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quintinh43 · 2 months

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Heavy Heads and Heavy Hearts | Quinn Hughes

Summary: Quinn gets injured as a game. His girlfriend takes him and cares for him.

Pairings: Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Anxiety, Head injury, food, angst, mentions of vomiting (no actual vomiting)

Notes: Hi guyss! Hope everyone is doing ok! Injured Quinn got the most votes, so here we are! This one is the longest one ive done so far, I definitely did not mean for it to be as long as it is but here we are. Also, im not a professionl in any way, so i cant say this is concussion accurate. I just went off of my experience in dealing with athletes that have Concussions, and my own Concussions lol. Anywaysss I hope yall enjoy. Love Soph.

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There was something so gut-wrenching about watching the man you love get injured. One second, Quinn was cutting quickly around the back of the net, and the next, he was getting slammed into the boards hard. It was nothing. You get hit, you get up, and you keep going. It was simply a part of hockey.

Except this time, Quinn wasn't getting up. He wasn't moving at all. You stand up, heart in your throat. The room feels like it's tilting. The sharp shrill of the refs whistle cut through the air, stopping the play as the refs skate over to where Quinn is lying motionless on the ice.

They are calling for medics. Your head is spinning with the worst possible scenarios as you excuse yourself from your seat and practically sprint to the locker room. One of the security members holds out a hand to stop you.

"Ma'am, you can't be here, please exit this area"

Great. Just fucking great. This is exactly what you need right now. The overwhelming need that aches in your bones demanding to know that Quinn is ok makes you want to cry. Because now this fucker won't let you through. And you're nearly too panicked to do anything about it.

The logical route would be pulling out Quinns wallet, that has his ID in it, and explaining that you are his girlfriend. But with your anxiety high, and your heart in your throat logic is not the first thing on your mind.

"Listen buddy," you start, ready to absolutely rip this guy a new one. Thankfully for him, one of the trainers who knows you happens to be exiting the locker room.

"Let her through, Jace, that's Hughes' girl" he says, waving you forward. The security guard- Jace apparently, lets you pass with a grumble.

By the time you get rink side, Quinn is (half) conscious- thank God, and being half carried off the ice by Petey and Boeser. He's transfered to the care of two medics, who sit him on a bench and begin to check him over.

One of them is asking him questions gently, both to keep him awake and assess the damage to his head. While the other stabilizes his neck. "Can you tell me your full name and today's date?" One of the medics asks.

"Quintin Jerome Hughes," he slurs, eyes fluttering, "its Feb'uary... twenty-second, twenty-twenty-four"

Your breath hitches. He got the date wrong. You can't help the panic that rushes through you. "Good job Quinn, do you know where you are?"

"Van, Roger's arena," he mumbles, "playing hockey"

"Good," the medic hums. "we need to take off your equipment to make sure you aren't injured anywhere else. Is that ok?"

"Y/n" he mumbles, eyes closing and head tilting forward, his head snapped back up a moment later, and if the other medic hadn't had his head stabilized he would probably have mild whiplash.

"Stay awake for us, Quinn. Is Y/n someone you'd like us to call?"

You spring forward at the mention of your name, "I'm here," you say, pushing past a couple of people who are standing around, ready to assist if the situation gets worse.

"My girl" Quinn slurs, his lips tilting into a small smile. Your heart flutters at that. In the midst of his delirium, he still cares about you dearly.

"Hello Y/n, I'm Sam," the guy who's been asking him questions, "and that's Kieran," he says, nudging his head towards Kieran, who gives a small smile.

"Do you think you could help us remove his equipment?"

"Yes absolutely, just tell me what to do" you say, glad that you can help.

"Can you remove his jersey and shoulder pads? Kieran needs to keep his neck stable, and I need to check for any other possible injuries. And keep him talking"

"Yeah, of course," you start by bending his elbow to slide it out of the sleeve of his jersey.

"Hey Quinny" you say softly, sliding his other arm out of his jersey "you played really really good today, I'm so proud of you"

"Thanks baby," he murmers, "glad you're here." He tries to lean his head against your chest, he huffs when Kieran doesn't let him, and you can't help but let out a breathy laugh, patting his head lovingly.

Kieran tilts his head to one side, allowing you to pull the jersey over his head. You deposit it in his cubby behind him and make quick work undoing his shoulder pads and pulling them off gently.

"I'm glad I'm here too. What do you wanna eat when we get home?"

Sam gently asks you to move out of the way so he can check Quinns upper body for injuries. The second you aren't doing something, the anxiety rises back to your chest. You take a deep breath and begin to unlace his skates. You pull them off, slipping a pair of slides on his feet so his socks don't get wet.

"Hmm" he hums in thought "potatos...?"

You laugh, "Alright Quinny. We'll have potatos"

Finally after palpating his whole body to make sure he doesn't have any other major injuries, testing his reflexes, and asking him a bunch more questions. They diagnose him with a minor concussion, and give you a list of things to look out for.

They deem it safe enough to leave you alone with him for a little bit and tell you to change him into something more comfortable. It takes a bit of work to take off his hockey pants and shinguards and get him into a pair of sweats and a hoodie.

By the time you're done, the equipment manager and the medics have collected the rest of his equipment. After making sure his hockey bag is fully packed with everything, you grab his keys from your purse, while the EM helps you bring his bag to his car, and the medic helps you half carry him down.

He can mostly walk on his own, but better safe than sorry. On the ride home he keeps his head resting against the window, a cool compress is wrapped around his neck, and he's holding one over his eyes with one hand, while the other holds yours tightly.

You trace your thumb over the backs of his knuckles soothingly and keep him talking the whole way home. "What kind of potatoes do you want when we get home, Hon?"

"Can I change my mind?" He asks sheepishly. He's still talking very quietly and slurring his words a little, but the medics said that was nothing to worry about unless he started getting worse. So far, it was nothing to worry about.

"Of course my love, anything you want" you bring your intertwined hands to rest on your chest. It's a comforting weight over your heart, that you didn't know you needed until it was there.

Your phone lights up from the cup holder, it's a text from Petey, saying that the Canucks won the game. There are a few other texts, from his parents and brothers. You make a mental note to reply to them as soon as you get Quinn settled at home.

"Can we have noodles?" He mumbles.

"Yes, of course, love." You can't help but kiss the back of his knuckles. Watching Quinn get injured to the point of losing consciousness was not something you ever wanted to experience ever again.

"Your boys won, by the way," you say softly.

"The did?!" Quinns head shoots up front the window, and he is filled with instant regret as a sharp twinge shoots down his neck and to his shoulder.

"Ow fuck" he mumbles, laying his head back against the cool window.

"Careful love," you gasp, squeezing his hand.

"I know, I'm sorry," he mumbles, squeezing your hand back. You sigh, you have been on edge since he got injured, and it didn't look like the anxiety would dissipate for a while. You would just have to deal with it and try not to be an over bearing worry wart.

"You guys won 5-2" you smile, finally pulling into your apartment parking lot.

"I didn't do much except get my brains knocked around" he grumbles. "Some captain I am"

You scoff, flicking him in the nose lightly. "Don't sell yourself short, Quinny. Three of those points are yours."

Quinn wrinkles his nose and leans forward to bite your finger. You yelp, snatching it away with a glare. He sticks his tongue out at you, and you laugh, your chest feeling a little lighter than before.

"Come on, let's get you upstairs. " You say, undoing your seat belt and getting out of the car. You run around to his passenger side and open the door for him, and help him step out of the car. He throws an arm over your shoulder, and you wrap one around his waist. He's not as wobbly on his feet as he was earlier, but he still isn't at full strength.

Quinn squeezes his eyes shut and tucks his face against your hair. The florescent elevator lights were not pleasant in his state. "Can we keep the apartment lights off?" He mumbles against your hair.

"Sure love," you said rubbing your hand up and down his back soothingly, "we're almost home," you fish the keys out of your purse and unlock it. You toe your shoes off at the door while Quinn slips his off easily and you guide him to the couch.

"What do you want first, baby? Food or a shower?"

"I'm not really hungry" Quinn mumbles, laying on the couch and adjusting the ice pack under his neck. You sit on the couch handle, stroking his hair back from his forehead. "I know honey, but we should try to get something light in your system, if you're feeling upto it."

Quinn sighs. He knows you're right. "I can make you toast? Or a sandwich or something?" You offer, smoothing your thumb over his hairline.

"Do we have bagles?" He asks

"Yeah, we have bagles, I'll make you one of those?"

"Yes please," he mumbles, you plant a kiss on his forehead and go pop a bagle into the toaster, "can you do it with cream cheese and jam?" He asks, chewing on his lip nervously.

"Sure, Hon, I'm gonna make myself some tea. Do you want a cup?" You ask as you pull the cream cheese and jam out of the fridge.

"No thanks, I'm ok" he mumbles. After his bagle is done being made, you help ease him into sitting position, and sit next to him with your cup of tea. He eats a bit more than half the bagle, and you finish off the rest before deeming it time to shower.

You remember all the messages from his family, and quickly shoot them texts, saying that he's ok and you just got home and you'll talk more when he gets settled.

"I'm gonna put these back in the freezer while we shower, yeah?"

Quinn nods, handing the ice packs to you to put in the freezer. You help him up slowly and lead him to the bathroom. You keep the lights off and leave the door open so you have a little bit of light from the bedroom.

While the shower warms up, you grab a clean change of clothes for both you and Quinn and set them on the counter before helping Quinn strip. He has to brace an arm against the wall while you hold him steady with one hand and maneuver his clothes off with the other.

"I'm sorry," he murmers against your hair as you help him step into the shower.

"Oh Quinn, there's nothing to be sorry for," you say, sitting him on the shower seat.

"I'm sorry you have to take care of me like this." He huffs, resting his head against the cool Ike of the shower wall, "I feel so pathetic, " his voice cracks, and your heart nearly breaks.

"Quinn, my love, taking care of you is not a burden. It's a pleasure. I love you to the ends of the earth, and I would do anything for you, my sweets. " You kiss him on the forehead sweetly as if to prove your point.

He doesn't say much about it after that, but you can tell he still feels bad. You make quick work of washing his hair, being very careful of where a small bump has formed on his head. You scrub him down and rinse him off before shutting off the water.

You wrap a towel around yourself and then dry Quinn off gently before helping him change into his pajamas. "Let me change and then dry your hair a little bit before we have to put an ice pack on your head, ok?"

Quinn nods. He sits on the counter, leaning against the wall while you change into your pajamas. You plug in the hair dryer and dry his hair, keeping his head steady with one hand. As soon as his hair is no longer soaking wet, you help him off the bathroom counter and into bed. You grab the ice packs from the freezer and help him position them on his head and neck until he's comfortable.

"I'll be back in less than ten minutes, baby. I'm just going to grab your stuff from the car, ok?" You say pulling on a pair of sweats and a hoodie over your pajamas.

"Ok" Quinn mumbles, "I'll call if anything" he says patting his nightstand to make sure his phone is there.

You kiss him on the forehead and pull the bedroom door halfway closed so the light from the hall isn't too bright. Grabbing his car keys and your phone from the counter, you hit the call button on Ellen's contact as you slip out the door.

She picks up on the first ring "Hows he doing?" She asks immediately. She sounds distressed, maybe like she's been crying. You don't blame her. They probably haven't heard anything unless someone on the team contacted them, and you have no idea how bad it looked on TV.

"He's ok, Mrs. H, it's a mild concussion. His symptoms aren't worsening at all, and they said with some rest he'll be significantly better by tomorrow"

Her sigh of relief was unmatched. "He'll be out of play for a couple of weeks, but they just want to make sure he's back to 100% before he's playing again." The elevator finally opens, and you hit the button for the parking garage.

"Thank you so much, Y/n, im glad you're there with him. I know he's in good hands. I'll leave you be love, Jack and luke are super super anxious and would appreciate a call from you. Text me if anything happens."

"I will, Mrs. H, tell Mr. H I say hi"

"I will dear, thanks for taking care of our boy"

"Of course El, he's my boy too," you smile.

You swear you can hear Ellen smile over the phone. "We love you dear, I'll talk to you tomorrow ok. Don't forget to take care of yourself too"

"I will, I love you guys too. I'll text you updates"

"Alright, bye dear."

"Bye," you sigh, pressing the end call button, just as the elevator opens to the parking garage. As you press the button to open the trunk, you call Jack.

"Y/n," he huffs out, not even after a full ring. "How's Quinn? If he ok? What happened?" Before you can answer any of Jacks questions, Luke's voice cuts him off, "is Quinn ok? Are you guys at the hospital? It looked really bad -"

Before their panicked tangents can get worse, you interrupt them both. "Take a breath, you two," you say calmly, breathing exaggeratedly so they can copy you "in and out, relax. Quinn is ok. He's ok"

"He's ok?"

"He's ok" you repeat. You feel the tears start to build, and your voice cracks "He's ok"

"Oh Y/n." Jack says softly.

"It's ok, I'm ok" you say, more to yourself than to Jack as you wipe the tears away. "Hold on, gimme one sec." You say, setting down your phone as you pull Quinn's hockey bag out the car. You close the trunk, make sure the car is locked and head back to the elevator.

"Hi, sorry I'm back. I was just grabbing Quinn's stuff out the car."

"Can you tell us what happened?" Luke asks softly.

"He's got a concussion, and he's a bit bruised up, but other than that he's alright"

"Fuck, how bad is it?" Jack asks, the fear is evident in his voice, and you can't blame him. Concussions can be really bad sometimes.

"They said its a mild concussion, he's not throwing up at all, his memory is ok, he didn't injure his spine or anything, he'll be ok after a few days of rest. He probably wont be playing for a few weeks, but better safe than sorry."

"Oh thank God" both Jack and Luke huffed "isn't he not supposed to sleep for 24 hours after or something?" Luke asks.

You shake your head with a small smile "Thats a myth, Lukey. As long as I check on him every few hours its ok for him to sleep."

"Ohh, ok. Well that's good" Luke says.

"We are glad he has you Y/n, thank you for taking care of our brother."

"Always" you say softly.

"We'll let you go now, keep us updated?"

"I will, Jackie. You two get some rest, you have a big game tomorrow, love you guys"

"We love you too Y/n/n" both boys say, hanging up.

You sigh, leaving his bag at the door. "Y/n?" Quinns weak voice calls out from the bedroom. You rush to him immediately, scared that something is wrong.

"Yes, Quinny, I'm right here" you say kneeling beside the bed, and stroking his hair.

"You took long," he mumbles, pressing his lips against your wrist.

"I'm sorry love, I'm here now," you stand, stripping the hoodie and sweats off and climbing into bed next to him. You stay a little distance away, not wanting to hurt Quinn. But he grumbles at you, tugging on your shirt to get you to come closer. Normally, he would just grab you and pull you closer, but he's still weak.

"I don't wanna hurt you" you mumble, scooting closer so that you are tucked against his side. He tangles your legs together and rests his head against yours.

"Never" he says, pressing his lips to the side of your head. You rest one of your hands on his hip, under his shirt, stroking your thumb over his hip bone.

"How you feeling?" You ask softly.

"Beat" he mumbles "thanks for taking care of me"

"I'll take care of you for as long as you let me love" you say, pressing a gentle kiss to the underside of his jaw.

"Forever?"

"Forever."

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Wc: 3.1k

#qh43 #quinn hughes #nhl imagine #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes x y/n #luke hughes #vancover canucks #jack hughes #hockey #nhl x y/n #nhl x you #nhl imagines #love soph

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snowsinterlude · 4 months

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the ballad of money, power, and glory.

(coriolanus snow x reader x lucy gray baird)

summary: being lucy gray's best friend, you were always updated on her life, not knowing how she truly felt for you. and now, with coriolanus snow being your new friend, it was odd seeing them fighting so much over your attention, with you not knowing that both of them were obsessively in love with you.

based on this ask

c.w: lucy gray baird, coriolanus snow, implied aromantic reader, yandere behavior from both of them (nothing too serious), unrequited love, drama, jealousy, love triangle, obsessive love. contains some movie/book accurate mentions but nothing very important, violent content, lucy is mentioned to have been your first kiss, commedy in the end.

chapter one: money.

"god, you gotta see her, snow." lucy beamed, her smile going from ear to ear as she talked about you. "she's so cute! i think she's the love of my life, truly." she said

snow frowned at her words. in the capitol, it wasn't seen in good lights to have someone talking so passionately about other person of the same gender. he rolled his eyes internally, his arms were on the back of his back as he walked behind her. supposedly, you were going to be waiting for them at the train station.

he walked, and walked, and walked. all of those minutes were awfully torturing his soul as he watched lucy gray talk more and more about you- as if she hadn't done it during the entire hunger games already. like on the zoo, when he thought she would be crying from fear of dying when, in reality, she was crying from fear of not seeing you for a last time.

he remembered it perfectly, better than he remembered the biology classes he had. lucy bawling her eyes out silently, still sobbing as she looked at him and explained how much she owed you- how much she loved you. it was like she couldn't think of anything other than you.

"she is always so pretty, so sickeningly beautiful. i can't stand the thought of losing her, snow. i wanna be with her." she said, her eyes red and puffed while her nose was as red as a tomato.

"have you told her about it?" he asked, face leaned on his fist as he observed the singer cry.

"no, snow." she answered, sniffing. "i've made a mistake," she chuckled, wanting to slap herself.

"what did you do?"

'i only noticed i love her now."

remebering that, snow started thinking that you should be the most beautiful girl of district 12- or that maybe you didn't had a single flaw on your skin por something like that. maybe you were one of those who hypnotized people at your surroundings to make them percieve you like the most desired thing they wished for.

but then he saw you from afar, waiting for lucy gray while your eyes roamed through the crowd. he didn't asked for you, no, never. he never asked you to blink like a doll, to look at him with those shining eyes and god, whatever it was that snapped inside you made him obsessed with the thought of having you as his main prize.

his thoughts were interrupted by the sight of lucy gray baird hugging you tightly, kissing your face multiple times as you laughed, hands on her waist as you kissed her face too. he cleared his throat, awkwardly.

"ah, snow. that's my best friend, my soulmate, y/n" she said, and you chuckled before shaking his hand.

"pleasured to meet you, yn. im-"

"coriolanus snow, i know." you said, kissing the back of his hand in a theatrical manner. "hello."

"you know?"

"yeah, my dear lucy told me all about you. and, let's be sincere, you were on the tv during the interviews on the hunger games." you said, smiling while shaking his hand "i'm happy you helped her!" you said

the spark that shone in his heart was fueled furiously by your words. 'your desde lucy'? what's that, a movie?

that was the first time he felt jealousy.

chapter two: power.

lucy gray baird was your best friend since kindergarden. what could you say? sandbox love never dies.

well, her love for you seemed to have grown sharp as a way to protect you and herself from the ones that could hurt you. that's why she glanced at snow menancingly as he forced his place between you both at the bar. when you were dancing with some older group of old ladies, she finally spoke up.

"what are you doing?" she asked, not looking into his eyes, and she didn't needed to for him to know she was angry.

"what do you mean?" he asked, faking innocence.

"don't act innocent, coriolanus." she growled, frowning "she's mine."

"i don't recall asking for that information." he said, smiling at the sight of your happy face dancing with other elders.

"you will not take her away from me." she said, getting up and walking to you only to playfully grab your waist and your hand, dancing with you while coriolanus watched.

you were so dazzling beautiful in his eyes, he just had to have you. it wasn't his fault that lucy gray thought and felt the same way about you.

with that in mind, lucy gray baird punch on his face was unexpected.

"what the fuck, baird?!"

"i told you to leave her alone! you are a fucking peacekeeper, coriolanus! when will you stop that?!"

"'that' what???" he asked, voice loud enough for him to frown at it.

"don't feign dumb, you disgraceful blond. you know she has sensible hearing and you bring her in to fucking SHOT at trees?" she screamed. the singer had the most defiant frown on her face, making it clear just how much she was willing to go for you.

his expression seemed to calm down, his stare on her became confused. "i... i didn't know- she didn't tell me-"

"oh of course you don't know. do you even bother asking?!" she asked, her eyes boring holes into him. "get away from her, snow."

and she left him behind just like that.

of course he wouldn’t know how sensitive you were when it comes to your hearing. he would never get to know you the way she did. but behind that façade, she hated herself for introducing him to you.

at this moment, she hated snow as much as he hated her.

chapter three: glory.

that wasn't on your plans.

you were aware of your friendship with lucy being a bit too... sweet. you didn't care about it. she was still your best friend and you were still the girl who saved her from that ginger girl.

when you met coriolanus snow, you could already see history repeating itself. lucy was jealous and coriolanus was obsessive. this match would end up being your death, probably.

you didn't really liked them the way they wished you did. you were aware of how much coriolanus liked you, from the moment you kissed the back of your hand till now.

and yet, you were still not into the singer nor the victor, you were fine on your own and decided that a long time ago. you wouldn't be a good girlfriend, couldn't even take care of yourself, how would you take care of someone else?

for that motive, and others, that i won't be able to speak about, you never liked anyone. and people started thinking it was lucy gray's fault, with her cunt m constant bragging about being your first kiss. and she was, but you not liking anyone wasn't her fault, you truly just couldn't seem to find someone who was just right to you.

with that being said, you were the one angry at them right now. what the hell that has happened between them, envolved you, and you weren't having it.

