#no matter what i do or accomplish or how hard i fight or try

[cerise-on-top]

Hi Simon! Hope you are doing well! I was wondering if you if you could do the 141 + a bonus character of your choice with a drag queen S\O?



Hey there! I'm fine, thank you! I only write about 4 characters at a time, though, so no bonus characters!

TF 141 with a Drag Queen S/O

Price: I don’t think he knows much about drag queens, in all honesty. Sure, he may have occasionally seen one or two in a gay bar he used to frequent when he was younger, but he never really gave them much thought again afterwards. Though, he has a lot of respect for them, given how society treats them. They’re not treated that well, after all. When someone was being rude to them, he would fight the asshole since they weren’t hurting anyone. If you tell him that you’re a drag queen as well, he’d get really worried. While he won’t tell you to not dress up like one and live your best life, I think he would ask to accompany you on your outings when he can. He’s seen how people call your kind “pedophiles” and whatnot. It’s truly revolting to him, No, he’d much rather go out with you. It gives him an excuse to be closer to you as well, which I’m sure you don’t particularly mind either. He grows extremely protective over you and won’t hesitate to absolutely demolish anyone, who looks at you the wrong way. Not ashamed at all to be seen with you either. Why would he be? You’re the love of his life, so he’s going to support you in any way he can.

Gaz: Adores watching you put on your makeup. Babe, you look absolutely stunning in this, I bought you some more makeup, would you like to try it on as well? Unlike the others, Gaz actually has a sense of fashion and knows what would look good on you. He has the monetary means to buy you a little something here and there as well. So when he sees a dress that you would look absolutely stunning in? Yeah, he’s buying it for you. Will always, and I mean always, hype you up when it comes to something like this. If you perform then he’ll always ask you when your next performance will be so he can be there to cheer you on. And if anyone ever were to give you shit? They’ll be taken care of before they can even open their unworthy mouth. You are an absolute queen, you are killing it wherever you go. And if some dumb walnut can’t recognize that, then they don’t deserve to be in your presence. Will proudly hold your hand in public and look at you as though he’s just won the septuple jackpot. I don’t think he knows any of the history, though. He may not be straight, but that doesn’t mean he actually knows much of the history behind it all. All he knows is that you kick ass and that’s what he loves about you.

Ghost: I honestly don’t think he’d care all that much about it. You’re you, and he loves and appreciates you, doesn’t matter if you’re a drag queen, a drag king, or something else entirely. He’d let you do your own thing, buy you the occasional makeup or dress since you seem to be in your element when you’re wearing those things. Don’t expect those dresses to always be to your taste, though. He may get a sense for it eventually, but it would take some time. He wouldn’t care too much about it, until you’ve gotten a mean comment about who you are. From then on he’s absolutely fuming. Not at who you are and what you enjoy, but rather at the hater, who can’t seem to appreciate true art when it kicks them in the stomach. From then on he’d take interest in it to make you happy. He’ll learn about the history, your accomplishments and all that stuff. Will sometimes strike up a conversation with you about it as well, just to see you light up and excitedly tell him about it. He does not understand everything, but he tries really hard. You can tell him just about anything and he’d have no choice but to nod along and believe you. But why would you lie about your passions to him in the first place?

Soap: I think he’d genuinely be weirded out by drag queens for the better part of his life. Why are they dressed like that? What are they trying to prove? No, he doesn’t really like men, who are being feminine like that. And then you came along, making his world go upside down. On the one hand, it was weird to him, but on the other hand, he loved and adored you and didn’t want to lose you. Therefore he made an effort to take an interest in it and support you in your little thing. At first that interest was genuinely forced, he wanted nothing to do with it, but eventually, he’d warm up to the idea. I don’t think he’ll ever buy you a dress or some makeup without you being there, though. Soap is absolutely clueless whenever it comes to anything fashion related. He would go along here and there when you would go out all dressed up. I think in the initial phase, he wouldn’t want to be seen with you, but that would change eventually. Like a good boy, he’d do his research and try to find something that sticks with him so he has something to talk about with you. Again, he’d find enjoyment in it eventually, you just gotta give him some time and he will fiercely protect you from assholes and anyone else trying to bring him down. He’s just gotta warm up to the idea first.

[coffeecatcraze]

I would just like to say how hard it hits me in the chest to see Charlie masking every time she's onscreen the day before the fight (including what we see on Vox's spy screens of course), except when no one is with her but Vaggie. Even during her emotional speech she tries so damn hard to keep that confidence up and smile on. But we do see her stop masking twice, when the only person watching her is Vaggie.

First:

No one's really paying attention to her, and she's not smiling; she's worried. When Vaggie approaches her, she doesn't put on a happy face. She talks about her mom with the same smile as in the first episode (during a very emotionally vulnerable moment with Vaggie, might I add). It's not happy or confident. It's nostalgic, wistful, and sad, because her mom's absence is something very personal and painful for her. When Vaggie asks if they're ready, Charlie doesn't instantly start to smile or answer with confidence even though she usually would (even within that short beat of time), because her mask is off. She's not confident or optimistic. She's scared. She's not ready.

Then Pentious comes out and she's all smiles again! The mask comes back on when someone other than Vaggie is there.

Second:

Of course, one of our favorite scenes. Charlie's alone when she breaks down, but when Vaggie shows up, she keeps the mask off. She admits how scared she is. When she does smile, it's not the big smile she's been throwing on throughout the day, and it's not strained either. It's soft, gentle, and real. She's not masking. Vaggie is genuinely making her feel better when she's finally letting herself fall apart, just by being there and reminding her that no matter what happens, she's already accomplished so much, and she's so loved.

Charlie is under a lot of stress and pressure. She's scared. She's not as optimistic as she's making herself out to be. She's giving everything she's got out there being a strong, confident, inspirational leader and friend in front of everyone, and it's only with Vaggie that she lets it go. She doesn't have to try to be strong. She doesn't pretend. She lets down her guard, because for her, Vaggie is that one infinitely special person who gets to see every part of her; the one person she can always be her honest self with.

There were plenty of times in other episodes when Charlie didn't mask her negative emotions around people, but that was when she didn't have anyone looking to her as a leader. She's running on adrenaline and the weight of people's expectations as Extermination Day gets closer, and she can't let the mask she's put on slip in public. She has to seem like she's totally ready for what's coming. But Vaggie is different.

The amount of trust and love Charlie has for her is staggering. She's under an insane amount of stress and pressure, and having Vaggie by her side is probably the only thing keeping her from completely falling to pieces. Seeing a relationship so full of deep trust and love is absolutely beautiful. <3

[bitchimasnake-sss]

"my girlfriend's a nerd" ft. the monster trio!

self explanatory self-indulgent drabbles to soothe my book!loving ass

ft. luffy, zoro and sanji x fem! reader set-up: you like books, he likes you that's it warnings: none lmao this is very sfw. one might call it wholesome even. m.list

luffy:

thats my baby ^^

— im not even sure if this mf can read 😭😭

— honestly 9/10 chance he can't but when has that ever stopped him from being our most supportive himbo king

— go king give us everything!!

— he doesn't get why you read books when instead you can be like sleeping or eating or looking at the sea but well, he doesn't question it

— he just thinks it's a weird hobby you have (i don't think he's aware of how freakishly illiterate he is)

— but just cause he thinks it's weird that doesn't mean he wouldn't hug you half-asleep when he hears you sobbing into the dead of the night or he wouldn't listen with keen interest when you explain the plot of your favourite book as he wraps his arms around you and hums into your hair

— will 100% offer to fight the author/ tear up the book everytime he sees you having a breakdown over a particular scene/character

"who should I kill?!" the deadpan seriousness in his voice is what terrifies you

"nobody! I'm okay–"

— after you explain to him that hurting somebody is not necessary and you're fine, he will try to coddle you with extended hugs and food (lots and lots and lots of food).

"yn you should eat something! should I get you something to eat??" you can hear the panic in this poor boys voice 😭😭

"no luffy, its okay. im fine!" you say through sniffs and snorts, eyes bloodshot from crying over ink on paper

"brb" and he gets you dinner enough for 5 people because that's how he knows to comfort you (willingly took sanjis kicks and namis punches to accomplish this mission)

— since he's a clingy little child, he will hold onto you some way or the other when you're reading

— you're reading in your room while he's fast asleep? his arm is draped across your waist lazily. you're on the other side of the deck, sunbathing and reading? his hand is stretched out from where he's sitting and on your thigh (ussop tripped thrice over his hand, rip god ussop 🙏) . you're reading during breakfast cause the book just got so good? his toe is rubbing your calf up and down periodically (he won't stop no matter how many weird looks you give him)

— conclusion: he doesn't at all get it what it is, but if it makes you happy he will spend all the berries in the world to buy you those books (plz know if you actually ask him to jokingly off an author for killing your favourite character, he will do it. please don't ask him that.)

— he's just so supportive and nice 😭😭

"my girlfriends a nerd, I love her" (ussop explained to him what a nerd was and now he's introducing you like this to everybody)

zoro:

the shades tho 😎

— I'm convinced this mf can't read either

— even he can there's like literally no evidence to prove it and the entire crew has come to the conclusion that he gets lost even with clear directions because he just can't read please 😌👌

— at the start, he actually thinks it's dead stupid to invest so much time reading books when you can do other stuff like getting stronger, sleeping, literally doing anything else (luffy backs up his opinion with full enthusiasm)

— i mean like he's seen you sob at 7 in the morning over breakfast cause your fav character died and now he's confused as to why are you spending money and buying books if they make you cry so hard (he doesn't understand the concept of angst im afraid)

— but over time he just accepts it as something you enjoy and well, if it makes you happy then who is he to question it?

— acts like he doesn't care/isn't listening when you're rambling about the plot and how thE MAIN CHARACTER IS IN LOVE WITH HIS ENEMY AND VICE VERSA SKEJFHSJKSN but is actually fully listening

— he's actually invested at one point

"but they are enemies? why does he wanna be with him?"

"you don't get it! thats the appeal!!"

"the appeal is forcing a knife on somebody's throat?" he's laughing, "as if you'd enjoy it if i threatened you with my swords"

"... i would actually enjoy that"

he is now asking nami for loan to send you to a therapist (nami has seen you nosebleed over fictional characters and is considering giving money away to zoro for free. you really do need help.)

— as I said, he's invested now (although he does question your taste every now and then) but he'd force you to either summarize the plot to him as he trains or read out loud so he can hear the story as it goes.

— so naturally you're now sitting on his back, reading out loud as he does push-ups

— this beloved himbo has now formed strong opinions about characters and will battle you with headcanons because "there's no fucking way the hero would ever go back to the villain after that! that's ridiculous! if he does I'll sell my swords off."

— will remember the stuff you told him, no matter how trivial, so if you get off an island and he spots a keychain from your fav book series he's spending whatever money he has left to buy you it

"oh excellent choice! who are you buying it for?" the shopkeeper lady questions aloud

"oh, my girlfriend." he's smiling, "my girlfriends a nerd."

— actually looks forward to you telling him all the plot details and jokes at this point (one might call him a part of the fandom now)

— when you're a crying, sobbing mess because a character died, he's genuinely comforting you (no matter how bad he is at it)

"yn it's okay, you want some sake?" he is hugging you, patting your head like you're a child

"no 😭😭" you sob harder into his chest

"well... that's the best i can offer"

he tried. it's not his fault you don't wanna drink your feelings away.

— conclusion: he started off thinking its stupid and now he's an honorary nerd. would never admit it though. stubborn asshole.

sanji:

he's actually so pretty tho ^^

— he actually liked reading books before you even joined the crew although his tbr consists of cookbooks and auto-biographies about the people he has some interest in

— he started reading so that he could impress zeff with his knowledge on cooking and other miscellaneous stuff (imagine kid!sanji reading a book till late night under a lamp cause he wants to impress his old man that's so cute 😭😭)

— respects your hobbies when he finds out you like reading

— and then he sees your book collection. whY ARE THERE LIKE 5000 BOOKS HERE?! NOW HES SCARED FOR YOUR SANITY CAUSE GIRL WTF

— he hears you recommend a book to robin/nami once and now he's running to the nearest bookstore on the next island you guys land on to buy it

— he obviously did it to impress you and win you over but goddamn that book was actually pretty nice. so, the next time he asks you for recommendations he's actually a bit sincere

— now you're both in a book club of your own (which makes luffy mad cause why are you leaving him out of conversations :/)

— like zoro, he often asks for updates on the book you're currently reading while he cooks everyone food. he loves hearing you talk about the things you like.

