#he's also her alarm clock :]
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IT'S BUNNY TIME EVERYBODY
(feat. Dilla)
(bugle accompaniment by Yuu)
#art#twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland spoilers#white rabbit festival#ah...the eternal dilemma of 'is it hair dye or whimsical anime hair'. and so we roll the dice again.#so it's canon now that yuu is inexplicably great at bugling. everybody get ready to incorporate that incredible trivia into your characters#anyway HELLO THERE madam spade#i think we have enough evidence now to say that you're not allowed into nrc unless you have an absolutely smoking mom#(riddle's mom has a smoking crater where her heart should be but we digress)#dilla likes two things: BIG VANS and also telling her son's friends all about how he used to literally refuse to not dress like a bunny#and yet now he does not wish to dress like a bunny. :( deuce what HAPPENED#meanwhile epel is too polite to whine at his best friend's mom so he's just hoping vil never finds out he wore a bonnet#silver is like 'i'm the handsomest little marching band boy. i'm taking this outfit back to show everyone.'#and ortho put all his points into POWERFUL THIGHS#he minmaxed leg day and is going to go kick a tree in half#can't wait for part 2 to see if they resolve the exciting cliffhanger of whether or not silver finds an alarm clock
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Can't relate
I say as I laugh in 10 alarms, 4 missed check up calls, 1 dog (35 lbs) dropped on me, and a karate chop (right in the stomach) from my sister
Also
This would be my reaction but in the opposite direction. Four alarms is not nearly enough for Silver. That boy needs an entire collection!
#im exaggerating#it's usually the 10 alarms and 4 missed calls#but the dog and karate chop has happened before#it was my sister's day off that day and she hates being forced to wake up outside her schedule#especially at 6am#if Silver ever starts an alarm clock collection#i hope he gets one that's an angry crocodile that uses recordings of Sebek shouting at Silver to wake up#even better if Sebek gifts it to him#Silver should also get similar ones but with Lilia and Malleus#i think that would be cute for Silver#to have the whole gang there to try and wake him up#even if they can't be there in person#I'm not caught up with book 7 but I worry that the Lilia one might give him sad feels so idk#twisted wonderland#twst#twst silver#deuce spade#white rabbit fest#oh and the purpose of putting the dog on me was so the dog could lick my face and believe that my bed is free real estate
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What if Peepers got left behind with the main duo tho (Patreon)
#Doodles#Wander Over Yonder#Wander#Commander Peepers#Sylvia#Dynamics ✨#Technically I have more to this idea but it ended up a bit meandering so y'know how it is lol#One of these days I'll learn how to draw the actual main characters but it's not today lol#That said I am very pleased with how Sylvia turned out in the first panel lol her Snoopy poses always get me bad <3#She may not Like the cutes but she Is the cutes so there ♪#This is basically just a character swap The Little Guy but also that episode already happened? Idk I'll figure it out as I go lol#The important parts to me were Peepers in a position with no authority and already-established dynamics with these two#Westley growing to trust them is fun and all but Peepers already knows them interpersonally - from fairly early on! The Prisoner et al#He's not in danger - at least with Wander there lol he turns his back and Sylvia rears back and he turns again and Peepers is cowering#Poor lad haha ♪ They'll go off to fight by themselves at some point#Both of them having a proper sparring partner they're not afraid to hurt tho?? This is why their dynamic works honestly lol#But just the thought of him being equal parts defensive and trying to use them for safe haven until Hater comes back to get him lol#Unlike Westley they really can't function without him so they'd make a return trip once they noticed but how long would that take ♪#So until then he has to get cozy! (Impossible)#But really the thought of no Hater acting as his alarm clock no force to manage no paperwork no schedule - I think it would stress him out#He's a creature of habit! He's lost without his familiar-and-knowns! Waking up to birdsong and bright sunshine is alien and wrong!#Hell even sleeping to crickets and the soft and warm breathing of other bodies - it's all strange and uncomfortable ♫#Probably gets up in the middle of the night - carefully - to lay a trap that Chekov Gun-style foils him or Hater by the end lol#Anything to settle him! It would take way longer than the Skullship returning to sway his deep-rooted habits hehe
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baby talk
#ts4 gameplay#sims 4 gameplay#postcard legacy challenge#their bedroom in the new house is so warm :(#danny's bedside table has his phone / an alarm clock / and a succulent#he also keeps the book he’s currently reading on the bottom#rosie's has an empty mug w a tea bag / a trinket dish / and her water bottle#this conversation happens in the early morning before danny heads to work#rosa has been up listening to a teenage adrien move about the house as he prepares for his day and she realizes that she wants more kids#postcard: gen2#queue#sim: rosa han#sim: danny avagyan
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Multiple people pointed out the mandrake in my post the other day so I need to inform you all that
him. His name is Sneeve, he crawls up sleeves and falls asleep in them and eats bugs off the ground <3
#peliginart#hallowrove tag#not Hallowrove but look at him look at him look at him. look. at Himb#this is Hallowrove's little guy he's usually in their pocket or clinging to their collar#or he's in a pot on her mantle#he's also her alarm clock :]#he is Loud
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Can I rq a little doodle, just one for an ask or smth I love seeing your art
ok so this one has a liiiiiittle bit of a story behind it sit down get your popcorn So it's kinda based on/inspired by this reblog by @ohwell-itsme-but-danganronpa that made me slowly realize that despite the big role Nanami is probably gonna play in the Jabberwock kid's lives(esp Kokichi n Kiibo), she's also never going to be able to hug them - unless they like sneak into the NWP for the sole purpose of giving her a hug, which I honestly wouldn't put past Kokichi tbh - and sent me into a long long thought into how much she cares about just about everyone and AAAGH it made me think a lot about her in the au so please know that despite being all ai she's basically everywhere all the time
#eggs can answer#eggs can art#g-eetings#danganronpa#chiaki nanami#kokichi ouma#usami#oh sorry#Magical Girl Miracle ★ Usami#much better#yeah Nanami gets around#she's Hajime's alarm clock (aka once his alarm clock gets snoozed for the third time she starts yelling at him)#She's the person keeping all Togami's meetings and just his entire schedule in order#She checks in on the kids and keeps them out of trouble via Kokichi's vtech kidizoom smartwatch (purple color) that he's had since ever#She helps Komaeda monitor Naegi's online image/pr (Komaeda is the entirety of Naegi's pr team Nanami helps him out sometimes tho)#She 100% helps the kids cheat on tests I'm sorry she spoils them they're her little goofballs#She helps Souda work on Kiibo when needed (and helps Alter Ego perform System Maintenance ofc)#She also hangs out with The Jabberwock gang via Komaeda's arm (It has a little screen that he can use like a wider smartwatch kinda??#she uses it to hang out and yell at him to take his meds)#She also helps Monaca make tiktoks sometimes (THEY BOTH STAY SILLY AND STEAL FROM THE GOVERNMENT)#lol you asked for art and you got a ramble too sorry :P
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It is so funny how Andy is like, lmao. I am so glad this rolled in his favor because in my head I was like he would never fall for this.
Andy is like you may be older than me [he doesn't know yet; well for sure] but I invented this game.
#so it goes without saying he can read and play it better#andy's life and times in faerun#bg3: elkantar yauntyrr#character insight#meet my tavs#insight: bg3#it is so funny to me that my >[ peeps are the ones who see through it best#tho i dont think the others care?#i think in a sense adair and sekryd aren't unaware but they're more come as you are#sekryd has no deep care for astarion to pry deeper#and adair is already pretty sure he doesn't like xem/just tolerates him so it's like ... and she's also so very Her. so whatever his#approach it doesnt bother xem#but also i think he's used to it from the nobility? so it's a mix of sees through it and doesn't? like adair lowkey clocks it but it doesn'#really ring alarm bells lmao#people have their secrets and it's not his business. while i think for sekryd it's like people have their secrets and HIS [astarion's] not#a concern for her#i think of the lot i play in any active way rn kaeliana - my durge roflmao - might be the only one who falls for it#which is so funny bc she is a liar who lies#anyway im pondering this too much for characters i said i wouldnt ponder so much lmao
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pauwi nako by oc dawgs but it's. it's junnana and mahikaren (polycule) post-movie. but it's kinda more junnana but it fits mahikaren too.
#crow talks#revue starlight#junnana#mahikaren#this is mostly bc of the whole thing abt (from what i can roughly translate) this dude excited to see his lover after a while#i do not know all of the lyrics and their meaning so tell me im wrong lol#this is bc i remembered my dad playing this when he came back to the philippines for a bit#and my cousin making this their alarm clock.#i am throwing out all of my filipino headcanons and ur gonna deal w it im sorry#(also this can be read as hikari being half pinoy or her just know tagalog through unknown means)
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Who will get there first: Pendles reaching 10,000 disposals or Todd Michael Goldstein reaching 10,000 hitouts
#aflm#Essendon are trying to copy us#we're saying only 4 disposals to go and Essendon obviously looked up the stats and saw Todd is 26 away from 10k#this is unfair#also why isn't Draco Malfoy playing??? THIS IS HIS DAY#he dyed his hair blond for nothing#embarrassing#also i can't sleep because i feel bad i shouldn't have looked at Tony's timesheet sure they told me to but#i shouldn't have been so loud about it as well#i just#I'm an idiot#ok gonna go back to sleep#i think my alarm is still set to go off at 7#why don't alarms understand public holidays??????#alarms are sentient but they're just assholes#they're like 'hm it's anzac day maybe we'll let her sleep today--- GET UP LOSER!!!'#it's really mean#alarm clocks and Sophia are the same#like you know that deep down they care and they don't want to yell but they feel they have to#it's fair enough#otherwise I'll just spend the entire day sending out tax returns and filing and#i need her to yell at me re: terms of engagement letters and to do an interim invoice for $8000 because she doesn't have money for wages and#do normal bosses say that#i can't remember other bosses I've had but i don't think any specifically told me every week that they need money for the wages#like it's lying too because she always pays us so why say it????#make us feel guilty about being paid#as if we should be working for free????
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Fushiguro Megumi never wanted to have children.
Yet, here he was at the ripe age of 26 waking up in the early hours of the morning to his daughter’s quiet whimpering. His eyes immediately want to close, but his body is pushing him up from the plush of your warm bed.
There, in the bassinet beside him, was your three month old little girl. Her eyes weren’t even open yet, but her tiny lips were wobbling. Small chubby face contorted as she dreamt about something she clearly didn’t enjoy.
It made Megumi’s heart ache, carefully pushing down the side of the bassinet so he could scoop her up.
“Now what’s with this fussing, hmm?” Megumi’s voice came out gravelly, thick with sleep, and yet your daughter visibly calmed at that familiarity of it.
“It’s too early and you’re too little to be having bad dreams.” He cooed softly, cradling her so her head was right above his heart. The two of you had learned over the last 3 months that your heartbeats calmed her.
“Are you hungry?” Megumi murmured softly, sleepy eyes landing on the alarm clock on his nightstand. “You probably are… if you woke up like you usually do for mama to feed you.” Which would be around 3am.
Given that it was nearly seven in the morning, your little baby was likely ready to eat again.
“Alright, baby. Let’s go get you something to eat.” Megumi hummed softy, pleased with himself as he managed to get out of bed with baby girl in his arms and not disturb anyone in the process.
He had gotten increasingly confident with his baby handling skills over the last three months.
He certainly still had a bit of worry to him when it came to walking with her, but he could move around and function with one arm easily.
“How about we make mama breakfast after you eat?” He asked her softly, placing one of the frozen bags of milk into the water he heated. It would be a lot faster to just wake you up and have her feed then and there, but Megumi prioritized your sleep.
… and baby girl was content right now so he knew she’d survive the ten minutes it took to prep the bottle.
Megumi actually cherished those ten minutes, each morning when the Sun had just peaked over the horizon. When he could lean against the counter and hold her in his arms, memorizing every inch of her perfect little face.
Making the choice to move out to the country side shortly after finding out you were pregnant a year ago has been the best choice.
Every morning was tranquil, no sound of traffic or construction or even crowds of people for that matter.
Just nature, children laughing as they walked to school, normal people getting ready for their normal lives… everything he had wished for as a child.
