#I honestly might’ve even had more support back then then I do now

[killuaisaprincess]

I SOMETIMES THINK ABOUT THIS PERSON

[satorena]

❛ # MÉNAGE À TROIS ! ❜

ᡣ𐭩 featuring. g. satoru x reader x g. suguru

☆ warnings. explicit content. foul language. thrēēsome (mmf). getting caught in the act. ceo!satoru and secretary!reader make a comeback. jealous gojo. ceo!suguru but he’s a pervert. crēāmpie. fīngerīng. oral (f+m). backshots. afab!reader. feminine descriptions used.

ᡣ𐭩 serena's note. can be read as a stand-alone but it’s basically a continuing to unprofessionalism !

“are you—mmph, insane?!” you’re hoping your words are convincing enough to draw him back to his senses, despite them jumbling out your mouth and right into his. pressed up against the door of the empty bathroom, your legs are spread apart in favour to be supported by a strong thigh. big hands slide from your lower back to your ass, and squeeze, forcing a moan out of you. “we’re in public— we’ll get caught!”

when gojo does give you space to breathe, a thin string of saliva connects from his bottom lip to yours. he pants heavily, lips shaded a hue of cherry red as the corner of his mouth tugs into a sadistic smile, “yeah but don’t that make it more excitin’ though?”

you blink at him, the thought having already crossed your mind. you weren’t in any position to oppose as you’d even gone commando to a formal business dinner all due to your perverted boss’ orders. but a lot would be at stake here— you both could lose your jobs if caught, and you’d most likely be labelled a whore for the rest of your career. naturally, that was the last thing you wanted, and yet—

“quit overthinkin’ sweets,” you’re pulled out of your train of thought when his bulge grinds against your core. you gasp, eye lids fluttering shut as a rush of heat spreads in your gut. you feel his hands grip your waist and drag your hips forward, angling your body at a perfect position enough to force a whine out of you.

he leans forward to seal his lips with yours yet again, and you foolishly kiss him back. gojo pulls away too quickly for your liking, though his lips trail from the corner of your mouth to trail hot kisses at your jaw, to the slope of your neck. “promise we’ll be quick, don’t worry ‘bout it.”

“b-but,” you stammer, head thrown back against the cold surface of the door as your fingernails claw to the fabric of his expensive blazer. you try to recollect your thoughts, perfectly aware of how risky this entire situation could be. you do not get wetter because of the idea of getting caught—no way, you’d rather blame it on the stimulation of your clit rubbing against muscly thighs. “i could lose my job! or worse, we could lose our jobs—”

“‘m not gonna let that happen.” gojo cuts you off sternly, hand leaving the dip in your waist in favour of cupping your jaw. his index raises your chin, enforcing eye contact between you both to ensure his certainty. there isn’t a shred of doubt in those cerulean orbs, gaze intensely strong as opposed to your shyer one.

the arm at your hips snake around the perimeter of your lower back to hug you snugly against him. you’re entirely at his disposition— body trapped between the door and his much larger frame towering over you, and you hate the way your chest tightens at the unreadable look on his face.

“ever.” he repeats more firmly, before planting a short kiss onto your lips. you’re taken aback from the intimacy behind the kiss, as if he really were trying to reassure you you had nothing to worry about it. he might’ve been reckless and utterly stupid, but when it mattered, he really could be reliable. “do ya trust me?”

“yes.” you answer honestly, and the grin he offers at your response confirms every shred of doubt you’d had in mind. of course you’d do this— you were as much unprofessional as he was.

“that’s my girl.” you jolt at the firm blow landed on your ass. when your lips fall into an annoyed pout, he’s quick to kiss it away, beaming at you like a child on their way to a candy store. “now go face the mirror f’me— needa apologize for not properly treating you right the last time.”

you’re sure he’s referring to your last encounter in his office when he’d decided to punish you for bad mouthing him by skipping oral, if the way he hiked your dress up to your hips, kneeled on the floor and spread your pussy lips apart said anything. you shiver from the cool air he breathes at your aching cunt, fingers gripping the ceramic sink before you.

“shitttt,” you moan, head lolling forward when you feel his tongue swipe from your clit all the way near your rear end. gojo latches his lips onto yours, and feasts like a starved man. he rotates his tongue into motions he knows will have your knees buckle the way it does, flicks it at your a swollen leaking clit, and fucks it in and out of your clenching hole. “f-fuck, satoru, oh my goddd!”

he groans loudly into your cunt, big hands gripping an asscheek each as he divulges into your core. you’re a slippery mess, and you can’t imagine how soaked his face must be by how sloppy he tugs and nibbles onto your labia, drinking up any fluid you have to offer him. he makes it nearly impossible to keep alert of any upcoming visitors— any time you attempt to regard the door, just a peek over you shoulder, he plunges his canines into the flesh of your ass and spanks at your cunt. it’s as if he wants you to completely trust and rely on his word.

“nah uh princess.” you feel the impact of the coolness of his rings against your warm folds, mixture of saliva and your juices splurting as he spanks you. you feel your thighs trembling as you whine, eyes rolling to the back of your skull from the pleasurable pain. “you’re offendin’ me over here. focus on me—not that damn door.” if you didn’t know any better, he was definitely pouting with a mouth full of your cunt.

how ridiculous.

“‘m just tryna w-watch out for the doo—ooohh!” his tongue finds its way to your clit and you officially give up. completely surrendering yourself to his disposition, you let your guard down and allow him to ravish you whole.

it’s proven difficult to keep your eyes on yourself as you watch your reflection through low lidded eyes— gloss smeared on your swollen lips as fat tears build at your lower lash line. your neck and chest littered in love bites, areas that are incredibly visible to the public. and under any other circumstance, you would’ve made a big fuss about it, but you simply couldn’t care with gojo’s index and middle finger pumping in and out of your sopping pussy.

you’re irresponsible and foolish, and admittedly shameful as you feel the infamous knot of arousal in your core tightening. your knees feel wobbly, and you’re moans tune into a higher pitch as you claw the marble sink. gojo reads your body language well, his pace steady as he simultaneously finger fucks your cunt while lapping at your bundle of nerves.

you shoot him a look behind your shoulders, the sight of your boss on his knees aiming to please you admittedly quickening the process, “s-satoru, fuuuck, ‘m gonna cum!” you whimper, bottom lip tugged into your teeth. you remove your death claw grip on the sink in favour of carding your fingers through a set of fluffy hair.

he cocks a brow behind snowy locks, cerulean eyes peering at you with sheer intensity. he knows you’re close, could’ve guessed from how tightly you clamped down on his tongue, and he’s aiming to give you the best damn orgasm you’ve ever felt in your life because you deserve it.

it takes one, two, three jabs of his fingers at that spongy spot against your muscles for the dam to break. and it all happens too damn quickly to register—your eyelids beginning to shut close as your cunt squirts onto gojo’s face with the addition of an indifferent suguru geto at the bathroom door—

wait. wait wait wait.

your eyes nearly fall out of their sockets as you’re quickly drawn back into reality, “oh shittttt— shit! w-wait, toru, hol’on a second ‘m— he’s right there— fuckin’ hell!”

it’s like he’s doing it to fuck with you, deliberately ignoring your pleas as he swirls his tongue deeper into your high. it takes a forceful grab of your fingers at his scalp to remove him away from your cunt, and even that makes him moan.

his skin is botched red and glistening wet in your arousal, a childish pout resting on his shiny lips. he looks like a child who you’ve confiscated his jar of cookies for overeating, “what’s the rush, princess? y’re kinda killin’ me here, ‘m not done with you just yet.”

“so is she the girl?” geto shuts the door behind him, back resting against the flat surface. he cocks his head to the side and presents his infamous smile— the one you’ve seen briefly in the hallways as you passed by him, on your way out of your boss’ office.

“hmm?” gojo tilts his head to the intruding voice, and when his eyes fall onto his colleague, he lazily shrugs his shoulders, as if his appearance had been the most natural thing. “oh, suguru—what’re you doin’ here?”

“they’ve sent me to come find you both as the closing speech is soon commencing,” geto pushes himself off the door and takes long strides towards you both. “though i did have my suspicions— turns out i was right. satoru, you fuckin’ whore.”

your heart beat wildly against your chest. your mind raced a mile a minute, thoughts in turmoil as you fought between the fear that settled im your gut from being caught by another worker but simultaneously feeling your cunt ache at getting caught by another worker.

“heyyy, that’s fuckin’ rude,” gojo squints his eyes at his friend, a firm hand raising to spank your ass. you jolt from the impact as you squeal, your face heating in embarrassment at the situation. “she isn’t the girl, she’s my girl. there’s a difference and you oughta learn it.”

geto waves a hand around as if to dismiss his complaints. “yeah yeah, sure.” the ravenette stops before you, and for the first time you notice just how much tall he is too. a large frame sitting in an expensive tuxedo towering over your bent form, leaning forward to sit at an eye-level with you.

your lips part, as if to weakly defend yourself from the shameful situation you’ve found yourself in, but before words can escape your throat, you feel his knuckles grazing along the slope of your jawline. the gentle touch begins at your jaw and trails down to your chin, where the pad of his thumb then fondles at the corner of your mouth.

there’s a hypnotic look in his eyes— a seductive gaze stuck in the endless pools of purple as he stares you down. despite still being clothed, you feel naked beneath his gaze, and yet you can’t find yourself looking away, even when he hooks his thumb into your mouth.

“hi beautiful. mind tellin’ me your name?” geto asks, the melody of his voice so honeyed that you can’t help the automatic response you give him. he chuckles, pulling his thumb out of your lips and swiping the wet digit against your bottom lip.

“gorgeous name for a gorgeous beholder,” you’ve heard that line before, most likely from your boss, and if it ever came out corny then, then it certainly didn’t feel corny now. “tell me y/n, has satoru taken care of you properly?”

gojo interrupts, taken aback by the nerve of his friend’s assumption of him. “what— of course i have! who do you take me for?” you can hear the whine through his words, though you were still entirely stuck in a trance by the man before you. “baby, tell ‘im i took good care of ya!”

“mind if i take a look?” geto cocks his head to the side, the tip of his nose grazing yours. blinking, you suddenly realized the proximity of the man before you, warm breath fanning above the dip of your cupid’s bow. “promise i won’t take too long. feel free to say no.”

and rationally speaking, you should’ve said no. you should’ve taken the outing and tell him it was unprofessional and entirely risky since you’d already gotten caught by him, and had it been any other worker, you would’ve surely been black balled for the rest of your career days. and yet, the way his touches felt comforting and safe, fleeting from the back of your neck down to your arms and chest, another around your torso—

oh fuck it. “yeah, g-go ahead.” you nod instead, your mind telling you one thing but your pussy telling you another.

“whaaaaat?! y/n!” gojo complains, but geto’s quick to smile at you, going as far as calling you a ‘good girl’ before quickly shoving gojo out of the way. he crouches down as gojo rises to his full height, one hand holding onto your cheek and spreading it as the other grips onto the back of your thigh.

you suddenly feel very aware of the situation at hand, and lower your head in shame, teeth nibbling onto your bottom lip. you feel like a slut— your pussy casually being inspected by another high figure at your workplace, meanwhile your boss leans against a nearby wall with his arms crossed over his chest and a deep frown on his face.

“not bad satoru.” geto teasingly praises his friend, the grip on your cheek spreading the flesh further apart, as your sticky cunt squelches in result. your lips then follow suit as they spread, and geto abandons the hold on your thigh in favour of swiping his thumb to collect all of your juices, before popping it in his mouth. “mmhm, she’s all wet and sweet too. can’t believe you were holdin’ out on me man. i feel betrayed.”

“ever considered the fact i don’t want to share her with anyone? much less you?” gojo retaliates, pushing himself off the wall to stand beside you. your brows furrow at his words, eyes following his steps before he plants himself at your side.

geto chuckles, an sleek eyebrow raising up, “oh?”

gojo ignores his friend in favour of directing his attention towards you, pushing your hair away from your face and behind your ear. you blink at him through thick lashes, tilting your head into the warmth of his palm at your cheek, “if you don’t want this at any time, just lemme know and i’ll kick his ass, yeah?”

“wait.” you hold onto the wrist near your face, and his blue eyes follow the point of contact before returning to your eyes. you suddenly feel bashful as he stares at you as if you were the only girl in the world. “wanna suck you off too. . . y’know, as a payment for earlier.”

“yeah?” his smirk returns to his face, fiddling with a piece of your hair between his fingers. you roll your eyes despite the smile that crept at your own lips. “i dunno sweets, it’s startin’ to sound like you’re in love with me or somethin’.”

“not even in your wildest dreams, satoru.” you scoff, grabbing the hand that played with your hair to rest it above the mounds of your chest. the fleeting touch of his fingers against your perky buds through the thin material of your dress has you humming in pleasure. you watch as his eyes light up like a child on christmas day, the smirk on his lips stretched even wider as he cups onto your sensitive flesh.

gojo pushes the material of your dress aside to free your tits, watching the recoil as your bud comes to contact with cooler air and instantly stiffens. “oh come on—you can admit it princess, y’know i won’t hold it against you.”

you lick your lips, “give me a break toru— hngh, fuck!”

“oops, my hand slipped.” geto comments, running his fingers up and down the entrance of your folds. you can tell by the sound of his voice that it was definitely not an accident, as he dips his fingers in and out of your cunt, drawing out moans from you.

you fail to see how gojo frowns, a bitter look on his face as his best friend snatches your attention away from him. it’s soon replaced by admiration when your face contorts into that beautiful look you make whenever you’re completely over washed with pleasure— and even if it isn’t him offering you that euphoric feeling, he feels his cock twitch in his slacks regardless.

“toruuuu,” you call out his name, your gaze unfocused as you stare him up with doe eyes. you watch as he gulps, completely enamoured by you. “whip it out already, need it in my mouth.”

you giggle as he wastes no time, fumbling with the belt at his slacks before dropping them to his knees. he pulls out his cock from his dampened briefs, dick standing tall in arousal. veins decorated the sensitive skin all over, his mushroom tip a raging red as it dribbled pre cum. you could feel your mouth salivate at the look of his dick alone, balls hanging heavily full of cum.

he tightens his fist around the perimeter of his cock, dragging it down from the base all the way up to his tip, a guttural moan heaving from deep in his chest. he’s taunting you, and you shamefully feel your cunt dampen at his wanton sounds, “ngh, you ready baby?”

from behind you, you hear geto’s slacks also fall down to his ankles as he pumps his own hardness right against the cleft of your reddened cheek. he taps the tip of his dick against your soft flesh, watching the recoil of your ass bouncing on his cock, panting heavily as his words come out breathily, “you—shit, good to go, y/n?”

you nod eagerly, legs spreading for stability as you bend your upper body forward. your hands grip around the firm muscle of gojo’s thighs, and your nose nuzzles in the bush of snowy pubes, his musk clouding over your senses in a familiar way. your tongue lolls out as it rolls over the sensitive skin of his ballsack and sucks, and gojo whines, hand immediately flying to the back of your head to grip at your hair tightly.

you can feel the tip of geto’s dick pushing past your first ring of muscle, and you attempt to relax the muscles of your body at the intense intrusion of his penetration. he’s fucking girthy— much thicker than gojo, though not as lengthier. he’s stretching you out in ways that has your limbs liquify in heat, fingernails clawing deeper into gojo’s pale skin.

“fuck, shit, you gotta loosen up f’me baby— you’re too tight,” geto grunts, hands gripping tightly at your waist as he lurches forward. your stomach tightens in lust as your thighs tremble, the intrusion of his cock balls deep in your cunt melting your brain. he’d just bottom out, and you already felt on cloud nine.

“feel s’good, ngh fuckkk—mmph!” your mouth is suddenly full, the familiar taste of saltiness resting on the pallets of your tongue. you hear gojo above you moan pathetically, hips already rutting desperately into the warmth cave of your mouth.

you’ve sucked him off plenty before and so you know just how he likes it— sloppy and tight. you hollow your cheeks and stay mindful of your teeth, as you relax your throat muscles and let him work his magic.

“there’s my good girl, fuck yeah— y’know jus’ how i love it, dontcha?” gojo smiles down at you, thumb grazing at the dent in your cheek. he drags his thumb over the outline of his cock against your face, “what a fuckin’ beauty, shit, keep doin’ great for me, hnghhh, ‘m gonna bust soon.”

“already?” geto teases, thrusts languid as they match the pace of his friend’s. his hips meet the curve of your ass in hypnotic bounces as your ass ripples off his pelvis, and gojo’s quick to roll his eyes.

“fuck you,” it’s meant to come off as an insult but when you take him even further down, a gag tightening around the length of his cock, it trails off into a desperate moan.

“no thanks, ‘ve got your pretty little secretary here.” geto hisses when your pussy clamps down on his cock. he feels sweat begin to collect at his hairline, and focuses on the grip of your folds latching at his dick desperately.

you feel a firm blow at your ass cheeks, your muffled whines echoing in the room at the stinging pleasure. you attempt to run away from the impaling dick in your stomach, but you feel geto’s hands grab at your hips, stabilizing your limp body before a hand rises up and pushes your back into a curve.

“and where do you think y’re goin’?” geto tuts, hips angling at a new position, one that draws a broken mewl from your sore throat. every moan resonates against the dick stuffed in your mouth, and the sounds travel from gojo’s tip all the way to his stomach, as he feels his balls tighten.

“oh god baby, y’can’t do that to me!” gojo mewls, matted locks glued to his forehead from excessive sweat. you feel his droplets trickle down to your forehead, dribbling down your face and combining in the mixture of fluids leaking from your lips.

you feel his dick twitching in your mouth, a telltale that he’s bound to bust his load in no time. you release a hold from his thigh to cup at his balls, gently fondling with the sack as you bob your head forward to match his pace. saliva pools from the corner of your mouth and dribbles down your chin to the floor.

geto leans forward, chest pressed against the arch of your back. his breath is warm and tickles at the column of your hickey-littered neck, and the stretch of his girthy cock spreading the tight muscles of your rim has your stomach knotting in foreign pleasure.

his hand creeps in between your thighs, fingers toying with your aching clit as his lips graze at the shell of your ear, “love havin’ this clit of yours played with?” he purrs in your ear, lips ghosting over the goosebumps of your skin, and despite being gagged, you nod your head frantically in response. he’s bottomed out, balls deep inside your cunt, grinding his hips and rubbing his cock into areas you had yet to explore. “such a good slut f’me, ain’t that right?”

“for me– ngh, me too!” gojo argues childishly, quivery pink lips falling into a pout. he runs the pad of his thumb against your cheek, hooking his fingertip at the corner of your lips, thus painfully widening the hole of your mouth.

tears quickly build up at your lash line, vision blurring when you feel geto pull back up, landing blow after blow on the planes of your ass. the harsh impacts and rough thrusts has your backside ricochetting against his pelvis, your pussy clenching uncontrollably. the sensation was one that left you speechless– besides gojo’s lengthy cock occupying your throat. it was most definitely an uncomfortable stretch, but every now and then, when you’d feel the coolness of geto’s rings trailing down your inner thighs and the pad of his fingers soothing the ache at your clit, it easily subsided into pleasure.

“shitttt, just wan’ stay in your mouth forever,” gojo whines loudly, head thrown back with his brows cinched. he’s completely forgotten about your own comfort, fucking into your mouth for the sake of his own pleasure. you watch as his abs contract, chest heaving deeply, adam’s apple bobbing up and down. 

another gag rips out of your mouth when gojo abruptly plows into your mouth, your nose all the way to his snowy white pubic hairs. he moans all prettily, hand clutching tightly at your hair at the back of your head, before pulling away and repeating the same motions, “hell yeah baby– just like that, fuck.”

with tears now streaking down your cheeks, your mouth salivates uncontrollably as you clamp down on suguru’s cock, balls heavy with cum as they slap against your clit.

