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luvsavos · 6 months

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Hey, it’s the Aiden anon again! I’m sorry bro, but I don’t have Discord, but I’m STILL SUPER interested on your thoughts on Aiden. PLEASE I’m begging you Mr. Martin, I need a MASSIVE text post from you about him. And honestly it’s for my friend too. Aiden is her babygirl. She has been in love/loved him since 4U and we both are always so excited to see him.

oh hello again!! it's no worries that you don't have discord, i definitely do Not at ALL mind going on a ramble about my boy, though i absolutely apologize in advance for the length of this post LMAO

for the most part until after the events of iceborne, my interpretation of him is fairly close to canon, though there is Some differences or original things here and there so disclaimer in advance since i'm maintagging this for canon divergence, this is my own little au that i am completely normal and not at all insane about; all of the stuff post-fatalis is based on rps with a friend so there's a Lot

if you/whoever's reading this just want my general Thoughts on aiden as a character and not my whole batshit insane au lore stuff, that'll be at the bottom of the post! (sorry)

when he was a kid, he was pretty carefree as you'd expect, he loved to help out around the village when he wasn't off playing with the other kids or his little sister (i don't think we ever got anything about his bio family in canon so this was entirely just me making things up LMAO). when the elder dragon activity caused the monster stampede that destroyed his village when he was only 7, he tried desperately to save people (specifically his sister) but, of course, failed, and i BELIEVE i'd headcanoned that he watched At Least One of his family members actively get gored/trampled by some monsters?

obviously the entire experience left him with a fear of monsterkind, and even into adulthood it still weighs heavily on him and likely occasionally causes nightmares and the likes. running blindly from the stampede with absolutely no sense of direction nor semblance of anything to help him survive in the wilderness, it's a miracle that he came across timben when he did, and naturally the people there took him in. though still weighed down by his trauma, aiden did his best to be as helpful around the village as possible, and he quickly became popular among the villagers for his willingness and readiness to help out wherever he could, and for his cheerful, outgoing personality. eventually, he decided he was tired of being frightened of monsters, so he took to studying them and making puns of their names as a way to cope and make himself less afraid of them. all this is pretty much just canon so far, from the legends of the guild movie (save for the parts about his old village, other than the stampede thing; i think that's the only real details we get about his home village?)

and then, of course, when he was fifteen (this isn't his canon age, i don't entirely know how old he's supposed to be in lotg? i THINK 17-18 but cmon he gives me the vibes of Unmedicated Adhd Teenager. fun fact julius is only 4 years older than aiden so that makes him 19 in this so that doesn't make a ton of sense but its fine i can ignore that, bro's already stressed himself to the point of white hair LMAO i think i'd make him a bit older than that though, maybe in his mid-late twenties?) came the elder crossing, and with it came julius, to warn timben of an oncoming lunastra that was headed in their direction. honestly idk why i'm recapping this canon stuff but listen i love talking about aiden okay ahdnsbfjgn

since the villagers refused to budge, aiden accompanied julius to go see the elder dragon for himself so that he can tell the villagers so they'll evacuate, and of course imprinted onto julius like an orphaned (ha bad joke) duckling along the way

don't need to recap all of lotg since it all plays out the same way; he admired everyone that helped try to fight off the lunastra, but he particularly looked up to mae like an older sister (this would later lead him to naming a kinsect paisley in honour of her's), and he still in present-day keeps her journal. the entire experience was... rough on him. he didn't feel any sense of victory, just a sort of hollowness and guilt---he blamed himself for mae and ravi's deaths, considering it was his impulsive suggestion to fight the lunastra rather than run that got them killed. it also left him with a permanent terror of lunastra specifically (this will come into relevance somewhat a bit later), and it solidified his resolve to become a proper hunter, so that he could learn how to properly fight monsters and protect people like he wanted to, and ensure nothing like that would happen again.

now here's where we start to get a Liddol Bit of canon divergence; anyone who's talked to me about my au knows that i REALLY like the idea of the guild being not as clean and morally sound as they like to seem---i really like exploring the concept of corruption within it, and the shady practices they keep under wraps. after all, power tends to breed corruption, and even if it's run by wyverians and Is primarily dedicated to genuinely trying to preserve the balance, the guild IS an incredibly powerful and influential organization (if not the single most powerful/influential one in the mh universe), and that's likely going to inevitably attract people who don't exactly have the best intentions in mind.

so! the guild. guild knights. we know that the knights are sent out to deal with poachers and the likes via apprehending them and/or killing them. that already means that, more than likely, our sweet boy aiden has human blood on his hands. so why not delve into that? aiden tended to prefer to stick to just helping protect and maintain the safety of places rather than do the whole Killing People thing, as i don't doubt that the concept of taking another human/wyverian/etc life upsets him. HOWEVER. early on into his days as a knight, he was sent out with a group of unfamiliar knights to deal with a velocidrome that was "causing problems" in a small village. the problems? it had been injured, and an old woman that lived some distance away from the village had taken it back to her house and nursed it back to health, and it chose to simply Stay, and that made the villagers uneasy. honestly, it wasn't really causing any genuine issues---it was just existing and choosing to stay with the person that had saved its life. the orders were clear cut: deal with "the problem" by any means necessary. aiden was gentler than the others (who were far more shady and... much less well-intentioned than him), but the woman was resolute in that she wouldn't let them kill the drome. so, as a "rite of passage," so to speak, the other guild knights forced aiden to kill not only the velocidrome, but the old woman as well. Guild Trauma, Babey!

the experience left a lasting mark on him, and he never told julius or the other ace hunters what exactly happened, but they could all tell that Something had based on how quiet and somber he was for several days after the incident. that was the first human life he took, and while he's undoubtedly had to kill poachers and other people who genuinely Were in the wrong, knowing that he has innocent blood on his hands has remained with him even long after he left the guild to join with the research commission. i'm nice to my faves i swear (<- lying)

so! fast forward to the commission, since there's not much else of importance for his guild days (yet, once i play 4u/gu this might change). this is where things really start to get divergent as they involve my ocs so buckle up lads we're going on An Adventure™️

like i said, really things are Mostly the same until post-iceborne; rather than a proper hunter, my player character oc is a "rider" that was raised by an anjanath so rather than kill all the monsters (though he doesn't have much issue with doing so) in the story some were simply communicated with and/or relocated if necessary, ie the agitated pukei, vaal hazak ("without a vaal hazak the entire rotten vale ecosystem would collapse!" [kills vaal hazak anyways] thank you monster hunter very cool!)

aiden takes a liking to the field team leader (achilles, as my friend i rp with named him<3) and they grow closer throughout base world, enough so that aiden ends up his second-in-command in seliana (this appears to be canon? idk he can be seen giving out more direct orders during the defense of seliana quest while ftl gives out generalized ones and theyre Always Seen Together except for in One (1) cutscene, post-velkhana death (i'm normal about them i promise) and theyre both at the council table right next to each other.....), things are Nice, everything's Great

and then Fatalis Happens. canonly, as i recall, aiden Nearly Died because of fatalis. like. lea/serious handler talks about how if he'd died she doesn't know how she would've kept going, aiden talks about how thinking about julius and ftl gave him the strength and willpower to keep fighting (totally normal bro things to say just guys being dudes am i right) and Not Die, it's a whole Thing. so my interpretation of aiden has a TON of absolutely AWFUL burn scars across the right side of his body from that. they're obviously nowhere near as bad as they COULD be, since i'm assuming he had some fire res on his build (that feels weird to say when not talking about gameplay), but they're still Bad because. well. fatalis LMAO

fast forward an indeterminate amount of time (i don't think my friend and i ever decided on how far after fatalis our stuff is💀) and everything's Great. here's where the balls to the wall canon divergence starts btw! shang, my "rider" oc, has helped people learn that some monsters can be reasoned with, and the monsters he's befriended are allowed about the base and the reach as they please (even if some AHEM VUGEL (my bastard of an ebony odogaron) COUGH are an absolute hindrance on purpose). aiden and ftl have gotten together by this point. shang's taken in a lot of orphaned monsters, one of which is a little lunastra that he's named chang'e, that seems to sense aiden's unease and tries to capitalize on it, but shang (halfheartedly) tries to hold the young elder dragon back from doing so.

one particularly notable monster around base is a gold-crown sized namielle, "nami," who's pretty much adopted shang. she's warm, motherly, and after the initial unease of having An Entire Elder Dragon around wore off she quickly became a familiar and welcomed face. another is the mountain god, shara ishvalda themself, having chosen to try to aid the commission as a way to "apologize" for the damage and chaos their presence in the everstream caused. nami's presence attracts a tall, foreboding man, with white hair and a beard, scars across his face, a permanent resting glare, and piercing golden eyes---he speaks very little, and when he does it's in a low mutter, and he seems to be observing the people of seliana. his presence is dread-inducing and sparks much unease, but nami is ecstatic to see him, stating he is an old friend who she hasn't seen in ages. for some time, things continue normally---until an argument between shara and nami breaks out, and the imposing stranger reveals his true nature as a dire miralis-sized white fatalis; the destroyer moon, alaakiilah, he who wiped out the ancients in a single night, in order to get the pair to cease their bickering.

aiden ends up being absolutely fascinated by al---sure, he's scared shitless of fatalis, but all the same... a fatalis, there, IN seliana, the fatalis of legend, and he's... not attacking them. granted, it's because he knows nami is fond of the mortals there, and he begrudgingly promised her that he wouldn't do anything to them, but still. the moon god is begrudgingly tolerant of aiden, and eventually achilles as well, as the pair typically don't stray far from one another (unless they Do, but that's not relevant right now), and eventually, through sheer persistence in his fascination, aiden (and achilles) are allowed the one single highest honour one can have: the permission to touch alaakiilah's beard. much as he might disdain to admit it, al ends up being genuinely, albeit begrudgingly, fond of aiden, and aiden's all but dadopted him (he's collecting white haired father figures, isn't he?). this comes into more relevance later.

after some time, al comes across an abandoned fatalis egg (i have my own whole Thing on fatalis eggs and reproduction in general but that's its own post LOL), which he brought back to the supply cache (after achilles offered to let him nest there with the egg) to incubate, and after a day, it hatches, into a tiny, defenseless, harmless baby female fatalis, which namielle names yunhind---that translating to "new hope," in honour of how no fatalis in recorded history has ever been raised in proximity to mortals before, and the destroyer moon's decision to trust in the commission to not fuck things up. the little one immediately takes a liking to aiden, and though he's more than a little nervous at first at the prospect of babysitting the destroyer of humanity's adopted child, he quickly becomes more confident in it as she grows and he becomes more attached to her---it makes him think back to his younger sister, and his inability to protect her, and he's determined to make sure absolutely nothing happens to yunhind.

there's a whole Thing that happens with the guild, having learned of the abundance of monsters around seliana, threatening achilles to try and pressure him into killing and/or relocating them all to "protect the people," then taking matters into their own hands when he refuses---this entire debacle (affectionately dubbed The Guild Arc, Part One) leaves aiden shaken up as it confirms a lot of his fears and doubts that have been building under the surface for years on end now.

fatalis mature quickly, even when naturally hatched, and within a few months, yunhind is a fully grown and wholly unique fatalis, dubbed an "ashen fatalis" due to adapting to her surroundings and taking on the properties of ice element as well as fire (they're interchangeable, though her ability to use both at once is somewhat limited), and the unique ability to transfer energy to heal others, and her scales being an ashy grey colour. she spends most of her time in her human form, and she views aiden like an older brother. things settle back down around base, and everything is okay again.

