#it's sad and beyond terrifying

[grey-has-rusted]

Moving states isn't enough, I have to get out of this country entirely.

[sweetlullabyebye]

Rewatching Strangers from Hell as some sort of weird comedy honestly is very healing, and Moonjo being a clown every ten minutes helps a lot

In the video: Moonjo being unserious for more than a minute

[freebooter4ever]

dear mom, one day ill be living in a big old city and all youll ever be is mean :)

[hella1975]

choked up in my room rn bc i was sat in the car with my mum completely lost in thought and she out of nowhere went 'are you okay?' and i was like 'yeah? why?' bc i was totally fine i was literally just thinking and she let it go and then five entire minutes later she goes 'are you sure? have i done something?' and she sounded so genuinely anxious and i could tell she'd been thinking about it the entire 5 minutes while id been completely oblivious and i spent so many years as a child letting everything bottle up until it all burst out in a messy and ugly breakdown that took her down with me and despite that she never hated me she only ever blamed herself for not seeing the signs and she's never been able to see my signs because i keep everything to myself and it terrifies her that she might miss something and she handles things poorly when she's scared and she gets too angry but fundamentally she's trying her absolute hardest to be a good mother and it wasn't always enough and i know i have to hold her at least partially accountable but also she's my mum and im her daughter and she always just wants to know if im okay and most of the time im not and somehow that feels like ive betrayed her

[fortune-maiden]

I am so torn on Fire Emblem Engage

some aspects of it look really cool but it just doesn’t feel like the Fire Emblem series I fell in love with

[lilgynt]

i was talking to my mom about my job sucking and she kept pushing like well every job sucks. and kept pushing like girl if it all sucks the same why are you leaving urs

[bradshawswife]

i’m the stupidest person for deep diving into this idaho murders case at 10:30pm….

[navree]

cuz @satiinekryze has gotten me back on this train, to all the history hoes still following me, time to remind you that richard likely developed his scoliosis (you know, the highly painful and deeply scary disease he had no way of knowing was coming his way, how to deal with it, or if he should even talk to anyone about it) during his time at middleham and during the formative years of his friendship with anne neville :) :) :) :) :) just food for thought :) :) :) :) :) :)

[lesbiten]

one of my favorite doctor who things is when companions see the Really Really bad side of the doctor (ten in the runaway bride, twelve in hell bent) and i just think that yaz and dan deserve to see thirteen in a similar terrible light

[yanderenightmare]

TW: nsfw, noncon, toxic boyfriend

gn reader

Thinking abut the type of boyfriend who just shows up uninvited. At your doorstep, ringing your doorbell with dumb flowers in his hands and a dumb smile on his face. And yeah, it was charming the first couple of times… but you broke up with him over a month ago, and he still won’t leave you alone.

He’s never been one to listen, which is one of the reasons you had to break up with him in the first place. Another reason is his tendency to blatantly disregard how terrified he makes you feel.

The bouquet is left on the floor, flower petals trambled into sad, broken pieces. 

The worst part is that he knows it’s wrong—so very wrong—and still, he has the audacity to coo and hush you when he pins you to your bed. “Please don’t cry, please—I’m not gonna hurt you,” 

He’s on the verge of tears himself. In fact, he looks even worse off than you, tortured while listening to beg him to stop—crying, “Puh-please—please don’t do this, please—get off me!” 

But it’s just so unfair—he wants you back so badly. He never agreed to let you go in the first place. It’s so unfair of you. You loved him once—you can’t just change your mind. You belong to him—you told him as much when you were together. You’re not allowed to take it back. Vows are binding.

“Please don’t cry—I promise, I’m not gonna hurt you—I would never—I love you, I love you so much, I can’t stop.” He keeps vowing, licking your face and sucking your cheeks free of salt, lapping it up as you weep.

Beyond desperate and heaving for breath, you still use all your strength trying to tug your wrists loose from the strong fist keeping them pinned—but to no avail. Only left choking on your cries while feeling his other hand wander about between your trembling thighs.

“You said you were mine…”

“No, please—please don’t, please!”

But he doesn’t listen. 

He’s stuck between hating you for not loving him back and hating himself for not being able to let you go. He’s always been so selfish, but he just can’t seem to help himself. 

BNHA – Deku, Shoto, Denki, Kirishima, Hawks, Mirio

JJK – Gojo, Yuji

HQ – Kuro, Bokuto, Miya twins

DS – Zenitsu

[phyronia]

something i appreciate very much about baldur's gate 3 is the way it doesn't try to sand down its characters edges to make them fit into their roles as victims of their past better. it doesn't make them soft and sad and scared at the expense of their other, sometimes less palatable traits. even though the things people have done to them have molded them, they're still full people beyond that, warts and all.

karlach, for example, was an unwilling soldier for ten years. but she still loves fighting. smashing heads is often her first answer to any problem, because it's what she knows, and she's not ashamed of that. she's good at killing, and she's proud of it. ask her about killing devils! she gets so into the details that she forgets what you were even talking about.

astarion's been through two hundred years of hell and barely even knows who he is any more, and he's so terrified of losing his freedom that he's willing to hurt anyone (including himself) to try to protect it, but he's also just genuinely a huge bitch. not even in a 'pushing people away so they can't get close' way, he's just kind of a dick! and that's wonderful.

and gale's the last one i'll talk about for now because this is getting long. he was groomed by the literal goddess of magic and cast out for trying to prove himself to her by helping her, left to slowly and painfully die and endanger all those around him, then told to kill himself for redemption in her eyes, and he was down enough on himself to believe this was fair! but also! he is hubristic and arrogant and absolutely thinks that yeah 'rip to everyone else who reached too far for godhood and doomed themselves and others in the process but i'm different'. he's a disaster.

i'm just go glad larian gave us these characters that aren't just poor little snookumses. they have the range

[brainwormcity]

I've seen people remark on how awkward the 1967 scene is and that is so frustrating because, for me, it is one of the most emotionally resonant flashbacks in the entire series. It is so multifaceted and ripe with implication and that assertion is baffling. As though just because this conversation appears to be hard for them, it must mean that there has to be some sense of weirdness or awkwardness between them?

This scene feeds heavily into my theory that 1941 ended in some sort of aborted romantic moment between the two, most likely initiated by Crowley. Aziraphale can barely stand to look at Crowley because the very first moment he looks him in the face, he can't stop himself from giving him this hooded eyes, barely contained look of longing.

The next thing we see is Aziraphale immediately launching into a statement about his fear for Crowley's existence that is as brutally sincere as it is heartrending. His eyes are wide, his voice is heavy with emotion, and it's clear that he is terrified beyond belief to lose Crowley. Even as he acquiesces and gives him the holy water, you can see that he wants to take it back and deny him it all over again.

Then, of course, Crowley asks if he can give him a lift, which is definitely something that they both know is a totally different question than what lies on the surface, given that they're mere feet from the bookshop and at first Crowley frowns so deeply that it's almost cartoonish but a moment after Aziraphale turns him down you get this glimpse of very real sadness:

Aziraphale sees it for what it is and in an attempt to comfort him, without being able to do what currently seems impossible to him, shares a fanciful but resigned fantasy about spending time together unbothered and unrestrained, all to the tune of these tight little, loving smiles:

When he asks again, you can just see Crowley's desperation for Aziraphale not to go. It's hard to say how long they'd been apart, but it's safe to say that for them, that previous interaction likely is very fresh in their minds.

