#[the ooc is powerful here BUT HEY]

[mino-diabolik]

Hellfire

[Admin!Danny: So… @ruki--mukami ‘s post just awoke something about Priest!Ruki—]

『 It’s not my fault / If in God’s plan / He made the Devil so much stronger than a man 』

[Rustic addition below the cut 🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️]

『 Then tell me, Maria

Why I see him dancing there

Why his smoldering eyes just scorch my soul

I feel him, I see him

The Sun caught in his raven hair

Is blazing in me out of all control 』

『 Destroy the Saint

And let him taste the fires of Hell

Or else let him be mine and mine alone 』

[tariah23]

Finished Supacell!!!

[atanx]

i just had a silly little scenario in my head but like imagine instead of nishiki having his little villain arc due to literally no one giving a shit about him and always comparing him to kiryu, nishiki quits being a yakuza (though he prolly wouldnt canonically lol), gets a new stable job and life, and then when kiryu gets outta jail nishiki immediately comes to see him just to give him the biggest, well-needed hug 😔 i may or may not sound delusional but this is the ending i need, i just want a happy ending PLEAAAAAASE

i feel u so hard we need a good ending for our koi boi </3

honestly i feel this could happen in a nishiki gets very horribly drunk, has a mental breakdown at a bar, gets therapy-talked / pep-talked by an equally drunk stranger and wakes up the next morning having resigned by the yakuza by insulting kazama's drip until kazama was too tired to deal with his shit XD

this is a very crack-y promise, but angst can ensue! :D nishiki being confronted with the fact that he has neither money nor qualifications for acquiring a job! maybe working as a host until he's saved up enough to be able to do other shit.

since this would have to be inbetween yuko dying so that he can still lose it and attempting suicide / murdering matsushige, he hasn't gotten revenge on the doctor yet, so that could be a motivating factor in what field he wants to work in.

he'd probably do well at working in the nightlife industry, as a host or manager of a cabaret / host club. keep some underground ties, maybe contribute to this whole honest living thing by helping yakuza get a proper job (i think i read that he did stuff like that at some point on his wiki article but im no longer sure)

oor the popular idea of nishiki going into fashion. which i don't know nearly enough about fashion to comment on any of that but nishiki does have drip (potential) especially if he's not at 2005-box-suit level yet.

ooooor the idea of nishiki working as an independant investigative journalist with the primary goal of making the doctor's life a living hell. somehow he ends up involved in scandal after scandal and people soon fear him for how thoroughly he exposes corrupt businesses / politicians / whatever. his reporting has steadily been getting very good and he delights in the political power his articles and the populace's favour have gotten him. he is also very hard to get rid of because HE WAS IN THE YAKUZA AND HE CAN FIGHT.

i'd also honestly live for nishiki just not knowing what to do and attending university and finding a good friend group and getting the love he fucking deserves.

i'm actually now really into the investigative journalist idea asdfghjkmjnbvcfgt i blame the judge eyes series because this idea of investigative journalism i have has an overlap with detective work and DAMN JUDGEMENT IS SO GOOD.

anyway so because in this world, nishiki isn't plotting to murder kazama, he has a clear conscience and goes to pick up kiryu when he's released and reacclimate him into society. (also nishiki totally knows everything about what's going with yumi and jingu etc and can relay that to kiryu)

yo sorry for rambling so much the plot bunny population in my brain just starts increasing exponentially whenever i get to ramble about stuff <3

[fatedefyd]

if past chang'e was allowed to leave the heavens as she pleased the first thing she would do is invent surfing but without the board

[meetmypointlessaddiction]

we don't have to take our clothes off | l.howlett

Summary: everyone warns you about Logan but they don't see the side of him that you get to see

Tags: fluff, probably ooc Logan but who cares he's adorable, slight mention of being fuck buddies (don't know if that's tag worthy but oh well)

title is a song by Ella Eyre, came on my playlist and the inspiration hit, hope you enjoy

When the x-men found out about your relationship with Logan, many of them were apprehensive, warning you about Logan’s closed off emotions and how it was more than likely that he only wanted a fuck buddy and nothing more. You were, of course, very quick to defend him but the team were hesitant to believe you, worried that you were only going to get your heart broken. 

In public, Logan was very touchy, a hand on your ass, a kiss here or a hickey on your neck to claim his woman but what the rest of the team didn’t see was the Logan that you fell in love with. The Logan that didn’t need sex to feel loved, the Logan that would simply lay and watch a movie on the couch with you. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Night time was when Logan really came out of his shell. The rest of the mansion was asleep, children in their rooms, asleep or not, and adults deciding to either grade papers in their offices or get an early night. You and Logan did neither.

“Logan! Shhh gonna wake everyone up!” Hissing at him through laughter as he curses out the baking tray he just burnt his fingers on. “Stupid man. You’re 200 years old and you still haven’t learned to let the tray cool down before you pick it up?” Logan shoots you a dirty look, you holding his hand under the cold water, gasping as he flicked some at me. “Dick.” 

He smiled, moving his hand from under the tap and pressing a kiss to your temple. “Healing powers, bub. Don’t need to hold my hand under the tap.” He teased and you just rolled your eyes, flicking some water back at him before turning the water off. He just shook his head, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his head on your shoulder, an action reserved for when you were alone. “Anyone else tried to warn you about me today?” He mumbled in your ear and you shook your head. 

“I don’t give them chance anymore, babe. This is the side of you that they don’t get to see.” He grinned against your neck before pulling away abruptly, spinning you around in his arms. 

“Dance with me.” 

“What? There’s no musi- hey!” You laughs as he pulls you against him again, spinning you slowly and swaying with you head held against his chest. 

“Don’t need music baby, just need you.”

Hope you enjoyed, please like and reblog if you did 💛

Dividers: @coolcatsgraphics

[jazjelspen]

scarlet and silver lining

(alastor w/ daughter reader)

(fem reader/notproofread!/apologies for anything ooc still trying to get used to writing fics again lol/possible part 1 after the epilogue)

[Prologue]

You never truly got along with your 'father', not even in life until the passing of his mother.. your grandmother.

Technically she wasn't exactly your grandmother, and Alastor wasn't your father.. at least not by blood but by adoption papers. Poor Nana, she just wanted a little grandbaby running around the house before her days started getting counted down.

Alastor knowing that he didn't want to go through the trouble of finding a wife nor did he want to deal with the issues that came with that let alone the process to conceive a kid, with a heart full yet a hesitant hand he then signed your papers.. adopted you for the kind old woman at the age of six.

Orphaned by your parents sudden passing, you never truly found out why or how they died. Only thing you knew was that it was sudden, unprovoked, unasked for. They were healthy yet from what you could hear from the cops that took you from your empty home was that there was blood, lots of it.

With no family to take care of poor little you, you got thrown in an orphanage and stayed there hoping to be rescued and loved someday.

Till one day a man with a large smile and clean-cut clothes walked in with a gentle old lady, both talking to one of the adults in charge of the place. Eventually while touring the building they managed to find you hidden in a corner reading a picture book, reading about a baby deer finding his way in the world without his mother, this intrigued the lady and she started to speak to you.

No matter how much the man tried to get the lady to start moving to look at more options she was so stuck to you, your innocent and your little voice attempting to use big words entranced her poor heart and in that moment she just knew you had to be her granddaughter. After she said the word, the adult responsible led them to talk more and sign papers and the rest is history.

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

That was all you were willing to think far into when it came to your past, not wanting to remember what once was before falling into Hell.

You died around the 1940s, you followed in your fathers footsteps and created your own radio show before you died and being the daughter of Alastor in life had it's perks when he was famous in your home of New Orleans.

Although, you kept your secret deep in the ground when it came to your connection to Alastor. No way in hell would anyone know he was your adoptive father, you knew it'd only make you an even bigger target.

Especially to Vox, your boss and the demon that owned your soul.

Also the man that hated your father with his guts, but of course he didn't need to know any of that.

Your contract with him allowed you to be on his show, have a segment of it, get the royalties from it and be under his protection and his roof, in exchange you do any job he asks you to do no matter how hard or long it gets.

God did you hate transitioning from radio to TV, you were never fond of those color video boxes.. they lacked personality and were shallow in the content they produced. but hey, you needed to survive in hell somehow so why not just throw your soul to this TV guy to stay safe from the exterminations and other ruthless sinners.

You died around the time when the Radio Demon was barley getting the word out and showing his true power, the day you recognized his voice and heard his name blasted everywhere was when you knew he was worser than you thought, you didn't think he was this much of a sadist in life.. he must've hid it incredibly well from you then.

And you hated him for that.

Hated him for killing innocents, his sadistic tendencies, his power, his smile, his singing and his lies. His lies that he was your kind ol' dad that would do nothing wrong.

God.

But here you were now in present time being forced to be at the Hazbin Hotel by Vox.

Your hand currently leaning over to knock on the door ready to knock. You'd be warned that Alastor was here, and were warn to be more careful with your words and actions considering how badly Sir Pencious messed up before. This time bringing no technology with you but your head, memory, and a few things to sleep a few nights at this establishment. You were told that you would get more royalties and more perks like even getting your own show to rule over completely if you succeeded in this mission.. and god did you need your own place and studio so that Valentino didn't bother you any longer.

Your lips parted to let out a shaky sigh, a sweat bead running down your forehead down to the side of your face.

'c'mon ____, keep it together will ya?..' your thoughts scolded at you,

Your free hand wiped it away before finally knocking on the door of the hotel, hands shaky and your practiced smile of years

The door opening and being met with the princess of hell, Charlie Morningstar.

You could've sworn you felt the red eyes of a certain radio demon stare at you full force behind the princess's back.

Charlie gasped, seemingly more than ever excited to see someone new.

Your lips parted and started to move, you thoughts racing as you could feel more people stare from behind the royal.

You knew you'd regret doing this mission, Alastor being involved in it should've kept you away..

but if there was a chance to either get a solution to fully get away from the V's or to benefit from them if you did all this right, then so be it.

"Hello.. you must be Charlie right.. My name is ______ and I heard you are redeeming sinners? Your highness, I believe in your cause.. please help me relieve myself of my sins."

Your hands went from holding your luggage to clasping together with a face full of worry and a need to get better. Even you were unsure if you meant what you said, but you just knew that you knew what you had to do no matter what.. you would benefit from this somehow.

"Please, let me redeem yourself in your Hazbin Hotel, Princess Morningstar."

(hello readers!! thank you so much for taking a look at this epilogue of a possible new pic series! I actually made this fanfic almost three years ago on quotev but I want to bring it to life in a different fashion and new writing, so I hope you can stick around till the end of this series!!)

[sfznyxio]

-ˋˏ WILDEST FANTASIES ˎˊ

SYNOPSIS. you are irresistible and a source of temptation, especially in his imagination.

CHARACTERS. oikawa tooru, hanamaki takahiro, matsukawa issei, iwaizumi hajime

CONTENT. f!reader. canon-compliant, post-timeskip (2021). smut. 1.8k wc. rewrite of wildest fantasies at my old nsfw blue lock group blog @/bllk-after-dark, moved to haikyuu for an age-appropriate cast. reader is in a relationship with all except makki. seijoh 4 imagine how they would fuck reader. other warnings vary for each section and will be listed there instead because uh, it’s a lot.

VERA. sorry, the power of horny took over. i never read the manga, so i went with the seijoh 4 as the scenarios suit them the most. i struggled with makki and mattsun, so they may seem ooc. i guess I'm celebrating kinktober with this fic lol.

𝄞༉‧₊˚. OIKAWA TOORU

breeding kink, creampie, edging, fingering, jealousy (toward a teammate and kageyama), marking

mine is written on your skin with invisible ink. oikawa fumes at a player from his team talking to you, seemingly enjoying his company when he sees you laughing. he doesn’t experience rage often, but it can get worse when the infamous “king of the court” from the opponent team strikes up a conversation with you.

“what’s with the silent treatment, tooru?” the drive to the hotel is tense, and he treats you like a ghost. he also feels similar, for different reasons. when the two of you arrive at your room, he pins you down on the door with arms above your head and cunt on his knee. lust clouds his eyes as his tongue battles against yours and teeth nips at your throat, leaving a trail of bruises in its wake. 

“craving attention from him, out of all people when i’m here? i’m hurt.” you gasp at the friction of his knee on your cunt. his fingers slip inside, pumping them agonizingly slow as punishment. “think he can fuck you like this? hah, want everyone and that brat to know you’re mine.”

to prolong this type of behavior, you decide to instill delicious images in his head. “oh, how are you gonna show me off then? you’ve already done the hickeys. but what about a ring on my finger? or your cum out of me? or perhaps, a baby in me?”

oikawa pulls his fingers out when you’re nearing an orgasm. the impulse to buy a ring with his salary and propose you live, fuck you in the locker rooms to mark you with his cum, and knock you up so that guy can mind his damn business. he spends the entire night ramming his cock in you to make sure it takes.

“there you are! i had to ask one of your teammates where you were, but he’s so nice that i lost track.” oikawa is back at the court, dazed from his daydreaming. you didn’t notice him blanking out as you’re busy geeking out about his plays. “watching a match live was so exciting! i finally got to see your sets up close. one of the guys from the other team was your underclassman, right? i think he’s good too!”

he shuts you up with a kiss, and the audience reacts in a domino effect. the cameras pan to the two of you; his fans freak out that he is actually taken, and his teammates — as well as him — are in pure disbelief. you wonder why he did that. he looks proud of himself so you say nothing. “there. now the whole world knows.”

𝄞༉‧₊˚. HANAMAKI TAKAHIRO

begging, mutual masturbation, nipple play, phone sex, thoughts of oral sex (f!receiving), toxic relationships (with reader’s ex)

relief washes over him hearing that you broke up with ex over the phone. hanamaki never liked them to begin with, nor does he understand what you see in them. being the good friend he is, he remains civil, painfully. though it’s not as painful as suppressing his sinful thoughts about you squirming under touch, however.

“hey, makki. can you do me a favor?” he loves your voice. you saying his name is his greatest weakness. though it’ll be better to have you moan it in his ears when he rails you into a begging mess. now he feels guilty for harboring these feelings as he promised to only play as the ‘good friend’. but promises break eventually. “can you make me forget about them?”

the lines of friendship blur into indescribable tension. you express your frustration over lack of spice in your sex life, rambling about how badly you want to be fucked on someone’s mouth. the cries of your breasts and clit aching to be touched makes his cock to strain in his pants. sex isn’t a topic you confide in with your friends, but it does not matter now. you called him to forget after all.

“to tell you the truth, you’re driving me crazy,” he sighs with his head on the board while he pumps his length. labored breaths and whimpers are heard on your end. “what if i tell you i’m jerking off to you now, wishing i was inside that pretty pussy of yours? and what about you, wishing my mouth is there too and on your pretty tits to claim what has been mine in the first place?”

“i’m yours, always yours!” your whines turn into squeals, which has him cum on his hand. his body slumps over the edge of his bed, catching his breath alongside you. if you’re here, he would leave more proof that you are forever his with your ex nonexistent in your world. yet it’s all white noise. the entire time he has been spacing out, so you were waiting for an eternity for him to say something.

“hello? earth to makki?” hanamaki realizes the dried stickiness on his hand from his cum. he has been mindlessly jacking off to your voice. “i asked if you could do me a favor but i’d rather stop by your place to cool off. is it okay if i come over?”

“yeah. see you.” you thank him before hanging up. hanamaki tosses his phone away, contemplating what he has done. never, ever will he do this again and vows to not speak on it. all he can do is to maintain his role to comfort you through your breakup. he will do whatever it takes to prove he is indeed the better choice. there will be the day where you’re his for the taking.