until it's not, of course<3

achilles goes missing, which stresses aiden out, naturally--and then vodrem happens, because nothing good lasts forever. well, vodrem happens Again, but i hadn't started rping aiden by the first time, so uhhh. idk he was on a vacation in the old world i guess?? that was an entire Year before the second Vodrem Event

now, dear reader, you're probably wondering, "martin who the fuck is vodrem", which is a VERY good question! vodrem is my nonfandom/multiverse god of chaos oc, who's part of his own little original oc bubble, though they're all based on monhun monsters; vodrem in particular is based on nergigante and morodumunto, though he usually takes the form of a not-quite-right nergigante

he makes a habit of consuming entire universes for breakfast, lunch and dinner, and psychologically tormenting people just for the hell of its. he's power hungry, immensely dangerous, and cunning.

in his wake, he leaves "instabilities"; where the very fabric of reality itself gets fucked up, and these can have a variety of effects on anything that enter the area, but the most common has been people getting turned into monsters. the five were INCREDIBLY meticulous about mending any left behind after the first vodrem event, and they made absolutely certain to mend them all.

but a new one appeared. one which aiden wandered into---the change wasn't instantaneous, it started with just feeling sick and feverish, with heat specifically concentrated in his chest, to the point that it would get unbearable and he'd have to lay in the snow just for some relief, and finding his temper to be increasingly short and explosive. then came the headaches and soreness of the throat, and tiny black scales forming across his skin. then the desire to find some small space outdoors, perhaps a cave or the likes, though he ended up seeking comfort (ironically) in the destroyer moon's presence. i'm sure you can see where this is going, yes?

of all the monsters in the world, it had to be a fatalis. because of course it would be. as you'd expect, this caused him an IMMENSE amount of distress on top of the distress he already had from achilles' absence. for some time, there were no other signs of vodrem, and yunhind and al (mostly yunhind) helped aiden learn How To Fatalis.

and then all hell broke lose, as it does with vodrem. he claimed to have killed achilles, and though aiden had been trying his absolute damndest to suppress the fatalis rage and instincts, he let them overtake him---he went after vodrem, intending to unleash an ocean of flame upon him... didn't SUCCEED, all he got was speared through the lung and his back torn into by vodrem, the wounds afflicted with what was dubbed as "tarblight"; a corrosive, highly painful substance that vodrem secrets that seems to only be able to be cured by vodrem himself or his much more well-intentioned brother, vodinok. for the rest of the fight, aiden was simply unconscious, so he doesn't have much relevance for the rest of it. as i recall, one of the five managed to transform him back into a human, and vodinok cured the tarblight while yunhind healed his wounds.

unfortunately for my poor darling aiden, the form of the fatalis is not one so easily controlled, and so despite the five's best efforts, that part of him never really left---strong negative emotions still cause spontaneous transformations, and he's typically very skittish and nervous in this form because of how hard it is to suppress the fatalis instincts. the transformations take a LOT of energy out of him too, and while he CAN force a transformation back, that takes even more energy, so he's usually just kinda Stuck like that for a few days, which he usually spends hunkered in the supply cache, because for as good as he's gotten at maintaining his usual demeanor, the innate rage and violent instincts are always just a breath away from the surface, bubbling and boiling, like a pot of water just seconds away from boiling over. Not at All a fun experience for him!

after this the Guild Arc Part 2 happens, with aiden traveling to the old world with al to retrieve achilles from the corrupt and shady part of the guild who'd come to seliana in the first place; that's a whole Thing in of itself as well, and aiden ends up having to take a few more lives, though the guilt and emotions of, well. Everything, really, don't set in until after its all said and done, considering this entire thing takes place only maybe a few days after the vodrem event, if i recall correctly, so aiden's still more than a little out of it, and the dissonance of everything that happened there only made him even More out of it.

aaaaand i Think that's It? i don't believe i've had him be involved in any major plot stuff since then (aside from the temporary vampire event that was for halloween), so he's finally gotten to have the break that he oh so DESPERATELY needs and deserves... for now! i would like to involve him with more things again in the future (i never did get to write out a storyline where he briefly looses himself to the fatalis instincts---even just using the elemental abilities tend to have that effect on him, so using too MUCH would be Bad---and has to be brought back down from them...), so who knows! maybe he'll end up Going Through It a little bit more, as a Treat<3 the amount of suffering i put my faves through is proportional to how much i like them☺

now then! for my thoughts on aiden as a character; i love him. he's a sweet, caring and well-intentioned person, and i see a lot of myself in him (namely with the Incredibly Obvious adhd). it makes me happy to see a character like him (again, adhd) not treated like the butt of a joke, and instead be shown to actually be incredibly competent and important to the commission. i really hope we see him again in another game in the future, even if it's just as a cameo (he and the field team leader WERE planning to take that vacation to the old world so aiden could introduce ftl to julius........) and nothing else. of all the wonderful characters mh has to offer, i think aiden is by far my favourite i am so incredibly normal about him (this is by far the longest ramble post i have ever made LMAO) and he is just. absolutely Wonderful. my darling beloved my son my everything etc etc. i hope that if he does come back in a future game, if he's Not Just a cameo, we get to do another hunt properly with him; fatalis was obviously the testing grounds for the npc followers in sunbreak, so i'd love to get to do a proper hunt with him now that that's A Thing, if they choose to keep it going forward (and i don't see why they wouldn't, given the positive reception it got). i think that the duality of him being so bubbly, positive and outgoing even despite everything he's been through is interesting, and i find the concept of exploring that trauma to be fascinating because, let's be real, poor guy has definitely been through some shit. NORMALLY if my faves don't have a backstory i come up with one for them but i didn't even Have To give him a traumatic backstory capcom did that for me LMFAO

anyways. thank u for the ask nonnie i am SO incredibly sorry for the length of this post the tism took the wheel, i know i went on a few tangents that weren't that related but ahdkdhfjd i just have A Lot of lore for my au and aiden's been involved in a fair bit of it

#mar.txt #answered #aiden anon #<- you get a tag now<3 #monster hunter #excitable a-lister #monster hunter aiden #aiden monster hunter #ace cadet #not mentioned in this: he's basically the core of what i like to call the Black Dragon Found Family #he attracts fatalis 'like revoltures to a corpse' as ive had him describe it at one point #al，yunhind，my miralis，the crimson fatalis al raised that's just ??? Somewhere in the inactive lava caverns beneath the reach，#my friend's disufiroa.... aiden doesn't like people joking about him being Technically An Elder Dragon Now because he doesn't want to be #associated with being a fatalis since. well. Yknow. but I Mean..... getting technical....................#if theres any spelling mistakes and/or typos in this pls don't perceive them im not going back and checking everything for them LMAO #i tried my best to not typo all over the place and fix them when i made them #like with the last one if you or anyone else wants to dm me here on tumblr to talk about anything in this post feel free!!#(just uh i'd prefer nobody maul me for the canon divergence pls ahaha)#long post #very long post

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lxclerc · 1 month

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𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 ─ 𝐨𝐩𝟖𝟏

summary: where oscar has done everything in his power to make his feelings for you as obvious as possible, but you are simply quite clueless to the poor boy’s advances pairing: oscar piastri x driver!reader warning: fluff, oblivious reader

note: i wrote this in two hours and it's purely for fun. i did not bother thinking about how realistic this could be at all so it's a bit ridiculous i think

masterlist

sometimes, oscar just wants to run into a wall and knock himself out.

maybe that would shake his brain enough for it to formulate a plan for you to finally realize all the oh so awfully obvious hints he’s been dropping. he’s been so obvious that the entire world knows it; all the other drivers, mechanics from practically every team, reporters, fans. literally everybody has picked up on his pitiful attempts at catching your attention but you.

or maybe he needed to push you down a flight of stairs and knock you out for you to finally figure out that he likes you as more than friends. because at this point, it’s starting to get ridiculous. he’s been pursuing you since f3. in every ridiculous challenge with prema to every track walks and everything in between, he’s done everything possible to show you that he likes you, fancies you, absolutely besotted to the sound of your voice.

that never seems to discourage him though, if anything, it only makes him like you more. robert once joked that you’d put a spell on him and oscar can’t quite deny it if he’s being honest.

“y/n, wait up!” he called to you right before the driver’s parade, leaving lando behind him, who whispered a quick good luck to him.

hearing your name made you turn to him, an instant smile on your face that made oscar’s heart violently lurch forward. most of the time, you preferred to keep your hair in a tight ponytail, wanting all the little strands out of your face when you’re on track but this time, strands had fallen off the paintail, framing your face in such a perfect way that knocks the breath out of oscar’s lungs.

you’re perfect in his eyes all the time of course; even in the few times you’d pushed him off track, but there’s something so ethereal about you when your smile is for him.

charles, your teammate, and lewis whom you were previously talking to subtle stepped away from you in order to give the two of you a moment. charles throws oscar a small thumbs up with that maniacal smile of his whenever he’s fortunate enough to be able to watch oscar absolutely get crushed by y/n’s cluelessness every time he tries and drops a hint to his feelings.

“hey, osc,” you greet, easily falling into step with him.

“hey, how’s the down under treating you?” he asked, trying to act casually as he buried his hands in his pockets.

he winced at his own words. how’s the down under treating you? really?

at least you seem to find it amusing as you award him with a chuckle, hand instinctively wrapping around his arm the way girls do when they’re really comfortable with you and don’t want you to get lost in the crowd. you only ever do it to him (and he’s made sure to check) and it never fails to quite literally turn him to mush.

“you know i’ve adored it!” you gush. you love australia, this is no secret to everyone , so much so that you’ve joked about it being your second home race, to which oscar have always enthusiastically nodded in agreement to. “charles, alexandra and i went cafe hopping all around melbourne yesterday.”

oscar hummed, trying to hide the hint of disappointment in his face that you hadn’t asked him to accompany you like the few times in the past but he knows that you and charles’ girlfriend have formed a very close friendship. “is that so? i’m glad you had fun.”

you smile up at him. “how about you? i reckon it’s nice being back home, isn’t it?”

“absolutely. the family’s been asking about you, by the way.” he just wanted you to keep talking. you could talk his ears off for hours and oscar would never complain.

you face instantly light up at that. “i’ll make sure to drop by the mclaren garage later. i miss nicole.”

“she missed you too,” he says before clearing his throat. “so um, are you immediately flying out tomorrow?”

you shook your head. “no, i’m planning to stay for a couple more days.”

“oh good.” he thanked god his hands were buried in his pockets so you can’t see how much they’re shaking. “you’re free tomorrow then?”

you nod and he nods back at you awkwardly. “yeah.”

“oh good.” stop. stop. he already said that. “do you want to check out that restaurant we went to during f2 maybe?”

your face lights up again and your hand that’s holding on to his arm squeezes it ever so slightly in excitement. “oh absolutely. maybe i can bring charles and alex along and you can bring lando and logan.”

oscar wanted the ground to just swallow him up. he could probably shout i love you at you while staring directly into your eyes and you’d think he’s talking to someone behind you. one time in f2, he wrote all his feelings for you in a note and gave it to you only for you to hand it straight to robert without even glancing at it thinking he just wanted for you to pass it along. another time, he spent hours and hours trying to gather the courage to wrap his arm around your shoulder only for you to grinned up at him and wrap your arm around logan’s shoulder thinking he’d just wanted the three of you to huddle around. oscar is running out of ideas if he’s being honest.

