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literaila · 2 days

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do you ever think reader would storm out of the house after a fight between her & satoru? (referring to ur keeping secrets fic.) i feel like part of her wouldn’t bc she’s also thinking about the kids and she just can’t leave them, but she also seems a lot more grounded than satoru in general. i think the other part of her would also need a minute to step out for a bit bc i just know satoru drives her to insanity. i don’t knoww, satoru’s reaction to her storming out just infects my brain, but i know she couldn’t do that to megumi and tsumiki </3 i’m such a sucker for your hurt/comfort fics

“where are you going?”

“not sure,” satoru says, barely mumbling. “i didn’t ask.”

“you didn’t ask?”

he looks at you, just a glimmer of teasing in his eyes. but the rest of him is apprehensive—he knows what you’re thinking.

he always does.

but he looks back down, shoving shirts into a suitcase in the worst possible way.

“does it matter?” he asks, dryly. “it’s just another work trip.”

“how long are you going to be gone?”

“however long it takes to—“

“can i come with you?”

satoru pauses, and his eyes trail to you.

to you, where you’re standing in the doorway. you only know he’s leaving because of the suitcase, you only know that you can’t deal with him being gone again because of that feeling.

it’s reminiscent of packing your own bag at fifteen. of never returning home.

“you want to come?” satoru’s voice is too smooth, too unserious. “you hate planes. and what about work? you want to take your students too?”

“how long are you going to be gone?”

satoru sighs. he finally relents, walking over to you. his smile is a little irritated, tired. “it won’t take long,” he says, rubbing your shoulders. “you’ll get the bed all to yourself.”

“this is the fourth trip in the last three months.”

he tilts his head. “it’s the same amount as always.”

“it’s—“ you stop.

it’s different.

and your heart is racing, because you’re used to this feeling.

really, satoru has taken regular work trips for as long as you’ve known him. his passport is well used, his suitcase replaced almost once a year.

but it’s different.

because it used to be you, satoru, and the kids. it used to be you and the kids waiting at the door, talking about him behind his back, going to the airport to pick him up.

and even if you missed him, you knew that tsumiki missed him just as much. you knew that megumi was waiting for him to come back just the same—getting restless without someone there to mess with constantly.

it used to be you and the kids, when satoru was gone.

but now…

megumi is at school all week—and even when he comes home, it’s only to keep you happy. so that he can take a break from jujutsu, and sleeping in a dorm right next to yuji’s.

and tsumiki—

you stop thinking about that almost immediately.

it’s just not worth it.

when satoru leaves, you’re all alone.

“i wish you could come. you know how the higher ups are about—“

“why don’t you tell them no?”

satoru is wearing his blindfold, so you can’t see his eyes. but you see it as he leans back, looking at you curiously. “what?”

“tell them no. they’re scared of you, aren’t they? they’re not going to make you—“

“what other special grade sorcerer are they going to send?” he asks, shaking his head. “i hate them too, but if they need me—“

“i need you.”

satoru stops. you want to see his eyes—you want him to stay here.

you don’t want to walk around the house and chat with ghosts. you don’t want to be the only one left behind—the only one who has nothing else.

what about you? what’s supposed to happen to you when satoru leaves you behind?

he’s done it before, and he’ll do it again.

“what?”

“i don’t understand why you have to go,” you say, and you’re angry now. “i’m tired of your work trips, and i hate that you don’t even care, and i hate being in the house all alone—“

“what? what do you mean i don’t care?”

you pull away from him. just to do it first. “you don’t even try to get someone else to do it, you just leave—“

“why are you blaming me? i didn’t ask for this.”

“because you’re always gone! and i’m always alone, and you haven’t even asked me how i feel about it—“

“it’s not like i enjoy doing it,” he says, frowning. “i don’t like leaving you or the kids, it’s just work—“

“i think you do enjoy it,” you spit. and you know that you shouldn’t but, “you like being the only one that they can call. being the strongest. that’s why you haven’t told them no, that’s why—“

“what?”

“is it fun to leave the house? to escape for a week or two while i’m here to take care of everything?”

satoru scoffs. “are you kidding?”

“what? you can admit it. go on and leave. you’ve done it before, satoru.”

his jaw clenches. “if you don’t like being here,” he says, so soft—but you can feel it. the impending blow. “then go somewhere else.”

immediately, your body flinches back. you fall inwards, wanting nothing more than to fall back against him.

but it’s too late.

“i can’t help that im the strongest, i don’t enjoy leaving you—but ill do it because it’s my job. if you hate being alone, then find something else. go see megumi, or nanami, or—“

you take a step back, almost stumbling into the wall.

“you’re putting words in my mouth and i—“

but you don’t hear the rest of that sentence.

and maybe this is your fault. you shouldn’t have picked a fight, you shouldn’t have even said anything.

satoru isn’t to blame for your loneliness. he isn’t to blame for anything.

you turn around. and you walk out the door with shaking hands.

go somewhere else, he said.

and you will.

#to answer your question #i doubt reader would ever leave the house as long as the kids were there #and also the series might not make this very evident #but i don’t think they actually fight much #only when one of them is avoiding their feelings 🙄#even this fight feels kind of… unnatural? for them #and i think satoru would always leave first #because he’s definitely the meaner one when it comes to his anger #i mean in general he’s nicer #but i know he’s got a vicious fury to him #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #a typical family #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo x you #satoru gojo x reader #jjk gojo

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stxrslut · 3 days

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What would daddy!johnb do if he was trying to get you to turn your brain off but you were fighting it? :(

oh this is so :((

you’re just so stressed out and you can’t calm down, just pacing around, breathing super quick and freaking the fuck out.

he brings you down to sit in his lap, but it doesn’t calm you as much as it should. you’re still fidgeting and whining away.

“hey— hey, shhh. calm down, come here.” he pulls you into him, helping you to rest your head into the crook his neck. “m’right here, it’s okay.”

you shake your head frantically, trying to pull away as you keep crying. he kisses your temple gently “hey, you’re okay— you need to relax okay? think you need to be with daddy for a bit right now.” he murmurs, rubbing your back as he forces you into a more comfortable position.

“can’t.” you fret, shaking your head “can’t be with daddy,” you sob, head falling back to his shoulder. he looks down at you, concerned by your resistance “can’t? can you tell me why?”

“just— need to do this I- I can’t!” you cry, still hyper fixated on the task that is causing your distress. upon hearing your reason he frowns. “nuh uh sweetie, don’t need to do this right now. right now you need to calm down, and I think, with the best of my judgments, that that constitutes turning this pretty little head off for a little bit,” he quips slightly, tapping the side of your head gently when he refers to it “you got me?”

you shake your head, trying to protest but he stops you, “you got me? can you come to daddy now?” his voice is so deep, and really you can’t help but feel your head begin to go fuzzy.

you nod ever so slightly, lips beginning to part as you desire something in your mouth. he smiles “can y’say it for me?” he coaxes, stroking your cheek gently.

“comin’ to you daddy.” you murmur, beginning to relax into his touch. “good girl.” he murmurs deeply, slipping his thumb into your mouth, almost like a little reward. “why don’t we gets the shorts off then, know there’s only one way to really get you calmed down.”

#anon #john b prompt #john b dialogue #john b concept #john b blurb #john b outer banks #john b #john b routledge #john b smut #john b x reader

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ma1dita · 15 hours

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when the curtains close

a 'partners in crime' installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

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. split povs: pollux, annabeth, your 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, semi edited—def coming back to this)

—

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. 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, not children, Dad. 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 than 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

#luke castellan x reader #trouble!verse #made by ma1dita ♥︎#pjo x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #luke castellan angst

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mochinomnoms · 1 day

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Mochi, mochi! Hear me out. I love the shrimpy-mer Yuu chronicles, and PTM, and just *kicks feet*

So, let's just imagine. Every relationship has its ups and downs right? Maybe our shrimp has an argument with their eels. Maybe one of the guys hurt their shrimpies feelings. Maybe it was a dumb fight. So Yuu needs a break and maybe some comforting.

If we're going octo poly they go and hang out with Azul. Lots of comfort cuddles in a cozy spot, wrapped up Azul's tentacles while he lets you vent.

Or .. what if you got the rest of the families(s) involved. We kind of can already tell the twins are spoiled by their parents, but I just picture in my mind that Shrimpy/Yuu is adored by the Leech parents, especially Mama leech. So you got Yuu hanging out with Mama or Papa and the next thing you know they're sharing stories about dumb fights they had when they were courting or giving advice dealing with their sons "oh yeah, one time I pissed her off when I was trying to court her so she bit me in the tail hard, still have the scar!" "Listen, give him the cutest pout possible and Floyd will crumble, trust me, he won't admit it but he's just like his dad when it comes to cute things."

or or! Let's get Mama or even Grandma Ashengrotto involved. What's Mama's best comforting method? Food of course! Sharing food is love under the sea after all. Mama Ashengrotto cooking up comfort food. She cooks so much(Yuu's so tiny, please eat!) Sends Yuu home with leftovers, but tells them no sharing with the twins until they apologized.

Grandma Ashengrotto! If I remember correctly she's good at magic/potions and was teaching Azul when he was younger. So Yuu ends up hanging out with grandma. Hugging one of her tentacles as she's working something in the cauldron. Maybe grandma's got some sass(I love me some sassy old lady), "You know, I could send you home with a couple potions. Lot easier to handle a mer if he's the size of your palm..." "Nana no!" "I'm just saying!"

Ah they're so cute too! I think that the boys are each mama's boys and have always been attached to their hips. Mama Leech has been repeatedly referred to as a worrywart, checking in on her boys nearly daily (?) to make sure they're safe. And while we haven't heard as much about Mama Ashengrotto, Azul has mentioned having a close relationship to her, so it's safe to assume they're pretty attached. They're stark defenders of their boys.

They're also fairly aware of what their sons can be like, and are quick to coddle you over them. It's quite sweet, their sons think, until they realize that Mama is showing just a bit of favoritism and telling you all the ways to make him melt into your arms again. Ah, but can they really be mad when their spouse is fitting into their family so well? Plus, they can never really stay mad at you for long for silly arguments, you just too cute sometimes!