She began to fuss again, stopping the moment Megumi brought her face up to his and kissed her cheeks softly. “Good morning, sweet girl.” Her eyes opened slowly, large and sleepy and the same color as yours.
“Let daddy put it in the bottle and then you can eat.” She seemed to understand him, cooing softly as he kissed her little forehead before settling her in one arm again.
Megumi had become a pro at making bottles, now he barely had to think when doing so.
Before he used to be meticulous, hands shaking as he measured everything out. Now, it came naturally, turning out perfect each time. “Here we go, sweet girl.”
He sunk into the sofa, a bib around her neck to prevent spit ups and a burp cloth over his shoulder. She took the bottle happily, little hand coming up to rest on top of Megumi’s while the other played with her bib.
“Is it good?” He murmured, smiling widely as her eyes focused on him and him alone.
As if he were her entire world.
Megumi also learned to cherish these little moments, because he knew the second you were present, there was nothing on this planet that would tear her eyes away from you. Three months old and it was already clear she was going to be a mama’s girl.
“What are we going to make mama for breakfast, hmm? I’m sure she’ll be starving when she wakes up.” She only blinked at him, suckling on the bottle contently as she listened to his voice. “How about her favorite?”
Megumi tapped her backside softly, body subconsciously rocking a bit to comfort her further as she ate.
“We have everything we need to make mama’s favorite breakfast. The trick is going to be making it without her waking up to the smell of it. She has a good nose.”
She let go of the bottle, letting Megumi take it away so he could place her on his shoulder and burp her.
He had to admit, the things he thought would be so tedious were easily his favorite. Bonding with his baby had been as easy as falling in love with you.
It felt natural, as if it was what he was meant to do.
“Good mornin~” you yawned, startling Megumi slightly as he looked over at you. “What are you doing up?” He scolded softly, it was far too early for you to be awake.
“Hungry, missed the two of you.” You shuffled over to the couch, sitting down carefully as to not disturb your little girl. “I didn’t want to interrupt daddy-daughter time but I woke up missing you both terribly.”
Your cheek was pressing to Megumi’s shoulder, hand coming down to rest on top of your baby and Megumi’s hand. It was no surprise that her eyes seemed to become more alert at the sound of your voice.
“Good morning my precious girl.”
You cooed softly, leaning a little further into Megumi so you could see her face around the bottle.
“We were going to surprise you with breakfast.” Megumi pouted, head turning to kiss the crown of your head as you sighed. “We can make it together, instead.”
“No, you can relax while I make it.” Megumi corrected, making you chuckle at his need to keep you on bed rest.
“Megumi, I want to help you make it. It’s more rewarding for me to help you.” You hum, lifting your head to kiss his shoulder before moving your head back. “And since I’m up early, it means we can take a family nap later.”
That seemed to stop Megumi from retaliating, giving in easily at that point simply because of the promise of cuddles. “Alright, fine. You can help with breakfast.”
You were content with that, in the same way Megumi was content with his finally normal life.
#scheduled#jujutsu kaisen headcanons#jujutsu kaisen imagine#jujutsu kaisen scenarios#jjk imagines#jjk headcanons#jjk scenarios#jujutsu kaisen fluff#jjk fluff#fushiguro megumi#megumi fanfic#megumi headcanons#jjk megumi#jujutsu megumi#megumi x reader#jujutsu kaisen megumi#fushiguro megumi fluff#megumi fushiguro headcanons#megumi fluff#megumi fushiguro#megumi imagine#megumi x you#megumi x y/n
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MY BEATIN’ HEART BELONGS TO YOU - L.H.
Summary: Logan believed he was sentenced to a life of solitude until he found you - an unexpected dawn promising the sunrise of a love he always deemed impossible. But then again, destiny never was merciful to fools like him.
Pairing: Logan Howlett x Female Reader
Warnings: Soulmate AU, All aboard the Fluff Train with scheduled stops at Angst Station, Established relationship, Hurt/Comfort, How I Met Your Mother reference (iykyk), Reader can manipulate electricity
A/N: 5.9k - strap in, gang. Would you believe me if I said all this was inspired by a debate I had with a friend about the implications of 'I want you' vs 'I need you'. The mind works in silly, little ways sometimes. Title creds to Green Day. Enjoy, you lovely people!
MASTERLIST
Gone were the days when nightmares would rouse him from the sanctuary of sleep. Logan couldn't remember the last time he'd awoken in a cold sweat, sheets shredded from fighting invisible monsters, alarm clock glaring an angry red amongst the darkness. No, all that disappeared once you'd made a home within his arms.
It had been about three months, verging on four if anyone was keeping count - and he, most definitely, was - since you'd swept him away in a tide of fondness and pure affection. The shadow of a man who once roamed the mansion now nurtured a newfound lightness in his heart. Logan wasn't perfect, far from it, chosen paths that only led to a labyrinth of despair, but he was right about one thing: you.
And that verdict especially rings true every morning. The tangle of limbs, the soft ebb and flow of sleepy murmurs, the stray kisses grazing warm skin, he wonders how he'd survived so long deprived of such tender pleasures. He's never going back, that much he knows.
His lips trace a lazy line along your neck, lingering a second longer beneath your jaw. There's a chuckle aching to break through at the thought of your sleep-induced irritation - it’s too early, you'd whine each time. And each time, his half-hearted apologies would be long-forgotten as you meet his gaze, a tempest of desire swirling within hazel.
It's amidst the following moments of peace when he's most thankful for the thick walls surrounding the room. The aftermath of your intimate exchanges always leaves him mesmerised, heart racing at the reminder of your touch. His mutation didn't allow for the full effects of alcohol to poison his inhibitions, yet as your smile gleams at him, Logan's sure he's never been more drunk.
"Where're you goin'?"
He's shaken from his musings as you roll away from his embrace, huffing in disbelief when you don't seem to stop. But, the string of complaints dies on his tongue as he watches you slip on the shirt he'd discarded the night before, turning around amused, "What? You wanna stay here all day?"
"Got nowhere to be."
"Correction - you have nowhere to be. I, on the other hand, need to grade those assignments or Jean'll actually explode my brain this time."
Logan hmphs. He'd been looking forward to lounging around this weekend, positively thrilled at the idea of letting the hours simply trickle away in the quiet comfort of your company. However, he's also one too familiar with Jean's intolerance for slacking off and lessons were definitely learned.
"Let her try," he counters meekly.
As you circle the bed to part ways with a chaste kiss, Logan seizes the opportunity to pull you down, pinning you beneath him in one effortless move. His lips capture yours with a deliberate, sensual slowness - the urgency from earlier now completely absent. The feeble protests vanish from your mind as he breaks away, a twinkle of mischief playing on his smile.
His fingers trace the curve of your wrist, hovering over the faint crescent moon inked in black. It was the mark of your soulmate. Of him, he hopes. You'd shown him quite early into the relationship, spending many a night whispering theories and speculations about its meaning. At first, he expressed only timid fascination, a question here and there spurred by gentle curiosity while you rambled on and on. But as his heart began to tether itself to yours, the mark took on a new significance. Every time his gaze fell upon it, his thoughts would spiral from longing and self-doubt, wondering if he was the one destined to share a lifetime with you.
Over the decades he'd been alive, Logan had searched every crevice of his body for his own. In his youth, it was a fleeting thought, brushed aside by the assumption that his healing factor wouldn't allow for these scars. Yet as time passed, he was terrified of waking up to a branded promise - a cruel trick that condemned his soulmate to a life with him. After he met you, those fears were soon eclipsed by a yearning, a desperate hope for a sign of his worthiness. Every day, he lingered by the mirror, gaze sweeping across his reflection, praying for an identical crescent moon to mark his skin.
"Logan." Your laugh draws his attention, "I'm never leaving the bed at this rate."
"Darlin', that's the general idea."
He relents anyway, falling onto his back with a soft grunt as you stand up. The dopey grin you're biting has him narrowing his eyes in suspicion, wondering what goddamn joke popped into your mind. Before he can question it, you straighten your posture and salute, "General Idea."
A look of confusion contorts his features, though he doesn't get anything besides a mumbled response as you leave the room, "Never mind, it's from a show."
A mountain of papers sits perched on your desk illuminated by the warm glow of the lamp, the scratching of your pen punctuating the silence of the classroom as you continue grading your students' assignments. It had been a couple of hours since you left Logan amongst the nest of blankets. And that image only seemed more enticing with each word you read.
"Missed ya."
Speak of the devil.
Except this devil was an angel - you could almost see a halo shimmering around his figure, backlit by the sunlight flooding the hallway. Every time you think you've captured the essence of his allure, he defies your expectations, often with just a simple gesture. And despite the countless compliments and declarations of adoration, Logan still seemed surprised by flattery, his lips always seeking yours to hide the blush creeping up his cheeks.
"I just saw you like - "
"In the shower," he interrupts, smirk widening as he approaches. He leans against the chair, nose brushing against your exposed shoulder.
Something in your brain short-circuits at his words and the casual display of affection. You stammer a little, "You… didn't tell me."
"Oh, that would've worked hm?" Logan spins the chair around, chuckling as he catches your flustered expression, "'M sorry, sweetheart... guess I gotta make it up to ya."
You never thought Logan was a romantic. Yet, time and time again you discover the depths of his boundless capacity for love and companionship. It wasn't just the whispered promises and passionate revelations, but the quiet moments, the stolen glances, the tender touches that speak volumes. Neither of you had uttered those three words yet, though they hang heavy in the air, unspoken but deeply felt.
His hand winds up beneath your shirt, bunching the fabric near your waist as he pulls you closer. Heat, courtesy of the shower, wafts off his skin, a tantalizing sensation that makes your breath hitch. His tongue toys with your lower lip, teasing just enough that you find yourself chasing after him, desperate for more. The laugh he produces, though smug, is also contagious, a sound that never fails to swallow your heart.
Again and again, he'd professed his desire to unravel you by his sheer touch, how your craving for him sets his insides ablaze. And judging by the way your eyes darken, mouth parting almost reflexively, he's got you dancing to his tune like a puppet on a string - and you wouldn't have it any other way.
But he backs off all of a sudden.
A crescendo of footsteps echoes down the hallway and the moment is shattered. Three of your students barge in, out of breath and frazzled as they clutch their assignments. A frown creases Logan's brow, annoyance he's certainly putting no effort to hide has them second-guessing their intrusion until you beckon them in with a warm smile. With a hasty apology, they fumble with their papers, eyes darting between the two of you before rushing out, the door swinging shut.
"We gotta find a place," he grumbles, dipping forward into your neck.
"We already live together."
A sharp click of his tongue, a playful nip to your shoulder, seals his disapproval, "Not enough. Lil' brats interrupt every damn time."
He wasn't wrong in the slightest. The kids did seem to have an uncanny ability to sense the most inopportune times to interfere. Sometimes you joked that it was one of their mutant powers and Logan, with an amused roll of his eyes, would just scoff and agree. You can't help but chuckle, "'Least it wasn't Scott... I think we traumatised him last week."
It was indeed last week when the two of you retreated to the Danger Room. Of course, with the sole and noble intention of honing your defensive tactics. However, the moment you strategically knocked him off his feet, the situation had taken a decidedly different turn. Pinned beneath you, Logan held a look of astonishment that soon morphed into something much more eager. He'd uttered all of two words before your lips slammed against his and whatever hopes you had for training immediately became the least of your worries. That was until somebody walked in.
He huffs a laugh, the memory filling him with satisfaction, "Should've used his fuckin' brain with those sounds you were makin'."
"Oh god, poor Scott," you mumble, embarrassed by the thought.
"Quit sayin' his name." The growl that curls his words leaves goosebumps in its wake. Logan grips your chin, tilting your head back slightly, a slow grin unfurling as his gaze bores into yours.
"I said it twice!" you protest, but it's all in vain. His thumb drags across your lip, silencing your words.
"That's two more than I care for."
It's dark outside by the time he's done with you.
Sugar melts on his tongue, the velvety texture of chocolate dancing across his palate. Logan takes a rather indulgent sip, the steaming liquid warming his throat. Nestled on opposite sides of the window seat, the two of you share a quiet moment accompanied by nothing but pale moonlight. A comforting weight settles on your feet, his hand kneading the stress away with care. Outside, a delicate snowfall paints the mansion's grounds, grass slowly fading away, droplets racing down the windowpane.
