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kamaluhkhan · 4 months

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THE GRUDGE (or: the 7 things luke castellan hated about you)

read part two GET HIM BACK! (or: the 7 reasons you want revenge on luke castellan)

pairing: luke castellan x child of nemesis!reader (gender not specified)

word count: 8.5k

summary: luke hated your guts. he really did. he just hoped that no one could tell how, even after all this, you're still everything to him.

warnings/disclaimer: luke's POV. spoilers for the lightning thief and season 1 of pjo. some heated make-out sessions but no actual smut - MDNI / 18+. mentions of blood + death + alcohol. luke is 19 during tlt but i wrote this with him + reader being 21 by the end of this (this is important for the next part lol). anyways, luke + reader share clothes and lots of intense emotions they maybe possibly don't process in the best way. lots of ANGST - it's a greek tragedy fr!

author's note: welcome to my new hyperfixation! this fic is LONG but i hope she's worth it ♡

♪: the grudge by olivia rodrigo

(i. you have a sharp tongue)

fourteen year old luke was overwhelmed when he first stepped into the hermes cabin. it was loud and overcrowded and no one really seemed to care that they had a new cabinmate. the head counselor showed luke to an empty bed at the back, told him to get settled in, and left without another word. luke dropped his backpack before collapsing on the mattress. it was so thin that he could feel the springs dig into his back.

"you'll get used to it."

luke sat up to see you climbing through the window.

you had a band-aid stuck on your chin, chipped nail polish the color of blackberries, and leather combat boots that looked way too heavy to be wearing in the heat of summer.

“the shitty mattress?”

“i meant the whole chaos of cabin 11, and the way things work around here in general. if you can get used to the shitty mattress, all power to you.”

your tone was friendly enough, playful even. you smiled at him so comfortably it made luke nauseous.

“good to know.” he tried to smile back at you, but his heart wasn’t in it. “i’m luke, by the way.”

“yeah, i know. i’m —”

“y/n!”

you seemed entirely unfazed as the blond who called your name stormed over to you. you rolled your eyes, something only luke could notice, before turning to her.

“someone stole my candy.”

“i’m very sorry to hear that, maddy. gotta be careful around here.” your voice dripped like poisoned honey, deceptively innocent and sweet.

maddy was not having it. she huffed at you. “it was you, wasn’t it?”

“that depends. did you cheat at poker last night? again?”

some of the chatter throughout the cabin paused, heads turning to listen in.

“what? n-no!”

“then you have your answer, maddy.” you exaggerated a sigh, as though you had already won the fight and were annoyed that she came back for more. “now, if you’ll excuse me, i have a new camper to show around.”

chiron had already given them a tour, but luke didn’t protest when you grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the window with you. your hand was warm in his as you dragged him along to the corner of the cabin where a poorly made ladder waited for you.

“come on.” you started climbing, and only stopped to look down when you realized luke wasn’t following you. “best view of camp. trust me.”

a shiver passed through luke. trust didn’t come easy to him. he also didn’t particularly want to return to a stuffy cabin where all he would do was count reasons he did not want to be there.

so, luke followed you. he sat down next to you on the roof and looked out at the sun shining on his new home, but he couldn't help but be slightly bitter. the gods had gotten all of you into this life of endless danger and battles and monsters, and this was all they had to offer in return: a summer camp.

it just didn't seem fair.

there was something else he noticed then. what was it that chiron had said? camp half-blood was supposed to be a safe haven for all demigods.

“i don’t get it. there are only twelve cabins, but aren’t there, like, a million other gods?”

you straightened your posture then, and turned to luke with a newfound interest.

“camp half-blood only has cabins representing the twelve olympians. apparently, they’re the only ones important enough to have children worth recognizing, and they can’t even do that half the time,” you explained, impertinence laced throughout your words. it seemed like something you could never quite get off your chest.

every demigod knew that the gods didn’t appreciate sarcasm. they didn’t particularly like being called out on their bullshit, either.

you didn’t seem to care; you even rolled your eyes up at the sky, as if challenging zeus himself.

“anyways, that’s why the hermes cabin is so crowded. it takes in campers who are unclaimed or whose parent doesn’t have a cabin at camp. like me.”

“so, who’s your godly parent?”

you fiddled with the leather cord on your neck. it held a few clay beads like the other campers, but there was one silver charm he noticed only you wore — scales, by the looks of it. you clutched onto it.

luke realized that, despite your own advice, maybe you resented having to get used to the way things worked around here, and having to hide your resentment. maybe that was worse than having to sleep on an uncomfortable bed for the rest of your life.

"nemesis. goddess of revenge."

"that's....hardcore."

you scoffed and moved on to twisting the silver ring on your index finger. "a lot of people take it that way, and i think it scares them a bit.”

“so that’s why you’re extra nice to new campers, huh?”

“no, i was just in a good mood today.” you smirked.

“guess i was just lucky, then.”

luke couldn’t help but smile at your laugh — sharp, biting. you nudged your boot against his sneaker, which shifted you closer to him, shoulders practically touching.

“what people don’t understand is that it's more about balance, you know? you do good things, and good things happen to you. at least, they should. you do bad things and….” you pulled out an outrageously big bag of candy, dropped it between you and luke, and winked at him. “you face the consequences.”

“that makes sense.” luke leaned over to grab a handful of gummy bears. “like karma.”

“yeah. exactly.”

you bit the head off a red bear, both of you chewing in silence before you added:

“by the way, i’m sorry about your friend.” you swallowed and caught luke’s gaze.

chiron warned him that word would travel fast around camp about what happened to thalia, and luke had prepared himself for anything — anything but your reaction. there was no pity in your eyes; instead, there was a hint of rage, as though thalia had been your friend, too.

“she deserved more.”

luke’s eyes caught the glint of a knife strapped to your belt. he took another handful of the candy you stole, and he thought about the fire and fearlessness behind your words, and, despite everything, it felt right to be with you then and there.

“yeah,” he finally whispered back. “she did.”

we all do.

neither of you said those words, but the suggestion was there, and it felt like a promise.

(ii. you hold on to every stupid, little detail)

“slow down, tiger.”

your voice echoed throughout the arena, and if luke had been fighting a real opponent, it might have gotten him killed. instead, he just stopped mid-swing, sparing another straw dummy from losing its arm.

“left hand,” you noted as you walked past him towards a bench. “you, my friend, are in need of a break.”

luke loosened the grip on his sword. the only time luke fought with his non-dominant hand was when he had overworked the other. he must have switched an hour ago, but judging by how heavy his arm felt, it could have very well been two.

his curls were stuck to his forehead with sweat, his shirt soaked through. he could feel a dull pain behind his eyes, and luke was worried that if he stopped to catch his breath, he would pass out. or, even worse, have to face the reality of the shitty news he’d gotten early that day.

“come sit with me,” you urged. “you’re exhausted, tiger.”

luke bristled at your nickname for him.

sure, luke loved that there was something only you called him, a secret kept between you in plain sight, but it was also a reminder that it was harder to hide behind the hero act when you were around.

everyone else at camp figured the nickname was a playful attempt at calling him strong and charismatic. the truth was that luke once told you that his favorite cereal as a kid was frosted flakes and that he would dream of playing sports as well as tony the tiger. for better or for worse, like most things, you wouldn’t let it go.

case in point: if it was anybody other than you trying to get him to take a break, luke could have just brushed them off with a charming smile and continued swordfighting until his arms fell off, but in the two years since meeting you, luke had never met anyone as stubborn and convincing. like him, it seemed you were willing to fight and shed blood to get your way. luke was never really in the mood to make you bleed, even when feeling like he could burn the entire world down, so he usually gave in to your demands.

as soon as he sat down next to you, you handed him an orange flavored energy drink — his favorite. anything other than water was hard to come by at camp without the enchanted goblets in the dining pavilion, or the right connection in the hermes cabin. he ran out of his stash the other day, but you must have noticed and gotten one of the stoll brothers to smuggle more in.

“thanks,” luke said, ignoring the jolt of electricity that passed through him when your fingers brushed together briefly.

the two of you looked out at the sword arena, and all the straw dummies that luke had destroyed. you wait for him to take three big gulps of his drink before speaking again.

“i guess chiron and your dad decided you weren’t ready for a quest.”

luke exhaled sharply. “how did you —”

“the only time you’d skip out on capture the flag is if something really shitty happened.” you looked down at luke’s clenched fists, and that seemed to be all the confirmation you needed. “you promised annabeth you'd be there, and it's not like you to let her down."

fuck. he had completely forgotten that tonight was annabeth's first time as team captain. this entire week, she had been prepping a winning strategy. it wasn’t like annabeth needed him to win, but luke was her big brother, and he should have been there. you were right — he had let her down.

the realization made luke’s day go from bad to worse.

"i told her you were helping a new camper with an emergency. she didn't believe it, but she adjusted her strategy and we still won.”

“well, thank the gods everything worked in the end,” luke grumbled.

“don’t thank the gods,” you quipped. “thank annabeth chase for her brilliant mind, and me for covering for your sorry ass.”

when luke didn’t indulge in your usual playful banter, you moved closer to him and brushed some curls away from his eyes. your skin warmed his forehead, and the small gesture made him feel better than he had all day.

“look, i’m not going to give you some bullshit inspirational speech about how the gods don’t get to define what a hero is, or how you don’t need a quest to prove that you’re worthy of being one. we’ve each been through that before, and i have a feeling this won’t be our last time, either.”

“then why are you here?” the question came out harsher than luke had intended it to.

“because she’s trying her best to hide it, but annabeth is really hurt that you didn’t show up for the game. i figured the least you could do is suck it up, come to the campfire, and make her those signature luke castellan s’mores. you could probably use one, too, since you haven’t eaten anything since breakfast.”

you were right, again. luke was exhausted, he was furious, but most of all, he was starving.

later that night, luke sat next to annabeth and vowed to make her as many s’mores as she wanted. you’d gone to sit with the hephaestus kids, trying to convince beckendorf and nyssa to join your cabin’s post-campfire party at the beach, even though they had to work in the forges early the next morning.

when chiron made his weekly speech, congratulating the winners of capture the flag and thanking the gods for keeping everyone safe, you and luke caught each other’s gaze from across the fire. you rolled your eyes and luke bit back a smile as you turned back to beckendorf. he noticed your knees were practically touching. did you sit that close to everyone?

luke was looking at you for so long that the marshmallow he was roasting fell into the fire, despite annabeth’s warnings. she handed him another one.

"you should tell her how you feel," annabeth said. "stop being a coward."

whether it was the smell of burnt sugar, the heat of the fire, or annabeth’s comment, luke started to feel dizzy. he did his best to shake it off, asking annabeth for a play-by-play of her strategy earlier that night, but he couldn’t quite get rid of the thought of you.

(iii. you don't care if your clothes are stained with blood)

“i just….i can’t fucking believe you, luke.”

“i don’t get why you’re so upset — you’ve never cared about quests before.”

luke was hoping to break the news to you after capture the flag. unfortunately for him, word travels fast around camp.

annabeth had the two of you scouting the east side for the flag, while she and some other athena kids took the west. you hadn’t found anything so far, which meant that you’d spent the better part of an hour bickering over luke’s choice of companions for his quest. a choice that included charles beckendorf and chris rodriguez, and purposefully did not include you, much to your fury.

before you could continue arguing, luke heard the sound of footsteps approaching. he looked over to you, and you already had your shield and sword at the ready.

a few red defenders emerged from the trees. one charged at luke, but you stepped in so he could deal with the other two. one of his opponents went down fairly easily, but the other put up much more of a fight. metal clashed behind him as you kept fighting as well. you might not have been as skilled a swordfighter as luke, but he knew that you could hold your own, at least until he was finished with the person in front of him.

luke parried his opponent’s strike, causing them to take a step closer. he was preparing to disarm them, just as he heard you yelp and stumble to the ground. it only took a millisecond of his attention, but it gave his opponent the opportunity to elbow him in the face. luke felt a crack upon impact, and pain radiated from his nose; he powered through.

he had to finish this fight, and he had to do it fast. you needed him.

his ears were ringing as he finally knocked over his opponent, kicking away their sword and keeping his foot on their chest. luke turned around to see you having turned the tides, the blade of your sword dangerously close to your opponent’s neck.

you locked eyes with luke, and you both understood — it was time to go. the two of you ran through the forest, as far away as you could before having to stop and catch your breath.

luke removed his helmet to get some air, and dropped his weapons. you did the same. you looked at him, brows furrowed.

“your nose.”

luke licked his lips, tasting blood. the triumph of winning that last fight overshadowed the ache of his potentially broken nose. in fact, he liked the image of a ruthless warrior emerging from the glory and gore of battle, that even though he did not bleed ichor like a god, he still had power.

you, on the other hand, didn’t look impressed. instead, you stepped forward and offered the sleeve of your shirt to wipe away the blood.

“you don’t have to —”

“i know you think you’re a badass walking around all broken and bloody, but you shouldn’t deny your admirers your pretty face,” you teased.

it was no secret that luke had numerous admirers around camp, a fact you loved to tease him about. he was sure that you relished in how flustered that made him. all you had to call him was pretty boy, and luke could be reduced to a blushing mess.

it was pathetic how much power you had over him.

“besides, i wouldn’t have gotten out of that last fight if you hadn’t taught me that disarming technique earlier. i owe you. it’s what we do. we take care of each other, right?”

he couldn’t argue with that.

a few moments of silence passed as you cleaned his face. something shifted as you worked, the flirtatious grin fading away. when you pulled away, your sleeve was stained a dark crimson.

“just tell me honestly,” you finally murmured. “why don't you want me to join your quest?”

luke was genuinely taken aback by the softness of your voice, now devoid of its usual fire. you wouldn’t meet luke’s eyes, but being that close to you, he noticed they were slightly glazed over.

he had expected you to be angry at his decision. he expected you to yell and argue and try to change his mind. luke hadn’t expected you to be so hurt. so broken.

he hadn’t planned on it, but luke decided to tell you the truth then.

“look, karma, if you come with me, my heart wouldn’t fully be in the quest. i’d be so caught up in….well, you.”

a pause.

“is that a bad thing?”

“not usually, no.”

you smirked a little at that, and luke’s heart skipped a beat. it also made his decision even clearer.

“but i need to be focused for this. i need….” he let out a deep sigh. “i need to prove myself. this is my first real chance, and i can’t fuck it up.”

you met his gaze and smiled brightly at him, your signature spark of confidence returning.

