#i could tell that the counselor was very careful about their words

[kamaluhkhan]

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

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

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

word count: 8.5k

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

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

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

♪: the grudge by olivia rodrigo

(i. you have a sharp tongue)

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

"you'll get used to it."

luke sat up to see you climbing through the window. 

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

“the shitty mattress?”

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

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

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

“yeah, i know. i’m —”

“y/n!”

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

“someone stole my candy.”

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

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

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

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

“what? n-no!” 

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

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

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

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

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

it just didn't seem fair. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“so, who’s your godly parent?”

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

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

"nemesis. goddess of revenge."

"that's....hardcore."

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

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

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

“guess i was just lucky, then.”

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

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

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

“yeah. exactly.” 

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

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

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

“she deserved more.” 

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

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

we all do. 

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

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

“slow down, tiger.” 

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

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

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

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

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

luke bristled at your nickname for him. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

luke exhaled sharply. “how did you —”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“your nose.”

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

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

“you don’t have to —”

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

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

it was pathetic how much power you had over him.

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

he couldn’t argue with that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

a pause.

“is that a bad thing?”

“not usually, no.” 

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

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

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

“you won’t.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

how many heroes could claim that?

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

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

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

“anything.”

“come back alive.”

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

“i promise.”

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

the nightmares were getting worse. 

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

“luke.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

what a fucking joke.

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

again: a fucking joke.

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

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

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

most of all, you cared about luke.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

but, at what cost?

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

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

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

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

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

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

“what happened?” 

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

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

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

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

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

in fact, luke loved that about you.

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

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

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

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

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

“about percy?” 

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

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

you finally turned to luke and glared at him. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

luke resisted the urge to growl at your suggestion. 

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

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

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

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

“hey. are we okay?”

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

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

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

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

“annabeth called a meeting during free time.”

“yeah, i know, it’s just —”

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

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

what in the name of hades were you talking about?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

everything was falling into place. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“no. i’m good.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

not yet. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“why…why would you agree to do that?”

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

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

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

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

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

“what hypothesis?”

you hesitated. 

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

“what hypothesis?” he asked again.

nothing but rushed footsteps.

“what hypothesis?” luke finally yelled.

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

“i’m angry at the gods,” you stated. 

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

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

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

did you know?

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

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

would you hate him, if you knew? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“wait.”

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

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

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

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

luke had just left percy jackson to die.

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

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

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

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

“i don’t have much time.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“i….i should have told you sooner.”

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

“it’s not delusional—”

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

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

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

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

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

luke just needed to convince you.

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

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

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

“you don’t mean that.”

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

you grabbed your knife, took a fighting stance. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

a turquoise trident.

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

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

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

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

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

[fanficgirl429]

Being there for Mike

Prompt: Your boyfriend, Mike receives a notice that his Aunt Jane wants custody of Abby. You're there to comfort and support him.

Pairing: Mike Schmidt x Reader

---

The slam of your front door pulls you from your sleep and you slowly open your eyes to see your boyfriend staring down at you. He’s wearing his favorite dark jeans, a gray shirt, and his signature black jacket. His short hair has a slight curl in it and stubble is covering his face. To say he looked attractive was an understatement. 

“Hey,” he says, shrugging off his jacket and hanging it on the hooks next to the front door. 

“Hi babe.”

He walks over to the couch, where you're currently laying and gently taps your foot. You lift your feet up, making room for him on the couch. He sits down and then pulls your legs on top of his, giving them a gentle squeeze. Mike was not an affectant person by any means but there were little gestures that he would do that would make your heart skip a beat. 

It was then that you noticed how defeated and tired he looked. It looked as if he hadn’t slept at all last night. 

“Are you ok?’ you ask, concern in your voice. 

Mike raises his hips from the couch and pulls out a large rolled up envelope from his back pocket. Without saying a word, he reaches across the couch and hands it to you. You give him a questioning look but he doesn’t say a word. Whatever is in here, has caused him major concern. 

The envelope is filled with yellow paper, creating a small booklet. The very first page says everything you need to know. 

“What the fuck?” you say, outraged. “What makes her think that she can get custody of Abby?” You skim through all of the paper but there is a lot of information. Hopefully he was able to make more sense of it. 

Mike lets out a sigh as you hand him back the paper and envelope. “She only wants Abby for money from the state.”

You move across the couch and sit down next to your boyfriend. He wraps his arm around your shoulder and you lean against his chest, wrapping your arm around his waist. 

He instantly relaxes and his breathing becomes more steady. When it came to his younger sister, Abby, he would easily get worked up. He wanted nothing but the best for her. 

“Whatever you need me to do, I will,” you reassure him. 

“Come with me to the meeting tomorrow,” he says. 

You nod and hug him tighter. 

——

Mike's Aunt Jane has it out for him. She is carrying on about how Mike is unfit to care for Abby and how she will do a better job. She even goes a far as saying that he is nodding out at the meeting. 

He barely slept at all last night. You could feel him tossing and turning most of the night before getting out of bed around 5am. As you laid in bed this morning, you could hear him pacing back and forth in the living room. 

His leg moves up and down while he sits and listens to her talk. You reach over to grab his hand, lacing your fingers with his. He squeezes your hand as Abby’s guidance counselor glances over at the two of you. She gives you a small smile before returning her eyes to Jane. 

When Jane is finally finished rambling, the guidance counselor concludes the meeting, telling Jane that she will be in touch. 

You and Mike thank the counselor for the meeting and you stand up and follow him out of the door into the front office. You make to turn left towards the school's front door but Mike turns right and begins to walk down the school's hallway. He stops for a moment and waits for you to catch up. His fingers lace with yours as he comes to a stop outside a classroom. He peaks through the window before opening the door, revealing an empty classroom. 

“This is Abby’s classroom,” he tells you, walking over the window. 

The large window overlooks the playground and you see Abby sitting at the picnic table drawing while the other kids are playing all around her. 

“She never plays with the other kids,” Mike comments with a sadness in his voice. 

You shrug. “She seems to be doing ok,” you reassure him. “If she wanted to play with the others she would. She’s told me about some friends she has here.” 

The door to the classroom opens and Abby’s guidance counselor walks in. She smiles as she walks over to the two of you. 

“I was wondering if I would find you here,” she says. 

She follows your gaze out the window and looks at Abby. 

“You’re doing a good job, you know?” she tells Mike. 

“Thanks,” Mike says, running his fingers through his hair. 

“How are you doing Mike?” she asks. 

Mike shrugs. “I’m ok,” he tells her. 

“We’re going to do whatever we can to make sure that Abby stays with you, you know that right? Have you found a job yet?”

“Not yet. But I’m working on it.”

“That’s step number one.”

The counselor squeezes Mike's shoulder before turning to leave the room.  

“Ready to go?” you ask him and he nods. 

