#where 'everything to me' is at one end and like. 'big no' is at the other

[theemporium]

[6.1k] most of the league welcome a bye week as all-stars hits the season calendar. with both brothers picked and the rest of the boys on the team flying out somewhere warm for the break, luke has a decision to make. and that decision ends up being a staycation in new jersey with you—not that anyone else in his life really understand why. (smut)

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“Whoever is in charge of this schedule sounds like a sadist.”

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah!” You repeated with a small huff, staring down at your phone screen where—he presumed—you were looking at the Devils’ game schedule. “Surely there’s a better way than playing, like, three back to backs in such a short time span.” 

“It’s hockey,” Luke shrugged, like that somehow explained everything. “It’s just how it is. How it’s always been, to be honest.” 

“This makes no sense,” you grumbled, your eyes narrowed in distaste. “You literally played four games last week! Four! In the space of six days!” 

Luke snorted. “Yeah, Cherry, I’m fully aware. I was at the games. Playing.” 

You shot him a look before letting your brows furrowed in confusion. “I don’t get it.” 

“The schedule?” Luke asked. 

“No, the hockey player sex god stereotype,” you retorted. “How the hell do they find the time to even have sex? How the hell do they have the energy to even have sex?”

Luke tried—and mostly failed—to bite back his grin. “That’s your big question about hockey players?” 

“Yes,” you deadpanned. “I know you are professionals and all but surely this is a bit ridiculous.”

“Hockey is hockey,” Luke answered, shrugging once again. “It’s just always how it’s been.” 

“So, hockey players are sex gods and sadists,” you muttered to yourself, your focus back on your phone screen. “Good to know.” 

Luke only laughed in response. 

“I don’t get why they don’t just move some of the games to the first week in February,” you pointed out. “You have nothing on then.” 

“Because that’s when All-Stars is,” Luke answered. “They send a bunch of guys from different teams to compete in these challenges and stuff.” 

“Like the Hunger Games?” 

“I—” Luke’s nose scrunched up. “Yeah, but less death and violence. People usually stay nice for it.” 

“Have you been reaped?” You questioned, grinning a little. 

Luke rolled his eyes. “No, I have not. They choose the best.” 

You frowned. “You are the best. You’re the best hockey player I know.” 

Luke shot you a look. “I’m the only hockey player you know.” 

“Semantics,” you waved him off. “My point still stands.” 

“No, I get something better,” he stated. “I get a week off.”

You grinned. “Big plans?” 

Luke shrugged. “Honestly, I was just looking forward to a week without Jack banging on my door for morning skate.”

“So you’re going to spend the week hibernating,” you teased, lightly nudging his thigh with your foot. But before you could pull your foot back, Luke had grabbed your ankle and easily maneuvered your feet onto his lap. “God, I’ll need to find someone else to cook for me for a week then.” 

And the thing is that Luke knew you were just teasing. For all his claims of being a great cook (which he was, just in the few meals he actually knew how to cook), he had grown into a comfortable habit with you. He enjoyed spending time at your place. He enjoyed unwinding after bad games or grueling practices. He just enjoyed being around you, both before and after his recent realisation of his feelings. 

But now he was staring at you from across the couch, watching the way you were lounging in one of his old Michigan sweatshirts and just felt that overwhelming urge to say something stupid. 

Instead, he settled on, “you should come over.” 

You paused, raising your brows. “Come over where?” 

“To my place,” he said, feeling his cheeks heat up. “Jack will be gone and I’ll have the place to myself. We can just—” He paused, his brain going blank at the sight of your amused expression. “Chill.” 

“Chill?” You repeated, grinning.

“Chill,” he nodded, squeezing your ankle. “Just…I feel like…I’m always imposing in your space, you know? You can impose in my space too.” 

“You are a weird guy, Hughes,” you commented, though Luke liked to think you sounded fond when you spoke. 

“Is that a no?” He asked before he could help himself.

You beamed in response. “It’s not a no.” 

He felt something quite like hope spark in his chest. “So, it’s a yes?” 

“Depends,” your eyes glinted. “Are you still Team Stefan? Because if the answer is yes, I will have to decline.” 

Luke groaned. “I said that after we watched, like, three episodes! Stop holding that over my head!” 

…

“This sucks!” 

“Yes, it sucks so much being acknowledged for your skills,” Dawson deadpanned, watching the way Jack wandered around the locker room after practice, whining and complaining about everyone else making their Bye Week plans.

“You know that’s not what I meant,” Jack huffed, narrowing his eyes at the boy before shifting his attention to Nico, eyes wide and hopeful. “Take me with you? I want to go somewhere warm. I want to go somewhere where the chances of freezing my balls off are lower than zero.” 

“Dude,” Nate scrunched his nose, laughing. “We play ice hockey for a living, you can handle a bit of cold.” 

“Suck it up, superstar,” Curtis called out with a huge grin. “Gotta pay up for having the Hughes name on the back of your jersey.” 

“Moose lucked out,” Jack sighed. “I have Quinn and the bajillion Canucks players that are also going. I swear he rigged the thing.”

“Bajillion?” Nico repeated with a disgustingly fond expression.

“Bajillion,” Jack nodded. “There’s too many of them. No one needs that many Canucks in one place. It’s an infestation.”

“I’m surprised you even know what that word means,” Nate snorted. 

Jack glared. 

“You not going up to Toronto to support your brothers?” Dawson asked, turning his head to look over at Luke. However, the boy barely reacted. He repeated the question again, and one more time before finally throwing a ball of rolled up tape at the side of Luke’s head.

Luke tore his eyes away from his phone, snapping his head up to find half the locker room already staring at him. “What? What did I miss?” 

“Jack complaining about All Stars,” Curtis answered.

“Oh,” Luke blinked. “So nothing new then?” 

“You're not going to Toronto?” Nico asked this time, before Curtis could say whatever witty response he had ready to go.

“Uh, no,” Luke shook his head. 

“Scared you’ll steal their thunder?” Nate joked, patting Luke’s shoulder as he walked past to get to his stall. 

Jack snorted. “He thinks he’s too cool for Toronto. Probably following John to wherever the hell he is going.” 

John’s ears perked, turning whilst he was still removing some of his gear. “What? Luke said he didn’t want to come with us.” 

Jack paused, frowning a little before turning to Luke. “You’re not going away for the week?” 

Luke could feel his cheeks burning up. “No?” 

Jack’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. 

“At least he also won’t be somewhere warm,” Nico stepped in, a hand on Jack’s shoulder providing more than enough distraction from Jack asking questions as he turned to look at Nico with the embarrassingly obvious heart eyes he has always had for the captain.

It gave Luke the short reprieve he wanted, avoiding the other curious looks he was getting as he glanced down at his phone screen for a moment, grinning at the messages before he locked it and put it back in his bag so he could finish getting changed.

cherry🍒: i hope you know that i am using this opportunity to steal as many of your hoodies as i can before the week is over 

cherry🍒: consider this your one and only warning

…

It was surprisingly easy to prevent Jack from asking any more questions. 

A little too easy, if Luke was being honest. 

But Luke was also not an idiot so he didn’t question Jack’s silence after he mentioned a friend would be staying with Luke for the week. Jack had just stared blankly for a few moments before laughing, shaking his head and walking out the room, muttering something about needing to stop by Nico’s after he finished packing. Luke took it as the blessing it was and didn’t bring it up again.

Truthfully, it didn’t hit Luke how insane it felt to have you with him the whole week until he was running around the apartment, cleaning up whatever he could before his phone began ringing from the other room.

“Dude, you have shit timing.” 

Ethan laughed on the other side of the phone. “You’ve been ignoring me! I feel abandoned. What happened to the Luke who said he missed me?” 

“I never said that,” Luke retorted.

“Rude,” Ethan huffed. “Why do you sound so out of breath? Were you training or something?” 

“Nah, just tidying the place up,” Luke replied absentmindedly, staring at the hoodie he picked up on the floor with a frown. If he was being honest, he didn’t know if it was his or Jack’s, and usually he didn’t care. But the image of you wearing it thinking it belonged to him when in reality it was Jack’s passed his mind and he quickly shoved it into the washing basket. That would be a problem he dealt with later.

“Ugh, don’t even,” Ethan whined on the other side of the phone. “I’m so jealous, dude. I would kill to be on a beach somewhere right now.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Luke muttered as he continued to pick up a few empty bottles of gatorade on the coffee table before pausing. “Wait, what? What the fuck are you on about? Who’s going to the beach?” 

Ethan sounded just as confused on the other side. “You?” 

“No, I’m not?” Luke replied, frowning. “I just told you, I’m at my place.” 

“Yeah, because you are tidying up before you fly out somewhere. For Bye Week.”

“Who told you that?”

“I thought it was obvious? Why the fuck would you not be flying out somewhere?” 

And honestly, Luke didn’t have much of a comeback for that one. Because to everyone else, it did seem weird. He knew that. He gathered as much from the rest of the boys’ reactions in the locker room the other day. He gathered it from Jack’s reaction and Quinn’s message (‘wtf rusty’) when he broke the news in the brothers group chat. 

He knew. 

But somehow trying to justify it to one of his best friends over the phone made him realise how fucking dodgy it sounded when none of them really knew about you.

“So, let me get this straight.” 

Luke let out a deep sigh.

“You declined on going up to Toronto with your brothers because you didn’t want to impose, or whatever dumb shit you said, and let them enjoy All-Stars.” 

“Yes.” 

“And then you had the offer to go to Cabo and the Bahamas with teammates, which you also declined.” 

“Mhm.” 

“And then you decided to stay in New Jersey instead of even visiting us up in Michigan with your week off?” 

“Yup.”

“Dude,” Ethan squawked, offended and confused and downright discombobulated. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Do you have a concussion? Is this like a mid-season breakdown? Do I need to call for help?” 

Luke rolled his eyes. “You’re always so dramatic.”

“I think I am being perfectly reasonable here.” 

Luke disagreed—majorly—but he valued his life so he stayed silent.

“You’re gonna get so bored staying in Jersey all week,” Ethan pointed out. “What are you even gonna do?” 

Luke opened his mouth to reply just as the buzzer sounded through the apartment. If anyone asked, he would deny the way his face instantly broke out into a smile. 

“Sleep my ass off. It’s hard being in the NHL,” Luke said in the snobbiest voice he could, letting Ethan cackle on the other side and try to get another word in before he spoke up again. “Look, I gotta run, I’ll call you later. Promise.” 

“He plays in the big leagues and thinks he’s so much better than us.” 

“I am better than you,” Luke grinned. “I remember winning beer pong.” 

“That doesn’t fucking count! Mark was the one who—” 

“Bye, Ethan!” 

Luke couldn’t hang up and rush to open the door fast enough. 

…

Deep down, he knew it was stupid for him to feel nervous about you staying over at his place for the week. 

He had stayed over at yours more times than he could count on one hand. You had become an integral part of his life in New Jersey. You were one of his closest friends. He knew you. He knew you knew him. There should have been nothing that made the week weird. 

But he couldn’t help but feel like it meant more. This was him inviting you to stay over for a few days, to stay at his place whilst his brother was out of town, to spend the week with him when he should be resting and drinking some overpriced cocktail on a beach somewhere warm. 

You were his friend but spending his whole stay-cation with him in his apartment like the two of you were playing house was something far from platonic. 

It was a bit of a mindfuck, but not as much as realising just how fucking easy it all was.

It was different from the various nights he spent at your apartment. It was different seeing you in his space, fitting into his life so easily. It was different seeing you relaxed and laid back, looking like you belonged. 

It was different from the night at his birthday party, where you were one of many faces. It was just you and him, standing in his kitchen or sitting on his couch or lying in his bed. It felt so different but so fucking good. 

Only a few days had passed and yet Luke forgot a time where you weren’t here, where you weren’t by his side throughout the whole day. 

It was dangerous but the warning signs were easy to ignore when his attention was fully focused on you.

“Are you calling me lanky?” 

“It was a compliment!” You insisted, but there was a smile on your face—not that he could see, considering your face was currently pressed against his chest as the two of you laid on the couch to watch the fastest skater skill event. “You would do well in this challenge. It would take you, like, five less strides than the rest of them.”

Luke snorted. “Geez, thanks.” 

“You’ll see,” you murmured, nuzzling your head further into his chest. “You’ll do it one day and win and know that I’m right.”

“And then you’ll tell me ‘I told you so’?” Luke guessed, his eyes now on you rather than the tv screen. 

“Obviously,” you replied, lifting your head so your chin was resting on the spot your cheek was squished against moments ago. “I’m always right, Hughes. The sooner you accept that fact, the easier your life will be.” 

Luke raised his brows in amusement. “So when you very confidently said that you loved that movie where Andrew Garfield played Batman—” 

“Shut up,” you groaned, lightly pinching his side but he quickly caught your hand. “We were watching Twilight! I was thinking about Robert Pattinson! I got confused!” 

“Uh huh,” Luke beamed. “Just always so right—”

“You’re being a dick,” you huffed, even if you were smiling. “Here I was trying to give you a compliment—”

“By calling me lanky.”

“—and this is the thanks I get,” you shook your head. 

Luke’s expression softened, his hand reaching up to tuck some hair behind your ear as he smiled down at you. “Thank you, Cherry. I appreciate the confidence.” 

“Confidence is sexy,” you retorted, your palms warm and comforting against his sides. “Soon you won’t need me to remind you.” 

“But I like when you say it,” Luke retorted.

“Professional athletes and their praise kinks,” you sighed, grinning a little when he reached down to pinch your side this time. 

“I’m the only professional athlete you know,” Luke pointed out, trying to ignore the twist in his stomach at the mere idea that maybe he wasn’t. That maybe you knew more, that maybe you had experience with more, that maybe they were far more experienced than him and—

“And you have a praise kink,” you said, interrupting his spiralling thoughts. “Therefore, my theory has not been disproved. I’m right.”

Luke’s cheeks burned hot. “I do not have a praise kink.”

You snorted, grinning as you lifted a hand to playfully squeeze his cheeks. “Aw, baby, you do and it’s hot. Don’t get all shy about it.”

“Whatever,” Luke murmured, turning his focus back to the tv instead of the growing smirk on your face. 

But the thought lingered in his mind even as the two of you continued to cuddle on the couch, watching whatever movie you had chosen after the All-Stars events ended. It picked at his brain, chipping away at the self-restraint he had to keep his mouth shut for the rest of the night until the two of you were getting ready for bed. 

He was lingering by the doorway, watching you get your side of the bed (because apparently that was also something that came easily to the two of you) ready before you climbed into bed. And before he could stop himself, he was already blurting out the words that were on the tip of his tongue for most of the night.

“Do you really think the praise kink thing is hot?” 

His cheeks were already blushy and pink and hot when you turned your head to look at him.

“How long have you been wanting to ask that?” You asked, something lighthearted and teasing in your voice that was oddly reassuring. You didn’t think he was a freak for asking. Not that he ever assumed you would judge him, you both were far from that point. 

“Does it change your answer?” He asked, not sounding half as confident as he wanted to. 

Your smile softened a little as you walked around the bed and towards him. You tilted your head back once you were in front of him, watching him with a look he couldn’t quite work out. 

Luke swallowed a little.

“It doesn’t change my answer,” you answered honestly. 

Luke could feel something in his chest tighten. “And what’s your answer?” 

“I think it’s hot,” you told him, saying it so casually as though the two of you were discussing the weather. “I think everyone has a praise kink to some extent but…”

Luke could feel his heart pounding in his chest. “But?” 

“But it’s different with you,” you said, your fingers lightly skimming against his stomach before curling around the hem of his shirt. “You’re so…responsive. It’s hot.” 

His body twitched, like his skin was too tight for his body. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” you confirmed, smiling a little before using the grasp on his shirt to tug him closer and close the distance between you both. Not that there was much.

Luke was almost embarrassed by the noise he made the second your lips were on his, your hands fisting the fabric of his shirt as you used the leverage against him. He ducked his head down, trying to chase your lips as you continued to tease him and tempt him. He barely realised his feet were moving until the back of your knees hit the bed and you pulled back to look at him. 

“So pretty,” you murmured, close enough to hear the way his breath hitched before you moved down onto the bed, with your grasp on his shirt enough to drag him down with you. 

It was far from sexy, if Luke was being honest. An awkward maneuver of too many limbs and shuffling up the bed that should have ruined the moment, but it didn’t. Because it was you and you were laughing and smiling and snorting when Luke almost decked it on top of you after he got his foot stuck. You made it feel so normal. Like it was all just a part of the charm. 

Maybe it was. Maybe feeling safe enough to be human and imperfect was a part of the charm. 

Because despite the uncoordinated and clumsy scrambling onto the bed, you were still looking at him like you wanted to see how pink his cheeks could turn.

Luke barely put up a fight when you pulled him back down, happily following your movements as he settled between your legs and let you wind your arms around his neck so his nose was brushing against yours before you leaned in to kiss him again. 

Unlike a lot of the other makeout sessions the two of you had, there was no rush. There was no lingering adrenaline from a game he wanted to work off or some bad plays he wanted to forget. There were no teasing messages or risky phone calls that were building up to this moment. There was absolutely nothing but just the two of you lying in his bed, making out because you wanted to. 

Because you wanted to kiss him and he wanted to kiss you. Because you enjoyed the weight of him on top of you and he enjoyed the way your fingers entangled themselves in his curls. Because for reasons that were beyond his understanding, you wanted this as much as he did.

