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scribere-flores · 1 day

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Sabo x Reader

~Just as a hypothetical question~

Part 5. Other Parts Word count: 3,8k words Short summary: Reader is preparing her escape, slowly losing it over her confusing feelings. Sabo is in his stalker era. AN: Dear God, I don't know what took over me when writing this. Let me begin with saying I don't condone stalking irl, this is just a silly self-indulgent fic. There is also mentions of a knife at one point, more as a joke, but it's there. Still nothing graphic. Smut will come in the next one, which will also be the last part. Thank you for reading!💕

MDNI 18+

(This man is way too pretty for his own good)

___

Almost three days had passed since Y/N became aware of Sabo’s true identity. And of the real threat he posed to her. He was dangerous, not just because he probably could crush her windpipe with little to no effort.

No, the real reason Sabo was so dangerous was because of his goddamn charm. Always helpful, always making her flustered. Always making her laugh against her will. It was still impossible for her to keep it together when she was near him.

He was playing a sick, sadistic game with her feelings. He wanted to kill her for god sake! And, even though those horrid facts were clear to her, Y/N’s heart still wanted to jump out of her chest every time she saw him.

And that was probably saying more about how messed up she was. Desperately clinging to the first person that ever showed her concern, even though she knew it was fake. Pathetic.

She kept having this one recurring dream. Being alone in a dark room, until the door suddenly opens, and Sabo walks with a smug grin on his face.

He stands behind her, places her wrists behind her back, and then proceeds to let his hands travel all over her body. Cold leather from his gloves caressing her skin as he presses soft kisses down her neck and back.

His movements growing more impatient as he takes a strong grip around her hair, pulling her against him. Then, just before the dream ends, his other hand snakes around her neck, cutting the air from entering her lungs.

And it excites her! Y/N always wakes up feeling hot and tingly after that dream, which means that something must be seriously wrong with her.

The man wants to kill her and she gets excited by the thought of him choking her?! That can’t be normal, it just can’t.

Besides her internal crises that she still had the hots for her future potential murderer, everything else was going as planned.

After spending a half-day crying over the fact that the handsome, cruel man had tricked her just for his own pleasure, Y/N finally pulled herself together and started planning her escape. She was not willingly staying in this cursed base just to later be dragged to the execution stand.

So she had made a list, things she needed to secure her safety once she left. All the things she had spent the last few days gathering. Things that now were securely kept in a bag in her closet.

She had also visited the small library more than once, reading every book on wilderness survival she could find. Memorizing pictures of what plants were safe to eat and which ones she should avoid. It wouldn’t exactly be ideal if she ran away from torture and her own murder, just to then die of food poisoning.

Y/N had done all these things, and she was painfully aware of the fact that she had been watched.

Sabo was always near, following her like some curious cat, trying to figure out what the mouse he was hunting was doing. She was the mouse in this scenario, and it was starting to get on her last nerve.

He looked amused the entire time too, huge grin on his face, probably getting some twisted sense of pleasure from watching her from afar. It was annoying, and Y/N was pretty sure stalking counted as a crime. But so was trying to overthrow the World Government, so Sabo might just not care that he was breaking the law.

It didn’t matter anyways, she had already gathered everything she needed and her planned escape was happening tomorrow.

She was currently pacing back and forth in her room, trying to figure out if she had forgotten about something.

Who was she kidding, she most definitely had.

She hadn’t stepped foot outside the castle gates her entire life before two weeks ago, and now she was planning to survive out in the wilderness all by herself. It was a recipe for disaster.

But if the choice was between dying of hypothermia in freedom, or in the hands of the Revolutionary Army and her handsome tormentor, Y/N would choose freezing cold freedom everyday of the week.

Suddenly, her dark thoughts were interrupted by a knock on her door.

“Jane Doe, you in there?” An obnoxious, honey-sweet voice could be heard on the other side.

Hate that stupid nickname.

He seriously needed to stop doing this. For the last couple of mornings, at the same time everyday, Sabo had knocked on her door, asking if she was there.

And Y/N never answered, pretending that she wasn’t in the room. He usually stayed outside for a few minutes before he left, which was probably going to be the case today too.

She heard Sabo let out a deep sigh.

“I don’t know if you’re there, but I’m coming in.” He stated, like he wasn’t about to invade the last personal space she had at this godforsaken base.

Goddamnit… She had locked the door, right?

No, this wasn’t the time to take any chances, she needed to hide. Who knew what god awful thing he would do to her if he found her.

Y/N quickly scanned the room for a hiding spot. Under the bed was too obvious, even she knew that. As her eyes landed on the small built-in closet, she heard the doorknob starting to turn. She didn’t have the time to be picky, she needed to hide, now!

Just as she had slid the closet shut, the bedroom door flew open. The small wooden planks of the closet door barely gave her any vision of the room, but the gap was wide enough to see Sabo mindlessly walk in. Not a care in the world, like he belonged in there.

‘He wishes.’ Y/N thought as she rolled her eyes.

Then she noticed that he was looking at the closet, straight at her, with a serious look that spelled nothing but trouble. She could swear that her heart was trying to crack her ribcage open by how hard it was beating.

She put her hands over her mouth, careful to not make a sound, as Sabo’s eyes lingered on her hiding spot for a few more seconds. Then an amused grin spread over his face, before he turned around and started to look around her room.

Dear God, that had been a close call.

“Are you hiding from me, Angel?” Sabo chuckled, bending down to look under the bed.

Since his blatant fake confession he had called her that from time to time. Some new way to play tricks on her mind for sure. And Y/N always berated herself when she heard it, because it made her stupid heart flutter every time.

Seriously, what was wrong with her?

Besides studying up on how to survive on her own, she had read a few books on psychology during her visits to the library. In those she had learned about this thing called *Stockholm Syndrome*, basically when a captive believes they are in love with their capturer.

And Y/N had let out a sigh of relief when she read that. It explained every warm feeling she had for the man that she was 95% sure wanted to chop her head off in front of a crowd. The other 5%, well… that was the dumb sliver of hope that still lingered in the back of her mind.

A sliver of hope that she consciously ignored. She wasn’t in her right mind, she had been manipulated by that handsome devil, and the strange thoughts she had about him couldn’t be trusted.

She had to stick to what she knew, and that was that Revolutionaries hated Nobles with a burning passion. At least, that had to be the case when the revolutionary in question was their Second in Command.

The closet walls were starting to feel cramped as she continued to watch Sabo mindlessly prance around her bedroom. He picked up her pillow, brought it to his face and let out a low groan as he took a deep inhale through his nose, making Y/N really question the man’s sanity. Was he trying to memorize her scent in case he had to hunt her down?

What was he? A goddamn bloodhound or something?

She let out a quiet scoff when he put the pillow back, seeing a satisfied look on his face. She shouldn't have done that.

His eyes zeroed in on her again, a wicked smile spreading over his lips, making Y/N forget how to breathe.

A shiver went down her spine as she watched Sabo move closer, stopping right outside the closet. He was so close she could feel him towering over her through the door.

“Are you in here, Angel? Please answer if you are.”

Dear God, please don’t open it.

Someone was apparently listening to her prayer, since he abruptly turned around, when Y/N was just seconds from passing out due to the lack of air in her lungs.

“Bummer, guess she’s not here then.” Sabo said in a monotone voice, putting his hand to his cheek in a dramatic manner.

He started to walk towards the door. She couldn’t believe it, she was actually going to get through this without being found.

Then, Sabo stopped in the middle of his step, right as he walked by her dresser. He carefully opened the top draw, which wasn’t good. That wasn’t good at all.

“Hmm… I might as well since I’m already here.” He snickered as he took something out and stuffed it in his pocket, quickly leaving the room right after.

As soon as the bedroom door closed, Y/N fell out of the closet and landed on the floor. Too shocked from what she just had witnessed.

“Did- did he just steal my underwear?” She whispered to herself, as she felt a warm flush spread over her face.

Was Sabo a pervert?

Because that would explain sooo much. She laid on the floor, pondering on her theory for a few moments, before she rolled over on her back and let out a weird, nervous laugh.

“Yes, definitely a pervert… Just gonna add that to the list of reasons why he needs to be avoided at all cost.” Y/N concluded, questioning how she had gotten herself in this situation to begin with.

___

So fucking angelic.

There was no other way of describing her. Even though she had actively been avoiding him for the past few days and making him watch her from afar.

But Sabo could forgive that. She was obviously planning something, and the most optimistic part of himself had convinced him that it was going to be a surprise.

He didn’t know what kind of surprise yet, but he looked forward to it. A little too much in fact.

He had watched his Angel gather all sorts of things, swiping snacks from the pantry when she thought no one was looking. Snatching blankets and other fabrics from the laundry, candles and matches from the storage.

All things that were needed for a romantic date.

Sabo still wasn’t sure why she needed all the tools she stole from the supply closet, nor did he understand what she was going to use a tarp for.

But he almost lost his shit yesterday when he saw her sneak a rope into her bag. If his, quite frankly, dirty mind was right and she wanted him to tie her up with it, he might have to marry her on the spot.

The knife however, that was still a bit concerning… But hey, he was willing to try out whatever she had in mind at least once.

No matter what she was doing, these past few days had convinced him.

She had continued to play their little game, even though the rules had changed a bit. AND, she was planning a romantic surprise for him. That girl understood him so well.

She liked him, maybe just as much as he liked her, if that even was possible.

Sabo knew his obsession was starting to get a little out of hand. Or in all honesty, “a little” would be an understatement.

He knew that what he was doing wasn’t exactly normal. Watching her go about her day, keeping tabs on where she was, at what time in the morning she was leaving her bedroom and when she usually returned. Putting it in a more brutal way, he was stalking her.

God- that girl brought out dark things in him he wasn’t even aware were there before. Last night he spent at least two hours convincing himself that, sneaking into her room through her window while she was sleeping, wasn’t a good idea.

It wasn’t, he knew that. No matter how much that girl had messed with his moral compass, he knew that it would be crossing a line.

But he just wanted to hear the sweet voice he had been deprived of hearing for the last few days, even if it was her yelling at him to get out.

That’s why he went to see her this morning, to talk to her. Not about anything special, he just wanted to see her pretty mouth move, until his mind was filled with nothing but the sweet sound of her voice.

Sabo knew she had been in there, observation haki really becoming handy in these kinds of situations. But she hid in her closet when he stepped into her room.

And if she wanted to play Hide and Seek, who was he to deprive her of that fun?

Plus, he had gotten a little prize for playing along.

Still, things had started to become a little boring for him.

At first, it had been exciting seeing her turn a corner every time he was near. Watching her look over her shoulder to see if he was there. It was twisted- but fuck- just knowing she was constantly thinking about him brought him so much joy.

Even if she was doing it in an attempt to avoid him, Sabo couldn’t be mad about it. She was obviously still trying to muster up the courage to face him after his blatant confession.

It was cute.

He had imagined her confessing her feelings for him so many times at this point. Nervous stutters leaving her mouth, a flustered blush spreading over her face.

God- Just the thought made him want to do unspeakable things to that poor girl.

And in any normal case, Sabo was nothing but patient. With her however, not so much.

Like previously stated, watching her had been fun for a while. But he was done with just watching now, he wanted to be with her. Being close to her, talking to her, teasing her. Seeing her smile, laugh or just resting peacefully on his chest.

So, at this moment he was in the library, hiding behind a bookshelf and going over his options on how to best approach her.

Jane Doe was sitting at a table a bit further away, reading a book in peace. Looking absolutely angelic.

Besides the two of them, the rest of the room was empty. And dammit, if there hadn’t been so many unresolved issues that needed to be sorted out first, he would probably pin her to that table right this moment.

Hitching that cute, little skirt up over her hips as he left kisses up and down her gorgeous legs. Teasing her to the brink of insanity until she begged him to touch her. Eating her out like a man starved for food-

Yeah, that was definitely not happening yet.

The second best option was to go over there, trying to make her flustered enough to at least blush. Which shouldn’t be too hard to achieve.

So Sabo did just that, walking over with a statement that was suggestive enough in mind. He stopped right behind her chair, bending down close to her ear, feeling a bit amused when he saw her flinch.

“You know, I had this dream last night- and fuck- your hands felt so soft against my skin. Like an Angel touching my very soul.” He said in a low voice, blowing a puff of hot air against her neck.

It was true, he really dreamt that last night. He had been kinda pissed off when he woke, not wanting the wonderful dream to end.

And he knew how much his little nickname affected her, she was so bad at hiding her true feelings.

“Dear God, why?” The girl asked under her breath, making Sabo chuckle as he walked over to the other side of the table, sitting down across from her.

“Why? Cause you’re cute, and funny, and ignoring me. So you’re obviously my type.” He stated, watching her mindlessly turn to the next page in her book.

“I’m sorry, what were you saying?” She answered, looking up at him for the first time.

“Perfect.” Sabo sighed, getting completely lost in her eyes.

He barely had the chance to catch the pretty blush that spread over her face, before she turned her head down.

But it was there, he saw it, and it made his chest fill with pride. No matter how hard she tried to ignore him, he could still make her flustered anytime he wanted to.

“Are you bothered by me being here?” He asked, giving her a teasing smile.

“Yes. I want to be alone.” She said curtly in response, not paying him more attention than necessary.

It was selfish, and probably a bit dumb. But Sabo wanted her attention to be on him, and not on some stupid book. What was so interesting about it anyways, for her to not look at him? He was way more interesting-

God, he really needed to seek professional help, didn't he? He was jealous over a fucking book.

“What are you reading anyway?” He scoffed, failing to keep his displeasure in.

“None of your business.” She snapped back, voice deprived of any warmth.

Shit, was she annoyed? That couldn’t be good…

“Why are you so snappy today?” Sabo asked, needing to know if all of it was just in his head.

“I’m not.” She bit out, jaw visibly clenching.

If it was one thing Sabo took pride in, it was that he was good at reading people. But not this girl apparently, making her an exception in yet another way.

He must have fucked up big during the last couple of days for her to be this mad with him. Was it the stalking? Had he taken it too far?

“Yes you are. Did I do something to make you upset? I’ll try to fix it if you tell me.” He said, trying to reach for her hand, but she quickly moved it away.

“I said I’m not. Just drop it.”

Was this their first fight?

Sabo might not have been in any real long term relationship before, but he wanted this to work. He needed this to work, because he wasn’t sure if he could recover from being rejected by her.

He knew that communication was important in any healthy relationship, so her avoiding the topic wasn’t going to cut it.

“I will drop it, if you tell me what’s wrong. I don’t want you to be angry at me and-”

“Can you just back the fuck off and leave me alone?” She said with an irritated tone, looking up at him with fire in her eyes.

Oh fuck, she’s mad mad.

She swore… she actually swore. That was a word Sabo thought he never would hear leave his Angel's beautiful mouth.

Was this about the underwear? He knew she had been hiding in the closet when he “borrowed” them, but he didn’t think she would be this angry about it.

“Is this about what I took from your room? Because I was going to give-”

“IT’S NOT ABOUT THE FUCKING UNDERWEAR!”

“Okay, so I must have done something else then… I'm sorry?” He said, feeling his heart sink to his stomach.

She didn’t say anything more. She just let out a frustrated groan as she slammed the book shut, leaving it on the table and walked away. Leaving him alone with nothing but his own thoughts.

Goddamnit!

He messed up, this was not how he wanted things to go. Had he been wrong the entire time? Had she actually been mad at him, and was that the reason she avoided him to begin with? Had they not just been playing their usual silly game?

Fuck, maybe had he come on too strong three days ago. He did choke her, so it wouldn’t be surprising if that was the reason. But she said she liked it, right?

Sabo was about to go crazy, trying to figure out what he did wrong, when his eyes landed on the green cover of the book she had been reading.

He picked it up, curiosity getting the better of him.

�� *Outdoor Survival for Beginners*- what the actual?” He flipped through the pages, as something clicked in his brain. “Shit-”

Jane Doe was planning on running away…

It all made sense now. Why she avoided him, why she had gathered all those different things. Why she had been so defensive just moments ago.

(Why she hadn’t told him she liked him too.)

She was leaving, and she didn’t want anything left behind. It made sense, he would do the same thing if he knew he was leaving. It was plain cruel to confess your feelings to someone, just to be gone a few days later.

That’s why he had confessed to her. He wasn’t exactly planning on leaving her anytime soon, and he wanted her to know that.

Still, the only thing that didn’t make sense was her reason. Why would she want to run away?

She liked it here, Sabo saw how happy she looked whenever she helped around the base. How well she got along with Koala. How peaceful she had looked that morning when she slept on his chest.

In fact, why was she even hiding her identity to begin with? He hadn’t thought about it more than in passing, his mind usually being too preoccupied with holding his urges back around her.

Something wasn’t right…

“I might have to speed some things up.” Determination took over him.

Her plan was batshit crazy to begin with. She couldn’t even cook, how the fuck was she going to survive alone in the woods? She would die, hungry, freezing and alone, within a couple of days.

Sabo couldn’t stand the thought of losing someone he cared for again. Not after Ace-

No. This wasn’t the time to dwell on that.

He had a few very urgent house calls to make.

