#luke x saint

[peggyrose19]

Hold Me Closer

Here have some Vaincre St. Tweedle, because yes I did in fact take the two scenes and like 10 total lines of dialogue between the two in canon and turn it into 4.1k fic why do you ask. I also wrote the entire thing in a week. It’s fine. @hecksee all done darling please enjoy :)

characters belong to the lovely @lumosinlove​

Disclaimer that this fic is 18+

Luke’s hat was a familiar weight on Saint’s head. He reached up a hand to touch the brim, running his fingers along the worn fabric there he knew to be a faded blue. Luke sat beside him, shoulders pressed together, not looking at him but not pulling away either. Saint raised his beer to his lips, taking another sip as he glanced at Luke from the corner of his eye. 

He glowed amber in this light, Saint noted. Strands of his hair looked red. A trick of the light, maybe. Those brown eyes were fixed on Percy across the table, and he was frowning. Then again Luke was always frowning. Especially at Saint. But sometimes not. Recently… recently Luke had been frowning less. Saint wasn’t sure what to do with that.

There was a stirring in Saint’s stomach that seemed to surface these days anytime he looked too hard at his friend and teammate. He didn’t know why it had started now; objectively, he’d always found Luke beautiful. Objectively, he’d always liked him. Or maybe not always. But long enough. So why did he want Luke now? What had changed in the last few weeks that had stayed buried for the years before? 

Maybe it was Black and Lupin, and all the support they’d received. All the hate they’d so artfully ignored. Or the knowledge that maybe, just maybe, this could be possible now. That he had a shot. Maybe he was done being scared. 

“Hey Tweedle,” Saint leaned over to speak low in Luke’s ear. The man hummed in response, tilting his head closer to Saint, even as his gaze stayed on the others. “Come with me?”

“Where?” was Luke’s reply, somehow curious and grumpy at the same time. 

“Just come on.”

Saint could feel his pulse in his throat as he stood, Luke following suit. 

“Need some air,” he offered the other guys with a quick smile. They accepted the answer easily.

Saint could feel Luke’s gaze on his back as he threaded through the crowded bar to the door. He hadn’t exactly been lying about needing some air; he had always found bars ever so slightly suffocating, no matter how few people there may be. And tonight it was packed. 

As the door shut behind them, Saint took a deep breath of the cool autumn air. It was refreshing, even as he shivered slightly in his thin t-shirt. Luke followed him around the building without a word, his silence a heavy presence at Saint’s side. 

“So.” Luke leaned casually against the brick exterior of the building next door, shadows dancing across his face. They were partly hidden like this, secluded in a tiny back alleyway. “Why are we out here?”

Saint just shrugged, but he couldn’t tear his eyes from Luke. They stood close, close enough for Saint to see the hint of green in Luke’s right eye, that little speck that always drove him crazy. Even in the dim light of a flickering street lamp, he could see the green, an anchor among a sea of brown. His expression was set, lips tugged down, but then again Luke was always frowning. 

Faintly, somewhere in the back of his mind, Saint knew this was a bad idea. The two of them. Luke was Saint’s best friend. They played in the NHL, on the same team. But he liked Luke, more than he’d liked anyone else before. He wanted to be near him, wanted him as he was. He wanted more than just his friendship.

It was then Saint realized they stood close enough he could feel Luke’s breath on his skin, the warmth emanating from his skin. Luke’s gaze darted to his lips then back up, searching Saint’s face. His expression was open and unguarded, the opposite of what Saint was used to. And yet it felt familiar still to stand before Luke like this, see the curiosity on his face, the dark curl falling across his forehead. Unthinkingly Saint reached out and brushed it behind Luke’s ear. 

Luke caught his hand before he could drop it, slim fingers wrapping around his wrist. Saint could feel Luke’s pulse through his warm skin, quick and light. He watched Luke’s breath hitch, caught in his chest. They stood there, watching, the tension electric around them. It felt as though even the air held its breath as they stared at each other, holding on, frozen to the spot. Luke’s hair fell into his face again.

Slowly, so slowly it felt like moving through molasses, Saint pushed his hair back again with the other hand, leaning forward until their foreheads touched. Still, neither said a word. Luke just looked up at him with wide, trusting eyes, just a hint of a smile playing at his lips, and Saint wanted to taste. 

He ducked down and pressed their lips together and Luke didn’t pull away. Instead Luke just pulled him closer, pulled their bodies flush together, falling against the wall and letting it support them both. His arm wrapped around Saint’s back, their hands still clutched together, and Saint held on for dear life, afraid that if he let go Luke would only disappear on him again. He let Luke pull the air from his lungs, all the longing and wanting from his heart. He let himself fall. 

It was hours or maybe only minutes later that they pulled apart, gasping for breath. Luke’s eyes shone even in the dim light, his cheeks flushed pink, his lips wet. Something about Luke seemed to take away all his self-preservation, for Saint didn’t stop himself from running a gentle finger across Luke’s lips, wiping away the moisture as careful eyes watched him. He couldn’t read Luke’s expression like this, wanted to know all the thoughts running through his mind. They seemed easier to manage than his own tangled thoughts. 

“Saint,” Luke whispered as he lowered his hand. 

“Yeah?”

“Why?”

Saint fought the urge to squeeze his eyes shut as the soft question squeezed at his heart. Luke sounded so sad, so confused. His expression stayed steady, but his voice was quiet, lonely. 

“Because I wanted to,” he answered finally, looking anywhere but Luke’s face. 

Gentle fingers touched his chin, lifting their gazes back together. Luke looked impossibly gentle then, all his sharp edges and cross frowns brushed over with a soft smile and warm eyes. Saint wanted both sides, wanted all of it. He loved seeing Luke fierce and aggressive on the ice, loved the set of his jaw and the darkness in his gaze. But, standing there at night, outside a crowded bar with the stars winking overhead, he fell in love with the gentleness too and the care in his touch. 

“Hey, kiss me again,” Luke said.

“You sure?”

He scoffed. “Since when do you ask?”

“Since it’s you.”

“Sappy,” Luke murmured, before he was kissing Saint again, warm and solid and strong, kissing the thoughts right from his mind, grounding Saint in the present and making him all too aware of the want burning a hole in his chest.

“Tweedle,” Saint said against his lips. Luke hummed and merely kissed his cheek, teeth scraping along his jawbone, making Saint’s body shiver involuntarily. “Luke,” he tried again. “Please. I want you, I want-” But Saint lost his train of thought as Luke bit at the junction of his neck and shoulder, just hard enough to sting, before soothing the pain with his tongue. Then again, on the underside of his jaw. Saint knew it would leave a mark by morning and he reveled in the thought. 

“Let me take you home,” Luke murmured. “Please.” 

“Yes,” Saint gasped, it was all he could say. He had wanted Luke for so long, yet it had crept up on him, seemingly without notice. If he thought back now, it seemed so obvious. In hindsight, he’d been falling for his goalie for months, maybe even years. He’d just chosen to ignore it.

“Please, take me home,” Saint said. 

Luke was quiet on the drive, but he kept a hand on Saint’s thigh, rubbing the exposed skin just above his knee. The radio played, though Saint couldn’t say what. He was far too focused on Luke’s hand on his body, his gaze still fixed determinedly on the road. Every once in a while, Luke’s fingers swept beneath the hem of his shorts, causing a thrill through Saint’s body. 

Neither moved after Luke turned the car off in his driveway. His house was nice, though Saint had been there before. A thick silence filled the car, hovering somewhere between thrilling and awkward. 

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Luke asked quietly, breaking the silence. His hand still rested on the gear shift, a gold ring adorning his thumb, a Rangers’ blue stone embedded in it. Saint had never noticed it before. 

Saint nodded. “Yes.” 

A flash of a smile. “Come on then.”

Saint swallowed hard and followed Luke inside. 

He watched quietly as Luke unlocked the door, dropping his bag by the door and his keys on a small plate on the counter. He shed his jacket, hanging it on a hook and glancing back at Saint. Luke stepped towards him, backing them up until Saint’s back hit the wall. But Luke didn’t touch him, didn’t say anything. They stood together much like they’d stood in that alley, breaths apart, the seconds stretching between them.

Saint didn’t know who moved first, but then they were kissing, Luke pushing him against the wall, pulling their bodies flush together. He arched into Luke’s touch, silently begging for more, Luke complying easily. They moved well together, Saint thought deliriously, working Luke’s lips apart and licking into his mouth, tugging a groan from his throat. He wanted more, wanted all of it, anything Luke was willing to give him. He wouldn’t take more than he was given, not this time. 

Luke only pushed harder, his hands sliding down Saint’s chest. He pushed Saint’s t-shirt up easily, finally touching bare skin. Saint thought he may just combust right there at the feel of Luke touching him, so purposeful and careful.

“Luke, wait,” Saint panted, and he stopped immediately. “If you don’t stop, I’m going to take you right here, and as much fun as I’m sure that would be-” Luke just raised an eyebrow at that. “Don’t look at me like that.”

Luke laughed, bright and loud, and Saint could’ve lived his whole life with that sound in his ears. It was better than any song, any cheering crowd. He couldn’t help his smile as soft brown eyes met his, alight with mischief and joy, so unlike the intense focus Saint usually found there. 

Luke smiled and kissed him softly. “C’mon then.” 

Saint followed Luke towards his bedroom, their hands tangled together. Luke flicked the lamp on by his bed and tugged Saint down with him. Saint let himself collapse, boneless, on top of Luke, trusting him to take his weight. Luke was warm and solid beneath him; it would have almost felt sweet had he not been able to feel Luke’s erection pushing against his thigh. 

He looked warm beneath the lamp's yellow light, inviting. That little smile played on his lips, one Saint had never seen before. Luke looked confident in a way Saint had never seen him, comfortable and secure in himself. It was intoxicating, seeing that confidence, knowing it was focused on him. It made everything feel sharper, brought to light just what was happening between them. 

Saint desperately wanted to touch, and so he did, pushing aside the collar of Luke's shirt and mouthing at his collarbones. Luke had already left his mark on Saint and now he wanted the same, wanted Luke to wake in the morning with the colors from Saint's mouth on him. He wanted to see the purple and red and blue in the morning and know it was him that did that, it was him that made Luke look that way. He wanted to take Luke apart with his teeth and his hands, until he was capable of nothing more than moaning Saint's name. He wanted more than he ever had and he didn't know when that wanting started, but now that it had he didn't think he could ever let it go.

“Saint,” Luke groaned, and he grinned sharply. 

“Something wrong Tweedle?” 

“No playing,” he panted, looking up with hazy eyes. “Please.” 

“Thought you liked it when I played.” And oh did Saint know the effect that would have on him. He couldn't help a smirk as Luke groaned and rolled his eyes. 

“You fucker.” 

“Well-”

“I swear to god if you finish that sentence I'm kicking you out right now.” 

Saint smiled widely and kissed him, softening that surly glare immediately. “Will you let me take your clothes off now?” he whispered into Luke's jaw. 

“God I thought you'd never ask.” 

The words were barely out of Luke's mouth before Saint was tugging his shirt up, Luke awkwardly helping to pull it over his head. Saint tossed it to the ground without a second glance. No, his gaze was caught by the expanse of bare skin now before him, tan and muscular and finally he was allowed to look and touch. He'd seen Luke in the locker room hundreds of times, but he wasn't allowed to look in there, wasn't allowed to want. It hadn't stopped him of late, but here, in the privacy of Luke's own bedroom, he didn't have to hide his lust. And he could look for as long as he pleased. 

“You…” he breathed, running his hands down Luke's chest. He arched into the touch. “You are so goddamn beautiful.”

Luke didn't answer, but he opened his eyes and watched, want clear in his gaze. Saint kissed down his chest, and he could feel Luke's breaths heaving in his lungs, could feel his quick heartbeat. His breath caught for a moment as Saint kissed his pectoral muscle, tongue flicking over his nipple. Luke arched into the touch as Saint traveled lower, licking and biting and kissing. 

He found a small tattoo on his right hip, two neat lines of cursive script Saint but seen many times before but had never been able to read in full. Life, although it may only be an accumulation of anguish, is dear to me, and I will defend it. Saint ran a gentle finger across the words. 

“What does it mean?” he asked. 

“It's uh, it's not exactly a happy story,” Luke warned. Saint just shrugged. Luke smiled, a bit sad. “It’s from Frankenstein. My dad’s favorite book. I got it after he died.” 

“Oh.” Saint wasn’t sure what to do with that. Although he supposed he had been warned. 

“I did warn you.” 

“Stop reading my mind,” Saint frowned. 

“Yeah. Okay.” Luke's voice sounded strained. “As enjoyable as this conversation is, your hand is on my dick and if you don't do something about that soon I'm going to just do it myself.”

Saint could only laugh at that, after a moment of stunned silence. He always found himself in awe of Luke, at how he could switch the mood of a room in a heartbeat. He stayed quiet a lot of the time, making his words that much more invaluable. Luke craved his words the way he craved water.

“I'm going to take your pants off now,” Saint said when he stopped laughing. 

“Thank you so much for informing me,” Luke said dryly, and Saint laughed again. The laughter caught in his throat as he undid the button of Luke's jeans and slid the zipper down. Luke pressed his hips up into Saint's touch, his ass lifting off the mattress. 

“Faster, c'mon,” he groaned. 

“So impatient.” 

But Saint tugged the jeans over strong thighs obediently, uncovering the delicate ink he knew he'd find on Luke's right thigh. 

“You gonna tell me about this one too?” he asked while throwing his pants to the side. Luke was left in just his boxers, straining against the thin fabric. Saint ran a hand over the bouquet of flowers so carefully drawn on Luke's skin, following it with his tongue. Luke jerked under him. 

“For my mom,” Luke panted. “Now ask about the snake and anchor another time, would you?” 

Saint looked up at him with a smirk. “Well the snake I've seen but where's the anchor?” 

“Ankle. And that was so not the point.” 

Saint just shrugged. Luke reached up for him then, tugging him down by the waist. Saint laughed as he fell, catching himself with his arms bracketing Luke's head. The movement pressed Saint's thigh between Luke's legs, and he could feel the rumble of a low moan in Luke's chest. Saint kissed him recklessly, unable to stop himself. Luke melted into the mattress and let him. He let Saint grab his wrists and hold them above his head, pressing their bodies flush together. 

“Will you take your goddamn clothes off now?” Luke panted into Saint's mouth. 

“Happily.”

Luke whined when Saint stood up, but it was momentary. Saint stripped his shirt and pants off quickly, standing bare before Luke in the golden lamp light.

“Fuck me,” Luke breathed, though whether it was an instruction or an exclamation Saint couldn’t be sure. “C’mere.”

Saint clambered over Luke's body, straddling his hips, bracketing his shoulders in with his arms. Luke's hands went to his hair and he let them, let Luke tug at his hair and bury his hands in it. 

“You still have your socks on, weirdo,” Luke muttered. 

