#but thank you to everyone who's enjoyed this little series!!! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

idksmtms · 2 days ago

Text

You Are Not One of Us (Poseidon x Norse Goddess!reader) - Part 9

Full Request

Part 8 << PART 9 >> Part 10

AN: I am so so so sorry it took me so long to get this out omg. First it was life, then it was uni, then writer’s block and just aaaa! Thank you so much to everyone who has been reading this and keeping up with it since it started. I am so thankful to all of you!!! I hope you enjoy this and get ready for the final part of the series!

Summary: Percy learns the ways of camp, meets new and… interesting people, and embarks on a quest that will change his life.

Word count: ~10.8k

Trigger Warnings: she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, profanity, innuendo, age gap (even tho they are both thousands of years old), personal insecurity, absentee parents technically, abandonment issues, angst, kidnapping, depictions of someone being held against their will, way too heavy use of dramatic irony, any warnings associated with Percy’s adventures, (please let me know if I missed any)

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Percy Jackson and the Olympians characters. I do not claim to own any of the Percy Jackson and the Olympians characters. I do not own any pictures used nor do I claim to do so. (I do use some scenes from the show verbatim but I did not write the dialogue for those scenes, only the descriptions attached.)

Always appreciate comments, likes, and reblogs :)

Percy heard the soft rustle of a voice on the wind. Surely he had imagined it, he thought, gazing around the darkness of the woods, the shadows in the leaves and the sudden quiet that had descended once more. But he would swear on his life that he had heard a quiet “Perseus…” whisper in the wind. He shook his head, wiping at his eyes to make sure any trace of tears and pain had disappeared, before tossing the contents of his little fire onto the forest floor and stamping out the embers.

Night had descended on Camp Half-Blood and everyone had taken to their cabins. While a quiet chatter still emitted from the doors of each cabin, the grounds of the camp were mostly still and silent, disturbed only by the occasional stamping of hooves from the pegasus stables, and Percy Jackson tiredly making his way to the bathrooms.

He turned the corner around the (rather magnificent) bathroom building, only to be faced with Clarisse, arms crossed, stern look painted on her face. Another two of Ares kids stood behind her, a pack of wolves.

“Hey guys! Can’t sleep, huh?” Percy joked, though the hairs on his arms rose.

They were quick to pounce on him, grabbing him by the arms and hauling him into the outhouse cabin as Clarisse watched on nonchalantly. They threw him to the floor, and he grunted as he fell back, hitting it with a smack. He turned onto his back, palms pressed down as he gazed up at her. He felt a bit like an ant about to be squashed under her boot.

“Every new kid shows up here and they think they’re special. Do you think you’re special?” Clarisse asked, nudging her chin forward as she waited for a response. Percy frowned, glancing around at all of them.

“No?”

The two with Clarisse grabbed him under the arms and hauled him to his feet, the one to his left grabbing at his hoodie. He struggled, grunting as he tried to push them off, but they were built of steel, immovable.

“Tell me you made it all up about the Minotaur, and I’ll let you go.” Clarisse came to stand right in front of him, staring him down. Percy frowned in confusion.

“I didn’t make anything up.”

Clarisse glanced between the two kids holding onto him, then gestured to the stall with her head, barely a movement. They began to haul Percy toward it, each of them groaning with the effort. He struggled, his feet just about scraping the ground. Clarisse sighed as she watched on.

“Some kids gotta learn the hard way.”

The boy to his left kicked the back of his knee and forced him down to lean in front of the toilet. The smell of detergent and water and that distinct porcelain toilet smell began to overwhelm him. He was desperate now, disoriented and desperate to escape. He could hear Clarisse’s sinister chuckle behind him as she watched on like some sick dictator taking pleasure in her clever torture methods.

They forced his face down to the toilet bowl, right to the edge of the seat. His nose began dipping down just under it, a hair’s breadth from the water. He closed his eyes, willing for escape, willing for strength, anything to get him out of this hellish predicament. When suddenly, the water was sucked back up into the pipes. He heard it, carefully prying his eyes open and seeing it quickly fall through the hole and disappear.

The two kids let him go and quickly stood up and moved back. The sound of water gurgling was suddenly rumbling under the cabin. They all stood still and listened. It was like a flash. The water shot out of the toilet and above Percy’s head as he crouched down to avoid it. It seemed to separate into three tendrils, smashing through the walls of the stall and turning into swirling columns that attacked each of the others standing just outside.

They were shoved into the walls, onto the floor by the door. The water was quick to dissipate, falling onto the floor in a splash. The three Ares kids looked like drowned rats, drenched and dripping in damp shirts and jeans, shoes that squelched as they gasped and tried to find their bearings.

Percy slowly unfurled from where he was crouched by the toilet bowl. Water was bursting out of the sinks, the floor was slippery and slowly turning into a lake. Even the sprinklers had burst open and poured down on them. He stood up straight, shaking, hoodie dishevelled from the roof treatment and stared at Clarisse as she shook the water off her hands. Her hair draped around her face, limp, and she glared at him with the power of a thousand suns. She was quick to run after her already fleeing companions.

Percy watched after her, slowly stepping out of the stall, shoes drenched and splashing through the rising water on the floor. He looked around him at the destruction, at the fountain spouting from the right-most sink. He almost gasped to find a girl with long braids leaning against the door, arms crossed, watching him.

“I can explain,” he began slowly. She huffed.

“No you can’t.”

“Okay,” he breathed out. He glanced around awkwardly, but he couldn’t keep his eyes away from her for long. He soon realised why.

“Wait, I know you.”

“No you don’t.” She answered instantly, shaking her head as she looked at him with something akin to disdain.

“Yeah, but you were there. That night in the infirmary.”

“Yes. I’m Annabeth.” She introduced herself like it was a given, like she was the most Annabeth Annabeth an Annabeth could be.

“Are you stalking me, Annabeth?” He asked, eyebrows furrowed. She thought for a moment.

“Yes,” she shrugged.

“Okay,” he said slowly, nodding his head. “Why?” She seemed almost annoyed that he would bother asking her why.

“Well, I’ve been waiting to see if something like this,” she gestured to the room with her hand, “would happen. So I’d know if you can help me.” She shifted and leaned more firmly against the wall.

“Help you do what?” Percy asked, shifting a little closer.

“Win Capture the Flag.”

That was the last thing Percy expected her to say.

Percy gasped for air, glancing between Luke’s celebration and the pebbles on the beach. His entire body seemed to gasp for air. Fighting Clarisse, breaking her spear, it was almost like the Minotaur all over again. His blood was thrumming, the cut on his cheek burned, but… he felt alive. He had known exactly what to do, how to move. Instinct. The conflict of emotion rose within him, and all he could do was stand there and pant.

“Not bad, hero.” His head shot to the left, but he could only see the treeline. A moment later the air shimmered and Annabeth appeared, pulling a Yankees cap from her head as she strolled down to meet him. He frowned at her, still panting.

“Were you here the whole time?” He asked incredulously.

“Yes,” she responded, as if it was obvious.

“You were here the whole time and you didn’t help me?” He asked, almost yelling, shocked and angry.

“Yes,” she shrugged, again, behaving like this was obvious and normal.

“Why?!”

Annabeth simply stepped forward and held out her hand to him. He looked at her, at her hand, then with a grunt, reached out and grabbed it, allowing her to help haul him back to his feet. She looked into his eyes, suddenly serious.

“Listen…” she trailed off. “Percy.” He stared at her, eyebrows twitching into a frown of confusion. But she just shook her head and frowned in frustration, “I’m sorry,” and shoved him in the chest.

He went reeling back, stumbling over his own heels and slamming straight into the water. It was barely knee height, but he splashed and flailed for a moment before lifting his head and chest up to stare at her in astonished frustration.

“What is wrong with you?!” He yelled, loud enough for the rest of team blue to turn away from their celebrations and stare at the pair of them.

He struggled to his feet, standing in the surf, and about to make his way back onto dry land when Annabeth began running her eyes over him. He felt it, an almost tingling feeling in the places he had been cut. He reached up to his cheek, gently grazed his finger over his cheekbone, but there was nothing there, only unblemished skin. The bruises and cuts on his arms seemed to wash away with the water, the dirt and blood dripping away as if it had never marred his body in the first place. Percy examined his arms then looked at Annabeth in fearful confusion.

“I don’t understand.”

But Annabeth wasn’t looking at him. Her face, soft in triumph then awe, was tilted up to the space above his head. He noticed a soft glow of light fall over his eyes and he leaned back, looking up at the space above his head. There, hovering over him was a glowing blue trident. It was like some high-tech hologram, sharp and clear. Annabeth huffed out a chuckle as she looked at it.

“Your dad’s calling.” Percy glanced back to look at her, before realising that every person in camp had their eyes fixated on him. Luke and Chris turned away from the flag, staring at the sign above his head in shock as Chiron slowly made his way down the beach. He looked as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing as he gazed down at Percy.

“You have been claimed by Poseidon, Earthshaker, Stormbringer.” Chiron announced, continuing to stare at him as if Percy had just grown wings or done something else that would be considered actually impossible in this impossible world. “Percy Jackson, son of Poseidon.”

A gasp ran around the camp. A murmur arose amongst everyone watching, hands coming up to shield their mouths as they whispered to each other.

“This is impossible.”

“How is this possible?”

“Poseidon… was he ever known for having affairs?”

“I thought he had never had a demigod child. Like… ever.”

“Has this ever been mentioned in any of the old stories?”

“What about Poseidon and…? I thought the whole story of her betrayal and banishment…”

“Poseidon was only known to ever take one lover…”

“But the old stories about Poseidon and…”

“What is everyone whispering about?!” Percy burst out, staring with wide wild eyes.

“Come, Percy, we have much to discuss,” Chiron gently gestured to the boy. But his mind was racing behind his calm eyes, because if there was one thing to know about Poseidon other than his domain over the sea, it was that he was a god who loved only one…

You were not sure how to describe your prison. It was a prison in your own mind. A room with no door. Stark white. A roof that both closed in on you, yet was an endless sea of white… Walls that did not permit you to escape, but if you reached out to touch them, only a white expanse was bare before you. Except one. One wall was an eye, or at least, what an eye would see. Like those huge screens humans had invented. You could watch your son, your Perseus. You could watch him live his life, watch him struggle through the ins and outs of camp, like a fly following him around, watching everything so you could watch him too, like a never ending play or a film. It was torture. It was a blessing.

You were curled up on the floor, your head on your hands as you watched the girl shove him into the sea. As you watched your husband, the love of your life, do what you could not. Your eyes welled up, pain and joy fluttering together in a dance in your chest. He knew of his father. At least he knew of his father. You stared at the glowing symbol of Poseidon. Your heart called out desperately for him. Your mind screamed his name, over and over. Wished only for him and Perseus. Only for him and Perseus. Only for him and…

Mr. D sat in the glass attachment of the Big House and sipped from a Diet Coke as he stared off into space. The news of Percy’s claim had reached him. A son of Poseidon. How intriguing…

He had been there, of course, that day so long ago that it blended into the long-reaching fabric of time. Though he had been rather tipsy off his own wine, he had still been there to welcome the Norse gods. And though he was perhaps not the most observant of gods, anyone could have seen the way Poseidon had become enraptured with you. But who could deny that? You were beautiful and kind, you had even had Hermes vying for your heart back then. But Poseidon had been triumphant, of course he had been.

And it was… different, between you and Poseidon. Even him, deep in his cups, could note that. You had returned for him, glowed with a love for him that would make Aphrodite and Eros jealous. What you and Poseidon had found with each other, no other gods could boast of that. Even after your banishment, after the separation of the Greek and Norse gods, Poseidon had held onto you. He could tell.

At first it was because he was sure you two were meeting despite the danger. Though Poseidon had fought the banishment with his entire heart, had raged at Zeus for so long, he had sort of, calmed down after a while. His fighting was not so pronounced, as if he had found some peace somehow. It was only plausible that the two of you had found each other again. But then, millenia later, Poseidon had become stony-faced once more. He stayed secluded to the sea, only returning to Olympus for the most dire of matters, not giving into Zeus, losing any… whimsy he may have once possessed. It became a dark picture.

So to see Percy Jackson appear now, a son of Poseidon… Well, something didn’t quite add up. Poseidon would not have been disloyal. He would not have strayed. The love he held for you was not so easily swayed. It was simply not possible that Percy had a human mother. Or a mother other than… you.

Mr. D turned his head to look out at the water and chewed lightly at his lip. He wouldn’t say anything yet. He feared others may have already begun to connect the dots. Because if what he suspected was the truth… then Percy was nothing so simple as a forbidden child…

“As a forbidden child of the sea god, you are singular amongst demigods. And your father’s only hope to prevent the outbreak of war.” Chiron stood with his back to the windows as he looked down at Percy. Percy still wasn’t quite used to craning his neck back to look up at the centaur. “For months now, Zeus and Poseidon have been locked in a dispute over the master bolt. The symbol of Zeus’s authority. And it has been stolen. Again.”

“What do you mean, again?” Percy asked, head tilted and face scrunched up in confusion.

“It was stolen once, a very long time ago,” Chiron sighed, looking out the door behind Percy wistfully. “But…well, that’s another story for another time.”

“Who stole it?” Percy asked, hoping to keep the conversation on track. He wasn’t sure where this was going.

“You did.” Mr. D answered, arms hanging at his sides as he nodded toward Percy.

“What?” Percy frowned, looking between Mr. D and Chiron. How was being claimed by Poseidon not the weirdest thing to happen to him today?

“Zeus is looking for a thief, sees a forbidden child claimed by his jealous brother… It doesn’t look good for you, kid.” Mr. D gestured to Percy with his hand, shrugging.

“I didn’t do anything!”

“Of course you didn’t,” Chiron soothed, looking at Percy with soft eyes. “But, your father needs your help. An ultimatum has been given to him by Zeus, that if he doesn’t return the bolt by the summer solstice in 1 week… there will be war.” Chiron paused, and the gravity of his words began to settle over the room. War. An immortal war… “That is your quest. You must leave immediately.”

“Leave?” Percy looked up at Chiron, the frown on his face deepening. “Leave for where?”

“Zeus is king on Olympus, and Poseidon has always resented it, but there is a third brother, who has always deeply resented them both.” Chiron shifted a little.

“It’s Hades,” Percy mused, his mind running through all the old myths Aunt Sally used to tell him. Myths… he couldn’t really call them myths anymore, could he?

“Yes.” Chiron nodded, threading his fingers together in front of him.

“The bolt is with Hades. In the Underworld.” Percy voiced slowly, mouth moving stiffly over the words.

“I know it sounds daunting,” Chiron looked down at him sympathetically, almost ready to gently pat him on the shoulder. “But you won’t be alone. A quest is always undertaken by three.”

“Great. Good luck finding those guys, cause it ain’t gonna be me.” Percy shook his head, holding up his hands and ready to begin backing away. He did not sign up for this. None of this was necessary, at least not for him.

“Poseidon has claimed you. This is his will.” Chiron said it with such finality, as if it was a given. But Percy wasn’t ready to go down without a fight.

“Poseidon has ignored me my entire life,” Percy bit out, jaw clenching as anger began to rise up in his chest.

“You are his son.” Mr. D jabbed his finger at him, as if that answered every possible query.

“I am Sally Jackson’s son,” Percy shouted, glaring at Mr. D. He wasn’t going to let some random god come in here and claim to be his dad, as if he had ever been there, ever done anything that a father should do… Sally may have called herself his aunt, but he knew what a mother was, what a mother did, and she had always been that for him.

“Who’s Sally Jackson?” Mr. D frowned, almost yelling.

“She’s the one who cared enough to raise me, when my parents didn’t. She’s the one who got herself killed so that I could be safe here.” Percy bit his lip, the frustration piling into the backs of his eyes in the form of tears. His hands were shaking and all he wanted was… all he wanted was for Aunt Sally to be there.

“The fate of the world hangs in the balance. You will accept this quest,” Mr. D told him firmly, eyes widening as he glared right back at Percy.

“I won’t!”

“Hey everybody!” Grover appeared at the door, an awkward little smile on his face as he quickly hopped into the room.

“Grover, now is not the time.” Chiron frowned, shaking his head at Grover, but the satyr was not deterred.

“I’m sorry sir. But I have news,” Grover continued on, looking away from Chiron to Percy, determined.

“Grover…” Chiron warned, knowing exactly where this was going, and fearing the consequences.

“Sally Jackson is alive! It looked like she died, but it only looked that way,” Grover exclaimed, not bothered to wait a second longer. He looked at Percy directly, right into his eyes as he shared the news.

“Grover…” Mr. D warned this time, tone low and eyes angry and exhausted.

“Your mother was stolen… by Hades. Which means she’s with him now. In the Underworld. It’s where they want you to go too, isn’t it?” He asked quickly, looking between the two teachers and Percy. “If you can find her there, I think you can bring her back…” Grover encouraged, clasping his hands together in front of him.

Percy looked at Grover, and all he could hear was that Aunt Sally was alive. She was alive. That was all that mattered. Aunt Sally was alive. And he would do anything, anything, to get her back.

“When do we leave?”

Percy trudged his way up to the top of the BIg House, and pushed open the door to the attic. It creaked, an old, horror movie-style creak. It was dark, almost pitch-black, and the attic was full to the brim with… things. Helmets, mirrors, weird old togas, and even a weird dead scorpion-looking thing in a jar. He looked around at the array of items, and walked slowly through the room. The floorboards creaked and a phantom breeze made the weird hanging cages swing a little.

He walked to the back of the room, where a grimy circular window let in the faintest wash of light. Suddenly, there was a creaking on the other side of the room, like someone had sat down in an old rocking chair and was now slowly moving back and forth. He turned, heading off in that direction.

There was another circular window, parallel to the one he had just stood by. This one seemed only slightly cleaner, and beamed light directly down onto… someone. Something. Whatever, in a rocking chair. Percy slowly walked closer, squinting and trying to get a look at the person. They had their hands draped on the armrests of the rocking chair, their head dropped down onto their shoulder as if they had fallen asleep, or had a really bad bout of neck pain. Their hair was long, unkempt, draped over their shoulders and chest. He really hoped she was the oracle he had been told about…

“Hi,” his voice cracked. “I’m Percy. It’s nice to meet you.” She didn’t move. She didn’t even rock back in her chair. Percy glanced down, a little afraid of looking at her too long, and huffed. “I was told a quest isn’t a quest until you’ve said so?” The body did nothing. Nothing. “Which is weird, considering you’re a Halloween decoration.” He sighed out his words, feeling hopeless and a little bit stupid to be speaking to what was clearly some weird stuffed model.

All of a sudden it began to shift. Her shoulders lifted, bones cracking as she moved and stretched her spine, grabbed harder onto the chair.

“Oh geez,” his heart began to race. She lifted her head, leaned forward in her chair and stared directly at him. “You seem busy. I’ll come back,” he scrambled, moving back a little before turning away, ready to sprint out of the wretched attic. Who kept an attic like this anyway?!

But he could hear… something. It was like a garbled whisper, like a sharp icy breath out. Percy turned back around, looking at her, when her mouth began to open, and a noxious green smoke poured out. It was thick and opaque, a dark swampy green. It poured out of her mouth and began to swirl, moving this way and that, as it slowly began to take shape.

He could vaguely make out a person, a dark shadow of shoulders and a head, when it suddenly cleared into an image of… Smelly Gabe.

“Come on, really?” Percy sighed out, already annoyed by this stupid oracle business. This was the shape it chose? Seriously?

“You shall go west and face the god who has turned. And you shall find what was stolen and see it safely returned. The answers to the questions of your life, lay on this journey through grief and strife. Truths to be uncovered are plenty abound, necessary to free a hidden world once found. You shall be betrayed by the one who calls you friend, and fail to save what matters most, in the end.”

You sat up onto your knees as you watched Percy leave the safety of Camp Half-Blood. You had cried as he took on the quest, sobbed as the kind son of Hermes offered your boy his shoes. Your insides were a flock of birds, constantly flapping their wings and fluttering inside your heart, your stomach. You bounced between joy at seeing your son, at being able to watch him now, to watch him learn the world he came from, and the crushing pain and dread at the thought that you could not protect him from any of it.

You watched him on the bus, his face falling at the thought that Zeus, that random gods, would want to chase him, to kill him just for being born. That he was no longer safe. You crawled to the image on your knees, sobbing as you reached out. You brushed the image of his cheek with your fingertips, like old humans caressed photographs from their youth. You pressed your face to his, wishing you could wrap your arms around him, press loving kisses to his forehead and tell him that his mother loved him, that his mother never wanted to leave him.

Then you began to scream as the Fury attacked him.

It was a curse. Surely it was a curse that Odin had placed on you. To finally be able to see your cherished child, after years of being blind to him, only to watch him experience the most difficult times of his little life. He was so little… Twelve years was nothing, even less than the blink of an eye in your lifetime. But it was still so much time you had missed… so much time…

And now, now when you were finally able to see him again, to take joy in the fact that he was alive, that he was under your watch once more, you could do nothing to help him. Nothing. You wailed for so long, with so much strength… you wailed until you could no longer wail.

Outside your prison, Odin listened, his heart shredding itself to pieces at his daughter, his beloved child in so much pain. Pain he put upon her. But it was for your own good. Odin had to be strong. He was the Allfather, he knew what was best for you, even if you could not see it. One day, perhaps if Perseus survived his adventures and learned of his godly origins, Odin could release you so you could reunite with your child.

He understood your pain now. He felt it as keenly as he could, but he loved you most dearly. You were his child, his most beloved child, and it was his job to protect you in the best way he could, the best way he knew how. Even if it caused you a little pain right now, you would be better off in the future. It was how it was written, he was sure.

Freya had already tried her best to fight him on this. She had demanded your release, demanded of Odin to stop this madness. He may be the allfather but she was his child, and nothing should cause his child pain. But Freya didn’t know about Perseus, about Zeus and the threat of a war between gods that would destroy Midgard… No, she didn’t know.

Perhaps he could be kind though, lenient in his imprisonment of you. Allowing Freya to visit you would perhaps soothe you a little, would perhaps calm Freya’s fighting spirit. He too was feeling rather destroyed listening to your pain. Yes, perhaps he could arrange that at least…

You believed you were on the bridge of madness. Or perhaps you had been cursed to lose your godly powers and become human, unstable. The laughs of relief and triumph that bubbled out of you as he cut off the Gorgon’s head, as he used it to turn the Fury to stone. Because how could you laugh in this prison, amongst all the pain? It was pride, clear as fresh water that burst through you, bubbled within your chest and overflowed along your skin. You were proud of your darling Perseus. He was intelligent and resourceful. He was kind and loyal, and all the good things you had always hoped for him to be. He was good.

And you laughed again as you watched him send the head to Olympus. Laughed and laughed and laughed until your heart ached and you dissolved into tears once more.

You could see her. Echidna, smirking as she threatened your child. You yelled, screamed, tried with all your might for Percy to hear you, to run. The creature stuffed into that bag, hidden in plain sight, was not to be trifled with. A chimera, young, and hungry.

You dug your nails into the ground, pressed your face close to watch Perseus, Grover, and Annabeth jump from the train. You watched them, catching your breath as they did theirs.

He clutched his side, groaning in pain. It felt as though you had run out of tears. You had cried so much for your son that you could cry no more. You reached out, gently caressing his hair, wishing you knew how his beautiful curls actually felt. Those were the curls his father had when he stepped out of the water and allowed himself to be at the whim of the water and the sea air. Those were your curls once too…

You watched the little group stroll through the St. Louis arch, watched Percy collapse, his pallour became blue and sickly. Your pain was renewed. Every time you thought you had felt the worst of it, some new fresh horror was presented to you, and you were right back at the start.

You watched them douse him with the fountain water but you could only shake your head, fidgeting in agony, pursing your lips and biting on them as you refrained from screaming. He needed the sea, proper, fresh, natural water. The water blessed by his father.

Instead they took him into the temple. But you knew, you knew that wretched Athena would not help them, not even her own daughter. Her own glory mattered more. She would do nothing to aid them. You were proven right as the chimera ventured easily through the doors, sniffing at the ground as it chased after their scent, the Echidna strolling leisurely behind her abomination. You vowed that you would send her to Tartarus. She would arrive slowly, in pieces that would take eons to be put back together. It would take her eons to return to the world, eons in which she experienced the same agony she had inflicted on your son.

And then you watched him be brave. Your darling boy, sacrificing himself for his friends. Your cheeks were wet with tears, and you could do nothing but clench your hands into fists and watch him face the creature. He held the sword in his hands like he was meant to, he was a fighter, he was born to be. You watched his eyes set with determination, his jaw clench, even as the poison coursed through his body. You smiled, a tearful, pained smile because your son was a true hero.

But when he dangled from the monument, his hands desperately gripping at the metal bar, you began to pray to Odin, to Poseidon, you even stooped so low as to beg Zeus. If only some other god, someone who could help your son, save him. But none heard your prayers. They bounced back hollowly against the walls, right into your ears.

And as he fell from the monument, his hands slipping and his body careening through the air, you screamed. At the top of your lungs. You wailed, hands pressed into the ground. Your power rose within you, a crashing flood rising up from your belly to your chest, spreading through your fingertips. Your eyes began to glow, flickering with blue light as your very being trembled. Your mouth was open, a screech of pain and suffering flooding the room. The walls shook, you could feel the floor trembling beneath you as you watched your son fall to his doom. You overflowed.

Every god and creature, each one of the Aesir felt your anguish. The world shook, the very branches of Yggdrasil trembled.

Odin listened in fear, watched as cracks appeared in the boundaries of your prison. You would not be held for long. Your love for your son… it was boundless, endless, and it fed your power like nothing else. You would be held. His only choice… he only had one choice.

Then suddenly, as you felt the powerful waterfall of relief as his father saved him, as your husband did his duty, you were immobile. You could no longer move. You were sitting on your folded legs, head turned to watch your son’s life play before your eyes, and you could do nothing but watch. It was the same as the day Odin had put you in the prison. You could do nothing.

The walls had moved in close, you could feel them brush against your arms and legs, as if the prison was fitted to the size of your body with only an inch to spare on each side. And your son’s life filled your eyes, as if you were there with him, hovering near, unable to speak, unable to touch, unable to help, but always there, at his shoulder, watching him.