#mochi asks #twst #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #jade leech x reader #floyd leech x reader

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on-leatheredwings · 1 day

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any hc for male reader x yandere batfam?? any of them will work. also the batboy didn't know he was bi at first (unless you're doing Tim). and the reader is dealing with internalized homophobia?

somethin short n sweet :]

Soft! Older! Yandere! Damian Wayne / Male Reader

> romantic > tw/cw: internalized homophobia, references to violent homophobia > word count: 723 > a/n: just something short and sweet... > male reader can be cis or trans

"Study with me," is what Damian Wayne says, before placing a pile of books on your already-crowded table.

His clean cut appearance contrasts with the hipster, rustic interior of your favorite cafe. It’s not really his scene, as far as you’re aware. Both the decor and the abundant crowd.

You lean back in your chair, narrowing your eyes. "Wayne.” You have to try not to sneer.

You are acquainted with him, after all. His marks are always top of the class, and yours are always seconding. You’re at Gotham U entirely on scholarship, just having transferred from community college. You’re first in your family to go to college, period, and they were risking everything for you to be here. You had to be top of your class if you wanted to pursue your post-grad plans.

Always being second to this nepo-baby billionaire is a bitter knock to your self-esteem. You wince, feeling sharp pain on your ribcage. One you don’t need with all the other bitter knocks your classmates already give you.

You stare up at the man, wishing he hadn’t caught you in your seat. You blink, realizing that he isn't moving. "Wait, what did you say?" you ask.

“... I said, 'study with me.'" He elegantly lands in the seat across from you at the all-too-small table. "I’ll be sitting here.”

You gape at him.

“But– y-you don’t even like me…?” Damian had never spared you the time of day until … this day. You assumed you were a gnat to him at best. Just some brokie who managed to sneak his way into his school.

How utterly wrong you were.

Damian Wayne hadn’t expected to end up with anyone other than a woman, he supposed. It had been assumed of him during his childhood and he hadn’t questioned it. From a young age he had been aware of homosexuality, and that men could be attractive, but he hadn’t considered it for himself in any serious capacity.

Even Timothy coming out didn’t spur any curiosity from him. Despite his siblings teasing, his closeness to Jon was entirely platonic. So Damian just assumed, like the majority of the world, he was heterosexual. Until you had transferred into one of his classes and stole his breath away.

Damian’s eyes narrow and, if you can believe it, glimmer with interest. “I don’t recall ever saying that. For all you know, I could be quite fond of you.” His eyes lower to where your lips lie. “... Or at the very least, interested.”

You cheeks heat rise to your cheeks, before you flinch. There's no way. He didn’t mean it like that. Yet despite discerning his expression… Oh fuck, maybe he meant it like that? You panic, head snapping away from his. No– no. You are not going to be weird about this. You could have a friend here.

The last time you misinterpreted friendliness from your peers as romantic advances... Those bruises are still healing, still aching when you stretch and bend. Your stomach roils with hurt, fear, and betrayal – no. You weren’t going to repeat the same mistake this time. You’ve been ostracized from most of your peers by now. ‘Pervert’ and ‘predator’ they named you. But maybe… you could have a friend here.

In your silence, Damian finds tendrils of curiosity churning in his stomach. He wants desperately to talk to you. To hear you speak. To listen to you talk at length about the lectures he finds so droll, but you find rapturing. Test scores meant nothing. He may be better at memorizing the text, but he’s read your essays. He clears his throat, lifting his chin on instinct to feign confidence.

You look up at him shyly, before realizing you’ve been mulling in silence like a freak for the past few minutes. Damian doesn’t mind, having been able to openly admire you.

You cough, trying to ease the confusion thrumming in your veins. “... Well, fine. I could use a sounding board.”

“Shall we start with the next test review?” Damian offers, flipping open a book.

You perk up, having been about to suggest lighter reading rather than the dense, metaphysical chapters your professor recommended. You nod fervently, lips curling to Damian’s delight.

“Yes, please,” you say, metaphorical tag wagging.

New friend, new friend, you inwardly cheer.

Damian’s thoughts run considerably more romantic.

#yandere batfam #yandere damian wayne x reader #damian wayne x reader #yandere damian wayne #mine #maybe write a full fic on this someday i kinda like gay damian #maybe he deserves gay sex

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samoankpoper21 · 3 days

Text

JJK Men Proposing 💍

A/N: Bonus points to whoever gets the kdrama reference in Suguru's proposal aslkf;saj Enjoy~!!

Content Warnings: mid smut, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!, some cursing

Kento Nanami:

"Love?"

"Yes?"

"Let's take a trip this weekend"

"Ooh ok. What did you have in mind?"

"Malaysia." Your typing coming to a pause you peered at him from above your glasses. "Malaysia? That's so random babe. Why there?"

"I've always wanted to go." Taking one last glance at him you noticed his restlessness. 3 years being together you've learned to read Kento Nanami; his face may be stoic, expressionless to others, but you picked up on the way he gulped, his fingers clenching and unclenching. Choosing to ignore his restlessness, knowing in due time he'll eventually come around to letting you in to his inner monologue, you warmly smiled stretching your pudgy, stout arms above your head. "Sure Ken, let's do that. We both could use a break."

The plane ride there you noticed his restlessness increase. "Ken?" you wrapped your smaller hand over his much too large hand. "What's wrong babe? You've been restless since we got on the plane."

"I'll be fine."

"You sure?" Leaning forward to kiss your forehead he hummed a "Mhmm."

He grabbed both of your bags escorting you to the rental area. Driving to the hotel resort he placed his hand on top of your left hand giving it a squeeze. "What part of Malaysia are we staying at?"

"Kuantan."

"Ooh ok. Sounds cool. Wait...you didn't bring me all the way out here to kill me right?" Staring at you in his peripheral he chuckled shaking his head. "You watch too many 'true crime' documentaries."

"But it's true babe! Most serial killers upon their first kill get anxious and after they've killed their victim it's like a high to them." Pressing a kiss to your hand he chuckled again. "You need to go back to watching Korean dramas or anime or something," Squeezing your interwoven fingers he suggests, "Take a nap love. It's going to take almost 4 hours to get there."

"No, no I'm ok! Really!"

15 minutes later Nanami glanced your way chuckling at your head nodding, trying to fight sleep. "Sleep love."

"You sure babe? I don't want you to be up alone."

"I'll be fine."

"Mmkay. Just know I tried." He chuckled as you stifled a yawn, kissing his hand before leaning your chair back to rest.

After having checked into the resort, Kento had planned a spa day for the both of you where you both enjoyed full body massages, clay mask treatment, and the jet bath to yourselves. "Ngh! Ken," you shuddered, the water sloshing over the sides as he gripped your full hips guiding you up and down his throbbing length, his half lidded eyes going back and forth between your fucked out expression, full breasts, and pudgy tummy. "What if -ngh- w-we get caught?"

"Shh," Nanami shuddered as your gummy walls involuntary tightened around his cock. "Seems like you don't mind us getting caught pretty girl." Biting your lip trying to suppress your moans as Nanami's cock hit that sweet spot you groaned, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. "F-fuck Nanami, yes, yes, right there love." Nanami rolled his hips against yours hitting that sweet spot. Biting down on his shoulder you came your legs twitching as Nanami kept thrusting up into you. "Fuck," he growled, he too biting on your neck as he released his hot, sticky seed into you.

After dinner walking in hand in hand on the beach you stopped just short of where the waves could reach you, marveling at the sunset. The sky was painted in pretty hues of pink, orange, and purple. Closing your eyes inhaling the scent of the sea, reveling in the moment, the moment was briefly shattered with whizzes and whistles of fireworks. Looking up into the sky you gasped. "Nami, look! They're hearts!" turning to search for him you gasped upon seeing your boyfriend on one knee, small, red velvet box in hand. "Y/N, Kuantan has a special meaning to me. This is where I want to settle, build a home. I can't imagine building a home, my future, without you in it. Will you continue to build with me towards our future? Together?"

"Yes!" you shrieked, tackling him in the sand laughing. "Yes, yes, yes! A thousand times yes!"

Toji Fushiguro:

"Fuuuuck daddyyy 's too much." Toji had already made you cum three times, the first and third being from his tongue, the second from his fingers. You found yourself with your ass up, a mean arch in your back as Toji pounded into you. He loved fucking you from the back: watching the way your ass rippled every time his hips slammed against it, the way his balls swung hitting your folds and clit, your wide hips that he currently had a tight grip of, the stretch marks that adorned your thighs and belly, how loudly you were moaning at him hitting your g-spot, and how you always took him so well. With the way Toji was slamming his hips into your sopping cunt you felt yourself slowly slipping off the bed. Clawing your way attempting to move forward Toji slapped your ass, gripping the reddened flesh. "Stop running." Moaning you plead. "I-I'm gonna fall daddy."

"Then fall. As long as you stop running from this dick." He groaned as your tight walls clenched around him. "Fuck you're such a good slut fa' me. Getting turned on just 'cause I'm tellin' ya tah stop runnin'. Fuck momma bounce that ass back." Keeping your arch Toji stilled his thrusts watching the white ring around his cock slip in and out of your fat, juicy pussy, a slow steady plap plap plap sound filling the room, Toji grabbing a handful of your generous ass. He stilled you leaning over, his chest against your back, reaching into the drawer. Shuddering you knew he brought out the vibrator he graciously named 'Clittie'. "Gimme your left hand." Pushing yourself to balance on your right forearm you offered your left hand where he slipped a ring on. "T-Toji?"

"What? You gonna be with me or what?" Peering behind you locked eyes with him causing him to groan at your blissed out face mixed with light and love. "Your timing is so off." you chuckled. Grabbing your hips he slammed into you once again stating, "Fuck momma looks like you're stuck with me now. Whad'ya say huh?"

"Yes, yes, yes daddy! I'm all yours. Fuck I'm all yours daddy!"

"Good girl."

Choso:

He must be exhausted was your initial reaction upon meeting him at the dog shelter. Your manager tasked you with training the new, quiet hire, his baritone voice making your pussy clench. After working together you came to realize that (1) ain't nothing wrong with his eyes, (2) you grew fond of his sleepy eyes, finding them alluring, sexy even and (3) he reminded you of a big -lost- puppy. He would follow behind you closely, the heat from his body emanating, as you explained the tools and showed him the dogs.

