#how can a millionaire make me melt like this...

[flyingfabio]

FRENCH GP 2024 - Fabio Quartararo and Johann Zarco play a game with Canal+ on on Thursday

[envy-of-the-apple]

Moon Starves Sun (FULL VERSION)

Dark!Gojo Satoru x reader

Word Count: 5.8k

Part one: Sun Eats Moon

Part two: Earth Kills Moon

(Warnings: forced relationship, implied nsfw content, implied noncon/dubcon, dark content, implied baby trapping)

When Satoru's close like this, he can hear your heartbeat. 

It's been a while. Ten years. An entire decade. Everything about this is different, yet so familiar. He feels like he's finally reached the shores, feeling the warm sands underneath his feet. Like he's been given his favorite food after being starved for years. Everything melts. Everything except for you. 

He'd like to stay like this forever, listening to your rabbit heartbeat, feeling your soft skin, but for your sake, he pulls himself off you. Lying on a wooden desk probably isn't that comfortable. 

Your eyes are shut. Your breathing is shallow. You're so pretty like this under the moonlight. Your clothes are barely hanging onto your body. He can see every mark he's left on you. Part of him wants to make more, but he'll let you off the hook for now. He's nice like that. 

"Still with me?" 

Your eyes flutter open. You don't respond, but at least you're not crying anymore. He can work with that. 

"C'mon, pretty girl," he says, voice soft, "let's piece you back together." 

The belt left lines on your wrists. He'll kiss them better later. For now, Satoru collects your clothes and heels from the floor, placing them on the desk. He helps you reclasp your bra, runs his fingers on your arms when you finish buttoning your blouse. It's a quiet affair. Every so often, he'd catch your eyes. You don't let yourself linger for long. Satoru finds that a little cute. 

You say nothing when he wraps an arm around your waist, guiding you out of his office. Maybe you're still dazed, still gathering yourself back up, because you don't struggle as much as he predicted. You try to leave his grip when the two of you reach the lobby. He's quick to stop you. 

"Where, do you think you're goin'?" He grips your wrist when you take a step away. 

You look at him, eyes shimmering like water. 

You swallow. "My apartment. I—I need to go back—" 

He clicks his tongue, bringing you back in. 

"We can get your stuff later." He tells you with a grin. "let's just go home, tonight. I'm exhausted." 

You open your mouth. Satoru waits. You say nothing, and he thinks you're starting to get it. 

The moon is a dusky red tonight. Satoru thinks it's an ugly color. 

☾

If Satoru could describe you in one word, it would be: predicatable. 

Normal, boring, a speck in the crowd—none of these are bad things. Just like how much of the universe is nothing, you're an empty void, too. Not everyone can be like him. From the minute he was born, Satoru was destined for greatness—a prodigy, heir to a millionaire conglomerate, the Sun itself. His life isn't written on his forehead for everyone to read. 

You are the exact opposite. Completely unassuming. He practically knows everything about you without even having to ask. 

Like how Satoru can instantly tell you've never been over to a boy's room before. 

You've probably never even been in a relationship before him, either. Even before he managed to corral you into his arms, you were always so annoying about the other things like school and friends. Though, you don't really have much of the latter anymore. His fault, Suguru never fails to remind him. 

He watches as your eyes linger over his shelf: the numerous trophies and awards. You're still standing meekly in the corner, still garbed in your school uniform, clutching your backpack. He has to roll his eyes at how obviously you're trying not to look at him. 

"What're you waitin' for?" He finally asks. You jump, eyes flitting over to find him before you find the floor. He resists the urge to roll his eyes again.

It's not like you two haven't done shit before. You sucked him off twice now, and he's finger fucked you against the bleachers. You should really stop being such a prude. 

"C'mere, pretty girl." 

You comply, dropping your bag, making your way to the bed. When you look at him from beneath your lashes, warily expectant, Satoru feels a thrill rushing through his body. 

He's always been impatient. It's in his nature to take. He nips at your mouth, eager to taste your soul from your soft lips. Soft. Everything about you is so soft—Malleable beneath his fingers. 

Satoru didn't explicitly say what his plan was, but you aren't stupid. He can tell you know what's about to happen when you stiffen in his hold, turn to stone within his grip. He would've allowed it if you hadn't gripped onto his shirt, pulling yourself away from his feasting. 

"Satoru?" You whisper, still leaning away. "The door...?" 

Annoyed, he glances over. His room is open. It shouldn't really matter. 

"It's fine." Satoru tells you. "No one's here." No one's ever here. 

You still look panicked, hands gripping his shirt. Satoru finds that adorably pathetic. How helpless you are. How that's all because of him.

He's sure to make a big show of it. Satoru gives a dramatic sigh, slumps his shoulders, but eventually pushes himself off the mattress to push at the door. He even clicks it shut. He's too nice, sometimes. 

"Happy?" You nod, you don't look very relaxed but your shoulders have dropped a bit. 

Satoru doesn't feel too guilty pushing you down, not when you're already in his bed. He isn't known for his patience. He tastes your skin, leaving marks when he can: teeth bites. He pushes you down down down down so he can sink his teeth into your flesh.

You're asleep and under the covers by the time he's done. The moon's out too. Satoru watches it, largely unimpressed. It's so tiny, a sliver of glowing white. 

And then you shift, turning ever so slightly, enough to catch his attention. He should probably kick you out and send you home. That's what he usually does. When he gets into bed with you, draping his arms around your limp body, he convinces himself it's because he's tired and waking you up would be too much of an effort. 

He lets himself enjoy your warmth; it's nothing like the cold glow of the moon. 

☾

Sometimes, even Gojo Satoru wonders if he's dreaming. 

Sometimes, life is too perfect for him to realize it is real. Everything falls perfectly in place, fitting together like those jigsaw puzzles his caretakers used to distract him with halfheartedly. 

You're in his kitchen, chopping vegetables. 

It had already been a few weeks, but he still wasn't used to this. You, being in his home, in his kitchen, in his bed. Satoru thinks he's masking it well, but his mind is still reeling, it's a difficult adjustment. 

Not a bad one. 

It's like he's been drowning for years and he can suddenly breathe when he sees your toothbrush next to his. It's like he's been stabbed and waking up to your sleeping face is the aloe. It's like he's been suffering through a blizzard, and you cooking in his kitchen, humming a song he doesn't know, is the warm sunny day. 

Things have changed since he brought you home. His home doesn't feel incomplete anymore. As though the apartment itself has agreed that this is where you belong. There are more clothes in his closet, more shoes by the door. The space is ever so slightly less empty and it fills him with tangible relief. He can cook a meal, but it's still nice coming home to something warm already made. 

It makes Satoru wonder what things could have been like, had it not been taken away from him. 

You flinch when he wraps his hands around your waist, nestling into the space in your shoulder. You hadn't heard him come in, apparently. Regardless, you don't linger, fingers hesitating before resuming your task. He finds this part of you adorable. Ignoring the thing that makes your heart race, as though he'll just fade away into the shadows. 

It's his ego that makes him slink into your warm skin, making sure you know he isn't going anywhere. 

"Smells good," he says. 

You nod, pushing away the bell peppers in favor of the onions. Unlike him, you acclimated extremely well. It'd taken nothing to lightly push you to add more and more stuff from your apartment to his. You quietly moved from one setting to another. He remembered this trait of yours from high school. Go with the flow. 

Though, perhaps, it was less out of genuine apathy. Satoru doesn't have to say what will happen to you if you refuse him. He doesn't have to throw lectures about his family and the influence he has on you. He likes that you aren't stupidly brave. He likes that you're meeker, quieter. You pick your battles. 

But he thinks he'd like to see you crack, just one more time. 

"Hey," he says, "let's go out for dinner tomorrow night. There's this restaurant just out of town that has great shrimp cutlet." 

He expects you to nod, like you always do whenever he decides to do something impulsive and meaningless. Instead, you bite your lip. 

"I can't." You mutter after a minute of silence. "I have work. Mr. Higuruma just closed a deal and—and I think I'll be coming home later and later this week." 

Home. It's enough to make his heart flutter. It's the first time you've called the apartment that. Your words almost make him forget about the second thing you said.

Higuruma. The lawyer guy with dead eyes. Satoru remembers him. He always looked at Satoru like he was a child, too stupid to do anything. He never liked how the guy looked at you. Besides, he was way too old for you, never mind that you were taken. You were always taken.

"Oh, right." Satoru gives an exaggerated sigh, fully leaning on you. "Work. What a shame." 

You nod, clearly thinking the conversation is done with. Satoru wasn't so charitable. 

"Y'know, you don't really have to work. Not anymore, pretty girl." His grip on your waist tightens ever so slightly as he pulls you towards his chest. Your hands freeze. The knife glints in your fingers. 

"I make plenty of money. You should just stay home. That way, you don't have to work shitty hours." 

You stiffen underneath his fingertips. He's disappointed when your skin turns frigid. When he peeks over your shoulder, intent to look at your face, there's a nervous smile twitching on your lips. 

"I don't think that's a good idea..." you trail off hesitantly. 

"Hm?" He tilts his head with faux confusion. "Why not?" 

The knife moves up and down, as though you can't decide whether to place it back on the cutting board. Satoru realizes it's your way of fidgeting. 

"It...it would just be unprofessional to leave when everything is so hectic." You finally decide on. 

Satoru scoffs. "So? Who cares. I'm sure everything will work itself out. Just rely on me, pretty girl." 

You don't like the answer, but you don't make a comment on it. Satoru just watches you rotate the knife in your hands. He wonders if you want to use it on him. Slice at his neck, leave him out to bleed on the pretty tile floor. Cut straight through his heart, ending it quickly. 

Or would you like to carve out his eye and keep it as a souvenir? He thinks he'd happily let you. It sounds romantic.

You don't do anything. Instead, you pull back your shoulders as if you're physically ready for war. 

"'Toru," you say gently, softly, and it works in his eyes, "I...can't let you support me like this. It's not right. It's not like we're married or anything." You laugh, like it's a joke. Satoru doesn't cave. 

"I mean, not yet." Satoru rocks you back and forth in his hold. "But gimme' some time to shop for a ring, okay? It needs to be perfect for my perfect girl." 

You follow his movements. He can see your mouth twitch out of the corner of his eye. Your eyes get glassy. 

He knows he's terrible, but he really wants you to crack. 

"You're right, Satoru." You say, "I'll put in my two weeks tomorrow." He grins in delight. 

"That's a great idea, baby." Satoru kisses you on the cheek.

Right, you pick your battles. 

☾

Satoru tells you he loves you, and you're gone, not even three days later. 

He breaks and shatters into pieces he'll never be able to put back. Each day without you is torture. He feels like a corpse, just going through the motions. His clothes feel looser. His skin doesn't feel like his own anymore. Every time he looks in the mirror, he sees someone he barely even recognizes. 

It's like you left with his heart. 

No, you ran away with his soul. 

One day, you were Satoru's, safely tucked underneath his arm...the next, you just weren't. 

His parents don't acknowledge it beyond casual disgust. Every time Suguru talks to him, Satoru can barely comprehend it. Days pass by. Everything reminds him of you. His bed feels emptier; he hates it when he reaches out to the space you used to take up and finds it cold. Your locker remains untouched. Nothing is ever the same. 

Satoru tries looking for you, but you're untraceable. No social media, no friends left to tell where you went, not even your fucking parents know where you are. 

You left him. 

You left him to rot. 

Denial comes first. It can't be. You wouldn't. You wouldn't fucking dare. Anger seeps in the next. For weeks, Satoru can only imagine what he'll do when he finds you. He'll break your legs this time. He'll squeeze your neck so hard that your head pops. He'll kill you over and over again until your corpse is begging to be forgiven. And he won't ever stop, because you're Satoru's. 

That doesn't stay for long. He feels himself get weaker day by day. Food tastes like dirt on his tongue. Any of his earlier vices are gone. 

He misses you. 

Why wouldn't he? You were his everything. 

Like all things, it passes. You aren't there to fuel the flames, so the fire wanes in his chest. The ache in his heart gets smaller and smaller. Things keep him busy. College. Then, his new position in the office. 

Ten years pass. He’s forgotten what you look like. But he remembers parts. Every so often, he sees a flicker of you within someone else. Your eyes are on another woman’s face. Your lips on a girl's smile. It irritates him to no end. It’s even worse when he starts seeking them out, keeping those parts of them for just the night. 

Sometimes, if he closes his eyes, he can still hear your voice—what he thinks is your voice—soft, needy Toru Toru Toru. 

“Gojo, sir?” 

He blinks. Ijichi stands in front of him. Satoru looks down at the meticulously crafted pages. 

“Mr. Higuruma needed you to sign this,” Ijichi lifts a paper filled with bureaucratic bullshit he pays other people to understand.

Why did Suguru take off now? 

“Sure sure,” Satoru says, “I’ll get it done.” 

Ijichi shifts nervously. “Well, it’d be best to finish it right now, Sir. His paralegal is just about to leave the building.” 

Oh, right. The lawyer’s assistant. Gojo could never get a good look at that person, but the assistant resembled a shaking deer to him at most times. He’s not even sure if they’ve ever talked to each other, but he always found the other a bit odd. Big eyes. A shaky expression. 

