#and she is just as much as a disaster as the rest of them
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It Was Horrible Until It Wasn't (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)
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Author Masterlist
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Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader.
Summary: Reader comes up to her apartment after Spencer walks her home from the diner, where they spend the last couple of hours. She is still processing the night and wonders if they will meet again. Another fortuitous event makes that happen. In which terms they will part ways again?
Word Count: 5.1k
Warnings: Mention of guns (tests to carry a gun). Mention to Reader's ex. Some strong words? IDK what else. If I forgot something, let me know.
A/N: I got very excited after your reactions and comments to "If Anything, I Find it Educative." So this is kind of part two, from Reader's perspective. I'm not convinced about a series yet, even if I have some ideas. What would you like to see if it happens?
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Reader's POV
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As I open the door, a bunch of cardboard boxes scattered on the floor greets me. That reminds me that I haven't unpacked all my things yet.
I've only been living here for two weeks, and I'm still getting used to the idea that this is my new home.
It doesn't feel like it yet.
But the boxes will be a problem for tomorrow. Now, I only want to take off these high heels and this fancy dress and call it a night - a pretty eventful night.
Not only did I have to confront my ex with his new girlfriend, but I also had to pretend I was okay with it. But how did I expect to do that? Did I genuinely think two months would be enough to be outside again to prove I got myself up?
How naive of me.
I make a beeline to my bedroom, not even bothering to look at the rest of the apartment.
Again, it's tomorrow's problem.
Retreating my phone from my purse, I plug it to charge over my bedside table as I strip from my clothes and go to the bathroom to do my nightly routine.
The entire time, my mind doesn't stop wandering. At some point, it settles on the girl I helped from choking. It was a total coincidence for me to be there. I only approached the bar for another drink when I heard that man rambling. I don't know why my ear perked up, but it did. When I look to find the voice's source, my eyes land on the man and the girl by his side.
He was talking as if the world would end if he didn't, and the girl only eyed him from head to toe, clearly not giving a damn what he was saying. I kept subtly listening to them while sipping my drink. The guy's voice had something enchanting. I would have heard him talk for hours if it were from me. It was a bad thing his interlocutor wasn't so receptive, and when she occasionally said something, it was a flirting remark that only made him uncomfortable.
What a shame.
When I noticed her fighting to breathe, swatting her hands in desperation, and the poor guy froze on the spot, I knew I needed to do something.
I didn't think much of it and wrapped my arms around her torso to help her. It worked. The oyster she choked with flew into the air, and she could breathe again.
But the next thing I knew, her palm connected to the man's cheek.
The poor guy seemed so confused, and the people talking around didn't help either. What a shitty situation. And as the good citizen I am, I tried to do something about it, only to get lashed out by the same woman I just saved from choking.
Fuck it.
Seeing the people's attention returned to them, I walked away. That wasn't my fight in the first place.
Returning from the bathroom, I hear my phone ding. It's a text from my friend Andie.
Andie: How did the gala turn out? Did you see him? He was with her, right?
Andie had insisted on me not going to the gala, although I repeated to her several times that it was okay, that nothing would happen, and that I couldn't hide forever.
Me: You were right. I wasn't ready.
It's a defeat I must recognize. I wasn't prepared to see them.
Andie: My girl, I'm so sorry. It must have been awful for you.
It was, but it doesn't mean the night was a disaster.
Me: It was horrible until it wasn't. I can tell you more tomorrow. Now, I only want to go to bed.
Andie: You have me a bit confused here, but okay. I'll call you tomorrow. Sleep tight; I love you.
I return my phone to the charger and slip under the covers.
It was horrible until it wasn't.
I keep thinking about that. And a smile tugs the corner of my lips. Since Spencer - the guy who got slapped by the oyster-choked girl - approached me at the terrace, the night wasn't that awful anymore.
Who would have thought I would end my night in a diner, dressed to the nines and spouting details of my messy life to a stranger?
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Monday morning comes faster than I wanted.
I spent my Sunday mostly unpacking boxes and tidying my apartment, and now, with a coffee in hand, I cross the hall to my office on the third floor of the FBI building in Quantico.
Some colleagues greet me as I pass by. I return them with a polite smile. I saw a couple of them at the gala on Saturday. I only hope they didn't notice the wreck I was that night.
On my desk, a pile of hundreds of manila folders are waiting for me.
This Monday will be a blast.
Dutifully, I reach for the first folder to start my work, as my ear perks up to two colleagues' conversation about the gala.
"Did you see them? Those hot chicks from Counterterrorism?" a male colleague says to another.
"Yeah. I heard one of them was hitting on Reid from the BAU. What a waste!" The other adds.
"And the lucky bastard wasn't able to take her home. His nerdy charm didn't even help him with that."
The mention of the BAU brings Spencer to my mind again. And I realize I don't even know his last name.
I don't think I need to know, but I can't stop my fingers from typing 'Spencer FBI BAU' on my computer.
My findings make the conversation between my colleagues intriguing. They were precisely talking about Spencer, Spencer Reid, and the girl with him at the gala. Clearly, the incident did not go unnoticed.
I don't like the tone they refer to him, either. I do not know the guy well, but I'm sure he's way better than any of the men at the venue that night.
Are you hearing yourself (Y/N)? That kind of blind trust put you in this situation with your ex in the first place.
I shouldn't grant credibility so fast, but honestly? Spencer seems to be everything but a threat. The things he said, the way he spoke. Anyway, I should stop thinking about that if I want to finish some work. Yeah, that's what I need to do.
Drowning out the noise, I return to the opened folder and continue working.
Some would ask how a task as monotonous as the one I'm doing now could be appealing to someone. The appeal for me comes from how everything fits in the right places and serves a purpose. That's enough for me, even if some people don't understand it.
My ex didn't. And as him, many others.
I'm still fighting to ease the effects their judgments had on me.
Around lunchtime, stopping the papers review, I pick up my phone to check my messages. Yesterday, I promised Andie I would have lunch with her today, so I'm checking for her confirmation and a place to meet.
Just in time, a text comes. She is free right now and suggests a restaurant just outside the building.
"Hey, girl! I'm glad you made it," she greets me as I spot her on one of the tables.
"Of course. I promised I would."
Lunchtime is only one hour, so we order quickly and go straight to the matter.
"I can't believe the son of the bitch decided to go and show off his new conquest," Andie huffs.
"Not that new, considering she has been sleeping with him in what used to be my bed at least a month before I discovered it," I correct with an annoyed look.
It's good to say these things without crying my eyes out anymore.
I tell Andie more details about how it went to share a space packed with mutuals around us and try to stay composed.
"But at some point, I just couldn't. So I retracted to the bar. I only wanted to grab a drink and be alone."
Andie nods in understanding.
"I don't blame you. So you were at the bar when you crossed to the girl to whom you did Heimlich?"
Yesterday, by phone, I told Andie the main facts regarding that, and after laughing for a solid five minutes about the whole ordeal, she made me promise to reveal more details in our lunch meeting.
That's why I'm describing what happened piece by piece.
"She slapped the guy? And she yelled at you? What a bitch! But I don't understand why he apologized on her behalf."
"Honestly? I didn't understand it, but it made sense after talking with him. The guy felt responsible, even if it wasn't related to him. It was the fact that someone had to do the right thing," I explain, with my eyes fixed on my water glass, recalling Spencer's words from that night.
I can't help but feel some fondness for his genuine worry. Andie raises an eyebrow and hums.
"The guy made a good impression on you, I see."
Andie's tone is teasing, and I know exactly where she is heading.
"Come on, don't start with that," I warn her. I'm not thoroughly annoyed, but I'm not in the mood for teasing. Andie scoffs.
"I'm just saying it's good to know there are men out there that give hopes up. That's all!"
"Sure," I mumble, not very convinced by her explanation.
The rest of our lunch follows a similar tone. When I finish telling Andie about Spencer walking me home, I know she is biting her tongue to say something to taunt me, but she holds back and opts for a question.
"Do you think you'll see him again?"
I ponder my answer. I don't know, although I remember Spencer asking, 'See you around?'
That doesn't mean we agreed to see each other again, even if I said, 'Sure, why not?'
Did Spencer mean that? Did he want to see me again?
"I don't know. Maybe. We both work in this building, so there are chances, I guess," I shrug. Andie narrows her eyes.
"But do you want to?"
That's a question I don't know how to answer, so I take some seconds to think about it.
"Let's say I'm not opposed to the idea."
A reply that could be an understatement. But not I'm telling Andie that.
She doesn't press on the matter, though. And I'm grateful she doesn't.
Now it's time to go back to work. We walk out of the restaurant to our building and separate ways at the elevator. Andie continues to the eighth floor when I hop off on the third.
Returning to my desk, I continue checking the folders piled on my desk, and my mind only focuses on that, knowing if I don't, there is no chance of getting this stack finished.
----
A good thing about the week progressing is nobody talking anymore about the damn gala. It's been a nightmare since Monday when everyone had to mention something about it. That included comments about me facing my ex there.
Of course, it was public knowledge I was dating an agent of the Criminal Investigative Division. Also, it became public knowledge he cheated on me with his current girlfriend from Counterterrorism.
But finally, it is Thursday, and everything seems to have returned to normal, so much so that the amount of work has increased exponentially. That's why I'm still at the office at seven pm.
I only assume it's time to go home when my boss pokes out of his office and calls for Andrew, one of our coworkers who distributes files and memos to the other departments.
I turn around, and it's only me at this hour. My boss notices the vacant office and is now talking to me.
"I guess I have to ask you to do this. Can you go to the sixth and drop this to Aaron Hotchner's office? I would have waited until tomorrow for Andrew, but this must be at his desk today."
I don't think I have a choice, so I pick the folder, promising to drop it before going home.
With my coat and purse, I grab the folder and stroll to the elevator.
I have been working here for four years and know every financial detail of each Quantico department, but I still need to recognize all department locations in this facility. So, floors are just floors, except the eight where Andie works.
Arriving at my destination, I walk into a bullpen, where I can see a lot of desks and offices. And just like my floor, it is almost empty. Anyway, I see one of the offices with lights on. My instinct tells me that's the place I'm looking for, and the plaque at the door confirms my suspicions: SSA Aaron Hotchner.
"Come in," a voice comes from the office when I knock.
Peeking inside, a stern-looking man is glancing in my direction. "Can I help you?" he asks with a slight frown.
"Yes, sir. I'm with the Finance Division, and my boss asked me to bring this to you," I explain as I reach out to hand him the folder. When he grabs it, realization washes over the man.
"Of course. Thank you very much-" Agent Hotchner trails off.
"(Y/L/N)," I supply, knowing he wants my last name.
"Thank you very much, Agent (Y/L/N)."
Weird.
Everyone in the finance and administrative department refers to each other only by last name. We use the 'agent' thing mainly with those who do the fieldwork, and we are used to that.
"You're welcome, Agent Hotchner," I smile politely, ready to leave the man's office. He nods approvingly.
"Hotch, sorry for interrupting you, but I'm ready with my report. I thought you wanted it-"
A man talks, entering abruptly at the office. He stops in his tracks when he sees Agent Hotchner isn't alone.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know you were with someone. I can come back later," he apologizes.
Wait. I know that voice.
I turn, and I see Spencer standing there. His eyes meet mine, and I feel my cheeks burn. He doesn't say anything but doesn't tear his eyes from mine.
I don't know how many seconds pass, but it's enough for Agent Hotchner to intervene.
"Reid?" he calls Spencer's attention.
"Uh?"
"The report. It's okay; you can give it to me," he tells Spencer, not without subtly bouncing his gaze between us.
"Oh. Okay." Spencer approaches Hotchner's desk, but he still directs glances at me. I want to say hi to him properly, but it doesn't feel okay knowing the man in front of us is undoubtedly his boss. I don't want him to feel uncomfortable. So, I take that as my cue to leave.
"If you excuse me," I tell Agent Hotchner, signaling my departure. Spencer looks at me, and I give him a subtle smile.
"Of course. Thank you again, Agent (Y/L/N)."
"To you, sir. Have a good evening."
I walk down the stairs to the open bullpen and toward the elevator.
Before I can push the go-down button, a voice calls my name. It's Spencer's.
"(Y/N), wait!"
I turn and see him trotting towards me.
"Hi!" he says once we are face to face.
Now I feel bad. Spencer comes here to say hi, and I didn't greet him properly just two minutes ago.
"Spencer, hi. I'm sorry, I should have said something there, but I didn't know if you wanted him to know- I mean, I supposed he was your boss, and I-"
What's wrong with me?
Why can't I explain myself without stumbling with my words?
"No. No. Don't apologize. It's okay. I should have told you something, too. But I didn't expect to see you here."
"Me neither. My boss sent me here instead of one of my coworkers, who left early. I didn't know this was the BAU floor. What a coincidence, uh?" I play cool, shifting my weight from one foot to another. Spencer nods in agreement.
"Totally. It's good to see you, though. I hoped we could cross paths again."
Isn't it weird that his words have produced a funny tingle in my stomach right now?
"Is that so?" I half-breath, noticing his cheeks turn a shade of pink.
"Yes. I mean, I truly enjoyed talking to you that night," he sheepishly admits.
I more than enjoyed it, Spencer.
"Yeah, me too."
Silence sets between us. And it's time to make a decision. I could say I go home and leave him with a lukewarm 'See you around,' or say I'm leaving, but before doing so, give Spencer my number so we can talk soon. Or...
"Are you busy right now? I'm heading home now, but if you can and want, we can go for a coffee."
Wow (Y/N). Very smooth. I like you smooth.
Spencer's eyes widened, and I wondered for a second if my offer was too straightforward.
"If you have plans, it's okay. We don't have to," I relent.
"Oh, no. I don't. And I would love to go for a coffee with you," Spencer hastens to say. I release a breath I didn't know I was holding.
"Yeah?"
"Sure! If you wait for me just a second, I'll pick my things from my desk, and we can go."
----
This time, it's my turn to pick the place.
It's a small coffee shop in the middle of Virginia, just mid-way between Quantico and my apartment.
As we get on the train, I ask Spencer about Agent Hotchner.
"Hotch? Well, he has been at the unit for twelve years now. Gideon, a former agent, told me once he didn't expect Hotch to last long in the BAU. But he proved him wrong. Indeed, Gideon left, and Hotch stayed. Honestly, I can't picture the BAU with another unit chief."
There is a fondness when Spencer talks about Hotchner. I can tell he sees him more than as a superior.
"What about yours?"
Now is my turn to talk about my boss.
"Agent Williams? He is a bureaucrat from head to toe. He had just transferred from another administrative department when I joined the financial division four years ago. At that time, he had ten years working with the FBI. The guy is a genius but lacks social skills. I'm not judging him; I'm a bit like him. But in his position, he needs to make politics, which involves talking and convincing people."
The conversation with Spencer flows so well and easily that I'm as impressed as I was the night of the gala.
When we reach the coffee shop, we sit facing each other. After ordering our coffee, we start talking about our coworkers.
"So Garcia is our technical analyst. I have to say she is like the team's heart. Besides her outstanding skills, her compassion and care are something out of this world," Spencer admits, and again, I feel the fondness in his voice.
"She seems very special," I add. Spencer nods.
"Very. I don't know what it's like to have a sister, but if I had one, I would have liked someone like her.
So he doesn't have a sister. Does he have brothers, though? We have yet to talk about our families, so this is the first piece of information I get about it.
"What about the guy who came to check what was happening with your girl at the gala?" I ask, and Spencer scoff.
"First of all, Ashley isn't my girl. I think she made it pretty clear that night. And secondly, the guy in question is Morgan, the culprit of why I was with Ashley in the first place."
That's interesting. I want to know more about that.
"How is that?" I ask, sipping my coffee.
Spencer tells me how Morgan insisted they talk to the girls - Ashley and her friends - and how he reluctantly followed him.
I'm about to make a not-so-kind remark when Spencer gets ahead of me.
"I know it may seem like he is a thoughtless person, but he truly means well. I can't entirely agree with his tactics most of the time, but he's right when he tells me I should enjoy more and work less."
"It's safe to say you weren't 'enjoying' that much there," I quip, air-quoting the word 'enjoying.' Spencer chuckles.
"Yeah. Honestly? I have more fun when Morgan kicks doors down in our field chases than when he tries to play wingman for me."
What? Kick doors down?
"Wait a minute. Are you telling me that the FBI had to spend thousands of dollars in repairs for third parties last year because of him?"
I know I'm being dramatic. It's impossible that just one agent destroyed that amount of dollars by kicking doors. But still.
Spencer's eyes widen.
"What? No! I mean, yes. He does that, but thousands of dollars? Last time I checked, doors are not that expensive."
I roll my eyes. That's not the point.
"Okay. I know it's not only Agent Morgan's doing, but did you know the buro's budget had increased by 4% last year due to refunds for field operations? And did you know 70% of that increase refers to agents shattering private property?"
Now, I sound like my boss. Great. I became what I swore to destroy.
Spencer looks at me with amusement. I narrow my eyes to him. "What?"
He clears his throat. "Oh. No, nothing. It's just - well, it's fascinating to hear you talking about - uh - numbers."
I can't help but snort. "Come on, how fascinating that can be?"
Spencer grins. "If anything, I find it educative," he parrots my words from that night, and we fall into a fit of laughs.
"Yeah?" I muse after the laughter subsides. Spencer nods, still a smile gracing his face.
Gosh, that smile.
"Well, I can talk about numbers all day. But I'm sure you don't want me to 'fascinate' you that much."
Spencer hums, faking be pondering his options.
"Don't tempt me. I like to know and talk about everything. But before returning to numbers, I want to ask about your coworkers. I already talked much about mine."
Even if there is not much to say, indulging him with an answer is only fair.
"What can I say? In my area, there are three: Anthony, Leah, and me. We were four then, but Andie was promoted to the eighth floor a year ago. Anthony is a good guy, a little inexperienced, but very eager to learn. We don't have a very close relationship, but he's my protegee at work. Leah is very clever and has enough experience, but sometimes she is not present, making things a little tense between us. Andie is rightfully my friend. We got to the bureau simultaneously, and although she doesn't work with us anymore, we are very close."
Spencer is looking at me with full attention. It's odd to talk about this kind of thing with someone. I don't like to talk about my bonds in general. It makes me feel vulnerable. But for a reason that I still don't get, with Spencer, it feels right.
It's night already, and we are in our third coffee.
"Do you usually drink this amount of coffee daily at this hour? I try to cut off my dosis after lunch, but sometimes I just can't," I point as I stir the spoon on my coffee. Spencer hums.
"I drink a lot of it at any time of the day, every day. It's worse when we are on cases because that shitty coffee at the precincts should not even be called coffee," he scoffs, pouring half of the sugar pot into his cup.
I have already noticed the amount of sugar Spencer has used in his two previous coffees; this third is not the exception.
"I'm sorry, but I have to ask," I say as my eyes dart to his sweet liquid. He follows my line of sight and chuckles.
"I love coffee, but I don't like its bitterness. I know it doesn't make sense, but for me it does."
"Fair enough."
After that, our conversation stumbles to lousy sleep habits.
"Ray hated it. Even once, he told me I purposely got up in the middle of the night to annoy him."
Spencer's brow furrows.
"Ray is your ex?"
Shit. I don't realize I'm talking about him.
Why do I have to mention him? I hate how ingrained he is still in my life.
"Yeah, Raymond. No wonder why things didn't work out between us," I try to joke because I don't want to cry about it anymore.
"An example of a man," Spencer follows my lead, and I'm grateful he doesn't look at me like people usually do when I talk about it. There is no pity. There is no that look saying, 'Oh, poor girl who got cheated on.' It's like a whole understanding. It doesn't make me feel like a failure. And that's a change—a good one.
I chuckle. "Hell, he is."
It's getting late, and it's time to part ways, even if I don't want it. Hours pass quickly with such good company.
"We should get going. It's late," I point as I glance at my phone. Spencer nods in acknowledgment, signaling the waitress to get the check. He is about to fish his wallet when I stop him.
"No. Don't do that. I invited you."
Spencer scoffs, opening his wallet nonetheless.
"No way. You invited me the other night. You can do it next time."
Next time, uh? I want to say something teasing, but the waitress returns with our check.
We are outside the coffee shop now. I adjust my coat as Spencer does the same with his suit jacket. The night is chilly, and the contrast with the warmth of the coffee shop is evident.
"Can I walk you home?" He offers. I have my doubts about that. It's not that I don't like the idea; I just don't want to use more of his time.
"You don't have to. Really," I shake my head.
"Please? You already said it. It's pretty late," he insists, looking at me with dog puppy eyes.
Why is he doing that? He is testing my resolve.
"You know I can take care of myself, right? I'm a certificated FBI agent. I can't carry a gun, but sure I could manage," I argue in a teasing tone. Spencer chuckles.
"I know you are. And I'm sure you could. Even though, why no to prolong our evening for fifteen minutes long?" I raise an eyebrow.
"So you really like my company, uh?"
I'm sure I see a blush creeping his cheeks, and it's endearing.
