#ill get back to her eventually maybe. remind me-

[cardboardclownery]

+ CHECK UR BATHROOM LUL!!! +

sorry about the title i dont know what came over me-

headcanon petscorps!! i designed these a whillllle ago i need to do smth with them,,

[rafeandonlyrafe]

another chance

words: 2.3k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, ex!bf rafe, female receiving oral, p in v sex, unprotected sex, drinking/partying, mentions of drugs

“have you noticed his new girl is y/n’s twin?” kelce whispers to topper, who just nods in response. rafe claims that he’s completely over you, that he’s glad you broke up with him and he’s not harboring any sort of resentment over the fact that you left him.

“its so weird.” kelce continues, taking a sip of his drink, watching as rafe holds the new girl around the waist, but he barely looks at her, like if he keeps her in his peripheral vision that he can pretend its you, instead of the first girl he found whose features resemble yours.

“hes getting fucked up all the time now too. he showed up for golf the other day completely strung out.” topper informs kelce, who frowns.

they both know that there is nothing they can do, they don’t want to force you to get back with rafe if you don’t want to, especially with the state he’s in. rafe grabs the bottle of booze he was pouring into his cup repeatedly, forgoing the plastic solo cup in favor of drinking straight out of the bottle.

“rafey, are you gonna take me up to your bed?” the girl asks, no so subtly begging to be fucked by him.

“don’t call me that.” rafe grunts. only you can call him by that nickname, even if you did break his heart.

“are you going to fuck me or not, cameron?” she questions.

“not.” rafe says honestly. he thought it would help, to get it out of his system, to take a new girl to bed, but when he tried to kiss someone at the first party he attended after you, it made him so sick he had to leave. she didn’t look like you, she didn’t smell like you, she didn’t act like you. she wasn’t what rafe wanted.

“fine, then im leaving.” the girl stomps away, like anything could compare to you leaving. rafe finishes the rest of the bottle before flopping down on the couch, letting the alcohol flowing through his system lull him into unconsciousness.

--

“you deserve to go out and party as much as he does y/n.” stephanie sighs, trying to convince you to join her tonight at the huge beach bash, but you don’t want to risk running into rafe.

“i know, i just don't want to see him with another girl.” you sigh. you may have been the one to break it off with rafe, but you weren't fully over him yet.

“maybe you need to get with one of the turons.” stephanie shrugs. “you know what they say, to get over you gotta get under…”

“that actually might not be a bad idea.” you admit. maybe it's what you need to get rafe out of your system. a random hookup with someone you'll never see again to erase the memory of his touch from your body.

“so does that mean you're coming?” stephanie asks hopefully.

you nod, already planning what you're going to where tonight. “it does.”

--

“shit, remind me to take you out for ice cream or something to thank you for convincing me to come out tonight.” you tell stephanie, stumbling away from the main dance area with your best friend.

“girl, i knew you needed this!” she exclaims, taking a sip of her cup before frowning, realizing it's empty.

“ill go get us refills, hold on.” you are a lot less drunk than stephanie, so you guide her to sit down before heading to find more alcohol to fill both your cups, wanting to enjoy tonight as much as possible.

you finally find a plastic folding table with some bottles on it, and quickly refill both your drinks before turning, gasping when you run right into someone.

“y/n.” rafe gasps out, his eyes bloodshot like he's been crying. he drops to his knees before before you, making you raise your eyebrows. “i miss you so much. please take me back, ill do anything, ill-” rafe begins to beg, his words slurred as it's obvious he's been drinking.

“rafe.” you cut him off eventually. rafe stops speaking, hands coming to rest on the back of your calves as he looks up at you with pleading eyes. “you're drunk.”

“no, no, no.” rafes head drops, leaning to press kisses along your knees. “im drunk but im serious. please, just give me another chance, ill do anything.”

you frown, hating seeing rafe this way. you broke up with him because you thought he spent too much time getting high and needed to get control of his temper, and didn't know what you could do to help that beside let him work through it by himself. 

“anything, y/n.” rafe continues, his hands gripping your legs so tightly. you glance up, looking at all the people at the party staring at you, probably shocked that rafe would get on his knees and beg for anyone to come back.

“you need to stop doing drugs as often.” you state to rafe, making sure to keep your voice low enough to not have it in earshot. “and you gotta work on not getting so angry at the pogues. i don't care that you hate them but you can't constantly be getting into fights.”

“done.” rafe says, nodding his head. “i just need you. ive been a mess without you.”

“we can give it another shot.” you say, and rafes shoots to his feet, his lips pressing against yours. you set the cups down on the table next to you before kissing back, hearing a smattering of whoops and cheers as you make out, your head turning dizzy like the alcohol on rafes tongue is affecting your own.

“i need you, please.” rafe says, and you know exactly what he's asking for. it's what you've been desperately craving from him as well. your bodies were beyond compatible, and you know no boy would compare, so even in the period that you were broken up, you didn't even bother trying to sleep with anyone.

“i have to find stephanie.” you tell rafe, knowing you need to check your friend is good before doing anything, but you loop your fingers through rafes and tug him behind you until you get back to the main dance area, seeing topper with his arm slung around stephanies waist while she grinds against him.

“see she's good.” rafe says, his voice husky, and you know that he's already getting turned on just from the thought of having you again.

you let rafe lead you to his truck, parked in a somewhat isolated spot, but you don't care at this point if people see you as you both climb into the back seat.

“thank you for giving me another chance.” rafe says, his eyes shiny in the low lighting. “i missed you so much. i was such a wreck, but i didn't sleep with anyone else even though we were broken up. i only wanted you.”

“rafe.” you coo, pressing your lips against his, stroking your fingertips over his jaw. “i missed you too.”

“wanna show you how much it means to me.” rafe says, guiding you backwards until your back is against the seat. “that you're giving me a second chance.” his lips skim over yours before he moves lower, schooching down the seat until he's resting between your legs. he takes the bottom of your skirt and pushes it up, revealing your panties.

“you really do gotta-” your speech is cut off with a gasp when rafe presses his lips against your underwear, kissing your cunt through the fabric. 

“gotta what baby?” rafe asks, moving to kiss along your thighs as well, his teeth occasionally making an appearance as he drags them against your skin, nipping when you open your mouth to reply.

“gotta get your shit together since im giving you a second chance.” you finally finish your sentence.

“oh, i will baby.” rafe says, rubbing his fingertip over your center, smirking to himself when he sees the fabric dampened with your wetness. “i went so crazy without you, id do anything to not lose you again.”

“take them off, please.” you whine. rafe tugs at your panties, sliding them down your legs until he has to guide them over your heels. he takes the material and scrunches it up, tossing it onto his drivers seat. “i’m keeping those.” he informs you.

“whatever.” you roll your eyes but can’t hide your smile, reaching down to rub your thumb against his cheekbone. 

rafe sighs with relief into your touch, leaning his head against your hand. “i’ve missed your taste.” he licks his lips, eyes on your core.

you spread your legs as much as you can in the back of the truck, wishing momentarily that you were having this reunion in a bed, but you know rafe wouldn’t be able to wait that long.

rafe doesn’t hesitate to lean forward, burying his head between your legs. his wide tongue flicks through your folds, licking over your cunt before swirling around your clit.

“god, you’re so good at this.” you moan out, moving your hand to rafes hair, taking the strands between your fingers to keep his face shoved into your cunt, not that he plans on stopping any time soon.

rafe sucks at your clit, feeling rewarded by coaxing moans out of you. his hands grip your thighs, squeezing your delicate flesh between his fingertips.

rafe moves his mouth lower, letting out obscene sounds as he slurps the wetness away from your hole before pushing his tongue against the ring of muscle. he begins to thrust immediately, pushing his tongue in and out of your entrance, giving you the first stimulation you’ve had since you broke up.

“the sweetest taste.” rafe says when he pulls away slightly to kiss along your inner thighs. “i don’t know how i lived without it.”

“you know what my plan was for tonight?” you hum, needing more from rafe, even as his mouth drops back around your clit. “to get with a random turon to help myself get over you.”

you feel rafe pause, his entire body stilling before his eyes raise to make contact with yours. “you were going to sleep with someone else?”

“i couldn’t get over you, i had to do something.” you say, knowing exactly what rafes reaction will be as he rises, wanting to draw that fire and passion out in him. it didn’t matter that you were the one who broke up with rafe, you thought at the time it would be better for both of you, but now you know you can’t live without him.

rafe moves quickly, his strong hands gripping your hips and turning you over. you quickly adjust, pushing up on your elbows as you place your knees on the seat, arching your back to show off your cunt.

rafe releases himself from his shorts, tugging them down his thighs before he lines himself up, sinking in with one quick stroke. your walls meld to his cock, still feeling like you were made for him.

“imagining me sleeping with another guy has really got you worked up, huh?” you question, breath coming out in a pant as rafe instantly begins to thrust.

“shut up.” rafe groans, hips snapping forward into yours. ��you’re mine. you’re never leaving me again.”

“yeah?” you question, bringing your ass back to meet rafes thrusts. “gonna get clean for me? gonna get it together?”

“anything for you.” rafe vows, glancing out the windows to make sure no one is looking as he takes you from behind, not that they would be able to see through the tint anyways.

you moan as rafe grabs your ass, relieved to finally have him inside of you again as his cock repeatedly enters you. rafe knows he can’t last very long, having been so desperate for you that he can’t hold himself back as your cunt clenches around him.

“feels so good rafey.” you whine.

“call me that again.” rafe says, needing to hear the nickname slip from between your lips again.

“rafey.” you call out. rafe flips you yet again, this time onto your back as he immediately reenters you, moving too fast for you to comprehend until his mouth is pressed against yours in a searing kiss.

“again, please.” rafe mumbles against your lips, bringing a hand to your clit and rubbing it with his thumb as he thrusts rapidly, knowing your next moan is going to send him over the edge.

you place your hands on the back of his head, giving him a strong kiss as he plays with your clit, your orgasm building as well. you pull away when you can’t hold back the moan anymore, “oh god, yes, rafey.” rafe groans, burying his head in your shoulder as he cums, pumping into you throughout his high as his thumb finally brings you to orgasm as well, clit pulsing as you both pant, letting out low moans and groans as your bodies come down.

rafe presses kisses to your cheeks, your jaw slackened open, still recovering. “i’ve missed your pussy so much.” rafe says before looking down, watching himself pull out.

“come here.” you whine, hating that he’s pulled away. rafe quickly tucks himself back into his pants before hovering over your body again, cuddling into your shoulder. it’s an awkward position, legs askew and body parts pressing against the doors of the truck.

“can i take you home? i want to hold you while i sleep, make sure i don’t let you go again.” rafe says, willing to beg if he needs to.

“of course.” you stretch out your sore muscles, eyelids already feeling heavy, but you know you just have to wait for rafe to drive you home before you can sleep.

it’s not awkward despite the time away from each other as you move to the front seat, making sure to text stephanie, who quickly responds with a picture of herself in toppers bed, making you giggle.

“i love you.” rafe blurts out, unable to not tell you when hearing your laugh.

“i love you too.” you lean over to kiss rafe on the cheek as he drives you back to his house, but you are already home as his fingers link with yours.

taglist: @drewstarkeyslut @rafecamerongirl @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @jjmaybankisbae @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @kamninaries @buckyswhxre @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary @rubixgsworld

[lvnleah]

tough trainings | no more secrets.

find the masterlist to the no more secrets universe here!

December 12th 2024 | 8 weeks pregnant. 

You barely made it to the bathroom in time.

One second, you were curled up under your duvet, trying to ignore the uncomfortable feeling in your stomach, and the next, you were on your knees in front of the toilet, retching.

The nausea had been lingering for weeks now, but this morning felt worse. Maybe it was exhaustion catching up with you, or maybe your body just wanted to remind you that you were well and truly pregnant. Either way, it was miserable.

You groaned, resting your forehead against your arm as you tried to catch your breath. The floor was cold against your knees, but you couldn’t bring yourself to move just yet.

A soft knock on the door made you wince. “You okay in there?” Beth’s voice, gentle but concerned.

You reached up weakly, unlocking the door. A second later, she was kneeling beside you, rubbing slow circles on your back.

“Rough morning?” she murmured.

You huffed out something between a laugh and a sigh. “That obvious? This child’s trying to kill me.”

Beth smiled sympathetically. “They’re just reminding you they’re there, H. Come on, let’s get you up.”

She helped you to your feet, steadying you when you swayed slightly. You felt drained already, and the day had barely started.

By the time you made it to the living room, Beth had forced a glass of water into your hands and a piece of dry toast onto a plate in front of you. 

“Try to eat,” she encouraged. “Even if it’s just a little.”

Food wasn’t appealing at the moment. The only thing you could sometimes manage was dry toast, the thought of anything else made your stomach churn even more. 

You nibbled at the corner of the toast, your stomach still unsettled but slightly more manageable now. Beth sat across from you, watching carefully but not pushing, letting you sit in the quiet.

Eventually, you sighed. “I’ve got the gym today.”

Beth raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“I can’t just stop,” you muttered. “I need to at least try.”

“Don’t push yourself, yeah?” Beth said, “You’re exhausted, we don’t need to pick up an injury.”

Before you could argue, the front door opened, “We’re back!” Steph called as her and Viv stepped inside. 

Steph and Viv had taken Myle and Calvin out for a walk a little while ago. Viv was back visiting from Manchester and Steph had just moved out and into a flat across the hallway. 

“Morning, sicko,” Steph teased lightly, toeing off her shoes as she walked into the living room. “How we feeling?”

You shot her a glare but didn’t have the energy to back it up. “Like death.”

Viv gave you a sympathetic smile, setting Myle’s leash on the hook by the door. “Beth said it’s been rough.”

“That’s an understatement,” you muttered, pushing your toast around your plate. “This baby’s trying to ruin me, I swear. I ain’t ever felt this ill before.”

Calvin trotted over, resting his head on your knee with big, pleading eyes. You scratched behind his ears absentmindedly, grateful for the comfort.

Steph plopped down onto the couch beside you, stretching her legs out. “Well, you still look better than you did last night. That’s something, right?”

You huffed. “The bars set very low, Catley.”

Viv sat on the arm of the sofa, arms crossed. “You going into the gym today?”

You nodded. “Just some light work. No contact or anything.”

Beth shot Viv a look over your head, and Viv hummed, clearly unconvinced. “Take it easy, yeah? No one’s expecting you to be at full fitness right now.”

You sighed. “I know. It’s just—” You trailed off. “I don’t want to feel like I’m falling behind.”

“You won’t be. You’re still training, just in a different way.” Beth said, “You’re growing a human, H. That’s a whole job on its own.”

Steph nudged your shoulder. “Yeah, and you’ve got us to keep you in check. No overdoing it, alright?”

You rolled your eyes but nodded, knowing you weren’t going to win against them.

The gym was quiet when you arrived, which you were grateful for. You’d been sticking to light work since finding out you were pregnant like strength training, mobility exercises, light cardio but today, even that felt like too much.

Your body was heavy with exhaustion, muscles aching from nothing in particular. Even simple movements felt sluggish, like you were fighting against yourself.

You gritted your teeth, pushing through the set, but frustration built with every rep. You hated feeling weak. Hated how much your body was changing in ways you couldn’t control.

“Take a break,” Kim’s voice cut through your frustration, firm but calm.

You exhaled sharply, setting the weight down. “I’m fine.”

Kim gave you a knowing look. “No you’re stubborn, that’s what you are. Sit for a bit before you collapse.”

Before you could argue, a new voice interrupted. “She won’t sit. She’s incapable of listening to reason,” Kyra announced, dropping her bag onto the floor dramatically. “It’s like talking to a brick wall.”

You shot her a glare. “No one asked for your input, Cooney-Cross.”