It was a little annoying to look at. 

☾

Some executive was throwing an office gala, and since he is Gojo Satoru, he needed to come along. 

And since you are Satoru's, you're dragged along too. 

Honestly, the only upside to this is you and that new dress he bought you. A velvet turquoise dress that he can't take his eyes off of. The gold jewelry draped across your neck makes you even more delectable. But his favorite part of the outfit is the shimmering diamond ring. 

The ceremony hadn't been anything extravagant. He'd just booked out one of his favorite restaurants, ordering lobster and sweet wine. He remembered hearing his heartbeat when he bent down on one knee, opening the elegant ringbox, like an oyster revealing its pearl. Looking back, he didn't know why he was so nervous: it's not like you'd say no. 

"What do you think of it?" He asked when you were back in his bed, bare from everything except that glistening ring. 

"It's pretty." You spoke, perfectly nestled in his chest. 

He feels in his heart when he hugs you, a small kiss in your hair. You say something, but he can't hear it; he is too preoccupied with feeling you in his arms. It's still so new, even after all these weeks. It's the anxiety, knowing at any second you could leave and he'd be nothing. He won't allow that, he can't. 

"I thought about something else, y'know?" He speaks quietly in your hair. "Ropes, chains, maybe. I could keep you here, forever. But—but then I realized how sad you'd get. I couldn't go through with it." 

You give no reaction. When he tilts your chin up to get a better look at you, your eyes are glassy. 

"You get that, right?" 

You nod. He's really too nice, sometimes. 

He spends the entire evening with you, tucked away in a corner, away from prying eyes. Just because he has to be there doesn't mean he has to be sociable. Every time someone walks up to him and you, a drink in one hand, he resists the urge to bite their head off, feigning politeness. He complains about their lack of decorum to you multiple times throughout the night, his head resting on your shoulder. You pliantly sit there, listening and nodding. 

About ten minutes after the last board member left, someone else walks up. By then, Satoru's patience has mostly declined. He peers over with disdain before he can really process who he's seeing. 

"Suguru!" He waves over. 

You stiffen, and Satoru remembers you haven't seen him in ten years. 

Suguru walks over with an easy smile on his face. He's nicely tanned, and Satoru is reminded of the pictures he sent over of the Maldives. Maybe that's where the honeymoon should be. 

"Had fun slacking?" Satoru asks with a grin; Suguru shrugs. 

When his eyes meet yours, he feigns delighted surprise. Suguru speaks your name with practiced shock. It's imperfect, only Satoru can see the amusement dripping from his fangs. 

"Long time, no see!" Effortlessly, Suguru corrals you into a hug. You follow, giving into the cold touch of affection before pulling away back to him. 

"Hello, Geto." You say when you're rightfully by his side again. "It's nice to see you again." 

Suguru laughs, light and airy. "You as well!" He looks at your hands, tilts his head. "Oh? Congratulations, you two! When's the date?" 

"Eh, we'll figure that out later." Satoru gives a quick kiss on your cheek. "Everything happened so fast, y'know? Us reuniting and everything: It feels like fate." Suguru's eyes flash. "Let's not rush this. We'll take our time." 

Suguru nods along thoughtfully. He's looking right at you, and you stare right back. Not used to feeling left out, Satoru is quick to intervene. 

The conversation is light, two long-time friends reuniting after a long spell. You stay quiet like decor, settling into Satoru's side. Suguru doesn't acknowledge you after that. 

"We gotta' go. It's getting late." He eventually says, tugging you along. 

Suguru gives a pleasant smile. "Of course, of course. We should catch up sometime." He directs this at you. You give a strained smile before Satoru leads you off. 

"Suguru." The man turns. Satoru grins. 

"I loved my gift. Thanks, man." 

Suguru's smile is catlike. 

"You kids have fun." He calls out right when Satoru's dragging you away all over again. 

You're silent. Not in the way you usually are, pliant and cute. You're thinking. He gives you a nudge. 

"What's goin' on in that pretty head of yours?" 

You shake your head. "Nothing." And then you say, "He's changed." 

From your view, Satoru supposed that's true, but really—

"Nah." Gojo shakes his head. "He's just dropped his act." 

Satoru's hand was wrapped around your waist when you two ran into him. You hadn't noticed him yet, eyes fixed on the floor. The lawyer hadn't changed since the last time Satoru saw him. That dead expression, those creepy eyes. Higuruma's eyes flit over your figure, before he finds Satoru's. 

He stares. Satoru stares right back. Something gives, and the lawyer calls out your name. 

"How are you?" His tone is cool, and this is another reason why Satoru can't stand him. The guy has no tells. He's just a talking robot. 

Unlike you, fidgeting by his side, practically vibrating with nerves. 

"I'm fine, sir." Your smile gets more painful to look at by the second. 

Your voice earns you a tired smile, a mild pinch of humor. Higuruma shakes his head, waving you off. 

"No need for formalities. We aren't at work." His smile drops just a bit, as he watches you for a bit more, eyes flickering to your hand. "I was...surprised when I saw the announcement. I didn't know you and Mr. Gojo were involved." 

Satoru grins, making himself known like a shark in the water. His grip on you tightens. 

"Oh, you didn't tell your boss 'bout us, baby?" He looks down at you with cruel mirth, pinching your cheek. You wilt. "We go way back—highschool sweethearts. Lost contact for a couple years. It's actually thanks to you we were able to find each other again. We'll send you the invites." He presses a kiss to your hairline. 

Higuruma hums at that. Satoru expected jealousy in his eyes; he's even more upset when he finds none. 

"I'll be sure to save the date." 

Then he shuts Satoru down completely. 

"I heard about your resignation. It's sad to see you go," Higuruma says. 

You nod, but you don't look at him. "Satoru and I talked about it, and we decided it's best if I focused on other things." 

"Very, very busy, this one nowadays." Satoru interrupts. "Between wedding plannin' and all that."

"Is that so?" Higuruma says dismissively, "in any case, you already knew this, but I've begun preparations to start a new firm." He reaches into his wallet, pulling out a card. "I always thought you were good at what you do. If you ever want to get back into the industry, call me." 

You take the laminate slip with a quiet thank you. Satoru feels blue turn into red. 

When Higuruma slips into the party, Satoru tightens his grip on you a little harsher than necessary. He's dragging you through the halls. Behind him, he can hear you stumbling over your heels, begging him to slow down. He knows he should care, but he doesn't. That damn lawyer. Those dead eyes. Mocking him. 

"Did you fuck him?" He asks when his anger has reached a high enough peak that he presses you against the wall. 

Your eyes are wild, flitting back and forth. He'd your expression a little cute if he wasn't feeling like a furnace, at the moment. 

"No. I—we never." You say. "Mr. Higuruma was my boss. And—and he's married—" 

"Really? 'cause you're precious 'Mr. Higuruma' was eyeing you up and down like he's already seen what's underneath." 

"'Toru." You plead. "Let's—let's just talk about this at home. Please? Let's just go home." Home. You said that word again. If he were a better man, he'd melt, but he's not. 

"Shut up." He spits out. "Hike up your dress." 

You stare at him. Then, you try to smile, like he's making a shitty joke. It wavers on your lips. 

"It's...we're still in public." You whisper and it's so cute you think he'd actually care about that. "We—we can't...we shouldn't—" 

"Baby." His voice drops, as he licks at your neck. "Pull up your dress, get rid of those panties. Otherwise, I'm just gonna take it off myself." 

He doesn't need to explain anything further. You already get what he's saying. Right now, Satoru doesn't care if you leave this building with your clothes intact. 

He thinks the worst part is that he knows he's being unreasonable. He's backing you into a corner where you'll have no choice but to surrender, and he knows that, but he keeps thinking about those man's eyes and how he looked at you and it was just all so much. 

He'll apologize to you later, with flowers and shiny gold earrings. He'd give you the world; just be good for him now. 

He just needs his fix. So just be good for him now.

☾

When Satoru discovers it's been you all along, he feels like an idiot. 

In a pathetic way of defending himself, he convinces himself there's no way he could have recognized you. You're so different compared to your high-school self. 18-years old, fresh-eyed, naive. The you now is all grown up: a mature voice, a new hairstyle, clothes he'd never even think you'd wear. 

It also didn't help that he couldn't even see your face since you turned away every time he looked at you. 

Embarrassing. He's just glad Suguru wasn't here to call his blunder. 

He thought about it a lot. He spent an hour in his office, pacing around, doing nothing but thinking and thinking and thinking. Part of him wants to corner you already. He can already feel your rabbit heartbeat on his fingertips, the look you always had in your eyes when he was right in front of you. Part of him wants to ruin your life the same way you ruined his. He wants to tear you apart, piece by piece. Leave you in tattered pieces. 

But he can't do that. Satoru still loves you. 

You left him a hollow shell. Broken. Tainted. There are pieces of him he still can't find. He should hurt you. He's hurt other people for doing less. But they weren't you. Even after all those years, he's never quite stopped loving you. 

But he wants to sate his bloodlust, just a tiny bit. 

His perfect opportunity comes where he, the lawyer, and you are all sitting in one of the waiting rooms. The lawyers explaining something, possibly about the ongoing case. Satoru doesn't really care. Besides, this is what Ijichi's here for. 

He waits until everyone is quiet. You're unassuming. By then, your shoulders have lowered, like you think you've gotten away with it 

"Hey," he says, "do we know each other?" 

The other two don't bother, but you stop completely. The pen in your grip shakes. Satoru resists the urge to laugh. 

You timidly glance up like you're still delusional enough to think there's a fifth person he's talking to. Satoru has always been told his eyes are like two suns: bright and intense. He lowers his glasses. You wilt under the solar flares. 

"Hm?" He prods, enjoying the way you shrivel. "Have we?" 

You swallow, glassy eyes flicking from side to side. Finally, you clear your throat. 

"No." You mutter, voice barely a whisper. "I don't think we have." 

"Are you sure?" To intensify the magnifying glass, he leans closer, like he's examining you. "'cause you look really familiar." 

To his delight, you chew on your bottom lip. He can imagine biting it until it's bloody and raw. He stops just when you're about to shatter completely. Breaking you too soon would take the fun out of it. 

"Oh, wait. I don't think that was you." He relents, pulling back and he can see the relief ooze over your face. "I think I got you mixed up with someone who interviewed here a couple months ago. My bad. Maybe you have one of those faces." 

You nod, eager to take the out. 

"Yes," you quickly say, "one of those faces." 

How adorable. You haven't changed since high school. 

He's usually not this obvious, but Suguru isn't here to berate him about it and it's not like anyone else will get on his ass. The women he brings in are his usuals: tall models with full lips and perfect bodies. Satoru parades them around like expensive jewelry. He wants to see you seethe in envy, stew in it. He wants you to see what you abandoned. 

But you don't do any of that. You just sit there, like the dutiful little workbee you are, right by your boss's side.

And then, you give one of them your jacket. Satoru can't stand it wrapped around her waist like she fucking owns it—own you. She wears it so flagrantly, like any token from you shouldn't be worshipped and coveted. He hates it. He hates it. 

"I've never done this in an office before." She squeals when she shuts the door behind her. "So, how do you—" 

"Get out." 

The girl pauses. What was her name again? Satou was too pissed to give a single shit. 

"Um, what?" 

"What, you deaf or something?" He waves her off as if he weren't seething. "Get out." 

"Oh," she says, blinks, and then she takes a step back. 

"Wait." Satoru stops her. 

"Take that off." He points to your jacket. She does it with zero complaints. When he tells her to drop it on the chair, she follows that too. Reluctant expectation. Kind of like you. Maybe that's why he was initially invested in her. 

He only takes the fabric after she's gone. It's soft underneath his fingertips. Nothing designer, but good quality. When you're finally underneath him again, he'll buy you better clothes, all the jackets you want. 

He needs you. He can't wait anymore. 

He needs you, whether you want him or not. 

☾

Satoru wakes up to something crashing. 

It's faint, obviously coming from the bathroom. Not the best way to be woken up. He remembers the first few nights he brought you home. He'd hear you crying in your sleep, choking on tiny sobs. It was the sweetest little thing, like a whimpering puppy. 

These noises are a little more concerning. 

He yawns, sliding out of bed. You didn't bother locking the door. You didn't even close it all the way, either. A sliver of light comes from the crack before he pushes it open. 

"Baby?" He calls. You don't answer. 

You had knocked over a caddy. Toothbrushes, hairclips, soap dispensers, perfume bottles were scattered all over the floor. You're curled up in the corner of the bathroom, huddled right next to the tub. You seem physically okay, no blood, no bruising, but he can't see your face. And you're shivering. 

Satoru's about to call out to you, when he steps on something. He looks down at the tiles. 

A positive pregnancy test. 

"I'm not keeping it." Your voice is hoarse, like you've been crying for hours. "I'm not keeping it." 

"Pretty girl." He coos, trying his best to keep the glee out of his voice and failing. "Let's not worry 'bout that, right now. C'mon, let's get you off the floor." He reaches for your hand. You smack it away. It stung. 

When you look at him, eyes bloodshot and brimming with angry tears, Satoru's heart skips a beat. He feels like he just trapped a wild animal, making it pace in a corner. Any wrong move could result in his hand getting bit off. It's scary. 

