What If This Was My Last Straw - Tumblr Posts
Vash calling his baby "lil seedling 🌱" 🥺
This hits so hard after finishing Tristamp that I am bawling in real life. Balling with a W.
HE WOULD LOVE HIS CHILD SO MUCH HE WOULD BE SUCH A GOOD FATHER AND SO GRATEFUL AND HAPPY AND breaks down into hysterical sobbing
JO YOU ARE SO SO SO SO EVIL FOR THIS I AM FERAL AND SOBBING
this will be haunting me for the next month thanks for the emotional trauma omfg. because trouble and luke????
He’s made a home of you.
HELLO WHAT YOU CAN'T START WITH THIS I WAS NOT PREPARED TO FEEL THINGS THIS EARLY
“You’re not supposed to be here, are you? Are you mine?” “I’m always going to be yours,” he says with no hesitation, “Four years later, and there is still not one living thing worth losing you,”
oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my go
“Tell me what I need to hear. Even if it’s not true…Even if you’re not real,” “It’s always going to be you and me. I’ll love you until the end of my days and then some.”
EVEN IF ITS NOT TRUE god she just needs comfort and even if it isn't real she wants luke any way that she can have him jesus christ i cannot with this and "and then some"??? i am forever struck by people saying not just for this rest of my life but past that
Luke picks up the pair of heels next to where he sets the sword against the wall, and like it’s nothing out of the sort, he gets on his knees.
the fact that he hjust did it like a habit is making me aljklafsng
You can hear the microwave whirring in the kitchen, your roommate none the wiser of the sound of two hearts breaking.
it's three hearts actually mine is crushed by now thanks
you comprehend now where he just came from. “I had to see you. I didn’t get to say goodbye when I left,
oh. OHHHH my god
D specifically told Zeus that he’d wage another if he was made to miss your big day.
we love Mr. D being a good dad
Time is a thief and you know that too well by now.
TIME IS A THIEF??!!! TIME IS A THIEF?????!!!!! you knew what you were doing you are simply evil for this sentence i am screaming because time is kronos obvs and luke being a thief as a son of hermes and also the lightning thief and so literally time is a thief. but also how trouble and luke only have stolen moments in time?? and something about how time steals the other away because they're at different stages in life when luke visits and time always steals him away bc he needs to go back, and how like kronos steals luke back from trouble to do more dastardly plans just like aiuhsgbdbk
you smile wistfully, and you keep your eyes shut for longer, because like this, it’s almost like he’s actually there in real time. In a world where things went your way, this would be his apartment too, and his clothes would be scattered around your shared bedroom like how they used to back in cabin 12. You always used to put them on The Chair, as he would call it—but Luke’s known to make a mess of your life regardless of your efforts.
in another life they could've had this life together i am shaking. and also the mess part like yes, the apartment/cabin and clothes, but how trouble's trying to move on a tiny bit and this is her at her most mature so far (i think), graduating and this is luke when they're still happy together and those memories are haunting her and his visits are making a mess of her life
The smile that lights up his face makes you realize he thinks he's still a part of this—you. And you miss him—even when he’s right here, fuck, you miss all the versions of him that have come to visit, even the ones you don’t know of yet.
this really fucking hurt me
I lost you so long ago, Luke. And you’re not mine anymore. I don't think you have been in a long time Even without all the glory in the world I would still be yours. I still am, even if I can’t bear it.
screaming crying throwing up i am SICK to my stomach because having that love that's so big and vast but hurts you so bad you can't bear it?? that is the shit.
“Just someone I used to know.”
so many people do this really cringingly but you did this so well omg
final thoughts: masterpiece. absolute masterpiece. the way you write is so heartbreaking and thoughtful and i love the characterization. and how trouble and luke are always at different points on their shared wavelength but always and irrevocably in love?? broke me. so i will be contemplating this for forever now
solipsism
a 'partners in crime' installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader
words: 5.1k
summary: (post-TLT) drink responsibly… trouble doesn’t; you punch luke in this lol (novelization spoilers? kinda canon-compliant)
The one where you finally pray to Hestia to keep your home safe, even if he's also trying to destroy it. Luke visits you four times during college, in a timeline opposite to yours (doctor x river song-coded) (lore expansion & explanation here) (Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader)
a/n: i hurt myself with this one. anyways its canon (to me) that we’re roommates now !!!! more to come like i promised even during my birthday break ! scream at me in the comments and feel free to reblog :)
(post 3/6, edited/betad @hotchfiles )
—
solipsism (the idea that only one’s mind is sure to exist)
You didn’t mean to send a prayer out into the world so strong that it would will an apparition of an Olympian, but burning cookies seems to be your specialty. Arguably, they weren’t the good kind, just the ones you grab in the freezer aisle of Walmart, and still, somehow they set your fire alarm off. Opening a window and waving through the smoke— Hestia, goddess of the hearth and home was standing next to the rickety dining table you bought off Facebook marketplace.
“Holy shit, you scared me!”
There’s mirth in her eyes at your reaction, though for all you know it could be annoyance—it’s not often that an immortal could be badgered enough to reveal themselves for an accident like this one.
“Dionysus was right. You’re too much like him for your own good,” she grins, taking a seat at the table like she’s an old friend. There’s a warmth to her unlike anyone you’ve met before—fire crackling in her eyes and an aura of serenity swaddling the air that you’ve never felt before in your student accomodations.
“I’m sorry I just… with all due respect, what’s going on?”
You go to toss the hot tray of cookies in the trash bin, before hesitating and putting them on your nicest plate. A gentle shove slides them over the table to the goddess, and she takes a crunch out of one happily.
