#he believes he can fix himself or at least find something DO SOMETHING before the rot takes over

[philosophiums]

hooooo boy i haven't posted a fic here in a long time but @hinamie's itafushi art fully possessed me so please take this offering as my first ever jjk fic

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Night has set in like a bruise – a dark sky framed and mottled by light pollution, a memory of violence hidden behind a veneer of something almost pretty. There’s evidence of life in the distant city, but nothing close by. Megumi can hear a soft thrum of traffic and the occasional shout or laugh, but the immediate vicinity hosts only crickets and the restlessness of his companion.

Itadori is pacing at the bottom of the staircase Megumi is sitting on, and Megumi watches him closely out of the corner of his eye. It’s nothing new for Itadori to hype himself up before a fight, so Megumi isn’t worried, exactly, but there’s something abnormal in the fierceness of his movements, the rolling of his shoulders, the way his head tilts like he’s trying and failing to have a conversation in his head. 

He doesn’t want to mention it. Conversations with Itadori are often marred by the reality of what the finish line looks like – they can’t both make it out alive. They both know it. Itadori likes to pretend he hasn’t grasped the reality of the situation, but Megumi understands the depth of the haunting he carries around when he thinks no one is looking. Which means that when Megumi asks after him, inquires into his wellbeing, Itadori brushes it off with a smile and a laugh. And his smile is as brilliant as the sun, so of course Megumi has to look away to protect himself.

Somewhere in the nearby bushes, several of his rabbit shikigami are maintaining a perimeter around the area, allowing him to relax while still doing everything he can to stay on high alert. Shibuya shouldn’t have turned into such a mess, and maybe it wouldn’t have if more people had been suspicious to the point of paranoia. It’s too late to fix that, too late to take away Itadori’s scars, too late to take back the suicide pact he himself signed, but he can at least look ahead to whatever future awaits them. He can do his best to keep them safe. 

“Fushiguro.” 

Oh no. Nothing good ever comes from Itadori’s serious voice. 

Please. 

If I die, you’ll kill me, right?

He blinks and finds himself looking at a stationary Itadori, hands in his pockets and eyes on the building behind Megumi. “What is it?”

“Are there really curses in there? I thought they couldn’t step foot in a church.” Itadori looks genuine when he asks, and it wouldn’t be the first foolish question out of his mouth, but the tone he used to call Megumi’s name just… doesn’t match with the question. Seriousness followed by off-handed curiosity isn’t exactly Itadori’s style. This isn’t what he had wanted to say, but something made him pivot into an unplanned conversation. 

Maybe Megumi has been paying too close attention to him. Maybe Megumi should know better. It’s all doomed anyway – a heat death guaranteed to happen. There’s no point in devoting so much time trying to learn someone’s intricacies when they’re inevitably going to leave, by force or otherwise. He should save himself the heartache. He should have learned his lesson the first time Itadori died.

His arms shake with the phantom weight of Itadori’s body in his arms, limp and lifeless and bloody with that stupid soft smile still on his face even in death with a hole in his chest. His parting words still circle in Megumi’s head sometimes.

Part of him wishes that Itadori had cursed him in the end. Maybe it would have been easier.

“You’re thinking of vampires,” Megumi says. “Or demons. Curses can go anywhere.”

Itadori makes a sound like he’s not really sure he believes Megumi, which is insane because Megumi is not the one who watches movies with vampires and demons in them. At least, he hadn’t before Itadori walked into his life and demanded movie nights at the school and midnight viewings at the theater.

“A church, though?” Itadori continues, insisting. “Aren’t these supposed to be, like, full of positive energy?” He tilts his head up and to the side, and the closest streetlight reflects across his face, highlighting his jaw, catching in his eyes until they glow damn near gold.

Megumi has to look away. His chest hurts if he stares too long at everything he can’t have.

“Just because something is comforting doesn’t mean it can’t be a curse.” As soon as the words leave Megumi’s mouth, he knows he shouldn’t have said them. Even in his peripheral, almost entirely out of his view, he can see Itadori look at him with his expression opening into surprise or something worse.

Fuck. He really can’t allow himself to be so obvious, especially when they’re hours away from stepping through the barrier around the first Tokyo colony and into the Culling Game. They’re about to put their lives on the line again. Now isn’t the time to lose his composure.

Before he can catch himself, his hand is in his pocket, digging out the pack he keeps for what he considers emergencies. There’s a cigarette between his fingers in a matter of seconds, and his lighter is in his other hand a moment later.

Itadori swipes it before he can light up, and Megumi is left with wide eyes and a cigarette dangling limply between his lips as he looks up at the boy suddenly standing over him. He forgets, sometimes, just how fast Itadori is. 

“Since when do you smoke?” Itadori asks, all childish curiosity, not an ounce of judgement in his tone. And yet, the stolen lighter feels like judgement – a withholding of something, well… harmful, sure, but it’s not like Megumi isn’t aware that every inhale of nicotine is an inch closer to his death. What does losing a minute or an hour or a day matter when he’s probably not going to reach the age of thirty, anyway?

“Since middle school,” Megumi replies, reaching out to attempt to quickly reclaim his lighter, but all Itadori has to do is lean his torso to the side and it’s out of reach. “Can I have that back, please?” 

“Why?” Itadori hasn’t had such a soft look on his face since they dragged themselves kicking and screaming out of the warzone Shibuya turned into.

“Because there’s a cigarette in my mouth and it would be a waste not to smoke it.”

Itadori makes a face, a petulant little pout just this side of sticking his tongue out. It’s cute, and Megumi has to close his eyes for a moment. “I meant why did you start smoking in middle school?”

The sigh that leaves Megumi’s lungs is heavier than he wants it to be. He’s not… good with emotions, and he’s even worse at expressing them. It wasn’t a problem when he was all alone, with the second-years distant due to their classes, and Gojo either a nuisance better avoided or thousands of kilometers away taking care of a curse too powerful for anyone else to handle. But then Itadori, fresh off the loss of his grandfather, sacrificed himself for not only his friends but for Megumi as well. And he has refused to leave, no matter how hard Megumi tried at first to put up his barriers and protect himself.

Because the truth is that Megumi was helpless from the moment Itadori jumped through a window and crash landed on a curse. He is the very definition of someone with an unshakeable character. The fact that they’re here, now, on the backside of a slaughter, newly scarred and traumatized, and Itadori can still smile at him in a way that softens his eyes proves beyond any doubt that he is who he is and that won’t change. And it guts Megumi from the inside out because everyone who has ever touched his life has become poisoned by him.

He takes the cigarette out of his mouth and holds it between his knuckles. “I don’t know. I wanted…” This time when he sighs, it’s softer, and he moves his gaze away out of embarrassment more than anything else. Itadori and Kugisaki already made fun of him for how he acted in middle school, and he doesn’t want to go through it again. “I wanted people to be afraid of me – teachers, students, upperclassmen, underclassmen, it didn’t matter. I wanted to look and be as aggressive as possible so they didn’t mess with me or Tsumiki.”

Itadori snorts, and less than a second later he’s laughing with his head tilted back and his eyes closed. For the moment, he’s unguarded, and Megumi uses the opportunity to stare. In the low amber light, he looks impossibly young, soft around the edges where his scars and personal losses have hardened him. The pink of his hair dims into the gentlest of dawns, and the happy tears that pearl in the corners of his eyes are more stunning than the thin veil of starlight overhead. In a world overflowing with curses, Megumi has never believed in angels, and yet it’s the only word he can conjure that comes even close to describing the boy in front of him. 

Megumi knows he’s in love; how could he not be?

“That’s just like you,” Itadori says, breathless, and Megumi suddenly feels like he’s falling even though Itadori is the one suddenly dropping to sit on the stairs beside him.

Itadori is a morning person, even though he’s slow to wake up. He won’t drink coffee unless it’s iced. He never tucks in his shirt tags. When he’s upset, he throws himself into social situations to hide behind other people’s laughter. He carries snacks in his pockets and will offer them to everyone. These are all details that Megumi has collected about Itadori, stashing them away like a crow with shiny objects, hoarding them as the treasures that they are and that he can never truly have.

He had never once considered that Itadori has been observing him just as studiously in return.

Their knees bump, and Megumi knows he should pull away, but he can’t bring himself to. The night isn’t cold, but Itadori’s warmth is a comfort, anyway. Megumi hasn’t had many comforts in his life.

“Give me my lighter back,” he says instead of acknowledging anything else. His chest hurts. His heart is too loud in his ears. Itadori is right there, lips twisted by his scar, eyes flashing with the humor that’s still rolling through him, shaking his shoulders as he looks back at Megumi.

Instead of answering or acquiescing, Itadori leans forward until their shoulders press together, blocking out the ghost of a breeze flowing in from behind them, and rolls his thumb over the spark wheel until a flame catches. His hand and Megumi’s both come up at the same time to cup around the other side, protecting the small flame from the elements, and it’s tender and intimate when Megumi’s fingers brush against the curve of Itadori’s palm.

He pretends not to notice as he puts the cigarette back between his lips and ducks his head. The first drag to catch the paper and tobacco on fire takes a while, and he is so incredibly aware of how close Itadori is, of the protective shell they’ve made with their bodies as they keep this flame going between them. He can’t think about it, can’t acknowledge it, can’t –

As soon as he sees embers, he sits up and leans away, creating a small pocket of space for him to exhale into. But the flame stays lit, Itadori’s thumb still pressed into the fork to keep the gas flowing out. 

Megumi smacks his arm without looking at him directly. “You’re wasting the butane.”

Without protest this time, Itadori listens, and the flame dies with a soft click as the fork snaps back into place.

The stillness of the night around them settles again, crickets becoming the dominating sound over the gentle rattling of leaves and the far distant honking of a car horn. The tobacco sizzles as the fire slowly eats through it every time Megumi takes a drag.

Itadori’s unwavering gaze on him feels like a physical weight. There’s a tender smile there, Megumi just knows it, but god damn it he won’t look. This can’t be a this. There’s nothing here but a road that dead ends on a bottomless cliff. No one has forever, despite claiming that they will, but he and Itadori don’t even have years. They could die tomorrow, the moment they step through that barrier. Fuck, the curses in the church behind them could come out and catch them off guard right now, and no one would know where to look for their bodies.

So it doesn’t matter that Itadori sometimes looks at Megumi like he hung the moon. It doesn’t matter that Megumi understands the plight of Icarus when he sees Itadori smile. He is not going to create a situation that is doomed to end early. He is not going to push his feelings into the world just for the universe to stomp them into the dirt. He is not going to let himself muddy the lines on a friendship that is already too good to be true.

He takes a drag in that’s harsher and longer than the last, fast enough that his lips burn from the fire racing too fast through the cigarette towards the filter. He lets it hurt, tells himself he deserves it, and exhales the smoke slowly with his eyes closed.

For a moment, he just sits there, his arm draped across his knee, which is still pressed into Itadori’s knee, and tries to pretend that everything is fine. It’s normal. It’s just a crush. It’ll go away. He would rather die with longing in his heart than risk living long enough to experience a loss that will crush him.

When he brings his hand back up to take another drag, fingers on his wrist stop him in his tracks.

“Fushiguro.”

“Itadori?” He turns his head and opens his eyes in the same movement, wondering if there’s a problem, if all the actions he took to be obsessively vigilant were for naught, if somehow something got the drop on them. “What –”

The press of Itadori’s lips against his own shuts him up fast and leaves his mind spinning and his lungs devoid of air.

What?

Why…?

Itadori makes a noise at the back of his throat – soft, questioning, encouraging – and Megumi forgets every reason he has ever had on why this is a bad idea.

He kisses back.

It’s not a desperate kiss. There isn’t a sudden light switch that flips on and turns them into feral horny teenagers crawling all over each other, desperate to touch in as many places as possible as fast as they can. Three points of contact is all they started with and all they still have. Their knees, digging into each other in a way that almost hurts, but the warmth is so strong that it doesn’t matter. Itadori’s fingertips oh, so gently resting against Megumi’s wrist, not even touching skin. And the tentative slide of their lips as Megumi tilts his head and Itadori seems to crack a smile.

Itadori’s lips are chapped, and Megumi can feel the texture of scar tissue as they blindly search for an angle that feels better than the others. It probably wasn’t meant to be a long kiss when Itadori first leaned in, but Megumi can’t bring himself to pull away even though there’s absolutely nothing physically holding him here. The instinct to jerk back with his hackles up is there, just under his skin, but every exhale of Itadori’s sounds like a blissed-out sigh as it shivers across Megumi’s cheeks, and he finds himself more and more willing to just have this.

Itadori is the one to break the kiss, but he doesn’t go far, resting his forehead against Megumi’s and just breathing into his space. Megumi feels like he just ran five kilometers; it’s impossible to suck enough oxygen into his lungs to stop feeling lightheaded. His cigarette is still between his fingers, slowly burning itself down to the filter, but Megumi has completely forgotten about it. 

“What was that for?” Megumi whispers, eyes flicking back and forth looking for clues in the depths of Itadori’s eyes. It’s an accusation, yes. They could have kept pretending. The pain at the end of this is going to be unimaginable. But it’s also a desperate plea. 

Don’t pretend it didn’t happen. Don’t apologize. Don’t say you didn’t mean to.

“I don’t know,” Itadori admits, and that crooked smile is back, perching on his mouth in a way that tempts Megumi to kiss it away. “Good luck? Felt like the right time.”

Megumi drops the cigarette by his foot and moves his hand to Itadori’s face, cupping his cheek and the curve of his jaw. He can feel himself shaking with adrenaline and the fear of an unknown dark path laid out in front of them. “You’re an idiot,” he says, but even he can hear the fondness in his voice. 

“Mhm, yeah, you’ve said that before.” Itadori’s hand covers Megumi’s, and the shaking subsides. “But you kissed me back, so what does that make you? Reckless?”

“Insane,” Megumi offers, just to hear Itadori laugh. He isn’t expecting the second kiss that follows, but he’s glad for it, anyway.

It’s funny, he thinks, even as he pushes a little closer and sighs into the shape of Itadori’s mouth, that regardless of the church behind him, regardless of the temples he has walked through time and again, regardless of the habits he hasn’t broken of prayers during the new year in exchange for fortune slips that hold no merit to him – despite religion flowing in and around his life, there is no higher power in the universe he believes in as much as he believes in Itadori. 

If anyone can defy fate, if anyone can push through to the other side of certain tragedy, it will be Itadori. 

Start by saving me, he had said, and this isn’t exactly what Megumi had meant. But his chest is warmer than if he had tipped back some sake, and he certainly feels like he could face down a special grade curse and win right now.

They’re not going to have forever. They may not even have twenty-four hours.

But they have tonight. They have right now.

“You better not die tomorrow,” Megumi warns, just barely breaking away enough to speak.

Dying alone is all but a guarantee for jujutsu sorcerers. One day, one of them is going to leave the other behind, and it’s going to rip the survivor to pieces and scar like a phantom limb. Even without a confession, their feelings have splattered like a hemorrhaging wound onto the staircase between them. No amount of backtracking, of lying, of pushing each other away could mop it up now – they’ve left a stain, and their hands are doomed to always have each other’s blood caked under their fingernails.  

“Would be a shitty good luck kiss if I did,” Itadori says before leaning back with a smile as broad as the sky.

Megumi pushes him away with the hand on his cheek, and Itadori’s laugh overtakes the crickets and the wind and the far-off traffic as he pulls himself back into Megumi’s orbit with their fingers tangled together.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #itafushi #jjk fic #itafushi fic #this is going up on AO3 as well probably as soon as i think of a title for it #3.2k of pining and longing and denial and - finally - acceptance #I DON'T KNOW WHAT I'M DOING ANYMORE AAAAAAA #just take it i cannot keep staring at it #my fic

[shkika]

Honestly I think it's awesome, reinforces the fact they're cyborg computers and can just dump infected body parts out of the can !

Imo Pebbles may have dropped his labs first, realized he still got rot cysts crawling on parts he cannot just throw away, then started to resume giant water intakes to flush whatever clung on away. Moon collapses afterwards.

If anyone would like to give me an iterator anatomy lesson I'd actually love you so much I'm neither good enough at biology or technology stuff to know anything.

ANYWAY I don't know if there's any other part of Pebbles he has actually thrown out that we can see but hm...

I wonder if this little guy had selfish little thoughts. Not born out of malice, but fear and frustration. I mean his project has failed, everything is going WRONG.

Now.

Moon is already in a horrible state. She's not stable, she's also part of why this is happening. The water he could stop taking wouldn't do much for her, she's a lost cause.

But he's still functional. He can still try and finish his work. I mean it makes sense why he shouldn't stop. Moon will collapse anyway. While Pebbles has the chance to solve the problem still.

He was this close after all.

#ask #hohhoho im not fact checking all im saying but yes #i also need to say that the events of what happened #happened INCREDIBLY FAST #in a game where we see these robots in like such different parts of their lives #where we assume many years have passed #moons collapse happens in the span of DAYS from implications #maybe weeks #she already begins to worry about her life after pebbles has been taking water for only TWO CYCLES/roughly TWO DAYS #THESE PUTERS #CANNOT #last AT ALL without water #nobody had enough time to do anything #it was a very very scary situation #pebbles is a scared little guy trying desperately to survive #even during artificer times #he believes he can fix himself or at least find something DO SOMETHING before the rot takes over #and he must do it now and all alone #to make up for what happened #as if it would #HOHOHHOHOHO SORRY I LOVE GOING ON TANGENTS SO SORRY #kiki rambles #geeai #rain world

[cevansbrat0007]

Sugar Fix

Summary: Your poor attempt at a joke lands you in hot water with your man. Takes place directly after the events in Sweet Tooth and Sweet Tooth Deluxe.