— when he sees you crying over books, he is making you sweet stuff to soothe you, holding you and rubbing your back supportingly, peppering kisses to make you feel better

— he's so fine 😫😫

— anyways, also def the kind of person to ask you to roleplay things in real life

"yn-saaaan" his voice is bubbly, "can i ask you something?"

"mhm?"

"the last book you read–" his face is going a little bit red, "you think we can maybe... do that irl?"

now it's your turn to go red

— but no fr, he's so so supportive of your little hobby like yes baby! read those books and have fun imagining people in your head

— 100% matches your vibe when you crush on fictional characters cause "you're right. he is actually very attractive" (a bi king we love)

— once zoro made fun of you for reading and this was his response: "you can't even read, mosshead. the next time you speak shit I'll kick your ass."

"who said I CANT READ? AND AS IF ILL LET YOU KICK MY ASS!"

"I TOTALLY WILL KICK YOUR ASS"

now they are fighting while ussop, luffy and chopper laugh in the background

— but yes he loves staying up late, reading with you before you both cuddle and fall asleep

— you once read about a specific sort of dish in a book and mentioned that it sounds delicious so now obviously he has to go make that dish. it doesn't matter if it's 1 am at night.

— when nami asks him what he's cooking, he just smiles and shrugs, "i dunno either, im just trying to make yn happy. she's such a nerd"

— conclusion: an enabler, an enthusiast. this man is ready to buy you books and then read them if it makes you happy. only the finest for his favourite lady <3

a/n: enjoy my wayward thoughts about these fine men! m.list

[targaryenluvs]

— CHARITY

pairing: dark!president!coriolanus snow x fem!wife!reader

summary: president snow was praised for his love and devotion to his wife, a cripple. if only they knew how you’d ended up that way.

warnings: violence, basically torture, unhinged coryo, obsession, forced marriage, short fic

a/n: based on this request, this is actually insane

what an angel he is.

the capitol viewed your dear husband as nothing short of a saint. an amazing president, an even better husband. of course they all knew about you, his dear wife, the one who swept him off his feet.

the start of your marriage was torture enough for you, having been forced into it by your parents. all they could talk about was what a sweet man coriolanus was. how accomplished he was. it didn’t matter what he’d been in the past, he had built himself up again and he was undeniably coveted by many. you should be thanking him for choosing you.

yet you couldn’t help but feel annoyed.

you’d already told him you weren’t interested. you weren’t charmed by the copious amounts of gifts he’d sent your way. the poetry books that you were sure you’d never talked about to anyone else, only written of in your journals and read at home. the pretty dresses and jewellery but the only gift you’d accept of coriolanus’s was his absence from your life.

and he couldn’t handle it so he went over your head and enticed your parents.

you hated him with your whole soul and every bone in your body whilst he worshipped you. “you look gorgeous, fit to be my wife.” you stood in front of him, hand in hand, wedding dress donned and ready to marry.

you wanted to punch him in the face yet you held your breath, and smiled at him as well as the guests, of which you knew only a few. he kept you restricted, as if on lockdown in your own home. he was like a leech, feeding in your happiness and you’d been sucked dry. coriolanus was the worst possible thing that could’ve happened to you and you wouldn’t let him win.

so you ran.

you’d made it about a few steps down the street before his sleek black car pulled up, his driver walking around to you whilst you backed up, all the way against the tall, black bars of your home. prison.

“did you think you’d get far? that i’d let you? you are my wife, my responsibility, you are here for me. i was trying so hard to give you space, to let you adjust and you took advantage of my generosity.” his words were filled with spite, each word piercing your skin.

he was truly insane.

“generosity? generosity? you forced me into a marriage and expect me to kneel down and kiss your feet for this? for me to not fight back? i have never loved you nor will i coriolanus.” you were a cornered animal, only being able to lash out, bad mistake. the sun reflected off of the crowbar in his hand, twirled between his hands as he stepped out of the car, you were shrinking into yourself whilst he grew taller.

a selfish man stealing the oxygen you needed, the freedom, and now, your abilities.

“how many times must i correct you, it’s coryo darling.”

the unspeakable pain broke your heart, your throat raw from the shrieking and screaming. eyes stinging at the touch of a hand, puffy and sore. blood drawn from your lips tasted metallic and odd, yelling seemed to do nothing so you resorted to biting down on anything.

he’d shattered your legs.

you’d never walk again.

you’d have to rely on him.

you were confined to a wheel chair for your life.

he now controlled where you went.

you’d never be able to move on your own.

in your desperation to escape you’d overlooked and underestimated coriolanus’s obsession for you. he knew the second you’d stepped out of the home, either he was waiting for it or was always ready to come home. whether it was a trap or just bad luck, you were stuck.

most of panem viewed your husband to be an absolute angel, he could have remarried, he could have turned you away yet he stuck by your side, ever the supportive partner. how lucky you were! the rest of them saw you as a chore, someone undeserving, unable to provide for your family. he was a nice man.

you were just charity.

[ma1dita]

forever falling: luke castellan & his four great loves

a 'partners in crime' installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

words: 4.3k

summary: (post-TLT) The one where he falls from grace and still thinks of you. (the four great loves of Luke Castellan’s life and how it will end up killing him) (Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader)

a/n: i held myself hostage in my car outside the gym until i got this right this morning — listened to forwards, beckon, rebound by adrienne lenker while writing this, thank you for your patience and happy september!

edited, doing taglist when i get back from the gym lmao

—

Falling to his death is taking a lot longer than Luke Castellan thought it would.

For a man with a multitude of regrets, he finds that he can count his biggest ones off the four bloodied fingers that stain his peripherals with every bump and tumble down the jagged rocks of Mount Tamalpais.

What a waste of a life.

Everything he’s ever tried to accomplish has come to this final, humiliating moment of being at someone else’s mercy. Life is so unfair, he thinks, to give everything for love and have it kick you off the side of a fucking mountain that reeks of eucalyptus and regret. Sure, it was wrong to steal the master bolt, to turn his back on camp, poison Thalia’s tree, have his little sister hold up the sky, try to kill Percy Jackson every so often, and cause all this chaos… (I mean you know how this goes) but the pros outweigh the cons here! Promise.

Luke was so sure that they would all see reason—that he was doing this all out of love, no matter how convoluted and backwards his way is compared to theirs, even if he’d never admit that. Change is supposed to be uncomfortable and war was never meant to be pretty. It wasn’t supposed to end like this, really. The gods weren’t meant to win.

But at the end of it all, love must be his greatest weakness. It has to be.

The Fates should be slicing through the fibers of his lifespan by now, ripping through the embroidered memories in his mind. Nothing of his is his own anymore—not his life, nor his love.

Love, if he’s learned anything in the two wretched decades that Hermes himself has cursed his existence with— hurts like a motherfucker. That, or Thalia was definitely wearing steel-toed boots when she kicked his ass off the cliff. He’s given his life for love, dedicating himself to the greater good of protecting his loved ones, and no one, not even the gods could stand in the way of that. A method to his madness or his undeniable naivety, he still can’t tell, but it's gotten him falling deep into an abyss at the hands of a bunch of kids who continually undo his plans to change the world.

Maybe love is little deaths then, and maybe Luke Castellan loves too hard.

There has never been a single moment in his life where he hasn’t gone down fighting—he never lets anything go, holding what’s important to him so close to his chest that it suffocates. Luke believes that after everything he’s been through, he was never meant for mediocrity—not even when it comes to love. Maybe his death would mean something then— maybe that is his glory. To love someone to death, even if it was wrong— if this is his end, maybe his death will bring peace he knows his love never could.

Four names run through his mind like most things do, intense and fleeting. His final thoughts as he plunges toward the earth are his last act of prayer. If the gods have never listened before, well, these thoughts are all he has to comfort him; they feel heavy behind his lips the further he falls.

Could the Fates be wrong?

His fatal flaw manifests itself into the names of four women he knows he could never deserve in this lifetime, but he’d die trying. He is, dying. This fall from grace is proof enough that he was never meant to be a hero. Excessive wrath bleeds from his being until all that’s left is love, and he’s ashamed of it.

Gods, he’s such a fucking loser.

Luke’s neck cracks against stone at the bottom of the cliff, white hot pain crawling up his spine with only one remaining thought clanging around in his brain—he should’ve never fucking come back to San Francisco.

And while we’re talking about regrets—Luke recognizes that the one thing he’s never had control of is love.

So he lets go, feeling the weight of his body crumple against the downhill slope of Mount Tamalpais like a puppet cut from its strings without a single cry of pain because Luke Castellan finally comes to accept the loves and losses of his life. His landing feels softer now, rolling to a stop like the waves on Westport Beach. Then he sinks into the earth with a bated sigh and it feels like gentle hands of loves that once believed in him.

Luke closes his eyes before his world spirals into black—because if these few moments are all he has left, he’d like to take this time to remember them.

MAY CASTELLAN [storgē - στοργή]

Luke Castellan was born into this world half-mortal, half-god, but 100% May Castellan’s son. From the moment he came into this world, he was fully her own. Hermes was a factor, yes—but the manifestation of a demigod is wholly that of the mortal parent in every aspect visible to the naked eye. Blood runs alongside ichor in his veins, but Luke is all hers in every way that matters—from the slope of his nose, his dark velvet curls, and the honey-molten warmth of his eyes. And they were happy together, once upon a time, even if it was mostly just the two of them.

The gods make their half-mortal children in the likeness and image of their human love since their own forms are ever changing. There is nothing permanent about being immortal—leaving their partners with babies that look like them but are vulnerable to the Mist. And when you love a god, the only tangible reminder left behind is one that goes where you cannot follow. Things most can’t understand— speedy baby steps padding down the hall, tiny hands unlocking the pantry door, and a motor mouth able to transmit meaning through toddler gibberish.

But before Luke even knew what love was, his mother made sure he knew hers was stuck to his being—like peanut butter and jelly on the roof of his mouth from all the sandwiches she made. His clothes used to smell like chamomile from her morning brew and his fingers were often stained blue from Kool-Aid powder. May would always let him mix, even if she had to pretend to not see him sipping from the big spoon in the pitcher. Loving a trickster meant she knew how to raise one.

His mother’s love was sugar sweet. It was in the cookies she baked, the kisses she’d press against his broken skin, and in the confectionery words she’d whisper to him before bedtime. As the years passed by, May would end up repeating herself and the ‘i love yous’ were more for her instead of him—like a mantra she needed to remind herself of who she was. But Luke always understood. When her voice would fail and tears would replace it, Luke learned to wipe away what his father left behind for him to take care of.

His identical chocolate irises watched hers turn to emerald, and it was then he knew that too much sugar could make everything rot.

THALIA GRACE [eros-ἔρως]

There was always this intensity whenever he was with Thalia Grace, the daughter of Zeus. And she made sure he always knew it—a static spark igniting between the two of them as soon as their eyes met in the streets of Charleston. Like him, Thalia always made sure to get what she wanted, two north poles of a magnet bullheading through life to get what they’re owed. By that same evening, they were elbow-deep in the golden dust of a dragon that had come home to find two bushy-browed little freaks with arrogance quadruple their size.

Luke and Thalia were a match made in hell—one always trying to outdo the other to get the upper hand when it comes to control. And at 12 years old, it was the first time Luke had ever had anyone fight by his side. But they were both short fuses and she always set him alight—a glint of her father rushing through her glare so hot that it burned blue. He would do anything to keep her attention on him since grabbing devotion by force is all he’s ever known. Moving quickly and being in her face was the only way to remind his mother of her affection so he assumed the same would go with her. That, and he couldn’t help being extra fidgety— being a son of Hermes meant he couldn’t sit still for long.

Though with Thalia’s growing annoyance of Luke, it was established that their dependence on each other was one of necessity to survive the odds stacked against them. She was repelled by what made them so similar, hubris that blinded them from wanting to figure out the difference between surviving and living. There was a poison of hate in their love for one another. A shame in wanting a love that understood the attraction that linked them so early on in life, however innocent.

Both were too alike and were burned the same.

They burned each other. A type of selflessness and selfishness that battled each other for balance, so close but so far away.

There was always something about Thalia that blistered at his confidence. A forbidden part of her he couldn’t bear. It’s why he spit words of acid instead of encouragement once he realized the Furies wanted her the most when they were running for their lives, Luke was always the fastest runner anyway—dragging little Annabeth up Half-Blood Hill and by the time he realized he’d left her for dead she became a hero (he admits now that he could’ve run circles and saved her too; he just didn’t want to).

