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simplybakugou · 23 days

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Hi hi, wonderful!!! How are you on this fine *insert appropriate time of day here*? Could I maybe request dad Bakugou and how he'd react to his son saying something mean to female reader wife? Like, I know Bakugou is really aggressive with his own mom, but I was thinking maybe it'd be a little different when it comes to the mother of his kids?

⋆ PAIRING: dad!bakugou x fem!reader ⋆ WARNINGS/TAGS: swearing; teeny tiny bit of angst; fluff ⋆ WORD COUNT: 2436

A/N: my first written work on here in almost three years . Forgive me if i’m a little rusty lol. Tysm for requesting and i hope you enjoy :)

For a majority of your life, you thought becoming a pro hero would be the hardest thing you could ever do. From attending the illustrious U.A. High to working through the ranks to be in the top three pro heroes, second to none other than your husband, Bakugou, you never would imagine your life to be more difficult than that.

That is until you became a mother.

Only a year into your marriage, you found out you were pregnant with your son, Katsuo. It was difficult to come to terms with being a mother in the midst of your rising professional career but you knew taking care of your son was always going to be your number one priority, just as it was for Bakugou.

Despite the physical complexities of giving birth and being pregnant, the hardest part came afterwards: raising your extremely temperamental son.

Katsuo, ever since the day he was born, was never one to shy away from vocalizing if anything bothered him or made him upset. To screaming and crying on the top of his lungs as a baby to whining and throwing tantrums as a toddler in public, you felt yourself struggling to parent your son who made it his life’s mission to give you a hard time.

Who did Katsuo not give a hard time to? Bakugou.

Times where Katsuo would throw a tantrum, screaming and kicking his feet as he laid on the floor, all it would take was a “Stop that” from Bakugou to get Katsuo to cease his actions whereas it would take the whole day for him to listen to you. It was a frustrating ordeal but it never made you love your son any less. You knew this was a phase… at least you hoped this would just be a phase.

Just as you thought there was a lull in his behavior after he turned five, you became pregnant and gave birth to your daughter Suki. To say Katsuo was not thrilled was an understatement. He hated the attention that went to Suki instead of him. He hated that his parents had to take care of his baby sister that he didn’t want and he never hesitated to vocalize how much he didn’t want a sister.

“Can we get ice cream, too?” Katsuo asked excitedly, kicking his feet while sitting in the shopping cart that you were pushing. His little index finger pointed at the box of fudge popsicles.

“Will you share with your sister?” You asked, eyeing your son for his reaction.

As expected he was not pleased as he crossed his arms over his chest and huffed. “Fine. Whatever," he muttered curtly.

You smiled, grabbing the box from the freezer and putting it in your cart, knowing full well that his brief reaction would be the closest thing to a compromise that you'll get out of him.

As you were pushing the cart into the checkout line, your phone buzzed in your pocket. You answered your husband’s call, holding your phone in between your shoulder and your ear as you scanned the items in your car. “Everything okay, Katsuki?”

You could hear your now two-year-old daughter wailing in the background, repeating the word “Nana” as a very frustrated Bakugou expressed, “Please tell me you know where Suki’s fucking banana toy is.”

“Her toy should be on the sofa in the living room like it always is.” You adjusted your phone into your hand as you began to pay for your groceries.

“It’s not there and I’m about to lose my fucking mind.”

“Honey, I’m not sure where else it could be. Suki always keeps it there so she doesn’t lose it.”

As you grabbed the receipt from the little printer, you saw Katsuo giggling to himself from the corner of your eye as he was listening to your conversation. “Katsuo, what did you do?”

“Did that little shit fucking hide it?” Bakugou asked angrily through your phone.

“Katsuki, I’m almost done here. I’ll be home soon.” You sighed as Katsuo continued to laugh, his hands covering his mouth as if this were the funniest thing that could’ve happened for him.

“Katsuo, did you hide your sister’s toy?” You asked sternly, pushing the cart towards the exit. Katsuo simply shrugged, ignoring your question.

All you could was sigh as you loaded your car up and drove you and your son home.

You stood in front of the door to your home and before you could knock, it swung open, revealing an exhausted Bakugou holding Suki who was still crying.

“Still no luck?” You asked as Katsuo ran inside, almost knocking you and the bags of groceries in your hands over.

“No,” Bakugou said with an exasperated sigh as he closed the door.

“Nana,” Suki cried softly.

You set the groceries on the dining table before rushing over and taking Suki from Bakugou. “I know, sweetie. We’re going to find Nana for you, okay?”

She rested her head on your shoulder, tiring herself from wailing earlier as she rubbed her eyes. You turned to Bakugou who looked like he needed a nap immediately.

You caressed his face. “My poor babies,” you cooed as you teased him.

He glared at you before taking Suki back in his arms. “You better get Suo to confess where that banana is.”

“Me? Where are you going?” You questioned, watching as Bakugou took Suki upstairs.

“Sleep,” He said plainly. “Exhausted.”

You sighed, going back to the dining table to put the groceries away. “Suo?”

Katsuo stuck his head from under the table, two of his toy cars in hand.

You sighed. “Katsuo, I’ve told you many times not to go under the table.”

He crawled out and stood to his feet. His vermillion eyes, identical to his father’s, watched as you went back and forth from the table to the refrigerator. “Why?”

“Because you could hit your head. And we have rules and you have to listen to them.”

“Does Suki have to listen to them?” He uttered his sister’s name with as much disgust as his seven-year-old body could muster.

“Suki is still a baby. She’s two, Suo, and she can barely speak.”

“Well I used to be your baby, too, before she came,” Katsuo grumbled under his breath, fidgeting with his toys.

You smiled at him, understanding the feeling of being jealous of your sibling getting all the attention. You crouched in front of him and ruffled his ash blonde hair. “You’ll always be my baby.”

Katsuo nudged your hand away, turning away from you. “Whatever. You don’t mean that.”

You stood to your feet. “Katsuo.”

Katsuo spun around quickly, dropping his toys to the ground as he raised an accusatory finger at you. “You always say I’m your baby but it’s not true! You care about that stupid baby more than me!”

He turned around again as he started to sprint and make his way upstairs. You went after him as you exclaimed, “That’s not true, Suo!”

Katsuo turned once more in the middle of the staircase, his brows furrowed and his lips overturned into a frown. “I said I didn’t want a sibling and you still had that stupid girl! You’re the worst Mom ever!”

He continued running upstairs and into his bedroom, slamming the door loudly behind him.

Bakugou, who so desperately needed and wanted to take a nap, stood to his feet immediately following the sound of Katsuo’s door slam shut. Fortunately Suki hadn’t awoken, allowing him to leave and somehow patch this situation up.

Katsuo did this often, yelling at his mother and storming off into his room. However, he never insulted you in the way he did that day, and Bakugou knew you were going to take his words to heart.

Bakugou quietly made his way downstairs, peeking around the corner of the railing to spot where you were. You were sitting at the dining table, your back to him. He immediately noticed your shoulders shaking as you sniffled and wiped your eyes profusely.

“Y/N…” You spun your head at the sound of your husband’s unusually soft voice.

“Katsuki…” You wiped your eyes to get rid of any stray tears, not wanting to worry him. You attempted to muster a small smile, ultimately failing to do so. “What’re you doing awake?”

He sat down in the chair beside you. He stared at you, taking in your features as he raised his thumb and swiped under your eyes to catch your tears. “Don’t cry.”

Your lips quivered and the tears you were attempting to hold back spilled out. “I feel stupid for crying but-but his words hurt, Katsuki.”

Bakugou leaned towards you, his arms maneuvering you onto his lap. He held you close to him as you wrapped your arms around his neck, burying your face into the crook of his neck. “You’re not stupid for crying. He said some fucked up shit, and he shouldn’t have.”

He pulled away, brushing your hair away from your face with his hands as he kissed you softly. “You’re not a bad mom, Y/N.”

You let out a humorless laugh, wiping your eyes again. “I know. I just… don’t know how to validate his feelings.”

“Don’t worry.” Bakugou moved you back onto the chair as he stood to his feet. “I’ll talk to him.”

“Katsuki.” You reached for his hand, looking up at him. “Just don’t yell at him, alright?”

“I know. I was seven once, too, y’know?” And like that Bakugou made his way back upstairs, his footsteps echoing through the hall. He made it to Katsuo’s door and knocked.

“Go away!” Katsuo yelled from the other side.

“I don’t care what you want, I’m coming in,” Bakugou stated and opened the door.

He was met with a soft pillow to the face as an enraged Katsuo yelled, “I said go away!”

“Katsuo!” Bakugou exclaimed. Katsuo immediately stiffened, his expression twisting into fear from his father’s tone. Bakugou closed his eyes and sighed, calming himself down before speaking to his son. He didn’t want to go about this the wrong way.

Bakugou picked up the pillow as he sat on Katsuo’s bed beside him, placing the discarded item back onto the bed. “Why did you yell at Mom?”

Katsuo crossed his arms over his chest. “‘Cause she wasn’t being fair.”

“So she deserves to get called a ‘bad mom’ because of that?”

“No…” Katsuo mumbled after pausing for a moment.

Bakugou sighed, lifting Katsuo and repositioning him on the bed so that he was facing him. Katsuo kept his eyes glued down, not wanting to make eye contact with his incredibly intimidating father. “Suo, look at me.”

Katsuo hesitated but nevertheless he looked at his father. “Why did you call Mom a ‘bad mom?’”

Katsuo fidgeted with his thumbs before upsettingly blurting out, “Because she’s always caring about Suki more than she cares about me!”

“And did Mom say she doesn’t care about you?”

“No…”

“Katsuo,” Bakugou paused to make sure his son was looking at him. “Do you know how much your mother loves you?”

Katsuo simply shrugged. Bakugou shook his head slightly, reaching behind in his back pocket to grab his phone. He opened his photo album, one with just you that contained hundreds of photos in fact. He showed a picture where you were very pregnant with Katsuo, your hands cradling your swollen belly as you grinned at Bakugou’s camera.

“Here’s Mom carrying you in her belly before you were born.”

Katsuo’s eyes widened at the sight of your stomach, looking up at his father. “I was in there?!”

Bakugou nodded, this time swiping to a video of you holding a newborn Katsuo, tears streaming down your face as you looked down at your son. Your sobs were audible, looking over at Bakugou who was recording you. “Katsuki!”

Bakugou’s laughter was heard on the other side of the video and Katsuo watched as you looked back at his baby self in the video. “My baby,” you murmured, kissing his cheek and pressing your forehead against his little one.

“I was her baby,” Katsuo whispered astonishingly. “I thought Mom was lying when she said that.”

“Katsuo, you’ll always be our first baby. You’re our first born. But now Suki needs Mom’s attention, too. Did you see how little you were in that video?” Katsuo nodded. “Well, Suki needs Mom’s help to grow big and strong like you. But she’s lucky cause she has a big brother to help her, right?”

“I guess,” Katsuo huffed. “I’ll start being nice to her…”

“Good,” Bakugou patted him on the back. “Now go apologize to Mom. You didn’t mean what you said, right?”

Katsuo shook his head aggressively. He jumped off his bed and stood to his feet. “I’ll go say sorry.”

Before leaving, he crawled under his bed to retrieve something. When he crawled back out, in his hands was Suki’s missing banana toy that Bakugou had been tearing the whole house apart to find. Katsuo handed the toy to his father, threw open the door, and rushed downstairs until he stood in front of the dining table. His chest rose and fell quietly as he caught his breath from moving so fast. You turned around, not expecting his presence so suddenly. “Suo!”

Katsuo frowned at the sight of your slightly puffy eyes, understanding that you had been crying. And it was his fault that you were crying. He looked down at his feet. “I’m sorry, Mom. I shouldn’t have called you a ‘bad mom.’”

You smiled softly, looking at your son lovingly. “It’s okay.”

He shook his head. “It’s not okay. I shouldn’t say things I don’t mean. I just… I was jealous of how you’re always with Suki. But I know that she has to be big and strong like me.”

Your smile widened as you reached out and caressed his cheek. “It’s okay, baby. I forgive you.”

Katsuo perked up. “So am I really still your baby? Even if I’m not little like Suki?”

“Of course.” You pulled him into your embrace, his little arms attempting to wrap around you as he hugged you back. “I already said you’ll always be my baby and I mean it.”

You pulled away, kissing his cheek which caused Katsuo to break out into an even wider smile as he threw his arms around you into another embrace.

You laughed, hugging him once more, holding him onto your lap. You looked up, noticing a smiling Bakugou holding an asleep Suki in his arms. He sent a wink your way as you smiled gratefully at him.

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ravisinghs-wife · 10 months

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The seven + Nico and Reyna and their red flags ✼

warnings: not proofread, swearwords, lmk if I missed anything!

a/n: okay I'm sorry I didn't post for like two months, ngl I simply forgot that this blog existed😭

notes to the fic: reader is written as gn (one mention off y/n), but pls don't read Nico's part if u identify as female! :)

masterlist

Percy

he's always barefoot during spring and summer

you'll never catch him with shoes on because he things that they are "blocking the fresh air his toes need"

at least they never get that dirty because he can't survive five minutes without jumping in the sea

when he was younger sally had to force him wear shoes to school, to the parkt et cetera and he was always so angry at her after that because he hated it with all his passion

that anger quickly faded after she baked some blue cookies

after growing up he learned that he should wear shoes to school et cetera but the second he is at camp he gets rid of them

after you dressed it he delegated that he always washed them and kept them clean so there was no wrong doing it and that it's actually healthy for your feet

Annabeth

listen, I love annabeth

but she's always mansplaining

Like u could be talking about ur close family that she only met once and she‘d say something like „actually, i had the impression that…“

It’s so annoying

she doesn't even mean it mean or something

but it also could be just a conversasiation that she isn't even involved in and she'll just randomly pop up and mansplain the topic

jason

That boy doesn’t have any basic knowledge

Like he is at camp jupiter since he’s three or something

I‘m not sure if they even knew what they where teaching him

Like that boy doesn’t know algebra

You could be talking about something in history and how deeply that event infected the way society lives now and he‘d be like „what do you mean?“

And he’s serious

Everytime Percy and Leo make fun of him for not knowing something he‘ll run to you and beg you to explain it to him

Most of the time you make a bit fun of him too because a 17 year old boy who doesn’t know what the french Revolution was is kinda funny

He knows that you‘re just joking though

hazel

I love her but she's like one of the extra careful mom's whose world break when their child hears a swear word

every time you are someone near both of ou swears she has this weird shocked and impressed look and looks around the room

you had to stop swearing around her bc she always starts blushing and looks at you in awe

they don't even have to be the "bad" swear words, it could be something like shit and she'd still be shocked

you had to learn to find alternatives like fudge or fox

she made you browse for the alternatives to swear words for around two hours at midnight and made you subscribe to the mommy blogs incase they had "more cool little alternatives"

piper

she's a die hard romance book hater

she always gives you the weird look when you read one or even only look at one at the bookstore

like she doesn't even have a plausible reason besides that they "always have the same ending and are very predictable"

I mean she's right but still

when she was 14 she had an instagram where she just talked shit about romance books because she was bored

it's not even that she doesn't like reading or books that much, she just doesn't like them because they (as already said) have the same ending and because she gor sick of the perfect romantic ending after drew talked night in and out about it

you once convinced her to read your favorite romance book and she tried her best to be nice

she actually didn't find it that bad and liked the ending but she would never admit that to you

leo

that boy either doesn't shower for one week or takes two hour showers

it's a bit better in the summer but especially in winter he never shower because he "would just get dirty later again"

you have to force him too properly shower because he would just forget it again

and when he actually showers for once he takes two hour showers

but especially in summer he's just gonna swim in the lake and call it a day because he basically "got clean already"

frank

I love frank sm but he would 7 in 1 shampoo

he doesn't get why it's bad and insists that it makes his hair shinier

you try to explain it to him once but he just doesn't understand 😪

he also tries to convince you all the time that it's so much better than owning body wach, shampoo and conditioner

nico

is a pop music hater

he always has this annoyed look on his face when you play pop music

he always makes this disappointed dad sigh and says "again?"

nico sounds so disappointed

he secretly loves it about you tho

reyna

she's like a confused mom and never gets jokes

"what do you mean by that, y/n? I never do that"

you try to explain the joke to her but give up after 10 minutes

she's grumpy for the rest of the day because you wouldn't finish explaining it to her

eventually she gives her pride up and asks you again

and after another ten stressful minutes she finally gets it

she kept arguing that what you said doesn't make sense

#x reader #dating headcanons #percy jackson x reader #fanficton #masterlist #annabeth chase x reader #hazel levesque x reader #frank zhang x reader #piper mclean x reader #jason grace x reader #nico di angelo x reader #reyna avila ramirez arellano #Reyna Ramirez Arellano x reader #Reyna ramirez x reader #percy jackson fanfiction #pjo x reader #pjo x you #red flags

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sc0tters · 9 months

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Repeated Moments | Quinn Hughes

summary: you and Quinn get a chance to see that your usual summer fling works all year round.

song: August - Taylor Swift

request: yes/no

warnings: bit of swearing, allusions to sex but nothing explicit.

word count: 1.41k

authors note: so the song August actually inspired the In His Arms series and I came up with it before this request came in. So I figured that I’d give you guys what was the other option that I had when building that series main character! If you want to see more of the celly you can find the playlist here!

He was never yours for long enough.

It started back in 2020 one night at the lake house when you two had far too much to drink and you ended up in Quinn’s room with your clothes on the floor and you tangled in his sheets.

There was a joke that you’d end up like that one day, Ellen saw the way you looked at her son. She saw the way he looked at you too. In fact the only people who didn’t see it was Alex, Jack and their other friends.

Luke didn’t see it but he walked in once when you were on Quinn’s lap making out with him and once you swore him to secrecy the youngest Hughes vowed to never tell a soul.

Despite the fact that you sat Quinn down swearing that what happened could never happen again because you believed your brothers friendship was more important than a quick fuck, it seemed to continue to happen.

After the third and fourth time that you landed up in his sheets it was clear that this was bound to be more than just a drunken evening.

Quickly it began your secret, you’d go to bed waiting until everyone fell asleep before you’d make your way to Quinn’s room making sure that you were back in your room by the time Alex was woke up.