Warnings: Mature Themes, Smut, Ari Being A Menace, Brat!Reader, Discussions of Poor Body Image, Arguing, Manhandling, Mentions of Punishment, Spanking, Pussy Spanking, Spanking, Oral Sex (fem rec), Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Written for @writer84. Part of my Sweet Renegades Series. Semi-proofread, not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!

“God, that was good.” You lean back in your seat, lazily stretching your arms over your head. Your man smiles as he dutifully picks up your plate before briefly giving into temptation long enough to press a tender kiss against your lips. 

“Mm.” Ari hums low in his throat as he repeats the action once more. “Glad you enjoyed it, baby. Still find it hard to believe that you’d never had chocolate chip pancakes before today.”

“Hey! You promised you wouldn’t make fun of me.” You pout, reaching out to swat his perfectly sculpted ass, which was now unfortunately hiding beneath a pair of black sweatpants. At least he’d forgotten to put on a shirt.

Mostly because you were wearing it. 

“And I’m not.” Your man chuckles while adding your dishes to the growing pile in your sink. “I’d never do something so foolish. Especially since we only just made up.” He tosses a wink at you over his shoulder. 

Yeah, and that was mostly your fault.

“I am really sorry about that.” You murmur, feeling a twinge of regret over having subjected your man to several days of the silent treatment. “I should’ve talked to you about that whole business with Charline.” 

“Water under the bridge, baby.” 

Resting your chin on your hand, you watch as your bounty hunter busies himself with filling the sink with hot water and dish soap. Some days it still floored you that you were seeing a man who didn’t put up a fuss about cooking. Or cleaning for that matter.  

“I just meant that I’m in no hurry to have you toss me out on my ass again just yet.” He continues while sudsing up one of the new sponges you’d left laying on the counter. “That’s all I was saying, little Bird.”

“Well that wouldn’t be very hospitable of me, now would it?” You’re quick to counter, allowing your gaze to drop to your bare knees. “Seeing as you were kind enough to break into my home and cook me breakfast.”

“I had a key.” He snorts dismissively. 

“Yeah, one that you stole!” You fire back, doing your best to hide your grin. “From me!”

“What the hell does any of that matter if you were already gonna–” He cuts himself off with a shake of his head before deciding to change tactics. “Look sweetheart, if you wanna argue about semantics can you at least wait until we’re both naked?” 

“I guess so.” Comes your breezy reply as you fiddle with the hem of Ari’s t-shirt. Granted the fit was much too big for you, but it didn’t change the fact that you loved how wearing it made you feel. There really was something to be said for being surrounded by the heady scent of your man. 

“Thank you.” Ari grunts before returning his attention to the stack of dishes in need of a good scrub. “Did you have enough to eat? Can’t have you wastin’ away on me.”

“Sure did.” You beam at him, content to sit back and enjoy the view. No man should be allowed to look that flippin’ sexy while doing simple household chores.

“Good.”

“To be honest, I didn’t even realize I was that hungry until I took that first bite. I suppose that’s what I get for not really eating…” You trail off when Ari turns toward you, his piercing blue eyes locking with yours. “...much over the last couple days.” 

Your pulse speeds up as you watch your Bounty Hunter brace his still-wet hands on the edge of the counter. Which is when you belatedly realize that you probably should’ve kept that tidbit of information to yourself. 

“Little Bird?” 

“Yes, sugar?” You can’t help but wince at the way he says your name. Even still, you decide to stand up, hoping to distract him from the direction his thoughts were taking. “Want some help drying those plates? Because I don’t mind–”

“When was the last time you ate something?” He cocks his head to the side, almost like he’s studying you while he waits for your answer. “And before you get cute on me, baby, I’m talkin’ about before today.”

You can feel yourself physically wilt as you weigh your options. While you tended to believe that honesty was the best policy, sometimes being too honest had the tendency to get you in trouble with your man. 

“I had some toast the other–”

“A full meal.” Ari swiftly interrupts, clearly not in the mood to mince words.

“Well, if you really must know…” Crossing your arms over your chest, you prepare to stand your ground. “I haven’t found myself with much of an appetite lately.” You sniff, ignoring the way his nostrils flare. “Probably on account of our tiff.”

Okay, now that was absolutely true. Because whether this man realized it or not, he had a knack for always making sure you ate at least one proper meal before the day’s end. With him out of the picture, you hadn’t really had any desire to eat. 

Instead of responding, Ari turns to stare out the window, quietly sucking on his teeth as he does. You knew without asking that he was working to rein in his temper before he spoke again, lest he say the wrong thing and start another fight.  

“C’mon Beast, it’s really not a big deal.” You shrug, biting your thumb as will him to cast a glance your way. “Besides, I’m pretty sure these hips could stand to miss a meal or two.” 

While it was certainly a poor attempt at levity, you felt that one of you had to do something to lighten the mood. You startle when Ari suddenly throws down the sponge into the sink, sending water splashing everywhere. 

You watch him slowly dry his hands with a nearby towel before tossing it aside in favor of bridging the distance between you. Good sense and the need for self-preservation has you backing up; however, you scarcely make it two steps before you feel your butt collide with your kitchen table. But your bounty hunter doesn’t stop moving until he’s standing directly in front of you.

“What was that?” He asks without an ounce of friendliness in his tone. In fact, his question comes out sounding more like a dare than anything else. “I reckon I’m a little hard of hearing these days.”

Later, you would kick yourself for taking the bait. 

“Ahem.” Clearing your throat, you can’t help but notice the clench of his jaw. “I said that these hips – my hips – could probably stand to miss a meal.” You repeat, giving him your best prim and proper tone. 

Sometimes the facts weren’t up for discussion. 

Moving with a speed that belies his size, Ari manages to wrap one brawny arm around your waist before using his considerable strength to pin you face down against the kitchen table. Shocked by this sudden mistreatment, you open your mouth fully prepared to protest, only to snap it shut the moment you feel a cool breeze ghost across your bare backside. 

“Try again, sweetheart.” The lawman grunts before delivering a hearty smack to your ass, eliciting a rather undignified screech from you. “Oh? I’m afraid I still didn’t quite catch that.” 

“There’s no need to act like a brute!” You cry as you struggle against his impossible hold. “It’s not right for you to–ahh fuck!” You damn near lose it when his heavy palm connects with your traitorous cunt, the sound of the wet slap echoing throughout the room. 

In that very moment, that sweet bite of pain had never felt so good.   

“Ah, sweetness.” Ari coos, a hint of mocking laughter curling around his tone. “Could’ve sworn I’d fucked some sense into you earlier this morning. Are you tellin’ me my work still isn’t done?” 

You think back to something he’d said when he was busy fucking you senseless. He’d said, or snarled as it were, that you needed a Sir or a Daddy to help keep you in line. At the time you’d assumed that he’d simply got caught up in the heat of the moment. But now… 

Apparently it takes you too long to answer because his next smack has you rising on your toes.  You clench your thighs together, desperate to ignore your body’s response. Although it does little to stop your man from wedging a proprietary hand between them anyway.

“Now is not the time to go quiet on me, little Bird.”

He gently cups your most intimate flesh before expertly parting your messy folds with his thick fingers. A soft cry escapes when he lightly pinches your swollen clit, making your hips buck. 

Sweet Christ! You honestly had no idea just how much you actually enjoyed being manhandled until you crossed paths with this guy. 

“All I was trying to do was answer your question!” You grit out, doing your best to ignore the filthy wet squelch of his palm colliding against your core once more, causing a fresh wave of arousal to dampen your thighs.  

“And I didn’t much care for your answer.” Ari hums, taking a moment to lazily pet your now glistening cunt. 

And who’s fault was that? Just because the man thought he owned the rights to your body didn’t give him the authority to…to…punish you like this. But when you inform him of that, the only response you get comes in the form of an annoying chuckle. 

“I was joking, damn you – ooh!” You whine, stomping your foot for good measure – both of which manages to earn you another spank. 

“But that’s just it, baby.” He rumbles, taking a break from further abusing your poor, overworked flesh. “Last I checked, jokes were supposed to be funny.” You press your face against the cool surface of the table as two sinful fingers playfully tease your entrance. “And talking shit about these curves ain’t funny, right?”

“Y-yes! I mean right.” In need of a little relief, you attempt to entice your man by wiggling your ass. But instead of doing as you bid, those same fingers soon find their way back to your swollen bundle of nerves, pinching just hard enough to get and hold your attention.

“Glad you think so.” He murmurs, leaning down to brush his lips along the sensitive shell of your ear as his free hand moves to rub soothing circles along your lower back. “And since I’ve finally got you in the mood to listen, how about we talk about something else?” 

Instead of responding, you merely nod – giving him leave to get whatever the hell he wanted off of his perfectly sculpted chest.  

“The next time you get the bright idea to shut me out without givin’ me a chance to plead my case, you had better do a damned good job respecting this gorgeous body while I’m on ice.” The air of danger in Ari’s husky purr has goosebumps rippling along your heated flesh. “Because if you don’t, I swear to God the moment you let me back in, I’m gonna do a lot more than spank this pretty pussy. You get me?”

Still unable to form words, you decide to let your body do the talking. Groaning low in your throat, you arch your hips and wiggle your ass, purposely grinding your cunt against his now drenched palm. 

“Ah, sweetheart.” He rasps in approval, gently nipping your earlobe with his sharp teeth. “You get me. Yeah, you do.” 

As a reward for your submission, Ari takes pity on you by slowly spearing his fingers inside your sopping wet core. Now it’s his turn to groan when he feels your velvety walls flutter around him, eagerly sucking him back in when he tries to pull out. 

“Fuck if my girl ain’t got a greedy fucking pussy.” Your bounty hunter muses, more to himself than to you. “Are you sore? Need me to let you rest some more?” 

In all reality, what he really wanted to do was splay you out on the table and kiss your puffy pussy lips until you were a sobbing, trembling mess. But he’d also settle for burying himself balls deep inside of you too.

Regardless of which one he chose, they both all but guaranteed that you’d remember this particular lesson for days to come. Because no one was allowed to talk shit about his beautiful Bird – not even you.  

“Want you to fill me up again.” You tell him, meaning every word even as his expert touch threatens to rob you of breath. “Help me work up an appetite. Please, Sir.” You tack on the last bit, hoping that might be enough to tip your man over the edge. 

Your now frantic pulse sings to new heights when you’re treated to the sound of Ari’s sweatpants hitting the floor behind you. Apparently he felt that you’d been punished long enough – something for which you were grateful. 

You can’t help but whine when he finally removes his fingers, leaving your empty walls clenching around nothing but air. Anticipation fills you while you wait, expecting to feel the bulbous head of his cock glide its way through your slippery folds. 

However, you’re surprised when he drops to his knees instead. His large, slightly calloused hands grip the backs of your thighs, forcing your legs apart just enough to make his intentions clear. 

“How ‘bout you feed me first, greedy girl?” He growls, possessively nuzzling his nose along the soft skin of your inner thigh. “I have a feeling I’m gonna need all my strength to help your stubborn ass work up a proper appetite.”

“Oo-okaay!” Your legs threaten to give out when Ari’s wide, flat tongue begins lapping at your damp flesh, making a show of savoring your sweet honey. He holds you in place while he feasts, his subtle use of strength letting you know that your only job was to keep still and submit to his sensual assault. 

“Mm...” Ari rumbles, enjoying every desperate little whine and whimper that makes its way past your lips. "Best meal I've had in days." Forgoing his need to breathe, he fully buries his head between your thighs, content to eat you from the back as if he had all the time in the world.

Which he did, especially now that make-up sex was once again back on the menu. 

END

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[pedgito]

MILLER'S GIRL ✎ SERIES MASTERLIST

Chapter Three: Forbidden Fruit

Chapter Summary: Mr. Miller receives your assignment in it's full detailed exposé and despite his reaction, doesn't seem as pleased as you anticipated. It leads to a tense interaction that lands you in his office with more questions and confusion. [4k]

[student/teacher relationship, age gap, no outbreak, power dynamic]

Chapter Warnings: fem!reader, professor!joel miller (his teacher persona is v different from outside of the classroom, so if he seems slightly ooc....close your eyes), dom!joel, sub!reader, reader is a little obsessed with joel (and delusional), background tess x joel, inappropriate relationships/actions, masturbation (m), confrontations, joel manhandling reader (kinda roughly), panty ripping, one (1) forbidden kiss

— AO3 | PLAYLIST | PINTEREST

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Joel takes the plunge into the assignments the following night—it was a small class so he knew it wouldn’t take a large chunk of time, a couple hours at the end of his day and he’d have it out of the way and grades posted before the following morning. It was always easier to do things this way, hidden away in his office to force his focus and block out the rest of what was going on. 

He flies through the assignments with a detailed precision, giving proper and full notes on things he thinks the students could work on or tweak, give some personal thoughts on creativity, and allow some encouragement where it was needed.

But, your name sits in the bottom of his inbox, bold lettered and unread—he saved it for last.

He could lie and say he didn’t do it on purpose, but he’s come to thoroughly enjoy your writing, so he pushes it off until it’s the final thing he has to grade that night. He knows Tess should be arriving home soon, so despite his want to give you his full, undivided attention—he intends to give it a quick skim.

Joel knows there’s no real notes he can give you. You always had a clear idea on your work, so meticulously planned out that it reminded him of himself in a way.

He takes a sip of the quickly dissipating bourbon in the cup sitting on his desk, ice clinking against the glass as he clicks on your essay and watches it expand onto the screen.

He likes to jot down his thoughts on paper as he goes, making it easier to format and type as he replies—he grips the pencil tight, reading the title of your essay.

                      ill-suited innocence 

In a crowd she finds herself searching, looking for him. Days and days of tense glances and inappropriate thoughts—he must share them too? While she can’t be bothered by the fantasy of mythical creatures and things that only made sense in fiction, she did believe in the fantasy of wanting what she couldn’t have. Him.

Much older, wiser—grim around the eyes and a deep sorrow that burrowed its way into his chest and made home. He couldn’t fix himself, but she could. At least, she thinks she could.

Joel straightened his back, leaning into the screen to assure himself he wasn’t misreading. It was…an interesting take on the assignment he gave you, but he’ll bite. He’s used to your stuff being a little more unorthodox. 

Something along the lines of forbidden fantasy? A tale of love? It wasn’t his particular choice of fiction but he wasn’t opposed to it. He squints, reading more.

He drops the pencil for a moment

Their lives mundane and unassuming, they traverse through life with little enjoyment. Two sides of the same coin and he was too oblivious to realize. He offered smiles and kind words, guidance that seemed from a good place but only allowed her to feel more misdirection. He was an enigma, difficult to decipher and she craved him.

And though he tries to fight whatever attraction he may feel, she can see it in his tense gaze. The lingering touches he leaves on her body. Secret meetings, talks that allowed themselves to be more deep than should be allowed. He was allowing her in little by little but she needed more.

She just had to ask, so she did.

Joel feels a tightening deep in his gut that wasn’t there before, reading between the lines of text and allowing faint glimpses of memories with you to match themselves with the words—his brow furrowing under the guise of…anger? No, frustration. He shouldn’t be equating his perfectly…appropriate relationship with you to this. In fact, it shouldn’t cross his mind. But, it does.

All of this from a dream? He could lie and say he wasn't intrigued, but that wasn't the case.

Joel doesn’t expect the full 180 turn as he glances down at the chunk of text that follows.

“You’re my student,” He whispers to her, “I can’t allow this.”

She bites at her lip, noticing the subtle click of his heels as they hit the floor, back them against his desk as she takes a seat, plastic cup full of pencils falling to the floor but neither of their eyes leaving each other.

“You can,” She encourages, “I’m hardly a student anymore. I’m a friend. We’re friends, right?”

And given his ability to let her in so easily, he also considered her a friend. Naively. He’s gotten himself into this position and he can’t find a reason to not give her what she wants—what he wants.

He captures her lips in a searing kiss, much less polite than a friend would, her fingers quickly undoing his belt—

Joel feels his cock hardening under the confines of his slacks, clearing his throat slightly. He should stop reading—he knows he should. The glaringly obvious lines being crossed are blurred for a moment. He shouldn’t have led you on like this, allowed you to cook up some depraved illusion of what you thought things could be.

Because they couldn’t. That wasn’t what this was. Joel had told himself over and over—he was helping. He didn’t think you’d take advantage of the scenario like this. Still, he finds himself loosening the buckle of his belt as well, unzipping his pants enough that he can stuff his hand into the tight space between his bare cock and briefs, palming himself impatiently.

And he skims—words sticking and fading in his mind. It starts of with a slow, sensual make out and a messily described handjob that has his cocking throbbing with every tight stroke he pulls at his shaft, eventually tired of fighting the tight space he’s allowed with his slacks making it impossible to move, he leans back and pulls his cock out far enough that he has free, unrestrained range. The bourbon glass leaves a sweat ring on the oak of his desk but Joel can’t be bothered, he scrolls down further, taking in the last few scenes that allowed him a full idea of just what exactly you thought was going on between the both of you. Or, what you wanted to happen.

He allows himself a moment to slip out of his headspace and imagine, selfishly.

Bent over the desk, items scattered to the floor he pulled at her skirt, something she wore necessarily—easy access, she whispered against his lips before he bent her fully over the desk, chest pressed against the solid wood.

Joel imagines it vividly, his breath quickening as he tugs at his cock in rough, fast strokes and pictures it—you, bent over his desk and your ass presented to him like a prize and how good it would feel to squeeze the flesh between his hands. He knows your sounds would be sweet, divine, and it drives him wild. 

He’s thought about you before like this, hand wrapped around his cock, but never in full detail as you’d written out.

And then he slips his cock inside of her, a small gasp of, “Just like that, professor.” falling from her lips and it only spurs Joel deeper into his despair, tugging himself until he feels his orgasm creeping up on him, a churning in his gut that feels too good to quit and he reads out the last few lines, as he comes deep inside of, recklessly and without much decision making.

He thought you were smarter than this. Expected more out of you.

