#he's a stickler for rules that make sense

[yakourinka]

i've got an idea. send him in

to deal with the bank. he can do it.

[cottonraincoat]

not sure if this will make any sense to anyone but I'm cracking myself up: the hume - kant - nietzsche lineage matching qui-gon - obi-wan - anakin

[supercutszns]

a place with you; luke castellan

wc: 2.8k (got a little carried away whoops)

pairing: luke castellan x f! reader

synopsis: luke is used to people coming in and out of hermes’ cabin without a second thought. so when you’re having a hard time adjusting to camp life, he doesn’t expect you to stick by his side, even after you’re claimed.

warnings/notes: shy reader going through a tough time, hurt/comfort, pining, kisses, fluff, potential ooc luke i don’t know what i’m doing, most of this is prob inaccurate lol, i got wayyy too attatched to this i am sorry, title inspired by dragon eyes by adrianne lenker

Luke Castellan is the son of a messenger. He’s used to delivering, passing things along, letting them enter his life and leave him. Sometimes it makes him angry. At his father, at the world, at himself.

So when you passed through the Hermes cabin for the inevitable few weeks before getting claimed by your Godly parent, the last thing Luke expected was for you to stay.

When you first got to camp you were terrified. Luke remembers that much. He can still picture you in Chiron’s towering shadow as he led you up to Hermes cabin. He gave you the usual spiel about the cabin, the land of the unclaimed, but it clearly hadn’t quelled your nerves. You were wringing your fingers together when Luke first spotted you, your eyes blown wide in what he knew as shock and a sort of . . . grief. For a life you’d left for what Luke knows as a life you’d never really have. He’d seen it in so many campers before you. He’d see it many times after.

“This is Luke, Hermes’ head counsellor and one of Camp Half-Blood’s finest,” Chiron pointed him out to you at the entrance. After Chiron introduced you, Luke held your name in his memory. Not because there was anything particularly intriguing about you at first, to be honest, because he’d seen a lot of people like you that needed help settling in (although maybe not many his age). It was harder for some people to adjust than most. He knew that better than anyone.

“Nice to meet you,” he stuck out his hand for you to shake after Chiron left. “I’m Luke.”

You sniffed, shaking it without looking at him. You were so, so embarrassed. This whole time you’d been too stupidly overwhelmed to process anything. Why was this so hard for you? Was it this hard for everyone? “Hi,” you managed, and that was it.

Now, weeks after your first meeting, you’ve concluded that it was not, in fact, this hard for everyone. The camp is crowded but full of life. You’ve never seen more happy kids in your life. There’s a sense of community on the wind.

So why can’t you feel it? Why is it so hard to connect with people? To participate in the fun? Everywhere you look there’s people but it’s all just so . . . lonely. You don’t fit. You’re lost.

Luke wakes up at night when the cabin door creaks open. He’s already tossing, so it’s no surprise he catches it. Unfortunately, he’s supposed to be a good counsellor—sneaking out at night is against the rules, and you’ve gotta reign the strays back in before they cause a ruckus. Sure, Luke’s not exactly a stickler for the law, but the least he owes is to make sure everyone’s safe.

Groaning, he draws himself out of the comfort of his bunk but doesn’t get far when he spots a familiar silhouette slipping out the door. He knows it’s you. He’s been hearing crying at night, and this is confirming his suspicions. It makes him ache in a million different places. Every time he thought about approaching you he shut himself down almost instantly, because who the hell wants some random guy coming up to them in the middle of the night and drawing attention?

This time, though, he’s a little worried.

It’s chilly tonight but not too bad, especially when you’re huddled up in a ball on a hill in front of the lake, grass tickling your ankles. Your tears keep you warm.

It’s a sorrow that feels bottomless. You don’t know what’s gotten into you. You don’t know why everything’s so hard.

There’s a scuffling of shoes, and your name is carried to you on the heels of a breeze. Oh God. There’s someone else here.

You sniff and smear your tears on the palms of your hands the best you can but a little part of you only wants to cry more now that you’re all anxious, and you only have a few seconds to collect yourself before you turn around and see Luke, your cabin leader, with furrowed brows. “Oh, h-hi, Luke.” It’s hard to ignore the splinter in your voice. You curse yourself a thousand times.

“Hey,” he says hesitantly, eyeing you in a way that makes you feel entirely exposed. “You, uh, you know you’re not technically supposed to be out here, right?”

You start to scramble to your feet with an apology on your tongue but surprisingly he laughs, a gentle sound, and beckons you to sit back down. “No, no, I’m not gonna get you in trouble or anything, just . . . letting you know.”

It’s uncertain if you should keep sitting, but you decide to because well, you’re already down here, and things can’t go lower than this. Luke comes to sit next to you and you stare out into the sea like your life depends on it. “Wanna talk about why you’re out here?”

“Wh-what do you mean?”

“I mean,” Luke sighs, scooting a little closer to you. “Most people don’t up and leave in the middle of the night because they’re having a great time.”

The answer is too hard to say so you don’t reply.

Again, Luke sighs, and you try not to look at the shadow the moon casts on his admittedly handsome face. “It’s hard settling in, I know. It happens to a lot of people. I’ve . . . I’ve seen a lot of them, and it doesn’t get any easier.”

“Well it sure seems easier,” you snap, and your self-control flies away before you can stop it. “I have no idea why I can’t just suck it up and fit in here. Everyone seems so happy and it’s driving me nuts because I’m just so confused on why I can’t—why I can’t—process any of it.” Tears burn your eyes. “I’m just miserable. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

In the corner of your view, Luke’s face falls. “I’m your guide, you know that, right? I can help you.”

You sniff, embarrassingly pathetic. “I know.”

He comes even closer. “So why didn’t you ask?”

“Because I—I don’t know, you’re busy all the time with all the people in there, so I’m sure your job’s already stressful as is, so—”

“My job is to help you,” he says, a hand on your shoulder. “That’s what I signed up for. If you need something, I’m the one to ask.”

“I’m not sure you signed up for me crying like a baby,” you swallow, the ripples of the lake blurring together. “I mean, I’m like, older than half the kids here, and they’re all so much better than me. I’m not good at a—anything, and I’ve tried it all, and nobody’s claimed me yet, and I feel so weird and old and alone and . . .” It’s too much to think about so you dig the heels of your palms into your eyes, hoping the sting wards off the thoughts. “What if I’m nothing? Why am I here?”

You’re crying again, hiccuping into your hands. Shame sears into you. Luke’s arm curls around your shoulders and you realize how cold you are when he’s warm, so warm, and you want to cry even harder. You don’t even know him, but it’s the most tenderness you’ve received in what feels like years. “Hey, deep breaths,” he murmurs, rubbing your arm with his other hand. “It’s okay. Look at me.”

It takes a ridiculous amount of strength to heed him. His hand catches your cheek and you can’t bear to pull away. Something strange rustles in your stomach.

Luke’s taught instinct when faced with situations like these is to reassure that the Gods always have a plan. But he doesn’t feel like much of a liar tonight. Both his hands steady your face towards his, your skin damp and cold beneath his thumb. “It's not your fault. It always takes a little bit of time for people to get claimed, it’s never . . . well, you can never tell.”

“What if I don’t get claimed?” You say it so quiet you can pretend it was imaginary.

His eyes crinkle at the sides when he says, “Well, Hermes’ll always have a place for you.”

I’ll, Luke wants to say, I’ll. His father is not responsible for his cabin’s kindness.

“No one really prepares you for how overwhelming this is,” he continues, thumb rubbing the apple of your cheek. Your vision is clearer now, and Gods, he is handsome, isn’t he? Even when his eyes are forlorn. “It’s harder in a way when you’re older. More to leave behind. Less to look forward to. It’s easier when you have a friend. Or a great cabin head.” He tilts his head with a faint smile, “Lucky for you, I’m both.”

It almost makes you laugh, and that’s enough. “It’ll get easier,” he promises softly. “There’s nothing wrong with you.”

Your cheeks burn. It’s hard to keep his gaze, so you blot at your eyes with your hands as Luke gently slides his off your face. “Thank you. Sorry for, um, all that. And the crying.”

He chuckles, “Don’t even worry about it.” You watch him rise in the throes of starlight. He offers you a hand. “Aren’t you cold?” He asks after pulling you up, and you sheepishly nod your head. He tosses you a sweater he’s been wearing, and it smells like firewood. Nostalgic, in a way. “I’m gonna poke around for some tea. Wait for me back at the cabin.”

Before he leaves, he squeezes your arm and that thing happens again in your stomach. “No need to be embarrassed, by the way. You can come to me anytime. I’m probably less busy than I look.” As he walked away, he added, “And don’t worry about the crying. You’re pretty either way.”

Either way. The tea doesn’t seem important anymore because your face is on fire.

Time reveals that Luke is right. He is a great cabin leader and a friend, and it’s hard to tell which he’s better at. You fall in with him right away. Soon enough, you’re drawn into your new life, so slowly you barely realize it’s happening. The days get shorter and you start wishing they were longer. The nights get easier. And when they’re not, Luke tucks you into his bunk and folds you in his arms until you drift off. You pick up a bow. A sword. Luke tells you to straighten your shoulders with a hand on the small of your back, and you swear it always lingers. You braid garlands of carnations for your cabin mates and they wear them with pride. It’s warm, your cheeks hurt from smiling, and things start to feel like home.

Until you’re claimed.

Now you’re a ghost in Hermes cabin, another empty bunk to be filled, and Luke stares at it until he can remember every last detail of what it looked like when it was yours. A beautiful, gentle daughter of Demeter, no longer in arms’ reach. He should’ve seen it coming.

He sees you with your siblings all the time. You’re so happy and he envies it. You belong there, he knows that, the way your face lights up at the dinner table and how you giggle when your half-sister presents you a flower. But sometimes your eyes wander, and something inside them dulls, until you look at him, too.

Luke’s place at camp is to be nothing but a funnel for lost campers to find their home. He’s a temporary stop in everybody’s journey. He’d made peace with it a long time ago. But here you are, messing it all up, because you still don’t leave him.

You beg him to give you another sword-fighting lesson. You sit next to him at bonfires. You pick him for partner camp activities. It doesn’t matter how many younger boys want to latch onto him for guidance—he sees you heading towards him, and he can’t imagine choosing anyone else.

But you’re always whisked away by your siblings, separated at meals and in sleep and in activities so it’s never, ever enough. Why did he delude himself into thinking you’d stay forever?

After weeks of distance from you, he’s elated when you have even a fraction of a conversation. “Hey, Luke!” You call out to him, and he finds you instantly. You’ve broken away from your siblings to get to him.

“Hey,” he smiles, and hopes he doesn’t look too pleased.

You lean a little towards his ear, and you smell like every wonderful thing in the world. “Can we hang out tonight? On the hill?” You’re a little bashful when you say it and it’s entirely endearing. Even now, you’re still so unsure. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too,” he says almost instantly, and it makes you look less nervous. “Yes. Absolutely. But don’t get caught breaking curfew now, you hooligan.”

Someone calls your name and you give a curt, playful nod. “Yes sir, camp counsellor sir!” He carries your laugh close to his heart until night falls.

You’re already there when he arrives, a vision in the moonlight before he even sees your face. “Hey, angel.”

When you turn around you look flustered. He won’t pretend like it doesn’t flatter him. “H—hi, uh, hello.”

There’s a moment where the world is still. The two of you, alone, for the first time in ages.

He sits down next to you, and it’s like the first time all over again. You get to talking, about your days, your anecdotes, your cabins. The strangeness of it all. “It’s so weird waking up in the morning and not having you yapping in my ear,” you remark, and he teasingly pushes your shoulder.

“Well, one of us has to be the talker, and it’s clearly not you,” he retorts.

You fiddle with blades of grass between your fingertips, weaving them together. “I’ll have you know I had a cabin-wide conversation about Capture The Flag yesterday, and I contributed greatly.”

“Oh, really?” He grins, knocking your elbow to steal your attention. “Look at you, coming out of your shell. I’m so proud.”

It’s hard to hold his gaze for more than a second. You’re afraid you’ll do something stupid if he keeps looking at you like that, but you almost want to. “Oh, shut up.”

He puts a hand on your shoulder. “No, I’m serious. I’m proud.” His eyes rake over your face. “You’re flourishing. You found your place.”

You can’t stop yourself from saying, “I kind of miss my old one.”

There’s a way he studies your expression that makes you feel utterly helpless. You wish you could dish it back to him, but you know you just look awestruck whenever you stare at him for so long. He’s quieter when he replies, “I miss it, too. A lot. Sometimes, I—” His face scrunches up like he just tasted something sour. “Nevermind.”

Frowning, you prod, “What? What is it?”

He sighs and turns to the horizon. This is the first time you’ve ever seen him struggle. “Sometimes, I wish you hadn’t been claimed. Sorry, that’s . . . that’s awful, I know.”

His surprise is evident when you say, “Sometimes I wish I wasn’t either.”

He turns back to you. “Really?”

“Really,” you nod, staring at the beads on his necklace. “You’re the only reason I’ve adjusted here at all.”

“Don’t sell yourself short.”

“It’s true. And I miss you.” A few months ago you would’ve kicked yourself for saying this. But Luke has a way of inspiring confidence in people.

“I miss you, too. So much.” He gently prys the grass you’ve been weaving out of your hands, now a small necklace. “But look at how talented you are. I’ll tell you, I’m lucky you’re still sticking around. For most people, Hermes is touch-and-go.”

Luke leans forward to tie the garland around your neck, and your pulse picks up. “This isn’t about Hermes, Luke,” you try to be firm but it comes out soft. “It’s about you.”

His hands stop fiddling and rest on your neck. When he speaks, you can feel his breath on you. And you have no idea that he’s been waiting to hear that his whole life. “What’s about me?”

It’s not fair, your inability to string sentences together only worsens right when a beautiful boy is this close to you. “Hermes isn’t—it’s not special because of your father, it’s special because of you.”

There is nothing else you can possibly think of saying with the way his fingers trace up your neck and hold your jaw. “Yeah, well,” he murmurs, “The only reason anything in my life is special is because of you.”

You don’t know if it’s a lie or not; you don’t care. His nose nudges yours. There’s a moment where you wonder if this is as close to Elysium you’ll ever get. Then he slips a hand to the back of your neck and pulls you to his mouth.

He kisses you in a near fury, then when he knows you’re not going anywhere, it’s the gentlest thing you know. It’s hard to believe this is even happening. Your hands weave through his curls but he holds you steady, and thank the Gods for that because you’re pretty sure you’re melting. You kiss again, and again, and again, until you genuinely think you’re going to pass out and you have to pull away.

“Aw, look at you,” he murmurs when you can’t meet his eyes, a playful lilt in his voice. “Still so nervous.”

“Would you shut up?” You press your face into the crook of his neck with a huge smile.

He kisses the top of your head. “Love to, angel.”

Luke Castellan is the son of a messenger. He’s supposed to believe he’s bringing the best of humanity to the Gods and glory above.

But screw the Gods. He’s keeping this one for himself.

[too-deviant]

jackie and wilson.

previous | next masterlist

pairing: luke castellan x unclaimed!reader

summary: you haven't been given a quest, but you have made it your personal mission to make luke castellan smile

word count: 5.3k

content: fluffff, loser!reader, happy!luke if you squint and a sprinkle of loser!luke, brief mentions of suicide but nothing heavy, we finally find out which state reader is from

notes: this is so cute i love them.

PART III — she’s gonna save me, call me ‘baby’, run her hands through my hair

Wading through a misty green lake with Luke Castellan was not on your camp bucket list — something you’d produced with a young girl called Silena who you’d met in the arts and crafts cabin — but alas, here you were; knee deep in pond water and ankle deep in whatever sludge lived at the bottom, hands searching blindly along the floor while you tried your best to keep your chin dry. 

You probably wouldn’t have been there if you were any good at Volleyball — which really doesn’t make much sense with the given context. 

Okay, here’s what happened. It was Saturday at camp halfblood — and while you had been there for a solid three days now, you were yet to experience the joy of the weekends. Not that you knew they were any different, not until Travis Stoll approached you after breakfast. 

“Heyyyy, uh...newbie.” He chuckled, sidling up beside you while you were occupied with deciding whether your camp shirt was better tucked into your shorts or left hanging over them. 

You turned to the boy with an amused smile, reminding him of your name. He snapped his fingers at you, “I knew that. I did. I just prefer newbie.”

“What’s up, Travis?”

He dropped his finger guns, rocking back and forth on his feet and looking at you sheepishly, “Well, me and a few friends were gonna chuck a ball around on the beach and we need an extra player to make it even. Now that Luke’s not an option.” 

He muttered that last bit low and under his breath, not in hopes that you wouldn’t hear but in hopes that Luke wouldn’t — there was no telling how far he was from you at any given moment, but he wasn’t going to tell you that, so he just put on his charming Stoll Smile and said, “So, wanna join us?” 

You didn’t have anything to do that day, and since you’d assumed you were in for another long eight hours of finding out what you were good at and failing, a friendly game of ball (which you were safe to assume was volley, per what Luke told you yesterday) seemed like a great idea. 

Only it wasn’t — friendly, that is. You wandered over to the net set up on the beach with Travis at your side and a taller girl with curly blonde hair narrowed her eyes at you in suspicion, “How good are you at this?” 

“Uh —“ You shrugged, shaking your head slightly, “I’ve never played. We don’t have many beaches where I’m from.” 

“You don’t need a beach to play volleyball, newbie.” Connor Stoll appeared out of nowhere, grinning at you, “But it’s easy to pick up. You can be on our team.”

Their team consisted of Connor, Chris, Poppy from the Demeter cabin, Evie and Evan (twins from the Ares cabin) and now, yourself. Apparently it was a lost cause whenever the Stolls were on the same team, so Travis was on the other side of the net with the blonde girl from earlier — who’s name you’d learnt was Sabine, and who’s godly parent was Nike, which did not decrease your nerves even a little bit. 

“It’s pretty simple once you get the hang of it.” Evie explained to you once she noticed your unsure eyes. “Just don’t hit the ball twice in a row, Sab’s a stickler for that rule.” 

“Other than that, we’re pretty lax.” Her brother tagged on, smirking at you, “This isn’t the Olympics.” 

“Tell her that.” You side eyed the blonde on the other side of the net, who was cracking her knuckles and discussing strategy with Travis and Brynn, an Athena kid with a bright blue buzzcut. 

The twins let out identical chuckles, sharing a look before patting your shoulders, “You’ll be fine.” 

You didn’t have time to quip that the pair of them talking at the same time was a little foreboding before the game was on, and a volleyball was heading straight for you. 

To be fair to you, you lasted longer than expected. Maybe it was your battle instincts kicking in, but you hadn’t missed the ball once — sure, your defence lacked any real strategy and was more you hitting the ball in whatever direction and hoping for the best, but it was working, so why complain? You wouldn’t qualify for varsity, but at least you were one upping a Stoll brother — the same couldn’t be said for most campers, you knew that much. 

You actually thought you were getting pretty good, too. Your team was up by a few points (no thanks to you, all thanks to Evan. Seriously, he was like six foot four) and Sabine was getting angry. Every now and then she’d turn and scowl at Rhea, one of her teammates, and the girl would just shrug in response before returning to her position. But then, just when you started to get confident with it, Travis got you. 

Hard, too. You were paying close attention to your feet, making sure you didn’t trip over any sand when you had to move, and unfortunately didn’t notice the ball coming at you until it clipped you in the face. You went down onto your ass, both hands flying to your nose and groaning when you felt a warm trickle of blood slide through your fingers and down your hands. 

“Holy shit, newbie.” Travis sped over, dropping to his knees next to his brother and hovering over you, “I am so sorry, are you okay?” 

Your speech was muffled and nasally when you replied with a swift, “No, asshole!”

“Shit.” He muttered, looking between Connor and Evie, “Uh, I can take you to the infirmary if you want —“

“I’ll take her.” Evan interrupted. He was crouched somewhere behind you, looking at your teammates over the top of your head. You felt his hands flatten on your back as he pushed you up to stand, the rest of the group joining him and wincing when some blood dripped onto the sand. 

“It’s okay, you don’t have to —“ You held out a hand in his direction now that you could see him, only to press it firmly back against your face when your nose simply started to gush once the pressure had been removed. 

“Yes,” He nodded, “I do. Let’s go.” 

You let him lead you, sending an apologetic look to the remaining teens on the sand — you were pretty sure it looked nothing like an apology since your hands were covering half of your face and there was blood seeping through your fingers, but it was the effort that counted. 

You didn’t receive as many looks as you thought you would’ve on the walk to the infirmary, although you assumed demigods had gotten worse injuries than a nosebleed before, so it wasn’t exactly odd. When you got there, you stopped on the porch and tried to speak to Evan as best you could without letting any more blood spill. 

“You can — you can go.” You said through your hands, “I got it from here.”

He looked a little unsure, but you nodded firmly and he turned back the way he came. It was pretty embarrassing, walking into the infirmary with a bloody nose on your third day at camp, but the Apollo kid who took care of you said it was only a matter of time before you shed first blood, and that you’d better thank the gods it was a volleyball and not a hellhound that did the damage. 