Kyra smirked. “Aww the gremlin making your grump?” She plopped down on the bench next to you, nudging you with her knee. “So, how’s the little gremlin? Still trying to destroy you from the inside?”

You rolled your eyes. “Yep, and they’re winning.”

“Dang you’re letting a baby beat you?” Kyra winced, “Not even born and already losing to a baby.”

Steph, who had just walked over, sighed. “Kyra, stop being a pest.”

“Impossible,” Kyra said, grinning. “It’s in my nature.”

Kim shook her head, clearly done with the conversation, and walked off with a small smirk.

You leaned your head back against the wall. “Why are you here?”

“Entertainment,” Kyra said. “And I knew you’d need moral support. Or someone to annoy you so much you forget you feel like crap.”

“Mission accomplished,” you muttered.

Kyra threw an arm around your shoulders dramatically. “Aw, you love me really.” She said, placing a playful kiss on your temple quickly. 

Before you could shove her away, Lotte and Katie walked in, spotting you immediately.

“How’s the little nugget?” Lotte asked, sitting on your other side.

“Winning,” Kyra answered for you. “H is getting battered.”

Katie snorted. “Sounds about right. You look knackered, kid.” She winced. 

“Wow thanks, Katie,” you said dryly. “I totally didn’t notice.”

“Just saying,” she shrugged. “You don’t need to be pushing yourself so much. No one expects it.”

You sighed, rubbing a hand over your face. “I just hate feeling useless.”

“You’re not useless. You’re literally growing a whole human.”

Kyra grinned. “Yeah, and once they’re out, you can force them to be your personal assistant for eighteen years as payback!”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s a long game plan.”

Kyra shrugged. “Worth it.”

“If one more person says ‘you’re growing a human,’ I’m throwing hands.” You mumbled, sighing as you threw your head back.”

Kyra gasped, “Violence? From you? The baby really is ruining you!”

“Kyra, leave the poor girl alone.” Steph sighed as you yawned beside Kyra. “She’s wrecked, look at her!”

“I need to get back to training.” You sighed, standing up as you lost your balance a little bit. 

“Woahhh,” Kyra said, grabbing onto your wrist and pulling you back down. “Just sit for a little bit, okay?”

“Since when did you become serious?” You groaned as you let her pull you down. “Are you feeling alright?” You said, placing your hand on your forehead before Kyra squatted it away. 

“I’m not serious, I’m just concerned.” Kyra said, “Just sit for a bit.”

You did, begrudgingly, and at some point, exhaustion took over, and you must have dozed off.

Beth woke you up a few hours later, her voice gentle as she shook your shoulder. “Hey, H. C’mon, let’s go home.”

You said up confused, a few baby hairs laying messily over your face, “Huh? What—I need to train, shit.”

Beth rolled her eyes, brushing the stray hairs off your forehead. “No, you don’t. It's time to go home and sleep in an actual bed. You fell asleep on the bench.”

You blinked, still groggy, as you realized everyone was leaving the gym. Kyra stood beside Beth, talking a sip of her water. 

“Aww, it’s all too much for little baby Hayden Daniels.” Kyra teased you. 

You shoved her lightly, mumbling, “Shut up,” as Beth helped you to your feet. Your legs felt heavy, exhaustion still clinging to you like a weight, but at least the nausea had settled for now.

Steph had appeared by then, grabbing both yours and Kyra’s bags. “C’mon, let’s get you fed and to bed before you fall asleep again.”

You were too tired to argue, letting them herd you out of the gym and back to Beth’s house. All four of you, Kyra included, climbed into Beth’s car and headed home. 

Kyra was coming for dinner tonight, a usual occurrence, but tonight you weren’t feeling like staying up. You had your dinner before retreating to your bedroom where you soon fell asleep. 

A few hours later you found yourself unable to sleep. You tried everything to fall back to sleep but nothing was working no matter what you tried. You glanced at your phone that read 2:38am. Your body ached with exhaustion, but your mind wouldn’t settle.

You sighed as you rolled out of bed, throwing your hoodie on as you padded downstairs. The house was quiet, only the faint hum of the fridge breaking the silence. 

“Hey, what are you doing?” A voice suddenly said. 

“Fuck!” You screamed, jumping out of your own skin. “Kyra! What the fuck!”

Kyra burst into laughter, “You're too easy to scare.” she wheezed, barely able to get the words out. “That was the best thing I’ve ever seen.”

You clutched your chest, heart pounding as you glared at her. “What the fuck are you even doing here? Are you trying to kill a pregnant woman?”

Kyra smiled, still giggling. “I could ask you the same thing.”

You rolled your eyes and made your way to the kitchen, grabbing a glass from the cupboard. “I live here, Kyra.” you muttered, filling it with water. “Didn’t know you were staying the night.”

Kyra shrugged. “Didn’t plan to. But I stayed for dinner, and then your couch was comfy, so here we are.” She patted the empty spot next to where she was laying down. “Come on, might as well suffer together.”

You hesitated for half a second before giving in, flopping down beside her. Kyra immediately threw a blanket over both of you, her arm resting lazily behind you as you laid down beside her. 

The warmth was comforting, and surprisingly, so was Kyra’s presence.

“What’s keeping you up?” she asked after a moment.

You sighed, turning your head slightly to look at her. “Dunno. Just restless.”

“Probably the gremlin’s fault.” Kyra nudged your knee with hers. “Little troublemaker, already messing up your sleep schedule.”

You huffed out a tired laugh. “Probably.”

For a while, you just layed there, the quiet feeling oddly peaceful. Then, out of nowhere, Kyra whispered, “You’re scared, aren’t you?”

You stiffened slightly, but Kyra didn’t push. She just waited.

And maybe it was the exhaustion, or maybe it was just her, but you found yourself nodding. “Yeah, I am.”

Kyra sighed, shaking her head. “You’re too hard on yourself, you know that?”

You gave her a look. “You’re one to talk.”

She smirked. “Yeah, well, I never said I was a good example.” She nudged you gently. “But seriously, Hayds. You’re not slacking. You’re growing a tiny gremlin. That’s more than enough.”

You sighed, “I just miss feeling like myself. It's weird.”

Kyra was quiet for a second before she spoke again, softer this time. “You will feel like yourself again. It’s just a shit phase right now. But you’ll get through it.”

You glanced at her, surprised by the sincerity in her voice. “That almost sounded wise.”

Kyra grinned. “Don’t get used to it. I have a reputation to uphold.”

You shook your head, smiling slightly despite yourself.

Something in your chest loosened at that, and for the first time all night, you felt like you might actually sleep.

“…You’re still an annoying little shit, though,” you muttered, nudging her side.

Kyra chuckled, not letting go of your hand. “Yeah, yeah. Go to sleep.”

And somehow, finally, you did.

[ma1dita]

when the curtains close

a 'partners in crime' installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader prev -> love me dry | next -> asking for trouble words: 5.3k summary: (post-tlt) The one where you lose two people in the Labyrinth that day. All strings are cut. (Pollux, Annabeth, Percy, and Mr. D find out the biggest difference between you and Luke.) (Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader) a/n: yeah to me this fic sounds and feels like that tiktok of the girl humming to her microwave. depictions of the titular battle of the labyrinth at CHB, some blood/gore, death & grief. the usual. you forced me to by lizzy mcalpine. references to cat on a hot tin roof by tennessee williams if you squint (posted 5/14/24)

—

The first time Pollux has a panic attack, time seems to stop and the world keeps moving on without him.

He’s reminded of a time when you rambled on about how anxiety takes possession of the senses like a moment frozen in a snapshot meant for you to identify. In the memory, you had your feet kicked up on the dash flipping through a DSM-5 while he and Castor took turns speeding up and down Farm Road (totally normal older sister behavior from you, and when a cop pulled you over, the three of you narrowly escaped a ticket by talking in riddles and godly smoke that smelled like grapes). Pollux still remembers the sound of laughter in the car blending like three different chords to an archaic melody (or squawking crows in the strawberry fields)— the bond between you three laid out before time knew limits and was always meant to be.

It’s still his favorite song. You’re their favorite (and only) sister, they love to joke. These are facts that will never change.

“You two have each other, and well, I’ve got this,” you had said, the Zippo flicking open and closed against your thumb in the blossoming darkness of the car. Pink and purple rays of waning light blanketed the old hatchback as it steadily made its way back towards Half-Blood Hill, comfortable silence shared in the way only siblings can stand to be quiet—when there are no words needed to get a point across. But you’ve always set yourself apart from the pack, not needing anyone like how they need each other.

Not since Luke left, at least. The growing distance between you three since your untimely resignation from camp was proof enough. Pollux’s eyes met Castor’s in the rearview mirror as they both noticed your sad smile. His brother’s voice broke through the silence then, having always been the one blunt enough to say what was on his mind, “You’ve got us too if you let us see you more often.” Your fidgeting stops.

“It’s not you two, it’s just hard to be back here sometimes. I see things for what they used to be instead of how they really are now. Now it’s just… it has to be all business.”

Pollux cracked a smile, “S’what you get for growing up. Soon we’ll just be annoying voices in your head like you are to us.” Shutting your textbook, you turned to look at them from the passenger seat, eyes that match theirs darting between their blond heads, “All of us have to grow up eventually. Except maybe you two— I prefer you in my nightmares like the kids from The Shining. Whenever you get sick of Dad, come see me. Gods know that camp deserves a break from the two of you too.” Your knuckles knocked against both of their heads affectionately as he put the car in park, “My built-in bodyguards, huh? Always looking out for me.”

All words and meaning escape Pollux now as he stands in the greenery of the North Woods with battle gear ill-fitted to his large frame. It’s the first siege he’s ever taken part in, the first time he’s had to use battle strategies outside of Capture the Flag and the first time he’s slashed his way through monsters and demigods with the intent to try and kill or be killed. Sword and Shield could have never prepared any of them for this—as his eyes meet Castor’s and then yours with all of you thinking the same thing, the three of you join the sea of iridescent orange through mind-numbing black moving like a sharp three-pronged sword.

This type of stuff isn’t typical for him, he thinks. He and Castor are used to being comedic relief— being the source of laughs and juice boxes for pesky little campers instead of facing the real world outside the boundaries of the Mist. Perhaps your father babied them to make up for the time he lost with you, but there’s a moment where he wonders how being kept soft will keep him alive in a world as harsh as this one.

Childlike innocence is ripped away from them in the bubble they’ve inhabited until this moment. Home is now a warzone and like lambs set up for slaughter, the twins both turn to look at you as a shuddering gasp leaves your mouth at the carnage in your surroundings, monster blood and fallen friends and enemies at your feet. Breaking away from formation to take a deep breath, he looks at the sky and wonders where your father is, but smoke and soot fill his lungs and he coughs desperately for a breath of fresh air.

Pollux thinks he must have stopped breathing before Castor took his last breath. It wasn’t supposed to be a competition, but sometimes life was just funny like that.

5, 4, 3, 2, 1.

Just like you told him.

Castor was always the more manic one while Pollux knew how to endure. Children of Dionysus are forced to befriend insanity before it makes an enemy out of them—twisting the ugly into what’s real and creating something beautiful out of the deranged. You’ve shown the boys how you detach from emotion by recognizing the details—separating fact and fiction, a methodical process only describable by the blood that runs through your veins. Pollux doesn’t know where to start—everything happens so fast but it plays out in front of him like someone put the pieces together to a stop-motion animation.

He sees Castor’s sword fall to the ground when he gets slashed on the forearm and sees him get clubbed over the head with a metal weapon he’s only seen bad renditions forged for theater practices and hanging on the walls of the armory. Castor falls first to his knees, and then into the dirt with a thud. He never knew there could be that much blood coming out of a person, much less a mirror image of himself. Pollux sees your face come into his line of vision, deep maroon splatters on your face glittering with hints of ichor and then you’re moving because he can’t. The enemy is coming back for him now, and for a moment he wonders if Castor will be mad if he lets him. He sees you turn in an instant, swinging your sword down on the neck of the aggressor, a teenager not much older than he and his brother are—were. It’s funny how his brain immediately makes the switch to past tense, and how he can’t stop thinking about how he’ll now and forever be older than his twin. Pollux then sees you catch the body of the boy you just killed as life seeps out of him slower than it did for Castor.

It doesn’t make him feel any better, though.

His knees hit the ground next to his twin, touching the sludge of dirt soft like quicksand and moist with what he hopes is not blood, but Pollux is not quite sure of what else there is to hope for. His fist is wrapped around Castor’s shirtsleeve, touching faded orange and sweat as he holds on for dear life. Maybe if he tries hard enough his soul will still be intertwined with his. Your hand touches his shoulder, five fingers reaching out to brush the back of his neck and the feeling of your skin helps him refocus a bit, even if you’re saying something he can’t make out. Then the metal of your Zippo lighter feels cool to the touch within his palm and he knows what he needs to do.

The battle isn’t over, but for the three of you, everything stops here. There is no going forward without your brother. You were never meant to be children of war.

Pollux hears the sound of his heartbeat thundering through his ears, blood rushing through his veins and can’t help but notice the silence amid the chaos. There are no words fit for this—and even if there were, Castor and you were always the more talkative ones. He hears the spark of the purple flame between his fingers, blowing the smoke over him and his brother’s body, and their father’s powers blanket them like how you used to tuck them into bed, warm and safe. This is what your family is—unconventional and unending even in different realms of existence. And then Grover’s scream of panic echoes through the air and everyone hears that. Hysteria ensues as monsters and demigods alike run amok, and Pollux realizes he’s stopped shaking.

In his father’s domain, he will always find comfort.

You stand above him now directing campers calmly with a free hand—a brewing storm crackling underneath your skin that he now understands. Hidden by the illusion of smoke, Pollux’s tired bones rest alongside his brother’s dead ones— together as they always were meant to be.

The three of you together, his little family—that is a fact he hoped would never change.

The smell of grapes envelops him as he leans his forehead against your muddy leg… when did the battle end? It almost masks the scent of death that rips through the air as your hand brushes through his sandy hair. Pollux stinks of sweat and you stifle a laugh as you see him smell his armpit. You three were always the same type of fucked up. He doesn’t look down at Castor laid across his lap but knows he would’ve found it funny too. Ignorance of reality even for a moment serves as a comfort. Purple meets purple as he looks up at you with a smile that doesn’t fit his face anymore and he croaks, “Wonder what dad would say about our first battle…”

Glory was never meant to be this bittersweet—it tastes like blood in his mouth until he wipes it away from his cheek and realizes it’s Castor’s. In a way, it’s his too, everything about him and within him is exactly the same down to the star stuff the fates wove them from.

“I’ll be the one to tell him. You take care of Castor,” you answer, as if there’s anything else he would want to do and then he realizes you’re crying— and he’s seeing all of the pieces put together in front of him in this photograph in his mind.

Pollux blinks slowly.

Suddenly the image he has of you is more defined— there is new meaning to the sadness you could never shake off all these years, and he is too young to lose his greatest love, which makes him realize then that so were you.

How long does this have to go on? he wonders, grabbing onto your hand with an eagerness only comparable to the feeling he got when you and Luke whisked him and Castor away from Florida all those years ago. This punishment of living while half of his soul does not—what is he supposed to do next? This was supposed to be the safe place. There is nowhere left to run. His thumb rubs circles into the back of your shaking blood-soaked hand, a secret within the smoke.

Pollux thinks there will always be a part of him frozen in time now, a memory of this day hung up in his mind like a portrait as he holds Castor’s cold hand in his warm one.

—

Annabeth finds you in the middle of the strawberry fields before the sun sets. She knows you won’t be sleeping tonight, not if you can fight it— not when there’s so much to do. You’ve long grown out of your ripped-up and tie-dyed camp shirts, and the one slung on your frame is newly pressed and starchy from the storage room of the Big House, still stiff against your freshly washed skin. When she’s close enough to touch you, you’ve been scrubbed clean of today.