There’s a creak of a floorboard down the hall that sends his world crashing down on him, dampening his orgasm almost immediately as he scrambles to shove himself back inside of his slacks, buttoning and buckling his belt hastily as he clicks out of his browsers and feigns exhaustion, Tess’s fingers curling around the doorknob as she peeks her head in, watching as Joel’s fingers circled the glass of liquor.

God, he hates her.

Not you. Tess.

He figured his reasoning was valid, but truthfully—he just couldn’t stand her any longer. He's been battling the decision to go through with his divorce, but this seemed like as big a sign as ever. It's the unbridled rage he was tired of harboring around her, trying to act like things were fine.

Nothing was fine and his life was imploding.

He was lusting after a student and worse, he know you were after him—actively, clear in the boldness you showed through your assignment. 

He thinks back briefly on the video call that he shouldn’t have allowed, your question that seemed…vague but unassuming. Had you planned this the entire time?

Was he just that stupid to not see it?

“Coming to bed tonight?” Tess asks hesitantly.

Joel offers a clear and concise, “No.”

He wasn’t sure if he could even sleep, contemplating over how to handle this…situation.

He couldn’t allow it to stray further.

It would damage his career and ruin his life.

But truthfully, he felt like he’d already reached that point, so what did he have to lose?

-

You wake up on Monday with a deep pit in your chest, knowing that grades were posted that morning. You knew it was a risk, being so open with him—but he couldn’t fail you. You followed the parameters of the assignment and made sure to clear the few questions you had with him.

Part of you is expecting another email from his private account, wondering his thoughts beyond what he would address appropriately. But, the moment your eyes drag along the screen, still blurry from sleep, you feel your heart stop.

0/100. A complete failure.

No comment besides—Rewrite and resend immediately. No extension. Due by the end of the day.

Your jaw clenches in frustration.

Oh, you were not being ignored that easily.

You storm into his room later that day during your free hour for lunch, knowing he’d be saddled up at his desk eating his own lunch. 

You couldn’t even think about eating, full of anger and annoyance that kept you full and ready to strike. He can hear your footsteps before you approach and is wiping at his mouth with a napkin when you stop at his desk.

He holds a hand up, face steely and emotionless.

For a moment, you think he might break. Crack a smile and say it was an excuse to get you here.

Instead, he has your essay printed out and ready to shove at you, your fingers curling around the stack and crinkling the edges. 

“You can’t fail me,” You start tensely, “I did your stupid assignment and I followed the steps you asked for.”

“I expect a new one by the end of the day. Appropriate to the topic. End of discussion.”

You scoff, not daring to look at the glaring zero he drew out on the paper just to prove a point. It lands in the trash as you throw it down, “No.”

Joel’s chair squeaks as he rises and it startles you slightly, and suddenly he’s invading your space, the muscles in his neck tightening as he pointed an accusatory finger at the trashed papers.

“In what situation did you think any of that was appropriate to write and send to your professor?” Joel asks, noting the way you blink quickly, backing away slightly.

He almost…feels bad? No. He quickly wipes the thought away as more anger crosses your face, eyes dilating in rage.

You lean in slightly, thankful that the halls were quiet around this time of day and that you had closed the door behind you. 

“You started this,” You argue, “You crossed that line when you messaged me on a private email. Telling me that you liked the time we spent together. I’m your student—maybe you should’ve taken that into account first.”

His fist clenched at his side, almost to restrain himself, knowing he’d rather shove that finger into your chest and blame you. But, you were both to blame. And he even more so. Still, he doubles down.

“Rewrite it or I’ll fail you for the entire semester.”

Your mouth gapes open, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. 

“That’s…completely unfair.” You settle, voice softer as you drop the act. “I just—”

“Rewrite it.” Joel responds firmly.

“Mr. Miller—” You begin, trying to find a feasible way to get him to listen.

“Or I fail you.” He says with finality. “You’re lucky I don’t take this to the board.”

Which, he never would. He’s just as much at fault. But, he’s taking his frustration out on you. An easy target, slim pickings. 

You weren’t playing into that though, not now.

“You won’t,” You challenge him, “because if you do—I can assure you, you won’t appreciate the results.”

It was a threat. Cold and plain.

“Rewrite it,” He reiterates again, his voice softer now. “I have to submit these assignments at the end of the semester and if—that cannot be in there. I need a real essay. Real. Not some fucking delusion.”

It’s the first time he’s talked so…out of term. It feels like him, the real Mr. Miller.

Fine—you’ll write the goddamn essay as he intended. You roll your eyes and Joel relaxes slightly, seeing your defeat as you settle your shoulders back.

“I want it on my desk by the end of day.”

Sure, you could manage that.

If anything, it gave you more of an excuse to drag out his torture a little longer.

-

You spend the entirety of his class working out a new essay, bullshitting your way through an hour of class and typing up something feasible enough to get you a decent grade, knowing that his views of you were already tainted. But, that didn’t matter. 

You had plans.

When evening rolls around and classes are finally done for the day, you make the long trek across campus to his class, finding it empty but spotting the light in his private office is still on, a low and muted orange that shined through the window. You approach slowly and knock on the door, hearing his muffled greeting on the other side.

You peek inside, noting his position as he rests with his fist pressed against the side of his face, seemingly nursing a headache as he rubs the fingers of his free hand over his forehead and sighs, closing his laptop as you hold out the small stack of papers for him to grab. He does, skimming through it briefly. You toss your bag off your shoulder and rest it in a nearby chair, standing quietly.

“Something bothering you?” You ask politely, hands crossed over your front as fiddled idly with your fingers, “Mr. Miller?”

He looks up tensely, eyes darkened and foreboding.

“What did you mean earlier?” He asks suddenly, reading your essay with a careful eye. Scribbling something down before he pushes it away, fingers clasped together under his chin as he gives you his full attention. “That I wouldn’t…appreciate the results?”

“Oh, that was—”

A threat. He knows it. You know it.

And he voices it.

“It was a threat, wasn’t it?” He asks coarsely, his voice sounding rough. 

He seemed worse for wear, with good reason.

The dignified squeak of his chair is like deja-vu but you don’t back away this time, turning to him as he rounds his desk—his tie is gone, starch pressed shirt unbuttoned to a dangerous degree and his belt is missing, your eyes tracking it in a nearby corner where it’s slung over an empty chair. 

He allowed you in here, the small glimpse of his relaxed state. He wasn’t shutting you out necessarily, which was good. But, you still felt unwanted. It was almost like he was dangling a myriad of fruit in front of you, ripe for the taking, but riddled with poison. Forbidden.

“No—”

He grabs your wrist suddenly, tight and gasp-inducing as he pulls it up until it’s level between you both, right at chest level and you’re waiting for him to let go, but he doesn’t.

“Tell. The. Truth.” He says pointedly, a small jerk of your arm with every syllable as he pulls you undoubtedly closer, “I want to hear it.”

Instead of admitting that you did openly threaten him, you switch gears.

“What? That I want you to fuck me?” You ask innocently, pulling your wrist away harshly. “Joel, come on—don’t act like you haven’t thought about it.”

His name is like a gut-punch, a reminder that he gave you that information under the idea that you would keep it safe, but now you were using it against him.

“Don’t—” He warns and your hands press into his crisp button-up, scrunching the fabric in an effort to wrinkle it, feeling the solid press of muscle under your hands that makes your mouth water, eyes widening slightly at the touch and for a split second, he allows it.

He had to escape the situation before he acted on something he would regret.

“Get out.” Joel responds through gritted teeth, shoving your hands away harshly and in turn, forcing you back a few steps with the urgency of it. “Now.”

Still, you step closer, chest against chest as you can feel the distinct bulge in his slacks against your front, tongue clicking in your mouth as you cocked your head to the side mockingly, a finger tracing along the buttons of his shirt until you can curl the tip of it around the hem of his pants.

“You can do it, you know,” You offer, “You could fuck me right now and I wouldn’t tell a soul, not even your wife—or…ex-wife? I’m not sure since you never wear your ring.”

Fuck this and her smart ass mouth, Joel thinks.

Joel’s nostrils flare and he snaps, backing you into the wall by his hand pressed against your chest, the bookshelf beside you shaking with the force. His hands creep up your neck, pressing rigid against the skin and he keeps you there, trapped.

“I can feel it,” You tease through strained vocal cords, his finger squeezing against your neck–not quite cutting off air flow, but the pressure is there and you feel it. It makes your head swim, squirming against his hold as he shifts closer, body pressed against your own firmly, “is that why you asked me to turn the paper in by the end of the day? You wanted me here, didn’t you? I guess my essay did strike a nerve after all.”

The laugh that follows is sickening, a grin appearing under his sneer. His fingers move up a few inches to grip your face. Hard. Squeezing until he feels the solid press of your cheekbones under his thumb and he speaks, so quietly into the space you can barely hear him, “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Your eyes drift to his, his head tilting up slightly away from your ear that he had whispered into and there’s glint in your eye. It’s exactly what you wanted. You wanted to burrow yourself under his skin so he couldn't get rid of you.

He feels your fingers continue to trace along the seam of his shirt, tracing over the bumps of the material until you meet his slacks, pressing your palm flat over his cock, hardened under the material and straining–and he can’t help the way his breath intakes sharply, the full body restraint it takes to not rut into your hand. He knows he has the upper hand here, but with the small amount of effort it takes to break his revere for himself, he doesn’t know how much longer he can keep this up.

“I would,” You nod slowly, eyebrows furrowing as he tightens his grip with your admittance and in turn, you squeeze him just a little harder. He hisses and leans in, letting go of your face to return to your neck–he isn’t squeezing this time, but his hand is a solid presence. You move, he moves. And if he doesn’t like how you move, you would end up exactly where he wants you to, “Come on, Joel. You read all about it. I can do so much more than whatever your wife is doing—isn’t that why you reached out to me?”

“Don’t—stop saying my name.” He warns, trying to keep what little line of professionalism he had between you there, unblurred. “I reached out to help. As your mentor.”

“Well, I’m sure there’s a few things you could teach me.” You say sweetly, the deft sound of his zipper being undone by your hand, popping the button on his pants, “Joel, please.”

He stops your hand in it’s decent, fingers tracing along the hem of his underwear before he’s gripping your arm and turning you with little resistance on your end, front pressed harshly against the stucco wall, a sharp gasp emitting from your throat as he crowds you in again, whispering harshly into your ear, “Mr. Miller. Not Joel. You don’t get that privilege. And stop talking about my fucking wife.”

You moan brokenly at the feeling of his cock pressed against your ass, skirt riding up your thighs and you were sure—positive that Joel could see the fabric of your underwear clinging to your hips from how high up and mused your skirt was now, but he can’t take his eyes of your face, anger emitting from his own and suffocating you like a blanket.

You were pressing his buttons just right and he hated it.

“So, no marital troubles then?” You pester him and he shuts you up immediately, palm covering your mouth tightly as his free hand grips at the hem of your underwear at your hip and tugs—yep, he saw them. Some soft color, all lacy, meant to be attention-grabbing. And if Joel couldn’t have you the way he truly desires, he’d make you wish you could have it even worse than he wanted it. “You—huh, you can’t even wear your wedding ring, Mr. Miller—don’t lie to me.”

He pulls at the material of your panties until they’re riding up your ass slightly, pulled tighter against your cunt and the drag of the material against your clit is almost unexpected. He’s pointedly avoiding touching you so intimately, teetering on the edge of not enough and too much.

“You thought it would be that easy?” Joel asks testingly, jerking your head slightly when you don’t answer. You figured it was redundant but clearly not. You mumble against his hand, overwhelmed by his touch that all you can do is nod, forehead pressed against the wall as he breathes down your neck. “You’re mistaken.”

There’s a distinct rip of fabric as he removes his hand from your mouth quickly using his hands to grip your panties in tight fists, tearing it apart as it falls from your body and you think he might just do it—shove his slacks just far enough down his thighs and slip inside of you, bring an end to all of your suffering.

And his own.

Instead his fingers tighten around your forearm, spinning you in his hold and shoving the ripped fabric into your hand, leaving you bare under your skirt and exposed and Joel doesn’t mistake the wetness on the material. His fingers linger over your palm and you scoff, adjusting your skirt and slightly skewed shirt.

“Keep them,” You challenge, shoving the material into his chest before he allows them to drop to the floor, eyes trailing your departing figure as you reach for your discarded bag, “a gift for your wife—you know, the one who you avoided to spend time with me. Right?”

You want the words to linger and sting, bag slung lazily around your shoulder as you depart for the door, ignoring the quickly approaching footsteps. Joel, unbeknownst to you, had already pocketed your panties, torn to shreds in the pocket of his slacks. But, the words cut deep and he can’t leave things like this and allow you the final word.

Joel yanks the strap of your bag and backs you against the office door, the wood rattling against your conjoined weight as his lips press against yours in haste, messy and uncoordinated but your brain quickly assess what’s happening and joins, your lips parting to allow his eager tongue into your mouth. His kiss is biting and furious, mean and full of nothing but tense emotion. It’s months of suffocated lust pouring into you, out of him, and you swallow it down eagerly. His hand holds your chin forcefully, sloppy exchanges of spit and forceful bites, a battle for dominance that Joel quickly won out on.

And you think that maybe that comment was the final straw, that he might just give you what you want, but your delicate moan that slips into his mouth as chase him, his head pulling back slightly at the noise—it had him falling back to reality, right on his ass.

There wasn’t any line left to cross anymore. He’d obliterated it.

“Don’t threaten me again,” He warns, “ever.”

There’s one solid shove against the door as your head hits the surface gently, his touch quickly dissipating and his disheveled appearance a tell-tale sign in your mind. He was fighting his own battle and losing terribly.

“Of course,” You agree sardonically, “Mr. Miller.”

The silent click of the door is deafening and Joel retreats to his desk, punching a fist into the solid wood, the papers of your assignment flying to the floor. He can't be bothered to pick them up or even allow them the proper glance they deserve.

Because you—in his mind, don't deserve it.

And he's not going to give you that satisfaction.

It's unprofessional, but he'll allow it this once. It only takes a few quick clicks and he's adjusting the assignment out for your new one.

Poof. Gone. Like it never existed.

But, the grade is unchanging and he knows that will make things tremendously worse, but he can't be bothered to care anymore.

You'd be back and that's exactly what he wants.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller smut #professor!joel miller #tlou fanfic #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller fanfiction #my writing #pedro pascal characters

[galesleftearring]

Thinking about how sadly realistic Gale's romance arc is right now, and how in different ways this applies to each of the BG3 companions but especially his:

His whole life he's been told or felt for some reason or another that what he has to offer isn't *quite* enough. That being himself is not going to earn him love and companionship, and that those are things that he has to earn in the first place. Even his cat and his mother, who he clearly adores, have not managed to dissuade him from this.

Then he falls for this goddess; she is quite literally everything to him. She is his muse, the literal magic running through his veins. He *worships* her. And she takes his love, because it's flattering or it's there or it's something to do, and gives him very little in return. She certainly doesn't love him. She just loves the control, and he doesn't know the difference.

And then this inevitably collapses, this love built in hubris and self depreciation, and he is left feeling hopeless. Who could love him as he is when nobody else has been able to? Willing to? Surely the problem must be *him.* Surely the things he wants--companionship, adoration, reciprocity--just aren't things he can have. Or maybe they just don't exist.

Then he meets the player, and he finds himself falling again into these desires and he's scared, he's so scared, because he's now living on borrowed time and as much as he wants to give himself to Tav and have them give themselves back, why would they? Why would this person be different from every other form of love he has ever known? And on top of it all, who would want to pledge themselves to a dying man?

Monogamy isn't for everyone and that's fine but it is for him. He wants to give of himself completely and for that to be reciprocated, he wants to love deeply and truly and completely. He wants to find home in another person and give that person a home within himself. He has to wait until he's sure that he's safe, or until he's sure he's unsafe enough that it doesn't matter--his last night, at least he can die knowing he *tried,* Godsdamnit, and if he wasn't enough in life then maybe he can be enough in death.

But Tav loves him. Simple and ordinary and selfless, or incredibly selfish--not wanting him to martyr himself if they could just keep him there with them, keep loving him. They have taken the broken pieces of this man and said that those broken pieces are enough. They don't want to fix him and don't want him to fix them. They have taken his hand in theirs and given him the love that they have. No more, no less. No grand illusion, just themselves.

But he can't quite believe it, because why would he be enough now if he never has been before? So he tries to earn Tav's love, tries to give them what he *could* be, what he wants to try to be for Tav, what he'll never stop trying to be if it earns Tav's love. Love is transactional. And Tav says no, you were already enough, and I want from you what you want from me. Companionship, togetherness, just us, just me, just you. How could he believe it? How could he truly fall into this steady rhythm of everyday love?

When someone is used to transactional love, how do they learn to accept unconditional love?

#screams into the void #bg3 gale #gale dekarios #wizard of waterdeep #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #baldur's gate #gale

[oozedninjas]

How do you think the 07 boys would react if the reader died? Like in an accident or killed by shredder or sm? just food for thoughts

They say there are five stages of grief...

Leonardo will blame himself for it no matter how you die. Did you get sick? He's a ninja. He should have noticed the symptoms as soon as they appeared! Did the Shredder kill you? God, that's his worst nightmare. Because it not only means he failed as a partner, but he also failed as the leader of the team you belonged to. He couldn't protect you, and he can never forgive himself for that.

Denial

There must be some way to rebound it. His mind flashes from here to there, and Leo considers possibilities that in a normal situation would seem delusional. Could Donatello build a time machine? There must be some way to reverse it. There must be. It can't be that you're just... gone.

2. Anger

It's a sheer tough situation because even though he would want to fight recklessly, with no regard for himself, Leo has to be strong for others and continue playing his role as leader and older brother. So he bottles up his feelings; buries them deep until they slowly rot inside him.