He's finally cracked you. 

"Fuck you." Your voice shakes and wobbles, but it's loud and you're clear. "Fuck you. You're a sick, twisted man-child. You ruined everything. You ruined my entire life and—and now you—" 

You're cut off by his giggling. It sounds psychotic even to his ears. He's beyond caring. You flinch when lifts your face up, forcing you to look into his eyes. He's smiling so hard it hurts. 

"Yeah, I did that. I ruined you. I ruined your entire fucking life. For me." He stresses, squeezing your face so hard you try to pull away. "But I had to. You—you wouldn't be here if I didn't." He sighs, pressing your body to his. "I need you."

You're both huddled on the bathroom floor, captive and lover. He's clutching you to his chest, smiling, nestling his face in your hair. You don't say anything for a while. 

"I'm not keeping it." You whisper. "I'm not. I wouldn't stand it if it ended up like you." 

It's spiteful. You're still in that phase where you think your venom can hurt him, as though he'd see your blows as anything but blessings. Satoru thinks to his own childhood. Where he was given everything, lathered in gold and silver. Yet, the house was always cold. But you were always so warm. 

"That won't happen." He tells you. "'cause you're here." 

Your anger has dwindled to smoke. Maybe you've finally realized how crazy he was for you. 

"Please let me go." It's not a beg. It's not even a request. 

"I can't," he honestly says. 

"You won't." You correct him. 

He smiles in your hair. 

"No baby," he says, "I can't." 

If you ran away again, if you escaped his claws, he'd probably die. Drop dead, rot on the floor. He needs you. Even more than he needs food, water, and oxygen. You won't understand that. You've never been in love before. 

You don't fight him. If anything, you sink into his hold. He's there to catch you, heart soaring. You lean into his chest 

"I hate you." You whisper. His heart beats a little faster. It's probably the first time you've ever been so honest with him. 

God, he loves you. 

"I hope our baby has your eyes," he says. 

"I hope our baby looks exactly like you." 

You say nothing, but when he leans down to kiss you, you finally kiss back. You're cracked, and your essence is ready to be molded in his image, just like he's always wanted you to be. 

If Satoru is the Sun, then you must certainly be his universe, the plane in which he rests, because there would be no existence for him if not for you. 

[flamingpudding]

I'm back with a part 4 if you want to do it it's kind of more of a crack write I just need Klarion trying to explain the family tree

But not explaining how he was made at all So Young Justice and the Justice League are now convinced that a the Ghost King was a teenage parent who is now 27 years old and just passed college with a degree in astronomy and machinery

Klarion's other parent is a a crazy fruit loop 64 year old millionaire who went to college with Klarion's Mom parents who had an emotionally unhealthy obsession with his mom's mother and then it passed on to his mom.

And he has an older sister who is technicality a clone of his mom but also has the bastards DNA so fundamentally making Ellie Vlad Master and Mom's first born kid but there's six other siblings that Klarion had that died back a while back but Mom got granddad who's apparently the time lord AKA Cronos which is a whole another long story to go back in time and save those kids get them fixed up and now Klarion technicality has seven older siblings which all do their own things

And then he starts mentioning his uncle who is a 9 ft yeti his technicality auntie who is a medieval ghost princess who can turn into a dragon his auntie Pandora and his his grandfather cronos

My names for the six other clone children are Donald (he/him), Cecelia (they/she), Bartholomew(Them/They), Kyle AKA Bite(He/It), Brutus(He/They), and then there's Danna (She/Her) who actually really like the name Dan and asked Klarion if could have it when Klarion changed his name

Sorry if this is a little bit too much I've just really been thinking about au for this after the last part you made I hope this helps you with your writing or at least makes you laugh but I really love the idea of Danny's AKA somewhat clone children and finding their own personalities and and fighting themselves out of just being failed clone of their mom also I love the idea of Danny going back in time to save the rest of the clone kids cuz now he's a mature adult who wants to save their lives and wants them to grow into their own people.

(⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)

I probably did way to much research into all the fandoms I am in to see what I could tie into this... And yet this feels shorter than it should but I also currently lack the time to add more. But for now I hope this will be satisfactorily.

Also this family tree idea especially the part of saving the melted clones. LOVE IT!

So even though it took me a while! here is Part 4 you inspired! Thanks so much for the ask!

------------------

"Dude, you are making us only curious!" Impulse spoke up as he sat down next to Klarion who had his head in his hands. "Like you and your mom can't just drop your family lore like that!"

The witch boy on the other hand looked up with narrowed eyes at the speedster. "What lore?"

"Let's see, the part that apparently a Vlad tried to kill your Grandpa to make friends several time. That your mom is 'ghost' adopted by the lord of time Cronos and Pandora, which makes us family too by the way, and that you have a sister that apparently is even crazier than what we got to know of your family so far." Wonder Girl counted off her fingers next to him grinning as she mentioned the part of probably being a part of his 'crazy' family too. Which hell yea, that sounded like a lot of fun to be explored she would have to talk with Wonder Woman about that as soon as possible.

"Also..." Red Robin added as he flipped through the photo album that apparently no one remembered he had. He was turning it around and pointed at a particular photo with a wild bunch of people in it that varied between more human and well... less humanoid people. One of them definitely was a Yeti and there was also what looked like living armor as well as Teekly (they knew that demon cat at least), a giant green dog and for some reasons there was a green aggressive looking Octopus in the background too. "...how are you related to a Yeti?"

"Hey that man there and those other teens in the picture actually have some resembles with you! Do you have older brothers too?" Superboy additionally asked as he moved around Red Robin to see the photo better pointing at a man that appeared to be in this late twenties, blue eyed, black haired and a little on the buffer side. If he didn't know any better and the fact that he should keep his mouth shut about their actual identities he would have jokingly asked Red Robin if his family would like to add more kids considering Klarions family apparently had a bunch of black haired blue eyed members too, judging by the photo at least.

"What are you talking about. That man is my mom and yes the others are actually my older brothers and that Yeti is uncle Frostbite who also happens to be the best medic in the Infinite Realms" The four teen heroes looked stunned at the picture and then back at the Ghost King that was smiling at them, still seated by the dinner table with their mentors. Who by the way were now perking up at the change of topic and the information they could gain with it, well Wonder Woman was more interested in the apparently extended family she had.

"Oh I remember we took this photo last year, it was such a hassle to get everyone into one place with them all being busy doing their own things." Danny mused for a moment, remembering fondly how he had to literally drag some of the kids home through a portal.

"It was more annoying than anything too since I was declared to be the youngest...." Klarion muttered also remembering that day not as fondly as his mother.

"Wait, wait, wait! That is a picture of your family? I need an explanation buddy!" Impulse cut in without shame, quickly removing the picture from the photo album to get a better look at it before holding it out to Klarion so he could explain all the individuals. "Plus why does your mom look soooo.... human?"

The witch boy on the other hand stared at him for a couple of seconds before looking over towards his mother as if waiting for something. After a moment the teen heroes as well as their mentors saw Danny nod with a little smile. "This dimension doesn't have the GIW so its fine, the Justice League Dark won't be a problem either, right?." Constantine flinched at the smile the Ghost King was giving him, muttering something under his breath as he had hoped his presence had been forgotten.

"Since mom is giving his okay...." Klarion mutter sitting crosslegged on the ground as he snatched the photo album from Red Robin and flipped through it. "Lets start with the easiest stuff to explain."

Danny chuckled noticing that not only the teen heroes but their mentors as well showed an interest. He choose to stay quiet letting the adults listen in on the kids, and if things went bad he would just ask Clockwork if they could revert time back to this moment and he would change his nod of permission to a shake of denial.

"Okay first of, this is my mom and his sister Jasmine, this is Danielle my older sister and that hulk with flaming white hair and blueish skin is me. That was before I got deaged because of destabilising." Klarion explained flipping to a photo of him, Danny, Jazz and Danielle. "Mom was around fifteen, Aunt Jazz about seventeen and Ellie should have been about a year old but she was aged up to twelve. They look human in this one because well they are. Mom was originally human and became what you call in this dimension a Meta through an accident."

"Wait... that would mean your mom... How could he have two kids at that age of fourteen? You look like an adult and your sister was aged up?" Wonder Girl couldn't help but ask as she looked from the photo and back to Danny at the dinner table again.

"That's cause Vlad was a fu-"

"Language Klarion!"

"Vlad was a fruitloop. That photo was taken shortly after Vlad and I sort of redeemed our selfs. Plus, mom didn't really have my sister and me willingly.... we were kind of forced upon him in a way." Klarion explained shrugging. "Old Man Vlad had an obsession with his mom that then turned on mom, which resulted in my oldest sister Danielle first. Actually, a lot of my elder siblings resulted from that, but they didn't survive it the first time, Mom got Old Man Clocks help to save them once he got used to being the Ghost King. I got added to the mix shortly after my sister, but... i wasn't in the best state of mind at first, kind of went through a redemption phase in which mom had to fix the timeline of our original home dimension, too."

Danny chuckled again at the disturbed looks the teens were giving his son as well as the looks their mentors sent him. He probably should correct Klarion's wording... but being one of the gremlins of his family he just smiled on, not commenting. He really understands now why Pops Clockwork liked watching the chaos he used to cause as teen, and still sometimes causes as adult.

"Klarion... how old is this Old Man Vlad?" Red Robin asked grimacing as his eyes under the mask flicked up to the Ghost King and then back to the witch boy both seemingly unbothered by the disturbing information they were sharing.

"In human years... probably around 67? You stop counting age at some point if your a halfa." Klarion shrugged, not noticing the grimaces of the teens around him. "Anyway, Ellie is sort of the first born. I came in after that, with my core being a mix of Mom and Vlad. Not DNA wise though since I came to be because of their ghost cores. That's why I look like that in this photo. Though human DNA wise I am probably now mostly Moms, we never bothered to ask the old man."

Danny muffled another chuckle, coughing as Superman sent him an incredulous look of shook while he felt Batmans burning gaze on him.

"You... mentioned more siblings?" Red Robin asked carefully sharing a look with his team, feeling like there was a whole lot of trauma in Klarions family he wasn't sure they should address or not. So asking after his siblings was probably, hopefully the safest option. They didn't know that while there was trauma in the witch boy's family it was not the kind they were imagining.

"Yea I got a bunch more brothers, Vlad was a evil crazy fuitloop, before he redeemed himself. They all kind of melted in one timeline but mom and Grandpa Clock found a way to save them." Klarion nodded flipping to another photo containing him, as he looked now, and all his siblings.

"So, Ellie you know about already. The one with the sunglasses and died hair is Bartholomew, second oldest. They made themselves a home in other dimension, barely at home cause he has to much fun messing with something called a 'Starstream' by being a 'Constellation' and throwing gold coins at 'Incarnations'. Don't ask me what that means, I barely pay attention when he gushes about his favorit 'Incarnation'. They spent like all their money and pocket money there. Aunt Jazz thinks he might develop a gambling addiction if we don't stop his spendings." The teen heroes eyed the teen that looked like a young adult grinning in the photo as the witch boy pointed at the one next to them. "The one with the vile is my elder brother Bite, most responsible one of this bunch. Mom even allowed him to take care of a couple of dimensions by taking the role of being their God of Death. I think he messed them up more than helped but he is doing a somewhat good job, even if he is sort of obsessed with making some red head his saint or something..."

"One of your sibs is a God?" Impulse gabbed and Klarion just blinked at him with a shrug. "My Grandfather is the ruler of Time, your point is? Wonder Girl is also related to a God of your dimension."

"Never mind him, moving on." A yelp resounded as Superboy pushed Impulse head down leaning in more to see the photo better. "You got one emo looking brother there!"

"Oh that's Yamikumo, he is like a year or two older than me right now, in human years. He barely got any of mom's powers so he choose to try to life a somewhat normal life but weirdly enough he choose a dimension that is ruled by people who have powers and abilities, you know like the Meta Humans of this dimension. Now that I think about it, he is also the only one who actually is studying on how to be a Hero."

"Do you end up fighting with him if he studies to be a hero?" Wonder Girl whisper asked him with a quick glance towards their mentors, to which Klarion shook his head. "As long as we leave the dimensions one of us choose to live in alone we usually don't fight about stuff like that, aside from the usual sibling fights that is. Then again I do have some siblings that like to make bets like who is better at ruling as demon lord, or who can safe a dying timeline quicker."

Danny chuckled again as he watched the kids, Klarion had definitely caused some misunderstandings with his wording. Then again it wasn't like Klarion said anything that wasn't true, but then again his son loved chaos. So there was a suspicion that Klarion intentionally choose the way he worded the explanation about how he and Ellie came to be as well as the rest of siblings.

"So....." Superman slowly started wondering how he should bring up the topic. "...you became a mom at 14?"

"Say Danny is there a way for me to meet this Vlad? You know since we are family." Wonder Woman also asked smiling in a certain way that reminded Danny of Valerie when she was mad but didn't want to show right away how mad she was, to which the Ghost King on reflex could do nothing but gulp for a moment. Not noticing that a green post it note appeared on the table before him.

[sideblogofthcentury]

Steve knows people.

As much as his little monster-fighting family likes to believe Steve doesn’t know much, Steve definitely Knows people. Steve can read anyone like a book, based on what they choose to wear, how they choose to act, what they choose to say.