Thalia Grace gave everything for this love. But she sure as hell never trusted him to do the same for her.

The spark they shared was snuffed out that day. And Luke continued to burn without her.

ANNABETH CHASE [philia- ϕιλία]

Luke Castellan had never been chosen for anything before. Growing up in the mortal world, he was used to watching families eat together through restaurant windows and children playing in parks that he would pass by, taking slower turns around the block so he could imagine what it felt like to be wanted. Luke was never once beckoned to take part, but he accepted long ago that he didn’t really belong anywhere.

It was nice to think about though.

The daughter of Athena doesn’t remember it anymore, something so trivial in that big brain of much more important thoughts—but when she reached her hand out to him instead of Thalia (after almost breaking his skull in with a rusty hammer), it meant everything to him. The kid thought he was a monster at first sight, and she still chose him after everything.

Annabeth Chase grew up idolizing him and he thrived because of it.

Like ambrosia, Luke was strengthened by her faith and it made him feel powerful. Having the daughter of Athena in his life was like being awarded a gold medal. He loved Annabeth like she was his biggest prize, gleaming on a shelf for him to admire when he was feeling down about himself. Both him and Thalia raised her with pride; with little to no material possessions, they learned to make something out of nothing—and they made it golden. He chased that feeling and it made him greedy for her affection—she announced his place in this world of cruelty. The harsh hands of fate were gilded by Midas himself as long as he had Annabeth. And she put him on a pedestal too—an unattainable goal in her mind that the highest form of glory was to be like her older brother and best friend.

Luke Castellan was finally good at something, and he had the proof to show for it in the shape of a small girl with inquisitive eyes. With her, all of his answers were right. To choose each other and be reciprocated with equal fervor helped him idealize what it felt like to win in life.

However Annabeth was not just his best student, but a prodigy that learned to outplay the trickster. An intellect like hers was never meant to corrode in a dusty, dark corner.

YOU [agape- ἀγάπη]

Plato wrote that humans were once created whole— with four arms, four legs, and two faces fused back-to-back for the entirety of their mortal existence. They were at peace, and how could you not be?

With your soulmate at your side, you could face anything, even the gods. And eventually Zeus felt threatened by their power, in knowing that humans could be invincible against any pain, suffering, and doubt as long as their soul was physically and intimately tied with their other half. So he separated humans from their soulmates in a snap of a finger. It was just another thing that jealousy would take away from humankind by immortal beings that would never understand what it means to live with an ending.

There’s a misconception that love is being together in our original state until the gods took it away. But in fact, it was written to be that love is the desire to become whole with someone else, in addition to yourself. Love is the choice to spend your life trying to find your other half—as we are destined to roam until we have someone to share the rest of our time. Humans have long accepted that we don’t know when the end will come—but the act of searching for our person to share it with, that is love.

Love is the ultimate sacrifice to meet your partner wherever they’re at, to make a home out of the rubble of your past and still choose it anyway knowing that the both of you will go hand in hand into the future. It isn’t glory like he’d convinced himself in the past; it’s not accomplishing some heroic feat worth the recognition of the gods—he knows by now that he couldn’t give a single shit about them. The answer had always been right in front of him, unwavering against the test of time with fluttering amethyst eyes and laughter that renders him senseless.

Why go through all that trouble? one might ask. But that is also his answer.

Fate had never cut him loose— tumbling down Mount Tamalpais was one of the many proofs of that, and with nothing else to do, Luke comes to the conclusion that loving you is a lifelong commitment he made to make more time with you.

Shitty deal, he thinks, trying to beat Kronos at his own domain without anyone’s help must have been a waste for it all to end so pathetically.

But loving you was a choice he made every day, even in your absence. It’s his reminder and solemn vow that loving you could never be a waste. Luke laments not being able to take you to meet his mother, or giving you the white house with the big bay windows, but by giving up his life, honor, and whatever glory is still attached to the name Luke Castellan— it must be worth it as long as you’re living the life you deserve.

Even if it means he’s not part of it, he hopes you’re still searching for him too.

—

In the end, even as he falls to his death, he finds himself calling out to his father for the last time. His plea reaches deaf ears of course—but he isn’t begging anymore. Luke Castellan thanks his father for the first and last time in his life and embraces his losses if it meant that he mattered. If not to the gods, then to his mother. To Annabeth. Thalia, even for a short moment, and you.

Especially to you.

Unwavering and without question, to live to the fullest is to have been by your side walking through the woods of Camp Half-Blood and hearing the sound of your cackles through the air, sending animals scattering from something he said.

Because to be loved despite everything he has done, everything he will do— Luke thinks he must be the luckiest man to have ever lived.

Death blankets the weary traveler, and time is an unflinching hand pulling him through a rip in reality. He’s gone in the blink of an eye, falling in reverse to where he needs to be next.

Somewhere, Atropos raises her scissors away from the indelible strand of his life force as she takes a breath and sits back, her sisters unable to do anything else but watch. This boy was becoming more trouble than what even the gods knew he was worth.

Luke Castellan must be lucky, indeed.

—-

Ding.

450, 451, 452, 453…

A wet cough from a satyr next to you disrupts the silence in the elevator up to Olympus; you give him a sideways glance that makes him shift closer to the door with what you hope is a blush and not a fever. It’s warm and stuffy in this 3x4 crystalline box that shoots towards the heavens, and a bit crowded for a weeknight—though you suppose it is the Winter Solstice.

You haven’t been back here since your ex-boyfriend stole the master bolt.

There’s a moment where you wonder if the Fates have ever found your predicament funny, but then the satyr sneezes with a boom.

537, 538, 539, 540…

It’s almost dusk now as clouds roll through the night sky and into the distance. Frost lines the metal frame of the elevator shaft and if you’re flying at the speed of light, it doesn’t seem to be a problem. But this trip is taking much longer than you thought it would for a decision you made on a whim.

You still have a final to take in the morning, and Annabeth wasn’t answering your calls—then her location on Find My iPhone sprung from San Francisco to the middle of Manhattan from the span of your trip on the Long Island Railroad.

Something was up. The sense of something important trickled down your spine like second nature. Can’t this thing go any faster?

It was second nature for you by now to know when something was up, especially with the trio. You’d always make the time for them. Besides, your life has been a little too quiet lately. Being an adult demigod does that; there’s no monsters that bump in the night anymore, just the ones in your head and the ones that make you take finals three days before Christmas.

…600.

Ding.

Weaving through what seems to be a celebration fit for the gods, your glove-clad hands push through the sea of minor godlings, heroes, and Olympians. Aphrodite sends you a wink that makes you feel hot to the touch before you realize Hestia’s eyes are also on you, the both of them clearly whispering about your treacherous love life. You shove your gloves and scarf into your jacket pocket. Bowing your head lightly in greeting, you keep walking further into the grand hall.

It seemed you were always a hot topic up here on Olympus. Great.

The music is so loud you can feel it in your chest, thumping away to the accelerated beat of your heart and by the time you grab a glass of ambrosia-spiked champagne to help with the lump in your throat, you hear the sound of your name in the midst of all the chaos.

A gentle hand grasps your shoulder then, and it’s Percy Jackson adorning a cup of punch and brand new wispy white tendrils that hang across his face. There’s a story that should follow, but he gapes at you like a fish out of water. Looking up at him (this boy grows like a weed!), both of your confused faces mirror each other as you sidle out words he’s still able to hear over the music, “What’s the celebration for? And why have none of you been answering my calls?”

The son of Poseidon swallows hard, until the smell of salt and sea foam surrounds you and you find yourself staring at the god of the sea himself, standing alongside him. With a smile soft like rippling water, he gently says, “I’ll leave you two to it. And I’ll call your father and stepmother over. Good to see you,” Poseidon says your name as he takes his exit. You hoped it was a good thing then, that he knew you.

Percy wondered why he was always left to make the difficult decisions.

He almost sounds like his father when he speaks, calling for your attention again as he clears his throat.

“Listen, I need to tell you something, and I think we should…”

Shaking your head, your eyes are scanning across the room, meeting Annabeth’s as she drops the hand of the minor god she’s dancing with and makes her way over to you. From the other side of the room, Poseidon pushes your father in your direction as he juggles two golden goblets in each hand, led by his wife as they almost float towards you.

“Whatever it is, spit it out Perce. Your audience is growing by the minute.”

“Hey princess, whatcha doing here? Don’t you have a test tomorrow?” You dad grins, nudging your shoulder and handing you one of the goblets. Ariadne presses a kiss against your temple and you smile, taking a sip before hearing Annabeth’s converse squeak to a stop next to you.

“Someone better tell me what’s going on right now,” your eye twitches and then you see Annabeth’s new strands of silver that frame her face as she grabs your arm and nestles against it.

“I…um…” the sandy-haired boy begins, and then your dad groans and you elbow him hard, wine spilling from his lips as his wife giggles like the sound of tinkling bells and you’re about to strangle the teenager on the marble tile he’s planted on.

“Luke’s…”

“Dead.”

Percy’s worried voice intermingles with a new one you haven’t heard before, like a crackling sound that leaves a metallic taste in your mouth, and then a girl shows her face—black eyeliner and silver jewelry clinking against each other as she looks into your eyes and blue meets purple.

So you start laughing. Cackling even, as your head nods slightly, and after they’ve given you a moment to compose yourself you take a big gulp of the drink in your right hand to then chase it with the one on your left.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me. He’s not dead,” you insist, and everyone looks at you like you’re insane, even your father, the god of insanity himself. Ariadne’s hand caresses the nape of your neck as she whispers, “Maybe we should take a seat outside, darling…”

“No…No! I mean it,” you say almost incredulously, a hiccup slipping past your lips when you take in too much air. “That motherfucker doesn’t have the audacity to die and if he did, I would know.”

“This is how we’re letting you know,” Annie murmurs, before Percy sighs and his shoulders fall heavy with what seems to be the weight of the world, “She’s right. He’s not dead.”

A myriad of responses blur in the space around you, all going hazy as you blink and stay focused on Percy.

“It’d be too easy…” you murmur, nodding again like you’re convincing yourself of the fact. Annabeth rubs circles into your forearm and you realize you haven’t breathed since the daughter of Zeus made her entrance, “I’d know if he was dead.”

Thalia Grace looks you up and down thoughtfully, “So you’re the collateral damage.”

“Thalia!”

Annabeth exclaims, her hand tightening around yours and you know deep down she’s rejoicing at the news of Luke’s survival. But for yourself, you were unsure if you felt the same, almost chuckling at the irony of almost all of Luke’s favorite people in the same room as the gods he swore to overthrow, “That’s me. You were a tree the last time I saw you.”

“That’s me. I kicked him off a cliff, thought it would’ve done the job, but he’s always been too stubborn.”

A smile spreads across both your faces. You think about Luke interrupting your date last month by barging into your apartment and how that was tough enough to explain to your roommate, much less if you tried to tell your parents and best friends in the middle of a Christmas party.

You make the choice to keep Luke’s visits a secret. It doesn’t come as difficult as you thought it would.

Hermes bumps into your little group, eyes focused on his caduceus as it pings with different messages. The rest of you go quiet, mirth dimming despite the smile on the messenger god’s face and the kids take that as their cue to exit.

“What’s happening? A group like this, and with you making an appearance,” he nods in your direction, “Must be something special.” He nudges your dad, and you’ve forgotten that they’ve been best friends for millenia.

“Your kid’s not dead. You’d know that if you were nosy in the right places,” Dionysus says through a gulp of wine, turning and walking away nonchalantly, making you smile. Hermes looks at you with his face a mix of shock and appreciation, though you’ve done nothing to earn it. He follows your father with a gust of wind billowing behind his traveling feet.

Those two are more trouble than you and Luke were.

Biting your cheek, you turn to Ariadne and scoff, “So…. Do you think I should tell my dad that the other campers snuck into the party half an hour ago?”

Your stepmother laughs, her eyes following her love across the ballroom, choosing to let everyone enjoy the Winter Solstice for once.

—

“When does a war end? When can I say your name and have it mean only your name and not what you left behind?” - Ocean Vuong

[maxlarens]

Childhood friends to lovers Max???? you always being there for all his accomplishments so when you can't because you've got your own thing he's a little lost??? max always being judgmental about the guys you try to date?? the whole entire grid down to mechanics on other teams all seeing that he's utterly in love with you while he's just 😐 "yes this is my friend"???

