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#lovesick cross
isame-allen · 4 months
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Why not I was bored in class
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JR cook belongs to @mrpotguy
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mrpotguy · 5 months
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love sick cross fanart <3
love sick cross by @isame-allen
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kellowyellow · 4 months
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Art by @isame-allen
Edit by me :D
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sweetest-devotion · 2 years
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Star-crossed Lovers in Venice.
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when he lets me infodump and doesn’t interrupt, actually listens and is interested >>>
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fantasticfiaskos · 7 months
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31 so-called hours: 
0: wedding toasts, dance battles, shirtless serenades, I’m clearly not ready to trip. Star-crossed.  A sister. I remember nothing. 
1: handshakes and hugs, rosé and rooftops, smiles and sunglasses.  
2: discovering the secret life of snails, aliens and all the laughter souls share over inconsequence
3: the first and only real goodbye because every other one since has only been “until next time”. She exits to the sound of book clubs and scheduling and loose promises 
4: she sleeps. I wait. 
5: more sleeping 
6: butterflies; the nervous ones, the guilty ones. the guilty ones because they are actually nervous ones for something that is so off limits. And then there she is. Sleepy eyed, and bright. A strawberry sun on a grey afternoon. 
7: misty, mossy, casually serious. Gravel, grass, cobblestones and brooks. The music of water. The overcast skies keep their secret of rain, for now. Asian architecture melds with nature’s kiss. Is that ginseng? 
8: Devin. Hes not the kindest guy and he has poor diner etiquette. Definitely not the guy to sit on the same side of a booth as you. 
9: a family of bananatrees. It’s complicated. It hurts sometimes. It’s home. 
10: quiet corners, benches and bamboo. Conversation flows quicker than streams or thought. The heavens start to whisper their secrets. Are humans good? Why do we hurt ourselves? Why don’t we love more? The world tests her. It all feels so far away. But not her, she’s here. She sees me. My soul stirs. I see her. It spills from my tongue unconcerned with the head and my lips catch the words just before the air carries them off. I edit. It’s off-limits after all. “I think that’s what I like so much about you” I say a bit sheepishly amidst the realization of what was on its way. Words disappear as quickly as they came. Eyes lost not in eyes but their beyond. I feel she feels it too. She isn’t sure what it is. She isn’t thinking about it. Laughter swallows us and we are back in the garden. 
11: closing time was an hour ago. My shoes are untied. Weird. We are kicked out. She doesn’t love skiing. 
12: Thai food. Firelight. Blankets and a booth. She orders a salad. She won’t let me pay. We talk books and she gets an idea.
13: 20 questions!! 
14: I don’t know if I’ve ever felt this way. She is present. Radiant. Effervescently curious. Where did she come from? She asks, “What scares me? What does winning mean to me?” I tell her… it all feels similar to naked but also just as honest. I have no interest in editing for her. It’s important that she knows the full truth somehow. Every answer. Her point of view is beautiful. 
15: a bar, a very cheery bartender. Radlers and rain on tin roofs. She is poetry in motion. Effortlessly butterflying between the social nuances of connecting one on one, charming the bartender and taking in a public space. I feel so lucky that she chose me to connect with. I wonder if she is like this with everyone. I doubt it. I wonder if Devin knows how lucky he is. Somehow I doubt it… she runs out of questions. But has 2 to go to 20. We laugh it off as something to take up next time. We hug. She has friends and work awaiting her. I’m changed, maybe forever. 
16: BEST. DAY. EVER. I sleep. I can’t. I write. I wonder… 
17: gardens again. Mountaintop ones. Gift shops and grottos. We ride the elevator up. It’s interview time. My turn. She likes Tim Burton. She wears white hoodies and textured magenta tights. I love colors. Could she be more stunning in her frump? She’s into soccer. I bet she’d beat me. Water splashes against the windows as we meditate out across to Washington. Silence and curiosity. The sun sets, it’s no Amazonian, rain forested dawn but it’ll do she says with a twinkle.
18: we walk amongst the flowers. The religious undertones can’t hide the divinity here. She’s different. Heavier. Something weighs on her. She’s still there, just buried under some worry. I have to dig a bit. We walk the labyrinth. It’s a twisting metaphor for life. We pass each other 15 times as we bob and weave and joke about sour patch kids and the Beatles. She reminds me of a babe. I remind myself to stop taking girls here when they are soul-searching. We reach the center. I turn. I wait. I love her music taste. I watch as she comes to me. I think of kissing her. I take that thought, bubble wrap it up, return it to sender and meet her approach with a smile instead. 
19: we sit on a bench. We watch the grass grow misty in the afternoon haze. Today is not about me I realize. Two souls not ready to look at each other but oh so content to be near each other. She’s grieving. It’s for a life she hasn’t lived. It’s unfair she says, the loss of yet another dream. She knows it’s over in her heart. Back to the drawing board. She hates starting over. She must. She knows. I watch. I want to hold her. Comfort her, but know it’s not my place. Her soul is a museum today, look but don’t touch. We are kicked out again. We have a habit of disagreeing with the passage of time. 
20: she’s a vegetarian. She knows a spot. I get the veggie burger after stopping for a bottle of wine on the way. Her favorite is sauv blanc. It’s “Just in case” I tell myself knowing all the same that this is the end for today… craft Cocktails and neither of us finish our food. We say it’s because we’re full. It feels like we are winding down. I check my feet and they’re crossed. I’m tripping. She’s leaving in a week. Driving back with her parents. We make loose plans to meet up before she goes.
20: We don’t. 
21: Weeks pass. Months float by. Plans for a Norwegian reunion waylaid by the fiercest foe in the year of 2022. COVID lays my eager heart to rest, even while it dozes unaware on a lazy afternoon of a year of my life. Years drift on. Unremarkable, dormant really. 
22: Lightning on a summer’s day. 
“I MISS YOU 
I MISS YOU
I MISS YOU”
Lights up my digital display. Out of left field like Haley’s comet making her triumphant return, she flirts with my atmosphere. We agree that it’s been too long and we owe our hearts the pleasure of each other’s company. 
23: There she is! Has it really been 2 years? It feels like weeks and decades simultaneously. We test the room. Looking and not looking at each other. Is that thing between us still there? It is. A knowingness filters our mood. We walk. We talk. She’s smaller than I remember, frailer perhaps. She talks of her failing body. Health eludes her. She feels empty. A cup already drank that is still being sipped from in absent-minded thirst. She’s too kind to repackage herself for those nearest her. But that essence is still there. This time it’s more on the surface. It’s the depth she cannot find. Old laughter finds new homes in quick lines and quicker looks. Her sun kisses look just as I remember. Radiant. I’m sad for her. I want her to feel full. She says she has trouble eating. She talks of choosing and choice. Why not me she asks more of the universe than anyone at our bartop for two. 
24: I tell her of my mother. The slow heartbreak of losing something you always thought you’d have. The slower deeper heartbreak of realizing it may have never been there in the first place. She seems to understand more than the words. Unbridled honesty again flows from me. Why is it so important that she know? I’m always open, but not like this. I wonder if she’s a wizard. The thought makes me giggle out loud. She likes corn. She drinks pink prickled pear. How does she see through me?! I feel like I couldn’t hide if I tried. I don’t want to. I tell her that my memory of my mother fades nearly as quickly as my mother does. “Who was she actually?” she asks. “I’m trying to figure it out”, I answer. She cares. I can tell. She’ll be brilliant at this kid thing I find myself thinking. 
25: she talks of Daniel. I speak of Mari. Both disappointments in life. Both not where we wanted to be. We grab beers and she listens. I tell her of my heartbreak, of how it shaped me. I can tell heartbreak has shaped her too. She gets it. But unlike me, there is still love there. Daniel still holds a promise. She does not share my luxury of unencumberedness. Time warps around this beer and this moment. Seeing each other across a galaxy, a life, a beer, a small picnic table. Unclear if it was our connection, the weed or the spiked, spicy, dirty hot chocolate weaving it’s spell, but whatever it was, this felt real. More than most moments. All of a sudden the boys come. They grab beers and she joins in without missing a beat. There’s that sun of a butterfly I saw before. Again time has disappeared. 