___

Tag list: @nymeriiiia

#one piece fanfiction #sabo x reader #x reader #sabo smut #one piece smut #fanfic #sabo #revolutionary sabo

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somegrumpynerd · 10 months

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Y'know when a cat falls asleep on you and you can't move? That rule also applies to henchmen and now Nightmare is trapped. Kind of a part 2 to this

At least Lyra is having fun

#UTDR #UTMV #Fuzzynight #Dadmare #She got a text from Nightmare which is the scariest thing of all #This man Does Not know how to text so something was very wrong #Turns out his tentacles just got too cosy during movie night #Rip Nightmare enjoy your new life as a blanket/ pillow/ teddy bear #She will help release him #...Eventually #When she's done figuring out how to take a picture #How does it feel Nightmare? Oh how the turntables

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sunarc · 10 months

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Dilf Toji fucks you nice and slow when you’re done putting Megumi down for bed. He wants to thank you for being so good to him and his son. As a single dad it gets hard so when you came into the picture offering your services it was hard to deny such a genuine offer. You’re so good to Megumi, gentle, kind and patient. Toji can’t help the growing bulge in his pants when he sees you being such a strong mother figure. He has to show you his gratitude. The best way he can do that is by having you in a mating press so he can fuck you nice and deep.

“You like that?” his voice is a soft hum.

You feel dizzy. His cock feels so deep. He’s stretching you out more than ever before. You call out his name in a soft whimper.

“Yeah? I’m right here doll don't worry I’m not going anywhere” he groans.

Toji’s obsessed with the way you look taking his cock. Your hole looks so perfect clenching, barely able to fit all of him. You look so full, Toji can’t help but imagine how full you would look with his cum drooling out of you. He has to see it. He’s determined to fuck you full of his cum. His cock plunges in and out of you creating a pattern. Your moans fall past your lips making a tune Toji never wants to forget.

“That’s it, good girl, say my name” you sound so pretty to him. “Tell me who fucks you this good, say it , tell me no one can make you shake like this, no one can fill this pussy up the way i can”

He’s never felt himself lose control like this before. There’s something about you, something that leaves him desperate for more. He craves you, desires you every waking second. The way your lips part letting pleads and moans drip off your tongue has him losing his mind. He can’t get enough of you. He knows he should be quiet but the way your cunt feels squeezing him so tight he thinks he just might lose his mind. “That feel good baby? Yeah I know” he coos “I’m gonna fuck you so full” his pace is picking up speed.

His mind is practically blank thinking of how he wants to fill you to the brim with his cum. No that’s not enough he needs to give you every last drop he has.

“You need my cum don’t you” he’s desperate to hear you say it. He’s practically begging to hear you asking for his cum. Tell him how much you want his babies. He can make you a mommy. Don’t you want him to make you a mommy?

“Our baby is gonna be so beautiful” he whispers. He isn’t sure if you can hear him but he doesn’t mind as long as you’re still losing your mind calling out his name.

“That’s right” he growls “Say my name while I fuck a baby into you”

His hand push your thighs further down so he can reach deeper. The way he drags his cock past you slick walls has you shaking. Your words come out slurred.

“It’s too big” you whine as he goes deeper

“No no you can take it.” he bites he lips continuing his long deep strokes. He knows you can take it. Your eyes roll back when he begins grinding his hips into you. He knows he’s hit the spot he’s been searching for.

“There she is” he chuckles.

You can barely contain the moans now. Your body is shaking uncontrollably.

“Please” you gasp “S-slow down, I’m gonna make a mess” you cry.

Toji loves the sound of that. He thrust pick up speed, fucking into you even harder.

“That’s it, just like that, make a mess on my cock.”

He’s desperately chasing after his own orgasm. He wants to cum with you. His thrust are sloppy. He’s moaning your name pleading for you to cum for him.

“Cum-fuck Now” he demands.

You can’t help the juices the splatter against his abs as he fucks his load into you. The two of you are a moaning mess. You ramble incoherent words paired with his name. His eyes are glued on the sticky mess between the two of you. The squelching sounds of his cock fucking his cum back in fill the room.

“What a pretty sight this is. I hope it’s a girl” he moans “She’ll have your eyes”

You can barely give him a reply to focused on the way his cock is still plunging in and out.

“It’s too much” you slur.

“No baby it’s not enough” he groans “I gotta make sure this tummy is full of my cum. One more just one more okay”

Toji has plans on fucking way more than just one more load into you. He has to fuck you full until he’s sure of it you’ll be the one carrying Megumi’s little sister.

#toji smut #jjk toji #jujutsu toji #toji zenin #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #toji x you #dilf toji #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji x y/n #toji headcanons #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen drabble #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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vanteguccir · 7 months

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── ୨୧ !　𝟴 𝗠𝗜𝗡𝗨𝗧𝗘𝗦 𝗢𝗙 𝗖𝗨𝗧𝗘 𝗠𝗢𝗠𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗦

　　　　　　　　𝒄𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x reader

SUMMARY: Where a fan made an 8-minute video with a compilation of Chris and Y/N being in love.

WARNING: None.

REQUESTED?: Yes, by @lightsgore

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

The fans of the triplets simply adored Y/N and Chris together, and that wasn't news. The number of comments and likes doubled whenever the girl appeared with her boyfriend in a random picture in a photo dump on Instagram or when her voice sounded in the background of a video.

But what they loved most was when a cute moment of the two of them together was captured during a video on the Sturniolo channel or in a fraction of seconds on Y/N's TikTok, and they made this clear by making thousands of compilations of these little moments, long enough to even post on YouTube.

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

8 minutes of cute moments between Chris Sturniolo and his girlfriend, Y/N.

1st minute:

The triplets and Y/N were walking down the sidewalk near the arena in Boston, where they played hockey with Nate.

Nick was recording himself with his phone, talking about how he had almost slipped on the ice several times, when Chris and Y/N's voices sounded, interrupting him. He focused the front camera on the two behind him, surreptitiously recording them.

"... But baby, it wasn't my fault." Y/N complained, her lips forming a pout as her eyes focused on the floor.

"Babe, I asked you to record the game, right?" Chris asked, an amused smile on his face.

They walked side by side, the girl's right arm around her boyfriend's slightly sweaty waist, while Chris's left arm rested on Y/N's shoulders, his fingers caressing her left bicep lightly.

"Yes, and I recorded it!" Her voice came out high-pitched.

"Okay, and how many times did I make a goal?" The boy asked again, raising his right eyebrow.

"Three." Y/N replied in an obvious tone, raising her eyes to look into the blue ones she loved so much. "You kissed me every time you did it." She smiles proudly.

"Yes, and how many of those three did you record?"

"None." She looked down again, her pout deepening. "But-"

Chris threw his head back, his laughter echoing through the night, interrupting his girlfriend's defense.

He leaned down slightly, sealing his lips over Y/N's head, an amused smile still on his face. Oh, how he loved his girlfriend.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

2nd minute:

The triplets were filming the video "A night at the North Pole with Larray and Nai!". The camera was positioned in a strategic point so that the lens captured all the camping items around the room, as well as the brothers and the two guests.

Y/N was in her shared room with Chris, already dressed in her - his - pajamas and with her skincare done, ready for bed. But sleep never came.

She knew she had trouble sleeping without Chris after her body got used to the boy's presence pressed against hers every night for 5 years, so her mind didn't seem to give in, begging for the warmth that Chris's larger body provided.

After a few long minutes of turning from side to side, Y/N gave up trying. Sleep was taking over her, and she was feeling more and more stressed for not being able to go into dream land, so she decided to just go to her boyfriend.

Y/N rose from the bed, their duvet wrapped around her body like a cape. Her hands reached for the handle of the white door, closing it behind her and climbing the stairs in slow, silent steps caused by the fluffy socks that covered her feet.

Larray was the first to notice her - sitting facing the top of the stairs. He smiled, amused by his friend's condition; her eyes slightly closed from sleep, her hair high in a messy bun, and her hands gripping the edges of the duvet tightly.

Not many seconds passed, and Y/N's figure was finally caught by the camera, the girl having entered the frame.

"Hey, zombie girl." Nick joked when he noticed her, raising his eyebrows in amusement.

Y/N completely ignored him, walking towards her boyfriend from behind the triplets, not wanting to step on the food that was on the floor between the five of them.

Chris's face automatically lit up when he noticed her after hearing his brother, a big smile taking over as his eyes sparkled. He opened his arms, already waiting for his girlfriend's next move.

The girl smiled lazily back, planting her feet on the floor on either side of her boyfriend's hips, before lowering herself with Chris's help, sitting on his lap.

The brunette quickly wrapped her in his arms, surrounding her torso covered by the fluffy duvet. He hugged her tightly, laying his head in the crook of her neck and exhaling the sweet scent of her shampoo momentarily, before resting his chin on her shoulder, being able to see everything in front of him.

"Sleep, pretty girl."

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

3rd minute:

Chris was playing Fortnite live on Twitch. His camera was on and focused on his upper body. His head was covered by the hood of his hoodie, pressed against his ears by the headphone, from where muffled sounds from the video game were coming out.

Within 30 minutes of streaming, Y/N's figure shyly appeared behind Chris. Her hands held a tray with some snacks and an already opened can of Pepsi.

She walked towards her boyfriend, curving her spine slightly forward so that her face came into his field of vision, alerting him to her presence.

The boy's blue eyes widened in excitement almost instantly, a smile stretching across his face as his right hand worked on pausing the game, using the soles of his feet against the floor to turn his body towards her.

"Hi bubba, I just came to drop off some snacks for you. It's been a while since you had dinner, I thought you could be hungry." Y/N counted in a low tone, momentarily forgetting that Chris's headphones were of the highest quality, meaning it caught her every word.

The couple didn't notice the chaos in the chat, too focused on each other.

Chris bit his lower lip in an attempt to stop his smile from growing any wider, taking the tray from Y/N's hands and placing it on the free space on his computer desk.

He lifted his chin slightly in the air so that he brought his lips closer to hers, sealing them in a quick kiss, his eyes shining with intense love.

"Thank you, babe." Chris thanked in an equally low tone, adjusting himself in his chair again, ready to go back to playing.

Y/N smiled, caressing his shoulder lightly before turning to leave the room.

"I love you." The brunette shouted quickly before his girlfriend could close the door, receiving an "I love you more" in return.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

4th minute:

The triplets and Y/N were at an Italian restaurant, having decided to go out to dinner together that day.

Y/N was talking to Matt about one of the random facts that the boy knew and blurted out of nowhere, the two deeply involved in the conversation.

The dishes had just been delivered by the waiter, who placed them respectively in front of the person who ordered, leaving shortly afterward.

Chris quickly pulled Y/N's plate towards himself, grabbing his own knife and fork and cutting the sirloin steak into small pieces and separating them from the pasta, knowing how much his girl hated cutting meat and how she always ate too quickly.

What he didn't notice was that Nick took out his phone the moment he started the gesture, closely recording his brother cutting his girlfriend's food, practicing the act of service.

After finishing, Chris lightly pushed the plate in front of his girl, turning around to start eating his own.

The girl smiled shyly, turning to Chris momentarily, sealing her lips over his cheek before murmuring a "thank you, babe" against his skin, turning her attention back to Matt.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

5th minute:

The triplets were in their car, recording another car video. Y/N was their special guest, sitting in the backseat next to Chris, who chose to sit there just to be close to his girlfriend.

Y/N had just taken a bite of the pepperoni pizza that Nick took from the trunk, finishing chewing quickly so she could bring her point of view on something Nick was saying, gesturing with her right hand while her left held the piece carefully.

Chris watched her closely, his eyes fixed on her side profile as he listened, nodding his head.

Something the fandom loved was how Y/N was the only person Chris didn't interrupt all the time, showing himself completely interested in hearing anything his girl was saying, regardless of whether it made sense or not.

At one point, the boy lowered his eyes, stretching his right arm and taking one of the napkins that was on the car console, bringing it to Y/N's mouth, lightly wiping the corner of her lip that was dirty with sauce, but without interrupting her.

Chris folded the napkin, leaving it on his lap, knowing he would have to use it again soon.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

6th minute:

"Look, boys, learn from Chris how to treat a girl right." Nick whispered from behind his phone.

He was standing behind the kitchen table, holding his cell in his right hand, the rear camera focused on the living room couch, where Y/N was.

The girl was lying on her side, her knees bent so that her thighs touched her chest. Her back was facing the room, while her face was lightly pressed against the back of the couch. A Fresh Love sweatshirt set covered her body, keeping her warm.

Small sighs escaped her half-open mouth, her eyes moving behind her eyelids, showing how deep her sleep was.

Chris, who was sitting with her feet on his lap seconds ago, was now standing in front of the couch, curving his spine down so that he could reach his girlfriend, slowly passing his arms under her neck and bent knees, pulling her up.

On instinct, Y/N raised her left arm, surrounding Chris's neck and laying her head on his chest, waking up for just a few seconds, caressing his covered skin with the tip of her nose.

"Shh, sleep baby. I'm right here." Chris murmured in a low tone, sealing her forehead lightly, stopping his movements as he watched her close her eyes again, falling back to sleep.

Chris moved slowly, hugging Y/N's body against his as he walked towards the stairs, not noticing Nick recording them from afar.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

7th minute:

Y/N was sitting on the puff in front of her makeshift dressing table. Her phone was resting on it horizontally while her front camera recorded herself.

She was talking about the new trend in the fashion world, having as a hobby making videos for TikTok about fashion and makeup. While the girl explained in detail, her hands worked on doing her nighttime skincare, gesturing, and changing products alternately.

Chris's figure appeared behind her a few seconds after she started it, his hands holding Y/N's hairbrush. He was already ready to sleep, his eyes half closed with sleep and his hair slightly messy.

A habit created by the couple was that, while Y/N did her skincare before bed, Chris would carefully comb her hair, having always had a great love for her locks.

The boy approached his girlfriend, smiling quickly at the camera before stopping behind Y/N. His free hand parted her hair so he could comb it without hurting her or leaving any part behind.

Chris raised his hand with the hairbrush, starting to do it gently, untangling the knots created throughout the day and aligning the strands.

His eyes met Y/N's from time to time through the mirror, a small smile resting on his lips, adorning his passionate features.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

8th minute:

It was the Versus Tour; Matt, Chris, and Nick were playing the last round of Giant Jenga when Chris spotted a fan with a sign held up.

"Wait, before we continue, can I read a sign from a fan real quick?" The brunette interrupted the group, holding his microphone with his right hand and pointing at the crowd with his left one, receiving absurdly loud screams in response.

Matt shrugged, looking at Nick, who nodded, making a go-ahead gesture with his hands.

"Hi! Can I read your sign?" Chris turned back to the audience, pointing to a specific girl. The girl's eyes widened, her mouth opening in shock at being noticed by her idol, taking a few seconds to finally nod her head repeatedly. "Your sign says, "I'm only here for Y/N"-"

Loud screams interrupted Chris, fans going wild at the mention of his girlfriend's name. The brunette took the microphone away from his mouth, laughing in disbelief and looking at a specific area on the right side of the stage.

A fan, who was in the audience and recording the moment, focused the rear camera of her phone on the place where Chris looked, being able to capture the figure of Y/N, who was laughing loudly and clapping her hands in amusement, shaking her head.

"Well, I can't judge you. Everywhere I am, I only go for Y/N, too." Chris muttered into his microphone again, laughing as he received even louder screams in response.

His eyes met his girlfriend's, throwing an air kiss and an "I love you" with just a movement of his lips, before turning his attention back to the game.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Extra minute:

The triplets and Y/N were at their house with Nate and Madi. Everyone was in the living room, talking about random topics while a movie played on the television at low volume, serving as ambient sound. Some board games were scattered on the floor, next to unopened or already eaten snacks.

Chris was sitting on a puff in front of the big windows while Y/N was on his lap. She had her legs thrown to one side while her torso was on the other, sitting sideways on Chris's thighs with her right shoulder resting on his chest.

Chris's arms encircled her body, his right one holding her waist while his left one caressed her thighs lightly.

The girl was talking about a situation she witnessed between a group of third-party friends, always keeping her boyfriend updated on the gossip.

What they didn't know was that Madi was recording their cute moment.

As Y/N spoke, Chris looked into her eyes intently, his gaze so full of love that Madi thought she could see hearts in the place of his pupils.

The brunette nodded from time to time, making it clear that he had his attention on her and understood everything she was saying, an almost imperceptible smile resting on the corner of his lips.

The two seemed to be surrounded by a bubble created just for them, the entire outside world completely forgotten.

That was their dynamic, and the triplets fandom loved it.

taglist:

@lustfulslxt @ladybunny44 @worldlxvlys @earth2starkey @remussbitch @freshloveforthefit @il0vebeingdelulu @sturniolowhore @mimi-luvzyu @alorsxsturn @urfavgirllyyyyy @domizzzsstuff @sturnizd @hearts4chris @cupidzsq @dracoflaco @leah-loves-lilies @tylerthecreatorsrealwife @rootbeerworshiper @junnniiieee07 @elliesturniolo1 @sstvrnioloo

(If you want to be added to the taglist, go to this post)

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hasnomoxxie · 10 days

Note

PLEASE SHOW US AUTHOR MABEL FROM LEVITY RISES PLEASE

Okay!

My inbox is flooded with messages like these, fun fact- when I started the designs I actually didn't know what to do with her- BUT NOW IK (at least some) OF WHAT I WANNA DO WITH HER.

Still trying to figure out what I wanna do with the design and lore of the bill replacement though- Still a heavy wip!