𝄞༉‧₊˚. MATSUKAWA ISSEI

body worship, lap dance, lingerie, riding, sex toys (vibrator), strip tease, voyeurism

speechless is his reaction to you clad in lace lingerie. matsukawa develops a strong urge to impale you on his cock that is strained in his pants, just like how his arms are at the sides of his seat. for now he can only ogle at your body, a temptation for him to give into his desires, along with your alluring expressions.

the lingerie surprise tips him over the edge. he follows your fingers trail from your breasts to your clit, agonized by the drag of one of them along the lips back and forth. he grips his seat so hard he could feel the bones of his hands break. oh how he wants you so badly, but being the menace you are, you insist to stay patient until the end of your performance.

“not yet. keep your eyes on me.” you lift his chain to face you, with your mouth ghosting over his. how can he also enjoy the sight when you are torturing him with the sway of your hips, the flex of your thighs, and the bra straps hanging off your shoulders? and when you grind on his bulge with a vibrator in you which is your source of pleasure instead?

he finds himself matching your rhythm with an arm around your waist and the other cradling your head, kissing you as if his life depends on it. as clothes fly left and right, he yanks out your vibrator coated with your slick and finally plunges you onto him, having you seated for his show. how the tables have turned. now you’re the one being tortured, pounded with quick upward thrusts from him.

“now for the grand finale.” despite your protests to slow down, he wants to relish your body which is contorting in pleasure through the mirrors. a multitude of thrusts later, he reaches his climax and feels you clench, making sure you didn’t miss a single drop. it’s a shame that time goes by fast, because he sure wants to see your body arch for him over and over again.

“you know, it’s rude to stare without saying anything.” loud noises flood his ears. matsukawa is at the mall with you to help you buy new clothes to spice up your wardrobe. though when you mean by ‘spice up’, he does not expect to see you in lace lingerie at the fitting rooms. “so, uh… what do you think?”

matsukawa thinks that you may have a hidden agenda to seduce him, or just trying out the lingerie for fun. he marvels at how it suits your body, making you nervous. an idea pops into his head and whispers into the shell of your ear. “hm, not sure. why don’t you buy and put it on tonight for me so i can see it better?”

𝄞༉‧₊˚. IWAIZUMI HAJIME

aftercare, consent, insecurities, loss of virginity, missionary, petnames (baby), praise

sorry is your automatic reply when iwaizumi hints at wanting sex. you’re a virgin, so thoughts of being unable to satisfy someone experienced are rooted into your head. on the contrary, it’s a massive turn on. since it is your first time, he wants to make it extra special. he’s more excited than he should be so he tries to tone it down to not scare you.

you stare at him like a lost puppy as your partner reaches for your face. he smirks at how entranced you are when his fingers glide to your chin and then over your lips. he kisses you hard that you’re out of breath and pushes you to the bed. you begin to breathe normally again as he takes off his shirt, making his heart flutter, knowing that his body is for your eyes only.

“you can keep going,” you tell him when he checks up on you. with the slight encouragement of his hand drawing circles on your skin, you take off your shirt as well so he can explore more of your body. the two of you eventually strip yourselves bare while devouring each other with tongue and spit.

“squeeze if you want to stop.” your hand is intertwined with his, getting ready to signal for the sake of your safety. he penetrates you slowly, cock buried to the hilt inside, blabbering about how you’re taking him so well and swearing he’ll cum sooner than expected. the pitch of your moans is rising higher and higher. you hate how your sounds it seems by crashing your lips on his, but it tells him that he has done his job right.

“shit, baby. you’re absolutely perfect for me. how is this possible— agh,” iwaizumi hisses as he spills inside you. you’re now exhausted, sensitive from the caresses on your curves and kisses on your hands. this is what he would like to happen, however the next time he blinks, you’re lying beside him fully clothed.

“haji? you’re not saying anything.” you avert your gaze from his. you’re ashamed of literally pushing him away, believing that he’ll take offense judging from his silence. “i didn’t mean to do that. it happened so fast that i freaked out. can we start over and… start a little bit slower?”

“sure. let’s take things a little bit slower.” iwaizumi kisses your forehead to reassure you that you haven’t done anything wrong. somehow you’ve become bold, initiating the kiss and sneaking your hands under his shirt unconsciously. you retract from the sudden move, but he gestures to you to keep going. he’s so weak for you; he’ll do anything to make you happy.

[baldval]

heyy! You dont have to do this if it makes you uncomfortable it is a little darker…

can i request overlords finding out that reader selfharms? Like they knew she was unstable but they didnt think that much

thank you!!!

BEING COMFORTED BY HAZBIN!₊˚⊹♡

characters: alastor, vox, velvette, valentino, lucifer, adam

warnings: sad reader, slightly ooc adam (that man is so hard to write omg)

a/n: ik i said i'm comfortable w darker asks, i just don't really feel ok w writing about such heavy/negative topics (especially sh), but don't worry anon, should've added that mb. anyways, i give you hazbin characters comforting reader in return 🫶🫶

ALASTOR:

ᯓ he’s not exactly a ‘sit down and talk about feelings’ type of person

ᯓ but he can tell when something’s wrong

ᯓ and he wants nothing more but to make you feel like you’re on top of the world

ᯓ he sees your pouty face when you get home

ᯓ “hey, darling, come look,” he says

ᯓ he’d been at work when you’d left

ᯓ so he’s had some time to figure out what to do for you without making it seem like he’s prying

ᯓ he’ll ask you about what’s bothering you once you’ve relaxed

ᯓ he plops down on the couch, dragging you with him

ᯓ your favorite movie is paused on the tv, waiting to be played

ᯓ “i found an extended version. with bloopers and deleted scenes and everything,” he murmurs

ᯓ the entire movie, his hand is rubbing up and down your back

ᯓ his fingers sometimes creep up your neck, playing gently with your hair

ᯓ the entire thing is extremely soothing

ᯓ you know he knows something’s wrong

ᯓ and you also know he’s going to do everything in his power to fix it

ᯓ and you’re so grateful he just loves you

VOX:

ᯓ he doesn’t need you to say anything, ever

ᯓ he just knows what you need

ᯓ when he comes home and finds you in bed early, he knows you’ve had a difficult day

ᯓ he doesn’t know what happened, but he won’t ask until you’re feeling better

ᯓ he changes out of his work clothes and just gets into bed with you

ᯓ when you don’t say anything either, he pulls you into a cuddle, one hand pressing your head to his chest and the other cupping your hip

ᯓ “hi, vox.”

ᯓ he peppers your face in kisses

ᯓ “feeling off?” he asks

ᯓ you nod

ᯓ his fingers go to stroke your jaw

ᯓ “you can talk to me, you know. i want to make it better,” he tells you

ᯓ so you tell him everything

ᯓ whatever the issue was, the next day, he’s found some way to solve it

ᯓ just for you

ᯓ anything for you

VELVETTE:

ᯓ the minute you come home from work, exhaustion and misery rolling off of you in waves, she demands to know what’s wrong

ᯓ “is someone bothering you? is it your boss again? because i can get him fired.”

ᯓ you tell her everything

ᯓ she promises to help you with whatever it is that’s causing you trouble

ᯓ she’d tip the earth off it’s axis if you asked

ᯓ “come here, i want a kiss,” she tells you

ᯓ you very happily oblige

ᯓ she spends the entire night just spoiling (and worshiping) you

ᯓ the sheets of your bed are tangled between both your legs

ᯓ you’ve never felt more loved

ᯓ she murmurs about how your aniversary is coming up

ᯓ and tells you to get your nails done and dress pretty

ᯓ you don’t really know how you got here

ᯓ but you’re not upset

ᯓ you smile up at the ceiling, delightedly dazed

ᯓ you don’t even remember why you were upset

VALENTINO:

ᯓ he feels what you feel

ᯓ and at this point he can never leave you alone

ᯓ he NEEDS to be with you 24/7

ᯓ so naturally it’s like he’s dying when you come home looking upset

ᯓ “hey, no kiss hello?” he whines

ᯓ that manages to get you to laugh

ᯓ he smiles at your smiling

ᯓ you go over to kiss him and he catches your wrist before you walk off

ᯓ “no, c’mere,” he insists

ᯓ he tugs you into his lap and winds his arms around your waist

ᯓ he sets his chin on your shoulder

ᯓ “why’re you upset?”

ᯓ “oh, it’s nothing, val.”

ᯓ “bullshit.”

ᯓ you spill

ᯓ he rubs circles into your hip bone

ᯓ “i’d be upset, too,” he admits

ᯓ he kisses all up your neck

ᯓ “but we don’t have to think about that at all now. can we just spend some time together? i promise, though, if you’re still having problems i’ll gladly fuck up as many lives as you need.”

ᯓ you laugh, making him laugh

ᯓ you spend the rest of the night just sitting there talking to him

LUCIFER:

ᯓ the two of you are watching your current show, as you do every night, and he notices you’re zoning out

ᯓ he pauses it and looks down at you

ᯓ he dots a couple kisses over your brow

ᯓ “everything okay?”

ᯓ “rough day…”

ᯓ “why didn’t you tell me?”

ᯓ his expression is one of concern now, yet still absolutely laden with affection

ᯓ “i’m sorry, i’m not trying to keeping things from you or anything. i just don’t want to bother you.”

ᯓ “i want you to bother me. say everything that comes into your brain, i want to hear it.”

ᯓ he pulls you closer, palm smoothing over the back of your neck as he sets your head against his chest

ᯓ you tell him about your day, and how you were getting so frustrated

ᯓ frustrated everything was going wrong today, frustrated that the entire week was going wrong

ᯓ he listens intently, stroking your hair the entire time

ᯓ he gives soft “mhms” and “of courses” at your words

ᯓ he peppers warm kisses all over your face

ᯓ he does his best to give you a solution

ᯓ even if what he suggested doesn’t work, he’s sending you flowers to your house for the next week

ADAM:

ᯓ he’s a little confused, but he’s got the spirit

ᯓ he’s a little nervous to ask what’s wrong

ᯓ he’s afraid he won’t know what to do to make you feel better

ᯓ “hey, uh, everything okay?”

ᯓ you shrug

ᯓ “wanna talk about it?”

ᯓ you tell him everything

ᯓ he nods the entire time, his eyes never leaving your face

ᯓ he’s trying to memorize everything you’re saying

ᯓ he doesn’t really have any great solutions

ᯓ and he kind of hates himself for it

ᯓ he wants to help you, even if he doesn't make it obvious

ᯓ “hey, how about we go out tonight? take your mind off things.”

ᯓ you spend the night at dinner then wandering through a night market

ᯓ you both talk nonstop

ᯓ he gets you a bunch of trinkets

ᯓ just things that remind him of you

ᯓ and a bracelet, too

ᯓ he spends a bit of time fiddling with the clasp, eventually hooking it together and letting it sit on your wrist

ᯓ you don’t take the bracelet off

ᯓ ever

ᯓ at home, he’s worried you’re still upset

ᯓ but you’re not

ᯓ you fall asleep curled up against him, your worries now nonexistent

[kamaluhkhan]

TIME TO PRETEND

pairing: luke castellan x gn!poseidon!reader word count: 5k chapter summary: you're the eldest child of poseidon and the hero of the last great prophecy. you left your demigod life behind after defeating kronos. now, years later, you find yourself back at camp half blood for the summer.....which means dealing with luke castellan, and all that history (tension?) left unresolved between you. warnings: some nicknames for reader are based on female characters (mermista, sailor neptune) but they're still written as gender neutral. reader has tattoos. mention of alcohol + death (post-titan war). spoilers for the entire pjo (book) series, mostly references to the last olympian. timeline is all over the place but set in the early 2000s for vibes. no betrayal (au where chris was the one who sided w kronos and led the titan army) so slightly ooc luke <3 author's note: welcome to another product of my pjo hyperfixation !!! i wanted to finish the nemesis!reader series first but it's summer and i felt like reworking my tsitp series in a camp half-blood setting with bb luke. so prepare for childhood friends to lovers drama! summertime vibes! nostalgia! angst! would love to know what y'all think about this and if you want a part 2 so feel free to scream at me in the comments. otherwise, enjoy and thanks 4 reading 💙

♪: time to pretend by mgmt

YOU’VE GOT MAIL!

1 new message 

from: LukeNotSkywalker

to: Mermista86

subject: you are GETTING that record deal

Hey,

Your demo CD just came in the mail — and, Connor as my witness, I’ve already listened to it five times!!! 

It’s amazing. You’re amazing. The label would totally lose out if they didn’t sign you. 

Things have been pretty chaotic around here, with the summer term happening soon. Speaking of which: are you coming back? Chiron gave me the list of returning campers and counsellors this morning and said he hadn’t heard from you, so I thought I’d ask. I know you’ll be busy with the band, but if you get the chance, it’d be really great to see you.

Anyways, I’m leading the next Shield & Sword session, so I’d better go. Talk soon ;)

- L

FOUR YEARS LATER

TURBULENT WATERS? ALT-ROCK BAND MIDNIGHT SIRENS HIT ROUGH PATCH AFTER LEAD GUITARIST GETS INTO VIOLENT ALTERCATION 

the cover is the nail in the coffin: a blurry picture of you, an electric blue guitar forgotten at your feet, lunging forward into a crowd, with your bandmates on stage behind you in shock. 

you’d gone all this time without any major incidents, and one stupid chimera managed to burn down everything you worked for in one fell swoop.

“that’d be $8.50,” the cashier informs. 

you tear your attention away from the magazine, instead fishing through your pocket for some change. meanwhile, the cashier furrows their brow, leans down slightly to get a better look at you underneath your sunglasses and baseball cap. 

“hey, do i know you?”

“nope,” you say instantly, slapping a $10 bill onto the counter. “keep the change.” you gather your pile of necessary roadtrip supplies (slushies, m&m’s, and goldfish) before rushing out the door, your half-brother trailing behind you.

you slide into the driver’s seat, set each slushie in a cup holder, and hand the rest to percy once he’s slipped into the passenger side. 

“seatbelt,” you remind him. you shake your hair out after removing your baseball cap disguise. “i promised your mom i’d be responsible.” 

percy does as he’s told, though not without mumbling about how he’s practically an adult and a demigod who’s been in much more dangerous situations than a car ride up to long island. you just tell him to put on some music, even though he has a point. he’ll be 18 in august and you’re only five years older, but the fact is that you gave sally jackson your word. 

plus — you’re his older sibling, so gods forbid you let him get hurt. a seatbelt seems like a band-aid solution for one of the most powerful demigods out there, but still.

percy flips through a few radio stations while he sips his blue raspberry slushie. when he doesn’t find anything good, he opens the glove compartment and surveys your music collection before sliding a cd into the stereo. 

instantly, the familiar sound of david bowie’s voice eases the tension in your shoulders.

“good choice?” 

you nod and percy smiles triumphantly. you reach over to steal a few goldfish from the bag he just opened and ruffle his hair playfully, for good measure. 

you’re perfectly happy, driving along a long island highway while getting lost in the glam rock world of ziggy stardust, but it isn’t long until percy interrupts: 

“are you finally gonna tell me what happened, or do i have to read it from some trashy gossip magazine like everyone else?”

“well, your dyslexic ass can barely read so….”

you look over at him briefly, and laugh when you see him stick his slightly-blue tongue out to you. 

“at least my dyslexic ass is actually decent at ancient greek. luke told me you failed the reading test, like, a million times.”

your heart twinges at the mention of your old friend. 

friend.

if you could still call him that. 

thankfully, percy doesn’t give you much room to dwell on the past, too focused on your drama-filled present.