She doesn’t have to be a daughter of Athena to know that you know that she’s there even if you can’t see her, but for once she feels like she has to hide. For once, Annabeth Chase doesn’t know what to say. How can she explain the feeling of guilt that coils around her brain like barbed wire—how can she even begin to apologize for the thing wearing her brother’s skin, knowing that it killed yours? For once, her hubris is crushed by the sinking feeling of humiliation.

“Was your first quest all you thought it would be, Annie?”

As she takes her navy cap off, silver braided strands around her face wave in the wind as a reminder of what Luke put her through. Though as she looks at you now with your berry-stained fingers plucking at stems one by one instead of using your powers, she thinks that your mind is elsewhere—anywhere but here, where everything is a painful reminder of your five years as a camper.

Five years with Luke.

Mourning him isn’t a new feeling for either of you, even though he comes in and out of your lives like a poltergeist you want to bash across the head, just always out of reach. But he’s a constant, even when he’s not here and he’s what binds you two together as you huddle hidden away from the rest of camp.

“He did this for you.”

It’s not a question, more so a fact out of Annie’s mouth when you finally meet her eyes and sigh, “Luke’s always had a way going about things. The most stubborn man to ever live.” You toss another strawberry into the crate at your feet. No one’s working right now, trying to tend to the injured and the dead. Everyone’s doing their best to chase away the nightmares that are bound to come, and she knows you’ll be making rounds with her on the night shift to ease everyone’s anxieties. But there’s a thought so strong it makes her head hurt, bursting at the seams until she can’t stop with her last-ditch effort to fix her found family.

“Maybe if we find him, we can save—”

“He’s been out of time for a while now, Annabeth. We both knew that,” you say, voice firm and unwavering. You’ve never sounded so monotone before, and it hits her as her mouth falls agape, “You’re giving up on him? Why… why would you give up on him?” Anger courses through her veins like fire and she’s mad that she’s at the center of this prophecy, of Hermes’s anger for his doomed son who will love you until the ends of the earth.

And what of her?

What of the hope she has in happy endings, how is it that you’re so damn calm? Annabeth kicks at the crate, strawberries rolling out in different directions and your jaw tightens as you let her be petulant, let her scream and yell until her inner child can catch up with the reality of the world around you.

“How could you?”

Your name echoes as she repeats it, grabbing at your shoulders and she’s as desperate as the truth that shakes her when you cup her face in your hands and wipe her tears.

“You’ve carried the weight of the world Annabeth– you know what it feels like to let it go. It’s time to let him go. There’s nothing I can do or say to fix this.”

Then it hits her that you knew of his fate and yet this was still the outcome. There was nothing else to do but watch him be puppeteered by a Titan and have to fight evil while it wears his face.

“He came to you after he saw me, didn’t he? Why didn’t you tell me? Why don’t you love him anymore?”

Because it wouldn’t have changed a thing, your eyes say. Instead, you grimace as you say, “Wouldn’t that be funny if it were true?” You lean down and pick up the fallen berries, some bruised and covered in dirt, and then you look at her again with teary eyes.

“Some prophecy huh? To lose a love to worse than death. What could we have done besides love him until the end?”

“He’s still in there. I know you know that too. Don’t talk about him like he’s not,” Annabeth insists, and a sad smile settles upon your face. It’s as gentle as the kiss of the breeze on your cheeks.

“I lost a brother today, Annie.”

“Me too.”

—

The funny thing about planning funerals is that with all the fuss it takes to organize one, you still find extra time on your hands. Barely getting any sleep and dragging yourself out of your dad’s bed, Pollux snores loudly next to you after hours of working on Castor’s shroud. Sleep wasn’t expected for either of you, but being unconscious was the only way of giving your brains a reprieve. The both of you have been busy doubling down on the preparations, even if it means Mr. D won’t be back in time while he’s out rallying gods for war.

The faster Castor’s earthly body is reconnected with his soul, the easier his trip will be into the Underworld, Nico says, and it’s funny how comforting the little emo pipsqueak can be when it comes to matters of death.

Perhaps this is the solace you bring to others with things you’re able to control—keeping camp afloat is something you were always good at, and helping every traumatized child that comes up to you for a juice box or a lullaby eases the guilt that follows you. Walking around Camp Half-Blood for more than a weekend made you feel like a judge, jury, and executioner. Though most of the campers from almost five years ago have either aged out, defected, or died—the ones that remain still look at you like you’re trouble.

Perhaps you always will be.

You even found yourself with the time to pray to Hermes last night for your brother’s safe passage into the afterlife, though if he’s angry at Annabeth, he must hate you for letting Luke go. Dinner didn’t seem appetizing enough anyway, so your whole plate was tossed into the hearth. You hope he likes chicken and rice.

But if a god can’t fight fate, what did he expect you to do?

The Iris Message to your dad last night was difficult, to say the least. Pollux’s hands shook as he continued to paint grape vines onto the silk cloth and the both of you didn’t say anything when your father started to cry. He out of all of the gods knows what it’s like to be tested to the limits—to endure pain and it’s a gift you and your brother are grateful for in times like these. Watching the god display the human emotion that either of you couldn’t as freely made it more real though.

There was also the interesting predicament of Chris Rodriguez being locked up in the basement of the Big House. Replacing screaming fits with serenity was almost second nature, and your gentle hands were what got Clarisse to truly respect you again for the first time in years. You could hear her sneak downstairs and talk to him while he slept (and the look in her eyes when you’d greet her with a cup of coffee made it known to you that she finally understands what it means to love someone who’s lost—two demigod daughters filled with a lot of rage and hurt were more alike than they think).

So the morning of your little brother’s funeral, you found yourself on the shoreline of Canoe Lake, setting your Redbull against the post of the dock and looking out onto the water.

You needed to do something with your hands. In the past few days, if your fingers were not occupied by pen and paper, a guitar, supply crates, or anything else that was helpful to others and all the more distracting for you, it’s been so easy to pick at any little thing. Perhaps it was your subconscious trying to reflect the damage on the inside, but today, your nail polish was chipped beyond belief. A small price to pay to not lose it without a signature boyish smile to ease your worries and amber eyes that could help you escape from the routine.

Running camp was always easier back then with your runaway boy and his scarred cheek.

How pathetic.

Crouched over in the sand, you plucked stones and filled your pockets with them. They knocked against each other — weighing your pockets down as you walked closer to the dock. Swinging your feet off the side and chucking them into the water, you could barely achieve a ripple.

It’s so quiet that you end up wondering if the rocks in your pockets would weigh you down to the bottom of the lake. It must be nice down there, to exist away from everything.

Bubbles surface slowly in front of you, then Percy’s head bobs in the water as he squints at you through sunlight.

“You chucked a rock at my head!”

A smile tugs at your lips, almost indiscernible but definitely there, “I was trying to skip them. Didn’t know you were doing water tricks in there, kid.” His grin gleams like freshwater pearls, pulling himself up onto the dock as his hand clasps yours. Shaking his sopping hair, Percy’s gangly frame sits next to yours like a wet bag of sand—all wrinkly and misshapen and sprinkling you with lakewater.

“Maybe next time don’t pick rocks the size of your fist. How many have you got in there? Your aim is scarily accurate,” he laughs and you huff and shake your head when his hand sticks into your pocket and takes out a few smooth ones to roll around in his hand. You mirror him, watching him skip a few stones into the water that reach a good distance before sinking into the depths of the lake.

There’s something sad about feeling comfortable to trauma dump on the teenage son of Poseidon, but with the way he grabs your arm at your third unsuccessful toss of a rock, you can’t do anything else but sigh.

“Why didn’t any of you call me, Percy?”

He was waiting for this question—it’s been banging around in his head since the beginning of Annabeth’s quest, and perhaps her talk with you yesterday didn’t go as expected so once again he’s left with the difficult part.

Things happen to turn out pretty difficult for him a lot, he's noticed.

Many things could have been made easier in the past few weeks: Ariadne being your stepmother and her blessing to you would’ve made the Labyrinth easier to navigate, and having another demigod to fight alongside him instead of a mortal girl would’ve been a plus too. But he looks at you with ocean eyes and a smaller smile that reminds you of how he looked at you when you dropped him off in Montauk the summer you met him and quit your head counselor job.

“You’ve already made a lot of difficult decisions. We weren’t sure if…”

The rotten wood beneath you creaks under your shifting weight as you turn to him, tucking your legs underneath your bottom.

“Didn’t think I could handle it?”

He shakes his head, “The opposite, actually. Annabeth has this notion that you’re the only one that can save him. You know, back on my first quest I met Luke’s dad and he told me something…”

You swallow instead of answering. There’s no way Percy is giving you Hermes’s advice right now. Somehow this feels like karmic retribution after years of spiting that asshole, and what he tells you next is more of a sign that it must be true.

“He said, ‘Do you know what that feels like? To be so close to someone you love knowing neither of you has any choice but to keep hurting each other?’ I didn’t get it then, but I do now.”

“With Luke and his mom?” you ask, picking at the remaining slivers of varnish on your thumbnail.

“With you and Luke. I didn’t call you, because… why would I want to see you hurt after everything?” Percy says this like it’s something he would do for everyone.

Perhaps it is, but the knot that forms in your throat feels as heavy as the boulder you almost sunk into his skull. He’s tall enough to lean your head against now, and you don’t mind the water spots that will form along the side of your funeral outfit. The shape of him it leaves will remind you of the little brother you gained through so much loss.

“Plus he has a new girlfriend. Absolute horse of a girl,” he jokes. It slips over your head but you still giggle, “I could’ve taken her.”

“I know, that was Grover’s worry. You’re prettier anyway…” Percy pauses, and then clears his throat, “You’ve always taken care of this place, y’know? Even after….I just think someone ought to take care of you.”

Your shoulder bumps against his as you finally skip a rock. It only bounces across the water twice and you think Percy might have had something to do with it, but you’re not bothered by the help this time around.

—

You wake up in the dark of night to see your dad looming in the doorway to his office. With drool and a post-it stuck to your cheek, he comes over to ruffle your hair in amicable silence.

“Hard at work or hardly working?” he chuckles, leaning over your shoulder to scan over the paperwork sorted into piles for him to sign from his absence.

“Hm. You wish,” you scoff, leaning against your arm as you look at him. He’s not in his usual eyesore of attire, wearing a clean-pressed suit with his hair slightly slicked back.

“You look good. The meeting went okay?”

“Grover will be fine. The Council of Cloven Elders? Not so much. Neither are the gods ready to take sides. Putting out little fires everywhere as we speak.”

The wheels of the office chair roll as you swing your feet, and if you both listen closely enough you can hear Pollux snoring upstairs. Chiron loved the earplugs you gave him.

Your father’s face smooths out a bit at the sight of you and the sound of his son’s breathing upstairs and he asks, “Are you? Good?”

A shrug slides off your shoulders, “How does one be good in a world like this one?”

A startling scream echoes off the walls of the Big House, rattling the floorboards from below as your father grimaces.

The work is never done for you two.

“Don’t look at me like that. It was worse when he first came here.”

“Don’t doubt it,” he mumbles, brushing lint off your shirt before he notices you’re donning neon orange. “Didn’t do laundry, princess?”

“Pollux and I haven’t gone back to our cabin since... I can wake him up if you—”

Mr. D shakes his head and goes to toss his body onto the couch against the window, shutting his eyes and taking a deep breath.

“Dad? Do you think Chris is a bad person?”

A beat passes and you think he may have fallen asleep, but then his voice sounds like gravel scraping up his throat.

“I don’t think anyone can be bad, kid. I think it is more often that people get lost. What Rodriguez needs is someone to take hold of him gently, and hand his life back to him—you…Clarisse… that’s what we’re giving him.”

Now you’re silent, staring at the dust on his name placard at the edge of the desk.

“Do you think otherwise?”

He calls your name again, and you look up like you’re about to lie to him but don’t have the energy to.

“Princess, do you think you’re a bad person?”

He stands up and walks around to your side of the desk, sitting on the edge so you have to look at him.

“I killed someone. During the battle. Didn’t even think twice about it, slashed his neck as soon as Castor went down and…” you sniff. “I kill monsters, Dad, not children. How does that make me any different?”

The last time blood was on your hands like this it was Luke’s in the Garden of Hesperides. All these years later you ended up being right— the only person you vowed to get bloody for is Luke Castellan, and now in a twisted turn of fate, you’ve bloodied your hands because of him.

“Because you did it for your brother. There are no other explanations needed.”

He sees the exhaustion in your eyes, the drop in your shoulders, but your dad also sees the strength in your bones that spans generations and he knows you and Pollux are strong because you are both his.

“Humans believe in life everlasting—glory, as some call it, but they’re too focused on achieving it on earth instead of enjoying what life has to offer,” he scoffs, “Everyone has the guts to die, but no one has the guts to truly live. How sad.”

“His name was Rowan. Son of Hecate. I taught him how to whistle the summer I left. This is all my fault, Dad,” you say shakily as he comes near and pulls you into his side. He shushes you but you relent.

“Luke’s killing all these people to fulfill a promise he made for me. I’m just fucking disgusted with myself for being the cause of it all. What good life can I deserve when wherever I go I leave a trail of blood?”

Love and addiction must be so alike; to know that to be sober you can’t indulge in the vice ever again—not only does it hurt you, but others around you. But through the years you’ve always kept the taste of his name in your mouth, the feeling of his skin under your fingertips, and the knowledge of why he’s destroying the world so he can make you a better one. Insanity stems from fighting for so long that you embrace the pain; feeling something so intensely that when it consumes you you’re able to walk out the other side and wear it as armor.

Not everyone is hardwired to persevere.

There are moments like a night like these where it would be easy to give up. Instead, you pour two glasses of whiskey you’ve conjured and hand one to your dad. You both sip on your drinks slowly, embracing the crawling feeling of the burn.

“Liquor is one way out and death is another,” your dad sighs blissfully. He almost looks rejuvenated by the alcohol he knows he’ll hear about from Zeus later, but perhaps the death of his son is a good enough pardon.

“For some of us, we don’t have to think about the answer.”

Mr. D grabs a pen off the desk and starts signing papers to do something with his hands, and then you speak again, “I think I’d rather die for people I love,” and your dad’s attention whips to your blank face staring at the moon outside the window. “Instead of killing for them. I’ve never been a good soldier, Dad.”

Mr. D looks at you thoughtfully and wonders where all the time has gone that you sit there in front of him with more knowledge than him at your mortal age before saying, “You’re my daughter. You’re a fighter. Death is for chumps anyway.”

He lifts you by the arm to try to usher you up the stairs but you stay in his office chair swatting his hands away.

“Got work to do, you and I. Not getting rid of me until it’s done.”

“When are you going home?” he asks, pulling up a chair next to yours.

“I am home.”

You don’t look up from the papers you were filing, stubbornness leaking through your voice.

“If there is a war coming, I want to be home as much as I can. I’m finishing my last semester and I’ll be here before and after classes. You can’t stop me, dad.”

And he knows that too.

There is no such thing as leaving Camp Half-Blood for you.

Never for too long. Your love for it is scattered everywhere campers can see.

—

In all these years, you never believed I loved you. And I did. I did so much. I did love you. I even loved your hate and your hardness. - Tennessee Williams

[jyoongim]

I'm sorry to add to your likely ever growing list of requests but may I pitch an idea:

Alastor absolutely head over heals for a married reader, but since his mama raised him right he'd never make a real move. He's sure he can show you he's sooo much better anyway, and you'd leave your husband for him eventually.

BUT then his rut hits and the chivalry goes out the window no matter how hard he tries to stay sane and he just NEEDS reader right NOW, wedding ring be damned.