“that sounds…fun, but i was hoping, maybe, it could just be — you know, the two of us. like old times,” he manages to let out.

“poor oscar,” lando says as he, charles, max and lewis watch your interaction.

“oscar should just kiss her already,” max said.

charles cackled at that, shaking his head. “she’d probably think it’s a friendly kiss.”

“maybe he just needs to shake her shoulder and scream im stupidly in love with you right on her face,” lewis joked as they kept watching the two of you.

oscar watched as you let go of his arm, leaning onto the railing for the parade. you seem to take your precious time twisting the cup of your water bottle open and torturing oscar at the way your throat constricted as you drank water before you turned back to him with a smile. “yeah, sure, osc. i’d love that.”

oscar returned back to the group of boys with a dopey smile on his face, high off of you as lando slapped him on the shoulder in a small congratulations.

charles couldn’t help but laugh at the look of the younger driver. “y/n’s broken him, i think.”

—

logan tried to contain his amusement as his australian best friend fell on his hotel room’s couch with his face buried in his hands, groaning in frustration and looking red in the face. oscar wore a loose white button up with a dark pair of jeans. he’d even worn his nice shoes for the occasion, wanting to be as presentable as possible as he picked you up from your hotel room to see you in the prettiest sundress in the most beautiful shade of blue that contrasted perfectly with your skin.

the two of you ate and laughed and walked around with you holding on to his arm as oscar gathered the courage all night to tell you how he felt.

“and then what happened?” logan asked as oscar groaned, frustratedly running his hands through his hair.

“i told her i love her,” he muttered to himself and you smiled at him with that beautiful smile of yours.

“that’s great, osc!” logan tried to cheer him up, clapping him on the back as he remained hunched over the couch. “what did she say?”

that seems to be a sore spot as oscar only groaned louder, petulantly kicking his shoes off. he can’t quite fathom how such a perfect night turned to him crashing in his best mate’s room so he can vent.

“she said, and i quote ‘aw, osc. i love you too. you’re one of my best friends.’ and then i just about died on the spot.”

logan winced at that, his hand now rubbing on oscar’s shoulder in comfort. “well, maybe next time the wording should be ‘i’m in love with you’?”

but oscar only groaned again. “this is a lost cause. best friend? is that all i am?” oscar starts his rant. “am i just one the many best friends in her life? will we drift apart after we both retire? at this point, i’d count myself lucky if i ever get invited to her wedding. maybe if i want to push my luck, i could be the fucking godfather of her kids.”

and logan only winced again because he never even thought someone could be that clueless and oblivious.

—

“you look beautiful, y/n,” oscar tells you as he passes you by the media pen, ignoring the cameras and lando’s knowing grin.

“thanks, osc. you look quite handsome yourself.” a dust of pink covers your cheeks as you smile at him, hand reaching to squeeze his lightly as you pass him by, being led by your pr team.

for a moment, oscar freezes on the spot, unable to stop the way all his blood rushed to his cheeks and the smile that stretched across his lips.

“mate, pull yourself together,” lando teases, pushing oscar forward to get him out of what lando dubs as the ‘y/n l/n induced lovesick daze’.

a reporter who’d seen the entire interaction couldn’t help but laugh as she said; “y/n truly is quite a sight, isn’t she?”

oscar didn’t think his cheeks could get anymore red as he nodded. “she always has been the most beautiful girl.”

lando playfully rolled his eyes as he and oscar continued on. if he was being honest with himself, even he is getting tired with the constant pining between you and oscar. the boy could scream at the top of his lungs how in love he is with you and you’d still think it’s all platonic. this entire thing was getting a bit too pitiful for both of your friends to watch.

which is why charles and lando have taken it upon themselves to finally force you to see what’s right in front of you. oscar loved you too much to even think about putting you in any form of uncomfortable situation even if it comes at his own expense, thankfully for lando and charles, they don’t share the same sentiment and so the two got to planning.

it was simple enough really. lando grabbed oscar by his collar, dragging him all over the paddock towards the ferrari motorhome.

“lando,” oscar whined behind him. “what the fuck are you doing?”

“trust me, mate, this is for your own good,” said his teammate, ignoring all the cameras that had gathered around them, following along.

“can’t you at least let me walk on my own?” oscar complained again, hunched over as lando quite literally dragged him by his mclaren shirt’s collar.

lando shook his head. “nope. i legitimately cannot handle this not going the way it’s meant to again.”

in the distance, both mclaren boys heard you voice your complaints to charles as your teammate held you on the shoulder to keep you in place, a group of mechanics and engineers huddle around the two of you, watching in curiosity,

finally, lando let go of oscar, allowing him to stand properly as the younger boy threw a glare at him while fixing his shirt. then he found himself face to face with you, confusion all over your face as it finally dawned on him what this is all about.

“oscar?” you asked, looking between him and lando along with the group that had accumulated on their way to ferrari. “what are you all doing here?”

lando and charles folded their arms over their chest as charles motioned towards the two of you. “we figured the only way for you to finally get it is if there’s an audience.”

“get what?” you asked again and oscar, palms already sweating in front of you and looking as though he’d rather get struck by lightning awkwardly cleared his throat.

“well get on to it, oscar,” lando says though his accent makes oscar’s name sound like oscah and oscar almost wanted to punch him there and then.

again, oscar awkwardly cleared his throat as you finally face him. “y/n, i have to tell you something.”

you motioned for him to continue. “okay. what is it, osc?”

“i don’t know how else to tell you this without being upfront about it so—”

“what’s going on here?” and at the moment, fred vasseur stepped into the scene, confusion all over his face as he found practically half the paddock inside his motorhome, all of them crowding around you and oscar.

everyone groaned, charles threw his hands up in frustration and lando wanted to bang his head against the table. “fred, you’re my boss, but please stop talking.”

fred was just about to say something else when charles physically dragged him to his side to shut him up.

you turned back to oscar, encouraging him to keep talking even though you would have preferred more privacy.

“i like you a lot,” he finally blurts out. “ever since f3. no, way before that. ever since karting.”

you smile at him kindly. “i like you too, oscar. i told you, you’re one of my best friends—”

every one groaned, cutting you off and oscar shook his head.

“no, y/n. you don’t get it. i don’t just like you. i’m very much in love with you,” he emphasized, remembering logan’s words about wording it properly as he took her hand in his shaky ones. “like…i want to spend my life with you kind of in love with you.”

you eyes widened in surprise and a part of oscar had thought that maybe you were just in complete denial the entire time but he realized now that you truly, absolutely had no idea about his feelings. he doesn’t know which one is worse if he’s being honest with himself.

“well, why didn’t you tell me, osc?” you ask gently.

“love,” he starts softly, the nickname effortlessly rolling off his tongue. “i can’t count anymore how many times i’ve told you and how many times i’ve tried to tell you and how many times i tried to show you.”

“i never noticed.” for a moment, you seem completely dumbfounded and he couldn’t help the laugh that escaped his lips at the adorable way your mouth parted in surprised. you’re adorable, beautiful, gorgeous and every other adjective even if you unintentionally made his life hell the past few years.

“that’s alright,” he reassures you.

you couldn’t help but smile shyly at him as you squeezed his hand. “well, if it makes a difference, i’m very much in love with you as well. like…i want to spend the rest of my life with you kind of in love.”

at that, he laughed again, pulling you towards him as your lips crashed together.

and everyone fucking cheered at that.

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#f1 x reader #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri fluff #f1 imagine #f1 smut #f1 #formula 1 #f1 one shot

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sunsburns · 2 months

Text

kiss of life (ii.)

pairing: luke castellan x aphrodite!daughter reader

part one

summary: i actually suck at writing summaries but basically this is part two of part one of that soulmate au fic i posted a week ago lol

—or: luke castellan is being haunted by kronos and... well, you.

word count: 6.42k

warnings: sorry for any spelling errors, i haven’t checked yet, suppperrr angsty, luke castellan pov as he's slowly being corrupted by kronos, long reading time, descriptive injuries, blood, pre-tlt, luke is stubborn and a dick, loser!luke, annabeth smacking some sense to luke, grover being an icon, reader is lowkey unreliable tbh... cliff hanger (again... lmfao sorry)

a/n: part two!!! thank you guys for all the love on the first part! i am so grateful for everything and i love reading all the comments and reblogs. i hope this one doesn't end up flopping lmfaooo. i honestly wanted this to be a short angsty fic but i got carried away and now i'm planning a whole multi-part fic for this, phew. anyways enjoyyy <;33

At eighteen, Luke was cursed with nightmares.

They clawed at the edges of his mind, threatening to unravel the fragile front of peace that he had fought so hard to maintain. Each night, he would awaken drenched in a cold sweat, the echoes of his tortured dreams lingering in the corners of his mind like a haunting melody.

The Hermes cabin, once a sanctuary from the outside world, now felt like a prison, its walls closing in around him with each passing moment. The moon, a silent witness to his torment, cast its ethereal glow through the window, illuminating the slumbering forms of campers. Some were children of Hermes, like himself, bound by the tenuous ties of blood and kinship. Others, however, were unclaimed, their parentage shrouded in mystery and uncertainty.

And as Luke lay awake in the stillness of the night, a sense of loneliness washed over him like a tidal wave, drowning him in a sea of doubt. In the depths of his troubled sleep, he could feel the tendrils of darkness closing in around him, threatening to consume him whole. And try as he might to deny it, he knew that his nightmares held a deeper significance, a harbinger of events yet to unfold in the shadowy pits of fate.

His nightmares were callings. A taunting voice would echo through the corridors of his mind, its insidious whispers weaving a thought of deceit and manipulation. It masqueraded as a voice of reason, a beacon beckoning him towards a destiny that promised demigods everything.

At first, Luke dismissed it as nothing more than the ramblings of a tortured soul, the byproduct of his own restlessness. But as the whispers grew louder and more insistent, he could no longer ignore the chilling realization that they were something far more sinister—a call to arms, a summons to embrace his role as a harbinger of the new world.

The nights he wasn't shaking from night terrors, he was tossing and turning at the thought of you. And he didn’t know what was worse. He couldn't escape you. The haunting image of you lingered in his mind even during sleep — your lips, your eyes, your skin, your voice, and that shared scar and your demise.

But at least, you'd given up on him by then. Your persistent efforts to reach out to Luke gradually dwindled into nothingness. Though you were still everywhere, a shadow that seemed to torment his every move, you no longer gave him even a fraction of your attention.

Gone were the days of you seeking him out, your footsteps no longer echoing in the halls of Camp Half-Blood in search of him. You refrained from asking for Chris's help, no longer burdening him with questions on Luke's whereabouts. The notes you once left behind were now relics of a time long past, their words fading with each passing day.

And as the full moon rose once more over the waters of the lake, you no longer waited by its shores.

Luke turned in bed, his mind restless as he tried to shake the image of you. He pulled the covers tighter around himself, seeking comfort in the warmth they provided, but the chill of unease still lingered in the air.

His gaze drifted across the row of beds, each a testament to the diverse personalities that inhabited the Hermes cabin. The floor was strewn with a chaotic array of sleeping bags, toys, and discarded clothing, while a collection of rocks adorned one corner near the closets, and drawings adorned the walls.

Despite the usual chaos that reigned during the day, the cabin now lay quiet and still. The children of Hermes, along with the unclaimed children and the ones of minor gods, had finally settled into the embrace of sleep.

