.

“Oh, Arya– my sweet girl.” You say, kneeling once again. “I'm not upset, I was worried.” You pull her in for an embrace, your niece clutches you tightly in return.

After a prolonged moment, you cease the hug, wiping away some of the dirt from her face with the pads of your thumbs. 

Then you took a quick scan of your surroundings, to ensure that you were alone before speaking again.

“Our Prince is a bit of a cunt.” You finally quip, earning a chuckle from Arya.

“He is.” Your niece beams at you, in turn this makes you fill with relief.

“I am proud of you for disarming him. but next time, leave it at that. Do you understand the consequences that come with attacking a King's heir?” You ask, and you watch as a realization graces the young girl, she averts her gaze, this time with guilt.

“Never again, do you hear me?”

═══════════════════════════════════════════

You were exhausted from the events of the day, and yet it was not close to over. 

You decide to retire to your chambers, aiming for at least a few hours rest before the King's welcome feast later this evening.

Resting your hand on the pommel of your sword, you take large steps through the gallery. You crave the horn of ale waiting for you on your nightstand, the comfort of your warm bed.

You turn the corner, a figure appears before you and you swerve out of the way quickly enough to avoid whoever it was that decided to walk toward you in this exact moment from the opposite direction.

As you gather yourself to take a proper look at the woman who you nearly bumped into, your blood runs cold. 

“Your Grace, forgive me.” You state curtly, inclining your head at Cersei. 

Your hand remains resting on the hilt of your sword as you attempt to slip past her, but before you can successfully walk away, she has a hold of your arm, dragging you backwards to where you stood.

You yank your arm out of her hold, a scowl covers your features, but Cersei ignores your visible discontent as she speaks.

“That niece of yours tried to murder my son.” The Queen accuses.

“What?” You can't help the half-laugh that slips out of you. Cersei takes offense to this, her expression hardens.

“Joff will bear those scars for the rest of his life.” She is not backing down, and you can't pretend that you possessed the will to deal with her theatrics.

You only roll your eyes, finally slipping past her and into your chambers.

You step inside your room, but before you can close the door Cersei intercepts, forcefully pushing it open to let herself in.

She slams it closed behind herself.

“You dare walk away from your Queen?” She bellows.

This time you groan, collapsing onto your bed.

You ignore her statement, rubbing your hands over your face in frustration. “Oh, Cersei, it is a cut, it'll heal!”

A prolonged silence from the Queen, she only speaks again once you sit up in your bed.

“You've not changed a bit.” She remarks, treacherous emerald gaze meeting your pale greys.

“Neither have you.” You retaliate boldly.

More silence until Cersei is first to look away, clasping her hands infront of herself she assumes an impassive stance.

“I will have that girl punished.” The Queen threatens, her tone sounds spiteful. but you don't hide your incredulity.

“For what?” You ask, and Cersei's jaw clenches even tighter, you wonder if she might lunge at you.

“She attacked my son. the King's heir.” Cersei retorts, and you scoff.

“Is that what Robert’s teaching his sons? How to lose to a little girl?” You taunt, not backing down.

You knew Arya should receive consequences for her actions by right, but giving Cersei that satisfaction is the absolute last thing you plan to do.

“Or is it not the King's doing at all?” You ask again as Cersei fails to respond. You rise from the bed, stepping closer to the Queen.

“Is it Jaime's fault?” You tilt your head inquisitively, mockingly. 

You are close enough to smell the lavender oil on Cersei's skin. Her eyes flit to your lips for a fleeting moment, and yours do the same to hers. 

Then a madness overcomes you, prompting your next choice of words.

“I expect it is him you've been opening your legs for these days–” You utter, but you are swiftly silenced when Cersei's palm makes contact with your cheek.

She slaps you across the face, your head turns slightly from the force of it. Your face is now throbbing, raw and red with traces of Cersei's wrath. 

She goes to strike you again, and this time it is intercepted by your firm grip on her wrist. 

A fury reignites within you as Cersei tries to fight out of your hold, entirely allowing your emotions to guide your actions, your hand finds her throat. Before your rational mind can mitigate it, you have your fingers firmly wrapped around her neck. The back of her head slams against the wooden door as you forcibly pinned her upon it.

The Queen is clawing at your hand, struggling to take a breath as you restricted her airway. A real fear flashes across Cersei's face, and a part of you wants to watch her fall limp within your grasp, to quiet her once and for all, to destroy the cause of your agony. but you don't– instead you take a step back, releasing her. 

Cersei gasps as air sharply re enters her lungs, roughly wiping away the tears that have made it down her cheeks.

The Queen attempts to regain her resolve the best she can, and the look she gives you is not one of shock, instead it is pure disdain, and you look at her the same. Cersei doesn't speak, she merely shoves you harshly with both hands against your chest, as you stumbled back, she turns to open the door.

You collapse on your bed once more as Cersei dissapears into the hallway, the door shutting behind her. 

“Fuck.” You cursed under your breath. It seemed the Queen will never fail to elicit the worst from you– to make you act like an utter lunatic.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

The welcome feast has been dragging on now for what felt like an eternity. 

The King was no longer seated as his high table, instead he was in the center of the hall, shamelessly flirting with some of the servants.

You roll your eyes, reaching for the flagon of ale infront of you, as you attempted to lift it, it doesn't budge. You fleetingly wonder if the liquor had caused you to lose all strength in your arm, only to realize your brother was holding the jug firmly on the table so it wouldn't move.

You squint at Ned, and he glares at you in return.

“Enough. You'll drink yourself into an early grave if you keep this up.” Your brother warns and it makes you snigger.

“That is the plan, brother.” You slur slightly, but Ned makes the deliberate effort to ignore you.

You slump backwards in your chair, when you've realized you lost this argument, as you often did when it came to the lord of Winterfell.

You eyes fall upon King Robert once more, he is still in the middle of the room, surrounded by maidens and even more whores. 

This time he is no longer flirting with them, he is in a full lip lock with one of the women. He does this in the presence of the Queen, dishonouring her for all to see.

You grimace at the sight, an unwanted rage overcomes you. You can hardly believe this lecherous drunk was King of the Seven Kingdoms. Married to the most beautiful woman in all of the seven kingdoms, the only woman you have ever wanted.

You can't bear to look at Cersei's reaction to this, in fact you can hardly remain at this feast for a moment longer. You abruptly rise from your seat, Ned looks up at you, puzzled.

“May I please be excused?” You asked formally for the rest of the table to hear and your brother hesitates before nodding curtly in response.

As you walked back to your chambers you can't help but invision what your life would have been like if your brother had taken the Iron throne instead of Robert Baratheon. If you had remained in King's Landing– if you had wedded Cersei instead.

Perhaps in a different life. 

You and Cersei would be married, and you'd rule together. In another reality Cersei would be your Queen and not Robert's. She would bear your children, your heirs. You would grow old together and live out your days by each other's side. In a different life, you would have remained faithful to Cersei, you would have given her everything she desired and in return, Cersei would offer you her heart. 

You would have been happy.

In another life. 

By the time you reached your room, the tears had stopped flowing, but the collar of your shirt remained drenched.

As you shut your door, you unclapsed your doublet, lifting it above your head, tossing it aimlessly across the room. 

Now only in your tunic and breeches, you feel the urge to weep some more, but you refuse to allow your tears to fall this time. 

You take a seat on the settee, head in your hands. The effects of the ale already wearing off, a headache rapidly setting in, you realized that you needed another drink.

You get up to fetch the flagon from the small table but as your door flings wide open, nearly hitting you in the process, you freeze where you stand.

A familiar golden haired beauty emerges through the doorway, and you allow yourself a deep breath. Clutching your chest slightly to calm yourself.

“Your Grace, the hour is late.” You state dismissively, starting across the room to fetch your goblet.

“If you have come to order my execution for my behaviour this afternoon, best get it over with.” You quip, the liquor in your system doing all of the talking for you.

You hear the door shut, without looking back you assume Cersei had taken her leave but you are perplexed when you turn to see her still standing by the door, watching you set down your goblet.

You walk across the room once more to take a seat on the settee, you remove your boots, setting them aside.

Cersei has remained silent for long enough that you nearly forgotten her presence entirely. Her next ask startles you.

“Look at me.” Her commanding tone leaves no room to argue, you glance at her. 

Her eyes were swollen, her cheeks flushed. It is clear to you that she has been crying as well.

You rise from your seat abruptly, approaching her. “Are you alright?” You ask, and again the Queen says nothing.

She merely stares at you, hopefulness at your concern and despair at the fact that you needed to ask.

**

She lunges forward, before you can fully comprehend it, her lips crash against your own, she kisses you deeply, pure anguish and want. It snatches the air right out of your lungs, but you have no desire to pull away.

Your tongue makes contact with her own and Cersei moans, pulling you impossibly closer by the nape of your neck.

Your body pressed up against hers as she leans against the wall. You were now both panting into the kiss, all aggression and desire. 

You had not been with Cersei like this in a decade, and yet there was a complete lack of uncertainty. It felt right, you were certain that you are meant to be with her like this, until the end of your days. 

However, there still exists voice deep within you, whether it is pride or reason, you cannot say for certain. but it urges you to pull away, so you do.

The Queen chases your lips eagerly, but you pull back even further. “Cersei, stop. What is this, what are you doing?” You ask, every moment you spent without your lips on hers felt like pure agony.

“I just need you– please–” Cersei replies with a desperation you have never heard before, and this was enough to break you. 

Any semblance of dignity vanishes into the very depths of yourself, all that's left is your deep and tortuous want for Cersei.

You kiss her again, rough and urgent, you are panting and groaning into each other's mouths. Cersei's hands immediately move to the hem of your breeches, she unlaces them in record time, slipping her hand inside.

You nearly lose it all when she wraps her fingers around the base of your cock, stroking it with such dexterity you fear your knees may give out.

“Gods–” You grunt, bucking your hips embarrassingly into her touch. 