Title: UNWILLINGLY YOURS❤️‍🔥

Part 2!

warning: Reader is married! Non-con sex (I DIDNT EVEN KNOW I COULD WRITE THIS????) possessive, jealous, obsessive behaviors, one-sided pining, breeding kink/impregnantion, Al is a homewrecker!!!, husband is a sweet bean!, rough sex, creampie, marriage guilt

Let me know if I’m missing something!!

———————————————————————

You were a constant face in Cannibal Town. You often helped Rosie at her Emporium, helping her sell her goodies, have a good chat, and help those who come to see the female Overlord.

You could often be found in an apron splattered in blood with a sharp grin on your face.

Alastor found you adoring. He thought you were the sweetest thing that ever graced Hell.

So imagine the way his shadow simmered when he saw a wedding ring shining on your finger…

The Overlord’s eyes narrowed when he saw your husband would come in, greeting Rosie and before the sinner could locate you, you were chirping happily as you jumped into his arms, dragging the man to taste what you had been cooking.

He knew it wasn’t right.

To lust after a taken woman.

But seven hells were you beautiful.

You considered Alastor a friend. You were oblivious to his flirting and often thought he was just teasing.

He was a well-mannered demon and the two of you had a lot in common.

He deemed himself the better man.

Your husband was average. Alastor couldnt understand why you married him.

You needed someone strong and powerful. 

Someone who would worship the ground you walked on.

Someone who would worship you like you deserved.

You deserved to be spoiled, having things at your disposal at just a glance.

Alastor could give you all of those things if you just said the word.

If you would just leave your husband…..the world could be yours.

But all the gifts, flowers, and dates didnt seem to get through your head.

You kindly reminded the deer that you were married and you adored your spouse, but you gave him your appreciation in his efforts.

So like a gentleman, Alastor backed down. If you truly loved your husband than who was he to mess up a happy home?

But that desire to have you all to himself never went away.

You suited Alastor.

Your manners,personality, interests…

You were his perfect standard.

But you were already someone else’s.

But Alastor could wait…

————————————————————————

“Rosie I haven’t seen Alastor around, he hasn’t fall ill has he?” You asked the tall woman worriedly.

Rosie waved a dismissive hand “Oh he’s fine dear. he always goes into hiding every now and again. Probably just busy at that hotel of his”

You tugged your lips, the treat you had been making was one of the red demon’s favorite.

Maybe you should go and check on him?

After all…He was your friend.

”Im gonna take him some treats. I just want to check up on him.”

You knocked on the double doors of the hotel and waited.

You knocked again.

You heard some shuffling and then the door opened.

”What are you doing this way darlin?” 

You smiled softly seeing Alastor, holding up the goodies

”Hadn’t seen you in a while and was just worried that’s all. I was making these and know how much you love em”

The overlord let you in and you took in the hotel lobby.

It certainly had character.

You noticed Alastor hadn’t moved from the door and instead was staring at you. You tilted your head “You look like you wanna eat me Al” You wiggled your tail at him, smirking playfully

“But I doubt ill taste as good as these goodies I worked so hard on”

That seemed to snap him out of it as he cleared his throat, he escorted you to the radio tower.

Alastor was losing it.

His rut had came sooner than he anticipated and he has locked himself away until he had control over himself.

All he could think about was you.

And how you would look covered in his cum.

Covered? No that would be a waste…but if you were filled that was a different story.

Everyone had went out on some activity Charlie had planned so Alastor was holding the fort.

He had been stroking his cock, fisting the raging organ until it was pulsing and leaking. He had been thinking of you, the object of his affections and desires.

On your knees and begging to suck him.

He could feel an orgasm readying to erupt when a knock at the door interrupted his fantasy.

He growled and stomped to the front door when a familiar scent caught his nose.

You.

You were here.

Making sure he was okay.

You had been worried about him and even made him a snack.

Oh what a sweet thing you were.

If only you were his wife.

Alastor let you in, eyes raking over your figure as you looked around the hotel.

Eyes settling on the sway of your hips, before he heard your voice breakthrough the fog of desire.

”You look like you wanna eat me” you giggled.

 You were being playful. 

He knew that. 

But when you wiggled your backside, flickering your tail that set him off.

He was on you faster than you could blink, hands settling on your plush hips. His lips skimmed your ear “You would be even sweeter than these treats you’ve made.”

You shivered, trying to shrug him off “You’re just saying that”

Alastor chuckled as he nuzzled you, teeth nipping at your shoulder

”Oh I’d never lie about you darlin”

Your cheeks flushed and you went to move away from him when he pressed his hips against yours.

”A-Al?”

He growled against your ear, arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you into him.

”You dont understand the effect you have on me my dear. It is taking everything in me to not have my way with you” 

You tried to jerk away from him, but he held fast, a soft frown showing on your face.

”Alastor… t-this i-is inappropriate Im..you know I’m married”

The second the word slipped from your lips Alastor let out a feral growl, twirling you around to face him.

His eyes were black and pupils narrowed as he bared his teeth at you.

”That is irrelevant to me dear. You think I care of your bond to that pathetic excuse of a man?”

You went to hiss at him. 

Bared your fangs and defended your marriage.

But Alastor found your anger to be his tipping point as he slammed his lips onto yours, catching you off guard.

Your eyes widened and you gasped subconsciously, making the red demon lean into you, swallowing the soft protests and whines you let out.

”A-Alastor..N-No I can’t…” you pulled away pushing against him, but the male didnt let you get away.

He sought after your lips, wanting to have his tongue down your throat. Sweet poisoned words spilled from his lips as he pressed you into his chest. 

“You’ll have to indulge me my dear. Youve been plaguing my mind for a while now and while I despise your husband, I respected you to give you space…”

A large hand wrapped around your neck, tightening. He tilted his head at you “However…you have approached me while I’m in season and reason have been slipping.”

In season? Your head was reeling. The fuck was he talking about… Oh!

Alastor had deer features… he…he was…

”What will your dear husband think when I send you back to him filled with my cum?” Alastor purred snapping you out of your thoughts.

You blinked, taking a step back, but he followed you.

You were pressed into a wall before you melted into the wall and found your back on a soft surface.

Alastor was on top of you, claws digging in your clothing; a rip met your ears and the cool air had you covering yourself.

“Alastor!” You yelped. The red demon grabbed at your hands, revealing your bare body to him.

Skin smooth like butter and free of marks. Your ample breasts were full and round, rising and falling with your rapid breathing.

His large hands kneaded the mounds, pinching and tweaking the soft peaks. His eyes roamed your soft stomach that was littered in stretch marks and slightly rounded, filtering into wide hips.

Satan you would look lovely carry his spawns.

“Al please! Let me go. I-Ill forget all about this incident and we can just pretend it never happened.” You placed your hands over his to slowly move them off your chest, he didnt protest.

 You knew Alastor. 

He wouldnt hurt you

His brain was just all twisted from hormones, he'll gain some sense.

Your breath caught when he pressed his nose against your heat.

Your thighs vibrated as a purr radiated through his chest.

”Such a sweet cunt” he mused, inhaling your scent.

“A-Al dont…i-I’m…I’m pregnant” you pleaded, trying to close your legs around his head and softly pushing him away from your intimate region.

Alastor stiffened at your words.

His eyes snapped to yours and then to your stomach.

Anger boiled inside him.

Pregnant? How dare someone-

“I-I wont tell my husband. We can just pretend this didnt happen. Just stop now and ill go” you tried to reason with the demon.

His eyes narrowed as a vicious growl ripped through his throat

Your husband…that’s right you weren’t his. You were married.

But he could fix that problem.

Alastor’s cock twitched at the thought.

”Oooh my dear that’s alright” he grinned up at you as he teased your slit. He lowered his head back between your legs

”Afterall…I would love to see you carrying my fawns”

Your eyes widened and before you could question him, Alastor sucked your clit into his mouth.

A ragged cry tore from your lips as the red demon lapped at your cunt. ”A-Al-lastor!”

Alastor swallowed the nectar that began to flow. 

You tasted better than he imagined.

Sweeter than honey.

He groaned as he pushed his tongue into your velvet walls, twirling and swirling to lap every drop your cunt produced.

You were trying to wiggle your hips away from him, but Alastor held your hips steady, nipping at your clit in warning.

Oh your husband had no idea of the treasure he had Alastor thought flicking your clit with his tongue. 

Such a perfect cunt.

Your soft groans of protests were music to his ears.

Suck. Lick. Flick. Repeat

Alastor tortured your poor puffy clit until your hips shuddered and rolling against his tongue. He moaned latching onto your cunt as you cried out, your nectar exploding into his mouth.

You panted as your heart thumped in your chest, feeling your body buzz as you floated.You took a deep breath maybe this was enough. Maybe he would let you go home.

You felt his kiss around your inner thighs and lick one final stripe up your slit, before moving his head from between your thighs.

Hes satisfied now…go-good…now to-

A heavy weight slapped against your thigh making you tense as you looked up at Alastor with horror in your eyes.

Tears welled in your eyes as a sob bubbled in your throat “N-no…no no no no no no!” Alastor’s hands cupped your cheeks as he tried to comfort your pleas, using his knees to widen your thighs.

”Its okay darling” he licked your wet cheek “You were such a good girl for me such a good girl” you felt him pepper your face in soft kisses. You pushed at his broad chest, hands pushing at anything you could shove, you shook your head in denial as he trapped you underneath him “Im pregnant! Y-You can’t! Please dont” You sobbed.

Alastor hissed, that jealous feeling rearing  “yeesss pregnant your husband must be so happy” you gasped as he pushed both your thighs to your chest, keeping them spread to expose your cunt and no pressure on your soft bump.

His cock stroked your cunt, angry red tip leaking as he rubbed against you.

“Your husband dont deserve you. You should be with a man who is feared and respected. Will worship you and the ground you walk…” He purred when his mushroom tip caught your clit

“Who can bring you to the peak of pleasure easily” 

Using his weight to hold your legs, he wiped the tears that streaked down your face, before slipping a hand between you.

“Al…N-no! AH!” The cry didnt even fully leave your lips when Alastor slotted his lips on yours as his hips slammed against yours, cock breaching your gummy walls, stretching.

Alastor’s antlers grew when he felt your cunt squeeze around him, he pulled his hips back and pushed back in, groaning into your mouth when your walls gave way to him.

He chuckled against your lips.

Oh you were divine…

No way was he letting you go…

————————————————————————

“Oh that’s my good girl yeeesss I knew you’ll be good for me”

Alastor rasped as he sucked a nipple into his mouth, hips ramming into yours.

You couldnt even acknowledge his praise as he fucked you.

You felt numb.

dirty.

You had broken your wedding vows to your husband.

”You take my cock so well, knew you would. Such a sweet cunt.”

Alastor fucked your pussy like it was his.

Your body covered in love bites, sweat, and cum.

so much cum.

Alastor had emptied rope after rope of creamy cum inside you, filling you up til it pooled under your ass.

“You’ll look so pretty carrying my spawns doll. You take my cum well…fuck! Baby that’s right milk this cock take my cum take it fuck!”

Your back arched and a soft mewl left your lips.

He let out a low hiss as he slotted his hips against yours, cock twitching as your cunt fluttered and clenched around him, releasing another load of cum inside your womb.

Your thighs shook as he thrusted against you softly.

Alastor whispered sweet praises and affections against your skin.

”you take me so well”

”sweet cunt and its all mine”

He pulled out of you with a wet pop and yours flopped, a steady stream of cream dripping from your abused hole.

He licked from your neck to your hair, purring 

”that’s my girl”

Your body finally had enough and your vision went dark.

—————————————————————————————

“Honey you had me so worried! Thanks for bringing her home Alastor” your husband said appreciatively to the red demon, who smiled at the man. Your husband kissed your cheek as you walked through the door, he looked you over “Why dont you head to bed hmmm? You seem tired”

Alastor smiled wickedly “Yes do get your rest dear. Wouldnt want to faint again”

Your husband thanked the Overlord for bringing you home and as you turned to head upstairs, you heard him say to your husband

”Congratulations to you both by the way. Shell make a fine mother” you paused slightly before heading continuing up the stairs. Your husband laughed and thanked him again.

But before the door closed, Alastor watched as your husband ran behind you, you offered him a small smile that didnt meet your lips. As the man pulled you into a kiss, not seeing the tear that ran down your cheek. Your husband tried to palm your ass, but you quickly grabbed his hand.

His eyes followed the two of you going upstairs.

Alastor smirked watching a stream of cum run down your leg.

Yes congratulations indeed.

——————————————————————————

Part 2 is linked and posted!

[mattiewrotethis]

once again wrote this half asleep so i apologize for any errors.

this kinda rambles on so forgive me it’s just word vomit really

simon riley, reader || angst

he felt violently ill. dizzy, nauseated, achy, like he was turning into ash from the inside out. 

all because he saw your engagement photos. 

simon never went onto any social medias. it’d make him too easy to find, to easy to target, to easy to turn anyone close to him into a victim. but he had a burner account on facebook. one he’d log onto once every couple of months to make himself hurt more after your breakup. 

the fight that still make him flinch, remembering the look in your eyes when he raised his voice. when you yelled back. when you screamed that you were leaving, that it was over. you were crying that day. he punched a hole in the wall. 

that hole was still there, a cruel reminder of what he never should’ve done. a sort of punishment for himself. 

the facebook account was for that, too. he watched you cycle through life, watched you get better. watched you glow. move on. find someone else, unfortunately. for three years, he watched silently, in the back corner of where you posted in confidence. the things you shared in complete obliviousness of his presence. 

the facebook account was for punishment. 

so was the engagement ring he kept tucked away in the bedside drawer that was once yours, in its little velvet box. he’d spin the ring between his fingers, staring at the diamond glimmering in the moonlight when his legs were tangled in his bedsheets. 

the ring you wore in the photos was so much different from the one he had gotten you. the one you’d picked out together when you knew the two of you were it for each other. fitted to the size of your finger he knew off the top of his head, remembering the nights he’d measure with a straw wrapper or a folded up receipt when you slept peacefully by his side, and he’d lie awake, just watching you. your beautiful face. the rise and fall of your chest with every breath. your hair splayed out on the pillow. all his. 

the gem on your new one was gaudy, showy. the band yellow gold unlike the rose gold you loved so much when you and simon were together. people change, he supposed. it all screamed wealth. at least you were marrying well, this man could give you everything simon couldn’t. money, time, devotion. 

oh, god, no. simon was devoted to you. praise and worship from every passionate night to the mornings with faces puffy from sleep, and afternoons lying in bed with the flu. you were always beautiful. always perfect. how could he let you slip away so easily? why did he throw it all away, when he had everything he needed right in front of him?

your pictures came out beautifully. your best friend, a photographer, took them for you. you’d constantly boasted about her work and said you wanted her to take yours and simon’s engagement photos. a dimmer setting, evening, maybe. the outfits you’d wear would glow and stand out, your ring would reflect the setting sun. your lips would be on his, photographed and sealed for eternity. he’d keep one of them, put it in his helmet or sew it into his jacket. and eventually replace it with you in a wedding dress, then you pregnant with your child, then you holding your baby, your face and his eyes. he’d kiss it, run his thumb over it until it faded. he’d let himself cry over it, how much he missed you while away on ops.

he never thought he’d be crying over how much he missed you, after losing you. after everything he’d seen with you, each picture he painted with your hand guiding his brush, melted away like wax under the desert sun. slipped through his fingers like sand as he grasped at the droplets. golden, molding into the ring glittering in your posed hand, frozen in time. 

he never though he’d find himself curled up on the bathroom floor, hand bitten between his teeth to stifle the sobs echoing in the small space. occasionally glancing at his laptop screen beside him, opened on your smiling face as you cradled the face of a man who would never be him. he never thought he could feel pain this intense. this horrific. this raw. 

when it’s over, he feels numb. scraped bare of anything. he’s closed his laptop, and is leaned against the tub, sniffling and staring at the white plastic of the shower wall until it starts to spin. until his vision starts to blur with sleep. only then does he get up and saunter into bed. 

simon riley has always been a selfish man. you let him know that, during the fight that ended things. he was selfish of himself, his career, unwilling to sacrifice more than what he was accustomed to in order to live the life you both had promised each other. he didn’t want to be selfish anymore, but he considered it that night. considered reaching out, contacting you after all these years to congratulate you and risk everything you’d gained, in the slim hope that you’d fall back into his arms. he didn’t want that. he only ever wanted you to be happy. 

and if being out of his life is the only thing that will make you happy, he wouldn’t ruin it out of his own misery. 

people change, he supposes. he wants at least one change after the breakup to be positive for himself. forgo the lack of sleep, the shit he’d begun to eat, the drinking and smoking.

he doesn’t want to be selfish anymore. 

he doesn’t want to be selfish anymore. 