“Fuck,” he muttered against your lips, his tongue lightly skimming over the area of his bottom lip you nipped with your teeth.

You smiled up at him. “See? So responsive. It’s cute.” 

He swallowed. “Cute?”

“Cute, hot, sexy, whatever word you want to use, pretty boy,” you murmured, one hand sliding down to cup his face as your thumb skimmed over the apple of his cheek. “All I know is that I like the noises you make.” 

Luke responded by leaning back down, kissing you because he could, because he wanted to, because he liked the way your laugh vibrated against his lips before you kissed back.

But whatever control Luke thought he had on himself when he was with you quickly dwindled as you pulled him closer, letting his body fall on top of you and let your thighs squeeze his sides until he was rocking his hips against yours, until he was practically panting between kisses.

“Mmm,” you hummed, pressing one, two, three pecks against his lips before your lips traced along his cheek and down his jaw. “That’s it, baby. I can feel how much you like this. S’cute how worked up you get just making out.”

“You’re hot,” he gasped out, like it was self-explanatory. Like it justified why he could feel his dick twitching in his sweatpants, probably already making a mess that he would pretend didn’t embarrass him as much as it did.

Your smile was softer, your hand on his face feeling more intimate as you guided his eyes to meet yours. “I think,” you started, your thumb lightly tracing down his cheek and skimming his bottom lip. “You’re hot too. And that you can come like this. Make a mess f’me.” 

And fuck, he could.

It wouldn’t be the first time he did, helplessly grinding against you whilst you kissed him and praised him and made his head fucking spin before he was coming harder than he really should be able to from a simple act. He could lean down, press his lips against yours and slide his tongue against yours and feel the way you cling onto him as he comes. He could do it. 

But there was a buzzing voice in the back of his head, getting louder and louder until—

“I bought condoms.” 

He could see the initial surprise on your face as you processed the words he just blurted out, the eyes locked on his kiss-swollen lips shifting to look up and watch the way he squirmed under the realisation of his words. He watched the way you tucked your bottom lip between your teeth, eyes narrowing slightly like you were observing him, keeping on edge until he spoke.

“You bought condoms,” you repeated, trying and failing to keep the smile off your face. “Big plans for this week?” 

“I—” Luke’s face burned. “That wasn’t… didn’t mean…I was just—” 

“Luke,” you said in a softer voice, your smile faltering a little into something more sincere. “M’only teasing.” 

“Okay,” he whispered, a knot twisting in his stomach with every passing second. He swore he was moments away from just exploding out of pure embarrassment or something just as humiliating. 

“Breathe for me,” you murmured, smiling a little when he let out a shaky breath. “We don’t have to, if you don’t want to. Just because you bought them, doesn’t mean we have to do anything with them just yet.”

Luke swallowed, his whole body thrumming as he replied. “I…I want to.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” he nodded, his brows furrowing slightly. “Only if you want to, too. Because consent is sexy, you know.”

You laughed a little, both hands now cupping his face so your eyes could meet his. “I do, if you want this. If you’re ready.” 

“It is,” he whispered, nodding again. “I trust you, Cherry. I want this. With you.” 

“Okay,” you whispered before kissing him again, slow and sure and content. 

It made him feel a little less like his skin was shrinking all over his body.

And you kept kissing him until his body didn’t feel so tense, until he didn’t feel like a wooden plank on top of you, until he was relaxed and making those little noises between kisses that let you know he wasn’t as nervous as before. 

You kept kissing him as you lightly nudged him back, letting him lean back on his knees until he was straddling your body, giving him enough movement to lean over and scramble through his nightstand until he found the unopened box of condoms.

He tried to tear the plastic covering over the box off, tried to peel it away but his hands were shaking more than he liked and his heart was pounding in his chest and—

“Hey, relax,” you murmured softly, sitting up and taking the box from his hands with little fight from him.

“Sorry,” he mumbled with a sheepish smile. “Nerves, I guess.”

“It’s okay,” you promised. “You know we can stop at any time, just say the word.” 

He swallowed harshly. “No, I do—”

“I know,” you smiled. “But I also want you to know that.” 

“Only if you do too,” Luke responded, looking completely serious as he said it. “If you want to stop at any moment too, you have to say something too. I don’t want you to feel like you have to do this with me because it’s my…first time or whatever.”

“I promise,” you smiled before nudging him back, until he was settled with his back against the headboard and you were on his lap. “Don’t worry about the condoms right now, okay? Just focus on me.” 

And Luke did.

Because, in complete honesty, it was very easy to ignore the box of condoms and the bubbling nerves and the growing realisation of what was about to happen. The voice in the back of his head saying ‘oh fuck, this is it’ was barely a whisper when his focus was on you. 

It was easy to get lost in the familiarity of you. He was used to this. He was used to you sitting on his lap, straddling his thighs and kissing him senseless. He was used to you dragging your shirt over your head and throwing it to the side. He was used to you tugging his sweatpants down and letting your own follow and guiding his hand between your legs whilst you whispered filthy things against his lips. 

He was used to the way you always targeted the spot just behind his ear, blowing cool air until he physically shivered. He was used to the way your eyes fluttered shut when his thumb lightly skimmed across your nipple. He was used to choking out a breathless moan whenever your thumb slid along the slit on the head of his cock. He was used to the way you tugged on his hair when you were close, letting the dull pain throb wonderfully at the base of his skull whilst you pressed your face against his shoulder. 

You were right, all those weeks ago back at the start of the season, when you said he needed to build up to this moment. You were right about the different experiences and experiments the two of you had tried and tested over the last few months. You were right when you said it was just like practicing hockey. 

It felt a bit fucking poetic and pathetic to compare his sex life to hockey right now, but he got it. 

The same nerves that bubbled up before his first NHL game were no different. Because even though he had played hockey his whole life, it still felt nerve-wracking to play in the NHL. And even though he had spent the last few months doing so much with you, it was still kind of daunting to know it was all leading up to this.

But just like his first NHL game, it just felt right. 

You felt right. 

This whole moment felt right. 

Luke knew he was not like his friends or teammates. He had spent years growing up with locker room talk, hearing about random hookups in the backseat of a car or halfhearted blowjobs in a bar bathroom. He heard about one night stands and casual flings and situationships that tended to go sour. He had heard it all and it was unsettling to imagine that was the future waiting for him. 

But it wasn’t. 

And it felt a bit comforting to know that he never had to look back on this experience and regret the person he was with or where he was or whatever stupid risk it could cause his career. All he had to think about was him and you and the way you were looking just as affected and turned on as he was right now.

“You still sure?” You whispered, soft and comforting and so fucking caring, it made his throat feel a little tight. 

“Yeah,” he nodded, smiling a little as he leaned in to kiss you again to emphasise his point. “I trust you. I want this with you.” 

You smiled, still looking so fucking genuine before you leaned over to grab the box of condoms, removing the plastic peel with an ease he was only slightly jealous of. He watched you grab a small foil packet, glancing at him every few seconds like you were waiting for him to jump back on his decision.

“I trust you,” he repeated, confident and sure. 

His hands laid on your legs as you tore open the foil packet. His hands squeezed the fat of your thighs as you rolled the condom on him, stroking him a few times until he was bucking into your touch. His hands were on your waist, supportive and guiding as you slowly sunk down onto his cock. 

“Shit,” Luke breathed out, his breath shaky and gasping. “Shit.”

“I’ve got you,” you whispered, one hand on his shoulder and the other gripping the back of his neck. “I—fuck—I’ve got you.”

The squeeze of your walls around his cock made him want to close his eyes. It made him want to lean back against the headboard, keep his eyes closed and fucking bask in the feeling of you being so warm and tight and intense around him. But the desire to watch the way his cock disappeared into you was stronger, to watch the way your eyes fluttered shut and your lips parted as you settled fully on his lap. 

It was fucking memesiring watching the way you slowly lifted your hips and sunk down again. It made him feel like his head was spinning as he watched you continued to move, to sink up and down on his cock, to fuck yourself on his cock and moan his name and look into his eyes and—

“Can I—” He cut himself off, a pathetic and whiny noise leaving his lips when you squeezed around him. “Can I please—”

“Whatever you want,” you murmured, breathless and panting as you leaned in to kiss him like you needed it.

He let himself enjoy the kiss, to enjoy the feeling of being inside you and the weight of you on his lap and your lips on his before he moved. Before he reminded his brain that he can move, that he didn’t have to feel so boneless and helpless, as he shifted until the two of you had rolled over and you were beneath him and—

“Oh fuck,” you moaned, loud and shameless as he hooked an arm under your knee, lifting your leg out of the way enough for him to thrust back in as your head feel back against the pillow. “Shit, yes, like that.” 

For a second, it was hard to remember he was even in his own body as he watched you. It was fucking mesmerising as he watched you moan and whine beneath him, as he felt your nails digging into his skin and scratching down his back as you demanded him for more, as you muttered his name between pleas and begs and whimpers. 

Luke kind of wished this moment would last forever. 

Unfortunately for him, he was utterly weak when it came to you. Because you were pretty and sweet and you felt fucking unreal around him, and you were looking at him like he fucking meant something and—

It was so much. Too much. Just fucking enough. 

“I can’t—” He gasped out, his whole body feeling like it was buzzing alive as the knot in his stomach twisted tighter and his thrusts became sloppier. “I’m not gonna last long—”

“Come for me,” you breathed out, your hands cupping his cheeks as you wound your legs around his waist. “C’mon, Luke, wanna feel you come in me.” 

And well, he stood no fucking chance lasting after you said that to him.

He could have sworn his ears were ringing when he came. It was intense and overwhelming and disorienting and, fuck, it felt so good. He could feel his muscles tensing, his body rigid and shaking as his orgasm washed over him. He could feel the wave of pleasure rushing through him, leaving every fucking nerve in his body buzzing as he let himself enjoy the way you were squeezing him around him.

He felt like he was on cloud nine when you ran your hands through his curls, your lips against his ear whispering god knows what. But your voice was low and humming and comforting and he could feel his eyes slipping close to enjoy the sound of it. 

He could feel you running your hands over his body, feel the way every inch of skin was pressed against you, feel the way your legs were tightening around him like you didn’t want him to move just yet either. 

After the rush of adrenaline and pleasure, his body felt syrupy. His movements felt slow and unhurried, his thoughts felt like they were floating away. His brain felt fuzzy and pleased and content to just lay on the bed with you, bask in the feeling a little longer before the grossness and desire to clean up took over. 

Luke was more than happy to nuzzle his face into the crook of your neck, to close his eyes and let out a happy sigh and let himself relax after the really intense last few minutes the two of you had just experienced.

And if Luke was more awake, he would have noticed the way you tensed up the second he spoke. The way your eyes widened, the way your body instantly locked up, the way you went a little pale. 

If Luke was more awake, he would have been able to think twice before he spoke. 

But Luke wasn’t awake. He fell asleep after muttering the one thought that had been on his mind since New Years. 

He closed his eyes and slept like a fucking baby and woke up to an empty bed and an empty apartment and not a single sign of proof of the night before except the marks on his skin and the used condom lying on his bedroom floor. 

“I think I’m in love with you,” he had slurred into the crook of your neck, his voice barely louder than a rumble as the sleepiness really hit. 

If Luke was more awake, he would have stopped himself from completely fucking everything up. 

.

[llamagoddessofficial]

Ok ok ok. Bear with me. aka-indulgence indulged (lol) my whims too much and kept giving me good ideas. Now my mind is whirring.

Bad guys Mafia AU, where Nightmare is the big boss, as per usual. However... secretly, Nightmare has been going undercover in the police force, using his shapeshifting powers to pose as a softspoken by-the-book skeleton monster who likes paperwork and does what he's told. He's VERY deep undercover, quietly working his way up the internal ranks, giving himself access to more and more important information like evidence and arrest records. 'Eos' (thank you @owl-bones for being great with names) is boring, hard working, devoted to his 9-5 desk job. Eos hates conflict and action and doesn't even know how to turn off the safety on a gun. Eos is so non-confrontational people barely remember his name or that he's there. Eos goes totally under the radar.

... Then, while undercover... he meets you. A plucky assistant, with big dreams of being a detective. He's suddenly unexpectedly smitten. Despite the 'boring' persona he's put on, he finds his affections clearly returned. You and Eos start up an extremely cute will-they-won't-they, an adorable office romance where the two of you gradually open up to each other. He finds out about your passion for bringing the rich and powerful to justice. You find out about his love of classical music.

Of course, in the meantime, you're trying to investigate this big scary 'Nightmare' guy. Perhaps you even sneak your way into one of his functions, much to Eos' dismay, determined to dig up dirt and bring down the unjust elite. Perhaps you end up having a one-on-one conversation with Nightmare... where you discover that (to your horror) Nightmare is clearly attracted to you. Even worse - you're attracted to him. The two of you have incredible chemistry like nothing you've ever felt. Nightmare is dangerous, seductive, evil, but you absolutely can't get enough of him. He's everything you tell yourself you're not allowed to want.

For you, it's a dramatic life-or-death love triangle. You're trapped between two sides of yourself; there's the safe and loving but 'boring' Eos, who represents a steady but unglamorous future. And then there's Nightmare, wealth and power, the monster that brings out the side of you no one else can. Eos loves you, but Nightmare knows you.

Nightmare? He's having the time of his life. He's found someone who loves him in all his forms, old and new. He gets the best of both worlds. Now, to find a way to bring you into the fold...

[httpswritings]

Lost On You

alexia putellas x realmadrid!reader and misa rodriguez x realmadrid!reader (as friends)

This story contains unrealistic plots (you'll know which ones I'm referring to as you read throughout the story) and it doesn't have a closed happy ending for ale/reader but it does have a cute ending for misa and reader's friendship.

It’s still a blur how it all happened, but somehow, you caught the attention of a Real Madrid scout. The memory feels hazy, like a dream you can’t quite piece together.

Almost three years ago, you walked Misa, your lifelong friend, to one of her training sessions. You were always early—your fear of being late to anything saw to that—and that day was no exception. With time to kill, Misa insisted you join her for a bit until her session started. She grabbed a ball and nudged you to take a few shots, claiming it would help her warm up.

“This isn’t fair. You know I’m terrible at this, Mimi,” you protested, shaking your head.

“So what? You’re here with me. We’ve got, like, forty-five minutes to kill,” she replied, grinning.

“No, you have forty-five minutes until training. This isn’t exactly my thing,” you shot back, though your resolve was already crumbling.

You could never say no to her, especially when she looked at you with those dark brown eyes. Misa was three years older than you, but she’d always been your rock. She was your protector—through school, through high school, through everything. No one dared mess with you because they knew Misa and her friends would have your back.

There were only two times anyone tried to tease you, both involving girls who thought they were bold enough. Both times, it took just one of your tears for Misa to lose her temper. She got expelled twice—once for each girl—and she never once regretted it. That’s just who she was: fiercely loyal, always protective, and endlessly caring, like the big sister you never had.

So, of course, you gave in. You took the ball from her hands, laughing as she bounced on her toes with excitement. Her Canarian accent always thickened when she got worked up, and you couldn’t help but think it sounded even more beautiful than usual.

In the background, unbeknownst to you, a Real Madrid agent had been watching.

You’d never played football before. Growing up, you were too afraid of being judged, of people labeling you as something you weren’t. The fear of being seen as "too masculine" or "lesbian" kept you on the sidelines, even though you secretly loved the sport. You only ever allowed yourself to enjoy it from a distance, never daring to join in, even during playground games. And even if you had wanted to, you knew your parents couldn’t afford to pay for football lessons.

It was Misa’s passion for the game, along with your own journey towards the acceptance of your lesbianism, that slowly helped you feel more comfortable with yourself. But by then, it was too late to learn—you had no idea how to play.

That’s why, when you took the ball and Misa urged you to take a few shots, you missed all three attempts. Both of you burst into laughter, treating it as nothing more than a silly game to pass the time. But just as you were about to leave, a woman approached you.

She introduced herself as Sara and began asking questions—your name, where you played, what position you were in. At first, you and Misa thought it was a joke. After all, Sara had just witnessed your disastrous technique. You played along, teasingly telling her you were Misa’s biggest rival, both of you laughing at the absurdity of it.

But then Sara started asking more specific questions, and it dawned on you that she was serious. You quickly apologized for joking and admitted the truth: you’d never played football before.

To your surprise, Sara didn’t seem fazed. She insisted on scheduling an appointment to see more of you. You had no idea why she was so interested, but Misa’s piercing stare made it clear that refusing wasn’t an option. Denying the request would’ve driven her crazy, so for the sake of your friend, you reluctantly agreed.

At the appointment, Sara closely analyzed your movements. You felt completely out of place, convinced this had to be some kind of elaborate joke you weren’t in on. You struggled to keep up—missing the ball, running out of breath quickly, and looking utterly lost most of the time. It was embarrassing, to say the least.

A few days later, Sara asked you to come back. That’s when she dropped the bombshell: she wanted to sign you to Real Madrid. She made it clear that you’d be starting from scratch, and it would take years of hard work to even dream of making it to the first team. But she believed in you—enough to set an ambitious goal: she wanted you to debut by the age of twenty-two. Surprisingly, you managed to do it a year earlier.