But amidst the calm, a sense of unease gnawed at Luke's consciousness. He couldn't shake the feeling that had settled over him after he noticed the empty bed and the slightly ajar door.

Luke pushed back the covers and rose from his bed. His footsteps echoed softly as he made his way toward the empty bottom bunk, hoping not to wake anyone. The sight of an old penguin stuffed animal discarded at the foot of the bed made him edgy. His eyes trailed to the traces of blood splattered on the hardwood floor, stark against the dim light filtering through the cabin windows.

With a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, Luke picked up the toy, its soft white and black material now stained with crimson. Clutching it tightly in his hand, he made his way out of the cabin, the urgency of his steps echoing in the stillness of the night.

He knew all too well who the missing camper was – five-year-old Penelope, one of the newest arrivals to Camp Half-Blood and possibly one of the youngest campers. Found wandering alone in the woods near the camp hill just a week ago, she had been brought to safety by a group of fellow demigods on a quest. Luke couldn't shake the resemblance she bore to a younger Annabeth, with her wide eyes and insatiable thirst for knowledge. He wouldn't be surprised if Athena claimed her as her own one day–that is if he ever found her.

Luke's worry for Penelope weighed heavily on his mind, a knot of anxiety tightening in his chest as he combed through every inch of camp. The traces of blood he discovered fueled his unease, each droplet a stark reminder of the dangers lurking just beyond the safety of the camp's borders.

In his search, Luke traversed familiar paths and hidden corners, his footsteps echoing in the quiet stillness of the night. He scoured the armour, the climbing wall, and the camp store.

Luke had known all about campers disappearing, whether it be on a quest or to escape and try to live a normal life with humans that never really lasted long enough as monsters would dwell within the shadows outside of camp.

It was in the dim glow of the kitchen lights that Luke finally caught a glimpse of Penelope, perched on the counter in her pyjamas, her hair adorned with two loose pigtails. A sense of relief washed over him at the sight of her safe and sound, yet it was short-lived as he noticed she wasn't alone.

His hand hovered over the door, hesitating as he listened to the soft murmur of conversation from within. With a steady breath, Luke pushed the door open ever so slightly, peering through the crack to catch a glimpse of Penelope. And you.

You, who looked older than when you first met in the infirmary. There was an air of maturity about you, a gracefulness that hadn't been there before. Your features seemed more refined, your presence commanding attention in a way that spoke of inner strength and resilience. Luke couldn't help but notice how your beauty had blossomed, surpassing the standards of mere mortal allure. It was a beauty that seemed to defy classification, uniquely yours yet undeniably captivating.

Despite this, Luke sensed a shift in your demeanour—a resignation, perhaps, to the reality of his ignorance. You had lost any hope you once harboured for him. His guarded nature would forever keep you at arm's length. And while part of him knew that this was for the best, a small, almost imperceptible part of him couldn't help but feel a twinge of regret.

For in the crossroads of his heart, amidst the shadows that threatened to consume him, there lingered a faint glimmer of longing. The thought of being intertwined with someone who could offer solace in his darkest moments, who could bring light to the depths of his despair, held an undeniable appeal. And as much as he tried to deny it, the chance of you approaching him once more tugged at the fringes of his resolve, tempting him to let down his guard and allow you closer than he ever dared to imagine.

"So, you wanna tell me what you're doing up this late?" You approached Penelope with a gentle smile, a cookie in your hand as a peace offering.

Your words hung in the air, gentle and coaxing, as you tried to draw Penelope out of her shell. Luke watched from the shadows, his gaze flickering between you and the young camper, a sense of admiration stirring at how you spoke to Penelope.

Penelope hesitated, her gaze shifting between the cookie in her hand and you.

"You don't know?" You persisted, your voice a soft murmur that carried a hint of playfulness. You settled beside Penelope on the counter, your posture was relaxed as you leaned in closer to her. "Is it... a secret?" you whispered.

Luke noted the subtle change in your demeanour, the way you seemed to adapt effortlessly to Penelope's shy nature. It was a side of you he hadn't seen before, one that resonated deeply with him.

As Penelope nodded in response to your question, you continued, your tone gentle and reassuring. "Let me tell you a secret," you offered, holding up your pinky finger as a symbol of trust. "I am the best secret keeper in this camp. I pinky promise."

After a moment's hesitation, Penelope tentatively reached out, her tiny finger linking with yours in a hesitant pinky promise. A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips.

Penelope murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "I got hurt."

"What?" You gasped in genuine concern, your eyes widening as you shifted your attention to the young camper. "Can I see?"

Penelope nodded silently, her arm outstretched towards you. Luke observed from his vantage point, his heart twisting with worry as he noted the faint hint of red near Penelope's elbow.

You took Penelope's arm into your hands gently, your touch tender and reassuring as you rolled up the sleeves of her pale pink pyjamas. Luke couldn't help but notice the familiarity of those pyjamas, a subtle reminder of Annabeth's kindness and resourcefulness in making Penelope feel at home.

"Oh, wow, that looks like it hurts," You remarked softly, your brows furrowing in sympathy as you retrieved a first aid kit from the nearby cabinets. "You're handling it very well," you praised Penelope, your tone gentle and encouraging. "So brave of you."

Penelope watched you attentively as you began to clean her wound, her small frame tense with discomfort. "I don't feel brave," she admitted quietly.

"No?" You glanced up at her, "why not?"

"I miss my mommy."

Her words were tinged with a sense of longing that struck a chord with both you and Luke.

Luke chewed on the inside of his cheek, his thoughts drifting to his own longing for his mother. Penelope's admission resonated with him deeply, reminding him of the ache that never truly faded, no matter how many years passed, no matter how deep he tried to bury it.

It was a sentiment shared by every demigod at camp, a silent ache that echoed through the cabins and training grounds. Yet, it was a pain rarely spoken aloud as if verbalizing it would make it all too real, too unbearable.

The yearning for a parent, for someone to fill the void left by their absence, weighed heavily on each camper's shoulders. It was a burden they carried silently, masking their vulnerability with bravado and determination. But for Penelope, the longing was raw in its innocence.

At just five years old, she was too young to fully comprehend the extent of her emotions. She couldn't grasp the complexities of her situation, the world of gods and monsters that surrounded her. All she knew was the absence of a mother's embrace, the absence of a comforting presence to soothe her fears and wipe away her tears.

It was a pain she didn't deserve, a burden too heavy for such a young soul to bear. The gods, in their arrogance and indifference, seemed oblivious to the lives they had shattered, and the pain they had inflicted upon their own children.

"Yeah?" You responded gently, "How much do you miss her?"

"This much," Penelope replied, her small hands spreading wide.

"Wow! That's a lot," you remarked, a sombre note underlying your tone as you processed Penelope's words. After a beat of silence, you shook off the heaviness of the moment and mustered a smile for her. "There we go. All cleaned up," you announced cheerfully, pressing a bandaid onto her elbow.

Penelope's smile widened in response, a glimmer of gratitude shining in her eyes as she kicked her feet. In a quiet voice barely above a whisper, she murmured her thanks to you.

"So, you wanna tell me how you got hurt?"

"I don't know." This had been the most Luke had ever seen Penelope talk, and while her voice was still timid, the words slipping out hesitantly, she seemed to confide in you. "I woke up because my arm hurt."

"The cut was just there?" You asked, and when she nodded, you hummed sympathetically. "...I get those too, you know."

Penelope's eyes widened, "You do?"

"Yes," you affirmed with a soft chuckle. "A lot of people do. You get them from your soulmate. Did your mom ever tell you about soulmates?"

"Sometimes."

"Well, a long time ago, humans used to have four arms, four legs, and two faces," You explained.

"What?"

"I know, right? Super freaky. So freaky that Zeus decided to split them in half. So, now we have two arms, two legs, and one face."

"What happened to the other half?"

"That's our soulmate. Our other half. And Aphrodite gave us a gift to help us find our soulmate." The smile that had adorned your face slowly waned, "Every time you get hurt, your soulmate gets hurt too."

"Is that why you have a cut on your face?"

The question lingered, hanging in the air like a whispered secret. Luke held his breath, his gaze fixed on you, waiting for your response. But instead of answering, you reached out to Penelope, a bittersweet smile gracing your lips as you guided her off the counter.

"Let's get you back to your cabin."

Your words were gentle, a soft reassurance for Penelope's sake, but Luke could sense the undercurrent of sadness that ran beneath them. As you led Penelope away, Luke's heart ached in a way that felt so familiar yet foreign at the same time. It burned the same way it did when he returned from the quest when he hated the world and everyone in it, but this time, the only person he could find himself hating was himself.

He retreated from the door, clutching the stuffed animal in his hands. He felt a fleeting reminder of the times he would hide from the monsters with Thalia.

Luke's mind swirled with discordant emotions, each thought a whirlwind of uncertainty. He knew he didn't deserve your answer, didn't deserve the solace of your words. He had made it clear too many times to count that he never wanted a soulmate, never wanted you.

But despite his protests, despite the walls he had built around his heart, Luke couldn't deny the tug that pulled him to you, the hunger in his soul that refused to be ignored. It was a longing he couldn't shake, a yearning that whispered of a connection he dared not embrace. Knowing that keeping you away was the only way to protect you from the darkness that lurked within him was what kept him sane.

"Luke?"

The sound of his name tore Luke out of his thoughts like a violent gust of wind. He spun around, finding you standing on the porch to the kitchens, Penelope at your side. She held your hand, a small beacon of warmth and light in the dimness of the night.

It seemed too perfect, too surreal, and Luke couldn't help but feel a pang of disbelief. Were you trying to kill him? It had been too long since the last time he spoke to you, let alone stood so close to you, and here you were, the epitome of what a demigod should be, even if you were still in the dreaded bright orange camp shirt.

"Hey," he managed to say.

You continued to descend the stairs, each step cautious and deliberate. "What- uh, what are you doing up?"

"I was actually looking for Penelope." Luke motioned to the girl hiding behind your legs. When he caught her eye, Penelope grinned and let go of your hand, darting over to Luke and jumping into his arms. He lifted her easily, a small smile tugging at his lips as he handed her the stuffed toy she had left behind.

"Oh." You hummed, "I didn't know you're a Hermes kid?"

"I'm unclaimed," Penelope chimed.

"For now," Luke's voice was gentle as he held Penelope in his arms. "And what were you doing up?"

"I was looking for a bandaid. I got lost." Penelope's words were punctuated by a soft yawn, and she nestled her head against Luke's shoulder, her exhaustion evident in every movement.

You hesitated, your gaze shifting to meet Luke's. "I found her by the canoes... near the dock."

The silence that settled between you felt heavy, suffocating almost as if it threatened to engulf you both. Luke found himself wandering back to the memories of you waiting for him at the dock during the summer nights and the regret that weighed heavily on his heart for never approaching you. He remembered the countless times he stood among the trees, watching you from afar, paralyzed by his own insecurities and fears.

Were you waiting for him there tonight?

No, you couldn't have.

Guilt gnawed at him, threatening to consume him whole. "Listen, I-"

"I'm gonna go." You cut him off abruptly, your voice carrying a hint of tension. "Counsellor duties and all. I've got cabin checks in the morning so... you know, I gotta print papers... and stuff..."

Luke frowned at your lame excuse. "It's midnight."

"It's never too early to start now." You huffed defensively. "Bye, Penelope."

"Bye," Penelope mumbled sleepily, her hand lazily waving in your direction as you walked away, disappearing into the darkness of the night and the trail leading to the Aphrodite cabin.