“so, what is it? you got kicked out of the band? lost everything? have nowhere else to go?”

you roll your eyes at his dramatics. “i did not get kicked out.” 

“then, what happened?”

“just the usual.” you shrug. “monster attack, mortals who can’t see through the mist. i tried to explain it away after — something about how i saw someone in the crowd attack another person and i stepped in to help. most people bought it, but the media loves drama and the label’s worried i’m a flight risk now. apparently, everything will blow over if i just keep a low profile for the next few months. so….no. i didn’t lose everything.” you take a deep, like when anyone other than children of poseidon are about to go underwater and they’re not quite sure when they can come up for air. 

“i just don’t really have anywhere else to go,” you finish.

“damn.” percy offers you a blue shark gummy (or whale - you and percy had already debated the shape of the candy that sally packed for the trip, and the jury’s still out). you gratefully accept. “well, i know it’s not the best reason, but i’m excited to spend the summer together.”

despite everything, you find yourself smiling. 

“me too, kid.” 

“it’d give me a chance to kick your ass in sword-fighting.”

“you wish!” you nudge his shoulder, both of you giggling. once the laughter’s died down, you glance at percy once more. “hey – did you tell anyone i was coming?”

percy shakes his head. “why?”

you take a long swig of your drink until you’re on the brink of brain freeze. 

“no reason.”

it’s just after lunch when you arrive at camp half-blood. 

you weren’t sure what you were expecting — maybe not some futuristic technological developments that had been discovered within the years you were gone, but definitely not for camp to look pretty much exactly the same as when you left. 

instantly, you find comfort in the familiar scenes: a dragon, peleus, guarding the magical borders; dryads and satyrs picking strawberries in the fields next to the forest; chiron standing near the central guidepost, greeting and guiding every camper in the right direction.

chiron smiles down at percy and practically does a double take when his eyes land on you.

“mx. l/n! it has been a while. are you here to drop off your brother, or do you plan on staying for the summer?”

before you can answer, someone appears behind him. 

“perce! hey!” 

“hey, luke.”

luke gives him a side hug, and percy shoves him away with a laugh when he ruffles his hair. it’s then that luke acknowledges you, though he looks like that’s the last thing he wants to do.

“i thought i’d never see you again. what are you doing here? ”

chiron turns to you expectedly. “i believe you have yet to answer that question of mine as well.”

“staying for the summer…” you adjust the shoulder strap of your backpack, uneased by luke’s cold demeanor. “i hope that’s okay.”

“of course!” chiron’s smile grows wide, eyes crinkling. “you’ll resume your position as head counsellor of cabin 3.”

“so i’m dethroned? just like that?” percy guffaws.

you nudge percy’s shoulder. “fulfill the next great prophecy, and then we’ll talk.” 

percy rolls his eyes playfully. luke, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to appreciate your tongue-in-cheek remark. his jaw tightens, and he suddenly finds a deep interest in the clipboard he’s holding.

chiron clears his throat, likely sensing the tension. “yes, well, i’m sure you remember how things work around here. if not, mr. castellan has been keeping this ship afloat. he's always here to help.”

“always.” luke smiles, but it’s elastic, threatening to snap at any moment. someone calls his name, and he walks away to deal with whatever chaos is waiting for him.

summer — age 15

you weren’t exactly conscious when you first arrived at camp half-blood. 

apparently, coach hedge, a satyr and protector, found you just in time and had to practically drag you up half-blood hill after a particularly gruesome fury attack. 

when you woke up and saw luke sleeping next to you in a chair, his curls overgrown and falling onto his eyes, you thought you had died and gone to elysium. 

you took in your unfamiliar surroundings. some sort of infirmary, with only your best friend next to you, the one you hadn’t seen in almost a year since you’d parted ways. 

then, you remembered what was happening before you passed out; it was more likely that you were being tricked into a false sense of security by that fury, who definitely planned on devouring you later.

with a newfound sense of urgency, you decided it was time to get out of there before it was too late. you were reaching for your knife when you felt a hand grab your shoulder. without losing a second, you twisted your body around, weapon at the ready.

whoever it was watching over you sure looked like luke. he was wearing a bright orange shirt and leather cord necklace with one clay bead. another point of difference was the jagged scar that cut across his left cheek.

“it’s just me,” he said, gently. “you’re fine here. you’re safe.”

you weren’t convinced, kept your knife in front of you to keep distance. “prove it.” you narrowed your eyes. “tell me something only luke would know.”

“you’re left-handed.”

“that’s a great observation,” you scoff.

“storm is your favourite x-men character.”

“that’s a very popular opinion.”

“your aunt would make us mango lassi after swim camp when she got home from work,” luke tries for the third time. “and, my mom - she used to call you ‘starfish.’”

your heart skipped a beat.

that was the confirmation you needed. 

the knife dropped from your hand, clattered on the wooden floor, as you pulled luke in for a hug. you were greeted by a familiar scent, that pear shampoo luke loved because it made his hair so soft, mixed with the smell of fresh pine trees. 

“it’s really you,” you mumbled into his shoulder.

despite sleeping for gods know how long, you were exhausted. you rested your weight into luke, but he didn’t seem to care.

“it’s really you. i thought i’d never see you again.”

“where are we?” you asked, breaking away to face luke. you ignored the wooziness you felt throughout your body; luke seemed to sense it, his grip around you tightening. “are annabeth and thalia here, too? how’d you get here?” your thumb traced the unfamiliar scar on his face. “what happened? are you okay —”

“i-i’ll answer all your questions, but you lost a lot of blood.” luke guided you to lay back down in bed. “we’ll explain everything. just get some rest.”

a third scenario entered your mind: this was all a dream. you’d close your eyes and when you opened them again, luke would be gone. you’d be alone again.

you couldn’t let go of luke’s hand, even as he tucked you back into bed. you tugged his wrist, silently urging him to join you.

“will you stay with me?” you finally croaked when he continued standing. 

luke looked at you, and you nodded once as final confirmation. then, he removed his shoes and slipped into the bed next to you. it was luke, all sweet pear and soft curls and strong heartbeat, and you held on to him in fear that he might slip away.

“always,” he whispered.

during the orientation video you were later shown, you learned that camp half-blood’s motto is keeping young heroes safe (mostly) for over three millennia!  

luke had used that word, too. safe.

chiron told you this was to be your new home as he walked you to the poseidon cabin. he told you that you were safe now, though you noticed how the word almost got caught in his throat. he gave you a sad smile you didn’t quite understand.

you did wonder, at first, if those words were true: this place, a home for you and other children of gods. somewhere safe.

and, well.

you came to understand chiron’s general melancholy a few weeks later, and every week after that. he was used to training and sending heroes off to their potential death, and you would be no different. stolen lightning bolts, deadly quests, cryptic prophecies. a pending war between divine forces you had been entangled with long before you knew. heartache and betrayal and loss beyond measure. 

but, there were other things, too. 

annabeth, fitting in perfectly at the athena cabin, continued being her genius self, leading her team to victory every capture the flag game. she was extra patient in helping you with ancient greek, especially after chiron had given up.

chris rodriguez, luke’s half-brother, would tell you jokes from across the dining pavilion, knowing that you hated sitting alone at the poseidon table. michael yew, son of apollo, taught you how to play guitar at the bonfire one week; you’d ask for more and more lessons until you could start playing on your own. charles beckendorf made you a celestial bronze sword that shone like that burst of light when the sun hits the ocean at sunset. it transformed into a ring that you would never take off, unless in battle. you might not have gotten along with mr. d, but you spent free time picking fresh strawberries with his son, castor. you made matching friendship bracelets with silena beauregard, who was really the only person you confided in, about how you maybe possibly felt something other than friendship when it came to luke. she told you about her crush on clarisse larue, the daughter of ares whom you would always partner with during sparring practice. you taught ethan nakamura, who didn’t have his own cabin as the child of nemesis, how to properly hold a sword. thalia’s tree stood tall at the top of the hill where you almost bled to death, protecting you and everyone inside the magical borders. you, annabeth, and luke would share a picnic there every thursday.

you had been on the run for so long, always looking over your shoulder for monsters, sleeping with one eye open to be one step ahead of death, jumping from one place to the next so quickly to avoid danger.

so, yes. 

it was nice to stay in one place, where you knew you were as safe as demigods could be. it was nice to spend your time learning and training and laughing instead of just surviving. 

it was nice to have a place to call home. and people to call it home with.

now 

the first week passes in the blink of an eye, and it’s like you never left.

tie-dye, volleyball, strawberry picking, kitchen duty, and cabin inspection. 

luke has everyone on a tight schedule — one, you notice, conveniently places the two of you at opposite ends of camp at all times.

still, you catch up with clarisse and the stoll brothers, spend time with annabeth and percy, say hi to pollux and katie gardner and others you vaguely recognize as five years older than what you remember. there are also a lot of faces you don’t recognize at all.

of course, you try not to think about the faces you wished you could see: friends you grew up with and would never have a laugh with again, younger campers you had trained who would never grow up. all lost because of the gods and the titans and a prophecy you never asked to be a part of. 

it’s a side effect of being back here; their ghosts are harder to ignore.

again — trying not to think about it.

anyways.

climbing wall, armory, sword-fighting practice, archery field, and free time on the beach.

to conclude: capture-the-flag, a friday night camp-half blood tradition.

you’re praising annabeth for her latest strategy that led to blue team victory when you notice luke. he was also on the blue team, but instead of celebrating with the rest of you, he’s speaking to someone who’s wearing a red helmet. they seem to be in a heated discussion, one that luke is not wanting to continue. his tells are the same, after all these years: the impatient tapping of his foot, his eyes searching for an out.

you give it to him.

“sorry, i need to borrow this guy.” you say, grabbing luke’s wrist. “camp emergency.” 

if the person said anything, you didn’t hear it, because you were already dragging luke away from the crowd, towards the armory shed. 

“what’s the emergency?” luke wonders, brows furrowed in concern. he has deep shadows under his eyes, too. keeping the ship that is camp half-blood afloat has clearly taken a toll on him. 

“you wanting to get out of that conversation. you’re welcome.” you wink at him; luke flushes, and you’re not sure if it’s because he’s annoyed, or if he's just flustered. “so, are you gonna keep ignoring me the whole summer?”

you put your helmet on one of the shelves and turn back to luke. you expected him to start removing his armor as well, but he doesn’t. he just glares at you, arms crossed over his chest.

so, he’s annoyed, then. 

“what do you expect?” luke hisses. “you can’t come back here and pretend that everything can be like it was when we were kids. things are different now, especially between us.”

you decide to take him up on his challenge. 

“oh? tell me, luke, what exactly is different between us?”

luke shakes his head in disbelief. you remove your chest plate, and that’s when the tattoo on your waist becomes visible. it’s a magnolia, like one of the flowers that bloomed on the tree outside may castellan’s house. 

something in luke softens, then. he sighs. 

“you could have at least given me a warning.”

he storms off, and you’re left half-armored, wondering what he meant by that.

you figure it out once a few of you settle down for a late-night, underground poker game, and you’re trying not to stare at luke’s hands.

it starts with you telling yourself that you’re just trying to predict what cards he’s holding, figure out if he’s bluffing, and if he’s about to lose everything he’d so confidently bet on. 

but then you notice the silver thumb ring that thalia got him for his 17th birthday. you notice an array of hair ties and elastic bands he keeps just in case a camper needs them, and woven bracelets given to him by his admirers. you notice how the tattoo on his wrist is covered. (it’s hidden well, but you know it’s there — you’d gotten one of a wing, the kind that might be found on a pair of magical red converse, at the same time)

you also notice the forest green painted on luke’s nails, the same shade worn by the person beside him.

van, the new head counsellor of the hephaestus cabin. you’d seen them at staff meetings, but you somehow did not notice that they were dating luke. 

he moved on — is that why luke needed a warning? is that what's changed between you?

it’s fine. whatever. so what if luke has a new partner? it’s not like the two of you were anything, officially. 

luke has a new partner. they’re wearing matching nail polish. they’re one of those couples.

well, van is also wearing a nickleback shirt and luke hates nickleback, unless that fundamental part of his personality changed, too. 

“yo, sailor neptune. you in or not?” travis brings you out of your daze, by using a nickname luke once called you.

back before becoming heroes, when you and luke were just kids, you’d watch cartoons in his living room on saturday mornings — x-men, she-ra: princess of power, teenage mutant ninja turtles, sailor moon. a lifetime ago.

you look around the table and see that everyone has been waiting for you to take your turn. even luke raises an eyebrow at you.

“yeah.” you clear your throat and throw some chips into the centre. “i’m in.”

you have decent enough cards to keep you in the game, and you’re comfortable that you can play the odds in your favor. the stoll brothers are good liars, you know that, and so is luke. malcolm pace is good at strategy, but thankfully not as good as his half-sister annabeth. pollux, who had invited you to the game, already folded along with butch, the son of iris who has a rainbow tattoo on his bicep to prove it. beside you, lou ellen, daughter of the hecate, contemplates her next move. clovis has fallen asleep, true to their title as head counsellor of the hypnos cabin. you can’t get a read on van, but they keep raising the stakes so confidently, and you’ve always liked a good challenge.

soon enough, it’s only you and van in the bet. when it comes time to reveal your cards, you curse yourself for overplaying your hand.

“good game,” van says to you as they collect their winnings. “you really had me going there.” 

“yeah.” your smile is strained, but it’s there nonetheless. “tried my best.”

“guess the curse of achilles doesn’t help as much in poker as it does in capture the flag.” 

“excuse me?” you raise an eyebrow.

luke, who had one arm casually draped around van’s chair the entire game, pulls away. “van, maybe don’t —”

“it’s not like it’s a secret, luke. they’re the prophecy kid, everyone knows they bathed in the river styx to be able to fight kronos. it’s camp legend.”

other than you, luke, and van, everyone else is occupied with something else. connor busies himself shuffling the cards, while lou ellen, malcolm, and pollux get up for more drinks. it seems like butch and travis have their own bet going to see who can balance the most chips on clovis’ forehead without waking him up. 

van waits for an answer. you’re a little queasy, and it’s not from the wine pollux managed to snag from his dad’s office. you’re suddenly faced with the reality that your life is reduced to a legend. you try your best to swallow that feeling, of being made into a greek tragic hero while your heart is still beating, and your life is still a mess.

“that’s relevant, why?”

“just that some people might consider the invulnerability thing an unfair advantage in physical competitions like capture the flag,” van explains. “increased strength and all that.” 

“that would mean nothing without a good strategy,” you counter.

“that’s what i said,” luke grumbles. 

you recognize van now as the person luke was arguing with earlier. it must have been about this. 

about you. 

“okay, y’all were best friends, so luke is obviously going to take your side.”

you’re not sure what stings more: friends or were. 

“although, he never really talks about you, which is weird because you’re, like, famous in and outside camp.”

ouch. that definitely stings the most. luke winces slightly, almost like he feels it, too.

“alright, alright,” connor interjects, shuffling the cards in his hands. “another round?” 

you’re the only one who decides to call it a night. everyone says goodbye; even van, who’s blissfully unaware of the effect their words had on you. luke avoids your gaze. the game continues without you.

percy’s snoring provides enough cover as you sneak into your shared cabin. you try to sleep, but it doesn’t come easy. 

you feel the spot underneath your rib, the one spot you’re truly vulnerable, ache.

summer — age 17

for the first time in your life, you couldn’t breathe underwater. you were swimming in acid, and your skin was melting away.

at least, that’s what it felt like to bathe in the river styx. achilles could have mentioned that, but all he gave was a cryptic warning about anchoring yourself to what makes you mortal.

you really tried at first. you thought about your friends at camp. you thought about percy, about your aunt back when she was still around. you even thought about may castellan, burnt cookies and saturday mornings.

the pain was too much, though. 

you were forgetting where you were, who you were. with every passing second, you were dissolving into nothing.