He leads you out the door and down the hallway towards the front of the school. 

~~~

Mike closes the door to Abby’s room and walks into the living room. His gray sweatpants hang loose off his hips and his black t shirt shows off his frame. A blush forms on your cheeks and you turn away not wanting Mike to see. 

Although the two of you had been dating for almost two years now, Mike still made you blush. What had started out as a stupid crush years earlier, had turned into the best thing that had ever happened to you. You loved Mike and couldn’t imagine your life without him. 

Mike notices how your cheeks turned a slight shade of red but didn’t say anything. He didn’t want to call you out and embarrass you. Instead he walks over to where you are sitting on the couch and stands in front of you. He reaches his hand out and you place your hand in his. He gently pulls you up and wraps his around your waist, giving you a tight hug. You pull him against you, not wanting him to let go anytime soon. Hugs from Mike were your favorite thing. 

“Thanks for coming with me today,” he says. 

“Of course. You know I’m always here for you and Abby.” 

“I guess I need to start looking for a job.”

You nod. “Yea. And maybe try not to get fired,” you tease him. 

He shakes his head but a smile crosses his lips. He has a hard time getting mad at you. You might pick on him but it was always in good fun- every now and then he would tease you as well. 

“I hate you,” he teases. 

You let out a loud laugh and then instantly cover your mouth, forgetting that Abby was asleep. “You actually love me,” you say, looking up at him.

“I might,” he says, laughing.

He leans down and presses his lips against yours, kissing you slowly. 

#mike schmidt imagine #mike schmidt fnaf #mike schmidt #josh hutcherson #josh hutcherson imagine #final mike #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt x you #josh hutcherson x reader #mike schmidt fluff #josh hutcherson fluff #fnaf mike schmidt

[norrizzandpia]

hey, totally ok if it’s not ur vibe, but i’d love to see an oscar fic where he’s helping his girlfriend or a childhood best friend when she’s feeling a bit down.

i keep thinking about that man helping clean a depression room and telling his girl not to be embarrassed and he’s there to help and they get it sorted and he just holds her. makes sure she’s eaten and drank something.

even if it’s just a drabble, i’d really appreciate it :) need that kinda care in my life rn, even if it’s fictional.

I made this girlfriend because it just felt softer idk

To Be Loved Is To Be Seen (OP81)

Summary: Oscar knows his girlfriend well and it’s obvious to him when she starts breaking down. He’s happy to help or, more specifically, remind her how worth it she is.

Warnings: this one is HEAVY on the family trouble, depression, anxiety, VERY ANGSTY but def cutest HAPPY ENDING

Note: i didn’t know if you wanted reader to be in a rut or have a reason for it so i just made a reason

Y/n’s first few months of university were hard. Not only was it due to the new course load, but also because of her parents lack of interest when it came to her life. It had been a gradual shift, starting from her last two years in high school and only getting stronger as time went on. They had always been there, overbearing at times, but, now, they posted pictures of their trips around the world, failing to answer her calls and texts. She felt selfish for wanting her parents’ attention as much as she did, but it was hard to fight. There were situations she had never dealt with before, she wanted her mom’s wise words and father’s funny remarks to get through it all. But, she sat alone in the darkness of her room without the guidance counselor she usually could count on. It felt as if she wasn’t enough to keep them there anymore. It was heart wrenching and it stewed within her at such volumes, it became too much.

That’s when Oscar noticed. Her boyfriend had always been attentive, noticing small things about her that no one else did, but the second her smile didn’t reach her eyes and her text messages became less frequent, it was almost as if he was staring her down in anticipation of some sort of sign. He didn’t begin to realize it was related to her parents until he caught a glimpse of her phone when they were together, the screen open to her conversations with her mother and all of the recent texts going completely unanswered. He knew she had always had a rocky relationship with them, but she spoke about them with such respect, he knew it would’ve bothered her to feel so unimportant.

Knocking on her door, his hands clutched the bag of her favorite food he had got on his walk to her apartment. He had planned this evening out for weeks, not telling her about it in worry that she would slip into a facade put together with a fake smile that made his skin crawl.

She opened it, her body tense and tired in a ratty shirt and shorts, “Oscar? What are you doing here?”

It was as if he saw her front go up, her posture straightening and that haunting smile which told him all too well how much pain she was in. He smiled softly, “I thought we could spend the night together.”

She closed the door enough to only peek her head through, “Osc, I’m so sorry, but I can’t tonight. I’m so busy.”

He stayed put, “That’s okay. I can wait on your couch.”

“No, Osc,” She said firmly, her face turning in the light and exposing the dark bags under her eyes.

He stepped closer to her, putting his hand on the door and looking down at her with a look that made her feel loved, “Y/n, let me in. I know you’re going through it. Let me be with you.”

Her resolve cracked, her smile dropping for a second and water suddenly pooling in her eyes, “You don’t want to come in here.”

He leaned against the door and cupped her cheek, “It won’t make me love you any less.”

With a sigh, Y/n pushed the door open, beckoning the boy into her home. He knew what to expect, he knew what it was like to reach the place she was in. So, when he saw the piles of clothes, half-eaten food on the counter with old dishes in the sink, and her little accessories put in the wrong places, something she would never usually do, he wasn’t surprised. If anything, he was happy she had let him in, literally and figuratively.

She picked at her nails beside him, swaying on her feet as she analyzed his every move. Part of her was trying to ready herself for him to walk out the door, give up on her because of whatever stood before them, but he gently set the food on the floor and ushered her into his embrace. His cheek laid against the top of her head, nestled in her hair, as he tightened his grip around her body. She smelled his cologne and felt his sweatshirt which made him feel all the more warm. There was something about his presence, she would later learn it was how safe she felt, that made the turmoils of her mind quiet as she began to cry. Y/n had promised herself that she wouldn’t cry for people who clearly didn’t care, but as Oscar rubbed her back and whispered how much he loved her, she realized it was never going to work.

Her breaking down wet the material of his sweatshirt, but Oscar just held her tighter, whispering how it was going to be okay and this would all pass.

“You’re so worth it all, Y/n,” He whispered, pecking the top of her ear as he smoothed down her hair.

She clutched his back before Oscar was moving her hands under his hoodie to feel the bare of his skin. He knew she loved that. And she did. Y/n’s tears began to dissipate as he told her why he was there.

“I’m with you in this. You aren’t alone. I’m here for you and I always will be. This,” He gestured to the space around them, holding her face in his hands and forcing her eyes to meet his, “doesn’t scare me at all, love. What does scare me, though, is the attempts at eating on the counter. Have you been eating other than that?”

She shook her head, “I tried. It’s too hard. I’m not hungry ever anymore.”

He titled his head with a small frown, “Well, maybe your favorite food will help, yeah? We’ll sit together and eat. We can go as slow as you want, or as fast. All up to you, baby.”

He kissed her forehead lightly before guiding her to the living room, one of the less dirty places, and setting her down on the cushions. He set it all behind him, not wanting to overwhelm her with everything he got, and took out what he knew she would want first. There was a dull sparkle in her eyes when he handed it to her, his heart lifted. It hadn’t been there when he first arrived.

She opened it slowly, eyeing the food she once ravished in seconds, and taking a utensil to pick at it. He looked at her, waiting patiently for her to take a bite. When she did, however small, he did too. When she did again, he did too.

She stopped, “Why aren’t you eating faster?”

He smiled, “Because I’ll take a bite when you do. I don’t mind, Y/n. I told you I’m in this with you.”

Her eyes gloss over as they dart between him and the food before taking another bite, giggling a bit when Oscar takes one of his own dish. She eats, he does too and their eyes never leave each other, offering unspoken support.

When the plastic boxes are gone and empty, Oscar has glasses of water randomly appearing in his grip, offering them to his girlfriend who has found herself tangled in that soft blanket he got her last Christmas. Her cheeks are a soft pink from the warmth of it coupled with the candle he lit in the midst of their dinner and she smiles when the cool liquid flows down her throat. Oscar stands over her, hands in his pockets and wondering how anyone could possibly ignore her texts. He wants to take a picture of her, remind her parents of the beauty they have in their reach. But, he also knows that any text he sends to them wouldn’t be one he should send to his potential (very likely) in-laws. So, he stays quiet and looks at her with the love she deserves.

“Do you need anything else?” He asks, pushing the hair out of her face.

She shakes her head, “No, I’m good. What movie do you want to watch?”

He kisses her cheek, “It’s up to you. I won’t be watching.”

Her eyebrows knot together and she cocks her head, “Why not? Is this some random pickup line where you’re going to tell me how you’ll only be watching me?”

He laughs, his head back, as he walks toward her room, “No, but that’s a good one. I’ll keep that for later. You put on whatever you want, baby. I’ll be cleaning.”

She crawls to the corner of the couch, watching him begin to pick up her room, “Clean? What? Why?”

He stops, turning around to look at her through the door, “Because I want to help you feel better and I know your apartment is stressing you out. You shouldn’t have to worry, love. Just relax. I’ll be done in a few hours.”

Her mouth is agape as he moves throughout her room, putting things away as if he knows where everything goes. He does, apparently. And when the shock of it wears off, a smile cements itself on her face as she turns on a random movie. She enjoys the soft humming of Oscar in the other room, answering his occasional question about the plot of the movie she’s watching. When he moves to the kitchen, out in the open and available to see what’s on the screen, Y/n falls asleep to the picture of her boyfriend doing her dishes and taking out her trash. Falling asleep with a warm heart mended by someone that has always loved her unconditionally.

—

She’s awoken by the feeling of soft mattress beneath her and Oscar’s arms heavy around her torso. He’s deep in sleep when she opens her eyes, has her completely enveloped in his grasp on her side. The room is dark, the window open and allowing for a cold breeze to flow through the room. She loves it. It’s cold outside, but Oscar keeps her warm. Her hands move their way up to his head, playing with his hair and staring at the man who has treated her so gently.

Tears fall down her face all so suddenly, sniffling lightly but still waking Oscar in the process.

He’s immediately worried, “What’s wrong?”

Her head drops to his chest, “I just love you so much and can’t tell you how much it meant to me that you stayed here even after seeing the state everything was in, including me.”

His soft hands leave her body and pull her face up to him. His eyes are dilated as he looks at her, “I would’ve done it yesterday and I’ll do it for the rest of our lives. I don’t want you to struggle alone. You don’t deserve that. You’ve done too much of that before you met me.”

If only her younger self could see her now. A younger girl worried she’d never find a man who loved her by seeing her now wholly adored by someone who didn’t just see her, but understood her too. She doesn’t even need to utter the problem, he already knows and she’s caught on to that since the moment he showed up at her door. His carefully chosen words about her worth and how easy it is to love her were all strategically placed in order to fix the cracks deep in her soul that have come undone at the hands of her parents.

“It’s just upsetting that they only loved me.” She whispers and for a second, Oscar doesn’t understand what she’s saying. But, the tense of her words dawns on him and the look on her face unleashes anger in his body. Loved. It’s upsetting that her parents loved her. They no longer do in her eyes. She once had parental support, love, but it’s obvious how transactional, conditional it was now. She got a taste of what it was like to be loved by them, but it was taken away when she needed it the most. She had mentioned to him before that growing up, she felt as if they used her presence to shy away from the problems of their marriage. When she was out of the house, she thought they would separate, but the opposite has happened. She served her purpose, now they throw money at trips to fill the void of what they have refused to face. Disregarded and thrown away, that’s the implications of what she’s confided.

He nods, tears in his eyes, “It’s so unfair of them to treat you this way. They’re your parents. They should be there for you, but they have never known how to love and you were just an unnecessary victim in it all.”

She wipes the moisture from her face, “I should just move on from the way they’ve treated me. I should give them grace because they’re my parents. I should just make peace with it all because this will never be fixed in the way I want it. But, I can’t.”

Oscar kisses the top of her head, “It’s okay that you can’t. That’s completely understandable. Giving grace just because they’re your family members isn’t right, Y/n. Just because there’s a blood relation doesn’t mean you can excuse their behavior. They’re your parents and they have neglected you for ages. You can’t keep giving everything to them, only to get nothing in return. Parents or not, you distance yourself from people who bring you down as much as they do.”

More tears smear against his chest, “But, they’re my parents, Osc.”

It’s as if he doesn’t know what to say because he knows how much she praises their drive and determination, giving her a life of privilege. Though, he stands firm on the idea that no one should be given a second chance if they “love” this way.

“I know, Y/n, and it’s so horrible that you’ve been put in this situation, but I think it would do you some good to let go of a part of them. You’ll go home and see them for birthdays, Christmases, but, in the time between, you don’t have to chase after them. You can find love in other things, happiness in other things. I’ll even do some of it with you. We can take up painting classes like you always wanted, walks in that park down the street that you love, studying in coffee shops, and watching the sunset. Life without them can be freeing.”

He’s right, she thinks. Life without them will be freeing. But, the story of letting go is never easy and finding yourself flipping to past chapters to hold onto something that isn’t there anymore is usual.

However, as she lays tangled in the limbs of Oscar, she finds future chapters to be more exciting, more fulfilling. Her whole life is ahead of her, one including Oscar, and that sudden revelation fills her with an overwhelming relief. His listing of all the things she loves, wants to try desperately reminds her just how in love with her he is. Every action of hers is noted by him and she’s spent years begging for that from her parents. She never got it, but maybe that was because something else softer lied in the cards for her. At times, her parents needed her, but they would always need something else more. Glamorous, shiny, new things that would satisfy them for a time. She would never be enough in the minds of them, but in the mind of Oscar, she was more than enough. It was clear she was everything to him.

A life with him would be different from the one handed to her on a broken, rusty platter. She wanted that with him and the way he looked at her told her he did too. Letting go of the dismissal of people she has killed herself for to make proud was maybe for the best, pushed her in the direction of focusing on Oscar and everything she’s ever wanted. Was this her mending old, deep wounds?

Loved and cherished, she found sleep once more, rejuvenated with hope and a sense of moving on.

#mclaren #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #oscar pia #oscar piastri fanfiction #oscar piasstri #oscar piastri imagines #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri #oscar piastri fluff #oscar piastri smut #oscar piastri x reader #op81 #op #op81 x reader #op81 imagine #op81 fluff #op81 fic #op81 x you #op81 smut #op81 angst

[star-girl69]

American Teenager

Clarisse La Rue x Fem!Demigod!Reader

—-

synopsis: you get caught in the crossfire of clarisse’s anger, and have to convince clarisse you love every part of her.

a/n: i took over a year off, cut you bitches some slack…… TELL A FRIEND TO TELL A FRIEND… SHE’S BAAAAAACKKKK!!!!!!!!!

for those who do not know, i changed my theme. yes it is me. do you like it 😀

American Teenager - Ethel Cain

warnings: NOT BETA READ!!!, ending sucks yet again but i cant be bothered, y/n gets PUNCHED!!!!!!, creepy men, violence, very sad clarisse, IT IS VERY HARD FOR HER TO TALK ABOUT HER FEELINGS BUT SHE TRIES, swearing, usual demigod stuff, tell me if i missed anything!!

—-

Clarisse is angry.

She has been angry all of her life, you know that. She was born with a fire in her veins that came straight from her godly father, potent and rolling around inside of her like a storm, a rabid dog biting at a cage, and nurtured over the years by a stern mother.

Clarisse was a recipe for destruction, for pain, for suffering. That’s what most people thought she was. They all thought she was her father’s daughter- full of fire, and she would never be anything else except the mean bully all the campers had grown to somewhat resent.

But she was more than that. She was your girl, she was everything you wanted and had prayed for years for. You knew she was angry, you knew she carried regret in her heart, you knew she ate up anything nice inside of her long ago.

But you didn’t care.

You gave her some of your own softness, your own nicety, drew it out of her with soft touches and sweet words, until she learned to love you and believed that she was the girl you always saw hidden inside.

Clarisse is angry.

You know that, you know the harsh girl you fell in love with, and you know the sweet girl she really is.

So, it’s no surprise to you that Clarisse has spent the entire afternoon glued to your side, glaring at anyone who walks by- but particularly her brother, Caden.

Caden has some sort of inferiority complex coupled with extreme sexism. He couldn’t stand the fact Clarisse was better than him, that she was the camp counselor instead of him. She had received her beloved spear from their father, he had no gifts to show.

Somewhere in his fucked up head he realized he couldn’t force his father to notice him, couldn’t uproot Clarisse from her counselor position, and though the next best thing was to go after you.

It started with glances that lasted too long, then subtle touches during camp activities, then actively flirting with you when Clarisse wasn’t around.

The only reason Caden had been allowed to this for this long was because you didn’t want to tell Clarisse and be responsible for what could very possibly be Caden’s death. You felt dirty, having his hands on you, barely-hidden sexual remarks whispered in your ear, his eyes on you- practically undressing you.

Clarisse would kill him if she knows what he’s done, how it makes you feel. And you really don’t want blood on your hands, so you avoid him as much as possible and attach yourself to Clarisse.

It’s a rare afternoon that you both have free, and it’s snatched with greedy hands and stretched out long like molasses, the two of you move slow and leisurely, try to sink into this time together.

You promised your sister you would help with the arts and crafts class she runs, spewing something about how you’re the best at making friendships bracelets- but really, her usual partner is on a quest and taking care of the rowdy 12 year olds is not an individual task.

So, here you are, sitting at a picnic table and making sample bracelets, feeling the sun on your face and Clarisse’s arms around you. She sits sideways, her front pressed against your side, straddling the bench. She watches the way the sun hits your face, the way your fingers move swiftly as you continue to bead and tie together.

There’s been this pit in your stomach since Caden started his advances- like a new organ had formed inside of you, pure black instead of a usual pink flesh. A physical form of all your guilt and disgust, filled with the dirt like you felt like.

It’s still there, even through the gaps of hot sunlight, the cooling shade of the tree above, but it’s easier to ignore when Clarisse is there. It’s easier to ignore, but it’s still there.

“I don’t understand how you’re so good at those,” Clarisse mumbles. She kisses your shoulder and you dig your feet into the dirt, smiling to yourself.

“I don’t either,” you smile. “What can I say? I’m the queen of friendship bracelets.”

“Ha,” she says, somewhat sarcastically, but you can hear the fond, loving smile in her voice. “How much longer?” she asks.

“Two more. Maybe 10 more minutes?”

“Okay,” she hums, drawing out the word. “Wanna get somethin’ to eat after this?”

“Yeah,” you say, looking away from the bracelets for just a second- to admire her like she gets to admire you.

“Nah, nah, you better finish those bracelets so I can have all your attention on me again.” She presses her face against yours, pushing you to face forward again and focus.

She departs with a kiss to corner of your lips, and you wonder if you really need all six example bracelets, but you know your sister would kill you if you didn’t show up tomorrow with six. You sigh and turn back to your bracelets, listening to the sweet sound of Clarisse laughing.

“Okay,” she says, leaning closer to you after a minute. “I’ll be back in a few, okay? I’m just gonna go change into shorts.”

“Okay,” you smile, and she squeezes your waist as she stands up. The feeling inside of you sinks in even more, the blackness in your stomach, but you focus on the feeling of the sun and her promise that she’ll come back soon.

“First time I’ve seen you alone in weeks.”

Your stomach sinks.

You’re a demigod and you deal with monsters and the whims of gods daily- but there’s something about humans, about demigods that makes you especially scared.

A step below a God, filled with resentment and blessed with superhuman abilities.

You’re not sure you’ve ever felt fear like this.

You glance up at him, quickly gathering all your bracelet supplies, shoving it into the pockets of your jeans without much care.

You force a smile, pretend like nothing’s wrong.

“Sorry,” you say. “I’m just leaving. Nice seeing you, Caden!”