"I like your company. I thought I made it pretty clear the other night?" he probes. And I don't know how to respond to that.
The truth is quite curious. Teasing Spencer seems so natural sometimes, but now I don't know what to say.
I decide not to say anything and nod, motioning for us to start walking.
Spencer follows me, and we walk in silence for the first block. Then, I feel the need to continue our conversation. I want these fifteen minutes to be as good as the previous two hours.
"Did you know that I used to carry a gun? Although it took me three failed tests to do so."
Spencer looks at me, surprised. I take that as my cue to tell that story.
Once I tell him how I finally managed to pass my shooting test, he starts telling me how he also failed his test a couple of times.
"So you saved your boss life shooting an unsub?" Spencer nods.
"But I really aimed to his leg, not his head," he adds, and we burst into a fit of laughter.
Without realizing it, we are already in front of my building. The laughter subsides when we notice where we are.
I clear my throat. "Well. Uh-thank you. Again," I say, referring to him walking me home.
"No need," Spencer says. "I had a good time today," he adds, smiling.
I can't help but feel my cheeks burn. Spencer casts his eyes to the ground.
"Me too," I admit, biting my bottom lip. "I - uh."
Why am I so nervous right now? Just say what you want to say!
"I - uh. I'd really like to do this again. I mean, you know, maybe next time could be something planned?"
Spencer's eyes flick to mine. I would say he didn't expect me to say that.
"I would love that," he says, keeping eye contact. And for a moment, I think the breath leaves my lungs. Those eyes are something I didn't see in my life before. I can't describe it, but it's enough to make me speechless.
"I guess it's here when I ask for your number?" Spencer's voice is the one that brings me out of the trance.
I chuckle, mid-embarrassed by my absorption moment. I gesture for him to give me the phone. Spencer does it, and I advert his piercing gaze to focus on typing my number. Once done, I return the device with a playful smile. Jeez, I feel like a damn teenager.
A snort leaves Spencer's lips when he sees the name I used for my contact.
"Really?" He asks. I nod, chuckling.
"It's safe to say you won't forget who I am," I confirm.
"Bet I won't."
"Good. Now I'm going to come up," I gesture to the building. "Good night, Spencer."
"Good night, (Y/N)."
I turn to enter the building, and although I can't see him, I feel him standing there in the cold night until I disappear into the elevator.
Once I cross the threshold of my apartment, a ding comes from my phone. Frowning, I pick it up.
Unknown number: Are you free on Saturday at midday? We could go to lunch. Let me know. Good night. SR.
I bit my lower lip. And after typing a reply, I start my night routine before bed.
Oh, boy. What are you getting into (Y/N)?
Whatever it is, it feels so good.
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A/N 2: As always, I'm excited to know your thoughts about this one!
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Spencer Reid's Taglist: @dreatine @nomajdetective @jayyeahthatsme @rosalinasam2 @averyhotchner @lovelyxtom @princessmiaelicia @pastelbabygirl19 @reidsbookclub @alexxavicry @gspenc @spencerreidisbae123 @calmspencer @pauline5525mgg @anamiad00msday @milivanili99 @laylasbunbunny @leahblackk @miaxx03 @missabsey @taintedstranger @khxna @hiireadstuff @pleasantwitchgarden @dysphoricsanity @levi-of-starz @themoonchildwhofell @silver138 @lovelybaka @shinytinywhispers
#spencer reid#spencer reid fanfiction#criminal minds#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x y/n#aperrywilliams#amanda perry williams
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the girl next door 7
Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, manipulation, chronic illness, noncon/dubcon, coercion, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.
Summary: A new neighbour moves in and upends your already disarrayed life.
Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself.
This lewk but silverfox
Your body is stiff. You blame your late-night drawing session hunched over the folding table. You feel it in your neck and shoulder. You sit up and groan, rubbing your muscles as you try to loosen the knots. You roll your arms as you stand up, yawning as you rub your eyes.
A dewy breeze flows in. The air feels like rain but the density has yet to break. You remember vaguely in the middle of the night cracking the window to cool off, your room stagnant and stale.
You near the window in your baggy shirt, dampened slightly with your sweat. It’s caught under your chest as you bulge against the fabric. You pull it free as you stand in front of the pane and blanch as you see movement on the other side. Shoot.
Your eyes meet Steve’s as he closes the window across from yours. He can feel the approaching storm too. He smiles and gives a two-fingered wave. You lift your hand weakly, barely extending your fingers before you tug shut the curtains. How much did he see? How much could he see?
You go out to get the day started. The overhead light of kitchen blares yellow across the space and you put the coffee pot on to brew. As you wait, you tidy the table, once more cluttered with your mother’s forgotten distractions. The crossword book, several pens, a home magazine, and several wrappers.
You slow the pour of coffee into your mug as you hear your mom’s bedroom door. You stare at the doorway until she appears. She limps to the table and sits heavily. You put the cup before her and grab another for yourself. She mutters and leans her head in her hand. She was home late last night.
You go to grab her inhaler from the bathroom. Once more, it’s missing. You return and find it on the counter hidden beside a used plate. It's only then you notice the blackened frozen fries on the cookie sheet. What the heck?
“Ugh, that man,” she croaks, letting it roll into a laugh, “he convinced me to have a little wine after the milkshake.” You put her inhaler in front of her. She raises her head and scowls. She rubs the furrow between her brows. “And then another. And another.”
You don’t even remember her getting home. You were up until one in the morning drawing. She must have been much later. How hadn’t you heard her make all this mess?
You sip your coffee around cleaning up. You wash the glass from the milkshake Steve brought over and set it aside. Your mother hacks and clears her throat.
“Mm, he’s too nice,” she mutters, “told him you didn’t need that. Too much sugar. You don’t even like strawberry.”
You hide your frown. You like strawberry. You’re not sure why she thinks otherwise. She’s never really asked.
“I’ll bring the glass back--”
“You remember your manners,” she girds before she hums into her coffee cup. She gulps through her wet lips noisily. “I don’t need you ruining this.”
“I will, mom.”
“Ugh,” she stands up with a groan, “I need my chair.”
Her hand trembles and the cup with it. She spills a little over the sides but doesn’t pay attention to it. You dump the tray of burnt fries and put it in the sink. You just cleaned this place top to bottom. You don’t think you’re that messy but it’s always a disaster.
You clean the rest of the dishes and put them away. Your mom hollers for more coffee and you bring the pot with you to refill her cup. She leans it on her chest and closes her eyes.
“I’m going to take the glass back now, I guess.”
“Mph, do whatever,” she utters irritably.
You trod back to your room and change into real clothes; straight-legged jeans and a stripped jersey tee. You just want to get this over with. It’s so awkward. You would rather your mom just take it back the next time she goes over but she’s in rough shape. It must be the alcohol. She’s not really supposed to have any.
You grab the glass and put on your shoes. As you come out, there’s a speckling of rain falling from the sky. You go up the walk and around the sidewalk, coming back down the pavement squares to Steve’s porch. You stop and look up at his front door. You climb the steps and drag your feet to the door.
You tap the bell. It’s one of those ones with the camera built-in. You feel overly conscious as you stand before the lens. The door opens before you can prepare yourself.
“Hey, sweetie,” Steve greets, “how are you?”
“Erm. Okay. Here.”
You hold out the glass. He doesn’t take it. He leans on the doorframe and smile.
“Crummy day, huh? Supposed to thunderstorm soon,” he comments, “too bad, I was really wanting to get that pool going.”
“Mm, yeah,” you keep the glass raised before you.
“Oh well, guess I’ll have to figure out what to do all pent up. Maybe a movie night? With all this moving, I’m way behind.”
You look at his chest, staring at the short-sleeved button up with chagrin. What is he talking about? Why is he talking so much?
“You got any suggestions? You youngins always know what’s hip,” he shakes his head and laughs, “sorry, I sound old, don’t I?”
“No,” you answer dully.
“No what? No suggestions or no I don’t sound old?” He challenges.
Your eyes go round and you look him in the face. “I don’t know.”
“I’m teasing--”
“Here,” you wiggle the glass at him.
He takes it, his fingers brushing against yours. You let it go and recoil. You bare your teeth strangely and back away, “thanks, er. Bye.”
You turn and cringe at the grey sky. You trudge off the porch and cut across the lawn, too mortified not to trod over his grass. You clamber up the front steps and quickly shut yourself inside the house. You hiss at yourself as you press your back to the door.
“Don’t slam the goddamn door,” your mother sneers, “Jesus. No wonder this place is falling apart.”
🏠
It’s one of those days where you’re just sad. You can’t pinpoint why. It’s just a vague malaise that won’t leave. Even as the sun beams and deepens to a soft evening hue, you can’t see a light among the dark.
You don’t know how long you’ve been like that. Under your covers, crying for no good reason. It just hurts to be. You keep your arm folded over your pounding head. You just want to sleep and yet you can’t cross the barrier into unconscious.
You give up and roll onto your back, pulling the blanket to your waist. You exhale and stare up at the ceiling. You’re head swims from the deluge of tears. You sop them up with the sheet and sit up. Your head is full and throbbing.
You get up, bleary-eyed, and muddle your way through reality. You pull open your door and find the bathroom on instinct alone. You shut yourself in and blow your nose. The effort has you even more dizzy. You shake your head, trying to clear out the fog, and turn on the cold water. You throw it across your face, holding a wet palm to your forehead to try to ease the tension.
Your ears tickle with a strange noise. A low drone. Like bass on the front television. Now and again, your mom will amp up the TV but it’s unexpectedly loud. You twist off the faucet and stand straight. You dry off and head back into the hall, peering down at the shifting light glaring from the living room doorway.
“Woahhh,” the voice catches you unaware as someone collides with you from behind in the dim hallway. You stumble and turn to face Steve as popcorn scatters onto the floor, tumbling over the brim of the bowl. The smell tugs at your stomach, “sorry sweetie, I didn’t see you there.”
You look at his silhouette, unable to make out any of his features. You didn’t even know he was there. Your mother didn’t even warn you. You suspect that may have been purposeful.
“Sweetie?”
“Sorry,” you back up, “didn’t mean... to get in the way.”
You turn and shuffle back to your room. He follows, “your mom said you weren’t feeling good. Hope you get better soon, but if you’re interested, we’re watching a movie.”
Your bedroom door is wide open. If you’d known, you would’ve been sure to shut it tight.
“No, thank you,” you grab the handle and slowly shift the door behind you.
“No problem,” he calls after you, “offer stands if you change your mind.”
You click the door shut gently and stay on the other side, listening for his footsteps. He lingers, a bit too long, and it’s only as he walks away that you go back to your bed. There’s something strange about him. Or maybe it’s just you.
#steve rogers#dark steve rogers#dark!steve rogers#steve rogers x reader#drabble#series#the girl next door#au#silverfox au#mcu#marvel#captain america
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Now hush little baby, don't you cry, everything's gonna be alright
The idea for the fic came to me completely by accident. A friend who has a child talked about how she spends time with him. And I have no idea how to communicate with children. English is not my native language, errors may occur. As always, feel free to share your thoughts :)
Buggy and F/Reader - Masterlist is here.
Description: You and Buggy have a little daughter. The ship is moored and you go to rest, leaving Buggy with the child.
Warnings: Fun (I have no experience with kids, sorry if there are discrepancies), Buggy is practically hysterical.
Words: 1815
Taglist: @gingernut1314, @operationroots
The title is taken from “Mockingbird” by Eminem.
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“Y/N, it’s screaming again!” Buggy growled into his pillow.
“That's not it, Buggy, it's your daughter.” You muttered into his chest.
“This is your baby, velvet cake.” He buried his face in your hair.
“It’s as much mine as it is yours, Buggy.” You stroked his arm. “We made her together. Remember that night? At the end of sex you yelled that you would become king of the pirates.”
“It was good!” He reluctantly got out of bed and walked towards the crib that was located not far from your shared bed.
Inside the crib lay a little girl with Y/E/C and blue hair. Every time Buggy looked at his daughter, he was glad inside himself that she had not inherited his nose.
“What should I do with her?” He asked loudly.
“First of all, don't scream. Second of all, rock her first.”
“I'm not very good with children. Can I wait until she turns 18 and then start raising her?” Buggy looked at you as you stretched in bed. “How did I even end up with children?” He scratched his head and took the child into his arms. “So, what is next?”
“Just rock her. Like this.” You took the pillow in your hands and showed how it should be done.
“OK.” Buggy swung his daughter one way, then the other, then swung her one way again and the other again. "Seems to work, velvet cake! She cries less.”
“You see, you're doing great, my love.” You got out of bed, put on your slippers and, shuffling along the floor, approached them both. "You'll learn everything in time, Buggy. Hello, my Lily Gold." You waved to your daughter.
“It’s easy for you to say - you’ll learn.” Buggy chuckled and rolled his eyes dramatically. “You’re a woman, you know how to do it. It’s in your nature.”
“Hell, no!” You shook your head. “It just somehow happened that I had to take one under my wing to raise one.” You pecked him on the cheek. “Big.” Smack on his lips. “Capricious.” Smack on his nose. “Child. So, I’ll go wash up and make us breakfast. I also need to go to the store on the island and buy something.”
“What? Did something happen?” Buggy became noticeably nervous. “Are you feeling unwell? Is there something wrong with the baby?”
“No, no!” You softened your voice, trying to calm him down. “Don't get me wrong, I love you both, but I want to get some rest. I have a spa appoitnment.”
While you were making breakfast, Buggy sat next to you, holding your daughter in his arms. He was loudly clattering plates and mugs and yelling at anyone who came into the kitchen and spoke loudly (so it seemed to him, even though everyone was whispering). Buggy and your daughter at breakfast certainly made you smile, but at the same time it was a disaster. They were both constantly dropping things, getting messy in their food, and they both started whining if something didn't go their way. You would just roll your eyes, convincing yourself that he was the love of your life, the love you sometimes wanted to strangle. You got up from your chair, wiped their faces, and continued drinking your morning coffee.
You went to your room, Buggy and Lily followed you. He constantly asked how soon you would return, what he should do and how to get along with children in general.
“Learn, daddy! You are the culprit of this creature.” You adjusted his bandana and looked into his scared eyes. “For the record, I have no regrets. I love our family. You and our daughter. But since this will be a copy of you, I need to gain strength. That's it, I'm off. Bye, my love. Bye, Lily! I'll be back in three hours.”
“THREE HOURS???” Buggy's eyes widened, but he looked at your slightly tired face, exhaled and kissed your forehead. “Fine.”
“Bye, my captain. I love you!" You pecked him on the lips and left.
Buggy sat down on the bed, holding Lily in his arms. Fortunately, she was no longer a newborn baby, because that period was a nightmare for you. The baby was screaming all the time, Buggy was screaming all the time.
“So. What should I do with you?” Buggy took his daughter and turned her over in his hands. She laughed happily and tried to grab his nose. “No, Lily! Not the nose! We don't touch daddy's nose.” He muttered and looked around. “Oh! You're a child. You must love toys, right?”
Buggy grabbed Lily in his arms, walked with her to the toys and put her on the floor. “Who do you want to play, me sweet candy? Pony? Lamb? Pig?" He sorted through the toys and showed them one by one.
The girl looked at her father with batted eyes and grabbed his nose again.
“Fuck! Lily Gold! You can't touch daddy's nose!” Buggy leaned back a little.
“Honk!” Lily said and pointed to her nose. “Dad. Nose. Honk.”
Buggy looked at his daughter doomedly. “Do you want dad to make a honk with his nose? Maybe you’ll choose the lamb?”
She shook her head, made a face and crossed her arms.
He rolled his eyes, growled and said a dissatisfied “okay”, squeezing his nose so that it made a sound. “You like your mother, love to do this with me. Well, Lily. What else do you want to do?”
Buggy tilted his head and looked at his daughter. “Thank God you don't have my nose." He took her in his arms and said in a whisper. “But daddy will always protect you. You and your mom. I never let someone hurt you, my biggest treasure." Buggy kissed his daughter on the top of the head.
Lily got off his feet, took the ball and handed it to him.
“Lily Gold, daddy doesn't know how to make balloon dogs.” Buggy shrugged.
She immediately made a face again and began to scream, and cry.
Buggy rolled his eyes and hissed through his teeth . “Mother fuc~. Okay, I'll do it, just stop yelling!" He took the balloon, somehow inflated it and made something that vaguely resembled a dog. He gave it into his daughter's hands, and the balloon immediately burst. And Lily yelled even louder.
“Fu-u-ck! What does your mother do at such moments?” Buggy grabbed his head.
At that moment, one of the freaks knocked on the cabin. “Captain?!”
“WHAT?!” Buggy barked and went to the door.
“We are almost replenished, and we know where the Straw Hat's are going.” The freak gave him papers.
“I don't give a fuck about the Straw Hat right now.” He threw the papers back in the man's face. “I'm sitting with the daughter while Y/N is away.”
“Excuse me, Captian, you're not sitting with your daughter.” The freak shook his head.
“What? What are you talking about! Here s~.” Buggy pointed his finger at the place where he was sitting a couple of minutes ago.
“Where? Where's she? Where's the baby?” He grabbed the freak by the clothes and started shaking him. “Where is my daughter?”
“I don't know, Capta-a-in!!” The freak's head was bobbing like a bobblehead.
“Oh, fuck!! Oh, fuck!! Y/N will kill me. She will kill me!” Buggy grabbed his head and began to rush around the room. “Get out of the way!” He threw the freak aside and ran out of the cabin.
Buggy practically ran around the ship, calling his daughter's name in a whisper. He was afraid that you might appear earlier. He turned the corner and saw blue hair flash.
“Gotcha!” Buggy hugged Lily tighter and picked her up. “How did you manage to escape? For year and a half, you are a very fast girl! Don't scare dad like that again, okay?”
“Richie! Richie!” Lily grabbed Buggy by the hair and began to pull.
“Ouch! No-o-o! We're not going to Richie, Lily! He's probably sleeping.” Buggy carried the girl back to the cabin and sat her on the bed. “I don’t know what to do with you. Do you want to draw? Let’s draw!” He took out pencils and sheets of paper and gave them to her.
“Richie!” Lily threw everything on the floor.
“OK.” He scratched his head and looked around, “Do you want to play balll? Let's play ball!” He gave Lily a small yellow ball. “See? Are you happy? Please, my sweet candy, show daddy your happy face!”
“Richie!!” Lily threw the ball in Buggy's face.
“Damn!” He rubbed his forehead. “What should I do with you?!” Buggy grabbed his head and was ready to scream. “I know! Let daddy show you some chop chop tricks!” He separated his hand and gave it into his daughter's hands. “You see how dad can do it? Cool? Please, say it’s cool!!” Buggy was on the verge of hysterics.
“RICHIE!!!” Lily stomped her foot and threw her hand at Buggy's face.
“Fuck!” He attached his hand back. “Okay. Do you want to see Richie? Let's go to see Richie. Maybe he'll finally eat daddy.” Buggy muttered under his breath, took Lily in his arms and walked down the ship.
They entered the room where the lion was sitting, and Buggy put the girl on the floor. Lily looked at him and smiled.
“What? Why are you smiling? Finally satisfied, little s~?” He crossed his arms.
“Richie-e-e!” Lily happily ran towards the lion and began to try to climb onto him.
Buggy smiled and approached his daughter. He helped her climb up the lion and watched carefully to make sure she didn't fall. “That’s my girl! I'm so pr~”
“What are you doing here?” Buggy heard your voice behind him. “I came to the cabin, and your freaks told me that you were with Richie.” You walked up to Buggy and kissed him on the cheek. “How are you?”
“We’re great. It’s easy to sit with kids. I don't understand why you're complaining.”
“Liar.” You hugged him and placed your head on his shoulder.
“Has it been three hours already?” Buggy wrapped his arm around your waist.
“No. Just an hour. It turns out that I have a spa appointment for tomorrow. So you’ll have to sit with Lily tomorrow. By the way, I bought you a gift. Whiskey!” You pulled the bottle out from behind your back. “I also thought that maybe we could leave Lily to someone from the crew today and spend some time together? What do you think?” You snuggled closer to him and winked.
“I like this idea. And you know what I was thinking of, my velvet cake?” Buggy looked at you with the corner of his eye, glancing at Lily.
“About what, my beloved Captain?” You asked softly and ran your fingers along his neck.
“Let’s have another child?!”
#one piece#buggy the clown#buggy live action#one piece live action#buggy one piece#opla buggy the clown#buggy fanfiction#buggy fic#opla buggy the clown x reader#buggy the clown x reader#opla buggy the clown x you#buggy x female reader#buggy the clown x you#opla buggy x reader#buggy x you#buggy x reader
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John: Oh, hey, there you are. Been looking all over for you.