It was a survival tactic leftover from growing up the child of a millionaire; attending fancy parties and big holiday dinners with people his father did business with. Meeting a bunch of very particular adults, always having to respond in the exact right way to keep his father in good professional standings.

Steve could have a five minute conversation with someone and know for sure whether he ever wanted to see that person again.

Steve knows people.

And that is exactly why Steve is confused out of his mind about one Eddie Munson.

See, Steve has been “putting the moves,” as Robin calls it, on Eddie for the last three months. He had been pulling out every stop, trying his best to romance Eddie like one of those suave men from the books that had every bored housewife in Hawkins panting.

Steve knows Eddie likes him back. When Steve calls, Eddie’s bored sounding voice perks up half an octave when Steve starts to speak. Every time Eddie sees Steve, his face softens and he gets this dopey smile, like he’s smoked 3 joints in the last 15 minutes. Eddie always reaches out to touch Steve, and when Steve returns the favor, Eddie leans into him like a metalhead-sized cat.

It is an inherent fact to Steve that Eddie likes him back.

So when Eddie rushes a goodbye, or pulls away from a touch that’s a second too long to be platonic, or refuses to make eye contact when Steve would really like to kiss him, it confuses the goddamn shit out of Steve.

And that’s exactly what Steve says.

They’re sitting on the roof of Eddie’s van, looking up at the stars, elbows touching as they each pillow their heads on their hands. They’d just snuffed out the butt of their second joint of the night, and were basking in the lovely high, the beauty of the night sky, and each other’s company.

And Steve, as we’d established before, mutters under his breath: “you confuse the goddamn shit out of me.”

And Eddie, startled and confused, does what he does best: he laughs.

Which makes Steve laugh.

Which makes Eddie laugh harder.

Soon enough they’re both clutching their bellies and cackling out into the warm summer Indiana night.

Eddie sits up to catch his breath, crossing his legs and turning towards Steve. “Were you talking to me?”

Steve looked up at Eddie and placed one hand under his head, one on his stomach. “Yeah.”

“I confuse the goddamn shit out of you?”

Steve chuckled, still panting from the laughter. “Yeah.”

Eddie raised his eyebrows and poked Steve in the side.

Steve chuckled again, and shook his head. “You just confuse me, man. Us. This. It’s confusing.”

Eddie shrank a bit. He knew where this was going. (no he didn’t.) “Oh?” he mumbled, fumbling with his rings, avoiding eye contact.

Steve laughed. “That’s what I mean. You’re so confusing. You act like you want to kiss me so bad.”

Eddie froze.

Eddie’s brain was definitely broken.

Eddie had definitely smoked too much.

“I- you- what??”

Steve laughed.

Eddie blinked several times, wearing the most adorable confused expression. It made Steve’s heart melt. “I act… I don’t- what do you mean I ACT like I want to kiss you?!”

Steve took a deep breath and sat up, turned to face Eddie, and crossed his legs, touching both knees to Eddie’s. He covered Eddie’s fidgeting hands with his own right hand, and placed his left hand on Eddie’s thigh, just above his right knee. He leaned closer, watching Eddie’s chocolate eyes widen, darken, and flit to his lips. Steve smiled and Eddie’s breath caught, his hands flinching under Steve’s, and his eyelids fluttering in shock, before once again meeting Steve’s eyes.

Steve raised his eyebrows. “That.”

Eddie’s brain was still rebooting. “What?”

Steve shook his head and laughed. “You. Act. Like. You. Want. To. Kiss. Me.”

Eddie took a deep breath. “Steve, I’m gay.”

Steve laughed again, and Eddie frowned. “What the hell, Steve?”

Steve laughed again.

Eddie scoffed and started to move away, but Steve’s hands, previously laying innocently on Eddie’s hands and thigh, now gripped him firmly, keeping him close.

“Eddie. I know you’re gay.”

Eddie blinked. “Then why are you confused?”

Steve let his eyes very obviously find Eddie’s lips, lingering there a long pause, before bringing them back up to meet Eddie’s, which are now almost entirely consumed by the black of his blown pupils. “Because you act like you want to kiss me sooo bad, and yet, here I sit. Unkissed.”

Eddie visibly stalled. His entire body flinched, he blinked several times, and his mouth opened a fraction of an inch and he inhaled as if to speak, but made absolutely no sound.

Steve smiled and started to stroke Eddie’s hands and clothed thigh with his thumbs, silently showing Eddie he’s not going anywhere, waiting patiently for Eddie to sort through the obvious shock that this new information has triggered.

After a moment of intermittent blinking, Eddie took a deep breath. “You- I… I didn’t think that was an option.”

Steve chuckled and licked his lips. “It is most certainly an option.”

Eddie nodded. “Okay.”

Steve waited.

And waited.

“Steve?”

“yeah?”

“You’re saying I can kiss you now?”

Steve giggled. “Yeah, Eddie. I am saying that.”

Eddie nodded. “Okay.”

Steve waited again. “Unless.. You’d rather I kissed you?”

“No, no, I wanna do it.”

Steve nodded. “Okay.”

Eddie let his hands slip from underneath Steve’s, Steve moving his hand to Eddie’s other knee. Eddie cupped Steve’s face, fingertips threading into the hair behind his ears, his thumbs resting so gently on Steve’s cheeks. Eddie held Steve like he had the entire world in his hands, and for the first time in Steve’s life, he felt precious. Nobody had ever handled Steve so delicately, and his head was swimming.

Eddie’s eyes searched Steve’s face like he was looking for something, like he’d never get another chance, like he actually cared. Eddie looked at Steve like he was a sculpture in a museum, and it made Steve dizzy.

As Eddie shortened the distance between them, the last thing Steve saw before he closed his eyes was Eddie’s face flash with the most excited expression he’d ever seen, and Steve’s heart filled with joy.

And then Eddie’s lips touched Steve’s and his own brain failed him. He’d kissed plenty of people before but it’s never been quite like this. Eddie’s kiss was firm, soft, and entirely sure of himself, as if he didn’t spend months too afraid to do it.

Eddie’s hands advanced further into Steve’s hair, cupping the nape of his neck, tilting Steve’s head to deepen the kiss. Eddie’s tongue slid along Steve’s bottom lip, and took the opportunity of Steve’s surprised gasp to let itself into Steve’s mouth. Eddie’s tongue on his own distracted Steve from Eddie’s hands, and the next thing Steve knew, he was on his back with Eddie hovering over him, his knees straddling Steve’s hips, one hand shielding the back of Steve’s head from the metal of the van, his other hand holding Steve’s chest down, heating Steve’s soul through the thin material of his shirt.

Steve turned away to catch his breath, allowing Eddie to move his kisses to Steve’s jaw, hot breath on Steve’s neck sending entirely too much of his blood south. Steve sighed, shaking his head and let out an airy laugh. “You are so confusing.”

Eddie laughed into Steve’s ear. “What now?” His voice was deep and cracked, his breath in Steve’s ear making Steve shiver and grip Eddie’s lean hips.

“You-“ Steve panted while Eddie continued kissing his neck, “You acted so shy, for months, like you were too afraid to kiss me, driving me goddamn crazy. I could see how badly you wanted it and you never did anything about it. And now, here you are on top of me, melting me into fucking putty.” He pants a few seconds more, relishing the feeling of his earlobe in Eddie’s mouth. “Why didn’t you do us both a favor and do this months ago??”

“I told you,” Eddie mumbled, lifting his face up to meet Steve’s eyes with the most wicked grin, finally touching his own body to Steve’s in a full-body grind that led with his hips, followed with his chest, and ended with a loud groan from Steve, “I didn’t think that was an option.”

[fourmoony]

James and reader having a lazy weekend!! They usually have pretty active weekends due to errands and seeing friends, but this weekend has been made the LAZY WEEKEND! Lots of eepy cuddles in bed and on the couch, easy meals with yummy snacks, and movies on 24/7!! Cozy pajamas with only the softest blankets too teehee

I love this!! I need a lazy weekend with Jamie and I need it NOW! Thanks for requesting, sweetheart!!

cw: brief mention of sex, 800 words

You’re not sure you’ve ever felt this level of content. It’s a peace that blankets your entire apartment, your entire body, right down to your muscles and bones. For the first time, you’re not thinking about the million errands that need to be run, the assignments that are piling high for various different classes, or birthday dinners, nights out with friends, sports games that you have to cheer at. Everything is quiet. Even the television, of which has been turned down to a significantly low volume, is quiet.

On a normal day, you’d feel like a slob. Almost an entire weekend on the couch, eating takeout and snacks, letting the dishes pile up, the washing basket overflow, and your phone go ignored would usually have your nerves on end. But you can’t bring yourself to care. Not when James has you tucked into his chest, a leg nestled between yours, and his hands rubbing incessant circles on the skin of your hip. You’re both lying facing the television, watching what’s probably your fifth movie of the day.

Every morsel of your being feels calm. You're grateful for your life, especially so that you get to live it with James and your friends. But there's always something happening, always some event or dinner and you really do enjoy them, enjoy spending time with the people you love, but it's nice, for once, to just be lazy. It's nice to lay on the couch and watch movie after movie and eat shitty takeout with your boyfriend.

You're sure the noise of your chaotic lives will resume first thing on Monday morning. But it's Sunday afternoon and you're floating on the high of your boyfriend's lazy touches and a weekend spent doing nothing.

"I wish we did this more often." James mumbles into your shoulder, as though he's been reading the very thoughts running through your mind.

His voice is laced with lethargy, a lazy husk that would make you kiss him silly if you weren't so comfortable. You sigh wistfully in agreement. The calm and quiet of it all is great, but even more so, you love just being close to James. You love the quality time and the lazy cuddles, the slow sex and the feeling of him constantly surrounding you. "Me too. Our lives are too hectic." You agree.

James grumbles a laugh and the feeling of his chest rumbling against your back makes you smile. "You'd rather be a social recluse?" Your boyfriend teases.

His pointer finger and thumb pinch the skin of your hip playfully. You roll your eyes at his teasing. "No," You deny, rather petulantly, "It's just... we're always doing something. I'd like a couple days a month where we can just exist. You know?"

He hums thoughtfully, thumb smoothing over his pinch mark. "I'm sure if we try we can make that happen, baby."

Your muscles protest when you turn in his grasp, chest to chest, until you're looking up into his stupidly beautiful eyes. James' eyes were the first thing you noticed about him. How bright they were, how when he smiled, they lit up like fairy lights strung across the most perfect landscape. They never fail to steal the breath from you, a melted honey-hazel colour you wish you could bottle up and sell, if only to make yourself a millionaire so you and James would never have to work, again, so you could spend all day every day snuggled on the couch, watching shitty Channel Five movies.

His eyes steal the breath from your lungs, now. James looks at you with such gentleness, such love, that your chest constricts and you feel that overwhelming, all consuming sense of love that only he has ever made you feel. "Really?" You ask, ghost of a smile on your lips.

It makes James smile wide, your evident happiness to his suggestion. He's so giving, so caring. Sometimes, the amount of love you have for him feels like it might swallow you whole, crush you into a thousand tiny pieces.

"Really. We'll find time. 'Cause it matters." His words are final.

You hum happily, push your face as far into James' sleep shirt clad chest as it will go. His arms tighten around you, warmth and the familiar scent of him encompassing your very being. Right now, this moment here, you never want to leave it.

"I love you." You tell him, and the words don't feel enough. They don't feel like justification for the way you feel about James Potter. They never will.

James' lips are soft and warm as they find the skin of your forehead, a reassuring kiss left there that you think means James gets it, and he feels the same. "To the moon and the stars."

"And all the way back?"

James huffs a laugh, arms squeezing even tighter. "And all the way back."

[sirianasims]

Chapter 44.1

Girls on Millionaires

“Samara, this is hopeless.”

“It’s been five minutes, Julia, we’ve barely started!”

“But how am I supposed to find anything in here? They should have thrift shops online, I just want to grab what I need and get on with my life.”

Samara shakes her head. “You’re thinking about it all wrong, this is not shopping. Thrifting is more like a treasure hunt, you never know what you’re going to find.”

She moves between the chaotic piles with the practiced air of someone who’s done this a thousand times before. Her hands are constantly busy, picking up items, examining them, and occasionally letting out a small laugh or shaking her head as she puts them back.

I trail behind her, aimlessly running my hands over stacks of old sweaters and linens, feeling out of place. The whole rebrand is starting to stress me out. My money is dwindling faster than I expected, and I only have so long to get the channel up and running again before I’ll be forced to make that dreaded phone call and ask my parents for help. It would feel like admitting defeat.

My spare room looks empty and forlorn without my sewing machine and fabrics, and I was hoping to find something that would help me get the new aesthetic right without breaking the bank, even if I don’t know exactly what I’m looking for.

Instead, I feel like I’m drowning in a sea of other people’s memories, and none of them fit the person I’m trying to become.

I’m about to give up when Samara calls out, a triumphant grin spreading across her face.

“Julia, come check this out.”

She waves me over to a large, white mirror, tucked away in a corner by some broken chairs and unused exercise equipment.