As they made their way back to the Hermes cabin, Luke held onto Penelope tightly, feeling the weight of her small body in his arms. The night air was cool against his skin, and he couldn't help but feel a pang of shame for the unease he noticed in you earlier. He wanted to say something, to bridge the gap that seemed to have formed between you, but the words remained trapped in his throat.

Once they returned to the warmth of their cabin, Luke moved with a careful grace, mindful not to disturb the sleeping campers around them. He gently placed Penelope back on her bed and tucked her in. But as he began to step away, her small hand shot out, wrapping around two of his fingers. Luke froze, eyes wide with surprise.

"Luke?" Penelope's voice was barely above a whisper, but it cut through the silence of the cabin like a knife.

"Yeah?" Luke's voice was equally quiet.

"I think your soulmate is really cool."

Penelope's words hung in the air, a simple statement that carried more weight than he could have ever anticipated.

Seven hours later, the memory of your face lingered in Luke's mind like an unshakeable ghost. Tossing back and forth in his bed, he tried to rid himself of the image, but it clung to him like a shadow. Each time he closed his eyes, your face flashed before him, haunting his thoughts. Even when he turned away, the spectre of Kronos lurked in the depths of his subconscious, a reminder of the choice that still loomed over him.

As morning broke over Camp Half-Blood, Luke found himself seated at the breakfast table, surrounded by the hustle and bustle of his fellow campers. Annabeth's presence brought a brief distraction.

She slid into the seat in front of him during breakfast and gave him a strange look, slightly out of breath from the morning rush, a half-eaten apple in hand.

"Hey," she greeted him, her voice carrying a note of concern. Pausing to tie back her braids, she studied him intently. "Who you looking for?"

Luke's response came too quickly, "No one," he replied, his voice strained. Thankfully, Chris had left earlier because he was in charge of the climbing wall in the morning, he wasn't there to tell Annabeth that Luke had been looking for you. His eyes scanned the sea of faces in the dining hall, a futile attempt to catch sight of you amidst the crowd. He felt pathetic. "What's up with you?"

Annabeth raised her brows. "Archery? Together? Remember? Or did you forget?"

"No. I didn't forget."

She only stared at him, skeptical.

"What?" he asked, "why do you keep looking at me like that?"

"Oh, I get it," Annabeth's smirk hinted at a newfound understanding, her eyes sparkling with amusement. She let out a laugh, the sound echoing through the dining hall, as she shook her head and rested her chin on her hand. "How long are you planning to keep this up for?"

Luke frowned, confused.

"This entire act you have with... you know," She didn't need to say your name for him to catch on. "It's getting out of hand, no?"

"I..." Caught off guard by her directness, Luke hesitated, unsure of how to respond. Choosing to play dumb, he feigned innocence. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Right." Annabeth's knowing look pierced through his facade. She was always too perceptive for her own good. Fixing him with a narrowed gaze, she gave him a playful kick under the table, the impact enough to draw a startled reaction from Luke. With a mischievous glint in her eyes, she took another bite of her apple before teasing him further. "Well, Grover said you're killing yourself."

"What?" He blinked at her, taken aback, "I'm not killing myself. Grover's just being dramatic."

"I don't think so." She said, slowly, carefully forming her words. "I mean, if I had a soulmate..."

Luke's defences bristled at the mention of soulmates, a topic he preferred to avoid. "Is this all you wanted to talk about?"

"I'm allowed to worry, "Annabeth reminded him, her words tinged with a gentle insistence. "Family, remember?"

The word 'family' carried weight, a reminder of their shared history and the bond they had forged over the years. It was a phrase Annabeth often employed to coax Luke out of his shell, to encourage him to confide in her. When they were younger, 'family' meant everything to Luke, thanks in no small part to Annabeth's influence.

"You don't need to worry," Luke assured her, though uncertainty gnawed at the edges of his resolve. "I know what I'm doing." But did he? Luke longed for the simplicity of a time before he met you when the idea of having a soulmate seemed like a distant fantasy. Now, every decision he made, every scar he bore, carried weight, knowing it could impact you in ways he couldn't comprehend.

"The least you can do is get to know her before she leaves."

Her words struck a chord within him, prompting Luke to cast a discreet glance around the dining hall, searching for you amidst the bustling crowd again.

"She's leaving?"

"Not forever, "Annabeth clarified with a chuckle, "Just on a quest. Search and rescue. Nothing fancy."

"...How do you know this?" he said after a moment.

"Chiron told me," Annabeth shrugged nonchalantly. "He also told me to tell you that the ceremony is tonight. I hope that doesn't kill you."

It did kill him a bit. At least, it felt like it did. Luke Castellan moved through camp with a sense of urgency, his strides purposeful yet tinged with a hint of apprehension. His fingers, calloused from years of wielding weapons, throbbed with a dull ache with the burn from the bow and arrow.

Shoulders tense, skin prickling under the relentless glare of the sun, he scanned the bustling campgrounds.

The weight of his bow rested heavily on his shoulder, the familiar weight offering a semblance of comfort amidst the chaos. With practiced precision, he counted the arrows in his quiver, his movements fluid and sure.

Then, he heard it—the sound that drew him like a siren's call. Your voice, lilting and laughter-filled, cut through the clamour of the camp, pulling him toward you like a magnet. There you stood, leaning against the doorway of the Hephaestus cabin, a clipboard clutched to your chest as you exchanged banter with Atticus, the skilled swordsmith whose craftsmanship had forged Luke's sword.

There was something different about you today, something delicate, more approachable than he had ever seen before. Last night, with Penelope, you had worn a similar expression—gentle, caring—but it was a side of you that Luke had never been privileged to witness. With him, you had always been guarded, reserved, as though afraid that he would cut or maim you.

As you scribbled something onto your clipboard, Luke found himself intrigued by the way your smile softened. It was a stark contrast to the confident facade you often wore, and for a moment, Luke felt a pang of guilt for pushing you away so soon.

Unbeknownst to you, you were drawing closer to Luke with each step, your path inexorably leading you toward him. Part of him craved to reach out, while another part hesitated, unsure of how to talk to you after all this time.

"Hey," Luke finally managed to utter as you drew near, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

You paused, a hint of surprise flickering across your features as you registered his presence. "Hi?" Your response was tentative, laced with a hint of confusion. After a moment's hesitation, you glanced down at your clipboard, "I'm not changing my rank on your cabin. I know three is low, but I was being generous."

A ghost of a smile tugged at Luke's lips. He was all too familiar with the chaotic nature of Cabin Eleven, where overcrowding was the norm and taking turns on the sleeping bags was treated as a game. "No, no. I just..." He trailed off, suddenly realizing he hadn't thought through the purpose of seeking you out. "I think we need to talk."

The confusion in your expression mirrored his own, and for a moment, there was a palpable sense of uncertainty hanging between you. "Talk?" you echoed.

Luke nodded, his gaze meeting yours earnestly. "Yes."

"You want to talk...? To me?"

"I hope it's not that bizzare."

He tried to smile for you, but it felt wrong. Luke couldn't shake the weight of unease that settled in the pit of his stomach. He knew all too well that he hadn't been the embodiment of an ideal soulmate. In his mind, there lingered a pervasive belief that you harboured nothing but hatred towards him, something that you made obvious with every interaction between you two.

He wondered if this was the way you felt during the days he avoided you.

Luke had noticed the shift. There was a calculated recklessness to your actions, a deliberate disregard for your own well-being that bordered on self-destructive. You stubbed your toe on roots and table legs, tugged too hard at your hair, and scraped your knees. You started to pull your punches while sparring with Clarisse, just enough to ensure that he felt the sting of every blow. You never blocked a hit in the face, a twisted satisfaction in the knowledge that your pain mirrored his own. Together, you would limp into the infirmary, bloodied and bruised where you'd be grinning far too wide, barely offering an ounce of guilt when Luke held ice to his face.

You lowered the clipboard from your chest, letting it rest against your side as you faced Luke. The warm rays of the sun filtered through the dense foliage above, casting dappled shadows that danced across your features and forced you to squint against the brightness. The noise of children's laughter and the sound of feet pounding against the earth filled the air.

Your voice cut through the noise, "You've made it pretty clear that you want nothing to do with me, Luke," you began, your words carrying the weight of unspoken hurt. "You can't blame me for being surprised."

As you began to walk toward the next cabin, Luke fell into step beside you, "Can you just give me a chance—"

"I think you're too late for that."

"I know, I just—" Luke's words faltered, his thoughts tumbling over one another in a desperate attempt to articulate his feelings.

"I have nothing to say to you," you declared abruptly, stopping in your tracks and turning to face him. Luke skidded to a stop just in time, his gaze meeting yours as you regarded him with a mixture of sadness and frustration. "Seriously. I understand, okay? Did I come on too strong? Maybe. Yeah, I'll admit that" you acknowledged, your expression softening slightly. "Maybe coming to you hours after your shit quest was stupid, but I gave you space when you asked—"

"I just wanted to wish you luck on your quest," Luke interrupted, his voice gentle yet tinged with a hint of remorse.

With a quiet "Oh," you stepped back, your eyes momentarily averting his gaze. Were you embarrassed? Were you disappointed? Did you want to fight?

"Sorry," you mumbled, your voice tinged with uncertainty. "Thanks. I'm, uh, I'm seeing the Oracle after this. So... not technically a quest yet."

"It's your first one, right?" Luke's voice softened, an unspoken understanding passing between them.

"If you're worried about getting another scar, don't worry, I doubt it's anything dangerous," you reassured him, though your words held a hint of hesitation. There was a fleeting moment where your gaze lingered on him as if expecting a sudden change in his demeanour, but Luke remained still, his expression unreadable. "I just need to find Eros and go from there."

"Eros?" Luke's pace slowed, curiosity dancing in his eyes as he raised his brows in interest. Yet beneath the surface, a seed of annoyance sprouted, tendrils of jealousy winding their way through his thoughts. Your quest sounded far more intriguing than his own, and a bitter brew of envy churned in the depths of his stomach. Despite his inner turmoil, he attempted to play it off with a forced chuckle. "Has Cupid gone missing?"

"Apparently," you muttered bitterly under your breath, the resentment palpable in your tone. Luke sensed the edge to your words, though he pretended not to notice.

You sighed, "Is this conversation going anywhere? I really need to finish these cabin checks. I'm busy enough as it is."

Your words held an unspoken plea for him to leave, and though Luke understood, a pang of disappointment nagged at him. He couldn't entirely blame you; after all, he'd been an ass for months.

Both of you hesitated just outside the door to cabin eight, and Luke could feel your eyes on him. When you began to step away, his hand shot out, wrapping around your wrist. You froze, eyes wide with surprise.

“I also wanted to thank you,” He said, words rushing off his tongue.

“For what?” you asked.

“For last night.” He wasn't sure why he brought it up, why he felt like he needed you to know. "With Penelope."

"It was nothing," you said, voice barely audible. "We gotta look out for each other, right?"

Then, you left, you hurried up the short staircase to the cabin door, barely sparing him a glance before knocking. From his place, Luke could hear someone welcoming you into Artemis's cabin. He watched you until the door was shut behind you, vanishing you from his sight.

As the ceremony approached, the hues of twilight painted Camp Half-Blood in a golden glow, a serene yet foreboding atmosphere enveloping the surroundings. Luke's unease mounted with the setting sun, casting stretched-out shadows that seemed to carry something unnoticed. He couldn't shake the image of the figure from his nightmares, its monstrous visage haunting his thoughts with each passing moment. Yet, amidst the creeping darkness, there was an allure to the unknown, a temptation that beckoned him; its words, its promise of seeing the truth.