But also love the depth of it like OOOOO you'd hate J*s with a burning passion for how he treated the love of your life your bestie however your love and respect for Max has you helping him set boundaries so his father doesn't continue ruining his life?? And J*s would have sneered at his son having a "girl friend" (I always go off reader being fem my apologies for assuming) and probably definitely at least hinted at treating you the same way if you were with max at a racing weekend (the gas station story?? ugh) BUT I see that being the only time Max stands up to him when he's a kid/teen because fine yeah treat me however you want but I'll fight to the death if you hurt her

lemme stop before I write a whole novel in your inbox 😭😭😭

viv!!!! omg going to address this in several sections:

yeah just utterly lost when you’ve got your first important work thing/etc that you cant take time off for. is like how am i supposed to celebrate without her? is totally off during interviews and a bit muted during celebrations. because he’s just a teenager celebrating something without his best friend in the entire world yknow🥺

literally everyone can tell they’re attached at the hip!!!!!! pls and he’s always saying well i don’t think they’re good enough for you about her bfs/dates. even complains about it to people. as teenagers do when they have a crush. and if anyone tries to subtly point it out yeah he just goes um? we’re friends?😐

and hating j*s!!! so real!!! just quietly seething and unable to do anything other than be so angry and gently tell max he deserves better. like she tries to encourage his relationship with his mum and sister more. tries to offer other points of view when j*s gets in his head. tries to comfort him even when it’s hard even when max doesn’t make it easy. because she knows there’s a way through it.

and of course j*s hates her. 1) she’s a distraction from karting. from spending all day and everyday on track. 2) shes a girl! a gender that j*s clearly has no respect for! only puts up with her for the sake of an easy relationship with his colleague. 3) she’s clearly pushing max to set boundaries with him. and stand up for himself😐

his open disdain of her probably reaches it’s highest point in max’s first few seasons in my opinion. when j*s’s grip on max is slipping. when he’s starting to listen to her more about boundaries and taking care of himself/his mental health. when he’s independent and starts to gravitate to her more and more. and he absolutely says something vile to her. and max absolutely stands up for her. is not going to let his dad treat the one person who supports him no matter what like that.

[mishietishie]

Papamin Headcanons

T/W: Fluff, bad grammar, pregancy mention, kinda short, gender of the baby not specified, girldad Nanami mention

This is kind of a continuation of my Nanami dating headcanons

Okay so ever since he heard that you're pregnant with his child, he has been over the moon ever since! He's always dreamed of having a little family with you and that dream is becoming a reality!!

Boy or girl? Doesn't matter to him, he'll cherish the baby no matter what!! (girldad Papamin would go SO HARD THOUGH!!! His little princess who's got him wrapped around her little chubby finger❤️)

He'd be so weak for the baby UAAGHHHH!!! Buying them the CUTEST onesies and clothes to take pictures of them with, buying them toys and stuffed animals like crazy! He'd get them everything their little heart desires if you didn't stop him :(((

He's been trying his hardest to save up enough money to retire early so you guys can move to Maleysia with your little family :(((

He definetly carries a picture of you and your children in his wallet, his protecting talisman!

If your child ever turns out to be a jujutsu sorcerer like you both, he will never allow them to attend Jujutsu Tech for their own safety

He wants atleast two children, but he'd never force you to!

Whenever it's cold outside, he makes sure your child is extra warm dressed with a cute scarf, mittens and a cute beanie or earmuffs to keep their little ears warm!

If you don't have time to go to parent teacher conferences, he'll gladly go to see how well his little one is doing in school! They're smart like papa after all

(when your child's first word wasn't 'papa', he was sulking about it for a couple of days)

He insisted onto making a picture book with all of your child's accomplishments, no matter how 'little' they are! First time crawling? Into the picture book! First time eating icecream? Into the picture book! (he has a digital copy of the picture book that he looks at whenever he is on a mission so he can always remember why he is fighting. To come back home to his little family 🥰)

When your child becomes a toddler and can have sorta decent conversations, he'll sometimes sneak in a little dad joke

"Papa? Papa, I'm hungry!"

"You're hungry? I thought you were (C/N)?" (child's name. Also, dad jokes have my heart, could you tell?)

Sometimes when Nanami makes a certain expression and your child's in the same room as him, they'll copy his facial expression 100% (AND YOU CANNOT TELL ME OTHERWISE!!!)

Thank you for reading till the end!~

-Misha

Back to Nanami's Master List?

Back to the JJK Master List?

[tikosblogg]

The Scars We Bare….❤️

Summary: After a traumatic accident leaving your body scarred for life, Noah makes it his mission to remind you of your worth.

Warning: piv sex, unprotected sex(don’t do that), slight choking. Body worship?, mentions of blood, fighting. Let me know if I forgot anything.

A/N: This is a little heavier than I usually write about, but I thought it was so sweet. I’m sorry if it’s trash, I wrote this while watching Summer slam🤪

The energy inside our house was insane, the house pulsing with the music and the laughter of friends. the ambiance was alive—a perfect backdrop to celebrate the end of their successful tour. I had always been the glue that held this ragtag bunch together. Growing up alongside Noah, and the guys meant our lives were intertwined in a way that made this party feel like a reunion of sorts, no matter how long we’ve lived together or how often we saw each other while they are on the road.

As I mingled among partygoers, I felt an undeniable sense of pride for these guys who had worked so hard, now basking in the glow of their accomplishments. But tonight wasn’t just about them; it was about me too. I had hopes of taking my relationship with Brent to the next level.

Brent is the first relationship I’ve had since my accident 4 years ago. We have been seeing one another for about a month, and in my gut, I felt tonight could be the night we solidified what we both wanted. Nobody has seen my body since that traumatic day, except for Noah. My family lives out of state, so as soon as I was released from the hospital Noah moved me in here.

He was my rock during the whole ordeal and helped me heal. Our friendship is a special one, that I hold dearly in my heart. He bathed me, cooked for me, cleaned the cuts and incisions on my body everyday. He was the shoulder I cried on, about my insecurities of my forever changed body. Always reminding me that I was beautiful. He has helped more than I think he realizes.

Excusing myself from a lively conversation with Noah and Jolly, I slipped outside to check on Brent. The cool air hit my skin, refreshing yet a little uneasy. I dialed his number, only to be met with an annoyance I couldn’t quite place. "I've been here for the past 45 minutes," he huffed, the edge in his voice making me flinch.

My stomach twisted as he gave me his location. I ended the call, worry gnawing at the edges of my mind. What had gone wrong? He’s never sounded so annoyed with me. I shook it off and decided to find him, determined not to let it ruin our night.

When I finally spotted him, leaning against the wall of the house with his arms crossed and an unimpressed look on his face, my heart sank. Why did he look so displeased? I swept in for a hug, wrapping my arms around his body, hoping to draw out a little warmth. He hesitated for just a moment before returning the embrace, but the spark I had anticipated was absent.

"Hey! Glad you made it," I chirped, forcing a smile even as a twinge of frustration bubbled within me. He didn't reply, only allowed me to grab his hand and lead him inside.

As we entered, I could feel the vibrant energy shift slightly. The laughter and chatter continued, but the warmth of the party felt overshadowed by the tension emanating from Brent. I introduced him to the guys Noah, Jolly, Folio, and Nick—all of whom were mingling and laughing, filling the air with their unique energy. However, I noticed something peculiar: the way the guys eyed Brent, especially Noah. There was a hint of concern in his gaze, the kind that screamed, I’m onto you.

Ignoring the unspoken judgment from my friends, I pulled Brent closer, trying to ignite that spark between us. We stood there, surrounded by music and laughter, yet he seemed distant, his smile faltering as the guys began to chatter amongst themselves.

“Everything alright?” I whispered, leaning closer to him. I wanted an opening, a doorway into whatever was bothering him. But he merely shrugged, his gaze wandering, refusing to engage. I softly grasped Brent’s hand, politely excusing us from the group. I led him through the crowd of party goers, and up the stairs to my room.

As I closed the door behind us, the thumping bass of the party dwindled into a distant murmur, the laughter of friends fading away as I turned to Brent. The vibrant energy of the gathering felt worlds away, and the four walls of my bedroom suddenly wrapped around us like a protective barrier.

“Brent,” I started, my voice wavering slightly. “I’m really sorry if I overwhelmed you back there. I just wanted you to meet my friends. They’re like family to me.” I stepped closer, finding comfort in the small space between us. “I like how you’re different from everyone else,” I reassured him, reaching to cup his face. “I want you with me, Brent. I really like you, and I was hoping tonight could be something more.”

At last, he looked up, a smirk playing on his lips as he wasted no more time, and leaned in and captured my mouth with his. The kiss ignited something deep inside me; I melted into him, the world beyond my bedroom eclipsed in a frenzy of sensation. But then, as he pushed me down onto the bed, his body pressing into mine, I felt a rush of vulnerability sweep over me.

His lips were a warm trail, moving from my mouth and down the length of my neck. Nervousness coiled in my stomach, mingling with the thrill of it all. What if he hates the scars? But I shushed that voice; if Brent liked me, he would accept all of me, flaws and histories included.

When he finally pulled away, his eyes dark with desire, he removed his shirt, revealing his toned body. I felt my pulse quicken. The intimacy of the moment escalated as he reached for mine. But then, as the fabric glided off my skin, a sudden silence enveloped us. Brent froze, his expression shifting from desire to something unreadable as his eyes traced the long scar running down my chest, then mapping the smaller scars scattered along my ribs and stomach.

“Are you okay?” I paused, my heart pounding painfully against my rib cage as I reached up, uncertain and vulnerable.

The moment hung heavy in the air; he shook his head vehemently, climbing off me so quickly that the sudden loss of his warmth sent a chill racing down my spine. I sat up, confusion flooding my senses. “What’s wrong? Did I do something?”

Brent stood there, the remnants of our intimacy dissolving between us. He tugged his shirt back on, the fabric crumpling around his torso, and ran a hand through his hair, the gesture laced with frustration. “Why do you have scars all over you?” His voice was low, a mix of concern and discomfort.

As the words spilled from my lips, the weight of the memory resurfaced. “I was in a bad car crash four years ago. I had to have open heart surgery,” I explained, trying to keep my tone steady. I watched the color drain from his face, his brows knitting together in discomfort.

A long sigh escaped him, heavy and laden with an emotion I couldn’t quite decipher. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. “But that’s...bad. I didn’t expect…” He trailed off, shaking his head again as if trying to clear it.

“It makes me feel… kind of squeamish to touch them” he admitted, his eyes glancing away, avoiding the testament of my past etched upon my skin.

My heart plummeted, the weight of rejection crashing down upon me like a tidal wave. I had let the hope and excitement build, only for it to crumble in an instant under the realization that my trauma had repelled him.

“I think we should just end it here. sorry,” he added, almost mechanically, before turning to leave the room. The sound of the party resumed its vibrancy, a stark reminder of the dissonance between our worlds.

I watched him walk out, feeling an emptiness settle into my chest. The door slammed behind him, and I sank back into the bed, wrapping my arms around myself as if trying to shield those scars from the world. Noah, My friends, my family—they had embraced me, scars and all. Why couldn’t Brent?

I lay there, staring at the ceiling, feeling the weight of his words pressing down on me. My thoughts spiraled, wondering if my scars were always going to be a barrier, a reminder of a past I couldn’t erase. The party continued downstairs, but all I felt was the silence of my room enveloping me, a somber echo of what had just transpired.

I finally stood from my bed, my body shaking with each sob leaving my mouth. I walked straight into my bathroom, insistent on washing his touch, and this night from my tattered body.

Noah stood with Jolly and Nick, their voices a distant murmur, but his attention had drifted. His eyes were locked on the staircase that you’d just walked up with Brent. There was something about Brent—a way he carried himself, a cocky swagger that made his skin crawl. He didn’t like the guy, not one bit.

Fifteen minutes later, Noah’s unease was proven justified. Brent stomped down the stairs, his expression unfazed and arrogant. He brushed past Noah and the others, heading straight for the kitchen. Noah tilted his head, a knot tightening in his stomach. Where were you? He silently decided to confront Brent.

As he stepped into the kitchen, Noah maneuvered himself silently, standing a few steps behind Brent’s shorter stature. He was leaning against the counter, deep in conversation with some random dude whose name Noah didn’t care to know. Eavesdropping came naturally to him; he would justify anything if it meant looking out for you.

His heart raced when Brent’s laughter cut through the air. “Yeah, I was about to get laid,” he sneered, “until I saw her mangled scars. who the fuck would want to touch that?”