#tv: sga#sga: sunday#my gifs#stargate atlantis#john sheppard#teyla emmagan#ronon dex#proof that teyla can't lie for shit#and she is just as much as a disaster as the rest of them#i love them so much#sorry not sorry this is so long
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Anyways with Walpurgisnaught Rising coming out y'all better start acting real normal about Homura real quick
#me when a 14 year old suffers through repreated trauma and finally does something bad out of desperation#“Uh is Homura actually a horrible evil person? uh has Homura ALWAYS been a bad person?? god i hate Homura so much” please stop actually lol#me when i think Homura hates every member of the Holy Quartet just because she only tries to save Madoka#please please i am begging you to rewatch the series she TRIED to save everyone COUNTLESS times it always ended in disaster#she still obviously is UPSET when she watches the rest of them die they were her FRIENDS she jusy doesn't have big reactions to it#because she's USED to it she's EXPECTING it like fjfhdjdjddf Madoka Magica makes me feel things#i love Homura so so much she's such a good character i wish the best for her i need her to find happiness#every day i am devastated that Madoka Magica was going to have a happier ending but then they just left it open for rebellion#and then they left rebellion open ended and didn't do anything with it for 11 years fnfncnfndf#anyways Nagisa has a VA credited for this one so my baby girl is coming back!!!
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The thing about romance is, it makes a good story.
As soon as Neil described season 2 as "quiet, gentle, romantic" I figured we'd be in for it, because as he's the first to point out, writers are liars. And the best way to deceive is with truth.
Season 2 is romantic. The trappings of romance are everywhere. Crowley tries to set up Nina and Maggie by trapping them under an awning during a rainstorm, a classic cinematic bonding technique. Aziraphale's chosen method comes from his beloved books: the ball, the dancing, appearing as a pair in public, hands held as you twirl gracefully with your heart thrilled and racing. If they can set up a sensational kiss that will unlock the happy ever after. They've lived on earth, they've studied the tropes, they know how romance works.
The problem is a story is only a story.
Nina and Maggie had the classic romantic setup completely by accident before Aziraphale and Crowley ever began trying to interfere with them. They get locked in Nina's coffeeshop. They can't escape or communicate with anyone else, they end up talking by candlelight because there's no electricity, Nina offers wine. Maggie mentions how she'd hoped for a chance to talk to Nina, and now here they are. It's every bit as much a standard as what Aziraphale and Crowley attempt to arrange. Blanket scenarios galore exist because of that starting point. We love that story. And there's nothing wrong with that.
But it's still only a story, it's not enough. Because once that moment of connection is over, however lovely it was, all the rest of the world comes flooding back in in the form of dozens of angry text messages. Nina's messy entrapping relationship hasn't magically gone away just because she and Maggie shared a romantic encounter.
And it's so tempting think oh well, that's easy. We'll just give them more romantic encounters and eventually those will overwhelm the rest of the baggage. Must do, because it'll make them fall in love, and once they realize they're in love that trumps all other considerations, right? So it'll be fine. Love Conquers All.
Neil also mentioned Pride and Prejudice.
Darcy knows he's in love early on and makes a disasterous proposal that shows that he has no understanding of Elizabeth's perspective, possibly hasn't even thought about it. They've been meeting in forest lanes for walks, conversing, had tete-a-tetes in the sitting room, danced at a ball. And while his turn of phrase isn't as flattering as he thinks, he's still offering her everything he thinks she wants and needs: affection, security, his good name, wealth, an escape from the embarrassments of her situation, the world. How can there be anything to object to? Why would anyone ever refuse so much of value?
Elizabeth quite rightly cuts him to pieces. He lashes back with a few hard truths of his own and they separate. During that separation, he thinks and he learns. He takes to heart the criticisms she offered, re-examines his assumptions, opens his eyes. Thinks about her perspective and how sometimes the only difference between pride and arrogance is where you're standing. He does the work. When they meet again he tries to demonstrate that he's learned--not in order to court her again (yet), but because the only real apology he can offer, the only one that would have weight, is to show that he's grown, he listened to her. He changed.
Elizabeth of course has her own journey, accepting that many of her own conclusions about Darcy were erroneous because they were formed without her having the full picture to hand, and once she's done that she has to apply it to her own situation as well. She loves her family, but they do place her at a disadvantage on a number of levels, leading eventually to full-out disaster as her younger sister carelessly ruins all of their reputations. It's hard to admit, it's mortifying, but Darcy was offering her a great deal she needs. His offer did have worth for all that she dismissed it as an insult. And as she learns to value his own character more highly, and then as she sees that he did listen to her even though she insulted him so thoroughly...well, she grows too. And when they do eventually come together it's not because of courting and balls. There's a big romantic gesture in his rescue of her sister but even that isn't why they'll get their happy ever after. It was just the catalyst for the conversation. They win because they've learned how to understand each other and how to communicate for the future. How they can strengthen and support each other, how to balance their strengths and weaknesses. The films leave them at the wedding, but the book shows a bit of their marriage too, and during it they keep learning from each other. Their relationship is held up as a superior love story for good reasons.
The end of season one was romantic too. Crowley stopped time rather than face a world where Aziraphale would never speak to him again, Aziraphale walked into hell to protect Crowley, they dined at the Ritz and toasted the world. But then they stopped. Sure they spent time together, talked, enjoyed each other's company. But if they were talking about important things would Crowley still be living in his car? They had a bit of respite but all that real world baggage that exists outside of the romantic moment hasn't been faced, none of it. Four or five years sounds like a long while but for beings who are quite literally older than the earth? That's just an intermission.
Nina's relationship ends, leaving her with a tangled mess; Maggie realises the sweet dream of love she's been longing for isn't as important as the real Nina. They talk. They plan. Nina will sort through her life, get closure, figure out what went wrong with Lindsay and what she wants from a relationship, learn how to ask for respect instead of just bending under her partner's demands. Maggie will support Nina the way Nina needs, which sometimes means helping her get oat milk for the shop and sometimes means giving her processing space. They're on the same page; they're going to do the work. That's why most likely they'll succeed. To quote one of my favourite fanfics: it's not happily ever after, but it's a chance. It's all going to be okay. (The Profane Comedy by Mussimm, who absolutely nailed this theme)
The romance is nice, it's lovely. We need it to keep ourselves going. To give ourselves the dreams that help us get through the days and nights. But it's not the relationship. It's not enough on its own. The wedding can be the grandest most beautiful ceremony ever with doves flying and sweeping music and bells ringing, but that doesn't guarantee the marriage will last.
Crowley and Aziraphale have had their romantic gestures, oodles of them. One wing raised to protect the other from falling stars, another from rain. Shared ground, shared interests, hands offered in friendship and held on a bus. They've tried to get to the same page, they really have. They just aren't there yet. The biggest most important things still haven't been talked about, and season 2 showed there are even more of those big important things than we'd realised.
The show paints Maggie as Aziraphale's foil and Nina as Crowley's, even to the point of Nina casually calling Maggie 'angel'. But Aziraphale's baggage is Nina's. The toxic relationship has to be processed and understood and closed, and it hasn't been, despite season one. Lindsay never really liked Nina very much, for all that they tried to keep her trapped; Heaven never really liked Aziraphale very much for all that he believed in it. They both let themselves be used. But Lindsay left Nina and went to their sister's, whereas now the head of Heaven has reached out to Aziraphale and said here, we can fix this, you can fix this, don't you want to fix this? Others are already writing about that and maybe I'll add to it later, not sure. And Crowley, like Maggie, has had a sweet dream that he has to set aside. Maybe he'll be able to pick it up again eventually, maybe not. But sometimes you offer support by buying oat milk or rescuing your beloved from the legions of hell, and sometimes you do it by standing back while they sort through their shit.
Quiet, gentle, romantic. It was.
But that's only part of the story. Now they have to do the work. They thought they had, but they were wrong, because there's so much they just hadn't touched yet and tried to cover over with relief and sleight of hand and alcohol and forgiveness. The apology dance doesn't mean much without showing that you listened and learned. They've faced so much trauma already and that should have been enough, we wanted it to be enough and so did they and it's such a blow for it to turn out that there's still more to do, that the baggage hasn't just gone away and can't be hidden under blankets or soothed with cocoa. The texts are still coming in and demanding answers.
But it'll be okay. It will. It's still a chance. And one that in the long run makes them better, builds something real that lasts.
The best stories, the ones that last longest and become classics, are the ones that don't end with the kiss under the awning or the blanket scenario or the wedding. They're the ones that heal us while the characters heal themselves. It's hard to accept that there's still more to do. Harder to imagine how it can possibly work out. And yes, bloody frustrating to wait and see.
And we'll get through that interim by telling even more stories. Because the story is never just a story. It's how we get through the work, it's what we tell ourselves so we can do the damn work. Stories are what we cling to and how we remind ourselves we're human and connect. A book is a person you can carry with you. We're not alone, none of us, stories connect us because we love them and see ourselves in them, which means we see each other.
Aziraphale's back up in Heaven to deal with his unfinished baggage; Crowley left his behind long ago and it's clearly going to come back and bite him in the arse however much he tries to go his own way. And they can't help each other with that. Not yet.
But they'll get there. So will we.
#good omens#good omens season 2#gos2 spoilers#good omens season 2 spoilers#crowley#aziraphale#ineffable husbands#nina#maggie#nina and maggie#stories#romance#relationships#am I projecting here#of course I am isn't that the whole point?#pride and prejudice#elizabeth and darcy#quiet gentle romantic#good omens meta
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MAGICAL DRYING DISASTER - T . NOTT
Mature Content Ahead
Theodore Nott x Fem!Reader
Summary: After waking up late and discovering you left your washing in the machine over night. You had no other choice to use magic to dry it - except it did dry but also shrunk, massively, in the process. Once Theo finds you let's just say he manages to keep it kept in till the common room. Then it's all fair game from there.
Warnings: SMUT, No Protection - PIV, Theodore is a munch - Fem Oral, Body Worship, Smidge of SubWhiney!Theo, Cursing
A/N: This is my first one-shot fic I've posted in a long time but also my first one EVER on tumblr. I used to write on wattpad and ao3 but took a very long hiatus. So excuse if my smut writing is a bit off or any spelling mistakes I currently have acrylics on - its quite hard to type.
Click Clack.. Click Clack...
You ran towards your class quickly, pulling town the absolute belt of a skirt you wore today before entering into your potions class. Late.
"Miss Neveah.. Thank you for finally joining us" Snape panned. His face expressionless as he stared at you. A slight hint of disapproval in his face.
"I'm sorry sir, it won't happen again!" You scurried to your seat beside Pansy.
"It most definitely will not" He groaned before turning back to the chalk board to continue his explanation.
You shimmied on your seat, pulling as much skirt down as you could. Practically flashing those behind you of your bright red thong and gorgeously placed star tramp stamp.
Nice touch is what you thought when you got it a few months ago after a night out in the muggle clubs with Pansy. She persuaded you and said Theo would love it. Or which he did.
"Y/N.. your skirt is practically a belt. Trying to flash us all?" She whispered, giggling as he peered down as your legs, absent of any tights aswell.
"Girl.. It shrunk when I tried to use magic to dry it. All my other skirts are dirty" You pouted. "I also couldn't find a pair of fucking tights, I was running so late"
"Its not that bad, just don't bend over if you can" She smiled as she reached to your ponytail tieing in a little green piece of ribbon into a bow. "And don't let Mr Lover boy see you" She snickered.
You sighed, focusing in the rest of your class. Praying not many people noticed. You were pretty daft thinking that. You were already the hot goss. It was only so long till Theo found out.
Though alot of boys in Hogwarts fancied you, they all knew about Theodore Nott swooping in, in 4th year the year before you 'blossomed' as they said. They say he saw the potential and snatched it up while they could.
You walked down the hall, pulling your books to your chest as your red bottoms clipped the wooden floor that spanned the whole school. Many turned your way gawking as you, mostly more than normal due to tour skirt size today.
You weren't a bad girl. You has good grades, you were overly nice to everyone just the people you hung round with were opposite. Many saying you were too nice.
After a quick detour to pick up an extra book from the library you shuffled down the corridor, your heels clicking their signature click against the oak as you walked towards your friends who stood beside your regular post class meeting pillar.
"Sorry I'm late!" You skipped towards them hurriedly. You watched as Theo whipped his head around, his jaw practically dislodging from his face as he stared at you.
Mattheo wolf whistled as he looked you up and down. Smirking as he pushed himself off the wall - "Damn Y/N, I didn't know you had this hiding somewhere"
"Neither did I" Theo's gaze burned through you as he bent his neck to get look at you from behind. Definitely a sight for sore eyes.
"I'm sorry- I fucked up a spell and I was running late I didn't mean to- OUCH! THEO!" you got cut off as he slapped his hand harshly against your ass before gripping a handful as he smirked down at you. The boys laughing at the pair of you.
"As much as I am thoroughly enjoying the sight Bella" He looked down at you, his gaze growing darker by each word that fell from his lips. He leaned in, practically growling in your ear."I don't like to share amore mio"
You gulped at his words as he pulled his jumper off, wrapping it around your waist. Slightly tugging on the fabric jerking you forward into his chest as he smiled down at you before kissing your forehead softly.
"As cute as you two are, everyone's looking. Can we clear out" Pansy groaned.
You snapped back into reality, quietly ushering an apology to the group as Pansy pulled your hand as you both walked hand in hand ahead of the boys.
You heard a smack and an 'ow' turning around quickly as you turned the corner seeing Theo slapping Mattheo across the head. "Flirt with someone else" He groaned. You giggled slightly at his protectiveness.
Once you arrived to the common room everyone scattered to do their own thing. Theo once more approaching you.
"Now..." a cheeky smile appeared on his lips as his hands held your hips softly as he peered down at you. The height difference really getting to you. "I can't stop thinking about that little skirt on you.." His hands slowly moving down and around to the curve of your ass as he nibbled at his lip. "..and how much I want to fuck you in it" He whispered the last part lowly as his tongue poked out and slid across his bottom lip as he squeezed your ass through his jumper.
"Then do it" You caught his gaze, already out of breath from his minimal touch.
It's like that's all he needed to hear. Like without warning and no regards for the fact your friends were just a few steps away bundled in the corner on the coaches - he pulled you tightly, hand on your ass against him as his lips crushed into yours. Needy kisses as if he hasn't kissed you in months.
The sudden rip of his jumper loosening the knot as it dropped to the floor. His hands sliding under the little fabric the skirt had as his nails gripped into the flesh on your ass cheeks. You yelped slightly and he took that as permission to shove his whole tongue down your throat. The kisses grew messier and messier as you both backed up towards the stairs, bumping into everything possible as you both chuckled.
Breaking the kiss as you both removed various pieces of clothing as you scrambled up the stairs. By the time you got to yours and Pansys' room you both had disregarded of practically everything. Theo quickly finishing unzipping his trousers before pushing you into the room, kicking the leg off quickly, flinging his trousers into the centre of the hallway as he shut the door behind him.
You stood infront of him in just your skirt, bra and panties as he ruffled his hair, staring at you like a kid in a candy shop, pondering what you try next.
"DONT WORRY WE'LL CLEAN UP AFTER YOU TWO!" Draco yelled, annoyance plastered in his voice.
That broke Theo out of the trance he was in as he lunged at you, unclipping your bra swiftly as he threw it across the room before pushing you against the bed.
"Fuck, I'm so hard. I can't- I just need to fuck you now" He groaned, biting at his lip anxiously as he stared down at you. "Get on all fours". You obliged and quickly.
You felt the sudden cold breeze against your clit as he tightly yanked on your thong, splitting it apart at he threw it on the floor aswell as he kicked off his boxers.
"Fuck your so hot" He groaned, dropping to his knees as he gripped your ass, spreading your cheeks wide as he licked a nice wet strip up your pussy.
A moan lodged itself in your neck as you bundled up the sheets in your hands as he let out a shaky breath.
"Wanna eat you out so bad, but my cock is throbbing.. Need to treat you well tho" He whined as he spat into his hand as he began to fuck it. His free hand gripping your ass as he dove his tounge deep into you.
You hung your head forward as you let out an exasperated sigh as your toes curled. Theo's tongue worked wonders inside of you. He ate you out like it was dire need. The roughness of his mouth sopping against your pussy as his tongue drilled into your hole. The wetness of both his mouth and your pussy mixing as he moaned against you as he continued to fuck the shit out of his hand. Loud moans rumbled against you as he sucked and twirled like no tomorrow.
You were drawing to your high as you noticed he stopped, pulling away for a moment as he let out a deep growl before a light whimper escaped his lips as he came up the bottom of your bed frame and on the floor. He panted for a moment, light whimpers leaving gis mouth as he toyed with his sensitive dick.
"Fuck- Sorry Principessa. I came, naughty of me to do so before I helped you. I'll make sure you feel extra good" His other hand colliding with your ass again as he dove back in. His nose rubbing harshly against your slit as he flicked his tongue continously against your clit. Sucking and nibbling at it from time to time as he continued to grip and massage at your ass.
The sudden overwhelming feeling drove you over the age as you screeched, yelping as you squirted all over his face. You gasped loudly, crashing to the bed as your legs shook slightly as you panted.
"Mhmm.. Love it when you squirt" You looked at Theo as he wiped the cum from his face, sucking his fingers like a dessert he's got to finish.
"You're so gorgeous, so fucking beautiful.. Beautiful body" He groaned as he slid his hands up your curves, moaning softly as the scene infront of him. "S'lucky.. So fucking lucky.."
He tapped your thigh, as you led on your stomach on the bed, your legs hanging off the end slightly as your tippy toes held against the floor.
"Gunna make you feel so good, amore" he cooed as he lied up his tip with your slit before thrashing it in harshly. You yelped once again at you looked back at him.
"Going to teach you not. to wear. a slut. short. skirt. again. fuck!" He growled with each thrust as your body jerked against his movements. Your body slid up and down the bed as your feet struggled to stay on the floor much longer as he pushed you up the bed.
It wasn't before long till Theo climbed ontop of you, straddling you as he drilled into you. Loud whimpers left you as you clawed at the sheets as you screamed into his duvet.
"FUCK!! ARGH- TEDDY!" you pleaded as your back arched, shoving your ass harder into him as his hands gripped your hips tightly, his nails scatting cresent moons to your flesh as your bodies recoiled against one another.
"Yes! Like that.. fuckkk Teddy more.. please!" You babbled. He reached over grabbing your neck as he pulled your body up against his chest. Your legs trapped between his as he squeezed them shut. His arm tightly against your stomach as he continued to drill up into your pussy. You gasped and whined continously as he groaned and growled into your ear. His grip growing tighter around your neck as he flexed his biceps, his tongue sliding up your jawline to your ear.
"Teddy- I'm gunna cum! Please please please PLEASE! Cum with me!" you whined as your eyes rolled back. The growing feeling in your stomach as his cock continued to thrash into you. You were drunk on the feeling of him buried into you. You tightly shut your thighs together for any ounce more of pressure you could grasp.
"Good girl- M'close" He panted.
Your eyes began to roll back as you gasped for air at the tightening of his arm around your neck. The bursting feeling in your stomach as your whole body recoiled and shook as you screamed like bloody murder with all the air you has left in your lungs as you came.
At that moment Theo threw you down, as your body twitched conthously. He gripped your ass as he thrusted deep before cumming in you. Groaning deeply as he threw his head back. Sweat trickling down his forehead and chest as he panted heavily.
Neither of you moved for a moment to compose yourself. You occasionally twitched at your body recoiled against his dick.
"Fuck me.. So good" Theo pulled out, sighing as he watched cum pool at your slit and began to slide down. You felt his tip against you again as he collected the escaping cum and slightly fucked it back into you. His dick entering you once more as you gasped at the feeling.
"Good girl.. such a good girl.." His light thrusts as he peppered you with kisses all over your back and shoulders.
He gasped slightly as he froze above you. You were about to question him till you felt a slightly release.
"Did you just cum again Teddy?" You giggled as he thrusted once more before pulling out and collapsing next to you.
"Its hard to last with you. You make me so addicted" He smirked, his head turned to look at you. He rested his hand on your ass, squeezing it lightly from time to time.
"I'm glad this skirt shrunk" He chuckled, his smile wide.
You shook your head as you laughed at him. "You're a fool" You shimmied towards him, flicking your leg over his chest as you cuddled into him. His body warm.
He kissed your shoulder softly before softly kissing your cheek, nibbling at your ear before whispering;
"Ti amo amore mio".
#theodore nott#theodore nott x reader#theo nott#theo nott x reader#slytherin#slytherin boys#harrypotter fanfiction#slytherin fanfiction#lorenzo zurzolo#theo nott smut#theodore nott smut#angelfrombenethfics
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Howdy dowdy, Partner. It's me, ya boi, Skinny Penis.
How would the Lords react to a selectively mute S/O? Especially their reaction to them talking to them for the first time.
I have this mental image of Heisenberg's S/O saying something really casually (while they're relaxing or something), and he just whips around to look at them and he just shouts "hoLY FUCK!"
Saw the first line of this ask and then it was followed by a cute prompt????---
Warnings: swearing, my typical brand of silly
Alcina Dimitrescu
She's so used to your quiet demeanor it's to the point where she COMPLETELY forgot that your silence is a choice.