“Why you leavin’ so quick, baby?”

“Meeting Clarisse,” you smile through gritted teeth.

“Well, I just saw my sister walk away so… are you lying to me, Y/N?” he laughs slightly, almost as if the idea of you not being completely observing of his will is unheard of, laughable.

“Yeah, I was just finishing up.” You shove a pile of beads into your pocket, moving for the next one-

His hand covers yours.

“You don’t look done. Sit down, huh?”

You glance around the courtyard, not even bothering to hide your fear like you were taught- at the sight of him, his tall stature, the fact he could easily overpower you- you forget everything you ever learned and turn into a puddle of fear. You’re fucking terrified, and it would be humiliating if it wasn’t just the most basic human tendencies preserving in you.

You can’t be embarrassed about biology, about what your human body was designed to do. At the end of the day, your blood is red- not gold.

“No, no, I really gotta go.” You rip your hand away, mourning the loss of a few beads that didn’t quite escape with you. Instead of dwelling on that, you quickly turn around and head towards the main pavilion, where there are more campers- maybe you can find Matty or Carrie, another one of Clarisse’s siblings who would just get him off your back.

But, he follows. Of course he follows. He’s a man who’s never been told no, and he won’t be refused by you.

“Y/N,” he drawls, voice still teasing.

You clench your fists and walk faster, finally risking a glance over your shoulder- you slam into a familiar warm body you have spent countless nights with, now wearing a pair of jean shorts.

One hand swings around your waist, the other sits over her hip- where her favorite dagger is hidden.

“Y/N?” she asks, not taking her eyes off of Caden, but her voice is soft and full of concern.

“Nothing, Clar. It’s fine, let’s just go, yeah?”

She looks at you for just a second, and you haven’t had time to school your features back into a flat facade, so there’s still fear all over your face.

“What the fuck did you do, Caden?”

“Just tryin’ to spend time with Y/N. That a crime?”

He avoids calling you her girlfriend, even though that’s how most of the Ares cabin has come to know you.

“Yeah,” she says, slightly incredulously. “You hit your head too hard? She’s my fuckin’ girlfriend. I don’t know what you did, but don’t do it again.”

It’s like a sixth sense, the way you feel his eyes rake down your body, lingering on your ass. The blackness inside of you squeezes, and you feel the sudden urge to throw up, squeezing your eyes shut-

Clarisse tugs you behind her.

“Don’t fucking look at her, Caden.”

Her voice is level in barely-masked rage, and it honestly would scare you a little bit- if it wasn’t for the way her hand caressed your hip so softly.

“I’m not hurtin’ anyone. She probably likes it, huh?”

You wonder if he genuinely thinks he’s flirting with you, or just trying to piss Clarisse off.

Her jaw clenches.

“Four weeks laundry duty.”

His smile drops.

“Don’t fucking test me, Caden.”

You’re silently surprised at her strength, so you quickly grab her hand and squeeze, trying to urge her forward. Your stomach feels lighter, hoping that maybe- finally, finally he’ll leave you alone-

“Really, Clarisse?” The edge of desperation in his tone is pathetic. “You’re gonna choose her over your own half-brother. We both know who’d she choose between the two of us though, huh? The stronger one. The better one. She’d choose the son.”

She drops your hand and spins around.

“Clarisse,” you warn. “Clarisse.”

But she seems to be lost in her own world, where everything narrows down to him and the cocky look on his face, memory of his words, and you know any trace of your sweet girl is gone and it’s just the anger.

You quickly push yourself in between them, putting your hands out to Clarisse- you feel sort of stupid, but you’re desperate for her to just turn around, to take you with her, for the two of you to do like she said and get something to eat. You want to eat by the beach with her, you want to feel her in the sun, you wanna let yourself believe that four weeks of laundry duty will deter him.

“Y/N,” she says, warning you, and you know she won’t stop.

“Clarisse, I’m telling you, turn around. He’s not worth it.”

You can hear his smile.

“You won’t be saying that when I finally get my hands on you, baby.”

Fuck.

“Clarisse!” you shout, knowing its coming- she aims around you, pushing you out of the way as she sets a deadly punch on path with his face.

But it doesn’t hit him. It doesn’t hit him, and he gasps in shock before quickly running away, not wanting to deal with the consequences of his actions.

And you can’t blame him, because with your knees on the ground and the sting of Clarisse’s fist on your cheek- you should have just let her fucking kill him.

—-

Clarisse hasn’t looked at you in two weeks.

After you fell to the ground, completely disoriented by her punch, you remember the sound of her screaming and Caden laughing as he ran away. You remember her hands shaking as she helped you up, touching you as little as possible, staring at her now red knuckles.

Although you really didn’t have to, she led you to the healers, and one of the Apollo kids looked at your swelling eye, gave you something for the pain, and said you could leave.

And then, she made sure you got home safe to your cabin and hasn’t looked at you again.

In hindsight, knowing that that was the end of the relationship you used to have, it feels like a bad goodbye for something so good. You can’t even call it a goodbye, because it wasn’t good at all. There should have been something. Something more.

You remember the way Clarisse couldn’t stop staring at her bruised knuckles, you remember the way she couldn’t look you in your eyes, couldn’t touch you- wouldn’t allow herself to touch you.

That night, the relationship you had with Clarisse ended. But, you were still as in love with her as ever, you didn’t blame her for simply trying to protect you- you were the person who stepped in front of her. One second you weren’t there, the next you were. She didn’t have time to pull her punch, she didn’t have time to aim somewhere else- you don’t blame her.

You remember her saying she was sorry as she helped you to the healers. Sorry, over and over again. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, baby, Y/N, sweetheart, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry. You almost asked her to stop saying it, because the word was starting to sound weird. You almost told her it was unnecessary-because it was- but you didn’t get the chance. She made sure you got home safe to your cabin. She said she was sorry again, and then two weeks of torture commenced.

And you’re fucking sick of it. Sick of her acting like a coward, running away instead of owning up to the consequences of her actions- you aren’t mad at her for punching you. You never were.

You’re mad at her for leaving you in the days after, the nights where you couldn’t sleep on your favorite side because of the bruise. The nights where you would yawn and tears would well in your eyes, and it burned as it rolled down the sensitive skin. The nights where you would forget, and you would expect her to crawl into your bed like usual- but you would fall asleep alone and wake up alone.

You’re mad at her for abandoning you, for refusing to talk to you, to figure it out. Because while what you had before is gone, you can still have something new.

“Are we sure this is a good idea?” your friend Tyla asks.

“Yeah,” Jackie, your other friend, continues. “Like, she did literally punch you in the fucking face- are we sure that’s not some sort of subconscious thing?”

She shrinks at the harsh glares you and Tyla give her.

“Okay. That was mean,” she says, softly. “Sorry.”

You roll your eyes and continue walking towards the training fields, where you know the entire Ares cabin is practicing hand-to-hand skills.

“I told you,” you huff. “She was trying to protect me from Caden. She loves me, she’s just angry. Angry at herself, but she shouldn’t be.”

“What even happened to Caden?” Tyla asks, noses scrunching at the fact she has to even say his name. “I mean, I saw him walking around with that broken face but-”

“Clarisse!”

You look up to the top of the small hill, the plateau where the sparring rings are marked into the grass by eco-friendly spray paint.

She’s holding one of her siblings down, her knee on his back, her hands holding his arms behind his back.

“Stop! I tap out, I tap out, Clarisse!” The boy screams. She smiles softly before letting him go and standing up.

He lays face down on the ground for a minute, breathing heavily before he finally picks himself up- staring at Clarisse’s offered hand. After a moment, he takes it and lets her tug him up. He nods at her and walks away to his friends, moaning about his arms and his back.

Clarisse shakes out her hands and looks around, but she knows no one wants to spar with her after that, even thought even from here you can see the fire in her veins. The need for a fight, for something to distract her. The need for movement, hard and fast. The need for anger to be the only thing she can feel.

“Me next?”

“Y/N,” Tyla hisses, and Jackie reaches out to grab you but you merely shake her off.

Clarisse’s eyes lock with yours.

It takes you a second to recognize the emotion in her eyes. Her body tenses up, she seems frozen in place like a deer in headlights. She’s scared.

“Clar,” you smile, meeting her in the circle.

She tears her eyes away from you, choosing instead to stare at the grass.

“I’m not fighting you. Go.”

“I’m not asking you to fight me,” you smile. “I’m asking you to spar with me.”

She rolls her eyes.

“I’m not sparring with you.”

It’s so tense, no matter how much you try to make it like before, no matter how much you smile and try to look in her eyes.

“Can I talk with you, then?”

You shuffle closer, and she doesn’t move.

“Y/N,” she sighs. She looks up at you, but you can tell she’s staring right past you, towards the tree line. “Please don’t make me do this.”

“Do what?” you snort. “Face your feelings? Let me help you?”

Her face is level, almost bored. She turns her face into a facade, a mask of nothingness. She won’t let you in, not now, and it makes you angry.

You would take anything from her right now.

You want her to hate you. You want her to love you. You want everything and anything.

You would take another punch, as long as you got to feel her skin on yours for a split second.

You dig your foot into the ground and glare at her.

“Clarisse. I’m serious, I want to talk to you.”

Her eyes meet yours for a split second, before she’s moving.

“Too bad. Forget me,” she says over her shoulder.

She fucks up and she runs away.

“Clarisse!” you shout, following her out of the training field, out of view from the eyes that were trying and failing not to look at the two of you. “You can’t leave me here. You can’t just pretend like the last year we’ve been together didn’t happen.”

“It’s better that way,” she sighs, like she’s doing you some big favor by staying away from you, when all she’s doing is hurting you.

“It’s not!” you shout, finally surging forward and grabbing her wrist-

She whips around and tugs her wrist out of your grip.

You don’t think she’s ever once refused your touch.

It burns. It burns in your heart so badly, burns worse than any regret you could ever feel.

“Don’t,” she says, like she’s warning you. “I’m- I’m trying to protect you, okay? Just- stop bein’ fuckin’ stubborn.”

You take a dejected step back, even though all you want to do is run into her arms.

“I don’t get it,” she continues, folding her hands behind her back. Her eyes finally land on the faded bruise. “Why don’t you hate me?”

The heartbreak in her voice hurts more than the punch, than the nights without her.

“Because I love you, Clar. I don’t care about what happened, it was an accident- you’re the only one who can’t see that.”

“I hurt you.”

“The only thing that hurts is you being away from me.”

“Nah,” she says, taking a step back. She shakes her head, staring at your eye before finally turning away. “I’m only anger, Y/N. I’ll only hurt you. And I can’t take hurting you again.”

The feeling of staring at her back, the sound of her footsteps crunching in the leaves, hurts so bad it creates another new organ in your body.

This time, it’s like a tumor growing from your heart, encasing it so every beat is a struggle, every breath is ragged. This new organ carries your heartbreak, and it grows bigger by the second.

—-

It’s starting to feel like Clarisse is never going to even look at you again.

Even when you look straight at her from across the pavilion, she doesn’t look back. You stare at her back all day. The memory of her walking away from you replays in your mind every time you close your eyes.

You wonder, when it’s just you in your lonely bed, if Clarisse isn’t angry but rather scared. She’s angry at herself for hurting you, yes, but she’s terrified she’ll do it again. And you know Clarisse rarely feels fear, and you want nothing more but to help her navigate these unknown feelings- but she won’t let you in.

You don’t know how to let her help you, but you give her time. You stare at her when you hope she isn’t looking, you wrap your arms around yourself and pretend it’s her, you dream of her lips and the way she holds you, the way she loves you.

Clarisse took you to the docks for one of your dates. The fourth? The fifth? Somewhere around there, but it was the first time you kissed. Both of you had realized that you liked each other but agreed to take it slow, but you’d never forget the way she looked at you after you put the flower she brought you into your hair. The way she looked at you when you let your feet hang over the edge, kicking the water. The way your thigh pressed against hers, ankles hooked together.

You’ll never forget the way you looked up at her after dipping your fingers into the cool water, the control and self restraint finally leaving her eyes, her body, as her face sunk into a wide smile and she slammed her lips into yours.

The dock is sacred to the two of you, so when you’re missing her, especially during this sunset, this is where you go.

And it’s perfect. It’s so perfect you can almost convince yourself she’s here with you.

Except, if she was here with you, there wouldn’t be this tumor on your heart.

At the sound of his voice, the other organ your emotions have formed twists.

“This wasn’t my plan, y’know.”

“Go away, Caden,” you moan. Is it a crime to want to wallow in your own self pity? It is a crime to want the black organs inside of you to swallow you whole?

“I just wanted to knock Clarisse down a few pegs, and I certainly did that. Paid the price, too, you seen my fuckin’ face?”

It looks as horrible as it always does, you think, but you bite your tongue.

“I wanna be alone, Caden. Please.” You bite the word out like you’re a hyena choking on a laugh.

“But, c’mon.”

He steps closer to you, until you can feel him looming over you, tips of his sneakers pressing into your ass, he’s so close to you. You kick the water, annoyed, but he either doesn’t get the hint or ignores it.

“I’m not that bad, am I? Do me a favor, baby, let me cart you around for a few days and make her miserable.”

You’re about to just get up and leave all together when the sound of someone stepping onto the dock surprises you.

“Get away from her.”

But there’s something unspoken in the air. You’re just “her” now- not “my girlfriend” not “her’s.”

“Why are you always fuckin’ bothering me, Clarisse?”

You turn around. She smiles sarcastically.

“Why are you always fuckin’ bothering Y/N?”

“I’m not botherin’ her though, huh?”

He reaches down to grab at a piece of your hair, running it in between his fingers.

You flinch, but you’re more focused on the way Clarisse’s fists clench, her jaw ticks.

“Caden,” you sigh, batting his hand away.

“Seems like a pretty clear no to me, huh?”

Caden sighs and straightens, letting your hair fall from his fingers.

“What are you going to do about it, Clarisse? You gonna try and punch me- again? Try to hit the right person this time, huh?”

“Go fuck yourself, Caden.” She finally, finally, looks at you. You feel blessed and divine, like she’s a goddess who’s taken the time to merely look at you. “C’mon, Y/N.”

You scramble up to follow her beckoning hand at the same time Caden shifts on his feet.

He knocks into you, and you’re on the edge of the dock, and you scream as you fall in.

The water wasn’t that deep, but it was cold and embarrassing, and you fell at an awkward angle.

You surface, paddling to keep yourself afloat, coughing water out of your mouth and glaring up at him.

“Shit,” he swears, quickly running down the dock before you can shout some curse on his entire bloodline.

“Y/N?!” Clarisse shouts, panic on her face falling immediately at the sight of you afloat. She breathes out, fixing her hair that got all moved around in her frantic sprint down the dock. “You good?”

“Does it look like I’m good?” you deadpan.

She smiles.

“C’mon, come around to the ladder.”

She smiles as she helps you up, wrapping an arm around you even though you’re soaking wet, and you’re so mesmerized at the sight of her smiling, the feeling of her smiling at you that you can’t even comprehend it.

She has her arm wrapped around you.

She’s touching you.

Gods, did you miss this.

“Cold?” she asks, your hips pressed together as you walk down the dock.

“Yeah,” you whisper, feeling how warm she is against you. “I’ll be okay, though.”

“How long has he been… doing that?”

Your eyes meet hers.

“Jackie and Tyla told me- yelled at me, really- after they cornered me the other day. They said you were really fucked up about everything, and I should talk to you and I- I don’t know. I thought staying away was for the best.”

You cringe at the memory from a few nights ago, when you finally broke down and cried like a baby in front of your friends because of how much you missed her.

“And I saw you at the dock, and then fuckin’ Caden got over here before I could,” she laughs, dryly. “Whatever. I’ll walk you back-”

“Will you talk to me, Clar?”

You both stop, beachy sand sticks to your wet shoes, and Clarisse nervously looks away before you prod.

“I’m not mad at you. And I know you’re mad at yourself, and scared-”

She scoffs, but it’s halfhearted.

“But I love you, Clarisse. I love you, and I don’t blame you. Don’t blame yourself, and love me.”

In the sunlight, you can still see the remnants of the bruise. Softly, she reaches out and traces her pointer finger around your eye.

Her touch is so soft, the pad of her finger so rough- that sweet juxtaposition with her has always made your mind fuzzy. She makes all the tension in your body melt away. She makes everything better.

She swallows hard.

“I’m sorry,” she breathes, tears welling in her eyes. “I know I’ve said it so much, but I’m so fucking sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. I didn’t- I didn’t mean to hit you, I swear on my father-”

Her voice chokes up, and you can tell she hates the fact she’s crying, so you draw her into your neck and let her hide away there. Running your hands through her hair, telling her it’s okay each time she apologizes.

“I know who you are,” you say when the tears have stopped, and you’re just relishing being in each other’s arms again. “I know who I fell in love with, and I know who you are. You’re angry and you’re sweet, you’re mean and you’re kind, and I love all of it. Don’t doubt that, please.”

She breathes out before leaving the comfort of your neck, putting her shaky hands on your face.

“I love all of you,” you repeat.

She smiles softly.

“I love all of you.”

She kisses your eye softly, literally almost like a butterfly landing on your eyelid, unable to not whisper one more apology against your skin.

You roll your eyes, smiling to match her.

“And don’t think I’d leave you over one mistake, seriously, La Rue. You insult me.”

She rolls her eyes too, thumb stroking your cheek.

“Oh, forgive me,” she teases.

“You’re already forgiven,” you smile, eyes traveling down to the lips you’ve been dreaming about. “But kiss me to make sure.”

—-

“-and he would just look at me all the time. That was the creepiest part, I think. Like, okay, he would feel up on me sometimes, but whatever. I could avoid him. At meals I would just be minding my business and he would be staring at me. More just annoying, you know? And, yeah. That made me feel horrible, like literally sick. I just felt so dirty, so fucked up- Clar?”

You watch as she stares up at the ceiling, cracking her knuckles.

“Clarisse,” you scold.

You shift from your stomach to your side, head propped up so you can properly look at her. Your bed is full and warm now that she’s here.

“Oh, no, keep goin’, baby.”

“Do not kill him. Do not hurt him. I told you, I don’t want that on my conscience.”

“Nah, I know, sweetheart. I’m just thinking about it, don’t take that away from me, huh?”

You roll your eyes, but a smile crosses its way onto your face. She smiles back, and it just feels so surreal, so different- but exactly like it’s supposed to be. You know Clarisse is angry, but you know she’s sweet too. Clarisse knows you love all of her.

She draws you to lay on her chest, hand in your hair, the other slipping under your shirt to scratch your back.

“I’m sorry you felt like you couldn’t tell me,” she whispers. “That’s the worst thing. You were dealing with all this alone- and I had no fucking idea.”

“Yeah. ‘Cause being with you made it better, of course you didn’t notice.”

She kisses your forehead. “You’re too sweet, baby.”

You smile and kiss her chest.

“I’m only not killing him ‘cause you asked, I hope you know that. If it was up to me, he’d be dead.”

“Oh, baby, I know lots of other ways we can channel that emotion.”

You glance up at her and she searches your eyes before promptly throwing you to the side and climbing on top of you.

Yeah, Clarisse is angry. But you love her angry.

—-

clarisse staring at her hands like they’re covered in blood: oh gods… oh gods what have i done. what have i done (again that picture of ivan the terrible holding his d3ad son)

y/n: ouch! ok anyways- girl you did not kill me calm down.

—-

caden trying not to die after clarisse inconveniences him for the sixth time today… hides his favorite sword, permanently sticks him on laundry duty, puts literal “kick me” signs on his back, puts holes in his favorite clothes…

—-

y/n is that one song that goes “FUCK ME LIKE YOU MAD AT ME BABY I NEED A FREAK TO DRIVE ME CRAZZYYYYY”

…and she’s so real for that.

—-

taglist:

@lvrue @t-wylia @laughingcheese037 @kroumi @urdeadpoet @colezb @rey26 @harmzilla @elliewilliamsbae @amberfreemansburntface @kyuupidwrites @neverwaakeme-up @shark1008 @liballer @heyimadison @nvirskies @pnsteblnme @mar2ss @restellsss @ravisinghs-wife @marsconer @evangelinexo @randomhoex @luvrrish @rebecca37 @saltair-and-palemoonlight @ace-spades-1 @maxlynn17

@thewritingbarbie

—-

from this ask

#clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse la rue x y/n #clarisse la rue x you #pjo tv show #pjo x reader

[toyourheartandback]

WAITING LINE

book!percy jackson x reader

in which you have been waiting to be percy’s first choice since the first time you met him

word count: 1.45k

warnings: bad english and crearly ooc percy (because he’s such a complex character and i strongly believe his relationship with annabeth is fundamental for his development)

a/n: currently reading son and feeling very inspired to write a second part with older percy, but first i gotta see if at least one person gets interested in this one