The breath in Noah’s lungs turned hot and escaped his body, choking him as Brent's words sank in. His fists clenched tightly, and he felt the world around him shatter. He could almost hear your voice, the way you’d always brushed off your past with a smile, how brave you were in the face of your demons. But Brent—he had the audacity to belittle you. That was it. Brent had fucked up.

Suddenly, the current conversation shifted; the guy noticed Noah standing there, confusion flickering across his face. It alerted Brent, and he turned around, the mocking grin fading as he saw the fury etched on Noah’s features.

“What’s your problem, man?” Brent started, but Noah didn’t give him a chance to finish. With swift motion, Noah reared back and swung, his fist connecting hard with Brent’s face. The impact sent Brent flying backward, crashing against the counter, glass bottles tumbling to the ground in a cacophony of shattering chaos.

Loud gasps erupted from the partygoers outside the kitchen, a wave of shock sweeping through the crowd. Brent scrambled to his feet, wiping blood from his lip, rage igniting his eyes. But it was too late to back down. Noah launched himself at Brent, tackling him to the ground, a flurry of punches raining down on him, fueled by the anger and pain he felt for you.

“Get off me, you psycho!” Brent shouted, trying to push Noah away. The struggle was chaotic, a whirlwind of flailing limbs and outrage. Just as Noah readied another blow, Jolly charged in, pulling Noah back with surprising strength.

“Noah, stop!” Jolly shouted, his grip firm as he held Noah at bay. “What happened!”

Noah was seething, panting heavily as he glared down at Brent, who was trying to push himself back up, shaking with anger and disbelief. “Get the fuck out of my house,” Noah growled, his voice low and menacing.

Brent’s eyes widened, the cockiness draining from his face. He looked around, seeing the eyes of the few witnesses, the trepidation in Jolly’s grip, and the fire behind Noah’s glare.

With a rage still shimmering in his veins, Brent muttered something under his breath, stumbling out of the kitchen and pushing past a few confused guests. As the tension dissipated, the music seemed to swell once again, an unsettling backdrop to the upheaval that had just occurred.

Noah, freed from Jolly’s hold, took a moment to catch his breath, the adrenaline of the fight slowly beginning to wane, replaced by a deep concern for you. He didn’t care what anyone else thought of the scene he just created; all he could think of was you and how he could protect you from people like Brent. The real battle would be making sure you knew how much you were worth, scars and all.

The steam curled and twisted upwards like tendrils of a ghost, enveloping me in a cocoon of warmth and moisture, yet I felt anything but comforted. My sobs echoed against the bathroom tiles, reverberating with the music of the party that throbbed beneath me. Laughter and music pulsed through the floorboards, but they were alien sounds in this moment, distant and muffled, a reminder of a world I felt unfit to join.

With trembling hands, I wiped my tears away, attempting to compose myself. “Y/n?” A soft voice echoed through the bathroom, as my breath hitched. “I’m fine,” I called out weakly, trying to sound more convincing than I felt, but the tremor in my voice betrayed me. Just as I braced for another wave of tears, the shower door opened and Noah stepped in.

his clothes still on, clinging to him like a second skin. His arms wrapped around me, and I melted against him, the warmth radiating from his body bringing some semblance of solace. I could feel the steady beat of his heart through the fabric of his shirt. The gentle thump soothed me as I softly cried into his chest, his hand combing through my damp hair, as if he could weave away my pain with each passing stroke.

It took a moment to gather my composure, but when I finally pulled back to look at him, I noticed the water swirling around our feet, tinted a soft pink. Panic flared within me as I glanced down at his hands, noticing the cuts marring his knuckles. “Noah, what happened?” My heart raced at the thought of him getting hurt.

His response was almost too casual, a hint of bravado underneath the weight of his words. “I beat Brent’s fucking ass.” The smile that flickered onto my face was unexpected, born from a blend of relief and admiration. I laid my forehead against him, the warmth of his body a protective barrier against the world below.

Noah was gentle, taking the shampoo from the rack and lathering it into my hair, his fingertips pressing against my scalp in a way that felt simultaneously tender and powerful. I closed my eyes, surrendering to the comfort of his presence, letting him wash away not just the remnants of the night, but the anguish that had been clawing at my heart.

He grabbed my loofah, and bodywash, bathing me next. Sending me back 4 years ago, when he did this for me everyday. Once the water turned off, he wrapped a towel around me, the fabric covering me in warmth as he stripped off his wet clothes, every inch of my cheeks heating more at the sight. He returned, focused, practical, and somehow that made my heart swell. Lifting me effortlessly onto the counter, he took the cotton pad and my makeup remover, carefully cleaning away the smudged remnants of the night while stealing glances at me, gauging my reactions.

The simplicity of his gestures, the kindness radiating from each one, made my insides flutter. He was mending not just the mess on my face but the turmoil inside me too. When he disappeared momentarily and returned with one of his old t-shirts and a pair of my underwear, I felt a warmth. He pressed the towel into my skin, drying me off with an intense focus that made me feel seen, cherished.

He pulled the tshirt over my head, before slipping my underwear up my legs. I carefully lifted my hips from the counter, so he could pull them up over my hips. The deep scary feelings I’ve tried to bury for the past few years, slowly making their appearance.

Once I was dressed, he took my hairbrush and began to detangle my hair with the ease, each stroke a reminder of how he understood me, how he always knew how to take care of me when the world felt too heavy. I watched him in the mirror—his brow furrowed with concentration, his lips pressed together in determination.

“Thank you,” I whispered, my voice softer than the droplets of water still clinging to the tiles. He met my gaze, kindness dancing in his eyes.

“No need,” he replied with a lopsided grin. “I’ll always be here for you.” The thudding of my heart, beat wildly against my chest. Our eyes stuck in a heated stare down, waiting to see which of caved first. His hand slowly lifted to cup my cheek. His thumb softly rubbed against my cheek, as he leaned in the tiniest bit closer.

“Noah..” I breathed, my voice just above a whisper. The uncertainty that once filled his brown eyes, were now gone. Filled with a darkness, that I was more than ready to fall into. His lips finally connected to mine in a simple kiss. Almost as if testing the waters.

He pulled away for only a moment, before his other hand slob into my hair, pulling me in for another kiss. He didn’t hold back, as he squeezed himself between my thighs, attacking my lips with so much force. His tongue entered my mouth, as he groaned at the taste of me.

I whimpered against his lips, wanting, needing more of him. He pulled away again, resting his forehead against mine as we both panted. “I love you so fucking much y/n, and I’m tired of fighting it.” He shook his head, before pecking my lips again.

I smiled, wrapping my arms around his naked waist pulling him flush against me. “I love you too Noah.” I smiled softly up at him. He grabbed my thighs, wrapping them around him, before lifting me off the counter, and walking us over the threshold back into my room.

He softly dropped me onto the bed, as grabbed him hand pulling him on top of me. I grabbed the towel still wrapped around him, and pulled it loose. He smirked down at me, before reaching up and pushing my hair off my face. “Are you sure about this?”

My eyes flew back up to his before I nodded my head. “I’m positive Noah….please.” Without another word, he leaned down catching my lips into another kiss. As he kissed me, his hand trailed up my thigh, pushing it back and spreading me open.

His tongue slid in my mouth, as his fingers carefully moved my panties over before sinking two of them into me. I moaned against his mouth, as he pulled away smiling. “You sound so pretty baby.” His voice was low, and rough. I whimpered, as I softly bucked my hips into it.

After a few more thrusts he pulled his fingers out, sticking them in his mouth pulling them out with a groan. “And you taste even better.” He lifted himself off of me, grabbing the hem of my shirt.

He slowly pulled it off as I laid underneath him, a rush of warmth and trepidation surging through me. The lamp light in my room, casted a golden hue on everything in the room. It felt as if the world outside had ceased to exist—a serene bubble where only the two of us resided.

Even though Noah had seen my scars a million times before, an insidious wave of insecurity washed over me. As his gaze drifted over the pink lines that traced my skin, I couldn’t help but hold my breath.

A shaky exhale escaped my lips, a reflection of my nerves. Noah, always attuned to my feelings, noticed immediately. His eyes softened, filled with a understanding that spoke volumes. He leaned down, and before I could fully process what was happening, I felt the warmth of his tongue glide along the long scar that ran down my chest between my breasts. An unexpected jolt of pleasure coursed through me, mingled with vulnerability.

He continued his descent, his lips softly placing tender kisses upon each of my scars. With every touch, he seemed to dissolve the doubts that gnawed at the edges of my mind. I could feel each light brush of his lips, each gentle kiss, healing parts of me I thought were beyond repair.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered against my skin, his voice barely above a breath. The words lingered in the air, wrapping around my heart like a soothing balm. It surprised me how true they felt, even after what happened tonight. He looked up, deep into my eyes, his sincerity gleaming like a beacon in the dim lighting.

My pulse raced, and from deep within me, the knots of self-doubt began to unravel. Noah had a way of making me feel seen, as if he could peer into my soul and appreciate every scar etched into it. Each imperfection, every faint line was an emblem of survival, milestones of resilience—but in that moment, they felt less like burdens and more like beautiful parts of my story.

He returned to my lips, kissing me softly, allowing the heat and intimacy of our connection to wash over us. I melted into him, giving in to the moment, and for the first time, I felt as if I could shed my insecurities, if only for a while.

He grabbed the sides of my underwear, pulling them off. He laid back onto me before kissing me hotly, and taking no time to slowly push into me. I gasped, digging my nails into his back at the burning stretch. He grabbed my jaw softly bringing my eyes to his. “Are you okay baby?”

I nodded, lifting my head to kiss his lips. I softly bit on his bottom lip, pulling on it softly. He grunted, as his hips roughly snapped against mine. “Please Noah…” I whined, pulling him into me. He lifted up, caging my head in between his arms. He stared down at me, as he pounded into me mercilessly.

“Fuck baby you feel so good” he groaned, above me. The pleasure on his face made me feral. I dug my heel into the mattress, using all my force to flip our bodies over. His eyes widened in shock, as huge grin formed on his lips. “Fuck baby, you gonna ride me?” He almost whimpered.

My pussy throbbed at his words. Having my big tatted mainly best friend whimpering underneath was not something I ever imagined, but am so fucking lucky to experience. I leaned down, trailing kisses down his throat while he groaned. I leaned back up, grabbing his dick, and hovering back over it.

We both let out low groans, as I sank back down. “Fuck Noah you’re so big.” I whined, slowly rocking my hips back forth. “Yeah?” He breathed, gripping my hips tightly. I nodded my head, placing my hands against his chest.

He groaned at my sluggish pace, as I smirked down at him, enjoying my teasing game. After a few minutes, he was done with my teasing. His hand shot up, wrapping around my throat. He pulled me down until our noses were touching, as a cocky smile made its way to his face.

“You really thought I was gonna let you take control?” He growled, brushing his lips against mine. “I-..” my sentence was cut short, as his hips fucked up into me hard and fast. My nails dug into his chest, gripping on for dear life.

His fingers tightened around my throat as he finally connected our lips into a sloppy kiss. Lips, tongues, and teeth clashing. He pushed me back, making me sit up straight on top of him. He reached up, shoving two fingers in my mouth, as I moaned around them, sucking on them hard.

He slowly slid them out, running them down my throat, down my chest and stopping to squeeze my tit. “C’mon baby. You gonna cum for me?” He panted, continuing his decent until his fingers reached my swollen clit.

I threw my head back with a moan, in love with how he was making me feel. I leaned back, placing my hands right above his knees behind me, as I continued riding him. “Fuuuuck…” I groaned as his fingers sped up.

I felt my orgasm rising with each thrust of his hips, and stroke of his fingers. “I’m gonna cum.” I whined, looking down at him. The sight was beautiful. His brows were furrowed, and his lips were parted, as he released ragged breaths.

“C’mon baby give it to me. Cum on my dick.” He groaned finally looking up at me. As soon as we made eye contact, my orgasm shook my body. “Good fucking girl.” He grunted, as he fucked me through it. I huffed, falling onto his chest as thrusted a few more times finally releasing into me with a groan.

We laid there for what felt like hours, catching our breaths just holding each other. He placed a kiss on top of my head, before gently pushing me off onto the bed beside him. He reached down grabbing the towel he wore earlier, and cleaned us off.

Once we were clean he grabbed my comforter, pulling it over us. He pulled me into his arms, as I snuggled deep into his chest. “I love you so much y/n. You’re the most beautiful person I have ever laid my eyes on. I will spend every minute proving that to you from now on. Please don’t let some dick head make you think differently.”