Your playing time was limited, especially in high-stakes matches. Sara was cautious about putting you under too much pressure too soon. Real Madrid’s women’s team wasn’t a powerhouse, and she wanted to shield you from the weight of failure. That’s why you didn’t play in the Copa de la Reina final, where Real Madrid came agonizingly close to winning their first title, only to lose to Atletico de Madrid. You also sat out the matches against FC Barcelona, and honestly, you were grateful for it. You watched Barça evolve, seeing the names of players who came and went: Lieke Martens, Jenni Hermoso, Asisat Oshoala, Aitana, Patri, Graham, Pinà… and Alexia.

Since entering the world of women’s football, you’d studied Alexia closely. She was the epitome of perfection—a relentless winner with an insatiable hunger for success. Her passion for the game was unmatched, and it drove everything she did.

To your astonishment, you were called up for a few friendly matches ahead of the World Cup. It was your chance to prove how far you’d come. Your improved physique and growing understanding of the game shone through, and after a standout performance, you earned your spot on the World Cup roster.

Your inclusion raised eyebrows. You’d only played two matches with the National team and had limited experience with Real Madrid’s first team, mostly featuring in their youth categories. But you were determined to make the most of the opportunity.

During the first training session, you stuck to Misa’s side like glue. You’d already met Jenni and Laia during the friendly matches, and they’d been incredibly supportive. But Alexia was a different story. She arrived late, still recovering from a long-term injury, but she was ready for the World Cup.

The first time you saw her, it felt like witnessing a celestial being. Her bright pink hair framed her face, and her eyes seemed to light up the room. She was warm and approachable as she introduced herself.

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” she said, glancing at her teammates with a smile.

Your cheeks burned red. Misa, standing beside you, bit her lip to keep from laughing out loud. She knew all about your crush on Alexia, and she wasn’t about to let you live it down.

Alexia was an absolute sweetheart, always going out of her way to help you. She became so invested in you that she couldn’t help the feelings that began to grow. The tournament ended with your victory over England, and you scored the most crucial goal of the match. Over time, you and Alexia grew so close that the thought of returning to your separate lives filled you both with anxiety. Fortunately, you had one last chance to spend time together—the trip to Ibiza—and you made the most of every moment.

Afterward, you returned to your routine: striving to improve at Real Madrid B, focusing on your studies, and catching glimpses of Alexia whenever your paths crossed during national team camps.

You watched FC Barcelona thrive, and a pang of envy crept in, wishing you could one day celebrate such victories with your own team.

As time passed, you turned twenty-two, sitting on the bench as your team suffered yet another defeat in El Clásico. What hurt the most was seeing Misa’s disappointment. Your body ached to step onto the pitch, but your mind held you back..

It wasn’t until Spain’s Supercopa final, with your team trailing by three goals and forty-five minutes still on the clock, that something inside you snapped. You didn’t know what came over you, but you stood up, driven by an unshakable determination. You practically begged your coach to let you on the pitch, to at least try to lessen the blow, even if it meant losing by just one goal.

Alexia watched as you prepared to step in, and her heart ached. She thrived on Real Madrid’s defeats, but the hatred she held for the team paled in comparison to the love she felt for you. Her mind was set on scoring, even if it was just once, but her heart wanted to pull you off the field. She wanted to humiliate Real Madrid, not you. To her, you were different—you always had been.

When you were subbed in, you delivered a stunning performance, scoring and assisting to help your team clinch their first title. It was a wild, unforgettable display, fueled by your desire to see Misa succeed. It was an unusual philosophy, but Misa was everything to you in football. Even as you wore the Real Madrid badge on your chest, right on top of the area of your heart, where Alexia belonged, Misa was the one who dominated your thoughts. You had stood by her side through every defeat, every heartbreak, every moment when the weight of the game seemed too heavy to bear. Each loss had carved a little piece out of you, not because you were the one on the field, but because you felt her pain as if it were your own. She was more than just your best friend—she was your closest friend.

But this time was different. This time, you weren’t just watching her fight—you were watching her soar. The cup gleamed in her hands, a symbol of everything she had worked for, everything she had sacrificed. The smile on her face wasn’t just one of victory; it was one of triumph over every doubt, every setback, every moment when the world had tried to tell her she wasn’t enough. And as you stood there, watching her bask in the glory of her hard-earned success, you felt a surge of pride so overwhelming it brought tears to your eyes.

This was everything. This was the moment you had been waiting for, not for yourself, but for her. You had seen the sleepless nights, the endless training sessions, the quiet moments when she questioned if it was all worth it. And now, as she lifted the cup high, her laughter ringing out like music, you knew it was. Every drop of sweat, every tear, every ounce of pain had led her here, to this pinnacle of joy.

You caught sight of Alexia’s sad expression, and it weighed heavily on you. You moved closer, but she stopped you, forcing a small, fake smile and telling you to celebrate your victory and enjoy the moment.

In that moment, as she lost and you won, she felt like she had lost you too. She had lost herself in you, and now, in defeat, she was determined to find herself again. But rediscovering herself meant letting you go. She had to lose you to find who she was.

[channiesbakery]

fan account —

prompt / request — minghao finds your old fan account, and finds out that it wasn’t for him

pairing — fan!reader + boyfriend!minghao

word count — 923

genre — fluff

when you and minghao first started dating, you’d mentioned that you had a fan account before meeting him. you’d asked him if he wanted to see it but he declined and it never really came up again.

until today.

you’re just on your couch, peacefully reading your book when your usually calm boyfriend barges into the apartment.

“babe, we need to talk,” minghao states and you sit up, thinking it was a serious conversation.

“is everything okay?” you ask, seeing the serious look on his face. “no! nothing is okay! how could you!” minghao exclaims and now you’re really worried, trying to figure out what you’d done.

“what exactly did i do…” you trail off, not able to think of anything you’d done wrong recently. unless he was mad that you didn’t put the laundry away immediately or make the bed as neatly this morning. you knew your boyfriend liked everything to be neat and tidy but surely he couldn’t be this mad about that.

“i was just peacefully scrolling on my instagram explore page today when a certain fan account popped up,” minghao starts to explain, pacing the room a little.

“they posted a nice photo spread of my photo cards with a pretty tea set so i decided to stalk their page–”

“you stalk your fan’s accounts?” you raise an eyebrow, cutting him off. “i like to see my fan’s creativity. that’s not the point! anyways, i realize that this entire account is pretty much 90% dedicated to hoshi,” minghao says.

“and what’s worse is that i continued scrolling through it to find a photo of you! my girlfriend!” he exclaims.

“wait, this is why you’re upset? because you found my old fan account? babe, i told you about this when we started dating and i even asked if you wanted to see it,” you remind him.

“I’m not upset about the account. I’m upset that it’s dedicated to kwon soonyoung!” your boyfriend clarifies and you can’t help but be amused.

“seriously? it’s not that big a deal, babe. i has that account before we started dating– hell, before we even met,” you shrug, picking your book back up.

“okay but why hoshi?” he practically whines. “he was my bias back then–”

“he was your what?!” minghao gasps. “you biased hoshi? kwon soonyoung? hoshi?” he just stares at you.

“jealous?” you tease. “you biased him? your bias is a furry!” minghao gapes at you. “why did you even have so many photo cards of his,” he asks.

“okay it wasn’t my fault i always ended up pulling his photo cards in albums,” you shrug. “you should’ve sold them. and bought mine instead,” minghao states, his expression dead serious.

“aren’t you the one who tells your fans not to buy photo cards?” you give him a look. “this is different! you’re my girlfriend and you’re collecting a furry’s photo cards,” he argues.

“in my defense, i wasn’t your girlfriend when i was collecting him. besides, it’s not like hoshi’s the only one i posted on that account! I posted spreads for pretty much everyone, including you! it was just mostly hoshi and jeonghan because they were my biases,” you point out.

“oh great, so you biased the guy who thinks he’s a tiger and the one who has a pet rock,” he says dryly.

“i might’ve biased them but you’re the one I’m in love with now,” you assure him, pulling him in for a soft kiss.

“so… where is your photo card binder?” he questions after pulling away and you raise an eyebrow at him. “you are not burning my collection,” you warn.

“i wasn’t going to burn it. i was going to sell it. and then use that money to buy you photo cards of me,” he corrects.

“it’s okay babe, i don’t need a photo card of you when i have the real thing,” you tell him, kissing him again before you focus back on your book.

you think minghao lets it go after that but you’re proven wrong a few weeks later when they have their comeback.

he comes home with a gift bag for you, making you raise an eyebrow. “shouldn’t i be the one giving you a gift to celebrate your comeback, not the other way around?” you ask but happily accept the gift.

he watches as you pulled out every album version. you don’t realize that the plastic seal had been broken on all of them as you open it.

you open the first album, checking your photo card pulls as your boyfriend watched with a smirk on his face.

“oh my god, all three hao’s? i don’t think I’ve ever pulled only one member before,” you say, setting down the three different photo cards of your boyfriend.

it wasn’t until you opened the carat version that you realized your boyfriend had done something.

“seriously?” you give him a look when you flip the photo cards to reveal, once again, all of his. plus the carat binder was also his.

“i guess you’ve lost your hoshi luck, honey. you got lucky pulling all of mine,” hao says innocently.

he watches as you pick up your phone, expecting you to take a photo of your pulls but instead he sees you tapping on it, most likely texting someone.

“who are you texting?” he asks and you look up at him. “hoshi. to ask for his photo cards,” you say, dead serious.

“hey! i posed cutely for all of my photo cards just for you and you still want his?”

[pixiexdusts-world]

Trust me

Thanos x reader

Summary: A shy girl finds safety in Thanos, a reckless but protective survivor.

Word count: 770

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

I never thought I’d end up here—with him.

Thanos wasn’t the kind of person I usually gravitated toward. He was loud, confident, and unpredictable, while I was… well, me. Shy. Awkward. The kind of person who second-guessed every word before speaking, who blushed at the slightest attention. He was the kind of guy people either admired or feared. And yet, somehow, he had chosen me.

I met him before Squid Game, before everything fell apart. Back when he was just a man with a reputation too big for any room he walked into. I had been working part-time at a record store, hiding behind the counter, quietly existing, when he walked in one night.

“You got any old-school hip-hop?” he had asked, tapping his fingers against the counter in an impatient rhythm.

I had barely managed to stammer out a response before he smirked. “Why you so nervous?”

I hadn’t known how to answer. But for some reason, he had kept coming back, every week, teasing me, pushing past my awkwardness until I had gotten used to him.

And then life happened. Bad decisions. Wrong people. The kind of trouble that swallowed you whole before you even realized you’d stepped into it. That’s how we ended up here.

The first night in the Squid Game, I kept to myself, hugging my knees in the corner while the others talked in hushed voices. Thanos, on the other hand, was already making himself known—loud, reckless, unbothered by the fear in the air. I should have been annoyed. Maybe even a little afraid. But when he found me sitting alone, his expression softened in a way I wasn’t used to seeing.

“You okay?” he asked, crouching in front of me.

I nodded, though I wasn’t sure if it was true.

“You don’t have to be scared,” he said, lowering his voice like it was meant just for me. “Not as long as I’m here.”

I wanted to believe him. But this wasn’t some rap battle, some night out where he could bluff his way through danger with a cocky grin. This was real. Life or death.

Still, when he sat beside me, closer than necessary, I didn’t move away.

The days blurred together, each game a crueler nightmare than the last. I wasn’t built for this. I was too quiet, too soft, too used to fading into the background. But Thanos never let me disappear.

He stood in front of me when tensions ran high, when fights broke out over food. He made sure I ate, even when he barely touched his own meal. And when I flinched at the sound of a gunshot, he grabbed my wrist, holding it just tight enough to ground me.

“Hey,” he murmured, “look at me.”

I did.

“You’re still here,” he reminded me. “And as long as you’re here, you fight.”

I wanted to tell him that I wasn’t like him, that I didn’t know how to be fearless. But when I looked into his eyes, I realized something—he wasn’t fearless either. He just knew how to hide it.

One night, when the lights flickered and the dormitory became a battlefield, I felt panic creeping in. The sounds of screams and fists colliding filled the air, and I knew I was too weak to fight.

But then there was him.

Thanos grabbed my hand, pulling me into the shadows before anyone could reach me. He pressed me against the wall, shielding me with his body as chaos unfolded around us.

“Stay behind me,” he ordered, his voice rough but steady.

I wanted to tell him I didn’t deserve his protection. That he should be watching out for himself, not wasting his time on me. But all I could do was nod, gripping the fabric of his shirt like a lifeline.

As he fought off anyone who got too close, I realized something.

He wasn’t the man people thought he was. He wasn’t just reckless. He wasn’t just trouble.

He was the only person in this place who made me feel safe.

“Why do you care so much?” I asked one night, when the world had quieted again.

He looked at me like the answer was obvious.

“Because you make me feel human.”

And in that moment, despite the nightmare surrounding us, I believed him.

[ma1dita]

asking for trouble

a 'partners in crime' installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader words:  7.8k prev -> when the curtains close | next -> as above so below summary: (post-TLT, compliant to TLO) The one where Luke's final wish is to see you. (He's himself again, and all he wants is to find out if the trouble was worth it all) a/n: non-descriptive mentions of blood and war, main character death. angst. a boyfriend that yall may or may not agree with. one chapter left after this!! i imagined the last scene to play out with luke in a room where they have the immersive exhibits at a museum

—

[august 15th; camp half-blood kitchens, long island, new york — 9:49 pm]

Everything begins and ends with love if we are fortunate enough.

There’s a stillness that fills the air the night before what historians and future demigods alike will deem the Battle of Manhattan. It’s stifling—suffocating in the silence of the camp kitchens as you cover a sheet cake with blue frosting, piping the edges with a steady hand as you check the clock, time always ticking over your shoulder.

Almost lights out.

The circumstances are different now though, and surely no one will be able to sleep soundly tonight. Fate is hard at work unraveling the future, the gods and their spawn alike are preparing for war, yet you’re here putting sprinkles on Percy Jackson’s birthday cake.

It’s the most nonsensical thing you’ve done all week amidst the war preparations, taming the whirlwind of mixed emotions that shook camp in the days before. Perhaps it comes with the knowing that everything will change, and the only way out is through. Only the lucky ones get to go home after this.

“Are you really not coming with us tomorrow?”

Clarisse chuckles at your question from her position against the doorway, crossing her arms and watching you stick candles on the top of the sweet dessert. Her hands flex over her sleeves, tugging at the fabric like she needs to hide away from the rest of the world, “You make it sound like it’s a walk in the park instead of what it really is.”

“Is that why then?” You look up from your piping bag raising an eyebrow at her, “We need all the help we can get, Risse.”

“It’s a death wish. I don’t know how you do it grandma, but the world will keep spinning no matter if 5 shows up or not,” Clarisse mutters, rolling the words around in her mouth, “How do you do it? Knowing that he’ll be there…I-I don’t want Chris to put himself through that again. We’re going to lose anyway—something, if not everything.” 

You know that too.

There’s something ironic about how the children of war won’t be joining the fight of their lives, but Clarisse La Rue is as stubborn as a mule when she doesn’t get her way. Only something truly special would send her running to the battlefield at this point.

“A part of me feels obligated to be there and help fix it, Risse. This is the path I chose.”

She scoffs, her sneakers knocking against the side of the kitchen island. The daughter of Ares is wistful, hesitant… and nothing like herself tonight. You suppose conflict shapes someone like her like how insanity lines the essence of your being. Intangible, but the base of every choice—the driving reason connecting you to your godrents. 

“Yeah, I know that, but I still don’t get it. You don’t have to be here anymore,” she says thoughtfully, moving the cylinders of sprinkles around on the counter by height order, then by colors of the rainbow, “you could’ve chosen the easy life without all of this…I mean, if I ever got out of here alive, I wouldn’t look back.” The statement is sharp in the silence as if she’d attacked you with Maimer. Your eyes meet hers as if there’s a big secret she’s missing out on. You always look at them like that now, with a faraway gaze of a place none of them can reach.

“Who’s to say? Getting old and aging out of here is harder than you think, you know… College, rent, taxes…” you list off with every squeeze of the piping bag, spelling out Percy’s name with white frosting. Clarisse bites her lip, resting her chin against the palm of her hand as she watches you.

When she closes her eyes at night, she often dreams of being home in Arizona, dry heat prickling at her cheeks and dust swirling at her ankles. That’s what her future will look like, she thinks—and she’ll let herself be selfish if it means she gets what she wants. What do you dream of? Do you think about a future for yourself if you’re so worried about saving everyone else’s?

“But you still came back. Is this easier than that?”

Not easier, but familiar. Nothing you ever want comes easy after all. There is a comfort in walking the grounds of a camp counselor job you used to dread instead of filling out job applications; easier to you means fighting with the gods and slaying creatures of old instead of paying student loans and making rent. 

“I think you’ll find out that you do stupid things for love, Clarisse La Rue.”

She’ll never tell you this, but you’re the strongest person she knows. You’ve shown her that strength doesn’t always mean brain or brawn. Sometimes strength is loving someone without expecting anything in return, and the gnawing feeling in her stomach eats at her in an unsatisfying way—like Tantalus reaching for the grapevine, fingertips grazing the leaves for eternity.