“Really, that’s what you comment on? So do you.”

“Touché.” 

Luke wrapped his arms around Saint’s back then, fingers digging into the muscles of his shoulders. Saint tangled their feet together, letting his full weight fall on Luke and press them together until there wasn’t so much as an inch of space between them. Luke grabbed one of his hands, holding on tight, and Saint nearly wanted to cry at the desperate pressure there, the silent don’t go anywhere. Saint just squeezed back. 

Luke surprised him then by flipping them over, pushing Saint back into the mattress. Those strong thighs bracketed Saint’s hips, pushing down into him, pulling the breath from his lungs. It was a delicious, searing pressure, and his body screamed for more.

“Fuck me,” Luke breathed, a request this time. “Please.”

Saint grinned and rolled them back over. He loved the way the two of them worked together, the way they pushed and pulled like the ocean tide, giving and taking and giving some more. Saint would give Luke anything he asked for. 

“Do you have-”

“Bottom drawer.” Luke waved vaguely at his bedside table and Saint couldn’t help but smile. 

The moment he sat up again, Luke kissed him again, deep and greedy. Saint pushed his boxers down without breaking their kiss, and then Luke was bare before him, warm and safe and real. 

“God, you…” Saint trailed off. 

Saint had never seen Luke like this before, laid bare and turned on, cheeks flushed and eyes closed, smile hazy and wanting. He liked it, liked having Luke under his hand like this. As he began working Luke open, he wondered why it had taken so long. 

“Bash,” Luke whispered, and that jolted Saint from his thoughts. He hadn’t heard Luke use his real name in years, possibly not since they’d first met. It sounded sweeter in this light, far more intimate.

“Why’d you call me that?” he asked softly, not stopping his hand. Luke groaned.

“It’s your name, isn’t it?” How he managed to joke in that moment, Saint would never know.

“Yeah, but… Well, no one’s called me Bash in ages.” 

Luke blinked up at him. “Was it okay?”

Saint could only smile. “Do it again.” 

Saint added a second finger and Luke groaned his name, hips pushing up into his hand. He hunched down and pressed a kiss to Luke’s hip, the pretty, painful words tattooed into his skin, a memory Luke would always carry with him. 

“Bash, please,” Luke whined when Saint crooked his fingers. He just smiled and pulled away. Luke whined again at the loss of contact. “Saint.” 

Saint grinned as Luke looked up at him, panting. He was flushed from his cheeks to his chest, gorgeous and glowing. He didn’t look away, couldn’t, as he slowly pressed in, watching Luke’s face so carefully. Luke’s eyes slipped shut at the sensation, his head falling back against the pillow.

“Open your eyes,” Saint whispered. Luke did. His pupils were blown, gaze hazy, but he looked straight at Saint, smiling even as he gasped for breath, even as he arched his back and their hips met. 

Saint could barely breathe as he moved, Luke a tight, warm heat around him, his body sweaty and familiar. He kissed Luke’s sternum, tasting the salt on his skin. It was the sweetest thing he’d ever tasted. Luke’s hands were in his hair again, buried deep in his curls, not tugging but rather just holding him there, holding the two of them together, in place.

“God, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” Luke groaned. Saint looked at him sharply.

“You have?”

He scoffed playfully. “Don’t look so surprised.”

“I am surprised.” 

Luke looked up at him. “Saint if you don’t know how much I want you, you clearly haven’t been paying attention.”

Saint stopped moving entirely. Luke just watched him.

“You really didn’t know?” Saint shook his head silently. “Now you do, I guess.”

Still reeling, Saint started moving his hips again, pulling another moan from Luke’s pretty lips. He looked ethereal in this light, strands of hair spilling across the white pillowcase, eyes wide, cheeks flushed, tan skin glowing. Saint's chest warmed at the thought that only he got to see Luke like this, taken apart in the safety of his bedroom, giving himself wholly over to Saint to do as he pleased. It did funny things to his heart he didn't want to think about yet. 

Luke groaned his name beneath him, crying out a warning as he came. Saint held him through it, kissing the gasps and whispers right from Luke's lungs. He stayed still as Luke clutched at his back, holding him in place, begging silently. 

“Luke,” Saint groaned out and he too was coming, buried deep inside Luke. Luke, who whispered his name so softly, lips at his temple, hands smoothing down his sweaty back. Luke, who held him in place when he went to pull out, keeping them together, as close as two people could be, breaths mingling as they slowly came down. 

Saint could feel the breaths slowing in Luke's chest, the rise and fall beneath him becoming more even. Luke brushed sweaty blond curls from Saint's face, gently, as if Saint were something precious, fragile, about to break. Oddly, it soothed him, the soft care. He relaxed into him, Luke taking his weight without a sound, head falling onto his chest. They were both sweaty and sticky, desperately in need of a shower, but neither moved or made a sound, reveling in the peaceful quiet. Saint let his eyes slip shut and gave himself up to Luke's gentle touch. 

Luke pulled another orgasm from him that night with just his fingers and tongue, teasing and touching and kissing, bringing Saint right to the brink and keeping him there, a small mischievous smile playing at his lips in the soft light. When Saint swallowed him down in return, in the early hours of the morning, it took mere moments before Luke was crying out, hands clutching at Saint’s shoulders as he came. 

They lay together in Luke’s bed as the sun came up, tangled and sticky and sated, hovering somewhere between awake and asleep. But, tired as he was, Saint couldn’t tear his gaze away from the picture on Luke’s dresser. It was of the two of them at a party, nearly a year ago. He remembered it being taken. Luke’s arms were around him and he was smiling, for once; his faded blue hat sat on Saint’s own head like it always did, hiding wild blond curls. 

They looked happy in that photograph. Saint didn’t know where it was from, how Luke had gotten it. Nor did he know why it sat framed in his bedroom. It tugged at his heart in a way he couldn’t quite discern, but he couldn’t quite seem to stop. He couldn’t help but wonder how long it had sat there, displayed, for Luke to glance over at every day. 

Saint thought back to Luke’s words, the low admission of wanting him, for weeks, months, maybe even years. He wondered how he’d missed the signs. He wondered if he really cared. 

The picture on the dresser was a happy one, the two of them smiling as friends, teammates. But maybe after all of this, Luke would let Saint replace it. Maybe Luke would let him take a new picture, of the two of them smiling as something more than friends, lovers or maybe even partners. Maybe Luke would let him in. And maybe Saint would let him.

#st. tweedle #luke x saint #rangers #me with my sexuality #18+ #confessions #they in love lol #first kiss #first time #relic keel #vaincre #lumosinlove

[mournus]

The wolf simply listened. An explanation that seemed so fitting for the angel. “Huh. Well I guess if that’s your preference. I hope you find someone worth it. I mean they are definitely out there. But you might have trouble meeting them if you keep spending all your time with us degenerates.” His last words had a teasing lilt.

The laughter and smiles faded. A certain softness on the wolf. “It’s frustrating and terrifying and can be incredibly painful. But yeah. It’s worth it. I mean the thing to understand is our relationships are far from normal. I fell for my alpha years later. Years after she had met the guy and started fucking him. And she and her mate didn’t get together until years after he’d already gotten close with the gal twin. Keep in mind this wasn’t even just about us five. My chick and her mate….they are both very prolific. I mean he was out here doing orgies and she was popping her legs open to just about any one that asked. Being how they are, their options would be to make it work, cut off a lot of important people in their lives, or don’t be together. It’s not just about sex. Even if my alpha stopped fucking people, it doesn’t mean she’d stop loving them. Just means she would have to cut off part of their relationship. Which I guess to me just doesn’t seem fair. I was in her life longer, but she was romantically involved with many of them for a pretty long damn time. Some of them had saved her life. Protected her. Kept her grounded when the pack wasn’t around. I mean there’s this one dude I particularly hate. But she literally would have died without him. Just like she would have died without her mate. Love is weird as fuck. Maybe monogamy would come with less bullshit. Maybe not. But our system is kinda working. “ (Saint to Luke)

The angel chuckled softly, "I believe it will come to me at the right time, from the right person. I am not worried about going out of my way to find love. Perhaps I should be, if I really want to find it." He hummed in thought, "But, I suppose, I don't really mind for now. I'm happy as I am. Is that bad?"

Luke tried to listen, tried to follow along, but it was... mind-boggling! Mind-boggling, and a lot of information at once. A lot of information he hadn't asked for. Gosh. Saint talked a lot.

"I... well, as long as it works for you, that's all once can ask for, isn't it?" Luke smiled weakly. "I think I'm too old-fashioned for things like this. I just want one person I can focus on and give everything to."

#answered #meet luke #V: Light!Luke #luke x saint #sentimentalscientia

[suchalonelysunflower]

Den of Vipers

Sinners and Saints: Chapter 1

Pairing: Mafia! Ashton Irwin x Fem! Hemmings! Reader

Word count: 5.8 k

Summary: Devastating news forces you to knock on the door of the last person you’d ever want to see.

Warnings: Death, murder, blood, guns, mentions of drugs, abuse, torture, kidnapping, language. Some gramatical errors (English is not my first language, I’m sorry)

Author’s Note: Hiya! Welcome to my new series. I won’t have a taglist anymore, so any way you can support this, whether it is a reblog, comment or like, would be very much appreciated ❤️ Hope you like it and Happy reading 🌻✨❤️

Series Masterlist

The roaring sound of the engine could be heard from your room, distracting you from the book you were so comfortably reading. A smile crossed your features as you jumped out of bed and made your way outside.

The sun was starting to set with the golden hour on the horizon. The image of your brother’s back walking out the door welcomed you for just a moment before you decided to jump on him, immediately making him drop the small amount of luggage he was carrying.

“Since when do you leave without saying goodbye?” You laughed, perfectly koaling your way along his broad back.

The perks of being a little sister: you’re never too old or too heavy for piggyback rides from your siblings.

Luke groaned a laugh “Since I figured I could be free from your ass a few minutes longer”

You jumped off him “You don’t mean that”

“Of course not,” He smiled, pulling you into a hug. “I was going to go up to your room in a few minutes”

It was always like this when he had to leave. Ever since he started helping your father at work, he’s been gone most of the time, barely having any time for you. It was no secret that Luke was your favorite amongst your brothers, nor did he hide the fact that you were his favorite as well. It was just the way it is, having just two years distancing you of age he became your best friend from the beginning. And it was not like you were allowed many friends either - or rather, no one wanted to be your friend because of your last name.

Luke got that, everyone in the family did. But growing up made it harder for you than your brothers. Being the only girl in the family does that.

“How long are you leaving this time?”

Luke sighed “Dad said it’s only for a week, but you know him”

“So I should expect you by the end of the month” You answered him, trying to hide the hurt in your smile “Can’t you come back early? At least for a few days?”

“Why?” He asked with a puzzled expression “Is there something important happening or…?” You punched him, he laughed “Of course I’ll try to be here for your birthday, little thunder”

And if Luke said he would try, he meant it.

He kissed your forehead before a loud honk could echo throughout the house.

“Someone’s impatient” You rolled your eyes.

“We gotta love him” Luke shrugged, grabbing his luggage and giving you one last look “Take care, Y/N”

“You, too! I’ll see you when you get back”

“I’ll bring you a present!”

You stayed at the door until you watched the car disappear through the gates. Little did you know what would happen next.

*

The brain works in funny ways. Always reminding you of things you would rather forget.

It’s been a week since “it” happened, but there wasn’t a day where you didn’t relieve it at least once.

The rain against the window; the loud knocks on the door. You were sitting in the kitchen, putting the last candles on your birthday cake, anxious about the promise Luke made you as you looked at the clock. How did they let the police just pass through the gate like that? Maybe the guards knew it was urgent. How you walked down the hall, careful just to eavesdrop without being noticed, just in time to watch your mother fall to her knees, her beautiful party dress ruined as the most horrifying sound left her mouth.

Then, it was all a blur.

People dressed in black. Your father having meetings after meetings behind closed doors, always catching your eye before the familiar click of the lock filled the silence. How the rain felt against your skin as the casket containing your brother's body was lowered down to the ground, never to be seen again. Your mother’s tears. The fake “I’m sorry for your loss” speeches. Your father's stone-cold expression as his hand covered your shoulder with some sort of affection. The silence that came afterward.

But it couldn’t end like that. It wasn’t right.

“We need to find him,” You told your father after the funeral.

He was sitting behind his desk, looking the oldest you’ve ever seen him. His eyes weren’t even focusing on you, almost as if he were also lost.

The first time he lost a son, Ben, your oldest brother, it made him cold as ice. It helped him build the empire he had now, grown on the blood of the enemies he took down along the way. You were just a child then, not older than thirteen, but you remember how fast things started to change. How friends stopped being friends, how business never meant the same thing again, how your mother stopped smiling as the jewels in her chest started growing.

But this is different.

“Dad,” You begged, hating how you sounded like a little kid again.

“There is nothing we can do, Y/N,” He said, coldly.

That’s who Robert Hemmings was, never sugarcoating anything. He tried, albeit your mother’s begging, to keep you out of the know of the family business. You were their only daughter, their little Angel, what good would it do to drag you into this world of madness and blood? It seemed like she didn’t know you at all.

“So you’re just going to sit there and do nothing?!” Your voice rose with every word.

Your father didn’t dignify you with a response, instead, he chose to sit back and close his eyes. For the first time in years, you realized just how old your father was getting. The creases upon his face were as deep as the dark circles under his eyes. His white hair was getting thinner by the hour, and the spots on his skin seemed to be growing.

For a second you wondered just how much time it had passed since you saw him smile, since you spent time with him like you used to when you were a little kid. But you were not a kid anymore, and the man in front of you did not seem like your father at all.

He seemed tired, he probably was after all of this. But you were tired as well, tired of so, so many things that you were done keeping quiet for.

“He is still out there,” You said, more quietly this time “I know he is”

“Y/N…” He sighed, rubbing the pads of his fingers on his temple, trying hard to come up with the right words before he exploded in a fit of anger as he usually does with his subordinates “You heard what the police said. You read the reports even though we told you not to-”

“The reports said they only found one body, dad. One!” You wanted to scream, to shake some sense back into him but for what? You could already see the lost battle before it even began “Maybe Luke wasn’t in the car, maybe-”

“The car was completely burned out! They found his jewelry, some bones- Y/N I don’t know how else to tell you! They’re dead!”

“Jack is dead,” You said somberly “Jack’s body is the only one that they found. Jack’s the one six feet below. Not Luke”

Robert sat back in his chair, shaking his head as you continued with your ranting.

“The bones couldn’t be identified, so it could be one poor soul that got the short end of the stick. It could be one of the collateral damage, as you call them, right dad? Could be fucking anyone! Luke could still be out there, he could be in trouble and we’re sitting here doing nothing-!”