MABEL ⇆ STANFORD

Mabel takes the role of Stanford in this au! Fun loving and enthusiastic since birth, Mabel was once a budding young photographer who eventually found her way as a newspaper journalist for Levity Rises. She quickly began to notice some of the strange things happening in the town, taking pictures and objects to create her own scrapbooks. She didn't think much of it at the time, but she was certain her brother would've liked the scrapbooks. Maybe if she'd done something earlier, she wouldn't have accidentally ended up in another dimension for 30 years- oh well- at least she knows how to kick ass across 7 different dimensions. Not sure how the identity theft is gonna work yet-

OK REFRESHER ON THE OLD CAST and added Grauntie Mabel too! One of my friends suggested to call Ford 'Sixer' the same way Dipper is named, so that's what's gonna happen going forward just cause it's a cool lil detail (plus in this au Six hides his hands in a similar way to Dipper hiding his birthmark so I think it works). Notes as per usual :]

Also yeah, I put my ussy into that logo, you're gonna see it a bit

I'll still keep thinking of stuff for this au! I have a few screenshot edits planned :D

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maiiuelle · 2 months

Note

what if rafe and reader are more than friends but they didn’t really put a label on it and even top and kelce noticed but rafe still has the occasional hookup and one night when reader was js thinking abt stuff and then she realizes that shes inlove with rafe but when she came over to tannyhill to confess and rafe answered with his hair all messed up and him shirtless and he basically smelled like sex and when rafe asks why shes there she randomly just runs away and cries in her car while driving home so basically just angst (does that make sense idk)

you feel like your going crazy, standing at tannyhill’s front stoop twiddling your thumbs.

your relationship with rafe cameron is complicated; you’d almost call it a situationship, but you couldn’t put a label on it. you’d been going to all of his parties to serve as arm candy, posed with him at the golf course, and hooked up with him more than once. it’s beyond casual, but he has yet to pop the girlfriend question. even with his little commitment, you’d been finding it hard to keep your mind off of him — or rather, what the two of you had done together. you have to mean more to him than he’s letting on.

so, you knock on tannyhill’s giant glass front door again, biting your lip nervously as you look over the texts you’d already sent him to let him know you were coming.

“hey! just thinking ab u.. are u free tn? <3” you asked right after work, hopping in the shower in hopes you could head straight to his place after.

“busy. work shit. u free on friday?”

“oh idk. sucks we cant do tn, i miss u.” you followed your message with a picture of you sitting on your pink bedsheets, posing in the mirror to show off your silky pajamas. you thought he just needed a little convincing, but he didn’t respond.

“can u call me before bed? sorry, i know u said ur busy.”

by then it had been an hour or two, still no response from rafe. you were pacing around your room. all you wanted was to spend time with him, even if that meant lounging around while he works. anything would do, you just couldn’t stay away.

you came to the conclusion had to show him how much you care somehow, and what better way than to go to tannyhill and confess your love for him — it would be like a romance movie, he’d probably be exhausted from work and happy to see you by then!

“i’m sorry if this is sudden, i just feel like i really need to see you. i’ll just drop by for a second xoxo see u soon”

suddenly, the front door swings open, revealing a very disheveled rafe cameron. his bangs are a mess, sweaty and strewn across his forehead. his whole face is red, his lips swollen, and all he’s wearing are blue flannel pajama pants. you’d seen him like this before, pussy drunk and stumbling around a dark room. your heart deflates as he pushes open the front door, familiar blue eyes squinting at you through the night. “the fuck are you doing? you’re gonna wake up my fuckin’ dad.”

“work shit, huh? really, rafe?” you snap, looking him over completely disgusted. “what’re you d—”

“nah, nah. i told you i was busy — did i not?” he cuts you off, holding a finger in your face and grabbing your upper arm with the other hand, making you jump. “could’a kept yourself from all this if you just listened to me, right? right?” he jostles you, like he could shake a response out of you, but you’re frozen. he lets you go at the sight of your face, squeezing the bridge of his nose. “fuckin’ figures.”

“are you.. high?” you pull your knit cardigan tighter around your shoulders, tears already beginning to brim your waterline at the utter betrayal.

rafe recoils, acting overly offended to take the heat off his obvious cheating. “you’re gonna talk to me like that at my own goddamn house? do me a favor — go home, and i’ll think about callin’ you.”

“don’t bother. asshole.” you cry, turning away. the last glimmer of hope you have is snuffed out when you hear the glass door slam behind him, leaving you alone once again.

defeated, you retreat back to your car, wiping your tear stained cheeks pitifully. you should have known, rafe cameron is a player.

➺ do you…

⟡ hear out rafe’s apology

⟡ tell jj what rafe did

#thanks for the message! ♡‧₊˚.#anon #OOOO this ask is beautiful #toxic rafe is.. well yes!#obx #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe x reader #minors dni #tw cheating

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jjkamochoso · 3 months

Text

Matchmaking Mina

Fluff

Soshiro Hoshina x gn!reader

Your kind-hearted captain has taken it upon herself to stoke the flames of love between you and Soshiro!

Warnings: none

Captain Mina Ashiro may act aloof, but she wasn’t blind. Anyone in the Third Division could see that you and Soshiro were the perfect match for each other. If neither of you were going to make the first move, it was only right that she, as your trusted leader, guided you in the right direction. Only, of course, after assessing the situation to make sure you two really did like one another.

*Click*

Her phone captured a snapshot of you at lunch one day, laughing at something Kafka had said. Your head was thrown back and your eyes were creased with joy—you looked positively radiant. Mina made her way to Soshiro’s office, eager to begin her investigation.

“Captain,” Soshiro saluted, “to what do i owe the pleasure?”

“Just stopping by. Checking on the status of your report from last week.”

“It’s almost done. I’ve been hard at work,” Soshiro grinned, sticking his pointer fingers out.

He’s in a pleasant mood. Let’s see if that changes.

“Good. I also came to show you a new picture of Bakko from the other day.”

It was a plausible excuse; Soshiro was a fan of cats as well and Mina was known for subjecting her friends and subordinates to monologues about how cute Bakko was. The vice captain was now standing by her side, peering over her shoulder at the phone in her hand.

“Here it is—oops! Wrong picture.”

Your picture was the one currently being displayed and from her peripheral vision, she saw Soshiro gulp ever so slightly, his eyes opened a bit wider. She was in no hurry, taking her time to slide her finger over the screen to the “correct” photo.

“Sorry about that. It was a cute photo, though, wasn’t it? Didn’t y/n look nice?”

“Huh? Yeah. I mean, sure,” he mumbled, the tips of his ears a rosy hue.

Now for the real test.

“I’d never seen her laugh so hard, but I guess that’s what happens when you’re around Kafka, right?”

There was an immediate shift of mood in the room, tension filling the open space like a dam had burst. Soshiro had gone from blushing to bloodthirsty in a millisecond and Mina was thankful she’d been blessed with a poker face or else she’d be bursting in laughter at his very apparent jealousy.

“If you’ll excuse me, Captain, I should finish this report.”

Soshiro saluted her again before sitting at his desk and Mina took her leave.

Well, that was informative.

Now she knew that Soshiro definitely harbored a crush for you and a hatred for Hibino. As she walked down the empty hallway, she let a small smile grace her lips.

She loved love.

Mina did the exact same experiment to you a few days later. As a fellow cat enthusiast, you were very excited at the prospect of seeing new Bakko content, quickly taking a seat next to your captain. This time around, she had managed to take an extremely flattering picture of Soshiro during training. He was standing outside, slightly flushed from the previous physical exertion, with one hand on his hip and the other pushing his hair out of his face.

Maybe if I ever retire I’ll become a photographer.

“…and there’s Bakko-oops. Not this.”

Your mouth was partially agape and she spied how you couldn’t tear your gaze away from the man on the screen. His tight fitting shirt hugged every curve of every muscle. His physique and pose were reminiscent of a model you’d see on a billboard in downtown Tokyo or on a runway in Paris.

“T-that’s a great picture you got of Vice Captain,” you breathed out in awe. “He looks so… hot.”

“If you’re into that sort of look, sure,” she answered.

“I definitely am,” you said dreamily, clearing your throat with embarrassment when you realized you said that out loud. “I mean, yeah. If someone was… hypothetically, like… into that sort of… thing.”

Mission 100% accomplished; they’re very much into each other.

Next up was the hard part of figuring out how to get confessions from the two of you without meddling too much. That’s why she was hoping today’s training, with you being partnered with Kafka, would be enough to stir up those same feelings and visceral reactions you both had while looking at the photos of each other not that long ago. So far, it was working splendidly. Kafka would say or do something ridiculous, causing you to howl with laughter and Soshiro to shoot Kafka a burning glare that could rival the intensity of a wildfire. Meanwhile, Soshiro would take his frustration out on the sparring training dummies, in turn leaving you dumbstruck at the way he moved so majestically and remained the most handsome man on earth, even in a state of sweaty exhaustion. When training was finally over, Mina couldn’t slow the buildup of anticipation deep inside her, eager to see the lovebirds admit their feelings, or at the very least, converse with each other. Neither of those things happened; you and Soshiro didn’t even exchange eye contact before going your separate ways.

Mina frowned. Didn’t she plant the seeds of attraction, water the foundations of a relationship, nurture the-

Looking back, I guess I didn’t do all that much.

“L/n.”

You turned around immediately at the sound of your captain’s voice, saluting as the dark haired woman approached you. You had just finished showering after a grueling day of exercise and were on your way to your room to get some much needed rest

“Come with me, please.”

“Right now?” you asked incredulously, eyes raking over the cat pajamas you were sporting. “Should I change into my uniform really quick?”

“No need,” she replied, “it’ll only be a moment:”

“Alright then.”

You were thoroughly confused but who were you to question your captain? You followed behind her dutifully, like a child following their mother to the kitchen for a glass of warm milk after a nightmare. Your eyebrows knit in confusion as she brought you into Soshiro’s office. He, too, had just showered, but he had changed into a fresh tracksuit, presumably because he never stopped working.

“Captain! What can I do for… you?” Soshiro faltered when he saw you peek out from behind Mina.

“I’m horribly underdressed for whatever’s happening. I sincerely apologize,” you said, bowing your head as to not meet his eyes. You weren’t that far below Soshiro’s rank, being a Platoon Leader, but you didn’t want your superior seeing you in such a state of disarray with your wet hair and casual attire in the office. Soshiro, on the other hand, didn’t seem to mind at all.

“Y/n! I didn’t see you back there at first. I like your pajamas, cats are always a good choice.” His fanged smile brought you a sense of comfort,

“Thank you.”

You two would’ve gotten lost in each other’s eyes if it weren’t for Mina reminding you she was still there.

“Let me explain what’s going on. Y/n, Soshiro likes you. Soshiro, y/n likes you.”

It was so silent you could hear a pin drop from across the base. You and Soshiro broke eye contact at breakneck speed, becoming self conscious and wary.

Mina was confused. Weird. Aren’t they supposed to kiss or something, like how it happens in books?

“I’ll leave you to it. Good night.”

Mina practically ran out of Soshiro’s office, getting hit with a whole slew of mixed emotions as she made her way to her own office. Was she wrong for getting involved in her subordinates’ love lives? Did she somehow misread the signals you both were giving off? Was her conclusion incorrect, leading her to be labeled a fool, unfit for a leadership position? She fretted all night thinking about the lack of response you and Soshiro had about the great news. The next morning, as she got ready, she thought of all the ways she could explain her behavior and hoped this situation wouldn’t lead to her getting fired (worst case scenario) or you and Soshiro feeling awkward around each other (bad case scenario). You two worked extremely well together, neutralizing kaiju with just glances and nods, no words needed, and she’d never forgive herself for ruining such a good team.

Mina fiddled with her jacket one last time before lifting her chin up and making the trek to her office to start the day. To her surprise, the door was ajar, you and Soshiro apparently waiting for her arrival.

Goodbye Third Division, hello HR…

“Captain,” you began, “Soshiro and I really appreciate what you were trying to do for us, but-”

“I overstepped my boundary,” she cut in. “I’m ashamed that I let my self control slip and I put my subordinates, the people in my care, in an uncomfortable position. I don’t know if I can ever regain your trust again, but I swear that I-”

“Captain.”

This time it was Soshiro who spoke out of turn. “My deepest apologies for interrupting you, but you don’t need to be sorry. Your intuition was correct—y/n and I do like each other.”

Mins could’ve cried tears of happiness hearing that, especially knowing that her job wasn’t at stake anymore, but her joy was turned to confusion when she noticed you and Soshiro share a glance, making a wordless agreement, and then both reaching into your shirts…?

She watched with curious eyes as a chain entered your grasp, previously hidden from view under your shirt, a small ring hanging down from it. Soshiro did the same, a matching ring gleaming under the fluorescent lights. It was then that the inquisitive, intelligent, intuitive captain made the connection—

“Soshiro and I are married,” you said, sheepishly glancing over at your husband. Now it was Mina’s turn to be deadly silent. However, you could tell she wasn’t upset, she was busy comprehending everything that was revealed to her.

“We didn’t tell anyone,” explained Soshiro, “because we didn’t want it to become an issue at work. In retrospect, we could’ve hidden it a bit better.”

He scoffed and folded his arms across his chest. “Though Kafka doesn’t ever seem to get the hint.”

“But we know we can trust you with our lives and we should’ve at least told you. I’m sorry for lying to you, Captain Ashiro,” you said, your head hanging low.

That’s when you heard the strangest sound.

Captain Mina Ashiro… was laughing?

“This was an interesting turn of events,” she eventually said, catching her breath. “It turns out I was correct, but not in the way I thought.”

She strutted over to her desk, sitting down and starting the computer. “If that’s all you had to report, then you’re dismissed. It’s time to go to work.”

She looked up one last time, quirking an eyebrow. “Or are you on your honeymoon?”

#soshiro hoshina x reader #soshiro hoshina fluff #hoshina soshiro x reader #soshiro hoshina #kn8 x reader #kaiju no 8 x reader #kaiju no. 8

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atlabeth · 7 months

Text

geyser

series masterlist

pairing: luke castellan x daughter of poseidon!reader

summary: percy learns about the first girl luke castellan ever loved.

a/n: this is a lil sad. sorry about that. but i really like it and it came out of nowhere in like 2 days so i hope you enjoy despite the sadness. title from the mitski song

wc: 6.5k

warning(s): major character death; not shown but hangs over the whole fic. angst made angstier by fluffy flashbacks. mostly told through percy’s pov but includes luke, annabeth, and reader povs

also if you saw this before on another account DONT WORRY... that account was also me. im just doing some stuff behind the scenes right now as i figure stuff out lol i promise no plagiarism is going on

Percy thought that his head might explode.

He didn’t know how he was still walking, honestly. His mom died, he killed a— no, the— Minotaur, all the Greek myths were real and his dad was one of them, and now he had to deal with that freak accident with Clarisse and the toilets.

At least he would be ready next time she tried to beat him up. Percy had been the new kid enough to know there would be a next time.

All he could do was stare at the Minotaur horn in his hands, the only sign that what happened outside the border was real. The horn in his hands and the hole in his heart.

Percy swallowed the lump in his throat. He’d been thrown into the deep end, and the only thing on his mind was when he would start to drown.

“Hey.” Percy looked up to see the counselor he’d met earlier with Annabeth—Luke. He tossed a ziploc bag at him and he caught it, taking a moment to look at what was in it.

“I stole you some toiletries from the camp store,” he explained. “Thought it might make you feel more at home.”

“…Thanks.” He didn’t know if Luke was joking, but the damage had already been done. And it was the nicest thing someone had done for him so far. He set it down next to his Minotaur shoebox. “Is this the best that it gets?”

Luke’s lips quirked up in a slight smile. “For now. We’re a little crowded, if you couldn’t tell.”

“Just a little bit.” Percy stood up from his sleeping bag and worked out the knot in his shoulder. “Where’s your bed? Assuming you have one.”

“I couldn’t wrangle all these cats without some back support,” he said, and he pointed to a bed in the corner. It was the only one on its own without a bunk, and he had a fair amount of decorations. Counselor privileges, he figured. Percy walked over, Luke trailing behind him.

“Nice place,” he said. Percy picked up the Yankee’s cap on his bedside table and nodded as he looked back at him. “Nice taste.”

“It’s for Annabeth,” Luke said. “She wanted us to match.”

Percy nodded again in approval. “Good taste for both of you.”

Luke had various other things around — an alarm clock knocked over next to the baseball cap, a huskie sticker on the wall half-scraped off, a poster for an album he didn’t recognize.

But the thing that caught his eye was a polaroid hanging on the wall, surrounded by a smattering of others varying in size.

The first one had to be an old picture—Luke didn’t have his scar, and the biggest smile stretched across his face. He had a girl close with an arm slung around her waist, and she might’ve been smiling even more than Luke. A bright energy emanated around her, something that must have transferred through the picture, because Percy found himself feeling a little better just looking at her. He wondered if she was a camper.

His eyes flicked to the next picture, which was another one of Luke and that girl. They were both laughing as she tried to put a blue hat on Luke’s head, and he protested with a hand on her wrist. They were in the forefront of a baseball game, Percy noticed.

There were other pictures, too—Luke, a girl dressed all punk, and what looked like a young version of Annabeth, most notably—but a majority of them were either Luke and that girl, or the girl all on her own. In every single one, she beamed brighter than the sun.

Percy pointed at the picture of Luke and the girl at the baseball game, his curiosity getting the better of him. “Who’s that?”

That seemed to catch Luke off-guard, his lips parting for a moment as if he wanted to say something. It barely took him any time to get back on track, but Percy found himself frowning.

“That’s…” Luke cleared his throat, wet his lips, shook his head. “A friend. A very good friend.”

“Does she go here?” Percy asked.

“She did.”

He frowned. “Where is she, then?”

“Percy—” Luke’s voice was strained, but he didn’t really notice as he went on.

“I didn’t see her around,” he continued, “and you look pretty close.”

