#this is also supremely old this is like WELL over a year old

[cozylittleartblog]

New Family Speedrun 00:09.12 (World Record Not Clickbait???)

#deltarune #queen #lancer #rouxls kaard #comic #art #doodles #SDFJKHJKDHSF THIS IS STUPID i said it on discord at like 2AM and then went Wait Thats Funny Actually #and u know what It Is #they're both the wife actually #this is also supremely old this is like WELL over a year old #queenkaard #my art #are you guys enjoying me clearing out my drafts. i hope u are. ancient artwork... now go look at my etsy im posting sooooo much stuff 2day

[rebelfell]

bells will be ringing

crush!Steve Harrington x fem!Reader x fwb!Eddie Munson

The annual Harrington Christmas Party is an elegant affair, complete with decorations, fancy food and flowing libations. But when your friend-slash-fuck buddy Eddie tires of you and Steve dancing around your burgeoning feelings for one another…he offers a creative solution. 8k 18+, MDNI

cw: MMF, allusions to poverty and implied family strife, light alcohol and weed use, kinda mean/crass Eddie, semi-public fingering/oral (fem receiving), r’s hair gets pulled once.

The Harrington’s were white light people.

There wasn’t a single inch of their stately home not adorned in festive finery for their annual Christmas party. It was all silver candlesticks with cream-colored tapers, deep red ribbons tied into bows and hung at perfectly spaced intervals, long garlands of rich greenery draped along the banisters—real as shit and smelling like a goddamn pine forest.

It was a far cry from what you and Eddie knew growing up next door to one another way on the other side of town. For you two, it was scrawny and half-dead trees purchased at a discount as close to Christmas as possible when their vendors were just trying to unload them, covered in a hodgepodge of homemade ornaments and faded multicolored lights, only about half of which worked half the time. When your families could afford a tree, that was.

The Harringtons’ own stood at the far end of the house, glowing bright as a nuclear reactor with seemingly endless strands of bright white lights wound around its branches. It was methodically decorated with matching red, silver and gold baubles, each one hung precisely in place and polished to gleaming perfection. 

Elegant. Proper. Pristine.

The party was already well underway by the time you arrived, Steve nowhere to be found in the sea of people. They all stood together in clumps, exchanging jovial smiles that pushed up rosy cheeks, the women cooing over each other's outfits and jewelry while the men swapped stories about their quarterly earnings. Weaving through the throngs, cater waiters floated past carrying trays loaded with hors d’oeuvres and tall glasses of shimmery, bubbly liquid.

It made you and Eddie glance around, furtive and unsure as you skulked into the foyer. The two of you might as well have been invisible for all the attention anyone paid you.

“See Steve anywhere?” you asked, peering deeper inside the house.

The former stud of Hawkins High had always been easy to spot in the hallways of his former domain, seemingly towering over everyone even after he stopped sporting that gravity-defying bouffant hairstyle. Those days were long gone now, but an occasional glimmer of his old self would still shine through, reminding you of when King Steve reigned supreme.

“Nope, nowhere,” Eddie grumbled. “I told you this was a mistake.”

His warm breath on your ear as he leaned in to whisper in it had your head snapping to the  side. Some of the snow that had just started to fall outside dusted his dark, unruly curls and he still had his hands stuffed in the pockets of his leather jacket, as though he wanted to be ready to turn heel and run at the first opportunity. You’d seen him look more relaxed about to shoplift.

“What do you mean?” 

“Look around, sweetheart. See if you can spot what doesn’t belong.”

It was kind of irritating how right he was. Everyone else in attendance tonight looked perfectly at home in this pretty picture. It was all business partners and their wives, clients who probably made more in a year than you or Eddie would hope to see in your entire lifetime, other miscellaneous friends and fellow members of the Hawkins upper echelon.

To call you fish out of water would be putting it lightly. You were like fish on a space station.

“What were we supposed to do?” you whispered back. “We had to come.”

That was debatable. Steve had invited you, yes, but he also practically tripped over himself to assure you it was totally fine if you couldn’t make it. He’d sat on the edge of Eddie’s sofa running through all his most blatant tells—hands pushing through his hair, thumb and forefinger pinching the bridge of his nose, foot jiggling non-stop—as he told you about the party.

“It’s all my parents' friends, so it might be kind of lame. But I’m allowed to invite people if you guys want to come. It’d be really great to see you.”

He’d worked himself up into such a state, it almost felt cruel to say no. You weren’t sure what it was—something about the earnestness with which he asked, and the way his eyes shone so hopefully when you smiled and told him you thought it sounded like fun.

Eddie’s gruff voice sounded in your ear again.

“Think we’re just here to piss off daddy?”

You followed his eyeline to the living room, gaze promptly drawn to the imposing frame of John Harrington as he reached out to grip the hand of someone important. Or at least someone who seemed to think they were. Even never having seen or met him before, he was easy to pick out as Steve’s father. They had the same square jaw, the same perfectly angled nose and rich, light brown hair. Although, John’s was cut shorter and tamed into a much more manageable style than his son’s long locks that lived in a near-constant state of tousled messiness.

“Steve wouldn’t do that,” you said firmly. “He asked us to come because we’re his friends.”

The words still felt strange to say. It made you wonder, yet again, if it would ever stop feeling so surreal that you now hung out with Steve “The Hair” Harrington on an almost daily basis.

When you were in school together, you never even landed on his radar. Eddie had some notoriety as the town’s supposed demon summoner, but you were just…around. A plain face that blended into the crowd; a background extra with no lines in the scene; wallpaper and set dressing for the popular kids who were living out their exemplary lives.

If this was only a few years prior, he probably would be spending this evening sneaking drinks with Tommy H. and Carol, or parading around with Nancy Wheeler on his arm to show her off to all his dad’s colleagues and brag about her getting into Emerson. Instead, his falling out with all of them and his subsequent fall from his high-school throne had led him here—to an unlikely friendship with The Freak and The Invisible Girl.

Whenever he came over to Eddie’s to smoke, or you three piled into his car to go to the movies or drive the winding back roads that snaked along the edge of town, it almost felt natural. And the more time you spent with him, the harder and harder it became to remember why he’d always seemed so…untouchable.

“So, what should we do?” You wondered aloud as you glanced around again, still hoping Steve might materialize somehow. Behind you, Eddie’s head shook and his shoulders shrugged.

“How should I know? You were the one begging to come tonight.”

“I wasn’t begging.”

“Oh, really?” He scoffed as he leaned in close again, raising the pitch of his voice in an overly breathy imitation of you. “Please, Eddie? Please, can we go to the party? I’ll let you eat me out from the back if you—”

“Stifle,” you hissed, jamming your elbow into his stomach.

He grunted at the sharp jab, but his lips remained curled in a sly smirk. “What’s wrong? Worried your little crush will find out what I’ve been doing to you after he goes home?”

“I don’t care if he knows,” you sniped. It’s almost convincing, but the flash of alarm in your eyes told a different story. Not that it mattered, Eddie didn’t buy it for a second anyway.

“Well, that’s good,” he tutted. “Because he already knows we’ve fucked.”

“Wait, what?” You whirled around fully now. “How?”

“He, ahh…” Eddie fought to contain his grin as he scratched at the short stubble on his cheek. “He saw that picture you let me take.”

Your eyes went wide, both horrified and enraged as you shoved his shoulder—hard. 

“You showed it to him?”

“No, he found it,” Eddie hissed. “We were looking around for some weed I had stashed and he happened to open the drawer it was in.”

Your whole body—your very being—surged with white hot shame. If it wouldn’t have given Eddie so much satisfaction, you might have run straight out of the party right then and there. The thought of Steve seeing you like that…

It was almost unbearable.

The details of you and Eddie’s attachment had always been strictly under wraps. You weren’t exactly keeping it a secret, per se, but most people weren’t super accepting of the idea and you’d learned to play it close to the vest. And with how much time the two of you had started spending with Steve, you didn’t want to risk making him uncomfortable.

It had been going on for ages. Pausing, albeit briefly, if one of you found yourself in a relationship, and picking right back up when said relationship inevitably fizzled or if it tipped into the dangerous territory of getting too serious. He was one of the few people in your life you trusted intrinsically, and it wasn’t like guys were banging down your door as it was.

The picture was a one-time thing—a polaroid you’d let Eddie snap as a belated birthday present because you’d been too busy to find him something real.  You had made him swear upon pain of death it was for his eyes only. And now he’d shown it to the last person on earth you wanted to see it? Oh, you were going to garrotte him with tinsel in his sleep.

Also, Steve wasn’t your crush. He was…a preoccupation. A distraction. A vague interest.

You couldn’t even say for sure when it had begun. All you knew was just last spring, there was a month of Friday evenings where you found yourself back in the Hawkins High parking lot pulled in alongside Steve’s distinctive maroon beemer. He was leaning on the hood, waiting for Hellfire to let out so he could drive home his little horde of nuggets, and you had shown up acting as Eddie’s ride while his van was out of commission.

And that night, for the first time ever, you had a real conversation with Steve Harrington.

A fairly illuminating one, at that.

There was a sweetness to him you never would have guessed was there. And a dorkiness that brought light to his eyes when he did his elaborate handshake with Dustin Henderson, or the way he exalted along with the kids when the group burst through the double doors leading out of the school, whooping and cheering from a successful campaign. It warmed your whole body from the inside out, the feeling only growing stronger the more time you shared.

And now he’d seen your bare tits covered in Eddies cum. Perfect, just perfect.