Sure there were a few times that you two were almost caught, Jack went to the bathroom early one morning and saw you leaving his brothers room, Alex came to your room to give you a blanket once and was met with your empty bed. Cole thought he heard moans coming from Quinn’s room but he just assumed that it was him being sleep deprived.

The moment it all should have been caught was when Alex saw the hickey on your neck that you chalked off to be a burn from your curling iron, your hair had been straight all week but your brother still offered to get ice for you.

Things continued on for another summer always ending when the first one left the lake house.

A spanner was thrown into the works though when Luke invited you to his debut game because he knew you were in New Jersey for the week. The young Hughes boy had a soft spot for you because when he was like twelve you threatened to punch Jack and Trevor if they continued to tease him.

Quinn didn’t know you were going to there but the signs should have pointed to it. Ellen came with a box of your favourite fudge that only this one small candy shop in Michigan made, you were the only one on this planet Quinn knew who ate it. Jack and Luke had been talking about a girl coming with Trevor and how they were surprised that she willingly had him accompanying her on the flight.

Trevor was the kind of person that you used to put up with, he was nice don’t get yourself wrong but he literally spent the first four years of knowing you trying to flirt with you. Sure you appreciated the fact that he found you pretty but his efforts began to get irritating after a while. To put it nicely you loved Trevor but you loved him even more when he kept his mouth shut.

But recently it seemed that you two had grown close or at least that’s what it looked like to Quinn. The younger boys arm didn’t leave your shoulders when you first arrived. Originally it was because the box was packed and you had the kind of luck that would have you lost within seconds. But after a while it grew comfortable there much to Quinn’s dismay and as a result he forced himself to muster up the confidence to go over and tell Trevor to hit the road.

Every jealous bone in Quinn melted when he saw your face light up “Quinny!” You giggled as you threw your arms around him, the moment was quickly interrupted with a scoff “how come I didn’t get that reaction?” Trevor pretended to act offended by it as he placed his hand on his chest. A smile formed on your lips as you placed a kiss on your middle finger before you flipped the younger boy off who ended up laughing as he walked off.

You got the chance to turn your attention back to the older boy “hi,” you giggled as you could still see the glare he was shooting at Trevor “Quinn?” You added as you snapped your fingers in front of his face.

Quinn forced a smile onto his face as he looked at you “what’s up?” He asked as you clearly now had his attention.

There was something on his mind that you were trying to figure out “you jealous?” You teased as you hadn’t really seen him like that before.

The boy let out a scoff “why should I be?” He shot back trying to play a defensive hand.

It was all clicking in your mind “you didn’t like how close he was getting to me!” You gasped as the Canucks player placed his hand over your mouth.

Quinn rolled his eyes as he could hear your muffled laugh from behind his hand “okay maybe a little,” he sighed as he dropped his hand “you’re cute when you get all jealous,” you teased as you leaned forward to kiss his cheek.

That seemed to hit a switch in his mind “fuck I missed you.” Quinn confessed as he wrapped his hands around your waist only being allow to give you a small hug as Ellen came over to you two the moment she saw your face.

the next morning

You groaned as you heard the noise of the knocks at your hotel room door “yeah?” You yawned as you swung the door open and were met with the younger of the two Hughes brothers “you know where Quinn is?” Luke asked as he sent you a smile when he held out a cup of coffee for you, it seemed that the boys made a pit stop on the way to your hotel.

Your lips pushed into a thin line “I haven’t seen Quinn since last night in the elevator,” you lied as you sipped the warm drink. You did see Quinn in that elevator, but it wasn’t the last time that you saw him.

Jack sighed as he ran his fingers through his hair “if you see him let us know?” He mumbled as Ellen had sent her sons on a mission to find him and they just thought that his best friends room would be a good place to start.

It was awkward “of course!” You nodded as you shut the door desperate to not say anything.

Quinn popped his head out from the bottom of your bed “you think they noticed me?” He asked as he cocked his head.

You fiddled with the ends of the shirt you were wearing “nope,” you looked like an absolute angel, hair all messy, lips swollen, the clear hickies that were beginning to form, and Quinn’s Canucks shirt.

Jack furrowed his eyebrows as he leaned against the elevator wall “what are you thinking about?” Luke could see that there was clearly something working in his mind.

The middle Hughes boy snapped his fingers “you see that Canucks shirt she was in?” He asked as the T-shirt looked like it came from a team development camp.

Luke began to think about it as he also had your oath he had in his mind “yeah,” it was that moment that the penny seemed to drop “oh my god!”

You and Quinn were totally oblivious to it all as you had both been in the shower to ‘save time’ “come back here!” Quinn’s complaint drew a laugh from your lips.

He wrapped his arm around your waist as he began to place kisses along your neck “Quinn!” You tried to move your head as the feeling of him was tickling your neck.

But all of a sudden when you went quiet the eldest Hughes boy stopped “what?” He asked as he scanned your face that was full of worry.

Alex 🖤: YOU FUCKED QUINN

Alex 🖤: I shouldn’t even be surprised

Alex 🖤: you did call him cute

Alex 🖤: on multiple occasions

Alex 🖤: just no making me an uncle just yet

“you think I’m cute all the time?”

“shut up,”

Maybe this time there will be more than enough time for you two.

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes x y/n #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #nhl imagine #nhl oneshot #imagines #oneshots #ambers 150 celly #amber writes fics

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atlabeth · 4 months

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(they all say that) it gets better | luke castellan

bleedin' me dry for context (this is that reader's origin story!!)

summary: a look into your unclaimed year.

a/n: does it still count as fluff if you already know it doesn’t end well? idk but i’m having fun writing for this pair so it’s okay. i hope you guys are enjoying reading them!! this ended up becoming a hell of a lot longer than i thought it would be but these kind of one shots are my faves to write lol

title from teenage dream by olivia rodrigo bc apparently guts teenage angst works very well for a demigod who feels like they're worthless and unwanted for a good period of time!! shoutout to the gods

wc: 11.4k JESUS

warning(s): fem!child of demeter reader. typical anger at the gods, but luke is actually pretty sweet! crazy. mostly hurt/comfort, reader is going through it at the beginning (mentions of injuries and almost dying), honestly she's going through it the whole time but luke is very nice to her lol. barely proofread bc proofing 34 pages is a nightmare !!

It was your first day as a demigod and you were already off to a bad start.

You didn’t remember much, obviously. There was a lot of stumbling, barely held up by your satyr as you crossed the border, and then full on collapsing. Somehow you managed to stay conscious all the way to the infirmary, enough to hear shocked murmurs from the people-like blobs around you and terrified, whispered affirmations from your satyr as he ran along with whoever was carrying you.

You didn’t remember much. But you do remember thinking what a shameful existence it would be to die at fourteen.

And now you were sitting in an uncomfortable cot, staring at the wall and counting divots. The first half of your visit was only there in flashes as you drifted in and out of consciousness, but now, unfortunately, you were fully awake. You belatedly wondered how many other kids began their camp life with a stay at the infirmary.

The thought was dashed from your head as you jolted and cried out in sudden pain, and you shot daggers with your glare at the boy next to you.

“Sorry.” The boy fixing you up was about your age, and he almost seemed to glow from within. “You dislocated your shoulder—I was popping it back into place.”

“You could have warned me,” you seethed.

“I did,” he said, and when he placed his hands on your shoulder they actually did glow. “You just weren’t listening.”

“...Sorry,” you said after a moment. “I’m having a rough day.”

He shook his head with a slight smile. “It’s expected.”

“It’ll be okay,” your satyr said, and some of the tension left your shoulders as you looked over at Tate. He’d been by your side for the past two weeks of disasters, and you’d saved each other’s lives more times than you could count. You were just thankful he didn’t have to watch you die. “Jace is one of camp’s best healers. You’re in good hands.”

You nodded, not wanting to cause any more problems, so you bit your lip and bit your tongue and let him heal the rest of your injuries in silence. He was done soon enough, and you could feel both their eyes on you as you rifled through your backpack. Thankfully, Tate brought it in as you were dying. Your own blood stained the nylon.

“How do you feel?” Tate asked anxiously.

“Better,” you said, tearing your eyes away from it as you continued making sure all your belongings were still there. “A lot better. Not like there’s much competition.”

Tate chuckled, and Jace picked up a small bag from the bedside table and handed it to you—it looked like there were little pieces of fudge inside. “Here.”

“What’s this?” you asked as you took it.

“Ambrosia,” he said. “Wait a few hours before you have a piece, and only have a little if you feel a lot of pain. I already gave you nectar while you were out, and the last thing we need is you burning up.”

You looked at Tate with raised eyebrows and he smiled a bit. “Ambrosia and nectar are the food of the gods. It heals demigods in small portions, but take too much and you’ll get a fever. Worst case scenario, you’ll literally burn up from the inside.”

“Oh,” you said, and you stuffed the bag into your pack before zipping it up. “I’ll… I’ll wait.”

“Probably a good idea,” Jace said, and he looked over at your satyr as he stood up. “I’ve gotta get back to my sword-fighting lessons. Can you give her a tour?”

He shook his head. “I have to debrief with Chiron and Mr. D. There were some… rough things on the road.” Tate looked at you. “I’ll be back in thirty minutes— are you sure you’ll be okay?”

“It’s fine,” you said with a smile. “Do your thing. I’ll look around some, then we’ll find each other later.”

Tate nodded thankfully and went through an open door opposite your bed, and Jace gave you a tight smile as he started to put away all the medical supplies he used on you. You sighed, slung your bag over your shoulder, and walked out.

You shut the door behind you and blinked rapidly as you tried to adjust to the sunlight. Then, you heard someone sigh.

“Thank the gods you’re okay.”

You turned to see a boy standing up from the wall. Dark curls hung just above his eyes, a contrast to his tanned skin, slightly red from exertion. He was wearing the same bright orange shirt that your healer was—Camp Halfblood, it said in curved text. He was far too pretty for his own good.

“I’m the one who carried you in,” he said, and you realized you were frowning. “Wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Oh,” you said. “That’s… that’s nice of you.”

“It’s been a while since we’ve gotten someone new,” he said. “Even longer since they’ve had such a dramatic entrance.”

You shrugged. You didn’t exactly know what to say to this boy. “Sorry.”

He paused for a moment, and then he nodded. “Not one for conversation. That’s fine.”

“I did almost just die,” you said wryly. “I’m fresh out of icebreakers at the moment.”

“Maybe I can help with that.” He held out his hand. “Luke Castellan. Head Counselor of the Hermes cabin, and apparent rescuer of damsels.”

You huffed a laugh as you stared at him. “I’m a damsel?”

“I’d say you were in as much distress as someone could be back there,” he said with a shrug. “I practically saved your life. I think that deserves a handshake.”

The slightest bit of tension dissolved from your shoulders and you shook his hand. His smile grew.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, dropping his hand. “You were pretty rough when I found you.”

“Better,” you said, though you grimaced a bit as you tested your shoulder, and you decided to switch your pack to your other side. “Whoever that guy in the infirmary is, he’s good.”

Luke nodded. “Son of Apollo—they’ve got healing abilities. Very useful when we’re all constantly getting injured.”

Your brows knit together. “So it really is all real.”

“You were nearly dead on our doorstep, and from those claw marks I’m guessing it wasn’t just a bad fall.” Luke offered a wry smile. “I’m sure you’ve known it’s all real for a while.”

“Of course,” you said. “It’s just weird to really know that it’s all real. To see all of you, really. Just knowing I’m not alone.”

He nodded. “That’s the best thing about it, knowing you’re not alone.” He looked around at your surroundings—various campers chatting as they walked with each other (some glancing at you as they went by), distant shouts and cheers, and a perfectly blue sky matching the perfectly blue house you just left.

“I’d say the worst thing about it is feeling like I still have no idea what’s going on,” you said. “Unless the gods exist just to be deadbeats. That’d be disappointing.”

Luke actually laughed at that, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and you found yourself smiling a bit. “I can tell we’re gonna get along.”

Your own smile returned—it was like his joy was infectious. “You think so?”

“I know so,” he nodded. “Just… try not to throw the gods’ names around like that. They don’t like to be talked about unless they’re being revered.”

You huffed. “Sounds like an interesting place.”

“Camp Halfblood,” he provided, and he gestured around you with his hand. “Keeping young heroes safe for over three millennia.”

“What,” you said wryly, “are you their PR guy?”

Luke laughed and shook his head. “It’s something Chiron likes to say.”

“You’re the second person to mention Chiron,” you said. “Who exactly is he?”

“You haven’t gotten a tour yet?”

You gave him a look. “Come on. You carried me in. You think I could have gotten a tour between then and now?”

“Fair,” he admitted, and he tilted his head. “I can give you one, if you’re so inclined.”

“I said I would wait for Tate,” you said. “He’s my satyr— I figure I owe it to him.”

“C’mon,” Luke said. “He’s meeting Chiron and Mr. D—that’ll take long enough on its own, and if we don’t get out of here soon enough, you’re gonna get dragged into a whole other conversation with them. At least this way, you can get a little bit of downtime before all the lore of this place is dropped on you.”

You bit your lip, and then you sighed and nodded. “Fine. But it can’t take too long.”

Luke smiled and held up three fingers. “Halfblood’s honor.”

You didn’t know where to start.

There were far more people than you expected, not nearly enough beds for all of them, and half were talking and a quarter were fighting and the others were just completely unfazed. All you could do when you walked in was stare.

“You get used to it,” Luke said, glancing over at you. “Everyone’s nice, I promise—just keep a hand on your pockets.”

You frowned. “Why?”

He gave you a crooked smile. “Hermes is the god of thieves. We learn by experience in this cabin.”

Your hands instinctively reached back to the pockets of your jeans, despite the fact that you hardly had anything to your name. “Why do they put the new, naive kids in here again?”

“God of travellers, too—all are welcome.” Luke saw your hand shoot to your pocket and laughed. “Don’t worry. I won’t let anyone mess with you too much—for now, at least.”

“Oh, good,” you said lightly. “The hazing doesn’t start until later.”

Luke smiled as he continued to guide you through the cabin, nodding to and greeting campers with equal parts names and handshakes as he walked past them. You got just as many stares as Luke did hellos, and your skin crawled at the attention.

“Why are they all looking at me?” you whispered to him.

“Like I said, you’re the first new camper in a while.” Luke glanced at you. “News spreads fast, especially in this wreck of a place.”

“It’s not that bad,” you said , but your grip tightened on your backpack strap. “Just very busy.”

“That’s what happens when they shove everyone in here,” Luke said. “All are welcome means all are welcome—Hermes kids, unclaimed kids, and kids of minor gods.”

You frowned. “Minor gods don’t have cabins?”

“This place is as much for us as it is in honor of the gods,” he said. “Twelve cabins for twelve Olympians. They don’t see it as a problem, therefore we can’t see it as a problem.”

You decided to bite your tongue, but you couldn’t hide your sigh. “I guess I’m gonna be here for the time being.”

He looked you up and down, and all you could think was that you must look like an absolute disaster. “I’m guessing you fall into the unclaimed.”

Your lips pressed into a thin line, a sad attempt at a smile. “Yeah, but I just got here—I bet my mom doesn’t even know it yet. Gods are busy.”

“They’re also omniscient,” Luke said wryly. “I’m sure she could have claimed you the second you crossed the border. Your parent could’ve given you a little divine intervention and kept you from nearly dying on the hill.”

“Well, I’m here for now,” you said with a bit too much force, and your nails dug into your palms. “So do you mind showing me around?”

Luke stared at you for a moment before he smiled. “‘Course not. I can also give you a quick tour of camp too, if you haven’t already gotten one.”

You shook your head. “Only the infirmary.”

“If it makes you feel any better,” he said, “you heal up well.”

“I don’t think that’s a credit to me,” you said. “I think it’s whatever magical drink that healer gave me while he was trying to bring me back. Tasted like pecan pie.”

“Nectar,” he said as he started walking, and you followed behind him. “Drink of the gods that heals demigods in small portions. It tastes like your favorite food—same as ambrosia.” He stopped in an empty corner and looked at you. “You like pecans?”

You shrugged, suddenly self conscious. “My dad makes it the best.”

“I hope you’ll be able to get the real thing soon,” he said, and then he gestured with a flourish at the same empty corner. “Welcome to your new home.”

You stared at him. “This is the floor.”

“We’re a little overbooked,” Luke said sheepishly. “If it makes you feel better, we’ve got sleeping bags. And this is a top tier corner. Quieter than the others.”

“…Great,” you said. “I feel very welcome.”

“I’m sorry.” To his credit, he sounded like he meant it. “Bunch of unclaimed kids, couple kids of minor gods, couple Hermes kids—it all kinda adds up to a mess.”

“...It’ll be better than camping,” you said, though mostly to yourself as you took your bag off your shoulder and let it thud to the ground.

“Hey,” Luke said, and his voice was softer, “it’ll be okay. With any luck, your parent’ll notice you now that you’re at camp, and you’ll be claimed before you know it.”

“I hope so,” you murmured.

“Luke, who’s the new girl?”

A boy with curls just as good as Luke’s walked up and clapped him on the back, smiling at you in a way that instantly set you at ease. He also wore the orange camp shirt, with long tan sleeves below that he’d pushed up to his forearms. He had kind eyes.

Luke said your name, his own smirk on his lips as he looked back at you. “You’ve probably heard about her dramatic entrance by now, but she’s the newest resident of the Hermes cabin.”

“Unclaimed or your sibling?” he asked.

“...Unclaimed,” you said yourself. You hadn’t even been here for more than two hours and it already felt like your own brand of shame.

He repeated your name with a nod and held out his hand. “I’m Chris,” he said. “Fellow unclaimed kid.”

A little bit less of a scarlet letter, at least. You swallowed your budding insecurity and shook his hand. “Sounds like a shitty club to be in.”

He snorted. “You’re telling me.”

“How— how long has it been?” you asked hesitantly, almost afraid to know the answer.

His lips pressed into a tight smile. “Couple years.”

“Gods,” you murmured. You didn’t know if you’d be able to wait that long. It had been hard enough already growing up without one—if your mother was just out of reach after all this time, you would surely lose your mind.

“Don’t worry,” Chris said, his expression softening a bit. “It won’t take that long for you. I can tell.”