I walk over to it and run my fingers along the curved frame. It’s smooth, no dents or scratches. There’s even a useful shelf on the bottom, and I can already picture it in my new recording setup, framing the scene just right.

“This is perfect, Samara! There’s no price tag on it, do you think they’ll sell it?” I gesture at the girl at the register. She hasn’t looked up from her phone since we got here.

“They’d sell the roof if it didn’t keep the rain out, let’s go make a deal.”

The Rooftop

The music pulses through my body, a steady beat that seems to resonate in my bones and push away any lingering traces of worry. The Rooftop is packed tonight, but I don’t mind the crowd. The energy is electric, the kind that makes you feel alive, feel like anything is possible.

I’m tipsy – more than tipsy, actually – and it feels good. Samara and I managed to get my new mirror home safely, and for the rest of tonight, all thoughts about the rebrand and the money situation are far away, drowned out by the bass and the chemical smell from the smoke machines.

I throw my hands up, twirling in place as the DJ transitions into a song with a heavier beat. The floor beneath my feet feels like it’s vibrating, and I can’t stop smiling, can’t stop moving. I’m probably grinning like an idiot but I don’t even care. For the first time in weeks, I feel like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be, who I’m supposed to be.

Samara and Miranda are dancing next to me, and I close my eyes, letting the rhythm take over. All the tension I’ve carried melts away. I know I’ll have to face reality again tomorrow, finish setting up my recording equipment and sort out a new posting schedule, but tomorrow is a million miles away.

Miranda leans in close, trying to get my attention. “Let’s grab a table,” she says, and I feel like I can see the vibration of her words through the air more than I hear them. “I need a break.”

“Yeah, good idea, my feet are killing me.”

I slide onto the seat, relieved to get off the unforgiving steel floor, as Miranda puts a drink in front of me. The glass is cool in my hand, condensation dripping down my fingers as I take a sip. The strong taste of alcohol is barely masked by the fruits and sugar. Miranda always gets the good stuff, all the bartenders know she tips well.

I gently peel off my shoes and rest my bare feet on the cold, smooth metal bars of the stool.

“Miranda, seriously, how do you handle wearing heels every single day? I’m so sore.”

Miranda grins.

“You get used to it after a while, really. It’s all about practice and a little bit of masochism,” she says with a laugh. “And then there’s the stubbornness, I didn’t spend all that money on shoes just to keep them on a shelf – speaking of, since when can you afford Diego Lobos?”

I glance down at my shoes. “They were a gift from Paul, for New Year’s Eve. I just haven’t worn them since we broke up. He joked that they were mostly a gift for himself, actually. So he wouldn’t have to bend down as far to kiss me.”

And because he liked it when I wore them to bed. The memory stings a little, but it’s not as bad as it used to be, the wound of the heartbreak has finally scabbed over and the pain is less raw each time I think of him.

Samara giggles tipsily. “I mean, they look nicer than using a stepladder, that’s for sure.”

“Maybe that’s why he dumped me, I was bad for his back. I should find a shorter boyfriend next time.”

“Yeah? How tall is Marten?”

“That’s not – we’re not dating, Miranda!”

Miranda clicks her tongue. “Girl, I hate to break it to you, but he did take you on a date.”

“It wasn’t a date, we just hung out! We got home, played games, ordered takeout. He slept on the couch, and then he took the train back to campus. He didn’t try to flirt or hit on me in any way.”

“Sounds fake,” Samara says. “I still think he’s up to something.”

“Or maybe he’s just not into me, it’s not a crime. He can have friends and not want to date them, you know.”

Thankfully, they drop the subject and move on to something else. I don’t like admitting it, but Marten’s lack of interest bothers me. It’s not even that I want him, but I’m used to most guys wanting me, and my ego is frankly a little bruised. Marten is always so sweet and attentive, but that’s it.

I can’t help but find it strange that he spends so much time with me if he doesn’t like me like that. Am I really just so arrogant that I can’t imagine a guy who doesn’t want me? Or maybe I’m just obsessing over it because Paul didn’t want me either. At least not enough to give me more time. I push away the thought violently.

As I take another sip of my drink, my eyes wander towards the bar. The Rooftop’s head bartender, Shane, is quite pretty, all perfect hair and strong jawline – and not that tall. I catch myself staring a little too long, and then I remember that he asked Miranda about me. A flutter stirs in my stomach.

The truth is that I miss being wanted, being touched. I miss kissing and cuddling and holding hands, but most of all I miss sex, the sweaty, dirty, crazy kind that leaves you breathless on crumpled sheets at sunrise.

“Julia, are you even listening?”

“I think we lost her, Mir, she’s busy eye-fucking the bartender.”

“Good to know she’s healed enough to look at other men at last.”

I feel my cheeks get hot. “Sorry, I was just thinking, uh, isn’t that the bartender who asked about me?” I try to sound casual but Miranda isn’t fooled for a second.

She chuckles knowingly. “Oh, yeah, that’s him. Just a heads up, though, Shane is a total fuckboy, he doesn’t do relationships.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Who said anything about relationships?”

Miranda shrugs, her eyes still sparkling with amusement. “As long as you know what you’re getting into, babe. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you, you don’t need more heartbreak.”

“Come on, Julia, you can do so much better. Just wait, before you know it, some prince is going to come riding in on a white horse and sweep you away.”

“Samara, I’d be happy with a duke on a rusty bike at this point. A girl has needs, you know – and my vibrator doesn’t cuddle.”

We laugh it off, but I have to admit that I feel extremely tempted by the thought of seeing where this might go.

Images flash through my mind of maybe, possibly, staying a little after closing time and getting to know Shane the bartender better. Maybe he could help me remember that Paul isn’t the last man on earth, and that even if Marten doesn’t want me either, someone else will.

My pocket vibrates, tearing me away from my fantasy. I look at my phone, slightly flustered. As if summoned by my thoughts, it’s Marten, asking if we’re going to play tonight. I fire back a quick text about being out with the girls and he answers immediately.

“No worries! Have fun and make good choices, okay?”

Good choices? What is he, my dad?

Still, his words stick with me, making me feel a little guilty for some reason.

I glance back at Shane, who’s now mixing a drink with the kind of smooth confidence that makes it clear that he knows exactly how hot he is. If he’s as bad as his reputation, he probably wouldn’t mind being someone’s rebound, but would I regret it?

I followed Paul back to his hotel even though I barely knew him. Am I just the kind of girl who hooks up with any hot guy on a whim? Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but Marten has a talent for making me second-guess myself.

If I’m being brutally honest, as hot as it sounds, getting railed on a bar after closing would probably not count as a good choice in anyone’s book.

But still…

A girl can dream.

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[jackhues]

warm - jack hughes

prompt: "you're cold?" "no? it's super sunny right now-" "take my jacket anyway."

requested by: @lhugh : )

notes: i really liked writing this one, partially bcz i'm in love with jack and his smile atm, and partially bcz it's just really cute. thanks for requesting <3

tags: @woodruff-edwards <3

gif not mine!

you took a bite of your food, laughing to yourself as jack recounted some old story. 

the two of you were at a local pizzeria in new jersey, enjoying a lunch date since you didn’t have a formal one in quite a while. with the devils being on a long road trip for the past week and your exams taking place right before that… the two of you had been quite busy.

“okay, but did he not read the damn label?” you laughed.

“you know luke,” jack shrugged, laughing lightly. “he relies on mom so much, when she told him the mosquito repellent was on the counter, he didn’t think to read the bottle.”

“and he sprayed insecticide on himself?!” you shook your head to yourself, “one bottle said ‘off’, and the other said ‘raid’. it’s not that hard. and, if we’re being honest here, i expect that more from you than from him.”

“hey!” he protested.

you raised your hands in defence, “be honest with yourself, j.”

he sighed, shaking his head, “yeah… you’re right.”

the two of you laughed, recounting stories from the years you’d known each other. it was a fun day, spent enjoying each other's company more than anything.

after lunch, you headed over to a small cafe, grabbing a coffee and muffin for yourself. jack ordered the same, along with some scones. you looked around the cafe, the one where the two of you had met. 

a small smile made its way to your face as you remembered the day. feeling jack’s eyes on you, you turned towards him.

smiling self-consciously, you asked, “what?”

“nothing,” he shook his head, a soft smile on his face.

safe to say, the ‘nothing’ did not make you any less self-conscious.

“what?” you asked again, kicking him under the table.

“ow!” he grabbed his leg, even though you hadn’t kicked him hard. he was just being dramatic to try and avoid answering the question. at your narrowed eyes, he shrugged to himself. “it’s nothing, i told you.”

“you keep looking at me like… like… i don’t know!” you raised your hands in defeat. “you just keep smiling and looking at me, and it’s starting to scare me.”

“wow, i didn’t know i wasn’t allowed to smile at girlfriend,” he rolled his eyes lightly.

“obviously you're allowed, but you can at least tell me why,” you said. “i mean, it’s making me nervous.”

“it’s funny, because there’s literally no reason for you to be nervous,” he took your hand from across the table, running his thumb over your knuckles. it was such a simple act, but it literally made you melt every time he did it. “i was just thinking about how cute you are. you were thinking about when we met, weren’t you?”

you ducked your head, wondering if you were really that transparent. “maybe, maybe not.”

jack laughed to himself, causing you to scowl and throw a scone at him.

“i don’t know why you’re laughing,” you muttered, crossing your arms. “if i remember correctly, you were the one who spilled both of our coffees.”

“you spilled mine first!” he laughed. 

“and i bought you a new one, even though you’re a freaking millionaire,” you tried to fight the stupid grin that made its way to your face every time you remembered this story. “then you managed to spill both of ours.”

“i bought you another coffee after that,” he reminded you.

“three days later,” you added.

“because you said you were running late and had no time.”

“oh please, you just wanted an excuse to take me out on a date,” you accused.

jack bit the inside of his cheek, fighting his smile. he raised his hands in surrender, “okay, so maybe the perfect opportunity presented itself and i couldn’t help but take advantage of it. but i’d say it led to something pretty great.”

a smile made its way to your face as the two of you cleaned up and headed out. the two of you walked down the street, fingers laced as you told him about your new assignment and how you were actually excited for it. 

a shiver ran down your spine, causing you to squirm.

“what is it?” jack asked, noticing you shiver. “you’re cold?”

“no? it’s super sunny right now-”

“take my jacket,” he slipped his hoodie off, draping it over your shoulders, despite your protests.

“jack, i’m not even cold,” you told him. “it’s just a shiver. it doesn’t mean i’m cold.”

“too bad,” he said, sticking your arms through the sleeves.

you rolled your eyes slightly, but pulled the hoodie closer to yourself. it was big on you, but it was cozy and it smelt like him. 

despite the sun being out, and you not being cold, the hoodie made you feel warm.

-

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[matchingbatbites]

nobody else but you

This is incredibly niche and self indulgent, but sometimes that's just what you have to write for yourself. This is a Steddie + Buckingham rewrite of the final scene from Some Like It Hot, because while this movie is very near and dear to me, the last line gives me the ick! So we're fixing that. Much love to Read and Bee for looking this over and giving me some excellent feedback <3

Eddie and Robin scramble across the beach, both still wearing the performance dresses and Eddie doing his best to keep the wig on his head as they make their way to the pier. 

Steve is waiting for them and he looks over as they approach, his bright smile upon seeing them creating a flurry of butterflies in Eddie’s stomach. He drags Robin over, down the steps and across the planking to where the other man is waiting.

“Steve!" he calls, his voice slipping into a higher tone to keep up his illusion of femininity. "This is my good friend, Robin! She’s going to be a bridesmaid.”

To his credit, Steve just smiles at Robin and barely gives her a “Pleased to meet you,” before Eddie is grabbing him and dragging him down to the speedboat. Steve just grins and throws a look over his shoulder at Robin. “She’s so eager!”

They’re just climbing into the boat when a noise pulls their attention. The trio turn to see Chrissy biking down the stairs, honking the attached horn as she gets closer. Eddie and Steve settle into the front seat as Chrissy hops off the bike, leaving it where it lay as she rushes over.

“Wait! Wait for Chrissy!”

Steve looks at Eddie as he starts the boat, says “Another bridesmaid?”

“Flower girl!” Eddie replies, and Robin stands as Chrissy gets closer, taking one of her hands to help her balance as she climbs into the back seat. 

“Chrissy! What do you think you’re doing?”

“I told you: I'm not very bright.”

How sweet. Eddie reaches over and smacks Steve’s shoulder with a “Let’s go!” and starts to relax as they pull away from the pier.

“You don’t want me, Chrissy,” Robin says as she undoes the top of dress, revealing the masculine clothes she hadn’t had time to change out of, clothes that Chrissy surely recognizes from her supposedly male suitor. “I’m a liar and a phony, a trumpet player, one of those no-goodniks you’ve been running away from!”

“I know,” Chrissy replies, the smile never leaving her face. “Every time!”

“Chrissy, do yourself a favor: go back where the millionaires are, the sweet end of the lollipop. Not the cole slaw in the face and the old socks and the squeezed-out tube of toothpaste-”

The singer just giggles as she winds her arms around Robin’s neck, pulling her closer. “That's right, pour it on. Talk me out of it.”

