#im a sucker for first meetings

[ghcstao3]

It’s just one of those unspoken things of life, John thinks. At least—for those it pertains to.

A sort of… smoker’s pact. Bumming cigarettes and sharing a light. The mutual understanding and the wordless agreement of the familiar transaction. And while the habit isn’t at all preferable—the whole act, John thinks, is sort of wonderful.

It’s how he meets Simon.

John’s move to a new city hasn’t treated him too kindly so far. He’d had to stay in a hotel for two weeks because of an infestation in his flat, his new job screwed up his paperwork so he doesn’t get to start for almost another month yet, and, worst of all: he knows no one here. He has a cat for company, sure, but she can only do so much for conversation.

John doesn’t smoke often, but tonight is one of those times where he thinks he’s earned it.

Except now, as he pulls out his near-empty pack after climbing to the building’s roof, he realizes he has nothing to light the cigarette with. He curses.

Great.

Frustrated, he shoves one between his lips anyway, crumpling the pack in his jacket pocket as the wind blows past. At least the view is decent enough.

“Need a light?” Someone asks.

John nearly jumps out of his skin, thankful he hadn’t been standing anywhere close to the roof’s edge. He hadn’t heard nor seen anyone, and maybe he could attribute that to the dark and the whistling breeze—but turning to face his company, it’s a wonder he didn’t notice.

The man is, well. Large. Even wearing black to blend in with the hour, and even with his posture slightly hunched to perhaps meet John’s height or attempt to preserve warmth, John can tell his shoulders are broad. John can tell he’s stupidly tall if only he straightened his spine just a little.

“If you don’t mind,” John says, the slightest bit breathless.

John watches sort of mesmerized, as a flame burns the tip of his smoke. The man follows up with his own cigarette, then tucks his lighter into his hoodie pocket.

It must be instinctual, the way the man turns his head to the side to exhale once he’s taken a drag.

“I’ve never seen you up here before,” the man remarks.

John shrugs. He takes his own drag, then blows the smoke to his right. “I only recently moved here.”

The man hums. “Well, I’m sure you’ll be glad to know I’m about the only other one who comes up here. Easier to hide your naughty habit.”

John barks out a laugh. “Bit hypocritical, wouldn’t you say?”

The corners of the man’s lips curl upward. “Not sure what you’re talking about.”

John wouldn’t learn Simon’s name for another month and a half after that, but he doesn’t think it would ever matter. Not when they have their unspoken thing.

Maybe this new city wouldn’t be so terrible after all.

#im a sucker for first meetings #ive said it before and ill say it again #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #soapghost #ghostsoap #ghost x soap #ghoap #writing

[radiostarsz]

@voxxisms [ So come with me and take the ride It'll take you to the other side ♪]

There is rift in Pentagram that every night seems that even the devil has forgotten.

Alastor has affectionately called it Homún because of the five streets that have been cooked inside the most important, the one he likes the most is Malebolge Lane. There, during the same moon, without fail, thr doul market wakes up once a month.

A labyrinth of alleys, unmarked doors, and street stalls that offer a little bit of everything to their consumer. There among the greasy shelves, under the neon lights and fake facades, steamed imp heart are being boiled. The locals call it "kuushur" for its extravagant flavor and its scent spiked with advertisements inviting you to drink the latest trendy liquor. But his bloody tastes weren't the only reason he was ther. Alastor find himself qute fond for that place. A spot he could enjoy that uncontrolled traffic that dragged all souls at its own discordant flow. And, of course, it reminded him a lot of home. He knew everyone's business and all the scandals.

As the most popular radio host in the Pride Ring, Alastor's mere presence was a magnet for attention. In the midst of the crowd, his smile seemed to widen when the attention of the curious turned to him. ❝Now...now... what do we have here? ❞ his voice stirss with static , his red ears bristled as they perked up. The Radio Demon, who had already noticed the newcomer ❝ fresh meat ❞

❝ HMMM....?❞ the radio demon tilts his head and leans fowar ❝ Why the long face, dearie? You look like you have been sent to the slaughterhouse, and, my! ❞ the demon's eyes glint and he raises a finger, the claw tapping the corner of his eye ❝ you indeed arrived there. ❞ he reached up and bopped the tip of his nose with the tip of one of his claw,

❝ You need to smile, dear. Smiling makes everything better! ❞

#📺📻 ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ᴛʜᴏꜱᴇ ᴏʟᴅ ʀᴇᴄᴏʀᴅꜱ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱʜᴇʟꜰ ; voxal #🎛️ . THE OTHER SIDE #i named the verse after the song aaaaaaaaaaaah #*happy radio sounds* #long post wtf lmao #sorry i got pumped #im a sucker for first meetings

[lerrryyyyy]

TDDK Different First Meeting AU

Where, during a fight to apprehend a villain, Prohero Shouto gets thrown into a building. He lies there, dazed. He's vaguely aware that he might have a concussion, but he can't seem to have the energy to get up.

(He later finds out that the villain had been absorbing his energy to fuel his strength quirk during the fight).

Shouto would've probably been stuck there longer, if not for the stranger that followed him into the building, hoisted him easily into his arms, and bolted to a safer part of the area.

Shouto is far too out of it to protest but he's pretty sure the stranger talks to him at some point. It sounds like an assurance? All his muddled brain can think of at that point is that the guy is a bit of an idiot running into a villain fight like this even if he is saving him.

But also, a part of him can't help but be a little impressed at how gutsy the guy is. When he finally puts him down, Shouto barely has enough time to clear his vision and take a look at his reckless savior, when the guy is already calling for a paramedic to check on him.

All Shouto could remember was vibrant green and a warm reassuring smile.

During clean up, reporters start interviewing the heroes on the scene. Momo, who had arrived during the fight just as Shouto was thrown into the building, is fussing over him just as a journalist approaches them.

Momo tells him that Iida is insisting that he take the rest of the day to recover and rest, and that Uraraka is threatening to float him if he tries to continue his patrol.

But Shouto, who is still a bit out of it and still thinking of his rescue earlier, just bluntly goes, "No, I'm going to find that reckless idiot who saved me and ask him out on a date."

Bonus if someone catches this on camera and that video goes VIRAL. And everyone is just looking for "Hero Shouto's Savior".

1A's chat is in CHAOS.

The Todoroki sibling chat is also in CHAOS.

(Even better if Izuku is actually either an underground hero or a vigilante and is TRYING to keep a low profile and is panicking because omg PROHERO SHOUTO wants to ask him on a date?!?!?But also ohgodohgod he can't deal with all this attention how is he gonna do his work when there's that constant worry of possibly being recognized what is he gonna do now ohgod HITOSHI PLEASE I AM HAVING A CRISIS STOP LAUGHING!!)

#bnha #tododeku #todomido #au rants #underground hero izuku #vigilante izuku #different first meetings #is it obvious that im a sucker for secretly badass izuku aus #yes i am #and shouto being all 💘 at izuku

[foxprints]

Love trying to figure out how to draw a nonhuman, non corporeal character. Like. HOW do you depict dry sarcasm without body language? Without facial expressions??

#the Murderbot Diaries #Asshole Research Transport #Murderbot Diaries #im also shit at drawing robots and mech so this series is really making me push at my comfort zones lol #i saw someone draw ART as just like... floating glowy eyes #and I definitely like that #ive also seen it drawn as a massive dragon #i feel like it would have a like..... conversational presence? #still slightly looming but comfortable -- this is the one that Murderbot watched hrs and hrs of media with #then there's the version that's looming and *intimidating* #this is the one that Murderbot first interacts with and also the one that Murderbot's crew meets #the one that pokes and pokes and pokes at Murderbot while its hiding in the bathroom #then there's ARTs Boss Battle form #which is scary af and the one thats perfectly ok with tossing armed pathfinders at the colony to get Murderbot back #anyway im a complete sucker for asshole characters willing to burn thr world for each other so #ART+Murderbot is something special just for me

[garglyswoof]

💌 send this to the twelve nicest people you know or who seem to have a good heart and if you get five back you must be pretty awesome. 💌 :)

Thanks Gabby! Have a short idk what this is for being a good friend and sending cheer. I hope you like!

He doesn't even need to glance up to know it's her, but he is greedy for the sight, so he swings his gaze and takes her in. 

Toes painted a sunny yellow, legs a mile long and climbing, chest heaving, arms pulled back and restrained by the two hybrids bookending her and there - the reason for this surprising moment of quiet - the gag. 

“Did they hurt you?”

Her eyes condemn him to the grave, but it's a bit too late for that. She shakes her head no, but she's not happy about it and murmurs what he is sure is some variation of ‘get them OFF me’ beneath the cloth.

“Let her go.”

“But boss, you gave us strict orders to detain any-”

The word dissolves in a haze of blood and a puff of breath as Klaus tears out the hybrid’s windpipe.  The other man flinches and steps back in alarm, letting the woman’s arm drop from his grip. She promptly tears the gag from her mouth.

“What the fuck, Klaus?” Caroline rasps. 

“They were not ordered to gag detainees, he was not following orders.” A glance up and a flash to the other hybrid, her voice in his ear a cry that slows him down just enough. She stands, arms out, blocking Klaus from the cowering hybrid who takes the opportunity to flash away. He’d kill him later, and more -

“If you kill him later, I will find out about it, Klaus.” How this one vampire could break into his NoLa compound after thirty years of radio silence and completely upend his life was beyond him, but he’d be lying if he said he doesn't welcome the change. Still, there were rituals to consider.

“Oh?” He sucks the blood off his thumb, watches her eyes darken. “And why are you so concerned over my “minion’s” lives?” Klaus has never been one for air quotes and blames Caroline’s presence on his use now. 

“Klaus. I know you’ve had me trailed. I know it’s you that sends elaborate gifts every year on my birthday.” She shrugs her shoulders, rolling them backwards to stretch them out from her confinement. He resolves to find and kill the hybrid again, and she spears him with a knowing glance.

“The drawings were my favorite, you know.” Her eyes are vulnerable in a way he didn’t expect, knowing what she’s been through the past thirty years with those supernatural Mystic Falls idiots. “But what I’m saying is you know me, and you have to know I would be extremely pissed off that I got caught, and extremely vocal in expressing said displeasure. It wasn’t their fault, I would have gagged me too.” She takes a step towards him, her eyes locked on his own. She raises a hand to where his necklaces lie, tugs one out from beneath his shirt. 

“But aside from all of that, don’t you want to know why I’m here?”

#purplesigebert #klaroline #klaroline fanfiction #long post #kinda #im such a sucker for first meeting post long separation

[figcookie01]

something else i sketched similar to that last ask but more silly

#leone abbacchio #pannacotta fugo #vento aureo #jjba #rkgk #im a sucker for fugo being standoffish when he firsts meets abba but. #abbacchio is literally so out of it he doesnt even care

[seaofgoldensand]

WAIT YOU PLAY GENSHIN? WHO IS YOUR MAIN? NPNP WAS TO FUCKING DIE FOR KAZUSCARA MY BABES

I USED TO ANONNIE, been stuck on love and deepspace and sometimes HSR.

anemo boys sans venti (I LOVE HIM THO I JUST COULDN'T BUILD HIM WELL) were like my mains, i used xiao a lot on my EU and then scara on my NA + hu tao, they swap and xingqui never leaves.