“you won’t.”

you reached a hand up to play with his necklace. luke hadn’t noticed how close you’d gotten until your fingers started tracing over those four clay beads. it made his entire body burst into flames.

“i’ve been wanting to do something for a while. and, aphrodite save me, it might be really stupid, but —”

luke took a lucky guess as to where you were going, and crashed his lips against yours. aphrodite knows that he'd been wanting to do that for a while, too.

he often got drunk on the adrenaline of battle, the glory of winning, but nothing was quite like the rush of kissing you for the first time.

it was messy and urgent, both of you aware that, at any moment, you could be interrupted. your noses were bumping together, teeth clacking against each other. the metallic tang of blood lingered on luke’s tongue, but neither of you seemed to care. you even bit his lip slightly, as if you wanted more. armor sat heavy and cold between your chests, preventing you from getting closer. luke had never loathed the protective gear more.

he made up for it by lodging one hand underneath your jaw, and snaking the other beneath the celestial bronze, beneath the cotton of your shirt, admiring how your pulse quickened under his thumb when he grazed the soft skin of your stomach. you tangled your hands into his hair, nails scraping against his scalp. he groaned and felt you smirk against his lips.

luke had kissed a few people before, sure, but never like this: like a knife to the gut, and if you pulled away, luke would surely bleed out and die.

it wouldn’t be a hero’s death, in the traditional sense, but at least he’d die happy.

how many heroes could claim that?

when luke ran out of air, feeling like his lungs were burning, he had to pull away.

you glanced down at luke’s kiss-bitten lips, then back to his eyes. luke flushed under the intensity of your gaze.

“just promise me something, tiger,” you whispered, voice hoarse.

“anything.”

“come back alive.”

luke leaned forward and placed another kiss on your lips, this one much gentler than before.

“i promise.”

(iv. you love like a scar that won't fade)

the nightmares were getting worse.

luke woke up in a cold sweat, taking gulps of air in an attempt to steady his breathing.

“luke.”

your whisper did little to quell the pit of dread growing in his stomach, but it did enough to bring him back down to reality.

he was at camp half-blood (fuck the gods of olympus), in the hermes cabin (fuck you, dad), in a bed next to yours (fuck, if he could tell you what — who — was going through his head, he would).

“i’m…i’m fine,” he murmured back, voice catching slightly on the lie.

like clockwork, you shifted from your bed to his, slipping under the covers. it didn’t matter that it was a hot summer night, and the minute your legs touched his, he could feel himself starting to overheat.

your thumb brushed over the thick edge of his scar, up his cheekbone to the corner of his eye. it had been a year, living with this reminder. a reminder that he had failed, just as much as his father and the olympians had failed him.

luke tried to pretend that he didn’t come back from his quest as a shell of who he once was. after all, it was meant to be his shining moment as a demigod, meant to gain him all the glory and father’s praise he once wished for.

what a fucking joke.

every morning, luke would crawl into a different skin. he welcomed new campers and taught sword-fighting. he laughed with chris and his other siblings and strategized with annabeth for capture the flag. he would be the easy-going, charming, skillful senior counselor who respected the gods and honored them in everything he did.

again: a fucking joke.

nights were different, though, with you so close to him, you who could always see right through him.

every night, luke was a fourteen-year old boy again, with so much rage and resentment he didn't know what to do with it.

of course, you were always you - a bleeding heart underneath layers of armor. you didn't care about fate, or the gods, or the titans. you cared about justice, you cared about what was right and fair.

most of all, you cared about luke.

“you were screaming,” you told him, voice barely cutting through the soft snores and sleeptalkings of your other cabinmates.

“sorry,” he managed. looking at you in the dull moonlight, luke noticed the deep shadows under your eyes.

“it’s fine. you just….you scared me, tiger.”

your hand still rested on his cheek, and for a second, luke hoped you would kiss him, but you didn’t. instead, you told him to try and get some sleep, and sank further into his bed before closing your eyes.

for the hundredth night in a row, luke hoped you couldn’t hear his heart hammering in his chest as you fell asleep next to him.

since coming back from his quest, luke didn’t have it in him to suggest being anything other than friends, and you didn’t push it. there had been a few....moments between you, sure, but nothing more.

luke thought you might have changed your mind, because who would want to be with a bitter, worthless, wannabe hero? then again, that voice haunting his dreams…. luke could change that.

but, at what cost?

(v. you protect people as ruthlessly as a starving dog)

luke could hear you talking to percy jackson outside. though he couldn’t quite determine what was being said, as much as he tried.

you entered the bathroom and instantly caught luke’s eyes in the mirror. you were wearing your faded pyjama shorts with cartoon crows, and a flannel shirt that luke had a sneaking suspicion might have been his. you smiled at him before setting up at the counter, one sink between you.

“what was that about?” luke asked after spitting out a mouthful of minty toothpaste.

“oh, nothing.” you were searching through your toiletry bag for something, and seemed to come up short. “hey, do you have any extra dental floss?”

luke threw some over to you. as you effortlessly caught it, he noticed your knuckles, bruised and bloodied.

“what happened?”

you finished flossing and briefly examined your hands before pulling out your toothbrush.

“it’s not a big deal,” you assured. “some ares kids were picking on percy, and then they started pushing him around, like, really pushing him around, so….”

“....you decided to send them to the infirmary.”

you squeezed some toothpaste on your brush before continuing. “i don’t need you to lecture me about how i shouldn’t be fighting with other campers because i’ve been here longer and i should be a good role model. you know what a good role model does? not let kids beat up other kids and think the worst punishment they’ll get is no dessert for a week.”

luke watched carefully as you jammed the toothbrush in your mouth and brushed with such force, he was worried your teeth might dislodge. he knew that you would shed blood for someone you loved, and that you didn’t particularly care if you had to break rules in doing so, because you believed that what was written was not necessarily what was right.

in fact, luke loved that about you.

no, it wasn’t the fighting that luke cared about — it was who you were fighting for.

percy was a good kid, he really was. luke just didn’t want you getting attached.

“i wasn’t going to lecture you. i’m guessing chiron already did?”

you nodded and spat out what looked like a combination of toothpaste and blood. you rinsed your mouth until the water lost its pinkish hue. once you were done, luke continued his train of thought.

“i just didn’t realize you cared so much about him.”

“about percy?”

luke could tell that he didn’t have your full attention. you were packing your stuff back up, accidentally tossing luke’s dental floss into your bag, but he had more pressing matters to deal with.

“yeah. the kid’s only been at camp for three days, and you’re already acting like his guard dog.”

you finally turned to luke and glared at him.

“maybe. but percy’s sweet and he doesn’t seem like the type to put up with bullshit. he’s been through a lot, and annabeth seems to like him, too. as far as i’m concerned, percy’s one of us, and i’m not going to let anyone push him around.”

luke raised an eyebrow at you. “he’s sweet?”

“yeah. like, just now, he gave me some blue raspberry jelly beans as a thank you. said his mom used to work at a candy store. he also wanted me to apologize to you for him. he feels bad about beating you in sword-fighting earlier.”

you scoffed, like you resented luke for having to apologize to him on percy’s behalf. you definitely did not appreciate that guard dog comment. luke clenched his jaw, seething over what you had just said.

satisfied with his reaction, you gave luke that nauseating smile of yours, tilted your head towards the exit. a truce, because you never liked to fight with luke for too long, and a order, because you knew luke would always follow.

the two of you began walking back to your cabin in the warm mid-june air.

“i wouldn’t say he beat me,” luke huffed. “it was beginner’s luck.”

“sure, tiger. it was beginner’s luck that disarmed the best swordsman we’ve had in the last 300 years.”

you nudged luke’s shoulder with yours, but he recoiled from your touch.

“are you trying to make me feel worse?” luke tried his best to avoid snapping at you, keeping his tone measured.

“i’m just saying that maybe the kid has natural talent and that doesn’t make you any less talented. there’s no need to get jealous.”

luke resisted the urge to growl at your suggestion.

to be clear, he was not jealous. it’s just that luke had spent years of blood, sweat, and tears getting to where he was then, and percy jackson had just gotten to camp.

and, to be even more clear, luke was not jealous of how you were already defending percy with your whole body and your whole heart, the way you did for him.

by then, you reached the front of the hermes cabin. luke could already hear the commotion of what he would need to deal with as soon as he walked in. the burden of being head counselor, one he approached with an elastic smile that could snap at any moment.

you tugged on luke’s sleeve before he could open the door.

“hey. are we okay?”

luke looked down at your fingers grasping the fabric of a sweatshirt he was just realizing was yours. your nails were painted a dark red, now chipped after a week of wear. you had begged luke to paint his nails then, and once again, he gave in. he even started to like the purple you had chosen just for him, so deep it was almost black. the same color you were wearing the first time you and luke met.

he smiled at the memory — a real smile, no plastic — and then smiled back up at you.

“we’re fine, karma.” and he moved to enter the cabin. luke could hear the threat of an argument bubbling up, what sounded like a petty one over a prank gone wrong.

“wait.” you tugged at his (your) sweatshirt once more. “there’s something i wanted to talk to you about, about tomorrow night—”

“annabeth called a meeting during free time.”

“yeah, i know, it’s just —”

“she’ll run through strategy for capture the flag then.”

“one of the aphrodite senior campers asked me to the campfire,” you blurted it out, and luke decided to ignore the sound of a fight breaking out from behind the wooden door.

what in the name of hades were you talking about?

“they asked you out? like…like a….” luke didn’t even want to speak the word, scared it would make it real.

“a date,” you said casually, as if that one word didn’t rip luke’s heart in a million pieces. “i said yes.” an admission that took all those pieces and set them on fire.

sure, in the seven years since you and luke met, you’d each talked about boys, about girls, about dating and kissing them and going further. but there was something about this one that felt different. something about the way you told him.

“but, listen, i wanted to let you know it’s not —”

“good for you,” was all luke said through gritted teeth before someone started calling his name again, louder and more urgently, and he had to duck inside.

(vi. you taste like burning cherries and righteous anger)

your team had won capture the flag, of course. the biggest news of the evening, though: percy jackson was the son of the sea god.

he was a forbidden child, the hero of the great prophecy.

everything was falling into place.

all luke should be thinking about is kronos’ plan, and his role in it, and how a world without the gods of olympus was that much more in reach.

unfortunately, for the time being, he was so consumed by you.

you, from across the campfire, sporting cutoff denim shorts and fresh wounds from the game earlier. you, who had wrapped your knuckles in gauze, concealing their bruising, fixed the chips in your nail polish and stacked rings on your fingers. (for the record: luke had gifted you the one on your left thumb.) you, with dark lips that whispered too closely and laughed too loudly with a child of aphrodite— jordan li.

you hadn’t so much as looked at luke since congratulating each other on another win. when chiron announced his weekly gratitude to the gods at the start of that night’s campfire, you didn’t punctuate your resentment with your usual eye-roll or biting remark. you were too busy giggling at something jordan said.

luke wanted to be the one to whisper jokes in your ear. he wanted to be the one you left lipstick stains on later, along his jaw and down his neck. he wanted to be the one who kissed the blade mark on your shoulder and the bruises on your knuckles.

and yet, hours passed and it seemed that the thought of luke had never so much as crossed your mind. he found himself at an after hours party with a few senior campers on the beach. a lethal recipe: a poorly crafted bonfire, some contraband drinks and you in jordan li’s lap, playing with their hair and pretending luke castellan did not exist.

meanwhile, luke had katie gardner’s full attention. she was talking to him about the strawberry season, potentially leaning a bit too close into luke’s personal space, definitely flirting with him.

luke could have done a lot worse than the head counselor of the demeter cabin, who always smelled like fresh lavender, whose eyes were the bright green of spring grass and whose lips tasted like golden honey.

the problem was that luke only wanted you, and his eyes kept sliding over to where you were kissing jordan’s cheek, and he accidentally called the girl he was kissing by your name, which did not make her happy.

katie threw her drink in his face, told him to wake the fuck up, and walked away.

a chorus of gasps and chuckles erupted as luke stood there, diet coke and vodka seeping into his shirt. the commotion seemed to capture your attention, because you suddenly appeared next to luke, an empty bottle of cherry soda in your hand.

“rough night, tiger?” your voice, that nickname, made luke sick, his face twisting into a frown. you don’t seem to notice or care. instead, you switched your bottle with luke’s and took a sip.

“looks like you were having a pretty good time,” luke practically sneered. “where’s your date?”

“they went to bed.” you swallowed a mouthful of beer, grimacing at its bitterness. “gods, this is terrible. you and i should go on the drink run next time — we have better taste.”

“so, are you and jordan like a thing now?”

you gave luke a smile he didn’t quite understand, but made his stomach churn in ways only you could. “would that be a problem?”

“of course not.” he answered way too quickly for that to be true.

“let’s get out of here,” you suggested. “i think katie is about this close to strangling you with a tree branch.”

luke glanced over your shoulder to where green eyes glared back at him.

nowhere could luke find it in him to care. he wasn’t even sorry. he just shrugged, took the bottle back from you, took his first sip all night. luke almost gagged (because of course you were right, and the stoll brothers had better fake ids than they had taste) but he suppressed it.

“no. i’m good.”

biggest lie he ever said. like there wasn’t anger caught in his throat and jealousy swelling between his ribs.

“go find jordan,” he taunted. “kiss them, show them a good time! isn’t that the reason why you got all pretty?”

you narrowed your eyes at him carefully. your nostrils were slightly flared, and luke took a bit of pride in being able to rile you up.

“look, we haven’t really talked lately, and i think we should.”

“go find jordan,” he mocked once more. “almost all the aphrodite kids are here, and i’m sure you can be quiet enough to sneak into their cabin and if you want a quick fu—”

“luke.” you clipped his name, obviously getting to the limit of your patience with him. “if you want to stay here all night and be an asshole, you’re welcome to. you should know, though, that your happy-go-lucky hero mask is starting to crack and i don’t know if you could deal with the fallout from it shattering completely.”

you leaned in close and whispered that last part, very aware of the chattering that stopped and the eyes that watched the pair of you anxiously. luke was usually good at hiding that part of himself who wanted to burn the world down.

in ways you didn’t realize, you were right: he couldn’t risk revealing it, not now.

not yet.

“do whatever you want, castellan,” you spat out his last name, the combination of letters foreign in your mouth.“i’m leaving.”

luke should be proud of himself. he waited a whole two seconds before following you like a stray dog.

luke didn’t know if he’d ever felt you that enraged by him, and it horrified him. it also made him hungry for more.