you met percy jackson for the first time at 12 years old. the two of you stumbled across each other on the lakeshore by the limit of the forest, some days after him returning the lighting bolt and luke’s betrayal. camp halfblood was a mess, trying to recover from the possibility of a war between gods and the realization of being backstabbed by their favorite counselor, and that’s why both of you decided to search peace far from all of that.

when you approached the lake, percy was sitting into the water with damp clothes looking at the sun in front of him. it was time for apollo to rest from his work, but there were still enough light to let you see the tears on the boy’s cheeks once you got close to him. “can i stay here?” he moved his head in your direction at the question while attempting to get rid of the tears with his hand. “yeah, sure.”

the sand and the water were still warm when your bare feet touched it as you reached the close side of the son of poseidon and sat there. sea green eyes full of curiosity followed all of your movements. “i’m percy, what’s your name?” you giggled a little too loud at his first statement that he looked at you confused.

“do you really think i don’t know who you are?” of course you knew him. how could you not? everyone at camp talked about the little kid who killed a minotaur, returned the master bolt and saved olympus all in one week. he was a hero and a cute one as well. “i’m y/n between.”

percy blushed at your words and you couldn’t help but feel yourself do the same at the sight. “nice to meet you, y/n” he had a bright welcoming smile on his face and the two of started talking for hours after that moment. sharing insecurities, passions, feelings and moments. everything that came to your minds. the both of you felt finally seen after some tremendous weeks.

that time was one of many through the years. during the school year you would send letters to each other and while at camp you would meet up when you could make time for that, between his quests and the war. it was always at that same spot on the lakeshore after dinner. just the two of you, alone.

your friendship was like a whisper, a quiet secret. you weren’t that close outside of your private encounters full of emotions and doubts about your lives. percy had his friends, his adventures and a prophecy to fulfill. he didn’t have the time for you.

nonetheless you didn’t care if you were able to see each other just once a week because it was enough. until the letters stopped arriving in your mailbox and percy started ignoring you at camp. the first time was because of rachel and then when he started dating annabeth. you were very happy for him, but you were also crying in your cabin at night missing the guy who knew you the best.

at some point you had to move on with your life. percy and annabeth were perfect for each other. he didn’t need your silly conversations anymore when he could just talk to his nice little girlfriend. so you moved on and it was like you and him have never been anything for one another. simply two people whose lives never crossed.

that was all before he decided to startle your life again. “since when do you still pray?” his unexpected voice made a shiver go through your spine. you were in the waiting line for burning your offerings to the gods at dinner and percy was just right behind you, probably also waiting for his turn like you were. “i could tell you the same thing” you said looking at him smirking at your words.

he seemed more mature since the last time you two had an interaction together. probably it was achille’s curse or the weight of the war on his shoulders, but to you it was deeper than that. he wasn’t the little kid crying on the lakeshore that you met years prior anymore. he almost resembled a god and you would have believed he was if you didn’t know better.

“i don’t” percy answered you with a shrug of his shoulders and deep green eyes looking at yours. “usual spot tonight?” you were at loss of words but a million thought in your head, so you just nodded. he showed you the biggest and most radiant smile ever and left you baffled in front of the burning fire.

perhaps it was stupid agreeing. after months trying to forget him, you just didn’t need the wound to be open again. but you still went to that same old spot that night right after dinner and percy was already there, waiting for you. all of your doubts were swept away when he looked at you.

gods, you missed him.

“i’m glad you came” he genuinely seemed happy to see you, almost relieved. his hands were fidgeting with riptide as a pen and his puppy eyes were focused on yours. your heart was doing cartwheels and backflips at the mere sight of percy jackson. you pulled yourself together by focusing your gaze behind the boy and reminding yourself of your well thought argument that you prepped before approaching him. “percy, why are we here?”

“I think we should talk” you sighed at his answer, fixing your camp t-shirt nervously while still facing the shining water instead of his deep stare of the same color. “talk about what?” you just wanted the boy to acknowledge how unfair he had been with you, rather than pushing you away. you wanted closure.

he placed riptide in his jeans pocket and got closer to you, trying to get in your line of sight. “i missed you” your cheeks were flushing an unintentional bright red at his words that only got worse once the son of poseidon grabbed your hands. “i’m lost without your support” percy’s touch on your skin was as tender as his voice in your ears.

“you have other people in your life to rely on” your bitterness was shown as you scoffed. the boy squeezed your hands and gave you a sweet smile, getting so close that you could breathe the comforting smell of salt water. “annabeth and i broke up” you pushed him away as hard as your heart sank at his words.

“i’m just your rebound” you felt so stupid for misplacing his actions towards you. percy was there only because he felt alone and you were his last and most desperate choice. tears started rolling down your cheeks as you were overwhelmed with emotions. “no, y/n, no” he tried to come closer but you shoved him off. “i couldn’t bear being near you before” his whole being was showing guilt and worry, but you could only see pity for you.

“i need to be alone” you were already backing away from him, rubbing your face to stop crying and trying to compose yourself. percy was frenetically apologizing as he was attempting to grab your arms to make you stay with him. “please, i’m sorry, just listen to me” he looked like a rumbling mess, but you couldn’t have this conversation with him that day. you thought you were ready to confront him and you were wrong.

you had gotten the explanation of his behavior that you so ardently needed, therefore you could leave and you did. you just walked away from him and went straight to your cabin, shutting the door behind. you thanked the gods that your siblings were at the campfire as you started violently sobbing.

he was being unfair to you. you were just starting to get over him and then he barged into your peacefulness with his cocky handsome smile and pretty dark hair which you weren’t able to ignore. the son of poseidon knew how whipped you were of him and that you would have always waited for him to affirm your place in his life, but you were tired of being left on the sidelines for when he needed a shoulder to cry on. you didn’t need to be made second to annabeth or rachel or anyone else, not a goddamn prophecy either. you were going to be first on someone else’s line if you couldn’t be on percy’s.

#percy jackson #pjo #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson and the olympians #hoo #heroes of olympus

[bbsantc]

my favorite bts fics so far (maknae!line + ot7)

hello lovely readers, i hope all of you are doing great. i really want to share the amazing work and talent that many authors have on this app. as a literature fan and hopeless romantic myself, i made sure to pick out all the fics that i think are beautiful and amazing :) this post includes the maknae line + ot7 fics. i also made a hyung line fic rec post if you want to check it out here heheh :p

disclaimers!!!!:

some of these fics contain nsfw content (minors dni), or some heavy themes

this is a pretty long post lmao

all pictures are from pinterest!

once again this is the key for the fics :)

fluff- ♾️

angst- Ω

smut- ☻

crack/humor- ☼

i would sell my liver to read this again for the first time- ¶

Park Jimin

series:

The Promised Iris- @akinnie75 ♾️Ω

''Pair: Jimin x Reader

Genre: Romance, Fluff, Slight Angst, Slow Burn, Fantasy, Soulmate AU

Word Count: 20k

Summary: During one rainy summer day at the park, a stranger name Jimin suddenly confesses that he’s in love with you. At first, you thought that Jimin was a stalker, but it turns out that there’s something he’s hiding from you.''

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

oneshots:

balletteacher!jimin x ballerina!y/n - @jungshookz ♾️☼ (there are more drabbles for this oneshot lolz)

''pairing: park jimin x reader

genre: balletteacher!jimin x ballerina!y/n au, fluff!!!! the fluffiest fluff!!! idk jimin just really cares about y/n okAY

wordcount: 2.5k''

him after all - @mercurygguk ♾️Ω☻

''➵ summary; a guy you’ve never met before scoops in and saves you from a very embarrassing situation and you can’t help but notice how cute he is.

pairing; jimin x f. reader final word count; 17,176 (sorry y’all) rating; 18+ content; strangers to lovers au, fluff/angst/smut, infidelity, multiple appearances from jjk, oc’s boyfriend being nasty and stupid af''

lover to lean on - @sketchguk ♾️Ω☻

''pairing: neighbor!jimin x florist!reader

➳ genre: neighbor AU, flower shop AU, smut, fluff, angst

➳ wc: 20k

➳ synopsis: for months, you can hear your no face neighbor and his ‘girlfriend’ singing and dancing and laughing and falling in love. above all, you can hear their bed banging against your shared wall, and they won’t ever let you sleep. you’d much rather stay up at night worrying about your own problems, like the weight of an unrequited crush, so of course you’re bitterly single. but one day, the apartment is radio silent. and one day slowly turns into one week and then into an immeasurable amount of time since you’ve heard his laugh. so on valentine’s day, when you’re missing it the most, you beg your neighbor to open up to you with cookies in one hand and two broken hearts in the other''

beneath the water - @jungshookz ♾️Ω ☻ ☼¶

''→ pairing: park jimin x reader

→ genre: mermaid!au/fantasy!au, an extra large order of fluff, comedy!!, jungkook being a brat as per usual, a touch of angst, and of course a sprinkling of nsfw

→ wordcount: 20.5k words holy moly''

into the wilderness - @gukyi ♾️Ω ☼

''summary: alright, so last summer’s camp was… disastrous. from the murky green showers to the wasps nests, it was all-around a bad time. but none of those things could be quite as catastrophic as the end-of-camp counselor campfire, when you told park jimin that you were in love with him. and if telling him was terrible, then seeing him again this summer, one year after your fruitless confession, just might be the death of you.

{camp counselor!au, unrequited love!au, friends to lovers!au}

pairing: park jimin x female reader genre: angst, fluff, comedy word count: 27k''

Kim Taehyung

series:

charade- @ughcore ♾️Ω☻

'' “Why would you help me? What are you gonna get out of this?”

Taehyung looks you up and down, the humour twinkling in his eyes like the fairy lights he helped you hang above the TV. He tucks his hands into his armpits, assessing you for a few more moments that leave your skin hot and itchy. 

“It’ll be nice to see you out of those fuzzy slippers for once,”

The double entendre lacing his words is nothing new. The tingles in your stomach, however? Yeah, those are brand new.”

kth / fake dating + roommate au + fuckboy!taehyung

ongoing (35k) ''

maybe i do- @chateautae ♾️Ω☻

''➵ summary :  maybe you love each other, maybe you don’t. when a deal between your fathers leaves you forcefully wedding kim taehyung, arguably seoul’s most powerful CEO, you’re prepared for a loveless marriage of eternal regret and unhappiness. but maybe, it doesn’t turn out that way after all.

↳  part of the high-class series!

➵ pairing : taehyung x reader

➵ genre :  arranged marriage!au, ceo!tae, s2l!au, eventual smut, fluff, angst

➵ rating : 18+

➵ warnings : swearing, mentions of alcohol consumption, mentions of anxiety, mentions of confrontative violence (with other characters, not each other), lots of feels concerning forced marriage, a bad ex (reader’s), mentions of bad sexual experiences with ex (consensual, just bad sex), explicit sexual content, oral (m. and f. receiving), unprotected sex, penetrative sex (chapters have their own warnings!)''

A Story that we paint - @thedefinitionofbts ♾️Ω

''PAIRINGS: Jeon Jungkook x Reader | Kim Taehyung x Reader 

GENRE: College Au, Future, Scifi, Slight Fluff and Angst

WORDS: 9K (ch.1)

DESCRIPTION: Butterfly Dream: In which the lines between virtual and reality are blurred.''

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

oneshots:

the universe of us. - @taesthetes ♾️Ω ¶

'' “I love you.” — “I know.”

pairing: jeon jungkook x reader | kim taehyung x reader genre: slight comedy, angst, fluff type: dream / fantasy / slice of life au word count: 21,112 words warnings: none''

you’re so concerned about the ending that you don’t even know the plot- @joonsgalaxy ♾️☼

''° yoongi x reader x taehyung

° 1.9 k words ° fluff/humor

🌟 you bring your broken laptop to Tae—the IT specialist—who you have a crush on. you drag your bff Yoongi along with you, who—you’re certain—has a crush on Tae too. what a mess, right? well, the thing is, you never even considered the possibility of your assumptions being totally wrong.''

stuck with you || [roommate!taehyung] - @jungshookz ♾️☼☻

''❥ pairing: kim taehyung x reader

❥ genre: university!au, enemies-to-lovers, fratboy!tae??, comedy that’ll either make you chuckle out loud or roll your eyes and snoRT or maybe u won’t laugh that’s cool too, domestic fluff because i want to go grocery shopping with tae toO (but also fluff in general!!), smutty smut so make sure to read this with your phone’s brightness lowered all the dang way, hi @ librarian!namjoon!!! fratboy!jungkook is also in here

❥ wordcount: 37k if ur reading this on mobile get rekt

❥ summary: kim taehyung becoming your new roommate is definitely up there on the list of the worst things that have ever happened to you.''

waterloo - @kinktae ♾️Ω☻¶

''Taehyung is a famous but pessimistic art prodigy who doesn’t believe in love. You are an art student studying in Paris, who sees the world through rose-colored lens and is a certified cheesy romance film enthusiast. And this is your love story.

Or, “Well, it is the city of love. Maybe you just need to fall in love.“

pairing: art prodigy!taehyung x art student!reader word count: 13k genre: FLUFF, angst, light tasteful smut''

falling in crayolove; (kindergartenteacher!taehyung) - @jungshookz ♾️

''✎ pairing: kim taehyung x reader

✎ genre: kindergartenteacher!au, workingman!au, F L U F F, tiny bit of angst at the start :-( but this is literally 98% fluff; y/n and taehyung are like two little kids with little crushes on each other

✎ trigger warning(s): implications of getting an abortion!!

✎ wordcount: 10.5k

✎ summary: y/n is a very single mom and taehyung is a very single kindergarten teacher. emma knows exactly what she needs to do.''

freefall - @jtrbluv ♾️☼☻

''summary: hearing banging noises outside your front door at 11 at night could mean one out of two things. one, you are seconds away from getting chopped up by an axe murderer. two, someone is purposefully being an inconsiderate asshole.

or three, a fratboy from delta phi who goes by the name of kim taehyung faceplants in front of your door amidst a high-stakes game of… hide and seek?

pairing: taehyung x reader

genre: fluff, smut (pretty tame tbh! cuz it’s my first time eek), comedy, college!au, fratboy!au

word count: 10k

warnings: RATED 18+, grinding, dryhumping, palming, mentions of drugs and alcohol (yk regular frat shit), swearing, taehyung is a gentleman fr tho my gawd with a big co-''

farmer boy, i love you - @strawberrynamjoon ♾️☼☻

''– Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

– Genre: farming!au, lowkey e2l, smut, humor & tons of nagging

– Word count: 35k

– Summary: Needing change in your life you decided it would be a brilliant idea to move to your uncle’s small farm, helping him and your cousin Jimin with the daily work. What you didn’t plan was to fall in love with your beautiful yet very annoying neighbour Taehyung, who seemed to make it his personal mission to tease you every chance he got. And what you expected even less was that he seemed to like you too.

– Warnings: includes smut, alcohol and mentions death of a father''

The Crown That Is Ours - @taeshobipop ♾️Ω☻

''pairing: Taehyung x Reader

genre: fluff, angst, smut, royalty!au, arranged marriage!au, crown prince!th, princess!reader, idiots to lovers

summary: You never wished for it, but it was inevitable — an arranged marriage to a royal stranger. The Crown Prince Kim Taehyung.

A year into your marriage and life still holds you firmly in its grip. How do you plan to steer through this mess when the public suddenly comes knocking at your door, pitchforks and torches in hand, threatening: “death to all who commit fraud!”

rating: 18+ sexual content.''

Rent-a-Boyfriend - @jimlingss ♾️

''Words: 12k

Genre: Extreme fluff for all you bitter people out there (me being included)

Are YOU lonely? Need someone to cuddle at night? Do you want love?

If you said 'yes' to any of the questions previously mentioned then we have a service for you!

Don't be alone for this Valentine's Day!

Come Rent-a-Boyfriend!™

(terms and conditions may apply. we are not responsible for any emotional or sentimental damages. please take caution with rent-a-boyfriend). ''

Jeon Jungkook

series:

new girl - @jjkeverlast ♾️☼☻¶

''☞ summary after finding out your boyfriend of 6 years cheated on you, you find yourself moving in with three guys in a loft. what could possibly go wrong? – inspired by the FOX series New Girl.

☞ pairing jeon jungkook x female reader

☞ genre roommates!au, roommates to lovers, romantic comedy

☞ status completed!

☞ rated mature (+18)''

Her - @jungk0oksthighs ♾️Ω☻

''bestfriend!jungkook, tattooist!jungkook, F2L, fluff, smut, angst

“And even if you don’t feel the same, that’s okay – I’ll always be here for you.” ''

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

oneshots:

like stars in a constellation - @taegills ♾️Ω ¶

''↬ meeting in reverse au

pairing: jeon jungkook | reader

genre: slight sci-fi, fluff, angst

word count: 20.9k

summary: And at midnight, as you sit there and contemplate how the two of you were like stars in a constellation, you watch the sky with bated breath. Because somehow, for the first time since you got caught up in all of this a year ago, it almost seems like the stars are finally spiraling backwards and time feels a little more still than ever before. And when you hear your name, you turn around so fast that the world stops spinning''

the universe of us. - @taesthetes ♾️Ω ¶

'' “I love you.” — “I know.”

pairing: jeon jungkook x reader | kim taehyung x reader genre: slight comedy, angst, fluff type: dream / fantasy / slice of life au word count: 21,112 words warnings: none''

tangled webs - @ughseoks ♾️Ω

''— pairing; spiderman!jungkook x reader

— genre/au; soulmate au / spiderman au / angst, fluff

— rating; pg15

— word count; 14.1k

— summary; Soulmates are tricky thing. Not everyone is lucky enough to have their destinies intertwined with their missing piece. Signs come in dreams for those fortunate souls; short bursts that are barely memorable when the sun rises. As for you? Flashes of red and blue are your only indicators to the identity of your other half.''

Hopping Mad for You - @readyplayerhobi ♾️☻

''; Rabbit Hybrid!Jungkook x Reader

; Genre: Fluff, smut

; Word Count: 9.7k

; Warnings: Unprotected sex, handjob, blowjob, virgin sex, virgin!Jungkook, pretty sub!Jungkook

; Synopsis: For two years you’ve lived with your rabbit hybrid roommate, Jungkook. He’s been a model roommate and you’ve found yourself with little complaints. But his behaviour lately has been a little…unusual.''

Devoted to Trouble - @jeonsweetpea ♾️Ω ☻ ☼

''Spider-Man!AU | Peter Parker!Jungkook x Reader

genre: fluff, smut, comedy, lil angst rating: explicit description: In which the whole world finds out Jungkook is Spider-Man, but he doesn’t care about anything but you. OR Can you survive seven days of Jungkook pining over you while his identity is exposed to the world? word count: 11.5k''

The Love Plaza - @mayolive-writes ♾️☻ ☼

''Pairing: Jungkook x AFAB Reader

Summary: Needing to take a break from the long trip to college, you and Jungkook are forced to stay at the only lodging available within 70 miles, a love motel. And much to Jungkook’s dismay, there’s only one bed.

Wordcount: 4102

Genre: Fluff, Comedy, Smut, Best Friends to lovers, Oneshot(?)''

the underwear thief - @gukyi ♾️☻

''summary: jeon jungkook would like to make one thing very clear: it’s not his fault.

{neighbors!au}

pairing: jungkook x female reader word count: 10k genre: fluff, smut''

1999 - @tattookoo ♾️Ω ☻ ☼

''summary: the year was 1999. boybands were wearing all-white outfits, everybody wanted an ibook or a tamagotchi, tlc didn’t want no scrubs, fight club was playing in movie theaters and you became jeon jungkook’s fake girlfriend in order to fix his reputation. 

pairing: campus royalty!jungkook x f reader 

genre: one shot, 90s au, college au, hockey au, childhood neighbors to friends to idiots to lovers, fake dating, fluff, crack, angst, smut  rating: 18+ 

word count: 17.9k''

tuesdays - @axialitae ♾️Ω

''tldr. you believe your very reserved, reclusive roommate jungkook is a peculiar boy who’s far too concerned with how you spend your tuesdays.

💭 prompt. “i don’t owe you an explanation.”

🤍 pairing. jungkook x f.reader.

🐻‍❄️ genre. non-idol au. pure domestic fluff. tiny angst. roomies + kinda dumb-dumbs to luvrs.

☁️ word count. 12.1k''

Tamped - @chimoona ♾️Ω ☻ ☼

''Pairing: Shop Owner!Reader x Barista!Jungkook/Switch!Jungkook/Baby Boy!Koo, Reader x Dom!Yoongi (for, like, a second) Genre: Smut, Fluff, Humor, Slow Burn, Mild Angst/Jealousy | Barista AU Word Count: 19.7K Rating: M (18+) Summary: You and your business partner/best friend Jin have struggled to find good help to run your coffee shop. Employee after employee, it just never worked out. However, Jungkook is determined to impress and deliver. He wants this more than ever, and it always feels good to want something. To need, well, that’s even better.''

(Right) Hook, Line, and Sinker - @blog-name-idk ♾️☻ ☼

''Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Fem Reader

Genre: College!AU, Roommate!AU, Fluff, Humor, Smut

Summary: Your horrible friends trick you into going to a haunted corn maze, where you inadvertently punch a zombie. Jungkook is, of course, in love.

Word Count: 12,353''

OT7

series:

The Return of an Empress - @you-are-my-joy ♾️Ω ☻ ☼¶

''Status: Completed

Pairing: OT7 x Reader

Genre: Isekai, Angst, Romance, Fluff, Smut

Characters: Empress!Reader, Advisor!Jin, Advisor!Yoongi, General!Hoseok, Advisor!Namjoon, Assassin!Jimin, Knight!Taehyung, Knight!Jungkook

Summary: After one fateful night, you find yourself transmigrated into your favorite novel as the Empress that shares the same name as you. As a bookworm, most would think you’d be happy, but how could you be happy when the Empress you’ve become is expected to be killed in three months. The only thing on your mind now is to learn how to survive.

Warning: May contain depictions of violence and mentions of abuse throughout the story.