“You’re such an asshole,” you muttered through gritted teeth. “That’s so humiliating.”

“I don’t know,” Eddie said, his eyes glinting with mischief. “I think he kinda liked it.”

“He…he did?”

“I mean, he was staring at it pretty hard. I think he needed some alone time with it.”

You rolled your eyes and gave his shoulder another shove for good measure, muttering a you're disgusting at him under your breath, hoping it would hide the nerves creeping across your face. Unfortunately, it only seemed to add fuel to Eddie’s fire. He leaned in one last time, his voice a gritty rasp in your ear that made shivers run down your spine.

“So you don’t wanna know what he said, then?”

Tension seized your shoulders as you glared at him, jaw clenched, ready to spit back a vicious comment—or maybe just spit—only to stop short at the sound of a familiar voice.

“Hey, guys! I’m so glad you made it!”

Steve was beaming as he came over, his bright hazel eyes shining, the golden flecks in them brought out by the color of his sweater. He drew you into his embrace, his strong arms curling securely around your body and his gourmand scent filling your nose as you breathed him in.

Your hands smoothed over the planes of his back, relishing in the softness of the knit he wore and the solidity of his broad chest pressed against yours. Your pulse quickened, blood pounding in your ears as you did your level best to force what Eddie had just told you out of your head.

“I’m the coat check tonight,” Steve explained, tipping an imaginary cap. “There’s a guest room upstairs we can put them in.”

“I gotta take a leak,” Eddie said, already shrugging off his leather jacket and pushing it into your arms. “Take care of that for me, will you sweetheart?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, but Eddie just grinned back at you with a suggestive bounce of his brows behind his curled bangs. Steve pointed him in the direction of the bathroom and then turned straight back to you as he tilted his head upstairs.

“Shall we?” he asked.

The sounds of the party became distant and muffled as Steve led you upstairs to the designated dumping ground for all the furs and wraps of the numerous guests. It was dark inside, lit only by the moonlight that streamed through the window and the warm glow of the lights strung on the outside of the house that cast across the heap of coats on the bed.

You laid Eddie’s jacket down on a chair in the corner before you began to undo the belt of your own tied around your waist. As the thick, gray poly-blend slid off your shoulders, you shivered at the cool air hitting your heated skin for the first time that night.

When you turned back around, Steve was much closer than you remembered. 

His eyes studied you with a kind of reverence that made your body tingle with excitement in a way you didn’t dare to name. The way he looked at you sometimes…whether it through a haze of pot smoke in Eddie’s trailer, or in the flickering light of a screen at the multiplex, or beneath the harsh amber wash of a single streetlight in an empty parking lot…

It made you wonder.

“You look really nice,” he finally said, his voice as soft as his eyes.

The dress you’d worn was fairly simple, made of maroon velour with a burnout pattern of leaves you thought looked a bit like holly. It was loose and flowy, but had laces in the back you had pulled tight so it cinched in your waist and pushed up your chest, not unlike a corset. The neckline was just low enough to flirt with impropriety and it nicely complimented the length of the pendant that sat in the center of your clavicle.

A dainty (fake) gold snowflake you thought was festive.

“Thanks,” you replied, your voice even softer than his as you folded your arms in front of your stomach. “I hope it’s okay. I don’t have a lot of nice outfits.”

Steve shook his head, captivated eyes still scanning over you. They landed briefly on your legs, the black stockings you’d worn in an attempt to stave off the cold now prickling warm on your skin as if it was his hands running over them instead of just his gaze.

“You always look perfect,” he said.

It’s not just the words that made you falter, but the plainness with which he states them. As if it’s something obvious. As though he thinks it all the time and he just happened to say it this time. It makes your stomach twirl and all at once, you feel like an empty-headed teenager standing at her locker, dizzy from being complimented by the cutest boy in school.

“So, this is quite a spectacle,” you chuckled, glad for the dimness of the room that somewhat hid your reaction to him. “Are there any poinsettias left in Hawkins?”

Steve smirked and took a careful step forward. There was only about a foot of space between you now, if that. “I think if there were, my mom would already have a guy on it,” he said.

Your eyes met his and you shared a soft laugh. “Well, it’s really beautiful,” you sighed. “It must have taken her ages to do all this.”

“Not really,” Steve chuckled. “She has, like, a whole team that comes in and puts it all together.”

“Oh, right. Of course.” Your gaze dropped and you gave a regretful shake of your head. Rich people stuff, you thought a bit bitterly. No wonder that hadn’t occurred to you. “But…you must decorate the tree together, at least. Right?”

“No, they do that too. I’ve, uh…I’ve never actually never decorated a tree for Christmas. I kind of thought that was just something they did in movies.”

He huffed out a laugh, trying to hide the sadness that had started to pollute his smile, and rubbed the back of his head, tugging at the hair there that curled along the nape of his neck.

All you could do was stare.

You thought about that gleaming, twelve-foot behemoth downstairs with its dazzling lights and ornaments all spaced and hung so perfectly. It was stunning—looked like something straight out of a magazine. But now it was tinged with something hollow and unsatisfactory. 

Cold. Fake. Empty.

It was you who stepped closer this time, the muscles in your arm tensing as if fighting against your brain’s instructions to reach out and touch him. He was close enough now you could feel the warmth coming off his body and smell the spice of his cologne and the clove cigarette he must have smoked. Your lips trembled, parted slightly, still searching for what to say.

But words refused to come.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright,” Steve soothed, flashing you that easy and charming smile you’d grown to love and loathe in equal measure. “I just meant, like, Christmas really isn’t a big deal to me. And neither is this party, honestly, but…”

He fell silent as his hand reached out to squeeze your elbow, the soft pad of his thumb rubbing gently across your forearm. You stared mutely at his hand where it rested, already dreading how cold it would feel there when he let go of you. Except he didn’t.

“I’m really happy you’re here, though,” he said.

Steve’s chest rose with a sharp inhale and the tip of his tongue swiped along his bottom lip to wet it. His head tilted towards you, a few stray pieces of hair falling into his eyes that were bright and shiny with the string lights around the window reflecting in them. 

It made your own breath catch, praying you weren’t imagining it as he started to lean in.

“Sorry to interrupt.”

You and Steve flew apart like shrapnel, both of you too wrapped up in the steady draw of your bodies together to notice the heavy thump of Eddie’s footsteps in the hall. Steve’s hand came up automatically to run through his hair, dragging up the bottom of his sweater and flashing the briefest glimpse of torso as his arm lifted. It made your mouth dry as a bone.

“I just realized I forgot about my hostess gift,” Eddie said.

His brow cocked at you and yet another little smirk curved along his lips as he brushed past, nudging you ever so subtly back in Steve’s direction. He then started to rifle through the inside pockets of his leather jacket until he exhumed a plastic bag with a few joints inside.

“Got it!” he chimed, holding it up triumphantly. “Merry Christmas, Stevie.”

The little baggie sailed through the air, crinkling when it hit Steve in the center of his chest. 

“Oh! Thanks, man,” he chuckled, fumbling to catch it. “That’s great.”

Turning it over in his hands, he paused, mulling in silence as he stared down at the joints and glanced over his shoulder at the open doorway. From downstairs, you could now hear the faint tinkling of a piano being played and Eddie noticeably winced at the first few warbled notes of an unrecognizable carol being sung by a particularly drunk chorus.

“You know,” Steve said slowly. “We could bail on the party. Take this out to the pool house?”

As soon as he asked, his eyes darted up to meet yours—interrupting your intense study of the side of his face. Round and hopeful, they shone with his earnestness and you felt dizzy all over again. It made your brain scramble, trying to act like you weren’t just consumed by thoughts of what might or might not have been about to happen. You smiled.

“What are we waiting for?”

Steve left the lights off in the pool house, not wanting to draw too much attention if someone wandered onto the patio for some fresh air. The three of you made your way out in shifts—you with a plate of decadent treats you’d filled from the long table of desserts, Eddie with one loaded with food he’d swiped from the circulating trays, and Steve with a bottle of champagne he’d snuck out of the kitchen while the caterers were distracted.

The satisfying pop of its opening bounced off the walls that were mostly windows, sounding all the more illicit and clandestine in the darkness. The contents of the bottle fizzed as he held it out, offering you the first swig, and you took it with a nimble grasp.

Bubbly liquid splashed on your tongue and the dry, almost acidic, taste of it surely would have impressed someone with a more refined palette. But it made you wrinkle your nose as you squinted to read the French name scrawled in a loopy script on the shield shaped label.

“Gross, right?” Steve chuckled as you handed the bottle back. “But it gets the job done.”

He took a deep swig, head tipping back and giving you a long, long moment to study his neck as the muscles flexed with his swallow. You stared shamelessly, transfixed by the pairs of moles that sat along the line of his strong jaw, your head empty of thoughts except how much better that champagne would taste if you were licking it from his lips.

Eddie coughed, all loud and fake, drawing both of your eyes to him where he sat on a rattan sofa in the center of the room. He stared at you expectantly as he slouched down further in his seat, his knees spread wide and his arms draped across the back. He’d wasted no time making himself more comfortable, loosening the evergreen tie you’d made him wear and rolling up the sleeves of the dress shirt he normally only broke out for funerals or the odd court appearance.

“Don’t I get some of that?” he asked with a wry smirk.

Steve hurried to offer him the champagne, wiping away a little dribble of it that had started to trickle down his chin. You followed behind and slotted into a chair adjacent to Eddie’s as Steve handed off the bottle, making your brain short circuit when you saw the way his wide grasp nearly engulfed the entire bottom. It didn’t restart until he settled in the seat next to you.