ANYWAYS SOBBING YES BECAUSE FUCK MAN NPNP HIT SO DAMN WELL, sirihans will always be someone i look up to in writing because the way he writes out the stories is just so alskdfjdks I MELT too damn good.

this fucking this is ETCHED INTO THE DEEPEST PARTS OF MY MIND.

 “I solved cases for him, while I slew a god for you.” 

also i will die on this hill kzscr reigns supreme idgaf if they haven't met each other in the main story THEY HAVE CONNECTIONSSS, I WILL HAVE NOTHING LESS

#anonnie #scaramouche #wanderer #kazuha #kaedehara kazuha #genshin #genshin impact #kazuscara #and im a sucker for the ships that 'make absolutely no sense' #bc then i write stupid shit like how their first meeting would be #damn i miss them #also kzscr stay on my genshin team #cannot separate them since hoyo doesnt wanna feed us #no password no poison

[tmechld]

∗ 15﹕ sender  and  receiver  make  eye  contact  across  a  busy  room .

Crowds are far from unfamiliar to her, yet she still finds herself lightly tense at the number of people around. Enough to have guard spiked, watching people passing by in some means of keeping a close eye on each one. People unfamiliar, no one quite so astonishing - 

Until gaze finds that of someone familiar, head tilting curiously at the sight. Not quite who she expected to. . .well, ever see again. Curiosity spikes as it seems their gazes meet across the crowded room, the shouts and conversations around her seeming mere muffled now, attention entirely on the other. She’s older; how long has it been since?

@isbrilliant

#isbrilliant #(moving this from the multi!) #(im a sucker for a first meeting/reunion thread man)

[lilisette]

so i mentioned that my arcana has a backstory... here it is! its very extensive with a lot of rohendel headcanons (blame smilegate for having almost ZERO lore for that place) so beware! this post is EXTREMELY long 

im sorry i have chronic cant shut up syndrome 

In one’s coming of age ceremony, only those who are the soul’s descendants may receive said soul, i.e., only Enviska’s descendants may receive her soul during their ceremony. 

There are a few prominent families in Rohendel that claim they are Enviska’s descendants and they would also often say that Enviska’s Successor would be of their family someday. 

While it is true that they are related to her in some way, they are related to her via Enviska’s siblings/cousins, not directly to her.

Enviska had a child once upon a time but she hid her child’s existence and identity due to the dangers of being her sole offspring. If society or her enemies ever learnt about said child, they would no doubt try to either cause harm to her baby or bombard her with proposals and offerings in hopes of linking their family with her. So Enviska hid her in order to keep her safe.

That child grew up and had a family of their own, and eventually her offspring would have Yerenia, Lyudmila’s mother, making Lyudmila a direct descendant of Enviska.

A lot of mages, including Inanna, kept track of Enviska’s bloodline in anticipation of the Successor. But since Enviska had done a great job hiding her child and the truth, no one knows that there was a direct line of descent, including Lyudmila and her mother themselves.

-

Lyudmila was born to Yerenia, a well known Arcanist. Her father belonged to one of the prominent families in Rohendel and Lyudmila’s parents were lovers until his family found out and forced them apart due to Yerenia not of noble blood, and her father married another woman instead.

Yerenia forgave him at first, thinking it was a decision that came from the head and not him. But later on she learnt that that was not the case and she was a mere plaything to him and nothing more. 

She was outraged of course, by his betrayal and his family’s constant slander of her character. What’s worse was that she was pregnant and Rohendel being a conservative place, she was judged heavily for her pregnancy, on top of her former lover’s family’s slander. 

Yerenia ran away to live in the outskirts of Xeneela, where the people would not judge her as they were also subject to discrimination as well. 

The people of Xeneela weren’t strangers to foreign faces, as it was a common place for runaways to be whenever they wanted to escape the capital. But a pregnant woman seeking refuge was something they hadn’t seen before, so they took her in and soon enough, Yerenia had her child Lyudmila in the midst of the desolate Xeneelan landscape. 

Despite living in such a dreadful place, they were happy living there. Until Yerenia passed away due to all the stress and inability to adapt to the hostile Xeneelan environment. The people of Xeneela took Lyudmila in and took care of her in her mother’s stead, with some former mages of Moonkeep teaching her everything they knew about magic.

Said mages eventually told her to go to the capital to seek further education as there was only so much they could teach her, with their deformed bodies and faulty mana due to the explosion. So with their blessing, Lyudmila set off for Rothun, the place that gave her mother so much grief.

Seeking an apprenticeship with her status as a Xeneelan was nigh impossible. A lot of mages thought she was the child of mages who caused the explosion and steered clear of her. Some who knew the truth of her background, also avoided her because she was an illegitimate child. 

Lyudmila had a difficult time finding a mentor because of the discrimination. In a last ditch effort to garner the attention of a potential mentor, she joined a tournament to display her skills.

It wasn’t easy winning the tournament, but it was a victory nonetheless. Lyudmila hadn’t expected to win, much less gain the attention of Azena, of all people. But she did. 

“You. You are from Xeneela.”

“Y-yes, your majesty.”

“Those cards of yours... Are you Yerenia’s child?”

“Yes. I-I am Lyudmila.”

“Interesting.” “Come to Sunkeep tomorrow morning. No talent like yours should be wasted.”

-

Having Azena as a mentor was tough. Lyudmila was constantly pushed to her limits but she wouldn’t have it any other way. She was absolutely terrified of Azena at first, with her cold demeanor and blunt criticism, but Lyudmila warmed up to her after a while, eventually aiding Azena with day to day affairs and administration as she grew older. 

Despite being the queen’s apprentice and her hard work, many still saw her as that Xeneelan mage who tricked the queen or that illegitimate child that got lucky, and often sent snide remarks her way or hindered her work whenever Azena wasn’t around. 

This treatment went on until Lyudmila’s coming of age ceremony, when everything changed. She went from that Xeneelan/bastard child, to Enviska’s Successor overnight. Those that once sneered at her groveled at her feet, begging for a second chance.

The family that her father was from, the family that did so much to her mother and her, came to her as well, offering her acceptance into the family and so much more.

If they had asked her years ago, when she was a mere child, she would have accepted it without any hesitation. All she had wanted then was to be accepted. She still has that same desire but after learning the truth of her mother’s silent tears every night, and having her hard work not recognized until she was announced as the Successor, something that had nothing to do with her work and was only Successor because of bloodline, she grew tired of it all. So with the queen’s blessing, she hopped on the next boat out of Rohendel in hopes of finding some place else that would accept her, and eventually makes her way to a place called Trua, where her destiny begins.

-

when i said extensive.... i really meant it lmao. i have a lot of rohendel related headcanons still but they’re not really relevant to her backstory so i didn’t add. 

but yeah there you go, an unnecessarily long backstory for my arcana LOL

#lost ark #lost ark oc #ngl its very manhwa ish #i blame all the manhwas i read for her backstory #trope after trope after trope #but idc it is how it is LMFAO #theres a lot more in the middle but i dont want to make this post any longer soooo #feel free to ask if anyone is curious #theres probably some plotholes in her backstory that im not seeing #if there really is then welp #also yes her first meeting with azena is a parallel to thar's with ealyn #yes i am a sucker for parallels

[grapecaseschoices]

!!

Farryn Leshy

Ryn (also Les in my head) is my latest OC and my third Wayfarer MC

Current fc is Bailey Bass, pronouns are ey/em. Ey's an elf (though this isn't canon, ey has pointy teeth bc I believe elves SHOULD).

I'm still figuring out eir's personality and dynamics -- well, at least the more fiddly aspects.

Essentially I wanted a character that fit this sorta persona: the lying liar who lies. Why? Just because ey can, just because it's none of your business.

When ey isn't just saying shit, ey is talking shit. Definitely the cheekiest of my three Wayfarers. And when ey're not doing any of THAT, silence is surprisingly eir go too (ey have to get SOMETHING from grumpy Dad)

I've been trying to balance what I want for eir's personality and em being raised by Cenric. I will say of my three ey is the most loyal to eir mentor, point blank. Like Ryn ended up being more sentimental than I expected and ey miss home a lot (child of the fields), but ey has a lot of genuine love and respect for Cenric. It's more straight forward between them (as opposed to Varyn and Peter or Sero and Izzy). I also think, actually thus far this is true, Farryn is the only one whose loyalty stems from Cenric being Cenric rather than having SOMETHING to belong to (like the other two).

Last fact: Ryn is impulsive and highly adventerous. Tends to be 'let's do this and see where it goes' and at times even 'kill now, ask questions later'.

With every “!!” i get, I’ll introduce you to an OC!

Thanks @magefaery !

#magefaery #wayfarer mc #oc: farryn leshy #thanks for the ask! #grapecase answers #i mostly created ryn because i wanetd an mc who got to see the count's villa wqertew #it would never be izzy bc he dont care. he's likely to straightforward for it. he did his part pay him #while pete is capable of impudence she's turning out to be more noble than i expected #while she's capable of a good lie and playing teh GameTM. she strikes for doing what is right first im seeing/i feel #farryn ... on the other hand werew lmao #i might end up playing farryn #i want em to be a bastardTM but with a good heart #i havent quite figured eir balance between doing what helps others vs what helps themselves #mayeb that will be eir development #bc im a sucker for guile heros #meet my ocs

[el3nasa]

               the  sun  kissed  her  face  as  she  exited  the  post  office  ,  the  crisp  mystic  falls  air  welcome  after  the  stuffiness  of  the  building  she’d  just  left  .  pulling  her  sleeves  down  further  over  her  hands  ,  she  tilted  her  head  back  and  inhaled  the  cool  breeze  before  putting  her  mail  in  her  messenger  bag  .  perhaps  she’d  go  to  the  nearby  park  and  work  on  her  latest  draft  ;  with  that  in  mind  ,  she  headed  that  way  ,  worn  converse  leaving  soft  footfalls  on  the  sidewalk  .  she'd  only  just  arrived  at  the  essentially  abandoned  park  when  she  spotted  someone  out  of  the  corner  of  her  eye  .  @salvatoraes​  was  near  the  woods  ,  his  unexpected  appearance  startling  her  .  she  caught  a  hint  of  red  near  his  face  ,  her  inherent  need  to  care  for  others  warring  with  self-preservation  instincts  .  her  nurturing  side  won  out  ,  and  she  approached  him  cautiously  ,  dark  gaze  gentle  .   ‘  i’m  sorry  to  bother  you  ,  but  are  you  okay  ?  ’

                     ‘  why  are  you  bleeding  ?   do  you  need  help  ?  ’

#hope this is okay! im a sucker for first meetings ;-; #but lmk if u'd prefer a different verse <3 #salvatoraes #𝒊 . verse one .