“if you wanted to go for a swim, you should have told me. i would have worn my swimsuit.”

luke’s voice echoed across the waves. you tilted your head up to see him sitting on the dock above you, his feet dangling into the water. he had rolled up his jeans to just above his ankles so they didn’t get wet, but his shoes were still on, which was a bit strange. the sun made his eyes look like burnt amber, his teeth sparkling as he smiled at you. 

okay. cool.

you were at camp. it was mid-afternoon, free period. the two of you had been at the edge of the lake, until you became impatient and jumped in, fully clothed. behind him, you could see that annabeth, thalia, and percy were waiting for you on the shore. they were each wearing orange camp shirts, which was also strange; you couldn’t remember a time when you were all there together, as campers.

“we better go, sailor,” luke said, amusement laced throughout his words. “come on. those cabins aren’t gonna inspect themselves.”

luke extended his hand to you. when you hesitated, he added:

“i can’t do this without you. will you stay with me?”

you reached up and grabbed luke’s hand.

always.

you emerged from the water, catching your breath as you collapsed on the sand. 

“oh gods. are you okay?”

your cousin, nico diangelo, son of hades, knelt down next to you. he tried to check your pulse, but you waved him away. your eyes searched for luke, but he wasn’t there, despite feeling the ghost of his hand in your own. 

oh.

you weren’t at camp; you were in the underworld. it was nico’s idea for you to take on the curse of achilles so that you’d be strong enough to face kronos. 

“did it work?”

you got up, a bit uneasy on your feet at first. nico helped steady you, his hands cold on your skin.

you felt….stronger wasn’t the right word. you felt adrenaline coursing through your veins, like you could swim across the biggest ocean without pausing once. like you could defeat an entire army and not break a sweat. maybe even take down a titan or two while you're at it.

you needed to see luke again, to meet him and the others in manhattan before it was too late.

“let’s hope so.”

now

you always loved mornings at camp half-blood. the beach was particularly beautiful at sunrise, the water peaceful.

the morning after that impromptu poker game, you need that peacefulness to wash over you. you’re awake after a rather sleepless night, deciding to go for a quick run before breakfast. you get dressed and grab your mp3 player, as quietly as you can to avoid waking up percy (who, truthfully, could probably sleep through a hurricane anyways). 

you jog from one end of the beach to the other. you set a steady rhythm, somewhere between the beat of your music and the sound of waves gently washing over the shore. when you make your way back down to where you started, you notice someone sitting nearby.

luke doesn’t say anything when you first sit next to him. he’s wearing a dark blue hoodie over his usual orange shirt, a cigarette tucked behind his ear. you imagine that he confiscated it from a camper on the way here. 

“morning,” he finally whispers, eyes fixed towards the ocean. 

you shiver, and not just from the cool morning air. you’re reminded of the last time luke spoke to you so softly, the last time you’d caught an early morning sunrise together. such a contrast to where you are now.

“morning,” you finally reply. 

as the sound of waves fills the silence between you, luke surprises you by taking a lighter out of his pocket. he lights the cigarette and takes a puff. then, he hands it to you. 

it’s such an odd, though not unwelcomed, gesture. a peace offering, you figure, but it’s just so not luke that you can���t help yourself.

“is golden boy luke castellan, offering me contraband? what planet am i on?”

the hint of a smile creeps onto his face. “like i said: things are different now,” he echoes his words from the night before, but this time you don’t sense any hostility.

you take a drag of the cigarette. your fingers brush against his when you return it to him.

you decide to offer a peace offering as well, and present to him one of your earbuds — he accepts. you have to slide across the sand to move closer to him, but he doesn’t seem to mind. 

i’m feelin’ rough, i’m feeling raw / i’m in the prime of my life….

as the song plays, you glance to see luke nodding along, tapping a finger on his knee to the beat. he lets the cigarette smoulder in his other hand.

we’re fated to pretend / to pretend / yeah, yeah, yeah….

when the song is over, luke turns to you. 

“new group?” he brings the cigarette to his lips, then gives it back to you.

“kinda.” you inhale, letting the smoke warm your lungs before explaining. “this is considered they’re breakthrough album. they’re from connecticut, actually.”

“oh, yeah? guess that’s where all the talent is from.”

luke bumps his shoulder against yours knowingly. you feel your cheeks heat up at his praise, his witty sincerity.

this is familiar — you and luke, at the beach, sharing music. it’s familiar, and for a few moments, you can act like there isn’t a wall between you, of unresolved feelings and harsh words. you can pretend that nothing has changed.

“you know, nickleback are from connecticut, too. which means you just called them talented.”

luke coughs on some smoke as he exhales with a laugh. “what? no i didn’t!”

“in a roundabout way. i always knew you were an undercover fan,” you tease.

“i have better taste than that.”

“do you?”

“you’re fucking with me,” luke deadpans.

you crack a smile. “yeah, i’m fucking with you.”

“gods, you scared me for a second,” he laughs, and you can’t help but follow. luke glances at you and the sunshine highlights his smile, his dark brown curls, the ever-changing color of his eyes. golden, radiant. 

you shiver again, looking away. before you know it, you feel something draped across your shoulders.

“i’m not sure van would like it if i was wearing your hoodie.” you joke, but your words are laced with a bitterness you hope luke doesn’t catch. unlucky for you, luke still knows you too well, whether he likes it or not.

“you don’t get to do that.”

“do what?”

luke scoffs. “be jealous.” 

“well, you don’t get to tell me how to feel.”

“so, you are jealous?”

you exhale sharply; you can practically feel the wall between you two reappear.

“it’s too early, lu. and i’m too hungover to deal with this.”

there’s nothing more left to say. you get up, throw his hoodie on the sand, and walk back towards your cabin, the beach and luke further away with every step you take.

it makes sense that way: you were always the one to leave first.

[earthtooz]

x : LOVE OF A KIND :*+ﾟ

in which: kaiser needs to be reassured that you love him, even if it's just a fraction of how special you are to him.

warnings: 2.3k words, toothrotting fluff and minor angst, kaiser is intoxicated, mentions of alcohol and clubbing, insecure!kaiser, gn!reader, BAD WRITING and ooc!kaiser probably, established relationship, if this flops i will cry. here we love pathetic men.

a/n: fuck you @kruinka for birthing this. actually fuck you. that's the a/n. enjoy whatever this is!

it’s approximately 1am when your phone vibrates violently on the kitchen counter, disturbing the gentle, unrushed ambience of friday evening (or saturday morning) in your apartment. pressing the space bar of your laptop with a lot more force than necessary, the show you were watching pauses as you throw the blankets off you, the chill of the air seeping into your body with each step you take.

noticing the contact name, you accept the call readily, pressing the ‘speaker’ option. immediately, you hear the noise of club music, people singing along and indistinct chatter.

“hello?” you ask, directly into the microphone.

“y/n?” ness’s voice returns.

“hey, what’s up?”

“sorry for bothering you so late. were you about to go to bed?”

“no, actually, i was staying up. something the matter?”

“it’s kaiser,” the brunet-purple-haired boy tells you and your heart drops with anxiety, mind beginning to race with whatever your egotistical, narcissism-driven boyfriend could have got himself into.

probably tried to square up someone far more impressive, for all you know. did he break something? spit in someone’s drink?

“i-it’s nothing bad!” ness reassures, “he’s just asking for you.” 

oh. that’s not so terrible. “okay, but why?”

in the phone’s proximity, you can hear someone stumbling and muttering in the background. there’s an indistinct mumble of your name and ness confirming your presence on the other side of the phone, followed by an excited ‘really?’ from the mystery figure. you find comfort in the fact that you know it’s kaiser before the person even has to announce himself.

“sorry, he’s just asking for you… a lot,” the soccer player informs with a little hesitation.

before you can inquire further about it, kaiser’s voice echoes in the background. “let me talk to y/n!” he sounds faraway, but you can imagine his expression regardless from just the desperately excited tone he has. 

“i can tell,” you chuckle. 

“give me the phone, ness,” kaiser demands. there’s a sentence of complaint from the midfielder and some (aggressive) rustling before you can hear your boyfriend loud and clear. “baby!” he slurs.

“hello, kaiser,” you say, grinning stupidly at the sound of his voice.

“hi beautiful. are you well?” the blond sounds a little clearer now and the music seems to have diminished a little. he must have retreated to a ‘quieter’ corner of the club. 

“as well as i can be at home. what about you?”

“i’m great now that i’m with you,” he murmurs, sounding more melancholy than usual, just ever so slightly. you dismiss the shift by blaming it on the alcohol, but there’s a tug at your gut that tells you that the drinks aren’t the sole reason.

you melt a little. “shouldn’t you be dancing or something? why are you calling me?”

“i love calling you,” he whines. “please don’t hang up.”

“if you’re sure… i’m not too sure that a club is the best place to call though.” 

“i don’t care. so long as i’m with you, anything’s fine.”

you huff, tapping your fingers on the counter, trying not to let his sweetened words get to you. “really though, you should be going back to partying and letting loose-”

“do you not like talking to me?” kaiser whispers. you can practically hear the pout in his tone, imagining the way his shoulders slump defeatedly. funny how such a powerful, influential, and unbreakable character can be reduced to nothing in your grasp. 

you couldn’t ever imagine abusing that power though, not when michael kaiser is the one in the centre of your palm. “i do. i love talking to you, i’m just concerned that you’re not using the time wisely.” 

“i’m wise. i’m super wise. right, babe? tell me i’m wise.”

where you would have played with him a little and strung him along with saccharine sarcasm, a small giggle escapes your lips instead. that would be saved for sober kaiser. “you are, you are,” you reassure, suddenly filled with the urge to see him. 

“thanks babe. i love you,” he whimpers. “please say you love me too.”

furrowing your brows at his uncharacteristic display of neediness and constant gratification, you were beginning to grow concerned at his odd behaviour. sure, kaiser loved to be praised for his skills, but there was something wrong about the athlete tonight. you’ve never heard him beg to be complimented like he is tonight, but with the add-ins of alcohol and whatever else, you don’t know whether to flag this or not.

“kaiser, can you give the phone back to ness?” you ask gently.

he whines, “say you love me too!”

“i’m picking you up, kaiser, give the phone back to ness so i can tell him.”

“will i get to see you?”

“if you give the phone back to ness, you will.”

“really? hang on, babe!” 

there’s a bit more rustling, resembling something that sounds like kaiser pushing through a crowd as he holds the phone in his grip, saying ‘move’ to bypassers in his way. after a short conversation that you can’t pick up between the familiar voices of your boyfriend and his best friend, you hear ness’ voice clearly once again. “hey, everything okay?”

“everything’s fine,” you say, having grabbed your keys and a jacket whilst waiting. “i’m driving over to pick kaiser up, hope that doesn’t inconvenience you guys.”  

“not at all. i’ll send you the location of the club. there are 15 minute parking places just outside.”

“thanks ness, i appreciate it.”

“don’t worry. see you soon.” 

“i’ll let you know when i arrive. tell kaiser to wait for me.”

you hang up after that, not waiting for a farewell from the soccer player as you plug your keys into the ignition, the car revving alive. after a 20 or so minute drive to downtown (the lack of traffic at one am made it so much easier to get there faster), you park at the curbside of the street opposite the club, clambering out of your car to lean against the driver’s door, where you could see the club entrance easily.

after shooting a quick text to ness, you wait patiently for the appearance of your beloved boyfriend, hugging your jacket close to your figure. 

six minutes later, you see them; a shorter figure lugging out a taller one over his shoulder with little struggle. regardless of kaiser’s inebriated position, you could recognise his silhouette anywhere, heart picking up a little as you jog over to the club, feet taking you where your heart wanted to go.

“ness!” you call out. 

upon hearing your voice, kaiser’s head shoots up from where it was drooped, scanning the general vicinity of where you were before he spots you. the smile that lights up on his face is instantaneous; a grin that rivals that of the club lights.

“my love!” he exclaims excitedly, stumbling over to you with surprising accuracy for someone who must have drank his body weight in alcohol. immediately, the athlete wraps you up in his arms, the smell of beer invading your senses as kaiser shields you completely from the outside world. “i’m so happy to see you.”

“i’m happy to see you too.”

after a few seconds of relishing in his warmth and (much-appreciated) silence, you take a mini-step away from him; an action the blond clearly did not take well as he groans, manoeuvring himself to now hug you from the side, head resting against yours as you pulls you towards him possessively.

you wave at ness from where you stood, unable to move with the striker clinging onto you. “thank you, ness. i’m sorry for disturbing your night out, you know how kaiser gets,” you say with a laugh, patting your boyfriend on the back.

“no, thank you for taking care of him. i’m glad he has you.”

“and i’m glad he has you too. you should go back inside, i got it from here.”

he nods, waving after a quick farewell before heading back in, disappearing from sight. sighing, you reposition yourself so that it was comfortable to prop him up against you. 

“hey, handsome, you with me?” cupping his face with both of your hands, he nods in your grip, eyes drooping here and there as he stares down at you with unmatched gentleness and love. you add as a light-hearted joke: “you used to be able to party until the clubs close, what happened?”

he grabs your wrists, holding on to them as he speaks, “you still never said ‘i love you’.” 

“oh,” you laugh, letting the sound spill freely. “my bad-”

“-why are you laughing?”

his question shuts you up, catching you off guard as the laughter diminishes like an extinguished match. uncertainty dances within you like smoke, greying the giddy mood you were previously in from being reunited with him. 

looking him square in the eye, you notice something that you’ve never seen him wear before: insecurity. 

kaiser looks so… abashed. sheepish. dismayed. your chest clenches at the sight, a feeling of protectiveness overwhelming you. 

“what do you mean?” you ask cautiously.

“why are you laughing at me?” repeats the athlete.

“oh kaiser,” brushing a strand of hair behind his ears, you see his frown even clearer. “i’m not laughing at you, it wasn’t meant to be mocking, i was laughing because you’re adorable and that you make me happy.”

he huffs, furrowing his brows. “are you sure?”

“of course i am. is everything okay, love?”

no answer. after a moment of simply standing around, you let it go because maybe it was just the alcohol that was making him act this way. you don’t want to think too hard about it. 

“let’s go home,” you whisper, grabbing his hands with yours, intertwining your fingers as you wait for his response.

“okay,” he slurs, nodding compliantly. 

“do you need my help walking?”

“yes,” he drapes himself over you without hesitation, causing you to groan uncomfortably. your question was said majorly as a joke, but kaiser will never let go of an opportunity to be as close to you as possible. 

stumbling back to the car with a half-coherent athlete was difficult but not impossible. unlocking the vehicle, you open the passenger’s door rather easily, shoving him in there with an ‘oof’ from both of you. however, when you tried to pull away, you were met with a chain and lock around your waist, manifested in the form of your overgrown boyfriend who is too liberal with the amount of physical affection he spares.

you place a hand on his shoulder to try and steady yourself from his iron grip. “hey, i need to go to the driver’s seat, can’t you let me go to do that?”

kaiser whines loudly, pulling you even closer. “please don’t make me let go. i don’t want to.”

he was not good for your health. you exhale, slightly perplexed, slightly touched by his devotion. “babe, i’m just going to the driver’s seat. you’ll let me, won’t you?” 