“That’s what Luke said,” you responded wryly. “Do I give off a vibe that says ‘I’m unwanted, but not for too long’?”

Luke laughed and shook his head. “I promise, it’s all gonna be okay. I’ve been the counselor here for a couple months—kids get claimed all the time. I bet you’re next on the list.”

“Maybe,” you said. You didn’t believe it as much as they did—if they did at all.

You heard the door open and your head automatically turned to the noise, and you felt the heat rush to your cheeks in embarrassment as Tate came through, slightly out of breath. You stared at Luke—he said thirty minutes at least. He just shrugged.

“I figured you would be here,” Tate said, his chest rising and falling just so as he walked—trotted?—inside. “You didn’t exactly wait.”

You opened your mouth to speak up, but Luke beat you, already putting on a charming smile. “Sorry. We got to talking, and then I offered to show her around the Hermes cabin. Just so she could put her things down, y’know.”

“‘Course,” Tate nodded. “That— that was probably a good idea. Would have been bad if you got lost or something.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, and you went to pick your bag up. “Luke said you would be talking for a lot longer— I was going to come back after I was done with this.”

Tate shook his head. That nervous energy from the worst parts of the road was back, and you wondered how badly the talk with Chiron and Mr. D went. “No, it was a good idea. Better than you getting lost around camp or caught up with some troublemakers. Thanks, Luke.”

“‘Course,” he said.

“Not sure she’s in much better hands with Luke,” Chris said wryly. “He’s head troublemaker in the cabin of troublemakers.”

Luke just chuckled and shook his head. “It’s her first day. I wouldn’t let anything happen to her.”

You were only able to glance at Luke for a moment before your attention was drawn back to Tate as he gestured outside with his head. “Chiron’s waiting outside. He wants to talk to you some before the tour.”

And now you had to deal with it too. “...Great,” you said. You set your bag back on the ground, in your newly coveted corner.

“It’ll be fine,” Tate promised. “You already went through Hades to get here— he’s not gonna pile on you more. That’s why Mr. D is back at the Big House.”

This time, you did look at Luke. Thankfully, he understood.

“Dionysus,” he explained. “He’s our camp director.”

You blinked. “The god?”

“Yep,” he nodded. “Punishment from Zeus. Not the worst gig, but he’s… interesting.”

“Great,” you repeated, because you didn’t feel like processing that at the moment, and you looked back at Tate. “You’ll be with me, right?”

He nodded. “Not for the talk, but for the tour.”

You let out a loose breath, because it was going to be fine. He was just the authority figure of the one safe place in the world for you, and you were just an annoying kid that had no idea what the hell was going on.

“Great,” you said for the third time. You looked back at Luke. “I’ll see you around?”

He smiled and bowed his head. “Definitely. You do kinda live here indefinitely now.”

You nodded, more relieved than you wanted to show, and you started following Tate out.

You heard Chris mutter something to Luke, and you turned your head in time to see Luke jab him in the side. His head perked up when you laughed, and his whole expression changed as his smile returned and he did a little wave.

You couldn’t help but smile back as you did the same, and you left the cabin with a little pep in your step.

—

“You promise you’ll be safe.”

“Yes, Tate,” you said with a slight laugh. “The worst is already over—you got me here, and we’re both alive. I’m gonna be fine.”

“I know,” he said, and he managed his own smile. “I’m just worried about you. You don’t spend two weeks on the road fighting for your life with someone and not get a little attached.”

“You’ll be back here, right?” you asked. “I know your whole thing as a Protector, but you’ve gotta drop the demigods off too, right?”

“Of course I’ll be back,” he promised. “It… just might be a while. You’re the third demigod I’ve gotten to camp safely, now—Chiron’s trusting me with a bigger mission. It might be a couple months, but I’ll be back.”

“And you’re telling me to be safe,” you said wryly.

“I’ve been doing this for a while,” he said. “You just got here.”

“I know,” you said, and you pulled him into a hug. “Just don’t get killed out there.”

Tate laughed and patted you on the back before he pulled away. “So long as you don’t killed out here.”

“Thanks for everything,” you said with a nod.

“Thank you,” he said, and he gestured at the pavilion with his head. “Now get over there and make some friends. I’ll see you around.”

You hugged him one last time before you reluctantly went off, and you looked back to wave him goodbye before you really started on your way.

Your head still spun with all the information Chiron and Tate had imparted on you—so much about Greek mythology (and how it was all real), ADHD and dyslexia (and how they weren’t just there to make your life harder), your godly parent (who would hopefully claim you within the month) and so much more that you knew you would forget in an hour or two.

And Chiron’s talk. God, it felt more like you were in the principal’s office than anything, even though he was nothing but kind. You couldn’t help but be overwhelmed from it all, and though the talk was probably meant to stave some of that anxiety off, it really didn’t.

But you’d always felt out of place all your life. And now you were finally where you were meant to belong—that had to count for something.

Tate had dropped you off at the pavilion—nearly dying had taken a lot out of you, and it just happened to be lunch—and just as you neared the tables and realized you had no idea where to sit, your eyes were drawn to a boy raising his hand and calling your name.

You looked over and saw that it was Luke, the counselor from earlier, and you couldn’t help but smile. True to his word.

You weaved your way through various campers and around tables full of kids to finally stop next to Luke’s table—Chris, the guy from earlier, sat across from him, and they both smiled at you.

“How’d the tour go?” he asked.

“Fine,” you said with a nod. “A little overwhelming, but better than I thought.” You pulled at your new camp shirt, the fabric noticeably brighter than a majority of those around you. “I match now, at least.”

“Orange suits you,” Luke remarked, and he patted the open spot next to him. “Sit down—stay for a while.”

You chuckled as you sat down. You still felt out of place, but at least they weren’t going to hang you out to dry. “Bright orange seems like an odd choice when we’re trying to stay hidden.”

“Probably so Chiron doesn’t lose us,” he joked. “This place is huge, and there’s a lot of us. When the newest camper gets turned around in the woods during capture the flag and nearly dies to a monster, it’s easier to find them.”

You frowned, and you must’ve not been very good at hiding your panic because Chris shook his head.

“Luke, you’re scaring her. She’s already been through enough.”

“Don’t worry,” Luke said, patting you on the shoulder. “Just a little halfblood humor. You’re gonna be fine, I promise.”

“It doesn’t feel that way,” you said wryly. “It feels like I nearly died four hours ago and now I have no idea who anyone is or what to do.”

“Not true,” Chris spoke up, and he smiled. “You know us.”

“I’ll look out for you,” Luke promised. “And pretty soon, you’re gonna be good enough to look out for me.”

You let out a long lasting sigh. “God, I hope so.”

—

“You’re not holding it right.”

You adjusted your hold on the hilt, resisting the urge to wipe away the bead of sweat dripping down your forehead and the even stronger urge to hit him.

“You’re still not holding it right.”

Your teeth grinded together as you turned to look at Luke. “Are you gonna actually help me, or just stand there judgmentally?”

“I dunno,” he said. “The weather’s pretty good over here.”

You groaned and moved your non-dominant hand closer to the pommel, shifting your other down as well. “Is this worthy of your approval, Your Majesty?”

Luke chuckled as he walked over to you, and you could feel the calluses on his hands as he adjusted your form with slight touches to your arms. “It is acceptable, my lady, but your posture is not.”

“I don’t know how so many people at this camp like you,” you grumbled. “This is awful, and so are you.”

He smiled. “You’ve been here for two weeks. Give yourself some grace.”

“I’ve spent one of those trying and failing at the most basic basics of sword-fighting,” you said. “I spent the past hour losing to an Ares kid who I’m pretty sure actually wanted to kill me.” You looked over at Luke. “Thanks for that, by the way.”

“Trial by fire,” he supplied. “You’re still alive, so obviously you’re doing something right.”

“Yeah, probably because you’re here,” you said. “You can’t just kill someone when their counselor’s standing right next to them. It’s bad publicity.”

Luke huffed a laugh and shook his head as he crossed his arms. “Stop talking down on yourself. You managed to make it here with a couple monster attacks on the way—what’d you use then?”

“I started off with a screwdriver I stole from the garage before Tate and I left,” you said. “And then I stole a hunting knife from some outdoor store. Not exactly top-tier.”

“Lotta stealing,” Luke chuckled. “Maybe you are a Hermes kid.”

“They nearly caught me,” you said. “Definitely not.”

“Regardless of thievery, you still survived,” he continued. “You’re not a bonafide swordsman, that’s fine. But you’re resourceful, creative—scrappy in a fight is just what we need sometimes.”

“Great,” you mumbled. “I’m ‘scrappy’.”

“It’s a compliment,” he promised. “If we were all sword-fighters, we wouldn’t get far. Someone like you is gonna do us a lot of good.”

“If I don’t die before I even get out to the battlefield.” You knocked the helmet off of one of the straw dummies with your sword and sighed as it clattered to the ground. “This is the only enemy I stand a chance against.”

“You’re thinking too much about it all,” Luke said. “You’re literally wired for battle—didn’t you feel it during your fights on the way to camp?”

You shrugged. You guess you did—you remember not even taking the time to analyze the situation, just knowing your lives were in danger and finally feeling the ever-present jitters in your bones settle for the first time.

“It was rough,” you finally said. “But… it did feel like I knew what I was doing. Like my body understood it all even when my mind was still a couple steps behind.”

“And that was without training, and with,” Luke huffed an incredulous laugh, “a screwdriver. Just imagine what you’ll be able to do with actual Celestial bronze and actual training.”

“…I think I remember why people like you,” you said reluctantly. “And why I liked you.”

Luke grinned as he stood up. “That’s the spirit.” He picked up the fallen helmet and placed it back on the dummy, then looked at you. “I think I’ve put you through enough suffering. Let’s get lunch.”

“So a compliment was all it took for me to get out of this?” you asked in exasperation, gesturing with your sword as you worked to undo the ties on your armor with your other hand.

“Exactly,” he mused, and he took the sword from you to store it away. “I don’t get nearly enough compliments these days, y’know. Sometimes you end up taking that out on campers that don’t know how to swordfight.”

“Luke Castellan,” you grumbled as you finally got your breastplate off, “you are a piece of work.”

He winked. “Thank you.”

—

You didn’t think you were built for this life.

It was the only thought running through your head as you sat at a crowded Hermes table, absentmindedly picking at fruit with your fork as you stared off into the distance.

You’d been at Camp Halfblood for a month now, but it had already felt like a lifetime.

You’d managed to make a few friends—a Demeter girl who grew you a bouquet of your favorite flowers as a consolation prize for fighting dirty during training; an Athena boy who told you whatever interesting fact popped into his head first every time you ran into each other; the Hebe girl who had the misfortune to have the corner opposite you in the Hermes cabin and showed you skincare tips once in a while.

Throw in a smattering of Hermes and unclaimed kids and a counselor that seemed determined to make you smile, and you weren’t as lonely as you thought you’d be.

You were learning how to fight in your own way. Luke was right—you weren’t a swordsman, but you were damn good up close and personal. He’d taken you to the camp armory, you found a Celestial bronze dagger that spoke to you, and from then on you’d actually been doing well in training.

Your corner of the Hermes cabin didn’t feel as sad anymore, either. Luke took you to the camp store for retail therapy after you nearly burned your jeans off on the climbing wall, so now you had an AC/DC poster (courtesy of the little money you had) and an I ❤️ NY keychain to attach to your backpack (courtesy of Luke’s idle hands).

You were starting to come into your own, sure. You were doing better in training and making friends in the cabin you were stuck in and starting to get used to burning part of every meal, but the most glaring issue of all still hadn’t been resolved.

You still hadn’t been claimed.

And maybe it shouldn’t have been such an issue for you, but how could you not feel shitty? How could you see all the different tables and all the different kids talking and smiling and joking with each other that had parents who cared enough to at least claim them, and not feel unworthy?

Because you did. You felt unworthy, and it didn’t matter how many times you took your sparring partner down or bested the climbing wall or actually hit the bullseye at archery practice—your mother didn’t think you were good enough, so neither did you.

“How’re you doin’, Berkeley?”

You frowned. You didn’t have to look up to know it was Luke as he sat down next to you. “What?”

“Did you not hear me?” he asked, but you were already shaking your head.

“Berkeley,” you repeated, finally glancing at him. “That’s not my name.”

Luke shrugged. “I dunno what to tell you. You’re unclaimed. UC. University of California—first one I think of for you is Berkeley.”

You were staring now. “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, I’ve got tons of UCs. I’ve gotta keep track of them all somehow,” Luke said, and he pointed at campers both at your table and walking around as he talked. “That’s LA, Irvine, Davis—the others aren’t here, but you get the gist.” He looked back at you. “Been savin’ Berkeley for someone special.”

“Oh gods,” you said, horrified. “I’ve got to get claimed.”

One of the girls at the table—Irvine?—rolled her eyes as she stood up and flicked Luke on the head. “Be nice,” she said before walking away. All he did was smile.

“Maybe give it to someone else,” you said. “I don’t feel special.”

Luke’s brows creased. “If you don’t like it—”

“It’s fine,” you said. “The name doesn’t bother me. The reason I have it does.”

His eyes softened as he said your actual name. “It’s only been a month. You’ve still got plenty of time.”

You looked across at the Hebe girl you’d become friends with—Marisol, if you remembered right—and hoped that your eyes didn’t show the desperation you felt. “How long did it take for you?”

She offered a sympathetic smile. “Six months. But it probably won’t be that long for you.”

“That’s what everyone keeps saying,” you mumbled. But it had been a month, and you hadn’t gotten a single sign.

“Because it’s true,” Luke urged. “Whoever your mom is will notice you—you’ve been killing it lately.”

“Really,” you said flatly, “I’ve been killing it.”

“Yes,” he said. “You don’t know it because you’ve only got your own experience—you went from nearly dead on our doorstep to taking down most of your opponents.”

“In training,” you said.

“That still counts!” Luke exclaimed. “Y’know, you’re holding yourself back. You’re incredible, but you’re the only one that seems to not notice it.”

“And my—”

“Do not say your mom,” he said, pointing a finger at you. “We’re not talking about the gods right now, we’re talking about you. And you, Bee, are killing it.”

That gave you pause. “Bee?”

“I’m trying to get you back up and you focus on the nickname?” Luke asked wryly.

“Just explain it,” you said.

“Bee shortened from Berkeley,” he said. “Not fully unclaimed, but still something special.”

God, you hated him. You’d been feeling shitty for a majority of your month here, but he always managed to make you smile.

“Sure,” you said.

“And a little annoying,” he added, earning himself a jab in the side as he laughed, “with a bit of a sting.”

“Aren’t you just so clever?” you mused, though you couldn’t help your smile widening.

“It’s in my genes,” he said proudly.

For the rest of a less than exciting lunch, Luke kept you occupied. Whether it was stories of his life before camp, or the couple of months that earned him counselor before you got here, or getting the other campers at the Hermes table to talk about themselves, he made sure you didn’t get a chance to spiral.

By the end, your face hurt from smiling

As you finished cleaning up, Marisol turned to you. “Me and a couple other girls were gonna go play volleyball—do you wanna come with us?”

“Yeah,” you said, and your smile grew. “Yeah, I’d love to. Thanks.”

“‘Course!” she exclaimed, and she linked arms with you. “I’d be a fool not to get you on my team after you took down Liam yesterday.”

She continued to talk as she pulled you along, and you looked back at Luke. He chuckled and gave you a thumbs up. “Go get ‘em, Bee!”

You gave him one back, and as you turned back to Marisol, you found that you couldn’t stop smiling.

—

It was two in the morning and you couldn’t stop crying.

You finally had a mattress against your back, and however stiff it was, it was better than the floor. A decent amount of kids got claimed over the past month, and half the cabin left after the summer was over, so you finally had the privilege of a bunk—thankfully, Marisol did too, and she was below you.

At least, until the summer-only campers that all the Hermes kids liked more than you returned. Then it was back to the floor.

Unless you got claimed before then. But that was less likely than being able to muster some good will from your cabin mates.

Because it was embarrassing, truly. You’d been at camp for four months now, and you hadn’t even gotten a single goddamn peep from whoever your mother might be. You just woke up every day on the floor, moseyed about a camp that still didn’t feel like home, burned offerings to a god that didn't want you, and went back to sleep on the floor.

And now you were crying in a bed that was barely even yours and it was two in the morning and you were wondering if it would have just been better for you to die on the road to camp the first time, because at least then your mother might have actually paid attention to you.

“Hey.”

And now you were really wishing you’d died because you’d woken someone up and they’re just gonna hate you more—

“Are you okay?”

You finally turned your head from where it had been buried in a pillow, a laissez-faire attempt to suffocate yourself or maybe just muffle the noise, and you saw Luke Castellan. Counselor of a cabin of thieves, vagabonds, and rejects, and maybe the only person that you didn’t want to see you like this. All that good will, the unearned faith you’d accumulated—this was the easiest way to lose it. His eyebrows were creased, and his whisper held what sounded like concern, but he was required to be concerned.

You nodded, still not moving, still not speaking. Tears rolled down your cheeks and stained the bed sheet.

“You’re gonna have to be a little more believable than that, Bee,” Luke murmured.

“No, I don’t,” you whispered back.

You got the tiniest huff of a laugh out of him, and he gestured towards the closed door with his head. “Wanna take a second?”

“It’s past curfew,” you mumbled.

“And you’re miserable,” Luke said. “You can’t feel any worse getting eaten by harpies than you do now.”

Still, you stared at him.

“It’ll be okay,” he promised. “Right outside the cabin. Harpies won’t even know.”

You rubbed a hand across your face, coming away wet with tears, and you realized that he wasn’t just going to leave you like this. So you got up as quietly as you could, careful not to disturb your bunkmates, and followed Luke. He pushed the door open and shut so quietly you wondered how many times he’s snuck out.

The cold air was sobering, and you wiped away more tears before wrapping your arms around yourself. Camp Half-Blood was always supposed to have perfect weather, but you guess not even they were immune to November nights.

“So,” Luke started, and in your peripherals you could see him leaning against the side of the cabin. You could feel his gaze on you, and you just stared off into the distance.

“So,” you repeated.

“You wanna tell me why you’re crying in the middle of the night?” he asked.

