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#i hope what breaks you is a thing nobody sees
glittersstuff · 3 days
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instagram models - Luke Hughes
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Warnings; argument, angst, happy end, Luke still needs to learn what girls want
[ requested by anon ]
Rie's note; hope anybody will like it.
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You bite your nails, again.
Usually you're not stalking and looking after what your boyfriend does and you trust Luke in every step in your relationship, but damn it hurts. To see every day he follows more new blonde Instagram girls, legs longer than your whole body and looking perfect. Something in your soul breaks more and more, he doesn't stop with that. You don't know how to find the perfect timing for this conversation, you know how much Luke hates drama and arguments but in your mind is one big question;
are you nothing serious for him?
"Hey babe! I'm back from morning skate!", you hear his raspy voice, steps incoming into the kitchen and softly kissing your cheek. He looks relaxed and no guilty in his face.
Yeah I know you followed a few minutes ago five new blondies.
"Luke? We need to talk!", your voice gets strict and your body feels unwell in this situation but honestly if he would be happy with you, he wouldn't search for new girls.
"Can I take a shower first?", he takes his practice bag, ready to go in the bathroom.
"No", you shake your head. He raises an eyebrow, his hazel eyes looking afraid. "Ok", he settles down his bag from his shoulder again, the tall man standing in the door frame, leaning his side on it. His hands are in his hoodie, like he always does when he's nervous. You're really serious right now. It scares him.
"Can we sit down? Or is Jack coming, too?", you ask. "No, he's driving to his girlfriend", he calms the negative situation down with an insecure smile. He walks with big steps on a kitchen chair, laying his phone on the table.
With the touchscreen down.
"Why do you love me?", you speak out with frustration in the voice.
"Uhm..what do you mean exactly?", he tries to give the right answer.
If he knows one thing; boys mess up with everything when a woman is annoyed or angry. He knows it from his brother's girlfriend or his mom.
"What do you love about me?", you become uncertain. His ears start to turn red, he's touching his neck and nods. Like he understands the conflict. Actually he doesn't understand anything.
"Baby, I love everything about you. Your brown hair, your eyes, your smile, you're short like a minion that's cute, everything. Why?", Luke hopes he didn't fuck up.
You cross your arms, you don't look happy with this answer. He huffs. That's not that simple as he imagined.
"Turn your display around!", you get in offense. "Why?",
"Luke Warren Hughes!", you're about to scream.
"Okay okay..", he turns the phone around and DM's are popping on his lookscreen. You caught him, his cheeks are burning now, hands on his head leaning on this table.
"Who is this?", you start first.
"Uhm.. Stacy", he smiles in the apology way.
"Who is Stacy?", you smile knowing. You're not from yesterday.
"She's nobody from Instagram...", he feels like in jail. He can text with whoever he wants.
"Do you love me?", you ask again. Luke rolls his eyes, "yes, of course!".
"Why are you following new instagram models every day and continue following them ? I thought you had a girlfriend!", you take his phone and show him with gestures what you mean. An angry tear rolls down your face, frustrated he's such an ass right now. You can't believe it.
"C'mon! Don't be mad. If we didn't have social media, you wouldn't make a drama out of it!", he argues back.
"Oh drama?!", you laugh sarcastic, feeling so small right now.
"You know what, Luke?! I was ready to leave my home country for you, I got a job here just to live with you! For me it's serious. I can't take it anymore! Go to your pretty blonde instagram models when you're feeling lonely!", you yell out of your lungs and smash his phone on the ground.
Your relationship never was this toxic but nobody can blame you for that. He stutters and tries to hold your arm back, but you're too fast with leaving his apartment. You turn around your body, "I want a man in my life and not a boy who doesn't know what he wants!".
This sentence haunts him over and over. Luke lays in his bed, mad about himself.
You deserve a boyfriend who treats you right, you don't deserve it. He didn't think much about it with these instagram girls, but with each day you're not in his life anymore, he misses you.
He doesn't miss these plastic girls, he misses his girl with your disney-pyjama, mess hair and watching sports with you until you fall asleep on his belly. And even with your snoring you are adorable, beautiful and the most amazing woman he ever met.
Luke takes his phone, scrolling through his recent follow-list and unfollows every girl who he doesn't know in real life. He sent you a thousand screenshots he unfollowed them, in the hope you'll forgive him. But you ignore him, following all his teammates now and he wouldn't say it loud; but he's jealous as hell. His blood pumps faster and faster to know you follow single guys like John Marino and ignore him. He feels like shit and he can't say sorry because you're on another continent.
"You fucked up", says his oldest brother, after telling him the whole story. "What can I do?", Luke whines.
"Fly to her and make things right!", Quinn replies without many emotions.
"What if she doesn't forgive me?", "trust me, she'll. She loves you. But you're really stupid to do things like this Lukey!". Luke doesn't make noises anymore. "Hello?!", Quinn asks.
"Yeah, sorry. I booked a flight ticket".
"Do you know her address?", Quinn is sceptical. His youngest brother is a mess, when it comes to girls.
"Uhm, no. But I have her mom's number", Luke says confident. "Pray that her mom doesn't know what you did", Quinn laughs.
"Quinny i really love her", he sobs. "Yeah, you're prince charming. You'll get her back. Mom loves her too much and would kick your ass off, if you ruined it".
Next day he's standing on your door, completely in jetlag, tired, hungry and missing your love.
Your mom let him in, of course with baked cookies and a death stare.
"Mom-", you come in the house, she texted you she needs help but there's Luke. Luke sitting in the kitchen, cookie crumbs over his whole face, you have to smile. He looks innocent.
"What are you doing here?!", you get mad again, reminding of what he did.
"Willst du mit mir schlafen?" (do you want to sleep with me?), your mom is shocked and gives him a slap on the back of the head.
"You wanted to apologize Luke!", she gets in mother mode.
"Nico taught me this! I learned this question two days straight!", Luke defends himself hands in the air. "What did I say ?", he's worried now.
"That means if my daughter wants to have sex you!", she shakes her head, taking the cookies away from him.
"I wanted to ask if you want to come back with me, i promise!", he swears with the blushed face of embarrassment.
You smirk. Thank god you Nico did this, the swiss man knows what he did. He wanted to give a lesson, not to mess up with you.
"Just if you don't do that again", "I unfollowed every girl I don't know and I only love you! I swear!", he steps closer and kisses more than four times butterfly kisses on your lips, his cold hands on your cheeks. His eyes are full of regrets.
"Okay", you reply. Your mom claps in her hands, "that's more drama than my heart can handle!", she gets dramatic, you roll your eyes. Typical mom.
"Can you go to my next game? I want to take..you know..like the books you read.. to take a kissing photo with you in my jersey...and me..in my hockey clothes to show these women I'm taken", he says with a quiet and whining voice. You laugh and kiss him back. Your boyfriend. That sounds good.
"Did you booked flight tickets?! Your game is tomorrow!", "I booked two", he winks.
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hectorth · 3 days
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Baecation | p. cubarsí paredes
— Synopsis : Pau took his girlfriend with him for vacation, of course he can’t resist showing her off to the world!
— SMAU
— pure fluff
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liked by fcbarcelona, marcguiu9, hctorforrt_ and 367,569 more
tagged : yourusername
paucubarsi: escaped barna with the loml 😽
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user1 : Bro be living the dream since his mvp award
yourusername : real but as he should
user2 : Pau where do we find a girl like urs
paucubarsi : simply can’t find another woman like that, try going for your best mates sister for the thrill
user2 : 🫡🫡
fcbarcelona : Looks like Pau is enjoying some well-deserved downtime with his girlfriend! They look so happy together 💑
liked by paucubarsi
marcguiu9 : damn you went without us ??
paucubarsi : lo siento hermano 💔💔
paufan : hard to be sad when I see Pau and his gf posting on ig
ynfan : real I love them more than they love each other
user3 : free therapy I swear
yourusername : my man
paucubarsi : proud to be 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨
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likey by paucubarsi, lamineyamal and 2,074 others
tagged : paucubarsi
yourusername : impossible to separate him
view all comments
user9 : Okay, Pau and his girl make us straight-up all wish we were on vacay with them 🌴
liked by paucubarsi
lamineyamal : cuteness overload 🤭😻💞💞
paucubarsi : please just shut up 😭
lamineyamal : freak
paustan : Yasss! Even ballers need some downtime, and they’re slaying it!
liked by yourusername
yourbestfriend : adorbs!!!
yourusername : told ya he looks better irl than on those pictures back then
paucubarsi : 👎👎
iloveyn : yn and her man = ultimate couple crush
user3 : I want both it them so fucking bad
user 4 : ikr?? She gorgeous asf, he a cutie, what do we want else
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liked by hctorforrt_, ilovepau, pablogavi and 405,007 others
tagged : yourusername
paucubarsi : love it here, and even more with my woman 🤍
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yourusername : pauipookie stop, you’re making me actually gonna tear up from this 🙁
paucubarsi : I love you so much
yourusername : we’re in the same room, stop texting me and give me a kiss
liked my paucubarsi
paucubarsi : 🫡
pauandyn : the way he calls er 'his woman' 😭😭 he’s so boyfriend and husband
user7 : if they break up I ain’t gonna believe in love any longer istg
hctorforrt_ : sexy
paucubarsi : me or my girl ?
hctorforrt : both.
marcguiu1 : my son is growing up so fast, bagged a girl and already out the country with her 😪
liked by paucubarsi
user10 : this guy mad ugly she could do so much better 💀
yourusername : you better sleep with one eye open lil bro 😭🙏
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posted to story
paucubarsi
hope you liked those flowers, handpicked just for you 🩷
yourusername
Pau 🙁🙁🙁 stop making me melt in the grocery store
paucubarsi
Bare minimum for a pretty lady I call my girlfriend, if you ask me
When will you be back ??
yourusername
I’ll be back in 10, are you okay, baby ?
paucubarsi
mhmm, just missing you, hermosa :( I know we see each other all day but still
yourusername
nvm I’ll be back in 5.
liked by paucubarsi
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liked by marcguiu9, lamasia and 398,762 others
tagged : yourusername
paucubarsi : night out with my love, happy two years anniversary ❤️
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user1 : time flies seeing them so happy together 🤧
user2 : I wanna be them so bad
user1 : us ?
user2: say less 🤭
yndefender : the way he looks at her 🥹
liked by paucubarsi
lamineyamal : simp
paucubarsi : don’t tell me you wouldn’t be one if you had her ??
yourusername : Here’s to many more adventures and memories together, love you endlessly💕
paucubarsi : The things you do to me 😵‍💫
user56 : the way he flirts with her in his comment section, he’s so in love
user9 : Bro impossibly down bad for his girl, ain’t nobody can blame him tho
user8 : Lamine so right about him being a simp
hctorforrt_ : you gotta let me be the best man to your wedding
liked by paucubarsi
fcbarcelona : our favorite couple❤️💙
hectorth 24
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mt-oe · 2 days
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𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬—modern mizu x reader
✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧
Hey dears!
This is my first fic in this blog. I'm quite nervous since it's been years since I wrote something creative and something outside of academics.
Yes, it's a popular song nowadays and I do only listen to selected songs by the artist. Might leave this be or might create a part 2. Let's see <3 Regardless, I hope you enjoy! Mwa mwa!
warning: not proofread, smut (mdni please!), she/her for mizu and implied afab reader, mention of virginity and bleeding
oh yeah, mizu is your ex-gf for this one.
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I don't really know if she cares or not All I know is she left a lot of stuff in my apartment She's never getting back
It had been a few weeks since you and Mizu broke up. She had initiated it during the middle of the semester. You were too stressed out with your project and being in a demanding program, and to her, you were just too much.
That was not to say she didn't try.
She did.
She absolutely fucking tried her best.
Going out of her way to buy you meals even if she was busy too, buying the materials you needed, letting you cry against her, and even doing some of the parts you struggled with despite not even having a clue on what to do. Nobody could tell her she never even tried.
But like anything else, if it gets used to it, it gets tired. The constant fighting and the amount of time she had gone to bed with a heavy heart was draining her.
A few days after your break up, you had come and collected your things from her apartment. Her heart sunk as your frown greeted her upon opening the door. With the cardboard boxes behind you and your friend in the driver's seat waiting for you, it was clear to her that you were there to take back what was yours that both of you once claimed were 'ours'.
The once happy and comfy abode becoming gloomy and cold as the trinkets you have displayed, the clothes you claimed are still clean, and the books you bought but never read were now gone.
It was just her and her thoughts. Her and her memories with you.
And as the smell on my pillow fades Her cigarettes might stay Like a Roman Coliseum A dry and worthless monument to our love
A sigh escaped her lips as she laid down on her bed, staring at the ceiling. The bed that was once so warm with plushies and fluffy blankets was now cold. She rolled over and looked at what was once your side of the bed. Your pillow still smelled faintly of you, a smell that brought her so much joy and comfort.
As she leaned closer to the pillow and closed her eyes, allowing herself to take in the fading scent from your pillow, the image of you laying down beside her appeared in her mind.
"Good morning.." You whispered groggily, giving her a sleepy yet angelic smile. Your cheek against the pillow as the rays of the morning sun shone against your hair, giving it a brighter hue than it usually had.
A small, almost unseen, smile appeared on Mizu's lips. Her long, slender fingers tucking in a strand of hair behind your ear. The gesture sent a shiver down your spine, making you grip the blanket closer to your bare chest, covering the love bites and hickeys she had given you. Her sharp blue eyes scanning every detail of your face. The way your cheeks was subtly smushed against the pillow, the flutter of your eyelashes as you blinked, the way your pupils dilated as you stared back at her.
You purse your lips as you stared back, a glint of mild amusement swirling with the admiration you had for your girlfriend. "What..?" you chortled, leaning closer to her.
"Nothing." She gently pulled you closer, hand giving the plush of your ass a light playful squeeze. "Just admiring..."
I still have your lighter I still have your book I still have everything you brought, but you never took
Mizu let out a groan, opening her eyes to the dull sight of her wall. "That's right.. She's gone.' she thought, rolling her eyes at herself for even feeling a bit of joy reminiscing about you beside her.
Pushing herself up, her hand reached onto her bedside table to grab a cigarette. Her back rested against the bedframe, she placed the cig between her lips. A Marlboro Red. Before you, she used to smoke blues, a recommendation by Taigen that never left her.
That was until she met you.
After meeting you, she went from smoking a pack or two a day to chewing on gum. It wasn't because you convinced her to quit or to appeal to you. It was because she wanted all of you. The taste of your lips, the taste of your tongue—hell, even the taste of your perfume when she pulled you in. She wanted it all.
Now, she was back to smoking. Your absence leaving a pit in her and an odd sense of loneliness in her mouth. This time, she was smoking reds, a want to forget your taste to cope with the ache you left.
Well, she was about to, but when her hands reached into her drawer for a lighter, she found none.
A small "what the fuck?" left her lips as she sat up straight, pulling the bedside drawer out fully to search for the small metal lighter she always kept. Eyebrows knitting together, she pulled out every item in her drawer but to no avail. Her lighter was not there.
What she found, however, was a book. Your book. It was already unwrapped and some corners folded in place of a bookmark. Her heart stopped as she inspected it, hand taking the cigarette from between her lips and onto her ashtray.
Mizu opened the book and began reading from the page where you left off. After scanning over the words printed on the novel, she set it down before letting out a huff of bittersweet amusement. Yup, this book was definitely hers now.
It was a mature novel. A damn fucking smutty novel.
"Mizu.." You called out, a sly yet playful look on your face. You walked over to her desk with the book in your hand, finger slipped in between the pages.
She looked up from the computations she was doing, head turning towards you. "What is it?"
Your hands opened the book, placing it on top of her notebook. Her eyes scanned the paragraphs you highlighted, eyes narrowing as she read out the graphic descriptions of the characters shoving their digits inside each other, each word describing the erotic sounds made and the intensity of the arousal the characters felt.
She gulped, swallowing the pooling saliva at the back of her mouth as she handed the novel back to you. "What...do you mean by this?" she asked carefully, cautious not to embarrass herself by revealing how the written scene made her feel some sort of heat between her legs.
Hands slipped down between her legs, eliciting a groan from the usually stoic woman as you slid your hands down. "Mizu." You bent down to her height and tossed the closed book on top of her desk, knocking the pens and pencils further back.
"I want to do that too."
You know where to find me And I know where to look
The scene replayed in her mind like a video tape. The way you looked at her with such want. The way she pushed you down roughly against the bed, hand taking off your dress with such desire she almost ripped it by the seams. The way your eyes looked up at her as if waiting for her to continue, demanding her to continue.
Your back arched against the mattress, hands gripping the sheets as you squeezed your eyes shut. "Fuck.." Mizu breathed out, watching the strap-on sink in to your glistening cunt. A choked back moan escaping your lips as you bit your cheeks in, tears springing from the corner of your eyes as the plastic stretched you further.
"Halfway in, dove." She groaned out, eyebrows furrowing as if she could feel you through the toy, hands gripping the soft flesh of your thighs harder.
Your eyes glanced at her before rolling back as she pushed the strap-on further inside, the pain of the stretch making you whimper. "W-Wait...please.." You moaned in a whiny, slightly pained manner, a hand moving from gripping the sheets to gripping Mizu's arm.
Her movements halted immediately upon feeling your nails against her arm, digging into it and creating crescent-shaped marks. Her eyes traveled from the pained-yet-pleasured expression on your face to your hole.
"Holy shit..." She whispered, pulling out a bit to see it clearly. Blood. You were fucking bleeding. "Dove...I'm so fucking sorry. I—"
She was cut off by you pulling her down for a kiss. Your hands wrapped around her as your nails dug on to her shoulder, eliciting a moan from her. Mizu had no idea you were a virgin. It was never a piece of information she had considered nor cared about until now. In fact, her concern was placed on the fact that you were bleeding.
Her eyes widened as she felt your legs wrapping around her back, pulling her closer and pushing the toy in more. "Take it..." You moaned out, eyes squeezing shut. "Fuck me...take me"
You were offering yourself to her, letting her take your first time.
Mizu's eyes narrowed, the feeling of worry disappearing as it was replaced by a carnal desire. Her hands gripped your trembling thighs harder as she lifted them up more and pushed you down further, almost knocking all the air out your lungs as she put you in a mating press position.
Her hips pushed the toy inside you, biting her lip at the wet squelching noise your pussy made. A moan escaped both your throats as the length of the toy was fully inside you. She paused for a moment before looking at you with narrowed eyes as if asking you for consent to continue.
The moment you nodded, she immediately pulled the toy almost all the way out before pushing it completely, eliciting a loud moan from you. Her hips continued to move, motion starting of slow but hard. The pain from your nails raking down her back stung, but she continued to move, not even bothering to move your hands.
How could she?
The sight of you taking her, all of her, like the good girl you are was scrumptious.