[diobrando]

there are at least 10 seats between me and the other person and this girl decides to sit 2 seats over from me like cmon girl move over 3 more seats wtf

#theres only 10 people around me in this corner of the library and theyre all at least 6ft away from me which rules #also not to expose myself but i am in here reading my yaoiz instead of doing schoolwork no wonder romario drags me for this #BUT in my defense i havent even looked at this reading in like.... uhhh a month? and the more i read the more i think about that one review #that says this series works better without the romance and god yeah idc about that at all im here for them growing close despite their #opposing viewpoints and tbh im so obsessed with how batshit crazy YWS is BUT SQ is my it guy #i dont usually pick the kindhearted protag as my fav but he's different #he really is kind and acts on his kindness with no desire to have it returned (tho it is appreciated) only to have his kindness repaid with #cruelty from the people he helps like god he's constantly being betrayed or hurt but his resolve is firm like cmon im a sucker esp when he #almost died and shiwu saved him and told him that even tho most people tend to forget the kindness granted to them by others that he still #regarded SQ's kindness as a virtue esp as he was alive and well because of SQ showing him a small kindness months before meeting again #like do not look at me this was the first time his kindness was shown in the first 50 chapters as having had a positive outcome and the way #he teared up and had that internal monologue about how it felt nice to finally have someone return his kindness and thank him and want to #emulate him like god im on the floor im dying im crying ALSO is his son now #there was no way that arc was gonna end well and im reading through it rn but theyre everything to me i want more of these 2 and only them #i said id stop reading at ch. 50 so i could do schoolwork so bye i gotta finish this chapter now and spend a few hours before class focusing #on scaffolding vocabulary and building background knowledge ;( (its fine i dont hate it i would prefer to continue my pleasure reading) #also i should be shot for reading this instead of electric sheep bc i did bring it too but i made a mistake this weekend by looking at this #reading and now im on ch. 49 and dont want to stop but im gonna have to

[mossmurdock]

Hi! I love ur vampire!geto post so much! Will there be a part 2? That & the stable hand/prince gojo fic are so so so amazing! Thanks for creating such amazing work!

hello! and omg thank u so much i enjoyed writing them both a lot so im glad u enjoyed reading:))!!

i have a little smth in my drafts for vampire!geto,, its a bit of jump in time between his and the reader's relationship. but more stuff is coming for the start of their dynamic too since i kind of left their first meeting open ended!!

#this was so sweet thank u!! #hearing people enjoyed smth i wrote never gets old :')) #i also have smth for stable hand/prince gojo because im a sucker for first meetings and havent delved into theirs yet!! #asks #moss answers

[too-deviant]

The three weeks it took for Luke Castellan’s wounds to heal.

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Apollo!Reader

Summary: Luke comes back from his quest defeated and angry, and refuses to let anyone see him. But he still needs tending to. You are the lucky sucker who gets to do so.

Content: post-quest angsty luke, reader is awkward, i use the word under’t at one point because i think im shakespeare or some shit

Word Count: 7.6k

Notes: Pushing the agenda that lukes scar is gnarrly like it’s nasty !! not just some faint lil line. the boy was attacked by an actual dragon, like pls. also this hasn’t been proofread so sorry if it doesn’t make sense

part two

꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷

The spring that Luke Castellan spent on his quest was a strange one for the residents of Camp Half-Blood.

For years, campers knew who to go to whenever they needed advice. When they needed help. They knew who to direct the new campers to when they stumbled over the boundary line — and knew they were in good hands. Luke’s hands. He was the big brother the whole camp needed, and not just because he was older than most of them. He just had that aura — and he was undoubtedly kind to everyone he came across. Not to mention the guy was insane with a sword, and had this boyish charm that anyone would fall for. Most campers, if not all of them, looked up to Luke Castellan.

So when he left, nobody knew what to do.

It was pretty tame at first, mostly just awkward. Especially in the Hermes cabin, with Chris Rodriguez in charge in his brother's absence. A Hephaestus kid had taken over the sword fighting classes Luke usually ran, which proved to do more harm than good because he wasn’t all that great at using a sword than he was at forging them, and most of Luke’s students were already better than him.

But nothing went wrong — at least for the first week.

But after the initial awkwardness wore off, chaos ensued.

Chris couldn’t keep the Hermes kids in check — once they realised he wasn’t as authoritative as Luke, they began to use it to their advantage. Everyone got pranked, the camp store was raided three times before Chiron decided to close it down for the meantime and dishwashing duty every night was not slowing them down.

You hadn’t realised just how much the camp relied on Luke until he wasn’t there to keep things under control. Fights broke out with nobody to step in between them, and more and more kids were showing up to the infirmary with injuries that they could take care of themselves — something Luke would’ve told them to do instead of bothering you and your siblings. It was actually unbelievable how much a group of about a hundred half-gods relied on the steady hand of one seventeen year old boy.

You couldn’t wait until he got back so you could finally get some peace and quiet.

Luke didn’t return to camp for two and a half weeks, and as the days went by, campers began to get uneasy. Nobody knew what his quest had entailed, or where he had to go, so the longer they went without news the more antsy people got. You didn’t speak to Luke much — maybe a few shared sentences to be polite — but you knew what he was capable of. You tried your best to reassure the campers, as did your brother Lee and the rest of the Cabin Counsellors.

You knew Luke would come back. You knew he would stumble down that hill with his head held high and meet the group of campers waiting for him at the bottom. You knew there would be a celebration, a party, and a lot of kids out past curfew. But you knew Chiron would let it off, because Luke Castellan was back.

Except that’s not what happened. At all.

It was a warm day, and you were helping some of your younger siblings make friendship bracelets by the lake. Your camp shirt clung to the sweat on your back and you peeled it off with a grimace whenever you stood, straightening out your shorts and checking on the next kid. They seemed happy enough to be in the sun — really, you should’ve been too. Child of Apollo and all. But apparently your father wasn’t feeling the love for you today, because while the rest of your siblings were thriving, you were seconds away from jumping into the lake just to cool down — even if it pissed off the Naiads.

Thankfully, when you stood up once more and looked over the horizon, you saw your brother Aden jogging towards you. You took the opportunity to hide under the shade of the trees by meeting him halfway, and greeted him with a breathless, “Hey.”

He spoke your name with a nod and a smile, throwing a thumb over his shoulder, “Chiron needs you in the Big House. Looked serious. I’ll take over here.”

“Oh, Okay.” You nodded, turning to the kids and telling them you’d be back as soon as you could, before marching your worn converse through the grass and up to where the house sat on the edge of the hill.

Chiron was in the doorway when you reached the porch, sat in wheelchair form and wearing a grim look. You paused, worried. He nodded at you, “Thank you for coming on such short notice. Usually I wouldn’t do this, but…desperate times. Follow me.”

You followed as he led you down the hall, brows furrowing, “What's going on? Is everything okay?”

He looked at you with a serious expression, saying your name lowly, “I need you to ensure that what I am about to tell you will never leave the walls of this house. Nobody needs to know about this until we have deemed it appropriate.”

“Of course.” You said immediately, folding your arms. You weren’t so warm anymore. “What happened?”

He straightened up, and stared, “Luke Castellan is back from his quest.”

That was not what you expected him to say. Dropping your arms to your side and stepping forward slightly, “What? Since when?”

“Ten minutes ago, give or take.” He replied, brows in a concerned furrow, “Mr D has taken him upstairs. He is injured.”

“Right.” You nodded, “I’ll go and—“

“Wait, child.” You stopped, one foot on the bottom step of the stairs, looking back at him, “You must know something.”

Chiron took in a deep breath, eyes glossed over like whatever he was about to say weighed heavily on him, “He is…not in good condition. On top of his injuries, Luke is unfortunately…not in a good state of mind. His quest has affected him, and he requested quite adamantly that nobody should see him until he is ready to see them. I will respect his wishes, of course, but he will still need someone to tend to his wounds. That will be you.”

“Me?” You’d never shared a full conversation with the guy. Maybe some small talk, a polite smile here and there, but you were hardly acquainted, let alone friendly. You told him this.

“Exactly my point.” Was his reply, head held high, “Luke does not want to talk to anyone at the moment, and I’m sure if any of his friends were to be up there, they would simply coddle him. You, on the other hand…”

“I’m a stranger.” You nodded, “Of course. Right. I get that. So, you just want me to patch him up, act like it never happened? I can do that.”

“Not exactly, my child.”

You raised a brow.

“Luke’s injuries are quite extensive. He will need around the clock care until he is healed enough. He will also need someone to bring him food, clean clothes.”

“Oh, so you want me to nanny him.”

He chuckled, but it faded just as quickly as it came, “Unfortunately, he needs it.”

You pursed your lips. It didn’t seem all that hard — it was just like having any other camper in the infirmary. Only this one, everyone was on the edge of their seats waiting for, and you weren’t allowed to tell anyone he was a mere fifty feet away from them, curled up in a bed in the Big House.

No biggie.

i. WEEK ONE

Chiron had ushered you up the steps as soon as your conversation was over, and given you directions to the room Luke was in. Your steps were slow and unsure — you’d never been this far into the Big House before, but Mr D stood idly outside one of the doors lining the second floor hallway, arms crossed and face taut. The floorboards creaked under the weight of your foot when you reached the landing, and he looked up at you.

“He’s in there.” He pointed to the door in front of him, “Careful, he’s a short fuse right now. All the medical thingamabobs you need are in there already. Keep your mouth shut about this.”

Then he slid past you and down the stairs without another word, and you were left alone in the empty hall. Blinking hard to clear your head, you stood a few measly steps toward the door, stopping just outside of it and leaning your ear against the wood.

Nothing tangible. Mostly just the scraping of wood against the skin of your ear, and once you had stopped moving, there was nothing. No mutters, no bed creaks, not even a sniffle. It unnerves you, but you wrapped a hand around the cold metal of the handle and turned it anyway.

Maybe it was because he had been gone for a while, or maybe it was because you never saw him that much when he was around, but you had to blink away the shock at Luke’s appearance. Minus the obvious injuries, he just looked different. His skin was tanned and rough, his jaw taut and his hair hanging messily over his forehead, longer bits curling around his ears after going uncut for so long.

He was sitting on the edge of a bed that had been tucked into the corner of the room. There was a window just above it, but a thin curtain had been pulled over it and blocked out the sunlight that was begging to shine on you. The room was dark, but light enough that you could see what you were doing when you walked over to the desk in the other corner and started shuffling through the medical supplies Chiron had left there for you. Not much, but enough for now. You could always get more later.

Turning, you finally made your way over to where Luke was hunched over, staring at nothing. When you entered his line of vision, his dark eyes slid up to yours, and he blinked. Then he sighed, straightened his back and gave you a look that said do what you have to do and then get out.