Working together allowed you to build the rapport needed, learning and falling for the ins and out of Choso Kamo. Closing together one night the power went out, PG&E updating you both that it would take at least 3 hours before the power came back on. You found him in the play pen, all the dogs and puppies sleeping peacefully around him. Attempting to discreetly take his picture you cursed when the shutter sound went off, his eyes snapping open. "Sorry," you sheepishly offer. "You just looked too cute surrounded by all the dogs sleeping peacefully."

"Delete that."

"Whaaat? Come on Cho it looks really good though." you tease. Surprising you with his speed you found him in front of you smirking holding your phone above his tall frame. Jumping trying to reach your phone you whine. "Not fair dude. You're like 6 feet."

"Grow some inches then."

"Or you could put some in me."

"Huh?"

Attempting to cover your moans Choso bit your plush inner thighs, his tongue following shortly after. You looked to the sleeping dogs figures. "Ch-Cho," he swirled his tongue around your entrance, moving his way towards your clit. "Y-you think the dogs will mind?" Chuckling darkly he asked, "Now you're worried about the dogs? Where was all that cockiness from earlier?" Sucking your clit a moan ripped from your chest. "Choso please."

"What do you need baby girl?" he asked, spitting on your clit, watching it trail towards your clenching entrance. "Fuck me daddy."

A year later not much has changed except the constant fucking you and Choso did. Whenever Choso was in the mood your panties were pulled to the side as he stretched you out on his fat cock, his hot breath fanning your ear.

It was another closing shift but the rest of the team were there. You found it weird that everyone was still here considering it was only supposed to be you and Choso. "Y/N," your manager called out to you. "I need help in the play pen."

"Sure." Making your way to the play pen you were greeted by hordes of fur, giggling at the yapping, some of them jumping up to greet you. You noticed your manager and 2 of your coworkers sitting there giddy with anticipation. "What did you need help with boss?" She let a black chow chow puppy named Bo run to you, picking Bo up you noticed a red velvet box tied to its neck. Untying the red satin ribbon, opening the box you gasp recognizing his writing. "Will you marry me?"

"Turn around dummy." his baritone voice rang out. Quickly turning you found your boyfriend on one knee blushing furiously. "Aside from animals you were the first person to see me as a person. You make me feel welcome, warm, and loved. You have been like a light to my world and I can't see myself doing this life thing without you. Will you marry me Y/N?"

"Oh my god yes! Yes, yes, yes!"

"Are we almost there babe?" you huff out.

"Yup."

"That's what you said an hour ago."

"You're so dramatic." He chuckled.

"Babe you literally woke me up at the ass crack of dawn."

"I thought you liked how I woke you up." Your cheeks burning at the memory of Satoru and you cuddling when in your sleepy daze you felt him lifting your leg up thrusting into you, groaning at how wet you were for him. "Morning love," his morning voice sending shivers down your spine as one of his hands found purchase on your breast, the other on your plush hip as his hips rut into you sharply. Catching up to him you lightly smack him. "That's beside the point."

"Oh look you caught up." Holding his hand out to you you deeply inhaled the cold morning air, your lungs expanding. "You could see all the stars from up here." he gently observed. "Babe look! It's Orion's belt! Oh and the big dipper too!" Gently smiling your eyes continue scanning the starlit sky in search of familiar constellations. "Look down hunn'."

"Huh?" Peering down at the circular rooftop you exclaim. "Babe it's a heart!"

"What else do you see?"

"Ummm," you continue to scan the rooftops reading aloud. "W-I-L-L Y-O-U M-A-R-R-" gasping you turned to see him smiling widely. "First let me give you this." Handing you a certificate you saw that he had purchased a star near the edge of Orion's belt naming it after you. "Gojo," feeling your eyes tear up.

"I wanted to gift you the North Star but NASA said some bullshit 'bout how that star can never be bought. Y/N, I wanted to gift you the North Star because to me you shine the brightest, even on the days you don't feel like it. I have watched your light shine and transcend to others and I want to continue being part of that journey. Y/N, will you continue to be my north star while I continue being like the sun?"

"Only if you shine with me for thousands of years."

Geto Suguru:

"Love," Suguru called from your shared bathroom. "Babeeee." Standing in the doorway he watched as the blanket barely covered your naked sleeping form. You could sleep through anything. Light bulb going off in his head Suguru lay on his stomach, settling himself between your legs. Prying them open slowly he groaned at your glistening cunt. Pressing wet, open mouth kisses in your inner thighs he blew at your entrance watching you shiver. Teasing your already wet cunt he kissed around your opening. Laying his tongue flat, he parted your lips swirling his tongue around moaning at the taste of your essence, your musk scent mixed in with cocoa butter. Sucking, his mouth slowly moved up engulfing your clit giving it a tug. Moaning awake from your body heat you stir. "Babe?"

"Oh good! You're awake." He peeled his face away, your eyes growing dark at the sight of your arousal evident on his lips, chin,and nose. Trying to bring him closer he scooted away causing you to pout. "Sug?"

"Come on love. We have to go."

"But it's still dark out."

"I know but where I'm taking you you can only see this picture when the sun hits a 6."

"How you gonna leave me turned on?"

"I promise I'll make it up to you but we have to hurry. We only have 50 minutes and I don't want to get stuck in traffic." Groaning you reluctantly peeled yourself from the warmth of the bed throwing on jeans and a hoodie.

Quickly parking the car he grabbed your hand and ran with you towards the elevators of a merging company. Scanning your surroundings you were taken aback, a bit uncomfortable at how under dressed you felt. Getting off at the 17th floor he pulled you towards the staircase pulling you along the remaining 3 flights. Shouldering the door to the rooftop open you made it with 3 minutes to spare. Panting you ask, "Why didn't we just take the elevator all the way up?"

"For memory sake?"

"The fuck Sug." Quickly grabbing your hand he led you to the edge, heart hammering in his chest, he covered your eyes. 6AM hit, the rays of the sun slowly peeking over the city, it's warmth slowly seeping into your skin. Lowering his hands from your face he whispers, "Open your eyes love." Peeling your eyes you watch as the sun hit two billboards, turning them towards your direction; the first billboard reading, "Y/N let's continue making memories for eternity."; the second being, "Will you marry me?" Your hands clasping at your mouth you turn already crying. "Is that a yes?"

"Oh my god yes Sug! I love you! I love you so much!"

Ryomen Sukuna:

Sukuna's grip on your plump hips were sure to leave a bruise. He couldn't resist you especially since you were panting on his weeping cock, trying to fit all of him in. "You're a big girl I know you can do it."

"'s too big daddy."

"Oh?" Adjusting his hips he slammed into you causing your back to arch into him, your mouth agape in a silent 'O' shape. He chuckled licking, sucking, and biting at your neck making sure to leave a trail of hickies in his wake. Continuing with his rough pace you let out a garbled noise as you clung onto him, your head falling into his neck. "Come on pretty girl, can't do all the work myself." Peeling back to look at him, water decorating your lash line, he licked his lips shivering at the sight. He liked this sight of you, how pathetic you looked around his cock. Smirking and slowing his pace, his stroke still hitting deep he teased, "What? Dick got you dumb?" Surprising him, yourself included, you pushed against his chest laying him flat. Planting your feet on the bed, your fingers slowly trailing down the expanse of his chest, outlining his abs, you lift yourself a little more than half off of his deck and slam back down. "Fuck woman!"

"Who's the dumb one now?" You continue with that pace, Sukuna gritting his teeth. This was one of the many reasons he fell for you, you were the only one who was willing to challenge him to gain dominance, although he was always the victor. "Fuck baby just like that." he instructs with his eyes closed. The sound of your voluptuous ass smacking against his thick ,muscular thighs were making him go feral, wanting to empty his balls deep into your sweet cunt.

"Fuuuuck daddy your dick's so good."

"Yeah? You like getting fucked by this big dick?"

"Fuck yes! I wanna have your kids fuuuck."

"Let's get married first."

"Yes, yes, yes!" In the midst of your riding he procured a ring placing it on your finger. Gasping you squeal, "You were being for real?"

"Woman if you don't accept me-" leaning forward capturing his lips you say, "I'd be honored to be your wife Ryomen Sukuna."

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vizslasaber · 19 hours

Text

UNDERSTANDING ──── echo.

summary: in the middle of the night, echo finds you, hurt and exhausted and in need of an apology.

pairing: arc trooper echo x reader

word count: 1.6k

warnings: none! just a sprinkling of angst and grief.

a/n: i love echo so much & im so glad he’s okay as of the finale!! this takes place sometime around the early seasons, but after the season 1 episode “cornered.” also, i listened to waves by chloe moriondo while writing this!

You’re not sure what to think of Echo.

Most of the time, he’s quiet. When he does speak, it’s usually to enforce a rule, remind the group of their current plan, or to keep Wrecker in check. You’ve seen his softer side, with Omega and occasionally his brothers, and it’s rare but honestly endearing.

The thing about him that most irks you, however, is that he never wants to seem to interact with you.

Officially, Hunter is the group leader; ever since Clone Force 99 accepted you into their squad, that much has been clear. You’re the only non-clone—or “natborn” as the others refer to you—living on the Marauder. It’s been several months since you saved Omega from bounty hunters on your home planet of Pantora, and now, you’re as much a part of the Bad Batch as anyone else.

Except, you’re not a batcher. Not really.

Despite how much you care for your squadmates, it’s easy to feel separated from them at times. Easy to feel different. Most of the others have picked up on this by now, and often go to great lengths to make you feel like one of them.

Not Echo, though. He seems—wary of you, almost, and you’re not sure why. Once, you brought it up to Tech, who simply waved you off with one of his shrewd, knowledge-filled comments. “You are new here, you know. Some people are simply slower to open up than others.”

You, however, know that’s not the case. You’ve seen Echo with his brothers, and with Omega. He can be kind, and funny, and even angry. But to you… to you, he’s nothing but quiet.