Alcina quite honestly never expected you to speak to her, and she was mentally planning for the rest of your relationship to be this way -- all of the servants are learning to sign, just in case, and she has pens and paper in every room if you prefer to write as your form of communication.
When you do finally speak up, she's frozen. What.
Oh. You can. You...can speak?
It's one of the times you've ever seen Alcina baffled, because honestly? She has no idea what to do.
However, you can bet she IMMEDIATELY analyses the situation in order to make sure she can get you to keep talking to her. Whatever made this happen needs to be repeated as much as possible -- Now that she knows you can be made comfortable enough to speak, she needs to hear you speak again.
(It might not have been your intention, but you hit her right in the superiority complex. Her partner spoke to HER. JUST her. Exclusively. Alcina is going to be riding this high for decades)
The Lady Dimitrescu is a big believer in positive reinforcement with her loved ones, so you better believe that every time you speak she is extra affectionate, because she does like to hear your voice!💞
Essentially, you have prompted constant affection DO NOT RESIST---
Donna Beneviento
I mentioned this in my other Donna x Mute reader post, but Donna is able to relate to a mute s/o a lot.
She's pretty nonverbal herself, so often you two have moments of quiet peace, where the two of you are doing your own thing together in the same room, taking breaks only to hold hands, cuddle, and kiss each other sweetly.
Truly dreamy💕💕💕
The first time you speak to her though, she's sewing a new outfit for one of her dolls, while you're reading in the setee beside her.
You peak over her shoulder, clear your throat and say: "You're really talented, Donna".
She drops a stitch.
Her face is burning underneath her veil. The first thing you say to her is a complement??? About a skill she is actually proud of??? That's already enough to get her heart stuttering, but you said her name.
It feels like such a small thing, but it sends Donna into a tizzy. Your lips formed the syllables of her name, and she can't get over it. You said a compliment and her name in the same sentence.
She's swooning. Smitten. Overcome.
Expect some flustered giggling and a compliment in return.
Salvatore Moreau
Salvatore has no chill whatsoever.
He literally drops everything and scuttles across the room to stand in front of you, flitting his hands around you in excitement, not quite touching you but close.
He's! So! Excited!
He didn't process what you even said-- you SPOKE TO HIM!!!! Fireworks are going off in his brain, Kool and the Gang are celebrating the good times, life is beautiful and love is in the air....
Moreau is delighted by this development. You feel safe enough around him a monster to vocalize your thoughts. You trust him. He already knew you did, but this is confirmation he didn't even know he wanted. Moreau almost starts crying he's so relieved.
Meanwhile you're repeatedly trying to warn him about the disaster occurring on the stove.
"... Salvatore, honey, the pancakes are burning."
Honey???? HONEY??? Are you TRYING to kill him????
Salvatore staggers on his feet, unintentionally the most dramatic you've ever seen him.
Sighing, you hide a smile behind your palm and give him a little smooch on the cheek before you go rescue your breakfast.
Moreau flatlines. Better give him some mouth to mouth 💗.
Karl Heisenberg
Absolutely shocked the first time you speak.
He's working on a soldat, fully used to the silence as he solders body parts together to make a deadly monster worthy of murdering Mother Miranda.
"You missed a spot--"
jESUS FUCK
Very softly, you speak up again. "At the shoulder. It's not... It's not fully connected."
Heisenberg whips around to just...stare??? At you for a bit?? His face is totally expressionless, but make no mistake his brain is reeling.
What is he supposed to do here? You feel comfortable enough to talk with him--this is a big deal, right? Is he supposed to comfort you? Praise you?
Still, it's not in Heisenberg's nature to make a big deal of things, and he doesn't want to spook you.
Eventually he nods, grunts in acknowledgement, and gets back to work.
Still, your words ring in his ears. Your voice fits you so well? He never really thought about what you sounded like before, but honestly now it's all he can think about.
Much later, when you almost forget about the whole thing, he'll offhandedly say he's proud of you for finally speaking up for yourself.
It's kinda condescending? But you know Heisenberg pretty well, and the fact he refuses to meet your eyes let's you know he's just being his normal, socially stunted self.
Thank him for the "compliment" and you'll get a pleased grin back, as well as a teasing hair ruffle. He's...happy you're comfortable with him.
It just makes your relationship feel even more right. ❤️
#re8#resident evil village#resident evil 8#karl heisenberg#alcina dimitrescu#donna beneviento#salvatore moreau#lady beneviento x reader#lady dimitrescu x reader#alcina dimitrescu x reader#donna beneviento x reader#lord moreau x reader#lord heisenburg x reader#salvatore moreau x reader#karl heisenberg x reader#x reader#silly#soft
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love you anyway
r returns from losing out on going to the olympics with england to barcelona. alexia reminds her that she is more than just her losses.
You stared out at the rising sun, oranges and yellows painting the sky. This loss felt different than the world cup. At least then, you'd known you'd done everything you could. At least you'd made it to the final. Now, you weren't even going to the competition. You felt the weight of the loss land squarely on your shoulders. You'd missed the goal by barely an inch, you'd had the chance to score after Lucy. If you'd made it, the team would have made it. Instead, you sat on a flight back to Barcelona all alone.
You were supposed to leave with Keira and Lucy later in the day, but you'd moved your flight. You told them you just wanted to get home faster and see Alexia, but that as only part of it. You found that you couldn't look Lucy in the eye. She'd told you probably 10 different times that it wasn't your fault, but you knew it was. You'd seen how she'd collapsed on the pitch. It was her last chance at an international tournament, and you'd blown it. Lucy, who helped make you the player that you were, who'd been there for you from the beginning.
All you wanted was to get home and see Alexia. She'd been texting you, trying to gauge how you were handling the loss. If your lackluster responses were any indication, you weren't handling it well. You hadn't told her you were catching an earlier flight. She was supposed to train, and you didn't want to distract her from getting back to 100%.
A part of you was also kind of nervous; logically, you knew Alexia wouldn't be disappointed in you for missing the goal. She held herself to impossibly high standards, was so incredibly hard on herself, but she'd made it clear early on that your performance on the pitch would never affect how she saw you. While your brain seemed to know this, your heart clenched uncomfortably whenever you thought of her watching the missed opportunity, the disappointment you imagined on her face.
So, after you landed, making your way quickly through the airport, you left her texts on read, knowing she'd see you soon anyway. You got your luggage as fast as possible, hopping in an uber. You directed it to your and Alexia's apartment; she would be at training, which meant you had plenty of time to shower and make yourself presentable. You're sure you looked like a disaster, eyes puffy from crying yourself to sleep last night. The drive was a blur, and you got lost in your thoughts again, startling slightly when the car pulled up in front of your building.
Your phone dinged again while you were in the elevator, and you pulled it out.
-How are you this morning, mi amor?
-What time does your flight get in? I'll come get you guys from the airport.
-Y/n?
The texts were spaced a couple hours apart, and you sighed, knowing you had to respond before Alexia freaked out. You didn't want her to rush home from training for you though, so you kept your answer vague.
-Sorry. I'm on an earlier flight, you'll have just finished training. I'll just uber and see you when I get home.
You put your phone away, stepping out of the elevator and walking to your door. Unlocking it, you stepped inside, dropping your bags to the ground heavily. You leaned back against the shut door, resting your head on it and closing your eyes, enjoying the feeling of being home immensely. Sighing, you pulled your bag into the bedroom, not even stopping to unzip it before hopping in the shower. You went quickly, desperate for a quick nap before Alexia got home.
Getting out, you heard your phone ding again, and you picked it up. You hadn't been expecting a response from Alexia yet, as she normally didn't check her phone much during training.
-Bebita, you know I have your location right? I checked to see if you were at the airport yet and you were already home. If you needed some time alone, you could have just said so.
Normally you would have remembered that key piece of information, but your brain was a mess. You responded right away, feeling bad that she thought you wanted space from her.
-No, Ale, I don't want time alone, I want you. I just didn't want you to rush home from training, you just got back. I'm good here, take your time.
Awaiting a response, you walked to the closet, not even bothering with your side. Instead, you pulled on a pair of Alexia's shorts, walking over to the chair in the corner of the room where she'd discarded the sweatshirt she'd worn to bed. Pulling it on, you inhaled deeply, the comforting smell of Alexia washing over you, a soft floral scent flooding your senses.
Figuring that if Alexia was going to respond anytime soon, she would have already, you climbed onto the bed, grabbing a throw blanket from the end and wrapping yourself up in it. You settled on Alexia's side, burrowing into her pillow and shutting your eyes. You drifted off rather quickly, completely missing a text from your girlfriend.
-Too late.
You didn't hear the front door open, the sound of Alexia dropping her bag right by the door and searching for you. You didn't even hear her enter the bedroom.
Alexia walked in quietly, having expected you to be asleep. She'd heard from Keira that you'd had a rough night, and she knew how exhausting traveling was for you. Her heart melted at the sight of you curled up in her clothes, head buried in her pillow. You were out cold, so she decided to shower before climbing in with you.
She'd checked your location in a panic after you hadn't responded, shocked to find that you were already almost home. She'd figured that you'd just wanted some space to process the loss; it's what she would have wanted. Your response to her told a different story though, and she was again reminded of how thoughtful you were. Fully lying about when your flight got in so she wouldn't miss training? She really couldn't have been mad if she wanted to be.
Alexia showered quickly, wanting nothing more than to be snuggled up next to you. The past week without you had been torture; international breaks were always hard, but since she'd returned to Barcelona after the first day, she'd been bored out of her mind without you here.
She pulled on clothes, before climbing onto the bed, careful not to jostle you. She rested her head by yours, facing you. She took in the sight of your puffy eyes, and knew you'd been crying. Not able to help herself, she brushed a piece of hair out of your face, keeping her touch soft. You stirred slightly, and she froze. You only mumbled incoherently though, before reaching out and grabbing her sweatshirt in you fist. You leaned into her, and she kept still, letting you wiggle closer until your face was pressed against her neck, both hands now gripping her top tightly.
Alexia wrapped her arms around you and you sighed contentedly, even in your sleep, pushing yourself impossibly closer to her. She felt your soft breaths hitting the skin of her neck rhythmically, inhaling the scent of your shampoo. She wasn't tired at all, wide awake really, but she was more than happy to lay here with you while you slept, right where she knew you wanted her. She held you close to her with one arm, picking up her phone in the other, where a text from Lucy waited for her.
-Hola Capi. Keep an eye on y/n. I think she's really beating herself up over this one.
-----
You woke up naturally an hour or so later, to the feeling of someone running their nails up and down your back. You immediately recognized the body under you as Alexia, and you blinked your eyes open, pulling back slightly from the crook of her neck. She met your gaze with a soft smile.
"Hola, mi amor." She murmured, her low voice the best sound you'd heard in days. You hummed in response, still sleepy. You rested your chin on her chest, looking up at her. She tangled her hand in your hair, scratching lightly at your scalp. Your eyes fluttered shut, thoroughly enjoying the close contact with the midfielder.
"How is my girl, hm?" She asked, not stopping her motions.
"Missed you," you replied, voice still thick with sleep.
" I missed you too, bonita," she paused. "I'm really sorry about the olympics, y/n." She kept her voice soft, but still felt you tense slightly against her.
"Me too," came your response, tone defeated. Alexia thought about the text from Lucy, studying you closely. Your eyes were closed, still laying against her, but your shoulders were tense, and you looked like you were incredibly weighed down.
"You played two incredibly games, though. I'm really proud of you." She said, speaking with conviction. You shook your head on instinct, opening your eyes to look at her. "Yes you did, amor. I watched." She said, raising an eyebrow at you.
"Then you saw me lose the game for us." You said, voice catching slightly.
"I saw you take an incredible shot on goal, and just barely miss. I wouldn't call that losing the game for the team."
"If I'd have made it, we would have gone through, Ale." Your voice was really wavering now.
"And if the Dutch player had missed, you would have gone ahead. Or if any of your teammates shots had gone in. You can't blame yourself for that." Alexia told you, watching carefully as tears began to well in your eyes.
"No, Ale, it's different. I fucked it up for everyone. I let the whole team down, I let Sarina down, I let Lucy down, I let you-" You broke off, clenching your jaw shut tightly in an attempt to stop yourself from crying. Alexia's hands came to cup your face, tilting your head to look at her.
"I don't want to hear you talk about yourself like that," Alexia began, face fixed with intensity. "That could have gone either way, it was just chance." You said nothing, blinking hard. "And you haven't let anyone down, baby. Not the team, not Sarina, not Lucy. None of them blame you for this. And you absolutely didn't let me down, mi niña. You made me so proud, like you always do."
Alexia watched as you continued to valiantly fight off your tears, your lip trembling hard. "It's alright to be disappointed, but I won't have you blaming yourself," she said, almost sternly. She watched you for another second. "You can cry, bonita. Come here."
At her words you let yourself go, allowing her to tug you up into her arms. She held you tightly as you cried against her, murmuring soothing words into your hair, interspersed with pressing kisses to your head. You cried for a while, getting her shirt extremely wet with tears. Her hold on you was unrelenting, though, and she didn't pull away until your sobs had slowed to occasional sniffles. Using the sleeve of her sweatshirt, she delicately wiped the stray tears off your face, before pressing a long kiss into your forehead. You gave her a weak smile, unsure how to put into words how much she meant to you.
"Well, I still get to go to Paris. Really live out my WAG dreams." You joked, and Alexia chuckled.
"Will I finally get to see you in a jersey with my name on the back?" She asked.
"You'll have to marry me if you want to see me with your last name on my jersey." You replied, smirking up at her. Her mouth twisted into a grin, and she shook her head at you teasingly.
"Well, I better get moving then if you're gonna be properly dressed for Paris." She wasn't joking. You knew this, but you didn't realize to what extent she really wasn't joking. If everything went according to plan, she'd have an engagement ring on your finger by June. You settled back against her, soaking up the time with your girl, as she did the same, her mind getting lost in engagement plans.
-----
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Hi, can I request a platonic Rosie(or several overlords if that’s okay) with a Female reader who’s a teenager overlord who accidentally became an overlord?
The Overlord of Disasters
Fem teenage reader x platonic Rosie (and other overlords)
This got way too long so I tried to shorten it, hope you still enjoy it.
Word count: 2886
Note: I actually am working on a young adult/teenager oc that has the powers to become an overlord, so the fact that this is my first request is very funny. When I've finished her design, I'll write about her. But for now, here is the story of Y/n the overlord of disasters.
Y\n had to admit that she wasn't the nicest person but she never expected to end up in hell. HELL, like yess she was a bit of a troubled teen... she was a petty thief, yess, but some of her peers were much worse. Besides, she was only fifteen when she died. She never had the chance to do better. That should've given her at least some leeway? Right?? RIGHT???
But no, she ended up in hell.
When Y/n first arrived, she roamed the dangerous streets looking for shelter. Her face and slim goat-like stature was hidden by a torn cloak. She tried to be inconspicuous, discreet, low-key but she overlooked one thing... Our Y/n was ridiculously clumsy. So when she tripped over her own foot, her arm bumped into the light pole causing it to fall over onto a postal van. That in turn caused all the letters to fly out on the street. Some of the papers got carried up by the wind, eventually getting stuck onto the cord of a power pylon. Then there was fire, which spread onto a building...
Everyone's eyes were focused on her, including a set of hollow eye socket. It didn't take long for the demons that lived in the now burning building to storm her.
"YOU FUCKING BITCH!!!" One incredibly tall shark demon took the lead. "I'm going to rip fucking longs out of your chest and feed it to those CANIBAL FREAKS!!!"
At first Rosie didn't want to intervene. It really wasn't her style to get involved into random street fights, even though she found Y/n's disastrous display hilarious. But now that the loan shark insulted her people, she felt it was her duty to step in.
"Gentlemen, whatever might be the problem?" Rosie stepped in between you and the threatening hoard and flashed her sharp teeth to them. "You aren't bullying this poor newcomer, right?"
"Uhm, n-no miss, uhm Rosie. We're sorry." Before Rosie could open her mouth again, they ran back into the still burning building.
The overlord then turned to you. "Now darling, I take it you don't have a place to stay?"
Y/n shook her head.
"Then you can stay with me. I'm quite the powerful demon."
From that day on Y/n stayed with Rosie. During the years of living together, the two grew quite close. The overlord took over a motherly role for the teen. Everyone in cannibal town loved the unofficially adopted daughter of Rosie, they were even willing to put up with Y/n's clumsy nature.
Rosie truly loved her and when Y/n accidentally called her mom while helping out in the store, she was the happiest demoness in all of hell.
From that day on Rosie introduced Y/n as her daughter to anyone and everyone, even some of her fellow overlords.
Alastor and Y/n had met many times and often had tea together. The man often joked about how it's never boring with her. She had also met Zestial and Camilla a few times, but she wasn't as close with them as Alastor and Rosie.
One day Y/n had to make a trip to the Doomsday district. Rosie had, reluctingly, sent you to deliver a dress to a customer. She was all alone, her hand rested on the angelic steel knife on her belt. Rosie had given it to her so she could protect herself, just in case. Most people knew you were close to several overlords but you could never be more careful, especially Y/n.
Y/n was repeating her 'safety protocol' in her head.
Stay away from the walls
stay away from the poles
stay away from the demons
Stay away from the fire
Look where you step
Hold th-
She walked into something and fall back on her but. Looking up was a demon she recognized... An overlord, he was in charge of the Doomsday district.
"WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?!!!" This situation seemed awfully familiar.
Y/n clenched her shirt. "I'm sorry sir, I didn't mean to."
"I DON'T CARE!!!"
The demon was menacingly towering over her. She crawled back and pulled herself up. Seeing as this wasn't going to be resolved with a pleasant conversation over tea, Y/n pulled out her knife. Her arms were shaking and the knife felt heavy in her hands.
"What do you think that toothpick is going to do?" He stepped forward and you stepped back. On and on until she hit the wall... OH no... she hit the wall...
Her elbow hit the random waterpipe on the side of the building and broke it. Water spewed out right into the overlord's face. The demon fell back. The water had landed on the street, causing a car to slip and running over the overlord and crashing into the wall. This in turn caused the satellite aerial to fall down and slightly bumped your back. The knife shot out of your hand right into overlord. The aerial send out a weird frequency.
"Spare me... Please..." The overlord gasped out.
Y/n was still shaken up. "What?... Uhm I don't plan on killing you." her voice sounded unsure, which the overlord took way different than you meant.
"Please!" He wailed. "I'm begging you... You can have all my souls, just please."
"I don't uhm..."
"PLEASE!!! TAKE THEM!!!"
"... Sure...??" She said very confused. "I'll take them." The two shook hands and immediately, Y/n could feel the pure power flowing through her veins. "Alright... Bye now?" As she stepped away a shadow covered the overlord. Before Y/n could look up a piano hit the demon, pushing the knife deeper in effectively killing him.
What the fuck just happened?
Everything was quiet. All eyes were on her, again... As always, only this time, she doubted she would be saved this time. She was prepared to be killed again... Only nobody did anything, no demons threatening to kill her, no stray bullets that got way to close to her head, not even another butterfly effect disaster... The demons around just stared.
One small demon with black eyes walked up to you... "What are you going to do to us?"
"What...?"
"What are you going to do to us?" He repeated. "You are the new overlord of the Doomsday district, you own our souls."
"I... I don't." She awkwardly grabbed at her sleeves. "I'm not an overlord."
"Yes, you are. You defeated the previous overlord of doom, took over his souls and territory, you became an overlord." Y/n stayed silent at this. "How about we talk in private?" He took her into a smaller building nearby, away from all prying eyes. "Let's start over. I'm Piper. You own my soul." The small demon introduced himself.
"Uhm... Y/n, and I'm no overlord. Overlords are like scary, like WHA!" She made grabby gestures with her hands. "And BOE! I'm anything but that."
Piper looked at her like she had just grown another head. "How about this? I'll keep your territory in control while you think this over a bit? And in turn, you'll keep me in high up in the social latter here."
Her mouth was dry. "... Deal..?" She was so confused.
From that day on Piper took care of the Doomsday district for her. Y/n never went to Rosie about this. She always wanted to keep her daughter safe and would be so mad to find out she got into trouble again... At least that's what Y/n convinced herself.
Even though Piper took care of most of the problems in the Doomsday district, word got around of the new overlord of disasters; a terrifying force of nature that shouldn't be reckoned with. So of course there were demons that wanted to challenge her. Every other day y/n needed to sneak out of Cannibal town to 'fight' these challengers. See 'fight' as in accidentally defeating them.
Y/n was filing her bag with a cloak and a mask she picked up to hide her identity when a knock came from her door.
"Y/n darling! It's me and Alastor." Rosie opened the door and summoned a table. "Please sit down, we want to talk to you."
She sat down in the Victorian style chair, but not before stumbling a bit.
"Little lamb, your mother is worried about you." Alastor broke the silence.
"Deary, you've been sneaking out a lot and staying away for longer and longer and when you come home you're exhausted-" Rosie took a deep breath "- what I'm trying to say is that you can talk to me if something's wrong... You know that right?" Her cheeks were droopy, a frown plastered on her porcelain face, it made Y/n's stomach turn.