"i don't love any of you," you said, for their own shock.

chapter four: the ballad of the unloved ones.

sitting still on front of you, lucy gray baird felt like she was punched on her heart, losing air from her lungs quickly than actually needed. coriolanus, right by her side, felt the urge to throw up as he recieved the unhappy news of how you didn't loved them.

it was the truth, though. but you still held them on each of your arms and let them take in the affirmation of how you felt about them.

"but-" lucy begun, shaking a bit from the anxiety on her chest.

"-no, lu. i'm sorry," you said, "i don't really feel like loving anyone. i never loved anyone, not in this way though." you cooed, giving her the comfort of your kisses on her forehead.

"but maybe, if we j-just-" coriolanus stopped in his tracks when you shook your head negatively, your fingers drawing patterns on his scalp, and he almost meowed at it.

"sorry, dear. i only love you both as friends." you said.

and they understood you after a long talking, a bunch of silent tears and sobs from their delusions.

by the end of the day, they were at the bar, both looking pathetically red from the way they cried after it.

"sorry for punching you on the nose," lucy said, and she looked like a ghost, finger tracing patterns on a cup. "i don't wanna lose her," she goes.

"sorry for shooting the mocking jays on that evening," he said, sipping on his cup. he was refering to the evening where she punch him.

"you did what."

"uh. i shot the mocking jays."

"coruolanus 'm gonna shoot you in the ass." she growled.

they were back to being friends, and made sure to protect you. just because you didn't reciprocated none of their feelings it didn't mean they would start bitchin' about it (even though they did for like, two weeks.)

so, them both heard festus with his friends talking about you- it wasn't nothing good. and which better way to end him than punching him?

yeah, they were still your best friends. you still loved them dearly with each part of your being.

but just as friends.

#young coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #the hunger games the ballad of songbirds & snakes #young president snow #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #x reader #lucy gray baird #lucy gray x reader #lucy gray my beloved #lucy gray x yn

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burnyouwithacigarettelighter · 7 months

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IT’S YOU, HAPPY ALL THE TIME ─── jonathan breech ✧☾𖦹

ೃ⁀➷ “I ask Jessica what drowning feels like and she says not everything feels like something else." — ‘Jessica gives me a chill pill’, Angie Sijun Lou.

pairing. jonathan breech x reader

summary. you’ve bared your heart to your bestfriend, jonathan, more times than you can count, whilst knowing practically nothing at all about him. what is friendship if it is not equal… what is love if it is not returned? can your relationship survive such one-sidedness?

warnings. swearing, TW mention & description of suicide/attempts & depression, very introspective/kind of a character study???, alcohol & drug use, pining, ANGST!!!!, crying, fluff, smut with feelings, p in v, unprotected sex, oral sex (f), SMUT UNDER THE CUT!

word count. 10k (WTF??!?!!??)

a/n. the title is from “she won’t go away” by faye webster:) btw this is… rly angsty (and SO long omg im still in shock) so beware🫡 ALSO IM SO SORRY FOR NOT POSTING IN WHILE!! SCHOOL IS KICKING MY BUTT & THIS FIC WAS AN ABSOLUTE MONSTER TO WRITE LMAO

There are very few words in your vocabulary you can use to accurately describe Jonathan Breech.

The boy is an enigma, a matryoshka doll that never ends: he is witty and lighthearted and sarcastic, but you’ll always catch that edge, the air of malaise he carries around himself, the unspoken elephant in the room that screams WHO ARE YOU REALLY?

He had always been more of a figure, a landscape; something to witness, observe-- experience without letting it do the same to you. You don’t know if that’s something you want, either: there’s an imbalance in his hilarity, and he always takes things a step too far. Jonathan lights matches and lets them burn all the way down to his fingertips; he shaves and lets the blade leave stinging little nicks, rivulets of blood running down his neck; he chainsmokes cigarettes in his room and only opens the window when he feels his heart hammering in his chest, desperate for air.

You meet him — or, first experience him in a similar fashion: he had been in the university library, standing on top of a creaky, old bookshelf, shouting something you couldn’t understand over the music blasting through your headphones. You could certainly see him though, gesturing animatedly, dressed eccentrically in his signature winter trapper hat and a velvet blazer. That thin, effeminate figure of his was making winding, marionette-ish steps along the wood, an action that had everyone readying themselves to catch his inevitable fall.

Then, seemingly out of nowhere and catching you completely off guard, you caught his eye. He began stepping from one shaky shelf to the next, a complete miracle none of them toppled over, before stopping on one close enough for you to read his lips.

“Hi,” he mouthed, shifting uneasily on his left foot before regaining a steady balance, “you’re in my class, right?”

You nodded, hesitantly— yes, truthfully, you’d seen him in your Introduction to Literary Studies course a couple of weeks ago, sporting the same outfit as he did now, but you thought nothing of him. He’d been generally well-behaved then, asking slightly odd but in-tune questions that more or less answered all your inquiries, so you didn’t think the guy would have a penchant for, well… book-shelf hopping.

He grinned, about to say something else, before something — or someone, made him flinch. A professor, probably, considering the unintelligibly muffled, booming voice behind you. However, Jonathan made quick work of the situation, sneakily climbing down and escaping out the door.

The next time you see him, he’s sidled up beside you in your shared class. “Mind if I sit here?” a familiar voice had asked, to which you murmured a non-committal knock y’self out, before realizing with wide eyes. His presence had caught you off-guard, as he so often did, and you sensed a pattern blooming.

Jonathan certainly made for an odd desk-partner; his personality warped the environment around you, and it was suddenly so much easier to tear your eyes away from the lecture and land on Jonathan’s own. It’s something you never thought you’d ever do, because you adore the material being taught.

At the end of class, he asks you out for a drink: he’s just found the best Irish stout in the entire city, and what better way to make it known than to take anyone and everyone he knows there?

Rejection is written on your face clear as day— you have class tomorrow, an essay that needs to be finished, and honestly, pubs just aren’t really your scene.

But in the end… you still bite. You can’t help it: he’s disarming and warm and looks like he should smell like a bonfire. Somehow, that just does it for your brain; it’s here you learn of the charm that is Jonathan Breech.

That night goes everything and nothing like you expected: you expected not to be able to predict his actions, and that’s exactly what happens. When you meet Jonathan at the aforementioned pub, it’s not actually the one he’s meaning to take you to— it’s just the closest public place to the on-campus dorm, which is where he says he’s rooming.

“‘ve got a neighbor m’pretty sure is trying to sleep with me,” he says absently, ushering you onto the back of his bike, which had been leaning against a NO PARKING sign. “He’s always toget’er wit’ our dorm advisor, so I should l reject him before I get kicked out, if y’get what I mean.”

Now, you honestly should’ve expected this from a guy who jumped from six-foot book shelves, but Jonathan’s biking is all swift turns and jilted stops, mere milliseconds from repeatedly running red lights. You want to ask if he just learned how to ride the thing yesterday, but can’t, not with how utterly reckless and shameless he is about it, his terrible steering making you instinctively wrap your arms around his chest.

You clutch him tightly, making him hum in approval, and you feel your ears burn flusteredly. You would’ve pulled away, but then he cut from the right lane to the left in one swift move, barely missing several cars, and you practically shrieked instead. “Oh my god!”

“Sorry,” he apologizes quickly. You can’t see his face, having shut your eyes in fear, but after hearing the blatant cheekiness in his tone, you can imagine clear as day how gleefully it contorts. You want to slap him somewhere, anywhere, but that’d defeat the point of being mad at his recklessness, so you squeeze him tighter instead, and he chokes on his breath. “Jesus-- m’sorry, really!”

When the two of you make it to the pub — alive and uninjured! — annoyingly all the way across town, your first few steps off his bike are stuttered, dizzy: “We are-- not going by bike next time,” you gasp, leaning against a random brick wall.

“Next time, eh?” He grins, and this time you really do slap him— just on the arm, bless your self-control and niceties not to beat this oddly comfortable-to-be-around near-stranger to death.

The pub, with its forgettable name and dingy stools, has a minimal, lackluster crowd. A kitschy neon sign flickers and dies as you walk in, making you raise a brow, but Jonathan merely drags you by the arm to a cozy corner table, then disappearing deeper within the venue before returning moments later with two pints of black beer in tow.

“Go on, then,” he gestures, setting the tall glass on the table, sitting down in the chair in front of you and taking a hearty sip of his own drink.

You let out a little hesitant sigh at his words, before relenting and taking in a long gulp of the liquid. “…Huh,” you remark, impressed. Jonathan smiled knowingly behind his glass, letting out a smug little ah, you see?

“Worth the long ride?” he inquired innocently, as if that was the only thing wrong with the night.

“Worth the ride, but not worth almost dying for,” you rolled your eyes goodheartedly, knocking back the rest of the bitter drink and making him whistle.

The rest of the night goes like this: Jonathan orders two more rounds of the quality Irish stout before the two’ve you are stumbling out of the pub, exploring all the nightlife there is to offer, like the crowd surrounding an out-door live comedy group performing down the street that has you and Jonathan giggling for hours after, or the underground speakeasy you accidentally find yourselves shoved into, a nasally guitarist singing on a smoky stage, several more drinks finding themselves in your system despite how nauseous you already feel.

“You-- d’you fancy him?” Jonathan slurs behind you, steadying himself by pressing his hands to your waist.

“F-fancy who?” you blink blearily, leaning into his warm touch.

“Who else m’I talkin’ about, girl? The singer!”

You shake your head no numbly, practically collapsing into his arms now, your head lulling on his chest. You’re so close you can smell the distinct scent of his skin, that unique musk everyone has, and it’s strangely familiar, like those smells that evoke old, nostalgic memories. It’s like how sunscreen summons the smell of the sun after a childhood beach day, or how vanilla extract takes you back to the smell of your mother’s baked goods on a specific winter evening.

“Reckoned you wouldn’t,” he assumes, hands coming away from your waist to wrap his arms around your shoulders, swaying to the music slightly in the crowded club, “looks like a -- right bleedin’ dope… wit’ that mop of hair.”

You giggle, alcohol riddled beyond belief, unable to formulate a response with the conflicting blurry thoughts in your head: it’s telling you Jonathan Breech isn’t the crowd you want, that you need to go home and work, that you let loose too easily— but it also tells you that you can see yourself becoming friends with him very, very quickly.

It’s there, in that club, Jonathan Breech moves into your life and fills a gaping hole you didn’t know existed, like a hole in your stockings you only notice when you get home. You have friends, certainly, more than you can count on both hands, but they never get as close as Jonathan does. After that night, an unknown force pulls the two of you together, making you run into him everywhere, and a tight friendship blooms like a lilypad in a raging storm; beauty within the chaos. In the multitude of close friendships you’ve harbored, he is the first to see so many sides of you. The last thing that did was your mother; it had only ever been your mother.

He is an endearing, amazing friend, both the intent listener and the charismatic speaker all at once; he knows his friends like the back of his hand, can recount their life like he can count the number of moles on his face-- but you, and everyone else, know absolutely nothing about him.

At least, close to nothing-- you know he likes ice cream and hanging out and going to the pub; you know he likes biking and doing drugs and women; you know he hates the sea and his brother and his father, but you don’t know him. All you’ve ever seen him do is smile or laugh or shout in mock anger; there is a carefully glued mask on his face he takes meticulous caution in preserving-- he is terrified to let go, despite the blasé persona he lets on.

Or maybe the mysterious matter of your bestfriend is tripping you up for no reason; maybe you’re psychoanalyzing something that doesn’t need to be psychoanalyzed, reading between lines that don’t exist. But if you were asked to answer honestly, there’s just something about Jonathan you don’t get. There is a split seam in the tapestry of his life, missing pieces in the story he pretends to tell with utmost accuracy. There are things that he never talks about, that he recoils when asked like you’ve poked a tender wound.

“So, what were you doing before… all this?” You ask him once, laying on his messy bed in his dorm-room and scanning the water-damage constellations dotted along his popcorn ceiling. By all this you mean going to university, being the resident party boy, aimlessly pursuing a degree you’re 99% sure he picked blindfolded (culinary science) and standing here, with you, snorting a line of something on his creaky wooden desk.

Jonathan freezes, still hunched over. “What d’you-- what d’you mean?” he says, tone breezy but, uncharacteristically tense… jilted and preoccupied. You could’ve brushed it off as him being seriously focussed on his drugs, but the way he shifts, how his shoulders curl in like he wants to disappear, tells you otherwise.

“I mean, before going to school here… y’know, what were you like as a dumb teenager?”

You two’re twenty, barely not-teenagers, but it still makes a world of a difference: you’re living away from home, doing what you want, experiencing (a juvenile, naive version of) freedom and adulthood.

“I dunno… kind of a tool, that's f’sure,” he chuckled, rubbing his nose roughly. He’s being funny on purpose, a jester’s distraction: he doesn’t want you to realize his answers’ not really one at all.

You shifted on his bed, now leaning against his headboard. His answer strikes you as odd and uncharacteristic despite his attempts to evade suspicion: usually, Jonathan pounces at the chance to yap on and on. “What, the great Jonathan Breech doesn’t have any wild stories to tell? No bones broken, girls dumped, houses trashed?”

He snorted at that, like some inside joke you weren’t privy to was brought up in your words, and he descended back down on a carefully partitioned line of white. “I broke my baby finger once,” he relented vaguely when he finished, dusting off the table and licking the remains off his hand. “I cried and I cried and I cried.”

“Did it hurt that much?” you grinned, mind trailing off to imagine a baby-faced Jonathan Breech, a juvenile highschool boy, doing something silly to break that finger. Maybe he accidentally flung off his bike, broke it because of a dare, or maybe it happened just by slipping and falling.

“It - uh… didn’t hurt enough,” Jonathan smiled, tight-lipped and paltry. All at once the air in the room had changed, like someone attached a vacuum to the window and sucked everything out.

Your grin fell, and you watched him carefully: perhaps, had you not been as close to him as you were, he’d have let something show. A twitch in the smile, a break in the facade. But you were, and his face stayed the same, and your thoughts ran circles around themselves. This was… something else, something belonging to the part of his life he didn’t talk about.

The atmosphere had grown tense, taut, a rubber band twisted ‘round and round, threatening to burst, so you leave the matter of his injury alone; of his life alone. You go back to staring at his ceiling, he goes back to his drugs; Jonathan collapses within himself, and you don’t notice how badly he suffocates… how suffering in silence is also accompanied by the overwhelming desire to be found.

ii.

Sometimes, despite his self-imposed distance, Jonathan lets someone look inside his head.

You are both the sometimes and the someone; you don’t know why it’s always you, but you chalk it up to the fact that beneath his unpredictable demeanor, the murky and unreadable feelings he holds for others, is this uncharacteristic constant: he holds a softness for you. It’s what lets you know there’s something haunted lurking beneath his happy-go-lucky surface.

You don’t know where this softness comes from, either. But you know you see it, in lingering touches, tender duchenne smiles unlike the devilish tilt his lips usually hold, how he clasps his hand around yours after a night at the pub and walks you home because he knows you get paranoid. You see it in how he comes over to your apartment when you don’t answer anyone's calls during exam season, how he remembers what your mother’s name is and what your childhood pet was and what your favorite flowers are. How his lips brush past your cheek when he pulls away from hugs, his hands shuddering around your shoulders, like he’s afraid he’ll crush you.

You only wish you could do the same. You want to sit by his side and mend his heart, lend an ear to his most mundane fears, you want to take his hand into your own and kiss it softly, return all that he has done for you, take the same as you have given to him: what is friendship if it is not equal, what is love if it is not returned? It is something broken, unable; split halves of one heart, an imbalance in the scale, Bonnie without her Clyde, a fish out of water.

Jonathan pours his heart into your own, filling holes you know you don’t have, and you think he may be overcompensating for something else, seeing things in you that really belong to him. It is maddening, and you just want to beg and plead he lets you in.

But you settle for the gentle pokes, the prodding, and try to decipher the vague answers he gives you. Most days, you can’t really make sense of it.

“Sorry,” you apologize, about to leave the outing you planned with Jonathan — studying, or, trying to study, at an intimate coffeebar the two of you frequented — “my dad’s gotten drunk with his lads and my mum needs help dragging him home.”

“Hey, hey, don’t worry. I get it: my dad used to do that all the time,” he waves your words off casually, but you don’t miss how jilted he says used to and the pain in his tone at all the time.

“Oh, surely she was fit to go to the madhouse?” you laughed once, responding to Jonathan’s complaints about an eccentric classmate in his agricultural studies. He laughs back, he always does, but this one is hollow, forced; barely stopping a grimace from coloring his tone.

You notice these things like it’s a shadow following someone in the sun. He is lying, hiding; about something you don’t know but it is happening. It is happening, and you are so very curious: you pick up on the littlest tendrils of him, fed wholly on any information you can squeeze out. He is a mystery you want to delve within completely; answer that question of WHO ARE YOU REALLY? and leave no room for error.

You’d give yourself to him the very same if he merely asked; you’d whisper childhood fears and tell the origin stories of faded scars on your knees and why you check under your bed before sleeping. You’d detail your entire life from sunset birth to starry night end if he even made a passing comment about knowing; you would trust your love, your heart, your entire life in his beautiful, shaky hands. This is the relationship you have built around yourselves, and it is beginning to feel terribly one-sided.

Alas, your curiosity overwhelms him, and you take it too far, just once. Only once.

“Where’d this come from?” you murmur, brushing your fingers over a scar above his eyebrow. It’s something you see only now, his hair mussed and wild from the various blankets and pillows on your dinky couch.

He’s crashing at your apartment tonight, an invited event, because you often miss him like you miss home; the boy is sneaky— he slinks away like a street cat and only comes back for food. It’s only fair he lets you wrangle him back like this, making him stay by your side at least once a week.

Your words make him freeze, like he often does; it reminds you of hikers, who freeze when they see mountain lions— he thinks if he stops and stares and pretends to disappear you’ll look the other way, drop the question, forget him completely.

But you don’t. You don’t know what’s affecting him -- not that he wants you to -- so you just stare back into his cornflower blue eyes. You stop and stare and see right through him; you hold the question like a knife to his neck, and commit him to memory.

“The scar?” Jonathan pales, shuddering despite it having long since been healed over. The aftershocks of an earthquake.

You simply nod, fingers pulling away. You’re still closer than ever though, the two of you being the only things in your cramped concrete apartment, the chosen movie on your telly still running and long forgotten.

Your attention remains on him, brandished into something dangerous, like you’ll carve the answer out of him if you have to— but the moment passes. He doesn’t say anything and you accept that as the answer. Gone is your razor-sharp focus, and there is nothing more to the matter.

But Jonathan doesn’t register this, no, he’s thinking, gears in his head turning and creaking. His tongue grazes against the backs of his teeth, jaw chattering like it was as cold as it was when… as cold as it was back then, and he doesn’t want to tell anyone— but it’s you. You’re not just anyone.

You’re the one he holds a certain softness for. The one he equally bares his heart to and holds the most secrets from. The one he’s most terrified to know. The only one he wants to know.

So, he decides to tell a partial truth— something digestible. People adore that which can easily slide down the gullet: news headlines don’t detail the goriness of a murder, they give the “insider” scoop of the scared neighbor. To be able to digest information is what makes the world go round, and he does not think you could digest the full truth-- he does not think he wants you to.

He feels ill at the thought of anything between you changing— oh, how ruined he’d feel if you began treating him like fucking glass.

This abhorrent social pressure is what makes Jonathan grit this sentence through his teeth: “I got into a car accident,” he gulps dry, “when I was nineteen. Was drunk… went fer a spin. I skidded off a -- um, an empty highway. The tall sorts; high up, y’know. Fell.”

His voice makes you look back up at him, and your eyes are beautiful and tense— it breaks his heart. He knows you’re probably thinking it was in-character, how expected that is of Jonathan Breech, how you’ll easily take this partial truth, how you’ll never know the full one until it comes in a letter under your door and he’s long gone.

“Tell me,” you ask him, lips falling into a near-frown instead of laughing or grinning wider. It’s hushed, whispered like a secret, “What did it feel like? Falling, I mean.”

Jonathan licks his lips, bores his shaking gaze into your own, and tells you not everything feels like something else. That the word connotes all you need to know. Falling meant he was falling; his arms raised and the air took him and that was it.

It makes your brows twist and your lips press into a thin line: his nonchalance is worrying, no more his signature characteristic— there is something wrong about this apathy toward injury, toward the potential death.

“Is that how you broke your finger?” You murmur, and it startles him. How you pieced the two things together, how you weaved a web from what little you knew about him; how futile his attempts to hide could be.

“What?” he responds, hoarse. There is a lurking shadow in his bones telling him he’ll taint you, telling him to be ashamed, telling him how badly you will never be his. It is such a damning reality, that no matter how much he may yearn for you, he is too incomplete to meet your needs; he is too hurt not to hurt you too.

“The car accident. Is that how you broke your pinkie?” you repeat, and you gripped his hand resting at your side, bringing it up to present the finger to him like he forgot where his pinkie was.

Jonathan’s gaze darts from you to the finger, and he feels his insides quiver; so badly does he want to spill his entire soul to you. But that internal reminder -- hurt people hurt people hurt people -- makes him settle for nodding, parted lips locking closed.