Aziraphale has always been more fearful than Crowley when it comes to their feelings for each other. You could even potentially look at the holy water as a metaphor for their relationship. In his expressions of concern about The Arrangement, Aziraphale has always been remarking on how Crowley could be destroyed, similarly to his words here. So when he's telling him, "You go too fast for me, Crowley," what he's really saying is, "I'm terribly afraid and I'm not ready to take that step if it means that I could lose you." And it's plain to see by the wistful look on his face that it pains him greatly to say it:

The scene so quickly cuts to Crowley looking intensely at the holy water after Aziraphale has left the car (as if trying to convince you that that was the real point of the scene) that it's easy to miss this devastated expression on Crowley's face:

There's no look of perceived rejection on his face. Just a somber look of resignation. There are so many barriers in front of them, and I think that Crowley was willing to risk it but understood that Aziraphale wasn't ready to.

This is the most honest and laid bare we ever see these two be when it comes to their emotions. There's so much being said without being said and even their actual words (i.e. Crowley remembering exactly the amount of time when the 'fraternizing' conversation happened) are so full of emotion that it might even be a bit hard for some people to watch.

It's not awkward. It's just that the scene is just so incredibly earnest and heavy with coded language that it's easy to be swept up by the fact that the two aren't engaged in their typical banter and bickering. What we truly have here is an incredibly difficult and loving conversation between two people who are stuck in a seemingly impossible situation.

[twstedstoryshop]

FINALLY, I return properly. Kind of. Reason I've been away for so long was because of insane convention season and also had this bad boy in the works. This is one of two commissions done for a friend. Hope you all can enjoy yourselves for the crumbs I produce. -SK

CONTENT WARNING: Blood, violence, depressed s/o, and mentions of toxic past relationships.

Your New Boyfriends Runs Into Your Ex

While Rook Hunt was one of many to find camaraderie in a den of villains, that didn’t mean chivalry was dead to him. Certainly not him.

Under his keen gaze, he knew that when a certain topic was broached, you would shy away instantly. Paled knuckles, a panicked gaze, and your bottom lip near to splitting open by how badly you chewed down.

It was like he was seeing a rabbit or deer caught in a trap, frantic with no escape. Though his heart had been trained to a perfect steel and not feel for his quarry, when he sees that look in your eyes, all defenses fall away.

The topic? Well, the worries of what the future held for you. Moreso in far off days. Would you continue to have your friends by your side? Would someone ever cherish you? Have a deeper connection?

For Rook, it was a no-brainer because of course! Who else was more worthy of adoration and praise than his dear petite grâce? As he would declare this in all his usual grandeur, a small smile would form on your lips, but that happiness never reached your eyes.

Doubt clouded that sweet gaze of yours. In its own way, seeing such clear eyes be veiled by sadness was heartachingly beautiful. Yet it was a beautiful scene Rook couldn’t bear to behold for too long.

When it came to keeping track of you, Rook was extra considerate. If one can call it that… In his mind, he kept careful track of those you interacted with. He watched your mannerisms, your dialogue, anything amiss he would file it away. But for the longest time, it didn’t seem like an outside force was troubling you.

For a moment, Rook considered that whatever wounded your heart was a scar from a distant past he had yet to uncover. What he didn’t expect was said wound abruptly appearing on a normal day.

From a vantage point, perhaps from a second story window or among the trees that dotted the campus, Rook had caught sight of you stone-still on your walk. Before you, an NRC student he couldn’t recall. He didn’t really have time to register the man when Rook had just attention all on you.

Your wide, hollow eyes. Your chest rising and falling rapidly. How you froze so perfectly under the gaze of this man. It was a scene Rook was all too familiar with. Prey terrified beyond its own mind to run, to hide, or even fight.

Your rational mind couldn’t comprehend what your ex was even saying to you as panic held you in its overbearing clutch. The world grew dizzying and just when you felt like your heart would give out, right then and there, a broad arm wrapped around your shoulders.

“Ah, there you are, ma petite grâce. I was looking all over for you. You made me a bit worried, you know!”

It was hard to look up at him as Rook’s hat was tipped just enough for the shadows to mask his features. But your ex needed only one glance for the role of prey to be forced on him. Green eyes with a gaze so sharp, so precise like a notched arrow perfectly aligned to fire, bored right into him.

It didn’t take much time before the ex backpedaled away with his tail between his legs, now only leaving you with Rook.

Rook would face you, gripping your forearms firmly. His expression, soft though. He called out for you, trying his best to snap you from your daze. When you finally realized it was him now before you, your body moved on its own before you could think. A heaviness made you fall against his chest. You shivered, maybe tears and sobs escaping you.

Rook held you so close against him. Like he was cradling a sculpture of the most delicate porcelain. As if one scratch or knock would crumble you into fine dust.

A single hand held the back of your head protectively, letting you weep as much as you wanted against his shirt. His chin nestled along your hair. You would be so blissfully unaware of Rook’s gaze. A complicated stare into space as his mind swam with many thoughts.

Rook always found beauty in the oddest of places. Yet for the first time, there was something Rook found utterly detestable. A vile image that was a blot in his picturesque vision and that was your ex, the source of your pain. But from that ugliness, he did find a most exquisite sensation. A drive to hunt. An unyielding need to protect you.

While he couldn’t spring into action earlier, his quarry was marked. A hunter is patient and he can wait as long as he needs to for one slip-up, one more attempt to dare get near you, and Rook would be sure to let loose a vicious arrow.

There is a tension between you and Floyd on certain days. While most times, it would be all fun and games, just him and his little Shrimpy. But Floyd wasn’t blind to the weight you carried.

It would irritate him on a dime when you obviously had thoughts clouding your mind. So much so that you fidget anxiously or not even pay attention to him. His sharp voice would call over the din of thoughts and you’d see the eel practically inches away from your face.

His dual colored eyes glared at you and a slight frown pulled at his lips. “Geez, what the hell is goin’ on with you!?” He doesn’t mean to be so crass, but to see his Shrimpy unsettled, it frustrated him. 

Moreso that he can’t exactly pinpoint what was going on with you, that he can’t just squeeze it to a pulp and boom, no more problems!

He knew you had your walls and such walls took time to lower to let him in. Floyd had the patience as a waiting moray eel, but if he had the proactiveness to actually act upon his patience? That’s a whole other story. When it came to you, he just wanted to see you happy and unbothered. All reasoning would flutter out the window.

It may or may not have taken a lot of squeezing and thinly veiled threats to your friends for them to fess up information you couldn’t bear to unload on Floyd. A common name would be passed around, an ex from your past. Just the thought that someone else had their hands on you nearly made Floyd break bones if not for the pitiful yelps of your friends to release them in time.

Questions whirled in that skull of his. Why have you never brought this up to him? What did this ex do to you that made you shy away from him? Where was this scumbag now? All of these worries would bleed into his daily life and if it weren’t for Jade and Azul to straighten him out, he would have been throwing tantrums left and right.

It wasn’t until one day that all his frustrations would come to a boiling point into a final, satisfying crescendo. At least for him.

Work was to be done at Mostro Lounge. Floyd was on duty to be a waiter along with yourself. Both of you have opted to be in an awkward silence in your relationship and it was evident by how you both avoided one another, unsure of how to really talk about your issues.

Floyd had taken an order from a particular student, one he could easily sniff out as a rude bastard by his mannerisms and his tones. But if Floyd’s temper got the better of him, he’d never hear the end of it from Azul. He would hand off the order to you to at least serve drinks.

Everything seemed normal until suddenly a glass shattered. All eyes shifted to you who shivered in place. The tray rattled in your hands and below you a cascade of broken glass.

“Y-you…” “The fuck…? What the hell are you doing here!? And look at what you did to my drink! You’re still incompetent as ever, tch!”