“i’m not sure that jordan would want the two of us alone together at night,” he shouted after you, words echoing into the starless sky.

“gods, enough about jordan!” luke practically ran into you with how fast you turned around to confront him. “i was helping them with that stupid aphrodite tradition!”

“you….” luke faltered, all the snark leaving his body. “what?”

luke remembered silena beauregard once explaining the rite of passage to him: to prove themselves, a child of aphrodite had to make someone fall in love with them, and then break their heart.

“why…why would you agree to do that?”

you had reached the dining area by then, and you sat on one of the steps leading to the pavilion. luke stayed a few feet away, looking at you cautiously.

“jordan and i are already friends, and they figured a fake relationship would be the way to avoid anyone from actually getting hurt in the process.”

“you seemed so…so into it, though,” luke stammered, the memory of you in jordan’s lap, laughter bubbling from your lips, still fresh.

“it’s called acting, dumbass.” the camp didn’t rely on electricity, but there were enough torches around that luke could see you roll your eyes. “anyways, i was trying to give you a heads-up last night, but you wouldn’t listen.” you took a deep breath. “and, honestly, i didn’t push it because….i figured i should test a hypothesis.”

a hypothesis? you’d known annabeth for too long.

“what hypothesis?”

you hesitated.

“it doesn’t matter. fuck, this was stupid,” you muttered, and without another word, stormed through the dining pavilion, a short cut to the hermes cabin. your footsteps fell heavy against the marble, and luke’s not far behind.

“what hypothesis?” he asked again.

nothing but rushed footsteps.

“what hypothesis?” luke finally yelled.

third time was the charm, because you stopped in your tracks and faced luke once again. a fire burned in the bronze brazier, where campers were forced to offer up portions of your food to the gods at every meal. its roaring seemed to captivate you, and the flames danced across your face, illuminating all your curves and edges.

“i’m angry at the gods,” you stated.

this caught luke off guard. from the day the two of you met, luke knew you shared that feeling. you’d gotten quieter with your rage as you’d gotten older. luke supposed he got better at hiding it himself, as well.

“i’m angry at the gods for letting bad shit happen even if they can stop it, and for building this world in the fucked up way they did. i’m angry at your dad for the way he’s treated you, but — you, luke castellan.” you finally met luke’s eyes with a gaze so sharp, luke almost felt himself bleed. “i’m also angry at you, and not just for your bullshit tonight.”

your admission felt like a punch to the stomach, and luke was left with no air to breathe.

did you know?

“you haven’t been the same since your quest,” you continued, words slow and deliberate, the way you spoke when you were worried your voice would shake. “and i’ve come to terms with that in the past few years, but you….you’ve never tried to ice me out before. you’ve been acting distant since december, and it’s been driving me insane. do you realize how much i miss my best …..” you swallowed the word friend. “how much i miss you?”

luke hesitated, because what could he say? i know i’ve been distant, but i’ve been busy trying to start a war between the gods. sorry babe!

would you hate him, if you knew?

you had to have known that, despite the distance, luke missed you. for tartarus sake, in the last two days, he’d driven himself mad at you calling a fourteen year old boy sweet, and he was about to combust at the image of you dating someone else, with little care as to the collateral damage.

"you can't just avoid me, makeout with katie fucking gardner, and then….” you trailed off, hiding your face in your hands. whether it was to hide embarrassment or tears, luke wasn’t sure.

a smirk spread across luke’s face at the revelation that he hadn’t been the only one jealous at the bonfire that night. it lit luke up with the confidence he needed to not completely fall to his knees in front of you, beg for your forgiveness for everything he’s done.

“why do you care if i make out with katie fucking gardner?”

as he waited for a response, luke walked towards you until your back hit one of the marble columns.

“why do you care if i’m with jordan fucking li?” you clenched your jaw and looked right through luke. a clear indication that you wanted him to break down first; it wouldn’t be you who yielded this fight.

“because i want to be the one you’re with.” at that point, luke was so close to you that he swore he could hear your heartbeat. he reached out and played with the hem of your shorts. “why do you care if i make out with katie gardner?”

“because.” you drew in a sharp breath when luke’s fingers brushed underneath the denim, across the warm skin of your thigh. you closed your eyes. “don’t make me say it, tiger.”

the desperation in your voice made luke want to do unholy things with you, to you. luke knew you didn’t think of him as a saint, and you never expected him to be one. the reality was that you weren’t much better, either. what was essentially an altar to the gods burned bright next to you, but it seemed neither of you had ever cared less about it than in that moment.

luke would watch olympus fall. he would dethrone the gods and watch their glass castle shatter and find glory in a new world. in the grand scheme of things, he was willing to lose this battle.

in fact, he would have rather betrayed the titan lord himself than waste another second not kissing your lips.

so, he kissed you, and you kissed him back with such force, such hunger, it was ungodly.

no, you certainly weren’t a saint — but you were divine, in the most brutal, intoxicating way. in the way you shuddered when luke lodged a leg between your thighs; in the way you threaded your fingers through the belt loops of his jeans to bring him closer; in the way the metal of your rings burned through the skin of his hip, right to the bone, which made him shudder, and you smile triumphantly against his jaw.

the more he tasted your smirk flavored by cherry soda and the ashes of nearby flames, the more he felt your feral teeth against his neck and your wicked nails digging into his shoulders, the more you tugged on his curls, the more luke thought: maybe.

maybe you would give into your seething resentment, live up to those eye-rolls and snarky comments that got you in trouble with chiron, on the edge of hot water with the gods. maybe you would join the titan army. maybe, just maybe, this time, you would follow luke.

and yet — maybe wasn’t enough if it meant he could lose this. luke wouldn’t risk it, not until he kissed every battle scar and bruise on your body, and you did the same to his.

“wait.”

it was the last thing luke wanted to do, but he complied. he took the opportunity to appreciate the chaos he created: your shirt in disarray, your lipstick a mess, your chest heaving and desperate to catch a breath.

“i promised jordan that we’d keep up our charade for a week, two at the most. do you think we could keep this…” you tightened your fist around the fabric of his shirt. “a secret until then?”

luke responded by pressing his lips to yours once more, because there were definitely worse secrets to keep.

(vii. you wouldn’t hesitate to make him bleed)

luke had just left percy jackson to die.

he should be leaving camp, now, but he needed to see you one last time.

the universe works in mysterious ways, because you were out on a run through the forest, and you crossed paths before he even had time to wonder where you were.

“hey, tiger.” you smiled as if this was a regular afternoon. the two of you would teach your afternoon activities, sneak away during dinner so luke could kiss you in that spot that made you gasp. “wanna join me? i was just wrapping up, but i could be convinced to go longer.”

for a second, he was tempted to. very tempted.

“i don’t have much time.”

you seemed to notice luke’s sullen mood and you dropped your playful demeanor.

luke explained: the messages from kronos in his dreams, him stealing the lightning bolt and helm of darkness to start a war between the gods and framing percy. the plan to destroy olympus that luke had pledged his life to.

percy was surprised at what luke had done, and luke could imagine that the rest of camp would be, too. luke was the golden boy of camp half-blood, everyone’s big brother.

you, on the other hand, didn’t express any sense of shock.

“luke.” you said his name like you weren’t quite sure it was poison. “i’m going to give you five seconds to tell me that you’re joking.”

five seconds of silence passed. you took a few steps back from luke.

“i….i should have told you sooner.”

“yeah,” you scoffed. “you should have. but, you didn’t. did it feel good, having the titan king whispering sweet nothings in your ear? all the lies about how this war is the only way to get the glory you so desperately want? it’s fucking delusional.”

“it’s not delusional—”

“yes, it is!” you glared at him. “you’re on the wrong side of a war you made the mistake of starting.”

luke straightened his posture, thinking about how hypocritical you were being.

“isn’t this what you’re all about? revenge, karma. your mom will probably join us, too. don’t you want to see the gods finally get what they deserve?”

“not like this. i can’t believe how desperate you are, to believe that kronos is going to make everything right. it’s pathetic,” you spat. “i’m not saying the gods don’t deserve to be taken down a notch. their fucking obsession with power and glory….it’s sick and twisted, but i don’t think your titan king is any better. i don’t think you are any better.”

“it’s time that the gods fall. this is the only way, even if it isn’t perfect,” luke countered. his voice was firmer now as he absorbed your anger. your mother was the goddess of revenge, but you clearly didn't understand the sacrifices, pain, and blood that was required to make the world a better place.

luke just needed to convince you.

“we’ve talked about this for years,” he continued. “nothing is balanced! there’s no justice here, for anyone. we can build a better world where we don’t have to burn our scraps and throw ourselves at monsters to get attention. we can fight together like we always have. y/n, i love—”

“don’t,” you snapped. “don’t you fucking dare. you should have died on your quest.” your voice laced with venom. one hand gripping the knife you always kept on your belt. “that dragon should have fucking sliced through you and saved us all the trouble.”

something pricked in the back of his throat, down to his stomach.

“you don’t mean that.”

“i do,” you promised. “at least you would have died with all of us thinking you’re a hero instead of the traitor you really are.”

you grabbed your knife, took a fighting stance.

“i’m not going to fight you,” was all luke could say. he noticed your hand tremble, and you tightened the grip on your knife to prevent emotion from slipping through your invisible armor.

in that moment, you have could slice through luke, and it would hurt less than everything you just said, less than the murderous look you were giving him, like he was just another monster you wouldn’t think twice about sending to tartarus.

luke didn’t even have a chance to unsheathe his sword before you charged at him, but he quickly had you pinned to the ground, the tip of your own knife pointed at you. he hesitated. the blade pressed harder against your cheek than he intended, enough to break the skin and let a few droplets of dark crimson escape.

“please come with me,” he pleaded. you didn’t answer, but you did seem surprised by the softness of his voice.

a few moments passed, the celestial bronze still between you. luke waited for you to see his way, to yield to his proposal.

you didn’t. instead, you took advantage of the situation. you wrapped your leg around his and flipped your position. in the process, you regained possession of your knife. without the hesitation that held luke back, you sliced through his cheek, deep. luke bit his lip to suppress a groan, tasting blood. your gaze set his whole body on fire as he waited for your next move. that was when you glanced down at his camp necklace, and the new clay bead added to commemorate this summer.

a turquoise trident.

“percy told me he was on his way to see you,” you realized. “what did you do?”

luke didn’t answer. he knew then that a choice ran through your head.

and it stung, just a little, watching you sprint away through the trees in a last ditch effort to save percy’s life.

there was a small, pathetic part of luke that wanted you to choose him, even if it meant you would have plunged the knife into his chest.

#this is my baby fr #really feeling the tragic hero vibe down to my core #will prob do a part 2 from reader's POV!#ofc inspired by get him back! bc nemesis!reader....#percy jackson #pjo fanfic #pjo series #luke castellan #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x reader #pjo x reader #luke castellan angst #luke castellan imagine #percy jackson and the olympians #luke castellan smut #saf writes #Spotify

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aethelwyneleigh27 · 1 month

Text

Toothache

How does one go "You're Too Sweet For Me" to "My Baby's Sweet As Can Be"?

Synopsis: Simon Riley finds himself stuck in a situation, growing feelings for his roommate who's so annoyingly caring, domestic, sweet and too good for him. What happens when he let's himself indulge in the sweetness rather than cage himself in the bitter life he's been told is the only one he's deserving of and the only life he's known?

Apologies to this mess of a lyricfic, I couldn't help it even though this was supposed to be a relationship analysis..

MEN WRITTEN BY ANA HUANG ARE GONNA BE THE DEATH OF ME. Alright back to our original programmed schedule with Hozier. ALSO SURPRISE! THIS CONTAINS 3 HOZIER SONGS as an apology for not posting these past two weeks due to me enjoying holidays, reading, prom dress picking and wanting to stab myself because of life, there's the added bonus 👀

My CoD Masterlist

My Simon Riley x You Playlist

Also reader in this one had a lot of characterization, she's me fr, so AFAB?Reader, Fem!Reader, Short!Reader, Reader is VERY feminine with fashion, soft-girl-sunshine!Reader and Chubby?Reader. Y'all have no idea how hard it is to write without a personality and physical intimacy in romance, I tried but failed 😭

Warnings and Disclaimers: Mentions and details on sexual content ahead (is this considered smut? Idk anymore). Not detailed smut but vivid memories of sexual intercourse (especially the dialogue) with Simon. Again, this is a safe account for all ages because I'm not a MDNI acc, you are responsible for your own media consumption. DO NOT GO ON MY DMS, INBOX OR REPLY TO MY CONTENT TO TELL ME YOUR AGE. I don't need to know that and let's strive to not make each other uncomfortable. Mentions of questioning of religion or rather belief on afterlife??

Pink, bold and italic: Lyrics

Italic: recalling past events

Little snippet of an image of how I imagined he'd hold you, courtesy of the one and only @ave661

"It can't be said I'm an early bird, it's 10 o'clock before I say a word. Baby, I can never tell, how do you sleep so well?"

Simon Riley was never a man to live the life he was taught to in the military, it was out of habit for him to not leave his room until around noon. Then there was you, his roommate, he didn't exactly calculate how much it would affect his personal life to save money through rent by willingly letting someone within the same living space.

He'd find himself with not even a wink of sleep, hearing your footsteps through the thin walls, hearing the lock on the windows outside click open.

"You kept telling me to live right, to go to bed before the daylight. But then you wake up from the sunrise."

He'd always hear you, quite frankly it was like nagging on the constant.

"Simon you shouldn't do that, you'll hurt yourself"

"Simon please go get some rest"

"Simon.."

He'd swear he'd rip his own ears out every time his name falls from your lips from how sweet and chirpy it sounded and yet deafening silence would consume him whenever you aren't around.

"You don't gotta pretended, Baby, now and then. Don't you just wanna wake up dark as a lake? Smellin' lika bonfire, lost in the haze?"

Something about you makes it so tempting for Simon to give in, I mean it would be a one time thing, wouldn't it? So soft, so pliant, he set himself up for an addiction. It wasn't healthy, he knew this, he'd convince himself of the fact that he would end up hurting you.

Just too different, it repeated like a mantra in his head. He was bitter, brooding and didn't find any sense of pleasure in living. Why'd you think he has the job he chose? It's all he knew, till you skip your way into his life, giving him the sweetness he was deprived of.