Total Word Count: 280,808''

mother knows best - @seokth ♾️☼ ¶

''pairing | ot7 x female reader (platonic), ot7 moms & female reader

summary | being the only woman in a friend group with seven men automatically makes you the love interest in seven mothers’ wistful romantic stories. though your relationship with the guys remains completely platonic, the marriage fantasy their moms frequently project onto you and their sons has them coming up with all sorts of shenanigans to make you their daughter-in-law. mother knows best, you suppose.

warnings | overbearing moms, attempts at humor, platonic, slice of life au''

The Flower Path - @stellalunatmblr ♾️Ω ¶

''Genre/Tags: isekai (kinda?), bangtan x fem!reader, not poly, oc!bestfriend, surprise romantic pairings; rom-com (romance as a subplot), slow burn (the slowest of burns holy moly i cannot stress this enough), fluff, angst (will update tags along the way)

Status: Ongoing [HOLD]

Summary: What would you feel if you find yourself transported to the world of a cheesy web novel? Ecstatic, of course (well, among other things), except you’re stuck being the main character’s best friend slash sidekick. Fair enough, you don’t think you’re main character material anyway. Determined to get through your life that has changed all of a sudden, you try to keep yourself in the shadows of your “best friend.” Let’s just try to get through the last year of high school in peace. You thought it was gonna be easy – like a walk in a flower path– but the thing about walking that road is that there are bound to be thorns along the way.

Inspired by the web novel and manhwa: Inso’s Law''

operation: love letters - @ve1vetyoongi ♾️Ω ¶

 ''Sign up for the Love Calculator today to find your perfect match?

➤ YES | NO

♡ …L O A D I N G…Y O U R…M A T C H E S… ♡

♡ ⇢ pairing: ot7 x reader.

♡ ⇢ wordcount: est 30k total.

♡ ⇢ genre: mystery, college!au, romance, fluff, eventual smut.

♡ ⇢ summary: When every student on campus is going crazy about a survey that claims to make true love bloom, your best friend manages to convince you to join in on the fun — except you’re disappointed to find out that your results just seem to be lost causes. That is until a love letter from a mysterious secret admirer turns up and you find yourself on a mission to find the person behind the pen — but you quickly realise it’s going to be a lot harder than you initially thought when you have 7 possible bachelors to investigate, right? Operation: Love Letters a-go!''

The Galaxy Above Us - @agustdakasuga ♾️Ω

''Genre: Gods!AU, Fantasy, Romance, Fluff

Pairing: OT7 x Reader

Characters: Normal!Reader, God of Wisdom!Namjoon, God of Life!Seokjin, God of the Moon!Yoongi, God of Festivity!Hoseok, God of the Sun!Jimin, God of Nature!Taehyung, God of Arts!Jungkook

Summary: Just when you thought that you life was at its end, you were ready to disappear but a door appears in front of you. Above you was the milky way and awaiting you were the celestial beings that waited their whole lives for you. To show the galaxy that was made for you.''

Everything Falls (Into Place) - @blog-name-idk ♾️☻ ☼

''Pairing: OT7 x Fem Reader

Genre: College!AU, Roommate!AU, Fluff, Humor, Smut

Summary: Your new roommates are unbearably nice and unbearably hot. Good thing you're an adult who is fully capable of platonic friendships with the opposite sex, right?

Word Count: 90,211

Rating: 18+''

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

oneshots:

until the last star falls - @minniepetals ♾️Ω ¶

''— summary: it was a love you knew would never make it out alive without sacrificing a part of your happiness to receive a greater happiness. but for them, you’d go to any extreme to have them again, and for you, they will always remind you each day that you are theirs and that nothing can tear you apart, not even until the last star falls.

— pairing: underworld lords!bts × shield!reader

— genre: fluff, angst / reincarnation!au / poly!au / gods!au

— word count: 44.4k ”

Spooked - @alpacaparkaseok ♾️☼

''Pairing:best friend!BTS, maybe some secret crushes going on? 👀

Premise: You + all 7 members of BTS visiting a haunted house. What could go wrong?

So, so much.

Word Count: 4k''

#bts fanfic #bts fic recs #jimin fic recs #taehyung fic recs #jungkook fic recs #jimin x reader #taehyung x reader #jungkook x reader #jimin x y/n #taehyung x y/n #jungkook x y/n #ot7 x reader #platonic!bts ot7 x reader #ot7 x yn #ot7 fic rec #bts x reader #bts x you #bts x y/n #bts crack #jimin fluff #taehyung fluff #jungkook fluff #bts f2l #bts friends to lovers #bts fluff

[bubblergoespop]

My Top Gavin Quotes

this man is just pure love given form istg. @xanyiaz as promised, it’s gav’s turn, ta daaa~

“You can. I know you can.”

“What? I took my shirt off that was his tip.”

“Yes, I just sexualized a building.”

“I’d make an incredible Princess Peach. I’m a vision in pink.”

“My love.”

“Tell your guidance counselor that Gavin says hello. And that I hope the stains came out of his shirt.”

“Deviant, hold me back, the joke’s writing itself.”

“I know perfectly well what a miicrowahvé is. I just don’t know how to operate it.”

“I don’t suppose you feel like sharing his address, in case I wanted to help him… ‘move on’ a little more quickly?”

“Like Empathy Daemon Caelum? Talks too fast, little horns, almost too-sweet Caelum?”

“Oh, nothing special, I just want to see if I can send Vega into orbit around his namesake.”

“But you don’t mind sucking hard?”

“I’ve tasted every kind of ecstasy that the people of this world can experience, but yours is the one that sets my heart on fire.”

“I know feelings. Even the ones I haven’t given myself a chance to feel. I love you. I have loved you. Tried to show it in the ways I knew how, even before I could admit the words to myself. I love you.”

“Oh come on, do-able can be a form of praise.”

“Maybe I don’t care who hears. As long as I get to.”

“When I’m with you, I feel like I’m home. More than that actually. Being with you changes what home means.”

“Oh no! Oh I just realized something, Deviant! I’ve never had to whisk a combination of egg yolks, water, oil, and vanilla before! I guess you’ll have to show me how, by coming up behind me, wrapping your arms around mine, and guiding my hands.”

“Well, as of this morning, the human population has decided to reverse their historical position and now defer to my judgment on what time it is. And I say it’s still bedtime.”

“Is this what they mean when they say relationships are about compromise? Pinning your partner in place until they agree, under duress, to carve out a few minutes of sleepy cuddling?”

“What an odd way to refer to Huxley.”

“You make me so very happy, Deviant. In ways I’d never given myself lease to imagine.”

“You are sin given form, aren’t you? Looking up at me like that. Perfection.”

“Nothing will stop me from keeping you safe.”

“You’re my sky, Deviant. The space between my stars. What I feel for you… in a lifetime of sensing the emotions of others, I never imagined I could feel like this. This much. And I am so grateful for it. And for you.”

“Oh 7/11, I owe you so much.”

“I do have a more… chaste idea. I know, the shock may kill you.”

“It’s sweet, Damien. You’re allowed to be sweet.”

“Yes, I am bad. But I’m very good at it. And I’m yours, my love.”

“What? I’m not grinning, I’m not doing anything. I don’t know what you could mean by that Deviant.”

“Yes, it belongs to you, my love. However you want it. However you’d like it.”

“Who says I can’t study laying down with my eyes closed?”

“I’m allowed to whine. It suits me.”

“Put me where you want me.”

“Well I’m the tooth fairy, can’t you tell?”

“Your scent teasing my senses… If that’s weird, then what the hell do you call what we did last night?”

“You burn rapture through my body, until my vision hazes… and haloes and bends. Like liquid.”

“Your touch ignites my stars.”

“I don’t think you feel gross.”

“Not our fault we’re forever surrounded by a bunch of tyrannical Puritans.”

“I don’t know how well I can pass for a ‘bro’, but I’ll bravely soldier on in Huxley’s honor.”

“Yes, baby.”

“You changed my life. You change it every day. You make me better. And I love you more than human words can convey.”

“There’s no such thing as a perfect match, there is no form of a relationship that doesn’t come with disagreement and effort, but the feelings we hold for one another and the work that we put in for one another are enough to weather any storm. And that’s the difference.”

“And what greater crime is there than to disappoint a rat? Maybe Huxley is wearing off on me after all.”

“‘Adult Pink Fruit Monarch’costume, here I come.”

“Yours is a soul that makes the stars shine brighter. And you’re beautiful for it. Always.”

#and basically the entirety of Your Incubus Confesses His Feelings (Again) While You Sleep #redacted gavin #redacted audio #redacted asmr #redactedverse #bubbler’s top quotes

[auroragreenvale]

People Watching - JJ Maybank

They met in class for metaphysical philosophy, he tells his friends I like her ‘cause she’s so much smarter than me

OR How you and JJ met

Summary: A look into different points of JJ and reader's relationship inspired by People Watching by Conan Gray. 3k words

***

A/N: I loveee this song especially the opening verse and I always loved picturing the people that inspired it. The chapters wont follow the order of the lyrics. I hope y'all enjoy :)

***

“Dude look what is this shit?” He smacked the paper before holding it out to Pope. He took hold of it, looking over each class listed in his friend’s schedule for the upcoming year until he found the so-called “shit” JJ was referring to: Philosophy. Pope let out a chuckle the moment he registered the word and looked over at his friend, amused. “Pope, man this isn’t funny they must’ve messed up my schedule and shit! I can’t take this class, man!” Pope could only continue to laugh, catching Kiara’s attention. She grabbed the paper out of Pope’s hand and quickly displayed the same reaction as him. 

“Wow JJ I had no idea you were such a scholar! An intellectual if you will?”

“Shut up Kie!” JJ rolled his eyes as his friends’ laughter died down, ready to show a little sympathy. 

“Look JJ,” Pope started, “It really isn’t that big a deal. This stuff happens just go talk to the counselor and get it fixed, easy.”

“Yeah alright… gimme that,” JJ snatched back his class schedule before roughly folding it and putting it into his pocket. He’d probably remember to look at it again before the first day. Probably.

***

To JJ, school was the single biggest waste of his time. He sat through stupid classes all day, missing out on prime surfing time. And what’s worse, it’s not like he could smoke a joint in the middle of history, much less chat with any of his friends in English. He was just glad to have guaranteed easy classes that required close to nothing on his end. That and the knowledge that he didn’t have parents riding his case about his education or caring about his future allowed him to ignore the nuisance that was school once he left the building. But being put in philosophy did not work into his plan. Philosophy was for the smart people. Like Pope smart. Maybe even smarter and JJ definitely considered himself a lot less smart than Pope. JJ took the classes that were required of him and absolutely nothing else. The people who took philosophy probably finished half of their requirements in middle school and overloaded on classes with specific topics because they were actually interested in them. He shuddered at the thought of more school as he entered his next class. Seven students sat at the various desks, not even filling half of them. JJ thought maybe the rest of the class was running late but he thought it was weird that everyone there currently sat toward the front of the room. His other classes were always full and people had no issue sitting in the very back row even if the one closest to the teacher had yet to be filled. But JJ was a master at blending in of course and even though he planned to get out of this class by tomorrow, he could still have fun pretending to be one of the smart kids. He slid into the last empty seat in the second row, looking around and observing his temporary classmates. His brow furrowed in confusion when he noticed them all with faces in books or scribbling away in their notebooks. How were they doing work before the bell had even rung? He slid down slightly in his seat letting his head hang down in the direction of his empty desktop, hoping to divert attention away from himself so as not to blow his cover and ruin his little game. His hand came up to the side of his face, blocking it from the others in his row as he waited for the dreaded class to begin. 

“Hi!” The sound came from the desk next to him. He lowered his hand and looked over at the girl sitting there. “...I… haven’t seen you before, I’m Y/N.”

“Oh well… I typically take a lotta... math... classes so this is kinda… new for me,” he tested out.

“Oh me too! Maybe we’ll have some more classes together.” You smiled at him warmly.

“Mmm yeah maybe,” he smiled, amused at the possibility, “I’m JJ.”

“Nice to meet you. Glad to have you in class JJ.” Again he smiled, you reading it as politeness when he really was trying to hold back laughter. Finally the bell rang signaling the beginning of class and JJ realized no other students had entered the room. If the first bell took that long to sound, he knew it would take an eternity before the last one would sound, ending his philosophy career and his misery. 

***

“You’re kidding me what!? What do you mean there’s no other classes??” JJ yelled, ignoring that he was in the administrative office. 

“Please keep it down Mr. Maybank. What I mean is that all the other classes at that time are full so we can’t move you out of your current class.”

“Ughh! … Yall messed this up, you gotta fix it!”

“I’m sorry JJ but there’s nothing I can do.”

“Okay but you don’t understand I can’t spend the whole semester in this class its for like the genius kids! I can’t do that shit!”

“Mr. Maybank please watch your language. And as for these ‘genius kids’ I suggest you talk to one of them about tutoring you.” At that JJ threw his head back and groaned as he exited the office and made his way outside to join his friends for lunch. They immediately noticed his dramatic expression as he approached. 

“Whats up J,” Kiara asked slowly. 

“This bullshit! They said they can’t take me outta that stupid class!”

“Wait you mean philosophy? You have to stay in it all semester,” Pope asked. JJ nodded.

“And what’s worse they said I should get a fucking tutor! Like I’m gonna go outta my way and do more school when I’m not even at school,” JJ shook his head, “I think I’ll just go ahead and fail.”

“Hate to break it to you man but if you fail it they’ll probably make you retake it over the summer.”

“Pope dude are you serious?” He nodded. “Fuuuck.” Kiara patted his shoulder, looking amused.

“Well uh, guess you’re getting a tutor.”

***

JJ walked into his second day of philosophy and slumped down in the seat next to yours. Blowing out a breath, he reluctantly looked over at you, preparing to ask you the dreaded question. You gave him a small smile.

“So uh… do you like… tutor people ever? For a friend! He’s… he’s looking for a… tutor.” Your smile grew, knowing where this was going. 

“Oh yeah I do what does your, uh friend need tutoring in?”

“This class!-- Well not this… class but you know this subject.”

“Mmm okay well I’d be willing to be your friend’s study buddy, help ‘em out.”

“Okay cool cool.... Cool. That's real uh cool of you.” You giggled. 

“Cool,” you answered sarcastically. This made JJ laugh softly, dropping his charade.

“Yeah so uh… should we get crackin’ like today I-- I think that would… be good. And do we… me at… the library or…?”

“Um we could or we could just go to my place if that's better?”

“Okay yeah… yeah sure that's good I’ll uh, meet you after school?”

“Sounds good.” He mirrored the smile you gave him before you both turned to face the front of the class where the teacher stood.

***

“JJ come on, the final’s in two weeks you need to get some more work done on your paper so you can start reviewing in time.”

“But dude. This paper is so stupid I do not care about any of these old guys’ theories.”

“Okay but you know them, I know ‘cause I helped you learn them, so pick one and write something about it.” JJ groaned in his usual dramatic fashion making both of you laugh. You shoved him lightly, telling him to write which he eventually began to do. When you had finished up your own essay you turned your attention to what JJ had started writing. You read over the beginnings of his essay a couple of times.

“JJ! This is good. These ideas are really good!”

“Well don’t sound so surprised,” he joked.

“I just mean I figured you had nothing since you didn’t want to write it so bad. But this is good, keep going and we can polish it up.”

“For real?”

“Yeah I’m really proud of you.” It was a simple statement and you quickly turned your attention to work for your other classes. But JJ let his gaze linger on you for a few seconds longer, a small smile on his lips. No one had ever said they were proud of him before. At least not that he could remember and definitely not when it came to smart stuff like this. He felt his heart expand hearing those words and he wondered how it would feel to hear them again. And again. He hoped he might do something else deserving of someone’s pride again. It made him feel taken care of in the way he tries to take care of his friends and it felt good to be on the other side of that kind of affection. He turned his attention back to his work and for the first time in his education, felt some motivation.

“No listen John B she’s like, so smart it's like cool! She might even be smarter than Pope and he’s probably the smartest person I know.” In his modesty, Pope let out a loud laugh, thinking JJ must have pretty low standards for intelligence if he was on the smartest end. “Pope what the hell is funny man?” This made Kiara snicker as well. JJ’s friends were all amused at how serious he seemed to be about this, all seeing what he couldn’t.

“Uh, JJ it sounds like you might have a little crush,” John B said. 

“Shit,” JJ said, brushing off the notion. “Fuck,” he said more quietly in realization in disbelief. His friends continued their quiet giggling at his apparent predicament. 

“You gonna… you gonna ask her out or what? I mean you’ll only be in class together for another what, two weeks? And I doubt you’ll ever be in one of her classes again so,” Pope laughed. 

“Shut up man I could be, I'm doing pretty good.”

“I’m sorry could any of you imagine JJ dating this apparent genius girl,” Kiara laughed at the images it brought to her mind.

“Yeah I don’t know if she’d be down to date like a surfer dude,” John B changed his voice to mock his friend. 

“Or she’d be like studying or something and you’re all,” Kiara also took on a ridiculous voice, “‘Hey babe wanna hit,’” she mimicked blowing out smoke and took on a stoner persona that they all knew was incredibly far off from JJ. But they still found it funny.

“You guys are the fucking worst and I’m gonna ask her out and you’re all gona feel like idiots okay,” JJ said holding both of his middle fingers up for all of his still amused friends to see. 

“Just invite us to the wedding okay,” Kiara mocked, earning a shove from her friend as she fell out laughing. 

***

“Hey I wanna… say, ya know thanks for helping, uh my friend out with this class,” JJ said trying to bring you back to the beginning of the semester with this class. You closed your book figuring it was time for a break. You gave JJ a tired smile that was nonetheless bright. He almost rolled his eyes when he smiled back just as big remembering how his friends noticed his feelings before he did and hating them being right. 

“Well he was a pretty… okay study buddy,” you joked back. JJ let out a breathy laugh.

“Just okay?”

“Well you’re pretty easily distracted but you do keep it fun. So better than okay I guess. And you really impressed me this semester. You’re a lot smarter than you think.” When JJ recalls this moment he can only assume he blushed a bright pink at your genuine statement and the look in your eyes. Thinking about it, he still wants to melt in both embarrassment and somehow happiness. He quickly changed the subject.

“Gonna be weird not seein’ each other all the time huh?” He had really gotten used to seeing you everyday, enjoying the time he spent with you even if it was filled doing activities he didn’t so much enjoy. 

“Yeah.” You paused. “...No one in my classes is ever as,” you searched for the right word but couldn’t find it, “...fun as you.” 

“Well no one in my classes is ever so damn smart like you,” he replied, “But uh, I was wondering did you maybe wanna hang out sometime? Like no studying or anything?”

“Yeah I would, yeah. Let’s do that,” You smiled at him and then opened your textbook again, eyes going down to the words you knew you would no longer be able to focus on. 

***

JJ stood in front of the small bathroom mirror in the Chateau fluffing and fixing his hair over and over, indecisive. He wore his least dirty pair of boots and had borrowed one of John B’s less loud button down shirts. He topped it with a jacket. He felt a little weird but he hoped you’d think he looked nice in the clothes that were slightly nicer than what he typically wore to school. He smoothed back his hair one more time and ran his hand through it once. He settled on that. At least it was clean and dry, an improvement from the usual. He drove the Twinkie to your place, a very familiar route by now. When he arrived he paused in the driver's seat. Did he text you he was here or did he go up and knock? Was that what people did to pick up a friend or just dates? You hadn’t said this was a date. And what if one of your family members answered the door? He let out a breath and opened the car door before he could stop himself. He walked up to the door and knocked. He waited almost a moment too long, beginning to contemplate going back to the car and texting you when you opened the door grinning. You were actually really excited to hang out with JJ and get to know him more without homework and studying. You had enjoyed his company over the semester. JJ smiled and felt relief when you appeared and then suddenly felt self conscious. You looked exactly like yourself and he was wearing someone else's clothes. So fucking stupid. He tried to push it out of his mind as you greeted each other and he walked you to the Twinkie. As you both almost arrived at the driver's side of the car, he had the idea to open your door for you. He stopped awkwardly and abruptly, confusing you, as he changed direction to go around the front of the van. He opened the door for you and you got in thanking him. You showed little confusion, just a small smile, as you were used to his odd actions at this point. JJ got in the car, turned up the music and began driving. He felt nervous as shit. He spent the entire semester with you and now you were causing him to act like an idiot. And this wasn’t even a date! What was wrong with him? He clutched the top of the steering wheel and glanced over at you quickly before he started speaking.

“So uh I was thinking we could maybe get some food over at The Wreck? That… that cool?”

“Yeah that sounds good,” you responded. JJ didn’t really love the idea of going to the place Kie’s parents owned and she worked there. He’d be surprised if he didn’t see his dumbass best friends there trying to spy on his date. If they all weren’t, Kie would definitely be working there, and have prime position to embarrass him. But she did offer to cover half the bill and it was a hot spot. JJ figured it would look good and maybe earn him another date. Or a first real one actually. God he just hoped he wouldn't blow it. Another date with you, even if only one more sounded like a great deal to JJ, and he needed to do everything possible to make it happen.