Robin melts as Chrissy kisses her, can’t help but to wrap her arms around the smaller girl and pull her close. Eddie turns back to the front, knowing that isn’t something he should be seeing, that gentle intimacy between the two girls. He catches Steve’s eye and the man smiles at him.

“I called Mother. She was so happy she cried. She wants you to have her wedding gown, it's white lace.”

Oh this is- This is not going to be fun. Eddie takes a breath and steels himself for the conversation ahead. “Steve, I can’t get married in your mother’s dress. She and I- We’re not built the same way.”

Steve shrugs. “We can have it altered.”

Fuck.

“Oh, no you don't! Look, Steve, I'm going to level with you. We can't get married at all.”

The other man frowns at that, and pulls his eyes away from the water to look at Eddie. “Why not?”

“Well, to begin with, I'm not a natural blonde,” Eddie says as he brushes at the bangs of his wig.

Steve just huffs a laugh and shakes his head. “It doesn't matter.”

“I smoke! I smoke all the time.”

“I don't care.”

“I have a terrible past. For three years now, I've been living with a trumpet player.”

“I forgive you.”

What the fuck! Eddie feels desperate now, and he lets his eyes mist up as he looks into the middle distance. “I can never have children.”

Steve, who had clearly mentioned something about six children while they’d been dancing until sunrise, just smiles. “We can adopt some.”

Well shit. Eddie is out of cards to play, and knows the only thing he has left is the ace up his sleeve. “But you don't understand! Oh-” He reaches up and tears off the blonde wig, revealing his short, curly brown hair, and lowers his voice to its natural tone as he says “I’m a man.”

He certainly isn’t expecting Steve to smile, to give him a gentle, sincere "Okay."

What? He- Huh?

“Okay? That's it? Just okay?”

“Yeah? We spent hours dancing together the other night, you think I wouldn’t notice that something was different about you?”

Oh. “But- But what if I never said anything? You were just going to accept me as a girl with a guy’s body or something?”

Steve looks at him, all soft and gooey as he reaches over to take Eddie’s hand. “Babydoll, I fell in love with your personality. You’re a fucking firecracker, and anything else is just the cherry on the sundae. If you say you’re a girl, then you’re a girl, and I was a hundred percent ready to accept that. You being a man doesn’t change how I feel about you.”

Oh god, Steve really is the sweetest guy, isn't he? Eddie thinks about the night they spent together, the hours of dancing and talking and the way they seem to fit together like two perfect little puzzle pieces. He thinks about Steve, and makes a decision. 

“I mean, I’m definitely a man. But I- I don’t mind wearing dresses, and I wouldn’t mind posing as your wife, in public. Especially if it would get me Mother’s approval.”

The beaming smile Steve gives him is enough to calm any anxiety he has about the future, and he laces their fingers together. “You don't have to do that. I’m sure she would love you regardless, honey.”

“Eddie. My name is Eddie.”

Steve’s smile doesn’t fade as he looks over again with a soft “Eddie,” and Eddie really doesn’t know how it’s possible to fall for someone this hard this fast, but he wouldn’t trade it for a single fucking thing.

[specialagentlokitty]

Giles x teen!reader - a demigods fate

Part three:

You ran your sword through the head of the monster in front of you, and you watched as it evaporated into dust.

Lowering your sword, you looked up at the sun and you scowled, turning back to the pile of dust.

Your sword reverted back into a coin, and you shoved it into your pocket, making your way back through the alley you had chased it through.

Wiping some blood from your nose on the back of your hand, you crouched down, holding an arm out, letting the misty black hound who sat next to you.

Another two came over, one sitting in front of you, one sitting on your other side.

They all whined and you gave them all a small pat on the head.

“I know, there’s more, it’s getting worse. I imagine by the end of the school year that’ll be it.”

One of them whined, nudging your arm and you looked over.

“I know Oris, I know, there isn’t much we can do.”

You looked at your watch, and you sighed, pushing yourself to stand up, and the three hellhounds walked around you.

“Stay hidden you three, we don’t want anybody seeing you.”

The padded over to the shadows and melted into them, and you did the same thing, appearing back in the school in the toilets.

Walking to the sink, you washed your face, looking at your split lip with a slight wince when you touched it.

Huffing, you made your way out, fully aware of the hellhounds that were running in and out of the shadows around you.

You made your way into the library, and you sat back down at the table, pulling the book towards you.

“This shit is so stupid…”

“Are we going to have to start a sweat jar for you?” Giles asked.

“Do I get to keep the money?”

“No, I do. Let’s call it reimbursement for all the swear words you keep throwing around, at this rate I could be a millionaire by the end of the month.”

You scoffed, watching as he sat down and you handed him your book.

You had to at least be on the line of not being kicked out of the school because Hermes and Chiron were right, you needed direct access to the hellmouth.

You couldn’t do that if you were banned from the school premises, it would make it all a lot harder, and that wasn’t what you were about. You liked doing things the easy way, not the right way.

He took the book and read the question out to you.

“What the fuck does that even mean man?”

Giles reached behind him, pulling a jar out and set it on the table, pointing to it.

“You can’t be serious? What the fuck?”

“That’s two dollars now (Y/N), don’t make it three.”

You grumbled, shoving two bills into the jar and you huffed, leaning back in your chair and he smiled, walking over to the whiteboard.

“It’s all pretty simple once you know how to break the question down, let me show you.”

You turned to the whiteboard and Giles explained everything he was doing with the the practice question he had made up for you.

He walked over, writing another on the paper in front of you.

“Now you try, just remember to take your time, there’s no need to overthink, you just need read the question, everything else will come after.”

You looked at the page, focusing carefully on the words.

You slowly began to work through it, copying what he had showed you, and then you shoved the paper over to him.

Giles took it, reading your messily written answer and he offered you a bright smile.

“Yes, that’s perfect (Y/N), see, you can do it, all you need is a little support is all, there is nothing wrong with that.”

He reached into the jar and handed you one of your dollar bills back.

You took it and looked at him in confusion.

“Every time you swear, you’ll put a dollar in the jar, every time you complete a piece of homework, go a day without swearing or throwing your books then you can earn them back.”

“That’s hardly enough bribery.”

“Would you like me to keep your money?”

You held the money close to you.

“No…”

Giles smiled brightly, picking up your textbook.

“Well then, do we have a deal?”

“Yeah… I guess so…”

Giles began reading the next question for you, and you looked at your paper in boredom.

“British asshole…”

“Back in the jar.”

You groaned, putting your newly earned money back.

You slowly worked through your English homework, and when Giles set the textbook down you got up the stretch.

“Alright, would you like to confront the terrifying Math or Science next?”

You shrugged, going through your bag to pull out a drink.

Sitting on the table, you swung your legs back and forth, and Giles glanced at you before walking over, setting some books down before wondering back to the front desk.

It wasn’t his plan exactly, but Buffy said she had a feeling about you, and he trusted her feeling, if you were linked to the Greek monsters then maybe this would tell them something.

You looked to the side, picking up the one of the books, flicking through the pages.

You knew instantly these were the books Chiron had told you about, and you stood up, turning to face the table as you separated them all to read the titles.

Finding one about old prophecies, you opened it.

You carefully flicked through the pages, skimming over them.

“Interesting are they not?”

You looked up, then back to the book.

“Can you read it?” You asked him.

“No, I did try, can you?”

You shook your head, pointing to the pictures.

“No, but these are pretty cool I guess.”

You carried on flicked through the pages, eyes scanning the words.

Giles could tell you were reading it, the way you stopped on certain pages, paying more attention to them than others and you stopped before changing pages.

Giles furrowed his brows, and he sat down, picking up one of the books.

You closed the book you had been looking through.

“They do have a rather interesting history, don’t they?” He asked.

“Who?”

“The Greeks, Ancient Greek, a lost language.”

You shrugged.

“Like I said, can’t read it.”

The doors to the library opened and closed, and you paid them no mind as you grabbed your homework to go through it.

“I think you can.”

Giles quickly got up, walking over and he took her by the arm to stop her.

“Buffy, not now, give me a chance.” Giles whispered.

“They know something Giles, they’re lying right to your face.”

“Give me time to speak with them, I don’t think they’re one of the monsters you’re hunting. I.. I think they may be something else…”

“I don’t care, every monster I’ve fought they’ve been there, now they’re reading this language you don’t even know about, something isn’t adding up.”

Buffy looked past him to see you staring at her in pure boredom.

She pushed past Giles despite his attempt to stop her.

“A set up? Seriously? This is getting so fucking old.”

“What the hell are you?” Buffy asked.

“I’m (Y/N), what the hell are you?”

She sneered and rushed forward, going to punch you and you dodged her.

Taking a few steps back you grabbed her arm as she swung for you and spun around, throwing her halfway across the library.

“I’m not the one you should be fighting!” You snapped.

“Why the hell not?! You’re clearly in line with those monsters!” She yelled.

“What monsters!?”

You were trying to play dumb, but you could tell she wasn’t buying it.

You carried on dodging her attacks, then you both stopped when the doors were thrown open.

“Big… big… thing..” Xander gasped.

Kicking Buffy across the room, you grabbed your coin, flipping it in the air to catch the hilt of your sword.

“Big animal? Kinda looks like a bull?” You asked.

Willow nodded nervously, and you backed up towards one of the corners.

“Sorry Buffy, we’ll fight later, this fucker is mine.”

“(Y/N)!”

You were gone, and they ran to the front of the school which was thankfully empty due to classes.

You slid under the minotaur, slashing the back of its legs and it roared, trying to swipe you from the ground.

“That.. that’s big..” Buffy stuttered.

“What is it..?” Xander asked.

“If my knowledge serves me right, that uh.. that would be a minotaur. And.. and.. those.. would be hellhounds…”

They watched as you attacked the monster, hellhounds joining in to help you, and when you were thrown at their feet Buffy grabbed your sword and charged.

You groaned and sat up, pushing yourself up to charge again.

Grabbing Buffy before she could reach the monster you took your sword and kicked her in the stomach.

“Don’t get in my way.” You snarled.

You spun around, and charged once more, jumping up your grabbed the fur and climbed up, then brought your sword down, stabbing the creature in the head.

It crumbled to dust and you dropped to your knees, coughing a little.

You heard your hounds growling, and they circled you as Buffy tried to rush you.

Pushing yourself up, you began to walk back to the library, the hounds keeping the space around you clear.

“So, what are you? Demon? Ghost? You’re definitely not human. And I kill things that aren’t human.” Buffy growled.

“Come close to trying and Oris, Rig, and Titan will rip you limb from limb.” You said lowly.

You pulled your jacket off, a few cuts visible on your arms and you held your jacket up to the light.

“No..no.. no…” you whispered.

“You’re hurt, let..let us help clean you up, tend to your injuries then we can talk.”

You grabbed you bag, taking a bottle of water you walked over to the librarian and took the handkerchief from his pocket and walked back to your jacket.

You tried to clean the blood from it, carefully wiping it down, looking at the small tear in the fabric.

“Come on…”

“We need to talk now.” Xander snapped.

You spun around, glaring at them all.

“I will send you to the deepest parts of the underworld if you even think about coming closer…”

You sat down, still focused on the jacket.

“(Y/N), let us talk.”

“No!”

“It’s just a damn jacket!” Buffy yelled.

You slammed your hand into the table, cracking it and you marched over to Buffy, throwing her against the wall, holding a hand up so the shadows held her in place.

The three hounds kept the other three away from you.

“What if I can fix your jacket? W.. would that mean you’ll talk with us? Explain everything to us?” Giles asked softly.

You glanced back at him.

“You can fix it? Get rid of the mark?”

“Yes, yes of course I can. I may take some times but of course. You just need to let Buffy go, and call your dogs back. Can you do that for me?”

“Fix it Mr Giles.”

“Of course, but we must talk first, alright?”

You slowly nodded your head and lowered your arm, letting out a low whistle for the hounds to come back over to you and you sat down.

“Now, everybody else sit down, and we’ll talk about it what’s really going on here.”

They all sat down and it was quiet for a few moments.

“(Y/N), what.. what are you?” Willow whispered.

You sighed, looking up at them and you picked up one of the books, flicking through a few of the pages before showing it to them.

The only page which was written in both Ancient Greek and English.

“Demigod.”

[its-all-papaya]

we love a productive queen! so - 🧺 and i'd love to see you write the fluffiest only-one-bed landoscar tbh. pls also give me permission for an extra ask with a half formed thought for the "how would i write x" asks 🫶🏻

laundry has been divided!!! and oh my god there is so much of it!! (i'm also certainly going to have to do two dark loads, but i'm also almost certain that y'all like fluff way more, SO if you rlly rlly want... you can... send the black heart... and still ask for fluff)

↠ please make me do my chores

my love for only-one-bed cannot be quantified. i'm sure you read it (maybe? since you referenced the game?) but i did do the drabble ask thing with a little snippet of only one bed a few weeks ago. I'm actually dyingggggg to write that thing into an actual fully formed fic, so keep eyes out i suppose.

if you'd like a bonus idea, @fear8not1 and i (if this is ur anon ask i apologize for not giving u a new thought charlie but banking on it being Not Charlie) discussed a little puppy-centered plot after that mclaren video came out and i was melting at it. basically we were like "what if lando fostered dogs during the offseason and he had one that was particularly needy, so he asked oscar for help. except oscar just kept helping? and spending time with lando obviously to help with the puppy? and just like... didn't leave? so he could help with the puppy?" and that would probably include only-one-bed bc we're going to just pretend the millionaires don't have guest rooms. anyway, not going to write a snippet rn bc it's Chore Time, but plz come bother me later about it if you wish!!!

thank you for my sorted laundry!!