You find the strength to remove her hand from your breeches. Soon enough you slip them off, your slacks pooling around your ankles before you kicked them to the side.

You swiftly remove your own tunic as Cersei's trembling hands struggle to undo the laces of her dress. 

Your patience wearing thin, you flip her around, indecently ripping the fabric open with one swift tug. 

“Y/n–” Cersei scolds in response to your eagerness, glancing back at you with dissaproval, but her dress easily slips off her shoulders after that, her smallclothes follow suit.

The Queen is still facing away from you as you part her hair away from her neck, trailing open mouthed kisses against her hot flesh, as you reached a certain familiar spot, your teeth grazed the skin, before biting down on it briefly. 

This earns a louder noise from Cersei, she is still trembling as she turns back around to face you, grabbing you firmly to pull you in for another sloppy kiss.

Lips still interlocked, the Queen walks you backwards onto the bed, Cersei doesn't waste another moment, straddling you as soon as you settled your rear on the edge of the bedding.

Your cock now stiff as a rod, poking at Cersei's entrance. The other woman begins moving her hips as you kissed, rubbing her cunt on the length of your shaft, coating it with her slick.

Your breath quickens, the sensation was maddening, you needed to be inside her now.

“Gods, I missed you.” You let it slip as your lips parted for a moment, but Cersei doesn't respond. 

The Queen's grip on the nape of your neck moves to your hair as she grasps a handful of it, tugging your head back slightly. Her other hand travels south, she grips the base of your cock once more, this time lining it up to her entrance. 

She begins lowering herself onto your length, Cersei moves quickly, with every inch that enters her, she lets out a gasp at the sensation. Soon you are sheathed inside of her to the hilt, and Cersei throws her head back, she releases an unrestrained moan, her hands now firmly on your shoulders.

She attemps to push you back against the bed, but you refuse to budge. Cersei relents, kissing you again as she moves her hips up and down the length of your cock. With every moan from Cersei you retaliate with a groan.

The feeling of her walls fluttering against your girth made you dizzy. The Queen felt so unbelievably good wrapped around your cock, you had forgotten just how intoxicating it was.

Now that you were experiencing it again, you never wanted it to end.

 Vulgar noises of your coupling filled the room as Cersei moved herself desperately against your lap, your cock hitting just the right spots within her. 

The Queen can feel her release already approaching, entirely overwhelmed by this she falls limp against you, but you manage to support her weight with minimal effort. Her hips still moving at a steady pace until it finally hits her, her orgasm washes over her like a wave. 

Cersei cries out in pleasure, partially muffled against your neck, she holds onto you for dear life as her peak overcomes all her other senses, relentless and unforgiving. You feel her cunt clenching painfully around your cock, her short shallow breaths against your neck, she is trembling helplessly, and you never want to let her go.

“Seven hells.” The Queen breathes out, finally lifting her head to look at you.

Cersei's eyes were nearly glazed over, her chest heaving violently, but you were far from done with her.

You capture her lips with your own again, earning a content moan. You remained sheathed inside of her as you flipped your positions, now Cersei laid on the bed, with you on top of her. The other woman's gasp in surprise is muffled by your own mouth against hers.

Once again she moans into your mouth as you began your thrusts, deep and slow, you aim to feel every inch of her. Cersei wraps her legs around your waist, pulling you in even deeper.

The Queen gasps as your mouth found the swell of her breasts, your tongue leaving a trail of saliva as you expertly moved from one nipple to the other. 

Your thrusts grow harsh and inconsistent as you felt your own climax building. Cersei's back arches, a deafening moan rips out of her. 

You roughly placed your hand against her stomach, pinning her down against the bed as you continued to rut into her. Cersei was mewling and panting like a whore now as you used her for your own pleasure, heightening her own in the process. 

The Queen finds just enough strength to pull you closer, her lips now against your ear.

“Tell me you love me.” Cersei pleads, and this takes you entirely by surprise, you slow your movements but you don't stop.

“What?” You ask, shaky, breathless.

“Just say it.” The Queen repeats amidst another moan, she clenches around your cock and the sound that emits from you then is guttural, primal.

You oblige without asking further questions.

“I love you, Cersei” You speak, from the heart, damning the consequences.

With that, Cersei reaches her peak again, her nails digging into the flesh of your back as she comes. The feeling of her perfect cunt milking your cock, accompanied by her writhing body underneath you was enough to push you over the edge.

As you attempt to pull out, Cersei kept her legs firmly wrapped around your waist, holding you in place. You are not given the opportunity to question it as it was already too late, you moaned as you released your load deep inside her, painting her womb with your seed.

**

═══════════════════════════════════════════

Nearly a candlemark has passed since your coupling and neither you or Cersei have said more than a few words. 

Simply embracing each other under the sheets, she rests her head against your shoulder, tracing circles absentmindedly with her finger against your abdomen. 

This position was achingly familiar, almost as if no time had passed.

Cersei soon moves her hand further up, she traces her fingers across your bottom lip before running her thumb down the bridge of your nose. The sensation earns a chuckle out of you, you finally had to reach up to remove her hand, guiding it away from your face.

Cersei's stare betrays an intensity that makes your heart constrict painfully in your chest.

Still unspeaking, it was your turn to explore her body, but you don't get very far, your fingertips trace the faint bruising on her neck, the marks left by your own cruelty.

The Queen then shuts her eyes, she doesn't allow herself to look upon your guilt any longer. Wrapping her arm across your torso, nuzzling her face against your shoulder.

“I'm not letting you go– never again.” Cersei mutters, and the smile that tugs on your lips is one of relief and acceptance.

You don't supress the urge to plant a lingering kiss on her temple, one the Queen allows herself to melt into.

#cersei lannister smut #cersei x reader #g!p reader #cersei lannister #ned stark #stark reader #fem stark reader #ned stark x reader #catelyn stark #g!p

[indigovigilance]

Bullet Theory

Thesis: Crowley passed Aziraphale a bullet during the Final Fifteen kiss. This bullet contains his memories. He tucked it under his tongue, then began to access the memories during the ride up the elevator.

Edit: debunked by God himself, in response to this post. As a reminder, please don’t send fan theories to NG.

Proof:

Glint in the mouth

Inspo credit to this post by @somehow-a-human

Yeah so we were already paying way too much attention to that very special four-letter word we thought Aziraphale was going to say, but it so happens that during that cut-off phoneme is the only time you can see this shiny object in his mouth. (catching this on the right frame was emotionally painful and I’m sending Gavin Finney my therapy bills (actually no I’m not I love you very much sir)).

So that’s the basis of this theory. Crowley passed Aziraphale a bullet that he then tucks under his tongue.

Add’l Evidence Post-Kiss

Aziraphale works his jaw after raising his fingers to his lips: [gif]

Then when the Metatron comes in, he turns his back on the Metatron and raises his hand. I originally thought he was wiping his eyes. Now I think he’s raising his hand to his mouth, maybe to spit out the bullet, maybe to make sure it’s secured under his tongue.

Credits Scene

Aziraphale has the craziest fucking look on his face through the credits, we can all agree. But towards the end, his eyes flicker back and forth, as if he is watching or reading something. Then he smiles. I hypothesize that he is still accessing his memories during this time, and getting the information he needs to [redacted].

Thematic Justification: The Bullet Catch

Aziraphale having a bullet in his mouth as part of a two-man act of deception is not a fresh concept by the time we get to The Final Fifteen.

Additionally, the use of surreptitious modes of communication, where messages are passed from person to person inaudabily, is introduced in this same magic trick. 

NB1: I wish I could credit the person who I first saw point this out (relatively recently). It wasn’t even tagged as meta, I don’t think. But the gist was there’s some parallelism between “aim for my mouth but shoot past my ear” and the “pin the lips on the lips” move that Crowley pulls in the Final Fifteen. If I find it I will properly cite.

NB2: One hypothesis that has circulated around, I think creditable to @sendarya, is that Aziraphale mouths “trust me” to Crowley just before he gets on the elevator. This isn’t necessary to the Bullet Theory but it would be thematically consistent.

Small objects carry memories

Why a bullet? Well, it’s a small object that has meaningful significance between the pair of people involved, much like:

Beelzebub introduces us to the idea that a small object like a fly can be used as a storage container for memories. We also see that the object entering the body of the person is a viable way for the memories to be delivered.

(btw Jon Hamm if you’re reading this, you have very pretty eyes)

“I keep a derringer in a hollowed out book”

K, so it’s not like Crowley is just carrying a bullet loaded with Aziraphale’s memories around with him at all times, is it? (I mean, it could be, but probably not. I’ll just point you to this meta for my theories on why, if Crowley had anything that needed to be kept safe, he would keep it in the bookshop.)

We learn in S2E4 that Aziraphale keeps a gun in a hollowed out book somewhere in the shop. A gun wouldn’t be any good without bullets, right? This may not be the reason the derringer was left as a Chekhov’s Gun for S3, but it’s a possibility. If Crowley wasn’t already in possession of a bullet, he knew that he could find one in the shop. Even more likely, the exact bullet used in the 1941 magic trick is a precious keepsake being kept somewhere in the bookshop, and Crowley chose to use that exact bullet because of the memories already directly attached to the object.

Why Aziraphale even has memories to be returned to him

We know that Aziraphale could have had his mind wiped because Heaven has done it before. Certainly once. Probably twice. We know this because when Metatron is announcing that Gabriel, alongside having his memories erased, is being demoted to 38th class, Muriel pipes up and reminds us that they are 37th class:

So this wasn’t a “just Gabriel” thing. Mind-wiping is a routine form of personnel management in Heaven. There is NO reason for us to believe that it didn’t happen to Aziraphale. But in case you need a reason to believe it, here goes:

We know from our interactions with Jim that the person whose memories are missing (1) doesn’t necessarily know and (2) isn’t necessarily distressed by that fact, even if they do. Muriel also fits this “cheerful empty shell” archetype. You know who else does? Ding ding ding. The one and only A. Z. “wiggles with delight” Fell.