But you didn’t move, not for at least ten seconds. Because while Chiron had told you he was injured extensively, he didn’t mention the five inch long scar that ran down the side of his face, cutting through his eye. It was jagged and gnarly, sharp edges carving a path through his skin. It was red all around, and just from looking at it you could tell it needed work. It was fairly new, but he had left it long enough for it to heal over — a thin layer of skin stopping it from bleeding.

He raised his eyebrows at you impatiently, and you nodded, scooting back to the desk and grabbing what you needed before going back to where he sat.

“I, uh…I need to get closer.” You were afraid to speak, to break the silence of the room, but you did need to get closer to his face. You waited for him to turn slightly to his left, hitch a leg up on the mattress and face his scar in your direction. Instead, he just slid his legs apart, inviting you to step between them.

And so you did, albeit a little shakily. You didn’t know Luke well enough to consider him a friend, but you’d seen enough of him to know that he never acted like this. He was never this quiet — all eyes, slow movements. He was charming, always grinning, always offering a hand. His battle instincts and ADHD made him fidgety like the rest of them, but from where you stood between his thighs, he was as still as a picture. It unnerved you more than the scar on his face did. You’d seen nasty injuries before, you’d never seen this.

You picked up a gauze, doused it in rubbing alcohol, and started wiping the area. You started on the outskirts, but when you pressed over the edge of the injury, his brows twitched and you let out a weak apology before lessening the grip. You kept your breaths thin and your eyes on your hand, but he wasn’t looking at you anyway. He had drifted off again, staring at nothing, and you were scared to break him out of his stupor again.

“He’s a short fuse.” Mr D had said. But he didn’t seem that way right now, sitting back silently and letting you do your work on his face. He wasn’t much of anything, if you had to make an assessment. You really wanted to know what happened on his quest, and why he was gone for so long, but you also didn’t want to test Mr D’s words by asking.

“What happened?” He didn’t say anything, again. You pressed on, “I sort of need to know before I reopen it…just in case something—“

“A dragon.” He murmured at once. His voice was rough, like he’d just been screaming. Maybe he had been, and that’s why Mr D had warned you. But it seemed all his anger had dissipated in the time it took for Chiron to get you and explain the situation. Maybe. “Ladon. Poisonous bites.”

So he had been to the Garden of the Hesperides. Presumably to collect some Golden Apples. What for, you didn’t know. You weren’t going to ask. You just grabbed a scalpel, muttered a quiet, “This is going to hurt.”, and started cutting down the scar, following its path across his cheek.

Luke hissed hard, not expecting you to dive in so suddenly, and his hand reached out for something to grab. That ended up being your camp shirt, bunching at your waist from where he gripped it between his knuckles. You didn’t mind it, but when you put the scalpel down and started to clean the inside of his wound, he adjusted his hand so he was holding the side of your waist instead, eyes clamped shut and feet tapping the wooden floor. You paused momentarily, but you couldn’t let him breathe or else it would just hurt more when you went back to work, so you brushed it off and continued your rampage down his face until the whole wound was free of the dirt and grime he had let accumulate inside it while he travelled back to Long Island.

“Sorry.” You finally built up the courage to say.

“S’Okay.” He breathed, “My fault.”

You wiped it over one last time before taping a bandage over the top. You cut it into two bits so he could still see out of his left eye, before stepping back from between his legs and assessing your work. Once you had deemed it good enough, you picked up your supplies and headed back to the desk, feeling Luke’s hand fall from your side.

“Uh—“ You really wanted to leave the room now, “I know you probably don’t want to talk about it, but how long did you leave—“

“Three days.” He answered quickly. Chiron had probably already asked him that, and you felt stupid for making him repeat it.

You turned to leave, but then remembered what Chiron had said to you before sending you up to Luke’s room. You looked at him.

“Do you need anything from your cabin?” You asked, “It’s, uh, kind of my job to get that, if you do.” You turned to face him fully, “Oh, and are you hungry? Because I have to—“

“Just some clean clothes, thanks.” He quipped. It wasn’t looking like he wanted you around for much longer.

You were quick to leave.

It was hard coming up with an excuse as to why you were stealing clothes from Luke Castellan’s bunk, but you just told them there was a new camper in the Big House and Chiron had run out of spares that morning. They brushed it off, and you ran back up to Luke with the clothes bunched in your arms, and were breathless by the time you dropped them on the bed beside him.

“Did anyone see you?” He asked just as you were about to give him the privacy he needed to change.

You were facing the door when he asked, and turned to answer, but he was already pulling off the marred camp shirt he’d arrived in, revealing his very toned torso. You paused, eyes drifting, but quickly snapped them back up to his awaiting gaze. He didn’t seem to care that he was shirtless in front of you, but neither did most boys.

“No.” You weren’t sure how he would react if you’d told him the truth, even though it was harmless. He nodded and started to unbutton his cargos, and you were quick to turn back to the door and yank it open, “Okay, I’ll…uh, probably be back at…later. Bye.”

The rest of your week was rough to say the least. You had a lot on your plate, and it didn’t help when your siblings kept wondering why you were at the Big House three times a day and why you always made a second plate of food at mealtimes. Eventually, it got around that a new camper had arrived, and you were taking care of them. That's when the rumour mill started running.

“I heard they were older, like twenty or something. Apparently they’re super embarrassed.”

“Well, I heard they were injured super badly on their way into camp, and that’s why nobody’s seen them yet.”

“I heard they got violent when Chiron explained the demigod thing and now they have him locked away in the basement!”

So yeah, lots on your plate. You did little to dispel the rumours, not wanting to allude to the truth accidentally, but when you were the only one who knew the truth, it was difficult to hide from those who wanted it too.

But after a few days, you had developed a routine. Wake up, get breakfast, take food to Luke. Check his dressings while he ate and restock your med supplies if needed. Go to whatever task you were running that day, ignore anyone who asked about the new camper, go for lunch. Take lunch to Luke. Check his dressings. Dismiss curious campers. Go to dinner. Take dinner to Luke. Check his dressings. Dismiss curious campers. Lead the campfire sing-along. Check on Luke one more time. Go to bed.

It was a lot, to say the least. But you didn’t complain — if you did this top secret doctor work right, Chiron might make you cabin counsellor when your older sister Alina leaves after this summer.

And just as you had, Luke eased into the routine too. Every time you entered his room, with a polite knock, he would be perched on the side of his bed, legs open and inviting.

You wondered if he actually did this for you, or if he just never moved from that position.

Sunday morning was slightly different — as camp activities were more relaxed and you had more time on your hands. You strolled slowly to the Big House after breakfast — rather than your usual sprint so you weren’t late to Archery — and knocked politely on the door before cracking it open and heading for the desk. With a plate of food in one hand and a fresh bandage in the other, you made your way over to where Luke sat, readying yourself for another quiet twenty minutes of work. It was quite peaceful, now that you’d gotten used to it. More comfortable, less awkward.

“Hi.”

You blinked, almost dropping what you held, but Luke was there to grab the bandage from your hand as your grip loosened in your shock. He attempted a smile, but winced when it pulled at his scar, and chose to nod at you instead.

“Uh…” You put the plate down into the bedside table, straightening your shirt, “Hi.”

He’d never said hi before.

He didn’t say anything else after that, just let you do what you did, but your mind remained a whirlwind. He said hi. That’s a completely normal thing for him to do, and yet you were reeling from it.

Once you had changed his dressings, you headed for the door and allowed him to eat his breakfast. Your hand wrapped around the metal of the handle and turned it, pulling open the wooden door and stepping one foot into the hall before the voice sounded again.

“Bye.”

You chuckled this time, not looking back, “Bye.”

ii. WEEK TWO

It was an average morning, the blistering sun from last week finally fading and allowing you to walk comfortably outside. You never knew what your dad’s problem with you was last week, but you suspected that it had something to do with the cabin counsellor who slept on the second floor of the Big House with a bandage across his eye.

Like usual, you were heading up the stairs, breakfast plate in hand, ready to give your first checkup of the day. If Luke was healing like he should’ve been, you wouldn’t have to change his dressing at lunch, and you were crossing your fingers that he was.

Pushing the door open with your back, you walked in slowly and headed towards the desk like usual. You grabbed the bandage, made your way over to Luke and put the plate down next to his small lamp. Then you straightened up and put the new bandage under your arm, holding it in place while you moved to unwrap his eye.

Before you could, however, Luke was pulling the bandage from where it was trapped against your ribcage and held it in his own hands. You looked at him, and he gave you a weak smile, “Thought it’d be easier if I held it for you.”

You murmured out a thanks and smiled at him, keeping it there even as you peeled back the old dressings and revealed his still healing scar. Usually, it wouldn’t take this long for a demigod wound to heal itself, but because Luke had gone so long without nectar or ambrosia — or any form of medical help, that is — it was in worse condition. You had to scrape out the infected skin from it a few days back, and it left Luke blinking hard to try and hide the tears.

Nowadays he seemed to be better — not as broody as he seemed last week. But you always caught him drifting off, staring at nothing. You wondered if he was reliving it, asking himself what would’ve changed had he done it differently. Your guess? Not much — you’d read up on Ladon the dragon after finding out it was he who caused Luke’s pain, just in case there was something you needed to know before starting the healing process. He was vicious, not even Hercules could get past him. And while Luke was the best swordsman camp had seen in three centuries, even he would struggle going at Ladon alone.

Once you had redressed his face, you stepped back like you always did, your footfalls sounding out the same metronome as they did three times a day. You wondered if you would wear a mark into the floor from your constant repeating path — door to the desk, desk to the bed, bed to the door. You briefly thought that wouldn’t be possible, something like that would take years to indent, but then you looked back at Luke — his forlorn expression, the bandage across his eye and the bags under’t — and wondered how long it would be before he could build the courage to stand up from the bed, return to a camp that relied so heavily on his skill set, and take the weight of his failure with him.

He pulled the plate onto his lap and you don’t think you’ve ever seen someone look so sad while stuffing their face with bacon.

“Hey, uh —“ You started, hand on the doorframe in an attempt to look casual. You couldn’t just leave him like that, right? “Do you…know — uh, know where the spare practising swords are kept?” A measly excuse, but it had him looking at you again.

He swallowed his food before speaking, “The wooden ones are in these old boxes in the back of weapon storage, but I think the celestial bronze ones are kept in the Hephaestus cabin now.”

You nodded, tapping your hand against the wood. That didn’t work in the way you wanted it to, but you weren’t going to force it. So you turned, went to open the door and leave —

“Why?”

Nevermind!

You whirled around — not too eagerly! You didn’t want to scare him off, now — “Oh! Uh, some Ares kid snapped one in half the other day, we needed a replacement.”

Luke nodded. Shit, say something else. Get him talking!

“Odd weather we’ve been having.”

What?

His lips parted, and he had the gall to look amused, “Really? I hadn’t noticed.”

“Oh, yeah.” You breathed, humiliated. You pressed your lips together, ready to give up, until a thought came to you, “Hey, you haven’t been outside in, like, a week.”