They stopped the bleeding with some sort of special gauze and told you to be a little more careful before sending you on your way — which was when you found Luke. 

You didn’t even see him at first, more focused on folding the gauze you’d been given into a perfect square while you stepped off the wooden porch. But then a voice muttered your name in slight shock and confusion, and you looked up to meet those baby brown eyes you couldn’t help but love. 

You grinned, “JoJo.”

Luke shook his head, “What were you doing in the infirmary?” His eyes tracked all over you, assessing for any visible injuries. When he found none, he turned his questioning gaze back to your face. 

You sucked in some air through your teeth, embarrassed, “I, uh, got hit in the face with a volleyball. Turns out, I’m awful at it.” You let out a weak chuckle, and Luke rolled his eyes in amusement. 

“Of course. I thought baseball was your thing?” 

“It is.” You nodded, “But there’s nobody out here to play with, so…” Then an idea sprung, and your face lit up so visibly that Luke took a tentative step back, “Hey, why don’t you come watch? We’re playing on the beach.”

“Oh.” The boy paused, eyes sliding to the beach and back to you, “I don’t think so…I, uh, tend to spend my weekends alone.”

“You spend your everything alone.” You pointed out with a raised pair of brows. He pursed his lips. You sighed, “Come on. You don’t have to play.”

He looked as if he was thinking about it, and your hopes were raised a little. You liked Luke, you wanted to know him better and one day consider him a friend rather than a guy you harassed every day. But you were very aware of his aversion for all things social — the comment Travis made about Luke not playing with them anymore saddened you, and it pained you to imagine Luke all alone while his brothers and friends still had fun around him. But then his face dropped, and so did yours, Luke shaking his head no. 

“I just…” He shrugged, “I don’t really…”

“It’s okay.” You interrupted before he could spout out his excuse. He didn’t need one. “We can do something else.”

“Oh, I —“ Another shake of the head, “You go back to them, don’t let me ruin it.”

“You aren’t ruining anything.” You said plainly, and you thought that those four words hit Luke a lot harder than expected, because he had this pensive look on his face that didn’t fade until you spoke again, “Listen, I know baseball isn’t exactly a camp sport, but I’ve got a ball. This place has gotta have bats — I mean, if it’s got swords, it’s got bats, right? So we grab them, we go off somewhere and take turns batting. I need to stay in practice anyway, if I’m gonna make varsity.”

You sent him your shiniest smile paired with some doughy eyes, and after squinting at you for a solid ten seconds, Luke agreed to your idea with a hesitant nod. You weren’t exactly expecting him to jump up and down in joy, so you took the liberty of doing that before asking him, very enthusiastically (because if you stayed positive, maybe it would rub off on him), to go look for a bat while you grabbed your ball. 

Chris caught you exiting the Hermes cabin while he was filling up his water bottle using the outdoor tap not far from the porch, asking you what you were doing with a baseball. You explained that volleyball was definitely not your thing and ignored his chuckle of agreement in favour of informing him that you would be teaching Luke how to become the next Babe Ruth. He raised a brow. 

“Really?”

“Uh, yeah.” You replied, a little put off by his reaction. “Is that a problem?” 

“No, no.” He backtracked quickly, hands raised and water sloshing around his bottle as the movement, “I just…I dunno. Luke’s been a little off recently. If I were you, I wouldn’t meddle in it.”

“Meddle?” You asked, shaking your head, “In what?”

“In his…” He puffed out his cheeks, trying to find the words, “His funk.” He shook his head then, eyes glossing over as he thought about it, “He failed his quest, he’s a little butthurt, but…he’ll get over it. Y’know?”

You didn’t know. 

“I just don’t think he needs babysitting.” He firmed, looking confident in his wording now that he’d found it, “He’s just gonna talk your ear off about how much he hates his life until you’re borderline suicidal. I wouldn’t bother, personally. He's a big boy, he can get over it.”

You rolled your lips over each other, staring blankly at Chris as he sent you a polite smile and walked back to the beach. Slowly, your eyes narrowed, and your brows pulled together. But you didn't say anything, you just turned around yourself and walked to where you’d asked Luke to meet you. 

He was tossing the bat between his hands when you got there, dropping it in his left when he spotted you and nodding, “Alright, where are we doing this?”

You stopped, snapped out of a stupor you didn’t even realise you were in and blinking at him. For the first time since you’d met, it seemed that he was more focused and lively than you were. It irked him a little bit, and he frowned, “Sunny?” 

“Sorry.” You responded immediately, shaking your head to rid yourself of your spiralling thoughts, “I just…uh, let’s go somewhere clear. We don’t wanna hit anyone with the ball.” 

Luke led you to a clearing in the woods, explaining that the wood nymphs would be able to help you if the ball got lost in the foliage, so there was no need to hold back the arm you’d been bragging about for the entire walk. You just smirked, raised the bat level, and nodded at him to serve. 

Yes, you were a thousand percent better at baseball than you were at volleyball. You knew that, of course, but it was nice to be reassured. Luke wasn’t half bad either, but you were also a really good runner, so you kept having to remind him that an average level fielder wouldn’t have a chance against his bats — you just so happened to be way above average. 

Plus the wood nymphs were very helpful — apparently they didn’t get to watch many demigod activities other than capture the flag so it was refreshing for them to see you two play, and to actually be able to help. 

All in all, you were having a great time. Which of course meant that you were long overdue for something going wrong. Of course. 

“I can’t find it.”

“What?” You asked breathlessly, staring at the tree nymph who shrugged at you plainly. 

“It rolled into a pond, I think.” He sniffed indignantly, “And I am not climbing into a pond.”

“Oh, and you expect us to?” 

And that, kids, is how you ended up knee deep in pond water and ankle deep in something else — with Luke Castellan right by your side. 

“This is so gross.” You whispered, grimacing as your hands ran over the murky bottom. You couldn’t see anything but your own reflection when you looked in, so you were replying on touch alone to help find your ball. “I can’t believe this. My lucky ball and it falls into a pond! Not so lucky anymore, huh? Yeah, lucky my ass.”

“Hey, Sunny?” A slosh of water rippled over you and you had to straighten up to avoid the tiny waves splashing in your face. They only increased at your movements, but you were too busy glaring at Luke to notice. He pressed his mouth together, holding in a chuckle, “You’re not being very sunny right now.” 

You huffed, flinging your arms out at your sides and wincing when you splashed water on yourself by doing so, “I —“ A huff, “I don’t feel very sunny, Castellan. I am wading in sludge.” 

He actually had the audacity to let a tiny grin slip through, “Wow, the last name? You’re acting like me right now. It’s weird.”

“I can’t believe this.” You repeated, narrowing your eyes at the boy, “I’ve been trying to cheer you up since the day I met you and when you finally do, it’s because you’re relishing in my pain? Fuck you.”

As if he was trying to piss you off, Luke laughed. He actually laughed, exactly like he had yesterday and if you weren’t so annoyed you’d be smiling at him for it. But you were annoyed, so all you did in response was send a wave of pond water at him and drench his front. 

He stopped laughing. You started laughing. 

“Okay, is that how you wanna play this?” He asked, stepping closer, “Is it?” 

You grinned, stepping back. The water moved when you did, and the paired struggle of your’s and Luke’s legs under the water just increased the waves that oscillated around your knees. It slid up to your thighs and threatened to wet the denim of your shorts, but you were too busy prying your foot out of whatever the hell lived at the bottom of the pond so you could escape Luke’s wrath. 

You shook your head, “You don’t wanna do this.”

He nodded mockingly, “I think I do.”

Then it was on. He lunged for you, and you dived to the left in a swift attempt to get around him. Water was splashing everywhere at this point but neither of you cared — especially when Luke’s hands were mere inches from your arms, waiting for your ankle to snag on some algae and pull you back so he could push you over. You were smarter than that though, so you did a swift one-eighty, dragging your hands under the water with you as you did — the wave that accumulated from the momentum doused Luke from head to toe, his curls sticking to his forehead. He wiped them away and blew hard from his mouth before forming a weak glare in your direction.   

Your jaw trembled as you held in what you knew would be some serious chortles — but it was silent. The only noise apparent was the settling of the waves now that you had both stopped moving and Luke’s heavy breathing in front of you. He shook his head, stepping forward slowly, and you braced yourself for what was about to come. 

“Hey!” 

You paused. You shared a look with Luke before looking confusedly at the form that had appeared suddenly between the two of you. It was a girl by the looks of it, only she was made entirely of the water the two of you were standing in. She glared between the pair of you, hands on her hips. 

“I don’t appreciate all this splashing.” You felt suddenly like you were being berated by a school teacher for talking too loud during class, “Are you trying to drain my pond? Are you?”

“N—No.” You responded, shaking your head, “We were just looking for — ”

The water nymph held up your ball with a stern expression, “This? Yeah, it looked like you were.” 

Her sarcasm was not lost on you, and you tried your best not to meet Luke’s eyes, knowing they would fail you the second you did. Instead you looked at the nymph before you and took the ball from her outstretched hand, “Thank you. And, um, sorry…about the splashing.”

She folded her arms, lifting her head and straightening her shoulders, “That’s okay. Now get out.”

You were both quick to exit the water, although not too quick that you made anymore of it splash onto the rocks. Once you were out, the nymph nodded in satisfaction and melted back into the pond, and you and Luke were finally able to breathe. Then, you both burst into laughter. 

“Oh my gods.” You huffed, shaking your head and looking down at yourself, “Did we just get into trouble?” 

“With a water nymph?” He finished, shrugging off his wet shirt and wringing it out, “Yeah. How embarrassing.”

Your mouth was suddenly very dry. You knew Luke was strong — he had to be to fight a dragon and come back alive. To be known as the Best Swordsman in Camp. To be trusted by so many campers despite his newfound, distanced demeanour. But damn. 

You blew out a long puff of air, hoping your reddened cheeks could be excused as some light sunburn. You weren’t as soaked as he was, but you still wafted your damp shirt from your body in hopes that it would dry — and also to give yourself something to do that wasn’t ogling at Luke’s lean figure. 

He spread his shirt out on a rock, ensuring the sun was hitting it right before lowering himself to the ground on the dry grass a few feet away. He leant back on his hands, face to the sky, and revelled in the warmth. You stayed standing, fiddling with the button on your shorts, staring at him. At the scar on his face, at the rest of them along his chest. 

He cracked one eye open, glancing at you, “What?”

“I, uh.” You licked your lips, “Nothing. Nothing.” You muttered, taking a seat beside him and crossing your legs. Your gaze stuck firmly to your lap and you waited for his to return to the sky. It didn’t. 

“You can ask me.” He said then, shrugging. 

“What happened on your quest?” You let slip, and when he stayed silent for a second too long, you realised that maybe that wasn't the question he was giving you permission to ask. “I’m sorry. I know it’s none of my business, it’s nobody’s really. But Chris told me before that you’re in a funk and that seemed like a gross understatement but then again I’ve known you for, what, three days? He’s known you for years, so surely he’s right. But you just seem like it’s more than a funk, and I don’t know what to believe because I don’t know what happened but I also don’t want to ask because it’s none of my business and it’s also very clearly a sore subject because of what happened with Dean. Not that I think you’re gonna fly off the handle or anything, but it’s definitely a touchy subject and I can’t just go demanding all the details just because I wanna be your friend and— ”

A hand over your mouth stopped you from continuing what Luke was sure to be a very long tangent. He looked at you, half in shock, half in amusement, and huffed out a laugh, “Sunny, you need to calm down.”

You couldn’t respond, but you did nod. He removed his hand slowly and you swallowed your embarrassment. Luke sat up fully, straightening his back and clearing his throat, “Uh, okay. Have you heard of that Hercules story? With the golden apples?” 

You nodded, afraid to speak in case you went off on a rant again. He nodded with you, “Yeah, well, my father sent me on that. The exact same quest…except I failed.”

That explained the scar, and the dragon story he’d mentioned very briefly yesterday. He started to go into a little more detail about his quest — and suddenly you were overcome with this…angry sort of sadness. 

Hermes sent Luke on a quest that had already been done. After hearing Clarisse yap your ear off about Kleos, you understood why he’d been a little bummed. Honestly, if it were you, you wouldn’t have even gone. What’s the point in doing a quest that’s already been done? But you didn’t say that to Luke, who seemed a little deep into his story. You just simmered in your irritation while he continued to explain his battle with Ladon, and his ultimate failure. 

“I refused to leave the infirmary for a week.” He chuckled, but it was a little sad. “I mean, I’m supposed to be a leader here, and I fail my first quest? Some demigod I turned out to be.” 

Without even thinking, you shook your head, “You didn’t fail.” Luke looked at you, confused, “You battled a dragon with a hundred heads and lived. That doesn’t sound like failure to me.”

“But I didn’t get the apples.” He explained. “I disappointed my father.”

“Your father…” You said slowly, unsure of how your next words would land, “Who I’m going to assume had never spoken to you until the day he gave you your quest?” Luke nodded after a brief pause and you took that as permission to continue, “So who cares if he’s disappointed? He clearly doesn’t care if you’re mauled by a dragon.” 

“Exactly.” Luke replied, brows pulled together in the way they had been when you’d first met. Angry, irritated. Disappointed. “Everyone keeps telling me to get over it. That demigods have failed quests before and it just means I need to try harder next time but…why should there be a next time? Really, if you sit and think about it for a second, why are we even here? To train, so we don’t die whenever monsters come and attack us? And who’s fault is that? Maybe if our parents were good people, there wouldn’t be any monsters trying to murder their kids. If they cared, even a little bit, they’d do more than just claim us and leave us to die!” 

He scoffed, looking in the direction where you knew the rest of the campers resided — playing games, building weapons, dedicating every waking hour to becoming the best of the best. And for what? For glory? For a pat on the back from a parent who can’t even be bothered to raise them? 

“They don’t get it.” He said then, turning back to you, “They think this is all okay. They’re too invested to realise that they’re just being used. They’re so focused on getting a shred of recognition from the gods that they don’t understand that it’s never gonna come.”

“So…” You finally spoke, your first words in a minute, “What do we do?”

Luke shrugged then, “I don’t know yet.” 

It was silent for a long time after that. Luke stayed staring at the floor and you led back to stare at the sky. He was right, wasn’t he? Sure, you’d only been in this for a little while, but you weren’t stupid. You knew the gods didn’t care — you’d figured out that much when you got to camp. A dumping ground for demigods. Demigod daycare, except mommy isn’t coming to pick you up at three o’clock. Luke deserved to be angry, he deserved to mope — they all did. 

But they wouldn’t. You could sit there and curse the gods for hours on end, but that was still half of you. And that, you thought, was probably the worst part of it all.  

You were so caught up in your feelings that when the tree that had been shading you phased into a nymph and walked away, you jumped halfway out of your skin, “Jeezum crow.”

You looked at Luke, expecting him to either share the same dumbfounded look on his face or be laughing at you — something he seemed to be doing a lot of today — but instead he was staring at you, slack-jawed and wide eyed. You blinked, “What?”

“You’re from Vermont.” 

Your mouth snapped shut, and his expanded into the grin you’d been hassling him for since you’d set your sights on him. You sighed, “Fuck.” 

He let out a disbelieving laugh, “You’re from Vermont! Holy shit. I should’ve known it when you called me a flatlander.” He threw his head back, and you shook yours at his dramatics. But he didn’t care, he just pointed at you, “You’re a fuckin’ woodchuck!” 

“Oh my gods.” You groaned into your hands, pulling yourself to your feet in hopes of escaping his sudden glee. “Is that so bad?” 

“No.” He laughed, following you, “I’m just amazed that I figured it out. I’m a genius!”

“Okay.” You sent him a blank look, but it only lasted a few seconds before your tiny smile was fighting through, “It’s not like you’ve discovered the meaning of life. Calm down.” 

“Never.” He shook his head, “This is my greatest achievement.”

“You fought a dragon.” 

“Screw the dragon!” He gripped your biceps, grinning at you, “You’re from Vermont!”

“You’re not funny.”

“And yet you’re laughing.”

“I am not.”

“You are.” 

“I’m not!” 

____________

“What’d you do to him?” 

You threw a piece of salmon into the fire, glancing at Chris, “I’m getting deja vu. Haven’t you asked me this already?” 

“Yeah, but…” The boy looked behind him, back at the Hermes table, where Luke was perched on the end and waiting patiently for you to come back from the hearth before digging into his food, “This time I mean it. I mean, he still isn’t talking to us, but he’s sitting on our side of the table again. You can be honest with me…” He sent you a grave look, “Did you give him a BJ?” 

“What? No!” You threw a pea at him. “I just listened to him.” You tried to be a little serious, but clearly Chris wasn’t getting the hint, so you relented, “And doused him in pond water.”

He laughed at that, nodding proudly. You turned back to the fire, asking Aphrodite to get rid of your split ends. You’d given up on praying to your father, deciding to go through every Olympian until one of them answered. So far, only Hera had responded — you assumed so, anyway, when a cuckoo woke you up from your afternoon nap. That wasn’t very helpful, but at least it was an answer. You didn’t suspect campers prayed to her often, so she probably appreciated the sentiment. 

“So…” Travis smirked, wiggling his eyebrows at you once you sat down. He sent this look around the group, but even Connor gave him a weirded out look in response. He huffed, “It’s team day tomorrow.”

A collective ohhh seemed to hum around the group, but you were still confused. You sent a questioning look to Luke who said, “For Capture the Flag. Tomorrow is when all the cabin counsellors gang up and decide on the two teams.”

“Then we have five days to strategise.” Travis continued on very dramatically, hands splayed on the table, “And on Friday…we battle.”

That seemed to lift the energy up a bit, the people around you sharing mischievous looks. They started to discuss amongst them who would be the best cabin to ally with, Lana turning to Chris, “Who are you gonna pick?” 

Chris went to speak, but paused. He seemed to think about something, looking slightly scared but still turning to the boy across from him anyway, “I thought maybe…Luke would like to reinstate himself as team captain this month.”

Right, you’d completely forgotten. During your spear lessons with Clarisse, you’d asked her why it was so important that you be amazing at fighting quickly if monsters couldn’t get into camp. She’d then explained the whole situation that was Capture the Flag — how it was a bigger deal than the super bowl around here — before briefly mentioning that Luke had always been Hermes team captain, but stepped down for the last game because his scar was still healing from his quest. Chris had taken over for him, and based off of the looks the people around you were sporting, you assumed they weren’t expecting him to give up his title so quickly. 

You couldn’t blame them. Luke hadn’t exactly expressed much desire to captain this time — he hasn’t expressed much desire for anything these days apparently. You were all waiting for him to let Chris down easy, but instead he looked up from his plate with an indifferent nod and said, “Yeah, sure.” 

Nobody said anything. Except Chris who, when Luke stood to rack up his empty plate, looked at you gravely and asked, “Was it a handjob?”

🏷️ @katherines-imagines @lovingjasontoddmakemewanttocry @jennapancake @cobaltskiez @loveryoushouldcomeoverr @m00ng4z3r @mischiefmoons @woodlandwrites @theo-notts-doll @iammightsadyall @fennecswife @csifandom @tsireyasgf (just ask to be removed/added!)

[bangtangalicious]

placebo (m) | pjm (3)

pairing: jimin x reader (ft. jungkook & namjoon)

premise: you're assigned a soulmate backed by the science of compatibility that hopes to promote healthier, long-lasting, loving relationships. you find yours: park jimin is the exact opposite of you. a member of a notorious resistance gang, he doesn't believe in science, love, or the state.

summary: you find out that jimin isn't your true soulmate. he was a placebo - a series of control trials to see if simply thinking someone is your soulmate would be enough to make you fall in love. the issue is, you did. you did fall in love. hard.

genre: 18+ romance, smut, angst, soulmate!au, dystopian, love triangle, romeo-juliet, opposites attract, hurt-comfort

characters: student!reader, vigilante!jimin, student!jungkook, scientist!namjoon

warnings: 18+, contains smut, angsty smut, rough penetrative sex, creampie, cock warming, breast play, a lot of kissing. like a lot. emotional sex, oral sex (m), fingering, praise kink, jimin is a pro at snapping that bra off, a lot of stimulation, a lot of foreplay, aftercare, they're in love okay it's cheesy, feelings of fear, hurt, government conspiracy, medical procedure, memory loss, cursing

taglist: @tornparts @loona15 @effielumiere @agustdream8 @jnghs @dragons-flare @xiusmarshmallow @ratherbefangirling @infires-imagines @aretha170 @dvalitaes @kookiejeonie @ddaeng-angmoh @idk123906 @cuteipat @uarmyhore @natalie-rdr @yawnkive @sukunabitch @withluvjm @thesmeraldogirl @theceraunophilegirl

wc: 7k | series masterlist | part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4

Jimin—

“We’re not actually soulmates.”

Disappointment couldn’t even begin to explain what Jimin was feeling as he saw your eyes shatter in front of him. His heart was already beating wildly with a sense of pounding worry—all from your tears. He wasn’t the kind of guy who expressed himself. He was a pawn. A soldier, of sorts. He took action.