“shit—fuck, hold on,” geto hisses, thrown off by gojo’s sudden pace. purple orbs trail at the curve of your back all the way up to your bobbing head, when he’s hit with an idea. you fail to see it, but the smirk he shoots at his best friend is enough to telltale. you can only realise they’re up to no good too late, when gojo mirrors the smirk before him.

“match my rhythm and watch how quick she’ll cum.”

and embarrassingly enough, you feel the knot in your stomach tighten when you’re pounded into roughly from behind. their pace now much quicker and rougher, your broken moans turn into gargles around gojo’s shaft, and in an attempt to run away from the overwhelmingly thrusts stretching at your pussy, you instinctively move forward, only to choke around a twitching dick. you then realise their plan, when you try to pull away from the mushroom tip stroking at your uvula and wind up back into geto’s possession, balls deep in your cunt.

well shit.

they treat your body as if it were a fleshlight– a mere toy for their own pleasure, and you couldn’t deny the objectification of your body at their dispense had your body tense in straight arousal. the bulge in your throat and musky scent of gojo’s bush overwhelming your senses, and the thickness of geto’s shaft tearing your hole apart had you coming undone quicker than you’d like to admit.

“oh yeahhh,” geto whistles, never letting up his pounding as you leak through your pussy like a faucet. “look at that pussy go– clenchin’ down on me like a whore. y’fuckin’ love it when we slut you out like this, hm? our very own cumdump– shit, gonna fill you up nice ‘n good.”

“that’s my pretty baby— mmhm, swallow every last drop, mkay?” you feel your mouth being filled with warm spurts of cum, thick ropes shooting down your throat as gojo groans. “s’good for princesses like you, fuckkk, better open wide.”

✧.*

“i’m. . . gonna get goin’ now. you two stay back.” you tug at your dress, fixing your appearance with a nod before exiting the bathroom.

the two friends are left in the space as they run water against the heat of the skin, cleaning up any trace of mess they’ve left behind. the silence is incredibly loud, despite the faucet leaking water into the sink.

“she’s cute. i see why you like her.” geto comments, rolling his sleeves up before pumping his hands full of soap. he clicks his tongue against his teeth, “definitely piques interest.”

“suguru.” gojo deadpans, staring him down through the reflection of the mirror. geto looks up and returns the stare, though the crease of his cheeks through his smile sets gojo off wrongly. he can tell what his friend is thinking, and he doesn’t want to play this game— not with you.

“don’t. . . please. just don’t.” gojo breathes out, chest rising up and down. he doesn’t realize his fists are balled tight, nor that there’s a frown on his face. “she’s different, and i really like her. if you consider yourself my friend, you won’t.”

geto eyes him through slanted eyes, washing off the suds of soap on his palms before turning off the tap. every second passes by agonizingly slow for gojo as he watches his friend move. his tongue feels heavy in his mouth and his chest uncharacteristically tight.

he walks to the paper towel dispenser, before drying his hands and shoving the paper down the garbage. gojo’s eyes trail his every move yet again.

finally, purple eyes meet his and they curve into that infamous smile— one that could send chills down your spine if not on his good side.

“yeah, i got you.”

thank you @nantoji for beta reading 🙂‍↕️.

[atlabeth]

geyser

series masterlist

pairing: luke castellan x daughter of poseidon!reader

summary: percy learns about the first girl luke castellan ever loved.

a/n: this is a lil sad. sorry about that. but i really like it and it came out of nowhere in like 2 days so i hope you enjoy despite the sadness. title from the mitski song

wc: 6.5k

warning(s): major character death; not shown but hangs over the whole fic. angst made angstier by fluffy flashbacks. mostly told through percy’s pov but includes luke, annabeth, and reader povs

also if you saw this before on another account DONT WORRY... that account was also me. im just doing some stuff behind the scenes right now as i figure stuff out lol i promise no plagiarism is going on

Percy thought that his head might explode. 

He didn’t know how he was still walking, honestly. His mom died, he killed a— no, the— Minotaur, all the Greek myths were real and his dad was one of them, and now he had to deal with that freak accident with Clarisse and the toilets. 

At least he would be ready next time she tried to beat him up. Percy had been the new kid enough to know there would be a next time.

All he could do was stare at the Minotaur horn in his hands, the only sign that what happened outside the border was real. The horn in his hands and the hole in his heart. 

Percy swallowed the lump in his throat. He’d been thrown into the deep end, and the only thing on his mind was when he would start to drown. 

“Hey.” Percy looked up to see the counselor he’d met earlier with Annabeth—Luke. He tossed a ziploc bag at him and he caught it, taking a moment to look at what was in it. 

“I stole you some toiletries from the camp store,” he explained. “Thought it might make you feel more at home.” 

“…Thanks.” He didn’t know if Luke was joking, but the damage had already been done. And it was the nicest thing someone had done for him so far. He set it down next to his Minotaur shoebox. “Is this the best that it gets?” 

Luke’s lips quirked up in a slight smile. “For now. We’re a little crowded, if you couldn’t tell.” 

“Just a little bit.” Percy stood up from his sleeping bag and worked out the knot in his shoulder. “Where’s your bed? Assuming you have one.” 

“I couldn’t wrangle all these cats without some back support,” he said, and he pointed to a bed in the corner. It was the only one on its own without a bunk, and he had a fair amount of decorations. Counselor privileges, he figured. Percy walked over, Luke trailing behind him. 

“Nice place,” he said. Percy picked up the Yankee’s cap on his bedside table and nodded as he looked back at him. “Nice taste.” 

“It’s for Annabeth,” Luke said. “She wanted us to match.” 

Percy nodded again in approval. “Good taste for both of you.”

Luke had various other things around — an alarm clock knocked over next to the baseball cap, a huskie sticker on the wall half-scraped off, a poster for an album he didn’t recognize. 

But the thing that caught his eye was a polaroid hanging on the wall, surrounded by a smattering of others varying in size. 

The first one had to be an old picture—Luke didn’t have his scar, and the biggest smile stretched across his face. He had a girl close with an arm slung around her waist, and she might’ve been smiling even more than Luke. A bright energy emanated around her, something that must have transferred through the picture, because Percy found himself feeling a little better just looking at her. He wondered if she was a camper. 

His eyes flicked to the next picture, which was another one of Luke and that girl. They were both laughing as she tried to put a blue hat on Luke’s head, and he protested with a hand on her wrist. They were in the forefront of a baseball game, Percy noticed.

There were other pictures, too—Luke, a girl dressed all punk, and what looked like a young version of Annabeth, most notably—but a majority of them were either Luke and that girl, or the girl all on her own. In every single one, she beamed brighter than the sun. 

Percy pointed at the picture of Luke and the girl at the baseball game, his curiosity getting the better of him. “Who’s that?”

That seemed to catch Luke off-guard, his lips parting for a moment as if he wanted to say something. It barely took him any time to get back on track, but Percy found himself frowning. 

“That’s…” Luke cleared his throat, wet his lips, shook his head. “A friend. A very good friend.”

“Does she go here?” Percy asked. 

“She did.” 

He frowned. “Where is she, then?” 

“Percy—” Luke’s voice was strained, but he didn’t really notice as he went on. 

“I didn’t see her around,” he continued, “and you look pretty close.” 

Luke blinked a couple times, and Percy swore he could see the telltale glimmer of tears starting in his eyes. A muscle worked in his jaw, and suddenly Percy was worried that he’d said something horribly wrong. He had a talent for that, it seemed. 

Fortunately, he was saved by the bell—conch shell?—and something like relief flooded through Luke’s expression. Tension still coiled in his body. 

“Come on,” he said, that camp counselor smile coming back as he put his hand on Percy’s shoulder and guided him away from the enclave. “That means dinner’s about to start.”

Percy’s frown deepened as curiosity won out again. “Was she your—”

“You don’t wanna be late,” Luke continued, ignoring his attempt. “I assume you’re pretty hungry after two days spent out?”

Well, that only made him want to push harder. But Percy figured he wouldn’t get anything out of him—especially not now. 

“…Yeah,” Percy said. “Starving.”

An odd look flickered across his face, but again, it only lasted for a second before he was back to normal. He cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled, “Eleven! Fall in!” 

Percy was at the back of the line by virtue of him being the new kid, and he found himself looking back at that picture of Luke and the girl. He didn’t know why, but something drew him to her. Before Percy could think about it more, the line was moving and his growling stomach drew his attention away. 

He would have plenty of time to ask Luke about it later. 

Or rather, ask him and piss off the only person who’d tried to be his friend so far. 

…Gods. 

Maybe he was going to drown sooner than he thought. 

-

“Luke—” 

“No!” 

“Luke, please!” 

“Annabeth will kill me if she knows—” 

“She won’t know!” 

“Alright, alright— stay still, you two!” 

Your mother laughed from behind the camera as you and Luke fought with each other, you trying your damnedest to get your Red Sox cap on his head as he tried his damnedest to stop you. The frantic laughter on both sides made it a little difficult for either of you to succeed in your quest, but eventually, you got the rock up the hill and the hat on his head. 

“Take the picture, Mom!” you exclaimed, pulling Luke even closer by his arms so he couldn’t get it off. “I need the proof!” 

“I knew this was a bad idea,” Luke groaned, staring at the camera as you wrapped your arm around his side and leaned into him. He could already imagine your victorious smile, brighter than the sun beating down on them in the stadium, and just the thought of it made one of his own flit across his lips. 

“Oh, shut up, Castellan,” you said. “You chose to come to this game. Everyone’s gonna know you’re a Red Sox fan now.”

“You said you wouldn’t tell her!” Luke defended, wrenching his arms free of your control to take the hat off his head. “I don’t even care about baseball!” 

“You care so much about it,” you said cloyingly, “and you’re ride or die for the Boston Red Sox.” 

“If you say a single word—” 

“Okay, kids!” Your mother pointed at the seats next to her. “The game’s about to start—you can keep arguing, but only if you sit down so I can see.” 

“Sorry, Mom.” You grinned at her as you pulled Luke over to your seats—they were a step up from nosebleeds, but they were the ones closest to the balcony so you could at least peer over the railing down to the diamond.

“It’s alright, sweetheart.” She glanced at Luke with a smile, and he could really see where you got it from. “We’ve gotta make him a fan somehow.” 

“I guess I can live with the brand.” Luke set the cap back on your head once you were seated, purposefully pulling the brim a little over your eyes, and he smiled at you. “Even though it looks better on you, anyways.” 

“You just don’t have what it takes to be a Red Sox fan in the heart of Yank territory,” you mused, pushing the hat back up so you could see. “It’s fine.” 

Luke rolled his eyes, but he could hardly bite back his smile. 

“I am glad you came, though,” you said, glancing back at him. “I’m glad you came with me in the first place. This is gonna be the best semester.”

“Thanks for having me,” Luke said. “It’s… it’s been a while since I’ve left camp.” 

“Fingers crossed for no monster attacks, eh?” You held up your hand. “At least, not during the game. I could live with it happening any other time.” 

“Don’t speak it into existence,” your mom said. “We’re going to have a monster-free school year.” 

To humor her, you made a claw over your heart and pushed out. She hummed in satisfaction, and you looked over at Luke. “It’s gonna be fine.” 

“Yeah,” he said. “Because two kids like us aren’t gonna draw any attention.” 

“Oh, I know we will,” you said. “But I know it’ll be fine.” 

Luke frowned. “How can you be so sure?” 

You shrugged with a smile. “I’ve got you.”

And in that moment, he was thankful for the freakish heat that honestly made no sense in the spring—at least it covered up any sign of what your words did to him. 

Luke thought you were joking when you asked him if he wanted to come back home with you for the school year. He didn’t know why you wanted to go back in the first place, being a Big Three kid that apparently had a death wish, but the thought of him leaving camp was almost inconceivable. 

Even after you assured him you weren’t joking, he still wasn’t sure. He was on the run with you for three years, then… 

Well, he couldn’t think about it for too long. But Luke had been on the outskirts of regular society for so long, doing nothing but fighting for his life, that he didn’t know if he could actually function at a normal school.

But it felt right for you two to get some normal time together after you were separated for so long. It took him a semester to decide, but one day during your usual Iris message conversations, he told you he’d love to spend the rest of the year in Boston with you. Luke still remembered the grin you wore, your disbelieving but victorious cheers, the apology you yelled back at your mother for your noise. 

Luke watched you as you talked with your mom, discussing Boston’s chances and player statistics and baseball jargon he didn’t think he’d ever understand, and he knew he would sit through a thousand Red Sox games if it meant he would get to keep seeing your smile.

You must have felt his eyes on you, because you glanced over at him. “Are you okay?” 

Luke smiled. Gods, he was so glad you were here. 

“Never better.” 

-

“That one nearly got me,” Luke said. 

Percy huffed as he picked up his sword from the ground—he was pretty sure he would officially lose his mind if Luke disarmed him with that stupid move one more time. One benefit to the Hermes cabin being too scared to associate with him after getting claimed was that he wasn’t making a fool out of himself in front of other people. 

“Maybe I can only beat you when I pour water on myself,” he said. 

Luke chuckled as he took a bottle from the cooler on the side and held it up. “Wanna try?” 

He shook his head. “I think my arms will fall off if I keep going with you.” 

He tipped his shoulder. “Fair.” 

Percy stared at the ground as Luke gathered himself, trying to put the free range thoughts roaming around his head in order. It didn’t help that he’d gained a million questions after Poseidon claimed him, and it didn’t help that there’s been a newest addition to his dream last night. 

He still felt strange asking Luke about it, but he had to know more about her. Percy didn’t know why it felt like his mission to find out who this mysterious girl was, or why he felt that strange connection to her. Maybe it was the way Luke acted whenever he brought her up, maybe it was that she’d popped up in his dream next to him at the very end, maybe it was just plain old curiosity. 

“I’m not supposed to be alive,” Percy said, breaking the silence. “I could die at any time in a bunch of different horrible ways. So will you tell me more about that girl on your wall?”  

Again, Luke seemed to be caught off guard by it. Percy heard the crunch of plastic as his hand clenched ever so slightly around the bottle, and he tried to cover it up with an arched eyebrow. “Why do you want to know so badly?” 

He shrugged. What was he supposed to say? 

“I’m curious,” he decided. 

Luke huffed a dry laugh before he took a sip of water, and he stared off into the distance for a while. He did a lot of staring whenever this girl was brought up. They looked like they were best friends in those pictures, but maybe whatever they had ended badly. And if she was a demigod too…

Well, it would make sense why he didn’t want to talk about her. 

“You know that phrase about curiosity?” Luke asked. 

“And how it killed the cat?” 

He nodded, drinking some more. “It goes double for demigods.” 

“Everything else wants to kill me,” Percy said. “So curiosity’s gonna have to get in line.” 

Luke’s laugh was a little more genuine this time, and he shook his head. “I guess I can tell you a little about her. You actually probably have a right to know.” 

“Is she a half-blood?” Percy asked immediately. 

He nodded. “Yeah.” 

“Who’s her parent?” 

Luke capped his water bottle and looked at Percy for a good, long moment. His face glowed in the warm afternoon sun, his scar cast in a softer light than usual. The scar used to unnerve him, but he’d gotten used to it after weeks staring at it during sword fighting. 

“She was a child of Poseidon, Percy,” he said. “Just like you.” 

Percy felt short of breath, like Luke had just knocked his sword out of his hand and shoved him to the ground. But he stood on his own two legs that somehow still worked, and Luke hadn’t moved. 

He had a sister? 

“I have a sister?” 

“…Had,” Luke corrected. “She… she died a few years back.” 

A vice latched onto Percy’s heart. He was still having a hard time breathing. No wonder Luke always used past tense when he was talking about her. 

He had a sister, he wasn’t alone, but he was because she was dead. And if Luke was one of her friends, that meant she died young. 

Gods. 

“What about their oath?” Percy asked, trying to ignore the aching in his chest. “I’m already on thin ice for my whole existing thing. How did Poseidon get away with two kids so close to each other?” 

Luke shrugged. “I’ve never known why gods do things. Her mother was a great woman, though—I could see what drew Poseidon to her against the oath.” 

One half of Percy wanted to ask every question that kept popping into his head. The other side of him wanted to break down and cry. 

“How did you meet her?” 

“We ran into each other when we were both young,” he said. “Both child runaways, both demigods, both New Englanders—we decided to rough it out on the road together. Couldn’t be any worse than doing it on our own.”

Percy tried to imagine it. A young Luke and a younger version of that girl—maybe Percy’s age—living together in the wilderness and fighting monsters. Surviving off of nothing but their wit and skill, facing death each day before they’d even reached middle school. 

“It… it didn’t happen then, did it?” he asked hesitantly. 

Luke shook his head. “Couple years later. All we did was watch each other’s backs out there.” 

Percy couldn’t help himself. “What happened to her?”  

“The same thing that happens to everyone,” Luke said flatly. “There’s a reason I’m the oldest one here.” 

“That doesn’t make it better,” Percy insisted. “It— it makes it worse, Luke. You see that, right?”  

Luke stared at his empty water bottle then tossed it back into the cooler. When his gaze met Percy’s, he was shocked by how… tired he looked. Beyond exhausted—bone-weary. Percy wanted to say more, but he didn’t get the chance. 

“This isn’t good conversation,” Luke said, “and it’s getting late. You should hit the showers before dinner.” 

The sun still beat down on them, bright and angry in the sky, but Percy provided no argument. He had a lot to think about. 

Before they went their separate ways, Percy stopped and looked back at him. “I’m sorry she’s gone, Luke.” 

Luke’s gaze went unfocused for a moment, his eyes growing glossy. “So am I.” 

-

Percy sat on the floor of the Hermes cabin in the corner that used to be his, staring at his meager belongings. He had to decide what to take on his quest, which was made easier by the fact that he hardly had anything to his name. Things could always be worse, though. At least he would have a change of clothes. 

He should’ve been doing this in his own cabin, but it felt too empty, too suffocating in its silence. Eleven was still more familiar. He heard the door open and saw Luke walk in, and his eyes lit up when he saw Percy. 

“Hey,” he said. “I wanted to see you before you left. How’re you feeling pre-quest?” 

“Like the world’s about to end,” he said. 

Luke’s lips twitched into a smile as he sat on the bed across from Percy. “Understandable. It kinda is.” 

“It’s just overwhelming.” Percy shoved the unfolded clothes into his backpack. “I have to clear mine and my dad’s names and get Zeus’s bolt back, or else war will start. No pressure at all.” 

“You were chosen for a reason,” Luke said. “You may not see it, Percy, but you’ve improved a lot since you got here. If anyone can do this, I think it’s you.” 

Percy looked up at him, and he was reminded of the way their last conversation went. He was asking before he could really stop himself. 

“I could die on this quest and never see you again,” Percy said. “So could you tell me more about my sister before I go?”  

Luke smiled wistfully and sighed. “You really won’t let this go, will you?” 

“It’s not really something you just let go,” he said. “Besides, I… I saw her in my dream last night.” 

Luke’s smile faded. “You did?”  

Percy nodded. “For a split second, but I know it was her. I felt the same way I did whenever I looked at her pictures. And… it’s the second time she’s shown up.” 