When he faces the Shredder again, he notices that there is something different, and for the first time in decades, Shredder fears he may not win. I think Leo would also become rougher with low-ranked criminals, hitting harder than necessary. The terrifying part? It's always perfectly calculated.

Also, his brothers resent his anger during training because he becomes tougher and more demanding. However, it's only because Leo can't afford to lose anyone else. He wouldn't be able to bear it.

3. Bargaining

He should at least be able to compensate your family. Friends. Anyone who loved you as much as he did. Thinking about doing things for people who were close to you brings him a kind of comfort that appeases his anger. It's a way of trying to regain a sense of control over the situation and find a way to cope with his pain.

4. Depression

He'll never again feel the tender caress of your fingertips over his shell, the warmth of your lips pressed against his own, or the sweet melody of your laughter echoing through the lair. The realization grips his heart with an ironclad vice, suffusing his spirit. It's a devastating blow that rends his very soul asunder.

5. Acceptance

But you wouldn't want him to be sad forever. No, in fact, Leo is sure you'd be insisting that he needs to move on. It was okay to feel, to be upset and cry along the way, but it was time to get up. Master Splinter plays a very important role in how Leo slowly recovers himself. One step at a time.

Donatello: It depends on how you die, but I believe what could drive him insane is if he loses you slowly due to an illness. That would be his personal hell because no matter how hard he tries to change things, researching new methods, creating medications, even biotechnology... nothing seems to yield results. Isn't he supposed to be a genius? What's the point of intellect if it can't use it to save you?!

Denial

"With this cryogenic capsule, I can keep her body intact a little longer," he tells your loved ones, who stare at him, paralyzed by the desperation in his eyes. "I can fix this. I can- I just need more time." But a person is not a machine, and your loved ones did not allow him to experiment.

A machine! That's it! Donatello made a copy of your memory and some parts of your consciousness before your departure; perhaps he could put that into a robot and somehow... maybe with enough effort and the right wires...

2. Anger

It worked, and yet it failed miserably. This thing in front of him looked like you, sounded like you, shared some memories, and yet, it felt utterly empty. How could he insult your memory out of his own desperation?

Donatello smashed his Bo staff into the control center, piercing it completely. He trembled a little as he continued to hold it, buried in the circuits. That night there was a blackout in the lair, and all that could be heard from the lab was the grinding of teeth.

3. Bargaining

It happened to you, but perhaps with all the research and testing, Donatello could prevent someone else from going through the same thing. So, he decided to sell his investigation, using a pseudonym and a couple of computer skills made it no problem to do it all from the lair. For him, it's like gradually adapting to the reality of his loss through these small actions.

4. Depression

To think that a robot could replace you. What the hell was he thinking? Your scent, the softness of your skin, the beautiful way you looked at him when discussing a new discovery, that could never be replicated. The lab, like his heart, felt terribly empty. It was a feeling as suffocating as it was overwhelming: knowing that you would never be there again, that he couldn't see or hear you anymore. Suddenly, he can't breathe.

Burying himself in his work keeps his mind occupied. He doesn't need sleep; he needs to progress with the research. Donatello escapes from every little space that could allow you to somehow appear in his mind.

5. Acceptance

April helped a lot in this part, as she was the one who started bringing you into the conversation with positive things, and Don has small spaces to feel shared nostalgia. April feels the same loss; she understands, and that is extremely comforting.

Over time, the feeling of emptiness left by your memory transitions to a bittersweet sensation, and gradually he allows himself to move forward, remembering you with a smile, with a fondness that embraces him from the bottom of his heart. Donatello learned that every minute counts, and for that reason, he now makes space to spend more time with the people he loves, and who love him in return.

#this is too long!! #gonna make another post for Mikey and Raph #sorry!!! #tmnt 2007 #tmnt leo 2007 #tmnt donatello 2007 #tmnt 2k7 #tmnt leo x reader #tmnt donnie x reader #tmnt donatello #tmnt leonardo #tmnt leonardo x reader #tmnt donatello x reader #tmnt 2007 donnie #tmnt 2007 leo #tmnt #leo tmnt #donnie tmnt #tmnt x reader #tmnt x y/n #tmnt x you

[pochipop]

＃FNAF MOVIE !! ♡ — IT'LL BE ALRIGHT (MIKE SCHMIDT X READER).

#. synopsis! — mike is used to walking on eggshells, just waiting for another tragedy, and you really don’t want to be just another person who's let him down.

#. characters! — mike schmidt .

#. warnings! — vague references to past traumatic events (canon compliant) , references to a verbal argument .

#. word count! — 1.8k .

#. alt accounts! — @ddollipop (nsfw) @hhoneypop (moodboards) .

#. others! — navigation & masterlist .

Mike is used to people leaving. They come and they go like stray cats who've found someone better to nab food off of, —leaving him with more ghosts in his life than he'd care to admit. At least these ones are metaphorical and melodramatic, though. His saving grace has been the fact that he chooses wisely who to introduce Abby to, just in case. She's been through enough, and she's so young that the absence of anyone would be duly noted. Not that it isn't when it comes to himself, it's just. . . He's learned how to live with loss. Maybe not effectively, but he does it, and for right now, that's probably as good as it's getting.

He's got more pressing matters to attend to. He always does. That's what he argued about with you, —what he fought tooth and nail to defend, even when you backed off. At the end of it, he knew he'd gone too far for no real reason. He wasn't arguing with you at that point, he was arguing with all the people that have left him starved for their affections and their care. The words he said to you were so far beyond your scope that it was almost pathetic to think about all the bullshit he unloaded on you like it was somehow your job to fix it, even when he knew it wasn't. So really, it's no wonder he's adding you to that list of people who've walked away.

For once, he truly deserved it. 

And now he's got to explain this to Abby. Because she likes you almost as much as he does, —almost being the operative word there. Mike sucks at a lot of things, and showing you he cares tends to be one of them, but he loves in his own ways. . . And now, he fears he'll have to do it from afar.

He sort of wishes Abby was the kind of kid he could bribe with ice cream for breakfast to break bad news to. It'd be easier to scoop her some off-brand Neopolitan and tell her she'd never see you again if that would help soften the blow. But it won't, and he knows that. He knows her too well to even try.

Still, he finds himself putting chocolate chips in her pancakes that morning in spite of himself.

When he places the plate in front of her, she narrows her eyes, as if to ask him what he's done so wrong. . . Asking what he's offering silent apologies for in the form of sweet pockets stolen away inside her favorite breakfast food. He opens the fridge in search of orange juice just to avoid her gaze.

Before she can even take a bite, he opens his mouth.

"Listen, Abby—"

She looks up at him with those big, doe eyes, and he probably would have cut himself off anyway if not for the knock on the front door. Mike mumbles for her to hold that thought, then goes to check who's outside.

And there you stand a little awkwardly on his doorstep, a brand new bottle of orange juice in your hand. Once again, it's like you've read his mind, and he's as sick of it as he is thankful for it, especially right now. Still, he can't turn you away.

"Morning," you say, almost hesitantly. "I brought juice. . ."

He tries to think of something to say, but hears the quick pitter-patter of Abby's feet fastly approaching. She calls your name so happily, and you smile at her.

"Good morning to you too," you laugh, returning the hug she gives you with no hesitation.

Mike just stares, as if he can't believe you're even here right now. If you're just here to grab the items of yours strewn about his house, he feels like the least you could have done was wait until Abby was asleep or something.

"Can I have some?" Abby asks, pointing to the orange juice in your hand.

"Yeah, that's what it's for," you smile, handing the bottle to her.

She scurries off to the kitchen to pour herself a glass.

"Mike," you say softly now that she's out of earshot, "can we—"

"I'll get your stuff together," he cuts you off.

Your jaw slacks.

"What?" Is the only thing you can manage to muster up in response.

"You could've done this at a different time," he snaps, trying to keep quiet so Abby doesn't hear. "It's gonna be ten times harder on her now for me to explain why you're not coming back."

You stare at him, trying not to cry. Out of all the things you expected to happen this morning, such a drastic change of heart on his part wasn't one of them.

"You. . . You're breaking up with me?" You question.

He pauses, a lot of the frustration dissipating from his features, replaced by genuine confusion.

"Didn't you already break up with me?" He asks.

Your brows knit together quizzically. 

"No? What are you even talking about, I never said I wanted to break up with you," you point out.

Sure, you didn’t say it. But most of the others had never said it either. It was like flipping a lightswitch. One minute they were there, and the next they weren’t. That's why he'd gotten so good at keeping his relationships at a distance, and he'd taken the biggest leap of faith in introducing you to his sister.

"Yesterday evening?" He says, but it sounds more like a question.

"We had an argument," you acknowledge. "It was stupid, and you hurt my feelings. I'm sure I hurt yours too. That doesn't mean I want us to be over."

Mike stares at you like he's not sure what to say, because he isn't. He's not used to someone caring enough to fight for him, and for what festers between himself and someone else. He's learned to let go before the thread pulls too tight, —before it wraps around his throat and slices through every defense he's built up for the sake of protecting himself, his heart, and the little girl that depends on him.

"Mike," you say softly, almost cautiously. "I care about you. One bad night doesn't change that. . . Not for me."

God, it was stupid. It was so stupid. You weren't even mad at him specifically, and you're fairly certain he wasn't really angry with you in particular either. Long days on both your parts collided like a warm front to a cold one, and the things both of you said in the wake of it were uttered through venom and gritted teeth. Sweeping generalizations, a lot of rolling eyes, some tears that were more about frustration than they were anything else. . . But you still loved him at the end of it, even as you found yourself walking home alone.

In fact, that walk was particularly sobering. The crisp chill of the autumn evening was enough to convince you that you'd rather be back at his place where he keeps an extra toothbrush for you in the bathroom and emptied out a drawer just so you could have a place to store some clothes. The sleep you got in the night that followed was shallow at best, restless enough to leave faint bags beneath your eyes by morning, and you were determined to make up any excuse in the book just to swing by.

So you went out and got some orange juice, knowing there wasn't any left in the fridge, and you stood outside his door for a while, working yourself up just to knock. You thought about all the things you'd need to apologize for, and you were ready to push aside your ego if it meant Mike could understand just how much you care, even when you're upset.

He swallows, just to give himself something to do while he prolongs his own response, because he's just not sure what to say. Somehow, a part of him is whispering that this would be easier if you just didn't give a fuck. . . If last evening was the end, and he could go back to finding comfort in silence again.

That's how it's always been. Someone leaves, and he copes, and then he files them away with the rest. But here you are, and Mike knows he can't bring himself to put you in with the others.

"Mike, I'm—"

"No, I am," he breathes, reaching forward to pull you into his arms. "I'm sorry that I hurt your feelings, and I'm sorry that I suck at being a boyfriend, but I don't know what I'm doing and all I can tell you is that I'm trying."

He feels the tension meld away from you, and it's then, before you even open your mouth to reply, that he starts to think everything is how it should be.

"You don't suck at it," you answer lightly. "I know you're trying, and that's genuinely all I could ask for, and I'm sorry about yesterday evening. I was in a bad mood, and I took it out on you, and that wasn't right."

"We both took shit out on each other," he corrects, ready and willing to share the blame.

"True enough," you acknowledge with a weary smile, finally pulling away from his embrace.

"I'm sorry," he says again. "When things go wrong, I. . . I've just learned how to slam on the breaks. If I stop things before they feel like they'll suffocate me, I can avoid them. But I love you, and I know I don't want to avoid that."

"This isn't a one way street," you remind him. "Relationships are hard, and sometimes things happen in a way that they shouldn't, but I'm here for you, and I want to be here for you. . . It's not contractual. One bad night doesn't take away all the times you've made me feel like the happiest person on the face of the planet, Mike."

He sniffles a little, then lets out a relieved sigh.

"Are you hungry?" He asks. "I can make you some pancakes. Chocolate chip."

You raise an eyebrow.

"Chocolate chip? Are you apologizing to Abby for something?"

God, a part of him hates that he's so obvious, but another part loves that you know him so well. It makes him feel even stupider for just assuming that you'd be willing to throw in the towel after one rough night.

"No, not really," he shakes his head. (Not anymore, at least.)

Mike glances toward the kitchen, just to make sure Abby's still preoccupied with her breakfast, then steals a quick kiss from your lips.

"I'm sorry," he says again.

You smile.

"Me too."

"And I love you," he adds.

Your smile widens.

"I love you too. Promise."

With that, he pulls you to the kitchen, and you sit down beside Abby at the table. She tells you that when breakfast is done with, she'd like to show you some new drawings she's done, and you nod, telling her you're excited to see them. And you are.

Mike stands at the stovetop, his back to the both of you, not bothering to bite back his grin. 

He feels his foot ease off the break.

#fnaf movie #fnaf #fnaf movie mike #mike schmidt #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt x you #mike schmidt fnaf #mike schmidt imagine #michael schmidt #micheal schmidt #abby schmidt #abby fnaf #fnaf x reader #fnaf movie x reader #five nights at freddys #reverse comfort #mike schimdt x reader #mike schmidt reverse comfort

[once-upon-an-imagine]

Everything Has Changed - Sirius Black

A/N: I am loving these requests and they are slowly making me come out of my writer’s block so... here’s another one! I loved this request and I tried to write it as she fell first but he fell harder xD hope you loves like it!  

Request - Anonymous asked: Okay since you’re not in the mood for Charlie Weasley, can you please do Sirius x Lupin!reader where he sees her for the first time since graduating Hogwarts (maybe at Jily’s wedding?) and he is just starstruck? Like, love at first sight starstruck and Remus is just like; really Pads, my baby sister?? Thanks!!

Warnings: none that I can think of but let me know if you find something :) it’s pure fluff!

Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter :D gif isn’t mine :)    

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Everything Has Changed

'Cause all I know is we said, "Hello" And your eyes look like comin' home All I know is a simple name And everything has changed

“Moony! Would you hurry up? If we’re late Lily will kill us and she would say it’s my fault!” Sirius argued as he tried fixing his bowtie.

“I’m almost done! Plus, my sister’s meeting us here. She should be close!” he yelled from his room.

“Little Moon’s coming?” Sirius muttered to himself as he tried to succeed with his bowtie.

Sirius’ relationship with Remus’ little sister as you had been known your entire Hogwarts year, was no different from James’ or Peter’s. At least for him. He saw you like that. A little sister. He felt very protective of you, but that was pretty much it. It was mostly because you were a quiet, shy girl that tried to stay out of trouble. Which is why he called you Little Moons. He thought it was extremely clever when you started at Hogwarts and you secretly loved it. He scared assholes away from you. You tutored him in some classes, even if you were a year younger. And you had a very platonic-like relationship. He hadn’t seen you in about a year now, since he graduated Hogwarts. He knew you had been back for about a month now, but still hadn’t been able to meet with you. And then, he heard a knock on the door.

“That must be her! Could you get it, Pads?” he hear Remus from his room again. Sirius sighed frustrated, giving up on fixing his tie and he ran his hands through his hair before walking over to the door. But when he opened it, he did not find the Little Moons he knew.

“Sirius!” you smiled brightly up at him. Sirius was completely starstruck when he saw you, standing there, all ready for the wedding, looking incredibly beautiful. He was snapped out of his thoughts when you threw his arms around his shoulders and he quickly wrapped his around your waist. “It’s so good to see you” you smiled, pulling away and kissing his cheek.

This wasn’t an unusual interaction between the two of you. You were pretty close back in school. But something had changed, and Sirius felt it.

“L-little Moons” he chuckled, still with his arms around your waist. “It’s good to see you too, love” he said, kissing your head. “It’s been so long” he smiled. You felt butterflies in your stomach. The same way you did every single time Srius looked at you. “Y-you look-”

“‘Bout bloody time you got here, bug!”

The two of you jumped apart when Remus came out of his room and ran your way to give you a big hug.

“Right, because you two look like you’re ready to leave? Sirius hasn’t even fixed his tie” you laughed. “And your hair is a mess!” you said, running a hand through Remus’ hair.

“I’m almost done” he rolled his eyes, walking into the bathroom.

“Do you need help with that?” you asked Sirius, who was once again struggling with his tie.

“I-” he sighed. “Would you mind?”

“Come here” you said, as he got closer and you started fixing his tie. “So, best man” you smirked. “You excited about today?”

“Yeah” he admitted. “I can’t believe Prongs is getting married” he told you.

“I can’t believe it’s to Lily” you chuckled. “For a minute there, I was sure she was going to murder him” you said, making him laugh a little. “But I will admit they are really cute together” you said as you finished fixing his tie. “All done” you said, smiling at him.

“Thanks, love” he smiled.

“James really picked the best man for the job” you smiled at him.

“Seriously, bug?” Remus said, appearing again. “You’re just going to say out loud that Sirius is better than me?” he asked, offended.

“Yeah, that was never a secret” you smirked, crossing your arms and earning a glare from your brother.

“Yeah, I’ve always been Little Moon’s favorite” Sirius said, throwing his arm around your shoulders.

“I forgot how I’ve always hated the two of you together” Remus said, rolling his eyes as the three of you left for the wedding.

Sirius had no idea what’s been going on with him today. Every now and then, his eyes decided to find you in the crowd during the ceremony. He intently tried to shake off the thought of you walking down the aisle in a white dress, when Lily came down the aisle. And now, he was just sitting at his table, drink in his hand, glaring at the way that you were laughing at Frank Longbottom’s joke. Frank isn’t even that funny. And Frank is with Alice. And why would he give a fuck about who you decide to laugh with?

“So, looking for your pick of the night?”

Sirius jumped a little when you sat down next to him. He hadn’t even noticed when you left Frank and were now back.

“W-what? What are you talking about?” he chuckled, nervously.

“Come on, Black, this was our thing. You always said I was your best wingman” you smirked.

It was true. Your relationship with Sirius even came to the point when you even helped him with girls. Over the years you had become extremely good at hiding your feelings for him, so much as to be considered his wingman.