I can already hear your very valid counter-argument. This guy is actually terrified out of his mind on any given day that his romance with a demon will be discovered. Yes. Because he’s involved in a romance with a demon. The other two angels we’ve met don’t have this issue. Beyond that, though, these three characters share more in common with each other disposition-wise than any of them do with the other angels we’ve met (Uriel, Michael, Sandolphon, etc.).

We also know that Aziraphale has been [demoted] at some point from Cherub to Principality. This is book canon: 

"Technically Aziraphale was a Principality, but people made jokes about that these days."

This has also been confirmed (insofar as Neil Gaiman ever confirms anything) by Word of God:

(marketing video screengrab clipped for brevity)

We don’t know for sure it was a demotion, but I think we have enough evidence to infer that with a high degree of confidence.

Anyways.

Summary: Aziraphale is a cheerful angel who was demoted and has a name that is not biblical canon. This evidence indicates that was probably mind-wiped. This is not the first time I’m proposing this. It won’t be the last.

How Crowley Did It

My meta on Continuity Errors gives the complete proof for why I believe that Crowley is able to stop time without Aziraphale knowing, and I propose in that meta that the kiss was a cover-up for the exertion of effort necessary to pull that off. I further proposed that during the pause, he retrieved something from the bookshop. At the time of writing, I didn’t know what. Now, I have an inkling that it was a bullet.

If you need a refresher on Clock Theory, here’s one. The idea is that the clock behind Aziraphale shifts by fifteen minutes from before the kiss to after the kiss. This is consistent with a theory that Crowley paused time (but the clock kept running) in order to retrieve the bullet, dump Aziraphale’s memories into it if he hadn’t already, and then return to transfer the bullet to Aziraphale.

Why Crowley Kept the Secret So Long

As with Continuity Errors, I am ending this meta with a very unsatisfactory “I don’t know.” The motivation for Crowley to keep Aziraphale’s memories from him until the very moment he’s about to leave must have been a strong one. I think it has something to do with why Crowley was so insistent on trying to get Aziraphale to run away with him, instead of dealing with whatever’s coming. But as with Continuity Errors, I suspect that the good omens meta hivemind (and the vast collection of people who are posting clues, you have no idea how important you are) will assemble yet more breadcrumbs that we can follow to some sort of hypothesis.

Until then,

iv

(here's my meta index if you would like to read more stuff like this)

#good omens meta #bullet theory #the final fifteen #crowley #aziraphale #good omens gabriel #good omens muriel #good omens #good omens 2 #ineffable husbands #good omens theory #good omens speculation #good omens analysis #good omens clues

[fox-bee926]

Who did this?

Harvey Specter x fem!reader

Masterlist A/N: Wow another one? I'm going to do one more after this and then answer an ask and put all my harvey fics on one post. Then after that who knows. I have an awesome aragorn x reader fic I've been playing around with so I might work on that. Definitely going to try and do more one shots to improve my writing. I really enjoy it but depression makes it a tad hard. Anyways! Enjoy! TW: **This story focuses on the physical abuse between the Reader character and her boyfriend. I am not responsible for the content you consume so please be advised. There are explanations of abuse, but no explicit scenes of abuse occurring.** abuse (physical and emotional), hurt/comfort, Harvey being very sweet, mention of painkillers but I'm talking like 2 tylenol or ibuprofen or something Word Count: 2.5k

You run across the street to the Pearson Hardman office building, just about soaking wet. All that protected you from the rain was a newspaper you bought right outside your building. You prayed all the way to work that it wouldn’t just completely break under the force of the rain. You had spent almost thirty minutes on makeup, twenty five more minutes than you usually spend. To go along with that, you couldn’t find an available taxi because of the rain. Not even the pain in your shoulder had let up, despite taking a couple painkillers.

Your boyfriend had gotten a bit angry with you last night after you went out socializing with some friends. It wasn’t your smartest move. You knew he didn’t like you to hang out with your guy friends without his permission. But you didn’t think it was that big of a deal. The feelings of your heart conflicted with your rational mind. All you know is you love him and he loves you. Which is why he gets upset when you go out without him. But then why wouldn’t he make time to go out with me alone?

You shook those thoughts out of your head as you swiped your card into the building. You took the time in the elevator to dry off with your sweater. Which was consequently soaked. Curses rang out in the elevator- cursing the sweater, the weather, your boyfriend, you didn’t know.

You sat down in the chair next to Donna and exchanged greetings. “How are we looking today, Donna?” You smiled as you saw Harvey sitting in his office. The only person getting into the office earlier than him was Donna.

“Full day as always. Oh, Jonathan from accounting asked for Harvey to look at his expense accounts for this last month. He won’t of course- but as long as they get to Harvey’s desk, Jon won’t speak another word about it until the next thousand dollar dinner with a client.” Donna goes back to typing rapidly on her computer. 

“And then the cycle continues,” You let out a hearty laugh for the first time since you left work last Friday. “I’ll get on that. Anything else while I’m in accounting?” You gather up different file folders that you need to take down to accounting anyway.

“Nope, say hi to Mr. Expense Forms for me!”

“Will do, Donna.”

You quickly walk to the elevator and down to the accounting department for Jonathan's expense reports. Harvey is still in the same spot as he was when you left as you open the door to his office. You make sure to open the door with your left arm, with the papers in your right. 

“I got a delivery for Harvey Specter from Mr. Jonathan Expense Forms from accounting. Fuming as always. You might want to lay off the fancy dinners for a week.” Harvey rolls his eyes at the notion.

“Sweetheart, you think I’m that good at my job that I don’t need fancy dinners to win over clients? You must think very highly of me.” He chuckles smugly as he writes words you can barely read on a legal pad. You deal his snark back just the same.

“Of course I think you’re good. You’re my boss, I’m legally obligated to think so.” You both laugh until you reach with your right arm to set the folder on his desk. You let out a noise just loud enough for Harvey to be concerned. 

“What happened to your shoulder?” 

“It’s nothing, I just fell.”

At this, Harvey looks up. You were never one to be clumsy, let alone fall so hard as to hurt yourself. As Harvey’s eyes assess you, he notices a large dark bruise on your wrist- both your wrists in fact. 

His silence worries you, and you follow his eyes to your wrists. “Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry-” You quickly try to pull your sleeves down to cover the spots. Remnants of rain water drove through the foundation. 

Harvey takes a few deep breaths as you stand there in shocked silence. For the smallest second, you think he’s going to hurt you. Rationally, you know the notion is absurd, but the mind that has dealt with angry men keeps you silent.

Harvey finally speaks after taking a minute to process the information he’s pieced together.

“Who did this to you?”

You’re taken aback, that small part of your mind thinking he would call you unprofessional or weak. “My... My boyfriend. He just gets a little annoyed with me sometimes. It’s truly nothing. I’ll do better to cover them-”

“A good man being annoyed never results in bruises. How did this happen?” Harvey has to go against every part of his nature not to rush out and ask Donna everything about this man, then subsequently find him. He’s thinking that those boxing lessons are actually going to come in handy.

But he knows he can’t. He knows that if he moves like that, or moves at all, he’d terrify you. He can see how your eyes dart around. Towards the door, towards your wrists, and towards himself. He didn’t know how you would react if he even stood up.

“I fell into a bookshelf. He pushed me a bit and I lost balance.”

“You mean he shoved you into a shelf.”

The way Harvey phrased it made you feel uncomfortable. “That’s a bit harsh, but you could phrase it like that.”

He stared at you in disbelief. This wasn’t the woman he saw on a daily basis. The woman that dealt with almost every slimy man that came into the building. The woman that he had slowly fallen in love with since she arrived here.

The woman before him seemed like a shell of the woman he met three years ago, and he couldn’t help what came out of his mouth next.

“Do you know how you sound? You should never be bruised, shoved, or red eyed if you’re in love. That’s simply not how it is, and I’m sorry you’ve been made to believe that.”

At this, the dam broke.

Tears had been pooling in your eyes from the moment Harvey saw the bruises. But at his last words you let out a pained sob. It hadn't sunk in just how bad it had gotten. Your boyfriend had done this a few times before, but had never gotten so harsh until last night.

All the pain from the last year had come rushing in, and you were about to break right in front of your boss. Heavy tears started to run down your face. It was at this moment you were glad you never wore heavy makeup. You did your best to stifle the sounds and cries that tried to escape, but outside, Donna still saw through the glass. 

Immediately, Donna calmly walks in. She takes one look at you, then Harvey. With a single nod from Harvey, Donna lets out a quiet "Car is on its way."

Unfortunately that made you feel even worse. "I'm so sorry, Harvey. This is completely unprofessional-"

Harvey finally stands up and walks towards you. At this point, what you need isn't space. He places his hands as gentle as can be on your arms to coax you to look at him. And you do, but looking at your red eyes and wet tears streaming down your face up close make his heart break even more.

"I don't give a shit about professionalism. Donna is getting the car and my driver is going to take you home-"

"No! He's there, he's been trying to move in with me and doesn't have a day job. He's just been staying there..." Your sentence trails off as you’re trying to process what you’re actually saying. Are you really doing this?

"Okay, then my driver will take you to my place and give you a key. We'll talk about the next steps when I get home. I'll get you some things from your apartment, okay?"

The tears were gone purely by witnessing Harvey be so calm, and you nodded slowly. All you could do was follow the sound of his voice. Like a lighthouse in a raging storm. 

Donna entered the room quietly, "The car is here."

"Good. Donna will walk you out." You nodded, not saying a word. You turn to walk out of Harvey’s office, but he reaches out for your hand. “You’ll get through this, alright?”

You give a small smile. However, your mental state did not display the same sentiment. Your mind was reeling from what had happened in the last- what, 10? 15 minutes? 