“You were praying,” she states, like its common knowledge, “so strongly, in fact, I thought I’d make a visit to one of my most loyal devotees. Though in this case, you’re the object of his devotion, yes?”
Your hands are clasped across your lap and a familiar feeling spreads through you, then she jerks her hand up and points, “There. You’re doing it again. Y’know, it’s about time you start reciprocating the effort. Hermes’ son prays for you with intention.” You were thinking about Luke before she appeared—and hope glimmered like a tiny open flame. It’s still there, in the slow beating of your heart.
“He’s waging war with the gods. I don’t think he prays to them anymore,” you reason. Luke's offerings to the hearth must have been extinguished by the wrath he’s rained on Camp Half-Blood by now. The perfect storm.
“Not when it comes to you. Mortals never fail to surprise me. But it seems you’re a special case, my sweet. He’s made a home of you.”
To love Luke feels like having to keep a secret and never being able to tell anyone, but Hestia reaches for your hands across the table and looks at you knowingly.
“When I gave up my seat on Olympus for your father it wasn’t a sign of weakness, even if I did it so that others could be happy. I think your soul is a lot like mine in that you’ve given up so much of what you want to protect others. In turn, he’s doing the best he can to protect you; I listen to him every day, sweet girl. You are not weak for loving him still. There are generations of strength in your bones.”
“What else am I supposed to do? I search for him in everyone I meet and I’m not sure I’ll ever find that type of love again.”
These are thoughts you’d never told anyone—not Annabeth, not your father, not even yourself and surely never aloud.
“I hope you never do,” the goddess says, and you know it too.
i. no winter lasts forever (a night out after a drive home from virginia)
Flick. Flick.
“Come on, Hestia. Not you too. Don’t fail me now,” you mumble. The frigid metal of your zippo lighter rubs against your thumbs as you cup it in your hands, shielding the tiny flame that fights the harsh winter wind. Trying to focus as you lean against the brick of the Inferno, you take a deep inhale of smoke to warm your bones. Healing was never supposed to be easy.
Breathe in.
It’s somewhat of a routine you’ve made since getting back from visiting Annie. You’re a regular at this pub now—not even acclimated to the ins and outs of your sleepy college town, and though you don’t know the name of the hall your classes are in, you do know there’s a barstool in the corner of the Inferno with your name on it. There’s something funny about using your father’s gift as a form of fake id, and you wonder if he knows how heavily you indulge in your vices. Five vodka redbulls down the hatch have your knees feeling weak under the alley light until a stranger looms over you like a shadow.
“Those things are gonna kill you one day.”
Breathe out.
“Gods willing,” you laugh, stumbling over your boots and Luke catches you like he was never meant to let you go in the first place. The leather of his jacket is musky and his hair is buzzed.
Either you were wasted or uncaring of who he was (both), you toss him your car keys and climb into the passenger seat. It’s a silent ride to your apartment besides you giving him the directions and Luke wonders how bad he must have hurt you for you to lay out for a stranger and waste away like this. But he’s the farthest thing from a stranger, even in this error in time and you’re still the daughter of the god of wine so after the third time you try to put your key in the lock he helps you because he hopes you’ll let him in.
“Y’know Annie would get a kick out of your haircut. Come inside.”
You’ve always been able to see right through him.
He’s standing in the hallway with his hand around your waist and he’s already broken too many of the titan’s orders by being here, so he scoffs, “You’re not gonna remember this by morning.” But you leave the door open anyway, dragging him by the wrist and your hand still feels the same in his even after all this time. What more is there to resist when there’s not much left of him to lose?
This is the last time, he reminds Kronos, and there are monstrous hands around his brain, but yours are still gently holding his heart. The little part of his soul that hasn’t been eaten away holds on for a bit longer, tethered to your being by the way your hands are tied.
“I can, if you want me to.”
He looks ready for war, and he is— yet you have him following you around the tiny living room almost in a trace as your arms loop around his neck. Luke doesn’t answer. He doesn’t know if you’d want to see him sober, especially when his absence is still fresh for you.
“Baby you look different from the last time we met,” you slur, stepping onto his feet as he takes you for a spin around the coffee table, dancing in the quiet. He’s older than you’ve ever seen him, voice deeper and colder. This is not the boy that ran from you in the forest many months ago. This is a man who’s seen horrors you haven’t lived through yet. You can deduce that he’s the cause of them too.
“So do you. Though still as beautiful as I remember,” he whispers like he’ll get struck for saying it. Your eyes are unfocused as he inspects your face, still soft and young with hope. The titan grips his features now, almost burning through his sense of self—though it’s not tangible he wonders if you could see it.
“I see you all the time. I just… usually have to drink enough to make it feel real. I just miss you.”
He looks pained at your words, and for a moment you wonder if he even heard you. Luke pushes you towards your room, an aura of darkness spreading through him like fire but he relents, pushing past the flames. He’s on borrowed time now, but Luke would gladly waste those minutes tucking you into bed.
Lifting your arms up, he pulls an old shirt of his over your shoulders, and his eyes catch onto the fact that you’re still wearing the dragon scale necklace he made you. Luke digs through your medicine cabinet while you sloppily wash your face and his calloused hands rub serums and moisturizer into your cheeks like how you taught him once upon a time. These are the things he won’t forget. Kronos can take it all away, as long as he gets to keep you. You lean against his chest and shut your eyes, scared that if you open them again he won’t be there.
“You’re not supposed to be here, are you? Are you mine?”
“I’m always going to be yours,” he says with no hesitation, “Four years later, and there is still not one living thing worth losing you,” he says, lips chasing after your fingertips as you trace his jaw. Your eyes flutter in exhaustion, and Luke’s eyes survey your room and he finds traces of you that he’s missed as he rubs your back lovingly like he has all the time in the world.