I felt my eyes well up with tears again, as I placed a gentle kiss to the middle of his chest. “I love you.”

[lowtaperfeyd]

Feyd x diplomatic reader, think padme but she doesn't want to change feyd. Reader is the go to for diplomatic issues in lower houses/ minor politics and yet for all her words and actions when arranged to marry feyd she doesn't want to change him. " you would fight for me and defend me if needed it is only right I do the same, why try and change you when I respect who you are".

Uxorious Duties

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!reader

author's note: slightly submissive feyd, but not sexual? Yes please!

warnings: death, mentions of death, blood, normal dune things, house harkonnen

wc: 1158

Being sent to Geidi Prime was not surprising for (Y/N). She was a go to for the emperor to send to planets and sort out political issues. The part she didn’t expect was being arranged to marry Feyd-Rautha. His actions were the surprising part. The way he fought and his prowess in and out of the arena. He was overconfident, even arrogant. But, since he was going to be the new governor of Arrakis. Why not give him a wife who could take care of business when he is off slaughtering. After all, is that not the duties of a wife? 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As (Y/N) was sitting in the mammoth Harkonnen dining room eating breakfast alone, she started to look over the letters she was sent from people who thought her marriage was a death sentence. That it was only good for securing a short alliance with houses that the Harkonnens wanted to import from. Everything went along the lines of, 

Your husband will kill you once you’re not of service. You’re nothing but a pawn for him.

Think twice before asking for mercy. That will make it more amusing when they kill you. 

You should've gotten away from the emperor when you had the chance.  Other places need you more. 

While she knew what she was getting herself into, the acceptance that she would die, at the hands of her husband, disturbed her.

Those feelings washed away when she watched him fight. It was entertaining for everyone watching and for Feyd-Rautha himself. But, for (Y/N), it was a testament of what he would do for his wife. The wedding day vows of him not letting anyone hurt her, touch her, or disrespect her. Because sure, Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen was a harmful man who wasn’t afraid to kill, but that meant his wife could say whatever she wanted, no matter how vehemently, and who she said it to, could not disagree, out of fear for their life. It only took one time for this to be instilled, two days after they had gotten married. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Na-Baroness Harkonnen, while your idea for this trading route is good. Compared to others it’s mediocre at best.” The imperial advisor scoffed, “Who ever said it was your place to make these things?” 

The other people at the sides of the table chuckled along with what he was saying. But (Y/N) knuckles were tensing up at just how hard she was gripping the arm of her chair at the head of the table. White hot anger flashed through her mind and over her eyes.  

The advisor kept on going, mocking her ideas and diminishing her accomplishments on other planets, saying they were mere flukes and shouldn’t have been taken seriously.

“... and your marriage to the Na-Baron,” he snorted out, not realizing that he was walking through the door now to listen in on what his wife had to say, “he chose an alien from a different planet, not a Harkonnen highborn. At least that shows to us you won’t be around for much longer, so we don’t have to look at your atrocious ideas anymore!” He finished, guffawing. 

“Are you done?” replied (Y/N), smirking, as she saw the angry look on her husband’s face, “because I think there is someone behind who would like to speak with you.” 

As the advisor turned around he saw Feyd-Rautha glaring at him. Before could say anything, Feyd grabbed him by the neck and threw him against the wall.

From the outside of the room, you could only hear the screaming of the poor advisor, who had dared to speak badly about the Na-Baron's new wife, as he had his head stomped in by the Na-Baron’s boot. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The letters now seemed irrelevant to her now. She had a good life so far on Geidi Prime. She had respected and she had earned it too. But it did help to have a husband who invoked fear in those around him. Speaking of her husband, the doors opened and in walked Feyd. 

“Why are you here?” She questioned while looking up from her assortment of papers, letters, and documents, “Why aren’t you training?” 

“I finished early,” He uttered as he began to walk closer to the table with his bloodied knife still in his hands.

“While I don't mind you sitting with me,” She said, not surprised at the fact her husband had a knife that was covered in blood, “please clean your weapons off before coming to visit.” 

Feyd reluctantly took a cloth that was on the table and wrapped it around the knife before setting it down. 

“You say you don’t want to change me and yet you make me follow your rules.” Feyd retorted in slight irritation. 

“Rules don’t necessarily imply change, Feyd.” She responded, “I just don’t want blood on the table while eating. Iron is a very important part of one's diet, I don’t prefer it in the form of blood.” (Y/N) joked. 

“Then what do you want me to change!” he shouted angry at his wife for not asking him for anything, including change. Because he knew that’s something she strived for and he just wanted to make his wife happy. 

(Y/N) was not scared by his outburst, she had been witness to many of them, but none of them pointed at her before. 

“I don’t want to change you, Feyd,” She said as she got up from the table to walk to him, “you would fight for me, defend me if I needed it.” She stopped right in front of him and gently grabbed his forearm, “why should I try to change you when I respect who you are?” 

Feyd looked at his wife who treated him like an asset to herself. It surprised Feyd because he had never heard her say something about why she needed him. Only the reasons why she didn’t. But even then it wasn’t words that came from her, voices from other planets. The confession of his wife tugged at a place in his chest, a feeling that he hadn’t felt before. He took his rough hands that were calloused from fights and placed them on the soft skin of his wife’s jaw near her ears. 

“Then use me as your sword if someone needs slashing,” he whispered as he laid his forehead against his wife’s, “and use me when someone disagrees with your ideas and plans.” he continued softly, “If someone chooses not to hear you; I will make them, no matter the cost.” 

“Thank you” (Y/N) said softly, knowing she had that man right where she wanted him to be. She now knew that Arrakis would be hers if asked. And it was in her cards and plans to ask soon to take over spice production when they would leave, under the guise of allowing him to hunt down a well known fighter.        

And why would he say no to her?                   

[fumifooms]

Firefly Wedding is so…

It’s so

It’s them. It’s "It’s just a firefly, they’re meant to die soon. Why should I care about the sick, or the poor?"

It’s "I was purposely trying to scare you and push you away to see how far you were willing to go with your act, how desperate you were to play with my feelings as if I was a fool, but it didn’t work."

It’s "I know you’re just using me but now I care. Please keep using me. I need you to need me."

It’s choosing to give her her freedom anyways. Because your love is no longer all about you, no longer selfish. Because this love isn’t just a shallow balm to soothe your complexes anymore.

It’s being betrayed, finally facing the lies and no longer pretending you both don’t know that this is a farce, but desperately wanting to keep it going anyways. It’s "I should hate you now. Why don’t I? Hey, tell me we’ll go through with the plan, tell me you’ll marry me after all. Otherwise, why am I still here? Why don’t I want to leave? You act like you don’t need me but I still need you."

Like that’s so revolutionary for a yandere story. The self-delusion is strong, denial that things have changed despite it being impossible to truly believe, BUT HE STAYS. It’s no longer selfish 😭😭

"I don’t care about you anymore, I won’t help you. Get yourself killed for all I care." <- Jumps to her rescue 3 milliseconds later when she almost falls down a ladder/roof. It happens twice. The ‘lying and trying to emotionally distance yourself from something to protect yourself and not get hurt’ defense mechanism is blatant and it’s failing really bad.

It’s "My sense of duty and goals to have accomplished something useful in my short life are making me do this, but I do want you to stay with me." The yandere stuff here gets turned on its head because what he says is empty where it matters and meaningful where it matters. It’s knowing that if Satoko asks him not to kill anyone he won’t, but knowing that he won’t give up on her no matter what, even if she’s unattainable, even if she’s sickly, even if she pushes him away like just before. It’s so thinly veiled for "I’m determined to see my goal through, but that’s not what I want. If you just so happen to take me away and I don’t try to run away hard enough then we can elope and be free. I want to have an excuse to leave with you. Please give up on marrying me. Please don’t. I want that, but I can’t."

It’s "If I didn’t burn brightly in my short firefly life, then what was the point?"

Except that burning brightly doesn’t have to mean making big achievements, or being useful to your family.

It can be living happily, living for the ones you love, fighting for them. It can be worth to risk it for things that actually matter to you.

It’s giving your heart to someone, figuratively and literally. To lend it to them even if it might get used or battered, for as long as it beats to use your body to protect them, even if you have to sacrifice yourself. A love that burns bright into a bonfire before they both turn to ashes. Unwise but wholehearted.

It’s despite even that, needing grandiose gestures to be able to trust that this is real. It’s needing external cues that prove it to feel safe in their love existing, other people to confirm that he’s not crazy, that this is happening and this is how they both feel. Their love has been fake, both being a warped love and being a lie, only being out of necessity or because the other was the only one willing to offer it to them, offering comfort, safety, support and care. And showing that they care is the most loving of all. It’s despite everything falling back into old habits that "Oh if she was miserably worried for me then that means she’s not indifferent to me! That’s good!" And then once again being taken aback by her, by her earnestness and by her will. Because oh, no, this goes deeper than that. She cares. It’s love.

It’s opening your heart up to love, and both being punished and rewarded for it.

But most of all it’s

And it being the most loving thing he’d ever heard

Firefly Wedding is so…

And yet it’s also

The complicated and hurtful nature of love and the joy and light it brings are two sides of the same coin, because that’s what inevitably happens when you care about something. But caring about a firefly isn’t a waste even however short lived it is, or how hard the loss will inevitably hit you. Isn’t their light just such a wonder to witness?

[enkas-illusion]

Better Than Your 2D Men

Fandom / Pairing: Attack On Titan / Eren x f!reader

Rating: SFW / Fluff

Genre/Theme: Established relationship; non-titan au

Content warning: fluff, teasing, language, suggestive (?), they make out a little.

Summary: When you crush over your fav anime men, Eren gets jealous cause homeboy wants all the attention to himself.

Author's Note: Hello, here’s a short fluffy one-shot with my fav 2D man cause I wanted to have an ambitious crossover of my fav animes. Thank you for reading <3

~ Eren’s Birdie

Song Dedication: 3D (Alternate Ver.) by Jung Kook

“Baby… pay attention to me…”

You ignore your boyfriend's pouty voice as he lies across the bed, near your feet – instead, you focus on the laptop screen on your lap.

“How much longerrrr?” You hear him sigh and feel fingers caressing the bottom of your feet.

“You know I'm not ticklish,” you reply plainly, eyes still glued to the screen.

“Hmm, that's why…” you hear him mumble before you feel a set of teeth bite around your right foot toes.

“Eren, ew… what the fuck,” you cringe, pulling your foot away from him as you slide the laptop to your side, abruptly halting the anime you were watching to finally look at him.

Your boyfriend smiles ingeniously, proud of his accomplishment at finally getting your attention redirected towards him.

“So that’s what it takes for you to finally pay attention to what really matters,” he ponders as he crawls up to lie between your legs, tilting his head to rest his face on your right thigh.

“I was focusing on what really matters,” you roll your eyes as you grab your laptop once again to rest it on your other thigh. However, Eren’s quick to move further up till his torso is splayed over you, almost like a lizard trying to cover as much surface area of a wall it possibly can.

“Rennie, please let me finish these episodes, I haven’t had the time to watch them for like… weeks now,” you sigh as you try to move his heavy body to the side.

He doesn't budge but simply wraps his arms around your waist, tucking his hands into the gap between your body and the mattress, resting his cheek on your belly, “Okay, you can continue watching.” 

You sigh in defeat as you tilt your laptop screen, pressing play and focusing your attention back on the show despite the awkward position you’re in. 

It isn’t another 10 minutes into the episode before you hear your boyfriend speak again, “Sometimes I wonder if the only reason you watch this show is cause the men are attractive. There’s no way a slice-of-life person like you enjoys such violence and death.”

You don’t reply, trying your best to ignore his commentary and focusing on the fight scene.

“Oh my god, I’m right! Who is it? Do you like Gojo? Or Nanami? Or who– what are the names of other hot men in this one?” Eren chuckles in disbelief, looking up to scan your face to see if you give away anything.

“Shh, let me concentrate… it’s an important fight,” you mumble without looking at him and the scene is almost over.

“Yeah right,” he scoffs as he pauses the episode right when Choso enters the frame, “tell me, do you find this guy hot?”

“Eren, are you seriously jealous of a 2D character?” you counter, trying not to laugh at his actions.

“Well, if he’s stealing my precious time with my girl then ye–”

“We’ve literally been in bed the whole day,” you interrupt him.

“And is it so wrong to want to be closer to my girlfriend?” he gasps.