Nothing special happens that night, no shocking revelation or bombarded confession; Jonathan nods, keeps his lips sealed, and gets up from the couch, figure dreary and fatigued. He murmurs an incomplete excuse, something half-baked and blatantly unconvincing that he has to leave, and you let him go. You think you’re imagining the shudder in his shoulders, the shake in his voice as he says goodbye, and you let him go.

It’s there, like that club so long ago, you discover another thing about Jonathan Breech: push too far and he shuts down, closes shop and puts up his guard forever. It’s the mere fact of how attentive you are to his words; you remember how he broke his finger, and he realizes he cannot hide from you any longer.

You’re reaching a point in your friendship -- your relationship, no matter platonic or romantic for all lines have been crossed; nobody is so raw to one another with love not involved -- where you’ll bare your hearts on your sleeves, share your every thought and dream and fear. But Jonathan won’t be able to reciprocate, and the very thought of rejecting you, betraying you, makes his stomach twist in knots. That crestfallen face of yours would haunt him for all time, your every melancholy feature burning into his memory like the scars left by cigarettes on skin.

So he leaves, hurt people hurt people hurt people echoes in his ears all the way home; he turns into an alleyway shortcut and prays death swoops down and takes him right there. He leaves his consciousness curled lovingly in your arms; his shell walks home and prays you’re none the wiser. But you’ve already reached that point in your relationship; you already know.

When people die, or friendships do, sometimes they end with just a goodbye, a mild, casual goodbye because you think there’ll be dozens, hundreds more-- but there won’t be. Suddenly, alone in that cramped apartment, the buzzing from the tv filling your ears, your couch still warm from someone long gone, you know.

You know you startled him, that he’s left your apartment and he’ll never come back. Your heart cools, and she whispers that you took it too far, that you crossed a line you were never made aware of, that when you see him in class tomorrow he might not sit next to you, he might not talk to you, that you might lose him forever because he is too stubborn to open up and you are too stubborn to let him go.

Well, you were too stubborn to let him go.

It’s three weeks before you speak to Jonathan again. Three long, dragging weeks, moments in time where he avoided your gaze, evaded your presence, slipped past you before you got too close. You certainly try, of course— you seek him out every chance you get, trying to get an I’m sorry, please talk to me out before he runs off, but it’s virtually impossible.

Once, after class, you’d caught him in the middle of a flurry of exiting students by the velvet blazer, your hands curled around the lapel. “Jonathan,” you panted, trying to drag him off to the side to escape the bustling activity around you, “please, we need to talk--“

But then Jonathan had faced you, eyes widened and spooked like he’d seen a ghost, a never-before-seen-by-you fear covering his gracefully cut features, before he tugged off the black blazer and escaped into the crowd. He had seen you, widened his eyes, left. Such a simple action tore your heart in two; it had confirmed your suspicions— you’d gone too far, he was never coming back, and you were all alone. There you stood, fingers wrapped around one of his favorite articles of clothing starkly without its beloved owner, completely alone.

In three measly weeks, he has put up a biting winter of distance between you two.

Your feelings are unable to comprehend themselves— they fight and sob and run circles around your mind, they make you doubt, crumble, devour yourself from the inside out; they make you ask yourself what you can do to salvage this, what can you do to fix this? What is there to make of him, of his behavior; what do you do with yourself and this guilt?

If you could imagine time was a construct, you were certain you could convince yourself this stretch of time was nothing… propel yourself into a present where Jonathan does not afflict your mind, take over your every thought— does not ruin you like so. If only you could do that, you could close your eyes and reopen them when you’ve let go. But you were always too stubborn to let him go, weren’t you?

It’s three weeks to the day before you speak to Jonathan again, and it happens through the crack of his dorm door, your arm wedged through it because you know he is not cruel; he will let you in without a doubt.

“Please,” you plead to Jonathan, “just— I just want to talk. Please?”

He stares at you straight, expression cold and reserved, before he breaks and pulls away; bites his lip, lets you in his room, doesn’t look you in the eye. Looking around, you sense something in his dorm has changed; it had gained a bereft quality, like it was attuned to Jonathan’s state of mind and felt depressed beyond your comprehension. There was a cold air to the place, an utmost frigid demeanor to a room incredibly warm just weeks prior. In your absence, the dorm had been neglected, gutted, abandoned.

“I’m sorry,” are the first words that tumble out of your mouth. “I- I know you don’t like… talking about -- about your life before here, and I’m sorry. But please, Jonathan, just talk to me. Tell me what I can do to make it up to you.”

He sits down on the edge of his weak bedframe, pulling his knees up and pressing his face into them. “You don’t need to-- don’t… don’t apologize. You don’t need t’make it better, either. All’s grand.” he promises, words muffled and shaky. It’s a weeping kind of tone; you could just as easily imagine him sobbing with that voice.

Your brows knit. Your emotions are wavering, treading brutally between disbelief, despair and rancor. “Then -- then why?”

“Why what?”

“Why did you avoid me? Why did you - why did we spend these last three weeks playing cat and mouse, if you weren’t mad at me? Is this your sick idea of a joke?”

“No! I-- jesus christ,” Jonathan looked up from his hands before immediately pressing two fingers between his eyes, “I wasn’t … avoiding you.”

“I haven’t seen you in weeks!” you point out painfully, exasperated. “You know, you’ve been avoiding me for longer than this. You— you push me away any chance you get. You’re afraid. I don’t know of what, but you’re- so fucking secretive, and it’s tearing me apart.”

“I’m not - afraid of anything. I’m just a private person— you know this. Would you, if I ‘pushed you away?!’”

At his denying deflection, something within you snaps: “Why won’t you - fucking let me in? I’ve — I’ve bared my soul to you; you know me from the inside out. I trust you with my life— why, why can’t you do the same?”

“I didn’t ask you to do that! And I didn’t — I didn’t mean t’get so close to you, okay?!” He bursts, and you flinch. His hands shakily come up to his face once more; he wipes roughly but it’s no use— you’ve already seen his delicate tears threatening to spill, and it burns more holes in your heart than you thought his suffering would.

“What are you talking about?” you pry, now without any cautious reservations about his demeanor.

“I didn’t mean to get so fucking attached, because - ‘cause I…” Jonathan’s hands clenched into fists at his sides, “fuck.”

“What?” you repeat, but it’s softer, concerned; how quickly his body language shifted from irritated to terrified has you scrambling to support him. “Talk to me,” you ask, taking nervous steps closer, like you were approaching a wounded animal.

He sucks in a sharp breath, and holds it, like he did cigarette smoke, before exhaling heavily. “Okay- okay. When I was - nineteen, I drove a car… I drove off a cliff and tried t’kill myself. I was-- admitted to a psychiatric hospital for a year, and when I got out I moved here f’school. I- I… promised m’self I wouldn’t let anyone get too close.”

The confession hangs in the air, a lonely little thing; it’s a bleeding piece of his own heart he’s plucked and placed in your palms. He shudders, and you want to nurture it like nothing else. This is a culmination of a year’s worth of evasion coming to a close; you’re seeing him completely, rawly, for the first time.

“But- but why? You don’t have to— Jonathan, you don’t need to do that just because you - you… y’know.”

“I’m- I know that,” he starts brashly, defensively. “It’s b’cause I am very, very aware of my - of m’own self destructiveness…” His words taper off into something of grief; the Sisyphean struggle of wanting to live, while that depressive boulder pushes him back, colors him completely. “I just… I didn’t want to - t’hurt anyone in case I -- in case next time I succeeded.”

“Next time?” you repeat, and your voice broke in a way you wish was less vulnerable, less blatantly miserable.

“This is why I didn’t want to—“ Jonathan sighs, deflates, “I’m not telling you this because I want you to - t’fucking save me, okay? I’m telling you this because you wanted to know, and I couldn’t hide from you anymore. Because you asked.”

“You didn’t need t’hide it in the first place!” you exclaimed, coming closer to him. “You’ve never had to hide a fucking ‘ting from me.”

“You wouldn’t have understood!” He said back, volume nearing a shout. “You’ll treat me differently now, you see, you’ll look at me fuckin’ different—“

It made your heart sink-- how sure his words were, how certain he was of your rejection. How little trust did he have in you?

(You remember he wanted to sink, too-- lose himself in the baby blue sea; let it swallow him whole and never be seen again.)

“You - you really think I’ll treat y’differently because of this? You know my every crevice, my every thought-- I have never once doubted that you’ll accept me.”

“I-I… why should I - expect any of this to stay the same?”

Suddenly, you took his face into your hands. “Because I-- I fucking love you, okay? And it’s not just friendly, or romantic, even if it’s both— I’m… I love you like nothing I’ve ever loved before. I accept and adore your every skill and flaw and antic; you wormed your way into my heart and I want to worm my way into yours.”

“That doesn’t mean—“ Jonathan tried to interject, a noise all utter disbelief. You cut him off, though, continuing your sudden confession; you hadn’t been privy to these own romantic feelings of yours till moments prior, but everything being said just felt right.

“Jonathan, I don’t care if you drove a car off a cliff or cyanide-poisoned our professor or blew something up, because I love you. You, with all your problems and great, big, beautiful life. All I want is for you to want that life; I want you to want me in it. I feel it in my bones that I’m meant to love you; you are meant to be my home, you are everything I am supposed to know. It won’t fix you or fix anything at all but I just need you to know-- I need you to know the why to my every action. It’s because I love you.”

He looked up at you, wide-eyed, head resting in your gentle hold. “I - don’t know what to say… are you - for real?”

“As real as can be,” you smiled back at him, tracing circles along his smooth skin; you could’ve drank in that attentive stare of his for hours upon hours. “I love you, and nothing and no-one, not even you, can change that.” An aching grip had clenched around your heart at his words, that blatant disbelief: are you for real? God, had you ever been-- had you ever fucking been.

Jonathan’s mouth opened to speak, but instead, he let out an agonizing sort of cry; an exclamation of utter surprise at the loving acceptance. Then, he hesitantly leaned into your touch, as if he’d never hugged before, wrapping his arms around your waist to snatch you as close to him as possible. He held you tighter and tighter as the seconds went by, like this was all a mocking dream his yearning mind had made up; that if he closed his eyes now he’d wake up desolate, alone, without you for eternity. His worst nightmare.

“…God, I’m so - fucking stupid,” he grumbled, sounding angry, but you could feel vulnerable, hot tears soaking into the fabric of your shirt. “To assume you, of all people, would act that way… you of all people.” He said that tenderly; you of all people certainly meant miles more things you weren’t explicitly aware of, but you still felt the sentiment. “I’m not -- poetic or anything like that… but I love you, too.”

You chuckled a beautiful, wet laugh. “You don’t hafta’ say anything sweet or special. You’re everything to me.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, before wrapping his fingers around your wrist and pulling you onto the mattress with him. He flipped you beneath him, and held himself up by the forearms laying on either side of your head. “Fuck, I love you. I love you.” Jonathan repeated the words several more times, strange and foreign but right at home being said to you. Like his mouth was made to only ever say I love you to you.

Suddenly, you pressed your lips to his, shutting him up momentarily. You could still feel the vibrations of I love you rumbling in his throat as you kissed him. Your tongues danced along one another, an all consuming waltz; you wanted to know everything about him, down to the taste of his tongue, memorize how sweet his mouth felt on yours. Oh, how you longed for this moment; how could you ever think about love again, and yearn for it, without thinking of Jonathan?

You reckoned that’s what this had been the whole time; your love started as a little flame, something under the guise of friendship, but the two of you had fanned it, nurtured it-- all of a sudden the miniature warmth of platonic love burst into a raging, adoring fire. You’d fed this flame with tenderness, and it responded in kind; you could never again look at Jonathan without a certain intimate reverie. Perhaps that’d been why Jonathan found it so hard to cut off this relationship as he had dozens others: something primal and unconscious within him had begged him not to let you go— some higher being knew his home was only ever in your arms.

Jonathan deepened the kiss hungrily, pressing his weight onto you and pushing you into the mattress. Your head was spinning from the lack of air, and one of your hands had to sneak beneath his hat and tug at his hair to get him to stop. “Hey,” you panted, looking worriedly into his eyes, “what’s up?”

“Sorry,” he apologized sheepishly, hanging his head lowly for a moment before meeting your gaze once more, batting his long lashes. “Jus’ missed you. Thas’ all.”

“Missed y’too,” you murmured, pulling him back down to kiss you again. Your hands left the crown of his head and trailed down his backside, tracing over the curves and bumps of his frumpy yellow v-neck sweater.

That touch of yours seemed to spur him on even more, and his kisses began to travel; along your jaw, to your pulse, down the long ravine of your neck, tongue darting out to lick the hollow of your collarbone, making you squeal. He chuckled against your skin, a genuine amusement rather than the mocking one you two so frequently practiced, and it all went downhill from there. His hands skillfully tugged off your tank top, knee between your clenched thighs, more teasing kisses being planted along your now bare -- save for your bra -- chest.

You didn’t mean to come over, profess your love and suddenly jump into a steamy, yearning makeout session (which, you were pretty sure was venturing off into sex…) but you supposed that apologizing— arguing, whatever —meant your relationship went back on track to wherever it was heading… which may have been set to end with an ardor romance anyway. This love of yours would’ve bursted at the seams of friendship; it could not be confined by such mere things as labels.

“Fuck,” you groaned, arching into his teasing kisses along the peaks of your breasts, his hands ghosting around your clothed chest but never touching. “Please, Jon.”

You could feel his cheeky grin on your skin, “Tell me what you want, love.”

“…Take this off,” you demanded gently, referring to Jonathan’s sweater.

“Your wish is my command.” he snickered, obliging and removing the yellow knit-- as well as his white undershirt and pajama bottoms. He was left in a pair of boxer-shorts and that silly, silly winter-trapper hat, his fingers sneaking up to your supple thighs and tickling the edges of your jean-shorts; a silent plea.

“Eager,” you mumbled, noticing his over-compliance in completely stripping, smiling and guiding his hands to the waistband of your shorts to tug the tight article off.

When he did so, you shivered, both at the feeling of being only in your underwear, as well as Jonathan’s sharp, attentive gaze. “You’re so beautiful,” he panted, eyes exploring your every sweet feature.

He was enamored with your bare body, not in a sexual way despite the blatantly sexual situation, but rather in a worshiping, religiously devoted way. It may’ve been blasphemous to think so, but Jonathan’s sudden chaste kisses along the curve of waist only seemed to prove you right; his mouth on you was gentle, like he’d held you before, except now without any guilt or hesitation. It was a holy way of loving you; something all-consuming, becoming the epicenter of a life, becoming the purpose, motivation, and belief all at once.

That familiar broiling in your gut occurred as he made his way closer to the pulsing, lace-covered place between your legs; your hands were gripping the sheets tightly in pure anticipation, his hot breath on your sensitive skin. “Don’t be such a tease,” you pouted, legs fumbling for purchase along his body, trying to pull him closer to you.

“We’ve got all the time in the world,” he hummed, but his fingers still curled into the band of your baby-blue panties and dragged them down in one desperate go, “but I do wanna taste you….”

Jonathan’s veiny hands pried your quivering thighs apart, murmuring an offhand already stole y’panties, don’t get all shy on me now when you whimpered flusteredly, before he descended on your dripping lips, licking a flat-tongued stripe up to your clit.

You gasped at the sudden action, but it quickly morphed into a choked moan when he pressed himself further and parted your lips, nose to your pelvic bone; he made quick work of you, artfully curling his long tongue into your hole and slurping your slick.

“So sweet,” he praised, the vibrations of his voice making your thighs clench around his head. He hummed in amusement at your reaction, lapping you up quicker; he kitten-licked and slobbered, feeding on your sticky cunt, tongue darting in every direction, feeling your walls and prying deeper into your hot hole, which ached for the cock straining against the mattress now. The bottom half of Jonathan’s face was now positively soaked, glistening with his own drool and your needy wetness, all of it mixing dirtily and sliding down the length of his neck.

“Jon!” you mewled, hands tearing off his trapper hat and flinging it elsewhere before curling your hands into his mousy brown hair and pushing his face deeper into your pussy, desperate to come. You were riding his face now — or, attempting to, more accurately bucking up into him — adoring his unceasing ministrations. He was basically fucking you with his tongue, overstimulating your clit with teasing licks then pulling away, feeling along the ridges of your walls.

“Pick m’hat up later, love,” he tutted, pulling away slightly to see where you’d haphazardly thrown it, and your desperate whine neared a sob. He breathed in sharply, taking in how quickly he’d undone you: in a matter of minutes, your expression had grown wanton, eyes blown out, drooling, hair askew, bra riding up your tits and revealing your sweet, puffy nipples.

Jonathan quickly forgot about the state of his beloved hat, and went back down on you, mouth devouring in full force once again. You rolled your hips forward, and when he pulled his tongue out of your wet hole to suckle softly on your fleshy nub, your eyes rolled back into your head and your legs shook around his face, toes curling tightly. A choked moan left you alongside the sudden climax, sounding a hundred percent pornographic and all for him.

You panted, silent and unmoving for a moment, and Jonathan began moving to get up and let you take a breather before continuing, absolutely terrified to push you too far or do anything you didn’t want to do— he was the spontaneous one, and you were the responsible one, but that didn’t mean he ever wanted to force anything upon you. His simultaneous decisions were made mostly in part with your interests in mind; he made the decisions you were too nervous and over-thinking to choose quicker.

However, you took a long breath, then trailed your hand over the painfully noticeable bulge within his soft boxers. “Wan’… make you feel good,” you murmured, flattening your hand against his erection.

Jonathan inhaled sharply, pitifully affected by the minor touch but holding back with an incredible amount of self restraint. “I can wait,” he offered sweetly, one of his hands coming up to your flattened hand’s forearm to rub the skin.

You shook your head foggily, cupping him through the fabric, slowly adding friction by sliding your hand up and down.

“S-shit,” he bit his lip, “you want this now, baby?”

You nodded vehemently with a whimper, and to make more of a point, you reached behind and unclasped your bra, tossing it elsewhere on his dirty dorm floor, before beginning to slip off his underwear.

The hand on your arm stopped you, though, in favor of doing it himself and pressing his weight further onto you, your chests flush with one another. You were only able to take in thin breaths, making your head spin, but it also amplified the arousal blooming in your cunt when Jonathan slotted himself at your soaking entrance, collecting his saliva and your slick on his tip.

Before he pushed in, however, his head dipped into the hollow of your neck, plush lips brushing past the shell of your ear. “Is this okay?” he murmured, pressing a wet kiss to your temple.

“Please,” you whined, hands pushing flat on his back to bring him closer to you.

With that, Jonathan slowly buried his length within your cunt, making your breath hitch. “I love you,” he groaned, entering you inch by inch, relishing how your warmth swallowed him whole. “Fuck, I love you so much.”

Your hole was stuffed beyond belief, but Jonathan was gentle with you, caressing your waist with the rough pads of his fingers and massaging you, trying to ease his entrance into something painless. Obviously, with that length and thickness it couldn’t be painless at all, but his attempts helped your mind drift off elsewhere and take some of the attention off the stinging stretch.

After a long moment of ragged breathing, Jonathan cooing words of praise into your neck as he kissed you without moving, you dug your fingers into the skin of his back: “More,” you choked out, the fullness in your cunt now feeling delicious rather than cringeworthy.

He smirked against your skin, “Looks like you’re t’eager one now.”

“Oh, get on with it,” you rasped and he let out a low chuckle, sliding out of your hole before thrusting back in. That first movement already made your hips jerk up into him, back arching. It was like all the warmth in your body had collected in your cunt, leaving you freezing from the tips of your toes to the top of your head, but still with a needy, burning fire in your insides.

Jonathan’s pace was affectionate and rhythmic: you could feel the tenderness in his each and every gentle roll of the hips. It made you feel like the sun, how attentive he was, but he was also so fucking slow. If anything, that had your walls clenching onto him harder than if he hammered into you— that slow build-up of friction was dizzying. You squirmed, cunt clenching and contracting around his smooth thrusts— you wanted to take him within you completely, cause more friction for you were going stir-crazy with this lazy speed.

“F-fuck! Faster, please,” you cried out, unable to take his sensual movements any longer. Your legs were twitching with his patient movements, and you could’ve sworn you saw a cheeky grin on his lips. The bastard— even in sex was he teasing you, wanting to torture you until you gave in to the pleasure and begged him to ruin you.

Sure, this was your first time together, and was going extremely pleasantly and sweetly, but you were actually pretty fond of the idea of letting him pound into you like there was no tomorrow…

At the lewd thought, your walls pulsed around his cock, making him buck up unintentionally, hitting that sweet spot within you. He grunted at the feeling of your tightened cunt, while you cried out his name, pleasure running like a current through your body. Your face was on fire, reminiscent of a raging fever, and your insides were coiling— god, how did his cock just feel so perfect within you?

“Oh,” he grinned in a pant, “found y’spot, didn’t I?”

Jonathan didn’t give you a chance to speak before he pulled out so far his tip was the only thing in your hole, before slamming back in and making your eyes roll to the back of your head. Props to him-- he hit your g-spot with utmost accuracy, and you let out a long, stuttered mewl, scratching at his freckled back, legs twitching. Your wail was almost catatonic, loud and cock-drunk, dripping unabashed, filthy pleasure.