Donna leads you out the back staircase as a gesture of mercy. She knew that you didn’t want anyone else to see you like this. Harvey wasn’t exaggerating his view of you. Everyone in the office saw you as an unbreakable force.

Harvey’s driver opens the door for you. You look back at Donna, who is smiling sweetly. “I promise, Harvey will take care of everything. The only thing you need to worry about is taking care of yourself, okay?” 

You gave Donna the same small smile you gave Harvey. You were at the edge of your sanity at this point. Now that you’ve gone through all the sadness and shock of the... situation, you were embarrassed. Angry. Angry at yourself for letting a man put his hands on you for a full year. Angry at Donna for knowing exactly what was going on and getting exactly what was needed. Angry at Harvey Specter for being so goddamn perfect that you couldn’t help the butterflies that always arose in your stomach whenever he talked to you. Angry at the world for putting you in this position.

Wordlessly, you exited the car once it stopped in front of Harvey’s building. You reached his apartment without thought. You took your heels off, and put your purse on the closest counter you saw. 

And you cried.

_______

 Harvey exited the elevator with a large box held in his hands. It was purely full of necessities. A week's change of clothes, toiletries, some books he knew were your favorite. Everything else he could buy new. He looked down and saw your heels on the ground and your purse on the table beside him.

Once he set down the box on the floor, he saw you. You looked even worse than at the office. Your beautiful hair was frizzy and pulled in odd directions. The worst part was the absolutely destroyed look on your face. Eyeshadow and liner were smudged on your red tinged eyes which stared into space in front of you. 

Harvey sees your body stiff as a board on the edge of his soft couch, seemingly ready to run at a moment’s thought. “Have you been sitting like that since you got here?”

“No. I’ve only just sat down.” Your arms leaned on your knees, hands folded in your lap.

Harvey tries to ignore the hoarse sound in your voice. “Well, you can relax a bit if you’d like. I got you some more comfortable clothes if you want to change.”

Your brows furrow as you think. “Did he give you any problems?” For the first time since he came in the front door you look at him. He was visibly more relaxed than he is in the office. His suit jacket was tossed on the coat rake next to the door and the sleeves of his dress shirt were neatly folded up his arms. He walked towards the kitchen to the freezer. 

“He didn’t get a chance. Don’t worry, he won’t hurt you again.” He walks over to where you’re sitting on the couch and sets down an ice pack. His shirt was obviously wrinkled, and his knuckles held the slightest tinge of blue. The thought of Harvey hurting someone made your stomach flip, but you didn’t feel quite so bad for the receiving party.

“Let’s get some ice on that shoulder, huh?” He could tell you were still sensitive, but it felt more subdued than the scared woman he saw in his office.

You nodded in agreement about the ice pack. You hadn’t really stopped to think about it until he said something. As you unbutton your shirt to reveal your nude colored undershirt, you wince. The swelling of the bruise had gotten worse since you hadn’t taken anything for it. You hadn’t noticed the pain when you were crying, but now it just felt terrible.

“Let me help.” You give Harvey a look when the words come out of his mouth, a glimpse of that fiery woman that he knows. But you sigh and relent. You managed to undo a few buttons at least before Harvey steps in.

He unbuttons your shirt down to your stomach and pulls the shoulder of the shirt down just enough to slide the ice pack onto the skin. As soon as it’s securely placed between you and the couch, you let out a groan. In relief or pain, you don’t know. All you knew was that the cold felt absolutely wonderful on your swelled skin.

You and Harvey stay like that for a while, the exact amount of minutes you don’t know and neither does he. Harvey is the first to speak.

“You’ve been awfully quiet.” 

You give him a look that says “I wonder why, dumbass.” But you refrain. “I’m thinking.”

He finally sits next to you on the couch and reaches his arm to grasp the top of the cushions. In his mind he excuses it as getting more comfortable, but the opportunity to touch you is also a bonus. Harvey was not a man of wise words for comfort, moreso actions and touch.

In a singsong voice, trying to lighten the mood, he says “Whatcha thinkin’ about.”

You smile a true smile and look towards him. Then the thoughts in your head come rushing in and the smile falls from your face. “I’m thinking about how I’ve been with him for so long that I don’t know how to live my life without him. So much of my life has been conforming to his ideals, his feelings. How am I supposed to love and be loved after him? After I’ve split my soul into so many pieces that I’ve lost track of where they all are?”

Both of you sit in silence, not sure what to say.

“I was definitely not expecting that.”

“I am... extremely sorry I said that, please just ignore-”

“I wasn’t finished, sweetheart. Firstly, I think you should see a professional about these feelings. But in the meantime, we can work on that together.” Harvey smiles, but then falters. “I- I mean, if you want. I’m not trying to get in your pants, I promise, all I’m saying is that I’m here whenever and you can stay as long as you want and-”

“Thank you, Harvey. It means a lot to hear you say that.” You laugh at the sight of a flustered Harvey Specter.

“To paraphrase, you're not alone in this. Not ever.”

You reach over with your good arm and pull him into as much of a hug as you can muster. In return, he pulls you close. Neither of you ever want to leave.

#xreader #harvey specter #harvey specter x reader #harvey specter x fem!reader #fanfiction #fics by foxbee #suits #fics #harvey specter/reader #harveyspecter/fem!reader #harvey specter/you

[allywthsr]

TRAVELING HOME | (l.norris)

summary: you and Lando travel home for Christmas

wordcount: 1.2k words

pairing: landonorris x fem!reader

warnings: none!

notes: read this please, I don’t know when the rest is coming out, I’m writing as fast as I can 🫶🏼

advent calendar

”Lando, do you have everything?“

You two were standing in your hallway with the luggage and backpacks, ready to fly home. Or at least to Lando’s home. This year was the Norris‘ turn of hosting the Christmas dinner and morning, your family would join you tomorrow.

”I think so.“

”You think or you know?“

”Uhm, I think that I know.“

”I‘m gonna check again.“

You shook your head with a smile, you were anxious. Anxious that you would forget something, you didn’t care about clothes because you could borrow some from Lando, but if you would forget a present, that would be fatal. You couldn’t exactly just pop over and get it, so you check at least five times if you packed them, before closing the suitcase. For one last time, you went into the guest room to check it for remaining presents, the bed was empty, under the bed too, just like the closet and the floor. The guest room was where you kept every present and wrapped them too, Lando didn’t help you at all with the wrapping, but you knew he wasn’t good at it.

The first two Christmas you got presents that were self-wrapped, and boy did they look funny, the wrapping was all over the place and it was more wonky than straight, and let’s not start with the amount of tape he used to secure the paper. Now he gets it wrapped immediately in the store he buys it from, or lets his mum wrap it. You always told him you didn’t care what it looked like wrapped, as long it came from the heart, but he was fed up with Oliver making fun of his (non-existent) skills.

After double-checking the guest room, and the office, because you had to make sure no one placed anything there, you went back to Lando to the hallway and grabbed your suitcase after pulling on your winter jacket.

”Do you really have anything? Toothbrush?“

”Put it in my bag this morning.“

”Underwear?“

”I brought enough, I hope you didn’t bring any, makes it more thrilling.“

”Gross! Beanies?“

”More than enough. Calm down, will you? We’re flying to my parents, they have stuff from me still in my room, and even you‘ve left clothes there.“

You let out a shaky breath.

Lando opened his arms and you fell into them, holding him close to you. You wanted everything to be perfect, you loved Christmas and it should run smoothly.

”But we really have to leave now.“

You nodded and let go of him, opening the door and walking through it, Lando locked the door and you stepped into the elevator. Outside of your building, a taxi was waiting for you, you two got in and it drove you to the Nice airport.

Lando had a cap on his head and a hoodie, trying to disguise, so he wouldn’t get recognized by people. Normally he always took his time with taking pictures and talking, but you’re already late, and he wanted you to be safe, mobs of people didn’t care about you, and more than once it happened, that you were pushed and shoved until you were crying.

You gave up your bags and made your way to the security check-in, the line wasn’t long, so you didn’t have to wait as long as you thought. The duty-free section was something you always admired, you always bought a little snack for the plane ride, sometimes it was some gummy bears or a chocolate bar, but Lando always had a bite, or multiple, not that you would tell Jon about it. But now, it didn’t matter, Lando was free for the next few months and could devour a whole Kinder bar pack and no one would care, he still needed to work out a few times a week, but it was less stressful.

You still had about thirty minutes until boarding would start, so you sat down in a quiet corner and talked about the most random things, your head was lying on his shoulder and his hand was gripping your thigh, stroking it gently every now and then. You loved cuddling with Lando, it was your favorite thing to do with him, even in public.

When the flight was announced, Lando and you slowly made your way to the counter, you avoided the big crowds, just in case someone recognized Lando or you. Scanning the pass quickly, you two walked through the long tunnel with your backpacks in your bags, where important stuff was packed. The plane was packed, so Lando pulled his cap further in his face and hoodie higher, so he could hide his face more. Luckily you didn’t have to walk for long through the plane, Lando booked business class tickets. You tried to tell him, you two didn’t need this, but what Lando wanted, he got. That was his Ariana Grande ’I want it, I got it‘ moment.

He insisted you two flew in business class, because, one, you didn’t need to walk through the whole plane and the chance of getting recognized was smaller, and two, you had more legroom, which he loved. But you let him buy it, because it was his money, and he could spend it on whatever he wanted.

When the plane was in the air, and you were settled in comfortably, you couldn't wait to get home, even if it was Lando’s home, it was still home. The smell of Christmas always smelt different when the whole family was there, especially because Cisca went big on Christmas. Tons of cookies were waiting for you, hot chocolates and teas as well, and let’s not forget the beautiful Christmas dinner and breakfast she always did. And that your family also came, made things even better. Normally you would’ve hosted Christmas, but the flat was way too small for everyone to fit in, and Monaco was expensive, the hotel costs would’ve been unnecessary.