"If you're drunk on life babe, I think it's great. But while in this world, I think I'll take my whiskey neat"

Drowning himself in alcohol, a trait Simon promised himself he wouldn't ever do when he was young, setting his glass down with a small thud from the wooden table. But what would the kid version of him know about life. He didn't have healthier options of coping with what seems to be his dilemma.

But then there you were, sweet little thing coming home at the late hour in that skimpy dress of yours. Revealing too much to the eyes of those who wish to have you for themselves with just one look. Where did you go that night?

"My coffee black in my bed at three, you're too sweet for me"

Desperately trying to keep himself awake and at bay from his thoughts of you. Drowning himself in now two cups of straight black coffee to help him focus.

It was odd, you got used to the scent, was strong with a lack of sweetness but it calmed you down knowing he was around.

How he'd corrupt you, he wanted to shatter that rose tinted glasses of yours to save you from himself because being with him would change you. Selfish but he doesn't want that, you were utter perfection..

Simon further delved into his feelings, what the fuck was wrong with him?

"I aim low. I aim true, and the ground's where I go. I work late where I'm free from the phone and the job gets done"

Grumbling, Simon walks back into the apartment in the middle of the night. You heard a thud, you come out of your bedroom, yawing from you incomplete sleep.

"Si..? Are you hurt? What happened?" You asked in a soft tone, careful not to agitate someone would could possibly be pissed off.

Simon stays silent, glaring at you as his eyes was only thing visible because of his balaclava. Your soft gaze intimidated him, because why would he feel that squeeze in his heart?

"But you worry some, I know but who wants to live forever, babe? You treat your mouth as if it's Heaven's gate. The rest of you like you're the TSA, I wish I could go along Babe, don't get me wrong..."

The only thing Simon heard was a sigh from you and nothing more, you walk up to him, each footstep feeling louder than that last.

Something Simon didn't expect you to do was wrap you arms around his waist, tiny thing you are that your head only goes up to his chest. Your body against his, basking in the warmth in contrast to the cold weather he had to deal with coming home.

"You know you're bright as the morning, as soft as the rain, pretty as a vine, as sweet as a grape. If you can sit in a barrel maybe I'll wait, until that day.."

You took care of him that night, to his reluctance and stubbornness. Despite refusing, he had no choice, he wouldn't want a soft thing like you on his ear the whole night till he agrees. You were persuasive in your own irritating way.

Sitting on the edge of the tub of the warm bath he's in, washcloth in hand. Touch was so gentle, why was it so soft? Why's it so warm? "It's the water you fucking idiot" his subconscious screaming at him. In denial.

Why is his heart beating so fast..? He wants to stab it to stop the feeling..

"I'd rather take my whiskey neat, my coffee black and my bed at three. You're too sweet for me"

Using both your hands this time around, one gently holding his chin with your fingers while the other wiping away at the eyeblack he had. Every scar on his face felt the graze of your finger.

The slow blinks, your eyes on his. Before any conscious thoughts consume Simon, he lifts his arms from the warm water and wraps them around you.

Your nightgown was now damp but you couldn't care less, now with the man you were pinning over, foreheads against the other.

"Si.." you softly whisper. That nickname will be the death of him, you'll be the death of him. He crashes his lips on yours, not wanting to let go till you both were panting. You were too fucking sweet, your lips, your skin, everything. He wanted a taste and he got it...

"My lover's got humor, she's the giggle at a funeral. Knows everybody's disapproval, I should've worshiped her sooner"

Another sleepless night wasn't uncommon for someone like Simon.. however this aching feeling wasn't, he doesn't know where it's from or what it's about. Not until he heard you in the kitchen, letting out a giggle even though you knew better.

"If the Heavens ever did speak, She's the last true mouthpiece. Every Sunday's getting more bleak. A fresh poison each week "We were born sick"

That sweet fucking voice, like the angels speaking to him themselves. "Oh- I'm sorry Si, did I wake you up?" You asked, turning around to the sound of his footsteps.

That tiny nightdress of yours, a reminder of the night you spent together, that morning you slept in his bed.

Lashes beautifully displayed on the delicate skin of your under eyes. Soft noises while your chest was peacefully moving up and down with every breath.

"She tells me, "Worship in the bedroom". The only Heaven I'll be sent to, is when I'm alone with you I was born sick, but I love it Command me to be well. A, Amen, Amen, Amen"

"Simon.. Ahh~" you moan out softly, your body writhing underneath him. It felt hot, sweaty despite the well ventilated room, so intimate from something that was supposed to be the farthest thing from domestic.

"Shhh, you can take it sunshine.. You don't want the neighbors to hear us, do you?" Simon whispers, callous hand covering your mouth with as little pressure possible, you whimper at his words.

Closing your eyes to lose yourself in the pleasure you've never felt before. Your body being worshiped with gentle hands and soft kisses that leave marks by the very same man who kept distancing himself from you, now he'd stop at nothing for your pleasure.

"Take me to church, I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies. I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife, offer me that deathless death. Good God, let me give you my life."

"Simon.. no more–" you whined. Scratching his back hard enough to leave marks without being aware, he'd always imagine what those pretty pink nails could do to him.

"Just one more, please sunshine.. you remember our safe word right?" Simon asks for you to nod softly, you didn't have energy to take anymore. "I told you I'll make you feel good, didn't I? So be a good girl for me and take it, hmm?"

Your eyes roll back at his praise, your legs shake with one after another wave of pleasure running through your body. This man was starved.. insatiable.. who would be able to resist such a request? Not you.

"If I'm a pagan of the good times, my lover's the sunlight to keep the Goddess on my side. She demands a sacrifice, drain the whole sea, get something shiny"

It took everything in Simon not to worship the ground you walked on that night, he wasn't trying very hard, was he? Because always.. at the end of the night, you're in his bed, his mind, his life.

Was it really a sin? To want something you don't deserve? Simon stayed up that whole night, not a wink of sleep while thinking of whether this arrangement should continue. Every bone and organ in his body telling him to be selfish, take what was something that wasn't his to take.

"Something meaty for the main course, that's a fine looking high horse. What you got in the stable? We've a lot of starving faithful that looks tasty, that looks plenty, this is hungry work"

Simon's gaze, never faltering on your sleeping figure that he refuses to go anywhere but his own arms. He tries to close his eye to compose himself, free himself from the emotions you emit from him.

His efforts were to no use, all he saw was the image of you, sweetly smiling, those doe eye staring right through his soul.

"No masters or kings when the ritual begins. There is no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin In the madness, in the soil of that sad earthly scene. Only then I am human, only then I am clean"

You were getting too close for your own good, Simon knew that, he'll be damned if he let's himself hurt you. So he does what any stupid man would do, avoid you like the plague. Did it mean nothing? Were you just some fling, never to be talked about again?

Fuck you Simon Riley, he made you feel loved in bed like no man ever has or ever will, completely ruining your chance of ever thinking of anything else and that was just a hook-up session? Maybe this one time you can let yourself be delusional, was there really something more? Only one way to find out.

"Oh, oh, Amen, Amen, Amen, Take me to church, I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies. I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife, offer me that deathless death. Good God, let me give you my life"

You caught him, fucking finally, after days of waiting and trying to get him at the perfect time. "Si.." you whispered softly, you didn't know where to start. He took a quick glance at you before looking back at what he was doing.

"Simon Riley, don't fucking ignore me. Not after everything that happened those nights" You said, it was stern but he needed to hear it. It made him stop, think about what had happened.

Before he could generate a response, "Why?" You asked. It was a vague question, why was he ignoring you? Why does he feel this way? Why does he love you yet refuse to act on it?

"Take me to church, I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies. I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife, offer me that deathless death. Good God, let me give you my life.."

"You don't deserve a man like me, you deserve one who is like you, optimistic, sweet, fucking beautiful and alive.. A man who's not damaged, scarred, has blood on his hands and haunted by his past. A man who's not afraid to show his love for you. A man who won't put his burdens on your shoulders and a man who will take care of you instead of the other way around. That's what you deserve and I can't give that"

Everything felt like it came to a stop, were you hearing that right?

"You have no idea how much you contradict yourself, Si. How are you so sure that you haven't given those things to me already? You might not be like me but "like me" isn't what I want.. I want you, every flaw, every beautiful scar. Not once before your silent treatment have you hurt me, it's frustrating yes, but you are worthy of that. Every struggle, frustration and mistake, every bit of your love is worth all of that. I want you to see that Si, your actual true worth rather than what some psychotic fucker decided to torture you with"

"Boys, workin' on empty. Is that the kinda way to face the burning heat? I just think about my baby, I'm so full of love I could barely eat"

"Si?"

"Yes, Sunshine?"

"I love you" You whispered after smothering him in a plethora of kisses. Never has anything made Simon melt more in his life than his wife say that. Doesn't matter how long it's been, how much the both of you have been through or how much frustration the both of you were going through..

It will always stay the same, the feeling those three words give him, like the first time, every moment feels that way. Familiar, finally.. Home.

"There's nothing sweeter than my baby I'd never want once from the cherry tree. 'Cause my baby's sweet as can be, she give me toothaches just from kissin' me"

He always thought about how unfaithfulness was such a struggle between some people, he thought about how good he has it constantly, reflecting back on what he used to have to how now this is something he never thought he'd have or deserve.

"When my time comes around, lay me gently in the cold, dark earth. No grave can hold my body down, I'll crawl home to her"

When a man finds himself in the verge of embracing death's arms, what causes the struggle? What causes him to fight that pain, to keep on going? Not once has this crossed Ghost's mind.

No. He's not Ghost, he's Simon. Your Simon.

And you're expecting your Simon home, fuck everything else, he'll give the biggest "fuck you" to death itself and crawl home to you because he'll be damned and he'll experience everything he has in his life over and over again just to hold you again.

"Boys, when my baby found me I was three days on a drunken sin, I woke with her walls around me. Nothin' in her room but an empty crib and I was burnin' up a fever I didn't care much how long I lived, but I swear I thought I dreamed her. She never asked me once about the wrong I did."

It should matter, the amount of blood on his hands. Not once did you judge him for it, what the fuck was wrong with you? Giving a monster such as him a bath like he was some innocent stray kitten, although this time around it was far more messy. The dried blood caked underneath his finger nails.

Flashing him a tired smile while you wiped off the blood that made the water in the tub a hue of brownish-red. Taking your hand in his, his lips brushing against your knuckles. The way you looked at him was enough to make him cry.

"When my time comes around, lay me gently in the cold, dark earth. No grave can hold my body down, I'll crawl home to her"

"Fucking get up" Simon repeats to himself, "She needs you, she loves you" despite how many times he's convinced himself you didn't due to the voice of his father in his head, it felt like a knife twisting in his heart imagining how it would be for you without him.

How much you cried the night he came home a day later, you told him yourself, practically sobbing while clutching your aching chest and him with your other arm how you weren't ready for Price to show up at your doorsteps holding Simon's belongings.

He won't let that happen.. he can't...

"My babe would never fret none, about what my hands and my body done. If the Lord don't forgive me, I'd still have my baby and my babe would have me"

Simon knew it, no one would ever love him like you do. No one would show him the same acceptance, devotion, care, concern and love. It wasn't healthy to be so attached dependently to someone in love.

He couldn't help it, it felt so right, everything with you did. Never a judgmental one, at least towards him. Always first to hold him, the first to ever take away the heavy guilt that weighed his heart and shoulders down after he'd done something he knows he'll go to hell for, if it's even real

"When I was kissing on my baby and she put her love down soft and sweet In the low lamplight I was free. Heaven and hell were words to me"

Every inch was kissed, not a part wasn't worshiped. "So fuckin' beautiful, so sweet. All for me, hmm?" Simon mumbled against your skin, suckling on the soft sweetness that he so claims. All hickeys, no bruises.

Fuck, he'd not just survive but thrive on just you. No other sustenance, your supple thighs he adores to cover in purple, your neck, your lips and your skin that he often compares to sugar syrup in his head.

"When my time comes around, lay me gently in the cold, dark earth. No grave can hold my body down I'll crawl home to her"

The question was, was it worth it to live an eternity of lifetimes filled with suffer to be with you in at least once? The only answer to ever graze Simon Riley's lips was the word "yes", the day that changes is the day that he'd be the biggest bull-shiter the world has ever known.

Simon opened the door to your shared home, "Daddy!" A loud squeal wakes him up from his dread of what he's seen on the field.

"How's my little sunshine been? 'Ave you been good to your momma while I was gone?" Simon asked, carrying the little girl in his arms.

"Yes! Momma said we'd go to the park tomorrow as a reward for me helping out!" Little one saying it so proudly, Simon couldn't help but smile, beaming with pride as his little girl grows up to be what he recognizes as a good person.

"Simon..? You're finally home, I missed you so much" You said, peeking out the laundry room. You walked out, quick to give him a peck on the lips.

"I love you Si.."

"I love you too Sunshine"

Also this is a very long fic.. I expect long feedback.. @connorsui 👀

Does this make sense? Idk anymore it's like almost midnight and I'm running on a few hours of sleep. GOD MY PROM DRESS LOOKS SO GOOD, I CAN'T WAIT.

Taglist: @wishesforyou @puff0o0 @simping4konig @simp4konig @blingblong55 @azereus @rustic-guitar-notes @shadofireshinobi @thelightdjinnofpalestine @09maruchan @anonymuslydumb @skeletalgoats @icarustypicalfall @ghosts-cyphera @fawnchives @connorsui @capuccino192 @miss-gms-and-the-rotten-womb @celestialhole @the-second-sage @starryylies @everlastingmoonlightsworld @keiva1000 @iexiam @drewsmusee @konigceo

Trying out new dividers as well by @anitalenia

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wileys-russo · 5 months

Text

the perfect tree II m.earps x reader

another little mearps christmas fic based around this request here

the perfect tree II m.earps x reader

"-yes mum i'll be there on the wednesday." you sighed, shuddering as a shiver ran down your spine as a singular icy drop of water slipped down your neck from one of the branches above you.

"-yes dad i'll be there on the tuesday. because i still have a few things to wrap up here!" mary groaned, catching herself as her footing slipped on the icy ground, the small trip worsening her already stressed mood.

"can we talk about this later? i'm trying to pick a tree mum." you requested withholding the urge to snap at her millions of questions, still trying to survey the trees around you for the 'one'.

"i'm a little busy right now, no please don't put mum on! i'm trying to pick a christmas tree up and she'll talk for-oh hi mum." mary paused and punched the air pulling a face as her mum began to ramble on.