[gamblersdoll]

𝐃𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐘 𝐌𝐎𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐒?

ghostface! todoroki who plays out your sick fantasy.

mask kink, p in v, finger sucking, nipple sucking, fear tactic.

“are you sure you want to do this?” todoroki questions, a stoic but somewhat worry on his face. “what if something goes left and i hurt you?”

“you wont hurt me, baby.”

“what if you forget that we are doing something like this and you freak out?” he presses, fidgeting with his fingertips and avoiding eye contact.

“baby, if youre worried so much we dont have to do this.” you remind, kissing his cheek and a small smile. “i wont force you to do anything you dont want to do.”

“yeah, but i wanna make you happy, thats what im supposed to do.” he sighs,rolling his eyes at himself.

“and you are either way it goes.” you scratch his head, a soft groan from his throat as you dig your nails into him. “ill be happy and love you either way this goes.”

“okay,” he nods, tilting your head up and kissing your lips. “gotta go to the store for dinner, feeling like soba tonight.” he says, standing up and holding you for a minute. “love you.”

“i love you too.”

you eventually hear the downstairs front door close and lock, sleep taking over your body and you fluttering your eyes shut into a resting place and feeling your body start to drift away.

but, maybe an hour later, something does wake you up. a sound of something ruffling around, could be birds in the attic or maybe another fucking squirrel got into the dryer again. but, your sleepy brain not working right, you pull yourself out of bed and look at the time.

‘ten forty three.’

shoto isnt home yet?

walking downstairs, you turn the dryer light on, there wasnt any chipmunks or squirrels in there. and yet, you still hear noise from somewhere.

‘click!— front door open.’

your heart races a bit, looking over to the door to see what apparently is a man in all black, with a ghostface mask and he just stands there. you chuckle, rolling your eyes. “okay, shoto, you actually want to do this?”

no movement, just the man you think is your todoroki standing in place.

“helloooo?” you snap your fingers in his face, still no movements from the masked man, but scoff and fold your arms. “shoto, again if you dont want to do this—“

finally, the man who wasnt speaking, pulls out a small amount of rope. which was weird, todoroki doesnt really like ropes,being the fact it’s easy to get rope burn. you feel the hairs on the back of your neck raise, your overthinking starting to save you. “are you not todoroki..?”

he shakes his head no, putting up five fingers.. and your legs do all the running on their own. he wasnt chasing you, no. but it still is fucking creepy.

that damn boy probably left the door unlocked!

you lock the door to the bedroom, scrambling to find your phone. you unlock it, dialing the number to his phone, and it picks up.

“todoroki— someone broke into—“

“no todoroki shoto here, little girl.” the other line says, making your heart drop and tremble within fear of somebody, something hurt him and was doing the same with you. “do you like scary movies?”

oh, thats how this fuck wants to do things? textbook definition?

you swallow thick, feeling rage and yet fear within your bones. “adore them.” you spit, peering out the window curtains.

“okay, lets play a little game then.”

“whats the name of that one big killer in silent hill?” the line asks, waiting on your response.

“pyramid head.” you confidently reply, getting a satisfactory chuckle. “if youre going to kill me, give me better questions so it means something.”

“ohh, youre so mean, what about your poor shoto?” he asks, a coo behind his words. “if you get all of them right, ill tell you where he is.”

you chew on your nails, anxiety pulling over you. you grunt, an approval of his mind games with you. “okay then, who was the first killer in scream?”

that almost threw you off, but you knew who it was. “there wasnt just one killer for that first girl.. casey was her name.”

“oh? mind to share with me and shoto?” he asks, you have to hold your tongue to try and not sacrifice his life on accident.

“billy called the girls phone, stu killed the boyfriend, billy killed the girl.” you say, knowing that you’re right about all of it, it was simple really.

“oh, what makes you so sure? how can you tell?” he asks again, curiously trying to see if you would second guess yourself. anyone would, especially in the scream movies. but you werent stupid, you watched enough of those movies to realize that mistake.

“billy was more fueled by rage and revenge, causing his movements to act erratically, stu was just there with him.”

“bingo! next question..” he cheers, a pause in the line. “in the paranormal realm, was it the conjuring that goes first, or annabelle?”

“annabelle, then conjuring.” you say, hearing a dissatisfied voice. “what?”

“are you sure about that? thats what you want to go with?” he asks, was this his trick again or were you wrong..?

“thats how they go, it wouldnt make sense if they were reversed.” you shout, hearing a small chuckle.

“you lose.” he says, the line ending and hands grab at your shoulders, a scream coming from your throat as you thrash and writhe in his hands.

he kneels down on your forearms, wrapping the rope around your body and hands as you still struggle. he was bigger than you, your legs and knees only able to kick air and some small parts of his back. you try to pry your way out of the rope’s confines, his hands starting to paw and push up at your clothes and your heart drops.

is this how it’s supposed to be? your boyfriend supposedly dead and you get the short end of the stick?

you look away, not bothering to watch yourself be ruthlessly taken by a masked killer who just happens to also be a fucking creep. you feel his hands on your body, warm but cold hands on your stomach.

warm and cold ?

his lips attach to your nipple, you jumping from the temperatures in his mouth. he mustve eaten something cold or something. or, maybe he had taken some kind of medication that makes him cold?

he swirls his tongue, his breath being pushed onto your skin, and the temperature of his breath is colder—

fucking todoroki, its been him this whole time.

your nerves relax all the way, getting the best confirmation of your lover being the one who has you in his reigns, his mouth on your nipple, and the one who is pulling his cock from his pants.

you wouldve thought it was someone else, since he shaved his shit apparently. he hears you chuckle, looking up at you. you try to bite back another, just imagining a ghostface mask staring up at you while positioning themselves against you— meanwhile knowing their identity.

“please dont kill me mr. ghostface, i wanna be in the sequel.” you feign fear, feeling his hands push you into the ground deeper and feeling his cock slip in, moaning about it. your clit jumps for a second, twitching from the cut pubes prickling against it for only seconds at a time.

the masked man kneels, pulling your body back and forth along his length as he hears your yelps and moans, them being elongated. the mans’ gloved fingers find their way into your mouth, you sticking your tongue out as he thrusts his fingers down and out your throat. his glove gets wet, soaked with your spit and you gag slightly when he has you throat his fingers.

his pace gets meaner, too honestly. his hips smacking against your rear and his other hand holds the ropes on your back, steadying himself and you. deep breathing can be heard through the mask, sometimes feeling the air become a little warmer but then colder. wet squelching and slaps of skin reverberated through the room, some of your hair becoming disheveled and ass becoming sore and red.

your moans becoming whiny, a light drenching of your essence and creamy rings along his cock as you curl your toes, “fuck—hah!”

the masked man breathes deeper as well, his hips slowing down as he stills inside of you. you feel his own ejaculation inside of you, making your folds slicker than any lubricant ever. the masked man lays you down, untying your restraints and pulling his mask off.

tuffs of red and white hair show themselves, and a worried shoto. “are.. are you okay—“

you bonk the top of his head, hearing a ‘ow’ after that. “what the hell, todoroki!” you squeal, shaking his arms. “what kind of idea was that?!”

“well.. you said that you wanted to try something new..” he says, his own hands on your shoulders shaking them.

“i know that much— but you scared the fuck outta me!”

“sorry.. how did you figure out it was me?” he asks, confused and worried eyes that stare and burn into yours. “was it that noticeable?”

“your palms are two different temperatures, and your mouth was cold.” you point out, pulling your shirt down and rubbing your wrists. “i almost didnt, because of the rope and the phone call— hold the fuck on, who answered the phone then?”

“uh.. midoriya?”

a knock comes to your front door, its about eleven twenty four at night. especially after tonight, todoroki walks you to the door, just in case you were still worried about anything. you weren’t worried in the slightest.

you unlock and open the door, green patches of hair the first thing you see. “uhm— hi there.” he says, the freckled boy rubbing the back of his head and a nervous chuckle.

“hi there, ghostface.” you say, both men tensing up and you fold your arms.

“well!—“ he starts, nervous and scrambling for an answer. “in my defense! todoroki cane to me about it and i wasnt trying to scare you too bad! i hope i didnt..”

“both of you did, so both of you can get beat up.” you say, watching izuku hand todoroki’s phone back. “but.. i guess i give credit when its due.”

“i hope i didnt cause any trouble..”

“you didnt, but its getting late.” you remind, the three of you saying goodbyes and a thought comes to you. you turn to tell izuku, “izu!”

he turns back and responds with a distant ‘yeah?’ wide eyes and a smile.

“annabelle comes before the conjuring, take more notes!”

[domiiomii]

It is interesting to me how we don't actually see much of Viktor's life in Zaun besides his interaction with Singed but it is clearly something he carries deeply with him. One could think maybe Viktor hated Zaun, he seemed to isolate from other kids, or think he felt resentment that because of his birthplace he became ill, however none of that seems to be true because from the start he was always pushing to make the hextech available to the people of the undercity and when he gets his own power his first instinct is exactly that, to go back home and help those who have been ignored, who need it the most, who are just like him.

Perhaps it is not so much about growing up in Zaun but rather that Piltover made sure that he knew he didn't belong there. He knows he is an outsider, in every way, he says it when he meets Jayce and describes himself as a "A poor cripple from the undercity", which is very peculiar because we don't see anybody else in the series, despite the multiple characters from Zaun who are disabled, speak like that or seem to have those thoughts because disability is such a commonality there.

Viktor's "insecurities" if you want to call them that don't come out of thin air but out of the way he was clearly treated in piltover, him not wanting to speak publicly during Progress Day is sad sure, but it is not just because he saw his existence as "less than", but because he clearly was reminded of it constantly. It is not that he lacked the confidence, he clearly believes in himself, he knows his abilities, but he also KNOWS he won't be taken seriously, either because he is from the undercity or because he is disabled.

This very point is made clear through the scene with Mel when she argues for making hextech weapons, it is such a harsh reality check of Viktor's place in piltover. Viktor's voice doesn't matter at all to those in power, no matter how brilliant he is, no matter how much he has changed their lives. Mel doesn't even look at Viktor, she doesn't talk to him directly, Viktor is talked over by Mel and Jayce who are again literally standing over him while he sits down, the whole scene has the two of them having a conversation with Viktor in the room but ignoring him. Mel doesn't even try to argue her point with Viktor because to her Viktor's thoughts and opinions don't matter at all. In the end she tells Jayce and Jayce only "The decision is yours".

Another particular point is how she tells Jayce only "The peace is already broken Jayce, I'm only asking you to prepare to defend your people." YOUR PEOPLE meaning piltover and again all this being said right in front of Viktor an outsider, a man from the undercity, discussing how they will use the technology he helped developed against HIS OWN PEOPLE, people just like him. Very important detail here is that right after this interaction Viktor goes to the undercity and asks Singed for help after he realizes piltover will never help him, he goes back for help the only place he can get it because despite how much Piltover has benefited from Viktor's mind, he is never welcomed and his thoughts on what his work should be used for are not heard at all, everything of value is taken from him then he is left to die.

It is very funny how Piltover is regarded as this "beacon of progress" when you see how they treat their own population of the undercity where they don't even see them as equal citizens. This very point reflects in how Jayce is able to climb the social ladder while Viktor is always relegated and eventually even his name is scrapped from the technology he helped develop, he is a stranger in his own "city".

Talking about Jayce is also worth mentioning that, aside from Sky (also from the undercity), Jayce is the only person in piltover we see who cares about Viktor and the point is not lost on me that he comes from a lower much smaller house (not that his relationship with Jayce is perfect don't get me started on the "You were never broken Viktor" thing, that is a post of it's own). The relation of Viktor to the other elites of piltover we see is just bleak, Mel as established completely disregards him and even when he is at death's door I don't think she cared about him, she cared that Jayce cared about Viktor.

And then the worst of all, Heimerdinger who by all means should have been Vitkor's first ally as his professor is actually so quick to dispose of him and without a second thought and tell Viktor to destroy the technology that could very well be the only possibility to save him. The difference in how Himmerdinger acts with Ekko and Viktor is night and day, he denies Viktor any help to figure out how to save him while he "sacrifices" himself for Ekko's time machine. Now, how is a time machine not as dangerous as magic? I don't understand but this makes sense in the context that Viktor's life as a disabled person from the undercity seems to be established to be of less value.

For better or for worse piltover made sure that Viktor never forgot where he came from so him returning and helping the people who would never get help otherwise, people just like him, was the only path he could really follow.

On a personal note I find it so sad that the very clear class divide line in the plot was flatten in favor of “This is not about ideologies or territory, this is about saving humanity” when the very reason Viktor even became what he became and took the choices he did to what he thought was the best to save as many of the people like him as possible IS because of that class divide and it is because of the way piltover treated the undercity because of the pollution that made him sick and because of the the way piltover ignored the situation of the people they harmed.

[throneofsapphics]

Manorian or rowaelin whichever couple you want x reader

Reader ghosts everyone because she’s depressed and doesn’t know how to communicate with her loved ones about it 🫠

a despair so dark light will not reach

Rowaelin x f!Reader

Summary: Rowan and Aelin notice you slipping away from them, and struggle to figuring out how to bring you back

Warnings: depression, negative self talk

Word Count: 1306

A/N: thank you for the request!

“I’m fine,” you insisted, turning back to your book. It was interesting, it was different, it wasn’t this, it wasn’t reality. In between these pages, you could escape to another universe where your problems and realities didn’t exist. 

Aelin sighed, she’d been attempting to get you to talk about what ‘was happening.’ There was nothing. It was nothing. You are nothing, a voice, eerily like your own, said in the back of your mind. 

That’s the truth of the matter, wasn’t it? You didn’t matter. Nothing fucking did. How would you explain that to the two people who love you more than anything else in the world? How the weight on your chest felt so heavy you couldn’t breathe but at the same time you existed in a state of nothingness where not even the brightest light could reach? You’d battled it since childhood, and although you hadn’t lost yet, there was still so much you missed every day. It doesn’t matter, you reminded yourself, I don’t care. 

“Please,” Aelin caught your attention with a gentle hand on your knee. Eyes blinking back into focus, she was ... Aelin was pleading on her knees with you, her hands squeezing each of your knees. “Tell me where you go when you do that. Let me in.” 

When you do what? Space out, you supposed. Pressing your lips tightly together, you debated. The hope in Aelin’s eyes at your pause broke part of you. You couldn’t do it to someone you loved, couldn’t let them in and get a taste of that all consuming despair that threatened to invade and poison all of your surroundings. Just on your own, you felt like the last block of a crumbling barricade against the rushing tide. Eventually, it would overflow but for now you’d do your best to hold it back. 

“Let us in,” Rowan knelt behind her, his own arm reaching over to brush against your shoulder. “Please,” he repeated her word. 