Right now, he was paralyzed. Every drop of blood drained from him in one rush of cold. He was left with nothing. Not even your touch held enough comfort to warm the life back into him. His breath even, mocking him with a charade of calmness.

You continued to explain. He heard you—he swore he did, but everything seemed to numb him from comprehending.

“It was a placebo, where the chip signals but we aren’t actually compatible. So the basis for everything we felt—or everything we think we feel, was a lie. Jungkook found out and,”

Jimin blinked. Looking at you. You were still there. You were still real. Your eyes swollen with tears. Hearing your words hurt, but seeing you like this hurt even more. He needed to be strong for you—you were falling apart in front of him, and he was too stubborn to let you.

He wasn’t going to let you go.

Because he didn’t care. He didn’t care—in fact, a rush seemed to pulse into him, beckoning him onwards—the fact that you might have been some government-implanted craving he had was the only reason he was trying to stay away from you initially. You fought for him. And fuck, he loved you. It was too soon to say it. Hell—probably too soon to feel it but he didn’t have a doubt in his mind.

Last night, as he fell asleep in your arms, all he could wish for was to have that every day for the rest of his life. He had never felt so strongly bound to another person. Never felt so seen, so cherished.

This wasn’t about some microchip in your necks. To him, it never had been. You cared for him when he was hurt. You were a fucking nerd, obsessed with your geeky job in a way that enamored him. You worked so hard, were so fiercely determined and dedicated to your cause. You were messy, clumsy, a stickler for rules where Jimin liked to bend them, break them, or ignore them altogether.

He loved the person you were, unfiltered—he loved the person you wanted to become, and most of all he loved the way you loved him. Your heart on your sleeve. Calling out his bullshit. And always being exactly what he needed even if he didn’t know it himself.

And he knew all of this. So why did he feel so fucking terrified?

Jimin swallowed deeply. His hand leaving your face as you searched him for a reaction through glassy eyes.

“Tell me what this means to you, doctor” His words were hushed. His fingers gliding over your wrists before circling them into his hold. His lips hovered over yours, foreheads resting against one another.

Jimin wasn’t an idiot. He knew exactly what it meant to you. But he needed to hear you say it. He knew how hard you had fought for him. He had tried so hard to push you away, but you persisted because you believed in the Soulmate Initiative so strongly. That had been the catalyst. For you—it had been the condition of your love.

“Jimin” You exhaled. The regret in your voice carved into his heart.

“You know that never mattered to me” His grip on your wrists tightened, as if his touch would make you understand. It was all he could do to not scream—not begin to pathetically beg you not to care. Not to change anything—not to leave him.

He could see you scrambling for words. “There’s still a chance—” You attempted to reason. Because that’s who you were. Hard facts and logic. Your voice choked—Jimin couldn’t look at you a second longer. It was too fucking painful. Too painful to sit there and watch as you gave up on him.

He needed to leave. Get far away from you and think. Because right now he felt so helpless, so powerless—he didn’t trust himself not to say something he’d ultimately regret.

His eyes were red, wet with anger. A façade to cover the shattering in his chest.

“I have to get to class, doctor” His voice was serene. His gaze, tumultuous.

“Jimin please,” You tried to pull him back as he stood up. He yanked his hand away from you, rougher than he meant to, but enough for you to get the hint. “I’m so sorry”

He took a few steps towards the door. Turning back, he looked at you one last time. Your tear-stained cheeks. Your quivering lips.

“I’m not sorry” He swallowed thickly. Pulling on his leather jacket and grabbing his helmet, he tucked in under his arm. “I will never be sorry for falling for you, doctor”

“There might—” Jimin held up his palm.

“I’ll come back” His eyes softened as if to ease your anxiety, “We can talk about this later”

He was out of the door in seconds, unable to look you in the eye again. The fresh, cold air hit him like salvation from the tension. He gasped, breathing the sharp air in as his tears unleashed.

Sinking to the floor, he buried his head between his knees. His fingers gripping his hair in frustration as he sobbed quietly. He jerked his head back, hitting the door as he punched the ground next to him. Cursing loudly as he crumbled.

You—

Jimin would be back any second. You’d never felt quite so nervous. So anxious—not even when you opened your decision letter for your PhD program—not ever. He’d be back. Be home. And you two would have to face the impending doom you’d introduced to him.

More than anything, you felt guilty. Guilty that you were responsible for what he was going through right now. After trying so hard to convince him that he even deserved love, let alone from you—to gain his trust and then put him into this grey space of uncertainty. It wasn’t lost on you how unfair it was.

The mere thought of living your life like you had before Jimin—was pointless. He had awoken something within you. As frustrating as he was, as much of a tease and a flirt—he made every day feel like an adventure. He brought you to life in a way nothing else quite did.

But if your real soulmate was out there, you couldn’t help but wonder. Was it all fake attraction? Was what you could find with someone you were truly compatible with even better than this? More magical? More right?

You had to know.

And you knew Jimin wouldn’t see it that way. But even if you chose to ignore it—to let it go, it would drive a wedge between the two of you inevitably. Jimin’s flaws seemed to glare at you in a way that they hadn’t before. Everything impossible about your relationship seemed to weigh on you because you didn’t have the blind faith in the system anymore. You didn’t have the promise that this is how it was supposed to be.

The ring of your doorbell sent your heart into somersaults. You buzzed him, nervously tugging at your sleeves. You wanted to look pretty for him—unsure if that was cruel of you, but you couldn’t help but think that these were a collection of your final moments together.

He walked inside. Tired eyes, raven hair wispy from the wind. The cold tinting his cheek and nose. His black motorcycle jacket hugged his figure. The familiar scent of cigarettes and gasoline which you had come to associate with comfort. A scent that once made you nauseous.

Slugging his backpack off, he set it aside. Neatly, he unlaced his boots before stepping inside. He regarded you with a soft smile. His deep brown eyes were simultaneously relieved and broken.

“Hey you”

You approached him slowly, immediately wrapping your arms around his torso. You inhaled him. His unadulterated bliss. He was cold, but so warm. And when his arms wrapped around you, cradling your head to the crook of his neck, leaning into you—you wanted to simply melt.

You looked up. His pretty eyes—the way he looked at you—God. His touch flushed you over with heat as his palm reached your cheek, thumb caressing over your jaw, teasing your bottom lip.

You didn’t know what to say to him. It seemed, you didn’t need to say anything. Jimin sighed into you, his lips relaxing against yours. So soft. So tender. Incredibly sweet.

And you wouldn’t stop him. Maybe it was avoidance. The impending melancholy of the night you were about to have. The inevitable heartache. You deepened the kiss, pulling Jimin closer to you desperately.

He grinned against your lips as you did. Hands falling to your hips before cupping the backs of your thighs. He lifted you up, still kissing you with the same delicateness. Taking you to the couch where he sat you both down.

Falling to his back, you crawled on top of him. Lips not parting. Breaths getting heavier.

Because when you kissed, nothing else mattered. Nothing else even existed. There was only him. Him and the storm of pleasure brewing in your chest. The heat coursing through your veins. The dizziness spinning in your head.

His fingers curled over your hip as he flipped you down. Hovering over you now, he admired you. Eyes memorizing your every crevice. His chain fell from his neck, the cool metal making you shiver as it glided across your hot skin.

He peeled off his jacket, leaving only his tight white t-shirt, before returning to you. Body caging yours in. Forearms resting on either side of your face as his fingers traced your cheeks.

“I don’t tell you enough” He murmured. You raised your eyebrows, curious. “You’re so fucking beautiful, doctor. So pretty,” His eyes were half-lidded, kissing you chastely, “Sexy..gorgeous..mine” He smacked against your lips between each word—sending a rush of praise to your head.

And you loved it. You loved his words like they were feathers tickling against you. His voice was silk and you wanted to dance in it for eternity.

The pressure of his body felt incredible against yours, his heat like a blanket. You’d never felt so safe—so cherished in his hold.

“Where the hell did you even come from, doctor?” He hummed playfully against your lips, “How the hell find me? You’re a fever. You’re my disease and my cure”

You tugged at his chain, urging him to kiss you harder. To glue his lips to yours.

He groaned, hips rolling flush against yours as his mouth worked you into serenity. You could feel how badly he needed you, but he was taking his time. On the other hand, you were frantic. Your fingers tugging at the hem of his shirt. Tugging it up his torso as he chuckled. You could feel his scalding skin on your fingertips. Exploring the expanse of him. The contours of his body, the soft skin.

His teeth tugged at your lip, nipping at you playfully as you scratched your nails against his chest. He finally allowed you to pull this shirt over his head, giving you a moment to admire him, chain contrasting against his golden skin before you tugged off your own top.

You were left in sheer light green bra. Delicate. Something you had bought as a joke a long time ago, wondering if it would actually make you feel more confident. Jimin’s pupils darkened.

“Let me” He exhaled shakily. You turned over, on your knees as Jimin held you up—one hand on your neck pulling you back to him. His fingers gripped your jaw as he kissed your cheek, smirking against you as his other hand expertly snapped your bra off. So fast that it sent shivers down your spine. He replaced where the latch once was pressing into your back with his own lips, kissing up your spine until melting at your nape.

You arched your back as the bra slid down your arms, onto the floor. Jimin’s coarse fingers immediately covering your breasts. Pinching your nipple between his fingers sensually. Trailing butterfly kisses up your neck. You twitched under his touch. Small, needy gasps leaving your parted lips.

He hummed with pleasure, tasting you across your jaw, chest pressed against your back.

“So good to me,” He kissed your cheek. The blisters on his fingers against the soft skin of your breasts making his touch so incredibly erotic, it had you weeping in your core. His touches so subtle, and yet you were reacting to him so desperately. Craving him, overwhelmed by how fucking good it felt when he touched you.

“Please” You weren’t even sure what you were asking for. He chuckled softly, teeth grazing against your ear. “Jimin p-please”

“I love that. I love it when you ask me so nicely like that” He pushed you down on all fours. You let out a surprised gasp at his sudden roughness, but your cunt tightened. He pulled off your jeans, and then his own. Leaving your panties on he grabbed a handful of your ass and squeezed it.

“So fucking perfect,” His large hands moved all over the flesh of your thighs. He let two fingers tease along your damp slit. “What’s this huh? Wet for me already baby?”

His fingers pushed the cloth aside, finding your tender clit. You bit back a moan as he began to trace small, slow circles. He leaned down on you, the feeling of skin on skin riling you up even further. His lips caressed the back of your shoulders with hums of approval as his fingers continued to coax you. His other hand holding your hip steady. Pinching your ass tenderly.

“Jimin” You gasped breathlessly, fingers gripping the couch tight. His fingers continued to push you further and further towards nirvana. He pulled you up suddenly, fingers still on your clit—but he needed to see you. Needed to look into your eyes as you came. Hand wrapped around your neck, enough to feel his control but not enough to choke you.

“You gonna cum for me doctor?” Jimin teased, forcing your jaw towards him. A grin on his lips mirrored the mischievous glint in his eyes. You nodded pathetically.

“Yeah?” His tone raised, taunting you further as he smashed his lips back on yours. Tongue pushing through your lips as his fingers circled your clit faster. Your moans were swallowed by him—body going limp as waves of pleasure crashed down on you. Your body bucking forward, taking Jimin down with you. Twitching all over as your cunt leaked onto his hand. His rough, desperate kisses muffling your screams.

“That’s it baby, so good for me” His fingers led you through the aftershocks before dipping into your sensitive cunt. “So good and wet all for me, right?”

He pulled himself off of you, and you turned, on your knees—reaching for his cock.

“I want to suck your cock”

Jimin blinked at you incredulously.

But you were determined. You began to stroke him gently. He hissed, reaching behind you to steady himself against the back of the couch.

“You’re so desperate for me, aren’t you baby?” He leaned down to kiss you cheek. You looked up at him, eyes earnest—because you wanted him to feel so good.

You wanted to make up for all the pain you knew you were about to cause him. He deserved everything—heaven and the stars and everything beyond, you wanted him to have it all. For now, you let your lips kiss the flushed tip of his cock.

“F-fuck,” He reached for your chin, stroking your jaw tenderly. “You’re so good to me baby fuck”

“I,” You diverted your eyes with shame as heat crawled over your cheeks. “Tell me what to do”

Jimin gulped, eyes shifting as he understood your words.

“Open wide” He pushed two fingers against your lips until your mouth opened enough for him to slide them inside. “No teeth okay baby—and then just take it in as far—” He pushed his fingers down your throat. You tried your best not to gag, until finally you couldn’t help it. He pulled his fingers out, a string of saliva following. “As you can”

His thumb brushed against your bottom lip, tugging on it playfully as he cooed at you. It was the eagerness in your eyes. The fierce determination he knew you were feeling to please him.

“You’re so” He chuckled softly, “God I—” He choked on his words.

Now was hardly the time.

You beamed at him, taking his cock into your mouth little by little. His head tilted back as he cursed to himself.

You loved seeing him like this—amazed that you could make him feel like this. Motivated by his response, you began to slowly bob your head. He exhaled verbally, letting out a loud groan.

“Just like that baby, fuck—good girl” His voice was pained as if he was losing his resolve and it only fueled you to move faster. He tugged your hair, giving you a warning stare. “If you do that I’m gonna cum baby. Slow down”

You gave him a mischievous look, deciding to disobey.

“Y/n” His voice was low, demanding. He recognized you were teasing him, and as much as he wanted to fuck you—he couldn’t bring himself to stop you. His thumb swiped at the drool from the edge of your lips. A shock rippled through his body as he reached for your shoulder to keep him steady.

“Fuck. Fuck. Baby I’m—” His hips bucked, cock twitching inside your mouth as you felt his warm cum on your tongue. You let him go, swallowing his cum—and before you could even process it, he lifted you up, forcing your legs around his waist and carried you to your bedroom.

He laid you down on the covers gently, kissing the inside of your thighs, all the way up your stomach, where he showed you a little extra love, up to your breasts—he nibbled on them playfully, loving the way you’d twitch for him. His eyes stayed glued to yours. Dark and needy.

“I’m gonna need a little bit” Jimin confessed after deciding your breasts had been abused enough by his mouth. For now. He let his fingers continue to toy with them as he hovered over you. “But we should talk, hm?”

You inhaled sharply.

“Y-yeah we should”

Jimin grinned, taking a peak back into his mouth, this time letting his tongue run rampant on the plushness.

“Jimin” You hissed, grabbing his hair.

“You taste so good baby, I can’t help it” He kept on kissing your chest. Rolling onto his side, he pulled you into his embrace. Your naked bodies intertwined as his hands roamed all over you. You cradled his head against you, fingers running through his silky black hair.

You whimpered, hopelessly aroused by his actions. Your pussy pulsing, wishing so badly to be stuffed.

“I need you” You nudged him. “I need you so bad”

Jimin grinned, pulling away from you. He kissed you softly.

Then his eyes grew serious.

“Y/n” His tone had changed. He wasn’t teasing anymore. “If I asked you to just let it go,”

“You know I can’t” You responded. Jimin looked away. His fingers still tracing your sides.

“Yeah” He said after some time, kissing your cheek, “I know”

You gulped, cupping his face in your hands. “Can I just say that, right now, in this moment, based on every experience I’ve had in my life up to this point—I love you?”

Jimin scoffed, but he couldn’t hide the smile in his eyes.

“I just need to know”

“If there’s someone else, you mean.” Jimin gave you a pointed look. “What happens then, doctor?”

“If someone else is my soulmate, that also means someone else is yours. I can’t keep you from that”

“I know I don’t want that” Jimin gripped your hips possessively, pulling you impossibly closer. “I don’t care. I love you”

A tear rolled down your cheek. The hurt that you so blissfully ignored moments before, returning.

“I’ll meet Dr. Kim Namjoon at the conference in a few days. He can check for us, and then”

“You already know though, don’t you?” Jimin challenged. “You think we aren’t compatible”

You paused. “Well I—”

“Go ahead, doctor” Jimin smiled, a hint of despair in his gaze, “Go meet your soulmate. No one in this universe will love you the way I do, I am sure of it. So sure that I’ll take the chance of losing you forever if it means you’ll believe me one day”

He began to get emotional. You ached for him. Ached for the pain he felt in his chest. The pain you didn’t want him to feel.

Your hand rested on his chest. Feeling the beat of his heart against the tense silence.

He kissed you again. Desperately. His fingers tugging your panties aside as his now hard cock slid against your folds.

You kissed him back—even more desperately. Savoring whatever you had left with him. Losing yourself in him as though time were running out. Spreading your thighs to grant him entrance, he fucked into effortlessly. Filling you up until you felt so right—so whole. He stilled, nose tracing yours as he gazed into your eyes.

Tears threatened the edges of his pretty brown eyes.

“I don’t trust them Y/n” He whispered, the tear unleashing, “What if they brainwash you—what if seeing your soulmate resets your brain chip and—” He gasped, lip trembling.

“I won’t forget you, Jimin” You assured him with a comforting hand stroking his back.

“You don’t know that” Jimin gulped.

The true fear in his eyes hit you like a reality check. Reminding you that this man had no trust in the system, and you were asking him to take a gamble on it.

“Maybe you’re not supposed to know about the Placebo. Maybe they’ll do something to you, and me—and you’ll be in danger and I won’t know”

You kissed him sweetly. “Baby” You mumbled, knowing you’d never called him that— “Don’t think like that”

“I mean the fact that we fell in love, without the compatibility assessment, means the whole system is bullshit—doesn’t it? They could pick any two people and condition them to love one another with the chip. That’s not something they’d be okay with people knowing”

“N-not necessarily” You sighed. “Baby—move” You urged him, as if he forgot his cock was nestled deep inside of you. He hadn’t.

He gave you a tight thrust. Your lips parted, and he did it again, watching your expression intently. He held you close—you held him close. He buried his face into your neck, pushing you onto your back so he could fuck you deeper. His hips slammed against yours, deep, quick thrusts that you could feel throughout every inch of your body.

“You’re heaven” Jimin gasped, kissing your cheek again, “I don’t think you fucking understand what I feel for you, doctor—I swear I”

“I do, Jimin” You assured him, “I feel it” He began fucking you faster. “And I love you”

He stilled so he could kiss you again. “Say it again” He begged, “Please. Say it, mean it, please”

“I love you” You stared into his starry eyes. His fingers intertwined with yours, pushing your arms above your head as he resumed his ruthless pace. His lips pasting against yours in between your confession, “I love you Jimin—I do—So much”

He burst inside you, but he couldn’t stop. The moment was too charged, too emotionally ripe. He kept himself sheathed inside of you, cum stuffed deep. Hugging you close, he kissed you—a man addicted, and you were his vice.

You fell asleep, at some point.

You heard him whisper against your eyelids—I won’t give up, at some point.

You woke up, at some point.

He was gone.

You—

You arrived at the conference. You hadn’t heard from Jimin since that night—but preparation kept you distracted. This was a huge moment for your career—and you’d worked too hard to fall short now.

Jungkook was by your side, dressed in a light grey suit—the conference badge contrasting the plain white button-down shirt that gripped his chiseled chest. Around you were folks of similar adornment—chatting with their colleagues, setting up posters and grabbing coffee.  

“Good—you made it” Your boss, Jung Hoseok, who you loathed approached the both of you. “Is everything set up for my talk later?”

You exchanged an irritated look with Jungkook, who bit back a smile. “Yes, sir”

Dr. Jung hummed, pleased with your response. “Very well. Go network. This conference has the best of the best. Y/n, I know you were interested in meeting Dr. Kim, would you like me to make an introduction?”

You stiffened. Dr. Kim Namjoon. He was the most brilliant biochemist of your time. He single-handedly piloted the Soulmate initiative with the help of his neuro-engineering team. He developed the compatibility algorithm that you spent your whole life studying. Appreciating.

He was infamous. And it didn’t hurt that he was gorgeous too—you had all of his books, memoirs, magazine articles. It was safe to say you knew quite a bit about the man. And soon he’d be right in front of you. In the flesh.

“If you don’t mind” You held back your excitement, but your hand trembled, gripping onto the pamphlet that a volunteer had forced into your hold earlier. Dr. Jung nodded, motioning for you to follow him.

“I’ll come too, if that’s okay” Jungkook quipped. You made a face, but knew you had no right to take this opportunity from him either, as much as you preferred to meet him alone to discuss your dilemma.

Up the elevator, Dr. Jung led the both of you to the top floor of the hotel in which the conference was taking place. From the clear glass, you could see the city sprawled out—serene, snow beginning to melt off of the ground. More folks were out and about. Children playing in the now cleared-up parks. Spring was coming, soon.

You stepped out of the elevator, and were met with a series of guards lining the hallway. It made sense; you mused. Kim Namjoon was a high-ranked State scientist. Which meant he was a prime target for a Resistance kidnapping or attack.

Your lips wavered. A part of you was disappointed at the lack of hope you had that you’d find out you and Jimin were compatible. Your gut knew you weren’t. But you loved him, so it could be. It could be him, right?

Why did you love him, if you weren’t compatible? It was so easy to think of all the reasons—so simple in your mind, but hard to find the words. You trusted him with your life. He was attractive, kind, in a bad situation but had big dreams. Dreams to make change, and you admired that.