For some time, you tried your hardest to be yourself around him—to crack your usual sarcastic jokes at his expense, to be friendly, like you are with the others. But the constant avoidance and clipped answers leave you increasingly confused and hurt.

So you withdrew from him, too.

It still bothers you, sometimes. But you’ve learned to brush it off.

Now, you sit in the cockpit, feet resting against the control panel. A ration bar—one of the good ones—rests in your hand. Every so often, as you watch the blue glow of hyperspace streak past the viewport, you take a bite of the ration bar.

You’re on first watch. Someone has to stay in the cockpit to oversee the ship’s journey back to Ord Mantell—and, since you still can’t fall asleep in hyperspace, you keep volunteering for the job. The cockpit is mostly dark. All the lights are off, and the viewport is dimmed. Anything brighter reminds you of how sleep-deprived you are, and so you’re content to sit in the blue gloom.

Leaning your head against the headrest of the pilot’s chair, you close your eyes. Your entire body feels heavy with exhaustion, but every time you try to drift off, the rumbling of the ship’s hyperdrive jerks you awake.

The sound of footsteps startles you. You open your eyes, leaning around the back of the chair to inspect what little part of the ship’s corridor you can see. You can hear the sounds of someone moving around by the small common area, but you can’t tell who it is.

Tech’s probably experimenting again, you think wryly, and settle back into your comfortable position.

Soon, though, the footsteps grow closer. Someone enters the cockpit with a tired sigh, placing something on one of the chairs nearer to the door. It sort of sounds like Hunter, but with the similarity between everyone’s voices, you can’t be sure.

The footsteps halt suddenly. You look up to find honey-coloured eyes surveying you with apprehension. In the dim light, awash with blue, you register the glint of a cybernetic headpiece.

“Oh,” you say, blinking up at Echo, “hi.”

Echo only grunts.

You frown, looking down at your hands, at your half-eaten ration bar. “It’s late,” you say quietly. “You, um—you should get some rest.”

When Echo answers, you don’t look up. He says, voice low and gravelly with sleep, “I slept for a couple hours.”

Slowly, you nod, fiddling with the foil wrapper of the ration bar. The cockpit falls silent; you wait for Echo to leave, but he stays still, his shadow falling over your tired frame.

You want to ask why he’s still here. You want to be rude, to ask him to leave so you can have some peace and quiet. But truthfully, he isn’t saying anything, or causing any disturbances, so instead you hold up your unfinished ration bar. “You want a bite?”

Echo blinks. It seems to take him a moment to process your question. Then, to your faint surprise, he nods. “Thank you,” he says as you hand him the ration bar wordlessly.

It’s a peace offering, of sorts.

He sits in the co-pilot’s chair and takes a hesitant bite, chewing slowly. You see his expression brighten—probably at the realization that this is one of the good ration bars, the kind that Hunter always says not to hog—then return to his usual neutral one.

You watch as he swallows. He hands you back the bar, holding out his hand, but you don’t take it.

“Why… why are you here?” you ask quietly.

As soon as the words leave your mouth, Echo drops his arm and breaks eye contact, looking almost embarrassed. Or maybe even ashamed.

Still, you wait for his answer. Several long, painful seconds pass before he says anything. When he speaks, it’s like he’s forcing out the words.

“I wanted to—” he pauses. His flesh hand fiddles with his metal one. “I wanted to apologize.”

You feel your breath hitch. Staring, you try not to gape. “What?” you say, whispering without meaning to. “I don’t—”

“I’ve been horrible to you,” Echo continues, voice steadier. “I didn’t mean to be so… withdrawn. I didn’t realize I was doing it. I… I hope you can forgive me.”

Instead of acknowledging his apology, you bite the inside of your cheek with uncertainty, then cross your arms over your chest. One of the others must have put him up to this. Probably Omega, or perhaps Hunter. Raising an eyebrow, you ask, “Who sent you?”

“No one!” Echo replies hurriedly, then presses his lips into a thin line. “I mean, Hunter told me that you—he said that—” He sighs. “I didn’t realize it on my own. But I came because I wanted to.”

You blink, cursing yourself when you feel your eyes sting. With a start, you realize that this is the most Echo has said to you since you joined the squad.

Taking in a breath, you wring your hands anxiously. “I just… I just don’t understand why.” You shrug. “You’re not the same with me. Not like how you are with the others.”

Echo swallows. “It’s not—”

“I just want to know what I did wrong.”

At that, Echo falls silent. Guilt permeates the air, enough that you can feel it.

“Hey,” Echo says, kinder than you’ve ever heard him. “Look at me.”

You do. His eyes, like lava, or maybe liquid gold, bore into you. It almost hurts to look.

“This,” he continues, gesturing to the space between you, “is not your fault.”

Against your will, a lone tear slips down your cheek. “So whose fault is it?” you whisper, barely loud enough to be heard over the ship’s engine

It’s obvious from the look on Echo’s face that he’s thinking of something—or someone—specific. Despite how much you want to, you don’t push.

You just wait.

“It’s my brother,” Echo finally murmurs, and you raise your eyebrows, quickly cycling through the rest of your squad. Hunter, Wrecker, Tech… maybe Crosshair? You can’t think what any of them, even the one who’s no longer a member of your group, have to do with you.

“Your... brother,” you repeat dumbly.

“Yes.” Echo nods. “Fives.”

Oh. A fellow soldier, then. Probably from before the war ended… and probably long dead.

Drawing in a shaky breath, you hastily wipe your cheek with your sleeve. “What—what about him?”

“You…” Echo shakes his head, then lets out a humourless chuckle as he turns to look at the viewport, at the swirling blues and whites and greys of hyperspace. When he speaks again, his voice is barely above a whisper. “You remind me of him.”

You blink.

Truthfully, you have no idea what to say to that. Luckily, Echo continues, saving you from having to come up with an answer.

“Your sense of humour, I mean. The sarcasm, the jokes.” He shrugs, and the light from the viewport catches on his cybernetic headpiece, glinting in the otherwise dim cockpit. “And… and the way you know people.”

“‘Know people’?” you echo, confused. “I’m not following.”

“You understand people,” Echo says, and finally looks at you again, eyes impossibly sad. “Somehow, without ever having experienced what others have gone through, you understand their pain—and you feel it with them.” He closes his eyes for a brief moment, then opens them again. “Fives used to do that too.”

And suddenly, as though a switch inside you has been flipped, it all makes sense. “And that’s why you’ve been avoiding me,” you realize, and Echo winces. “Because I remind you of him.”

“See?” The barest hint of a smile graces his lips. “You’re doing it now. And you’re not even trying.”

“I guess I never thought about it like that.”

“I’m sorry for everything,” Echo says. “I am. It just…”

“Hurts,” you finish, and Echo blinks, surprised. You smile softly. “I know you too, you know.” Reaching out, you take his flesh hand, gently prying it open and taking the ration bar. As Echo watches, you split the remaining piece in half and hand one to him. “And for what it’s worth—I forgive you.”

The shadows colouring Echo’s face suddenly seem lighter. He smiles, then—really smiles.

You take a bite of the ration bar and smile back.

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TAGS | @sweetsunflowerkisses @sarasxe @buckethead-over-heels @frietiemeloen @leotatombs @revengeisaconfesionofpain @hoeneyhoeney @idoubleswearimawriter @burningfieldof-clover @captain-rexs-babygirl @living-that-best-life @readeity @itspauvr @my-own-oracle @xlovingheartsx @seriowan @leotatombs @blueberry-9-pancakes @lucyysthings @idoubleswearimawriter @burningfieldof-clover @captain-rexs-babygirl

#star wars #tbb echo #tbb echo x reader #tbb echo x you #arc trooper echo #bad batch echo #the bad batch #the bad batch x reader #star wars the clone wars #arc trooper echo x reader #arc trooper fives #sw tcw #sw tbb

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heart-of-the-morningstar · 1 day

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Corruption fic - Last preview

Ok, last preview for this fic! Again, no active warnings here but I promise the finished product will be very fun~ ;)

When you regained consciousness, you felt the familiar pounding in your head after a heavy night of drinking. Begrudgingly you dragged yourself out of you bed and forced your way to your bathroom for a much needed shower. You realized when you glanced towards the mirror that you never changed out of your clothes from yesterday. In fact, you don't even remember how you got back to your room last night, Everything was such a blur, and it hurt to think with the major headache you were experiencing at the moment. The last thing you could recall was falling off the bar stool, the pain you felt in your shoulder was enough of a reminder. Once you stepped in the hot shower, you felt a little better, but only a little bit. You tried to rack your brain for answers, trying to remember exactly what happened after you fell. You ran your fingers through your hair, letting the water soak your aching body. But in doing so, something had clicked. That motion had unlocked a foggy memory. Your hair. Someone had run their hands through your hair last night, but you couldn't for the life of you remember who. It was gentle, soft, tender. But who would do that?

After a few minutes, you stepped out of the shower and threw on one of the sundresses you had hanging in your closet. You really didn't feel like putting a ton of effort into your clothing choices today. Hopefully Charlie would forgive you for skipping out on her planned activity today and let you recover. You realized after that initially thought that you didn't even know what time is was. Chances were you had already missed it. With a groan, you plopped down back onto the mattress, your hair still damp.

"What's the matter with me," you asked yourself. "How do I expect to be redeemed when all I do is sabotage my chances by getting wasted every night?" Your headache persisted as you laid in your bed, you almost wanted to cry from the pain. But then, you heard a soft knocking at your door. Charlie, you thought. More than likely she was checking in on you to make sure you were alright. "I'll be there in a second!" you called out. The volume of your own voice didn't help your hangover in the slightest. You grabbed one of the small pillows off your bed for comfort and trudged your way to your door. "I'm really sorry I slept in Charlie," you spoke as you turned the door handle, "it was a...really rough night for me and I-" you stopped completely once you opened the door fully. Charlie, in fact, was not the one who had knocked.

"Yeah, you really did get put through the ringer last night, didn't you?" Lucifer smiled at you. The pillow you held fell to the floor with a soft thud.

“Oh, I-I’m so sorry, sir!” You stuttered. “I-I thought you were Charlie! Did-Did she send you?”