You wanted to cry, scream, run away. You felt so ashamed, being treated like garbage again from an ex you swore you’d never let walk all over you again. But at the height of stress, you couldn’t bring yourself to stand up for yourself. Pathetic, absolutely pathetic…

That is until a sing-song, nonchalant voice slid right up behind you. “Ahhhh, what a shame. I apologize on the behalf of our lil waiter here. They’re just nervous is all. Here~ Why don’t I make it up to ya? I can serve ya a drink right here, right now. On the house~” “Finally, some decent fucking service…”

You looked up at Floyd and saw that dangerous glint in his eyes. How his pupils honed on the poor fool as his smile widened so tightly across his face. He reached for a spare glass that was left on the table, presented it with a flourish to your ex, and coyly said, “Readyyyy~? Watch carefully.”

Then, his hand flew so quick to grab a clump of your ex’s hair and slammed it squarely on the glass. The crunch of glass, your scream, and the screech of chairs being pushed back as patrons jumped.

“GYAHAHA, YOU LIKE IT!? IT’S MOSTRO LOUNGE’S OWN PERSONAL RED. Ahhhh, but the red comin’ from you? Pfft, it ain’t worth the shit under my shoe…” Your ex could barely register what was even being said to him from the glass embedded in his face and blood gushing from his nose and broken lips.

Hands covered your mouth in terror as you could barely register what was happening. From panicked students screaming to Azul and Jade holding Floyd back from beating the poor ex to a pulp. All you could really register was the horrifying satisfaction deep in your chest, seeing the one who hurt you so much battered under the hand of someone who protected you…

Leona has his own ways of caring but most of the time, if you cannot read between the lines, it may come off as uncaring.

He does care, but don’t expect a coddling man rushing to be your knight when you are feeling sorry for yourself. The last thing he wants to do is pity you as he knows all too well the humiliation of being pitied.

Instead he observes, he watches, he’s keen to everything you do that isn’t a part of your daily life. In sly ways, he tries to break your moments of dissociating. He calls your name sharply to snap you out of your funk and gives you a menial task.

Telling you to maybe preen his mane, join Ruggie on an errand, what have you. It’s better to keep yourself occupied than whatever is plaguing your mindscape.

Sometimes, he will even abruptly lean against you, his weight toppling the both of you over. Even if you protest under him, he will insist he’s really tired and just wants something warm beside him to help him sleep. In truth, it’s just another way to stop your self-deprecating thoughts.

Though he will speak up in annoyance if your depressed thoughts start to bleed into your relationship. It will sting, but he means well. He tells you gruffly that he’s not in the mood to lay next to baggage. He wants only his partner, dammit.

You may argue, you may not, it depends on how you react but at the end of it, one way or another, you’re going to have to face him and this problem that hangs over you.

If you take time before approaching him or spill everything in one go, he will wait patiently and listen. But cowardice by running away he won’t accept and would want answers promptly.

One way or another, the truth has to come from you and you explain the thoughts that coil around you like a petulant serpent. A name and face that digs into your chest horribly. Your ex and the ways he has hurt you in many ways.

Leona listens stoically, letting you share your story before acknowledging and commending the strength it took for you to finally admit this. He knows all too well the pains of the past, he shares in your frustrations. But the past stays in the past for a reason.

Now it’s you and him now. You define yourselves here in the present. If anyone says otherwise? Well, he’d like to see them try.

Who would have known that such a time would come so soon when one day, someone had the gall to start harassing you right in the Savanaclaw dorm.

That same face that always lingered around you like a ghost was here right now in the flesh, taunting you at the edges of the Spelldrive field. Your ex sneered at you, wondering what the hell you were doing around here during his practice hours. Had the nerve to accuse you of stalking him despite your split.

Your anger boiled your blood, your face flushed. Your nerves alighted with a burning fury that made the dorm’s dry heat pale in comparison. But your body did not respond to you. Your throat froze despite wanting to curse and yell out at your ex.

What neither you expected though while your mouth gasped for something, anything to throw at this scumbag, was a lion’s roar peeling across the field. A shadow loomed over your ex and both of you looked up to a silhouette blocking the sun and a pair of piercing green eyes.

Astride his broom, Leona stared squarely at the ex. “For a minute, I thought I heard annoying squawks from a mangy vulture, but now I just see a whelp. Having the nerve to approach my partner…”

Without missing a beat, Leona lowered himself to the ground and sauntered right over to your ex. Your ex tried to stand his ground but anyone could tell he was practically shaking in his spot.

“So.... What were you two talking about?” It was such a simple question. So trivial. But the way Leona spoke each word, it was like a pair of hungry jaws were ready to snap behind every syllable. He dared for your ex to slip up.

“N-nothing… Nothing at all… I was l-leaving…” “Hooo?” Leona’s tail whipped behind him in amusement. “So you just waltzed up to my partner and gawked at them? Nothing left your useless, flapping gums? I can hardly believe that.”

Leona’s knuckles cracked as he flexed his hand and for a quick second, you swore you saw wind and dust particles gather between his finger tips. The air felt still and you heard your ex gulp audibly from a dry throat. Then, a sudden calmness.

“But if you were just about to leave, then by all means, scurry along. I hate people wasting my time.”

To which your ex immediately did, turning on his heel, so close to make a run for it. Then, like a giant paw slamming atop a helpless mouse, Leona’s hand roughly grabbed his shoulder and stopped him.

“A warning since I’m feeling so generous today… Don’t ever let me catch you near them again. Ya hear me? Or else, I’ll make you a nice addition to the scenery. We could always add more sand and bones.” Leona cracked a toothy smirk with darkness in his eyes. His fangs glinted in the sun and it was then you truly realized the fierce lion you had taken in as your boyfriend.

[hiraethwrote]

just come home - satoru gojo

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[satoru gojo - f!reader] ✧ summary: you've prepared a nice dinner for the two of you to have a nice date night, but when he never shows up, you've had enough. ✧ cw: angst, cursing, breaking stuff, betrayal, Satoru not being the best boyfriend, mention of insecurities, no use of y/n, somewhat proofread ✧ word count: 2.7k

part 1 - part 2 - part 3

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For weeks and weeks, you had expressed a desire for the two of you to have a date night but there was always a reason for why he didn’t have the time; I’ve got a mission. Shoko needed my help. I already promised Suguru I would go. Not tonight darling, I’m too tired. It broke your heart a little every time, but you knew the kind of responsibility that rested on his shoulders. You did not have the conscience to start complaining, even though you so desperately wanted to.

However, whatever he had planned this time fell through and he finally had an evening available. You had jumped at the opportunity and made a casual request while you were doing the dishes. “How about I make us a nice dinner instead? Make an evening out of it?” You'd been somewhat nervous when you’d made the request, scared he’d have some other reason not to be able to attend. But when you’d turned to look at him with hopeful eyes, you’d been met by his kind ones and a gentle smirk on his lips. Carefully, he had grabbed your chin between his fingers and pulled you closer. “I’d love to, darling,” he answered genuinely and placed a soft kiss on your forehead. Your stomach had instantly been filled with familiar butterflies.

So when the day arrived, the two of you had arranged for you to have dinner ready when he got home at seven and your timing was impeccable as you placed the finishing touches on the dinner five minutes before Satoru was supposed to walk through the door. Giddy with excitement, you lit the two candles you had placed on the table and sat down in your seat. Your excitement quickly turned into worry when fifteen minutes passed and there was still no sign of him. It didn’t have to mean anything, he wasn’t exactly known for being on time. It wasn’t until an hour had passed you felt the sadness and disappointment take over you. Then another hour passed, and another, and another. For nearly four hours you sat on the dining chair, staring at the door, waiting for your boyfriend to come home.