”I can’t wait to be home, see everyone.“

You hummed and thought about the last Christmas you spent there, it was the second Christmas you two were together and you decided you wanted to spend it together. The Norris‘s hosted it and it was like you always joined them, everyone had a small gift for you, they all welcomed you beautifully in the family, not that they hadn’t before, but now it felt official, and the whole mood was perfect.

When you arrived, you quickly got off the plane, to avoid the other people and waited for the luggage at the strap, of course, yours came almost at the end, you couldn’t wait to get out of the airport. London Heathrow was busy, very busy. While walking next to the big crowds and lines, you could hear mumbling ’Is that Lando Norris?‘ but you only pulled more on his hand and you two were almost sprinting through the halls, wanting to reach the exit where Oliver was kindly waiting to pick you up.

You greeted him with a hug, Lando did the same and you quickly got in his car and you were driving home for Christmas.

#lando norris #lando norris imagine #formula 1 #lando norris x you #lando norris x reader #lando norris fluff #lando norris x y/n #lando x reader #lando norris one shot #lando imagine #christmas

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 45

part 1 | part 44 | ao3

Nancy, Jonathan, and some guy with the longest hair Steve's ever seen are standing in a loose circle with Eddie and his bandmates, talking and sort of dance-nodding along to The Power of Love by Huey Lewis (a fact that Steve absolutely intends to mock his boyfriend for the second he gets the chance), and Steve, like, mentally girds his loins.

He and Jon are cool with each other, and he and Eddie are obviously, uh, plenty warmed up to one another by now, but the rest of them...

One's a stranger, one's an ex who seems drunk as shit and is currently so invested in spinning around to the music that she hasn't opened her eyes to notice him, and the other three are thawing to him at a truly glacial pace. Steve hasn't so much as been invited to watch a rehearsal yet because Eddie's 'still working on them' and needs 'a bit more time, but don't worry, they'll come around.'

They don't openly scowl when he and Robin approach, though, so Steve takes that as a win.

"Harrington!" Eddie calls, bowing deeply to add, "Lady Buckley."

Steve would feel stung by the surname if not for how downright giddy Eddie sounds. God, he loves tipsy Eddie; fucking Disney cartoon boy.

"Munson," he plays along, giving him a sly grin and a shoulder bump as he sidles up next to him. "Didn't know you were allowed to leave the basement at these things."

Jeff interrupts his air-guitaring to glare at Steve, bur Eddie holds out a hand and assures him that Steve's just fucking around. Before Steve can apologize or defend himself, Long Hair Guy leans in across the circle, his eyes wide and intense and bloodshot to hell.

"Dude," he greets. "You have. Such beautiful hair."

Steve barks a laugh. Robin rolls her eyes. Jonathan also rolls his eyes, but it seems more fond and less annoyed. "Can't take you anywhere," he mutters to the guy, then asks them, "You guys met Argyle yet?"

Steve holds out a hand. Confusion washes over him as he processes what Jonathan just said. "Uh." Argyle. "Like the sweater?"

"Yeah, man," Argyle smiles, dopey and slow. Sure. The guy in head-to-toe tie-dye and a neon green fanny pack is named Argyle. Why not? "My parents wanted a sheep, but they got me, instead."

Jonathan laughs like it's the funniest joke he's ever heard. Steve's pretty sure he's too sober for this conversation.

They exchange handshakes, and Robin asks if she can touch the guy's hair, and they all slip into easy, friendly conversation, naturally splintering into smaller groups of twos and threes. Steve's just getting the rundown on all the 'sick new gear' the band got for Christmas when the song changes, and god, this night just could not get better.

"Oh, fuck off!" Eddie groans in the DJ's direction.

Steve has to practically swallow his lips to keep himself from cackling, and then he gives up and does it, anyway, because Eddie looks like he just sucked a lemon while watching a dog die as his bandmates all start sing-shouting along. "We're talking away..."

"No." Eddie wheels around and points a finger at Steve, because Steve's singing, too.

Steve just sings louder. "I don't know what, I'm to say!"

"Oh, my god." He scrubs a hand down his face, dragging the skin down until Steve can see the pale pink of his inner eyelid. "Nobody I know has any goddamn taste!"

"Maybe you don't have any taste!" Robin teases, bouncing around and swinging her arms haphazardly to the music.

Nancy backs her up with a mumbled "Yeah!" but she's still spinning around in such tight circles that Steve doubts she has a single clue what's happening in the argument right now. Which is kind of endearing, actually. He likes how willing she is to stick up for people.

The chorus kicks in; Gareth air-drums the switch to half time just before Frank does an honestly super impressive falsetto of 'in a day or twoooooo', and Eddie despairs while Steve laughs his fucking head off.

—

part 46

tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

#trailer park steve au #steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #jonathan byers #argyle stranger things #corroded coffin #my writing #my fic

[mothhball]

omg drabble request for jonathan crane pls 🤭🤭 reader is sick and he takes care of her because he’s a doctorrrrr and he’s all doting and loving with her at home pls !!!

Those Little Things

Pairing | Jonathan Crane x Reader

Warnings | none. This is just pure fluff. Jonathan is still sassy because it’s him.

Summary | Feeling under the weather? Luckily, you’re in the hands of a doctor.

Words | 1k

Notes | thanks so much for the request!! <3

It started off deceptively slow. A soreness in your throat that you tried to explain away by having slept with an open mouth. An ache in your bones that must've been because you ran to catch the subway a few too many times. A fatigue that... just comes from living in Gotham in general, you suppose. But with each passing day, those little symptoms seem to multiply, and unbeknownst to you, someone has been keeping track. When you finally start to sniffle, that someone has enough.

Jonathan sets down the book he's been reading, fixing you with a worried yet annoyed frown from his side of the couch that makes you feel like a deer in the headlights. A deer with a stuffy nose, that is.

"You're infuriating," he states, placing a bookmark between the pages of his literature so he can fold his arms over his chest.

"Huh?" you rasp, trying to swallow the feeling of sandpaper in your throat. God, you even sound sick. Your boyfriend narrows his eyes at you, tapping his fingers on his arm in an unhappy little rhythm.

"Alright, enough of this. You're going to bed," he declares, not leaving any room for debate. With a gentle touch, he pulls you off of the couch and up to your feet, pausing to check your temperature with the back of his hand. His frown deepens.

"You're hot."

"Now isn't the time to flirt, Jon." You chuckle, cringing at the rough sound.

"Not like - ugh. You're impossible." Jonathan tries to fight against the smile that pulls at the corners of his lips, but it's a futile effort, and you both share a chuckle as he maneuvers you into the bedroom. His hand on the small of your back is warm, and you lean your head on his shoulder for comfort. The slowly rising fever makes you shiver, and if you had your way, you'd turn up the heater to the highest setting. But Jonathan has different plans.

"We need to lower your temperature, love," he says, helping you to sit down on the bed. "Get under the covers, I'll open the window."

You barely have time to shield yourself with the blanket before the cool, fresh air wafts into the room, accompanied by the smell of petrichor and the ever-present sounds of the rainy city. Jonathan stays next to the window for a moment, peering outside. You have the privilege of living in the universe district - a leftover perk from his days as a professor. But more importantly: where there are students, there are conveniently placed stores. With conveniently placed items that might aid your recovery.

Jonathan turns, and his lips part to say something when he stops himself at the sight of you. You're completely wrapped in the down comforter, covered right up to the tip of your nose. There’s something so precious to this moment. You definitely look sick, yes. But it’s you. The person he treasures, completely authentic and real. If he wasn't already whipped for you, he'd be now.

"Someone's getting comfortable," he teases, and steps over to your side of the bed to sit down on the mattress. Jonathan's eyes soften, and he gently pushes some hair out of your forehead.

"I'll go out to get a few things, okay? I won't be long, I promise. Just try to rest until then."

You nod in response, already feeling how heavy your eyelids have become. Your boyfriend caresses your cheek with his knuckles before he forces himself to stand. If he could, he'd jump right into bed with you, but that wouldn't be helpful for your recovery. No, he has to be the analytical one right now. And as much as he hates to see you under the weather, he enjoys the chance to fuss over you in his own way.

You don't even know how long he's been gone, but you awake to the sound of the window being closed and the crinkling of plastic bags. Multiple plastic bags. It takes a moment until you're able to crack your eyes open, but you're rewarded with the sight of Jonathan loading up your bedside table with various items.

"Okay, let's see," he starts, vaguely reminding you of a coach before the big game. You watch in silent awe as he unpacks the bags, revealing the items he got for you one by one.

"Take some ibuprofen first. I also got you those tissues with the eucalyptus balm to clear your sinuses a little faster. You said your nose doesn't get as raw from that brand, right?"

"Yeah." A smile grows on your face, and as you try to sit up, Jonathan momentarily pauses his unpacking to help you before he gets right back to it.

"Perfect. I also got you some chicken noodle soup from that Vietnamese place you like. I wish I could cook that up from scratch, but you'd still like theirs better, so why even compete."

He carefully places the container of soup in your lap along with a spoon, and the warm, comforting smell of Pho hits you right in the face as soon as you open the lid. Jonathan went all out, and when you look up at him, you find him staring back expectantly.

"Thank you, Jon. Truly. You're so sweet..." He waves off your gratitude, carefully sitting down next to you.

"No need to thank me," is what he says, but you can see how his eyes light up. A task well done. He scoots a little closer to press a tender kiss to your brow. "But you should've told me sooner," he scolds, making your cheeks turn a little pink.

"You have a lot on your plate already. I didn't want to add to it," you murmur, looking down at the soup in your lap with hungry eyes.

"Oh, I'll gladly add you to my plate any day, love. And you should trust me a little more to take care of you. I'm a doctor." He reaches out to take the plastic cover off of your spoon.

"Yeah, but only of psychology, Jon." His eyebrows raise for a moment and his hands freeze, but then he spots that tiny upwards twitch of your lips that shows him you're just teasing him. Oh, you’re infuriating. And it’s the best thing in the world.