You despised Ares. You despised him with every drop of your soul. Every piece of you reviled him. He was a god of war, like you, but he took pleasure in it, enjoyed the death and destruction. You were so far from him. The two purposes in you were constantly fighting, love and war, so often intertwined. People fought wars for love, but love had no place in war. You did not love war, though you patroned it. You fought to end war, you fought the war to reach peace. Perhaps a contradiction in itself. But you did not take pleasure in it. Never once. And you reviled Ares so for enjoying it.

What you hated more, was that he was in the presence of your son. You did not want Perseus anywhere near him. You did not want the foul presence of Ares to taint the air around your son, let alone for him to speak to your beloved child. He was hateful, vile, the personification of destruction. Your Perseus was everything good and brave. Those things did not go together.

You watched the sickening god of war laugh as he toyed with the children, twisting their minds this way and that, proffering his joy of an inevitable war. You felt sick to your stomach.

It was even worse when he tasked them with retrieving his shield, dangling the ease of entering the underworld just under their noses. Of course they would accept the task, it would be stupid to refuse. It was just as bad to accept it though…

You liked the girl, Annabeth. She was brave, unafraid of standing up to Ares. You respected that. You were glad she was with your boy, she would take good care of him. She was good too. A soft little smile twitched at your lips though your mouth didn’t move.

It was another torture to watch your son and Annabeth try to work through Hephaestus’ amusement park. It was a sad moment, you had never had any quarrel with Hephaestus. He had kept to his own on Olympus. The most you had seen him interact with anyone was Hestia, she treated him kindly, there was a type of love there, between them, you just weren’t quite sure what it was. And Aphrodite, that jealous creature, she had mistreated him beyond belief. The one time you had seen the two of them interact, she had spoken to him with vile words, cutting him down as if she had not once been bound to him in marriage, as if there was nothing sacred there… It disgusted you. You only held sympathy for the poor god.

But if anything of his doing caused harm to your son… all sympathy would die, fall into the black pit your heart was slowly becoming. If any of those gods hurt your son, you would personally see to their destruction.

You watched him narrate the story of the chair to Annabeth, and you beamed with pride. He was intelligent, he knew his immortal history. A pang of sadness hit your chest then. Sally, your dearest friend Sally, was responsible for this, him. She was responsible for raising him, and she did such a wonderful job. She raised a boy with integrity, respect, honour, valour, intelligence, confidence, every possible good thing a boy could be! It was all her. Neither you, nor Poseidon could take any credit for the amazing child he turned out to be. It was all Sally. And now she was trapped, held in the clutches of Hades, for who knows what reason? He had been a friend once, a dear friend among the Greek Gods. Surely he knew about Perseus, knew of his heritage… What reason did he have to keep Sally Jackson and somehow fuel this budding war between his brothers?

You watched him stare at Annabeth with pain in his eyes. You wept as they argued, fighting to be the one to sacrifice themselves. You wanted to reach out, to clutch them both to your chest and hide them from the evils they had faced. You could feel it, the bond the two shared as they looked at each other. They were still children, so small, so young, but they were connected. There was friendship, there was love, the innocent pale love of children. You sobbed as Percy sat on the chair and allowed the gold to creep over his skin. Cried, agonising tears as he smiled, his beautiful blue eyes sparkling, the beautiful blue eyes of his father… soon overtaken by gold.

You watched Annabeth, dear darling Annabeth, whose heart was filled with care and loyalty, step over the shield they so desperately needed to complete their task. You watched her round the chair, gaze at the gears, using all her knowledge. You watched her struggle with each piece, trying with all her might to twist and turn something, anything. Just one cog. All she needed was to be able to turn one cog and reverse whatever the chair had done.

You watched on. There was nothing you could do but watch, locked in a prison of your father’s making. You watched as Hephaestus entered the room, watched him as he watched her. As she wept silent tears and ignored his offer to leave, struggling with a machine she could not understand, would never understand.

Against your wishes your heart sparked a little. The girl wouldn’t leave. She wouldn’t leave Percy. And not only would she not leave, she wouldn’t stand down from Hephaestus either. You would have laughed had you not felt as if you had entered a period of mourning. Annabeth had forever cemented a place in your heart. And perhaps, she had carved out a piece of Hephaestus’ too. If you ever escaped this place, if you were ever free to roam the realms of Yggdrasil once more, you would bestow every possible blessing you could on the child. She saved your son, she stayed loyal and fought to save him. Nothing you could do as a god would ever be payment enough for this…

You felt such beautiful, innocent, joy when you realised Ares’ plan was to get Percy to Hermes. Your dear friend Hermes, a kind soul you trusted with the entirety of your own. He would help Percy. You knew he would. If he suspected, even for a moment, that Percy was your son, you were sure he would help him. He had cared for you once, graciously kept you company those many eons ago on Olympus. Yes, you knew he would help. He had to.

And once more you were filled with pride, beautiful, lethal, pride as you watched Percy stand toe to toe with the inimitable god of war. As you watched him put Ares in his place. You smiled in triumph. Your son was just like you, even if it was only in your shared hatred of Ares.

Your mind was beginning to work on overdrive behind your frozen facade. If Ares was protecting Clarisse this time, it meant Ares must have stolen the bolt the first time. It made sense, he was the first one to accuse you of stealing the bolt. It is far easier to be absolved when you can rest the blame on another.

But why would he steal it? Why would he steal it just to return it so soon after? What was his agenda? The goal must have been to be rid of you, to destroy the alliance between the Greek and Norse gods. But why? And why steal it again now? What new plan had he cooked?

The cogs of your mind turned and turned, circling the thoughts but not being able to settle on any answer as you gazed absentmindedly at the children on their journey to the Lotus Casino.

And when they reached the casino, you could sense something was wrong. It was covered in a haze, something unnatural. There was something wrong with the Casino, and despite all your wishes for the children not to go in, you knew they would. You only hoped they found Hermes quickly.

When Percy and Annabeth finally lay eyes on him, you beamed. He had chosen a new form since you had seen him last, this one was much more… modern, casual. He still had the same smirk though, the same mischievous glint in his eyes. He was still your same old Hermes. You wanted to reach out and touch him too, to wrap him in a hug and thank him for his friendship from eons ago. Even just a word would do, anything to let him know you were there, to let anyone know you were there….

A stray tear slipped from your eye leaving a ticklish trail down your cheek.

You watched his face fall at the mention of Luke. Luke… the boy who had helped Percy at camp, who had been so kind to your son. Of course he was a child of Hermes, of course! You wanted to laugh. The world came full circle. His father had once been kind to you, and now he was kind to your son. The Fates loved to weave their threads in such magnificent ways.

If nothing else, maybe for the love of his son, Hermes would help yours.

You did the only thing you could do, watching Percy speak to the Nereid. They had only just missed each other. Only just. Your Poseidon, your beloved Poseidon had been there, you could have seen him again, laid eyes on him once more… but Percy was too late. He was too late.

You wanted to scream, but only a small choked sound left your lips. You exhausted yourself trying to fight the stillness, willing your limbs to move, just move! One inch, one twitch was enough. Just something to end this prison sentence. You wanted to disappear, to disintegrate. You wanted the humans to stop believing in you, for Ragnarok to take you into the endless darkness. You did not want to be the statue of a god any longer.

But all you could do was sit there and watch the Nereid hand your son the pearls to return him safely. All you could do was watch your darling boy continue on this perilous journey. All you could do was… nothing.

You watched the little gang of friends make their way through the Underworld. You watched them traverse past the souls, millions of people desperate to make their way to the next life. And you watched, with bated breath, as they outran Cerberus. He was a magnificent beast, three headed and humongous. A gorgeous creature. You had heard many tales from Hades, once upon a time… the dog was a loyal companion, if a little, uh, unconventional. The children simply needed to show him some love, he was a gentle beast if you treated him right.

Annabeth was intelligent though, and you were glad to see her figure it out. Each and every moment she rose higher in your esteem. You could hope for no better companion for Percy than Annabeth.

Your heart leapt into your throat as the shoes began dragging Grover towards the gaping maw of Tartarus. Your vision of them began to turn hazy. Whatever magic allowed you to see Percy was weaker in the Underworld, even weaker close to Tartarus. Your gaze on them flickered as Percy hauled Grover back up, watching the shoes fall into the pit.

As Percy slowly unzipped his backpack and pulled the lightning bolt out, you gasped in shock, or at least, in your mind you did. The bolt… why was it in Percy’s bag? But the bag… the bag was not Percy’s. That reviled god of war… he had given the bag to Percy. That hateful creature had possessed the bolt this entire time…

You cursed that villainous god, that repulsive deity… As soon as you were out of this prison, as soon as you had control of your limbs again, of your power, you would heap innumerable curses on him. You would personally find the Fates and ensure they wrote in only pain. You would go to the ends of Midgard to find ways to ensure the rest of his infinite days were filled with nothing but pain. You would… you would have your revenge.

He had destroyed your life. He had ruined the peace and love you had found on Olympus, ruined any hope you had of marrying the god you loved and living peacefully with him, having children peacefully with him. And now he was ruining your son’s life. This you could not stand for. This you would not allow.

You seethed as you watched on, as Percy and Grover considered their next steps. The ice suddenly surrounding your heart thawed a little as they set upon saving Sally. It seemed you would be endlessly proud of your son until the end of days.

They trekked across the Underworld to Hades’ Palace. You hoped Hades remained as he had once been. He was kind at heart. Despite his title, he was a gentle soul, with a rather dry sense of humour. You, in your limited time with him, had been friends once. You were also quite sure Poseidon favoured him over Zeus (though he did not hold much love for any of his family, and you could particularly understand why when it came to Zeus) and you hoped that would give Percy some sort of sympathetic edge.

“Hey, fellas. Welcome!” Hades walked over determinedly, arms outstretched in welcome. “Sorry about all the… Oh…” Percy and Grover watched him as he walked over from a distance, staring as he slowly became clearer and clearer. “Anyways, it’s great to meet you. I know who you are, and you know who I am, so we can just skip right past that part. Can I get you anything? Fresh pomegranate juice, a snack?”

You would have chuckled if you could. Though he seemed a little more…jovial, than he had been before, the dry humour had not been done away with. Oh how you missed him…

“Actually if…” Grover began, but was quickly interrupted.

“My aunt.” Percy’s face was set with determination.

“Boom. Straight to business.” Hades looked Percy up and down then offered him a little smile. “I admire the cut of your jib.” Percy looked on, unimpressed. “Little nautical reference for you,” Hades responded, before nodding his head a few times as his smile slipped away. “I see you.”

“Where is she?” Percy asked quickly, beginning to frown. He was not in the mood for any more godly trickery. He had been through far too much.

“Right. Okey-doke. Let’s get to it. Your aunt’s just over here.” Hades jabbed a thumb over his shoulder, then turned and began to walk in that direction. Percy and Grover glanced at each other, frowning in confusion. No way it could be that easy.

“You’ve come all this way, don’t be shy,” Hades called back. Percy and Grover were still for a moment more before quickly following after the God of the Underworld. He had already made substantial ground ahead of them.

They rounded a corner and he led them to a sitting room-type set up. On the side, by a set of brown leather couches, a golden statue stood of… Sally Jackson. She was reaching out, frozen in gold. You felt a certain kinship with her at that moment.

“Aunt Sally?” Percy looked on incredulously, moving haltingly through the threshold as Hades fiddled with a blue throw. “What did you do to her?” Percy asked, accusation heavy in his tone. Hades dropped the folded blanket onto one of the couches and turned to Percy.

“Uh,” he scoffed, “saved her life?” He gestured at the statue, as if it was not obvious enough already what he had done. “You know, typically, getting crushed by a Minotaur is a terminal diagnosis.”

Percy stared at the statue, at the way her arm was still reaching out, telling him to run. His Aunt Sally, the closest thing to a mother he had ever had…

“I snagged her for ya, just in the “ta-da” nick of time,” Hades smiled, “so that you would come see me. And here we are.” The God of the Underworld seemed so… pleased to see them, as if he had been waiting for this moment. “You give me what you got, and I’m giving you what I got.”

“I… I can’t give it to you.” Percy didn’t take his eyes off his Aunt Sally, but a heaviness suddenly filled his chest. Of course, Hades would want the bolt in exchange for Aunt Sally. But he couldn’t… he just couldn’t.

“Ah, see, there’s a quid and a quo here.”

“The bolt doesn’t belong to you.” Hades paused, his eyes flitting away in confusion. “Your plan almost worked. You and Ares managed to steal the bolt, trick me into bringing it right down and giving it to you. But it’s wrong, and I won’t do it. So all I can do is ask you to do the right thing, too. Please… let my aunt go.”

Hades was silent for a moment, watching Percy, before he shook his head and frowned in confusion.

“Huh?” He looked completely lost.

“What?” Percy asked in return, now feeling confused at the god’s confusion.

“Who… who tricked Ares into doing what?” Hades asked, squinting his eyes a little more.

“You’re in cahoots with Ares, to secure the bolt,” Grover supplied, looking at Hades with a sort of ‘duh’ expression.

“I’m not in cahoots with Ares,” Hades replied, “I seldom ‘cahoot’. The bolt is my brothers’ drama, I don’t want any part of it.” Hades fluttered his hand in the air, as if physically brushing away the idea that he would be interested in any of that.

“You don’t want it?” Percy asked, frowning as he stared at Hades.

“No.”

“Then what do you want?” Percy asked, holding his hands up a little. Hades looked between the two boys as if there were two village idiots standing before him.

“My helm!” He exclaimed.

“Your what?” Percy asked, frowning once more.

“My Helm of Darkness. It went missing just days before someone,” he pointed at Percy, “used it to turn invisible and steal the bolt. I’d like it back now, please, and then you get your aunt back.” He gestured with both his hands from the statue to Percy, then stood there, waiting for them to hand back what was rightfully his.

“You really don’t want the bolt?” Percy asked, leaning forward a little as if he couldn’t quite believe the conversation he was having.

“Why would I want that?” Hades asked, sighing exasperatedly.

“To start a war between your brothers,” Grover supplied, shrugging his shoulders.

“Why would I want that?” Hades repeated, staring at Grover.

“Jealousy!” Grover replied, glancing away as if he couldn’t believe he had to explain this to the person that was surely responsible.

“I don’t know if you noticed,” Hades began sarcastically, “but it’s all candy canes and rainbows down here. I’m managing just fine.” Thunder rumbled somewhere in the distance. “I don’t really do jealous.”

Percy began to think, staring at a spot on the floor as his mind slowly began to turn. “My brothers, on the other hand, have the market cornered on jealous.” Hades huffed. “Family drama is why I don’t go up there anymore. These grudges, they go on forever. Super unhealthy. Someone stole Zeus’s bolt, it wasn’t me, it must have been somebody who was…”

“Kronos,” Percy burst out. Hades twitched his head forward, fixing his eyes on Percy.

“Excuse me?”

“He’s got the longest grudge of them all. Zeus took Kronos’s throne. Who else has a bigger reason to weaken Zeus and take his throne back?” Percy told them, feeling the wheels in his brain begin to speed. Hades nodded his head a little, but sighed, glancing away from Percy.

“Kronos is in a million pieces at the bottom of…”

“Tartarus,” Percy interjected, “where something just tried to pull us into it the moment the bolt appeared in our bag.” Hades glanced the boy up and down. “Tartarus…” Percy repeated, thinking aloud. “Where I’ve been hearing a voice from in my dreams, telling me it needs my help to take down Olympus.” Percy walked closer to Hades, but the God of the Underworld simply stayed quiet, listening to the boy with an unbothered (if slightly exasperated) expression. “I assumed that was you, but that voice I heard… that definitely did not sound like you.”

Hades took a deep breath and sighed, blinking slowly as he looked away from the boys. He shifted a little, looked this way and that, before returning his gaze to the pair with his eyes set.

“Ask me for sanctuary.” He said it so simply.

“What?”

“If Kronos is somehow planning to emerge from his exile, and you were his first call… you’re not safe. Ask me, and I’ll protect you. You and your aunt,” Hades glanced back at Sally as he spoke. “And the goat,” he gestured to Grover carelessly with his hand. “I'll throw him in, on the house.” You would have kissed Hades for the offer. He would protect your son. He would do it. It was all you could hope for. But… but it would not be free. And knowing Percy over the time of your imprisonment… you knew he would not take it.

“This works out nice for you as it turns out. All it’ll cost you is the bolt,” Hades offered nonchalantly, shrugging his shoulders as if it was the simplest of bargains.

“I thought you didn’t want the bolt?” Grover asked quickly.

“I don’t want the bolt. Now, I need the bolt. If war with Kronos is coming, I’d like to be prepared,” Hades told them. “Not messing around here, kid. This only ends one way. The only question is how difficult you make it.” Hades shifted on his feet, moving a little closer to Percy.

Percy looked away, settling his gaze on Sally. He ran his eyes over the smooth gold, the grooves of her hair and clothes, then subtly shook his head.

“No.” Hades had had enough. He stepped forward.

“Give me the bag.” He began reaching out for it but Percy pulled the pearl the Nereid had given him out of his pocket and held it up threateningly in the air. “Nice pearl,” Hades bit out sarcastically, glancing between it and the boy.

“I accept your offer,” Percy spoke quickly.

“Great!” Hades shook his head, confused why the boy was still threatening to disappear.

“Your first offer. We’re gonna go get your helm. And when I get back, you’re gonna let my aunt go.”

“Okay. Hang on, kid,” Hades moved forward once more, holding out his hands.

“Grover, now!” Percy yelled, and watched Grover throw the pearl at his feet and fall into a flash of light.

“WAIT!” Hades yelled, holding his hands up in surrender. Percy paused, his hand almost moving down to smash the pearl at his feet. “Wait, wait, just a minute.” After they took a few deep breaths each, Hades looked at Percy with a hint of more gentleness than before. “How’s your mother?” Percy stood up a little straighter in shock.

“My mother?” He frowned, bringing the hand with the pearl down a little.

“Yeah, your mother, kid. How’s she doing? I haven’t- I haven’t seen her in… actual eons. I’ve had no news about that side of the world so like, yeah, how’s she doing?”

“You… you know my mother?” Percy asked softly, clenching the pearl a little tighter in his hand as he gazed at Hades.

“Uh, yeah, kid, you’re my nephew, technically speaking, so I did know your mother, yes. How is she? I would’ve thought she would be all over you… I’m a bit surprised actually, seeing you do all this demigod work on your own…” Hades frowned and stared at Percy a little hard. “Why are you disguised as a demigod? I guess that would make it easier to steal the bolt, but your mother never seemed like the type to exact revenge… and she would never let you do this alone…” Hades began to mumble in thought, his frown deepening as his gaze on Percy became unfocused.

“Uh, yeah, I have no idea what you’re talking about. I don’t know how my mother is doing, I dont… I don’t even know who she is. My Aunt Sally raised me,” and he pointed at the statue behind Hades, raising his eyebrows as he gave the god an odd look. Hades stared at him, and the two stood still for a minute.

“What… what do you actually know about your parents, kid?” Hades asked, eyebrows furrowing.

“Not a lot,” Percy shrugged, “I know Poseidon’s my dad now, I guess. But Aunt Sally never really told me anything about my mom except that she loved me and couldn’t raise me. Funny, loving me then abandoning me,” he mumbled sarcastically, huffing as he returned his gaze to Hades. “Why?” The God of the Underworld sighed and pressed a hand to his forehead, rubbing at his brow before standing up straighter again and gesturing to the couches.

“Have a seat, kid, this is going to be a long story.”

“No way, I’m not sitting down,” and Percy raised the pearl threateningly again.

“Ok! Ok! Don’t sit, I don’t care, I’m gonna sit down, though,” and Hades moved to the couch and sat down facing Percy. “Can’t imagine how this duty has fallen to me,” Hades grumbled. Percy watched him carefully, wondering where in the world this was going.

“A long time ago, like before the modern world long ago- wait, hold on a minute, how much do you know about Norse mythology?” “Norse mythology? I don’t know, not a lot. They have the guy Odin, and Thor and that tree of worlds or something.”

“Oh Olympus, ok, well, a long time ago, the Norse and Greek gods were at war for the world. There was fighting all over, random things, random places, but finally, Zeus and Odin met and created a peace treaty. It was far better for both worlds to interact peacefully, to give benefit to each other rather than destroy the world they were both inhabiting. As a gesture of goodwill, one of the few Zeus has ever bothered with by the way, he invited the Norse gods to Olympus. All of us were forced to attend, even yours truly, and your father too-”

“Is this story going somewhere? I have things to go do,” Percy hurried, but the god of the underworld just scoffed and glared at him.

“Can you just let me finish? I’m helping you!”

“Ok, ok, fine, sorry, keep going,” Percy raised his hands in surrender and quietened.

“Odin had a bunch of kids, but his youngest was a daughter. She was his most precious child, a goddess of love and war. Her name was Y/n.” Hades sighed wistfully as he thought of you, lovely and sweet you entering the throne room in Grecian garb, a hopeful and innocent little smile on your face, gazing in wonder at this new world that had been unlocked for you. You were such a curious little goddess. “And Poseidon instantly fell in love with her.”

Percy raised his eyebrows, his limbs loosening as he became enraptured in the story.

“Poseidon was… mad for her. Any past flings with Nereids or humans were completely forgotten at the sight of her. He was enamoured. Even after the Norse gods left that day, he would go meet with her somewhere in the world. He spent so much of his time with her… They had a bond like no other. A love like no other. If it was even a fraction of the love between Persephone and I… well, you get the gist. They were crazy about each other.

“One day, Hermes had invited her back to watch a performance by the muses. She and Hermes had become friends, but between you and me, I think he was kind of into her. Anyway, she was on Mount Olympus when Zeus’s lightning bolt was stolen. Ares accused her of stealing the bolt, and she was banished and thrown off the mountain.”

“Wait. Are you saying… are you saying my mother stole the lightning bolt?!”

“Well, that’s what Zeus claimed. Personally, not a fan of that theory. It was too convenient, and having known her, she would never bother with something like that. She had no interest in petty squabbles for power.

Anyway, Zeus threw her off Olympus and threatened to attack the Norse gods with all his power if the lightning bolt wasn’t returned to him. It was like, almost two days later or something that Hermes found the bolt. Back then Zeus was a little careless with his power, it was highly possible he probably just forgot the bolt somewhere on one of his little trips down from Olympus. But the damage was done. All peace had been broken and war was threatened once more. In the nick of time, Odin came to Zeus and brokered another peace, but this time both kings vowed there would never be contact between either of their worlds ever again. The Aesir would stay where they were, the gods in Olympus, and everyone would be better off for it.

But of course, Poseidon was raging. He was barred from seeing his one true love. He raged, he almost started a war with Zeus over it. He even isolated himself to the seas for a long time, refused to come up to Olympus, even when Zeus ordered him to. Slowly, as time passed though, he mellowed out a little, started coming back to Olympus. It wasn’t like him, to just let go of his anger, even if it was after a long time. I just assumed he found a way to see Y/n again, broke the rules here and there to spend time with her. Who wouldn’t?

And then, about twelve years ago, it was like his anger had returned somewhat. He withdrew a little, came up to Olympus only when he had to, but mostly stuck to the seas. Funny how that coincides with the time you came into existence, isn’t it?” Hades raised an eyebrow, looking at Percy like he was waiting for him to get the message.

“It makes sense that you’re her son. Poseidon hasn’t ever taken another lover since the banishment. No secret little forbidden children, nothing. It would make a lot of sense then, that she would be your mother, Percy. And it would make a lot of sense then, why they hid you as a demigod.”

“What… wait, do you mean I’m… not a demigod?” Percy swallowed, staring at Hades with a frown.

“Do I need to say it slowly? Your mother is a goddess. Your father is a god. What would that make you?” Hades asked, exasperated as he gestured at Percy.

“Are.. are you saying that I’m a god?!” Percy exclaimed, pointing at himself.

“Bingo! Finally! Yes, Percy, you’re a god.”

Taglist: @thicficbich1, @pasta-warlord, @turtleshavesoulmates, @wolfgirl294, @stanswifties, @mrsinclaire, @homanoid, @bellamysnatblida, @mooncleaver @butterfly-skinnylegend @marvellover98, @kakorrhaphiphobia

25 notes · View notes

accidentcache · 2 months ago

Text

five ➜ hinge binge [ FINAL ]

warnings: language, smoking, alcohol, mentions of stalker, written under the cut, fem!reader as usual!

cache notes: normal / quirkless au! childhood bestfriends rumi and keigo <3

series masterlist

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦

the double doors to the kitchen swung open, presenting a very nervous and freaked out looking touya. his forehead was sticky with sweat-- the bar was busy again, but also because he had spent the last fifteen minutes flirting with the one person his friend had told him was always off limits.

the one person who he had a crush on since the first time he'd seen them. if he didn't make it so… obvious that first night, he probably would not be drenched in his own nerves after talking with you for just a handful of minutes.

but no, keigo-- ever the protective best friend, had done his damnest to keep touya and yourself seperated. the fact that you didn't know he worked at the same bar this entire time? worked here longer than keigo? was the one who got him his management position in the first place?

crushed. absolutely devastated.

from the other side of the heated serving platforms, keigo's eyes narrowed as he caught touya pacing ever so slightly. he wouldn't come right out and accuse him of anything. keigo plays smarter than that. and touya definetely hasn't admitted fully to his crush on you. but keigo is smart in some ways. he knows.

"the hell are you doing, todoroki?" he calls through the heat, looking up from the dish he was currently helping spinner with. tomura slides behind them and steals a pickle, and though keigo doesn't verbally stop him-- he glares in his direction and swats at him as tomura darts away to avoid it.

touya smiles a little too widely for keigo's liking. his lower lip wobbles. his hair sticks to his forehead.

keigo stares. "are you kidding me?"

"what else am i supposed to do, takami?" touya leans forward from the other side of the serving platforms. if keigo can play his cards right, he'll get touya to admit his crush on you and have further reason not to have you two hang around each other.

"your job?" keigo retorts. "you've worked full houses before, touya. it shouldn't be an issue."