“Makin’ such sweet noises f’me,” he praised huskily, hair sticking to the sweat on his forehead, “fuck, ‘ve gotta hear that again.”

He must’ve noticed your neediness earlier, when he was slow and languid, for the new speed he set was double- no, triple that: his hips were snapping against yours, balls smacking filthily against your lips, left hand pinning your hips down and letting him sink into you faster. Shocks of pleasure tore through you at the sudden increase in speed- he’d inured you so well to the torturously slow pace from earlier that this new frenzied one felt like getting hit by a bullet train. You were overstimulated and needing more of him all at once, practically vibrating with need under his touch.

“I’ve- hnngh- wanted this…” you gasped between moans, “f-for so long…”

“Wanted m’cock?” Jonathan questioned in a hiss, feeling with his every inch how your walls absolutely soaked him. His tone was, obviously, sarcastic, but it still made you feel incredibly lewd.

You shook your head numbly, “Wanted you… I love you, Jon!”

“So fuckin’ beautiful,” he purred, fucking you faster and making you writhe beneath him, “love you s’much.”

Jonathan targeted the spongy, swollen spot deep within your cunt, suddenly filled with a renewed vigor and motivation to make you come as quickly as possible, and he pounded into that one, specific spot, watching how you twitched and squirmed, heavy moans exiting you. He was relentless, hands reaching to hook under your knees and spread you wider.

At the new angle, his cock penetrated you even deeper, fuller, which you thought wasn’t possible with how goddamn full you already felt, but when his thick cockhead brushed up against your cervix you thought you were going to burst. Then, one of his hands came up to your tits to knead the flesh, and you squeaked when he tweaked your soft nipples. He was pawing at your sweet tits, fondling you in a needy, boyish way, like yours were the first pair of boobs he’d ever felt.

“M’close!” you gasped, mind going fuzzy with pure ecstacy. Your skin prickled with goosebumps, cold sweat running down your spine, a terribly stark in contrast feeling to the warmth buzzing under your skin.

“C-can’t last much longer either,” he choked, still pumping in and out of your sticky hole and savoring the feeling of your tight warmness on his long length. He looked absolutely exquisite above you, and you lost yourself in the ethereal picture. Maybe you were in love, or maybe he really was just an empyrean beauty; you took in the sight of his focussed iceberg blue eyes, the cute flush spreading along his pale cheeks and bare chest, how he bit his pink lips to muffle his needy grunts and moans.

Then, you mewled and convulsed around him, your walls spasming and contracting as you came undone, reaching the precipice of your pleasure. That made him fall off the edge— you had tensed all over- all over, and Jonathan couldn’t help how his hips stuttered, knees buckled, cock twitched; he only gave one last, powerful thrust into you before spilling himself inside of you. He painted your soft walls white, and you felt that familiar heat spreading within you; you welcomed it completely, and wanted such warmth to be there forever.

You milked him for every last drop, cunt like a vice grip, and Jonathan gave you another wet kiss, this time on your lips, and your hands wrapped around his neck, allowing you to kiss him back. Your brows knitted at the sour taste of yourself on his lips, but it just made everything feel so real— Jonathan and you had “made love”. It was a phrase you always wrinkled your nose at, feeling uncomfortable and juvenile at the intimacy it entailed, but now you understood it completely.

“I love you,” you repeated for what felt like the hundredth time, unable to say anything else that conveyed what you felt for him.

Honestly, you weren’t sure anything could accurately do so— you felt infinitely about him, your love touching all edges of your mind, heart and soul, filling you completely. You supposed you felt about Jonathan how the sun felt about the moon— without one, there could not be the other.

“I love you-- too,” he responded, pausing in the middle at the aftershocks of your orgasm, which had caused you to tighten around his softening, sensitive cock for a second.

You peered deep into his baby-blue eyes, watching the utter love that coloured them; it was like submerging yourself in a great blue ocean, except you didn’t want to come out, because you knew you wouldn’t drown in those eyes. No, you knew Jonathan would always be there to pull you out.

Speaking of pulling out… Jonathan slipped himself out of you softly, careful not to agitate that first stretch any more than necessary, before collapsing back into your arms. The two of you tangled yourselves in a messy flurry of limbs on his cushy mattress, sweaty and breathy, something that should’ve been terribly uncomfortable but just wasn’t— you swore you could fall asleep anywhere, no matter your own state or the circumstance, as long as you were with him.

Blearily, both your eyes began to droop, until you gave into the familiar presence of deep, dark sleep. It was a dreamless sleep for you, but you had an ever present comfort at his weight on yours, something you could feel even in unconsciousness.

Hours later, in a brisk, shuddering early-morning that you felt all over due to Jonathan’s unruly habit of opening his window at the peak of the day’s hottest weather and forgetting to close it before cold nightfall fell, you awoke to Jonathan watching you carefully, so close you could feel his warm exhales of breath on your cheek.

There was no goodmorning or anything like that, just pure, uninhibited being, reveling in the space you two occupied together. Like you two were the only things left in the world.

When Jonathan noticed you woke up, he shifted, presumably to extract himself from your grip. You stopped him, though, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and bringing him closer to you.

“What did it feel like?” you asked instead, for the last time. You brushed your fingers over his scar, and, knowing exactly what you were asking, this time Jonathan doesn’t flinch away. This time, he leans into your touch: it doesn’t burn, not anymore, and he wants your tenderness to swallow him whole.

You didn’t mean what it actually felt like, of course. You meant, what were you thinking? What have you done, and what will you do to yourself? You meant, I love you.

“It felt like,” falling; not everything feels like something else; I raised my arms and the air took me and that was it-- “it felt like… giving in. Letting my desperation find its purpose. It felt like I’d reached a point of peace… gained clarity after a long stretching, wounded moment came to an end. It felt like becoming something only meant to be talked about in past tense.”

You don’t say anything to that; you know he doesn’t want you to. There’s no need for you to hush or plead or make better, you just need to listen, and love him. He knows you accept him for everything he is, all his flaws and his strengths; he knows your love is all accepting- it veers on saintly.

At your silence, he melts into your arms and you can finally relax; there is an admission in the action, a release, an acknowledgement -- is suffering in silence not also accompanied by the overwhelming desire to be found? -- you have found him, at last, and you will never, ever let go.

You take it too far, just once. Only once. And you let him go just once, only once; never again.

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy smut #jonathan breech #on the edge #jonathan breech x reader #jonathan breech x reader smut #jonathan breech smut #cillian murphy x reader smut

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thinkingaboutjaedyn · 4 days

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fresh out of the salon [k.martin x reader]

prompt: kate gets her hair done after the season ends and you're in love with it

author notes: let me firstly disclaim that i don't know shit about hair outside of black ppl hair 💔 and i hardly know that. secondly, i don't know if kate is a natural blonde with dark roots or a brunette who dyes her hair blonde but im pretty sure she's a natural blonde so.. if she isn't just ignore all the times i call her that. thirdly im still getting kate's personality 🙇🏽‍♀️ so this might not be super accurate to her but whatever. anyways enough yapping, enjoy it.

word of the fic: hair

it was only a few days after iowa's defeat against south carolina. kate was quick to call you when she reached her hotel room; feeling drained from the intense atmosphere during the game and also heartbroken she left her basketball college career off with a loss. you unfortunately couldn't make it due to having to focus on softball season. if iowa had played a home game for the final, you could had comforted your girlfriend afterwards but sadly she was still in ohio; having to do a few promotional shoots for a brand.

having to stay away from you longer than nesscary annoyed the blonde, but money is money so she sucked it up. you two relied on facetime and constant talking to stay connected. your teammates teased you all the time about how you been glued to your phone everytime there was a break at practice, but could they blame you? it's kate we're talking about here.

it's around ten pm when the blonde finally facetimes you. her face being close to the camera once the call connected.

"why am i seeing more of your nose than you, kate?" you giggle. getting comfortable on your bed before putting your attention fully on her. kate makes an obvious pout that you can see very closely with her face almost squished against her phone.

"i want a kiss," the iowa basketball player pulls her face away, not too far, to give you a full look of her lips. you roll your eyes, but internally the cuteness levels going on right now from her were huge. you indulge her before counting down so she was ready to kiss the phone screen the moment you were.

she lays back onto the hotel bed pillows afterwards. a satisfied look on her face; kate was truly the only one who can make you do something as embarrassing as kissing a phone screen. you take in her full appearance now. the blonde had obviously slip on some pajamas after coming to her hotel room from the shoot. a matching hello kitty matching pajama set that you recognized as yours is on her body.

"who said you could take my clothes?" you make a fake angry expression that just makes kate shake her head in amusement. "i did and i'm your girlfriend, so deal with it," kate says.

you roll your eyes before noticing a slight difference with kate. her hair looks slightly different than how it was when she left iowa. the darkish blonde of the player now has nicely done highlights on them. when did kate get her hair done? and why didn't she tell you?

the silence from your side of the line makes kate pout, "talk to me, baby. i missed your voice all day."

a flutter goes through your chest at her words; kate always knew what to say to have you swooning. "you got your hair done!" you say. she giggles, looking away from the screen in shyness. the player wasn't used to someone noticing things about her appearance. it was a new feeling of appreciation that makes kate crave to be near you even more.

"yeah. since i was doing those photoshoots, i thought it would be best to give my hair some new life," kate leaves out the part about how the loss to south carolina made her cry and immediately want to go to the salon to feel new again the moment she left the stadium (in the end only getting her hair done earlier today), but that's a topic for later. two things could be true at once though.

"but no selfies?" it was now your turn to pout. feeling slightly sad that your girlfriend didn't send a selfie your way after the first step she took out of the salon. kate wants to kiss away your pout so badly, but can't; curse nil deals.

"i was going to, baby. don't pout at me, it just makes me miss you even more. i had a photoshoot right after the salon and couldn't really text," kate explains. the pout on your lips disappears with you back to missing her.

"it looks so good on you, babes. makes me wanna kiss you"

"then gimme a kiss. the screen doesn't matter to me," kate puckers her lips up. leaning back close to the screen as you do the same.

you two stay up until twelve. during the rest of the call you keep taking facetime photos of kate because for one, she was just so adorable and for two, her new hair was doing things for you. the highlights really brought out her eyes. you were definitely going to kiss her all over her face when she landed back in iowa.

you tell kate to go off to sleep when the clock strikes one, so she can be well rested for her flight back home tomorrow. she pouts until you agree to fall asleep on the phone; who would say no to that face?

#kate martin x reader #kate martin #wbb x reader

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hopelesslyromanticshark · 29 days

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⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ He Fell First; Literally

content: leo valdez x daughter of poseidon! reader fic warning: lanauage, minor mentions of an ED so if that's something that might trigger you DO NOT READ IM NOT JOKING, author's note: so painfully not canon. i try my best, really i do, but i was not reading those books for memory at 12. i was consuming those books at a rate never before seen, not locking things into my brain. but the fact that i can feel in my bones that it's not super canon accurate makes me want to gorge my eye out but whatevas

y/n was having a pretty crap day. she had been up before apollo allowed the sun to rise, staring blankly over at percy’s side of the cabin. she had been keeping it the same, not shifting the comforter too much or moving his dirty socks from under the bed, knowing he hated when she messed with his stuff. but, every morning, she made sure the dust wasn’t settling. because dust meant more time passed and that thought made her queasy, even though it’s been months.

then, once it was a more acceptable time for her to leave cabin three, y/n had been running around the whole day. she was helping the harpies with breakfast then she had to train some of the younger kids with spears then she helped the hephestus cabin out which left her covered in soot and smelling like a firework. she helped clean out the pegasus stalls, allowing connor and travis to leave early and do as they please. all of that before ten in the morning! she marched her way to breakfast when it was called, putting stuff on her plate to ultimately scrape it all off into the fire, prayers and wishes for percy’s return and safety on loop in her mind. then, she had what chiron liked to call ‘check-ups’ but it was just therapy. she wouldn’t go if he hadn’t threatened to take away her title of camp counselor, something she prided herself on. so, she went, and she lied and said she definitely didn’t cry late at night and she definitely slept through the night and didn’t wake up from nightmares of her little brother contorted in unnatural ways and covered in blood.

leo would say his day was going pretty well, on the other hand. if you ignore the part that his best friend got amnesia, his bully turned into some tornado thing, both of his best friends fell into the grand canyon only to fly back up, and coach hedge was half goat. actually, his day was pretty crap too. now, he was sitting in some chariot thing, with a buff guy that had an inclination for rainbows and a blonde girl that was beyond disappointed by them for just being them. then, another tornado thing showed up, damaging the chariot and sending them rapidly towards the ground, though butch managed to still hold some control. good news was that they were at they’re location, bad news was that landing was going to be a bitch. the blonde girl leaned over the side of the chariot, looking around for someone.

“what are you doing?!” leo called over the rushing wind, looking at her like she was crazy, which took a lot considering the day he’s had.

“saving our lives. what time is it?” she asked, frantically, and leo just continued to stare.

“you’re asking for the time now?!”

“around 11, why does it matter?” piper replied, her grip firm on the side of the chariot.

“because we’re lucky!” the blonde girl replied with a wide grin before cupping her mouth, “y/n!”

“don’t feel very lucky right now,” leo muttered.

y/n marched away from the big house, muttering about the centaur under her breath before hearing a shout for her name. she frowned, looking around and seeing no one. then she looked up, her shoulders sagging as she noticed the chariot rapidly heading towards camp, a familiar blonde leaning over the edge, waving her hands and basically jumping up and down while she called out to y/n.

“annabeth!?” y/n called back, quickly breaking out in a run to get a closer look. she squinted, and noticed one of the wheels was missing.

“oh, gods,” y/n huffed before motioning towards the lake, “butch! go to the lake!”

“the lake? this high up, we might as well just jump off into the ground now,” jason stated, tilting his head at the blonde, annabeth, who seemed rather giddy even though they were most certainly about to die.

“not if the water comes to us,” she replied with a shrug, leaving the three to stare at her.

“oh, she’s cray-cray,” leo grumbled to himself, glancing down at the water that would certainly feel like cement if they jumped. the other blonde stood at the beach, other kids in orange t-shirts beginning to gather and stare.

“you guys have to jump!” y/n called, knowing she couldn’t catch all five of them and the chariot and the pegasus. she knew butch would look out for the pegasus and unclip him so he wouldn’t be injured. but still.

“i will not!” piper insisted, if anything, she tightening her hold on the chariot.

“you will die if you stay on,” annabeth told her, before gripping piper’s shoulders, “you have to trust me.”

“we just met you,” leo argued, causing annabeth to look over her shoulder at him.

“that’s when trust works best,” she reasoned and leo swallowed thickly, as she was starting to convince him.

“annie! running out of time here!” the girl from the beach called nervously.

“okay,” leo breathed out, causing piper to look at him like he’s crazy too.

“leo?!”

“look, if we’re gonna die anyways, i wanna be cool while i do it,” he joked back, like usual, moving closer to the open end. piper took a few more seconds to decide before moving towards him, a false confidence settling over her face.

without another thought, the five of them quickly ditched the chariot, which sent them plummeting towards the water…which seemed to rise to meet them, allowing them to simply slip into the bubbles, no so much as a sting against their skin. then they washed up against the beach, like the ocean was spitting them out. leo coughed up some of the water that managed to invade his lungs, rolling onto his back as he looked up at the sky. a girl’s face intercepted his view, the sun behind her head and hiding her features in shadows. he could make out her golden waves for hair, which were beginning to look like a halo from his view.

“you okay?” she asked, holding a hand out to pull him up.

“just peachy,” he muttered back, getting his arms behind himself and pushing his body into a half seated position. the sun moved from behind the girl’s face to next to it, allowing him to see her features finally. she gave him a soft smile, something like a laugh leaving her lips as she tilted her head at him. all the air squeezed out of his lungs and he felt like he could burst into flames, something he was rapidly trying to get under control.

“you could be having a worse day. i could have been busy,” the girl mused, shrugging her shoulders and leo opened his mouth to reply but the words seemed to die on his tongue, only sounds coming out. the girl giggled, sweetly, and it was like hearing the ocean in a seashell. then, a loud crash interrupted the moment, y/n’s head instantly shooting up and watching the chariot sink into the lake. she winced, quickly rising to her feet as another girl marched to the edge of the water, a shocked look on her face.

“nyssa, nyssa, please don’t freak out! i- i can get it out, promise!” the girl quickly reasoned, following with her hands outstretched like the other girl was a feral beast.

“y/n, we can’t build another one! the curse-”

“doesn’t exist. it’s all mental,” the blonde girl, assumable y/n, muttered in protest, earning her a glare.

“y/n!” nyssa huffed, throwing her hands up.

“i’ll get it out right now,” insisted y/n, raising her hands before another loud crunch was heard, the water rippling with an even louder gurgle. y/n winced again, lowering her hands as nyssa’s mouth dropped in shock.

“it didn’t-”

“it did,” y/n confirmed before nyssa screamed with her mouth closed, marching off. y/n closed her eyes, taking a calming breath before turning to the crowd that had gathered around the new arrivals.

“hey! shoo! nothing to see here,” she joked, waving away the other people in orange, watching them slowly leave, not without a few more glances at the newly found trio. she spun back to the new arrivals, helping piper to her feet before turning to annabeth, pulling her into a hug.

“hey, you!” she cheered before pulling back, noticing the blonde’s discouraged look, “hey, he’s okay. we’d feel it if he wasn’t. go get chiron, yeah? i’ve got this.”

“i know…but, it’s hard,” annabeth whispered back. y/n patted her cheek lovingly before gently steering her away.

“hello! sorry, this is one of the more chaotic ways i’ve seen people come to camp! busy, busy, that’s me,” y/n stated as she approached the three with a welcoming smile.

“i’m sorry, but who are you? why are we here? where even is here?” piper questioned rapidly, still trying to wring the water out of her shirt.

“agh, this is going terribly,” y/n huffed before taking a quick breath, “let’s start over, yeah? i’m y/n l/n. this is camp half-blood, which is a camp for people like us, children of gods and morals. therein lies the ‘half blood.’”

“god? like, god and jesus?” leo questioned, squinting and tilting his head. y/n gave him a soft smile, which caused his bpm to surely spike.

“no, greek gods. athena, poseidon, zeus,” y/n listed quickly.

“jupiter,” jason corrected before he could stop himself, frowning as the word left his mouth. y/n turned to him with a small frown too, tilting her head.

“that…that’s roman…interesting,” she muttered before shaking her head, “sorry. i never asked your names.”

“you apologize a lot. i’m piper mclean,” piper stated, holding her hand out to shake y/n’s already stretched hand.

“sorry,” y/n jokes, winking, causing piper to let out a little laugh. she then turned to jason, who seemed to be deep in thought, before he shook it off and looked at her.

“jason…grace.” he replied, unconfidently.

“you…you don’t seem so sure,” y/n replied, giving his hand a quick shake with a frown.

“i’m not. i’ve- i’ve got amnesia,” he replied, causing y/n’s frown to deepen.

“i’m sorry to hear that. i’ll make sure to tell will. he’s our resident healer, maybe he can figure it out,” y/n told him, giving him a soft smile to which he nodded off, before y/n turned to leo. she had to admit, he’d caught her eyes easily. his curly hair and olive skin, how his hands never seemed to sit still (more so than expected of demigods), the way he smiled at her. but, she’d closed off that part of her heart a long time ago. she didn’t have time for it, she’d tell herself late at night.

“leo valdez. bad boy supreme,” he offered up, causing y/n to raise an eyebrow at him as he briefly shook her hand before flipping it over and pressing his lips against. she rolled her eyes, fighting off a blush.

“if i didn’t know any better, i’d say you're a child of aphrodite,” she replied with a huff, slowly pulling her hand back.

“right back at ya,” leo mused, proudly with a wink.

“down boy,” mocked y/n before turning away and to the other two present, “alright, so i’ll start of the tour of camp half-blood! don't worry, you're gonna love it here!”

you were expert at this tour, sure you could give it blindfolded. you told little anecdotes, even managing to earn you a smile from jason, something you proudly celebrated. you walked backwards as you called out the cabins, pointing with both hands like a flight attendant signaling exits. at least, you thought that's what you looked like. you really had no idea as you've never been flying and probably never would, zeus not exactly a big fan of yours. for such a short tour, quite a lot of claiming went down, something that had you fondly thinking of your brother and not so fondly thinking of luke castellan. you ended your tour at the big house, knowing chiron would be wanting to talk to them, jason especially.

"chiron's gonna take it from here. if you've got any questions, don't be afraid to seek me out!! well, enjoy camp!" y/n mused, clapping her hands before going to walk away but chiron called out to her, ignoring the wide eyed stares he was getting from the trio for being part horse.

"y/n, dear, would you be so kind as to check on annabeth? i worry for her. oh, and will mentioned something about needing help in the infirmary...if you'd be willing," he stated and leo could tell from the minor twitch of her eye that y/n wished she wasn't so willing.