"-no mum i will not be bringing someone with me." you sighed, exhausted at the never ending poking and prodding about your dating life. "that is none of your business!" you scoffed as your mum started to question if you were 'putting yourself out there enough'.

"yes i can get the turkey. mum its weeks away can we not talk about it a little closer to?" mary asked, eyes drawn to a tree a few up in the aisle as they widened happily, ignoring her mums ranting about how you can never be too prepared for christmas.

"-no mum i do not want to be set up with anyone, especially not one of your work friends daughters. please just leave me and my love life to be my own!" you moaned, kicking at a rock with a roll of your eyes, though they lit up seeing the perfect tree a few feet away.

you and mary both hummed at your parents words, half paying attention as unknowingly you both made a beeline for the same tree, on opposite sides of it you didn't even see one another coming, a barrage of trees keeping your intentions hidden.

"its perfect!" "thats just the one."

you jumped hearing another voice, peering around the tree and letting out a small yelp of shock as a girl who couldn't have been much older than you did the same, the two of you jolting in surprise.

"sorry, this ones taken." you smiled politely, one hand firmly holding onto one of the branches. "yeah it is, sorry." the girl gave you a smile of her own, hand holding onto a different branch as both of your eyes narrowed.

"mum i'll call you later." "mum i've gotta go."

with that your eyes narrowed even further, slipping your phone into your coat pockets. "i think you'll find i saw this one first." your tone was sweet but your eyes warned the girl off of arguing with you, though that did very little to derail her.

"i think you'll find that i touched it first, universal rule." she also smiled sweetly but her eyebrows remained furrowed together as your eyes locked in a stand off.

the girl seemed vaguely familiar but you couldn't quite pinpoint where from, she was head and shoulders taller than you and bundled up in layer on layer just like you were with the sudden bitter cold snap settling in.

feeling yet another few drops of icy water slip down the back of your neck you were snapped out of this strange stand off and reminded of your age, so with a shake of your head you removed your hand.

"you're right, you saw it first. merry christmas!" you gave her a much more sincere smile, internally hitting yourself for causing a fuss with a stranger over something so silly this time of year, you had a hundred other things to worry about.

"hey wait!" you frowned as she let go of the tree and instead grabbed your wrist, dropping it right away and mumbling an apology, cheeks flushed bright red though you weren't sure if it was embarrassment or from the cold.

"you take it. i don't know what came over me so be so immature over a tree, stressful time of year." the girl smiled apologetically, shoving her hands in her coat and rocking back and forth on her heels.

"tell me about it. but no you take it, really! season of giving right?" you assured her, and marys stomach did a flip at the way you continued to smile at her, a strange feeling settling over her which she assumed was the cause of her next move.

"help me decorate it then?"

you gave her a perplexed look at her statement. "sorry?" you weren't sure if you'd even heard her correctly. "god that came out so much creepier than i intended. i'm mary!" she beamed, holding out a gloved hand which you shook, giving her your own name in return.

"i meant to say would you like to help me decorate it then? it really is a perfect tree and since you've been so kind as to give it up i think the least i can do is give you the opportunity to make sure its treated and decorated as it deserves." mary smiled warmly, raising an eyebrow in your direction, waving over one of the workers over your shoulder.

"mm its a nice tree that definitely deserves to be treated right, but my parents raised me not to go home with strangers." you spared her a teasing grin, a little enamored at her response but also cautious around the fact you didn't know this girl from any other random on the street.

"smart parents. theres a little cafe just around the corner from here, how about we get a hot chocolate and some lunch and become not strangers?" mary gave you a wolfish grin, thanking the worker who cut down the tree and started to drag it away to be wrapped.

"are you asking me on a date?" you asked with an amused smile, never being one to shy away from asking somewhat blunt questions if it meant you got an honest answer.

"you know what yeah, yeah i am."

it would appear the two of you had a lot more in common than you thought as conversation flowed so much so that you were asked to leave the cafe since they were closing, both of you blushing bright red not having realised the time or that you'd been sitting here now for almost four and a half hours together.

exchanging numbers you'd agreed to meet up the following day, agreeing you now were no longer strangers you took up marys offer of helping her decorate the tree, the girl having helped you pick out your own shortly after hers was wrapped and ready to go.

which is how you found yourself now here in her home surrounded by boxes of decorations and ornaments, still a little in disbelief you'd only met her yesterday and here you were.

but mary seemed to have a knack for making you feel at ease in her company. the tall girl constantly cracking jokes and sprinkling in the occasional smooth compliment or awful pick up line to continue your laughter, a sound which was fast becoming like a drug for her.

"-oh now this is cute!" you laughed as you carefully pulled out the ornament from one of the many boxes littered around marys living room.

the ornament in question was clearly something of sentiment, a little frame made of popsicle sticks, glitter glue and tufts of tinsel with a photo of a gap toothed smiley young girl inside which you could only guess was mary herself.

"oh look you found the angel!" mary grinned taking it from you and pretending to put it on top of the tree as you nudged her with your shoulder. "you used to be adorable, what happened?" you frowned as mary gasped and instead held the frame up right by her face.

"scuse you. look at this! from cute to hot." she winked making you roll your eyes playfully as mary hung it on the tree, the two of you chattering away as christmas music softly played in the background.

"you have so many beautiful sentimental ornaments mary." you smiled softly, pulling out a red bauble that read marys first christmas, the gold lettering quite faded though still legible.

"what you mean your parents christmas trees growing up weren't shrines dedicated to you? what a crime." the girl tutted with a shake of her head.

"to my younger siblings maybe. i like to think i was the tester child, everything that went wrong with me they learned from and made sure not to repeat!" you sighed with a small chuckle, moving behind to the back of the tree, always stubborn in the fact that the entire tree should be decorated no matter if easily seen or not.

"but no shrines no. i used to make ornaments in school, but my mums always been very picky about the colour scheme of our entire house so anything that wasn't store bought and the right shade of coral or rose gold never made the cut." you shrugged, having grown up with christmas's done differently than most of your friends.

"oh i'm sorry! i didn't realise-" marys cheeks flushed bright pink and she started quickly to ramble out an apology which you were even faster to wave off.

"you don't need to be sorry, please! she's gotten less strict with it as we all grew up, though she still insists on throwing a huge christmas eve party for all of her friends where everyone seems to parades their kids and their accomplishments or careers all round like show ponies, as if they had anything to do with them!" you laughed with a shake of your head, marys face softening.

both of you were far to invested in one another to even hear the knocks at the front door. "oh look! mistletoe." mary grinned pulling out a small wad of plastic green and red and wiggling her eyebrows.

"sorry i don't kiss pretty not quite strangers until at least the second or third date!" you teased. "so you admit i'm pretty then!" mary beamed wiggling her body happily making you laugh again.

"mm and humble too." you squeezed her bicep and moved to hang something but not quite able to reach the branch as you felt mary move behind you, stretching out to help you as your heart admittedly hammered a little faster at the close proximity.

"mary! are ya deaf or what?" the two of you leapt away from one another as two younger girls came barreling into the living room, the taller of the two stepping right into an empty box and crashing to the floor.

"alessia!" mary groaned, rushing over to help her as the girl beside her doubled over with laughter and mary pulled the blonde up to her feet mumbling about how she was a walking safety hazard.

"oh sorry we didn't realise you had company." the blonde noticed you over marys shoulder and raised an eyebrow, the girl beside her ceasing her laughter as you shifted awkwardly under their narrowed eyes.

"whose this then?" the other girl questioned mary with a nod in your direction as if you weren't there. "what are you two doing here? what have i said about using my spare key to let yourselves in!" mary scolded, smacking the shorter of the two on the shoulder who whined and rubbed it with a scowl.

"we were going to watch the holiday and go look at lights, remember?" the blonde prompted as mary winced, having completely forgotten about the plans she'd made with her friends a few days ago, her mind lately being completely occupied by you.

"hey you don't need to go! you could stay?" mary noticed you grab your coat and spun around, staring at you hopefully as the two girls behind her continued to look you up and down as you shook your head.

"it's okay you have plans. i should get going anyway i've got a few things to do." you smiled sincerely, mary offering to walk you out and ignoring the unsubtle hushed questioning of who you were from the two girls who she ordered to sit down and wait for her.

"i'm really sorry about all this, i completely forgot about them coming over and-" "mary stop saying sorry, you apologize far too much for things you don't need to." you smiled with amusement, pulling your beanie on and stepping out of her front door, mary lingering in the doorway.

"can i see you again? soon?" she asked quickly, shoving her hands in the pockets of her hoodie as you nodded. "i'd like that. you've got my number, feel free to use it!" and with another dazzling smile sent her way, you were gone.

returning inside mary felt like she was floating, no one having had this sort of effect on her since she was a teenager, the keeper almost feeling juvenile for her apparent growing crush on you.

"mary you have some serious explaining to do!"

one year later.

"you ready for this?" you asked with a smile, the girl beside you nodding and leaning to sweetly peck your lips before shutting off the engine.

"god its fucking freezing." your teeth chattered as you stepped out of the car and opened the boot, grabbing out the bag of presents which the tall blonde was quick to take from you, silencing your protests with another kiss as you fixed her scarf and sent her a smile which still made her stomach do a flip.

"lets do this then."

hand in hand you made your way carefully up the perfectly shoveled driveway, pointing out to the girl beside you all the decorations and recounting their origins often with a roll of your eyes as she hung off your every word.

"no knocking?" "no point, they won't hear." you chuckled as you let yourself in, the door unlocked anyway as you felt the girl beside you grip your hand a little tighter and you lead her further inside the house and closer to the voices in the living room.

"darling! you made it. oh gosh and this must finally be-"

"merry christmas mum. and yes this is mary, my girlfriend."

#woso #woso community #mary earps x reader #mary earps #woso fanfics #woso blurbs #woso imagine #woso x reader #engwnt

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laneywrld · 9 days

Text

still a champion | Lewis Hamilton

request: hiiii i saw you said we can submit request do i was wondering if you could write something abt abu dhabi 21 where you and lewis have a daughter maybe like 2 years old and after the race lewis just is wrecked and he just wants to be comforted by his little family and everyone in the paddock is watching him and how he interacts with you and your daughter 😕 and he’s just trying not to show how upset he is and trying to be strong in front of you and your daughter but she can just tell so shes like "whats wrong daddy" and his heart just shatters 💔🥲 can you make it really sad but also really fluffy?i was watching that episode of dts the other day and it just made me wonder what it would be like if lewis had a little girl 🥹 sorry if this made no sense lol i tried my best to explain 😂

word count: 2.2k

warnings: none

As Lewis steps out of his car after the Abu Dhabi 2021 Grand Prix, a heavy weight settles over him, dragging at his shoulders and sapping the energy from his limbs. The taste of defeat is bitter on his tongue, a stark contrast to the sweet victory he had hoped to savor.

His heart, heavy with disappointment and frustration, is a testament to the fierce battle he waged. His mind, a whirlwind of emotions, is a reflection of the relentless determination he poured into each race. He fought tooth and nail for the championship, pouring every ounce of energy and determination into each race, only to come up short at the final hurdle.

The realization that victory had slipped through his fingers at the last moment gnaws at him like a relentless beast, tormenting him with thoughts of what could have been. He replays every moment of the race in his mind, searching for answers, for any sign of where it all went wrong.

But try as he might, he can't shake the feeling of profound loss that grips him, a sense of emptiness that echoes through his soul. He had poured his heart and soul into this season, sacrificed so much in pursuit of his dreams, only to fall agonizingly short in the end. He was cheated.

You hold onto your two-year-old daughter tightly; her excitement is palpable as she eagerly awaits her father's return from the race. Her innocent joy is, in a way, crushing, filling the air with a sense of anticipation.

As Lewis exits his car, you can see the disappointment etched on his face, a stark contrast to your daughter's radiant smile. She reaches out for him eagerly, her tiny hand outstretched, expecting to celebrate his victory with him.

You rock her on your hip as you watch the other drivers approach Lewis first. You decide to stand back and take the time to calm your daughter. "Hi, Mommy's girl," you hum at her; she looks up at you, her giant orbs mimicking her father's with that same radiant smile.

"Gonna see daddy," she states.

You coo, pressing your nose against hers, "Yeah, baby going to see daddy, we have to be very very calm okay no squealing like a piggy." You tease tickling her tummy, and she lets out her signature squeal. "Gotta give daddy a hug and a kiss, okay? Make him feel better. We gotta be extra extra nice to daddy."

Like all two-year-olds, she begins to ramble on and on, and you take a moment to observe your husband from across the garage.

As you watch Lewis accept condolences for his stolen race, you notice the subtle telltale signs of his inner turmoil. His knuckles are tight against his skin as he clenches them tightly, a desperate attempt to hide the emotions bubbling just beneath the surface.

You can see the tension in his jaw, the way his shoulders slump ever so slightly under the weight of disappointment. And as he murmurs his thanks, his voice is strained, betraying the effort it takes to keep his emotions in check.

Despite his best efforts to hide his pain, you can see the raw vulnerability in his eyes, the silent plea for understanding and empathy. And as you offer him a supportive nod, a silent gesture of solidarity, you can only hope that he knows he's not alone in his struggle.

Lewis stares into you, his eyes almost pleading for a sense of comfort and your hand instinctively clutches onto your daughter tightly as if you're preparing to comfort her as well as Lewis approaches.

His demeanor is somber and distant, and your heart sinks with a heavy weight of disappointment. You can see the turmoil in his eyes, the crushing weight of defeat bearing down on him like a suffocating blanket.

You try to shield your daughter from the harsh reality of the moment, plastering on a smile and gently guiding her toward her father. But deep down, you know that she's too young to understand the complexities of the race, too innocent to comprehend the depth of her father's distress.

As Lewis scoops her up into his arms, you can't help but feel a pang of sadness for him. Despite his best efforts to hide his disappointment, you know that he's hurting inside. And as you watch them embrace, you silently vow to be there for him in any way you can.

Lewis brings her to his chest, holding her to him like a teddy bear, his arms hold his daughter against him like she too could be stolen. Unlike other races , Lewis isn't happy and cheerful; he isn't smiling at his daughter or tossing her up into the air gleefully.

She may be young, but your daughter was wise beyond her age. "Daddy?" Her voice is a mere whisper and you watch Lewis face as he pulls frees her head from his neck.

"Yes, baby?" He asks, and his voice, too, is low and broken.

"What's wrong, Daddy?"