“Fuck it,” you whispered to yourself as you finally stood up, throwing your napkin on the table. The candles you’d lit had nearly burned down, and the untouched meal you’d prepared had turned cold long ago. As you noticed the apartment had turned dark, you felt the sadness wash over you and the tears started to well up in your eyes. Quickly you blew out the candles and made your way straight to bed. You wrapped yourself in your blanket and tried to blink away the tears, taking one last look at your phone to see if you’d missed a text or a call. Nothing.

It had always pained you when he hadn’t been able to make time for one evening for just the two of you, but you never found it in yourself to blame him. He was the Satoru Gojo after all. It was more than understandable that he was needed and wanted at all places all the time. However, somewhere inside, you felt as if he could have been able to take one night off. But you would never argue with him on the matter because, truthfully, you were beyond terrified he would toss you aside the second someone better came along. You felt so extremely lucky to be able to call Satoru your boyfriend, but there was no hiding the fact he could have anyone he wanted, but he had you. Satoru wasn’t just the most powerful being in the universe, but he was also so extremely gorgeous and had enough charisma for all of Tokyo.

But this was it. You couldn’t do it anymore. This was the moment you realised you wanted someone who would undoubtedly match your devotion. You’d held onto the hope of that person being Satoru for too long, but you’d made enough excuses for him now.

With this thought in mind, your heart ached and the tears fell quietly against your pillow, you eventually fell into a calm sleep.

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You woke up with a small jolt at the sound of the front door being close shut. The clock on your nightstand showed 01:37, nearly seven hours after he was supposed to be home. You heard his footsteps come closer and closer, until you felt him lay down in the bed beside you and snake his arm around your waist. When you felt him place a soft kiss on your temple, the anger began to fill your body. “You awake?” He spoke softly, his voice slightly muffled against your hair.

Unbelievable. Fuelled by anger and frustration, you wiggled out of his grip and immediately exited the bedroom, desperate to find somewhere to put all your emotions. Looking over at the failed dinner, you decided to start cleaning it up, reminded again it had all gone to waste. Not even two minutes after you’d left him in the bed, he was standing in the doorway behind you.

“Babe, are you okay?” The audacity of his question made you drop the plates in the sink, causing a ruckus before turning around to face him, resting a hand on your hip.

“Does it seem to you that I’m okay?” Your voice was already quivering from all the emotions you were feeling, but you were determined to not break just yet.

Satoru was taken aback by the intense tone of your voice and couldn’t remember you ever talking to him this way. Carefully he began to approach you, but the look you gave him made him stop in his tracks instantly, staying put by the doorway. “Look, I’m really sorry about tonight.” His voice wasn’t disingenuous, but there was a simplicity in it that made you scoff.

“If that’s what you’re starting with, you can save it.” He felt himself flinch just the slightest at your voice and he began to feel worried what might come out of your mouth next.

“I was hanging with Suguru and Shoko. Shoko had to show us something and I couldn’t just leave. But it’s just dinner, we can do it another night.” His tone showed you he wasn’t by any means mocking the situation, but he was more interested in explaining why he didn’t show up than show consideration.

“Just dinner?” He instantly knew what he had said was a mistake. “Is it just dinner that I spent hours preparing this for us? Is it just dinner that this was supposed to be our first date in nearly a year? Is it just dinner that you’re seven hours late and couldn’t even bother to let me know you weren’t coming home?”

And awkward silence filled the room where you just stood there looking at each other. Satoru couldn’t keep his eyes off you, who had now crossed your arms over your rapidly heaving chest. He searched his mind to find the right words to say, but just felt his mouth run dry. He now understood how much he had screwed up, even though he himself had genuinely only thought of the evening as “just dinner”.

“What, no snarky comment? No funny comeback?” You spoke, waiting impatiently for him to open his mouth. “Fucking say something!” You caught him off guard when you grabbed one of the wineglasses you had served along with dinner and hurled it in his direction, hitting the wall beside his head and shattering on impact. “You always know exactly what to say and now it the time you finally decide to shut up?”

“I’m sorry,” he forced out, his voice slightly cracking. You just looked at him, taking in the sight of your boyfriend who now looked so unlike himself. Normally, he stood so tall and proud, his smile never faltering. But now, the person staring back at you, was a fragile human being who didn’t know up from down. You felt your anger begin to turn back into sadness again at the sight of him and it took every ounce of willpower not to surrender yourself to him.

“Don’t be sorry, Satoru! Be better! Be my boyfriend!” As your emotions had shifted, so had your tone. There was no anger anymore, just a desperate plead. It wasn’t just in your voice one could tell how upset you were, it was also evident on your entire body. Satoru had noticed how your frame had turned less hostile towards him and saw his opportunity to approach you. When he wasn’t met with yet another look that could kill, he kept going until he was standing in front of you.

“I’ll make it up to you, I promise. We can have the dinner date tomorrow, I’ll stand for the cooking,” he spoke softly, carefully sliding his hands along your upper arms.

“This isn’t about the dinner,” you burst out, shaking away his hands and stepping away again. “It’s so much bigger than that. Can’t you see that?”

He could hear it in your voice you were choking back the sobs that were harbouring in your throat. Throughout your two year relationship, he had never seen you this upset before. And if he had, he had never been the reason for your sorrow. Just the idea of being the cause for your turmoil broke his heart, and he could feel his own tears fighting their way to the corner of his eyes.

“Satoru, I deserve to be with someone who is dying to be with me as much as I am dying to be with you.” He saw the first tear fall down your face. “I don’t want to be in a relationship where I give everything of myself, and not receive the same in return.”

In the middle of your speech, you found yourself reminiscing of how he used to be in the relationship. In the beginning, he worshipped the ground you walked on. He couldn’t keep his hands off of you, and his friends grew tired of how he wasn’t able to shut up about you. There was no doubt that you were his world, and he made it known to every person he came across that you were. You couldn’t recall when it had changed. Maybe it had happened gradually, making it harder to pick up on.

“When did you stop caring for me?” Your voice finally cracked, and a small sob escaped you. He instantly felt his shoulders fall, and his mouth slightly agape in shock.

The answer to your question was easy; never. He remembered being captivated by you the very first moment he laid his eyes on you and he knew he had to get to know you. It didn’t take long until he knew he wanted to be with you, forever if he could. There wasn’t a single thing about you he didn’t love with his entire being. He loved how your nose scrunched when you laughed, and how you subconsciously hummed to yourself while you were making dinner, how you took the quickest showers ever but still ended up spending two hours in the bathroom doing basically nothing. He also admired how kind and understanding you were, always sacrificing your own needs and desires for others. If anything, he only cared for you more and more as time went on.

But now he was looking at you, seeing your shoulders bounce with every sob and sniffle. Even with your makeup smudged, hair messy from sleep and tear stains running down your cheeks, you were beautiful. You were easiest the most beautiful girl he’d ever had the privilege of laying his eyes on. All he wanted was to pull you into his arms and comfort you, promising everything was going to work out. He was desperate to feel your body against his, but he knew you wouldn’t allow it.

“Just tell me what I have to do and I’ll do it. I’ll fix it.” Now he was the one pleading, making it even harder for you to not give in and let it all slide.

“You can’t,” you whispered. He felt his breath begin to quicken and he sensed where this was going. “Satoru-” he closed his eyes at the sound of his name leaving your lips so softly.

“Please,” he whispered back before opening his eyes again to meet your gaze.