Instead, Clarisse wipes down the counter with a Clorox wipe as you make your way towards the door, cake in hand. Tonight, she and her siblings will sleep with the knowledge that they’ll get to see another day. Call her selfish, sure—but that’s how she loves them. Alive.

“I still stand ten toes behind the fact that Michael Yew can be knocked down a fucking peg,” she mutters. There’s a small smile on her face and when she looks up at you, she sees your face is illuminated by moonlight. Clarisse hopes this won’t be the last time—silently praying to her father to extend his hand onto you.

“I’ll see you when I see you, La Rue.”

Whenever that is, she thinks. This is easier than a goodbye. What matters is showing up. What matters is that they try. That’s what she reminds herself as she turns off the big light and heads toward Cabin 5. 

Does any of that still matter in the end if they aren’t alive?

Her siblings are already asleep when she tucks herself into bed despite the music and laughter coming from 12. Light from across the way filters through her window, a warm glow cast across her face leaking through even when she shuts her eyes. It warms her, reminds her of the orange of the stupid shirts they wear, sunsets on Fireworks Beach, and the molten lava that drips down the climbing wall. 

Home might not be what she remembered it to be after all these years. Clarisse decides to sleep on it, hoping that when they wake, there’ll be something worth fighting for.

[august 15th; cabin 12, long island, new york — 10:08pm]

Camp Half-Blood is quiet as you walk through the dark forest, minding your step over the brambles and checking off your mental list of responsibilities before day breaks. The air is especially cool for a summer night, melancholy being your only jacket as you move on auto-pilot. Your fingers tighten around the tray you hold, pushing the door open to Cabin 12 which currently houses most of your campers. It’s lively and bright in here—you would think they’re all celebrating a Capture the Flag win instead of being sent off to their deaths for the greater good.

Tomorrow, they’ll wake up soldiers.

The wood creaks beneath your boots and it’s drowned out by the sound of soft chattering and laughter, a few of them still scuffling over sleep spots, and then—”HAPPY BIRTHDAY PERCY!”

There are only enough people in here to comfortably fit in a few of the strawberry trucks tomorrow—some went home to their parents to avoid the chaos and some chose not to fight at all. And the ones that remain— all 40 of them, that is, are spread out on the floor in sleeping bags writhing like worms. All the whooping and cheering is accompanied by Michael leading his siblings in song (and Connor and Travis ruining it by chanting CHA CHA CHA!). 

Percy is just shy of sixteen now, but the sheen in his blue eyes still reflects the tranquility of open water and something tender that you saw in him when he came to camp at twelve years old. Later, through mouthfuls of cake and smears of blue buttercream on his cheek, the son of Poseidon looks up at you thoughtfully, “Is this a pity cake?” He tries to make light of the situation by acting like the fate of the world doesn’t depend on his life or death, and you take a deep breath. 

Even demigods fall victim to fate, and the gods still push on. But what of their children that fight for change in the world they set the rules for; their children that fight their battles for them and lose their lives for immortal beings that live forever?

“This is a birthday party, not a pity party, Percy Jackson. There's no pity for the damned,” you chuckle. Damned if we do, damned if we don’t. All of the world’s problems seem so permanent when you’re 15 years old. It’s just fucked up that his will actually alter the course of humanity.

“And if this is the end of the world, I just wanted to make sure we’ve told you happy birthday first.”

“Well thanks,” Percy mumbles over a spoonful of buttercream, face reddening when Annie throws a paper towel roll at his face, “Hey!” It reminds you a lot of when you and Luke would fight in the dining pavilion, chicken tenders and mac n’ cheese flying through the air, and apples cut just the way you like.

You blink. 

It all boils down to him or Luke.

“Wipe your face, Seaweed Brain!”

Percy rolls his eyes, smiling down at his plate regardless of the weight he carries upon his shoulders. The more you want to live the more you have to lose, you think as you brush your knuckles against a spot of frosting he missed. You don’t look at the blonde boy and see a hero of the Great Prophecy—still, you see him as the little boy who was mesmerized by you conjuring strawberries on his plate on his first day at camp, innocent and honest. 

Looking around the room wistfully at that thought, you start to see the memories of their childhood blanket all of themlike ill-fitting clothes; it’s all you can notice. The feeling is so big it swallows you whole. Annabeth is still the little girl who’d rattle off obscure facts from Snapple bottle caps from her time on the road, drawing pictures of buildings with your eyeliner after sneaking into your room. Silena still makes blush out of berry juice and would call you about boy problems as if she’s not a child of the goddess of love herself. Will is still the boy who sings as he lights up fireflies and draws smiley faces on bandages. Katie, the girl who makes flower crowns for your birthday and eats strawberries with you soaked in morning dew. You look around and see scraped knees that you’ve kissed better, sleepy eyes you’ve sung to, and hearts you’ve kept warm—this is your glory, your greatest achievement being the family you’ve found in the woods of the Long Island Sound.

“You see it too?” Grover mumbles, nudging you and you sigh, squeezing his shoulder. Sometimes you forget the satyr is older than you; he stands tall as your pillar of support, unwavering in his promise to protect these kids. 

“We’re getting old, man.”

“You’re only 23. There’s so much left of you,” he deadpans. Laughter comes out of you in waves as you shake your head smiling.

“And what a pleasure it’s been to grow up with you.” 

Grover bids you a good night as you walk up the stairs to your old room, phone in hand while you dial a familiar number. Your boyfriend answers before the end of the first ring.

“Hey, I didn’t think you’d still be up!”

Settling against the windowpane near your bed, a soft smile graces your features and you realize he’s not there to see it. It’s always been easy with him—Dex was unbelievably kind, and he had a heart that he’d share without you having to ask. He was unlike any man you’d ever encountered before, and over the past year and a half you found it easy to love him. 

Worst of all, he’s utterly devoted to you. At least every part of you that you were willing to give him, even if it wasn’t all of you per se. Plus, you saw the ring in his desk drawer last week.

It was too…good to be true.

You recognize that this was your way out like Clarisse said, your escape from the turbulence that was your life as a demigod. But it was hard to believe that you were deserving of it. He’d never know of the ichor that runs through your veins, and the life you’d have to leave behind to truly be with him. You suppose every love you’ve ever had was sacrificial. You just wonder if because of that, easy makes it hard to feel real.

Maybe if you survive this one you’d tell him the truth. But for now, he’s rambling in your ear about his sudden work trip upstate. Morpheus and Hypnos are already at work then, redirecting the city dwellers out of Manhattan. It must be later than you thought already and in a few short hours, Apollo will be shining his rays across the Island for what you hope won’t be the last time.

“I wish I was with you right now,” you mutter in a hushed tone, and you hear him laugh breathily through the static sound of the phone. It’s easy to imagine him twirling the telephone cord between his fingers, flopped over the tiny loveseat you went halfsies on with your first big paychecks. The apartment you both moved into after graduation is more accurately a shoebox—but it’s yours, and the love you have for it is immeasurable in comparison to the square footage. You hum, listening to the sound of his voice, “Maybe I can catch you before I go—stop by and say hi before I drive up.” 

He won’t. By morning, you’re not even sure if he’ll remember you—all traces of Greek gods and their counterparts wiped clean from memory until it’s all over, whenever that is. You’re mindlessly walking in circles around your room, bare feet padding against the floorboards. He repeats your name and you realize you haven’t been paying attention, the tail end catching your ear, “Hmm?”

“Or you could come to me. I’m sure your dad won’t mind. It’s time I meet him, don’t you think?” 

And out of anything happening tomorrow, that especially sounds like a nightmare so you make a noise of disagreement, “I can’t. You know I can’t, honey. I’ve got…” your voice trails off as your lilac eyes land on a faded photo strip thumbtacked to your wall, “unfinished business to deal with.” There’s nothing left but inky silhouettes on the sun-damaged paper, two past lovers huddled together. But you know what it’s a picture of. Rye Playland, you and Luke at fifteen, cheek to cheek and covered in wisps of cotton candy.

“Mm. Sounds important. Does your unfinished business have a name?” 

Dex sounds playful now, teasing despite the silence on your end of the line. A beat passes, and then another, and he can hear the sound of your hands rifling through the things in your desk drawer. The dragon scale necklace is cold in your palm. 

For good luck, you think. 

It’s been a while since you’ve worn it—keeping it safe in the only home you and Luke shared, and as soon as it touches your neck, you feel a little less empty inside. It feels like a safety blanket, protecting you from whatever might come next. You almost feel guilty to be relieved.

Thumbing the cord absentmindedly, you mutter, “You don’t even know the half of it, Dex.” 

“Maybe one day you’ll tell me.” Sometimes, it’s like he knows— Dex must be the ivy that grows over the walls you’ve built up around yourself, and he can see glimpses of who you try to hide behind your stone-cold resolve. He wonders if you’ll ever tell him about the names you call out at night— an indistinguishable language he’ll never fully understand. He wonders where you’ve gotten your constellation of scars and where your mind goes when you sit next to the window and stare at the skyline.

Oh, he wonders.

The glow-in-the-dark stars are faded now on the ceiling when you look up at them, fighting to give their last bits of light. You wonder too, if there’s any fight left in you; a bit of Luke always remains—he’s everywhere you look. You can feel him as night falls upon New York, bidding you goodnight before it crumbles tomorrow. 

“Maybe. Good night, honey.”

Dex yawns into the receiver. You know his feet are kicked up onto the coffee table even though you always tell him he shouldn’t, and that his glasses are already off for the night. You really think he could be a nice guy to end up with, all things considered. Dex was the epitome of normal, and after almost two and a half decades of existence, it’s quite evident that you are anything but. 

Normal might be quite nice.

He yawns again. Hypnos must have reached his window, “I love you, you know that?”

“I do. Me too. Good night.”

It’s the truth. 

You love this man and the spaces he’s filled within the chaos of your life. You love all of him, from the perfectly normal way he makes breakfast for you every morning (and laughs when he burns the toast), and takes the train to work at a middle school in Harlem (“6th grade ELA takes a lot out of a man,” he jokes). He picks you up from your job at the therapist’s office downtown if you get out too late, as a gentleman would (though you’ve fought monsters that he’d scream at the sight of). Once upon a time, normal was exactly what you used to wish for.

There’s a moment where your breath hitches and you sink against your pillow and you wonder if he would love all of you—demigod and all. Could he get used to this— summers at Camp Half-Blood with chariot races and gladiator-style fighting, pegasi and harpies roaming the grounds, and watersports with woodland nymphs? Dex never even questions your green thumb or how Pollux made him hallucinate your dead brother when he came to visit (“It’s what Castor would’ve wanted! The full twin-terrogation!” he insists. You convinced your boyfriend he got food poisoning that night). Could you come clean about knowing how to slay a chimera, or why you never get drunk, and have the stamina of an Olympian (the athletic kind, but not too far off from the truth)? 

But it shouldn’t be called coming clean. That makes it sound like you’re ashamed of who you are—which you’re not. You’ve just been hiding this part of you from a normal human that you love very much.

Gods, is this how your dad felt when he was seeing your mom? 

Somehow insanity has always felt bearable—love, however, has always been such an ordeal.

The phone bounces onto your bedspread once you hang up the call. There is no more time to worry about playing a part. Tomorrow, everyone comes as they are—whatever happens after will be a problem if you reach another day. Fate has its way of making itself known, you know that by now. Blinking, you take a deep breath, and very intentionally, with your feet criss-cross applesauce, you pray—for what, you still try to figure out as the minutes tick by. 

Better late than never.

Here at camp, you were always the last one up after lights out, anyway. Tonight of all nights shouldn't be any different.

[august 16th; 34th street and herald square, manhattan, new york — 9:17 am]

“Where do you think you’re going, mister!”

Your little brother flinches, immediately turning tail and walking across the deserted street to meet you in the middle. He’s taller than you now, craning his neck down to look at your angry glower as you thrust a finger into his face, “You’re sticking with me.”

“Jake said he’s taking 9 and 12 to the Holland Tunnel,” Pollux calls out, shuffling his feet and you punch his arm hard, “OW! —It’s what Percy wants.” He swats your hand away for good measure, his arm guards clanking against yours when he dodges another swing at his head.

“We are Cabin 12, you shithead. I’m not letting you out of my sight for a second.” Your staff is heavy against his shoulder and Pollux can’t help but let his gaze wander to where Jake Mason and the other children of Hephaestus are waiting for him a block over. Manhattan is a warzone, and the difference between fighting empousai and fighting his older sister right now is very similar in theory—hard to do alone. The tunnel is halfway across the city from the Empire State Building—if something were to happen to either of you…

"M’not here to fight,” he sighs, “with you at least. I need to do my part, sissy.” The old nickname is an arrow through your heart and you grab Pollux’s hand, “I just want to make sure you’ll be okay. I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if I couldn’t get to you in time.”

“HEY 12! You coming, or what?”

The two of you look towards the small army down the block, both of your hands intertwined like grapes from the same vine. You’re not sure if you can let go; you’re not sure if your father could lose another child. But Pollux’s face is almost set in stone—he’s never been more sure of himself. Your lip wavers, forcing itself into a stiff smile and he softens at the sight, “I’ll be okay.”

“And if you’re not? Then what?”

He shrugs, “Then… then I’ll get to see Castor.”

You nod, breathing shakily, and flinching when Jake calls for Pollux again, “Well. If you are okay…You come find me. After this is over, you come straight back home to me. You got it?”

Pollux hugs you, hard—the force of all of him sending you sprawling into his arms and it knocks the wind out of you. As the twins have grown, it’s been rare for them to show you any affection. They’d usually recoil or whine about how mushy their older sister is, and each time it makes you laugh. But right now, you stand there gripping onto his t-shirt, breathless; the ringing in your ears gives way to words he mumbles into your hair, “I love you,” he says, in case you didn’t already know. 

Just in case this is goodbye. You take it in for a moment longer, running a hand through his blond hair and cupping his cheeks as you finally step away, “I love you. I’m so proud of you, P. We all are.”

“Haven’t done anything yet,” he grins, backing away slowly, a skip in his step as he nears the small troop of Hephaestus kids. You wave them off, blowing a kiss as they band together and turn in the other direction.

Why is it that you can only be proud of someone if there’s something to prove it?

You think about all 40 of your campers fighting for their lives in the greatest city in the world. The sound of hellfire, roaring monsters, and screams that could only come from your kids. Fatigue wears you down with each swipe of magic towards enemy forces, monsters writhing in pain at your feet, demigods reduced to insanity and blood-curdling screams. It disgusts you even more so that no one can witness the weapon you've been forced to become.

After all, no one knows any of you were there. Life continues on outside of the bubble containing the Battle of Manhattan. And only the ones fighting will be able to remember this. Only you will remember the blood you spilled to wrestle for your destiny.

The rest of the city continues to sleep, safe from the people who swore to protect it.

[august 18th; empire state building, manhattan, new york mount olympus, in the sky above new york??? — 5:22 pm]

Running up 492 flights of stairs was another type of hell you didn’t expect to put yourself through, but it was faster than waiting for the elevator to Olympus. It’s quiet besides the steady rush of blood pumping in your ears, your boots slapping against the tile to reach your friends who might be in danger at the hands of someone you know well. But it’s too late to give up when you’re so close—you realize you’re praying to anyone who’ll listen as you push through the pain of always being a little too late. 

“Ugh!”

Air pierces through your lungs painfully as you trip up a landing, hands clawing against the banister. Have you been running in place this whole time, quick to start but hard to follow? Your lip quivers, eyes trailing up the stairwell faster than your legs can take you. 

Whatever the outcome, you’ll be better for it, you hope.

It’d be easier to give up. To stay away and not watch Percy fight for his life against him. You dry heave as you press your head against the wall, wondering if it’s worth not seeing what will become of this wretched prophecy. It’s hard to survive loving the villain when the rest of the world is dying because of it. Your legs feel like jelly underneath you, and not a single soul in Manhattan knows you’re here—until you feel the strength of an old traveler lift you up and revitalize your soul. Looking down to see your boots retie themselves tightly, the feeling in your chest reminds you of him. Everything leads back to Luke, and you think wherever he is now—Hermes knows that too. 

“Thank you,” you mutter. He’s handpicked your prayer through the tempest that hangs over Manhattan so that maybe your hands will be gentler in smiting his lost son. You find yourself with the nerve to run up the last dozen flights of stairs, pushing past the entryway to see Thalia Grace under a statue of her stepmother, “THALIA!” You barely make it to her fallen form before her free arm tries to push you away from the rubble.

“Get out of here! I mean it—” Thalia spits out your name through gnarled teeth and bones crunching under the heavy hands of Hera. The statue lays over the bottom half of her body, holding her legs down like how one forms a fist, and the daughter of Zeus pushes through pain and millennia worth of her dad’s karmic debt in giving her life—the essence of being a forbidden child still has a hold on her, even now. 

“I’m not gonna…leave you…”

With everything in you, both demigod strength and sheer desperation, you push at the unmoving stone and your fingernails begin to splinter from the pressure. 

But you know what it feels like to get left behind. 

Desolation slowly sets in your bones, a hollow feeling that spreads through your core as sweat rolls down your cheeks, and when you sniff to wipe it away, Thalia’s lip quivers. She’s writhing in pain and everything is coming to an end down the hall from where you stand. 

“We’re so close, Grace. I’m not giving up on you when we’re this close. I need you in there with me so you just hold on, okay?”