***

You sat in the passenger seat of the van that JJ had informed you was called the Twinkie. The conversation lulled as he drove the car up to your house and in that moment of silence, realization dawned on you. Your brows scrunched as you tried to make sense of the thought that had appeared in your mind. JJput the car in park and you turned to him before he could say anything. You took a breath. 

“JJ? Was this a date?” You asked it with hesitation but more confidence than you expected to come through your words. JJ turned to you, caught off guard, but quickly painted on his signature playful smirk.

“Did you want it to be,” he asks. You almost rolled your eyes. 

“JJ,” you repeated more sternly this time. You really wanted to know his answer. “Was this a date?” His face softened and his expression changed from the confident boy most knew well to almost bashful. You decided you liked that look on him.

“I was kinda hoping it could be.” He looked up at you at the end of his statement and mustering all of his confidence leaned in. It happened quickly. He touched his lips briefly to yours in a soft kiss. It was so delicate that it stole your breath, making you dizzy. He pulled away before you could even process that moment. He looked at you, eyes closed and bottom lip between your teeth to suppress a smile. You took a deep breath in. 

“Definitely a date then.” You opened your eyes slowly.

“That cool with you,” JJ asked, growing nervous. You nodded flashing that smile that JJ already found intoxicating. 

“I’m hoping you can… take me on another one?”

“Yeah of course.”

“Okay,” you said. You leaned over quickly, mirroring his actions, and placed a kiss on his cheek. Just as quickly, you exited the car with one more look back at the boy. With your back to him as you unlocked your door, he let out a cheer before speeding off. You smiled to yourself as you entered your house and JJ grinned his whole way home.

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x you #jj maybank imagines #obx imagine #outer banks #outer banks imagine #jj maybank imagine #people watching #auroragreenvale #pplw

[midnightfrappe]

FNAF MOVIE THEORY AND RAMBLING (spoilers with some images and quotes)

Okay so, idk where to start but i'll try to make everything that i say connect, starting with Garrett, Mike's lost brother.

We see the exact moment he was taken, just playing around and the next second he was in a car that was driving off. But there was no screaming, not even a scared face from Garrett, this is a kid who's not sure why his brother is chasing the car with so much fear.

We obviously know at the end of the movie that William was the one that did it, but there was never an explanation of why. He did say ''First i killed your brother. Now i'll kill you'', but how did he know about Mike's brother? It could be Vanessa that told him about Mike's brother, but there was something off about William since the beginning of the movie, before Vanessa even knew Mike.

Mike is searching for a job and ''Steve'' is looking thru his records and saying he's trying to figure out who he is. Well, that's exactly what he does when he reads his name. He quickly looks up to him in a shocked way, even getting a closer look at Mike like he was trying to recognize his face which he probably does because he starts acting weird and nervous, then he is very insisting on giving him the job that he knows will surely kill him.

But then again, how does he know Mike and Garrett? The name Schmit could be one of the reasons and just looking at Mike's face is a confirmation. Now this is where i start with my theory.

Garrett was taken just like Charlie in the games, no one was looking and then a car just passed by to use that opportunity, making them the first victims in the movie and games respectively.

Now, that gives the possibility that Garrett's father was somehow connected to William, perhaps as a friend or coworker, because why would William go to a place as far away as the woods just to kidnap and kill a random child if the pizzeria was the safest option? He had a reason to target his friend's son, I can't think of one rn, but that could mean Garrett's dad takes the rol of Henry. Explaining why William recognizes Mike, he was the older son of his friend, the brother of his first victim.

As a bonus, that could explain why Garret didn't scream or looked scared and everything happened so fast. He just saw a familiar face, someone his dad knew and wasn't really a stranger.

William says to Mike at the end ''You couldn't just leave it alone, could you?'', he knows what he did and thinks Mike was trying to go after him (i mean, he was looking for him thru his dreams, but something tells me William thinks he was searching for him irl, that's why he's shocked when he sees him right in his office, the thinks Mike finally found him but my guy was just trying to look for a job lmao).

Now getting a little crazier, in the credits we hear some words that say ''COME FIND ME'', who do we need to find? the children? We already know where they are. William? Let that mf be trapped where he is. The only one we don't know where it ended up was Garrett, but where is he? Maybe that music box at the end is an indication that Puppet is present, and the possibility of having some things related to the games could mean that Garrett may or may not be related to the puppet. (Coffcoff Garret being the Puppet just like Charlie).

Now for some silly stuff: I really think this is an AU where William and Henry swap children, Henry has 3 and William only has one. Of course William would have a normal life after killing kids and ruining Henry's life, he doesn't have to worry about his children killing each other, he just takes care of one who can be easily manipulated and lives a normal life as a career counselor. Giving his trophy (the pizzeria) people who can keep it safe.

Meanwhile Henry's family suffers just like the game but with extra steps, but I also think that Mike and Garret having a good relationship is proof of good parenting, not like the games where Mike bullies his little brother and William doesn't give a fuck about them or Elizabeth. That's also my opinion that the movies could work without the bite of '83 or even sister location, all of that could be avoided with a loving family.

The family Michael Afton and his brothers needed, the one that they deserved.

''This isn't how it happend. This isn't real.''

#five nights at freddy's #fnaf movie #fnaf #fnaf spoilers #fnaf movie spoilers #william afton #michael afton #vanessa afton #michael schmidt #fnaf mike #fnaf abby #fnaf garrett #midnight rambles #don't mind me #i'm just being silly! :3 #i think i talked more at the end about the games and the fact it's a silly AU where Henry suffers more

[moralesmilesanhour]

mad props! 02

summary: Miles catches onto your antics. wc: ~800 a/n: some advanced haterism going on here. this has gotten increasingly fun to write as the plot ramps up! pls don't be scared 2 leave any reactions or thoughts in the comments + tags :) 01 02 03

From then on, you made it a point to ignore Miles during partner work and punctuate it with an eye roll. He tucked his head back in surprise the first time you did it, and you felt like you’d just won a prize.

…That is, until he ignored you back. 

Eventually, Miles just turned to the person in the next column to ask for a pen instead, seeming perfectly content with working on his own.

It should've been a relief.

Today, Mr. Sanchez handed out worksheets to write a short composition on, and you struggled to recall the correct word for ‘kitchen’. All of your attempts to remember the pictures at the back of your flashcards came to nothing, finally forcing you to turn around and ask with a heavy sigh.

"Um, hey," you began, wincing at the softness of your voice. "What’s ‘kitchen’ in Spanish? You remember?"

Miles looked at you with only his eyes. " ‘Cocina’."

No puns, no off-hand comment. Not even an offer to help further. He just quietly returned to his work. 

Your plan was already falling apart now that he no longer initiated conversations for you to brush off, so you went with the next best thing: competing with him.

“Who was able to solve for the trajectory of–oh!”

The AP Physics instructor pushed back a strand of red hair as she glanced between you and Miles, whose hands had shot up at the same time.

“Let’s go with someone who hasn’t spoken yet. Ms. L/N?”

You smiled as you answered, “24.7 meters per second.”

“Excellent job, Y/N, and thank you for participating today. Now, would anyone else…”

As the woman called on other students, a strategy began to take shape. 

It wasn’t hard to tell when Miles was about to raise his hand. His eyes would go wide, with a tiny smile that said he was certain that no one else could get this question right but him. His hand went up so fast that you had to answer before the teacher could even finish their question, but it worked. And it got you a few extra points for participation.

“Now, who can tell me what makes the film ‘Romeo + Juliet’ so unique?” asked the English professor.

Miles raised his hand. “It takes the original play and reinterprets aspects of the original plot for modern audiences.”

As soon as he answered, his eyes flickered towards you almost as if on cue. Sure enough, your hand flew up.

“Y/N, what a surprise! Care to add on?”

“Of course. The director, Baz Luhrmann,” you met Miles’ gaze as you specified the name, “used his over-the-top cinematic style of directing to bring the drama of the original play to life in a contemporary context. He replaced the swords with guns and balls for parties, but kept the dialogue the same so that audiences could better understand Shakespeare without needing to grapple with the work of translating Shakespearean English into modern English. He found a way to make the play accessible without compromising on the text.”

Miles narrowed his eyes at you while the stocky teacher made a noise of approval.

“Very succinct explanations, you two. I’m very impressed with you especially, Miss L/N. I hope to hear your voice more often in class.”

You noticed Miles still glaring, and rested your chin in the palm of your hand.

In a sickly-sweet tone, you whispered, “What?” 

He shook his head and turned away.

-

“Alright, make sure you go home and memorize those formulas! See you Wednesday!”

You neatly stacked your papers and slid them carefully into one of your labeled folders as the bell rang, marking the end of your last class.

The hallway bustled with students rushing like bees to their lockers. On the way to your own, a pop of color catches your eye. 

It’s a bulletin board filled with sign-ups for a number of clubs, from cheerleading to student government to debate. Remembering your college counselor’s comment about your extracurriculars “looking a bit empty”, you drew closer. Might as well, right?

You didn’t have the stamina for cheerleading, but speech and debate looked promising. Just as you took out a pen to sign your name, though, you stopped short and frowned.

At the very bottom of the list read the name ‘Miles Morales’ written with a neon highlighter. 

Then again on the art club’s flier. And anime club. And music engineering. 

‘Miles Morales’.

‘Miles Morales’.

‘Miles Morales’.

Guess you weren’t the only one who needed to beef up their transcript.

“Show-off,” you muttered to yourself. 

Just as you were about to lose hope, there was one other club that Miles hadn’t signed up for, hanging precariously off of the edge of the board from a single thumbtack:

Theater. 

And auditions were the very next day.

#miles morales fic #miles morales x reader #miles morales x black!reader #miles morales x fem!reader #earth 1610 miles morales x reader #moralesanhour

[little-annie]

In This Lifetime

---

Vecna's dead and the gates are closed and life is finally back to normal.

Well except for one thing.

Eddie's entire view of Steve Harrington has been tipped on its axis, shattered, booted off a fucking cliff. Whatever you want to call it. Because, well, the guy's not an asshole. He's strong and passionate and so goddamn caring. He's probably the kindest, most giving person Eddie's ever met and although he'd like to say he doesn't know what to think of it, we'll he does. And he thinks he's in love.

Steve Harrington is like fucking sunshine and unfortunately for Eddie's fragile heart, that glow of light doesn't fade.

They become friends. Best Friends. Nearly inseparable. Attached at the hip throughout the years.

They move to Chicago together, rent a shitty two bedroom apartment that maybe as well be one because they still have nightmares and being plastered next to one another seems to calm those terrors.

They laugh and they sing and they dance around the kitchen while they smile and cook and inevitably burn whatever meal they had planned, opting to order pizza instead.

Eddie's in a band and Steve never misses a show.

Steve's in school, planning to become a Guidance Counselor and Eddie's by his side quizzing him with the reward of candy in hand.

It's perfect, living life together in domestic bliss. Even if all they are is only just friends.

But it's still perfect all the same and if it was up to Eddie, he'd spend the rest of his life in these years. Repeat them again and again, if only to fall asleep at Steve's side and wake up to honey-brown eyes every morning.

But he knows it can't always be like this and that's why this is the hardest thing he's ever done.

This is the hardest thing he's ever done, and he's done some difficult shit. Like surviving a near death experience in literal hell being the main contender. But sitting across from Steve Harrington as he turns a little golden ring between his fingers and goes over his proposal plan, yeah that's pretty fucking difficult.

And it shouldn't be, he should be excited, he should be cheering for his friend but there's a gnawing feeling in his gut that's telling him it should be him. It should be him that Steve drops to a knee for, it should be him that Steve professes his undying love to, it should be him that'll one day get to call this man his husband.

But it's not. It's not because even though he's known this ragtag group of monster hunters for years now he's never been able to come to terms with telling them that he's gay and he sure as shit hasn't come to terms with telling Steve Harrington that he loves him and loves him in a very much not 'just friends' kind of way.

So that's why when Steve asks him what he should say to this woman [Becky, who quite frankly could double as Eddie's twin] he spills the beans. In a very subtle way he supposes. He doesn't come out, doesn't outright tell Steve he loves him, but as he's telling Steve what to say to his future fiancé, he's letting his emotions come out like word vomit, only wishing Steve knew he was talking about him.

"I don't know man." Eddie huffs, shuffling uncomfortably in his chair, eyes avoiding Steve's as he contemplates his words.

But it's hardly more than a few seconds before they come tumbling out, Eddie sucking in shaky breath before he stares into the carpet and begins to speak, "Tell her she's like sunshine, beautiful and bold and the source of life. That she's like the blood in your veins, forever present in the most beautiful way and the only thing that keeps your heart beating. Tell her that even on the most difficult days that she's the one you want to see, the one you want to hold, the one that makes you take the breath you need and steady your heart when it's beating out of control."

It's a building thing, slowly growing out of control, he can feel his pulse thrumming in his veins and he's beginning to think he might just do something crazy. He pauses for a moment, gauging Steve's expression. He'd gone to get them beer and hasn't bothered to sit back down since Eddie began talking. There's an indecipherable expression on his face and he's stood still, in front of the couch, beers on the coffee table and he's silent, waiting for Eddie to continue.

And you know, if Eddie was a normal man he'd stay in his chair, talk to his friend from an acceptable distance away and not profess his love, but he's not. He's a showman and as his acting skills get the best of him, he's moving, shuffling across the carpet, taking Steve's hand in his own and kneeling before him. Because why not make this a harder interaction for himself. Christ, it nearly feels like the real thing as he looks into Steve's eyes and shuffles the littlest amount closer.

Eddie shudders a breath, taking a single second to appreciate this moment, even if it'll never truly be real and then he continues, "You get down on your goddamn knee Steve Harrington and you say, ' Sweetheart you're the only thing that keeps me alive in this crazy fucked up world. Having you in my arms and my heart keeps me steady and breathing. I've been through some shit, but I'd go through it all again to find you in the end. The blood, the sweat, the tears, nearly fucking dying to be by your side for the rest of my life. I want to grow old with you Darling, I want us to grey and weather together. To find ourselves fifty years from now watching our kids and our grandkids; all the life we've brought into this world. All the love our life together has brought into existence."

Eddie's crying now, because of course he is, he's confessing his love to someone he knows will never hold the same emotions for him, but through a watery laugh and a sniffle he carries on, tightening his grip on Steve's hands.

"I want you in this lifetime and the next, in any way that you'll have me. I can't bear the thought of a single day without you let alone an entire lifetime. I'll find you, I promise I will Sweetheart, but for this lifetime, I ask that you spend the remainder of it with me."

It's cheesy, he knows, but it seems to take effect because as he looks into the eyes of the man above him he sees the swell of tears gathering along thick dark lashes.

The room's suddenly silent, save for the pounding of Eddie's pulse in his ears and the hope that Steve didn't see through his actions or words. That all he saw was his rather expressive friend acting out as per usual.

But a tear finally escapes and rolls down Steve's tanned cheek and a rather aggressive sob breaks past his lips.

Eddie's to his feet in seconds pulling Steve to his chest, one arm firmly around his waist while another wraps around his shoulders and cradles a head of mousy hair as close as he can. Steve's sobbing, short shaky breaths and surely there's snot and tears staining Eddie's shirt, but it's not like he can say much, what with silent tears streaming down his own cheeks and dripping to Steve's hair.

Steve hiccups around a sob, voice shaky and muffled against Eddie's shoulder, "I can't do this."

God, that's not what Eddie wanted to do, he didn't mean to scare Steve away from his impending engagement. No matter how much he wished it was him. He loves Steve, but if he can't have him, he just wants him to be happy. He deserves happiness. He deserves love.

Even if it's not with him.

Eddie cards his fingers soothingly through Steve's hair as he speaks, "Yes you can. I know you can. Steve, you love her, you're just scared. You can do this."

Another sob heaves against Eddie's chest while Steve continues to shake in his arms, "I can't Eddie."

"Why not Sweetheart?"

Steve's knees give out as a pained nose escapes his throat, dropping to the floor, taking Eddie with him, he doesn't answer, only continues to cry and burrow into Eddie's chest upon settling into their new position on the ground.

He's verging on a panic attack, Eddie knows this, he's seen it many times before. The way Steve's fists clench in his shirt and his breaths are short and sudden, gasping for air that's not filling his lungs, he's flushed white and Eddie knows it's only a matter of time before he gets sick.

"Stevie, come on, you gotta settle down. I'm sorry if I said anything wrong, I didn't mean to if I did. We can talk about it later. But right now you just gotta breathe for me okay." Eddie grabs Steve's hand, tight fist and all and holds it against his chest, allowing Steve to feel his steady breaths, "Breathe in with me, come on Big Guy. Take a deep breath in." Eddie takes a large lungful and holds it for a second, waiting for Steve to do the same and even though it's shaky and raspy he manages.

They repeat this process ten times over, Steve's head and hand now resting against Eddie's chest, their backs to the couch, the rooms fallen silent enough that only muffled sniffles are audible aside from the hum of electricity and the joyous screams of children outside.

After a moment, Steve wiggles himself closer, if even possible and again states, "Eddie, I can't do this."

He's not quite sure how to answer, really. Should he push or should he allow Steve to call off the engagement before it even happens. Lord knows where his own wishes lie. "You wanna tell me why you think you can't do this?"

Steve's breathing picks up again, but before he can reach hysterics Eddie's fingers card through his hair and he soothes Steve back to baseline.

"You," Steve whispers after quite some time of Eddie waiting for a response. It's a quiet thing, Eddie wouldn't have even heard it if he wasn't intentionally listening for Steve to say something.

It's a pain in the chest to know he may be the reason for Steve not to propose, sure he wished it wouldn't happen, but not like this. For him to say something so stupid that makes Steve call the whole thing off, "I'm sorry if I-"

He doesn't have time to finish his sentence before Steve's speaking, "No, not like that, you have nothing to be sorry for Eds. Its just- fuck- I wish I could tell you."

Combing his fingers through Steve's hair, Eddie reassures, "Steve, you can tell me. Please. I want to help."

Steve shakes his head, wrapping an arm tight around Eddie's waist, tucking his head in close, "It's nothing you can help with Eddie."

Nosing against the side of Steve's head, hair tickling his nose, Eddie whispers, soft, gentle, scared to frighten Steve off, "Try me."

And then it's silent. Dead quiet and for quite a long while. He knows Steve will answer, he knows he's just gathering his words, sorting things out before he speaks. It's obviously something big, something important to have warranted such a reaction from such a strong man.

It's with a sudden movement that Steve's sitting upright, turning to face Eddie with the appearance of confidence and sheer fear on his face. He looks fucking terrified. Working his jaw, eyes darting all over Eddie's face before he finally settles on his eyes and speaks, "I love you, okay." The words are far from gentle, they're sharp, rushed, sudden, like if he didn't get them out they'd burn a hole in his throat, but before Eddie has a second to even process those few words, Steve's barreling on.

"And when you were down on your knee infront of me, I wanted nothing more than for that to be the real thing, for those words to actually be directed towards me because I love you so fucking much it hurts. And I get it, I do. I know you're straight and we can never be a thing or really even get married but Eds, fuck, I love you so much and I can't marry Becky knowing I feel that way about you. I was going to try because I knew this could ne-"

He knows what Steve was meaning to say, but Eddie had to cut him off before those words could be spoken into existence because they're wrong. It can happen. Holy fucking Christ, Steve's loves him. It can all happen.