"Hurry...please.." You pleaded, thoughts blanking out as the pleasure overrode the pain you were previously in. Each thrust sending waves of pleasure throughout your body. The pleads coming from your mouth becoming incoherent as Mizu thrusts in faster and harder.
She gripped your chin, forcing you open your mouth before capturing you in another kiss. Her tongue exploring the caverns of your mouth, smiling slightly as she tasted you. Her eyes watching over your expression as she moved, taking in the way your eyes looked at her and the way it rolled back when she thrusted the dildo in roughly.
Your legs trembled as you continued to lock her in, pushing against her more. Incoherent moaning and whining mixed with low groans and grunts filled the room. The tightening feeling building up inside you as Mizu continued to move. Her thumb rubbed against your clit, making you moan almost desperately.
It didn't take long for your climax to come, a wave of pleasure bursting in you. She placed her hand against the small of your back as you arched against her. The way you closed your eyes shut, the way your eyebrows furrowed, the tears of pleasure that streamed down your face, the way your cheeks flushed. You were so fucking beautiful to her.
Mizu snapped back into reality, rubbing her face against the palm of her hands in frustration. The regret of breaking up settling in her. She stood up and placed the cigarette between her lips again. Her feet making no noise as walked over to the kitchen to grab the kitchen lighter she kept in cabinets, lighting the red and taking a puff out of it.
A groan escaped her lips as the self-hatred from making such a foolish decision sunk into her. After a moment of thought, she put on her dark biker jacket and a bunch of rings she put on as a habit before going out.
There was no way she'll let herself live in regret like this. Not after you let her take all of you.
Call it thieving, stealing, but she's taking back what's not hers.
Thievin', stealin', takin' what's not yours
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cosmerelists · 2 days
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Stormlight Characters, What Body Part Would You Be Per Arclo's Philosophy?
As requested by @sushi1056.
In Edgedancer, Lift meets a philosopher named Arclo who asks, "What body part do you feel that you are most like? ... Are you the hand, always doing busy work? Are you the mind, giving direction? Do you feel that you are more of a ... leg perhaps? Bearing up everyone else, and rarely noticed?"
Lift gave her own answer (nose), but if others were asked this question, how would they respond?
[I decided to limit this to Stormlight characters but if people enjoy this I'll be happy to try it with other books!]
Dalinar: These days, I suppose I am the mind, as the one who gives direction.
Dalinar: But I think I used to be the teeth: always consuming, always violent, not really understanding why.
Jasnah: I do not think that the mind can be simplified into that which gives direction.
Jasnah: I am the mind that synthesizes, thinks, and remembers.
Wit: Why, the tongue of course! It's my job to say what the king wants to say. And I've known to tell a story or two.
Renarin: Hmmm...the eyes perhaps? I notice.
Rlain: And I would say ears. Because I listen. And not only back in my spy days!
Teft: Knees, I guess.
Teft: Supposed to be helping you walk and stand and lift.
Teft: But knees give out so easily. And nobody wants to have bad knees.
Navani: I'd say hands. I do like to be doing things--making things. I always always "kept busy" by my former husband, but now as an artifabian I am doing it for myself.
Sadeas: The gut. I'm doing things that others see as dirty, but which are in fact absolutely necessary if we want to survive.
Shallan: Eyelids. I want to control what you see--and what you don't see.
Kaladin: I'd be the shoulders, I guess. I feel like a lot gets piled on me. And that I support a lot of people when they can't support themselves.
Shallan: You're muscular...
Kaladin: I am also muscular.
Rock: The arms, I hope! Helping to carry whatever I can, and welcoming everyone in!
Sebarial: The stomach of course.
Sebarial: I just want to be filled with good things, and I don't care if it makes you sick!
Adolin: Well...I guess the feet? In a time when literally everyone I know has amazing powers and I don't, I don't feel like I could be, like, a glamorous part of the body.
Adolin: But I do keep us moving. And I'm here for support.
Vasher: I'd also be the feet.
Vasher: Stinky.
Szeth: I am the nerves--I carry out the instructions from the brain, and I can cause a lot of pain.
Nale: I am the liver.
Nale: I filter out the poison. I do not think many appreciate the work I do, but they would certainly notice if I were to stop.
Lopen: I am the hips!
Lopen: Good at thrusting, and I never lie!
Taravangian: I'd have to say that I am the neck.
Taravangian: Turning the head to make sure it's facing the right direction.
Taravangian: And if I break, humanity will truly be doomed.
Moash: Me? I'm the throat.
Moash: Made to swallow more pain and suffering than I ever deserved.
Moash: So when I choke, I'm taking the whole body with me.
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gaybybirth · 2 days
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bed of fangs - eleven (nsfw)
Vampire!Eddie Munson x fem!Reader Fantasy/Magic AU
Synopsis: You might've survived the wolf attack, but...you're not so lucky for the bad of the night to end there. When you think it couldn't possibly get any worse, well....
Warnings: angst & nsfw content (violence), descriptions of violence/injuries, descriptions of anxiety/panic/pain, hurt/comfort, eddie's so soft and protective
Word Count: 6.1k
A/N: final chapter!! (for this section of the story!!) it's a little chaotic, so i still hope you enjoy it :) thanks for giving the whole thing a read!!
~*~*~*~*~ = ch break
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When Eddie first joined the troupe, your first introduction was him turning that annoying, cheeky, cocky smile your way. He flashed his fangs like a proud warning. This is who I am. He’d leveled a charismatic, flirty look your way from across the camp. And if you beg, maybe I’ll give you a bite.
You'd kept your hardened expression, then went right back to helping Falcon move some boxes for Pria. You didn't wait and look to see what his reaction had been.
"This is (Y/N)," Falcon had upon moving the last box into the tent. Rain was supposed to fall that night, and it was a quick attempt at protecting the contents. Fliers, tickets, and prizes. "I'm Falcon. Welcome."
“What a warm welcome,” Eddie had teased. His eyes flicked over to you without hesitation. They locked on yours, and you just felt a chill down your spine. It’d been two years, but everything still felt fresh when looking at him. From running from your parents to fleeing from Caldwater. You barely managed a smile.
“Hi,” was all you said.
Falcon gave away the details people only really knew about you then.
“Sorry.” He rubbed the back of his neck, giving you a pleading look. Be nice. “She’s slow to warm up.” 
And she doesn’t like vampires.
Something you’d been sure he’d tell Eddie later. You never went out of your way to check.
"Really?" Eddie tipped his head back and leveled a smile your way. His eyes had flickered and glowed that similar way Pria's did, and you just shook your head. "I bet I could be the exception."
You gave him another tight smile, fear creeping through your stomach, and accidentally brushed his shoulder as you passed. 
“Don’t bet on it.”
After that, it’d been a rhythm. Polite when together. Supportive when needed when townsfolks asked about his show. But avoidance. Avoidance until you found him bleeding and hurt in his damn tent. 
You’d finally stopped running.
A searing pain shot through you. The sky was dark when your eyes jerked open, and you gasped as the wet ground pressed against you. The moon was visible. The rain had stopped. The ground smelled bloody and dead.
Wolf.
You craned to see a naked man sprawled out in the underbrush. A gaping hole went through his chest and out of his back. His throat was awkwardly cut. That was as far as you’d made it before you were seeing white and you were once again on your back. 
What felt like scabs appeared beneath your hands as you dared to touch your side. 
You winced at the lightest touch.
Fuck.
Move. You had to move. You were still alive, so move. You’d been there long enough for the clouds to clear. You were officially out of time to pretend that nobody was going to catch up with you. That was a timer that’d run out ages ago, surely when you were unconscious. You’d even been pushing it when you got to the end of the bridge. 
You were out of time. 
You screamed as you pushed yourself to your feet. The mud moved beneath your boots, and you did a painful dance of slipping. Slipping and sobbing and slipping some more until you were beside a tree. Your shoulder screamed for a reprieve as you fell against it, huffing, sobbing, wheezing as your vision blurred. 
Move.
Fucking move, (Y/N). 
Mov–
A crackling of breaking wood made you freeze. A rush of wind, a chill in the air. A static charge that made your eyes widen and your head spin. You slumped against the tree, spinning as the sound shifted. Far behind, but not much.
It felt like hell as you put both hands in front and closed them in a fist. Once upon a time, you’d learned how to hold a sword back when you thought you could use that instead of your magic. It felt like your magic was tearing through your muscles as you pushed a continuous bolt of lightning from between your hands. 
You could pretend.
Whatever was there, you could feign strength. 
You could.
The lightning crackled as the forest lit up. 
The sound stopped, and you glanced up. It wasn't a relief to see black eyes blinked back at you. Their face was too familiar. Much like Damen's, it took a moment for the recognition to kick in. This time, it'd come through the fog of pain. A set of long black nails matched the midnight hair. Pale skin stole the white of the moonlight as sharp fangs glinted beneath it. 
Devona? Was that her name?
Newer to the group compared to the others. She’d had a fondness for Ruby.
She’d been there on the bridge before the water struck you.
“He couldn’t be bothered to come himself?” you croaked. 
Maybe he feared you’d do the same to him that you’d done to Ruby. The thought of Kieran being scared of you had never crossed your mind. But what was there to fear? He could slit your throat and be done with you before you could even blink.
You didn’t blink here.
“He sends his regards.” She frowned something wicked as she stepped forward. “He sends his disgust.” She took another step, and you squeezed the bolt harder. It was the wrong magic to use. But you couldn’t get the fire to come. “And he sends his promise that he will never let a delicious, pretty thing like you die.”
You still shoved the bolt forward, and it tore at her skin. It ripped through her face and part of her side, but she seemed unbothered by the pain. Blood dripped from the gashes as her hand closed around your throat, and she lifted. You would've screamed if you could've gotten air in your lungs. 
"He said I can't kill. Nor can I feed." You barely managed to get your hands around her wrist while her nails made new wounds in your neck. "But I can give you a preview of what he has in store for you. For Ruby. For making him starve. Crave what he’s been screaming to replicate.”
Your palms sparked with heat that wouldn’t stay. Her hand squeezed tighter. She was going to break your neck if she didn’t stop. 
“Devona.” 
A sobering wave hit you as a cruel smile crawled up on her sharp features. Her grip loosened just enough that you could steal a breath. Not much, but consciousness remained. You couldn’t see, but she could. Her hair fell out of her face as she tilted her head and turned that smile somewhere behind you. 
“Oh, Eddie.” She chuckled. She made laughter sound disjointed and ugly. “We’d heard you’d fallen into a particularly rough crowd.” She pouted and gave you a little wiggle. “Deja vu, right?”
You whined as she dug her nails in deeper. There was the sound of a step but not another. Not as Devona raised a finger and wagged it at Eddie. 
"Nuh-uh." She flicked her wrist, and the ground was under you. Not sweetly. Not gently. The air was knocked from your lungs as you did an involuntary roll over the underbrush, roots snagging where they could touch you. Pain blinded you as you tried to come back to consciousness. "She's ours to play with now. Sorry."
A foot on your chest kept you pinned underneath her. The mud caked your back and stung against parts you hadn’t even realized gotten hurt. But the position gave you a look at Eddie. As you put your hands on her ankle to fight the weight she was putting on your sternum, Eddie was a few feet behind you. If you died here, his expression would be what haunted you the most. 
Guilt and regret spread out like molten metal searing your insides. The panic, the fear, the betrayal. You could practically hear the words throwing themselves around in his head. You fucked up again. The concern drove deep. The care.
“Devona, don’t–”
"She killed Ruby," she snapped. "She left Kieran starving for blood he couldn't have. She's killed dozens of our kind." More weight, and you thought you felt something start to fracture. "Do you have no fucking allegiance to your kind? To the ones who turned you?"
Eddie’s expression twisted into confusion. Anger. His eyes finally flicked up from yours.
“Allegiance?” His chest heaved. “To fucking Kieran?”
You squeezed Devona’s leg harder. This was wrong. When this happened, Eddie wasn’t supposed to be here. You weren’t supposed to have gotten injured. You were supposed to have a damn grip on your magic. Why was it blocking up now?
Devona scoffed, and her eyes glinted with anger. The thought hit you unforgivingly. She had to keep you alive. You were worth Kieran's hunger and sanity. He needed you alive. He didn’t need Eddie alive.
And you couldn’t say a damn thing.
Not from the pressure on your chest, not from the soreness of your throat. But the second you showed any care for Eddie, Devona would strike. He was already leading himself down that path. She, at the very least, knew you two were connected. But how much.
Eddie had killed the wolf back in the forest. He’d staked the vampire near the river.
You’d never seen him go up against another vampire.
Your palms burned as Devona kept her attention on Eddie.
“He gave you eternal life,” she snapped. “Ruby–”
“Was a good lay that wasn’t worth even a fraction of what I got from it.” His hands twitched by his side. “You should know how much I’ve fucking lost because of him because he took it.”
“Hm?” Devona tipped her head to the side, an innocent expression coming mockingly onto her face. She batted her lashes and scratched her chin. “The mortals? They were all going to die anyway. And what better way to lose one than to have them in your arms for it.” Her lips curled into an awkward smile. “Well, except the girl. She screamed a lot. Kieran hates screamers.”
Something deep and primal clicked inside Eddie. Don’t, you wanted to scream. If he attacked, you had no idea if he could win. You had hope–but hope could only get you so far. He stole a quick glance at you, pure, unfiltered hatred pouring from his pores. He only held your pleading look for a second. 
You got a full, pained breath the instant Devona was knocked off of you.
And then they were gone.
No.
You sobbed as you rolled over. Moving was a feat you wouldn’t be able to hold onto for long. Adrenaline was the only thing that allowed you to even pretend you could move. Everything hurt. Tears blurred your vision. And you were fairly certain you were on the verge of simply keeling over and not waking up. 
But you couldn’t let Eddie die.
Not like this. Not for you.
You saw white again as you crawled. 
More noises echoed around you. Grunts, cries. Laughter. Words you couldn’t hear. Wood splintered, but you never got to see who was the cause. The noises continued, and you wrapped an arm around a tree as you fell. You barely managed to prop yourself up.
Please.
You dug your nails in hard. 
More noises.
Another plea left your lips as fear swallowed you. 
If it was another vampire, another creature–your death was sealed. You couldn’t survive anything else. You weren’t strong enough for this.
There was a splash to your left, and you turned. 
The river?
You shoved yourself forward, going from tree to tree, moving as fast as you could. The sounds of wildlife scattering made your hair stand up, but you continued. It wasn't far. And it was wide open enough to be able to see once you got to the edge of the forest. But you just had to get there.
You had to–
A root caught your foot, and your palms scraped against a tree.
“Fuck.” You pressed your forehead against the bark. 
If you had the luck to survive this endeavor, you were going to set your flames to low and toast Kieran alive for as long as you could draw it out. You’d torch whatever he threw at you. Whoever he tried to harm. Whatever he tried to do–fuck him. Fuck all of this. Fuck whoever decided to turn this on to you. To give you such a wonderful bloodline and ferocious magic.
You punched the tree, a miniature bolt of lightning taking away a chunk.
“Fuck you.”
You sobbed. 
“Fuck you all.”
The faintest, softest gust of wind hit your wet cheeks. They stung like you’d been crying for hours. And maybe you had. It was hard to tell where the hurt even came from anywhere. Everything just hurt. 
Everything–
A warm arm wrapped high around your waist.
No.
A gentle hand stopped your wrist as you swung it.
Please.
The bolt struck far to your left.
“It’s me,” Falcon said, eyes wide. His hand left your wrist and found your cheek. You could feel the blood it smeared. The tears and mud, too. “It’s me. I have you.” He looked to his right. “They’re by the river.”
“I can’t leave him,” you croaked.
Falcon gave you a bittersweet smile.
“If they kill him–”
“If you go and you can’t fight, it’ll only be worse for him.”
“I’m not going." You felt your palms burn. Embers fell to the forest floor. "I won't leave him, and I won't let him die because of me."
Falcon looked at you for a moment too long. He was wasting time. Time you certainly didn’t have. Time you could feel slipping through your fingers and falling into unconsciousness. Time you really, really needed to savor.
“Okay.”
He hauled you in what you forced yourself to calculate through the pain was the right direction. The werewolf’s corpse was left behind with your bag as Falcon moved with you. Every step was agony, but at least he was there to cushion. 
You could move faster that way. Not by much, but you enough.
You were trembling when the forest broke away, and the shore stretched out along the river. There was blood. From new wounds and ones that’d started to heal on them already. Water washed it away as Devona slammed Eddie beneath the surface. He’d drown, but he wouldn’t die. But if he lost consciousness for even a second, the grip he had on her hands would slip. She had more than enough strength to tear his head from his shoulders. 
They were too close to even pretend you could use fire on her. Whatever touched her would touch Eddie. You couldn’t risk it. You also couldn’t fight. Falcon stood no chance to try and separate them, either. Without that, the fight couldn’t be interrupted. You just had to stand back and watch as she killed him.
No.
Falcon squeezed you tighter. His solemn expression hurt as he battled what to do. What he could do.
No. No. No.
This was wrong.
This was what you were trying to avoid. 
No.
You tried to move, but Falcon held you back. He didn’t need much strength to do it. 
Something hard poked your side as you settled back against him, and you peered down at your belt. Your blade sat lopsided on the leather belt, the sheath caked in mud and leaves.
You blinked and heard Devona laugh. Eddie’s grip started to slip.
What else was there to lose?
You shoved yourself from Falcon with your remaining strength. You toppled, falling to the sand, and he made it two steps toward you before you got the knife free. You gave him a pointed look that stopped him in his tracks, and you screamed Devona’s name.
Your hands shook as you held the tip of the blade against your neck.
You’d lost more than enough blood that one slice would be the end.
Anywhere would’ve done it, but this got her attention. This hammered it home.
This did exactly as you needed it to. As you needed her to. 
It gave you the leverage to apply pressure to the knife. It let you see her let go of Eddie. It gave her the leverage to make her decision–the obvious one–and tear the knife from your grip without slicing you in the process. It brought the shore to your back as she pressed you into it and cursed your name. Screamed it. Told Eddie to get up and watch as she took you from him. 
Work.
You barely managed to reach up and grabbed fistfuls of her hair. 
"Fuck you," you spat, putting every last ounce of yourself into what lingered hot in your veins. Devona laughed, but you dug your nails into her. You felt the embers spark, and you clung to that. Clung to the feeling that gradually grew warmer until you knew it'd burn. "Ruby screamed a lot, too, you know." 
The skin on your palms blistered. Devona blinked as her hair caught fire.
“Will you?”
~*~*~*~*~
You weren’t dead. There was too much pain for you to be dead. 
Somewhere between hearing Devona's scream tear from her throat and feeling the blistering pain travel up your wrists, you'd blacked out. You'd thought it was death at first. That the last bit of magic you'd had left had wiped you out entirely. But then you were jostled. Then, there was pain again.