After taking his sip, Eddie sparked up one of the joints and started it in a rotation along with the champagne. After only a few pulls from each you started to feel the effects, your head getting all light and floaty, your body warming from the blood pumping through you, your skin buzzing from the way your fingers kept brushing Steve’s whenever you passed him the joint or the bottle. 

Or maybe it was from the way his eyes lingered on yours when you did.

Eventually, you dropped out of the rotation and sank back in your chair to gaze up at the house. The whole thing seemed to glow with the warmth of the party within, its windows bright yellow, the lights twinkling on the eaves. And the snowfall had remained soft and steady, dusting everything with a fine layer of white like powdered sugar.

The picture was immaculate, like a life-size snow globe. If Steve’s mother had somehow managed to pay Mother Nature as a decorator, it wouldn’t surprise you in the slightest.

“Seriously, Harrington,” Eddie snorted, evidently sharing in your bewilderment. “If all this is just the weekend before, I’m scared to ask what your family does for the main event.”

A deep chuckle bubbled out of his chest as he took a long swig of the rapidly draining bottle. He’d said it mostly as a joke, but Steve’s reaction revealed a nerve had been struck. He began to cough, sputtering out his words as he pulled the smoldering joint from between his lips.

“Oh no, it’s not—they aren’t, uh…they won’t be here.”

His eyes darted to the floor as he shook his head and stammered out his non-answer, wearing that same look on his face you’d seen in the guest room. Half-sad and trying to hide it.

“What do you mean?” Eddie asked. Steve just shrugged.

“They always go away for Christmas. I think it’s St. Barts this year. Maybe Turks and Caicos? Their flight is sometime tomorrow night.”

“Wait, so…they just leave you here?” you asked. “By yourself?”

Steve shrugged and shook his head again, the move almost reflexive, like flinching away from the sting of alcohol cleaning a fresh wound. “A nanny would stay with me when I was little. But from the time I was old enough…yeah, pretty much.”

You and Eddie’s eyes met, the same unthinkable thought seemingly crossing your minds. You actually felt bad—not just bad, but sad—for Steve Harrington. 

“It’s not so bad, seriously,” he said, all flustered trying to salvage the mood. “I just hang out and watch movies and eat pizza. It’s fun. Honest.”

Despite his attempts, you can’t help but frown as you think what Steve’s Christmas will look like. His big house that was bursting at the seams with people right now being cold and desolate; him sitting all alone at a long dining room table eating leftover appetizers for every meal.

The thought tugged at something buried deep inside you. Something you’d packed away long ago and shoved into the furthest recesses of your mind. A box wrapped and taped and stapled and tied shut and then shoved behind a closet door. It made you turn to look at Eddie and he nodded knowingly, needing no words to know what you wanted him to say.

“You should come over,” he said, speaking so suddenly it came out loud in the tense quiet.

Steve’s head lifted. “What?”

“To me and Wayne’s,” Eddie supplied. “For Christmas Eve. We have dinner together and watch old movies and play games and shit. With this one.”

He jerked his thumb at you and you smiled as Steve’s eyes flitted over to meet your gaze.

“Only because they can’t cook to save their lives,” you said, shooting him a wink that made the corners of his mouth curl upwards.

“It’s not gonna be like this,” Eddie assured. “But it’s something, you know?”

“That, um…” Steve looked down at his lap, his long lashes fluttering as he tried to blink back the beginnings of tears. “That sounds really nice.”

Your hand moved without permission, reaching out to close around his wrist and squeeze. Steve’s head turned, staring at it like he thought he was dreaming. And as your brain suddenly caught up with the action and your body flooded with embarrassment, you started to pull it back only to feel the warmth of his palm covering your hand to hold it in place.

The only sound in the room was yours and Steve’s soft breathing and you swore you could feel the way both of your pulses were racing in time. His eyes lifted to meet yours and you became entranced all over again by his handsome face, the freckles that dotted his tanned skin, hazel eyes that shimmered as he scanned your expression, the deepness of his cupid's bow.

“I, um…I should check in with my mom real quick. You guys, uh…sit tight.”

Steve sputtered out his words as he rose to his feet, leaving your skin cold as he pulled his hands from yours. He looked around, his eyes searching to land on anything besides you or Eddie as he turned and stumbled towards the door. Eddie watched you watch Steve leave, an expression on his face as bemused as it was mocking.

“Jesus Christ, you two are exhausting.”

He shook his head, laughing to himself as he stuffed the last of the appetizers in his mouth. You glared back at him as he chewed and tried not to think about how your hand still burned where the ghost of Steve’s warmth remained.

“What are you talking about?”

“Oh, come on. If I knew I was gonna have to watch you make googly-eyes at each other all night, I could have stayed home. I get enough of that as it is.”

“We’re not—”

“Don’t even finish that sentence,” Eddie scoffed. “You are. He is. Just make a move, already.”

It was actually painful rolling your eyes as hard as you did. “Right. Sure. And what kind of move am I supposed to make? Considering how he ran out of here just because I touched his arm?”

“You’re not serious, are you? You’re pulling my dick, right?”

Eddie hunched forward as you deadpanned him, answering with a slow blink of your eyes and humorless expression until he threw his head back in a loud laugh.

“He had a fucking boner, smartass!” he cackled.

It’s not only your cheeks that warm now, but your whole body igniting like a bonfire. The feeling grips your shoulders, it’s talons digging into your flesh, threatening to pierce it to the bone.

“Bullshit,” you whispered, your mind reeling.

“You think I don’t know Steve well enough to know when he goes from six to midnight? It happens literally any time you touch him.”

Eddie was still snickering to himself as he took a final puff of the joint that had been smoked down to a nub. You stared at your hands in your lap, thoughts going into overdrive. Because this wasn’t just some random guy at the Hideout or an ex-classmate hitting on you at a house party. This wouldn’t be just a fumbled touch, grabby hands groping blindly in a dark closet that you would recount to Eddie before he gave you the orgasm you’d sorely been denied.

This was Steve. This would be something. Wouldn’t it?

“Only one way to find out,” Eddie said, as though he could hear the question you were asking yourself. “Anything’s gotta be better than this.”

“But what if he—”

The rattle of the doorknob cut you off, your eyes darted to the door just as Steve pushed it open to slip back inside. Eddie’s dark curls fell forward, sliding off his shoulders as he leaned in.

“Just follow my lead,” he whispered.

Your eyes bulged in your skull, but before you could retort or argue, Steve had plopped back down in the chair next to you and your lips were effectively sealed.

“So the singing is still going on,” he chuckled. “But I think everyone will head home soon. We aren’t missing much.”

“That’s okay.” Eddie groaned softly into a stretch as he settled back into his reclined position. “I’m sure we can think of something to do.”

Heat flooded your core at his insinuating tone and you sat up a little straighter. He let his head loll to the side, his eyes finding yours automatically, dark irises glinting in the scant light.

“Hey…c’mere, doll.”

Eddie shifted down in his seat, rubbing his ringed hand across his thigh as an invitation. Maybe it was the weed. Maybe it was the fancy, and surely expensive, champagne you’d been sipping all night. Maybe it was the way Steve’s gaze followed you so intently as you stood and walked over to where Eddie sat on the wicker sofa. Whatever it was, it was working.

You laid your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself as you kneeled on the cushion next to him and went to straddle his lap. But his hands came up to grip your waist and stopped you.

“Uh-uh,” he said, motioning his index finger in a circle. “Other way.”

You hesitated, glancing from your crouched position over at Steve. His eyes smoldered in the darkness as he watched you—leaning forward in his seat, elbows resting on his knees, his long fingers laced in front of him. With a hard swallow, you stood and turned.

Eddie jerked you back against him, roughly pulling you flush with his chest. His knees pushed between your own and he spread them wide so your legs were held open, draped over the tops of his thighs. It made the skirt of your dress glide upwards, hem skimming the tops of your stockings, threatening to reveal the strips of bare skin between them and your panties.

His words from earlier still rang in your head. Follow my lead.

Well-worn hands splayed wide across your stomach, squeezing at the softness of your waist. Beneath you, his hips began to shift and the beginnings of his hard-on pressed insistently into the fat of your ass. It made you shiver all over, a gasp falling from your lips.

“So well behaved,” Eddie hummed, tracing the line of your jaw with his fingertips, suddenly gripping your chin in his hand to turn your face towards him. “She’s such a good girl, Stevie… and we have so much fun together…”

The words and the deep timbre of his voice sent more shivers down your spine as he bumped the tip of your nose with his own. He pecked lightly at your lips until they opened up for him, his tongue probing the warm cavern of your mouth until you were moaning into his kiss.

It was lazy, but punishing. He nipped gently at your top lip, his own feathering with a tiny snarl as he revered back to his conversation with Steve.

“Why don’t you tell her about that photo you found?” he asked, hot breath fanning across your cheek. “Tell her what you thought about it.”

Your gaze flashed to Steve’s and you wondered if there was more light in here whether you’d be able to see a rush of scarlet covering his cheeks. His eyes had gone round with nervous energy, but they remained locked onto yours as he spoke.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about it,” he rasped, his voice almost cracking his throat was so tight. “I wish I could see it again, I…I wish it was me she’d done that for.”