As you walked past the guards, Jungkook’s hand brushed against yours. You looked his way and he winked at you excitedly. “You ready?”

He whispered against your neck. Too close—maybe it hadn’t been before, but now it felt too close. Nevertheless, you smiled back at him and nodded.

It occurred to you that Jungkook might be your real soulmate.

“Namjoon!” Dr. Jung opened the double doors to the suite. You took the room in. Hardly a room—there was a whole lab set up in there. Humming with the soft whirr of state-of-the-art machinery, bright white lights everywhere. Translucent monitors display complex molecular structures and neural pathways. Simulations.

The middle of the room had a holographic interface projected a three-dimensional model of a chip. The chip. Tiny filaments extended from the chip, resembling delicate neurons connecting to an unseen network.

Your heart skipped a beat. This was paradise.

There was not a drop of chemicals in this lab. Everything was tech-based, simulation and modeling predicting chemical interactions, hormonal regulation, neural response and bodily action.

“Hey Hobi” You heard a low, smooth voice. Your clenched your fingers into your palm. Taking a deep breath, you turned the corner where Dr. Kim was sitting.

God.

He sat casually on a stool set up by a plain workstation. He was dressed in a black turtleneck, black trousers—his black hair gelled up. You’d neve seen him without a white-coat on, as that’s how he tended to appear in media pictures. Here, in front of you now, he was relaxed. He was just a person. He was a man.

His dimpled smile made your throat tighten. A smile that reached his eyes with such a genuine glimmer. He greeted Dr. Jung with a suave fistbump, exchanging some words with him before chuckling lightly, patting him on the back and swiveling his chair towards you and Jungkook.

His smile widened.

“Hey there” He nodded his head politely. Both you and Jungkook bowed slightly. “So you’re the poor kids who got looped into helping this motherfucker” Your eyes widened at his comment, but Dr. Jung simply rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah—I’ll see you downstairs. Drinks tonight? The usual?” Dr. Jung pointed at him for confirmation as he reached the door. Namjoon nodded.

“Of course Hobi, I’ll see you later” He redirected his full attention to the both of you, shutting the computer in front of him. “Please, take a seat” He motioned behind him and a small robot pushed two stools over to where you were standing.

“I’m Y/n L/n” You extended your hand to him.

“Ah yes, I’ve heard about you. You study my work, huh?” He winked, making your face rush with heat. His eyes passed over to Jungkook. “And you?”

“Jeon Jungkook, honored to be here, sir”

“Good. Good, so tell me about yourselves”

“Actually” You exhaled. “Dr. Kim, if you don’t mind—there’s a matter I’d like to discuss with you”

He raised his eyebrows. Folding his arms over his strong chest in a way that made you aware that this man worked out, he leaned back. “Oh, sure. Let’s hear it then”

You were about to speak when Jungkook interrupted.

“Y/n’s soulmate was a placebo. We’d like to run the compatibility test to find out who her real soulmate is”

Your mouth felt dry. Namjoon’s eyes flashed with interest, gaze remaining steady on you.

“How’d you figure it out?”

You looked at Jungkook.

“I uh, hacked some data” Jungkook confessed, shyly.

Namjoon let out a soft laugh.

“Well alright. As you know, any scientific RCT trial needs a control group. We use these placebos to understand the actual effect of the Soulmate algorithm’s deployment on the outcomes of interest. Procreation, individual health and wellness, etc.”

He was speaking to you. Directly to you, even though Jungkook was right by your side.

“The way the chip works is that you see someone who surpasses your compatibility threshold. There isn’t one soulmate. I suppose there could be, but we have to factor in proximity and chance for encounter. That’s why the microchip will only give the Soulmate signal once you meet someone who has also passed the cognitive-sexual threshold who surpasses your compatibility level. Another threshold, unique to each person and defined by many metrics”

It was nothing you didn’t know. Jungkook on the other hand, was fascinated.

“Wait so, both and Y/n and I were past out cognitive-sexual threshold and we saw each other all the time before she met…her placebo. I didn’t meet her compatibility threshold?”

Namjoon seemed to bit back a giggle. “Well, Jungkook? Is it? Right, it goes both ways. She didn’t meet yours either” His eyes flashed at you. You couldn’t help but notice that they were honey-brown, almost gleaming gold in the light.

Jungkook seemed to recede into himself.

“Is there a way I can check my compatibility with my placebo soulmate?” You asked, tugging at your sleeves.

“Well, I suppose” Namjoon took a second to think, “If you know where they are right now, and get to them without looking too many people in the eye” He chuckled.

Right, you mused.

“Because if you reset my chip, and I see someone else, it’ll register they’re my soulmate before I can even look Jimin in the eye” You mumbled.

“Exactly. We can do that, if you’d like. But no law says you must be romantically involved with your soulmate. Either way, your choice is still your own”

You gulped. You just had to know.

“Please, if it’s alright, can you reset my chip?” The words felt like acid leaving your mouth. Namjoon shrugged nonchalantly.

“Sure thing. Jungkook—this is a medical procedure, technically. We will need some privacy”

“Oh, right” Jungkook scrambled to his feet, rushing out the door rather quickly. Namjoon reached for a tablet set near the window and tapped a few buttons. Some robots arrived, removing the table and stools and setting up a medical bed in it’s place.

“Do you not like your placebo soulmate?” Namjoon asked, while the robots were at work.

“Actually I like him a lot.” You confessed. “But I believe so strongly in the benefits of your algorithm. So I just need to know for sure”

Namjoon squinted at you, but nodded.

“Do most placebos work out?” You blurted, covering your stomach with your crossed arms. “Is there a statistically significant difference between outcomes with truly compatible soulmates and placebo ones?”

A grin tugged at Namjoon’s lips. The robots finished setting up the medical equipment and he motioned for you to lie down.

“What do you think, Y/n?” Namjoon mused as he connected a few wires to the back of your neck. “Do you think placebos would work out the same way? Is believing someone is your true love enough to make you love them?”

You gulped. His fingers brushed against your nape as he plugged in your chip. 

Until it hit you.

“It doesn’t matter” The thoughts came to you as the words left your mouth, “It isn’t even about love. Compatibility. Or health.” Your eyes quivered as you noticed Namjoon’s grin widening.

“I-It’s about your faith in the State” You drawled, “If you believe in the State—in the Soulmate Initiative, then it’ll work. And if you don’t—”

You sat upright suddenly, feeling uneasy. Jimin’s fears echoing in the back of your mind.

“Don’t worry—you did fall in love. You clearly believe, so you have nothing to worry about.” Namjoon admired you for a moment. “You’re very smart, Miss. Y/n. It’s a shame it took us until now to meet”

Namjoon proceeded to tap a few more things on his tablet.

“Now before we do this, you should know. There is a small chance the reset will cause both you and your placebo soulmate to forget that you’ve seen each other. Not to worry, though, I can make sure that you head his way after the procedure to see if you two are compatible”

You gripped the edges of the seat with your trembling fingers.

“But don’t worry, you’ll be unharmed”

Forgetting Jimin—that’s harm. That’s fucking harm. Your mind was screaming warning.

“Wait actually I don’t—”

“Relax,” Namjoon placed a hand gently on your shoulder, pushing you back to your chair. “I’m here. I’ll tell you to go find this fella and look him straight in the eye before anyone else. You can trust me”

Strangely enough, you believed him.

“Okay”

“What’s his name?”

You hesitated. Drawing attention to Jimin’s citizen file wasn’t a smart idea given what you knew about him.

“P-park Jimin”

“Good. Now close your eyes. This might give you a brief migraine”

Jimin—

It had been pathetic. Jimin showed up at the steps of Jin’s home—the home he shared with a few other members of the resistance. It was late—he could hear the debauchery happening inside loud and clear. The familiar stench of tobacco and liquor radiated from the dim light behind the shuttered windows.

He inhaled sharply. He spent the whole day wandering. Trying to drown himself in schoolwork until even that seemed pointless. He needed a distraction. Something to ease the pain. Until he figured out how the hell he would get you back. He needed anything.

He sat down on the splintered porch steps, ignoring the fleet of giggles from what he assumed were sex workers. Staring at his palms, he recalled the sensation of your touch. His fingers curled into his palm, wishing your hand was there but instead grasping at the crisp late winter air.

“Well look here,” Jin’s familiar voice boomed from the entryway. Jimin looked back to see him, a flimsy tank top under his leather jacket which was being pulled off by a beautiful, voluptuous woman. “Ay, fuck off whore—that’s my little brother and oh,” Jin pouted, shoving the woman off of him, “He looks so sad” Jin leaned down to tug Jimin’s cheeks in a way he always used to do when Jimin was younger.

“Why you sad baby boy?” The woman cooed, “If you’d like, I can make it all better”

Jimin rolled his eyes, “No, thank you.” Redirecting his attention to Jin who slid down to sit by his side, a bottle of beer in his hand— “God, doesn’t it ever get a bit old hyung?”

Jin scoffed, “I’ve had about enough of you sitting on your high horse and judging us, Jimin. You are one of us. We’re at war. Well—” He took a sip, “We will be, soon enough, and we need you. Your brother was��”

Jimin hissed. Jin took the hint, luckily.

“Look,” His tone grew serious, “We had one of our mole’s hack into the microchip database. We were right. The kind of data they collect and the way they use it to strategically puppet aspects of our society—it’s robbing free will. Altering memories. Manipulating thought through exposure and environment. And because there’s not specific legislature that oppresses people, they play it off as the way the world works. No. They built these structures, Jimin-ah. We have proof.”

Jimin gazed up at the obscured night sky. Clouds veiled any semblance of starlight, mirroring the shadow over his thoughts.

“She isn’t even really my soulmate” Jimin chuckled bitterly. “It was a fucking placebo”

Jin stared at him for a moment, before his eyes softened with pity. “Fuck Jimin,” He handed him the bottle. Jimin took it, sipping the sour & bitter liquid. “You really like the bitch, huh?”

“Hyung” Jimin snapped. Jin simply chuckled.

“My bad, my bad. The scientist. Whatever the fuck her name is. Listen. If you want to know if your feelings are genuine or not, you need to take out your microchip. It’s the only way you’d know for sure. The fact that there is a placebo cohort for something like this is kinda fucked up. Whatever happened to ethics?” Jin scoffed. Jimin took another swig of the beer.

Should he? Should he take it out? The microchip was the physical embodiment of the state's reach into his very soul.

Jin could sense that Jimin was considering his idea.

“Honestly, it’s about damn time you did Jimin. Things are getting serious around here. We’re going to start taking real action, advocating for our cause. We want you in—we’ve always known you’re a smart kid. Good with words and all that. Hell, you’re not meant for the battlefield Jimin. You’re meant for a throne”

Jimin set the bottle down, again looking up to the skies. “I don’t want a throne. I just want to not be a fucking puppet anymore. For them, or for you guys”

“Then take what’s yours. This is what your brother wanted, Jimin. Be more involved. Take charge. Your girl didn’t give up on you—the state fucking manipulated her to give up on you. They took everything from you—it’s damn time you see that. It’s damn time you fight for what you deserve”

Fight. He was going to fight for you. He had promised you that. Promised himself that.

He reached for the back of his neck.

“Fuck the State” He mumbled, “I want this out. Let’s go”

Jin grinned ear to ear, “Fuck yeah!” He patted Jimin on the ack excitedly. “We’ve got a bot that can do it in the back, come on”

You—

“Y/n?” The soft call echoed in the sterile room. Your eyes, weighed down by the fog of unconsciousness, fluttered open. The harsh fluorescent lights above you forced a squint. A lingering scent of antiseptic filled the air, accompanied by the gentle hum of machines.

Behind you, a subtle tug and disconnect confirmed the unplugging of your chip from the machine. The cool room air kissed your skin, sending a shiver of unease through you.

“Good, your vitals are all normal. You’re doing great,” Namjoon's voice reassured. Turning, you saw his back as he typed notes on his laptop.

It came back to you: where you were. Who you were. Everything seemed to click. Your heart seemed to hurt. You couldn’t understand why.

“Do you remember Park Jimin?” Namjoon asked. You blinked in his direction.

“Who?” Your response was automatic, a clouded memory of someone fading into obscurity. The emptiness inside of you seemed to pulse.

Namjoon continued typing, his focus on the screen. “There’s a man,” he hummed, “I need you to go directly to him and look him in the eye to see if he is your soulmate or not. His file suggests he may be at the University Law Library. Try to minimize eye contact with strangers as you head there.” Namjoon turned back around.

You looked at him.

In those honey eyes. Those sweet, smiling, kind eyes.

A sharp pain in your neck burned.

They say you’ll just know.

­come scream in my asks! thanks for reading you hotties~ lmk what you think <3

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4

[seeingivy]

family rules 

satoru gojo x f! reader 

**read the other one’s here

in which a horrible fight, an even worse accident, and a few injuries leads to you, satoru, megumi, and tsumiki creating some family rules  

- 

Megumi sits across from you on the counter, his eyes narrowing at the ground, as you press a pack of frozen peas into his eye. He winces at the contact, his eye still swelling into a brilliant shade of purple. 

“I don’t know what I’m going to do with you, kid.” you whisper. 

His head remains low, refusing to meet your eye. After his fourth fight of the month, you feel helpless with where you stand with him, unsure how you can help him regulate how he’s feeling. You knew violence was an easy outlet for him, something you’re sure you had Toji to thank for, but you still tried to get him to change his ways, at least a little bit. 

Satoru’s approach, however, was squandering any efforts you were trying to make. The first time Megumi got into a fight, Satoru was positively pissed, not because Megumi punched a classmate, but because he didn’t place his thumb inside his fist. It was very infuriating for him to find out his kid couldn’t punch the right way. 

The second and third fights were hardly any different, Satoru majorly concerned with whether or not Megumi won, or if he hurled any insults while fighting, rather than actually reprimanding him. You knew Satoru could be immature, like a gangly man-child at times, but you were growing frustrated with his carefree nature as of late. 

At the end of the day, the two of you were responsible for Megumi. Tsumiki was easier in that sense, more receptive to the help you gave her. Slowly but surely, she had been coming out of her shell, coming to you and Satoru for help when she needed it. But Megumi was a stone cold rock, stubborn as they come. A blazing ball of anger. 

You hear Satoru’s key jam into the door, ready to brace yourself for the talk you wanted to have with Megumi. You had texted Satoru earlier in the day, letting him know that Megumi had gotten into another fight and the two of you needed to have a talk from him. 

He pads into the kitchen, a pale pink box resting in his hands. He places the box on the counter, pressing a swift kiss to your head and then Megumi’s. As he raids through the fridge, you open the box out of curiosity and feel your blood boiling. The cake says congratulations megumi in pale blue frosting. 

“Megs, do you mind joining Miki upstairs for a minute? I need to speak with Gojo over here.” you say, straining a smile at him. 

Both Megumi and Satoru’s eyes widen, the use of his last name signaling to Megumi that he should leave while he still can. Megumi stalks away, taking his bag of frozen peas with him. 

“You have got to be kidding me, Satoru. You bought him a cake for punching another kid in the face?” you say, clenching your fists in efforts to stay calm. 

“It’s just a joke, my love. No harm done. I’ll talk to him about it later. You know, all that cheesy stuff you say - words before violence, be the bigger man by walking away.” he says, pressing a consolation kiss to your cheek as he sets out plates for dinner. 

You cross your hands over your chest, absolutely livid with him. How can he be so calm about this?  

“Satoru, be serious for one minute. Megumi is our responsibility. You’re doing him a disservice if we keep letting him process his anger this way. Don’t lead him down the wrong path.” you say, turning towards him.  

He turns to face you, clearly frustrated with your insistence. You knew he thought you were a little bit of a stickler, the complete opposite of his carefree nature, but he usually loved you for it. However, your differences came with butting heads often, especially when it came to Tsumiki and Megumi. 

“I’m not leading him anywhere wrong. You’re setting him up for failure if you tell him to keep letting kids push him around like that. You’re the one leading him down the wrong path.” he states, crossing his arms across his chest. Childish, even during a fight. 

“Solving your problems with fists isn’t always the answer, Satoru. This is why he doesn’t talk to us when we ask him what’s wrong. We have to wait for him to explode, just to find out he was suffering the entire time.” you respond, clenching your fists so hard you’re sure you’ve drawn blood.  

“Whatever problem he has, I’ll deal with it. Remember, he’s my kid, not yours. My responsibility. So I’ll figure out what’s best for him moving forward.” 

He waits for a response, his eyes still boring into yours. You don’t bite back, but instead turn around to face the door, the tears welling in your eyes. 

“All quiet now, Y/N? Have nothing to say to me?” he says. 

“No, I don’t.” you bite back, bitterness evident in your voice. 

“And why’s that? You sure had a lot to say a few minutes ago.” 

“Because. He’s your kid. Not mine. It’s not really my business what he does, is it?” you spit back, turning to him with your tear filled eyes. 

As much as you can care for Megumi, he’s right. Tsumiki and Megumi are technically his kids, you’re just his girlfriend who happened to stick around once they arrived. And as much as you can care and love the two of them, that doesn’t earn you a place in their family. 

You feel Satoru’s fingers crawl around your wrist, his face softer than it was minutes ago. 

“Hey, hey. Wait a minute.” 

You shrug his wrist off, grab your keys, and run out the door. There’s no point in staying somewhere you don’t belong in the first place. 

 - 

You ignore Satoru for a few hours, currently eating ramen on a very annoyed Shoko’s couch. Nanami was here as well, having been around helping her hang some paintings in her room. You feel your phone buzzing on the other side of the couch, sure it’s Satoru spam calling you after you had been ignoring his texts.

He had been texting periodically every thirty minutes, but had resorted to calling for the past ten. Shoko thinks you should slap him once, set him straight for good. Nanami thinks the two of you should talk it out, maybe explain where you’re both coming from. 

You choose to ignore both of their advice, opting to watch Ten Things I Hate About You and diminish Shoko’s ramen supplies one bowl at a time instead. 

Shoko runs into the room, followed shortly by Nanami, who has a phone pressed to his ear. They’re both rushing around the room, putting on their shoes and shoving random items into a bag.

“Y/N, get up. Right now! We have to go.” says Shoko, placing your shoes in front of you as you still pace the room. 

You stand up, moving slowly for your shoes. They’re both still rushing around you, filling the backpack with an extra pair of clothes and the entire bunch of bananas sitting at the counter. 

“Where are we going?” 

They seemed to have missed the question you had just asked. Shoko nearly falls rushing upstairs to grab something, a sense of urgency present in the two of them as they move around you. 

“Do you know Megumi’s blood type?” says Nanami, as he hands you a hoodie to wear. 

“His blood type? Why do you need his blood type?” you say, pulling his hoodie on. 

“Satoru and Megumi. They got into a car accident. They’re both at the hospital now.” he says, your blood turning cold. 

He places his hand to your shoulder, squeezing once in support. A car accident. They both got into a car accident. You look up at Nanami, his brown eyes filled with concern. 

“O negative. His blood type is O negative.” you whisper, grabbing your phone from the couch and heading out the door with the two of them. 

As you scroll through the notifications on your phone, you realize the person calling you wasn’t Satoru, it was the hospital. You were the first emergency contact, followed directly by Nanami, who had actually picked up the phone. 

Nanami nods in response, relaying the blood type on the phone. The three of you file into the car, Shoko sitting with you in the back, her hand clasped into yours. 

“I know all the doctors there, they’re going to be just fine.” she says, securing her seatbelt on.  

You nod, twiddling with your house key in your pocket. You pull out your phone, texting Tsumiki to see where she is. Nanami had only mentioned Satoru and Megumi, the thought of her sitting all alone in a room somewhere worsening your mood all together. As you open your phone, you finally read all of Satoru’s texts, the one’s he sent after your fight. 

i’m sorry love 

you know i didn’t mean it 

just come back, you know he’s our kid 

you’re a part of our family 

i know you’re right. he shouldn’t be punching people every time he disagrees with them. i just have trouble being too hard on him, i don’t want to be like my parents 

not an excuse. i know i’m in the wrong. we can have the talk with him like you wanted. just come back y/n. 

kids are getting real upset with you gone, they miss you already 

we’re coming to get you. 

You drop your phone onto the floor of the car, the tears flowing freely now. They were coming to get you. You’re the reason they were in that car in the first place. 

Shoko places a hand to your back, directing you to calm your breathing as you enter the parking lot. Nanami parks the car and you’re rolling out of the car, your feet dragging you the doors of the Emergency Department. 

As you enter the waiting room, you spot Tsumiki sitting on the chair alone, her cheeks pink from crying. You run over to her, crushing her in your embrace. You feel her cry against you, separating to check she wasn’t injured. 

“The blood, it’s not mine. It’s Satoru’s.” she says, hiccuping in between her words from crying. 

You feel a tightness in your chest, feeling nauseous at the thought of how much blood is on her shirt. How much blood did he lose? You cross your heart that he’s still conscious at the least, so you can tell him how sorry you are for leaving in the first place. 

“Megumi?” you ask, still holding her in your arms. 