Luke nodded, shadows falling across his face like the mere mention of the fact that he hadn’t been outside was a painful reminder of his circumstances, “Yeah, I, uh, don’t think I want anyone to know that I’m back yet. Not until I’m healed, y’know?”

You knew. You also knew that probably wasn’t the only reason he refused to let anyone know he was safe in the Big House, but you didn’t say that.

“Right, but —“ A breathy chuckle, “You need, like, sunlight. Fresh air.”

“I don’t wanna risk it.”

“Ok.” And that was that. You said goodbye, left him to his own devices, and didn’t mention the sun thing again for two days.

It was on Wednesday that you finally gave in. Now that you’d put the thought in your own head, you kept noticing the effects that being cooped indoors was having on Luke. His skin, once tanned and glistening under the sun, was paling by the hour. He winced whenever he had to straighten his back, and even though his scar was healing nicely, he seemed to be more sensitive to the pain of it than he was a week earlier.

So on Tuesday night you formed a plan, and on Wednesday morning at breakfast you put it into action. It started with asking Lee — ever so casually, of course — what the activities schedule was looking like. He started yapping about their cabin, and you waited patiently for him to bring up the Amphitheatre. Then, when he said the Apollo kids were training at two, you said —

“I thought we trained at twelve on Wednesdays?”

“No, that’s Ares and Hephaestus.”

“Oh, but don’t they train at four?”

“No, Hermes and Athena train at four.”

“Then who trains at ten?”

“Nobody.”

Bingo.

Luke was halfway through pulling on a pair of shorts when you burst into the room. He jumped, yanking them up the rest of the way before turning to look at you — his face was a mix of shock and unbridled anger until he realised it was you, then it softened into something calmer. But you saw him, even for just a split second, and the animosity in his gaze made you take a quiet step back. It was fearful almost — you’d seen him annoyed, irritated. You’d even bore witness to the Carden Cross Hot Cross Bun Incident of 2002,

(Carden Cross was this fifteen year old Ares kid. He threw one too many hot cross buns at the Aphrodite table and a then-sixteen-year-old Luke had wrung him out in front of everyone.

Nobody had ever heard Luke raise his voice like that, and Carden avoided everyone for a week straight).

but you had never seen such indignation in his gaze. It was gone in a flash, and you could’ve told yourself it was never there, but it was. You were hit with the humbling realisation that whatever Luke had gone through on his quest was more damaging than you could ever imagine, and no amount of fresh air would change him back to who he was before.

That saddened you, but then you realised he was shirtless again and all morbid thoughts went straight out the window. You grinned at him, “Sorry. But we don’t have a lot of time.”

He stared at you, then at your hands that were empty of breakfast food or bandages, and asked, “Time for what?”

“For some fresh air!” You sang, throwing in some jazz hands as if they would wipe the hesitant frown that had graced his features, “Put some shoes on, let’s go!”

He said your name softly, “I can’t go outside.”

You straightened up from where you had leaned dramatically into the room and sent him a blank look, eyes still sparkling, “You can. I checked the schedule, the Amphitheatre is free from ten till twelve and it is currently…nine forty-five. If we hurry, we’ll miss the post-breakfast rush.”

Luke looked a little more at ease now, but he made no move to put his shoes on. His body twitched like he was thinking about it, but when he couldn’t come up with a valid excuse to get out of it, he sighed and nodded, “Alright. Doctors orders, I guess.”

“Awesome.” You smiled, “I’ll let you get ready.”

It took some convincing, even after you’d gotten him to follow you down the stairs, to get him out the door. But a few firm words (and a couple of threats) and he was basking in the morning sunlight just as you’d planned.

Well — more like squinting painfully. Turns out, after a week and a half in a dark room, it takes a minute to get used to the sunlight again. You ensured nobody was around and took the long way to the Ampitheatre, letting out a content sigh when you knew you were away from prying eyes. Luke seemed more relaxed already, and you could practically see his muscles getting looser.

“Damn.” He muttered, hand over his eyes, “I needed this.”

“Yeah.” You spoke over an unattractive snort, “I’m an Apollo kid, I know a Vitamin D deficiency when I’m looking at one.”

“Alright.” He rolled his eyes at you, amused, and moved towards the steps. He climbed up two before turning and sitting, leaning back on his elbows and blinking at the sky, “Think your dad made it extra sunny just for me?”

“Probably.” You smiled, standing in front of him — but still making sure you weren’t blocking the sun from his face. “After some convincing from your dad.”

Luke’s smile faded. His eyes remained closed but his hands tightened into loose fists, “I don’t think so.”

Now you were desperate to change the subject. Your eyes darted to the wall, and the rack of swords sitting in its usual spot, “Hey, wanna swing some bronze?”

“Gods.” He let out a rough laugh, and you grinned in satisfaction, “Swinging Bronze. Haven’t heard that in a while.”

You nodded, glad he was back to being somewhat happy, “We thought we were so cool.”

“We thought it’d catch on.”

You shared a laugh, and Luke peeked an eye open, looking at you, “How come we were never friends back then?”

A meek shrug, “We weren’t really friends until a couple of days ago. That's if you even count us as that now.”

He just kept looking at you, and his gaze burned into your skin. You stepped back, closer to the middle of the arena space, “We never really spoke.”

He looked at you as if he was thinking hard about what you said, and what he was gonna say next. Apparently he came up short, because seconds later he was clicking his tongue and pushing himself up, joining you in the middle of the arena, “Alright. Let’s swing some bronze.”

You let out a shaky breath, nodding. This was going well. He was outside, he was laughing, he was about to pick up a sword for the first time since he’d angrily thrown his own at the porch of the Big House when he got back a week and a half ago.

He handed you a wooden practice sword, and you raised a brow. Usually the wooden ones were for first-timers, or younger kids. He shrugged, you let it go.

Despite the fact that you and Luke had been at camp together for five years, you’d never actually gone one-on-one in a sword fight with him. It was rare that Apollo and Hermes were paired together for activities, since they were the two highest populated cabins, but even when Luke was running the practice he always picked the people he knew the best for demonstrations. You lingered at the back, watching.

So you were slightly nervous, but you also didn’t want to show it. Sure, on any normal day Luke would reassure you with kind eyes and that Luke Castellan Smile, but he wasn’t exactly himself right now. You swallowed down your nerves, matched his stance, and swung.

Best Sword Fighter in Three Hundred Years — not an exaggeration. His moves were swift, calculated, and he stayed calm the entire time. It was as if he knew everything you were going to do before you did it, and had three counterattacks on the back burner for when you would strike. Your swords clashed every time you made a move and suddenly you realised why he wanted you to use wooden swords — the clang of wood was a lot quieter than the clang of bronze, it was less likely anyone would hear you fighting. It made sense, but you couldn’t focus on that when he was practically parrying your thoughts with sweat dripping down his temple.

You held your own, though. You were quite impressed with yourself when you blocked his swipes and sidestepped his jabs. It was making him groan in frustration, and the edges of your mouth perked up. You didn’t realise how good you were at this.

Then Luke stumbled. He grunted, righted himself, and swung again. You blocked it, and he steadied his shoulders. You slowed, focusing on the way he heaved for breath, taking in gulps of air, while you were hardly breaking a sweat. The way he kept readjusting his grip on the hilt of his sword, and how his fingers shook on his free hand. He went for you again and you sidestepped him, making him trip up. He didn’t fall, but he did let out a long angry groan at his mistake, throwing the sword to the ground in frustration.

You flinched, “Luke.”

“This was a bad idea.” He snapped. He wasn’t looking at you, pacing up and down with his hands in his hair. “What the fuck is wrong with me?”

“You’re still recovering —“ You tried to reason, but he wasn’t listening to you.

“I’m the best damn swordsman this camp has ever seen. What the fuck is wrong with me? Why can’t I do this? Why —“

“Luke.” You stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. He looked at you, “It’s okay.”

“No it’s not.” He gritted through his teeth, “I fail one quest and suddenly I can’t do anything anymore? Yeah, that’s typical.”

You shook your head, “You just need time to get better.”

“I was better! Better than everyone else here, I —“ He paused, a faraway look in his eyes that unnerved you for a second before he was looking at you again, “I can hear people.”

You perked your ears up. He was right, you could hear the chatter of camp if you listened carefully enough — but it wasn’t anything to worry about. They were all doing their own tasks, far away from where they were. If someone was coming, it would be more clear. You told him that, but he shook his head.

“I need to go back. This was a bad idea.”

“Hey, it’s okay, we can go —“

“No, not we. Me.” He said firmly, a hard look in his gaze that he didn’t have before, “I’m going back. You’re staying here. And I’m never going anywhere with you again.”

iii. WEEK THREE

You hadn’t seen him in five days.

Chiron had pulled you out of Archery to ask about Luke — and why he had seen him storm angrily back into his room and lock the door. You just told him you thought it was best for him to find someone else to take care of him for the time being. You didn’t think Luke would want to see you again, ever.

All you wanted was for him to be his old self again. The guy you always saw helping out someone else with a smile on his face, the one who made others laugh and laughed with them. The one who waved at anyone who waved at him. The one who was completely oblivious to the flirting and just thought they were being friendly. The Luke Castellan who everyone gushed about, who everyone loved.

That man up there, with the scar on his face and the look in his eye, wasn't Luke Castellan. And maybe he never would be again, not completely. But he could come close — he could still smile, he could still laugh.

But you’d fucked all that up just by bringing him outside.

You didn’t know who Chiron had asked to replace you, because you never saw anyone else get up after breakfast with an extra plate. You didn’t see anyone sneaking out of the Hermes cabin with a pile of clothes. You stood in the fields for hours a day, watching those thin curtains stand stiff at the window, never to open. You thought you’d seen a shadow, but maybe it was your mind playing tricks on you.

The weekend came and went, and you spent the whole time worrying about Luke. Did this new person know that he preferred fatty bacon? Did they know that he liked keeping the curtains closed? Or would they just bring him a plate of pancakes? Ask him too many questions about his quest? Your mind whirred — would they make him worse?

No. That’s not what you were scared of.

Would they make him better?

Would they understand him more than you did? Would they coerce more words out of him? Would they even need to coerce him, or would he be comfortable holding a conversation with them no problem? What if he was better now than he ever had been with you?

You flinched when your name was called. Looking up from the bracelet you were crafting with some younger kids and meeting the eyes of Dionysus, “Sir.”

“Our, uh, special guest is requesting your presence.” He said with a stupid look on his face, “So get off your ass and get up there, I can’t stand his whining any longer.”

You did as asked with a slight roll of your eyes that made the six year old who was next to you giggle into their hands. It brought a grin to your otherwise down expression, unsure of what Luke wanted to say to you.

The room was dark when you cracked the door open — there was no response after you knocked, but you could hear him shuffling inside, so you went ahead and opened it an inch. It was a lot darker than it used to be — or maybe you too had gotten used to the shade after spending so much time there.

You pushed it open more, and there he was, in his usual spot on the edge of the bed. Head down, hands fiddling with something by his eye. He was muttering in frustration, and you stepped into the room in concern. The floor creaked, he looked up, and you gasped.

