#ik he becomes god or something

[chai-en-kaadhale]

wow orv was so long *proceeds to start lotm*

[miniagula]

they make me ILL and SICK IN THE HEAD

[amazingspider-z]

Smashing two separate aus together to reach terminal velocity for fun and profit on accounts that

1) Gigai should lean into the being fake bodies bit, I think. Have people with spiritual pressure Notice that shinigami are Not Human actually bc something about them is. Off. They don't blink. They don't breathe. etcetc

Or. They should have leaned into the half-human angle for the Kurosaki kids more. Ichigo was already bullied for being a redhead just. Add a little spice and have them set off some kinds of alarm in the back of most people's heads. Let them be half actually physical and half made up spirit particles only you know, nobody told them ever. (And yes ik it is A Major Plot Point that Ichigo was alive and even got his whole soul chain cut but! I posit mind over matter. Nobody told his ass he could Danny Phantom it up (well. nobody actually knew they could do that tbf but also nobody ever hit him with the oh yeah your dad was never alive in the first place) and so well. Good luck with the Shattered Shaft I'm-definitely-not-hollowfying-you-on-purpose Ichigo! He figures it out. At some point. Eventually)

and

2) I do Not claim the aftermath of the Winter War/timeskip/Lost Agent Arc okay. Power loss arcs/storylines squick me out, okay! They're just. Sad. And I hate 'em. So a 'fix-it', the basis being that even if the Old Man and White Zangetsu were fused, it was the Old Man acting as 'Zangetsu' when Ichigo used the Final Getsuga Tensho, so the backlash went a little. Funky. (Bc yes i go with the theory that the Final Getsuga is a shinigami/Shiba thing not a bastardized Vollstandig and that mattered) so instead of losing his powers, Ichigo's soul started to destabilize (which yeah, did affect his power levels, but more on the his reiatsu is back to where it was before the Dangai instead of. Well. Everything) which to be fair was Very Bad and potentially fatal in the moment, so he had to be placed back in his body and was medically forbidden to leave it until his soul healed (which. for the purpose of the fused au is also how Ichigo figured out about the able to turn into a ghost on command thing-the combination of being forced to transmit spiritual energy through his physical body while he was healing+learning that his goddamn old man was. a shinigami actually shifted his worldview enough that when he was okayed to leave his body he just. Transformed instead). Alas, on account of his soul barely holding together with spit and determination and the teensy little detail of him being part-Hollow (and actual-Zangetsu being the only one awake to frantically try damage control) meant that some wires got crossed as his soul was healing itself, and well, instead of re-solidifying in it's previous state some elements from (both of) his Hollow form(s) filtered in accidentally to his new base state. Which. Yk. Is a super fun thing to find out and absolutely not at all horrifying to learn to live with.

[birdmenanime]

man I miss birdmen so much. I’ve been so DnD brained but I literally have it down so when I DM my first campaign in a couple of years (a sequel to my current campaign) I’m gonna reread birdmen to get a better understanding of the evolutionarily “magic” system and how it evolved alongside capitalism and restrictive government vs communism and anarchy.

[bangcakes]

.

[kalashtars]

venting in the tags yippeee

[yawn-emoji]

[star-sim]

"nooo! she's taken!" ☆ enha maknaes

☆ non-idol! bf! enhypen maknaes x celebrity! fem! reader ☆ summary: you are a very well-loved celebrity, and your relationship is finally revealed to the public. ☆ genre: fluff, another poor attempt at humor, it's very silly ☆ warning(s)? none! lmk if you'd like to see this w the hyungs! hyung ver.

sunoo ☆

so youre a famous actress

you have your official instagram account

and then your personal one, that you only allow family and personal friends to follow

sunoo, your bf, also has an account on instagram

since most of you friends and family know him, it's not uncommon for him to take your phone and post on your personal account

one of those "hai guys i stole her phone 🤭"

all in good fun

so one night, you and sunoo and cuddling

it was one of those vibey nights

the lights were dim, candles lighting up the room with their orangey hue, light music playing in the background

laying on you and sunoo's shared bed, his face buried into the crook of his neck while you run your fingers through his hair

its honestly so soft and warm and comfy :]

the two of you aren't really talking to each other, just basking in each other's presence

and eventually you begin to doze off

at first sunoo was like "baaaaabee!! why did you stop touching my hair"

but then he realized you were asleep

so after givng your cheek a soft peck, and tucking you into the soft blankets

sunoo physically goes >:]

he takes your phone and decides that he's going to spam your personal account

because tbh he does this a lot and it's funny for everyone involved

sunoo takes very silly pictures of you and him

pictures of you sleeping, ones at very silly angles (ik he takes the most FOUL 0.5s)

on your story he posts them with also very ridiculous captions

theres one of you sleeping with the caption "mimimumuimuiu"

another fisheye lens one of sunoo with the caption "hai i stole [name]'s phone 😈"

but he also posts some sweet ones

like one where you're dozing off in his arms w the caption "she's so cute"

sunoo gets mushy at some point

like his captions go from funny to "im so happy that i get to call myself [name]'s boyfriend, i feel so lucky to be with such a beautiful and talented woman"

that's great!

really!

that's wonderful!

but.

there's just one problem

one

teeeeeeensy

weeeeeeeeeensy

problem

he was using the wrong account.

he was posting all this on your official, business, 7.8 million follower, instagram account.

and not your personal account.

!!!!!

😱😱😱

he doesn't notice until 20 minutes later his phone blows up with articles and text messages

and when he notices

sunoos like OH SHIT

he shakes you awake

and poor boy is so apologetic :(

"baby i'm so sorry i didn't mean to out our relationship like that i should have been more careful-"

but when he explains it to you

you kinda just laugh

and go back to sleep

HELP

sunoo deletes the stories but people already screenshotted them

yeah... so this blows up

i feel like they would become memes

like the ones of you sleeping become reaction memes or even worse part of those tiktok meme slides LMAOAOAO

a lot of people think it's adorable

and you do too

but sunoo is so embarrassed

poor boy

he was writing out entire think pieces on your instagram story oml

OH MY GOD I JUST THOUGHT OF SOMETHING TERRIBLE

there's definitely articles that come out about this

and yk how on articles theres a title page with images

one of the images is of you ofc

all these news outlets use your super professional HD MODEL pictures of you

like ones where youre a goddamn SMOKE SHOW, the "who is she?" ones, the ZOOWEE MAMA ones...

and then they use one of the foul images that sunoo takes of himself that are like 3 pixels

like the 0.5 lens ones 😭

nevertheless, there is a happy ending

everyone thinks its so sweet

including you

and when people bring it up on interviews you're able to just laugh about it

<3

jungwon ☆

we joke abt jay and sunghoon and sunoo having mad side eyes

but i think we forget the FATHER of INSANE SIDE EYES

YANG JUNGWON HIMSELF

you're a singer/artist

and you just released a new EP!

on tiktok, you're making promotional videos to promote your new songs

looking like a cutie, popping off, as you always do!

anyways in many of them

you're in front of a glass door

or a mirror

so as youre being an absolute cutie promoting your song, in the background in the reflection you can see jungwon making faces

NOT BECAUSE HE'S MAKING FACES AT YOU

but bc sometimes there's ppl walking by and being judgy

jungwon is giving them mad stink eyes and it's caught in the reflection of your videos

i don't think a lot of ppl notice it until someone points it out

and when they do

theyre like

WHO TF IS THAT 😭

ppl are making tiktoks simply zooming into his face LMAOAOAO

and then a few days later

the paparazzi released pictures of you walking with jungwon, holding hands and on a date

and when ppl see it

theyre like

hmm...

that guy looks a lot like the guy in the reflection...

and then the dots connect

like sunoo, i think jungwon is embarrassed

everytime someone brings it up jungwon hides his face in your neck

and he wears that cute little bashful grin

but honestly it's cute

so just hug him and kiss his lil cheeks and he'll be okay

it kinda becomes viral on tiktok

so you make a few video stitches about it

you stitched the og video that pointed out jungwon's face in the background

your stitch was just a video of jungwon being embarrassed and freaking out

like bro was on the floor, hands in his hair

jungwon was in the trenches sorry 😭

there's another stitch where jungwon explains himself

he's dressed in a suit and tie and speaking so formally like he was making an apology video or something

"i would like to address a recent clip of me making inappropriate facial expressions-"

"babe you don't need to be so formal, it's a tiktok"

"you shant say that, i must do this for this is my will"

BRO WAS FIGHTING FOR HIS LIFE ☠️☠️☠️

#freejungwon

riki ☆

youre an actress that's very popular

except some ppl hate you bc they think hating popular people makes them interesting *eye roll*

safe to say.... riki is your NUMBER ONE DEFENDER

like he is the ring leader to all of those [name] stan twt group chats

he's the one leading those discord raids on your hate groups OH MY GOD 😭

he has multiple accounts and he fights every person that dares tarnish your name

twitter is his battlefield and the keyboard is his sword

anyways one day riki is so deep into an internet fight that he GETS DOXXED 😭😭

like it wasn't even graceful

i think he'd make fun of one of your haters

and the hater goes "wanna see something funny? :)"

and BOOM

ADDRESS

IP ADDRESS

FULL NAME

PERSONAL EMAIL

PHONE NUMBER

dont actually dox people guys its not funny

when riki gets doxxed they get his full name right

and the hater, his assailent, and their little posse start searching his name on social media to further dox him

and BOOM #2

THEY FIND HIS INSTAGRAM ACCOUNT

now riki isn't stupid

so his ig acc is private

however.....

the profile picture of his acc is a selfie of you and him kissing

they also did research on him and found out that you and him went to the same high school...

in fact they found miscellaneous pictures posted online of you and him a few years back... holding hands n shit....

OH

SHIT

this goes viral over night

like

its so bad that even news headlines are covering it

"TWITTER USER @[NAME]LUVER1209, HOT ACTRESS [NAME]'S MOST NOTORIOUS INTERNET DEFENDER, IS REVEALED TO BE HER BOYFRIEND 😱😱😱"

i feel like the public's reaction to this would be really light-hearted

like i think mst ppl would be cheering riki on

"he's so real"

"oh my god i think i was mutuals with @[name]luver1209"

"this is what true love looks like"

you have super loyal fans and riki's mutuals so they support you too

except i do think theyd be in shambles, but in good fun

"i just found out [name] has a bf im going to flush myself down a toilet"

"i can't believe she chose @[name]luver1209 when his fancams are so shit... THAT SHOULD BE ME!!!'

"i've been here waiting in line for three years and this random @[name]luver1209 swoops in and takes my woman..."

riki's stan account gains a lot of followers

and so with your permission

he posts a selfie of you and him

probably with a cheeky caption like "KISS MY ASS!!!!"

i feel like people go back and watch old talk show interviews and stuff

and if you zoom in

you'll see riki in the front rows cheering the loudest 😭

bro is everywhere

in the future there's def a moment where like

you're at a live talk show

and the host asks you about the fiasco

and you can literally just point to him in the audience like

"yeah my boyfriend's right there-- hi baby!"

and riki from the audience, behind his phone that he's using to record you like its a fancam, is like "hi baby!" back

i dont think the media even calls him riki, he's stuck as @[name]luver1209 forever

not that he minds

😭😭😭

hyung ver.