"I'm fine, mom. There is no need to worry about me." She lied.
Alastor's eyebrows down, almost like he wanted to frown, but he still had that giant smile on his face. "Are you sure? If somebody is bothering you, we don't mind serving them for tonight's dinner. Hahaha." He joked, underneath, however, he was nervous. The Radio demon had grown quite fond of her and, knowing how clumsy she could be, he couldn't help but worry.
"No, one is bothering me... Thank you for offering though." At this point, Y/n had grown used to the cannibalistic tendencies of the people around her and so shrugged Alastor's joke off.
Rosie had a bad feeling about this. "Can you at least tell us where you've been sneaking of to?"
Shit
Y/n didn't have excuse for this. "J-just some friends... I.. I didn't want them to be scared off, so I didn't tell them about you. I'm sorry mom." Tears filled her eyes, she didn't want to lie to her. Rosie had done so much for her... She was planning on giving this whole being an overlord up anyway, there was no reason for Y/n to tell the truth now. It'll be like it never happened and then she can go back to her normal life with her mom.
Rosie stared into her cup. "Alright deary, but please make sure to be careful. Genuine friends are rare in hell."
"Thanks mom." Y/n stood up again and left the imperium, through the front door this time.
Alastor squinted his eyes, following your silhouette. Something was wrong, you were lying. He could feel it... But this was Rosie's responsibility, so he should leave it up to her. "She is lying."
"I know but if she isn't ready to talk about it, then I'll wait."
"On a different note, did you hear that the Doomsday district has a new overlord." Alastor took a sip from his 'Oh, Deer' mug. "They've been defeating demon after demon. I've been meaning to meet them for my radio show, would you like to come with me?"
Y/n was walking down the street to the Doomsday district. I should've just told Rosie the truth. She thought. But she had panicked and lied, only making it harder for herself.
Stepping into the same, small building where Piper first dragged her off too, Y/n put on her overlord disguise.
"You didn't break anything, right?" Piper asked, dressed in a brand-new suit. "I don't want to fix the sewerage again."
"It went fine!" She put up her thumb, before knocking over a chair that landed on a vase, breaking it in two thousant pieces. "Sorry."
Y/n and Piper walked around the district for a while, more so to let the demons know that the overlord of disaster was still around and that they were close with Piper. She caused chain reactions all around her, letting people know she got her title for a reason... Not her fault the denizens of hell took it the wrong way.
The two were rounding the corner when a familiar set came into view... What were Rosie and Alastor doing here? Y/n's panic only grew once she realised Alastar was trying to get her attention. Did they recognize her? What was happening?
As the two overlords came closer and closer, Y/n ducked into an alleyway and seemingly disappeared~
The dumpster wasn't Y/n's first choice of hiding place but it was the only one she had.
Piper was left alone on the burning streets with two dangerous overlords heading straight for him.
"Where did she go?" The woman, who Piper recognized to be the cannibal overlord, asked. "I swore she was just here."
"And what relation do you have with this new overlord, my incredibly short fellow." The second man Piper knew all too well. The terrifying Radio demon. "I was hoping to speak to her."
"Ah, I- I'm incredibly sorry... B-but the disaster overlord doesn't like dealing with overlord stuff, so she makes me represent." Piper sputtered.
"I see, but you see I want to speak to the REAL overlord. Not some pathetic representative." Dials appeared in Alastor's eyes and strange symbols started floating around. "GOT THAT."
"YES!"
"Lovely, then you can set up an audience for me. How does Friday sound?"
"Perfect, Friday at 5 p.m."
"Great, I can't wait to meet her." The two overlords went on their merry way again through the streets of Doomsday district.
Friday came around and nothing. Alastor had waited for twenty minutes, yet there was no sight of the disaster demon or her little pet. This was rich, never before was the overlord stood up like this. Who would dare to waste his time?! Alastor's stature as well as his antlers grew. That day there was a very horrifying broadcast and Y/n was at home with Rosie. She had to admit she almost peed her pants when Alastor openly threatened her on the radio broadcast...
There was no way she could come clean now. From that day on, you didn't show your overlord self once. Always letting Piper deal with everything.
That was until he came running to you, a letter in hand. It was an invitation to an overlord meeting, one she wouldn't be allowed to send Piper to. At first she didn't want to go, but Piper thought that would be a surefire way to piss off even more overlords. She had to go.
That's how she ended up, dressed in her cloak and mask, in front of an office building in Carmilla's circle of the pentagram. Stepping into the building the place was quiet, no one was around... Was this a trap? Y/n continued on the conference room, although more cautious. Room 666.
Everyone was already there. Were you supposed to come early?
"Disaster demon, glad you could join us." Carmilla spoke first. "We weren't sure you would show up anymore."
Y/n kind of shrugged trying her best to hide her voice.
"How rude, this new generation of overlords ought to know their place. Don't you think so Zestial?" Alastor commented half-jokingly.
"Yes, I must agree." The oldest overlord answered.
You wobbly sat down in your seat, but in doing so breaking the seat. A metal leg shot out to Vox, who protected himself. It ricocheted to the chandelier, which luckily kept hanging. Unluckily though, one of the more heavy ornaments fell down onto the table. It broke in two.
With each sound and broken item, Y/n hugged herself more and more until she resembled more of an hedgehog than a goat. She felt incredibly awkward, tears came out of her eyes. "I'm sorry."
"I'M SORRY!!!! YOU ALMOST BROKE MY SCREEN AND DESTROYED THE CONFERENCE ROOM AND ALL YOU HAVE TO SAY IS SORRY?!!!" Vox screamed, he was about to launch over the broken table but Alastor stopped him.
"Not a step closer my pal." Alastar's horns grew, showing that he was serious in protecting the newest overlord.
"There is only one demon in the entire universe who could create such a mess." Rosie spoke to herself. "Y/n is that you?" Rosie almost couldn't keep herself from smirking when she removed her mask.
"Yes... I-"
"Alright, everyone out this meeting is over!" Carmilla said. The demons left but only with some push. "Not you three."
They were all looking at you, Carmilla, Zestial, Alastor and Rosie, waiting for an explanation.
"Be- Before you get mad at me, this was an accident."
"I'm not mad about my conference room, now explain." Carmilla's eyes stayed focused on her, like lion waiting for its prey.
"I don't just mean the conference room, this was an accident." Y/n points to herself. "I didn't mean to become an overlord. It just kind of happened and I thought you would be mad at me and then I dug myself into a deeper hole, and now I'm here dressed like this embarrasing myself in front of everyone." The tears that had been slowly building up, started flowing.
"Oh deary." Rosie stood up and gave you a big hug. "I could never be mad at you. I just wish you would've told me. We can work this out together, besides this means you have the power to protect yourself. You don't know how worried I was if you would ever find yourself in a sticky situation alone."
"Thanks mom." Y/n hugged her back.
"If I may interrupted your lovely bonding time, but how exactly did you 'accidentally' defeat the previous overlord?" Alastor asked.
"Oh, I didn't defeat him." She explained. "He got runover by a car, then he decided to give me all his souls and a piano dropped on him."
"Excuse me?"
Masterlist/request guidlines
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Absolutely reeling.
So I knew that the origin of "Hector was a great man, moral, noble, better than all of the Greeks" began as Roman propaganda that somehow has made it to now, the year 2023, and is still taught to high school students.
What I did not know was why scholars shit on Achilles as vehemently as they did (and still do).
My copy of Fagles' translation of the Iliad has a preface by a different scholar who I'm not going to bother to name because he's an idiot (and idk probably dead at this point). I read the entire thing, absolutely baffled, because he would cite a part of the text (that I admittedly had not read yet! at all!), quote it, and then come to the most batshit interpretation based on that quote I had ever seen in my life. His general take was that Achilles was a sociopath who had no feelings for anyone other than himself and his own pride, and every action he took (until welcoming Priam into his hut) was done in service of that pride. To support this, he decided that Achilles did not see Patroclus as a person, but rather as an extension of himself, and thus someone injuring Patroclus was them injuring Achilles, and so he did not care about Patroclus, he only cared about his wounded pride.
Yeah.
That sounded wrong before reading the book, and while reading the book all i could think was, "Did we read the same fucking thing???" Put in context, those quotations still did not support his conclusions whatsoever.
But i cracked open Caroline Alexander's "The War That Killed Achilles" last night, and she solves this mystery of "Hector good, Achilles bad" for me right out the gate (which is good because so far I've only read the preface).
Western Europeans by and large learned about the Trojan war from Roman stories, which became fairly popular, and not the Iliad, which was not translated into French or English until centuries later. As mentioned, these were propaganda that cast the Trojans in a much better light than the Greeks because the Romans believed they were descended from Trojan refugees. This starts a trend that is still going on in scholarly circles as casting the Iliad as a war between "barbaric Greeks living in a shitty, lawless camp" vs "civilized, educated, weaving, real-wife-having Trojans," making the Iliad a tragedy in which Homer for some reason skewers his own people and their warlike culture as barbaric while propping up a dead, foreign city-state. This interpretation is still extant and was the postscript to another copy of the Iliad I have.
According to Alexander, scholars closer to Homer's time saw the entire war as a tragedy--both the destruction of Troy AND the destruction of the Greek army. While this is not covered in the Iliad, very few Greeks actually made it home after Troy. Some that did were then outcast (Teucer for example), some were murdered (bye, Agamemnon), some went on to create new kingdoms in other places (Diomedes), but by and large, there was no going home from that war. There was no great victory with all their loot. The entire thing was a disaster for both sides, spurred on by fickle gods.
Back to the more recent European interpretations of this story, one reason Hector ended up cast in such a "good" light, despite being a dumbass who wants to dishonor dead people just as badly as Achilles ever did, was in order to make Achilles look worse. Why was it important that Achilles becomes a villain in this story in which he is very much not a villain? Because Europeans were involved in so much war with each other and the rest of the world that a young, insubordinate man who criticizes his idiot of a commander, decides his life isn't worth throwing away for this war, and refuses to fight to sack a city was an affront to their values. Young men were to be obedient, follow their commanding officers, and colonize the world for queen and country. Achilles suggesting losing his life is not worth it to prop up Agamemnon's war is a dangerous precedent for all the good little soldiers needed to make their nations wealthy.
It's almost funny that these analyses propping up Troy as a beacon of civilization were made by people living in countries so bent on colonizing the world. They identified with the city being sacked and not the greedy sackers of said city, who they were much closer to. And Achilles, educated, morally rigid, emotional Achilles, is recast as a sociopathic asshole who doesn't care about anyone other than himself, unlike all of those other beacons of selflessness among the Greek leadership.
The tragedy of the Iliad is that Achilles is right, the war is pointless, Agamemnon did dishonor the shit out of him, and it doesn't matter because he's going to die in it anyway.
Frankly, given how badly his character has been interpreted for so long, I think the muses owe him an apology.
#the iliad#achilles#I have only read the preface of this book#hope yall like essays#writing essays at 6am and hoping they are grammatical#haven't even had my coffee yet my head is too full of achilles#also a hefty chunk of it was FRENCH propaganda like come ON
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Yj takes to mocking their mentors behavior after being lectured for being irresponsible and the public’s perception of YJ
Bart is going on about science that no one would understand even if he wasn’t talking at Mach 3 and popping out of no where going ‘flash fact-’ or starting a fight with a villain while eating an entire large pizza
Tim’s whaling on some fucking rogue and dude is 🤏🏾 close to being unconscious and tim goes “😡 now talk” (it doesn’t make it better that the rest of yj is in hysterics)
Anita mimicks the powers of whichever magic user she’s seen or heard most recently unless she gets bored and decides to act out horror movies which just leads to a villain cutting the power but they realize Anita showed up and they’re frantically trying to turn the power back on bc everyone thinks she’s actually possessed
Kon goes full on ‘Fear not, citizen! For I have arrived, a lone kryptonian with naught but justice in his heart’ along with saving one specific reporter first in every disaster (it’s linda and she thinks this is hilarious) he does hero landings and he says all the cheesy hero lines just bc he knows sometimes the medias perception of Clark annoys him (there’s a clip of a fan confessing and Kon goes on about how his only love is justice)
Greta before retirement is saying the lanterns oath before every attack and clowning Tim any chance she gets but Greta after retirement occasionally does crowd control which is just Greta doing finger guns and saying shit like totally tubular and gnarly while leading civilians away from danger or going on long winded rants about planes
Cissie is telling every person she saves that’s at least five years younger than her that she’s adopting them and then paying off some random debt and never speaking to them again or flirting with whichever member of yj is closest/has already taken down their opponent this doesn’t change much when Cissie retires, she just starts filing paperwork to adopt whoever gets second place and she will tell everyone that she’s married to the yj member on the news no matter where she is or what she’s doing
Cassie has a battle axe, a shield, and a lasso and somehow manages to use all three every fight while mimicking Diana’s speech patterns and demolishing anyone that gets a hit on yj (the only thing ww takes offense to is Cassie’s over the top feigned ineptness when it came to technology ‘Suffering Sappho! What is this strange contraption?!’ ‘🤨 my fucking phone??’)
#Bart has definitely said ‘flash fact: you just got your ass kicked’ I don’t know when or why but it definitely happened#Anita’s going full on exorcist like the second coming of the antichrist scary popping out of nowhere and more unnecessary shit#Anita 🤝🏾 Tim: being the reason villains stopped cutting the power as a fear tactic#Diana: but I’m not old??#Cassie: your age has more zeros than Batman’s bank account rn#young just us#young justice#Yj98#bart allen#dc impulse#cassie sandsmark#wondergirl#kon el superboy#tim drake#dc red robin#greta hayes#dc secret#anita fite#dc empress#gnc!cassie sandsmark#cissie king jones#dc arrowette
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silent carnival | ln4, op81
i will just leave this here without any particular comment. im glad that the las vegas is over and im even more glad that lando is okay. anyway, please enjoy it as always!
summary: lando crashed and went to the hospital, y/n and oscar coming to the rescue
warnings: nothing i think
pairing: lando norris x fem!mclarendriver x oscar piastri
The prevailing silence in the car was almost deafening, even the radio didn't dare to hum songs. The only audible sound was the quiet engine working at full throttle, ready to reach the destination as quickly as possible.
Y/N and Oscar sat next to each other in the back seat, gazing at the night landscapes illuminated by fiercely glowing neon lights. Neither of them was in the mood for conversation. The atmosphere was truly worse than gloomy.
Las Vegas was way much more than intense. The city pulsated with nightlife, decidedly more than any other place where Formula 1 had the pleasure to visit. That's why the silence that surrounded the McLaren drivers was quite shocking. However, this silence was entirely justified. It emerged when the orange car with number four on it submerged in sparks and concluded its disastrous ride in the barriers. Right then, all of Las Vegas froze; right then, the entire McLaren garage held its breath.
When the taxi parked at the hospital driveway, the pair quickly stepped outside and headed towards the entrance. After talking to the woman in the reception point and facing temporary difficulties finding the right room, they humbly sat on chairs in front of it. They had to wait until the tests were completed and the doctors left the room, allowing them to come in.
Seeing Y/N nervous, Oscar wordlessly embraced her, providing comfort. She closed her eyes and leaned on his shoulder, knowing well that she wouldn't calm down until she saw Lando with her own eyes.
After some time, when two doctors and a nurse left, the couple entered the room. Lando was genuinely surprised to see his friends, but he smiled seeing them.
The girl quickly approached the bed, ready to hug him, but she hesitated and lowered her outstretched arms, not wanting to cause him unnecessary pain. However, Lando pulled himself up a bit, reaching out to her and allowing the embrace. Oscar exchanged a reassuring look with his friend, smiling at him encouragingly. He sat on the bed and also hugged Lando, soothingly patting his back.
"You gave us quite a scare," Y/N murmured, still holding him tightly.
"It looked worse than the actual outcome it brought," he replied.
After some time, she pulled away and sat beside him, scrutinizing him carefully. Fortunately, there were no signs of serious injuries, just a few bruises and bumps.
"Thank goodness you're okay," Oscar said, glancing at him. However, Lando didn't seem overly comforted.
"Maybe I'm fine, but I completely fucked the car. I'd rather something happened to me than—" "Don't even say that," Y/N quickly interrupted him, scolding him with her gaze.
"Our cars have been total crap for a few races now, so I think you did a favor to the factory people," Oscar remarked with a reassuring smile, lifting Lando's spirits a bit, although he still shook his head.
"Total massacre. At least you fought for our honor," Norris said, looking at the aussie.
"Fought is an understatement. Oscar was ready to throw hands," the girl laughed at his comment.
"Maybe it's for the best, considering how much of a disaster the track was. And you just crashed and hopped into the warm and comfy ambulance without giving a fuck—lots of space, delicious, perfectly chilled water, phew," Piastri joked, maintaining a serious demeanor.
Lando chuckled, nodding in agreement. "I'm glad this race is behind us," Norris admitted with a sigh, wincing as he adjusted himself on the bed. "It's just a shame about the outcome."
"It doesn't matter," Y/N said, resting her head on his shoulder. "The most important thing is that you're okay."
"Since I'm fine, you shouldn't waste time here," Lando said, looking at his friends. "This is our last night in Vegas; I'd go for a wild party if I were you."
"Oh c'mon, fuck Vegas," Oscar cut in, shaking his head.
"I can't wait to leave this place," Y/N admitted, taking out her phone "I'll order us some champagne, what do you think? We need to toast to this cursed city."
"I'm a hundred percent in," Oscar nodded.
"I hope no one will be mad at us for a little party here," Y/N said, dialing a number.
"It's an open party, the McLaren house is open to everyone," Oscar added.
And as they said, so they did. Shortly after, three bottles of champagne appeared in the hospital room and each of the trio could swear that the shared evening was better than any party.
At some point, Lando stopped thinking about the past race and the unfortunate crash. His thoughts departed from that incident; he didn't even feel the pain of his bruised body as he held a perfectly chilled bottle of champagne in his hand. He couldn't also contain his smile as his friends danced in the middle of the hospital room, singing a song in his honor. At that moment, Lando was genuinely happy and understood that to feel this way, all he needed was the company of these two, who would do anything for him.
#f1 imagines#f1 one shot#formula 1#op81#ln4#f1#lando norris#oscar piastri x reader#lando norris x reader#lando norris x reader x oscar piastri
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(they all say that) it gets better | luke castellan
bleedin' me dry for context (this is that reader's origin story!!)
summary: a look into your unclaimed year.
a/n: does it still count as fluff if you already know it doesn’t end well? idk but i’m having fun writing for this pair so it’s okay. i hope you guys are enjoying reading them!! this ended up becoming a hell of a lot longer than i thought it would be but these kind of one shots are my faves to write lol
title from teenage dream by olivia rodrigo bc apparently guts teenage angst works very well for a demigod who feels like they're worthless and unwanted for a good period of time!! shoutout to the gods
wc: 11.4k JESUS
warning(s): fem!child of demeter reader. typical anger at the gods, but luke is actually pretty sweet! crazy. mostly hurt/comfort, reader is going through it at the beginning (mentions of injuries and almost dying), honestly she's going through it the whole time but luke is very nice to her lol. barely proofread bc proofing 34 pages is a nightmare !!
It was your first day as a demigod and you were already off to a bad start.
You didn’t remember much, obviously. There was a lot of stumbling, barely held up by your satyr as you crossed the border, and then full on collapsing. Somehow you managed to stay conscious all the way to the infirmary, enough to hear shocked murmurs from the people-like blobs around you and terrified, whispered affirmations from your satyr as he ran along with whoever was carrying you.
You didn’t remember much. But you do remember thinking what a shameful existence it would be to die at fourteen.
And now you were sitting in an uncomfortable cot, staring at the wall and counting divots. The first half of your visit was only there in flashes as you drifted in and out of consciousness, but now, unfortunately, you were fully awake. You belatedly wondered how many other kids began their camp life with a stay at the infirmary.
The thought was dashed from your head as you jolted and cried out in sudden pain, and you shot daggers with your glare at the boy next to you.
“Sorry.” The boy fixing you up was about your age, and he almost seemed to glow from within. “You dislocated your shoulder—I was popping it back into place.”
“You could have warned me,” you seethed.
“I did,” he said, and when he placed his hands on your shoulder they actually did glow. “You just weren’t listening.”
“...Sorry,” you said after a moment. “I’m having a rough day.”
He shook his head with a slight smile. “It’s expected.”
“It’ll be okay,” your satyr said, and some of the tension left your shoulders as you looked over at Tate. He’d been by your side for the past two weeks of disasters, and you’d saved each other’s lives more times than you could count. You were just thankful he didn’t have to watch you die. “Jace is one of camp’s best healers. You’re in good hands.”
You nodded, not wanting to cause any more problems, so you bit your lip and bit your tongue and let him heal the rest of your injuries in silence. He was done soon enough, and you could feel both their eyes on you as you rifled through your backpack. Thankfully, Tate brought it in as you were dying. Your own blood stained the nylon.
“How do you feel?” Tate asked anxiously.