Dinner had wound down hours ago. The kids gathered around the living room after, wide-eyed with wonder as the first snow of the season began. Charles eventually ushered them off to bed, Logan had planned to follow suit until your gentle tug derailed his desire to sleep altogether. And as always, there's no world where he'd deny you anything.
He sees you stifle a giggle every now and then, your eyes twinkling with amusement each time he lifts his mug. It was nothing fancy - mostly white, adorned with a line of stockings and, cheekily, the words "Well hung".
It was a present from you a few Christmases ago. He remembers you watching him warily unwrap the box, laughing out of giddiness as he blushed when the implication dawned on him. It's just a silly gift, you'd reassured, not pressuring him to even keep it. Yet, since then, it remained a permanent fixture on his bedside table. During restless nights, he'd reach for the familiar mug, seeking solace in the kitchen to drink away the looming shadows of insomnia.
It wasn't until your first night together that you saw it again after all those years, carefully placed and by far, the cleanest thing on his table. Logan ducked his head sheepishly before confessing just how much he treasured the sentiment. In a lifetime of solitude, someone had spared a second to think about him, even for a simple gag gift. And that thought warmed his heart a little on especially hard days.
"You're a child," he chides as you smile, rolling his eyes.
You scoff under your breath, "Oh, just cause you're a hundred years old."
"Hundred and sixty," he corrects, grabbing your foot mid-air before you can nudge his thigh. There's a brief pause as he places the mug aside, a wicked grin splitting his lips. Laughter fills the air as you squirm and wriggle away, quickly understanding the look behind his eyes. But Logan moves faster. His hands trail their way to your sides, drawing squeals of protest as he tickles you.
Seconds later, he backs off, satisfied by your reaction. Shifting his weight, he settles on top of you with a gentle press. As he lays against your chest, humming softly in contentment, the soothing caress of your fingers through his hair lulls him into a state of relaxation. The world simply fades away, replaced by the warmth of your embrace and the quiet flush of domestic bliss. A profound swell of gratitude spreads within his heart. It's during intimate moments like these that he feels especially lucky. A far cry from the man brought into this mansion years ago, times you also reflect on amidst late-night conversations.
The memories remain as vivid as yesterday.
It was late in the afternoon, the setting sun casting long silhouettes across the classroom. You stood by the blackboard, explaining the laws of electromagnetism while scribbling equations in chalk. For months, you'd taken over Charles' role as the physics professor, and what began as a favour soon grew into a passion. However, some days were particularly slow. A palpable sense of boredom washed over your students as their eyes drifted towards the clock in anticipation. Just as you were about to begrudgingly dismiss them, the door flew open - a dishevelled figure clad in gray burst in, wildly panting in fear and confusion.
This must be Logan, you concluded, recalling the latest mission debrief from Scott and Storm. They'd rescued two mutants in Canada, one of whom was particularly banged up and recovering in the med bay. Well, until now. Since their arrival, Charles had emphasised the erratic nature of Logan's mind, even unconscious, a part of him stayed unyielding against the telepath's powers. But as you locked eyes with him, you saw none of that. Instead, he seemed lost and terrified, glancing around the room from one corner to the next as if someone was speaking. Before you could offer a word of reassurance, he was gone, disappearing into the hallway like a fleeting shadow.
Over the following months, he slowly began to emerge from his shell. At first, it was just plain nods of acknowledgement as you passed each other in the mansion. Then, a word here and there, clipped phrases of advice and caution during particularly dangerous missions. Gradually, his presence became more pronounced. Sometimes, after intense training sessions, he'd slip into the back of your classroom, intently listening to your lectures on concepts you presumed were entirely foreign to him.
Except they weren't. It was only later that you discovered his secret: the countless hours spent poring over textbooks he'd discreetly stolen from Charles' bookshelf. The realisation filled your heart with a warm sense of affection. His unspoken interest, the hidden depths, it was all so endearing. Thereafter, Logan consumed your thoughts. And it was during one of those sleepless nights that you found the courage to join him in the kitchen, wordlessly focusing on your own books at either end of the table. Since then, a shared understanding passed between you, a bond forged from mutual appreciation and a hint of something more.
The first time he cracked a smile left you breathless. Jean was furious at Scott, her anger clear as day as she stormed away. And Scott, ever so helpless, turned to anyone for guidance, retracing every misstep, every misplaced word. Logan, watching the scene unfold, sneered to himself, enjoying the man cluelessly suffering. You exchanged a knowing look, a silent agreement on the absurdity of the situation. As you excused yourself, a fit of giggles threatening to overtake you, Logan followed close behind, unable to suppress his own laughter.
From that moment on, things changed. You found yourselves seeking each other, conversations flowed effortlessly, at times even seasoned with playful banter. And as Logan became a steady figure in your life, a strange ache settled in your heart. You were falling for him. Yet, his emotions remained a mystery, a puzzle you were desperate to solve.
One year became another, and another and another. And as your feelings for him increased, hesitation crept in rather unwillingly. You pushed everything away, burying them six feet under, afraid of rejection or something worse. But Logan, with his uncanny perceptiveness, sensed the shift in your behaviour. And one day, in a moment of raw honesty, he confronted you. A heated argument ensued, emotions spilling over, words cutting deep. Then, just as suddenly, the tension dissipated. His lips were on yours, conveying every bit of the love he carried in ways words could never bring justice to.
That was a couple of months ago. Everything was perfect and you'd never felt more complete until you noticed the brief flashes of insecurity whenever he saw the mark on your wrist. You knew he didn't have one. In the beginning, it became a sensitive topic, you started wearing a watch or longer sleeves to stop reminding him. But eventually, his unease was too much to ignore.
And so, you bit the bullet.
The conversation was fraught with discomfort, but as you spoke, his expression softened, a slight weight lifting off his shoulders. He shamefully expressed his worries, the fear of not being enough - not being the one for you. It was a small step, but one that brought you closer than ever before.
Logan couldn't have been more grateful.
"Perhaps the two of you should, what do the kids call it, get a room?"
Charles' voice suddenly cuts across the silence. All eyes, including Logan's and yours, snap up from the blueprints scattered on the table. Scott blinks in confusion, meanwhile Jean, holding back a knowing smirk, can barely contain herself.
"I've had my fair share of lewd daydreams in my youth, but that was quite disturbing," he continues, tone laced with disapproval.
Colour drains from your face. Had your thoughts really been that obvious? Sure, you couldn't stop admiring how the tight leather suit molded to Logan's physique - incredibly distracting, to say the least. But you didn't realise you were projecting your attraction so loudly, especially in a room with two telepaths.
"Sorry, Professor." It seems useless to apologise at this point, but he responds with a curt nod directed at Logan. Turning your attention to the blueprints, you feel a familiar weight against your back. Logan, the sly bastard, leans over your shoulder with feigned nonchalance. And it takes every ounce of your willpower to focus on the serious discussion instead.
A recon mission.
Some old abandoned Hydra facility used for mutant experimentation in the 90s, the remnants of failed trials left to rot and forgotten. Charles had caught wind of it through Cerebro, suspecting that there may be valuable information hidden within its walls, secrets that should very well stay away from the wrong hands.
"What's in there?" Scott asks, tensing a little.
Charles pauses, a scowl twisting his expression, "That is a private matter."
"Private Matter," you mumble without thinking, instinctively reaching for a salute before Logan catches your wrist, halting the motion. He shoots a look, a silent reprimand that very clearly implies "Not now". Fortunately, no one else witnesses your mistimed quip, too engaged in drafting a safe plan for extraction.
The mission seems fairly straightforward, a simple infiltration like many you've done before. Nevertheless, Charles concludes with a stern warning to heed caution, "Now, good luck to all of you." As you filter out the room, he casts a pointed glare, "And Logan, please refrain from defiling my desk at any point in the future."
Shock etches across your face, mouth slightly agape. Once you're out of earshot, you shove Logan’s arm in embarrassment, "It wasn't me then." You breathe in relief only to be reminded of the thoughts he seemed to be entertaining earlier. What surprises you is the fact that you're more intrigued than deterred by the idea.
"My bad, sweetheart. Couldn't help myself," he laughs, dipping in close to whisper, "Suit's makin' it real hard to think straight." And with that, he's off, jogging ahead to Scott and Jean already waiting in the hangar.
Once you're airborne, the atmosphere shifts. Jean pilots the jet, her hands steady on the controls, eyes scanning the horizon. The Hydra facility looms in the distance, a dark and ominous presence in the middle of nowhere. As you approach your destination, a sense of apprehension lingers among the four of you. Scott recounts the plan, outlining the most efficient entry and exit points, his voice low and deliberate, "Logan and I will start from top-down and you two from the opposite."
As you leave the jet, a hand slips into your own, stilling you in place. Logan tugs you into his arms, there's a faint smile playing on his lips, his eyes, however, convey something along the lines of "Be careful, please". You squeeze his hand reassuringly, pressing a quick kiss before breaking away. With a reluctant sigh, he catches up with Scott, splitting off from you and Jean.
Inside, the air is thick with the scent of decay and neglect. Everything is left exactly as it was, except there are signs of a violent struggle - machines overturned, wires strewn across the floor, glass shards crunching under your boots. It's a scene of chaos and destruction. In the center lies an operating table, its restraints snapped in half, broken syringes and discarded medical equipment scattered around.
Electricity crackles beneath your fingertips. Though your powers aren't advanced, Charles has been a patient mentor, overseeing your progress since the day he found you. However, as you keep surveying the area, you notice an odd sensation, a subtle resistance to your abilities. A similar unease grips Jean too, her gaze meeting yours, a shared look of concern exchanged as you continue your search.
A distorted voice breaks through the comms, "Upper level's clear. No sign of anything." It's Scott, barely recognisable over the static.
"Copy. Still sweeping the lower level," you respond, but it's garbled by the interference.
"Stay on alert," Jean warns, straining her telekinetic energy against the strange force permeating the facility. "Defence systems could still be active."
You venture deeper into the hallway, greeted by an eerie silence broken only by the echo of your own footsteps. A series of cells line the corridor, thick metal barricades, scarred and rusted, stand as a testament to the suffering endured by those held captive years before. Peering through the tiny barred windows, you see sterile, empty rooms, not a single bed or mattress to be found - the cold, hard concrete floor offering no comfort.
"Fuckin' hell," you murmur, chills running down your spine. Jean hums quietly in agreement, looking around in horror. The electricity you can usually detect in the background dwindles to a weak buzz. You descend a narrow staircase, the air growing heavier by the second. At the end of the hallway is another metal hatch, this time with a faded Hydra symbol etched onto its surface. With a concentrated effort, Jean manipulates the lock, the door groaning open with a distinct beep.
It's beyond dimly lit - a dark, cavernous space. You focus your powers, fighting against the invisible pressure dampening your strength, current coursing through your veins. With a snap of your wrist, the room erupts in light, fluorescent bulbs flickering awake. A row of computers surrounded by a bundle of wires and archaic machinery stretch towards the ceiling.
"Must be the control room," Jean reaches out to flip a switch, but as her fingers brush the old metal, energy jolts through your body - a warning that something is amiss.
"No - wait!" you shout, but it's too late. The metal door slams shut with a deafening clang. An agonising vibration rattles through the room, a shockwave that reverberates through your body. The two of you sink to the floor, clutching your ears as a rush of debilitating pain burns every nerve ending in your body. And you're left paralysed for what feels like an eternity.
Logan clicks his tongue as static continues pouring through the comms, he catches the tail-end of your broken reply - something something lower level - a pit of dread forming in his stomach, "Place feels off."
"You're right, I can't get a read on anything," Scott mutters, the red hue of his glasses flashing in the darkness.
Logan's eyes dart around the space, landing on a series of grotesque instruments undoubtedly used for torture. A wave of nausea washes over him, flashbacks of his own past spring forward at the sight, reminders of the days when he too was a mere subject in someone else's twisted experiments. Suddenly, the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. An imperceptible vibration ripples beneath his feet, "The fuck was that?"
Scott immediately tries the comms again, "Jean? Wha - ", but it goes completely dead.
Logan's already barrelling through the corridors, his instincts taking over without a conscious thought. He calls for you again and again, reckless abandon fueling his every move. Screw the mission, all he wants is for you to be safe. His heart leaps into his throat as static hisses through the comms, Jean's voice muffled through the noise, "We've got... a major problem."