Oh, you sobbed. 
Shivered as something colder than ice hit all of you. Writhed for a moment before that made it worse, and then you clung to whoever held you. A hand wiped the dirt from your face. Then from the rest of you. Strong arms kept you floating in the water. Desperate, almost angry, scared voices spoke nonsense. You could hear what they were saying, but their meaning didn't stick.
You just heard your name a few times.
“No. No, no. Not again. I promised. I fucking promised her, Falcon.”
That. You heard that, too.
Then there was very little. Not nothing. There was shivering. There was more pain. Then, a lot of moving. Quick movement. Lots of wind. The cawing of a bird and then the chirping of more. Water. There was water. 
You felt really cold, still.
Chamomile.
You blinked hard, but you couldn't get your eyes to open. You smelled chamomile. Herbs. The mint of tonics. Franic voices overlapped it. Some yelling. Some snapping. A warm tingling feeling went through your veins, and a warm hand pressed something wet and boiling against your forehead. It smelled familiar.
“I won’t let you die,” a soft voice whispered. “I’m pretty sure Eddie won’t let the alternative happen anyway.” 
The gentle pads of fingers skated over your throat. 
“Okay, (Y/N)?” Luna. It was Luna. Luna wiped her thumb over a spot where you remembered Devona’s being. “You’ll be better soon. I promise.” 
She leaned down, and you barely managed to move your head. The cloth on your forehead was moved, and a tender kiss was placed beneath it. You leaned into it. 
You felt her smile.
“The pain will be gone soon. Not entirely, but most.” Her hand barely moved to your side, and you nearly bolted upright at the contact. “This will scar, but the rest won’t. Hey. Hey. Breathe. Rest. Rest–”
There was a moment of silence, and whatever you were on shifted. A cold hand found yours, fingers lacing through yours. 
“Is she awake?”
“Barely,” you croaked at the very same time Luna did.
Eddie’s grip tightened on your hand. Through sheer force of will, you managed to get your eyes open. The room was dim, but the lighting that was in there felt too bright. But you weren’t looking for it as you blinked away the blurry vision. You were looking for him.
Eddie seemed to nearly collapse with relief the second you looked at him. He had to brace himself with his other hand, shaking the table as he leaned closer. His eyes flicked across your face so fast, you thought you’d scarred your face up in the fights. But then they stopped on your mouth. 
He leaned closer. 
“Don’t you dare,” Luna said, putting a hand on Eddie’s chest. Eddie’s hair tickled your cheeks as he paused, a mean glare going toward Luna. She gave him one right back. “When she’s better, you two can make up however you want. But she’s still in pain.” 
Eddie only barely straightened, but he didn’t walk away. He didn’t let go of your hand. 
“Give me something to do then,” he muttered, irritation crawling through him. He didn’t take his eyes off of you, even as you felt like sleep was trying to call you toward it. “Idle hands and all that bullshit. I can’t sit here and do nothing.”
"Just stay," Luna murmured, and you watched the magic pour from her fingers over your waist. The burnt skin was ugly and scabbed. The sweetness in her voice nearly made you cry. "Her magic pulses stronger when you're near her."
Eddie squeezed your hand tighter.
“Okay.” He ran his thumb over yours. “Fine.”
There was more movement, and you caught a familiar set of faces just before you started to drift back off again. You would’ve been upset that so many had gathered to see you like this, but the relief and concern on their faces shoved it all away. Link had Jax’s hand in a vice grip as she wiped away some tears. Tamara had to hold Kysa back from trying to bring food that (Y/N) really needs to get her energy back into the tent. Pria nodded near the back, concern laced through her features. She hugged herself as tears dampened her eyes. You wanted to tell her she didn’t need to cry–you’d be fine. 
Falcon handed her a handkerchief before he came over.
He put a hand on Eddie’s shoulder that held him relax, but not fully.
“She’s a stubborn one, Eddie,” Falcon whispered. “She’ll be fine.”
“I know.” He lifted your hand just enough to meet his mouth as he bent down. He pressed a searing kiss to the back of your hand. “I’m just an impatient bastard.”
You felt his hand squeeze yours again before the pain in your side was alleviated.
It stayed as sleep took and drowned you. 
~*~*~*~*~
There were fields of white around you. Freezing cold billows of white. They swallowed you as you jumped into the high piles, your cousins laughing around you. You were just another one of them, enjoying the fun. The scenery. Dreading the long ride back home. They threw balls of snow at each other, at you, talking about how they wished you could stay longer. How they wished you were actually one of them so you could live in the castle.
The large halls. The massive windows. The scent of delicious baked goods falling down the corridors and shiny silver cups full of cocoa waiting for you when you dashed back inside. The rugs were nicer than anything you’d ever seen. The curtains. The paintings. The food. The town outside of the castle.
You felt your grandfather pat your shoulder as you rushed by him and went to sit in front of the fire. The snow had already long melted off of you, and the chill had long vanished. But everyone else sat in front of the fire, so you did, too. The heat licked your skin like the sun, and you basked in the growing heat.
Your grandfather whispered something to your parents behind you, but you closed your eyes and sat where you were. 
Warm.
It felt so, so warm.
You jolted awake, eyes up on the point of a ceiling above you. The scent of lavender was strong throughout the small space. Thick blankets fell atop you, warm and soft. A long, large white shirt was draped over your skin that stretched as you started to sit up.
Oh.
That was pain. Not horrendous, but it reminded you of the pain you’d felt. Every ounce of it. It jerked the room sideways and blurred your vision for a moment, and you reached out to hold onto something. You were met with pillows. Pillows and an arm. 
You looked up the second a hand went to your back. Wide brown eyes blinked back at you. Concerned eyes. Relieved eyes. 
Your hand fell from his arm as he reached up and cupped your cheek.
“You’re awake,” he said softly.
You felt your mouth curve into a smile. He didn’t stop you from reaching up and touching his face how he touched yours. But that wasn’t enough. Soreness had nothing on the elation throwing itself through you, and you bit back the wince as you moved. The blankets were tossed back as you threw your arms around his neck. A dull ache in your side was hardly registered as Eddie toppled back out of his chair, and you both were on the ground.
He was beneath you. Alive. In one piece. He was okay.
You planted your lips to his and he seemed to melt under your touch. He sighed and kissed you back harder. Held you tighter. Kept you latched to him as you refused to break the kiss. Refused to stop feeling him. You needed it; needed to feel him. Needed it like you needed to breathe. 
He was still alive.
Your cheeks were wet when you finally needed to actually breathe. He cupped the back of your head gently as your forehead found his cheek.
“I’m so sorry,” he huffed, voice taut and strained. “I wasn’t there. I–”
"I was the one who ran." You felt cold as you said it. If you hadn't run, would it have been better or worse? You didn't like either answer. "You didn't do anything wrong, Eddie. I ran. I'm sorry."
"Doesn't matter. I promised to protect you, and I fucked it up again." His voice got quiet. "I thought she was going to kill you. I couldn't…I…" His hand twitched on your head, and he turned, planting a kiss to your temple. "I thought I lost someone else. I thought I lost you."
You shook your head. 
A sniffle came and went. You hugged him closer. Your heart started to beat quickly inside your chest. “I thought I was going to lose you.”
A shuddering breath left you as you nuzzled him closer. He pressed another kiss to your temple. 
“I’m sorry.” Lord. The emotions felt raw. Too raw. They hurt. “I won’t leave you to starve again, I promise. Can’t go losing your source of food–”
“If you think that’s the only fucking reason I went out there, you’re fooling yourself worse than when Jax thought they were just friends with Link.” His voice was almost cold. Yet it sparked an uncontrollable heat through you. Your magic felt weak to grasp, but it was still there. Still tangible. “I won’t fucking lose you, (Y/N).”
His voice dropped to a whisper. A hand gradually skated up your back until he had it centered between your shoulder blades, and he squeezed. Carefully–but he squeezed. He held you like you might slip away at any moment. 
He spoke the words against your temple, preceded by a searing kiss.
“I haven’t felt like this since I was mortal.”
The heat grew unbearable, yet it only felt wonderful. You lifted your head to find his gaze, but when you lifted and blinked, there were drops of water on Eddie’s cheeks. A few. Your vision was blurry, too. And you were shaking. Sniffling. 
You pressed your mouth into a fine line as a sob tried to break through.
When the hell was the last time someone felt like that about you?
Had anyone?
And he…? He.
You took his face in both hands and came down. You’d apologize after for kissing him while you were sobbing, but you needed him to know how much that meant to you. How that coursed through your veins like the feeling of magic. How it made you float and burn and pine and need. It made you feel safe.
The words weren’t there yet to speak, but Eddie understood them in the kiss.
He understood every one of them.
The sound of the tent opening was the only reason you broke the kiss. You would’ve stayed like that with him for as long as you could. Touching in every way you could, memorizing the feel of his lips against yours, basking in his care and giving him your own. To just be with him and feel.
Falcon had a crooked grin as he glanced down at you two still on the ground. One of Eddie’s hands went back and tugged down on the back of the shirt you wore as a dress. It was the only thing you wore.
“Good to see you’re up and doing good,” Falcon said to you. “We thought Eddie was going to go insane soon if you didn’t.”
Sunlight framed him, and you nearly leaped at him to close the curtain. None of the rays reached Eddie, but it was only then that you saw the slight bags beneath his eyes and the exhaustion seeping into him. Still, he had a cheeky smile. He kept your shirt weighed down with one hand and ran the other over your calf. 
“I wasn’t that close,” Eddie said with amusement. 
Falcon rolled his eyes and reached into the messenger bag hanging from his shoulder. A change of clothes was folded and tied neatly with a red ribbon. He set them on the edge of what you realized was Eddie's bed. 
You looked back over Falcon’s shoulder, muttering a thank you as you did so. 
“How long was I asleep?” you muttered. 
“Just the evening, don’t worry.” He walked over and put a tonic on the table beside the bed. “And it’s only just morning. The sun has just risen. Luna did her best to heal you up without overdoing it on either of your parts. How’re you feeling?”
“Sore, but okay.” Your hand instinctively fell to your waist. Luna had said the claw marks would scar. You could feel the memory of the wound in every wave of soreness as your fingers passed over the area. You flicked your eyes back to his. “Thank you, Falcon.” 
He stopped as he walked behind you, eyes wide for a moment as he turned to peer down at you. Then he smiled again. Softer.
“I don’t think things would’ve worked out like this if you hadn’t been there. Thank you.” Your voice broke halfway through your words, and Falcon reached down and squeezed your shoulder. But it wasn’t enough. Eddie gave you a bit of momentum as you got to your feet. “Thank you.”
Falcon smiled against the side of your head as you threw your arms around him. He hugged you back without a moment of hesitation. His chest rumbled with a bit of laughter before it died down, and for a second, his embrace got even tighter. 
“I’m not fond of losing members of my family,” he murmured. “I will always do what I can to keep the two of you safe.” His hand cupped the back of your head for a second. “Eddie also profusely thanked me on your behalf already. So you needn’t stress about feeling some obligation to do so. I will always lend myself to help.”
He pulled back, and he gave you a sweet smile that nearly broke you to pieces.
“We all will, you know. You’re family.” He looked over your shoulder at Eddie. “You both are.”
He stepped back and adjusted how his bag sat over him. A roll of his shoulders came next, then a hand through his hair. He gave you a nervous smile that made you shift your weight around on your feet. Eddie put both hands on your waist either to steady you, or he thought your legs couldn't hold you.
Either way, you leaned back until you rested against his chest.
He held you a little tighter.
“What is it?” you asked Falcon.
“Well, speaking of family,” he said, clearing his throat in the process. “When you two have finished…recovering…” Your cheeks burned while Eddie grinned, a kiss going to your cheek as he did. “We’ve been discussing waves of settling the Kieran issue.”
Eddie held you closer as you tensed. All the jovial feelings had knocked out the truth for just a little while. You’d killed Devona. You were back at the circus. Kieran was still in Caldwater. You were still in trouble. 
“Falcon,” you started, panic in your voice. Were they…?
He held up a hand.
"We have more than a few ideas, and Pria's already settled on which she wishes to move forward on." He gave you a wide smile and a tilt of his head as you simply gawked. You tried to say his name again, but your mouth just opened, and nothing came out. "What?"
He started to turn toward the exit of Eddie’s tent, and he gave you a cool smile.
“Did you think we would let him harm one of us and not retaliate?” Falcon tucked another strand of hair behind his ear. “Pria flayed the man who simply attempted to take her tail, buried the poacher who aimed her bow at my head mid-flight, and broke the hands of them who threw silver at Eddie.”
You and Eddie both moved aside as he opened the flaps.
"You're not the only ones with secrets chasing you. You don't have to run from them anymore." He stepped out into the light, and some birds chirped in the sky above. "We're here to help. Let us."
The flaps closed silently. The birds continued to chirp as a gentle gust of wind shook the tarp of the tent. The heat of the sun swirled as you fell back against Eddie. His hands twitched on your hips before rising slightly. You flinched where they met the new scars through the shirt, but you didn’t pull away. 
You blinked at the door, wetness coming down both of your cheeks.
Eddie caught you as your knees buckled. 
“Hey,” he murmured against your temple. Both arms wrapped you in a tight hug, pinning you against his chest. “Hey, hey. Hey, sunshine.”
You closed your eyes, shaking as you tried to piece everything together. Everything since you fled your parents, fled the vampires, fled Kieran; everything since you ended up in Pria’s troupe; everything since Eddie joined. Since he weaseled his way into your chest so efficiently and quickly and without stopping.
You dropped your forehead against him and forced yourself to straighten. 
Nobody had died.
Nobody had died and everyone was safe.
For the moment.
You threw your arms around his shoulders and hugged him closer. He felt warm. It felt like a piece of you that’d been missing was slotting into place. Old (Y/N) would’ve hated that it was him. The thought only made you laugh. 
Imagine if you would’ve done this sooner.
You snorted.
But the joyous relief could only last as long as it took for Falcon’s words to really set in. Even with the sun up, even with the slow, fiery kisses Eddie trailed along your jaw, even with everyone safe–you still had to go up against Kieran. There was the possibility that his hunger for your blood meant he was weak. Weak enough that there was nothing to fear. But underestimating an enemy was always mistake number one. 
And someone as vindictive as Kieran wouldn’t go down so easily.
Your head fell back as you sighed, Eddie’s lips trailing along your jugular, both arms locked around you. A low burning quickly grew hotter in your stomach as you clung to him. 
Kieran was vindictive. And you’d just killed another one of his friends and had another on your side. One that’d distinctly turned against him.
You reeled up as the shirt started to rise over you under Eddie’s embrace, and you had to peel yourself away from wanting to fall back onto his bed. To take the few moments you had with him before he really needed to crawl out of the sunlight. But there was something more important at stake than your own desires. 
“Eddie,” you murmured, cupping his cheeks as he looked at you. 
Wide, hungry eyes softened the instant they found yours. He cocked a brow and tilted his head, studying your expression. 
“Hm?” 
You took a deep breath and asked him something that you should’ve asked him the second he’d told you. But you’d been riding a different fear then. Clinging to a different pleasure to distract. To drown in. 
You drew your thumb over his mouth, and he pressed a teasing kiss to it.
Heat flickered in his eyes and your exhale came out shaky. 
But you had to ask.
You swallowed hard and held his gaze.
“I need you to tell me everything you know about Kieran.”
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unproduciblesmackdown · 11 months
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also to go "wow this is just like in pentiment" about absolutely anything and/or "wow this is just like iphigenia crash land falls on the neon shell that was once her heart (a rave fable)" about absolutely anything further:
the Narratives within crash land falls where like, in the end iphigenia being Given the story of both "this is going to happen anyways" and "so why don't you see it as a noble sacrifice to accept." the situation happening to Create a story that she was killed, so her father must be tragic, and sympathetic. that iphigenia does take on that Narrative of taking on the Noble Willing Sacrifice, and it kills her, but she also would have been killed anyways, as everyone also knows. that we even get a bit of pentimentesque [other characters observe & assess things] like, the fresa girls as a chorus, and one at the end like yeah She Was No Saint, i saw everything, but being cut off by The News that's like yeah looks like iphigenia was killed, that seguing into her father saying yeah she was killed, god's will was done, She's A Saint now. seguing to the emcee who introduced the play, but that superceded by achilles, and that superceded with iphigenia's extasis monologue as the end of the play. that whether iphigenia's a saint or not, she dies. that [the whole play] tells us as much, like, this isn't a What If kind of retelling where she escapes her fate, this is a retelling examining itself like, she Will die because the story's preset, so what to do with this as the story that has to take her there, what to do with this as iphigenia who has to go there
that iphigenia takes on another narrative in addition to the one offered by like, violeta as guide and oracle telling her she has to die (As A Noble Sacrifice), that again (as per iphigenia in aulis being like uh hey daughter. let's go to aulis so you can uh marry achilles (it is to be sacrificed)) achilles is this bait, but it's only in the ending that there's any Story about being with achilles, and when iphigenia goes to the mercenary soldier who she knows will kill her, she's the one telling him what to tell her about where she's going and why, i want you to tell me achilles is waiting for me....and she still dies, because This Is The Story. as also applied to the reality, iphigenia as another dead and missing girl following & preceding many; any disappeared deaths when consumed as disposable & replaceable, not given part of any narrative about it. while also iphigenia only gets a chorus of fresa girls from there being crosses put on the factory wall with their names, with one girl even remarking like hey they spelled my name right for once. but at the same time they're also like, both mere Apparitions but also like standins for people who are simply alive. real [shades]esque kind of, i suppose, but like they're not Sanctified for dying either, they'll comment on iphigenia but not with any like, divine knowledge, just as this out of place rich girl. whether iphigenia's A Saint or Not A Saint, she's still dead either way. she wants to be a fresa girl, they maybe want to be her, but everyone's doomed anyways thanks to way larger forces and the Stories that have been told and will be told again
but there's also the moment right before the final section wherein, before she's having to say what she wants within the bounds of [she has to die], there's achilles asking "you still want me" and iphigenia answering with "i want everything" and her vision for, like, getting to be alive actually, i'm on the gulf where the sea is gray, and no one wants a piece of me....the whole inciting event here where iphigenia wants to evade her fate however she can, exiting the bounds of her life, the physical bounds and the family unit and walking away from the rank of status / class / wealth, trying for [have her body for herself] and what the body wants, the sensuous indulgences of (a rave fable), let's hear some more about the roman state like "we don't like the examination and challenge and upending of class and convention in a bacchanalia, so only do the official versions we permit;" the Threat of people's desires for themselves, when that's going to be counter to those in power who'd want these people to be resources at their disposal; the burden on the disempowered to suffer [the only way out is through] with the Additional pain & loss that has to be taken on in pursuit of their autonomy, while also of course suffering for the autonomy they lack, that restricted and controlled and mitigated versions of what you might want are deigned to be provided or permitted so that you have Something, but that everyone's actual undeniable personhood will always be spilling past those bounds, the potential power of transgressive pleasure when one's wellbeing and autonomous choices are counter to the power structures that have to constantly try to suppress and preclude this. achilles just as bait, doomed to die like iphigenia is also still doomed, sex was never going to save everyone and the [recognizing connection as these two parallel people / We're The Same] with your lover here is not going to save everyone but it still makes more things possible for them both; iphigenia does know what she wants, and gets some of it because she wants it, same with achilles in turn, while it can't save anyone from their fates still. but it can mean something even if it doesn't transcend, like even a fleeting night of insignificant dancing that doesn't change anything can mean something, and we all die, but that doesn't mean it's Nothing to be killed any more than it's Nothing to have your desires or choices one way or another to be wrung out of your life before you are
anyways, the stories. the Looking and Presenting here. achilles and iphigenia first encountering each other as images put together and presented by someone else for their own purposes. the presence of what's seen through film/camera/recording versus in person; the potential power relations and even violence in framing, presenting, and the intended looking and assessing. repeated language about eyes/looks that burn, while also that connection between iphigenia and achilles, and their finding the least room in what they do have of their lives for more of their own wants and selves and something genuine and not predetermined, is also connected to eyes and looking and being seen and light and burning. while they're also connected to the protection and possibility of night and darkness, getting to exist and be Without being lit up or seen; that with the power that's still in play, it's never like, well then you should have nothing / no reason to hide; the penultimate moment in the play with achilles being one that's in person and fades into darkness, rather than coming in from the light of a projection / video onscreen as the introduction....iphigenia needing to be guided through a crossroads to even get to achilles in person; violeta giving the Advice and Story and Tradition to pray to eleggua, as iphigenia does before getting to encounter achilles for real, who also doesn't get to break out of a role or a fate in full in any way, but their tragedies are like, pointing towards [autonomy, imagine it] in both the ways they manage to find a little bit of it for themselves, in no small part for simply recognizing each other as in the same boat here, and in the ways they still don't have it and still can't get it
and anyways it's also inevitably saying like, telling a story?? this Play is a told story!! looking? assessing? interpreting? you're doing that in the course of experiencing it! and it's really so fucking true.