[spirit-meets-the-b0ne]

God I love Dustin Henderson so much man, I know Will is in love with Mike because only a deeply down bad homosexual would be able to say Mike “is the heart” when Dustin is alive and in the party. Dustin is the one constantly mediating in S1 between Mike and Lucas, he’s even insecure of his own newness to the group when he conciliates. Because even though the party are all HIS best friends he is able to rationalize why they might have a hierarchy based on seniority. Mike makes it clear that isn’t the case. It’s partly why Dustin is quicker to accept Eleven and partly why he’s so open to including Max “as the new kid” because that was him once. Dustin’s iconic “she’s our friend and she’s crazy!” Dustin and Lucas having parallel deviations from their code of honor in ST2 and Dustin being (so dramatic ik) literally ready to fall on the sword for his misdoings. Dustin basically involving Steve out of necessity but then cultivating that relationship to make Steve a good friend, Steve who had the shittiest friends in high school and attention for all the wrong reasons. Steve never had a true friend in his life and then some 12 year old basically gave him a crash course. In ST3 when Dustin earnestly challenges Steve’s socially conditioned need to be seen as cool only for Steve to become bffs with a band geek. A band geek who is also a lesbian that Steve would rather be seen as a rizzless hack of a womanizer than out her to anybody, even Dustin. All of Dustin and Steve. Dustin going from calling Steve a douchebag, to Eddie saying the kid worships him and thinks he’s a total badass. Dustin who in ST4 is once again demolishing social norms of high school vs middle school because FUCK, his friend is in middle school! His friend Erica, his comrade Lady Applejack, is a black girl in junior high and he dgaf what anyone thinks about it. ALL OF DUSTIN AND ERICA. Dustin teaching Erica to embrace her inner nerd, to Erica staunchly declaring “I’ve bled with him!” When asked if she knows Dustin. Dustin who is the FIRST person that Max goes to when shit hits the fan in ST4 because god damn dude Dustin is the heart. Dustin’s unwavering support of Eddie even when the evidence is stacked against him, Dustin always believed in Eddie Munson. Dustin is the only one who truly offers Wayne condolences. He is the friend of all friends. Dustin is constantly carrying the party through crisis and discomfort, he’s dedicated, he’s unabashedly caring, and he’s the character that is able to socially move across the board in every direction. I fuckin love this little curly haired drama king because these geeks would be LOST without him!!! If Dustin isn’t the heart; he’s the Central Nervous System, he’s the nucleus, he’s fucking vital to not only the party but every other tertiary character of importance. He’s constantly inspiring and providing direction. He’s a goofball, he’s wise beyond his years, he’s a lover and he’s a fighter, he always has a plan and he always has a bad idea, he’s the voice of reason and the resounding falsetto alarm of things gone wrong, he’s never done anything wrong ever in his life, one time something ate his cat but besides that. He’s my heart of the show damn it!

[nyrasvoid]

In the Heat of Battle ⚔︎

♡︎ Gwayne Hightower x Fem!Reader

𖤓 Summary: Lady Caswell defies her family to become a healer in the war of the Stepstones. Amid the violence, she forms a bond with Ser Gwayne Hightower.

⚝ Warnings: violence, sexual assault attempt (nothing happens), includes themes of war and injury and explicit sexual content

♜ Things you should know: reader is from a minor house of the Reach (House Caswell), when the news of war are spread the ladies are given the choice to serve as healers. Reader prefers to serve as a healer in the battle camps than becoming a septa or marrying.

⚝ A/N: this is a bit like the relationship between Robb stark and his wife in GOT, just a reminder that my requests are open 😊

- Word count: 6k words (ik I went a bit crazy this time)

The hall of your family’s keep is quieter than usual, though tension hangs in the air.

You sit at the long table, your hands resting om your lap, trying to keep calm as your mother and father exchange worried glances from across the room. The fireplace is the only sound that fills the room. Your sisters sit nearby, their faces show their concern, while your two brothers stand at the back of the room.

You know why you’re all gathered here. It’s a conversation that’s been pending for weeks, ever since news of the war of the Stepstones reached your lands. You and the rest of the ladies were given a choice, but it’s clear that your family doesn’t see it as one.

Your father clears his throat, breaking the silence. "My daughter, you are the youngest of House Caswell. You must understand the choices before you. There are...expectations. It is time to think of your future."

Your mother nods. "We’ve spoken of this before. You could marry, my dearest. There are lords who would gladly take a girl like you. Or, if marriage isn’t your path, the septas will gladly take you in."

You’ve heard this all before. Marriage or the Faith. Those are the only options anyone sees for you. But they don’t understand. You don’t want to spend your life praying in a sept or playing the dutiful wife. You want something else.

“I don’t want to be a septa,” you say firmly. “And I have no interest in marriage, not right now. The war… they need healers. I can help.”

Your father’s brows furrow. He sits back in his chair, eyeing you with a mix of disbelief and frustration. "The battlefield is no place for a woman, especially not a daughter of mine."

“I agree,” your sister, Melissa, interrupts from across the table. She’s always been the dutiful one, her nose always buried in the books of history. “The gods have plans for us. You could do good in the Faith, sister. Don’t let the horrors of war tempt you from a safer path.”

“Safe?” You scoff. “The Faith doesn’t call to me, Melissa. I’m not like you. I do not hear the call of the Seven like you do.” You look at your sister. “I want to do something that matters, to help people. People who are suffering because of this war.”

“Being a septa helps people,” she tries to convince you, “you’d bring the Light of the Seven to those in need.”

“But that is not what I wish for,” you insist, “I want to help with my hands. Healing those who are wounded. Saving lives.”

Your older brother, Ser Arthur, steps forward, his voice firm. “Do you know what you’re asking for, sister? You’ve never seen war. It’s not some grand adventure. It’s blood and death, and it will haunt you long after the fighting is over.” He pauses briefly. “If you think healing will spare you from that, you’re wrong.”

Your younger brother, Theo, who’s barely old enough to hold a sword, speaks up, his voice shaky. “He’s right. I’ve heard the stories from the soldiers who’ve returned. The screams, the smells. The battlefield is no place for a lady.”

You turn to them. “I am not asking for a knight’s life. I know what war is. I’m not foolish.” You glance between your siblings and your parents. “But I will not stand by while men die if I can do something about it, let me help. It is my choice.”

Your father slams his hand down on the table, startling everyone. “And what of your duties to this house? You think you can just abandon them, throw yourself into the mud and blood of battle?”

Your mother’s eyes fill up with unshed tears, and she whispers, “You’re our daughter, sweetling. We just want you safe.”

You swallow hard, trying to fight back the tears that threaten to spill from your eyes. “I know you want what’s best for me. But I need to do this. Not because I want to run away from my duties, but because I want to make a difference. If I can save even one life out there, then that’s worth it to me.”

Melissa stands up, coming closer to you and resting her hand on your shoulder. “Please, sister. You’re smarter than this. You don’t have to go looking for death. The gods have other plans for you, if you’ll just listen.”

You turn to her, “I love you, Melissa. But I can’t live my life praying every single day, locked up in a sept.”

Everyone turns quiet, you could only hear your mother’s sobs and the fireplace.

Finally, it is your father who breaks the silence, his voice rough. “If this is truly what you want…” He shakes his head, sighing. “Then go. Serve as a healer. But do not say I didn’t warn you.”

You meet his gaze, nodding. “Thank you.”

Melissa looks like she wants to keep trying to convince you, but she just sighs in defeat. “May the gods protect you, sister.”

Arthur steps forward, resting a hand on your shoulder. “I hope you know what you’re doing”

“So do I,” you murmur, though you know this is the path you must follow, you still have some doubts in your mind.

As you rise from your seat and begin to make your way out of the hall, you feel the guilt of not listening to them, but you’ve made your choice. The battlefield may not be a place for most women, but you are not most women.

You will go, and you will help. No matter what anyone else says.

The morning you leave for the war, the sky is heavy with clouds, as if the gods were trying to tell you it was the wrong path. Your family stands around you, silent in disappointment.

Your mother is the first to approach you. She takes your hand, into hers. Her eyes are still red from the tears she shed last night. "Please, my dearest, be careful," she whispers, her voice cracking. "I know you think this is the right choice, but I can’t bear to lose you. You’re still my little girl."

You feel a bit of guilt but gently squeezed her hand in return. "I’ll be careful, mother. I promise. I’ll write whenever I can."

Your father stands a few feet away, his arms crossed over his chest. He hasn’t spoken to you since you made your choice.

"My daughter," he says, "If you find that this is too much, if you wish to come home, there will always be a place for you here."

You nod. "Thank you, Father. But I won’t be coming home until I’ve fulfilled my duty."

Your sister Melissa approaches next, she’s spent the entire night in prayer. "I will pray for you every day," she says softly. "May the gods guide you and keep you safe."

You smile at her, grateful for her words even if you no longer share her faith in the Seven. "Thank you, sister. But I will be relying on my own hands to keep me safe."

Arthur steps forward as he pulls you into a firm embrace. He doesn’t speak, but the hug says enough. "You’re braver than I thought," he says. "I just hope you know what you’re getting into."

"I do," you reply, meeting his gaze. "and I will come back, brother. Do not worry."

Your younger brother Theo, looks up at you with sadness in his eyes. "If I were old enough," he murmurs, "I would be going with you."

You ruffle his hair, "Well, I am glad you’re not. Stay here, and keep the family safe for me, all right?"

His smile turns into a pout, but he nods, "Fine," he mumbles. "But you better come back in one piece so we can play like we do."

You give him a small smile, although you want to do this, you do not like the idea of leaving your family behind. “I will come back in one piece, I promise.”

With one last glance at your family, you get on the back the carriage. You know this journey will change you. There’s no denying that. But you also know you’ve made the right choice.

As you ride away, the gates of your family’s keep slowly close behind you, and the view of your home begins to fade.

Your journey to the Stepstones begins, it is a long trip, longer than you expected, and after just a few hours on the ship, you’ve already had enough of the sea.

It’s uncomfortable, and filled with rough men, mercenaries, and knights—making their way to the battle in the Stepstones. Among them, you are one of the very few women, and the looks you get remind you of it.

But you are not alone. On the second day of the journey, you meet Lysa, a fellow healer, although her skills lean more towards battlefield survival and self-defense. She is very brave and before long, the two of you find yourselves sticking together, watching each other’s backs.

One evening, you and Lysa sit on the deck, talking about your families and why you both chose to leave them behind for war.

“So,” Lysa says, “you chose to be a healer instead of a septa. I have to say, I would have done the same, given the choice.”