One second passes.
Two.
Three.
"C'mon, darlin'." The silence drags on, panic begins to seize his mind, sweat beading on his forehead. He needs to find you, now. The faint vibrations gradually become intense as he races down the staircase, "Major problem? C'mon, say your stupid joke, sweetheart. Please. Anything." His pleas, wracked with desperation, fall on deaf ears. Fear gnaws at him. He’s itching to hear your voice, even for that little running gag he doesn’t fully understand. Just any goddamn sign that you're still alive.
His senses direct him towards the metal hatch. Lunging forward, his fist connects with the barrier, claws extending at any attempt to tear through the door. Yet it holds firm, its surface barely dented or scratched by his force. Frantic, Logan rams his claws into the small security panel on the side, trying to short-circuit the lock. But the moment it's breached, a chain reaction is triggered, explosives hidden within the walls detonate with a tremendous roar. A torrent of debris and radiation thrusts him backwards, knocking him hard against the concrete.
The world around him seemingly implodes into a bedlam of sound and light, white flashes obscuring his vision. Pain, a searing, all-consuming pain diffuses through every inch of his body. His consciousness wanes, slipping away from his grasp. In the fading moments of awareness, he hears a distant crackle of electricity.
Then, nothing.
The memory of the chaos, the blinding light, the aftermath of the explosion, replay over and over. And then, there was Logan, his body limp and unresponsive, a sight that haunts your every waking moment. You remember the desperate scramble to escape the facility, the weight of his unconscious form in all your arms, the tense journey back to the mansion, Charles and Jean ushering you out of the med bay - their focus solely on stabilising him.
The night stretches on, a relentless march of time that seems to punctuate your helplessness as you pace back and forth. The lack of response from anyone doesn't quell the whirlwind of anxieties in the slightest. Every minute sound, every faint whisper, sends your heart racing. But when they finally emerge hours later, faces etched with exhaustion and relief, you can finally breathe.
For days, you sit by Logan's bedside, hands intertwined with his. The monotonous rhythm signalling his vitals is the only thing grounding you to reality. Though he remains unconscious, Jean had offered words of comfort, pointing to subtle improvements in his healing with her scans. Eventually, warmth returns to his body. His breathing, once laboured, is now full and steady. Leaning forward, you press a gentle kiss to his forehead and hope ignites within you again, just enough to draw a small, weary smile.
But then, you see it.
Glaring at you, painfully so, is a little mark on the back of his shoulder. Except, it isn't the same crescent moon that adorns your wrist. No.
Your heart sinks, breath catching in your throat, paralysis sets in once again. A single, shattering revelation echoes in your mind: Logan is not your soulmate.
He stirs awake, eyelids fluttering open. Everything slowly returns to his senses as the haze of confusion begins to clear. The first thing he notices is the familiar scent of you lingering on his skin, in the air, on the chair pulled by his side. As his vision unblurs, the blue walls of the med bay coming into view, a flood of concern smacks him in the face. Where are you? What happened? He tries to sit up, his body protesting with every movement.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you."
The mechanical hum of a wheelchair grows louder as it approaches. Charles, brimming with sympathy, rolls closer.
Logan groans, his muscles throbbing like never before, "What the hell happened? Is she - "
"She's alright, as are Scott and Jean," he interjects, though a shadow of pity clouds his expression. The unspoken weight behind his words triggers alarms in Logan's head, but before he can question him, a sharp burn shoots up his back. He winces, reaching for the source of the stinging. Beneath his fingertips, a strange, rough texture grates against his skin. He angles back to inspect it, blood running cold.
"It surfaced a week ago," Charles says grimly, "We suspect the radiation from the explosion temporarily impacted your healing, hence, the mark."
Logan can't think straight, a maelstrom of emotions engulfs every single fiber of his being - disbelief, agony and rage. How could this be real? He'd spent night after night, praying for some sort of sign, a reason for his existence. And when he found that in you, it felt like everything finally aligned. But now, destiny had struck him down with a ruthless blow, a cosmic twist of fate far worse than death.
Seven days.
That's how long it's been since you last saw him. The weight of the world bore down on you, every breath a struggle. Hours bled into one another as you stayed locked in your room, sobbing uncontrollably, your heart fracturing with each passing moment. Jean's persistent knocking eventually broke through your despair, her calm voice soothing your frayed mental state.
It took all of her gentle persuasion for you to finally eat something, to force you out of the anguish that consumed you. The news that Logan was awake and begging to see you almost crumbled the impenetrable walls you'd built up. But the thought of facing him, of confronting the fragile pieces of your harsh reality, filled you with dread.
And so, you avoided him. Retreating into yourself, a ghost of your own life, you clung to the illusion of distance. Maybe it'll somehow ease the pain, the heartbreak. You couldn't even bear to look at your own wrist, the mark - a cruel reminder of a love that was and a future that can never be. Every second of every day, mocking whispers floated around your mind, "You don't deserve him. You never did."
The moment Logan fully recovers, he immediately rushes through the mansion. Anticipation swells in his chest, there's nothing he wants more than your touch, your laughter - just you. He reaches your room, sensing the warmth from within. Hand hovering in the air, he takes a deep breath before knocking.
"Sweetheart?"
There's no response. He drops his head against the door, breathing ragged. Tears sting his eyes, threatening to spill over, the oxygen in his lungs thinning as he tries to speak, "Please. I know you're in there. Talk to me." The silence, the emptiness, it all becomes too much. He's losing you, and he can't do anything to stop it. "I know you're upset. But, please, just let me in."
Your voice comes muffled, charged with grief and sorrow, "That mark means there's someone out there for you - your real soulmate. Someone who isn't me." The words are piercing, he longs to pull you into his arms, to comfort you, to reassure you. "I am not meant for you, Logan," you choke out.
"Fuck that," he spits back. He can't accept this, that you're conceding to some inexplicable truth, "'M not givin' you up cause of some shit on my body. I choose you. And I will choose you. Every single time." It's all strangled, raw with emotion, cheeks stained with a wetness. He's wound up, a caged animal clawing at the bars. He'll fight for you, even if all the cards are against him, "Darlin', I don't care if there's someone else - they're not you. You're perfect to me. For me. The universe can go fuck itself cause I love you."
Logan goes still. He's never expressed that to you, not in this way, not with such soul-baring honesty. But, nothing has ever been more true, "I love you."
Heavy hangs the air. Then, a soft padding of footsteps, the door clicks open. Before he can react, your hands cup his face, drawing him down to your level, lips meeting in a passionate caress. Logan cradles the back of your head, deepening the kiss. The space between you, both physically and emotionally, fades away. This is all that matters, for now and forever.
His arms tighten as you pull back and tuck into the crook of his neck. The weight of your exhaustion is obvious with the shuddering sigh you let out, his heart aching for you. As you whisper apologies, he trails kisses down your face. "No, no, don't be sorry, darlin'," he says, all soft and gentle. Neither of you move, surrendering to each other, the moment suspended in time. Slowly, your trembling subsides and he smiles, the lines of misery now dimming. With delicate fingers, he brushes your tears away.
"I have a major headache," you murmur, eyes falling shut.
He huffs a laugh, saluting you with a playful grin, "Major Headache." The look of astonishment across your face brings him so much joy. "I asked Kitty, told me to watch the damn show." And Logan did watch the show - all for you - to understand the little references you kept making here and there.
"You know how to use the Internet?" you ask, incredulously.
"Don't push it, sweetheart." There's no malice behind his tone whatsoever. With a smirk, he leans forward, scooping you up in his arms and carries you to the bed. It's a familiar motion, a routine he's done hundreds of times before. But now, it's different, one that’s even more precious.
"Logan?"
"Hm?"
"I love you too."
He knows. He knows because it's written all over you. Every word, every breath, every touch - a testament to your love for him. A love so quiet and profound, a love that has weathered storms, a love that will last until the end of time. And he's eternally grateful for it. For you.
#logan howlett#deadpool and wolverine#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett angst#logan howlett fluff#logan x you#logan howlett imagine#wolverine x you#wolverine#logan howlett x you#wolverine x reader#wolverine imagine#wolverine fluff#wolverine angst#logan x reader#logan howlett xmen#logan howlett x fem!reader#logan x f!reader#logan x female reader#logan howlett x f!reader#wolverine x female reader#wolverine x f!reader#james logan howlett#logan howlett fanfiction
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geyser
series masterlist
pairing: luke castellan x daughter of poseidon!reader
summary: percy learns about the first girl luke castellan ever loved.
a/n: this is a lil sad. sorry about that. but i really like it and it came out of nowhere in like 2 days so i hope you enjoy despite the sadness. title from the mitski song
wc: 6.5k
warning(s): major character death; not shown but hangs over the whole fic. angst made angstier by fluffy flashbacks. mostly told through percy’s pov but includes luke, annabeth, and reader povs
also if you saw this before on another account DONT WORRY... that account was also me. im just doing some stuff behind the scenes right now as i figure stuff out lol i promise no plagiarism is going on
Percy thought that his head might explode.
He didn’t know how he was still walking, honestly. His mom died, he killed a— no, the— Minotaur, all the Greek myths were real and his dad was one of them, and now he had to deal with that freak accident with Clarisse and the toilets.
At least he would be ready next time she tried to beat him up. Percy had been the new kid enough to know there would be a next time.
All he could do was stare at the Minotaur horn in his hands, the only sign that what happened outside the border was real. The horn in his hands and the hole in his heart.
Percy swallowed the lump in his throat. He’d been thrown into the deep end, and the only thing on his mind was when he would start to drown.
“Hey.” Percy looked up to see the counselor he’d met earlier with Annabeth—Luke. He tossed a ziploc bag at him and he caught it, taking a moment to look at what was in it.
“I stole you some toiletries from the camp store,” he explained. “Thought it might make you feel more at home.”
“…Thanks.” He didn’t know if Luke was joking, but the damage had already been done. And it was the nicest thing someone had done for him so far. He set it down next to his Minotaur shoebox. “Is this the best that it gets?”
Luke’s lips quirked up in a slight smile. “For now. We’re a little crowded, if you couldn’t tell.”
“Just a little bit.” Percy stood up from his sleeping bag and worked out the knot in his shoulder. “Where’s your bed? Assuming you have one.”
“I couldn’t wrangle all these cats without some back support,” he said, and he pointed to a bed in the corner. It was the only one on its own without a bunk, and he had a fair amount of decorations. Counselor privileges, he figured. Percy walked over, Luke trailing behind him.
“Nice place,” he said. Percy picked up the Yankee’s cap on his bedside table and nodded as he looked back at him. “Nice taste.”
“It’s for Annabeth,” Luke said. “She wanted us to match.”
Percy nodded again in approval. “Good taste for both of you.”
Luke had various other things around — an alarm clock knocked over next to the baseball cap, a huskie sticker on the wall half-scraped off, a poster for an album he didn’t recognize.
But the thing that caught his eye was a polaroid hanging on the wall, surrounded by a smattering of others varying in size.
The first one had to be an old picture—Luke didn’t have his scar, and the biggest smile stretched across his face. He had a girl close with an arm slung around her waist, and she might’ve been smiling even more than Luke. A bright energy emanated around her, something that must have transferred through the picture, because Percy found himself feeling a little better just looking at her. He wondered if she was a camper.
His eyes flicked to the next picture, which was another one of Luke and that girl. They were both laughing as she tried to put a blue hat on Luke’s head, and he protested with a hand on her wrist. They were in the forefront of a baseball game, Percy noticed.
There were other pictures, too—Luke, a girl dressed all punk, and what looked like a young version of Annabeth, most notably—but a majority of them were either Luke and that girl, or the girl all on her own. In every single one, she beamed brighter than the sun.
Percy pointed at the picture of Luke and the girl at the baseball game, his curiosity getting the better of him. “Who’s that?”
That seemed to catch Luke off-guard, his lips parting for a moment as if he wanted to say something. It barely took him any time to get back on track, but Percy found himself frowning.
“That’s…” Luke cleared his throat, wet his lips, shook his head. “A friend. A very good friend.”
“Does she go here?” Percy asked.
“She did.”
He frowned. “Where is she, then?”