“I have given you absolutely all that I have to offer, and it still doesn’t seem to be enough. There’s not a single living creature on this planet who has seen all the sides of me that I have showed you. I have given you my mind, my heart, my soul, my body-” you were cut off by one of your sobs. “And you can’t even make it home to dinner.” As the severity of the situation had set in, Satoru had also begun to cry.

He knew it was unfair of him, but he couldn’t hold back any longer. He walked right up to you and grabbed your face gently with both his hands and forced you to look at him. He stared into your wet eyes and felt your body shake from crying. “Please don’t do this,” he rushed to say, never having uttered a more desperate plead in his life. His heart skipped a beat when he felt your hands graciously wrap around his wrists, reminding him it was the first time that evening you had touched him. As a response, he instinctively leaned forward to rest his forehead against yours.

“I’m not waiting around for you to find a better option and leave me-“

“That won’t happen!” Satoru interrupted you. “I promise, just please, please, please don’t do this.” He felt you pull away from his forehead as you crouched away. At the same time you reluctantly removed his hands from your face. Every inch of his body wanted to fight against it, and never have his hands leave your face ever again. He knew he had messed it up for real this time. Once you let go of his wrists, he’d lose the one girl he had truly loved.

“I want it so bad to be you. But I can’t continue to ruin myself for you, Satoru.” The silence hit you, and it was as if you were both too scared to say another word. It was only Satoru’s quiet sniffles that filled the room.

It was a bittersweet sensation to have him stand so close to you, but having such a sad scenario play out. You still had a loose grip on his wrists, knowing you had to let go of them sooner or later. But you just didn’t want to. It felt as if as long as you stayed quiet, you could stay in this form of limbo where you didn’t have to face what was to come. Some part of you wished you could accept living this way, because you wanted nothing more than to have Satoru in your life. But you knew it wasn’t fair to yourself to keep going like this.

“I’m going to stay with a friend tonight,” You broke the silence, causing Satoru to start crying again. Hesitantly, you finally let go of his wrists and took a small step back, letting you get a better look at him. The intensity in his cerulean eyes had only been amplified by his tears. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you continued to speak. “I’ll have someone pick up my stuff sometime this week.”

Satoru continued to plead, beg and cry for you not to leave. You had to actively block him out to be able to leave the apartment. As you made you way to the door, he followed you close behind, the tears falling like waterfalls.

“I’m sorry,” you said, barely a whisper as you opened the door and left him. The second the door closed, it felt as if you were sucked into a vacuum without a single sound to be heard. It was only disturbed when you heard a loud smash come from inside the apartment, bringing you back to reality before you ran down the stairs and left.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

a/n: sooo i am a sucker for angst. its definitly the genre i read the most, so probably expect a lot of angst lol. doesnt mean i wont write other stuff

Plagiarism not authorized

[gglitch1dd]

Y/N experiencing difficult pregnancy with one of her boys.. Izuku is beyond worried and terrified. He has read the risks of pregnancy past the age of thirty and how it takes a toll on women's bodies. The boys find out about it and help her take over all the chores, doing their homework without disturbing mom, making after school snacks and bringing mom whatever she may need. Izuku even takes frequent leaves from his hero duties to care for his pregnant wife

So sorry about my English, it is only my third language

A hard time

Midoriya Izuku x Wifey Reader

Warning: Difficult pregnancy, mention of a previous miscarriage

"Mr Midoriya."

Izuku looked up at the doctor as you lay in the hospital bed, your five-month pregnancy bump just visible from underneath the blanket. This would be your fifth child together and everything was normal. Or Izuku thought everything was normal until Izuku had received a call from his five-year old, saying that "Mommy had fallen down"

When Izuku had raced home, you had fainted and he found signs of blood between your thighs. Izuku feared the worst, thinking you had suffered a miscarriage or your life was in danger. Which is why Izuku was here, still in his hero uniform, at your side.

Izuku stood in front of the doctor. "Yes?" He asked.

"She's alright, Mr Midoriya. She's going to be just fine. With a lot of rest, she'll be just fine." She told Izuku.

Izuku let out a relieved sigh. "The baby?"

"Alive." Izuku closed his eyes in pure relief, knowing that both you and the baby were fine. "This is your wife's fifth pregnancy, am I correct?" She asked as she looked over at your file.

Izuku nodded his head. "Sixth actually." He notified. "We suffered a miscarriage before we had our second son." He moved to look back at you, not wanting to dwell on that pain that was buried by the both of you long ago that was only ever revisited once a year.

The doctor nodded silently. "Well, Mr Midoriya, as much as pregnancies typically get easier the more children one has, sometimes we get cases were high-risk pregnancies do occur. It seems this is one of them." She told him. "Your wife seems to be suffering a from low blood pressure right now and the baby seems to have a rather soft heart beat. I can only give her a bit of supplements to counter the effects. She needs rest and I mean rest. I want her on strict bed rest for the rest of her pregnancy and rich in iron meals. We want to keep her over night for today but then tomorrow, if all is the same, she can go back home."

After that discussion, Izuku sat at your bedside waiting for you to wake up. He had talked to his mother who he had called in a flurry while speeding to the hospital, telling her that you were fine and it was just a scare. He got an update on the boys, getting a bucket load of questions from a twelve year old Toshinori who seemed just about ready to jump in a cab and get to your side himself.

Izuku was touched but he needed all his sprouts in one place. He was pretty sure that he wanted to stay here at your bedside, considering his mother was holding down the fort back home.

Izuku was taken out of his thoughts as you shifted in bed with a low hum. You slowly opened your eyes as you turned to look at him. Izuku sat up as he gave you a sad smile. You reached a hand over to him which he eagerly took. Your husband moved your hand to be against his face, holding you close. "You scared me." He whispered softly.

You gave him a soft smile. "I'm sorry, my love." You told him honestly. "I... I don't know what happened..."

"You fainted." Izuku told you truthfully. "The doctor said that she's worried about the pregnancy. She's classified you as high-risk."

You let out a gentle huff as you moved to look away from him for a moment. You let out a gentle scoff. "Well, we expected this sooner or later." You spoke softly. "I'm not as young as I once was, Izu."

He looked at you without a smile on his face, worry in his face and in his frown. He let out a deep sigh as he shook his head. "I should have listened to Tenya. What were we thinking, getting you pregnant again." He put a hand to his face, pushing a hand through his green hair.

"Izuku, please." Your eyes were closed almost in pain at what he was saying. Your voice was weak but you were firm. "Please don't say that. Don't regret any child we have ever conceived, even this one." You put your hand over your stomach gently. I love all of our little sprouts, even the ones that haven't left my womb yet."

"Y/N, you're at risk." He reminded you with an adament expression. "Strict bedrest until delivery and even then its probably going to be a c-section done this time."

Your eyebrows furrowed. You had given birth to every single of your sprouts naturally, the labour time being cut in half with each child. From fourteen hours, to seven, to three, to one hour. You had always wanted control over your body especially in something as vulnerable as labour.

You looked away from your husband for a moment. "Izuku..."

"Hm."

"I want you to promise me..." You turned to look at him dead in the eye. "If something ever were to go wrong, you would save the baby even if it compromises me."

Your husband was frozen as he stared at you unblinkingly. He slowly sat up straight as he looked at you, green eyes going dark at your request. His hold on your hand tightened. "Don't you ever ask that of me again." He whispered, his voice harsh.

"Izuku-"

"No." He denied it as he stood up. "You are my wife! My wife! I won't lose you over this baby."

"Izuku, I love every single one of our sprouts even the one that was lost." You expressed with tears in your eyes. "It is not this child's fault that I'm not healthy enough this time around to carry it."