"of course, chrion. when have i ever said no to you?" the girl asked, plastering a smile on her face that clearly took a lot out of her before spinning around on her heels and marching away. and leo's eyes stayed on her, and while they'd typically drift down to her ass, he couldn't bring himself to look downwards as his worry for her overtook his soul.

dinner finally came around, leo sort of following nyssa like a lost puppy. he wasn’t completely sure of himself in this place yet, and nyssa was more than happy to show him the ropes. she grabbed her own dinner, showing him how before one of their other siblings calls for her. she left him and leo glanced around before his eyes settled on a nearby blonde, a smile growing on his lips. he slid in behind her, pretending to be excited over a roll and plopping it down on his plate. y/n glanced over at him, a small smile appearing on her lips before she continued walking and inspecting the food presented to them.

“so, day one. how’s it going?” she asked, sighing as she glanced at the food. her stomach was aching for some food, but her guilt held stronger. Who knows the last time percy had a good meal…or even if he was alive-

“eh. you know, as far as first days in new places go, this isn’t too bad. once got swirly within the first hour of being at a new school,” leo mused, throwing together a random plate of food. y/n laughed lightly, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye as she grabbed an apple.

“give a few hours, the ares kids can smell fresh meat,” y/n joked back, leaning over with a wink before walking away from the food towards her table. leo's lips twitched into a small frown before quickly grabbed a bowl of fruit before following.

“so, are there like clique tables i should watch out for or?” leo prompted, fully expecting to sit with y/n. she looked over at him, her brows furrowing.

“nyssa didn’t tell you? you sit with your siblings. each god and goddess has a table. yours is over there,” explained y/n, pointing over at the hephestus table while still walking towards her lonely table. leo continued to follow, a frown on his lips.

“so…you sit by yourself?” he questioned, the words leaving a bitter taste in his mouth, “a girl like you shouldn’t have to sit by herself.”

“well, i wasn’t always alone…look, these- these are rules, okay? i’m sorry, leo, but you’ve got to sit at your table,” y/n replied, shaking her head as if ridding herself of memories. leo continued to frown before setting the bowl of fruit down on her table and sliding it over to her. she looked up at him, confusion clear on her face.

“you didn’t grab enough to eat,” he explained with a shrug before giving her a salute as he walked back to his table. y/n’s eyes never once left him until he was with his siblings and managed to catch her gaze, the girl promptly averting her eyes and missing the smile that grew on leo’s lips. she looked down at the bowl of fruit fondly before digging in, eating her fill for the first time in months.

“what’s her story?” leo asked over dinner, his eyes trained on y/n as his fork passively stabbed at something on his plate. nyssa looked up from her food at him before following his gaze to y/n.

“who? y/n? ha, you must think highly of yourself,” nyssa scoffed, noting the ways his eyes practically formed hearts. leo sputtered, turning to nyssa with a glare.

“what?”

“she’s got every guy in camp half-blood on her tail. i wish you the best of luck trying to win her over, many people have tried and failed,” nyssa replied with a shrug.

“not what i meant,” leo huffed, returning his eyes to his plate. nyssa looked over at him, frowning.

“what did you mean then?”

“how’d she get here? what’s she like? stuff like that,” leo answered before shaking his head, “look it’s stupid-”

“she’s enigmatic. nicest girl you’ll ever meet, but harsh when she needs to be. she never backs down from anything; she once performed a whole choreographed song and dance during lunch because she lost a bet. poor y/n had to do stall duties for a week after that, but she did it with a smile, telling everyone it was so worth it. y/n l/n is the best of all of us,” nyssa cut in, her words so honest and truthful that leo got sucked in.

“her brother, percy, went missing a few months ago. she lived for him, everything she did was for her brother. technically, they aren’t even full siblings, like you and i. but, they weren’t like that. they became family quickly. she likes to pretend that she’s fine, but everyone knows she’s not. that bowl of fruit…it’s the first thing i’ve seen her eat in a few weeks," confessed nyssa, giving leo a pointed look. he couldn't help the pride that filled his chest at the thought.

and then determination quickly settled into the boys bones. he was determined to make sure she kept eating, three meals a day at least. he was determined to make her laugh, help her find some joy. he was determined to ensure that the daughter of the sea god never saw another cloudy day, not if leo had anything to say about it.

#postcards from covey ౨ৎ #all my love ౨ৎ #hoo #heroes of olympus x reader #leo valdez x reader #leo valdez

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anonymouscheeses · 3 months

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more obvious shit I wanted to point out but it's more than last time uhhh pt.2 (spoilers for dad beat dad and maybe welcome to heaven. Maybe?)

I love that Charlie just randomly goes into demon form sometimes like here ehhehehe. Also can I just say I love Charlie so much?? She is my favorite and I love her especially in this episode because it feels like the same optimistic Charlie but she was just put in a bad situation. I relate to her a bit TOO much, almost down to every detail like wow. You'll understand later once I get there. But just wow...

LOOK AT THIS FUNNY LITTLE MAN. SPOODER DUST <3 also. Live [image] reaction. Someone make that into a reaction image 🙏🙏

HONEY!!! NEW MEME TEMPLATE JUST DROPPED. (Aka the one guy going crazy trying to explain the stuff on the board iykyk)

OMG... THAT CANT BE CHARLIE... NOT CHARLIE'S EMO PHASE PLEASE BAHAHAHHAHAHA (also love that Lucifer has kept it all these years, if Charlie knew I think she'd be extremely embarrassed. Vaggie would love it probably xd)

HE IS SO GOOFY I CANT- I LOVE HIM SO MUCH ALREADY!!! NEED.

Broskie got character development and is NICE?!? I LOVE THAT SMMM YALL.... LOOK AT HIM!! I am very delusional yes, but I will take this over ass development(cough. Vaggie's "story" in ep 3. Cough).

Imagine this. *holds your hand carefully to help you calm down while talking to your father you haven't really wanted to talk to.* lesbian type stuff ngl 🤯 (relatable)

Angel looking at the gays while being a gay too. HE'S BEING SO KIND TO CHARLIE UGGHH I CANTTT!!(POS) NODDING HIS HEAD, SMILING TO HER, ALSO TRYING TO HELP CALM HER DOWN. I MAY BE ASS AT SOCIAL CUES BUT I NOTICED THIS ONE!! YAA

*SHE IS STILL HOLDING HER HAND. CHARLIE'S ALSO SWINGING IT AROUND NERVOUSLY. I can never get tired of them and will make art soon just you wait.*

COMMANDER VAGGIE! I love that she acts like this is a camp full of tiny kids and honestly? That's not too far off. Sir pentious is at the ready! (glad he's here more often in the episode, thought he would just get sidelined after his first episode but gladly no!) Angel is just surprised. Husk spilled his drink, ON WHITE FUR NO LESS! Niffty of course is on the floor face first. Charlie is just happy to be there yippee!

What is this?? I have no idea what the hell it is at all. Bro is just peepin- it doesn't look like Alastor, even in demon form. And... I can't think of anyone else who could be this. Anyone have ideas or maybe it's foreshadowing? Maybe it was revealed in the 6th episode I don't know I haven't watched it yet. (I am a freak. I don't binge I give myself a day to watch a single episode. Most of the time uhhh.)

WE LOVE A SHORT KING. I LOVE THAT. I LOVE HIM. THE EVERYTHING. HE IS EVERYTHING. LET ME STRANGLE HIM PLEASE. (Lillith and Lucifer's dynamic is 100% Gomez and Morticia but a little more silly short man)

"OH WOW! AN OLDER MAN WHO GIVES ME FATHERLY CARE!" *STARTS TO FUCKING CRY*

I FEEL YOU CHARLIE WAAAGHHH

Oh and there goes the silly guy again! Atp I'm thinking it may be the gal some people been talking about that they've been hinting since the pilot. I forgot her name but she's said to be the big bad of season 1 or probably 2. Not sure if that's what it's trying to imply but here's my little no-thought idea

Lucifer, no...

LUCIFER NO!! THIS IS SUCH AN ADORABLE RESPONSE TO CHARLIE DATING A WOMAN. (ADOPT ME)

AND THEN THE HUG! I GET IM LOOKING TOO MUCH INTO THIS ONE SILLY SCENE BUT I JUST LOVE IT SO MUCH AND WANT THIS SO BAD IN MY LIFE.

Niffty really said, "Yes, I do the cleaning."

Get yourself a taller king who is a short king but compared to you is a tall king

Say what you will, but I genuinely want more dad Alastor, someone make an au before I do plsss and @ me 🙏🙏

alright.. now this is where it starts to be relatable and hurt my heart... yayy.... needing any sort of parent figure that actually cares about you than the actual parent who is rarely there? WOWZA! SAME CHARLIE <3 <3 (SO FAR VERY ACCURATE FROM SOMEONE THAT IS IN THE SAME SITUATION)

Alastor is letting her off kindly, atleast in his way. He may be pissed off she brought a shark gang to the hotel and put it on fire, but they were still close friends. With anyone else he would absolutely either murder them or have severely traumatized the person. She's the exception, although I don't think he'd let it off the hook so easily if there were a next time.

A father-daughter embrace! :,)

(This is gonna be messy asf) He wants to know who she is as a person. He always has, and that's definitely obvious, but from a person inside this, they may not know themselves what the other is thinking. To Charlie it was like he never cared and just wanted an excuse to not see her again, acting like he was truly busy as in the start where he made the rubber duck that breathed fire. Sure. But Charlie saw it as him finding ways to not interact with her again. The only times they talk was when it was related to business stuff or other things of the sort. Let me just say this song... is by far my favorite, including the episode. Sure, it's got problems it's own, but this extremely accurate portrayal of what my own situation with one of my parents just stole my entire soul. Yeah I got a bit of tears about to come out, BUT NOPE! NOT TODAY! I don't ever cry during shows or movies so if I ever get teary-eyed, YOU DID SOMETHING. THAT SOMETHING BEING GOOD. This episode was emotional and connected with me on a deep level that I dont think any film has ever done to me, which is weird because I've been actively trying to find one, any one that does. Then to find it in an indie company from a creator who has achieved the dreams that I myself want to one day? That's fucking amazing.

FORESHADOWING! FROESHADOWING! FORESHADOWING! VAGGIE EX-ANGEL THEORY MUST BE CANON AND IF ITS NOT I WILL TEAR MYSELF LIMB FROM LIMB WITH A CROWBAR. LETS GO TO HEAVENNN!!! TOMORROW! BECAUSE THE DAY I PUBLISH THIS WILL BE TOMORROW(FOR YOU TODAY) BUT TOMORROW FOR YOU ILL POST THE NEXT WHAT I CAUGHT SHENANIGANS AGAIN! SEE YA!

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starsandhughes · 11 months

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Penalty Box Series— Cruel Weather (Part One)

requests: “I was wondering if you’d maybe do something about sissy getting seriously hurt (like a landing in the hospital kind of bad?) I honestly just really want to see all the boys protective and worried about her” and “Hi!!! Im absolutely in love with the penalty box series, and i was wondering if we could get a small blurb with sissy getting injured? ik you did a thing depicting how the boys would react, and im intrigued to see how that would play out:)”

requests based off this ask: how the boys would react to sissy getting hurt

warnings: major car accident, crying, surgery, broken bones, coma, mentions of God, mentions of medication, swearing

word count: 5.1k

General Series Masterlist

p.s. we go big or go home in this series, so be careful what you wish for ;)

p.s.s i did look things up in medical articles for this so it’s as accurate as i understood.

part one — part two — part three — part four

——————

SEPTEMBER 2021

It was storming.

Well, storming might be too kind of a word for what mother nature was throwing at you tonight. It was the most aggressive torrential downpour you’ve ever seen, let alone driven in.

It wasn’t raining that hard when you got into the car to pick up Trevor and Jamie from the gym, because Trevor’s car was in the shop, and the weather radar said the storm wasn’t due to hit until later that night. You tried to stay as calm and collected as you could while driving. You were gripping the wheel to keep your car from fishtailing and you were attentive to everything around you. Not every driver on the road was being as careful as you.

———

Trevor was pacing the foyer of the gym, constantly checking his girlfriend’s location on the big life 360 circle, which wasn’t refreshing and said that she hadn’t left home.

“She said she left twenty minutes ago!”

“It’s raining, Z,” Jamie tried to be reasonable, although he was worried, too. “She’s probably driving slow.”

“No, it was raining twenty minutes ago. It’s World War three out there right now!” Trevor yelled.

“Maybe she pulled over because she got scared?” Jamie offered a reasonable explanation.

“She would’ve called,” Trevor dismissed him.

“She could’ve called Quinn.”

Trevor stopped in his tracks and turned to face his best friend.

“You don’t know Quinn that well, but he would’ve had her at least text me. And I would’ve been the next person she called if he didn’t-“

Trevor was cut off by his phone ringing.

“Thank fuck,” he said relieved. His expression quickly changed, however.

“What?” Jamie asked, now joining on the concerned out of his mind train.

“It’s a hospital,” Trevor said. The color was drained from his face. “Hello?”

Jamie didn’t think it was possible, but Trevor got even more ghost white at whatever the person on the other end of the phone was saying. All he knows is that his best friend’s knees gave out and he had to catch him to ease him up against the wall on the ground.

“Z?! Trevor, what did the hospital say?!” Jamie kept tapping Trevor’s cheek to get him to respond, but he was too out of it. “Z, I need you to work with me here. Hey! Hey, look at me!”

“She’s…”

“She’s what, Trevor? Y/N?” Trevor nodded. “Is she okay?”

It was Jamie’s turn to turn white when he shook his head. Jamie was not only scared at the uncertainty of the condition Y/N was in, but at his best friend’s reaction. He knew that Y/N and Trevor were each other’s worlds, but he’d never seen Trevor like this. It was unnerving.

Jamie turned to look outside and saw that the storm was letting up, so he took the opportunity to call Fowler to pick them up. While he was waiting for Fowler to arrive, he took Trevor’s phone so that he could call Jack.

“What’s up, Z?” Jack answered.

“Jack! It’s Jamie. I don’t know how to say this, so I’m just going to spill it out.”

“What’s wrong? Is Z okay?”

“Um… It’s not Z that I’m the most worried about. He got a call from the hospital. I guess Y/N got into an accident, but he basically fainted and all I know is that he shook his head when I asked if she was okay,” Jamie spewed out.

He heard something drop and break over the phone, followed by someone’s shouts asking “what happened?”

“Jack?”

“I’ll call everyone else and get on a plane. Keep me updated. Can you give Trevor the phone?” Jack asked, his voice sounding like a drill sergeant. Jamie put the phone on speaker because he didn’t really know how catatonic Trevor was right now. “Okay, he’s here.”

“Trevor? Listen to me, okay? Sissy’s going to need you. I know you’re terrified right now, and I know you’re thinking of ways to blame yourself. She doesn’t need that. She needs her boyfriend to be with her. She needs you. I’m going to call everyone, so don’t worry about that. Take your time. Let Jamie help. But the second she opens her eyes, I need you to be strong for her if none of us are there, okay?”

Jamie waited for Trevor’s reaction, “He’s nodding.”

“I need more than that, Z,” Jack said.

“O- okay,” Trevor forced himself to speak, but it came out very shaky.

Shortly after Jack hung up, Cam arrived. He came running, semi knowing the severity of the situation. He took one look at his teammate on the ground and knelt down in front of him.

“Have you ever seen him like this?” Cam asked.

“Never,” Jamie answered.

“Alright, I’m going to pull my car to the front and then we’ll get him in the car.”

It took both guys to get Trevor on his feet and into the backseat of the car to drive to the hospital, and he remained silent the entire drive there.

———

Jack dropped his glass the second Jamie said “Y/N” and “accident” in the same sentence. He completely ignored his roommate’s questions. After hanging up with Jamie and Trevor, he had to make some not ideal phone calls. So he started with the hardest one. Quinn didn’t answer, instead sending him a text saying that he was busy and asked if he could call him back later. When Jack told him it was an emergency, his phone immediately rang.

“What’s wrong?” Quinn asked urgently.

“You might want to sit down,” Jack said.

“Jack, I’m at the gym with Petey, there’s not an ideal place to sit down!”

“Trust me, Q.”

“Alright, hold on.”

Jack waited while Quinn told Petey he was going to the locker room and made his way there.

“You’re not dying, are you?” his brother asked, worry coating his voice.

“No, it’s not me, um… Sissy got in an accident. I don’t how bad it is, but Trevor is basically catatonic right now,” Jack said, getting choked up at the end.

There was a long silence. All Jack could hear was Quinn’s breathing getting unsteady.

“Tell me she’s with you right now and decided to play a sick joke,” Quinn said.

“Quinn…”

“TELL ME YOU’RE JOKING, JACK!”

“I’m not,” Jack said shakily. His big brother losing it on the phone was enough for him to snap out of his take charge mode and finally start crying. “And I really wish I was.”

Quinn gulped, also trying to keep it together, “Do you want me to meet you in Anaheim, or do you want me to come get you?” Quinn asked.

“Anaheim is closer-“

“I will sit on a plane for an extra two hours if you need me to. I’ll call everyone else if you need me to. I’ll-“

“Go to her,” Jack cut him off. “Let me handle everything else. She needs you.”

“She needs you, too, Jacky,” Quinn said softly.

“Go to her. I’ll see you there.”

The rest of the phone calls to Luke, Cole, Alex, and his parents were just as hard. Just like Quinn offered to come get him, he offered to come get his little brother. And just like he did, Luke told him to go to Sissy. Alex was closest, so he would be there first. Quinn would likely be next, since he has the shortest flight time depending on when he could get on a plane. The rest of his family would likely beat him there due to the slightly quicker flight time. The race to Sissy for Cole and Jack would depend on who catches a place first. Whatever the case, Jack would be one of the last people there. And the thought of that made him sick.

———

When they arrived at the hospital, Cam insisted on coming in to support his teammates and Y/N.

“Jimmy, you’re forgetting every member of this team loves Y/N. I’ll take care of talking to Dallas to tell him you two won’t be at training camp for at least tomorrow. But I’m not leaving right now,” Cam said firmly.

Jamie nodded and they both got Trevor, who was still scarily out of it, out of the car and into the hospital. Cam sat down with Trevor in the waiting room while Jamie went to talk to a nurse running the desk.

“Hi, how may I help you?” she asked him.

“Uh… My name is Jamie Drysdale. My friend over there is the emergency contact for Y/N Y/L/N and I’m assuming her accident was bad because he’s really out of it and hasn’t spoken and I was hoping to get some information for him?” Jamie told her.

“And what’s his name?”

“Trevor Zegras.”

“Alright. It says here that she’s currently in surgery, so a doctor will be out when there’s any news,” she explained to him.

“What’s the surgery for?” Jamie asked urgently.

“I’m sorry, sir. I can’t discuss that information with you.”

“Can you tell it to her emergency contact?”

Jamie went to get Trevor when the nurse told him yes. He’s pretty sure the only reason he got Trevor’s attention was when he said his girlfriend’s name.

“Can I see some ID?” the nurse asked him.

Jamie dug out Trevor’s wallet from his back pocket and handed the nurse his drivers license. Trevor still wasn’t speaking, so they both just stood there expectantly.

“The impact from the other driver crushed the left side of her car. The damage was enough to require surgery to fix the comminuted fractures she endured in the accident.”

“So what does mean?” Jamie asked shakily.

“She had many breaks and fractures in many of the same bones in her leg, so the surgery is to implant internal fixtures,” the nurse explained. “Based off her chart, this is likely the first of a few surgeries.”

“O-okay. Thank you,” Jamie managed to get out.

The news was anything but helpful for Trevor. If anything, it made him worse. He was walking shaky again and it was even worse than when he originally got the phone call. Cam staying ended up being a good thing, because he rushed over to help Trevor back into a seat.

“How bad?” he asked.

“She’s in the first of who knows how many surgeries,” Jamie whispered to him.

All there was to do was wait. And wait. And wait.

Jamie didn’t know how much time had passed when Alex burst through the front doors to the hospital, desperately looking back and forth for his friends. Jamie raised his hand up to signal to him and he rushed over.

“How is she?” Alex asked him immediately.

Jamie got up and took him over to the other side of the waiting room to give Alex the quick run down on both Y/N’s condition and Trevor’s reaction.

“Has he ever done this?” Jamie asked him.

“No,” Alex shook his head. “I’ve never seen him not speaking. Even when he’d get upset. Even when things with Y/N got rough. He’s never been like this.”

“What did you do when things got rough with Y/N?”

“Got him drunk,” Alex tried to laugh.

“I don't think that'll work in this situation,” Jamie sighed.

“No,” Alex sighed, too. “It won’t.”

Alex became the bridge between everyone else’s flight times and updates on their arrivals and them. Most won’t arrive until late that night just because of flight schedules, but miraculously everyone managed to find a flight today. Everyone except Quinn, who couldn’t find a flight until five in the morning.

Two hours later was when a doctor finally came out. He informed the group that the first surgery was a success and that she should be waking up within an hour. Cam took this as his cue to leave so that the people closest to her would be all that was there.

It wasn’t a pretty sight when Trevor, Jamie, Alex, and the doctor, Dr. Walsh, stepped into Y/N’s hospital room. Most of the damage was to the left side of her body. Her left leg was wrapped and elevated in a sling, and her left shoulder was equally wrapped and propped on a large piece that almost looked like foam right next to her. Add all the wires and tubes attached to her, and she looked one step away from withering away.