"I love you too," he says with such haste, taking Steve's face into his hands as he speaks with so much passion it nearly hurts, "-so much."

Cheeks squished in Eddie's grasp, Steve's eyes begin to well with tears once again, but now, now a smile is fighting its way to his lips, only growing with utter disbelief as Eddie quietly says, "and I meant every word of it. Every fucking word Sweetheart."

Steve's eyes search Eddie's own for only half a second before their lips crash together. It's a feverish thing, years of pent up love and need crammed into a single embrace, but their lips move as if they've met a million times before. And maybe they have. Maybe through the thousands of years this little rock in space has been turning, they've never left one another's side. Maybe they do find each other in every lifetime. Maybe they fall in love against all odds. Maybe this lifetime is no different.

Many Years Later

Turns out, it's not different at all.

When the time comes, so does the real proposal. It's been planned for years and when word of legalisation reaches Eddie's ears he's running to Steve. Dashing through streets, shouldering past strangers and dropping with a painful thud to the hardwood of Steve's office floor. In those few short moments to follow, the life he wished to have so many years ago becomes a reality.

Steve's his fiancé.

Soon to be his husband.

In this lifetime and the next.

---

#eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #steddie fic rec #steddie fanfiction #steddie headcanon #steddie fic #steddie fandom #steddie ficlet #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #steve x eddie #eddie x steve

[glorf1ndel]

Glorestor please!!! (silm blog @mae-it-be-an-evening-dhros)

Your ask inspired me to write the first chapter of a Glorestor fic! Hope you enjoy. :D Also on Ao3 here!

Darling (800 words, Glorestor)

“Who’s the cutest little thing of all time?”

Not again, Erestor thought. The counselor was standing in the corridor outside Elrond’s office, talking to Lindir about Second Age musicians, but at the sound of Glorfindel’s voice, he pursed his lips in annoyance. Over the past few weeks, the captain had become overly flirtatious with the counselor. It was almost as if he knew about Erestor’s interest in him; after all, who in Imladris hadn’t fallen in love with the golden-haired hero of Gondolin? But no, Erestor kept a tight lid on his feelings. Still, Glorfindel would take every opportunity to mess with him, whether they were alone or in public. Random touches, winking, even the occasional whisper in Erestor’s ear. And the worst part of it all? The pet names. Quite frankly, being called cutie or sweetheart was becoming unbearable.

Erestor whirled around, prepared to tell the captain off–

“I’ve had enough of this nonsense, Glorfindel–“

Only to find himself facing, yes, Glorfindel, but also… A cat? A kitten, actually. The captain had crouched down and was petting the small, furry creature, his gaze filled with adoration. Upon hearing the counselor, he looked up and smiled.

“Erestor! Come see who I found!” Glorfindel picked up the kitten, then rose to his feet. “Aren’t you the sweetest, most lovely baby?” He cooed.

Erestor hesitated, his words catching in his throat.

“Oh, Eru, you thought he was talking to you?” Lindir whispered.

“Shut up, Lindir!”

“Come here,” Glorfindel called again.

Erestor took a deep breath and walked over. Thankfully, Lindir did not follow, but his laughter echoed down the corridor. At least Glorfindel seemed to not have heard the minstrel’s teasing, or that would have been the end of Erestor.

“I just found this kitten wandering the corridors.”

Shaking off his nerves, Erestor took a good look at the kitten, which had settled comfortably in Glorfindel’s arms. A girl, he acknowledged. The kitten had long, black hair and blue eyes that were slowly closing as she fell asleep.

“I think I’m going to keep her. What should her name be?”

“She probably belongs to someone, Glorfindel.”

“Well, I suppose I can ask around. But if nobody says anything, she’s mine.”

“All right.” Erestor said with a shrug. “I don’t know how you have time to take care of a cat.”

“They’re not very high maintenance. I had one back in Gondolin; his name was Sunnybell. He was always wandering around the grounds, doing what he pleased.”

Erestor smiled slightly. Whenever Glorfindel talked about his time in Gondolin before the city’s fall, it was with a fondness that lit up his face. Even Erestor could not deny that seeing Glorfindel smile was a pleasant thing.

“Well, I hope you can come up with a better name for this one than Sunnybell.”

“Now that I’m thinking about it,” Glorfindel mused, “she kind of looks like you. With the black hair and blue eyes.” He stroked the kitten’s fur gently. “Maybe I’ll name you Erestor.”

“Absolutely not. Besides, Erestor is not a name for a female cat.”

“Erestorellë, then.”

“Glorfindel, I am vetoing your giving that cat any version of my name.”

“Aww, but wouldn’t you want the most adorable sweetheart in the world to be called Erestor?”

He snorted and crossed his arms. The words left his mouth immediately:

“From all the ridiculous things you’ve been saying lately, I thought I already was.”

Glorfindel stilled. Slowly, his gaze crept up from the kitten to Erestor. That was when Erestor realized he’d made a mistake, because the look in Glorfindel’s eyes was amused, yes, but more than that, it was knowing.

“Erestor, are you jealous of this cat?”

“What?” He hissed, fighting to keep himself from blushing. “Don’t be daft.”

Glorfindel shook his head, his blond curls swirling around his shoulders. The sudden movement made the kitten stir, and she started playing with Glorfindel’s hair. Oh, to be in Glorfindel’s arms, Erestor thought, like a fool.

“You are!” Glorfindel insisted. “You don’t want me to call this kitten cute, or sweet, or lovely, because you want to be the only one I call those things.”

“What I want is to wipe that smug look off your face.”

“With your lips.”

“You are a horrible Elf,” Erestor said, because how in Middle Earth was he supposed to respond to that? “Stop teasing me. And don’t give this cat my name.”

Glorfindel only shrugged, which gave Erestor an opening to walk away. He swiveled on his heel, prepared to flee the scene. Of course, Glorfindel chose that very moment to call out,

“If you say so, darling!”

Keep walking, Erestor told himself, even as Glorfindel’s laughter made his heart ache. He would have to spend less time around the captain, especially now that Glorfindel had found the kitten. It would not do to get used to this.

#lotr #lord of the rings #silm #silmarillion #glorestor #glorfindel #erestor #lindir #tolkien #tolkien fic #lotr fanfic #silm fic

[maple-the-awesome]

We'll Meet Again...I Know When || Chapter 33

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x GN Reader

Words: 3,712

Overview: Given your old-fashioned personality and obsession with all things 1940s to 1980s, it’s no wonder that most people refer to you as an ‘old soul’ who would’ve rather lived back then than in the modern era. Little do they know, you already did, but with your previous life as Hollie Stark cut short, you’ve been left with some…unfinished business, to say the least. Top of your list? Finally getting to marry your thought-to-be-lost fiancé.

Series Masterlist 🤎 Marvel Masterlist 🤎 Fandom Masterlist

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE: SILENT TREATMENT

"You could at least try to be civil, you know."

Rolling his eyes is the only attention Bucky spares Sam, not that it helps his own case any. His lack of response and attempt at still pushing past the other man actually has the opposite effect, only adding fuel to the latter's annoyance which has been building ever since Madripoor.

Sam forces Bucky to stop against his outreached hand, "Are you really that upset over the whole Hollie thing to be acting like this?"

It's no surprise that he eventually found out about your 'little' argument back in Madripoor; it was pretty damn easy to put the pieces together after your sudden disinterest in confronting Nagel and Bucky's beyond sour mood. Clearly, he said something to piss you off during Sharon's party - likely even hurt you judging on the redness of your eyes Sam spotted this morning.

Bucky's shameless avoidance of you has already been picking at his nerves, although he can no longer stand turning a blind-eye to it. It's unwarranted, out of character, and above all childish - at least that's what he feels like saying right now, but he realizes anger won't solve anything, especially if coming from his mouth.

Maybe if Steve were here, expressing disappointment would cut deep enough to reach common sense, however Sam isn't Steve. He lacks any meaningful, nostalgic history to fall back on with Bucky or you, therefore any accusations on his part are more than likely to just be met with defensive responses. Instead, he needs to try the friendly approach.

Inhaling away his exasperation, he looks to Bucky with genuine concern, "...Alright,look: I don't understand what it's like to be in your guys' situation and I'm not going to pretend that I do, but obviously this game of giving the silent treatment is hurting both of you - you're hurting them...You can see that, right?"

Bucky dodges Sam's stare, hating the reminder his words serve as. Of course he knows your previous argument hurt you! He isn't stupid! ...Okay, maybe just a bit, but it's not like he meant to make you feel shitty back there! He just didn't want you in harm's way - not over something like the super soldier serum and not while in Madripoor.

Yes, there were better ways he could've asked you to stay behind. He fumbled the bag, and he wishes he could apologize for it - to clear things up so that you can, at the very least, be spared from taking any blame regarding this entire hole he's now dug under you both - however what's he exactly supposed to say? Is there even a nice way to cushion what he's truly thinking inside? What good would an apology be if it's promptly followed by telling the receiver he still doesn't want to be around them anymore?

"I know it's going to sound cliché and probably like some bullshit your counselor has already tried throwing at you, but I think if you could just sit down and talk to each other about how your feeling - be honest and get everything off your chest - it might -"

"- This doesn't involve you," Despite Sam's careful efforts, his interference only adds fuel to Bucky's internal fire exactly as he had tried to avoid. The super soldier easily shoves past his hand and stubbornly ascends the stairs, "The Dora Milaje want Zemo. I managed to buy us some time, but they're not going to wait forever."

"You're changing the subject -"

"- To something that matters. The fate of the world is at hand, Sam. Don't you think you should be more concerned with that than with me?" Bucky responds condescendingly, not allowing for any more objections before they're inside the safe house.

Not much has apparently happened in their absences. It didn't take Zemo long to get comfortable, having treated himself to a nice shower in the time that it took for Bucky and Sam to make their entrance. While the former goes to plop down on the couch alone, the latter joins you in the kitchen where, having been left unsupervised, you've taken the liberty of raiding each cupboard in search of the most expensive alcohol present.

"Wanna glass? Mendis Coconut Brandy~ Made from the nectar of a borassus flower then matured for ten years in wood casks," You make a show out of pouring yourself a generous amount, however your 'tempting' offer goes denied by Sam who takes a seat at the bar counter with a lack of amusement written all over his face.

"We need to figure out another plan of action. Not just sit here lounging around while getting drunk."

"This is how I get my neurons firing," You assert before shamelessly taking a long swig of your loot.

Aware of how difficult it would be to take alcohol away from a Stark, Sam elects to ignore your behavior in favor of getting on with business anyway, "Nagel was our best lead before someone killed him."

"Must we litigate what may or may not have happened?"

"It's not up for debate. You straight shot the man!"

"Might want to come up with that plan faster," You interrupt. With your brandy glass balanced in one hand and your phone in the other, you scroll through the latest relevant newsfeed, "Our little superhuman buddies just bombed a GRC supply depot."

"What?" Sam whips his attention back to you immediately, then asks more solemnly, "...What's the damage?"

"Three dead. Eleven injured; doesn't list conditions, but judging on these pictures, I wouldn't be too optimistic...They made some demands, plus a promise for more attacks if they aren't met."

"She's getting worse," Zemo points out rather nonchalantly while sauntering over, "Now I, for one, am still willing to see our efforts through. Are you?"

"She's just a kid..." Sam sighs with a shake of his head, yet this information falls short of presenting a proper argument.

"You're looking for something in her that isn't there and you're allowing it cloud your judgment. Karli Morgenthau is a supremacist," Zemo's quick to chastise, "You see, the very concept of a super soldier will always lead to trouble. It's that warped aspiration towards one's goals that led to the Nazis, to Ultron, to the Avengers -"

"- Hey, you're talking about our friends."

"The Avengers, not the Nazis."

You roll your eyes after Bucky's needless correction. At least he's finally found the balls to leave his social isolation long enough to partake in the discussion at hand, however he still does so while maintaining his physical distance, collapsed on the couch with a deadpan expression that lacks any meaningful engagement.

"Yeah, Karli might be radicalized, but that doesn't mean there can't be a peaceful way to stop her," Sam counters, although Zemo once again lets these words roll off his shoulders, remaining stubborn to his own stance.

"The desire to become a superhuman cannot be separated from supremacist ideals. Anyone with that serum is inherently on that path. She will stop at nothing and, worse yet, she'll continue to escalate until you eventually kill her...Assuming, of course, that she doesn't kill you first, God forbid."

"Yourview of things is too black and white," This rebuttal is made to sound as if you're pointing out the blatantly obvious which is enforced by your lack of eye contact as you swirl your alcohol in a jaded fashion, "It's like I said on the flight to Madripoor: corruption is always a risk where power makes someone feel that they're invincible to typical consequences which is why you have to be careful who you grant that power to. Steve was chosen to become the original super soldier. Those abilities - They didn't change his heart. He wanted to protect innocent people from a war spiraling out of control and he did just that while staying true to his nature."

"In other words, the serum never corrupted Steve," Bucky concludes proudly, almost amused to see how Zemo's unknowingly poked the hornet's nest through his accusations.

Fortunately for him, you're being civil right now, all things considered. Bucky hasn't forgotten your true temper and the passion you hold towards your work. One wrong step on Zemo's part - one ill-worded insult regarding Project Rebirth or the achievements it set out to make - and there's no doubt in his mind that you'll have your hands on that Sokovian bastard faster than Sam can stop you. Is it bad that he wants to see that happen? At least watching Zemo get his well-earned broken nose might make him feel a little better after such a bitter past few days.

"Touché," Zemo admits, before selecting a cookie from the bowl in front of him and looking back to you with his next opposition, "But there has never quite been another Steve Rogers, has there?"

"Not with that attitude, there won't be," You scoff, finishing your brandy then giving him a pointed glare, "What I'm trying to get at is: to assume corruption will always be the case with superhumans will only ever shoot down the possibility of there being a variation. Karli might not listen to reason, or maybe she will - we can't be sure until we try - but treating her like a lost cause from the gates will only promise her to become the very enemy you're concerned with."

"Perhaps you have a point, however what happens if she already is a lost cause, hmm? Are you willing to take that chance in the time that it takes for you to confirm her intentions - even at the possible risk of your own life and those of the innocent?"

You cross your arms with your weight leaning to one side, "For one, I'm not saying that we just rush in to make friendship bracelets with them. We can attempt a conversation while still being cautious. Second, aren't you the guy who got a bunch of innocent people killed just so that he could get back at the Avengers? Are you really going to stand here acting like you live on some moral high ground?"

"Maybe we should just give him to the Wakandans now," Bucky suggests, suddenly acting exhausted with his spectator role in all of this. This leads you to redirect your glare his way, addressing him directly for the first time since Sharon's party.

"Excellent idea. Why don't you escort him there and stay awhile? Wakanda is where you were happiest, after all."

Bucky doesn't risk eye contact for long, swiftly looking away to avoid the sting felt by your response and that mocked smile you wear which drips sarcasm. This would be an amazing opportunity for him to be less of a jerk and deny your accusation. All he has to say is that he didn't actually like Wakanda that much, he doesn't even have to add that he didn't like it because it kept you two apart...yet he keeps his mouth shut instead of saying a single word. 

Sam, tired of all this clashing, promptly rounds the conversation back to more pressing matters, "Alright, let's just assume we have a consensus here and agree to talking with Karli. It sounds like Donya Madani was a pillar of the community here, right? ...You know, when I was a kid, my TT passed away -"

"- Your TT?"

"...Yeah, my TT."

"You're 'TT'?"

"His aunt," You sigh at the back-and-forth.

"Thank you! When I was a kid, my aunt passed away and the entire community got together for this ceremony to celebrate her life - I swear, it lasted like a full week. Maybe they're doing something similar for Donya."

"We can use it as an opportunity to get more information on the Flag Smashers. Maybe even get an audience with Karli herself," You finish his trail of thought, "She likely wouldn't want to make a scene in front of anyone connected to her, so it might be our best shot at a civil conversation without her trying to bash in our skulls."

"Exactly!" Sam smiles, looking back to Bucky who shrugs in response.

"...It's worth a shot."

"Your TT would be proud of you," Zemo, having used your distraction to sort through the cupboards, turns to Sam and tosses a wrapped candy his way before dumping the rest of the container on the counter in front of you, "Turkish Delights. Irresistible." 

Perhaps you've simply become biased after spending so many years in Europe, but you really must say, you admire the grand beauty behind European architecture even when worn down after many years of resident traffic. The buildings here in Latvia are no different in their ability to catch your eye, being much more deserving of your attention than the flashy neon lights that lined Madripoor.

Sadly, it seems your appreciation isn't universal. While you remain silent in your observations, Zemo is quick to voice his annoyance the moment your quartet steps foot in the courtyard of the refugee enclave, "Shame what's become of this place. When I was young, my family would come here for fabulous dinner parties. Although I knew nothing of politics back then, I recall it being beautiful. Now it is this..."

"I'm gonna take a look upstairs. See what you can find out down here - and keep an eye on him," Sam excuses himself almost immediately, not waiting for a reply before he's gone from sight. It's possible that he just wants a break from dealing with Zemo's nonsense, although he could also be trying to escape the tension between Bucky and you, too.

The first thing Sam did this morning was try questioning you on what happened at Sharon's party to which you simply replied that he should be asking Bucky instead. You weren't - and still aren't - in the mood to recap anyone else on your argument. You received basically zero sleep last night thinking about it, Bucky's words constantly playing on repeat in your mind:

"I think you should stay here while we go talk to Nagel ourselves."

"It wasn't a suggestion."

"...You're a liability if you go..."

Who does he think he is?! He's been making it perfectly clear since your confession that he wants absolutely nothing to do with you, but now he wants to play nanny - to act like he's oh-so concerned about your wellbeing? Pick a side, damnit! He either cares for you or he doesn't!

Just thinking about it gets you all riled up again, especially since you have yet to receive any kind of apology even after Sam confronted him, too - You know Sam must have because why else would he have waited outside for Bucky after reaching the safe house? Your theory could further be supported by their sulking that followed. Sam finally said something to Bucky himself, however even that had no success in making him grow the fuck up.

It seems your plan of giving Bucky space to process his feelings isn't working. Despite trying to keep your head low, you still manage to cause him grief while he insists on treating you like an asshole by playing this stupid back-and-forth game of 'do I, don't I'...Well, he's an adult, isn't he? You suppose he can make his own decisions on how to behave, but that doesn't mean you have to keep putting up with it yourself. Two can play at this game and you're done taking the nice route.

"I'll stay out of your way," Zemo promises, holding his hands up and taking a few steps away from you both. Whether he senses the tension as well or is simply being smart, you don't care.

You only bother to spare Bucky a glance - which is more of a less-than-amused glare that he mirrors - then turn your focus to the courtyard. There's lots of people going about their days here, none who show any of you much attention. If anything, it seems like they're trying to ignore your group between cautious glimpses; behavior that Bucky apparently fails to read as he walks right up to an older trio doing laundry. He attempts to awkwardly ask about Donya, yet as anyone could've predicted, they wordlessly turn their backs to him before gathering their belongings and walking off.

"Maybe if you actually smiled, you'd look more approachable," You make a point of noting smugly, all too satisfied to earn a frustrated grumble.

"Let's see you try then since you're such a people-person."

"I'm not a people-person. I just know how to work people," You hit back before eyeing the rest of the courtyard. There's more adults busying themselves with different projects, but chances are they're aware of the dangers outsiders might bring to their beliefs here, so it'll be harder to pry information out of them. Kids, however, have much smaller filters, and it just so happens that there's a young pair sitting alone at a fold-up table nearby. Perfect.

"Hey. May I see what you guys are drawing?" You ask kindly, inviting yourself to slowly take an open seat at the table with them. The little boy hesitates and looks to his sister who is equally wary of your presence, but he ultimately pushes his drawing towards you anyway. You gasp, gently turning it to get a good look, "Oh, this is beautiful! ...You drew this? ...You did? No way!"