“Oh, r-right” he chuckled. “Well, not today, love” he smiled.

“Are you sure? There are a bunch of pretty ladies here” you told him.

“Are you trying to get rid of me?”

“Yes, wasn’t it obvious?” you asked, making him laugh a little.

“So” he cleared his throat. “W-what about you? Looking for someone today?”

“Me? No” you chuckled, feeling your cheeks burn a little. “I’ve had enough of that for a while” you said, looking down.

“What do you mean?” he asked, confused.

“Remus didn’t tell you?” you asked, looking back at him. “Why I moved back here again?” you asked and he shook his head no. “I… kind of just broke up with someone” you told him.

“What? You were dating someone?” he asked, trying to ignore the feeling of jealousy inside of him.

“Don’t say it like that, Sirius. I am only a year younger than you” you glared at him, laughing.

“N-no, I didn’t mean it like that, I just… well, I didn’t know” he said, trying to play it cool.

“Yeah, not many people knew” you told him. “Anyways we broke up right before we graduated” you told him. “We had very different ideas of the future” you said. “He wanted to get married right away and have kids and I just… don’t think I’m ready for that” you told him.

“Really?”

“Well, not now, at least. I think it’s great that James and Lily got married, but there are so many things I want to do before I… settle down, I guess” you informed him.

“Now you sound like me, love” he chuckled.

“Well, because you make sense, Siri” you said, making him stop laughing. It had been a long time since you called him that. You were the only one he ever allowed to call him that. “S-sorry, I know you hate it when I call you that-”

“No, I don’t” he insisted. “I hate when other people call me that. But not you” he smiled sweetly at you. “And for what is worth, that guy sounds like a prick” he said, making you laugh.

“You don’t even know who he was” you told him as he took a sip of his drink.

“Doesn’t matter. Having someone as amazing as you and just letting her go? He’s a real idiot” he said, looking you straight in the eyes and placing his hand under your chin so you would pay attention to him. “You never settle for anyone who doesn’t treat you like the amazing person that you are, okay?”

You felt warmth in your heart. Sirius rarely talked about things that really matter with you, but whenever he did, you knew he always meant it. “Okay, Siri” you smiled as he kissed your forehead.

At last… My love has come along

“Well, look at that” he said when the next song started. “I believe that’s your favorite song” he smiled.

My lonely days are over And life is like a song

“Y-you remember that?” you chuckled.

“Of course, I do” he said, standing up and offering his hand to you. “May I have this dance, love?”

At last The skies above are blue My heart was wrapped up in clover The night I looked at you

Your smile got so bright that Sirius was unable to deny the butterflies he felt in his stomach too as you placed your hand in his and he walked you to the dance floor. Sirius brought you closer, holding your hand with his and wrapping his free arm around your waist and you quickly rested your head on his chest. This was a dream come true for you. The little girl inside you that had been in love with Sirius Black since you met was screaming inside of you right now. All those times being his wingman all you truly wanted was for him to see you as someone other than ‘Little Moons’. You didn’t mind the nickname. But you hated what it meant. That’s what you were to him. Moony’s little sister. But right here, and right now, it felt as if you two were the only people in the world.

I found a thrill to press my cheek to A thrill that I've never known, oh, yeah, yeah

“Merlin, would you look at that?” Lily said to her new husband.

“What?” James asked confused and Lily gently directed his face to where you were dancing with Sirius. “Oh, shit!” he said about to make his way over there but Lily quickly stopped him.

“What are you doing?”

“Stopping whatever this is!” he complained. “Moony is gonna kill Padfoot if he sees this!”

“What? Them dancing?”

“Yes! Little Moon’s off-limits! We all know that! And trust me, out of the three of us, I think Sirius would be the last one Remus would want for her!”

“James, first of all, they’re dancing! And secondly, I don’t know… something about Sirius seems… different” Lily told him. James looked back at the two of you and then he saw it too. Sirius expression when he looked at you was something that he had never seen before on his best friend.

You smiled, you smiled Oh, and then the spell was cast And here we are in Heaven For you are mine at last

“Y-you know, don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m actually kind of glad you broke up with your idiot ex” he said, making you look up at him.

“You are?”

“Yeah, that means you’re back here and we’ll get to see each other more often” he smiled.

“Huh, if I didn’t know any better, Siri, it sounds like you want to ask me out on a date” you smirked at him but it fell when you noticed his expression turning nervous.

“What if I was?” he asked, clearing his throat and you laughed a little, waiting for him to finish his joke.

“You, Sirius Black, want to go on a date with m-me?” you chuckled nervously. “L-little Moons?”

“If that’s okay with you, yes” he smiled but you pulled away a little and he hated when your expression turned to a frown.

“Sirius, that’s not funny” you told him.

“Good, because I’m not joking” he said, pulling towards him again. “Look, I know that I was the biggest idiot in Hogwarts” he started. “But… I promise I have changed a lot this year as… I see you have too” he said.

“You mean I don’t look like Remus’ dorky little sister anymore?”

“No, you definitely do” he mocked you, earning a slap on his arm by you but he pulled you again and the two of you kept slowly dancing even if the song had changed a long time ago. “But… look, I don’t know what happened today that finally made me realize how beautiful you are, but I definitely do not want to take it for granted” he told you. “You’re probably the only girl, sorry, woman, that has dealt with me for so long and still likes me and… I have changed a lot this past year, you can ask your brother. I’m not the same stupid kid I was in Hogwarts-”

“You mean, two years ago?”

“Yes! After I graduated, I realized that’s not… something that I want to keep doing. I have actually missed you so much and I hated not seeing you every day and I know that you may just look at me like Remus’ stupid best friend but… if now’s my chance I am definitely not going to waste it” he said truthfully.

“Now’s your chance? Sirius, you think now is your chance?”

“What do you mean?”

“Sirius, do you have any idea how long I wanted you to ask me out?”

“R-really?”

“Yeah” you said as if it was obvious.

“Well, why didn’t you ever say anything?”

“Are you joking? You were Sirius Black and I was just-”

“Little Moons” he finished for you as you nodded.

“Yeah. I know you only saw me as Remus’ little sister” you told him.

“That’s not true” he told you. “You were always my best friend, but please don’t say that to James or your brother” he said, making you chuckle.

“You’re just saying that to get me to go on a date with you. Don’t forget I know all your tricks, Black” you smirked.

“I know, that’s why I like you so much, Lupin” he smiled at you. “So… what do you say?” he asked.

“You promise this is not a joke?” you smiled up at him.

“Love, I swear, I would never joke about this” he said, genuinely. “You can send your brothers to murder me if I am” he said.

“Brothers?”

“I’m pretty sure Prongs would join in the fun. And don’t even get me started on Mrs. Potter” he said, making you chuckle.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that” you smiled.

“Really? They have been looking at us for the past three songs” he said, nodding his head at the newlywed couple, and when you looked at them they quickly looked away. “So… Little Moons” he smirked. “Would you like to go on a date with me?”

“You better take my fucking breath away, Siri-” you said, before he leaned in to give you a kiss. The kiss was everything you ever imagined it would be to kiss Sirius Black. And even more but, unfortunately, you were rudely interrupted.

“Really Pads, my baby sister?”

The two of you pulled apart and looked at Remus, James, and Lily all looking at you. Lily being the only one with a smile on her face.

“Well, you see, Moony… funny story…”

The End

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Song: At Last - Etta James

A/N: aaaahh xD I hope you liked it! I have more coming up :)

#marauders #marauders imagine #sirius black #remus lupin #sirius black imagine #remus lupin imagine #sirius black x reader #remus lupin x sister!reader #sirius black oneshot #remus lupin oneshot

[wonwooslibrary]

svt as boyfriends ♡ joshua edition

member: joshua x reader genre: established relationship, bullet points word count: 738 summary: joshua's boyfriend things ;) warnings: mentions of food and i think that's it! let me know if i missed anything! author's note: y'all i am almost two whole days late with this oh god it keeps getting worse. i am...very tired haha i've been working a lot to build up some money while i'm not in school so yeah. i lowkey forgot about joshua/taehyung day until i opened twitter and saw people talking abt shua and i was like WAIT THAT IS TODAY anyway moral of the story i'm tired and need a break but here is the joshua fic we've all been waiting for! ily all and enjoy <3

He lowkey gives the vibes of like. The foreign exchange student bf with a relationship with a deadline 

He’s the silly bf!!! 

He’s also one of the members I see the least as a boyfriend so this is going to be interesting to write…

Quality Time 

Mans is a fan of everything fr !!! He absolutely loves spending time with you and your shared group of friends 

Loves doing silly little activities with you like making bracelets and painting 

He might just be the artsy bf we all want 

Joshua loves to go to different places with you like thrift stores, arcades, cafes, literally anything as long as he is with you <3

Loves the feeling of mixing his friend groups - the day you meet his friends aka his brothers he will be imploding with love for everyone 

Is the “i get bored easily” bf so y’all gotta be doing like ten different things at once 

Will totally ask you to dance or just close your eyes and be with him when a slow song comes on at a party / get together / playing music at home 

Words of Affirmation

You totally call him Joshy or Shua and he loves every minute of it bc he thinks it’s cute 

“Darling, would you like to get coffee with me tomorrow morning?” SCREECHING 

Believes the relationship revolves around pet names (ie. baby, sweetie, darling) he's adorable 

Is always proud of you and encouraging!!! 

Likes to leave little notes for you around the house. Maybe by your favorite drink in the fridge that reads, “I got these for you. stay hydrated, love” 

At the beginning of the relationship he was so formal with you, that it took him saying “I love you” for the first time to relax for five seconds LOL 

Physical Touch

Joshua loves handholding ‼️

This man always wants to have some sort of contact with you, whether that be holding hands, linking fingers or rubbing your back

Loves having you sit on his lap or lay your legs across his 

His go-to move when you are in public is linking your pinkies together (how cute :3) 

Leans on you when he laughs because he cannot sit still 

I feel like Joshua would like. move his fingers on your leg in the way of playing piano keys but with guitar if that makes sense? Like where the frets are? Idk

Is also the type to be scared of touching you in front of others until you explicitly tell him that it's okay

Acts of Service 

Loves doing the chores for you

“Hey, baby, I'm gonna fill my water bottle. Do you need me to fill yours?” 

Or even a, “hey i borrowed your car, but i filled the tank before bringing it back” we love a man who can afford to fill a vehicle’s tank at this point in time

Likes to bring you lunch once or twice a week --- he’ll make it himself and pack it in a cute little bag and everything 

Helps you in little ways like folding the laundry or helping you pick out outfits on those days that you struggle to do anything 

Is always there for you when literally anything happens. You need someone to help fix your car? He’s on the phone finding a shop. You can’t reach a high shelf or your back hurts too much to bend down to get something from a low cupboard? He’s right there ready to help

Gift Giving 

I touched on this a tiny bit earlier but !! handmade jewelry omg he would make matching bracelets for y’all or even a necklace or earrings for you if bracelets interfere with your job

Always buys little trinkets that remind him of you or your relationship 

“Hey I found this little glass rose decoration and it reminded me of the time i got you flowers when i asked you out the first time” 

HE WILL ALWAYS HAVE THE CUTE SHY SMILE WHEN HE GIVES YOU SOMETHING TOO as if you’ll ever tell him that you dislike something he got for you 

He would also love if you gave him gifts too like, “hey joshy I got this little container that can help you keep your beads organized” and he’s melt into a puddle of goo onto your living room floor 

Also gets something for you (usually your favorite snack or drink) when you’re especially sad or stressed out - like a super gift instead of his regular daily gifts or something 

Idk just know he’s really sweet and enjoys crafting

#caratwritersclub #kdiarynet #kbookshelf #seventeen #seventeen fanfic #svt fanfic #svt #svt fluff #joshua x reader #joshua seventeen #joshua #joshua hong #joshua fluff #joshua hong x reader #joshua hong fluff #joshua hong imagines #joshua hong x you #seventeen joshua #svt joshua #happy joshua day

[doodle-pops]

Seconds Chances Are Worth Living For

Maglor x human!reader

Request: Hi can I request an fic (or onehsot) where a human finds Maglor wondering the beach where he threw the silmaril and they help him? - anon

Warnings: human!reader, light angst with happy ending/comfort, depressed and gloomy Maglor

Words: 1.3k

Synopsis: Nobody ever said second chances in life were easy, nor were changes necessary to bring them.

“Will you not come with me?”

His heart twisted painfully; your words lingered in the air like an unwelcome odour he desperately wished to dispel. Too often had these haunting words surfaced in his mind during the agonizing days of solitude. Too many times, he found himself yearning for them to materialize into reality, yet he remained resolute in his pride, steadfast against the prospect of accepting forgiveness. Deep within, he longed for the warmth of a fireplace, enclosed by walls of solace and finality—enough respite from the harshness of the ocean waves and the mournful cries of seagulls.

His posture, detached upon the rugged rocks, nearly melding into the static structure, remained unmoved. On the contrary, you stood unwavering before him, your gaze fixed upon his threadbare form draped in the remnants of shame and despair. It was a clash between an immovable object and an unstoppable force, and you were determined not to be the one to yield. Whether it was destiny or the cosmic alignment that led you to his desolate presence on the shores of Forlindon, you were resolved not to depart without pulling him away.

Defiance surged through your veins as you continued to face his statuesque figure, yet you restrained yourself from encroaching upon his personal space.

“If you stay another hour, you may succumb to fatal illness,” you pleaded, voice above a whisper. A strong gust of wind roamed the shores, prompting you to curl your cloak around your shoulders tightly to your body. There was a faint chattering of your teeth as you gathered the courage to speak up again. “Please, there is a cabin not too far away from these shores. The least you can do is come with me for something warm to eat and drink, perhaps a warmer change of apparel?”

Maglor’s gaze stretched into the distance, fixed upon the horizon, while his fingers gracefully danced through the air, as if caressing an unseen harp. Murmuring unfamiliar words, too delicate for mortal ears to grasp, his lament echoed the sorrows of a bygone era when the world was in its infancy. This was the poignant scene that unfolded before you: Maglor, singing with a voice textured like sandpaper, tears encrusting his eyelids, lips weathered and parted, fingers weaving through the invisible threads of melody, and eyes reflecting a profound abyss of desolation.

In a single glance, your heart welled with empathy, and tears threatened to spill from your lashes. In a burst of compassion, you implored and beseeched him to find solace within the confines of your cabin, offering a glimmer of hope to bring an end to his eternal torment.

“Please,” –you stepped closer, dwarfed by his largeness despite his malnourished physique– “I’m not asking you to stay forever if that is what you believe I seek. I only wish to help you—”

“Why?” He spoke or rather, croaked!

“Well…” you fumbled, stunned at his ability to communicate after minutes of attempting to capture his attention. “Because it is the right thing to do.”

“Why?”

Flapping your lips like a fish and furrowing your brows to mimic confusion, you stammered, “W-Well, I mean—You shouldn’t be alone out here in the element…suffering. You deserve a warm bed and comfort.”

“Why?” You never imagined that reaching out to aid a person would become so difficult. Indeed he was proving to be an unmovable object, but you were willing to be that unstoppable force who spoke wisdom into him.

For a fleeting moment, your gaze descended from his lean countenance to the weathered rock upon which he perched, his nimble fingers still weaving through the breeze in search of a haunting melody. A serene ambiance enveloped both of you, juxtaposed against the impending unease hanging in the air. The turbulent seas clashed vehemently against the headlands and platforms, while the sky hinted at an impending tempest, prompting you to ponder earnestly on what he sought from you amid the impending cataclysm.

Rubbing your cheek to battle against the frost nipping at your skin, you pinched your lips, then scratched your head as though an oncoming headache was surfacing. “Because I want to help you and I believe you are in need of help. My mortal compass would not rest well knowing that I left someone out in the element to suffer when I could relieve some of it.”

“And…what if you are…” He never finished his words for his throat seized up on him, but they lingered in the air ringing obviousness to what he was conveying.

“Wrong? Then I will learn a life lesson to not trust strangers who are on the brink of death.” Releasing a chuckle as you crinkled your nose, you looked at him once more. “I rather spend my time helping someone in need of it instead of having restless days and nights knowing I left you to suffer. If I am wrong…—everyone suffers differently, the good, the bad and the indifferent. What matters is that I helped; what you choose to do after is your choice and path.”

For the first time since your encounter, his lacklustre gaze fixed upon your earthly form, shrouded in ebony. His eyes meticulously studied every nuance of your being, from the strands of your hair down to the contour of your chin, even discerning the intricacies of your skin that radiated vitality. It was a quality of his that had languished in purgatory for countless eons. Compelling his lips to part, his pallid complexion yielded, producing droplets of moisture that emerged, imparting a semblance of colour to his wistful countenance. “But…am stran…ger.”

Resisting the urge to physically shake him by his shoulder before being beyond complex, you huffed and widened your eyes, tears threatening to spill as your emotions swallowed you. “Yes, yes! I know you are a stranger! You could be a sea creature too for all I know, who crawled out the depths of the ocean to lament his sufferings to the surface world! But none of that matters because I know a suffering person when I see one because I too… Please, let me help you. Don’t…give up without trying. Let me help...”

Maglor drew in a slow, measured breath before exhaling. It felt as though some divine intervention, dispatched by the Valar to alleviate his torment, had arrived in the form of your unwavering determination. Perhaps the burden of his endless years wandering the shores had become too much for even the Valar to bear, prompting their counsel for his return. Alternatively, this could be yet another vivid dream, a product of years spent attempting to conjure solace. Regardless, it all seemed serendipitous.

Though he longed to inquire about his fate should he accept, the strength to articulate a single syllable eluded him. As his eyes locked onto yours in search of sincerity, he grappled with the duality of seeking both truth and deceit, yearning for the former.