[eleni-cherie]

among thieves ✨ || bts • pjm

- chapter 1.2

"what even am I to you? your rival, your lover, an obstacle or am I supposed to be your coffin?"

about two thieves who can't live with nor without each other. and a joint past that comes back to threaten them.

© 2023 | eleni_cherie

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masterlist: here

— genre: thief au, gangster comedy, adventure, romcom, humour, angst, fluff, very flirty jimin, friends/rivals/exes to lovers (it's complicated, ok?!) f2l e2l ex2l all members play a role in this story!

ALTERNATIVE UNIVERSE. CHARACTERS NOT NECESSARILY LIKE THE REAL PERSONS. ALSO VERY UNREALISTIC PLOT LOL - JUST PRETEND READING A MANGA/COMIC OR WATCHING A FILM, REALLY.

SUGGESTIVE THEMES. MENTIONS OF VIOLENCE & BLOOD (BUT NOTHING TOO GRAPHIC, IT'S STILL A COMEDY!)

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Rhodos, Greece

Taking a sip from her martini, Arabella's eyes glided through the crowded room. Eyeing every guest carefully before putting her drink down. Smiling to herself.

The stairs around the corner were guarded by one security guard only. It'd be easy.

"Another vodka martini, please. Shaken, not stirred," she ordered at the bartender.

A party of european millionaires in an old medieval castle had sounded more excited then it really was. It was like any other rich people party after all. The ones who had their millions inheritated, the old money therefore, was chatting about their latest vacations or newest luxury purchase. The new money millionaires were exchanging the latest gossip of their industries or taking cringy photos and videos of themselves. And somewhere in between they drank and danced and ate way too small portions of overly expensive food.

Her gaze went back to the guard, thinking of ways to distract or sidle past him, when she suddenly felt a hand on her hip.

Her eyes widened and she was ready to make whoever it was, regret it. Her firsts already clenching when a familiar chuckle rang in her ears. His hot breath tickling her neck.

"Nice hair, is it a wig?" He brushed one of the pink curls back. His fingers against her shoulder making her hinch a breath

.

A dry laugh escaped her lips then as she unintentionally leaned into his touch. "None of your business."

"Feisty as always, I missed that," Jimin smirked and let go abrubtly, appearing from behind her. He leaned against the marble counter next to her. Not even try hiding how he shamelessy checked her out in that long black dress with the deep slit on the side of her leg. Allowing it to peek through whenever she moved. 

She huffed when noticing, crossing her arms in front of her.

"What are you even doing here? Trying to kill me again?"

His brows rose, a puzzled expression on his soft features. "But Bella, love, you know I'd never do that."

He drew closer then, grabbing her chin gently between his fingers. Forcing her to look at him. And for a moment she was about to melt under his gaze. "I'm here to get you back."

A frown spread on her pretty face. "Get me back?" She slapped his hand away. "There's no need to get me back. I'm totally fine on my own." She pointed behind him then.

He followed her finger across the open bar to a guy in a white suit and slicked back hair, talking and laughing with a group of others at a table in the back. Chunking down champagne like it was water. Jimin could spot the golden watch and rings all the way from where they were standing.

"See Stelios there? He's my new boyfriend. I'm accompanying him here on Rhodos."

Jimin couldn't help but roll his eyes annoyed. He knew by 'boyfriend' she meant 'rich guy who owned something she wanted', however, it still bugged him she used that term.

"But your 'Stelios' can't protect you from them."

"I'm pretty sure he got enough security."

He sighed dramatically. "But Bella-baby, you should know I'm the only man in this world who can do that."

Arabella remained unimpressed, looking him dead in the eye. Slowly getting fed up with his attitude.

They hadn't seen each in over two weeks, last time they had him pushing her away as if she meant nothing to him and now he randomly showed up out of nowhere, pretending being her prince in shining armour? A prince she definitely neither needed nor asked for?

"Honestly, Jimin, what even am I to you?" Her voice unintentionally rose out of frustration. "Your rival, your lover, an obstacle or am I supposed to be your coffin?"

There was a hint of sorrow in her eyes, he could tell. He heaved a sigh, taking her hand in his gently as he stepped forward. His face close to hers as his lips ghosted over her cheek. "Obviously all of it."

He pulled back, seeing her stunned face. A grin spreading over his plum lips. "And now come," he said excitedly and drank the second martini she had ordered in one go. Pulling her along with him into the crowd then. "It'd be suspicious if we didn't dance at a party!"

She hesitated first, pretending being unfazed by his words, but eventually rested her hands on his shoulder as his own glided to her waist. Both swaying to the rhythm of the mellow melody.

"So when did you snap out of it?" she curiously asked then, "And if you tell me it was on that rainy day then I swear to god-"

"N-no, no, it wasn't!" he quickly objected.

Arabella's eyes narrowed. "Not sure I'm buying that."

Jimin exhaled deeply, shaking his head. "Trust me. I still hadn't gained my memories back at this point. It was a muddled mess and I struggled putting an order to them."

She hummed, looking over her shoulder to check if her 'boyfriend' had noticed her dancing with someone else. Other people dancing between them blocked his view however. Not that he was paying attention anyway. He was still talking with his rich friends.

"So tell me," Jimin smiled then, "Why are you really here? And don't start with that 'boyfriend' of yours again."

Arabella couldn't help but giggle at his jealousy. Even if he was trying downplaying it, he wasn't really doing a good job and it still shone through. And she couldn't deny that she liked it. Because it meant that perhaps he did care after all. 

"What makes you think there'd be any other reason?" She blinked confused, acting innocent. But Jimin knew her too well to fall for that. So he turned her swiftly, pressing her body against his while his one hand travelled down her hips and to her thigh. Lifting it against his. The silk fabric flowing over her skin, exposing her leg through the slid. Along with her berretta held by a black lacy garter.

"Because normal party guests usually don't hide guns under their clothes," he smirked.

Arabella felt her breath becoming heavier the longer they remained in this position, with his dark eyes piercing hers. She lowered her arms from around his neck, letting them slide over his chest. "Let go," she mouthed, not wanting anyone noticing her gun. And his hand slowly did as he was told. Sliding over her thigh and hips. Taking its previous position on her waist. 

"Fine, I'll tell you," she eventually sighed and stepped back. Grabbing his wrist. "But first you gotta help me pass that stupid guard to get upstairs."

She dragged him through the crowd until they reached the other end, near the staircase. The guard standing right at the corner, looking sternly at the direction they had come from. "Distract him so I can climb behind him over the railing and scurry upstairs."

Jimin's brows rose, his eyes going from her to the guard and back to her. Eventually shrugging. "You need help for that?" he chuckled smugly, making her audibly huff.

"No, obviously not. I'd have found a way without you as well. I didn't even know you'd be here after all. But since you are.." She grabbed his tie, pulling him closer to her level. A seductive smirk on her lips. ".. you'll make it easier for me. Won't you?"

He nodded vigorously and leaned in, trying stealing a kiss as the temtation was quite compelling, but she pushed him lightly away. "Maybe after the job's done."

He whined "You're such a tease, Bella-baby."

"And you love it."

"I do, I really do," he smiled. Managing pecking her cheek at least, to which her eyes widened startled. Making him chuckle. She looked quite adorable when being dumbfounded. "Alright, let's do this," he said then and briefly rubbed his hands before making his way to the guard. Starting a casual conversation with him, to which the guard didn't seem to bulge in first. 

However, Arabella knew no one could resist Jimin's charm and sooner or later everyone would give in. So she eased her way to the side of the stairs. Waiting for his sign. And as soon as she saw the guard's head turn to the side and Jimin giving her a quick wink, she grabbed the artful bars and heaved herself up, climbing over the railing. And she rushed upstairs, no one spotting her from downstairs. 

Reaching the top, she carefully made her way through the long corridors. Flower bouquetes on commodes and paintings decorating them. When she reached a corner, she carefully peeked behind. Spotting another guard in front of a door.

That must've been it, she thought.

According to the blueprint she had memorized, this room was supposed to be a storage. Which was obviously bullshit because why would a simple storage need guards? And besides, the room next to it was the security room. That was no coincidence.

She reached behind her neck, fiddling a little before her dress got taken down, replaced by the maid uniform she had prepared. After taking a deep breath to get into character, she walked out of her stash and confidently made her way towards the guard.

He eyed her suspiciously, which left her unimpressed, as she went past him and into the security room.

"Hey, what do you want in there?" the guard called out, leaving his post to check on her.

"What I want?" she scoffed dramatically, "I was sent here because of some annoyingly beeping noise outside. As if I got any clue how to use all these things!" She pointed at the screens and computers. Pretending being a poor clueless and overwhelmed girl would surely help. "I mean, look at all this! And I'm just a simple maid! How am I supposed to know! But my supervisor sent me here to check what it is and take care of it! And I don't know if you know her, but she's a total witch, so I couldn't just object!" She continued her rambling. A deep frown on her face along with frustration written all over it. And she saw the guard's face softening at this as he seemingly pitied her. He had falled for it and she felt accomplished. "Do you maybe have any clue how all this works? I could really need some help or she might tell the master and let him fire me! And I can't get fired! I really depend on this job! Oh god, what if-"

She was ready to shed some fake tears when the guard cut her off, holding his hands up. "Okay, okay, calm down! We'll figure this out," he said and headed to the computers. Typing in something on the keyboard and sliding his ID card through a scanner. "Where did you say this weird sound was located at?"

"Right here." And with that she hit his neck with the back of her gun, making him faint. Hs heavy body fell on the ground and she dragged him to a corner, tearing off her apron and tying him down, in case he woke up too early. She went to the monitors then, deactivating the alarm system inside the fake storage room next door. Thankfully he had already typed in his security key, so it wasn't any problem, because despite her acting dumb, she did know how to navigate through the system.

She left the room, glancing around to make sure the the coast was clear before locking the door behind her. Bumping into Jimin as soon as she entered the fake storage.

He had already been waiting for her inside. "Took you long enough, darling."

"As if," she said and wiggled her way out of his embrace. Heading straight to the persian carpet in the middle of the room and lifting it. Revealing a safe underneath it.

"How did you get past the guard?"

"Oh, not at all," he chuckled, "He allowed me going upstairs. Told him I really needed to pee and the only bathroom downstairs was packed."

She hummed, not being surprised that actually worked. It probably wouldn't have with anyone else, but of course it did for Jimin. 

She pressed her ear on the safe then. Rotating the knob until hearing it click. With the security system being deactivated, it was nothing but a normal safe. The only difficulty left was that it had three knobs, not just one. The first one was done after a minute, another two left.

"What is inside there anyway?" Jimin asked and took a seat on one of the puffy velvet armchairs. Observing her with a raising warmth as she was on her knees, her perfect little bum high in the air. The maid skirt almost riding up enough for it to be revealed.

"A very pretty ruby necklace," she smiled as the second knob clicked.

"That's all?"

"And maybe a few other pretty things," she giggled, concentrating on the last knob.

Jimin sighed, propping his chin on the palm of his hand. "And that's why you're with that sleazy nepo baby? Because he could bring you to this party?"

"Hm, maybe. But maybe he also treats me nicely."

Snorting, he straightened himself again. "Nicer than me?"

"Perhaps," she shrugged. Knowing exactly she was teasing him. "At least he didn't want me dead."

He sighed. "You ain't letting go of that, are you?"

The third knob clicked open and she sat back on her legs, looking at him with a sad smile. "It hurt my feelings, you know." Her gaze fell on the safe then, opening it. 

His lips slightly parted, not having expected this. After all, he wasn't used to this kind of honesty from her unless they were in serious danger with the possibility of them not making it out alive. This didn't apply now, however, astonishing even more. And he finally began to understand how deeply the whole incident really offended her feelings. The whole real reason she was there, on this greek island with some millionaire, being to run away and distract herself from her broken heart and ego. He finally got it.

Before he could react properly though, she had already got up. The ruby necklace decorating her neck and a fitting bracelet placed around her wrist.

She went to the window then, pushing it open and looking down. It wasn't too high. She could jump on that tree and then climb down. However, she remembered a guard roaming around the garden with a dog when arriving earlier there. There didn't seem anyone around now though as the garden was quite broadly spread. She had to take advantage of the security sensors around the mansion being deactivated.

"You coming?" She looked over her shoulder, seeing him shake his head.

"I'll better head back down before the guard gets suspicious. Don't wanna ruin your escape," he smiled then, "I'll meet you at the entrance gate."

She nodded and climbed out on the nearest branch then. Carefully getting down the tree, not wanting any scratches in case she bumped into anyone and they'd get alarmed by them.

She lended in the darkness of the shrubbery and quickly changed back to her party dress when a flashlight appeared further away.

Arabella cursed internally and pressed herself against the wall. Slowly moving to the front of the building. She looked over the corner, the other guard with the flashlight and dog coming closer.