“Not really,” you said, because it felt ridiculous that a boy your age was acting like he’s ten years your elder.

Luke chuckled and tipped his head. “Fair. You want to say anything at all?”

“I’m sorry for waking you up.”

He shook his head. “I was already up. I’m a light sleeper.”

“Seems rough in a cabin like this,” you said.

“I’ve gotten used to it,” he said. “Did you have a nightmare?”

You frowned, because now it really felt like he was babying you. Luke must have caught on, because he laughed a bit and shook his head.

“Demigods have… extremely vivid dreams,” he said. “Typically horrific nightmares. Sometimes prophetic.”

Your frown deepened. “That’s awful.”

Luke shrugged. “It’s just the way it is. The gods can’t interfere in mortal affairs, so I guess it’s their way of letting us know what’s wrong.”

You shook your head with a sigh. “No nightmares, thankfully. Just… feeling overwhelmed.”

“About what?” he asked. “I told you you’ve been doing great.”

“It doesn’t matter how many times you say it,” you said wryly. “It doesn’t mean I believe it.”

“There’s no reason you shouldn’t,” he asserted.

You huffed a laugh. “It’s been four months, Luke. Four months since I got here after nearly dying in five different states, and I don’t even know who’s responsible for it.”

“Ah,” Luke said. “The unclaimed thing.”

“Yeah,” you said wryly. “I guess you could call it that.”

“Sorry,” he said, and he shook his head. “It’s a bigger deal than that, I know.”

“Maybe it isn’t,” you said. “There’s at least six other kids in there dealing with the same thing as I am, and none of them are waking up their counselor in the middle of the night with their tears.”

“Don’t talk about yourself like that,” Luke said with surprising conviction. “Like your feelings aren’t valid. Because they are.”

You crossed your arms. “Doesn’t seem like it.”

“They are,” he insisted. “A— and you’re not bothering me. We’re friends, and we help each other. I care about you, y’know.”

“I never said I was bothering you,” you said wryly.

“You thought it,” Luke said. “I know you did.”

“...Maybe.” You sighed and shook your head as you looked out at the stars. They really were beautiful here. “I just can’t help but be bitter about all this, and I feel so shitty about it.”

“Would it make you feel better to know you’re not the only one that thinks that?” he asked.

“A little, yeah.” You glanced at him. “No one else seems too bothered that their parents are never around.”

“Most of them have accepted that it’s just the way it is,” he said. “Doesn’t mean you have to.”

“Have you?”

Luke sighed after a moment of reluctance. “I… I have a complicated relationship with my dad because he was around. It was almost… worse to know him, and then to have him leave.”

“It’s better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all,” you quoted.

“I don’t know about that,” Luke murmured. “But it certainly helps to talk about it.”

You glanced over to see him gazing off into the distance, a look in his eye that you couldn’t quite place. This was the most he’d ever talked about his past to you, you realized—and it still wasn’t much.

“When were you claimed?” you asked after a moment of contemplation.

Luke shrugged. “I never really had to be. Hermes stayed with my mom for a year after I was born, and she told me who he was when I was a little older. I’ve known basically my whole life—he had no reason not to claim me as soon as I got to camp.”

“So you’re saying my dad could be keeping secrets from me too,” you said.

“He might not know,” Luke said. “A lot of times, they don’t talk about it. Sometimes, we don’t find out until a monster’s trying to kill us on a field trip.”

You huffed. “What a great existence we’ve been blessed with.”

Luke smiled, though it was tighter than usual. He let out a deep breath, then fully turned to you.

“Do you have your dagger with you?”

You frowned. “It’s under my pillow. Why?”

“Under your—” Luke stared for a moment before he laughed and shook his head. “A little paranoid?”

You shrugged. “You said it yourself. You’re a cabin of thieves.”

“True,” he admitted. “How’d you like to get some of this emotion out?”

“We’re sneaking out even more?”

“It’ll be fine,” Luke promised.

“You always say that,” you said. “Eventually, it’s not gonna be true.”

He laughed and gestured at the door. “Get your dagger. We’re gonna make this a very bad night for some mannequins.”

“Maybe this wasn’t a good idea.”

You huffed as you ripped your dagger out of the dummy, a few strands of straw coming out of the new hole you’d torn in its forehead, and wiped the sweat off your forehead. “Are you kidding? This was a great idea.”

“Not this part,” he said. “The ‘being alone with you during a rage’ part.”

“I’m not in a rage,” you muttered as you slashed at the breastplate, “I’m blowing off steam.”

Luke hummed. “And you thought you weren’t a good fighter.”

You stabbed at the armor again then rammed your fist into its head, and you took a step back as the mannequin thudded to the ground. “I guess I just need to think about my mom before I go into battle.”

“Y’know, Bee,” Luke said, “you scare me sometimes.”

You shook your head, wiping your blade on your night shirt to get any debris off as you turned around. “You’re really gonna stick with that?”

“I told you I’d stop if you didn’t like it.”

“It’s not that. I just…” You sighed and shook your head again. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it does.” Luke crossed his arms. “Everything you have to say matters.”

“Not if I say it doesn’t,” you countered, and you looked at him. “Who do you think it could be?”

“Your parent?” he asked. You nodded.

“Definitely not Apollo,” Luke said. “You’re way too dreary to be a kid of the god of the sun.”

“Gee,” you said dryly, “thanks.”

Luke shrugged. “You asked.”

“Well— who else?” You picked the dummy back up and dusted the armor off. “Athena, maybe? I’m smart.”

“Not smart enough to not be out past curfew with me,” he said.

“You suggested this,” you scoffed. “And I definitely needed it. If we get caught, I’m blaming you.”

“And why do you think that would work?” he asked, amused.

“You’re the camp’s golden boy,” you said. “I doubt you’d get in much trouble.”

“Sure, sure,” he said, nodding. “Or you just think I’m good enough to talk my way out of it.”

You tilted your head. “That too.”

“I never thought Ares before,” Luke chuckled, “but after all this, I think you might have it in you.”

“God, I hope not. Priya hates me.”

“She doesn’t hate you,” Luke said. “She just tried to kill you that one time.”

“And that other time during capture the flag,” you said. “She’s out for blood, Luke.”

He chuckled and shook his head. “She always is. She’s probably already moved onto her next victim.”

“I hope so.”

“Maybe Aphrodite?” he suggested. “You’re awfully pretty.”

You rolled your eyes. “Flattery will get you nowhere.”

“It’s not flattery if it’s true,” Luke corrected.

You huffed a laugh but couldn’t help the slightest smile as you shook your head. “It’s not Tyche, at least. I have the worst luck.”

“Maybe you’re a Big Three kid,” he said. “How do you feel about the sky?”

“I like it,” you said.

“The ocean?”

“Not so much.”

“And the darkness?”

You huffed a dry laugh. “I’m not a Big Three kid, Luke. Even I know that.”

“No, you don’t,” he said. “You can never know for sure until you’re claimed.”

“If I was, I would be the biggest disappointment,” you said, looking at your reflection in your dagger. “Breaking their pact for a kid that can barely fight.”

“Why do you always do that?”

Luke’s voice had lost the joking edge from before, and when you glanced over at him, he was frowning.

“Do what?”

“You always put yourself down,” he said. “You don’t even give yourself a chance to believe that you’ll be great, or that you’ll succeed—you’re just a coward, or a failure, or worthless at the first bump in the road.”

“Luke—”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I need you to understand that you are so, so much more than whatever that shitty voice in your head says.”

You went silent. Any words you could have even said stuck in your throat.

“This is not an easy life,” Luke asserted. “We’re thrown into an ocean before we know how to swim, and we have to find the shore all on our own or die trying. We—” he laughed, but there was no heart in it— “we’ve got our parents above us that could guide us, could save us, but most of the time they refuse to even acknowledge us. And we’ve got every single goddamn obstacle in the way trying to kill us.”

He inclined his head towards you. “But in spite of all that, you’re alive. You’re still here. You’re pushing through everything in your path, and you are still fucking here. Do you get that?”

“…I’m still here,” you repeated, and your hands clenched into fists. It had never felt more right to have your dagger in your hand.

Luke nodded resolutely. “And you’ve got a couple lifeboats to help along the way.”

“You mean it?” Your voice came out softer than you thought, in stark contrast to the stiffness of your bones, but you felt like a kid all over again.

“With all my heart,” he promised. “For as long as you’re here, I’ll be here.”

Your throat tightened, and the telltale beginnings of tears pricked behind your eyes. This time, when you spoke, your voice was little more than a whisper. “Thank you.”

“Always,” he said. “And I mean that.”

You nodded, maybe a few too many times, and cleared your throat as you looked back at your dagger. “It’s late. We should get back before we actually get in trouble.”

Luke nodded too, and he helped you move the dummy back into place. You hated how your heart jumped into your throat when your hands brushed for the barest moment, but thankfully, he didn’t seem to notice.

“Thank you for this.” You played with your hands as Luke finished putting everything else away—extra insurance to make sure no one knew you were here—and only managed to make eye contact just as he looked at you. “It… it really helped.” More than he knew, you were sure.

Luke smiled, and he offered you his arm. “Always.”

You took it, ignoring the heat in your cheeks. “Just… don’t tell anyone about the crying.”

He chuckled as you started walking together. “After the way you’ve been handling that dagger? I’d be a fool.“

“Luke,” you groaned, “this is awful.”

“You were the one who said you wanted to spend time with me,” he said, giving you a crooked smile. “Spending time with me after the worst cabin inspection ever means cleaning the place head to toe for our next one.”

“Is skipping dinner really worth it though?” you asked as you scooped up a pile of dirty clothes and tossed it into the basket between you two.

“It’s the only time this place is completely empty,” he said. “I told you I could handle it alone—you’re the one that insisted on helping.”

“Maybe I do want to be a Big Three kid,” you grumbled. “At least I’d only be cleaning up my own mess.”

“You’d also have the wrath of the gods and every monster in the world to deal with,” he said.

You shook your head. “A small price to pay for a clean cabin.”

“And then you wouldn’t get to see me when you wake up every day,” he mused. “A much bigger price to pay.”

You huffed as you dropped to your knees, reaching under a bed to grab a stray camp tee. “Keep talking, pretty boy. It won’t clean the floors.”

Luke grinned. “You think I’m pretty?”

“I think you’ve got the messiest cabin in the world,” you said. “We’ve gotten the lowest rating every day for the past two weeks. I’ve been here for seven months now, and I don’t think we’ve ever gotten a full five.”

“Which is why you’re helping me!” he said. “Because you’re as sick of scrubbing the pegasi stables as I am.”

“You’re the counselor here!” you exclaimed. “You’ve gotta whip your siblings into shape.”

Luke gestured at you. “You’re basically my co-counselor. It’s just as much your responsibility.”

“And just what makes you think that?” you marveled.

“You’re the person in the cabin I like the most,” he said, “and we spend a lot of time together. That’s enough to make you my partner.”

“My stuff is always clean,” you said. “It’s you and the rest of the Hermes kids that’ve gotten us stuck in the stables and the kitchens every afternoon. Not me.”

You started remaking the unmade bed—would it kill any of the Hermes kids to make theirs right after they got up?—and shook your head. “It’s just not fair. Aphrodite’s cabin is basically Barbie’s Dreamhouse, and Demeter kids can grow plants to make it all pretty. We’ve just got a cabin of slobs.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, but when you glanced at him, you saw he was smiling. “It’ll all be fine.”

“You always say that.” You got the fitted sheet into all the corners then looked at him full-on. “Even when it’s not about something as stupid as laundry. How do you know?”

Luke shrugged as he nudged a ladder to a top bunk back into place. “I don’t. I just hope for the best.”

“How do you do that?” you asked. “How does anyone here do that? I feel like I’m the most pessimistic person here.”

“Every single one of us is an anomaly,” Luke said. “Freaks of nature. By all accounts of logic, we shouldn’t exist. But we do. All of mythology does. And when we have to literally fight for our lives for every single day, it doesn’t do much good to sweat the small stuff.”

“All I do is sweat the small stuff,” you grumbled, and you stretched your back out before you continued. “D’you think they’ll get annoyed that we just pooled all their laundry together again?”

“Nah,” Luke said. “If they didn’t want to have to pick all their stuff out after we so graciously do the laundry for them, they would keep their things clean in the first place.”

You chuckled and shook your head as you finished laying out the sorry excuse for a comforter—it would end up on the floor five seconds into the night, but Sisyphus and the boulder and all that—and sat down on the fruits of your labor. “I think this mess is the one thing I won’t miss when I get claimed.”

“You’re not as down about that as you used to be,” Luke noted.

“You know how they say a watched pot never boils?”

He actually laughed at that as he leaned against a bed post. “If you don’t care, you’ll get claimed faster?”

You shrugged. “Nothing else has worked. And like you said—don’t sweat the small stuff, right?”

“Like you said— all you do is sweat the small stuff.”

“Maybe I’m gonna try and turn over a new leaf,” you mused.

“I think that would be good for you,” he said. “You’ve been happier lately. It’s good to see you happy.”

“You’ve been watching?” you asked wryly.

Luke smiled. “You know I always am.”

You ignored the warmth stirring in your chest as you shrugged. “I’ve spent way too much time this year being sad over things I can’t control. Might as well start focusing on the things I can.”

“And to think,” he mused, “this is the same girl that wanted nothing to do with me when we first talked.”

“Oh, please,” you said dryly, “I’ve always wanted something to do with you.”

“And you still understand that flattery gets you everywhere,” Luke said with a grin. He pushed himself up and held out his hand. “C’mon—this place is clean enough. I think if we run, we can still make dinner.”

“Think we’ll get in trouble for partially skipping?” you asked as you stood up and took his hand, swinging your intertwined hands a bit as you walked together.

Luke chuckled as he pushed the door open and you walked out. “After the work we did here? We should be hailed as saints.”

“Luke,” you whispered.

His eyes shot wide open as he jolted up, and you had to stifle your laugh at his bewildered expression before he realized it was you.

He said your name groggily, rubbing his eyes as he kept himself propped up with his other arm. “What d’you need?”

“The stars,” you said. “They’re beautiful tonight.”

“So are you,” he mumbled. “You don’t see me waking you up in the middle of the night to tell you that.”

“Luke,” you said, but you couldn’t help your smile. “On topic.”

“The stars,” he said, barely nodding in his addled state. “Good for them. I’m going back to sleep now.”

“No, Luke—” you laughed softly and took his hand. “Come stargazing with me.”

He closed his eyes, but he didn’t take his hand away. “You’re insane.”

“Please,” you said. “I could never see the stars at home, not like this. They’re brighter than I’ve ever seen.”

“It’s so late,” he complained. “Can we do it in the morning?”

“Do you know what stargazing is?” you asked, amused.

“Hey, lovebirds.” The annoyed, tired voice of a camper rang out as they hit the wall. “Take it outside so we can sleep.”

Again, you had to bite back a laugh. Luke looked like he was holding back a groan, but he got up anyway, rubbing the grogginess out of his eyes. You moved to the door as quietly as possible, and you waited until he joined you on the small porch.

“Thank you,” you said, hearing the door close, “and sorry.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Luke covered up his yawn as he held a jacket out for you. “Put this on. I’m not gonna be responsible for you getting a cold because you want to stargaze in February.”

Your eyebrows rose as you took it. “Is this yours?”

“Don’t think too much into it,” he said, but he had the slightest smile on his lips. “You wanna see the stars, right? Let’s see ‘em.”

“Not here,” you said, shaking your head as you zipped up the maroon hoodie. You held out your hand once you finished. “Do you trust me?”

“Oh, gods,” he muttered, running a hand through his messy hair. “We’re doing a trust exercise too?”

“I’ll take that as a yes,” you remarked. You took his hand and started dragging him along, a clear spot in mind.

“You’re kidding me,” he said in exasperation. “I thought we were just gonna look at the sky for a couple minutes— you’re taking me to a second destination?”

“Hey,” you said, “don’t sweat the small stuff.”

“Oh, I can’t wait to use that on the harpies when they catch us and eat us,” Luke said offhandedly. “‘I’m sorry, ma’am—we’re really trying not to sweat the small stuff.’”

You laughed as you continued on your way, and out of the corner of your eye you could see Luke smiling too, despite himself. Suddenly, though, his grip tightened on your hand and he pulled you behind one of the thicker columns of the pavilion.

“Wh—”

He shook his head then gestured with it to the other side of the pavilion. One of the harpies—Aello, if you remembered correctly from Chris’s rant the past week about cleaning dishes—was walking past, muttering things to herself.

“Speak of the devil,” you marveled. You definitely weren’t a child of Tyche.

Luke gave you a look that quite clearly said be quiet, and for some reason that only made you want to laugh more. He must have seen that glint in your eye that he’d grown used to, because he placed his hand over your mouth right before the dam was about to burst.

You squeezed his hand tight as you tried to keep yourself from blowing your cover while Luke occupied himself with actually watching to make sure your path would clear. You were pressed right up against each other, and even through the jacket, even in the cold, you could feel his body warmth. He did say he ran hot.

Eventually, Luke let out a labored sigh and let his hand drop, and you wheezed, nearly doubling over.

“There is something wrong with you,” he said. He was barely able to hold back his own amusement.

“Oh my god,” you breathed, “that was awful.”

“That was your fault!” he exclaimed.

“How was it my fault?” you argued. “You’re the counselor here—you’re meant to be the responsible one!”

“I was being responsible!” Luke laughed again as he ran his hand through his hair then used it to gesture at you. “You were the one that nearly got us caught—you were the one who wanted to be out here in the first place!”

“Right,” you said, pointing your finger, “we gotta get to the beach.”

“Stargazing on the beach,” Luke marveled. “Definitely worth nearly getting eaten.”

“Oh, shut up,” you said as you continued to pull him along. “You could’ve said no.”

He squeezed your hand for a moment. “We both know I can never say no to you.”

Once you got to the beach you let go of his hand and laid down, taking care not to get sand in your sneakers. Luke sat down next to you but stayed up, watching the tide go in and out.

At night, without a hundred campers running around making all the noise they can, you actually felt like you could breathe.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” It almost felt wrong to break the sacred silence, to insert yourself in the ambiance of nature working together in all its glory.