#reading the whole of it like okay well i'm different forever now then#tearing a wall down about it like yeah it's extremely chill thanks#iphigenia crash land falls on the neon shell that was once her heart (a rave fable)#what a Narrative can change; what it can't....#those already with the power to do whatever they felt like in the first place just able to create whatever story of events supports that#those whose lives are restricted by that power having to struggle to find any narratives that provide some comfort maybe#whilest perhaps it's the stories that provide an accurate reflection on the pain & suffering in one's reality that are more threatening Lol#like hey i hope that that bacchanalia isn't satiriz....paused to look up ''if satire is based on satyr i'll mclose it lmfao''#Apparently it's not Really; but the latin form was indeed influenced by the greek satyr (for the theatre of it all) on the Mistaken notion#that that Was an influence. so; anyways i hope that bacchanalia isn't satirizing norms & conventions & providing a space to transgress#wherein we can see the Constructed and Enforced nature of things like class such that it can be deconstructed & deenforced#you'd Better not be questioning these conventions by commenting on them even indirectly; playfully; or via imitation....#that achilles can only have this genuine final closeness with iphigenia after voicing & sharing ''i'm dying soon too btw (:''#while iphigenia able to voice what she wants from life is only happening with the context that she'll die & she won't have this#she knows she wants [and nobody wants a piece of me] b/c of knowing that they do; and they'll take it....#their navigating their connection via also rejecting / superseding Their Image(tm). i want to kill the tabloid girl that envelops your skin#i will sink & get rid of every inch of me. that at the end of their scenes of actually interacting it's iphigenia reassuring achilles#who's like [but you wouldn't want Me] [everyone only wants a piece of me] [you'll forget me] vs i will destroy your celebrity; there will#be no one left to adore but me....unmaking oneself in the face of being defined & doomed Already; by the past....#breaking into pieces crash land falling. if you existed once ever that exists forever. the pieces all around & as the foundation#making one's way back around to ''wow just like in pentiment'' again lol....endless things to say all around#as well as when anytime you have something to say you have about a trillion words in the effort to do so#the narrative that matters to you but doesn't save your life still giving you More life while you still have it....#and what gives a little more life than that. and a little more than that
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gojorgeous · 2 months
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“heatwaves”
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pairing: alpha!gojo x omega!fem!reader summary: when a work trip takes you to japan, the last thing you expect is a heatwave... and some guy with blue eyes? content: MDNI (18+ only), nsfw, a/b/o dynamics, no established relationship, dubcon (i feel like it’s always kinda dubcon with a/b/o), p->v, unprotected sex, creampie, breeding, biting, blood, marking, spit, praise, swearing, pet names (baby/sweetheart/princess), brief mention/implication of pregnancy, knotting, reader gets picked up, reader is american, reader is unaware of their omega status, reader experiences their first heat, reader and satoru “bond” without having a fully conscious conversation, reader and satoru are early twenties. a/n: it's here! somebody spay me. by popular demand i have written alpha!gojo for you all… just a classic reader goes into an accidental heat at work and (x) character happens to be the nearest alpha LMAO. this is entirely uncreative, but i love it for that!!! straight smut with a little plot if you squint hard enough! i hope it lives up to your expectations. find my alpha!geto fic here and find the list of my 1k event fics here. enjoy and remember, ALL AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED! credits: dividers by @cafekitsune. wc: 5k
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Nobody ever told you that Japan was so damn hot. 
Hot was not what came to mind when you’d heard you’d be taking a trip to Tokyo. Temples? Sure. Mt. Fuji? Great. Hot? No fucking way. 
But, here you were, boiling away under the sun on what you’d thought would be a fun little work trip. Instead, you were just suffering with every step, trying to listen to what Principal Yaga was saying and failing miserably. 
“These are the sparring courts. No students right now, but they’ll start training within the hour.” 
You rub at the back of your neck, cringing when your palm comes away coated with a thin layer of sweat. Gross. 
You lift your eyes to the sky, wondering how much longer this was going to take. Your little trip to Japan was to organize an exchange program with Jujutsu Tech. Your students had been begging to take a trip to Tokyo, to where their cursed energy would be closer to the source and, consequently, stronger. You had to admit, it was a good idea. A few months spent training here in Japan would do them good. From the moment you’d set foot on Japanese soil, your power had thrummed faster in your veins than ever before. 
Principal Yaga was giving you a tour of the grounds and had sealed your horrible fate when he’d decided to start outside. You barely heard a word the man said. New York was never this hot…
“Are you alright?” You blink, fanning your face as best you can. It provides no relief. God, it felt like the heat was penetrating your fucking bones… 
When your eyes slide to Principal Yaga, you’re surprised to see that he looks genuinely concerned. “Y-yeah.” You blink again, shocked by your own stutter. Maybe you were coming down with something? “I’m fine, just not used to this kind of heat, I guess.” You fan your face again and clench your jaw when it still does nothing. 
Yaga’s brows furrow and you see him glance around, like he’ll find said heat standing next to him. How was he wearing so many layers? 
“How about we head inside and take a break, then? We can continue the tour… later.” You nearly fall to the ground and kiss his feet. Air conditioning is truly God's gift to man… 
You smile and it’s all genuine. “That would be amazing. Thank you.” 
Yaga nods, but you think his eyes linger on you for just a beat too long before he turns. He still looks confused… or maybe flustered? That only leaves you confused. 
You follow after him, each step feeling like you’re sinking deep into cement. You tug at the collar of your shirt, trying to get some ventilation. When you finally reach the building you nearly sigh with relief. Air conditioning… that’ll be good. Just what you need. A few minutes inside and you’ll be good to go. You’ll just have to remember not to wear so many damn layers again when you continue the tour. 
You’re smiling as you step inside, so ready for relief that you’re practically shaking– but relief never comes. Your brows furrow. You brush your arm through the air. It… doesn’t help. It’s strange– you can feel the coolness of the air conditioning, feel it gliding up and across your skin, but the heat doesn’t subside, doesn’t so much as lessen. 
“I trust you know how to find anything you might–” Yaga clears his throat. “Need?” 
 Your brows furrow. He’d shown you all the school’s resources last night and your room was already stocked with food, toiletries, and every other thing you could possibly need. Of course you knew where everything was… 
“Yes… Thank you.” 
Yaga shifts so uncomfortably you think that maybe he’s about to pee his pants. “Right, well, you have my contact information. Let me know if I can be of assistance in connecting you to any… resources.”
You’re more confused now than you were at the start of this conversation. “Right…” 
“Take care.” 
Yaga shoots you one last– worried?- glance and stalks down the hall. You’re left wondering what the hell is happening in his mind and why he seemed so desperate to offer you resources? 
You blink, clearing your mind as best you can, but some sort of fog seems to be settling over your consciousness. Definitely coming down with something, you think. 
You make your way through the halls, steps still feeling suspiciously heavy and heat still radiating off your body. A cold shower. That’ll help. Or so you thought. The further you walk, the more each hallway starts to look like the next. Was it left or right next? Was this hallway always a dead end? Since when was there a bathroom there?
You’re leaning against the wall now, panting. Something is pooling in your gut, something warm and far too intense. Your inner thighs are wet, too. You want to convince yourself it’s sweat, but… you’re horny. More horny than you’ve ever been in your whole damn life. You think you might die if you don’t get some dick in the next ten minutes. What the fuck?
You slide yourself into the next room you see: an empty classroom. Thank fucking god. You grab the back of a chair, hands shaking with how hard you’re gripping the wood. You take a deep breath. You need to get a hold of yourself, need to figure out what the fuck is happening to you.  
You swallow and try your best to think. It’s not without difficulty. Your head feels like somebody’s filled it with glue. It takes a minute for a coherent thought to come through, but when it does, you think it’s a good one. Doctor. 
Yes– you don’t feel well, so obviously a doctor is the correct choice, right? You scramble for your phone in your back pocket but freeze when the brush of your own hand against your ass sends a jolt up your spine. What the fuck is wrong with you? 
Carefully, you extract your phone from your pocket, but it’s too difficult to even remember your fucking passcode. You press your thighs together, trying to relieve some of the overwhelming ache that’s forming between your legs. Something is definitely wrong.
You fumble with your phone, but your hands are shaking so hard it just tumbles to the floor. 
“Fuck,” you breathe. “Fuck, fuck, fuck?” 
“Yo, who’s baking cookies in here without me?” 
Your head snaps up and, with some difficulty, your eyes settle on a… man. You suck in a breath. He’s… dazzling. He’s wearing all black, but it’s not a student uniform. One of the teachers that you’ve yet to meet, then. White hair and pale skin contrasts against his clothes, but his eyes are covered by a pair of sunglasses set low on his nose. Even in your delirious state you still have the wherewithal to wonder who the fuck wears sunglasses inside. 
You get a quick look at him before a wave of intense- fuck, desire?- washes over you. You tremble again and shock yourself when a whimper tumbles from your lips. 
“Oh, shit,” you hear him say. You glance at him from the corner of your eye and watch him inhale again– deeply. His lips part. “Oh, shit.”
You clench your jaw and tighten your grip on your chair. Your legs are shaking now– you can barely stand. You squeak pitifully. 
The second the sound leaves your throat you hear footsteps– rapid, hurried, concerned, ones. Warm hands clasp your waist and you cry out at the touch, electricity sparking on your skin. 
“Shhh, it’s okay.” He turns you gently to face him, hands steadying your swaying body. “Who the fuck left you alone in here?” His hand is rubbing soothing circles on your lower back now and you think you’ve never felt something so good in your life. It’s so good that you almost miss what he said. Almost. 
“W-What?” You see his brows furrow as you peek up at him. At this angle you can see under his sunglasses. His eyes are blue. Really fucking blue. You think he might be the most attractive man you’ve ever seen, even with the expression of… anger?- that he’s currently wearing. 
“Whoever he is, I'll kill him.” 
That makes you blink. An extra sliver of clarity opens in your brain. “What are you talking about?”
He tugs you a little closer, wrapping an arm fully around your waist and pressing you up against him. You try to ignore the fact that you love it, that you want nothing more than to wrap yourself around him and climb him like a fucking tree. 
“What idiot leaves an omega going into heat?” He’s glaring at the doorway like he’s torn between staying here with you and running after said idiot to pommel him into the ground. 
“‘M not an omega.” The words are out before you’ve even stopped to consider them. It’s true. You’re not an omega. You’re a beta. You’ve always been a beta. You’ve got the little “B” on your ID card to prove it. You were tested at birth, just like everyone else, and even if you really were an omega you would have presented years ago.
He only glances down at you and snorts. “Funny, sweetheart.” His hand is still rubbing those little circles into your back and it’s enough to make that fogginess in your mind grow a little thicker. 
But your fear, your uncertainty outways your instinct. You pound a weak fist against his chest, not to push him away, but to get his attention. He’s still glaring at the doorway like he wants to murder it. 
“‘M serious,” you gasp. “I’m a beta… I don’... know whas’ happenin’… to me.” Each word is a tremendous effort to form. Your tongue seems to have lost its ability to do anything but hang limply. 
That gets his attention. He lifts a hand, gently brushing your hair back from your eyes and then cupping your jaw. “Is this your first heat?” 
You find yourself leaning into his touch despite the fact that you’ve only known him for thirty seconds. Your eyelids flutter. “N-Not a heat… jus’ feel… sick.”
His brows furrow again, deeper this time, and he shakes his head. “How old are you?”
You know why he asks. Most omegas present around eighteen or nineteen. “Older than… nineteen…” You try to laugh, but it only comes out as a whimper.
That answer only serves to make him push closer. You feel his hand trailing down your neck, skimming gently over the skin until he reaches a spot you hadn't even realized was so… sore. You keen at the touch. Fuck, no. There was no way. You had swollen fucking scent glands. 
You try to push away, but he pulls you in, burying his face in your neck. You shudder when he groans. “You smell like a damn bakery exploded,” he chuckles, and the sound is muffled by your skin. When he pulls away he makes it look like the action is physically painful. He cups your face again. “Hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but you’re an omega. If this is your first heat then…” he swallows and your eyes track the bob of his throat. “You’re just a late bloomer, baby.”
You shake your head desperately. It’s just the stupid heatwave. It’s just… hot outside… right? 
You try to think about how this could be possible. It could be that the test you took as a baby was wrong… it happened sometimes. It was rare, but it happened. But if you were an omega, what would have triggered your presentation now? What had changed? 
Your eyes widen. Japan. You’d set foot in fucking Japan. Ever since you’d gotten here, you’d felt power pulsing in your veins. Maybe it hadn’t been just power… 
“N-no–” 
A gentle thumb smooths over your cheek and you meet his eyes again. You shiver when you see a whole lot more black than blue. “You have no alpha?” 
You whimper, leaning into him. Touch me, touch me, touch me, a part of you begs. You shake your head again and a tear slides down your cheek. “No,” you whisper. 
Strong arms slide beneath your knees and you squeak when you’re suddenly suspended in the air. When you glance up he’s grinning triumphantly. “You have one now,” is all he says before he’s carrying you out of the classroom and twisting through the halls. 
Warmth rushes over you at the sensation of being held, and something begs you to give into it, to give into the heat still washing over you, to the throbbing between your legs. You fight it and fight it hard. 
“Where’re we going?” you ask, but your voice is sounding more and more like a whisper. 
His eyes stay focused ahead, even as he presses a comforting kiss to the crown of your head. “Your room, sweetheart.” 
Your brows scrunch. “How d’ you know where–” 
“‘M following your scent, baby.” 
He can do that? You bury your face in his neck, embarrassed, only to be hit by a different scent so delicious your mouth starts watering. You groan. Loudly. There’s a scent pouring from his neck that’s filling your head with memories of spices you can’t name, but suddenly know you love. 
You think you hear him chuckle and then feel a gentle hand on the back of your neck, encouraging you. You snuggle deeper into him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and burying your fingers in his hair. Taste him, taste him, taste him your mind chants. It’s too good an offer to deny. You lick a stripe across his skin. 
Your groans are instant. He’s squeezing you closer, leaning into your touch, and you’re pulling him closer. Your fingers curl into his jacket, tugging and tugging. You lick again and now he’s the one groaning. 
“Damn, that feels good,” He sounds as surprised by that fact as you feel. The swaying of his steps comes to a sudden halt. You whine, missing the rocking of his body. “Think we’re here, princess. This it?” His hand is smoothing over your hair, slowly coaxing you away from the curve of his neck. You blink, not wanting to leave the paradise of his scent, but also feeling some overwhelming urge to please him.
Your eyes settle on a door and you recognize a little chip in the wood. You nod. “Mhm.” 
You gasp when his hand grips your hip, wriggling through your pocket until he pulls out a little brass key. 
“Perfect,” he says, and his voice sounds like he’s all too pleased with himself. He shimmies your key in the knob until the lock clicks and then you’re inside. The door slams shut loud enough to make you jump and squeak. 
“Oops, sorry, baby. Guess I’m a little excited, heh.” His hand squeezes your hip soothingly and you mewl at the wave of heat that pulses through you. Your clit throbs almost painfully and you feel something gush onto your thighs. You whimper. 
He inhales. “Oh, shit,” he breathes, and then you’re moving again. He navigates your room like he knows it. He probably does. From what you can tell, most of the rooms at Jujutsu Tech follow a standard layout. He weaves down a hall to the left and then into your bedroom on the right. 
He lays you on the bed gently, tenderly, like he’s afraid you might break if he drops you so much as an inch. “There we go,” he breathes. You can’t deny that it feels good, that it feels right, to be lying on the softness of your mattress, but it’s not enough. 
You claw at him, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck and pulling him close. You want something from him, need something, but you can’t name what. You just know that the heat boiling beneath your skin can only be sated by him, that the throbbing between your legs can only be calmed by him. “P-Please,” you whimper. Tears well in your eyes. You need him so bad it physically hurts. 
The smile he gives you is soft and genuine and it takes your breath away. He dips his head and you think you see him slide those sunglasses down his nose and toss them to the side. You don’t pay too close attention, though, because he’s kissing your neck again and your body is screaming with sensation. 
“Aw, I know, baby. Don’ worry. ‘M gonna take care of you now. Jus’ relax.” 
His words spark something in you– your last bit of consciousness. A brief moment of clarity shines through the fog of your mind and you remember what the hell is happening, what the hell you’re doing. You squeeze your eyes shut and shake your head desperately. No, no, no, this is not happening to you. There’s no way.
“Hey, now. None a’ that.” Fingers clasp your chin, holding you still. When you peek your eyes open, you see that he has in fact removed his sunglasses and that his eyes are more black pupil than dazzling blue. His jaw is clenched and his breathing is heavy. “Don’t try t’ fight it. Jus’ try to enjoy it…” His head dips and suddenly he’s nipping at your scent gland again. 