The side of his face where his scar sat was red with blood — you almost missed the bandage he was attempting to tie around it because it had been stained pink. His fingers were shaking and he pursed his trembling lips at you, “I can’t do it.”

You surged forward, immediately taking the fabric from his hands. He let them drop into his lap as you peeled it back and looked at the damage. You winced — not as bad as the blood had made it seem, but bad enough. The wound had reopened at the top, and the blood was dripping into his eye and along the curve of his jaw.

It took a few panicky minutes, but eventually the bleeding had stopped, Luke’s face was clean of blood, and you were staring at him in shock, your own fingers still red from the damage. He was avoiding your eyes, the only other thing he’d said to you being a strained thank you when you had stepped back.

“What —“ You were at a loss.

“I tried to change them myself.” He shrugged, picking at his fingernails, still not looking at you. “I’d watched you do it so many times, I figured I had it handled. Apparently I didn’t, because I woke up and it was freakin’ bleeding everywhere.”

“Oh, Luke.” You breathed, “Why didn’t you wait for someone to help you?”

“You never came back.” He said like it was obvious.

“What — so you’ve been doing this yourself for five days?” You asked, a shocked exclamation, “Chiron never sent someone else to help you?”

“He asked me who I wanted,” He shrugged, “I said you. You weren’t an option, so I did it myself.”

“You said —“

“I know what I said, alright?” He stressed, head in his hands now, “It was stupid. I was angry, hurt, whatever. It was at myself, but I took it out on you. I’m sorry. I don’t — “ His voice cracked, “I don’t know what’s happening to me.”

“Luke.” You murmured. You took a step closer, kneeled before him, and gently pried his hands away from his eyes so he would look at you. His expression was so…sad. So distraught. “What happened on your quest?”

And he told you everything.

iv. THE AFTER

Luke was ashamed to admit it — but he had no idea what your name was when you started looking after him.

Sure, he’d seen you around. You were one of the Apollo kids who spent more time in the infirmary than on the archery fields, but he was too good at his job to get injured. Hence why he didn’t know your name. He knew your face, he smiled at you and you would smile back. He was friendly with your brother, Lee. But that was about it.

That’s what made it so perfect.

You wouldn’t ask him about his quest. You wouldn’t try your hardest to get him to open up. You would do your job, and leave him to mope. That was all he wanted.

Until he learned your name.

And just from glancing at your smile — all awkward and nervous as you introduced yourself — he knew he wanted to be near you. He knew you were the type of person he could sit in silence with and walk away from it with a happy memory.

He thought he knew enough about you to determine who you were to him (a stranger). But he didn’t know your name, your voice, he didn’t know your touch or your smile — the real one you give when someone truly makes you laugh. Not the one he thought he knew.

He stood stiffly on the porch of the Big House — three weeks was all it took before Mr D was kicking him out, telling him to get a grip and face the music. Luke was ready; physically. His scar was nothing but that — a memory, faded into his skin forever. There was no other reason for him to keep himself hidden other than the fact that he wanted to. If it was up to him, nobody would ever bear the burden of seeing him ever again.

For weeks he told himself that his quest was pointless. He screamed it at the gods, at Chiron, at you. He cursed his dad every night for sending him on a path to failure and not even acknowledging it. He cursed himself for ruining the first chance he had at gaining his fathers pride in seventeen years — he sat in the dark, fists clenched, and asked himself what it was all for.

The five years on the run, the endless monster attacks, the relentless training, the offerings, the prayers. Would his life be any better had he just let that first monster kill him?

No. Because he wouldn’t have met Thalia, or Annabeth. He wouldn’t have seen the brighter side of being a halfblood — he wouldn’t have met his siblings, he wouldn’t have found his calling. He wouldn’t have experienced the joy of helping a new camper, of being the guiding hand he never got to hold.

But what of his quest? His mission for his father brought nothing but pain — a pointless trip, a humiliating failure, a deep jagged scar. For weeks he asked himself why he was given the quest in the first place, and for years to come he will question himself each and every day.

But each and every day he asks himself what the gods had ever given him, he would be reminded of the day he learnt your name. And he would tell himself had he not taken that trip, had he not fallen to Ladon, he never would have felt the searing touch of your fingertips on his skin.

So maybe it was worth it after all.

He stepped off the porch.

#the title is a play on words #cos it wasn’t just the physical wounds #get it? #i’ll shut up #luke castellan #percy jackson and the olympians #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #percy jackson

[tarjapearce]

Lips anon! Dark King Miguel and the gentle princess. The original one except Miguel is the king you dread to marry. Even more so when you meet him. He's a hulking man adorned with obsidian armor laced with gold. Cold piercing red eyes. If you weren't terrified, you would have seen how handsome he was, and that his gaze was filled with intrigue rather than hatred.

He takes your hand in armored claws, and kisses it. Now you blush.

You were to spend a good chunk of time in the palace with him until the day of the wedding. At first it's a nightmare because you are with someone who's slaughtered thousands of men, but he's gentle with you. Not exactly kind. But gentle.

Oh oh, imagine she took a little diary with her. She records her time in his lands, and he finds it while snooping in her room (checking for any weapons and such). He reads it and finds quite a bit about her. He rolls his eyes at the passage of her describing her dream man, but he is very intrigued about her wanting a bunch of children. He can give that to her, he wants many heirs too 🤭

Im such a sucker for these sort of tropes :'D ❤️❤️❤️ (Had to write this twice cause Tumblr erased the draft midway 😭😭)

You fretted in your chambers.

Despite the kingdom's overall economy and exterior political relations were thriving, the feeling of wariness set heavyly on your chest. The Queen and King had forbidden your stay at the most recent council's meeting, and when you demanded an explanation, you were met with nothing but silence and pained looks.

"Your Majesty! Come back here! You can't go inside!"

"They are hiding something from me, Lucille. I know it!"

"But you just can't interrupt!" Your maid and friend had been trying to prevent to get in the throne room. She caught your arm and looked solemn for a moment.

"You... You too?"

She shook her head and sighed, pulling you to a more private spot.

"You must be very quiet, ok?" Lucille guided you through a secret little passageway you didn't know the castle had. Hidden in plain sight that took you exactly where you wanted, a small hole on the wall enough for you too take a glimpse of the room.

Sparse, war table on a side, some guards you couldn't recognize stood next to a chair, partially revealing who sat in it. You could only get a small reveal of his arms. Dark skinned, strong arms clad in obsidian and golden that ended in a claw like gauntlet.

"Your Majesty" Your dad spoke, a slight tremor in his voice, "I think we are rushing into conclusions, ser. You'll see our men-"

"I don't want your men, neither your women. My army is more than enough and if I wished, your kingdom would be wiped out at my command."

You father stressed kn his chair as your mother just watched with keen eyes the display of power.

"We might not be a large kingdom, your majesty-"

"You're right, ser. You're like a tiny and annoying stone that got in my greaves, but I have had enough bloodshed for now"

"T-Then what is it you want, your majesty?"

You frowned at the armored man's attitude as dread crept up your bones. His gauntlet curled on his head, pondering as he slicked his soft, wavy and dark locks back.

"Surprise me, your majesty" He sneered the two last words and you swallowed.

"I will give you the most precious thing I possess, your highness." Your mother spoke confidently as her eyes were casted at the man.

"Being?"

"My daughter. The princess."

Lucille gasped and you quickly covered her mouth. His ears perked at the sound and tensed, but ignored it since he just chuckled.

"I came here in order for you to understand why I need the West passage of your borders open, not to get married." He stood and it was yout time to gasp at the size of him. He looked gigantic, your father had to crane his head up to meet his eyes.

"Think about it, your highness." Your mother pressed as she also stood.

"We can't open the passage due to political differences between our Kingdom and Erunia. It's closing wasn't to meddle in your affairs, but more like a preventive solution in our safety, in case an invasion happened. The least of things we would want is another war against a powerful kingdom we know we have no chance against. "

The obsidian clad man seemed to pay attention to your mother's words

"Sure, our Kingdom is thriving again, and economy and politics seem promising, but you must also understand we have nothing much to offer you when we are still recovering from a war. We still mourn, and we are getting on our feet again."

Your throat tightened upon her mentioning mourn. Your brother, the prince had died in battle.

"And for me to offer you, this kingdom's most precious jewel... I'll leave it to your interpretation."

The man seemed to relax slightly. Political things weren't your strength but, you didn't have to be a genius to know that tension had been rising within the neighbor kingdoms. Yours was a small one that served as a bridge among the others. Without you, the rest would collapse bit by bit.

"I offer you protection, in exchange of your daughter."

Tears welled up in your eyes. They were using you like an object. The deal was sealed, and so was your fate.

------

You had refused to see your parents after that, your mother had explained that it was for the kingdom's best interest.

"But what about me? I know that is selfish to think this way but, this is not what I want."

"It's not about what you want, more like what must be done. Your duty as a princess is to see for the people's interest, my dear. Our wishes matter little when the men think it's funny to play war."

"But mother, how could I possibly marry someone like that? Arachne kingdom is ruthless! And so is it's ruler!"

"We had no choice, my dear. Your brother... Im sure your brother would have chosen to try and wage a war against him to keep our autonomy... There is enough bloodshed as it is for now." She cupped your cheeks and kissed your forehead.

"Besides, he is not that bad. He was... civil and wise enough to hear us. And now, thanks to you we have his protection and a new chance of being the kingdom we used to be."

-----------

You were set to depart to Arachne's kingdom within two weeks, and you made sure to enjoy the last bits of your freedom in your home. The wedding was set within 3 months. Or so the dark scroll the mysterious man had sent, said.

And when that day arrived, your carriage departed between sobs, anguish and heartfelt goodbyes. You didn't like the feeling of being seen as a martyr, but it gave your people hope.

----

If you had to describe Arachne's beauty you'd settle for twisted. A contradiction of many types of beauty melded in a single space. The outskirts were full of thorns so thick you thought your carriage would be crushed before even reaching the castle, but the more your caravan approached, the sceneries changed into something less harrowing to a more utopic sort of settling.

Tall towers stood proud in the different cities, but one thing you couldn't help but notice were the elite guards. Mostly clad in a light armor, red and blue, a spider-skull like emblem on their chest. You weren't allowed to bring Lucille with you, a strange petition from this... Miguel King.

Miguel O'Hara. Ruler of Arachne. Commander of an elite force with abilities that surpassed the common guard forces. Many said it was his secret to get him where he was. Despite the rumors about the kingdom being desolated and hunger stricken, witnessing the opposite with your own eyes made your heart a little hopeful.

After all he had sent a small crew of four to guard you during the trip. A blonde girl with a left side of her head shaven, a tall dark young man with braids on each side of his head slicked back with a look that pierced your soul, Another black man with many perforations in his face, with the strangest hairdo you had seen in someone, and their commander. A tall, black slender woman with a red and obsidian armor. None of you talked during the trip. But the pierced face young man and the blonde girl offered you small, almost sympathetic smiles your way.