“Yeah.” Luke’s voice was softer than usual, that rough edge you’d grown used to absent in the face of calmer seas. “Yeah. It’s…”

“Serene,” you suggested.

“Beautiful,” he said. When you glanced at him, he was already looking at you.

“Very smooth,” you said wryly. “Now stop flirting and look at the stars.”

Luke chuckled lightly as he let himself fall back. His hand bumped yours as he adjusted his position, and your breath caught in your throat for the barest moment. You moved it away.

The two of you laid there together in silence gazing at the stars for what felt like forever. The gentle waves coming to shore then leaving, the scattering of sand from quiet winds, and not a single angry car horn or police siren.

You missed home, the city. You were headstrong in your belief that Detroit was better than New York. But gods—sometimes, you just couldn’t beat camp.

You didn’t know what possessed you to break the silence. But something had been tugging at you since the moment you laid down on the beach, and so you did.

“Can I tell you a secret?”

Luke didn’t miss a beat. “Always.”

“I…” you trailed off for a moment, but you bolstered yourself. “I’m scared of what comes next.”

You heard Luke shift in the sand and felt his eyes on you. “What do you mean?”

“After this,” you said. “The honeymoon phase of being a demigod.”

He huffed a laugh. “I wouldn’t say we have a honeymoon phase.”

“You know what I mean.” A shiver went down your spine and you put your arms on your chest. Like a coffin. “I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

“I think you need to stop getting up in the middle of the night,” he said. “It seems you have all your existential crises then.”

You exhaled out your nose, a sorry excuse for a laugh. “I’ve heard about quests—how they can happen for no reason except a god’s will, to— to prove that you’re worthy. And all I can think about is that my mother will never claim me until I prove I’m worthy or die trying.”

Luke was silent. You could feel your throat closing up, the threatened onslaught of tears. You blinked them back.

“All my life, I have never felt seen,” you murmured. “And I’m terrified that the only way I will be seen is when I die.”

“Look at me.”

You turned your head—Luke’s eyes were piercing in the moonlight.

“I don’t care what anyone says, especially that voice in your head—you’re worth everything and more,” he said. “And you are worth so much more than becoming a martyr for a god’s approval.”

“I wish you could tell my mom that,” you mumbled.

“I would march right up to Olympus and say it to her face,” he said. “And if it bothers her that much, she can smite me right now.”

That got a breathy laugh out of you from the pure absurdity. Luke’s eyes flicked to the sky as he waited, and when he didn’t instantly die a horrific death, his gaze went back to you.

“I see you,” Luke promised, his voice low. “And I’ll make everyone see you the way I do. I swear it.”

You were starstruck. You couldn’t look away from him, from the determination etched into each detail of his face, the softness in his eyes directed wholly at you—the fact that he was here at all in the first place at an unholy hour just because you asked.

Oh gods. You were in trouble.

“It’s late.” You finally managed to break the spell that held you under. “We should go.”

“Yeah.” Luke made no motion to move, still focused wholly on you.

“Luke,” you whispered.

You could have sworn his eyes moved down to your lips, but he was sitting up so quickly that you knew you must have imagined it. You cleared your throat as you followed suit, brushing the sand off your—his— jacket.

“This was nice,” he said after a moment. “...Thanks for waking me up.”

“Of course,” you said. “There’s… there’s no one else I would’ve wanted to share it with.”

Luke smiled, and you didn’t think he’d ever looked more beautiful than he did now, awash in the silver moonlight. If you were braver, you would have taken his hand again. You would’ve done what the voice in your head desperately wanted to do—had wanted to do for the past two months.

But you didn’t.

“I guess it was worth nearly getting eaten, huh?”

“Yeah,” he said, and he shrugged. “But most things are worth it when it comes to you.”

You nearly melted right there, and it was a credit to your strength that you didn’t say anything horrifically stupid. Instead, you put on a smile, hoped he couldn’t see how much he was killing you, and started back up on the path.

“C’mon,” you said. “Before we end up having to clean the entire camp for breaking curfew.”

“Whatever you say,” he mused.

You groaned as you slumped into your usual spot at the Hermes table. You heard Luke laugh, and you felt his eyes on you as you put your head in your arms.

“What’s got you so down?”

“I’ve been fifteen for three days and I already feel like an old woman,” you said. “Everything still hurts.”

“Capture the flag was meant to be a birthday gift,” Luke said wryly. “And we did win.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” you grumbled. “I swear, some people went after me on purpose just because it was my birthday. I’ve got bruises all over.”

“You know, we have an infirmary for a reason.”

“They’re battle wounds,” you said. You picked up your head just to take your goblet. “Lemonade. Actually, pink lemonade.” You took a sip, but even that didn’t make you feel better. You buried your head back in your arms with a rough sigh. “Signs of our victory.”

Luke huffed a laugh. “Sometimes I really don’t…”

He trailed off suddenly, and you heard a collective gasp go up at the table.

“What?” you asked halfheartedly.

“You— you’re—”

You didn’t know why he couldn’t finish his sentence. You picked your head up to see Luke’s face awash in golden light, his eyes wide. Everyone else at the Hermes cabin was just as awestruck, and Marisol fumbled around in her purse until she pulled out her compact. She opened her foundation, the mirror pointing at you, and you realized why.

A glowing, golden, translucent sickle with a few sheaths of wheat floated above your head. You frowned.

Before you had the chance to say anything, Luke was yelling your name and tackling you in a hug. You let out a grunt of surprise as you barely managed to brace yourself, and when he pulled away he was smiling wider than you’d ever seen.

“You’re claimed!” he exclaimed, his hands gripping your shoulders. “You— you’re finally claimed!”

“Demeter,” you said, almost absentmindedly. It still hadn’t quite hit you.

“Demeter,” he repeated, nodding rapidly, that gigantic smile seeming like a permanent feature at this point. “I told you everyone would see you— I told you we would make them see you the way I do!”

The rest of the table was chattering away, and you could feel Chris patting you on the back and saying words that went in one ear and out the other. The rest of the pavilion was starting to catch word, and you could see a couple kids from a table on the opposite end standing up and craning to see. Maybe your new siblings.

(You should be happy.)

Your new siblings.

…Your new cabin.

You could still barely think, like there was static in your brain. Luke’s hands on your shoulders were the only thing grounding you.

(You should be ecstatic.)

A year of tears, silent prayers, and apathetic resolution had finally come to a close, just days after your fifteenth.

(Why are you not smiling?)

You’d been claimed. But you didn’t think you’d ever felt more lost.

#also you may notice. that these include the flashbacks mentioned at the end of bleedin me dry. bc i enjoy hurting people #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan fic #luke castellan angst #percy jackson and the olympians x reader #pjo x reader #x reader #sadie writes

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rhiaarrow · 2 months

Text

Today was an up and down day as a Ghostie to be honest, but right now? I'm actually happy.

I'm not gonna be consuming any qsmp content unless Bad decides to play on the server and I'm extending my Qsmpblr break indefinitely BUT I just wanna share why I'm not upset about this development in the hopes that I can help other Ghosties or other communities who might be a little bit more upset, see things from the brighter side.

I came back from having dinner, I'd left Bad's stream up on my TV so I just sat back down to continue watching the chat torment Bad while he played.

I'd already seen the documents on Twitter so I knew what had happened and I was just trying to enjoy Bad's stream and not think about it too much that our little Sunshines were now officially gone.

But I literally only managed to watch a minute or two of regular chaos content before I heard Bad's sad little "Hi Pomme" and he started talking with Lumi in chat. I was literally fudging crying by the time Shade (Dapper) showed up as well.

Then with Lea (Dansir) and Pancks (Agent 18) hanging out for a little bit too I was just, I mean it's Bad's allergies bro, they're contagious I swear.

The only thing that was upsetting me about the announcements earlier in the day about their admins leaving the project wasn't that they were leaving. Nah fuck that, they should do whatever they feel is their best option and if that's leaving the server then they should leave the server, simple as.

What was upsetting me was the thought that after a year of getting to know them, not just as their characters but as their adms too, we might just never see them again.

Those little guys were just amazing within their eggy shells or not, I mean hell when they were playing other characters like capybaras we still knew who they were, we just got to know them as a whole and I was so sad that we were likely gonna see a few of them go as they left the Quackity Studios team.

But seeing Lumi and Shade tonight hanging out with the Ghosties and Bad, teasing him and talking to him like normal even after they've formally left the project. I'm honestly glad that people have decided to do what was the best option for them.

The situation was toxic, there's no denying that, and I'm so happy that people are realizing that and doing what they feel is best for them.

But I'm so so so glad we still get to see them and they're not just a blip in our memories. I imagine we'll be seeing Shade and Lumi in Bad's chat every once in a while (I mean hey, Lumi said that Bad wasn't getting rid of them lmao) and it's just nice to know they're still okay even if we won't see their eggy characters any longer ❤️

They probably won't see this but

Thank you so much for everything, you were everything to us for months and I know I speak for every Ghostie when I say that we wish you all the best, and feel free to stop by in chat whenever you like, we'd love to have you around.

#qsmp #qsmp badboyhalo #badboyhalo #qsmp situation #qsmp eggs #qsmp dapper #qsmp pomme #qadmin situation #dappleduo

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georgeweasleyslostearhq · 4 months

Text

THAT'S MY GIRLFRIEND?!

Pairings: George Weasley x Fem!reader Summary: you and George found Ron jerking off to you Warning: mention of jerking off. Note: requested by @lillisummers BASED IN OOTP

you sat between Fred and George at dinner as George poured you a cup of juice, he sat down and kissed your head before taking a sip of your cup

"ay, use your own cup" you whispered, trying to be quiet as the room fell silent

he smiled and looked forward, at harry, who's now holding the daily prophet

"he's been attacking dumbledore as well...fudge is using all his power, including his influence of the daily prophet to..smear anyone who claims the dark lord has returned" Sirius stated

your hold George's hand at the mention of the dark lord by instinct.

"why?" Harry asked

"the minister thinks dumbledore is after his job" Remus interjected, sitting in front of Harry

"but that's insane, no one in their right mind could believe that would of..." Harry began, being cut off by Remus

"exactly the point! fudge isn't in his right mind, it's been twisted and warped by fear" Remus nodded "now fear makes people do terrible things, Harry, the last time voldemort gained power, he almost destroyed everything we hold most dear..."

you looked over and George smiled sadly as he gave your hand a squeeze

you leaned into his side and closed your eyes, feeling his warmth

"now he's returned, and i'm afraid the minister will do almost everything to avoid facing that terrifying truth" Remus trailed off

"we think voldemort wants to build up his army again..fourteen years ago we had huge numbers at his command, and not just witches and wizards, but all manner of dark creatures. he's been recruiting heavily and we've been attempting to do the same, but gathering followers isn't the only thing interested in" Sirius explains

mad eye clears his throat, trying to make sirius stop talking, to which he doesn't

"we believe.." Sirius starts again, making Molly stop cutting the vegetables at the end of the table. you opened your eyes, feeling goosebumps form on your arms, having a chilling feeling

"voldemort may be after something" the long haired man said

"sirius" mad eye warned

"something he didn't have last time"

"you mean..like a weapon?" Harry questioned

Sirius opens his mouth to say more but Molly buts it

"no. that's enough, he's just a boy!" she exclaims, coming over to harry, taking the prophet away "say more and you might as well induct him into the oder straight away"

"good! i want to join. if voldemort's raising an army, then i want to fight!" Harry fought, making sirius clap his hands and lean back in his chair

"no, no, you've encouraged this sirius! it's not safe for him!" Molly scolded the Black

"is it just me or are you hungry too?" George whispered, taking your attention away from the adults

you looked at him and smiled "starving, what about you Fred? you hungry?" you looked over at Fred, who snickered

"why did mum bring us down for dinner when it wasn't even ready?" he wondered

"i was thinking the exact same thing" George huffed with a smile, throwing his arm over your shoulder before starting a conversation.

you looked at Fred but noticed Ron, sitting on the other side of him, staring at you.

though he didn't seem to notice you saw, as his eyes were focused a little lower. looking down at your chest.

you wouldn't say you were wearing a revealing shirt, but it did show a bit of cleavage

you raised your eyebrows at the boy as he finally looked up at your face

his eyes went wide as he realised you caught him and looked away, his face beet red

you shook your head and lifted the shirt up ever so slightly

Molly got fed up with Sirius and walked back to the food, ignoring him before angrily chopping the vegetables

"what did the broccoli do to her?" Fred joked quietly, making you and George snicker

George picked up your cup of juice and drank from it again making you sigh before slapping his chest

"drink from your own cup!" you sighed before leaning over taking his cup that has been left untouched but filled with juice and drinking from his cup

"oi don't drink from my cup" he huffed, trying to take it off you

"no, shove off, that's yours now, this is mine" you smile, moving the cup away, leaning away from him

"Fred get the juice off her" George pled, making Fred shake his head

"i'm not getting involved in your juice stealing" Fred leaned away

"ha!" you stuck your tongue out at George

"oh yeah? how about i pour the juice on you" he raised his eyebrow

you gasped and glared at him "you wouldn't!"

he smirked "i would"

he teasingly tipped his cup slightly, making you squeal

"shove off!" you giggled, leaning away, now leaning on Fred

"Fred help me!" you begged

"i'm not getting involved, but please don't get the juice on me" he chuckled

George leaned forward and teasingly tipped it again, messing with you "George, i swear to Merlin if you pour that on me" you squirmed as he wrapped his arm around you

"oh? what would you do?" he grinned

"i'll leave you" you stared at him warningy, but he didn't buy it one bit

"no you won't, you love me" he smiled innocently

"i do, but not right now" you whined

George gasped, faking hurt "wow"

"George, don't pour juice on her" Ron interjected

George leaned away from you and looked at his younger brother, sitting 3 down from him "aw, how sweet Y/n. ronikins here is looking out for you, he's on your side" George pouted at his brother, teasing him

you looked back at ron and found him staring at you again, making you feel weird, his eyes said something that made you feel a little..gross

you walked up the stairs hand in hand with George to talk to Harry, who had left the dinner table with Hermione ten minutes ago, probably to find Ron, who had left the dinner table well before them

"i think we just need to warn him s'all" George shrugged

"George, i think he already knows how dangerous it is, he's faced him before" you sighed, feeling sorry for Harry

"i know but he's still a kid" George huffed, walking to the first door to the left, Harry and Ron's room

"so are we" you tilted your head, not understanding his point

"but we're older, wiser" he smiled down at you

"oh you are anything but wise, George" you rolled your eyes, amused

"you're the best girlfriend, aren't you?"

"i like to think so" you grinned happily

George shook his head and opened the door, still holding your hand.

you looked up as George go ready to greet Harry- although, Harry wasn't there at all.

instead of the Potter boy, the youngest Weasley boy was sat on his bed, pants down to the knees as he pumped his cock at a fast pace, moaning as his head was thrown back in pleasure, clearly not noticing your presence

you quickly let go of George's hand and covered your eyes, turning around, trying to leave the room

"o-oh Y/n.." you heard Ron grunt, the sound of squelching getting louder

"what the hell?" George cursed in shock as you walked in to a wall on your way out, trying to get the image of a half naked Ron, jerking off

you heard Ron scream and shuffling of the covers

"what the hell! get out!?" ron yelled

you groaned in pain from headbutting a wall and turned around, reaching one hand for George, eyes still closed

George saw you reaching out and grabbed onto your waist, pulling you close to him

"were you seriously just jerking off to Y/n?" George asked, just as shocked as you were

"n-no" Ron stuttered

you peeked, seeing Ron fully covered by his blankets, his face as red as his hair

"We clearly heard you say her name" George frowned

"Whatever! Just leave!" Ron begged.

"You were wanking off to my girlfriend! That's your future sister in law dude! That's disgusting!" George exclaimed. Still in horror

Ron stayed silent. Feeling beyond embarrassed

"I mean come on. That's my girlfriend!" George scoffed

"I'm sorry!" Ron cried out.

You stood there in George's arms, Feeling a little uncomfortable

"Don't say sorry to me. Say sorry to her!"

Ron looked down. Not wanting to make eye contact with you

"I'm sorry" he sighed

"Now you're going to treat her with respect and if I catch you even looking at her the wrong way. Out come the spiders. Everywhere. I'm talking in your draws. Bed. Trunk, and on your face" George said sternly, making Ron nod vigorously. Still looking down

"Good" George scoffed before letting you go and taking you hand

"C'mon babe" he walks towards the door. Leading you out of the room

Once he shut the door. You looked at him and raised an eyebrow

"Future sister in law? What are you insinuating there, Weasley?" You smirked

"I think you know" he grins

"Oh yeah? It sounds like someone is planning on marrying me" you hugged him

"Oh shush. Now. Do you wanna go bleach your eyes?" He asked

"Oh yes please" you nodded happily

‐‐---------------------------------------------------------

#imagines #fluff #oneshot #x fem!reader #george weasley #oliver phelps #george weasley x fem #fred weasley #fred and george #ron weasley #hp imagines #requests #feel free to request #george weasley headcanons #hp fanfic

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thetarttfuldickhead · 5 months

Text

Next Uncle’s Day rolls around and Roy doesn’t mention it to Jamie, of course, because Roy’s not in charge of planning this party, is he, all he has to do is show up and act excited about whatever colourful gifts will be inflicted upon him this year. Only, once he’s sat in his sister’s kitchen Jamie isn’t there and he keeps on not being there and when Roy finally breaks and asks Phoebe when he’s showing up Phoebe looks a bit confused and says you didn’t seem that happy to have him here last year so I didn’t ask him this time and Roy has no fucking idea what to say to that because it’s really fucking stupid to be sad over someone who’s absolutely NOT your best friend failing to show for a made-up holiday, and this whole thing isn’t REALLY about Roy anyway, it’s about Phoebe, so um.

Roy gets it together and nods and mutters yeah, all right, but it’d be fine though, you know, if you wanted to invite him next year

and no sooner has he spoken than THE DOOR FROM THE OTHER ROOM SWINGS OPEN AND JAMIE STRUTS INSIDE, grinning in TRIUMPH, like ha! you lasted all of half an hour before you started asking about me, I fudging knew you wanted me here, you grumpy old man

and Roy stares and stares and turns to Phoebe in utter betrayal but she just shrugs serenely, Jamie said it’d be fun to surprise you and anyway it wasn’t very nice of you to say he wasn’t your best friend last year, Uncle Roy

He said I wasn’t his either! Roy CANNOT believe this is happening to him.