He let out a long sigh and shook his head, his gaze trailing off to the wall. He always looked so much older when he talked about this girl, like he was a war veteran reminiscing on his lost love. And from what he’d gathered, it might not have been too far off. 

“I told you we ran together when we were young,” he said, and Percy nodded. “We were both nine, and it should’ve been terrible, but she had a way of making everything better. Always found the bright side of things, was always able to make me laugh.” 

“She was from Massachusetts—right in the middle of Boston.” Luke chuckled as he looked at Percy. “Huge Red Sox fan.” 

Percy grimaced. “We all make mistakes.” 

Luke smiled, though it faded a bit. “We got separated for a while, but we found each other again when I got to camp. Things were more peaceful than they are now, so she’d been claimed at camp pretty quickly. I figure Poseidon wanted her to have the protection of him openly standing behind her after what happened.” 

He frowned. “What do you mean, ‘what happened’?” 

Luke shook his head. “That would be an awful story to send you off on.” 

Percy wanted to protest, but he didn’t. Luke was probably right—Percy didn’t want to make him relive it and then have to go on a death quest right after.

“A happier part, then,” he suggested.

“She ran away from home as a kid to protect her mom, but now that she had an idea of what she was doing, she started going back to school. She invited me to stay with her during the school year one year, and I accepted. That—” Luke’s throat bobbed, and the other hand clenched into a fist— “that was when she died.” 

In his stunned silence, Luke got up and went over to his alcove. He pulled the drawer open on his bedside table and pulled out a neatly folded piece of paper. It must’ve been folded and crumpled a million other times in messier ways by all the creases he could see, but when Luke opened it, he could see handwriting all over the front. 

A letter. 

“We Iris messaged each other constantly while she was at school,” he said, “and we wrote back and forth when we couldn’t. This was the last letter she sent me.” 

Percy’s first instinct was to say he wouldn’t be able to read it, but he realized that he didn’t really care. These were words that his sister wrote—he would sit here the rest of the day forcing sentences to make sense if that was what it took. 

So he took the letter when Luke offered it. 

To the one and only Luke Castellan, 

My mom said yes! After a very long interrogation (she now knows basically everything about you) and a million promises that you would be as careful as possible and that you were good enough at sword fighting to take down anything that could come after us, she said you can spend the year here. We spent a couple hours every day making my mom’s study into a guest room, so you have a place to stay.

I’m an idiot that didn’t bring enough drachmas so that’s why I have to send this letter—hopefully it gets to you soon enough, because we’re gonna come get you a week before my winter break is over. Mom is letting me drive down because she says I have to get my permit soon. It makes sense that my first big test is getting to you. If we don’t make it, it’s because we died in a fiery crash. 

Just kidding. I’m a great driver. But tell me some of your favorite songs when you reply and I’ll burn a CD for the ride—I figured out how to use LimeWire. Oh, and throw in a couple drachmas with the envelope so I can Iris message you next time. I miss your face and your voice, and my hand is cramping up writing all of this. 

But this is so exciting! I can’t wait to introduce you to all my friends at school, and show you my favorite places in the city, and make you into a Red Sox fan. And you can come to my soccer games— I’m the greatest forward there is. 

Jokes aside, I’m going to make sure you have the best time. We’ll spend every second together, Luke. We’re gonna make up for the time we lost. 

I can’t wait to see you again.

Your hurricane.  

It took Percy a long time to get through it with the words swimming all over, and it didn’t help that his vision had grown blurry. 

Tears, he realized as he blinked, and he did it again to make sure they wouldn’t fall. He couldn’t cry in front of Luke, not over a girl he didn’t even know—even if she was his sister. But maybe he was grieving that—the fact that he would never get to know her. 

“God, man. I— I’m sorry.” Percy couldn’t think of anything else to say. “She sounds like she was great.” 

Luke couldn’t even manage a smile this time as he stared at the wall. Percy was surprised he could even talk to him about it. 

“She was,” he murmured. “You would’ve liked her. And gods,” this time, a bit of a smile broke through despite it all, “she would have loved a little brother.” 

“I’m gonna make her proud on this quest,” Percy vowed. “I’m gonna clear our dad’s name for her.”

Something in Luke’s gaze had changed—sadness, almost regret. “You’re a good kid, Percy. I hope your quest doesn’t change that.” 

I hope I come back alive, he wanted to say. But given the topic matter, he didn’t. Percy carefully folded the letter back up and handed it to Luke. 

“Thank you for telling me about her, man,” Percy said. “I… I know it can’t be easy.”

Luke let out a shuddering breath as he stared at the closed letter—Percy wondered how many times he must have sat in this same position, reading her words. “No better way to honor her memory than helping her brother.” He glanced at Percy. “I see a lot of her in you.” 

He’d been wondering if he had anything in common with her. Percy felt a sudden flare of anger shoot through him—it wasn’t fair that she was dead. Poseidon was a god, and she was a teenager. He should have saved her. 

Percy’s mouth was drier than a desert. A part of him wanted to curl up in a ball and sob over the sister he never got the chance to know, but the other part of him knew—from what little Luke had told him about her—that she wouldn’t want him to. 

“I should get going,” Percy said, standing up from the floor. “We have to leave for the quest soon, and Annabeth and Grover are probably wondering where I am, and…” 

Percy trailed off, and Luke nodded in understanding. He turned around and took one of the photos off the wall—one of you alone in the middle of a park, wearing a bucket hat and absolutely beaming. 

“You deserve to have a part of her with you,” he said. “For good luck.” 

He felt himself choking up, and he pushed it down as he accepted the photo. “Thanks, man. It means a lot.”

“Good luck, Percy,” Luke said. “You’ve got a lot of people rooting for you.”

Percy found himself studying the picture of you once he made it outside, trying to memorize your face. With your wide, infectious smile that emanated pure sunlight, he could have mistaken you for an Apollo kid. But when he looked at you, he got that same warmth that he felt every time he imagined his father. 

“I won’t let you down,” he murmured. “I promise.” 

-

After sleeping in his train seat for half the day, Percy vowed to never complain about his bed in Cabin Three again. He was gonna be going down to the Underworld with permanent cricks in his neck. 

Grover was still sound asleep—Percy envied him for how easily it came to him in the worst conditions—but thankfully, Annabeth wasn’t. Her gaze was focused on the view as their train chugged along. 

Percy cleared his throat in a flawless attempt at getting her attention, and it worked. 

“You’re awake,” she said. 

“Unfortunately.” Percy sighed. “How much longer do you think it’ll be?” 

“Another day, at least,” she said. “And we’ve got a layover in St. Louis.” 

“St. Louis,” he hummed. “Nice.” 

They sat in silence for a while—there wasn’t much to talk about when they were coming off of two— or was it three, now?—near-death experiences. But eventually, Annabeth cleared her throat, taking a page from his book, and it worked again. 

“There— there’s probably something you should know,” Annabeth said, and that worked even better than clearing her throat. “You’re not the only Big Three kid to come through Camp Half-blood lately.” 

“I know,” he said. “Grover and Luke explained it.” 

Her eyes widened slightly and she leaned forward in her seat. “Luke did?” 

“…Yeah. You all already told me about Thalia.” Percy glanced away, suddenly feeling a chill in the train car. “Luke told me about my sister.” 

Annabeth went silent. 

“It’s okay,” he said. “I kind of annoyed Luke until he told me. Doesn’t really seem like a subject people at camp like to talk about.” 

“I’m just surprised he did,” she murmured. “They were… they were close, Percy. Her death destroyed him—Thalia and your sister. All of it’s complicated.”  

“Yeah,” he sighed, “I got some of that.” 

“I only knew her for a year at camp, but everyone loved her,” she said. “She was nice. Popular. Always helped when she could, always had the biggest, most infectious smile on her face.” Annabeth looked down at her hands. “She didn’t deserve the fate she got.” 

Percy didn’t think he’d ever grieved so much for someone he never knew. “But her and Luke—were they…?” 

“Yeah,” Annabeth said, “they were a thing, later on.” 

That seemed to be all she wanted to say on the matter. Percy decided not to push. 

“How did you meet her?” he asked. 

Annabeth’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I met her on the day I thought I would die.”

-

For the first time in her life, Annabeth Chase couldn’t think. 

It had all happened so fast. One second she was running with Luke and Thalia and Grover, praying to her mother and any other gods that would listen to make the horde of monsters let up even a centimeter.

The next, she’d collapsed on the ground, never so grateful to have grass and dirt and dust in her face. But she could hear Luke yelling, barely able to make it out in her delirious state—she didn’t know when she’d last had a sip of water, and they’d been running for at least three miles—but he sounded hysterical. 

She remembered her last clear thought: they weren’t going to make it. 

But they had. They had, so why was Luke losing his mind? 

Annabeth pulled herself up from the ground—how long had she been bleeding out of those slashes on her arm?—and looked for the rest of her friends. Luke wasn’t yelling anymore, instead arguing with someone she didn’t recognize in a bright orange shirt. Grover’s furry legs trembled as he stared down the hill they’d just gotten up, completely silent, and Thalia— 

Where was Thalia? 

Annabeth tried to get up but her legs gave out almost immediately, and steady arms caught her before she could fall to the ground again. Kind eyes served to ease some of her panic—she was older than Annabeth, maybe around Luke or Thalia’s age. 

Thalia— 

“Hey, you’re okay,” the voice said, and Annabeth’s attention was drawn back to you. “I’ve got you.” 

“Where’s Thalia?” she blurted out, because now she couldn’t think of anything else. 

Your brows creased and you glanced back down the hill—Annabeth did too, and she saw Grover and Luke arguing with each other. Or rather, Luke was yelling at him as Grover anxiously hooked his hands through his hair. 

“I don’t know,” you said, “but right now, I need to make sure you’re okay. Are you hurt?” 

Annabeth absentmindedly held up her arm, but she was only focused on her friends. Why wasn’t Thalia with them? Why was Luke so upset?

You cursed under your breath in Ancient Greek as you cradled her arm, and you looked back down the hill. Annabeth could see at least half a dozen other kids. 

“We’ve got two half-bloods and a satyr, one injured!” you yelled back. “Get Molly and Brayden!” 

“Three,” Annabeth found herself saying. “There’s three half-bloods—” 

“Annabeth!” 

Her head shot up at the sound of Luke calling her name as he bounded over, and her eyes widened at the blood steadily spidering across the fabric of his shirt. 

“Luke, you’re hurt—” 

“I’m fine,” he insisted. “It’s fine.” 

“We have Apollo kids coming,” you said, looking up at him, still cradling Annabeth’s arm. “We’ll get y—” 

Your sentence stuck in your throat, and Annabeth could see tears welling in your eyes as your brows furrowed. She thought Luke’s eyes might burst out of his skull as he stared at you, his lips parted but nothing coming out. Neither of you were able to form words. 

When he finally did get something out, it was a single name. One Annabeth knew by heart, one that he’d mourned for years. 

“Luke?” you whispered. 

Before he had the chance to do anything, two teenagers got over the hill and called out your name, the same one Luke used. He always said you were dead, but you clearly weren’t dead, because you were here and you had her arm in your grasp and while your hands were cold, they weren’t cold enough to be dead— 

“Molly’s gonna take care of you,” you said, looking back at Annabeth and cutting off her inner dialogue. “She’ll get you to the infirmary and heal you up, okay?” 

“My friends—” 

“They’re gonna be okay too,” you said. “I promise.” 

Annabeth looked up at Luke, and he nodded. “We’ll be with you soon, Annabeth. We— we have to talk about some things.” 

So she went with Molly down the hill, and Annabeth put pressure on her bleeding wound when she told her to—it had started to sting like hell now that her adrenaline was fading. 

She looked back just in time to see you and Luke share the tightest hug ever. 

The hug of two people who realized they weren’t seeing ghosts, Annabeth thought. 

-

You bolted up in bed, eyes wide and your chest heaving as you rapidly sucked in air. Your fingers found purchase in your bedsheets, desperate for something familiar—it took a second for you to recognize your surroundings, that you weren’t in an endless void, but your childhood bedroom offered little comfort.  

You ran a hand over your forehead, damp with sweat, as you tried to calm down. Your breathing slowed, but you couldn’t shake that awful feeling that hung over you in your sleep. 

Your nightmares were getting worse, you knew that much. That raspy, demented voice used to be a rarity, and now it appeared every night. You could usually deal with your nightmares, but the sense of absolute dread that voice and the pit fostered in you was too much. You hadn’t managed to sleep through the night once since you came home for the school year.

You could deal with the monsters—to you, this was the worst part of your godly blood.

A knock rattled on the door out of nowhere, and you nearly jumped out of your skin. The only thing that calmed you down was the thought that monsters didn’t knock. 

“Come in,” you croaked, your throat drier than a desert. 

Thankfully, a monster hadn’t come to make your night even more miserable. Luke stood in the doorway, his eyebrows creased in concern, messy curls hanging just above his eyes. He wore the Red Sox t-shirt you’d bought for him at the game you dragged him to, and in your addled state, you didn’t even think to tease him about it. 

“Are you okay?” He should’ve been as disoriented as you, but his alerted eyes told a different story. 

You could only think of one thing. “How did you know?” 

Luke’s lips parted for a moment, as if he hadn’t even considered it. “I could just feel it.”

You managed a smile despite every atom in your body screaming at you. “I think that means you can come in.” 

He closed the door behind him, and you shifted over in your bed to make room for him. There wasn’t much in a twin, but you made it work. Luke’s weight pressed into the mattress, making you adjust your position, and it was more comforting than any amount of blankets. 

“You’re so cold,” he murmured, laying the back of his hand against your arm. “How do you live like that?” 

“Blame my dad,” you said. “I’ve got water in my blood.” 

“I think that’s probably a bad thing,” Luke said, and you knocked your shoulder into his with a huff. 

“You know what I mean.” 

Luke let his hand fall back in his lap, and as you brought your knees up to your chest, you pulled the covers with them. 

“So,” Luke said, glancing at you, “what’s got you awake at the witching hour?” 

“The usual,” you mumbled. 

“Nightmares that might be prophetic?” he asked. 

You made a lazy gesture with your hand. “Bingo.” 

“The worst sense of dread imaginable?” 

“Bullseye.” 

“I’m sorry,” he said. 

You shrugged. “It’s nothing I can’t deal with.” 

“You don’t always have to put on a front, y’know,” Luke said. You felt his eyes on you. “You don’t always have to be strong.” 

“I’m naturally strong,” you said with mock austerity. “Comes with the god for a dad.” 

Luke chuckled and shook his head. “You know what I mean.” 

“Yeah,” you murmured. 

You leaned into his side, fitting your head into the crook of his neck. Luke wrapped his arm around you, pulling you closer, and you let out a contented sigh. 

That voice in your nightmares seemed so small when you had Luke. 

“Can you stay?” you asked softly. 

He didn’t hesitate. “Of course.” 

“Just like old times,” you whispered. 

“Just like old times,” he agreed. 

Luke ran hot, and you’d never been more thankful for it as you fully settled into his side. Icy blood ran through your veins, and you let out a shaky sigh. You could hear his steady breathing, feel his heartbeat through his chest, and the anxiety from earlier began to steadily fade. You never felt safer than when you were with Luke. 

There was something between you—you weren’t that stupid—but you hadn’t talked about it. With you and Luke, it was just… you and Luke. You didn’t have to put a label to it. 

How could you put a label to your relationship, when you’d spent your first few years together fighting for each day, and then the next few thinking the other was dead? 

Maybe someday, you would talk about it. But for now, this was more than enough. 

“Don’t worry,” Luke murmured in your ear as your eyes began to droop. “I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.” 

And by the gods, you believed him. 

[heartsforseo]

Straw hats with a member/ S/o who still sleeps with plushies.

A/n: so I’ve been gone for almost 2 months but shhh I got some motivation now😼😼. PLUS I got this inspo from reading something somewhere. SO TY FOR GIVING ME THE THINGY TO WRITE AGAIN. request=open requested: <yes> <no> wc:970 ft: the straw hats (excluding chopper) warning: ??

⭑Luffy honestly wouldn’t care. If he ever crashes into your room (girls' room) and sleeps on your bed, he’d even shove the stuff toys away.

⭑When he sees your pouting/sad face he’d be clueless and continue whining for you to hop on the bed with him.

⭑When you finally told him why you were mad, he just tilted his head and let out a LONG sigh

⭑Would use his gum-gum abilities and get all your stuffy back in the bed (while groaning. He does NOT want to share)

⭑Speaking of sharing, why coddle a plushie when you have Luffy? Would def get jealous and maybe even tear one of them.

⭑P.s. He did…

⭑Zoro, just like Luffy, couldn’t be bothered. He’d probably think of it as a design at first. I mean, a pirate sleeping with plushies??? That’s rare

⭑But as the creator said, everyone in the crew is a weird person. So, here you are—in your room. Shock and in awe.

⭑Believe it or not, Zoro was sleeping with one of your plushies (that looked like a reindeer…)

⭑He had always denied sleeping next/with them. (Only if you convinced him enough, he’d let out a groan but still follow)

⭑You’d have to tease him about it now. I mean, Zoro sleeping before you??? Shocking with that 3 hrs sleep schedule.

⭑And a certain chef might’ve heard what you’ve said and used it against a certain swordsman…

⭑Nami, would even tax the poor plushies:~((

⭑Jokes aside, she’ll think of it as cute and nice decorations. They’re cuddly, colorful, and good for distress.

⭑But sometimes there’s a limit. She couldn’t even sleep on her OWN bed cuz of how many you got.

⭑Would roll her eyes when she saw you pout and give you a 35% discount.

⭑To help you get “rid” (as she says) of plushies, she’ll take a mini tangerine and place it on her work desk.

⭑Now she talks to it after dinner, drawing the map of the world.

⭑Ussop I’d say would make a story about how he once traveled to a stuffed toy island.

⭑Everything there was colorful, soft, and cuddly! He’d even point at one of your plushies and say he met them on the island!

⭑Your plushie would just stare and stare and stare… Until Ussop had to let out a fake cough and do his other stuff.

⭑He’d ask for your permission to get one of your plushies for support. (You said yes ofc).

⭑Now, whenever he has to modify Nami’s weapon/ whenever he’s alone from the group—he’ll hold the small plushie tightly and hug it, waiting for ideas to pop up.

⭑Sanji the beigest of them all. I could see Sanji:

⭑1) getting jealous about it. You have a whole husband in front of you. And you’re picking the plushie to cuddle…THAN HIM?!

⭑Would give the plushie dirty stares (especially if it was given by someone not him/by his crew)

⭑When you’re doing something else, he’d wrap his arms around your waist and rest his head on your neck.

⭑He’d give the plushie a smirk and laugh a bit. (Nurse gising na po sya)

⭑OR

⭑2) Sanji would write that down in his “All about Y/n!” Notebook and put hearts all over it.

⭑He would give you plushies, and on every island you visit, he insists on getting you at least one stuffed animal.

⭑Would even sculpt one of his foods as your plushie.

⭑Plus he’d get all giddy iddy when he sees you coddling the plushie he bought. It’s really satisfying to see when the person you love appreciates what they give you.

⭑Robin would let out a smile and maybe even tease you (when she's feeling it)

⭑Might get jealous when you're spending more of your time with them. She's your crew member and s/o, you should focus on her!

⭑She once woke up with your back in front of her, and you were cuddling your plushie.

⭑Sad to say you couldn't find your stuffies for a week… :(

⭑But Robin was there for you!

⭑In the end, it was a win-win situation!

⭑FRANKY FOUND IT CUTE CUTE CUTE.