"... I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that."

tags: @ellebelleshelby @cilliansprincess @mcumorningstar @x0xomady @mandies24 @detroitbecomevenom @pretty-bluebird @ink5ouls (couldn't tag) @flwrs4aust @vampmary1411 @ashdrinksoatmilk @luvizuku @nnattu @ptolemaniac @kiss-me-cill-me @celebrities-imagines @hanawrites404

#jonathan crane x reader #cillian murphy x reader #jonathan crane #.moth writes

[atlabeth]

weight of the world

series masterlist

pairing: luke castellan x daughter of poseidon!reader

summary: percy returns to camp after a successful quest. luke battles his guilt.

a/n: a lot of you guys seemed to like the percy pov and the pure angst of luke doing all this stuff to his first love's brother percy jackson instead of just percy jackson and first and foremost i would like to say you're all crazy but i also agree. so here you go. title from the jon bellion song

wc: 5.6k

warning(s): reader is dead (i feel like i have to tag this every time lmao). angst made angstier with fluffy flashbacks. tlt betrayal scene (pit scorpion edition). everyone is so sad

When Percy returned to camp with Annabeth and Grover, they were hailed as heroes. 

It might not have felt like it on the road, isolated with just the three of them, but they’d prevented a third World War. They certainly stopped camp from getting destroyed, if what Luke told them was true about the cabins taking sides. 

Burning their burial shrouds felt even better, especially with the Ares cabin’s expert craftsmanship. Apparently it was a tradition because demigods died so frequently on quests—Percy took pride in breaking that unsettling standard. 

It turned out all he needed to come into his own was to go on a quest everyone thought would kill him and not die. 

He excelled during his sword fighting lessons—going against a god would do that for you—he’d gotten much better at using his powers—going against a god would also do that for you—and his team always dominated on the lake during races, though that might’ve just been him cheating. 

He’d even started getting used to the Poseidon cabin in all its emptiness. It still felt too lonely, but he was working on it. The first thing he did when he got back to the cabin was pin your photo on the wall—Cabin Three belonged to you as much as it did to him.

And of course, everyone wanted to hear about how Percy saved the world. He’d told the story of his quest about a hundred times since he got back, sometimes with Annabeth piping in to set the record straight, sometimes with Grover dramatically setting the scene, always with a million different questions in between about how everything went down. 

Tonight was no different in the amphitheater—a group of Athena kids wanted to hear about his fight against Ares again—but he managed to get out of giving them the excruciating play-by-play courtesy of campfire songs. Percy didn’t really mind, though—any night with a large, golden fire was a good night in his books. 

Which was kind of how he ended up giving Luke the play-by-play of his quest. Maybe it was bragging, but he hadn’t seen who he considered his first friend at camp in a while. And yeah, sue him, but he wanted to impress Luke. He was cool and nice and good at everything, and Percy wanted to prove he’d made him proud. 

“—And I thought I didn’t stand a chance, but she taunted me and told me to jump into the water if I was really Poseidon’s kid. So I did, and it worked, and somehow I lived.” Percy shook his head with a slight laugh. “It ended up all over the news. I was a nationally wanted criminal for a couple days. We also blew a bus up, and rode with a zebra and a lion to Vegas, and went to the Underworld— gods, we did so much. It was crazy, honestly.” 

Luke chuckled. “I’m sure.” 

Percy glanced over at him, his brows creasing when he saw his distant gaze. He didn’t think Luke heard a single word. “You good, man?” 

He blinked and focused back on Percy, and though he smiled it was strained. “Yeah. Sorry—spaced out for a second. You were talking about your quest?” 

Percy nodded slowly. “Yeah. The whole criminal thing.” 

His smile turned a little more genuine. “You made front page news, too. I think you became the idol of a lotta kids here.”

“Oh, god,” he said with a frown. “You guys get news here?” 

“Couple New York papers,” he nodded. “You’re camp-famous.” 

Percy huffed a laugh and shook his head. “It feels crazy. I just got here a month ago, and everything’s already changed so much.” He looked over at Luke. “What did you do after you got home from your quest?” 

“...It takes some getting used to,” he admitted with a shrug. “I mean, getting to camp after so many years on the road was rough—coming back to camp after getting this—” he tapped his scar— “didn’t help.” 

“How did you get that?” he asked. 

“You’re always trying to get the saddest stories out of me,” Luke said wryly. “You know you can read books, right?” 

“I can’t, actually,” Percy said. "Not well."

Luke laughed and shook his head, his gaze falling back to the fire. Percy took it as him moving on. 

“I— I know I’m kind of proving your point, but… I wanted to ask you if I could have a couple more pictures” Percy cleared his throat, brushing a few dark strands of hair out of his face. “Of my sister, I mean. Obviously, you have way more of a right to them than I do, but— but Cabin Three’s a little bare. I thought adding a couple current things to the old stuff she put up would be nice.” 

His throat bobbed, and it took him a second, but he nodded. “Yeah. Yeah— sure.”

“Tomorrow after breakfast?” he asked. “I’ve got some free time before I have to go down to the forge.”

Luke nodded again. “Sure. You still have that picture I gave you?”

“Of course,” he said. “I already put it up on the wall. Do you want it back?”

His smile was bittersweet as he shook his head. “Nah. Like I said, you deserve to have a piece of her with you. And I’m sure she’d say the same.”

“I asked my dad about her, y’know,” Percy said. Luke’s eyes widened a bit as he looked back at him. “I went to Olympus on my own to return Zeus’s bolt, and the two of them were there. My dad and I got some alone time, and…” he shrugged. “I already annoyed two gods that day. Figured a third wouldn’t be that crazy.”

“What did he say?” 

“That it was one of his greatest regrets,” Percy said. “And he’d never forgive himself for letting her die, and for what it did to her mom.” He glanced at Luke. “And to you.”

Luke’s chest stilled, his gaze going out of focus for a moment as a muscle worked in his jaw. He hid it well, but Percy knew. He’d spent enough time at home with his mom and step-dad, overheard enough one-sided arguments. 

“You’re braver than me,” he finally said, and he stood up. “I’m gonna turn in—it’s been a long day.”

“I’m sorry, Luke,” he said. “And Poseidon is too, for whatever it’s worth.” 

Luke didn’t look back at him as he started towards the path. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Percy.” 

-

“Are you sure you’re allowed to put lights up?” Luke asked. 

“Okay, Chiron,” you said cloyingly. “I didn’t know you were such a stickler for the rules.” 

“I’m just worried about fire safety!” he exclaimed. “The Hephaestus kids nearly burn down their cabin at least five times a week.” 

“They’re working with actual fire. These are just Christmas lights.” You glanced down at him and he handed you the next strand. “Besides, this is the safest cabin for possible fire hazards. And they look pretty—that’s all that matters.” 

Luke chuckled as you hung them up, and he took a step back as you jumped off the chair and moved it to the other side of the room. You usually hung fairy lights, but with the holidays just around the corner, you wanted to make the place more festive. You asked Luke if he wanted to hang out with you while you decorated, and he obviously accepted. He took all the time he could get with you. 

“It’s so quiet in here,” Luke said as you got back up, taking the next strand with you. “I’m not used to an empty cabin.” 

“That’s what happens when you’re not supposed to be alive,” you mused. 

“You of all people can’t say that.” He huffed a laugh and shook his head. “Do you ever get lonely in here?” 

“‘Course not,” you said. “I’ve always got you following me around.” 

“Can you blame me?” he asked. “Your company’s the best.” 

You grinned and looked back down at him, and Luke gave you the next string of lights. “Or maybe you’re just a little crazy. You’ve gotta be to spend three years on the road with me.” 

“Being around you is what’s kept me sane,” he corrected. “Especially in the Hermes cabin of chaos.” 

You got up on your toes and lifted a leg up so you could lean to reach the last hook. “Oh, come on. Your siblings are so fun to be around!” 

“Maybe in small doses,” he said wryly. “And be careful, gods—” 

You looked down at him, your grin only growing. “Are you saying you’re worried about me?” 

“Always,” he said, still watching you, “but the last thing you need is to break your leg.” 

“It’s a five foot fall, Luke,” you said, amused as you got back on even footing. You hopped back down and tilted your head. “I’ve survived much higher falls.” 

Luke frowned. “You don’t get to joke about that.” 

“I thought you were dead too,” you defended. “That means it’s fair game.” 

His chest twisted. He’d played that day over in his head thousands of times since he first lost you, wondering if he could have done something different or if he should have searched more—he stayed in those woods for a week and a half searching for you before another monster attack forced him out of the area. It was the whole reason he came up with a designated meeting area with Thalia and Annabeth if they got separated—he never wanted to lose someone again the way he lost you. 

He shook his head with a sigh. “Sometimes I still can’t believe it, y’know? 

“Thank my dad,” you said. “I would have died if I didn’t fall into water. And he’s the reason I got to camp.” 

He’s also the reason you ended up on the streets in the first place, Luke wanted to say, but he held his tongue. You’d never shared his disdain for the gods, and he didn’t want to spoil your mood with his bitterness. 

So he doesn’t. He tilted his head and focused back on you. “Do I ever tell you how thankful I am that you're still alive?”

You smiled as you pushed the chair in front of your desk. “I could always stand to hear it more.” 

“Well, I’m thankful that you’re alive,” Luke said. He could have stared at your smile forever. “Mourning you was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.” 

“With any luck, you won’t have to do it again,” you joked. “I get it, though. Sometimes it feels like a dream. I thought I was hallucinating when you came over that hill.”  

The best and the worst day of his life—he found you again and lost Thalia in the same five-minute span. It wasn’t fair—Luke had told Thalia so many stories about you, and she was the one that brought him back from the edge your supposed death sent him to. On his worst days, Luke blamed himself for both. 

“Luke,” you said, jarring him out of his thoughts. “What do you think of the lights? Tacky, or festive, or both?” 