A loud bang interrupted you. Your father’s fist was tense over his desk after he banged on it, not caring about the glass of water that tipped over and was now spilling over the edge of the mahogany. The vein on his neck was trembling as well as his jaw, but his eyes weren’t focused on you. Instead, he looked down, eyes wide and unreadable with every emotion hidden and swallowed by his pride.

Still, that didn’t scare you.

“Jack would’ve wanted for us to find him”

“Don’t you fucking talk about your brother” Robert spat.

“Someone has to!” You stood up, letting the foot of the chair drag against the floor. You have never stood up to your father before, but it was time to change some things around the Hemmings' household “You know I’m right”

“Y/N, Luke is dead,” He said, finally looking straight at you. The helplessness in his eyes took you by surprise “The sooner you accept it, the better. The ceremony for his remains will be-”

“No! That’s not him!” You nearly cried, but you promised yourself not to. Not in front of him. Not ever “I’m not going to mourn a stranger standing in his place”

Your father just shook his head, letting his hands distract him as he sorted out the papers on his desk.

“Dad,” You demanded his attention, leaning over his desk “Dad!”

No response, no reaction.

“Fine,” You said, voice laced with anger “I’ll go find someone who will pay attention to me”

You started to walk away, not looking back as your nails dug into the flesh of your palm, cutting the skin to distract you from crying out of rage and disappointment. This was not how you expected he would react. You didn’t expect him to give up just like that.

The merciless boss of one of the biggest mafia rings in the country… giving up for his son.

“Y/N,” He called out before you closed the door behind you, making you stop in your tracks but you refused to look at him “I’m thinking of selling the business”

Those words left you frozen in place, a drop of cold sweat dripping down your back as you turned to him, clear fear in your eyes.

“What?”

Robert, stoic as usual, didn’t look up as he signed over something.

“The Luccas made an offer” He explained in so little detail “I believe it’ll be for the best”

“For the best?!” You scoffed, feeling completely betrayed. A new low you believed your father could never be able to reach “For the best of whom? Your conscience? Breaking news, dad. You don’t have one. Cause if you did, you would never-”

You pressed your lips together, shushing the lump in your throat that threatened to escape in a sob. You took a deep breath and turned to your father.

“I hope you know this is the last time I’ll ever talk to you again if you dare to sell it to them. To him”

“That’s not your decision to make”

“Then consider me dead along with the rest of your children. You’re good at that”

The banging on the door was heard all over the house along with your shoes stomping on the floor.

*

He could laugh. Was it possible that they were that stupid?

It wasn’t a rare occurrence for Calum Hood and Michael Clifford to come at him for help, but really? Drugs?

“This has to be the stupidest thing you’ve ever asked me,” He said, both Calum and Michael shifted a little in their seats.

There they were, sitting in comfortable velvety cushion seats with leather handles; drinking a whiskey that was probably older than them; hands adorned with expensive jewelry and dressed in the finest suits they could afford. And they were afraid.

It was normal, of course, to feel intimidated by him. After all, his reputation preceded him as one of the deadliest men in the country. His successful deals gave him millions, and the ones that weren’t as successful still made him a threat. Men feared him or wanted to be him. Women fell at his feet on their knees and not just to beg for mercy.

There was no wonder why he was nicknamed “Lucifer” given that his eyes resembled the evil and cruelty of Alexander Cabanel’s painting. There was no good left in him, not that anyone knew. Not that he would show proof of that.

Ashton Irwin was a proud man, a respectable man. And the two men in front of him knew it, so why waste their time?

Both Calum and Michael were famous around town as well. The prodigal son, Calum Hood, became a household name after he took on the family business after holding his father at gunpoint to sign the papers for him. Soon, he enlisted Michael Clifford, a wizard in technology and heir to his own fortune - albeit a bit small - as his right-hand man. They made themselves known in the business, and even Ashton had to admit that it was surprising how quickly they went up the ladder amongst the other families he knew. But, as any rookies, they made a few mistakes and asked a lot of favors that they were now trying to amend.

“Calum, how’s your girl?” Ashton asked, leaning back on his chair, pretending that their request was never asked in the first place “Still running that bookshop back on Seventh Street?”

The smirk on Ashton’s face might not have meant anything else but a taunt to Calum. But the latter didn’t like the way he said it, almost as if he knew that his girl was his only weakness.

“She’s good” He answered, trying not to give him the satisfaction of seeing him affected.

Ashton hummed, looking at the third guy who was standing near the mirror on the wall.

“It’s not nice to bring security and bodyguards for a talk with friends,” He said.

“Is that what we are?” Michael asked, “Is that what we’re doing?”

“You tell me, Clifford. Cause I know for sure that if you came to me as partners then we wouldn’t even have this conversation” Calum opened his mouth to speak but Ashton silenced him “Because as you know, I don’t make deals with lost causes, and right now I’m seeing two in front of me”

“Ashton-”

“There’s a thing called “unsaid agreements” in this business, Calum, I know you’re familiar with that. And that is we don’t shit where we eat. We don’t sell drugs in this city, we don’t make deals with the locals, and for fuck’s sake we don’t owe favors to the ones that don’t comply with this agreement” He pointed his finger at the two men in front of him “And you two fuckers did the three things together”

“Well, what choice did we have?!” Calum asked “The Luccas were threatening to take over our territory and-”

“And I don’t give a fuck about the Lucass’” Ashton spat “In fact…”

In one swift move, he took a gun under his desk and shot the security guard right in the head.

“WHAT THE-”

“FUCKING CHRIST”

The two men yelled and jumped as the gun went off. Splatters of blood could be found in their clothing and faces, but nothing compared to the smear of blood and brains that now dropped from the mirror. Ashton, as usual, sat back in his chair with a smirk and hid the gun. Not a single drop of blood hit him or his desk.

“WHY THE FUCK DID YOU DO THAT FOR?!” Calum yelled, trying to wipe the blood from his clothes, showcasing his lack of knowledge of the business.

“Cause he was wearing a microphone you jackass!” Ashton spat “Hidden on the belt, look it up”

Michael leaned down and he in fact found a small microphone hidden behind the buckle. He sighed as he showed it to Calum. The two men looked back at Ashton with tired looks filled with anger and embarrassment.

“Another advice,” He said “Don’t fucking invite newbies to “important” meetings”

“You think you’re so smart…”

“I know I’m smart, Hood, and I’m the best there is in this business so don’t you fucking forget it. There’s a reason you came to me and not to the bloody Bermans” He got up and walked up to Calum, grabbing his chin and pulling his closer “I’m the only chance you have but I don’t even know if you two idiots deserve it. So, admit it, Hood”

Calum rolled his eyes, but Ashton tightened his grip.

“Say it” He nearly whispered, looking straight into his eyes.

“Jesus fuck, fine. We need you, okay?”

Ashton smiled, letting go of Calm and patting him on the cheek “Atta boy”

Just in time, someone knocked on the door before opening it. A young blond girl dressed in a white crop top and leather pants peaked inside, only showing half of her body but her whole face.

“Sir?”

“Lauren, not now”

“There’s someone here to see you”

Ashton rolled his eyes “I don’t have time for it right now. Whatever or whoever it is, it can wait till at least for the cleaning to come up”

“I don’t think it can wait, sir. She’s very insistent. I’ve been trying to hold her back for twenty minutes now” Ashton gave her a look that made her roll her eyes “She says her name is angel and that it’s urgent”

Ashton perked up at the name. Slowly biting the inside of his cheek, he nodded and turned back toward his desk.

He clicked his tongue before looking toward Michael and Calum, and then back to his assistant.

“Bring her in and send the cleaning team to at least remove that idiot, please” Lauren nodded and closed the door. He looked at his desk, putting away some papers as he nonchalantly said “You two, out”

“What?!”

“This isn’t over, Irwin-”

“Yes, Clifford it is” He stared at them but barely raised his head “Now get the fuck out before I make you”

Ashton could only hear a string of murmured curses and then the door closing with a bang. He smirked, “Angel,” He whispered to himself in a singing, mocking tone “What have you gotten into”

*

The blonde girl looked familiar. Her smile showed some kindness that you weren’t used to seeing around these places, even when you first encountered her behind the bar. She didn’t ask questions other than your name and the reason for your sudden visit.

“He doesn’t see people without a previous appointment,” She said, handing one more beer to the drunken men who slurred their thank you’s to her.

“What, is he a doctor?” You chuckled humorlessly, but the girl didn’t laugh along with you. her bright blue eyes just showed pity and understanding. You sighed “Look, tell him is angel, he’ll see me”

The girl shrugged “I can’t promise you anything, doll. Just wait here”

Once she was out of sight through a backdoor, you took your time to scan the place. Ashton did outsell himself with this one.

“The Den of Vipers” was the most popular club in the city, having opened ten years ago when Ashton took over the family business, it was still filled with clients who wanted to get lost for a while. Ashton was good at making people disappear, and it showed. This place screamed his name wherever you would look.

The floor was a dark marble with white gold lines separating the tiles. There were booths against the walls, all made of velvet cushions and leather. The lights were low, and changing from blue to purple, to green and then white again as the music played, it was impossible to keep track of the people there thanks to it. The bar itself was made of bulletproof glass, standing proudly and mockingly in the middle of the dancefloor, surrounded by different bodies lost in the mindless music the DJ of the night put on, almost in trance and unaware of the things that happened behind the scenes.

Of course, this whole charade of a humble business owner was just Ashton’s front to the authorities - even though they always seemed to be on his side, many times you heard your father complain about it - but you knew the reality. In fact, you were sure that when the girl came back, you’d be led through the backdoor and into the real building. You’d walk through careful hallways that will eventually lead you to the owner’s real office.

And that is exactly what happened once she came back and guided you through cushioned, sound-proofed walls covered in dark green velvet. The lights of the halls were dimmed, giving the feeling of being watched at all times like a haunted house. And you wouldn’t have been surprised if that was the case, after all, Ashton could be anything but careless when it came to a negotiation.

Which is exactly why you’re here.

When you got to the door of his office, you didn’t need to knock as the door opened immediately. Two guys dressed in black came out carrying a bodybag, leaving the door open. You rolled your eyes because, of course, Ashton would make a big show.

“I’ll take it from here,” You said to the girl, giving her a small smile that she mirrored.

The first thing you saw when you came into the office was the desk. It had nothing but some papers and a lamp, no sign of family pictures or hobbies. It was common for the “big bosses” to keep their workplaces clean of any personal relationships, but coming from Ashton it seemed pretentious - at least for you.

The mirror still had blood stains on it and you could tell they were still fresh, even so you didn’t look twice. Blood and guts are not something that shocks you anymore, and that realization came with a whole can of worms you weren’t ready to open up yet. There were some stains on the floor and what you could assume was gunpowder residue, so you were careful not to step on those.

“I’d apologize for the mess, princess. But you and I both know it doesn’t matter”

You turned to find Ashton with his back facing you as he fixed a drink on his personal mini-bar. His broad shoulders and back were covered with the finest of suits - from Milan, everyone and their mothers wore clothes from Milan - his hair was longer than the last time you saw him.

When he turned around, however, it seemed like nothing had changed.

He looked mature, of course, twelve years can do that to someone. But his eyes were still the same shade of hazel you remember, only a bit more sadist. He looked good, and somehow you hated that. It was time to put the past in the past where it belonged and stop the memories before they cloud your mind. Still, something inside you kept telling you, urging you to let yourself go. What did it matter how he looked? But that thought came late for the half smile he wore as he walked up to you, made you realize that he caught you staring.

“Here,” He said, handing you a glass of whiskey and coke. How’d he know your favorite drink? that was a question for another time “I assume you’re a big girl now, princess”

You glared at him as you swallowed the whole glass in one go, never taking your eyes off him and his unimpressed look.

“‘m not a princess” You said, dryly “And I can make my own drink, thank you”

You pushed past him and walked toward the mini bar, fixing yourself another drink. It was clear that you didn’t need it, your mind was screaming and begging for you to keep a clear head while you were ahead and in front of Lucifer himself. But something in his smile… the way his eyes still treated you like a child, so condescending, brought something in you. A chance to prove yourself in front of him.

All your life you had to prove yourself in front of men like him. In front of women who think they were better than you because their hands didn’t get dirty as yours did. In front of your parents. Of Luke… How long until they realize that you are where you belong?

Once you finished making your drink you turned back to Ashton. His eyes roamed your body, shamelessly, he licked his lips briefly before a smug grin adorned his face, eyes looking straight at you.

“I can see that,” He said, leaning against his desk “So, angel, haven’t heard from you in a while”

You rolled your eyes “Don’t call me that”

“You’ve never seemed to mind it before”

“I’m not here to reminisce about the olden days, Irwin” You spat.

Ashton whistled “So the bitch can bark! Impressive. Who would’ve thought that the balls of the Hemmings family were hiding behind their youngest?” Your face turned red in anger as your fingers tensed around the glass. Ashton noticed and tauntingly walked toward you with a smirk and leaning to whisper in your ear “But guess what? Y/N, you still can’t bite”

Your body became hot at his proximity. The smell of his cologne filled your surroundings as the rage - or something else, something new - inside your stomach kept boiling. But before you could push him away, he was already pulling apart and going back to sit at his desk.

“Tell me, Y/N, what is a Hemmings doing here all by herself? Has daddy finally kicked you out?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, looking down unable to meet his eyes. You can’t believe you’re doing this, not with him. But there wasn’t any other choice.

“I need help,” You said, hating how those words sounded coming from you.

“Everybody does” He shrugged “Doesn’t mean they’re going to get it-”

“Ashton,” You finally looked back at him. The urgency of your voice and the fact that you called him by his name for the first time since you came here, took him by surprise as he listened “Jack’s dead”

Ashton’s eyes remained unchanged at your words, looking straight at you while his fingers played with his rings on the opposite hand. From his reaction, it was hard to guess that once upon a time he and the Hemmings’ siblings were inseparable, Jack being the closest of age to him and one of his first friends. Your eyes begged for him to do something, say something. To show you any indication that he might help.

The bond between your family and his broke a long time ago. You were barely a child, but you knew there was no going back to the summers filled with laughter and joy you all shared. In the blink of an eye - or at least that’s what it felt like as a child - The Irwins and the Hemmings were sworn enemies. And the friendship you had with Ashton vanished in thin air.

You and Luke took it the hardest, begging your mother to help you call the Irwin household so you could talk to Ash. Never understanding why suddenly her eyes filled with tears as she shook her head no and told you to play something else.

“He hates us,” Luke said to you once. It was another boring afternoon after you suggested calling him again. But Luke’s eyes were cold as ice, scaring you as he said “And we hate him”

And for a while that was it. You weren’t going to go against your brother, so the subject was finally dropped and you haven’t seen Ashton since. Or at least that’s what everyone thought.

But now, years after the fallout, you were hoping somehow that those words were a lie. Maybe Ashton could still hold some kind of fond memory of your families together. Anything to make you believe he might help you.

“My condolences,” He said after a while, no emotion hidden in his voice.

His comment made you angry, “Is that it?”