----

Your arrival at the castle was announced. Your four escorts guided you to the main hall and kneeled before the man you had only caught a minimal glimpse of. Red eyes regarded your form, clad in a emerald green with golden trims dress.

You could notice his eyes widening just slightly as you entering the room. And then he stood. Your breath was caught in your throat and just as your father, you had to crane your head up to meet his eyes. Captivating yet full of unspeakable things. But you were certain, hatred wasn't one of them, rather wonder. He stared at you with mild curiosity.

You revered before him.

"Princess (Name) of Theleria, at your service, my lord." Sweet and soft spoken. A stark contrast of his overall aura. He noticed the small tremor in your hands and chuckled.

"Welcome, Princesa." Despite his imposing and intimidating looks, his royal etiquette shone through.

"Make yourself at home" Or so it did it's best. He returned to his work. He wasn't much for words as you were escorted to your own chambers. You certainly were swooned by the place grandeur and the elite force you had heard so much.

"Your Majesty sends his apologies, he won't be able to meet you during dinner. Would you like to eat on your chambers, or in the dining hall?" The man wore another red and blue armor, you had noticed that only commanders wore a certain type of armor.

"In my room, ser. Thanks."

He nodded with a smile and left. Your room was enormous, easily mistaken for a whole wing. You had dinner in your room.

--------

"Where is she?"

"In her room. She preferred to eat inside."

"Hm." Miguel hummed as he spreaded some map before him. Peter looking at him.

"Want me to arrange a tea meeting with her?"

Miguel's nose scrunched and he shook his head.

"Make it a lunch. I don't like tea."

"I know, coffee guy. You think her parents will keep their word?"

"They better, if not, we'll wipe them."

"Wouldn't that be harrowing for your future bride?"

Miguel arched an eyebrow at him

"Merely political affairs."

"She's pretty"

"Hm and gentle. You know what happens to gentle people."

"They get an arranged marriage with a ruthless belicist of a king." Peter couldn't help but giggle at his mortified expression.

"One more-"

"And I'm out. I know, I know pal. Get some rest. Your eyebags are packing for vacation already" Peter smiled at his annoyed sigh, then left him be.

-----

The lunch never came, as you were stood up, again. You had expected much, after all it was an arranged marriage, of course the desire of knowing eachother just for pretense was only in your imagination. However you had noticed that his gaze lingered on you for more than he actually let on.

You had been sorted through the city, to meet it's people, and so far mostly looked happy? Children ran around a fountain, merchants exposed and sold their goods, art supplies and a small leathery notebook, caught your attention. The extense array of colors had you grinning and marveling at things you had never seen before. Charcoals, complete drawing kits, turpentine, canvas made out of the richest materials.

Arachne's people were kind, welcoming and it just made you wonder how such kind of people had a blood thirsty man for a king? Not that he intentionally waged wars just for fun and giggles. Peter watched you with a lazy smile, occasionally recommending things to try. He and the blonde girl, whose name happened to be Gwen, we're kind enough to answer each of your questions. You didn't dare to ask about Miguel. He seemed too busy to be disturbed and by the way his face was always set in a permanent frown, made you wonder how would things would be in your wedding day.

He was aloof, too buried in his own world of War and battles. You couldn't help but nod with an absentminded expression at Peter saying he won't be for dinner either.

"Of course." That's all you uttered before you returned to the castle and retreated to your room. Your chest constricting tightly.

-----------

"You know, getting any sort of contact with her wouldn't hurt you." Peter spoke as he was polishing his gauntlets.

Miguel remained silent, eyes too focused on the scroll before him.

"How was the trip?"

"She was like a kid in a candy store when we stopped in an art shop."

"Something she liked?" Peter smiled and scrubbed the wax away from the gauntlet

"Paintings and art supplies. She loved the cherry pie and couldn't stop marveling at how dreamlike the city looked"

"Hm. Her kingdom is... small. Nothing much to look around. Anyways, get her what she liked. "

"Beg your pardon?" Peter blinked at him

"Told you to get her what she liked."

"Of course. "

-----

The following days you were either holed up in your bedroom, or in the gardens making small talk with the servants. They seemed good and easygoing people, and it kept you from giving into the loneliness feeling that seemed to loom over your head with each passing day.

Sometimes you'd caught glimpses of him, a small group of elite soldiers tailing behind him in scary synchronization. Your eyes would meet for seconds, but he'd just look away and continue his work.

At this point you knew what the apologetic look on Peter or Gwen meant. He wasn't showing up.

"I'm sorry."

"Have I done something to... upset him this way? To the point of him maybe finding my company repulsive? "

Peter seized you with a frown.

"I know he is a busy man, wars don't wage on their own, I know much. But..." You shook your head and sighed, "Nevermind that. I'm just being pretentious. Bid you a good evening, ser Peter."

You bowed to him and left to your room. You had refused kindly your dinner.

---------

The next day a couple of guards entered your room as you were writing a letter for your parents. They saluted Peter and left.

"Your Majesty." He bowed and guided your to the medium sized wooden box.

"A gift from the king" Your eyes widened in surprise, your cheeks growing a bit warmer.

"Thank you, ser Peter." You smiled and rummaged through its contents, small squeal upon looking at the leathery notebook you had seen before. Peter left and you wasted no time into enjoying your gift.

Papers, watercolors, oil paints, colored waxes, painting brushes, paint remover, it felt like a dream. Your chest felt giddy at the idea that showed up in your mind.

-----

You gave Peter a small box with something you had done.

"Ser Peter?"

"Yes, your majesty?"

"Could you give this to the King?" You handed him a small velvet pouch. A small canvas in it.

"Do you think he would like it?"

"I'm sure he will, your majesty" Peter smiled.

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

Miguel took the pouch suspiciously, but his eyes widened at the small painting of himself with a small piece of scroll. A fancy and curvy scribblings on it

Thank you for your kindness, my lord.

Your penmanship impeccable, years of princess etiquette and training reflected on it. his lips curved a bit. You had gotten a good angle of him.

---------

He snuck in your room as you had gone to the city with Peter and Gwen again. This time, the man with the pierced face came along.

He didn't expect it to be so you. Paintings you did, dried on the window, drawings of things that caught your interest the most; cherries, birds, nature, and kids. Not that he didn't trust you, he just wanted to see with his own eyes what you had done so far with his gift.

He was glad to find you hadn't wasted it at all. The leathery book however made him to pick it up. It was your own diary. His hands carefully flipped the pages, reading into his contents.

A drawing of him with the caption "king of Arachne and quite aloof." the latter in small letters. He sighed and flipped the pages.

The bakery man is such a gentleman! And his pies so scrumptious.

He chuckled at the little pie drawing you did. He found more descriptions in what seemed to be this type of ideal man for you. He rolled his eyes. But the last lines of the pages caught his interest the most.

After losing my brother, it has come to my thinking. I would love a big family on my own.

You wanted kids. Heirs.

The steps outside alerted him as he tossed the diary back on your bed, and soon you'd enter through the door. The way your eyes looked at him with surprise made his heart to flutter softly. He had met rivals in the battlefield, all giving him a horrifying look, begged him to not come closer. But never he had someone to look at him like you were.

His eyes softened as he walked over you. Lips pressed together, you bowed.

"My lord."

He bowed too, adding more wide at your surprise.

"Enjoying your gift?".

"Very much. Thank you." His thank you gift came into mind.

"Did you... receive mines?"

"Of course."

"Did you like?"

Sweet face looked at him, expectantly. His pulse quickened.

"Si." He mumbled and you looked at him confused for a second.

"I'll take it as a yes?" You smiled.

So so sweet.

He relaxed.

"I'll see you in the dining hall."

"Oh?"

To your surprise he looked at you as he took your hand and kissed the back of your soft palm.

"Don't be late". He left.

#miguel o'hara #t writes✨ #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x reader #atsv miguel #royal au #arranged marriage #💋 anon #loved this so much ♡ #asks and replies

[turcott3]

safety net

jack hughes x fem! reader

warnings?: cursing, semi slow burn, a kiss, angst and some fluff ofc

positions masterlist!

~trippin’ fallin’ with no safety net~

-

you made your way into the bar, as it was your first weekend living in jersey. you walk in and head straight to the counter, asking for a drink that was sweet and didn’t taste too strongly of alcohol.

“hey stranger.” a voice says to your right and you turn your head.

“dawson?” you say, your eyes widening.

“hey y/n.” he says opening his arms for you to hug him, which you gladly accept.

“how have you been? oh my gosh it’s been what like 3 years.” you say smiling at your old school friend.

“i’ve been good, playing hockey here is fucking awesome.” he says.

“yes! that’s right you play for the devils, how could i forget you getting drafted!” the two of you laugh.

“well how’s your boyfriend? haven’t seen him in a few years either.” he asks curiously.

“funny you should ask, i broke up with him and that’s why i moved here.”

“wait really? why? you don’t have to explain if you’re not comfortable.” the brunette boy asks leaning on the counter.

“well things were so great when we started dating our senior year but within the last year he became a real fucking asshole, so i broke it off and moved away so he couldn’t try to find me and sucker me into being with him again.” you explain, leaving out any details you weren’t ready to share.

“well shit, i’m sorry y/n. i bet that hurt a lot.”

“it did but i’m over it, ready to find someone else.” you say and you practically see the light bulb turn on over his head.

“i think i have someone i want you to meet.” he smirks. you grab your drink and follow close behind him, holding onto his arm.

“hey jack!” dawson says to a brunette boy with bright blue eyes.

“what’s up daws, who’s this?” he says looking at you. you release dawson’s arm and give him a smile.

“jack this is y/n, y/n this is jack.” he says looking between you two.

“nice to meet you, jack.” you say.

“yeah, you too.” he smiles, causing a blush to burn in your cheeks.

“i have to go to the bathroom, you two have fun. don’t get too drunk.” he says giggling and walking off to the bathroom.

“so y/n, what brings you to jersey?” he asks.

“just needed a change of scenery from my hometown. dawson and i went to highschool together.” you tell him.

“oh wow, small world. are you still new to living here or?”

“yeah this is only my first weekend but i’m glad im already meeting people, it was getting pretty lonely.” you laugh.

“well now that you’ve reconnected with dawson, you have a whole new group of people to hang out with.”

“oh are you guys like on the same team?” you ask.

“yeah we are, my brothers around here somewhere. probably tongue deep in some random girl.” he laughs.

“is he older or younger?”

“younger.” he says taking a sip of his drink.

“oh nice.” you smile doing the same.

“can i get your number?” he asks.

“yeah of course.” you say as he hands you his phone.

“what have i missed?” a tall, curly haired boy asks.

“ah yes, y/n, this is my brother luke.”

“nice to meet you.” you say.

“nice to meet you too.” he replies.

“so where were you?” jack asks as i hand him his phone back.

“i was talking to john but i didn’t wanna ruin his game so i came back.” he laughs.