“no. wanna keep you with me. want to love you forever,” his words are muffled into your jacket before the athlete brings his head out of your stomach to look you square in the eye, and the shiny, emotional look in them makes your heart lurch. “please say there’s no one else for you but me.”

grabbing both sides of his face with tender affection, you place a kiss on his nose; an action that causes him to scrunch his nose out of instinct. “you know there will never anyone but you. i love you just as much in kind.”

he sighs, melting against you. the night air nips at your exposed skin but you can’t find it in you to care much.

“so… you don’t think that i’m too much?” the star striker questions and you think you’ve uncovered the root of tonight’s strangeness; the main problem that’s been bothering him.

“a lot? maybe” you whisper and his face falls slightly at your confession, a flash of devastation crossing his features. his expression of ruin is slow to fade so you kiss it off, sealing your lips with his in a gentle meeting of two hearts, hoping to heal his sorrow that was carved from a moment of misunderstanding. 

you pull away from him but the striker continues chasing after your touch.

“but never too much.” 

an exhale of relief leaves him before he straightens up to meet your lips again, hand snaking up to the back of your neck to hold you against him as he tries to communicate all that he feels-  which is everything. 

kaiser loves selectively, but he loves hard, dedicating everything of his that he can until he’s squeezed dry and rendered empty, ready for a refill that he’ll inevitably give away, all to you. 

kaiser’s heart rests in your hands, where it rightfully belongs.

“i love you,” slurs the striker against your lips. “i know i can be a lot but i love you. please never leave me. what is the meaning of life if you’re not there with me?” 

you can’t help wondering about what happened tonight for him to reach such a state of existentialism, but there’s no time to dwell on it now whilst he’s still intoxicated and vulnerable. gently, you hold his jaw so he could look up at you. 

“i might not show it as unabashedly as you do, but please never doubt that i love you. i adore you with my whole being, kaiser, there’s no one else in the world for me like you,” you confess, voice gentle and unwavering. 

he doesn’t let you see the way his eyes mist before closing them and leaning into your touch. “i would do anything for you,” the striker whispers.

“anything, you say?”

he nods.

“then let’s go home and sleep. what do you say, handsome?”

“what a brilliant idea. you’re so smart, my love.”

“thank you but you need to let go of me in order for that to happen.”

he begins wailing in protest.

© 2023 EARTHTOOZ do not plagarise, translate, or repost any of my work on other sites.

[biting-miguel-ohara]

Solnyshko - Natasha Romanoff x gn!Reader

A/N: I really really wanted to write a small thing for Natasha, so here we are. I set this in a 2012ish era, which is why the Avengers live at the Tower and such. I might do something more with this Reader and their powers in a future story as well.

Also, solnyshko means little sun in Russian. It’s the only potentially gendered language in the fic

Dividers by @/whimsicalrogers

CW: fluff, language, soft Natasha, Natasha speaks Russian, Reader is a former SHIELD agent, Reader has powers, failed missions, mentions of blood and injury, very very light angst, a forehead kiss, soft ending, probably ooc Natasha

640 words

“Hey, Nat,” you greet the red-haired Avenger with a sleepy smile. “Early morning, huh?”

“Good morning, solnyshko.” Natasha smiles back at you, handing you a cup of tea. “I should be saying that to you. You look like you’re still half-asleep.”

You laugh and rub the back of your neck, taking a sip of your drink. “I feel like it. I dunno how you can do early morning missions. I feel like shit.”

Natasha just smiles and pulls out a seat for you at the table.

You’re a former SHIELD agent. One of Barton’s old teammates. You’ve known Natasha since the day she joined.

Now you’re an unofficial member of the new team. The big team. You deal with the remnants of SHIELD for them and they help you train your powers.

You don’t have anything really special. No magic or anything. But your light powers come in handy for making illusions and you’ve been called in several times to help out with Loki when he comes to Earth. So all in all, you’re not complaining.

You take a seat at the table and enjoy the bits of morning you have. You’re leaving in an hour and you want to savor your last moments with the team.

Well, the members of the team who are up. Cap comes in before his morning run, but doesn’t stick around for long. Tony passes through briefly to grab a cup of coffee. The others, you know they won’t be up for another couple of hours at least.

So you enjoy your morning with Natasha. It’s been a while since you and her chatted, and you enjoy the conversation.

Eventually your time is up.

“Wish me luck,” you tell her with a wry smile.

She laughs and gives you a fond look. “You’ll do great. You’re our best, after all.”

You laugh at that and head on out.

Your return isn’t nearly as happy or cheerful.

The mission was a failure. Despite your best efforts, your target got the jump on you and shot you four times. You’d barely made the journey back, your wounds bleeding profusely.

By the time you’re sent to the medbay, you’re woozy with loss of blood. Your steps are sluggish and you lean against the wall for support.

There’s a voice calling your name. Then arms sliding under you, scooping you up.

There’s hair as red as blood brushing against your face. And then your eyes shut.

When you open them again, you’re in your room at the Tower. Your body aches like hell, but you can feel all your limbs.

You shift your arm, your muscles groaning in protest. Still, you force yourself up a bit, before a hand on your shoulder stops you.

“You gotta lie down.” It’s Natasha, looking rather tired and weary. “Doctor’s orders.”

“Fuck the doctor,” you mutter, trying to get up further.

Natasha gently pushes you back down. “Not the time, solnyshko.”

You don’t resist further. Instead, you sigh and stare up at the ceiling. “The mission failed.”

“It wasn’t your fault. We had bad intel.” She toys with the sleeve of your shirt. “Our inside man was a double agent.”

“Still. I could’ve done better.”

She gently flicks your forehead. “Don’t play that game. You did what you could. Getting shot like that would put anyone out of commission.”

You look at her. At her red-as-blood hair. “Even you?”

She smiles faintly. “Even me.”

It makes you feel a bit better and you nod. “Thanks.”

She leans in and kisses your forehead. “Always.”

A yawn overtakes you and you groan softly. Natasha laughs a little. “Go back to sleep. Your wounds need time to heal.”

You yawn again and nod, letting your eyes close. “Goodnight, Nat.”

Her fingers find yours and she gives your hand a light squeeze. “Goodnight, solnyshko. Sweet dreams.”

[lowkeyrobin]

hello ! i was wondering if you would be able to write a fic of Percy ( PJO ) befriending a child of ares reader ( or hypnos , either is fine ! ). If you are not able to, that is alright as well! Have a great day / night !

- 🗡️

hi 🗡!! of course I could! I did child of hypnos because I thought it was cooler and shit idrk ; also gave reader some little sleep powers cause why not ; have a good day/night to you as well! ; thanks for requesting, hope you enjoy!

PERCY JACKSON ; slumbering demi-god

summary ; you meet good old Percy Jackson and helped him when he couldn't sleep

warnings ; language

disclaimers ; Percy is a little ooc but I was attempting to make him a little bit older (about 14-16 but no like danger or quests to go on yk)

word count ; 710

masterlist

"Oh, shit, I'm so sorry!" You exclaim, holding your shoulder after accidently walking into another camper.

"You're fine, sorry, that was my fault" He awkwardly smiles, "You okay?"

"Yeah, sorry"

"What's your name? I don't think I've seen you before?" The boy asks, pushing his curly blonde hair away from his face.

"Y/n" You answer, rubbing your eyes a bit, "Sorry, really drowsy this morning"

"You say sorry a lot"

"I know, jackass"

"Gods, okay, damn"

"Oh, yeah, I know Y/n" Annabeth nods, "They're a child of Hypnos, like, the personification of sleep and slumber"

Percy nods, humming in response. "So, like, they just sleep a lot?"

"They can make people sleep slash fall into a deep slumber on command, basically. But they have to sleep a lot to keep themselves charged"

"Huh, interesting," Percy shrugs. "Like how I just drink gallons of water every day to keep myself hydrated? And somehow I don't fall ill to water poisoning?"

"Yeah, something like that, Perc"

You roll your eyes, sending the young camper to sleep on command with a wave of your fingers. "Sorry, but I'm not dealing with cranky kids in the morning"

You sigh, retrieving outside to get a breath of air before heading to bed.

"Hey, Y/n!" You hear a slightly familiar voice call.

You quickly turn your head toward the source of the sound, that kid you bumped into earlier today. He still wears the same orange Camp Half-Blood shirt, his blonde curls a mess upon his head now.

"Hi?" You reply, more like a question if anything. "I don't know your name, so-"

"Percy" He answers, "So, like, you can make people sleep on command?"

"Mhm," You hum, "What? You need some sleep?"

Percy awkwardly rubs the nape of his neck with a sideways smile. "Uh, yeah. Kinda, yeah"

You softly smile, walking down to him. "You're lucky I'm not forcing you to sleep right here, Percy. Lead the way home"

He spins on his heels, leading you toward the Poseidon cabin, which he ran and was the only resident of. He welcomes you in, apologizing for the mess of empty water bottles across the floor.

"Gods, how much water do you drink?" You ask him, picking a few up to throw them away. You were not navigating through that whole maze at a time like this.

"Uh, a lot," He answers, not really giving a definite explanation. "Sorry for this, by the way. I just haven't been able to sleep recently-"

"It's fine." You shrug, tossing the empty bottles into the bin. "What I'm here for, right?" You smile, re-tying the drawstrings on your pajama pants. "You can like, lay down, unless you're planning to sleep on the floor"

He nods, climbing into his bed. Halfway through the motion, you wave your fingers, and into slumber, he falls. His blanket is halfway draped over him, his arm hanging over the side of the bed.

"Night-night, Percy"

"Y/n!"

"Hey, Percy"

"You couldn't have at least let me get covered?"

"I'd quiet down, Percy"

"You-" He groans, "You know what I meant"

"You wanted to sleep, no?"

"I meant you probably could've waited for me to actually get in my bed before spelling me to sleep with your fantasy fairy powers," He clarifies.

You shrug, leaning against the fence outside your cabin. "You got what you wanted, Jackson"

His eyebrows quickly furrow, "I never told you my last name"

"It's almost like you're a camp hero, dude" You playfully roll your eyes. "How'd you sleep?"

Percy opened his mouth to speak but was quickly stopped, realizing that you had the advantage here and he'd already lost.

"Good" He admits.

"Just good?"

"Great, actually"

"Will you be recommending my services to other people? On a scale of one to ten, how likely is that?" You ask, mocking some trivia at the end of an online therapy session.

"Oh, definitely an eleven. I'll get you more money and clients, don't worry."

"Yeah, sure, buddy"

"Buddy?"

"I'm testing the waters to see how much I can annoy you"

Percy sighs with a laugh choking him, "I like you Y/n"

"Yeah, you're cool, Jackson"

"Okay, that's just kinda creepy."

"Okay, that's too far but not buddy?"

[ryescapades]

mine all mine | kaiju no. 8

characters: narumi gen x gn!reader cw: a bit ooc maybe but overall just fluff a/n: from this req! lowkey reminds me of darling dearest lol 1k wc

it's been almost an hour, and narumi is peeved. extremely, remarkably and astronomically peeved.

the kaiju attacks this year have been increasing exponentially, and so is the number of officers being dispatched everyday for the subjugation.

as a former operations leader, the amount of knowledge you have about the monsters is close to an infinitesimal amount, as studying kaiju has always been a significant part in your life. though it was only a matter of time before you discovered that you also possess an affinity in field-work as well.

able to bring out an astoundingly high combat power from the suit without prior training, you were immediately sent to be recruited as a soldier in the first division. not to mention a lot of people considered you as someone who is quite easy on the eyes.

an eye candy... so to speak. in short, you have it all; beauty, brains and brawn.

narumi has never had his ego swell this much but with you? he's so fucking proud he almost went up the tokyo tower just to shout out how incredible you are to the entirety of japan.

much to his dismay though, even the general public could attest to the same thing, seeing as how lately they've been making every effort to separate the two of you by catching you post-mission, regardless of the destruction and gore around them. he knows that the country knows you're with him, but that still doesn't make it any less irritating (it's even worse that these fans of yours are not among his own).

and today is no different.

there is a rowdy group of reporters and fans alike crowding around you, asking this and that while you're trying your best to adhere to each one of their requests. narumi is sure none of those extras is aware of it, but there's that hint of discomfort tinging in your eyes. he can see it as clear as day. but then again, narumi always notices all the little things about you.

why wouldn't he? you're the apple of his eye, his lover, his muse. it's only right that he paints the absolute perfection that is you on the canvas of his mind.

sauntering over with light footsteps, narumi relishes the way the small horde of people parts for him as he approaches you at the center of the commotion. his lips curl upwards into a smirk then, eyeing the people who are still hungrily vying for your attention, though some of them are starting to look at him with wariness.

one or two microphones are being shoved in your face, enthusiastic voices filling the space around you as you let out a bashful chuckle. "thanks for coming to see me here, really but—" your breath catches in your throat when an arm sneaks around your waist from behind before it settles on the side of your hips.

snapping your head around, your heart picks up its pace when your eyes connected with a pair of rosy, blooming irises. "oh - gen, hi! what are you doing here?" you ask inquisitively, assuming he had already gone back to base to report.

his teeth catch on his bottom lip, slightly in a trance as he continues to gaze at you. your blinding smile oozes so much of that familiar adoration and narumi almost kissed you right then and there in front of these... NPCs.

your boyfriend tucks you close to his front, letting you lean your body against his chest. his heart steadily beats against your back, and he really hopes that you can hear it. he needs you to hear it, in fact.

call him sappy, but narumi wants you to know his heart beats for you. it is a euphony that he makes sure only you can decipher the meaning of, and one he knows can never be attuned to anybody else.

"waiting for you, duh— wha - hey! turn that flash off!" he complains at one of the closest in particular, blinking his eyes from the temporary blinding light before sending them a scowl.

deciding to let him interact with your 'admirers' too, you continue to entertain them with small talks, selfies, receiving gifts and the likes when suddenly the girl in front of you gasps in surprise and mild irritation, the phone she once held nearly tumbling out of her hands as her eyes are glued to something behind you.

confused, you turn to see what her deal is but all that meets your eyes is narumi raising his eyebrows in question, a goofy smile plastered on his handsome face. if you didn't know any better, you would've thought there was a tail wagging curiously behind him. you giggle, forehead creasing slightly. "why are you smiling like that?"

"nothing. why can't i just smile for no reason?" he pouts as his fingers gently rub at your waist, his expression exuding only that of complete innocence before you shake your head fondly and turn back to the crowd. unbeknownst to you, narumi doesn't bother taking down the middle finger he was holding up behind his back, directed towards the guys especially and hidden from most cameras.

additionally, he couldn't find it in himself to feel any shame or guilt for sticking his tongue out at every flashing lens there is. the glaring competition he's currently having with that random girl still proceeds, both not wanting to back down in order to win the biggest prize of all; your attention and recognition.

regardless, it is the compelling truth that your affection only belongs to him, and there is no way he, your very much amazing boyfriend, is going to lose to some nobodies.

narumi gen is no artist, nor is he any poet. but one thing he knows is that he is yours, just as much as you are his, and his alone.

taglist: @maruflix @pixelcafe-network @iamjellyfish @ouiouimochi @yueliie @justwinginglife @lumiambrose @minasfwoopyponytail @17020 @bgyuus @moon-cakiie

©🅁🅈🄴🅂🄲🄰🄿🄰🄳🄴🅂. do not steal, translate or repost my work anywhere else !

[vamphrrr]

%% tough love

in which the daughter of aphrodite is head over heels for the most ruthless warrior at camp, & all she can do is try to court her while simultaneously killing her.