“What else do you want me to say?” He shrugged “People die every day, Y/N, it just the way it is”

“He was murdered”

“Shocker” Ashton scoffed with sarcasm “He was never the brightest of lads.”

“It was an ambush,” You said, unable to stop. “They were driving back home in the middle of the night when a string of bullets came raining down on the vehicle. Jack could barely escape before they found him and slit his throat. They burned the car afterward. And Luke-... Luke’s missing, Ashton”

Ashton nodded, pressing his lips in a thin line “He’s probably dead”

“No, he’s not”

And maybe it was because of your determination, or the look in your eyes when you said it, almost as if you believed it. But Ashton grinned at your statement.

“No,” He said, “He’s not”

A small breath of relief escaped your lips. Finally, somebody believed you.

“Would you help me?”

“No”

“What?!”

Ashton shrugged “Why would I help you, little Hemmings? What makes you so entitled to come here and ask for my help after what your family did?”

“My family?” It caught you off guard, what did he know that you didn’t?

“And why aren’t they helping to find their beloved golden child?” Ashton mocked, standing up and circling his desk until he was once again in front of you “All the stories we hear about the young, promising Hemmings… I’m sure they were not talking about you”

You felt your cheeks heat up at the comment, grip tightening around the glass, nearly breaking it.

“I am shocked that they didn’t start a search party already. Has daddy Hemmings opened his eyes to his karma yet? Why should I care? Matter of fact, why should you?”

“He’s my brother,”

“Cute. Not enough, but thanks for trying” He nodded toward the door “See yourself out, angel. This isn’t your castle”

Ashton turned around, not even giving you a second glance. Your hand reached out to him, grabbing him by the arm and making him stop. There were probably a few people who could do that to him, even fewer the ones who were still alive to tell the story. He turned his eyes toward you, curiosity and anger hidden in those hazel marbles staring back at you and then at your hand on his arm.

The tension was clear, but it was a little too late to rethink that mistake. If this was your only shot, then you had to take it. You owe that much to Luke.

“I- I have no one, Ash,” You said, looking down, ashamed of your statement and how weak you sounded.

Ashton didn’t say a word, he didn’t move away either. He stood there, waiting for you to continue. And for the first time in a long time, you felt relieved that someone was at least willing to listen.

“I left them,” You told him, looking straight into his eyes “I left my family because they did not believe me. They can’t find Luke, they won’t even try. He’s the only person I have left and I won’t rest until I find him, with or without your help”

Ashton grinned maniacally, a shadow appearing in his eyes as he looked down at you. Now you understand why they called him Lucifer. For he once was one of God's most beautiful angels, but temptation and his own ego were his doom. And, as he leaned down, you couldn’t help but be entranced by that wicked smile as he said, nearly whispering.

“And what are you willing to do, angel?”

It was a challenge, you could see it in his eyes. A bait to lure you into a trap. And you took it.

“Anything”

Ashton’s smile widened as he freed himself from your grasp and walked over to his desk to grab a set of keys, pressing a little button on it.

“If I’m going to help you, little Hemmings - and I’m not saying I will just yet - you’ll have to resign your name and what comes with it. I’ll be dead before I help a Hemmings out of the sheer kindness of my heart”

You rolled your eyes “You don’t have a heart, Irwin. Is that all you want? I told you I left my father”

“I don’t need a rogue princess fumbling with my business” Ashton scoffed, “So whatever I say goes. You’re working for me, Hemmings, not the other way around” He walked closer to you again, his chest nearly hitting yours “If I say go, you go. If I say we stop, you stop. If I say get out of my sight, you better pray your little feet move fast. I don’t care who you are, what you are, or what you represent. If you fuck with me, I’ll fuck right back. And I go hard, angel. No intentions of having any kind of mercy. Understood?”

You challenged him with a look, trying to figure him out. But time was running out, and you didn’t have any other option.

“Yes.” You said, dryly.

Ashton clicked his tongue “Yes, what?”

“Don’t push it, Irwin” You took a step back “So, we have a deal?”

The doors to the office opened and two large, muscly men dressed in suits came in and stood quietly but threatening at the door. You crooked an eyebrow and looked back at Ashton.

“Friends of yours?”

“Acquaintances,” He said, walking over to them and getting out the door, only stopping for a second “You comin’?”

The two men walked behind you as you followed Ashton through the halls that first brought you there. The image of his broad shoulders walking under the low lights and out toward the club shielded you from any distractions. He would sometimes glance over his shoulder, a teasing smile pulling at the corner of his lips when he noticed you were still walking a few steps behind him.

People at the club were sweaty and unashamed. Bodies grinding against one another and along the beat of a dark EDM song. Some women and boys would walk up to Ashton, letting their hands grace the skin of his face and neck or arms as they each seductively said hello to him. It seemed as if they were enchanted by him, moved by a spell of lust as their eyes would meet his. They wanted him, they all wanted him. Ashton would smile, say their names, and acknowledge them with a hello before moving to another person, another step toward the exit.

Ashton led you through a door that led to another dark hallway. The music sounded muffled through the walls, blocking your ears at the sudden change of environment. Ashton walked a few steps ahead before he stopped and turned around toward you, hands in his pockets as he looked at you and grinned.

“Now what?” You asked, annoyed “Any other fan of yours that we need to greet?”

Ashton chuckled and shook his head.

“No, just precautions”

“Precautions? Why would you-”

“Sorry, angel”

And with a snap of his fingers, the world went black.

*

#ashton irwin #5 seconds of summer #suchalonelysunflower #5sos #calum hood #michael clifford #luke hemmings #sinners and saints #ashton irwin smut #ashton iriwn fic #5sos fic #5 seconds of summer fanfiction #ashton x reader #don’t blame me for what you made me do #ashton 5sos #ashton 5 seconds of summer #ashton irwin fanfiction #5sos fanfic #5SOS smut #5SOS au #mafia au

[queerjesusthelord]

By the time we came out of the building, the brightness had gone from the sky and the first snowflakes were drifting down. Arm in arm, we walked down to the embankment. We spent a long time there, but no one took any notice of us. We were just two women gazing out over the frozen Neva river, in the fading light of a Russian winter afternoon.

— Luke Jennings, Killing Eve: Die For Me

#killing eve #villaneve #eve x villanelle #villanelle #eve x oksana #eve polastri #jodie comer #sandra oh #eve x villanelle kiss #Luke Jennings #codename villanelle #die for me #killing eve canon #killing eve art #killing eve quotes #killing eve book #saint petersburg #wlw post #wlw

[syd-carm]

#literally the minute i found out we're getting s3 content on june 17 i had fcpx open and readyyyy 😤 #polin #colin x penelope #colin bridgerton #penelope featherington #bridgerton #mine: video #i know that the first two seasons were all bout pen's unrequited love for colin #but making this video made me realize just how truly soft uwu mooneyed baby colin is for her 🥺...the way he says 'pen'....kill me dead #luke newton you are a menace and also a saint

[itscherrylipsforme]

Taking a moment to remind you that my Saint Valentine's event is still open and I am taking request for all the prompts. However, the 🎶 and 💌 prompts have not been choosen yet and I would really like to write some of them too if you want me to. So come on! Don't be shy, my inbox is waiting for your!

#always hopeless sometimes romantic event #saint valentine's event #requests are open #luke castellan x reader #rodrick x reader #bruce wayne x reader #charles xavier x reader #poe dameron x reader #bucky barnes x reader #miguel o'hara x reader

[loveyou-4-life]

𝐃𝐎𝐍’𝐓 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐌𝐄 𝐌𝐄— thomas bordeleau

summary: Thomas never really admitted that he had feelings for his best friend. That’s until he feels the pit of pain in his stomach when he sees you getting proposed, he decides to finally let his feelings out on your weeding day.

requests are open !!

warnings: , mention of sex. mature language. reader having she/her/hers pronouns. lowercase intended.

authors note: i did another one of these because i had fun writing the last one.

materlist.

Don′t blame me, love made me crazy. If it doesn't, you ain′t doin' it right. Lord, save me, my drug is my baby. I'll be usin′ for the rest of my life.

—

thomas and y/n. y/n and thomas. it was always like that, just you two against the world. for 12 years you and thomas we’re best friends, you still are.

he was older by a year so naturally he was protective of you. you guys always say your future together with each other, you went to the same schools all your life and had the same after school activities and also always had the same friends.

so went you started to date guys and he started dating and occasionally hooking up with girls, you guys never mingled in each others love lives. although when you were younger you always told each other when you had a new crush, now you two rarely talked about your that aspect of your life.

so naturally it came to a shock to thomas when he found out you invited your boyfriend as your plus one.

boyfriend, weird.

you and thomas, both, we’re invited to a wedding of one your friend’s . thomas and you would always be each others plus one that’s why you alarmed thomas early that you invited your boyfriend.

he was shocked questioning you why you didn’t tell him, saying he was your best friend. you simply answered with a “we-never-really-talk-about-our-sex-lives”.

and with that he was invited to dinner with you and your boyfriend. he didn’t get the pit unknown feeling in his stomach that built when you told him the news.

I′ve been breakin' hearts a long time. And toyin′ with them older guys. Just playthings for me to use

the day came with him meeting and the clock was ticking, you just finished setting up the table making thomas’ favorite. your boyfriend came downstairs and gave you a peck on the cheek. that was thomas’ thing.

but it never really had an affect on you when albert did it, whenever thomas did it, you would always get a pink rose color all over your cheeks.

it always had that affect on you, you still remembered when thomas did it when you guys first met and it became thomas’ thing.

— 2008 —

little y/n loved her dolphin stuffed animal, she never went anywhere without it , she quickly became attached to it. she actually named him dopie.

she was gripping it in her hand while she was watching the kids play in the playground. she was scared and new to the school, nobody really approached her since nobody knew who she was.

suddenly she heard the bells of a candy truck. she squealed before grabbing her mothers hand and dragging her towards it.

when she got her ice cream she turned to her mother to ask for dopie but soon her smile fell when she didn’t see him no where in her mothers hand.

“mommy wheres dopie?” little y/n asked. her mothers eyes went wide, y/n was soon going to be panicking and having a full temper tantrum.

“why don’t we go check the bench and then if we don’t find him don’t panick i’ll report it to the police” her mother reassured y/n. y/n nodded her eyes filled up with tears. when she went back to the bench she found a boy gripping dopie tightly.

she smiled, dopie was there. she went up running to the boy, her mother on her tail.

“that’s my dopie” she said softly to him. he made eye contact with her, he gave her a cheeky smile before nodding and extending dopie towards her.

“i wanted to protect him for you so he doesn’t get stolen” he whispered. she thanked him and asked if he wanted any candy. he gladly took some and they soon went to comfortable silence. young thomas wanted to be her friend, so he started a conversation about a new cartoon that just came out.

young y/n was excited that she finally had thomas, and since she had finally met someone who had watched her favorite cartoon.

when thomas’ mother came to get thomas, thomas turned to y/n. hugging her and kissing her cheek softly, y/n flushed, her cheeks turning pink and said her goodbyes.

— END OF FLASHBACK —

from that moment on those two never went anywhere without each other.

Something happened for the first time. In the darkest little paradise. Shakin', pacin′, I just need you

when you heard the door bell ring, you immediately went opening the door, albert behind you in your tail.

when you saw thomas behind the door you immediately when flying your best friends arms. “Hi” you whispered in your bestfriends neck. thomas chuckled kissing your cheek, you flushed your cheeks turning red. you pulled back when you remembered you had another presence around.

“thomas this is my boyfriend, albert” you introduced the two to each other. thomas smiled at him and albert returned it to him shaking his hand.

throughout the dinner you noticed something different to thomas, but you thought it was just your overthinking. actually you were right, while you thought the dinner went well thomas was tired from faking his smile.

— 2 WEEKS LATER —

the day of your friends wedding came and you were excited and both nervous. you hadn’t seen briss nor bords for about two months now and you couldn’t wait to see their faces again. while you and briss still talked daily, thomas had been acting weird since dinner with you and albert. almost like he was ignoring you, either being dry or being on delivered for hours, or him dodging your daily calls.

when you went to the reception your eyes immediately went to thomas, albert kissing your cheek saying he was gonna go say hi to one of his friend.

thomas eyebrows came together, that was his thing.

you sighed, your chest rising. you signaled your head towards the back room where the door had a sign saying “staff only” but both of you chose to ignore that.

when thomas first walked in, y/n was behind him.

“what has gotten into you” you questioned

“nothing” thomas shrugged.

“i call bull shit you’ve been ignoring me” you spat, a pout formed on her lips. thomas tried to hide his smile, she looked cute. what? stop

“look you have your responsibilities now and i do too” he declared. y/n eyebrows came together. did he mean albert?

“do you mean albert?” y/n questioned her thoughts questioning. thomas really didn’t have any excuse for how he was ignoring her, so he went with the reasoning y/n thought.

“yes i mean albert, now you have somebody else to bother and you still seem to not get the hint to leave me alone, so stop calling me seven hundred times a day” he snapped. you were shocked, your mouth opened but nothing seemed to come out of it.

“y/n-” thomas tried to apologize but was cut off by albert coming in saying he needed to show you your surprise.

you walked out, your hand gripping alberts and suddenly everybodys attention was on you. thomas eyed briss and briss only gave him sympathy eyes. whats going on?

For you , i would cross the line I would waste my time

but when albert brought you to the middle of the room and everybody was waiting anxiously for something, everybody and everything seemed to go blank. thomas was seeing albert going on one knee and he only saw you crying and saying yes while everybody celebrated around you.

while everybody on the wedding was celebrating love, he was drowning himself in pity for the love he realized he had for his best friend.

I would loose my mind. They say, she’s gone too far this time.

—6 MONTHS LATER wedding day—

he had gotten the invitation, of course he had. he was your best friend. yes in past tense.

you both hadn’t talked since the fight or since albert proposed.

thomas decided to share his feelings so the pit feeling would go away. no he wasn’t being selfish, he thought that you should know so that you knew why he ignored you.

when he walked in your hotel suite holding his present to you in his hand, your bridesmaids immediately went from being hectic to the place being quiet.

your best friend stepped up greeting him. but before she could ask how he was he immediately cut to the chase

“Wheres y/n?” thomas questioned. your best friend pointed towards a door to another room.

he knocked hearing you say come in. when he walked in, your eyes went wide.

“You came” a small hope filled smile went across your face.

“Yeah i did, i got you something” he said handing over the box. y/n put the brush down grabbing the box. when she opened it she was shocked to find a replica of dopi the dolphin she lost when she was 10.

“thomas thank you oh my god where did you find this?” you questioned standing up pulling thomas in a tight hug before pulling back and looking at the stuffed animal again while biting your lip , an excited look on your face.

thomas couldn’t wait any longer, he needed to tell her. he knew that it was fucked up to ruin her special day but he needed to get it off his chest.