“Better,” you said, tearing your eyes away from it as you continued making sure all your belongings were still there. “A lot better. Not like there’s much competition.”
Tate chuckled, and Jace picked up a small bag from the bedside table and handed it to you—it looked like there were little pieces of fudge inside. “Here.”
“What’s this?” you asked as you took it.
“Ambrosia,” he said. “Wait a few hours before you have a piece, and only have a little if you feel a lot of pain. I already gave you nectar while you were out, and the last thing we need is you burning up.”
You looked at Tate with raised eyebrows and he smiled a bit. “Ambrosia and nectar are the food of the gods. It heals demigods in small portions, but take too much and you’ll get a fever. Worst case scenario, you’ll literally burn up from the inside.”
“Oh,” you said, and you stuffed the bag into your pack before zipping it up. “I’ll… I’ll wait.”
“Probably a good idea,” Jace said, and he looked over at your satyr as he stood up. “I’ve gotta get back to my sword-fighting lessons. Can you give her a tour?”
He shook his head. “I have to debrief with Chiron and Mr. D. There were some… rough things on the road.” Tate looked at you. “I’ll be back in thirty minutes— are you sure you’ll be okay?”
“It’s fine,” you said with a smile. “Do your thing. I’ll look around some, then we’ll find each other later.”
Tate nodded thankfully and went through an open door opposite your bed, and Jace gave you a tight smile as he started to put away all the medical supplies he used on you. You sighed, slung your bag over your shoulder, and walked out.
You shut the door behind you and blinked rapidly as you tried to adjust to the sunlight. Then, you heard someone sigh.
“Thank the gods you’re okay.”
You turned to see a boy standing up from the wall. Dark curls hung just above his eyes, a contrast to his tanned skin, slightly red from exertion. He was wearing the same bright orange shirt that your healer was—Camp Halfblood, it said in curved text. He was far too pretty for his own good.
“I’m the one who carried you in,” he said, and you realized you were frowning. “Wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“Oh,” you said. “That’s… that’s nice of you.”
“It’s been a while since we’ve gotten someone new,” he said. “Even longer since they’ve had such a dramatic entrance.”
You shrugged. You didn’t exactly know what to say to this boy. “Sorry.”
He paused for a moment, and then he nodded. “Not one for conversation. That’s fine.”
“I did almost just die,” you said wryly. “I’m fresh out of icebreakers at the moment.”
“Maybe I can help with that.” He held out his hand. “Luke Castellan. Head Counselor of the Hermes cabin, and apparent rescuer of damsels.”
You huffed a laugh as you stared at him. “I’m a damsel?”
“I’d say you were in as much distress as someone could be back there,” he said with a shrug. “I practically saved your life. I think that deserves a handshake.”
The slightest bit of tension dissolved from your shoulders and you shook his hand. His smile grew.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, dropping his hand. “You were pretty rough when I found you.”
“Better,” you said, though you grimaced a bit as you tested your shoulder, and you decided to switch your pack to your other side. “Whoever that guy in the infirmary is, he’s good.”
Luke nodded. “Son of Apollo—they’ve got healing abilities. Very useful when we’re all constantly getting injured.”
Your brows knit together. “So it really is all real.”
“You were nearly dead on our doorstep, and from those claw marks I’m guessing it wasn’t just a bad fall.” Luke offered a wry smile. “I’m sure you’ve known it’s all real for a while.”
“Of course,” you said. “It’s just weird to really know that it’s all real. To see all of you, really. Just knowing I’m not alone.”
He nodded. “That’s the best thing about it, knowing you’re not alone.” He looked around at your surroundings—various campers chatting as they walked with each other (some glancing at you as they went by), distant shouts and cheers, and a perfectly blue sky matching the perfectly blue house you just left.
“I’d say the worst thing about it is feeling like I still have no idea what’s going on,” you said. “Unless the gods exist just to be deadbeats. That’d be disappointing.”
Luke actually laughed at that, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and you found yourself smiling a bit. “I can tell we’re gonna get along.”
Your own smile returned—it was like his joy was infectious. “You think so?”
“I know so,” he nodded. “Just… try not to throw the gods’ names around like that. They don’t like to be talked about unless they’re being revered.”
You huffed. “Sounds like an interesting place.”
“Camp Halfblood,” he provided, and he gestured around you with his hand. “Keeping young heroes safe for over three millennia.”
“What,” you said wryly, “are you their PR guy?”
Luke laughed and shook his head. “It’s something Chiron likes to say.”
“You’re the second person to mention Chiron,” you said. “Who exactly is he?”
“You haven’t gotten a tour yet?”
You gave him a look. “Come on. You carried me in. You think I could have gotten a tour between then and now?”
“Fair,” he admitted, and he tilted his head. “I can give you one, if you’re so inclined.”
“I said I would wait for Tate,” you said. “He’s my satyr— I figure I owe it to him.”
“C’mon,” Luke said. “He’s meeting Chiron and Mr. D—that’ll take long enough on its own, and if we don’t get out of here soon enough, you’re gonna get dragged into a whole other conversation with them. At least this way, you can get a little bit of downtime before all the lore of this place is dropped on you.”
You bit your lip, and then you sighed and nodded. “Fine. But it can’t take too long.”
Luke smiled and held up three fingers. “Halfblood’s honor.”
-
You didn’t know where to start.
There were far more people than you expected, not nearly enough beds for all of them, and half were talking and a quarter were fighting and the others were just completely unfazed. All you could do when you walked in was stare.
“You get used to it,” Luke said, glancing over at you. “Everyone’s nice, I promise—just keep a hand on your pockets.”
You frowned. “Why?”
He gave you a crooked smile. “Hermes is the god of thieves. We learn by experience in this cabin.”
Your hands instinctively reached back to the pockets of your jeans, despite the fact that you hardly had anything to your name. “Why do they put the new, naive kids in here again?”
“God of travellers, too—all are welcome.” Luke saw your hand shoot to your pocket and laughed. “Don’t worry. I won’t let anyone mess with you too much—for now, at least.”
“Oh, good,” you said lightly. “The hazing doesn’t start until later.”
Luke smiled as he continued to guide you through the cabin, nodding to and greeting campers with equal parts names and handshakes as he walked past them. You got just as many stares as Luke did hellos, and your skin crawled at the attention.
“Why are they all looking at me?” you whispered to him.
“Like I said, you’re the first new camper in a while.” Luke glanced at you. “News spreads fast, especially in this wreck of a place.”
“It’s not that bad,” you said , but your grip tightened on your backpack strap. “Just very busy.”
“That’s what happens when they shove everyone in here,” Luke said. “All are welcome means all are welcome—Hermes kids, unclaimed kids, and kids of minor gods.”
You frowned. “Minor gods don’t have cabins?”
“This place is as much for us as it is in honor of the gods,” he said. “Twelve cabins for twelve Olympians. They don’t see it as a problem, therefore we can’t see it as a problem.”
You decided to bite your tongue, but you couldn’t hide your sigh. “I guess I’m gonna be here for the time being.”
He looked you up and down, and all you could think was that you must look like an absolute disaster. “I’m guessing you fall into the unclaimed.”
Your lips pressed into a thin line, a sad attempt at a smile. “Yeah, but I just got here—I bet my mom doesn’t even know it yet. Gods are busy.”
“They’re also omniscient,” Luke said wryly. “I’m sure she could have claimed you the second you crossed the border. Your parent could’ve given you a little divine intervention and kept you from nearly dying on the hill.”
“Well, I’m here for now,” you said with a bit too much force, and your nails dug into your palms. “So do you mind showing me around?”
Luke stared at you for a moment before he smiled. “‘Course not. I can also give you a quick tour of camp too, if you haven’t already gotten one.”
You shook your head. “Only the infirmary.”
“If it makes you feel any better,” he said, “you heal up well.”
“I don’t think that’s a credit to me,” you said. “I think it’s whatever magical drink that healer gave me while he was trying to bring me back. Tasted like pecan pie.”
“Nectar,” he said as he started walking, and you followed behind him. “Drink of the gods that heals demigods in small portions. It tastes like your favorite food—same as ambrosia.” He stopped in an empty corner and looked at you. “You like pecans?”
You shrugged, suddenly self conscious. “My dad makes it the best.”
“I hope you’ll be able to get the real thing soon,” he said, and then he gestured with a flourish at the same empty corner. “Welcome to your new home.”
You stared at him. “This is the floor.”
“We’re a little overbooked,” Luke said sheepishly. “If it makes you feel better, we’ve got sleeping bags. And this is a top tier corner. Quieter than the others.”
“…Great,” you said. “I feel very welcome.”
“I’m sorry.” To his credit, he sounded like he meant it. “Bunch of unclaimed kids, couple kids of minor gods, couple Hermes kids—it all kinda adds up to a mess.”
“...It’ll be better than camping,” you said, though mostly to yourself as you took your bag off your shoulder and let it thud to the ground.
“Hey,” Luke said, and his voice was softer, “it’ll be okay. With any luck, your parent’ll notice you now that you’re at camp, and you’ll be claimed before you know it.”
“I hope so,” you murmured.
“Luke, who’s the new girl?”
A boy with curls just as good as Luke’s walked up and clapped him on the back, smiling at you in a way that instantly set you at ease. He also wore the orange camp shirt, with long tan sleeves below that he’d pushed up to his forearms. He had kind eyes.
Luke said your name, his own smirk on his lips as he looked back at you. “You’ve probably heard about her dramatic entrance by now, but she’s the newest resident of the Hermes cabin.”
“Unclaimed or your sibling?” he asked.
“...Unclaimed,” you said yourself. You hadn’t even been here for more than two hours and it already felt like your own brand of shame.
He repeated your name with a nod and held out his hand. “I’m Chris,” he said. “Fellow unclaimed kid.”
A little bit less of a scarlet letter, at least. You swallowed your budding insecurity and shook his hand. “Sounds like a shitty club to be in.”
He snorted. “You’re telling me.”
“How— how long has it been?” you asked hesitantly, almost afraid to know the answer.
His lips pressed into a tight smile. “Couple years.”
“Gods,” you murmured. You didn’t know if you’d be able to wait that long. It had been hard enough already growing up without one—if your mother was just out of reach after all this time, you would surely lose your mind.
“Don’t worry,” Chris said, his expression softening a bit. “It won’t take that long for you. I can tell.”
“That’s what Luke said,” you responded wryly. “Do I give off a vibe that says ‘I’m unwanted, but not for too long’?”
Luke laughed and shook his head. “I promise, it’s all gonna be okay. I’ve been the counselor here for a couple months—kids get claimed all the time. I bet you’re next on the list.”
“Maybe,” you said. You didn’t believe it as much as they did—if they did at all.
You heard the door open and your head automatically turned to the noise, and you felt the heat rush to your cheeks in embarrassment as Tate came through, slightly out of breath. You stared at Luke—he said thirty minutes at least. He just shrugged.
“I figured you would be here,” Tate said, his chest rising and falling just so as he walked—trotted?—inside. “You didn’t exactly wait.”
You opened your mouth to speak up, but Luke beat you, already putting on a charming smile. “Sorry. We got to talking, and then I offered to show her around the Hermes cabin. Just so she could put her things down, y’know.”
“‘Course,” Tate nodded. “That— that was probably a good idea. Would have been bad if you got lost or something.”
“I’m sorry,” you said, and you went to pick your bag up. “Luke said you would be talking for a lot longer— I was going to come back after I was done with this.”
Tate shook his head. That nervous energy from the worst parts of the road was back, and you wondered how badly the talk with Chiron and Mr. D went. “No, it was a good idea. Better than you getting lost around camp or caught up with some troublemakers. Thanks, Luke.”
“‘Course,” he said.
“Not sure she’s in much better hands with Luke,” Chris said wryly. “He’s head troublemaker in the cabin of troublemakers.”
Luke just chuckled and shook his head. “It’s her first day. I wouldn’t let anything happen to her.”
You were only able to glance at Luke for a moment before your attention was drawn back to Tate as he gestured outside with his head. “Chiron’s waiting outside. He wants to talk to you some before the tour.”
And now you had to deal with it too. “...Great,” you said. You set your bag back on the ground, in your newly coveted corner.
“It’ll be fine,” Tate promised. “You already went through Hades to get here— he’s not gonna pile on you more. That’s why Mr. D is back at the Big House.”
This time, you did look at Luke. Thankfully, he understood.
“Dionysus,” he explained. “He’s our camp director.”
You blinked. “The god?”
“Yep,” he nodded. “Punishment from Zeus. Not the worst gig, but he’s… interesting.”
“Great,” you repeated, because you didn’t feel like processing that at the moment, and you looked back at Tate. “You’ll be with me, right?”
He nodded. “Not for the talk, but for the tour.”
You let out a loose breath, because it was going to be fine. He was just the authority figure of the one safe place in the world for you, and you were just an annoying kid that had no idea what the hell was going on.
“Great,” you said for the third time. You looked back at Luke. “I’ll see you around?”
He smiled and bowed his head. “Definitely. You do kinda live here indefinitely now.”
You nodded, more relieved than you wanted to show, and you started following Tate out.
You heard Chris mutter something to Luke, and you turned your head in time to see Luke jab him in the side. His head perked up when you laughed, and his whole expression changed as his smile returned and he did a little wave.
You couldn’t help but smile back as you did the same, and you left the cabin with a little pep in your step.
—
“You promise you’ll be safe.”
“Yes, Tate,” you said with a slight laugh. “The worst is already over—you got me here, and we’re both alive. I’m gonna be fine.”
“I know,” he said, and he managed his own smile. “I’m just worried about you. You don’t spend two weeks on the road fighting for your life with someone and not get a little attached.”
“You’ll be back here, right?” you asked. “I know your whole thing as a Protector, but you’ve gotta drop the demigods off too, right?”
“Of course I’ll be back,” he promised. “It… just might be a while. You’re the third demigod I’ve gotten to camp safely, now—Chiron’s trusting me with a bigger mission. It might be a couple months, but I’ll be back.”
“And you’re telling me to be safe,” you said wryly.
“I’ve been doing this for a while,” he said. “You just got here.”
“I know,” you said, and you pulled him into a hug. “Just don’t get killed out there.”
Tate laughed and patted you on the back before he pulled away. “So long as you don’t killed out here.”
“Thanks for everything,” you said with a nod.
“Thank you,” he said, and he gestured at the pavilion with his head. “Now get over there and make some friends. I’ll see you around.”
You hugged him one last time before you reluctantly went off, and you looked back to wave him goodbye before you really started on your way.
Your head still spun with all the information Chiron and Tate had imparted on you—so much about Greek mythology (and how it was all real), ADHD and dyslexia (and how they weren’t just there to make your life harder), your godly parent (who would hopefully claim you within the month) and so much more that you knew you would forget in an hour or two.
And Chiron’s talk. God, it felt more like you were in the principal’s office than anything, even though he was nothing but kind. You couldn’t help but be overwhelmed from it all, and though the talk was probably meant to stave some of that anxiety off, it really didn’t.
But you’d always felt out of place all your life. And now you were finally where you were meant to belong—that had to count for something.
Tate had dropped you off at the pavilion—nearly dying had taken a lot out of you, and it just happened to be lunch—and just as you neared the tables and realized you had no idea where to sit, your eyes were drawn to a boy raising his hand and calling your name.
You looked over and saw that it was Luke, the counselor from earlier, and you couldn’t help but smile. True to his word.
You weaved your way through various campers and around tables full of kids to finally stop next to Luke’s table—Chris, the guy from earlier, sat across from him, and they both smiled at you.
“How’d the tour go?” he asked.
“Fine,” you said with a nod. “A little overwhelming, but better than I thought.” You pulled at your new camp shirt, the fabric noticeably brighter than a majority of those around you. “I match now, at least.”
“Orange suits you,” Luke remarked, and he patted the open spot next to him. “Sit down—stay for a while.”
You chuckled as you sat down. You still felt out of place, but at least they weren’t going to hang you out to dry. “Bright orange seems like an odd choice when we’re trying to stay hidden.”
“Probably so Chiron doesn’t lose us,” he joked. “This place is huge, and there’s a lot of us. When the newest camper gets turned around in the woods during capture the flag and nearly dies to a monster, it’s easier to find them.”
You frowned, and you must’ve not been very good at hiding your panic because Chris shook his head.
“Luke, you’re scaring her. She’s already been through enough.”
“Don’t worry,” Luke said, patting you on the shoulder. “Just a little halfblood humor. You’re gonna be fine, I promise.”
“It doesn’t feel that way,” you said wryly. “It feels like I nearly died four hours ago and now I have no idea who anyone is or what to do.”
“Not true,” Chris spoke up, and he smiled. “You know us.”
“I’ll look out for you,” Luke promised. “And pretty soon, you’re gonna be good enough to look out for me.”
You let out a long lasting sigh. “God, I hope so.”
—
“You’re not holding it right.”
You adjusted your hold on the hilt, resisting the urge to wipe away the bead of sweat dripping down your forehead and the even stronger urge to hit him.
“You’re still not holding it right.”
Your teeth grinded together as you turned to look at Luke. “Are you gonna actually help me, or just stand there judgmentally?”
“I dunno,” he said. “The weather’s pretty good over here.”
You groaned and moved your non-dominant hand closer to the pommel, shifting your other down as well. “Is this worthy of your approval, Your Majesty?”
Luke chuckled as he walked over to you, and you could feel the calluses on his hands as he adjusted your form with slight touches to your arms. “It is acceptable, my lady, but your posture is not.”
“I don’t know how so many people at this camp like you,” you grumbled. “This is awful, and so are you.”
He smiled. “You’ve been here for two weeks. Give yourself some grace.”
“I’ve spent one of those trying and failing at the most basic basics of sword-fighting,” you said. “I spent the past hour losing to an Ares kid who I’m pretty sure actually wanted to kill me.” You looked over at Luke. “Thanks for that, by the way.”
“Trial by fire,” he supplied. “You’re still alive, so obviously you’re doing something right.”
“Yeah, probably because you’re here,” you said. “You can’t just kill someone when their counselor’s standing right next to them. It’s bad publicity.”
Luke huffed a laugh and shook his head as he crossed his arms. “Stop talking down on yourself. You managed to make it here with a couple monster attacks on the way—what’d you use then?”
“I started off with a screwdriver I stole from the garage before Tate and I left,” you said. “And then I stole a hunting knife from some outdoor store. Not exactly top-tier.”
“Lotta stealing,” Luke chuckled. “Maybe you are a Hermes kid.”
“They nearly caught me,” you said. “Definitely not.”
“Regardless of thievery, you still survived,” he continued. “You’re not a bonafide swordsman, that’s fine. But you’re resourceful, creative—scrappy in a fight is just what we need sometimes.”
“Great,” you mumbled. “I’m ‘scrappy’.”
“It’s a compliment,” he promised. “If we were all sword-fighters, we wouldn’t get far. Someone like you is gonna do us a lot of good.”
“If I don’t die before I even get out to the battlefield.” You knocked the helmet off of one of the straw dummies with your sword and sighed as it clattered to the ground. “This is the only enemy I stand a chance against.”
“You’re thinking too much about it all,” Luke said. “You’re literally wired for battle—didn’t you feel it during your fights on the way to camp?”
You shrugged. You guess you did—you remember not even taking the time to analyze the situation, just knowing your lives were in danger and finally feeling the ever-present jitters in your bones settle for the first time.
“It was rough,” you finally said. “But… it did feel like I knew what I was doing. Like my body understood it all even when my mind was still a couple steps behind.”
“And that was without training, and with,” Luke huffed an incredulous laugh, “a screwdriver. Just imagine what you’ll be able to do with actual Celestial bronze and actual training.”
“…I think I remember why people like you,” you said reluctantly. “And why I liked you.”
Luke grinned as he stood up. “That’s the spirit.” He picked up the fallen helmet and placed it back on the dummy, then looked at you. “I think I’ve put you through enough suffering. Let’s get lunch.”
“So a compliment was all it took for me to get out of this?” you asked in exasperation, gesturing with your sword as you worked to undo the ties on your armor with your other hand.
“Exactly,” he mused, and he took the sword from you to store it away. “I don’t get nearly enough compliments these days, y’know. Sometimes you end up taking that out on campers that don’t know how to swordfight.”
“Luke Castellan,” you grumbled as you finally got your breastplate off, “you are a piece of work.”
He winked. “Thank you.”
—
You didn’t think you were built for this life.
It was the only thought running through your head as you sat at a crowded Hermes table, absentmindedly picking at fruit with your fork as you stared off into the distance.
You’d been at Camp Halfblood for a month now, but it had already felt like a lifetime.
You’d managed to make a few friends—a Demeter girl who grew you a bouquet of your favorite flowers as a consolation prize for fighting dirty during training; an Athena boy who told you whatever interesting fact popped into his head first every time you ran into each other; the Hebe girl who had the misfortune to have the corner opposite you in the Hermes cabin and showed you skincare tips once in a while.
Throw in a smattering of Hermes and unclaimed kids and a counselor that seemed determined to make you smile, and you weren’t as lonely as you thought you’d be.