⭑While you were worrying about how he'll react (unknowingly to you, he already found out and named one of them cola jr.) Franky already made a small plushie (robot) that does the SUPEERRRRRRR with him.

⭑When he saw you sad that one of your plushies got teared up, he'd secretly take it and repatch it (w/h metal scraps)

⭑Would sweat when you confronted him about it, and even DENY IT.

⭑"Franky you're the only one I know that'd use metal scraps for repair…"

⭑"Oh."

⭑Brook is a cutie patootie.

⭑He already knows what you like, from the panties you wear to the plushies you like!

⭑Would make one of those and have some delightful little tea parties. If you're too occupied to join in, why not let your mini-version take part instead?

⭑Anyways, if you'd ever show him a soul king merch/plushie. HE'D FLY OVER THE MOONN.

⭑He didn't know they were selling those! Especially when the cane he has can be removed and shown as a knife.

⭑Our good boy Jinbe.

⭑While on his trip, he saw a lot of them. But of course wouldn't bother to buy one.

⭑I mean, you're on a business trip for sake. And a pirate should always be ready and need no time for aesthetics.

⭑Well, that's what he thought BEFORE he met you. When he saw your room he was SHOOK

⭑How did you have time for all of this? How were you gonna sleep? How will you keep them clean?

⭑Many thoughts were roaming in his head. But when he saw your adoring smile, he made up his mind and would do anything to make you happy.

⭑Even keeping your plushies clean.

A/n: I hope you all enjoyed it. nd sorry for the almost 2-month break.

[triplefrontierbabe]

Saying ‘I love you’ for the first time

summary: you say ‘I love you’ for the first time

pairing: f! reader x Max Verstappen, Oscar Piastri, David Malukas and Alexander Rossi

warnings: none, just love

words: 1.3k

a/n: this is the second part of @bernelflo request! I went a different route aside from texts for this one. I might’ve gotten carried away writing some… hope you enjoy!🫶

Max Verstappen

You and Max have been friends for quite some time now. He’s been your best friend for as long as you can honestly remember. You’ve seen him grow up in the world of motorsports. And despite your different lives, you did your absolute best to support him in whichever way you could.

It was after Max won Zandvoort in 2023 when he finally made his move to ask you out. The question simple and your answer of yes, a no brainer. That night was filled with celebrations both of his win and your newfound relationship.

There was no doubt that after half the season that Max’s chances of becoming a two time world champion were very high.

Abu Dhabi came around faster than the cars itself. The season full of highs nearing a close. It was bittersweet but you were ready to have Max to yourself.

In the blink of an eye, Max won. You were so ecstatic. Jumping around the garage hugging anybody who walked your way. Once Max’s car pulled to a stop and he jumped out, he was immediately ambushed by everyone at Oracle Red Bull Racing. He swiftly made his way through the dense crowd to find you; full of happy tears.

“You did it Max!” You exclaimed hugging him as tight as can be. He was still in shock as he looked at your face, studying it in a way almost to figure out which emotion he should feel first.

You pulled away from him, his hands still wrapped around your waist.

“I love you.” You said tenderly. “I really love you.”

Shocked, again was Max’s expression.

You both had said ‘I love you’ before but in the sense of friendship. But this time, this ‘I love you’ was different. It was the only way you could say those words to another from now on. And it meant the absolute world.

Oscar Piastri

Hungary 2024 was going to hell in a hand basket or so it seemed for the McLaren Team. Oscar finally got his maiden win under not so optimal circumstances. Tensions were high between him, Lando and all other members of the team.

He won, plain and simple. But Oscar couldn’t seem to really enjoy the win.

After the podium celebration, you finally got to really see Oscar.

You hugged him tightly as his arms wrapped around you. He said nothing but his mind was saying everything.

“I’m proud of you,” you began “you know that, right?”

He exhaled and took a step back.

“Yeah.” He said in the most defeated tone you had ever heard.

“You got your first win, Osc. I am so proud of you. You fought hard out there, and you won.” You said looking at him trying to meet his gaze while he looked everywhere else but you.

“Hey.” You said grabbing his face with your hand and turning it towards you.

He finally looked at you, his sad eyes breaking your heart just a little bit.

“I love you.”

His eyes widened just a little bit. Since you had only been dating for a handful of months, the “opportune” moment to say those words hadn’t presented itself yet. Not until today.

Oscar’s determination had always been evident, but his humility often went unseen by others but not you.

“I do love you. More than words can describe.” You said as you tucked a piece of his hair behind his ear.

“Really?” He said in an exasperated tone, as if he didn’t believe you. “Even after all this?”

“Even more so, especially after this.”

David Malukas

Ever since you and David started dating, you had weekly movie nights every Friday evening. David would cook dinner or, more often than not, order something out.

The two of you rotated weeks on choosing the movie of the night. It was never an issue given the fact that your favorite movie genres were practically identical.

However, after the eventful day you had at school today, all you wanted to do was watch your favorite movie that you’ve seen at least a handful of times already with David. Disney’s live action Cinderella was all you could think of.

Princess movies was the one genre that David wasn’t too enthused about, he’d much rather watch an action movie or thriller over a fairytale. But, due to your short worded texts throughout the day and the tired sound of your voice over the phone, he knew that his movie choice of the week would be in favor of you.

The moment you arrived at David’s place, you were on the verge of tears. You were tired and exhausted from the amount of tests you had taken that day due to midterms. As soon as David opened his door, tears started falling down your face.

“Woah, babe, what’s wrong?” He said ushering you quickly inside. No words fell from your mouth, just silent sobs. His hand came up to cradle the back of your head as he held you in a tight embrace.

After a moment, you escaped his grasp and flopped down onto the couch face first. He sat down beside you rubbing your back soothingly.

“We don’t have to talk about it right now if you don’t want. We can just go ahead and play Cinderella.” He said as he reached for the tv remote.

Your head whipped up from the couch cushions and towards him then towards the tv where he already had the movie cued up to play.

“Oh I love you.” You said before bursting into tears again.

David maneuvered you into a cuddling position before pressing play on the movie.

“I love you too.” He said.

To be loved is to be known.

Alexander Rossi

“Alex I’m heading to the store, do you need anything?” You yelled from downstairs.

You were cooking dinner tonight for the two of you and needed to grab a few things from the grocery store before cooking.

You walked up the stairs and into his office where he was preparing to record a podcast episode with James.

“Um, let me think.” Alex said leaning back in his chair wracking his brain to see if he needed anything.

“Oh, could you get some fruit so I can make a fruit salad?” He asked looking up at you.

“Yeah, I already got that on the list.” You said, smiling while holding up the shopping list and pointing to the fruit you wrote down.

“You’re the best, thank you.” He said to you, hugging your waist.

You stood there for a moment and ran your hand through his hair. It was intimate moments like these that made your heart swell. With a few months of being together under your belts, domestic tasks such as making dinner together or just being in each other’s presence came to you both like second nature.

“What are you guys talking about today?” You asked motioning towards Alex's computer.

“Honestly, I have no clue aside from last week’s race.” Alex said laughing. “Whatever Hinch and Thim throw at me I guess?”

You nodded, basking in the stillness of the moment.

“Well, I’m gonna head out now.” You said while bending down to give Alex a kiss.

“Okay, I’ll see you later. I should be done by the time you get back.”

“Sounds good.” You said stepping away from him and making your way to the door. “See ya later, I love you.”

By the time your words registered in Alex’s mind, you were already down stairs and heading out the door. You hadn’t even realized what you had said. It came out so naturally from you, there wasn’t a need to have a second thought about it.

And, unbeknownst to you, James joined the video call just in time to hear it and see Alex’s shocked face.

That night, Alex made sure to return the words, as they were genuine.

Check out my Masterlist

[slut4thebroken]

That Night.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Jason Todd x Wayne!reader

Summary | Jason missed yet another date, but this time it was your breaking point.

Warnings | angsttt, emotional neglect?, break ups, Jay is just a lil stupid but we love him, fluff, comfort, Dick is the older brother I wish I had smh

Words | 3k

Notes | Not saying I wrote this because of a personal thing I’ve been going through with a friend… but I wrote this because of a personal thing I’ve been going through with a friend.

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

You sighed and dropped your purse onto the couch, then flopped down beside it. This was the third date night he’s missed in a row. What makes it infinitely worse is that this was your anniversary dinner. 

A year. An entire year you’ve been understanding, supportive… but all that’s done is make him realize that you’ll tolerate that behavior. So it got worse and worse. It started with showing up late to things, or having to cancel but getting you flowers and promising to make it up to you. Now though, half the time he doesn’t even remember that he forgot. 

With a heavy breath, you bent down to unclasp your heels and toss them to the side. You felt stupid. The original plan was to meet there, rather than both of you leaving together, since he needed to do something beforehand. That should’ve been your first warning. But you still had faith he'd show up. In fact, you had faith for about 45 minutes before paying for your wine and leaving, getting looks of pity from staff and customers alike on your way out. 

He also hasn’t planned anything for the past couple of months. It was always you. Honestly, part of you thought he’d forget he even had a girlfriend if it weren’t for you trying to plan dates or dinners or just spending time together. But on the off chance that he could actually show up, he usually had to leave early. 

You’ve been trying so hard to make this work, but you’re getting tired. You missed the boyfriend you had a year ago— the one who made you a priority, who took you on a date at least once a week. And you know that if it were earlier in the relationship, you would’ve left by now. But you love him more than anything so you tried to fight and make it work. But it was only you trying, so it was doomed from the start. 

Breaking up on our anniversary would be pretty poetic, you reasoned, trying to make the terrifying thought a little less scary. You got up to get another glass of wine, then sat back down on the couch, thinking. 

You weren’t sure how much time had passed before the front door was opening and closing quietly, but your glass was long empty by now and if you weren’t so anxious, you would’ve fallen asleep. 

“What are you still doing up?” He asked, looking at you in surprise since you’re usually in bed when he gets home.  

“I need to talk to you.” You said quietly, clearing your throat and adjusting your position on the couch. 

“Okay… That sounds awfully ominous.” He chuckled nervously, taking a seat next to you. “Why are you so dressed up?” Any doubts you might’ve had instantly disappeared because of that one innocent question. You swallowed thickly and looked at your lap, trying to wait until after you at least said it to start crying. 

“I can’t do this anymore.” You did your best to speak clearly, even as your voice started trembling. 

“What?” You’ve never heard him sound so caught off guard. 

“I- I’m breaking up with you.” You forced out, taking a deep breath. But the worst of it wasn't done yet. 

“Baby,” He reached for your hands but you gently pulled them away.  

“Please don’t make this harder for me, Jason.” Not Jay. Just Jason. 

“I don’t understand.” He said quietly, hands going back to his own lap. “Can you please look at me?” You bit your lip and took a deep breath, trying to prepare yourself to see his face so that you wouldn’t change your mind. When you looked up, his brows were furrowed as he examined you. 

“Can you at least tell me why?” A tear escaped your waterline when you heard the way his voice quavered. 

“Seriously?” You scoffed in disbelief. “Why do you think?”  

“I don’t know! I-“ He cut himself off when his gaze focused on your dress and then on your heels near your feet. “Fuck- oh fuck. Baby, I- I’m so sorry.” 

“Don’t be. It’s just repetition compulsion.” You offered a rueful shrug. “Dating a vigilante with no time for a personal life was my own fault, I should’ve realized it would’ve been the same as being Batman’s daughter.” 

“No- no, princess, please. Just- let me make it up to you. Please.”

“Jay, please don’t.” You whispered. 

“Baby, c’mon, please let me try.” 

“Do you even remember why we were going on a date tonight?” You snapped, eyes filling with more and more tears the longer he remained silent. “It was our anniversary.” You said quietly, brushing away the tears falling down your cheeks. “I’ve put up with this for almost a year because I loved you and I wanted this to work so badly, but I can’t do it anymore.” You all but whimpered, averting your gaze. 

“Loved?” He said through a breath, making you sigh. “You don’t love me anymore?” 

“I— I don’t know…” You do still love him. But admitting that would make it harder to walk away. 

“Oh.” You chanced a glance at him and watched the way he rapidly wiped the tears from his cheeks, trying to keep his composure. “And there’s nothing I can do to fix this?” He croaked, not able to look at you.

“You’re not going to give up the mask anytime soon, so no, Jason.” You said quietly. 

He was the one who left that night, saying he was going to stay at Roy’s to give you space. He didn’t come home the next day either though. You spent the entirety of that time either crying or sleeping. The amount of messages on your phone— that made your heart break just a little bit more every time you realized it wasn’t from Jason— was getting overwhelming so you turned it off, just wanting to be sad in peace. But that peace was interrupted on the second day after that night. 

You groaned at the knock on your door and continued laying on the couch, hoping they’d leave. But they knocked again, more urgently this time. Letting out a heavy sigh you forced yourself to get up and open the door. 

Dick’s expression went from irritation to confusion to complete pity in a matter of seconds. 

“Can I come in?” He asked and you just shrugged in response, then walked back to the couch, letting him close the door. “I was going to ask if something happened with Jason but based on your general appearance and the state of your apartment, I’m guessing the answer is yes.” 

“What do you want, Grayson?” You sighed, watching him sit down next to you. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked softly. 

“We broke up. Is that what you want to hear?” You snapped, looking away from him as you bit the inside of your cheek. 

“That makes sense actually. Are you okay?” 

“What do you mean that makes sense?” You asked, looking back at him with furrowed brows. 

“…Red Hood,” He almost seemed hesitant to say his name, “has been significantly more… violent, the past two days. Bruce and I thought something might’ve happened. We didn’t think it’d be this though.” You scoffed and rolled your eyes. 

“Of course he is.” You spat bitterly. It always used to hurt knowing how much harder he fights for his reputation and the people for Gotham, than for you. You felt like the other woman most of the time. “Will you let my dad know I’m probably going to stay at the manor for a couple weeks until I can get a new apartment?” At least he wouldn’t ask as many questions as Dick. You weren’t looking forward to Alfred’s unwanted, but very accurate, input and guidance on the situation though. 

“Sure… So it’s really done then?” He asked tentatively, testing the waters. 

“I’ve put up with this kind of behavior enough from my dad. But at least he never forgot any important dates. So yes, it’s really done.” He was silent for a moment, probably trying to piece together what date Jason forgot. 

“Anniversary?” 

“A year.” You confirmed, almost apathetically. 

“Jesus.” 

“Yep. I’m the one who planned the dinner and made the reservation, which he forgot about. He also didn’t get a gift, like we both decided we’d do.” 

“I’m sorry, kid.” He frowned, placing a hand on your shoulder. 

“It’s fine. It’s been like this for a while. That night was just the final straw for me.” You shrugged, trying not to give into your emotions. His hand remained on your shoulder and you bit your lip as it started trembling. 

Why does this have to hurt so fucking bad? Maybe you should just get back together because at least that pain was better than this. This pain made you want to cut your heart out of your chest to get a break from the constant ache you were feeling. 

You let out a choked sob and Dick pulled you into him, letting you bury your face in his chest as you cried. You clutched onto his shirt and tried to calm yourself down, to focus on his warmth and the way he was lightly rubbing your back. But it all reminded you of Jason. The way that he used to hold you when he was actually home for longer than ten hours a day. 

“Is it me?” You whimpered, trying to take a deep breath, but having it waver as you let out another sob. 

“What?” 

“Am I— am I just not as important as the rest of Gotham?” You choked out, making him pull back to look at you. 

“Hey, don’t say that. Bruce never really got the hang of the family-vigilante balance. Even right now with Tim he’s still struggling. And as for Jason…” He reached up to lightly brush the tears from your face as he frowned. “It’s a learned behavior. Trust me, I only unlearned it after Kory threatened to fly me into space because of it.” You let out a quiet chuckle, the feeling of humor feeling weird mixed with the heartbreak you’ve become accustomed to. “And even then, I still struggle with it. My point is, he loves you so much. I’m sure if you threaten to fly him into space he’d try to fix it.” 

“I don’t know… I’ve been trying so hard for months, Dick, and I’m so tired… I just can’t.” 

“You’re not the one who needs to try.” Right. You didn’t think about that. Would it really be worth it though? Old habits die hard after all. “Look, you don’t have to take my advice, but I’d give him another chance. The second he starts slipping back into his old ways though, it’s done. But at least let him try to fix it. You might be surprised.” You let out a heavy sigh and looked down, playing with a loose thread on the sleeve of your hoodie. 

“You’re probably right. I’m just scared, Dick.” You said quietly. 

“I’ll make you a deal. If I’m wrong and he fucks it up again, I’ll take your place at any charity galas or events Bruce hosts for a year.”  

“A year?” You asked, eyebrows raised in surprise. 

“A year.” He nodded. 

“You know that’s like at least five right?” You smiled. 

“That’s how confident I am.” 

“Fine. But only because I want to get out of all those events.” You both knew that you were hoping for the opposite outcome though. You wanted him to try— to be better. You wanted to be important enough for him to want to change. 

Pls come home when you can.

Causal enough. But your heart was fucking racing. 

You cleaned up around the apartment, then took a shower and changed into some clean clothes before texting him. Part of you was absolutely terrified. What if he doesn’t even want to try? What if you make a fool out of yourself? The only pro would be getting out of going to events for a whole year, which was enough for you to just send the text anyway. 

You were sitting on the couch when the front door quietly opened, the scene feeling eerily similar to that night. The door closed softly and his footsteps were even softer. He stood in the living room, hands in his pants pockets, and you studied him, frowning at the darkness of his under eyes. 

“Do you want to sit?” You asked, when he just stood there. He nodded and tentatively moved to sit on the couch as far away from you as possible. 

“I’m not sure where this is going so I don’t exactly know what I should say…” He admitted sheepishly. 

“I don’t want to stay broken up.” 

“You don’t?” He asked with wide eyes. 

“No. But if we get back together, things need to change. I’ve felt second to Gotham my entire life, I don’t need that in a relationship too. I’m not asking you to give it up completely, but I’m tired of being the second priority.” 

“I’ll give it up.” He said suddenly. “If you want me to, I will… I just need you. Without you, I need the mask and I don’t want to be that way. I like who I am with you— you make me better.” 

“You don’t need to do that, Jay.” You said softly, trying not to let the butterflies in your stomach consume you. 

“Maybe not, but I would.” He moved closed, then hesitantly reached for your hands, waiting for you to pull them back again, but you never did. “With you, I’m not the angry little kid using this to escape my emotions or the angry, traumatized zombie hell bent on revenge. I’m just Jason— just Jay.” 

“Did Roy help you rehearse that?” You chuckled, trying to bring the attention away from your blushing cheeks and flustered demeanor. 

“He called me crazy when I practiced it— made a bet that I wouldn’t be able to last a week without it.” He laughed quietly with you, then brought your hand up to softly kiss your knuckles. “But these two days were the worst pain I’ve ever felt— I’d honestly take a crowbar over this any day.” 

“Oh my god- don’t say that.” You giggled, lightly slapping his arm, your blush intensifying. 

“It’s true though. Every word. You want to settle down, get a nice little house in the suburbs with a white picket fence, maybe a dog and some kids? I’m game. I just need to be with you.” 

“Woah there, cowboy. You need to propose before you start talking to me about being a suburban family with a dog.” 

“Is that your way of saying that if I proposed, you’d say yes?” He teased, but you could tell he was trying to play it off and not seem like he was genuinely asking. 

“Probably, to be honest.” You shrugged, nonchalant. The answer was yes though. If he proposed, you’d say yes before he could even finish asking. 

“Good to know. I’m not getting your father’s blessing though. I’d say it’s out of respect for you as an autonomous woman in the 21st century, but it’s more just out of spite.” 