You smile at her. “I couldn’t bear the idea of spending my life in a sept. Too quiet, too… restricting.”

Lysa laughs. “I get it. I couldn’t stand being tied down either. I’d rather be out here, risking my life, than sitting at home waiting for a husband.”

As you share stories, the bond between you strengthens. You find that you trust her in a way you’ve trusted few people in your life. It’s comforting to have a friend, especially on a ship full of strange and dangerous men.

But not everyone aboard the ship is as decent as Lysa.

That same night, as you make your way to your shared quarters, a man blocks your way. He’s an older knight, his face scarred, his breath stinking of ale.

“Now what’s a pretty thing like you doing in a place like this?” he slurs, leaning in too close.

You step back in disgust. “I am a healer, here to tend to the wounded. Nothing more.”

The man chuckles, his eyes roaming over your body. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll be doing plenty more. A pretty girl like you… I’m sure the men will find other uses for you.”

You feel sick to your stomach at his words. “I’d rather be eaten by sharks than entertain men like you.”

The man’s smile fades, “You ought to watch your tongue, girl. Do not forget your place.”

“Trust me,” you say loud enough for the surrounding men to hear, “I know my place. It is not in your bed, and certainly not besides a man who reeks like a wet dog.”

You can hear the laughter from the other men around, and the knight’s face flushes with embarrassment. You ignore his presence and go inside your shared quarters.

Lysa claps you on the shoulder when you reach her, smiling widely. “That was brilliant,” she says. “You put that dog in his place.”

You shrug, “I just hope he takes the hint.”

Unfortunately, the old knight doesn’t. Later that night, while you’re asleep, you hear footsteps in the darkness. Before you can react, a rough hand covers your mouth. Your heart pounds in your chest as you struggle to break free, kicking around as hard as you could.

But before the man can do anything more, he’s pulled away from you, and you hear a familiar voice. “Get your filthy hands off her, or I will slice your throat myself.”

The man growls, but Lysa doesn’t back down, she presses the knife to his neck and slightly cuts it.

“You’ve got some nerve,” Lysa whispers, standing over him. “Try something like that again, and I’ll throw you overboard.”

The knight, humiliated and angry, mutters something under his breath before retreating back into the shadows.

“Are you all right?” she asks, turning to you.

You nod shakily, your heart still racing. “Thanks to you.”

She sits down beside you, her expression softening. “Us women have to stick together out here. There aren’t many people you can trust on a ship like this.”

You take her hand, squeezing it. “I won’t forget it.”

The rest of the journey passes with fewer incidents, though the tension never quite leaves. You and Lysa keep a careful eye on each other, making sure that no one else tries anything again. When the ship finally reaches the Stepstones, you’re relieved to set foot on solid ground.

When you arrive at the healers’ tent, you’re greeted not by the woman you were expecting but by an old maester. He introduces himself as Maester Aegred, and though he is kind, you could see the surprise in his eyes the moment he saw you.

“You’re the healer?” he asks, raising his brow slightly.

“I am,” you reply, straightening your back, “Lady Caswell, sent by my family to serve here.”

Maester Aegred nods slowly, though he seems uncertain. “You’re one of the only women in this camp, I’m afraid. It will not be easy for you.”

“I’m not here because I thought it would be easy,” you say firmly. “I’m here because I want to help.”

The maester gives you a small approving nod. “Very well. Welcome to the Stepstones, Lady Caswell.”

He gives hands you a basket filled with herbs and bandages. “You’ll be starting with the fevered men,” he says, “Boil these herbs for teas, and keep their wounds clean. Watch for signs of infection.”

You get to work without hesitation, the first man you attend looks barely conscious, his face wet with sweat. You dip a cloth into cool water, before placing it gently on his forehead.

“There now,” you whisper, “Rest easy. I’m here to help.”

You prepare the herbal tea as the maester instructed, bringing the it to his lips. He barely sips it, but you’re persistent, bringing him to drink more. His skin is hot to the touch, and you pray the fever will break soon.

As you continue tending to the soldiers, the hours pass by. There’s little time for anything else besides cleaning wounds, applying creams, and offering them tea.

Days pass like this—hard work from dawn until dusk. You grow more accustomed to the sight of blood. Your hands become more skilled.

One afternoon, after days of dealing with nothing but fever and infection, you’re called to tend to a knight who’s been brought in from the front lines. His armor is dented, and his face is pale beneath a layer of blood. His men carry him into the maester’s tent.

“Bring water!” the maestro yells at one of the younger healers before turning to you. “Caswell, I need you over here!”

You rush to his side and assess the knight’s condition. His leg is badly wounded, a deep cut through the muscle. Blood keeps coming through the wrapped bandage.

“I’ll need to clean this and stitch it closed,” you say. The sight of such a severe injury would have once made your stomach turn, but now, you see only the work that needs to be done.

The knight’s eyes flutter open as you begin to work, and he lets out a low groan of pain.

“You’re… the healer?” he rasps, his voice rough from pain and exhaustion.

“Yes,” you reply, your voice calm as you clean the wound. “Stay still, and I’ll cure this soon.”

He’s in pain but does his best to remain still. “Not what I expected,” he murmurs, a hint of amusement in his tone despite the situation.

“And what were you expecting?” you ask, keeping your focus on his leg.

“An ugly old maester with cold hands,” he says gritting his teeth. “Not… someone like you.”

“Sorry to disappoint.” you say in amusement.

He lets out a weak laugh before groaning in pain. “I’m not disappointed… just surprised.”

“You’re lucky to still be alive,” you say as you finish cleaning the wound. “The cut was deep. If you hadn’t been brought in when you were…”

The knight nods weakly. “Thank you… for saving my life.”

“I haven’t saved it yet,” you reply, threading your needle. “This will hurt, but it needs to be done.”

He grits his teeth and nods again, preparing himself for the pain. You work as quickly as you can, stitching the wound closed. Despite his discomfort, the knight bears, only grunting occasionally.

Once you finish, you sit back, wiping the sweat off your face. “There you go. It should heal well if you keep off it and give it time.”

The knight exhales, “Thank you… Lady—?”

“Caswell,” you say simply, not offering your full name. There’s no need for it here.

His brow lifts as if trying to place your family name, and you see the moment he realizes that your house is one of little significance. “Ah,” he says simply, “a Reach girl, then. Far from home.”

“I go where I’m needed,” you reply “as do most of us who serve.” You pause before you realize that you still don’t know his name. “And you are?”

“Ser Gwayne Hightower,” he says, giving you a small smile. “Of Oldtown.”

You pause at the name. You’ve heard of him before, of course—who hasn’t? The eldest son of Otto Hightower, the hand of the King.

You nod, standing up to gather your supplies. “Rest, Ser Gwayne. You’ll need your strength.”

As you turn to leave, he calls after you. “Lady Caswell?”

You pause, turning around. “Yes?”

“Will I… see you again?”

You can’t help but slightly smile at the question. “Only if you’re foolish enough to get yourself injured again.”

With that, you leave the tent, though his words linger in your mind.

The days pass on, and Ser Gwayne Hightower stays in the maester’s tent, recovering from his wounds. Despite the chaos and demands of the camp, you find yourself drawn to him more often than you’d expected. Every time you pass his bed to check on other patients, his eyes follow you. Sometimes, he even offers a tired smile.

You tell yourself it’s nothing. Just another soldier in need of care. But there’s something about him that keeps him in your mind.

One morning, as you tend to another patient, you hear his familiar voice call out from across the tent. "Lady Caswell!"

You sigh, trying to focus on the soldier’s arm, but Ser Gwayne does not give up.

“Lady Caswell,” he says again, this time louder, "I am dying of boredom over here. Come and put me out of my misery."

You finish your task, shaking your head, but you can’t help but smile. This has become routine, Ser Gwayne calling for you whenever you pass by, always with some comment or complaint. You try not to encourage him, but the man is relentless.

As you approach his bed, you find him sitting up on the bed, looking far better than he did when he first arrived. The color has returned to his face, and his leg, still bandaged, seems to be healing well.

“Shouldn’t you be resting?” you ask, crossing your arms as you look down at him.

He shrugs. “Resting is boring. I’ve been staring at the ceiling for days now. I think I’m going mad.”

“And what would you have me do about it?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Talk to me,” he replies, as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You’re the only one in this place with anything interesting to say.”

You roll your eyes, but the truth is, you like speaking with him. “And what exactly do you think is so interesting about me?”

He leans back against his pillow, a playful smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “For one, you’re the only woman I’ve met who’d rather patch up wounds than sit in some lord’s castle or pray to the gods.”

You tilt your head slightly, furrowing your eyebrows. “Is that your way of saying I’m strange?”

His smile widens. “Strange? No. Unusual, perhaps. A good kind of unusual.”

You suppress a laugh. Despite his status, he doesn’t seem to carry the same arrogance as some of the other knights you’ve tended. Still, you remind yourself why you’re here. You’re a healer, not some maiden looking for a knight’s attention.

“Well,” you say, “I’m here to heal wounds, not provide entertainment. If you’re well enough to chat, perhaps you should be focusing on getting better so you can leave the tent.”

“Leave?” Gwayne looks offended. “And abandon the finest healer in all the Seven Kingdoms? Never.”

You smirk. “Flattery will get you nowhere, Ser Gwayne.”

He chuckles but falls silent as you reach for the bandages around his leg. Carefully, you peel the cloth to examine the stitches. The wound looks clean—no signs of infection, and the stitches are holding well.

“You’ve been keeping your leg high, I hope?” you ask, meeting his gaze.

Gwayne nods, “Mostly.”

“Mostly?” you repeat, raising an eyebrow.

He shrugs, “A man can’t lie around forever. I’ve been getting up—only for a short walk around the tent, of course.”

You sigh, “You’ll undo all my hard work if you push yourself too soon.”

“Aye, but how else am I to win your favor?” he teases.

You shake your head, standing up. “You’d better focus on getting well before you concern yourself with winning anything.”

As you turn to leave, he calls after you again, this time more serious. “My lady.”

You pause but don’t turn around. “Yes?”

His voice is softer this time. “Thank you. Truly.”

You nod once before continuing on your way, trying to push the thought of him from your mind. You don’t have time for distractions, not with so many lives depending on you.

Over the next few days, Ser Gwayne’s persistence doesn’t fade. Every time you pass his bed, he finds some excuse to speak with you, to ask you how your day is. You try to remain professional, to keep your distance, but it becomes harder and harder to ignore the way his presence makes your heart skip a beat, even if only for a moment.

One evening, you find yourself alone for the first time in what feels like weeks. You’re sitting outside the maester’s tent, the cool breeze making you feel relieved at least for a moment. For a second, you allow yourself to close your eyes and breathe.

But, as if summoned by your thoughts, Gwayne appears, limping slightly as he approaches. “Lady Caswell,” he greets you.