You turned your head away, “I said it’s nothing,” the phrasing had a tad more bite than you intended. They didn’t deserve to be saddled with your inconsequential issues, no matter how much they asked for it. You could handle it on your own, you’d been handling it for years. 

Are you really, thought? The voice said. 

“Then come to breakfast with us. I’ll make sure your favorites are there,” Aelin tried, her voice shaking slightly. You thought you heard her tears. You didn’t look. Couldn’t look. 

“Alright,” you whispered, a soft agreement, knowing you had to give them something or they wouldn’t leave you to your own devices. 

“Alright,” Aelin breathed as if it was a sacred vow, and you hated the relief in her voice. 

It started with the small things. It always did. One missed dinner, nobody remarked on it. Two missed dinners, nobody batted an eye. Three, inquiries about your absence. Four, someone went to look for you. 

Aelin found you sleeping, decided not to disturb you, and made excuses for your absence, that you were ill, not feeling well, overworked. 

It went on like this for months, them making excuses for why you never showed up to meals anymore. 

You never needed an excuse for work, no you were high functioning, and always took care to show up to any mandatory obligations that could have negative professional consequences. 

You thought you had it under control. Really, you were spiraling so far down into a dark place it would take the hottest sun to drag you out of it.

The next morning, you couldn’t get off the couch. They didn’t ‘wake’ you - you were a master at faking sleep - when they snuck past to go to training, maybe they should have. That invisible weight pushed you back two inches for each inch you moved forward, and eventually you gave up. When they came to get you, you feigned sleep. 

It was impossible to hide your insomnia from them, and you knew they wouldn’t interrupt what precious sleep you could get. Often they’d wake to find you asleep in strange places throughout the room, despite starting out in the bed with them. 

That afternoon, Rowan brought a healer. 

“Just figure out what’s wrong,” he said.

‘Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.’ the word echoed like a horrible melody in your mind. 

The healer took your vitals, asked how often you ate, exercised, went outside, how your mood was, if you felt depressed, and a thousand other questions you answered in a monotone voice. 

Maybe you should’ve been honest, but you didn’t want to worry anyone unnecessarily and with Rowan hovering in the corner, you felt you couldn’t really tell them. 

“Your Highness, could you please step out of the room?” The healer asked pleasantly, patting you on the knee. She was older, you could tell even with the Fae’s gift of eternal youth. Slight lines showed in her forehead and around the corners of her eyes. Signs of a happy life. 

Rowan, begrudgingly, left after you mouthed it was fine. 

“Now dearie,” for some reason her voice was soothing rather than irritating, usually you didn’t like names like that, “you can answer my questions honestly. Anything you say won’t go back to them, it’ll stay right between us and we’ll figure it out together.” 

You looked at her, really looked at her and studied her expression. Unwavering. She didn’t flinch at your unabashed stare, didn’t turn away, didn’t so much as twitch. Like she’d been doing this and dealing with these types of situations for centuries. It gave you some hope. 

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” 

“Here’s a start, perhaps there’s nothing wrong with you, just different,” her eyes lightened slightly. Perhaps she felt the weight of an order from her King. Or she genuinely wanted to help you. You didn’t know which thought was you and which was the darkness living inside of you. 

The conversation felt like a steady push and pull, a battle of wills between you and the healer. At the end, the two of you came up with a plan. One small change. Get outside at least once a day, no matter the time of day or if it was just strolling onto your balcony. 

The healer, Elka, was trained as a mind healer too. You felt slightly tricked when she revealed that at the end. 

The people who loved you most thought you were insane. But you supposed the normal healers hadn’t turned up anything and you couldn’t blame them for trying, it was something you would do after all. 

Despite your high hopes after the first session, progress was slow and you felt yourself almost worsening. 

You learned how to portray to the world that you felt alright, but in private ...

The last thing you wanted was to wake them, especially when they had busy and important things to do in the morning. In other words, the last thing you wanted was to burden them. You made your way to the old rooms you used back when you first moved into the castle, and shook the dust off one of the pillows. 

Sliding under the soft slightly stagnant comforter, you curled on your side and hugged your knees to your chest. 

For the first time in months, the true weight of your self-imposed isolation crashed down on you and you tasted the salt of a tear hitting your upper lip. 

You were woken before six in the morning to a slightly angry Fae storming into your room. 

“This is where I draw the line,” he pulled back the comforter and shifted you into his arms, bridal style. “You can sleep in our fucking bathtub if you can fall asleep there,” he pressed a surprisingly gentle kiss to your forehead, “but I’ll be damned if you sleep in another room again.” 

-

general taglist: @rowaelinsdaughter @bookishbroadwaybish @nestaismommy @erencvlt @panther-girl-124

throne of glass taglist: @i-am-a-lost-girl16

[ckret2]

inspired by ur aku flower post - how would aku react to someone getting flowers for him? random/scara/jack whoever u choose to answer for

lmao absolute worst character for anybody to end up in a "love me back or I'll die" situation with

for anyone who missed it, we're talking about this post and the hanahaki disease trope ("if you fall in love and [it's unrequited] OR [you keep it secret], you start coughing up flowers [until they love you back] OR [until you tell them]." I prefer the "keep it secret" version).

This is gonna get a lot of different answer variations.

We're going with vanilla hanahaki, not the "if you're evil falling in love AT ALL gives you hanahaki" one I made up in the prior post, that strain is Aku exclusive.

if it's Jack and if it's the unrequited hanahaki strain—

my first instinct is, if Aku found out that Jack was incredibly ill because he'd fallen in love with him and would eventually die if Aku didn't return the sentiment? He would be like LMAOOO FUNNIEST WAY FOR YOU TO GO BUT AT LEAST YOU'RE GOING. He'd start popping up to taunt Jack at random like "oh samuraaaiii〜♡ do you want some of thiiis〜? 😘 WELL TOO BAD BECAUSE YOU'RE NOT GETTING ANY! HAAA HA HA DIE FASTER."

On the other hand: there's a problem with that. why in hell's name would Jack fall in love with Aku. Jack hates him, for good reason, because Aku is literally the worst. Aku's not offering Jack aaanything to fall in love with. so in order for this scenario to happen, Aku would already have to be, like, 95% less evil. Aku's gotta be made a good guy here, whether via divine intervention or implausible redemption arc or amnesia or AU, whatever. Choose your own adventure. THE POINT IS: before Jack can fall in love with Aku, first Aku has to be, like, not a global tyrant, and also nice to Jack sometimes.

Which means in order for Jack to start hacking hana, Aku would need to not have the kind of relation with Jack where his first reaction is "then perish." We'll go out on a limb and assume maybe he likes and/or cares about Jack to some extent. We're assuming this isn't a jaku endgame scenario (because if Aku reciprocates, then like,, Jack wouldn't be sick from unrequited love, would he), and even a good Aku isn't gonna be the type to go "if you're dying for love of me then I shall selflessly try to love you back," so his first reaction is probably, "Well... stop it. Find someone else. Maybe someone your height."

After he finishes laughing at Jack. I feel like laughing at Jack would be a constant.

On the OTHER other hand: maybe it wasn't "Aku" that Jack fell in love with, but Ikra or Jill or some other Aku hot babe disguise. And if THAT'S what happened, we could still get the "try to kill Jack faster" route. Heck, it's possible getting Jack to fall in love and then killing him via heartbreak was his plan. Make him fall in love with someone who could never reciprocate because she isn't even real, then mock him with reminders of her everywhere he goes.

I'm typically not a fan of the "unrequited" hanahaki strain because i prefer it to be a disease you do to yourself, not something someone else does to you by not reciprocating. That makes it seem like the other person is a murderous bad guy if they don't return the victim's feelings.

But like, if the other person IS a murderous bad guy, doing it ON PURPOSE, that could be fun.

... fic where aku disguises himself and travels with jack for like a year, gets reeeally close with him, to trick him into falling in love so he'll die of heartbreak, but jack just goes "no, i can let go of my feelings for [ikra/jill/whoever], get over her, and move on," and goes on a little spiritual quest and he's fine; and aku's like "well damn, that didn't work, worth a try"; and then aku coughs up a rose and goes "oh no"

anyway—

if it's Jack and it's the unconfessed hanahaki strain—

it's more likely that this one developed naturally, since "get jack to fall in love and kill him by not reciprocating" is a lot easier to pull off than "get jack to fall in love and then let him kill himself by not confessing," because like he can't control whether jack confesses. so this is probably a scenario where Aku's on decent terms with Jack.

in order for Jack to have "didn't confess your love" hanahaki for Aku, AND for Aku to know about it (so he can, y'know, react to it), then he'd have to find out Jack's got hanahaki but not that it's for him. and if he's on decent terms with Jack he probably doesn't want him to die, so his most likely reaction is hollering at him for being the fool to end all fools, demanding to know who it is that's got him in this state (he refuses to answer), and commanding him to go confess to whoever-the-hell-she-is. "This whole world adores you, whoever she is she's probably already in love with you! It seems like everyone is." "Everyone? Even you?" "HAAA HA, no. But what does my opinion matter, go talk to your girl." "hm."

... fic where some-sort-of-non-evil aku's worried about jack dying and keeps trying to talk him into talking to his unknown crush or at least tell aku who she is or maybe just get over her, and aku realizes he's slowly growing jealous of this unknown person jack's romantically killing himself over, and then aku coughs up a flower and goes "ah hell. ... well, with everything else jack has going on, obviously i can't tell him about this" and

anyway—

Alternate evil Aku scenario where Jack fell for Ikra/Jill/whoever but that WASN'T Aku's plan, so Aku doesn't know it's for him, he just randomly catches Jack spitting up petals somewhere down the line—probably dramatically in the middle of battle or something—and Aku goes "OH?? YOU?? FELL IN LOVE??? AND HAVEN'T TOLD HER???? POOR, POOR, MISERABLE, COWARDLY SAMURAI! I WOULD NOT HAVE EXPECTED YOU OF ALL PEOPLE TO LET YOURSELF BE WEAKENED BY SUCH A SECRET—WHO IS SHE FOR YOU TO SO FEAR CONFESSING??"

and Jack's just standing there like 😡😡😡 trying to swallow down a whole daffodil while Aku laughs at him

Aku decides if he ever finds out who it is Jack's in love with, he's making her his queen. (it's purely a symbolic title, he's not sharing any power.)

if it's Scaramouche, first we're gonna talk about robo-hanahaki

Because what the hell does hanahaki disease look like in robots. if you assume it's a magic disease then sure fine a robot can cough up flowers, whatever, it's fine. but if you assume it's a biological, psychosomatic disease, then there shouldn't be all that organic matter inside a robot. And I prefer it being a biological disease. So what, is he coughing up tin foil flowers??

But Scaramouche isn't just a robot, he's also got a bit of Aku essence in him—it was probably pumped in the same way we see Aku fuel the ultra-bots. Maybe he's coughing up weird black smoke/goo flowers. You can even use that to justify why & how hanahaki disease works in him—he's coughing out blossoms made out of the same stuff as Aku because Aku's the one he's in love with, like the essence powering him is calling out to its source, trying to crawl back to Aku.

if it's Scaramouche and the unrequited hanahaki strain—

I'm already writing a whole damn fic with a setup of "Scaramouche is in love with Aku and Aku doesn't (initially) reciprocate" so I'll try to give an answer that doesn't overlap too much with it lol

I feel like Scaramouche, with his huge ego, thinks he has a good enough chance of wooing the boss that it's at least worth trying, so if he gets hanahaki he's not like "o woe is me, this is a death sentence, i shall die lovelorn—" no he's like "now how do I manage the symptoms til I charm the boss? 🤔"

We're assuming that all his efforts fail here because if they didn't fail then his hanahaki would be cured without Aku ever finding out. Instead he probably manages to keep the symptoms to himself up until it starts interfering with his work—if he's got flowers coming up his throat while he's singing or playing the flute, his effectiveness on the battlefield tanks, and a star performer like him is NOT putting up with that, babe.

So Aku's finding out because Scaramouche sheepishly confesses to him—because when this is affecting his work, Aku can't not know about it. The boss will know what to do about it! Maaaybe he'll even give Scaramouche a shot...?

Aku goes "hmmm... no. Reprogramming!"

Scaramouche is a very useful minion; but having a weird virus that takes out his two best weapons destroys that usefulness. Aku's not throwing away his #1 assassin if he can help it, but he's quite confident he's not gonna fall in love with Scaramouche, so the only option is for Scaramouche to fall out of love.

Luckily, Scaramouche is a robot. Problem solved!

if it's Scaramouche and the unconfessed hanahaki strain—

It's highly likely that Aku wouldn't even find out Scaramouche is sick. If hanahaki can be cured by simply confessing rather than seducing the object of your desire, Scaramouche would be inclined to confess much faster rather than let it become a problem—and once he confesses, he's not sick anymore, back to work! So as soon as he starts spitting out Aku essence flowers, Scaramouche is going, "aw, nuts. ... I wonder if Aku would like black bouquets made out of his own blood."

(He'd love that, actually.)

If the only reason Scaramouche is confessing is to stop coughing up flowers, Aku's going "Okay, well, are these feelings going to cause any problems with your work?" "No." "Good. Then get back to work."

Alternate scenario where Aku finds out Scaramouche is coughing up flowers before Scaramouche confesses, and he gets pissed. That's the problem with these new robots with emotions, they keep falling in love with things, last time it was some ugly dog, who knows what it is this time, Aku will NOT tolerate his assassin dividing his loyalties between HIS LORD AND MASTER and some cute sentient car or whatever it is he's found, and if that means Aku has to get Scaramouche's whole mind rewritten to completely forget about his little crush then so be it, whatever it takes to ensure he remains COMPLETELY loyal to Aku—

"I am, boss, it's you!" "Oh. ... Very well! Then that won't be necessary."

Scaramouche is hard to hanahaki via the "unconfessed" variety because I don't think he's, like, capable of shame or of dreading rejection. He'd only keep the secret for strategic reasons (like, "wait until I have a chance to polish up and get my coat dry cleaned") and only temporarily. He skips straight past The Agony Of Carrying This Sweet Heavy Secret that most characters would have in his situation.

if it's someone random and the unrequited hanahaki strain—

There are no other specific characters I'm interested in exploring this with, so this is just for any generic random person. Could be one of his scientists or some mercenary he regularly hires or a random citizen that fell for him via his appearances in the news or a cultist or minion or whatever.

If it's somebody that matters to him (read as: someone who's useful to him), like one of his top scientists or an assassin that does regular jobs for him, I think he'd be irritated—because, from Aku's perspective, "hanahaki disease over unrequited love for Aku" is simply a terminal disease. He doesn't reciprocate, he isn't interested in trying to reciprocate, he feels no guilt or personal responsibility for this. He's like "well, fall out of love, I have work for you."

But considering that Aku has so many red flags that if you stitched them all together you could make him a red riding hood cosplay that fits his full height, if his personality alone isn't enough to prevent them from loving him, he's not sure what the hell else could do the trick. "Would it help if I tortured you??" He's trying torture regardless of their answer.

If it's just some random citizen though, or somebody unimportant? He's fine with it. Just let it happen! He kind of likes it, actually! The thought of some poor, helpless, innocent person rotting to death from the inside over him—so deeply devoted to their lord and master that they'll die for it—their body, heart, and soul sacrificed as an offering to him and his dark glory—all that pain and suffering and despair, all of it for AKU...

Listen. listen. if there's anything, ANYTHING AT ALL, in ALL the universe, that Aku might consider a turn-on—it's probably that.

He finds out somebody's upchucking flowers over him, and he's asking them for the flowers. He wants to keep them.

Somewhere deep in his fortress he's got a centuries-old collection of dried and preserved flowers. Each one as valuable as any jewel in his vast stores of treasure, each as precious as a hundred statues in his honor. This is the ultimate display of submission to his rule.