Lucifer looked at you with a puzzled stare. “Uhh, no, no she didn’t. I told her what happened last night and let her know I’d check in on you like I promised.”

“Promised?” you asked, but Lucifer didn’t seem to hear you.

“And you don’t have to refer to me as “sir,” my dear, “Lucifer” is just fine! I mean, you used my name just fine last night!”

Your heart stopped. “L-Last night? Oh no…what…what happened last night?”

Lucifer gawked at your question. “Wait, do you not remember anything?” You shook your head timidly. “Oh dear…well, nothing bad happened, I promise! What’s the last thing you can remember doing?”

You looked down at the floor sheepishly, embarrassed to admit the real answer. “The last thing I can remember is falling off the bar stool and…landing on my face…”

Lucifer stood there and pondered for a few seconds before speaking again. “Do you mind if I come in?”

“Oh, umm, yeah, y-you can come in,” you agreed. You picked up the pillow you had dropped and opened the door for Lucifer to saunter in. “I’m sorry I look like a mess right now, I-I just got out of the shower and my hair isn’t completely dry yet and-”

“Hey, hey, it’s alright!” Lucifer interrupted. “You don’t need to apologize. You look lovely, in any case.”

You brought the pillow in your hands up to your face in an attempt to hide your blush. “T-Thank you,” your muffled voice came through the pillow. "I-If you want, you can sit down on my b-ahh fuck!" One hand came up to your forehead when you felt your head pounding from the pressure that's been building since you woke up. This was definitely one of your worst hangovers to date.

"Oh! Are you alright?" Lucifer asked, his voice laced with deep concern.

"My head..." you choked out. You made your way over to your bed, crawling up to the top and cradling the pillow in your arms "Hangovers are never really kind to me."

Lucifer frowned, seating himself down on the edge of your mattress next to you. You felt your face flare up again when you looked up at his worried expression. "Can I help you? I can alleviate the pain. You only need ask."

"Y-you can?"

"Sure! Angelic power and all that." His hand hovered just above your forehead. "May I?"

"Yes," you breathed. With that, you felt his soft hand make contact with your aching head. You felt a warm tingling sensation emanating from his touch. It didn't hurt nor was it unpleasant, it was healing. Without thinking, you leaned further into his touch, letting the warmth spread throughout your entire body. Your headache slowly began to fade away along with the fogginess that had been plaguing you since you woke up. As his touch lingered, you realized you were able to think more clearly than before, memories from last night started to become clearer and clearer. You remembered Lucifer had come to your rescue after you'd fallen. You remembered Alastor had shown up to mock you in your drunken stupor, only for Lucifer to step in and defend you. You remember sobbing with Lucifer while he comforted you. Then you remembered...

You shot straight up, your heart racing a million miles a second, with Lucifer throwing his hand back in surprise. "What? What happened? Did I hurt you?" Lucifer asked in a panic.

"I'm..." you began, "I'm starting to remember things from last night." You clutched the pillow tight to your chest, refusing to look in the fallen angel's direction. "Please tell me I didn't actually lay down in your lap..."

"Uhh, well...," You could tell from his response that that's exactly what had happened.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry!" you apologized. "I shouldn't have done that! I-I know I drank way too much last night, I should have stopped, I didn't realize that-"

Lucifer's hand immediately flew to your shoulder in an attempt to get you to stop you from completely spiraling. "Darling, you don't need to apologize for that! You weren't feeling great so you just, ya know, used me as a pillow. And besides, it's not like I disliked it either."

"W-What?!" you nearly shrieked. Another realization had hit you just then. "You! You were the one that was playing with my hair! That's the only thing I could remember when I woke up!" You buried your face in the pillow once more. "If I said anything embarrassing..."

You heard Lucifer swallow hard. "I guess uhh, it depends on your definition of the word."

"Oh God, please no..." you pleaded. "What did I say?"

Lucifer held up his hand again as an offering, a weary smile on his face. "I can help you to remember, if you wish."

#hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #lucifer smut #lucifer x reader #hazbin lucifer #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel smut #my writing #preview #i gotta stop writing at midnight i swear lmao

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euphorianz · 2 days

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Hi could I request yandere poly romantic, the Bridgerton brothers Anthony Colin Benedict headcannons x gender neutral reader, please and could you add a few quotes of what they would say please and thank you. 🥰😊❤️

❥Bridgerton brothers as obsessed partners

Pairings_ Anthony, Colin, Benedict x reader

possible triggers_ isolation, obsessive behavior, poly like relations

a/n_ thanks for requesting and your patience! I really like this concept and I hope you will too. This obviously has no sibling love in this so anyone who’s upset about this concept for that reason, there’s no need to worry. Please refer to the master list to understand the concept. Anyway feedback is welcome and wanted.

-the three of them are a terrifying combination. Not only do you have to deal with stalking, outbursts, and suffocating affection. You have three of the most influential men at the of the ton pining for your hand...

-at the start, I dont think either of them would be aware that they all have feelings for you. But when they do things become more of a game. All of them want your hand and they will do anything to gain it. Colin writes letters. Benedict flatters with witty remarks and portraits. Anthony splurges.

-separate from their archetypes in the other concepts, the Bridgerton brothers view you as a prize more than anything. Something to be won. Something to be savored and kept. It won't be until another rival shows that the three will work together. All are scary protective of you and will quickly swoop in if any possible sutor comes too close

-I feel as though at first they will present themselves as your friends. They'll be the ones to invite you to balls, spend time with you in the park, and invite you to family games. if possible, they want you to feel as though you can trust them. It's a total wolf in sheep's clothing thing. They want you to integrate into their life and the people most close to them know you.

-Things are horrible for you if you don't compile though. As a group, they would decide on humiliation to get you to come to them. Whether that be insulting your character or your family's name. They will find a way to drag you down to the point where you are crawling to them. "Aww, feeling friendly now are we?"

-marriage is completely out of the question for your dynamic (and the ton's social climate) with the brothers so you're more of a permanent house guest. Each brother will insist on spending one-on-one time with you and will throw a fit if they thinks one brother had one second longer than they did. So you will consequently be playing mediator making sure you give each brother the attention they want.

-with Colin he prefers to just hold you. I can just imagine him burying his nose in the crook of your neck for hours on end and being totally content. He just wants to bask in your presence and spend time with you :( He wants to take you across Europe but he's too paranoid for that so he'll just settle for taking you around the grounds on his horse while he whispers sweet nothing in your ear. "How does riding for the day sound... just you.. and me... all alone."

-Benedict is a whole different monster. He prides himself on being an artist so everything in his love language is centered around that ideal. You're his muse. his Mona Lisa to his da Vinci. The Juliet to his Romeo. He's just as clingy as Colin, but somewhat worse in a way. He'll have you pose for hours while muttering words of praise. He spends all of his time admiring you. He wants to feel you and crawl into your skin so the two of you can be one. He's poetic that way. "Sh- sh.. Hah- ha ha.. Now, now, don't move darling, you look so perfect at that angle."

-Now Anthony. He's strict when it comes to you. Always wanting you to say and do things in a certain way. He’s the most levelheaded out of the three but also the most isolating. He wants you by his side always and is completely bossy. Want to gaze out at the garden? no, you might catch the eye of another. Do you want to cut your own meat? no, you might choke so the servants must do it. The only word that truly describes him in this scenario is protective. "There's no need to move darling, I have everything covered."

-they all bring out the worst in each other but also weirdly they keep each other in check. You're way less likely to be yelled at or endure any extreme outburst from any of the brothers simply because the others will swoop in and shelter you. Competition is still present in your guy's relationship but when they are operating with each other is more harmless, like impressing you in family games, or seeing who can find the dress you'll like best. You basically just have three very unstable guard dogs at your side who will do anything, but let you leave, for you.

#bridgerton #bridgerton season 3 #bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x reader #yandere bridgerton #anthony x reader #dark anthony bridgerton #yandere anthony #yandere anthony x reader #yandere colin bridgerton x reader #yandere colin #colin x reader #yandere benedict x reader #dark benedict bridgeton #benedict bridgerton #benedict x reader #yandere benedict briderton

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thatslytherinbitch54 · 2 days

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Why do u ship drarry? (no hate btw just curious)

Thanks for the ask! I actually have a whole list of why lol, but for the sake of your sanity, I’ll just summarize it:

1: Enemies-to-lovers fucking hits hard. Forbidden love is also a nice trope.

2: They fight like an old married couple. (please get the reference.)

3: They’re both very invested in each other's life. For better or for worse, both Harry and Draco are often really concerned about what the other one is doing. They both take turns being really involved in one another’s business.

4: Draco wants to prove himself and he always craves Harry’s attention. His jealousy is shown consciously but yet subconsciously, it’s the need for Harry’s attention. Draco’s jealousy of Harry makes him obsessed. And well, Harry is canonically obsessed with Draco.

5: S e x u a l. T e n s i o n What? Who said that? (Harry and Draco are rivals, and rivalry is hot. The heat between them can be taken as sexual tension and can even lead to it.)

6: Subtext: “‘typical’ said Harry darkly. ‘Just what I always wanted. To make a fool of myself on a broomstick in front of Malfoy.’” - We never want to make a fool of ourselves in front of our crushes.

“Malfoy bent down to examine a shelf full of skulls. ‘everyone thinks he’s so smart, wonderful Potter with his scar and his broomstick-‘ ‘You have told me this at least a dozen times already.’ Said Mr. Malfoy, with a quelling look at his son.” -I mean this speaks for itself.

"’Bet you loved that, didn't you, Potter?’" said a voice Harry had no trouble recognizing. He straightened, and came face-to-face with Draco Malfoy.” - No trouble recognizing? You don’t say…

‘Besides, if it makes you feel any better, Malfoy is staying over for the holidays.’ - yes i know the context but still

“Malfoy stood on one side, the sunlight gleaming on his white-blond head. He caught Harry’s eyes and smirked.” - I’m sorry, this is so funny to me, why does Harry describe his arch nemesis like this? Lol

“Harry lay curled uncomfortably under the cloak to ensure that every inch of him remained hidden, and watched Pansy the sleek blond hair off Malfoy’s forehead, smirking as she did so, as though anyone would have loved to have been in her place.” - Harry would have loved to be in her place.