You open your eyes and look up at him, surprised to see him outside of the tent. “You shouldn’t be walking,” you say.

He lowers himself onto the ground beside you, groaning as he does. “I needed some air,” he says quietly. “And I think you could use some company.”

You sit beside Ser Gwayne in the quiet of the night.

“You know,” Gwayne begins, his voice soft, “this is the longest conversation I’ve had in a while that didn’t revolve around injuries or strategy.”

You chuckle lightly. “I can imagine. It’s not easy finding moments of peace in a place like this.”

Gwayne nods. “I’ve been thinking about what you said before. About how you came here to make a difference.”

“Yeah?” you reply, looking at him.

Gwayne meets your eyes, “You’re doing more than most of us, you know. You’re saving lives, giving hope.”

You blush slightly, “It’s not always easy. Sometimes I wonder if I’m making any real difference.”

“You are,” he insists, reaching out to gently touch your hand. “I see it. I’ve seen the way you care for everyone, how you give everything you have.”

You feel a shiver at his touch, the warmth of his hand against yours.

Gwayne leans closer, his eyes searching yours. “I know this isn’t the place for… this,” he says softly, “but I needed to tell you how much I admire what you’re doing. And how much I appreciate you.”

Before you can say more, he gently closes the distance between you, pressing his lips to yours. You respond, feeling the passion and longing in the moment.

But as the kiss deepens, a wave of realization hits you. This isn’t the time, and it’s certainly not the place for such feelings to complicate matters. You pull back gently, your breath quick.

“I’m sorry,” you say softly, standing up. “We shouldn’t… We’re both here for important reasons, and this—” you gesture between you, “—isn’t right.”

Gwayne looks at you with understanding, his expression a mix of regret and affection. “I understand,” he says quietly. “It was a mistake.”

“No,” you correct him, “not a mistake. Just not the right time. We both have too much to focus on right now.”

He nods, his eyes filled with warmth and a touch of sadness. “Goodnight, Lady Caswell.”

“Goodnight, Ser Gwayne,” you reply, offering him a soft smile before turning away.

As you walk back to your tent, your mind is a whirl of emotions. The kiss was a moment of connection, but the reality of your situation settles in. You need to stay focused on your duties and not let personal feelings distract you from the important work ahead.

The next morning you found Lysa outside the tent, sitting on a barrel.

“You know,” she said as you sat down besides her, “I’ve seen the way that knight looks at you.”

You sigh, not in the mood for this conversation. “He’s recovering, Lysa. His mind is clouded with fever and pain. He probably doesn’t even know what he’s saying.”

Lysa chuckled, shaking her head. “No, his fever broke days ago. Trust me, that man knows exactly what he’s saying.”

You glance at her. “It’s nothing.”

“Is it?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “I see the way you talk to him. You like him.”

You roll your eyes, “Lysa, I didn’t come here for this.”

“Maybe not,” she said, leaning back, her gaze shifting to the distant horizon, “but sometimes life gives you things you didn’t expect.”

You and Lysa were still talking near the tent when the distant thud of footsteps reached your ears. The sound wasn’t normal. It was too loud, too fast. Then, the shouting started.

“Attack!” someone yelled from the other side of the camp.

Soldiers were rushing to grab their weapons as a group of enemy soldiers burst through the camp, moving with terrifying speed.

You turned to Lysa. “We need to get the wounded out of here, now!”

Together, you rushed into the tent where the injured men lay, Ser Gwayne among them. He was awake but clearly in no condition to fight.

“What’s happening?” Ser Gwayne asked, struggling to sit up.

“The camp is under attack,” you replied quickly, moving to help another soldier out of his bed. “We need to move everyone before the raiders get here.”

Ser Gwayne tried to get up, but his leg gave out, and he collapsed back onto the bed. You hurried over to him, “You’re coming with us. No fighting.”

He frowned but didn’t argue.

More healthy soldiers rushed into the tent, and together, you began lifting the wounded onto a cart that had been brought to the entrance. You worked quickly, heart pounding, as the sounds of the attack grew closer.

One of the soldiers, helped you carry Ser Gwayne onto the back of the cart. “Let’s get them out of here!” he shouted.

The man climbed onto the driver’s seat, grabbing the reins of the horses. You and Lysa jumped up on the cart sitting with the wounded.

The horses raced forward, pulling the cart through the camp. You could see the flames now, the camp had been set on fire.

The wounded moaned and shifted with every bump, but there was no time to stop.

“We’re almost there,” the man muttered, his eyes scanning the horizon. You could see the cliffs that bordered the camp, and just beneath them, the mouth of the cave you had mentioned earlier.

The cave was deep enough to hide in, and for now, it was your only chance of getting everyone to safety.

As you neared the entrance, one of the soldiers riding beside the cart let out a sharp scream. You turned to see him clutching his side, an arrow protruding from between his ribs. He fell off his horse, but you couldn’t stop.

“No!” Lysa screamed in disbelief.

“We need to hurry!” you yelled, gripping the edge of the cart.

With a final burst of speed, the cart entered the cave’s mouth.

“We made it,” Lysa breathed, her voice trembling with relief.

You jumped down from the cart to help unload the wounded. The soldiers who had made it into the cave with you began pulling the injured men off the cart, laying them down on the cool stone floor. Ser Gwayne was the last one off, his face pale.

“Thank you,” he said quietly as you helped him to his feet.

“You can thank me when we’re safe,” you replied. Outside, you could hear the distant sounds of fighting in the camp, but for now, the cave was safe.

“We need to stay quiet,” Lysa whispered, moving to stand beside you. “If they find us here…”

“They won’t,” you said. You turned to Ser Gwayne, who was leaning against the cave wall. “How’s your leg?”

“I’ll manage,” he replied through gritted teeth. “But what now?”

You looked around the cave, your mind racing.

“We wait,” you said after a moment. “Just long enough for the fighting to stop. Then we move again.” See Gwayne nodded, although you could tell he wasn’t convinced.

The wounded soldiers groaned softly as they tried to make themselves comfortable on the rocky floor. Lysa sat beside one of them, her face tight with worry as she tended to their wounds.

The night dragged on, and the once distant sounds of battle now sounded closer every moment. You and Ser Gwayne sat at the back of the cave, listening to the clashing steel and the cries of men in the distance.

You stared up through the small opening at the top of the cave’s ceiling, where you could perfectly see the moon high in the sky. You glanced at Gwayne, who was leaning against the wall, his face pale and tense as he listened to the battle. His leg was stretched out in front of him, still causing him pain despite the bandages. Every now and then, you saw his hand twitch toward his sword, as though he were ready to fight again despite his injuries.

"They're not going to stop," you said softly, breaking the silence.

Gwayne looked at you, "No, they won't."

The battle was drawing closer. You had been hiding for hours, and the hope that the fighting would stop had vanished. Even if you went back, the camp would likely be destroyed, the supplies either burned or taken. There would be no help, no rescue.

"We might not make it through the night," you whispered.

Gwayne's gaze softened. He reached out and took your hand, squeezing it gently. "We might not," he agreed, his voice quiet.

“You ever think about how strange it all is?” Gwayne whispered after a moment. “One minute you’re fighting for your life, the next you’re here… staring at the moon.”

You smiled. “It is strange. But I suppose that’s life. Never quite what you expect.”

He laughed softly at that. “You’re far too calm about all of this. Most people would be panicking out of their minds.”

“Trust me, I’m frightened,” you admitted, meeting his gaze. “I just hide it well.”

He reached out, his hand brushing against yours, the touch sent a shiver down your spine, and you found yourself shifting closer to him.

“You’re something else,” he said softly, his voice low. There was an edge to his tone, something raw and unguarded.

You felt your pulse quicken. “Is that a compliment, Ser Gwayne?”

“It might be,” he replied, a teasing glint

You looked down at your joined hands. "I never thought it would end like this," you murmured, "In a cave, with nothing left but a few wounded men and no chance to save them."

Gwayne’s grip tightened. "It's not the end yet," he said, "But if it is…"

You took a deep breath, "If this is it… if this is the last night…" You said with a shaky voice, but you forced yourself to meet his eyes. "I don't want to spend it in fear."

Gwayne looked at you, he gave you a small chuckle. "You know… I've thought about that too. If we're going to die, why waste the time we have left in misery?"

You look at him, your gaze fixated on his lips "Then let's not."

Gwayne's eyes searched yours, and then, without another word, he pulled you toward him.

His lips met yours in a kiss that was both desperate and tender, filled with a need that went beyond mere desire.

He pulled you closer with his good hand. The kiss deepened, growing more desperate. You pressed yourself against him, your heart racing as his lips moved down pressing soft kisses against your neck.

He looked back up to you, “My leg’s no good for much, but I’m not about to let that stop us,” he whispered.

You smiled, “Then let me take over.”

Gently, you guided him down to the ground on his back, careful of his injured leg. He watched you with desperate eyes as you sat on top him, adjusting yourself carefully so as not to cause him pain. His hands instinctively slid to your hips, his touch firm but gentle.

Your hands rested on his chest, you could feel his heartbeat racing, matching the wild rhythm of your own. You leaned in close, pressing your lips to his with a tenderness that contrasted with the fierce urgency you both felt.

You broke the kiss for just a moment, sitting up to pull your shirt over your head. His eyes roamed over you with raw hunger, his hands sliding up to cup your breasts, thumbs brushing across your sensitive nipples.

“Beautiful,” he whispered, leaning up to press his lips against your collarbone, kissing his way down.

You gasped softly as his lips found a tender spot on your neck. Your hands moved to undo the ties at your waist, slipping out of your pants, leaving you completely bare before him.

With his help, you shifted slightly to tug his trousers down. He was already hard, his length pressing eagerly against your thigh as you settled back atop him. The tension between you both was almost unbearable as you pulled yourself up, the tip of him brushing against your wet entrance.

He groaned softly as you lowered your body and began to roll your hips against him. His hands gripped your waist tighter, helping to guide you as you moved.

“Does it hurt?” you whispered breathlessly.

He shook his head as he looked up at you. “No… it feels good. Don’t stop.”

“You’re perfect,” he breathed, his voice filled

with pleasure. He tilted his head up, capturing your lips in a kiss. Your bodies moved in sync, the sound of your panting breaths and the sounds of your bodies clashing filled the cave.

Your hands tangled in his hair, tugging gently as you kissed him harder, your hips rolling harder. You could feel yourself nearing your climax.

“Gwayne…” you gasped his name, breaking the kiss.

He groaned again, his eyes locked on yours as he thrust up into you with what strength he had,“I’m right here,” he whispered, his voice low.

That was all it took for you to come. Your body trembled as you reached your peak, your head falling back. You felt Gwayne follow moments later, his grip on you tightening as he came too, his body trembling beneath yours as he filled you.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, your breaths in uneven gasps. You collapsed against his chest, your bodies still connected.

His hands moved lazily up and down your back, a gentle, reassuring touch. You lifted your head, pressing a soft kiss to his jawline.