26: she asks if I want to come to dinner. We are late. She doesn’t want this to end I feel. Neither do I. We challenge each other in a stein-less stein off. She smokes me. I’m rethinking my frailty thoughts from earlier. She emanates this inner strength born out of proud determination. Life cannot beat her down. She has decided to be happy one day I sense. Dinner is homey. It’s family. It’s warm. They seem surprised to see me. It’s a roast. I spend the evening chatting with relatives. It’s cozy. I meet in and out of towners. Glow sticks. Dance parties. Chaos. The air is thick with the sweet recklessness of children. Its loud. It’s life. It feels natural. I hardly see her all evening. I don’t mind. When eyelids grow heavy we take our leave. She seems excited that I fit in. I imagine that she liked that I could float in the sea of bananatrees. I play songs on the drive. She ponders. 
27: I’m home. I get out. I’m unaware. I tell her that if she’s ever single, I’d love to ask her out. I leave. I’m an idiot. How could I not see it before? 
28: LIGHTNING STRIKES TWICE! Sweaty, steamy, sauna induced brother in law. A bond forged betwixt him and I in Bjørn Borgs. She comes up in conversation. I tell him how I feel about her and a light comes on deep in the mist-tinged air of my mind. How is this sunrise of a realization only now dawning on me? I knew back in portland, I knew yesterday over beers. I know now. She’s my undone shoelace. She’s my crossed feet. She’s my falling. I need to tell her. She’s down for one last hang before I leave again. 
29: why am I nervous? I carry extra trips of liquor to delay the hello. I’m so silly I think. There she is in all her present-ness. I eat ribs and chicken wings. These are not her favorite things I think I read in her. A mother, though neither of ours, asks how the wedding was. “Wasn’t I supposed to find love? How’s that going?” Oh, better than either of us could have imagined I smile to myself. I look for an excuse to cuddle her, caress her. It’s nice having her so close. I don’t want her to feel uncomfortable but damn is it electric gently pushing her leg over to the other side of the couch. This all feels so adolescent. It’s so fun. But I can’t, I remind myself. She’s still holding hope and hands with a future that won’t look her in the eye. 
30: we definitely walk the talk. An hour and a half later we find ourselves across town. That whispered secret of the sky yet again unsealing it’s lips in song. We look for cover but our best bet is just heading home. It’s a long way back. It’s wet. Our feet keep us moving, but time does it’s utmost to arrest us. We debate souls. Light speed. Fate. What we’re doing here. She wants answers but knows she won’t find any. I tell her my thoughts. She disagrees. But wants to know more. She is talking, more than usual, I wonder if she’s nervous too. Or perhaps she’s just more awake this time. I wonder if she’s also sad I’m leaving. Probably wishful thinking I tell myself. I realize I’m delaying. Avoiding what I really want to tell her. I could talk to her for eons. I want to.
31: we make it home, damp and eager for the shelter. She drives. I think. I feel. She scares me. She asks me “well, what else do we want to say to each other?”. I tell her of my fear. I’m scared of how deep these feelings could go. I know she’s unavailable but I can’t explain it. I know she’s my next. It feels too right. I think she feels it too. She just can’t say it. I comfort myself with the thought that her silence is cuz she won’t admit it to herself. Maybe that’s my pride. Maybe I’m just hoping her heart walked the same labyrinth mine did and she’s actually too nice to say otherwise. It’s these little doubts that make love so eternal. So worth pursuing. My heart feels full. Like really full. I’m loving this. We say goodbye and I tell her I’d like to choose her. She asks if I’d like to leave it on eye contact or a hug. I love her questions. Eye contact wins the eternal struggle between those two heavyweights. I don’t want to stop looking at her. She is sublime, as always. She tells me tears are imminent. I apologize. I tell her home is where the heart is. I only want to be where my heart is. To lay, playful in sheets, forever. I leave her slowly. I wait in the doorway as she starts to drive. I consider running out again. I want to kiss her, to say a real goodbye. It feels like I won’t see her for years although she reassures me it won’t be. Some part of me doubts her. I decide it’s not the time, but it’s unclear if it ever will be.  I’m now 0/2. 
32 and counting: she turns 31 this month. She feels like time is moving so fast and yet there is so much left to go. She feels fear, but more than that, she feels sadness. This wasn’t what she saw for herself. She chose it after all. Why can’t she be chosen back? All she’s looking for is a man who doesn’t break out in hives when he hears the word commitment. I want to fill her with all the capacity she knows she has in her heart. If I know what I want, do I push for it? Or let it come to me!? I never know in love. I often let things flow their course in life but could this be my event horizon? The light of her strawberry sun eclipsing the pull of my life’s gravity? I’m up to bat. The count is 0/2. The pitch is a curveball. I don’t know if it’s my time to swing.  
This is nothing like Hayley’s comet I realize. There is nothing familiar about this type of falling. If we orbit each other at all, it is lightyears between lifetimes and lightyears again. She is new. She is next. Choice feels like too conscious a word. She is inevitable. It all makes too much sense not to be. And yet here she is, in the most impossible of positions. She doesn’t even know if she likes me like that. She can’t open or even look at that box now. And yet I send her poetry and foul out to left field in hopes of recreating some of the magic we found in her front seat. I can’t, I know. She has to decide this on her own. She hates disappointments. She hates starting over. Deep down she hates not being chosen even more. I want to choose her. But she isn’t ready. I write a poem, I write two. I decide to let her go. All I want to do is call her. That feels like asking a cat to stay in your lap all day. She will come snuggle when she wants to. Nothing worth having ever comes easy. I wish her the best. I want to see her tomorrow but know it may be years. 
33: I already can’t wait for 33. 
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winepresswrath · 2 years
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please tell me there is going to be fic set in the universe where Rhaenyra hits up Alicent instead of Crispin for a backup fuck.
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yueebby · 7 months
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Dying thinking about gojo literally pinning and hardcore simping for reader, literally showering reader in praise, flattery and gifts because he no longer gives a damn about hiding his feelings, almost proposing to reader whenever he can and reader's just... completely clueless about it💀 and she thinks it's just gojo being friendly. Poor man would be absolutely devastated when he goes one day "[name] i'm in love with you" and she just goes "me too, i love all my friends!" 💀
she loves me, she loves me not! — gojo satoru x fem!reader
contents. fluff, lovesick!gojo (what’s new), highschool!gojo, he’s pathetic but in love your honor, oblivious!reader, ooc gojo i got carried away soz
notes. anon, when i first read your ask i literally started giggling and kicking my feet. that. is. so. gojo coded.
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“please reject gojo and put him out of his misery,” utahime implored, taking hold of both of your hands. you think she’s asking, no, begging you to. beside her, shoko nods vigorously. 
“but why?” you furrow your eyebrows, perplexed by their sudden request. “i can’t reject someone who doesn’t like me.”
shoko giggles at your comment. her laughter only wanes when she notices the dead serious look on your face. “... you seriously have no idea what we’re talking about?”
“not really,” you shrug, criss-crossing your legs to find some comfort on the hard wooden floor in shoko’s small dorm. it was late, past midnight, and the three of you had a shared mission tomorrow, but for some reason your two friends managed to rope you into their drinking circle.
utahime and shoko exchanged a significant glance, their unspoken communication raising your curiosity. utahime takes a long sip of her beer. 
“hopeless. they’re both hopeless,” your short haired brunette friend lamented, pinching her nose bridge. it leaves a faint pink mark.
intrigued, you lean in closer towards the two, “care to elaborate?”
“you’ve never once questioned satoru’s borderline inappropriate behavior?” shoko asks you earnestly. you ponder for a moment, trying to recall any moments in the two years you’ve known the snow-haired boy.
“satoru is satoru…” you mumble, shaking your head in denial. 
utahime’s eyes bug comically. she slams her can of beer harshly on the ground. you wince at the loud noise of the metallic can hitting the floor.
“you’re kidding. even i can see through that jerk!” utahime’s black pigtails sway wildly. 
“[name], how about what happened in shinjuku last week on our day off?” shoko quietly reminds you of last weekend when the two of you along with satoru and suguru decided to empty your pockets in one of tokyo’s largest entertainment wards. 
utahime’s head whips back and forth from her best friend to you, “eh? what happened?!”
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from behind the dressing room curtain, you voiced your concerns, “shoko, i don't think we can afford designer clothes on our student budget.” the cream-colored silk dress you wore clung to your body, its price tag undoubtedly surpassing a year's worth of your student earnings.