Calm down, Uncle Roy, or you’ll have a heart attack before you can open my gift, Jamie says, smiling broadly and sounding so very, very smug.

His eyes are soft, though. The gift is very thoughtful. Roy will not admit it, but it makes a good time even better, having him there.

Roy’s sister just watches the entire thing unfold, thinking that nothing in Roy’s life has ever vexed and delighted him quite as much as Jamie Tartt does, and it’s all sorts of deeply amusing and very sweet.

#yeah i don’t know what happened either #i had a sudden Thought and went with it #phoebe and jamie are partners in crime #you can’t tell me they wouldn’t be #teaming up to do sweet (but sometimes also a little bit teasing) things to roy #roy kent #jamie tartt #phoebe kent #roy & jamie #ficlet #ficlet-ish?#my stuff

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hollowed-theory-hall · 3 months

Note

re.: the weasleys + parenting

what's always bugged me most abt percy's fight with arthur (especially in the fandom, where everyone's like 'oh, he turned his back on harry and betrayed his family to side w the ministry) is that. that's hardly what the fight is about at all. the fight is about the fact that percy, an 18yo kid who just got promoted to his dream job instead of straight up losing any chance at ever being Minister (because they tried to scapegoat him into taking the blame for the crouch business even though he managed to keep the whole department running while his boss wasn't even there), comes home all excited to tell his parents that "Hey, he's not unemployed and bereft of any and all hope for his biggest dream", but rather that his skills and competence got recognized by The Most Important Man In The Government, and molly and arthur look him straight in the face and go—"no you didn't."

there is no mention whatsoever that they even try to be gentle about it, that they congratulate him first and then bring it up later like "just be careful around Fudge, he's always looking for people to get information from and you are the best of both worlds, close to the action and actually good at the job he hired you for", nothing of the sort. they straight up don't even consider how any of those factors might've weighed in Fudge's decision to hire him.

and, perhaps worst of all, they have no faith in Percy. he tells them "I'm working for the minister", and not only do they not spare a second to be happy for him over this frankly momentous achievement (or at the very least concern for the position it puts him in), they jump straight to conjectures and accusations. "you only got this because of Harry" has got to crush Percy, who was raised to believe that good things come to honest, hard-working people and who has been working for this since he was a small child. and it digs the knife deeper when you realize that most of his siblings have basically replaced him with Harry. Harry, who also plays Quidditch and also keeps throwing himself into death-defying dangers and overalls fits much better into the family dynamic than Percy ever has.

and there's just this. crystal clear implication that they do believe Percy would spy on them. he's so Different and Other and Un-Weasley/Gryffindor-like and they've alienated themselves from him so absolutely that they can't see any reasons he wouldn't willingly and consciously jeopardize his parents' livelihood and Harry & his siblings safety just to stay in the Minister's good graces, when if anyone's actually at risk of losing their job for siding with Dumbledore is his father, who's still working there quite merrily and continues to so for a long time afterwards.

Percy, who runs into a freezing lake mid-February while attending an international event as Crouch's replacement to make sure Ron is alright, who pesters Ginny to eat and have a pepper-up potion most of her first year bc she doesnt look well, who tails Harry and Ron a lot of their second and third years bc there's something petrifying kids and then Dementors on the grounds and a mass murderer on the loose and they all just think he's being willfully bothersome like no you idiots he's worried.

of course he left. of course he left. what did he have to gain by staying at the Burrow, beyond fresh home cooked meals harassment and disagreements? why wouldn't he leave?

sorry I have a lot of feelings about this.

No need to apologize, this is brilliantly written!

I don't even feel like I need to add anything as you summed up the Percy situation perfectly.

But I can't help myself because I love discussing the Weasley family dynamics, so it's a bit more rumbley than my usual...

Percy cares so much for his family. When Voldemort is revealed and the war actually starts, he puts all his disagreements with his parents aside to come and help and make sure they're okay, because he cares. And still, he is being shunned and treated like an outsider.

Arthur and Molly Weasley are just really good at alienating their kids because it isn't just Percy.

Somehow all of them succeded in feeling like outsiders in a family of 9. Bill shows frustration with his parents and only returns to Britain because of the war, Charlie's in Romania for most of the series. Fred and George run away the moment they can and are treated like trouble by their parents most of the time (Molly and Arthur assume they are selling stolen goods from Mundungus when they hear they have money, not that they, idk, somehow earned it), Ron has a whole complex of low self-esteem and a tendency to blame himself for everything. Ginny is isolated from her brothers as the only girl and youngest...

And Percy cares and tries to be the best and most responsible sibling and gets scorned in turn.

Harry and Ron do acknowledge Arthur's and Molly's accusation towards Percy was awful and that he was right to respond negatively in OOTP. Ron is just sensitive about their family's financial state which soured Percy to him after Percy blew up at their dad (rightfully so, honestly, I'd say way worse to Arthur if it was me).

The thing is, Percy also gets scorned by his siblings, not just his parents (like Fred and George do). He gets grief for trying to be responsible and for wanting his siblings to do well in school and not get in trouble, Fred and George lock him in a pyramid...

That being said, do I think Percy is perfect? No, he is pretentious and overbearing at times, but he is a child in a large family who tries to find a place to fit himself in. According to child psychology, usually when it comes to siblings, the eldest would usually (at least in childhood) try to be everything the parents want (Bill), and then each next sibling will carve a different niche for themselves, and we see this with the Weasleys. I think the twins being born right after Percy and demanding a lot of attention from their parents from a young age as they were little troublemakers from the start is a big reason why Percy chose the niche of being bookish, ambitious, and responsible for himself. To contrast himself with them and his older brothers and get some attention from their parents.

I'm not a fan of the epilog (like everyone), but I find it hard to imagine Percy being close to his family post-books. I think he never fully got over the sting of not being seen as skilled and competent and that his parents believed he'd turn on them all without a second thought. Nor do I think he should just get over it.

Like, I'm really salty that Percy was the only one to apologize:

“I was a fool!” Percy roared, so loudly that Lupin nearly dropped his photograph. “I was an idiot, I was a pompous prat, I was a—a—” “Ministry-loving, family-disowning, power-hungry moron.” said Fred. Percy swallowed. “Yes, I was!” “Well, you can’t say fairer that that,” said Fred, holding out his hand to Percy. Mrs. Weasley burst into tears. She ran forward, pushed Fred aside, and pulled Percy into a strangling hug, while he patted her on the back, his eyes on his father. “I’m sorry, Dad.” Percy said.

(Deathly Hollows, pages 512-513)

Like, yes, it's great he was smart enough to realize the ministry is corrupt, but this demand only for him to apologize when Molly and Arthur Weasley were just as much in the wrong. Fred and George weren't beacons of sainthood here either. But none of them have apologies demanded of them. None of them are demanded to confess they are "morons". Just Percy.

Who even after his apology is still an outsider. Probably always will be one.

You said it best: "Why wouldn't he leave?"

And that's what we see him do (if temporarily).

#harry potter #harry potter thoughts #harry potter theory #hp theory #wizarding world #percy weasley #the weasleys #arthur weasley #molly weasley #asks #anon ask

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angel-of-the-moons · 7 months

Note

Hear me out this. Hanzo falls in love with a woman who's in the Lin Kuei.

(You can make it as horny as your brain wants)

(Please?)

Oooooooh our resident spicy boy!

Fire & Ice

Hanzo Hasashi x Fem!Lin Kuei!Reader)

TW/CW: NSFW, Smut, Sexual tension, pining, opposites attract, slight spanking (briefly) unprotected sex, bath sex, PiV sex, temperature play(?) wee bit of Kanon fudging

MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

A/N: Hanzo is just MMMMF also Raiden is Light Aligned here for a wee bit of context

🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

It all started during one of the first peace talks after the budding brotherhood of your Grandmaster, Kuai Liang (AKA Sub-Zero) and the Grandmaster of the Shirai Ryu.

Once the cease-fire between the clans was initiated, it was met with mixed results. The original Shirai Ryu were annihilated (including Hanzo's wife and child) by the forces of the previous Grandmaster, Bi-Han (whom everyone later discovered was actually the evil sorcerer Quan-Chi in disguise).

However it came to light that the initial fires of hatred that were lit were orchestrated by the Grandmaster before Bi-Han himself; before Bi-Han became the void-creature known as Noob Saibot, before Cyrax and Sektor were "cyberized".

All of course, with Quan-Chi's aid...

But when Kuai Liang and Hanzo Hasashi buried old prejudices and hatreds and pursued an avenue of peace and allyship, they proposed training scenarios between the ninjas.

You were one of Sub-Zero's top members. Your flexibility and cryomancy a deadly and graceful combination.

Naturally, at some point you found yourself pitted against your complete elemental opposite, Scorpion.

Not only was he your elemental opposite, he was vastly more skilled than you. Having spent years as a revenant under the control of Quan-Chi, training others in the way of the Shirai Ryu, working with Lord Raiden... Yeah. You were a child compared to his prowess.

But you however, did get some ideas for your own weaponry from him. Instead of a normal kunai attached to a chain, you settled for a chain with blunt ends, allowing your cryomancy to shape various weapons at the ends. After all, they'd been useful for making things like spears, scythes and various others in the past...

And to say the man was floored when you used his own techniques against him--and mastering them with your own twists while you were at it--was an understatement.

It became rather normal for Hanzo to seek you out for sparring sessions, seeking to experiment with your respective powers you both created various attacks and techniques to better battle one another.

However it was during one of your sessions, where you were to be chased and he the hunter, that the two of you finally figured out that what was between the two of you was more than camaraderie, more than diplomatic friendship.

Hanzo himself realized a lot sooner than you did. The warmth in his heart (and not from his flame) and the increased rate of beats when you were around, how his thoughts would drift back to you when it was quiet, when he would pace the Fire Gardens...

It was a feeling he hasn't felt since Harumi.

He was hesitant to bring it to your attention, for fear of a repeat performance of some cruel twist of fate robbing him of the one he loved once again.

He couldn't dare hope one as vibrant and beautiful as you could feel the same.

Until that night, when he had you pinned to the tree, breathing hard from the chase.

He barely had a moment to realize how close he was to you before masks were torn from faces by your hand and lips met lips in a kiss balanced in his hot and your cold; a kiss so passionate steam wafted as your mouths parted.

It was under the snow-heavy branches of that tree where your hands first explored each other. Not in heated sexual passion, but with the desire to map out every detail you could, so when the two of you parted ways again you would always be able to mentally trace those lines, commit them to memory like a well-read book.

Kuai Liang had suspicions of a budding relationship between the two of you. If anything, you had to wager that he probably knew your true feelings for one another even before the two of you figured it out for yourselves; but he wouldn't bring it forth. He knew you two needed to figure it out at your own pace.

After all, his friend was still nursing a broken heart from the loss of his wife and child. But he knew this was still good for him, for the two of you, for both clans.

Hanzo Hasashi had finally fallen in love again.

🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

Your first real "intimate" moment with Hanzo was when you showed him to the hot springs in the mountains. Heat, ice and snow all together in a blissful harmonious oasis.

Not unlike your love for one another, a peaceful respite in tumultuous times.

"This is... Beautiful." Hanzo said, his breath coming out of him in a cloud that swirled with the snowflakes. "But won't it still be too cold to bathe?"

You chuckled and pulled off your mask. Shaking your hair free of icy flakes. "Well, Hanzo, that's why the goal is to stay in the water. Where it's warm."

He blew out a chuckle and shook his head. "Obviously." He turned and looked around, the red leaves of the maple trees surrounding you casting a beautiful scattering of color among the white and gray.

"But it--"

His voice died in his throat as he watched you strip your uniform from your body.

You held no shame, clearly, as you stripped bare in front of him, your wonderous body on full display for his longing, hungry eyes.

You took pride in your athletic frame, muscles and soft curves in all the right places, your body a gorgeous shell for the violence you were capable of committing.

His dark eyes met yours, a twinkle dancing in their depths as your smile reached your ears. You beckon him towards you, your fingers curling in a silent request for him to come closer.

It is a silent request his body obeys before he realizes he's even moving, his blood rushing in his ears.

When your fingers wrapped around his tabards you begin undoing each bit of his ornamentation slowly, peeling it off of him like a juicy piece of fruit you couldn't wait to take a bite out of.

Maybe you would... later.

Once he was naked, you gave him enough dignity to spare looking between his legs, knowing he wouldn't be ready for you to look at him there just yet, you felt like he would set the very air ablaze; each snowflake that landed on his body melted with a soft hiss as it came into contact with his skin.

At first you were concerned that maybe he was too hot, that the spring might make him sick with the extra heat added to his body; but as you sank into the water, he didn't seem bothered in the slightest. In fact, his eyes continued to take your form as he thought you weren't looking.

Every scar told a story, and he wanted to hear them all, wanted to hear a symphony of your voices together as you breathed your love into one another s lungs as you shared scorching kisses.

You could have sat next to him. You could have.

But you didn't. As shameless as you were, you sank down in front of him between his parted knees, slowly, a soft noise escaping you as the water crept up your cold body and you pressed your back against his chest.

You pretended not to hear the sharp inhale of breath as his raging erection pressed firmly against your back, the heat from it almost hotter than the water you were reclining in.

You hummed softly as he slipped his arms around you, pressing a hot, damp kiss to your icy shoulder.

You'd swear he could probably leave burns with those lips of his.

"Hmm... How did your meeting with Lord Raiden go, Hanzo?" You ask him, sliding your hands up his thighs and to his knees, feeling the knotted muscles tighten and flex beneath your touch.

"Ah..." He said, his voice tight in an effort to control himself.

"It... Went well. Young Takeda was there, it was good to see him again."

"How is Takeda doing?"

"He's spending more time with his father, and I believe he and Jacqui Briggs are officially a couple." Hanzo chuckled.

"That's good, they're a nice match." You sigh, relaxing into him more, maybe, just slightly intentionally grinding your ass against his cock.

His arms tighten around you and he leans in, his lips at the shell of your ear.

"You're playing a dangerous game, my lotus." He growls.

"You know me... I live for danger." You purr, grinding against him once more.

He groaned in your ear and rolled his hips to meet yours.

"I have to ask..." Hanzo said, one of his rough and calloused hands rising to give your ribs a feathery touch.

"I'm experienced, don't worry." You assure him playfully.

"Good..."

Was that... disappointment you heard in his voice?

"Awww..." You reach back and comb through his ebony locks. "Hanzo... Are you sad you're not my first?"

"No..." He lied. "I'm merely content to know this will be fully enjoyable for you, then."

You gladly take a mental note and stow that information away for a later scenario you wanted to play out with him...

"Hanzo?"

"Hmm?"

You turn your head slightly and capture his mouth in an awkwardly-angled kiss, teeth and tongues grazing, nipping, and twining together in a passionate affair.

You lift your hips enough in the water so the head of his cock is squished between your thighs. You roll yourself against him, letting his cock stroke between your legs as you flex your muscles, gripping him as tight as possible.

"Agh... You truly live for danger, hm?" Hanzo groaned hotly in your ear. His hands kneaded your breasts, his fingers heating up as he pulled and twisted your nipples in time with the lazy rolling of your hips.

"Hanzo..." You keened softly.

"You need to stop." Hanzo said, gripping your hips, effectively stilling you.

You pout in protest, and look at him over your shoulder, waiting for an explanation.

Hanzo's tongue darts out to lick at a bead of water that rolls down your shoulder, and nips at the skin, there.

"When I finish, I want it to be inside you." He growled against your skin.

His voice and the way he was touching you sent a jolt of excitement racing up your spine.

"Yes." You breathe, your heart beginning to flutter in your chest like a flighty bird.

"Do you want me, my lotus?" Hanzo asked you. "Do you want me inside you?"

"By the Elder Gods, yes." You reply, your voice shaky but certain.

Hanzo quickly helped you up, turning you around so your breasts were squished against the rocks below you, your hands balling in the snow, ice creeping out from beneath your fingertips.

You eagerly spread your legs for him, water rolling off your body as his searing grip kneaded and squished the flesh of your ass, spreading your cheeks as his chest heaved while his eyes drank in your swollen and waiting sex and prone form.

"Hanzo, please?" You pant, pushing back into his grip.

His cock twitched at the sight of you, at the feel of your icy skin in his hands. Any normal person would be a shivering mess, being practically face down in the snow. But not you. You were Lin Kuei, a cryomancer.

His little ice lotus.

He gripped the base of his cock and took his time lining up, a small smile crinkling the corners of his eyes as you squirm impatiently.

He wasn't sure why, but something told him to raise his hand and slap your ass in a reprimand.

The squeak you made at first gave him the impression that he'd seriously hurt you, but when he noticed how demure you became, he chuckled softly.

"Behave, lotus. You must learn patience. It is a ninja's greatest asset." He said, his chest tightening as the tip of his cock slipped through your wet folds, the walls of your pussy gripping him in a greedy vice.

"Please, Hanzo..." You cried softly, trying to sink yourself deeper against him to sheathe his cock fully in the waiting velvet of your body.

Hanzo's hands prevented that, and it frustrated you, but your complaint died before it could form as he slowly eased himself inside, inch by torturous inch, until the tip of his cock just barely kissed your cervix.

He certainly had girth and length that was definitely going to make you see stars, tonight... His size complemented the roped muscles all throughout his body.

You make a deep, throaty moan as his weight settles into you, your muscles squeezing him down, trying to pull him deeper.

You feel the short coarse hairs that reached his navel brush the skin of your ass as he brought his hips firmly against yours.

He leaned in, kissing up your back and over your shoulder until his mouth was at your ear.

"How do you want me, love?"

"Fuck me hard. Please?"

He kissed your shoulder, biting down and sucking the skin, marking you as he pulled out and slammed his hips back in.

Your cries shook birds from the trees, the sensation of his balls slapping against your clit sending shivers up your spine, the pressure of his cock pounding you and pressing against that one divine spot within you, each drag of the vein running up his length driving you further and further into madness.

No other man you'd ever been with had been so precise or skilled in the art of sex.