Lewis feels his resolve crumble as she speaks, her teary eyes resulting in his own. "Why are you sad?"

As Lewis looks to you for guidance, his eyes filled with uncertainty and sadness, you step in to save the day. Joining in on the embrace, you wrap your arms around both him and your two-year-old daughter, creating a cocoon of love and support.

In a gentle tone, you explain to your daughter as simply as you can, "Sweetheart, sometimes things don't go the way we want them to. Daddy's feeling a little sad because he lost the race unfairly." You hold her close, feeling her small body pressed against yours as you try to convey the complexity of the situation in a way that she can understand.

"But you know what?" you continue, your voice soft and reassuring.

"Daddy did his best, and that's what matters most. We're proud of him no matter what." You press a kiss to her forehead, feeling her tiny arms wrap around you in a comforting hug.

As you hold your family close, you know that while the disappointment of the race may linger, the love and support you share will always be there to carry you through even the toughest of times.

As Lewis watches you explain the situation to your daughter with such grace and compassion, he feels his heart swell with love and appreciation. In that moment, he's overwhelmed by a profound sense of gratitude for having you by his side, supporting him through the highs and lows of life.

Seeing the tenderness and care with which you handle the situation fills him with a deep sense of warmth and reassurance. He's reminded once again of the incredible bond that the three of you share, a bond that transcends any disappointment or setback.

In your embrace, Lewis finds solace and comfort, knowing that no matter what challenges may come their way, they'll face them together as a family. And as he looks at you with admiration and affection, he's reminded of just how lucky he is to have you by his side, guiding him with your unwavering love and support.

"But you know what always makes Daddy feel better, beautiful girl?"

She perks up, her eyes igniting in a sparkle.

"What is it, mamas?" You inquire with a dramatic, inquisitive look on your face.

"A kiss?" she guesses, and you lean forward, pressing your lips to her tiny nose.

"You're so smart baby, a kiss. They always make Daddy feel better," You turn to Lewis, a loving look on your face, "Isn't that right baby, you want some kisses?"

Lewis can't help the smile that graces his lips as you peer up at him. "Kisses would make me feel a whole lot better right now." He admits.

He lowers his head, allowing your daughter to reach his cheek and you lift onto your tip toes, pressing your own against his forehead. You speak life into him as you pull away and linger in his embrace.

As you gaze into Lewis's eyes, filled with a mixture of sadness and uncertainty, you feel an overwhelming surge of love and admiration for him. Gathering him close, you speak from the depths of your heart, "Lewis, I am so proud of you. You are a winner in every sense of the word, even if the score won't reflect that."

You hold Lewis close, your arms wrapped tightly around him, as you speak softly into his ear. "I'm so proud of you," you say, your voice filled with love and sincerity. "You're a winner, no matter what the scoreboard says. I love you more than words can express."

You gently stroke his back, feeling the tension slowly melt away under your touch. "You're so resilient," you continue, your voice steady and reassuring. "No matter the challenge, you always rise above it. I believe in you, Lewis. And I'll always be here to support you, no matter what."

In the hushed silence of the garage, all eyes are fixed on the tender moment unfolding between your family. The atmosphere is charged with a palpable sense of adoration and respect as the team members observe the heartfelt exchange.

There's a softness in their gazes as they witness the love and support shared between you, Lewis, and your daughter. It's a reminder of the human connections that transcend the fast-paced world of racing, a testament to the strength of family bonds in the face of adversity.

At that moment, the sound of engines and clattering tools fades into the background, replaced by the quiet reverence of those gathered around you. It's a scene that speaks volumes without a single word, a powerful reminder of the importance of love, resilience, and unity in the face of life's challenges.

And as the moment lingers, bathed in the soft glow of camaraderie and understanding, it's clear that your family's bond is a beacon of hope and inspiration for all who witness it.

As he stands on the podium, forced to watch his rival celebrate triumphally, a wave of raw emotion washes over him. He fights to keep the tears at bay, to maintain his composure in the face of defeat, but it's a losing battle.

The weight of disappointment hangs heavy on his shoulders as he watches the celebrations unfold around him. His heart is heavy with the knowledge that he came so close yet fell agonizingly short. As he reflects on the season that was, he knows that the pain of this loss will stay with him for a long time to come.

With a determined stride, Lewis hurries to escape the podium, his heart yearning for the comfort and solace of your embrace. As he navigates through the crowd, his only thought is of finding his place in your arms again, where he can seek refuge from the tumultuous night he's endured.

When he finally reaches you, he pulls you and your daughter close, enveloping you both in a tight embrace. The warmth of your bodies pressed together soothes his frayed nerves, easing the weight of the disappointment he carries.

With a sigh of relief, Lewis sinks into the comfort of your embrace, feeling the tension slowly melt away with each passing moment. He closes his eyes, reveling in the simple pleasure of being surrounded by the ones he loves most in the world.

In that moment, nothing else matters except the love and warmth shared between your family. And as you hold each other close, you find solace in the knowledge that together, you can weather any storm that comes your way.

"What'd you have to tell Daddy, baby?"

"You are still a cham-"

You giggle at your daughter, reaching up to pinch at her cheeks as Lewis holds her up in one arm, "champion." you whisper.

And she nods with squinted eyes, turning to face her daddy again. "You are still a champion."

Lewis coos, pressing a kiss to her cheek and squeezing you tighter into his side.

"My victor." You hum, "Let's get back to the hotel? Have a relaxing bath and some dinner?"

Lewis nods, his heart thumping no longer from disappointment but from love.

As Lewis basks in the warmth of your embrace, surrounded by the love of his family, he feels a profound sense of contentment wash over him. The burden of the lost title fades into the background, overshadowed by the overwhelming love he feels for you and your daughter.

He marvels at the way you effortlessly know how to be there for him, how you always seem to say all the right things to comfort and uplift him. And as he watches you pass on that same love and wisdom to your daughter, his heart swells with pride and gratitude.

In this moment, nestled together in the comfort of your bed, with your daughter snuggled between you, snores filling the room with a symphony of peaceful sounds, Lewis feels genuinely at peace. He gazes into your eyes, filled with tender love and appreciation, knowing that no matter what challenges may come their way, as long as he has you and your daughter by his side, he has everything he needs to find happiness and fulfillment.

short and cute request!

My requests are still open. You can leave it in my asks, and I'll get to writing it as soon as I can. 🫶🏽

#lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton imagine #black reader friendly #sir lewis hamilton #formula 1 #laneywrldrequests #laneywrld

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mossgh0st · 1 month

Text

As If It’s Heaven’s Gate (Levi Ackerman x Reader)

Summary | Levi is caught in a dark place following the battle of heaven and earth. Believing he’s undeserving of life’s sweetness, he deprives himself until you show up on his doorstep. Inspired by and based on Too Sweet by Hozier.

Content | Angst, Fluff. Sort of slow burn? No use of y/n. Levi is a grump, reader is shorter than him. Brief mentions of off-screen sex. Italics are song lyrics that each section is inspired by.

Pairings | Levi/Reader. Mentions of Jean/Pieck.

Notes | As soon as I heard Too Sweet, I knew I needed to write about Levi. Header is from ‘kii on Pinterest. Hope you enjoy!

——————————————————————————

It can’t be said I’m an early bird, it’s 10 o’clock before I say a word. Baby, I can never tell, how do you sleep so well?

After the war, Levi becomes a creature of the night. His meticulous bedtime routine and eves of deep, restful slumber have become wrought with nightmares, teeming with the faces of everyone he’s ever loved having succumbed to their bitter ends. He’s forgone the tea, a relic of a previous era; he now prefers an amber liquid that stings on the way down. A balm that numbs, heavy bottomed glass filled only a quarter of the way. When he ventures beyond the confines of his home, he asks for the tippy top of the top shelf - Levi always takes his whiskey neat.

You know you don’t gotta pretend. Baby, now and then, don’t you just wanna wake up, dark as a lake, smelling like a bonfire, lost in a haze?

Some days, he’s lucky if he retires before the sunrise peeks over the hills and pulls itself up to the high point of the sky. Letters go unanswered, bookshelves less sparse as he fills the majority of his time with thick, leather-bound tomes. The newspaper has becomes the perfect kindling, headlines boasting peace negotiations melt and turn runny with the heat of the blaze. When Levi wakes each hazy afternoon, it’s with the lingering scent of bonfire strung about the atmosphere. His once grey eyes have turned deep, a color so sharpened it resembles the water on a lake just before the claps of thunder rumble and bring down swells of rain.

But while in this world, I think I’ll take my whiskey neat. My coffee black and my bed at three.

He knows he won’t live forever. He’s not at all interested. At this point, he’s pleading for the same sweet release from the world he afforded Erwin. Levi has spent so much time dwelling in the night, the darkness is threatening to become him. Then, you show up, one damp afternoon. Modest sundress, two small bags, a green ribbon tying back your hair. The glow you emanate is too much for him. He wants to be angry, filled with a rage so intense it convinces you to leave running in the midst of the spring storm, ribbon flying behind you. The pit in his stomach solidifies when he can’t bring himself to be irate, softened by the cold flush of your cheeks and the sheepishness of your smile as you stand, delicate in his doorway.

You’re too sweet for me, you’re too sweet for me.

At first, your presence does nothing to alter his routine. You rise with the sun, the first blinks of morning are spent brewing a sweet coffee in his kitchen, silent save the chattering of the birds. The dregs of his previous evening’s fire catching in the wind and mingling with the scent of bitter coffee grounds. Levi rises long after the sun has hit it’s peak, emerging in loose slacks and a half undone shirt, the sleeves rolled. You cross paths only briefly, while he pours his glass of amber whiskey and you prepare your cup of evening tea. A silent understanding has occurred - you can stay, if you don’t intervene. So you read in the overgrown garden, take your coffee with milk and two sugars, visit the bookstore, the seamstress down the block from the town’s main square, and worry about him only when you are tipping over the ledge into sleep.

But who wants to live forever, babe? You treat your mouth as if it's Heaven's gate.

The first change is subtle: tea leaves are disappearing faster than you’re brewing them; you know he’s dipping into the store after you retire each evening. Then, when the usual night terrors creep up again, plaguing your mind and leaving your lungs in a vice grip, the second change occurs. Levi waking and comforting you after a string of particularly violent dreams, a different sort of understanding passes when he murmurs, “I still see them, too.” You find him in your bed then, most mornings. Your routines still separate, bodies occupying different halves of the day for weeks. Coffee, bookstore, seamstress, reading, garden. It continues on, life in your solitary bubbles, except the brief overlapping in the early morning when your breaths mingle in the same space between your sleeping forms.

I wish that I could go along, babe, don't get me wrong.

The paradigm shifts once more when he begins to rouse the same time as you. A brief wave of shame washes over you as you realize he’s already awake, you cannot observe his closed eyes and smoothed forehead, the lines of his face set in peace, the soft parting of his lips, or the slow rise of his chest beneath the thin blankets. That morning, you show him how to make the coffee, and he grumbles after burning the first pot, squinting in the bright light. He notices you smiling out of the corner of his eye and something rattles around in his chest. You add three sugars to your cup. He accompanies you to both the bookstore and the seamstress, his silent presence a new comfort. Levi wants to ask why you chose him, chose his home, when there are happier and more accommodating friends, current or former members of the 104th. There’s no doubt in his mind that you’d be better off with someone like Mikasa, in her quiet cottage by the sea. Even Jean and Pieck, or hell, Reiner and his family.

You're bright as the morning, as soft as the rain.

Within a few months, Levi’s world has changed. It’s brighter, fuzzy around the edges. There’s a few sundresses in the closet of his room, a growing stack of books on his dresser. A knit shawl is draped over the chair in the living room; and the guest bed hasn’t been used in several weeks. He lets her brew the coffee in the morning, his palate now well suited for the taste, and takes chrysanthemum tea in the evenings. The garden has a bench now, front row to the beds of geranium, lavender, and snapdragon. When you smile at him through the kitchen window, an understanding dawns on him, an awakening blooms inside of him. He’s seen this look before, many times; over a shared water jug during an expedition, sleepy and exhausted over a fire surrounded by their comrades, during meetings with military leadership, after the battle of heaven and earth, and on the day you were assigned to his squad. You would never go to Mikasa’s, or to Jean and Pieck, even Reiner, or anyone else. He would never let you.

Pretty as a vine, as sweet as a grape.

The first touch of morning is chill, a breeze dancing its way through the open window, sheet gathered at his waist as Levi rouses from sleep. He hears your hums from the kitchen and swings his feet over the bed. He’s drawn to you like bees are to flowers, cloying aroma and sunlight and all things good. Forgoing the tie of his robe, he begins purposeful strides down the hall. Then, you’re there, back turned and hair down. The hem of your pale nightgown sways as you wait for the pour of coffee, glowing in the sunrise, hands over your upper arms to stave off the late summer air. You’re lost in a daydream. Levi comes to stand behind you, listening to the melody you hum quietly. The deprecating, nagging voice he contends with daily in his mind is quieted - it’s just you now; always you.

If you could sit in a barrel, maybe I’d wait.

It’s quiet when he slides an arm around your waist, body warm and flushed. It’s quiet when you turn in his hold, meeting his grey gaze with lingering surprise and pink cheeks. It’s quiet as he pulls you in closer still, hands coming up to rest on his chest. Quiet, as Levi brushes his forehead against yours, eyes closed, fingers flexing in their hold of you. Completely silent, as he tilts your chin up, up, up, and brushes his lips with yours. The taste of you nothing like he had ever dreamed, and oh, had he dreamed. When you push up onto your toes to deepen the pressure, sigh into his mouth, his black bitter heart nearly bursts through his chest.

Until that day…

And when he takes you shortly after, coffee long forgotten, limbs so tangled it’s near impossible to discern where you end and Levi begins, lips parted and dewy with sweat and each other; he can only think of the sweetness this life has afforded him in you, how the bitterness of his past has made way for this belonging.. well. There’s truly no such thing as too sweet, is there?

#levi aot #captain levi #levi heichou #levi x reader #levi attack on titan #levi x you #levi ackerman #levi x y/n #levi fanfiction #levi blurb #levi oneshot #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi Ackerman oneshot #aot oneshots #attack on titan oneshot #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman x y/n #user!moss writes

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radioisntdead · 1 month

Text

Too sweet

Alastor x gn reader,

Warnings!!