“don’t worry your pretty little head about it,” shoko’s voice carried a knowing smile. “just come out and show me the dress!” you think satoru’s carefree attitude is rubbing off on her.
with a nervous sigh, you emerged from the dressing room. the dress fit like a glove, accentuating your body in just the right places.
bright flashes from shoko's phone startled you, and she chuckled deviously while rapidly typing. she tossed her phone onto a luxurious cushion, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of exposure.
“you look so sexy. even better than the model.” she gives you two thumbs up, eyes roaming your figure. you feel flushed at her praise.
“as flattered as i am, there’s no way i can afford this,” you look down at the dress, lips downturned. “i’d be in debt for life.”
“no need to worry,” shoko winked, leaving you confused. given that her income was similar to yours, it didn't make sense for her to be able to even dream of shopping designer.
a soft thud interrupted your conversation. you turn around to see a blue lollipop rolling on the expensive carpeting of the store.
“suguru, are my eyes deceiving me or is that an angel?”  satoru's mouth is wide open as he shamelessly checks you out. he takes one of his hands and places it over his heart, gripping the fabric of his white shirt. the windbreaker he is wearing rustles at his dramatic movement.
“i think… i’m experiencing a heart attack! shoko help!” he kneels in the middle of the store dramatically. shoko shares an unamused look with suguru. the pair nod before simultaneously kicking satoru.
during all of the commotion, you stand awkwardly in the million yen dress. 
“satoru, are you okay?” you watch him take the two blows from your friends, concern evident in your voice. he grunts softly before gently taking ahold of your hand.
“no,” he croaks with a playful glint in his eye. “i’m wounded and there’s only one way to fix it.”
you look at him, your gaze heavy with concern.
“i’m afraid you’ll have to kiss me for the pain to go away.” he added, blinking at you expectantly with his blue eyes.
 you lightly shove him away from you. “you’re an idiot.” satoru laughs loudly.
“that’s what love does to a man.”
“yeah, yeah. i’m going to change out of this dress, don’t get into any more trouble while i’m gone.” 
 satoru’s grip on your hand strengthens, halting your actions.
“how much?”
“excuse me?”
“the dress. how much for it?” he stands up to his full height, reminding you of the obvious height difference between the two of you. 
you're at loss for words. gojo was crazy, but definitely not crazy enough to spend a million yen on a silly dress.
shoko happily chimes into the conversation. “one million yen. it’ll be two million yen with the rest of my purchases though!” 
suguru’s calm demeanor is replaced with shock. the black haired male’s jaw drops, “two million– satoru, you’re seriously not thinking about–”
“hah? who said i’m paying for your stuff?” gojo makes an ugly face at shoko.
she raises her hands innocently, “it’s not my fault the dresses come in a set. if you want to see your beloved [name] in that dress you’ll have to pay for mine as well.”
you watch shoko and satoru engage into a silent argument. the tension in the fitting room section is so thick, you think it’ll take a special grade weapon to slice through it.
trying to alleviate the mood you tell gojo, “satoru, you really don’t have to–”
“i’m buying you that dress.” 
“o-okay.” 
half an hour later, satoru happily strolls out of the store with an arm around your shoulder like he’d just won the lottery.
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perhaps gojo is just naturally flirty, you had tried to reason to shoko and utahime.
it’s been a week since the eye-opening conversation with the two and you’ve found yourself on cleaning duty with said snow-haired boy. it was a miracle that satoru even showed up. he had a tendency to skip his turns, often resulting in a long lecture from yaga.
as the two of you worked silently in the empty classroom, you couldn't help but admire the setting sun. its golden rays painted the sky with hues of pink and orange, casting a warm glow over everything. unknowingly, while you gazed at the sky, gojo's gaze was firmly fixed on you.
breaking the silence, he asked, "have you ever thought about getting married?"
his question caught you off guard, causing you to momentarily pause from wiping the windows.
“not really,” you replied, biting your lip gently. “unless my family decides to arrange a marriage. you know how unforgiving the world of jujutsu sorcery is.”
gojo's grip on the broom tightened, his eyes locking onto yours with a newfound intensity.
"we should get married y'know," he blurted out.
the piece of cloth you were using slipped from your hand in shock. surely, he couldn't mean what he was saying. after all, the two of you were only second years.
“what?”
“i’m saying i think i’m in love with you.”
“oh.” 
silence engulfs the room once more before a soft giggle escapes your lips.
satoru can only watch, entranced.
“that’s good to hear! i love you too– and suguru and shoko! perhaps the four of us should all just get married.” you chuckle into your hand.
satoru can't help but stare at your hand in envy. perhaps if he were the palm of your hand, he’d be able to feel the touch of your lips.
but he couldn’t. he was cursed as a man with an overpowered innate technique, and despite it all he couldn’t even gain the one thing he desired. gojo satoru watched you, eyes filled with a mixture of longing and defeat.
his devastation does not go unnoticed by you.
you were under the impression that he was grumpy because yaga had forced him into cleaning with you.
"cheer up, satoru! if we finish early enough," you continue, your tone highspirited, "we can go to the new crepe shop that opened last week. my treat!" you winked, and that immediately caught his attention.
“like a date?” his eyes sparkled with hope.
you shrug, a smile on your face. “i suppose if you look at it from a certain perspective…”
“great, it’s a date!” 
good things come to those who wait, satoru thinks, humming happily as he starts to sweep the room at an inhumane pace.
maybe in ten years time the two of you will be happily married with eight kids, he smiles to himself.
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chuluoyi · 6 months
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✎ forever
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- gojo satoru x reader
the three times he asked you to marry him
genre: slightly suggestive, fluff/comfort, silly and lovesick gojo, wedding proposals, mild angst, mentions of injury and protective gojo
note: i was inspired by some fics with this kind of trope and i can totally see gojo asking you to marry him while he's dead drunk—
a part of gojo's love entries
series masterlist | oneshot masterlist
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"Why don't we get married?"
The first time Satoru brought this up was right after you both had exhausted yourselves in an intense, passionate lovemaking session.
His bare skin was against yours, and the intimacy of it almost made you want to go along with his suggestion, until you grasped the profound meaning behind his words.
"Satoru," you breathed out, still breathless as you came down from your high. "Are you seriously asking me that now?"
A dopey smile was on his face. "Yeah, is there a problem with it?"
You blinked. The nerve of this clown-head—
"Not even a proper proposal? Or a ring?" you scowled. "Considering your usual flair, this is a rather lackluster attempt at a proposal."
Of course, you weren't a material girl, but considering his big ego and tendency to go overboard, you just had to call him out.
"Hmm? So if there's a grand proposal and I bought you a ring, then you'll say yes?"
There was practically a twinkle in those bright eyes of his now, and you were a bit caught off guard because well, so he is for real?
You’d be lying if you said that the thought of marrying him hadn’t crossed your mind. But to be frank, Gojo Satoru didn't strike you as someone who was interested in anything as cliché as marriage and everything that comes with it.
Which brought you back to this point—you had absolutely no idea what possessed him to bring up this question.
"Hah," you let out a sardonic laugh. "Not that easy. I'll think about it."
When he let out a “Ehhh?”, and started sulking, you were quite sure, and dismissed the question as one of his passing whims.
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The second time he posed the question, he was a babbling, slurring mess of alcohol and hiccups.
"Can't we—hic!—" His face was flushed, and he was pitifully wobbling on his feet. "—just get married—hic!—already?"
This time you scoffed, partly out of disdain, crossing your arms in front of you. Satoru seemed to pick up on your unfavorable reaction and attempted to convince you. "I'm being—"
"No," you sternly interrupted, supporting him as he struggled to stay on his feet. You shot an unapologetic look at the other patrons in the bar who were watching you both with disapproving frowns. "Satoru, we're going home."
"I'm—hic!—asking you to marry me!"
"I said no."
"Why?!"
You sighed. "You're dead drunk."
"What will—hic—make you say yes?"
You let out another sigh. It already took a great deal of patience to deal with his immaturity as his girlfriend, and you could only imagine how much more challenging it would be as his wife.
"I'm so heartbroken," he whined, crocodile tears pooling in his eyes as he peered at you like a kicked puppy. "I got rejected twice already... How could you reject me twice?"