Your previous partners were paltry compared to the sharp, angled thrust of Hanzo's hips, his cock cramming into you at such a harsh and heavy rate that you swore you were going to cum at any second, gushing around him, leaving a nice creamy ring at the base of his dick as he fucks into you like a man possessed.

He grips your shoulders and pulls you up against him, so your back is pressed against his chest.

His hands rise to your breasts, his fingertips almost glowing as he pinches your nipples, the soft mounds bouncing and jiggling in his hands with each upward thrust of his hips into yours.

"Hanzo!" You cried out, tossing your head back with a wail of ecstasy, your vision going cross as he brings one of his searing hands to your clit, rolling vigorously, the heat feeling like it set every nerve in your body alight with fire.

"Come for me." He softly commands.

And just like that, your body obeys him, clamping down, squeezing him, trying to mold yourself around him; commit his shape and size to memory so he and only he could ever fuck and satisfy you ever again.

He hisses out a breath, steam rising in waves off his body as he fucks up into you again, riding out your orgasm as he rapidly approaches his own.

Hanzo eases you back down, his hand sliding up your sweaty, chilly spine as he tips his head back, his lips parting in a moan as he cums, jerky thrusts and loud whimpers from you as his boiling hot load paints your insides a nice, pearly white, threatening to burn a hole right through you.

He lazily fucks you, some of his spend leaking out around him and dripping down your thighs as he rides out the blinding high that took over every range of his senses.

Once the two of you regain your breathing, he keeps you firmly seated on his cock as you both sink back into the water, relaxing as the heat soaks through your chilled core while Hanzo gently pours palm fulls of water on your skin, massaging your shoulders.

"Mmmh..." You sigh, relaxing against him as he kisses the top of your damp head.

"You seem content." He chuckled.

"Hanzo, I'm pretty sure you're going to have to carry me back home." You laugh. "Had I known what kind of weapon you were packing, I would have been just slightly more hesitant..."

"Only slightly, hm?"

"Just a bit." You murmur, kissing the knuckles of one of his hands.

Hanzo grins and plants a kiss over the bruise he'd left on your skin.

"You will get used to it, my lotus."

#mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat smut #mortal kombat 11 #scorpion x reader #mk scorpion #scorpion mk11 #hanzo hasashi #hanzo hasashi x reader #hanzo hasashi x you #scorpion x you #🌙 answered

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sitp-recs · 10 months

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15 fics with Harry pursuing unusual careers

I love the adrenaline and potential angst within the Auror partners trope as much as the next guy, but we can all agree that our mental health improves 10 times when we see Harry leaving the Ministry, embracing other possibilities and making his own destiny. This rec list hopes to celebrate those creative, disruptive, feel-good fics that are not afraid to come up with the most absurd positions and original job titles. They can be fun, smutty, depressing, hopeful or cathartic; there’s a little bit of everything in here and I’m hoping to bring some hidden gems into everyone’s radar, too. Happy readings!

Twisted Wizards by Enchanted_Jae (T, 3k)

Draco is just putting his life back together when Potter comes along and mucks it all up again. Job: storm chaser

The R. Correspondence by noeon (T, 7.5k)

While working on the Bagshot papers, Draco makes an important discovery for British Wizarding History. Now if only Harry can keep him alive long enough to enjoy it. Job: private security consultant

Per my last letter (I hope you choke on it) by @fluxweeed and @lastontheboat (T, 10k)

Or: the one where Harry has writer’s block and Malfoy isn’t helping. Job: writer

Home County, orphaned (G, 10k)

Harry is an architect and the reluctant part-owner of his own firm. Malfoy works at The Ministry but doesn’t actually have a proper job title even though what he does sounds as though it’s pretty important. Job: architect

A Working Title by mindabbles (E, 12k)

Another in the long line of absurd biographies finally drives Harry to a desperate act. How desperate he doesn't know until his ghost writer shows up at his door. Job: Daily Prophet columnist

An Improbable Bout of Summer Madness by acari (E, 16k)

Draco had planned a quiet, peaceful summer holiday with his son. The last thing he expected was to find Potter here, in Draco's little Cornish retreat. Making fudge in a shop? The idea was too ludicrous for words. Job: fudge shop owner

The Strongest Affinity by @eidheann (T, 17k)

Trouble finding a wand for Scorpius leads Harry and Draco to something they never imagined. Job: wandmaker

Phoenix Repair Services by carpemermaid (E, 20k)

Draco hires a suspiciously private wizarding handyman to fix his kitchen when he returns home to find it destroyed. He expects a middle-aged wizard with greying hair and a pudgy gut to show up. Instead, he gets Harry Potter—with a utility belt and a charming smile—who is more attractive than he has any right to be. Job: Handyman

The Snitch-Maker by Omi_Ohmy (T, 21k)

Draco is content with his Snitches, with the tap tap tap of his hammer, and the tiny gears and sharp scent of metal in his workshop - until one day Harry Potter appears, asking for help to solve a rash of Snitch-tampering in the Quidditch world. Job: QUABBLE official (Quidditch representative)

Silhouettes in Sunsets by Pie (T, 22k)

Draco Malfoy was a Gringotts accountant by day and a luthier by night, making musical instruments that sang the language of the player’s heart, language audible only to the ears of his soul mate. Harry Potter was a struggling quill pal to the children of war and the owner of Hedwig’s Owl Emporium on Diagon—haven for future pets, owls retired from services and orphaned chicks. Job: Owl Emporium owner

Better To Burn Than To Fade Away by Ren (E, 23k)

Harry Potter is a legend in the world of broomstick racing. He's won almost every cup, trophy, and bowl – except for the historical London-Nome which has been on hiatus for the past several years. Now the London-Nome is starting again, and Harry will do anything to pull off one last big win. Job: broomstick racer

Doing the Lambeth Walk by @blamebrampton (T, 26k)

There are only three traditional choices for the cashed-up hero after victory. Harry Potter is too young to settle down and provide the wizarding world with a happy ending, and has too acute a sense of humour to spiral downwards into a spectacular flame-out. That leaves a life of good works. Job: Owner of a Social Housing and Care Centre

All Roads by @korlaena (M, 36k)

Draco hates his job at the Prophet. He hates it even more when he’s assigned to write an article on Harry Potter, who left the country three years ago after their falling out. Draco doesn’t want to face the truth about himself, but he’s stuck between Harry and his duty, and he’s out of options. Job: Magizoologist

Whimsical by strawberryrose (T, 42k)

In which Draco is completely out of his depth (until he isn’t), Harry builds something improbable with the help of his friends, and everyone bonds over food. Job: amusement park owner

What Shall Not Be Unearthed by @iero0 (E, 49k)

At the northernmost point of Shetland, surrounded by pointed cliffs, towers the Ootsta Lighthouse on a small isle in the middle of the open sea. Little does Harry know that he's not the only new lighthouse keeper. Draco Malfoy is as obnoxious as he always was, with his posh tone of voice and his luxury yacht jumpers. Job: lighthouse keeper

#Sitp recs #Drarry reclist #HBD Harry week #odd jobs

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inspector-constable · 10 months

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Aziraphale and the Gray Area: Why is he like that though

Good omens season 2 spoilers ahead

One of the things religious trauma gave me is a strong sense of right vs. wrong. The idea that there is always a right way to do things or a right course of action, and to not do things that way is simply wrong. This is more than just feeling afraid of being punished for doing the wrong thing; it feels like part of my identity. I think of myself as a good person, so I want to do good things and I want to do the right thing. If I choose to do the wrong thing, I lose myself and I lose what I value in myself. Sometimes it’s a good thing to feel like this, it’s what led me away from a religion that preached hate. Sometimes it’s not such a good thing, because I can hurt people by trying to do the right thing, or by trying to put my personal sense of morals onto other peoples’ situations. I have been picking through my beliefs for over a decade trying to confront and dismantle the harmful ones. It’s a painful process and it takes a long, long time.

How much longer must it take for a literal angel, a servant of God? We have the pleasure of seeing this process in Aziraphale through the ages, and it’s a lot slower than fans want it to be. I think people see Aziraphale in his moments in the gray area - lying, disobeying orders, being a bastard, enjoying human food, and loving and trusting a demon - and they think that he must be just fine with being in the middle: mostly right, a bit wrong, very human. But that characterization oversimplifies and misses Aziraphale’s true nature.

The sense of justice and good vs. evil is central to who Aziraphale is. He is not just another angel following commands; he is doing what he truly thinks is right no matter what the consequences may be. He ends up being quite a bit more good and loving than any of the other angels we meet, because he isn’t okay with doing what he knows is wrong. He knows it innately, but also he knows it because of what he was taught. When you’re taught that hate and violence and greed is wrong, but then you see hate and violence and greed being perpetuated by your teachers, you start to wonder where that dividing line really is.

That’s where the gray area comes in. When Aziraphale gives away his sword, he’s aware it’s not technically the right thing to do, but decides it is the actual right thing to do to protect Eve and Adam and their child. Same as when he lies to the angels about Job’s children, only this time instead of fudging the truth and avoiding the confrontation, he has to make a direct choice to do something that is technically wrong - lying - in order to avoid doing something he really, really knows is Wrong - murder. In this case, he’s not okay with lying despite it being wrong, he’s okay with lying because it is the right thing to do. It still causes a large amount of internal conflict when he thinks he will be sent to Hell for disobeying, but that fear of punishment didn’t stop him from doing what he thought was good.

For Aziraphale, the gray area is not about being a little bit evil, it’s about fudging the Rules and disobeying authority in order to remain completely good. Since Crowley is in the gray area with him, surely Crowley must be in the same boat of wanting to do the Right thing. Throughout thousands of years of history Aziraphale never stops arguing the side of Good, trying to convince Crowley to do the right thing. Sometimes he finds that Crowley was actually right all along, and then Aziraphale can feel safe to align himself with whatever the demon is doing. Sometimes Aziraphale even tries to convince Heaven to do the right thing with him. During Armageddon, Aziraphale avoids telling Crowley the truth because he thinks it would be better to get Heaven to stop doing the wrong thing. And he’s right, a lot of problems would be solved and life would be easier if Heaven would listen to Aziraphale and stop inflicting their harmful views on the world.

It would be nice if Aziraphale would realize, at the end of the first season, that Heaven is not interested in being good or even being right; they just want to win. Aziraphale is too naive and pure to believe that of Heaven. After everything, he still wants to be an angel, and he still wants to be part of a Heaven that is doing good. What he did at the end of season 2 is not at all out of character for him. It makes perfect sense that he would want to take the opportunity to change Heaven for the better. Anyone can see what a delightful place it would be with Aziraphale making the decisions. Angels could drink hot chocolate and stack books in their offices or pop down to Earth to go to the theater. Humans could live without worrying about Armageddon or the Great Plan or having their lives destroyed over a bet. And demons (or at least one specific one) who were good and loving could be forgiven and become angels again so they don’t have to be forced to carry out evil acts and always be looking over their shoulders.

Aziraphale didn’t do what he did because he doesn’t accept or love who Crowley is. He just genuinely believes that Crowley is still an angel deep down and that Heaven is where he belongs, where he could be the most happy. A better Heaven, where Crowley could create stars to last millions of years and put anything he wanted in the suggestion box. Aziraphale wanted to create a life for them to be together without any more worry of secret meetings, gray areas, and war. When Crowley rejected that life, it broke Aziraphale’s view of Crowley and his goodness. As ridiculous as it sounds, Aziraphale never expected that Crowley wouldn’t jump at the chance to be an angel with him again, and now his perception of their relationship is shaken.

Ultimately, Aziraphale can’t be so selfish as to choose to run away with the being he loves, when he knows he can do so much more good if he returns to Heaven. And so in trying to do the right thing for everyone, Aziraphale does the wrong thing for Crowley and himself. This is what is so hard about Aziraphale’s gray area; it cuts both ways. He has so much learning and unpacking to do, and I’m afraid he’s going to find that he will have much less power to change Heaven than he thought. All we can do is beg for a third season and then Wait and See.

#just my thoughts #writing this to try to heal myself after the finale #tv review #good omens #good omens season 2 #good omens spoilers #good omens season 2 spoilers #gos2spoilers #gos2 spoilers #aziraphale #michael sheen #religious trauma #exvangelical #character study

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minnesota-fats · 2 years

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I have seen many of Talia and Bruce are Dannys parents and heard of Danny being Selina's son and but NEVER have I saw Danny still being Maddies son, but Bruce is his biological dad too.

( It could be from a very drunken one-night stand and while Jack knows Danny isn't his biologically, he still treated him like his son which made Maddie love him more )

Maddie doesn't even bother telling Bruce out of fear he might use his money to take Danny from her and the whole Playboy Image wasn't helping.

Like imagine the meltdown from Damian since he's not the only blood son on top of being the youngest son to boot. And if he sees Dani he slowly gaslights himself into thinking she's the secret love child of his father and Selina and might worries there is some weight to Bruce's Playboy Image and there's a 4th blood sibling out there.

Talia wondering who the heck is this Madeline Fenton and how the HELL did she get give Bruce a son first? She's now in the top 5 on her shitlist.

And Vlad having a stroke at the realization that Danny is NOT Jack's bio son but freaking Bruce Wayne, the Playboy from Gotham. And if Bruce and Vlad don't like each other than this will be even more hilarious.

I have seen a fix with Jason as the blood father and Maddie still his mom but not Bruce!

I wonder how they would have met, Maddie and Bruce? Was there a engineer convention at Wayne tower? I bet Bruce had to go and Maddie and Jack were there because SCIENCE!

But Jack probably ran off leaving Maddie at the bar and Maddie just straight up NOT having a good time because this was the 90’s and if I am not mistaken a good chunk of the engineering field was male dominated and a bit misogynistic. And she got fuckin’ plastered and in her drinking haze might have even mistaken one tall black haired blue eyed man for another and decided that leaving with an equal (probably less so but still) drunk Bruce was DTF this random red head because he was also sick of all the misogynistic scientists around. (Also we all know that Bruce has a thing for women who can kick his fuckin ass!)

Or if your not into that the only other thought I had was Jack and Maddie have an open relationship and the reason Maddie doesn’t date Vlad is cuz he’s a big creep! (Jack would so date Vlad if he was given the chance!)

Anyway, after she wakes up and takes one look at the man next to her and is like, “that’s not Jack…” before hightailing it’s out of there!(probably in some sort of eccentric way) She looks for her actual husband the morning after. She realizes what has happened and was going to go home and sleep off her hangover before she tells her husband what had happened. Depending on the scenario Maddie would either be a bundle of nerves or she would be excited to say she found out she slept with Bruce Wayne of all people. (Even though he is known for his Brucie persona, both Jack and Maddie know no simple minded man can run a business like Wayne Industry’s)

Either way Jack would be hyped cuz BRUCE FRICKIN WAYNE!!!! And when he found out Maddie was prego be ever MORE FUCKIN HYPED cuz OH MY FUDGE ANOTHER BABY! (They may not be the best parents but they sure as shit love their kids) Maddie isn’t sure she should keep Danny but seeing Jack so excited she realized it didn’t matter because if he was so happy and she would be happy too.

Cue danny being born and Jazz being a big sister who is very excited to finally know where babies come from (and for her new baby brother I guess). Years later it probably would have never come up again but Vlad during his cloning phase decides to look into Danny’s dna some more. “Probably jacks dumb dna messing with their proses!” (Vlad would so gaslight himself into believing that even though intelligence doesn’t effect dna) and he finds not a sing bit of Jack in Danny.

After recovering from the shock of it Vlad starts scheming, comes up with a plan to use this to drive Jack and Maddie apart. Goes to Jack and in the most dramatic way possible tells Jack about the SHOCKING discovery that danny isn’t his son!

And Jack is like, “oh I know that! And don’t be silly Vlad! Danno might not be mine biologically but he’s still my boy!” And Vlad is about to rip his hair out because of course Jack wouldn’t be bothered with that! What a FOOL!!!

Then Vlad thinking he could salvage this decides to tell Danny who just thinks Vlad is fucking with him until Vlad barrages into the house at 9 am after looking more into who Danny bio dad would be and in the most offended outrage Danny has ever seen from the older halfa says “you slept with BRUCE WAYNE????” To Maddie causing both Danny and Jazz to spit out whatever the hell they were eating all over the table. (Jack: I know right? Pretty cool!!)

After that discovery Danny yeets himself into the ghost zone cuz wow, isn’t that a world shattering discovery to be thrusted upon you at 9 in the morning!

How the Batfam find out I’m not entirely sure? Maybe Danny wanted to meet him (probably not) or maybe it was ghosts hearing about it from some fight that Vlad and Danny have in the GZ and spreading rumors from ghost to ghost until it reaches the undead ears of Boston Brand (Deadman) who tells Constantine or Zatana who tell Bruce who just is plain confused as to why ghosts of all thing would know he has an unknown son (who may be dead???) Or maybe Talia finds out first and sends assassins to kill Maddie (who takes them on like a fuckin’ champ!) and Bruce follows the league of Assassins activity and finds that one woman he had a one night stand with and sees her son who looks too much like him to be a coincidence. Or maybe Damian found out first and this was when he first came to live with Bruce and he was still a little murder-y. He fucking tracks Danny down and is like “there can only be one!” And Danny is like “one what???? But jokes on you there is also more than one of me!” (Dani/Elle) thus causing Damien to go into a rage only to be stopped by what ever Batfam came to stop him! (Danny: what’s with the small angry child?) Dami pouts but moves on. (Can’t kill what’s already dead, maybe???)

Either way Danny would be welcomed into the bat fam with open arms! (Dami is reluctant but comes around when he finds out about Cujo (Dami: and I guess Danny is ok too))

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cherryslyce · 1 year

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Second Son (VII) | Regulus Black

Series Synopsis: Forbidden from contacting Harry over the summer, you opt to explore the eerie halls of Grimmauld Place where you stumble upon a lonely portrait of the House's second son.

— Chapter Synopsis: The summer before your sixth year is another fruitful one spent at Grimmauld Place. Regulus and Y/N have an insightful conversation and grow closer than before.

Part VI / Part VIII / Series Masterlist

Pairing: Regulus Black x GN!Reader

Notes: Cheers to another summer break! The not canon compliant warning is starting to become more apparent. The slow burn is burning a bit.