The marble is cool to the touch under your moist hands, and her face is fixed in a grimace as she looks up at you and sees you for who you are—another demigod who was never given a fair chance at fate but with a spirit of a hero waiting for the right chance. Thalia coughs before slapping your hand away, “LISTEN TO ME! I’ll be okay. He needs you to be there. We’re almost out of time!” 

You barely register your body moving as you get up and start to run, looking back at Thalia by the time you’re at the top of the landing. There are no words that you could imagine to string together when your eyes meet hers in the distance that separates you two—the feeling of grief bearing down as you both know the end is near and inside those doors.

As you turn back around, you take a moment to wonder if you might’ve had different people in mind for who’s up there waiting for you.

[august 18th; the hall of gods, mount olympus, the sky above new york— 6:48 pm]

Finally pushing through the heavy doors of the Hall of Gods, your eyes burn like salt in a wound as you travel toward the center to see three figures laid out on the marble mezzanine. There’s a cramp in your calf by the time you reach them, your legs giving way as you skid to a stop in front of Luke’s corroded body. The pain doesn’t register for you, split skin going numb as you stare into the eyes of a storm you fell in love with almost ten years ago. 

A stranger is no longer wearing your love’s skin. Percy and Annie’s eyes feel heavy against your back as they watch you sigh in relief, a landslide of emotion rolling off of you when you see he’s still breathing, even faintly, as if he waited for you to make it back to him.

“It’s Luke,” Annabeth chokes out, “the scythe transformed into Backbiter and I knew it was him. He was fighting for us.” Her voice makes you flinch, makes this more real—it echoes as the wind carries it through the hall. Without a doubt in your mind, you know it’s him by the way he looks at you with tired eyes, soft and amber—the light pushing away the shadows and he reaches out for you. His skin is paled by the River Styx, face weathered by the Titan as you gently guide his head onto your lap. A pathetic cry slips from your mouth when you realize there’s more pressure in the fingers he brushes against your cheekbone versus the one holding the blade embedded in his chest. 

Fuck, what do you even say? 

He’s dying right in front of you and you can’t think of a single word to say.

The clock is ticking and every breath of his comes out weaker––he speaks before you can find the words, breathing out, “I missed you,” like it was a relief to say it. And it all comes spilling out like a secret you’ve been safeguarding since the day he left— a mix of your tears and his blood smearing across your cheek as he reaches out to wipe them ever so gently. You find yourself smiling in the face of death itself—smile even if the both of you can feel death’s hand on him saying that time is finally up because the act of meeting each other here in the middle makes the years you’ve gone without him worthwhile. 

The reunion is also the loss; a nasty habit you’ve both fallen into over the years. But this time, Luke’s finally able to give you the world he wanted to see just before he leaves it.

You clutch him close without intending to let go, purple eyes scavenging for confirmation that this is your Luke, the one who pushed you through the brambles of the North Woods, wind in his hair and mischief in his smile. He’s citrus and musk, cunning smiles, something sacred kept within cabin 11, calloused fingers pulling at your t-shirt, and the voice out of tune at nightly sing-a-longs—and he loves you still. 

Loving you was the only thing that never changed.

“Shhhh, don’t waste your energy. The gods will…” you swallow a sob despite yourself, “I…my dad’s going to be here soon. He’ll help us.” There’s a lump in your throat that carries the weight of everything unsaid. Who would help you now that everyone else is getting what they wanted—a brighter tomorrow without the villain? But the prophecy unveils itself so cruelly, and the one who hurt you is the hero in this story, just as he’s always dreamed. It so happens to be at the cost of loving you.

Luke’s eyelids flutter like butterfly wings descending softly. You press a kiss onto his forehead like you used to while waiting for him to fall asleep. The chuckle that rumbles his ribcage is faint against the hand of yours that’s holding him together and the war is finally over and no one even knows that besides the four of you in this room.

“I'm running on borrowed time,” Luke wheezes, “I think my life ended the day I left you.” His thumb weakly traces the tear tracks cascading down your face, and he’s reacquainting himself with every feature of yours while he can touch it—to hold and be held by you after so long feels like drinking up ambrosia, his last bits of strength telling you what you’ve always known. 

Is there a word stronger than love?

One that would explain how close and how far you feel to him at this moment and you don’t want to say the wrong thing but there are no wrong words when it comes to the right person. Hoarsely, through wavering lips, you chuckle, “Then it's time to stop running, baby. I’m here now.”

It’s exhausting to carry the weight of tomorrow in your arms and to know it’ll be made possible only by letting him go. You’re holding him too tightly, claws sinking in to feel—to ground yourself and keep him tethered to this reality, just in case a different answer falls out of the sky. 

But falling with Luke Castellan, falling for him, has been nothing like you wanted. You've said your goodbyes more often than you can count. 

This part is just about letting him go.

“I think I’m doomed,” he laughs, coughing harshly. Blood soaks his airways, retribution for the lives he took. It drips out of his mouth and you still look at Luke like he’s asked you to marry him. What a soft, funny thought. 

Love must be more violent than war, to feel like this—to know he’s wrecked your world and still come out the other side smiling at him like he put the stars in the sky. His fingers are slipping out of yours as you hold onto the knife that keeps him here and Luke mutters, “I’m so s-sorry. You deserved better in this life.” You hear Annabeth sob from somewhere behind you but you can’t look at anything else but his eyes, not daring to miss another moment of him.

“Can’t be all that bad,” you say with a watery chuckle, wiping his mouth with your thumb. There’s more of a mess now with your feeble efforts but the action comforts you more than him; caring for Luke is something you cannot unlearn. 

“This life gave me you. I don’t want to know anything else. Do you hear me?” 

You want Luke to know this—to understand that even if this is how fate has handled the both of you, there is no other hand you would hold but his.

“You’re my whole life, Trouble.”

“I know, angel. I know. It’s always been me and you.”

You and me, he mouths, an echo of himself left to relay the message as his eyes lose their warmth, empty now and unseeing. And then he's home in your arms again as you hold every broken and bloodied piece of him together until he's no more. The parts of him he leaves behind blur into you, rivulets of his lifeforce weaving through your fingertips even when you put pressure against the knife you both hold, hands cradling the spot under his armpit, and to Percy and Annabeth it looks like you're holding his heart, clutching it between your fingers.

Protecting it until his last beat—when he finally gives it over to you. 

It was always yours, anyway. 

Before, in the in-between, and now after, his heart is yours.

Time stops for Luke Castellan, the man born to die, in the Hall of Gods that day— in the arms of his partner and in the presence of his little sister and truest friend. 

Lips against his ear, no one tries to pull you away, even when the gods of Olympus march in expecting a battle to only find a dead hero and a story that needs to be told.

You’ve never seen him so still before. 

Luke’s always been the one with something to say, hands fidgeting to hold yours. Still, you hold his hand even if he can't feel it, still smile even if he can't see you, still whisper words of devotion even if he can't hear it. By the time you feel your father’s hands on your back and hear Percy say, “We need a shroud. A shroud for the son of Hermes,” you imagine that he’s miles away from where he lays motionless, dead weight in your grasp. Nothing can pull you away from the mantra you set to remind him that he’s yours even when he leaves again. Luke’s soul will soon journey where you cannot follow, and you whisper to him in the stillness amidst the noise, “I love you, I love you, I love you…” 

When the Fates come to collect the body, their ancient hands spin around the two of you as they unweave your hold on him. You weren’t given a choice—his material body dissipates in front of your eyes and you swear you feel the tug from deep within your core as you watch them float Luke away. It’s so much different now from when he used to fly around your room with his stupid winged Converse—even the gods avert their eyes when you let out a sob that shakes the ornate hall. Hopelessly you watch, sat down on the marble and unable to move or follow—as if maybe he’d still answer to your sweet nothings, and not leave you hanging once more. You slump against your father’s side, catatonic and at a loss for words—they leave with him, floating away into the distance.

Humanity’s biggest problem and resolution has always been love—this was never a story about the lack thereof.

[august 18th; death, pre-judgement? — the seven minutes after]

The path that Luke Castellan takes after he dies is most peculiar and unlike any path he’s traveled before. And yes, there have been several times that he’s come close to death—under Ladon’s claws in the Garden of Hesperides, and when he relinquished his physical self by bathing in the River Styx, but neither of those times where he’s cheated his way out can compare to the real thing. 

He once read in one of Annabeth’s textbooks that there are seven minutes of brain activity that wanes in your consciousness before you die. There’s a distinct thrumming in his ears when he comes to, and Luke discovers he’s completely in the dark with no sense of direction and most importantly, no visible way out. The old him, were he still alive—would be panicking by now, short terse breaths and sweat upon his brow. Old Luke would have fidgeting hands and eyes that rocket around for an exit. But this Luke, whoever he is—whatever he is now, finds himself eerily calm. Everything glows in a vignette, and familiar scenes materialize before his vision, a kaleidoscope of color and your shrieking laughter surrounding him in the familiarity of your happiness with him—it feels like lifetimes ago. He realizes he’s smiling. 

Versions of you swirl in the space he stands in, taking up space wherever he can look, wherever he turns—you’re there. 

And he remembers.  

Memory is a choice after all, much like love is. And no one can take that away from Luke Castellan except death itself.

The scene flickers for a moment, eyelashes fluttering against morning light peeking through the windows of Cabin 11.

It’s Luke’s first morning at Camp Half-Blood after the storm that brought him and Annabeth there. You’re standing over him with a half-beaten pillow and a menacing grin that grows as he spits out feathers. It’s his first impression of you, Kool-aid tipped hair and hands shaking with a crushed Redbull can in your other fist.

“Good. You’re still breathing. Wasn’t sure for a sec.”

A voice yells out your name and you make a run for it, barefoot and giggling and looking back at him every few steps—his breath catches in his throat again like how it did on the first day you both met.

The scenery changes and he’s sitting next to you on the dock of Canoe Lake.

“I dare you.”

“No way,” he hears himself say, and then he sees you fling algae at him in ropes, cold and slimy that it makes his voice crack, “He—ey! You’re gonna get us fired and it hasn’t even been a full day since we got the job,” he says, clearing his throat as you bite your lip.

“What’s one last hurrah?”

“You’re always gonna be Trouble, aren’t you?” he says, getting annoyed by the orange fabric that temporarily blinds him. Chuckling, you pull your shorts off and look back at him, eyes glinting in the moonlight and he can’t help but ogle at the rest of you, gulping hard. You catch him staring and he averts his eyes, looking back at the treeline to see if anyone’s come to find you both. A resounding splash echoes in the silence between you and Luke turns back to find your head bobbing visible above the water and not much else.

“I double-dog dare you, Castellan.”

He jumps in.

The dark blue of the water turns into light reflecting the pinks and purples of the sky above Montauk Point at sunset.

“We’re alive! Told you we’d be fine,” you yell, clicking your seatbelt off and jumping out of the car before Luke can even put the hatchback in park. It was his first drive anywhere—you’ve finally graduated from looping around Farm Road.

“Hey wait up!”

He calls out your name, but you’re already kicking up sand as the distance between you grows until he locks up the car and chases after you. You didn’t stand a chance, slipping and sliding in the sand as the son of Hermes quickly grabs you around the waist and throws you over his shoulder as you scream bloody murder. When he sets you down, your arms are looped around his neck and you’re smiling against the pink and tender scar on his cheek.

“Think we can break into the lighthouse before the guards come, angelface?”

The sound of crashing waves turns into chattering cabin counselors and when Luke looks around again, he’s at the Big House, with everyone else pushing their chairs in and walking towards the door. He holds his hand out and you grab it with no words or instruction—like a key nestled within its lock, exactly where it’s meant to be. 

“Last order of business, kind of…” Your dad drones from his spot near the windows. Luke tries to let go of your hand but you don’t let him, “Don’t panic,” you mutter.

“This… fraternization won't become an issue for all of us, will it?”

Everyone’s frozen near the doorway, staring at your intertwined hands. Luke clears his throat and turns toward Mr. D, “I’ll see to it that it doesn’t. Sir.”

You could almost hear a pin drop, and no one knows what to say next—not even Mr. D.

“Yeah, I’ll keep Castellan in line.”

That’s the confirmation everyone was waiting for; a mixture of groans and the clinking of drachma fill the air as Chris holds his hands out and takes his spoils of victory with a charming smirk on his face. Clarisse throws the coins at his head.

“I feel like I should take a bow or something,” Luke snickers into your ear, before placing a kiss against your temple.

You’re still in his arms and still look good in orange, but when he pulls back to look at you again, you’re both hovering above the ground near the dining pavilion. His knees are shaking when his winged Converse flap madly underneath you—a flurry of uncoordinated movement that makes you want to piss yourself.

“You’re lucky I have a strong core, babe,” he grins—and he’s thrilled at the fear on your face as you clutch onto him for dear life, one arm around his abdomen and the other around his neck, both legs latched around his waist.

“I swear to the fucking gods if you drop me, Castellan…”

His right foot jerks in a slightly different direction, making him laugh as you squeak.

“Castellan, huh? That scared, Trouble? Not gonna drop my baby.”

The wind around you whirls like a tornado as Luke tries to show off, getting higher and higher until, “LUKE!”

He catches you by the fingertips again and now there’s sand beneath your feet. You’re still spinning in his arms and his mom is singing along to a song playing on the radio you brought to Westport Beach. May claps lightly and you tug her up with a soft smile, “Come on Miss May! Take your son out for a spin.” Tugging at the damp white t-shirt you wear over your underwear, you take a seat on the picnic blanket and watch them with a smile you haven’t given Luke in years.

“Mother-son dance,” May whispers in his ear, humming a few notes of the wedding march.

He closes his eyes and soaks it all in, slightly swaying.

That thrumming is in his ears again, a steady beat against his chest and he feels it everywhere—a pounding rhythm that cannot be ignored. He opens his eyes and you’re snuggled against each other, tangled beneath the sheets. You’re still asleep and Luke just…watches you before the morning starts (whenever this is) and it all has to end. You’re breathing against his neck, lips slightly agape as warm air brushes his pulse. He moves hair out of your face and you pull him in unconsciously, skin to skin with no atom of space left between you. 

Luke blinks. 

You’re in your college apartment.

He blinks again.

His childhood bedroom.

Again, please.

In Cabin 12.

Please, just one last time.

You’re drooling against his neck in his tiny bunk in Cabin 11 and the noise is getting louder now—a static sound that morphs into the sound of your voice throbbing like a heartbeat, “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

It’s the last thing he can hear before he has to go.

_ 

“I wanna see your eyes / Is it a crime to say I still need you?” - Adrienne Lenker

[rhaeheartzsquirrelz]

General Sevika Headcannons

Sevika x Female Reader (Fluff)

Content (w): You’re horny in like.. once? Angst at the end, but its short.

Proofread || Note: I didn’t mean to disappear, writers block got to me :( Kinda short and this is, a tiny bit, rushed.

MEN DO NOT INTERACT!!!!

Random

Big on whistling. Does it when she needs your attention, when she’s checking you out, even when she’s teasing. She likes seeing the look on your face. Especially eye rolls, do one with a face and she’s giddy.

Insanely good at Sudoku. She picked it up a while back when Silco taught her the magic behind the numbers. Now, she’ll challenge the old man and watch as he pinches the bridge of his nose while she’s smiling smugly.

Loves when call her, or anything that belongs to her, cool. She likes being cool. That’s probably why she lets her cape fly off during fights.

Hates her glasses, mainly because they lack functionality, but enjoys seeing you thirst over them. She’d going blind and you’re over here drooing over her, she loves that. And, just for fun, she’ll wear a turtleneck; which, gets you hornier than ever.

Expression

Is she good at being romantic? No. She’s never had someone to be.. soft with. In a way, you’re the first person she’s ever opened up to. Be it letting you know her interests, her dislikes, her favourites, or just small, “not so very tough” things about her. However, she’s only just getting used to those things.

Flowers is all Sevika really knows. On her way back from her backbreaking job, she’ll grab you a few flowers from the market or straight up pluck one she randomly saw and surprise you.

Not so good with words. That woman doesn’t have a clue on how to comfort you. Why? Because she’s never been in a situation where she’s had someone talk her through her problems. Where she’s been able to let slip an ounce of vulnerability. Tragic, but she’s learning.

Things she does that she doesn’t realize

Stares so much that, before the two of met, it scared you. You thought you were her next target and lived in fear for the next week or so until the woman, finally, decided to talk to you. And, after a few months of dating you finally brought it up. She denied it at first but, when she caught herself staring at you a million more times she came clean.

“I was only appreciating you.” She brings it up so abruptly that you’re confused, “what are you talking about?”

With a sip of her whiskey, she rolls her eyes and sighs.

“Nothing..”

Her grip’s a little too hard. Her flesh fingers always end up digging into your waist whenever she’s trying to keep you close. Your girlfriend never noticed it until you had to talk to her about the slight redness she had left on your skin. And, for the next week, Sevika brought home boquets of flowers— not the cheap kind— every day until you told her you forgave her. (You didn’t know she wanted you to say so.)

So sassy that you sometimes have to take deep breaths in order to not tell her off. It’s not on purpose, she’s just so used to having that tone. One time you thought she was pissed at you when, in reality, she was just trying to find the next row for her Sudoku round.