You thrash and scream, but not in fear or pain. You’ve never felt something so good in your life. Every graze of his teeth feels like heaven. Your skin zings with electricity, sending pulses of pure need straight between your thighs. 
You grab at him, tangling your fingers in his hair and tugging him closer. Your chest is heaving when you speak. “Please, p-please-” 
“Shhh…” You think you hear your shirt tearing, but you’re too focused on pulling him closer to care. His tongue licks a stripe up your throat and your eyes roll back. 
You’re sure your shirt is off now. You can feel the cool air, but it does nothing to ease the heat raging inside you, pulsing and pumping through your veins.You feel him tugging at your pants, too, and you try to raise your hips. He only shushes you again. “Jus’ relax. Let me do the work, baby.” 
Your pants are gone in seconds, even without your assistance. So is your bra and then your panties. He tries pulling away to undress himself, but you mewl and his eyes blow even blacker before he’s back over you again. He settles for popping the buttons straight off his shirt and shimmying out of his pants. 
The sight of his bare skin makes you whimper and then you’re clawing at him again, dragging your fingers across his shoulders, over his chest, down his abs. It’s a greedy touch and one that he returns. His palms move along your body, kneading and squeezing at any flesh he can grab. It feels so good that you think you might pass out– but it’s still not enough. Something is still missing. You feel… empty. 
His fingers trace across your stomach and it’s too late to realize what’s happening before he’s circling your clit. You jerk and jolt at the touch, but he presses his chest to yours, pinning you. The throbbing only worsens when his fingers settle into a rhythm. 
Tears leak down your cheeks. It’s too overwhelming. You’re burning– burning from the inside out. The pulsing between your thighs is all-consuming with its intensity, with its-
“Need! N-Need–” you’re crying out, but you don’t even know what to ask for– don’t even know what you need. 
“God, Fuck, I know, princess,” he groans. He licks a long stripe up your neck. “But ‘s your first heat. Gotta–” he has to pause to swallow. He’s panting, now, just as lost as you are, and you get the sense that he’s restraining himself. “Gotta get you ready… go slow.” 
You shake your head. Now, now, now is all you can think. You need him now. “No… please…” You bury your head in his neck and find that spot that’s pouring his spicy scent into the air. Your mouth waters and you lick him, letting your teeth graze his skin.
“Fuck!” He shivers atop you and you feel the pure strength restrained within his muscles. “Fuck- okay. Okay. Relax f’ me, princess.” 
You try, you really do, but your body refuses to do anything but try to pull him closer. You feel his fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs, pressing them up, up, up until they’re pressed tightly to your chest and your feet are dangling on his shoulders. The position makes you whine, feeling more exposed than you ever have before. 
“You on birth control, baby?” 
Your brows furrow. It’s becoming harder and harder to focus on what he’s saying rather than simply the sound of his voice. Were you? You try to think, try to remember through the pit of glue that is your brain. No…
You shake your head. “N-No…” 
There’s a slight pause, a beat of contemplation, and then he’s laughing. “Guess I’m bouta be a daddy then, heh.” He chuckles again and the sound rings through you with a wave of pure bliss. His lips brush your neck again, settling on your pulse and making you whine. “Don’t really mind as long as I get you.” Your head rolls back submissively, exposing your throat. Yes, yes, yes, your mind screams. There’s nothing you want more than that, you think.“Okay, here we go, baby.” 
There’s hardly any more warning. One second you feel him shifting between your thighs and the next he’s pressing inside of you, feeding his cock in inch by inch. The stretch is… delicious. It burns, fuels that fire inside you, but it makes the heat feel more… pleasurable. Your back arches and your head rolls back submissively. 
“Oh, fuck, princess.” His voice has gotten higher, more like a whine than anything else. When you gaze up at him you can see the flush in his cheeks, even through the fog in your mind. More, more, more your mind screams. Or maybe you say it aloud, because more is exactly what he gives you. The second you feel him tucked up against your cervix the second he begins to take you. He sets a pace that is somehow both brutal and gentle, with strokes that rattle your skull and also give you exactly what you need. His hands grip your hips, holding you still to take exactly what he wants to give. His head dips until he has his lips wrapped around your nipple, and his tongue is swirling so deliciously that you can’t help but drag your nails down his back. 
Your body rocks with every thrust, teeth rattling and eyes rolling. The heat inside you grows… tighter, like it’s all pooling to your core, waiting for something you still can’t quite name. 
“N-need…” You don’t know what you need, still. Only that you want to beg for it so badly it hurts. 
His tongue slides away from your nipple, tracing a line up between the valley of your breasts, over your collarbone, before he finally settles on your pulse once again. The nick of his teeth makes something click in your mind. This is what you need. Bite me, bite me, bite. Claim me, claim me, claim me. 
“Yes,” you breathe. Your fingers dig into his scalp, pulling him closer, coaxing his teeth to sink in, to stake their claim. “Oh God, yes. Please.” You sound delirious, you think, but then so does he when he answers. 
“Not yet, princess. Not yet.” His tongue darts out to lick across your neck again and you can only sob. Why not yet? Now, now, now… 
Tightness coils in your muscles, the throb at your core reaching a breaking point. You feel something coming, something like an orgasm but yet also not. You know that when whatever is pooling inside you releases, you will shatter, and you’re not sure you’ll ever be put back together. 
Your nails claw across his back hard enough to draw blood and the action forces out some sort of low grumble from his chest that makes you whimper and melt into the mattress. The tip of his nose draws a line up your throat. “Keep doin’ that, baby. Mark me up.” 
You don’t dare deny him. You scratch at his skin, desperately trying to pull him closer. His thrusts grow faster and your thighs begin to tremble and shake on his shoulders, overwhelmed with the intensity of all you’re feeling. You pull at him, grab at him, thread your fingers through his hair. 
Your body jolts with each thrust and you’re sure you’re going to burst any moment. But you can’t. Not yet. You still need something, something he hasn’t given you yet. He groans and the sound is so delicious that you feel it sliding over your skin and settling in your bones. 
“M’ gonna knot you now, princess,” he breathes. “Gonna make you feel so good. Gonna take care ‘ve you.”
You whimper at his words. You hope they’re true. You don’t think you can take much more of the incessant gnawing of need in your gut. 
“Please…” your voice is hardly more than a whisper. His breath is hot as it shakes against your neck. He’s licking and nipping at you ravenously, like he needs you just as badly, like he wants to claim you as badly as you want to be claimed. 
His thrusts quicken even further and your jaw falls open, neck arching. You don’t think you can hold on much longer. Apparently, neither can he. 
You feel it the moment he starts to swell inside you. It’s perfect, you think. It can’t get better than this– but then it does. 
His teeth graze your throat again, this time a little harsher and with a little more intent. “Mine,” he whispers. The second he bites you everything goes blurry. 
You’re experiencing… heaven. There is a rush of that electricity that buzzes under your skin. It bursts forth and you feel it reaching out, forming a link between the two of you that you know is now impenetrable. It pulses and burns and you can feel him, feel his pleasure, his desire, his need for you and only you– his need to make you his. You think your souls must be blending, merging, with how deep the connection runs. You think you know him, know everything you could possibly ever need to. You know he’s the one. You know he’s yours.
It’s perfect, the way it fulfills every desire you’ve ever had, the way he notches inside your cunt like that’s where he was made to be, the way his teeth clamp around your throat and bond you together forever.
You scream for him, you think, but you can’t tell through the complete and total haze of pleasure. Your walls spasm around him, milking him for every last drop, and you feel the heat of his cum coating your cervix. The heat at your center finally releases, bursting and flooding through you in a way that feels like pure bliss has been injected into your veins. Your thighs quake and tremble with the pure intensity of it all and white spots dot your vision. 
His body is tense above you, shivering with the magnitude of what’s just happened. He’s groaning into your neck, your flesh still clamped between his teeth like he never wants to let go. You’re not sure you ever want him to. 
Your breaths shake in and out, lungs heaving as you finally come down. His knot is still settled deep inside you and with the few strings of consciousness that slowly filter back into your mind you know that he’ll remain there for a while.
His teeth release from your neck with a squelch that you think you would be sickening in any other context, but only makes you whimper at the loss of contact. He only hums and finds your hand, twining your fingers together as he laps at the fresh bite on your throat. It feels… amazing. Not in the way it felt before, like he was licking pure lust straight onto your skin, but more like he’s giving you a comfort you have never known in your life. You feel safe in his arms, like nothing could ever hurt you here. 
His lips press a final kiss to your throat before you feel him shifting. He gently rolls you both onto your sides, getting comfortable and pulling you to his chest while you both wait for the next wave of lust to hit you. It will, you know. Sooner rather than later, too. Your mind has cleared enough to realize what’s happening, what’s to come. You won’t be leaving this room, this bed, for quite some time. 
A gentle hand brushes a sweaty lock of hair from your eyes before it settles on the nape of your neck, massaging the sore muscles there. You sigh and raise your gaze to find him already looking at you, an easy smile on his lips. He has dimples, you realize, and he’s… breathtaking. And now… he’s all yours.
There’s a beat of silence between you, a moment of reconciliation with what’s just happened between you, of what it means. You blink up at him, your lips parting to say something, anything, but instead your brows furrow in thought.
His smile drops instantly. He leans into you, thumb caressing your cheek. “What is it, sweetheart?” 
Your mouth runs dry. You peek up at him from beneath your lashes. “What’s your name?”
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fox-guardian · 7 months
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hey guys did you know that um. did you know. first of all did you know i'm losing my mind, secondly, do y'all remember in tma how when someone reads a written statement, they don't really Stop unless they're interrupted? and they read the whole thing easy cheesy, no issues with reading whatever words are there? like. jon literally could read french for a whole statement and was Fine. granted, that's Jon, but like nobody else struggled with pronunciations and whatnot (that i can recall)
presumably, this is an eye thing. either as employees of the institute, or because everyone there is just also eye-aligned in some degree (melanie had the ghost hunting show, the eye is fond of martin, etc)
and then there's tim in season 3 ep 86
[Sigh] Statement of… uh, Benjamin Hatendi… Hateendi? Regarding a… [papers rustling] a blanket. Dead friend. Monster. Regarding his unavoidable and gruesome end. How he tried to hide. He couldn’t. Statement is from… 1983, March 2nd. And I guess… [long sigh] I guess I’m doing this one. Tim Stoker. Archival assistant… Archival prisoner at the Magnus Institute.
correct me if im wrong but i don't recall anyone struggling with pronunciations before this bit. but that's not even the biggest thing here, that's just a lil Taste, a lil Flavor.
note the phrasing there. "Regarding his unavoidable and gruesome end." why would he say this when the written text on the statement says this:
Uh, right. Benjamin Hatendi’s account of… [rustling pages] oh for… a, a strange encounter. Er, statement date, March 2nd, 1983. Melanie King recording. Apparently.
"a strange encounter". that's it. nothing about an unavoidable death, just a "strange encounter". Tim Why Did You Say That.
why would our dear timothy bimothy, who is being pushed to the brink, who is becoming rapidly more depressed and losing hope, say this?
this isn't the only time he's said some weirdly grim shit tho (ep 104)
There was never really any hope for me, though, was there? This was how it was always going to go.
and then there's this bit from elias apparently having Looked into tim (also 104)
TIM All right, hit me with your X-ray eyes then, boss. What do you see? ELIAS Disruption. An unpredictable, angry man with nothing left but the desire to feel in some way revenged. TIM [Sarcastic] Ooh, terrifying! Surely only magic could have let you see so deep inside my very soul.
"nothing left" but the desire to feel revenged. and tim doesn't dispute this, because it's true.
when he first joined the institute he did so in order to look for answers about danny, but then he stopped seriously looking. and now that the circus is back, this is all the drive he has left. not looking for answers, just wanting revenge. closure. an end, if you will.
this is Literally It For Him. a couple lines later he suggests elias kill him, he's At The Breaking Point.
he is so tired, he's lost all hope, and he's saying all this grim shit about "unavoidable death" and "this is how it was always going to go" like hmmmm sounds familiar doesn't it. DOESN'T IT (<- is going insane)
(ep 11) [....] despite the rapid response of the paramedics and how much of his medical history I had immediately to hand, there was nothing I could do to save him. (ep 11) I have no responsibility to try and prevent whatever fate is coming for you. Based on my previous experience, such a thing is likely impossible anyway,[....] (ep 121) There. That was it. That was our fate; where we would always be.
hmmmm sounds a bit like oliver huh? everyone's favorite ex-accountant avatar of the end?? right??
but then there's this last bit i have from ep 86.
why did he stop reading the statement
Statement. “My parents never let me have a nightlight. I was always afraid, but they were ju–” Ugh, this is stupid.
why did he do that. again, correct me if im wrong but when else has someone just Stopped Reading like that without someone or something else interrupting them? why could tim just stop himself?
my theory is this: at this point, tim is completely gone from being aligned with the eye. he no longer seeks to know what happened to danny, he just wants closure. he doesn't wanna do any statement work, and he keeps mentioning these tidbits about hopelessness and the inevitability of terrible events, specifically death.
the eye isn't compelling him to read the statements like it does the others, because it doesn't have as strong a hold anymore. the grip is slipping from him. and by the time the unknowing rolls around, maybe it's lost him for good. maybe he finally fell into a different power he never meant to serve, and yet, he does.
and maybe. just maybe. because i'm so not in denial. but MAYBE. he did die in the unknowing. but maybe he got better.
basically end!tim truthers rise up, this is how end!tim kayaking with his bf oliver banks can still win, etc etc I'm Going Feral <3
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churipu · 4 months
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jjk men when you wipe their kisses away (as a joke)
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featuring. itadori yuuji, megumi fushiguro, gojo satoru, sukuna ryomen x reader
warnings. cursing :>
note. i've seen this trend on tiktok in the past, and i feel like it's a really cute idea to write about it. hope u enjoy this :D
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ITADORI YUUJI. the first time you did it, he was like "oh? maybe they did it by accident" and the second time you did it, he was like "okay, this is no accident", but said nothing about it before planting another kiss on your cheek — and much to his dismay, you pretended to use your phone as a mirror and wipe your cheek, particularly the place where he just kissed.
"okay, baby, what did i do wrong?" he finally asks you, sitting straight up, "why are you not letting me kiss you?"
you almost folded, but you looked at him innocently, batting your eyelashes, "hm? i don't know what you're talking about," you tell him with a small smile.
yuuji brushed it off and then gave your cheek another peck, before he knows it, you did the same thing again — wiping the place where he just kissed and then he huffs out, "okay y/n, what is wrong with you? do you hate me now? are you breaking up with me?"
he looked like he was about to break down right then and there, so you figured it was time to stop. and then you laughed at him, pulling him into your embrace, "i'm kidding yuuji, it was a joke."
yuuji rolled his eyes and circled his arms around you, "i thought you were breaking up with me. don't do that again," pouty baby.
MEGUMI FUSHIGURO. "why are you doing that?" he asks, and you arched your brow, pretending to be clueless of what he was saying. he shook his head, kissing your cheek (yet again), and to confirm his question, you wiped his kiss off again.
"that, i meant that," he said, "why are you doing that?"
"doing what?" you retorted back.
"bye y/n." he mutters out, obviously not wanting to play with this game of yours — and when you realized he was serious about this "bye" of his, you jumped up and grabbed his arm.
"i'm kidding gumi," you chuckled, and that was all he needed to hear.
megumi planted another kiss on your cheek, "wipe that again and i'm going for real this time," you didn't wipe it off (you were thinking about it though).
"can i have another one?"
megumi rolled his eyes, "no."
GOJO SATORU. hysterical right from the first time you did it, and was throwing a tantrum about how you shouldn't do that because his kiss privileges are special just for you and nobody else, yet this is how you treat him.
"baby, okay, no more kiss privileges for you. you're done, i'm done. we're both done." he mutters out, crossing his arms.
and when you didn't retaliate with his tantrums, he just had to try planting another kiss on your lips — to which you wiped off right after, and (dramatic) gojo takes that as a big insult. he gasps and pulls himself back onto the couch, sinking in with his brows furrowed and he glared at the floor.
"satoru?"
he grumbles under his breath about how everything was so unfair, how the world's such a cruel place, just being dramatic honestly. he glances at you before throwing his gaze to the side.
"satoru, you're such a baby."
again he gasps, "me? a baby? you started this!" lord, how much more dramatic can he get?
"give me a kiss, satoru."
he clicked his tongue, "no. i told you, you lost your kiss privileges."
you shrugged, "fine. i'll ask someone else for it then."
he folded and immediately threw himself on you, peppering kisses all over your face, "don't do that again, baby. why are you wiping my kisses off?"
you laughed, "it's a joke, satoru."
"i don't like this joke."
SUKUNA RYOMEN. caught on the first time you did it, and he grumbled under his breath about how you should be lucky he's willing to give you a kiss in the first place (he will do it all over again, no matter how many times you want it).
"what was that, ryo?" sukuna groans out when he sees your innocent e/c eyes looking at him, "did you say something?"
he said nothing, "i don't fucking like this shit you're playing with me," he said, facing away.
"what shit?" he glances at you, his eyes doing all the talk. and you laugh loudly at his reaction, "oh, you're so adorable," sukuna rolled his eyes, pushing your legs that previously was lying on top of his lap, "hey! come back."
"fuck off."
"give me a kiss, ryo." he ignored you, so you did it yourself — kissing his forehead, "don't be mad, it's a joke, honey."
he could tolerate your jokes about mostly anything, really (because he's madly in love with you), but never when it comes to jokes that could probably ruin your relationship (he never wants to break up with you).
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© CHURIPU 2023 , DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ANYWHERE !
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morning-star-joy · 2 months
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half asleep, half awake
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Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader, ASHWAH Universe
Summary: Every time Joel Miller realizes he loves you. Every time he wants to tell you, and the time he does.
Warnings: Brief smut (unprotected p in v, possessiveness, creampie), brief reference to canon-typical violence, longing, Joel can’t communicate his feelings until he can, lots and lots of love. Multiple specific references to the main series. Joel's POV.
A/N: I’ve gotten asked a few times when Joel realizes he loves Reader in this series, and the inspiration hit me the other day to write out my answer to it. Because it could be one scene, but so many before, and so many after when he wants to say it. I miss these two and I love these two and I hope that this little companion piece to the fic makes somebody as happy as I was to write them again!
Wordcount: 1.8k
gorgeous dividers by @saradika
Important: Please read this post and how to help Palestine.
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The first time Joel feels it—really feels it, settled into his bones with an undeniable weight, tugging at his heart with an unimaginable lightness—is the night of his 57th birthday.
Months of staying out of his bedroom, of keeping you off his bed, dissolve into a forgotten time the moment you tug the glass of whiskey from his hand.