You rolled your eyes at his theatrics.
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"Marry me."
The third time around, he was neither bringing it up on a whim or drunk, also he wasn't quite asking—his tone was almost pleading.
And you just woke up from your comatose state after a mission gone wrong, still in your bloodied uniform, eyes barely adjusting to the bright room.
Satoru let out a grunt, clasping your fingers in his warm, reassuring grip. It was evident how deeply distressed he was from the furrowed brow and the quiver in his lips as he looked down at you, as well as the gentle way he was stroking your hair.
At this moment, you wanted to cry. The fact that he was so genuinely concerned for you filled you with warmth and emotion.
. . .
He saw it happen right before him—the crimson blood flowing out of your wound like waterfall. He had screamed at you to breathe and not let go of his hand. The moment he felt your head loll back in his arms and you lost your grip on him, he could swear his own heart had stopped too.
He had never been more grateful that you—his best friend, love of his life, the only one he had left—awoke from that horrifying ordeal. Seeing you stained red by your own blood had undoubtedly distorted his point of view, but his desire to marry you, as what he had been suggesting as of late, clearly was not just a mere passing thought.
Because he is acutely aware of how cruel this world is. This damned world has always taken everything that's important to him, and before they can snatch you away too, he will claim you as his first.
"Marry me," he repeated, his voice now sounding more hoarse, not as confident as it had been the first time.
As you gazed into his beautiful eyes, it occurred to your hazy mind that you very nearly died. That you were that close to not seeing him ever again. You had been apprehensive with how he had phrased his proposals so far, and you didn't want your marriage to be a split-second decision forced by some sort of looming omen.
And yet, falling in love with Gojo Satoru had never been the easiest, but you did anyway. He still held onto your hand, patiently awaiting your response—
—but suddenly, like a sharp whiplash effect, what shocked you was that who you saw then wasn't your boyfriend.
But rather, the man with the mantle of the strongest sorcerer alive.
You could lose him just as much as he could lose you. Sooner or later, who knows? His title is both a blessing and a curse. Up until now, it has been a blessing, but who can say when it might suddenly turn into a curse that tears him away from you?
. . .
This time, you didn't snort or doubt his intention. Instead, you smiled, embracing the profound flutter in your chest as you were being proposed.
"Okay," you whispered, voice dry. "Yes… I'll marry you, Satoru."
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planetsano · 8 months
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you know, i feel like choso is the friendly jock who’s really nice to the weird kids and v sweet to you, the shy girl. he eventually makes you his girlfriend officially after some time. but there was definitely a casual hook up phase that lasted for about a month between you two— a little over a month maybe.
you were a virgin when you met him but obviously that changed over time. it’s a little funny because you actually made the first move oddly enough. he held your cheek one night and— you snuggled your face into his palm, enjoying how warm he felt. every time he touched you it felt like a hug, you relished in it a bit with his eyes on you and a small smile on his face. but you completely took him by surprise when you took his hand and sucked on his pointer finger, looking up at him through your lashes.
you were shy but the kind of cock he gave you turned you into a lovesick, little fucking yandere lite. how could it not? he fucked you like he hated you and that was something you’ve never experienced before. you became somewhat of a fiend, really.
you were shy but you had zero qualms letting him split you open right on his thick, heavy cock— whether it be him folding you into a mating press or riding him until you were cross eyed and drooling.
you were shy but you never hesitated to offer your throat to him as if it were some sort of consolation prize when he had a bad day or a particularly rough day at practice— or maybe the team lost the game. just all “oh no! 🥺 would a blow job help you feel better? ♡” you’re so genuine about it too, he thinks it’s sweet. but he feels bad for taking you up on the offer because he feels like he’s taking advantage of you. he’s all you know, your very first boyfriend. often thinking sex = bandaid.
you were shy but the sweet venom that poured from your lips while he pounded into you was anything but coy. “don’t talk to other girls.. i’ll kill them.” it’s a breathy little remark and you say it as you’re about to cum. if anything, it gets him off— turns him on even more.
you were shy but who would have thought you’d turn into such a little cock drunken minx for him. you’re his own personal cheerleader, so willing to please him.
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isame-allen · 3 months
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Happy valentine yall hope you don’t mind me
Just gonna put this here
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angellcherry · 3 months
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— home.
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» pairing: jungkook x reader
» genre: fwb to lovers, hurt/comfort, nsfw
» synopsis: “show me your thorns, and I'll show you hands ready to bleed.”
» warnings: allusions to depression, brief mentions of self harm (nothing graphic!), a little bit of angst, cuddling, reassurance, jungkook is a big green flag, talks of therapy and healing, confessions, lots of kisses, he's down bad and so in love :( (they both are), pet names, soft!dom jk, slight size kink, missionary bc he needs to look at her and kiss her 😩, praise, dirty talk, choking, creampie, aftercare
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His hand curled around the nape of your neck the moment your lips touched. Warmth trickled down your spine, and he titled his head; tongue prodding at your soft lips, like he wanted you down to the marrow. Like he wanted to dip into your soul, kiss after kiss, until he was completely submerged; until he's explored every nook and crevice, felt every bump and crack.
He pulled away from the heat of your mouth slowly, reluctantly, eyes half lidded and dark. Lungs expanding to take in more air, voice coming out hoarse.
"You weren't answering your phone..."
"I know," you whispered, "I'm sorry."
Jungkook shook his head.
"No need to be sorry, baby," he lifted your hand to his lips, leaving a kiss on the soft skin there. "I was just worried."
He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in closer. You sank into his embrace so easily; like you just came home. In a way, you have. He hasn't seen you in over a week...
It may not have seemed like much, but your absence was tangible. Suffocating. Especially when he didn't know if something was wrong.
"I'm glad you're here," he murmured.
You turned your head to peck his shoulder, fingers entwining, and then you were walking towards his bedroom as though it was second nature. The change in your demeanor had the corners of Jungkook's eyes crinkling from smiling. You practically skipped over to his bed, hopping onto the large mattress.
"Can I get a shirt, please?"
He didn't think you comprehended how fucking cute you were. He turned to open his closet and began rummaging through it.
"At this point, I'm pretty sure I'd kill someone if you asked me," he muttered.
"What?"
"Nothing, baby."
Flushing, he ignored the curious tilt of your head and threw you his favorite t-shirt.
God, how could someone be so fucking cute?
You were always excited to nap in his bed, share food and wear his clothes. The fact that it brought you comfort made his already lovesick heart swell up and ache. Something so simple, but so domestic — it fucked with his head. He wanted this every day, in every life. You were his comfort, too. Why couldn't you see it?
He leaned against his closet, arms crossed, watching you slip out of your clothes, the heap landing on the floor. It was art. You were so beautiful; inside and out. He couldn't help the way his stomach stirred and heart fluttered, yet instead of acting on his urges, he just walked over to you and bent down to pick up your clothes.
While you got into his shirt, he folded them neatly and placed them on his gaming chair.
"I missed this bed so much," you sighed.
Jungkook glanced over at you, taking a moment to drink in the image of you lying there, the black cotton of his shirt slightly too wide and too long for your body; but fuck, it looked perfect to him. He bit his lip, making his way to climb onto the mattress beside you.
"What about me?" He asked, delighted by how you opened up your arms, instinctively scooting closer to him.
"Hm, what about you?"
Jungkook pouted, eyebrows furrowing. His arms wrapped around your waist.
"Hey."
You giggled, peppering his face with kisses, and he wished he could live in this moment forever, stop all the clocks, kill time. To hell with what that would do to the universe.
"I missed you, too."
Just like that, he melted. Somehow, it hurt so bad; he had you right there, and yet he didn't. Disappearing and reappearing. Out of reach, like a mirage.
He lifted your hand to his lips again, momentarily distracted by how small it was compared to his.
"So tiny."
Amused at the scoff you let out, he turned it to kiss your palm, then paused abruptly.
A raw shade of red caught his attention.
Narrowing his eyes, he examined the wounds around multiple fingers — or at least tried to, before you caught on and pulled your hand away like you got burned.
His heart dropped.
It's been a while. Why were you doing this to yourself again?
Fuck. He felt like a failure of a man.
He swallowed thickly, then pulled you in closer, as if treading on thin ice. Terrified of making a mistake and feeling it crack under his weight. Once he was under, once it all fell apart, he didn't know if you'd let him in again.