Setting aside his infamous pride, swallowing it like a scalding-hot, white rod, a new chapter unfolded. The courage amassed since ancient days returned, instilling confidence in his actions. However, the lack of physical strength betrayed him, causing his legs to give way, sending him tumbling into the damp sand. In that moment, he felt an overwhelming desire to weep at the transformation he had undergone and the shame he carried. Your arms delicately extended, encircling his waist, as he clung to your figure. From a once-great prince to a desolate wanderer in need of mortal compassion, Maglor held onto you as you struggled to lift him onto his feet, leaning his weakened body against yours.

“All is fine, I have you. Just walk with me, small steps and we shall get there safely and securely,” you softly reassured as you carried him towards a new beginning.

Masterlist

Taglist: @lilmelily @ranhanabi777 @mysticmoomin @rain-on-my-umbrella @asianbutnotjapanese @batsyforyou @sakurayaxd @ladyenchanted @involuntaryspasms @stormchaser819 @aconstructofamind @addaigio @lamemaster @hermaeuswhora

#maglor angst #maglor x reader #maglor imagine #maglor scenario #maglor #silmarillion x reader #silmarillion imagine #silmarillion scenario #silmarillion fic #middle earth x reader #middle earth imagine #middle earth scenario #middle earth fic #house of feanor #feanorians #makalaurë #macalaurë #makalaure #macalaure #kanafinwë #kanafinwe #light angst #angst with comfort #angst with happy ending #x reader insert #silmarillion #doodlepops writings ✨

[praisethegabs]

TAKING CARE

pairing: leon kennedy x reader synopsis: he needs comfort and someone who cares about him, and you know he won't say it. at least, not out loud. author's note: another request, i think it's very cute. it's my first attempt to write a drabble, and here it is. this was heavily inspired by a conversation i had with my friend today! i hope you like it, anon 💓 warnings: just fluff in general with a small angst, no use of y/n, second person (you) word count: 934

Leon was a terrible liar.

You were his partner for years, and you were always there with him during assignments. You knew him better than anyone else and there was nothing he could hide from you. Your relationship with him was something very unique, and you knew you were the only person he truly trusted.

But oh lord, it was very hard to gain his trust.

That's why you didn't even cared having him laying on your couch on a Saturday night after almost one month away from home. He was tired just like you were and yet, he seemed bothered with something.

"Is everything okay?" you ask him, sitting on the floor, crossing your legs as you observes him.

"Yeah, I'm fine" he says, his arm resting on his face as he tries to protect his sight from the lights. "Just tired"

"You're a bad liar, Kennedy" You smirk, trying to provoke him as you poke his waist, making him groan a little. "Come on, big guy"

"I hate you" he muttered to you, slaping your hand from his waist, before he glances at you, getting more comfortable on your couch.

"You love me" you smirk, still poking him, which makes him sigh a little, rolling his eyes as he gets slightly annoyed by your insistence.

"Have you ever had this feeling... like... you don't belong to anyone else?" he asks you, sitting on your couch, sighing deeply. "Like... you're not destined to be with anyone? Always alone and this kind of bullshit?"

"Wow, I've never thought of that... why?" You raised an eyebrow, the smirk on your lips fading away, as you notice some sadness in his piercing blue eyes.

But he seemed hesitant for a moment, trying to find the right words to express himself, which was something he had a lot of trouble to do. Leon was a low profile person. He always kept things for him instead of opening himself up with others, so telling someone how he felt was a big deal.

"I mean, recently I've been asking myself if I'm not a lovable person, y'know? Like there's something wrong with me, like I don't deserve to be loved..." Leon avoids your gaze, focusing on your plant instead. You knew it was serious.

"Since when you've been thinking about this?" You ask him, joining his side on the couch, trying to gain his attention.

"I don't know... it's been a while. I feel like I won't end with someone, I won't have an happy ending, like everyone else. You know, everyone I ever cared about ended up betraying me or hurting me... which makes me ask myself if I'm not worthy of love" he finally looks at you and you can notice he's trying his best to not break in front of you.

How can you show him you care? How can you tell him he's worthy of love and he deserves all the happiness in the world? No matter what you say, he won't believe you. He's so broken inside, he's so shattered into a thousand of pieces that words can't fix him. How can you convince him he deserves only the best, when all he sees is pain and suffering? He was hurt before, and he tries so hard to hide it, but sometimes, when there's only you with him, he finally allows himself to be vulnerable. But this? This confession? Well, it's not like anything else you heard before.

So, with just an simple gesture, you just involved him in your arms, in a tight hug that could melt him inside you, where no one would hurt him again.

And when he feels this hug, when his skin touch yours, he knows he can be whatever he wants with you. He can be vulnerable, he can be everything he isn't while he's with others. Deep down, all he needs is someone to rely on. You.

"I have something to say, and I want you to hear me very carefully, Leon" you said, touching his face so he can look you in the eyes, and he just nods. "You're the most beautiful, lovely and bravest man I've ever knew. And by beautiful, I mean inside and out. You're worthy of all love of the world, you deserve to have an happy ending like everyone else and don't ever let anyone tell you otherwise"

He smirks, even there's sadness in his eyes. He nods again, a few tears dropping from his eyes as he bury his face in your neck, seeking comfort. Gently, you start to stroke his hair, leaning against the couch to be more comfortable as he lays on your chest, breathing more calmly.

"Thank you" he whispers, closing his eyes as he can hear your heart beating calmly inside your chest, your fingers still playing with his hair. "For everything"

"What can I say? I love you, jerk" you smirk, looking down at him, his face buried on your neck, but a soft smile on his lips. "And you better remember that"

"I will. Always" his breath on your neck makes your body shiver, and he notices it, makes him smile even more.

This is the unique relationship you have with him. The only person who knows his insecurities, the person he always seeks when he needs comfort and assurance. By the end of the day, it's you he'll always want to be with.

"By the way, I'll always take care of you" you whisper to him, even though you knew he's asleep now. He's snoring softly and you know he's in peace. "Always"

#leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x oc #leon kennedy #leon scott kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x you #leon scott kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy #leon scott kennedy #leon re4 #resident evil leon #infinite darkness leon #leon kennedy infinite darkness #leon resident evil #re4 leon #leon re2 #leon imagine #leon kennedy imagine

[anikasheep]

SCENTS - The Older Brothers

MC is a sweet adorable sheep, yes.

Lucifer

Lucifer is the type who desperately wants your scent to stay on him but doesn't want anyone to find out. It's not that he doesn't want people to know, but he doesn't want them to get the wrong impression that the Avatar of Pride has become a human captive.

It's you who should smell like him. He owns you, not you.

But there was a part of Lucifer that kept convincing him that he should at least smell like you.

Little Lamb is special, if other demons smell the scent of Little Lamb from you, doesn't that mean that Little Lamb, a human being, is recognized by Lucifer? How many humans have been recognized by Lucifer, who is at the top of the power in the entire demon world? Don't you want to see the group of sorcerers and witches looking enviously at the lamb? Not to mention the fact that you can see Solomon's eyes holding back his jealousy, which is definitely something worth doing!

You'll use a laundry detergent that smells like lamb and sneak it into your locker, and then the next morning, with a troubled look on your face, ask if you've seen his uniform.

Or he'll use the fact that he's too busy as an excuse to ask you to help him put away his clothes. He knows you can't resist stealing his shirt or jacket and taking pictures of him in his room. There's a popular custom called boyfriend shirts and he'll let you have it!

He will adjust to the lamb's acceptance of physical contact, from kisses to hugs, to fixing your fringe, to tying your hair (this usually happens before a big party, and Lucifer won't hesitate to steal Asmo's place of work, believe me).

If he doesn't really like the physical contact mentioned above, he will inadvertently put his right hand around your wrist and gently rub his thumb on your wrist. Lucifer one day accidentally discovered that this behavior can make you relax, and then you will smell even better.

Lucifer's study has a blanket which only MC and himself could use, every time the sheep study with Lucifer to deal with the student body affairs will be draped in this blanket. Lucifer refused to let anyone but himself and the lamb touch it, and he would ask the lamb to take the blanket with him when he washed his clothes for various reasons. Don't ask too many questions, you KNEW WHY.

Mammon

Invade your room, what's yours is his, offer him all you've got, he craves all you've got, lamb.

You've all slept together. I don't think he'll ever not smell like you.

He holds the lamb in his sleep and keeps saying the lamb's name under his breath.

More than once, he suggests to the sheep that they can wear his jacket if they are cold.

He is a cuddle fiend and will get next to you whenever he gets the chance, and will let you hug him from behind if you are okay with it. Loves to put his face close to your neck and shoulders, with the tip of his nose brushing against the arteries in your neck.

This way he can smell you at the same time, and then feel the pulse of your life, as long as it is about you, he craves hopelessly.

He's proud of the fact that he smells like you. After all, you're his human, his lamb.

He likes to use the excuse of wanting to sleep or something like that and puts his face close to the inside of your elbow, where the body temperature is high and the smell of you is strong. ←Birds

They may steal your body lotion and remember to refill it, but if you want them to stop, tell them to stop:

“Mammon, you're old enough to use your own body wash.”

“Huh? Oh sure, I'm a great Mammon, human.”

“Do you like the smell?”

“Is it the smell that counts, no! No! Yes! The point is that you use this body wash and it smells good, you little twerp. Uh...damn it!”

If it's okay, let's try inviting him to buy the same kind of body wash next time.

Leviathan

To be honest, I think this otaku is one of the seven brothers who know the most about this kind of thing, but this otaku is really too shy, so his way will be as euphemistic as Lucifer's.

He will take advantage of the time when you are playing together in his room and put his tail on your wrist or ankle.

His tail will take advantage of the time you play together in his room to rest on your wrists or ankles, his tail can feel your smallest heartbeat and tremors, and for some reason, it can also feel your most real emotional reaction.

He can't easily turn into a demon at school, so he's used to putting his hand around your wrist when he's anxious.

If you're generous enough to give him a hug, Leviathan will hold you tightly like an octopus, hooking his arms around your waist, and if anyone dares to try and separate the two of you, you'll see Leviathan make a hissing sound like a snake warning off its enemies.

There is a HANA RURI blanket around you two, and it's a cold night in the Demon World, so be sure to stay close to Leviathan to keep warm.

If you see Leviathan wriggling around with a familiar towel, blushing and asking you to wash it with him, please indulge him in his little request, lamb!

May fantasize about a lot of slightly perverse situations, but he knows those things are not acceptable and he respects your wishes. So accordingly, he may collect a set of HANA RURI clothing peripherals for you, shirts, jackets, scarves, etc., looking forward to you to satisfy this nerd's COSPLAY wishes and his hidden small one.

#anika dream #obey me x mc #obey me x reader #obey me lucifer x mc #obey me mammon x mc #obey me leviathan x mc

[shineonyoucrazyyandere]

Hello!!

I'm a bit new to the asking game, but I have a headcanon request! What if the Stardust Crusaders met the daughter of DIO, who had a bright and extremely sweet personality with a stand who has techomagic abilities (able to create advance technology, extended knowledge in technology). I apologize if this doesn't make sense! This would be platonic btw!

— 🧠 Anon!

I think I have a grasp of what to write for this ask finally. Darling is still a child of DIO it’s just that makes my title even wordier than it already is. Decided to do one character per bullet point btw

Platonic! Yandere! Stardust Crusaders w/ a technomagic stand darling.

You’re likely a huge help on the technological/engineering side of things for the crusaders. If you met them right at the start of trying to find DIO. Your first observation is probably akin of “Mr. Joestar you know you probably don’t need to break that expensive camera to use your stand right?”. Before long you have it repaired and ready to go, Joseph is wildly impressed and is quickly endeared to you. There is at least also one instance of him asking about fiddling around with a vending machine (for science of course), to maybe get something a little extra.

Avdol can see the trouble coming with you and Mr. Joestar a mile a way. Your eagerness towards technology is commendable and a little worrying if you get too caught up. Which is pretty often, and Joseph tends to be an enabler when it comes to anything he finds cool. He personally loves it himself but does his best to be your guide. He’s the one to most likely sit next to you in whatever transportation you’re in, it’s almost stifling but you barely notice most likely as you keep yourself entertained. There is quite a few times he does let you “loose” to do your thing, just because he enjoys your company so much.

Kakyoin is a bit more reserved in his reactions, the biggest thing that lures him to you is how well you utilize your stand in much of the technology you all run into. If you happen to bring up games out of boredom, his interest is piqued as you likely explain how you fixed a perfectly good console that was thrown in the trash. You tell him some people just don’t understand there’s things worth saving and there’s usually a fix that perfectly restores it. His feelings deepen when you tell him you believe him with the Death 13 fight. His hands are almost shaking, (In this scenario he is very likely to become a romantic yandere pretty quickly)

Polnareff bounces off your personality pretty easily, likes asking you a ton of questions and you manage to answer just about every one of them. He’d just wish you would relax a little bit and enjoy the smallest bit of relaxation (as you can when getting constantly chased by enemy stand users). So he usually nudges you with some kind of treat or even just doing something casually where it doesn’t seem that your brain is running on full power constantly. There’s a dozen times he’s even carrying you up the stairs, you deserve it. You saved his skin so he certainly has to return the favor. (This Frenchman would also be likely to end up a romantic yandere)

Jotaro is one who comes in when things go a little too far, especially if gramps or Polnareff are going what he considers over board, so if he wants to be around you he will find a way to do so. Not that he doesn’t occasionally indulge your tinkering with a little thunk to something with either his strength or Star Platinum’s. He definitely tells you to go to bed when you’re up too late for his liking while on the trip. Don’t ask why or how he got in your room, or even ponder if he was outside of your door guarding you. He can handle himself even if he is a bit hypocritical with some advice. Speaking of he is quick to tell you to lower your use of your stand, keeping it hidden so no potential danger catches everyone off guard. Especially when you’ve helped him out with Wheel of Fortune and Strength. He does let some of his eccentricities out with you and the others when it feels reasonable. But he’s still keeping one eye open at all times when he can.

If anyone’s wondering if there’s any worry about you being the daughter of DIO, I’d like to think Avdol was the one to keep an eye on you for trustworthiness before anything happened. (Even if none of them knew you were his daughter).

#yandere x reader #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere jjba #yandere jjba imagines #yandere jjba x reader #yandere headcanons #jjba imagines #yandere avdol #yandere Polnareff #yandere jotaro #yandere Kakyoin #Yandere Joseph joestar #platonic yandere #- 🧠 Anon

[anxiousnerdwritings]

Do you remember that ask about platonic yandere siblings Loki & Thor with a sibling who lives on Midgard? Can I request sibling!reader inviting their two brothers for Chrismas the Midgardian style? I would imagine Thor being super excited but totally clueless about the whole thing and Loki only showing up because of their sibling and other then that not wanting any part of it lmao

Yan!Brother!Thor and Yan!Brother!Loki Spending Christmas on Midgard w/Sibling!Reader Headcanons (platonic)

When their beloved sibling decided to make Midgard their new home, taking up permanent residence and choosing to live a day to day life similar to any other Midgardian in complete contrast to their godly title back home on Asgard, Thor and Loki we’re devastated. Their sibling was leaving. They were leaving their parents behind. They were leaving Asgard, the only home they’ve ever known, behind. But most importantly they were leaving Thor and Loki behind.

Out of the two, Thor was the quickest to accept you leaving. Of course it helped with you telling him he and Loki can visit whenever and are always welcomed at your new home, as well as promising that you’ll visit once in a while. Not to mention Frigga did her best to ease both Thor’s and Loki’s distress over the new change. As much as Thor still didn’t like the whole thing he was more tolerable of it now. But Loki was a different case.

Loki absolutely detested your moving to Midgard and abandoning your family, abandoning him. His dislike for Midgard and the Midgardians that inhabit it was already pretty bad but now it’s pure unabashed hatred for the place and people that took his beloved sibling away from him. He is somewhat happy that you said he was welcomed to your new home whenever but it doesn’t fix anything for him whatsoever. You shouldn’t need a ‘new home’ not when you already had one to begin with. To say he’s salty is an understatement, Loki is extremely sulky and resentful of the entire thing altogether and nothing could make him come around to it. The only thing that would make him truly happy is having you back home where you belong.

Also, when Loki first learns about you leaving to Midgard he wholeheartedly believes you’re leaving because of him and his ‘God of Mischief’ antics. There would no doubt be a moment of him bursting into your bedchambers on Asgard, a sobbing and inconsolable mess begging you to stay, that he’ll be good from now on if it means you won’t leave him. He doesn’t care how weak or pathetic he looks and sounds, you’re the only one he ever felt he could allow himself to be this way with because he knew you wouldn’t judge him and you sure as hell wouldn’t tell a soul about it. Even if you did find him pathetic yourself, you at least didn’t utter a word regarding it.

It takes a lot of getting use to now that they don’t have you around. They both miss talking with you, laughing with you, running around and playing games with you (even if all of you were too old for playing games, it was still very much a part of your lives). Thor is a sulking mess, not nearly as boisterous and shining as he was before. Loki doesn’t even feel like playing tricks on any one, let alone Thor and keeps to himself more than ever, barely leaving his own bedchambers unless Frigga comes to drag him out herself.

Speaking of Frigga, she is very much the glue that keeps both Thor and Loki from letting their despair swallow them whole. She assures them that you are doing well, that you are safe and happy but it doesn’t change their moods too much. It does ease them some but it also leads them to miss you all the more. They wish you were safe and happy with them here on Asgard. No matter how frustrating and unwilling either are to pull themselves out of their funk, Frigga never ceases to do what she can to keep them from dwelling too long in the dark.

It’s slow and little by little but eventually Thor is getting back to his usual self and Loki is getting back to his old mischievous habits, albeit they’re a tad bit more cruel but it’s something. It isn’t until Odin announces that you’ll be making a visit to Asgard that they both perk up more than ever since you’ve been gone. Neither can conceal their excitement at being able to see, talk, and touch you. Just being able to be in your presence again has both Thor and Loki ecstatic.