The pit of your belly burned at his words, a breathy sigh fluttering in your chest and an exquisite ache now radiating between your legs. Eddie’s fingers trailed along the center of your body, over your sternum, tracing the dip of your navel through your dress until it quivered under his touch.

Slowly, he drew up the bottom of your dress like a curtain to reveal your core and the black lace your arousal had begun to seep through. The tips of his fingers stroked your entrance, mercilessly teasing your second set of lips.

“You wouldn’t believe how good she feels, Steve,” Eddie husked, his fingers holding their pace, making you grind into his lap. “Way better than that prissy cheerleader pussy you’re used to.”

The room filled with the sound of your breath and the wet schlick of Eddie’s fingers in your folds.

“Oh, sorry,” Eddie snickered. “I should say honor society pussy.”

Steve’s nostrils suddenly flared, his gaze tearing away from you and your body as if coming out of a trance. You looked back over your shoulder with a horrified look.

“Eddie—”

“Shush,” he snapped, cutting you off by plunging his fingers inside of you. They hooked upwards and your back bowed at the sudden stretch, a broken moan slipping past your lips. Steve’s eyes were drawn to your face at the sound, Eddie’s mention of his ex flying right out of his head.

“You want a taste, Harrington?” he asked, all dark and leading.

A little whimper escaped you at the thought and Eddie grinned wickedly. He smiled as he kissed the back of your neck, his teeth flashing as he nipped at your racing pulse.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you, sweetheart? You’d like his tongue?”

“Y-yes,” you gasped, your eyes darting to find Steve’s. “Please.”

At your plaintive mewl, the very moment you asked, Steve instantly rose to his feet and hurried to kneel between yours and Eddie’s spread legs. His long fingers wrapped around the gusset of your underwear and he wrenched them to the side to reveal your dripping core.

He licked his lips as he stared at it, practically salivating. Your own lips trembled, fighting back the urge to cry out for him as you let your head fall back to rest on Eddie’s shoulder.

The wet heat of his tongue met your pussy in long, languid swipes. He nodded his head with each motion, dragging it through your folds as he inhaled deep and needy breaths of your scent like you were his air. His eyes burned with lust as he looked up from between your thighs, gauging your every reaction in the way you fluttered around his tongue.

With a trembling hand, you reached out and brushed your fingertips along his brow, skimming the stray pieces of hair that had fallen forward into his eyes. The intensity of his stare, the depth of his gaze, made you glow brighter even than that behemoth of a tree inside.

He sped up his movements, working you up, the tip of his tongue pointed to swirl in a pattern as magical as it was maddening, flicking it teasingly over your clit and making you clench with each too-quick pass. At the same time, you felt Eddie’s hand creep up between your shoulder blades, fingers weaving into your hair to grasp it at the root. He gave it a firm tug and pulled your head back, bringing his lips to your ear so he could whisper to you—deep and rough and just loud enough for Steve to hear.

“Why don’t you tell him how long you’ve wanted this, huh?”

Another pitiful whimper left your lips as Eddie’s other hand squeezed a little more intensely at your chest, tweaking your nipple through your dress, loving how it made you tremble.

“Si-since Junior year,” you panted. “When he w-won the state swim meet…”

Just the thought of that day nearly has you flooding Eddie’s lap and Steve’s mouth. Your mind filled with the memories of it—visions of him in a Speedo that confirmed just about every rumor you’d ever overheard in the girl’s locker room; his arm and back muscles rippling as he pushed himself out of the pool; water spilling over freckled skin, droplets collecting on his shoulders and running down, down, down to where the small of his back met the fullness of his ass.

You had sat in the stands, thighs pressing together, feeling almost perverted staring while he celebrated with his teammates and whipped off his swim cap, his wild hair exploding out of it and making you wonder how he’d even managed to fit it all underneath in the first place.

The mere mention of his glory days seemed to have a similar effect on Steve. The movements of his tongue and lips turned more fervent, more determined to unspool you as he moaned like he’d never tasted anything as good as you.

Tremors began to roll through your body, making your thighs twitch and spasm.

“Tell him how good it feels,” Eddie husked, hips now punching up to create some friction against his own cock as it strained inside his dress pants. “Tell him how much you like it.”

“Yes, Steve, fuck—I love it so much,” you whined. “Keep going, I need it.”

The pretty lilt and waver of your voice had Steve unraveling before your very eyes. Another low groan rumbled from deep in his chest and he buried his face further, more eagerly, in your heat.

“God, you taste so fucking good, honey,” he moaned. “I could do this all night.”

The thought of having his mouth on you all night is enthralling, but there was no way you would last. You were barely going to make it another minute as it was. Steve was too good. 

Every flick, every swipe, every swirl of his tongue you could feel in your entire body. Pleasure rushed across you in waves, a torturous winding upwards, that burning feeling deep in your gut coiling tighter, tighter. Your breaths grew shallow and your pulse raced until you were shaking in Eddie’s lap, fighting so hard to keep your legs spread apart that they shook from the effort.

Steve’s hands came up to grasp at your thighs, his fingers squeezing at the meat of them as he kept you pried open for him to ravish. Like a man possessed, he lapped and sucked and kissed at your entrance, his whole body seeming to move along with the motions of his tongue and lips. Beneath you, the wicker couch suddenly slid backwards and you realized it was because he had tried to grind against it—desperate to feel something, anything, against his cock.

Wishing it was you.

“C-close, close, I’m so close. Steve, I’m co—oohhh—”

Your orgasm rushed in, plowing through your body, making you lose all sense. You squirmed wildly in Eddie’s lap, almost having forgotten he was there until he reached around to give both of your nipples one last pinch—knowing how it always pushed you further over the edge.

Steve’s lips never left your clit and his eyes never left your face as he ushered you into your climax. He stared up at you, his eyes all glassy and round, searching for your reassurance as he rose from between your legs. His face hovered in front of yours and he lifted a hand to cup your jaw, his massive palm warm on your flushed skin as you panted to regain your breath.

“Good?” he asked. Hushed, like a prayer.

“So good,” you exhaled, chest still heaving. Your voice wobbled as you spoke, so overwhelmed with all your buried feelings being dredged to the surface. “Steve, that was—”

“Steven, honey? Are you out here?”

Every hair on Steve’s head went flying as he whipped his head around hearing his mother’s voice. Through the sheer curtains, he could see her as she stepped outside onto the porch, peering into the darkness, wrapping a fur stole tighter around her elegant cocktail attire.

Panic struck his face like lightning, his mouth hanging open, his lips and chin still shiny with your spend. He looked back at you, his cheeks nearly as deep red as the velvet ribbons hung all over his house. You scrambled off Eddie’s lap to stand, frantically straightening your dress and hair, nervously wiping at your lips that were swollen from biting down when you came.

“I, um…the party’s probably over,” Steve said. “I just have to say goodbye to some people.”

He ran his hands through his hair a few more times as he strode towards the door, even though any damage you’d done grabbing it must have been righted by now. You looked over at Eddie, your own eyes swirling with questions you were terrified to hear the answers to.

His shoulders bounced, standing to tuck his shirttail back into his dress pants.

“Well, that’s one way to do it.”.

Steve was waiting in the foyer with you and Eddie’s coats when you snuck in from outside. His parents, thankfully, were too occupied giving the caterers instructions for clean-up to exchange any pleasantries at the door. You could only imagine how that would go…

Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Harrington. I’m the girl your son made come all over his face in your pool house. What a lovely party, thank you so much for inviting us.

There was still a smile on Steve’s face, though it felt almost pasted on now compared to his expression when you first arrived, sort of forced in an attempt to look more normal than he felt. He handed off Eddie’s leather jacket and then held yours open, his eyes remaining glued to you as you turned and pushed your arms through the sleeves. His fingertips trailed along the nape of your neck as he helped straighten the coat on your shoulders, his index tracing its curve all the way to your hairline in a way that felt so intentional it made your skin buzz.

With your ears pounding from your heartbeat thundering in them, you spun around to face him, your lips parted to speak only for no words to come. Because what was there for you to say? Or for him to do? Kiss you? He hadn’t even done that during, would he do it now to say goodbye?

Steve’s handsome face was as conflicted and contorted as your own. A faint blush still dusted along his cheeks and his eyes shone bright from the candlelight coming off the tapers that had burned almost all the way out. At last he drew a breath, and you felt your heart stutter.

“Thank you for coming,” he said softly.

Eddie could barely contain the snort that burst out of him, even as he slapped a hand over his crooked smile and your eyes shot daggers straight into his chest.

You couldn’t get out the door fast enough.

There was only silence as the pair of you trudged along the driveway to the street where Eddie had parked his van, the snow on the ground having melted into slush mottled with gray where it mixed with excess oil on the road. Without the glow of the Christmas lights coming off the rest of the houses in the neighborhood, the darkness of Steve’s street now felt oppressive. 

It made you walk a little quicker to the van, your hand curled tight around the passenger side door handle waiting for Eddie to unlock it. As the two of you climbed inside the cab, he cranked the engine and flipped open the air vents for the heat to blast, finally breaking his silence as you yanked your door shut behind you with a sharp tug.

“Look, I’m sorry. Okay? I thought I was helping,” Eddie muttered, his hands gripping tight around the steering wheel. “You were being so fucking obvious, I thought you needed a push.”

His chunky rings glinted in the street light as he busied himself messing with the radio, static scratching in your ears as he searched for something besides Christmas music.

“Are you really mad?” he asked, still fiddling with the dial, barely able to look at you. 

You shook your head.