"It is also not your fault too!" He rebutted with a painful expression. He shook his head. "You are the only thing that matters to me and the boys. I can't live without you, let alone raise the boys without you. If you die, I'm following you."

You sat up at such a statement. "Izuku! We have four boys!" You reminded him.

"So then live, goddamn it Y/N!" He shouted at you, tears in his eyes, his hands shaking. That's when you saw the pure terror in his eyes, the fear and the worry that he would lose you being stronger than anything else. He dropped his head as he tried his best not to break down. "I love our boys..." he whispered. "I love our family, I love you as my wife, as the mother of my children. I love you as you are and I sure as hell love it when youre pregnant, but sweetheart..." He looked at you genuinely on the brink of losing himself in fear. "I can not lose you over this baby. I can't."

You fought your own tears, touched at his statement. You closed your eyes but nodded your head. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay."

From the moment you got back home, Izuku gave you a warm bubble bath and you were put straight in bed. Your sprouts crowded you with so much love, showing you what you had missed while you were in hospital.

However, you noticed that Inko never left. Izuku asked his mother if she could move in for the remainder of your pregnancy, which she gladly did. She helped with the boys, making sure that homework was done and the chores you needed done were finished.

Izuku didn't leave it all to his mother though. He had taken a week off of work initially and you noticed that his work hours had significantly decreased. When he did paperwork, he worked from home. He did everything from home unless it was patrol or an emergancy. Otherwise he was right at your side, moving a desk into your bedroom to make sure he was at your disposal.

He was determined to make sure this pregnancy would be easy for you.

-Glitch1d

[slu7formen]

I heard you were sad about the lack of Luke asks, so l've decided to try and help! Bare with me bc this might not be the best considering I'm think on the spot and its late over here so feel free to delete!

So, reader was with Luke when he was running away with Annie and Thalia so they're really close. Then, when her and Luke were like 16 or smth reader left on a quest and its been like 2 years so its assumed that she just failed and died on her quest. This ruined Luke bc he loved her and one night, maybe at the bonfire, he hears reader screaming his name somewhere in the foresty part of camp, just absolutely terrified. He finds her and shes hurt, I'm talkin reallyyy messed up like a massive gash across her eye, (matching scar awww) leavin her like half blind, huge claw marks, teeth marks, and other wounds. He carries her to the infirmary, shes prob passed out at this point from like blood loss. Anyways, she finally wakes up in the infirmary and a bunch of fluff ensues, yk the usual "Don't ever leave me again" "I thought you were dead" the fun stuff and obv they confess to each other! (also, is 🖤 taken?)

whoever made this request, it was so good, you’re evil and brilliant; thank you 🖤

MDNI. luke castellan x fem!reader

warnings: wounds, injuries, blood mention, presumed death, luke being heartbroken (sorry), crying

reminder: english's not my first language so l apologize for any spelling mistakes

₊˚⊹♡

Every morning, Luke woke with the same dull ache in his chest, a constant reminder of the gaping hole your absence had left in him. It was a hollow ache, a physical manifestation of the loneliness that had become his unwelcome company. Nine years old when he ran away, the world had been a harsh teacher, but three years later, when he found you, that harshness had softened, replaced by a fierce protectiveness. You, a scared, twelve-year-old with defiance blazing in your eyes and a meager weapon in hand, had become his anchor in the storm.

The streets had been a cruel way of living, but together, you and Luke had forged a bond stronger than steel. You were the same age, yet he was older by a few months, a difference that somehow granted him a silent responsibility for your safety. Thalia and Annabeth, two more lost souls swept up in the world of their demigod destinies, completed their unbalanced family. But it was you and Luke, the two eldest, who shared a silent language of understanding that went beyond words. You fought together, scavenged together, your backs against the world.

The arrival of Grover, a satyr reeking of panic, brought relief and a terrifying truth— you weren't alone. The hunt for demigods was real, and you were all in danger.

Fourteen. A year etched in his memory with the sharp point of a spear. The monsters, the desperate fight, Thalias selfless sacrifice, the agonizing transformation into the pine tree — the events played on a loop in his mind. Camp Half-Blood, once a beacon of hope, now felt like a bittersweet prison. He had you by his side then, a hand to grip in the darkness, a silent understanding in your shared gaze.

It wasn't supposed to be this way. You were supposed to be there, by his side, facing challenges and forging a future together. He replayed the memory of your first quest announcement on a loop. The fear in his gut, a slap in the face of his fierce protectiveness. He wasn't supposed to lose you.

It wasn't fair. It shouldn't have been you, alone, facing whatever monstrous fate had befallen you. A bitter taste filled his mouth as he replayed the day you left. The forced cheer, the worry that gnawed at him, all a blur now. Training became a way to numb the ache, each swing of his sword carrying a silent plea for your sate return. But as days turned into months, the hope that had fueled him began to fade away.

News traveled slow in the demigod world, but eventually, rumors reached Camp Half-Blood. Whispers of a monstrous encounter, a lost trail, a silence that stretched too long. A year after your departure, the whispers solidified into a grim reality - you were missing, presumed dead.

Luke felt the world tilt on its axis. Denial battled with a cold, horrifying truth. You were gone.

A quest, a single solitary mission, had stolen you from him. Stolen your laughter, your warmth, your presence that had become an essential part of his world. It wasn't fair.

The quest for the Golden Apple had been a cruel twist of fate. A desperate attempt to appease his father, to offer a sliver of hope to a camp drowning in sadness, it had backfired spectacularly. Luke returned empty-handed, his body wracked with exhaustion and his spirit battered. But the most visible reminder of his failure was the jagged scar that ran from beneath his eye down to his chin, a pale testament to the dragon's fury.

He'd needed your presence then more than ever. Needed your steady gaze and the quiet strength you possessed. Needed the spark of defiance in your eyes that mirrored his own growing anger towards a world that had seemed so determined to tear them apart. He needed your touch, your hugs, he needed you.

He stood stiffly before your burial shroud, an image carved in his memory forever. Tears streamed down his face, hot and unchecked. He ignored the concerned glances of his friends, focusing only on the phantom warmth of your hand in his, a memory more vivid than anything else.

In that moment, ravaged by grief, a single truth burned bright — he loved you. And he had lost you. The world felt a little emptier, a little colder, without you by his side.

And the first nights after you left were the worst.

At first, they were hopeful visions. He'd see you, alone on a dusty road, tending to a nasty gash on your arm with a makeshift bandage. A surge of worry would course through him, a familiar anxiety honed by years on the streets. But then, a wry smile would tug at his lips as he remembered the countless times he'd taught you how to create a tourniquet, how to patch a wound and survive on the bare minimum. A flicker of confidence, a belief in your resourcefulness, would chase away the initial fear. He just knew you'd find a way back to him.

He'd wake with a jolt, his hand instinctively reaching for the empty space beside him. The sheets were cold, the air thick with the silence of your absence. But then, a flicker of hope would ignite— you were alive, you were out there.

Finally, the dreams turned into nightmares. You'd appear, but not the way he remembered you. Pale and gaunt, your eyes hollow and vacant. Sometimes, you'd be chased by monstrous shadows, their grotesque forms dissolving into a chilling whisper of your name. These dreams left him gasping for breath, his heart hammering against his ribs.

It had been a little over a year since the agonizing ceremony, the image of your burial shroud seared into his memory. But time, a supposed healer, offered no solace. In reality, it had stretched the fact of your absence even wider. Two years. Two years since he'd last seen your smile, heard your voice, felt the warmth of your hand in his.

"Luke!"

Ah, yes. He heard you sometimes. At first, it happened while he was alone; he believed it could be you, trying to contact him in some way, but it never was that way. He never found you. Then he started hearing your voice in crowded places, mistaking your voice for the ones of other campers, and his heart ached every time he realized it wasn't you.