"Baby..." he whispered into your hair.
"I'm so tired, Jungkook," mellow, you answered the question he didn't get to ask. "I don't know what's wrong with me..."
"Talk to me," he pleaded. "I can't help you if you shut me down."
You sniffed quietly. There was a loud crack. Not in the ice, but in his chest.
"You can't help me either way."
Jungkook tried to lift his head to look at you, but you gripped his hoodie, bunching up the fabric in your hand.
"Baby—"
"Not everyone deserves help," you insisted, a wet sigh following. "What's wrong with me? Why can't I help myself? E-everyone else seems to be doing just fine, a-and I'm just rotting away, filled with these ugly thoughts and feelings, I can't do anything right."
Jungkook hugged you tighter, like he hoped he could mould you together, give you as much of him as you needed to feel whole again. He'd let you rip him to pieces to fill the void.
"Stop saying that," he breathed, his eyes burning, "fuck, stop saying that."
He stroked your back as you cried into his chest, softly, feeling helpless and furious at the same time.
"When you're always in the dark," he whispered, "you learn to make friends with monsters to survive. It's all you know, so it's what feels most comfortable."
He heard you inhale, felt your head lift with hesitation. Eyes swollen, glossy, lower lip still trembling.
Jungkook cupped your face, wiping at the wet streaks.
"When you're always in the dark, sometimes... it feels like it's all you deserve. But it's not your fault. You're not a bad person," he said softly, his thumb rubbing your lower lip. "Sometimes, it's just the monsters you know talking."
You blinked, small and vulnerable, like a child who just woke up from a nightmare.
"I... I don't know..."
Jungkook squeezed your waist, so close his nose almost touched yours.
"But I know," he promised. "I know."
He stared into your eyes, watched them well up with more tears. He wished he could kiss them all away.
"Let me be there for you—"
You kissed him, and once again, it hurt. Because he wanted you, he wanted you so bad, but not like this — why didn't you want him, too?
Outside of the bedroom, when you weren't tangled in sheets, it seemed like you had no interest in letting your walls down. He's spent so much time trying to climb them, only to end up with broken bones, back down on the ground again.
He couldn't do this anymore.
He pulled away from your lips, denying you the oblivion you craved. He wanted to let you use him, he'd do it every day if it meant he could see you again. But he was afraid that if he didn't speak up now, he'd never find the courage to do it.
"I want to be with you," he breathed out. "Why won't you let me love you?"
There was an instant change in your expression that made his stomach lurch.
"I— I..."
A pause, filled with uncertainty.
Jungkook searched your eyes. The windows to the soul, they said. Broken, and the interior was dark. Nothing good lurked in there.
"I love you," he repeated.
His heart pounded in his chest. He stared right into this endless darkness, crawling with insecurities and fear. As though he was hoping the warm whisper would chase away the frigid, haunted air breaking through, make all the other voices come to a halt.
He was no longer a boy, but a man, and he feared no monsters. He wanted to flood the space with light.
"Move in with me," his palm settled on your cheek, thumb brushing your skin. "I'll help with your classes and therapy. I'll take care of you. You can lean on me until you're strong enough to stand on your own. And even then, when you do — I still wanna be there. I wanna make you happy... Every day."
There it was. His heart, right in the palm of your hand, like an offering. Bleeding through your fingers. Willing to be crushed, if it meant at least he tried.
But you cradled it instead.
Fresh tears, sticking to your eyelashes, and then a rush of warmth in the dark. Your lips pressed into his, tender, and he shut his eyes, tasting a mixture of salt and your sweetness —
"I love you," a shaky exhale, right into his mouth.
It sank into him like sunlight, pulsing, nourishing and bright. And he swallowed it up with a kiss, his teeth clashing with yours.
He shifted to hover above you, finding rest in between your legs, goosebumps erupting when he felt your hand slip under his hoodie, inching it up.
A giggle slipped past his lips, and he disconnected himself from you only to take it off, throwing it aside carelessly before he was kissing you again.
He felt you smile. You went straight to his head like wine. Your taste, your scent — your touch, exploring the muscles of his back, his shoulders.
He was already hard, aching to get lost in you; dizzy on want and love.
Hands groping over clothes, wherever they could reach, hot lips trailing down your neck. He wanted to do so many things to you; kiss every inch of your skin, make you come on his tongue.
But you had the whole night — a whole eternity, really. And the way you squirmed beneath him, arching your back, legs parting, hips raising to feel him, urgent and breathy, wiped his mind clean off anything but the need to be inside you.
Jungkook groaned, his cock twitching, leaking precum into the cotton of his boxers. He remained still, however, letting your hand wander in between your bodies.
His eyes were glued to the way it traveled down his tensing abdomen, pausing to lower his sweats; then dipping inside.
He tried to stay quiet, though his chest was heaving, the sight and the feeling of your hand wrapping around his girth making it twitch again.
He watched you pull your panties aside, wet and ruined, revealing your pretty, glistening folds and the small entrance below.
So fucking small.
It looked almost obscene compared to his cock, long and thick and pulsating in your hand. But you fit him perfectly, like you were made just for him.
The moment you guided him forward, and the wet tip touched the heat of your cunt, he lifted his eyes to yours.
He felt so fucked out, but he was gentle as he pushed inside. The tight, wet muscle welcomed him eagerly, inch by inch, until his hips touched yours and he couldn't breathe.
For a moment, time stood still.
His head fell into the crook of your neck, inked hand squeezing your thigh.
"I missed you so much."
He sounded broken, but he's never felt so whole before.
"I missed you too..."
You clenched around him, prompting his hips to move off their own accord, coaxing the most beautiful sounds out of your body. The wetness, the smack of his skin against yours; the soft whines that fueled the heat boiling deep in his gut.
"Mmm," he moaned, raspy, "doing so well, baby."
He tried to stretch you out slowly, preoccupy himself with biting and sucking at your neck; anything not to focus on how you clenched around him.
But he was doomed, and he understood that the second you moved your hips, fucking him back.
"Oh shit," he gasped, "baby..."
He stifled another moan into your cheek, picking up his pace, so deep inside you he wondered if you could feel him in your tummy. The thought alone made his cock throb, every vein and ridge.
Long, ringed fingers wrapped around your throat, the pressure soft, but definitely there. In return, you grasped his shoulders, nails digging in, and Jungkook knew he wasn't going to last long.
"Good?" He breathed, slamming into you a little faster, stuck on your shining eyes and eager nods. "Yeah?"
The mattress began to protest under the force of his thrusts, but the sound was drowned out by everything else. Jungkook felt your cunt tightening, so warm and so fucking sloppy, his own little personal heaven.
"Almost there? Hm? Gonna make a mess for me?"
Clench.
He groaned, his tummy twisting, the moans spilling past your lips making his head spin.
You merely nodded again, as though you couldn't speak. It made the corner of his lips quirk upwards.
"Yeah?" He tightened his hold on your neck, staking his claim with a coo. "My girl's gonna make a mess on my cock? Pretty angel's gonna cream all over it?"
Your breath hitched, thighs beginning to quiver around him.
"Y-yeah," you uttered, breathless, "yours—"
Jungkook's tongue slid into your mouth, his rutting becoming desperate. He wanted to mark you and brand you and oh god — he was about to see stars.
"Yeah, fuck— mine, my good girl," he stuttered out, "oh, baby, mhmm, I'm gonna come—"
His hips bucked as your pussy spasmed around him, sucking his cock in deeper, restricting his movements. Still, he fucked you through your orgasm, letting himself go with a loud groan. A burst of stars, the tension snapping; and he spilled inside you, white ropes of hot cum that filled you up to the brim.
He slumped against you after a drawn out moment, his body thrumming with bliss. Careful not to crush you, however, he rolled over to the side, his arms automatically enveloping your frame.
With his nose in your neck, he waited for his breathing to even out, lazily rubbing your hands.
"So good," he mumbled, "fuck... Are you okay, baby?"
You hummed, snuggling into him.
"More than okay."
Jungkook smiled, opening his eyes and pressing a kiss into your cheek.
"I'll wash you up in a sec."
"In a bit... Stay with me."
"I'm staying with you forever. Good luck getting rid of me now."
Your laughter sent a pang through his chest. He wanted to keep hearing it.