Mild ooc, reader is dessert themed also kinda imagining they have eyes that resemble 1930's animation but that's just me, casual backstory drop in the middle that's just never brought up again, death, pacing is a little off, Alastor is prepared with angelic steel this time! It does not help whatsoever!

Song: Too sweet

It wasn't a secret that Alastor strongly disliked sweet things, it wasn't a complete hatred but he wouldn't willingly eat any, he preferred bitter things.

It can't be said I'm an early bird

You were as sweet as pure sugar, with that oh so charming smile of yours, your big ol' cartoony eyes, eccentric and positive attitude, not to mention you were quite literally dessert themed, Cake themed outfits, frosted purses, phone case adorned with spackled frosting, sprinkles and charms.

It's ten o'clock before I say a word

You were the most recent addition to the hotel, a few of the hotel's residents didn't quite understand how someone as sweet as you could've ended up in hell, it was theorized that maybe it was an act, a honey coated trap that would lead to the hotel demise or something.

Baby, I can never tell

That was thrown out rather quickly when you kept the same sweetheart persona even when alone, it was just how you were.

How do you sleep so well?

It was concerning to a certain few hotel residents when it was discovered that you had a thing for the Radio demon,

The way your eyes would linger on him for a moment too long, the way you would gaze at him love evident in your eyes.

You keep telling me to live right

Husk gave you a warning one night at the bar, you were sipping on a drink that had more sugar then any drink should, he was cleaning up the bar.

"Look kid, Alastor is a bad decision, this won't end well for you."

"I know." You had responded, twirling around that sickly sweet drink of yours

You weren't naive like your personality seemed to make people think, you knew Alastor was a bad idea, bad news, he was a cannibalistic murderer for heaven's sake!

To go to bed before the daylight

But it was alright to have a small crush that you wouldn't act on, it'd pass eventually but for now it wasn't bad to fantasize about dancing with him, cooking together or about doing something unholy like handholding! Nothing would become of it, you didn't have a good history with relationships anyways.

But then you wake up for the sunrise

Charlie was supportive of your little crush, she had found out about it after accidentally overhearing you drunkenly tell Angel Dust about it, that sugary little drink really did a number on you.

She decided she would try to push you and Alastor together, gently, She was such a great wingman!

After all Alastor tolerated you more than anyone else in the hotel so that's a indication that you might have a chance right? A truly slim one but a chance nonetheless!

You know you don't gotta pretend, baby, now and then

When Alastor began enjoying your company a little too much for his liking it was like he, from his prospective had been thrown into a horror movie and trapped with little to no way out.

He enjoyed some of your antics and reactions.

Don't you just wanna wake up, dark as a lake?

You were helpful around the hotel, helping out with advertising, you'd proofread scripts he had written for his radio broadcast, every time you went out for a treat you brought back some type of pastry or snack for the hotel residents, in particular you'd travel all the way to cannibal town to pick up something for Alastor, you didn't have too, but you did.

Smelling like a bonfire, lost in a haze?

As time went on the feelings didn't fade, especially since Charlie heavily suggested that the two of you should work together on hotel related things, and that pinwheeled into the two of you spending more time together, getting closer, and eventually you began to avoid Alastor, you had a tendency to ditch the people you were fond of in a way usually in a cruel fashion, you didn't mean too, truly! But you did and you didn't want to risk it with Alastor for his sake and yours.

If you're drunk on life, babe, I think it's great

You were a known partier back in your day, you died back in the heights of the roaring twenties where you had the money and privileges to go to lavish parties where anyone who was anyone could attend much like the parties Gatsby held in the great Gatsby, you lived what some folks thought the roaring twenties were all about, Flappers, speakeasies, parties and short-lived prosperity.

You were in your twenties, rebellious and reckless, drinking any drink given to you, playing around with people's emotions with those sickly sweet words of yours, taking whatever substance you were given, and a year before the stock market crash, you were found dead on the dancefloor poisoned by a former darling of yours who didn't like that you had left them because things were getting 'too serious' for you.

You didn't handle death well, and in order to keep at least some of your sanity you went to hurling yourself onto the hellish party scene, frequenting speakeasies, trying to keep some sense of what you knew, repeating harmful cycles, but you couldn't do it forever.

And so you gave up the party scene around the mid 40's, burning bridges and leaving behind many scorned people behind.

You were more unstable back then, but you had improved, at least you thought you did taking up the sweet attitude by a couple notches, switching from drinking alcohol each day to drinking sweet smoothies or milkshakes.

You cleaned up your act and you were continuing to keep it clean especially as you checked into the hotel.

No one there knew about your track record and you would like to keep it that way.

But while in this world

The avoidance didn't last long since Alastor cornered you asking why and you blabbered out your feelings in one big ramble.

And that was that.

I think I'll take my whiskey neat

Charlie was ecstatic to learn that you and Alastor had gotten together, Others were concerned particularly Husk, his bets were that either Alastor would end up owning your soul, you'd become just as twisted as Al or you'd end up dead.

None of them would end well for you.

My coffee black and my bed at three

The two of you were opposites, while he took his coffee black and bitter you loaded yours up with milk, sugar and whatever other toppings you wished, when he stayed awake for multiple days in end you snoozed away at night, when he was threatening someone who was messing with the hotel you were trying to defuse the situation with sweet words.

You're too sweet for me

Alastor didn't like sweet things, but he didn't mind you and your sugary sweetness, infact you could say he was growing a little bit of a sweet tooth.

Just the sight of your sweet little smile was enough to cause a slight ache in his heart and that fact that you could be called his now was just wonderful!

You're too sweet for me

He could see himself getting used to all this sweetness, he just needed to make sure no one knew that.

I take my whiskey neat

You smiled, listening intently and sipping on your sweet alcoholic drink while Alastor recounted an encounter he had, a glass of whiskey in his hand whooshing around as he spoke.

My coffee black and my bed at three

It was after a hotel game night mixed with alcohol, the two of you were tired and intoxicated, you were a giggly drunk, laughing at the most mundane things, Alastor was escorting you to your room and much to his surprise it was a challenge as you would stop every few steps to laugh at how the crack in the wall looked like a giraffe or how that stain on the carpet looked like a birthday cake!

You're too sweet for me

By the time he had finally gotten you to your room he was exhausted, you kicked off your shoes leaving them on your floor as you dived into your bed, reveling in the comfortable blankets.

Alastor rolled his eyes as he entered your room leaning down to pick up your discarded shoes to properly put them away in your woredrob, he intended to leave to his own room but you reached out your arms to him making grabby hands, he walked over and leaned in to see what you wanted only for you to suddenly grab him, pulling him down and covering him in the blankets before promptly passing out with your arm wrapped around one of his.

You're too sweet for me

He was going to get up, he truly was but he hadn't slept in hell knows how many days now, and the bed was warm, before he knew it his eyelids were drooped. His shadow thankfully decided to close the door to your room.

I aim low, I aim true and the ground's where I go

The next morning he was greeted by you humming while gently petting his fluffy ears, he wasn't sure you knew he was awake at that point, but he rather liked having his ears petted, at least by you and it wouldn't hurt to savor this moment for just a few more minutes before the two of you would have to deal with the duties that the day held for you.

I work late where I'm free from the phone, and the job gets done

Alastor preferred to have his radio broadcast aired in the morning but sometimes he wouldn't get the chance too, [Maybe he indulged a little too much in his morning time with you]

He would air around eight pm and sometimes you would hang around his tower, doing whatever activity you had brought along until he was done and the two of you would walk back to the hotel, maybe grabbing a bite to eat.

But you worry some, I know

Other nights you would turn on the radio in his room and curl up in a blanket on the leather chair he had, closing your eyes and listening to his oddly soothing voice.

But who wants to live forever, babe?

Alastor didn't particularly believe that heavens gates would accept sinners even if they were redeemed, but nothing is impossible and he, although he doubted it, could be wrong and the Hazbin hotel could be a success in redeeming sinners left and right and you were one of the residents checked in for redemption.

You treat your mouth as if it's Heaven's gate

Alastor moved a piece of your hair away from your face, careful not to disturb your sleeping position on his chair, he could admit to himself that he had gotten attached to you, and he couldn't just have his darling little partner leave him behind to fraternize with the winners above now could he?

The rest of you like you're the TSA

He picked you up from the chair and moved you over to his bed, tucking you in.

If anyone in this damned place could get redeemed it was you.

I wish that I could go along, babe, don't get me wrong

And Alastor, well he wasn't the type to be looking for redemption or redeemed, he was even less of the type to blindly follow someone somewhere even if it was you.

He did wish he could see his mother who obviously was in heaven but that simply just wasn't in the cards for him, it was tragic but he did murder people, he died while burying a body after all!

You know, you're bright as the morning, as soft as the rain

Alastor cut into the dead deer he had just sat on his table, he was about to take a bite when he caught a glimpse of you shooting up from his bed looking around in hasty panic before you visibly calmed at the sight of him, with one of your signature surgery sweet smiles that caused swirls in his heart you bid him a good morning.

Pretty as a vine, as sweet as a grape

Alastor strolled into the hotel after a day of errands, only to see everyone cluttered together looking at something you were holding that he couldn't see, you noticed him and waved him over, grinning as you held the red creature in your arms that looked strikingly like Alastor, you went on a small tangent about how you had found the little guy while taking a stroll around the hotel.

If you can sit in a barrel, maybe I'll wait

In all honesty he wanted to hurl the creature out the window but you were stubborn in saying that the two of you should keep the catlike creature immediately dubbing it as your son much to Alastor's displeasure.

Until that day

He and the little creature begun a little rivalry, whenever he had his arm around you that thing would try and headbutt it off.

On the plus side you had taken to dressing the little one up in ridiculous little outfits, usually to match you or Alastor, from dessert themed outfits to Alastor's signature suit.

The creature did not like being dressed the majority of the time as the little thing felt it was taken less seriously thanks to the outfits.

It was right, when the little one would strut around the hotel he was usually awe'd over by Charlie and Sir Pentious.

I'd rather take my whiskey neat

Time flew by as extermination day drew closer, preparing became the focus in the hotel, coating weapons in angelic steel, in particular you had a axe that you covered with dessert themed charms finding it funny, because imagine getting taken out with a dessert themed axe of all things!

My coffee black and my bed at three

You had just barely convinced Alastor to prepare to use an angelic weapon, borderline begging him to do so, you didn't know what you'd do if he got taken out or injured because he was too prideful and foolish to use angelic steel in some way.

You're too sweet for me

He just couldn't say no to you when you looked at him with those cartoonish eyes that reminded him of 1930's animation and surgery sweet smile!

You're too sweet for me

It was the night before extermination, everyone was ready, living this night as if they were going to die tomorrow, which they probably will but they had something to fight for! You indulged on the classic surgery sweet drink that you always got, sipping on it as Niffty declared Alastor king roach leading to you chuckling.

I take my whiskey neat

It was the time where everyone retired, laying in bed you gently brushed a hand through his awful haircut, the two of you chatted about what could happen tomorrow and what the two of you would do afterwards because obviously the two of you didn't intend on dying.

You let out a yawn, deciding to call it a night you gave Alastor a light peck before laying your head on your pillow.

My coffee black and my bed at three

Alastor channeled his inner Edward Cullen and watched you sleep, blanket curled around you, that little creature was snoozing by you, dressed in a onesie that you had obviously put on him.

He didn't say it often, or at all honesty but he adored you, the only sweet thing he would willingly indulge in.

He would do anything to protect you, you would survive the extermination, he would make sure of it.

You're too sweet for me

He, infact did not make sure of it.

It was during his little encounter with Adam, the first man had gone to attack him but you had ran in, taking the hit for Alastor.

Resulting in a large gash in your stomach, blood pooled around you as Alastor got a few hits on Adam before turning to you, clutching your body as shadows overtook the two of you, taking you to his radio tower.

You're too sweet for me

Alastor scrambled, his usual composed self gone as you were actively bleeding out, he tried to stop the bleeding but you had already lost too much.

I take my whiskey neat

He held you as he demanded to know why the hell you would jump Infront of him.

You simply smiled, lifting your hand to touch his face, you said three simple words that would be your last, the last thing you saw was Alastor's strained smile.

My coffee black and my bed at three

Husk was right, it would end one of three ways, either Alastor ended up with your soul, you became just as twisted or you died.

And many died that day, the hazbin hotel lost two of its residents, Sir Pentious and you.

Sir Pentious had died for his friends and you had died for the person you loved, sacrifices that landed the two of you into heaven.

You're too sweet for me

Alastor sat in his newly built radio tower, that damned creature that you had brought by his side.

He had managed to survive the hotel collapsing, good for him, unfortunately the person that brought him there didn't survive, and now he was stuck with Alastor, but maybe that wasn't such a bad thing anymore.

You're too sweet for me

Alastor despised sweet things, they were filled with sickly sweet sugar that would leave cavities behind in it's wake, even after being brushed away it would still leave some damage like you did, you left him like you had left others before only this time it was unwillingly, you were the sweetest thing he'd ever known, he made a unfortunately decision to get attached to you and now he paid the consequences, he would be unintentionally haunted by you, reminded of you every time he saw the portrait they hung of you in the hotel along with Sir Pentious or even with the cat that looked like him.

He wouldn't be making the mistake of falling for someone again that was for sure.

It's not like he could if he wanted to anyways.

Good evening folks! I hope you enjoyed this! I wrote it all in one day, I didn't write it because I got tired but the reader is totally fighting people to go back to Alastor, just "I JUST DIED AFTER TELLING HIM I LOVED HIM, THAT IS TRAUMATIZING"

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #alastor x reader #alastor x you #hazbin alastor x you #hazbin alastor x reader

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gavisfanta · 3 months

Text

THE NEWSPAPER - PEDRI

summary: you let the hate get to you

warnings: none

Breakups can be bitter.

Walking past a person you used to hug, kiss, and touch freely, is a surreal feeling.

Suddenly what was once natural is now weird. If Pedri would walk over to you now and kiss your forehead, everyone would look at him like he's insane.

5 months ago, he walked over to you, kissed you on your lips and everyone would look at the two of you.

"How sweet they are" Some people would say. They were jealous and their only goal was to make you two break up.

Some of them loved your relationship, some of them didn't.

You didn't care much about what the media said,

or did you?

3 months earlier

"She's my girlfriend and I'm happy that she's here and I don't have to hide her anymore." Pedri said as he looked at the interviewer in front of him.

"Will she always come to support you or was this just a one-time thing to show her off?" The interviewer asked him again and he laughed a bit while he scratched his jawline.