“I figured.” You chuckled. “But seriously, Jason, I’m not asking you to give that up. If we do decide to settle down and have kids, that’s a different story— there’s not a chance in hell I’m continuing the cycle of an emotionally and physically absent father, so you better be ready to drop it all in a heartbeat.” 

“What about… guys night once a month where Roy and I get together and beat the shit out of some bad guys for old times sake?” You narrowed your eyes at him, but couldn’t hide your smile. 

“You drive a hard bargain… but fine. Guys night once a month and that’s it.” 

“Yes ma’am.” He grabbed you and effortlessly placed you onto his lap. “I love you.” He murmured, placing a soft kiss on your neck to hide his blushing face. “More than anything. And I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay.” You said quietly, wrapping your hands around him and placing one on the back of his head to play with his hair. 

“It’s not okay though.” He said, pulling back. “Part of the reason I love being with you is because you never put up with any of my shit. You always used to call me out, never let me walk all over you.” He reached up and lightly pushed your hair behind your ear. “So I- I didn’t realize that anything was wrong— I’m not trying to make excuses and it shouldn’t be your burden alone to tell me to get my act together, but every once in a while, if you’re noticing a pattern you don’t like, please don’t just put up with it.” He cupped your cheek as his eyes bored into yours in an almost hypnotizing way.

“I love you so much and I’d do anything for you. You deserve so much more than being someone’s second priority and I’m sorry that I haven’t acted like it.” You gave him a small smile, trying not to get nervous and distant because of the affection— another thing you have your dad to thank for. 

“I love you too.” You said quietly. “Thank you for the apology, I appreciate it.” The corners of his lips turned up and he leaned forward to give you a quick kiss. And to think, only yesterday you were content to wallow in self pity and sadness, accepting the fact that you tried as hard as you could, but somethings just aren’t meant to be. 

“Dick was right.” You suddenly realized, making his expression turn into one of confusion. “God- he’s going to hold this over my head for the rest of my life.” You groaned, leaning forward so your head was in the crook of his neck. 

“What was Dick right about?” He asked, trying to sound amused, but the confusion was clear in his tone. 

“That you’d change and just need me to threaten to fly you into space to remind you to keep your act together.” He snorted a laugh, but you could tell he was still very confused. 

“Yeah that sounds like Dick. I can’t say I’m too upset about it though, since he got you to change your mind.” 

“Don’t ever tell him that.” You warned. “His ego does not need to get any bigger.” 

“Trust me, princess. That’s the last thing I want.” The chuckled, placing his hands on your hips. 

me 🤝 not knowing how to end one shots

[nova-is-a-writer-now]

Hidden embers

Chapter 5

Chapter summary: You and Joel have a much needed conversation to try and fix things, key word “try.”

A/N: Hi hellooo it’s hidden embers Wednesday (BETTER LATE THAN NEVER). Writing this story is genuinely bringing me so much joy, I’m glad you guys are enjoying reading it as much as i am enjoying creating this world. If you haven’t figured it out yet, this story is much more about the plot than it is about smut or fluff, so if that’s what you’re here for, you’re gonna have to be patient (it’s gonna be worth it i promise!!) Again, tysm for the support on this, the comments make me so so happy and motivate me to keep writing this, much appreciated 🤍

Warnings: No outbreak AU, no use of y/n, no sarah, Age gap, DBF!Joel, Slow burn, a tiny bit of angst, Mean!Joel if you squint

Series masterlist

You’re in a shit mood. Have been for a while, though you refuse to dig too deep to pinpoint when it started. It might’ve been around the time Joel kicked you out of his house, but honestly, it’s inconsequential.

The point is, your mood’s been sour for the past week, and this stupid boot you have to wear for your sprained ankle isn’t helping. What really pisses you off is the doctor saying that if you hadn’t walked on it, it’d be a grade 1 sprain instead of a grade 2.

‘Cause what the fuck does he know about why you refused that car ride home? What does he know about the churning, boiling anger twisting in your gut every time you hear the name Joel Miller? And then, to make it all worse, he had to recommend two weeks of bed rest so your ankle could heal properly and as fast as possible. Safe to say that doctor isn’t exactly on your list of favorite people right now.

On top of that, your mother’s been parading you around like a prized pony all week, forcing you to sit through those never-ending pageant meetings she insists on holding at the house. It’s like she’s playing the role of a doting, concerned mother in front of her friends, fussing over you as if you’re some fragile doll. Which is funny because you’ve told her on multiple occasions you’d rather stay in bed and rest your ankle than get dragged downstairs while on crutches, yet she insists on how rude it would be to not come greet the guests.

Thankfully, today’s a bit different. She’s gone out to scout venues for the pageant, leaving you in the care of your dad. Normally, you’d be relieved by that, but not today. Not when you overhear him on the phone inviting Joel over to watch the Cowboys game.

“Oh good, you’re up. Joel’s coming over,” your dad says with a grin as you make your way slowly towards the living room couch. “Figured we could all watch the game together. Like old times.”

You’re not a massive football fan, never have been, but watching the games with your dad was always something you enjoyed. It was your thing. Now, the thought of sharing that time with Joel makes your blood boil. Sure, he’s been doing this with your dad way longer than you have, but the last thing you need this week is Joel sitting next to you like nothing happened, like the astronaut-looking boot immobilizing your foot isn’t a constant reminder of why the injury got so bad in the first place. He might not be at fault for you walking all the way back home, but he’s certainly to blame for making you angry enough to do it.

The tightening knot in your chest isn’t just about what happened—though that certainly adds fuel to the fire—it’s about the mess of emotions you’ve been grappling with ever since. You’ve always prided yourself on being mature, on handling things with a level head and a clear mind. You’re the one who’s got it all together, the one people turn to when they need advice or a shoulder to lean on. But when it comes to Joel, all that goes out the window. You find yourself acting in a way you never have, even as a teenager.

You hate that you care this much, that his actions affect you so deeply, and that you can’t just brush it off like you do with everything else. You hate that what he is doing —the sudden coldness and firm boundaries— are probably the right thing for him to do. Hell, you even respect him for it, in a twisted way. He’s keeping a polite distance from his best friend's daughter, and it makes it that much more pathetic that it upsets you so much. His rejection, no matter how justified, still stings like a slap to the face, and the way he went about it, so abrupt and dismissive, only adds salt to the wound.

But it’s more than just anger at him. It’s anger at yourself, too. For feeling this way. For letting it get to you. For wanting something that you know you shouldn’t, something that feels wrong on so many levels. You can’t help but feel a creeping sense of shame, like you’re betraying the version of yourself that you’ve always tried to be—strong, independent, unshakeable. And yet, here you are, feeling small and foolish because of a man’s mixed signals.

You’re used to being in control of your emotions, but this? This is new, uncharted territory, and you don’t know how to navigate it without crashing and burning. So, you do the only thing you can think of: you shut down. You sweep all those feelings under the rug, acting like nothing happened and doing your absolute best to avoid Joel as much as possible. Because if you can’t be the strong, composed woman you’ve always tried to be, you can at least be the one in control of this situation, even if it’s just on the surface.

“I don’t know, Dad,” you start, trying to keep your voice casual. “I’m not really feeling up to it today. Maybe you two could just watch it without me?”

He gives you a look, that ‘puppy lefton on the side of the road’ look he always uses to get you to do whatever he wants. “C’mon, sweetheart. It’ll be fun. Besides, you’ve been cooped up all week. You need a little excitement.”

Excitement is the opposite of what you need right now. Maybe a day of peace and quiet would fix every single issue in your life, but there’s no arguing with him, not when he’s already so excited about it. So, you force a smile and nod. “Alright, I’ll watch.”

But as soon as you hear Joel’s truck pull up in the driveway, that forced smile slips off your face. When he walks through the door, it takes every ounce of willpower not to roll your eyes. He’s all smiles, greeting your dad with a hearty handshake, but when his gaze lands on you, it’s different. There’s a flicker of something—concern, maybe something else—but you don’t give him the satisfaction of reacting.

“Hey, kid,” he says, all casual-like, as if nothing ever happened.

“Joel,” you reply, your tone clipped, arms crossed as you turn back to the TV.

Your dad, oblivious as always, doesn’t notice the tension crackling in the air between you and Joel. He’s already settling into his recliner on your right, meaning Joel will have to sit to your left on the couch. You try to muster up the polite Southern girl your parents raised you to be, but your patience is thinning by the second, and you feel like a time bomb ticking away.

You do your best to ignore him. The game’s playing on the TV but your mind is far from focused on it. Your dad seems deep into it though, and for a second, you almost think Joel is, too. But then, out of nowhere, you feel his eyes on you.

“Didn’t think Presscott had it in him this season,” Joel says casually, trying to draw you in. His voice is low, familiar. He’s not even looking at you directly, just tossing the comment out there like he’s fishing for an easy reply.

You shrug without taking your eyes off the screen. “Guess we’ll see.”

The silence that follows isn’t comfortable, nothing like the ones you two have shared before. Even though you know you’re being short with him, you can’t stop yourself. It’s easier to keep things shallow, to avoid any real conversation, because if you let him in—if you let the words flow—the dam will break, and you’re not ready for that. Not here. Not with your dad in the room.

Joel doesn’t give up, though. “I remember last season your dad nearly threw the remote through the TV” he says, chuckling softly. “Thought he was gonna lose it when they botched that fourth-quarter drive.”

He’s trying to be light, trying to break the tension, but it grates on you. You force a laugh, but it’s hollow. “Yeah. Funny.”

You glance over at him, just briefly, and catch the way his brow furrows. It’s like he’s trying to gauge where you’re at, trying to figure out how to soften you up —the reason why he's so interested in doing so right now is beyond you. You can see the conflict there, the way he’s holding back—just like you are—but neither of you is willing to be the first to crack.

“How’s the um…” Joel starts again, voice softer now, “how’s the ankle? Healing alright?”

It’s such a simple question, but it feels like a loaded one. You swallow hard, the anger bubbling up in your chest. “Just peachy.” you say through gritted teeth, still not looking at him. “Let’s watch the game.”

Joel shifts beside you. You can feel him trying, can sense the struggle in him to connect in some way, but you won’t give him the satisfaction. Not after the week you’ve had, not after the way he’s been messing with your head.

He’s quiet for a few minutes, and you almost think he’s given up—until he tries again. “Look, I know we haven’t talked since—” he starts, but you cut him off with a sharp shake of your head.

“Drop it, Joel,” you mutter, so low your dad can’t hear. You still don’t meet his eyes. “Not now.”

Joel lets out a breath, and you feel the tension between you tighten, like a rope pulling tighter and tighter with every second that passes. He falls silent again, and for a while, the only sounds in the room are the commentators on the TV and your dad’s occasional cheers or groans at the game.

But it doesn’t feel over. The conversation, the tension, the unsaid words—it’s all still there, simmering beneath the surface, and you know it’s only a matter of time before something gives.

At halftime, your dad stands up to stretch his legs. You’re almost relieved when he breaks the silence, muttering something about his age. Joel laughs stiffly before replying with a quiet “Ditto.”

“I ran into Maryanne the other day, you know, the one from down the street. She was askin’ after you.” your dad says, grinning like it’s nothing. “Wanted to know if you ever got her message. You planning on callin’ her back?”

Joel hesitates, and you catch the slight shift in his posture from the corner of your eye. Your dad’s words hang in the air like a loaded gun, and suddenly, the room feels too small, too stifling.

Your stomach twists. Without thinking, you stand up abruptly, ignoring the sharp pang in your ankle as you do. “I need some air,” you mutter, voice clipped.

“Hey! Use the crutches kid, doctor said you still need ‘em.” Your dad calls after you.

“I’m fine dad, I’ll be out for just a second.” you don’t bother looking back as you make long strides towards the door.

You make it to the porch, the cool air doing little to calm the storm raging inside you. You lean against the railing, gripping it so hard your knuckles turn white. You’re furious—furious at him, at yourself, at this whole damn situation. How did you let it get this far? How did you let Joel Miller, of all people, get under your skin like this?

Minutes pass before you hear the door creak open behind you. You don’t have to turn around to know who it is. You can feel his presence, heavy and familiar. He’s quiet as he steps out onto the porch, giving you a little space, like he knows better than to push his luck right now. You only hear him setting the crutches up against the railing, next to where you stand.

“You alright?” he asks, his voice rougher now, not as soft as it was earlier. There’s a wariness to it, like he’s testing the waters, unsure of how far he can go.

You don’t turn to look at him. “Let’s not do this.”

“Do what?”

“Acting like you care while I act like I don’t.”

He shifts behind you, and you can hear the hesitation in his breath before he responds. “I do.”

You huff out a bitter laugh. “Funny way of showing it.”

He doesn’t answer right away, and you hate how the silence stretches between you, filling the space with all the things you’re not saying. Finally, he steps closer, but not too close—just enough that you can feel his presence at your back.

“I’m sorry for last week. It wasn’t right, I was… in a mood. Had nothing to do with you.” The lie is heavy on his lips, you can tell even though you haven’t known him long enough to figure out all his tells.

“Seems like it had a lot to do with me, couldn’t wait to get me out of there.” You’re being petty, you know. But he’s pushing you and you can only be patient for so long.

“Don't be like that…”

“So, how’s the whole gardening thing working out for you?” you press him, pumping the brattiness up a notch.

He stares at you, a glimmer of frustration rising in his eyes. “About as well as ignoring doctor’s orders to rest your ankle, I’d imagine.”

You narrow your eyes at him, resisting the urge to snap back. “I’m doing just fine, thanks.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” he mutters, his tone laced with sarcasm. “You’re real good at takin’ care of yourself.”

Your jaw tightens, but you keep your voice steady. “I don’t need someone to babysit me.”

“That what you think I’m doin’?” He steps a little closer, his voice dropping lower, almost challenging. “Babysittin’?”

You look away, the intensity in his gaze making it hard to hold. “I don’t know what you’re doing, Joel. One minute you’re... I don’t even know, and the next you’re pushing me away.”

He’s quiet for a moment, and you can feel the weight of his eyes on you. “Maybe I’m just tryin’ to do the right thing.”

“By keeping me at arms length?” you ask, finally turning to look at him again. There’s a vulnerability in your voice that you hate, but it slips out anyway.

“By not makin’ things harder than they need to be,” he says, his tone softening slightly, though there’s still a hint of frustration there.

You sigh, the fight draining out of you. “Yeah, well, it’s clearly not working out great.”

The silence that follows is heavy, filled with all the things neither of you is willing to say. But there’s a shift in the air, a slight easing of the tension that’s been coiling between you both.

“Look,” he says after a moment, running a hand through his hair. “I didn’t mean to… I just—”

“It’s fine,” you cut him off, not wanting to hear whatever half-assed apology he’s about to offer. “We’re fine.”

He nods, though you can tell he’s not entirely convinced. “Yeah. We’re fine.”

You both stand there for a few more seconds, the conversation lingering in the air like smoke, not fully dissipating but not choking you either.

“Guess we should head back in,” you finally say, breaking the silence. Your voice is calmer now, the anger simmering down to a low burn.

“Yeah,” he agrees, stepping back to give you space. “We should.”

You turn to head inside—using your crutches this time— and for a brief moment, your shoulder brushes against his. The contact is brief, almost accidental, but it sends a jolt through you. Neither of you acknowledges it, but the feeling lingers as you walk back into the house.

As you settle back into the living room, there’s still an odd tension between you, something unspoken that neither of you wants to touch. The game is back on, and you both pretend to watch, but your thoughts are elsewhere, circling around everything that was just said—and everything that wasn’t.

It’s not perfect, and it’s not exactly comfortable, but it’s better than before. The air is clearer, if only slightly, and though the weird vibes linger, you both settle into a truce of sorts.

For now, it’ll have to be enough.

Tag list: @yesjazzywazzylove-blog , @untamedheart81 , @mellymbee , @wintersquirrel , @chyannealaniz , @spiderman-n-n, @ghostofzion , @sjc7542 , @yyiikes , @pedrofan

[thot-writes]

MORE WEREWOLF X VAMPIRE FICS!! *slams fists on the table* I DEMAND MORE WEREWOLF X VAMPIRE FICS!!!!

how astarion would treat his werewolf gf (SFW);

Astarion is not as surprised as one might’ve expected him to be. he’s likely had a lot of experience with lycanthropes of all kinds through Cazador (that bitch)

when you’re revealed to be a werewolf, the cogs in his mind are already turning for suggestive jokes he can make about it

you actually hear him (thanks to your superior hearing) in front of his tent mumbling them to himself as he workshops them

“‘Every good dog deserves a bone…’ hm… no, that sounds too seedy. Maybe… ‘if you’re a good little pup I’ll give you a… treat’? Gods, why is this so much harder than I thought?”

you have to cover your mouth to stop your hideous snickering. hearing his process on his meticulously crafted persona is simply too cute

you always end up turning the lines back onto him anyways. after all, if you’re the dog but he’s the one on all fours and begging, what does that make him?

astarion is a little disappointed that you can never wear silver, and he tells you so. it burns you to the touch, but also it would look so good on your gorgeous skin— isn’t a little bit of pain worth it for the fashion?

you throw garlic cloves at him for suggesting it. luckily for him the tadpole negates what damage that would normally do.

loves the bloodthirst. he’ll cheer you on when you’re getting worked up & rabid during battles

occasionally you’ll have bouts where all you crave is extreme violence. it’s quite manageable, they normally only happen when a full moon is close or when you’re in the middle of a particularly nasty fight.

one time, you tackled a man who’d targeted astarion and bit half his face off. you don’t even know why you did it, it just felt like the right thing to do at the time— and your adrenaline was running too fast for you to stop and think for a second

if astarion’s heart was still beating, he was sure it would’ve fluttered at that moment. seeing you defend him with such aggression was so… romantic

he had to resist the urge to pull you in for a kiss. at least while you still had the man’s face-skin in your mouth (did you eat it or spit it out?)

as your relationship shifts less from lust and more to love, he starts to express concerns over the darker parts of your curse.

astarion knows that while lycanthropy has a cure they’re often hard to find— and you’ve little interest in one at this point anyway. but doesn’t mean that doesn’t mean he can’t help you in other ways

when a full moon is coming and a horrific, agonising transformation is upon you, astarion stays by your side and tries to alleviate the pain by showing you have his support

after attempts of trying stronger and stronger pain-killing elixirs failed to make much of a difference, he decided that perhaps just being there with you was the better option

he’s by your side and resting your head on his lap, stroking your hair and offering the occasional word of encouragement

when it’s time to transform you get magically restrained and even still, he remains. sometimes he passes the hours with reading or embroidery, sometimes he tries to talk with you to see if you’re still in there

he hopes by doing this that you’ll learn to retain some control over yourself and you won’t need to be restrained each full moon. and it’s kind of working! once, he managed to calm you down enough to give you a little pat on the head— and that’s enough proof for him that you can best the beast

you’re not entirely sure if you believe him when he tells you that though

and as if astarion needed yet another reason to hate the gur, now he has one.

as a monster, they’ll be just as likely to hunt you. he won’t let them.

even if you have no strong feelings for the gur, astarion is brimming with more than enough spite and vitriol for both of you.

honestly, being a werewolf has made you two even closer than before. you can relate on certain issues now— you’re both bloodthirsty monsters, capable of losing all sense of control and reason, and when night falls is when the people of faerun should be the most fearful— for the night is your personal hunting ground.

astarion is very supportive of a lycanthrope partner (much like he is with a durge one) and will not judge you for it. when your control lapses, he reins you in, when you’re dealing with the pain of a pre and post-transformation, he helps you through it.

on the surface, you’re two fearsome, monstrous beasts that would send an average person running— but beneath, you’re two people madly in love, trying to temper the negative effects of your respective curses. for each other.