"you didn't tell me she'd be here!"

bingo.

keigo pauses slightly, but spinner has a hold on the dish the two of them were working on. spinner only spares him a faint roll of his eyes before taking the plate, sliding it up on the rack under warmth of the lamp before calling the ticket out. "who?" he questions after a beat.

touya hisses in response. "don't be dense, blondie," touya's teeth grit and his grip tightens on the metal countertop as he shifts uncomfortably in place. "your friend," he starts again. "[y/n]."

they're at a standstill now. with touya admitting to having a thing for you and keigo looking smug that he got him to admit it in the first place, the kitchen was buzzing around them-- ignoring the tension as both of the waited for the other to speak.

keigo knows your dating history. it's long, it's questionable and it makes his head hurt when he does think about it. and yeah, at first; he totally was judging the book off the cover and wanted touya to stay far away from you.

over the years, he's grown closer to the guy-- he still doesn't think it's a good idea for you to even think about getting in the guy's pants, but he wouldn't be the worst guy you got into bed with by a longshot. and that, unfortunately, is saying something. and keigo knows he has an overwhelming protective streak over you, he always has since high school. the trio— rumi, yourself and keigo— went through a lot together.

there was that little inkling in the back of his brain that maybe touya would treat you right. maybe.

"keigo, i'm being so fucking real with you right now, i don't think i can hold it together," touya's voice wavers. if the two of them weren't talking about you, he would've laughed. but the sight of touya being so flustered and out of sorts when he's normally so confident and a natural with women picks at another part of keigo's brain.

"god, do you actually like her?"

"i don't even know that much about her and i want to learn everything," touya replies. his tongue presses between his lips and he almost looks… desperate? for keigo's blessing it seems.

touya's witnessed keigo's protectiveness before. the night that he had to kick the stalker out-- he remembered just how livid the blonde was after touya had handled getting the guy out of the building.

it was a weird night for the both of them. keigo refused to get into it, but touya knew not to get on his bad side when it came to those closest to him. that was enough of a reason to get over this crush of his on you-- but did it work?

no, far from it, actually. coming face to face with you in the alley half an hour ago short circuited touya's brain. with your cheeks flushed from the alcohol and dancing you had done, hair sticking to your forehead; you looked as good as the day he first saw you. he wasn't expecting the menthol-- though he could change that if he could get past keigo first.

"she doesn't date my coworkers," keigo tries to dissuade him.

"i can try," touya counters back.

the blonde narrows his eyes. "keep it in your pants."

touya's eyes brighten, the look of pure satisfaction spreading onto his lips-- widening considerably by the second. his palms meet the metal of the counter twice, the corner of his mouth continuing to lift. "no promises."

keigo looks incredulous. "touya--!"

touya is already heading towards the double doors, his demeanor taking a complete 180. he spins on his heels to walk with his back to the door, holding his hands up in mocking surrender. "relax, takami!" he calls out, though there's twinge of honesty laced in his tone. "i'm not gonna sleep with her--" he steps through the doors, not letting the doors close until he finishes his statement.

"tonight, that is!"

keigo can only stare at the double doors as they swing and settle to a close after his departure.

taglist;

italic if i wasn't able to tag you, will be checking ages in bio / pinned!;

@rueclfer / @tapiocakisses / @luvvmae / @cryingintheclubdhmu / @shotovhs / @sukunaspillow / @aizawassbitch / @fackeraccount / @redr0sewrites / @saturnzlv / @cupidsblonde / @lauretsy / @beckxisxinxlovexwithxjin / @sunaraii / @shotos-angelic-whore / @cut3-shpup / @baddiebussin / @mrcleans4headwrinkle / @commonmisery / @luvvvamy / @suksatoru / @themultifandomgirl / @qstargirl / @ssaturnssstuff

148 notes · View notes

poorly-drawn-mdzs · 7 months ago

Note

I haven't read these books at all, but your art is so fun and cute that I like seeing your comics a lot regardless. Fantastic Silly Little Guy energy.

Thank you for enjoying my silly little guys and my comics B*)

#ask #non mdzs #Do I tag sockpuppet wangxian? maybe not.#Truly; Thank you. The ability to draw silly little guys is one that has brought me a lot of joy!#I started this project as a way to get into the habit of drawing so I could learn.#Knowing that my comics are enjoyable even for those who 'don't go here' really is a high complement for me.#This ask is also doubly funny because I also have not read these books. I have only enjoyed them as a show/audio drama.#There was also an artist who did a recap of another book by the authour who had not seen the series and boy it was good.#that was @tempo-takoyaki if you're curious!#Long and short of it all: I think art and comics are a really wonderful media to engage with. Everyone should draw comics #Question asker has a comic too: Lovespells has really cute art and it's on my to read list now B*)

312 notes · View notes

23victoria · 9 months ago

Text

Jealousy, Jealousy

f1 grid x fem!reader

wc: 2.1k

warnings: just the guys being jealous, a lil uncomfortable situations ig,

authors note: sorry i took so long with this anon 🥹🤍! also sorry if this is bad for some reason i was struggling 😓 also ignore any typos any feedback is appreciated and please like, comment, and reblog!! hope you enjoy!! if you wanna join my taglist, click HERE!

f1 masterlist

Lewis

You were at a quaint bookstore in London, browsing through the latest bestsellers. Lewis was busy with a media event, so you decided to take some time to yourself. While searching the shelves, a charming young man approached you, striking up a conversation about the book you were holding.

"So, are you a Ana Huang fan?" he asked, flashing a friendly smile.

You smiled back, appreciating the casual conversation. "Yes, I love her Twisted series! Currently reading book 2."

"That's one of the best books!" he said, inching closer. "I can definitely recommend some more books similar to hers! Maybe if I could get-"

Unbeknownst to you, Lewis had wrapped up his event early and decided to surprise you. He walked into the bookstore just as you were chatting with the stranger. He immediately noticed the man's enthusiastic gestures and your engaged expression. His protective instincts kicked in.

He approached with a confident stride, sliding an arm around your waist. "Hey, babe. Who's your friend?" Lewis's tone was polite, but his eyes were intense.

"Oh, Lewis! This is Tom, we were just talking about The Twisted Series!" you said, trying to ease the tension.

Tom extended his hand, but Lewis's grip on your waist tightened slightly. "Nice to meet you, Tom. I'm Lewis."

Tom picked up on the vibe and quickly made his exit. "Nice to meet you too. I'll let you two enjoy your day."

As Tom walked away, you turned to Lewis, raising an eyebrow. "Is that a hint of jealousy I detect?"

Lewis chuckled, relaxing his hold. "Maybe a little. Can you blame me? He was cleary interested."

You kissed his cheek, reassured by his protectiveness. "You’re cute when you get like this, you know you're the only one for me."

Max

You were at a trendy bar in Monaco with some friends, celebrating your movie premiere. Max was racing that weekend, so you hadn't expected to see him. While chatting at the bar, a guy approached you, complimenting your dress.

"That dress looks amazing on you," he said smoothly.

"Thanks," you replied, smiling politely.

Max, who had finished his practice session early, decided to surprise you. He walked into the bar and immediately spotted you talking to the stranger. His mood darkened as he saw the guy leaning in closer to you.

Max wasted no time, walking straight over and placing a possessive hand on your lower back. "Hey, schatje. Who's this?"

You turned, surprised and delighted to see him. "Max! This is Jason. He just complimented me on my dress."

Jason, sensing the tension, took a step back. "Nice to meet you, Max. You look beautiful Y/N, nice talking to you."

Max nodded curtly, watching Jason leave before turning his attention back to you. "What was that about?"

"Just a compliment," you said, smiling. "Why are you jealous?"

Max pulled you into a deep kiss, making sure everyone in the bar knew you were his. "No."

You laughed, hugging him tightly. "Yes you are, but it’s okay, I like when you get jealous. Besides you're the only one I want, Maxie."

Charles

You were at the university library, studying for an upcoming exam. Charles was away for a race, so you decided to focus on your studies. A fellow classmate approached you, asking if he could join you at your table.

"Sure," you said, moving your books to make space.

The two of you started discussing your coursework, but the conversation soon shifted to more personal topics. Just as the guy was about to ask you out for coffee, Charles walked in. He had flown back earlier than expected to surprise you.

He saw you laughing with the guy and felt a pang of jealousy. Charles walked over, his presence commanding immediate attention. "Hey, love. Mind if I join you?"

You looked up, surprised and thrilled. "Charles! Of course, sit down. This is Peter, we were just studying."

Peter quickly excused himself, sensing the unspoken tension. "I'll see you around, Y/N."

As Peter left, Charles took his seat beside you, his arm draped protectively over your shoulders. "Who was that?"

"Just a classmate," you said, amused by his reaction. "Jealous much?"

Charles sighed, pulling you closer. "Maybe. But I have every right to be, I mean look at you, you're gorgeous. Any person with common sense would want you."

You kissed his cheek, whispering, "You're adorable, Char! You never have to worry about that. Trust me, you're the only one I want."

Oscar

You were at a cozy café in Melbourne, waiting for your boyfriend. He had a busy schedule, but you managed to find time for a quick coffee date. While waiting, a guy at the next table struck up a conversation.

"Do you come here often?" he asked, clearly interested.

"Not really, just waiting for someone," you replied, hoping he would take the hint.

He leaned in a bit closer, a confident smile on his face. "Well, maybe while you wait, we could get to know each other better."

Oscar walked in at that moment, his eyes narrowing as he saw the guy leaning in closer to you as he spoke. He walked over, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. "Hey, baby. Ready to go?"

The guy quickly backed off, realizing he was intruding. "Oh, I'll leave you two to it," he said, standing up and walking away.

Oscar watched him go before turning to you. "Who was that?"

"I don’t know, just some random guy," you said, smiling up at him. "You feeling okay? You look a little red?"

Oscar shakes his head, “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” Looking at him you say, “You sure it’s not because you got a little jealous?”

Oscar chuckled, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Maybe a little. I just can't stand the thought of anyone else getting your attention."

You hugged him tightly, giving him a short kiss. "You just have to get used to having a very attractive girlfriend baby."

“I guess I do.” he says cheekily wrapping his arm around your waist as you guys walk out.

Carlos

You were in the pit lane, watching the preparations for the upcoming race. Carlos was busy with the team, so you decided to explore the area. A fellow fan, noticing your VIP pass, struck up a conversation.

"Are you here for the race?" he asked, clearly impressed by your pass.

"Yes, I'm here with my boyfriend," you replied, trying to be polite but distant.

"That's great," he said, undeterred by the mention of your boyfriend. "Is this your first time attending, or are you a regular?"

"Regular." you responded, hoping the conversation would end soon.

"Oh, so your boyfriend's rich, huh?" he remarked with a smirk.

"Uh, sure…yeah," you replied, taken aback and uncomfortable with his comment.

Carlos, having finished his briefing, spotted you talking to the guy. His protective instincts flared up as he saw him getting a bit too friendly.

He walked over, slipping an arm around your waist. "Hey, cariño. Everything okay?"

The guy quickly stepped back, realizing who Carlos was. "Oh, hey, big fan. Just talking about the race."

Carlos nodded curtly, his grip on your waist firm. "Enjoy the race."

As the fan walked away, you turned to Carlos, smiling. "Thanks for the save."

"No problem," he replied, his expression softening.

"You know, I love how protective you are," you said, leaning into him. "And maybe when you get jealous just a little. It's cute."

He chuckled, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "Lets go get some food, cariño."

Lando

You were at a gaming convention, enjoying the various booths and activities. Lando was busy with a panel discussion, so you decided to explore. A fellow gamer struck up a conversation, discussing the latest games.

"Have you tried the new VR game?" he asked, clearly excited.

"Not yet, but it looks amazing," you replied, sharing his enthusiasm.

"Yeah, it's fantastic," he said, his eyes lighting up. "I wouldn't mind showing a beautiful girl like you how to use it sometime. It'd be fun."

Lando, having finished his panel, spotted you chatting with the gamer. Jealousy panned over him as he saw the guy flirting with you.

He walked over, slipping an arm around your waist. "Hey baby! What are we talking about?"

The gamer quickly felt the energy shift. "Just talking about the new VR game."

Lando nodded, his grip on your waist firm. "Cool."

As the gamer walked away, you turned to Lando, raising an eyebrow. "Really?"

Lando sighed, pulling you closer. "What?! It’s not my fault he was interested in my girlfriend."

You smiled, kissing his cheek. "Key word in that sentence is “my girlfriend”."

Sebastian

You were attending a charity event, mingling with various guests. Sebastian was busy with the organizers, so you decided to socialize. A charming gentleman approached you, engaging you in a lively conversation about the event.

"It's great to see so many people supporting this cause," he said, smiling.

"Absolutely," you replied, enjoying the conversation.

He leaned in a little closer, his tone becoming more personal. "Especially when someone as beautiful as you is here."

You smile nervously, not expecting his direct approach. "Oh, thank you," you responded, trying to look around and grab Seb’s attention.

Sebastian, having finished his duties, spotted you talking to the guy, looking around. He saw the man getting too friendly and walked over to you.

He walked over, slipping an arm around your waist. "Hey, honey. Would you like a drink? Oh! Who's this?"

The gentleman quickly realized he was intruding. "Just talking about the event."

Sebastian nodded, his grip on your waist firm. "Enjoy the evening then."

As the man walked away, you turned to Sebastian, raising an eyebrow. "I love when you get protective, it’s hot, the jealousy too."

Sebastian smirked, pulling you closer. "Jealous? Me?! Don’t know what you’re talking about."

You smiled, kissing his cheek. "Mhmm, yea, yea. Let’s get my drink."

Jenson

You were attending an award ceremony, mingling with various celebrities. Jenson was busy with interviews, so you decided to socialize. A charming actor approached you, engaging you in a lively conversation about the a.

"It's great to see so many talented people here," he said, smiling.

"Agreed," you replied, engaging in the conversation."All nominees this year were very talented and impressive."

He nodded thoughtfully, then leaned in a little closer, his gaze lingering on you. "Speaking of impressive, I couldn't help but notice how stunning you look tonight."

You chuckled softly, flattered but unsure how to respond. "Thank you, that's very kind of you."

He grinned charmingly. "So, are you here with anyone special tonight?"

Jenson spotted you talking to the guy. And started to walk towards you.

He walked over, slipping an arm around your waist. "Hey, baby. Who's this?"

The actor quickly realized you were taken. "Just talking about the event."

Jenson nodded, his grip on your waist firm. "Yea, it’s a nice thing."

As the man walked away, you turned to Jenson, raising an eyebrow. "Nice thing?"

Jenson sighed, pulling you closer so he can squeezing your waist. "Didn’t know what to say without being rude so that's what came to my mind."

You smiled and kissed him gently. "Let’s go check out the catering at this 'nice thing'."

Daniel

You were exploring a quaint art gallery in Paris, enjoying the serene atmosphere and the beauty of the artwork on display. Daniel had left his phone in the car, leaving you to appreciate the art alone. As you admired a painting, a friendly gallery assistant approached, eager to discuss the artist's work.

"This piece here is quite exceptional," he said, gesturing towards a vivid abstract painting. "It really captures the essence of movement and emotion."

"It truly does," you replied, appreciating his enthusiasm. "The color blending and stippling is beautiful."

He smiled warmly. "You have a keen eye for art. Beautiful art for a beautiful girl."

"Oh, thank you," you said, trying to show no interest.

Daniel walked into the gallery, He approached, slipping an arm around your waist. "Hey, baby. Finding any new favorites?"

The gallery assistant reacted quickly to Daniel's presence and backed away. "Just discussing the beautiful artwork," he explained.

Daniel nodded casually. "Thanks for your insights, but we're good here."

As the gallery assistant politely excused himself, you turned to Daniel with a playful smirk. "Oh, someoness jealouss?"

Daniel chuckled softly, pulling you closer. "No, no. Protective, yes. Jealous, could never be me."

You smiled, leaning in to kiss his cheek. "Mhm hm, if you say so."

2K notes · View notes

bytemee · 27 days ago

Text

THE GIRL IS MINE — YU JIMIN.

"the stars, they aligned. the girl is mine."

synopsis. word around campus is karina doesn’t date, but word quickly becomes that she’s completely smitten with you.

pairing. mean!sorority!karina x loser!gp!reader

warning(s). possessive!karina, she's really down bad and only likes u, kissing, and let me know if there's more.

words. 1.2k

authors note. thank you for the request! hope u enjoy !!!

navigation. main masterlist. series masterlist. prev. request.

karina didn't feel the need to tell everyone about your relationship. she was content with keeping you to herself. and, honestly, she thought it was rather obvious, anyway.

you had always been karina’s puppy.

except for some time, people thought wonyoung had you on a leash.

because one second, wonyoung was the one giggling and grabbing your arm at parties, dragging you around as if you were her own personal assistant. and the next?

next, it was karina.

no transition, no explanation.

just a sudden switch.

one day, you were wonyoung’s little plaything, and the next, karina had her claws in you so deep that even wonyoung didn’t bother fighting it.

which is why the sorority girls were still confused.

until this morning.

you rubbed at your eyes as you walked into the kitchen, still half-asleep, dressed in nothing but sweats and a loose shirt, your hair an absolute mess. you had crashed at the house last night because, of course, karina didn’t let you leave.

the smell of coffee pulled you toward the counter, and as you lazily grabbed a mug, you heard a familiar voice pipe up.

“wonyoung, your girl toy is out here.”

you blinked.

yeji, sitting at the kitchen table, was scrolling through her phone, barely looking up as she addressed wonyoung, who was fixing herself a smoothie.

wonyoung turned, took one look at you standing in front of the coffee machine, and let out an unimpressed hum.

“not mine,” she said casually, sipping her drink.

that made yeji pause. she finally glanced up from her phone, raising a brow.

“really?”

“yeah,” wonyoung sighed, as if it was a mild inconvenience rather than a fact of life. “cuz, karina like...obsessed with her.”

you turned, blinking at the two of them, still groggy.

“…good morning?” you mumbled.

yeji looked you up and down, then shook her head with a small laugh.

karina chose that exact moment to walk in, dressed in one of your hoodies, her long black hair slightly messy from sleep. she didn’t even spare the other two a glance—her only focus was you.

she walked right up to you, stealing the coffee you had just made and taking a slow sip before pressing it back into your hands.

you just took it, unfazed.

wonyoung and yeji exchanged looks.

karina didn’t even acknowledge them as she pulled you in by your shirt, standing on her toes to press a lazy, lingering kiss to your jaw.

"why’d you leave bed?" she mumbled.

you scratched the back of your head, suddenly a little nervous with the way the other two were staring. "just wanted coffee…"

karina huffed, tugging you closer, leaning her head against your shoulder like she was still too sleepy to care about anything else.

"you’re so annoying," she murmured.

yeji let out a low whistle.

“yeah, okay,” she said, shaking her head in disbelief. “i'm lost.”

wonyoung sighed, taking another sip of her smoothie.

karina ignored her, instead focusing on you, her arms wrapping around your waist. "come back to bed," she mumbled, kissing your neck.

"i just woke up, though—"

"come back to bed," she repeated, this time biting your skin to punctuate her words.

you didn't have much choice after that.

as karina pulled you back toward the bedroom, yeji couldn’t hold in her disbelief anymore. she blinked a few times, clearly still processing everything she’d just witnessed.

"wait, hold on," she finally said, staring at karina’s back. "so, you two—are you guys sharing the poor girl?"

karina, still holding you close, didn't miss a beat. she glanced over her shoulder with a lazy smile. "no, i’m not sharing my girlfriend. she’s mine. always has been, always will be."

with that, she shut the door behind her, leaving the other two girls completely confused.

"girlfriend?" yeji said, eyes wide. "since when did you date? i didn't know you two were dating!"

the frat that had a long-standing history with the sorority girls had thrown a party tonight, and they begged for the sorority’s help in throwing it. honestly, it was a little ridiculous how much they had pleaded for karina, ning, winter, and giselle to pull strings and help get the party off the ground. the frats always counted on the sorority to make their parties stand out, and the sisters? well, they didn’t mind—especially since they got to be in charge of the guest list.

karina, as the president of the sorority, had a lot of attention on her. she was the one everyone wanted to talk to, the one everyone wanted to impress—and naturally, she didn’t give a damn about it. but one frat guy? one frat guy had been way too persistent to get her attention.

"so, karina," he said, sidling up to her like he thought he was all that. "you don’t have to be all president-y and in charge tonight. how about we get away from all this, huh? maybe somewhere more… private?"

if it wasn't for her role, she would've slapped the smug look right off his face.

instead, karina forced a sweet, controlled smile, puckering out her lips like she was thinking it over for a second, then just nodded. "yeah, i bet you think that’s a good idea," she said with a polite smile. "but i’m actually taken."

he laughed, like he didn’t believe her. "come on," he said, "you? you don’t date. i’ve seen you at these parties—you’re always hanging out with your sisters. you’re telling me you’re in a relationship?"

karina raised an eyebrow, not missing a beat. "yeah," she said. "with my girlfriend."

the guy just rolled his eyes. "i’m just saying… if you were really with someone, why are you still standing here talking to me?"

karina tilted her head, looking him dead in the eyes. "because i'm the president of the sorority, and i have to be nice," she said, not even trying to hide the sarcasm. "but it’s not like i want to be standing here with you."

before he could protest, karina took a step back, her attention immediately shifting when she saw you walking by with winter. without a second thought, she reached out, casually pulling you back by the arm, her fingers slipping down your wrist until her hand was in yours.

you turned to her with a smile.

"karina," you greeted. "what's up?"

without missing a beat, she stood up a little straighter and reached out, gently pulling you back by the arm. "wait, let me fix your hair," she said, as she lightly ran her fingers through your hair, brushing a few stray strands from your face.

"you're so cute," she said, and when her gaze met yours, you felt your face go hot. "it makes me want to kiss you."

you blinked. “oh.”

she cupped your face, leaning forward to connect your lips in a kiss. she kissed you once, twice, and a third time for good measure, just to prove a point. when she finally pulled back, karina tugged you along, glancing over her shoulder and finally acknowledging the guy, who had been watching the whole exchange with an open mouth.

"see? taken," she said. "not a chance."

the guy could only watch as you let karina drag you away, completely bewildered.

winter, who had also been watching from the side, shook her head.

"now i have to third wheel the two of them the whole night," she complained, crossing her arms.

taglist - @brocoliisscared @spidrgamer @kimminjiissosjdirbidnsjje @kyakpack @snsgf @sscieloz @fruityg0rl

675 notes · View notes

slimyalienfreak · 6 months ago

Note

Hiya, i saw ur requests are open and that you write for sonic series, so i was wondering if you could write sonic boom!shadow x fem!hedgehog reader? You can make up the story, and what happens! But i have to ask if it can be fluff. I read a little to much angst today cant handle more😭

I looove shadow sm, all and any shadow😆

Thanks! Drink,eat , sleep, shower

-Monty 🦔

Boom!Shadow Fluff HC’s With Fem!Hedgehog Reader

Hey there! Thanks for the ask!

I don’t know why but as soon as I saw this request was to have Shadow be in a hugging session with reader. Don’t know why but that was the first thought I had when I saw that you wanted fluff (by the way I kind of wrote this to at least be platonic but some views can be considered romantic in a way. You can view it as whatever). Plus that boy does deserve a hug, regardless of which Shadow it is. Also sorry if this is a bit shorter than my regular ones. Anyways, hope you like this. ~Blaze/Dawn

Pronouns: She/Her (Or At Least Fem Intended Since I Only Used She/Her Once)

Warning: ❌

Requested: Yes/No

Characters: Shadow + Mentions Of The Other Sonic Crew

Proofread: ❌

Credits: Icon by punkmp4 on Pinterest + Banner by emiljjj (Edited By Me) on Pinterest

———————————

- ‘God today has been overwhelming’ Shadow thought to himself, his face clearly showing annoyance. Honestly he wasn't sure how long he could deal with another presence. The only thing that was currently on his mind and the only reason he even bothered to put up with the others was seeing you. A while ago he found himself becoming fond of you in his own brooding way. Normally he wouldn’t consider himself getting close with anyone especially since he’s known for being a loner but as he manages to spot you more often due to you often hanging out with that stupid hedgehog sonic and his friends he couldn’t help but get drawn towards you. It’s like you had some sort of aura about you that made him drawn to you. So he decided to hang out with you much to your surprise at him wanting to be around you but you weren’t going to complain.

- You’re the only person he actually tolerates out of everyone he knows. To him Sonic is too annoying, Tails is alright in a way but still isn’t too fond of him, Knuckles isn’t that smart, Amy is also alright he just doesn’t hang out with her too much so he doesn’t have that much of a bond with her and he just finds Sticks batshit crazy. So with you it’s like he’s getting some fresh air after being stuck in a room for hours. He actually enjoys being around you, you won’t get him to outright admit it but in a way you can tell he does because he treats you way differently compared to the others which doesn’t go unnoticed by them.

- Some of them actually find it cute (Mostly Amy) and some of them like to tease Shadow about (Most probably either Sonic or Knuckles) but you don’t mind it. You actually find it cute in a way as well. Managing to break his standoffish persona. Undeniably he kind of has a soft spot for. Often he finds himself getting defensive when someone like Sonic teases him for his said soft spot. Like Sonic could be saying stuff like “You really like her don’t you Shadow” which causes Shadow to tell him to shut up.

- Everytime he has a shit day or just wants to decompress he finds himself thinking of you. He could just be in a grumpy mood then he just sighs to himself and thinks to himself ‘I’m going to see [Name]’. It’s like his brain just automatically thinks of going to you as soon as he experiences a single bad emotion. He knows that you won’t judge which admittedly makes him happy inside. Honestly after having others getting on his nerves he rather have someone who knows how to calm him down. Honestly, this dude has so much built in anger it’s unbelievable.

- Eventually, after enough walking he managed to arrive at your place and immediately felt some sort of weight being lifted off of his shoulders. He knocked on the door crossing his arms waiting for you to open the door. He then saw the door crack open and saw the familiar hedgehog he actually likes. “Oh hey Shadow!” You said, happy to see your buddy again “what are you doing here?” You asked before he answered “apologies for interrupting you but is it alright if I stay here for a bit?” He asked to which you happily let him in.