(And it's also proof that not everyone despises him—but surely that doesn't matter to him, right?)

if it's someone random and the unconfessed hanahaki strain—

this would have to be another "aku finds out they're puking petals but not that it's over HIM" situation.

And if (he thinks) it's not over him, 1) he would once more be annoyed if someone useful is dying on him, especially in this scenario when the solution is so simple, and 2) no matter who it is, whether he knows them well or not, he would never, ever, EVER suspect that they're lovesick over him.

Because he's him.

Although, like in the "unrequited" scenario, he might still end up with a flower collection. If it's some random public citizen who's fallen in love with the ruler of the world, they might end up confessing just to save their own lives, and if they do confess he's still asking for their flowers. like, they're not dying over him anymore, but they were, and that's still kind of flattering.

And after long enough of that it probably eventually becomes public knowledge that Aku wants the hanahaki flowers produced in his honor. And some people—well, if they're into Aku, they're probably already some kind of "would totally marry a serial killer" freaks—they might also be big enough freaks to send him their flowers, anonymously. They won't tell him who they are so it isn't a confession, but they're still letting him know they love him enough to choose to die for him. Without having to write a single word, a combined love letter and suicide note.

Oh, Aku would covet those flowers.

(You could also apply the flower collection headcanon to the answers for Jack & Scaramouche, although I feel like it would feel different for Aku if he actually knows the person. It loses some of its romanticism. But Scaramouche's black blood bouquets would win beaucoup points for the aesthetic, and anything Jack produced would get a place of honor above all the rest of Aku's collection—what greater triumph could he possibly have over the samurai!—so, there's that.)

[reidairie]

𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐞 ⦙ se-mi x fem!reader

summary ⦙ two ex-lovers, missing each other, reunite when one finds the other's hoodie and uses a mutual friend to ask them to come collect it.

warnings ⦙ reader insert , none that i know of!

wrd count ⦙ 1000+

chrcter count ⦙ 5000+

author's note ⦙ should i make this a series? also sorry to everyone who requested, i'll get there eventually. ive been so busy lately, and ive had this in my drafts for a little while now. <3 also this song brought back so much nostalgia i had to bring it into a fanfic! (gacha phase...)

𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃 ⦙ yes no

𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 ⦙ hoodie by hey violet.

as reader stood in the middle of her cluttered room, she felt overwhelmed by the amount of stuff that had accumulated over the years. there were clothes lying around, unused makeup scattered on her dresser, and plenty of fully read books on her desk. determined to bring some order back into her space.

the only reason reader decided to start spring cleaning her room was due to her mum's constant nagging about the state of her messy room. she made her way to her wardrobe. she chucked old and un-fitted clothes to one side. but then she came across something she had completely forgotten about - se-mi's hoodie. she knew she had to return it, but her mind was torn. the voices in her head were telling her to keep it as a reminder of their time together, whispering that it was the right person, but the wrong time. However, reason told her that holding onto the hoodie would only prolong the pain of their breakup. the wound was recent, and reader has had a rough time getting over it, but so has someone else.

they were both torn at the desicion they concluded. but it was the best thing, well thats what they thought at the time.

she decides to slip it onto her delicate body, maybe for the last time ever. maybe in another universe things would work out.

"i slip it on over my shoulders.its something i'll never get over. it makes me feel a little bit closer to you." - hey violet.

you texted your mutual friend, su-bong, who jokingly calls himself thanos. i inform him of the hoodie what was meerly left behind. he says that he will let se-mi know and all i can do now is wait for a reply. i sit on the corner of my bed. you reflect on your past decisions, looking out the window as the rain slowly drips down the glass, creating a soothing rhythm. Feelings of regret begin to bubble up inside you as you ponder the path you both had taken to get to this point. a sudden ping from your phone breaks the silence, and you quickly pick it up, hoping for a distraction from your regrets. the notification indicates a text from thanos. It reads "hey, i just texted se-mi about the hoodie she left. she said she will pick up if shes free tonight. ill keep you updated so you know if she will be coming or not." i reply with a thank you and place my phone beside me on the bed once again, and all of a sudden, the bubbling of regret comes back. the fear of going back in the past hollows over you. the thought of seeing se-mi again made your heart race, but the memory of your breakup added a layer of unease. the rest of the day passed by slowly, as you waited anxiously for se-mi's arrival."

As the hours ticked away; awfully slowly, you found yourself growing more and more nervous. you fidgeted with the hoodie strings, smoothing out wrinkles and checking for any possible stains. when the doorbell finally rang, signalling se-mi's arrival, your heart skipped a beat. you sigh deeply, trying to calm yourself as you walked to the door and opened it. standing in front of you was se-mi, her expression unreadable.

you swallowed back your emotions and managed a polite smile. "hey..." trying to keep your voice steady. an awkward silence hung in the air for a moment, the tension between you palpable "let me just grab the hoodie," you said quietly as you shut the door polietly and run upstairs to your room, grab it and go back down, but, your brother intrupts you. "whos at the door?" he questions, "its a bit late."

"its se-mi" i wave her hoodie in the air, as soon as he understood, he let me be. he nodded and gave you a subtle thumbs up before taking his leave, sensing the need for a private moment between you and se-mi. you were now left alone with her, the silence between you filled with unspoken thoughts and emotions.

"if you want it back, if you want it back, im here waiting. come and take it back, come and take it back." - hey violet.

she took the hoodie from you, her fingers gently brushing against yours, sending a jolt of electricity through your veins. Neither of you spoke for a few moments, the air thick with the weight of the memories that lay between you. finally she looked up at you. searching in your eyes, for something, anything, what was an indication to what you were feeling. you stood there, awkwardly, as she analyzed you. it was as if time has stopped. the clocks stop turning and so didy your future as you watch her leave into the oblivion.

you took in the mess of your room once again. she decide to clean her room. she connected her bluetooth headphones to her phone and turned on her playlist. as she started cleaning, her mum and brother stood in the doorway, observing the scene silently. they exchanged a glance, their expressions filled with concern and surprise. her mum was the first to speak up. "Is she okay?" her mum whispers to her brother. her brother shrugged, his eyes still fixed on his sibling. "i didn't even think she knew how to clean."

" the smell of your colonge is still on it, but you're still gone." - hey violet.

reader groaned as the cheerful notification interrupted her much-needed beauty sleep. she begrudgingly opened the message to find a small glimmer of hope flickered in her heart as she considered the possibility that this could mark the beginning of a new chapter in her life.

"thanks for the hoodie."

A small glimmer of hope flickered in her heart as she considered the possibility that this could mark the beginning of a new chapter in her life.

"your welcome. :)" .......

"im still rocking your hoodie, and chewing on the strings. it makes me think about you, so i wear it when i sleep. i kept the broken zipper, and the cigarrette burns. still rocking your hoodie, baby, even though it hurts." - hey violet

ㅤׂ 𝄄︵⠀ masterlist , most recent , dni / int , venus ㅤׅ ⌯ ઇ

[sparklehounds]

I would be SO down to hear about the made up hollowivy narrative in your head. Just btw

well.......

if you say so <3

considering the post mentioned uprooted by the antlers ill just throw in lyrics that make me think of them to start in no particular order and without any explanation because its 3am and im eepy

ive always thought of them as having a dynamic where hollowpaw has a crush at first sight and ivypaw is just kind of there until she gets to know him more and they become friends. i feel like she would have started sneaking out to see him and they would maybe visit the horseplace for fun at night when they weren't training or they would explore beyond the woods to practice their new fighting moves. he's very bad at hiding his crush but also ivypaw is so obscenely oblivious to it that it's painful. she's just focused on the fact that she finally has made a friend and since she's never really had one before she has no idea what a Social Cue is

they probably would eventually get caught sneaking out (ivypaw by dovepaw of course, how could she not hear her sister leaving for long periods of time?) and eventually it has to come to an end especially as they get closer to the battle. before the battle happens they meet one more time, go on one more little adventure, and hollowflight tells her how he feels, they're in love, blahblahblah. they go to battle, hollowflight is killed when ivypool isn't there to help him, and she is devastated and feels guilty about the whole thing

i personally try to pretend fernsong doesn't exist in canon because his entire relationship with ivy makes my head hurt (sorry fernsong, i just don't love characters dating their close relatives) but if i had to fit him into this narrative it would be as a poor rebound on ivypool's part. (and also in this universe they are not related, by magic or whatever.) she is haunted by her old friend in her dreams here and there, mainly nightmares where they are back in the dark forest and he is killed by hawkfrost in front of her (because it wouldn't be ivypool if it wasn't ptsd)

but i think the appeal for him with her was that (in this narrative) he was the only one who was unconditionally kind to her and understood what she was going through. we know literally nothing about his family so i like to imagine he's got some weird dramatic backstory or family drama like she has, and they bond over it while training.

i also feel like this idea also adds a layer to ivypool being so pissed that dovewing got to leave thunderclan to be with her mate in shadowclan. she wanted that to be her and hollowflight and it's just another thing that she feels like dovewing holds above her (spoiler: dovewing still did nothing wrong in this story ivy is just deeply mentally ill (affectionate))

i suppose to talk about some of the lyrics, i think that ivypool became a drypaw after hollowflight's death. as it is with crossclan riverclan relationships, i think he taught her how to swim (on top of what she learned in the dark forest) and maybe catch fish, and now she can't stand the thought of swimming, both for the reminder of that gross sludgy dark forest water and of her old friend.

i could probably talk more but again. eepy. should sleep. my eyes kinda hurt. here's a drawing of them as payment for letting me talk because this is my art account after all

[kiwiikato]

Hi! I saw your requests are open so I need someone to write some Ken x reader ideas lol but first I wanted to know if you have any rules or is there anything you don't feel comfortable writing? 👉🏻👈🏻

masterlist

PLEASE DO TAG/CREDIT ME IF YOU USE ANY OF THESE IDEAS :3 i would love to read everyone’s work

i really hope this is accurate to what you want in your requests, so let’s go! i’ll try to get a good amount out for u :3

as for the comfortable part, i don’t really have any rules, just the usual avoiding really weird and socially bad topics

note! if anyone wants to request these headcannons as an actually drabble, i would be more than willing to do it. just pls be aware that i am hesitant on nsfw stories but i’d be willing to give it a try!

kenji sato x reader ideas!

divorced dad! kenji x preschool teacher! reader - very wholesome story, kenji takes his child to school and after a couple of interactions, he can’t help but get nervous and ask you out for dinner, finding your kind and loving nature for his child lovable.

baseball player! kenji x reporter! reader

married couple! kenji x reader - just a story of cute moments they have as a married couple, whether it be sleeping, cooking, dancing, showering, and so on. all these actions and moments pure and sweet.

kenji x old childhood friend! reader

kenji x ex-girlfriend/boyfriend! reader - the usual ex couple who runs into one another and can’t deny their remaining attraction to one another, giving it another shot

exhausted! kenji x sweet convenience worker! reader - on the days where kenji is more exhausted from taking care of emi, he takes a break picking out some snacks for himself to enjoy. the convenience worker there ends up feeling bad for him and giving him the snacks for free on you. this one time interactions becomes more frequent and he eventually asks you out on a date with a cute confession.

kenji x marine biologist! reader - kenji goes and asks you, a dr. in marine biology, specific weird questions, all correlating to emi (who you don’t know about). it isn’t till he keeps coming back more, that he finally introduces you to emi, making you become excited at the cute scaly kaiju.

kenji! x coaches daughter/son! reader

kenji x ami’s sister! reader

ultraman! kenji x robotics engineer! reader - a cute story of kenji always “accidently” breaking things and returning back to you to fix them, all as an excuse to see you.

ultraman! kenji x ultraperson! reader

kenji x architect! reader - kenji hires an architecture to help add onto his house, the constant meetings get you closer and closer

kenji x personal chef! reader

kenji x kaiju whisperer! reader - only one person really knows anything about kaijus, you! being the only person to actually have stumbled across kaijus, you begin to study them and grow your knowledge. when kenji first gets emi, he struggles to take care of her, giving in to searching for the girl who is rumored to be a kaiju whisperer. he eventually hires you and the two of you become closer over time.

kenji! x single mother! reader

kenji sato x reader angst ideas!

couple! kenji x reader - motorcycle incident - either the reader OR kenji get into a motorcycle accident and are sent to the hospital. the unharmed partner runs to the hospital in a hurry, panicking at the wounds they’re significant other have sustained. when they get to the hospital, they can’t help but to demand answers and cry as they wait for you to come back from the operation room.

cheating! kenji x reader

kenji x cheating! reader

divorced couple! kenji x reader

mourning kenji x reader - it’s been a couple months, maybe even a year, since his partner passed away due to a illness. each day is a reminder of how you’re no longer there in front of him and it tears him apart. sending him into grief and loosing his bonds and hobbies in the process.

kenji x reader - fighting and falling out of love

college playboy! kenji x reader

asshole celebrity! kenji x reader - kenji is getting interviewed, and in the midst of the questions, he is asked about his love life and calls you a temporary fling, hurting your feelings and making you leave his place saddened

ultraman! kenji x injured in battle! reader

kenji x kidnapped for ransom! reader

kenji sato x reader nsfw ideas!

dominant! kenji x submissive! reader

submissive! kenji x dominant! reader

sports rivals! kenji x m!reader

annoyed/sexually frustrated! kenji x reporter! reader - kenji is being watched by a reporter, you, so his normal routines are being disrupted, including sexual relief. eventually he catches you, lectures you, get frustrated, and you offer to do anything to not get sued. one thing led to another and BOOM! the nasties are done ;3

glory hole! kenji x reader

baseball player! kenji x assistant coach! reader

single father! kenji x babysitter! reader - kenji is a single father, struggling to raise his human child, he calls for a babysitter. you come into the picture and have now been working there for months, the both of you slightly eyeing eachother but staying professional. until one day, kenji’s kid is asleep and the two of you get some much needed alone time

ultraman! kenji x assistant! reader

[tea-stained-notes]

Colin x Penelope - Divide | Chapter 11

Colin has made it: He’s a famous pop star, touring the world, adored to extremes. If only he wasn’t drowning his loneliness and anxiety in too many drinks, missing home and yet incapable of going back. But when Violet falls ill and he reluctantly returns he has to face the mess he has made - not only with his family but also the woman who might have always been the one.

Warnings: illness (cancer), death, anxiety, drug use, alcohol abuse, eventual smut

Chapter word count: ~2100

MASTERLIST

She is the sweetest thing that I know Should see the way she holds me when the lights go low Shakes my soul like a pothole every time - Hearts Don’t Break Around Here

“Are you alright?” Penelope emerges from the en-suite, her eyes filling with concern at the sight of him. Her bare face and oversized t-shirt have startled him — this suddenly feels like something real. Like he could get to see her like this every night. Colin jumps up on wobbly knees, trying to force a smile onto his lips. “Sure.” He picks up his clothes and places a soft kiss on her forehead before hurrying past her into the bathroom. Mechanically he disposes of the condom, freshens up and dresses himself. And suddenly he’s gripping the edge of the sink as he stares at his pale reflection. He doesn’t want to taint the memory of this incredible experience they’ve just shared, but all his demons are already whispering their reproachful questions and accusations. He clenches his eyes shut. No. It’s not over yet. Penelope is waiting and as long as darkness presses against the windows he mustn’t let his mind get the better of him. When he slips under the covers he immediately pulls her into his chest and marvels at the way her presence calms him within seconds. How will he ever stand another cold hotel bed? She starts drawing soothing circles on his ribs. “You’re overthinking, Col.” “And you know me too well.” She draws back a little to smile softly and press her lips to his. It feels so familiar yet still surreal. “I promised you we’d talk about what’s just happened.” “Right. And I still want to. But…” His fingers dig into her loose sleep shirt. “Can we maybe put a pin in this? Just until we’ve both had some time to process?” “Oh. Of course.” “Unless there’s something you really want to—“ “No, it’s okay. I’m okay.” Penelope lifts his hand and breathes a kiss onto his knuckles. “Better than okay.” “Yeah?” She snuggles back into his side. “Yeah.” Colin wonders if she wants to pretend as well. That until sunrise they’re safe in their own little world. She has opened the window and a night breeze caresses their still heated skin. Silence settles over them as he traces the lines on her palm.