Luke blinked a couple times, and Percy swore he could see the telltale glimmer of tears starting in his eyes. A muscle worked in his jaw, and suddenly Percy was worried that he’d said something horribly wrong. He had a talent for that, it seemed.

Fortunately, he was saved by the bell—conch shell?—and something like relief flooded through Luke’s expression. Tension still coiled in his body.

“Come on,” he said, that camp counselor smile coming back as he put his hand on Percy’s shoulder and guided him away from the enclave. “That means dinner’s about to start.”

Percy’s frown deepened as curiosity won out again. “Was she your—”

“You don’t wanna be late,” Luke continued, ignoring his attempt. “I assume you’re pretty hungry after two days spent out?”

Well, that only made him want to push harder. But Percy figured he wouldn’t get anything out of him—especially not now.

“…Yeah,” Percy said. “Starving.”

An odd look flickered across his face, but again, it only lasted for a second before he was back to normal. He cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled, “Eleven! Fall in!”

Percy was at the back of the line by virtue of him being the new kid, and he found himself looking back at that picture of Luke and the girl. He didn’t know why, but something drew him to her. Before Percy could think about it more, the line was moving and his growling stomach drew his attention away.

He would have plenty of time to ask Luke about it later.

Or rather, ask him and piss off the only person who’d tried to be his friend so far.

…Gods.

Maybe he was going to drown sooner than he thought.

“Luke—”

“No!”

“Luke, please!”

“Annabeth will kill me if she knows—”

“She won’t know!”

“Alright, alright— stay still, you two!”

Your mother laughed from behind the camera as you and Luke fought with each other, you trying your damnedest to get your Red Sox cap on his head as he tried his damnedest to stop you. The frantic laughter on both sides made it a little difficult for either of you to succeed in your quest, but eventually, you got the rock up the hill and the hat on his head.

“Take the picture, Mom!” you exclaimed, pulling Luke even closer by his arms so he couldn’t get it off. “I need the proof!”

“I knew this was a bad idea,” Luke groaned, staring at the camera as you wrapped your arm around his side and leaned into him. He could already imagine your victorious smile, brighter than the sun beating down on them in the stadium, and just the thought of it made one of his own flit across his lips.

“Oh, shut up, Castellan,” you said. “You chose to come to this game. Everyone’s gonna know you’re a Red Sox fan now.”

“You said you wouldn’t tell her!” Luke defended, wrenching his arms free of your control to take the hat off his head. “I don’t even care about baseball!”

“You care so much about it,” you said cloyingly, “and you’re ride or die for the Boston Red Sox.”

“If you say a single word—”

“Okay, kids!” Your mother pointed at the seats next to her. “The game’s about to start—you can keep arguing, but only if you sit down so I can see.”

“Sorry, Mom.” You grinned at her as you pulled Luke over to your seats—they were a step up from nosebleeds, but they were the ones closest to the balcony so you could at least peer over the railing down to the diamond.

“It’s alright, sweetheart.” She glanced at Luke with a smile, and he could really see where you got it from. “We’ve gotta make him a fan somehow.”

“I guess I can live with the brand.” Luke set the cap back on your head once you were seated, purposefully pulling the brim a little over your eyes, and he smiled at you. “Even though it looks better on you, anyways.”

“You just don’t have what it takes to be a Red Sox fan in the heart of Yank territory,” you mused, pushing the hat back up so you could see. “It’s fine.”

Luke rolled his eyes, but he could hardly bite back his smile.

“I am glad you came, though,” you said, glancing back at him. “I’m glad you came with me in the first place. This is gonna be the best semester.”

“Thanks for having me,” Luke said. “It’s… it’s been a while since I’ve left camp.”

“Fingers crossed for no monster attacks, eh?” You held up your hand. “At least, not during the game. I could live with it happening any other time.”

“Don’t speak it into existence,” your mom said. “We’re going to have a monster-free school year.”

To humor her, you made a claw over your heart and pushed out. She hummed in satisfaction, and you looked over at Luke. “It’s gonna be fine.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Because two kids like us aren’t gonna draw any attention.”

“Oh, I know we will,” you said. “But I know it’ll be fine.”

Luke frowned. “How can you be so sure?”

You shrugged with a smile. “I’ve got you.”

And in that moment, he was thankful for the freakish heat that honestly made no sense in the spring—at least it covered up any sign of what your words did to him.

Luke thought you were joking when you asked him if he wanted to come back home with you for the school year. He didn’t know why you wanted to go back in the first place, being a Big Three kid that apparently had a death wish, but the thought of him leaving camp was almost inconceivable.

Even after you assured him you weren’t joking, he still wasn’t sure. He was on the run with you for three years, then…

Well, he couldn’t think about it for too long. But Luke had been on the outskirts of regular society for so long, doing nothing but fighting for his life, that he didn’t know if he could actually function at a normal school.

But it felt right for you two to get some normal time together after you were separated for so long. It took him a semester to decide, but one day during your usual Iris message conversations, he told you he’d love to spend the rest of the year in Boston with you. Luke still remembered the grin you wore, your disbelieving but victorious cheers, the apology you yelled back at your mother for your noise.

Luke watched you as you talked with your mom, discussing Boston’s chances and player statistics and baseball jargon he didn’t think he’d ever understand, and he knew he would sit through a thousand Red Sox games if it meant he would get to keep seeing your smile.

You must have felt his eyes on you, because you glanced over at him. “Are you okay?”

Luke smiled. Gods, he was so glad you were here.

“Never better.”

“That one nearly got me,” Luke said.

Percy huffed as he picked up his sword from the ground—he was pretty sure he would officially lose his mind if Luke disarmed him with that stupid move one more time. One benefit to the Hermes cabin being too scared to associate with him after getting claimed was that he wasn’t making a fool out of himself in front of other people.

“Maybe I can only beat you when I pour water on myself,” he said.

Luke chuckled as he took a bottle from the cooler on the side and held it up. “Wanna try?”

He shook his head. “I think my arms will fall off if I keep going with you.”

He tipped his shoulder. “Fair.”

Percy stared at the ground as Luke gathered himself, trying to put the free range thoughts roaming around his head in order. It didn’t help that he’d gained a million questions after Poseidon claimed him, and it didn’t help that there’s been a newest addition to his dream last night.

He still felt strange asking Luke about it, but he had to know more about her. Percy didn’t know why it felt like his mission to find out who this mysterious girl was, or why he felt that strange connection to her. Maybe it was the way Luke acted whenever he brought her up, maybe it was that she’d popped up in his dream next to him at the very end, maybe it was just plain old curiosity.

“I’m not supposed to be alive,” Percy said, breaking the silence. “I could die at any time in a bunch of different horrible ways. So will you tell me more about that girl on your wall?”

Again, Luke seemed to be caught off guard by it. Percy heard the crunch of plastic as his hand clenched ever so slightly around the bottle, and he tried to cover it up with an arched eyebrow. “Why do you want to know so badly?”

He shrugged. What was he supposed to say?

“I’m curious,” he decided.

Luke huffed a dry laugh before he took a sip of water, and he stared off into the distance for a while. He did a lot of staring whenever this girl was brought up. They looked like they were best friends in those pictures, but maybe whatever they had ended badly. And if she was a demigod too…

Well, it would make sense why he didn’t want to talk about her.

“You know that phrase about curiosity?” Luke asked.

“And how it killed the cat?”

He nodded, drinking some more. “It goes double for demigods.”

“Everything else wants to kill me,” Percy said. “So curiosity’s gonna have to get in line.”

Luke’s laugh was a little more genuine this time, and he shook his head. “I guess I can tell you a little about her. You actually probably have a right to know.”

“Is she a half-blood?” Percy asked immediately.

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“Who’s her parent?”

Luke capped his water bottle and looked at Percy for a good, long moment. His face glowed in the warm afternoon sun, his scar cast in a softer light than usual. The scar used to unnerve him, but he’d gotten used to it after weeks staring at it during sword fighting.

“She was a child of Poseidon, Percy,” he said. “Just like you.”

Percy felt short of breath, like Luke had just knocked his sword out of his hand and shoved him to the ground. But he stood on his own two legs that somehow still worked, and Luke hadn’t moved.

He had a sister?

“I have a sister?”

“…Had,” Luke corrected. “She… she died a few years back.”

A vice latched onto Percy’s heart. He was still having a hard time breathing. No wonder Luke always used past tense when he was talking about her.

He had a sister, he wasn’t alone, but he was because she was dead. And if Luke was one of her friends, that meant she died young.

Gods.

“What about their oath?” Percy asked, trying to ignore the aching in his chest. “I’m already on thin ice for my whole existing thing. How did Poseidon get away with two kids so close to each other?”

Luke shrugged. “I’ve never known why gods do things. Her mother was a great woman, though—I could see what drew Poseidon to her against the oath.”

One half of Percy wanted to ask every question that kept popping into his head. The other side of him wanted to break down and cry.

“How did you meet her?”

“We ran into each other when we were both young,” he said. “Both child runaways, both demigods, both New Englanders—we decided to rough it out on the road together. Couldn’t be any worse than doing it on our own.”

Percy tried to imagine it. A young Luke and a younger version of that girl—maybe Percy’s age—living together in the wilderness and fighting monsters. Surviving off of nothing but their wit and skill, facing death each day before they’d even reached middle school.

“It… it didn’t happen then, did it?” he asked hesitantly.

Luke shook his head. “Couple years later. All we did was watch each other’s backs out there.”

Percy couldn’t help himself. “What happened to her?”

“The same thing that happens to everyone,” Luke said flatly. “There’s a reason I’m the oldest one here.”

“That doesn’t make it better,” Percy insisted. “It— it makes it worse, Luke. You see that, right?”

Luke stared at his empty water bottle then tossed it back into the cooler. When his gaze met Percy’s, he was shocked by how… tired he looked. Beyond exhausted—bone-weary. Percy wanted to say more, but he didn’t get the chance.

“This isn’t good conversation,” Luke said, “and it’s getting late. You should hit the showers before dinner.”

The sun still beat down on them, bright and angry in the sky, but Percy provided no argument. He had a lot to think about.

Before they went their separate ways, Percy stopped and looked back at him. “I’m sorry she’s gone, Luke.”

Luke’s gaze went unfocused for a moment, his eyes growing glossy. “So am I.”

Percy sat on the floor of the Hermes cabin in the corner that used to be his, staring at his meager belongings. He had to decide what to take on his quest, which was made easier by the fact that he hardly had anything to his name. Things could always be worse, though. At least he would have a change of clothes.

He should’ve been doing this in his own cabin, but it felt too empty, too suffocating in its silence. Eleven was still more familiar. He heard the door open and saw Luke walk in, and his eyes lit up when he saw Percy.

“Hey,” he said. “I wanted to see you before you left. How’re you feeling pre-quest?”

“Like the world’s about to end,” he said.

Luke’s lips twitched into a smile as he sat on the bed across from Percy. “Understandable. It kinda is.”

“It’s just overwhelming.” Percy shoved the unfolded clothes into his backpack. “I have to clear mine and my dad’s names and get Zeus’s bolt back, or else war will start. No pressure at all.”

“You were chosen for a reason,” Luke said. “You may not see it, Percy, but you’ve improved a lot since you got here. If anyone can do this, I think it’s you.”

Percy looked up at him, and he was reminded of the way their last conversation went. He was asking before he could really stop himself.

“I could die on this quest and never see you again,” Percy said. “So could you tell me more about my sister before I go?”

Luke smiled wistfully and sighed. “You really won’t let this go, will you?”

“It’s not really something you just let go,” he said. “Besides, I… I saw her in my dream last night.”

Luke’s smile faded. “You did?”

Percy nodded. “For a split second, but I know it was her. I felt the same way I did whenever I looked at her pictures. And… it’s the second time she’s shown up.”

He let out a long sigh and shook his head, his gaze trailing off to the wall. He always looked so much older when he talked about this girl, like he was a war veteran reminiscing on his lost love. And from what he’d gathered, it might not have been too far off.

“I told you we ran together when we were young,” he said, and Percy nodded. “We were both nine, and it should’ve been terrible, but she had a way of making everything better. Always found the bright side of things, was always able to make me laugh.”

“She was from Massachusetts—right in the middle of Boston.” Luke chuckled as he looked at Percy. “Huge Red Sox fan.”

Percy grimaced. “We all make mistakes.”

Luke smiled, though it faded a bit. “We got separated for a while, but we found each other again when I got to camp. Things were more peaceful than they are now, so she’d been claimed at camp pretty quickly. I figure Poseidon wanted her to have the protection of him openly standing behind her after what happened.”

He frowned. “What do you mean, ‘what happened’?”

Luke shook his head. “That would be an awful story to send you off on.”

Percy wanted to protest, but he didn’t. Luke was probably right—Percy didn’t want to make him relive it and then have to go on a death quest right after.

“A happier part, then,” he suggested.

“She ran away from home as a kid to protect her mom, but now that she had an idea of what she was doing, she started going back to school. She invited me to stay with her during the school year one year, and I accepted. That—” Luke’s throat bobbed, and the other hand clenched into a fist— “that was when she died.”

In his stunned silence, Luke got up and went over to his alcove. He pulled the drawer open on his bedside table and pulled out a neatly folded piece of paper. It must’ve been folded and crumpled a million other times in messier ways by all the creases he could see, but when Luke opened it, he could see handwriting all over the front.

A letter.

“We Iris messaged each other constantly while she was at school,” he said, “and we wrote back and forth when we couldn’t. This was the last letter she sent me.”

Percy’s first instinct was to say he wouldn’t be able to read it, but he realized that he didn’t really care. These were words that his sister wrote—he would sit here the rest of the day forcing sentences to make sense if that was what it took.

So he took the letter when Luke offered it.

To the one and only Luke Castellan,

My mom said yes! After a very long interrogation (she now knows basically everything about you) and a million promises that you would be as careful as possible and that you were good enough at sword fighting to take down anything that could come after us, she said you can spend the year here. We spent a couple hours every day making my mom’s study into a guest room, so you have a place to stay.

I’m an idiot that didn’t bring enough drachmas so that’s why I have to send this letter—hopefully it gets to you soon enough, because we’re gonna come get you a week before my winter break is over. Mom is letting me drive down because she says I have to get my permit soon. It makes sense that my first big test is getting to you. If we don’t make it, it’s because we died in a fiery crash.

Just kidding. I’m a great driver. But tell me some of your favorite songs when you reply and I’ll burn a CD for the ride—I figured out how to use LimeWire. Oh, and throw in a couple drachmas with the envelope so I can Iris message you next time. I miss your face and your voice, and my hand is cramping up writing all of this.

But this is so exciting! I can’t wait to introduce you to all my friends at school, and show you my favorite places in the city, and make you into a Red Sox fan. And you can come to my soccer games— I’m the greatest forward there is.

Jokes aside, I’m going to make sure you have the best time. We’ll spend every second together, Luke. We’re gonna make up for the time we lost.

I can’t wait to see you again.

Your hurricane.

It took Percy a long time to get through it with the words swimming all over, and it didn’t help that his vision had grown blurry.

Tears, he realized as he blinked, and he did it again to make sure they wouldn’t fall. He couldn’t cry in front of Luke, not over a girl he didn’t even know—even if she was his sister. But maybe he was grieving that—the fact that he would never get to know her.

“God, man. I— I’m sorry.” Percy couldn’t think of anything else to say. “She sounds like she was great.”

Luke couldn’t even manage a smile this time as he stared at the wall. Percy was surprised he could even talk to him about it.

“She was,” he murmured. “You would’ve liked her. And gods,” this time, a bit of a smile broke through despite it all, “she would have loved a little brother.”

“I’m gonna make her proud on this quest,” Percy vowed. “I’m gonna clear our dad’s name for her.”

Something in Luke’s gaze had changed—sadness, almost regret. “You’re a good kid, Percy. I hope your quest doesn’t change that.”

I hope I come back alive, he wanted to say. But given the topic matter, he didn’t. Percy carefully folded the letter back up and handed it to Luke.

“Thank you for telling me about her, man,” Percy said. “I… I know it can’t be easy.”

Luke let out a shuddering breath as he stared at the closed letter—Percy wondered how many times he must have sat in this same position, reading her words. “No better way to honor her memory than helping her brother.” He glanced at Percy. “I see a lot of her in you.”

He’d been wondering if he had anything in common with her. Percy felt a sudden flare of anger shoot through him—it wasn’t fair that she was dead. Poseidon was a god, and she was a teenager. He should have saved her.

Percy’s mouth was drier than a desert. A part of him wanted to curl up in a ball and sob over the sister he never got the chance to know, but the other part of him knew—from what little Luke had told him about her—that she wouldn’t want him to.

“I should get going,” Percy said, standing up from the floor. “We have to leave for the quest soon, and Annabeth and Grover are probably wondering where I am, and…”

Percy trailed off, and Luke nodded in understanding. He turned around and took one of the photos off the wall—one of you alone in the middle of a park, wearing a bucket hat and absolutely beaming.

“You deserve to have a part of her with you,” he said. “For good luck.”

He felt himself choking up, and he pushed it down as he accepted the photo. “Thanks, man. It means a lot.”

“Good luck, Percy,” Luke said. “You’ve got a lot of people rooting for you.”

Percy found himself studying the picture of you once he made it outside, trying to memorize your face. With your wide, infectious smile that emanated pure sunlight, he could have mistaken you for an Apollo kid. But when he looked at you, he got that same warmth that he felt every time he imagined his father.

“I won’t let you down,” he murmured. “I promise.”

After sleeping in his train seat for half the day, Percy vowed to never complain about his bed in Cabin Three again. He was gonna be going down to the Underworld with permanent cricks in his neck.