When you’re finally there in the flesh with them again it’s the reunion that all of Asgard had been waiting for with bated breath. Thor can’t help himself and immediately engulfs his precious sibling in a bone crushing hug but they happily accept it having missed him and his infamous hugs. It feels like forever before he’s made to let go courtesy of Loki wanting to finally greet his beloved sibling after being a part for so long. He envelopes you in a hug too, not nearly like Thor’s but it’s still a tight hold. He keeps it more under wraps than Thor had but just wait until there’s no one else around and he’ll be latched on to you like a second skin.

It feels so good to have the three of you together again. Frigga and Odin can’t help but admire the wholesome sight before them. Their little family was back together again and it felt so right.

During their sibling’s entire visit, Thor and Loki are attached to either side of them the whole time. Neither of them step away for any reason and everyone around knows better then to try and pull them away. If someone were to be idiotic enough to try, Thor and Loki put them in their place without hesitation. Nothing is keeping them from missing out on getting to be with their precious sibling again after what’s felt like an eternity without them.

It isn’t until the very last day of their visit, maybe even right before they’re about to leave, that they invite both Thor and Loki to spend what the Midgardians call “Christmas” with them at their new home. Neither Thor or Loki are sure about what this “Christmas” is but the way their eyes lit up and the smile that spread across their lips showed just how much this “Chsirtmas” thing was to them. And who were both Thor and Loki to refuse an invitation to spend even more time with their beloved sibling. Even if Loki could careless about Midgard and the Midgardians, he wouldn’t miss out on this if it meant so much to his sibling.

Thor and Loki would show up a few days in advance before actual Christmas Day just to spend some more time with you and get a feel for what this whole “Christmas” thing was exactly. Thor is excited to not only get to see and be with you but also to take in everything. He may as well be jumping up like a toddler hyped up on sugar. Meanwhile, Loki couldn’t be more uncomfortable and disgusted from what he’s seen so far of Midgard. This was the place you left them and Asgard for? It doesn’t look like much at all, let alone something worth your time.

Once they are at your home and in your company they are greeted to bright lights, an array of odd decor, and a tree heavily decorated from stump to treetop with various shiny and dangling things as well as more lights and some sparkly stuff called ‘garland’. It really is a sight to behold never having seen it before and it certainly appears that you went all out for it. Thor is absolutely captivated by everything he sees and he wants to touch it all but the first ornament he reaches out for breaks within seconds. Meanwhile, as taken aback as Loki is he still isn’t too fazed by it. Honestly you could have all of this and more back home on Asgard. He doesn’t really care about the bright lights, or shiny decorations, or even the stupid ridiculous tree (he of course wouldn’t tell you that). All he wants is to spend time with you and convince you to come home.

After they get all settled you tell them all about what Christmas means to Midgardians and the traditions they follow in regards to it. Thor is all ears, completely captivated by each and every word you say explaining everything. Meanwhile, Loki is also listening intently but he’s much more subtle about it. He still doesn’t get it but if you’re so invested in it then he’ll be along for the ride he supposes.

You tell them all about the foods and deserts they make to eat on the special day, the songs they sing, the cartoons and shows they watch, and last but not least the gift giving that takes place. Everything so far has had both of their attention but that last one about gifts is what really gets them. They didn’t bring you any gifts. They hadn’t thought about it. You didn’t say anything about gifts. Okay, now they’re both inwardly panicking cause they’ve come empty handed. Loki could of course use his magic to give you something but Thor is at a loss. He may even pester Loki into conjuring something up for Thor to give you. But they have a few days to come up with something, right? That’s plenty of time!

The days leading up to Christmas are spent showing both Thor and Loki around Midgard and to your favorite places. You make the point to tell them that around this time of year things get much more hectic then they usually are but you don’t mind too much, if anything you like watching the hustle and bustle. But both Thor and Loki look and feel so out of place, they’re grateful they have you to guide them but they feel completely out of their element, especially Loki.

Christmas Eve is when you spend the whole day prepping for the Christmas Day feats you have planned and what feast it’ll be with Thor there. Both Thor and Loki help where they can with what they can but Loki is the one who ends up doing the better job out of the two only because Thor either ends up breaking something or burning something but he’s content doing whatever as long as he’s involved. Although inevitably the two make a contest out of whatever it is they’re doing, especially if it’s the same task.

Both Thor and Loki are appreciative and happy when you add some Asgardian traditions to the mix, whether with some of the foods and goodies you make or maybe even in some of the home decor they hadn’t noticed before. They’re both very relieved that you haven’t completely cut Asgard out of your life and you have things that remind you of them and your old home.

When it comes time to bake cookies and decorate them, Thor can’t wait. He’s making all different shapes and sizes, decorating them all over the place that by the end of it he’s covered in an array of icing, sprinkles and probably some odd bits of cookie dough. Loki somehow manages to stay clean and pristine through the whole process, not only that but all his cookies are immaculate and even. It may result in a bit of quarrel between the two but you’re able to calm them down.

If you were to wipe some icing on or sprinkle some sprinkles on Loki then he’d just accept it but there will be retaliation and he’ll do the same thing to you. Of course Thor gets involved and by the end of it all of you are more decorated with icing and sprinkles then the actual cookies are.

When met the aspect of wearing matching pajamas or sweaters, Thor is absolutely all for it. Loki takes a bit to come around to putting either on and when he does he does so begrudgingly but really he actually likes it. Especially since you picked them out. If you were to have made the pajama or sweaters yourself then both Thor and Loki would treat them like the most precious and fragile things in existence. They would be so careful wearing them, doing their absolute best to keep them in good condition.

If their sibling were to have gone out of their way to get a small Christmas tree and a few little decorations to put on it so that Thor and Loki could experience decorating a tree alongside their sibling would make them both melt. Thor does his damndest to be gentle and gingerly when putting anything on the tree. He doesn’t want to ruin it and in turn ruin the moment they’re all sharing together. Loki acts like this whole thing isn’t a big deal but deep down it is. Their sibling had already excitedly and impulsively decorated their home and the tree before Thor and himself got there but still wanted to share this part of the tradition with them.

It would really make Loki feel nice and warm inside that they went out and did that for him and Thor. He was working his way to warming up to this whole Christmas thing. But what would make it even better was if it was on Asgard, where the three of you, Frigga and maybe Odin could all be doing this and celebrating together like a family if only you’d come back home. To your real home, leaving this pretend one behind.

When Christmas Day is finally here, your excitement for the day is enough to get Thor and Loki in the spirit. Thor is very much more open and outwardly showing his fondness for it while. While even though Loki is willing to participate and go along with it he still isn’t nearly as fond of the whole aspect as you and Thor are. But seeing you glowing with joy would keep him biting his tongue and going with whatever.

Now when you hand them their gifts that you’ve been desperately trying to keep as much of a surprise as possible both Thor and Loki are excited and anxious to see what you’ve gotten them, especially since they’re pretty sure it’s Midgardian related. No matter what it is they both would absolutely cherish it to no end. Even Loki who could careless about Midgard and everything to do with it because it took you away from him would be utterly infatuated with what you gifted him. As long as it’s from you and the fact that you looked so worried about how either of them would react to their gifts, in particular keeping more of a close eye on him and his reaction specifically, that it automatically makes his gift the best thing he’s ever received from anyone.

Thor is also extremely elated with his gift. You may have to tell him what it is or how it works but he loves it nonetheless and it will become his most prized possession. As would Loki’s gift becoming Loki’s very own prized possession that he would keep in the safest place where only he could have access to it.

After that it’s time for your gifts. Both Thor and Loki take out the gifts they had very quickly and sloppily put together for you. Thor’s wrapping was of course messy and scrunched up but it was obvious he had tried his very best. Meanwhile, of course Loki’s wrapping was immaculate probably having used his magic to do it for him but still it was lovely all the same. Handing the gifts off to you, Thor and Loki sit back anxiously awaiting your own reaction similar to how you had been earlier. They doth wait with bated breath hoping that you love what they rushed to put together for you.

They both got you something to remind you of not only them but also Asgard as a whole. They had even gone back to Asgard at some point and gotten Frigga to add her own gifts into the mix as well as Heimdall and a few others. As much as Thor wanted you to come back home he also realized just how truly happy you seemed during your visit when talking about Midgard and your adventures there. Asgard would always be there for you but while you were making a home on Midgard you may as well be surrounded but things to remind of your original home and the family that was there waiting for you.

Loki wants you to come back home no matter what and he would be the one to drag you back. But having talked again with mother and hearing her explain things he supposed he could wait for a bit before trying to enact any attempts at being you home. He also gifted you something that would remind you of him and of him so you’d never forget about what was there for you when you were finally over this Midgardian phase. It would be something you could always wear; a ring, necklace, bracelet/cuff, a hair piece, broach, etc. But it wouldn’t be any ordinary piece, it would be fitted with the most valuable and beautiful jewel or jewels found in all of the nine realms. Not to mention Loki has definitely used his magic to do something to it to keep you and him connected without you knowing about it. Whether it’s to keep track of you and wherever you may be, or it’s had a protective spell cast on it to keep you safe, or maybe it allows him to hear and feel your heartbeat so he can feel closer to you while being so far apart.

Both Thor and Loki would freak out if their sibling were burst into tears at the gifts they got them and the people from Asgard they brought into it. The homesickness would really kick in after all of that. Thor and Loki would both rush to comfort their sibling and calm them down. If their sibling were to make some wholesome comment about family being the best gift of all or something like that it would have Thor smiling like an idiot and Loki smiling softly at them.

The rest of the day would be filled with fun and laughter. Thor would of course have to tell you about how much difficulty Loki had trying to wrap his gift for you and very loudly might I had. It would be even funnier if Loki’s perfect and pristine gift was actually wrapped by Thor while Thor’s scrunched up and messily wrapped gift was Loki’s actual wrapping job. Loki would be utterly ashamed that Thor threw him under the bus like that but he would get him back later. Probably with a snowball to the face cause of course there has to be a snowball fight. And making snow angels but that’ll be saved for after the carnage that takes place when the snowball fight starts up.

#yandere thor odinson #yandere loki laufeyson #yandere marvel #yandere marvel imagine #thor odinson imagine #loki laufeyson imagine #marvel imagine #marvel headcanons #yandere marvel headcanons #yandere headcanons #yandere imagine #yandere #yandere writings #yandere imagines #yandere x reader #yandere x you #x reader #x you #platonic x reader #yandere platonic x reader #platonic #yandere platonic #yandere loki laufeyson x reader #yandere thor odinson x reader

[danosrosegarden]

my love, mine all mine - edward nashton x gn!reader headcanons (slight NSFW) ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

{contains: descriptions of a protective and obsessive edward. very minor illusions to smut but nothing in any detail.}

{note: this piece was a paid commission, and i have permission to share it publicly. find out more about commissioning a piece from me in my pinned post.}

☽ Extracting Edward Nashton’s love from the tired, weary woosh of his heart is no difficult task. He might’ve thought, before you at least, that his body did not hold the proper room for love. Love was far too bright and shimmering of a word, blinding him like the beaming reflection of the sun on scintillating waves. It was far too strong of a feeling, exploding and sizzling in his blood like face-scrunchingly sour candy. Love was neither something he could handle, nor something he believed he needed. He’d survived through his own strength. How demeaning to suggest that he needed a kiss on the cheek or to hold someone’s hand in order to be complete.

☽ But now he has you, and he’s not sure what to do. You’re so easy to fall head over heels for, and it’s an overwhelming high he’s found himself riding. You didn’t force your way through the walls he had built up around himself; you gently grabbed hold of his hand and took each brick down with care and tenderness. You didn’t coo at his sob story or cast pity upon him, looking down at him patronizingly as if he was a starved, abused puppy; you listened carefully to his woes and…well, you were just there for him. You didn’t rush to try to fix what was shattered or leave when it all got too moldy and dark…you simply sat with him through it. So no, extracting Edward’s love from his heart was no difficult task for you. But here’s the kicker…it’s even easier to draw out his lust.

☽ It’s the littlest things that any other person might easily overlook. It’s the way your eyebrow cocks as you ponder the crossword puzzle you two solved together each week. It’s the way you tap the eroded pink eraser of the pencil against your lips as your brain wanders. He wishes he could crawl inside of the deepest wrinkles of your brain. He wishes he could crack you open, flow through your body like your thick, warm blood, protect you like your bones. He wants you and you wholly. He wants you in ways the outside world will never get to see. They don’t deserve it. They don’t deserve you.

☽ It’s sort of a blessing and a curse for Ed, having you in his life. He gets his answered prayer, his angel. But now he constantly worries. His stomach lurches and churns with every bad scenario his mind can conjure whenever you leave. His palms dampen with warm sweat when he thinks about what the world might do to you.

☽ He refuses. He refuses to let the world contaminate you with its filth.

☽ And you wonder. You wonder what’s going through his mind when his hands are gripping your sides like you’ll disintegrate if he lets go. You wonder what could possibly be racing through his body when he growls those words into your ear over and over like a scratched record: mine. Mine. Mine.

☽ When everything else that’s ever resembled goodness and purity and hope has been ripped from his arms, there is no other option. He has no other choice but to protect, to watch over, to keep safe. To ravage and devour and lovingly consume. You’re his, his, only his.

#eli’s writing #danonation #paul dano #edward nashton #the riddler #the batman #edward nashton x reader #the riddler x reader #edward nashton x you #the riddler x you #edward nashton x y/n #the riddler x y/n

[din-miller]

We’re Stronger Together

Pairing: Reader + The Bad Batch (Platonic)

Word count: 4.3k

Summary: It was an unspoken rule; you don’t go on solo missions. But when Rex asked you to aid him in taking down a slave ring, you agreed. The Batch takes an issue with that. Especially when you came back smelling strongly of foul men leaving Hunter to struggle with his heightened senses. The only way to fix that is a giant bantha pile.

Warnings: set after S2, tech is alive, harm to children mentioned, slavery mentioned, non-consensual touching mentioned, (none of which are graphic), protective batch, no romance between reader and the batch, platonic cuddling, so much sibling-relationship content, bantha pile > puppy pile, keldable kisses, female reader

You can’t remember the last time you’ve gone on a solo mission or at least a mission where the Batch hadn’t been involved. You had joined them after Order 66 and wherever they went, you went and vice versa.

Inseparable, the lot of you.

Which is why you’re here, chewing your bottom lip nervously as you watch the argument unfold in front of you. Rex said something rational and Hunter glared, then Echo huffed at Hunter’s behaviour but made no move to step in to defend Rex who's three seconds away from throwing his hands up in frustration, “Look boys, I only need her for a couple days, a week max.”

“That’s not happening.”

Honestly, Rex should’ve seen this argument coming and prepared a better speech.

“Yeah, I kinda agree with Sarge. I don’t like it.” Wrecker rubbed the back of his head, looking a tad lost. He’s never been good at picking sides during arguments and you feel bad for him.

“It’s a simple mission, boys. She’ll be in my line of sight at all times.”

“Armed,” All eyes turned to Crosshair, whose head was turned away from them, seemingly unperturbed by the whole situation. When Rex went to speak, Crosshair sneered, “That wasn’t a question.”

“We might consider it once you tell us why you need her.” Echo said, addressing the eldest clone.

“The mission requires more of a…,” Rex trailed off, trying to find the right words that won’t get him shot, “Feminine touch.”

“Absolutely not,” Hunter pushed himself to stand between you and Rex, blocking the older clone’s view of you, “Find someone else.”

“I can do it!” Omega bravely offered, “I can be feminine.”

“No!” Came a chorus of shouts causing Omega to shrink in on herself before Wrecker pulled her into his side with an apology. Hunter ran a tired hand down his face, giving his own apology to the young girl.

“As much as I appreciate your concerns, it’s my decision.” You looked over at Tech for help. Out of all of them, he’ll be the one to back you up.

Tech nodded in your direction, stepping in to join the conversation, “While I don’t particularly agree with one of us being separated, I can see logic in Rex’s thinking-,”

Wreck sent him a look of disbelief, “How?!”

“-If the goal is to distract the target with a certain female attractiveness, I do believe she’s the best candidate for the role.”

“There was never any doubt about that,” Echo stated, “The issue is that we don’t split up. Any of us. Not after Mount Tantiss.”

Omega nodded in agreement, her mouth twisting down at the mention of Mount Tantiss, “Echo’s right. We stick together.”

Tech adjusted his goggles, avoiding eye contact, “As I said, I do not agree with her going with Rex by herself, but we can not stop her from choosing to aid in this mission. The best we can do is offer our support.”

“Thank you Tech. Look, I’ll take my viroblade with me,” You promised them, moving to Rex’s side, “I’ll be fine guys. I was on my own for years before I met you, I know how to handle a few scumbags.”

“You’re not on your own anymore,” Hunter reminded you, before letting out a defeated sigh, “You will be contacting us every chance you get, you’ll report any injuries to Tech or Echo; I don’t care if Rex’s crew has an all-star medic on board, you comm us.”

“Yes, Sarge. Anything else?”

“You’ll take my blade with you, it’s sharper than yours. You will be getting a crash course in disarming bombs with Wrecker before you leave and most importantly; you will be coming home.”

You look down at the kid who’s nodding along to Hunter’s words, a serious look plastered on her face. You feel a twinge of guilt settled in your chest, but from what Rex has told you about the mission you’re not backing down no matter how crestfallen Wrecker looks.

You attempt a reassuring smile, most likely failing as that guilt shows clear as day despite your best shot at playing it cool. You promised nonetheless, “I’ll be back before Wrecker’s able to pronounce ‘worcestershire’.”

“Hey!” Wrecker cried, but a bright smile took over his previous expression and that twinge inside your chest starts to fade away.