He brought your hand up to his lips, gently kissed each wounded finger, muttering his I love yous and praises until you both drifted off. Sated and warm under the sheets, tangled up in each other; with a single promise echoing through his head.
Never again would he let you hurt like this.
And whatever was happening outside of these four walls hardly mattered.
This was all that mattered.
This was home.
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chaussetteblanche · 4 months
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UGH UR LUKE ONES ARE TO GOOD😣😣imma new reader of yours but there to good do u think you can do a a child of hades with luke and maybe its a grumpy x sunshine type of thing😓☺️
thank you so much baby !! and thanks for requesting, i hope you like it !!
sweatshirt
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pairing : luke castellan x child of hades!reader summary : a few moments of your relationship with luke word count : 1.4k warnings : none, fluff
"Baby, have you seen my sweatshirt?" Luke's voice brought you out of your thoughts. You closed the book you were reading and placed it in your lap, looking up at him as he approached. "Which one?" "The grey one, you know, my favourite. I've been looking for it all morning." He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, tousling it slightly. "Nope, haven't seen it, sorry," you shrugged apathetically and returned to your book. Luke pursed his lips and placed his hands on his hips. "I could've sworn I left it in your cabin the other night, d'you think your brother maybe took it?" he asked hesitantly. "Nah, that's not like him." You brushed him off easily, trying to concentrate on your book.
Luke trudged forward and leaned down on the armrests of your seat, bringing his face close to yours. The pleasant smell of his body wash reached you as he moved closer. "Good morning, sunshine." He tilted his head to the side, smiling softly at you.
"Morning." You looked up at him, unimpressed but holding back a smile. He'd come up with the nickname when you'd first started dating. It was entirely ironic and you hated it. Well, you didn't actually hate it but you acted like you did, which made Luke love it even more. He pouted and pressed a chaste kiss to your mouth. "Will you tell me if you see my hoodie?" "Sure thing. I'll see you later." "Later, baby." He pressed another short kiss to your mouth and walked off. When he was a good fifteen meters away from you, he turned around. "YOU LOOK BEAUTIFUL TODAY, SUNSHINE!" he hollered. Everyone in the vicinity turned around to look at you and Luke, chuckling. Your cheeks burned and you hid your face behind your book, grumbling to yourself. "Good luck finding your sweatshirt after that, Castellan."
You crossed him on your way to training. He beamed when he saw you and jogged over, running a hand through his hair. "Hey, sunshine. Gimme a hug, yeah?" "Clingy, much?" you asked as you opened your arms for him. He chuckled and wrapped his arms around you, burying his face in your neck. "You okay?" you questioned into his hair, one hand coming up to run through his soft curls. He nodded and lifted his head to look at you. "Just tired, is all. You?" "Yeah, I'm okay. I'll see you at capture the flag?" "You sure will, babe." He pressed a kiss to your cheek and jogged off.
Later in the afternoon came capture the flag. You always ended up on the same team because people knew it was useless to put you in opposite sides. You simply wouldn't even try to fight or stop each other.
"Y/N, what are you doing? Go after him! He's got the flag!" Your team captain growled at you, gesticulating wildly. "No." Your arms were crossed as you leaned against a tree, watching him run off after you'd basically handed him the flag you were supposed to guard. You bit back a smirk, feeling proud of him. "I can't believe this," your team captain mourned, throwing his helmet onto the ground with a clatter.
"Luke, she's getting away!" Clarisse cried out as she reached the tall child of Hermes, out of breath after having chased you through the forest. You'd slipped right under all their noses and grabbed the flag from her. Luke watched as you turned around, a rare smile playing at your lips as you raised the flag in victory, laughing loudly. "Goddammit," Luke groaned, running a hand over his face, "that smile." He shook his head, a lovesick look in his eyes. Clarisse cursed loudly. "YOU GET 'EM, BABY!" Luke yelled before you were out of earshot. You flashed him a brilliant smile and he swore that he could have died right there and then and been happy. Clarisse stomped her foot, positively fuming as she cursed Luke out.
You had both been stationed strategically by Annabeth. You were near the river, supposed to stop anyone on the other team from crossing. Luke rested his head on your shoulder, stifling a yawn. "I'm tired," he all but whined, rubbing his eyes. "I'm tired," you repeated in a mocking voice. He pulled away from your shoulder, faking an offended look. "Are you making of fun of me? How dare you? Your chivalrous boyfriend, exhausted from the trials and tribulations of his hard life as a half-blood and you-" "Oh, shut up." You pulled him closer by the leather straps of his armour, pressing your lips against his. He effectively stopped talking, pulling you closer to him by the hips as he kissed you deeply. You tilted your head to the side and parted your lips, tangling a hand in his hair. He let out a small groan and went to deepen the kiss when you were interrupted.
"YO! LOVEBIRDS!" a voice called loudly, followed by the sound of rapid footsteps. You pulled away from Luke with a groan, turning around to find a member of the opposite team holding your flag bolting towards you at full speed, followed closely by a boy on your team. You stuck your leg out, effectively tripping the boy on the other team. He fell harshly onto the ground with a groan and you pulled out sword, pointing it at his neck. He cursed and dropped the flag onto the ground. You looked at the boy from your team, who was doubled-over, catching his breath. "Yes?" you deadpanned. You heard Luke laughing behind you and cracked a small smile.
That night, after dinner, you accompanied Luke to his cabin. He swung your intertwined hands back and forth as you walked. "How come you were so tired today?" you asked softly, turning away from the sunset to look up at Luke. He shrugged, not giving you an explanation. "How're you sleeping?" "Not much," he confessed quietly. "I go to bed and I just lie awake. And when I do finally fall asleep, I get them, y'know, nightmares." Your heart ached for him and you squeezed his hand. Every half-blood dealt with nightmares and sleeping problems, but some more than others. Luke had it the worst. He didn't like talking about it either and you were often forced to overlook and keep your mouth shut about the dark circles under his eyes for the sake of preventing an argument. When you reached his cabin, you stood on your tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his lips. "Sleep well." "Thank you, baby. You too. And thanks for walking me back." He kissed you once more before letting go of your hand. You watched him enter his cabin, your stomach churning at the thought of him spending another sleepless night.
That night, you who couldn't sleep. Thoughts of Luke, his insomnia, his nightmares and more clouded your mind. You twisted and turned for hours before finally getting fed up. You got up, rubbing your eyes and steadying yourself on the wall as you put your shoes on. You quietly exited your cabin and made your way to the Hermes one. The door was open halfway, as it often was. So many people sleeping in the same room left quite a disgusting smell if the air didn't circulate. You slipped inside without a sound and headed for Luke's bed. It was a trip you'd made many times before and you knew exactly that he was the on the left bottom bunk four beds away from the front door. It was dark and you couldn't see if he was sleeping or not. You started taking off your shoes, not making a sound.
"Sunshine?" he asked, his voice gravelly, as he sat up in bed, the covers pooling around his hips. "I couldn't sleep. Kept thinking 'bout you not being able to sleep, so I thought I'd come over and we'd help each other out." Your voice was quiet as you spoke and you pulled the sleeves of the sweatshirt you wore over your hands. You shuffled on your feet next to his bed. "That's actually really sweet, sunshine," he cooed before lifting the covers and scooting to the side. He knew he always slept better with you by his side but had never asked you before. He didn't want to be a burden. "C'mon, pretty girl, get in."
You didn't have to be told twice before you slipped under the covers and slotted yourself comfortably against him. He wrapped his arms around you, kissing your cheek. His warmth and the weight of his arms comforted you immediately and you could feel sleep already weighing on your eyelids. "Good night, sunshine." "Good night, Luke."
You were just drifting off to sleep when a few minutes later he spoke again. "Is that my sweatshirt?" You froze, suddenly wide awake. You didn't say anything for a few seconds before answering. "No...?"
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selineram3421 · 2 months
Text
*slams alarm clock against the wall*
Hissy Kitty
Part 4
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Part 3
Alastor X Reader Warnings ⚠
⚠ mentions of alcohol, all caps for shouting/yelling, our deer man in denial, cussing ⚠
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"What just happened?", Alastor asked.
He looked around with furrowed eyebrows, confused.
"Are you ok? What was that?", you got his attention with your questions. "Why did you threaten Sir Pentious?"