“Yes, you were lying around, scrolling on your phone… doing random shit the whole day but the minute I decided to watch JJK, you suddenly want my attention,” you roll your eyes at him.

“Don’t change the topic– who’s your fav among them?” he dodges your accusations.

A smile creeps up on your lips as you decide to indulge him, “Well, they’re all so hot, it’s hard to choose really. There’s this guy, Choso… and Geto, and Toji! Now that I think about it, all of them are equally attractive.”

“All brunettes,” he notes.

“What?” you ask, confused.

“All the men you just named have dark hair,” he states.

“Yes… so?” 

“I’m basically like the real-life version of them – I have long, dark hair, a good physique, handsome face–”

“Okay, Narcissus, chill,” you snort. Eren pulls away from you to move further up till he’s hovering over you, caging your head between his arms.

“No, my point being… if you have all of this right here,” he points at himself as he smirks, “why waste your time on some stupid anime?”

“I can have both,” you grin, pressing your palms over his chest.

“One is clearly better than the other,” he dips his head down for a peck.

“I seriously can’t believe you’re jealous of a bunch of sexy 2D men,” you giggle once again.

“No, I'm not… Can your 2D men do this?” he whispers, tilting your face and burying his face into your neck. He licks your skin before sucking on it roughly, causing goosebumps to rise all over your body.

“Can they?” he asks once again as his hand glides under your t-shirt to cup one of your breasts, playing with the nipple. Eren nibs at the spot behind your ear and you let out a soft moan. “Yes?” 

“No,” you huff, closing your eyes at the feeling.

“So, am I not better than your 2D men?” he whispers in your ear before biting your earlobe. His hand abandons your tit, instead travelling down to dip into the waistband of your shorts, pressing two fingers over your mound.

“Y-yes,” you sigh. He laughs at how desperate your voice comes out and you tilt your head to kiss him on the lips to end this awkward conversation. 

And Eren, being the good boyfriend that he is, lets you mask your embarrassment into his embrace – delighted at being the centre of your attention once again.

~fin~

[pablitogavii]

Can i request something fluff with gavi?

Hard times together

It was a hard game with many injured players but fighting till the last second. Pablo was a winner and anything other than that was unacceptable for your angry bird.

No matter how many times you had the same conversation exposing to him that they can’t win every single fame, he is still stubborn enough to listen.

“Amor, it was a good match..you’ll win next time” you can back home following after him into the bedroom where he threw himself into the bed dramatically.

“We should have won! That goal shouldn’t have been removed! It’s not fair!!” He shine laying on his stomach and hiding his face into the pillow. Aww poor baby!!!

You sighed getting on top of him and just laying there on his back while nuzzling your nose into his neck trying to find his face. You knew he was a bit ticklish and you tried getting f him to laugh at least a little bit.

“Amorrr!!! Stooop!” He whined still and you sighed kissing his cheek about to move off but his strong arms wouldn’t let you. Seems like he just wanted you to stop the tickles but still keep cuddling him? He’s so adorable! ! !

“What do you need cariño???” You ask and he shrugged his shoulders. Pablo wasn’t a big talker, and he almost never just says what he needs. You got to know him so well that you could guess for yourself at this point.

“Wanna lay on my chest and let me play with your hair for awhile? Maybe take a nap? Huh?” You suggested and he immediately nodded his head and you both moved to the position he severely loved the most. Obviously to his friends, he’s only one holding you and stuff!!! But you didn’t mind loving that he is free to be vulnerable with you.

“I’m even more angry that you traveled to watch me and we lost! It’s annoying!” He said and you smiled at how much he cares leaning down and kissing your head while continuing to play with his messy curly hair.

“I’m still so proud of you amor..so proud!” You say and he smiles finally nodding his head and moving up to kiss all over your neck.

"Hmm but I want to win for you..always princesa" he whined like a baby and you smiled knowing what it means for him to win with Barça but also to prove that he is 'good enough'. You both strive very hard in your careers because you want to feel accomplished, which is why you comeptlely understood him and vice versa.

"I know cariño..pero tú siempre estas mi campeon" you say kissing his forehead and he looks up with that adorable pout on his handsome face. You giggled kissing his pout and he blushed a little. He was so cute when he was needy like this!!!

"Promiso???" he asked and you smiled nodding your head while pecking his lips a few times more.

"Promiso.." you say loving the way his smile looked when he was reassured that you will always be there with him. He knew that he found something really special with you and he was always making sure to take care of it.

"Get your ass up Gavira!" Mario barged in without knocking (which he always does) with Ale following behind giggling when he saw Pablo laying on your chest like an adorable little baby.

"You don't know how to knock cabrón!?" Pablo said but didn't make an effort to move from your chest and hide how much he was enjoying this position right now. He didn't care what anyone thought since everyone already knew what a huge simp he was for his girl.

" We're going to celebrate!!!" Ale added earning a death glare from his friend.

"Celebrate what!? If you haven't watched the match, we lost cabrón!" Pablo was grumpy and that meant angry bird was surfacing which his friends knew very well.

"So what?? You still scored and played really well! Come on, stop being a baby and get off your girlfriend's chest so we can go out and party!!!" Ale said clearly more in the mood for the party than your boy right now. You knew what it meant being in Barça..winning wasn't an option but a necessity.

"Maybe it's not a bad idea to go have some fun out, huh cariño?? Forget about the match for awhile???" you ask and he raised his head a little pouting and shaking his head..he just wanted everyone to leave and let him sleep on your chest in peace.

You smiled kissing his lips and starting to play with his hair while he laid down nuzzling further into your chest not caring that his friends were right there watching. You were blushing hard a little embarrassed at them staring at Pablo practically hiding his nose in between your breasts.

"Lucky cabrón..." Mario said and Pablo pulled you even closer so that he was completely covering your chest with his body not wanting his friends to keep staring and making you uncomfortable.

"Stop staring!" Pablo said and both bots flipped him off saying politely goodbye to you before leaving to have some fun tonight. You giggled once you and your boy were finally alone again.

"You being a little celoso cariño???" you ask noticing that the moment his friends were gone he moved from trying to cover your chest.

"Tu eres mia! Let me sleep amor!!" he of course whined not wanting to be teased so you decided to let it go and him win cuddling him and playing with his hair for hours while he napped on your chest.

"Mi campeon cariñoso..rest up..I'll always be there for you..through both good and hard times..siempre contigo" you whispered knowing that he was asleep but Pablo heard it feeling his heart melt at those words. They meant everything to him..<33

[cr4yolaas]

blue spring — spaces inbetween

prev: wonder | masterlist | next: caving in

the scene is familiar to him, although it's a bit more crowded. he's already drifted apart from his group to avoid whatever antics they might pull off tonight, and he's beyond glad he did so early, because he doesn't want to imagine traversing through the museum without the peace he's obtained now.

each room is lined with different works, all of which from artists he doesn't quite recognize. there's an installation with different fruits, and he wonders if she's into that kind of artwork. eventually, he reaches the end of the building, and is met with an arrangement of all the canvases he carried twenty four hours ago.

she meets him at the entrance rather than the end of the hall this time with her hands clasped at her back, a sign of her anxiety. "i'm glad you came tonight," she murmurs, and it's barely audible over the hundreds of voices floating around them.

"i'm glad, too."

without question, she guides him throughout her exhibit. her explanation of each piece flows out naturally, and he's caught by surprise every time she explains the meaning of every image, the gruesome scenes and strong lines finally making sense. when they arrive at his favorite piece, she's silent, as if reminiscing over the memories she'd imbued within the paint. he doesn't pry for any explanation. all he can tell her is that he always preferred it over her other works. that, no matter how often he was exposed to her skill and talent, he always thought back to her two-headed lambs. when she cracks a smile at his remark, a sense of accomplishment washes over him. he can't fight the upturn of his own lips in response.

the moment is gentle, and as the seconds pass by slowly, he can't tear his eyes away from her, nor can she look away from him. he wonders if he would be here if she wasn't tutoring him, and as soon as the thought crosses his mind, he dispels it.

the call of her name from the other side of the room pulls her out of her trance. his eyes follow hers, and together, they see a man kageyama is unfamiliar with approaching them with an unsteady amount of haste. seemingly, his presence shakes her, given by the tension that seeps into her muscles and her twitching hand.

"you haven't been answering my calls," is the first thing the man says. she doesn't respond. "i don't see why you try so hard to leave me out of your life. there's no need for that attitude."

"please leave," she quips back sternly, her voice just barely wavering. her stare is harsh — harsher than he's ever seen — but it doesn't do much to mask the fear riddled in her bones. the guy inches closer to the pair, and on instinct, kageyama's fist meets his jaw, the impact smooth and clean. her head whips around to face him, her mouth agape in shock. it's an odd scene — her stepfather, who she had desperately tried not to see, hunched over in the middle of her exhibit, and the boy she'd grown a little too attached to standing beside her with red knuckles. there's a pause in the air before kageyama is the one keeling over, and while she doesn't quite see what happened, she can tell by the drops of crimson falling onto the concrete beneath him that it isn't good. before the staff can rush in, she finds herself dragging him away into whatever hallway she can find first, her grip on his wrist tight and her footsteps heavy.

she doesn't know what to say. she isn't sure if she's supposed to be upset at him, or glad he stuck up for her, but all she can focus on is the blood spilling out of his nostrils. endless apologies fall from his mouth while she struggles to find something to clog up his nose, and in a panicked haze, she slots her lips against his in an attempt to diminish his qualms. it's violent, and messy, and far from what she's used to doing. small, warm droplets fall onto her cheek, and she can't really find it in herself to be disgusted at the sensation.

"i'm sorry," she whispers when she pulls away. "i just needed you to calm down."

he doesn't know what to say, and neither does she. the ache in his chest rises again, and the dizziness returns to his head. when the bleeding finally stops (before she can find anything to seal it), he finds himself going in for another one, this time with his blistered palms holding onto her face and with more intent.

for the final time, she tells herself it isn't right for her to be attached. but when he kisses her again, all the rules she had constructed for herself dissolve, and maybe, she decides, she can be attached to him.

taglist: @mfcherry @eggyrocks @scxrcherr @yuminako @girlkissersco @diorzs @causenessus @kyo-kyo1 @k0z3me @shironagi @lovingvi @bunninio @hisfuture @lilchubbyyy @gsyche @ghostreader0307

[dailyadventureprompts]

hey! was wondering if you have some ideas/tips for running a dark fantasy campaign? ive been running one for about a year now and while ive included horror elements im a naturally silly person and i feel like i go a couple sessions without including something strange and off-putting. i do wanna be distinct from grimdark, i want my story to have hope and moments of levity, but still feel scary and like the world is against the pcs.

hope ur day is well :]

Genretalk: Dark Fantasy

Maintaining a consistent tone at our d&d table is a notoriously hard thing to accomplish. Partially it's because it's a collaborative game and not all of our players might be as dictatorially inclined as we are, there's also the dice to contend with and those little polyhedral bastards don't care about dramatic consistency or the wrath of god.

So it falls to us as dungeon masters to do most of the work, but luckily I've found that evoking a specific genre can be pretty easily done through keeping a few ideas in mind while we're running scenes and building out our worlds.

First, a meditation on loss :.|:;

What makes dark fantasy dark? The surface level is aesthetics; dirt covered fauxmedivalism, horror imagery, gritty "realism", a lack of smiles and rainbows and happiness. These are all too common but they only reflect the feelings the genre exists to convey, specifically ones related to both the fear of loss and the suffering caused by it.

If people are going to lose something (whether they be players or npcs), you're going to need them and your audience to care about it, which means learning to build connections and evoke sympathy. Having those moments of levity is SO important because they're the point of attachment for your players, the thing that makes them care about this sometimes rotten world you've crated that they've taken on the responsibility of saving. If you skipped this step you'd be going into grimdark, which is one of the reasons I dislike the genre: death and suffering lose all meaning if there's no alternative.

Likewise, as easy as it is to lose hope, people are going to try to make the best of bad times. There's good food and the warmth of a fire and the company of friends and the chance of something better happening tomorrow. People are going to want these things no matter how turbulent circumstances get, so it's important to focus on them to give contrast to the darkness of your story.

Bad things happen to good people and there's (probably) nothing you can do about it

One of the central conceits of playing D&D is that the players are heroes, characters with a unique power and agency in the world and the ability to shape the outcome of events, specifically to beat the odds and save the day. However we can still lean into the dark side of dark fantasy by highlighting that while the players are privileged by their protagonist status, most other people aren't.