“He cut his arm, but I think they said he was going to be okay. They won’t let me in since I’m not over fourteen.” 

“That’s okay. Stay here with Auntie Shoko and Uncle Nanami. I’ll go ahead and check on them and come back okay?” you say, pressing a kiss to the top of her forehead. 

“I want to be a part of your family.” she says, her eyes colored red. You feel your heart squeeze at her words, slightly upset at yourself for even putting that idea in her mind in the first palace. 

“You are a part of my family, Miki. Me and Satoru were just having a little disagreement, that’s all.” you respond, squeezing her hand twice before heading towards the doors of the ER. 

You brace yourself, pushing the two double doors open. You see Satoru’s white hair first, lying in the bed directly across from the doors. He’s hooked up to two IV’s, his eye a brilliant purple. 

You walk in, grabbing his hand in yours. His eyes flutter open, his eyes softening at the sight of you across from him. He squeezes your hand twice, wincing as he sits up in his bed to face you. 

“If you put on a cute little nurse's uniform, we could live out one of my biggest fantasies right now.” he whispers, his hand caressing the side of your cheek. 

You laugh through your tears, cursing his idiocy in moments like this. He’s okay. He’s making perverted sex jokes while he’s in a hospital bed. He’s more than okay. You look back at him, his blue eyes staring into yours. You can feel the tears flowing out of your eyes, your neck drenched in your tears. 

“Hey, hey. I’m okay.” he says, opening his bandaged arms for you to enter his embrace. 

“Don’t do that again, ‘Toru. I thought you left me. You’re the only family I have.” you say, pressing your face against the side of his neck, taking in his familiar musky smell. 

“Excuse me little lady. You’re the one who left me. You’re the only family I have too. Can’t believe you thought otherwise for even a second.” he says, his hand running through the side of your hair. 

“You just seemed so mad. And technically, he is your kid.” 

He tightens his grip, pulling you away from his chest to look at you. 

“He’s our kid. I got mad but that’s what family does, love. We disagree, get into a fight, but come back to each other at the end. Kind of broke the rules by walking away, silly girl.” he says, his fingers poking into the soft of your cheek. 

“We don’t have any rules. But, I won’t walk away again.” you say, cupping his face in your hands. 

“Better not. I’ll crash the car again to bring you back.” 

You glare at him, squishing his face tighter in your hands. Still immature, even in a hospital bed. 

“There’s that downright horrifying glare I love.” he laughs, pressing a kiss to your forehead. You smile in response, pressing a kiss to his cheek in response. 

“Where’s Megumi?” you ask, settling back into his arms. 

“Getting stitches. I tried to join him back there, but they wouldn’t let me.” he says. 

“I’ll send Miki in to sit with you. She’s out there crying puddles. I’ll try to see if I can go in there and hold his hand.” 

He nods in response, letting go of you as you get off the bed next to him. 

- 

You watch Tsumiki run into Satoru’s arms as soon as she enters the double doors with you. You watch him hold her close, whispering into her ear as you cross the hallway to find Megumi. 

Before you grabbed Tsumiki, Satoru had mentioned that Megumi and Tsumiki had heard parts of your fight and seemed slightly bothered by the entire ordeal together. Tsumiki’s comment from earlier suddenly made a lot more sense to you. 

You find Megumi at the end of the hallway, wincing at the doctor putting stitches in his hand. When you reach his bed, you press a kiss to the top of his head, holding his free hand in yours. Your tears have returned, the relief flooding through you that your kid is mostly still intact. 

He squeezes your hand as the doctor continues, salty tears streaming down his face. You swipe your fingers across his cheek, wiping away the wetness with your hands. 

“Are you mad at me?” he whispers, his eyes still narrowed towards the ground. 

“No. Are you mad at me?” 

“No.” 

The two of you sit in silence, your hands still pressed together as the doctor continues the stitches. You can’t help but stare, eyeing Megumi for any signs of pain as time goes on. He has a long gash running down the length of his arm, a few pieces of glass lodged near his wrist. 

“I won’t fight anymore.” 

You shoot him a weak smile, letting him lean his head against your shoulder. The two of you sit in silence for a while, with him rubbing circles into the side of your hand as the doctor finishes. You and Megumi walk out of the hallway, his arm fully bandaged, to meet Tsumiki and Satoru back outside. 

Tsumiki runs over, crushing you and Megumi into a hug. You see Satoru’s shoulders relax at the sight of Megumi, running his hands through the kid's hair as the two of you walk up to them. 

You bend down, holding the two of them in your arms, with Satoru still sitting up in his bed. 

“So I was thinking.” 

“You can do that?” responds Megumi, effectively cutting off Satoru from whatever he was saying. 

You and Tsumiki laugh in response, you ruffling his hair. You swear you can see the makings of a smile spreading across his face. 

“Since we’re a family…we have to lay down some ground rules. We never made any when we started living together. First, Tsumiki always has to do whatever I say.” 

The three of you glare at him, none of you finding his joke amusing. 

“I’m kidding, obviously. Tough crowd. My first real rule is for Megumi. You can’t punch someone every time you’re upset with them. No more fighting.” 

You smile at him, your heart beaming at his words. Megumi nods in response, agreeing to the first rule put out. 

“Second, we all stay together, no matter what. No walking away. We can argue all night for all I care, but no one walks away.” 

The three of you nod in response, agreeing again. Tsumiki speaks up this time, cutting Satoru off. 

“Three. No arguing if we can avoid it. At least not all the time anyways.” 

You and Satoru promise her you won’t fight, at least not like that again. The four of you huddle together, squeezing each other into the tightest hug known to man. 

“I have one.” says Megumi, whispering into your ears. You nod at him, telling him to speak up. 

“No one leaves the house without saying goodbye. You especially, Mom.” 

Mom. Mom. Megumi just called you Mom. You stare down at him, meeting his gaze. You can see Satoru gaping at the two of you in your peripheral vision. He pushes himself further into the hug, hiding his face against Satoru’s shirt, the tips of his ears pink. You look over at Satoru, smiling at him. You can feel his pouting starting already, you knew Satoru was competitive when it came to these things. 

You hold them all close, soaking in the warmth of the three of them against you. You feel Satoru’s hand tangle with yours behind Tsumiki’s back, his forehead resting against yours. 

“Hey, fifth rule. Everyone calls me daddy from now on.” 

Megumi and Tsumiki groan in response, disgusted by his choice of words. You lightly tug at the ends of his hair, signaling him to shut up and stop ruining your first moment as a family. The four of you head out of the ER, hand in hand, with a congratulations megumi cake waiting for the four of you at home. 

[mamayan]

★Yobai☆

Mitsuri Kanroji x Fem! Reader x Obanai Iguro

Synopsis: Someone put a strange idea in your girlfriend’s mind, and she’s roped you into a night of passion to seduce the Snake Hashira for his birthday.

Blame @desi-the-blue-eyed-kakushi this is becoming a thing lol I may just need to do an entire series… Original idea and inspiration for yobai from @rottmntrulesall ♥️

Read Kyojuro here, and Sanemi here, for their yobai nights!

tw: MFF • Fem! Reader • Sub! Reader • 3some • Vaginal Sex • Praise/Overstimulation • Soft Dom! Mitsuri • Switch! Obanai • Mitsuri calls you plum •

When your lover Mitsuri told you about her idea for celebrating Obanai’s birthday, you hadn’t imagined it to look like this.

Where she even got such an idea was lost to you, as you watched the beautiful pink haired girl bounced on her heels in excitement. You looked around the neat space, not a single object out of place. The bed made, clothes hung or folded, and there were no other personal items to be seen except for a poorly attempted embroidered snake set against a dresser. Mitsuri had taught you the basics and encouraged you to make something of your own. You’d made that nearly a year ago, for his birthday last year. It felt wrong and invasive to be staring at his things like this.

“Mitsuri… are you sure this is—,” she interrupted your soft murmur, her excitement just too high as it draws nearer for Obanai’s return from the bath. You tried not to think too hard about the broken lock to his estate’s front doors, or the fact that you’d been dragged along into a crime no less, breaking and entering. Obanai being a stickler for rules, most likely won’t take to this very well but… You side eye Mitsuri, her cheeks flushed and smile bright in place. She didn’t look nervous at all, and that realization struck you with a sense of instability. Mitsuri was always bold, gentle and empathetic too, but she was confident about everything but herself it seemed. You selfishly liked to think your love aided in her self esteem though, as her love did for you.

You wanted to think it would be the same for Obanai. You knew he returned Mitsuri’s affections, obediently following her and eager for her praise and attention, but your relationship wasn’t the least bit similar. You weren’t sure if it was a good or bad thing.

“Oh! I should go see if he has any candles, that’s romantic isn’t it? If he has enough, I can make a heart with them!” Her declaration and grin, as if the idea was so ingenious she couldn’t fathom why she hadn’t thought of it earlier, made you pause before you could object.

“M—,” she was gone. You were alone in Obanai’s room now, and the man himself was due any moment for… whatever this was exactly. To seduce him? Mitsuri had certainly painted a romantic and erotic image in your mind when she’d had two fingers in your pussy, breathing salacious images for you to conjure as you drew nearer and nearer to your orgasm. You’d been too engrossed to think clearly, agreeing of course to the promise of pleasure and inclusion of the man you adored.

You were about to give way to your own cowardice and make a run for it when the shoji slid open.

You had to duck to avoid his blade, panic and adrenaline flooding your system at the unexpected but also anticipated fight which would arise from entering unannounced to a sword master’s home. It only took Obanai a moment to realize you weren’t some sort of burglar or demon awaiting him. His hair was still slightly damp, his bandages removed and face on full display as he stood before you in a plain yukata with his sword pointed at you. Kaburamaru peaking out from around his neck, tongue flicking out as if in greeting.

“(Y/N)…?” His confusion is quickly replaced with irritation.

“I could’ve killed you, what are you doing here? At this time of night? Are you an idiot?” His voice and tone are icy, glaring heterochromic eyes narrowed on you. His sword is quickly sheathed as he stomps towards you, and it’s all you can do to stutter out “w-wait!” before he can haul you out of his estate. Although it’s certainly embarrassing to you, and you’re more than a little anxious and self conscious, you knew it would do more damage to not speak up with honesty.

His grip on your upper arm isn’t painful, but he’s firm in his hold that you aren’t able to squirm free. He tries to ignore the way you being in his room has him heating up, intent on dragging you home to your own bed to sleep properly. You were the weaker of the two, between him and Mitsuri, therefore Obanai was more cautious in your safety. “You should know better,” his hand raised, finger pointed and almost touching your skin as you flinch back reflexively. You knew realistically this reprimand is exceedingly light for Obanai, as you’ve seen his true wrath unleashed for stupidity on lower ranked slayers in the corps. It didn’t stop your eyes from watering a little, your lip from wobbling, or Obanai from nearly stumbling away from you.

“I just wanted to tell you happy birthday…” his left eye twitched at your words. Kaburamaru moving down his arms and sliding to the floor, slithering away from the strange quarrel going on.

“You could’ve easily said it in the morning, don’t cry—,” his hiss of guilt and annoyance not the least bit gentle. “It’s the middle of the night idiot! You shouldn’t—,”

“Shouldn’t what?” Mitsuri’s appearance had the Snake Hashira nearly turning to stone.

“Mitsuri too…?” He felt his nerves lighting up. As they always did in her presence. It wasn’t the same comforting warmth which you gave him, the kind that relaxed and soothed. Mitsuri was crackling and commanding.

“I didn’t find any candles, but we can make it romantic with just us anyway.” She grinned, unconcerned about her property damage which Obanai would surely find later. She pressed both Obanai and you back, closing the shoji behind her as she entered the room fully. You noted the room seemed smaller like this.

“Mitsuri, you shouldn’t be here either, I’m aware you both now just want to say congratulations, and thank you, but—,”

“We didn’t come here to say happy birthday silly, we came here to show it, right plum?” Your nickname caught your attention as reality sank back in. Numbly you nodded, not looking up as you studied the wood polish beneath your feet. “Which means come here~” she cooed. You snapped to attention, heart rate skyrocketing as you nervously shuffled closer to her. Her jade eyes soft and promising as you looked into them.

Obanai stayed silent, watching in an odd sort of fascination the dynamic you both shared. He was envious of both of you ironically. The dominance Mitsuri held over you, and the submission you gave Mitsuri. He held his tongue though, unsure what he was supposed to do now. Though he trusted and loved you both dearly, he still struggled to say it and even show it physically.

Mitsuri led the room.

“You want to show Obanai how grateful you are for him being born, so why don’t you get on your knees plum, let us both see your pretty mouth.” You obeyed, shakily dropping to your knees and opening your mouth like Mitsuri loves. Obanai would never be able to remove the erotic sight from his mind again.

“She’s offering her mouth for you to fuck Obanai, are you going to deny her and make her sad?” He’s dazed and startled by Mitsuri’s change in tone, her beautiful eyes sharper and trained on him. Her hand is placed gently on your head, and you leave your own in your lap as you wait with an unsure mind.

“She’s nervous because you’re waiting…” you hear her murmur, but your eyes are trained on the sharp lines of his scars. When his eyes connect with yours, something dark passes through them, but he wordlessly begins untying his belt. His lips are set in a frown, but his cheeks are warm and flushed.

“Does she even deserve my cock though?” You nearly break and close your mouth, as Obanai grips his hard aching cock and positions it just before your lips. Not touching though. “She hasn’t asked for it at all.”

Your eyes widen. Mitsuri giggles.

“P-please, Obanai, I want you to fuck my mouth,” it felt as humiliating as always, just as flustered as when Mitsuri makes you beg.

He’d never admit it drove him wild, having you like this. Like he’d awoken to some sort of fever dream and conjured you up before him. Sitting with your mouth open, begging for his cock. This sort of thing only happened in novels he believed.

He grunts, sneering down at you and making the scars on his face more menacing. They seemed to enhance his features with his mood. “You asked,” he murmured, before sliding the tip of his cock in your mouth. He still smells a bit like soap, his taste neutral as he moans, muttering something beneath his breath before his lips are stolen aggressively by Mitsuri. He doesn’t mean to shove himself deeper in your mouth, but you relax and let his cock brush back and forth inside your mouth, getting a little deeper as time goes on.

A hand is on the back of your head, keeping if you from pulling away. The soft but firm touch familiar and letting you know it’s Mitsuri as Obanai’s cock dips a bit too deep and gags you. You can’t pull away despite choking, tears pricking your eyes even as your core throbs painfully. You want him inside of you, desperately, but this isn’t you leading so you stay where you are and let him continue ravishing your mouth.

“Mm, Obanai, aren’t you just adorable? Well? Does her wet little mouth feel good? Do you want her to make your pretty cock cum?” You shiver at her arousing choice of verbiage, her sly tone teasing as Obanai’s hips jerk and he groans low in his throat.

“Fuck, yes, Mitsuri, I want to fill her mouth.” His voice sounds strained as he works his cock at odd depths and varying speeds in your mouth, poking into your cheek as he watches the skin protrude before sinking back into your throat.

“Good boy, go ahead, today is your treat. Go on and cum for us Obanai.” He loses it, his balls drawing tight as he moans and releases into your mouth and down your throat messily.

You’re made to take it, struggling to breathe through your nose as he rocks his hips and the fine curls of his pubic hair kiss your nose. He finally pulls out, Mitsuri’s hand now running through your hair soothingly. “So good for us plum.” Your blurry vision flicks up to her figure, her words encouraging you as you lean against her leg offered in support.

“She did such a good job… doesn’t she deserve a reward Obanai?” You blink the tears away, a few escaping down your cheek as Obanai stares at the pathetic and arousing sight you make. Your clothes still intact but your face being covered in his cum and your own salvia doesn’t help your decency. He can’t help the warmth spreading through him again, as he drops the rest of his clothing and moves to grab you up.

You’re swung lightly onto the bed.

“She’s an idiot that deserves more punishment than this but…” he’s close, pressing you flat against the futon and nearly kissing you. “I guess I’ll be nice this time. Say thank you.” He smirks when you do, the sight so confident it fills your heart as you look at him. There had been time he’d rather lose a limb than reveal his face, and while it’d taken longer to show you himself, and even longer to feel completely comfortable, it feels worth it now. His eyes daring but soft, because even as he calls you foolish he’s equally supporting and helping you despite it.

Your clothing is almost torn as he removes it from you, hissing complaints when he snags a knot or forgets there is a button. You aren’t even given time to feel self conscious, only aware in the back of your mind this is the most intimate you’ve ever been with him.

“I love you.” It’s said so softly he nearly doesn’t hear it clearly.

He stills, and Mitsuri, who’d crawled up beside your head to sit and watch, let her eyes flick up to your face. You lay so sweetly beneath them both, allowing them full control of your body because you trust and love them. Mitsuri is silent, only internally squealing at the cute way you decided to confess, only reaching to thread her fingers with your own as show of support while Obanai processes your words.

“You…” he’s frowning, brows pulled together and it the sight yanks at a ball of anxiety bundled in the pit of your stomach. “Do you even understand—,” he goes to lay into you, but you already know where he wants to go.

“I love you Obanai!” Half naked and huffing indignantly, you glare at him with all the force of a rabbit. Mitsuri is forced to turn her head away to conceal the laugh which threatened to break free. Unlike her though, Obanai is happy to glare back and even manhandle you. His hand grips your jaw, smushing your cheeks as he points down at you.

“You don’t get to confess first, I do,” he’s immature at the oddest times, but you’re helpless against him because he’s red like an apple and breathing heavily.

“There’s no rule that says—hah!” He smashes his lips against yours, and you can’t help but compare his kiss to Mitsuri. Where she’s warm he’s cool, his body temperature actually lower than your own by a little, but his mouth is warm inside as he forces your lips open to slip his tongue inside.

When he pulls back, a string of saliva connects you both for a moment before breaking.

“Fuck, you… You’re mine, do you hear me?” His confession isn’t as loving or sweet as yours, but his claim is encompassing. His forehead knocks against your own, and for a brief second, you see the conflict and doubt war in his dual colored eyes.

He’s nervous and scared.

It seemed to ironically dissolve your own fear. Your arms moving, Mitsuri allowing your hand freedom, to wrap around Obanai’s neck and kiss him, deeply, as if your lips could proclaim your love better than your voice. It could. It was less about dominance and more about warming one another up, as you felt Mitsuri’s fingers softly massaging your scalp as you kissed him. Obanai letting you lead for a moment as you moaned, his hands caressing your body and back to working on removing your clothes.

Mitsuri helped, happy to get you naked like him, and pleased when his eyes locked with her.

“You too…” he looked to the side, “please…”

“Ufufu, of course, I can’t let you two have fun alone tonight at least. We need at least three for a birthday party.” Her movements were quick and efficient, stripping herself and revealing each creamy inch of skin and captivating two sets of eyes. She doesn’t hesitate to let her hair free of her braids, proudly crawling back onto the futon to lean over you, kissing you with all the familiar sweetness she encompasses.

“Pretty plum, how do you feel?” She’s whispering, but your heart soars as she checks in on you, looking for any signs of distress. You were nervous, but as she touches you, caressing you with familiar hands, Obanai watches. How could he not? He wants to both step away and let you both continue all night and squeeze himself between.

It’s his birthday today though. Clearly he wasn’t going to be on the sidelines.

“Come here,” Mitsuri encourages, bringing him in for a similar kiss, and grabbing his hand to trail up her body. You watch hungrily, as Mitsuri shivers and smiles while Obanai palms her heavy chest. Mitsuri showing him exactly what she likes as she kisses his face and up to his ear, whispering something likely wicked as he moans and drops his head.

Her hand wrapped around his cock, moving her hand over the pretty swollen tip, reddened and leaking as she pumps it. “Mitsuri,” he gasps, back hunching a bit as she coos. “Obanai is so pretty too, isn’t he plum? He still needs to reward you~” he hissed as she jerks him a bit tighter, the pain and pleasure waring now.

“So pretty,” you affirmed, transfixed by the image of Obanai looking so overwhelmed. It’s usually you in that position. It felt oddly nice to see it in reverse. His eyes snap to you, and it’s like the image from a moment ago was a lie as he smiles wickedly, his hand moving to cup your pussy as you jolt in surprise.

“I do need to reward her, don’t I plum?” The condescending tone he adopts when using the nickname Mitsuri gave you is devious. You don’t hate it though, not as Mitsuri releases him in favor of tormenting you now.

He drops to his chest, yanking your legs apart as Mitsuri leans over you to capture a nipple in her mouth.

“W-wait—!” Your head falls as your back arches, a warm wet tongue licking straight up your pussy as another swirls around your nipple and sucks.

You’re helpless to the pleasure and attention, drowning even. Obanai isn’t experienced, but he’s eager and observant to every twitch and moan you release. He can’t help it, licking up your dripping arousal and lavishing your clit with his tongue, moaning at your taste and his painfully hard cock. He hums in appreciation as you gasp, one finger now working you open as he licks and swirls around your hardened clit. “Obanai~” his name on your lips is a gift in itself, but he’d never tell you. Instead he slips another finger in, eyeing you from below as he sucks on your clit and works your tight cunt open with firm consistent stokes inside of you.