“Percy—” Luke’s voice was strained, but he didn’t really notice as he went on.
“I didn’t see her around,” he continued, “and you look pretty close.”
Luke blinked a couple times, and Percy swore he could see the telltale glimmer of tears starting in his eyes. A muscle worked in his jaw, and suddenly Percy was worried that he’d said something horribly wrong. He had a talent for that, it seemed.
Fortunately, he was saved by the bell—conch shell?—and something like relief flooded through Luke’s expression. Tension still coiled in his body.
“Come on,” he said, that camp counselor smile coming back as he put his hand on Percy’s shoulder and guided him away from the enclave. “That means dinner’s about to start.”
Percy’s frown deepened as curiosity won out again. “Was she your—”
“You don’t wanna be late,” Luke continued, ignoring his attempt. “I assume you’re pretty hungry after two days spent out?”
Well, that only made him want to push harder. But Percy figured he wouldn’t get anything out of him—especially not now.
“…Yeah,” Percy said. “Starving.”
An odd look flickered across his face, but again, it only lasted for a second before he was back to normal. He cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled, “Eleven! Fall in!”
Percy was at the back of the line by virtue of him being the new kid, and he found himself looking back at that picture of Luke and the girl. He didn’t know why, but something drew him to her. Before Percy could think about it more, the line was moving and his growling stomach drew his attention away.
He would have plenty of time to ask Luke about it later.
Or rather, ask him and piss off the only person who’d tried to be his friend so far.
…Gods.
Maybe he was going to drown sooner than he thought.
-
“Luke—”
“No!”
“Luke, please!”
“Annabeth will kill me if she knows—”
“She won’t know!”
“Alright, alright— stay still, you two!”
Your mother laughed from behind the camera as you and Luke fought with each other, you trying your damnedest to get your Red Sox cap on his head as he tried his damnedest to stop you. The frantic laughter on both sides made it a little difficult for either of you to succeed in your quest, but eventually, you got the rock up the hill and the hat on his head.
“Take the picture, Mom!” you exclaimed, pulling Luke even closer by his arms so he couldn’t get it off. “I need the proof!”
“I knew this was a bad idea,” Luke groaned, staring at the camera as you wrapped your arm around his side and leaned into him. He could already imagine your victorious smile, brighter than the sun beating down on them in the stadium, and just the thought of it made one of his own flit across his lips.
“Oh, shut up, Castellan,” you said. “You chose to come to this game. Everyone’s gonna know you’re a Red Sox fan now.”
“You said you wouldn’t tell her!” Luke defended, wrenching his arms free of your control to take the hat off his head. “I don’t even care about baseball!”
“You care so much about it,” you said cloyingly, “and you’re ride or die for the Boston Red Sox.”
“If you say a single word—”
“Okay, kids!” Your mother pointed at the seats next to her. “The game’s about to start—you can keep arguing, but only if you sit down so I can see.”
“Sorry, Mom.” You grinned at her as you pulled Luke over to your seats—they were a step up from nosebleeds, but they were the ones closest to the balcony so you could at least peer over the railing down to the diamond.
“It’s alright, sweetheart.” She glanced at Luke with a smile, and he could really see where you got it from. “We’ve gotta make him a fan somehow.”
“I guess I can live with the brand.” Luke set the cap back on your head once you were seated, purposefully pulling the brim a little over your eyes, and he smiled at you. “Even though it looks better on you, anyways.”
“You just don’t have what it takes to be a Red Sox fan in the heart of Yank territory,” you mused, pushing the hat back up so you could see. “It’s fine.”
Luke rolled his eyes, but he could hardly bite back his smile.
“I am glad you came, though,” you said, glancing back at him. “I’m glad you came with me in the first place. This is gonna be the best semester.”
“Thanks for having me,” Luke said. “It’s… it’s been a while since I’ve left camp.”
“Fingers crossed for no monster attacks, eh?” You held up your hand. “At least, not during the game. I could live with it happening any other time.”
“Don’t speak it into existence,” your mom said. “We’re going to have a monster-free school year.”
To humor her, you made a claw over your heart and pushed out. She hummed in satisfaction, and you looked over at Luke. “It’s gonna be fine.”
“Yeah,” he said. “Because two kids like us aren’t gonna draw any attention.”
“Oh, I know we will,” you said. “But I know it’ll be fine.”
Luke frowned. “How can you be so sure?”
You shrugged with a smile. “I’ve got you.”
And in that moment, he was thankful for the freakish heat that honestly made no sense in the spring—at least it covered up any sign of what your words did to him.
Luke thought you were joking when you asked him if he wanted to come back home with you for the school year. He didn’t know why you wanted to go back in the first place, being a Big Three kid that apparently had a death wish, but the thought of him leaving camp was almost inconceivable.
Even after you assured him you weren’t joking, he still wasn’t sure. He was on the run with you for three years, then…
Well, he couldn’t think about it for too long. But Luke had been on the outskirts of regular society for so long, doing nothing but fighting for his life, that he didn’t know if he could actually function at a normal school.
But it felt right for you two to get some normal time together after you were separated for so long. It took him a semester to decide, but one day during your usual Iris message conversations, he told you he’d love to spend the rest of the year in Boston with you. Luke still remembered the grin you wore, your disbelieving but victorious cheers, the apology you yelled back at your mother for your noise.
Luke watched you as you talked with your mom, discussing Boston’s chances and player statistics and baseball jargon he didn’t think he’d ever understand, and he knew he would sit through a thousand Red Sox games if it meant he would get to keep seeing your smile.
You must have felt his eyes on you, because you glanced over at him. “Are you okay?”
Luke smiled. Gods, he was so glad you were here.
“Never better.”
-
“That one nearly got me,” Luke said.
Percy huffed as he picked up his sword from the ground—he was pretty sure he would officially lose his mind if Luke disarmed him with that stupid move one more time. One benefit to the Hermes cabin being too scared to associate with him after getting claimed was that he wasn’t making a fool out of himself in front of other people.
“Maybe I can only beat you when I pour water on myself,” he said.
Luke chuckled as he took a bottle from the cooler on the side and held it up. “Wanna try?”
He shook his head. “I think my arms will fall off if I keep going with you.”
He tipped his shoulder. “Fair.”
Percy stared at the ground as Luke gathered himself, trying to put the free range thoughts roaming around his head in order. It didn’t help that he’d gained a million questions after Poseidon claimed him, and it didn’t help that there’s been a newest addition to his dream last night.
He still felt strange asking Luke about it, but he had to know more about her. Percy didn’t know why it felt like his mission to find out who this mysterious girl was, or why he felt that strange connection to her. Maybe it was the way Luke acted whenever he brought her up, maybe it was that she’d popped up in his dream next to him at the very end, maybe it was just plain old curiosity.
“I’m not supposed to be alive,” Percy said, breaking the silence. “I could die at any time in a bunch of different horrible ways. So will you tell me more about that girl on your wall?”
Again, Luke seemed to be caught off guard by it. Percy heard the crunch of plastic as his hand clenched ever so slightly around the bottle, and he tried to cover it up with an arched eyebrow. “Why do you want to know so badly?”
He shrugged. What was he supposed to say?
“I’m curious,” he decided.
Luke huffed a dry laugh before he took a sip of water, and he stared off into the distance for a while. He did a lot of staring whenever this girl was brought up. They looked like they were best friends in those pictures, but maybe whatever they had ended badly. And if she was a demigod too…
Well, it would make sense why he didn’t want to talk about her.
“You know that phrase about curiosity?” Luke asked.
“And how it killed the cat?”
He nodded, drinking some more. “It goes double for demigods.”
“Everything else wants to kill me,” Percy said. “So curiosity’s gonna have to get in line.”
Luke’s laugh was a little more genuine this time, and he shook his head. “I guess I can tell you a little about her. You actually probably have a right to know.”
“Is she a half-blood?” Percy asked immediately.
He nodded. “Yeah.”
“Who’s her parent?”
Luke capped his water bottle and looked at Percy for a good, long moment. His face glowed in the warm afternoon sun, his scar cast in a softer light than usual. The scar used to unnerve him, but he’d gotten used to it after weeks staring at it during sword fighting.
“She was a child of Poseidon, Percy,” he said. “Just like you.”
Percy felt short of breath, like Luke had just knocked his sword out of his hand and shoved him to the ground. But he stood on his own two legs that somehow still worked, and Luke hadn’t moved.
He had a sister?
“I have a sister?”
“…Had,” Luke corrected. “She… she died a few years back.”
A vice latched onto Percy’s heart. He was still having a hard time breathing. No wonder Luke always used past tense when he was talking about her.
He had a sister, he wasn’t alone, but he was because she was dead. And if Luke was one of her friends, that meant she died young.
Gods.
“What about their oath?” Percy asked, trying to ignore the aching in his chest. “I’m already on thin ice for my whole existing thing. How did Poseidon get away with two kids so close to each other?”
Luke shrugged. “I’ve never known why gods do things. Her mother was a great woman, though—I could see what drew Poseidon to her against the oath.”
One half of Percy wanted to ask every question that kept popping into his head. The other side of him wanted to break down and cry.
“How did you meet her?”
“We ran into each other when we were both young,” he said. “Both child runaways, both demigods, both New Englanders—we decided to rough it out on the road together. Couldn’t be any worse than doing it on our own.”
Percy tried to imagine it. A young Luke and a younger version of that girl—maybe Percy’s age—living together in the wilderness and fighting monsters. Surviving off of nothing but their wit and skill, facing death each day before they’d even reached middle school.
“It… it didn’t happen then, did it?” he asked hesitantly.
Luke shook his head. “Couple years later. All we did was watch each other’s backs out there.”
Percy couldn’t help himself. “What happened to her?”
“The same thing that happens to everyone,” Luke said flatly. “There’s a reason I’m the oldest one here.”
“That doesn’t make it better,” Percy insisted. “It— it makes it worse, Luke. You see that, right?”
Luke stared at his empty water bottle then tossed it back into the cooler. When his gaze met Percy’s, he was shocked by how… tired he looked. Beyond exhausted—bone-weary. Percy wanted to say more, but he didn’t get the chance.
“This isn’t good conversation,” Luke said, “and it’s getting late. You should hit the showers before dinner.”
The sun still beat down on them, bright and angry in the sky, but Percy provided no argument. He had a lot to think about.
Before they went their separate ways, Percy stopped and looked back at him. “I’m sorry she’s gone, Luke.”
Luke’s gaze went unfocused for a moment, his eyes growing glossy. “So am I.”
-
Percy sat on the floor of the Hermes cabin in the corner that used to be his, staring at his meager belongings. He had to decide what to take on his quest, which was made easier by the fact that he hardly had anything to his name. Things could always be worse, though. At least he would have a change of clothes.
He should’ve been doing this in his own cabin, but it felt too empty, too suffocating in its silence. Eleven was still more familiar. He heard the door open and saw Luke walk in, and his eyes lit up when he saw Percy.
“Hey,” he said. “I wanted to see you before you left. How’re you feeling pre-quest?”
“Like the world’s about to end,” he said.
Luke’s lips twitched into a smile as he sat on the bed across from Percy. “Understandable. It kinda is.”
“It’s just overwhelming.” Percy shoved the unfolded clothes into his backpack. “I have to clear mine and my dad’s names and get Zeus’s bolt back, or else war will start. No pressure at all.”
“You were chosen for a reason,” Luke said. “You may not see it, Percy, but you’ve improved a lot since you got here. If anyone can do this, I think it’s you.”
Percy looked up at him, and he was reminded of the way their last conversation went. He was asking before he could really stop himself.
“I could die on this quest and never see you again,” Percy said. “So could you tell me more about my sister before I go?”
Luke smiled wistfully and sighed. “You really won’t let this go, will you?”
“It’s not really something you just let go,” he said. “Besides, I… I saw her in my dream last night.”
Luke’s smile faded. “You did?”
Percy nodded. “For a split second, but I know it was her. I felt the same way I did whenever I looked at her pictures. And… it’s the second time she’s shown up.”
He let out a long sigh and shook his head, his gaze trailing off to the wall. He always looked so much older when he talked about this girl, like he was a war veteran reminiscing on his lost love. And from what he’d gathered, it might not have been too far off.