“His whole body revealed with his legs still curled absurdly into the cramped kneeling position. He couldn’t move a muscle; he could only gaze up at Malfoy, who smiled broadly.” - This without context 😭

“You’re getting a bit obsessed with Malfoy, Harry, I mean thinking of missing a match just to follow him…” - I mean…

“Harry, however, had never been less interested in quidditch; he was rapidly becoming obsessed with Draco Malfoy.” - An actual quote from the book.

“Harry did not sleep well that night. He lay awake for what felt like hours, wondering how Malfoy was using the Room of Requirements… Harry's mind worked feverishly and his dreams, when he finally fell asleep, were broken and disturbed by images of Malfoy.” - This is getting out of hand…

“‘what?’ Said Harry wheeling around to stare at her ‘He’s ill? What’s wrong with him?’” - Sounds like he cares lol

“Malfoy was screaming and holding Harry so tightly that It hurt.” - 💀💀💀

So to wrap this up: They’re rich, they’re hot, and they’re gay, so what’s not to love? So there you have it, a couple of reasons why I ship Drarry!

Thanks for the ask btw! ILYSM!!! 😘😘😘❤️❤️❤️

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interstellarlyinlove · 2 days

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Mutual pining (May 12th)

Word count: 700

@wolfstarmicrofic

Sirius screams into his pillow. James startles, knocking the pot of ink on the desk all over his admittedly horrible essay.

“Godric! What the hell?” James and Sirius are the only ones in their dorm room and Sirius has apparently gone crazy.

“Why won’t he talk to me?” Sirius asks, throwing the pillow on the floor. “Why won’t he just talk to me?”

“Remus literally talks to you all the time,” James says, and he doesn’t need to ask who Sirius is referring to because who else would it be? “And pick up that pillow. This room barely fits all of us when it is tidy.”

“But no, he doesn’t. James, he doesn’t. Not about the things that matter, anyway.” Sirius doesn’t say anything about the pillow but he does pick it up.

“What are the things that matter, again?” James asks, turning his chair around to look at Sirius.

Sirius blinks. “I just mean that–”

“What is the last thing you two talked about?”

“How peeling an orange is the epitome of love, apparently,” Sirius says. And he doesn’t even say it to be funny. He’s completely earnest.

James truly cannot believe that Remus and Sirius don’t know that they’re already dating. “You talked about– how did that conversation start?”

“I’m not really sure. But, see? I want to talk to Remus about things that matter. And things that don’t matter, as well, like love oranges. It was a really lovely conversation, James. Easy flowing and funny and–”

“Love oranges are funny?”

“Well, Remus is funny, so yeah.”

James nods. He doesn’t want to point out the obvious and tell Sirius to just ask Remus to marry him already if only to see how long it takes Sirius to figure out that Remus is obsessed with him as well.

“Can you help me make a list?”

“Sure,” James says. He tilts his head. “Of what?”

“Of like, conversation starters.”

“You need conversation prompts to talk with Remus?” James raises an eyebrow. Remus and Sirius literally don’t shut up.

“I need conversation prompts to talk about deep things with Remus.”

James starts laughing, and he can’t stop. “Deep things?”

“Oh, fuck off.”

Remus doesn’t sleep well the week before the full moon. James doesn’t sleep well, ever. They snuck out into the Forbidden Forest after Remus broke more quills than James could justify during their late-night library study session.

“What do you think my animagus would be?” Remus asks as they are walking. “And don’t say a wolf because I will gouge your eyes out.”

James laughs. “I wasn’t going to. An eagle.”

“That’s cool.”

James shrugs. “You’re cool. It makes sense.”

“Sometimes I feel that it’s unfair to Sirius that I like him,” Remus says, and James knows that is what Remus wanted to say in the first place. “That’s a stupid thing to say. I’m sorry.”

James flicks Remus’ head. “Don’t apologize, you twat.”

Remus smiles. “You’re the twat.”

“And it is a stupid thing to say. How is it unfair?”

“You know what I mean.”

“No, I don’t. At all.” James shakes his head. He hates that Remus thinks that. If only he could put his two friends in a room and force them to say these things to each other. “Sirius is lucky that you like him. I wish you liked me instead. Screw that guy, come make out with me.”

Remus laughs. “I would totally make out with you. But the heart wants what it wants." Remus pauses. "The heart is a bitch.”

“Is it the hair?” James asks. “I can totally grow my hair out if you want. Did you know my dad has this whole hair business empire thing? And if it’s the eyes there are spells for that! It definitely isn't the music talent, right? He’s the worst person in the choir. And I’m better at Quidditch.”

Remus whistles. “You really are the whole package, Jamie.”

“Damn right!”

“It's the Sirius,” Remus says, then he groans. “Wow. That’s humiliating. I can’t believe I actually said that.”

James pats Remus’ back. “It happens in the best of families, I’m afraid.” Remus chuckles and James really hopes Remus and Sirius figure it out soon.

#Barbie has a great day everyday #Ken only has a great day when Barbie looks at him #Except Remus and Sirius only have great days when the other looks at them <3 #also Remus peeling oranges <3 for the people he loves <3 #also angsty Remus sort of spawns out of nowhere like that's really not what I had in mind lol #also also James <3 #just James loml wonderful friend best quidditch player hair empire heir <3 #remus x sirius #remus lupin #sirius black #james potter #marauders era #my writing

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guessimwritingficsagain · 2 days

Text

I didn't know what I wanted (until I wanted you)

Summary : You save Joel Miller's life on patrol. He owes you and you really wanna suck his dick. And maybe at some point you both fall in love. Joel Miller/Reader.

Warnings : Mature content, MDNI, pining, references to anal.

Tags : Just ask.

———

It was a beautiful, sunny day, when you made the decision. You didn’t know why that was what got your attention- but the sun was shining, no clouds in the sky, and you could feel a slight breeze on your skin.

That was a lie.

You knew why the weather got your attention.

Everything would have gotten your attention, today, because Joel Miller owed you and you were about to collect and that put you on edge, skin sensitive, fingers drumming nervously on your thigh.

Because the whole thing was about to go very right, or very wrong.

———

It had been a nasty affair, the two of you surrounded by four clickers. Killing the first two had been no problem but the third had been a bit of a beast, with you trying not to get overwhelmed by fear. When you finally got it, you found Joel struggling with the fourth one.

Its teeth really too close to Joel’s neck.

You put a knife in its throat before it could sink its teeth in Joel.

That’s when he grunted :

I owe you for that one.

When Jackson came into view, he insisted :

‘Seriously, you need anything, you come to me. ’s the least I can do after you savin’ my skin out there.’

When your shower started leaking you asked for his help, and, as an afterthought, a joke really, you said to him :

‘Thanks, guess your debt is paid.’

Joel grunted, shook his head. Apparently a leaking shower was no match for saving someone from a clicker and he took his debt very seriously.

And you’d watched him, you’d watched the muscles on his back moving as he easily fixed your shower, entranced by how skilled he was. Confident. Fingers thick and strong around the tools, clearly knowing what he was doing.

It gave you an idea, all that.

An idea that could very wrong. Or right.

———

Joel opened the door with a surprised grunt - his favorite way of communication, grunting.

‘Want somethin’ to drink ?’ He asked, already on his way to the kitchen.

‘Actually, I’ve come to collect.’

‘Collect ?’

‘Your debt.’

He froze, shoulders tense, body ready to snap and after a second, turned around :

‘What do y’need, did someone hurt you ? Tell me and I’ll-‘

‘I want to suck your cock.’ You interrupted.

Plain and simple. Easy. Wrong, also, that was not exactly what you wanted. But Joel was watching you, his face blank, so you added :

‘Actually, no, that’s not quite right. I want you to fuck my mouth. If you’re interested.’

You shrugged, then, as if you were not casually propositioning your favorite patrol partner. You watched him swallow, switch on his feet, his gaze purposely away from you. And just as you thought you were about to get a very awkward but polite dismissal you heard

‘You want me to fuck your mouth ?’

You shrugged, said yes.

A beat of silence, then

‘How is that me payin’ my debt to ya, darlin’ ?’

‘Because I really want to.’ You answered. ’’Cause it’ll make me happy.’

Joel moved, then. Went to sit on the couch.

‘Lock the door, will y’a ?’

You did and turned around to see him legs spread, a space between them just for you.

‘You wanna be dressed for this or you wanna take your clothes off ?’ He asked, head slightly tilted to the side, eyes assessing you like he hadn’t really seen you before.

Your answer was a breathy

‘However you like it.’

He hummed, looked at you a bit more, and then

‘Off. Take them off, darlin’’.

Your undressing was not for show- a quick, desperate thing, that was stopped by Joel as you were about to remove your underwear :

‘You’re wet ?’ He asked.

You nodded.

He hummed again.

‘Keep ‘em on, the panties.’

You sank down on your knees and reached for his belt buckle, freed his cock and took a second, there, to assess his size and wet your mouth, collecting saliva to make sure to make it good for him, both hands on his thighs.

‘If you want me to fuck that mouth of yours, Darlin’, you’re gonna put your hands behind your back and open that sweet little mouth and take it.’

You nodded, did exactly as asked and felt his hand on the back of your head, pushing you forward. You opened up, ready for it, when the pressure stopped and you heard

‘Is this really gonna make you happy ?’

You looked up to see his eyes looking far away, intent at not looking at you.

‘Joel’ you muttered, ‘you are going to shove that dick down my throat and I will come, trust me. I really really want that.’

So he did. He pushed, and you welcomed the big, fat heat of him into your mouth. One of your hands instantly went to your cunt, inside your underwear, and you shoved two fingers inside yourself as he lead your head into a rhythm that had you gagging a bit. You let yourself feel the weight of his cock, let yourself get lost in the back and forth his hand was forcing his hand to do until he ripped his cock from you and asked :

‘You touchin’ yourself ? You really doin’ that ?’