“What was the surgery on?” Alex asked.

“It was to fix a series of comminuted fractures in her knee as well as her tibia. A cast cannot be applied until the swelling has gone down, so it’ll be held in traction for the next few days.”

“And the other surgeries she needs?” Jamie added on.

“It will just be one. She needs a total shoulder replacement to fix the damage that the crushing of her car door did.”

“Anything else?” Trevor finally spoke. Jamie and Alex whipped their heads to their friend that sat himself in the chair next to his girlfriend’s bed side.

“Besides the visible cuts and bruises, she has a severe concussion,” Dr. Walsh said.

“And you put her under anesthesia?” Jamie asked, shocked.

“We used a different kind of anesthesia that is perfectly safe for patients with a concussion. She’s completely healthy besides the injuries from her accident, so we aren’t expecting any complications.”

“Expecting?” Trevor asked.

“There’s always a chance for complications, but as of right now, we don’t believe she’ll experience any of them. She’s heavily sedated with pain medication, so she might not stay awake for long periods of time when she does wake up, but everything else should be perfectly normal.”

Trevor nodded and Jamie shook the doctor’s hand as he left the room.

“And now we wait,” he sighed, pulling up a seat next to Trevor. Alex grabbed a chair and pulled it up to her most injured side.

“We should’ve just driven her car to the gym,” Trevor said, refusing to look anywhere but his hands holding Y/N’s uninjured hand. “We knew it was going to rain, and we made her drive out in a storm, which scared the shit out of her, to get us.”

“Z, we didn’t know it would hit early,” Jamie tried to comfort his friend.

“But we knew it was coming! I should’ve called us an uber the second it started to rain early. She shouldn’t have been driving!”

“Trevor,” it was Alex’s turn to try. “She wouldn’t have driven in the rain if she thought it was unsafe or if she was having trouble with anxiety. You know that. She would’ve pulled over the second it got to the point where she couldn’t drive anymore and called you. This accident wasn’t her fault. She could’ve gotten into the same accident on a sunny afternoon. You can’t drop everything every time there’s a chance of rain. This isn’t on you.”

Trevor ran his hand through his hair and kept his other holding Y/N’s. His leg was bouncing a mile per minute and his breaths were sharp, but steady.

“Can I have a minute?” he asked, his voice cracking. Jamie and Alex said nothing, both only patting Trevor on the shoulder as they went into the hallway.

“The world shouldn’t be this cruel to you,” Trevor said. He was alone and finally allowed himself to cry. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if I lost you. I was- I don’t know. I blacked out for a while. And I shouldn’t have. I shouldn’t have had to rely on Jamie to even get here, and I think Fowler was involved, too. I remember Jack telling me I need to be here for you, and I am, but I’m not myself without you. And for most of tonight, I thought I’d have to learn how to be someone without you. I never want to know that man.”

Trevor started to cry even harder and couldn’t get any more words out. He laid his head down on the thin mattress, keeping his hand in yours. Jamie and Alex came back in when they heard his sobs. Jamie bent down and put his arm around his best friend, who did nothing but lean against him for support.

“She’ll be okay,” Jamie said low. “She has to be.”

An hour passed and Y/N had yet to wake up. She was heavily sedated, so the doctors weren’t worried yet.

Then another hour passed. And another. It was past nine. Her surgery started almost six hours ago, and ended about four hours ago. And she hadn’t woken up yet. Not for even a second.

The doctors finally decided Y/N’s lack of waking up from the anesthesia was cause for concern. All three boys were kicked out and sent back to the waiting room while they ran tests on her.

“I gotta call Quinn,” Trevor said and walked outside. He slid down against the brick wall outside and took a moment to breathe. His entire world was inside the hospital. And something was wrong. And he didn’t know what.

“Hello?” Quinn answered urgently. Trevor immediately let out a sob when he answered. He had to tell his girlfriend’s best friend her condition while he was over a thousand miles away.

“Trevor, what’s wrong?!”

“Something’s wrong,” Trevor choked out.

“What? What’s wrong, Z, spill it out!”

“They don’t know yet. She was supposed to wake up within an hour after surgery and she hasn’t yet. It’s been over four now,” Trevor told him slowly.

“Fuck!” Quinn yelled. A thud and the sound of something getting knocked over followed. “I should be there! If there was a fucking flight before tomorrow morning, I would’ve already been there!”

Trevor remained silently crying while Quinn paced back and forth. After a minute, Trevor heard Quinn’s voice again. Only he wasn’t speaking. He was crying. Trevor just sat against the wall and listened while he cried, too. Because that’s all they could do for each other right now.

By the grace of the universe, the Hughes parents plus Luke arrived. The three of them rushed over to Trevor, expecting the worst.

“What happened?! Is Sissy okay?!” Luke sputtered out. He didn’t give Trevor a chance to respond before he started speaking again. “Trevor!”

“She hasn’t—“ Trevor got too choked up. Ellen sat down next to him and put her arm around him. “She hasn’t what?”

“She hasn’t woken up yet. They’re running tests to see what’s wrong,” Trevor finally got out.

They stayed outside for a bit, Ellen taking Trevor’s phone to speak to her oldest son to try and help him calm down.

Jamie came out to get Trevor to inform him that the tests are done but the doctors won’t speak to him directly because he’s not an emergency contact, and was happily (as much as he could be) surprised at the arrival of Jim, Ellen, and Luke. He had only met them once, but greeted them with hugs anyway. He pulled Trevor up, and Luke pulled up his mom, and the five of them made their way back into the hospital so that they could talk to a doctor.

Ellen explained that they were Y/N’s family, so the doctor could finally talk to people that weren’t just Trevor. Which was good, because it was already taking a toll on him.

The update was anything but good. It was quite possibly one of the worst possible outcomes that didn’t involve dying.

“What we hoped was just delayed emergence from the anesthesia, was actually Y/N slipping into a coma. It’s not very common, but we have concluded that the cause was from her reaction to the drug mixture from the anesthesia and her antidepressants. The serotoninergic agents in her medication didn’t react normally. It’s rare, but not an abnormality. Now that we know the cause, we can begin treatment to help her awake from the coma,” Dr. Walsh informed the group.

Trevor’s knees began to give out again, and Alex and Jamie were the only reasons he didn’t completely fall to the floor. They helped him into a chair and a nurse that saw it happen quickly brought him some water.

While Jim and Ellen continued to talk with Dr. Walsh, Luke went back outside. He couldn’t take it. There were so many emotions pent up in him, and he didn’t know how to deal with it. He never had to. When Alex came out to find him, he was sitting just like Trevor was, trying not to sob.

“Hey,” Alex said as he slid down the wall beside him.

“Back in Sissy and Jack’s freshman year before the move, she twisted her ankle at the outdoor rink. She was crying and in pain and we weren’t sure if she had broken her ankle yet. She didn’t fall hard, so looking back we should’ve known, but I was a kid. I was scared.

“The second we got her off the ice, I gripped onto her hand. And suddenly she was trying to hold it together and play it off that it didn’t hurt that bad when it clearly did. Quinn was fussing over her and asking her why she was pretending to be okay. All it took was one look from her for Quinn to know it was because of me. He told Jack to take me away, but she refused. She told him that if I needed her to hold my hand, she wasn’t going to let go until I was okay. She knew I was scared. I’m terrified right now and she—“ Luke’s own cries cut him off, which seemed to be a common theme for everybody.

“I can hold your hand,” Alex tried to joke. Luke breathed out a laugh, “I’ll be okay.”

“Come on,” Alex said while getting up. “You can still hold her hand. Her right arm is free from all wraps and slings and everything else. You just have to be the strong one this time.”

———

When Trevor stumbled into Y/N’s room, he wasn’t expecting her to have a tube down her throat. He was expecting her to look just as he last saw her.

“Wh- what?” Trevor stammered. He rushed over the side of the bed to get a closer look. at her. Her chest rose with the pumping of the machine.

“Dr. Walsh said the coma has affected her ability to breathe on her own,” Ellen said as she walked in. “They had to intubate her.”

Trevor sat down in his chair and held Y/N’s hand in both of his. He brought it up to his lips and softly kissed each knuckle. He closed his eyes, still holding her hand to his face, and allowed silent tears to fall.

“Is she gonna die?” he squeaked, opening his eyes to look at Ellen.

Ellen pursed her lips, “The doctors say that with the new treatment plan, everything should work out and she’ll be awake in a couple of days.”

“They also said she’d be up within the hour. Now it’s six hours later and she can’t breathe on her own,” Trevor scoffed bitterly. The relief of bitterness only lasted for a moment. Luke came in and Trevor suddenly felt the need to step up for him. His brothers weren’t here, and his sister was in a coma. Luke gasped at the sight and slowly made his way to the end of her bed, placing his hands on the rail of the foot of the bed.

“You can sit here,” Trevor said softly as he got up.

“No, it’s okay. She’s your-“

“She’s your sister,” Trevor cut him off, speaking firmly.

Luke nodded and slowly made his way to the chair Trevor was just residing in. He sat down and tentatively took Y/N’s hand, careful not to touch the new IV implanted into her arm.

“Do you need a minute?” Trevor asked. He began to leave quietly with Ellen when Luke nodded. “Oh, by the way; Jack texted. His and Cole’s flights landed around the same time, so they’ll be here soon.”

“Thanks,” Luke croaked out while putting his elbows on the bed and brought his sister’s hand to his face.

“Fuck, Sissy,” Luke sighed. “Why is it always you? I know you say you’d rather be the one in pain instead of any one of us, but God gave you a decade’s worth of our pain in one accident.”

Luke was full on crying now.

“I can’t lose you. When I saw Trevor crying outside, I thought you died. I thought some stranger took you away from me. From us. And I-“

Luke couldn’t go on. His sobs were too harsh. Jack, finally arriving, rushed into the hospital room and pulled up a chair next to his younger brother and pulled him into his side for a hug.

“Turc told me I needed to be strong, but I can’t. I can’t be the strong one and I thought I lost her and I can’t lose her! I can’t lose Sissy, Jack. That’s not an option! And if she doesn’t wake up…”

“Hey, none of that,” Jack said, rubbing his hand up and down his brother’s back. “She’s one of the strongest people I know. She can be stubborn, but she knows when to ask for help. I’ll be there to help her, you’ll be there to help her, mom, dad, Quinn, Trevor, and everyone else that dropped everything and got here as fast as they could will be there to help. Nico already said he’ll visit soon. If you’ve told Duker, he’ll probably come, too. Sissy is so loved, and she knows it. She’s not gonna quit on us. She’s got a lot more tormenting left in her.”

Luke huffed out a sad attempt at a laugh and pulled away from his brother. He stood up and motioned for Jack to take his chair, “Your turn, Jacky.”

Jack smiled and thanked Luke before replacing his brother with himself in the chair closest to Y/N.

“I hate this. We all do. But the season will start soon, and I’ll have to go back to Jersey, which means I can’t be with you every step of the way. I’ll have to go back to a constant state of worrying about you. So if you could wake up within the next ten days, that would be doing me a huge solid, you know?”

Jack was trying to joke, hoping that you could hear him, but the tears became too much. He was trying to be the person holding everyone together. He was trying to take Sissy’s roll. But no one was okay enough to play her role for him.

Trevor knocked on the door and Jack motioned for him to come in, “How’s it going? You hanging on?”

“I’m trying,” Trevor answered honestly. “The Doctors are getting sick of us, by the way. At eleven they want us all gone now that she’s settled. One of us can stay the night, though.”

“You staying?”

“I assumed so. Quinn’s not here,” Trevor said. “Come on, Jamie wants a minute with her before he has to go. Everyone’s staying at our house.”

“Is Jamie cooking everyone breakfast?” Jack teased, once again searching for a way to lighten things.

“For your sake, I hope not,” Trevor lightly smiled back as they threw an arm around one another and made their way out of the room.

Jamie was quick to replace them, only having a few minutes before eleven.

“I don’t know if you can hear me, or if there’s some astral projection of you somewhere in this room like the movies, but I just want you to know that I’m here and that I love you. So many people dropped everything to be here, but if they couldn’t, I’d still be here. And I’ll be there for you every second once you’re released and we will figure something out once the season starts for everyone,” Jame took her hand in his, “We love you. Every single one of us. All of us have teammates texting us asking how you’re doing. You’re so loved by every person you meet. You don’t deserve this. You are the last person on Earth who deserves this. And I know you’ll say that you’re glad it was just you in the car and that you hadn’t picked me and Z up yet, but we aren’t. But none of us were going to be thankful for the same ending. Then you’d guilt trip us into agreeing to your face, but we all know we don’t agree. I’d rather have you cuddled unreasonably close to me and Z over a terrifying almost than facing this… cruel reality.”

Jamie stopped talking and let himself attempt to find comfort in the steady beep of the machine monitoring Y/N’s heartbeat. It was steady; it was in sync with the pumping of oxygen into her frail body.

“It’s not fair,” Jamie squeaked out through tears.

Everything came crashing down at once for Jamie. He had been holding it together for Trevor for so long; he didn’t get a chance to properly feel anything. Sobs wracked his body as he put his head down on the bed and gripped her hand tightly. Trevor heard him and came rushing in. He stood next to the chair and wrapped his arms around his best friend, a sight no one thought they’d ever see.

“She was coming to get us,” Jamie cried. Trevor hugged him tighter, “I know… I know.”

They stayed like this for as long as they could before Jim popped in and informed them that they had to go. Trevor promised to call them if anything as little as a blink happened, and that was finally enough to get Jamie to willingly leave.

Sleep was not coming easy for Trevor. He knew it was highly unlikely that his girlfriend would wake up, the doctors said it might take a few days for the delayed emergence to end and that she was so sedated from pain medication that it would take a while, but he couldn’t help but have hope.

“You’d probably scold me for not being able to sleep,” Trevor huffed a laugh. “I can practically hear you using my full name and physically shoving my body onto the bed and doing a full dramatic show of tucking me in.”

Trevor pulled up a comfier chair that was brought in and propped his legs up on another chair to attempt to get comfortable.

“Goodnight, sweet girl,” Trevor said as he kissed Y/N’s forehead. “I’ll be right here if you need me. I love you, forever.”

#penalty box series #penalty box series: imagines #trevor zegras #trevor zegras x reader #trevor zegras imagine #trevor zegras angst #jamie drysdale #jamie drysdale imagine #jack hughes #jack hughes imagine #quinn hughes #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes angst #luke hughes #luke hughes imagine #alex turcotte #cole caufield #hockey imagine

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roe-and-memory · 4 months

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every time someone says cars 3 is the worst cars movie another angel punches me in the stomach and pulls my hair.

this is probably just my intense special interest in the origins of nascar, but that movie feels like such a nice send-off for the main “trilogy”, and yes people can have their own opinions but i NEED to talk about how much this movie means to me

first of all, a major misconception is that lightning quit racing - he DIDNT! this is proven by both the end of the movie (where he says hes obviously going to keep racing) and cars on the road where, in the final episode, cruz and lightning wish each other “goodbye” and say they’ll see each other on the racetrack. he was only cruz’s crew chief for that one season, presumably healing from the trauma of the crash (because lets be real his ass did not mentally recover from that in FOUR MONTHS) and also waiting for a permanent crew chief to take his place.

second.. the sheer amount of detail put into that movie is INSANE. the racing center being shaped like grandstands at a track? fireball beach being both a direct reference to the daytona beach race course and also “fireball roberts”, a 1950s racer (he was actually the reason that firesuits were mandated in the sport), we meet a bunch of 1950s racers as well and just augh.. so good. also, the detail of thomasville being in north carolina is brilliant - N.C is the “racing state”, and thomasville speedway is based off of north wilkesboro, a track that was opened in 1949, and last used in 1996 (aside from the series of races in 2010), and it fell into disrepair. (fun fact, north wilkesboro is reopening in 2024 for the nascar all star race!! they fixed my bbg)

third. cars three brings so much more lore than the first movie did. yes, we knew doc raced in the 50s when the sport was getting its start, but in cars 3? they brought in characters based off of real 1950s racers (doc is based off of herb thomas, smokey is smokey yunick, lou is louise smith, junior is junior johnson, river is wendell scott, and leroy hemming is tim flock) (another reference in the movie is “jocko flockos party supplies” as macks disguise - jocko flocko was tim flocks pet monkey that was the FIRST and only co-driver in the history of the sport. he won a race with his monkey in the car with him :) )

as i was saying, the lore we learn is insane. we learn that lou and river had to fight for their place in the sport, which is similar to what both louise smith and wendell scott experienced in the 50s, they show us accurately how racing worked back then too - they didnt have fancy pits, they had a fence and a pit member with a sign that would tell them to come in the next lap for service. all of these cars are gen 1 nascar, which means that they were strictly stock - they had much more intense pit sessions than any of the other “built for racing” generations have ever needed. i recall watching a race wherein smokey yunick had to change the radiator of one of his racers vehicles mid-race due to a crash.

this isnt everything, but seriously for an animated movie about talking cars, they discuss grief and hardships and handle them so well its insane. i know cruz isnt everyones cup of tea, but (in reference to the flip scene at the end of the movie) watching cruz get shoved into the sport must’ve been insane for lou to watch. she saw herself in that girl. it wasnt some movie about lightning giving up, it was him sharing the torch with another kid who lost their way just like he had.

also i dont cry at movies but i literally bawl my fucking eyes out at the letters scene every time. its PATHETIC (its not im literally tearing up just thinking about it)

#cars 2006 #cars fandom #lightning mcqueen #cars 3 (2017)#pixar cars #doc hudson #louise nash #i seriously love cars 3 so much man #and the animation.. augh…. ITS SO GOOD #this was so much longer than i thought it’d be oops 😭

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dilucsfav · 11 months

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OH EM GEE HIIIIII !! FOR THE SUB THINGY COULD I REQUEST XIAO, SCARA, GOROU AND KAZUHA IF YOU CAN???? ABSOLUTELY NO RUSH AT ALL, TAKE YOUR TIME RAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH

omg HIIII!!!

HELL YES I WAS PRAYING SOMEBODY WOULD REQUEST THIS

this is gonna be so fun to write!! i had a lot of fun with dom genshin men acting like subs, it’s time to do sub men acting like doms😻TEHEHEHSHS THIS EXCITES ME

…. i have never written for some of these characters (gorou, scara, ALBEDO!!!, etc etc) but i’m so excited omg

i’m so sorry i’ve been so absent HELPPPP my energy has been so low and shit but i’m really trying to write more i promise I HAVE SO MANY FUN REQUESTS I WANNA WRITE AHHH

there were so many men i wanted to write for this so i’m sorry it took a while </3 but yes here you all go!!

Dom!genshin men x sub!reader (ft. scaramouche, xiao, kazuha, gorou, albedo, tighnari, childe)

warning(s): nsfw, slight? knife play, blood, marks and bruises, choking, spanking… yeah all the good shit, put ur big boy panties on😩

scaramouche

im sorry but he wouldn’t give a rat’s ass about your pleasure when he’s being dom-

would force you to choke on his dick with no mercy ong, just making you take it all deep and hard and mhmmm

IM SORRY LMAO IM JUST IMAGINING HIS SMALL ASS BEING DOM AND TRYING TO BOSS YOU AROUND AND ITS MAKING ME GIGGLE-

IMAGINE CALLING HIS FUCKING 4 FOOT 3 ASS “DADDY” OR “MASTER”- IM SORRY I 😭😭

sorry these are supposed to be good hcs mb

anywho he’d be a very mean & stubborn dom, and low key kinda abusive-

WOULD slap you if you’re a brat/didn’t do something right that he asked of you. like NOT SPANKING but like SLAPPING

would absolutely get off to seeing you bleed/using a knife on you💀

^^AND CRYING TOO??? yeah he’d probably hit you so hard or fuck you too much until you’re a crying mess cuz he’s into that and we all fuckin know it

“Say it again, (Y/N). You wanna be stuffed with cock so fucking bad, huh? Admit it.”

would call you dirty slut, whore, yada yada all that shit

IM SORRY YALL LMAO I DONT VIBE W SCARA IN THAT WAY BUT HOPEFULLY ITS SOMEWHAT ACCURATE 💔💔💔

Xiao

xiao please fuck me

anyways

so mean but such a soft dom at the same time, you get me?

when hes thrusting n shit, he’d totally go slower and harder rather than quicker and not-as-hard

…. cuz let’s be honest… if he went FAST… literally would be digging your fucking grave cuz his inner demons would definitely conquer the fuck out of your tushy

IM SORRY IMAGINE HIM GOING EXTREMELY FAST AND JUST GOING “EVIL CONQUERING” DURING IT-

i’m sorry please laugh at my jokes

honestly there isn’t really any kinks that i can think of that’d he’d be into?

in general, i think sex with him would be EXTREMELY intimate & sweet. like throughout it he’d pleasure you but he’d be so careful about it and so sweet💔💔 he’d have moments where he’d get carried away but it never goes too far

his teeth latching onto your neck while he’s fucking you HELLO!!!!!! CONQUER ME PLS

“You’ve been so, so good for me. Do you think you can take it all, (Y/N)?”

dude his dick would be to die for- cuz it’s not super big, in fact it’s pretty average size, BUT ITS SUCH GOOD DICK LIKE HE GIVES SUCH GOOD DICK AND WE ALL KNOW IT. LIKE HE KNOWS HOW TO MOVE IT IN ALL THE GOOFY FEEL GOOD AREAS N SWEET SPOTS N EVERYTHING

^^imagining his body all sweaty while he’s towering over you, fucking you, watching your expression and panting, brushing this thumb over your face and praising you but in a way that he’s asserting that he’s in control?