- As soon as you sat down you found him following you before plopping himself head down into your lap “had another one of those days huh?” You asked slightly chuckling before placing a hand on his head “you have no idea. I swear that damn hedgehog is out to purposely ruin my day.” He grumbled as he felt himself softening while having your hands running through his quills “oh come on he’s not that bad you know?” You could hear Shadow slightly snorting to himself before replying “you hang out with him, your used to his idiocy” you chuckled at his answer before continuing to play with his quills, occasionally seeing him nuzzle his head in your lap even letting out some noises indicating that he was enjoying the attention he was getting from you “your weird you know that Shadow?” You joked with him “no I’m not” he retorted back even starting to hug you loosely around your waist “yeah whatever you say” you smiled to yourself hearing Shadow scoffing to himself as the two of you enjoy each other's company. “thanks for being there for me [Name]” he quietly said but you could hear him very well “no problem Shadow”.

———————————

1K notes · View notes

planetallure · 7 months ago

Text

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ dark!fic recs

CW: once again, these works contain dark and explicit themes that may be upsetting or triggering to some. please use your discretion and discernment.

@cherienymphe : when i first seriously got back on tumblr and got into dark!fanfic, cherie's was one of the first blogs i found. her writing was essentially my indoctrination. it was terrifying how much i loved it/her writing. truly phenomenal. i've read quite of few of her stories (mainly for rafe cameron, jj maybank, steve rogers, and peter parker) but i'll list my faves.

"when the party's over" - its something about this series...i think about it often. if you're into forced pregnancy or corruption tropes, tap in.

"wicked games" - i actually first read this one on ao3 before i discovered her tumblr and was absolutely gagged. another one i think of often.

"amnesiac" - the first series of hers that i ever read. absolutely traumatized me and i sobbed reading it. amazing storytelling.

"the hills" - another bangerrr. a one night stand ends in complete and total blackmail and entrapment. he just wanted to give her a better life *clown face emoji*.

"his father's son" - after ward death, rafe takes over the reins in more ways than one.

"teenage dirtbag" - this series single handedly made me a jj girl. the tension??? yup yup mhm.

"the less i know the better" - ironically my favorite part of this story is readers relationship with rafe but seeing jj slowly and then rapidly descend into madness? yeah.

"claimed" - a/b/o dynamics. brought me back to my wattpad days. still eat it up.

"daddy dearest" - steve meets a single mom and decides to be not the stepdad, but the dad who stepped up.

i'll be honest, i was a non believer in dark!peter but: "she's with me", "one last time." "suburbia" and "basic training" made a believer outta me. hands. down.

@lambtotheslaughterr : it absolutely amazes me the things that come from her mind. the level of creativity and originality needs to be studied. oona, you are criminally underrated.

“rise” - the first series of hers that i read. arguably the best series i’ve read on here thus far. this is the first part to her “the day the world ended” universe and it completely blew me away. i couldn’t believe that something like it had come from some silly little boat show. just brilliant.

“when the bough breaks” - the first work of hers i read. this one for me was a heartbreaking slow burn story, but the smut…makes up for it. yes yes.

“i burn” - sex!addict reader x rafe cameron. need i say more? actually, i will. the smut and tension in this one towards the end? it was shameful how turned on i was.

“one way or another” - buckle up, grab a snack, and prepare for the ride of a lifetime. that’s it.

“something wicked this way comes” - a single mom trying to escape her past, except her past is rafe cameron. this was one very spooky scary la la.

"summit" - the second part to the tdtwe universe. its still brand new but its already feeling like another banger, i mean it's oona. tap in.

@harryspet : rae was also apart of my indoctrination and boy did she do what needed to be done. her perfectly curated moodboards alone did it for me. very mindful, very demure.

"homestead" - what can i say...i'm a sucker for pregnancy stories :( and this series was no exception. absolutely delectable. enjoy.

"well kept" - classic millionaire ceo x reader, my younger wp reading self cheered gleefully. my love language is acts of service and boyy was this one speaking my language. had me at "scheduled braiding appointment."

"bambi eyes" - this one was one of those that made me want to take a good long look in the mirror and ask myself, "is this who we are...is this what we represent?"

@sherrybaby14 : this one is for the mcu girlies. more fics than you could ever ask for. everyone say "thank you, mother!"

"the distraction" - i'm starting to notice a kidnapping/stockholm syndrome pattern here...ANYWAY! work is realllyy stressful for steve and you just happen to be the perfect distraction.

@straywords : she's no longer active but her incredible writings remain so please, peruse. its like a beautiful museum over there.

"a break" - *gasp* another pregnancy story! stucky edition.

@darkficsyouneveraskedfor : an icon, a legend, she is the moment! another infinite library for my mcu girls. roo has all you could ever want or ask for.

@perlelune

"all too well" - yes, yes, another one, its who i am. rafe cameron proving once again that you can't escape him.

"lucky" - best friend!rafe x reader. he didn't know what he had until it was almost gone

"tag, you're it" - never read a scream fanfic before this one but boy did i have fun! chad is so pookie in this too :(

@honestsycrets : back when i was in my miguel era, sy single handedly kept me fed.

"starved | mio" - "mio", in which you babysit mayday and it gives miguel baby fever and "starved", in which he made you a mom...but its left less time for other activities.

"stung" - sex pollen/abo. reader gets bitten by an anomaly causing a reaction that only miguel can cure

"amor y respeto" - he just can't love you the way you need to be. so you and miguel break up...at the worst possible time.

"exclusive" - you and miguel are fuckbuddies. you want more, but miguel can't bring himself to give it to you. so you find company in hobie, who's there for you in all the ways that you need. miguel's not happy about that.

"canary" - you're a singer in the 1920s who's fallen in with the dangerous o'hara brothers.

"grande" - sex!worker miguel x assistant!reader. think...a pepper x tony kinda dynamic. except, miguel doesn't take kindly to certain slights. :)

@starfxkrinc : last but certainly not least! moony is a ridiculously talented writer and a mutal of mine. i found her early on during my resurgence on here. this is her new side blog (rip lovesickbrat and starfxkr!!) luckily she was able to salvage a lot of her past works and is back like she never left. i recommend her "western nights" series (really just the trailer park!jj tag in general) and her "ode to eaters" au. a queen of all things taboo. she does it for the girls who are drawn to the dark and scary. the gross and weird. <3

#lari's fic recs #dark!rafe x reader #dark!rafe cameron #dark!steve rogers #dark!steve rogers x reader #dark!peter parker #dark!peter parker x reader #dark!jj maybank #dark!jj maybank x reader #dark!ethan landry #dark!ethan landry x reader #dark!ransom drysdale #dark!random drysdale x reader #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #rafe x reader #jj x reader #rafe cameron x reader #jj maybank x reader

2K notes · View notes

griffonsgrove · 1 year ago

Note

omg hello!! I saw you post those vox headcanons and wow I was literally kicking my feet and giggling LOL. I also saw you take requests right now! (at least that’s what it said in your rules) and I wanted to request something : D

could I request general alastor headcanons with a GN! Reader please ? :D

Thank you!

General Dating Headcanons | Alastor

a/n: Of course my dear!! I love how Alastor is portrayed in the series, he’s easily one of my favorite characters! I’ve been wanting to do these for quite a bit, so thank you for the request!

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Wordcount: 1991

Cw: Hazbin Spoilers, minor violence, mentions of death, murder

(PLATONIC):

Ah so you managed to capture the attention of the infamous Radio Demon? You should be honored he even considers you worth his time! Not most demons have that luxury, they never live long enough to see.

Al strikes me as the kind of guy who knows everyone, he’s very observant and has eyes everywhere (his shadow friends extend throughout the entirety of the pride ring). He’s got connections in just about anything. He’s bound to have at least seen you once.

That being said, he views other sinners as inferior to him, if you don't have any power, he doesn't really see you as much of a threat (let’s be honest even if you did, he still wouldn't feel threatened)

He’s quite intrigued when he sees a frail little thing like you walk through the hotel doors. You're here on your own free will, seeking redemption? Oh, this will be quite entertaining.

You’re well aware of who he is, having been in hell for quite some time, even before his 7 yearlong disappearance, you knew to be wary in his presence.

It often left you being timid or skittish around him at first.

The deer demon had a knack for popping up at the most inconvenient of times, out of nowhere it seems (perks of being able to shadow travel). He would scare the daylights out of you nearly every time. Whether it was intentional or not, it always got a good laugh out of him.

And that smile…He was always smiling, you can't ever recall a moment where he wasn't, not even a falter. It's definitely an intimidation tactic you think. After all, you're never fully dressed without one!~

Despite this, he’s a charmer. He has this flare about him that oozes confidence whenever he speaks with you, to anyone really. He’s able to talk his way into and out of anything. One of the many perks of being a showman. Alastor is witty, charming and entertaining to say the least. Life is never dull with him around.

And if you happen to be from the same time period?? It’ll only want him to be around you even more! Finally, someone he can relate to in this cesspool.

This man is quite the chatterbox. He looooves to reminisce about the good ol’ days, always talking about how things were in his radio days. He could talk for literal hours and not break a sweat. You’ll often have to politely interject when he rambles on for too long, not that he minds.

Did I mention he can cook too?? Really well, surprisingly. He claims he learned from his dearest mother. He had to put a name to her famous Jambalaya recipe! When you tried it for the first time your socks were nearly blown right off from how much cayenne pepper he put into it. He likes a little spice.

He's!! Always!! Humming!! The man loves to sing, he often finds himself absentmindedly humming old tunes from the 20’s as he goes about his day. Whether he’s out for a stroll, enjoying a nice cup of tea, or running around the hotel, he’s humming.

This has been stated before, but Alastor is not big on physical touch from others unless he's the one initiating it. There have been many times where he’s pulled you into a little dance or twirl while he explains something. It never fails to surprise you each time.

He’ll often use his microphone staff to push or touch something, more specifically someone. He doesn't like to touch sinners that often, God knows where they’ve been. You’ve seen him whack Angel upside the head with it before, the spider tried getting a little too close for comfort. But for you he’ll make an exception.

Very well groomed!! He puts a lot of effort into his appearance, and cares about how he projects himself to the public eye. His hair is always neatly styled to perfection, shoes shined, and is always dressed to the nines. I mean did you see how mad he got when Pentious ripped a part of his coat off?

As the two of you begin to spend some more time together, you find yourself often having little meetups, the both of you would chat, share a cup of tea and just enjoy each other’s company. He liked to sit on the patio, he had a little table, and everything set up for you two.

Alastor makes sure to keep an eye on you regularly. He may have his shadow sneak around and stalk you while you're out. He’ll use the excuse that ‘Hell is a dangerous place!’, He can't have some low-life sinner trying to harm you, that would make him a terrible friend!

Undeniably has a soft spot for you that he’ll never admit aloud, he genuinely enjoys your company and likes having someone around that will humor him and listen to his stories. Grandpa.

Overall, Al is quite a good friend to have, you feel like you can confide in him at any point, he’s surprisingly a wonderful listener. The more time you spend together only strengthens your little friendship. Even to the point where you both will grow to have a mutual respect for each other. He initially scared you at first, given his reputation, but underneath all the ruthless chaos is a true gentleman.

(ROMANTIC):

My man is sooo conflicted at first, He’ll spend hours in his den thinking about his feelings. (We’ve all seen the inside of his room, literally half of it is a swamp). The scenery can only soothe him so much as he contemplates on what to do.

This is probably where you will begin to less and less of him for a time being as he works out his inner turmoil.

But, once he finally comes to terms with these undeniable feelings, he decides to confront you privately, away from any prying eyes. Ahem Angel…

Very old-fashioned, this is where he will properly ask to court you.

You’ll never know this but he was actually kind of nervous, he was worried you’d reject his offer, but imagine to his surprise when you said yes!! He kind of felt giddy.

Congratulations! You now have a cannibalistic deer overlord as your boyfriend

He’s such a gentleman, I literally cannot say it enough, the man was raised right and he respects you!

You literally never have to open a door with him around. He holds your chair out for you, always walks on the outer side of the sidewalk, pays for every meal and is constantly giving you compliments left and right. And they say chivalry is dead.

Alastor loves to gift flowers to you. Every few weeks or so he’ll give you a new bouquet. They're different each time, some have a meaning while others he simply thought you’d enjoy. You have a special place in your room where you keep them.

Now that you’re in a relationship, the two of you are basically joined at the hip. Wherever you are, Alastor is not far behind. He doesn't want to admit it but the overlord is kind of clingy. He doesn't like being too far from you.

If there’s ever a reason he has to be away from you, he’ll often have a few of his little imp dolls watch after you. You always thought they were cute little fellas anyways.

The both of you aren't exactly private about your relationship, but at the same time you’re not screaming it out from the rooftops either. Alastor is well aware of the dangers you could possibly face due to his status. He’s made a lot of enemies in his time, and doesn't want to see you get hurt on his behalf.

That being said though, no demon in their right mind would try to threaten you.

God forbid they touch you either. They’d be ripped in half before they could even get another word out.

He's fiercely protective over you. He tries to play it off as nonchalantly as possible, but you know he cares about you immensely, it’s rather sweet really.

Now about physical affection. Things will go very slowly in the beginning, as said before he's fine with things as long as he's the one initiating it. If you two are out for a stroll you’ll have your arm gently looped with his as you walk down the chipped sidewalks. You’ll have to be extremely patient with him, he’s not used to this “love” and “affection”

If you’re ever having a bad day however, he’ll slip out of his comfort zone for you, and allow you to hold onto him for as long as you please, in the privacy of your own room of course.

One of his favorite things to do with you, is to slow dance. There's something so intimate and special about it. It could be late into the evening, when everyone else had gone to their respective rooms for the night, If you listen closely though, you’ll hear the soft hum of music coming from Alastor’s den, he has you in his arms, the both of you gently sway in a slow waltz across the room to the quiet love songs emitting from his radio. It’s here that you truly savor these private moments with him.

Speaking of music, Al loves to sing to you. Oftentimes it may be a ballad or love song, and if you join in with him? He’ll fall for you even more.

Cooking! He loves to whip up all his favorite dishes just for you, oftentimes you’ll help him in the kitchen, even if it’s the smallest thing. It's become an annual thing you two like to do together. He makes sure that you get only the best meat that this side of hell can provide.

He’ll often call you a mix of different pet names, here's a few of his favorites: Cher, Darling, Beloved, Dearest, Love, Mon Amour, Doll

Which btw on the topic of meat, Al is canonically a cannibal, he’ll often eat demon meat in his meals, and will have you try it at least once.

Admittedly has gotten slightly jealous of his own shadow. The mischievous thing was always trying to steal your attention away from him, oftentimes it would work, you would always give in and humor him, saying that ‘Even his shadow needed some loving too!’. With a strained smile, Alastor shoots a glare at the inky mass of himself, who just looks at him with a smug grin.

Will have you meet Rosie at least once. She’s one of his other closest friends, and a real sweetheart. At first she comes off as really scary and intimidating. but the more you get to know her, and she's for certain that you wont hurt her friend, she’s much more friendlier.

You two actually bond together somewhat, having little chats about Alastor occasionally, or about her business.

It’s safe to say that this man would kill hundreds if not thousands for you. You have him wrapped around your little finger. If you ever have someone bothering you, they might as well already be dead, because this man will hunt them down like prey. And eat them too.

Honestly, Alastor as a lover is nothing short of wholesome. He’s so attentive and caring when it comes to you. Which is so refreshing to see, especially coming from one of hell’s most feared overlords. Things will most likely start of slow, but if you’re patient with him, all the hard work will be rewarded tenfold. He had initially thought the Princess of Hell’s Hotel was one of the biggest jokes of the century, but what he wasn't expecting was you to be one of the best things to come out of it. You both were cast down to suffer an eternal damnation in hell, but at least now you can endure it together <3.

#x reader #headcanons #dating headcanons #hazbin #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbinhotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor the radio demon #the radio demon #alastor #alastor x reader #gender neutral reader

4K notes · View notes

reignpage · 4 months ago

Text

Basketball Captain!Toji

Detroit Pistons: reaching for the ball

Warnings: 18+ minors and ageless blogs dni, bts of a modern au!smau (part 2 of Toji's series), can be read as a standalone but makes most sense with the context, cursing, mentions of blood and violence, general stupidity at a party, just one long foreplay really, not proofread

You really shouldn’t be here.

Not a party full stop, not trying to enact petty revenge against your shitty ex, and certainly not with Toji Fushiguro, captain of the basketball team, and resident fuckboy.

He’s taken you by surprise at every given turn. You hadn’t expected him to ask for your number from his friend, you hadn’t expected him to reach out just to complain about his placement on the List of the hottest men on campus, and especially did not expect him to let you into the gym just because it was raining, though he did shrug off your incredulous look with a nonchalantly delivered jab.

“Y’ were ruining my view with y’r ugly crying face.”

And somehow, you had let him convince you to use him to make your ex jealous, to show him what he was missing out on.

Now you, the girl who never drank, never wore short skirts, never stayed out too late, followed every rule to the letter, is now sitting firmly on Toji’s lap, slotting in perfectly like a puzzle piece, at a frat party.

It’s like you’ve somehow ended up in an alternate universe or woke up in someone else’s body. Maybe you’re in a dream. Except the searing brand of a heavy hand on your bare thigh is disproving any of those theories.

“You enjoying yourself?” His voice is low and gruff, you feel it vibrate against your body, lulling you into a sense of comfort. The rough denim of his jeans is warming your skin, his solid chest keeps you grounded, and his thick arms have you all wrapped up, balanced securely and protected from the night air.

You nod, head buried in the crook of his neck. Once in a while you inhale his musky aftershave, relishing in that freshly showered scent he always had. “My sources say Gojo throws a party at least once a week.”

“Guy likes to party,” is all he says.

There have been flashes of his white hair around the large house, disappearing among the crowds and into different rooms. He had greeted you when you first walked into the garden to make your way to Toji with a beer in hand like your partner in crime had instructed you.

Gojo was nice, very friendly, a little loud, but you knew that already. As the writer for the gossip column, you know every thing there was to know about everyone worth knowing. Which is ironic since you’re nobody and you knew none of these people personally. But the frat president knew you. He had greeted you like you were long time friends and pulled you into a tight hug.

“Hey, look who it is! My favourite person in the world.” He slung an arm over your shoulders and cheered with everyone else, seemingly oblivious to the heat rising on your face. “Thanks again for putting me top of the List. Nice to know people have taste.”

And then Toji was grumbling and wrestling you out of the rowdy guy’s grip to a quieter part of the house. He told you to explore the place, get familiar, freshen up your makeup ‘or whatever else chicks need’, and to text him if you find your ex first.

Now, here you are, making yourself comfortable on his thighs, goosebumps rising along your skin at the feel of his long fingers creeping up your leg and just teasing the hem of your ridiculously short skirt.

Some people would come over, once in a while, to talk to Toji. They’d say hi to you but they were mostly interested in knowing how the captain feels about the upcoming games. A few girls would stumble over, giggling and twirling their hair but they leave pretty quickly once they see Toji’s eyes fixated on you.

You have got to give him credit; he’s totally committed to the bit.

Perhaps a little too committed with how he’d frequently whisper right in your ear, warm breath trickling your neck.

“You look damn good tonight, ma.”

The way he says it, the low groan that he teases you with, makes you press your thighs together. It’s a completely inappropriate reaction; you really should not be feeling tingly from his flirtations. He doesn’t mean them. Toji is just playing the part, trying to goad your ex into a fight so he can ‘ruin the vibe’ at Gojo’s party.

Because, for whatever reason, Toji had beef with the man that seemed completely one-sided, if the hug the frat president tried to throw to the basketball captain was anything to go by.

You stutter out a ‘thanks’ and ignore the heat rising to your cheeks.

Toji huffs a laugh, tightening his hold on you before he leans back in the patio chair, taking you with him so you’re resting on him. Your skirt’s definitely ridden up your ass by now, but his large hand wraps around the flesh there like second nature.

Despite the chill in the garden, you’re content in his arms. The man runs hot.

It’s easy to get lost in his body; the man is built like a Greek god, all muscle and strength, carved straight from marble. And it’s precisely because he’s so firm and hard beneath you, that you forget your ex is just a couple metres away, leaning against a brick wall with a red cup in hand, glaring at you two.

“Dunno why Gojo let that guy into the frat when he’s so fucking ugly,” Toji grumbles.

You laugh.

Once upon a time, you thought you were lucky to be with him. That he was the catch and you were punching up; he certainly made you feel that way. Always reminding you that he could have any girl on campus, that the barista at your local coffee shop had given him her number with a smiley face, and that as a member of one of the most influential fraternities in the country, he could have any job he wanted.

But as you throw a glance at him, you realise all of that was false bravado. A Napoleon Complex, most likely.

And not once, since Toji picked you up, have you felt less than. He compliments you so frequently, so spontaneously, and so earnestly you can’t help but believe him.

“Why do you hate Gojo, by the way?”

The captain glances down at you, a slow smirk emerging on his face and you gulp at the sight of that scar stretching. You want to know more about it, simply because you’re a journalist, it’s in your nature to be inquisitive, and definitely not because you want to trace the skin there whilst feeling his voice rumble through his body and into yours.

With a shrug, he lifts his beer to his lips, and admits, “Don’t really hate the guy. Just wanna knock him down a peg or two.”

“I stalked Gojo for about two weeks just for a statement one time, y’know.” You stare at the people hooting and hollering over a table of beer pong, watching their jumping bodies, so light, so free like there isn’t a whole world of problems beyond the frat house’s territory. “When I finally cornered him after his lecture, he laughed and said I didn’t have to do all of that. I could have just texted him.”

Toji huffs an amused laugh. “That’s what’s annoying ‘bout the guy. He’s nice. Real fucking nice. But — and this is off the record, doll — guy’s got problems. And yet he’s always smiling. Just pisses me off, sometimes.”

And to that you just nod. You get it. There are some people out there who just seem to have it all, and you resent them for it, but they never hold it against you, and you resent them even more.

“How did you become friends with him anyways?”

“Just kinda happened.”

If you have to hazard a guess, you’d probably say it happened through the fact that they all run in the same circle. Big personalities like him and Gojo and Sukuna, are hard to miss. They’re the kind of people want to be around. Everyone knows Sukuna and Toji have been roommates since first year, allocated on a random basis at first, and they hit it off instantly, opting to room together since then.

With a sweep of the backyard, you enquire, “Where is Sukuna?”

“Somewhere, I’m sure. Guy doesn’t really like parties, actually.”

You gasp. “But my sources say he attends most of them.”

Toji places the bottle in your lap and you cradle it like it’s a treasure. He runs a hand through his hair and leans his head back with his eyes closed like he’s soaking up the moon’s rays. Earlier, you had told him you felt bad you were holding him back from enjoying his night, but he just patted your ass and said ‘it’s good to slow down, sometimes.’

“He does, but I think guy just likes to know all the drama. Likes to cause them too, the prick.”

You poke his chest. “Sounds like someone I know.”

He peeks at you with one eye, small grin on his lips.

“We’re a match made in heaven, doll.”

The conversation fades and you just rest your head on his chest, listening to the steady thumping of his heart and desperately trying to ignore the shiver that threatens to wrack up your spine with the graze of his thumb against that sliver of skin between your skirt and top.

Toji’s holding you like he’s been holding you since the dawn of time. There’s no awkwardness, no uncomfortable shuffles to accommodate your weight, and he doesn’t even look the least bit bothered that sometimes people will point and whisper at the star basketball player and some nobody cuddling up in the corner on a swinging bench.

You sense movement in the corner of your eye and spot a girl cozying up to your ex. He looks at you with a smug face.

“How did you know my ex would care?”

You stifle a gasp from the sudden clench of his hand over your waist. It was forceful but gentle, invoking flashing images of him towering over you, wrangling you into position. He could easily bend you over and take what he wanted. Toji is big and muscular, yes, but he’s also an athlete. There’s no doubt in your mind that he has the stamina and endurance to go all night and not break a sweat.

Shaking your head slightly, you bring the beer to your lips absentmindedly, taking a swig that leaves you blanching. How anyone could drink this, you’d never know.

“No guy wouldn’t care that his ex moved on pretty quickly. Plus, insecure little shits like him need to think that they got the better end of the deal. He needs to know you’re all sad and stupid over him so he feels important.”

Wise words.

It surprises you slightly.

Of course, most students at Eden are smart — being one of the top universities in the world means having high standards. But no one would ever go to a frat-party attending jock for advice, much less dating advice, and expect insightful revelations. You feel guilty for underestimating Toji. He’s actually pretty smart.

“Look, he’s got a girl on his arm and yet he keeps looking at you.”

It’s true.

You can feel his leery gaze sweeping up and down your body, and it makes you want to throw up. So you shuffle closer to Toji, impossibly closer, and he lets you.

“You look hot, doll. Just gotta own it, yeah?” His breath fans over you and it sets your skin ablaze. One hand rubs at your thigh, relishing in the soft, smooth skin and the other is gripping your hip. And beneath you, there’s something you’ve been giving your best shot constantly to pretend isn’t there.

Toji Fushiguro is hard.

And big, by the feel of it.

You already knew that, of course. You get lots of anonymous tips through your ‘Insider’s Line’, as you like to call it, voicing in exhilarated pants about recent escapades. It’s a hotline anyone could call. You’re the only person who has access to the voicemails that get left behind. And it’s never usually a tedious process to sift through the prank calls and the boring confessions to get to the juicy details about the ongoings on campus.

Many of those voicemails are to do with Toji. Whether that was about how he ‘so hot’ they could just ‘die or, like, combust’ or variations of ‘oh my god, that dick is fire, for real.’

You are not a prude.

You have too much exposure to much more graphic descriptions of people’s adventures to be shy about sex, not to mention, you’re an adult. A virgin, but still an adult with friends who are not shy about their sex lives, to put it mildly. In fact, you’ve got a certain art student friend who loves to rant all the ways she’d like a certain vandal to ‘paint’ her with his ‘artistic essence.’

Whatever that means.

And yet, despite all your pieces on the wildest, most inappropriate topics like ‘the hottest sex position right now’ and ‘is six inches really enough?’, you find yourself blushing at the realisation that the captain of the basketball team is sporting a boner that he doesn’t care to hide.