You were learning how to fight in your own way. Luke was right—you weren’t a swordsman, but you were damn good up close and personal. He’d taken you to the camp armory, you found a Celestial bronze dagger that spoke to you, and from then on you’d actually been doing well in training.
Your corner of the Hermes cabin didn’t feel as sad anymore, either. Luke took you to the camp store for retail therapy after you nearly burned your jeans off on the climbing wall, so now you had an AC/DC poster (courtesy of the little money you had) and an I ❤️ NY keychain to attach to your backpack (courtesy of Luke’s idle hands).
You were starting to come into your own, sure. You were doing better in training and making friends in the cabin you were stuck in and starting to get used to burning part of every meal, but the most glaring issue of all still hadn’t been resolved.
You still hadn’t been claimed.
And maybe it shouldn’t have been such an issue for you, but how could you not feel shitty? How could you see all the different tables and all the different kids talking and smiling and joking with each other that had parents who cared enough to at least claim them, and not feel unworthy?
Because you did. You felt unworthy, and it didn’t matter how many times you took your sparring partner down or bested the climbing wall or actually hit the bullseye at archery practice—your mother didn’t think you were good enough, so neither did you.
“How’re you doin’, Berkeley?”
You frowned. You didn’t have to look up to know it was Luke as he sat down next to you. “What?”
“Did you not hear me?” he asked, but you were already shaking your head.
“Berkeley,” you repeated, finally glancing at him. “That’s not my name.”
Luke shrugged. “I dunno what to tell you. You’re unclaimed. UC. University of California—first one I think of for you is Berkeley.”
You were staring now. “You can’t be serious.”
“Oh, I’ve got tons of UCs. I’ve gotta keep track of them all somehow,” Luke said, and he pointed at campers both at your table and walking around as he talked. “That’s LA, Irvine, Davis—the others aren’t here, but you get the gist.” He looked back at you. “Been savin’ Berkeley for someone special.”
“Oh gods,” you said, horrified. “I’ve got to get claimed.”
One of the girls at the table—Irvine?—rolled her eyes as she stood up and flicked Luke on the head. “Be nice,” she said before walking away. All he did was smile.
“Maybe give it to someone else,” you said. “I don’t feel special.”
Luke’s brows creased. “If you don’t like it—”
“It’s fine,” you said. “The name doesn’t bother me. The reason I have it does.”
His eyes softened as he said your actual name. “It’s only been a month. You’ve still got plenty of time.”
You looked across at the Hebe girl you’d become friends with—Marisol, if you remembered right—and hoped that your eyes didn’t show the desperation you felt. “How long did it take for you?”
She offered a sympathetic smile. “Six months. But it probably won’t be that long for you.”
“That’s what everyone keeps saying,” you mumbled. But it had been a month, and you hadn’t gotten a single sign.
“Because it’s true,” Luke urged. “Whoever your mom is will notice you—you’ve been killing it lately.”
“Really,” you said flatly, “I’ve been killing it.”
“Yes,” he said. “You don’t know it because you’ve only got your own experience—you went from nearly dead on our doorstep to taking down most of your opponents.”
“In training,” you said.
“That still counts!” Luke exclaimed. “Y’know, you’re holding yourself back. You’re incredible, but you’re the only one that seems to not notice it.”
“And my—”
“Do not say your mom,” he said, pointing a finger at you. “We’re not talking about the gods right now, we’re talking about you. And you, Bee, are killing it.”
That gave you pause. “Bee?”
“I’m trying to get you back up and you focus on the nickname?” Luke asked wryly.
“Just explain it,” you said.
“Bee shortened from Berkeley,” he said. “Not fully unclaimed, but still something special.”
God, you hated him. You’d been feeling shitty for a majority of your month here, but he always managed to make you smile.
“Sure,” you said.
“And a little annoying,” he added, earning himself a jab in the side as he laughed, “with a bit of a sting.”
“Aren��t you just so clever?” you mused, though you couldn’t help your smile widening.
“It’s in my genes,” he said proudly.
For the rest of a less than exciting lunch, Luke kept you occupied. Whether it was stories of his life before camp, or the couple of months that earned him counselor before you got here, or getting the other campers at the Hermes table to talk about themselves, he made sure you didn’t get a chance to spiral.
By the end, your face hurt from smiling
As you finished cleaning up, Marisol turned to you. “Me and a couple other girls were gonna go play volleyball—do you wanna come with us?”
“Yeah,” you said, and your smile grew. “Yeah, I’d love to. Thanks.”
“‘Course!” she exclaimed, and she linked arms with you. “I’d be a fool not to get you on my team after you took down Liam yesterday.”
She continued to talk as she pulled you along, and you looked back at Luke. He chuckled and gave you a thumbs up. “Go get ‘em, Bee!”
You gave him one back, and as you turned back to Marisol, you found that you couldn’t stop smiling.
—
It was two in the morning and you couldn’t stop crying.
You finally had a mattress against your back, and however stiff it was, it was better than the floor. A decent amount of kids got claimed over the past month, and half the cabin left after the summer was over, so you finally had the privilege of a bunk—thankfully, Marisol did too, and she was below you.
At least, until the summer-only campers that all the Hermes kids liked more than you returned. Then it was back to the floor.
Unless you got claimed before then. But that was less likely than being able to muster some good will from your cabin mates.
Because it was embarrassing, truly. You’d been at camp for four months now, and you hadn’t even gotten a single goddamn peep from whoever your mother might be. You just woke up every day on the floor, moseyed about a camp that still didn’t feel like home, burned offerings to a god that didn't want you, and went back to sleep on the floor.
And now you were crying in a bed that was barely even yours and it was two in the morning and you were wondering if it would have just been better for you to die on the road to camp the first time, because at least then your mother might have actually paid attention to you.
“Hey.”
And now you were really wishing you’d died because you’d woken someone up and they’re just gonna hate you more—
“Are you okay?”
You finally turned your head from where it had been buried in a pillow, a laissez-faire attempt to suffocate yourself or maybe just muffle the noise, and you saw Luke Castellan. Counselor of a cabin of thieves, vagabonds, and rejects, and maybe the only person that you didn’t want to see you like this. All that good will, the unearned faith you’d accumulated—this was the easiest way to lose it. His eyebrows were creased, and his whisper held what sounded like concern, but he was required to be concerned.
You nodded, still not moving, still not speaking. Tears rolled down your cheeks and stained the bed sheet.
“You’re gonna have to be a little more believable than that, Bee,” Luke murmured.
“No, I don’t,” you whispered back.
You got the tiniest huff of a laugh out of him, and he gestured towards the closed door with his head. “Wanna take a second?”
“It’s past curfew,” you mumbled.
“And you’re miserable,” Luke said. “You can’t feel any worse getting eaten by harpies than you do now.”
Still, you stared at him.
“It’ll be okay,” he promised. “Right outside the cabin. Harpies won’t even know.”
You rubbed a hand across your face, coming away wet with tears, and you realized that he wasn’t just going to leave you like this. So you got up as quietly as you could, careful not to disturb your bunkmates, and followed Luke. He pushed the door open and shut so quietly you wondered how many times he’s snuck out.
The cold air was sobering, and you wiped away more tears before wrapping your arms around yourself. Camp Half-Blood was always supposed to have perfect weather, but you guess not even they were immune to November nights.
“So,” Luke started, and in your peripherals you could see him leaning against the side of the cabin. You could feel his gaze on you, and you just stared off into the distance.
“So,” you repeated.
“You wanna tell me why you’re crying in the middle of the night?” he asked.
“Not really,” you said, because it felt ridiculous that a boy your age was acting like he’s ten years your elder.
Luke chuckled and tipped his head. “Fair. You want to say anything at all?”
“I’m sorry for waking you up.”
He shook his head. “I was already up. I’m a light sleeper.”
“Seems rough in a cabin like this,” you said.
“I’ve gotten used to it,” he said. “Did you have a nightmare?”
You frowned, because now it really felt like he was babying you. Luke must have caught on, because he laughed a bit and shook his head.
“Demigods have… extremely vivid dreams,” he said. “Typically horrific nightmares. Sometimes prophetic.”
Your frown deepened. “That’s awful.”
Luke shrugged. “It’s just the way it is. The gods can’t interfere in mortal affairs, so I guess it’s their way of letting us know what’s wrong.”
You shook your head with a sigh. “No nightmares, thankfully. Just… feeling overwhelmed.”
“About what?” he asked. “I told you you’ve been doing great.”
“It doesn’t matter how many times you say it,” you said wryly. “It doesn’t mean I believe it.”
“There’s no reason you shouldn’t,” he asserted.
You huffed a laugh. “It’s been four months, Luke. Four months since I got here after nearly dying in five different states, and I don’t even know who’s responsible for it.”
“Ah,” Luke said. “The unclaimed thing.”
“Yeah,” you said wryly. “I guess you could call it that.”
“Sorry,” he said, and he shook his head. “It’s a bigger deal than that, I know.”
“Maybe it isn’t,” you said. “There’s at least six other kids in there dealing with the same thing as I am, and none of them are waking up their counselor in the middle of the night with their tears.”
“Don’t talk about yourself like that,” Luke said with surprising conviction. “Like your feelings aren’t valid. Because they are.”
You crossed your arms. “Doesn’t seem like it.”
“They are,” he insisted. “A— and you’re not bothering me. We’re friends, and we help each other. I care about you, y’know.”
“I never said I was bothering you,” you said wryly.
“You thought it,” Luke said. “I know you did.”
“...Maybe.” You sighed and shook your head as you looked out at the stars. They really were beautiful here. “I just can’t help but be bitter about all this, and I feel so shitty about it.”
“Would it make you feel better to know you’re not the only one that thinks that?” he asked.
“A little, yeah.” You glanced at him. “No one else seems too bothered that their parents are never around.”
“Most of them have accepted that it’s just the way it is,” he said. “Doesn’t mean you have to.”
“Have you?”
Luke sighed after a moment of reluctance. “I… I have a complicated relationship with my dad because he was around. It was almost… worse to know him, and then to have him leave.”
“It’s better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all,” you quoted.
“I don’t know about that,” Luke murmured. “But it certainly helps to talk about it.”
You glanced over to see him gazing off into the distance, a look in his eye that you couldn’t quite place. This was the most he’d ever talked about his past to you, you realized—and it still wasn’t much.
“When were you claimed?” you asked after a moment of contemplation.
Luke shrugged. “I never really had to be. Hermes stayed with my mom for a year after I was born, and she told me who he was when I was a little older. I’ve known basically my whole life—he had no reason not to claim me as soon as I got to camp.”
“So you’re saying my dad could be keeping secrets from me too,” you said.
“He might not know,” Luke said. “A lot of times, they don’t talk about it. Sometimes, we don’t find out until a monster’s trying to kill us on a field trip.”
You huffed. “What a great existence we’ve been blessed with.”
Luke smiled, though it was tighter than usual. He let out a deep breath, then fully turned to you.
“Do you have your dagger with you?”
You frowned. “It’s under my pillow. Why?”
“Under your—” Luke stared for a moment before he laughed and shook his head. “A little paranoid?”
You shrugged. “You said it yourself. You’re a cabin of thieves.”
“True,” he admitted. “How’d you like to get some of this emotion out?”
“We’re sneaking out even more?”
“It’ll be fine,” Luke promised.
“You always say that,” you said. “Eventually, it’s not gonna be true.”
He laughed and gestured at the door. “Get your dagger. We’re gonna make this a very bad night for some mannequins.”
-
“Maybe this wasn’t a good idea.”
You huffed as you ripped your dagger out of the dummy, a few strands of straw coming out of the new hole you’d torn in its forehead, and wiped the sweat off your forehead. “Are you kidding? This was a great idea.”
“Not this part,” he said. “The ‘being alone with you during a rage’ part.”
“I’m not in a rage,” you muttered as you slashed at the breastplate, “I’m blowing off steam.”
Luke hummed. “And you thought you weren’t a good fighter.”
You stabbed at the armor again then rammed your fist into its head, and you took a step back as the mannequin thudded to the ground. “I guess I just need to think about my mom before I go into battle.”
“Y’know, Bee,” Luke said, “you scare me sometimes.”
You shook your head, wiping your blade on your night shirt to get any debris off as you turned around. “You’re really gonna stick with that?”
“I told you I’d stop if you didn’t like it.”
“It’s not that. I just…” You sighed and shook your head again. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Of course it does.” Luke crossed his arms. “Everything you have to say matters.”
“Not if I say it doesn’t,” you countered, and you looked at him. “Who do you think it could be?”
“Your parent?” he asked. You nodded.
“Definitely not Apollo,” Luke said. “You’re way too dreary to be a kid of the god of the sun.”
“Gee,” you said dryly, “thanks.”
Luke shrugged. “You asked.”
“Well— who else?” You picked the dummy back up and dusted the armor off. “Athena, maybe? I’m smart.”
“Not smart enough to not be out past curfew with me,” he said.
“You suggested this,” you scoffed. “And I definitely needed it. If we get caught, I’m blaming you.”
“And why do you think that would work?” he asked, amused.
“You’re the camp’s golden boy,” you said. “I doubt you’d get in much trouble.”
“Sure, sure,” he said, nodding. “Or you just think I’m good enough to talk my way out of it.”
You tilted your head. “That too.”
“I never thought Ares before,” Luke chuckled, “but after all this, I think you might have it in you.”
“God, I hope not. Priya hates me.”
“She doesn’t hate you,” Luke said. “She just tried to kill you that one time.”
“And that other time during capture the flag,” you said. “She’s out for blood, Luke.”
He chuckled and shook his head. “She always is. She’s probably already moved onto her next victim.”
“I hope so.”
“Maybe Aphrodite?” he suggested. “You’re awfully pretty.”
You rolled your eyes. “Flattery will get you nowhere.”
“It’s not flattery if it’s true,” Luke corrected.
You huffed a laugh but couldn’t help the slightest smile as you shook your head. “It’s not Tyche, at least. I have the worst luck.”
“Maybe you’re a Big Three kid,” he said. “How do you feel about the sky?”
“I like it,” you said.
“The ocean?”
“Not so much.”
“And the darkness?”
You huffed a dry laugh. “I’m not a Big Three kid, Luke. Even I know that.”
“No, you don’t,” he said. “You can never know for sure until you’re claimed.”
“If I was, I would be the biggest disappointment,” you said, looking at your reflection in your dagger. “Breaking their pact for a kid that can barely fight.”
“Why do you always do that?”
Luke’s voice had lost the joking edge from before, and when you glanced over at him, he was frowning.
“Do what?”
“You always put yourself down,” he said. “You don’t even give yourself a chance to believe that you’ll be great, or that you’ll succeed—you’re just a coward, or a failure, or worthless at the first bump in the road.”
“Luke—”
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I need you to understand that you are so, so much more than whatever that shitty voice in your head says.”
You went silent. Any words you could have even said stuck in your throat.
“This is not an easy life,” Luke asserted. “We’re thrown into an ocean before we know how to swim, and we have to find the shore all on our own or die trying. We—” he laughed, but there was no heart in it— “we’ve got our parents above us that could guide us, could save us, but most of the time they refuse to even acknowledge us. And we’ve got every single goddamn obstacle in the way trying to kill us.”
He inclined his head towards you. “But in spite of all that, you’re alive. You’re still here. You’re pushing through everything in your path, and you are still fucking here. Do you get that?”
“…I’m still here,” you repeated, and your hands clenched into fists. It had never felt more right to have your dagger in your hand.
Luke nodded resolutely. “And you’ve got a couple lifeboats to help along the way.”
“You mean it?” Your voice came out softer than you thought, in stark contrast to the stiffness of your bones, but you felt like a kid all over again.
“With all my heart,” he promised. “For as long as you’re here, I’ll be here.”
Your throat tightened, and the telltale beginnings of tears pricked behind your eyes. This time, when you spoke, your voice was little more than a whisper. “Thank you.”
“Always,” he said. “And I mean that.”
You nodded, maybe a few too many times, and cleared your throat as you looked back at your dagger. “It’s late. We should get back before we actually get in trouble.”
Luke nodded too, and he helped you move the dummy back into place. You hated how your heart jumped into your throat when your hands brushed for the barest moment, but thankfully, he didn’t seem to notice.
“Thank you for this.” You played with your hands as Luke finished putting everything else away—extra insurance to make sure no one knew you were here—and only managed to make eye contact just as he looked at you. “It… it really helped.” More than he knew, you were sure.
Luke smiled, and he offered you his arm. “Always.”
You took it, ignoring the heat in your cheeks. “Just… don’t tell anyone about the crying.”
He chuckled as you started walking together. “After the way you’ve been handling that dagger? I’d be a fool.“
-
“Luke,” you groaned, “this is awful.”
“You were the one who said you wanted to spend time with me,” he said, giving you a crooked smile. “Spending time with me after the worst cabin inspection ever means cleaning the place head to toe for our next one.”
“Is skipping dinner really worth it though?” you asked as you scooped up a pile of dirty clothes and tossed it into the basket between you two.
“It’s the only time this place is completely empty,” he said. “I told you I could handle it alone—you’re the one that insisted on helping.”
“Maybe I do want to be a Big Three kid,” you grumbled. “At least I’d only be cleaning up my own mess.”
“You’d also have the wrath of the gods and every monster in the world to deal with,” he said.
You shook your head. “A small price to pay for a clean cabin.”
“And then you wouldn’t get to see me when you wake up every day,” he mused. “A much bigger price to pay.”
You huffed as you dropped to your knees, reaching under a bed to grab a stray camp tee. “Keep talking, pretty boy. It won’t clean the floors.”
Luke grinned. “You think I’m pretty?”
“I think you’ve got the messiest cabin in the world,” you said. “We’ve gotten the lowest rating every day for the past two weeks. I’ve been here for seven months now, and I don’t think we’ve ever gotten a full five.”
“Which is why you’re helping me!” he said. “Because you’re as sick of scrubbing the pegasi stables as I am.”
“You’re the counselor here!” you exclaimed. “You’ve gotta whip your siblings into shape.”
Luke gestured at you. “You’re basically my co-counselor. It’s just as much your responsibility.”
“And just what makes you think that?” you marveled.
“You’re the person in the cabin I like the most,” he said, “and we spend a lot of time together. That’s enough to make you my partner.”
“My stuff is always clean,” you said. “It’s you and the rest of the Hermes kids that’ve gotten us stuck in the stables and the kitchens every afternoon. Not me.”
You started remaking the unmade bed—would it kill any of the Hermes kids to make theirs right after they got up?—and shook your head. “It’s just not fair. Aphrodite’s cabin is basically Barbie’s Dreamhouse, and Demeter kids can grow plants to make it all pretty. We’ve just got a cabin of slobs.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he said, but when you glanced at him, you saw he was smiling. “It’ll all be fine.”
“You always say that.” You got the fitted sheet into all the corners then looked at him full-on. “Even when it’s not about something as stupid as laundry. How do you know?”
Luke shrugged as he nudged a ladder to a top bunk back into place. “I don’t. I just hope for the best.”
“How do you do that?” you asked. “How does anyone here do that? I feel like I’m the most pessimistic person here.”
“Every single one of us is an anomaly,” Luke said. “Freaks of nature. By all accounts of logic, we shouldn’t exist. But we do. All of mythology does. And when we have to literally fight for our lives for every single day, it doesn’t do much good to sweat the small stuff.”
“All I do is sweat the small stuff,” you grumbled, and you stretched your back out before you continued. “D’you think they’ll get annoyed that we just pooled all their laundry together again?”
“Nah,” Luke said. “If they didn’t want to have to pick all their stuff out after we so graciously do the laundry for them, they would keep their things clean in the first place.”
You chuckled and shook your head as you finished laying out the sorry excuse for a comforter—it would end up on the floor five seconds into the night, but Sisyphus and the boulder and all that—and sat down on the fruits of your labor. “I think this mess is the one thing I won’t miss when I get claimed.”
“You’re not as down about that as you used to be,” Luke noted.
“You know how they say a watched pot never boils?”
He actually laughed at that as he leaned against a bed post. “If you don’t care, you’ll get claimed faster?”
You shrugged. “Nothing else has worked. And like you said—don’t sweat the small stuff, right?”
“Like you said— all you do is sweat the small stuff.”
“Maybe I’m gonna try and turn over a new leaf,” you mused.
“I think that would be good for you,” he said. “You’ve been happier lately. It’s good to see you happy.”
“You’ve been watching?” you asked wryly.
Luke smiled. “You know I always am.”
You ignored the warmth stirring in your chest as you shrugged. “I’ve spent way too much time this year being sad over things I can’t control. Might as well start focusing on the things I can.”
“And to think,” he mused, “this is the same girl that wanted nothing to do with me when we first talked.”
“Oh, please,” you said dryly, “I’ve always wanted something to do with you.”
“And you still understand that flattery gets you everywhere,” Luke said with a grin. He pushed himself up and held out his hand. “C’mon—this place is clean enough. I think if we run, we can still make dinner.”