PLEASEEE

dude i’m sorry i’m sorry but i need to write just regular hcs & scenarios w xiao SO I CAN WRITE ABOUT RIDING HIS DICK CUZ GODDD

anyways i’m getting too carried away with xiao, next friend to write about-

Kazuha Kaedehara

soft dom. one hundred fucking percent. no way in HELL anybody can convince me he’d be a mean dom.

ngh ngh ngh THATS THE SOUNDS HE’D MAKE, THATS THE BEST WAY TO DESCRIBE HIS WHIMPER/MOAN WHEN HES GIVING DICK

tbh he’s just so gentle but so teasing to you too- he’d absolutely embarrass you and get you all flustered and have no regrets about it

“Mm… feels good here, (Y/N)? Look me on the eyes and tell me, my flower.”

would hit ALL the sweet spots and we all know it

pls pls he’d intertwine yours and his fingers and squeeze your hands super tight while he’s doing it with you, god god while also asking if you’re comfortable? omfgggg

…… do i think kazuha kaedehara likes seeing you tied up? ………. kinda

IDK CAN YALL SEE IT??? CUZ IDK I FEEL LIKE HE’D JUST ENJOY IT, OR AT LEAST HOLDING YOUR HANDS ABOVE UR HEAD?? PLS with that little innocent look of his /////////…

he’d do this awfully attractive chuckle during it I CAN JUST FUCKING PICTURE IT

oh holy shit he’d absolutely lift your legs onto his shoulders so he can kiss your thighs and just hold your legs cuz cuz coz UHHSHSHSHSH

legs legs what’s on the menu? legs legs what’s on the menu? legs legs what’s on the menu? *clap clap clap clap* LEGS!!!!

(please tell me i don’t sound like a dumbass and that somebody gets that song reference)

honestly kazu is totally a pro with his fingers… i don’t make the rules, i just write them

that made no fucking sense anyways

Gorou

IVE ACTUALKY NEVER WRITTEN FOR GOROU IVE BEEN WANTING TO FOR SO LONG HES SO MS HINA BBG

i’m sorry i’m cackling at the idea of gorou being dom but

ok but if he’s the dom one, it’s probably if he’s… in heat

^^YOU KNEW IT HAD TO BE SAID CMON CUS WHEN ELSE IS THIS MF PUPPY ENERGY MAN GONNA BE DOM? exactly.

so with that being said, we all know what “puppy energy” is like… puppies are very fast therefore Gorou go vroom vroom in that hole-

am i making too many dog jokes?? this is going to make me sound disgusting im going insane

so anyways … yeah so he’d go super fast and he wouldn’t really talk too much dirty he would just be VERYYY vocal and would pant and whine and grunt and all that shit

imagine him whispering “yes yes yes…” as he’s yknow GOD SAVE ME FROM MY HORRENDOUS SINS

he would hold your face as he’s going absolutely feral stop and then give you sloppy little kisses all around cuz he loves you 💔💔

i don’t think he’d bite & leave hickeys to “mark his territory” or whatever… that’d be a different character in heat 🌝 (that character comes later in these headcanons hehe get it because this text is green get it and anyways nvm)

so anywho he’d definitely leave smooches all over you and would just make you feel so loved and would give you ALLL the fucking attention

instead of being the type of dude to say that shit like “good girl/boy” “good job” “you’re doing well”… i can’t really see that idk maybe that’s just me??

^^ i think he’d probably say more things like “you’re so beautiful when you do that” “i’m so grateful to have somebody like you” yknow???

“(Y/N), don’t stop that, please… you should just look at how amazing you look right now.”

he’s so cute though definitely a soft dom that would make you feel all good n happy n loved and hhhhhhhhhhhh

Albedo

FINALLY I CAN WRITE FOR ALFREDO SAUCE HOLY FUCKING SHIT

please IVE WANTED TO WRITE FOR HIM SO LONG PLEASE YALL DONT EVEN KNOW HES LITERALLY MY FAV GENSHIN CHARACTER YALL PLS

anyways

jesus omfg he’s such a hot dom GUYS GUYS IVE BEEN WAITING TO RANT TO SOMEBODY (besides my magnificent partner they are so amazing for listening to my bullshit) ABOUT HOW DOM ALBEDO WOULD BE IN BED

for starters he’d tie you up. not just wrists but fucking ankles too

also while he’s fucking you he’d give you this look of like?? as if he’s studying you?? yk like examining you for a test or some shit yess me next master ngh🌝

would also have this look of just DISINTEREST while he’s going ham with you, like almost like he’s bored??😭😭 just so unphased

^^ just imagine him staring at you blankly PLEASE THAT IS SO INCREDIBLY FUNNY TO ME CUZ ITS SO TRUE IDK (and it’s hot)

absolutely he’d tame your attitude so fucking fast. such a big tease omg help

honestly he’s totally a giver- like he’s kinda not human so bro prolly dgaf about some of that shit anyways but imagining this scrumptious man slightly creasing his brows before releasing? eye and ear candy

(guys i promise i don’t just like him cuz of his massive fucking cock i actually just like him cuz his lore i swear-)

“Oh… did that feel nice, (Y/N), hm? Right there, was it?”

let me be your test subject pls

would rub your head?? afterwards?? THATS SO FUCKING RANDOM BUT IT WOULD BE SO AWKWARD TOO LIKE ITS HIS FORM OF PRAISE OR SOME SHIT

his aftercare is literally “ok put ur pants back on, let’s get back to work”

why am i attracted to emotionally dismissive gentlemen?

Tighnari

ah yes, i missed writing for tighnari

shit he’s so he’s so

unlike gorou (when he’s in heat), tighnari doesn’t necessarily have to be in heat to be dom…

god he’s such a fucking tease, he’d EMBARRASS THE FUCK out of you and would just laugh

another man that just takes it slow but OH HO HOOO IS HE FUCKING GOOD AT IT

teaser whilst also he’s twirling your hair with a finger, rubbing your lip with his thumb, smirking at you, voice low, hand rubbing sweet but suggestive circles all over you YESS PLS SIR

“Tsk… so needy, aren’t you, (Y/N)? You can’t wait very long at all for it, can you? Go ahead and ask me for it then, little slut.”

he has such attitude 💔💔💔

sex with him is the definition of “breeding you” cuz it’s just that… intense… just hot n sweaty and mhmm we all know fs

would bite your back, stomach, chest, legs… would leave bruises n hickeys ALL over you omfg with no shame at all

he wouldn’t give you anything unless you asked or begged for it NICELY ofc

^^would rub your head with a small “good girl/boy” praise too YUMMYYYY

even though he’s a big tease, he’d also make sure you’re okay with everywhere he’s touching you and would make sure to give you a nice lil aftercare session right after <333

Childe

jesus yall i had a childe phase-

i mean he’s cool n shit but like idk i don’t vibe with him much anymore🙁 HES SO FUCKING FUN TO WRITE FOR THOUGH!!!!

he’d spank you, tie you up, shove your face into the sheets and make you take it, would laugh at you if you cried… yeah he’s fucking mean in bed

^^ he’d know what’s too far n shit but yeah

^^^ ALSO IS IT JUST ME WHOS ALWAYS GOTTEN HUGE VIBES THAT CHILDE IS DEFINITELY INTO SPANKING YOU?? like there’s definitely other characters BUT ESPECIALLY HIM LIKE???!?!?!?!?

sex with him is so hot help, probably hurts so fucking bad because his dick is probably massive but it’d feel so good and would be so worth it

i’m going to rot in hell for being such a whore

this is so foul to say but he’d make you wear a skirt while he… yeahhh from the back 🤰

I MEAN AM I WRONG??

^^ mf probably wants to see you in a maid dress & cat ears n shit too he seems like he’d be so down fucking bad

he’d totally grab your face and make you look at him while he’s doing his shit

“Feels nice, yeah? You want me to keep going?”

no matter how dom he may act, he will never not whimper

^^^I CANT SEE HIM GROANING LMFAOSO HES TOTALLY A WHIMPERER

…. and he’d get off to seeing you cry. or rather wants to see you cry

^^ CUZ HE’D BE ALL “aww does it hurt that bad? I’m sorry…” AND ACT ALL CHILDISH

nasty man smh

501 notes · View notes

bugcuti3 · 1 month

Text

What If Im Insane?

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀chapter one of More Than You Bargained For •°. *࿐ series masterlist

pairing : Luke Castellan x child of Aphrodite!reader

you remember how you figured out there was something wrong with you and made some genuine friends, or what you thought were genuine friends. You remember why you stopped talking to Luke Castellan.

Warnings: negative talk, neglect, mental health, negative thoughts, NOT PLOT ACCURATE, PRE TLT

aﾉn — AGAIN NOT A WRITER JUST A CRAZY CRAZY GIRL WITH A HYPERFIXATION. Reposting for the millionth time because im dumb as rocks LOLL

3.6k words

Luke Castellan and his stupid hovering.

Luke has been following you around camp for months now in a constant attempt to apologize and explain to you. You thought it didn't bother you. The whole not talking for a whole and suddenly hanging out all day together thing. You kept wanting to make excuses for him like, it's not like you were that close, you just went to the same school that doesn't mean anything.

You and Luke went to the same high school. You were both in the same grade, freshmen. You can't say you knew him, that's not true. You were best friends. Keyword: were.

He was always charming people even before he knew he was a demi-god. And so were you. Daughters of Aphrodite always have at least a handful of passionate admirers. None of them stood out, of course, you liked the attention well and good but you decided that when you fell in love you wanted it to be just right.

Not too tall. Not too short. Not short-tempered. Not abrasive. Just right.

He always stood out to you. And now looking back you were pretty sure he thought the same about you.

See, while you never really talked. The odd glances weren't forgettable, almost as if you could sense the other was different. just like you.

He didn't owe you friendship. You knew that but it stung that the one last piece you had of home seemed to forget the first time you both noticed that you and him were one and the same.

You thought you were going crazy. With both ADHD and dyslexia, you thought it was just your luck that you would have yet another thing wrong with your brain. You were convinced that your ugly brain had been mistakenly put into the body of a pretty girl.

The final straw had to be your favorite art teacher turning into something that more closely resembled a bat…no a dragon? You didn't don't know. Turned out that pretending to enjoy your art pieces and treating you like a daughter was just a ploy to get you close enough to bite your head off. But why???

It was all too much. You had about 30 seconds to react before you found a way to defend yourself and she burst into gold flecks of ash.

You splash cold water on your face in the bathroom for about the millionth time. I have got to get on some medication. The realization that you must genuinely be going insane suddenly felt incredibly heavy in your mind. so heavy it felt like your shoulders could no longer hold up your head. Or your body for that matter. Oh god, I have to sit down.

You rush into one of the stalls in the bathroom. And sit on the floor, practically crushing your head between your knees. Come on get it together, you're stronger than this. Nevermind. Large tears start to stream down your face. You make an effort to wipe them away harshly, making your face red and raw in the process. It's no use. You'll end up one of those people that get put away in an institution. You'll never be normal as much as you pretend to be.

Then the door of the bathroom opens. Shit. you cover your mouth in desperation to cover up the sobs that have turned more into hiccups when someone speaks.

“Hello? Is someone in here?”.

You are not sure why you bother to respond, the situation is hardly funny but you make a joke anyway for reasons you can't explain.

“No”.

The person chuckles and stands there for a second. Listening you guess, deciding whether they care or not. Why would they care why the girl in the bathroom is ugly crying on the floor?

“Can I come in?”.

You imagine the only reason you agree is because you miss that. Being understood. You don't acknowledge the thought usually but in this moment of desperation, you're willing to let someone in.

The stupid dirty bathroom stall that is.

You stand up to unlock the stall door not bothering to open the door for your bathroom company. You sit back down on the floor, I know gross but the sitting options are a little limited. Especially with the new addition.

“Hi”.

Why did it have to be him?

“Hi, Luke”.

“Sorry, I know it's kinda weird for me to ask to come into your bathroom stall”.

You laugh a little, continuing to wipe the tears off your face.

“It's okay”.

He smiles at you

“I think I'm going crazy”, you confess honestly.

He hesitates to respond for a second, probably mulling over the idea of calling the school counselor to deal with you instead.

“Me too”, he adds meeting your eyes.

Now that makes your ears perk up.

“What do you mean?”.

“I think we're the same… I mean I'm sorry about the art teacher…I know you liked her”

At that moment it should've been strange that Luke said that you both were the same but what stood out was why he knew you liked the art teacher and how he knew what had happened.

“How do you know that?”.

“I mean I was walking by and looked in the little window on the door y’know? And the room was a mess and I started asking around what happened to her, right? And everyone was pretending like she never even existed, nevermind the fact that she worked here”.

“No not that, how did you know I like- liked her?”, the event is so fresh in your mind, that you forget she is gone now.

“Oh”. He responds sheepishly and his ears turn a shade of red.

“I stay late for sports and when I pass by you're always there I don't know…I just notice you I guess”

“Oh okay”. You are about to leave it there but you suddenly remember when he said that you were the same. What did he mean by that?

“What do mean? Were the same?”.

“I guess I'm not sure myself but I have this friend. Her name is Thalia. I just get this feeling when I'm with her and I get the same feeling with you, I can't describe it”.

Okay, now it just sounds like he can't keep it in his pants. You turn your head to the side avoiding eye contact.

“Not that!! I just! I told you I can't explain it- oh god now I sound like an idiot”, his hand goes up to facepalm himself with a loud smack.

You turn your head back to face him and laugh at the fact that his ears have somehow turned an even deeper shade of red.

“Hey, you stopped crying”, he says as he removes his hand from his face.

“Oh yeah, I didn't even notice”.

You take your hand and wipe at your now dry face.

Luke and You sit there for a good thirty minutes as he explains the odd things that have been happening to him, school, and everything in between.

It was a short conversation but you swear you've never felt so understood before. It was as if he opened the top of your head and read all of your most deep and insecure thoughts. It felt…good.

You thought after that you had finally gained a real friend. A best friend even. And it seemed like you had for about a good couple of days. He introduced you to his friend Thalia and even invited you to eat with them. You felt seen. You had a pretty big friend group but it was always surface level it felt natural to have all the pretty girls sit at lunch together. That's just how things had to be you thought.

But now you can say you had real friends. friends that understood every part of you, even the ugly parts. They were easy to get along with. You had quickly become best friends. Going to each other's houses, and riding your bikes together, your freshman year finally started looking up!

Until one day they weren't at the lunch table as usual. Okay weird? But who knows maybe they caught the same stomach bug, they’ll be here tomorrow.

Maybe a doctor's appointment? A cold? A vacation? A terminal illness?

It had been a month since you had seen either Luke or Thalia. And it hurt. Bad.

The whole experience had brought up some ugly memories.

Your father left you with your grandma when you were just a baby. A stupid irresponsible decision on his part as she could barely take care of you let alone herself. Your dad told you that your mother died in childbirth. That was probably why he hated you. You took her away from him and there was nothing you could do to apologize.

You wouldn't see Luke again until the end of that month. A particular bad monster encounter led you to camp-half blood. A sanctuary recently made for demigods. Demigods like you apparently.

You had been at camp for a couple of days now, not that you could see much of it while you were in the infirmary. A new long scar made its way up the length of your neck. Injuries made from magic were always the hardest to heal an Apollo kid had told you.

You insecurely scratch at the new addition as you are escorted to the Hermes cabin. Where you would be staying till you found your place I guess.

After whoever was escorting you left, you didn't bother to remember his name and even if you had you definitely wouldn't now. Now that you saw him.

Luke Castellan, son of Hermes. Gods what a joke.

It was getting annoying now. When you first arrived at the Hermes cabin you were shocked when your eyes met Luke Castellan. His eyes trailed all over your face trying to figure out if you were a vision created by his brain to trick him. His eyes grew to saucers when he realized you were real. His smile grew when he realized that he was right. You two were the same. Demigods. no longer separated. you got here safe.

As quickly as his smile grazed your face it fell when his eyes made their way down to the new long scar that has crawled up your neck.

You didn't know it then but after Thalia, he was absolutely desperate for a piece of home and some reassurance that someone familiar to him wouldn't be ripped away from him again. So when he saw the new rough scar that ruined your once soft beautiful skin, his heart dropped to his stomach. The new realization hit him like a ton of bricks that yes while you got here safe and sound he almost lost you too.

A heavy sigh racks his lungs as he steps closer to you. Your face fails you when your eyes meet his, forgetting your anger you smile widely at him and launch yourself into his arms for a hug. You fit together like a puzzle and you almost forget everything that you lost to get here. The hug should feel strange and awkward but it doesn't it feels right and safe. You let out a relieved sigh and pry yourself from his arms to get a look at his face.

Luke gently traces the scar on your neck with a look of remorse and sorrow and you can't place why yet. Desperate, the words come out of his mouth like word vomit, he's so excited to see you that he's surprised that it isn't actual vomit.

“You're here it's really you! You're here and you're safe. What happened? Oh, look at your neck. What did this? Who did this?”

You shake your head vigorously in hopes the faster you shake your head the faster the worry will leave his trembling voice.

“I'm fine I’m fine”.

Still tracing the new addition to your skin he says shamefully, “Doesn't look like it”.

You take his hand off your throat and hold it by his side in your hand.

Suddenly you remember your second best friend, Thalia. you start looking around the Hermes cabin excitedly, anticipating your second reunion, but it never comes.

Again your eyes reach the Hermes boy searching wordlessly for an explanation “Thalia?” you say simply.

His head hangs low avoiding eye contact almost anticipating this question from your lips.

His reaction makes you sick to your stomach. “Luke? Where is she?”.

He raises his head finally meets your eyes and simply shakes his head. His lips are unable to utter the words in some kind of refusal to admit the truth.

The betrayal of losing Thalia is added to the long list of other betrails the gods have bestowed upon you. The sudden gain and loss of a friend strikes you deep in your gut.

Realizing this you take a big step away from Luke's arms. His blood runs cold.

“You left,” you say slowly and calmly.

Remembering the love and understanding that he had stolen from you just a month before. Being the son of the god of thieves suits him.

“Wait you have to understand-” he attempts to defend himself before you cut him off.

“You left me! You took Thaila with you and you both just left? Knowing we were the same you left me?”.

You're not able to hide the pain and sorrow in your voice and you cant bother to care. You deserve to feel abandoned. Because that's what happened, you were abandoned. Again.

“You don't understand- it wasn't a planned-out thing! Things got too much- we left in the middle of the night! We found Annabeth! We couldn't go back for you- i- im-”.

His attempts to explain come out unfinished and choppy leading them to sound like nothing more than excuses. Curse his stupid mouth. His mind is running a million miles an hour trying to figure out what to say, anything to stop you from coming to your own terrible conclusions. Of course that doesn't go to plan either.

“Save it Castellan”. It took all your strength to turn and walk away from him, if you were any weaker you're sure your legs would've failed you and you would've fallen to your knees right there.

…

Ever since your sour reunion with Luke, he hasn't strayed too far from your side following you like he was a dog and you were his man. Every word uttered from his mouth was another attempt to change your mind about his betrail. Thats what it was in the end though, a betrayal.

It was fine you decided. You didn't need him. You didn't need anyone. If people wanted to abandon you that was just fine, you would just leave them before they left you.

So every day and at every moment he spent either trying to explain to you or trying to coax you with sweet words and gifts. From lunch, to even the bathrooms Luke would give you bits and pieces of the story to try to change your mind. Doing everything in his power to convince you that he did not betray you but that it was all just a big misunderstanding.

But all you were hearing were excuses and lies.

It was late at night and you were getting ready for bed in the camp bathroom, brushing your teeth angrily and staring at yourself in the mirror. It has been a long day of your loyal dog nipping at your heels. At least you could find peace in the bathroom.

“Can you please just talk to me?”.

Nevermind.

You were committed to the silent treatment but even you had your limits, and besides his persistent attempts to gain your favor back were kind of endearing. If you could even call it that.

“What is there to talk about?”. You say simply spitting into the sink. The water washes away your toothpaste that has been stained red.

He responds baffled and exasperated, “What do you mean what is there to talk about?”.

You look at him in the mirror and quirked up your brow, if you were going to accept his apology you weren't going to make it easy for him.

He rolls his eyes, it's obvious you know exactly what he's talking about but he explains anyway. It's been months of him following you around like a lost puppy maybe you really did forget.

“Us, me, you? Ring any bells?”.

You finally turn to face him with an unimpressed look on your face.

“Please…say anything, scream, yell, hit me I just- I can't take the silence anymore”. Luke sounds desperate now. You've failed to realize how much this is actually affecting him. His last bit of home wants nothing to do with him.

His plee gets the better of you. The desperation in his voice a tone you know all too well. A tone that you recognize from your own, just a child begging her father for forgiveness and attention for a crime she did not commit.

“Can I be honest with you?”.