Your hands cup his face, making him look at you, and he surrenders himself to you as you pull him into a kiss. He’s a ticking time bomb about to detonate in your arms. The warnings that Kronos is beating into his head is nothing compared to the pain of knowing he won’t be with you for much longer. And he kisses you like he could save you from his blaze by doing so, lips and tongue and shattered breath saying I’m here, and this is real. Maybe your worst vice is not being able to wean yourself off the taste of him.
“Tell me what I need to hear. Even if it’s not true…Even if you’re not real,” you say between gasps, and your position on his lap makes him wonder why he’d ever give the world up and burn it down when it’s sitting right here and staring at him with violet eyes.
“It’s always going to be you and me. I’ll love you until the end of my days and then some.”
You laugh in the way that drives him crazy—though he already is, for loving you still. Luke lost all sense of himself when he left camp four years ago. All that remains is you, pushing him so that his back hits the bedspread. He lets you consume what’s left of him, and he’s on fire.
You wake up the next morning with a jolt. It’s still winter, and you’re still alone but despite the chill, you feel warm.
ii. autumn years (with a familiar visitor who finally shows up on time)
Knock, knock.
There’s someone at the door, but your date isn’t supposed to be here for another 10 minutes.
“Babe, someone’s here for you!” your roommate Jo calls out, and you tell her it’s fine to let them in.
The pantyhose clings to the lotion on your thighs and you fix the bracelet on your wrist, stepping out from the bathroom hollering, “You’re early, Kit! Don’t tell me you’re skipping to the good part; I’m a lady i–”
“Who’s Kit?”
Luke’s standing in the doorway of your bedroom and his eyes flit to the reflection of your naked back peeking through the undone zipper of your dress. You look stunning, lips painted red and eyes smoky, but you’re also furious. Too bad he’s always thought you looked extra hot when you’re mad.
“None of your business. As you can see, I don’t exactly have the time for this, Castellan.”
He shrugs, closing the door behind him gently and with the raise of his brow, Luke is leering at you like a teenage boy. Respectfully, of course. The glint of celestial bronze against his hip reminds you who he’s become though.
“I’ll make the time if you say the words, trouble.”
Sighing, you step forward, but then he does that thing again from the last time you saw him out on sea, twisting the crick in his neck like he has to resist your touch.
“You’re still funny. Some old habits die hard I guess,” you scoff, turning and lifting your hair out of the way so that he can zip you up. He opts to not touch you, sliding the dress closed until it fits against your body. You think you can feel his fingers ghost above your skin, and goosebumps rise where he leaves and his breath is warm on the back of your neck.
“Leave your weapons at the door. I run a tight ship, unlike you.”
Gliding away from him while his hands are still in the air, you turn and sit at the edge of your bed, crossing your legs as you nod at him. Luke picks up the pair of heels next to where he sets the sword against the wall, and like it’s nothing out of the sort, he gets on his knees. You offer a foot to him while he speaks, “I could tell by the taser on your bedside table. You’ve killed monsters before, why a taser?”
There’s freckles on his tanned cheeks and he smells like the sun. You wonder what he’s done to come see you tonight.
“I’ve found out that not all monsters are mythical. When…are you?”
His eyes dart away from yours, securing the buckles on your ankles, and his touch sears through the mesh of your pantyhose.
“A few months ahead.”
There’s an eyelash on his nose, and your finger reaches out to touch it, but he flinches away. Face pulling into a frown, you spit, “You never slow down enough to let me catch up with you, huh?”
You can hear the microwave whirring in the kitchen, your roommate none the wiser of the sound of two hearts breaking. The both of you suddenly realize this is the first time you two have been alone (and the same age) since he left camp. There’s a silent question of if it will ever happen again as he gets up from the floor.
“So you’re seeing other people. Must’ve been easy, h—”
You punch him in the face before he finishes speaking, and all he can do is laugh. You would never let him off so easily.
“Fuck you. What, you think you can just hop in here and act like everything’s okay? What do you want, Castellan? For me to grovel at your feet and beg for you to fix what you broke?”
And you’re right, he supposes. This is the closest to peace that you’ll get in this life you’ve created without him. He won’t be able to take you on nice dinner dates like Kit can, or hold your hand without feeling like fate is going to smite him for existing. You scoff at the lack of his response.
“What happens next?”
Luke watches you chew on your lip, and even if he shouldn’t touch you in fear that you’ll will away his reason for defecting, by the gods does he want to.
“What do you mean?” he mutters. The cord of his necklace is tucked into your dress now that he looks closer.
“If I’m right,” you say (and it’s rare that you’re not), “each version of you that comes to see me knows less, and each time I see you I learn more. You were 23 last time. Why didn’t you see me at 22?” You know he won’t have an answer, but this is the only time you’ll be able to ask the real him. The one that’s yours, just a few steps ahead.
“There’s already been a lot that’s happened since I last saw you.”
“Are you going to hurt me?” you offer him, like he hasn’t already. He can feel the bruise blooming on his cheekbone and he grimaces with what he’s about to say.
“Never intentionally. I’ll try not to.”
It sounds stupid coming out of his mouth and you feel stupid with how empty you feel just watching him. He’s made a home of you, choosing moments in time to visit, but when he inevitably leaves, then what? Luke taught you how to be a home, forgetting you exist until it’s convenient and now there are things about yourself that you can’t unlearn yet don’t know what to do with.
Your roommate knocks on your door asking if you want a shot of vodka before your date starts, and Luke is already walking towards it since he’s overstayed his welcome. He raises his sword to open a portal but you shake your head.