Most NPCS the party end up getting to know should have something tragic in their backstory; a war, a famine, a plague, a loved one's death. This will have affected them deeply and have coloured their outlook on the world and will set up their later dramatic arc. The town magistrate is going to have opinions about adventurers after her sister befriended a passing gang of sellswords and ended up dying in childbirth after being seduced by their charismatic leader. The townspeople are unlikely to rebel against their petty and sadistic baron since they remember his military acumen that saved them during the last border war. This also sets up the unexpected moments where the party can fight against the darkness of the world by getting people to see past the lifetime of cruelty they've been forced to endure.

A centeral part of the players having agency is making choices, but sometimes things go wrong, and sometimes there's no good options. Innocent people get hurt, there are costs that we end up having to pay that may or may not be worth the price. Keeping the young lovers apart and letting the unpleasant political marriage go through is the only way to avert war. There's a murder demon stalking town and the only way to banish it is for someone innocent to be ritually sacrificed, none of the heroes count, they've all got blood on their hands.

One of the best tricks I've learned to highlight the "no good options" approach is to present the party with a status quo that needs to change, but characters they like who are reliant upon it. It's easy to justify toppling the evil empire, those guys are jerks and are actively making life worse for everyone, but things get messy when doing what needs to be done involves making life worse for a lot of generally good people.

Messy decisions are what we want in dark fantasy because it really gives the party agency over the story. Are they willing to give up something they care about to perform an act of heroism? Are they willing to let the world tip further into chaos for the sake of seeing justice done? If there is no right choice, then what choice will you make?

The universe trends towards darkness

Worldbuilding is an important part of establishing your tone, and while you don't need to constantly keep ratcheting up how dreadful things are it pays to be mindful while thinking up new details for your setting.

Living in the world is a bloody business and people are all too often accepting of awful things if it makes their lives easier. On the base level it's the "kill people who are different monsters take their stuff" angle of self enrichment, but it gets more abstract as you venture into the non-adventuring levels of society. It's stuff like religions venerating painful martyrdoms as miracles, joyous feast days and festivals to commemorate some bloody event, national or family pride over participation in historic slaughter. A dark fantasy world is one that celebrates it's hypocrisy and compromises because it has long given up on good actually winning out.

To really hammer in that "fighting against the odds" feeling, stories/legends/songs about other heroes should either be tragedies or well known falsehoods.

Change (to say nothing of actual improvement) comes at terrible cost. It isn't fair that the world/narrative/universe is set up this way, but now the heroes have to deal with it.

Artsource

[peterparkouryo]

operation, distract | ﹒⪩⪨﹒

﹒⪩⪨﹒

prompt; You're second best in every class you have with Peter Parker, and you decide that has to change.

warnings: fluff and banter, maybe typos nd stuff

word count: 1.4k

a/n: this is short and bad, just a lil sumn for y'all since i've been gone for two whole months :(

You hated the feeling of seeming or even being remotely close to the brink of a failure. 

Which, yes is something every human has to go through in life in order to get to the top, but it's hard to lose all the time. You'd like to think you were a really good person, a great one even. Always helping out your community, all that good people stuff, and you were really smart, so smart that you're almost top of all your classes.

Just almost, though.

The thing is, when you want to make it to the top and be the best, there's obviously always going to be some sort of obstacle. Your obstacle is, Peter Parker.

Just thinking of his name makes that big fat vein form on your forehead, because of course someone as socially awkward and conveniently attractive as him has to be your competition to prove your smartness.

Peter is sweet, that much you can admit, but not to you and only because you dislike him just as much as he dislikes you. He can pretend he doesn't but you know your irritation and insults toward him really sets him off, which albeit is sometimes hilarious, but the boy's presence is insufferable and no matter what anyone says you, you will never like him.

You might be overreacting, and to be fair it's a possibility that you are, but is it your fault that every time you two share a class he just has to rub it in your face that he can solve math problems faster than you? Or that he has an internship with THE Tony Stark? It's unfair and you can't help but feel a little jealous.

"I hate gym." Cindy grumbles and sits next to you on the bleachers, and you pay her complaints no mind as you study for an upcoming test.

"Y/N?" She waves a hand in your face and you have to psychically fight back an eye roll just to look at the girl.

Cindy Moon is one of your only friends (sadly) and she's so sweet and understanding toward you when you want to rant about how hard your life is or how unfair the justice system is, which is something you two have in common.

"What?"

"Are you listening?" 

"No." You go back to studying.

Before you can reread the paragraph you were looking at, Cindy closes your book and you look over at the girl in disbelief and frustration.

"Why did you just do that?" You glare at her as she innocently shrugs.

"Talk to me!" She pouts, you look away with a huff.

Another thing is, she's annoyingly good at getting what she wants, especially from you.

"I'm trying to study Cin, maybe later," You reach for your book and she moves it out of your reach.

You show her a disapproving look.

"Why do you need to study? You're the smartest person ever."

You show her a fake smile and reach for the book again.

"Thanks but if I want to be top of my science class, I need to study, no give me the book." You start climbing onto her lap to get the book.

All Cindy does is laugh at the lengths you're going to, and you both pay no mind to the staring students.

"We look like lesbians." She jokes and your eyes go wide, quickly looking behind you two at the lingering gazes.

Your embarrassment is probably evident so you decide to get out of your friend's lap before your lazy excuse of a gym teacher and other students think the wrong thing.

"Just give me the book," You sit next to her again.

"Fine, you're no fun." Cindy gives you the book and you smile in accomplishment.

A few peaceful minute go by, and the gym class drags on for another fifty minutes at you study in somewhat silence as Cindy watches a small basketball game going on, on the other side of the gym.

"Uh oh, Peter missed the shot." She mumbles and you snap your head up, looking in the direction she stared.

If there was one thing you wanted to see, was Peter Parker fail.

Unfortunately all hopes and dreams crash and burn because when you look at the small basketball game, you see Peter shoot the ball into the basket and you roll your eyes at your dumb luck.

Another few minutes past and the basketball game was over, thankfully, now you can study in peace as your friend is now reading a book you had so kindly recommended (you didn't).

"Hey Cin, and goodie two shoes," An annoying voice distracts you from your studying and you try to ignore him and his voice as Cindy looks up with a smile and greets him back.

"Hey Peter, good game," She nods, and you continuing studying.

"Y'know there's no point in studying when I'm just gonna get the highest grade anyway." Peter brags and if you weren't so bothered by his presence your left eye wouldn't twitch at his words.

You rub your forehead and look up at him with a subtle glare, he shows you a smile as you finally give him what he wanted.

In all honesty, what you wanted was to not be bothered by him and, his unruly sweaty hair, flushed face and—stop.

"Who asked you?" You raise your eyebrow with an irritated tone, and you can feel Cindy grow uncomfortable.

Peter just smiles at your question.

"I'm just saying, like sure you're smart, but you're not exactly 'Peter' smart." He emphasized with a shrug.

"Is smart Peter in the room with us right now?" You tilt your head and hear Cindy snort at your expense.

His smile drops and you watch as jaw clenches at your words.

"Funny,"

"I try."

The silence takes over and you can't decide to either be thankful or what, and the tension is painfully palpable. The only thing you can do is stare at him as he stares at you. A staring contest you didn't want.

Cindy has to break the death glares you two were sending each other.

"Are you going to Flash's party?" She asks Peter and you want to hug her for saving the day.

Peter's gaze linger on you for awhile before looking at Cindy with a smile way different from the glare or whatever he was showing you a mere second ago.

"No, I wasn't invited." He shrugs.

"And a good thing too." You grumble, Cindy nudges you at that.

"Well I was thinking you come with me and Y/N, if you have nothing better to do." The girl offers with a grin.

You knew your kindness would come back and bite you, and she was proving to be no better as a "friend" by inviting your arch nemesis.

"Are you sure witches are even allowed to parties?" Peter looks at Cindy with fake concern and you go to stand up to attack but your friend grabs your hand.

And of course all Peter can do is smile at your reaction.

"Anyway, you should come, it'd be fun."

Peter considers this and nods at your friend with an awkward smile, and if you didn't despise everything he did, you'd think it was adorable.

"I'll think about it, thanks." He smiles before bidding his goodbyes to her, because god forbids he even thinks of saying another word to you.

Once Peter leaves you snatch your hand away and look at Cindy with a fuming expression.

"Why did you invite the real life walking devil to go to that party with us?" You shake your head in disbelief.

Cindy snickers and you're even more bewildered.

"Because, it's so obvious you two like each-other." She laughs.

You wanted to vomit at her words of disrespect. Like Peter? That's rich.

"Oh no, no I do not like Peter, trust me." You argue with a laugh.

Cindy nods, obviously unconvinced just as the bell rings for the next class.

"Sure and I don't have a crush on Keanu Reeves." She stands up and walks to the girl's locker room, you follow.

"But you do."

"Exactly." She shrugs and you roll your eyes.

"I do not like Peter, believe me." You try your hardest to embed that in your friend's head.

As you two walk into the locker room, she turns around.

"I guess we'll see at the party, yeah?" Cindy turns back around and puts in her combination to her locker before unlocking it.

You groan and do the same with yours.

You hated the fact that now there's was a possibility of you liking Peter, when of course you showed no signs of ever even considering him as more than a person you wanted to prove better than.

That's what it is, and that's what it'll be. 

Peter is nothing more than a person you want to prove better than.

there's obv gonna be a part two

[happylikeasadsong]

syd x carmy in season three

i’m back here cause i have way too much to say than it can fit on thread on twt

this is just what i could come up after sitting on s3 for the past few days, i was spiralling, it was bad.

this will be a long one, so settle in!

for me, regardless if this season was supposed to be a two parter or not, one thing that’s clear to me is that we were meant to watch this rupture in their relationship develop throughout the season.

listen, he was locked in that freezer for hours, and in those hours he spiraled beyond control. we can’t expect sydcarmy to have the same dynamic as the past seasons cause they’re not in the same place they were before. Carmy locked in the walk-in changed him and therefore, changed their dynamic too.

he promised syd in the first episode that he was never gonna leave her alone again, but in his fucked up mind, this means never let her make a solo decision when is comes to the menu, is having him make all the decisions himself and have the last say and change her every input. For him, this is how he honours his promise and for syd is how he makes her feel under appreciated and undermined.

he makes it look like it doesn’t matter what she does, as great as it is, he’ll always change it and make it about him. the decision of having her as a partner takes her by surprise cause they have never discussed it, he dumps all of these things on her, first thing in the morning, she can wrap her mind around the fact that’s that same guy she left a few hours before. He’s completely changed.

And though she tries to at least get on board and support his non-negotiables list and the menu changing every day and all the bullshit with richie, by “doors” she’s already exhausted of trying to keep up with him, tired of being his babysitter.

so when that new opportunity is presented to her, she actually considers it because it’s a way out of working in a stress free environment where she has full creative control to shape the new place as she sees fit (also the pay and benefits?? I’d be signing that shit right there lmao). It really is an incredible opportunity.

so yeah, i feel like we were meant to see how they crack under pressure and this was something chris storer had said in interviews before when talking about s2 on how hard it is to open a restaurant and keep it running once you do. he always wanted to explore the gritty stuff and I felt like he accomplished that in this season.

from a narrative standpoint, at some point we had to see syd and carmy’s partnership is put to test, we need to see what falling out to the point of almost no return looks for them in order to see how they are gonna find their way back to each other. and i can’t see a better time to do it than now.

it can feel hopeless, yes, and feel like they’re not gonna make it to the finish line, but let’s remember this is a story about finding new ways to reconnect to the things/ people you love, found family and generational trauma.

we see carmy is at his lowest, sydney is at her lowest, so logically the only way we can get to is up.

i believe that after carmy confronted his abusive boss, he had some sort of breakthrough from the way he sighed after their talk. i took it as his way of beginning to process his trauma.

as for sydney, we saw how deeply the idea of leaving has affected her, even though she knows is for a better place where her ideas will be respected and appreciated they way she knows it deserves. hopefully her panic attack will be enough to make her realize she needs help making the decision (if she can’t have her best friend and partner for this, then she’ll have her dad).

all of this to say that i am hopeful and excited to see what’s coming next year, and i truly believe sydcarmy is on the right path (this is a slow burn doing slow burn things ffs). We can’t let go just when things gets interesting. im dying to see their big fight, it’s something I’ve been needing since s2.

they’re still soulmates (after we saw the invisible string scene, there’s no going back) and they had significant scenes this season too, just not the way ppl thought it would be.

let’s have them work it out on the remix