The weeks following the confrontation at the Ministry left the Wizarding World at a standstill, the alleys and streets seeming to grey and titter in jumbled whispers and conspiracies. Minister Fudge could no longer make a public enemy out of Harry, having witnessed the return of Voldemort for himself. Unsurprisingly, Fudge resigned shortly after Dumbledore was reinstated.

Despite the retreat of public scrutiny from his back, Harry fared no better than he had the summer before, conceivably managing far worse. You don’t remember much after Sirius’ attack, only that Luna quickly rushed to your side and grabbed Regulus’ portrait from your hands, hiding it in your jacket as Auror Tonks made her way over to your glass-eyed form.

You could never thank Luna enough because you distinctly remember being unable to feel your limbs due to shock, and you’d rather not have to explain your portrait predicament. Tonks’ words barely registered, but you heard one thing loud and clear: Sirius was not dead.

But he did not get better.

Currently, he occupied a suite room at St. Mungo’s, his consciousness torn away as he remained in a frigid coma. After Harry had recovered from his clash with Bellatrix and Voldemort, he had nearly tackled you to the ground, realizing that your quick thinking to grab Sirius with your spell was the only reason he was still alive.

Breaking the news to Regulus was difficult since you knew how much he loved his brother, despite the strained relationship they had. Regulus was devastated by the news and he seemed to pale further when you told him that it was Bellatrix that got him. Pureblood family issues were so complicated.

After your brief conversation about Sirius’ status, neither of you had the energy to talk about Regulus’ disappearance, so you ended up pocketing away his portrait.

Despite the relief you felt because Regulus was back with you, you couldn’t bring yourself to face him just yet. Your reluctance to face him again led you to leave him in your pocket for a few weeks without talking to him.

However, you knew you’d have to face him eventually, and it was just the opportune time to do so. Harry and the Weasleys were going to spend the summer at the Burrow, but you pleaded with Dumbledore to allow you to return to Grimmauld Place under the guise that you would research ways to help Sirius.

Bellatrix had hit him with a highly complex dark curse, one that was foreign to the healers at St. Mungo’s, meaning that it was likely a curse found in the Black library.

Your excuse wasn’t a lie, but it was far from the whole truth. You also wanted to further explore your magical connection with Regulus and the disappearing room, still perplexed by the wisp of magic you felt last time. But it seemed that there was little use hiding that fact from Dumbledore, as he gave you a small, all-knowing smile before giving you permission, “The world seems to have strange ways of bringing people together. I do hope you find what you are seeking.”

At first, your heart nearly gave out because you assumed that he had used legilimency on you, but your ring gave no indication of it, so you presumed it was just a Dumbledore thing.

It seemed that Dumbledore and Luna were aware of Regulus’ existence to some degree, which was no surprise, one was a legendary wizard, the other an understated seer. Their knowledge only served to worry you though, as you weren’t confident that Voldemort was none the wiser to Regulus’ existence now.

If Dumbledore knew with what limited time you spent around him, there was no doubt Voldemort was itching from suspicion.

Vengeance was practically Voldemort’s middle name (even if Harry insists that it’s Marvolo). You still had no idea how Regulus had wronged Voldemort, but you weren’t sure if you wanted to find out for the sake of your own sanity.

As the green flames engulfing your vision slowly dissipate, you carefully step out from the floo network and brush away the ash from your clothing. Spinning around, you faintly smile at the nostalgic environment. Grimmauld Place was far from a welcoming home, but it had a certain knack for bringing along pleasant surprises.

Before you can set out to dive into research, a popping sound has you whirling your head downwards towards the noise.

“Master Regulus’ friend is back” Kreacher’s voice is tuned with surprise, but he looks pleased to see that you’re alone, evidently still not as accustomed to your friends or the Order members. You were secretly quite flattered to have the elf’s approval–not that you’d ever admit it to anyone.

Grinning down at the elf, you wave as he moves to grab your trunk, “Hi, Kreacher. I’ll be here awhile, I need to research a few things to help your Master.”

“Help Master?” Kreacher turns his eyes to you in apprehension.

Nodding solemnly, you release a small sigh before answering, “Yes, he’s been in an accident.”

At your words, Kreacher’s grip on your belongings loosen, turning to look at you with a face full of anguish, “What is wrong with Master Regulus?!”

Sputtering a little from shock, you quickly placate the elf, still reeling at the fact that he was capable of that much worry, “No, no, Regulus is fine. I’m talking about Sirius, he was cursed by a dark spell and the healers don’t know how to fix it.”

Kreacher’s tense form relaxes considerably and he grunts, turning back to his task of gathering your items, “So, Master Sirius still breathes? Pity.”

Expecting a far more violent response at the news, you simply nod, allowing silence to blanket between the both of you. You briefly considered asking the elf if he was knowledgeable of Bellatrix’s ledger of favorite curses, but decided it would be your last resort.

You weren’t sure if Kreacher would be of much help considering it involved Sirius.

“Kreacher, I’ll be in the library. You can put my things in the guest room I stayed in last summer.” Your words are met with a slight nod and that’s all the sign you need before you’re bounding up the stairs and in the direction of the expansive library.

Much of the content filling the shelves of the sealed library were enigmatic, but you hoped that you could kill two birds with one stone and find information for both of your goals. How lucky that both of your problems involved the Black brothers.

As you trailed through the aisles of shelves, running your finger along the leather-bound books, you sighed as you realized you were putting off your chat with Regulus. At first, it was truly because you didn’t know how to breach the subject of his portrait traveling, but now it was also because you felt guilty for avoiding him for so long.

Rip the bandaid off, stop stalling or he’ll really leave this time around.

Reaching into your jacket, you carefully extricate the frame out of your pocket, bringing it to eye-level. Plastering on an unsure smile, you feel relief flush through your veins as Regulus greets you with his own soft smile.

“Little bird, it’s been a while.” Regulus’ voice is smoother than you remember, and you find yourself shuffling around as your heart begins to pound uncomfortably. Bloody crush giving you heart palpitations.

“Hi, Reg. It has been. I’m sorry for not talking to you sooner, I’ve just been thinking.” Even though your excuse was flimsy at best, Regulus shakes his head firmly, as if all was forgiven on your part.

Warmth shines in his eyes as he alleviates your worries, “It’s not your fault, it is entirely mine for mindlessly leaving you alone that day without a word.”

Shocked by his initiative to bring it up first, you can only nod mutely as he continues, “I’m sorry, Y/N. My reason for leaving…it was entirely childish, and these few weeks of not communicating with you allowed me to contemplate some more. I want to be honest with you, if you’re up to hear it.”

“Of course, and I want to be honest with you as well, Reg.” Your nod and soft smile seem to strike a chord in him, causing him to emit a low laugh of fondness.

Tilting his head to the side, his eyes seemed to shine brightly at you, “You’re always honest with me, little bird. I think I owe it to you—to us, to be transparent this time around.”

You have to make a conscious effort to stop his ‘to us’ from replaying over and over again in your head.

Huffing in playful annoyance at his ability to endlessly fluster you, you decide to take a stab at his declaration, “Alright, if you’re sure, then…I guess we should start with the most obvious question, why did you leave that night?”

Dragging his hand up to tuck a loose curl behind his ear, he gives a little pause before answering you, “I was scared.” Seeing your confused look, he continues, “I was scared because…your injury. When I saw it, I was furious–and not at you, but towards Umbridge. I was terrified because I care for you… so much, but there’s nothing I can do to help you in those kinds of situations.”

He cares. It was so different hearing it verbalized by him.

The stress weighing on you seems to melt away, the furrow between your brows letting up as you lightly come to your own conclusion, “So you left because you were angry.”

He shakes his head lightly, “It was not just anger, but also fear. Frankly, I feel a sense of devotion to you and I was frightened by it. I left because I thought that it would be logical to languish my connection to you, but I realized how foolish my thoughts were. I am stuck with you, just as you are stuck with me.”

His words were genuine, but you could tell he was dancing around a deeper meaning. Still, you were glad for his honesty. It was a step forward in your relationship.

You feel yourself getting choked up by his announcement, but before you can even muck up a response, he continues, “I was anxious that day, before I even took notice of your wound. Before you casted that muffliato, I had heard the blast and thought that you were being attacked. But I waited to hear your voice, maybe a reassurance that it was all okay. When everything became muffled, I was worried that you were hiding everything from me because something was happening to you.”

“Oh.” Well, when he put it like that, it’s no wonder he was so furious that day.

He nods at your realization, finishing his explanation quietly, “You are so kind, little bird. Even in that moment where you could have been in danger, you still put your consideration for me first. It’s scary to think, but I know…I know that I would do the same if the roles were reversed.”

“You know that I care for you deeply as well, Reg. We’re in this together.” It comes out slightly watery, but your words are firm and the vulnerable glint in your eye eased Regulus’ tension.

Reinvigorated by Regulus’ words, you decide to bring up the topic that had been troubling you for a while, “I was honestly unsettled by my attachment to you as well. I’m unsure of what to make of it, some days it feels unreal. I just don’t understand it all because logically, you’re a portrait, but deep down, I know that there is so much more to you. You’re not like any ordinary portrait I’ve stumbled upon.”

Nodding as if expecting the topic to be brought up, he straightens up and clears his throat, “I suspected you felt this way, and honestly, I’m not entirely sure why I’m so different. I know there might be a few possibilities as to why, but I feel as though I am missing a part of the answer, myself. When I left you that night, I was able to spy on a few portraits in the castle. Of course, I couldn’t reveal myself since they would have recognized me, but, from what I observed, most portraits are not as…dynamic as me. Even the most complex ones at Hogwarts seem to be entirely derivative.”

Not quite expecting Regulus’ loss for answers as well, you can only seem to reach one conclusion, “So the answer to all of this…it happened shortly before your death then?”

“Yes, it’s highly likely. After all there was a two week gap of radio silence between the last visit from my living-self and his untimely death.” Regulus’ confirmation has you suppressing a groan. It seemed like you wouldn’t be getting a clear answer so easily, but perhaps Regulus left clues on the research he was doing before his death around the library.

Humming as you feel a headache coming on, you decide to let the topic drop there, “It’s okay, we don’t need all the answers right now. But I’m glad we had this conversation, and I hope that in the future we can continue to be honest with each other.”

Regulus smiles at you, “Of course, little bird. But I’m curious, any news on my brother or about the Dark Lord?”

A small frown tugs at your lip as you’re brought down to reality, “No changes in Sirius’ condition, but I’m hoping that maybe we can find some clues here. Unfortunately, Voldemort is making his move in bold ways, he’s truly an incisive foe. He murdered Amelia Bones last week, it was all over the press, even the muggles covered it.”

Taking notice of how your voice catches at the end, he returns your frown, “I didn’t know you were fond of Madam Bones.”

“I was quite partial to her morals, and she was an accomplished witch, to boot. Plus, I know her niece. She has no guardian now. Voldemort murdered her parents during the war.” Shaking your head at the turn of events, you can’t help but feel a sense of unease at Madam Bones’ death.

Voldemort was moving rather quickly. There was no telling what his next move was going to be. This wasn’t the first time he was able to strike down a famously powerful wizard or witch, even in his revived state, he was just as remarkable of a wizard. He was slowly removing the pillars that held up the Light side’s confidence, at this rate, Dumbledore was going to be the only one left to look to.

No use in overwhelming yourself, take it one day at a time.

Lowering Regulus’ portrait slightly, you begin to peruse through the book titles on the shelves, trying to find anything synonymous for “dark curses and hexes”. You were hoping that the search for the curse would be quick, but unfortunately, it seemed that the entire library was just pooling to the brim with parchments about the Dark Arts.

“Hey, Reg. Do you have any idea where Bellatrix might have learned such a troubling curse? Any area of the library I should focus on?” Your words were meant as more of a joke, but Regulus’ contemplative expression has you stopping in your tracks to focus your attention back on the boy.

Rubbing his chin, he seems to map out some ideas in his head, “During our last conversation, the day Sirius was cursed, you said his muscles seemed to constrict before he went limp and then he dropped into a coma?”

You nod in confirmation at the pointed assessment, wondering just how useful the symptoms could be at narrowing down the possibilities.

Why couldn’t Bellatrix have used another curse of milder lethality with far more ridiculous effects? Coma, really? Why not puking up tarantulas or something? While it would make for a ghastly sight, it would be ridiculous enough to make the hex more apparent.

After a few more moments, Regulus seems to have a lead of some kind, “I don’t have an exact answer, but it does remind me of a time when I was younger and Bellatrix would talk in circles about experimenting with soul magic. She wanted to impress the Dark Lord, so it’s no doubt something of that caliber.”

“Soul magic?” You punctuate the words in disbelief, realizing that the circumstances might be far more dire than anyone could have fathomed.

Realizing that you had no idea where to even begin, you decided to enlist some help, “Kreacher!” You weren’t exactly sure if it was necessary to yell, but the action soothed some of the stress you were suddenly feeling.

A pop echoes around the library and Kreacher stands before you in mild irritation, “Kreacher has been called?”

Placing a hand on your hip, you try to seem authoritative with your command, “Yes, Kreacher I need your help. Could you gather up all the books on the property that concern soul magic or soul hexes?”

The elf’s eyes seem to light up at your words, clearly thinking that you were taking interest in the Dark Arts. The prospect wasn’t exactly improbable, but you were much too reluctant to choose soul hexes as an introduction.

“As you wish. Kreacher will begin right away.” After giving you a razor-sharp grin, he’s gone in the blink of an eye and you hear a distant pop ring from deeper in the library. Hopefully, Kreacher could be trusted to keep your little research topic a secret, you would not fancy having to explain to your friends why you were researching such a dark subject amidst Voldemort’s return.

As you begin to make your way out of the room, you bring Regulus’ portrait back up to your face, “Reg, there’s something interesting I discovered the night you left. I was wandering around the castle-” looking for you “-and I spent the night in the Room of Requirements. Except it wasn’t exactly the Room of Requirements.”

Regulus looks both intrigued and full of reproof at your words, compelled to hear about your adventures, but displeased by your decision to break the rules and risk being punished further.

Brushing aside his concerns, you continue, “Well, while I was wandering around, I was thinking about you and where you might be, and the room that ended up appearing was the disappearing room that your portrait was originally in.”

Finding yourself in the kitchen, you carefully prop Regulus up against an empty fruit bowl before rounding the table to raid the cabinets. To your utter dismay, all the cabinets are empty, save for one filled with numerous knives. Groaning at the lack of food, you decide to plop back down in front of Regulus, cradling your empty stomach pitifully.

Shooting you an amused eyebrow raise, Regulus seems to consider your findings as you continue to mope, “That is fascinating. If it was truly the same room, then it must be as a result of something my human counterpart did whilst he was still alive. When I was first painted, the room already existed–that much I know. Although he was the only one who ever came into the room, I thought very little of it at the time.”

“It seems that all the answers about the strange magic surrounding you and the disappearing room vanished with him. How frustrating.” Your groan is cut off with a loud grumble from your stomach, causing you to slap a hand to your middle bashfully.

Entertained at your embarrassment from the strident noise, Regulus chuckles before putting you out of your misery, “Kreacher will be awhile with the books. It’s fine, go out and grab some food, we can talk after you’re done.”

Nodding glumly at his suggestion, you quickly pocket his portrait and feel around for your pouch of galleons. Once you’re ready to head out, you grab a handful of floo powder and ready yourself for human interaction.

Merlin, you were so looking forward to being a recluse the entire break.

The feeling of becoming a hermit only grew as the rest of the summer dragged along. Kreacher managed to snag a little over a dozen books about soul hexes and magic for your research, keeping you occupied indoors for a majority of the break.

You only managed to stay sane because Regulus kept you company, and for that, you could never repay him enough.

The last few days of July flickered by and soon you were preparing yourself to enter the familiar floo network to make your way to the Burrow. It was finally Harry’s 16th birthday, and you intended for it to be a happy one, needing some semblance of normality as war shifted on the horizon.

“Little bird.” Regulus’ voice pierces through your concentration as you finish taping the last fold of wrapping on Harry’s gift.

“Hm?” Your distracted hum has him rolling his eyes playfully.

Tilting his head, he finally speaks up once your eyes meet his, “You do know that there’s a spell to do the wrapping for you?”

“What? And miss all the fun?” Your teasing words have him looking unimpressed, “Besides, it has more meaning to do it by hand, Reg. You can see all the little imperfections, for example, this little uneven crease on the bottom.” As you show him the bulky wrapping, he can barely disguise his look of amusement.

Shaking his head, he crosses his arms as a pensive look crosses over his expression, “We should try something before you head out.”

Tying a silk ribbon around the wrapped gift, you peer up at him in interest, “Sure, what’s on your mind?”

“I think we should try out those charms you found a while back.” His words surprise you since you figured he still held reservations about the risks of the Mens est Oculus charm.

Sitting up straighter and reaching for your wand, you can’t help but voice your confusion, “Not that I’m opposed to it, but why now?”

“It would put me at ease to be able to talk to you, just in case.” His words are touching and you’re much too pleased to dismiss his concerns. On the one hand, you were only going to the burrow, on the other, you were aware of how risky it was to be out and about since death eaters were slowly strengthening their forces.

Giving him an understanding nod, you furrow your brows in concentration before casting the charms. Luckily, you had much time to imprint the movements and incantations in your head so it only took a little pause to cast.

Quirking your lips in uncertainty, you slowly bring your wand down, unsure if the charms were put into place.

‘Reggie? Can you hear me?’

‘Impressive work, little bird. Not that I doubted you.’

Gasping loudly at his voice, you reel back in your seat to gape at a pleased looking Regulus, “Woah!”

Laughing at your shock, Regulus opts to merely respond through your newfound mind link, ‘Woah indeed. Now, it’s about time for you to head out, no?’

As you tucked Regulus’ portrait away underneath your pillow and headed down to the floo network, you couldn’t help the victorious laugh that escaped you.

It seemed that every summer was more eventful than the last, and you were hopeful that you could spend many more summers in the future with the boy who was slowly winning over your heart.

Reaching out into your mind link one last time, you send Regulus a fleeting farewell.

‘Stay safe, little bird.’

And then green flames were filling your vision.

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