“Go out the way you came,” you swallow, fiddling with the copper pendant around your neck, “and take the purple umbrella in the hall. It’s raining outside.”
When you walk into the kitchen moments later, the front door shuts gently and Jo’s sitting at the table with a mouthful of ramen noodles.
“Is he warming up the car? Your date’s hot as fuck, babe,” she grins, steam coating her glasses.
Knock, knock.
Your phone buzzes and there’s another knock at the door. Kit is 15 minutes late.
iii. auld lang syne (ringing in the new year with an old friend, or more)
Your apartment is filled with friends and acquaintances, but who the fuck cares anyway? There’s 10 minutes to midnight and you’re crossed out of your mind. Holding onto a half-empty bottle of prosecco, your heels clomp over to the window in the living room as you crawl onto the fire escape.
Clack, clack.
The air is chilly as you hug yourself, and you hear someone step out onto the stairs behind you.
“What are you doing out here alone?”
You sigh, not even turning to look at him, “What are you doing here, period?”
He takes the bottle of prosecco out of your hands, making you swivel your head to look at him as he takes a big gulp. He’s younger again, and it makes you laugh at how fucked up your luck must be to never be able to see him when you want. It’s always been on Luke’s terms.
“You’re too young to be drinking that,” you drawl, knees bumping against his when he takes a seat next to you. Long Island is quiet at night, and the lack of city lights is nice when you can see the stars so clearly. Music blares through your JBL speaker in the living room, and the sound of cheers gets louder when The Neighborhood starts playing.
“We used to do worse,” he laughs, but something in it sounds hollow. The breeze picks up and you shiver, taking the bottle back from him and swigging it.
“All these visits…you sure do know how to make a girl feel special. But you never come in the summer.”
He clears his throat, before leaning back on his elbows, “ I haven’t gone a summer without you since we were 14.” This Luke doesn’t know what’s ahead of him yet, but you realize that he’s right. Even now, he keeps up the habit of pissing you off and raising hell on Camp Half-Blood every summer. You notice he’s not wearing his camp beads, and he notices you shiver again in the chill.
Clack, clack.
Your heels rattle the metal of the fire escape as you readjust your position. He takes off his jacket to sling it around your shoulders and neither of you realize you’ve missed the countdown until fireworks burst in the sky above you. The red and blue reflect off the planes of his face, but what stands out to you is the orange of his shirt, and you comprehend now where he just came from.
“I had to see you. I didn’t get to say goodbye when I left,” he says, and you take another sip before handing him the bottle to finish off. The only new years’ kiss you’re getting is through the lips that hold the last remaining drops of prosecco.
You nod, remembering it all too well as you both watch the fireworks in silence. He wasn’t able to watch them properly the last time he was with you, Annie, and Percy just a few hours prior.
iv. spring cleaning (only big days are ahead for the both of you)
It’s quiet in your college apartment this morning.
The moving boxes are half-packed and stacked against the wall of the entryway and the smell of freshly brewed coffee in the French press on your kitchen counter permeates the air. Perhaps the idea of caffeine is the last thing on your mind, hands twitching as they smooth over the black polyester of your graduation regalia. There’s a few hours still before the ceremony, but you’ve never liked being unprepared. Pollux is driving your dad down the Island because despite the war you’ll inevitably be fighting in once you cross the stage and get your degree, D specifically told Zeus that he’d wage another if he was made to miss your big day.
Parting your hair to fit under the ugly graduation cap, the tassel swings in front of your face as you grab a few bobby pins from the side table. A golden medallion of Castor’s smiling face almost whips into your cornea and you stifle a laugh. D said in his Iris message last night that all three of them would cheer so loud you’d be able to hear it from Elysium (and honestly, jokes aside—he probably has a way of making that happen). A staggered breath leaves your lungs, and you’re filled with anticipation, though you’re not sure what for.
Time is a thief and you know that too well by now. After all, you’ve spent the past four years running from the truth of your heritage—dodging monsters between study sessions and grief welcoming you every time you come home. Four years later, and who are you trying to fool? While walking across that stage later you might as well take a bow. After all, your ex-boyfriend is the reason why there’s going to be a war of both blood and ichor, mortal and undying and still, you find yourself in the middle of it. You’ve found yourself fielding questions this last semester like dodging celestial bronze, the questions always a little too close to home and the answers you give are too entertaining to be considered the truth.
So, what are your future plans?
Oh no big deal, just going home and dealing with generations-old family drama. If it drives me crazy enough I might enlist!
Gods.
How do you even articulate that these past few years were those future plans? That you didn’t expect to be alive this long, much less have the comfort of feeling secure enough to dream… It’s been years since you’ve had a good dream to work towards with a boy you once knew holding your hand through it all. But the expensive piece of paper you’ll be receiving later feels fake somehow.
Who does that belong to? Surely not you…surely, someone who dreams without bearing the weight that comes with it. Someone who doesn’t have to look over their shoulder everytime they walk to work in the mornings, who can convince children that monsters aren’t real without having to lie. Psychology was a great field to learn from the mortal side of things—to know the reasons why brain chemistry affects us so deeply instead of just willing it away with the touch of your fingers. You like making people feel better. But who can ever do that for you?
A gust of wind sweeps through your room, the multicolored tassels hanging off your neck swaying from the force and you shut your eyes knowing he’s there again. Citrus and musk, and something that’s just him. He knocks over your hamper, cussing under his breath until his eyes follow your motionless figure in front of the mirror.