“y/n i love you, and not as a friend or a best friend i love you but as a love-of-my-life love you” he examined. you froze. your eyes widened. “thomas-”

“no please y/n let me talk okay i’m sorry okay?i’m sorry for ignoring you but its better to ignore you than for you to reject me and i don’t care any longer and i have to give you a thousand i’m sorrys but let me start with i’m sorry for coming to tell you this today but i need to know that these 12 years that we’ve been best friends, have ever felt something for me? or i’m sorry for being selfish and not being happy for you that you’re finally having your fairy tale wedding but i can’t be happy for you unless its me waiting for you at the end of that alter while your father gives you to me , i love you and while i’ve been sorry for that these 6 months i’m proud of it now” he said out of breath. tears filled up in y/n eyes, but thomas knew those tears and they certainly weren’t happy ones. so he walked out without letting you say anything.

—

thomas was in the bathroom, his eyes showed numbness. the pit feeling in his stomach was now gone , so he didn’t have anything in him anymore.

the bathroom door stormed open, hitting the wall behind it. thomas looked up and an out of breath brendan came in.

“alberts…looking fo… for you” he said having trouble, trying to catch his breath. thomas eyebrows shot up.

he definitely was going to get kicked out of the wedding now.

when he went to the bachelor suite looking for albert, he walked in and albert stood there dressed in a suit. suddenly he was reminded he was going to get married to the girl of his dreams, lucky bastard.

“get dressed thomas, y/n told me to break the news to you that either she’s going to call off the wedding or you’re going to be the one waiting for her at the end of the alter” he said. what?

now here they stood both at the end of the altar, him saying his improvised vows and he couldn’t be more prouder to say that him being stupid and fighting that day on their friends wedding would lead him to here, kissing his now wife.

Don’t blame me , love made me crazy. If it doesn’t, you ain’t doing it right. Lord save me, my drug is my baby. I’ll be using for the rest of my life.

—

part two?

#thomas bordeleau blurbs #thomas bordeleau imagines #thomas bordeleau x reader #thomas bordeleau imagine #thomas bordelau #umich #saint jose sharks #nhl #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #hockey imagines #hockey imagine #kent johnson #brendan brisson #nick blankenburg #mark estapa #owen power #luke hughes #jack hughes #matty beniers #ethan edwards #i hate this byee

[hecksee]

Safe With Me

Hex? Hex posted a @lumosinlove oc fic in the year of 2022? After being MIA in the fandom for like a year and a half? More likely than you think

Anyways have this Vaincre St. Tweedle. I havent read Vaincre, so uh *thumbs up*

As always thanks to Haz for the characters, thank you to @peggyrose19 for the help with my boys, and @wonder-womans-ex for being a god and the best ever.

---

The sound of the bedroom door slamming echoed through the apartment, leaving Luke staring at the hallway where Saint had stormed off to. Luke’s ears were ringing, the silence being a stark difference from the shouting that had just taken place. It was unsettling. The calm before the storm, although, Luke supposed, that wasn’t right. More like the eye of a hurricane; everything unnaturally still and unsuspecting before the intense storm resumes.

He knew that Saint wasn’t mad at him, not really. They’d gotten into fights before, big blow-up ones happened more often than not when they’d first met, with their assigned rooming together freshman year. Fights over where they’d left their textbooks, where the food was put in the fridge, where their gear was stored; anything and everything was cause for an argument. 

But this wasn’t like that. It happened occasionally, Saint got overwhelmed and lashed out. Saint didn’t come from the safest environment to be vulnerable in. In foster care, it was safer to lash out, to mask your emotions with anger and get into fights to release the tension. That was Luke’s guess at least, old habits die hard; Luke knew that himself.

read more on ao3 here

#st. tweedle #saint lumosinlove #luke deveaux #luke deveaux x saint #lumosinlove #sweater weather #vaincre #sweater weather lumosinlove #lumosinlove sweater weather #lumosinlove vaincre #idk what else to tag this with lmao

[wettestwraith]

fandoms need to fucking understand nuance holy shit

#dsmp #dream smp #sxf #spy x family #YEAH IM TAGGING YALL #i got to the yor cooking episode and was so shocked like camilla is more than just a fucking bitch #i dont forgive her for being mean to yor dont get me wrong #but wow she actually has character huh #pjo #genshin impact #why did everyone instantly forgive ei like please i need more to acknowledge how flawed she is and no i dont mean her cooking #also yall hate luke castellan so much like he had a point my guys. i hate what he did to annabeth but he was compelling for a reason #should i...? #toh #its so interesting to me that belos keeps cloning his brother #like obviously its so he could have his 'brother' be loyal to him forever but even that is so interesting #btw i hate how yall treated rachel dare back then #dc #STOP PRETENDING LIKE TALIA AND BRUCE AND ALFRED ARE FUCKING SAINTS #also stop demonizing wilbur #like i get it guys hes such a bitch but its complicated okay??

[supercutszns]

rotten to the touch; luke castellan

series masterlist

wc: 3.2k

pairing: pre-tlt luke castellan x f! reader

synopsis: you’re pretty sure you’re an awful person. you’re pretty sure luke castellan is too. and you’re pretty sure you want to make out with him.

warnings: reader is flawed & not the greatest, luke is ... a little dark🫣, small mention of blood, swearing, lots of making out but no explicit nsfw, a bit toxic, & no more more ‘i can fix him’ or ‘i can make him worse’ it’s ‘he can make ME worse’

notes: this is… sluttier than my usual stuff so it’s not as good but i’m trying, feedback is appreciated! also i wonder what cabin we think this reader would be in, let me know where you’d place her im curious :) maybe i’ll write more of her in the future she’s interesting!! and thank you for 100 followers i am so grateful<3 designated song for this fic is crush by ethel cain

You are a miserable, wicked, asshole of a person, and everybody knows it. Including you.

It’s unclear to you why you turned out this way—every reason to blame never satiates the fury searing your insides. All the campers hate you. The counsellors, too. Even Chiron looks down on the viciousness inside you. You are Camp Half-Blood’s black sheep; a mean, bitter person with no love for the people around you. And it’s not just for show. You know you’re rotten. You know the anger will never go away.

It’s evident in the things you think about other people—the way you pick them apart in your head, toss them aside, because they just don’t see it. This miserable, unforgiving world, with children sleeping on wooden floors because the people who created you think you disposable. Because they can just make more of you. More, more, more, until one of you comes out rotten, born of all the ugliness they have inside them. You are the worst parts of Godly blood. The wrathful parts.

Everyone hates you. Everyone hates a person with an unquenchable anger.

But everyone loves Luke Castellan.

He’s a saint at Camp Half-Blood if there ever was one. Handsome, generous, kind. Goes out of his way to help out the new kids and gives them homes in his cabin. He’s the best swordsman in camp by a mile. Shit, you’d even love Luke Castellan if you didn’t know any better.

But you do, and you don’t, and it’s complicated, okay?

Because there’s something you know about Luke Castellan that nobody else does: he’s miserable and wicked, too.

You see it in his eyes sometimes. The way they look at you at dinner, when you’re picking at your food away from anyone else at your table. Something familiar rises in them, and your stomach twists. His body tenses whenever someone mentions his father, but the smiles he flashes are so charismatic nobody notices. But you do. It’s exciting.

During sword practice, he quips back and forth with the kids and laughs whenever they take a jab at him. He’s light, easy, carefree. But you see how he holds back, the tension in his shoulder, the way the arc of his sword never fully finishes. So you wait until everybody leaves and he’s alone, with the training dummies and the setting sun. And you. Hiding.

He slashes through them and spears through their heads. You see it, the gnashing of his teeth, the sweat curling down his cheeks. There’s something there. A chasm he’s hopeless to fill.

Before you know it, you’re going out of your way to catch him training alone. It’s creepy, you know, and awful, you know, but the more you watch him the more you see a sort of violence scabbed under his skin.

Whenever you see him now, the feeling you get is entirely foreign to you. It’s almost . . . longing.

Wherever she is, you’re pretty sure Aphrodite’s having a cosmic fucking laugh. And you’re sure she’s laughing double tonight.

The Aphrodite cabin is hosting some secret party for the older counsellors. You’re definitely of age to be a counsellor, but you’ve never been made one because that would probably make half the campers drop out. Chiron and Mr. D don’t know what to do with you. You’re sure you’ll be kicked out of camp soon for good.

But you’re here anyways, for a reason you don’t want to admit, and you stay tucked in a corner as the world around you mingles. Luke is on the other side of the room, lovely as always, laughing with a few other counsellors. He brings a drink up to his lips, and you have a startling thought of what it would be like to kiss him. And you’re fucked. You’re so fucked. Because for the first time in your life you want something tangible, something real. You want to hear him and feel him and pry him apart, and a part of you wants him to actually see you, see all the awful things that might make you the same. You feel like a teenage girl with a crush, and it is infuriating.

An Aphrodite girl comes up to you with a foolish smile. “Hey, sorry, you want a drink?”

“Fuck off, you idiot,” you snarl.

You wait for her to leave. She doesn’t. “You know, you don’t have to be so mean all the time,” she says evenly. “If you’re here, you might as well enjoy it. So yes, I want to give you a drink.”

“Have you ever thought that I’m not being mean? Maybe I just am.”

You glare at her. She looks you up and down. “Sure,” she shrugs, walking away. There’s a vivid picture in your mind of her falling through a hole in the cabin floor. It doesn’t soothe you, but at least the fantasy is there.

The night drones on. You’re sick of the smells and the laughs and the heat. And you’re sick of yourself. You can’t believe, underneath all your sourness, you came here to stare at a boy you barely know, and you don’t even know why. He’s fascinating, and you resent him, and he’s also beautiful. But he’s looked back at you all of three times tonight and you’re sick of the way your skin crawls when he does.

Leaving the cabin brings the relief of the cool night air, and the singularity of your body. You are the only one who feels this rage. You are the only one who hates.

To stave off your discomfort you walk around to the back of the cabin, to the crest of the hill facing the water. The stars above twinkle at you in spite. There’s a bitterness in your throat you want to wash down with something worse (maybe you should have taken that drink), but you know it won’t matter. Nothing matters. Those stars and whatever they hide are apparently the only important things in the universe, so why should anyone care about anything?

They stars only get brighter. It’s probably their goal to piss you off. You grunt, “Oh, fuck you,” to them. It’s not enough, never nearly enough to expel the rotten part of you. “Fuck you. Fuck off!” You groan at the sky. Nothing happens. Until:

“I’m guessing you’re not having a fun night.”

You whirl around. It’s hard to see in the dark, but whatever light is left catches a long scar on a cheek. Your stomach knots.

“Yeah, me neither,” Luke Castellan says, hands in his pockets as he meanders towards you.

Even when he’s close enough, you don’t say anything. If you do, you’re afraid it’ll be something ugly. Like I kind of want to make out with you. Are you awful too? I need a lobotomy.

The thoughts almost make you laugh. Been a long time since you’ve been funny.

He nods at the sky. “Those things don’t talk. You do know that, right?” He’s still so captivating, so self-assured, even when there’s no one around but you.

“Gods, you’re the worst,” you scoff. You really mean it, so you can’t look him in the eye.

“Then why have you been staring at me all night?”

It catches you so off-guard that you whip back to face him. He has an eyebrow raised and the itch of a smile that makes you burn with shame. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

He shrugs, leaning against the cabin wall. “I’m not stupid. You’ve been brooding in the corner watching me the second you came in.” He cocks his head to the side, adding, “Actually, you stare at me all the time. At meals and stuff. I really hope you don’t think you’re being subtle.”

You huff. “Okay, if we’re really being honest here, you started that! You do it too! All the time!”

His hands shot up like he was being arrested. “Hey, I never said I minded it. A guy’s . . . just gotta wonder. What’s up with you spying on me when I’m training alone, anyways?”

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

“You watch me when there’s nobody else around. I’m not blind. It’s weird. If you want tips you can just ask me. Or if you like what you’re looking at, at least be upfront about it.”

You speak before you can take in that last sentence, or the way his smile took pride in itself when he said it, or how embarrassed you should probably feel. “You didn’t answer my question about why you started staring at me first.”

The anger (shame) blinding you made you forget how close you are to him right now. Close enough to touch, but not enough to see. But almost there. Almost.

“People think you’re mean,” Luke says after a moment, his dark eyes probing you. The words curl out of his mouth slowly, like he’s choosing them all with care. “You’re rude. You never listen to anyone. You judge everything. They all think you’re awful.” Again, he looks you over. “I’m not so sure.”

“If I’m awful, then you’re awful,” you spit before he can say anything else.

He just shrugs. “Well, I guess that’s why I’m not sure.”

It’s irritating, his calmness. He has the same anger you do. How come he can just . . . shove it down? You try to unearth any fury in his eyes, but it’s too far back. Simmering. “Jesus,” you mutter, “You’re worse than me.”

He looks genuinely taken aback by this. His scar deepens when his brows wrinkle. “What?”

“You’re a pretender—that’s what you are.” It’s your turn now, to step closer, to make his skin crawl. “Look at you. Everyone loves you. You’re this perfect golden boy and you’re sweet and attentive and whatever the fuck but you know it’s one giant lie. At least I’m honest, but you just sit pretty and act like you don’t have that . . . thing that I have. Resentment. Insanity. Whatever you want to call it. We’re the same, but I’m the only one getting shit for it.”

Now, you are close enough to really see him. The patterns on the wood behind him frame the vision of his ever-shifting face. You realize that this, like most things are to Luke Castellan, is a challenge. You also can’t remember the last time you saw him lose one.

But when you play, you play to win.

“You don’t know that,” he dares.

“Oh, I do. You’re rotten, Castellan,” you sneer, index finger jabbed into his chest. You can feel his heartbeat if you concentrate. “And you’re not owning up to it, so you’re also a coward.”

However scathing you look, it isn’t enough. If anything it only makes Luke’s manner more playful. Nothing feels playful anymore. Everything, inside and outside of your mind, feels like constant, exhausting war. Maybe that’s why you don’t slap his hand off you when it wraps around your wrist, keeping it pressed to the middle of his chest. His heartbeat thrums through you.

He tilts his face towards you, grinning, “Then why do you want to kiss me?”

All right. What the fuck. It feels like you’ve been electrocuted.

“What the—what are you talking about?” You blunder, but he knows, of course he knows, because there’s something between the two of you that has been formed and understood by eye contact alone. He can probably read your mind. As much as you don’t want to admit it, you’d like to read his just as much.

He cocks his head. “I mean, you did call me pretty,” he teases, and it’s almost endearing. “You’re pretty like this too.” His other hand comes up to your face, and you’re surprised you don’t flinch when his thumb gently smooths the crease in your eyebrows. “Don’t call me a coward, heathen. Then we’ll both be embarrassed.”

The nickname makes you want to fight, but the touch makes you dizzy. “You don’t want to kiss me, Luke,” you say with all the control you have, which, right now, is increasingly sparse.