Grover was still sound asleep—Percy envied him for how easily it came to him in the worst conditions—but thankfully, Annabeth wasn’t. Her gaze was focused on the view as their train chugged along.

Percy cleared his throat in a flawless attempt at getting her attention, and it worked.

“You’re awake,” she said.

“Unfortunately.” Percy sighed. “How much longer do you think it’ll be?”

“Another day, at least,” she said. “And we’ve got a layover in St. Louis.”

“St. Louis,” he hummed. “Nice.”

They sat in silence for a while—there wasn’t much to talk about when they were coming off of two— or was it three, now?—near-death experiences. But eventually, Annabeth cleared her throat, taking a page from his book, and it worked again.

“There— there’s probably something you should know,” Annabeth said, and that worked even better than clearing her throat. “You’re not the only Big Three kid to come through Camp Half-blood lately.”

“I know,” he said. “Grover and Luke explained it.”

Her eyes widened slightly and she leaned forward in her seat. “Luke did?”

“…Yeah. You all already told me about Thalia.” Percy glanced away, suddenly feeling a chill in the train car. “Luke told me about my sister.”

Annabeth went silent.

“It’s okay,” he said. “I kind of annoyed Luke until he told me. Doesn’t really seem like a subject people at camp like to talk about.”

“I’m just surprised he did,” she murmured. “They were… they were close, Percy. Her death destroyed him—Thalia and your sister. All of it’s complicated.”

“Yeah,” he sighed, “I got some of that.”

“I only knew her for a year at camp, but everyone loved her,” she said. “She was nice. Popular. Always helped when she could, always had the biggest, most infectious smile on her face.” Annabeth looked down at her hands. “She didn’t deserve the fate she got.”

Percy didn’t think he’d ever grieved so much for someone he never knew. “But her and Luke—were they…?”

“Yeah,” Annabeth said, “they were a thing, later on.”

That seemed to be all she wanted to say on the matter. Percy decided not to push.

“How did you meet her?” he asked.

Annabeth’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I met her on the day I thought I would die.”

For the first time in her life, Annabeth Chase couldn’t think.

It had all happened so fast. One second she was running with Luke and Thalia and Grover, praying to her mother and any other gods that would listen to make the horde of monsters let up even a centimeter.

The next, she’d collapsed on the ground, never so grateful to have grass and dirt and dust in her face. But she could hear Luke yelling, barely able to make it out in her delirious state—she didn’t know when she’d last had a sip of water, and they’d been running for at least three miles—but he sounded hysterical.

She remembered her last clear thought: they weren’t going to make it.

But they had. They had, so why was Luke losing his mind?

Annabeth pulled herself up from the ground—how long had she been bleeding out of those slashes on her arm?—and looked for the rest of her friends. Luke wasn’t yelling anymore, instead arguing with someone she didn’t recognize in a bright orange shirt. Grover’s furry legs trembled as he stared down the hill they’d just gotten up, completely silent, and Thalia—

Where was Thalia?

Annabeth tried to get up but her legs gave out almost immediately, and steady arms caught her before she could fall to the ground again. Kind eyes served to ease some of her panic—she was older than Annabeth, maybe around Luke or Thalia’s age.

Thalia—

“Hey, you’re okay,” the voice said, and Annabeth’s attention was drawn back to you. “I’ve got you.”

“Where’s Thalia?” she blurted out, because now she couldn’t think of anything else.

Your brows creased and you glanced back down the hill—Annabeth did too, and she saw Grover and Luke arguing with each other. Or rather, Luke was yelling at him as Grover anxiously hooked his hands through his hair.

“I don’t know,” you said, “but right now, I need to make sure you’re okay. Are you hurt?”

Annabeth absentmindedly held up her arm, but she was only focused on her friends. Why wasn’t Thalia with them? Why was Luke so upset?

You cursed under your breath in Ancient Greek as you cradled her arm, and you looked back down the hill. Annabeth could see at least half a dozen other kids.

“We’ve got two half-bloods and a satyr, one injured!” you yelled back. “Get Molly and Brayden!”

“Three,” Annabeth found herself saying. “There’s three half-bloods—”

“Annabeth!”

Her head shot up at the sound of Luke calling her name as he bounded over, and her eyes widened at the blood steadily spidering across the fabric of his shirt.

“Luke, you’re hurt—”

“I’m fine,” he insisted. “It’s fine.”

“We have Apollo kids coming,” you said, looking up at him, still cradling Annabeth’s arm. “We’ll get y—”

Your sentence stuck in your throat, and Annabeth could see tears welling in your eyes as your brows furrowed. She thought Luke’s eyes might burst out of his skull as he stared at you, his lips parted but nothing coming out. Neither of you were able to form words.

When he finally did get something out, it was a single name. One Annabeth knew by heart, one that he’d mourned for years.

“Luke?” you whispered.

Before he had the chance to do anything, two teenagers got over the hill and called out your name, the same one Luke used. He always said you were dead, but you clearly weren’t dead, because you were here and you had her arm in your grasp and while your hands were cold, they weren’t cold enough to be dead—

“Molly’s gonna take care of you,” you said, looking back at Annabeth and cutting off her inner dialogue. “She’ll get you to the infirmary and heal you up, okay?”

“My friends—”

“They’re gonna be okay too,” you said. “I promise.”

Annabeth looked up at Luke, and he nodded. “We’ll be with you soon, Annabeth. We— we have to talk about some things.”

So she went with Molly down the hill, and Annabeth put pressure on her bleeding wound when she told her to—it had started to sting like hell now that her adrenaline was fading.

She looked back just in time to see you and Luke share the tightest hug ever.

The hug of two people who realized they weren’t seeing ghosts, Annabeth thought.

You bolted up in bed, eyes wide and your chest heaving as you rapidly sucked in air. Your fingers found purchase in your bedsheets, desperate for something familiar—it took a second for you to recognize your surroundings, that you weren’t in an endless void, but your childhood bedroom offered little comfort.

You ran a hand over your forehead, damp with sweat, as you tried to calm down. Your breathing slowed, but you couldn’t shake that awful feeling that hung over you in your sleep.

Your nightmares were getting worse, you knew that much. That raspy, demented voice used to be a rarity, and now it appeared every night. You could usually deal with your nightmares, but the sense of absolute dread that voice and the pit fostered in you was too much. You hadn’t managed to sleep through the night once since you came home for the school year.

You could deal with the monsters—to you, this was the worst part of your godly blood.

A knock rattled on the door out of nowhere, and you nearly jumped out of your skin. The only thing that calmed you down was the thought that monsters didn’t knock.

“Come in,” you croaked, your throat drier than a desert.

Thankfully, a monster hadn’t come to make your night even more miserable. Luke stood in the doorway, his eyebrows creased in concern, messy curls hanging just above his eyes. He wore the Red Sox t-shirt you’d bought for him at the game you dragged him to, and in your addled state, you didn’t even think to tease him about it.

“Are you okay?” He should’ve been as disoriented as you, but his alerted eyes told a different story.

You could only think of one thing. “How did you know?”

Luke’s lips parted for a moment, as if he hadn’t even considered it. “I could just feel it.”

You managed a smile despite every atom in your body screaming at you. “I think that means you can come in.”

He closed the door behind him, and you shifted over in your bed to make room for him. There wasn’t much in a twin, but you made it work. Luke’s weight pressed into the mattress, making you adjust your position, and it was more comforting than any amount of blankets.

“You’re so cold,” he murmured, laying the back of his hand against your arm. “How do you live like that?”

“Blame my dad,” you said. “I’ve got water in my blood.”

“I think that’s probably a bad thing,” Luke said, and you knocked your shoulder into his with a huff.

“You know what I mean.”

Luke let his hand fall back in his lap, and as you brought your knees up to your chest, you pulled the covers with them.

“So,” Luke said, glancing at you, “what’s got you awake at the witching hour?”

“The usual,” you mumbled.

“Nightmares that might be prophetic?” he asked.

You made a lazy gesture with your hand. “Bingo.”

“The worst sense of dread imaginable?”

“Bullseye.”

“I’m sorry,” he said.

You shrugged. “It’s nothing I can’t deal with.”

“You don’t always have to put on a front, y’know,” Luke said. You felt his eyes on you. “You don’t always have to be strong.”

“I’m naturally strong,” you said with mock austerity. “Comes with the god for a dad.”

Luke chuckled and shook his head. “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah,” you murmured.

You leaned into his side, fitting your head into the crook of his neck. Luke wrapped his arm around you, pulling you closer, and you let out a contented sigh.

That voice in your nightmares seemed so small when you had Luke.

“Can you stay?” you asked softly.

He didn’t hesitate. “Of course.”

“Just like old times,” you whispered.

“Just like old times,” he agreed.

Luke ran hot, and you’d never been more thankful for it as you fully settled into his side. Icy blood ran through your veins, and you let out a shaky sigh. You could hear his steady breathing, feel his heartbeat through his chest, and the anxiety from earlier began to steadily fade. You never felt safer than when you were with Luke.

There was something between you—you weren’t that stupid—but you hadn’t talked about it. With you and Luke, it was just… you and Luke. You didn’t have to put a label to it.

How could you put a label to your relationship, when you’d spent your first few years together fighting for each day, and then the next few thinking the other was dead?

Maybe someday, you would talk about it. But for now, this was more than enough.

“Don’t worry,” Luke murmured in your ear as your eyes began to droop. “I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.”

And by the gods, you believed him.

#reader is the mara of she ra the mikey berzatto of the bear the nellie crain of hill house DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan fic #luke castellan angst #percy jackson and the olympians x reader #pjo x reader #x reader #daughter of poseidon #child of poseidon #sadie writes

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ashfae · 1 year

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The thing about romance is, it makes a good story.

As soon as Neil described season 2 as "quiet, gentle, romantic" I figured we'd be in for it, because as he's the first to point out, writers are liars. And the best way to deceive is with truth.

Season 2 is romantic. The trappings of romance are everywhere. Crowley tries to set up Nina and Maggie by trapping them under an awning during a rainstorm, a classic cinematic bonding technique. Aziraphale's chosen method comes from his beloved books: the ball, the dancing, appearing as a pair in public, hands held as you twirl gracefully with your heart thrilled and racing. If they can set up a sensational kiss that will unlock the happy ever after. They've lived on earth, they've studied the tropes, they know how romance works.

The problem is a story is only a story.

Nina and Maggie had the classic romantic setup completely by accident before Aziraphale and Crowley ever began trying to interfere with them. They get locked in Nina's coffeeshop. They can't escape or communicate with anyone else, they end up talking by candlelight because there's no electricity, Nina offers wine. Maggie mentions how she'd hoped for a chance to talk to Nina, and now here they are. It's every bit as much a standard as what Aziraphale and Crowley attempt to arrange. Blanket scenarios galore exist because of that starting point. We love that story. And there's nothing wrong with that.

But it's still only a story, it's not enough. Because once that moment of connection is over, however lovely it was, all the rest of the world comes flooding back in in the form of dozens of angry text messages. Nina's messy entrapping relationship hasn't magically gone away just because she and Maggie shared a romantic encounter.

And it's so tempting think oh well, that's easy. We'll just give them more romantic encounters and eventually those will overwhelm the rest of the baggage. Must do, because it'll make them fall in love, and once they realize they're in love that trumps all other considerations, right? So it'll be fine. Love Conquers All.

Neil also mentioned Pride and Prejudice.

Darcy knows he's in love early on and makes a disasterous proposal that shows that he has no understanding of Elizabeth's perspective, possibly hasn't even thought about it. They've been meeting in forest lanes for walks, conversing, had tete-a-tetes in the sitting room, danced at a ball. And while his turn of phrase isn't as flattering as he thinks, he's still offering her everything he thinks she wants and needs: affection, security, his good name, wealth, an escape from the embarrassments of her situation, the world. How can there be anything to object to? Why would anyone ever refuse so much of value?

Elizabeth quite rightly cuts him to pieces. He lashes back with a few hard truths of his own and they separate. During that separation, he thinks and he learns. He takes to heart the criticisms she offered, re-examines his assumptions, opens his eyes. Thinks about her perspective and how sometimes the only difference between pride and arrogance is where you're standing. He does the work. When they meet again he tries to demonstrate that he's learned--not in order to court her again (yet), but because the only real apology he can offer, the only one that would have weight, is to show that he's grown, he listened to her. He changed.

Elizabeth of course has her own journey, accepting that many of her own conclusions about Darcy were erroneous because they were formed without her having the full picture to hand, and once she's done that she has to apply it to her own situation as well. She loves her family, but they do place her at a disadvantage on a number of levels, leading eventually to full-out disaster as her younger sister carelessly ruins all of their reputations. It's hard to admit, it's mortifying, but Darcy was offering her a great deal she needs. His offer did have worth for all that she dismissed it as an insult. And as she learns to value his own character more highly, and then as she sees that he did listen to her even though she insulted him so thoroughly...well, she grows too. And when they do eventually come together it's not because of courting and balls. There's a big romantic gesture in his rescue of her sister but even that isn't why they'll get their happy ever after. It was just the catalyst for the conversation. They win because they've learned how to understand each other and how to communicate for the future. How they can strengthen and support each other, how to balance their strengths and weaknesses. The films leave them at the wedding, but the book shows a bit of their marriage too, and during it they keep learning from each other. Their relationship is held up as a superior love story for good reasons.

The end of season one was romantic too. Crowley stopped time rather than face a world where Aziraphale would never speak to him again, Aziraphale walked into hell to protect Crowley, they dined at the Ritz and toasted the world. But then they stopped. Sure they spent time together, talked, enjoyed each other's company. But if they were talking about important things would Crowley still be living in his car? They had a bit of respite but all that real world baggage that exists outside of the romantic moment hasn't been faced, none of it. Four or five years sounds like a long while but for beings who are quite literally older than the earth? That's just an intermission.

Nina's relationship ends, leaving her with a tangled mess; Maggie realises the sweet dream of love she's been longing for isn't as important as the real Nina. They talk. They plan. Nina will sort through her life, get closure, figure out what went wrong with Lindsay and what she wants from a relationship, learn how to ask for respect instead of just bending under her partner's demands. Maggie will support Nina the way Nina needs, which sometimes means helping her get oat milk for the shop and sometimes means giving her processing space. They're on the same page; they're going to do the work. That's why most likely they'll succeed. To quote one of my favourite fanfics: it's not happily ever after, but it's a chance. It's all going to be okay. (The Profane Comedy by Mussimm, who absolutely nailed this theme)

The romance is nice, it's lovely. We need it to keep ourselves going. To give ourselves the dreams that help us get through the days and nights. But it's not the relationship. It's not enough on its own. The wedding can be the grandest most beautiful ceremony ever with doves flying and sweeping music and bells ringing, but that doesn't guarantee the marriage will last.

Crowley and Aziraphale have had their romantic gestures, oodles of them. One wing raised to protect the other from falling stars, another from rain. Shared ground, shared interests, hands offered in friendship and held on a bus. They've tried to get to the same page, they really have. They just aren't there yet. The biggest most important things still haven't been talked about, and season 2 showed there are even more of those big important things than we'd realised.

The show paints Maggie as Aziraphale's foil and Nina as Crowley's, even to the point of Nina casually calling Maggie 'angel'. But Aziraphale's baggage is Nina's. The toxic relationship has to be processed and understood and closed, and it hasn't been, despite season one. Lindsay never really liked Nina very much, for all that they tried to keep her trapped; Heaven never really liked Aziraphale very much for all that he believed in it. They both let themselves be used. But Lindsay left Nina and went to their sister's, whereas now the head of Heaven has reached out to Aziraphale and said here, we can fix this, you can fix this, don't you want to fix this? Others are already writing about that and maybe I'll add to it later, not sure. And Crowley, like Maggie, has had a sweet dream that he has to set aside. Maybe he'll be able to pick it up again eventually, maybe not. But sometimes you offer support by buying oat milk or rescuing your beloved from the legions of hell, and sometimes you do it by standing back while they sort through their shit.

Quiet, gentle, romantic. It was.

But that's only part of the story. Now they have to do the work. They thought they had, but they were wrong, because there's so much they just hadn't touched yet and tried to cover over with relief and sleight of hand and alcohol and forgiveness. The apology dance doesn't mean much without showing that you listened and learned. They've faced so much trauma already and that should have been enough, we wanted it to be enough and so did they and it's such a blow for it to turn out that there's still more to do, that the baggage hasn't just gone away and can't be hidden under blankets or soothed with cocoa. The texts are still coming in and demanding answers.

But it'll be okay. It will. It's still a chance. And one that in the long run makes them better, builds something real that lasts.

The best stories, the ones that last longest and become classics, are the ones that don't end with the kiss under the awning or the blanket scenario or the wedding. They're the ones that heal us while the characters heal themselves. It's hard to accept that there's still more to do. Harder to imagine how it can possibly work out. And yes, bloody frustrating to wait and see.

And we'll get through that interim by telling even more stories. Because the story is never just a story. It's how we get through the work, it's what we tell ourselves so we can do the damn work. Stories are what we cling to and how we remind ourselves we're human and connect. A book is a person you can carry with you. We're not alone, none of us, stories connect us because we love them and see ourselves in them, which means we see each other.

Aziraphale's back up in Heaven to deal with his unfinished baggage; Crowley left his behind long ago and it's clearly going to come back and bite him in the arse however much he tries to go his own way. And they can't help each other with that. Not yet.

But they'll get there. So will we.