Snores loudly. Jannah have mercy on your soul because that woman will not stop snoring for the love of her life. You’ve tried giving her different pillows, different positions, anything and everything, but nothing seems to work. Somehow, over time, you found a way to fall asleep with her deep snores beside you, even though, sometimes, you want to smack her in the face with a pillow.

Dislikes/Hates

Being ignored. Sevika will, quite literally, go insane if you ever give her the silent treatment. She’s not used to being treated like she’s not there— hell, she’s one of the most respected woman in Zaun, why would she be alright with not being acknowledged? Just to get back at you, she’ll annoy you until you break. Chewing loudly in your ear or shaking you up by heavily sitting on the couch beside you, she’s determined, and she knows you know that.

Her own overthinking. She’s been through a lot, and she doesn’t know why you still stick around with all her problems. Even the risk of you being in danger, because of her, makes her stay awake at night, she doesn’t want to lose you and she hates how her mind needs constant reassurance that you want the same thing. Even though she rarely says the amount of doubts she has, she’ll hit you with this look that only you can read. It’s a silent need that you, happily, provide. Murmuring soft words she’ll end up being embarrassed about later.

The saddest one of them all: her face. :(((( Seeing herself in the mirror makes her feel a sense of shame that she’s never fully able to verbally express. It’s the scars that make her feel self conscious, the wrinkles on her face that makes her groan, the masculinity of her jaw that makes her question herself. But, luckily for her, she’s got this amazing girlfriend, you, who will reassure all her problems away. You swoop in when you hear how quiet the apartment has gotten, follow behind her and give her a few looks of awe and comment on whatever she needs you to. Tell her she’s the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen and she’ll melt. Smiling like some teenager while looking away in embarrassment; in that moment, she’s thinking about how lucky she is to have you with blush on her cheeks.

[hungry-eel]

After one year Update

warning contains spoilers

So it really has been some time Since I have made this post. It is probably one of my favorite posts that I have made as well as one of my more well known. As of currently it has now been more than a year since I made this post, and one of the few things that hasn't chanced is my love for Cassius, if anything, it has only strengthened since the post!

Not long after creating the post, I figured out how you could play Granblue Fantasy, and since I began to play more, I wanted to do what I could to not only get Cassius but also discover more about his story and lore which made me love him even more than I already did.

I might as well use this opportunity to take some time, and tell more about what I found out about Cassius' lore, and his lead up to becoming the glutton he is currently. To make things both easier for me and to help fit this post, I will only primarily be going into the most detail in moments where food or eating is involved, if you ever wanted to know more about his character, I can show you where to access the stories.

Lore summary:

So the first story that Cassius debuted in was in Second advent from the society storyline. Though the event story itself doesn't feature that much if any moments with him and food, it does set up more of his background and who he was before becoming a glutton. Cassius was an agent for the moon, which are antagonists for the society story, and was originally sent down to retrieve data for the moon. By the end, with of a combination of his cover found (he doesn't do that great of a job being undercover) and injuries that he had sustained, he had to stay in the sky world. Cassius also thinks about logic over everything else, and everything including his diet, decisions, and battle plans are based on if they are logical or not, and is likely not likely to do the action if deemed illogical

Cassius' SR fate episode is the first moment we really get to see Cassius having food, and what is essentially his introduction to it. The first part involves Beatrix, one of the society members and Cassius' biggest enabler, offering him a loaf of bread to eat after he had expressed that he was hungry. During such she also slathered jam of multiple different kinds across the bread so now it is is one big jelly sandwich. Cassius is reluctant but accepts the bread, and he ate it all with pleasure.

The second part involves Cassius trying ramen for the very first time. He is very skeptical at first, given that it is much more unhealthy than the lowest ranked meals on the moon, yet something keeps drawing him to have more, and keeps returning to the restaurant daily for more ramen, and establishing his ramen addiction.

The next event he would be featured in would actually be a summer event called Cappa Summer Chronicle. Though this event is much more of a filler event, it does feature Cassius trying and eating a large variety of different foods such as rice balls, to candy apples, and Sushi. Trying different kinds of foods, and going to the various food stalls are one of the things he is most excited to do as well.

The next event story he would be featured in is in Spaghetti Syndrome where the main plot involves the moon now wanting Cassius to return, so in order to do that a bounty is set up on him. Like with the previous event, there isn't too much moments where Cassius is eating, but there is a scene where Cassius and Eustace go out to lunch together in which they get omurice, and then afterwards proceeds to overanalyze its taste. There was also a heartwarming, yet funny moment where Cassius did eventually had to go back to the moon and on the trip there, and during that time, he would have flashback memories to the times he was with his friends, and over half of the instances were quite literally food related such as his first time trying jam filled bread, or characters inviting him to look at food stalls.

The next event Home sweet moon, is the main climax of his story where now that he is taken away to the moon, his own people are dissecting his brain and memories, that way they can use his skills and experience on other weapons. Beatrix makes a remark saying that once Cassius returns to the sky realm, states that once he touches the ground the first thing he is going to do is find something to eat, and that statement was also proven true where once he is finally rescued and returned to the sky realms, he wants to eat immediately after someone mentions the word restaurant. He wanted to eat spaghetti in particular as it reminds him as it reminded him of his brain (note he is really bad at jokes).

Post Home sweet Moon:

So after home sweet moon this is where we see more of Cassius settled into his skin, meaning he become much more of a glutton and food addict than he already is. Most I will be mentioning is ether events that have him involved or fate episodes with the exception of Ramen travels given that I already gave a summary of that in my original post.

SSR Fate Episode - This story is honestly really sweet and enduring and is probably a really good epilogue to conclude Cassius' current arc. He invites Lyria, Vyrn, and the MC to go out on a walk with him, and together they would go out and get some of the first he had tried upon arriving to the sky world, Jam filled bread and Ramen. By the end he says that he doesn't really have a logical reason for inviting his friends out for the day, and is also aware that the things that he is eating is unhealthy for him, but is doing these things because he wants to. He finds peace in himself finally being capable in having his own autonomy and decision making outside of his previously set beliefs.

SSR Valentines fate episode - so this one is one of the few Cassius stories that I haven’t read through to its fullest since I don’t have his valentines unit yet. However, from what I can remember Cassius is introduced to the concept of Valentine’s Day chocolate, and tests out why that is the case by making chocolate himself with some children at an orphanage. Also knowing Cassius, he also practically eats most of the chocolate while making it.

Sandalphons Valentine fate episode - Likes with Cassius’ valentine episode, I haven’t fully seen this one in game, but Cassius is heavily featured in sandalphons valentine story as well. In the case with this one, sandalphon learns how to brew various amounts of coffee, while Cassius consumes them with pleasure.

Also quick update but Christmas treated me well because just as I was writing this, a new years event has released called Rowdy Ramen Rumble that features both the return of Cassius, but has him gain weight again! The story is also much shorter than the other ones, but to give a quick summary, Cassius is "kidnapped" by a group of gourmets and essentially force feed Cassius ramen so he can be a taste tester for creating the best ramen. once his friends come and rescue him he eventually changes his mind and help the people who caught him which kind of ramen is the best one.

Conclusion:

Never in my lifetime would I ever expect to be this dedicated to a character to this extent! He’s an incredibly fun and complex character to go through and being that he is both a glutton and has canonical weight gains is the icing on top!

There still many other small stuff that I wish I could share but it would only make this post much longer than it already is. Besides, I highly doubt that this will be the last post I ever share of him.

Either way, thank you so much for your interest and dedication to this post. It always makes me happy that I am able to bring interest to a character that is otherwise very unknown, even within this community!

"The biggest gacha game glutton doesn't exi-"

I am still very new when it comes to granblue fantasy, and as of right now I do not know all that much about the series, and I still won't know that much given that its a pretty old game that I can't access, and haven't head of any recent updates as far as I know. So because of that among other things, I hadn't really known about Cassius or his event story. (Correction: the game is still active and getting updates, just not as much on Cassius)

It wasn't until I was scrolling through some tumblr blogs (which @askbloatedbellyblog thanks for sharing the post that sent me down a spiral) and once I discovered about Cassius and his event story I was hooked! Not only is it one of the only visual novel/gacha games that I have seen so far that actually has visuals of the actual weight gain itself, but its also not done as a one time gag either and we get prolonged scenes of Cassius' overweight state. The story itself is also so good in my opinion! Although the actual content itself my not cater to everyone and their desires, for me, I think the story is one of the best!! It fulfills all of my stuffing fantasies and desires, watching him endlessly devour and gorge on everything that is around him, and finding enjoyment in doing such as well!

No joke, I was so invested in this character and his event story that for a good portion of time that was all I could think about! I wouldn't be surprised if this becomes a bit of a mini hyperfixation for me.

To know more about my research on Cassius himself and his gluttonous pursuits, he is fairly new to the setting as he came from another world, and is leaning to discover both this new world, and how everything works. Along with such he applies ration and logic to everything with very little emotions, isn't surprised by much, thinks very literal mindedly, and comes across as childish and naïve.

His other most notable feature is his HUMONGOUS apatite, and how he is able to eat much more than the average person. He has a very high metabolism so he is able to eat in mass quantities without risking his heath or gaining weight. However, during the Ramen Travels event, he manages to eat so much and in such crazy amounts that not even his metabolism could keep up with him, leading to his eventual weight gain.

Although his original purpose was to try out various ramen noodles, his pursuits evolve into eating everything that he can as much as he can. To give a bit of a perspective how much he actually eats during this event, he hits up multiple desert stalls, wins a food eating contest, tries various kinds of ramen, eats entire menus in restaurants including the main courses, drinks, and deserts, eats whole dishes made to serve a family of six in one sitting, and repeats that behavior consistently every day for weeks on end.

Another part of his endless gluttony is also how Cassius also took the term "There is always room for desert" too literally and came to the belief that no matter how much he eats, there will never be enough food for him to eat, and that there will always be room in his stomach to eat and try more foods.

When it came to his eventual weight gain, although the people around him are concerned about his overall heath encouraging him to lose the weight, Cassius himself doesn't mind the weight gain at all and if anything he actually enjoys it, believing that the feeling itself is satisfying, and that the more weight he puts on the more room he will have for food.

This is a man where if he is not calculating and questioning the things around him, the only other thing that is on his mind is food, and although it may make him seem one note, I find this aspect of him to be a really charming trait of him, especially these are traits that he fully embraces, and not even afraid of gaining weight, which is an unusual trait in other foodie characters.

It honestly saddens me to discover that Cassius barely gets any recognition in general, especially compared to the other characters that I enjoy, and now because he hasn't had that much new content in a long while, he has only barely had any new posts and content made on him in years, so I thought if there was anyone who could bring this wonderful character back in the spotlight, even for just a brief moment, I might as well do so.

Last thing, but if your ever wanting to read the full story for yourself, here is the link to the video down below. Know that the video is incredibly long, but is absolutely worth the watch!

[princessmaeee]

All for Us Part VI _ Final Part Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V

Hello Sweeties ! So as I saw in the votes, you asked for this L A S T par of this story, so there it is ! It's not that long cause I didn't had much to say. I just wanted to do a beautiful and simple end cause I think both deserve it. It wasn't a long Story, but it was long compare to everything I wrote in the last years and I'm proud of myself ! I realised later than the title is kinda bad cause I just made a bad translation from the french but the good title should be '' Everything for Us '' but I will let it like it is cause, Why not. My first Fanfiction in years, my first fanfiction I finishied since my highschool years ( 11 years at least ) and my first published Smut in Years too. Overall I'm proud of myself and I wish I will do more other stories and I hope to be able to finish them all. Thanks to everyone who followed and Love this story. I hope to see you again for other ones !

Tags : @private-vampire - @rafesbunniebby - @ultracoolnobody @chxrrybomb22

You didn't remember what happened after you voted to go home. It was the majority of you. You remembered Thanos voting X too, but after the light off, everything was fuggy. When you opened your eyes, you were on the dirty ground where you were picked when you joined the game. You had a blindfold, well you guessed it was it, who had felt it on your neck. Your feets and wrists were tied up and you could feel the cold breeze of the night. Those bastards let you in underwear in the middle of a street. Luckily for you, You noticed your clothes close to you and after a moment, trying to untie your wrist, you quickly do the same for your legs before putting on your clothes. 

Your phone was in the pocket of your sweater and of course, it ran out of energy. Your apartment keys were still in your jean’s pocket. 

You felt tired and durty. A good bath and 24h hours of sleep is going to be well deserved, but first, you need to check on something.

You go to the nearest convenient store and put your card in the ATM to take a look at your account. Your heart was racing in your chest. What if it was just a dream ? What if they lied ? 

Even if you didn't felt right to be happy, you couldn't stop smiling when you noticed the big amount of money you had in your account. Tears of joy appeared in your eyes, slowly cascading on your cheeks. Finally, The suffering and anxiety will be over. A hand on your stomach, you smiled at it.

«-I promise, You gonna have a beautiful Life…»

Once you got home, as you expected, the door locks were smashed. The guys who were chasing you for money probably entered the apartment while you weren't there.

Stressed, you opened the door and you felt sad to notice how everything was destroyed. This didn't look nice anymore, but you still have to stay there, at least until you could join Thanos or even that guy who messed up your apartment to give him the money. 

Plugging your phone to the charger, you start to clean around as much as you can. 

After a moment, when your house was clean enough for the energy you had, you go back to your phone and noticed a lot of unread messages from the guy who landed you money. Unsure, you text him back a simple ; I have your money. Let meet up Tomorrow.

You also get a Message, well, many, from Thanos. He seemed anxious about you and the baby.

“-Had you made it home yet ? “ -23h07 “-You can come to my place if you want “ 23h12 “-Or I can come over “ -23h13 “-Princess Are you all right ?” -23h20 “-I Got the money from the game. I can send you some if you want. “ -23h22 “-I know your debts are all my fault anyway…”-23h22 “-Seniorita Please answer me. Are you alright ? Is the baby’s fine ??!! ”-23h25 “-If I don't get an answer I'm going to show up at your place ! “-23h33 “-Okey I'm coming !! ” -23h45

You looked at the time : 23h55.  You smiled and answered him 

“-I'm fine, my phone Ran out of power. No need to come over. Go at your place and rest “ - 23h56 “-I want to rest with You. Gonna bring snack. What do you want ? Ice Cream and Pinault butter ?”-23h58 “-Im Fine!! And of course Not, I don't have  any weird pregnancy cravings. “-00h00 “-Not Yet ;) Anyway, still on my way…with snacks”-00h08

Your smile never left your face. Thanos was always really caring with you but somehow you feel like it was different this time, like he really made an effort and it made you happy.

When he arrived, he opened the door as you were still cleaning up the apartment. He looked around, visibly confused by all the mess around.

«-What happened here ? »

You explained to him the problems you got cause of your debts who’s also his or cause of him. Thanos felt bad you had to go traught all this cause of his addiction and helped you to clean as much as possible. Once everything was less messy, you both enjoyed some Snacks he bring and that’s when you realised how hungry you were. He bought you some of your favorite Ramen, chips and little cake. 

He also gave you an envelope with money. It was the exact amount you need to give to the guy you will meet tomorrow. He apologized and insisted you keep it. You felt touched by this and accepted his money.

«-I really want you to keep the money you get from the game for our child. And for Yourself, of course.  -What about your own debts ? -I will figure it out. And I still have some left so don’t worry about me. I want to go back to music and earn money of my own. I want to make you and our child proud. And for something else… -Something else ? Like what ? A home ? It's pretty expensive. -Well, not for a home, but it could be a plan for later. The other thing dépend more on your decision. -which is ? »

You both were sitting on your bed and Thanos got up  to kneel in front of you, gently taking your hand in his. You looked at him, breathtaking. Your heart stops beating for a second before it starts to beat faster. You could feel your eyes feeling with water.

«- Y/N would you accept to be my wife ? »

You were too shocked to answer. Tears flowing from your eyes as you just quickly nod  your head. It wasn't the romantic scene you always dream of, but coming from Su Bong it was the most romantic thing he ever did. Even if you were both exhausted, still in debts and even if you didn’t have a Ring for you, yet, this moment felt the happiest of your life. You throw yourself in his arms, still crying as you repeat ‘’ Yes ! ‘’ Again and again. Su Bong smiled and held you close, gently caressing your hair.

«-My dear and Beautifull Wife, He said before kissing you. »

This relationship with him was a total rollercoaster of emotion, but your love for each other was just too strong to let you away from each other. Faith does good things, sometimes.

The next day goes well, you got rid of your debts, Thanos started to go to therapy to avoid touching drugs again, so did you.

You moved In together, he worked on new music, new songs, starting to slowly go back on stage while you went back to school. You dropped one year ago but you chose an option you really like. It wasn’t easy with the pregnancy and Had to do a lot of school classes and take more time.

Life with your Now, fiancé wasn’t alway easy. When he felt the side effect of always being sober you fighted a lot, but at the end He apologies and you were understanding considering all the efforts he did for you, the baby and your relationship. Sometime, you fucked to avoid fighting or when Su bon needed a big high. He said you were his new addiction and even dedicated you to a song where He talks about how much He loves you and how you changed his life.

Eventually, you gave birth to a beautiful Daughter. Su bon said once he really would like to have a boy, but when He hold his little baby daughter in his arms for the first time, he almost cried and didn't let go of her. He quickly became over protective with her. He also wrote a song about her and it became a great hit. That’s how He were able to afford your engagement ring.