Your answer was a whiny please Joel and he shoved his dick back into your mouth, bringing your head down as he thrusted his hips up. You came without warning, rubbing yourself to the frantic rhythm of Joel slamming his cock in and out, your orgasm sneaking up on you when Joel babbled

God, I’m gonna come. I’m gonna- You need to get off, I’m gonna-

And came into your mouth, salty, sweaty, sticky, and you swallowed it all, and kept his dick into your mouth for a beat, you breathing heavily through your noise while he matched your pace, mouth open, head laid back on the couch.

When you let his cock out of your mouth he asked :

‘You came, right ? ‘Cause if you didn’t we gotta make it right.’

You considered lying, because the idea of whatever he was thinking felt good, but you shook your head, instead, and got up on shaky legs. He hooked a finger in your underwear to keep you in place. Tugged slightly.

‘Give them to me. Your panties.’

You laughed at that, thankful for the absence of awkwardness, and took your underwear off as you answered :

‘You’re a dirty old man.’

He laughed :

‘Baby, you’re the one who saved my life and asked me to fuck your throat as a favor. I’d say you’re the dirty one.’

Stark naked in front of him, you took a second to look at him, still dressed, cock out, as he took a second to look at you. You climbed on the couch, then, knees on each side of his frame, caught his jaw, and slowly kissed him before saying thank you.

You dressed and left.

———

Patrol with Joel was always quiet, and today was no exception, until

‘You suck a lot of dicks in Jackson ?’

It was said in a very matter-of-fact kind of way, no judgement at all. Curiosity, really. He was watching right ahead, unbothered, as your horses rode along each other.

‘Nah’, you answered truthfully. ‘You’re the first one.’

He hummed. A beat, then

‘Wanna do it some more ?’

‘Suck your dick ?’ You asked, genuine (and you wouldn’t admit it but the idea of doing anything with Joel Miller got your really fucking wet so you would say yes to anything but he didn’t need to know that).

‘Everythin’’, He answered, simply, like he didn’t make your insides burn. ‘I have a feelin’. I have a feelin’ you like being told what to do, right ?’

And fuck, fuck, you were- he was right but you were there on patrol riding a horse and he made you wet just saying that.

You nodded and he went on, never really looking at you, jut scanning his surroundings :

‘Listen, I might not be the best option for you. I’m not the best option for anyone. But you wanna someone who has demands, and I have a bunch. We do this ? You take what I give when I give it and however I give it, alright ?’

Jesus fucking Christ.

You nodded again.

‘Words.’ He demanded, sternly.

‘Yeah, okay.’ You muttered.

He assessed you for a moment, wistful.

‘You wet, right now ? Did I make you wet ?’

‘Yeah, you did.’

‘Show me.’

Your brain stopped, at that. Show him ? Joel was just looking at you, patient. After a beat, you fumbled with your belt and dipped two fingers into your wet cunt. When you took your hand out of your pants he grabbed your wrist, inspected the fingers, and demanded :

‘Clean them up.’

And maybe your brain had been rewired because without question you brought your fingers to your mouth and sucked on them. The second they left your mouth a hand grabbed your wrist and put your fingers in his mouth. When he let you go, he asked :

‘You touch yourself a lot ?’

Startled, you answered a shy yes.

‘How ?’ He pressed.

‘I- I like to have- I like to have a toy ? There’s no battery but I like the feeling, and so- well I have the toy inside and I touch myself.’

‘What do you touch ?’

Here he was, Joel Miller, asking you how you got off, looking around, on patrol, like he was talking about the weather.

‘My- my clit. I touch it.’

‘With the toy inside.’

‘Yes- yes, with the toy inside.’

Joel hummed, pondered, and announced

‘When we go home, you’re gonna go to yours, get undressed. I want you on your bed. No toy this time. I’ll put my fingers in you, to help. But you’re gonna show me how you like it. You gonna touch yourself for me and show me.’

———

You’re surprisingly at ease when Joel showed up. You were as he’d asked, naked, on the bed- trembling with anticipation. The look on his face when he walked through the door-

‘Oh, baby. Wanna touch yourself ?’ He cooed.

Except you didn’t want to. You wanted his cock. You wanted him and you said so.

‘No, baby’ he shook his head, stern, ‘I told you, I’m gonna take care o’ you but it’s how I want it, when I want it.’

‘Besides’, he added, sliding in between your open legs, ‘how can I treat you right if I don’t know exactly how you like it ?’

He took your hand, then, and put it between your legs.

‘Touch yourself like you’re alone.’ He demanded. ‘Promise I’ll help but I need you to show me.’ He cooed, a cheek resting on your thigh.

So you did what he’d asked, you started touching yourself and you were so, so far gone that-

A hand grabbed your wrist.

‘You’re not very gentle with that pussy of yours’, Joel tutted.

‘You wanted to see how I liked it’, you managed to gasp.

‘Change of plan, then’ He answered, face serious, taking away your hand. The two fingers he put inside you made you almost cry.

‘You gonna get your hand back here and you’re gonna go slow. Slow, you understand ? And while you do that you gonna tell me what you like, starting’ with the fact that you like to do what you’re told. Understood ?’

You nodded, and there was a thought, somewhere, not even a warning but a fact : that man has made me dumb. Could do whatever.

Could do whatever but you trusted him.

Slowly, you circled your clit, and, voice shaking, started :

‘I like to do what I’m told.’

Joel nodded, eyes on your pussy.

‘What else, baby ?’

‘I like- I- spanking ?’

‘Sounded like a question, baby.’

You shook your head, your fingers stopping for a second on your clit.

‘No, I like it, I just don’t know what you like so it’s just- it’s weird you know.’

You shrugged, an awkward thing considering you had a hand between your legs and Joel had two fingers in your pussy. He shook his head, though :

‘Not weird. Wanna know what I like ? Wanna please me ?’

You nodded, eagerly, until a harsh slap on your hip made you jump.

‘Not a very good listener, are you ? I told you : you’re gonna take how I want it and when I want it, and I wanna know exactly what you like. Because that’s what I like. So let’s start again, baby, from the beginning. What do you like ?’

‘I- I like- I like to be told what to to’, you answered, your hand back between your legs. ‘I like to be spanked. Could you please-‘

God, how could you be cock-dumb without a cock ?

You took a breath and added, your voice breathy :

‘Could you spit on me, please ?’

‘Spit where ?’ Joel seemed really unbothered by all this, and it was unfair.

‘My pussy- please, spit on it.’

‘What, you think you’re not wet enough ?’

‘No- no, but I want it.’

Joel took your wrist again, and asked :

‘So, that’s a thing you like ?’

You tried to shake yourself out of his grip while you mumbled :

‘Yes, yes I like it.’

As he din’t let go you admitted :

‘I like it. I like you spitting on me.’

And he spit. Your fingers worked you clit again and somehow from then on it was like something so tremendous was building inside of your that you had no control over yourself-

‘Anal, I like it- I mean anal play.’

‘You don’t want my cock inside, then.’ He answered, his face still between your thighs. And you shook your head, because the truth was that Joel Miller could put his cock wherever he wanted- he’d have no complaints from you.

When you came, you came hard.

———

When it happens, you don’t see it coming.

It’s a quiet affair, Joel and you. You think- you assume- he doesn’t want to talk about it. Doesn’t want people to know. You think he’s fucking other people, and maybe you should too. Maybe you should get it out of your system, this whole stupid ‘I’m in love with Joel Miller’ thing.

You’re at the Bison when it happens. Tommy, Maria, Ellie and Joel are having dinner at a table and you’re- well, you’re on your own, so you go straight to the bar, sit there and order a drink. And then a man, called James or Jim, you’re not sure you know, starts talking to you.

He’s nice.

Too nice.

Probably missionary-only.

You talk for a few minutes but when he takes a step closer to you, that’s when it happens.

A hand wraps itself on your hip, and slowly moves to grasp your ass. You don’t recoil because you recognize it- the warmth of it and the sheer size of it. A kiss is pressed to your temple as Joel says :

‘Hey Baby, we’re waiting for you.’

Jim-or-James immediately leaves and you’re left with Joel, whispering against your temple :

‘What the fuck was that ?’

You want to answer

What the fuck are we ?

But he continues :

‘Wanna make me jealous, baby ? Staying out there at the bar, talking with men who have no business talkin’ to you instead of joining us ?’

You shrug

‘Didn’t know that I was welcome.’ You offer.

There’s a beat, there- more than a beat, actually. Joel looks at you in a way- well, you don’t understand it. Shakes his head.

Stares again.

Reaches out.

Mumbles

‘I’m a fuckin’ idiot.’

Grabs your hand and make you sit down with his family, arm around your shoulder the whole meal, thumb tracing mindless patterns on your shoulder. When Ellie is distracted by a friend, and Tommy and Maria are gone to get a refill, he whispers into your neck :

‘I should spank you ‘till your ass is red but you’d enjoy it. Should take your ass but you’d enjoy it too. I think I shouldn’t touch you, give you a lesson or somethin’’.

You’re wet. You’re wet and you want him and you know enough about him to know what makes him tick- hell, you know what he looks like in the morning, eyes heavy with sleep, hand absent-mindedly scratching his stomach, so soft it makes you want to cry.

So you’re searching for a comeback, something sharp and smart, when his nose nuzzles your ear and he whispers

‘I love you.’

And really all you want to do is bury yourself in him, never let him go, but that’s not possible. You also want to climb him like a tree and kiss him forever but that’s not appropriate. So you settle with

‘I love you too.’

And then, because you think you deserve it and it makes you happy :

‘I want you to fuck my mouth.’

———

Taglist

@pedritobalmando @amidjarin @ajeff855 @justpedropascal @sara-alonso @sarahjkl82-blog @amidjarin @sara-alonso@justpedropasc@mrsbentallmadge @farfromjustordinary @hnt-escape @kirsteng42

#joel miller/reader #joel miller x reader

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robo-milky · 2 days

Note

“Hey, Carrots!

No need to look so offended, I’m not here to cause any trouble, you know~. No favors to ask of either. It’s your special day, isn’t it? It is! So I came by to give you a present.

…Yeah, okay, it’s not really much, but it’s a gift nonetheless. Coupon for a special pop for the birthday girl~. You have a favorite flavor or something? I’ll try making it into a pop for you. A dozen for free! I’m real kind, I know.