Move over, you’d said, making room for yourself amongst the place where he laid his head every night. You finish off the drink, take the rest of the poison he’d been diluting his veins with to drown out the pain of all he’d lost, and settle next to him.
He thinks he wants to see you there every night.
You ask him things like his favorite fucking color, things that don’t matter. Not to him, not to you—but you ask anyway. You meet his eyes readily, open and honest and searching his soul for the same old breaks in your own, and he feels it.
You hold his hand, and it fits there. You would fit into his side too, he muses, if he pulled you in.
He wants to pull you in. He wants you in ways nobody’s ever had you—he knows they haven’t, can feel the trepidation in your soul when he looks at you for too long, or lets his touches linger.
You’ll fuck him like there’s no tomorrow, because maybe there isn’t, but you won’t let him hold you tender. Not that he’s tried, but he knows you. Not everything about you, but enough.
And that night, there’s more. More to you, wounds open and pain spilling out, and it looks like his own. It is his own.
I should probably go, you say when it’s become too much, and he feels the urge to ask you to stay.
Joel asks if you want a drink instead, because he’s an idiot, and you say he’s had too much, because you’re right.
He watches from his window as you walk home under the streetlights for once instead of sticking to the darkness, and though he won’t call it what it is, he knows it’s love.
Joel’s loved you longer than that, though. Somehow he knows it, but he can’t place when.
In front of his fireplace, maybe. You’re shivering from god knows how long you had spent in the rain, in the graveyard, in your own mourning. Broken, and he wants to find each piece of you that you’ve lost and put you back together.
Or at least hold you tight enough that you feel okay again. He just knows that he misses your damn smirk, your fucking laugh, and maybe that was love too.
Or maybe it’s when he wants you to be his, his, his only. When he wants to erase the image of that man’s hand on your back with his own on your skin, fingertips digging into your hips and pulling them back to slap against his.
Maybe it’s the skirt of a temptress bunched up around your waist, each desperate thrust of his cock into your needy cunt, dripping and squeezing as you say, moan, scream his name, his, his.
Maybe it’s when you’re half-naked after, admitting you don’t know what the fuck this is, don’t understand what it’s become, and he doesn’t know either. But it’s something delicate. Maybe it’s love then.
Maybe it’s love on the bathroom floor when he realizes you’re the first friend he’s made in years.
Maybe it’s love when he wants to kill every single bastard raider who took you from him, wants to tear them apart with his bare hands and make them bleed and bleed for how much blood they’d taken from you. Precious blood, blood that kept you alive, kept you snarky and angry and wrapped around him each time he took as much pleasure from you as he gave back.
Or it’s Halloween, the bright lights, loud music, and clothes of a bygone era. None of it real until Maria shoves the truth of the matter into his face. She tells him he’s an idiot and just what it all means, what you mean to everyone, and to him, and he finally accepts it.
That’s the first night he has you in his bed. The first night he sees all of you, feels all of you, skin against skin, and you come again, and again, and again. It’s not enough, he needs to keep feeling it, needs you to fall apart in his hands so he can put you back together. A single thread he weaves through you and tugs with each ripple of pleasure, pulling you apart again with each clench of your cunt around his cock, until you pull it from him too.
You fall asleep in a matter of minutes after. Lips parted, and he wished he could watch them swell after a kiss, but you were still holding back.
So he settles for his palm on your cheek, stroking the scar that he still doesn’t know how you got, and feels so much longing, so much love when you sink into his sheets, wrapped up in his favorite color that you knew because you cared to ask. Settled by just the touch of him.
Joel thinks you tried to say something that night, but he’ll never know what. He does know what he wants to say, but he holds back. He’d wait for you, even if you never wanted this too. He’d be whatever you did want him to be.
Time passes in a blur after that, as you tangle yourselves together in ways he never would’ve once thought possible. He doesn’t move, and you lean into him. He doesn’t move, just lets you come to him, too scared you’ll run away again if he holds you too tight, or at all.
Then that night. A meal shared with the family you’d found. He tries to go home alone after, and you chase after him, hold him tight, and he knows. He knows what he feels, and he knows you feel it too.
He doesn’t have to say it, but he wants to. Night after night he wants to, the more that you settle and the more that you’re his. The more that he is yours.
You kiss him, finally—or he kisses you, he can’t remember which. And it says it all.
Still, the words are trapped in his throat as his home truly becomes yours.
His body had already been your home for a year.
His heart, for longer than he would ever know.
But his house. Four walls that didn’t mean anything, not really, not until you lived within them and your sister’s art was on the mantle, your photograph of your parents was in your room that was his room, all your mugs in the kitchen and his coffee was your coffee—he needs to tell you.
He tries to every morning, in his kitchen with your cups of coffee—or tea, with complaints falling from both his mouth and yours if you were out of your preferred beverage. He doesn’t, but he knows you can taste it in the drink he brews for you, perfected to your liking.
He tries to before every patrol, in case somebody takes you from him again. He doesn’t, but he knows you can see it when his eyes seek yours, when he gives you a nod and a lingering gaze before you’re out of the gates and on your way. He knows you can feel it when you both get home, his arms wrapped around you tight and the tension seeping from his body when you’re pressed to him.
He tries to every night, but it’s lost on his tongue every time it slides into your mouth. He knows you know with every kiss, every thrust of his hips from where he’d found a home nestled between your thighs, spilling himself into you as you welcomed him in and made the most beautiful music every time.
You’re comfortable in bed months after the holidays, after that first kiss. Winter is warming into spring, the air feels like starting again, and he tries to tell you.
You’d been reading when he crawled into bed behind you after a shower. His face buried into your neck, each drop of water onto your skin so cold it makes you shiver. But your nails dig into his forearm when it wraps around your waist, the book tumbling from your fingers as you grasp at the nightstand with each drag of his pulsing cock inside your tight heat.
The lamp on the nightstand rattles with each thrust, sending waves of warm light flashing across the room. He’s mesmerized each time it washes across your face, pinched in the familiar climb for pleasure you trusted him to guide you through. He mouths at the scar on your cheek, caressing with lips and tongue as you gasp his name.
You’re so beautiful. His moon, his heart, his home, his everything.
Joel wants to tell you when you come, your eyes fluttering open and seeking his. Seeking that connection between you, as hungry as you are reverent, and he doesn’t deserve it, that undying loyalty. But you think the same for yourself, so what did either of you know, besides what this was.
Love, and he wants to say it. Wants to say he loves you when each flutter of your pussy around him sends him spiraling into an orgasm, a blissful moment of release he now only ever associated with you.
Half asleep after, you’re content, the warm light of the steadied lamp caressing your skin as he cleans it. You know what he wants to say, he thinks. Your eyes are heavy and lazily watching as he kisses the inside of your thigh, peppers his love up your body to your lips.
Half awake, Joel watches you reach for him, pulling him down into a soft caress of your lips against his, with more tenderness either of you ever thought you were capable of.
He won’t say it. You know he won’t.
But you know he will. Someday.
And that one morning amongst many that belong to just you and him, when you ask about other lives, when he realizes you’d want him in more than just this one—in every one—he says it.
You say it back, and everything is right.
When you ask him when he first felt it, he tells you the truth; that he hadn’t felt it just yet on that snowy street a year ago, but a part of him always knew he would love you.
And now, Joel knew he always would.
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angxlofvenus · 9 months
Note
hi, hi, hi! could I request the brothers + diavolo during a meeting together when their s/o (the mc) starts to doze off and then suddenly faint? Turns out, the MC forgot to drink water that day-
That happened to mr a few days ago, it wasn't fun - so here's a reminder for you to drink some water too :')
Thank you so much for the request!!! I am so so sorry to hear that happened, I hope you're doing better <3 If anything in this post seems insensitive please let me know! Have a wonderful rest of your day/night
Genre: Mostly fluff, Some Hurt/Comfort Ship: Demon Brother+Diavolo x reader (individual) TW: Minimal cussing, mentions of fainting, mass panic, yelling, second person pov for reader (If I missed anything please tell me!!)
When You Faint
You watched as the clock slowly ticked by the minutes as the Demons around you spoke amongst themselves, Your talking had slowly come to a stop as the room started to spin, Some of the men looked at you strangely but nobody expected you to fall out of your chair and onto the council room floor...
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Lucifer
He's immediately up out of his chair
Oh lord, he’s now fully in mother mode-
Barking orders at everyone, Yes this includes Dia
As soon as he gets over to you his wings are out, shielding you from everyone else
Once you come to, He isn’t letting you out of his sight
And once he finds out you fainted because of dehydration? 
He would so buy you one of those big ass waterbottles 
One of these mfs
Mammon
Freaking out pt. 1
Definitely hootin’ and hollering
He is indeed making a scene
Won’t really be on you until after you wake up because he knows Lucifer and Diavolo can do more for you then he can
After you have awoken though? He isn’t letting you out of his sight
You don’t have to worry about remembering to drink water, He’s there to remind you now!
Humans are such fragile creatures and now that he's seen that firsthand, He will barely let you do anything
He will make sure you are healthy whether you like it or not dammit
Levi
Freaks out pt. 2
Somehow freaking out even more then Mammon
He doesn’t know what to do! He leaves his room one time and this is what happens!
Will kind of just stand there in shock as everyone erupts into chaos
He isn’t the best example of someone who looks after their body lets be honest
But when ya’ll are gaming You’ll start to see some more healthy options popping up in the mix of chips and soda
He will beat himself up over not noticing, Please comfort this man before he decides you resent him
He won’t ever really bring it up but rest assured, It will never happen again
Satan
Would also run to your aid
He has read a lot of medical books in his time, He knows what to do
Would take you to a doctor afterwards, just in case
Kind of beats himself up for being unaware of your condition
I don’t think he’d freak out as badly after the incident, He knows it was probably a one time thing
Will bring up in conversation casually if you’ve eaten and drank water today, just to be sure
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Asmo
Screams
Freaks out pt. 3
Yelling at Lucifer/Satan to do something!
Will be all over you as soon as you’re awake
Don’t scare him like that! 
Will get extra pouty when he learns why you passed out
Has Ya’lls self-care sessions meant nothing to you?!
No more of that, not on his watch
He will offer you water at random times throughout the day
Studying? Water! Watching Tv? Water! Sleeping? Water! no, no, Beauty sleep is important
Beel
Doesn’t knows what's happening, Why are you on the floor?
Will stand on the sidelines concerningly as he watches Lucifer take over, He trusts his brother to help you
Will also feel immense guilt he didn’t see the signs, He just wants to keep everyone safe 🙁
When he thinks Ya’ll are doing something too straining for a human, He’ll stop to ask if you’re okay/ need a break
Will start carrying around a water bottle specifically for you 
Belphie
He totally wasn’t sleeping when it happened, nope
Woke up to his brothers and the Prince of the Devildom freaking out around you
I don’t think he’d really get too involved with helping since he doesn’t actually know wtf just happened
If you don’t immediately perk back up, He’s gonna cuss out Lucifer and maybe try to fight him
Gets a little snappy at everyone (except you ofc) after the incident
He even started to set alarms on your DDD as reminders to drink water
Will tease you just a teeny bit, But you can tell how worried the entire thing actually makes him
Diavolo
Was over to you in record time
Commands everyone to step back from you while he calls Barbatos and a royal doctor
You will be given the best treatment don't worry
He thinks he's being very sneaky about making you drink more water He is so obvious about it, it hurts
You will definitely notice how Barbatos now almost immediately refills your glass as soon as it’s half full
Another one to openly ask if you’ve drank enough water that day
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swiftiekisses · 8 days
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divine figures — luke castellan + reader : nothing could steer luke off his path to god now, until you came along. 
tags : southern setting au, small town setting, loser!luke, idolization, christian religious references & imagery, religious inconsistencies, church sex, religious guilt, body worship, sex but poetic, cannibalistic imagery…………..
a/n : heavily inspired by the lovely @murdrdocs!! 
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luke castellan was never one to follow a religion, well, not at first he wasn’t. he thought it was all bullshit, to put your all into someone nobody is sure even exists, it’s bullshit. but then his mom began insisting that he went, that he needed to find god, they both did, so he went.   
luke lacked a father figure, so when he stared up at the statue perched at the apse of the church, he found the man he always lacked in his life, no matter how much the statue ignored his gaze, never bothering to look his way. he was quick to read the bible like it was a drug he just couldn’t get enough of, he sat straight with his eyes forward during each sermon, he kept himself pure. 
and he stuck true to that, until you came. 
he never really noticed you at first, but you were always there. 
always looking over your shoulder to his place in the pew, always smiling at him when he accidentally glances your way, always passing by his house on your bike on hot summer days in hopes of seeing him outside, shirtless and working on his mother’s car. 
you hadn’t mustered up the proper courage to speak to him, not until your parents have tugged you over to where he stood with his mother in the nave. your mother and father immediately sparked up conversation with his mother, leaving you to awkwardly look around the church in hopes of finding something worthy of speaking of. nothing, there was nothing. so you just mumbled out a, “hey.” 
he hesitates for a second, “hi.” 
“did you like the sermon?” your southern drawl, along with your sugar coated smile, luke can feel the thumping of his heart against his knit sweater. 
“‘course,” he smiles shyly, “i always do— um.. did you?” 
you nod at him, your ability to hold eye contact so well had him feeling nervous, constantly breaking it to glance around the room, “are you excited for easter?”
luke’s lips curve to a brighter smile, one that proves that he hopes that with jesus’ return, there will be a proper savior for him, his prayers will finally be listened to, maybe for once the statue on the wall will glance his way. 
jesus molded everything about luke, at this point, if he couldn’t believe in his father, jesus was going to take that place— and he did, luke was taught everything by the bible, all he ever relied on was the words of the lord, everything he ever did was a representation of what lied in those scriptures. he never worshipped another god, never said the lord’s name in vain, always remembered sabbath day, as well as honored his mother and… father. 
he didn’t commit adultery, in fact, he never spoke to women, really. his mother kept him sheltered, he was only allowed to speak to the women at church, not any of the women who rode on their bikes past his house, or smiled at him in the library. he just stared at them for a minute and looked away, contemplating how different things would be if he was able to speak to them. 
at the thought of women, luke’s mind races back to you, who is currently blinking at him and thinking he didn’t hear you. “i am excited— for easter, will you be at— the um.. the church that day?” 
another nod, then an awkward silence as you find nothing more to say, and neither does he. the church was a beautiful place, decorated with swirls of gold and dark wood, colorful stained glass windows that painted pictures of jesus, or virgin mary. if luke could move out of his home and live somewhere he genuinely enjoyed, it would be the church. 
there was something so comforting about it, maybe the faint music that played in the background, or the way it smelled of old books and floral perfumes, or the fact that it was just a place where so many people went to put their faith into someone. god was just so important, if luke didn’t know any better, he’d envy him. 
“you should come on sabbath days,” you interject his thoughts, leaning in to his vision. 
he blinks, eyes refocusing on your face, and he awkwardly chuckles, scratching the back of his neck, “i thought they were for relaxation?” 
“and worship,” you correct, and he crystalizes the memory of how each word sounds on your tongue, how it flows out so well, how it makes him swallow. 
“right, right,” he wets his lips nervously, “i’ll just— ask my mom. mama?” 
as soon as he asks his mom, she’s all smiles at him, nodding and even shaking your hand, thanking you for urging him to go to church more. 
“i’ll see you there,” is the last thing you say to luke that day. 
˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚
luke would be a liar to say he wasn’t riddled with visions of you in the darkest parts of the night, they started from the day you first spoke to him, and never left him since. he hated how much it plagued him, because it tempted him so well. it was like you were eve, offering him, adam, the apple. you reassure him that it’s sweet, that there’s no harm in taking a bite, and luke is parting his lips, ready to taste it, when he finally wakes up. 
the heat of the room is beating down on him, even in the cool of the night. his skin is sticky from sweat, and all he can ever think about is you. it should be a crime, really, how much you had consumed his every waking thought. for once, he wasn’t thinking of the bible verses he would be reading that day, what prayer he would be saying. 
luke didn’t know one thing about women, but the way you spoke to him, the way you smiled at him, the glints in your eyes, it had him wondering how he could make your face twist up in pleasure— fuck. he shouldn’t be thinking like this, it’s unholy, it’s weird, but he’s already in too deep. 
he’s already fed the memory of how pink your lips are, how soft they look, they probably feel the same. is it a sin to wonder how well you kiss? would you be all - consuming? or slow, sweet? luke doesn’t know why he prefers if you’d be hungry, if you’d bite and nip at him like you’re hungry, like he’s the last supper. 
his boxers feel tight on his skin, dick twitching in the confines of them. luke hardly knows this feeling well, he wasn’t one to allow himself to get hard, nor was he one to properly take care of it. but something about the idea of your teeth clashing against his when you kiss him, pushing your tongue into his mouth to taste him properly— it had his fingers pushing underneath the waistband of his underwear. 
when his fingertips graze his cock, he immediately shudders, lashes fluttering. every time luke touched himself, it felt like the first time, only now it felt.. better. better because he was thinking of you. luke had never watched porn, he hardly knows what it is, so the idea of what sex would be like is.. a gray area for him. 
but he works with what his mind is capable of, which is dry humping. the first setting that comes to mind is the church, which leaves a bitter taste on his tongue, but he goes with it. it comes to vividly, you on his lap, wet patch evident on his jeans from where your hips push down, whispering sweet nothings into his ear. when you moan, he does, when you whimper, he does, when you roll your hips, he does. 
everything was in sync, and it was all so sinful. masturbation itself wasn’t a sin, unless you thought of someone, and for the longest time, luke never thought of anyone, but you were a parasite he couldn’t shake, and he honestly wasn’t sure if he wanted to. 
luke wonders how much the priest will judge him when he utters these thoughts, these events in the confessional tomorrow. he has only ever uttered small, pitiful confessions, i didn’t help my mom with dinner, i turned in a book to the library late, i forgot to pray. he’s never had to confess anything larger. 
heat bubbles in luke’s stomach, it’s pleasant, sweet, but it curls, and curls until it’s suffocating, until his wrist is hurting from the fast pumps of his cock, sweat glistening on his skin, cheeks flushed. he can feel a whine scratching up his throat, in the confines of his mind, something is screaming at him, telling him to stop, but it’s too late, he can barely hear it over the blood pumping in his ears. 
˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚
when luke comes into the church the next day, it’s a saturday, a sabbath day. typically on these days, he would be spending his time lounging around his house, reading some piece of classical literature that he has hidden from his mother, wishing to keep the inked pictures of statues reeking of desire for one another a secret. 
but he was here, and so, he prayed. 
the sun had barely risen over the horizon (courtesy of daylight savings), yet the candles in the church were lit, leaving an orange hue to project around the empty room. 
luke felt gross, corrupt, unholy. 
for once, luke feels as though the statue above is glaring down on him, and he tries his best to not shrink into himself under the piercing gaze. he knows. his mouth is dry with each prayer, fingers sweaty around the rosary, but he wouldn’t allow himself to falter once more. 
as soon as he starts his fifth prayer, he hears the creak of the floorboards that he knows all too well, eyes fluttering open so he can look back to see who was there, hoping they hadn’t heard his last confessions in his prayers. 
you. his mind is tugged to a halt, every prayer he had rehearsed on his way to the church, completely forgotten. it was all just.. you. you seared on his skin, burned him until he was nothing but smoke. your gaze softens on him, a stark contrast to jesus’ pointed glares, “i didn’t think you’d come.” 
his voice is coarse from the nonstop prayers, “of course i would.” 
all he can think about is you underneath him, his own skin bitten and scratched, decorated in mulberry and deep pinks, he’s practically salivating at the idea. he wonders if, behind the confines of the church walls, would anyone hear you? would the priests dare to look for whoever is letting out such unholy noises? 
luke feels frozen the second he comes back to reality, dick hardening underneath the fabric beyond his control, his mind is tearing itself apart before he can even realize you’re speaking to him. 
“— wondering if you’d like to sit next to me tomorrow,” you pose, seemingly unaware of the bulge in luke’s pants that he is desperately trying to naturally cover with his hands. but you knew, you knew the effect you had on him, and he had the same effect on you. 
is it so cruel to only tease him harder? 
luke swallows the remaining saliva in his drying mouth, quickly moving to a stand, rosary bringing more attention to his covered crotch, “sure, yes— um.. i need to— go.” 
before you can even say anything, he is pushing past you, hand moving only to chastly grab your waist for a mere second as he passes, an instinct of trying to keep you stable, but it only makes a heat between your legs grow. 
desires go both ways, and it’s only a matter of time before they snap. 
˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚
easter was once luke’s most anticipated day of the year, but now it was the day of his nightmares. he barely slept last night, kept himself awake with chores, prayers, and reading the bible until it made him sick. he couldn’t have another dream, he couldn’t let you get to him anymore. he thought it would be easy to avoid you today, but he was cursed with his own mistakes as you sat down next to him in the pew. 
the worst part wasn’t that you sat down next to it, it’s that his mind was riddled with disgusting thoughts as soon as he saw how your dress brushed up your thighs, it was so simple, such a small act, but it just made him think the worst possible things. 
you bent over the pew, the bottom of your dress tugged up to show your panties, his hands are gripping your hips like his life depends on it, crotch pressed to your clothed pussy from behind. 
luke blinks back with his cheeks hot, noticing the bible in your hands. when he speaks, he doesn’t even realize what he’s saying, it’s like he’s possessed, “what verse are you reading?” 
“luke 22:40,” you say it so simply, a smile barely teasing your lips. 
on reaching the place, 
he said to them, “pray that you 
will not fall into temptation.” 
the saliva on luke’s tongue is sour, near poisonous, his lips were stained maroon from the skin of the apple. luke 22:40 was the exact line he had been reciting to himself, luke was his name. the serpent was squeezing him tight, his breath felt swiped away from his lungs. 
luke is quiet for the rest of the evening, even through the sermon, when he should be smiling when everyone else is, clapping when everyone else is— he is just silent, blank - faced. 
you can’t decipher what he’s feeling until everyone has gone off to eat after the sermon, and he’s tugging you back into the pew once it’s vacant, fingers forming a tight grip around your wrist, “why are you doing this?” 
he’s out of breath, and no matter how tough he tries to seem, he sounds pathetic, his voice a near whimper, like he’s pleading with you. 
“doing what?” you blink up at him, doe eyes making his teeth press together. 
“you’re tempting me— this, this isn’t fair, why?” his breath is shaky when he exhales. 
“i’m not doing anything, luke.” 
“you’re making me think— making me imagine things.. sinful things.” 
“what exactly are you thinking?” your voice is softer, and the heat of the sun is seeping into the church. 
“i..” how can he explain himself? every image that he wants to communicate is all too disgusting, a mixture of hunger and desire, it seemed luke wanted you to eat him alive, “you know what i’m thinking.” 
“why don’t you show it to me?” 
absolution; 
formal release from guilt, 
obligation, or punishment. 
or.. 
an ecclesiastical declaration
of forgiveness of sins.
morals trickle down luke’s back when he kisses you, he knows it’s all wrong, he knows he could just leave it at a kiss, but he didn’t want to be haunted with these visions any longer, maybe if he made them a reality, they would just leave. he could be himself again, the picture - perfect religious boy he was always supposed to be. the kiss is small at first, the hesitant movement of lips, the adjusting to the feeling, but it quickly grows into something hungry. 
luke didn’t know how to properly kiss, so he just followed your lead, and soon enough, he was kissing you like a starving man. from tongues clashing, to his hand mindlessly moving to your hip, body pressing against yours, it was everything he saw in the pictures printed in those books he read. 
when luke falls back into his seat on the pew, you had pulled away from him, admiring how flushed his lips are. when your hand meets his jaw, luke forgets who his god is supposed to be, all he can think about is you, even on the day dedicated to the man he has spent all of his life worshiping. 
“please,” it’s barely even audible, only made out by the slight flick of his tongue from the l. 
“tell me what you want.” 
it felt like luke was sitting in the confessional, admitting all of his nastiest desires when his lips part, finally being able to say his thoughts out loud, “can you— ride me? or.. if you don’t want to— that’s okay.” does luke know what riding is? only from the overheard gossip of other men, but he was told it was something he had to try, when he got married, of course. 
“i want to,” it’s as if you aren’t in a church, as if nobody could just walk in and see how you’re moving onto his lap, moving his hands to your ass, letting his desperate fingers tug your dress up. his purity bracelet brushes against your skin when you move to guide his hands to your ass, watching the nervous look in his eyes when he squeezes the flesh. 
he has no idea what he’s doing, he just wants to please you, to make you feel as good as he made himself feel to the idea of you the other night. maybe, at this point, luke isn’t praying to jesus, maybe he never was, because you were always in the back of his mind. no matter how guilty it made him feel, how many times he had squeezed his tear - ridden eyes shut and wished he was different, wished he wasn’t so easy to fall for temptation. 
god is watching, is what his mind tells him, but your eyes tell him to keep going, watching as he moves his hands to unbuckle his belt, the sound of metal clinging being so improper for the walls ridden with crosses, but it just felt so right. he sucks in a sharp breath when he pulls out his dick, the cool air searing his delicate skin, pupils blown wide when they watch your lips slightly part at the sight. 
 “you’re so big,” is all you can manage out. 
luke’s lips twitch around a small smile, “is that a good thing?” 
“if it fits,” you move through a few twists to properly take your panties off, letting them hang off your ankle when you reposition yourself to have your entrance pressing against the tip of his dick, “then yes.” 
luke’s lips press together as soon as you start sinking down on him, you’re so slow with it it’s almost torturous. the holy water he had dipped his water in and pressed to his skin, was now scorching him with each inch that filled your velvet walls. when you reached the hilt, it was safe to say you felt stuffed, and luke was making more noise than you. 
whimpers, grunts, he tried to hide them all behind the confines of his lips, but they dug their nails into his throat and crawled their way up until it was impossible for him to hold them back. as soon as you began moving, luke was purely fighting for his life against the own noises leaving him to the point of where he had to sit up, pressing his lips to your neck, he was quick to press his lips against the sensitive areas, biting, sucking— he wasn’t even sure if he was doing it properly, but he was just so desperate. 
he wanted you to shatter him like fine porcelain, to snap off his glass parts and crush them underneath your fingers with pure ease, to deconstruct every inch of him that he had taken years to build. no matter how empty he would feel in the end, to put himself in your hands, like a lump of clay in the hands of a goddess, he trusted your instincts. 
“i want you to ruin me,” he mumbles against the flesh of your neck, barely audible. 
“what?” your voice is breathless between moans, walls tightening around his dick with each movement of your hips. 
he whimpers out a simple, “sorry.” 
you didn’t forget his words, though, in fact, you let your fingers run through his dark curls, tangling through them until you tugged him back from your neck, just so you can take his place, now the one pressing your lips to his neck. he felt small underneath you, but he didn’t hate it, he liked the way that your lips felt on his skin, enough for him to lean his head back to provide you more blank canvas. 
you painted him in maroons and mulberries, blooming rose petals on his skin, marking him as your own. no matter how much luke knew he would be praying for forgiveness tonight, in this moment, everything he’s ever stood for has fallen off his broad shoulders. his hair is messy and sticking to his sweaty forehead, skin peppered with bite marks, deep reds, purples, every color in between and beyond.
“‘m gonna—“ luke’s words come out choked, dick pulsing inside of you, “gonna cum—“ 
luke’s orgasm hits him hard enough to have tears pooling into his eyes, maybe it was the guilt, or the everlasting pleasure, he wasn’t entirely sure, how could he even be? all he could think of was you, now. 
“do you still believe in god?” you offer him once you’re off him and he’s putting his belt back on. 
he stares at you for a second, hesitating, then his lips part, “yes.” 
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livinghostly · 18 days
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i will hold on to you for as long as you let me — megumi fushiguro x mom!reader, satoru gojo x reader
a/n: sorryyy the fushiguro-gojo family dynamic was rotting my brain and i needed this out of my system. LOTS of projection of my fear of growing up in this one soz. this was fully meant to be a drabble and it just kept going idk wc: 3.1k angst/fluff. mom!reader has a lot of bittersweet thoughts about megumi growing up and satoru is there to comfort <3 lots of parentheses and lots of repetition
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you put on a brave face all day. all week, even. despite the burn in your chest that engulfed your lungs and squeezed unrelentingly. despite the tears that burned the corners of your eyes delicately balancing on the your waterline, one blink away from breaking the surface density and opening the floodgates to pour down your cheeks. despite the non-stop ache of your stomach, churning what you ate every day but still holding the same emptiness as anxiety consumed you.
megumi didn’t pack much, he never held on to many things to begin with. (you always prayed for that to change, for his comfort your home. you prayed he would see it as his own, as well). he neatly folded his clothes into his suitcases and stacked his hangers on top. he purchased a new sheet set for his bed in the dormitory because the one he was used to was much bigger, much softer. 
he packed most of his books, carefully picking out the ones that tugged at the nostalgic parts of him, frayed along the edges after many years of re-reading, as well the ones that still had vibrant covers and stiff spines he hoped to finish. you noticed the leather journal he kept tied together– the ink-blotted pages bursting at the seams –sitting on the shelf before he tucked it into his box of personal belongings. it was his third one since living with you, all filled to every last page and used beyond ruin. the rest were hidden between his headboard and the wall. you pretended not to know, after stumbling upon them while changing his sheets.
closing the door to your home felt eerily empty. it looked the same as every day. the couch was cleaned and the floors swept. dishes rinsed and promptly put away. but with your lingering gaze your mind fixated on the dining table set for four, two adult pairs of shoes at the door, one pink backpack slumped on the hook of the closet door with an empty space below. your chest twisted at the lack of clutter, though it’d been like that for some time, with tsumiki and megumi growing older and cleaning up after themselves properly like you taught them. like you wanted. the pride you initially felt with those memories of parenting were becoming eclipsed with resentment and despair.
the ride to school was quick and familiar, megumi knew well what he was getting into after visiting there to train. satoru liked to call them little getaways from megumi’s civilian life, claiming he wasted too much time around non-sorcerers when he could be on missions with his ever-loving benefactor instead.
satoru, who was whining while he laid himself across the three seats in the back of your car. you’d banished him there for such a special occasion, and he threatened to transport himself to the school alone. an empty threat, at best. he didn’t want to miss this. 
megumi had sparred with the older students and found himself thrown around the field many times already. he knew his way to the infirmary by heart, he knew where gojo tucked away his most powerful curse-imbued weapons (that were supposed to be under the surveillance of higher ups), and knew what letter-number combination granted him the ginger chips nobody else seemed to like. 
you were glad he was comfortable. you were glad he would fall into routine easily after the repeated trips to jujutsu high and developing a rapport with his upperclassmen. you’d waited for the day that he’d truly be part of the jujutsu world and welcomed into a better suited environment for people like him. and you knew he would be great, he already possessed an incredible technique and wielded it like he’d been fine-tuning it since birth. far ahead from most kids his age, you were proud.
still, your gut was sinking, sinking, sinking into the floor with each passing second.
megumi picked his room in one of the far-away corners of the boys dormitory, leaving inumaki and panda heartbroken (panda said he would find a way to organize sleepover. megumi said he would drop out before that happened. inumaki cried– no, wailed at the rejection). yuuta fell into step with you, slipping one of the boxes out of your hands and insisting on helping instead. it was sweet, if it didn’t feel like he was ripping precious time away from you.
but you smiled, and granted his wish. megumi wasn’t complaining, he liked yuuta more than the others. it was a good chance for them to talk more. all of this, a chance, a new chapter, the rest of his life. the thoughts weighed on your shoulders with a disgusting strain traveling to your fingertips.
you were painfully aware you were in your own head, doing this all to yourself. he wasn’t going away, you would still be seeing him, more than you used to when he went to his other schools. he would always be here.
satoru found you in your classroom, while you were organizing the stationary with an unnaturally stiff composure. your arms were tense, he could see the muscles constantly flexing with each of your movements.
your jaw was clenching and unclenching again. you made a point not to look outside, where the second-years were training brashly after successfully moving their things back into their dorms. you made a point not to meet satoru’s dangerous stare as he shut the door to your classroom, as if it granted any privacy with the seven large windows running along the wall that showcased the hallway. 
“what are you doing all by yourself, beautiful?” his tone was soft and inviting, begging you to open up and let yourself fall against the cushion of his words. 
“um,” you exhaled, voice shaky. you scrunched your face to break apart the tension that had hardened your expression. “i figured i would get a few things ready for tomorrow.”
it took satoru’s long legs two-and-a-half strides to meet you at your desk, where you gently shut the drawer. there were a handful of dated photographs in there, signed with his name and the chicken scratch of two children. 
“it’s all ready, baby. we did that last week.”
(correction: you did it. he tagged along for the shopping trip).
“there’s just… a few things...” you mumbled, not finding the strength to finish your own sentence. 
satoru gently placed his hand on your shoulder, emitting inhuman warmth that spread across your skin. you leaned into him as he dragged his hand down your arm and intertwined your fingers with the care of handling fine china. his presence brought you solace, effortlessly bringing the walls down that you desperately wanted to wait until you got home to break.
he kissed the back of your hand and rubbed the skin. “you know you’re going to see him every day, right?”
it was embarrassing how well satoru knew you, knew your thought process like it was an extension of his own. he knew your doubts and insecurities, your fears and desires. he could predict the words before they came from your mouth, more in tune with the way you spoke than his mother tongue.
“mhm.”
“you know we’re going to be the ones chaperoning his missions, right?”
you closed your eyes and looked away. “i know.”
“do you remember when he said he’d like to go home some weekends, and have dinner?”
“he said that to be nice.”
“when has he ever been nice?”
you opened your eyes to glare at him, though he was right. megumi was not nice. he was polite. he was too self-aware for his own good, too perceptive of others and their emotions. in all the time that you’d known him, raised him, he made himself smaller for the convenience of others. he walked on his tiptoes for a year and a half so no one else would wake up because of him. he made his own breakfast and bit back his tears when he burned himself. he didn’t ask for things or food and didn’t offer his input unless asked directly. for some time, he was a ghost in his own home. 
it seemed as soon as the bits of his shell started to break off, he was being swept away from you by the jujutsu world, leaving you with looming fears that consumed your mind and disrupted your sleep for weeks.
satoru smiled, though it was weighed down with your sadness. “hey, he’s not going anywhere, you know that. just because you’re not driving him home everyday doesn’t mean he’s gone.”
it’s funny, it’s nearly the same speech he gave you when tsumiki started middle school. and when megumi followed those same steps.
tsumiki didn’t make it this far, though.
the thought makes your lip wobble again, and you bite it back pathetically.
“i know. i know that. it’s just that…” your voice cracked, and you shoved your head in your hands. your palms squeezed your eyes in a desperate attempt to stop the already-flowing tears. “he’s not my little boy anymore.”
satoru’s soothing hands pull you into a tight hug, and you don’t have it in you yet to move your hands from your face. his embrace makes you sob harder, louder as all your emotions from the last week begin to pour out at once. his chest rumbled with your cries, and he tucked you further under his arms as if to shield you from what was making you hurt so much. it was all you.
“baby…” he chuckled, without a hint mirth or mockery. he squeezed you with compassion and adoration. “you know that’s not true. he’s still pretty short, he’s got another growth spurt coming.”
a small laugh slipped through, but was quickly drowned out by your cries.
“he’ll be okay. he’s still here.”
he was so, so warm. he gently began to rock back and forth with you, the heels of your shoes gently clicking on the tile floor. a small hiccup erupted from you as you found the strength to wrap your arms around him, burying your face into his chest. the familiar thrum of his heartbeat welcomed you.
“i know, i’m sorry. i know he’s not leaving, or anything… i just… i thought i was ready.” you blubbered into his button-up. surely, there’d be two wet spots where your eyes were when you pulled away.
he swayed side to side with you, staring at the blackboard ahead of him. he nestled his chin on the top of your head, wondering if you could hear the cracks tearing through his heart. “it’s okay if you’re not ready. but you’re treating this like it's goodbye.”
“but what if we don’t get a goodbye?”
“okay, you really are overthinking this,” he pulled away from your embrace, your fingers still digging into the material of his shirt. he brushed away the hair covering your eyes, stuck to your skin by the wetness of your cheeks. streaks ran through your foundation and the corners of your eyes were smudged. “there you are. so pretty.”
it was silly how he believed he could make things better like that. it was silly that he was a little bit right.
“don’t think for a second i’ll let megumi be sent on a mission he can’t handle. he’s going to be fine.”
satoru’s love ran deep. for you, for megumi, for all his students. he fought curses everyday for you, rotted himself with his technique and stitched himself back up in a moment’s notice to fight for you. to come home to you. all of humanity be damned, those closest to him were the ones he fought for, and he would do everything in his power to preserve their lives.
he already towed the line with the higher-ups and their conservative rules and regulations, but he would tear them down if you asked. for megumi, he’d fight tooth and nail to see that he wasn’t being sent off on a mission ill-prepared. under his watch, things would be different for his students. 
you nodded meekly, wiping away your tears with one hand. “i hate when you’re right, toru. it’s really annoying.”
he smoothed down your hair and grinned. “i know, just let me have this one, though.”
his sweet murmurs filled your ears, along with the gentle shuffling of your clothes as you made yourself presentable again. you balled up your sleeves and patted the corners of your eyes gently, and he straightened out the hem of your shirt. it was wrinkled, a reminder of how harshly you clung to him.
you smiled at the water stains on his shirt now, and he claimed it was in need of dry cleaning anyway.
neither of you noticed the eyes of megumi and yuuta, both stuck in place at the very corner of the windows leading to the hallway. they had training staffs with them, megumi’s grip becoming tighter as he watched you wipe your eyes and knock your head into satoru’s chest lazily. your shoulders low, clearly drained from the amount you cried. 
yuuta was frozen, eyes flickering from you to megumi repeatedly. he found his courage in placing a hand on his shoulder, a feather-light grip. “hey, let’s go through the east wing. i’m pretty sure it’s faster that way.”
it wasn’t. but megumi nodded anyway, begrudgingly tearing his gaze from you and turning around with yuuta. 