There was also a guard at the entrance who was luckily guiding a drunk party guest and his young company to their car in that moment. Giving her a perfect opportunity to rush out and towards the gate while the guard was putting the guest inside the car.

She was casually walking towards the exit over the forecourt, pretending having just come out of the party when a deep voice was suddenly heard right behind her. "Stop you little thief."

She paused in her tracks and without hesitating, rammed her elbow backwards, towards the person. Hearing a high-pitched yelp and a groan. She slowly turned around, seeing Jimin grinning at her mischieviously. Holding his belly. "You almost hit my wound, love."

"I'll try not to miss next time." She tried slapping him for using his voice mimicking to mess with her, but he successfully dodged every one of her attempts. He grabbed her hand then and tucked her out of the gate before anyone took notice of them.

"Sorry, sorry, but I couldn't resist," he laughed. Holding his hands up in a defensive manner. "You're too cute when getting surprised."

"I hate you!" she whined- Her voice loud, causing Jimin to quickly press a finger on her lips to sush her in case they might get heard. He stopped in front of his car then, unlocking it and opened the passenger door for her to enter. She rolled her eyes and climbed in, slamming the door shut. He sighed and got behind the steering wheel. Starting the engine and driving off before any security noticed her little theft. 

The cool night breeze from the lowered windows tousled their hair as the car rushed down the road through the dense forest.

Jimin's eyes briefly glanced at her absentmindedly staring out into the dark woods. The rubies on her skin glistening brightly whenever they passed a street lamp. Contrasting her smooth skin.

"Bella?" She hummed, not averting her eyes from the scenary outside. The dark sea peeking between trees. "You know I'd never hurt you. I wasn't myself back then."

She exhaled deeply, finally looking at him as well. "I know it wasn't your fault." She paused, her eyes wandering back outside. "It's.. whatever, really. No big deal." Despite her trying downplaying it, it did still hurt a little when thinking about his cold, emotionless stare from back then. As if she was nobody to him.

The car slowly came to an halt at the side of the road, interrupting her train of thoughts. And Arabella frowned, glancing up at Jimin. "Why di-"

She didn't finish her sentence, cutting herself off when seeing his expression. His eyes gleaming with sorrow. "I'm sorry, Arabella. I truly am."

Her lips parted. Not having expected him to feel genuinely remorse because of her silly remark. And she placed her hand over his. Giving him a small lopsided smile. "It's okay, I'm not mad."

They stayed like this for a moment more. Holding each other's gaze while smiling. Until sirens echoed in the distance, breaking the silence. And both their eyes widened. His lips breaking into a laugh then. "Guess your little theft didn't go unnoticed after all."

She giggled, taking her small gun from underneath her dress as he pulled out his own from the glovebox.

"Ready?"

"Always."

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next chapter: 1.3 here

[horrifically]

What are ur thoughts on Beyonce going into country music

i have a lot of them honestly.. firstly i love the singles she's already put out, they've stayed on a loop. they're more pop than anything else, but if maren morris and kelsea ballerini can get away with it and be played on the radio and sing at the cma's then i have no problem categorizing it as such bc it certainly reflects mainstream country music of the last ten years. i think this genre definitely has space for her given she's a black texan, and she's already kinda dabbled in the genre before with daddy lessons

i think my bigger issue is the reaction she's gotten, lana too. "oh i hate country but ill listen to anything for mother" lmaooo...... okay. really just presents the fact that ppl don't view south as a culture and see it as homogeneous. and when i say culture, i don't mean it in the sense that it's unattainable or that there's an innate nature that's closed off to outsiders. i mean that it's a complex melting pot of regions, beliefs, struggles, languages and community.

the thing is that white southerners are seen as dumb racist hillbillies and black southerners are constantly written off, forgotten and stolen from. no one cares abt cop city. latinos and natives get pity points from white neoliberals from the north until you point out that texas's grid failing will kill them too, until you talk abt the right of land/land back. yall say you hate country/the south bc you hate patriotism & racism but then don't care abt cop corruption, class segregation, or gerrymandering.

all of this is dismissible and will not be discussed when everyone gets on tiktok in cowboy hats and learn to step.. to me, her music is good. i think the lyrics in 16 carriages embodies a lot of what makes country music. but when do we acknowledge that she's just another millionaire stepping onto the scene and leaving a bunch of underprivileged people behind her. i mean, did we not just try to have this discussion abt her movie playing in israel? it's kinda cheap to me. youll listen to beyonce but not war and treaty? charley pride? kane brown? darius rucker? blue grass? BLUES? yall dont even know the banjo is an african instrument, bc you dont care to

country music is more than a bop, which is why mainstream stuff ends up pissing a lot of disenfranchised southerners off. morgan wallen and the like are the epitome of media gentrification. there's so much love and soul and struggle to be explored.. that's what the south & country music is to me. ill listen to her album and probably enjoy it too. but i struggle to see how at this point in her career she's gonna truly connect to the larger community.. texas hold em already comes off as being stripped in order to be digestible to her audience. those are some of my thoughts ig

[envy-of-the-apple]

Moon Starves Sun

Dark!Gojo Satoru x reader

Part one: Sun Eats Moon

Part two: Earth Kills Moon

Part three: Moon Starves Sun(Full part)

Synopsis: The aftermath of 'Sun Eats Moon' in Satoru's perspective.

(Warnings: implied sex, forced relationships)

When Satoru's close like this, he can hear your heartbeat. 

It's been a while. Ten years. An entire decade. Everything about this is different, yet so familiar. He feels like he's finally reached the shores, feeling the warm sands underneath his feet. Like he's been given his favorite food after being starved for years. Everything melts. Everything except for you. 

He'd like to stay like this forever, listening to your rabbit heartbeat, feeling your soft skin, but for your sake, he pulls himself off you. Lying on a wooden desk probably isn't that comfortable. 

Your eyes are shut. Your breathing is shallow. You're so pretty like this under the moonlight. Your clothes are barely hanging onto your body. He can see every mark he's left on you. Part of him wants to make more, but he'll let you off the hook for now. He's nice like that. 

"Still with me?" 

Your eyes flutter open. You don't respond, but at least you're not crying anymore. He can work with that. 

"C'mon, pretty girl," he says, voice soft, "let's piece you back together." 

The belt left lines on your wrists. He'll kiss them better later. For now, Satoru collects your clothes and heels from the floor, placing them on the desk. He helps you reclasp your bra, runs his fingers on your arms when you finish buttoning your blouse. It's a quiet affair. Every so often, he'd catch your eyes. You don't let yourself linger for long. Satoru finds that a little cute. 

You say nothing when he wraps an arm around your waist, guiding you out of his office. Maybe you're still dazed, still gathering yourself back up, because you don't struggle as much as he predicted. You try to leave his grip when the two of you reach the lobby. He's quick to stop you. 

"Where, do you think you're goin'?" He grips your wrist when you take a step away. 

You look at him, eyes shimmering like water. 

You swallow. "My apartment. I—I need to go back—" 

He clicks his tongue, bringing you back in. 

"We can get your stuff later." He tells you with a grin. "let's just go home, tonight. I'm exhausted." 

You open your mouth. Satoru waits. You say nothing, and he thinks you're starting to get it. 

The moon is a dusky red tonight. Satoru thinks it's an ugly color. 

☾

If Satoru could describe you in one word, it would be: predicatable. 

Normal, boring, a speck in the crowd—none of these are bad things. Just like how much of the universe is nothing, you're an empty void, too. Not everyone can be like him. From the minute he was born, Satoru was destined for greatness—a prodigy, heir to a millionaire conglomerate, the Sun itself. His life isn't written on his forehead for everyone to read. 

You are the exact opposite. Completely unassuming. He practically knows everything about you without even having to ask. 

Like how Satoru can instantly tell you've never been over to a boy's room before. 

You've probably never even been in a relationship before him, either. Even before he managed to corral you into his arms, you were always so annoying about the other things like school and friends. Though, you don't really have much of the latter anymore. His fault, Suguru never fails to remind him. 

He watches as your eyes linger over his shelf: the numerous trophies and awards. You're still standing meekly in the corner, still garbed in your school uniform, clutching your backpack. He has to roll his eyes at how obviously you're trying not to look at him. 

"What're you waitin' for?" He finally asks. You jump, eyes flitting over to find him before you find the floor. He resists the urge to roll his eyes again.

It's not like you two haven't done shit before. You sucked him off twice now, and he's finger fucked you against the bleachers. You should really stop being such a prude. 

"C'mere, pretty girl." 

***full version of pt 3 is on a03 and account restricted. in the process of censoring the fic so it can be posted on tumblr**

[bbcstdb]

You know what the future of America would look like to the most idealistic and altruistic version of me?

It would not look like the top percent and millionaire media and entertainment vessels telling immigrants and asylum seekers how to seek refuge and opportunity in a land that was never theirs in the first place. It looks like beheading the manifest ugly destiny types. Viva la résistance style. It looks like a coupé d'état of any man and their side kick woman telling the back bone of the country, telling the ones who pick their food and help their industries grow along with their gluttony and cultivate the status quo, that they don't deserve any hand outs from anyone although they likely work harder and literally got you there. Generational poverty and borderline slave work got you those nice cars, overpriced clothes and shoes and many opulent trinkets.

The future of America in my imagination does not fund wars. It funds the education of it's own people. It creates a strong psychology (mental health in general) program for everyone in the melting pot. Invests in fixing the problem of dysfunction as a society at the root. I see colleges universities allowing phsycology/psychiatry graduates to stay in dorms if they provide seminars and group meetings for free when class rooms are unused. Nutritionists along side them. So many health problems undectected, tax payer dollars to the trash, because you refuse to see that at times mental issues and neglect cause bad diets, inefficient, unhealthy lifestyles. How it affects children. How certain things cause birth defects, is that what you want unaddressed to then also bite back and belittle and attack the sufferagees of the cycle you refuse to break. You complain about immigrants but we built this land for you. We fed you, served you, carried the bread and sometimes made you the basket. This is how you repay the back bone of your nation? Any problem can be fixed. Your laws and small minds lack the ingenuity to break free from dead weight. That dead weight is you. It's your ego. You want to be pushed around in a wheel chair you don't need. You want disabled ppl parking when you can walk just fine like the rest of us. Because you have your position you also demand to be carried from the car to your next seat. You are so unbelievably out of touch with humanity and our potential. All you baldies see is a race to space because you're not comfortable sitting down humbly in yours. You make competition of nothing. Because there is nothing. Just the system you want us all stuck in because you're severely lacking in the ability to imagine more, see more, see bigger and brighter over a unity you always had the ability to create. You'd rather live in comfortable fear of competition that doesn't exist. You'd rather stay within the confines of laws that have proven to not be for the people by the people, but whatever the bigger powers in your country say so. You want everyone to cower with you. While anything and everything wonderful you could have created passes you by.

[identityunsure]

Wednesday, 24 January 2024, 1:36 am, in bed.

Real estate is changing me.

A tenant’s agent has been trying to bully her way through the deal.

“You do this”, “You do that”, “You listen to me”, “No, you don’t understand”, using exasperation and strange ideas and even resorting to threats.

Idiot.

Not me.

Her.

She’s the one telling me there’s a cheaper unit, but she’s bringing her tenant only to me because I agreed to share the commission.

She’s the one telling me she has a ready buyer for the same unit, a client who will pay record prices because they have a lot of money and they don’t know any better, making it a done deal, “so it doesn’t matter anymore how much your landlord rents it out, right? So you can tell your landlord to lower the rent!” And when I disagreed, she snarked, “Why you don’t understand?”

She’s the one who boasted she’d gotten the door pin, and already gained access to the unit. Thrice. When I pressed her how she got the pin, she flipped to “ok, just pretend I didn’t say. We don’t have the pin. So I will find out when is delivery, and *you* go down. You go down Wednesday. You go down Thursday. And landlord will pay for hotel fees if the unit isn’t ready. Tell the landlord that. He cannot back out.”

I got mad.

I don’t have boundaries for myself, but put me in charge of protecting something/someone, and I will find the line. Even if it takes a while.

And if I – the dumbest person I know – can look at someone and know they’re a flick of shit, then that person’s on a really low level.

My standard for decency isn’t very high, and she still failed.

So I don’t look at her as human anymore, worthy of kindness or decency or the benefit of the doubt that she has good intentions and is just bad at expression.

She’s just someone to twist and turn and align. A blustering idiot.

I have never looked at anyone like that in my life.

One of my kids – the smartest kid I ever taught – told me that people aren’t good or bad, it’s just intention and values and alignment. Either two people want the same things or they don’t.

I logically understood that.

Today, I emotionally understand.

And a long-held, cherished viewpoint of the world melts into tears.

One of the millionaires I interviewed said that when they joined real estate, their brain wasn’t wired the way they’re wired today. They were a lot more innocent, trusting, naive.

And I wondered to myself how I could change the wiring in my brain. I wondered what needed to happen.

Be careful what you wish for, right?

It’s funny, someone recently tried to cross my boundaries, and I still believed he was decent, that I could trust him.

Someone crosses a boundary of a person or thing under my care, and I don’t just push back. I want to attack.

There’s a difference between getting into a fight, and wanting to win.

I never expected I’d learn that.