“I told you we ran together when we were young,” he said, and Percy nodded. “We were both nine, and it should’ve been terrible, but she had a way of making everything better. Always found the bright side of things, was always able to make me laugh.”
“She was from Massachusetts—right in the middle of Boston.” Luke chuckled as he looked at Percy. “Huge Red Sox fan.”
Percy grimaced. “We all make mistakes.”
Luke smiled, though it faded a bit. “We got separated for a while, but we found each other again when I got to camp. Things were more peaceful than they are now, so she’d been claimed at camp pretty quickly. I figure Poseidon wanted her to have the protection of him openly standing behind her after what happened.”
He frowned. “What do you mean, ‘what happened’?”
Luke shook his head. “That would be an awful story to send you off on.”
Percy wanted to protest, but he didn’t. Luke was probably right—Percy didn’t want to make him relive it and then have to go on a death quest right after.
“A happier part, then,” he suggested.
“She ran away from home as a kid to protect her mom, but now that she had an idea of what she was doing, she started going back to school. She invited me to stay with her during the school year one year, and I accepted. That—” Luke’s throat bobbed, and the other hand clenched into a fist— “that was when she died.”
In his stunned silence, Luke got up and went over to his alcove. He pulled the drawer open on his bedside table and pulled out a neatly folded piece of paper. It must’ve been folded and crumpled a million other times in messier ways by all the creases he could see, but when Luke opened it, he could see handwriting all over the front.
A letter.
“We Iris messaged each other constantly while she was at school,” he said, “and we wrote back and forth when we couldn’t. This was the last letter she sent me.”
Percy’s first instinct was to say he wouldn’t be able to read it, but he realized that he didn’t really care. These were words that his sister wrote—he would sit here the rest of the day forcing sentences to make sense if that was what it took.
So he took the letter when Luke offered it.
To the one and only Luke Castellan,
My mom said yes! After a very long interrogation (she now knows basically everything about you) and a million promises that you would be as careful as possible and that you were good enough at sword fighting to take down anything that could come after us, she said you can spend the year here. We spent a couple hours every day making my mom’s study into a guest room, so you have a place to stay.
I’m an idiot that didn’t bring enough drachmas so that’s why I have to send this letter—hopefully it gets to you soon enough, because we’re gonna come get you a week before my winter break is over. Mom is letting me drive down because she says I have to get my permit soon. It makes sense that my first big test is getting to you. If we don’t make it, it’s because we died in a fiery crash.
Just kidding. I’m a great driver. But tell me some of your favorite songs when you reply and I’ll burn a CD for the ride—I figured out how to use LimeWire. Oh, and throw in a couple drachmas with the envelope so I can Iris message you next time. I miss your face and your voice, and my hand is cramping up writing all of this.
But this is so exciting! I can’t wait to introduce you to all my friends at school, and show you my favorite places in the city, and make you into a Red Sox fan. And you can come to my soccer games— I’m the greatest forward there is.
Jokes aside, I’m going to make sure you have the best time. We’ll spend every second together, Luke. We’re gonna make up for the time we lost.
I can’t wait to see you again.
Your hurricane.
It took Percy a long time to get through it with the words swimming all over, and it didn’t help that his vision had grown blurry.
Tears, he realized as he blinked, and he did it again to make sure they wouldn’t fall. He couldn’t cry in front of Luke, not over a girl he didn’t even know—even if she was his sister. But maybe he was grieving that—the fact that he would never get to know her.
“God, man. I— I’m sorry.” Percy couldn’t think of anything else to say. “She sounds like she was great.”
Luke couldn’t even manage a smile this time as he stared at the wall. Percy was surprised he could even talk to him about it.
“She was,” he murmured. “You would’ve liked her. And gods,” this time, a bit of a smile broke through despite it all, “she would have loved a little brother.”
“I’m gonna make her proud on this quest,” Percy vowed. “I’m gonna clear our dad’s name for her.”
Something in Luke’s gaze had changed—sadness, almost regret. “You’re a good kid, Percy. I hope your quest doesn’t change that.”
I hope I come back alive, he wanted to say. But given the topic matter, he didn’t. Percy carefully folded the letter back up and handed it to Luke.
“Thank you for telling me about her, man,” Percy said. “I… I know it can’t be easy.”
Luke let out a shuddering breath as he stared at the closed letter—Percy wondered how many times he must have sat in this same position, reading her words. “No better way to honor her memory than helping her brother.” He glanced at Percy. “I see a lot of her in you.”
He’d been wondering if he had anything in common with her. Percy felt a sudden flare of anger shoot through him—it wasn’t fair that she was dead. Poseidon was a god, and she was a teenager. He should have saved her.
Percy’s mouth was drier than a desert. A part of him wanted to curl up in a ball and sob over the sister he never got the chance to know, but the other part of him knew—from what little Luke had told him about her—that she wouldn’t want him to.
“I should get going,” Percy said, standing up from the floor. “We have to leave for the quest soon, and Annabeth and Grover are probably wondering where I am, and…”
Percy trailed off, and Luke nodded in understanding. He turned around and took one of the photos off the wall—one of you alone in the middle of a park, wearing a bucket hat and absolutely beaming.
“You deserve to have a part of her with you,” he said. “For good luck.”
He felt himself choking up, and he pushed it down as he accepted the photo. “Thanks, man. It means a lot.”
“Good luck, Percy,” Luke said. “You’ve got a lot of people rooting for you.”
Percy found himself studying the picture of you once he made it outside, trying to memorize your face. With your wide, infectious smile that emanated pure sunlight, he could have mistaken you for an Apollo kid. But when he looked at you, he got that same warmth that he felt every time he imagined his father.
“I won’t let you down,” he murmured. “I promise.”
-
After sleeping in his train seat for half the day, Percy vowed to never complain about his bed in Cabin Three again. He was gonna be going down to the Underworld with permanent cricks in his neck.
Grover was still sound asleep—Percy envied him for how easily it came to him in the worst conditions—but thankfully, Annabeth wasn’t. Her gaze was focused on the view as their train chugged along.
Percy cleared his throat in a flawless attempt at getting her attention, and it worked.
“You’re awake,” she said.
“Unfortunately.” Percy sighed. “How much longer do you think it’ll be?”
“Another day, at least,” she said. “And we’ve got a layover in St. Louis.”
“St. Louis,” he hummed. “Nice.”
They sat in silence for a while—there wasn’t much to talk about when they were coming off of two— or was it three, now?—near-death experiences. But eventually, Annabeth cleared her throat, taking a page from his book, and it worked again.
“There— there’s probably something you should know,” Annabeth said, and that worked even better than clearing her throat. “You’re not the only Big Three kid to come through Camp Half-blood lately.”
“I know,” he said. “Grover and Luke explained it.”
Her eyes widened slightly and she leaned forward in her seat. “Luke did?”
“…Yeah. You all already told me about Thalia.” Percy glanced away, suddenly feeling a chill in the train car. “Luke told me about my sister.”
Annabeth went silent.
“It’s okay,” he said. “I kind of annoyed Luke until he told me. Doesn’t really seem like a subject people at camp like to talk about.”
“I’m just surprised he did,” she murmured. “They were… they were close, Percy. Her death destroyed him—Thalia and your sister. All of it’s complicated.”
“Yeah,” he sighed, “I got some of that.”
“I only knew her for a year at camp, but everyone loved her,” she said. “She was nice. Popular. Always helped when she could, always had the biggest, most infectious smile on her face.” Annabeth looked down at her hands. “She didn’t deserve the fate she got.”
Percy didn’t think he’d ever grieved so much for someone he never knew. “But her and Luke—were they…?”
“Yeah,” Annabeth said, “they were a thing, later on.”
That seemed to be all she wanted to say on the matter. Percy decided not to push.
“How did you meet her?” he asked.
Annabeth’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I met her on the day I thought I would die.”
-
For the first time in her life, Annabeth Chase couldn’t think.
It had all happened so fast. One second she was running with Luke and Thalia and Grover, praying to her mother and any other gods that would listen to make the horde of monsters let up even a centimeter.
The next, she’d collapsed on the ground, never so grateful to have grass and dirt and dust in her face. But she could hear Luke yelling, barely able to make it out in her delirious state—she didn’t know when she’d last had a sip of water, and they’d been running for at least three miles—but he sounded hysterical.
She remembered her last clear thought: they weren’t going to make it.
But they had. They had, so why was Luke losing his mind?
Annabeth pulled herself up from the ground—how long had she been bleeding out of those slashes on her arm?—and looked for the rest of her friends. Luke wasn’t yelling anymore, instead arguing with someone she didn’t recognize in a bright orange shirt. Grover’s furry legs trembled as he stared down the hill they’d just gotten up, completely silent, and Thalia—
Where was Thalia?
Annabeth tried to get up but her legs gave out almost immediately, and steady arms caught her before she could fall to the ground again. Kind eyes served to ease some of her panic—she was older than Annabeth, maybe around Luke or Thalia’s age.
Thalia—
“Hey, you’re okay,” the voice said, and Annabeth’s attention was drawn back to you. “I’ve got you.”
“Where’s Thalia?” she blurted out, because now she couldn’t think of anything else.
Your brows creased and you glanced back down the hill—Annabeth did too, and she saw Grover and Luke arguing with each other. Or rather, Luke was yelling at him as Grover anxiously hooked his hands through his hair.
“I don’t know,” you said, “but right now, I need to make sure you’re okay. Are you hurt?”
Annabeth absentmindedly held up her arm, but she was only focused on her friends. Why wasn’t Thalia with them? Why was Luke so upset?
You cursed under your breath in Ancient Greek as you cradled her arm, and you looked back down the hill. Annabeth could see at least half a dozen other kids.
“We’ve got two half-bloods and a satyr, one injured!” you yelled back. “Get Molly and Brayden!”
“Three,” Annabeth found herself saying. “There’s three half-bloods—”
“Annabeth!”
Her head shot up at the sound of Luke calling her name as he bounded over, and her eyes widened at the blood steadily spidering across the fabric of his shirt.
“Luke, you’re hurt—”
“I’m fine,” he insisted. “It’s fine.”
“We have Apollo kids coming,” you said, looking up at him, still cradling Annabeth’s arm. “We’ll get y—”
Your sentence stuck in your throat, and Annabeth could see tears welling in your eyes as your brows furrowed. She thought Luke’s eyes might burst out of his skull as he stared at you, his lips parted but nothing coming out. Neither of you were able to form words.
When he finally did get something out, it was a single name. One Annabeth knew by heart, one that he’d mourned for years.
“Luke?” you whispered.
Before he had the chance to do anything, two teenagers got over the hill and called out your name, the same one Luke used. He always said you were dead, but you clearly weren’t dead, because you were here and you had her arm in your grasp and while your hands were cold, they weren’t cold enough to be dead—
“Molly’s gonna take care of you,” you said, looking back at Annabeth and cutting off her inner dialogue. “She’ll get you to the infirmary and heal you up, okay?”
“My friends—”
“They’re gonna be okay too,” you said. “I promise.”
Annabeth looked up at Luke, and he nodded. “We’ll be with you soon, Annabeth. We— we have to talk about some things.”
So she went with Molly down the hill, and Annabeth put pressure on her bleeding wound when she told her to—it had started to sting like hell now that her adrenaline was fading.
She looked back just in time to see you and Luke share the tightest hug ever.
The hug of two people who realized they weren’t seeing ghosts, Annabeth thought.
-
You bolted up in bed, eyes wide and your chest heaving as you rapidly sucked in air. Your fingers found purchase in your bedsheets, desperate for something familiar—it took a second for you to recognize your surroundings, that you weren’t in an endless void, but your childhood bedroom offered little comfort.
You ran a hand over your forehead, damp with sweat, as you tried to calm down. Your breathing slowed, but you couldn’t shake that awful feeling that hung over you in your sleep.
Your nightmares were getting worse, you knew that much. That raspy, demented voice used to be a rarity, and now it appeared every night. You could usually deal with your nightmares, but the sense of absolute dread that voice and the pit fostered in you was too much. You hadn’t managed to sleep through the night once since you came home for the school year.
You could deal with the monsters—to you, this was the worst part of your godly blood.
A knock rattled on the door out of nowhere, and you nearly jumped out of your skin. The only thing that calmed you down was the thought that monsters didn’t knock.
“Come in,” you croaked, your throat drier than a desert.