“Think we’ll get in trouble for partially skipping?” you asked as you stood up and took his hand, swinging your intertwined hands a bit as you walked together.
Luke chuckled as he pushed the door open and you walked out. “After the work we did here? We should be hailed as saints.”
-
“Luke,” you whispered.
His eyes shot wide open as he jolted up, and you had to stifle your laugh at his bewildered expression before he realized it was you.
He said your name groggily, rubbing his eyes as he kept himself propped up with his other arm. “What d’you need?”
“The stars,” you said. “They’re beautiful tonight.”
“So are you,” he mumbled. “You don’t see me waking you up in the middle of the night to tell you that.”
“Luke,” you said, but you couldn’t help your smile. “On topic.”
“The stars,” he said, barely nodding in his addled state. “Good for them. I’m going back to sleep now.”
“No, Luke—” you laughed softly and took his hand. “Come stargazing with me.”
He closed his eyes, but he didn’t take his hand away. “You’re insane.”
“Please,” you said. “I could never see the stars at home, not like this. They’re brighter than I’ve ever seen.”
“It’s so late,” he complained. “Can we do it in the morning?”
“Do you know what stargazing is?” you asked, amused.
“Hey, lovebirds.” The annoyed, tired voice of a camper rang out as they hit the wall. “Take it outside so we can sleep.”
Again, you had to bite back a laugh. Luke looked like he was holding back a groan, but he got up anyway, rubbing the grogginess out of his eyes. You moved to the door as quietly as possible, and you waited until he joined you on the small porch.
“Thank you,” you said, hearing the door close, “and sorry.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Luke covered up his yawn as he held a jacket out for you. “Put this on. I’m not gonna be responsible for you getting a cold because you want to stargaze in February.”
Your eyebrows rose as you took it. “Is this yours?”
“Don’t think too much into it,” he said, but he had the slightest smile on his lips. “You wanna see the stars, right? Let’s see ‘em.”
“Not here,” you said, shaking your head as you zipped up the maroon hoodie. You held out your hand once you finished. “Do you trust me?”
“Oh, gods,” he muttered, running a hand through his messy hair. “We’re doing a trust exercise too?”
“I’ll take that as a yes,” you remarked. You took his hand and started dragging him along, a clear spot in mind.
“You’re kidding me,” he said in exasperation. “I thought we were just gonna look at the sky for a couple minutes— you’re taking me to a second destination?”
“Hey,” you said, “don’t sweat the small stuff.”
“Oh, I can’t wait to use that on the harpies when they catch us and eat us,” Luke said offhandedly. “‘I’m sorry, ma’am—we’re really trying not to sweat the small stuff.’”
You laughed as you continued on your way, and out of the corner of your eye you could see Luke smiling too, despite himself. Suddenly, though, his grip tightened on your hand and he pulled you behind one of the thicker columns of the pavilion.
“Wh—”
He shook his head then gestured with it to the other side of the pavilion. One of the harpies—Aello, if you remembered correctly from Chris’s rant the past week about cleaning dishes—was walking past, muttering things to herself.
“Speak of the devil,” you marveled. You definitely weren’t a child of Tyche.
Luke gave you a look that quite clearly said be quiet, and for some reason that only made you want to laugh more. He must have seen that glint in your eye that he’d grown used to, because he placed his hand over your mouth right before the dam was about to burst.
You squeezed his hand tight as you tried to keep yourself from blowing your cover while Luke occupied himself with actually watching to make sure your path would clear. You were pressed right up against each other, and even through the jacket, even in the cold, you could feel his body warmth. He did say he ran hot.
Eventually, Luke let out a labored sigh and let his hand drop, and you wheezed, nearly doubling over.
“There is something wrong with you,” he said. He was barely able to hold back his own amusement.
“Oh my god,” you breathed, “that was awful.”
“That was your fault!” he exclaimed.
“How was it my fault?” you argued. “You’re the counselor here—you’re meant to be the responsible one!”
“I was being responsible!” Luke laughed again as he ran his hand through his hair then used it to gesture at you. “You were the one that nearly got us caught—you were the one who wanted to be out here in the first place!”
“Right,” you said, pointing your finger, “we gotta get to the beach.”
“Stargazing on the beach,” Luke marveled. “Definitely worth nearly getting eaten.”
“Oh, shut up,” you said as you continued to pull him along. “You could’ve said no.”
He squeezed your hand for a moment. “We both know I can never say no to you.”
Once you got to the beach you let go of his hand and laid down, taking care not to get sand in your sneakers. Luke sat down next to you but stayed up, watching the tide go in and out.
At night, without a hundred campers running around making all the noise they can, you actually felt like you could breathe.
“It’s nice, isn’t it?” It almost felt wrong to break the sacred silence, to insert yourself in the ambiance of nature working together in all its glory.
“Yeah.” Luke’s voice was softer than usual, that rough edge you’d grown used to absent in the face of calmer seas. “Yeah. It’s…”
“Serene,” you suggested.
“Beautiful,” he said. When you glanced at him, he was already looking at you.
“Very smooth,” you said wryly. “Now stop flirting and look at the stars.”
Luke chuckled lightly as he let himself fall back. His hand bumped yours as he adjusted his position, and your breath caught in your throat for the barest moment. You moved it away.
The two of you laid there together in silence gazing at the stars for what felt like forever. The gentle waves coming to shore then leaving, the scattering of sand from quiet winds, and not a single angry car horn or police siren.
You missed home, the city. You were headstrong in your belief that Detroit was better than New York. But gods—sometimes, you just couldn’t beat camp.
You didn’t know what possessed you to break the silence. But something had been tugging at you since the moment you laid down on the beach, and so you did.
“Can I tell you a secret?”
Luke didn’t miss a beat. “Always.”
“I…” you trailed off for a moment, but you bolstered yourself. “I’m scared of what comes next.”
You heard Luke shift in the sand and felt his eyes on you. “What do you mean?”
“After this,” you said. “The honeymoon phase of being a demigod.”
He huffed a laugh. “I wouldn’t say we have a honeymoon phase.”
“You know what I mean.” A shiver went down your spine and you put your arms on your chest. Like a coffin. “I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.”
“I think you need to stop getting up in the middle of the night,” he said. “It seems you have all your existential crises then.”
You exhaled out your nose, a sorry excuse for a laugh. “I’ve heard about quests—how they can happen for no reason except a god’s will, to— to prove that you’re worthy. And all I can think about is that my mother will never claim me until I prove I’m worthy or die trying.”
Luke was silent. You could feel your throat closing up, the threatened onslaught of tears. You blinked them back.
“All my life, I have never felt seen,” you murmured. “And I’m terrified that the only way I will be seen is when I die.”
“Look at me.”
You turned your head—Luke’s eyes were piercing in the moonlight.
“I don’t care what anyone says, especially that voice in your head—you’re worth everything and more,” he said. “And you are worth so much more than becoming a martyr for a god’s approval.”
“I wish you could tell my mom that,” you mumbled.
“I would march right up to Olympus and say it to her face,” he said. “And if it bothers her that much, she can smite me right now.”
That got a breathy laugh out of you from the pure absurdity. Luke’s eyes flicked to the sky as he waited, and when he didn’t instantly die a horrific death, his gaze went back to you.
“I see you,” Luke promised, his voice low. “And I’ll make everyone see you the way I do. I swear it.”
You were starstruck. You couldn’t look away from him, from the determination etched into each detail of his face, the softness in his eyes directed wholly at you—the fact that he was here at all in the first place at an unholy hour just because you asked.
Oh gods. You were in trouble.
“It’s late.” You finally managed to break the spell that held you under. “We should go.”
“Yeah.” Luke made no motion to move, still focused wholly on you.
“Luke,” you whispered.
You could have sworn his eyes moved down to your lips, but he was sitting up so quickly that you knew you must have imagined it. You cleared your throat as you followed suit, brushing the sand off your—his— jacket.
“This was nice,” he said after a moment. “...Thanks for waking me up.”
“Of course,” you said. “There’s… there’s no one else I would’ve wanted to share it with.”
Luke smiled, and you didn’t think he’d ever looked more beautiful than he did now, awash in the silver moonlight. If you were braver, you would have taken his hand again. You would’ve done what the voice in your head desperately wanted to do—had wanted to do for the past two months.
But you didn’t.
“I guess it was worth nearly getting eaten, huh?”
“Yeah,” he said, and he shrugged. “But most things are worth it when it comes to you.”
You nearly melted right there, and it was a credit to your strength that you didn’t say anything horrifically stupid. Instead, you put on a smile, hoped he couldn’t see how much he was killing you, and started back up on the path.
“C’mon,” you said. “Before we end up having to clean the entire camp for breaking curfew.”
“Whatever you say,” he mused.
-
You groaned as you slumped into your usual spot at the Hermes table. You heard Luke laugh, and you felt his eyes on you as you put your head in your arms.
“What’s got you so down?”
“I’ve been fifteen for three days and I already feel like an old woman,” you said. “Everything still hurts.”
“Capture the flag was meant to be a birthday gift,” Luke said wryly. “And we did win.”
“That doesn’t mean anything,” you grumbled. “I swear, some people went after me on purpose just because it was my birthday. I’ve got bruises all over.”
“You know, we have an infirmary for a reason.”
“They’re battle wounds,” you said. You picked up your head just to take your goblet. “Lemonade. Actually, pink lemonade.” You took a sip, but even that didn’t make you feel better. You buried your head back in your arms with a rough sigh. “Signs of our victory.”
Luke huffed a laugh. “Sometimes I really don’t…”
He trailed off suddenly, and you heard a collective gasp go up at the table.
“What?” you asked halfheartedly.
“You— you’re—”
You didn’t know why he couldn’t finish his sentence. You picked your head up to see Luke’s face awash in golden light, his eyes wide. Everyone else at the Hermes cabin was just as awestruck, and Marisol fumbled around in her purse until she pulled out her compact. She opened her foundation, the mirror pointing at you, and you realized why.
A glowing, golden, translucent sickle with a few sheaths of wheat floated above your head. You frowned.
Before you had the chance to say anything, Luke was yelling your name and tackling you in a hug. You let out a grunt of surprise as you barely managed to brace yourself, and when he pulled away he was smiling wider than you’d ever seen.
“You’re claimed!” he exclaimed, his hands gripping your shoulders. “You— you’re finally claimed!”
“Demeter,” you said, almost absentmindedly. It still hadn’t quite hit you.
“Demeter,” he repeated, nodding rapidly, that gigantic smile seeming like a permanent feature at this point. “I told you everyone would see you— I told you we would make them see you the way I do!”
The rest of the table was chattering away, and you could feel Chris patting you on the back and saying words that went in one ear and out the other. The rest of the pavilion was starting to catch word, and you could see a couple kids from a table on the opposite end standing up and craning to see. Maybe your new siblings.
(You should be happy.)
Your new siblings.
…Your new cabin.
You could still barely think, like there was static in your brain. Luke’s hands on your shoulders were the only thing grounding you.
(You should be ecstatic.)
A year of tears, silent prayers, and apathetic resolution had finally come to a close, just days after your fifteenth.
(Why are you not smiling?)
You’d been claimed. But you didn’t think you’d ever felt more lost.
#also you may notice. that these include the flashbacks mentioned at the end of bleedin me dry. bc i enjoy hurting people#luke castellan x reader#luke castellan fic#luke castellan angst#percy jackson and the olympians x reader#pjo x reader#x reader#sadie writes
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can you please write the trip with Zach and his family and the reader?! 🩷
Snowboarding Disaster
Pairing: Zach MacLaren x Reader
Warnings: N/A
Pronouns: She/Her
Word Count: 0.5K
Masterlist
Y/N has yet again been invited to go with the MacLarens on their yearly ski trip. She was invited last year, but she didn’t exactly go snowboarding with the family. She opted to stay in the chalet with hot chocolate and a good romance book. This year, though, she is determined to hit the slopes with her boyfriend. He helps her get all of her gear and they go outside. His family headed out ahead of them. He guides her to sit on the ground, explaining how to put her board binding on. She can see he is trying to hide her laughter and groans in frustration. “Can you help me, please?” she whines, looking at him in despair. He lets his cackle out for a second before bending to help her, “There you go, Baby.” he gives her a kiss on the lips and helps her up.
They head over to the magic carpet to go up the bunny hill and shrieks the moment her board is on the moving belt. “I do not like that feeling,” she cries out, trying to stabilize herself. Once at the top of the hill, Zach does a rundown of the basics and tells her to just try to slide down to him with her board perpendicular to the slope. She is easily able to do it, so he moves on to moving directions by shifting the weight of her body from foot to foot, still keeping the board somewhat perpendicular to the hill. This is where the problem started. She would put too much weight on one foot, which causes her board to twist parallel to the slope and she starts going out of control. After a few times of Zach catching her or her wiping out, she is close to calling it quits. “Come on, Baby. Just try it one more time,” he begs. She gives in to his pleas and tries again. This time she almost got down the hill correctly, but a small bump of snow tilts her board forward. She begins zooming out of control down the hill with no way of stopping. Panic starts to rise when she sees a little kid at the bottom of the hill. Luckily, Zach is able to get down fast enough and tackle her onto her back, just narrowly missing the child.
She groans, rubbing her head with her gloved hand. “I don’t think I ever want to go snowboarding again,” she moans, sitting up off the ground with Zach. He unbuckles her snowboard and helps her up, “I think you shouldn’t either. How about we head to the chalet and get some hot chocolate, instead?”
———
The rest of Zach’s family return to the chalet to find the couple cuddled on the couch near the fire. “You guys are here earlier than I thought,” Connie comments, sitting across from her son. Y/N smiles at her boyfriend’s mom, “Yeah, I wasn’t very good at it.” Avery giggles. “Are you sure it wasn’t just that you had a bad teacher?” Y/N gives the younger girl a mind-blown look, “You are absolutely right. It was your brother’s fault I was so bad. Maybe you should be my teacher next time.” “Hey! I am a great teacher, I have never felt so betrayed before,” he gasps out with a pouty look. Y/N brings herself closer to him, giving him a kiss. “It’s okay, you are an amazing boyfriend.”
Taglist: @winterrrnight
#zach maclaren#zach maclaren x reader#the other zoey#drew starkey#drew starkey x reader#drew starkey x you#drew starkey x y/n#drew starkey x female reader#drew starkey imagine#drew starkey fanfiction#drew starkey one shot
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happy hour drabble # 2
Sonic had been dragging his feet all day. It was Monday again, which meant there wasn't much to do at Speedy's. Count the change, polish his roller skates, clean the fryers. That was his routine. By the end of his shift, it felt like there were lead blocks stuffed in his socks.
One of his coworkers gave him a strange look when he hung up his hat. "What?" he asked.
"Nothing," the girl replied. For some reason, her eyes looked sad. "Get some rest tonight, won't you, Arthur? We can't have you calling out; you're our best skater!"
Sonic raised an eyebrow, but before he could ask what she meant by that, she disappeared out the back door. Though her voice was muffled now, he could still make out her last request: "And don't forget to lock up!"
Rolling his eyes, Sonic twirled the keys in between his fingers and shook his head. This wasn't his first rodeo! After switching out his skates for his regular, non-wheeled shoes, he left the restaurant with his laces still untied. The door closed behind him, and he locked it with a soft click.
Shadow was waiting for him in his usual spot. The headlights on Shadow's motorcycle illuminated the dark parking lot with warm yellow light, and its engine filled the air with a weighty hum. Sonic hopped onto the back of the bike in one swift motion, and then wrapped his arms around Shadow’s waist like he'd been waiting to do it all day.
"No detours tonight," Sonic said. "I'm bushed!"
Shadow glanced back over his shoulder and was greeted by a mess of wild brown-and-blue quills. "Fine," he said. "That disaster you call a coat would give us away in an instant. Save your strength so I can fix it before bed."
If Sonic replied, it was drowned out by the sound of the motorcycle's engine as it roared to life. Sonic rested his head against Shadow's shoulder as the dark hedgehog drove them back to their apartment. The cool air felt nice against Sonic's fur as the wind whipped through it.
Soon, they arrived. Shadow parked the motorcycle in front of their apartment building before the two of them got off. Only then, under the bright white streetlights, did Shadow see the red flush on Sonic's cheeks. Without so much as a word, Shadow stepped forward and pressed the back of his hand against Sonic's forehead.
"Uh?" Sonic blinked. "Sh-- Lance? What're you...?"
Shadow dropped his hand from Sonic's forehead. "You're burning up," he said matter-of-factly. Then, he took Sonic's hand. "Come. Let's go inside."
Sonic let Shadow lead him up the stairs as he processed what he'd just said. "Wait," Sonic said as Shadow pushed open the door to their apartment. "I'm sick? But it's Monday!"
"Correct."
After both of them were inside the apartment, Shadow shut the door. Now, Sonic's face was screwed up like he was trying to solve a difficult math problem. "That doesn't make any sense," Sonic was saying. "I wasn't sick last Monday, or last last Monday, or--"
Shadow interrupted, "It's possible our minds aren't the only things that remain intact throughout time."
Sonic frowned, "So, someone's germs from the last loop are making me sick in this one?" He paused to think about that for a second. "That's not good, dude. That means..."
"Any consequences will persist regardless of our current place in time," Shadow finished. He was frowning now, too.
"Great," Sonic said, even though nothing about this was great. "Well, there goes my Plan A."
"And what was that?"
Sonic grinned, "'Run straight at the bad guy and hope for the best'!"
Shadow pursed his lips and sighed. Loudly. With agitation. "That's always your plan."
Sonic opened his mouth to reply, but a sneeze cut off whatever snarky remark he had prepared. His grin faded as he remembered how tired he was. Talk about a buzzkill! Next time he saw Tails, he'd have to ask him to make a shrink ray, so he could fight off germs with his fists.
Shadow shook his head as he watched Sonic's ears droop. "Go. Sit," he said. "I'll take it from here."
Sonic wanted to argue, but Shadow’s stern brown eyes made him feel funny. “Whatever,” Sonic muttered as he averted his gaze. “Just don’t take too long. I can’t promise I’ll stick around if you do!”
In truth, Sonic wasn’t going anywhere. Now that he was free from the constraints of his 9 to 5, and the horrors of capitalism were held back by the immutable strength of their apartment door, he was left with nothing to distract him from his fever. He shuffled into the bathroom and plopped down on the stool, waiting for Shadow to come in with the dye.
He sniffled. His bones hurt. He scratched his head, irritated. This never would’ve happened to world famous superhero, Sonic the Hedgehog. It was only because he was disguised as some random punk that he’d gotten sick.
“I seem to remember your fox friend recounting a tale to the contrary,” Shadow suddenly said. He’d appeared in the doorway, dye in hand. “Something about you and Arabian Nights…?”
Sonic waved his hand. “That was different,” he said.
Shadow popped the lid off a bottle of brown dye. “Oh? Is that so?”
Huffing indignantly, Sonic replied, “Yeah. That time, my worst enemy was a super powerful genie. This time, it’s customers!”
Shadow lowered his head. Sonic could’ve sworn he saw him smile. “Hold still,” Shadow said, his hands freshly gloved up and covered in dye. “I’ll be quick.”
Regardless of the truth of that statement, Sonic was physically, mentally, and emotionally incapable of holding still. He tried. Of course, he didn’t want to squirm around like a worm in the rain. But he couldn’t help it! Just like he couldn’t help but tap his foot against the linoleum, his claws clack-clack-clacking against the tile as he did so. That was, until one of Shadow’s hands moved to the back of Sonic’s left ear, and Sonic froze.
Sonic felt Shadow rub the dye into his fur. He felt his claws brush gently against the softest part of his ear. And Sonic stopped thinking about how lame it was to be sick. He didn’t worry about holding still. His heart fluttered in his chest and his eyes closed, totally focused on how good it felt to have Shadow’s fingers in his fur.
Shadow paused, having noticed the strange shift in Sonic’s behavior. But there was no time for him to lean forward and investigate, because a gentle pressure was now pushing against the palm of his hand, urging him to continue.
It was Sonic, leaning into Shadow’s touch.
Shadow nearly choked, but he managed to keep his composure. He isn’t feeling well, Shadow reminded himself. That’s all this was.
And yet, when Shadow resumed styling Sonic’s quills, he wasn’t thinking about covering up all the blue spots anymore. Instead, he focused his attention on just that one spot behind Sonic’s ear. He didn’t know why. Maybe he pitied Sonic. As the Ultimate Lifeform, he would never know how it felt to be ill.
Sonic leaned deeper into Shadow’s touch. His tense shoulders relaxed. His job, their mission, the time loop–none of that mattered anymore. Somewhere inside his chest, next to his heart, a soft rumbling began. Purring.
Sonic was purring.
Abruptly, Shadow stood. He turned away from Sonic, so he didn’t see him blink his eyes open sleepily.
“Shadow…?”
“That’s all for now,” Shadow said stiffly. “Count yourself lucky. If not for your… illness… you would’ve been sitting there for much longer.”
And then he exited the bathroom, leaving Sonic sitting there as the last of his purrs quietly faded away.
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