He blinked, then took a step back with you so you could get the full view. He nodded. “Festive, definitely. Where’d you even get them?” 

“The Big House attic,” you said. “It’s not just full of Oracles and spoils of war.” 

He chuckled. “And how did you convince Chiron to give you those?” 

You shrugged. “You know I’m persuasive.” 

Luke shook his head. “I’m jealous. No one else really gets to decorate their place like this.” 

“No siblings means full creative control,” you mused. “And Big Three dad means a big cabin all for me.” 

“And yet you still get a twin bed,” he said with a smile. “We’re all equal, really.” 

“Like you wouldn’t prefer a full.” You fluffed your pillow then set it back down. “You spend as much time in here as I do.” 

“Can you blame me?” Luke shrugged. “There’s no privacy there. We can get away with basically anything in here.” 

“And because you love me,” you said cloyingly as you rustled your hair with his hand. 

“Yeah,” he said with a smile. “I really do.” 

Your smile widened and you gestured at your box of decorations. “Wanna prove it, loverboy? Help me get the rest of this up before sword lessons.”

“Y’know, I’m leading them today,” Luke said, picking up a stack of snowflake cutouts. He was pretty sure you just took all the rejects after you were in charge of the crafts for a week. “Technically, that means we’ve got as long as we want.” 

“Oh, Luke Castellan,” you said airily, pressing a hand to your chest. “You know the way to my heart.” 

-

“Oh,” Percy said. “Wow.” 

“Yeah. And this is only one of them.” Luke set a cardboard box full of things on an empty bed and sighed. “She made this place her own while she was here.”

Percy took out a stack of baseball cards on top—Red Sox, of course, the only bad thing about you—and shuffled through them. “Everything’s a little dusty.” 

“No one really wanted to come in here after she died,” Luke said. He had a tangled mess of Christmas lights in his hands. “All this stuff stayed up for a year or two before I took it all down.” He huffed a mirthless laugh. “You’re probably the only one apart from me to be in here since she left.” 

Percy set the cards down. “Do you mind if I put some of it back up?” 

Luke glanced at him. “Why do you always ask me? This is your place.” 

“It’s not just my place,” he said. “I… I want to make sure I’m honoring her well. And I don’t wanna make it harder for you. Especially if you took it down for a reason.” 

Luke was silent for a moment as he stared at the lights. He brushed off some dust with his thumb. 

Percy felt bad for pushing the matter every time he was around Luke, but there was a tug inside of him—an innate need to know more about her, a desperation to honor her life despite never meeting her. 

“I appreciate it,” he finally said. “But go for it, man. You don’t have to get my permission.” 

Percy nodded, and he took a poster out, wedged in the side of the box. A Blondie poster, based off the huge block letters above a blonde singer stylized in pop art. It had a torn corner, and bits of tape had been folded over some parts of the edges. 

Luke chuckled. “She was a huge Blondie fan. She brought her Walkman when she ran away—I lost count of how many times we listened to Parallel Lines. Definitely put that one back up.” 

Percy nodded and set it on his bed. He looked at the lights in Luke’s hand. “Why’d she have those?” 

“She loved to light the cabin up,” he explained. “Said it made it feel more homey, and she liked to change it with the seasons. And when she enlisted the Aphrodite kids, it was like a— a HomeGoods warzone.” Luke shook his head with the most genuine smile he’d seen all day. “She really was something special.”  

Again, Percy’s heart clenched. It wasn’t fair he only got to learn about you through stories, only through the past tense. If he could get his mom back, why the hell couldn’t he get you back? Why couldn’t his dad have stepped in? 

What good was regret when you have all the power in the world to stop it? What good was being a god if you couldn’t save your family when it mattered most? 

“Y’know, I decorated this place a million times with her,” he said, and Percy was thankful for the interruption with his thoughts. “She wanted it to be a welcoming cabin, open to the whole camp if they ever got homesick.” 

“So the opposite of what it used to be,” Percy said wryly. 

“Yeah,” Luke nodded. “You two are the first Poseidon kids in a long time because of the oath—it was just here for respect. She didn’t just make it into her home, she made it into a home for anyone that needed some extra warmth.” 

Percy looked around, trying to imagine you and a younger, unscarred Luke putting all this stuff on the walls, him helping you hang Christmas lights. You sitting on a bed, maybe what he’d chosen as his bed, talking a younger camper through their fears or their homesickness. You forcing the innate coldness of Cabin Three out and replacing it with warmth of your own. 

“Did you bring any pictures?” he asked. 

Luke nodded again and took a few out of his pockets, offering them to Percy. He took the one sticking out the most and smiled a bit. 

“Very Poseidon of her,” he commented. 

“She loved the beach,” Luke said, smiling wistfully. “No matter what state we were in, she would always try to find one. We could’ve walked twenty miles that day, and the moment she stepped into the water she would be good as new. I should’ve known who her dad was a lot sooner.”

Percy’s hand lingered on the picture he’d just put up. You stood on a sandy shore with your arms spread and head tilted back, and you looked wholly in your element. 

He wondered what you would think of Montauk. 

“This was one of those times?” he asked. 

Luke nodded. “North Carolina. A year and a half in, I think. We missed the East Coast after being in the Midwest for so long, and naturally, she found a beach immediately.” His eyes softened. “She was always so happy around the water, even after she knew what it meant.”

Percy frowned. “What do you mean?”

He shrugged. “Finding out the thing you’ve always loved is the domain of the father who abandoned you is a little rough.” 

Luke always spoke with more nerve towards the gods than any other camper he knew. Funny, considering he was one of the first ones to tell him that names had power.

And he’d been acting weird since Percy got back from the quest. He thought maybe he was jealous, but Luke didn’t really seem like the jealous type—especially when he was already so cool. 

Then again, they did just come back from the brink of a possible world war. Percy should’ve been surprised more people weren’t acting weird. 

His attention drifted to the clock on the wall in the midst of his thoughts—Chiron’s last ditch effort in a camp full of time-blind kids—and his eyes widened. 

Percy muttered under his breath—Annabeth had taught him some Ancient Greek curse words on the road, and he was sure his mom would love them—and looked up at Luke. “Sorry, man. I’ve gotta go. Time really got away from me.” 

“I get it,” he nodded. “Have you gotten any better?” 

He glanced away bashfully. “Not really. But Beckendorf has the patience of a saint. Maybe someday I’ll make an actually functional sword.” 

Luke chuckled, though it was wistful. “Good luck. You mind if I stay here for a bit? I can put up some of her things.” 

“Yeah,” he nodded, “of course. Stay as long as you want.” 

Percy stopped once he got out of the door. Luke’s gaze was glued to a picture of you on the wall, his expression softer than he’d ever seen before at odds with something indistinguishable in his eyes. Again, Percy felt that all-encompassing dread, and he swallowed the lump in his throat. 

He left before it could consume him, but the haunted look in Luke’s eyes didn’t leave his head for the rest of the day. 

-

You took in a deep breath of salty air. The sea breeze blew over you as waves gently rolled into shore, and you smiled. You never felt more like yourself than when you were at the beach, and when you and Luke were constantly on the run fighting for your lives, sometimes you desperately needed to feel like yourself. 

You exhaled long and slow. It had been a particularly rough week—Luke did his best patching up your shoulder, but it would definitely scar—and this was just what you needed to wind down before you started moving again. 

You and your mom went to Cape Cod a lot when you were growing up, and though this wasn’t anywhere close to the same, it made for an alright stand-in.

The click of a polaroid camera interrupted your peace, and you opened your eyes and turned your head to see the culprit. 

“And you made fun of me for constantly taking pictures,” you said wryly. 

Luke smiled. “I made fun of you for taking up valuable space in your bag to bring your camera with you. I can’t not take pictures of you—especially when you’re so photogenic.” 

“Flatterer.” 

“Not if it’s true,” he remarked. He held out the camera to you. “Wanna get any pictures of the sea? You’ve got a better eye than me.” 

“Well, the sea’s a better subject than me,” you said. “Hold onto it.” 

He chuckled and took it back, drying out the newly printed picture. “How’re you feeling, by the way? I know it’s been a hard few days.”  

“Never better,” you said. “I needed a break from the road.”

“I get why you wanted to stop here,” he said. “It’s… calming.”

“Isn’t it?” You spread your arms out, breathing in deep once more. “I always feel better out here. More free.”

Another camera click, and your smile grew. “How do you feel?” 

“Better too, surprisingly. But that might just be because we’re walking instead of running.” You heard his footsteps and he came up next to you. You took the picture he offered and chuckled. You had your head back and your arms spread, soaking up every bit of sun and sea air you could. 

“I look like a stock photo.” 

“Does that mean I can get a job as a photographer?” he asked. “We could use some extra cash.” 

“Half of the pictures are either random parts of nature or me,” you said. “Who’d buy those?” 

“Me,” Luke said. “But I don’t think that would help with our money problems.” 

“All this flattery won’t get you anywhere,” you said. 

“It got me here,” he said. “I think it’s worked out pretty well.” 

You smiled as you looped arms with Luke, and after you gestured with your head, you started walking down the sand together. Whereas you always felt like you were blurting out the first thing that came to mind when you were around him, Luke always knew exactly what to say to make you feel better. “Do you like it here?” 

Luke nodded. “It’s nice. I get why you like the water so much.” 

“At least one beach a week going forward now that we’re on the coast again, then,” you said. “Deal?” 

“Deal,” he agreed. 

“Good,” you said with a smile. “I’ve been wanting to go back to Virginia Beach. Last time, those giant ant things ruined it for us.” 

“Gods,” Luke grumbled, and you felt him shiver. “Don’t remind me of those things. I’ll never forget what their poison smelled like—and I’ll never forgive them for ruining my favorite shirt.” 

“Don’t worry,” you said. “I’ll get you a Red Sox one someday, and it’ll become your new favorite shirt.” 