#good omens #good omens season 2 #gos2 spoilers #good omens season 2 spoilers #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #nina #maggie #nina and maggie #stories #romance #relationships #am I projecting here #of course I am isn't that the whole point?#pride and prejudice #elizabeth and darcy #quiet gentle romantic #good omens meta

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rbfclassy · 3 months

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GIRLS ON FILM! — CHOSO KAMO

photographer!choso who just graduated university, broke and has no money. He starts applying to any jobs that are hiring, in dire need for money. He hopes to put his photography skills to use as it was something he studied in school. After two weeks of waiting for any places to call him, he gets a gig at a small photography studio in Tokyo. He immediately takes the job, smile on his face as he walks in with his camera in hand. They didn’t even interview or ask to look at his portfolio, they instantly put him on set, directing him around and giving him orders. He thought nothing of it until he saw you walk out onto the set, covered in silk robe, makeup and hair done. You quite literally took his breath away when you undid the robe, letting it fall to the floor, revealing your nude body.

The place that had hired him was nude photography studio. He couldn’t think straight, eyes glued to you as they ordered you how to pose, putting you in lewd positions that only made choso imagine how’d you look with his cock stuffed in you. He blinks his thoughts away, blush spreading across his cheeks as he averts his gaze from you. He raises his camera, angling it just right as he captures you in your most divine. Half lidded eyes staring back at him as your hands cup your tits. He snaps several photos, gulping when you change positions and arch your back, ass high in the hair. He starts to feel hot, his dick straining against his jeans as he struggles to breathe correctly. God, you were beautiful.

The entire photo shoot he never took his eyes off of you, following your figure when you walked off set in your robe. He clenched his jaw, encapsulated by your essence. It almost felt like it was just you and him in the room every time he snapped a photo of you. “You have the photos?” One the of the editors asked, snapping him back to reality.

“Oh, uh, yeah.” Choso fumbled with his camera, nearly dropping it as he pulled out the sd card. Just as the editor was about to walk away, Choso asked, “who is that?”

“You mean y/n?” The editor furrowed her brows. “She’s an upcoming model.” They turned back around, walking away with the sd card. Beautiful name for a beautiful girl. He looked down at his camera, licking his lips.

Choso went back home that night, his thought plagued with images of you. “Shit,” he groaned, noticing the hard on in his sweats. He palmed his cock, clenching his eyes shut to try and get rid of these disgusting fantasies he had, but it only made him see you again. Bending you over and plowing into you until you cry, or ruining your makeup as he fucks your face, taking a picture of you after for memories. Snapping a photo while you ride his cock, tits bouncing in his face. He wonders how you feel and taste. How could he crave something he’s never had?

Next thing he knows, his fist is pumping his cock, moans falling past his plump limps as his eyes flutter shut. He imagines your wet cunt squeezing around him, milking him for what he’s worth. “Y/n, y/n, y/n,” he babbles, biting down on his bottom lip as he tries to suppress his moans. His breath gets caught his throat as his abs tenses up, feeling how close he was to cumming. “Mmmm, fuck,” he moans. His wrist moves in circular motions, from the base to the tip as he squeezes a little harder. As he pictures his cum filling you up, dripping from your pussy, his entire body quivers as spurts of thick cum shoot from his head, landing on his hand and stomach. “Nnnngh—shit!” He can’t stop moving his hand, tossing his back onto the pillow in pure ecstasy. “Fuck me, baby, please!” Oh how he wishes you could hear how desperate he was for you.

#—☆classyrbf #anime #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #choso x reader #choso kamo x reader smut #choso kamo x reader #choso kamo #choso kamo x y/n #choso smut drabble #choso smut #choso x reader smut #choso kamo x you #jjk choso #jjk x reader smut #jjk smut #choso kamo smut #choso drabbles

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homunculus-argument · 1 year

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This is one of those ideas that someone's probably already done, but I came up with another concept for a game:

A game where most of the cutscenes are flashbacks of memories the protagonist has, and the "skip cutscene" button says "repress this memory". You can play through the whole game while skipping all of the cutscenes, you don't need to watch any of them to complete the main storyline and get the main intended ending.

But watching through them doesn't just give you a more thorough - and occasionally, even completely different - understanding of the whole game, and information that makes you see certain characters in a different light, but it unocks new options in the game. You watch through the cutscene flashback of the protagonist's mother doing something fucked up, and suddenly all your conversations with her now have the dialogue option to go "hey mom remember when [the fucked up thing] happened?"

This particular conversation branch doesn't seem to lead anywhere, she'll flat-out deny that the thing ever happened, and she calls you crazy for having ever imagined that, but later on you can stumble upon something else that you clearly saw in the flashback, that you couldn't have found out any other way. It's one thing to wonder why you would remember something that never happened, but how would you have known that this passageway was here, and opens exactly the same way you remembered it?

There are passages in the game that aren't required for the completion of the main storyline, that aren't blocked off by anything visible and obvious, but have text like "you cannot go through this way, this hallway is too noisy", and it takes a completely unrelated flashback for you to recognise what that specific sound reminds you of, which opens up a whole sidequest of you figuring out why you can't stand hearing that noise. Once you've made the connections and finally remember, you can go through the hallway. There's nothing on the other side that you need for the main quest, but things that may help unlock some other mysteries.

The main game is simple and straightforward, you can just play through that one and be done with it. But that's not the whole picture, the full story. There are answers peppered thorough the whole game, answers to questions you might not even think of to ask. Explanations of why the protagonist is the way they are, and things that make you see characters you interact with - and your interactions with them - in a completely different light. Most of the relevations are grim. The only question to ask yourself is

Do you want to remember?

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yuwuta · 8 months

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RODEO STATION, 2 — MEGUMI FUSHIGURO

A collection of you and Megumi through the years, through Gojo’s eyes.

content, warnings: childhood friends to lovers, canon-adjacent, satoru adopts megumi and tsumiki, reader has a cursed technique sort of delved into here

word count: 2.2k

part ii: you and megumi are ten, tsumiki is eleven, gojo is twenty-ish?, about six or seven months after gojo meets all of you, and adopts megumi and tsumiki. you can read part one here

The moment that Satoru met him, he knew that Megumi was a little troublemaker and there was little he could do to stop that. Satoru didn’t mind for the most part, and he couldn’t blame the kid either—honestly, he was more surprised that Megumi didn’t routinely get himself into more trouble, but he supposes he has you and Tsumiki to thank for that.

He’d naively believed that you and Tsumiki both played the role of anchoring maternal figure for Megumi, but it only takes a few weeks for Satoru to learn that it’s Tsumiki that serves as the anchor for you two. Satoru then earnestly wonders if you were bullying Megumi with the way you’re able to keep him under your thumb, but when Megumi adamantly refutes this with the nastiest, most offended scowl Satoru’s ever seen on a kid before, he backs off and reasons that this is just how your relationship with Megumi works.

And, as it turns out, Megumi is the only one doing any sort of bullying. He’s ten and Satoru has been to more parent-teacher conferences than any other parent has ever possibly attended in their lifetime. He didn’t even know that it was possible for kid his age to get kicked out of school, especially at this point in the year. There’s only three months left until summer vacation, so Satoru enlists Ieiri’s help in enrolling Megumi into public school to finish out fifth grade. She also reassures him that this separation from you and Tsumiki is temporary, and that you would all be able to attend middle school together again in the fall.

The major problem then becomes that you all get dismissed at different times. You and Tsumiki used to end your days at the same time, but Tsumiki starts staying late to take piano lessons. However, this is remedied by the mother of a friend of Tsumiki’s, who drives her home afterwards; an older woman that Satoru becomes eternally grateful for. Even so, you’re dismissed thirty minutes before Megumi, and some shuffling has to be done to align your commutes. Satoru knows that the three of you took yourselves to and from school before he came into the picture, and that most kids your age are more than capable getting home on their own, but after you told him that some old man from the Kamo clan came to talk to you after school one day, he can’t help but to worry.

Satoru isn’t your guardian, not in the way that he is for Megumi and Tsumiki, but that doesn’t mean that he doesn’t feel responsible for you—morally, financially, emotionally, and more importantly, for his own safety because he knows he’d have both Divine Dogs biting at his ankles if something curse-related happened to you and he didn’t do anything to stop it.

You were currently under the care of your elderly great aunt who hadn’t a shred of cursed energy from what Satoru could tell. He had Principal Yaga do a background check, and found no other sorcerers in your immediate family, nor any traceable Kamo relatives, and more importantly, you didn’t possess any sort of Blood Manipulation technique. Satoru’s seen what you can do so far to control water, has even seen you give the Divine Dogs trouble in a gentle sparring match—you’re impressive, even at your young age, so he can understand why a powerful clan might see the potential in you, but the Kamo clan isn’t historically welcoming of outsiders. If you’re not related to them, he can’t fathom why any member would physically approach you.

The old man never revealed his name to you, but Satoru’s certain it’s either a clan elder, or the current head himself; neither of which bring him any comfort. In the spirit of their traditional ways, he doubts anyone would actually try to harm you out in the open, but Satoru still wants to keep you on close watch for a little while. He thinks he’s the best man for the job. He’s quickly proven otherwise.

He exorcises curses with a bit of hastiness and little tact in order to be there when you get dismissed from school. Ieiri says it’s creepy to follow you from a distance, but Satoru is just doing what he can to protect you. If somebody else is following you, he wants to see who they are. They’ll never approach or reveal themselves if he hovers next to you, and if you half the pride that Megumi has, you’d run him out of town if he ticked you off by playing overprotective big brother—so, instead, he positions himself far enough away to observe you, and close enough to defend if need be.

He never needs to.

For as wild and boisterous as you are with Megumi and Tsumiki, you follow a simple, quiet after school routine. You walk with Tsumiki and her friends to the west gate to drop them off at piano practice, then cross the street to buy a snack—this differs, but you always get a carton of strawberry milk—and then walk to the train station. It’s a ten minute walk from your school to the station, and a fifteen minute walk from Megumi’s school to the station, which is why Satoru doesn’t quite know how the kid manages to keep you waiting for only seven minutes on average when he already gets out of school thirty minutes after you.

Once he gets over the initial shock, he can’t help but to be amused. He knows that when Megumi first changed schools, he started meeting you on the train, two stops later—at the one closer to his new school. But in the last week, Megumi has walked himself seventeen blocks east, at what Satoru guesses must be an inhuman pace, just to meet you at the station closest to you.

When two weeks have passed since the unknown Kamo elder has contacted you, and no other incidents have occurred, Satoru resigns his position as perimeter watchdog. He has a bunch of missions to catch up on anyway, and he figures that you and Megumi are safe in each other’s care for now.

A few weeks later, after catching up on his assignments, Satoru decides to check back in. He knows he doesn’t have to, but something in his stomach is telling him to. Maybe it has to do with the fact that the curse he fought earlier today had some kind of toxic blood that has him thinking the worst could happen to you, or getting a call that Megumi had been cutting some of his classes, or that he’s tired and delusional and worried and scared, or maybe it’s just his blooming maternal instincts telling him something is wrong, but he rushes to spy on your commute home.

He’s late. Megumi isn’t with you, and you’re already on the train when he makes it to the station and he can sense two sources of cursed energy trailing way too close behind you just as the train doors shut. His mind is racing irrationally—is this an unusual move by the Kamo clan, or perhaps someone else? Word had certainly gotten around that he’d picked up Toji Fushiguro’s kid, plus another kid with immense cursed potential, and Satoru himself and the Gojo clan have more than enough enemies. Whatever it may be, he doesn’t take his chances, using his newly honed short-range teleportation skills to make it to the next station before the train can.

He’s panting, thinking about every worst possible scenario at once, wondering how to best deal with whoever or whatever was targeting you, especially in such a crowded place, wondering if you’re safe, if Megumi was safe—why wasn’t he with you? Has someone already gotten to him, too? Was Tsumiki even at piano practice? Oh god, if he hasn’t already been kidnapped, Megumi is totally going to kill him if something happens to you.

Satoru rushes onto the train as soon as the door opens, eyes wildly scanning for you through the crowd, ready to strike when he finally finds you—seated towards the back of the car, reading the book that Tsumiki had loaned to you, quietly, and both the black and white Divine Dogs sitting on either side of you.

And Satoru has to laugh at himself. If he’d stopped for even a moment (or if he’d gotten more than two hours worth of sleep in the past three weeks trying to make up all his assignments), he’d have recognized Megumi’s residuals, would have recognized the energy of the dogs, and would have pieced together that there wasn’t a single threatening aura in the vicinity.

Oopsies.

“Gojo?” you call to him, not too loud as to not to disturb everyone else’s commute. “How come you’re here?”

Satoru shuffles through the crowd and holds onto the overhead rail once he’s next to you. The white dog moves to settle underneath your short legs, blinking at him with disinterest. “Got off a little early today, thought I’d surprise you brats, that’s all,” he says, then motions to the dogs next to you, “Where’s Megumi?”

You blink at him. Satoru knows you probably don’t believe him, but you spare him the embarrassment when you don’t push it further. “He had to make up a credit today, so he’s getting on at the next stop. Do you want a sandwich? They only had ones with peppers today, so Megumi won’t eat it, but Mr. Teuchi gave me two, anyway.”

“What, is he allergic or something?” Satoru questions, accepting your offer, and the seat next to you when he starts to unwrap the sandwich.

“No, he’s just picky,” you tell him, closing your book to unwrap yours, too. You’re quiet, taking your first two bites, before you turn to him again, “How did you know Megumi was missing?”

Satoru chokes. It gains him a few concerned stares, and even a pointed ear from the black dog, before he regains his composure. “Um... he tells me usually he follows you home from the other stop, that’s why.”

“Then why didn’t you try to surprise us at the other stop?”

Satoru pauses again. Since when did ten year olds get so lippy and observant? “I did, but I was late. So I sort of,” Satoru leans down, crinkling the empty sandwich wrapper in his right hand and uses his left to beckon you towards him to whisper, “Teleported here.” He pulls back, prideful, and crosses his legs, “Pretty cool, right?”

“So, why didn’t you just teleport to the first station when you realized you were going to be late?” You question, mocking his whispering tone when you repeat the word.

“Hey, you think doing that kind of stuff comes automatically? I can’t just pop up anyplace at any time,” Satoru groans, a bit overdramatically, “Not yet, anyway. I’ll be able to do that soon.”

You hum, kicking your legs happily as you take another bite out of your snack. “I think I get it. Megumi says it’s hard spreading out and controlling your cursed energy over long distances, but he’s been practicing hard. He can send the dogs way far away from him now.”

“I see,” Satoru turns his chin down, eyeing the Divine Dogs with a gentle smile. He almost says that it’s easier to send shikigami on their own, especially those like Megumi’s, and particularly when you anchor them to another source of cursed energy such as yourself, but you look way too proud of Megumi for him to burst your bubble. He also declines to say that Megumi probably doesn’t send the dogs to you on days like this just for the sake of practicing.

A crush isn’t quite exactly the motivation Satoru pictured when he told Megumi he’d have to work hard and get strong, but whatever works, works.

Ten minutes later, the train comes to a steady halt. Megumi is the first new passenger on board, and unlike Satoru, he doesn’t need to turn his head wildly, every which way to find you. You’re like a beacon to Megumi, he easily finds the both of you in the last seats in the car, and steadily makes his way to you.

Megumi greets you before he greets Satoru, taking the seat across and facing you before he turns to the taller man with a much less receptive frown, “What are you doing here?”

“I believe the word you’re looking for is hello, Megumi,” Satoru teases, reaching across to ruffle his already unruly hair. Megumi grumbles, batting his offending hand away.

“Gojo ate your sandwich,” you chirp.

“What?” Satoru yells, incredulous, “I did not. You gave it to me—tell him!”

You have much more fun watching Satoru scramble than defending his honor. It’s only when Satoru gives his best pout that you admit to Megumi that you offered up his sandwich, consoling him with the fact that it included his least favorite ingredient and making it up by pulling out two cartons of strawberry milk for him. Megumi accepts them both with quiet thanks, cheeks growing pink to match the cartons, and you smiling widely when he takes his first sip.

Satoru had a hunch those were for Megumi. So, this isn’t one-sided. Good for you kids.

It’s another twenty-six minutes before it’s time for you all to get off the train. The Gojo-Fushiguro residence and your great aunt’s house are in opposite directions, but are both just a short five minute journey from the station exit. One you can certainly make on your own, and still, Megumi insists that you let the dogs walk with you and that he’ll release them once you’re home.

“It’s good practice,” Megumi mumbles, shooing you on your way uphill, “I want to know how long I can keep them out, too.”

You have that same look on your face that you had earlier, like you don’t quite believe Megumi, but just as with earlier, you don’t say anything, sparing Megumi and Satoru a formal goodbye and a wave before heading home. Satoru and Megumi turn to walk back to their own house, he can’t help but to smile every time Megumi turns his head to look back at your silhouette.

Satoru decides that you’re not Megumi’s anchor, you’re the lighthouse that guides him to shore, a light that he follows with faith and reason; a safe haven that Megumi seeks to protect. Satoru can admire that, but he wonders what happened that could make the most unruly kid he knows pledge his allegiance like that. Megumi would have refused Satoru’s aid if he hadn’t agreed to let you stay in his life, and although he’d chalked it up to puppy love before, Satoru’s beginning to wonder if there’s anything he, or anyone, even could do to separate the two of you.

Likely not, he concludes, when two weeks later, your class goes on a field trip and Megumi is the one who comes home exhausted and crashes onto the couch immediately. When Satoru asks, all he gets is a tired grunt; but shortly after Megumi falls asleep, he can feel a few extra shadows at his feet, and a glimpse of the white dog before she completely vanishes into the darkness.