“I just…I don’t know, I feel like it’s weird now.” You let your face fall into your hands and shook your head furiously. “I mean, was that totally fucked up? To do that?”

“Nah, that wasn’t fucked up,” Eddie said assuredly. 

He sounded confident enough that you let your shoulders actually relax and finally expelled the breath you were holding. The relief was short-lived though, when Eddie piped up again.

“I’ll tell you what might be, though.”

With a heavy sigh, you looked over at him warily. “What?” you asked.

Eddie sighed as he slumped back against the seat. His foot rested on the gas pedal and he pressed it down lightly, barely revving the engine to get some hot air flowing from the vents.

“When he comes over for Christmas Eve.”

Thank you so much for reading, I appreciate any time taken to read/comment endlessly ♥️

Started on this last year in December so that should tell you everything you need to know about my writing process. Enjoy some Christmas in whatever-month-you’re-reading-this. 😉

#steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson smut #eddie munson one shot #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fanfic

[maxarchive]

Fear, faith, friendship: Inside F1’s most precious relationship

[...]

When now-triple world champion Max Verstappen was first promoted to the Red Bull team mid-season in 2016, race engineer Gianpiero Lambiase was tasked with moulding an 18-year-old possessing both supreme talent and a frank demeanour with only a few days' notice.

"I had experience working with multiple drivers before Max, and that was one of the biggest helps in terms of hitting the ground running with him. I think if I would have been a newbie to my role - I won't quite say he would have eaten me alive, but I'm not sure he would have had that respect for a junior engineer."

Their relationship was an immediate success. Verstappen became the youngest race winner in F1 history, finishing first on his debut at the Spanish Grand Prix. But, generally, the first few years of Lambiase and Verstappen's partnership were spent chasing perennial frontrunners Mercedes.

"Max learned some really harsh lessons in the two or three years before 2021. His racecraft really was something that we focused on, making sure we were just picking up points when it wasn't possible to win a race. We were concentrating on building his consistency, needing to be finishing every race, maybe not putting himself in a situation where he can end up in a 50/50 accident with another driver."

[...]

Sometimes, though, tension between driver and race engineer can spill over in the most high-pressure moments.

Now in his ninth season working with Verstappen, having won the championship in each of the past three seasons, Lambiase's voice is a staple of every F1 broadcast and has become recognisable to fans all around the world.

The pair's success does not mean their communications are entirely straightforward.

"I think it is inevitable in any relationship that there are disagreements. The first port of call is acceptance of that. Secondly, you need to have faith in each other that it is for the greater good rather than there being any kind of malicious undertone. That is at the core of the relationship. As an engineer, I need to understand that ultimately Max is in the hot seat, not me. So while we are all working in a pressurised environment, the driver is at a level well beyond that. As an older citizen I would like to think I am mature enough to step back and let him vent when necessary, but to also make him understand why decisions are being made. If I was a yes man, I would have been gone long ago. We have just got that honesty in the relationship between us that we can be blunt and straight-talking when needed."

As well as coping with adrenaline themselves, race engineers must manage the pressure on their racers.

The 2021 campaign was arguably the most intense in F1's 74-year history. After an acrimonious year marked by heavy collisions between the pair on track and serial sparring between their respective team principals in the paddock, Verstappen and rival Lewis Hamilton's title fight came down to the wire at the season finale in Abu Dhabi.

"I wouldn't want to repeat 2021 in a hurry. It was incredibly competitive on and off the track [but] sometimes I think it went beyond the realms of sport. In terms of taking that pressure away from Max, I tried to stress with everybody here that we continued as normal. We treated every race as a single event rather than trying to look too far down the line at what could be."

[...]

In some cases though, the idea of starting afresh following the end of such a deep connection doesn't appeal any more.

"I honestly see Max as a younger brother. We can talk about anything and anyone at any time. We're at the point where we just felt completely relaxed and at ease with each other. Maybe I am speaking out of turn, but I don't think I would have any interest in working with another driver now. Having had the success that we have enjoyed together with Max, working with one of the greatest talents that the sport has ever seen, I don't think it would be fair on another driver, from their perspective or mine, to try and replicate what we have achieved with Max."

In Formula 1, as in all our lives, the magic of the most special relationships will always remain utterly unique.

#max verstappen #gianpiero lambiase #f1 #2024

[fawnprincessblog]

𝒜𝓃𝓰𝓮𝓁'𝓈 𝒹𝓮𝓋𝓮𝓁𝓸𝓅𝓂𝓮𝓃𝓉 𝒹𝒾𝒶𝓇𝓎.

(part 1: 'the praise and some coffee') type: slow burn, fluff (tom kaulitz 2015 × fem reader)

includes : teacher × student, childish annoying immature school girl who's name is Angel (you), teacher tom, wannabe teacher's pet, age gap. tom is 25, angel is 17. plot : angel, a young, childish and innocent honour student was shunned by her schoolmates due to her being a teacher's pet, but none of that mattered whenever she ran into her favorite teacher, Tom, that she so deeply admired, who she swears on her life she will serve until the day she dies. despite being favourited by many other teachers, tom does not favour her due to her clingy behaviour. she may be smart but her hormones play a huge part in her schooling life as well.

bambi's note! : hello sweeties :3 i don't really wanna explain much but i think you guys will be sick of hearing the same lame excuse to why i disappear quite frequently. writer block makes me want to suicide sometimes, i've been trying my hardest to write, this took me months to finally put tgt. crazy that it's short too. i have drafts from last year in my docs. im also an art student, so it makes it hard to tackle both things rn. anyway, have fun reading part one of 'Angel's development diary ' :3

“Everyone now turn to page 74,” Tom instructs, his voice sharp and echoing across the classroom. The whole room was silent, only he could be heard. Nobody would disrespect a man like him, for he was rather strict, and serious, his only intention being to get his point across and educate his students. That’s what the majority saw in him. 

Well, except for one person. That was Angel. The honour student of her class.

Angel saw what other people did not care about. Despite being the very sophisticated and refined teacher everyone knew, to her he was so much more. Tom was a young, 25 year-old Maths teacher. She admired that strong body structure of his, and the way his face features all fit together. The way his hair was always worn in a messy bun, a few strands poking out the front, had just added to his good looks. He wasn’t over-dressed, like those wannabe scientists-looking teachers in her physics classes; he was rather usually seen in t-shirts. On special occasions, she got to see him in a suit. 

He wasn’t the kind to play around. He expected all his students to pass his class with flying colours, not one left behind. In fact, all teachers wished the same. In such a popular and very high-class school, of course every single student had to be well-behaved and supremely knowledgeable.

The school Angel went to was one with a high standard of academic and extracurricular achievements. It has a strong emphasis on academics and often has a highly selective acceptance rate, which makes it difficult to get in. She was quite lucky. The campus has beautiful architecture, state-of-the-art facilities, and ample resources for students' academic and personal development. The faculty members are very well-educated and experienced in their respective fields, and the school often has a high student-teacher ratio. The students are often from wealthy families with a strong academic focus, and the school often boasts a high graduation rate. 

Coming from such a school that was great and had put Angel’s reputation in great hands meant no mistakes were to be made at all. She had to maintain her good grades. And one thing is for sure: she couldn’t possibly keep having dirty thoughts about her teacher. 

“Hey, you,” Tom called out, snapping his fingers twice. “Angel?” 

She snapped out of her trance almost immediately, a little startled by his tone. “Oh—yes?” she responds, heat evidently rising in her cheeks the moment he had called out her name. Oh, when he said her name, it only served to heighten her arousal. His voice was so strong and firm, it made her squirm in her seat like a damn worm. All those dirty thoughts wouldn’t go away. 

“Are you gonna pay attention? Or is daydreaming the only thing you like to do?” Tom asked, folding his muscular arms across his chest, staring right into her soul. He had this scary glare that usually put most students in fear, but to her, it was attractive. His dominant demeanour when teaching a lesson made her imagine all these horrendous things, like how he was in bed. 

“N-No—! Um, I was listening,” Angel responds, clearing her throat. She shifted a little in her seat, tugging at the hem of her red plaid skirt. She was wet. So uncomfortably wet and aroused, she would’ve probably left a stain on the chair if she had gotten up.

“I hope so,” Tom grunted, turning back to the chalkboard to continue writing those endless amounts of Math sums. It was overwhelming to look at; all of the numbers bunched together, the dusty residue of the chalk making it even worse. It was a lot to take in, however that was just how it was. 

His teaching continued, his voice loud and clear. Angel diligently started writing down her notes, trying to keep up with his pace. Being such a good student, she had become fond of his teachings, and she was expected to have one of the highest marks among the rest, even if everyone else was already good. 

An honour student. That’s what she was. Supposedly, she was the teacher’s pet. 

She did well, joined every possible club and involved herself in every school event, making sure she was obtaining high merit points that boosted her reputation in her school. Angel was simply a good little girl that most teachers did like, but the other students, and for some reason, Tom, did not like her. They found her exasperating. 

The bell rings. Class is over, and Tom is preparing a stack of worksheets to hand out to the class on the way out. “Alright class, tomorrow I wanna see all your worksheets full of numbers. All correct and no mistakes. I believe I’ve taught you all enough on this topic, so I expect perfect answers,” he announces. “You can pack up and leave now.” 