“That… was worth it,” Gwayne murmured, his lips quirking into a tired but satisfied smile.

You chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “I think so too.”

“I think I can die at peace now.” Gwayne sighed gazing at the moon.

“I think so too.” you nodded smiling at him.

Pt.2???

[lundenloves]

bro ik simon buys his daughter some silly ass shit on missions😭 like he will buy her a mug ( a mug, FOR A BABY. ) titled: "worlds best daughter and dad duo" .. wont even let the reader hold their kid as long as hes some n shit.. just pls dad!simon hcs PLS

you ask and you shall receive anon. here are the current thoughts swooshing around in my messy brain right now. 🪄

dad!simon masterlist | hc 2

my god definitely tho.

He’s the definition of girldad. To a T. Like, when she’s younger and he’s still new to the whole thing it’s all scary but once he’s past that and realises it’s literally just a tiny person. It’s over for everyone around him.

That little girl is worth crushing skulls for fr.

Waking up in the middle of the night to baby cries was something he took in stride. The first few times definitely scared the shit out of him and he wanted to wake you up. But then again, realising that it was just a tiny person. He would get up and probably fall asleep on the sofa with her instead of taking her back to the cot.

Not that he would admit it but he felt way more relaxed with her sleeping on his chest.

Shirtless.

SKIN. TO. SKIN.

When she gets older, she starts asking questions about him and his job and all the ‘why’ follow ups. We’re talking ages 7-9 here.

“Why wear skull stuff if you’re called Ghost?”

“It’s a callsign.”

“What’s a callsign?”

“A nickname.”

“Why?”

Literally his mini-me though. She follows him everywhere. All around the house, upstairs downstairs, outside inside. EVERYWHERE. He never grows tired of it though. Always entertaining the questions.

“Do you have a name?”

“Yes. I have a name.”

Then telling her it and she goes onto call him Simon for three days straight before moving onto another source of entertainment.

She draws pictures of 141. Penning a little version of herself in the middle of the men, a big arrow pointing to each of them labelled by their names spelt wrong. Sop. Pris.

Soap draws pictures back stfu.

Definitely the type of relationship with his daughter where they’re close until she becomes interested in boys and her dad is suddenly embarrassing lmaoooo.

Johnny is actually the embarrassing uncle.

Her first boyfriend my days.

I know by this point, he has another daughter. No one can convince me otherwise. He has a minimum of two.

“She’s gonna see her boyfriend.” The younger one would sing and Simon is right onto that shit. Dad stance n’ all.

“What age is he?” First question.

“Dad.”

LeaveTheDoorOpen™️

His kids don’t actually know what he works as. It’s like, no one knows exactly what their dad does. SAS shit or smth.

For forms, he just waves a hand of dismissal and is like, “Just say i’m in the army.”

“Are you in the army?”

“No.” this mf

Having two daughters definitely be teaching him a lot. Like periods. He never took them seriously until he was being barked at for the seventeenth time in one day, deciding in that moment to understand.

Also the designated bag holder and credit card user on shopping trips.

Dilf.

this is short but i’m writing a huge smut for him rn don’t tell anyone. you. yes, you.

taglist? click this link to complete the form.

[shroomi1e]

❝ realistic courting ❞

cyno + tighnari (separately)

summary: how they court you/act around you based off of the research i did on their animal counterparts

cw: none, mostly fluff, g/n reader

a/n: ik i could’ve added gorou and yae but dogs and foxes don’t rly have courting behaviors other than humping each other and I WANNA KEEP THIS PG 13🤬 and yes ik cyno rly isn’t a jackal but he’s based off of an egyptian god who’s a jackal, i also just wanted an excuse to write for the sumeru characters lol

cyno: the jackal

▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄

jackals are exclusively monogamous and live in pairs. they hunt, rest, and forage together and spend nearly all their time together. male jackals will urinate on their territory to ensure that other male jackals will not invade their environment or their female counterparts. once jackals are done mating, the male jackal will bring food to the female jackal and take care of them.

the moment cyno and you become official, he will never leave you alone.

the two of you are attached by the hip, and cyno will always be making sure that people know that you’re his, despite not being too fond of pda.

he’ll give you subtle touches here and there, whether it be putting a hand on your lower back to steer you away from the crowd, gently holding your hand before asking you a question, or resting his hand on your knee when the two of you are sitting together.

he’s also a lot clingier than he’d like to let on. he thinks he’s being subtle but it’s so painfully obvious when he grips the edge of your sleeve, his usually hardened eyes just a tad softer.

“i have to go run some errands, cyno…” you shake your arm a little in hopes of cyno’s hand releasing his death grip on your sleeve

his lips pout ever so slightly, his eyes falling to the ground in disappointment

you giggle at the thought of his subordinates seeing their boss like this, clinging onto you and pouting like a kicked puppy. “i’ll help with your errands then. please?”

you sigh in defeat and let your boyfriend accompany you as you do mundane tasks like grocery shopping and whatnot. but to cyno, being able to spend time with you is something to cherish, as he’s usually so busy dealing with affairs at the akademiya.

cyno is also very protective/possessive, glaring down at anyone who dares to even glance in your direction while you obliviously run your errands.

he won’t be super open about his possessiveness, but will instead show it once you two are alone. the moment the two of you are in private, he’ll give you a bone-crushing hug, refusing to let go until he’s done processing his emotions.

but if someone were to ever make you uncomfortable, he wouldn’t hesitate to summon his polearm, one arm extended to push you behind him as he watches your unwanted suitor crumple up in fear. 

and later when you two arrive home, he’ll just sit there and stare at you in silence, his brain muddled with thoughts.  

“is everything okay…?” you ask.

your boyfriend sighs. “it’s just… i didn’t like that he touched you that way.” he then lowers his voice before saying, “only i’m allowed to do that.” 

tighnari: the fennec fox

male fennec foxes mark their territory with urine and become incredibly aggressive toward one another, particularly when competing for females during the mating season. once they have found a mate, they mate for life with couples inhabiting the same part of the den for the whole year round.

it took a while for tighnari to decide whether or not to make things official. not because he didn’t like you, but because choosing a partner as a fennec fox-hybrid held a lot of weight for his kind.

but the more and more time he spent with you, the more difficult it became to be apart from you. sleeping at night became unbearable, and so did his day-to-day tasks. 

and though tighnari can be quite possessive, he tries to suppress those feelings since the two of you aren’t exactly official yet. but his patience wears thin after a while, especially when someone attempts to court you right in front of him

you can tell when he becomes agitated by the way his ears flick and twitch and the way his tail slowly sways side to side

won’t show the jealousy right in front of you but instead take it out in other passive-aggressive ways. like sending them to patrols as far away from you as possible, or making sure their assignments are as long as possible in order to occupy them and keep them away from you

he knows it’s petty, he knows it’s probably not a healthy way to process his feelings, but he just can’t help it. not when a potential partner-for-life is right there in front of him. 

but when tighnari finally gets the courage to confess, he makes sure you know the weight that this decision holds. you still remember how stern and serious he was when he first told you.

“I just want to make sure you know one more time: fennec foxes are partners for life. I don’t doubt our relationship, but in case you want to leave, I wouldn’t be able to let you. are you sure you’re willing to commit?”

when he hears you say yes, his pointed ears relax and his tail wags softly. he hugs you right there and then, burying his face in your neck and tickling your cheeks with the tips of his ears.

a few days later, he shyly approaches you to tell you that he’s moved your bunker right next to his

“back in my hometown, couples usually live together as soon as they make a relationship official. I… I know doing that may seem too forward, so I decided to just move your bunker next to mine instead… is that okay with you?”

he will respect your boundaries until you’re ready to join the traditions of his kind, but when you finally decide to move in with him, he is over the moon

[vampiric-tempt]

Hello!! I love stories soooo muuchh >^<

Since it’s that time of year, how would Smoke, and other mk1 cast of your choice react to being in a haunted maze with the reader?? TYYY🎃🎃🎃

↳˳❝ mk1 cast in a haunted maze☾⋆｡° Pt. 1 🎃

✦ headcanons w/ liu kang, kung lao, raiden, lin kuei brothers, johnny cage, kenshi takahashi, shang tsung, havik, & syzoth

a/n: My brain was thinking really hard on how they'd actually be in a haunted maze and this is the best I came up for the first half! Part 2 will include the mk women too!!!

Liu Kang ➤ He finds the attraction somewhat amusing. However he does not find it scary. Being a god has trained him to become wise and undeterred to such things, but he does enjoy your company and how you push him from behind so he could lead. It even boost his ego a little, feeling your hands cling to him with a small smile on his face.

Kung Lao ➤ He talked a big game, claiming that he'd protect you and that you can cling to him. However, deep down inside he is actually afraid. Will he show it or admit it? Probably not, but his hand does clench whenever a scare actor jumps out. When you guys reach the end, he puffs out his chest. "See babe? Wasn't scary at all."

Liar.

Raiden ➤ He was pushed to the front and admitted he was a bit nervous. He does get scared, but is extremely nice about it. Saying things like "Woah, you really got me there!" or "That costume is really. . .realistic." And he's okay with people clinging to him, he feels better knowing that you can be safe around him. Raiden is a sweet boy so he really enjoys the concept of Halloween, he finds it very fun and a great way to hang out with others.

Bi-Han ➤ He is. . . unamused. His face is grumpy throughout the whole thing and when people try to scare him, he just kind of stares with a raised brow. He charges through the maze without an ounce of fear, dragging you behind him because he wants to get this whole thing over with.

"Did you have fun?" You ask him.

"No."

Kuai Liang ➤ Like a father who finds it fun, but isn't really scared by it. He'd laugh in amusement every time someone jumps out and he has an arm protectively around you. He's heard of Halloween before, but never really experienced it in his younger days, so truthfully, he liked it when you dragged him along to the event. Of course, you did it only to use him as a shield, but Kuai Liang was okay with it.

"Are these truly supposed to scare people?" He'd ask, grinning at you.

Tomas Vrbada ➤ Took some convincing to get him to even go in. He tried his best to make excuses because yes, he was afraid, but more of Bi-Han's opinion. However, Kuai Liang told him it was okay and to have fun. So it resulted in the two of you both clinging to each other throughout the whole thing, screams leaving your throats every time something happened. Even though Tomas was scared shitless, he enjoyed the absolute thrill it gave him. He never got the chance to enjoy the simple pleasures of just being scared and having fun so he loved it in the end.

Johnny Cage ➤ "You go in first." He says.

"No, you go in first."

"You're being a pussy."

"Says you."

You and him ended up going in at the same time faking confidence and ended up clinging to each other in fear. You guys screamed the loudest screams you've ever scrumpt (Ik this is not a real word) and even ended up trying to push open a pull door. The scare actors were very entertained by you two to say the least.

Kenshi Takahashi ➤ He can't see, but was happy to be there as you helped him walk through the maze. He did get spooked by the random sound effects and louds screams they did so being blind didn't make him miss out on the maze entirely.