Satoru chuckles, leaning down to ruffle Megumi’s hair before heading to the kitchen to make a snack for Tsumiki. If this is the rate that Megumi trains to keep his loved ones protected, then Satoru has no worries about him getting strong enough to keep up with him.

#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk fluff #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen smut #megumi fushiguro x reader #megumi x reader #megumi smut #megumi fluff #jjk scenarios #jjk smau #jjk fake texts #gojo x reader #jjk imagines #jjk fanfic

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loveinhawkins · 7 months

Text

ao3

It’s the last day of school before Christmas, and the first thing Eddie hears when he enters Family Video is Steve Harrington saying, “Fuck this,” which seems kinda unreasonable; he’s not even done anything yet.

But then Steve continues, his voice turning distant as he heads to the back of the store—“I don’t care what the goddamn handbook says, the radiator’s goin’ on full blast,”—and Eddie realises he hasn’t actually been noticed at all.

Not by Steve, at least.

Robin Buckley is standing by the computer. She’s checking her watch; Eddie can see the thought cross her mind, that he should’ve been out of class over an hour ago, like she was.

All of a sudden, he feels uncomfortably aware of what he must look like: drenched from the rain, dripping water onto the carpet.

“Hey, Munson. O’Donnell got you working overtime, huh?”

Eddie fakes a laugh. He doesn’t know Robin that much—but still just well enough to know she doesn’t mean anything by it.

So he nods and rolls his eyes, concocts a story about an unjust detention; he even embellishes it with a pinch of truth as he brings the video tapes out from the shelter of his jacket. Says that his last-ditch attempt at improving his grade before the holidays was offering to return the videos O’Donnell rented for her classes.

He doesn’t mention the fact that he stayed behind voluntarily. That he spent all that time staring down at a perpetually unfinished essay, gripping his pen with an all too familiar desperation. That kind of honesty somehow feels more embarrassing than lying; it always has.

Robin takes the videos from him. “Okay, tell me if that works,” she says, with a hint of sarcasm; she’s joking, Eddie reminds himself, but not in a mean way. “Because I’d be returning, like, so many library books if…”

She trails off with a frown, eyes on the computer screen. Glances to the stack of video tapes before punching in something.

Eddie doesn’t mind the wait; it’s only now that he’s really appreciating just how cold he is. He shakes some water off his jacket sleeve, fingers numb, and realises too late that he’s creating a puddle on the floor.

“Uh, sorry for, um. Dripping,” he says awkwardly, but Robin doesn’t seem to hear him; she just keeps frantically tapping on the keyboard.

Outside, the wind picks up even more, throwing rain against the windows.

There’s the creak of a door swinging open somewhere in the back, followed by a voice calling, “What’s up?”

Eddie startles—he almost forgot that it wasn’t just him and Robin in here. He watches Steve sidle up to the register.

“It’s this stupid—“ Robin gestures to the computer with frustration. “It keeps going all, you know, aaaah.” She draws out the sound, wiggling her fingers.

Surprisingly, Steve catches Eddie’s eye with a wry look. “Technical term,” he says, deadpan.

If Eddie didn’t know that he was the only other person in the room, he’d think that surely he’d been mistaken for someone else.

Not that he thinks Steve would ignore him outright; it’s just that they’ve not got much history—no fleeting camaraderie forged from sitting next to one another in class. Sure, they crossed paths as much as anyone did in Hawkins, Steve a recurring figure in Eddie’s peripheral; he knew of his existence, obviously, it’s Steve Harrington, but nothing more than…

A collage of all the times Steve’s picture has appeared in the school newspaper flickers through Eddie’s mind. Okay, but that was because of The Tigers, and the swimming team, and—anyone would’ve noticed that—

His justification is brought to a halt at a particularly fierce howl of wind; Robin flinches so badly that she knocks the video tapes onto the floor.

“Just the wind,” Steve says quietly.

As he speaks, he gently nudges Robin out of the way with his hip. Picks up the fallen tapes.

And to anyone else, it might seem kind—and nothing more.

But there’s something almost imperceptible in the way Steve does it, Eddie can’t get away from that fact: a meaning behind the words that he can’t grasp.

Then he hears Wayne’s voice in his head—son, you know fine well when something’s none of your damn business—and tells his curiosity to quit it.

“Sorry, it’s still not working,” Robin says, giving the computer one last thump. “I can, um, write you a receipt? To prove you returned them? So O’Donnell doesn’t get all…”

Eddie nods. “Sure.”

Robin gets a pen out of her shirt pocket and writes a receipt, triple-checking the movie titles as she does so.

Eddie thanks her as she hands over the paper. Catches himself hesitating.

There it is: the familiar prickle of discomfort, not knowing what else to say. Jesus Christ, isn’t that a failure on its own? Another year at school, and you’d think he’d be somewhat closer to other students, just from the sheer amount of time they’ve spent together in the same four walls. And yet, he’s starting to feel more distant than ever.

Granted, there’s Hellfire, but on bad days even that chafes, not that he’d ever admit it. Like he’s playing a part far bigger than who he actually is.

Eddie expects to just walk out without another word being said. In fact, he’s bracing himself for the cold again, almost at the door, when Steve inexplicably speaks up.

“Are you actually leaving?”

Eddie turns around. Steve’s leaning by the desk with his arms folded, looking at him expectantly.

Eddie’s half-convinced there’s a joke he’s not getting.

“Uh, yeah?” he says. He tries to ensure that ‘what the fuck else am I supposed to do?’ goes unheard, but from the way Steve’s eyebrows rise, he doesn’t think he succeeds.

Steve gives a pointed, dubious look outside. “Dude, you wanna drown out there?”

Eddie rocks back on his heels. There’d be a time where he would really snap back at that (the first time he flunked out, maybe), but now he’s more caught off-guard.

So he just glances outside and says, “Ideally, no.”

Steve gives a slight huff of laughter at that, shaking his head.

“Look, I’m just saying, man, I’m not gonna be driving till it clears up. Thought I was gonna need a canoe just to get into the parking lot.” He turns to Robin as if looking for agreement, stacking the tapes Eddie returned as he adds, “I said that when I drove you in, right?”

“I dunno, I’ve had crazier journeys,” Robin says.

Steve rolls his eyes like she’s made a corny joke—but he’s grinning like he just can’t help himself.

Eddie watches with a flicker of amusement rather than irritation, which catches him unawares. If he was honest, he’d felt drained not even a few seconds ago. But seeing Steve and Robin’s back-and-forth sparks an unexpected urge to respond in kind.

“Since when were you the spokesperson for road safety, Harrington?”

Robin snorts.

Steve shrugs. “At least wait until it’s not so brutal out there.”

And what brings Eddie up short is that, despite the dry tone, Steve sounds sincere. It leaves him struggling for an acceptable reply.

Before he can work one out, Steve steps to the side and pushes a swivel chair with his foot, right into Eddie’s path.

Eddie sits down in silent bewilderment.

He braces instinctively for an unbearable awkwardness, but it’s not so bad: Steve and Robin just continue working. It gives him time to try and dry his jacket off, at least, and when that ends up a lost cause, he turns to noticing the background noise in the store.

There’s a TV overhead playing It’s a Wonderful Life; George Bailey and Mary Hatch are about to Charleston right into the swimming pool.

Steve wanders into his eye line, scanning the aisles with a clipboard. Eddie doesn’t actually know how long he’s been there. He’d kinda got caught up in watching the movie. Steve seems to notice that; it’s gone too quick for Eddie to be sure, but his lips might’ve quirked, as if in approval.

“Hey, d’you want me to take your jacket? I’ve got mine and Robin’s on the radiator in the back.”

Eddie does his best not to stare. It’s a habit he’s still not shaken off: waiting for the other shoe to drop when anyone apart from Wayne is so… so…

“Didn’t realise this place was a hotel, Harrington.”

Despite his misgivings, he shrugs off the still damp jacket; Steve’s already stuck his hand out for it.

“Not everyone gets this treatment, Munson. You just haven’t annoyed me yet.”

��Then what am I doing wrong?” Eddie returns flatly.

This time Steve’s smile is obvious.

“Don’t move my scarf off the radiator!” Robin calls as she wheels a trolley of tapes.

“What do you take me for?” Steve says.

He disappears into the back again, returning empty-handed when the phone rings. He mutters at it before he picks it up, “Yeah, of course you still work,” and it’s not endearing, Eddie tells himself. It’s not.

And no, he isn’t listening in to the phone call. That’d be… that’d be stupid. It’s just that the movie isn’t all that loud, so he can’t help but…

“Hello, Family Video? Oh, hi, Mrs Wilcox, how are… Mm-hmm. Mm-hmm.” Steve listens to whatever’s being said on the other end. His eyes find the TV, and then he’s silently mouthing along to George and Mary singing, ‘Buffalo Gals.’ “Oh, are you kidding? No, no, stay inside. It’s not a problem, I can just—yeah, of course. I’ll push it back to after the holidays. Yeah. Yeah, you too. Thanks for calling. Enjoy the movie!”

He hangs up, absentmindedly humming. Eddie quickly looks away.

He notices then that he’s sitting right on the edge of his seat like an idiot. He makes an attempt to sit back—be normal, just be fucking normal—but there’s a rigidity he can’t quite shift, that’s been stuck there probably since middle school, when the cafeteria was full of whispers, did you see the new kid? There, the one with the buzz cut.

“Steve, you off the phone?”

“Yeah. Hey, Rob, if I forget, could you make a note to extend Donna Wilcox’s rental? I’ll do it when we’re back, if the computer’s—”

“Sure, sure. Um, so—”

“Oh, God, what?”

Robin grins, a mixture of sheepish and teasing. Eddie stays put. Has she forgotten he’s here? Should he move? Leave? Yeah, he should leave, they’re not gonna notice… He’ll grab his jacket, slip away; the weather’s not that bad—

“I’ve got something for you to—”

Steve waves his hands in disagreement. “Nope, we said we weren’t doing presents!”

“It’s not really a—my grandma wouldn’t listen, Steve, it’s, like, more of a punishment, honestly, just—just wait there.”

There’s a clatter as Robin rushes off, scattering some more tapes off the trolley. The employee door slams shut behind her.

Steve tsks to himself, but picks up the tapes again. As he bends down, he glances over his shoulder with a brief ‘what can you do?’ sort of expression—which forces Eddie to consider the fact that he hasn’t been forgotten.

He doesn’t know how to feel about it.

He settles for an attempt at nonchalance: sticks a foot out to spin the chair ever so slightly, just side to side, and says, “So, uh, is this job just throwing tapes on the floor?”

“Yeah, we take turns,” Steve says without missing a beat.

He scoops up a tape, twirls it deftly before slotting it into place on the shelf. Eddie should probably find it annoying.

He doesn’t.

In the silence, he tries to lose himself in the movie again, at least a little bit, but he can’t manage it—feels too aware of himself, the creak of the seat as he moves even the tiniest amount, the restless fidgeting that he doesn’t even want to be doing, but knowing that never helps him stop—

“Ta-da!”

Eddie turns in time to see a blur of red; Robin’s just thrown something at Steve, who catches it easily—of course he does, Eddie thinks, but he can’t pretend that the thought comes from a place of resentment, not even inside his own head.

It’s a sweater. Steve unfolds it with a cackling laugh; there’s not a trace of the artificial veneer of high school in the sound.

Unlike you, whispers a nasty inner voice.

Steve’s still laughing. “Robin, this is the best—”

“Shut up, no, it’s so bad.” Robin hoists herself up to sit on the desk. “Grandma did the actual work, all the bits that are messed up are from me—”

“You knitted this?”

Steve beams. Eddie notices that there’s an endearingly crooked tilt to one of his incisors.

And then Steve’s glancing around like he’s checking no-one else has come into the store. He ducks out of view of the windows, but is still very much in Eddie’s view as he throws off his work vest, yanks his shirt up over his head, and…

Eddie suddenly feels like he’s been flung back into the claustrophobic space of the school locker rooms, the dread of changing for phys ed. The voice in his head gets louder: don’t look, don’t look; they’ll know.

But Steve doesn’t seem to care. He just leaves his shirt in a heap on the floor, wincing overexaggeratedly at the cold, and practically dives into the sweater with a boyish glee.

He laughs again; the sleeves are far too long. “I love it.”

“You do?” Robin says, and while she’s playing up her dubiousness, Eddie can hear how she’s pleased underneath it all.

“Uh, yeah!”

The back of Steve’s hair is ruffled from how eagerly he put the sweater on—but instead of fixing it, he focuses on artfully rolling up his sleeves.

Eddie should look away. Should, at the very least, attempt to appear like he’s zoned out, in a world of his own.

And yet…

Despite everything, he watches Steve Harrington with all the silent, rapt attention he usually reserves for movies.

Moth to a fucking flame, Eddie thinks, resigned.

“Suits me, huh?” Steve says to Robin; he does a stupid little move, one hand on his hip, like he’s on the front cover of a magazine.

“And you’re modest, too.”

“You just don’t know style when you see it.”

Steve’s at the desk now, nudging one of Robin’s feet playfully, before turning round to lean against the corner again. “Hey, Munson, what do you think?”

Eddie finds himself fighting the instinct to reply with something undeservedly cutting. He’d just be trying to cover, anyway, using barbs to conceal what the question makes him feel: something akin to the franticness when confronted in class with a test he hasn’t studied for.

And he looks. Really looks—his heart slowing, the initial panic from the flash of bare skin fading away.

Steve’s right; the sweater does suit him, in all its homemade charm. The shade of red is flattering, brings out his eyes: maroon, if Eddie had to put a name to it, although he suspects that the colour’s actually got nothing to do with it, more the way Steve holds himself—a quiet, certain confidence that’s always been out of Eddie’s reach.

He inwardly gives himself a shake as Steve and Robin keep waiting on his response.

This isn’t school, idiot; they’re not trying to catch you out.

“I’m hardly an expert on high fashion, Harrington,” Eddie says—thinks he just manages to pull off the lazy, unbothered drawl.

“Well, you have a look,” Steve says faux delicately, like he’s being incredibly generous.

Eddie cracks a genuine smile; it sort of weakens the whole aloof thing he’d settled on, but he surprisingly doesn’t care all that much.

“Damned with faint praise.”

Steve scoffs as if to say touché. His gaze catches on something outside, and Eddie wonders if it’s an actual customer, if it’s time for whatever all of this is to stop.

But all Steve does is poke Robin’s foot and add, pointedly singsong, “Rain’s stopped.”

“So?” Robin asks.

“I think it’s in between storms,” Steve says sagely. “Like, we’ve got a little window before more rain hits.”

“Great, Steve, I’ll love waving that opportunity bye.”

Steve tuts. “Rob, I’m saying we should ditch. Come on, it’s been dead all day. We can be home early and warm, it’s, like, single-handedly the best plan I’ve ever had.”

Better than when you won the championship game? Eddie thinks—wisely keeps that strictly to himself, because he’ll admit following Hawkins High’s basketball results on pain of death.

Robin looks torn. “I don’t know, Steve, what if—”

“Who’s gonna tell?” Steve says, gesturing around at the empty store. He nods at Eddie, says sarcastically, “Oh yeah, Eddie Munson, known snitch.”

“You flatter me,” Eddie says. He surprises himself at how easily it slips out, like for once, there was no need to overthink it.

“See? Rob-in,” Steve wheedles, “come on, I’ll cash out. You and your grandma could knit for hours.”

“Shut up,” Robin says fondly. “Fine! Quick, quick, I’ll flip the sign.”

The whole thing resembles a military operation, with how speedily Steve and Robin manage to close the store. Eddie stands up and moves the swivel chair out of the way, but feels almost exposed without it.

Steve’s just finished at the register when he catches Eddie’s eye. He snaps his fingers, “Oh, shit, yeah,” and yells over his shoulder to Robin in the back room, “Hey, pick up Munson’s jacket, too!” Then he’s stuffing a couple of tapes into a backpack. “Want one?”

Eddie blinks, confused. “What?”

Steve wiggles one of the movies in demonstration before zipping up his bag. “I always take some home. As long as you have it back by, uh,” he waves a hand vaguely, “some time in the New Year, whatever.” He clicks his tongue. “Damn it, forgot to turn this off…”

It’s a Wonderful Life falls silent.

Through the whir of it rewinding, Eddie speaks almost without meaning to. “Can I have that one?”

Steve looks up at him in faint surprise. “Sure. Hang on, I’ll just find…”

He ejects the tape and passes it to Eddie. It’s still warm from being played.

And then the case is being handed over, too—there’s scraps of paper folded in the corners, rolls of receipt in Steve and Robin’s handwriting: games of tic-tac-toe and movie recommendations.

As Eddie puts the tape inside, a thought occurs to him. “Wait, uh. Were you gonna take this one home, too?”

Steve’s folding up his discarded shirt and vest. He smiles, and if Eddie didn’t know any better, he’d think there was something shy in it.

“Oh, nope. I—” He laughs under his breath. “I have it already.”

The back door bursts open to reveal Robin all wrapped up in a scarf. She throws Eddie his jacket, jangles some keys and imitates Steve’s half-singing when she announces, “I’ll lock up.”

The wind’s thankfully died down so the contrast from inside to the parking lot isn’t terrible—though that’s probably helped by the fact that Eddie’s jacket is warmed right through from the radiator.

As he gets to the van, he expects that Robin and Steve will already be out of the parking lot. But when he slides into the driver’s seat, he sees Robin’s the only one actually inside Steve’s car; Steve’s half-in, half out, one hand on the roof.