“Sir!” Angel calls out, rising from her seat abruptly, making everyone else pause from their packing up. Majority rolled their eyes. “You forgot to take attendance. Usually you take attendance every morning before class but since you forgot the checklist you said you would—”

“Right, right, okay,” Tom interrupts, an exasperated sigh followed right after. Clearly, he was pissed. Angel was quite aware that he disliked her try-hard behaviour, in fact, she was aware everyone did. Of course as an honour student she was made to please the teachers with good grades and behaviour, but the other students knew clearly she acted the most clingy around Tom. She saw past his strict demeanour and she acted like a child around him. Always trying to point out the simplest things, always reminding him about his meetings, always trying to get him his coffee, always trying to help him out at any damn chance she got— Angel was desperate and needy for his love. She was willing to make him love her. She wanted to be his favourite student. 

He notwithstanding, saw her as a confounded girl who was beating a dead horse. A try-hard, annoying, clingy little bitch that stuck to him like a damn tick. It irritated him when she acted like his little servant. 

But Angel liked it. She didn’t care. 

“Since you wanna help so much, get the checklist for me,” Tom tells her rather bluntly, clicking a pen in his hand as he speaks. Angel’s ears perk up at his request. “What? Really?” she asks, eyes full of joy. That annoying excited voice—it made his ears bleed.

“Go get it, it's in my office,” Tom says. “And hurry. Your classmates wanna leave class.” 

“Consider it done, sir!” she enthused, immediately dashing towards the door and running straight to his office. Like a little slave, she did everything for him.

Recess time. One of the times where Angel would bother her favourite teacher the most. Even if she was trying to be helpful, she usually came off as a nuisance. He was an earnest and disciplined man, always keeping up with his set schedule. During break he’d grab coffee in the teacher’s lounge, discuss some things with his colleagues, or he’d take the coffee straight to his office so he can finish up paperwork. However he wasn’t the only one who kept to his schedule…

“Hi sir,” she greeted excitedly, grinning like an idiot. She blocked him, not allowing him to continue walking through the school hallway, which was empty since everyone else was at the cafeteria. “Where will you be taking yourself to today? Do you need help with anything?

He lets out a breath, trying his hardest to not let her irritate him right now. Angel being around him was something he couldn’t possibly avoid. It was an everyday thing now. “No,” he said simply. He then looked around. “Do I look like I need help?” His tone was dripping with sarcasm. Angel could tell, but she couldn’t be bothered. 

“You may not be holding anything that I could help you carry, but there’s other things I can help with,” Angel says. “Like, your coffee. Do you want me to get your coffee?” She was just so damn innocent  acting like a maid trying to please him with every chance she got. She really acted like life was all unicorns and rainbows, like she had not a single issue in the world.

“For the last time, I can get it myself. You’ve been asking this everyday now,” Tom sighs. “Shouldn’t you be eating? It’s recess. Go eat.”

“I already have,” Angel replies with that annoying giggle right after, making him clench his jaw. She was insufferable. That giggle was ingrained into his mind. He could recognise it from a mile away. 

“Okay, good. Now if you don’t mind, you can just mov—”

“One sachet of the coffee mix, two teaspoons of sugar and some milk to top it off,” she interrupted, making him raise an eyebrow. “You use the blue mug. Always the blue mug,” she added.

“You know my coffee?” he asked, a little disturbed by her knowledge on how he liked his coffee. His eyes narrowed to slits, peering at her.

“Yep,” she replies, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. To him, she was a complete stalker at this point. “You have about 12 minutes to go to the teacher’s lounge and get your coffee, and return back to your office to finish marking off the recent test you gave us before you have to rush to the meeting you have with Mr.Harrison about the new changes we’re making to the school’s mural art.” 

“What?” he said, almost wanting to laugh in disbelief. That was way too many words for him to comprehend. “You know my schedule?” 

“Well I memorised it,” she shrugged. “Tuesday’s and Fridays you stay in your office during break. All the other days you’re eating at the teacher’s lounge.

What the hell, he thought, looking at her with the most perplexed look he’s ever plastered onto his perfect face. “What are you doing, stalking me? My schedule is printed on paper and left in the drawer of my desk—”

“It’s also printed in my mind,” she joked, pointing a finger to her temple. 

He looks at her, bewildered. Completely uneasy. He didn’t like this. He knew she always had this weird thing for him, but he didn’t think she was this peculiar, knowing his schedule and all. Tom was taken aback by her behaviour, but he remained unruffled for now. It wasn’t too surprising, since she had been doing this for a while; asking him if she could get his coffee, but he had always declined. In the past, she had been randomly reminding him about his meetings, or anything he planned to do on that day, which he also found annoying, but today she really surprised him, wording out his entire plan for today.  

He cleared his throat. “Well, I know my own schedule, I don’t need you to tell me,” he says.

“I know. You’re very smart. But, I figured you’d like help,” she says, grinning. 

He had to get rid of her. This damn pest of a student. “I don’t. Not right now. So, If you don’t mind, Angel, please move aside so I can go.” He tries to walk past her, but she stubbornly blocks him again. 

“C’mon, I’m sure you need someone to get your coffee,” Angel insisted, looking at him with those set of pathetic eyes, ones that he insanely hated to look at. She was small, pretty, and sweet, but she was tiring. He didn’t like her. “Angel…” he sighed, wanting to snap at her, but he held back; he may be strict, but there was no reason to be shouting at a student who just wanted to help so badly, right? “...Fine. Get my coffee, bring it to my office. Now.” he finally relented, looking down at her rather annoyed that he had forced himself to give in. Oh, she really had her ways. 

“Yes, sir!” Angel exclaims, smiling widely, and she dashed off, disappearing immediately. Tom folded his arms, watching the pesky little girl run off to get his coffee like a slave. She obeyed him so much, wanting to do anything just for his attention. He chuckled a little, he couldn’t help himself.

“One coffee,” she says, placing the blue ceramic mug onto his desk slowly, as if she were a waitress. Tom had been busy on his computer, going over some emails while waiting. She had returned rather quickly. Tom flashed her a faint smile, and he took the cup, taking a small sip. She had got it right. It tasted exactly like how he wanted. 

Wait for the praise, wait for the praise, Angel thought in her mind, eagerly looking at him for a positive reaction with big, innocent eyes. 

“It’s exactly how I like it, Angel,” Tom finally says, looking up at her. He noticed her small hands fidgeting with the hem of her school skirt. “Good job,” he finally praised, his voice low and soothing. 

Angel’s cheeks immediately flushed pink. Everytime he gave her praise, her arousal hit her like a brick. She couldn’t contain herself. She could already feel herself soaking her panties. “N-No problem, sir…” Angel says, her lips slowly curling into a nervous grin. She squeezed her thighs together a little, trying to contain herself. 

“You may go now,” he says. 

“Y-Yes,” she nods, bowing a little as a sign of respect. She then left.

Tom did not know the effect he had on this girl. If only he could ease that ache.

#tokio hotel #love #boyfriend #tom kaulitz #smut #tokio hotel x reader #tom kaulitz smut #bill kaulitz smut #bill kaulitz #tom kaulitz x reader

[elbiotipo]

Quick worldbuilding hack, if you want to make a coherent political system for your fantasy world:

Basically, between the fall of Rome and early modern times, in Europe* most political organization wasn't actually kingdoms ruled by One True King like it's usual in fantasy, but something like this:

Feudalism: here, the center of power was not the nation (there was little concept of such thing) or the state, and not even the King, but the landowners (from kings to dukes to counts...) and their network of vassalages to each other. There were no "countries" but rather hereditary titles, and the people who held them. There was little of a true state besides what individual rulers did; they didn't even have formal armies as such, but rather the vassals who provided them, they and could have multiple allegiances. Examples are of course the Holy Roman Empire (neither holy, etc. etc.) France (note that the 100 Years War was a dispute about titles rather than France vs. England), Spain (actually a bunch of kingdoms and crowns rather than a country), etc...

"Empires": A state where a central goverment exerts power over other territories and peoples. These are rather familiar to us, because a formal state exists here, and the ruler is more powerful and often does have a standing arming and administration instead of relying on vassals. Here, there is a bureacracy and a claim to rule a territory, and while they might have vassals and prominent artistocratic families (everyone did) their administration was state-based, not allegiance based. The Roman Empire is the most imperial empire, as well as its cringefail successor the Byzantine Empire, but note that the great Islamic empires also had this kind of administration, with governors appointed and confirmed by the imperial court.

City-States: Basically a powerful city (though they were often the size of small towns, still, very rich) ruled by a local aristocracy, sometimes hereditary, sometimes elected from a few families or guilds, or a mix of both, and in some cases ruled by religious authorities. These could be independent or organized in alliances, but were often vassals of more powerful goverments such as above. Cities are in many way the building brick of larger states; of note, in the Ancient Mediterranean before Rome conquered it all, leagues of city-states were the main powers. Medieval and Early Modern independent city states were the Italian city states of course, and a famous league was the Hansa (many of its members themselves vassals of other powers)

Tribes and Clans: Every culture is different with this, but basically here the centre of power is the relationships between families and kinship. If this sounds familiar to Feudalism, you've been paying attention; Feudalism is what happened when the Roman empire and administration fell, and it was replaced by landowners and their ties of vassalage and allegiances.

Now, besides the history lesson, why is this important? Because there are reasons why rulers had their power, and you should know that.

A king never ruled alone. He was only the head of nobles tied by vassallage (feudalism), or the head of a inherited state bureaucracy and army ("empire"). If you killed the king, another one would rise from the prominent families. Often by bloody civil wars or conquest yes, but the system overall would stay. A king did not reign by its own power or virtue, but because the system itself supported him, and of course, he maintained the system.