In the beginning though, he thought it was childish, saying "Really? You want me of all people to go in with you?" But he had fun nonetheless. He didn't outright say it though because he did not want to seem soft.

Shang Tsung ➤ He thought it was a waste of time, childish, and stupid. Did he go in though? Reluctantly, he did. He would get scared, but would be irritated by it. Huffing like the sassy man he is and rolling his eyes every time they managed to spook him.

"That was ridiculous, but the contraptions in there did give me some great inspiration."

. . .yeah, please don't ever show him the "Saw" films.

Havik ➤ An absolute menace. He laughs every time they try and scare him and sometimes he screams back just to see if he can spook them too. Most of the time he does because he not only screams, but tears off his limbs to terrify them even more.

"Earthrealmers are scared so easily." He chuckles in the most villain way possible.

Loves it because all he can hear are the screams of people and the decorations were pure chaos. Although he is a little upset that they aren't real. Why can't you just use real human corpses and skeletons? They're easy to get. . . to him at least.

Syzoth ➤ He was always very aware of his surroundings so don't blame him if he's a bit defensive the entire time. You had to reassure him that they wouldn't actually attack him and even if did understand, he'd still remained cautious. Even so, the maze did manage to spook him several times. Eventually, he eased into the concept of the holiday and began to enjoy himself. It was also a perfect place for him to be in his natural form, everyone complimenting him on his "costume". It made the zaterran happy as he gazed at the decorations in curiosity and awe.

╰┈➤ masterlist

[cntloup]

Medieval AU implied prostitution, homelessness, some foul language, punching and throwing around poor reader :(

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

You feel everything start to fade away. The sounds are muffled and your vision is blurry. Though you can still make out some words, “Whore!”... “Wench!” and such.  

You feel light-headed and dizzy as you’re thrown around and countless flying punches land onto your face and body.  

You can sense the metallic taste in your mouth become more and more unbearable and start to get nauseous from all of it, the severity of the pain and swirling around too much. 

Until you begin to feel numb. There's no pain anymore. And you can sense yourself slowly drifting into unconsciousness. 

But suddenly, everything stops. There's no punch or being thrown around anymore.

You don’t notice much as you lay still on the ground, but you can see the large figure hovering above you through the blur.

And that’s the only thing you see before you fall unconscious. 

----- 

You wake up surrounded by warmth, something you haven’t felt in a long time and a delicious smell you can’t exactly put your finger on. 

You slowly blink the drowsiness away and are met by an unfamiliar room. 

You push back the several blankets that are stacked on top of you and shuffle out of bed. 

You start to walk towards the smell, groggily and confused by your surroundings through the fog in your brain, from sleep or the numerous punches you took to your head, you don’t exactly know. 

You walk into the kitchen to meet someone with his back to you, facing the pot above the fireplace. That must be the source of the delightful aroma. 

Bits and pieces of scattered images start to come back through your memory and you wince from the sudden sharp pain in your head. 

“You should rest. Go back to bed. I'll bring you some stew.” he says in a deep voice without turning to face you. 

And you remember. The large figure you saw yesterday... was it yesterday? You must have lost track of time. 

He must’ve saved you from the crowd of savages who claim themselves men of God but are surely the embodiment of the devil. 

“Thank you.” you say, your voice weak from the hoarseness of your throat. And that’s the only thing you say since you still feel weak, also you can sense that he is not much of a talker and you wouldn’t want to be a nuisance. 

“No need to thank me, love.” he responds, still in the same deep voice but softer tone. 

‘Love?’ you ask yourself, surprised of such sentiments from such a man. But you can’t deny that it does indeed make you feel a little bit fuzzy. 

It's been a long long time since any man has shown you any kind of affection, even the smallest bit, let alone save you from some heartless monsters and take you in his home, give you shelter and food. 

They always only care for their own pleasure. They even go as far as to wreck their own home, their family, only to get just a little bit of taste of that forbidden fruit. And you offer them just that.

But you are most grateful to this kind man. Whoever he is. And you won’t take it for granted.

ik i already have so many wips but i'm gonna start a series for this one since i'm obsessed with medieval au rn :')

[joontroverted]

best friend gojo who's here to help you with your pms!

pairing : gojo satoru x reader

word count : 2.2k

tags : reader has pms, groping, titty sucking, grinding, clit rubbing, gojo is heavily implied to be the bisexual loser who gets no bitches that he is, nanami mention (who do you think I am after all), a lot of back and forth between him and reader. if not smutty, ik you will find this funny 😁

obviously gojo satoru is more of an active person, he'd rather be outside than inside, but he'd lock himself in jail if that meant he could spend some time with you. that's why he's here, bursting in arms filled with sweet treats. you groan, sitting up, making grabby hands for the gummy bears and he snickers, squeezing your cheek.

"you're not funny, satoru," you mutter, adjusting yourself in bed again.

"but I do get it! once a month, you and I become extremely similar, united by a hunger for sweets!" he laughs, tossing another sweet in the air and catching it with his mouth.

"how the fuck hasn't shoko beat some sense into you to speak to women with more respect," you say, smacking him over the head with a pillow.

the time passes, too slowly for your liking. satoru, to his credit keeps himself busy, chattering on about something or the other. you're busy twisting around in bed for a better position to provide yourself some relief from the random cramps, and satoru cannot help it.

he cannot help himself from staring at you.

all this while, he had been yammering on about anything he could think of, trying to distract himself from you. but here you are, refusing to settle down in one place.

he didn't really know all of the biology of the entire cycle, but he knew enough to figure out that periods come a month away from the last. and if he didn't figure out himself, your bitching was enough for him to know that the time was here.

he had burst into your apartment all cheery to give you some good vibes (and give himself some good vibes), and had walked right into your room to see you looking drained and angry. like he could focus on that when you were just sitting there, looking delicious. 

sure, you look good all the time. of course you dress up when you go clubbing, curves all fitted in a snug dress, hair and face done to the t. but now… god. the heat had made you forgo the usual hoodie or baggy shirt you'd pull on and you had instead worn an old tank top with a pair of booty shorts which you had announced you only put on because you heard him come in.

like damn who asked you to do that, but whatever makes you comfortable.

but.

your tits. your tits. your tits. your tits had swollen up, as they do every period, and they were trapped and straining against the tank top you had thrown on, which was obviously not built for the extra curve of them. and your nipples, fuck. they poked through the material, hard, prominent and enticing.

he sneaks another peak at them, and his eyes nearly fall out of his fucking head when he saw that in all the time he was lost in his thoughts, mindlessly blabbering, you're grabbing them.

round, juicy tits were in your hands, and you are squeezing them periodically, with your eyes closed, breathing slowly. he watches the cleavage peeking out of your neckline, the bulge of your boobs bouncing up and down as and when you squeezed them, and the little sighs that you keep giving. he gulps.

before he knows it, more like a horny panic response, he reaches forward and jabs your thigh. 

“ow, what the fuck?” 

your eyes fly open and you stare at satoru, who himself has no clue what the fuck just happened. and your hands. your hands are still grabbing your fucking tits.

“you weren't listening to my story,” he manages, his tongue thick and useless in his mouth.

you look like you could slap him. he would accept that. he wishes he could slap himself. 

“the fucking story about how you charmed your way to the front of the line at the coffee shop (not starbucks, fuck starbucks) once again? that fucking story?”

he just has to soldier through this. “yeah, that story! it's impressive to make your way past the old coffee addicted coots before their 9 to 5. if you want to massage your tits that bad do it on your own time!”

oh no. now he's said it. he’s brought attention to the the melons- elephant in the room.

“you are so useless,” you hiss. “you useless, useless man.” you are rising onto your knees and making your way closer to him. 

his eyes widen as he leans back. he chuckles nervously. “hey, i'm not entirely useless. i mean, i can take away your period, but just for -”

your hand shoots out and grabs his face. “if you pull that pathetic playboy shit on me right now i'm gonna slap you so hard you'll see stars,” you whisper.

satoru doesn't dare breathe, the space between you two is so small, lips almost touching, your breasts heaving. 

“how big?”

“wh- what?” he stutters. 

men and women and almost everyone who has laid eyes on him have tried to smooth talk him, and here he is, stuttering for you. 

“how big are they?”

oh! your tits! your fucking tits!

“big. bigger. bigger than usual. beautiful.” he muddles.

you huff, and seem to relax a bit. “good,” you say, pulling back a little. “now use them.”

with that, you turn away and plop down right in front of him, ass pushed against his crotch, and he can just hope that you don’t feel how hard he is right now. 

“what,” he says again, stupidly. yes, he always dreamed of this day. no, he didn't know what the fuck was going on.

“your hands satoru. use your hands! you keep comparing hand sizes with me, so use your big fucking hands to massage me!”

his hands. his stupid hands. okay.

“jeez just say that, you tease. and here i thought that i could feel up a girl after so long,” he jokes, the only way he knows how to get out of this situation, his face still hot. he grabs your shoulders and squeezes haphazardly, “juicy tits are rare to come by, after all i can only jump nanami so many times before he -” 

you grab his hands from your shoulders and pull them from the back around your body to your tits and squeeze. 

“oh,” you moan. “oh god, that's good.”

you're too deep in the sauce to notice that satoru's brain's been fried. his fingers just follow your directions, fingertips digging into the plush flesh, while you moan away. you tip your head back, eyes closed. he stares at you, the relief you’re in and how you're openly just using him for your own gain so unabashedly. your head hits his shoulder, causing your eyes to open slightly, making direct eye contact with him. that snaps him out of the daze that he's in.

“yeah?’ he mutters, his voice low, “you like that?”

“uh huh,” you nod, eyes not leaving his.

“all right cutie,” he chuckles, “i'll give you what you want.”

he finally goes with the flow and starts massaging. his big hands circle around each breast, gathering them entirely, and squeezing. his thumbs grind down on the neglected sides of your tits in circles, pulling out an unexpected moan from you.

“oh, that was good!”

“yeah? tell me more,” he says, steadily pushing them in and out.

“they were just- just so sore, toru. and yesterday i was out the entire day, and you know i had to wear a bra because i can't just not wear a bra! so they were so so restricted and tied up! so obviously i don't wear a bra when i'm at home -”

he knows. he's seen. 

“- but i don't know, the soreness just somehow feels different and worse now? because they so heavy and swollen, and they're hanging down, nothing to hold ‘em up!”

“aww, poor baby. why didn't you tell me earlier, huh?” he asks, working his way around your breasts.

“i don't know… my head's been so fuzzy, and my cramps are pretty bad too.”

“well that's okay cutie. i'll be there from now on, yeah?” he whispers into your ear. even beyond his own horniness, he really does want to help you. he didn't know he too could benefit from this though.

“yeah… thank - oh!” you shriek.

“what?”

“my nipples, oh, they're just too sore, toru! you need to be gentle!” you huff.