He felt like he was going insane. Hearing you, even after years. He must be going mad. But then, it became clearer.

"Luke!"

The voice, barely audible above the crackling flames, cut through his thoughts like a knife. He froze, his hand tightening around the thin stick that held his burned marshmallow. Was it-? No. It couldn't be. He must be imagining things again.

The grief, the pain, he knew, could play tricks on the mind.

He brushed it off, attempting to rejoin the conversation, forcing a lightness to his voice that felt hollow. But then, it came again. Clearer this time, tinged with a desperate urgency.

"Luke!? Luke!"

The single word, laden with a desperate urgency, pierced through his defenses. He froze, his blood turning to ice. It was your voice. The same voice that filled his dreams and haunted his waking hours. He whipped his head around, searching the darkened forest beyond the fire's reach.

But the trees stood silent, their branches swaying gently in the night breeze. Nothing. Yet, the echo of your voice lingered in the air, a chilling reminder of the impossible. His heart pounded in his chest, a frantic drum against his ribs.

He glanced around the fire, catching the bewildered expressions of a few campers who had clearly heard the voice too. Their eyes mirrored the confusion and fear that clawed at him. If he said anything, they'd think he'd cracked, that the pain had finally driven him mad.

"Luke!"

But it was you.

Your voice, unmistakable and undeniably real. A wave of disbelief washed over him, followed by a surge of hope so intense it threatened to suffocate him.

He scrambled to his feet, ignoring the surprised yelps of his friends as he knocked over a tray of steaming hot cocoa cups. Stumbling over his own feet, he charged towards the edge of the forest, his heart pounding a frantic rhythm against his ribs.

He skidded to a halt just inside the treeline, his eyes scanning the darkness. "yn!?" he called out, his voice hoarse with a mixture of fear and desperate hope. The only reply was the rustling of leaves in the night breeze.

It was cloaked in darkness, making it impossible to discern any details. But there was a smallness, a fragility to its silhouette that resonated with his memory of you.

Just as doubt began to creep back in, another call pierced the silence. "Luke!" This time, the desperation in your voice was unmistakable.

He didn't hesitate any longer. "yn!" he roared, his voice raw with emotion as he launched himself into a run.

Several campers, roused by the commotion, scrambled to their feet, their eyes wide with confusion and trepidation. They watched, mouths agape, as Luke bolted towards the treeline, his long strides eating away at the distance.

"Luke!" Your voice came again, closer this time, tinged with a note of panic.

"yn!" He didn't dare slow down, his heart making its way up to his mouth. He could hear the sound of others following him, their footsteps pounding on the soft earth behind him.

Through the dense foliage, he caught a glimpse of your figure — small, hunched over, moving with a limp. Hope flared bright within him, battling the tide of fear that threatened to drown him.

Then, you stumbled, nearly falling. He redoubled his efforts, pushing himself to the limit. As he broke through the last line of trees, he saw you standing there, bathed in the pale moonlight.

And his breath hitched in his throat.

The sight of you, once vibrant and full of life, was a punch to the gut. Dirt and grime smeared your face, your clothes were ripped and tattered, and a sheen of sweat covered your brow. But it was the wounds that stole his breath away. Deep claw marks raked across your arms, a bloody gash marred your leg, and the most horrifying of all — a massive scar stretched across your eye, a brutal reminder of some unseen battle. The campers behind him gasped in unison, their faces etched with shock and horror.

Chiron, alerted by the commotion, pushed his way through the crowd, his brow furrowed in concern.

But your focus was solely on Luke. With a desperate cry of his name, you lurched towards him, your injured leg buckling beneath you. Without hesitation, Luke launched himself forward, catching you in his arms just before you hit the ground.

"Luke..." you whispered, your voice barely a breath. Your eyes, the one that wasn't obscured by the wound, flickered with a spark of relief and a hint of something else - a deep, unspoken emotion that mirrored his own.

Then, your eyelids fluttered closed, and your body went limp in his arms. Panic surged through him as he cradled you closer, his voice hoarse with a mixture of fear and relief. " yn? No, no, no, no, yn?" he slightly slapped your cheek, no response. He looked back to to the campers that decided to follow him, his voice cracking with desperation. "Get the Apollo cabin, now!"

The days that followed your arrival were shrouded in a suffocating silence. The once vibrant camp seemed to echo with a collective held breath. No one dared to talk to Luke.

His eyes, once playful and sparkly, now held a deep, smoldering anger. He snapped at anyone who dared to approach. Only Chiron, with his patient wisdom, Annabeth, with her loyalty, and the healers of Apollo cabin, sworn to secrecy about your condition, were able to pierce the storm raging within him.

Each day, a relentless routine unfolded. Luke would rise with the first rays of dawn, his body heavy with the weight of his own despair. He'd force down a meager breakfast, the taste turning to ash in his mouth. Then, with a heart that felt like a lead weight in his chest, he'd make the agonizing trek to the Big House, the temporary haven where you resided. He would do it multiple times a day, actually.

Lee, the son of Apollo with a mop of messy blonde hair and eyes that held a touch of empathy, would greet him at the door, a practiced neutrality masking his concern. The answer was always the same. You were alive. The healers had managed to stabilize you. But your recovery was a slow, painful journey. The wounds you bore were a testament to a harrowing pain, and the care they had taken on your body was immense.

As soon as you had fainted in his arms, you had slipped into unconsciousness. No amount of coaxing, no whispered pleas from the healers, or songs in Ancient Greek, could bring you back. Luke was devastated. The relief of having you back, a physical presence after two agonizing years, was a fragile flame quickly extinguished by the reality of your condition. Your life hung by a thread, and he was kept at arm's length.

One particularly bleak afternoon, Luke found himself face-to-face with Chiron. The old centaur, his kind eyes reflecting the turmoil swirling within Luke, gestured for him to sit.

"Luke," Chiron began, his voice soft yet firm, "I understand your pain. Your worry for yn is valid and understandable. But you must also understand, her condition is delicate"

Luke clenched his fists, his jaw tightening with suppressed anger. "Why can't I see her? Annabeth's younger than me and yet, she gets to see her. Why not me?" The words tumbled out, laced with a raw desperation.

Chiron sighed, a weary sound. "Because, Luke," he said, his voice heavy with empathy, "we fear the emotional toll it might take on you if-, if the worst were to happen."

He slumped in his chair, defeated. Grief, anger, and a gnawing helplessness battled within him.

"How long then?" he rasped, his voice barely a whisper. "How long will it be before I can see her again?"

Chiron reached out, placing a comforting hand on Luke's shoulder. "We don't know, Luke" he said honestly. "But the healers are doing their best And you need to find your strength. She will need it when she wakes up”

He nodded dumbly, understanding Chiron's concern for him. But that didn't make the gnawing ache in his chest any less agonizing. He missed you. Missed the warmth of your hand in his, the light that sparkled in your eyes, the way your laughter could chase away even the darkest shadows.

A few days later, he walked by the Big House again. Lee greeted him again, just as every other day.

"How is she?" Luke asked.

Lee sighed, a gust of exasperation tinged with sympathy. He looked tired himself, dark circles under his eye and a large cup of coffee in his hand. "Little change. But she's stable. Stronger than she looks. We had some healers fainting because of how much singing they've done to her"

A muscle ticked in Luke's jaw. "Can't I at least see her?" The words came out harsher than he intended, dripping with frustration.