Thankfully, a monster hadn’t come to make your night even more miserable. Luke stood in the doorway, his eyebrows creased in concern, messy curls hanging just above his eyes. He wore the Red Sox t-shirt you’d bought for him at the game you dragged him to, and in your addled state, you didn’t even think to tease him about it.
“Are you okay?” He should’ve been as disoriented as you, but his alerted eyes told a different story.
You could only think of one thing. “How did you know?”
Luke’s lips parted for a moment, as if he hadn’t even considered it. “I could just feel it.”
You managed a smile despite every atom in your body screaming at you. “I think that means you can come in.”
He closed the door behind him, and you shifted over in your bed to make room for him. There wasn’t much in a twin, but you made it work. Luke’s weight pressed into the mattress, making you adjust your position, and it was more comforting than any amount of blankets.
“You’re so cold,” he murmured, laying the back of his hand against your arm. “How do you live like that?”
“Blame my dad,” you said. “I’ve got water in my blood.”
“I think that’s probably a bad thing,” Luke said, and you knocked your shoulder into his with a huff.
“You know what I mean.”
Luke let his hand fall back in his lap, and as you brought your knees up to your chest, you pulled the covers with them.
“So,” Luke said, glancing at you, “what’s got you awake at the witching hour?”
“The usual,” you mumbled.
“Nightmares that might be prophetic?” he asked.
You made a lazy gesture with your hand. “Bingo.”
“The worst sense of dread imaginable?”
“Bullseye.”
“I’m sorry,” he said.
You shrugged. “It’s nothing I can’t deal with.”
“You don’t always have to put on a front, y’know,” Luke said. You felt his eyes on you. “You don’t always have to be strong.”
“I’m naturally strong,” you said with mock austerity. “Comes with the god for a dad.”
Luke chuckled and shook his head. “You know what I mean.”
“Yeah,” you murmured.
You leaned into his side, fitting your head into the crook of his neck. Luke wrapped his arm around you, pulling you closer, and you let out a contented sigh.
That voice in your nightmares seemed so small when you had Luke.
“Can you stay?” you asked softly.
He didn’t hesitate. “Of course.”
“Just like old times,” you whispered.
“Just like old times,” he agreed.
Luke ran hot, and you’d never been more thankful for it as you fully settled into his side. Icy blood ran through your veins, and you let out a shaky sigh. You could hear his steady breathing, feel his heartbeat through his chest, and the anxiety from earlier began to steadily fade. You never felt safer than when you were with Luke.
There was something between you—you weren’t that stupid—but you hadn’t talked about it. With you and Luke, it was just… you and Luke. You didn’t have to put a label to it.
How could you put a label to your relationship, when you’d spent your first few years together fighting for each day, and then the next few thinking the other was dead?
Maybe someday, you would talk about it. But for now, this was more than enough.
“Don’t worry,” Luke murmured in your ear as your eyes began to droop. “I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.”
And by the gods, you believed him.
#reader is the mara of she ra the mikey berzatto of the bear the nellie crain of hill house DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME#luke castellan x reader#luke castellan fic#luke castellan angst#percy jackson and the olympians x reader#pjo x reader#x reader#daughter of poseidon#child of poseidon#sadie writes
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i prefer it, actually
summary: after being called in the middle of the night, megumi comes over to take care of you while you're drunk
[ loner!megumi x popular!reader ]
cw: college au, f!reader, sorority!reader, pure fluff, intoxicated reader, party but mostly going on in the background, throwing up, aged up characters
word count: 2.2k
“Hello?” Megumi answered the phone in a confused haze, the blaring ringtone waking him up from his deep sleep.
“Megumi? I think you should come down here.” The voice that greeted him wasn’t one he recognised, and his confusion only strengthened when he checked the caller ID to see a picture of you.
“Who is this?” He asked, slowly rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he sat up in his bed.
In the background, he heard muffled music interrupted by a loud gag. “It’s Kasumi.”
Kasumi? There was something scarily familiar about that name, and after a few silent moments of thought he connected the dots, remembering she was a part of your sorority.
And as the pieces fell together, the concern started to fill his body, serving almost as an alarm clock as his sleepiness become nothing but a distant memory in a matter of seconds. “Is she okay?”
“Well…” Kasumi trailed off on the other end of the phone before another horrible gag interrupted the line. “She’s just really drunk.”
His shoulders dared relax just an tad. “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes,” he sighed before another sickening sound he only assumed was you hunched over a toilet bowl. Some of his worry had settled when he knew you weren’t in any immediate danger at least, but he also knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep again until he was certain you were safely in bed.
As he promised, fifteen minutes later he walked through the door of your sorority, the party still in full swing as he bullied himself through the thick crowd to get to the stairs.
God, he couldn’t stand this. Too many people shoved into a house where the mere concept of personal space was long abandoned. Obnoxious music that was so loud you were unable to hear your own thoughts — and not to mention how incredibly annoying people got when drinking.
Therefore he could not for the life of him fathom why you loved it so much. Only a handful of times had he accompanied you to parties like this, and you always managed to have a good time. That might be the only thing he has ever found himself liking with these things; seeing how much you enjoyed yourself.
So for the most part, he just decided to stay in when you wanted to go out so he wouldn’t ruin your evening by moping around, constantly checking the time to see when it was acceptable for him to go to bed. He didn’t want to be that boyfriend who stopped you from doing the things you liked just because he didn’t want to.
When he reached your room, his head cleared up as the people and music from downstairs was shut out, transforming into muffled background noise through the floor. He placed three knocks on your bathroom door before it creaked open, spotting the blue haired girl he assumed had to be Kasumi. “Hey,” he whispered, leaning against the doorframe as she opened the door further.
“Thank god you’re here. She’s been begging for you for like two hours,” she groaned, not hesitating to walk out of the bathroom so she could return to the festivities. "I think she's pretty much finished in there, just tired now."
He cleared his throat. “Thanks for taking care of her,” he said awkwardly as she was about to exit your room.
“Of course,” she smiled sweetly. “She would have done the same for me,” and she was gone.
He turned back around, pushing the door fully open to reveal you just in the position he had excepted. Your hair was tied back in a ponytail, makeup slightly smudged from throwing up for who knew how long, a constant little shiver running through your body.
“How you hanging in there?” He asked, a small amused smirk creeping up on his face.
Lifting your head from where it was resting on your arm, you turned to look at him, face lighting up the second your eyes landed on him. “Megumi, you’re here!” You nearly cheered, both hands immediately extending towards him, needy for him to come join you on the floor.
He does as you wished, his hands instinctively stroking away the stray hairs that hung in front of your face, behind your ears. “Feeling okay?”
“Better now that you’re here!” You slurred, flashing your teeth at him in a huge grin. The annoyance and frustration caused by the party below was quickly forgotten at the sight of you beaming at him. Even though you looked tired, appearance tainted by the evening, it did nothing to smother beauty. “I didn’t think I’d see you tonight.” You were clearly still intoxicated, eyelids droopy as you mumbled sentences he could barely make out.
“A little blue birdie told me you needed me, so,” he shrugged, as if it was nothing to think about.
“Awe, baby,” you squealed as you fell forward, head landing on his chest. “You’re too good for me,” you sighed, melting into his body, the heat radiating off of him soothing the shiver present in your own body.
A gentle hand finds your upper arm to give it a light squeeze. “Do you think you can get up?” He felt the movement of your head agree to his request. He stands up first, grabbing ahold of your clammy hands and pulling you to your feet, instantly lacing his arm around your waist when you nearly fell over the second you were stood up. “Easy there,” he chuckled quietly.
“I’m fine!” You rushed in a high pitched tone, grabbing onto him for support, feeling the room spin a lot more now than when you were leaned over the toilet. When you weren’t nuzzled up against his warm chest anymore, the tremble quickly found its way back to your muscles. “‘m cold.”
“You’re cold?” He asked for confirmation. You only nodded, bottom lip sticking out in a dramatic pout. “Okay,” he whispered to himself before letting go of you by the sink before walking into your room to get you something.
“No, not that one!” You whined when he came back with one of your hoodies in his hands, earning you a confused frown from your boyfriend. “Want yours.”
He just rolled his eyes, acting as if he genuinely thought you were being a nuisance — but in reality, his heart did a little skip at the fact that you so persistently wanted to wear something of his instead.
At the foot of your bed he spotted a familiar hoodie, where you’d thrown it after waking up. Whenever the two of you didn’t spend the night together, you made sure to have a piece of his clothing nearby so he didn’t feel so terribly far away.
Could you be considered a clingy girlfriend? Probably — but you preferred the term devoted.
“Thank youuuuu,” you cooed as he simply tilted his head to signal for you to raise your arms. You happily obliged and he pulled it over your head, a satisfied hum slipping out as you hugged your arms around yourself to take in the familiar scent of your boyfriend.
Without saying anything, he grabbed your toothbrush with one hand, and your face with the other to hold it still, fingers softly digging into your plush cheeks. He finds it surprisingly unproblematic to help you brush your teeth, suspecting your drunken state might actually have served as help, paralysing your usual restlessness.
He gently grabbed your hand and guided you back to your room again, but was abruptly halted when you decided to stop dead in your tracks. With pinched eyebrows, he turned to you.
“Babe, I can’t go to bed with my makeup on.” You let go of his hand to retreat them into the sleeves of the sweater, hoping the warmth it usually provided would find you soon.
“Okay?” He asked, nervously moving his hand to his neck, rubbing it slightly as he waited for you to give him the right instructions.
“There’s makeup wipes under the sink,” you said matter-of-factly.
“Yes, ma’am,” he answered under his breath and went to get the wipes. When he returned, he nearly stumbled over your limp body. During his short trip to the bathroom, you had suddenly decided to just lay down on your back in the middle of the floor. With another sigh, he positioned himself on his knees by your head before carefully lifting it into his lap.
He started with your eyes, lightly rubbing the wet wipe across your eyelids. It didn’t take long before he managed to draw a drunken giggle from your lips. “What?”
“You’re so gentle,” you opened your eyes to stare up at him, thinking he was upside down but you couldn’t be too sure as the room was still spinning. The frown — you once had thought was a chronic condition — was very much present.
“I don’t wanna pop your eyes out.”
You only laughed. “You’re not gonna pop my eyes out. C’mon, you can put a little more pressure.” He let out a long and stressed exhale before going back to work, grimacing in fear as he did as you’d told him.
Eventually, the makeup came off, but you continued to lay completely still. You kept your head in his lap, eyes closed and a small smile ever present on your face.
“Did you have fun tonight?” His voice was soft, barely audible — especially with the banging from the bass downstairs seeping through the floor.
“Meh,” you said simply as you shrugged.
“Oh?”
“Yeah,” you breathed as you open your eyes to meet his gaze again. “You weren’t there.” He snorted, slightly rolling his eyes at your statement, believing you were only lying to make him feel better about coming all the way down to your sorority in the middle of the night.
“Yeah, right. How much did you have to drink?”
“No, Megs, I’m serious,” you giggled as your hands acted on their own, raising to cup his cheeks. “There’s only so much fun I can have when you’re not here.”
He felt his cheeks heat against your hands — you didn’t seem to notice however. He always thought it strange, that even after the two of you became official, it didn’t take a lot of effort from you to bring that redness to his face, a colour that had only grown familiar to his features after getting to know you.
“Sure, so fun having me sulk at your heels all evening.” There’s nothing but sarcasm in his tone as he continued to try and hide his flushed cheeks.
“I don’t mind,” you said softly as you gaze directly into his eyes, his blush only amplifying. “I prefer it, actually.”
His soft eyes roamed your face, lips slightly parted in awe. He still didn’t understand how you, who was so sociable, always the life of the party, beyond stunning, had decided he was the one you wanted to be with. And time and time again you confirmed it to him that it was for real.
Without much more thought, he simply leaned forward to press a tender kiss on your lips, your lips curling up in a giddy smirk. You were unable to contain yourself, breaking the kiss by hiding your face behind your hands, strangling the sweet giggles spilling out of you.
“You still make me nervous,” you said in between the cute sounds that was like music to his ears.
“I make you nervous?” He scoffed. “Alright, you’re clearly still drunk. Time for bed.” He gently tapped your shoulder, trying to get you to lift from his lap.