His gaze remained fixed on the white marble archway, half-expecting the nightmare to materialize at any moment, its twisted form emerging from the shadows with outstretched fingers. However, it was you who appeared, ascending the steps with graceful determination. Your presence seemed to dispel the shadows, bathing the surroundings in a radiant glow that eclipsed the fears that had once gripped Luke's heart. You were a blinding vice.

"Didn't think I'd see you here."

A sudden jab to his side sent him recoiling, a sharp pain shooting through his ribs. Luke winced, his gaze flickering to you as you flinched, subtly reaching for your own side. Quickly diverting his attention, he focused on the girl who had spoken.

Clarisse arched a brow at Luke, a smirk dancing on her lips. "Jumpy."

"Give him a break," Chris interjected, joining Luke's side and draping an arm over his shoulder. "Luke had a rough night, he lost a kid."

"Is that so?" Clarisse's grin widened. "And Chiron doesn't know? I'm assuming he doesn't otherwise, he wouldn't have picked you for this."

Luke scoffed and crossed his arms, "I'm the best swordsman at camp."

Luke's arms crossed defensively. "I'm the best swordsman at camp."

Clarisse's sarcasm was palpable. "Oh, I don't doubt it. The most humble, too," she retorted, unfazed by his glare. "But let's face it, a search and rescue isn't exaclty your thing anymore. You're more of an action kind of guy. You live off the glory of victory. Chiron knows that."

She was right, Chiron did know that. Which was why he rarely requested Luke to stand in unless there was a catch. Then, the flames in the torches flickered to life, and silence enveloped the candidates. Each demigod chosen by Chiron swiftly took their place, standing tall and resolute by a marble pillar, eager to showcase themselves as the prime choice for the quest. Anything for Kleos. Anything for glory.

Chiron nodded, his gesture sharp and decisive, as he placed a firm hand on your shoulder before addressing the assembly.

"The Oracle has confirmed that this quest is a search and rescue," he stated, casting a brief, confident glance in your direction. "One where you will use all your best efforts to bring Eros back to the safety of Mount Olympus and restore the lost balance. I'm sure you know where to find him." His gaze then shifted to the rest of the candidates. "Here, I have selected some of our most compelling candidates from which you will choose one to join you on your quest, ensuring your success. Annabeth Chase, Atticus Brang, Chris Rodrigues, Clarisse La-"

As Chiron listed the candidates, you carefully evaluated your options, your eyes calculating. In the dim torchlight, Luke could just discern the thin line etched across your face, stretching from the end of your brow to your-

"I choose Luke."

The ensuing silence felt like something they could all drown in, leaving everyone stunned. Even Annabeth raised her eyebrows in surprise, though there was a glint of amusement in her eyes as she spotted Luke's bewilderment. Surely, he must have misheard. There couldn't possibly be any way you had chosen him, could there?

Chiron turned to you, his tone measured. "Are you sure?"

You never shifted your gaze from Luke, who refused to meet your eyes as he stared fixedly at the pillar across from him. Yet, the clenching of his jaw, whether from anger or annoyance or something else, was enough to elicit a satisfied smile from you.

"I'm sure," you affirmed.

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wildwestdean · 3 months

Text

transposition

summary: a spell goes wrong and ends up with you and sam switching bodies. neither of you tell dean, which ends up being the greatest decision you ever made

pairing: dean winchester x witch!reader; best friend!sam winchester x witch!reader (platonic, obvs)

word count: 6.3k+

warnings: swearing, mentions of magic use, misunderstandings, miscommunication, angst, secrets, accidental love confessions, awkward idiots, mutual pining, friends to lovers, fluff, cliches, minor use of [y/n], (female pronouns/descriptors used)

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Sam grunted under his breath, continuing to powder the contents of your mortar with more force than necessary. “If Dean finds out about this-”

“Dean asked me to do this,” you defended, eyes skimming over the page in front of you before looking up at him. “Okay, maybe not verbatim, but he asked!” you added upon seeing the look on Sam’s face.

“Oh, yeah. Yeah, I’m sure he did,” he replied sarcastically, slamming the pestle down with enough force to make you flinch.

“Would you be fucking careful!” you hissed, glaring at him. “That thing isn’t indestructible and it’s important to me, it was a gift-”

“From Dean,” he finished for you. “I know. Sorry,” he added, and even though his tone was sincere, you just knew he rolled his eyes anyway; and you chucked the closest thing you could grab at his back in retaliation.

“Dick,” you muttered, going back to reading the passage before you.

It wasn’t often that you used your powers - more so when it came down to a last resort option - and when Dean first discovered that you had magic, it wasn’t intentional. The two of you were on a hunt together, and it was - of course - not going to plan. You were on the brink of consciousness, having no choice but to watch defenselessly as Dean became outnumbered by Vamps. The spell came out of nowhere, nothing more than a primal instinct to protect him, and before anyone knew what was happening, the two of you were left alone with nothing but piles of ash where the monsters once stood. Dean first thought that Rowena had somehow stumbled upon them to save the day once more, though once he realized the spell came from you, he damn near lost his mind. You would have rather he yelled at you, smashed things around, anything compared to what he did. Once he made sure you were okay and had you checked out, he simply acted as if you didn’t exist; you were completely frozen out of his life. He never needed to say anything, you could see it in his eyes every time he glanced at you: How could you be a witch? He hated witches, and you knew that- it’s half the reason you never told him in the first place. He only started coming around with Sam’s convincing- and even then, it took an incredibly long time for him to trust you again. Then, one day, he came to realize that no matter what happened, he could never hate you. So, he came to you with an open mind and a peace offering- the exact mortar and pestle you had once told Sam that you wanted, because it reminded you of your mother’s- and the two of you worked on putting the pieces of your friendship back together.

“Ass,” Sam retorted, turning and walking over to you with the freshly crushed ingredients.

“You know,” you started, taking it from his hands. “You can’t really be against this all that much, otherwise you wouldn’t be here helping.”

“I’m only here so you don’t get yourself killed.”

“Oh, come on,” you urged with a chuckle. “You love doing this, and you know it.”

He gave you a sarcastic smile before taking the book from you. “Let’s just get this over with.”

“Fine,” you huffed, snatching the book right back.

With one final glare at each other, you started the spell. Everything was going well… until it wasn’t.

You aren’t exactly sure where it went wrong. You don’t know if it was the ingredients, the way you said the spell, or just a mixture of everything, but before you even knew what was happening the bowl before you exploded in a cloud of yellow and sent both you and Sam flying.

“Oh, god,” you groaned, holding a hand to your head as your ears rang. “What the fuck?” you wondered aloud, feeling strange beyond comprehension.

“What the hell happened?” Sam croaked out.

“I don’t know,” you admitted quietly. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he said through a fit of coughs. “You?”

“I don’t know. Something feels wrong,” you declared, sitting up. It was at that exact moment you realized why you felt so different. “Sam?” you asked meekly.

“Yeah?” he questioned, sitting up. “Wait-”

“I’m-” you began, unable to finish as you stared at your hands; were they even your hands?

“You’re….” Sam tried, staring at you then down at his body; your body?

“You’re me!” you exclaimed, gesturing between the two of you.

“You’re me!” he echoed, scrambling to stand.

You followed suit, using the wall behind you to help you stand. “God, how do you live like this?”

“Me? What about you? I won’t even be able to reach the upper cabinets in the kitchen!” he countered, flailing his arms around.

“At least you’ll be able to fit on your bed! My feet are gonna dangle!” you huffed, folding your arms over yourself.

“You need to fix this,” Sam declared, stepping towards you. You couldn’t help but take a few steps away- this was way too weird. You’ve seen shifters take your image before, but this was actually you. Only it wasn’t you. You felt like your head was about to explode.

“Gee, you think, Sam?” you snapped, narrowing your eyes at him. “I thought we’d just stay like this forever!”

He opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by the door swinging open. You both flinched, turning to see Dean peering into the room.

“What the fuck’s with all the yelling?” he asked, glancing around. “The hell is going on?”

“I- uh-” you tried to answer, but nothing came to mind.

“Just, uh…. experimenting,” Sam supplied, and you sent him a glare.

“Experimenting?” Dean repeated, raising his eyebrows at you- or rather, at whom he thought was you.

“Yeah,” Sam said with a shrug, not sure what else to say. The two of you shared a look, silently agreeing not to breathe a word of what was really going on.

Dean’s face softened, and he sighed. “Don’t tell me you’re actually doing that spell. Sweetheart, we can get by without it.”

“We don’t-” you started to argue, before Sam interrupted you with a clearing of his throat.

Right. Dean wasn’t exactly talking to you right now.

“Thought it was a good opportunity to practice,” Sam replied, sounding more like he was asking than telling.

“Right,” Dean said, eyeing your body wearily.

Oh, god. He was gonna pick up on something being wrong, it was only a matter of time.

“You can leave any time now,” you spoke up, more irritated than you meant to sound, but you were severely on edge.

Dean turned to you with a look of surprise. “‘Scuse me?”

“I just- you know, we’re in the middle of something,” you continued, doing your best to stand your ground.

“Yeah, I can see that,” he quipped, taking a step towards you. “What the hell were you thinking? Why are you letting her mess around with this stuff? Better yet, why are you helping her mess around with this stuff?”

“It’s just a simple spell,” you argued, your head swirling with the fact that you were looking down on him, instead of being dwarfed by his frame like you normally would be.

“A simple spell?” he repeated, fury and irritation dancing in his eyes. “Do you even hear yourself right now?”

“Last I checked we could make our own decisions, Dean!” you exclaimed, glaring at him.

“Sure,” he placated with a nod. “So long as they’re not stupid ass decisions!”

“Can we go ten minutes in this place without a fight happening?” Sam pitched in, already exasperated with the situation.

“Yeah, sure,” Dean grumbled, glaring at you. “Food’s ready.”

“We’ll be there in a few minutes,” Sam announced, earning a glare from you in return.

“Don’t you think we should finish-” you tried to ask, but were quickly cut off by Dean.

“No, you guys are done in here,” he declared, shaking his head. “Let’s go.”

“Dean-” you tried once more, only to be cut off again.

“Sam,” Dean warned. “I’m not kidding. Whatever you two were doing, it’s done.”

“Fine. We’ll be out in a few minutes,” you relented, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. “We need to clean up!” you added upon seeing the look on Dean’s face.

“Five minutes,” Dean agreed pointedly. “Or I swear, I’ll drag both your asses out of this room.”

“Yeah, five minutes, got it,” you huffed, watching him as he hesitantly left the room.

You waited a few moments before hastily making your way over and all but slamming the door, turning to look at Sam with wide eyes.

“We are so screwed,” he declared, matching your expression.

“What are we supposed to do? He’s gonna figure out something’s wrong!” you exclaimed, slumping against the door behind you.

“We just…. I don’t know, pretend?” Sam suggested with a shrug.

“Pretend?” you repeated incredulously. “Sam, this is insane! We can’t just pretend to be each other!”

“It’s not like I meant permanently!” he defended, holding out his hands in surrender. “But until we can find a way to fix this, we have to at least play the part in front of Dean.”

“Fine,” you agreed with a huff. “But I am not going on your crack of dawn jogs.”

“Oh, come on-” he started to argue, though quickly stopped when met with your glare. “Yeah, okay, that- that’s fine.”