Luke shook his head. “Your Boston baseball propaganda isn’t gonna work. I was raised as a Yankee.” 

“And I’m here to undo that awful brainwashing,” you said sagely. “Next time we go through Massachusetts, I’ll have to get you one. And we can stop by Cape Cod—I think being close to the water is good for my health.” 

“And I like seeing you happy,” he mused. “So I guess it works out for both of us.” 

You laughed. “We’ll have to stop at a music store before the day ends, too. I’ve nearly worn out my Cyndi Lauper tape, and I need to get some new ones. You should pick out an album you like too.h” 

“‘Course,” he said. “I think we’ve got some extra cash saved up. And if we have to—” 

“We shouldn’t steal anything yet,” you interrupted. “I don’t wanna get the cops on our backs so soon.” 

“You say that like I would get caught,” Luke remarked. “It’s literally in my genes. I’m making my father proud, and I’m helping you. I see no reason not to do it.” 

“Cool it,” you said. “We’re not becoming Bonnie and Clyde at the ripe old age of eleven.” 

“Fine.” You couldn’t see it, but you could sense his smile. “I’ll hold off. For now.” 

That got another laugh out of you as you leaned your head against his shoulder. It felt like you’d been on the run for a week straight—this was the best break you could have asked for. Maybe the sea was good for your health, you thought. Or maybe it was just Luke. 

Either worked for you. 

-

Percy could hardly breathe as he stared down at the scorpion, slowly inching its way up his pants leg. It wasn’t every day one of your friends betrayed and tried to kill you in the woods, but this seemed like the year he started checking things off his bucket list. 

“So this was your plan all along,” he said, attention split between the pit scorpion and the traitor. “Gain my trust, send me to Tartarus, start a war for Kronos.” 

The air got colder, and Luke tilted his head. “You should be careful with names.”

“And you should do the job yourself,” he challenged. “You want to kill me? Fight me like a man.” 

“I’m not Ares,” he said tartly. “You can’t bait me.” 

“So you’re a coward too?” Red hot anger rose within him, and the words left him before he could really think about them. “Did you also lie about my sister? Got a hobby of killing Poseidon kids?”

“Zeus got her killed, Percy!” Luke yelled. There was something wild in his eyes as he gestured with his sword. “I loved her more than anything—I held her as she died, and your dad let it happen. If it weren’t for the gods, both her and Thalia would be alive!” 

Maybe it was a good thing Percy didn’t know that until now. If he knew the king of gods was responsible for his sister’s death, he would’ve gotten himself burnt to a crisp on Olympus. 

“This isn’t what my sister would have wanted,” he said. “She—”

“Don’t you dare talk about her!” His voice continued to rise. “You don’t know her— you don’t know what she would have wanted!” 

“She couldn’t have wanted this!” he exclaimed. Percy’s breath caught momentarily as the scorpion inched closer and he forced his muscles to remain as still as possible as his gaze flicked back over to Luke. “This isn’t the way to fix things, Luke. I promise.” 

He shook his head, and he could have been a son of Ares the way fire seemed to blaze in his eyes. “She died because of Zeus, Percy. She was so close to sixteen, and that meant she was a threat to his power. He sent monsters to kill her, and your dad could have saved her, but he didn’t do a damn thing about it. And y’know,” Luke huffed a laugh, cold and mirthless, “the same thing’s gonna happen to you.” 

His blood had turned to ice. “He knows the pain of losing a daughter. Why would he—” 

“Because they don’t care, Percy!” he yelled, his sword cutting through the air again. “All they care about is keeping their power and their position. Your dad would rather send you on a death quest than stop stroking his ego for one measly second. Hades sent monsters to kill Thalia, and Zeus sent monsters to kill your sister—they can’t punish each other, so they punish us, and the cycle will never stop until we make it stop.”

“And you think that this is the way to do it?” he asked desperately. “By betraying camp and all your friends? We’re in the same position as you are!” 

“And anyone that’s smart will join our cause,” Luke said. “Do you really think I’m the only one that’s upset with the gods? I’ve been here for five years—I’ve seen kids leave for the school year and never come back. I’ve seen kids die without ever being claimed. My own dad turned me away at every opportunity. Our numbers are bigger than you know, Percy.” 

“You say I don’t know my sister,” Percy said, “but I know her enough to know she wouldn’t want this. Not in her name. Not against our father.” 

“You don’t know her at all,” Luke said, voice trembling. “If she knew that Zeus killed her for nothing but paranoia over a bullshit prophecy, she would be fighting against the gods right beside me.” 

“I lost her once,” he continued, shaky but full of anger, “and then I got her back, just to lose her all over again. The gods will never know that kind of pain—if they did, they wouldn’t have let it happen in the first place.” 

The scorpion was at his knee now. Percy was running out of time, and his mind was working in overdrive on how to get more, but he found himself rendered speechless. What could he say to a boy who’d lost everything? 

Luke was the lightning thief, he’d fully intended to kill Percy with those shoes, he meant to turn the gods against each other and raise Kronos, and now he was really trying to kill him.  

And yet, he couldn’t help but feel sympathy.

Percy thought he’d lost his mother, but now she was back. He’d met his father in person. He had a sister he’d never meet, that he would never be able to fully grieve. Luke loved her and grew up with her and grieved her twice.

Percy didn’t care—anyone who his sister loved couldn’t be a bad person. Not fully.  

“Please, Luke,” he said, voice low. “I don’t know how to solve it, but this isn’t the way. You think the gods are using you? Kronos is doing the exact same thing.” 

“You’re twelve, Percy, and you’re already the chosen one,” Luke said. “Hades and Ares would have both killed you if they got their way, and it was your job to stop a war between the gods because they couldn’t see beyond their egos. How is that fair to you?”  

“There was no other choice,” Percy insisted. “If either of them backed down, they would look weak. We’re the only ones that can do quests like this.” 

“Exactly,” he said. “They start petty fights that they can’t finish and it gets taken out on us. We have to be their heroes, and we have to praise them as we die.”

Percy remembered their bus exploding. Medusa, an innocent woman favored by Poseidon and punished by Athena for it. The endless souls in the Asphodel Fields, and even more waiting in line for their chance to be judged. Luke’s quest given to him by his father permanently scarring him, Thalia Grace sacrificing herself for her friends, his sister never getting the chance to see sixteen—Percy himself being used as a pawn to enact Kronos’s plan. 

“You don’t have to be a hero,” Luke continued, almost begging at this point. “You can join our cause—you can prove you’re so much more than the prophecies want you to be. Say the word and I’ll call it off.”

Percy wasn’t exactly the pinnacle of godly respect. He tricked Hades, insulted Zeus, and actually fought Ares. But his dad loved him—or loved his mom, at least. Annabeth’s determination and Grover’s steadfastness and all the friends he’d made at camp—all innocent children like himself. He couldn’t turn his back on that. 

Percy clenched his jaw. “I will never serve Kronos.”

Pain flashed in Luke’s dark eyes, but he shut it down just as soon. “So be it.”

He slashed his sword through the air and a ripple of darkness appeared, the void bleeding into the forest. 

“I really am sorry it came to this, Percy,” Luke said quietly. “But it’ll be quick. And that’s a bigger mercy than Zeus gave your sister.”

Luke disappeared into the darkness and it vanished soon after. Percy didn’t have time to think about his words—the scorpion had reached his thigh. Sixty seconds, Luke had said, then it was over. 

Percy had about five seconds to think of a plan before it lunged at him. He batted it away with one hand and uncapped his sword with the other, cutting the scorpion in half before it could reach the ground. 

He thought he did it. Then he looked at his hand, a red welt already sweltering on his palm, oozing sticky yellow liquid. 

Percy stumbled to the creek and submerged his hand, but nothing happened. He muttered a delusional prayer to his dad, then to his mother, then to you as he stumbled his way towards camp. Nymphs emerged from their trees, and he croaked a plea for help. 

As Percy collapsed, barely caught by nymphs on either side, he swore that he saw you. Did that mean he was dying? You had kind eyes like his mother, an aura of warmth unlike the feverish heat in his body, and it made the idea of it a lot less scary. 

He wondered if he’d meet you in Elysium. 

Percy reached a leaden arm out to you, mumbling your name despite his cottonmouth, and then his vision went black. 

#the difference between luke w hurricane and luke post hurricane hurts me and im the one in charge of this whole operation #makes me feel a little crazy tbh #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan fic #luke castellan angst #percy jackson and the olympians x reader #pjo x reader #x reader #daughter of poseidon #child of poseidon #sadie writes

[devine-fem]

How would batfam react to Damijon?

I need more damijon centered batfam content grrr

Dick: Did not expect it but is wholeheartedly supportive that Damian has decided to try and date more people especially it being Jon who he thinks would be good for him.

Jason: He’s all for it but he’s like brainless wingman. He’s one of those guys who through the kids into the water when their first learning how to swim and smiling upon their evident struggle.

Tim: Damian being also queer was one of his biggest fears come to life. Either that or he was the one who could had sworn everyone knew they were a thing.

Duke: Could tell because Jon kept reoccurring in Damian’s paintings and sketches and Damian would often mention him so Duke’s world has gone unchanged.

Stephanie: People may think she’s hinged but I swear she’d be the one to snag kryptonite and interrogate the poor guy to make sure he treats Damian right.

Cassandra: Fully complaint and supportive… to Stephanie 😭

Babs: “Which one is Jon again?”

Damian: Yes, he’s also here because sometimes it surprises him that he’s with Jon too.

Bruce: He didn’t know shit about any of this until their wedding and now he’s walking around the wedding venue and looking dumb and asking dumber questions like Susie’s apparition in lovely bones…

“How did I get here?” “What happened?” “I was so young…” “WHY DID IT HAVE TO BE HIM?”

#jondami #super sons #damian wayne #jon kent #supersons #jonathan kent #damijon #dc comics #batfam #batfamily #asks #dick grayson