“Mm, look at you plum, are you feeling good?” You nod weakly, moaning as Mitsuri sucks a few marks onto your skin.

“Please, Mitsu, you too,” you jolted in pleasure as Obanai blows cool air on your pussy. Mitsuri smiles, giving you a quick kiss before shifting and swinging a leg over your face.

Obanai can only moan as he watches Mitsuri settle her own dripping cunt over your face, your lips parting to lick at her.

He’s nothing if not observant.

Your tongue swirls around her clit, as she rocks and grinds down against you, and you find Obanai copying the exact way you eat Mitsuri. When you suck her clit, he sucks yours, and when you lick and let Mitsuri ride your face, he nearly smothers himself in you.

You lose it, your end coming quickly as you hold Mitsuri’s hips as she rides and bucks against your face, her moans long and sensual. “So good sugar plum, your mouth feels so good~ how is it? Is Obanai just eating your pussy so good?” You can’t even pull away to tell them you’re coming. Only able to weakly tap Obanai’s shoulder, but with his head between your legs, he’s hardly paying attention.

You cum, body shaking and locking up as your eyes roll back and the knot in your stomach snaps.

“Oh fuck,” he pulls away for a second to breathe, realizing your convulsing is your orgasm, and watching as you twist and moan into Mitsuri’s pussy. Your cunt soaking the futon beneath you as you try to scoot away from all the pleasure.

Mitsuri sits up, twisting around and settling again over you face, so she could face Obanai properly now.

“What’s wrong dear? Aren’t you going to fuck her pussy too?” He’s stunned by Mitsuri’s erotic display, pinching her breasts as she rides your face, moaning as you lick and suck greedily.

He more gentle spreading your legs wider, slotting himself in between to line his cock up with your tight entrance. He’d never admit to being nervous, but his eyes speak louder than words as they look to Mitsuri.

“Here, let me help~” she leans forward, bringing Obanai forward too with an arm around his neck while her other hand grips his cock and lined him up to your entrance again. “Now push,” she whispers, kissing his lips with so much love and encouragement, he melts. His tip breaches you, and your gasp and moan beneath Mitsuri encourages him further as he slowly lets himself sink inside.

“Ngh, shit, how are you so tight?” He’s panting when his hips finally touch your ass. His question rhetorical, as he slowly slides out, choking in pleasure as your gooey walls cling to his cock and try to deny him exit.

He sets a slow and somewhat experimental pace, grunting as you clamp down when Mitsuri teasingly twists a nipple. “So cute plum, doing so good, hah, taking his cock.” She’s close, and you can tell by how her powerful thighs lock up around your head, her weight becoming more evident as she fully relaxes. You can only grip her thighs and encourage her to let more weight rest on you. Too overwhelmed by the thick stretch and slight burn of Obanai’s cock piercing you.

It hurt but it felt good too. Especially when someone thumbs at your clit softly, rubbing and rolling it as you buck and moan back.

It’s not fast, as Mitsuri rocks her hips and Obanai thrusts into you, but the slowly building orgasm is enough to leave you light headed and struggling for sanity.

“Oh, plum I’m going to cum, hn~!” Her head thrown back and breasts bouncing, Mitsuri’s slick soaks your face as you lick and drink her down. Her skin reddened and sweaty by the passion building.

“I need to cum too,” Obanai’s moans becoming louder, his thrusts more sloppy and forceful as you get wetter and more vocal. Mitsuri comes down from her high before moving off of you, kissing Obanai before laying down beside you both to toy with your chest and kiss you. Obanai opts to grip your hips tight as he fucks you, the loud wet squelching of your pussy sucking him in driving him further as he groans. His tip repeatedly slamming into the spongey section of your cunt and driving you wild as you claw at his arms.

“s’too much! n-no m’gonna cum please, please let me, hii!” You squeal as tears falls, coming apart as Obanai meanly pinches your clit and throws you over the edge.

“Cum then, ah, fuck, m-me too!” His sweat drips down his nose and onto your chest as he watches your face, committing it to memory as your face twists in pleasure. Your cunt impossibly tight as it grips him as he finishes, pulling out just before his hot cum comes rushing.

He covers your chest and face shamelessly.

Mitsuri chuckles when a few drops hit her too, even thumbing a bit to slip into her mouth for Obanai to watch.

“Obanai, you taste sweet!”

He drops beside you, sandwiching you between him and Mitsuri. Like Mitsuri had done, he thumbs up a thick collection of his cum to press against your lips and force you to taste him. “Cute…” he mutters softly, looking more relaxed and sleepy.

You don’t fight it, sucking the appendage as moaning as you realize he really is a bit sweet, followed by somewhat salty and mildly bitter. You lazily suck his finger until he grows bored and pulls it free, wiping the saliva on your cheek and snickering when you whine.

“Happy birthday~ don’t fall asleep yet, I want to ride you next!” It’s your turn to snicker, watching the way his eyes go wide with a hint of worry and sleepiness.

He’d soon find out Mitsuri’s appetite is insatiable. You relaxed, happy to watch him get overwhelmed for now.

“Happy birthday Obanai,” you smile at him, loving how his face reddens further but he smiles back.

“Senjuro-kun!” Mitsuri was running towards the young boy sweeping the front porch, his eyes widening as he takes in the Hashira.

“Kanroji-sama, good afternoon,” he vows politely, smiling at the good natured slayer.

“What brings you here?” He asks curiously, eyeing what appeared to be a bento in her hands.

“I brought you lunch as a thank you! You really are a natural match maker you know?! It’s like love just flows so freely through you!” Her gushing attracts the attention of his older brother, who begins to open his mouth and greet his friend before he realizes what she’s gushing about.

He waits patiently until Mitsuri takes her leave, bento in his hands as he feels the looming presence of his older brother.

“Ah… I swear this time I didn’t mean to.”

“This time?”

“…” Kyojuro would need to speak with the women in their neighborhood, their gossip seemingly no good for a young boy’s ears.

[david-talks-sw]

I think it's interesting that - in order to make his "free-thinking Jedi" characters hold any semblance of rationality in their arguments - Dave Filoni needs to resort to artificially dehumanizing the other Jedi and painting them all with the same "we dogmatically worship protocol" brush.

He does this with Huyang in the recent Ahsoka episode.

"Lolz he's so narrow-minded, preachy and by-the-book, unable to think outside the box, just like the Jedi in the Prequels."

My first reaction was being amused at the fact that Filoni had to resort to making the Jedi Order's ideals and rules be embodied by a literal machine for his anti-Jedi headcanon to start making sense.

But then I remembered: Huyang isn't just any droid.

In The Clone Wars, he had a sassy personality, he had a pep in his step, he had a sense of humor...

This character was human in his behavior, he was fun and whimsical.

But now he's been reduced to, I dunno, "Jedi C-3PO"? Basically?

"Ha! He's blunt and unsympathetic because he's a droid, but it's funny because the Jedi were the same, they were training themselves to be tactless, emotionless droids."

And Filoni does this with Mace Windu too, in Tales of the Jedi.

Mace, who brought a lightsaber to the throat of a planetary leader to defend the endangered Zillo Beast...

... and who went waaay past his mandate by mischievously sneaking around Bardottan authorities and breaking into the Queen's quarters because he felt something bad was afoot...

... was reduced to being an almost droid-like, rule-parotting, protocol purist who sticks to his instructions (and is implied to be willing to let a murder go unsolved so he can get a promotion).

I mentioned this at the end of my first post on Luke in The Last Jedi... while changes in personality do happen overtime and can be explained in-universe... if you don't show us that progression and evolution and just leave us without that context, that'll break the suspension of disbelief, for your audience.

Here, we have two characters with a different (almost caricatural) personality than the one they were originally shown to have.

Now... we could resort to headcanons, to make it all fit together.

We could justify Huyang's tone shift 'cause "Order 66 changed him". And we could make explanations about TotJ's Mace:

Being younger and thus more ambitious and a stickler for the rules, and only really becoming more flexible after getting his seat on the Council and gaining more maturity.

Being such a teacher's pet in the episode because we're seeing him through the eyes of a notorious unreliable narrator, Dooku.

There'd be nothing wrong with opting to go with either of those headcanons to cope with this. After all, Star Wars is meant to help you get creative.

But the problem I encounter is that:

Filoni has an anti-Jedi bias, so the above headcanons clearly wouldn't really track with his intended narrative.

We'd be jumping through hoops to extrapolate and fill in what is, essentially, inconsistent characterization, manufactured to make Ahsoka and Dooku shine under a better light.

And that sours whatever headcanon I come up with.

Edit: Also, yeah, as folks have been saying in the tags... wtf is "Jedi protocol"? The term isn't ever mentioned in the movies, I skimmed through dialog transcripts of TCW, never saw it there.

So it's almost as if - if Filoni wasn't draining characters like Mace and Huyang of all humanity and nuance - his point about "the Jedi were too detached and lost their way, but not free-thinkers like Qui-Gon, Dooku and Ahsoka" wouldn't really hold much water.

[ricep0pp]

already having to relive the Octavian/Luke comparisons and i think i may in fact spontaneously combust.

the blatant misremembering of Octavians character simply because readers just went along with whatever the main cast thought is honestly a little bit infuriating. he's the most spectrum coded character in HoO and most of his actions up until he is literally *brainwashed by Gaea* are justifiable.

"b-but he destroyed Percy's pillow pet comfort item!!" okay, maybe think about how he has to do this with his own comfort items every day? it's literally his job and it's very likely that nobody has ever gotten upset with him over it before. and *Reyna told him to do this* so why are we mad at octavian if it was an order from the praetor to do an augur thing and the easiest way to do that was with an item that had a connection to Percy?

i will also never get over the banquet scene at the beginning of MoA. Octavian literally does nothing wrong here but the characters decide that they just really want to make him the butt of every joke simply because they find him 'annoying'.

after Reyna does the toast and Jason is recounting their rescue of Hera/Juno, Octavian interrupts him in an exclamation of disbelief that they hadn't noticed that the queen of the gods had been imprisoned in a location that was very important to the romans. is interrupting rude? yes, but he obviously seems distraught over the fact that Juno was unknowingly imprisoned. instead of politely explaining the full extent of the situation, what does Piper do? immediately use charmspeak on him.

next, when Percy praises Jason's skills ("No wonder they made you praetor."), Octavian immediately brings up the fact that they have three praetors now that Jason has returned. this is really important, especially from his perspective since he's such a stickler for rules and regulations. Percy decides to immediately abtagonize him, and then completely dismiss his frustration over Percy choosing to step aside for Jason. Octavian has every right to be offended over this, even if it's not necessarily the most correct time to bring it up. Percy antagonizes him, and then basically blatantly insults him by treating the position he's worked his entire life for as if it's nothing important.

after that, Reyna has Octavian recite the great prophecy, ignoring his hesitancy (that is entirely warranted considering greece and rome have been at war for literal millenia). when Annabeth recites the last two lines of the prophecy and Frank brings up her parentage, Octavian has a right to be skeptical. in rome, Minerva isnt even a war goddess, and doesn't have children. without understanding how the gods operate in their seperate forms, it's reasonable, considering they arrived in a war ship, are being lead by a child of a war goddess that they are wholly unfamilliar with in more ways than most of the other major gods, and are, in fact, greek, to be suspicious of the groups intentions.

when Annabeth and Percy list the seven demigods they believe should go on the quest, Octavian is again rightfully upset. There are rules and procedures that are being completely ignored, and by visitors that are already suspicious to him and have made it very clear that they do not care about his opinion, even though he's on the senate and *the fucking augur.* he is once again interrupted, but this time by the book itself as Tyson shows up.

Ella then recites the 'mark of Athena' prophecy, which Octavian *once again* has every right to know about. prophecies are his job, and his entire *personality* as far as camp jupiter is concerned. i understand that it basically says 'Annabeth will destroy rome' but her secrecy in regards to the quest her mother gave her has never once made sense and is not justified in any way. instead of even saying something simple along the lines of 'Athena made me swear to secrecy', Percy for some reason is made to be the character that needs rescuing (in a situation that has nothing to do with him) and Annabeth takes the opportunity to make Octavian into the fool in front of all of his peers. it feels even worse later on when Annabeth and Reyna discuss the prophecy but only to agree that it even *is* one, and for no purpose beyond that for several paragraphs.

THEN when Leo offers a tour of the Argo II to Octavian and Reyna *once again* dismisses his suspicions, she winds up partly to blame for the resulting attack, as well as Leo for never telling anyone about gaea, and Annabeth for not saying anything when she noticed Leo was acting off. when Gaea attacks CJ and Octavian relays to Annabeth that he saw Leo open fire on the city, she assumes he's pulling some trick to get them to fight each other. she had known him for all of maybe a few hours and for some reason, watching her friends and boyfriend openly bully him has convinced her that he could be evil?

mind you, all of the above events happened over the course of *two* chapters, both of which are from the perspective of Annabeth who had only just met Octavian.

he only really began doing things you could consider 'evil' once gaea had fullt brainwashed him and driven him mad. and even then, he gets a fucking joke death?? as the only character up to this point that i was ever able to identify with on an ASD level, that feels really shitty! and the fact that the fandom just jumped on the Octavian hate train really drives home how people cannot handle spectrum coding/writing/*people* unless its presented in a cutesie helpless way.

but back to the original point of Octavian being compared to Luke; Luke was scheming the *entire* time we knew him. He did not want to protect his home, he did not have any real morals or self imposed rules. all he cared about was getting back at Hermes for not showing he cared about him (which is kind of bs considering Hermes is one of the busiest gods in the pantheon but as a fellow neglected kid i get it.) Luke was willing to do this in any way, even if it meant literally destroying the world. Octavian was just trying to keep his home safe in the way that any historical roman would have.

You also kind of have to consider his background. he was left at camp as an unwanted baby. we dont even know if his parents named him or if the camp did. his only identity is that he's a legacy of Apollo with a gift that is incredibly useful to CJ. this, along with his very clear coding (whether intentional on Rick's part or not), only shows me a character that was always unwanted and outcasted from the only place he even could call home. he doesnt want to be praetor for power, he wants to be praetor to prove to everyone (and himself) that he's worthy of being one of them. if he wanted power for the sake of power he could easily use his augur position to manipulate his way up, but never once do we see him attempt this. it doesn't help that he's named after THE Gaius Julius Ceasar Augustus, the man that founded the fucking roman empire in the first place. imagine how that must feel? to have your identity tied to such massive, larger than life people? imagine feeling like you have to live up to that in a place that seemingly fucking hates you for existing and only keeps you around because youre useful??

i really wish people would stop blatantly villainizing Octavian, dudes literally just an 18 year old autistic kid that was victimized by Gaea. give him a break, please.

[pedgito]

Thinking of an modern! Eddie fic idea where the fruity for and the reader are all hanging out (doesn’t matter where) and the reader is flirting with a guy over text, she decides to go to the restroom and take some nudes but instead of sending them to the guy shes talking to she sends them to her best friend Eddie Munson who is sitting across from her. Eventual smut.

author's note: i took some liberties here and excluded the fruity four scenario, it just wouldn't fit the way this idea came to me so i hope you don't mind!

cw: 18+ (minors dni), modern!eddie, slightly inexperienced!eddie, confident!reader, established friendship, mentions of reader having lots of casual sex/partners, a little bit on pining/unrequited crushes, handjobs, if i missed anything lmk!

word count: 3.4k

You can’t help but feel a little regretful when your phone dings for the millionth time that night, screen light illuminating the darkness of the room, the only other light source being the television position in front of you both. 

Eddie was, hands down, your closest friend. He was the person you came to for everything, even slow nights like this when you just wanted to be around each other. And it could, from an outside perspective, look too codependent. But, if either of you were ever feeling sad or upset you always seeked out the other without hesitation.

Eddie felt ridiculous, practically on his hands and knees after school in an effort to have you come over tonight—it’s mostly for show, hoping to make you laugh, but you can see how desperately he needed it. 

Still, the notifications on your phone aren’t immune to Eddie’s senses, his eyes dragging toward the phone set atop the coffee table that his feet are resting on, a quick succession of messages in one go. 

He clears his throat softly, angling himself away slightly as you reach for the phone, looking back at him apologetically. 

You weren’t always this inconsiderate, but Eddie never seemed to mind, not initially anyways. 

It was pointless too, some bland conversation with a boy who was much too desperate to get in your pants—but you couldn’t lie to yourself, you were being just as promiscuous as you wanted to be, so the flirting ensues. 

It’s not bad either, but it starts to blend together, things you’ve seen time and time again. And Eddie looks like he’s on the brink of passing out, head slumped in his hand and his lip pouting out slightly. 

“You don’t have to stay,” He says quietly, his free hand tucked under his shirt, pressing against the warmth of his skin, “I get it.”

Did he, though? Or was he just trying to be nice?

Either way, you couldn’t bring yourself to leave him high and dry on a night that he really needed you. And usually you both would be cuddled up against each other, but that wasn’t how tonight was going. You couldn’t tell if he was annoyed or exhausted, maybe a mix of both. 

“I’m not leaving,” You respond, half offended that he would even suggest it, “I just—I’m gonna deal with this so they’ll stop bothering me.”

Whatever that would entail.

“Okay,” He relents, his voice soft, “I’ll pause it if you want.”

The movie, pausing the movie—you glance at the screen and back at Eddie, shaking your head.

“I’ll be quick.” You assure him before fleeing down the hall to the tiny bathroom, unlocking your phone.

And while you don’t necessarily condone sending nude photos of yourself to people you barely knew, you weren’t exactly a stickler for following the rules. Plus, you were good about keeping any identifying marks out of the pictures, namely your face. 

You can hear Eddie move around in the other room, his walls dangerously thin. The old couch creaks as he moves and then the front door is squeaking open and slamming shut a few seconds later.

Smoke break. 

Well, that or he was giving you some privacy. 

You get a text from Eddie a moment later confirming your suspicions.

‘Out front for a smoke if you want to join.’

Followed by another.

‘When you’re done.’

You sigh heavily, switching over to your camera and dealing with the pressing task at hand, lifting your shirt up just above your breasts, a thin and see-through material that gave the subtlest view of your nipples, the curve of your breasts pushed together deliciously—you had to give yourself some credit, they were absolutely picture-worthy. 

You snap the picture quickly, fleeting before you overthink it.

But, it doesn’t feel like enough.

You reach your hands around to cup your tits, pulling them out of the material with ease so they sit perfectly on your chest, still slightly supported by the fabric bunched up underneath them.

Was it deserved? Maybe not. But, you couldn’t be bothered to second guess yourself, snapping the second picture and readjusting your clothes, phone scattering into the bowl of the sink as you set it down.

You did want to join Eddie, so you sent the pictures without checking, not realizing how detrimental of a mistake you made. The phone is shoved into your back pocket and you meet Eddie outside a few moments later, his back turned toward you as he puffed on the cigarette, nearly down to a stub. 

You reach around him effortlessly, plucking it from his fingers and pressing it to your own mouth.

“You could’ve asked for your own,” He laughs lowly, a deep chuckle that makes you feel warm all over, “I was trying to finish that.”

“Too late,” You smile, pressing the cigarette to your lips and puffing it dead, “I never finish mine and you know it.”

Eddie smiles knowingly, twisting you gently to urge you inside.

“Quick, before we freeze.” He tells you, opening the door to lead you back inside, the butt of the cigarette falling from your fingers as Eddie snuffs it out with his boot. 

“I really am sorry,” You apologize timidly, “I know this is supposed to be our time and—“

“Hey, it’s fine,” Eddie shrugs, poking at the frown line in your cheek as you look over at him, “you’re here, at least.”

Eddie grabs a few snacks and drinks to finish out the movie, letting you settle into the space between his legs on the floor, pillow pressed against his lap for you to lean against. He’s playing with your hair absently, your eyes drawn to the screen as he checks his phone, the insistent buzzing of an unchecked notification driving him crazy. 

He could only guess it was Dustin bugging him about something only he and Eddie would understand, but it’s not.

It’s not that at all.

It’s your contact name: two pictures attached.

Eddie’s fingers freeze against your hair, but it’s lost on you.

He’s not an idiot, he knows. God, he fucking knows.

And because he loves nothing more than to torture himself, he braves the fear that riddles his body and unlocks his phone, faced with the last thing he could ever expect.

“Oh fuck.” He says quietly, mostly to himself.

“Hmm?” You inquire, not bothering to look back at him.

Eddie stammers, phone almost slipping from his hand.

It’s not the first pair of tits he’s been blessed to see in his lifetime, but it’s not like he’s being bombarded with them on a regular basis. He’s had sex once, seen a girl naked once, in person, not counting the porn he watches on a regular basis—and he’s still new to all of this. But, this feels invasive.

Yet, he couldn’t pull his eyes away.

The silence is digging at you and you turn slowly, hand pressed like a fire-hot brand against his knee that makes him jump, his eyes pulling up toward you.

They’re wide—shocked, lost, and the words that he wants to say are dead on his tongue. 

“Eddie, is everything okay?” You ask, concerning flooding you at his state of emotion, “Is it Wayne?”