“You’ve gotta stop telling people what they want,” he muses. The hand on your wrist traces further down your forearm. The one on your face snakes around your hips. “One of your more disagreeable qualities.”

His words fan over you. That fire simmering in his eyes has finally come to the surface.

“One of?” You challenge.

“You let me make out with you and I’ll give you a whole list.”

You snort, hoping it hides the shortness in your breath. “What a charmer you are.”

His lips brush yours. “Well, that’s what makes me so rotten, isn’t it?”

There’s hardly time to unravel if that’s a question or a statement because you grab a fistful of his shirt and he kisses you. Your heart detonates. It is not rotten in the slightest.

His body is warm and firm. You smell the cabin wood and the drink on his breath. It all matters, and none of it does. You’re warm everywhere as he wraps both arms around your back, and the way he kisses is, unfortunately, exactly how you thought he would. Your hands are tentative in his hair. So is your mouth on his. But Luke is so deliberate in the way he kisses that you know he’s thought about this, too. It makes you all the warmer.

His hand takes your jaw and tilts it up. You know your neck is shaky with breath, and you’re pretty sure he’s admiring it. You don’t complain when he presses a kiss to your jaw, then another one, like he’s testing the waters. “You’re so nice like this,” he mutters almost to himself, thumb running across your neck. “If only people could see you.”

“Then they’d see how mean you are too, no?” You huff. “You don’t want that.”

Another kiss to your jaw. “Not yet, sweetheart.”

Whatever feeling is harbouring in your body right now, it’s so fulfilling it almost makes you uncomfortable. You want to reject it. You’re not supposed to want things. Worse, you’re not supposed to get things. Luke starts marking a path down your neck and you are so determined to enjoy this that you’d kiss a fucking baby if someone asked you to. You might as well be a saint.

He bites the pulse point on your neck, sure to leave a mark, and a shudder rips through you. You’re pretty sure the bastard starts laughing. You hit his shoulder in retaliation.

“Easy, heathen,” he reprimands in your ear, and you know he’s still smiling.

“Don’t—don’t call me that.” You hate that you start to smile, too, and that your stomach burgeons with butterflies when he pulls back to look at you.

He touches the corner of your upturned mouth, kiss-bitten and red. His expression is boyish. “Hard to when it makes your face do that,” he goads. “I thought it was impossible for you to smile.”

“Be quiet.” You thread a hand through his camp necklace and bring him closer. You can almost taste his mouth on yours, but he sweeps past you at the last minute.

He gently tugs your earlobe with his teeth and whispers, “Yes ma’am.”

Fuck him. Seriously. You might have to.

It’s a tangle of teeth and hands and smiles kept hidden, as you slip your fingertips beneath his shirt and he does the same, and you’re both angry and greedy and incredibly destructive, but it doesn’t matter yet. Now you’re just teenagers fooling around at the back of a party, and it’s the first good thing either of you have had in a long time. Luke leaves you gasping whenever his mouth hits certain places, maybe too many places, and he teases you accordingly. “So sensitive,” he taunts, pressing his knee between your legs so he can see you squirm. You rake your nails through his scalp and he tilts his head back to groan. It shuts him up for a while.

He bites your neck until you say his name. You trace lines on his stomach till he takes your hand in his own. You’ve been hungry for something your whole life, and you finally have something to sink your teeth into. For better or for worse.

After Hades knows how long, laughter floats out from the front of the cabin. Sounds of feet tripping over each other and muffled goodbyes. You pull away from Luke, chests heaving together. His hair is wild, his shirt crumpled, and he looks entirely satisfied with it. Smug little shit. “Party’s letting out,” you mutter.

“What a damn shame.” His hand rubs your jaw, and it’s too tender a gesture so you angle your head away to peek over the side of the cabin. You barely pay attention to the kids straggling back to their bunks.

“Is now the time you tell me all my horrible qualities?” You ask once you’re ready to look at him again.

He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Actually, I came up with more since I said that so I’m pretty sure it’ll take more than one night.” He fakes a wince, “Might have to spread it out for a few days.”

You roll your eyes, “Oh, you ass.”

“I’ll give you one for starters.” You feel like a tornado when he kisses the juncture between your jaw and your neck. “Your hands are too cold.” They’re tucked underneath his shirt right now, pressed against his back. You don’t move them. “And,” he adds, “you’re incredibly crass.”

“Thanks, dipshit.”

“Thank you for proving my point, heathen.”

The commotion at the front gets louder, and you know your time to go undiscovered runs short. “You meet me again tomorrow, and I start telling you the rest?” He raises his brows.

The prospect both repulses and excites you, although perhaps they’re hand-in-hand. You tentatively reach up to trace the scar on his face. A faint, jagged line that holds scripture within it. His eyes flutter shut for a moment. “Even though I’m rotten?” You ask, and there’s an echo of mischief in your voice, too.

He’s got a strange expression when he looks at you. “That’s not true.”

He leans down, angles his head to kiss you. It’s slow, but bitter, and he bites down on your lip until you’re pretty sure there’s blood. “Luke,” you murmur, and he kisses you softer. You lean into him like a hapless, lovesick fool.

After you part, he loosens his grip on you. The bumbling campers have gotten louder. He stares at you, and you see the chasm in his eyes again, brimming with fire. Same as yours. You know you’ll see him tomorrow.

He says, “You’re not rotten. You’re right.”

And damn it, you really do believe him.

#perrie’s fics #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo x reader #pjo series #pjo tv show #luke castellan smut #pjo #heroes of olympus #charlie bushnell #i like sexy evil people making out okay. #maybe will make a part 2 to this series because i’m just so fascinated by their weird little dynamic but we’ll see #i kind of hate this but WE MOVE ANYWAYS!!

[chifuyudck]

the brothers being caught jerking off content is sooo good, would you be down for writing a reverse where MC gets caught jerking off thinking of the brothers? (and the dateables!)

the brothers + dateables (minus luke) reaction to walking in on MC touching themself.

the brothers + dateables x gn!reader

summary: caption guys.

warnings: embarrassment, masturbating, stuttering, cocks, eating out, fingering.

a/n: guys school started so i didn't really write a lot and my laptop crashed a few mins ago while i was almost done with writing and it didn't autosave, i'm so thankful for all the love on my other posts. i tried to keep this as genderneutral as possible. requests are still open!! --------------------------------- LUCIFER

he knocks on your bedroom door but doesn't give you enough time to fix your pants.

you stare at each other for a bit until he clears his throat and looks away so you can fasten your pants again.

while waiting for you to fix yourself a tent is forming in his pants, thinking back on the way you laid splayed out, hair stuck on your forehead, cheeks rosy colored, making his clothed cock twitch.

might as well call you to his office later to talk about it, maybe add some physical touch too, since his cock won't stop bulging in his pants at just the thought of you.

MAMMON

knocking? what's that?

when he catches you in the act, hand still on your private part, he needs some time to realise what just happened.

shakes his head in disbelief, thought you were a saint who would never do this, will not stop thinking about it when he's alone in his room.

secretly hopes you're busy with yourself again, every time he enters your room, so he can ask if he can join you, since he regrets he didn't ask it the first time.

LEVIATHAN

doesn't knock either, and just storms into your room.

he doesn't even realize what you were doing until he sees how red your face is, the way your eyes are glossy from embarrassment, your pants still open, and your intimate part still visible.

literally just runs away and stays in his room the whole day, doesn't go to dinner either, just because he's embarrassed to see you.

all that time alone with his own thoughts about you has his dick going hard, he might as well be fisting his cock the whole day while thinking about you, alone in his room.

SATAN

normally does knock, but of course, the one time he doesn't, this happens.

''oh... how unfortunate.'' 🧍‍♂️, he says that while he knows he loves it, sees how embarrassed you are so he just leaves you alone.

when he tries to read his books, he catches himself re-reading the same sentence four times now. he just can't stop thinking about you.

will definitely make remarks, and tease you but more in an indirect way, so it stays between you two.

ASMODEUS

of course he won't knock, why would he? what do you have to hide from him anyways?

''you were doing this, without me?'' he pouts as he comes closer, closing the door behind him.

if you allow him, he'll show you how good he is with his hands, fingers softly stroking and teasing.

if you don't he'll just watch you masturbate, since you look so cute when you do so.

BEELZEBUB

ended up in your room after following the amazing scent he had been smelling.

is a bit shocked when he realizes where it's coming from.

''can i try it out?'' he asks you with puppy eyes, he was so excited to feel it in his mouth after he's been so eager to find this scent of your arousal.

is unsurprisingly good with his mouth, tongue lapping around, swirling, sucking and he won't stop. it's like endless plates of food for him, it isn't until you have to beg him to stop, that he stops.

BELPHEGOR

suddenly he's wide awake when he sees what's going on.

loves the view, stands with arms crossed in the doorstep as he licks his lips, tells you to keep going, no matter how embarrassed you are, and doesn't even understand what you're so embarrassed of since you look so damn good.

his pants start pressing up against his crotch, so he'll have to release his hard cock now.

whenever mammon brags about how he's your first man, he'll definitely ask him if he ever saw your private part too, now he has something to be first in with you too.

DIAVOLO

stands there for a bit, not sure of what he's supposed to do.

when he sees how embarrassed you are he leaves.

but comes back in your room fully naked, now you won't have to feel embarrassed anymore, right?

wrong. you feel even more embarrassed, this will now forever remain as a core memory.

BARBATOS

knocks, definitely knocks.

the way your appearance looks messier than usual doesn't go unnoticed by him, and he quickly connects the dots and realizes what you've been doing.

he smiles softly, happy that you're feeling comfortable enough to do so.

will add a light aphrodisiac in your tea, so you can continue where you started off when he leaves.

SIMEON

''oh, mc! i'm so sorry!'' he says as sweat buds appear on his forehead, he's in so much distress and embarrassed about what happened.

after you calmed him down and told him it's alright he still doesn't leave. ''you can continue, i don't want to be a burden.''

you awkwardly continue masturbating after he's been so eager for you to do so.

will chant your name and cheer you on when you climax.

SOLOMON

there's no way you didn't do this on purpose. that's what he thinks even though he is the one that walked in on you.

he tells you how cute you look when you masturbate, and doesn't even care that you're super embarrassed.

a bulge starts forming in his pants and he swiftly releases his cock with a soft groan.

''mc, wanna help each other out here?'' he asks with a big grin.

#obey me #obey me x mc #obey me smut #obey me dateables #lucifer #mammon #leviathan #satan #asmodeus #beelzebub #belphegor #diavolo #barbatos #simeon #solomon #om! #obey me x reader #smut

[mournus]

“Wait…..you haven’t even had your first kiss?” Damn. That kind of hit him. He may have been on the verge of death, but his transformation to a wolf had been that, a transformation. Luke was an angel. Meaning he’d had to actually die. Dying before even having a first kiss. That seemed like such an absurd unfairness. Monsters in this world got long lives. Meanwhile someone like Luke had been ripped out of it far too young.

The question helped push the thoughts away. “Oh they do. My alpha couldn’t even think of the female twin without crying until kind of recently. And I was obsessively jealous about the guy twin. Well I still am. But I’ve settled into a comfortable space of being curious of him and the twin dynamic. My fascination of the psychology helps stifle the rage and jealousy quite well. For the most part.” (Saint to Luke)

"Oh... well... no. I suppose I'm a little traditional when it comes to things like that. As in, I want my first kiss to be with someone special - someone I go on to have a long relationship with. A lot of my firsts... I don't want to do until I'm married, or going to be married. It's not that I haven't really had the chance - it just hasn't been right for me." He could tell just by the stories Saint has been telling that he wouldn't agree, would find it absurd, but this was just how Luke felt. He wasn't even remotely tempted to kiss or have sex with just anyone.

He laughed quietly. "For the most part. At least that's something, hm? I just don't understand it, though. Why do things that cause such... upset? Is it really worth it?"

#answered #meet luke #V: Light!Luke #luke x saint #sentimentalscientia

[mikkomacko]

Him and I

Y'all asked and I have done my best to deliver! This ended up being sooo long and I have so much more I want to write so pls pls pls send in requests for mob boss Nico! Enjoy x