“You can never take a compliment,” you grumbled, wearing the frown that was more often seen painted on his eyebrows. He didn’t entertain your complaints, merely helping you up before leading you to your bed.
When he was about to turn around, your hand grabbed a hold of his wrist, surprised by the strength in your clutch. “No, you gotta stay here tonight!”
“I’m not leaving,” he laughed. “I’m just going to get you some water,” he said as he grabbed your hand to force you to let go.
“Oh.”
He can’t help but shake his head a little. You were probably the only drunk person he liked — of course, he was biased. During the parties, you were so outgoing, in a way he always admired. And then, when it was time to turn in for the night, you became so incredibly cute.
After having fetched the glass, he returned to see you wrapped up in the covers, having pulled the hood over your head and nuzzled further into the clothing.
A content huff left his nose as he put the glass down on your nightstand before stripping down to his t-shirt and boxers, then he carefully climbed over you. He knew he’d only receive grumpy grunts of annoyance if he tried to shove you to sleep closest to the wall.
The second he closed his eyes, he felt you snake your arm tightly around his torso and burying your face against his back, wanting to consume as much of his body heat as possible. Two light taps on your hand caused you to loosen your grip before he wiggled to turn around so you were now burying your head in his chest instead.
A deep, much needed, breath filled your lungs before you simply melted into him as his arms wrapped around you, humming in satisfaction as his hands slowly began to rub your scalp.
tags (taglist is open) @sad-darksoul, @nyahctrl, @ssetsuka
a/n the layout for these drabbles and short entries will be a little different, but yeah hope you like it. oh, and if you wanna be in the taglist, just lemme know <3 - btw, all warnings will be in the masterpost at all times
reblogs, likes and comments are appreciated plagiarism not authorized
#— ଓ my creative corner#loner megumi x popular reader#dividers by cafekitsune#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk imagine#jjk imagines#jjk oneshot#jujutsu kaisen oneshot#megumi fushiguro#megumi#fushiguro#megumi fushiguro x reader#megumi x reader#megumi x you#jjk megumi#jjk megumi fushiguro#jjk fushiguro#jujutsu kaisen megumi#jujutsu kaisen fushiguro#megumi fushiguro imagine#megumi fushiguro oneshot#megumi imagine#megumi oneshot#fushiguro megumi#fushiguro imagine
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(BLLK) this life, this one
𝜗𝜚 ITOSHI RIN: CHAENOMELES.
a/n: [fem!reader] me when dad rin dad rin i. i am so weak for him this will not be the last of it. YOU WILL BE FED RIN KISSERS
the alarm clock that sat on your bedside table blinked 2:13 a.m. as you stirred from an uneasy sleep. you roll toward the empty space beside you for rin's familiar comforting weight to fall protectively across your arms, but the space was cold.
you frown, sit up and carefully listen. then you hear something. downstairs, someone giggling.
you slipped out of bed carefully and padded down the hall toward the soft glow emanating from the kitchen. with every step, the sounds grew clearer: your baby's bubbly laughter and rin's unmistakable soft chuckle.
curious, you peeked into the kitchen and the image that graced your eyes almost burst your heart.
rin was sitting cross-legged on the tiled floor, his hair adorably messy from sleep and his hoodie slightly askew. in front of him was a tub of neopolitan ice cream, flavours all mixed up. sitting in his lap was your baby fuyumi clutching a tiny spoon, babbling excitedly between bites.
"itoshi rin. itoshi fuyumi." you sternly whispered, leaning against the doorway, your arms crossed but a fond smile tugging at your lips. "care to explain what's going on here?"
rin looked up, evidently startled for a moment, lips agape, before offering a rare grin. "'yumi woke up." he said simply, nodding toward the tiny human in his lap. "and she was hungry."
"so naturally, you thought ice cream at two in the morning was the solution?" you teased, raising an eyebrow as you stepped closer.
"of course," he deadpanned, gently wiping a smudge of chocolate off your baby's cheek with the pad of his thumb. "but... look at her. worth it." he says the latter part under his breath.
your baby let out a squeal of delight, waving her spoon triumphantly in the air as if in agreement.
you shook your head, unable to hold back a laugh. "unbelievable."
rin smirked, and held out the tub of ice cream, "want some?"
regardless of how much you scold them for it, you're also not able to resist it. with a drawn-out sigh, you took a spoon out from the drawer, plumping yourself down beside them onto the floor. "only because."
the three of you sat there, sharing ice cream and stealing quiet moments of joy in the stillness of the night. your daughter fuyumi, thoroughly energized-by-the-sugar-rush decided that her small pink plastic spoon made an excellent drumstick, causing her to start tapping it against rin's knee and giggling uncontrollably at the sound.
rin played along, tapping his own spoon in rhythm. "we have a small musician..." he said, his eyes soft as they met yours.
"or a troublemaker,"
"takes after their mom."
you gasped in mock offense, and rin laughed a rare, unguarded sound that made your heart skip a beat.
as the minutes ticked by, the ice cream tub slowly emptied, and your daughter began to yawn, their tiny fists rubbing at their sleepy eyes. rin scooped them up effortlessly, cradling them against his chest as he stood.
“i’ll put 'yumi back to bed,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.
you followed him upstairs, watching as he carefully tucked your daughter into her crib. his movements so gentle, like he was handling the most precious pearl in the world.
he walks out with a faint smile. the smile you fell for when you were 16. "thanks for not killing me over the ice cream," he whispered.
you smiled, leaning up to kiss him softly. "you're just lucky you guys are cute."
he wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you close. resting your head against his shoulder as you both stood there, watching your baby rest.
and in that quiet moment, with the warmth of rin's arms around you and the peaceful rise and fall of your baby's breaths, you knew there was nowhere else you'd rather be.
it has to be this life.
with this one.
#rin x reader#itoshi rin x reader#rin itoshi x reader#rin x you#itoshi rin x you#rin itoshi x you#rin fluff#itoshi rin fluff#rin itoshi fluff#rin fanfiction#itoshi rin fanfiction#rin itoshi fanfiction#itoshi rin fanfic#rin itoshi fanfic#rin fanfic#itoshi rin ff#rin itoshi ff#rin ff#bllk x you#bllk x reader#blue lock x you#blue lock x reader#blue lock ff
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Sore & Horny
Pairing: f!reader x Mingi
Genre: smut 18+
Summary: you’re ovulating and can’t sleep because of your aching tits.. unfortunately your boyfriend has a strong reaction to your pain.
Notes: reader is ovulating, Mingi is really horny, somnophilia, dry humping, nipple play, sleep humping, reader is a tease in her sleep, Mingi cums in his pants, hint of dirty talk.
Words: 570
You’re trying to sleep but you can’t. You toss and turn but something’s bothering you. It’s your damn breasts…
You’re ovulating and your breasts has just begun to hurt like hell, it hurts in every sleeping position you’re trying. It’s dark in your bedroom, the only light comes from the alarm clock which’s currently 2am.
But you’re so sleepy even your eyelids are closing by themselves. You slowly roll around and place yourself on your side, you place a pillow under your right boob and it feels better for a moment.
For some weird reason your body feels how much it hurts while you’re asleep, you whine and moan constantly which wakes up your sleeping boyfriend. Mingi sighs to himself, it’s the third night in a row he’s been waking up because of your needy whines and it drives him crazy.
It doesn’t really help either that your ass is pressed against his crotch, it just makes it harder for him. Mingi don’t wanna wake you up just so you could help him with his boner, that would be selfish of him. He needs to take care of the matter himself. Sliding away slowly from you to go to the bathroom doesn’t go as planned. You feel the lack of friction and let out a needy high moan. Mingi freezes and swallows hard, this is killing him.
You roll over onto your back and begin to touch your breasts, still asleep. Mingi makes another try to get out of bed and also turns on the nightstand lamp, now he can see you better. Your top was all the way up to your neck meaning your boobs were on display for him. He looks down and notices a stain on his pyjamas pants, he can’t take it anymore. The thought of you having sore tits, being needy, being deliciously fuckable..it really spun his head around.
“Mingi-hmmm”
“Fuck..”
He slowly approach the bed back again and snuggle up beside you, he rolls you over to your side and place his hard cock against your ass. He gropes one of your tits which drags out more moans from you. His hips starts to slowly rock back and forth, his finger plays with your nipple.
He really wants to wake you up so he can fuck you but at the same time he don’t wanna disturb your sleep. Mingi places small kisses on your shoulder and neck. The bed creaks a little as he humps your ass, he has to bite down on his bottom lip to keep himself sane.
“Mmh, Mingi it feels so good”
He squeezes your breast and halts his movements, he also lets out a low “fuck” which wakes you up.
You look up and back at your boyfriend, whose face is red and his breath is heavy.
“Why is the light on? What’s going on?”
You look at him with furrowed eyebrows, still a bit confused. Mingi just looks at you and pulls his hand away from your boob.
“I-I just wanted to help you with your pain..”
You tho..actually know your boyfriend at this point, you lift the covers and see how the back of your sleeping shorts and his crotch on his pyjamas pants are stained with cum. You look at him and lean in for a kiss.
“Horny freak, why didn’t you wake me up so you could fuck me instead?”
He just groans.
#ateez#ateez imagines#ateez fanfic#ateez scenarios#ateez smut#kpop smut#mingi#mingi x reader#mingi smut#song mingi#mingi imagines#mingi hard hours
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Aaron struggling to get out the door in the morning because first it was reader clinging onto him in bed
Then it was Ellie (age 2 or 3?) holding onto his pantleg for dear life as they’re all standing in the doorway, trying to kiss Aaron goodbye for work.
aww yes!! 🥹 fem!reader (i also have a very similar fic about this in the works, so stay tuned!!!! reader, not ellie <3)
your internal alarm clock wakes you a little bit before aaron's actual alarm goes off, so that gives you the opportunity to securely cling onto him 😭 your arms are wrapped around his middle, so he's met with your tight embrace as he wakes up <33 aaron sleepily mumbles a good morning to you, allows himself a few minutes to enjoy the warmth of your body besides his, savoring your presence before a long work day. especially since there is the chance he won't be home tonight if a case takes him away 🥺
finally he has to pry himself out of bed, so he tries to lift his body, but stays put as your grip is not lessening on him at all. hehe he laughs softly and says, "sweetheart, i have to get up." and gives you a few kisses in persuasion. you whine gently in protest, and attempt to talk him into staying in bed for just a moment longer (although your definition of 'a moment longer' is quite different from his 🥰) but eventually you let him go :(((( because you know he doesn't want to be late, nor do you want to be the reason he's running behind.
and ellie 🥺 she's in your bed far too early, and stays there as you and aaron get up and get ready for the day, watching a cartoon all bundled up in your comforter 🥰💕 sometimes she'll even trail into the bathroom as aaron's brushing his teeth, chattering away and simply just talking his ear off. his answers are inevitably all muffled as his toothbrush is in his mouth 😭 or she'll follow you into the closet, and help you pick out your outfit for the day 🥹🥹🥹🥹
so when the two of you move out of your room - to get breakfast started, to get jack up, etc - ellie's literally your shadow (mainly aaron's 🥹). she's following him around, insists on sitting on his lap during breakfast, asks him to play dollhouse, is insistent he gets her ready, anything to delay him (like mother, like daughter 🤭). and when it's time for aaron to leave, she won't let go of his leg 😭 she's telling him not to go, omg she even says "don't you love me anymore🥺" which BREAKS. HIS. HEART and aaron kneels down to her level all, "of course i do, i just have to go to work. but you'll have a super fun day with mom and i can't wait to hear all about it when i get home." 😭😭😭😭 you're the one who eventually pries her off aaron, hoisting her on your side and the two of you travel over to the window, to wave goodbye as he drives away 🥹💕
and in result, because of her comment, aaron calls you multiple times that day to check in and talk to ellie 😭 for example, he phones during lunch and ellie gives him a very thorough analysis of what she's eating LOL 😭 she just wants to talk to him 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻💕
but as she gets older and learns that there's a chance he won't be home that night - the clinginess in the morning worsens 🥺 she's a daddy's girl through and through <3
#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner#criminal minds#criminal minds imagine#aaron hotchner x you#criminal minds x you#criminal minds x reader#aaron hotchner imagine#ellie hotchner <3
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