Your life goes back on track and you feel happy despite what you had been taught with the game. You and Su Bong got a matching tattoo with the number you were during the game as a sort of memorial for the ones who died in there but also as a reminder to yourself to be careful with your money and every decision you will take, cause you never want to live an experience like that ever again.

[00valentina-writes00]

Abby with gf who has an ed???

✞⛧ Abby Anderson with a girlfriend that has an ED ✞⛧

Tw: Mentions of ED

✞⛧ Abby notices before you even say anything. She’s observant, always watching you with those sharp, concerned eyes. At first, she doesn’t push, but she starts taking mental notes—how little you eat, how often you make excuses, the way your hands tremble when you go too long without food.

✞⛧ She’s so gentle about it. She doesn’t force you to eat or make you feel bad, but she always makes sure there’s food around. “I made extra,” she says casually, setting a plate in front of you. “Eat if you want.”

✞⛧ The first time you break down and admit you’re struggling, she just holds you. No judgment. No anger. Just strong, steady arms around you as she murmurs, “We’ll figure this out, okay? Together.”

✞⛧ She starts bringing snacks to share during patrols. “We gotta keep our energy up,” she says, handing you a protein bar. She takes a big bite of hers first, making a show of how good it is, hoping you’ll follow suit.

✞⛧ She’s so patient. Never makes you feel guilty. Never rushes your progress. Just steady, unwavering support.

✞⛧ She notices the way you stare at food sometimes, like it’s the enemy. The way you poke at it, move it around your plate, take tiny bites. It breaks her heart, but she never makes you feel ashamed.

✞⛧ When you’re feeling particularly low, she doesn’t ask you to eat—she just holds your hand, rubs her thumb over your knuckles, and reminds you she loves you no matter what.

✞⛧ She gets extra protective when she hears others making comments about food, weight, or body image. She hates that society still has a hold on people like that, even after the world ended.

✞⛧ If someone ever makes a rude comment about your eating habits, Abby sees red. “Mind your own fucking business,” she growls, stepping in front of you like a shield.

✞⛧ She takes time to learn everything she can about eating disorders. Finds old books, asks around, even talks to Yara about nutrition. Anything to understand what you’re going through.

✞⛧ She starts meal prepping with you, making it a bonding activity rather than a chore. “You don’t have to eat it if you’re not ready,” she assures you. “But let’s make something together, yeah?”

✞⛧ She makes sure your shared space is safe—no triggering conversations, no pressure, just love and understanding.

✞⛧ She learns the subtle signs of when you’re struggling—zoning out, irritability, dizziness—and steps in before things get bad. “C’mere, babe. Let’s sit for a second.”

✞⛧ She makes a habit of bringing you tea, especially when your stomach is hurting. “It’s warm,” she says, pressing the cup into your hands. “Just sip it, no pressure.”

✞⛧ If you have bad body image days, Abby will worship you. Kisses every inch of you, murmurs soft praises against your skin, makes sure you know how loved and beautiful you are.

✞⛧ When you have moments where you feel guilty about eating, she reassures you: “Food isn’t the enemy, babe. It keeps you strong. And I need you strong, okay?”

✞⛧ She’s a big spoon kind of girlfriend, always holding you close, always making sure you feel secure.

✞⛧ She starts cooking more, experimenting with different meals to find things that don’t overwhelm you. “Tell me what looks good to you,” she says, flipping through an old cookbook she found

✞⛧ If eating is too hard some days, she doesn’t push—you can just lay in her arms, and she’ll remind you that one bad day doesn’t erase all your progress.

✞⛧ She gives the best pep talks. “You’re doing so good, babe. Even on the hard days. I’m proud of you.”

✞⛧ If you’re feeling self-conscious about eating in front of others, she’ll make sure you have private meals together. “Just us, okay? No pressure.”

✞⛧ She’ll distract you during meals—talking about her day, telling you dumb jokes, playfully nudging your foot under the table—to take the stress off eating.

✞⛧ She makes sure you never feel alone in this. If you wake up in the middle of the night feeling guilty or anxious, she’s already pulling you into her chest, whispering, “I’ve got you.”

✞⛧ On days when eating feels impossible, she reminds you that small steps are still steps. “A few bites is still progress. I’m proud of you.”

✞⛧ She celebrates your victories, no matter how small. “You ate half of it? That’s amazing, babe.”

✞⛧ If you start spiraling, she grounds you—holding your face in her hands, pressing her forehead to yours, whispering, “You’re safe. You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

✞⛧ She never lets you feel like a burden. “You’d do the same for me,” she reminds you when you apologize for struggling. “And I love taking care of you.”

✞⛧ If you ever relapse, she never gets mad. She just holds you close and says, “We’ll try again tomorrow, okay?”

✞⛧ She’s your biggest supporter, your protector, your safe place. And no matter what, she’ll always be right by your side.

[marlynnofmany]

Aiming the Machismo

I’m on the tall end of our ship’s lineup. Not the biggest by any means, but with half the crew short enough to elbow in the head accidentally, and the others only that tall when they stand on tentacle-tip, it’s easy to think of myself as one of the big ones.

Sometimes we make deliveries to people who enforce that impression. Today was not one of those times.

“Move aside,” said the deepest voice, echoing from the opaque helmet of a Smasher in an armored suit. “Official business goes first.” His companion was just as hulking, with shoulders that looked like they wrestled buffalo for fun and hands that could crush a coconut.

I was glad he wasn’t talking to me.

“Official, huh?” demanded an Armorlite, sticking his dinosaurian face in close to bare teeth at the helmet. His voice sounded normal by comparison. “We’re official too, and we were here first. Get in line.” He was backed up by a half dozen similarly beefy individuals — a surprising collection, really: big Frillians and a couple extremely jacked humans. They made a wall of sneers worthy of any gym bro turf war.

The Smashers weren’t impressed. But at least they weren’t taking out any weapons. “Rule violators who are wanted in several systems have been spotted nearby. We’re here to capture them for the greater good. Move aside.”

The Armorlite laughed in his face, saying that they were bounty hunters too, and they weren’t about to let anyone get ship fuel before they did. The air was full of jeers and testosterone, or the alien equivalent. Some of the macho individuals were female. It made no difference.

It was unfortunate, though, since this mess was between us and the front counter, where a single put-upon Heatseeker stood behind a sign about repairs. I saw why none of the bounty hunters had gotten their fuel yet; apparently the dispensing nozzle for midsize ships was broken.

Good news. That’s what we were here to deliver, among other things.

I looked past the hoversled full of heavy machinery at the two most muscle-bound members of our crew, whose body language was currently more timid than usual. I guess they knew their place in the macho pecking order. Blip was glancing from one face to another as if trying to predict a winner, while Blop stood at attention and stared into the middle distance. All of their many frills were slicked back as if trying not to draw attention.

Well, I was a slender breakable twig compared to everybody except the little Heatseeker, and none of that was my problem. “Guys,” I said. “Let’s yell ‘delivery’ on three.”

They both looked at me instead of the nonsense. Blip nodded, standing taller and relaxing her frills into a more normal position. Blop took a deep breath that it sounded like he needed.

“One, two, three. DELIVERY!”

The argument stopped, and multiple dangerous faces turned in our direction.

I tugged the hoversled forward and spoke into the brief silence. “Repairs, so everybody can get their fuel faster!”

What do you know, the sea of biceps and teeth parted to let us through. With Blip and Blop pushing from behind even though the sled didn’t need it, I led the way past everybody taller than me to where the green-scaled Heatseeker waited.

“Thank you,” he said in relief. “That nozzle broke right after our regular supply ship left. Do you have time to stop by our sister colony on the fourth planet? We ordered extra of one of those other parts, and it sounds like they need it.”

“I think we can manage that,” I said with a glance at Blip and Blop. “Let me just check with the captain. Are the same rates okay?” Behind me, the arguing was getting loud again.

The Heatseeker agreed readily over the noise, and called somebody else up to the front to confirm everything. Instead of shouting into my phone or trying to get past all the competing pectorals twice more, I sent texts and invoices to whoever was in the cockpit.

Surprisingly enough, the boisterous voices moved their debate outside while we worked. By the time we got the delivery unloaded except for the part going to the sister colony, the room was quiet. I was glad for that, though worried about what we’d find when we left.

I asked the Heatseeker at the counter, “Have those bounty hunters been here before?”

He shook his scaly head. “No. I hope they finish their business soon and move on.”

I agreed. We said our goodbyes, then the twins and I maneuvered the nearly-empty hoversled back to the door. The only thing left on it was a bundle of cables for some sort of electronics. Thoroughly packaged to keep out dust, and tied down in case of unexpected jostles to the sled. I hoped there wouldn’t be any of those on the way to the ship. With a glance at Blip and Blop, I moved forward to open the door.

Cheers, grunts, and thuds greeted me. After one cautious step out onto the rural spaceport, I saw how the meatheads had decided to resolve their differences. It wasn’t by fighting. It also wasn’t a dance-off, which I’d seen once before. No, they were taking turns picking up empty fuel tanks and seeing how far they could throw them. It was very far.

“Let’s take the long way around,” I suggested.

“No kidding,” Blip agreed, pushing the sled faster. “Before they decide to throw us.”

I stepped quickly. “That’s an option to them?”

“Probably.”

Blop said, “I hope the sister colony is quieter.”

“Me too,” I agreed as we hurried to our ship with roars of triumph filling the air.

Surprisingly enough, the three of us got to see that sister colony ourselves shortly after. Usually our crew trades off in who hands over the deliveries, so it should have been Paint and Mur doing this second dropoff, but this was an unplanned one and they were busy helping deep clean the medical bay. So I went again with the Blip and Blop, and we got to appreciate a similar reception area with no slabs of beef causing trouble.

“This is a lovely place,” I told the Heatseeker with deep blue scales at the desk. Windows lined every wall here, giving us a view of rolling hills where cloud shadows drifted over bushy trees and equally bushy sheeplike things. The scent of spicy flowers wafted through.

“It is,” she replied, looking tired. “The aromatic moss on the trees is particularly beautiful.”

The other Heatseeker checking over the cables said, “Too bad the locals weren't making up their monster stories. If those were actually fake, I’d be a lot happier.”

“What monster stories?” I asked. Blip and Blop got more alert behind me.

At the same time, the first Heatseeker asked, “They’re not? Are we sure?”

The guy with lighter blue scales straightened up. “We’re sure. Another set of their livestock got killed last night, and more personal accounts of missing people have turned up now that we’re actually looking into it.” He gave me a glance. “We don’t know what kind of monster we’re talking about, but I have theories.”

I looked out the windows again. The scenery didn’t seem quite as welcoming now. “Is there a local predator eating people?”

The receptionist hurried to clarify, “Nothing gets eaten. The people always turn up again, and the animals are damaged but not taken away.”

Blip asked, “Have you put up security cameras?”

“Yes, that’s what this cable is for. We’re putting up more, and making sure they’re connected to a proper power supply.”

“But did the first ones see anything?” Blip insisted.

“Not the culprits,” said the darker Heatseeker. “We need to aim higher, I think. And adjust for light fluctuations. Whoever is doing this brings spotlights to upset the cameras. Or else it’s some sort of natural bioluminescence on a grand scale.”

The pale guy shook his head. “It’s definitely somebody in a ship. Creatures on foot wouldn’t be able to make those patterns in the plants, at least not that quickly.”

I whipped my head around. “Crop circles?”

“They are circular, yes.”

“So people are being taken,” I repeated. “Abducted, then returned, while livestock is getting mutilated and there are circles in their crops?”

“That’s about the size of it.” The guy gave me a sharp look. “You’ve seen this before?”

“Not personally,” I said with a frown. “But my planet sure has.”

“Oh!” said Blop. “It’s those little gray guys, right? I’ve heard about them. No morals at all.”

“Yes, them.” I felt my frown turning into a proper scowl. “They harassed my planet for generations, and never answered for it. They only left when we made contact with the broader galaxy. The frill-tearing mud eggs.” I made sure to insult them in both Frillian and Heatseeker terminology, to make sure we were all on the same page.

The darker Heatseeker looked appropriately scandalized. “That would fit with the way only the locals have seen them here. They must be avoiding us.”

“But maybe they’re about to leave soon, right?” asked the paler one. “Since they only like uncontacted prey who can’t report them?”