Oh, and before I forgot. You know Ashi, don’t you? Poor girl couldn’t make it today, so she asked me to hand you a gift bag in her stead. Proves my trustworthiness, doesn’t it? Heh.

No need to worry, I didn’t peek at it… Hold some higher standards for me, would you?”

Niko hands over the bag. It’s a cute, pink, petite bag with cat decorations on it. It holds some resemblance to the feline holding it herself.

Grabbing what’s inside, there’s a little drawing with a note attached. It’s written with words and symbols that seem impossible to verbalize, but somehow it’s easy to imagine a certain brunette bringing life to them…

Clochey! HBD fam!~ Super bummed I couldn’t make it, but I hope this prezzie has enough of my energy baked into it that it feels like I’m there! LMK ASAP ☆

I wanted to send you a cute lil’ message ‘cuz I’m real thankful for us being friends, YK? Even tho we aren’t super buddy buddy, I still totally enjoy your company. Eppy tells me enough about you that it basically feels like I’m hanging with you myself!

Anyway~ I wanted to gift smth more personalized for you, so I drew up a little drawing! It’s kinda like a postcard, but I tried putting one of your fave things on it ♡ I hope you enjoy!~

We should SO get talkin’ again soonsies! Wishin you a happy birthday and many more with a certain huntsman <3

Sincerely, Ashi ♪

Cloche hears a chuckle after she’s done reading the note.

“Wow, Carrots, your face is a little red… Wonder what Ashi stirred up for you to get you, the cold clawed kitty to get lookin’ like that. Well, privacy is privacy. Guess that’s my cue to leave.

Here’s hoping you catch a break from all the trouble around campus, hm? Enjoy your day~.”

HAPPY BDAY CHRIS!!!!!!! I HOPE YOUR DAY AND WEEK AND TBH MONTH IS SO BANGER. ITS SO DESERVED!!!!!!! 🫶 it’s been SO nice being your moot for like?? WHAT??? TWO YEARS OR SMTH??? TIME IS SO CRAZY. it’s been such a treat being able to interact n talk w you since the beginning!!! I GET SUPER HAPPY WHENEVER I SEE YOU IN MY NOTIFS <333 HBD again and I hope life treats you well!!!!! 🙏 blessing your pulls and turning them into pomepulls……….. tehepero

[Cloche’ Birthday Bash] *them referring to our dear freshmen

Okay first of all… ASHIIIIIII YOU’RE GONNA KILL ME I SWEAR !!! THE FACT THAT YOU SENT THIS SO EARLY??!?! THE INTERACTION IS EVERYTHING! I JUST LOVE HOW THIS PLAYS OUT SO NATURALLY- Fr, Niko just waltzing into Ramshackle then dipping- aND THE GORGEOUS GORGEOUS ROOKLOCHE ART- LITERALLY SCREAMING OVER THE POSE AND DETAILS- YOU SERIOUSLY OUT DID YOURSELF FOR THIS ONE! Rook carrying her and Cloche grabbing on to him to get closer- SAVANACLAW ROOK MY BELOVED- Muscle man frrrr- Ashi really caught on to the cat maid’s staring during Chapter 7 huh. AND THE DOODLES ON RHE SIDES ARE TOO CUTE- 😩

Epel yapping on about Cloche and totally not suspiciously asking Ashi about her roommate- Ashi internally sweating bullets when Epel doesn’t realize that everything he describes is the cat maid making up excuses to avoid him-

Also take this… Cloche walking up to Niko days later and asking for a bone marrow pop, and it takes Niko a few seconds to realize it was a joke 😭😭 Slow burn friendship trust-

Really, it’s so wild that it’s been 2 years- So glad to have you here and to celebrate with you again !! I think you really blessed my pome pulls with this one- seriously- man came on the 30th pull twice- Ilyyyyy If makes me super happy to see you in my notifs as well and may we continue to interact in the future!

#crying sobbing thank you #cloche’ birthday bash 🎊#oc: cloche🎊#mutuals 🎊#rookloche #cat scratches 🌸#niko cimarron #ashi tamadai #twisted wonderland #twst #twst oc #twst ocs #others ocs #twst yuu #twst yuusona #oc interactions #mutuals art

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zorosprincess · 3 days

Text

Two Week Notice

PAIRING - Oikawa Tooru x Reader WC - 1.2K GENRE - Angst SYNOPSIS - You think that being in love with you felt like a job to him. Not something he really wanted, just something you had to do. You didn't have to tell me, I knew that you would leave.

PREV PART | MASTERLIST | NEXT PART

You knew you never wanted to see Oikawa Tooru after the first time. That you never wanted to date him or love him or trust him. You knew that the second you met him.

But he convinced you to ignore that initial decision. He proved himself. Time and time again. Convinced you of his seriousness. Dated you. Made you fall in love with him. Made you trust him.

Looking back now, you should have seen it coming. The end. The inevitable end you'd seen from the very beginning. The one you learned to ignore.

You should have noticed that the way Tooru loved changed after nearly 3 years together. How it stopped being something that he did actively.

There’s a difference, you've learned. Between being loved actively and being loved passively.

Actively loving. Falling in love over and over again. Every action breathing commitment and sincerity. The acknowledgement that you will never in your life stop falling in love with them.

Passively loving. Loving someone, who they are and what they’ve done. Not what they could be and could do. Knowing you will never stop being in love with someone, even when you’ve stopped falling.

Sometimes, without a healthy mix between the two… passively loving someone feels more like a job. That’s what you're sure Tooru felt at the end. That being in love with you felt like a job.

You're sure it’s not what he wanted, not anymore at least, just something that he had to do, to keep up with the promises he'd made, the responsibilities he'd made his own when he stepped into this relationship.

Passive love without active love is like a job. You go in, you complete your tasks and do your chores, follow routines. You give them hugs and kisses, you bring them gifts, you assure them that you’re there no matter what, soothe them when you’re crying.

And god does it feel good for a while, its fulfilling, a job well-done seeing that you’ve made something better. That you've built a relationship, a beautiful relationship.

But really, truly, nothing feels as good as going home at the end of your day at a job. Not having to have that responsibility anymore.

You suppose that if you're referring to his love feeling like a job, it's only fitting that the signed you ignored leading to the end should have been his two week notice. Even if it wasn't something explicit.

Should have noticed the small things, abbreviations in sentiments. 'Love you' in place of 'I love you.' Things you'd deliberately ignored.

What should have warned you, really, was the argument you had just two weeks before the end.

“Please tell me you won’t be disappointed in me if I can’t do it. If I don’t pass.”

You'd been crying on the floor of your half-packed closet. Trying to pack both his and your things into boxes to prepare for moving apartments.

The stress was overwhelming you, trying to explain why you couldn't bring yourself to finish the biggest exam of your life. The exam you needed to finish, to pass in order to get the job you'd been offered.

The fear of disappointing anyone weighed on you, held you down. A confession you'd just made to him.

"I'm not going to tell you that." He was standing above you and your body seemed to freeze as his voice floated down. "I would be disappointed." His usually soft and playful voice had taken a cold edge. One you'd never heard directed to you, only ever on the court with opponents. He looked annoyed.

You tried to tell yourself you were overreacting. Just tough love, you convinced yourself.

"What?" You tried to ignore the crack in your voice as you looked up at him. You looked at him, and he couldn't even look at you.

"I would be disappointed. Because you wouldn't have even tried." It felt like the worst thing he could say to you. You wouldn't have even tried. The worst offense in the eyes of Oikawa Tooru. The king of trying and overtrying until he was run down and broken.

"I'm done telling you that I wouldn't be disappointed in you. I would be, because you've had plenty of time to do it. If you fail and don't get this job; yeah, I'll be disappointed in you."

That should have been his two week notice. His resignation. The 'I'm done' that didn't slip past his lips.

You should have known. That's what you kept telling yourself now. You'd spent at least a month by the time he left, asking if you two were okay. If you needed to help or change or fix anything. He shouldn't have had to tell you, you knew. You knew he would leave. You should have known.

If there was one thing you'd learned from working in minimum wage for the last few years, it was that if people wanna leave, you should let them leave. Making them stay just makes them resent you and the entire situation.

You can't help but wonder if that was what happened with Tooru. If he wanted to leave way before he truly did. If he resented you now.

You'd never ask. Not in a million years. It isn't even really your business anymore. You suppose that you didn't truly need to know why Tooru wanted to go, only that he didn't want to stay.

He had given that unspoken two week notice. The kind you give at a job you know that you'll be leaving. Where you stop doing the maintenance to keep up the appearance. Where you work slower and respond less. Don't pick up the phone when they try to get ahold of you on your day off.

His actual resignation came silently. Like a no-call, no-show to a shift. The kind where your boss has to call and ask 'hey are you coming in today?' only to get your voicemail or your reply that you, in fact, will never be in again.

It came as a pause in the conversation. A 'Tooru, why aren't you replying?'

It came in response to the question you had to ask. A 'are you breaking up with me?'

Only to get silence. Only to get his reply that he, in face, was done.

God was it infuriating. Like learning your best worker was actually just as flaky as the previous ones. That he wouldn't pick up when you called or answer any texts. That he'd leave silently instead of giving the respect of letting you know.

He made you feel just like a job. All the effort and time you put into trying to be better for him, for your relationship. All of that thrown out the window, disregarded. Overworked. Underpaid.

Yeah, maybe Tooru resented you at the end. Saw you as a job, something to test his patience, to give him more skills that would boost his resume for the next application.

Maybe he stayed to have something where he felt like he did a good thing... that because he worked hard for a while it would make it hurt less.

And his last sentiment. His 'this is the healthiest breakup I've ever had.'

Yeah. That one hurt you too.

a/n thanks for coming to the free therapy of fictionalizing my irl breakup experiences. based on "Two Week Notice" by Leanna Firestone

TAGLIST - OPEN @all-in-the-fandoms @pearl-blue-musings

#oikawa fluff #oikawa toru fluff #oikawa x reader #oikawa toru x reader #oikawa fanfiction #oikawa toru fanfiction #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #𓇻 Desiderium

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