Pairing: Nico Hischier x reader

Warnings: cussing, sexual language, mentions of weapons, blood, violence

~~~~

The room rings loud with the clattering of dishes, silverware scraping platters, drink glasses clinking together, but most of all laughter.

You watch the bubbles in your champagne glass fizzle up towards the rim, smiling softly at the way Nico’s chest shakes with laughter against your side. The arm around your waist tightens every time he chuckles, the fingers on your thigh digging into your bare skin.

You’re not listening to whatever Timo is saying that has him laughing like this, but it doesn’t matter to you. All that you care about is that he’s safe at home, happy and having fun with his family.

Looking up from your glass, you take in the room. The overly large dining table is filled with men and boys, everyone crowded over messy dinner plates and drinks. Holtz is feeding scraps to the towering Saint Bernard Nico gifted you when you moved in with him, laces of drooling pooling under the dog’s mouth.

You place your hand over Nico’s on your thigh, slipping your fingers between his calloused ones when he flips his palm over for you. Neither of you say a word, him caught up in conversation and you still admiring the boys in front of you.

Jack and Luke catch your eye, the two brothers bickering a few seats over from you. They’re smirking and poking at each other with their silverware, whatever teasing words falling from their lips lost to you. They’re so endearing, you think as they mock each other, a testament to true brotherhood. Before you can get too sappy over how much they love each other, you realize Luke has stupidly wrapped his hand around the blade of a steak knife Jack had pointed at him.

The warning words are on the tip of your tongue when Jack tugs the knife back and you roll your eyes as blood immediately seeps out from Luke’s clenched fist.

“Jack!” You scold, setting your champagne glass on the table and rising from Nico’s lap. It’s at that moment that the rest of the table realizes crimson red blood is pooling into Luke’s lap and Jack is holding the stained knife.

Rushing around the corner of the table, you tug a cloth napkin off of Daws lap as you rush to Luke. Almost helplessly he pushes his chair out, holding his hand out to you with wide eyes. The wound has begun making a mess on the white marble floors and you dog the splatters of red to get closer.

He opens his hand and you wrap the cloth around it tightly, holding his hand tightly and nudging him up from his seat with a hand on his back.

“Cleaned by the time I get back.” You tell Jack, who’s watching you with a guilty hunch to his shoulders.

“Come on Luke,” you murmur. Tugging the knife from Jack’s palm, you place it on the table and point to the floor. He simply nods, letting you lead Luke off to the bathroom to take care of his hand.

Nico finds you ten minutes later standing over Luke, first aid kit splayed out on the bathroom counter. The young boy sits on the closed toilet seat, his hand held out to you as you finish the last couple stitches.

“How’s he looking boss?” Nico greets, sliding up behind you and looking over your shoulder. Like always, the stitches are clean and neat.

“A little stupid,” you tease, tying off the thread. Nico steps back so you can place the needle and scissors down, swiping a wet rag over Luke’s palm before you wrap a bandage around it.

He tentatively flexes his hand, wincing slightly before looking up at you with a bright smile. That smile fades when he sees the way you’ve got your hands on your hips, one eyebrow cocked.

“What?” He asks, eyes looking between you and Nico. You jab a finger into his shoulder and he flinches, rubbing at the spot as if you could actually hurt him.

“If I ever see you grab the blade of a knife like that I’m kicking your ass and then calling your mother.”

Luke deflates at your words, sullenly nodding. You stare him down for a moment before motioning towards the door. “Go. Drink some water and make Jack get you a cookie.”

He scampers away like a kicked puppy, disappearing down the hallway. Before you can even move, Nico is sliding up behind you again and wrapping his arms around your middle.

His nose brushed the side of your neck, the messy strands of his hair tickled your ear. “That was sexy,” he mumbled lowly, his voice just a rumble. “I like see you get all stern with the boys.”

Butterflies warmed your belly, fluttering in circles beneath his large palms. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he agrees, kissing softly at your skin. “So hot seeing my baby boss everyone around…” he dots more kisses along your neck, his breath hot and sticky. Instinctively you melt into his hold, knees growing weak from his attention.

“and then go you’ll go upstairs tonight and bend over for me, won’t you?”

Heat rises to your face, and you’re unsure if it’s embarrassment at his words or because he’s right.

You stand up straight and shove his hold off in favor of cleaning up the bathroom. Nico snickers behind you and when you meet his gaze through the bathroom mirror, he’s smirking.

“Go make sure my house is cleaned up,” you demand through a pout, trying to shake off his teasing. “Or there will be no bending over from me.”

He looks you up and down, his gaze returning to yours and he drops his left eye in a wink. “Yes ma’am,” he complies, smirk still plastered on his face as he lovingly smacks at your ass before leaving.

Deciding to leave the night to Nico, you disappear upstairs to change and wash up for bed. By the time you tiptoe back to the dining room everything has been cleared away and all the boys sent home.

You find your boyfriend in the kitchen, standing over the sink with his back to you. He must not have heard you over the sound of the water running so you take a moment to just watch him.

He’s abandoned the button up he was wearing earlier and now just a skimpy, see through white tank top stretches over his back and shoulders. With each scrub of the wine glasses he’s washing, the ridges of his back dip and rise, pulling that thin fabric even tighter.

You don’t know how long you stand there watching him, but you don’t move until he’s setting the last glass out to dry. His wet fingers tuck his hair behind his ear before reaching for a dishcloth. It’s then that he catches sight of you over his shoulder and he turns, tangling his hands in the fabric and leaving back against the counter.

“Sneaky, aren’t ya?”

You bite back a smile, slinking towards him with a shy little shrug. “Mhmmm,” you draw out, letting your hands slide around his waist. He widens his stance, lets your feet step between his so you can press up close to him.

Nico tosses the rag onto the counter, his dry hands coming up to hold either side of your face. He tilts your chin up until you hold his gaze, the warmth of his dark eyes washing over you like sunshine. Despite his stature and his lifestyle, you’ve never thought of Nico as anything more than a sweetheart.

He’s the most gentle, loving, and kind person you’ve ever met. You take in his features, wonder how anyone can see anything more than his soft lips and scruffy beard that love tickle your face, the straight nose that tucks into the top of your head when he holds you, and the puppy dog eyes that admire your every move.

A gentle smile lifts his lips, dimples sinking into his cheeks and you bask in the light of it. Chuckling quietly, he dips down to kiss the tip of your nose.

“Come on baby,” he says, dropping his hands to your hips and walking you back towards the stairs. “Let me take you to bed.”

Reluctantly you turn around, reaching behind you for his hand to guide him through the house and up to the bedroom. On your way you spot the dog splayed out on his large bed in the living room, and you smile knowing Nico will happy about that.

Once in the bedroom, Nico drops your hand in favor of pawing at your ass and hips. You shake his hands off, turning to wrap your arms around his neck and press your lips to his. He pulls you into him, gripping the back of your thighs and hoisting you up onto the mattress.

Crowding over you, Nico lays between your parted thighs. You tangle your fingers in his hair and draw his mouth back down to yours. He presses the bulge of his jeans into you, groaning softly when you buck your hips up into him.

“Nico,” you breathe out when he trails his mouth across your jaw, dipping down to the column of your throat.

A mumble of approval rumbles in his chest, his teeth nipping at your skin and you know he’s gonna leave a mark.

“Say my name baby,” he mutters into your skin, snaking a hand between the two of you so he can rub at your clit through your pajama bottoms.

“Oh Nico-“

An all too familiar ringtone makes you both freeze, his phone vibrating in the pocket of his sweats. Laying your head back on the mattress, you try not to sigh in disappointment as he huffs and moves back to dig the stupid phone out.

“What?” He answers, still kneeling between your spread legs. His left hand still strokes up and down your thigh, his eyes following the movement like he’s trying not to look too closely at you.

“Timo man I can’t do this right now- no I-what do you mean?”

By now you know this a call Nico’s going to have take care of himself so you gently push yourself up, taking a hold of his hand and sitting criss cross in front of him.

Nico huffs, squeezing your fingers. “Yeah, come stay with her. I’ll be there in 20.”

Without so much as a goodbye he’s hanging up the phone, tucking it back into his pocket. Nico sighs, hanging his head and taking a few deep breaths. You’re unsure if he’s trying to prepare for whatever was on the other end of that call or if he’s trying to get rid of the hard-on you were previously grinding on so you just stroke through his hair, pushing the loose strands out of his face.

After a moment he rises from the bed, bringing your hand up to his lips for an apologetic kiss. “M’so sorry baby but I gotta go. Timo got word that the Rags are screwing around on this side of the river.”

You simply nod, knowing this was part of the deal when you decided to be with Nico. He leans down again, kissing your lips just once with gratitude. “I promise I’ll be back soon and we’ll finish this.”

Giggling, you shoo him away and lay back on the bed to watch him slip on his zip up and shove his feet into some shoes.

“Timo is coming to stay with you until I get back.” Nico says, his tone all business as he stuff his things into his pockets and slides his ring back onto his pinky finger.

“He didn’t have to,” you say, climbing up from the bed when Nico begins digging through the top dresser drawer. You reach into his nightstand, grabbing the pocket knife you know he was looking for.

“I would’ve been fine,” you approach him, holding the knife out. “But thank you.”

Nico smiles, taking the weapon from you with a chaste kiss. “S’just in case,” he explains, tucking his hand into his jacket pocket. You reach for his necklace, pull out the Devils horn charm and cross so that it gleams on the dark fabric of his track suit.

“Ok, I’ll be back soon baby girl.” Nico says in goodbye and you press a kiss to his cheek before walking him down to the garage. Just as he’s leaving, the familiar headlights of Timo’s BMW pull in the drive and you head to the living room, ready for a movie night with your best friend.

~

The sun hasn’t even begun to rise when you wake up, disturbed by the empty space on the bed next to you. On your nightstand, the alarm clock reads 3:47 and you frown when you realize it’s been hours since Nico left.

Pushing back the covers, you tiptoe away from the bed and towards the door. If Nico’s not home, you doubt Timo has actually gone to bed so you carefully pad down the stairs and to the living room.

Just as you suspected, Timo is pacing back and forth in front of the couch, the dog watching him with alert eyes. You enter the room, reaching down to pet your good boy when he slinks down from the couch to sit by your feet.

“Haven’t heard from him?” You ask when Timo looks up from his phone at you. He’s got dark circles under his eyes, hair mussed like he’s been tugging at it. “Like at all?”

Timo shakes his head, a guilty frown tugging his lips down. A surge of anger flushes through you and you almost throw something at him for it. He should’ve woken you up hours ago when I became clear that something was wrong.

“What phone does he have with him?” You ask, swallowing down your frustration and anxiety. Nico taught you what to do, how to act. You know how to be in charge.

“His red one but the signal went out at 12 and I haven’t been able to ping it.”

Scoffing, you cross your arms over your chest and push past him. Like a lost puppy he follows you, as does your actually puppy. Nico’s office is unlocked, the door cracked open and you push inside with the two stragglers right behind you.

“What are you doing?”

You sit at his desk, shaking the mouse to wake up his computer and the bright screen burns at your tired eyes. Clicking out of Nico’s account, you quickly pull up the one you’d made when you moved in.

Timo comes to stand behind you, watching you type in your childhood nickname as the user and NicosHotA$$$ for the password. He snickers behind you and in any other situation you’d probably giggle with him, but you’re still upset that he didn’t wake you earlier.

“Does he know you have this?” Timo asks, leaning in closer over your shoulder. You quickly pull up the software you were looking for, the login to the tracking app popping up. You enter the same credentials, only hesitating for a moment. You haven’t used this software since you set it up, not having a reason to. It was for emergencies and emergencies only.

“No he doesn’t,” you finally answer, logging in and letting the map load. After a brief second of buffering, the screen focuses in on a bright red dot sitting just off to the side of the Hudson River.

“You chipped him?!”

Scoffing, you snatch a piece of paper off the oak desk and a ball point pen, scribbling the address down.

“No I chipped his watch,” you respond “after he assigned you to follow me 24/7 I figured I deserved the same kind of security for him.”

You log out, making sure to put everything back how Nico had it before shutting the computer off. “Let’s go, you’re driving.” You instruct, “I just need to change real quick.”

Timo physically bawks, looking at you like you’re crazy. “Nico will kill me if I let you go anywhere.”

“If you don’t, I’ll kill you and then I’ll kill Nico.”

Your threat hangs in the air, Timo now silent as he just looks at you. He must be analyzing his next move, trying to figure out a way to stop you but he knows his place.

He may technically be Nico’s right hand man, but you’re the bosses girl. When Nico’s not in charge, you are. It’s unspoken, but he knows.

“Fine,” he agrees. “I’ll go start the car.”

~~~~

Nico has no idea how long he's been sitting in this stupid warehouse with this stupid cloth between his teeth and this stupid thick ass rope around his wrists and ankles. If it had been duct tape he'd been outta here hours ago, back home rolling around in the sheets with you where he belongs.

But this isn't his first rodeo with the Rags, and they've learned their lesson about tying any of his men up with duct tape. Nico's trained them well, taught them to take care of themselves. Especially since the Rags have a thing for holding the Devs hostage, though this is the first time they've managed to grab him.

It's because he was distracted, head still swirling with thoughts of his hands on your thighs, his finger touching and teasing you, winding you up until you were crying his name.

Next thing he knew, his little rumble in the bar alley with Trouba and Kreider was him being sucker punched unconscious and waking up in this stupid, bitter cold room.

And no one has come to talk to him, to threaten him, nothing. It's all feeling useless.

He's wiggling his wrists, the skin raw and no doubt bleeding now, when he hears stirring above his head. His head is a little too foggy to really put the sounds together, but he's certain he hears a body thud to the ground. There's some more grunting and thuds, and Nico relaxes a bit when he realizes Timo probably sent Siegs or Haula after him.

For the first time that night he hears the grinding of a door being yanked open, followed by heavy footsteps and he wishes his stupid chair was facing the other way so he could see who it is. He doesn't have to play the guessing game too long though before the large figure of Timo is stepping into view.

Nico almost yanks his way through the rope at the sight of him, thrashing against his restraints as he glares at his brother in disbelief. One job, Timo had one job, stay with you always. For all they now this could've been planned, Rags could be hounding on you right now because him and Timo left you vulnerable.

"Would you calm down she's fine." Timo grumbles in defense, tucking his handgun into the waist of his pants in favor of yanking the cloth out of Nico's mouth.

"I told you not to leave her alone, fucker! She's-"

He's cut-off by an all too familiar voice. "Sneaky, right?" You run your fingers through his sweaty hair at the nape of his neck, soothing him for just a moment before working at the knot in the cloth. It loosens, drops from his neck and into his lap.

Timo has retrieved his gun again, keeping a close eye on the door behind Nico. The click of a blade cuts through the room and the rope on his wrists goes taut.

“What are you doing here?” He grumbles, wincing at the pull on his wounds.

You finish cutting through the rope, his arms falling limply behind him. “Sorry my love,” you murmur, fingers gently taking in the torn skin. “I was just saving you.”

If he didn’t know any better, he’d think you sounded sweet, like you were coddling him as you realized he was hurt. But he does know better, and he can sense the impatience and annoyance bubbling under your words.

Oh he’s in for an ear full.

Still, he’s never been one to back down so he challenges you a bit. “I have men for that, ya know?”

You release his wrist and he slowly draws his hands around and into his lap, flexing his shoulders to try and get the blood back to his fingertips. He can already feel the ache in his chest and back and he wonders how the fuck you let him hold you like that on his more aggressive nights in bed.

“Men that couldn’t even find you.” You quip back, and he catches your hip as you go to step around him. His hold doesn’t stop you though, and he watches as you kneel down in front of him to cut through the rope at his ankles.

You’ve listened to him well it seems, or just really paid attention because any identifying marks of yours have been covered. Head to toe in black, thick sturdy boots that mimic the ones he wears on particularly dangerous deals, and all jewelry removed. Well everything except the thin gold chain on your neck, the charm tucked into your long sleeve shirt. And the tell-tell red bandana knotted around your face, hiding everything but your eyes.

Smart girl, he thinks, trying not to smile. He’ll praise you for it later, when you’re somewhere safe.

The rope snaps free, your eyes peering up at him through your dark lashes and the bits of your hair that hangs over your face. You don’t say anything, gaze dark and angry as you flick the knife away and sit back on your haunches. Nico immediately stretches his legs out around you, belly swirling when he takes in the sight of you kneeling between his thighs.

You raise an eyebrow, lifting your hand to hold the knife out to him and he realizes you’ve managed to get back his pocketknife. He melts a bit at that, grateful that you thought to look for it, that you always remember its ties to his family back in Switzerland.

He takes it from you, fingers still a bit numb as they wrap around the weapon. Now that your hand is free you lean in, holding onto his knee for balance while the other one reaches up for his face.

You gently stroke right under his eye, a sting of pain ripping through his cheek and he realizes that’s where he’d been hit. You frown, eyebrows pinching together. “Hopefully you haven’t ruined that pretty face with a scar, boss.”

Behind you, Timo snickers and Nico glares at him, catches the way he’s fighting to not look at the two of you and instead watch the door. Whatever he did up there must have been enough damage though because it’s dead silent.

“I know a good doc,” he replies casually, nodding for you to stand up. “She won’t let it scar.”

He rises with you, wobbly on his feet as the feeling rushes back to them and his head spins for a moment. You immediately press into his side, slipping under his arm like you belong there, and steady him.

“She might,” you say flatly, and he chuckles, pressing a kiss into the top of your head. He really is proud of you, can’t believe that you came to get him even if he’s gonna give you grief about it.