“Great. Now let’s go before Dean gets even more pissy,” you declared, opening the door with a flourish.

With a quick nod, he followed you down the hall, the two of you lowly bickering about the situation all the way to the kitchen.

“I feel like a baby giraffe with this fucking body.”

“You look like a baby giraffe, do you not know how to walk?”

“Yeah, I know how to walk! I know how to walk with normal legs!”

“Normal? You’re short enough to get in anywhere with a child’s pass!”

“Keep up with the attitude, Sam. Maybe I’ll go have a really nice salon visit and cut all this hair!”

“Fine, then maybe I’ll call up that guy from your ‘worst date ever’ and ask to catch up!”

“Fine by me. You’ll be the one he’ll be groping and hitting on the whole time.”

“Yeah- well-... look, just don’t cut my hair!”

“What are you two all hush hush about?” Dean asked curiously, eyeing you both as you entered the kitchen.

“Nothing,” you both quickly replied, taking a seat at the table.

Dean stared at you both for a moment before nodding curtly. “If you say so.”

Choosing not to reply, you both quietly watched as he joined the table, taking his regular seat next to you. Which, of course, meant he was currently next to Sam, and you watched in amusement as he shifted nervously while Dean got too close for his comfort.

Attempting to stifle a laugh, you took a bite of the burger that was placed in front of you, only to grimace in response. “What is this?” you asked through a mouthful, meeting Dean’s confused gaze.

“It’s… the same veggie burger you force me to make you every time I make burgers?” he replied, looking at you as though you lost your head.

Fucking Sam, you thought bitterly. “Oh, right. Right, it just- it tastes different, I don’t know,” you stammered, sparing a quick glance across at Sam as you hurriedly took another bite.

“You two are weirder than usual tonight,” Dean muttered to himself before eating his own food.

The three of you ate in stifling silence, you and Sam both internally trying to find a way out of this mess, before Dean spoke up again and pulled you from your revere.

“[Y/N], do you want just the usual from the store? I was gonna make a run before our movie night,” he said, turning to look beside him with a soft grin.

You felt your stomach drop as Sam cleared his throat, looking between you and Dean for a moment. “Movie night?”

“Yeah,” Dean said, his eyebrows furrowing in even more confusion. “Like we have every Friday?”

“Oh, right!” Sam exclaimed, chuckling nervously. “I didn’t realize what day it is, I, uh- I’m actually not… feeling too hot, do you mind if we skip it tonight?”

“You wanna skip it?” Dean asked quietly, making your heart shatter as you watched the hurt and disappointment flash across his face.

After the two of you made up from your falling out, you started a tradition of spending extra quality time together at least once a week. This resulted in having a movie night every Friday, no matter what. Whether that meant catching a random movie on a motel tv or settling into the Dean Cave, you both always found a way to make it. Knowing you had no choice but to skip out this time almost made you want to tell him what happened right then and there; but you didn’t.

“Yeah, I just… I think it’s best if I just head to bed, you know? I’d hate for it to get worse,” Sam said sheepishly, playing with the glass in front of him as he met Dean’s gaze halfheartedly.

You were glad that if you had to mistakenly swap bodies with someone, it was Sam. Given that he became your best friend from just about the moment you met, he had your behaviour down pat; you just hoped you could do the same and make this all a little easier.

“Well what do you mean, what’s wrong?” Dean asked worriedly.

“I’m just feeling run down is all,” Sam said, shrugging lightly as he stood up, taking his dishes to the sink. “Maybe we can watch something tomorrow,” he added, turning back to Dean with a shy smile.

“Yeah. Yeah, sure,” Dean agreed softly, averting his gaze to the beer in his hands. “Don’t worry about it, just get some rest.”

“Sure. Uh, goodnight, guys,” Sam replied awkwardly, shooting you a pointed look before leaving.

You stayed in uncomfortable silence for a moment, studying Dean as he pouted at his bottle.

“You alright?” you asked tentatively.

“Yeah, just… first time she’s bailed on me,” he replied indifferently, downing the rest of his beer before heading to get another one.

“She didn’t bail on you,” you argued firmly. “It’s not like she chose to go bar hopping or something, she’s sick.”

“Didn’t seem so sick when she was huddled up with you,” Dean said curtly, leaning against the counter as he sent you a cold stare.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked confusedly, shifting in your seat to look at him better.

He remained silent, lips pursed as he studied you for what felt like hours, before he finally shrugged. “Doesn’t mean anything.”

“Then why say it?” you asked in irritation.

He remained silent once more, simply raising the beer bottle to his lips and taking a long sip before standing upright. “Night, Sammy.”

“Dean-” you tried to press, but he only ignored you as he continued across the floor, leaving the kitchen without saying another word.

You sighed in exasperation, quickly cleaning everything up before heading to your room, catching almost no sleep as you dove deep into researching for a reversal to your mistake.

“You need to shave,” Sam said, staring at you from across the table.

“What?” you asked, caught off guard by the declaration.

“Your beard - my beard. You need to shave it,” he clarified. “It’s been over a week.”

“And?” you asked, arching an eyebrow at him. “I doubt you’re taking care of all my housekeeping.”

“That’s because I’m doing everything possible to not look at you! Like you asked!” he hissed in return.

You rolled your eyes in response, returning your attention to the book in front of you. “I have more important things on my mind than shaving your stupid facial hair - which looks fine, by the way.”

Sam huffed, shifting in his seat. “Yeah, well you can at least take five minutes for me!”

“I don’t even know how to shave a beard, Sam!” you argued, closing the book in exasperation.

“Then just let me shave it for you!” he begged, leaning over the table. “I’m serious, [Y/N], you can’t just leave me all unkempt.”

You met his gaze and sighed softly. “Damn, you can even pull off the puppy dog eyes with my face. That’s a talent, Sammy.”

He couldn’t help but laugh, for what felt like the first time since this whole thing happened. “You can do it better than I can,” he chuckled. “At least when it comes to Dean,” he added with a smirk.

“What does that mean?” you asked curiously.

“Nothing,” he said, shrugging dismissively. “C’mon, let’s get you- me- whatever, all taken care of before Dean gets back with dinner.”

“Fine,” you begrudgingly agreed, getting up to follow him.

Before you knew it, you were standing in front of him as he sat on the bathroom counter, because: “How else are we supposed to do this? These arms aren’t gonna reach that face comfortably without some help.”

You fell into a comfortable silence as he did what he needed to do, the only words spoken being his occasional nagging for you to quit moving, as you were both lost in your own thoughts about the last few days.

“I’m really sorry, Sammy,” you said suddenly. You weren’t sure whether your voice was so quiet due to the shame you felt, or for the fear of breaking the silence that surrounded you.

“It’s not your fault,” he said simply, reflexively.

You sighed, gently shaking your head; which earned another scolding glare from him as he steadied you. “It’s entirely my fault. I fucked up big time, and we both know it.”

“Look, it was an accident,” he urged, wiping away the remnants of the shave one last time. “Assigning blame isn’t going to change anything.”

“Why aren’t you mad at me? You should be furious! I practically ruined your life,” you pressed on frantically.

“Okay, that’s being dramatic,” he chided. “Yeah, this isn't an ideal situation. Though weirdly, it’s also not the weirdest situation I’ve been in. And you know what? It’s not even the first time I’ve been in this situation! Remember when that kid switched bodies with me? Trust me, you’re a much better person to be switched with.”

“Yeah, I remember,” you said, chuckling softly. “Still, I’m really sorry.”

“I know you are,” he said softly. “I also know you’ll find a way to fix this.”

“You really believe that?” you asked hesitantly.

“Yeah,” he said with a nod. “‘Cause it’s you, and I’ll always have faith in you. You didn’t mean for this to happen, [Y/N]. It’s okay.”

“No, it-” you started to argue, but he cut you off.

“Stop,” he urged softly. “I’m not mad at you, okay? Maybe I was at first, but I’m not anymore.”

“Promise?” you asked meekly.

“I promise,” he said firmly.

“Okay,” you relented, not fully believing him but not wanting to push the topic any further.

“Okay,” he repeated, gently wiping away one of your stray tears.

“Maybe we should just tell Dean,” you suggested hesitantly.

“Tell me what?” Dean’s voice suddenly cut through the room.

The two of you jumped, and you moved away from the counter as calmly as you could, knowing how the predicament you were in must look to him.

You turned to the doorway and came face to face with Dean staring intently at the two of you, his mind working into an overdrive as he tried to make sense of the scene he just walked in on.

“Dean, I- when did you get back?” you asked nervously.

“Tell me what?” he asked again, ignoring your question.

You and Sam were both at a loss. You spent so much time trying to figure this whole thing out, yet neither of you thought to come up with some kind of story should you be cornered like this.

“[Y/N]?” Dean asked softly, looking over to where he thought you sat on the counter.

The look of hurt and confusion that flashed over his face and the waver in his voice all but sent a fresh wave of tears washing over you.

Dean waited impatiently a few moments before shaking his head with a scoff. “Whatever, food’s in the kitchen.”

Before anyone could say anything else, he turned on his heel and left, leaving you and Sam stunned in his wake.

The dynamic between the three of you began shifting even more ever since that night, and you could feel Dean slipping further and further away from you with each passing day.

You noticed it every time Dean would catch you and Sam huddled up and whispering low; when he would stand and stare before leaving with a quiet grumble of forgetting why he was there.

You noticed it when he started spending more time in his room or tinkering with Baby in the garage; finding any and every excuse possible to spend time outside of the bunker and away from you and Sam.

You and Sam tried to ignore it, promised yourselves that you’d explain everything once you managed to set things right - or, if you discovered you were over your heads and couldn’t fix everything.

The thing you hated most about this whole thing was that it was becoming easier and easier to lie to Dean; and the worst part about that was not knowing whether you and Sam really became more convincing, or if Dean just didn’t care enough to question you anymore.

Which is exactly why you found yourself sitting in the war room, waiting for Dean to make his way through to the kitchen, in order to try and talk things out.

You weren’t expecting him to appear with one duffle bag over his shoulder and another by his side - and he wasn’t expecting to see you, either.

“Didn’t think you’d be up,” he declared after a moment of hesitation, continuing on his path to the stairs.

“Where the hell are you going?” you asked hotly, standing from your seat.

Dean sighed, throwing his head back in frustration as he considered his response. “Donna’s cabin.”

“What? Why?” you asked, eyebrows drawing together with confusion.

“I can’t do it anymore,” he said tiredly. “I just can’t, okay?”

“Do what?” you asked wearily, taking a tentative step towards him. “What are you talking about, Dean?” you pressed, feeling your chest tighten with the rising nerves and fear.

“Don’t do that,” he demanded, shaking his head. “Don’t play coy. You think I don’t know what’s been going on around here?”

“What-... what’s been going on?” you asked curiously. “The hell are you talking about?”

You weren’t sure if or when he figured out what happened, and you also weren’t sure why it would make him feel the need to leave.

“I’m talking about you and [Y/N]!” he shouted, throwing his bags down and stepping towards you.

“Me and [Y/N]?” you wondered, taking a nervous step backwards.

“I’m not an idiot, okay?” he spat, his jaw ticking. “You think I haven’t noticed? Think I couldn’t figure it out?”

“Okay, look,” you began, holding out your hands defensively. “I can explain.”

Dean let out a humourless laugh, running a hand over his mouth before glaring at you once more. “Explain,” he echoed with a chuckle of disbelief. “Don’t waste your breath.”