The boy nods, his sheepish smile turning into a quiet giggle after your mocked disbelief.

"This is incredibly well detailed! It's a dog, right? ...Wow...You're waaay better at drawing than I am. I couldn't draw a dog to save my life. Whenever I try to, my nephew says it ends up looking more like a cow instead."

"Now that's someone who knows what they're doing," Zemo whispers to Bucky as they observe your efforts from afar. He isn't wrong. It doesn't take you many more compliments before the siblings are eagerly showing off each of their art pieces, even taking you up on your request for them to show you how to draw yourself.

To anyone else, it may seem like you're simply playing the long game, but Bucky can tell when your smile is genuine and when it isn't. Right now, it's definitely genuine. Just listen to the way you laugh at the siblings' jokes, and watch how your eyes sparkle in delight when triggered by their childish excitement. He imagines that this is what you were like when Tony was little...and what you would've been like had you had any children of your own. Maybe it isn't too late for you in that regard, yet that's quite the bittersweet pill to swallow.

Bucky finds himself inching closer to the table, his steps awkward and slow as if his feet are stuck in a giant glue trap. His presence immediately makes the siblings fall silent as they keep a fearful eye on him, however you're quick to reassure them with a careless shrug of your shoulders, "Oh, don't worry. That's just my friend, Bucky. I know he looks real scary, but he's harmless...Do you see his cool arm?"

"No?"

"Well, he'll have to come over here and show it to you then," You wave him over, smirking at his reluctance.

"I don't -!"

Not accepting that answer, you stand and take his wrist in hand before leading him the extra few steps over to the table. There, you pull him down to kneel between you and the curious children who watch in awe after you slide his glove off to reveal the bright shine underneath.

"- Isn't that awesome? I mean, how many people do you know who have a metal arm like this, huh?"

Bucky keeps as steady as humanly possible, practically suffocating himself out of concern that one wrong move on his part will send these children off screaming. Pressing his lips together nervously, he watches like a hawk as they gather closer and brush their little fingers against the cold metal of his forearm with bouts of excited giggles. You, meanwhile, keep his hand in yours while eventually locking eyes, your smirk remaining as if to say 'this isn't so bad, now is it?'.

"Hisarm makes him really strong. He can lift a whole lot of cool stuff with it...Just like our friend Karli. Do you know her, too?" The siblings nod, too distracted by Bucky's arm to face you, "That's actually why we're here. We came to town for Miss. Donya's funeral, but we've gotten a little lost...Maybe you two could help us? Do you know where it's going to be?"

They consider your question while glancing between both Bucky and you timidly. After a second, the sister finally motions for you to lean in which you do, allowing her to whisper in your ear.

"...Thankyou. We really appreciate it - and thanks for your drawing lessons, too. Maybe now I can finally draw my nephew a proper dog," The siblings match your smile before happily returning to their doodles.

"For your occupation, you are pretty good with kids," Zemo compliments and it's only then that you realize he had technically been left unattended for a few minutes there. Thank goodness he didn't take the opportunity to slip away, having instead spent that brief time passing out candies to children playing around the courtyard. That must be why he stuffed his pockets with those Turkish delights earlier. It seems you had similar plans of befriending them in exchange for information.

"What can I say? I got a soft spot for 'em," You shrug casually while keeping a close eye on him as he gifts the two siblings with the remainder of his candy stash since they missed out earlier.

"So did she tell you where the funeral is?" Bucky asks rather impatiently in your opinion.

"Yeah, because I actually smiled to look friendly," You chide, barely looking over your shoulder to face him, "She gave me an address, but we still have some time before it starts, so might as well go back to the safe house and wait. I, personally, could use some lunch in the meantime."

"Might I recommend: there is a wonderful restaurant down the street that makes exquisite cold borscht and sorrel soup," Zemo pipes in, following you as you slip right past Bucky. Neither of you spare him any more attention than his pouting deserves, which may be petty, but as far as you're concerned, he can feel the burn of being ignored for once himself.

"Sounds great. Now let's find Sam and be on our way. Our work here won't finish itself."

NEXT CHAPTER {coming soon}

<- PREVIOUS CHAPTER

Taglist:

@arunabrak

#bucky barnes x reader #x reader #reader insert #marvel #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #captain america #bucky fic #bucky x y/n #winter soldier #winter solider x reader #winter solider x y/n #falcon and winter soldier #james buchanan barnes #captain america civil war #steve rogers #natasha romanoff #sam wilson #stark reader #marvel x reader

[merakiui]

I want angsty moments with professor ashengrotto hgnnggngnghhghgh!

(TW: Darling sewerslides)

Professor Ashengrotto overworking his darling so many times to the point they can't take it anymore. Based on his impressive calculations, You'll come crawling back to him again at a coffee shop date asking for another chance.. right? Until the shock on his face when he see his darling on a chair and tying a rope around their neck in the library..

OOOHHHHH omg..... the way he could just manipulate you so seamlessly after that. He's the one who helps you down, who offers a handkerchief so you can dry your eyes, who tells you so sincerely that he's here for you, that suicide isn't the option. And he walks you to the infirmary, echoing these sentiments, explaining that you can talk to him and the counselor about everything that's bothering you, he's here to listen, he understands it's difficult, but he's here to help. Always. He never apologizes, though. You're too emotionally shattered and distraught to realize that, but in a moment of mental weakness you cling to him and the words he dresses in sugared sincerity because he's the one who saved you, the one who helped you, the one who's here for you.

It's impossible to report him and all that he's done because no one's willing to believe you. Universities receive all kinds of accusations and claims, and if there isn't enough substantial proof to back up those claims or if nothing's discovered in an investigation... Professor Ashengrotto's record is so clean, both academically and socially. Really, you'll just look like a vindictive student trying to sully their professor's reputation. But in that moment nothing like that matters. Your mind is so fuzzy and everything feels so far-off and detached.

Everyone provides you with lots of care and support. Your professors give you lots of leniency after learning about your situation. If anything, everyone treats you very gently. As if you might try something drastic again. But no one is more forgiving than Professor Ashengrotto. You think he does this to rub it in your face because when you check your grades you find all of your past papers have been graded properly and your grade has risen in his class. He excuses you from upcoming deadlines in his class and tells you to focus on recovering. Your grade will not be affected.

You know you shouldn't cling to his goodwill. You know there are shadows that lurk beyond his charming sincerity. But, horrifically, you find yourself forgiving him. You find yourself thinking he's not that bad when he goes out of his way to check in with you through email and wish you well in your recovery. You're horrified because, at some point, you start to look forward to those check-in emails. You start to feel relieved to know someone cares so much and that he's looking out for you during this tough time rather than making it worse.

But he is making it worse. You just can't see that when your perception of him has become so twisted.

#twisted chit chat #tw: suicide mention #yandere twst

[angelosearch]

Hooray Tumblr is letting me post this now!!

The following is a super intense, probably too personal essay about trying to process the overwhelmingly GOOD news that I got into grad school.

I wasn't sure about posting this, but ultimately, it is a story about never giving up, because you never know where you will be in a couple of years. So maybe this will help someone who is struggling with feelings of being trapped in their own lives.

It can get better, and it will.

I look at my life right now and I am so overwhelmed and grateful. I get to be creative every day. I am writing again. I am always learning new things about art and psychology. I have a lovely home and amazing husband and great dog that I cherish. I have met some incredible people that, now that they are in my life, I never want them to leave.

And now I have gotten into grad school.

It all seems impossibly fantastic and I wonder what I did to deserve this. There is also a part of me that is curious when I will mess it up, but in this big tangle of emotions I am feeling, I am trying not to dwell on those.

There is a cord of sentiment that is thicker and wrapped around the rest. Something that I can't put a name to, but it has a color the shade of something thankful. Every time I twirl it around my mind I start to tear up.

It is the feeling that I am living a life I never could have imagined in my darkest days and I am just... so so so happy I am still here for them.

In the winter of 2020, after a life-long battle with mental illness, I gave up. I didn't try to give up, I actually gave up. It is only by some kindness of the universe that I am still here to type this post.

Suicide is a permanent answer to a temporary question--but the problem is, when you spend a good portion of your life haunted by depression and trauma and a voice that tells you that you have nothing to offer the world, the question does not seem temporary. When I became unable to imagine an escape from a job that made me feel worthless, a chronic illness that put me in pain and left me in isolation, a blanket of guilt I could not shake, and a global tragedy with no end in sight, I took my own emergency exit. It was like jumping out of the window of a burning building on the 32 floor. I believed I would die either way, but the fall to the ground would require less suffering.

I was lucky enough to be caught on the way down - but I didn't feel lucky. They wanted to put me back in the building, and now the fire was hotter and had consumed my furniture.

I woke up in a very poorly run psych ward. So poorly run, my husband did not know where I had been taken for 18 hours after he called 911. I was given a roommate who was way too much like my mother, and I slowly became manic without the knowledge of the staff. They discharged me a few days before Christmas.

I had been hypomanic before, but I never had a word for it. When I was crying at the sunset that night and feeling so energetic and happy (and telling the funniest jokes I had ever told, from my skewed perspective), I just thought I was happy to be alive. But I didn't sleep. I couldn't sleep. My pressured speech and grandiose ideas scared my husband and I ended up in psych ward #2 (a much nicer one). I had to spend one night in the ER screaming and hallucinating, believing my heart would give out before I'd fall asleep, before I got there, though.

They called it "manic psychosis." I called it "the darkest timeline."

On Christmas eve, I was given the gift of a new diagnosis: bipolar disorder. I was too unstable to know what that meant or to conceptualize that the burning building was crumbling in some parts.

On the day I was discharged, I slept very little and was extremely lethargic. I had trouble moving and my assigned counselor had to prop me up to help me to his office. I don't know why they discharged me when I had to be taken downstairs in a wheelchair, but they did.

I was in urgent care not 24 hours later when I could no longer walk or sit up, and I even had trouble speaking. A nice EMT, who I remember had a name that included two US presidents, though I don't recall which, took me to my third hospital in two weeks. By time I made it to my room, I had trouble swallowing and was put on a liquid diet.

It is hard to say what the worst part of this terrifying saga was. However, laying in that hospital bed with no ability to regulate my body temperature, stuck awake and unable to move with relentless, restless, manic energy, without so much as the relief of distraction from the picture on the tiny hospital TV because I didn't have my glasses, was excruciating in ways I still have trouble coming to terms with. I watched a lot of basketball, I think, by the squeaky sounds of the shoes.

After being assaulted by a frustrated nurse on New Year's Eve, I laid in my hospital bed wishing for the release of sleep while hospital staff hooted and hollered distantly for the ball drop. 2021 had begun and I was in the darkest place I had ever been.

When I could eat by myself again and manageably push around a walker, I was discharged on a rainy January day. No one could say for sure why my strange, temporary paralysis happened. Could have been the benzos I had taken too many of. Could have been the adjustment to the Lithium that would chase away the mania. Most likely, it was the sloppy transition off of Effexor at the first psych ward.

I was finally back in my burning building. I was fired from my job as soon as I had the strength to hold a phone. I had to explain and apologize to friends and family who were stunned and afraid of my actions. And then January 6th happened. In a few days, I would have to start physical therapy and a Partial Hospitalization Program (group therapy school).

I looked at my disintegrating surroundings and thought they expect me to fight for this? Why? I wished I had been successful in my attempt but I had only succeeded in making my life harder.

I guess those who cheered me on could see the possibility of my happiness and success, but I had a lot of trouble catching a glimpse. I went to another psych ward at the beginning of 2022 and ended up in a residential care facility for Halloween and Thanksgiving that year. I had two different jobs, both I ended up quitting for treatment. I tried group therapy and different therapists. I switched medications countless times and even tried Ketamine therapy for a while. Up until April of 2023 (when I started EMDR) or so, it really all felt hopeless, but for some reason, I fought for the unknowable just beyond the horizon. I kept asking for help.

And now I am here, and I can't believe all of this almost didn't happen.

I look around my office and see pieces of art I would have never created. I would have missed concerts and weddings and road trips. There is so much music I would have never listened to! I would have never rediscovered my childhood passions and learned how to be myself. I would never have met some very important people in my life.

It almost never happened, but I was given a second chance.

I have so many feelings right now, some good, some bad. I am excited. I am anxious. I wonder if I can handle the challenge and I fear my bragging or arrogance. But the biggest feeling is my desire to go back in time and hold a version of myself that couldn’t see the light at the end of the tunnel and kept walking anyway.

Now we get to chase our dreams, and teach other people to hold on like you did.

#personal #personal essay #Tw: suicide #tw: sucidal thoughts #writing #essay #gratefulness #bipolar disorder #bipolar mania

[miitarashi]

Looking after you,is my duty

Words: 1,3k

[Name] = reader (female)

Warnings: mention of death (tiny little),misspeling words, flirting, fluffy.

——————————————————————

Tintin was infiltrated in the castle belonging to your family since he discovered a plot between the king's advisor and his brother about killing the firstborn (you) and acquiring the crown after the death of the current king, your father. That would be their next step. It had only been a week and unfortunately, the counselor acted cautiously so as not to show signs, seeming to know that he was being watched while Tintin acted like a common guard.

In the meantime, Tintin made a point of at least letting the king know and this created rumors around the castle, as a precaution the king increased his guard which consequently became a threat to the advisor and perhaps due to the pressure, he would have a slip up that the journalist could catch, however, he still held firm to the facade and Tintin did the same. In compensation for giving the king advice, he entrusted him with your safety, making him your royal guard.

Now assigned to protect the princess, Tintin saw an opportunity there, being by your side he could maybe enter places only available to people of nobility, not the guards. Unfortunately, precisely because you were the princess, even as the future queen, your father made a point of leaving you out of matters relating to rumors so as not to cause stress. Although you didn't necessarily follow your father's orders and tried to help, which in turn became very useful for the undercover guard next to you.

That is until your father found out and vehemently forbade you from any involvement, leaving you in the dark about the situation again which was beyond frustrating, a great injustice and Tintin couldn't help but feel sorry because in the end, you were just worried about wanting to help and protect your father. Even so, it wasn't wrong, as your guard he wanted to keep you protected and with that, he redoubled his efforts to not expose you to that risk.

Never completely looking away from the advisor, the ginger-haired boy continued his duty as a guard and in a way, even as a friend, helping you with your tasks, recommending some books he had already read that could be found in the castle's large library and even in the midst of this complicated situation, your small details did not go unnoticed by the journalist's eyes.

Much like any royal person, you had a natural air of elegance, but soft in a way. Never acting above, always putting yourself on the same level as anyone before making decisions, the warm and gentle manner being your usual self along with your ability to stand up for yourself when something happened, although he had to help you at some point ,mostly you were the one taking care of yourself. Tintin acted more like a companion than a guard and you noticed that, finding it pretty funny because you weren't the only one,a lot of other guards, even maids, always had the same impression.

Even more so due to the fact that he almost followed you constantly, keeping watch like a guard dog, despite always maintaining a satisfactory distance so as not to be too much in your personal space. It got to the point where you had to stop yourself from patting his head when thanking him for his protection.

After another ordinary day, where Tintin remained with an attentive eye on both you and the counselor, subtly observing from the window as you enjoyed the soft taste of the tea, you couldn't avoid a question that had taken up a permanent place in your head,as his efforts seemed a little exaggerated and exhausting since you had only seen him resting a few times.

"Tell me, would you like to have a day to yourself?" — Tintin looked at you somewhat confused, raising an eyebrow at the question.

"A day for me, your majesty? May i dare to ask why such a question?" — the confusion perpetuates in his voice, making you giggle a little in response putting back the cup on the table.

"A break. During this month, even though you maintained a certain posture, you still seemed tense in a certain way, now it's not an exception" — when you pointed out the fact, his eyes widened a little, noticing that his body was actually a bit stiff, possibly due to the constant precipitation of the counselor's possible plan.

"Even on your breaks, you refuse to rest, so i would like to give you a completely free day, another guard can take your place until then, so you can take a well deserved rest" — your kindness was both pleasant and a certain relief.

Tintin gave a soft laugh, shaking his head before looking at you again, not only this act of kindness but your manner as a whole was more than enough for him. Your ordinary calm and understanding posture was like a calming snapshot, he just hadn't noticed because of his focus on the main problem.

"I'm truly grateful for such kindness, your majesty, but I prefer to keep my watch. I like to think that no one protects you better than me" — such was his calm, that he allowed himself a light joke that was not uncommon between you two by the time he was acting like your royal guard. However, this one brought a slight blush to your cheeks that you tried to cover up with a light laugh.

"Oh...a little hard-headed i see, does such insistence come from just that?" — you gave in to the joke and got up, walking calmly towards your guard, being careful to hide a feather duster behind your back.

"Looking after you,is my duty" — he maintained his posture, even noticing that look behind the gentle face you normally maintain. Just another one of the things he found interesting about you or maybe even enticing.

"Is that the only reason why you do it?" — you asked, taking a few more steps forward, getting closer and closer to him maintaining eye contact, momentarily losing yourself in his gaze.

"Is that not a reason enough?" — he retort with an eyebrow a bit raised.

"If that's the only reason that there is...?" — your voice sounded a little low due to the proximity, enough for him to hear and notice the slight change in tone, your sly side coming through little by little as your hand with the feather duster moves slowly towards him.

"Your majesty..." — noticing how close he was and the nature of the situation, for a moment he remained still and without response. Your face so close but still distant, your gaze fixed on his making his heart subtly accelerate.

"Yes...?" — managing to distract him, you started rubbing the duster on his sides, trying to get some laughs out of him although the closeness was making you think that just to bend over and go for it wasn't a bad option…

"I'm...not ticklish" — at the last second he managed to compose himself when he saw that your objective wasn't exactly what he thought when he noticed the duster.

"Awww, i was sure i would make a laugh or two out of you" — you could only lament with a small laugh before walking away. Tintin took a deep breath to regulate his heart beat, lowering his guard hat a little to hide the tiny red tint on his cheeks.

"Well, at least i distracted you a bit out from work, it was worth it" — you smiled and he did the same with a nod.

"Yes..you did. Thank you, your majesty"

He bowed as you set the duster aside and went back to enjoying your tea while watching the scenery through the window with a small blush as well.

Both of you are internally a little frustrated, but thinking it better not to put too much pressure on the situation, although maybe, someday after he finishes the case...he might do it before leaving…

Who knows?...

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A/N: hey there! Just testing this style of writing, it's a bit different in a way. Next sunday i'll post a request! Thank you for reading! Bye bye 😘

#the adventures of tintin #tintin #tintin x reader #tintin 2011