[leilani-lily]

~Oh Deer~ (Chapter 9)

A thousand apologies my dearest does and bucks ｡°(°.◜ᯅ◝°)°｡

This took much longer than anticipated; I hit a bit of a wall, and time escaped from me. But we're here! We trekkin' on! The story continues \( ᐖ)/

.... And we're actually splitting this into 3 rather than 2 because over 6k later and we're still not done yet so ahaha! Whoopsies~ (´∀｀);

｡°⚠︎°｡ Final note. This is a WARNING that this chapter includes mention of VIOLENCE, GORE, and SEXUAL ASSAULT so please read with caution if this is a trigger for you!! ｡°⚠︎°｡

Thank you all for your love and support, honestly ꨄ I've been feeling down lately and re-reading comments has really helped to boost my spirits and push me to keep going! I love y'all dearly ( •̯́ v •̯̀)♡

OK! Without further ado~ SYNOPSIS: AroAce! Alastor x Chef!Singer! Reader. You venture off on your own to grab Alastor's gift, unaware of the dangers to follow... Word Count: 6.2k Chapter under the cut! ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Your feet pounded on the pavement below you and you jogged towards the coffee stall. Your eyes were sharp and alert and your grip on Alastor’s microphone tight. You knew you had to be quick and extra careful now being on your own. But surprisingly enough, you weren’t afraid. Your blood was pumping with adrenaline, and with Alastor’s staff, you felt more powerful than you ever had in your entire life. It was exhilarating, to say the least.

Dodging in between sinners and recognizing landmarks, you were able to find the vendor in question without any problems. You breathed a sigh of relief, coming to a stop in front of the display table and taking a moment to catch your breath. A large, older imp with a white goatee raised an eyebrow at you questioningly from behind the counter. Finally, you stand up straight and give him a quick smile before your eyes flickered over everything he had to offer. 

As much as you enjoyed some of the quirky mugs on display, you knew in your heart what you really wanted. The problem is, you only knew the bare basics about coffee; you had no idea what made a good machine or not. You glanced around at all of the modern tech and felt your shoulders sag. Alastor would hate all of these; you needed something from his time; something more classical. 

“Somethin’ ya looking fer in pa’ticular dollface?”

You lifted your head to the imp across from you. He was leaning against the table with his other hand on his hip, his eyes tired and dull. You gave him a sheepish grin, clearing your throat quickly. 

“Ah, yes please…” you start, “This might sound weird. I’m looking for something from the 30’s that helps to brew coffee.” a thought crossed your mind, and you could feel yourself beginning to sweat, “I… uh. Actually. I don’t even know what they used back then… A kettle? Or some sort of special press…?” Your eyes drifted down awkwardly. Satan’s Ass, you have no idea what the Hell you’re looking for. This guy’s gonna think you’re an idiot. 

To your relief the imp said nothing, but you could tell he was judging you hard. He looked you up and down before simply shrugging off the table and turning on the spot. He began to shuffle through the shelving unit behind him, tea kettles and mugs clattering as he searched. The imp spoke to you over his shoulder.

“Ehhh, I don’ know girlie. I know I had somethin’ a while ago, but might’ve been snatched already.” he shuffled some more, “Antiques like dat are hard ta find, n’ when ya do, dey sell pretty quickly. Humans n’ nostalgia n’ all ‘at.” 

You could feel your fingers fidgeting nervously; you really hoped you didn’t just risk your safety for nothing. The excitement from earlier was beginning to fizzle out with the thought of not being successful. Maybe you could get him a nice mug instead? Or maybe one of those cute, little stirring spoons…

“Well I’ll be blessed th’n damned again…”

You looked up to the seller to see him turn around, a crooked smile on his face as he held what looked like two glass pots connected like an hour-glass. Your eyes widened in amazement at the strange looking contraption. 

“Called a ‘Silex Vacuum Siphon’. D’know what year it’s from, but ya ain't gonna find something more vintage den dis, I can guarantee.”

You tucked Alastor’s mike under your arm as you carefully took the glass contraption in your hands. It was definitely used, and could use a good cleaning. But there were no cracks or chips to be seen, no major damage that could affect its ability to brew. Given it was nearly a century old, it was in fairly good condition.

“It’s perfect.” you breathed, thumb grazing over the glass tenderly as your heart pittered excitedly. Alastor would absolutely love this, you just knew it. You had to get it for him, it was like it was destiny. Your head whipped up to the seller.

“How much?”

Said imp looked you up and down for a moment before his eyes landed near your arm. A sly smile crept up his mouth as his pupils flicked back up to your face.

“How ‘bout that fancy lookin’ cane o’ yours?”

Immediately you placed the siphon back down and clutched the microphone close to your chest, shooting daggers at the creature in front of you. “Absolutely not.”

To your relief, the imp just smiled and shrugged his shoulders, “Eh. Was woith a shot.” he chuckled, helping your tense shoulders to slowly relax. His eyes darted between you and the siphon, clearly deep in thought before crossing his arms.

“400”

You felt your breath catch in your throat. For fuck sakes, you figured it would be expensive, but this was highway robbery. And you knew very well that he knew that too; he was totally upping the price knowing how desperate you are. And as much as you needed it, you didn’t have enough on you. A thought crossed your mind, something you had observed when you explored the market. With as much confidence as you could muster, you laid your hands flat on the table and leaned in, giving him a very serious look.

“200”

The imp’s smile creaked up to his ears. “375”

You had to stop yourself from smiling and breaking the facade. It was working. Thank God, he seemed like the type who enjoyed a little haggling. If you could just get him down a little more, maybe you could actually pull this off.

“250”

“350”

“300” You finally declare, before quickly adding, “And! you wrap it up nicely for me.” you stare him down, leaning back up and crossing your arms in front of you. “That’s my final offer.”

The background noise of the market droned on as you both glared at each other across the booth. Eventually, the imp’s lips curled up devilishly before giving a sigh and shaking his head.

“Ya drive a hard bargain toots. Deal.” He cocked an eyebrow and reached a clawed hand out. You shook his hand coolly, but it was so hard to contain the excitement bouncing around in your chest. There was something exhilarating about negotiating prices; you could see why some demons got such a high off of coming to markets like these. Of course, this purchase was still going to drain you of all your cash, but it was well worth it. 

While he got to work bubble wrapping the siphon, you basically dumped your purse out and gave him every cent you had. He made sure to cushion the glass carefully and even found an empty box to place it in for double security. You honestly didn’t know how this interaction would've gone; you were initially worried he would’ve robbed you blind or threatened you. But as he handed you the bag with the goods and gave a final nod, you were beyond relieved to find that he actually seemed to be a decent guy. Maybe this market wasn’t completely full of thieves and swindlers like you had thought. 

You were practically skipping down the alley, one hand tight around Alastor’s microphone and the other holding your precious gift (but careful not to swing it around too much). You couldn’t wait to give this to him. You could feel your whole body tingling with anticipation. You really hoped that it did make a good cup of coffee; it would be a shame if it didn’t. Even so, it was such a funky looking thing, at the very least it could make for a cool decoration and hopefully bring back fond memories… You wondered how much of a difference there was between drinking coffee from a coffee machine or a siphon. You’d have to brew a pot with him tomorrow morning and-!

Your daydreaming was instantly snatched away as you were quickly dragged into the darkness of the ally beside you.

You went to scream but a large paw had clamped around your mouth before you could utter a sound. The bag slipped from your grasp and fell to the ground with a clatter, but thankfully you kept your grip on the staff tight. You immediately went to swing your arms, but both your wrists were grabbed, looking like mere toothpicks in the claws of the Hell Hounds that pulled you in. You kicked your feet up in protest as your yells were muffled, but you were no match for the sheer strength these creatures had as they dragged you further into the darkness and away from the crowds. They hauled you backwards until you felt your heels no longer dragged, indicating you had stopped, but you were barely aware of your surroundings. You continue to thrash your shoulders around and kick your feet up, desperately trying to escape like a caged wild animal. 

“Now now, there’s no reason to cause such a ruckus.”

Your eyes flash open and whip to the deep voice ahead of you. Your eyes fall onto a large silhouette leaning against the wall to your right, the brightness of the market ahead of you shading your captor’s full appearance. But as he pushed off and stepped closer, your eyes adjusted and were finally able to take in the finer details. Dripped in a rugged leather jacket and ripped jeans, the wolf looking Hell Hound sauntered towards you. His grin was fierce, and neon-yellow eyes practically glowed in the darkness. You could feel your mouth go dry and your legs turn to jelly. 

Your initial frenzied shock subsiding, you took a moment to look up at your two captors holding you back, One seemed to be a tall, muscular Mastiff with a slobbery snarl, his paws holding your right wrist and shoulder. The other was a Doberman type with cropped ears and sharp eyes, gripping tightly to your mouth and other wrist. You mumble out a pathetic plea and shimmy your shoulders again, trying to get their attention and hope that they take pity, but they pay you no mind, focusing instead on their alpha. 

“Don’t even bother chickie,” the silver dog snarked, making you turn your attention back to him, “We Hounds are very loyal to our pack; they’ll only listen to me.” Your eyes narrowed into angry slits, shooting daggers at the alpha. He merely snickered in reply. 

“You’re probably wondering who we are,” he mused, putting his hands behind his back and calmly pacing in front of you.  “Wondering what we want, why you’re here, ‘yadda yadda ya…” the dog babbled, making a yapping motion with his claws. He turned to you and gave you a cocky grin. “You should know that we don’t usually do this kind of thing… we’re actually nice guys once you get to know us!”

The two dogs behind you chuckle darkly, not at all making you feel reassured. 

“We’re nothing but humble thieves,” the wolf continued, sauntering back over to you, “Steal enough to make a humble living. Only take what we need. Provide for the pack. Today was supposed to be like any other…” 

The alpha’s yellow eyes suddenly grew dull, his smug smile slowly falling to a sneer as he stopped in front of you. The look on his face made a nervous shudder crawl down your spine. 

“... Until that ugly ass, bob-cut bastard stepped in.”

Bob-cut…? What in the Hell is he-

“Tyrion was so sneaky about it too, I was sure the wallet was as good as ours.” the wolf continued, his voice a mix of sorrow and venom. “But then that red-clad fucker saw him and…” you noticed his paws clench into tight fists, his eyes narrowing angrily. 

Red-clad… Oh god… could he mean?

“I saw it with my own eyes. That mad-man butchered him like a pig. Didn’t even give him a chance to apologize or make amends.” His nose was scrunched up in rage before it softened, his eyes holding the tiniest bit of horror, “But I think what was the most haunting was the way that creep smiled the entire time. Almost as if he was enjoying it.”

… God fucking damnit Alastor. 

“You seemed like such an easy target too.” the alpha’s neon eyes flicked up to you. “We didn’t realize what kind of monster you had on a leash.”

You felt your heart sink into your stomach as you recalled that wild look in Alastor's eyes earlier, the way his smile seemed sharper... Damnit, you felt so stupid now. How did you not notice? Dear God, how many others had died today by Alastor’s hands? It was clear that this ‘Tyrian’ was trying to steal from you, but did that really warrant death? You felt a twinge of guilt settling in your stomach. 

“So when my boy’s noticed you gallivanting on your own, I couldn’t believe our luck.” the wolf chuckled, leaning in closer until you were face to face, “You seriously made our job so much easier.”

Your cast-down gaze immediately scrunched into one of distrust, feeling your body become on-edge as you focused back on your captor. The wolf smirked at your helplessness, eyeing you up and down before his gaze fell to your left hand. His eyebrows shot up in interest.

“And look at this!” He taunted, leaning back up and reaching for Alastor’s staff, “You even brought us an apology gift! What a nice little girl~”

Your eyes widened in horror, trying to jerk your hand away from the wolf’s grasp. But the Doberman held your wrist tight, making it near impossible for you to do anything as the alpha grabbed hold of the microphone and ripped it from your grasp. You let out a whimper of despair as it left your hand, to which the silver dog’s ears perked, and turned to give you a hungry look.

“Hmmm, what a pretty sound. Almost makes me want to hear it again~”

You could feel your blood boiling at his words, and in a fit of rage, you kick your feet up aggressively. To your dismay, the leader jumped out of the way in time, a joyous laugh escaping his muzzle as he hopped to the side. The two dogs holding you immediately tightened their grip on you, pulling you back and holding you more securely. You huffed through your nose like an angry bull, shooting the wolf a venomous glare as he howled and dusted off his jacket. 

“Wooh! And feisty too. Gotta admit, that just turns me on more~” he grinned, showcasing his sharp fangs and blackened gums. His pupils flicked between his friends, “Do me a favor boys, secure those legs of hers so she doesn’t do that again.” 

Almost immediately, the two henchmen each step on your feet with their large paws, pinning your feet underneath theirs. You try to lift your legs up and away to test your mobility, but sure enough, your feet were locked in place. Panic started to settle now realizing just how much trouble you were in, and instinctively, you jut your shoulders out aggressively to try and once again escape. The wolf snickered at your struggles, slowly moving closer to you. 

“Now originally, we were just going to kill you and leave it at that.” the alpha hummed, eyes slowly grazing your body, “But hey, why stop there? Why waste a perfectly good meal without getting the chance to have a bite~”

Faster than lightning, his free paw came up and slashed at your chest, making you cry out in pure agony underneath the Doberman's paw. White specs blotted your sight as your mind froze in shock. You didn’t have to look to know; you could feel what he had done. Your body felt both cold and hot, from where your dress was torn and your body exposed to the air, and from where you could feel your blood begin to soak into what remained of your dress. You tried so hard to not make too many noises after the wolf's disgusting words, but the way your skin was burning, it was hard not to. Your eyes were beginning to water as you focused your attention back on the leader. Guilt be damned, you didn’t feel a thing for these bastards anymore. You wanted to make them hurt the way they hurt you. 

Outrage helped you find the strength to thrash around again, desperately trying to free your limbs so you could land a punch, a kick, anything. The Hell Hound took a step back to avoid your violent thrashing, chuckling at your display and licking his lips.

“Calm down now Sheila, don’t make this harder than it needs to be. It will be over before you know it…” He began his advance again, and you could feel your skin begin to prickle with panic. You continue your thrashing, lifting your legs and pulling at your arms, hoping that something would give way before it was too late.

And by the grace of God above, you felt your left shoe loosen under the paw of the Doberman.

An opportunity.

You spring into action, giving your left knee one final thrust upwards, making your foot pop out of your shoe and free from its confinement. Without even thinking, you slam it down hard into the Doberman’s bottom foot, making sure to dig your heel in deep. The skinny dog howled in agony, his grip on your arm and mouth loosened, giving you the chance you needed to act. As he bends over to grab at his tender paw, you bring your left arm across your chest and swiftly ram your elbow right into his muzzle. The force, along with his now injured foot, is enough to send him toppling over and slamming onto the ground, clutching his now bloodied nose.

Not wasting a precious second, you take the momentum from your left elbow and swing it over to your right, turning your body and socking the Mastif right in the face. He too yelps in pain, letting go of your right arm and freeing your other foot. As he steps back, distracted by the punch you landed, you grab him by the shoulders and lunge your left knee square into his groin. The Hell Hound let out a pathetic squeak as he immediately crumpled to the ground, curling into fetal position as he cradled his tenders.

Two down. One to go.

“Oh you BITCH!”

Right as you turn to face the wolf, his arm was already raised and ready to strike, swiftly bringing it down and backhanding your cheek. You cry out in pain, the sheer strength knocking you off your feet and making you fall harshly on your backside, cracking your head on the pavement. Your bun had come undone, your hair curtaining your glassy gaze as you watched the alpha throw the microphone to the side and stomp towards you. Too dazed by the blow, you felt him come down on you and straddle your hips, bringing his paws down over your throat.

“You think you’re tough shit girlie?” he snarled, his grip on your neck tightening, “Let’s see how tough you are once you beg for mercy.” 

You gasped for air desperately, your hands clawing at his paws and legs kicking out behind him. Your heart was racing anxiously, eyes darting all around you to see if there was anything around that could help you. A shimmer of light catches your eye, and you're just able to turn your head ever so slightly to your right. Your silver hair pin glistened in the light beside you, like a gift from God himself. 

You turn your attention back to the wolf, not wanting to reveal your plan to him. You could feel your vision begin to spot from lack of oxygen, but you stretch out your right arm, desperately trying to reach the pin without making it obvious. You felt the cool metal suddenly come in contact with your fingertips, rolling it closer to you into it finally was tight in your fist. With as much strength as you could muster, you swing your arm up and over, stabbing your assaulter right where his shoulders met his neck.

The wolf immediately howled in pain, rolling to his side and off you to grasp at the makeshift weapon lodged in his neck. You gasped for breath, feeling your blurry vision slowly speckle back as you choked in air. Exhaustion was taking over at this point; your head felt heavy from all the blows, and you could feel your body becoming numb from the blood-loss. Your eyes lazily scanned the area until they locked on Alastor’s mike, and you knew this would be your last chance if you wanted to survive this. 

You force your weak body to move, crawling on the ground as quick as you could towards the staff, scratching your arms and stomach as you went. You whimpered in agony, wishing to just give up and let sleep take over. But Alastor was waiting for you. Your friends back at the hotel were waiting. You couldn’t give up, not after coming this far.

Finally, you manage to stretch out and grab the mike, pulling it close to your mouth and taking a big breath.

“ALAS-!”

A fuzzy hand gripped your ankle and yanked you whole body away, making you cry out in fear as your plea was cut off. Your body scrapped painfully on the ground, dirt and tiny rocks grating against your open wounds. You whip your body around, cane still tight in hand and flinging it over to strike your opponent. But the wolf caught it skillfully in his paw, his pupils constricted and baring his fangs, the fur on his neck now sticky and tainted red. 

“Enough of this shit.”

The hound threw the staff out of your grasp and to the side, straddling you once again, but this time pinning both your arms over your head with one arm and leaning over you dangerously. You sobbed out in agony, your mind desperately telling your body to fight, but too exhausted to react. The alpha sneered down at you, panting and eyes wild with fury.

“Believe me when I say I find no pleasure in killing.” he growled, his hot breath hitting your face and making you whine out in dread. “But now…” The dog began to raise his free arm high in the air, his claws extracting with a sharp sound. 

“I’m gonna enjoy watching you bleed out.” 

A sob escaped your throat, tears streaming down your face in thick streams. This was it. This was going to be how you died. You had never actually died in Hell yet, and a part of you was scared. How long until you came back to life? Would you remember any of this… Fuck, would you remember anything at all? You couldn’t imagine a life outside of the hotel, not now. Not without the friends you've made. Certainly not without Alastor. The thought was unbearable. 

His arm came down swiftly, and you cried out in terror, shutting your eyes tight and turning your head, trying to block out the nightmare in front of you. You heard a slash of skin being torn and felt your whole body tense at the sound. You waited for the searing pain, for the blood to gush out from you until you became numb. 

But oddly enough, you didn’t feel anything.

You dared to peek up at the wolf on top of you, a peculiar look on his face as he was frozen in mid swing. His eyelid twitched, mouth partially open before his top half suddenly began to … slide?

“Funny you should say that, I was thinking ₮ⱧɆ ɆӾ₳₵₮ ₴₳₥Ɇ ₮Ⱨł₦₲.” 