A new king who wants to replace the bad old king (a common fantasy storyline) needs to also deal with the allegiances of all its vassals (who would probably rather kill him and take the throne themselves) or build a bureaucracy and an army, supremely expensive endeavors in those times, which took decades if not centuries to build. In fact, the Byzantines and the Arabs inherited most of their state aparatus, in one way or the other, from the Romans.

This is also why these systems lasted so long, too. The appearance of modern republics and other systems of goverment needed the coordination of people and revolutions that did not just kill the king, but also replace it with something else, and for that you need literacy, economic changes, an empowered populace... But that's for another time.

I hope this is fucking helpful because I don't want to spell allegiance ever again.

*I would love to do more about goverments outside Europe, especially Precolombine American ones like the redistrubitionist state-based economy of the Incas, or the Mesoamerican city-states. But that's for another time.

#cosas mias #worldbuilding #history #fantasy

[justagalwhowrites]

Shelter

IT'S FINALLY DONE!

A request from MONTHS ago from the lovely, the talented, the supreme Lavender fan @dundienominee who wanted some QZ era Joel angst that included a few specifics. I thought you'd sent an ask but I think it was just one of the millions of DMs lol

So here it is! A NON-CANON Lavender one shot, where Joel and Doc are stuck together when FEDRA puts the QZ on lockdown.

I hope this is what you're looking for, love!!

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader from Lavender (can be read independently with the understanding that Joel and Reader are exes and Reader also dated Tommy in the QZ.)

Warnings: SMUT!, Results of canon-typical violence, infidelity (not on each other). No use of Y/N. Minors DNI, 18+ only.

Length: 8.4k

August, 2017

Joel had been right. 

That wasn’t a fact he particularly appreciated in that moment. He’d rather have been right and not shot. He’d rather have been wrong, for that matter, even if you’d be bound and fucking determined to hold it over him for the next who knows how fucking long. 

But no, he had to be right and shot. 

Still, better than another alternative. 

You shot. You hurt. That was the worst possible outcome. 

Well, maybe not the worst. That would be you dead.

Joel couldn’t think about that. 

“Shit,” you swore, the sound of FEDRA around the next corner. 

“There,” Joel said through gritted teeth, nodding toward a pile of junk. 

“Right,” you said, pulling him along toward it, your shoulder tucked into his underarm. You pulled him down to the ground just as a dozen or so FEDRA guards ran past, armed to the teeth, guns drawn. Joel fought to keep quiet, breathe silently through the pain, until he couldn’t hear them anymore. You looked at him. There was blood on your cheek. “Should we wait? Or do you think we’re good to move?” 

“So now you want to listen to me?” He asked sarcastically. You glared at him. He ignored it. “Should be alright now, doubt more troops will be headin’ that way from here.” 

You helped him to his feet and he leaned against you again, trying to ignore the way his body seemed to be hyperaware of everywhere you touched him. You started walking. 

“I’m really sorry, Joel,” you said, sounding a little breathless, as you started getting close to his apartment. “I really thought it would be alright…” 

“Maybe fuckin’ listen to me next time,” he managed through the pain. “Might not be a damn doctor but I do know about shit like this…” 

“I know,” you said quietly. 

Joel let the subject drop. 

The two of you had gone to the absolute shittiest part of the QZ to run medication to a boy there who had been in the clinic just a few days earlier. You’d gone on a special trip outside the QZ for it. You had explained it all to Joel and Tess, of course, but he didn’t really get it. All he knew was there was a four-year-old boy who needed some drug urgently. 

You just hadn’t bothered to explain where that drug needed to be taken until you, Joel and Tess made it back to the QZ. 

“No,” Joel had shaken his head. “No fuckin’ way…” 

“He’s going to die,” you said. “He has the flu, he’s already showing signs of complications, if he doesn’t get help it will kill him, I need…” 

“No.” 

“Fine,” you snapped. “I’ll go on my own.” 

You turned to leave. 

“No the fuck you won’t,” Joel grabbed your wrist, yanking you harshly alongside him. “Gonna just get yourself fuckin’ killed…” 

“Fuck off, Joel.” 

You pulled yourself from his grip and stalked off, leaving him no choice but to follow you. For someone as damn smart as you were, you made stupid fucking decisions. 

Decisions that led to the two of you getting caught in the crossfire between two rival groups that left Joel with a bullet in his stomach near his hip. 

“Almost there,” you said, your fingers holding tight to his side. 

“Know where the fuck we are,” he muttered. He didn’t need to look at you to know that you rolled your eyes in response. 

He managed to make it up the stairs and into the apartment, Tess pacing the living room. She stopped when she saw him, her eyes going wide. 

“Jesus Christ,” she ran to him, taking his other side. 

“Let’s get him to the table,” you said. “Trying to avoid doing this on the floor again…” 

Joel had all but forgotten that you’d saved his life here, in this room, once before. He had almost no memory of it, what little he did remember was more like a dream. You, next to him, your hands soft, voice gentle, something warm in him that was tied to you. You didn’t seem real, you seemed like something he’d lost, something that was in a place that was too far and too good for him to reach. But you were there. And you were taking care of him. 

“Fucking told you, Doc,” Tess snapped, helping to haul Joel’s broken body to the table. She cleared the papers and trash from it, dropping shit into a chair. “Fucking told you not to go to that side of the goddamn QZ…” 

“Yeah, I get it,” you snapped back. “I’m a fucking idiot, alright? Just help me.” 

You and Tess got Joel up on the table and he groaned, his muscle tensing and pulling around the wound in his stomach. 

“Sorry, sorry,” you said, helping him lay back on the wood with a grunt. 

“Don’t know why I let you talk us into this shit,” Tess said, still pissed, as she unbuttoned his shirt. “I should really fucking know better by now, you’re the dumbest smart person I know…” 

“Tess,” Joel growled. 

“She’s going to get you fucking killed,” she snapped. “She’s going to get us both fucking killed…” 

“Tess,” his voice was sharper. 

He knew that Tess was far from a fan of yours. She’d been growing tenser and tenser around you for a while now. He was never sure why, if it really was what she said and it was because she felt like you took stupid risks, if it was because he’d never been able to care about her the same way he cared about you in spite of how much he loathed it, if it was because she was tired of trying to keep the peace when you were so clearly done with him. For a while, it had seemed like the two of you were friends. Almost friends. But not anymore. 

“Someone has to give a shit if you live or die, Joel, and we both know that it’s not going to be you and it’s not going to be her, either,” she unbuttoned his jeans next. “So that leaves me.” 

“You think I don’t give a shit?” You asked, dropping your pack on a chair and yanking it open. “You think I keep you and him alive for fun?” 

“No, I think you do it so you can keep trying to save a place that can’t be fucking saved,” she was yelling now. 

“Tess.” 

“Shut up, Joel,” she barely glanced at him before rounding on you again. “I’m tired of being some tool in her goddamn stupid crusade…” 

“Tess.” 

“I didn’t fucking make him come with me!” You yelled back at her. “I would have gone on my own, he’s the one…” 

“You really think he’s the one who makes the decisions when it comes to you?” Tess shoved you. “You really think he’d let you run off to get yourself fucking killed? You’re an idiot sometimes, Doc, but you’re not that fucking stupid.” 

“Tess!” Joel was trying to sit up but she wasn’t paying attention. You were. You looked at him, frowning. 

“No,” she yelled, shoving you again. “No, I’m done with this shit, I’m done pretending that we’re doing fucking anything besides risking our fucking lives for some pointless…” 

“Tess!” He managed to sit up, grabbing her arm before she could shove you again. Her head spun, hair whirling, eyes narrowed. “She’s right, don’t fuckin’ blame her…” 

“She’s…” Tess shook her head. “You are so fucking stuck on her, on her bullshit, on…” 

“Get out.” 

You pulled gauze out of your pack and pressed it to the wound at his hip. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” She gaped at him, her brows raised. 

“You can figure out how to fuckin’ respect her or you can go,” Joel said through gritted teeth. “Not gonna just let you talk about her…” 

“Her is right here,” you cut him off. “Stop talking about me like I’m not fucking here. And Joel you need to lie down before you fuck something else up, Jesus…” 

Tess looked between him and you before she shook her head and stepped back from the table. 

“Good fucking luck,” Tess snapped before stalking out and slamming the door behind her. 

You looked where she had been for a moment before nudging Joel back down onto the table. 

“You done?” You asked, brows raised. “Because I don’t need you to defend me from your girlfriend, Joel. I’m still going to keep you alive even if you both hate me.” 

“I don’t…”

“Stay still.”

He gritted his teeth and stared daggers at the ceiling while you worked on him for a moment, pressing gauze into his skin for a bit before pulling it away. 

“Don’t think you’ve hit anything major,” you said, more to yourself than to him. He still grunted in response. “Stay put, I still need to get that bullet out and get you cleaned up.” 

He followed you with his eyes as you went about collecting tools, cleaning yourself up, putting on sterile gloves. He tried to focus on you without it raising his blood pressure which, he figured, wouldn’t be the best thing to do when there was an open wound on his torso. 

But it was hard. 

It had been years with you like this. More than a decade. Thinking about you too much made his chest tight, his stomach clench. Thinking about you too much made him worry he might be having a fucking heart attack, that you just might be the death of him.

But you were still who he thought about when he needed comfort. Still where his mind went when he was in pain and he needed to remember why he should try to live through it. Still what he pictured when alone at night and he thought the loss and the emptiness of his life would swallow him whole. Still where his thoughts found when he wanted to come because nothing had ever felt as good as you. 