“Shit. I can explain, um… I thought you’d still be asleep,” Luke sputters, his converse falling into your laundry pile like quicksand. He bends over, stuffing your pajamas and sweatshirts back into the bin with fidgety hands as his eyes take a quick scan of your room. There are no pictures of you and him on the bedside table. For a moment, he wonders what that means but then his cheeks redden when he picks up a pair of your lacy underwear. He shoves that down too.
“Big day today. You know I can’t sleep when I know something is about to happen,” you smile wistfully, and you keep your eyes shut for longer, because like this, it’s almost like he’s actually there in real time. In a world where things went your way, this would be his apartment too, and his clothes would be scattered around your shared bedroom like how they used to back in cabin 12. You always used to put them on The Chair, as he would call it—but Luke’s known to make a mess of your life regardless of your efforts.
“When isn’t there? Something’s always going on when you’re around, trouble.”
Click. Scattered memories flicker in your head like images through a view-finder, spinning through your vision as you hear the sound of his laughter, gently tapping away at your heart again. Click. In the ones you pre-selected, he’s draped in sunlight, honey eyes sweet and kind, and his kisses are perpetual instead of an indulgence. Click. He’s always wearing faded orange, worn-out, but most of all well-loved. Click.
You open your eyes and they meet his own in the mirror. Time stops for once, letting you catch your breath.
Right now, he looks just as you like to remember him, as you knew him four years ago. Multicolored camp beads are resting easily against his broad neck instead of weighing him down, and he’s wearing the red converse his dad gave him. He’s too young, and so in love with you that it blinds him, but even then…now, he knows the look on your face and it makes him ask, “It’s not my first time visiting you is it?”
“You’re usually more discreet, the door right behind me wouldn’t have been your first option. But you’ve never failed to surprise me before. Tell me about your day, Luke.”
A hesitant smile crosses his face as he sheathes Backbiter against his hip, adjusting under the weight like he’s not used to it yet, and then he speaks, “We ate strawberries in the fields today, straight off the vine, but I argued that the ones you conjure will always taste sweeter to me. You smushed one against my face and I carried you home. You?”
You nod, turning around to face a ghost of your past, and the both of you meet in the middle only a hairs distance away as you admire each other.
“I graduate today. Annabeth’s driving up with her boyfriend and the rest of my family is coming to celebrate.”
He doesn’t know of Percy yet, of Chris’ insanity, of your brother’s death, and the immense hurt he’s caused everyone. The smile that lights up his face makes you realize he thinks he's still a part of this—you. And you miss him—even when he’s right here, fuck, you miss all the versions of him that have come to visit, even the ones you don’t know of yet. Tears brim your waterline as you take a deep breath; the last thing you want to do is scare him away.
“This was his promise to me. By showing me something I was sure of—and I always knew you’d graduate and make it big. Wanted to see it for myself, baby,” he grins, tangling his fingers with yours like your strings of fate, and though you know the answer to your next question you still take a chance, just in case.
“If I tell you what’s happened since…you. Would it be too late to change your mind?”
“Trouble, do you want me to? Kronos’ plan is already set in motion. I think…” he swallows, and your vision blurs without your permission as tears start to fall. Through the film over your violet eyes, Luke frowns and pulls your fingertips to his lips, kissing each one. He hasn’t done that in years.
“Did I make a mistake? Do I lose you, in the end?”
“Angelface…” you sniff, leaning your cheek against his hand, “You were so scared of losing me that you didn't even stop to think of what losing you would do to me. I lost you so long ago, Luke. And you’re not mine anymore. I don't think you have been in a long time.” In these heels, your forehead is closer to his lips so he kisses that too, hoping that somehow this time he can will away your pain instead of his. He doesn’t know what to do but hold you until you say something again.
“I’ll tell you something you need to hear. And no matter what you say or think, babe—it’s the truth. Even without all the glory in the world I would still be yours. I still am, even if I can’t bear it.”
Though he’s holding you, it somehow feels like the opposite—a purer version of him in your embrace while he holds the broken pieces of you together with his golden touch. Right now, you look into honey instead of gold. The both of you look at each other in the mirror melded together like kintsugi, something good still shining through the cracks of you two together like this.
The sound of keys jangling in the lock of the front door lifts you from his embrace, and with one look you both know its time for him to go; Luke’s brows furrow as he mutters, “I’m sorry. I’ll fix this, and we’ll be together. I promise.” You nod anyway, hoping at least one of you believe it.
“Go home, Luke. She…I still need you. I’m always gonna.”
He’s already got Backbiter in hand and one foot through time when he looks back at you. Your voice sounds a lot like how it does when you tell him you love him. Luke wonders how long it’s been since you did. Your bedroom door opens with a bang and some laughter.
“Hey troublemaker, you left the dryer on! All your clothes are gonna shrink,” Jo grins, peeking her head through the doorway of your room and she’s looking at you in your graduation gown standing there alone.
“Were you on the phone? Who were you talking to?”
It’s quiet in the apartment again. Your fingernails make indents in your palms, bunching up into fists before you let go. A sad smile crosses your face as you let the settling wind kiss your cheeks, before reality kicks in and everything settles back to how it was before.
“Just someone I used to know.”
—
“And no one can ever figure out what you want, and you won’t tell them, and you realize the one person in the world who loves you isn’t the one you thought it would be, and you don’t trust him to love you in a way you would enjoy.” -Richard Siken
luke taglist (some won't let me tag, turn on my post notifs?)