“‘m sorry baby, i'll be more careful, kay?” he mutters, looking down at your hard nipples, poking through the strained material of your tank top. since today has been full of miracles for him, he decides to push his luck. “can i… can i see ‘em?”

see them? you had definitely been lost in the bliss of the situation to see the realness of it. to see that the line between friendship and the light flirting that had been going on between you and satoru off late had been getting blurrier by the moment. you are too horny and in need of pain (and horny) relief to be thinking clearly. 

“nothing has to change, kay?’’ whispers satoru into your ear. “it's just you and me… and your tits between us, obviously” he giggles, nipping your ear a bit.

you look at him. things would change, you decide, looking at the slightly dizzy look he has, his eyes lidded, lip between his teeth. he's easier to read than he thinks he is. knowingly, you nod.

“atta girl,” he whispers, positively buzzing with excitement. he pushes himself off from behind you, instead laying you down on the pillow he was leaning on and coming to the front. “atta fucking girl.”

he slides down your body, tossing away the blanket that was loosely thrown over your legs, showing your thighs and your shorts hiked up enough for them to just look like underwear. he wants to settle his face onto them so badly, but that's a task for another day. for now, he looks up. 

you're looking down at him, your usually pissy face wide eyed, waiting for him to make his next move. he can't help but smirk at how cute you look, especially considering how much you gag or at least pretend to gag whenever he flirts with you. 

“i'm gonna lift this up, okay?” he tells you, holding the hem of your tank top.

you nod.

he pulls the hem up, up and over your tits, exposing them. the air hits your nipples, causing them to pebble even more. 

“fuck,” he whispers, his eyes wide and unblinking. “fuck baby, they're beautiful.”

“they're all swollen and… stuff,” you mutter, not knowing what to say.

he reaches forward and grabs the two mounds, one in each hand. 

“hi!” he says to the one in his right hand, jiggling it, “hi!” he says, now to the left one, jiggling that one too.

“satoru, you're such a dor- oh!”

he's opened his mouth and latched onto your right nipple, his wet, warm mouth, enveloping the smaller, tender bud. years of sucking on lollipops, and other things, makes him really, really good at this. eyes closed, he sucks and sucks, tongue circling the nipple and lapping it up. the pointy, sensitive bud is soothed by his constant suckling, causing you to moan out loud. that finally gets him to open his eyes and gaze back at you, pausing his administration. 

“i'm such a dork, huh?”

“shut up, god!”

“no god, just satoru gojo,” he says smarmily, nuzzling into your other boob, his hair tickling your neck, and under your chin.

you smack his head and he snickers. he goes back to suckling on your tits, plump lips leaving a trail of shiny gloss on your tits as he kisses them away. his hand continues to massage your other tit, and his other hand is, well… gripping your thigh.

“satoru,” you gasp, but he pays no heed. you push him away from you slightly. “satoru!”

that breaks him out of his daze, looking up at you. “did i do something?”

“could you um… could we grind?” you whisper.

“i can touch your pussy?” he ask hungrily, eyes gleaming.

“no!” you yelp, “not directly at least, we aren't there yet. but could i… grind on you for a bit?”

“fuck yeah you can!” he almost shouts. he pulls his leg up, his knee pushing against your clit.

with how sensitive and horny you are, that little move makes you moan, sending shivers up your body. and this bratty demon descends upon you immediately. he’s back to suckling on your tit, while the other hand massages your other one, gently pulling your nipple now and then. the sensitivity added with the gentle tugging creates a delicious sort of slightly painful yet soothing delight. your back arches and he most definitely cannot be comfortable in his position to satisfy you in every place all at once but he doesn't even pause for a moment, not letting up on his knee grinding on your clit. 

“satoru, satoru, slow down,” you gasp, the sensitivity knowing no bounds.

“no,” he replies “i don't get to see you in your panties even! i'm taking whatever i caaan,” he says in a sing song way, going back to his sucking.

“fuck you!” you gasp, writhing at this point.

he makes a sound that you cannot decipher, and moves his hand from your thigh to your clit, pinching it, eyes flitting up to see your reaction.

“fuck! fuck!” you exclaim, “more, toru, please!"

"yeah baby?" he asks, rubbing which circles around your clit, as if he would ever hesitate to give you anything, ever. he looks down at you, the state you're in. tank top pushed all the way up, uncovering your breasts, your soft tits jiggling up and down, as you grind down to meet his fingers. and as he looks down to his fingers, he sees the prominent lips of your pussy through your shorts as his fingers pressed unwavering against your little clit. one day. he is so close.

you are so close.

the heat in your body is building up, the pressure in your tummy rising. the band stretches tighter and tighter and satoru, that evil boy is only enjoying this. your period addled brain cannot ever string together an insult to throw his way, and instead you wantonly moan, motioning for him to come closer.

he leans in, an eyebrow quicker up.

"kiss," you whisper. "needta kiss you toru."

that takes him by surprise. 

"of- course you can, pretty girl," he whispers back, "been dreaming of this day".

with that, your lips meet, and it's immediately sloppy and desperate. tongue and gloss and indignance from both sides have your eyes rolled to the back of your head soon enough, so much so that you don't even realize that you've let go of the pressure that was building up, the band snapping.

with a gasp, you orgasm, shaking against satoru, who doesn't even seem to be phased. he's taken lapping and nipping against your lips as you come down from the high. your shaky fingers come to grasp his toned arms.

"hmm, how's that for some pms relief, huh?" he mutters against you, laying himself on you gingerly, making sure he isn't squishing your tits accidentally. "good job, both of you," he says, looking at your tits.

"and good job to you too, cutie," he says, looking up to you. he looks content and smug. "still think I'm a dork after all that?"

you pull a face, too sleepy and too, well whipped to insult him. he looks so sexy and adorable at the same time. proud and happy and eager all at once, his hair sticking up. you reach out to ruffle his hair and pull his ear. 

"you're not off of massaging duty though. I have a full night's sleep to catch up on after I clean myself up," you grunt, pushing yourself off of the bed to go to the bathroom. 

satoru follows you, like a puppy. 

you turn back to look at him. "are you gonna um… take care of yourself?"

"yeah, about that," he mutters, looking away, his hands hovering over the crotch of his sweatpants. "you don't have to worry about that- "

you yank his hands away from his crotch to reveal a dark stain down the front of it.

"you fucking dork!" you exclaim, laughing "you came just from that? I didn't even touch you!"

"yeah yeah, laugh all you want, after using me like that" he rolls his eyes, his cheeks pink. 

"when did you even come?"

he remains quiet.

"satoru," you egg on gleefully, almost forgetting all the pain you are in.

"there was a lot of precum when you first made me grab your tits… and then I came when I… when I saw em bare for the first time," he trails off.

you smack his shoulder. "you pathetic boy!" you laugh, "is that why you wouldn't let up on me"

"fuck off, you're such a meanie, and after I just gave you the best time ever!" he shouts, closing his ears, dashing past you to the bathroom. 

you follow him, and he's kicking off his sweatpants and pulling off his underwear. "don't look!" he shrieks, face red. 

"I'm not looking" you laugh, turning away and beginning to change too. "I just wanna get cleaned up and go back to sleep."

he grunts. "can I -"

"can you what?"

you see the tips of his ears are pink as he throws one of the many pairs of shorts he left at your place before. 

"can I suck on your right tit and jiggle your left one while you sleep and after that maybe put my head between your thi- "

"satoru!"

first smut fic yay!

comments, likes, reblogs and excited rambling tags are HIGHLY APPRECIATED! ❤

[initialchains]

shadow of a heart | luke castellan.

pairing: luke castellan x fem!reader

summary: luke’s last day at camp and everything that comes with it.

wc: 3.1k

warnings: book spoilers and (shocker) luke being a bit toxic but its all internally

a/n: this is based on cosmic love by florence and the machine !! aka one of my fave songs of all time. sorry ik i disappeared for a while :( i hope this fic is good enough as an apology <33 also i think it is impossible for me to not talk about the stars and sky in a fic …

Luke could swear his heart was about to burst out of his chest. The sound of unclaimed children snoring and the sight of his siblings peacefully sleeping didn’t seem to help him calm down, he ran a hand through his face before closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. He had to calm down. He couldn’t risk fucking this day up. After all, waking up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat and with his heart running a marathon wasn’t the most pleasant way to kick off his last day at camp. His last day ever. 

“Don’t fail, Son of Hermes. Unless you’re a coward,” The Titan’s voice rang in his ears, causing his breathing to come out short and his chest to rise up and down at a fast pace. Luke gasped for air, pressing his free hand against his chest.

His body reacted faster than his brain. His mind blinding him with a fog of fear. Fear of not being strong enough for the Titan Lord. Fear of being too weak to take out the scorpion he currently had hidden under his bunk. Fear of losing his only family. Fear of losing you. 

Luke had to take a second to remember the reasoning behind his actions. Reminding himself to not be scared, because why should he be scared? The gods should be scared, not him. If they hadn’t neglected and abandoned their children he wouldn’t have to do this. How dare they make him feel scared? After everything they’ve done to him, after all his losses, after all the times he had to press his hand against his mouth in the shower to muffle his sobs… why should Luke be scared? 

His heart slowly returned to its normal pace and Luke took advantage of it to throw his bedsheets to the side and step out of his bunk, walking in careful steps towards the door, making sure to skip over the pieces of wood that always creaked under his feet. The six years he spent under the roof of the Hermes Cabin helping him learn the best ways to sneak out without getting caught.

 At least something good came out of it, he thought. 

And even if he got caught, what would the children do? They admired him. He was The Strong and Brave Luke Castellan, the most skilled swordsman in the last three hundred years. The campers would be too intimidated to rat out their counselor. 

The certainty of his dominance over the campers was enough to fuel his last steps and open the door. Luke was greeted with a starry sky and a quiet night, the wood nymphs not humming in their sleep for probably the first time ever. He thought this was fitting. Camp Half-Blood being quiet on his last day. It’s almost as if the Camp was silently begging him not to leave.

Look at us. Look at how quiet it will be. Look at how dark the safe haven of the demigods will become. You’ll take the stars with you when you leave. 

He shook his head, trying to get rid of the loud thoughts he was having. Luke had it all planned out, all he had to do was pack his things and leave. 

No.

All he had to do was pack his things, make sure the Son of Poseidon dies, betray his sweet and brave little sister, betray you.. and leave. 

Stay. Just stay. It won’t be dark if you stay. Don’t take the stars away from your family. 

Luke was sure he was going crazy. He probably has been for a long time but he became certain of it when he gave up everything just to prove his loyalty to The Titan Lord. 

But despite all the rage he had inside him, a part of him wanted to run straight to the Big House and tell Chiron all about his wrongdoings. He wanted to get on his knees and repent for stealing The Master Bolt and The Helm of Darkness. He wanted to cry into your arms and reassure you of all the love he held for you. 