“Safe journey, Munson!”

And maybe it’s just how Steve’s voice is anyway, but it sounds like it’s more than just a platitude. Like it means something.

Eddie honks his horn in reply. He lets Steve drive out first—his car’s parked closer to the road—and absentmindedly drums his fingers on the VHS case in the passenger seat.

This was a fluke, he tells himself. Like a movie being played in last period, the curtains drawn—how it always feels kind of like a dream.

Still, he drives home warm. Thinks in a gentler voice, one that sounds like Wayne—a reminder that not everything is a trap waiting to spring shut on him.

#featuring the anxiety of growing up gay in a small town #quiet magic in the last day of school #realising ‘oh i think i finally get who you are.’#eddie munson fic #pre steddie #steddie fic #steve and robin #eddie and robin #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #steddie

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bambiesfics · 7 months

Text

Opposites Attract Theory - Ellie x Bimbo!reader

Ellie was everything you weren’t. She was a girl in brown plaid button ups, who could only find comfort in wearing her father’s oversized chocolate suede jacket. She could hardly be described as sweet or adorable, not like you were. Ellie was reserved, masculine, angry, and traumatized. Ellie smoked cigarettes to keep her nerves at bay, cut chunks off of the ends of her hair when they got too long and feminine, spent all her money on tattoos if she wasn’t spending it on you, wore old men’s weathered leather shoes, painted her nails with the cheapest black polish just so they could chip on purpose, and tucked her strap into her pants because it just felt right. No more, no less.

All of those descriptions she’d agreed with, but just one word was missing. The word ‘provider.’ The aspect of her character that she prided herself on the most, was being your provider.

You were her opposite, the light to her shadow. You were naive, sweet, bubbly. Your eyes were big and curious, and you asked every question earnestly. You bounced around in your cute little outfits. Low cut tops with your tits spilling out, dresses where the wind exposed the chub of your ass, and skirts so short they showed your plump little pussy, eating up your g-strings; outfits that made you easy prey for leering. You got your nails done, and showed them off by grabbing Ellie’s thick cock with both hands while sucking hard on her tip. You bent over to pick up dropped items because your acrylics made you clumsy, and squealed when your girlfriend smacked you square on your ass. You got little Brazilian waxes, and sent pictures with a smiley face saying “still a bit sensitive but do you think it looks pretty Els?” And you were shocked that she pounded you into the headboard later that day, until your vagina was puffy. You sat on Ellie’s lap when she beckoned you too, but never quite figured out that it was because she wanted you to feel her erection sandwiched between your ass. You pranced outside in thin little pink shirts that showed the outline of your plump nipples and areola, and started pouting when Ellie draped her jacket on you before she let you step out of her car.

You pouted about how your girlfriend was “too overprotective” but you were a ditzy, trusting airhead, who had the IQ of a care bear. Ellie didn’t have a choice, you were too stupid for your own good. Too sugary and sweet, sissy and girly.

You needed a guy like Ellie to pick up extra shifts for you, so you could go on your little shopping sprees, to buy lip gloss and candy. You needed a guy like Ellie to come everywhere with you, so creepy fucks would know that the pretty little bimbo had a gaurd dog next to her who would snap, snarl and bite them. You needed a guy like Ellie to run her tongue around your little pink hole, twitching and hungry, just to prepare that tiny hole as a warm place for her cock to sink into right after. Her balls often found themselves smacking against the bottom of your puffy neglected clit. You needed a guy like Ellie to indulge your little airhead babble, your piss poor attempt at conversation or even saying a coherent sentence. God knows you could yap for hours and say nothing of note, nothing anyone would perceive as highbrow or thought-provoking, but Ellie loved it. Loved watching those plump pink lips smack together to talk about dumb little girl topics like “love island” or how “your pinks don’t match” or “beauty guru drama.”

And Ellie loved to indulge that clingy, pouty, needy little attitude you had around her. She’d bounce you up and down her cock, to shush your sniffles after she snapped at you. She’d rubbed your back, and promise to get your nails done just so you’d get overwhelmed with joy and cry “Ellieeee” in her arms, she’d wipe your pouty tears off your cheeks when you couldn’t take her cock all the way down, and tell you that you’ll get so much better after lots n’ lots of practice, she’d let you baby her when she was sick, and pretend that your poorly made chicken soup was the cure for her illness, and not the fever medication she’d been knocking back for the past week, she’d indulge your repetitive airheaded questions like “Ellieee, why can’t we print more money?” and “Ellieee how do you know you can see me? What if you’re you’re just imagining me?,” and she’d let you curl up with her brown jacket at night, cause it smelled exactly like her and brought you comfort in those days she had too many back-to-back shifts and couldn’t stay with you. That jacket was her fathers, so for her to leave it with you, meant that she wanted to take care of you in a way he’d be proud of.

You were Ellie’s dumb little bimbo doll. Her pink hole to use as a fleshlight, her set of plump lips to watch suction around her dick, her sugary little ditz.

But you were also Ellie’s future wife, the future mother of her kids. The woman who provided the the most gentle balance to Ellie’s rough edges and hard lines, the woman who was her emotion support, her pillar, the grounded rock that she’d cling to during her rapid river emotions. In turn Ellie would be your guard dog, your emotional support, your girlfriend, your boyfriend, your husband, your wife, your butch, your provider. She’d be whatever you needed.

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arlertwhore · 1 month

Text

pairing: paige bueckers x fem! reader

warning(s): nsfw/18+, fighting (verbal/physical), toxic relationship stuff, fingering, thigh riding, pussy eating, squirting,

synopsis: the bitchy, possessive, and temperamental gf who paige thinks she can handle proves her right!

word count: 2.4k

Author Note: got my first lil hate comment the other day 😜 i feel like an actual writer now lmao! here goes draft #6, comin’ in lit 🔥

Fuck knows what you're complaining about this time. She's straight from practice — from a rigorous, exhausting, and intense practice, frustrated with her own performance, only to find you waiting at the door, already irritated about something entirely. Perhaps it was how she didn’t answer you at all today—or how you saw her looking too close for comfort to another 'fan' as she claimed, though you never trusted it—or maybe she even fucking sighed at you the wrong way upon entering through the door because the littlest of things ticked you off—you—her bitchy, demanding, and infuriatingly sexy girlfriend, whom Paige has to constantly remind herself she willingly got involved with, knowing full well she was signing up for the being the figurative property of the brattiest, bossiest, most high-maintenance girl on campus.

"Are you even listening to me?!" you fume as Paige storms past you, stripping a trail of her clothes all the way to the bathroom, letting her hair fall loose from its low bun as she saunters away from your chaos, massaging her temples.

"Seriously, Y/N, now's not the time, I gotta-" - "I don't give a fuck!" you explode, chasing after her and grabbing her arm to spin her back around. "I don't care about your shitty day or your shitty excuses. Why the fuck didn't you text me back, hm?" Paige sighs, avoiding your eyes with an air of exasperation, her gaze shifting to the ceiling in an attempt to not roll them. At her silence, you feel your anger boil over, frustration evident in the clenched fist at your sides and the tense set of your jaw. "You're the fucking worst, Paige!" you snap, "You think just because I'm understanding that means you can take pictures with all these other bitches, post all on your Instagram, but then NOT text me back!"

Paige knew she was the man, the kind of person who could handle any challenge, which is why she thought dating someone like you—a real piece of work—would be a good match. She believed you could keep her on her toes, pushing her to become mentally stronger, more confident, and dominant—qualities she hoped would shine on the court, but on days like this, when you demanded drama and chaos, she wondered if she was truly cut out for it. Her honest, no-bullshitting, no-pretense attitude of: My girlfriend is so sexy opinion? Nah. And she promptly proved that stance when she spat out, “Alright, I’m sorry, baby… Is that what you want me to say? That I’m sorry I have things to do and you act like a bitch about it?” her voice venomous and defensive, stunning you. “Man, get the fuck out of my way right now. I don’t feel like fighting with you, for real,” she demanded, trying to brush past you. You couldn’t believe she actually spoke to you like that—she was usually so considerate of your feelings. In a fit of rage, you squared up to her and pushed her back by her shoulders with a strength you didn’t know you had over the 6ft wall of strength she was. Growling, you commanded, “You’re gonna stand here until WE’RE done talking!”

Paige stands with her hands on her hips, clenching at her sides with such restraint that her basketball shorts ride up, revealing her boxers underneath. She warns, "Stop playin' with me, yo. Step aside." and as she advances again, trying to get to the bathroom door behind you, you block her path, arms crossed and eyes flashing. Sneering, you challenge defiantly, "No. What are you gonna do if I don’t step aside, P? Hm? You gonna hit me?"

She takes a deep breath, drops her head, and shakes it exasperatedly before a light chuckle escapes her, broad shoulders bouncing. “Whatever, ma,” she mutters, turning around and picking up the clothes she’d left scattered on the floor. “I’m gonna go shower at Mikayla’s — forget this.”

You don’t have enough time to be angry about her saying she’s visiting Mikayla’s house—the slut you’d warned her to stay away from. Instead, you sprint to the front door, grab her keys off the rack, and hide them behind your back. Coldly, you say, “You’re mine, Paige. Turn around and get your ass in bed, NOW! You ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

Paige knows you and your past well enough to recognize that you aren’t joking about this possessiveness. However, she’s far from intimidated at the moment. Instead of backing down or appeasing you like she usually does for her princess, she glares at you with a fiery defiance. Her voice is firm as she refutes, “Give me my keys, Y/N.”

You gaze at her, a smirk forming on your face as you watch her façade of nonchalance crumble. Her face turns a subtle red, veins bulging in her hands as she holds them open, waiting for the keys, her lips curled inward and cheeks hollowed. She stands there expectantly, like a statue, until you bristle as she seizes your wrist, slamming it against the door while reaching for the keys with her other hand. Instinctively, you counter with your free hand, pushing her away. She’s lost her calm and collected demeanor. It’s scarier how she doesn’t run but still chases you with the relentlessness of a predator. Her eyes blaze with determination as she follows your running with a steady, purposeful stride. You taunt, “Come and get it, doggy! Yeah, you little bitch!” luring her toward the bathroom, the only room in the house with a lock, and Paige knows exactly what you’re up doing. Just before you can slam the door in her face, Paige lunges for it and forces it open, stepping inside and backing you against the door. This time, she tries a different approach to get the keys—she clasps your waist, holding you in place with her knees pressed against your smaller legs, effectively immobilizing you. As she tussles with you for the keys, you keep a tight grip on them. The struggle is fierce, and you're both panting in each other’s faces, exchanging only ragged breaths. You finally manage to break free from the bathroom and run for the bedroom with Paige hot on your heels. As you glance over your shoulder to see where she’s at, you realize too late that she’s no longer focused on reclaiming her keys. With a swift tackle, she takes you down onto the bed, pinning you there and forcing you into submission. The keys fall out of your hand, but Paige remains on top of you, her anger unrepairable as she growls, “Wanna bitch at me like that when I’m tired?” Her big hands begin to untie your nightrobe. “Wanna piss me off when I’m trying to be nice about things?”

She moves with an almost animalistic quality, yanking you down the bed by your legs and sending your clothes flying off with the force of her pull, baring your body to her hungry blue eyes. She hisses against your neck, “Little bitch?” and you nod rebelliously, “Yeah..fuck,” you heave, “look at you, so pissed, hm?” Her words are unbearably sexy when she vows, “I’ll show you a little bitch.” Mere moments later, she’s seated on the edge of the bed, with you draped over her lap like a ragdoll. You’re writhing, still trying to resist, biting and clawing at her thighs, but Paige’s grip is unyielding. Under her strength, you’re completely powerless.

Her hands spread your ass open, giving her a clear view of your dripping pussy. She chuckles cockily, the smirk evident in her voice even though you're not looking at her when she drawls, “This is why you’re really bitchin’ out, huh, ma?”

You whine at her words, stuttering and squirming, “Let me go, Paige, f-fuck!”

She tuts dismissively. “Aw, but that’s not what you really want, baby... you just need this pussy fucked, don’t you? To get fucked back to your senses—make you my good girl again, my princess...” she purrs, her fingers sliding through your slick and teasing your asshole. Then you hear the dirtiest, most sinful suck of fingers in her mouth you’ve ever heard.

Hips arched high with her strong arm restraining you from running, pressed firmly into your lower back, punching pressure deep within and outside of you, all aligning on the inside, she works her fingers into your soaking wet cunt with precision. She curls and bruises against your walls, relentlessly hitting that spot that makes you squirm like a torture puppet and cry out, "Ah!" for your dear life.

Her smarmy, taunting response? “I know, baby, I know, fuck… too tight for it, I know,” she bellows, feeding off your whimpers and whines with a sadistic delight. That smirk on her face—the one you wish you hadn't turned back to see—tells you she's savoring this victory a little too much and has no intention of letting you go anytime soon, even if you've clearly accepted that you're the little bitch. “Please,” you plead, sinking your nails into her thigh, but it doesn’t seem to perturb her in the slightest—if anything, it only eggs her on, makes her devilishly speed up. “It won’t happen again—I-I won’t act like a bitch anymore, daddy, I’m sorry,” you submit, hoping for some mercy, but she’s unforgiving. She chuckles darkly, yanking you up by your hair so you’re forced to look her in the eye, even if hers aren’t fully focused on yours, watching how your tits bounce as she fucks you senseless. “One more time,” she stares at them, biting her bottom lip with a smirk before she refocuses and demands it sternly. Without hesitation, you repeat it louder before she even finishes her command: “I won’t act like a bitch anymore, daddy, I’m sorry!” She smirks, her grip tightening. "I know you won't. Not after I'm done with you." She releases your head, and you fall forward hard, your back arching under what feels like tons of weight as she drives into you overwhelmingly, making you cry out in shock. "Shit!" you gasp, involuntarily pushing back against her long fingers to soften the blow and the jam, so forcefully that your ass claps with each thrust as she fucks into you.

“Say my name, baby, who’s fucking you,” Paige demands. You groan, clenching around her thick, long fingers and spilling spurts of slick arousal as you pant, “You, Daddy!” Paige tilts her head, unsatisfied. “Nah.” Her hand, once forcing down your back, quickly wraps around your throat, clasping firmly as she whispers, “Tell me, Ma.” With the blonde holding you tightly, despite your attempts to escape, with no leverage, she easily grips you by the throat like a puppet, forcing you back onto her fingers with insane speed and force. She thrusts into you even faster, your clit now grinding against her thigh. You hike a leg up in a desperate attempt to run or crawl away, but she's got you firmly in place.

“Paige! Paige, Paige, Paige, you’re fucking me!” you cry out.

“And you like it, baby? Like how my fingers feel fucking that tight pussy?” she taunts, flexing her leg muscles and increasing the friction.

“Aww shit,” you moan strainedly, feeling the familiar coil in your stomach emerge. Your body still tries to crawl away, but your brain forces you to stay put, losing all the air inside you.

“Stop fucking running, ma, take it,” she commands. “Take it, baby, just cum for me, kay? Cum for me, give me your cum.”

You listen to the sound of your cunt, feel it pulsing and clenching around her fingers before you give up and stop fighting and allow all the pleasure crash over you, your body convulsing as your orgasm hits. You gasp and cry out, surrendering to the intense sensation as your cunt tightens rhythmically around her fingers, your clit throbbing against her thigh. She fucks you through your orgasm, continuing even after that, giving you no recovery time, no chance to catch your breath before she has you on your back, legs still spread and a wet mess beneath you. Leaning in, she murmurs, “Be good for me, be still, kay? Let me clean you up—jus' lemme taste you, baby.”

Your hand comes up to cover your face, crying out as you feel her tongue glide through your folds. Gripping onto her hair tightly, you sob—a genuine cry from the overstimulation. Through your tears, you manage to gasp, “Fuck, baby, it hurts so good, ugh!”

You shout and clamp your legs shut, burying her with a guttural scream once her fingers scissor your folds and hold them open, her tongue flicking exactly against your clit, making direct contact.

She pries your legs open inhumanly, like an uncaring monster, her voice resounding and vibrating in your cunt, "Hold your ankles in the air." a command.

You obey, and she’s even nice enough to help, her strong arms holding your legs apart as she laps and slurps up all your cum like she’s parched, her swallows audible and incredibly sexy.

You look down at her and watch her head shake around wildly, losing herself in the abyss, entranced. You try to push her away by bucking into her face, hands occupied, but you end up unintentionally pushing her closer instead. You whine out desperately, your toes, nipples, and cunt especially on fire. "Pl-PLEASE!" you gasp, "I c-can't, I’m gonna—" Her fingers replace her tongue on your clit, while her tongue dips inside you as she murmurs, "Mhm," You cover your face, and the last thing you hear before you pass out is the frantic noise of her tongue fighting to slip even deeper inside you. There’s the sound of a leak, then the subsequent opening of your eyes after what feels like days. You look down at your girlfriend to find her face glistening in a pool of arousal, juices smeared everywhere. Her first instinct? To lick around her mouth, trying to savor the taste as she smiles at you smugly, knowing she’s clearly gotten her point across to your fucked-out self.

Needless to say, Paige has proven herself to you as she knew she would always: she is NOT someone to be underestimated.

MASTERLIST

AUTHOR NOTE #2: uhh so i reread this and i just wanna know if anybody else reading this who writes, is it crazy i reread my own work and blush at it like a viewer 😅 am i a freak guys 😅😅😅 do you do that too?? ANYWAY GUYS PLS INTERACT WITH ME ILY ALL MWAH!

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