You clear your throat and with a whisper, you say, “I hope I’m not making you…uncomfortable.”

You wince at the awkward wording. What are you? A child?

Toji grunts.

“You referring to my boner, ma?” When you nod embarrassed, he taps your thigh with two fingers. “It’s your fault so you gonna lend a hand or what?”

If he was anyone else, literally anyone else, you’d be outraged. No man should talk to a lady like that and insinuate that they have a responsibility over someone else’s bodily reactions. It’s backwards and uncouth!

But…

Toji Fushiguro is not anyone else.

You know he’s joking; he doesn’t seem to have any qualms in making stupid jokes with you because he knows you write filthier things. He’s tested your boundary many times in the past couple days and you’ve grown accustomed to his humour.

And even if he isn’t joking, you have no problems with taking the opportunity.

You shouldn’t.

You just got broken up with the other day and it’s unwise to get personally involved with a person you write so frequently about. Bias must not be tolerated is your mantra.

Yet, your thighs are pressed tightly together, your nipples are poking through your top and you know he can see them, and if you were to slide a hand between your legs, you’d likely find wetness that is unbecoming of a lady.

Wait.

Among hundreds of voicemails, didn’t you receive one about how a guys likes girls sitting on his lap so he could feel their pussy?

Can Toji feel your pussy clenching, moistening and fluttering on his thigh?

You tilt your head up with a panic and you’re aghast. He’s already looking down at you with a challenging raise of his brow and a smirk playing on his lip. He knows what you’re thinking and he sees the question in your eyes.

Toji flexes his thigh in an answer, pressing it harder against you, and the friction is delectable. It leaves you reeling, hand clutching his chest for stability. His arms tighten around you, and he’s sitting up, no longer lazily lounging, but now drawing closer, muscles tense despite his calm expression. Green eyes flicker up and down your face, settling on your lips with a hunger you surely match. You’re entranced. He smells clean and fresh with a hint of something burnt, a maturity you want to explore. His scent is filling your head, washing away the smell of cheap liquor and weed.

Then, a foghorn like whoop pierces the mist.

Some guy had climbed the balcony and is threatening to jump into the empty pool. Everyone crowds around, laughing and cheering.

The moment is lost between you and your new friend, but he doesn’t let you up. In fact, he isn’t even looking at the idiot — not like you are, thinking about piece you could write about party culture — but rather at his stupid roommate, who stands on the other balcony, leaning against the railing as he looks on at everyone in disgust.

Perhaps it’s the sheer fact that they’ve been friends for a while, and so he knows Sukuna’s inclination for inciting violence and general nonsensical behaviour for his own sick satisfaction, that makes Toji so damn sure this is his doing. Or maybe it’s the fact that he knows his roommate has developed a fascination with pushing a certain someone’s buttons.

And when his phone pings and he receives a text from his pink-haired teammate, he knows it’s both.

If the fucker stains Gojo’s pool with his blood, you think he’ll complain to the Prez?

Toji doesn’t bother answering, he just pockets his phone again with a tsk. He’s totally gonna hide the guy’s car keys in retaliation later for ruining his moment. He was so close to getting a taste of a certain gossip columnist and the opportunity was gone and excusing herself to go inside for a blanket.

When she disappears from sight, weaving through the crowd still egging the loser on, the captain groans into the sky, squeezing his throbbing cock to adjust it. It’s gonna be a long night, he thinks, but then smiles to himself when he notices your dumbass ex still glaring with as much hate as the little guy can muster, and he knows he saw the whole thing.

Now, all he can think about is you returning as quickly as possible so he can pick up where he left off. He’s gonna push all three of you as far as possible tonight: the ex will know he’ll never be man enough for a woman like you and that’s why he couldn’t get you wet; you’ll learn to let go, trust the pleasure and embrace it; and Toji?

Well, Toji’s gonna learn that the quietest girls are usually the ones with the most to say.

#jjk x reader #jjk fluff #toji x reader #toji fluff #jjk fic #jjk smut #toji smut #jjk fanfic #jjk drabble #Toji fic #Gojo #Sukuna

1K notes · View notes

art · 11 months ago

Text

Creator Spotlight: @themetalhiro

Hi, I’m Metal! I’m a freelance artist from good ol’ New Jersey. My favorite things to work with are a lot of bright colors, exaggerated poses, and candid scenarios. I try to farm sensible chuckles whenever I can, so I’m also big into comics. I love making them about my life, and the media I’m into, and one day I’d like to publish my own series! Thank you to everyone who has gotten me this far!!

Check out Metal's interview below!

Did you originally have a background in art? If not, how did you start?

I guess so! It’s funny, I don’t remember a single time in my life that I wasn’t drawing as a hobby… somewhere in middle school (a little late, I know.) I put the pieces together that animated movies were made by artists, and that it wasn’t just for fun, they were paid to do it. The moment I discovered people could be paid to make art, I decided I would do that, too. Now I’m here!

How has your style developed over the years?

I think the best way to answer this would be with an example! Over the last few years, I have made more of an effort to draw more intentionally, which sounds silly. Now, I put more thought into my poses and step out of my comfort zone with shape language and composition. I had a phase where I drew everyone with a huge, perfectly circular head and no nose. That definitely did not lend much variety...

Which 3 famous artists (dead or alive) would you invite to your dinner party?

Ack! I’m so terrible at history! I’d love to give a well-thought-out answer about fine artists of old, but I don't think we’d have much in common… Most artists I admire and who have driven me forward creatively are the people behind comics I’ve read. Andrew Hussie, Bryan Lee O’Malley, Eiichiro Oda... these guys have inspired me greatly and had a heavy influence in developing my art style and sense of humor. I’d love to ask them questions about their processes and upcoming projects. I think it would make for an entertaining night!

Over the years as an artist, what were your biggest inspirations behind your creativity?

Outside of pure aesthetics like searing bright colors, layered clothing, and loud noises…. the best and most inspiring moments in my life were those surrounded by friends and loved ones! I cherish the hell out of memories of hanging around in fun locations, trying weird food together, and impromptu midnight walks... so I try my best to capture that atmosphere and my own memories in my work when I can, even if I’m imposing fictional characters on top of them. That’s always the core of it.

What is a medium that you have always been intrigued by but would never use yourself?

I would never permanently refuse a medium, but every time I pick up clay, I’m like a baby using its hands for the first time. Absolutely dreadful. If one day I could make and paint a figurine like the ones I admire in videos, that would be awesome... But for now, I’m not counting on it.

How do you want to evolve as a creator?

I’ve had an absolute blast drawing fanart over the years, and it’s certainly played a massive role in my growth as an artist. But my dream has always been to publish my own stories for y'all to enjoy! I have lots of worlds I want to introduce to you before I’m old and gray. I want to get faster, work harder, and get better at drawing interesting settings so I can get the wheels turning as soon as possible. I also want to stop avoiding the color blue like a coward.

What do you wish you knew when you first started out creating art that you know now?

Pay your taxes quarterly. Tablets will break at the exact moment you need them most, so have a spare. Wear your blue light glasses. You’re going to need to wear a brace on every joint on the right side of your body. It can be lonely sitting at your desk all day. The car on the side of the road that costs $1000 cash….. don’t trust it!!!

Who on Tumblr inspires you and why?

@cranity—They use absolutely beautiful colors and weighty line work. Everything looks so sharp and clean! I wanna put it all up on my wall!

@vewn—Their ability to crank out quality short films and illustrations packed with detail is incredible. The off-kilter perspective they use really sells disorientation and catches your attention like nothing else.

@nelnal—They have absolutely banger character designs again and again, I can’t believe one person’s mind can come up with so many creative ideas!

@jinx88kc—They have a beautiful and recognizable style, and the way they incorporate animation into their illustrations sometimes is SO cool!

Thanks for stopping by, Metal! For more of Metal’s work, follow their Tumblr, @themetalhiro! If you haven't seen their Meet the Artist piece, be sure to check it out here!

#creator spotlight #artists on tumblr #themetalhiro

3K notes · View notes

shinhyunjin · 18 days ago

Text

── .✦ little white lies.

⟢ pairing: hwang hyunjin x female!reader

⟢ genre: fluff, non-idol au, established relationship

⟢ word count: 1.9k

⟢ summary: the one where a street interviewer asks the story of how you met.

⟢ author’s note: hello, everyone! i don’t really know what this is, but i clearly got the idea from @/meetcutesnyc on tiktok. i feel like i could maybe turn this into a short series and write one for the rest of the members if you like this one enough. anyway, this is my first fic on this blog, so if you enjoy it please do show it some love<3

“Excuse me, are you two a couple?”

You stop in your tracks at the question, staring at the stranger that was now blocking your way, as he stood in front of you and your boyfriend—a small mic in his hand and cameraman behind him recording the scene before him.

Your first instinct is to look up to Hyunjin, who is already tightening the hold of his hand on yours and pulling you closer to him.

“We are” he doesn’t hesitate to answer.

You find the confused yet protective crease between his eyebrows particularly cute right then, so you smile.

“Would you mind telling us the story of how you met?”

“Oh, you’re that guy?!” You jump in excitement.

Hyunjin’s frown only deepens for a moment, feeling like he is missing a chapter—or a whole book—when the guy in front eagerly nods his head and laughs at your sudden enthusiasm.

One look at you, however, and a glimpse of the smile lighting up your face, is enough for him to go with whatever it is happening right then.

“Baby, they make videos on TikTok asking couples how they met” you explain to him nonetheless, caressing the back of his hand with your thumb to ease the small tension he felt after seeing you interact so comfortably with another guy—a stranger one at that.

“Oh,” Hyunjin lets out, suddenly feeling embarrassed over how defensive he was until then. “We met at an art gallery” he tries to redeem himself by kindly answering the question.

“It was actually kinda funny” you add with a small giggle that has all three guys smiling at you.

“If that’s your way of saying we were one second away from committing a crime, then—”

“Oh, hush” you playfully shut him up, enjoying all too much the dramatic roll of eyes he gives you in response. “It wouldn’t have been a crime. I think”.

Your last addition earns a quiet chuckle from the cameraman, and you wonder if that’s making it into the final video.

“Long story short,” you begin. “I was admiring one of the sculptures, minding my own business, when out of nowhere someone bumped into me. I was caught off guard, of course, so I inevitably lost my balance and bumped into the base that was holding the sculpture” you can’t help but give your boyfriend an accusatory look. “I saw my life flash before my eyes when it started swaying in front of me”.

“I was fast enough to hold it in its place before it fell, though” Hyunjin chimes in before the blame is fully thrown at him. “And thankfully there were only, like, two other people in the room with us and they were too busy checking out the paintings on the walls, so after exchanging panicked looks with this cutie right here, we rushed out of there before we got scolded”.

“We laughed it off as soon as we were in the next room and we couldn’t care less about the stares we got” you explain amidst a small laugh. “It was kind of odd, in a good way, because it felt like we knew each other already”.

“Yeah, it was weird in the best of ways” Hyunjin agrees with an adoring smile. “I obviously wanted to get to know her after that, and I just happened to have an extra ticket to a paid exposition within the main one that day, so I offered it to her in order to apologise for bumping into her and she luckily said yes”.

“And then after that I invited him for coffee to thank him for the ticket”.

Hyunjin chuckles. “And then I asked her out for dinner that same night”.

“So it’s fair to say it was love at first sight?” The guy asks with a grin.

“Definitely” the two of you answer in unison, locking eyes at the realisation and smiling in a way that was hard to tell whether you were aware there were other people in the world.

“We pretty much got together that same day” you admit with a shy smile.

“How long have you guys been together?”

“Four years,” Hyunjin replies.

“Four years and two months” you specify, just for the sake of teasing him.

He smiles and bites his tongue not to add ‘and eleven days’, because that would only lead to you doing the math and figuring out the amount of hours as well, and then him having to figure out the amount of minutes if he wanted to win.

It is a battle you had gone through more than once already, and he refuses to go down that road again—not when there is a camera pointing at you and your whole interaction would be posted on the internet.

“Wow, that’s a long time” the man in front interrupts Hyunjin’s train of thought, bringing the mic closer to you. “What’s your favourite thing about him?”

“Oh, I don’t think I can choose just one” you timidly let him know, looking up to Hyunjin and feeling your cheeks burn as his chocolate eyes are already focused on you, awaiting for an answer. “I really love how sweet and attentive he is. He is always there for me and helps me get through my hardships, even before I even have to ask for his help”.

“And what is your favourite thing about her?” He now asks your boyfriend, who finds himself smiling brightly over your wholesome words and struggling to take his eyes away from you.

“Everything” Hyunjin replies truthfully once he manages to divert his eyes from you—just like you, finding it hard to choose just one thing he loves the most about you. “She’s the most caring and selfless person I’ve ever met. She’s always checking up on me and my family, making sure we’re all okay. And I also need to mention her smile, because whenever she smiles my day is immediately made”.

You give his hand a gentle squeeze and lean your head on his shoulder for a brief moment, unable to hide the emotional pout forming on your lips, as his answer managed to warm your heart.

“So what is the next step in your relationship?”

“Moving in together” Hyunjin answers in a heartbeat, and you are grateful that it doesn’t come off as a surprise, for you had talked about it before—otherwise your heart wouldn’t have been able to take the news of his upcoming plans with you. “We needed to figure a few things out before doing so, but…” he looks down at you, smiling sweetly when your eyes lock and you nod your head, encouraging him to go on. “It’s about time we finally start properly making our life together”.

“And your names are?”

“Y/N” you’re the first to answer.

“I’m Hyunjin” he says.

“Well, thank you so much for your time, Hyunjin and Y/N” the interviewer wraps it up with a smile. “I’m glad you guys are going strong and didn’t end up in jail that day”.

The two of you laugh, and you lean into your boyfriend when he lets go of your hand and gently places his arm over your shoulders instead.

Exchanging goodbyes after being informed that the video would be up the next day, you resume your walk to the all too familiar café around the corner—the one you were heading to before the impromptu street interview took place.

“So those are the kind of videos you’re watching all day…”

“Some of them,” you nod. “I’ve sent you a few here and there. Good to know you don’t actually watch them”.

“I do” he fights back, almost offended you believe he would ever disregard something you showed him. “I thought they were all staged, though. Didn’t know people actually got interviewed on the streets out of nowhere”.

“Is that why you were so defensive when they first approached us?” You laugh.

He huffs, making his bottom lip slightly stick out and having you internally fighting not to kiss him right then. “I thought he was asking if we were a couple in hopes of us not being one, so he could ask you out”.

“Asking me out out of nowhere when I’m walking hand in hand with a guy that is clearly my boyfriend, all while there is a whole cameraman recording us?” You tease with a tilt of your head.

“Hey, who knows?” he defends himself. “Can’t control what kind of weirdos are out there chasing after online views”.

“You’re so cute” you laugh breathily, pressing a soft kiss on his jawline. “We look too much like a couple, if you ask me. They would look stupid to even try”.

“Yeah… I think the hand holding and matching outfits give it away too well” he nods with a teasing smile, motioning to the colour palette you chose together that day.

“Thank God they caught us on a good outfit day” your relieved remark earns a laugh from him. “I can’t wait for the video to be up now, I love the way we met”.

“I know you do,” he softly rubs your hand with his thumb. “Which is why I was surprised you didn’t tell them the whole story”.

“What do you mean?” You frown.

Hyunjin amusedly shakes his head, remaining silent as you reach the café and he holds the door open for you to go in first.

When you’re invaded by the strong yet pleasing scent of coffee and reach the—thankfully—short line to order, he adds, “You left out the part where later on I admitted I intentionally bumped into you just so I could talk to you”.

You laugh at the memory.

It wasn’t like he wanted you to lose your balance and make you almost drop a sculpture that you would be paying until the end of your days, had it actually fallen down and smashed on the ground.

He was just going for a little shove on your shoulder with his own, just enough to make you turn around and allow him to apologise right after. But you were too pretty, and he was too nervous—that alone making him miscalculate the distance between your bodies and slam into your shoulder harder than he had intended to.

He came clean one month into your relationship—the guilt of almost getting you in trouble just because he wasn’t able to earn up the courage to go up and talk to you like any other normal person would, was becoming too much for him to keep a secret for any longer.

You were already in too deep by then to even care, though. If anything, you were flattered that he wanted to get to know you so bad that he ended up coming up with the most stupid—and risky—of ideas in order to do so.

“I thought you weren’t holding back when it came to embarrassing me” he confesses.

You chuckle, shaking your head in both amusement and embarrassment, before pulling him forward in line with you as the people in front do so as well.

“Well, if I did mention that, you would’ve told them about how I already had a ticket to the private exposition and lied about not having one just so I had a reason to stick with you, so…”

Hyunjin’s lips part into a beaming smile, pulling you to him and pressing a kiss to your temple.

Little white lies could sometimes be beneficial; especially when they led you to the best relationship you ever had—the one you were sure would last for the rest of your lives.

“You’re right” he agrees with a smirk. “The internet doesn’t need to know how desperate we both were to get to know each other”.

829 notes · View notes

svnriseblvdd · 9 days ago

Text

neighbour! clark kent x new girl! reader

SYNOPSIS: with a new problem in smallville ridding people of their inhibitions and exacerbating urges, clark finds himself confronted with a dilemma as his neighbour arrives in his loft, afflicted by the same epidemic

WARNINGS: where to start?, slight dubcon (purely because reader's emotions are being exaggerated by an outside force (not a person though, it's unspecified)) but consent is verbalised later between both parties, clark is kind of pathetic (what did you expect from me?), kissing, palming(?), he's a sensitive guy, clark reacts to seeing reader's bare skin like a victorian man seeing a woman's ankle, kind of dirty talk, clark in that white t-shirt (i KNOW you know what i mean), blowjob, handjob, clark compares every sexual experience to ascending to a new plane of existence and finding paradise, he's a loud boy, couch sex, semi-public sex? (in the loft in the barn, but literally no one is around and they're alone for hours), fingering, clark using his super speed for illicit activities, cowgirl, missionary, it's not said whether or not clark is a virgin, but he's definitely inexperienced, clark being scared of his strength being a danger to reader, praise kink (neither of them react to the praise in any particular way, it's just that there's a lot of praise so if anything i'm just showing off my praise kink), mention of sex against a wall, creampie

this is inspired by the episode of smallville in season one where there's that flower that makes people make poor decisions and behave rashly, and also by this scene that i saw on tiktok with clark and lana (if anyone finds this i need them to send me the link... for research purposes) (EDIT: someone found it so here's the link) where he just folds the moment she kisses his neck. i also borrowed a few lines of dialogue from my clark jacking off headcanons.

also for someone who rarely spells the word rhythm right first try, i use it a lot in this. fair warning there may be accidental tense changes and pronoun changes but i've tried to go through and eliminate that.

this will probably be the last instalment of the neighbour clark series, although i'll probably return to this idea eventually to add thoughts, but they won't be tied directly to this series, just to neighbour clark as an au. thank you to everyone who has enjoyed and supported this series and been so patient with me (i had no idea it had been over a month since part four).

part one! part two! part three! part four! part five!

Clark can’t seem to escape you over the next week, not that he really minds much. But it’s become almost impossible to make it through an encounter with you where he doesn’t feel like he’s at risk of coming undone.

You’re always hanging out with Lana and Chloe in school and out of it, you’re at the Torch whenever he is, same with the Talon. He’s even come home to find you baking with his mother! What divine power hates him so much that you have to be everywhere he turns?