Lee studied him for a long moment, his own blue eyes reflecting the turmoil within Luke. Finally, he spoke. "Look, I get it. You're scared, you're angry. But you have to understand, seeing her likes this... we can't let you"

Luke clenched his fists. "I can handle it" he growled, the beast within him straining against its leash.

Lee took a step closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "Can you, Luke? Can you handle the possibility that maybe she doesn't get to wake up?"

The question hung in the air, a brutal truth that stripped away Luke's bravado. He stared at Lee, the anger draining away, replaced by a raw vulnerability that surprised even him. He swallowed hard, the lump in his throat suddenly making it hard to breathe.

"No" he whispered, the single word a confession of his deepest fear.

Lee nodded, a flicker of understanding softening his features. "Then trust us, Luke. Trust the healers. We're doing everything we can."

And then he remember Chiron's words. He knew he was right. He couldn't bear the thought of the last image of you being one of unconsciousness, a pale specter in a sterile infirmary bed.

The days that followed settled into a grim routine. Luke stopped asking the relentless question, 'Did she wake up?' The answer, etched into his weary soul, was a constant ache that no words could soothe. He had stopped arguing, the initial burst of rebellion replaced by a quiet desperation. He started asking more specific questions, focusing on the details of your injuries. Your eye, the massive gash that mirrored his own scar in a way that made his stomach churn, became a particular point of morbid fascination.

He couldn't bear to look at the jagged mark on his face, couldn't imagine how it felt on yours.

Not because he thought you wouldn't be beautiful —he knew you would be. But the thought of you facing the same constant reminder of pain, of vulnerability, filled him with a protective rage that simmered beneath the surtace.

But then, a shift began to occur. He noticed stolen glances exchanged between the Apollo campers, hushed whispers that died down as soon as he entered their vicinity. An unspoken secret they guarded fiercely. He tried to ignore it, burying himself in training, seeking solace in the familiar sting of sweat and exertion. Chiron's words were a constant drumbeat in his head - seeing you too soon, on the precipice of death, was a burden he might not bear.

But later that day, as the sun dipped below the horizon casting the camp in an orange glow, Chiron sought him out. Luke braced himself, his heart plummeting into his stomach. His mind spun with a thousand morbid possibilities.

He met Chiron's gaze, a storm brewing in his own eyes. "What is it?" he rasped, voice breaking.

Chiron took a deep breath, his eyes locking onto Luke's with a solemn intensity. "Luke," he began, his voice thick with a mix of trepidation and hope, "she's awake."

The world seemed to tilt on its axis again. The air whooshed out of Luke's lungs, leaving him breathless. For a moment, he could only stare, his mind struggling to process the simple, life-altering statement.

Then he ran.

His feet pounded a trantic rhythm against the dusty path, each step fueled by a desperate need to see you. Chiron's protests, if there were any, were lost in the roar of blood rushing in his ears. He wouldn't be denied this. Not now. His legs pumped like pistons, fueled by a desperate hope that threatened to shatter him if it turned out to be false. He burst through the doors of the Big House, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste. The interior was deserted, the silence amplifying the frantic pounding of his heart.

He flung open the infirmary door, the sight inside momentarily stealing his breath. Two Apollo campers stood by the window, their hushed whispers abruptly cut short by his arrival.

But his eyes were locked on you, the very image of him defying the cruelty of fate.

You sat on the bed, a fragile silhouette bathed in the pale light, your head bent over your bandaged hands. Your hair, once a fiery mane, had grown longer, a testament to the time that had passed for him in a blur of grief. Your skin, usually kissed by the sun, was a pale canvas.

He took everything in — the fresh cuts marring your arms, the claw marks, the way your shoulders slumped with exhaustion. And you had lifted your head, startled by the sudden noise.

Your eyes, usually sparkling with life, were dull with pain, but when they met his, a spark ignited within them.

"Luke!"

The word ripped from your throat, a cry that echoed with relief and a tremor of something deeper. You lunged off the bed, ignoring the wince that contorted your face as your injured leg protested.

"yn, wait!" Lee sprang forward, concern etched on his face. Your stitches, particularly those on your thigh, were still fresh, and any sudden movement could cause them to tear.

But you didn't listen. You threw yourself at Luke, your arms wrapping around him with a desperation that mirrored his own. He caught you, the impact sending a jolt through his body. His arms tightened around you, a desperate need to hold on, to feel you solid against him.

He held you tight, the fierce possessiveness in his grip both a comfort and a warning. Your body, the way you fit so perfectly against his larger frame, sent a jolt through him. He'd grown, you realized, his broad shoulders feeling wider, his embrace stronger. In contrast, you felt impossibly small, the warrior you remembered replaced by a shell of the person you once were. His hot tears quickly started to wet your hair.

The sudden weakness in your leg, the one that had been screaming in protest since you lunged at him, finally overwhelmed you. A sharp cry escaped your lips as your body gave way beneath you. Instinctively, Luke tightened his grip, his arms morphing into a cradle to catch your fall.

The impact with the floor sent a fresh wave of pain shooting through you, but it was a dull ache compared to the overwhelming joy of finally being in his arms again. You clung to him, your fingers digging into his back, burying your face in the crook of his neck. Luke wouldn't stop sobbing now, his shoulder shaking as his arms held you into his embrace.

The Apollo campers, sensing the intimacy of the moment, mumbled apologies as they slipped out of the infirmary, leaving you and Luke alone.

He cradled you close, the scent of your hair and the warmth of your body a balm to his battered soul. He buried his face in your hair, inhaling the familiar fragrance that had haunted his dreams for so long. It was real. You were real.

"You're alive" he sobbed, the words a broken mantra against your ear. "You're alive" he repeated. Each repetition wasn't just for you, but for him, a desperate attempt to convince himself that this wasn't a cruel dream, that you weren't an illusion.

He pulled back slightly, cupping your face in his hand, his thumb gently tracing the line of your jaw. The wounds looked clean now, stitched and bandaged, but the raw pain was etched in the lines around your eyes. The gash across your eye, a crimson scar angry and fresh, pulled at the corner of your eye, making it appear swollen and bruised. Yet, to him, you were the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen.

It started a finger's width above your eyebrow, then, just as abruptly, it dipped down, catching the outer corner of your eye. The scar tissue pulled the delicate skin, making your eye appear slightly narrowed and bloodshot.

But despite the rawness of the wound, despite the vulnerability etched on your face, there was something undeniably fierce about you. It was a look he hadn't seen before, a look born from surviving the unthinkable.

Tears welled up in your eyes again, blurring your vision. You had always been beautiful, that much was undeniable. But now, even with a scar contrasting against your features, you were breathtaking.

He didn't mean to say it out loud, but the words tumbled from his lips before he could stop them.

"You look beautiful" he breathed, his voice thick with emotion.

His words sent a shiver down your spine. You leaned into his touch, seeking solace in the warmth of his hand. "It hurts" you whispered, a tear tracing a path down your cheek.

"I know" he murmured, his voice filled with empathy. He sniffed uncontrollably at your sight, so broken and fragile, wrapped around his arm. "But you're alive. You're here" his bottom lip started trembling before he could control it. He inhaled sharply and his voice came out shaky; "I thought you were dead" tears rolling down his cheeks.

You laughed, a weak sound that was more like a sob. "You won't get rid of me that easily"

He leaned in, his forehead resting against yours, his breath warm on your skin. In that moment, the infirmary with its sterile smell and harsh light faded away. All that existed was the feel of you in his arms, the warmth of your body against his, and the knowledge that you were alive.

"Don't ever leave me again" he pleaded, his voice thick with a mix of relief and terror. The thought of losing you again, of facing another agonizing day without you, was almost unbearable.

"I wouldn't dream of it" you whispered.