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you stared down the red light of the intersection with a blank face, blank mind. letting it all out of your system had successfully flushed out your emotions, taking the rest of your energy along with it. the car was painfully quiet, but no part of you wanted to listen to anything.
satoru was whisked away by yaga, being delivered another mission he swore would take less than a day. ‘less than twelve hours’, he promised to be back for megumi’s first day. he would make it.
it was dark, and you milked all the time you could on school grounds. speaking with yaga and shoko, running through the still-developing information of missions to be sent on. cleaning the classrooms. the lockers. stocking the teachers lounge. dusting the armory. before you knew it the curfew ushered the students into their dorms.
a ringtone broke through your thoughts, making you jump. though the tune was soft, the sudden intrusion made it much more shrill. you fumbled with your phone in the passenger seat, seeing megumi’s contact on the screen.
“hello?”
“hey, mom?”
it took everything you had left not to gawk. he said it before, sparingly in desperation for comfort. his voice was quiet, a near-whisper despite the fact he was alone in his dorm. like he was nervous.
“yes, megumi?”
“um… are you home?”
you wondered if he forgot something. “no, i’m still driving. are you okay?”
“i’m fine, i just… can’t sleep, i guess…” he trailed off, hoping for you to fill in the gap.
“oh. okay. did you take–“
“do you think you could pick me up?” he interrupted. “and i just stay home tonight? you could drive me in the morning.”
you were quick to dissolve into a smile, pointed at the streetlamp on the sidewalk. sadness struck your eyes but you were too occupied by the warmth of his question to feel it.
“yeah. i can be back there in a few minutes, just let me turn around.”
“thanks.”
he didn’t hang up. neither did you. the silence lived on for a few seconds.
“mom?”
“yeah?”
“… gojo’s on a mission, right?”
you laughed, your hand sliding across the steering wheel as you reouted back to the school. “yeah, megs, he’ll be gone tonight.”
“he’s back tomorrow?”
“yeah, we can leave before he gets home.”
“thanks.”
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bonus:
satoru tiptoed through the entrance of your home, brushing his blindfold over his hair and peeling it off his head. he hung it up with his keys, lax arms nearly missing the hook on the closet door meant for him. it was beyond late, and he was tired, but he was home like he said he would be.
he bent down to tie his shoes, buffering momentarily as he caught a glance of well-worn sneakers at the front door. they were as clean as they could be, though scuffed rubber turning gray and the laces becoming frayed where they were tightened most.
satoru made a grunt in acknowledgement to no one but himself, as he tossed his shoes down. he glanced around the living space, cautiously bringing himself to each room with a curious itch to scratch. a third pair of shoes. both backpacks on the door. dishes for two placed on the drying rack. 
he was expertly quiet by nature, but found himself avoiding the squeaky floorboards on the stairs and all the way to the hallway. he was greeted with a blue sign, corners covered with dog stickers. the frilly handwriting of tsumiki warding off unwanted visitors with the phrase: “megumi’s room. keep out!!”
the door opened quietly, satoru pushing it open to the limit and stopping before it would let out an ungodly squeak. he insisted on never getting it fixed, knowing it bothered megumi.
megumi had his face shoved in his pillow, a desperate attempt to block out any light creeping through the crack of his bedroom door or the streetlamp just outside the window. he was always a light sleeper, always on edge, sleeping with his back to the wall so if something barged in the night he was ready. it was horrible he thought that way, you always said. 
his duvet covers were black and white plaid, per his request three years ago when he begged to be free of the puppy sheets. still, he seemed small, curled up in a ball. his face was released of the usual tension and his light breathing filled the room. for a moment, he was little again.
satoru smiled, taking a step back and closing the door gently.
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nouvellevqgue · 4 months
Text
ALL COVERED! ✷ ﹙ LANDO NORRIS ﹚
SUMMARY: nobody knows about the relationship between lando and the famous cooking influencer is real, not until george and himself (accidentally) spoil it.
FACE CLAIM: tess maylo
WARNING: curse words, timeline inaccuracies
A/N: happy happy (late) birthday to our little gremlin<333 this was supposed to be like, birthday themed smau but it's more to like a secret relationship trope kinda thing, but waaaayy more complicated than that. hope you guys enjoy it❤️
₊˚⊹౨ৎ ⋆。✦
yourusername
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liked by selenagomez, haileybieber, emmawatson, and 340,187 more
yourusername fresh from the oven! ❤️ see you on my next live with another mysterious guest!
view all 29,561 comments...
username okay we got brie larson and sean evans, i'm waiting for an unexpected guest rn.
username it must be that good selena and hailey are in one like
maxfewtrell 🤫🤫
⤷ username if you really are the guest, then you shouldn't be here and spoiling it
⤷ username landonorris look
⤷ landonorris sorry in advance, he left his brain home.
chloestroll can't wait for next week!
username what is max doing?????????💀💀
⤷ username who's max and lando?
⤷ username f1 driver and his wife
username i want to make it but dang it if i do it i'll probably will burn the house down
emmawatson those cookies are amazing!
username is she the rumored girl with lando?
⤷ username apparently yes
username what kind of cookies is that
⤷ username that button cookies
lilymhe ooh i want it sm🥹😞 alex_albon
⤷ alex_albon why me though?
selenagomez i'm loving the recipe, it came out so gooooodd
username how does she look so amazing when she cooks
username yeah, like i'm probably will get dirty in a minute
yourusername
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liked by calamawy, karengillan, maxverstappen1, and 150,143 more
yourusername record store is my favorite 📼💿
view all 10,781 comments...
username are you moving on from cooking?
⤷ yourusername no, i'm not taking a break from cooking, nor moving on from it. this just me making a new hobby:)
⤷ username you scare me right there
⤷ username can't a girl get a new hobby?
username but i can't lie she looks so pretty
⤷ username ofc she is i mean there's tons of men that waiting in line to be with her
⤷ username look at her live comments. there's even someone proposing to her
username what album are you choosing?
⤷ yourusername in the end it's always been taylor swift😉
⤷ username folklore is the best for cooking fr
username i loooove the jacket it's so cool
logansargeant why didn't you call me?
⤷ yourusername do you wanna shop some records?
⤷ logansargeant yes i do
⤷ yourusername then why didn't you ask?
⤷ username wait they know each other?
⤷ username idk bro i just know
⤷ username bruh same💀
yourusername
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liked by honeymoon, sza, zendaya and 210,319 more
yourusername ta-da! slightly burnt and super sweet fruit cake is ready!! see you next week loves<3
view all 11,700 comments...
yourusername you can see my face at the burnt sight, but it's okay. you just have to bake it on a low heat for 25 minutes (and don't forget it)
⤷ username what makes her forget about her her baking? she never do this before
⤷ username she's texting and smiling then getting out of the frame for idk how many minutes i logged off
⤷ username i think that's that
⤷ username WITH WHO
carlossainz55 it should be 25, you did it for 34
⤷ yourusername 😐😬 sorry...
username but see her face; she still smiling while her cake is quite a disaster
username hm wondering who's with her to make her to be all smiley and forgoting abt her cake like this
⤷ username idk but i'm thinking of that logan guy
⤷ username who is he?
⤷ username a driver? he looks american
⤷ username he is💀
⤷ username nah but i'm thinking lando
⤷ username and who is he again?
⤷ username again, an f1 driver
⤷ username HER TASTE IS A DRIVER?????
⤷ username pretty girl love man in car<3
yourusername
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yourusername 2 b-day 4 u
view all 5 comments...
username happy birthday!!
username idk but her fit is always be so good
username spill the recipe bestie
username whose birthday is that?
⤷ yourusername my bf<3
comments has been limited
yourusername
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liked by ellefanning, lailahasanovic, isahernaez, and 612,948 more
yourusername winter baking❄️ see you next timeeee
view all 10,501 comments...
username she's so cute
username thank god she remembered her cookies
username does she have tiktok or something else other than instagram?
⤷ username she has discord and twitter
georgerussell63 where's lando
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oscarpiastri fuck
maxfewtrell new guess who's back now
⤷ username MAX NO😭😭😭
username george what the hell
⤷ username wait
⤷ username OH SHIT WHAt the
username they'll be like "george when i catch you george, when i catch you george, when i catch you-"
⤷ username i know he's screwed
⤷ sabrinacarpenter omg
⤷ carlossainz55 georgerussell63 i wish you the best for now
ˑ⭒ʚ ִtwitter ݁.٭
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ˑ⭒ʚ ִinstagram ݁.٭
landonorris
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liked by mclaren, carlossainz55, alex_albon, and 23,400 more
landonorris rodeo-ing
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oscarpiastri mate it's not on your private
oscarpiastri hello??
carlossainz55 the hell is the caption
carlossainz55 oh shit we are in trouble
georgerussell63 fuck fuck we are fucked
mclaren oops
username i didn't expect this but i'm not surprised
charles_leclerc he's drunk
lilymhe yourusername yourusername
maxverstappen1 oh crap
username OH WHAT THE FUUUCKKK
username it's not y/n her hair's different
⤷ username girl wym it's obviously y/n
username it's him being drunk or is he just hard launching
username LANDO???? Y/N????? WAIT HOLD ON WAIT A MINUTE
username oh so it's him who makes her forgot about her baking
⤷ carlossainz55 sorry in advance, he left his brain home
this post has been deleted
landonorris added to their story!
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ˑ⭒ʚ ִtwitter ݁.٭
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yourusername added to their story!
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caption: gala tonight💌
ˑ⭒ʚ ִtwitter ݁.٭
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f1updates
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liked by maxverstappen1, username, and 32,590 more
f1updates mclaren driver, lando norris is seen sharing a sweet kiss in the middle of busy brooklyn street with a cooking influencer, y/n l/n. many sources said that they've dated since a couple months ago, with this is their private date in y/n's house in brooklyn.
click the link in our bio to read more of our stories!
view all 1,802 comments...
username i mean with lando's ACCIDENTAL story and post and he do it TWICE LIKE GIRL PLS JUST POST HER FACE ALREADY
⤷ username yeah like bfr
username bro what??? PRIVATE DATE?? but if it's private how do yall get the pics?
username there's a lot of hidden paps around
username the tea's so good max is already liking this
⤷ username max is us tho
username HELP Y/N IS NOT LIVESTREAMING TOO💀💀💀
⤷ username what the hell is it really???
username just respect their privacy pls
yourusername added to their story!
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caption: our last bake for the season! see you soon next season
yourusername and landonorris
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liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris, mclaren, and 1,285,610 more
yourusername it's all covered until it's not. i love you so much my lovely<333
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kaladinkholins · 3 months
Text
uhhh thinkin about how mizu and taigen's relationship was described as "this meeting of the minds, this meeting of the swords, that they could not share with anybody else" in one of the netflix articles about the show
and i'm going crazy because YEAH they're both equally invested about swords and fighting in a way that nobody else in their lives are. and that's just. so important considering we're talking about mizu, who sees her sword as her own soul.
and it's not JUST mizu who's obsessed with fighting. taigen is too. cuz like after their duel at the shindo dojo, as taigen is examining his bald spot in the mirror where mizu cut off his hair, he literally interrupts his own turmoil over losing his honour, just to express his awe, openly admiring mizu's skill DESPITE the fact that mizu just beat his ass and stripped his honour and status from him
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then in the next episode, mizu says a very similar line when she examines the cut flower that fowler had pinned to heiji shindo's robe.
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this was also such a sudden thing to notice in the middle of their conversation (my interpretation of this is that it hints to fowler's own skills with a blade, and gives mizu information about her enemy being a formidable opponent), but the fact that mizu had such a keen eye and managed to hone in on such a tiny detail from like a foot or two away is interesting because it shows us just how attentive mizu is, especially when it comes to blades and anything to do with them
to mizu (when she's not spiralling and agonising over her own self-hatred and the way the world treats her), swords are not a mere tool for revenge, but an art form which she is fascinated by and loves and admires. we see this from time to time, during rare moments of respite, like when she admires the duel in the beginning of ep4
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mizu also takes to heart all the teachings from her years training, while taigen is interestingly less strict about them, basically disregarding some of those teachings as mere pedantry, or even if he doesn't actually really think so, he at least tells mizu as much in his attempt to comfort her after her sword breaks
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but that doesn't mean he doesn't care for the more formal aspects of his training at all. because in ep3 when he says this
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this line about mount sumeru is not talking about the literal mountain in front of them, but is a recitation of a line from the lotus sutra, which is among the mahayana sutras that they learned as part of their spiritual training, as zen buddhism forms a lot of the basis for samurai doctrines and philosophy. the sutra given more emphasis in the show is the heart sutra that mizu writes on her body in ep7 during her rite of rebirth
so taigen saying this line, as i see it, is a way to bond with mizu, or at least make conversation over their shared knowledge, as we see him await a reaction as soon as he says this. but mizu gives him none, and he looks disappointed/annoyed/frustrated or what have you as he watches her walk off without a word
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also we see a little more of their shared knowledge of swordsmanship in the last episode when it's clear that mizu has been training ringo in sword fighting techniques
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and later taigen recognises it instantly
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they're both nerds about swords and fighting!!! they both respect each other's skills!!!
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GOD i really hope in future episodes they get to bond some more over their shared passion and common training and just samurai camaraderie in general!!! mizu clearly loves the artistry of sword fighting so much, she deserves to have a confidant who shares that with her, someone she can talk openly about these things to!!!
because like remember when mikio was telling her about the naginata, she looked soooo uwu in love!!! admiring her husband as he showed off the weapon and told her the benefits of using it!!! believing at the time that she'd found a match who she could openly share her love of martial arts with!! she was having so much fun sparring him too. everyone says fighting is part of her love language and YES it IS!!!
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except the difference is that mikio—due to, among other things, their large age difference and subsequent gap in life experience—believes he is mizu's teacher, rather than her equal. this is the role he's readily taken throughout their marriage, from teaching her how to throw a knife to cut down fruit (not like she needed that particular lesson), to teaching her equestrian skills.
meanwhile taigen and mizu were both kids growing up poor in the same backwater fishing village, which means that they are and always have been PEERS. and this becomes even more pronounced once taigen is stripped of his giant ego and unlearns his prejudice, allowing them both to fully respect each other and view each other as equals
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which is again why it frustrates taigen when mizu admits later in this scene that she basically doesn't care about saving the shogun. like he gets mad because it upends his initial belief in their shared goals and aligned values, believing them both to be samurai of equal standing and honour.
ALSO i'd like to add, that though mizu is the better swordsman as we see her win all their brawls and matches, she doesn't surpass him by that much, and mizu knows this.
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these words coming from mizu is such a huge compliment all things considered, acknowledging that he was strong enough to deserve fighting her, because shortly before this mizu was just about to say "no one has given me much of a challenge" only for taigen to enter the scene and, well, challenge her.
now combine this with her saying that chiaki's broken blade suits him well, giving to him HER sword which SHE made AND won, as a surety, promising him a duel that he "deserves". it's proof that even though she finds taigen an annoying brat and oftentimes an obstacle to her mission for revenge, she DOES respect him and does value his skills.
IN CONCLUSION nobody else is on their level, nobody else shares their love of swordsmanship and that is such an important factor to their bond and the way they relate to each other. i rest my case your honour
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Note
Hii, could you please do a Percy x daughter of Hecate headcannons pls?
⋆⭒˚.⋆ percy jackson x daughter of hecate! reader hcs
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content: percy jackson x daughter of hecate! reader hcs warning: language but like...one or two???? author's note: i tried v hard with this one. idk why it took me so long anon. tbh, i was scared bc i don't really know a lot about hecate so then i had to do some homework and even after that it still feels v cliche but whatever. i like parts of it and i hope YOU like parts of it too.
"wanna see a magic trick?"
was the first thing percy said to you, a wide cheeky smile on his lips as he desperately tried to hold his laugh in
you were a little stunned at his sudden appearance but then his terrible, terrible joke had you fighting off laughs of your own
"i think that's more my expertise, don't you?"
que the both of you cracking up
that's the beginning of the end fr
percy buys you a crystal every time he goes somewhere
every. single. time.
even if he's going somewhere crystals should not be, he will go thirty minutes out of his way to get you a crystal
then, when he proposes, on his knee and holding out the little box, propped open, he's like:
"out of all the crystals i've given you, i think this one's my favorite."
BRO WTF WTF WTF WHY AM I CRYING IM IN CONTROL HERE??????
moving on
(it's your favorite too)
MOVING
ON
you and hazel??? besties
she gives you crystals and gems and whatnot and you give her tarot card readings and sage for the hade's cabin
also, percy starts wearing those crystal bead bracelets, a purple one to remind him of his pretty witch wherever he goes
you wear a shell bracelet for a similar reason
if either of these broke, let's just hope nobody is within a three mile radius of them or those people will have a serious condition of death
also, sally jackson is you're #1 fan, even if she's a little confused.
once for christmas, she gifted you a stack of playing cards, which you took without question
she explained that percy mentioned something about you and cards and she figured it was a sweet gesture to get you some new ones
you didn't have the heart to break it to her, proudly taking the pack of playing cards
then you asked for a reading and you had to bullshit the whole thing, sweating the whole time
"Oh, ummm ace of spades. usually a sign of, uh, good ventures coming your way!"
"ooOO, very cool!"
percy had to hid in the bathroom he was laughing so hard
she also texts you all the time, blurry photos of rocks and gems, asking if these would be good for protection or love or whatever sally was after at the moment
the windowsill in the jackson apartment is filled with a variety of rocks, each with their own protection over the apartment
you came over one day, no percy, and just did it with sally, explaining every crystal and bundle of herbs as you went
sally always smiles when she sees it
percy does too.
also, percy def calls you a multitude of witch themed nicknames
bro fr comes up with a new one at least once a day
creative ass mfer
also, you shyly gave him a card reading, once and the amount of times you ran into the lover card left you a blushing mess
percy couldn't stop laughing every time you flushed a vibrant red, not evening needing you to tell him which card it was as he could tell from your face.
but, you always list off all the facts of the cards, musing on and on about percy's future love life or his future job
and he tunes you out, just staring bc he doesn't need to know
as long as he's with his magic girl, he doesn't really care what happens
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