— clarisse la rue x f!aphrodite!reader

warnings ; idiots in love, ooc clarisse?, pining on both sides, flirty & bold reader, flustered clarisse, tall & muscular clarisse / short reader (reader reaches her chest), fool clarisse (JUST SAY YES!!), bad flirting attempts (i’ve never flirted), a little bad since it’s my first oneshot srry guys

There she was, the most beautiful girl you had ever know. Tall, dark, strong and powerful in all her mighty glory. She was sparring with one of her brother’s, Lucas? you presumed. They’ve been at it for hours, Clarisse beating him almost every single time. But no matter how many times Lucas fell or almost got his head cut off, he would just not give up.

You needed him to leave already.

It was as if the gods heard your prayers, because one second Lucas had Clarisse cornered, and then the next she swung her spear with all her might. A woosh was heard, nearby leaves shaking and falling with how much strength she used. Her brother's weapon went flying, and so did he.

Oh gods, you thought, biting your lip to stop a giggle from escaping. I love women who could destroy me in a heartbeat.

You watched behind a tree as Lucas struggled to get back up, clearly dizzy from the hit he took. He wobbled a bit, and Clarisse realized he could seriously not stand up by himself. She leaned down, one arm on his waist while the other helped put his arm around her shoulder.

Lucas stood up successfully, and you were able to see that he slightly looked over at your direction for a moment. You gasped, quickly moving so that your face was out of sight. If he saw you, he didn’t make a big deal out of it, but oh, Clarisse sure did once he told her.

She immediately stood up straight, pushing her brother back down to the ground and whipping her head around. A thud followed by a groan was heard as she sped walked towards the tree you were hiding behind. Not knowing that she was getting closer, you twisted your body around, about to peek to where you thought she was. Although, that thought seemed to not go as planned.

“Ow!” you said, feeling your nose hit a solid wall. I don’t remember a wall being there.

A familiar huff was heard, causing you to stiffen. Looking up, you made eye contact with Clarisse who had her arms crossed, muscles bulging from the pressure. Sweat was still clinging on to her face, and you saw as a droplet of water ran down her neck.

She made dirt and sweat look beautiful.

“Oh, hey Clarisse!” you exclaimed, eyes turning pink, pupils dilated. “Fancy seeing you here!”

She raised an eyebrow, ears slightly burning when she saw your eyes change color. “Hm, I’m pretty sure you were stalking us. Unless… you were waiting to spar, princess?”

You smiled, twirling a strand of your hair around your manicured finger, watching as Clarisse got a little distracted with that move. Oh how you loved when she called you that.

“No,” you shook your head, leaning a little closer to her. “I just wanted to ask if you were free later today.”

Clarisse wasn’t surprised. Every week you would do the same thing: follow her around like a lovesick puppy, waiting secretly for her to finish whatever she was doing. Someone would notice you and tell her, teasing her about how she held the heart of an Aphrodite girl, to which she glared at. Then she’d turn around to see you standing there, looking like the prettiest flower in a field full of plain boring wheat. She’d walk to you, and as soon as you’d see her, your eyes would turn pink. Which was a very endearing thing that she’d be an idiot to not know what it meant.

“Like I’ve told you countless times,” she began. “I’m busy.”

Which was true. Unfortunately for you —and her—, your timing was gods awful. As the counselor of the Ares cabin, she was expected to lead the new and younger demigods on a weekly camp journey through the wild. That, plus the fact she was in charge of training clumsy kids, did not give her a lot of free time. And it seemed like you always had a knack for asking things at the wrong time.

You looked up at her through your eyelashes, pouting your lips a bit in what you hoped was a cute way. “Awe, I was really hoping to take you out on a date this time. You know, I heard the little lake by the strawberry fields is a really good place to make out.”

Clarisse gulped, leaning her shoulder against the tree, feeling her heart beat faster than normal. Gods, she could not believe you just said that.

These Aphrodite kids are a danger to society.

She cleared her throat lightly and composed herself. “Well that’s a real shame princess. I guess you’re gonna have to find out if that’s true with somebody else.”

Stupid, stupid, stupid. Don’t kiss anyone else.

You gave her a pretty smile, touching one of her forearms with your fingers, painted nails tracing her scars. “But I don’t want anyone else. I want you.”

Oh, I really hate you. Clarisse thought.

“A-and like I said,” she breathed out, cursing at herself for stuttering. “I can’t.”

She moved away from your touch, taking a big step back, hating for the first time that she was in charge of all her siblings. She’d get punished if she didn’t do her duties. But, would it really be that bad?

“Ah,” you let out, eyebrows furrowing a bit, immediately being replaced by your eyes brightening. “Well then, maybe next time!”

“I—” Clarisse started, not being able to finish her sentence because you swiftly turned around, walking away. She clenched her fists. If only you stayed for a little more while, she would’ve gave in to your date. Cursing at herself for being a good counselor and taking her duties seriously, she groaned loudly.

You heard her, practically smelling her regret. Smirking to yourself, you laughed, knowing the affect you had on her. Others might have given up, taking her constant “I’m busy” as a sign of rejection, but not you. You’re the daughter of Aphrodite, goddess of love. You know when someone wants you, you can sense it. And, well, every time you’re with Clarisse, the love and longing that she had for you was strong. You know she feels the same way. It’s just a shame that she’s always so busy.

Oh well, maybe next time.

[isawritesshit]

The Color Blue - Chapter 2

image taken from @ lovevivianne on pinterest

Synopsis: As the only daughter to the leader of the Kamo Clan, you were trained and protected to one day bring your father honor through your marriage to the heir of the Gojo Clan. However, your husband ended up being something that your family never prepared you for. As you come to navigate a new world of politics between the clans, your husband convinces you that there is nothing wrong with honoring yourself too. MDNI WITH THIS CHAPTER.

Warnings and Content: fem! reader, slightly ooc! (?) gojo (i feel like i'm not writing him as well as i thought i was lol) , mostly fluff with a hint of angst, smut/male masturbation (gojo fantasizes about fucking the reader, body worshipping, marking, fingrering, fem receiving! oral, taking reader’s virginity in mating press, etc.), mentions/anxieties of marriage consummation, themes of arranged/forced marriage/familial expectations, cursing, themes of mentally abused/anxious reader

Author's Note: Chapter 2 woo woo! Had a lot of fun writing this one. Please keep in mind that there is smut in the chapter so minors dni! I will add that reader's father in this series, along with other family members, are not canon and are created for the purpose of the story, as well as the beliefs/dramatization of the Kamo clan. If you have yet to read the prologue or chapter one, please do so!

Word Count: 7.3k

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Satoru folded his arms as he stood before your father, waiting for him to say something. Instead, the man held Satoru's gaze while sitting on the foyer's couch, not breaking it even when one of the household staff set a cup of steaming tea on the table before him and left.

Arao Kamo was a gruff man, and stupidly proud. His clan was the largest of the three major jujustu clans. Where Satoru and now you were the only Gojo members, the Kamos had dozens interwoven into their bloodline, and Arao oversaw them all with an iron fist. Just as Yaga had said, this was a family rooted in deep tradition, and Arao upheld it just as the other Kamos had done for centuries. Though he was past his prime as a sorcerer, wrinkles dotting his once handsome face just like the gray in his hair, he was widely respected across the jujustu community.

Satoru couldn't give two shits.

"Where is my daughter?" your father asked lowly, clearly tired of waiting. Waiting for you, Satoru realized.

"She's sleeping. She had a pretty bad fever this week, so I'm making her prioritize her rest. I was just about to make her breakfast when you arrived, actually," Satoru replied with equal calm, cocking his head and giving him a smirk. "Though, I'm assuming you're not here for breakfast."

"I came to see (Y/N)," your father grumbled, now taking the tea into his hands. "I messaged her this morning notifying her I would be here, but it seems she didn't see it. That girl can be so insolent sometimes..."

That set Satoru off a bit. No wonder you were always so focused on pleasing him if you had to cater to this prick. "Well, forgive me, sir, but like I said, she's asleep, so she wouldn't have been able to read your texts. Maybe next time give her a further notice. And, contrary to your definitely valued opinion, I find your daughter quite charming and very polite. But hey, what do I know, she's only been living with me for a month and a half," Satoru shrugged, firing at him with his usual attitude. He was peeved to even refer to this man as his father-in-law, so he avoided the thought as much as he could.

Satoru almost snickered when he saw a vein fire off in the Kamo leader's head as he gripped the ceramic cup so hard it almost cracked. What was even more fun was knowing that the man couldn't even tell Satoru to watch his tone. They were equal in position, but Satoru greatly outweighed him in power, even if your father was a retired special-grade.

Your father only released a breath, trying to calm himself before saying, "Right. Well then, since she's preoccupied, I'm sure you wouldn't mind telling me that you both have consummated your marriage?"

Satoru tried and failed to hide the disgust on his face. Why would he need to know that? You being his daughter or no, he had no right to know what went on in your marital bed. Satoru decided in that moment that he wanted your father out of this house before he made him leave. "Oh, yeah, definitely. Don't know why that's any of your business, but of course we have," Satoru lied, though the smug grin on his face made it look like he was telling the truth.

"Well then, I congratulate you both," your father said, now standing. "I expect good news in the coming weeks. I suppose I'll be taking my leave now."

"Oh, please do," Satoru replied wittily, moving a little too quickly to open the front door for him. "I need to get back to breakfast before my poor dear wife starves."

Arao gave Satoru a sneer before walking out the door. "Oh, and the lawn care guy should be outside if you need help getting down the stairs!" Satoru shouted as he watch the man leave, closing the door and laughing to himself.

He stood at the door for a moment, sighing and running a hand through his hair, all while trying to ponder the reason why your father felt the need to show up in the first place. Suddenly, Satoru felt a little guilty for not trying to move up the marriage date himself, now getting a more vivid image of what you probably had to deal with.

Speaking of you, he needed to get back to cooking. He turned to walk back up the stairs, but you were already standing at the top, looking down at him. He smiled at the sight of you, your usual silk robe covering your nightgown as you folded your hands in front of you. It seemed like you had just washed up, too. Satoru jogged up the steps to greet you.

"Satoru-" you started, a small pout on your face.

"Don't worry, (Y/N), I took care of it," Satoru interrupted, putting his hands on your shoulders to usher you back to the kitchen. "By the way, your father is a lovely individual."

"I know it was him you were talking to. I just saw his texts and rushed down to greet him, but you got there before me," you explained. "I was listening to your conversation, but I should have showed my face. Forgive me?"

"That's perfectly okay. You have nothing to be sorry for. You don't have to talk to him if you don't want to," Satoru reconciled. "To be honest, I was already ticked that he just invited himself over."

"Well, he is my father. He should be able to see me when he wants to," you replied. Satoru looked at you and furrowed his brow as the two of you walked through the doors and towards the kitchen.

"(Y/N), that shouldn't mean anything. You're his daughter, sure, but you're also an adult and someone that's capable of making their own decisions, so you have a right to refuse him, especially in the state that you're in. Not to mention, you should be in bed," Satoru argued. Did you really stop resting to go downstairs and see him? How much of a hold did this man still have on you?

"But as your wife and the matron of the house, I should be the first to greet guests-"

Satoru only snickered and shook his head. "(Y/N), just because that was something your father taught you doesn't mean you have to do that. You realize how ridiculous that statement sounds?"

He suddenly regretted his words when you gave him a worried look. "But, that's my responsibility-"

“But it doesn’t have to be!” Satoru interjected before you could say anymore. He sighed before continuing. “Look, I didn’t mean to raise my voice. What I mean is that… you’re recovering from an illness, and we both know you need rest. So, since something like this came up and because I’m the one taking care of you, I went to go answer the door because you’re still in bed. I was happy to do it, (Y/N)…”

After a few seconds, he added, “I understand what you think, and please don’t take this like I’m trying mansplain something to you or what not… but the whole husband-wife relationship dynamic that I think you have in mind… it’s not… healthy, so to speak. At least, I don’t think it is. You don't always have to break yourself down trying to handle so many things. The same goes for me too. So we help each other, right? You don’t even have to think of it in a married way either. Just see it like I’m doing you a favor, yeah?”

"Still... he won't be happy with me," you murmured as the two of you walked the rest of the way to the kitchen in silence. The ingredients still sat on the counter, the batter ready but unused. Satoru decided to get started on that right away while you watched from the entryway.

Your silence was indication of your contemplation, as if pondering his words against memories, pitting them against one another in your head.

"Satoru?"

"Mhm?"

"Why did you lie...?" The stove reached a crescendo of sizzles as Satoru poured the batter onto the pan, his back turned to you.

"Because he has no right knowing about private stuff like that," he replied, his shoulders moving slightly under his t-shirt as he fiddled the batter with the spatula. "And because I knew he would be furious with you. I knew he would find a way to blame it on you... as if it was your fault that I decided not to force myself on you because you were obviously nervous and scared and we had practically just met. I would never do something like that unless you wanted me to."

"But I do."

"Do you? Or do you want to because you know it's what your family expects of you?"

A beat. "I don't know."

Satoru moved the done pancakes onto a paper plate and poured more batter on the pan. "(Y/N), what do you want us to be?"

"You're my husband-"

"No, just... putting all that aside for a minute. Disregard what I want, what your family wants, what jujustu society wants... what do you want us to be, as two human beings?"

You didn't answer his question. In fact, you didn't say anything until he had used up all of the batter and made a semi-okay stack of blueberry pancakes for the both of you. Maybe you have never been asked something like this before. After all, your whole life you were told to be dedicated to your father and your family name, and then eventually to him. Your opinions thus didn't ever matter in any situation, so no one probably bothered asking. Did you even know then what it was like to want something? To want to have a goal or a sense of identity that was truly your own?

It wasn't until he opened the silverware drawer to grab forks that you spoke up.

"A friend. I want us to be friends."

Satoru smiled, shutting the drawer before handing you your plate. "You got it, pretty girl."

___________________________________________________________

"So what do you like to do for fun?" Satoru asked, observing you as he sat backwards on one of the many chairs of the library.

"Read," you replied, eyes still stationed on the book in front of you.

"Yeah. I gathered," Satoru grumbled. Whatever you were reading, you seemed really immersed, pages in your face and curled up all nice and comfy on the couch. He reached forward, barely able to put the tip of his finger on the top of the cover to pull it down a little and look at you. "What else?"

"Have we not had this discussion before?" You moved the book back up, a placid expression on your face.

"Yeah, but there's a difference between hobbies and things you do for fun..."

"Okay then. I do my hobbies for fun."

Satoru sighed. "So you're telling me you've never like... gone to the movies? An amusement park? Maybe a club or something?"

He barely saw you shake your head as you said, "Aside from going to see a movie once or twice, I've never done any of those. There are more ways to spend my time that do not involve spending money or wearing indecent clothing around indecent people."

Satoru chuckled at your response. You did seem like the type of person to frown upon things like parties and alcohol. "Hmph. Now that has me thinking... what is the most rebellious thing you've ever done as a teenager?"

You set your book down at his question, gently marking the page as you hummed. "I was able to procure a romance novel when I was 16..." you murmured.

Satoru only raised an eyebrow, shifting in his seat. "And? What did you do with it?"

"I read it of course," you replied matter-of-factly.

"That's... it? What, was it like hardcore porn or something?"

"Goodness no! It was... just a romance novel..." You picked up your book again, clearly flustered.

Satoru huffed a laugh, moving his chair around to sit on it normally to look at you as you read. "Well then, what was so bad about it?"

"Well, the fact that it was a romance novel," you shrugged.

That made Satoru pause for a moment, considering what your words were implying. "So... you weren't allowed to read romance novels? That seems kinda harsh... Is that why you read so much non-fiction type stuff?"