"Who do you listen to these days?” she eventually mumbles, sleepiness scratching her voice. “Mostly melancholic stuff. Folk from the sixties. Too much Noah Kahan.” “Hmm. His stuff reminds me of your earlier work.” “It does?” “Yes. When the songs still sounded like you. Honest. Handmade.” Colin sighs, his chest tightening. She patiently looks up at him. After a long moment he starts singing quietly. “Hide your secrets, disguise your weakness. And lose yourself inside your busyhead. Burn your bridges and leave no witnesses. All alone inside your busyhead.” He smiles sadly. “I’ve had that one on repeat for years.” Penelope reaches up to caress his temple. “You’re not alone, Colin.” “I am in here,” he whispers, placing his hand over hers. Tears fill her eyes and his stomach cramps painfully. “I keep making you cry, I’m sorry.” “No, it’s alright. I’m so glad you’re opening up about this. It’s just—“ She gently touches her forehead to his. “It pains me to know you’re so unhappy.” Colin carefully frames her face in his palms, wipes her cheeks and presses a kiss into her hair. He lingers for a long moment, his heart in agony at her quiet sniffles. “I’m not just a victim in all this,” he finally murmurs. “I’ve made countless shitty decisions. And maybe this life wouldn’t be so soul-sucking if I could still be proud of my work. I really miss that. Connecting with people over the things I’ve created. I’m so sick of only being known on the surface.” Penelope folds her arms across his chest and props up her chin on them to study him. He starts twirling an auburn lock around his finger. “Remember my first single that went viral, shortly after I’d moved to L.A.?” “Look At Me Now,” she whispers. “I was so desperate for that attention, it was ridiculous really. And now everyone is looking, all the time. But not at me as a person. They’re looking at the massive screens at my shows, at unflattering paparazzi photos, at video snippets from red carpets. And when I meet fans in person they’re so intimidated they can barely talk to me — or they get really intrusive, like those women at the pub. It’s so bloody rare to be asked even a single original question during an interview, to get the feeling that anyone truly listens to what I’m trying to say.” He chuckles bitterly. “And of course I don’t really have anything to say anymore.”

His voice has grown raspy from tiredness and the lump in his throat. “Sorry, I keep talking about myself, it’s—“ “It’s perfectly okay. We’ve talked so much about my work these past few weeks and I still barely know anything about yours. How you feel about it.” “Well, I’m only just beginning to confront that.” He swallows. “When I asked you a couple of weeks ago what you thought of my music, that night we had the impromptu dance party…” “The night I started having massive doubts about Alfred.” Colin hesitates, briefly tempted to ask if she had already felt as strongly as he had then, if she would have actually kissed him had Benedict not interrupted. He nods instead. “Your answer really hurt. Not that you meant it to, I know,” he quickly adds when she opens her mouth to apologise. “You simply said aloud what I hadn’t been able to admit to myself for years. Because staking everything on this, losing and missing all of you, only to realise that I’ve been turned into just another cash cow, that I’m barely an artist at all…” “But if it all pains you so much, why don’t you start over? Step away for a while, regroup, take your time to work on an album that feels like you again.” He flashes her a crooked smirk. “I wish it was that easy. My contract is fucking ironclad. When I told Mae to push back the tour dates indefinitely I didn’t even know if I could afford the fine, should the label sue me. I still don’t.” “What?” Penelope’s head shoots up. “Aren’t you like disgustingly rich by now?” Colin blushes, his gaze dropping to the bed sheet. “I’ve given most of it away. I have a small team tasked with finding worthy causes to donate to. Climate research, HIV prevention, animal shelters, what have you.” “You’ve gone full Dolly Parton?” “Oh please, don’t insult the Queen of Country. I could never be as good as her.” Penelope’s wide eyes soften. “But even without that money, surely you’re established enough to have the upper hand in negotiations?” “It’s never felt like it. But maybe, I don’t know. I should have pushed back more over the years. There have just been so many other… issues. I didn’t have the strength to fight that battle as well.” “Well, I hope you’ll find it.” She presses a kiss to his chest and it warms him through the fabric of his shirt. “You deserve better, Colin. And we’re all here for you.” Now he is the one tearing up. He wonders whether she’s right. Whether this deep sorrow isn’t exactly what he deserves, a grand mess of his own making. And more than anything he wonders if he could ever actually deserve her. If what he has to offer could ever be enough.

But right now she is still here, still looking at him like he means at least a fraction to her of what she means to him. So he gently guides her back to his lips, kisses her until he’s weightless, tethered to nothing but her. They’re both breathless when they part. Penelope’s fingers are playing with the short hair at the base of his neck, sending pleasant shivers down his spine. “I’m sorry for what I said to you the day you came back.” “What do you mean?” “Assuming that you’ve been keeping all that money to yourself. You’ve always been selfless, sometimes to a fault.” “Until I wasn’t and fucked everything up.” “Colin.” Her hand curls around his nape. “At some point you’ll have to stop beating yourself up over that.” “I know,” he murmurs. Then a corner of his mouth twitches up. “Put that on the list, will you?” “Oh, believe me, it’s already on there,” she smirks and he fakes a gasp, tickling her side until she lets out a small giggle. Eventually Penelope snuggles back into his shoulder, once more tracing invisible patterns on his ribs. “You’re probably one of like three proper celebrities who don’t waste their millions on yachts and mansions.” He shrugs. “I had enough luxury growing up. It just adds weight. And I’ve seen enough suffering to feel horrible if I so much as buy a pair of jeans.” “I hope you at least splurge on fair fashion.” “Of course. My little social justice warrior.” She pokes her tongue out at him but he just smiles, running a delicate hand over her hair. “But where do you drop your anchor? You need somewhere that isn’t a hotel room.” “I have a small flat in Paris.” “Paris, eh?” she teases with a French accent. “Is that where you bring all your paramours?” He looks at her, earnest. “Please stop with that. I told you the truth, I promise.” The grin fades from her lips. She searches his eyes for anything but sincerity. Finally, she raises a hand to his cheek. “I know. I’m sorry.” Her thumb strokes gently across his stubble. He exhales. “We took a family trip to Paris once. Back when Dad was still alive. We were all so different then. Carefree.” “So you tried to chase that feeling,” she whispers. “Did it work?” “Not really. But it’s still beautiful. And only a short train ride from—“ He chokes. “Home. It’s still home, Colin. If you want it to be.” He closes his eyes to hide the tears once more forming in them. Penelope presses a kiss to his pulse point. “You could get a flat in London,” she says softly. “Stop by whenever your schedule allows.” “Yeah. Maybe.”

Images flutter through his mind. Of a life so different to the one he’s been leading. Of his own cosy place, a massive dining table and all the Bridgertons crowding around it, ribbing and talking over each other. Laughter in the air. Penelope by his side. Her feet in his lap as she types away while he’s strumming a new melody on his guitar. Weekend trips and snow days and summer picnics. Her face in the front row, the only one he sees. And when she gazes up at him with hopeful eyes, he almost tells her. Almost tells her that he wants forever with her. That she has held his heart for most of his life, however much he has denied it. “I should go.” Penelope jerks back. “What?” “I should go,” he repeats, forcing the words out with every bit of willpower he can muster. “I don’t want them to find out about us by seeing me sneak out in the morning.” “Oh.” She swallows. “Okay.” He carefully pushes a loose strand behind her ear. “I don’t regret this, Pen.” But he does. Because now that he knows what it feels like to have her in his arms, how on earth will he recover when things inevitably get ruined? When she realises that this is not what she wants? “Take the day to think about this,” Colin murmurs. “I will as well. And then we’ll talk, okay?” He grants himself one more kiss, tender and lingering. Then he moves to leave the bed but Penelope grasps his hand. “Wait. Can you…” Her cheeks grow rosy. “Can you please stay a little longer? Just till I’m asleep?” His chest tightens at the sight of her pleading gaze. “Of course.” He lies back down on his side, Penelope facing him, their joined hands between them. She whispers a timid “Thank you” and studies him for a long moment, as if to take in every single detail. Her eyes grow heavier with every second until she finally gives in and lets them fall shut. Colin watches her for what feels like hours, his breath in tune with hers. He carves every sensation into his brain. Her warm skin, her relaxed features, her soft noises, her intoxicating scent. And then, his heart ripping in two, he slips his hand from hers and soundlessly leaves the room.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

CHAPTER 12

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[thebigqueer]

fineeee i guess ill make a random headcanon post (these thoughts have been plaguing me for months and i need to get them out)

ik sarah fortune and vi are probably prison wives which is why i also think sarah did most of vis tattoos while they were there, which is how they became prison wives (a whole lot of sitting very intimiately on top of each other can do that to people.)

jinx left ekko with a key to her hideout. its probably one of the only last things thats remaining of jinxs past since she was very determined to destroy anything reminding her of her past, so he keeps it in his room. he hasn't opened it yet because it feels like a breach of her privacy but he has it just in case she ever comes back or if he ever decides he wants to.

on that note, i actually think the first time he even dares to go into her hideout is after one of his and vi's meetups. she's probably talking about how much she misses jinx and he brings it up. they don't actually go in for monthssss afterwards cuz again they feel weird being in her hideout, and vi feels like she has no right to this part of jinx's life given how distant they became. but eventually curiosity gets the best of them and they go in.

cait and vi have two dogs.

cait and vi also spar together on the weekends.

caitlyn went to university while she was living with her parents so it was kinda hard for her to sneak off to parties but she did it somehow. that said the first time she got drunk was in college and jayce had to help sneak her back in through her window.

vi and mylo and claggor would often hang out with some of the older kid neighbors and would usually be the plug for alcohol. but vis first kiss (with a girl one one of the low rooftops) was interrupted because mylo got wayyyy too drunk one time (it was his first time and she gave him so much shit for it). powder found out and got sad that she didnt get invited to the party even though she saw how mad vander got

i think caitlyns always known she was into girls but was less sure if she was into guys. while she was a teenager she dated maybe one or two but she realized she very much was not into them.

mel has a lot of knowledge about weaponry (given shes from noxus) and when she came over to the kiramman house for events or dinners she and caitlyn would nerd out about guns. mel would tell her about some special noxus weapons and how they differed. mel was even the first person to gift her a gun (with cassandras permission ofc).

after cait finds out about vis drinking problems while they were separated she also stops drinking (at least around vi, but she tries not to drink even when she isn't around vi too). that paired w how her father took up alcohol after cassandra's death, alcohol is kinda barred at the kiramman household for a while.

i honestly think vi prefers not to be around anyone after she has nightmares or on particularly hard days. i think she likes to stew on it for a while on her own, not cuz she 'doesnt wanna burden cait' but more becuase she just doesn't want to be smothered like that. obviously she talks to cait when she feels comfortable enough but she likes to be alone when shes having off days.

felicia and connol got married after they found out they were pregnant with vi (and in the wedding picture that vander and then jinx kept, you can see felicia's baby bump with vi). im not sure how league lore works but i think felicia and connol decided to officially marry more so cuz it felt right to them and less because they 'had to' because i think marriage is honestly more of a label thing in zaun (like oh yeah we can marry but we also dont have to, it doesnt really matter cuz it doesnt change how i feel about you), whereas in piltover marriage probably holds more social and economic weight.

even though sevika wasnt particularly close to vi or jinx when they were younger (when vander was still in charge of the last drop) she still talked w them. i think she was softer w powder cuz she was younger and would sometimes play along with her dolls, but she was very teasing with vi (which teenage vi did NOT appreciate).

i do think that sevika would help vi train sometimes too, even though i fully think vander was the one mostly in charge of that. but on the nights that maybe vander was too busy and sevika felt like it, she'd give vi pointers on how to fight.

one time sevika saw vi flirting with her first girlfriend on the rooftops and she teased vi mercilessly about it while they were sitting next to vander. vander raised his eyebrows at vi and vi blushed and stormed off. sevika just howled with laughter.

[fishhateme]

maxiel(ish) drabble pt 3

part two if you're confused

 So, er, Duolingo. He'd clicked on the notification, ready to get fille and enfants mixed up again, but his finger must have slipped or something. It didn't matter, really, except it really did fucking matter, because now he'd opened his chat with Christian Horner, sighing so loudly Sassy was going to jump down from atop the bookshelf and scratch him just to get him to shut up. "Hey, Dan! The team and I were thinking Vegas would be a wonderful opportunity to announce you as team ambassador, maybe film some PR. You know how the US fans can get, it'd be good for all of us, as a family. The door's always open, if you'd like" Daniel buried his head in his hands, throwing his phone with a flick of his wrist that made pain bloom underneath his hand, his muscles stiff for a hot second, his faded scar over the spot where he'd gotten the surgery a painful reminder of another one of his failures. When he was done with his tiny tantrum, Daniel picked up the phone again, typing and deleting, then typing again, his usually steady fingers now quite shaky. They'd been doing that, lately. "ill think about it, sure" Big, fat chance, da- I mean, Christian.

Eventually, Max came back from his shower, dirty blonde hair dripping droplets of water on the wooden floor as he walked into the living room, a content smile on his face. He stopped by the bookshelf Sassy was perched on, getting on his tippy toes to rub her belly, earning a contented purr as Daniel narrowed his eyes. Spoiled brat.

It didn't matter, though, because soon Max turned to the couch, huddling up with Daniel, pressing a kiss to the base of his neck, where the last remnants of his curls blended into his back hair. Daniel tried hard not to think about how fluffy and perfect his hair was a few years back, closing his eyes as he felt Max hum against his skin. "What are you watching, schat?" Daniel shrugged, half hearted, looking down at his bitten, ugly cuticles. "Uh, I dunno... Love Island? I think it's Love Isl- wait, no, this says it's Love is Blind. Ugh, I hate that, why have I been watching that for the last hour?" He complained, voice whiny in a way he really didn't allow it to be unless he was alone with Max, because he usually didn't want to seem childish, even if he was feeling as helpless as a child, his feelings coming in waves. Max chuckled, pressing another chaste kiss to his skin. "Daniel" He muttered, his skin a little cooler to the touch from the shower as he pressed his cheek to the base of Daniel's neck, settling into the crook of his neck, searching to be closer, closer, closer. Daniel sighed, looking up at the ceiling without blinking, consciously ignoring the way his eyesight was getting a little blurry at the edges. He'd had this very particular move ever since he'd first moved to Italy at 17, chewing on his bottom lip so it wouldn't visibly tremble, which he thought was pretty neat and discreet. Still, it did nothing to hide the humiliatingly vulnerable crack in his voice, slightly raspy "Max" Max merely sighed, holding him a little bit closer, his arms so much stronger than when they'd first started dating, filling out his grey shirt nicely, so much nicer than Daniel. But none of that mattered now, not really, because Max pressed another kiss to the base of his neck, humming softly. "Daniel, you know what I thought of in the shower? If you come with me to Vegas, we could get married by an Elvis. Jimmy and Sassy would be the ring bearers, of course" Daniel let out a laugh at that, a loud, unattractive cackle that startled even him as it left his chest, forcing a smile out of him as the first tears fell. He couldn't help but roll his eyes, fixing his gaze ahead, on the practically empty bookshelf where Sassy was still lounging. "Shut up, Max"

thanks for reading everybody, party's over now, ill just go to the corner to cry about the singapore gp if anyone needs me