Before you could comprehend where the voice came from, the wolf's upper body slid clean off his waist, toppling to the side and beside you on the ground. You slowly sat up, unable to speak as blood began to pool around you, both from his severed chest and his hips and legs. A large black tentacle came up from behind you and grabbed onto one of the wolf's ankles, picking up the severed lower section and flinging it off of your body. You blink in recognition, feeling your  initial shock subside and your chest tighten with hope. You turned around towards your saviour, but had to hold in your gasp at the creature behind you.

Microphone once again tight in his grasp, this demon was as tall as the buildings surrounding you; body barely able to fit between the narrow alleyway as he bent over you. Horns tripled in size and much more resembled deer antlers, black tentacles splayed from his back and writhing around, huge hands and talons sharp, eyes black as night and scarlet pupils in the shape of  dials, and a red ‘x’ on his forehead burning brightly. 

You had never seen Alastor in this state; in his true demonic form. You almost didn’t believe it was him. But his characteristic smile was ever present, your skin feeling that familiar buzz of electricity from his sound waves. You knew just how powerful he was, but to witness him at his full potential, it truly was a sight to behold. 

The giant form was watching you this whole time, dials flickering over your tiny body below him. From your face, to your torn chest and dress, to your bloodied legs, and back up to you. You felt a chill crawl down your spine as you locked eyes, your breath catching in your throat. Any other person would have been terrified looking up at such a creature, but oddly enough, you felt the safest you had ever been. Though you could feel the outrage that was emanating from his very body, you could sense the recognition in his eyes, the kindness deep within those haunting eyes.

The clatter of a loose can snapped you both out of your gaze, Alastor whipping his giant head up and forward, once again sharp and on alert. You heard a whimper of fright and manage to notice the Mastiff tumble out from the shadows and begin to run, yelling like a child and scrambling to get as far away as possible. There was a sudden buzz in the air, the Radio Demon’s smile curling up on his face and drooling blood. A chilling laugh escaped his throat, his jaw practically unhinging like a snake. 

“Well that was not a wise decision on your part…” Alastor growled, his voice deeper and booming as the sound practically shook the ground beneath you. His large body began to move forward, crawling like an animal and the screeching of static ringing out in the air.

“Don’t you know a hunter ⱤɆⱠł₴ⱧɆ₴ ł₦ ₳ ₲ØØĐ ₵Ⱨ₳₴Ɇ??”

The Overlord pounds forward, surprisingly fast for his size as the Hell Hound screeches in horror, sprinting further into the darkness of the alleyway ahead. You sat in the pool of the alpha’s blood, still stunned at the events of this afternoon and unable to do anything other than sit and stare. You numbly look over to the severed wolf beside you, his eyes already glossy and deprived of any life.

One.

You look back up to the large lanky demon stomping forward, laughing maniacally as whimpered screams of the Mastiff could be heard bouncing off the brick walls.

Two.

You blinked for a moment, your brain slow to process, but eventually catching up to the current events and what seemed wrong about this picture.

Fuck. 

Where was the Doberman. 

You heard some shuffling from behind a dumpster and whip your head over, your previous question instantly being answered. The skinny dog limped forward, eyes locked on Alastor and unaware of you watching him. He limped forward, his right paw still sore from you stomping on it. But his arm was tucked into his jacket suspiciously, and you felt your eyes narrow dubiously. A soft click snapped from inside the cloth, and the Doberman pulled out what appeared to be a gun, pointing it right at Alastor’s back. 

But there was something about this weapon that made you feel uneasy. The silver finishes that swirled around it, the way it practically radiated light in the darkness. There was something about this weapon that felt unnatural; like it didn’t belong in this world.

It seemed almost… Holy… 

You felt your blood run cold. 

It was all a blur. Rage and fear had taken full control of your body. Whatever exhaustion you had felt earlier was forgotten, whatever aches and pains slowing you down were no longer a hindrance. Completely fuelled with adrenaline and desperation, you scramble forward, bending over and grabbing your hair pin splayed on the ground. You sprint at a speed in which you never had before, screeching out Alastor’s name in warning before leaping onto the hound from behind.

The Doberman shouted in protest, raising his arms in defense and misfiring. The sound ricocheted off the walls, causing the Radio Demon to whip his head around, mouth half full of the Mastiff to a sight truly unbeheld. 

Your legs tight around the Dobermans waist, your one hand gripped at his head while the other continuously stabbed him in the neck. The dog clawed away at your arms desperately, howling out in pain as blood began to gush from his throat. But his screams were nothing compared to yours. Like a wild animal, you shrieked in fury, holding him tight and eyes feral as you punctured his neck again and again. The Doberman’s eyes eventually rolled to the back of his head, falling to his knees and landing face first on the ground. But as you went down with him, you continued your assault, kneeling over him with both arms overhead and slamming the hair pin into his back again and again and again.

Alastor watched from afar, jaw hanging open and the Mastiff’s carcass falling out from between his razor teeth. Never had he imagined he would see a spectacle such as this, certainly not from the likes of you. Not the girl who sang jazz in the kitchen, laughed at his horrendous puns, and slept so peacefully in his presence. He was convinced you were an angel in disguise, too pure for this damned world. 

And yet.

Here you were, stabbing and slashing and drenched in another's blood.

And he got to witness it.

Your furious screams started sputtering into sobs, and Alastor immediately snapped out of his thoughts. He immediately shifted into the shadows, slithering to you at lightning speed and emerging beside you, back to his regular appearance and hesitating a moment before gently placing both his hands on your shoulders.

“Y/n,” he spoke tenderly, “Y/n, darling. It’s ok. He’s gone. You’re safe.”

The sound of his voice made you whip your head up to him, snapping you out of your daze. Your eyes were wide with horror making Alastor flinch, unsure how you were going to react. Immediately, you turn your upper body to him, grabbing onto his cheeks with bloodied hands and inspecting his face all over.

“Are you ok??” you sob, eyes panicked and looking all over his body, “you didn’t get hit, did you?? God please tell me you’re ok!”

Alastor blinked back his confusion, his eyebrows furrowing at your words. “Of course I’m alright my dear, whatever do you-!”

A glimmer of light caught his eye, and his gaze was momentarily pulled away from your frantic face. Upon laying eyes over the peculiar weapon, he felt his eyes widen in recognition. There was no mistaking the silver swirls decorating the gun. He had heard rumours of such weapons, not yet having the pleasure of seeing anything of the like in real life. 

He had heard the gunshot earlier, and was worried you were on the other end of the rifle which had triggered him to turn. But he hadn’t considered that the bullet was intended for him. Of course, a regular bullet wound was of no concern to him, he had survived much worse. 

But a bullet from an angelic weapon? 

As he formed the picture in his head, you calling out his name desperately and your sudden panic for his well being, it didn’t take him long to put the pieces together. 

You didn’t kill out of self defense.

You had killed to protect him.

You had killed for him. 

His mind was tumbling with this new wave of information and emotions, something that he didn’t often struggle with. But he felt your hands slip away from his face, causing him to focus back on you. Your head was bent down, hair draping over and covering your face, and soon your shoulders began to tremble. The distinct sound of you crying caused a jolt to shoot up Alastor’s spine, and immediately he lowered a hand under your chin to tilt your head up towards him. Sure enough, big salty tears were streaming down your face. But what caught him the most off guard was the weepy smile spread across your face. 

“Thank God.” you wept, your voice so soft he almost didn’t hear it, “I-I was so worried… I couldn’t live with myself if…” your lip trembled as you burst into tears. Whether they were tears of relief or fear, he wasn’t sure, but one thing was for certain.

Alastor had never seen someone so shaken at the thought of him dying.

And that made him feel… something. 

But he didn’t have time to delve into that. Not right now. He had to address this situation before he could dissect his thoughts. He knelt beside you, truly taking in your state of dress and being. Your dress was torn to shreds and blood-soaked, your chest bearing deep claw marks, the side of your head had dried blood spilling from your hairline, cheek swollen, scrapped stomach and legs, and bruises scattered all over your body. 

Rage swelled up in his body. Furious at the hounds who did this to you. Bitter at you for thinking that going off on your own was a good idea. And most of all, outraged at himself for allowing this to have happened in the first place. And when that last thought trickled into his brain, he felt something else slither in his mind to replace that anger. An ancient feeling he hadn’t felt in a very long time; ever since he was alive. 

Guilt.

What a terrible emotion. He hated it with every fiber of his being. He never felt regret or sorrow for the actions he took since descending to Hell. Why would he when dealing with demons and creatures alike that he saw as mere obstacles in his way? But as he looked down at your crumpled form, his usual sunny sparrow clipped of her wings and trembling before him. Knowing that he had broken his promise of protecting you… 

His eyebrows furrowed, ears falling flat on his head as his jaw clenched tightly. 

Of course, you weren’t at all aware of the torment currently happening in Alastor’s mind. You were just so damn relieved he was ok, and that you were alive to tell the tale. Your choked sobs were slowly lessening, trying to focus on your breathing and just so freaking grateful to still have oxygen in your lungs. As you took deep breaths to calm your racing heart, you could feel your eyes growing tired, body slowly relaxing finally knowing the horror was over. The aches and pains were coming back to life, your chest especially burning painfully and your dress sticky with blood. Whatever adrenaline that was pumping through your veins was fastly subsiding, blood loss making your head heavy and limbs numb. 

You didn’t even realize you were falling over until you felt long arms catch you, holding you up so you didn’t hit the ground. You could hear the familiar buzz of Alastor’s radio-like voice speaking to you, but your head was swimming, and your ears weren’t able to pick up what he was saying. You tried to look up at him, but your vision was so blurred, he was just a red fuzz in your eyes. You were so tired; you just wanted to sleep. And Alastor’s body was so warm and familiar, it was like a comforting blanket. You leaned in closer to his body, desperate for that feeling after such a harrowing event.  

You could feel yourself fading fast, and a single thought emerged that made you panic a moment. The bag. The present. You can’t leave that damned thing behind. You reached out a hand and lazily padded at Alastor’s chest, mumbling out a string of words that you prayed made sense. The red blob tilted to the side, and you knew he was confused, but you couldn’t fully explain yourself. He was smart, you knew he would figure it out. And you knew he would take care of you; you were in safe hands now. 

You could finally allow yourself to sleep. 

Your vision was quickly dimming, darkness beginning to surround you until eventually your eyelids fell shut and you blacked out completely.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

FIRST PREVIOUS NEXT

My beautiful does and bucks: @saccharine-nectarine @doowopshewop @mysterypotatoink @wendds @crispybelieverworld @raicomme ((WE GOT MORE BEAUTIFUL SINNERS YAY ꨄ ))

[howlsofbloodhounds]

How do you think Delta/Beta and Epic learned about Color's abandonment trauma? Or his trauma from the VOID and his AU?

Considering I like to HC that Delta and Color became roommates really not long after Color managed to escape the Void, I think the signs of something having happened were honestly very obvious. Id imagine Color wasn’t exactly the most physically healthy or clean or decent smelling guy, due to the lack of water/ability to clean himself and nothing to eat in the Void.

We don’t know how long Color spent in Othertale’s Void, but if it was long enough, he could’ve likely needed support to be able to gather enough strength in his bones to even walk, let alone long distances. The Judgement Hall in the Void wasn’t very spacious.

Considering he likely had to sleep on the floor, he may have back problems—and probably struggled to adapt to sleeping on a bed (too soft), sleeping with pillows or a blanket, sleeping in the dark and sleeping alone.

I wouldn’t be suprised if Color often woke up panicking in the first few weeks, possibly even avoided sleeping all together. Or maybe he overcompensated by oversleeping, considering that was likely the only thing he could really do in the Void. Id imagine it eventually became a situation where to get any comfortable sleep at all, Delta eventually offered Color to sleep in the bed with him or just in his room.

Overstimulation (Autistic + having dealt with prolonged isolation + basically sensory deprivation), constant fatigue, probably having to relearn and adapt to his impaired depth perception—constantly bumping into things or spilling drinks and food all over himself. He probably displayed disordered eating patterns for awhile there, either overeating or simply just not eating enough (perhaps having to readjust to the idea that food is available now.)

He might find himself struggling to adapt to Gaster not being there, and Delta’s presence—there may be days where he struggles to truly believe that he’s out and that other people can see him and are aware that he exists. He may have even developed a habit of talking to himself out loud in the Void, self soothing techniques, and he may even be able to do things like play games that were intended for 2 or more people by himself just to pass his boredom.

Color hates being alone, and sure he had Gaster, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t used to being alone. There’s only so much Gaster could’ve done—I’m sure Color has learned ways to manage his symptoms, boredom, complete and utter loneliness on his own.

He’s likely figured out ways to soothe himself, maybe even engage in his own positive or affirmative self talk, simply because im sure there was a lot of times Color either didn’t want Gaster’s help or couldn’t stand Gaster’s help without things getting worse for him.

There may even be times where Color just falls mute for whatever reason (compared to his normal excessive yapping he might’ve engaged in just to fill the silence), and just take to silently standing nearby or following Delta around. Because he doesn’t want to be alone.

All is to say, im sure Delta notices immediately that Color isn’t doing very well and seems to have lost social skills. Is behaving both like he hasn’t been around people or the outside world in a very, very, long time—and like a traumatized person. The issues with food, shower, water—seem to suggest having been unable to have access to such things for quite awhile—especially if Color struggles to remember doing so.

I’m sure spacing out and dissociating was often a problem in the early days—like in the Othertale short where Color was just staring dead eyed out into space before Core Frisk showed up.

I’m sure Delta notices all this and more and speculates on everything, putting pieces together, but probably doesn’t ask for direct confirmation—just focuses on trying to help Color adjust back to the actual world. If Delta ever does learn, it’s likely because Color just tells him. When he’s ready.

[herejusttosufferalong]

Alright, I’ve been an Italy truther for a long time, but I’ve had to readjust my thinking after the live tonight. I am now pretty firm in the fact that they were together in some capacity by the beginning of 2023 (if not a little earlier). There are too many things lining up that don’t point anywhere else. I think L was fully in, but N kept things more at an arms length. She has said she’s cynical about love and honestly I think she was also probably scared by the magnitude of it. My guess is she hid behind her busy schedule filming both Bridgerton and Big Mood and L starting TSOTs as an excuse to keep things more casual. Honestly, I think L getting on Raya and his HBS is more reactionary to this than anything else. It seems like a big game of chicken that went horribly wrong on both sides. N wanted to keep things more casual and al tried to call her bluff.

I think the final straw for a was the Emily Bear incident. She was in too deep and had a glimpse at the negativity and how all of this could hurt their careers which seems like an absolute deal breaker to her. It was also just a smack in the face even though she wouldn’t commit herself. The play is the last time they saw each other before they parted ways. They made sure to do it as friends so as not to affect their working partnership and because they both really love each other.

L was devastated and just dove headfirst into HBS and quickly after him and N parted ways, he met A. She was fun and easy and fit in with his friends. And, maybe most importantly, was the complete opposite of N. He kept it mostly to himself and when him and N checked in and chatted, he never told her he had met one person, just that he was dating. Then the NYE kiss he never intended to get out was broadcast everywhere. This kind of picks up where I originally had thought which is that the early tour weirdness was based on this.

I think what we say Valentines Day on was N and L back together and on a good page thinking they could go forward as friends. They thought they’d found their equilibrium. They were wrong. Bowral showed them how wrong they were. Everything came rushing back once they were out traveling together and spending so much time. L might’ve been upset that N was trying so hard to act like everything was totally fine. I think the Italy convo was more a hashing out of what N was really feeling in 2023 vs what she had previously communicated. Hence why we get them progressively getting loved up and happy the remainder of the tour. I think post Brazil, L and A had a talk that he was still mulling over the rest of the tour.

In Galway, post premiere, when he may or may not have stayed the weekend with her and her family, they had a convo and L told N he was in a relationship with A and he needed to see that through. My guess this was fueled partly by guilt towards A, partly him having real feelings for A (not like he has for N though) and partly cause he was rejected by N previously and was still hurt and also a little reluctant to go down that road again knowing how devastated he was the first time.

N being the strong, badass that she is took it in stride even though she was totally heartbroken. She started to harden her heart back up which is why we see her reacting a little less to L (or trying at times) when they were back in London. I think they both were emotional for different reasons at the London premiere, but they still found comfort in each other cause no matter what, the absolutely love each other and again reaffirmed they will stay friends no matter what.

N has totally softened and begun to believe in love because of L (😭), but totally understands where he is at which is why she has supported him even in light of pap gate. She’s heartbroken, but hopeful in a way she never had been before.

Cut to the video JVN posted of her signing along to T Swift’s Enchanted…

🎶please don’t be in love with someone else…

There is a lot to consider here anon

Thank you for sharing 💜

Also adding in your follow up ask below 👇

“I just sent in an essay length ask about previously being an Italy truther, but I wanted to add something….I’ve always thought it was weird that L brought A to some stops at the beginning (Jan/feb) of the press tour and I think if he was feeling insecure about his relationship with N, it would make total sense for him to bring her as a safety blanket. I’m not saying he’s madly in love or anything, but I think she’s easy. If he was stressed about his dynamic with N, then having an excuse to retreat to something/someone simple would be nice. I think that’s also part of why we maybe didn’t see her later in the tour. Yes, they were busy, but he didn’t need her or want her there anymore.”

[4am-enha]

i loved ur enha finding u crying story and was wondering if u could do one w jungwon comforting/cheering on their s/o while practicing hard/during their taekwondo match! i do taekwondo and jungwon is my bias and i may or may not always bring his pc to competitions as a sense of comfort. but tyy :)

A Kick in the Heart.

pairing: (gn) taekwondo student reader x s/o taekwondo partner jungwon

genre: fluff fluff fluff fluff

wc: ≈ 2k

description/tags: yang jungwon from enhypen, basically the ask above sums it up, comfort, support, frustration, “my love/dear” used, hand holding, hug, relationship, happy crying.

note: ello! thank you so much for requesting this, it’s such a cute idea (i’m also jungwon biased) and i honestly needed the motivation to write something on here. full disclaimer, i don’t really know anything about taekwondo because i have only done ju jitsu, so it might not be very accurate but i tried anyway ㅠㅠ. ily, you’re super cool and i hope you enjoy <3

｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

The ache in your legs only began to hurt more and you didn’t know how much longer you could tolerate the old smell from the mats your now shaky legs stood upon. You had been practicing restlessly for hours alone in the dojang this evening, pushing yourself past your limits, all in preparation for a huge competition coming up sooner than you would have liked it to be. The nerves and pre-comp anxiety you felt only pushed you to train harder, practice more. You had to be prepared and ready for this and you wouldn’t go down easy. What pushed you even harder was your taekwondo partner, who also happened to be your sweet and loving s/o, Yang Jungwon.

Maybe it was corny, but you took pride in impressing him. You desperately wanted to avoid being humiliated in front of him, even if he was the type of person to think you’re amazing no matter what. You had met him when you first joined taekwondo, and were partnered up with him for your first few classes. He had been doing taekwondo for a few years now, and was really, and I mean really good at it, so it was an honor to be the one to work with him back then. He was always the instructor's example for the other students and everyone looked up to him,

Especially you.

He was basically your idol in some sort of way, and you were determined to get to know him. Luckily, he was just as willing to learn about you and you soon became inseparable, spending every day together in and out of the dojang. You had this specific picture of him that you loved so much and you would always carry it around with you, which you would always look at for comfort before any big event or a match. Of course, he had one of you too. He called it his ‘good luck charm’ and whenever you couldn’t be where he was, he would bring the picture like you were there with him.