"She supports me from home too, not only from here, I have a better feeling already when I know that she thinks of me. It wasn't just a one-time thing tho." Pedri answered again and the interviewer nodded her head.

"Gracias Pedri, have a nice night." She said and Pedri nodded his head as he flashed her a smile.

You looked at him while your whole face was covered in a wide grin. "You're so sweet." You opened up your arms for him and he walked into them. He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you closer.

"Gotta take every opportunity to show off my amazing girlfriend no?" Pedri asked as he pulled away to look at you and then leaned in for a kiss.

"You're right, now go change so we can go home." Pedri laughed as soon as you pushed him towards the tunnel.

"That was sweet, I've never seen him like this." Sira came over to you and wrapped her arm around your shoulders to pull you closer.

"Really?" You asked, not really wanting to believe her. It was too good to be true.

"Yeah, he's a completely different person ever since, it's incredible," Sira said fascinated, the two of you began walking towards the exit as the stadium started to get empty.

As you waited for Pedri patiently in your car, you were scrolling through instagram until you saw a post from the spanish newspaper.

"Hey, I'm sorry I took so long, I just had to talk to Luis-" Pedri began as he sat into the car but then stopped immediately after he saw how focused you were on your phone.

"What are you reading?" He snatched the phone away from you and you tried to grab it but he held you back.

After he read everything he immediately blockdd the account from your phone. "Don't read this shit, you know they'll use everything against me and you. But I love you you're no distraction to me, remember that, I love you." Pedri gave you back your phone and leaned closer to you.

"Yeah, don't worry about it, I don't care." You mumbled and he gave you a reassuring look before leaning in to kiss you.

The kiss was long and passionate and for a moment you forgot what you just read 20 seconds ago.

Pedri had that magic where he'd make you forget things that were on your mind. He had that special aura which you could feel even if you just looked at him.

His presence was noticeable in every room he stepped foot in. He showed you what true love really is and how it feels like.

In the end you knew that you loved to love him.

For Pedri it was the same, he adored every single thing you did. When you'd fall asleep first he'd stay up for hours just watching you sleep.

Every single detail about you when you sleep is engraved into his brain. The way your breathing slows down, the way your eyes twitch sometimes, and the way you move when you're uncomfortable.

However, it didn't stop, that wasn't the only article written about you, Pedri always told you: "It's the press, they'll find something else in a couple of days, don't worry" But it didn't stop.

"Pedri's girlfriend is a bad influence for his playing style"

"Could the youngster be too distracted to play football?"

"Teenage love for footballers is the most dangerous thing."

You tried so hard to ignore everything but it just seemed to follow you, when you scrolled on instagram, trying to take your mind off of some things, it was there.

"Pedri's girlfriend" Without anyone really knowing you, they judged you. After spain has been eliminated from the world cup the noise just calmed down a bit. That was until you posted on your Instagram to let everyone know that you supported Pedri and will forever support him.

The comments were filled with hate and accusations towards you, that it was your fault that Pedri wasn't playing at his top level.

Pedri spoke about it with Xavi and he reassured his coach that he wasn't distracted. "Just stay calm, it'll pass." Pedri hugged you and you shook your head.

"It has been going on for two months. Why would people accuse me of something I never even spoke about?" You asked him, at this point tears in your eyes.

You didn't understand why people were hating you.

You then looked at a tiktok from a fan of Pedri and read the comments below it. "If I was her, I'd break up with him, no way that she's getting this much hate for being in love."

You turned off your phone and stared into the nothingness for 5 minutes after you read that. If you would break up with him, you'd be free from the press, it wouldn't be your fault anymore if Pedri made a bad pass.

So the following day when Pedri came home from an away game you sat down with him.

"Pedri, we need to talk." Pedris head shot up immediately and he looked at you, waiting patiently for you to speak up.

"I think it's better if we part ways." You told him, your hands shaking a bit as his eyes widen.

"Amor, How would that be better?" Pedri asked as he took your hand in his.

"It's just so overwhelming that everyone always blames me for every bad pass you make. It's like everyone waited for someone to blame." You told him and he looked at the floor, he seemed zoned out.

"I can talk to a reporter about it, that they should stop, I can make it stop. Just please don't-" You cut him off.

"No, don't, I don't want you to talk about it because then everyone would get mad at you, so just- let's just part ways. I can't do this any longer, I'm sorry seriously." You told him and he shook his head.

"No, we're gonna find a solution, please, Amor don't panic now, stay calm and we're gonna find a solution." Pedri held your hand in his and drew circles on the back of your hand.

"Pedri, I can't please, just- I don't want to." Your breathing started to speed up and he noticed. He immediately pulled you into a hug and then kisses your cheek.

"I wont let you break up with me, we're gonna find a solution. I promise." Pedri whispered in your ear and you felt your breathing calm down and your eyes stopped watering.

"Please, please find a solution."

3 days later

"It's really ashaming of what the press is doing, if I play a wrong pass are you gonna blame my girlfriend? How would she have anything to do with that? If I make a mistake it was because I kept looking at her? Whoever says that has never stepped foot into a filled stadium with people. You spin around and walk around so much that in the end you forget where the bench even is." Pedri inhaled sharply. "I'd just like to kindly request everyone to stop writing about my girlfriend. I take all responsibility for my bad playstyle the last few weeks and it's entirely my fault. Just please stop the messages because if you keep going, I wont respect you as a football fan. Thank you."

You smiled as you looked at your boyfriend stand up from the table and walk away from the press conference.

After all, he promised.

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waywardxwords · 7 months

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The Fix - Part 1

Summary: Everyone has a past, but yours seemed to haunt you. You've tried to move forward with a normal life, but the day comes when that's not possible anymore. When Sheriff Beau Arlen enters your life, you're certain he is going to judge you just like everyone else in town does. But something about Beau is different.

Pairing: Beau Arlen x Female Reader (Reader has a daughter in this story; also--slow-ish burn)

Warnings: Brief mention of child abduction, very brief mention of domestic violence (non-descriptive), slow burn

Word Count: ~1.5k (This is meant to be a little shorter, but it will pick up as we get into the story!)

The sun had started to settle just behind the Montana mountains as you took a sip from the steaming cup of tea in your hands. The warmth from the cup sent a pleasant shudder over you as you took a moment to enjoy the peace and quiet. The sound of tires upon your gravel drive interrupted the silence and made you inwardly groan. You recognized the truck almost instantly.

You stayed planted on your rocking chair, but offered a small smile as he opened the car door.

“Sheriff,” you greeted blandly. While you would never admit it out loud, your heart couldn’t help but flutter when you were graced with Sheriff Beau Arlen’s presence. The man looked like he belonged on the cover of GQ, for God’s sake. But you knew better than that.

“How’s it goin’, ma’am?” And then there was that sweet, sexy Texas drawl. God, you loved Texan men. But you’d do everything in your power to not let him know that.

“Well, it was going well, ‘til I heard that truck pull up,” your lips were tightened in a straight line and eyebrows raised in his direction.

He chuckled softly as he put his hands in his front denim pockets. “I hear ya,” he sighed. After a moment, he continued. “Where’s he at, darlin’?” He somehow managed a sympathetic look, but you couldn’t help but feel like it was covered in pity. He felt bad for you—hell, this whole town did. You heard the rumblings while you were out; you knew everyone and their mama knew your story, and you hated it.

“Contrary to popular belief, I don’t keep a tracking device on my ex-husband,” you sighed. “I haven’t seen him since we all went to court three months ago. That’s a promise, Sheriff.”

He nodded as he glanced around your property. You weren’t sure if he was looking for something suspicious to accuse you of not being honest, or if he was looking to make sure you were safe.

“I believe you,” he reassured. “I know I don’t have to tell you, but he’s dangerous. He’s gone off the deep end now that the FBI is lookin’ for him, too.” His green gaze was back on you again.

“Like you said, you don’t have to tell me,” your stomach churned as you processed his words. You knew now that your ex-husband was on the run, there wasn’t much he wouldn’t do to cover his own ass. “I was married to him, remember?”

“I know,” he tried to appease. “You still have my number?”

“On speed dial,” you nodded as you used your feet to rock on the chair.

“If you see him, you use it. Got it?” His eyes bore into you in a way that made your heart flutter again. You tried to swallow the feeling away.

“Yes, sir,” you nodded once more.

“Good,” he said, his boots crunched against the gravel again as he headed back to his truck. As he opened the door, he looked back at you with a smile. “And how many times I gotta tell you, darlin’? Beau’s just fine. You have a good night, now.” He tipped his hat at you.

You hoped between the glow of the setting sun and the distance between you, he couldn’t see the rosy blush that crept up your neck into your cheeks.

“Night, Beau,” you called back. You didn’t miss the way his smile grew as he climbed into the truck.

Mondays were the worst. The weekends just never seemed long enough. And now that the temperatures were cooling off for autumn, it made it a hundred times harder to get yourself out of bed. This morning felt more like the start of winter—a bitter 39 degrees outside. But you had gotten up because you had to, and practically had to drag your 5-year-old daughter out from the comfort of her bed as well.

The day had crawled by. Working in real estate was something you loved, as it allowed you way more flexibility and the opportunity to be a mom and still provide for your small family of two. But with winter approaching rapidly, things had slowed down at work. Everyone was settled and planning to wait out the brutal Montana winter, so your days felt even longer.

You watched the children find their parents’ cars in the car line and tapped your manicured finger against the steering wheel of your 1996 Ford Bronco.

There was an uncertainty that crept over you as you watched for your daughter—the lavender colored puffy coat you had put her in that morning, the jeans with a daisy patch she had begged you to sew on. But she wasn’t there. Fewer and fewer students exited the building until the trickle stopped.

You moved your truck into a parking spot and shifted the gear into park. The feeling of your heart pounding in your chest made you want to vomit, but you pushed it aside. Between the cold air and the tears that had already settled, your eyes burned as your feet carried you to the sidewalk where you spotted her teacher.

“Ms. Lang,” you called out to her as your steps quickly approached. She turned to you with a wide smile across her face.

“Oh, hi! How are you?” She smiled. “Bailey’s mom, right?”

“Yes,” you nodded with a breath. “Where is she?” The words sounded frantic, but you couldn’t help it. Your mind had traveled to the worst possible scenario, even though you hoped reality was that she had just gotten caught up with something in the classroom, or maybe had needed a bathroom break.

Ms. Lang’s smile fell and her eyes widened slightly. “Her Uncle picked her up from school early, he said she had a dentist appointment.”

With her words, you felt your heart begin to sink–down your chest, through your ribcage until it crumbled in the pit of your stomach. “H-her Uncle?” As you stuttered, you realized your mouth had run dry.

“Yes,” Ms. Lang waved you on to follow her as she walked towards the reception area of the elementary school. The both of you moved quickly around the remaining students waiting for their parents to pick them up. “Her Uncle Shawn. He was on the approved sign-out list.” She pulled open the glass door to the secretary’s office and waved you on ahead of her, but you were frozen in place. It felt like the oxygen had been sucked out of your lungs. Ms. Lang looked at you, unsure why you weren’t moving.

“My brother, Shawn, has been in Pennsylvania for the last two weeks...he's not in town,” you barely whispered.

Ms. Lang looked to the secretary as fear bubbled into her voice. “Call 911.”

There were multiple police officers in the lobby now. All of them had the same questions: what was your daughter wearing, her age, was there anyone that may want to harm her. You knew your ex-husband was considered dangerous, and you knew that better than anyone. But you never thought he would hurt your daughter. He wasn’t able to see her anymore, ever since he had become a fugitive. Prior to his conviction, he still could only have supervised visitation, which he hated. But harm her? Even though he had harmed you, you would never believe he would hurt her. But then your therapist had gently reminded you that you were broken and bruised, and he was unhinged. You didn’t know what to think anymore.

“Ma’am?” A young female officer approached you gently. “Your husband—“

“Ex-husband,” you cut her off quickly.

“I’m sorry,” she paused and corrected herself. “Your ex-husband fits the description of the man who picked up your daughter. The school followed protocol—he had a fake license that had your brother’s name on it.” You had figured as much.

“Jackson’s a lot of things, but stupid isn’t one of them,” you muttered as your eyes blurred for what felt like the hundredth time today. You picked at a loose string on the edge of your denim jacket. It wasn’t nearly warm enough, but you hadn’t planned to be outside for long.

“Because he’s a fugitive and wanted by the FBI, we’ve been asked to pass them the case,” she spoke gently. You should've known as much, but your head jerked up to look at her. She gave you a sympathetic smile—one you had seen from almost every damn local these last few months—and put a hand on your shoulder. “I promise they’ll do everything they can. The whole state will be on alert looking for your daughter.”

Her words didn’t bring you much comfort. You had gotten to a point in your life where you didn’t trust many people. The FBI hadn’t been able to find your ex-husband all this time, so how could you possibly have hope they would find him now?

As the officer walked away and people began to disperse, you grabbed your cell phone. You didn’t know what else to do, so you pressed the contact you had never dialed before.

It rang twice before you heard his southern drawl. “Sheriff Beau Arlen,” he answered gruffly.

“Sheriff?” You meant to sound strong, but the emotion had made its way to your voice. “Jackson took her…he took Bailey.”

Alright, so, I haven't written anything outside of the Supernatural fandom in a very long time (we're talking like, 10+ years). But I've had this idea poking my brain for the last two-ish weeks or so, and finally decided to write it out. I would be forever grateful if you let me know if you loved it or hated it. I'm new to Beau Arlen, so not sure if I am capturing his ~essence~. Thanks for taking the time to read!

New installments will be posted on Wednesdays and Saturdays!

A preview of the next chapter:

Beau had met you at the entryway of the elementary school within minutes, concern etched across his face in the way of worry lines that likely matched yours.

“You alright, darlin’?” He asked gently as he approached with a tentative hand on your shoulder blade.

Under the weight of his hand, you felt the ultimate collapse. Everything tumbled out of you in a way you didn’t expect (nor did he, by the look on his face). But either way, he used that hand to pull you flush against his chest and wrapped his other arm around your waist. He held you as you sobbed into the lapel of his brown jacket. The material was cool from the bitter wind just outside the door.

“It’s gonna be alright,” he coaxed softly with his mouth close to your ear. “We’re gonna get her back.” You tried to nod and speak, but only shaky breaths came out. Beau pulled you to his side and stepped forward towards one of the agents. “Beau Arlen, Sheriff,” he put his hand out to greet the agent.

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