Sometimes you’re not even doing anything particularly scandalous. The only remotely salacious thing you did while baking was licking the batter off your fingers, and that definitely did send Clark through the loop. Your pure existence anywhere nearby just threw him off.

~~~

You have one thought and one thought only as you walk towards the barn that contains Clark’s little hideaway. The farm is empty besides him - Mr and Mrs Kent are in town at the market, so they’ll be gone for a while. You’ll have plenty of alone time with Clark.

“Clark?” You call as you enter the barn.

“Hey!” He greets, voice a little breathy.

“Can I come up?”

“Yeah, no problem.” You make your way upstairs, finding Clark reading through some book when you reach the top. “Hey, what’s-”

He turns, and the sight he’s met with has him pausing. You’re in a pair of teeny denim shorts, a black cropped tank top with thin straps, and an open button-up. It’s a warm summer’s day and your skin is practically glowing in the light that filters through into the barn. The cute little brown cowboy boots on your feet really tie it together. There’s nothing particularly out of the ordinary about your outfit, but something about it feels different. It feels… he can’t place it. Although maybe it’s just to do with the air you have about you as you stand there.

“What are- what are you doing here?” He asks.

You shrug. “Well, it’s just been such a long, hard day, and I missed you. Kept thinking about you. Thought we could hang out. We haven’t hung out together in ages, you know? Just the two of us.” You’re moving towards him as you speak. Well, it looks like you’re just moving further into the space - pacing, perhaps - but he’s sort of backing away the entire time, keeping equal distance, and you’re turning to match his direction the entire time. “It’s been so long, Clark.”

Your hand grazes over the telescope, but you don’t move it, don’t look in it (which he’s more than thankful for, because it’s currently aimed towards your house).

“Y-yeah, we can hang out.”

“What have you been doing?” You ask, looking around, then at him.

You take off the shirt, and it feels like he’s watching it in slow motion. The way your head turns, the way the material just gently, slowly glides down your smooth skin, and then it’s draped over the back of a chair. You stretch, arms reaching into the air above your head and showing off more bare skin. And as you reach the peak of your stretch, fighting the tension in your muscles and bones, you let out a purposeful moan.

Clark is going to die.

“Uh, just homework,” he says, swallowing to combat the dryness in his mouth as you turn towards him and begin to approach him.

You smile a little. “So smart. You’re so good, Clark.” Well, you and he both know exactly where that comment’s going.

“Uh- hm. Not- I’m not…” He’s backing away from you to keep some distance as you keep walking towards him. His foot hits a metal bucket, a loud clang! ringing around the barn as he stumbles a little.

“Not what, Clark? Not smart? Not good?” Clark glances behind him to make sure that he’s not going to trip over something else or fall down the stairs, and when he turns his head back to face you, he’s shocked to find you directly in front of him.

Your fingers hook onto his belt loops, tugging him closer to you by his hips. His eyes go wide as he looks down, then at you, multiple times in very quick succession, his face the epitome of bewilderment.

“We both know that’s not true, Clark. You’re good. And smart. And strong. You’re amazing.”

“Wh-what are you doing?” He manages.

“Come on, Clark, I know.”

“What?”

“I know how you feel. I get it now. I’ve been totally blind to it because you’re too polite to look. But I want you to. I want you to look. I want you to touch-” His eyes turn wider still, and he’s still looking confused beyond anything. “I want you to taste. I want you to do whatever you want.”

He sees then how dilated your pupils are, how heat radiates off you. You’re not yourself. Whatever’s been going around and getting to people the past few days has reached you. This isn’t you.

But everything he knows points to this thing, whatever it is, exacerbating existing feelings, not creating new ones. So maybe you do really want him. It doesn’t make it any better, though. It’s still taking advantage.

“Y-you’re sick,” he tells you as you lean in and begin to mouth at his neck.

His eyelids flutter and a smile begins to pull at the corners of his lips. No. No, he needs to be responsible. He can’t do this now. Even though you’re handing yourself to him on a silver platter, telling him you want him to. Even though his heightened senses are letting him know the way your heart begins to beat a little faster, the way your breath turns shallow and gaspy, the way you smell as arousal begins to form a little patch in your underwear.

“This isn’t really you. You’re sick.”

“Oh, trust me, Clark, I’ve wanted this for a while.”

“N-no, you’re not yourself. You can’t - ah!” He’s cut off by his own high whine when one hand releases his belt loop and instead directly palms him. His hips buck into your touch involuntarily. “Oh my God.” You apply the slightest bit of pressure, and watch proudly as his eyes roll back momentarily. Oh, he’s pent up. “N-no, no you- you’re sick. This is wrong.”

“Don’t you want me?” You ask.

“Baby, I’ve never wanted anything more than this, but-”

“Then take me!” You whine. “Fuck me!”

“Please,” he tries, although with your hand still on his clothed cock and his neck still tingling with the lasting effect of your kisses, it comes out more like a whine.

You lean up, kissing at his jaw. “What if it makes me feel better? What if it cures me?”

“I-I don’t think-”

“Don’t think, Clark. Please. Just- just let go. Just be with me.”

His eyes shut for a moment. “Fuck,” he breathes out as he reaches his verdict. He turns his head, meeting your lips. It’s a messy clash of tongues, desperate for one another.

You back him towards a desk that’s been set up against a wall, and push at his shoulders to make him sit down. He looks up at you with those angel eyes, pupils blown and eyebrows raised a little, lips pouting and all coming together to create a look that just begs you to ravish him.

You meet his lips with yours again, hands reaching blindly to find the hem of his sweater. You find it, pulling it up and over his head with as much speed as possible, finding that tight white t-shirt underneath.

“Fuckin’ love this shirt,” you mumble, kissing him again. “But I need it gone.”

Clark nods, eagerly reaching to pull the t-shirt over his head. His desperation means it gets stuck a little on the way up, and you have to help him get it off, but you don’t mind. You’re quick to get your hands on him, as he begins to kiss down your neck, you trail your hands over every muscled inch of him.

He sucks a mark into the skin of your neck, kissing over it when he’s done, like a finishing touch. “Oh, Clark,” you breathe out, nails lightly scratching over his stomach. He shivers a little, breath shaking.

Your fingers find his chin, tilting his face up to give him another kiss, before you’re getting to your knees in front of him. He watches with wide, adoring eyes as you begin to undo his jeans, kissing down his stomach as you do.

You make quick work of his jeans, bringing them halfway down his thighs, then pulling his boxers down far enough to free his cock. He looks painfully hard. Clark knows that this is his body’s standard reaction to you. You don’t. You’re also not aware of the way Clark’s thoughts run wild when he fists his cock to the image of you at night. Granted none of his fantasies have ever played out quite like today has, but he’s going to be thinking of this for a very long time.

Your hand wraps around his thick base, and he lets out a precious little gasp. You smile up at him, and from this angle, you look like a fucking enchantress. He swears you’ve got him under some kind of spell.

You move your hand. Clark is ascending to a new plane.

And then, with your hand still pumping him, and as Clark watches, you lean your head closer to his tip. Oh God. Oh God. Oh God.

You lick over his slit, and his head tilts back against his wishes. He doesn’t want to look away. Doesn’t want to miss a single moment. He wants to bask in the glory of this image forever.

And then your lips wrap around his tip, a sensation like no other, and you press forward, taking him as far as you can. “Oh, baby, please-” he moans, wrangling the urge to flex his hips forward. “Y-yeah, that’s it, honey.”

His head tilts back, eyes fluttering shut as your hand pumps what you can’t fit in your mouth. You watch him through your lashes, waiting for him to look back at you. But he doesn’t.

So you pull off.

Clark just about suppresses the whine that threatens to escape at the loss of the wet heat of your mouth, and instead a rather disappointed sigh leaves him. The world outside your mouth feels cold and lonely.

But you fix it by leaning forwards and beginning to kiss around his pelvis, smirking a little against his skin as he shudders. Your hand is still moving to a steady rhythm, and even though Clark misses the feeling of your mouth, the combined sensation of your slick hand and your kisses on his hips is too good. “Clark, honey,” you mumble, nipping at the skin over his hip bone. He gasps. “Would you look at me?”

“C-can’t,” he denies, shaking his head.

“Why not?”

“Because - oh, God-” You suck his skin just a couple of inches away from his base, disappointed to find no mark when you pull away. “Because if I look at you, I think I might cum.”

You give him a sympathetic look. “What would be so bad about that?”

“I can’t. Not yet. Have to - have to last.”

“Oh, Clark,” you hum with a pout. “It’s okay if you cum. I want you to. We’ll go as long as you can. We’ve got a lot of lost time to make up for.” You reach a hand up, smoothing it over the planes of his chest. “Look at me? Please?” Clark nods, looking down and meeting your eyes. “There’re those pretty eyes.”

You plant a final kiss on his hip before taking him in your mouth again. “Oh, please,” he whimpers, his hips twitching.

His hands rest against the desk beneath him, but not gripping it, instead clenching his fists until his knuckles turn white. You reach for one of his hands, guiding it towards you, but Clark shakes his head and pulls it back, placing it firmly on the desk again.

“Keep going, baby, please. I’m almost there.”

You pull away to breathe, jerking him off with newfound speed, and Clark’s breaths turn into panting moans. This time, when he feels the urge to throw his head back, he fights it. He holds the eye contact you’re giving him, just like you’d asked.

“Let go for me, Clark. Wanna see it. Wanna taste it.” Your tongue meets his tip as you wrap your mouth around the blushing tip of his cock, and you drag along his slit.

“Yeah. Right there. Yes, yes, fuck!”

Clark crumbles as he cums, shooting spurts onto your tongue and moaning through it, your hand and mouth working him through the pleasure and milking him for all he’s worth.

You grin up at him, kissing the head of his cock, and standing. He lifts a hand, cupping your face and shifting some fallen hair, smiling at you, blissed-out and awe-struck.

He leans forwards, catching your lips in a sweet kiss. “Couch?” You mumble, and he nods, taking your hands in his as he walks towards the couch. He sits down on it, an old and worn piece of furniture - but it’ll do. It looks sturdy enough.

You sink into his lap, knees either side of his hips, kissing him. You blindly find his hands, pulling them to the button of your shorts. The way his fingers move to get you out of those shorts is nothing short of eager, quick and fumbling in his desperation to become impossibly closer to you.

He finally gets the button undone and the zipper down, and you clamber off him, pushing the shorts down till they hit the floor, and you step out of them. Clark sits forward, pretty green eyes gazing up at you, flickering down to the hem of your tank top.

His nose nudges at the skin revealed beneath the bottom, and he takes a long breath in, eyes closed, as though he’s savouring a sweet smell. Through all this, though, his hands remain balled into fists at his sides. He doesn’t grip the couch cushions like you’d expect, doesn’t dare touch you, for whatever reason.

You toy with the hem of your tank top for a moment, Clark watching with hopeful eyes, and then you pull it up and over your head. You hook a finger into the band of your underwear - another light blue set Clark remembers fantasising about, silk and lace and matching the bra - and pause. “You wanna help me take these off, Clark?” He nods, lifting his hands and hooking his fingers into the material on your hips, tugging them down gently.

“Oh-” he breathes out. You push him back softly with a hand on his chest, straddling him again. His eyes trail down from yours, landing on your clothed chest.

You laugh a little. “Touch me, Clark. Then I’ll take it off and you can get a look.”

“Y-yeah. Yeah. Okay.”

You smile, grabbing one of his hands and guiding it to your core, fingers gently stroking over your folds. One finger slips through, and Clark almost gasps.

He’s slow with it at first, tentative, until you kiss him and whisper, “Clark, please.”

He adds a finger, finds a rhythm, faster, but still so gentle, like he’s afraid he’ll hurt you. He curls his fingers just right, prompting a moan from you.

“Oh, God,” he whispers to himself at the feel of how wet you are. Because of him.

You reach a hand between you, middle and index finger on your clit, and you begin to rub tight circles, gasping at the spike in pleasure.

Clark is watching every response to every bit of stimulation, and he looks down at your moving fingers. “Does it- does it feel good when you do that?” He asks. You nod. He meets your eyes, innocent as can be for someone who’s got two fingers buried inside you. “I want- can I?” He asks.

“Uh-huh.” Clark replaces your fingers with the thumb of his free hand. His hands are huge. You’ve thought about it before, plenty, about Clark’s large hands on you, on your chest or cupping your ass, but now that you’re actually with him in this setting, the thought turns you on even more. If only he didn’t seem scared to touch you.

“Am I-” Clark begins, looking up at you with hopeful eyes.

“You’re doing so good Clark,” you praise. “So good. Please.”

He leans forwards, kissing your neck, collarbone, down until he finds the tops of your breasts. He kisses you there too, while his fingers below speed up in their rhythm, driving you closer and closer to the edge.

“Clark- Clark, oh, please.”

“Good?” He questions.

“Yes. Yes. Don’t stop, please don’t stop.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he says, breathless.

Your hips begin to move with the rhythm of his fingers, and Clark watches in awe as you do, adding pressure to your clit and practically doubling his speed. Your eyes go wide at the feeling, intense but so, so good. He’s so fast, you think it’s inhuman. In fact you’re pretty sure it has to be.

“Hhhmmmm, Clark, how are - fuck, oh, God - how are you doing that?”

Clark doesn’t respond, and you don’t get the chance to ask again because all of a sudden, your orgasm crashes over you in a heavy wave that feels like it’ll never end.

You collapse onto him, legs trembling and chest heaving. You bite into his shoulder, hard enough to break skin possibly, which you feel bad for, but he doesn’t seem hurt by it.

“Oh my God, Clark. That was incredible.” You lean back, cupping Clark’s jaw and tilting his head so he meets your eyes.

“Can I- can you, uh…?” His gaze lowers to your chest momentarily, and you smile. Your hands reach for his wrists, lifting them up, pushing his fingers towards his mouth. He knows what you want, and he complies wordlessly, sticking his fingers in his mouth and licking them clean of your slick.

“That’s it,” you hum, guiding his hands to your back, to the clasp of the bra.

He unhooks it, dragging the straps down your arms, and discards it to the side. He stares at your bare chest in complete awe, green eyes shining.

You reach down, pumping his cock to get him good and ready, and Clark still struggles to shift his gaze. “You ready?” You ask, and he nods.

You push yourself up on your knees, and Clark’s eyes widen a little suddenly. “Wait, wait, what about protection?”

“I’m on the pill,” you say. “And I’m clean. Are you?”

“Yeah.”

“And do you still want to do this?”

“More than anything.”

“Good.” You line him up with your entrance, and sink down onto him.

If Clark thought anything before was good, this was a whole new level of ecstasy. “Fuck, oh my God,” he gasps.

His hands clench into fists at his sides again. You ignore it for now, even though you want nothing more than to feel his hands on you.

You begin to move, starting with a slow rhythm to ease Clark into it, and hooking your arms around his neck, kissing him. “You feel so good,” he whispers. “You’re tight, and wet, and warm.” He kisses you softly. “Baby, please.”

“I know.” You pick up your pace, bouncing on his lap, smiling at the way he moans. Your ass meets his thighs with a rhythmic plap! plap! plap! sound, your hands clinging to his shoulders for some stability, because he’s still not touching you, and more than confused, you’re starting to feel even a little insulted.

You kiss his pulse point, just beneath his jaw, and bite at his earlobe. Your hands slide up to his hair, giving a tug, and he moans. You notice his hands twitch, but he doesn’t touch you.

“Why won’t you touch me, Clark?” You ask, leaning back and slowing your hips.

He meets your eyes, guilt flashing through. “I-I just… I’m really strong.”

“I know,” you say, one hand squeezing at his bicep.

“N-no. I mean… like, really strong. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I’m not fragile, Clark.”

“I know, but - I’m inhumanly strong. And if something goes wrong…”

“I don’t care. It’s a minor risk. You know what I do care about? The fact that I have an insanely hot guy under me who refuses to touch me. And my legs feel like they’re gonna give out. So unless you want this to stop right now, you’re gonna have to take the risk.”

He nods. “Are you sure? I don’t want-”

“You won’t hurt me, Clark. I trust you.”

He nods again, hands finally finding your hips, and with the aforementioned inhuman strength lifts you up and lays you down on the couch, crawling on top of you.

“There we go,” you say, grinning and looping your arms behind his neck.

Clark slips back into you, beginning to thrust slowly. “You look so pretty under me,” he muses.

“Clark, you can’t just say that to a girl,” you giggle. He laughs a little, kissing you softly. He’s still keeping a slow pace, which you presume comes from the fear of hurting you accidentally by using too much force, but you’re impatient. “Clark, can you go faster?”

“Y-yeah. Yeah.” He speeds up, and props himself up with one arm above your head, while the other heads south, fingers finding your clit and beginning to rub circles onto it, just like before.

“That’s good. That’s good.”

He nods, and more sounds begin to flood from his mouth, matching your moans. “Oh, God, baby. You feel so good. You’re so good. So pretty.”

“You’re doing so well Clark,” you tell him. You wonder about his strength, about what he means by inhuman. Certainly, there was something inhuman about his speed earlier as he worked your clit. “Do I get to see this inhuman strength later?”

“Uh- I probably-”

“Please?” You clench around him for a moment.

He falters, hips stuttering a little as a whimper escapes him. “If you do that, I think I’d give you anything you wanted.”

“So I can see?”

“Yeah, you can see. I’ll show you. Promise, baby.”

Clark lets out a breathy moan, head falling into the crook of your neck as his hips gain speed, and he adjusts his thrusts to match it. “Are you close, Clark?”

He nods. He hardly trusts his voice. “Just need a moment.”

“It’s okay. You can cum.”

He shakes his head. “Not before you.” God, you’d think his invulnerability would give him some advantage in holding out, but poor Clark’s so sensitive that every stroke feels like absolute heaven and it feels like he’s barrelling full-force to what will no doubt be the most incredible finish of his life.

And then his fingers are moving against your clit just as fast as before, if not faster, desperate to get you to finish before he does. “Oh my God, Clark, what the fuck? How are you doing that?” A loud moan escapes you. “Fuck-”

“You like that?” He asks.

“Fuck, yes. What other inhuman abilities are you hiding from me?”

“I’ll tell you later?”

“You better.”

He leans down, kisses everywhere he can reach, your jaw, your neck, your chest, your lips, even drags your earlobe between his teeth and gives it a gentle bite. You really don’t care about Clark hurting you, because it doesn’t exist as a thought in your mind that he could. He wouldn’t ever lay a hand on you, and you know that. In fact, at this point you’d willingly let him throw you against a wall and take you there.

“Clark, I - I’m close. Please.”

“I’ve got you. It’s okay, baby.” He adjusts himself to grab your hand, holding it by your head and intertwining his fingers with yours.

You lift your head, searching for his lips, and he’s more than happy to gift you a kiss, soft in comparison to the speed and desperation of his thrusts. You moan into his mouth as you reach your climax, body twitching as Clark carries you through it, your walls clenching around him like a vice, drawing a particularly loud moan from him.

“That’s it,” he hums as you come down from your high. “You okay?”

You nod, a blissed smile on your face. “So okay.”

You card your fingers through his hair, pulling lightly, and Clark moans. “I’m close, baby. Please, I need it. Need it so bad. Can I - where do you want me to-”

“Inside,” you say. “Want to feel it.”

“Okay.”

His eyes meet yours properly, finding your dilated pupils, hazy eyes, and the utter joy in them, and that’s all it takes for him to be thrown headfirst into his own climax. He presses his forehead to yours, gasping your name as he spills his load inside of you. “God, you feel so good. Oh, fuck.”

“There you go. That’s so good, Clark,” you praise, kissing him and swallowing his whimper. “You’re so good, honey.”

Clark pants as he slows to a stop, giving you a soft kiss before he pulls out. He watches in awe at the way his cum drips out of you and onto the couch beneath you.

“You were amazing, Clark.”

“You were incredible,” he says, smiling at you.

You pull him onto you and wrap your arms around him, smiling when he does the same to you.

Needless to say, when Clark later demonstrates his inhuman strength by lifting a literal tractor above his head (not forgetting the joke you made when you met him about him benching a tractor), you’re quick to drag him up to his room before he can show you all the other superpowers he possesses. Although he does a damn good job of showing you that super strength.

taglist;

@mariswxt @blueeweeb @ssnapsaurus @i-got-a-bad-feeling-about-this @milestellerismybf @purple-1995 @writergiih @elysianrosie @glennussy @rainwaterxx @brinascorpio @withthistreaserisummon @babble28 @mollymal @alexcole1326 @mizzfizz @jiminie1028

#muse: clark #clark kent imagine #clark kent smut #clark kent x reader #smallville clark kent #smallville clark kent x reader

536 notes · View notes

aurorawritestoescape · 2 months ago

Text

ALL THE GOOD GIRLS GO TO HELL

Stepdad Joel Miller x f!reader || 4,7k

part 3 of A Step Into Hell || can be read alone

Summary: you can't stop thinking about your stepdad so you do something risky to have a little more of him. But Joel is not the "little more" kind of guy.

Tw: 18+ mdni, smut, step-cest, Joel's POV, reader’s pov, still technically dub con but reader's very into it, big legal age gap, dark!Joel, perv!Joel, possessive!joel, f!oral, both holes pronouns, cock pronouns, corruption, object insertion, fingering, creampie, degradation, anal, praise kink, daddy kink, pussy spanking, cum eating, swearing. The pics are for the mood only. Reader has no specific physical descriptions. Joel can lift reader.

A/n: huge thank you to my love @milla-frenchy for this inspiring ask, for beta-ing and for the title. ILYSM❤️ also thank you to everyone who enjoys this naughty series, I’m grateful for your love, your asks and your thots! I hope you’ll enjoy this part❤️‍🔥 dividers by @/saradika-graphics

SERIES MASTERLIST || MASTERLIST

”Joel, wake up.”

Joel opened his eyes, startled by a figure standing next to the bed in the darkness of the bedroom. He cursed under his breath when he realized it was just you.

“Hmm?” all he could muster to say, groggy with sleep.

“Can you — can we talk?” you whispered and beckoned him with a hand.

Joel was blinking at you for a few seconds and then his eyes slid over your barely clothed figure. Even in his half awake state he realized that it wasn’t normal - you, standing in his and his wife’s bedroom in your tiny pajamas like a slutty ghost, your voice shaky with nerves.

Joel got up, moving carefully so as not to wake up his sleeping wife. As he was following you downstairs a scary thought passed through his mind - what if your guilt brought you to him in the middle of the night? Did you feel bad for sleeping with your mother’s husband and decided to break your thing off? No! He’d just found a perfect fuck toy in his own backyard and he wasn’t going to let you slip out of his paws. So he decided to intimidate you and remind you that he had you by the pussy.

You

You thought that Joel was hot the moment your mother introduced you to him but when you started living under the same roof, his rough nature, gruff voice, piercing eyes and broad frame became your obsession. You wanted him to be with you, not with your mom. It was so filthy and naughty to think like that about your stepdad and your heart skipped a beat every time he was staring at you. You were scared that somehow he had read your mind and realized that his stepdaughter was a cock-craving freak. Needy and desperate for him.

You would have never confessed your feelings but somehow you got what you wanted anyway.

Yet your thirst wasn’t satisfied, instead it grew and grew until it took over your mind and body. You couldn't sleep any more - your nights were spent tossing and turning, sweating against the clingy sheets and thinking of Joel. Remembering his hands greedily exploring your body, his lips, too mean to give you a long kiss, but hot enough to brand you as his, his cock so deep inside you, it was hard to take a breath.

Tonight was especially hard. He hadn’t fucked you in three days - you were busy with the college, he worked late and your mom always seemed to be around. You were dying to get filled by his him, to feel his body pressed to yours. But most of all you craved to be degraded by him. Whenever you saw each other, he was cold, indifferent, looking through you and it was understandable - he had to keep your sick relationship a secret, especially in front of your mom, but it elevated your need even more. You wanted him to be mean, to call you a slut, to manhandle you, to give you anything to satisfy your twisted thirst for his attention.

All you had was your pink dildo; after Joel prohibited you from getting some on the side, the toy was your only respite. The one that still had Joel’s fingerprints on the shaft. No way you’d wash him away. You were so desperate you slept with it like with a damn teddy bear, it was always in your hands when you were alone in your bedroom, feeling empty without your stepdad’s cock plugging you, cold without his arms around your body.

You’d been fucking yourself sensless every night but all in vain. Your body and mind demanded him, your attraction turned into a fixation. You must have gone completely crazy with ‘the horny’ but on the fourth day in the middle of the night, surprisingly even for yourself, your feet carried you to his bedroom.

Joel

You led Joel to the kitchen and when you both entered, you turned on a little light over the cooker and stood a few steps away from him. Joel shivered, feeling chilly only in his boxers and a white tank top, and grumbled with an intention to intimidate you,

“What’s up?”

You looked anxious as hell, shifting on your bare feet, chest heaving under your cute pajama top, restless hands fidgeting with the lace on your shorts. You looked so small and vulnerable in front of him, that Joel’s cock twitched.

“I— Joel — sorry for waking you up but — I can’t sleep.”

Your stepdad furrowed his bushy brows.

”Want me to sing you a lullaby or some shit? How the hell is it my problem?“

He glanced at the clock and then glared at you, his hands on his hips.

“I have to get up in 3 hours.”

Avoiding his stare, your eyes slid down his broad torso and landed on his bulge. He followed her line of sight and smirked at his hard cock creating a glorious tent in his boxers.

“What a little slut. ‘s called morning wood. Don’t be flattered, jus’ nature.”

You quickly looked away, but he didn’t miss the way you bit your soft lower lip and pressed your thighs together.

“Wait...” His breath hitched. With his eyes narrowed he took a step towards you.

Could it be…? No way! Did you wake him up because you were horny?

Suddenly Joel was 100% awake.

You shifted back and pressed your body to the counter, looking embarrassed. And there was something else in the way you moved. Need.

‘Fuck. Me.’ Joel thought, staring at you, as a mixture of triumph and relief expanded his chest.

The bitch didn’t want to break up with him, she wanted him to break her back. A wolfish grin twisted his face as he cooed, inching closer,

“Aww, someone needs daddy’s milk to sleep better?”

He grabbed himself by the heavy balls and gave them a shake, stepping up closer to you. “Have it all right here for ya.”

Now there were mere inches between you and him. You looked so delicious - your eyes downcast, your body almost trembling out of your clothes, fast breaths making your chest flutter.

“My cock-hungry girl,” he whispered.

You shook your head, still not daring to look at him, but stayed silent. Yes, it must be hard for you to deny the obvious — you were madly horny for your stepdad.

Joel tilted his head and his smile faded. He shifted his jaw, suddenly serious and concentrated. There were so many ways he could ruin you tonight and he had just a few hours. Why did he always have so little time with you?

“Don’t worry, sweetie, I’ll take good care of you,” he whispered in your ear and bucked his hips against your lower belly, making you gasp. “Your pussy keeps you up at night?” —his hands slowly pulled down your shorts— “She wants my meaty cock?”— he lightly slapped your folds and you moaned his name — “Poor thing.”— He massaged your wet pussy —“Hungry cunt, always drenched.”— Slap!

“Ahh!” you cried out. Slap—slap—slap!

“Joelllll….”

Your hands grasped his strong biceps, nails hurting him like a little kitten would, while he was spanking your damp folds with his paddle of a hand.

“A few days without daddy’s dick and you run to him —,” Joel pushed his index and middle fingers between your folds —”in the middle of the night…riskin to wake up your mother.”

Joel shoved his thick fingers inside you and started fucking you slowly and steadily. Soon you were whimpering and shaking, eyes shut, lips parted, almost drooling.

“What if you woke her up, huh? What’d you say? ‘I need daddy to fuck me to sleep?’”

“Nooo, Joel—“, all you could do was to moan.

“You know what I like to be called.”

“Daddy -ohh, daddy…”

You spread your legs wider, watching his hand work your pussy until Joel spat,

“Eyes on me.”

You followed his command and he almost came in his boxers.

“Look at you, dirty slut, you love it. Love bein finger-fucked by your stepdad.”

Your beautiful face was twisted with pleasure he was giving you and he pressed his lips to yours and licked possessively into your mouth.

Joel was rubbing his clothed hard-on against your side, working himself up, and then pushed your clit with his thumb and started rubbing it up and down in rhythm with his fingers, that were knuckles deep inside you. You mewled into his mouth and soon your pussy began clamping on his digits hard and fast.

Joel parted from your lips and watched you closely, reveling in the way your body was succumbing to his dirty actions. He still couldn’t believe that he got to do that to his hot stepdaughter. Corrupting you felt so damn good.

When you fell into his arms, exhausted from the hard climax, he lifted you and helped you to wrap your weak legs around his waist.

“Daddy’s turn, sweetie,” he huffed, carrying you to the door, and after checking that the coast was clear, stepped into the hall.

“Lie down,” Joel ordered, locking the laundry room door behind you two and turning on the dim lights. There wasn’t much space but it was enough for him to have some fun with you.

“Right here? On the floor?”

“Damn! Ain’t ya a fucking princess,” he grumbled. “‘k, I guess my knees could use a little padding too.”

He grabbed a basket with dirty laundry and unceremoniously dropped its contents on the floor. Then he scattered the clothes with his bare foot and motioned for you to get comfortable.

You looked at the messy makeshift bed with a pout and then at Joel but his dark eyes told you to do what he’d said and soon you were lying on your back in front of him.