How could a silent camp be so loud at the same time? 

Luke walked to the combat arena and took Backbiter out of its hilt. The weight of it not even coming close to the weight he felt on his shoulders. His hands shook as he stared at the blade, the mix of tempered steel and celestial bronze making him feel sick. A feeling of impending doom settling in his gut.

“It can kill mortals, demigods, and immortal divine beings,” He remembered his master’s words. Luke’s reflection on the blade stared back at him, his scar being more prominent than usual.

Was he cursed? Maybe he was doomed from the moment he was born. 

He was fourteen years old when he stopped believing in salvation. The thought of there being a paradise where he’d end up happy and in peace seemed impossible to him, almost unimaginable. He had been fighting his entire life, not ever knowing peace or unconditional love a day of it. Sure, he assumed his mother loved him before she turned into... whatever she was now. But he stopped believing in the goodness of the world when he packed his bags at just nine years old and ran away from his house. After all, that’s what it always was: a house, not ever really a home. 

He was sixteen when he found his home. After two years of grieving Thalia’s death and sobbing silently in the showers—not ever daring to let Annabeth see him as weak, he found his home. He met you. Someone who would listen when he’d ramble about his mother’s homemade sandwiches and cookies, the ones he always claimed were “Kinda bad and didn’t miss at all,” never forgetting to mention that his mentally unstable mother is probably so far gone by now and probably doesn’t even remember the recipe. 

Luke twirled the sword with his right hand, trying to get comfortable with the newfound weight. He stared at Backbiter, noticing how it even made him feel scared, the darkness it held made him want to sneak into the Forge and melt it down. 

He tried to calm himself down by remembering one of the thousand times he shared stories about his mother while you silently listened. 

“I mean it, she thought those sandwiches were the peak of cuisine and yeah, I was nine so I guess it probably was, but... really? She could’ve done so much better. I suppose I can’t blame her for it, I would be a mediocre parent if someone like Hermes was co-parenting with me,” He explained while playing with your hair, his slender fingers moving in a delicate way while he kept his eyes on the campers risking their lives as they flew higher than they should with their pegasi. 

You didn’t miss the way he laced his tone with disgust when he said his father’s name, but you knew better than to reprimand him for it. “Beckendorf is totally going to fall off that damned horse,” You chose the safe answer, changing the direction of the conversation to something more lighthearted. 

Luke snorted next to you before poking your side with his free hand, “You’ve been in this camp for three years and you’re still calling them horses? Gods, what would Zeus say?” You could hear his smile even though he tried to mask it in his faux angry statement. 

“What would Zeus say? I’m sure you would love to know, Castellan. You should ask him in two weeks,” You replied, turning your head to the left to face him and poking him in the chest. You took notice of Luke rolling his eyes when you reminded him of the most dreaded time of the year: The annual winter solstice visit to Mount Olympus. 

“Don’t tempt me, angel. I’ll even tell him my sweet girlfriend was the one who ordered me to ask him about it,” He said, before leaning closer to you and pressing a soft kiss against your forehead, his hand moving from your hair to your jaw, caressing it in the tender way he always did. 

“Alright, alright. I get it, you win.” 

A bright smile made its way to Luke’s face, “Just another day on the job.”

“Just another day of you being a huge—” Your statement was interrupted by a loud thud and the sound of campers screaming, begging for a medic. The two of you were quick to stand up and run to the stables just to be greeted with the sight of a group of campers surrounding a clearly injured Charlie Beckendorf. 

“Fuck, Beckendorf. I’ll go check if there is a free spot in the infirmary for you but you need to be more careful when you play around with that horse.” You turned around, trying to ignore how worried you felt for your Son-of-Hephaestus friend, ready to sprint all the way to the Apollo Cabin. 

You were a few feet away from the stables when you heard a yell coming from behind you, “It’s a Pegasus, baby!”

You screamed back a “Shut the fuck up, Castellan!” and tried to ignore the wide eyes you got from the younger campers who heard the not so pleasant word come out of your mouth. 

Luke didn’t know how long he spent in the combat arena trying to get comfortable with the weight and darkness Backbiter had, but the sun was out and shining its bright rays down on Camp Half-Blood by the time he finally got tired. He panted and closed his eyes as he felt a wave of exhaustion take all over his body. 

He just didn’t know if he was exhausted from training or exhausted from keeping secrets from you. 

“Don’t get mad but that new sword looks kinda..” Your voice had him snapping his eyes open, the sight of you walking towards him making his body feel lighter. Luke felt so relieved to see you that he considered dropping down to his knees and breaking down crying over the weight he was carrying. If he hadn’t been in a public space he might as well have done it.

“It looks kinda?” He answered, running the back of his hand through his forehead, trying to get rid of the sweat trickling down from his hair.

“Kinda shit,” You continued. “I think the sword being double edged is cool but it’s stupid to have that. When would we ever maim a mortal? The tempered steel is useless.” 

Luke gave you a small smile before looking away from you. When would we ever maim a mortal? You’d be surprised, he thought. He looked up again to meet your eyes, a frown taking over your features. Luke’s heart sank when he saw your worried demeanor. 

“Hey, what’s wrong?” You whispered, walking closer to him and cupping his cheeks, running your thumb under his scar before leaning closer to him and kissing it. 

Luke hummed at the sensation, he always felt less ashamed of himself and his actions whenever you kissed his scar or caressed it. He didn’t understand why but he liked having the knowledge of someone not seeing the scar as proof of his blatant failure, he liked knowing you saw the scar as another beautiful part of him—a part you loved. 

He turned his head to the left, kissing the palm of your hand and replying with a low, “Don’t worry about it. You know how I always get when it’s the last day of Camp for the summer campers.” 

It wasn’t a complete lie. Luke always felt sick whenever this day arrived because he knew half of the campers he met this year wouldn’t be coming back. They’d be lucky if they even survived all the way to December. 

“No, Castellan. I will worry about it. If it’s important to you then it is important to me,” you answered, matching his low tone as you stared into his eyes, feeling captivated by the light they held inside of them. You were sure a star fell straight into them and that’s why they always reflected light and love.

Luke sighed and took your hand that was cupping his cheek, intertwining it with his.  “Fuck, I’m going to miss you so much,” he whispered, almost as if he was talking to himself. 

“You do know I’ll come back to camp for Christmas, right? Plus, we can Iris Message whenever you want. You don’t have to miss me, Luke,” you reminded him. Luke almost keeled over and vomited at the knowledge of you thinking you’ll see him again in Camp. 

“I always miss you, angel. I’m even missing you right now,” Luke answered, leaning down to steal a quick kiss just to be stopped by a hand pressed to his chest. “What the fuck?”

“You’re sweaty as shit, Castellan. Go take a shower and maybe I’ll let you kiss me when you’re done.” That was enough motivation for Luke to mutter an annoyed “Fine,” and walk to the showers. 

Luke spent more time under the showerhead than usual. It was his last day at camp, he reminded himself. He deserved to take a long cold shower without the worry of Mr. D getting mad at him for “Wasting the cold water on just himself.” He could use all the water he wanted because he was never going to step a foot inside this place ever again. 

Plus, he could use this alone time to think. Think about the finality today will bring. An end to his years at camp. An end to his loyalty to the gods. An end to his bond with Annabeth. An end to his relationship with you.

That’s probably what scares him the most–the thought of you deciding to go against him. He doesn't know if he should let you know about the things that were bound to happen tonight or if he should just keep you in the dark. 

Two frightening options: Bringing you to the light and showing his true self to you or keeping you in the shadows.. never fully knowing how broken and rotten he truly is. 

He tried to not think about the second option for too long. Because even if you did find out and he went through with Kronos’s plan causing the sky to remain starless forever, he knew you would choose to stay in the shadows for him. He trusted you and knew you would rather stay in the darkness than go against him.

The rest of his day went by faster than he wanted. He sparred with a few campers, got used to Backbiter’s weight by fighting some training dummies in the combat arena, spent time with his siblings, and sat next to you in the dining pavilion. It all seemed like a normal day at Camp Half-Blood. 

Well, at least that’s how it felt until Percy Jackson came back from his visit to Mount Olympus. 

The campers celebrated his return by lighting up fireworks and cheering his name every two seconds. It all made Luke feel sick. Why didn’t he get treated like that when he came back from his quest? All he got was a scar, looks of pity, and dead quest companions.

 No heroic welcome and no fireworks. Just burnt shrouds, mourners, and a feeling of self-loathing taking all over him. 

“Hey,” your voice made him drag his gaze away from the green fireworks lighting up the night sky. He turned his head to the right, meeting your eyes and raising a brow.

“I am pretty sure you owe me a kiss,” he said in a playful tone, taking notice of how the light of the fireworks illuminated your face just right, making the light look like a halo around you. 

Maybe he was wrong. Maybe it is impossible for there to be no light and for the sky to be starless. There will always be light as long as your heart is beating and your eyes are set on him.  

“Huh, do I? I don’t think I do,” you replied, biting your lip trying to prevent a smile from taking over your face. 

“Oh, shut up,” Luke answered, finally taking your face in his hands and kissing you. He almost fell to his knees at the feeling of your lips moving against his. The kiss was like a comet’s trail, leaving behind luminous particles of Luke’s hidden secrets and unspoken desires. 

You pulled away first, trying to catch your breath as you kept your eyes closed and your forehead pressed against his. “What’s wrong?” you whispered, asking him the same question you did in the morning.

“Why do you ask?” Luke answered in between pants, his breathing uneven due to the intensity of the kiss you shared. 

“You were.. somewhere else when I walked here. Lost inside your pretty little mind,” you explained. Luke hummed when he heard your answer. 

“I just,” he sighed, pulling his forehead away from yours by raising his head. “What would you–” he cut himself off. “Never mind.”

“No, it’s fine. I want to hear it.” 

“What would you do if you woke up one day and the earth was consumed by darkness? And I mean complete darkness, no sun and no stars.” 

“Holy shit. Did you hang out with the Apollo and Athena cabin?” you held back an amused laugh.

“Just humor me for a second, please.”

“Alright, um..” you looked down, trying to formulate an answer to Luke’s strangely philosophical question. “I guess I wouldn’t mind as long as I could find you. I know I’d be able to find my way to you so I wouldn’t really worry too much.”

And that answer was everything Luke ever needed. 

He spent some more time talking to you, memorizing the way you looked under the lights of the amphitheater in your Camp shirt and necklace. Trying to enjoy it because he will never have this sight again. 

Luke excused himself with an “I have a gift for Percy, but I’ll come back to you. Just give me some time,” before walking all the way to the cabins and taking out the Pit Scorpion he had hidden under his bunk. 

There was no fear in his actions this time. His heart was beating in a steady rhythm and his hands weren't shaking anymore. The weight of Backbiter in its hilt felt perfect against his hip. 

There would be no fear in any of his actions anymore. Because he knows if he keeps you in the shadows you’ll eventually become a dark starless sky just like him.