“johnny getting some ladies?”

“he sure was.” luke laughs, taking a sip of his beer.

“i see you’ve met the other one.” dawson says returning from the bathroom.

“yes i have.” i laugh at him. you spent the next 2 hours with the boys, enjoying their presence and the fact that you’d made some friends in your new town.

“well i think im gonna call it a night.” you say taking the final sip of your drink.

“let me walk you?” jack asks.

“yeah sure.” you accept and the two of you make your way out of the bar.

“did you walk here or drive?” he asks stopping once you made it outside.

“oh i walked, i live like two blocks away.”

“okay cool, show me the way.” he says.

“jack you don’t have to.”

“i’m not letting you walk back to your apartment by yourself at midnight in a big city y/n.” he says firmly.

“oh, thank you.” you blush and begin your walk to your apartment. the walk was filled with small talk and laughter, the chemistry between you two growing more and more with seemingly every step.

“well this is my place.” you say arriving at your door.

“alright, have a good night y/n. i’ll text you.” he says as you pull him in for a side hug.

“goodnight jack.” you say shutting the door behind you. it’s been 5 days and you already have a crush on someone you just met. it felt almost wrong. you had broken up with your boyfriend just two weeks ago. you couldn’t allow yourself to move on too quickly. your phone buzzed in your back pocket and you see that dawson had texted you.

dawson: glad you made it back safe!

y/n: thank you! except really you can thank jack

dawson: hahaha well i guess so🙄 have a good night y/n

y/n: you too, see you again soon?

dawson: yes for sure, season starts in like a month and a half i’m sure you’ll get sick of seeing me

y/n: doubt it

dawson: only bc ill bring jack

y/n: bitch

dawson: i’m messing with you lmaooooo goodnight y/n

y/n: goodnight daws😭

-

you woke up the next morning to a text from jack saying good morning, to which you replied with a simple, good morning. texting a new guy felt so wrong. you didn’t know what to do about it but you couldn’t ghost him so you figure you should just keep chatting and see what happens.

“lunch?” you say reading his next text. the boy asked you to lunch, to which you hesitantly agreed to join him. you made yourself a small breakfast to tide you until lunch. you sat on the couch watching tv, growing more nervous by the second. he didn’t ask you on a date, just lunch. maybe he just wants to be friends? after you ate, you put on a casual outfit and added a natural touch to your makeup. he texted the address and you left your apartment, hoping to arrive after him. once you arrive at the, what appears to be, small coffee shop, you’re greeted by jack smiling at the counter.

“sorry i’m a little late.” you laugh nervously.

“no don’t worry, i was just about to order. what do you want?”

“oh jack you don’t have to pay i can’t wait in line.” you say.

“now what kind of man would i be to let a pretty girl like you wait in line and pay for her own food?” he says boldly, a blush creeping up on your cheeks.

“an iced vanilla latte and a buttered croissant is good then.” you simply reply, finding a seat at a table by a large window. he meets you soon after, with a table number in his hand.

“you ever been here before?” he asks, noticing you staring out the window.

“i haven’t, i didn’t even know it was here until you told me about it.” you say redirecting your attention to the boy who already had his eyes on you.

“i come here sometimes, it’s like my special little spot for special occasions.” he smiles leaning back in his chair.

“what’s so special about this occasion?” you question, wanting real answers.

“it’s our first date.” he smirks causing your face to burn bright red.

“well i guess it is isn’t it.” you laugh.

-

once you arrive back at your apartment, you throw your purse to the side and kick off your shoes.

“what have i done? what do i do? oh fuck me, i can’t do this.” you say, that piece of your heart never healing from your past relationship. you couldn’t let go of the mistrust you felt. you never wanted to make the same mistake again, so you called dawson.

“hello?” you speak when he picks up.

“hey y/n, what’s up?”

“can you come over, i need advice.”

“yeah of course, send me your address and i’ll be there.”

“thank you so much, bye daws.” you say hanging up and sending him your address. you sat on your couch almost in a panic. you told yourself over and over to not do this again, especially this soon. a short 10 minutes later, you hear a knock on your door and you open it to see dawson standing there in his sweats.

“did i wake you from a nap?” you laugh.

“yes actually you did, but it’s okay, what’s up?” he says stepping in and shutting the door behind him.

“jack is what’s up.”

“oh?” he says plopping down on my couch.

“so we went out to lunch, he called it our first date.” you say.

“okay what’s the problem with that?” he says.

“you’re not understanding, my ex and i broke up what 3 weeks ago? i can’t move on, how do i know i can trust him?”

“y/n, jacks a nice guy, i wouldn’t have introduced you two if i thought otherwise.”

“i just think it’s too soon dawson.”

“relax, calm down, chill out.” he says standing up and placing his hands on your biceps.

“how am i supposed to be calm?”

“y/n, no one is rushing you into a relationship. you are not committed to the guy, you went on ONE date. you aren’t married to him, just relax. i know it’s hard, i don’t know all the details of your break up but obviously you let your mistrust cloud your vision of good people. i wouldn’t let you go down a dark rabbit hole, and you know that.” he says calming your nerves. dawson always had a way of getting to you and calming you down when necessary, even though it had been years since you last saw the boy.

“okay you’re right.” you say sighing.

“and you don’t have to worry, he’s leaving to go to michigan for a couple days tomorrow, so you can spend time away from him and just texting, so you can get to know him better without it being to serious for you.” he adds.

“perfect.” you laugh.

“now why don’t we chill out and watch a movie, you’re clearly stressed and i want you to clear your mind.” he states, grabbing the remote and switching on the tv. after a couple hours, dawson heads home, leaving you alone with nothing but your phone.

jack: hey i’m headed to michigan tmrw morning, hang when im back?

y/n: yes for sure!

jack: ok awesome, see you then

y/n: *loved a message*

you sat with your thoughts. you were terrified of the possibilities with jack, you couldn’t help it. it’s like your brain had been hardwired to push him away, but you fought the urge harder than anyone could ever know.

-

it had been about two weeks and jack returned from his trip a few days ago. the two of you have been texting nonstop. you learned the silly facts about each other and his personality shined through even on text. he was beginning to give you that glimpse of hope that you thought you’d lost for good.

“i just don’t know.” you spoke to dawson through the phone.

“he’s never texted a girl this long, he obviously likes you.”

“well you never know.”

“he has had women throw themselves at him and he’s rejected all of them. don’t you see it.”

“i do but i just don’t know if it’s the best idea.”

“y/n, just give it another go. go on another date with him. you won’t regret it, you and i both know that as much as you don’t want to admit that your crush is more than just a silly little crush.”

“god, daws you always know how to pick my brain what is wrong with you?” you laugh.

“um nothing, im just correct.” he scoffs.

“okay whatever, ill call him tonight okay?” you reply hoping it’ll shut him up.

“i’m holding you to it, so you better.”

“whatever mercer.”

-

“hello?” you hear a muffled jack on the other end of the line.

“hey jack, i was wondering if maybe you’d wanna go out again some time? i had a great time with you.”

“yeah absolutely!”

“does tomorrow work?” you ask, holding your breath.

“yeah i don’t have any plans. ill come pick you up at 1?”

“perfect.” you smile to yourself.

“i’ll see you tomorrow y/n.”

“bye jack.” you say hanging up the phone, wanting to scream with excitement. you had no clue how this could feel the way it does so soon after your breakup.

-

2 months later

“hey,” jack says shaking you awake.

“huh.” you groan opening your eyes.

“i have a skate to go to, ill be back okay?” he says, you fully processing your surroundings.

“oh, yeah okay. have fun.” you smile as he leans down to kiss you on the cheek. you’d stayed the night at his house just like you have for a few nights every week since your second date though you never established a label for your relationship, just placing the boyfriend name tag on him when you’re out by yourself, too afraid to use it around him. the idea of him leaving you to skate sucked, and you shoved down these feelings so they wouldn’t get in the way of anything. you never wanted him to leave your sight. you hated that you’d grown so attached. you pulled out your phone to call dawson, always filling him in with updates.

“hey miss hughes, what you up to?” he asks picking up.

“dawson stop,” you laugh, “i just woke up, jack just left for optional skate.”

“oh that’s funny i’m on my way there now.”

“i’m sure he’ll ive you all the details.”

“yeah he always does but you’re gonna tell me what’s going on in that little brain of yours first.”

“i hate when he leaves dude. i hate it. i feel like i have no right to be this attached. being around him makes me so fucking happy, it’s like all my problems disappear when he’s around. but i need to face it, he probably doesn’t even want me.”

“you’re lying but go on.”

“lying about what?”

“you really think he ever keeps girls around this long if he doesn’t wanna be with them? be for real with yourself y/n.” he says plainly.

“okay well, point is, i’ve grown attached and i don’t understand my feelings daws.”

“i think you love him.” he laughs.

“you’re crazy.” you scoff.

“did you listen to anything you just said?”

“what part?”

“god damnit, think before you speak y/n. the way you feel when you’re around him is love. practically in its exact definition.”

“it’s only been 3 months that i’ve known the guy.”

“bitch do you really think love has a timeline?”

“well n-“

“THEN GO GET HIM.”

“i’m not gonna go, he’s skating.”

“i meant it figuratively, just wait for him to come back and see how different you feel compared to talking to me on the phone. don’t leave. don’t panic and push him away y/n. give him a shot.”

“okay okay, ill talk to you later dawson.”

“alright, bye y/n.” he says hanging up abruptly. you knew deep down that he was probably right and you couldn’t admit it to yourself. you sat on his couch for a few hours, waiting to hear the lock turn again, when suddenly it did.

“oh hey, you’re still here? i thought you’d be gone by now.” he laughs, hanging his keys on the hook.

“no i wanted to stay, your couch is cozy.”

“well i’m glad you’re still here.” he says, kissing you on top of the head as he passed behind the couch. dawson was right, you felt giddy when jack entered the room, and the feeling didn’t settle. he returns back to the living room.

“you look like you’re thinking.” he says sitting down next to you. you sit up and turn to him.

“i am thinking.” you say, anxiety running through your body at full speed, knee bouncing.

“what’s on that pretty mind of yours?” he giggles placing a hand on your leg gently.

“i think i love you.” you say quietly, the words slipping off your tongue with struggle. you finally let yourself trip and fall. it felt almost freeing. his demeanor shifts as a smile grows on his face. he sits up to get closer to you.

“what was that?” he asks, smile growing wider.

“i think i love you. no no, i do. i do love you. i love you jack. i know we never attached a label to whatever we are but i can’t keep pushing my feelings away anymore. i just love you.” you say finally being able to lock eyes with him. he connects your lips in response, framing your cheek with his callused hand. when you pull away his gorgeous smile returns.

“fuck, i love you too y/n.” he laughs, a wave of relief washing over you. you couldn’t believe how jack changed your perspective on love and men so quickly but it never felt more true to you. you couldn’t deny your feelings anymore no matter how hard you tried. you finally let yourself fall, and thank god it was into the right hands this time.

-

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