"To begin, I do read fiction, just not a lot of fiction prose. And secondly, yes, I was not allowed to," you explained. "My father believed reading stories of that nature would give me fanciful ideas to go out and try to experience romance and tamper my chastity before my marriage."

That stunned Satoru to silence for a moment. "Wow. Not gonna lie, your dad's a dick."

Your brow furrowed as you looked at him from over your book. "Satoru, that's rude."

"What? He's not in the room with us. And besides, it's not like you were shooting heroin up your arm and getting pregnant at 16 because you read a romance book," he argued, crossing his arms over his jacket. "What was it even about anyway?"

You sighed, setting down your book again. "I don't really remember. Something like... a girl running away from her kingdom to escape marriage, and she somehow ends up falling for the man she was supposed to marry anyway." You leaned back against the couch, setting your book on the table nearby. "I never read it again. I was too afraid someone would find it and tell my father."

"What was the book called?"

"I don't... I don't remember," you muttered, looking down in your lap.

"Did you like it?"

You only shook my head with a smile. "You ask a lot of questions, Satoru."

He only smirked and raised his arms up in a 'guilty as charged' motion. "Well, forgive me for just trying to know more about something that you obviously enjoyed. But seriously? Your dad wouldn't let you read something like that?"

"N-no..." Your eyes wandered before landing on the clock on the other side of the room, standing when you realized what time it was. "I should start on lunch-"

"Ah, ah, ah," Satoru ticked, standing up to stop you. "We're going out for lunch."

"We are?" you asked, looking up at him confused. "Did I forget?"

"Nope, I just decided," Satoru chirped, now putting a hand on the small of your back as he led you out of the library. "We're gonna go shopping, and then we're going out to lunch."

"But we have food here... and what do we need to shop for?" you inquired, a puzzled look on your face. "I had just run to the market this past weekend..."

"Well, dontcha think it's kinda odd that we're married yet we haven't really gone out to do something fun together? I think it'll be nice. And you can't shop for books and return with an empty stomach," he replied, patting his own stomach for emphasis. "You can get any romance book you desire, all on me. It doesn't even have to be a romance book, either! I can tell you've been reading those same poetry collections over and over so you must want some new ones..."

You not saying anything in response was a clear indicator of your hesitation, making Satoru look at you for a moment. You were biting the inside of your cheek, eyes trained down, second guessing. "Hey, if you don't want to, we won't go," he said, voice softening. "We can make lunch here and find something else to do later, if that's what you'd rather do..."

"I... I'm just..." you started.

"What's on your mind, pretty girl?"

You looked sheepishly off to the side, now stopping in the center of the private living room in both you and Satoru's shared part of the estate. "It's just... my father visited here less than a week ago trying to see me, and I didn't even greet him. And now... now what you're proposing is... something he most definitely wouldn't...uhm..."

Admittedly, the first thing Satoru felt was frustration. How much of your life did your father dictate before he married you? Too much, Satoru knew now. Too much to the point where you're thinking of his approval long after you were grown and married. Too much to the point where your father could have demanded an answer to the same question he asked Satoru a few days ago, and you would've answered him truthfully despite the fact that you knew you would suffer. What more could this man want from you besides your total devotion?

However, that frustration melted to empathy and heartache when looking at your face. Now, because of your consideration of rejecting his offer, you looked guilty. He felt the urge to reach out and hug you; to hold your head to his chest and tell you it was okay, and that he understood; to let you know that he didn't take any offense to what your concerns were or what you were feeling. After all...

He can't blame you for knowing any different.

"(Y/N), I understand that you may feel that way but... I'll tell you the same thing that I told you before: I'm not your father. I don't plan on being like him, either. You can do whatever you want when you're here. So, if you want to stay here and not go get anything, that's fine. But, I want you to know that I would be very happy to take you to go get a few books and some food, and I think you'll be too. It's your decision."

You swallowed, picking at the skin of your fingers, likely a nervous habit. Your eyes darted to a few different spots: the carpet, his socks, the wooden wall, the window. You tried to calm your breaths, your chest rising and falling, rising and falling...

"Maybe... maybe one new thing on my bookshelf... wouldn't hurt?"

___________________________________________________________

One new book turned into two, two into three, and three into ten. Of course, Satoru got a few for himself too. He wasn't a big reader, but he figured he'd try a few to keep him occupied when traveling.

Traveling was part of the reason he took you out today. You both already knew that he had been assigned an upcoming mission for a while now, one that was going to keep him away for about a week. He wanted to do something for you before he left, and he couldn't have thought of anything more perfect.

After your shopping, the two of you went to a little café tucked between the stores of a nearby shopping center. You both talked for roughly two hours, enjoying baked sandwiches and coffee and muffins. It was the first time he had ever seen you talk so openly with him, like he was having a conversation with any of his other friends or colleagues. But it was so... different at the same time? You had this grace to the way you spoke, which he had already noticed, but what was new was your cute mannerisms: the way your eyes looked upward when you tried to think of something, or the way you smiled nervously when you suddenly forgot what the two of you had been talking about...

And if that wasn't icing on the cake, there was what he was now referring to in his head as The Miracle. A little blonde girl, no more than five, had been running around the café with her other sister, friend, whoever, for most of the time the two of you had been there. However, amidst trying to run away from the other girl she was playing with, the little blonde had run into the chair you were sitting in, causing her to fall over. Satoru choked on a laugh while you just bent over in your seat to help the girl up.

However, when you helped the girl to her feet, a hand on her little wrist, the kid just stared at you, starstruck. When you asked if she was alright, the girl only answered with a dazed, You look like a princess.

And what he witnessed was the best part of his day. You laughed. Loudly. Eyes crinkled as your cheeks expanded from a wide smile. You thanked the little girl, told her she looked like one too, before the kid ran back over to her parents.

He had laughed too, of course. Usually kids give him weird stares, but seeing it happen to someone else was funny for a change. Satoru couldn't have agreed more with the kid, though. You did look like a princess, even if you were wearing just a typical floral dress, and he had the fight the urge to rub it in the kid's face. She's my princess that I get to see everyday because she's my wife, so eat it.

That laugh was a broken record in his head the entire drive home, replaying over and over. It was so... unlike you, in a sense. You were so timid, yet your laugh had come out loud and roaring up from the pit of your stomach like a long awaited eruption. What he wouldn't give to hear that again...

And that's what led him to your bedroom. The two of you just got back 30 minutes ago and he was craving your presence again already. He stood in your already open doorway, leaning against it with his sunglasses slung low on his nose as he watched you put your new books on your bookshelf. You even rearranged some of the ones already on there to make a different section for your three new romance novels.

You seemed content, fulfilled. Satoru considered that a mission accomplished.

He spoke up when you were done. "Tired of me yet, or do you want to find something else to do?"

You turned to face him from where you were sitting on the floor before standing and straightening out the skirt of your dress. There was something... extremely attractive about your modesty, your adorable and considerate manners. He knew they must have been drilled into you since childhood, but the way you did it- the little bounce when you stood, the slight shift of your weight from one foot to another, your wide eyes looking at him- that was all you. He loved it.

"Uhm... if you don't mind me asking, Satoru..." you began, one of your hands picking at your fingers- a nervous habit, he now knew. "Why did we go out today... or why did you take me out? I don't think I did anything to... necessarily deserve this-"

"Let me stop you right there," he interrupted, a small chuckle as he took his glasses off and placed them on the collar of his button-up shirt. "You don't need to do anything to deserve something like this. I just wanted to hang out, have fun, take your mind off of things that might be worrying you. After all, you're the one that said you wanted to be friends, am I right?"

"Yes, but... I didn't know that that would entail shopping sprees..." you replied, a mix of bashfulness and thankfulness crossing your features.

"Well, it does when you're friends with me. And don't forget, my money's all yours anyway, so really then you don't even need me to take you out to splurge. If you end up hating me enough, you could buy your own house on the other side of the world and never see my face again," he shrugged, smirking a little.

That smirk grew when your face changed from bashful to worried. "Why would I do that? And... and how do I have access to any of that?" you exclaimed.

Satoru stepped off the doorway, making his way over to you. "Well, you're legally my wife, so my money is also yours. And as for hating me, while I will do everything in my power from getting you to do so, I know I can be a lot for people to try and handle. So if you end up disliking me, that's totally understandable."

You only looked up at him anxiously. "I think it would be rather crude of me to dislike you after everything you've done for me..."

"I guess you're right, but you're still allowed to from time to time. I'd rather you express yourself than cover it up," Satoru replied with a smile, crossing his arms over his chest. "So then, based off of that logic, how do you feel about your father?"

You opened your mouth, but then shut it, looking away. "I can understand why you feel loyalty to him and your family, but from what I can gather, he treated you terribly. And while I don't clearly know everything, I can tell. Really, I can. Were you happy to let him... indoctrinate you like that?" he asked, eyes soothing into something more comforting.

"I..." you started, as if trying to find the words. Then your breaths rose and fell slightly faster, your bottom lip began quivering. Satoru's eyebrows raised as he took note of what was going to happen-

His arms shot forward to steady you as your body seemed to cave in a little, a small no cracking from your throat before the tears started. His heart broke to pieces.

"Hey, hey, hey... shh, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked you something like that without warning you..." he whispered, ushering you to sit on the bed while he stood in front of you. "Hey, talk to me. You can talk to me..." Satoru raised his hands, one placing itself on your shoulder, the other wiping the tears that trickled down your face.

Through your sobs and shaky breaths you were able to get out, "Scared... I was always... so scared and frightened by... by the thought of what... w-what he would do... if... if I... but I had no choice-"

"Yeah... and you shouldn't have to feel that way around your own father. What he was teaching you, and how he treated you, was wrong," he consoled, brushing more tears and stray strands of hair away from your face. Snot began to drip from your nose. "Shit, uh... here."

You grimaced as he held up his forearm for you to blow into his sleeve. You just pouted and shook your head.

Satoru chuckled lowly. "C'mon, it's fine. I can take it off and wash it later. Unless, you want me to take it off now?" he added with a wink and wiggled eyebrows shot in your direction.

That only caused your face to redden a little, giving him a sniffle as you moved you head forward and used his shirt as a tissue. "Don't be afraid to blow. I got another sleeve too," he quipped, smiling weakly when you eventually did as he adjusted more of your hair behind your ear.

"(Y/N)..." Satoru moved to sit next to you on the bed. "I'm not going to make you tell me everything about yourself. What you want to share is up to you. But, I'll promise that you'll never have to be afraid of me... okay?"

You nodded once, your breaths staggering as you forced yourself to get calm.

"And... can you look at me please?" he whispered, gently cupping one side of your face to turn your attention to him. "You can come to me for anything. Even when I'm not here, you have my number."

You only sighed. "I'm sorry..."

"Sorry? For what?" Satoru retracted his hand from your face.

"For... for that. For feeling like you... for having to... coddle me like this," you muttered. "It's... deeply unfair to you..."

"It's really not..." he tittered. For a moment, he considered telling you just how much he had been wanting, waiting for a moment like this so he could show how much he cared for you. He wanted to tell you that he would rip his whole shirt to scraps for you to blow your nose in to prove it. "Emotions... aren't meant to be something transactional between people. Trust me, I know. If you want me to go to you for something, I gladly will, but right now it's not about me..."

"Are you sure?" you voice cracked, brows furrowing.

"Sure that's it not about me? Well, perhaps not everything can be. But I guess it's okay to give away my spotlight once in a while," he sighed with his usual sarcasm, causing you to giggle a little.

"I meant... are you sure that... that you'd be okay if I... talked to you about... anything?" you questioned again, trying to find your words.

"Absolutely, 's what I'm here for," Satoru assured. "And each time I'll remind you that you're a wonderful, talented, kind, and good-looking individual," he added, giving a little boop on the tip of your nose before continuing with a flare in his voice. "And that-" that I love you "-that, well, I think everything is going to turn out just fine. After all, I'm the strongest sorcerer alive. I can handle anything you throw at me."

You smiled softly, looking down in your lap, your eyes caught between melancholy and meditative. "I suppose you're right about that..."

"Oh, I know, pretty girl. A little therapy session is nothing compared to a special grade curse," he sniggered. "But that doesn't mean I take it more lightly."

You only hummed in response. Satoru just continued to look at you as you stared forward into the carpet, probably thinking about something to say. Even after you had just finished crying, you looked so lovely. Hell, he could never catch you at a time when you weren't that. Or maybe he just saw you that way no matter what.

When you looked back to him, he prepared himself to listen. Instead, all you said was, "Have you packed a bag for your mission?"

He just laughed. "Yeah, I should probably get on that..."

"I'll... probably just get ready for bed early, then," you stammered. "And... uhm..." You turned to him, breathing in as you brought an arm close to his side, making a motion as if you were going to wrap it around him, before ultimately deciding to rest it on his elbow. "Thank you..."

Satoru gave you a knowing smile. He could tell what you were about to do, but chose to not say anything about it. What was important was that he at least noticed. "Anytime..." With that, he opted to leave you alone while he returned to his room.

He could see you were trying. He knew you were, and he knew it was hard. Your whole life, you had been terrified of messing anything up. Hearing you say that set off something deep in him.

As he packed, he realized he had been stupid, so idiotically fucking stupid. He had the power this whole time, for years, to take you to be with him earlier, yet he never acted on it. And those years that he had figured it was best to keep his distance from out of fear of what you would think of him were years you had spent in literal fear of your father and family. Even if he technically would have had to strike an agreement with your father for an earlier marriage date and there was no guarantee that he would agree to it, he could have at least tried.

Someday, Satoru knew he would have to apologize for it.

___________________________________________________________

Satoru got up to leave at 4:00am for his morning flight to Osaka. Once his bags were securely in the trunk, he got in the backseat as his driver took off.

He immediately noticed the container already in the middle seat, a sticky-note on it with your perfect cursive written in blue pen:

Couldn't fall asleep last night, so I made these for you.

- (Y/N)

Satoru grinned, lifting off the cover to be greeted by the smell of fresh, mouthwatering butter cookies. As expected, they tasted just as good too.

He took out his phone, taking a quick selfie with one of the cookies in his mouth, and sending it you with his thanks.

For good measure, he also sent you Suguru's number, saying that if your father came back or if you needed anything that he couldn't get there right away for, you could call Suguru and he would be able to stop over. You texted him back in the middle of his flight, glad that he liked the cookies and letting him know you would call Suguru if the need arises.

A few hours later, you sent him a picture of yourself smiling in the garden, hand marking a page in one of your new romance novels as you sat on your usual bench between the cherry trees.

Satoru made it his lockscreen in a heartbeat.

___________________________________________________________

This mission was by far the hardest he had ever had, and not because of the curses themselves.

Normally, Satoru would repeat the same thing throughout a mission week: wake up, go investigate the site of a supposed curse, find it easily, beat it with no sweat, spend the rest of his day sightseeing and buying food to splurge on back at his hotel suite, and then pass out.

However, this was the first mission he had ever spent away from you, which made the seven days ahead feel like a year. As much as he wanted to to finish all the curses off and go home, he knew that he had to take it easy and let his cursed energy replenish each day for a possible worst case scenario. Not to mention, the longer he was out, the more he was likely to get paid extra if it made it seem like he was actually trying.

Needless to say, Satoru did text you a few times throughout the day to check on you, seeing what you were up to and how you were entertaining yourself. You both would occasionally send photos back and forth. Satoru would send you a selfie of himself with a thumbs up and a defeated curse, and you would reply with whatever you were doing at the moment.