1/2 luke taglist: @kissingyourgrl @dorcas4meadowes @lorarri @andrewgarfldsgf @noodlesketchbook @10ava01 @poppysrin @ashisabitgay @timhalamet @liv1104 @leeknows-wife @mxtokko@bugcuti3 @luvvfromme @midmourn @2hiigh2cry @yuminako @niktwazny303 @lukecastellandefender @intergalactic-padawan @iliketopgun @annybah @dangelnleif @thegrinningghost @alyssajunelle @obxstiles @m00ng4z3r@visndcaitswhore @b0ok-lover @elegant-face-tree @this-barbie-is-having-breakdowns @amortencjja @idonevenknow1359 @maliaaaa @targaryenluvs @sakyira @dhdjdjjdhsjdiri
I think way too about Peeta calling Katniss baby in his husky southern accent.
like a vivid dream comic based on that argenti 2.3 line where he says he saw his friend in his Ena's dream frederic / knight friend look hc
"I'll never lose as long as I'm with you"
(Bonus)
“Death is not the opposite of life, but a part of it” - Haruki Murakami
"Walking side by side with a person like you"
"Without you I'd be lonely, Fushiguro"
And what if I kill myself
No exceptions
(Suguru isn’t usually late. Why isn’t he picking up his phone?)
I’ll cry if I think about them for too long but you’re Charles Rowland you’re a biracial punk and you’ve been getting the shit kicked out of you by your father your entire life but you see a Pakistani kid getting beat for being Pakistani and you can’t help it, you’re afraid but you stop it. You’re half Indian why are you any different? The racist little white boys agree. They beat you too. You make it away. You’re cold, so cold and something’s very wrong with you, and then you see a light. But you’re not dead. It’s another boy your age and he tells you he’s dead. He died in this same shitty boarding school and he reads you a bedtime story as you fall asleep. You’re dead now and he’s still here. He knew you were dying and he didn’t want you to be scared. He crawled out of Hell and the first thing he did was comfort you as you lay dying.
Why wouldn’t you run from death with him? Why wouldn’t you spend your eternity with him? Why wouldn’t you love him?
his hand quickly falls to his side, adrenaline blocking the pain inflicted onto scorching flesh. he shakes his wrist out, knows he deserves that, & much, much more. " guts, or such hatred for you? funny that she only thought to share this information to hurt you. " he scowls, voice turning rigid at the mention of nesta. it's not something he'll let go of any time soon. how she so carelessly walks over feyre, after everything she's done for her, she's still keen on causing her pain. no matter the cost. still, he shakes his head to end the conversation of her sister, feyre's words bringing him back: now is not the time.
it's a state he's never seen her in before — & to be the cause of it turns his guts into knots, his gaze lowering to her swelling stomach. their family, falling apart at the seams before it even had a chance to begin. this, the exact reason he avoided telling her, shouldering the pain for both of them as long as he could. " i should have told you. i'm the only fool here. " he's quieter now, losing any of the rage intended for nesta, features soft as he nods, defeated. " i thought ... " his voice breaks, desperate to give her any answer to assure their safety. that this wasn't all for nothing. only, he still has just that: nothing. all of the healers he sought out, the books he's read over until his vision blurred, all gave the same answer. " i thought i would've figured out a way by now. " a hand raises to push back his hair, jaw clenching as to avoid completely breaking. " i'm sorry, feyre. i didn't want to worry you for nothing — i thought i could fix this. " but this was not his to shoulder on his own, & there seems to be no way out of this mess. he cements firmer, voice clearing as his gaze meets hers. " i should have told you. "
“ don’t touch me. ” i snapped, catching his wrist, and casting it away — with little remorse for the way i scorched his flesh, embers sparking from my grasp. my eyes bore into him, as hard and cold as the ice on my breath, as i unleashed my wrath. “ don’t make this about nesta, ” i growled, turning my fury onto him. “ are you mad that she was the only one with the guts to look me in the eye and tell me the truth? ” i laughed once, dark and bitterly — utterly devoid of any humor. my sister’s less than pure intentions were obvious, but didn’t detract from the truth. the truth that had been kept from me for weeks. weeks i could’ve spent preparing. i felt so stupid for not asking more questions and avoiding the signs. for not pressing rhys further on what was bothering him when it was clear something was. we’d always given each other the space to open up in our own time — never could i have suspected this.
“ if you had told me from the start, this wouldn’t have happened. ” i didn’t allow myself to dwell on the subtle implications in his words — he still needed more time to find a way to get us out of this. us both out — because of the last, blasted bargain we had made, never in a million years expecting it to end like this. i glanced down towards my protruding belly, my hands cooling before they rested atop it protectively. the desperation in his voice was damning, he hadn’t found any answers and time was running out — the fear i felt encroaching was not for me, but my mate and our family. i did my best to block it out, instead focusing on my fervid indignation to his betrayal. “ who else did you tell before me? ” i didn’t need a response to know the answer; if word had reached nesta, who had been restricted to the house of wind, then surely the others already knew. it was the humiliation that made my own darkness whirl. how weak and witless they must’ve thought of me, incapable of facing the truth as if i hadn’t stared death down before. only then did my voice start to break, “ you’ve made me a fool. ”
Found myself thinking about Eddie being insecure because he doesn't see himself as Steve's type, and sees the people who flirt with him and well...
Just picture it with me.
Eddie and Steve have been together for a bit. Maybe like, a few months, but they were technically together before, inseparable in the most annoying gooey way. And things are GOOD. Eddie's never been happier.
The way Steve's been so patient with him. Eddie has no idea how relationships work, let alone the sex stuff. He's totally inexperienced. He's maybe kissed a few people before Steve. But not much else.
And Steve is.. so sweet to him. Always asking if he's okay, if this or that touch is alright. Eddie had literally cum in his fucking pants one night, so fast, embarrassingly fast. But Steve had climbed into his lap and he just... couldn't handle it.