Then he noticed how close you were, and the hold he had on you.
"Alastor?"
Ripping himself away, he took a large step back. Looking you up and down in a panic before taking a step into the shadows, disappearing from your sight.
You stood alone in the hallway, wondering what had caused such a reaction, both the anger and the panic. Then you walked to the lobby, seeing your brother working at the bar and you took a seat on a bar stool with a sigh.
"Never thought I'd see you come up to the bar like that.", Husk quirked a brow. "Need to talk to the bartender?", he asked, getting a cup ready.
"No.", you sighed and crossed your arms on the counter, resting your chin on them. "I need to talk to my older brother."
A drink was placed in front of you before there was another one next to it, then your brother walked out from behind the bar and sat on the bar stool on your right side.
"Alright kit, lay it on me.", he said and got his drink to take a sip.
"It's just been weird.", you started off. "I know Alastor is around me to bug you, we've established that.", you gestured to each other. "But the others think that he's trying to court me?"
"Pffffft-!", Husk sprayed out some of his drink.
"Which I know is not true, because that isn't what's been happening but Charlie and Pentious think that. And the weirdest part just happened a few minutes ago.", you continued.
Your brother coughed before wiping his mouth.
"What happened?"
"I was talking to Pentious and then all of a sudden Alastor appeared behind me.", you gestured as if someone was behind you now. "Pulled me away from my conversation with Sir Pentious and threatened to cook him."
Your brother was quiet, holding his cup as he thought before placing it down on the counter. He turned his body to face you and placed a hand on your shoulder.
"I need to know every detail of what happened, this doesn't sound normal but I can't be too sure.", he says. "That smiling fuck is not normal in general."
"Ok.", you nod and start over. "Sir Pentious had stopped me in the hallway.."
.
Alastor teleported somewhere far away from you within the hotel.
He couldn't go back to his tower, you were too close by and he needed a moment to think, to not worry about being found by you. Then he remembered that you held his face, the lingering feeling of your touch on his cheek made his chest tighten.
"Alastor? Is everything ok?", he heard the familiar voice of the Princess.
Somewhat surprised, the deer demon takes a good look around of where he is. He had teleported himself into Charlie and Vaggie's room.
"Apologies dear, I was in a bit of a rush to notice where I was going.", he says with a tight smile and fixes his coat. "I shall be off.", he turns to face the exit.
"Oh wait!", the Princess gets up from her seat and walks over. "Let them know that their clothes are finished. Niffty sure works fast."
Not paying any mind to it, he glances at the blonde.
"Who exactly?", he asks.
Then she says your name.
He stands still like a deer in headlights.
"Why would I let them know?", he turns to face her with brows furrowed slightly.
"Because you're always around them, I assumed that you were going to see them again.", Charlie explains.
"HA!", the Radio Demon laughs. "Do you think me a lovesick fool? Following them around like some dizzy-"
"Love?", she says confused. "I never said anything about love.."
He stares at the Princess for a moment, seeing her make the realization before quickly making his way towards the door.
"¡'m |€@v¡n& Ω¤₩."
"Al! What's so wrong with being-?", Charlie followed behind him.
"Being in love?", Alastor stopped walking to finished her question, turning around to face the Princess.
"Yes! Why is that a bad thing?", she continued.
So many reasons. He thought.
"It makes a person ₩€aK.", he replied instead. "It clouds one's thoughts, blinds, consumes, ruins.", he shook his head. "I could never allow myself to fall so low."
The Princess looked at him with a sad glare.
"I don't know if my word on love means anything but to me love gives strength, it inspires, encourages, protects-"
"IT DOES NOTHING TO HELP PROTECT SOMEONE!"
Feeling the ends of his smile start to turn down, he looked away and made his way to the door.
"I'm leaving.", he said, voice void of static, deciding to use the shadows to escape from the conversation quicker.
Teleporting to his Radio Tower, he sees the mess of glass was cleaned up.
"Good, now I can get to work and forget about this whole th-"
The trap door slammed open, causing Alastor to snap his head around to see who had dared to enter his tower uninvited.
"You've got five fucking seconds to explain yourself.", Husk growled as he stood in the room.
"What are you going on about?"
"You touched my sibling again but this time you were pissed off.", the cat demon stomped his way over to the deer demon. "Why would some other demon touching them piss you off so much, huh? I told you countless fucking times that they aren't yours."
Husk jabbed at his boss's chest with his claw.
Alastor grew taller, letting his anger show. "D¤ Ωo+ toμ©h m€ aΩd ¡ wiL| dθ a$ I pL€a$e."
The two glared at each other until the cat's eyes widened.
"Holy shit.", Husk lowered his hand.
"₩hAt?", the Radio Demon hissed, ready to teach the ex Overlord a lesson.
"You're in love with them.."
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*glares at the morning sun* No.
~Seline, the person.
Part 5
Taglist@
@c4rved-pumpk1n @scary-noodlesblog @stolas-thebirb @naelys-the-aster @biromanticboba @lbcreations-blog @ducky-died-inside @kiraisastay @pooplyface1423 @line-viper @117s-girl @spiderlegsling @alastorsgoldie @repentant-repeller @kcsketches @lofasofabread @kotaleee @im-coolrat @superzombiewho @speckle-meow-meow @jammcookie @dilucragnvindr-my-beloved @trashbin-nie @koioli @fatherlesschild2 @mmik3yy @just-here-reading @nealeart @hudiexiaoying @crystal-multiplefandomlover @+?
🔪The other tags in the comments.🔪
ML for Alastor🎙 | HK ChL😾
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pretty-little-mind33 · 3 months
Text
Begin Again
James Potter x fem!reader
Summary: James has been persuing you for years and you've never said yes, until now?
Genre: Fluff 😇🎉 (bc i love happiness, ur welcome)
Warnings: misunderstandings, lovesick!James <3
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It's not James's fault he's been head over heels in love with you for longer than he can remember. And it's really not his fault either that he's spent years acting like a complete and utter fool just to have a sliver of your attention. 
Talking the loudest in any room you're in? Easy.
"Accidentally" flying too close to where you're sitting in the Quidditch stands while he's supposed to be playing just so he can flip around obnoxiously? He's done that over three times now. 
So, when he hears you'll be at the Three Broomsticks this evening, it isn't surprising to anyone that he convinces Sirius and Remus to accompany him.
The moment they walk in, their loud demeanor makes everyone turn their heads. It's no secret James, Sirius, and Remus are the handsomest guys in your year — so no one could blame you when you look up too. 
Your friend digs her elbow into your side when James sees you looking and struts to your table. You sit up, taking a long sip of your pumpkin juice as James leans in and crosses his arms.
Sirius and Remus stand behind him, amused. "Ladies," James winks, his eyes focused only on you. "What brings you here on this lovely Friday evening?"
You turn your head, avoiding his gaze with a small smile that makes James lose his mind, "Nothing that concerns you, Potter,"
"Can I buy you a drink?" he asks, unfazed by your bluntness as he motions to your empty glass. 
When you stand, James smoothly moves out of the way and you send him a look behind your shoulder. "Mm, no thanks. But if you want you can walk with me to order my own drink," you joke, not thinking he'll actually want to.
But, if James was a puppy, he'd be your puppy. You have him wrapped around your little pinky and the only person who doesn't see it is you. 
"Gladly," The boy smirks and his arm brushes yours as he walks next to you. You frown a little but don't say anything. You've never minded James's attention, and you know he's been after you for years now, but still you can't wrap your mind around him being serious about it.
In your mind, the attention was always bound to fade with time, and you wouldn't be caught as the fool who'd fallen for it.
However, as you lean against the bar to order another pumpkin juice and you feel James's eyes glued on you, you start to wonder. 
"So, when's the expiration date for this little game?" you ask, looking at him seriously. 
James leans against the bar too and completely turns his body to you. "Hmm? What?" he asks with a smile. He tucks the loose strand of hair from in front of your eyes behind you ear, seemingly proud of himself when he can see you clearly again. 
"This," you point at him, and then throw your arms up dramatically, "Whatever it is that you're doing."
James just smiles. He's not really catching on as his hand slides closer to yours on the bar counter. "What am I doing?" he whispers, leaning in. He has that look in his eyes, the one that makes your stomach flutter. 