Usually you would always practice together but you had been insisting on practicing solo for this upcoming competition, even though he was also participating in the competition just in a different section. You didn’t tell him that you had been consistently almost living in the dojang when nobody else was using it for the past few weeks. In fact, Jungwon had started to get insanely worried about you because you just kept canceling on plans and missing out on everything. At first, he thought you might’ve been mad at him and maybe you were giving him the silent treatment- but you didn’t seem mad at all, and you weren’t necessarily ignoring him all-day-everyday either.

As he passed the simple yet so significant building where you would usually train alongside each other, today he noticed a light on where it shouldn’t have been. Only then it occurred to him exactly where you had been disappearing to. If there was anywhere you’d be before a competition, it was the dojang. He felt a little betrayed that you weren’t practicing with him though, and began to worry you might have found a new favorite training partner.

As he approached the entrance of the room, he could hear the smacks of your hits, exhausted breaths, and yells of frustration followed by a light thud. His eyes were both blessed and cursed with the sight of you as he entered. There you were, so beautiful, but so burnt out and sore. You had obviously taken a minute to catch your breath and you were laying on your back staring into the awfully bright ceiling completely lost in thought. He sighed and approached you quietly, quiet enough that you still hadn’t noticed him until he positioned and laid himself next to you.

You briefly turned your head to look at him and then looked back up at the ceiling and stayed silent. You knew he was about to nag the heck out of you for this, but you were just too tired and annoyed to even try fighting it or defend yourself. Jungwon laid there and stared at the ceiling as well, but he wasn’t silent for long.

“Why alone?” he uttered.

You shrugged in response, not sure how to answer yet and still a little surprised to see him unintentionally here right now.

“You really want to do well?” he questioned you rhetorically.

“Why is that even a question, you know I do,” you grumbled.

“Then don’t you want a companion?”

“You don’t need to train, you’re gonna win without any practice, you always do. I mean your name literally has ‘won’ in it,” you regarded with a smart tone.

“Who says you aren’t going to do just the same? You’re probably better than me-” he was cut off by the facial expression plastered on your face when you turned your head to meet his eyes. Your eyebrows were raised at him in a way of saying “be serious”.

“Okay at least let me help you a bit,” he sat up and took your arm to draw circles on it with his finger, “I don’t want you to seriously hurt yourself,” he pouted slightly.

You didn’t plan on it, but you ended up agreeing to let him train with you for a few hours. He was too precious to reject, and that cheesy plea on his face was too convincing. He got changed and returned quickly to begin practice with you.

About an hour in, you hit the ground pretty hard and screamed. Jungwon rushed to you in horror that he might’ve really injured you. But it wasn’t a scream of pain, it was an infuriated scream of failure and exhaustion. Jungwon understood.

“It’s okay, you’re gonna knock it out of the park,” Jungwon took your hand into his own, “I believe in you. You’re such a hard worker, and your determination is unmatched love. That’s why I love you so much, you know that.”

“I’m just afraid I’m not reaching my full potential. What if I don’t do good enough?” You began to fret frantically, doubting yourself left and right.

Jungwon turned your head to look at him and he simply smiled, dimples on full display. He tucked away a stray hair strand in your face and grabbed the little flannel from beside him, dabbing it on your forehead gently, “there is no ‘if’ when it comes to you. You can and will do your best, and at the end of the day you’re always the winner of my heart.”

“That’s so cringey,” you squirmed.

“You make me like that,” he patted your head softly and reached out to pull you up on your feet again, “let’s go get a treat, you deserve it.”

“The building is still open for another hour though-” you began.

“It’s enough practice my dear, you’re going to be swollen and too sore to participate on the day otherwise. Then all that hard work you put in will go to waste,” he tried to convince you.

You nodded and began to tidy up the space, “you're paying though, I left my money at home.”

【☆】★【☆】

The big day had arrived and the knots in your stomach and slight tremble proved it. You were up next, and Jungwon wasn’t there beside you. He was off doing his own match elsewhere. You wished you could’ve watched him, but you had your match at the same time as his and you knew he would win it anyway. He was a taekwondo genius after all.

You sneaked a glance at the picture of him you had and smiled. “I’ll win it for us,” you thought to yourself.

“You’re on now,” the person beside you guided you.

【☆】★【☆】

Just as you had predicted, Jungwon was currently winning his match, but it was getting a bit too close for comfort for him. His rival was actually a challenge and Jungwon almost slipped up a few times.

The thought of you was taking over his mind, which is probably why he wasn’t as focused as he usually was today. It was risky, but he couldn’t erase the thought of you right now. The immense guilt he felt that he couldn’t be there with you right now was suffocating. You had trained until you literally dropped and he was missing it. All he wanted was to be holding you right now and he was so concerned for your health and safety. If someone hurt you, he swears he would go after them.

The thought of you motivated him and he began to pick up his pace again to get this match over and done with. Quickly, Jungwon won the match and cheers were heard from all around the space, but he didn’t celebrate. Not at all. Jungwon rushed off the area and ran like lightning towards where your match was. He pushed through people and almost fell over a few times until he reached the sight of you.

You were losing the lead of your match, but still working hard to win.

Until you heard it.

The enthusiastic cheer from a familiar voice of someone you absolutely adored.

“THATS MY Y/N!”

You caught a glimpse of him to confirm it; Jungwon had basically become something like the flash to support you in your match. He was jumping up and down, yelling your name like an obsessive American soccer mom. It made you giggle to yourself, and almost distracted you.

“FOCUS” is all you could hear from Jungwon now, he was like a coach.

But maybe that’s all you needed. Just, Jungwon.

Because you won your match, even after coming dangerously close to losing. You couldn’t believe it and you stood paralyzed in shock. This win was huge for you because this was a really important and popular competition. Taekwondo students from all around the country had come together for it.

When it was okay to, Jungwon darted over to you and captured you into a tight hug, spinning you around a little, “YOU DID GREAT!”

You had missed his warmth and embrace so badly, and you were so surprised to see him before the end of your match- that you had just won- that you felt tears well up in your eyes.

“Why are you crying my love?” He hugged you tighter.

“You’re drenched in sweat, that’s so gross” you joked.

“Oh I’m so sorry I just-“ Jungwon didn’t get the memo that it was just a joke.

“They’re happy tears,” you interrupted him and cried out, letting them finally fall from your eyes. You tightened your grasp on him, heart full of love. When suddenly, you heard Jungwon begin to sniffle too.

“Wait, why are YOU crying?” You looked at him, the skin around his eyes starting to glow a light red as he wiped your own tears with his thumbs.

“Happy tears, because I’m so proud of you. You’re such an amazing person, and you’re all mine.”

No award could amount to the achievement he felt being able to call you his.

… end …

｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

an: ty for reading! lmk what you guys thought, all notes are appreciated and feedback is encouraged!! i’m sorry if there’s a lot of mistakes- i can’t see what i’m typing very well because of the tumblr bug rn where the text is barely visible ugh. have a great day loves~ ENHA COMEBACK OTW HEHEHEHAR.

[sleepytownez]

can i throw a crazysilly vox theory at you for your opinion? You don’t have to answer if it’s not ur jaaam! ok it goes like this: so val says to vox that alastor owes them more than money, + vox’s hmm erotiiiic obsession with alastor, + alastor being ace, + vox’s nerd vest, (+some personal aroace experience) = could part of vox’s beef with alastor be that vox might’ve been “nice guy” pals with alastor and expected/thought he was owed a relationship? and obviously alastor turned him down. but vox might’ve seen it as being a tease or playing really hard to get or alastor thinking he’s too good for vox or sex. and vox’s reaction to the rejection/denial came with a side dish of uhh conscious or unconscious aphobia (no hate on vox just hes in hell anyhow, and with val it wouldn’t be a huge shocker if he thought that way too, given, everything) and it feeds into his fixation? big leap of a silly theory but it crossed my mind ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Honestly I think it definitely could be. As someone who is also aroace, I've had people that when I said no to them, they immediately thought I was lying or that I was seeing someone else/they hadn't tried hard enough.

It's definitely common for people to do that, that they deserve something.

As for Vox? I honestly think right now it could go either way, we still don't have to much info on how they were back then or even how Vox was back then. However I do agree I think there definitely was some amount of romantic feelings coming from Vox at the the very least.

If we were to go down the rabbit hole here with this line of thought, I think it would probably be accidental? Aphobia from Vox considering when the two died, and I mean it's pretty much canon Alastor doesn't even know what aroace is considering when he died and him not getting Rosies joke.

Vox I'd say in my opinion would be the type to expect a relationship, more than the idea that it's something owed to him (that's more of valentinos thing I bet) I feel like it would probably be Vox just getting ahead of himself, maybe thinking Alastor liked him back a.k.a: he fell in love with alastor so maybe he started interpreting normal stuff the wrong way (ive had this happen irl) , and just couldn't accept that he didn't because he was so up in his head about it?

Vox keeps up with the trends so I would bet he probably knows what aroace is by now but considering that Alastor doesn't know....there's like a very funny possibility that Vox STILL doesn't know that alastor is aroace, which to me is sorta hilarious and pathetic at the same time.

Now IF HE EVER FIGURED IT OUT? I don't think he'd respect it honestly. He's way too obsessed with alastor, again I've seen people be supportive of aroace people until it's someone they liked. Vox seems like that type of guy honestly.

It's a pretty cool theory/idea, It was fun to think about!

[silversdragonemporium]

Post Silver Snow in which Dimitri survived… They are doing their best to reconstruct everything that was destroyed in the war and both are plagued with survivor guilt.

Byleth took Dimitri as her prince consort for political reasons. Faerghus is happy he survived and his blood will go on into the new royal family.

They are now trying to have her first heir but both are falling apart at the seams because they are dumbasses who cannot communicate and are trying to pretend the almost every day baby making is for Fodlan when they are stupidly in love and way too horny about each other to properly function in society.

Also they are actively falling in love with each other even more every day now that they live together and actively participate in projects and ideas for reconstruction that made them see the other with the same feeling of hope, love and wonder of a 4 year old who just discovered his first favorite dinosaur.  

Silver Snow can be hopeful if you squint really hard and lowkey forget how to read….

Yeah - I am still in denial and crying.

Anon I’m so sorry I didn’t respond right away! I wanted to give it a proper response… And then I goldfish-brain’d with it. But I’m back and ready to answer!

Honestly, having him just appear out of NOWHERE in SS is so sad… and unexpected! Sure, we rescue Claude in AM and Edie has the “I wanted to walk with you :(“ scene in VW which is just straight up lifted from SS but let’s not think too much about it but Dimitri is the only one that we got told “he super died” and then we see him. It’s so odd, and so interesting… but really freaking sad.

SO ANYWAY yes, I can see Byleth, new divine monarch of the entire continent, taking up a spouse with a claim over part of the territory. It helps de-ruffle the feathers of the nobility by giving more legitimacy to her line. So on paper, it sounds great!

However, I can see how much they both could struggle with intimacy once married. (Like. Emotional intimacy, they absolutely do not struggle to get to the actual boning.). Pre-Gronder Dimitri’s problems with intimacy are pretty obvious (bucketloads of survivor’s guilt, complicated grief, hallucinations, his maternal figure was emotionally distant, etc.) but Byleth has the combo-wombo of “my class leader was in cahoots with the jerks that killed my dad and I didn’t notice until it was too late”, “I had to kill my class leader with my own hands”, “I had to kill the person that gave me a home because she went berserk-dragon-mode” and “to me, my father died like a year ago”.

I’m not necessarily saying that Byleth would revert back to “Ashen Demon :^|” mode, but I can see how she would at first try to approach the marriage as a purely practical arrangement(which it started as) but then feel guilty that she might’ve kinda-sorta indirectly strong-armed Dimitri into becoming her spouse? Since, she is the savior of Fódlan and that title does carry some clout, especially when compared to Dimitri who has no mayor military accomplishments in the war under his belt apart from almost getting killed om the 3-way battle that was Gronder Field.

On the other hand, when Dimitri is in a bad place mentally we already know that he just shuts everybody else out and only listens to what his ghosts say. So you can imagine what the disembodied chorus of ghosts have to say about the arrangement and how it would feed into the “has no right to happiness” feeling he seems to fall back on (aka the kind of thinking that’d make a dude say “yeah I’ll be happy when I die and my subjects are happy” with no irony at all).

They could start off in “super denial” mode, then having the “oh no I like-like them” and stopping by the “it’s foolish to assume that the other like-likes me” spot before reaching, “I will do anything for their happiness so I’ll support their pet reconstruction projects to make them happy”-ville before finally arriving to “wait they like-like me too!?!!?!” destination.

Thank you so much for the ask, Nonnie! Sorry again for taking so long, but better late than never, eh?

[aita-blorbos]

AITA for not believing in my friend?

If the title sounds bad, it gets worse. Basically, my friend has… issues about self-worth. He has really high ambitions that honestly aren’t achievable, and he’s been rightfully frustrated lately with how our life is going. Not gonna fudge it, it’s been rough, but I wish he’d see we’ve got a decent thing going. That’s the big issue—he wants to save the world, but I’m just glad we’re alive.

This morning he was venting about it and I snapped and told him he was gunning for something that didn’t exist. It’s frustrating for me to see him always so dissatisfied and I really meant what I said. Plus, he’d been a bit of a jerk to me when I was trying to help, so. Anyway, I might’ve been too harsh considering he sulked away, but this isn’t even where I’m the AH. It’s necessary background.

Well, my friend came back right after telling me he’d witnessed an alien abduction! Can you believe that? I mean, most of the aliens we’ve seen are harmless, and the agency says it’s got the rest under control. Still, I believe that my partner believes he saw it, and I wanted to support him, especially since it’s been a while since he acted so motivated, but this whole day went downhill from there.

Basically, I spent the whole day running after my friend as he searched for evidence of this abduction while barely telling me what was going on in his head. He got super fixated on it, but I was still going along with it, and then he started taking bad risks. Putting our jobs at risk when we can barely afford our shitty non-apartment’s rent.

At that point I started trying to convince him to let it go and follow the rules, to which he brought up how I used to be more casual about that kind of thing, much more than he usually is, and I get why he’d say that. I probably sound like a huge hypocrite. We literally met from me breaking rules! But things have changed since then, and right now things are too tense to do anything so risky. But I guess I didn’t tell him that very well, because he realized I didn’t actually believe that there was an abduction and he got really upset. Stormed out and left me there. And then I had to cover for him to our superiors and explain why I was carrying a bag of stolen weapons—not fun, by the way.

Okay, that’s not the point. The point is that because I didn’t believe him, I think he must have been even madder than I realized. Because talking my way out of trouble? That’s the last thing I remember before waking up somewhere else. When I went home, he was gone and a lot of our stuff was missing. I think he erased my memory and left. This is bad. I can’t understate how bad this is. I called him like ten times and he didn’t answer. He’s going to go off and get himself killed and I’ll never see him again. All because I couldn’t fucking pretend to believe him. I know how he gets about this kind of thing! I know how insecure he is about people trusting his abilities! And I do trust him, I really do, so even if I don’t technically believe he saw the abduction, I coulda gone along with it! At least then he would have brought me with him. Sure, we’d lose our jobs and be in danger, but at least then I could try and protect him!

I don’t know why I’m making this when clearly I’ve ruined both our lives and probably ended his. I don’t think he has an account here, but man, if you’re somehow reading this… I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please come back. We can do this together, all right? I’m sorry I was scared. I just can’t lose you. Not this time.

[the-remarkable-redway-simp]

1000 words of simping over Redway? I am all ears. (Please spend some of those words on his hair? Pretty Please?)

First off: anon, ILY

Secondly: I DM'd the author to find out their preferred method of citation and they said APA so, behold, my masterpiece:

Simping for Redway: an essay of slightly less than 1000 words

E.M. Anderson, the writer of THE REMARKABLE RETIREMENT OF EDNA FISHER alleges that Redway, the villain of said novel, is not meant to be simped for. I dispute that and allege that while it may not have been the author's intention, the text supports that he is simpable. In this essay I will provide cited sources from the text of the book that will prove he is indeed simpable.

(Goes without saying, now, but SPOILERS FOR THE REMARKABLE RETIREMENT OF EDNA FISHER BELOW, PROCEED WITH CAUTION)

First, anon asked for me to go on about his hair, so I will. I’ll dedicate this paragraph to appearance in general, actually, since E.M. also stubbornly insists they didn’t intend for him to be attractive. However, I would contend that anyone who is described as having “reddish hair, shot through with silver… pulled into a short ponytail.” (Anderson, p. 294) is, objectively speaking, at least a little bit attractive. Now, I have to admit I have a liking for red hair, to the point where I spent an inadvisable amount of money on dyeing my hair red between the years of 2015 and 2017, to the point where my nickname those years was, in fact, Red. Because apparently the most defining aspect of my personality was my hair. Now the most defining aspect of my personality might be my simping for Redway, to the point where I’m spending my Sunday night writing an essay about simping for Redway. Maybe I should’ve just dyed my hair again, might’ve been a smarter choice, but anyway, to carry on: while I will admit that having a weakness for red hair prejudices me toward simping for him, which is why I will carry on with further evidence of why Redway is lowkey hot. In the very first scene he’s seen in, he is described as having “blue eyes that were unfairly piercing” (Anderson, p. 37). The author even goes as far as to say “humans weren’t supposed to have such eyes” (Anderson, p. 37). It is therefore my contention that it is entirely understandable that Redway is objectively good-looking.

However, lest I be accused of being shallow, I will move into my real reason for simping: this man is incredibly secretly soft. I would allege that E.M. Anderson is incapable of writing a character who isn’t, on some level, incredibly secretly soft, but since I don’t have time for a rundown of every character in every published and unpublished work they’ve written, I’ll focus on Redway. For example, he raised his favourite dragon, Copernicus, from an egg, and no matter how cranky he gets he has a soft spot for that dragon, even allowing him to lay with “his massive head in Red's lap” (Anderson, p. 143). What’s cuter and more simpable than someone who loves animals? I, for one, am a cat person, and dragons in this book are basically massive cats. Who hasn’t had their cat lay on their lap and refuse to move regardless of what you want, truly.

Now, you may be asking, what else is so cute about this guy besides the dragon thing? Maybe you hate animals and feel like he’d be more simpable if he did too (in which case, are you okay?). Well, he’s also an anxious babygirl who needs snuggles to sleep; after a nightmare, while sharing a bed with another character (Shira, who is honestly worthy of her own essay), he “curled around her athletic form, burying his face in her curls” (Anderson, p. 140). I mean, come on, he’s so sad and anxious! And that’s not even going into the deep spoiler territory of why he’s so anxious, although I will say that ties back into how he loves dragons, and honestly if E.M. didn’t intend for people to simp for him they really shouldn’t have given him such a sad backstory, so that’s on them, really.

He's also useful! How many men do you know who help with chores, but Red can not only carve “rooms and hallways into (the mountain) by magic” (Anderson, p. 40), he also peels potatoes with magic. He might be a villain, but hey, at least he doesn’t do the whole weaponized incompetence thing to make women do all the work for him. 

There is a lot more I could say, but I already spoiler-warning-ed once, and anything more I can say would go into ruining-the-ending territory, which I don’t feel comfortable doing until the book is out for at least a year because that ending really hits you right in the feels if you don’t see it coming. 

To conclude, I allege based on both appearance and pathetic anxiety levels, Redway is objectively simpable and that should be accepted by more people.

Works Cited

Anderson, E.M. (2023). The Remarkable Retirement of Edna Fisher. Hansen House. Kindle Edition.