“Good girl,” he sneered, palming himself at the sight of you. Then he kneeled down with a grunt, settled between your legs after spreading them wide with his bear paws.

“Oops, daddy ruined your shorts, babydoll.“ A dark spot between your legs made him salivate and he quickly slid your bottoms off.

The view of your naked cunt, wet and pretty, was the last drop. His desire skyrocketed and took control over him completely. He didn’t care about anything else at that moment, he wanted to grab, thrust, squeeze, bite, eat you whole. He’d never felt anything like that before, the animalistic need to claim your every inch.

“Top up. Show me the girls.”

You exposed your breasts and he ogled your body for a few moments.

“Fucking ‘ell. I hate you. You can’t be this fuckin hot.”

Your little smile was cute but soon your lips parted and you gasped when he leaned down and pushed his nose right between your folds. He took a deep breath and growled, sending vibrations through your tense body. You jerked with overstimulation but Joel didn’t care. Keeping your thighs apart with his palms, he was busy sliding his nose like a credit card up and down your cunt, coating his face with your juices, collecting some with his plush bottom lip and tasting you greedily.

It didn’t take long for your thighs to tremble and when Joel sucked in your clit between his lips with a loud slurp, you came again. Joel drank everything your pulsating cunt had to offer, then sat back admiring the way your pussy clamped around nothing.

”Fuck. This cunt. Wish I could put you in my pocket and carry you around. Fuck you whenever I want. Wouldn’t it be nice?”

Your eyes were closed, chest heaving, and Joel lightly slapped your mound to get your attention.

“Ouch… Yeah, yes, daddy.”

Joel’s cock was rock hard, his boxers soaked with prefuck juice, but he wanted to keep playing with his stepdaughter as long as he could.

“Ya know I still have your panties. They were handy when you were studyin. Jizzed all over them. Now they’re ruined.”

He glanced at the stacks of clothes on the dryer and picked up one piece.

“These yours, right?”

You nodded slowly blinking at the pink lacy thong in his hand. He pressed it to his nose and mumbled with disgust,

“Clean.”

Suddenly his face lit up.

“Let’s make a souvenir for daddy, uh?”

“What?”

Joel answered your question when he brought the thong between your thighs and began wiping your pussy with it, soaking the fabric with your cum.

“Here we go, now they gonna smell of your tasty snatch.”

You were mewling, jerking again and again when he’d graze your puffy clit with his hand, but your legs stayed open for him. At one point Joel slid the panties over your entrance, that was stretched by his fingers, and without any thought in his mind he began pushing the thong into your glistening hole.

“What are you doing?!” You gasped, lifting yourself up on your elbows, your eyes wide.

“To soak ‘em better,” he mumbled, inserting the panties into your soft hole with his thick fingers. “Nice ‘d wet.”

He tilted his head, admiring the view of your cunt sucking the lace in, fluttering around the fabric, while you both were panting, aroused to the max at the sight.

When his hand was working, Joel’s eyes would fall on your asshole, winking at him from time to time.

It was calling to him - ‘Fuck me, Joel. Stick your fat cock right here.’

Joel stopped stuffing you with your thong only when the side string was sticking out of your hungry pussy.

He took a deep breath and looked up at your face.

“I’ll let it sit for a bit, ‘k? Ya pussy full now so… I’ma fuck your ass, baby.”

You

Joel looked crazy— eyes blown out, curly hair disheveled, mouth parted, lips and chin wet with your slick, so when he announced that he was going to fuck your ass, all your holes clenched extremely hard. You’d never done anal before but you could imagine that taking such a huge cock would split your ass in two. And you loved your ass. You didn’t want to go to the ER in the middle of the night.

‘Help me, doctor. I ...I fell on my stepdad's cock.’

Yet Joel was too hot to say ‘no’ to. His broad chest, stretching his tank top with every mighty breath, his monstrous bulge between the thick thighs, his handsome face, his muscular arms, his veiny hands…you could come just from staring at him. And the best part was that he wanted you. So much that it made your head spin and your knees buckle.

He probably noticed your scared expression, you weren’t really hiding it, and gave you a faux sweet smile. Then he cooed at you with the weirdest tone of voice — sugary and calming, that was so not like him, it made you even more anxious.

“I’ll be careful, sweetie.”

Suddenly he got up and went to the door.

“Joel?” you called but he pressed a finger to his lips, opened the lock and went out.

Joel came back a minute later holding something in his fist. He took his place between your legs, your pussy still full with your panties, and you saw a little bottle in his hands.

“Got us some lube, sweetie. Bought it the next day we fucked. For your ass. And we both know your pussy can drown the whole neighbourhood.”

A pathetic ‘aww’ almost escaped your mouth. You were down bad for him but you couldn’t show that you took ‘buying lube to ruin your butt’ as a sign of affection.

Meanwhile Joel was already opening the bottle and pulling his hard cock out. You almost moaned when you saw it. He was throbbing, his veiny thick member looked engorged and ready to destroy you. Your asshole clenched and pussy squeezed the wet thong.

”Daddy, fuck my mouth instead. Please.”

Joel, who was already pouring the slick liquid on his palm, shook his head.

“Nah, babydoll. Been there, done that. You woke me up so now face the consequences. Or rather let the consequences fuck your ass,” he chuckled and you whined, slowly closing your legs. Your inner thighs clamped against his hips and Joel froze, his eyes boring a hole in you. He clenched his jaw and his expression turned dark. A cold shiver ran down your spine. ‘He’s gonna make me,’ you thought in panic, ‘he’s gonna make me do it.’

Joel

‘Fuck! Joel thought. The bitch was about to say ‘no’. She woke him up, made him hard, made his cock leak like a fucking fountain into his boxers and now she was gonna leave him high and dry. Two orgasms spoiled her. Why the hell was he always so generous to this ungrateful brat?’

Yeah, your pussy was bomb. Yeah, you let him stick a dildo and his cock inside you, ate his cum like crème brûlée and at that moment were lying in front of him with your panties sticking out of your hole. You were a perfect slut. And yeah, your fear was valid - his schlong was huge and intimidating. But Joel knew that your ass would be heaven-like so he had to do a little ground work. Anal was worth it. You were worth it.

Joel sighed and glided his hand over your thigh.

“Ya scared?”

You nodded with your eyes glossy, lips trembling.

He sensed that you needed some sugar. So he could get your sweet ass.

“I get it,“ Joel sat on his butt and offered you his hand. You took it, looking confused, and he gently pulled you up and manhandled you to sit on his lap, your knees pressed to the floor. Your stuffed pussy snuggled up to his hard cock and Joel clenched his teeth and gathered all his will not to stick it in any hole that would be close enough. He needed to fuck something soon or he’d explode.

“It’s ok. I won’t make you do it. I'm big.”

”Yeah, so big, daddy,” you mewled, nuzzling the crease of his neck. His hands were gliding over your juicy asscheeks, soothing your nerves but also intentionally turning you on. You whimpered and he smiled in his mind. The slut was getting needy. Already feeling the tight squeeze of victory around his dick, he cooed,

”But listen… I know how to make it easy, sweetie. Know how to make it feel good for us both. You’ll feel so fuckin good, I promise.”

“Mmm,” you hummed against his skin, the sound unsure. Joel wrapped his arms tight around you and pulled you closer to his torso. Your thighs spread wider around his hips, your back arched and your butt stuck out more. Perfect.

“I also know that —,” his hand shifted to the crease of your ass and you jerked in his arms when his lubed up finger caressed your asshole, ”— she wants me too.”

Joel glided the pad of his finger over your tight ring, teasing it, spreading the lube over your puckered hole while you were moaning softly, probably fighting the urge to beg for more. But you will. Bet your cock-fearing ass you will!

“All your holes were made for me, babydoll. And this one too,” — his middle finger gently pushed on the ring — “I’ll work her open, carefully, sweetie, don’t worry, and in no time she’ll be able to take me.“ Pouring sweet honey into your ears, he inserted the tip of his digit in and your body tensed.

“Shh, relax, baby, relax. Gimme those sweet lips.”

Joel knew that you loved kissing him, always melting in his arms when his tongue was fucking into your mouth. So he gave you what you wanted - a long and passionate kiss while working your tight asshole open slowly but steadily, relaxing your muscle, making room for his fat cock.

When Joel was deep inside you to the knuckle, he moved his finger in and out a few times until you broke the kiss. You parted from his lips and searched for his eyes, almost frozen in his embrace.

“Oh, fuck, you’re inside me, Joel… daddy… I..”, you were choking on your words, your voice breathy, and he gave you a saccharine smile.

“Yes, tell me, sweetie, what do you need?”

“I need … need your cock there. Please.”

That was almost too easy but after playing with you for so long, Joel’s jizz wanted out and he was happy that your cock hunger took over your fears.

“ ‘course, babydoll. Get back down.”

He wanted to see you take him in your little ass lying on your back, wanted to see your pussy chew on your panties when his cock would neglect her and instead fuck another hole.

You were trembling, probably still scared but your eyes were screaming for a good fill.

“Hngg, like that. Hold your knees—yeah, good girl.”

“Please, be careful, Joel,” you asked with a timid voice.

Joel didn’t reply, busy applying more lube on his cock and groaning at the sensation.

“Daddy, please, be gentle.”

“I will, I will.”

Joel was hovering over your torso, his cock finally at your asshole, his wet hand guiding it. His head was empty, occupied only by you. All his being was taken over by the instinct to pierce his stepdaughter with his cock. But at the back of his mind a tiny voice reminded him that he needed to be careful with his favorite toy so he could play with it as long as possible.

Wanting you so badly that his balls were buzzing, Joel bit his lip hard to stop himself from busting just from the sensation of his cold cock-head pressed to your warm skin.

“More lube.” Yeah, he needed more.

Only when his schlong was slippery enough to fuck a whole cheerleading team, he stopped lubing it up. Your ass was worth it and he really needed you to enjoy it.

Joel pushed the tip against your hole but you weren’t letting him in.

“Babydoll, relax. Breathe deeper.”

You nodded but your chest was heaving, panic swimming in your eyes. You needed him close so Joel leaned down and covered you with his body, not putting his weight on you, just sharing his warmth.

Your eyes were inches from his, nervous, glossy, turned on.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, fuck being sorry. Just relax. Enjoy it.”

Enjoy my cock in your ass.

His tip knocked at the heaven’s door again and you finally granted him the access.

“Yeah, oh yeahhhh, baby, ahhhh—“

Joel didn’t care that he sounded needy and ecstatic, that was exactly what he was feeling at that moment. His tip was inside your glorious ass, your warm ring squeezing him hard, and to stop himself from coming, Joel closed his eyes and imagined his wife. He’d been imagining you whenever he was fucking her for some time now and he could have chuckled at the irony but at that moment only grunts and moans were leaving his mouth.

Your nails were digging into his biceps, widened eyes darting between his, your lips parted in a silent moan until you whimpered loudly, too loudly for a quiet house.

“Ahhdaddydaddydaddyyyy!”

He shut you up with a kiss and rocked his hips forward, slowly nailing your ass with his stiff cock.

If anyone had stopped him at that moment, he’d cry, that’s how amazing he was feeling. He’d fucked a fair amount of asses in his life but yours was definitely in top three.

“Need to see her take me,” be mumbled feverishly as his lips left yours and you whined.

“Quiet, needy slut. I’m still here.”

Joel was careful as he sat up and lifted your hips, wishing to stay in your tight hole and also not to rip you in two. When he dropped his head, his hands on your juicy asscheeks spreading them wider, the sight made him curse,

“Fuck— you seein it?”

He was mesmerized, watching your tight ring flutter around his glistening shaft while your stuffed pussy was squeezing the drenched panties. Your thighs began trembling when he fumbled with the wet fabric sticking out of your hole.

“Shit, baby. You’re somethin else.”

Joel slowly moved his cock, in and out, dipping it further with every forward thrust. You were watching him ruin your butt, breathing fast, and then murmured, choking on air,

”Oh my god—I feel like I’m gonna explode— don’t go deeper— please.”

Joel really wanted to push further, wanted to feel your tight ring hug the base of his cock but he was already on the verge of ecstasy, ready to empty his heavy balls. He was a glass-half-full person so half of his cock in his hot stepdaughter’s ass was enough for him. Yet wishing to keep you on your toes, he growled, “Don’t tell me what to do,” and slapped your pussy. The hit was light but his hand grazed your puffy clit and it electrified you like a bolt of lightning. You cried out through your teeth, your body tensed up and you squeezed him hard.

“Hnnnggg, yeah, choke ‘im, c’mon,” Joel grunted at the feeling and slapped your folds and clit again.

Slap- slap- slap!

“Daddyyyyy,” you moaned as you came, shaking in his arms, both of your holes contracting fast.

A string of curses left Joel’s mouth as he was watching your soft pussy nibble on your thong, making it dance over his cock.

“She’s droolin even gagged, fuckin ‘ell.”

While the orgasm was still rippling through you, he pinched the string of your panties with his thick fingers and began slowly pulling them out. It seemed to be prolonging your climax as you rolled your eyes at the sensations and kept jerking against the floor.

Joel immediately brought them to his lips and licked the fabric, breathing in your scent.

The sound he emitted was animalistic. The taste and smell of you, your asshole gripping his fat cock, the image of you, ruined and fucked out, finally made him let loose and explode inside your ass. He grabbed your hips tight and began fucking you with shallow thrusts, staying half-cock in just like you wanted. His balls were bouncing, slapping your asscheeks as their contents were flooding your channel like a tsunami.

“Take it— take it — take it,” Joel chanted through clenched teeth and you did take it — your asshole sucked in and swallowed every drop of his hot cum.

Joel slowly pulled out and dropped your butt on the pile of clothes. He tucked his cock back into his boxers and got up with a grunt, knowing well that his knees would hurt like hell the next day. It was worth it. As always after playing with his favorite fuckdoll, Joel felt greatly satisfied. As always after being fucked by him, you looked completely wrecked.

He offered you a hand and helped you to stand on your trembling legs. Then he pinched your chin and tilted your head up, searching for your hazy eyes.

“Ya good?“

You nodded with a drunk smile and he sneered. He really found a perfect slut.

“‘k, clean yourself up and go to bed. You’ll sleep really well now, babydoll.”

He pressed his body to yours and snaked his hand to your naked ass. He found your hole and gently prodded it. It was leaking his cum.

”Say ’thank you for the milk, daddy,’” he whispered, looking into your eyes with a sneer.

“Thanks for the milk. Daddy,” you mumbled, still trying to catch your breath.

Joel brought your panties to his face and took a deep whiff.

“And thank you for the souvenir, little slut,” he winked at you and then left the room.

Thank you for reading! Please comment and reblog if you enjoyed the fic!<3

SERIES MASTERLIST || MASTERLIST

Tag list: @milla-frenchy @harriedandharassed @iamasaddie @nervousmumbling @bbyanarchist @stevie75 @puduvallee @auteurdelabre @mountainsandmayhem @senoratess @flamingochick55 @theoraekenslover @schnarfer @mermaidgirl30 @staywildflowahchild @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @evolnoomym @keylimebeag @joelmillerisapunk @pascaltesfaye @fruityreads @itwasntimethatdidit40

People who were interested in pt 3; no pressure to read, bbs: @tateypots @amyispxnk @filetofishfan @lilac-boo @toxicanonymity @sunshineispunk @thundermartini @arcanefox207 @tammythr

860 notes · View notes

ccl-c · 3 months ago

Text

i procrastinated on this for months and it didn't even take that long to finish lol things got very bad at work this year and i just didn't have the energy but i'm really happy with how it turned out!

(edit: thank you so much to everyone enjoying this piece! i'm so happy there are more people thinking about his prosthetic leg.)

some of my favourite details and long self-indulgent ramble below the cut.

as much as i love the unicorn leg in the show i really wish they gave izzy an actual post-amputation swordfight scene, which probably would imply a more practical prosthesis because honestly that candle scene looks very painful and pretty difficult to adapt in combat. so basically i wanted him to have a prosthesis that could work.

for the poses i mostly just took basic right-handed cavalry sabre movements that would need lots of force and/or mobility from the left leg (actually all of them do otherwise he'd lose stability which is a big no but well i did not consider the basic steps nor special ones such as the palestra because they're not very clear to draw. i included a flèche though because i just really, really want to see him do flèches (no more modern rules aha!!); i doubt he'd like it since it's very risky but it would be so fucking awesome. imagine him just darting full-speed at the opponent and passing through them sliding the sabre right between their ribs. the sabre isn't a pointy weapon especially since his is quite curved which makes piercing trickier than slashing (it would be a lot easier with a rapier or an épée; i like to imagine that stede prefers the rapier and makes every opponent who believes rapiers aren't fit for combat reconsider it) but hell that would just look amazing. although looking at it again i probably drew the footwork more like a pass forward …). now thinking about it i should have included a salute because he'd absolutely do that and make everyone do it in unison at the start of training sessions and it's just a cool series of gestures (i haven't gone through the historical documents yet but the salute our historical fencing club do consists of two appels (striking the ground with the forward foot which in izzy's case is the right foot), then raising the sword to the sky, then pulling the guard of the sword near the jaw with the tip pointing upwards, then pointing the sword down forward, usually a bit to the exterior for single-handed swords. this is the short version; we did the complete version of that salute precisely once and i seriously cannot remember either the year it was formalised or how it was done exactly. i think it was somewhere near the end of the 18th century and there was half a step forward and maybe a step on the spot at the beginning. if i ever find it or we ever do it again i'll update here the complete version from the 1877 regulation under napoleon iii for the french army includes a process of going from standing to a tierce stance in the beginning and it's like this: start from a standing position with heels kept together and the sword to the front pointing downwards, then slowly raise the sword with the arm straight until that the point is about at eye level, fold the arm to end at the third or sixth hand position depending on the sword (sabre and rapier typically use the third while épée typically use the sixth; longsword would use the sixth too but it's not used in the army lol imagine that. and bayonet has a whole different salute), then start folding the legs while keeping the heels together and when you can't go any lower, move the front foot forward to the en garde feet position. and then tap twice on the ground etc.). also i feel like the dagger doesn't really look right ever since i saw the daggers and little swords at the exhibition about knights in nantes … anyway.

the prosthesis is loosely based on those 16th-century moveable leg prostheses by ambroise paré (on a side note, he made hand prostheses too and i think they're good references for spanish jackie's hand), douglas bly's above-knee prosthesis in the 19th century and modern running prosthetic legs (for the need of explosive force typical in lunges) as well as historical fencing and buhurt (full-armour medieval combat) gears. although i'm horrible at physics and have forgotten what little ergonomics i learned at university so it probably won't work in reality lol.

the text is in french simply because i learned fencing in french and didn't want to make mistakes in the vocabulary. the small words from left to right top to bottom are: motion (movement?), knee (front), knee (back), ankle & foot, locked, flèche (as in fencing; the word itself means “arrow”), unlocked (middle french spelling because i like it and it's not completely anachronistic i guess), lunge, en garde position in tierce (i somehow can't find any fixed way to say this in english; it's just the basic stance with the third hand position). the text on the left is probably quite awkward honestly but i can't not put it there because it's fun lol it reads “leg and foot prosthesis designed for first mate hands, by doctor roach with the assistance of frenchie, realised (built? made? constructed? manufactured?) by black pete and wee john feeney and the entirety of the crew of the revenge under co-captains stede bonnet and edward teach, illustrated by lucius spriggs”. so yes any mistake in there is theirs and not mine lmao (no). the font is very loosely based on my memory of jean jannon's regular and italic typefaces. i adore his italics; it's the prettiest, most delicate italics i've ever seen.

i still have other drawing ideas for ofmd but i'm also into a lot of other things now … i'll probably get to them a few months later.

#ofmd #izzy hands #ccl c

656 notes · View notes

eureka-its-zico · 9 days ago

Text

Residuals Pt.2

Ongoing Series

Synopsis: You and Robby spent seven long years together until the day it ended. You’ve done your best to create space; to become invisible. You can’t miss what you don’t see. Unfortunately, the universe (Gloria and the Board of Directors) seemed to have missed the memo.

Pairing: Michael ‘Robby’ Robinavitch x Reader

Genre: Established previous relationship, slight age gap (by about 15 years give or take), a little bit of tension mixed in with a little bit of hate yearning, cause she’s a saucy angsty fic ok

Warnings: Language, sexual themes (it's the patient)

A/N: So, this chapter is much beefier than the last. To anyone new here and my writing - I'm a long-winded bitch, so I apologize in advance 🤣. This chapter also uses slight dialogue from the show. There is a scene in this I took from my time working in the ER during the 2020/2021 pandemic. 100% this actually happened. It was traumatizing lol. Thank you, guys, so much for taking such an interest in this fic! For showing so much love and loving on this show along with me (and Dr. Robby lol) because it's fantastic and deserves all the fics and all the love! I truly am grateful and hope that you enjoy this chapter. Much Love, Jenn 🖤

Shout out to @viridian-dagger for looking this over for me. Thank you for putting up with me lol. I Love you. Also, thanks to @strangergraphics for the cute little divider.

Word count: 7524

Previous I Next

7:00 AM - 8:00 AM

You’d been staring at the screen for what accumulated into an eternity in the ED. The longer you kept staring, kept from just choosing one of the damn patients on the board, the bigger the risk grew that Dana would notice.

Or worse - Robby.

If Dana took notice of you willfully choosing to stare off into premeditated space, you were willing to bet your firstborn she’d reprimand you first and tell Robby second. She'd shoo you away from her desk with a fervor usually saved for psych patients, as if you had cooties. With your current calculations on how this morning started, either option would be unpleasant.

Whether any of you liked it or not, you were here, and that meant one glaringly - neon sign bright - reality. Robby was going to be your fucking boss for the next twenty-four hours. And not in a kinky way. At least, not the way either of you used to enjoy.

From the moment the briefing ended, the disdain at your presence made it painfully clear that you were not welcome. Everyone dispersed in true manic speed to meet the batshit energy that constantly swirled inside the Pitt. It was the place that kept on giving even when you politely asked to be put in time out - because damn you needed just a moment to get your shit together. But the ER was in its own solar system, and it required everyone who walked inside to be ready for whatever was thrown their way. You didn’t get a say - weren’t allowed to say no or ‘hard pass’, on cases that came flowing in and what dictated an emergency. You were either ready or you weren’t. You either made it or you cracked.

There wasn’t any damn structure here. Just spontaneity with a dash of madness but, in that madness, greatness could be born. Adamson always said you never knew what kind of doctor you were - the depths of your compassion - until it was tested in the blood, sweat, and fire of the Pitt.

You’d been tried, tested, and by the end knew exactly what kind of doctor you were. What kind of doctor you strived to be - like Adamson. Just like Robby. But it’d been two very long years since you’d been able to call this madhouse home. The ease of set-timed patients with a patient history readily at your fingertips had spoiled you. Every question that needed to be asked without actually asking was answered and waiting just for you to see. Pre-existing conditions or possible new ones with known side effects were readily available for you to view.

So, yeah, you were panicky - terrified - about heading out onto the floor with a thousand unknowns. It wasn’t helping that Perlah and Princess hadn’t greeted you with more than a sneer and an eye roll that’d impress your fifteen-year-old niece. Robby and his flock of med students bounded off to make rounds that lasted less than three minutes before rapids began flowing through the ambulance bay. With any luck, you’d have one solid minute to look over the board, dissect what room held the most viable case to close, and head there.

Just jump right back in and pray you didn’t fall flat on your face.

The numbing sensation that resonated earlier in your chest returned with a vengeance. It didn’t start gradually, but collided against your nerves; exploding like a colony of ants that bit and tore leaving behind flashes of panic. You tried to lead the sensation out through your hands with a subtle shake. If you allowed the anxiety to fester itself it would no doubt become housed to you the entire shift.

You were better than this. You interned in the Pitt. You chose to stay after you’d obtained a full-time position. Two years away from this damn madhouse shouldn’t have affected you this strongly but that wasn’t accounting for outside stimuli…

But looking up at the large TV monitor, new names being added to the FirstNet system with brightly colored labels, it made you want to scream. It made you feel hopeless.

Fuck. You were better than this.

The background erupted with shouts from an incoming trauma. Two severe traumas from the sound of rushing feet and Robby’s directions. You didn’t hear most of what the paramedics relayed to Robby and the med students. You did, however, catch the word degloving as they rolled into trauma rooms one and two. You did not envy the med students.

You gave your hands one last shake as your eyes combed over the patient list one more time. You’d found a possible ingestion of a foreign object by a child in triage room eleven. Simple. Easy. You were already going over possible orders to give. An x-ray was to get a better picture if the obstruction was heading downward or if an endoscopy would be necessary for removal. What signs to look for as you assessed the child while making sure they were still alert and swallowing normally. You thought of how to introduce yourself when a familiar voice thrust you back into the present.

“Forget how to read a patient board, Fullerton?”

Dana’s words were pure ice. The years of friendship and playful jokes appeared to be burned to a pile of ash. You didn’t need to look at her to know she wasn’t regarding you with a friendlier expression than Perlah had moments before.

“No,” you sighed, your eyes finally dragged from the screen to her. “Just taking in the options.”

“This isn’t a buffet, in case you forgot. I know it runs easier and less dirty for you guys upstairs, but down here time is a precious commodity.”

“I am well aware of how simple consultations can turn serious, Dana.”

“Oh, you do,” she gasped in mock surprise. She’d removed her glasses from her nose and held them against her chest. “I guess that means you should stop wasting time and do your job. Don’t want your Press Ganey scores droppin’.”

“Not that I don’t love the pep talk, Dana. I’m just curious, are you going to be riding my ass this hard the whole shift?”

The question was out of your mouth before you could stop it. The ears of every available RN and technician who sat around Dana’s nursing station no doubt heard. The verbal back and forth so early in the morning was beginning to give you whiplash.

“I don’t know, sunshine is there a reason you think I shouldn’t? You know,” she began, her body involuntarily inching closer. Her shoulder leaned in closer so her barbed words could sink deep enough to wound. “What a surprise to learn that this whole time - the entire fucking two years you were gone - you’d simply been up-fucking-stairs.”

It was in those last few words you saw it. It was so quick you might’ve missed it if you weren’t dialed in. No matter what Dana, or anyone else, said to you today, it would never compare to the carnage you’d left behind with your silence. The pain of seeing the hurt you’d left behind, sharp and unforgiving, was like a lancet; slicing through the tough hide you’d prepared for the day.

“Dana -”

Shit, you did not need your voice to crack. You did not need to crack.

Unluckily for you, she wasn’t in the mood to hear from you. A hand rushed up to brush off whatever weak attempt at placating her she knew you would try and send her way.

“I don’t want to hear it, kid. Months I was worried sick about you. Just to find out you chose to forget we even existed down here. A literal ghost walking back into our lives right when we’ve just about healed. You’re a real asshole, Fullerton.”

She lifted the glasses back to rest on the bridge of her nose. The coolness of her stare reminded you - if her final words didn’t - that you weren’t a welcome sight in the Pitt. Your presence threw off what little harmony they coveted, the family dynamics, and you knew she would fight to preserve it - to protect Robby - and everyone else in the process.

Your tongue pressed against the side of your cheek. A weak balm to cool the warring wave of emotions that rapidly replaced the anxiety that moments ago threatened to shatter you into embarrassing little pieces. Now you only felt like shattering for an entirely different reason.

Dana tore her gaze away from you and answered an incoming phone call. Whatever emotions she contended with were conveniently pushed down because she had a job to do. So did you. You found yourself wanting to say to hell with today; with Gloria and all her standards. You hadn’t agreed to be fucking public enemy number one.

It didn’t matter how anyone else saw you. What mattered right now was the glaringly obvious pain you’d caused to someone who was the Pitt’s raining surrogate mother. Who’d checked in on you, and brought extra food from home because she miraculously knew you’d forgotten yours. A friend that invited you to her family’s Christmas Eve dinner your first year as an intern because you didn’t have family to celebrate with. The woman who’d held you when you’d lost your first patient and scolded you about smoking cigarettes even though she smoked herself.

You wanted to be stubborn. To wait for her to get off that damn phone so you could try and explain, but really what could you say? It wasn’t just Robby you left. You’d chosen to abandon ship with all of them aboard a sinking ship. They never even knew they needed life jackets in the first place.