He'd been so fucking embarrassed, but Steve had just held him. Not letting him run to the bathroom like he'd wanted too. He had let Eddie hide his face in his neck though, pressed kisses into Eddie's hair until he calmed down.
And THEN he'd let him get up and clean himself off. But only after he made sure Eddie knew he didn't have to be embarrassed.
Steve didn't tell him then, but it made him feel a little crazy. And he definitely hadn't made a plan to make Eddie do it again, needing to hear that sweet little sound that lodged itself in Eddie's throat as his hands grabbed at Steve. He felt like he could fucking fly for the rest of the night.
But it had been a rough couple weeks for Eddie. He'd walked into family video twice this week to see beautiful girls trailing after Steve, big moony, hopeful eyes, as Steve pointed out a few movie options, looking bored.
And Eddie knew he wasn't interested in these girls, or the odd guy who would come in, maybe flirt a little. Steve never returned any of the advances, just gave them his tight cutomer service smile. A smile Eddie and Robin constantly made fun of him for.
But he'd been talking to Robin about some french movie, he'd actually done pretty well in french, so he let Robin force him to sit through movies that he could vaguely understand.
But he'd glanced at Steve, just the briefest look, and had seen a pretty brunette touching his arm and laughing. And Steve had chuckled, a little, and that's fine. Eddie doesn't care if he has friends, it's not... that's not it. Not the issue.
Because Eddie loves Steve's laugh, it's not even about Steve, because Eddie's focus is never on Steve in the these moments. It's always on the beautiful people talking to Steve. Flirting with Steve.
Eddie's eyes linger on the girl's hair, it looks a bit like his, more curls, falling beautifully down her back. Her eyes are pretty, the slope of her nose is nice, and she's got a good laugh too, bubbly, pretty. Eddie swallows hard, notices Steve's eyes on him over the girls shoulder. Steve waves, smiles, leaves the girl behind as he walks toward Eddie.
His palms are sweating as Steve walks over, smiling. He steps behind the counter next to Robin, leans his elbows on it, toward Eddie, into his space. Eddie sighs, can't help but smile.
"Hey Eds, we still on for movie night?" He asks, tapping his fingers against the movie Eddie had brought to the counter, not paying attention to what it was. They never ended up watching the movie anyway. Eddie nods.
"Yeah of course. I was just, grabbing it." His head feels fuzzy, lost in thought. Steve frowns.
"You okay?" He asks. Eddie shakes his head, pins on the best smile he can manage.
"Yeah. All good. We're doin pizza again too right?" He asks, sliding the movie off the counter and walking backwards to the door. Steve smiles again, believing Eddie's fragile cover.
"Watch out for the-" Robin calls, her hand raised.
"Oof-" Eddie huffs as his back slams into the-
"Door." Robin and Steve say together. Eddie grimaces a small smile and waves, ducking out the door. Robin and Steve laughing as they get back to work.
~°~
They're on the couch, movie forgotten, like always. Steve is sitting in Eddie's lap, hands in his hair, fingers moving against his scalp soothingly as he kisses down Eddie's neck. And Eddie's trying to be into it, wants to be, he is. On one level.
But his thoughts have been racing all day, images of all those beautiful people flirting with Steve. Who is the most fucking beautiful person Eddie's ever goddamn met. And he's sitting in his fucking lap, offering himself to Eddie like he always fucking does. And Eddie is just, is so... distracted.
His hands are resting on Steve's thighs, his headed tilted, giving Steve access to his neck, but he just, he can't focus. Steve's mouth stops, presses a small kiss to his collar bone, and then he's leaning back, resting his butt on Eddie's knees as he looks down at him.
"You okay Ed's?" Steve asks, his voice soft, his touch even softer as his thumbs rest on Eddie's neck. Eddie blinks up at him, licks his lips, opens his mouth, closes it, and nods, his fingers squeezing Steve's thigh as he leans up, tries to kiss Steve, change the subject.
Steve's hand on his chest presses him back down, into the couch, Eddie makes a little noise, Steve smiles, but his eyes are concerned.
"Hey. What's goin on in that head? You've been so quiet. Like... all day." Steve says, his hands back on Eddie's neck, his eyes soft as he waits for Eddie to answer.
"Isn't that a good thing?" Eddie asks, cringes when his voice sounds... bitter? Steve's eyes widen.
"Whoa. What?" He asks, scooting forward a little, setting on Eddie's thighs instead of perching on his knees, getting more comfortable. Eddie shakes his head, bites his lip. Huffs at himself, because he feels like he's about to fucking cry.
"Hey. Talk to me. What's happening?" Steve asks, his hands moving up, thumbs moving over Eddie's cheeks, keeping him facing Steve.
"Nothin. Everything's fine. I'm just- nothing." He tries to smile, knows it doesn't reach his eyes, and Steve droops, bringing him ever closer.
"Eddie. Your hands haven't moved since I got on top of you. You haven't touched my ass once. Not even when I did that tongue thing you like." Steve says, cautious. Eddie rolls his eyes.
"I don't like it that much." He shakes his head, keeping his eyes OFF Steve, though he's still cradling his face.
"You whimper every time I do it. And you grabbed my ass hard enough to leave bruises. So I've got proof." Steve teases, rubbing his nose along Eddie's. Eddie heart thumps, he did really like it. Fuckin Steve. He huffs, rolls his eyes again and then moves them back to Steve.
"Just tell me what's wrong." He kisses his forhead, rests his head there after.
"Please." He whispers, his hands moving back into Eddie's hair, scratching at his scalp the way he knows Eddie likes, it relaxes him. He sighs, melts into Steve's touch and clears his throat. Because he doesn't wanna say it. It's stupid. He feels stupid.