Because of your photo exchanges, he now had a small album in his phone titled Wifey (^ω^). His favorite so far was actually a video you sent of yourself playing the grand piano in one of the few estate galleries. He would play it over and over before bed, not to listen to the Debussy piece (thought you did a marvelous job playing it), but to watch you as your fingers floated across the keys with a pleasant, satisfied smile on your face.

He was imagining that face now as he was laying in bed, waiting for exhaustion to overtake him. He wished he could reach into his phone screen, brush the curve of your lips with his fingertips, trace along your eyelashes with his thumbs, and place kiss after kiss on your forehead until he got that smile of yours to come out.

Better yet, Satoru wished you were right here next to him.

He wished he could pull you close to him. He already knew your body would fit perfectly against his. Your head would rest against the crook of his shoulder as he wrapped his arms around your waist. He wouldn't leave any inch of your face untouched by kisses, especially those delicate lips, the same lips he had to try his best not to stare at when you spoke, but would catch sneaky glimpses of...

They always looked so soft, and he knew they would feel that way against his own. He thought about what it would be like to kiss you for the first time, how shy and nervous you would be, but that is what would make it so much more enjoyable. He would guide you through it, one hand tangled gently in your hair while the other squeezed your waist closer to him.

And the two of you would lay there, the only sounds being the ones you exchanged between one another and the slight rustling of the sheets. Maybe if he got far enough, he would test the waters a little, barely teasing your lips with his tongue as his hands would start roaming against the silky fabric of that lavender nightgown he thought and a little too often, and then-

Satoru groaned, now staring up at the ceiling. He ran his hands over his face once, twice. He tried to think of anyone or anything else...

Nope. His cock was still hard in his boxers.

"Fuck," he seethed, pulling down his waistband. He was painfully hard. And all because he thought about kissing you-

He immediately drew his hands away, letting the waistband go with a snap. No, he shouldn't. He shouldn't. Even if you were married to him, he told you he would be your friend. Nothing more, nothing less... unless you wanted to.

And frankly, Satoru couldn't even tell if you wanted him, not that he would demand or expect you to, of course. He never wanted to come off as the guy that felt they deserved your affections just because he was nice to you. He just... wanted to express his love and attraction as platonically as possible.

Even if that meant going through the rest of your lives remaining this way: living in the same house, sharing the same income, spoiling one another, going to each other for anything and everything and providing a shoulder to cry on...

God, the lines felt blurry, even if they were straightforward: married by status, friends by relationship. He'll keep it that way, and he'd never beat his dick to any of his friends.

Granted... he's never been attracted to any of his friends the way he's been attracted to you. He's never been attracted to anyone the way he's attracted to you.

To him, you were so much more than a body, a hookup for whenever he wanted to get laid and that he could discard when he was finished. He didn't want a friends-with-benefits situation either. He wanted all of you.

Satoru turned over with a sigh, burying his face in the pillow as he cursed himself and his stupidly horny brain, which was something he usually didn't mind. But when it's now starting to think about you in this context...

The reason it probably felt so wrong was because you were so innocent. Hell, you blushed and shied away from the prospect of him with just his shirt off. And he understood what the jujustu community expected, what you expected: for the two of you to produce an heir. But he couldn't care less. To hell with the Gojo bloodline if it meant he was going to have to defile you to appease someone else.

But then again, there's no saying that you didn't want him either...

Fuck. And it's not like he couldn't see the effect he had on you. The way you would smile and flush nervously whenever he teased you, whenever he called you pretty girl. He loved calling you that, almost as much as he liked calling you by your name. (Y/N).

"Fuck... (Y/N)." Satoru turned over and reached his hand into his boxers. He was caving, but just for tonight. Just for tonight, to get the edge off.

He raised his hand briefly to spit in it before bringing his hand back down and hissing at the amount of pre that was already leaking. With a shaky groan, he wrapped his palm around the tip and dragged down slowly.

What if this was your hand instead of his. You would be so shy, at least, maybe at first, before you got comfortable. He would coax you through it, telling you how good you were doing and praising you from how good your perfect hands felt. He'd show you everything. Where he was sensitive, what movements and actions felt the best...

Oh, but what about you.

If you were any other girl, he would have taken your outfits as you trying to entice him with your gorgeous curves. He would've fell for it, dragged you to his room, and ripped those cute dresses and tights to shreds in order to admire those curves properly before he fucked your brains out.

But he could never do that to you, not unless that's what you wanted. He was prepared to do anything for you, of course, but with what he felt for you, what he yearned to do was to make love to you.

He wanted to make love to you gently, slowly, show you exactly what he was feeling in the most physical way possible. He needed to protect you, make sure nothing would ever hurt you or cause you any discomfort.

He would get all that tempting skin of yours on display for him and put his lips all over it, worshipping you, listening to all those cute noises you would make. He'd run his tongue over your breasts, sucking on them and marking them as his own, before moving down and down-

His hands would push your succulent thighs up to your chest to give him a full view of your sweet cunt, just before he ate you like the tasty little dessert you were. He'd prep you with his mouth and fingers, make you cream a few times to get you all pliant for him-

And that's when he would descend on you, working you through the pain with sensual words and even more sensual touches. He'd get you to take as much as you could, as much as you wanted, because he would be all yours. You would finally belong to each other.

He would be assured of that with each moan and whimper he drew from your throat as he worked you to orgasm, crying out his name over and over- Satoru, Satoru, Satoru- until...

Satoru spilled his cum into his hand with a low mewl of your name. His breaths slowed, one after the other, as the haze of his orgasm, the hardest orgasm he'd had in a while, faded to a quiet thrum in his veins.

He shouldn't have done that. If you had found out about this, he knew you'd probably be disgusted with him.

Or just maybe... maybe you'd feel the same. Somehow.

Satoru was hard again.

___________________________________________________________

tags: @leonora13x @cole-silas @feeiry @mysuperrainbow @tw0fvced @emptybrain01 @xixiwang @drilled-brain @lvieee @xxkoyukixx @we-loveebony @sereniteav @ilovecoyotepeterson10 @baby--vera @jebemticeluporodicu @louannfox

[melrodrigo]

A little scorpion goes a long way - W.A.

Wednesday Addams x Fem!Reader

Summary: You bring back an old friend.

Warnings: ooc wednesday, R being a simp

Word Count: 2k+

A/N: I’m bored, here’s a little Wednesday oneshot like promised!

Learning at Nevermore Academy had its perks and downsides, but one of your favorite things about the school was how little they cared about students’s powers.

You had no face? You’re just another student at Nevermore. You’re a freak emo girl? Doesn’t matter. You could revive things from the dead? Who cares?

You; were apart of the latter group. It’s not that you were so powerful to the point you could bring actual human beings to life, but enough to save a dying plant or two. Only, anytime you did it, there would always be ass-kicking consequences.

You’d always have a terrible headache and a killer cold after. Skin all colorless, resembling the look of a character from a Tim Burton movie.

When you had first met your now girlfriend of 11 months Wednesday Addams, she had shared a heartfelt story about her pet scorpion, Nero, and how he had gotten killed by some idiot normie kids.

It was heartbreaking. You swore then and there that as soon as you got the chance you’d try and find the scorpion and bring it back to life.

It also just so happened that yours and Wednesday’s one year anniversary was coming up, pegging the perfect opportunity for such a gift.

It was really hard to try and discreetly ask Wednesday where she had buried her pet scorpion without sounding suspicious.

So you didn’t.

Instead, you called up her father. It wasn’t any less scary, since he was still an Addams, and the father of your girlfriend, but at least you knew he was a bit softer than the rest of the family.

“Hellomr.addamscouldipleaseaskyouifyoyreawarewherewednesdayburiedherpetscorpionforagift?” You stumbled out, completely unintelligible.

“Hello? Who is this?” Came his booming voice from the other side of the phone.

A long paused sounded, you trying to calm down and wipe your sweaty palms against Wednesday’s sheets.

“Hey Mr.Addams, it’s YN. Would you happen to know where Wednesday buried her pet scorpion all those years ago? I need it for a gift im making her.” You said, as slowly as you could, but it still came out as a bit of a ramble.

He barked out a laugh, and your face flushed bright red. You thanked the lords that you decided to do this on the phone instead of in real life.

“Of course darling, it’s right in our backyard. Would you like me to send it to you? Me and Morticia need an idea for date night anyway. I’m sure she’ll be thrilled with grave digging!”

You let out a relieved sigh and a slight chuckle, shaking your head at the Addams Family antics.

“Yes, that would be amazing, thank you Mr. Addams.” You breathe in relief.

“Please, call me Gomez.”

There was a pause of uncertainty on your end before answering, “Of course….Mr.Gomez.”

A sound uncanny to a door swinging open had you turning around hurriedly, and hanging up before Mr. Gomez could even utter another word.

Wednesday stood there, looking unbothered; eyes half lidded until they locked with yours.

“What’s wrong with you? Why do you look like that?” She asked, eyes narrowed. You smiled a little at her tone, because it wasn’t one of annoyance, but rather of worry. Maybe you were turning her a bit soft after all.

You smile shyly, striding up to Wednesday but stopping just short in front of her, giving her time to pull away if she wanted.

When she didn’t, and in fact, leaned a little closer; you closed the distance and gave her a peck on the cheek.

“I’m amazing.” You breathed against her cheek, lips moving toward her neck.

She titled it up a bit, giving you more access to wander around as you please. Rigid hands found your waist, and she squeezed them slightly.

You pull away grinning.

“Oh no, you’re not getting it yet. Plus, tomorrow’s our anniversary, don’t you want it to be extra romantic?” You teased.

She let out a huff and crossed her arms, clearly displeased.

“I dont see what difference one day has.” She mumbled under her breath, still staring you down.

“As romantic as that is, I have to go.” You tell her, squeezing her finger once. All she does is give you a curt nod and returns to her desk.

-

A thing you learned later that day was that Gomez Addams was a man of his word. Not even a couple hours later, a package had arrived for you.

Inside the little shoe box was a photo of the couple grave digging, smiling wider than you’ve ever seen them; and the corpse of a certain infamous scorpion.

“Nero! Ha!“ You exclaimed, jumping up and down in excitement. You inspected the little scorpion, it was tiny enough; should be no sweat to bring it back.

You were extremely wrong.

Considering the thing was dead for almost 10 years; it took an absurd amount of energy out of you.

God if you thought bringing plants back to life was hard, this thing was something you’ve never seen before. Strong and vicious, shooting a sharp pain through you as you connected the back of the scorpion to the palm of your hand.

At one point you seriously thought you were going to pass out. Sweat formed at your face and your vision was starting to get a little blurry.

And to add salt to the wound, the moment the scorpion was brought back, it decided to jump the person who had so graciously brought it back to life.

Leaving multiple scars on the side of your neck, before you could wrestle it away from you and into the pet box you had bought the week before.

Holy shit. I need a rest.

With your vision blurred and head pounding a million miles per second, you collapsed onto the bed, letting the world encompass you in a dark black haze.

-

You’re awaken the next day by an uninterested looking Wednesday, (that might just be how she always looks) hovering over you in the bed. You roll over in the bed to get a better view of her.

“Oh hey, Wends.” You greeted, trying to get up and talk to the girl properly, but letting out a groan as you clutched the side of your stomach in pain.

You pulled the sheets down to check your side, looking for the cause of your pain. What greeted you was a huge dark blue bruise that spread from the top of your rib cage to your waist.

“Huh. That’s weird.” You mumble.

You didn’t notice Wednesday’s eyes widening at the sight, since you were a bit busy poking at the wound.

She quickly slapped your hand away, and pushed you back down into the bed. Silencing you with a press of her pointer finger on your lips.

“Don’t move.”

You don’t think you’ve ever seen Wednesday move so quick, even back when she was looking for the hyde all those months ago. You stared at her in awe as she rummaged through your belongings, and pulled out a first aid kit.

Nevermore had employed one in every students dorm, seeing as to there were plenty of mini medical emergencies that would occur on a daily basis.

“Thing. Go get my Magical Beings 101 textbook. It’s located on my desk.”

Thing quickly hurried off, no doubt due to the harsh tone Wednesday used.

“I’m fine, Wends. Really. I’ll be up and running in a couple days.” You said as you reached over, trying to stroke her hand.

Surprisingly, she didn’t pull away, but instead gripped it tighter. She was silent for a moment, no sound except for your heavy breathing.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t notice? I know you used your powers YN. What I can’t seem to figure out is what for. Why are you so ill?” She asked, eyebrows furrowed.

And if you thought your heart couldn’t get any bigger, you were wrong. The way Wednesday was looking at you, all worried glances and intense eyes, you think you could pass away right then and there.

She cared.

As you tried to get up, ignoring the way Wednesday surged forward to stop you, quickly pushing you back into the bed. You didn’t put up much of a fight.

“This is gonna suck, and I wanted to save it for a more romantic setting, but I don’t think I’m leaving bed today.” You stated, while Wednesday was still eyeing you like you would get up again.

“Could you pass me the box under my desk Wends? But you have to promise to close your eyes.” You murmur, bat your eyes at her.

At that Wednesday rolled her eyes, and you were a little relieved to see a familiar Wednesday expression.

“And why is that?” She inquired.

Um.

“My brain is too meshed to come up with an excuse. It’s for our anniversary, but please don’t look, I wanna see your reaction.” You admitted, fingers playing with the hem of your shirt.

With a huff, Wednesday moved to your desk and closed her eyes, which took a while for her to actually find the box and bring it out.

“Over here.” You say, in case your voice would help her sense of direction better.

“I’m dating an imbecile who thinks I’m an imbecile.” Wednesday mutters under her breath, not aware that you had heard.

Wednesday walks over and stops in front of you, as you pat the surface on the bed next to you.

She gets the hint, and after some reluctance sits down and waits peacefully.

It’s a little domestic, and your heart starts beating faster.

You take the box from her hands and try your best to cover the clear part, then look over to Wednesday.

“Okay, you can open them now.” You say.

Wednesday’s eyes are flicked open in an instant, her peaceful face turning back into her usual resting glare.

She squints at the box, and tilts her head. You push it forward on the bed a little, gesturing for her to open the lid.

She does, and when she peers inside, her eyes widen. She dips her hand in the box and whispers, “Nero, flip.”

When the scorpion walks up to her and does a little turn of it’s body, you guess it could be called a flip, Wednesday gasps.

“It is you.” She says, sounding star struck.

And then as if just remembering you were there, she looks at you, with more emotion than you’ve ever seen before.

You feel your knees get a little week, even though you haven’t even been standing. Wednesday looks in awe.

“Happy Anniversary Wends. I didn’t know where I could find Nero so I called up your dad, I hope that’s oka-“

You’re cut off by Wednesday engulfing you in a fierce hug, and she would never admit it, but you swear you felt something damp on your shoulder.

You let the moment be, don’t tease her about it. Caressing her back a little as she leans just slightly into you.

“You’re an idiot.” She whispers, and you shiver at the sensation of her lips on your bare skin.

“Yeah I know, but you love me.” You say with a cheeky grin.

Wednesday doesn’t say anything back,but you don’t mind. Words had never been her way of expressing love, and having her here, teary eyed and smiling; albeit a tiny smile, was confirmation enough she felt the same.

You didn’t end up getting to do the things on your list for your anniversary, but in a way, what you ended up with was much better.

The rest of the day was spent with Wednesday in your arms, and a tiny scorpion in hers.

It was getting sort of uncomfortable, the position you were in, but you didn’t dare move away.

When Enid had walked in, looking for her disappearing roommate, and spotted you two asleep in each other’s arms. She bit back a squeal and snapped a quick photo on her phone.

You later asked for the photo and set it as your lockscreen.

It was a real pain bringing Nero back, but considering everything, you would definitely do it again.