He could keep it to himself, never tell a soul and live with the fact that he’s a total creep, bound to jerk off to the pictures of you at some point—he’s never outwardly admitted his attraction toward you, but he doesn’t hide it either.

Eddie hasn’t tried to ruin the one good thing he has going on in his life because his dick is telling him so, it’s the one thing he prides himself over.

But, that’s quickly flying out the window.

“Hello,” You call out again, “earth to Eddie? You’re starting to freak me out now.”

Eddie rubs at his brow in exhaustion, forehead creasing as he flips his phone around, “I uh, don’t think these were meant for me.”

You look at him, confused, tearing the phone from his hands and suddenly your mouth is falling open, not a word to be spoken. 

“I mean, I’m flattered but—I think it’s safe to assume I wasn’t supposed to see those,” Eddie rambles, “not that like, I wouldn’t want to, but I figured it’s probably better to tell you rather than you finding out later and thinking that I didn’t tell you for some other reason, not that there is…a reason.”

You smile widely at his dramatic rambling. He only ever did it when he was nervous, which was inherently clear now.

This was going…great, clearly. 

“That’s–” You laugh uncomfortably, softly, “I’m so sorry, Eddie.”

“No, no—don’t be,” Eddie interjects, “I’m not like I’m bothered or anything—“

“God, I’m so stupid,” You reprimand yourself, tossing the phone back into his lap, his hand tensed tightly into the fabric of the pillow when you move, a small thing you wouldn’t have noticed without the cause of current situation, but you ignore it for now, “you text me—and I didn’t even think to switch it back to the other conversation and I just sent it, like an idiot.”

“I’ll delete it,” Eddie says, reaching for the phone, “I’m going to delete it right now.”

“You already saw it, I don’t think it really matters.”

And it’s the first inkling Eddie gets that maybe you don’t mind—it was a genuine mistake, but you’re more panicking for the sake of Eddie, rather than yourself. Seeing your friend naked wasn’t exactly an ideal situation, but it wasn’t one Eddie had a problem with, not with him harboring such a deep crush on you. 

“It feels wrong,” Eddie says, trying to laugh off how awkward things felt, “I mean, not that they’re bad photos—I think I should delete them.”

He shifts slightly, sitting up further as you turn to face him fully, knelt on the carpet at his feet—and that stupid, fucking pillow.

It’s covering the painful hard-on pressing against his jeans. Eddie hasn’t dealt with a situation like this since…well, ever.

Your eyes connect their briefly, the skin around his rings going white from his forcefully he’s gripping it, almost like he’s trying to rut into it secretly, relieving that silent ache. 

“Should? Because you want to, right?” You check in with him, his fingers hovering over the delete button, staring intensely back at you. 

“Yeah, of course.” He nods jerkily, “Friends don’t–don’t keep pictures like that, do they?”

He’s never been in such an unorthodox situation, learning the rules as he went. He never cuddled with friends or played with their hair, spent nights sleeping next to them in bed because the other was too tired to drive home–it’s a line you both have been walking on for a while, all that unspoken about tension collapsing in on itself.

“Only if they want to,” You tell, “You can–if you want to.”

“They weren’t meant for me.”

There’s a long beat of silence that has his heart racing in his chest, his face heating up.

“They can be.”

“But, what about–”

You shrug lightly, the light from the television shadowing around your face in a way that has Eddie mesmerized, caught up in the way you’re staring straight through him, your hand creeping toward his own, pulling gently at the fingers gripping the pillow.

“They were boring,” You tell him honestly, “and this is...a lot less.”

Eddie resists the pull for a moment, embarrassed by how easily he’s given himself over. It’s far from where he expected the night to go, and his internal monologue is screaming for him to say:

No. This won’t work. This can’t work.

“Eddie.” You say his name once, the tone in your voice telling him everything he needs to know.

Regardless of if this was a one time thing, you wanted it. And if all of this happened purely by chance, he’s thankful for the best goddamn divine intervention he’s ever experienced.

Eddie’s still speechless when you climb into his lap, thighs spread out over his own and his hands reaching around to squeeze at the wedge behind your knee, settling you more comfortably. 

This was normal, no different than any other time that you’ve sat in his lap, but your hands are hovering, pillow tossed to the side. You can see how painfully hard his dick is from where it’s pressed up against the thick fabric of his jeans. 

“I’m really trying not to make shit weird,” Eddie admits with a clipped laugh, “my body just kinda reacted.”

You shrug again, nonchalant. “I’ll take it as a compliment.”

Eddie glances down briefly, his hands rising up your thighs slightly, soft skin against rough denim. They squeeze at your hips, his gaze tilting back up toward you.

“What are we doing?”

It’s a question with a million and one answers, but you settle for something simple. Something Eddie can grasp and figure out himself.

“Whatever feels good,” You smile softly, pushing his long tresses behind his ears, the skin stained a deep red, “or we can go back to watching the movie and act like this didn’t happen.”

Eddie grips you a little tighter, like he might lose you.

“I can…help you out,” You suggest, glancing down with a mischievous grin, hands dragging toward the waistband of his jeans and tugging at the belt, “no stipulations or anything, unless you think it’ll go away on its own.”

“Probably–probably not.” Eddie admits. His morning wood wasn’t nearly as bad as this, but it always ended in him tensed up against the shower wall, fucking messily into the tight grip of his hand until he can finally find some relief. 

You eye him wordlessly–he can see it in the way you light up.

A silent ‘Then?’ hanging between you both.

Eddie makes the first movie, surprisingly. His hands reach for his belt, unbuckling it with anxious fingers and sweaty hands, fumbling with the zipper until he can finally get it far enough down that he can wiggle his jeans down a bit. You lift yourself slightly to allow the action before settling back down, hands smoothed out over your own thighs. The aggressive tent in his boxers is lingering still–

“I’ve never done this before,” Eddie admits, “Like, without all the other stuff.”

And kissing didn’t feel right, too intimate for the situation despite how badly you wanted to touch him.

“You jerk off, right?” You ask, knowing the question is a little redundant. Of course he does.

He nods.

“So, I’ll just help,” You tell him, “or just watch, whatever you’re comfortable with.”

“Uh, no—I want,” Eddie nods slowly, looking up at you timidly, “I want you to help.”

There was no sense in him being shy, not with you. But, you get it—it’s uncharted territory, nothing either of you prepared for, but neither of you were turning down the opportunity. So, facing it head on seemed like the best.

“Okay,” You reply easily, dipping your hand between both of you to stretch under the material of his boxers, gripping him firmly. He’s hard, but everything about him is soft. You don’t dare a look, not yet, his eyes connecting with you briefly at the touch, his lips parting. It’s a soundless gasp, eyes pleasing silently, “is that fine?”

Eddie nods again, nose scrunching as you squeezed lightly, fingers rubbing over the fat head of his cock, the heaviness of him resting wonderfully in your hands. 

“Might—might be easier if you take it out.” Eddie suggests, lifting his hips slightly to do just that, freeing himself to allow more room for you to move, bare skin pressed against denim.

You peek a glance down in the poorly lit room, flushed pink head disappearing under your grip as you fist him tightly, his hips rocking every now and then to meet your movements, his hands squeezing tighter and tighter against your hips, subconsciously rocking them in time with his. There’s no friction for you, but you don’t need it—this was about Eddie.

For now, at least.

“God, that’s so good,” He whines softly, head dipping back against the cushion as his eyes squeeze shut, “yeah—like that.”

Your bottom lip pulls between your teeth, rubbing testingly over the tip for a prolonged amount of time, precum drenching your hand until it’s sticky with slick, making a horrendously hot sound as your hand sinks down to the base and squeezes.

Eddie breathes uneven, a mix of a sigh and groan wrapped into one, voice cracking in the middle. 

“Fuck, what are we doing?” He rambled, a sudden moment of revelation. “This is so—fuck—“

“Feels good?” You tease, “I’m having fun, Eddie—and I think it’s safe to say you are too.”

If the sounds he was making were any indication. 

“You had other plans—didn’t you?” Eddie asks curiously, pausing in between words when things get too intense, his fingers digging into your back. It’s not painful, but you can definitely feel it. 

“Maybe,” You shrug, “but you’re my best friend, Eddie—I’d do anything for you.”

“Yeah?” He asks, his voice sounding higher than usual.

“Mhm,” You nod, leaning over him slightly until your arm is pressed flush against both of your chests, the ridge of his cock rubbing against the front of your jeans at this angle—he’s so close to where he desperately craved to be, but still far enough away that it hurts. “Anything.”

“Fuck, I’m almost there.” He warns, feeling ashamed at how easy it was to work himself up. “Don’t wanna make a mess.”

You’re quick, using your free hand to lift your shirt over your head, hand leaving him for a brief second—he almost pouts, the feeling flagging slightly as his orgasm approached, but then he’s got your breasts in full view, pressed tightly against the intricate lace of your bra.

He really can’t take it, his hand cupping over your own as you return your grip around his cock, just as furious and tight as before, guiding you down as he likes, bringing himself closer and closer.

“Can’t believe you,” He says aloud, not for any reason in particular, “—doing this on purpose, aren’t you?”

You laugh softly, hand sifting into his long curls and gripping at the root gently, he moans softly, eyes boring into your own.

“Depends,” You start menacingly, “how much are you enjoying it?”

He snorts softly, “Too much.”

His eyes linger toward your breasts, follow the slow rise and fall of your chest, the thin gold chain that dips between your cleavage and holds a similar guitar pick to the one he wore, a gift for you after a year of friendship.

It wasn’t because he wanted to see you dawning a piece of himself, it wasn’t that at all. But, you wore it proudly. 

You smirk knowingly, guiding him toward your chest encouragingly until his mouth latches into your skin, his hands sprawling out against your back.

It was the push he needed, confidence surging through him as he mouthed at the swell of your breasts, fingers dipping around the cups to stretch the material down, revealing the softened bud of your nipples as they harden in real time, the breeze hitting them immediately.

Eddie comes with his face buried against your chest, panting into your skin hotly as he stifles the lengthy groan that escapes him, rocking into your joined hands with the aftershocks as his come hits your stomach.

He lets out a weak noise, somewhere between surprise and disbelief, sprinkled with an astute feeling of real exhaustion.

“Fuck me,” He groans, reaching blindly for the shirt you hand him, wiping away the mess he’s made without question. He can only assume you don’t mind, given that you so freely handed it to him, “that was…intense.”

You chuckle, climbing off of his lap slowly, adjusting your breasts back into the confines of your bra.

“Still want to finish the movie?” You say jokingly, but he almost seemed pleased that you asked. 

“If you don’t mind—“ Eddie laughs slightly, adjusting himself back into his pants, leaving his jeans undone, “I didn’t get on my hands and knees earlier for nothing, you know.”

“Fine, but—“ You point at his wrinkled shirt, yanking at the fabric gently, “I’m gonna need something to wear, since, well—“

“Yeah, yeah,” Eddie waves you off slightly, a grin splitting over his features, “or?”

It’s a challenge, a brave question to propose in a situation like this. 

“I’m not sure you can handle me, Munson.” 

“Try me.”

It’s no surprise, Eddie knows you better than anyone. If there was anyone to take you on, it was him. 

Please consider a reblog if you enjoyed this fic! It’s makes a huge difference. ♡

[genshin-scenarios]

android au - detective droids

Summary: In a modern-futuristic world, it is possible to create androids that are so advanced, they’re more or less human. There will be 5 android au posts total, each focusing on a different group! 

The Sumeru collection was created specially for detective and investigation workplaces.

Characters: Tighnari, Alhaitham, Kaveh, Cyno

Tighnari specializes in evidence collection on sites and processes them in the lab. You have no idea why they made him so pretty (don’t the designers know that it might distract you from work?), but paired with his underlying snark and the little smiles he only sends to you, you’re quite sure you have a favorite droid to visit during your breaks.

As a field agent, you’re no stranger to minor injuries and a few scrapes here and there, but Tighnari always chides you about being more careful. He often ends up treating you and patching up the androids when nurses weren’t around, tail swishing absentmindedly as he focuses on applying salves to your skin. 

Tighnari is rather careful when it comes to you - or perhaps more gentle might be the better word, considering how he just pushes the others around, giving them a ‘told you so’ while rolling his eyes. You don’t realize this, but his gaze always drifts to you at these times, ears picking up on the little giggle that escapes your lips.

His ears and tail increase his sensitivity to his surroundings, meaning Tighnari notices details about a crime scene that regular people wouldn’t. The same goes for changes in his co-workers, be it burnt-out employees or ones that seem to have their loyalties switched… he never admits it, but Tighnari sends this information to Cyno or Alhaitham if he suspects it might bring harm to the agency, in terms of catching double-agents.

Once, the final straw was when he saw said double-agent trying to approach you. You were on a rather sensitive case and had tight lips, which led to them trying to attach a bugging device on your attire. Thankfully, Tighnari was quick to remove it, telling you that there was dust on your coat.

…Level headed as he is, Tighnari is quite protective of those he considers his close friends. He’s quite popular around the workplace anyways, so he does use this to keep tabs on people. No one said his work ended with just forensics, right?

A data collection droid, Alhaitham is often known as a ‘witness’ of sorts that records everything he deems useful to a case. Due to his personality however, sometimes he just stands there and judges people, silently making comprehensive notes about their speech, body language, and any suspicions he may have.

These transcripts then go to you. Alhaitham highlights what is most relevant and enjoys seeing what you think before sharing his own theories. Some people say that the both of you sound like masterminds cooking up a concerning plan in the office, catching snippets of your conversation that sound like: 

‘you did say he bought copious amounts of gasoline…’ ‘so it’s legal to blow up the factory?’ ‘i’ll check through my database, but i’m sure we can find a loophole’

People that aren’t close to Alhaitham might think he’s stoic and a stickler for the rules, but you’re more than aware of the chaotic-neutral methods he has a penchant for. In a sense, data collection really suited Alhaitham, who enjoyed seeing people squirm at the idea that he could psychoanalyze their deepest darkest thoughts. 

As much of a dramatic he is, Alhaitham doesn’t tolerate uncooperative people or those that lash out against your team. Once, you were interviewing people for a case when an aggressive bystander attempted to attack you, only for Alhaitham to surprise everyone by knocking him out with one blow.

He says he controlled his strength, so there wouldn’t be any lasting injuries… but suffice to say the rest of your interviewees were very obedient after that.

Alhaitham also enjoys annoying (pissing off) certain people as a way to get ‘extra data’. You let it slide only because you’re aware he always has a reason for his actions. 

At one point you asked Alhaitham why he manages to get along well with you, despite usually keeping to himself at the office. He merely shrugs, saying that it’s only natural to have good relations with someone he’s often partnered with.

That, and… if he was with you, he wouldn’t be accused of slacking off.

Kaveh often works as an informant or undercover agent. His job relies more on his ability to pass off as a human, and his empathetic nature helps with that whenever he’s on the field. You’re his partner on these missions, either watching from the hidden cameras in his system or working by his side. 

Kaveh does get a little annoyed however if people attempt to flirt with you during these, even if you were letting them because it was a way to gain information. He reasons that because he’s an android, he should do those tasks instead - Kaveh doesn’t want to burden you with that kind of work if possible. You’re the same; you may not be a saint, but it’s easy to want to treat Kaveh well.

Kaveh also has a legendary reputation as an escape artist. He claims it was just a stroke of luck, but he undoubtedly is good at navigating through even the most fortified buildings and picking the best spots to place explosives to knock it down.

He often gets embarrassed when people praise his skill, but only you’re aware of the work that Kaveh puts in, memorizing blueprints and guessing where hidden floors may be. Seeing him get the recognition he deserves always fills you with pride.

Once, you were on a mission alone and trapped within the workings of an underground fortress. To say that Kaveh appearing out of nowhere felt like an angel came to save you wouldn’t be too far off. With worry plastered on his face as he checked if you were alright, he quickly led you through the building with the distractions he had in place. Kaveh explains that once he heard backup was needed at your location, he’d quickly volunteered himself for the task.

‘Ah… not that I’m expecting your thanks for anything like that! …Um, I’m about to deactivate the lights, so could you hold onto my hand? I’ll lead us to the exit.’

Cyno is an android designed for combat. Oftentimes he’s dispatched as a hitman or to guard important places and people. This time around, he’s been assigned to protect you.

Seeing as you’re being targeted by an unknown mastermind, the agency appointed Cyno to stay with you 24/7. He tries his best to simply be a ‘shadow’ at first so that you wouldn’t have to adjust your lifestyle for him, but after a while you told Cyno that you didn’t mind.

‘After all, I can just treat it as having a bodyguard or friend!’

Cyno can come off as intimidating to people, so he’s surprised by how friendly you are to him; asking him if he’d like to join in the activities you were doing, or what he likes to do in his free time.

Nowadays it’s hard to imagine going around without seeing him nearby, and once he even pretended to be your boyfriend when your acquaintances asked why you were always together.

‘Are you sure you’re alright with that? Your friends will think I really am dating you.’ ‘Well… I can’t really complain about having such a reliable “boyfriend”, can I?’ 

It becomes easier once you settle on this as a cover story, though Cyno doesn’t really do anything extra with the role besides holding the door more often and giving you fleeting smiles, unsure if he really looked the part with how serious his expression is otherwise. People think it’s cute. You find it more endearing when you pass by a collectives shop, and notice he’s glancing at the TCG cards on display.

One day, perhaps you’d order a custom card based on Cyno? From your chats with his friends, you think he might find it amusing at the very least.

Because of how he is with you, you forget that Cyno is normally feared amongst the enemies of their agency. He rarely misses his mark, nor does his targets escape his judgment without a price.

[caitchercatlady]

Not Having a Good Time

-Heartslabyul Version

Note: Hey, everyone. So I've had these stories on the back burner for quite a bit, and I do have intentions to work on more than just this one imagines series. I hope you guys like this one nonetheless first <3

Riddle Rosehearts

As much of a stickler Riddle is for keeping the peace, unless it's necessary not to, he can tell when someone is not in the mood for nonsense in the exhausted sense of the word. He will ask to speak with you in private, away from any snickering and gossip.

"Queen's Rule #568: Grievances must be shared over a cup of lavender tea and the griever's favorite treat."

You and Riddle will enjoy this occasion in the quiet side of the garden, where Riddle allows you to rant about your issues as he listens with open ears. Riddle always had Trey and Chen'ya who would listen to his problems, so it was only right as a Housewarden to act upon his position with you, even if you aren't his house student.

He knows it's not the permanent solution, but, while also warning not to tell anyone that this happened, he gives you a hug of comfort, lifting your spirits just a little.

Trey Clover

You have your head to the floor, so you don't notice Trey approaching when you accidentally bump into him and step on the tip of his shoe. Already distressed enough as it is, you apologize profusely. Trey smirks as he replies:

"It is just a shoe, not my mother's flower garden. Why don't you walk with me?"

As Vice Housewarden, the solver of the majority of the dorm's problems and the mediator of all squabbles, it is Trey's natural instinct to approach you the moment he sees the frown on your face. He allows you to express your grievances as you walk through the campus garden.

Trey believes the best way to release stress is a nice baking session. He even lets you do the kneading and taste testing steps.

Cater Diamond

Even though you just want to be alone in Ramshackle Dorm, prior to your return to your dorm, Cater couldn't help but notice how stressful you've felt all week if your account is proof of anything. He couldn't help but send you a DM on MagiCam.

Your latest pic is looking pretty gloomy. If you wanna talk, spam me as much as you like. -CayCay <3

You gladly take the offer since you felt comfortable ranting not face-to-face. You can tell that Cater is reading them by reacting to each message you send with an alternate sad or a heart emoji.

As a peacemaking offering, Cater tells you that if you are ever interested in doing a "Cay Cay pampering session," he'd be at your dorm in half a finger snap to help clear the stress from your mind.

Ace Trappola

When you're not feeling your best, the last you need is someone or something to make it worse. Ace didn't get on your best side as he pulled off the "dunk your face into your lunch" prank today. He didn't react so nicely when you told him off, but after realizing what had gone on prior to that prank, he finds you during flying class to try to make things up for what he did.

"Yuu...what happened at lunch today, I'm sorry. I should've just said, "Hi," and asked how you were doing. I didn't know you were already mad. Please forgive me. If you can't, let me make it up to you somehow."

If Ace wasn't sincere, you supposed he would've waited until after class was over to apologize. Now that he was listening, you let out everything that had been going on before Ace pulled off the prank. You also express the "I message," which Ace is more than willing to accept.

With Vargas busy with...whatever Vargas is doing, Ace offers you to go on a flying ride with him. A little entertainment screaming would do you some good to make you forget about your problems...even just a little.

Deuce Spade

Deuce finds it odd that you've been less chatty as of late. You barely even spoke when the professors pointed to you for answers to their questions. He catches you after class and asks what's happening. He's all ears to hearing you out. That's when you finally respond, and he feels the pain with every word that comes out of you.

"Ah geez, Yuu. I'm really sorry. I think I've been feeling it, too, and when I'm feeling that way, I need a Blastcycle ride. Wanna go on one right now?"

You don't find that to be a bad idea, so you guys head out and take a campus ride to let the issues out of your hair. The island is lovely enough for its wind to brush it right out.