“Why are you so pissed off about this?” you asked in bewilderment. “I mean, I know we kept it from you, but we figure it’d be easier for you.”

“Easier for me?” he repeated, voice raising. “What about this entire situation makes you think it’d be easy for me?”

“Well because it-... I mean it doesn’t really affect you, Dean,” you replied, unsure of your own words.

“It doesn’t affect me?” he repeated with perplexion. “Of course it affects me! You know how I feel about her!” he exclaimed, taking yet another step forward.

“What?” you questioned, thrown off by his response.

“Don’t “what” me,” he snapped. “I want to be happy for you, Sammy. I really do, but I just-... I don’t think I ever can be.”

“Okay, I-... I am so lost,” you admitted.

“You stole my girl, Sam!” Dean all but screamed. “You know that I love her. You know I was gonna tell her, and you know how much I want to spend whatever’s left of my god forsaken life with her! You swore you didn’t feel that way about her. You- I mean how to hell could you do this to me, Sammy? I can’t even stand to look at you anymore.”

You remained silent, staring at him in shock and confusion for what felt like hours. Your mouth opened and closed a few times as you tried to formulate a response, but all that came out was a broken whisper of his name.

“Don’t sweat it, Sammy. Not like I can blame you for falling for her, right? I mean hey, I sure did,” he sassed, smiling sarcastically. “Not surprised she chose you, either. She deserves someone better than me. But I’m not sticking around anymore to see it first hand.”

You watched in stunned silence as he turned to gather his bags, trying and failing to think of anything to say. What the hell were you supposed to do? The man of your dreams just admitted he felt the exact same way, and you were trapped in his brother's body. Even if you told him the truth right now, would he even believe you?

“Do me one favour, though,” Dean said from the foot of the stairs, effectively pulling you from your thoughts. “Don’t tell [Y/N]. Don’t tell her anything. I’ll think of something to tell her during the drive and call her tomorrow.”

“Dean-” you finally began to protest, only to go unheard by him as he started up the steps.

“Later, Sammy,” he announced with finality, disappearing out of the bunker.

“You have got to be kidding me. I mean honestly woman, how stupid can you be?” Rowena’s voice rang through the war room as she made her arrival known to you and Sam.

“Did you not get in enough insults over the phone?” you asked in exasperation, not bothering to move from your spot in the library as you watched her approach.

“I don’t think there are enough insults for this situation, dear,” she said sweetly, smiling innocently.

“Either be helpful or leave, Rowena,” you replied solemnly.

It had been three days since Dean left, and over two weeks since the whole debacle happened. You had never been more determined to find a solution, nor had you ever felt more defeated.

“Alright, fine. No need to be cranky,” Rowena tsked, taking a seat across from you. “Go on, then. Walk me through everything.”

“Fine,” you sighed, steadying yourself before recounting the situation.

“Let me get this straight,” Rowena declared, holding a hand up. “You actually let him leave? After what he said?”

“Is that seriously your only take away from this?” you asked angrily, glaring at her.

“It’s not my only take away, but it’s certainly a big one,” she said calmly, accompanied by a half shrug. “This is the spell you used?” she asked, looking over the book you gave her during your explanation.

“Yeah, that’s the one,” you confirmed sheepishly.

“Well, don’t you worry. We’ll have you and Samuel right as rain in no time, dear,” she comforted, eyes never leaving the pages in front of her.

It took another four days, but ‘No time’ finally came. You were practically itching to get this all over and done with as the three of you finished setting everything up. You didn’t even care about being in your own skin again, all you cared about at this point was getting Dean back in your life. He did everything possible to avoid talking to you or Sam each time either of you tried contacting him, and you were missing him more and more with each passing hour.

“That should do it,” Rowena declared, snapping you back to attention. “You know what you need to do?”

“Yes,” you said quickly, urging her out of the room; the last thing you needed was for her to be around and have the spell go wrong again, resulting in all three of you being scrambled around.

“Don’t rush it!” she cautioned. “I know you want him back, but you need to take this slowly. You can’t afford another screw up!”

Her statement made you pause, and you knew she was right. “Go slow, I got it,” you confirmed, shutting her out of the room.

“Ready?” Sam asked, looking at you eagerly; albeit nervous beyond belief.

“More than ever,” you declared, taking your place at the altar.

You began the spell, doing everything slowly and precisely so there was no room for error. Once you had finished, however, nothing had happened. You were just about ready to scream with all the emotions boiling inside of you when suddenly the bowl before you exploded in a cloud of yellow, sending both you and Sam flying.

“Oh, god,” you groaned, holding a hand to your head as your ears rang. “This again?” you wondered aloud.

“Did it even work?” Sam croaked out.

“I don’t know,” you admitted quietly. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he said through a fit of coughs. “You?”

“I think so,” you declared, sitting up. It was at that exact moment you realized what happened. “Sam?” you asked breathlessly.

“Yeah?” he questioned, sitting up himself. “Wait-”

“I’m-” you began, unable to finish as you stared at your hands; your own hands.

“You’re….” Sam tried, staring at you then down at his body; his very own body.

“You’re you!” you exclaimed in glee, pointing at him.

“You’re you!” he echoed, scrambling to stand.

You followed suit, taking a moment to steady yourself on your own feet. “I need to go,” you announced, not giving him time to reply before you ran out of the room.

“You’re welcome!” Rowena called after you, watching you run by.

“Thank you!” you called back absently, hurrying out to your car.

The drive took longer than ever before; at least, it felt like it did. You spent the whole time trying to think of what to say, of how to explain, but nothing seemed right. Nothing seemed like enough. All you could hope for was that everything would magically come to you once you stood before him.

If he ever decided to open the goddamn door.

“Dammit, Dean! Open the fucking door before I break it down!” you yelled, banging your hand against the wood for the upteenth time.

You opened your mouth to yell once more, but before you could even make a sound a voice boomed out from behind you. “What are you doing here?”

You turned with a start, coming face to face with Dean as he stood at the bottom of the steps. “I came to talk to you,” you said simply, taking a few steps forward.

He quickly averted his gaze, focusing on wiping the grease from his hands with the rag he held. “Coulda just called,” he countered gruffly.

“Why?” you asked, laughing dryly. “You’d just ignore my calls.”

He stilled his ministrations for a moment before shrugging, glancing back up at you. “Maybe ‘cause we got nothing to talk about.”

“Dean-” you tried to argue, though you stopped short when he rolled his eyes and turned away from you.

“Look, I know all about you and Sam, okay?” he huffed, storming across the drive and to where Baby was parked, hood still open for Dean to continue working on her.

“Oh, for god’s sake, Dean. There is no me and Sam!” you exclaimed with a groan, quickly following behind him.

“Whatever you say, sweetheart,” he placated, picking up his previously abandoned ratchet.

“Just listen to me,” you pleaded, watching his face scrunch with a mix of frustration and concentration as he dove back into his work.

“You don’t need to explain,” he said distractedly. “I get it. He’s good for you. I just-... you didn’t need to hide it, [Y/N/N]. I thought we were closer than that.”

“We are! That’s not what we were hiding, just let me explain!” you said desperately, stepping closer to him.

“You can quit the act, okay?” he snapped, stopping what he was doing as he stood up, finally turning to look at you. “I have eyes, I saw what-”

“Sam and I fucking switched bodies!” you yelled over him, effectively rendering him speechless. “Alright? When you walked in on us doing that spell the other week… it went wrong, Dean. Sam and I, we just-... we switched!”

“You… switched bodies?” he asked slowly, scepticism starting to present itself on his face as he processed what you said.

“Yes,” you confirmed softly. ”I was Sam, Sam was me.”

He nodded, shifting uncomfortably as he anxiously tapped his fingers on Baby’s exterior. “Well, isn’t that just a great story,” he muttered, leaning under the hood once more.

“It’s not a story,” you argued desperately. “It’s what happened.”

“Then why not tell me?” he challenged, not missing a beat.

“Because,” you began lamely. “You always have so much on your plate, Dean. We didn’t want to shove this stupid thing on you and add to your worries.”

“So you lied to me for my own good?” he asked harshly, gaze not straying from his hands as he worked.

“We didn’t lie, we just-”

“Avoided the truth,” he finished for you. “Same thing, if you ask me.”

“We thought it was for the best,” you admitted quietly.

“Oh, yeah,” he agreed sarcastically, throwing his tools down. “Sneaking around, icing me out. Definitely for my best interest, huh?”

“Dean, please,” you pleaded. “I didn’t come here to fight with you.”

“Then why did you come, [Y/N]?” he shouted, shutting Baby’s hood. “What did you think was gonna happen here?”

“Well, I thought-... I just-... I wanted to clear the air,” you stammered. “I wanted to explain.”

“Well, you explained,” he muttered, busying himself with tidying his mess.

You watched him silently for a few moments, trying to think of your next move. You decided to ask the question that’s been on your mind since he left: “Were you really planning on actually telling me one day?”

He let out an irritated sigh, picking up his belongings and moving around to the trunk. “What are you talking about?”

“Were you really gonna tell me?” you repeated, quickly taking a few steps to meet him at the trunk.

“Tell you what?” he huffed, irritation oozing off of him as he slammed the toolbox down.

“How you feel!” you blurted out, taking yet another step towards him.

“The hell are you talking about?” he questioned, feigning cluelessness. Though the way his body stiffened as he idly messed with the stuff in the trunk betrayed him; he knew what you meant.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” you replied softly. “Were you?”

“I don’t know!” he huffed, shutting the trunk. “Maybe,” he added, walking away from you once more.

“You said-”

“I know what I said!” he interrupted, clearly irritated. “Can we not relive it? I don’t want to talk about this.”

“Well I do!” you argued, exasperated. “Why the fuck else do you think I’m here, Dean?”

“To clear the air,” he sneered, repeating your earlier words as he made his way back to the cabin.

“To tell you I love you!” you shouted after him, stopping him in his tracks. “I didn’t choose Sam. How can I choose him when I’ve loved you for years? How can I choose him when my entire world stopped spinning the day you shut me out of your life all those years ago? How can I choose him when I didn’t feel like I could breathe until you finally spoke to me again? How can I choose him, when having to watch you walk away the other day was the most terrifying thing I had to do, because I didn’t know if I’d ever get you back this time? You can put us in any timeline, in any universe, or in any realm, and I will always choose you. I love you.”

You were met with silence for entirely too long, and you watched the unsteady rise and fall of his shoulders as he kept his back to you, standing tense as ever with his head down low.

“Will you just look at me, please?” you pleaded shakily.

As soon as the words left your mouth he spun on his heel and marched towards you, closing the distance between you two in seconds. He grabbed your face in his hands, letting a moment of hesitation pass by before crashing his lips against yours. It was harsh yet delicate, slow but needy. It was gentle and all consuming. His hands strayed from your face, one sweeping to the back of your head to hold you steady while the other slipped to your waist and pulled you close. Your hands found themselves gliding up his arms, resting on the base of his neck for a moment before settling on his cheeks.

When the two of you finally pulled away to catch your breath, it seemed like neither of you wanted to go too far; foreheads pressed together and noses brushing as you both giggled quietly, shy smiles on your swollen lips.

You stood like that for a few minutes, basking in each other's presence in ways you never could before, until your gentle whisper cut through the silence: “Please come home, Dean.”

“My sweet girl,” he said quietly, planting a delicate kiss to your forehead before completely wrapping you up in his arms, holding you closer than ever. “I am home.”

tagging: @winharry

dividers by @firefly-graphics and @saradika

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