Truth be told, a part of you yearns for this mission. To stretch your feet, to use your muscles and brains outside of your normal mundane life on Pabu. To feel useful in a more powerful way. You also understand why your boys’ are so reluctant to let you leave. To do this mission when they’ve all turned Rex down time and time again.

Hunter’s thirst for battle quickly died out when he watched how Omega thrived in her new life. At the peace she is now able to have, away from bloodshed.

Wrecker’s able to use his strength to help the town folk. Lifting crates, furniture, bags of soil and sand. He’s also taken up construction. He’s able to burn energy without bloodshed.

Tech was never one for battle and after Mount Tantiss, he was more than willing to settle on Pabu. To accept Phee’s dinner invitation. Then the key to her place. One day you hope he’ll accept the ring Phee has tucked away. A loving marriage away from bloodshed.

Echo was the one who adjusted the hardest. Whenever Rex required his help on a mission Echo was always on the front line. But one day you watched him emerge from his room, eyes red and swollen. Another sleepless night and you know he’s done with all the bloodshed.

You don’t ask, you don’t have too. You were there, you remember all of it. You remember Echo’s disbelief over your comm as he said he found Tech. You remember running into the room, seeing Tech floating inside a tube, dead bodies scattered across the floor. You remember Echo’s hand laying flat over the glass that separated him from Tech. You remember the bloody handprint left behind when Echo turned to you.

Most of all you remember the scream that rattled the walls around you. You remember how Echo’s mouth parted, Crosshair’s name falling from his lips before he’s racing down the hallway, metal legs creaking at the strain he’s putting on them.

You remember the crying, the begging, that left Crosshair’s mouth, so broken and scared, as Dr. Hemlock held a blade in his hand and Omega’s still body on the medical table beneath him. You remember the smell of blood, how the red of it dripped onto the floor.

You remember the sound of a blaster fire, a body hitting the floor. You remember Echo desperately trying to hold Omega’s stomach together as he cauterised her skin knowing there’s no time for stitches or bacta patches.

You remember it all so kriffing vividly that the crate you had been moving falls from your grip, dropping loudly to the ships metal floor beneath you, the noise drowning out your gasp as the air around you thins and your lungs ache for steady breaths.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Your head snapped up in Rex’s direction, eyes widening when you spotted the clone trying to bypass Rex and enter the ship, “Crosshair?”

The sniper doesn’t acknowledge you. Instead his attention is solely on the older clone, “You’re sending her into a cantina full of powerful, greedy, vile men who would do anything to have her.”

Rex sighed, “Crosshair-,”

“I understand not wanting the others to be involved, they’re too protective. The second anyone touches her the mission would be ruined and dead bodies make things complicated.”

Rex gave another, deeper sigh, “Your skill sets would prove to be a huge asset to the mission, I’m aware and if I thought you were any different from the rest of them, I would have asked you. I know you Crosshair, you’d be the first to pull the trigger.”

Finally Crosshair’s eyes land in your direction, the subtle pinch of his brow letting you know that the panic that's choking you from the inside is written all over your face. He stared at you, knowingly, “Don’t do this. For your own sake, don’t.”

“The man we’re after is a slave trader. Young kids and helpless women,” You said, although you figured he’s aware of that already, “If you were in my shoes you’d do the same thing. For me, for Omega. Crosshair I need to do this.”

You moved to stand in front of him and you pulled his head down until your foreheads met, an action you’ve only done once before with him. Only this time he’s leaning in instead of pushing you away with a threat of you meeting the barrel of his rifle.

“Take care of the boys and Omega while I’m gone, yeah?”

“I’m not their kriffing babysitter.”

You chuckled and pulled back to meet his gaze, “Take care of yourself too.”

Although the mission only took three days, your body – your soul – is screaming for your family. For their arms around you, their voices reassuring you that you’re okay, that you’re home. That you’re safe.

So when the front door is the only thing that stands between you and them, a weight is lifted from your shoulders. A breath you hadn’t realised you’ve been holding leaves your lungs and you draw in a new one full of relief.

You punched in the house’s code and the green light blinked, lock unlocking. You smiled, opening the door and before you’re fully able to close it behind you, you’re being pushed back against it, Hunter’s face buried in the crook of your neck.

Not exactly the welcome home you’d imagined would be awaiting you.

You looked over at the other boys, hoping to get an explanation. You start with Echo but the clone just leaned back against the couch, a smile on his face. Beside him is Tech; the clone brought a finger up to tap the side of his nose.

Oh

Right. You probably reek of–

“Testosterone.” Hunter snarled, and you can feel the way his nose scrunched up at the smell of male hormones on your person.

“Not the welcoming home I expected,” You joked, trying to push Hunter away but the clone didn’t budge, “Come on I can’t smell that badly, I had a shower on Rex’s ship. Seriously Hunter, at least let me enter the house.”

Hunter finally pulled back, eyes still locked in on the flesh on your neck. You try not to squirm under the intensity of his gaze, or the smug looks from the others. Hunter tilted your head and you're quick to give him access to the other side of your neck despite your earlier protest. He spared no time diving in, head jerking back instantly, nostrils flailing and he growled, “They touched you.”

The smug look on Echo’s face disappeared instantly and he stepped forward, eyes narrowed in on the back of Hunter’s head like he can see the skin where you had been touched through the clone’s skull.

Hunter pressed you back farther against the door, voice demanding as he asked, “Where else?”

“Hunter-,“

“I won’t ask again.”

The sound of tiny feet racing down the hallway saved you from having to answer, from having to admit that they were right. That you weren’t strong enough for the mission. Not without them. Admitting that would make the phantom feeling of hands on your body too real.

You pushed Hunter away and caught the girl just in time, your name falling from her lips as giggles filled the air when you tickled her side. Behind her Wrecker smiled at you, welcoming you home.

“You’re back! I want to hear all about the mission!” Omega said, jumping out of your arms when you tap on her back. She’s grown so much in the last few years and you’re too exhausted to hold her weight, “Sorry, I’m just excited you’re back home. Are you hurt?”

You’re able to give her a quick shake of your head before that phantom touch across your skin is back and you can’t hide the rise of goosebumps on your arms. Not from Hunter at least. The man studies your body language, breathing in the scent of foul men that lingers on your skin, even after using Rex’s refresher to shower.

“Omega, I want every blanket and pillow in this house brought out here,” Hunter turned to address the biggest clone, “Wrecker, clear all the furniture out of the living room.”

“Oh, you betcha!” Wrecker cheered with a grin, “We haven’t had a good ol’ bantha pile in ages!”

“Bantha pile?” You questioned as you watched the two follow Hunter’s orders.

“Yes, it is when a group of people all sleep and/or cuddle together. It was a way for Hunter to memorise our scents growing up. To help calm him,” Tech informed you, “It’s been awhile since we’ve had one, but given that Hunter is indeed struggling with you not smelling like us, the bantha pile is warranted. I’d even say necessary.”

You nodded. It makes a certain amount of sense but you’re not entirely sure it is warranted. To your knowledge they didn’t do this when Crosshair came back, when Tech was found or when Omega healed from her injuries at the hands of Dr. Hemlock. Or maybe they did and you weren’t there, that they didn’t find it necessary to include you.

No, it’s best not to go down that path. You’re here, your boys are crowded around you as you all await for Omega to return and that’s all that matters.

But Tech has always been able to read you and he awkwardly bumped his shoulder against yours, voice hushed, “You’re part of our alitt. You and Echo were dealing with Sid when Hunter and Wrecker welcomed Crosshair, Omega and myself home. We tried waiting for you but Hunter was struggling. It wasn’t an easy call but it was necessary to proceed without you and Echo.”

You brushed a hand over Tech’s and sent him a smile, “I understand, truly. I shouldn’t have questioned my place with you guys.”

“We won’t allow that to happen ever again, ner vod.” He promised and you believe him.

“I got everything!” Omega announced, bouncing back into the room, her voice muffled behind the mountain of fabric balanced in her arms, which Hunter quickly relieved her of. The young clone looked over at Echo, “I got your heated blanket too. I wasn’t sure if our body heat will be enough to keep you warm through the night. Better safe than sorry, right?”

“I…” Echo blinked, accepting his blanket as he fumbled for words. No matter how long you all have known Omega, the smaller clone always finds ways of surprising her family with her never-ending kindness. Echo cleared his throat, “Thank you, Omega.”

She beamed up at him, brushing off his thanks as she grabbed a handful of pillows to scatter around the living room. Wrecker and Hunter followed behind her with blankets. Eventually the room was approved for a bantha pile by Wrecker’s standards and six bodies started to settle in for the night.

With Hunter against your left side, head buried in your neck, his lips gazing the skin over your pulse point and Wrecker snuggled behind him, Echo moved to claim his spot on your other side as Tech sat cross legged by your lower right leg and Omega’s balanced on your chest leaving just Crosshair left to pick his spot.

“There’s still room.” You pointed out to him, silently hoping he’ll join.

Crosshair looked down at the pile, disgust written all over his face, “Not happening.”

“C’mon brother,” Wrecker patted the empty spot behind him, “You know you want to.”

The sniper may be rough around the edges but he’s not immune to his brothers’ pleas. He’ll cave, you know so.

“Not in the slightest. I’d rather eat glass than be sandwiched between you all.”

“Fine, but you’ll regret it.” Wrecker shrugged, snuggling closer into Hunter’s side, his large arm thrown over the smaller body to rest on your arm.

Crosshair rolled his eyes, “Doubt it.”

Tech glanced up from his datapad, “I have informed Phee that I will be staying another night here,” He looked at you, “She is pleased that you have returned unharmed and has invited you for dinner tomorrow if that is to your liking.”

“Tell her there’s no other place I’d rather be.”

He nodded, “I will inform her immediately, she will be happy to hear so.”

Omega frowned, rifling through the blankets, “Where’s Lula?”

Wrecker’s head shot up, alarmed and you glanced around until you spotted her by the hallway entrance. You pointed Omega to the toy, “You must have dropped her.”

Omega looked over at her brother, eyes wide and childlike, “Crosshair? Can you get her?”

The clone looked at her, then the pile of blankets and pillows that were basically drowning her small frame, before blowing out an annoyed sigh, but he went and got the toy anyway. He carelessly threw it in her direction, which earned a cry of protest from Wrecker. Crosshair rolled his eyes in response before crouching down beside Echo, moving his blanket aside.

The former ARC Trooper’s body stiffened when a pair of hands met his pelvic. Then he flinched away from Crosshair’s touch when the clones fingers found the clasps of his prosthetic legs. You watched slightly puzzled at what was happening.

Crosshair’s fingers froze for a fleeting second before he scowled down at Echo, “Relax Reg, if I have to suffer sleeping here tonight I’m at least going to make sure my nuts stay intact.”

A puff of air met your skin as Hunter grunted, “Language Crosshair, the kids here.”

Omega giggled as she settled comfortably on your chest, “I’m not a kid, Hunter.”

Beside you, Echo flicked his youngest brother’s arm, “I don’t move in my sleep.”

Wrecker let out an loud laugh, “Ha, good one Echo!”

“You could sleep on the other side of the bantha pile,” Echo cocked his head over to where Wrecker is, “Snuggle up behind Wrecker. He doesn’t sweat that much.”

“I’d rather not. Now are you going to let me continue?” Crosshair gestured to the prosthetics.

Echo nodded, moving to make it easier for his brother to reach the clasps, “You better not steal my blanket throughout the night.”

“What are you going to do? Chase me?” Crosshair jeered, but his tone held no malice behind it and Echo for his part just playfully shoved the sniper back until his ass met the floor. Beside you Hunter mumbled something incomprehensible into the crook of your neck while Wrecker and Omega laughed as Crosshair scowled up at them.

Once the prosthetics were removed, Crosshair huddled underneath Echo’s heated blanket with him, keeping enough distance from the clone for it not to be weird. Crosshair’s words, not Echo’s. The latter couldn’t care less, especially when the added warmth helped him sleep soundly.

With them both settled in for the night Tech was able to finally curl himself against your thigh, directly underneath Echo, giving the fact that without the clone’s prosthetics there’s now room for Tech to lie down and be close to you.

“This is… nice.” You said, pulling Echo in closer to your body when he struggled to do so himself without use of his prosthetic legs. His prosthetic arm had been taken off too. Most likely so you don’t get hit by it.

“Aw, yeah it is!” Wrecker’s usual loudness is muffled by Hunter’s shirt and the older clone chuckled at the rough vibration that spread across his back.

Omega propped herself up to rest her head in her hands, her elbows pressing against your chest and you hid the wince when her pointed appendages dug into your sternum.

Her eyes twinkled as they met yours, “We’ve missed you,” She exclaimed, the twinkle in her eyes grew brighter, “Tech barely left the house, Phee brought over food for us but we ended up giving it to the shelter ‘cause Echo went bananas and made enough food for the entire village! And Wrecker built a giant shed in a day! The Unstoppable Machine they called him. Oh and Crosshair slept at the gun range every night. Echo had to bring him food and a pillow and blanket-,”

You blew out a disappointed sigh. Leave it to Crosshair to do the exact opposite of what you said. Taking care of yourself does not equal three nights at the gun range. Crosshair hid his head in Echo’s shoulder shielding himself away from your scowl.

“Hunter wouldn’t leave my side,” Omega continued, “I wasn’t even allowed to sleep over at the Hazards. It’s okay though. Truthfully, I didn’t feel like sleeping away from home anyways.”

You swallowed around the lump in your throat. You knew they didn’t want you to go but you never really knew how much pain you’re absent brought the six of them.

“I’m so sorry,” You whispered into the silence of the room, “I’m here now and I’m not leaving ever again, I promise.”

Omega held out her hand, little finger up, “Pinky promise?”

You locked your smallest finger around hers and brought them both up to your lips, pressing a delicate kiss to her skin, “To the brightest stars and back.”

Omega was the first to fall asleep, followed quickly by Echo; the warmth of his blanket and your body heat lulled him into a peaceful slumber. Wrecker was next, his snores unnaturally quiet for a man his size. Small blessings, truly.

Tech’s head is pillowed on your thigh, his datapad loosely held in his hand, conversation with Phee most likely cut short by his sleep. Out of all your boys your heart is warmed by him the most. He’s the only one who doesn’t live here, he’s the only one who has spent four nights away from their partner. He’s never once complained about it and you know neither has Phee; she’d let Tech spend a thousand more nights here if that’s what he needs.

Crosshair and Hunter were the last to drift off, their bodies on high alert, tracking any movement that could possibly take you away from them. Crosshair once said that nothing is ever too good to be true, but like most things the sniper’s believed, he’s wrong. Because you’re here for good, and that’s true.

You felt a nudge against your right side and you rolled your eyes fully expecting to get an ear full of Tech’s latest discoveries during your absence but instead you're met with an unreadable expression as Crosshair stared at you.

He doesn’t say anything and he looks more pissed off than before. It’s late and you're tired, physically and emotionally and the last thing you want is an angry clone glaring at you through the night.

“This wasn’t my idea,” You reminded him, tone a little rougher than it probably should be, “But I’m not going to have you ruin it because I need this. I might have only been gone for three days but I was alone for each one and you were here, with the boys’ and Omega.”

He’s silent, eyes sharp almost like he’s studying you. When he does speak it sounds like it’s through gritted teeth, “Where else?”

And, oh

You had been expecting that question from Hunter, maybe even Echo, but not him.

You sighed and let your head fall back against your pillow. Whenever the gentleman got too bold, you were able to direct their attention somewhere other than your body… but sometimes you just weren’t fast enough.

“You were right, the others wouldn’t have been able to sit and watch,” You shifted your eyes back to the sniper, “The man grabbed me, pulled me into his lap and sometimes when I close my eyes, I can feel his breath against my skin and I hate it.”

The arms locked around you tighten, Hunter's head unburing itself from your neck, his breathing falling to the softest puffs against your skin. You honestly should have known that he wouldn’t fully be asleep.

You sighed, pulling Omega closer to your chest, needing to feel her heartbeat, letting it ground you, “Rex was immediately lifting me off of him and using his body as a shield, keeping me out of the man’s sight. What was supposed to be a stealth mission turned into a full blown blaster fight. What was it you said Crosshair? ‘Dead bodies make things complicated’?”

“Sometimes complicated is necessary for survival,” Crosshair said, “It may have not gone down the way you wanted it to, but tonight there are people finding their freedom from slavery and that’s because there are good people out there willing to fight for them. People like you.”

Your throat constricted at his words and you felt the beginning of tears build up, you do your best to blink them away before they get a chance to escape.

“You’re not leaving us again, right?” Hunter’s voice was rough, and it was clear from the way he asked the question that there was only one acceptable answer.

“No, never again,” You replied, before asking your own question, “Do I smell better now?”

Hunter made a show of taking in a deep breath, pausing for a second before giving a slow nod, “You smell like my aftershave, Echo’s mechanical oil for his prosthetics, Omega’s shampoo, Phee’s perfume that lingers on Tech’s clothes and the chemical ingredients in Tech’s eye drops.”

“Wrecker and Crosshair?”

“By the morning you’ll smell like them too. I promise.”

“Good, but in case I don’t; I’m not doing anything tomorrow night.”

Crosshair pressed his front flushed against Echo’s back and threw his arm over his brother's body to rest on top of Omega’s back, “If we must, I'm making Wrecker bring the mattresses down here. I’m getting too old for this shit.”

You laced your fingers with his across Omega’s body, “Deal.”

A/N: I’ve had one rule when it comes to tbb. I don’t write for Crosshair – He’s a hard character to write – So how the heck did I manage to include him in 80% of this fic?! I’m not sure I was able to capture his personality completely but I hope I did him justice. (runs and hides)

#the bad batch #tbb #tbb hunter #tbb wrecker #tbb echo #tbb tech #tbb omega #tbb crosshair #tbb rex #tbb x platonic reader #justice joy writes #tbb fanfiction