You move your hand away from his. You sound exhausted, "All this flirting! Aren't you done yet?" you say it a little loudly and the woman who hands you your drink sends you a glare. Your cheeks heat up and you mumble a small sorry as you slide her your money. 
James catches your other arm before you can turn around and walk away from him. "Hey wait, what do you mean am I done? Do'you want me to be done?" he sound unsure and you can see his confusion on his face. 
Now you're confused. "Are you not planning on being done?" you whisper.
James can't hear you over the loud music and chatter inside so he moves you outside gently and you don't have to time to wonder why you let him.
It's slightly dark but the air is warm and James can hear you now when you ask the question again. He looks you over, still extremely puzzled by the entire situation.
"Wait, done with what?" he asks.
You blink at him. "What?" you feel like you're losing your mind. 
"Am I done with what?" he asks camly and you roll your eyes. 
"Done with flirting with me!" you exclaim, running a hand in your hair, "I- I don't understand, James. Why haven't you moved on? Sure, it was funny for a while but it's been years, even you must find the joke stale by now?"
James mouth opens and closes like some kind of fish and then he stares at you like you have lost your mind. "Joke? What joke?" he says and walks a little closer to you. He sounds even more confused. "Y/n, do you want me to stop flirting with you?"
You bite your lip, "I mean, yes? Because, it's not really funny anymore. I didn't mind it, Potter, but —" you pause and then hold the drink in your hand tighter. "Okay, here. What if I say I like you too? Can we just have a good laugh about it and then it all be over?"
James's frown deepens and he waves his arms in the air. "Wait, you think I'm joking?"
You blink at him again. "You're not?"
James runs a hand through his hair, chuckling in disbelief, "Of course I'm not joking," he walks even closer and you feel his presence as your skin tingles. You look up as he brushes his thumb on your chin and then smiles warmly, "I'd never pursue anyone as a joke. If you said you like me, then I would say thank Merlin and then I would kiss you until you couldn't feel those gorgeous lips of yours," he says it so calmly but you almost drop your drink. 
"Wait, so you actually, no-jokes, like me?" 
"Oh yeah. Why would you think I was making that up?" James moves his thumb to brush over your lips now, a look of adoration in his eyes, "I'm not that committed to my jokes," he teases. 
He pauses to think, "you think a twelve-year-old boy would write you cheesy love notes every class and actually send them if it was a joke? Or likewise, a sixteen-year-old would spend all of 6th year reading every single book you borrowed from the library just in case he had the chance to impress you? Or lose sleep over the way you wear your hair, or know that you change your nail-polish every week but you rotate the same colors since 4th year," James blushes a little at the admission and pauses, "and now I just sound like a creep, don't I?"
You laugh and the sound makes James grin. You hesitate but touch his cheek, tilting your head, "So, you meant every over-the-top gesture and every hilariously stupid pick-up-line?" you ask, "ever since 2nd year?" 
James nods, leaning into your touch. "Mmm yeah, but we can pretend that I was joking about the pick-up-lines that way it's less embarrassing for me," he says sheepishly.
"But I liked your pick up lines," you pout with a smile, your shoulders relaxing. 
James's eyes sparkle, "Yeah? You did?"
You smile at him. "No, but now it's funnier that you were serious about them."
James looks at you and he laughs. He throws his head back with a grin and your chest tightens even more. Has he always been this handsome or have you just never let yourself fully admire him? James looks at you again and his next words almost cause a heart attack. "Merlin, I've never wanted to kiss you as much as I do now," 
Your eyes flicker to his lips unconsciously and you realiz ehow close he is. You're nervous now and James can tell. Gently, he takes the drink in your hand and sets it on the small ledge of the building. It might fall but that's the least of your worries. For now, you need to focus on remembering how to breathe. 
Something must be different in the way you're looking at him because James asks you if he can kiss you. Years and years of flirting and he's never asked you that. 
You don't answer him and just when the silence starts to become awkward you take his cheeks in your hands and pull him towards you. Your lips hit his clumsily and you gasp into his mouth when his arm swoops behind you and he pulls you closer. James kisses you hungrily and you start to wonder why you hadn't done this years earlier.
When James disconnects his lips from yours and looks at you sweetly. "I didn't think you'd say yes," he whispers, "even less that you'd say it like that," his cheeks are tainted pink and your lip-gloss stains his lips. 
"Neither did I," you admit and look away a moment. Goosebumps run across your arms and, because you don't know where to put your hands anymore, you put them in your jacket pockets. You frown and pull out the galleons you'd used to pay for your drink with your left hand. You look back at James and he looks guilty. "What's this?" you ask. 
"I paid for your drink when you weren't looking. I knew you'd most likely say no again but I couldn't resist. I'm sorry," he holds his nape and sways on his feet.
You stare at him, slightly annoyed but also impressed that he'd put the money in your pocket without you noticing. You outsrech your open palm for him to take the money. "You'know, you make it very hard for me not to fall head over heels in love with you, James Potter."
James grins and closes your hand around his. "That the point, love," he says. 
You roll your eyes, realizing if he'd gone behind your back to pay for you he'll never accept your money now. "So, are you gonna ask me out properly or what?"
James smirks, "Are you going to say yes this time?"
You grin, "You'll just have to find out now, won't you? Tenth times the charm?"
"I don't think that's the expression—"
"Just ask me already, you idiot," you giggle.
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lafleshlumpeater · 4 months
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hey lovely!!
maybe a luke castellan x fem!reader who’s suuuuper sweet? maybe an aphrodite kid, and jsut super kind and charming overall? nobody expects her and luke to be together, but how different they are ends up working?
thank you!!!
ofc<3
Warnings: fem!reader, small mention of food, PDA, one swear word, lmk if there are any missing
I hope you dont mind this is from percy’s pov<3
luke castellan masterlist part two
“No way,” Percy muttered under his breath, giving Charlie the same disbelieving look he was receiving back. "I don't believe it."
Charlie shrugged.
“Well, you’d better,” the boy whispered back. “Cause it looks like they got something serious, man.”
The pair watched in part disgust and part fascination as they watched the blissful pair across the fire. Luke had his chin rested on her shoulder, whispering something Percy assumed was flirtatious due to her flustered reaction- all pink cheeks and giggles as she reprimanded him playfully, pushing his chest. Luke remained unfazed, lips curling smugly and crossing his arms as he brushed a quick kiss against the plush of her cheek.
Charlie’s eyes widened further. “But how? They’re so-”
“Different?” Silena finished her boyfriend’s sentence, looking up from her charred marshmallow stick. “You’re not one to talk, Charles. Look at us. Besides, she makes him a completely different person. Look.”
The trio turned their heads once again, this time to the nauseating, in Percy’s opinion, sight of her feeding Luke pieces of sticky marshmallow, both of them giggling when it gets everywhere. Luke pokes his tongue out to get the last bits off of her fingers, and she squeals.
Percy’s nose wrinkles, turning to Charlie. “Disgusting.”
“Agreed,” Charlie nods with a grimace of his own. “It’s a miracle he got her, to be honest. She’s so…”
“Bubbly?”
“That.”
Charlie sighs. “I am happy for him, though. The both of them. Even if they are… terrifyingly different.”
Percy nods in agreement, heart swelling in joy for his first friend at camp. “Yeah.”
The older boy sighs. “They’re too mushy though,” he remarks.
Percy’s eyes narrow at the scene of the lovesick couple, now kissing tenderly with not even the fire casting fluctuating shadows over their faces able to hide the content of their expressions. “Not nice.”
Charlie inhales. “Oi!” he yells over the fire. “Too much PDA, man! Get a room!”
Laughter ripples through the air, and both guilty candidates break away, one unnaturally red- faced and the other tittering, finger hooked around the string of her partner's beaded necklace.
“Fuck off, man,” Luke complains loudly, eyes dancing with glee. “Leave me and my girl alone.” He wraps an arm around her shoulder, pulling her closer than deemed possible.
She looked up at him, adoration gracing her soft features as she stared at her lover. “Don’t be mean, Luke.”
“He started it!”
(not proofread- lmk if there are any mistakes)
taglist: @quickslvxrr @bibliophile-dendrophile
READ: this account stands with palestine, and so— i require everyone who interacts to educate themselves, and support/donate. READ THESE; 1 and 2, HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. silence is complicity, do not scroll past this.
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