It’s his job to be tough on you, on everyone.

“Let’s get moving,” Timo cuts in, looking to Nico for his next move. He nods to the door, telling him to the lead way. You’re silent on your feet as you walk with Nico and he makes a mental note to ask you how you manage to do that.

Upstairs, he finds exactly what he expected. Bodies lay limp on the ground, chairs and table strewn about the large room. He can’t make out who is who but he immediately recognizes Trouba laying closest to the door, lip busted and bleeding and the whole side of his face already bruising in what looks like the shape of a boot.

He’ll have to ask Timo about that one too.

~~~~

The rising sun shines through the bedroom windows. Nico runs a towel through his wet hair, wincing at the stiffness in his shoulders and the way the light makes his eyes ache.

Before he can so much as grumble about it, you’re entering the bedroom and hitting the switch on the wall to lower the blackout curtains.

You changed while he was showering, back into the cute set of pink silk pajamas you had on earlier in the night and Nico wants to rub his hands all over you, let the soft fabric soothe his angry wrists.

But you haven’t said a word since leaving the warehouse, except to send Timo off to bed in a guest bedroom and instructing he take the dog with him so he doesn’t get lonely.

Tossing the towel into the hamper, Nico collapses onto the bottom of the bed, shoulders slumping forward as he watches you move around the room. You ignore his gaze, digging through the drawers and bathroom until you come up with a first aid kit.

Finally, you approach him, eyes avoiding his as you kneel in front of him again. Compliant, Nico parts his thighs further you, silently begging you to come closer.

You don’t though, instead gently taking ahold of his ankles and drawing his feet out to you. He lets you manhandle him, relaxes into the mattress as you softly massage numbing cream into the bruises on his skin.

And then you’re moving closer, taking a hold of his hands with your soft, warm fingers and he gives in, feels everything ache in his chest.

“Baby,” he mumbles pathetically, “talk to me? Please?”

You trace over the mark his watch left on his wrist, face still hiding from him. “I chipped your watch,” you admit quietly. “That’s how I found you.”

He can’t say he’s angry or upset with the news. He’s the one that taught you about surveillance, about protection. How in this life, you have to be used to someone always watching you. He just wasn’t used to anyone watching him.

He is surprised though, at how you managed that. The watch was from Switzerland, designed by his family and gifted to him. He doesn’t know how you got the chance to chip it.

“Ok,” he replies, making sure to keep his tone even. “You saved me, ya know?”

You reach into the kit for a roll of bandages. “Yeah,” you wrap the gauze around his right wrist, actions a bit rougher than before “and you gave your men orders to leave me at home like a dog.”

Nico frowns at your town, bitter and biting. You don’t talk to him like that, in all the time you’ve been together he’s never heard you like that. It makes his heart sink, makes him want to crumble to his knees in front of you right now.

You finish wrapping his other wrist, dropping his hands heavily into his own lap. Then you finally look up at him, eyes angry and disappointed. Nico can’t help himself, he takes a hold of your face and draws you up towards him.

“Don’t give me those stupid puppy eyes, Nico.” You mutter, voice rising as he pouts down at you. “I found you, I got Timo off his ass, I got your knife back, and I got you back.

“I did it all and you didn’t trust me to! For fucks sake I knocked out stupid Trouba and you still wanted to rip Timo’s head off for-“

“You knocked Trouba on his ass?” Nico cuts off, a smirk spreading across his face. The sight of him dimples must soften something in you because he manages to get you to your feet.

“That was your cute little boot print on his face?” He prods, coaxing you into sitting on his lap and wrapping his arms around your waist.

You reach for the chain around his neck, fingers taking a hold of the pendant and stroking over the devil horns. Bashful, a tiny smile plays at your face and Nico can’t stop himself for kissing at the tip of your nose.

“He messed with you,” you mumble, softer than you’ve spoken to him all night. “And I love you and being a Dev means protecting who you love.”

Nico’s breathless, swept off his feet by the earnest of your words and the memory of them. The same words he’d told you before giving you your own devil horn pendant. He’d said it soften up the conversation, because telling you everything about being a mob wife was rough, but at the end of the day he meant it.

The Devils are a family, a family built by love and he was so fucking smart and lucky to bring you into this. He’d never ever gotten close to even discussing a prinzessin with his family, until he met you.

Obviously that was the best decision he’s ever made.

“You made me proud,” he cups your jaw, urging you to look up at him. “You always do, but especially tonight.

“I was scared to let you get to this side of things because I’ve never done this. I’ve never ruled with someone but after tonight, I know I couldn’t have asked for a better prinzessin to have by side.”

Your teeth sink into your lip, a blush rising in your neck and ears but your eyes have gone all moony and lovesick. He loves that look on you.

“That’s a big word for you to use,” you mumble, a hopeful lilt in your tone. “I don’t even have a ring yet.”

Chuckling, he presses a kiss to your cheek and then your chin and finally on your smiling lips. “You will,” he confirms “and you’ll by my princess.”

You tangle your hands in his hair, giggling as you yank him into another kiss. Nico lets himself get lost in you, pulls you close and holds you tight in his large palms. His brain swirls, the pain of his injuries fading as he losses his breath and himself.

His hands are wondering towards your ass when you pull back from him, lips swollen and messy as you giggle.

“Enough of that boss, I gotta fix that pretty face of yours and you need rest.”

Yeah, the best fucking decision he’s ever made was letting you into his life.

#nico hischier #mob boss au #mob boss nico hischier #new jersey devils #nhl #nj devils #nico hischer x reader

[queerjesusthelord]

Codename Villanelle, Luke Jennings

#killing eve #villaneve #eve x villanelle #villanelle #eve x oksana #eve polastri #jodie comer #sandra oh #oksana astankova #Oksana vorontsova #killing eve art #killing eve book #Luke Jennings #killing eve canon #killing eve quotes #saint petersburg

[bimb0fy]

— 01; mender

pairings; luke castellan x hephaestus!reader

summary; you always were a mender, a creator. yet your knowledge of swords, not the best, so imagine to your surprise, the luke castellan asked you for a sword, not your brother alex who always exceeded in the task.

warnings; nothing!!

wordcount; 825 words

a/n; can u guys tell one of my hyperfixasions is watching documentaries about how blacksmiths do shit 🤩

ᵐᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡⁱˢᵗ!! | ⁿᵃᵛⁱᵍᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ!!

-> You were a creator, being blessed by your father, hephaestus, and gaining fire abilities, a once in a hundred year miracle, you were instantly crowned favorite.

Not that any of your siblings complained, you were a Saint in their eyes.

So imagine to your surprise, when the Luke Castellan specifically requested for you to make him a new sword.

Even though you were your father's favorite, you weren't the best sword mender, you exceeded in mending and blacksmithing obviously, but your brother Alex, he had the honor of best sword mender.

"So, can you make one for me?" Luke asked you as you held the bag of chips in your hand, a foot on the table as you sat comfortably on the chair, eyes widened.

"Uh, yeah. Sure." You stuttered as you stood up. "You sure you want me? I mean Alex prays for you to ask him to make you a sword, he'd probably drop Mr. D's orders for you."

"Yeah, I want you." Luke smirked as you smiled. You tied your hair into a ponytail, taking your goggles as you raised your sleeves. "So, I always wanted to know how you make swords."

"Cmon I'll show you." You smiled, throwing an apron towards him with a matching pair of goggles.

"Twins." He joked as he put them on, you laughed as he stood by the station. You walked towards the cabinets, taking out the steel as you plopped it down to your station.

You had your own station in its own room, with huge windows and a rather delicate decoration, nothing you'd expect for a child of Hephaestus.

You went ahead to heat up the steal, Lule stared at awe as you held the metal, pressing on it as you heated it up, grabbing the hammer to shape the dagger once it was done.

The clacking louder then usual as you knew Luke held many swords, he'd instantly know a faulty one against a perfect weapon. Watching it men, you repeated until you deemed it presentable.

You dipped it into the oil, waiting for a few minutes before you took it out, the steam escaping as you placed it onto the desk.

Luke stared at the sword, bending down to look at it at eye level. "Isn't it supposed to be sharper?" Luke whispered as you looked at him, you couldn't hear him as you already began mending the handle.

"What?" You asked him as he smiled at you.

"No I just said its perfect." Luke smiled as you nodded, a smile shifting to your lips but you knew he wanted to say something else, you took off your goggles, grabbing the dagger as you looked at it.

"It isn't sharp enough, huh that's weird." You mumbled as you heated the blade once more, taking the hammer to fix your error as Luke sighed in relief. "You knew. Why didn't you say anything?"

"I mean, it's your territory, not mine." Luke shrugged. A lie. An obvious lie.

"Whatever you say Castellan." You smiled, as soon as you fixed your error and finished the handle, you stuck the two together, double checking as Luke leaned in beside you, looking at the sword.

"It's bigger then usual." Luke mentioned as you hummed in agreement.

"Thought you might need an upgrade. Go ahead, try it." You smiled at him as he nodded, he took the sword, holding it into his hand as he threw it to the other repeatedly.

"It's lighter, how did you do that?" Luke asked you, you winked in reply.

"It's my little secret." You smirked as he smiled. He spun it in his hands, looking between the blade and the handle, noting something carved on the handle. "It's your initials, and a little design I thought suited you."

He stared at the hoop, smiling as he took out his pendant from his shirt, it was tbe same design. "Thank you, really." He smiled at you as you shrugged it off with a smile.

"It's no thing." You smiled. You packed cleaned the area, Luke assisting you before taking off the apron and goggles. He took the sword, smiling as he held it before bidding you goodbye.

You went along to your cabin, taking a shower before going to lunch.

You sat down next to Alex, he was probably your best friend, he, no matter what, was always there for you. "A little birdie told me you mended a sword for the Luke Castellan. My my what luck you have." Alex joked as you rolled your eyes, smiling as you ate your mac and cheese.

"Hey mender. Thanks for the sword, it works like a charm." Luke winked at the last part, you smiled before tucking the hair behind your ear.

"It's no big deal. I'm glad you like it." You smiled at him as he raised his leg onto the place beside you, leaning in.

"I'll see you at the bonfire mender."

#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan #luke castellan x you #hephaestus #cabin 9 #percy jackson and the olympians #fanfic #x reader

[anxiouspotatorants]

Actually you know what I need to rant about this: while literati is technically a good girl x bad boy dynamic it is written so incredibly well and avoids so many pitfalls and stereotypes that it makes a good girl x bad boy hater like myself (I’m only half joking — I don’t think any trope is inherently good or bad but I tend to dislike most pairings with this dynamic) fall head over heels for their story and relationship.

So much of what makes the two of them work is the contrast between how others perceive them and how they truly are. Don't get me wrong, there are plenty of people who understand who Rory is as a person (Lorelai, Lane, Paris, Richard and Emily to a certain degree for starters), but she's constantly met with the expectation that she just does good and is supposed to make everyone proud 24/7. Stars Hollow as a group especially are big on this, as seen f. ex. through how Taylor takes Rory's one comment about an inappropriate DVD and twists the whole thing into a censorship crusade and makes Rory its poster-child even though she wants nothing to do with it and tells him so repeatedly. But instead of hearing Rory disagree with him (like he would Lorelai and Luke) he assumes that she actually agrees with him - and why shouldn't she when she's the perfect sunshine paragon of good who would never disagree with her elders? Also her grandparents treat her as incredibly fragile and childlike, like she must be too innocent to ever do anything wrong and so whenever she does something it has to be somebody else's fault (usually Lorelai, but occasionally Jess or whoever else was present). Time and time again Rory is treated like something innocent and naive and weak — but not by Jess. He sees her as a person.

And it obviously goes the other way too. Jess is treated like shit by pretty much everyone else. Either people hate him unprovoked or very much provoked (he did do a lot of pranks in his first few weeks and while I'm a Dean-hater I'm not blind to how much Jess picked fights with him), or they’ve simply given up on him. He tells Rory himself that every authority figure he had back in New York gave up on him too, from teachers to principals to his very own mother. But Rory doesn’t treat him like a lost cause, she treats him like the smart, brilliant and asshole-ish teen that he is. By having faith in him she also often holds him more accountable than others. Where f. ex. Lorelai or the other adults just roll their eyes, Rory physically drags Jess into doing his shifts at the diner. While others write him off, Rory chews Jess’ ear out for not helping Luke more and for willfully making enemies out of the Stars Hollow adults.

They don't put each other on pedestals or below each other. Jess doesn’t try to make a sinner out of Rory and she doesn’t try to make a saint out of him. There’s genuine respect between them. They expect each other to have integrity and treat others with kindness and honesty, and the rest is good old chemistry and common interests.

I particularly love how in so many of their scenes (especially pre-relationship) when they spend time alone they just get to be these goofy nerdy kids. They argue about controversial authors and dig through records shops and eat hot dogs and make fun of each other and try to make each other laugh. It’s not just sexual chemistry as it too often is in a dynamic like this (and often uncomfortably sexual when writing teenagers - looking at you Gossip Girl), and not just well written intellectual chemistry — they have platonic chemistry too. A hell of a lot of it actually.

While I don’t think ASP wrote them through a purely deconstructionist lens on the good girl x bad boy dynamic (if she did plan on writing the dynamic at all), there is something to be said about how where many around them treat them like stereotypes they treat each other like people. To so many people, Rory is a perfect small town princess, a little miss sunshine with booksmarts for days but too delicate and sweet for anything with grit and weight. To a lot of the same people and many more Jess is a pathetic brutish and maniacal lost cause, hell personified in a chainsmoking leather-wearing teenager. But to each other they are actual human beings. Kind and mean and flirtatious and scared and reckless and smart. Rory really thinks that with the right motivation and mindset Jess can be the kind who does (and at the end wrote) incredible things. Jess really believes that with a little more practice and support to step out of her comfort zone she can be the amazing journalist she wishes to be.

They don’t have this stupid «we’re so bad for each other but we can’t stay away» thing that too many trope users rely on and don’t even justify in the plot. Everyone else might think they’re not fit for each other, but they knew they were each other’s person from the very first day.

#where a lot of good girl x bad boy dynamics are about opposites attracting #what draws Rory and Jess towards each other is how much they resonate with each other #the books the weight of expectations and assumptions the passion for more in life #they don't look at each other and see a sexy alien world they look at each other and see themselves #me rant because me unnecessarily passionate about this #again I don't inherently hate the good girl x bad boy dynamic #there's just so many examples of doing it badly out there #like I don't even need the dynamic to be morally good I just need it to be justified in the narrative #and to not just rely on the same old “it's so bad but it feels so good” and relying on stereotypes over actual character writing #Rory and Jess is one of the ways this dynamic is actually done right and it's because ASP doesn't dumb them down #or take the dynamic for granted just because it's popular and bound to have an audience #literati #gilmore girls #rory gilmore #jess mariano #rory x jess #gilmore girls meta #my meta #also extra because I can't contain myself