[lemon-russ]

the girls are fighting

Part 11/ ???

< previous || next >

Cato Sicarius x F!Reader

CW: Mentions of sex, sexism

Summary: Titus does not enjoy his beach episode

word count: 1,894

Titus paces the lobby of the visitor’s quarters. The Ambassador had run off emperor knows where with Captain Sicarius hours ago, and he’s getting antsy. Why did she want to be alone with him? They had just been talking about how awful he could be. They were just starting to talk like normal people. And why was the Captain here out of nowhere? out of armor and uniform of all things. It makes no sense.

Demetrian isn’t usually a stickler for the rules, But he does not get along with his captain, and he gets along very well with the Lady Ambassador. So it rubbed him the wrong way when Sicarius showed up and ran off with his charge. He's supposed to be guarding the ambassador but he doesn't even know where she is. If Guilliman finds out he let her leave without guards- sure, Captain Sicarius was technically there, but he wasn't even supposed to he here at all. And commands from a primarch outweigh commands from his Captain.

He goes back outside, frowning at the setting double suns of this world. He does not like his gut intuition about the situation. Sicarius had been outright hostile to Demetrian earlier, and hovering over the Ambassador possessively. He has a though but shakes it away. No, that was impossible. The captain wouldn't be… involved with the Ambassador. That's absurd. That would be the scandal of the decade, of the century. Captain of the second company, having a fling with his primarch's personal diplomat?

But Demetrian isn’t a fool. He saw how they looked at each other, and the Ambassador had called Sicarius Cato, then corrected herself. She knows it's inappropriate to be using Sicarius’ first name enough to correct herself, but is comfortable enough doing so it slips out on accident. His captain has a temper, but the venom he spit at Titus today was like nothing else. They are usually at least professional with each other. He shakes his head again, pacing the grounds of the resort. If she isn't back soon he'll go find them. She's supposed to be his charge, and he feels like Guilliman especially wouldn't like him lapsing in his duties if what he worries is happening is happening.

========================================

Cato was in nirvana. Him and his little ambassador- his- had spent the afternoon making love by a hot spring, kissing, speaking sweet nothings, and just enjoying each other’s company. She currently lay on his chest, watching the setting double sunset with him. He runs a hand up and down her back, head propped up on his other arm. He never knew life could be this good. That the galaxy held something besides unending battles- which to be fair, he loves- and horrors. That there was something, someone, so radiant and warm in the Imperium.

The Ambassador snuggles up under his chin, and he lets out a contented sigh. “Guilliman was right. This is basically honeymoon planet.” He chuckles, petting her hair.

She giggles back, humming as she runs her hands over his body. “It really is romantic, huh?” She murmurs. She is quiet a moment as they take in the sunset.

“So… when we go home…” she starts softly. He frowns. He'd been avoiding this conversation.

“What about it…?” He says gruffly, holding her closer.

She leans up on her elbows to pout down at him. “We can't like… be together, right? That feels… illegal. Or at least incredibly improper.” She says nervously.

He frowns and his expression tightens. “It is… certainly frowned upon. Not illegal per se…” he admits. He was most afraid of his father finding out. He was incredibly protective of the ambassador, shown not even in full by him sending three fully armored Ultramarines to guard her on her forced vacation. He shuddered. If he found out what he'd snuck out to do to her…

“Cato?” She asks, tone laced with worry. He snaps back to reality, giving her a small frown.

“We'll need to… be discreet, I think.” He says. “I could get in a lot of trouble with, well, basically everyone.” He says with a grimace.

It didn't feel fair. He had done so much for humanity. He was one of the greatest legends of the entirety of the Imperium, let alone of the Ultramarines. He was second only to his genefather, and maybe, maybe Calgar. Yet for all he does for them, they would snap away the one thing he's decided he wants. This tiny mortal woman. He moves to roll on his side, curling around her.

She hums and cuddles up to him, sighing as he rubs her bare back. All he wants is one small baseline human woman. That feels like a reasonable request. Maybe he could frame it like that to his father. He wouldn't take her from her duties. He just wanted to be with her on them. Or be the bed she comes home to. Just… to have her.

She looks up at him, setting suns casting a rainbow of warm colors over them, the nearby hot spring pool sparkling reflections on to the leaves of the trees around them.

“I want to ask Guilliman to give us his blessing.” She says softly. His hand stops on her back, and he looks down at her wide eyed.

“You… want to ask him?” That would… certainly help, honestly. If he does it, it would seem like he's preying on her, since Guilliman was so protective. But if his own little diplomat asked instead…

He pulls her close, a tiny glimmer of hope sparkling in his hearts. “That sounds like a great idea, little ambassador.” He says, smiling down at her. He smirks. “I'm surprised, your brain actually cooked up and produced a tangible good idea. Maybe you're evolving.” He teases, making her pout and give his chest a light smack.

“Really? You're still going to be like that?” She giggles at him. “What does it say about you, sleeping with a creature so un-evolved?” She chuckles.

He frowns a bit. “Hm. You're right. When you put it that way, no one must ever learn of this.” He playfully pushes her away, into the spring water, making her squeak and laugh as she splashes in.

“Cato!” She laughs as she shakes the water out of her hair. “I was almost dry! Now I have to go back to the visitor’s hall soaked!” She says, a little exasperated as she drags herself out of the water.

He smiles up at her from the ground. “And who forgot to bring towels along, so excited to get me alone?” He chuckles.

She blushes and crosses her arms. “I wasn't thinking…” she mumbles.

He grins. “When are you ever?”, and laughed as she kicked water at him.

They got redress into soaked clothes and bathing suit, and start trudging their way back to the central hall. They giggle and sneak kisses and walk side to side as the walk back, but as they draw close enough to hear people, they are forced to break apart and act somewhat more unfamiliar.

Titus is pacing the front of the hall, and he snaps his head up when he hears them, looking agitate. “And where in holy Terra have you two been? It’s been hours, Captain! I may be below you, but I was given orders from Guilliman himself-” he starts tearing into them.

Cato rolls his eyes and walks passed him. “We went swimming.” he says casually.

Titus scowls. “I can see that- but why did you have to go swimming alone for four hours?” He snaps.

The ambassador frowns at Titus. “I’m sorry Commander, I just lost track of the time, but Cat- Captain Sicarius was there, so I was perfectly safe” She smiled up at him.

==========================================

Titus scowls down at the little ambassador. She was seriously trying to pull this twice? He was embarrassed she got him once batting her eyes. And there she goes, almost calling Sicarius Cato again.

“My Lady, I was worried sick. What would I tell the primarch if something had happened to you?” He says frustratedly. “I cannot let this happen again. You must take at least one guard with you if you’re going to be going off with the captain again.” he insists. They will second as a chaperon, he thinks.

He eyes their wet, disheveled clothes and hair. The way they are standing just far enough a part that they aren’t obvious, but orbiting each other at that distance like they don’t dare go a step farther. He grimaces again.

The Ambassador pouts. “I don’t understand why that is necessary, Commander…” she says nervously.

He huffs, raising a brow. “Ah, I just got an idea.” he says, smirking. “I will simply send a message over to Lord Guilliman, and double check that it is alright that only Captain Sicarius guards you-”

He is interrupted by Cato. “That is unnecessary, Commander.” he says quickly. “We will stay in the vicinity of you and the other guards, less you lose anymore of your hairline to fretting needlessly.” He says in a mocking tone.

Titus’ mouth twitches down, and he runs an hand through his hair. His hairline is… fine. But he must have hit a nerve, and he smiles. Clearly Cato was lying about being allowed to come here. And as long as he didn’t want to be caught in that lie, he’d comply with whatever Titus demanded. He glances over to the Ambassador, and for a second feels a little bad. She looks upset at the Captain, pouting with her little brow scrunched. His hearts stutter a beat. Maybe it is cruel of him to break up her little love fest…

He shakes the thought. It is for her own good. A little mortal woman does not have the faculties to actually consent to whatever she was doing with Sicarius. It was a power imbalance, not to mention an intelligence imbalance, and she was naive and innocent, and wouldn’t know Cato is taking advantage of her. No, he had a duty to his father to protect the Ambassador, and a duty as a reasonable person to protect her from herself and from the Captain.

Titus smiles at Sicarius. “I’m glad we have an agreement. Now, shall we all head to the dining hall and get dinner?” He asked politely. He glances at the ambassador. “Ah, maybe after you put on some… more clothes that is, My Lady…” he adds, frowning.

She frowns and blushes a bit, crossing her arms over her mostly exposed chest. “Ah, right…” she mumbles, heading back towards her quarters.

He smiles and watches her go, eyes lingering a bit on her frame. Politely, of course. Sicarius gets his attention with a noise though.

“Enjoying the view, Commander?” He growls a bit. Titus raises his brow.

“I have no idea what you mean, Captain.” He retorts, returning the glare.

Cato grits his teeth, jaw twitching. “I would prefer you keep your eye’s on the Ambassadors face, Titus.” he says in a low voice.

Titus quirks a brow and frowns. “And I’d prefer you keep your cock in your pants, Sicarius.” he says, walking passed him to the dining hall.

Cato’s face pales and his mouth drops open a bit, before he scowls and clenches his fists at his side, watching Titus go.

[auncyen]

continuing this even though it's not supposed to continue, what is self-control

-

You were supposed to be on bed rest. Healing Craft had made recent advances like Body Craft (unsurprising, with how the two are linked), but while your arm could be quickly set and mended, healers are leery of using large amounts of Craft near vital organs unless it's life or death, so after the Head Housemaiden herself read your energy to make sure there wasn't any life-threatening, the best treatment for a concussion and bruised ribs was… rest. She told Mira herself to make sure you get plenty of it, and Mira always was a stickler for the rules, especially when it came to healing and getting better. You expected Mira to herd you back to bed when she caught you sneaking out of the infirmary. (You thought it was night and everyone would be asleep; apparently it was just evening and the Housemaiden in charge of the infirmary just took a break for their dinner. Being laid up in bed had messed with your sense of time.) But Mira looked up at you with a sad smile and gestured for your arm, resting it across her shoulders. "If you feel dizzy, lean on me. You want to see Siffrin, right?"

"Yeah," you sighed. "Thanks, Mira."

You made your way up to the third floor with Mira, taking a break once on the stairs when you got too dizzy and she had to brace you from cracking your skull on the steps. She started to chew her nails, anxious, so you gently took one of her hands and squeezed it.

"Ah! Thank you…"

You both sat in silence for a moment. Neither of you seemed to know what to say, and you were still trying to get the spinning feeling in your head to settle down. You were glad most of the Housemaidens were at dinner, so no one was trying to step over you.

"How's Bonbon doing?" you asked as your mind strayed to them. They'd been at your side when you were first helped to the infirmary, but after you first went to sleep, they left, and you hadn't seen them since. You hoped they realized you'd get better. Sure, any future head injuries could be riskier for you, but you weren't going to be trying to get injured.

"…They're scared," Mira said, squeezing your hand herself this time. "They had a nightmare about going back to Bambouche and finding their sister still frozen. She shouldn't be, everyone else is fine now! But with what happened to Siffrin…"

Your heart sank. Siffrin froze after the King was defeated, something that shouldn't have happened when the King was responsible for the Curse. It was upsetting and confusing for everyone, but especially for a preteen who last saw their one family member slowly freezing, yelling for them to run. "And M'dame hasn't figured out what caused it?"

Mirabelle shook her head. "She's frustrated. I am too. I figured out how to cure others of the Curse, at least if they hadn't been frozen too long! But every time I've tried with Siffrin, it's the same result--as soon as I feel even a little of Siffrin's energy come back, it's gone again. It's like the Curse on Siffrin is perpetuating itself somehow, or…" She shook her head.

Or it had been too long. You wanted to cry at the unfairness of it all, that Sif had fought to save a country that wasn't even their own only to be consumed by the Curse, and then you realized you were crying and rubbed one eye to ward off the tears before Mira could notice. She did, though, and leaned over to hug you.

"I'm going to keep trying!" Mira promised, her own eyes watering. "I'm definitely not giving up!"

"I know you aren't," you said. "And if you can still feel Sif in there, that's got to be a good sign, right?"

She nodded. "Right."

Good, good. You needed to hold on to that. "I just wish there was something I could do to help too."

Mira frowned at you. "You've already done so much, Isabeau. I'll help you see Siffrin, but then please rest, okay?"

"Alright. I don't want to worry you."

With most of the dizziness passed, Mira helped you back to your feet, and you both visited Siffrin.

He was still in the large hall where you'd fought the King. You knew from the Houses in Jouvente that this hall was used for House-wide gatherings, like part of the festivals for Housemaidens to show how they'd changed. You…weren't sure they'd be doing festivities in here, at least not until someone figured out how to free Siffrin from the Curse. Because there had to be a way.

Siffrin was right where you'd left him: on his knees, his body slumped in such exhaustion it looked like defeat, even though he'd just helped win the fight against the King. You felt the guilt stab between your bruised ribs. Something had been wrong that day, and you'd known there was something wrong, and you'd let him put you off until 'after the King'.

Logically, you couldn't have known they'd be frozen even if you won, and it's not like they froze because you didn't talk. The Curse was due to the King. Siffrin's feelings had nothing to do with the King, and that awful man had disappeared. But.

You couldn't forget how distraught Siffrin had been right before he'd frozen.

Mira tried once again to unfreeze Siffrin. She knelt in front of him, placed her hands on his frozen ones, and then clapped firmly, one-two-three. She placed her hands back on his and shook her head. Two minutes passed as she regathered her energy, and then she clapped again, three times, focusing her Craft with each clap.

On the third round of three claps, she sighed, then jolted so quickly that you rocked yourself where you sat, your head swimming at the sudden movement. "Siffrin?!" This time, instead of reaching for their hands, she cupped their cheeks, peering at them.

You couldn't tell what she'd seen at first, but when you realized, your heart pounded. His mouth was still smiling, but now the lips were slightly parted. The sigh hadn't come from Mira.

"Sif!"

"See, they're here, I just need to, I'm not doing something right--" Mira tried Lovely Moving Cure again, and again, and again, always clapping in rounds of three. You weren't paying attention to her, too focused on Siffrin. You didn't think about how the clapping had become frantic, about how she wasn't taking the time for cooldown, you were just focused on Sif's face, hoping you'd see next time they moved, hoping they'd stay moving--

But then Mira sagged, slumping against his frozen frame from Craft exhaustion. "Mira!"

"I'm fine," she said. "I'm fine, I'm…" Her shoulders shook. "I'm sorry, Siffrin, I'm sorry…"

You peeled her off of Siffrin so she could cry on someone a little softer, even if your ribs protested the extra weight against them.

"At least… at least they're smiling," Mira said when she was a little calmer. "People keep talking about how getting frozen didn't make them dream, just made one thought stretch out forever. Siffrin was so upset, but, but…" Her voice wavered. "They must have realized just in time that we did win, and you'd be okay. I'm going to figure out what I'm doing wrong and cure them. But at least until then, they're happy."

"…Yeah." You were glad she was looking down, still trying to regather herself after the tears, because you're not sure you could have looked her in the eye. Was Sif really happy, just because he was smiling? He'd been…blaming himself for you getting hurt, and saying he was going to get Mira or Odile hurt next… had he thought of something genuinely happy? Or had he just thought, 'at least I won't get them hurt'? Because that wasn't right at all. It was self-blaming, it was wrong, he hadn't done anything wrong, he'd locked up in the fight but it was a fight no one could ever have been fully ready for or should've had to fight to begin with, and you had to bite the inside of your cheek before you thought about it too much and cried yourself.

Mira was strong and determined, and she had M'dame Odile and other Housemaidens trying to help her figure out how Siffrin had frozen to fix it. She'd cure Siffrin, and then you'd hug Sif show him at a close but still respectful distance that you were fine and make sure they knew what you knew, that the King was the only one to blame for you getting hurt. Until then, you hoped you were wrong about what Sif's one thought was.

[samairuart]

AH I JUST SAW THAT YOU HAVE OCS! Can we see a little more about them???

Since Mermay is around the corner, I could share a bit more about my mermaid OCs!

Juhi - a spare royal who now finds herself the crown princess of the Lotus Kingdom. After the murder of her brother the crown prince, Juhi inherits the responsibility of becoming the next ruler, against the wishes of most in the realm. She also inherits her brother’s personal guard, tho they are not very keen on serving her as they no longer see each other as a team, and are still very hurt by the death of their prince.

Arnav - the leader of the personal guard. He’s definitely on the stoic side, but is highly professional. He, like the rest of the guard, doesn’t particularly care about the princess, but that won’t stop him from fulfilling his sworn duties.

Mehul - second in command, Mehul aspires to be like Arnav, though he can get a little hot-headed and is a big stickler for the rules. Mehul is the oldest of 6 siblings, and is definitely a family oriented fellow. While he may seem put together, he is quite naive.

Sujal - consider him the glue! He’s an energy battery and is always eager to make friends. He’s also a bit of a yapper. Sujal closely resembles the late prince, so he often played the role of a body double. He’s the first to welcome Juhi and try to be on friendly terms with her.

Hiten - the most agile swimmer in the realm. His body uses up so much energy though, that he quickly falls asleep wherever and whenever. One can often find him sleeping in the weirdest spots throughout the palace. While this may be a trait you wouldn’t want in a guardsman, his sharp senses and quick response often can snap him out of his stupor.

Sagar - the only shark of the group, he fought tooth and nail (literally) to gain the position he has today. Often met with discrimination, Sagar faces the world with a sense of stubbornness. He’s also a hot-headed fellow, which doesn’t help with the stereotypes he hears. Like Mehul, he aspires to be like Arnav.

Iravat - the final member of the guard, though he’s been exiled due to his betrayal. He’s the stone that shattered the mirror.

[decepti-thots]

something that is very interesting rereading early MTMTE is that the comic is actually very much written with the assumption a ton of its readership are specifically pre-existing IDW comics readers, which can sometimes be difficult to remember because of the fact that a lot of people wound up coming onboard to MTMTE from outside the fandom in the end and now it has a reputation as an entry point as a result. this manifests in a couple ways throughout the first couple major arcs. one obvious one is that the Overlord stuff functionally makes it a sequel of sorts to Last Stand of the Wreckers, at a time no direct sequel was planned. but my favourite is that there's a kind of narrative trick the comic pulls with the leadup to the payoff Remain in Light gives us for Magnus.

the Magnus we get in early MTMTE is not the Magnus we get in earlier IDW comics. he's very exaggerated; where phase one Magnus is a by-the-books stickler for not so much as bending rules and someone we see struggling to maintain that sense of moral uprightness in the face of the war and the people around him being far less dedicated to staying on the straight and narrow like him, it's completely turned up to eleven in early MTMTE. phase one Magnus would not be doing endless doorframe audits, or throwing people in the literal brig for crooked badges. but this doesn't necessarily register as a change in character so much as a change in genre. MTMTE is also a dramedy with heavy emphasis on the comedy side of that in a way no other IDW comic is, and the shift in Magnus' characterisation therefore feels like 'well in THIS genre, that's what that archetype is like', rather than a diagetic shift in character. even if you come to MTMTE straight off those prior comics, it is very much a 'roll with the genre shift' thing rather than a 'hm. Magnus is acting… weird' thing. you let it go.

there are a couple indications this might not be the case early on. Rodimus especially seems to be under the impression that Magnus is acting uptight even for him, with his insistence on waving it off like 'he needs to relax, Swerve can you get him to chill on Hedonia because my guy is REAL stressed' and the like. (this makes sense- Rodimus is the person on the ship who has actually been directly interacting with Magnus regularly pre-MTMTE.) but it's not super obvious and not heavily emphasised.

which makes the eventual post-Overlord and RiL reveal, which is that Magnus has in fact been acting weird because he's having a breakdown that has largely gone unremarked upon by his shipmates, really really good. Magnus has not been doing doorframe audits because he's the comically uptight second in command acting as straight man for genre purposes; Magnus has been sending Rodimus a million memos a day and losing his shit over nothing because as someone whose entire identity as 'Magnus' is rooted in a wartime role he escaped into, he's been having an existential crisis now the war is over and he has no purpose and doesn't know what to do because he never expected to have to play that part in peacetime. the entire time the genre shift was somewhat obfuscating the fact this characterisation was a thing that is in-universe relevant, which also then reflects back on the fact Rodimus is like. hm. probably should have noticed that, now I feel like an asshole for not realising. (the scene where he and Rung discuss those unread memos, post-Overlord.)

it's a small thing, but it's a really effective misdirect for the payoff Magnus gets in RiL that reads a hell of a lot more clearly on reread and rewards that chance to revisit the early issues with that knowledge. of course that wasn't just a gag, of course he's actually slowly losing his shit slightly, he cannot go five seconds without making it clear he is Stressed As Hell. but until you get to that actual reveal, there's just enough room for the comic to let a reader assume it's, you know, we're in a comedy now, we need a hilarious straight man, and Magnus is it. it's great! all the stuff MTMTE pulls to simultaneously obfuscate the Magnus/Minimus reveal while also making it feel completely reasonable on reread is great. really good use of reader bias there.