"It's stupid." He shakes his head. Steve's brow furrows.
"I'm sure it's not." He says. Eddie swallows hard again, the lump in his throat starting to burn.
"Why me?" And he sounds, small, even to himself, can't imagine how he sounds to Steve, so he closes his eyes, lets his head fall back against the couch. Steve is quiet, for a moment.
"What do you mean why you?" He asks, Eddie opens his eyes to see Steve's confused face, his eyes off to the side, looking at the couch, thinking. Eddie sniffles, wipes at his face and tries again, Steve's eyes jump to him, concerned.
"I just- I guess I just- I mean you could have anybody." His voice cracks, he takes his hands off Steve's thighs, rests them on his own stomach instead.
"I just don't understand." Eddie shakes his head. Steve moves his hands, settles them over Eddie's.
"I uh... I guess." Steve says, slowly, uncertain.
"Eddie look at me."
Eddie doesn't. Steve laughs, snorts really, and grabs Eddie's cheeks, gentle with his scars. He moves Eddie's face until Eddie can't not look at him.
"Hi." Steve says, small smile starting to bloom.
"Hi." Eddie huffs, crosses his arms, they bump Steve, jostle him a bit.
"Eddie I don't want anyone else. I want you. You know that right?" Steve asks, his face so close, his eyes so fucking earnest. Eddie nods. Because he does, he does know that. He tries to look away, just moves his eyes as Steve holds his head still.
"I know. I know that. I just-" he takes a shakey breath, fights the sob that's threating to bubble out of his throat.
"I don't know why." Eddie says, and it's a whine when it leaves him, his throat is too tight for it to be anything else.
"All these beautiful people flirt with you, like... all the time. And I know you don't care about that. I know that! But I see them, and the way they look at you, and I just... I don't understand why you picked me. Over that. Over them? I- I'm not..." Steve wipes the tears away from his cheeks but stays silent, lets him keep talking.
"They're all so beautiful. And you're so beautiful. And you just- it's like you don't even see them? And then fucking come here to be with me and I just don't understand why!?" Eddie's voice is loud now, his hands flailing at his sides as Steve keeps his hands on Eddie, they're on his shoulders now. His thumbs soothing against Eddie's collarbones. Eddie's breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling, his face his wet, and Steve is fucking looking down at him like he fucking hung the stars.
"Why are you looking at me like that." Eddie's voice squeaks. Steve's smile just gets bigger and bigger.
"What?" Eddie's hands grab at his waist, tickling him enough that Steve's concentration breaks, and he laughs, once, before he grabs at Eddie's shirt and brings them face to face again, so close. His nose moving against Eddie's again before he pulls back a bit.
"I um... I love you." He says, biting his lip, his cheeks going red as he looks down at Eddie. And Eddie's heart thuds in his ears. There's... he wasn't expecting that. Steve's never said that to him before. He's said, lots of things, lots of very nice and sweet and filthy, other things. But never that.
"I- you?" Eddie's brow furrows.
"Yeah." Steve nods, more confident now.
"I love you. And yeah, people flirt with me sometimes, and yeah they're pretty. But they're not you. You're fucking breathtaking to me. And I just... want you. Because I love you." Steve shrugs, like it's the fucking simplest thing in the world.
"You love me?" Eddie asks, his brain feels like it's trying to walk through fucking quicksand. Steve snorts.
"Yes. Idiot." He breathes, lowers himself into Eddie's space, kisses him, sweetly. Pulls back, smiles as Eddie's hands scramble against the back of his sweater.
"That's more like it." Steve breathes, tries to kiss Eddie again, frowns when Eddie moves his hands to his chest and holds him back. Eddie feels like he's gonna cry again, he looks up at Steve, blinks.
"I-"
"You don't have to say it." Steve cuts him off.
"But I want to. I- I do." Eddie sniffles, Steve wipes at his face again, rests his head against Eddie's.
"Well go on then." He teases, holding Eddie's neck, he scoots closer, presses himself harder into Eddie's lap. Eddie sucks in a breath, his fingers clawing at Steve's thighs now.
"C'mon Ed's, tell me." He whispers, one hand moving down Eddie's side, his fingers dipping under Eddie's shirt, he moans at the contact.
"Fuck I love you. So much." Eddie breathes, his hands moving to Steve's ass, fingers digging in, pulling him closer. Steve hums happily, rolls his hips.
"There he is." Steve breathes into Eddie's neck, his lips dragging over Eddie's skin, making him shiver.
"I do though. I love you." Eddie's voice is steady now, certain. Steve leans back again, smiling softly at him.
"I know." He says, eyebrows jumping on his forhead. Eddie gasps, dramatic.
"Oh you fucker." Eddie whispers, fists his hand in Steve's shirt and drags him foward, their noses bumping roughly.
"You love it." Steve whispers against his lips before licking into his mouth, smiling against Eddie's lips as he moans in affirmation.
Eddie's heart pounds in his chest as Steve's hands move up under his shirt, holding him closer, his entire body flushing as Steve touches him, rolls his hips into him with purpose, making Eddie whimper as he holds on, his fingers digging into Steve the way he knows Steve likes, all thoughts of anyone else gone from his mind.
Steve kisses down his neck again, smirks into Eddie's skin as he rolls his hips one more time, pushing Eddie over the egde again, for the second time, smiling into Eddie's shirt as that perfect little noise hits his ears. Eddie clinging to him as Steve shows him he has no fucking need to worry about anyone else. Eddie is it for him.
Always.
Probably forever.
As long as Eddie will have him.
max, impressive to see you come up and go past.
- sebastian vettel, nov. 2022