“Probably,” I said. I turned back to tap a finger on the payment tablet. “Let’s finish up quickly. I know just who to tell about this, and these little gray bastards are exactly the kind of rule-breaker they’ll outdo each other trying to catch.”

~~~

These are the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book.

Shared early on Patreon! There’s even a free tier to get them on the same day as the rest of the world.

The sequel novel is in progress (and will include characters from these stories. I hadn’t thought all of them up when I wrote the first book, but they’re too much fun to leave out of the second).

[stephstars08]

You Love Me?

Jason Todd x Vigilante!Reader

Warnings: Adult Language, Dark Themes, Mention of Death, Reader get’s Shot, Weapons, Violence, Angst, Fluff, and Possibly Grammar Errors. (Sorry if I forgot any!)

Summary: After Y/N literally takes a bullet for Jason she finds out a big secret he’s been keeping from her thanks to Dick.

Word Count: 1,583

Author’s Note: This is actually my first story of 2025😬! Last month I just didn’t have any motivation to write. Also sorry if this is sloppy and sorry for postponing the release date! I’ve been having pain in my back and neck! Anyways, hope you all enjoy this short story!

Y/N was in her vigilante suit on a mission with Jason. Y/N is very close with Jason so most of the missions she goes on, he’s always right there by her side. Y/N’s vigilante name is Shadow. She picked that name since the suit she wears makes her look like a shadow. Her suit is all dark gray and the mask she wears covers her whole face.

Y/N’s father was a police officer and he got killed in the line of duty by Scarecrow during one of his tirades. That event is what motivated her to become a vigilante. She never wants a kid to go through with that she went through. At first she was just doing it to protect her mother and little sister but as time went on she wanted to protect her whole city. She was seventeen when she started fighting crime and has now been doing it for three years now. She recently became a part of the Bat team.

Her and Jason were at the docks fighting some gang members. There was three of them so from time to time Y/N or Jason would be fighting two people at the same time. Y/N finally took the guy she was fighting down. She was finally able to catch her breath. Jason was still fighting his guy.

Y/N’s eyes went wide when she noticed the third guy pull out a gun and aim it at Jason’s back. “Shit!” Y/N hissed with worry. Right when the guy pulled the trigger. Y/N jumped in front of Jason. Y/N felt the bullet go through her side.

When Y/N screamed out in pain everyone stopped. Jason’s eyes went wide under his red helmet when he turned around and saw Y/N laying down on the cold ground. “Fuck!” Jason said with panic in his voice as he kneeled down next to Y/N.

“Let’s go boys!” The guy who pulled the trigger said to other two guys. Jason didn’t care that the gang members were getting away. All he cared about was Y/N.

Before Jason could ask where the bullet hit her he saw the blood coming out from her left side. “J-j-Jason” Y/N stuttered in pain. “Shh don’t speak.” Jason told her taking off his jacket and putting it down on her wound to ease the bleeding. Jason used the device in his helmet to call Bruce.

“Jason. What’s going on?” He heard Bruce said. Bruce already knew something was wrong since that’s the only time Jason ever calls him. “Its Y/N. She got shot.” Jason told him. “Shit!” He heard Bruce hiss out. “Where did the bullet get her?” Bruce asked him. “Her left side.” Jason answered. “I’m tracking your location now. I’ll be there as fast as I can.” He heard Bruce tell him. “Just keep her stable.” Bruce told him in a stern tone and ended the call.

Jason decided to take her mask off since he can hear her struggling to catch her breath. His heart ached seeing the painful look in her eyes. He pressed both hands down onto his jacket. “Just stay with me Y/N. Help is on the way.” Jason told her. Y/N gave him a nod which made her groan out in pain. “Don’t move. Just keep your eyes open.” Jason told her with worry in his voice.

He was trying everything he can do to stay calm. Y/N used all of the strength and energy she has to keep her eyes open. She felt like she was paralyzed everywhere but where her wound is.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

When Bruce got there him and Jason carefully helped Y/N into the Batmobile. Jason followed the Batmobile to the Batcave on his motorcycle. When they got to the Batcave Bruce and Alfred immediately took Y/N to the medical room. Alfred has patched up everyone so he knew exactly what he was doing. He’s taken bullets out of Bruce many times.

Jason was in the main room with Dick and Barbara. Jason couldn’t stop pacing back and forth. “Jason, you need to sit down. You pacing like that isn’t helping your nerves.” Barbara told him. “What if she doesn’t make it!” Jason said as he stopped pacing so he was looking straight at Barbara and Dick. “Jason, she’s going to make it.” Dick told him. “She’s in good hands, Jason.” Barbara said adding on to what Dick was saying.

“If I was fucking paying attention this wouldn’t of happened!” Jason said with a mixture of frustration and anger in his tone. “Woah, Jason!” Dick started. “There is no way in hell that this is your fault.” Duck told him in a stern tone. “Bullshit!” Jason hissed. “She took that bullet for me!” Jason said as his anger grew.

Bruce walked into the room. He was still in his Batman suit he just didn’t have his mask on. “How is Y/N?” Jason asked with worry as he quickly walked up to Bruce. “She’s going to be okay.” Bruce answered which made everyone in the room feel relief. “So relieved to hear you say that.” Barbara said with nothing but relief in her voice.

Y/N is Barbara’s best friend and Barbara doesn’t know what she would do without her.

“Luckily the bullet didn’t go through her.” Bruce told them. “Alfred got the bullet out of her side and is stitching her up.” Bruce added.

“Can I see her?” Jason asked with a pleading look in his blue eyes. Bruce answered his question with a nod. “Follow me.” Bruce told him. Jason followed Bruce back into the medical room.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

After Y/N woke up Bruce had Alfred take her upstairs to Wayne Manor. Since she needs a lot of rest for some weeks he’s letting her stay in one of the guest rooms.

A couple of days have passed and Y/N was still bedridden. Dick and Barbara just showed up to visit Y/N and see how she was doing. When they walked into the room they did notice that Y/N was starting to get some color back into her face. “How are you feeling?” Barbara asked her standing by the bedside with Dick right next to her. “A little better than yesterday.” Y/N answered.

“If I didn’t have those pain killers I would be so fucked.” Y/N added which made Barbara and Dick let out a little laugh. “Its good to know that your sense of humor is still in tact.” Dick told her. “Don’t worry. They didn’t shoot out my sense of humor.” Y/N told him with a small smile.

“I’m surprised Jason isn’t here.” Barbara said. Jason has been by Y/N’s side almost every hour of the day. It would take Y/N forever to get him to leave so he could get some rest of his own. “You guys actually just missed him.” Y/N told them. “We did?” Dick said with one of his eyebrows raised. “I made the dumb mistake of telling him I was craving truffles from that fancy chocolate shop.” Y/N said with a sigh. “But that shop is across town.” Barbara said. “That’s what I told him but he didn’t care.” Y/N told her. “Damn, he’s crazy.” Barbra said as she shook her head. Y/N couldn’t help but giggle.

“Hey cut the man some slack. A guy does anything when he’s in love.” Dick said which made Y/N freeze. Barbara looked over at Dick with wide eyes. “What?” Dick asked in confusion. “You just told Y/N that Jason is in love with her.” Barbara told him which made his heart sink. “Oh, um, yeah my bad.” Dick said with a nervous sigh. “He’s in love with me?” Y/N asked Dick in a surprised tone in her voice. “Yeah he um told me a few months back.” Dick answered knowing he can’t take back what he said. “Oh my gosh.” Y/N said as she felt nothing but shock.

“Jason is so going to kill you.” Barbara told him. “Yeah yeah I fucking know!” Dick hissed as he ran one of his hands through his raven colored hair.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

After Barbara and Dick left Y/N couldn’t stop thinking about what she just found out. Jason doesn’t just love her no, he’s in love with her. Y/N snapped out of her racing thoughts when Jason walked in holding a white paper bag.

“I’m back.” Jason said walking over to her bedside. “Your truffles.” Jason said handing her the white bag. “Oh um thanks.” Y/N said taking the paper bag.

Jason could immediately sense that something was wrong. “Everything alright?” Jason asked with concern in his voice. Y/N set the bag down on the table next to the bed.

“Are you in love with me?” Y/N asked taking Jason by surprise. “Who um told you that?” Jason asked her. “Dick might’ve let it slip out.” Y/N told him fiddling with her fingers. “That stupid fuck!” Jason snapped as he a ran a hand down his face.

Y/N grabbed one of his hands before he could get too worked up. “Jason.” Y/N said in a soft voice as she looked up at him. “Yes, I’m in love with you.” Jason confessed to her. Y/N lips turned up into a smile. She pulled him down and connected her lips with his’s. Jason immediately kissed back since he’s been waiting for this moment for a very long time.

They continued to kiss till they needed to pull away to catch their breath.

“I’m in love with you, too.” Y/N told him with a big smile on her face.

[yuripira4e]

Rather than devotion, I would argue It’s a matter of how much they take their relationship for granted. To me, because Spock was not often forced into random relationships with little emotional pull for the fans but he would act as if was his true love (cough Kirk), and just his general personality Spock is always shown as the “straight man” of the duo and this diligent, straight laced “Vulcan” way he is makes it that much more interesting when he will unadhere to any morals or beliefs for Kirk and no one else. Really our only example of someone he should be willing to do that for was T’Pring who he straight up doesn’t know and dislikes in regular canon. He’s consistent in his small acts of love and it adds up so wholly and fully and it is truly peak devotion. He would never disregard how meaningful their relationship is because he understands the weight of his actions and giving up his strict set of morals and makes his decisions to solemnly. But Kirk wouldn’t either. If anyone asked Spock is undoubtedly his best friend, his right hand, and the person he cares the most for. He shows this constantly with his actions (if we’re talking devotion let’s talk blowing up his entire ship, risking his career and life, and his just unrivaled desperation to get Spock back and make him remember him). However he’s also this charismatic, intelligent but impulsive, and not generally law abiding character. He’s forced into relationships constantly that the writers couldn’t write with the formula “he chooses Spock over them” because that would have been really too gay for that time period. Yet it didn’t stop him from doing it anyways. His wants and beliefs change so much and he loves so freely everything and everyone around him that it’s harder to see his devotion for Spock when it’s not so pronounced as “he would do this thing only for him” (minus the whole giving up his entire life for him snd never leaving when things got difficult part thing) but it’s also what Spock loves about him. Kirk wouldn’t be Kirk if he wasn’t willing to do whatever to save everyone he could and didn’t fall in love with the universe around him in ways Spock was always still learning to do and appreciate. Kirk takes his unfiltered love for everything around him for granted sometimes and the relationships it’s earned him. For main example, Spock. Kirk does choose women or adventure or whatever over Spock sometimes, never maliciously or even really genuinely because he always does choose Spock in the end, but the second he looses any connection or respect from Spock he’s right back where he belongs and wants to be. He takes their bond for granted sometimes because he truly acts like he couldn’t imagine it ever withering and no matter how down bad he is for the new woman he barely knows, he knows it couldn’t hold a candle and he doesn’t expect it to. (More angsty if you believe he just hadn’t really realized his own feelings and always thought of Spock’s love as a baseline for all his needs and his romantic pursuits as what he was supposed to add onto his life). He shows his love in big actions, with the same small ones as Spock littered through out. He thinks about him all the time and would disregard that love for life just for his love for him. His thought processes in some of the novels are crazy he’s truly never not thinking about Spock or if he isn’t he never questions their relationship or if he’d ever need to choose someone over Spock. Because simply put, he wouldn’t and everyone knows that. Neither are more devoted, they’re equally insane about each other. Anything Spock would do for Kirk, he would do 10x over in every universe, but their priorities and thought processes are different.

Don't get me started on how Spock is so much more devoted to their relationship than Kirk is.

[seiishindraws]

Hii, I saw your latest post and your art style is so pretty?? What?? I have a question though. How do you do the paint one? Or rendering in general. Like genuinely, I have a problem with rendering and I can't seem to quite understand it on my own. Do you just start with flat colors? Do you do lineart or colors right after the sketch? Is the "lineart" just added later? Painted over? Erased to give thinner and thicker lines?? I'm really curious!!

hi! im not the best painter tbh! though i do have a background in painting but ill try my best to explain

diff artists have different approaches to how they paint but generally yes, you would start out with big shapes first and then go into the details - work big picture first. like, if you squint and the drawing makes sense in terms of value and colour and shape, youre on the right path.

i can kinda show this with a warmup in-class speedpaint exercise we did a couple weeks ago where we were tasked with painting an eye in about 30 minutes (i was late and only had 20 lol)

luckily ive got the layers for this. i start of with a base layer, kind of like a underpaint layer since that's how i personally learned to paint traditionally. i did have a sketch before laying down this base layer under it but i ended up using it for final rendering details lol

after that i started laying down the big blocks of colour. i wasn't necessarily aiming for complete colour accuracy here, i just wanted to match the value. i chose a pink underlayer to influence my colour choices because the underlayer will peak through the blocks of colour i paint over it

and then (forgive me if this seems like "draw the rest of the owl" in terms of progression) but this is where i started going in with finer detail. i did the rest of the render on the sketch layer i had so you can see some of the lines from the sketch here

here's the layers completely seperate from each other

even for the flat colour version of my character, i had an underpaint layer! i used yellow and orange since i wanted her colours to be warm and used a semi-opaque brush to put her colours in rather than using a completely opaque brush

when i wanted to do the painted version, i put the lineart on multiply and reduced the opacity and brushed in some some quick shadows on seperate layer on hard light mode to give me a good base to start painting with

and then i did all the rendering and details on a new layer ontop of everything. i keep the lineart light so i can paint over it easily and also colour pick from it when i want a more distinct line to seperate certain shapes. i unfortunately dont know how to explain this part because a lot of this is intuitive to me and i'm still learning. but you gotta make use of different types of "edges" in painting, and you would generally have more contrast in the focal point of your painting than in other places to draw the eye to that point. i suggest researching the use of edges in painting if you really wanna learn more - because im a terrible teacher haha

for fun here's what the rendering layer for this one looks like on its own and the finished thing for comparison

there's other things you need to learn too, like bounce light, atmospheric perspective, ambient occlusion... and colour theory is always important! i could go on for a long time. there's a lot of pieces to the puzzle and it may seem overwhelming but there's tons of resources online and it will all become second nature to you as you keep practicing

uhh hope that helps!

[catboyposer]

I sort of roll my eyes when people say that "nostalgia" and "aesthetics" are bad and cringe and performative things that cloud your vision because like idk for me personally i lived thru the end tail of 2008 emo/scene (i was in elementary school lol) and then the random XD rage comics dubstep edm mustache and big hipster glasses era in 2011 and i liked all those things back then, and i still like them now.

Like the whole "you just like it cuz its old, just be urself ugh" type of thing makes no sense to me because ive always been the kind of person who once i like something i never stop liking it. I liked all this stuff when i was 10 and i still like it now that im 27. Whats so bad about having a blog archiving my interests lol. I suppose most ppl are generally annoyed less at people like me and more towards new generations who are "nostalgia posting" for an era they didnt live through. N its like. Sure i guess it can be a little embarrassing when they get certain facts wrong and spread misinformation but idk lol no one ever gives ppl a hard time when they like victorian era shit or whatever. You dont have to live thru a time to appreciate it.

I dont think stuff needs to be left and forgotten about just because its old and not currently relevant. I love new stuff too but i see new stuff every day in every place. So its nice to have a blog where i can look at all the older stuff. And once this new stuff is considered old, it'll end up on this blog too.

Idk its fun to like things i like everything.

[abrakuxas]

Have been reading Batman/Batfamily books from the 70s up and I'm currently at New 52.

I hate most stuff but that are some gems:

S

- Batman and Robin is great most of the time, I cannot complain. The moments I thought were not very much in character ended up being my mistake and I've managed to understand them as genuinely good moments. The arc of Damian's death and Bruce's reaction to it is great and very consistent with how he reacted to Jason's death so many years ago.

- Gotham Academy is almost perfect. I've read the first 6 issues and all the kids are so much fun for me. I don't really agree with Bruce's writing on this first issues? I feel like he is written colder than he used to be written around children. I feel like the writer is doing it from a place of what Batman/Bruce's vibe is, not really from actual understanding of his character, but that's fine cause the protagonist is biased against him anyway, so I can excuse it as her perspective on him. I'm excited to see Dami in the school, I feel like Robin's school life is probably one of the best ideas ever, it worked for Tim Drake before and gothic academy is a great vibe for Damian.

_________________________

A

- Batwoman is also very nice. I think I could've put it in S tier but I've occasionally found myself a little bored by it or skipping something cause it wasn't very interesting to me. Mostly I think Kate Kane is a great character as she had been pre flashpoint and her book did not suffer much from this terrible change in direction. That said I don't care for Maggie Sawyer, I miss Montoya's Question and her dynamic with Kate. I wish Nocturna was better developed as a character as well, as I feel like conceptually she is a great foil for Kate. Alice and Red Alice were not to my taste. The idea and vibes are good but it sometimes feels like a Harley Quinn ripoff that's trying not to be that? Not a very consistent character and having read Alice in Wonderland I feel like this character deserved far better.

- Batman Inc. is... Complicated. I'll just come out here and say it: I do not enjoy Morrison's writing of Batman. I feel like their writing is sometimes TOO meta to a point where they are talking more about the real world IP Batman™ and not so much about Bruce as an actual character. Everything is a big metaphor to what every character represents in our world and not so much what they feel and think, which makes it feel like everything happens in a dreamlike world of concepts and commentary on comics. It's comics about comics and that's boring to me. It's not badly written, just not my cup of tea. That said, this second volume of Batman Inc. was so much fun and at the time it made me FEEL things, even if they were occasionally bad things. I do not like Morrison's treatment of Thalia at all, but overall I rather read a bold yet controversial book than any of the other VERY boring and safey books that make up Batfamily books up until now.

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B

- the Batman title was not as bad as it could've been. The New 52 is overall a terrible idea and I've seen lots of people say Batman comics got the better treatment out of it and oh boy, I'm so sad for the rest of DC cause most Batman comics S U C K... The Batman title though is mostly fine. Scott Snyder is a good writer. Am I fan of everything he did with this run? Not at all, but he was bold enough to create things, lots of concepts from his run are very very fun and deserve to be core concepts of Batman. It means a lot that the Court of Owls is that popular when the last big villain we got was probably what, Hush? And Court of Owls for all it's flaws is such a better story than Hush anyway. I enjoy a lot of the relationships and character writing here too.

That said, unfortunately, A LOT of the stories are kinda too similar to other stories and feel repetitive if you've read a lot of comics. I've SEEN "Batman disappeared and we're worried about him" just before Flashpoint, I don't need Bruce to be away in a maze (even though it's far better written than Batman RIP to my taste), same thing with Endgame... I've read Contagion and we don't really need ANOTHER pandemic in Gotham. But anyway, maybe that's a me problem more than it is the books problem. Snyder is very competent and his stories can be very very fun and even though not every idea works for me, at least he treats characters with respect and care.

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C

Nightwing is the reason I started reading comics back when I met him in the Starfire goes to the future episode of Teen Titans cartoons and he was THE COOLEST GUY EVER. That said WHY is it that everytime they decide to give him a solo book he is 100% solo? Dick Grayson's best traits comes from his relationship. His weird older-brother-turned-father relationship with Bruce, his guilt towards Jason's death, his situationship with Barbara, his brotherly relationship with Tim and Damian, ALL of his Titans relationships. That's Dick Grayson. So WHY is he solo dealing with "the circus you grew up with is actually EEEEEVILLL and your childhood besties (WHO???????) want to kill you"? It's not just bad and boring, it's a weird trend that has started back with Chuck Dixon's run on him. That's a celebrated run that I don't understand, it's kinda fun at best but alienating at worst, which is sad cause Dixon's Batman run is quite good for Batfamily and Dick Grayson in my opinion. Anyway, this book sucks, what's next?

- Grayson. It's not necessarily badly written but who are this people? Give him back his suit, give Helena Bertinelli her suit and put them back in Gotham. Fuck Spyral and all cops are bastards, moving on.

- Batwing: I don't care for David Zavimbe, but Luke Fox had very fun writing and high stakes, I really enjoy this character, I wish he had more time and a better name. I like the idea of rich family boy finds out the reason all this Bat kids work is that they have absolutely no one except other super heroes and doing this with an actual, functional family is so fucking harder. This is not in C cause it's boring, it just had no time to cook better stuff, but I had lots of fun.

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D

Detective Comics, Batman Eternal and Batman TDK have the same problem: they are not actual stories about actual characters they are excuses to keep an IP. It lacks personality, it lacks anything of interest, it's Batman living through an eternal hell of generic stories that take him nothing to nowhere, you lose nothing by skipping this, this is what people that don't read comics think comics are: nothing happens and every week Batman just fights a guy again.

Batgirl: Gail Simone can write the hell out of Barbara Gordon... As an adult woman.... In a wheelchair.... With the Birds of Prey.... Why is this 35 year old calling herself Batgirl again? Disgusting, ableist and very boring. And the ableism isn't JUST on Barbara, her Brother's treatment is honestly horrendous. And Batgirl of Burnside is not much better with her Oracle persona turning into an evil algorithm that she needs to talk down and destroy??? Fuck you, DC comics. I will not get into the weirdly transphobic story of a guy doing drag as Batgirl being treated as a monster and ridiculous. I will add though: if you really needed a college age Batgirl, you HAD Stephanie Brown AND Cassandra Cain. Oh wait, NO YOU DIDN'T, CAUSE YOU DISAPPEARED WITH THEM, RIGHT YOU MORONS???? I cannot believe how much better this could've been if we got roommate Cass and Steph as Batgirls attending college together and how their different personalities work off each other and in class. Also Barbara Gordon being 21 is probably the most ridiculous thing I've ever read.

Red Hood and the Outlaws: absolutely nothing of worth here except a couple of Jason x Bruce scenes, but barely. Lobdell can't write a villain to save his life and all the characters are just either thrown into the trash or we have Jason who is not necessarily thrown into the thrash but for some fucking reason has random mystic powers and training....? I don't know, I feel like it's the most convoluted type of story I've ever read, he was raised from the dead by the League of Assassins, WHY does he have to go away from them and then train with ANOTHER also league of also assassins? Lobdell is AI Writing before AI writing existed, it's insane.

I've also read Teen Titans and I uh... Rather not talk about.