“Always”. He states simply. As if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Great come on”. You grab your small of toiletries and his hand and lead him out of the bathroom and into the woods.

“It's late you know, the harpies will be out soon”.

“What are you scared Castellan? I never took you for the rule follower type”, you smirk at him.

Now you were just trying to get under his skin.

He missed this playful tone in your voice, he’ll do anything if it means it'll stick around. So he plays along.

“Me a rule follower? Never”.

You reach a small clearing in the forest and settle yourself onto a log, patting the place next to you and inviting him a seat.

He takes it leaning in, it's been too long not hearing your voice. So he hangs on to every word you offer him scared that it’ll be the last time he hears them.

“Perfect so I imagine you won't go around spreading my dirty laundry”, You smile mischievously at him. Now you're just stalling and he knows it.

“Spill it”. Now it's his turn to spread the sass.

“Fine fine, but you have to promise to not interrupt. I'm really opening up here”.

He takes your hand in his and nods in reassurance. A wordless response that seems to say “Go on I'm listening”.

You take a deep breath, thankful for the pressure of his hand in your own. It helps stop your hand from shaking.

“I'll be honest and say I think you're an asshole for leaving me behind”.

His mouth opens with something to say but you place your finger over his lips to stop any words from spilling out. You know what he's going to say anyway. He's said it about a million times already.

“I know I know you're sorry, it's okay I believe you”. You take your finger off his lips and look away.

“Being here has just been hard you know, its a lot to process”.

You’d turn your head to look at him, but you can already see his intense and understanding stare in the corner of your eye and you don't know if you could look at him without breaking down. So instead you continue.

“He abandoned me you know… my dad. When I got a little older I would call and text him, begging him to come back for me…to love me”.

You look up at the stars now. The stars are so bright tonight, it must be your mothers…whoever she was…idea of an apology.

“I never knew why he left me, I assumed it was because he couldn't afford to take care of me.

It was just all because he said I looked too much like my mother”. Your face grows hot a red. You've never admitted this to anyone.

“Right before I came to camp. My grandma-she-”. Much like Luke, the words get stuck in your throat, scared that saying that your grandpa had passed would make the fact you were completely alone true.

“I was in the foster system for a little bit”. You stiffen and straighten your back, doing your best to regain your composure.

“They couldn't keep me for long though, I ran away before they could stick me with some random family. So it was just me alone for a while. That's when some monster attacked me and gave me this sick souvenir”.

You attempt to lighten the mood and point to the scar on your neck.

But the weight of your words are heavy and the way Luke stays silent makes it obvious that the joke didn't exactly land.

“So when me and Thalia left…”. Luke trails off connecting the dots, imagining all the horrible things you must have felt.

“Gods, I'm such an idiot”. His head falls into his hands. His shoulders were not able to hold up his head anymore as now they were holding pounds of guilt on them.

“You didn't know, no one does”. You pat him on the back.

“I’ll be honest I needed to think about things anyway, you know finding out that my mom isn't dead…but also some random goddess. It's a lot to think about, I don't think I would've been good company anyway”.

You smirk at him when he finally looks back up at you. Unfallen tears clear in his eyes.

“I am so sorry”. His voice cracks a little.

“I know you are”. You smile sadly at him.

You clear your throat, “Well let's head to bed, I wouldn't want the harpies to eat us after such a heartfelt conversation”.

You pick yourself up from your makeshift seat on the log and wipe the invisible dirt off your shorts.

You offer a hand to him. A symbol of forgiveness. A silent promise to stick to the other side. No more abandoning. No matter the circumstances. He didn't know how wrong he would be.

#luke castellan #pjo tv show #pjo fandom #percy jackson #luke castellan fic #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan fanfic #pjo luke #luke castellan x you #the lightning thief #percy jackon and the olympians #percy pjo #pjo disney+

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noxxchive · 26 days

Text

✦ Dazai and Chuuya childhood headcanons (2/2) ✦

part 1

!!! THIS POST CONTAINS STORMBRINGER SPOILERS !!!

♫ Orchard - OMORI

✧ warnings : STORMBRINGER SPOILERS・mentions of s*icide, death, hospitalization, alcoholism, etc.・angst・pure angst…・ooc (???)

✧ a/n : got way too long im sorr… but I love chuuya so much and all these headcanons have been eating dust in the back of my head and im so happy (lie) to finally post them

w/c : 950

!!! these are just personal headcanons and are not accurate to the canon story !!!

✦ Chuuya :

Chuuya’s parents weren’t blessed with a child even after years of marriage…

…So when he was born, they were so happy that they celebrated 3 days and nights (like the real Chuuya Nakahara !!)

Such a sweet boy… very polite and a tiny bit shy

He actually had an amazing bond with both his parents

And they loved him a lot, too!

How mini Chuuya would help his mom around the house, how he would randomly tell her that he loves her :,^)

Chuuya was probably interested in his father’s work (military doctor, like the real Chuuya’s father!!)

AUGHH he would peek at his dad working with those big blue curious eyes

Also, unlike Dazai, I headcanon that Chuuya has siblings!

2 little sisters!!

When his first little sister was born, he was probably around 3 or 4

Was quick to grow attached to his sister

And when his second sister came around, he was around 7

Was very overprotective of his sisters, and had a big soft spot for them

Would piggyback carry their younger sister every morning to school while holding his other sisters hand

Brilliant kid

Adored by absolutely everyone and everything

Chuuya and the family dinners with the rest of the Nakahara family SIGHHH

His mom always worried about him not eating enough (even though he did.)

His dad developed this hobby and habit of checking Chuuya and his sisters’ heights and mark them on the wall

Chuuya wasn’t the happiest when he figured that his younger sister was nearly the same height as him…

And regarding Stormbringer and how he was put in a lab…

Ohhh how his mom was losing her mind over Chuuya’s father allowing such a thing

His family kind of… grew distant and fell apart from then on

Constant arguing between his parents while he was in the lab… how his sister would cover their younger sister’s ears each time they’d argue

She’d ask where Chuuya had gone every now and then, but it was like a forbidden topic in the house

His mom would either tear up or just lash out on his sister

And his dad would yell and cuss her out, saying things like “Goddammit stop asking stupid questions! He’s fine for god’s sake!!! Be patient and he’ll be back sooner than you think!!!”

Chuuya’s dad wasn’t very happy with the decision he made either

Regretting it like crazy and losing sleep, losing focus…

And once the news broke that their one and only son was dead (aka his clone… fuck stormbringer bro…)

His family was worse than ever before.

Chuuya’s dad cried… a lot. Fell into being an alcoholic for a long time

His sisters? Despite their young age and how they couldn’t wrap their heads around the idea of death…

They were devastated. Completely had their hearts and souls shattered

But his mom… she was the worst out of them all

It broke her so much that she couldn’t even cry over her son’s death

She was left in a daze, unaware of her surroundings and just… in her own world

Though, once it registered in her mind? How she would scream and cry at odd hours of the night, begging for Chuuya…

She would push away anyone who would try to comfort her, hit them and curse them out, only wanting Chuuya

Even though Chuuya’s ‘death’ had sunk in and she understood it, she’d scream at everyone to get away from her and that ‘only Chuuya can come close to her’

S*icide attempts became a regular thing

…the amount of times Chuuya’s dad was called during work hours and just rushed home to stop his wife from taking her life…

His sister lost sleep and stopped being the top student at school because of how difficult everything had become

Their younger sister was a bit better, considering she was small

But it still hurt, she’d call Chuuya out of habit, just to remember that he was never gonna answer her calling out to him

His mom’s situation got so bad that she was hospitalized for years

And even now that the entire Nakahara family has accepted Chuuya’s ‘death’

His mom hasn’t. She’s doing a lot better than before getting hospitalized but…

She always seems to be spaced out. She doesn’t smile or laugh, and even when she does… it seems forced and it’s only for a brief moment

His mom doesn’t talk much, not to anyone

She often spends her time talking to framed pictures of Chuuya. She still cries every now and then, but tries to hide it…

And honestly? I think that Chuuya has considered going back to his family

He’s coincidentally seen his sisters and made sure they got home safely from school/work while watching from afar… then return to his own work

It scares him to go back, not only because of him putting their lives on the line for being a mafia executive

But also because he’s supposed to be ‘dead’. That’s what his family believed and has learned to live with…

So if he were to show up at his childhood home, he’d make them confused

And he can’t even imagine how they would react if he were to go back

So Chuuya just watches over them from a distance…

But maybe, just maybe one day he’ll gather up the courage and listen to the voice in his head telling him to go back

That day won’t be anytime soon, not now. He can’t go back until he’s sure the time is right for him to do so.

Until then, Chuuya just prays that they’ll stay safe and alive…

That’s when he can return to his family, his home…

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peachhcs · 5 days

Text

losing the championships

hughes!sister x will smith au (samy + will)

will's self-doubt creeps in after losing the finals making him snap at the one person who's always there for him, almost making her turn her back on him.

2.6k words

warnings: a bit of angst, arguing, crying, this is a sad post in general

ik im feeding y’all rn but i feel weird putting this out in two days and not now haha, but guys you know i had to do it. i had to get the angst out. i think this is like the first angsty post in the series?? i hate when there is angst, but i love writing it lmao. i'm not sure how accurate some of this is, but i hope the trio stays on for another season!! i'd actually be devestated if they don't. anyways keep requesting!! <3

au masterlist

it didn’t feel real. nothing felt real watching her best friends crumple to the ice in utter defeat and heartbreak just two days after winning the semifinals. samy stood up in the stands nearly motionless while everything around her fell silent. she didn’t think those moments were actually real whenever they played in movies, but here she was hardly focusing on anything but her best friends in tears.

her eyes couldn’t leave ryan on his knees with his face in the ice. she just wanted to wrap all of them into her arms so none of them would feel this type of pain anymore.

the stupid jumbotron panned to everyone’s reactions, basically putting the boys on full blast when they most definitely didn’t want anyone to see them crying like they were. samy’s heart only broke further when she finally looked down at her boyfriend trying to hold himself together while comforting a sobbing ryan and teary gabe.

her own eyes grew teary seeing those three so destroyed not knowing what was next for any of them. that was probably the scariest part.

when will searched for samy’s gaze the waterworks broke like a dam for the couple. the youngest hughes was completely crying and will’s shame settled into his skin that he lost the game without even scoring a single point.

their coach urged the boys down the tunnel before the cameras could get any more shots of them. samy tried pulling herself together, but her hiccuping cries didn’t stop slipping out no matter how hard she tried holding them in.

boston’s side of the lobby was nearly silent which almost mirrored michigan’s team two days ago. suddenly, seeing those happy memories wasn’t as easy anymore. samy’s mind raced wondering if this game really was the last for her favorite trio or if they’d stay on one more season with boston.

thirty minutes passed before the bc boys slowly trickled out of the locker room. their bloodshot eyes and tear stained faces were enough to send more tears into samy’s own eyes. her lip quivered waiting for her boyfriend to appear, but he didn’t come out after his usual spot behind ryan and gabe. the two boys found samy’s gaze, frowning even deeper.

“hey, i’m so sorry. i-i have no words,” samy brought them into big hugs hoping to ease a bit of their ache.

“what a fucking night,” ryan muttered bitterly.

“you guys played well. those refs were idiots making calls,” the brunette shook her head.

“will’s still in there. he’s..he’s not taking this one too well. you can go in if you want, but he may explode. I i don’t want you to think he’s mad at you, he’ll just find something to take his anger out on,” gabe explained briefly. samy’s eyes slid towards the locker room doorway where her boyfriend hid.

“don’t worry, i know how he gets. I’ll see if i can talk to him,” she couldn’t be scared of will.

he was her best friend and boyfriend. he’d never intentionally hurt her and if he said things, she knew he was just angry with himself, not her. the girl shuffled her way towards the locker room trying to put on a brave face for will’s sake.

she knocked on the door before slowly pushing it open. her eyes scanned the practically empty room until she found her boyfriend slumped in his stall at the end of the benches. her hands trembled as she slid further in and leaned against the door.

“will?”

his eyes snapped towards hers. he looked like a mess and that only unleashed more waterworks seeing him in this state. it wasn’t one samy saw him a lot in, so when she did, it hurt extra hard.

“if you’re here to try and make me feel better, i don’t wanna hear it,” the boy mumbled bitterly which quickly caught samy off guard.

she wasn’t expecting that from him so immediately.

“i’m not. just here to be with you,” the girl said, trying to hide the shake in her voice.

“well, i’m not really in the mood to be around anyone right now. just go. i’ll be out in a few minutes,” the bitterness in his voice definitely stung, but samy tried shaking him off knowing he was just upset.

“will..” she inched forward, wanting to reach out to him. he looked as if anyone touched him he’d just break into a million pieces.

“i said go. i don’t need your fucking sympathy. i feel feel like shit,” the blonde snapped this time making samy instantly draw back.

“i know you’re upset, i get it. this loss fucking sucks. i’m just trying—”

“you don’t fucking get it, samy! i just lost the championship game 2-0. we scored zero points. you know how fucking embarrassing that is? i’ve been trying to prove myself all season about how good i can be and then i lose the championship game. you’ll never fucking get it!” there it was.

will’s tone rose with anger and hurt all mixed into one. samy swallowed the nerves climbing higher in her stomach as she tried remembering none of this was really directed at her. she was just the person will was getting his anger out on.

“i-i do get it, will. remember my championship game in december? we choked. i-i get it, i do. it sucks and i’m so sorry it ended this way. i wish it didn’t—”

“stop saying you get it. it’s not the fucking same. you’ve never had to work for anything in your life because of your family!”

the blonde’s harsh words finally hit a nerve. samy’s face twisted and she didn’t know anymore if he really didn’t mean it or not, but through the anger, will realized what he said.

“samy..i didn’t—”

“fuck you, will. you of all people should know how hard i’ve worked to be where i am right now. i know you’re upset about everything right now, but you don’t need to bring me down to make yourself feel better. don’t bother waiting up. i’m leaving with ryan and gabe,” samy stormed out of the locker room before will could say anything more.

the tears streamed down her face as soon as she was in the lobby again. ryan and gabe instantly noticed her distraught expression, immediately going to her.

“shit, what happened?” ryan muttered.

“can we just go? i can’t deal with him right now,” samy choked out. the two exchanged a worried glance, but obliged.

the whole ride back to the hotel was nothing but silence as everyone reeled from the disappointing night.

—

gabe let samy camp out in his hotel room for the night. he didn’t dare ask her what happened in the locker room knowing she’d tell him if she wanted to; however, the dark-haired boy wanted to go knock some sense into will knowing he most definitely snapped too hard at samy which made her want to avoid him.

it was almost two in the morning when there was a small knock. still awake, the two exchanged wary glances, so gabe got the door.

he pulled it open to reveal a very weary, teary-eyed, sad, and frustrated will. for a moment, gabe almost let him in, but he stopped himself because he didn’t want the boy blowing up at samy again. the girl sat nervously on the bed just out of sight of the door listening in on them.

“is she here?” will rasped out, voice dry from the amount he cried after samy left the locker room and getting back to the hotel.

“i’m not sure i wanna answer that,” gabe stood his ground.

“come on, perreault. leno said he didn’t have her,” will tried again.

hearing how wrecked he sounded broke samy’s heart all over again. gabe gazed back at her, a look in his eyes asking her if she really wanted to see him.

even though he insulted her, something in samy was still trying to justify it for him being upset and angry. she really wanted to believe he didn’t mean it. with that, the girl crawled off the bed and shuffled her way behind gabe’s 6’1 figure.

“we can talk in your room,” samy mumbled.

“o-okay,” the shake in her boyfriend’s voice made samy want to lunge herself at him and make all the pain go away, but she had to stand up for herself still.

“you’re sure?” gabe wondered before letting her go.

“i’m sure. i’ll see you tomorrow,” she rubbed his arm and stepped around him.

her and will walked three doors down where his hotel room was. it was basically hers too since most of her stuff was scattered across the room over the past few days they’ve been there.

will shut the door behind them. the brunette looked at him expectantly knowing she said everything she could. a beat of silence passed before the tears quickly filled the blonde’s eyes and he started completely sobbing in front of her. he crumpled against the door, choking sobs falling from his lips as he body sunk into the ground.

for a second, samy just stared at him until her instincts kicked in and she went to him without hesitation this time.

“oh will,” she curled into his side, stroking his hair as his body fell into hers.

“i’m so sorry. i didn’t mean any of it. i don’t know why i said it. i was upset and i know that’s not an excuse at all,” the boy rambled into her shoulder.

“i know this loss hurts, but taking your anger out on people with harsh words isn’t gonna make it better,” samy said.

“i know, i know. i-i’m so sorry. i shouldn’t have lashed out on you. that’s not fair to you at all.”

“i was just trying to comfort you like i always do after losses,” the girl hated seeing her boyfriend so upset like this. his tears dripped everywhere on her even after samy tried wiping them away with her thumb.

“i know. i shouldn’t have pushed you away like that. i just.. I didn’t want you to see me like that,” will’s voice grew softer at his small admission.

“what do you mean like that?” i’ve seen you lose games before.”

“i don’t know if this is how you felt after your soccer game, but i felt so pathetic for losing a championship game where we didn’t even score. my pride was hurt and i worried you’d think i wasn’t good enough anymore because i lost like that,” his words continued breaking samy’s heart.

she grabbed ahold of his face so he was looking at her, “i’d never think any less of you because you lost. it happens. you’re not pathetic for losing and i promise it doesn’t make me look at you any differently.”

“i guess i’m just always scared you’ll get sick of me and realize i’m not actually worth it. that and a hundred other emotions were just going through me and it came out really wrong,” will frowned.

a small sigh escaped the girl’s lips hearing the boy she’s known all her life doubt himself so much. “you’re always worth it, will. nothing’s ever gonna change that for me, okay? i’m always gonna be in love with you and wanna be around you win or lose, whatever's happening in your career. you’re stuck with me,” a small laugh escaped their lips at the last part.

“i know that. i just get really doubtful when i get down on myself and hard losses like that happen.”

“i get it, but i’m not going anywhere, okay? you played your best tonight, those refs were making shit calls and unfortunately, denver just figured us out.”

a small nod came from will. he pushed his forehead onto samy’s just trying to ease all the thoughts running through his mind while focusing on the way she ran her fingers gently through his hair and around his curls. some of his roots were rough and red from the way he pulled harshly on them earlier, so her gentle motions slowly eased the ache.

“i’m scared that i don’t know what’s gonna happen next with any of us,” will spoke again after a small silence.

he lifted his head again to meet his girlfriend’s gaze before leaning it against the door.

“are you gonna sign on?” the idea played in samy’s mind as well after tonight’s game.

the decision was entirely up to the coaches of each of the guy’s respective teams, but considering how well all of them played and improved in one season, they may want them sooner rather than later.

“i don’t know. it’s up to whether the sharks want me now or later,” will answered.

“have you talked to ryan or gabe? what they may do?”

“washington’s pushing closer to the playoffs. they may want ryan on for it. i dunno. gabe’s most likely gonna stay. i don’t think the rangers are quite ready for him yet. the ideal situation is we all stay one one more season with boston,” will explained a bit, his fingers drawing mindles shapes into samy’s leg.

“what do the sharks say about you?” the girl wondered with a raised eyebrow.

“you know what they say about me. they want me now. they wanna wait another year. it’s..sort of up to me i guess,” will shrugged a bit, avoiding eye contact.

“would you sign on now?” she rephrased her question from earlier.

“if i sign on now, my entire life gets flipped around in a week and i have to move to california, but then i’d possibly get to play in the playoffs. if i wait, i get to stay with boston and everyone for another year and more importantly, see you more frequently than if i was in california,” samy rolled her eyes at the last part—he was always so down bad for her.

“don’t make the decision based on me, will. you’ll see me still.”

“i know, but i think i do subconsciously anyway. you’re just my life now,” his words sent a deep blush across the girl’s cheeks.

“i’m flattered,” she rubbed the side of his cheek making him lean into her touch.

“you’re everything to me, samy. i’m really, really in love with you and i can’t imagine my life without you in it,” will smiled softly.

the girl flushed, but returned his smile. hearing those kinds of things come out of his mouth was still something the brunette was getting used to even after 9 months of being together.

“you’re everything to me too, will. i love you a lot.”

the boy leaned forward to place a gentle, yet loving kiss on her lips. they melted into one another, small sighs escaping their mouths at the contact. her hands tugged at his curls while his own curved around her waist, pulling her impossibly closer like he needed her as close as possible or else he couldn’t function.

part of it was true. without samy, will was lost like a fish in the ocean. she was a part of him and he was a part of her. they were intertwined and always would be. her soft lips soothed every single thought and self-doubt will had because as long as his favorite girl believed in him, that was all that mattered.

“i know i said this already, but thank you for being here. it means a lot to me,” will said when they pulled apart.

“i’d never miss this. i’ll always skip classes for you,” she grinned.

the boy beamed, pulling her back in for another kiss.

the two didn’t get into bed until nearly 3:30 in the morning. samy curled into will’s side, his arm tightly around her as she laid on his chest. the tension in the air completely dissipated and the cries died down. things felt okay again.

they’d sleep tangled in one another all night knowing the next morning samy had to catch her plane back to michigan and will would be left with one big decision that would decide what plane he had to catch.

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