The cool stare of the nursing staff made your back itch. You needed to get away and get back to why you were here. What you were damn good at doing. Clearing your throat, you made your way around the nurses' station. The stride of your steps was suspiciously close to turning into a jog. Although, you’d never admit that out loud. The sooner you could get to the patient's room the more normal this day would be.

“Holy shit, Fullerton? Is that you?”

The chipper tone and the laughter behind it had warning bells going off in your head in a matter of minutes. You only knew one surgeon who took glee in other people’s discomfort.

Yolanda Garcia, the resident pain in the ass at Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center, beamed at you like the cat who was dangerously close to eating a new canary. You had a not-so-sneaking suspicion you were the canary in this scenario.

“I don’t know, Garcia does it look like me? It’s too early for you to be hallucinating.”

“Does Robby know you’re here?”

Oh, she had to be eating this up. The sheer mayhem she knew this would cause - psychologically speaking - must have been making her toes curl. She was beaming, practically euphoric from the very thought. Her feet were no doubt burning to run and tell him as if he didn’t already know.

You tried to sidestep around her obnoxiously grinning form only for her to shadow your movement.

“It’s great to see you haven’t lost that dream of auditioning for the Wicked Witch of the East, Yolanda.”

“Robby is going to flip when he hears about this.”

“Great. Why don’t you run along now and tell him,” you quipped while patting her arm. “I have patients to attend to.”

“I bet you do.”

This time when you moved to sidestep her, Garcia didn’t make any move to follow. No doubt too busy riding her broom to be the harbinger of doom all over again for one specific unfortunate soul.

“Are you aware that Fullerton is here? Just walking around the Pitt attending to patients?”

It shouldn’t have come as a shock that once Garcia saw you, she’d use you in any capacity to rile him up. Hell, Robby was willing to bet the minute she’d noticed you - whether walking or inside a patient room - Garcia would’ve encroached on your space. The two of you historically had one of the worst feuds Adamson said he’d seen between interns in years. It didn’t surprise him that even after you’d both secured your jobs within the hospital it never ended.

What did surprise him was how breezily she asked her questions. She hadn’t even taken five steps into trauma one before she fired each one off in his direction. His hands crossed his body to grip his shoulders. He needed something to steady himself and each finger that dug into the meat of his biceps was all he needed to help keep him centered. Keep his head in this room with this patient and not somewhere else.

“Yes, Dr. Garcia I am well aware she is here.”

He watched the exchange between Collins and Garcia and nodded his approval at Collin’s when she stood her ground and called for a popliteal block instead of morphine.

“Where’s the next guy?”

“Next door. He’s a bit worse.”

This was something he could do. Something his mind could piece together and work around. Robby knew medicine. Saving lives wasn’t the hardest part of his day - it was having to try and make sense of his own that held that prize.

Garcia was in the middle of giving one last instruction of what she wanted before she fully followed him into the room. Dr. Mohan and a med student, Santos, were in the process of intubating Mr. Wallace.

“How do you feel about that?”

Robby had been so laser-focused watching them place the tube that he hadn’t heard Dr. Garcia the first time. So, of course, she asked again.

“Feel about what?”

He was under the impression they were focused on the patient. He should've known better when it came to Garcia. She was relentless until she got what she wanted.

“Come on, Robby, let’s not be coy. You expect me to believe you don’t have big feelings about her being down here? You guys were engaged - ”

A split second. That was all it took for him to become glaringly aware of the room. Of all the people in it, they no longer were singularly focused on the patient but split down the middle. While Garcia effortlessly watched over the med students and their progress, she equally watched him for any sign of a reaction.

He needed to put an end to her question before she overshared information that first-day interns had no business knowing. Robby found himself itching under the watchful gazes of staff. Princess in particular he caught glancing up from where she was handing over instruments.

“I don’t see how that information pertains to anything dealing with our patients, Dr. Garcia. How about we stay focused on the task at hand.”

Robby saw the smirk on her face. A dog with a bone. That’s what Garcia was going to be like all fucking day because she was just eating this up.

He put himself back in motion - being the watchful attendee as Dr. Mohan successfully placed the intubation tube.

“I’m in!”

“Good! Well done.”

Robby could do this. He could be a doctor. He could be the attendee overseeing and teaching others. He could do this. He could do this. He listened closely as Dr. King checked for the patient’s medical history - there was none. He listened to Yolanda give off medication to administer before shipping Mr. Wallace up to CT for a scan. Once Robby was sure everything was moving smoothly, he moved around the foot of the patient’s bed to stand next to Princess.

“Do me a favor,” he asked gently, “Swap out with Jessie for me, would you?”

Their degloving patient screamed in a language no one knew but - Robby was hoping - Princess would know. He was following behind her when a familiar - and unwelcome voice - called out behind him.

“Dr. Robinavitch. Do you have a moment?”

No. He would never have another fucking moment for Gloria. She effectively used up every last moment he had left to spare when she dragged you down here. Robby was barely holding on to what small pieces of sanity he had left. He didn’t need any more shit to deal with before 7:30 am.

“Ugh, I’m a little busy right now, Gloria. One sec.”

He meant no fucking seconds but he still had to play nice, right. Robby was never good at playing politics. Adamson told him countless times it was the unseen added responsibility of an attending. The constant hounding from the administration staff and CEOs demanding doctors and nurses carried more than just keeping people alive.

Gloria followed him through the rooms and stood at the side. Her presence was a constant reminder to him that she wasn’t going to leave empty-handed.

Robby did all he could to monitor the med students’ and his residents as they made their assessments. When Princess notified him she couldn’t figure out the language, Robby took it as a small win to allow him to grab language services, giving him a few seconds to breathe.

It was short-lived.

By the time the officer walked in, Gloria had her fill of being on the back burner. She wouldn’t be ignored any longer and they both knew Robby was no longer needed. His residents’ had both patients stabilized and were finishing up preparing them to begin proper treatments. It left him the odd man out. It left him having to take a walk with Gloria.

The walking and talking was about metrics - Press Ganey scores. The endless bitching about low numbers that couldn’t be fixed without proper staffing was affecting patient satisfaction. It was easy for Gloria to pin the poor numbers on Robby, Abbot, and the entire Pitt staff. Easier to claim they just weren’t already busting their ass hard enough instead of admitting they were short-staffed in every department. That their metrics and data issues of force-fed shitty scores could be solved simply by hiring more nurses - paying better wages.

But everything Robby ever said - tried to tell Gloria until his vision reddened - fell on uncaring ears.

After everything he tried to tell her again all she latched onto was when he used the word “Pitt” instead of the official term of an emergency department. Derogatory. That was what she called it. Incompatible with institutional images.

Robby wanted to scream.

“You know what's incompatible with the institution's image? Me speaking to the media about people who code in our waiting rooms and people who get shitty care in our hallways waiting for an ICU bed for days.”

“I’ve heard about doctors who tried that and found themselves out of work.”

The thinly veiled threat wasn’t lost on him. The next words he would’ve liked to have said to Gloria in response, he was forced to cover up under a mirthless laugh.

“I know today is difficult for you - “

Fuuuck no. No. He was not doing this, especially not with Gloria. No matter what was said after this, Robby could feel the cusp of a storm riding at the frayed edges of his psyche. Knew it was there with each passing millisecond as he waited for it to implode.

“Everyday is difficult down here,” he bit in.

“Boarding is a nationwide problem. Your predecessor, Adamson, sure as hell knew that. Or wasn’t that something he taught you?”

And there it fucking was. His eyes snapped shut as he tried to rain in the tidal wave that roared in his ears. The cautionary warnings of a catastrophe brewing beneath the surface only grew louder.

It wasn’t even fucking 7:30 yet.

“Fuuuuck. Wow. Really?”

“Yes. Really.”

Gloria would never back down. She was as strong and determined as anyone Robby ever met. Under different circumstances, he would’ve found her impressive, but this wasn’t any other circumstance than her riding his ass like she usually did.

Robby shook his head again to try and clear the black dots from his vision. It was just a brief shake. His eyes skimmed across each full bed that held a waiting patient. The universe must have perfect timing with fucking with him today. In that brief look, Robby watched you appear from behind a patient curtain. A reassuring smile on your face as you spoke one final time to the family of three inside before you closed it shut behind you.

You weren’t aware he’d seen you - that he was watching. It was a split second but live wires only needed one second to find a conduit to create sparks that burned down everything around it. He shook his head to try and clear it. His gaze landing back on Gloria with a new bone to pick.

“Don’t you think you should’ve cleared it with me before you brought Dr. Fullerton down?”

Before his sentence finished, Robby could tell by Gloria’s response she found his question idiotic.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I was unaware the board needed to clear every decision with you first, Dr. Robby. Also, weren’t you just complaining about the lack of staffing?”

“I was saying to hire more nurses - not to bring down a doctor from a whole other floor.”

“A doctor who has been with this hospital for close to a decade, trained by Adamson, and you, might I add. Look, I get it. You two have…history. Which is one of the main reasons we frown upon fraternization.”

“Please, spare me the HR talk, Gloria.”

“You need to put your big boy pants on, Dr. Robby. Fullerton is staying down here whether you like it or not. Don’t like it, can’t manage the crisis or who the hospital chooses to staff down in the ER, you can either step up or step aside.”

Gloria didn’t give him a chance to respond. She gave him one last condescending look, one Robby hoped he mirrored back to her, before turning on her heels and walking away. His eyes followed her for a few seconds, debating if he wanted to chase after her. Just hand over his badge and call it quits because the feeling of defeat weighed so damn heavy on his shoulders that he thought there might be a chance he’d never get back up.

Instead, he turned to look at the nursing station where Dana was casually walking. He knew she heard the entire conversation. He just didn’t want to have to repeat what just occurred or discuss it in the slightest.

He stuck his hands in the pockets of his hoodie and was ready to return into the fray because he could handle that. He could help patients. He could be the doctor they needed. Before he even moved a step Dana motioned for him to come towards the desk.

The little devil on his shoulder warned him that he might end up regretting it.

“You know, Robby, I’ve been thinking - “

“Why do I feel like this isn’t going to go well,” he sighed.

Dana simply waved him off before she continued.

“You aren’t being very realistic on the whole, ‘stay in the triage only’ demand. You want her to just waste her skills by only helping out in the front?”

“She won’t be wasting them,” he huffed.

His hands reached out to grip the edge of the counter. He didn’t want to have this conversation. He did not want to have this conver -

“I think you’re just hoping that’s where she stays so you don’t have to see her.”

“One can dream, Dana.”

Robby did not trust - nor like - the coy look he received in response to his words.

“Who am I to get in the way of a man’s dream?” She replied, her eyes examining him in a way he hated. No one could hide anything from Dana. “Although, if I know you -“

“Dana -“ he warned.

“ - I would be willing to bet -“

“Dana, I’m being serious -“

“ - that you want to see her.”

“Now why would I want that?”

“You’ve been scanning the halls every few seconds since we’ve been talking, Robby. I don’t think you’re admiring the wonderful view of bodily fluids and stale piss scent.”

“Alright I’ve had enough of your idea of what I’m assuming is a half-assed pep talk.”

“Just…be honest with yourself, Robby. You both got a lot of unresolved tension with a dash of a shit ton of issues. Probably be better to hash it out when you can, and in private, instead of exploding in front of interns or patients.”

Robby wanted to question if she was willing to do the same. Would Dana be able to have you come to the desk for patient transfer information, for updates, calls; and for everything and not be as affected as he was? Robby remembered he wasn’t the only one who’d lost you - felt lost without you.

Robby wasn’t ready to confront you. Hell, he wasn’t ready to be alone with you and try to talk like civil adults. He wasn’t there yet and maybe he wouldn’t be. What he could be was an attending physician. He was great at that.

He could do that. Everything else would just have to wait.

Upon further examination of the little penny swallower in 7 North, he showed no signs of abnormal drooling or trouble swallowing. Palpitating the stomach didn’t have any response of abdominal pain or tenderness. With a few more questions about possible fever or trouble breathing, you felt confident in informing the family an x-ray would be needed just to verify the penny was making safe travels down to be…expelled. Easier and less invasive to exit that way.

You told them once you were notified the x-ray results were ready, you’d come to speak to them about the next steps. Hopefully, it meant they could be discharged in an hour or less. Which meant you had an hour to kill between waiting for the results. After reading the chief complaint on the board for 12 South, you thought it was a solid contender for a quickie.

As it turned out, it was the worst idea you’d had that morning.

When you pulled back the curtain and began the examination, what you’d found waiting for you under the dressing gown wasn’t on your bingo card. Actually, it should never be on anyone’s bingo card. Not ever.

You’d tried to come up with any other option than needing to consult Robby. He didn’t want to see you throughout the day - ever. It was a sentiment you equally shared with him and one you happily would’ve avoided except…you need the advice.

You need to present the case and get some solid, solid advice and, quite possibly, traumatize him in the process. You couldn’t be the only one subjected to seeing what you saw at freaking 7:37 in the morning. The only issue: you had no fucking clue where he was.

In true Pitt fashion, doctors were bouncing from one room to another. Already you’d heard McKay call earlier about needing a crash cart. When you’d run out to assist, Mateo, a newer RN you’d yet to meet let you know they had it - if you were needed they’d call.

You also knew that after 7:30, rigs would be bringing in elderly patients from the nursing homes. Another thing that would keep Robby busy and make it near impossible for you to try and consult with him. It was already going to be a battle just to keep him from turning and bolting in the other direction when he saw you.

This limbo of time left you a few minutes to run to the break room and take a blissful sip of your more than likely room-temperature coffee. It didn’t matter: caffeine was caffeine and you would take it any way you could get it. You just had to make one last pit stop before you disappeared.

You circled the nurses' station and found the exact nurse you were looking for sitting at one of the station’s computers. You had to hand it to Perlah, whether she saw you coming or sensed your presence like a disturbance in the force, she refused to glance up from the screen. Her eyes scan over something repeatedly as her fingers pound into the keyboard.

“Perlah, have you seen Robby?”

She still wasn’t looking up.

“Nope,” she replied, popping her P heavily.

“If you do see him, can you let him know I’m looking for him?”

“Nope.”

Your lips tucked into a grimace as your gaze peered over the edge of the computer. Perlah’s eyes didn’t lift once.

“Okay. Great talk.”

“Mhmm.”

Yeah, today was off to a really fantastic start.

There wasn’t any point hanging around the nurses' station for longer than was embarrassingly needed. You took the loss in stride, and by stride, it meant with a heavy sigh of defeat that had your feet dragging that defeatist attitude into the breakroom. Where you found one of Robby’s newest med students sitting at the break room’s table.

If you felt defeated, you weren’t sure what the proper word for her would be. She looked like a reprimanded child instead of a doctor. Her small frame was tucked in tight, like a fetal position with her forehead almost completely collapsing onto the table.

You weren’t able to catch any of their names earlier because you all but missed morning rounds. All you knew was she was one of Robby’s four interns and by far the youngest from the looks of it.

You eyed her warily as you moved towards the side counter. You’d stashed your coffee on top of the microwave and, once in hand, immediately brought it to your lips for a long pull.

Yep. It tasted as good as you thought it would.

The girl brightened once she realized you’d entered. Her nerves had her eyes darting down and back up again seemingly unable, or just not comfortable enough, to keep them trained on you.

“You’re one of Robby’s new med students today, right?” A timid smile rose and fell on her lips. You watched while she tried to make out if you were friend or foe. In an attempt to prove the former, you offered up a warm smile as you introduced yourself.

“Victoria Javadi - MS3.”

“It’s a pleasure, Dr. Javadi. May I ask what you’re doing in the breakroom instead of out in the Pitt?”

Your question was meant to be that: a simple question. No ulterior motives were waiting in the wings especially not the lecture Adamson gave you your first year when he caught you napping in here. But your simple question extinguished what little bit of life had lit up in the young girls’ eyes.

“I - I - my foot hit a gurney during Dr. Collin’s and Dr. Langdon’s demonstration on the degloving patient. It was nothing.”

It wasn’t nothing. Whatever happened was everything to her and not in the best of ways.

“That’s okay. It happens,” you shrugged. “I stuck myself with a needle once.”

“Really?” She asked, her voice timid and eyes unbelieving.

“Oh, yeah. My second year of residency too. The patient became combative while I was trying to administer the medication. The needle got jammed in my clavicle.”

You couldn’t believe it - it earned you a laugh. A nervous one, but it was still a laugh. You watched her as she brightened and dimmed; a constant flux of warring thoughts that you weren’t sure which side was winning.

“Whatever happens out there, don't let it get you down. We never stop learning as human beings or as doctors. Everyone out there has made a mistake in some capacity. Hell,” you snorted as you pushed off from the kitchenette’s counter, “Michael got hit with a bedpan once.”

“Michael?”

God, you’d gotten too familiar. Your memory of that day makes you have a Freudian slip into the days you called him more by his first name instead of his nickname.

“Oh, uhm, Dr. Robby. I’m going to head out but if you want, once you’re done here, you can come find me. I’d be more than happy to teach you.”

“Thank you, but I’m sure Dr. Robby is just having me take a break. It’ll be fine. I’ll be fine.”

You were tempted to tell her to come find you anyway, just in case. In case it didn’t go how she thought when she did finally check back in with Robby. Whether she verbally agreed to the offer or not, you hoped she knew it was still there. This was a teaching hospital after all.

Dana and Robby were walking back to the nurses' station. He’d just gotten one major surprise of finding out Javadi was Eileen Shamsi’s daughter and while he was all for surprises, that was one he'd like to have been prepared for.

Just like Dana had warned him, via Perlah, that you were looking for him he saw you standing there waiting. For him. He’d had all of five seconds to come to terms with the fact you were both about to have your first direct conversation in over two years. After two long years of no contact, it was about work.

He should’ve been happy it was just about work and not all the other bullshit that’d accumulated over those two years. He should’ve been fucking thrilled, but he wasn’t. Robby had so many questions - so many things he wanted to say. There was so much to say - to ask - and instead here he was preparing to discuss something easy.

Robby and Dana split up at the middle entrance. She returned to man her station in the center of this circus, while he came up to stand beside you leaning against the nurses' station. Your fingers tapped on the counter while your chin rested in your other hand.

“Something’s got you deep in thought.”

Robby knew the answer - knew it because outside of himself, outside of Jake, you were the only other person he knew inside out. Your fidgeting fingers, a tick he knew well, would tap out a Morse Code of a problem you were trying to solve. The faster the tapping, the closer Robby knew you were coming closer to asking for his opinion. You’d done this all the years you’d worked together and at home when you couldn’t decide if oregano was an okay substitution for Italian seasoning.

“Cock rings.”

“Excuse me?”

Robby could feel his eyebrows skyrocketing towards the ceiling. He rocked forward and back on his feet while the fists he’d buried inside his hoodie pushed against the fabric. His body subconsciously leaned towards you because, well hell, he couldn’t believe those two words just left your mouth.

He hated that his eyes caught the slight uptick in the corner of your mouth. The same corner where all your sarcastic ass smirks originated before they blackmailed their way to full-blown smiles. What Robby hated the most was how that small bit of familiarity took a sledgehammer to the carefully constructed walls he’d built. Fucking hated how his lips betrayed him by beginning to match the playfulness in your eyes. Loathed entirely how his heart did somersaults like he was a teenager again and the girl he’d crushed on just looked at him like he hung the stars.

“Cock rings.” You said it like it wasn’t the lewdest thing he’d heard all day. Simple. Matter-of-fact. “What do you know about them?”

This was fucking absurd, was all he could think.

“Uhm, why exactly is this your question?”

“Jesus, Robby, I’m not asking if you’ve used them. My patient in 12 South - was brought in by his mother for supposed swelling and pain in the inguinal region. Upon examination, found he attached sixteen key rings as makeshift cock rings along the length of his penis.”

His brain was still in the process of trying to comprehend the scenario you’d just fed him. That was his excuse for his eloquent reply, “You’re fucking kidding me.”

“I sincerely, with my full chest, wish I was. He’s traumatized. Mom’s traumatized. Shit, I’m traumatized, but I can’t figure out a safe alternative to removing the rings without causing damage.”

“What are you two discussing?”

Dana seemed to arrive at the best and worst possible moment because Robby didn’t know how to answer that question. Apparently, you had no problem informing her it was -

“Cock rings.”

Robby wondered if Dana’s stunned-to-silence expression was how he’d looked earlier.

“Well, shit, Fullerton this is the wrong department for that - “

“It’s my patient in 12 South. He decided to MacGyver himself some cock rings out of key rings.”

“What about MacGyver?”

Langdon slid a tablet back on the charging station - gaze laser focused between you and him. One of Langdon’s brows rose in silent question that Robby could only answer with a shrug.

“I’m sorry but who is MacGyver?” Dr. King asked, eyes shifting with expectation between the four of them for whoever would give up the answer.

“MacGyver’s an old 80’s TV show where the detective guy gets himself out of sticky situations by using random stuff.”

“Random stuff?”

“Anything eye level,” you quipped.

“Okay, anyways, Fullerton,” Langdon butted in, “What’s with your MacGyver patient.”

“Cock rings.”

Robby swore if he heard the words “cock” and “ring” come out of your mouth one more time he was going to fucking combust.

“Cock…rings?”

From how green Mel looked after stuttering out those words, Robby was sure he wasn’t alone in his earlier sentiment.

“They say it’s meant to enhance stimulation by restricting blood flow to the penis. I’m pretty sure men buy them because it enlarges the penis making it thicker with the possibility they’ll last longer in bed. You can currently pick one up on Amazon.”

“Jesus,” Dana mumbled.

“Really?”

Mel took a giant step closer to the edge of the desk. Her earlier discomfort was removed by the idea of garnering new information. The warning signs were blaring loudly when you whipped your phone from your scrub's back pocket.

“Oh, yeah and they come in different styles of materials - “

“Oookay.” Robby heard more than enough. If he was being honest with himself, fuck he hated how it bothered him hearing you talk so casually about sex toys. Toys he knew, for a fact, the two of you never used because he never needed the extra help. He knew every inch of your skin; how you liked to be handled and touched. Could recall with crystal clarity the plains of your body, mapped out to memory by his hands, by his mouth, and the way your breath would hitch just before a moan slid past your lips. If any asshole was touching you now - he wasn’t fucking doing it right. Clearing his throat - and his fucking head because Jesus H. Christ - he rested his forearms on the counter as he leaned closer to you. “Can we please move past showing my med students unnecessary sex toys?”

Robby was leaned down enough that the next time you looked at him it was direct. Direct and ready to challenge him every step of the way. A spark of some hidden remark you were burying back under your tongue brightened his favorite color of iris.

“Squeamish, Michael?”

And there it was again. That fucking smirk.

The use of his name falling so casually from your lips was a gut punch that stole the air from his lungs. He couldn’t stop the pinch of his eyes that narrowed in on you.

Did you just lean closer?

“Not particularly, no. I am, however, making sure we aren’t having an unnecessary conversation that doesn’t pertain to the care and wellbeing of our patients.”

“Sex education is fundamental education. Dr. King asked a question and I was teaching. This form of teaching does pertain to my specific patient who used a similar style of material usually made for this particular toy and, because of lack of education, thought key rings would be a supplementary alternative rather than a safer one. In showing Dr. King the types of materials safely used, and how obtainable and discrete it is to get one, she could educate someone else if she finds herself in a similar situation. Also, it’s 2025, Dr. Robby - we don’t kink shame here. We educate on safe sex practices.”

“Here, here!”

Robby shot a look in Dana’s direction and caught the wisp of a smile before she turned away.

“What a great speech just to cover up your kinks, Fullerton.”

Robby couldn’t tell if Langdon was trying to bait you on purpose just to rile you up or to get you to slip up. He got neither in return.

“You found me out, Frank.”

“Alright, enough.” He needed to cut in before you both went back and forth in an endless loop of who could irritate who the most. It was just a little over half an hour into the shift. “Dr. Fullerton, is there anything else?”

“Ugh, yeah. You still haven’t given me your opinion.”

“Because you never asked a specific question,” he reminded you.

He watched you consider his words; your lips rising into that small pucker. It was your tell that always let him know the debating was over and you were ready to listen to what he had to say.

A part of him hated the familiarity that rested between the two of you. Fuck, you hadn’t changed. Not in any way Robby was able to notice. It was barbaric; and painfully unfair that every mannerism and every glance housed years’ worth of memories. The most painful part of being reminded was the remembrance of loss.

Loving you had been as easy as breathing for him. Until it wasn’t.

The communication the two of you held so easily for years was torn apart during the pandemic. There was too much happening and not enough support mentally when the PTSD started. When the sleeplessness and hopeless feeling began to press a weight down on his chest - his existential crisis bloomed red and bright. Robby didn’t know how to stop the bleeding.

And then you…you’d…

“You’re right, I didn’t.” Your words cut through the fog in his mind, bringing him roaring back to the surface. “If you have a few moments, I would like to get your opinion on my patient and what you think will be best for this particular…situation.”

Robby pushed his arms off the counter. An arm swept out in the direction of the hallway south to indicate you could lead.

“Alright. Let’s see what you got.”

You clapped your hands together before you took a step forward. You hadn’t expected him to agree and the giddiness at winning a battle - or not having to fight one? - intoxicated him. A ghost of a smile tilting the edges of his lips unwillingly up.

The two of you’d made it about five feet before Myrna rolled herself from beside her latest haunt.

“Hey Sugar Tits, where are you skipping off to?”

“Myrna, I’ve expressly told you, my name is Dr. Robby.”

“I’m not talking to you, Fruitcake.”

“It’s me,” you whisper to him before returning your attention to Myrna. Never stopping. Always moving. “I can’t talk now, Myrna. I have a patient.”

“You always say you have a patient,” came her gruff reply.

It was the first hint her chipper demeanor was about to expire.

“Yes, because this is the ER; where I work.”

“Fuck you.”

“Nice talking to you again too, Myrna.”

The walk to 12 South wasn’t quick enough. Every step and moment he spent walking beside you sent a flood of memories rushing to the surface. Robby didn’t know how to do this. He didn’t know how to pretend you hadn’t shared a life - that he hadn’t spent time loving you in every way he could.

“Fruitcake, huh?”

Your words cut through his thoughts and, at first, he’d been grateful for the interruption. Grateful until Robby noticed the teasing gleam in your eyes. How he could spot the mischief that darkened your eyes and didn’t have enough time to prepare.

“Don’t want to talk about it,” he grumbled.

He didn’t need to look to know you were side-eyeing him.

“It could be worse.”

“Oh, no I doubt that.”

“She could call you something less delicious.”

His hand was mid-reach to pull back the curtain. Your sentence pulled him short and forced him to look down at you like you’d just grown a second head.

“You think fruitcake is delicious? Nobody thinks fruitcake is delicious.”

“True, but it’s arguably better to be called a shitty holiday dessert than, say, something like cocksucker,” you shrugged, moving yourself around him to push behind the curtain.

He was supposed to be angry with you - and he was. He fucking was but…it was easy, almost too fucking easy, to forget the last few months that led up to what dissolved your relationship. It was easy to forget you’d both broken each other in different ways. Robby should’ve hated you, but he couldn’t, and, because of that, he was grateful you couldn’t hear the chuckle he tried to shake away before he followed in after you.

____________

As always thank you so much for your support and for reading! Comments and reblogs are always appreciated! Much Love,

#Residuals #ongoing series #the pitt #the pitt hbo #the pitt fanfiction #michael robinavitch #dr michael robinavitch #dr robby #dr robinavitch #dr robby x reader #dr michael robinavitch x reader #the pitt x reader #michael robinavitch x reader #dr robby x oc #michael robinavitch x oc #dr robby x you #michael robinavitch x you #noah wyle #saucy angsty babies

407 notes · View notes