“Think you can sit still while I get this sucker out of you?” You asked. “Because I don’t exactly have someone here to hold you still at the moment.” 

“Just do it,” Joel squared his jaw and stared at the ceiling again. 

You were quiet for a moment before you touched his bared skin with the lightest, gloved touch. 

“I really am sorry,” you said softly. “I know… We have our issues but… I really hate seeing you hurt. I really hate getting you hurt.” 

Joel looked at you, your face drawn into a frown, your eyes sad. Even now, he thought you might be the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“I know,” he said, looking back at the ceiling. 

You were quiet and he could feel your eyes on him before he felt you slip some kind of instrument into the wound. He hissed through the pain of it but kept still. 

“I know,” you said, voice gentle and soothing. “You’re OK, it’ll be OK.” 

He remembered you using that voice with Sarah. He came home from work once and his daughter was perched on the counter, sniffling, her face streaked with tears. You were talking to her in that voice, a wad of paper towel held against her knee. 

“You’re OK. It’ll be OK.” 

“You with me, Miller?” You asked after what felt like an eternity but knew it must have only been a few minutes. “Need a break?” 

“Just finish it,” he managed through gritted teeth. 

You found the bullet and planted your hand firmly on the softness of his stomach. 

“Hold still,” you said. “This is going to have to be kind of slow, there’s relatively little damage, nothing major hit and I’d like to keep it that way.” 

You pulled on it and he could feel you moving through him, through the gaping wound him, pulling the pain out into the open air. 

When you finished, you held the bullet up, glistening with blood. 

“The cause of all this trouble,” you said, turning it in the light. “Let me patch some of this up and make sure you don’t bleed out. I don’t think you’ll need a blood transfusion this time at least…” 

Joel frowned, lifting his head slightly as you set to work. 

“What do you mean ‘this time?’” 

You froze for half a second before you tried to brush it off. 

“Just, you know,” you said. “In general.” 

He watched you work for a moment. 

“Hey.” 

You glanced at him before looking back at his wound. 

“What?” 

“You had to give me a blood transfusion last time?” He asked, trying not to groan at the pain. 

“I didn’t want to freak you out,” you said eventually, tucking gauze into the wound. “But… yeah, you were down a lot of blood and… Look, I did what I had to do to keep you alive.” 

You cleaned up the skin around his injury. 

“Whose blood?” 

“What?” You asked, focused on the task. 

“Whose blood did you use?” He asked. “Don’t imagine you went down to the clinic so whose blood.” 

You were quiet and Joel was about to ask again when you spoke. 

“We didn’t know your blood type,” you said quietly. “So Tommy would have been the best option…” your voice trailed off but he knew that wasn’t the end. He kept watching you and you sighed before you kept going. “But I’m O- so…” 

He just blinked for a moment. 

“It was yours.” 

Your eyes darted to his for half a second. 

“Yeah. It was mine.” 

He was quiet as you pulled off your gloves with a sharp snap. 

You’d saved him. Bled for him, poured yourself into him so he would keep breathing. He’d walked around for who knows how long with you pulsing through his body and he hadn’t known. 

“You should have told me,” he said eventually. 

“Yeah, well.” 

You started packing up. 

“You should have…” 

“I couldn’t be sure that you wouldn’t fucking slit your wrists if you knew, alright?” You snapped. “You hated me. You still hate me but it was worse then, you’ve figured out how to tolerate me in the last decade which is great and all but Jesus, Joel, don’t act like telling you was the easy thing to do.” 

You threw your pack over your shoulder and he sat up, ignoring the pain at his hip. 

“I need to get home,” you said. “Try not to wreck all my work…” 

There was a pounding at the door that made you jump. Joel shoved himself off the table and quickly buttoned his shirt as he limped for the door. 

“Bag down,” he said quietly. “Stay back.” 

You nodded, obeying him for once in your damn life. 

He opened the door slowly, cautiously. A FEDRA officer stood at his door. 

“Can I help you?” Joel tried not to growl, tried not to do anything that would incite suspicion. Not that he could help that he had on a bloody shirt with a fucking bullet hole in it. 

“There’s been increase violence in a nearby quadrant of the QZ,” the man said, barely looking at Joel. “We’re requiring all residents to shelter in place until further notice. Is everyone here a member of your household or does someone need an escort home?” 

Joel saw you step toward the door, opening your mouth like you were about to speak, but he held his hand out behind him, silencing you. 

“Same household,” he said. “We’re all set here.” 

“We’ll let you know when it’s safe to leave,” the guard said. “Lock your door.” 

He left before Joel had a chance to respond and he shut the door quickly before slumping against it. 

“Joel!” You hissed, going to his side and looping an arm around his waist. He leaned against you and you helped him to the couch. “What the fuck were you thinking?”

“You really want to get a fuckin’ FEDRA escort home?” He grimaced. 

“No,” you snapped, setting him on the couch. “But do you remember how long they locked us down for last time?” 

“No.” 

“A week,” you said, sitting on the threadbare arm chair. “And I’d rather get a FEDRA escort than have you kill me out of frustration in three days because that’s how long we’ll last before you get that fed up with me.” 

“Jesus, you really think we can’t manage to not kill each other for a few fuckin’ days?” He settled into the couch. “You n’me have survived a lot worse than that.” 

You scoffed. 

“Have we?” You asked, brows raised. “Besides, aren’t you worried about Tess?” 

He shrugged. 

“She can handle herself better than you can,” he said and you rolled your eyes. “You that worried about gettin’ back to Derek?” 

“Worried about FEDRA showing up at my door to look for relief for the clinic and not finding me,” you snapped. “Should have just let them…” 

“Not gonna let you go out there with those fucking assholes if people are out there shooting at each other!” Joel cut you off. “Don’t trust ‘em with shit let alone with you! I can keep you safe here so you’re staying here, it ain’t up for discussion!” 

You just blinked at Joel for a moment, a shocked look on your face. 

“Think we can handle not strangling each other for a few damn days,” he muttered, looking away from you. He couldn’t really handle looking at you. You didn’t say anything. You just got up, grabbing your pack and stalking further into the apartment. He frowned. “Where do you think you’re goin’?” 

“Don’t want to be around you any more than you want to be around me,” you said. “So I’m going to Tommy’s room…” 

“Always liked his bed,” Joel muttered, grinding his teeth. 

You flipped him off, not bothering to even look at him before slamming Tommy’s door behind you. 

***

Day 1

Tommy needed better hobbies. 

It was clear Joel had barely used Tommy’s room since he’d left. There were some boxes for storage - things you weren’t about to go searching through since you were pretty sure it was full of black market things from smuggling runs - but otherwise it was exactly how you remembered it. Not that you’d ever spent much time here. You liked to avoid Joel and Tommy seemed to like to avoid him even more than you did when you were around. You’d slept here a few times, when Joel was outside the QZ but Tommy had stayed behind, but he was much more likely to be at your place than his. 

But this room was all but a shrine to him. Or maybe more of a mausoleum, something left in memory of someone who was gone and would never be back. You hadn’t really realized how much you’d missed your friend until you were back in his space, surrounded by his things. 

You also realized that, in reality, you didn’t have a ton in common. Tommy’s book collection was… lacking. He had a few tattered Tom Clancy novels and you settled on one that you were pretty sure he’d brought over to your place once or twice. 

It wasn’t really your thing, though, and you were desperately bored. You were going to have to emerge from the room eventually to do more than pee and refill your water bottle in the bathroom sink. You were almost out of the jerky you’d packed for your trip outside the QZ and you’d never been very good at sitting still with nothing to occupy your mind. 

But you’d need to check on Joel’s injury at some point, anyway. Because looking at the ex who seemed to mostly hate you but apparently flew off the handle at the thought of you getting shot. 

Which you didn’t fully understand. If anyone asked you, you’d have sworn up and down that Joel would shoot you in the street if it wouldn’t make his life harder. You were surprised he hadn’t all but tossed you to an infected in the years you’d been going outside the QZ but the fact that you did things like pull bullets out of him and stitch Tess’ knife wounds closed was apparently a good enough reason to keep you alive. 

You didn’t see how that was a good enough reason to keep you from leaving his apartment when the two of you were about to be locked down for who the fuck knows how long. What were you supposed to do with… well, any of it? 

Your head dangled over the edge of the bed when you spotted a ratty tennis ball in the corner. You tumbled off the bed and picked it up, oddly grateful to have something to function as a distraction and started bouncing it off the wall, catching it out of the air when it bounced back at you. 

“The fuck you doing?” Joel called at you from the other side of the wall. 

You rolled your eyes. 

“Keeping myself from being so bored that I jump out a window.” 

He was quiet for a minute. 

You threw the ball again. 

“It’s annoying.” 

You caught the ball and then threw it. 

“Should’ve sent me off with FEDRA then.” 

For a moment, you thought that might be the end of it. And then the door opened. 

He’d gotten changed, at least, his new shirt as clean and intact as you could really find in the QZ and he looked a little pale. You looked him in he eye and you threw the ball again. 

“You tryin’ to piss me off?” He asked, one arm propped against the door frame. 

You shrugged and caught the ball. 

“You just make it so fun…” 

You threw the ball again and he came and snatched it out of the air. You glared at him. 

“Are you trying to make me miserable?” You asked. “Because it’s getting really old…” 

“Is that what you think I’m doing?” He snapped. “Think I decided to come find you in my brother’s bed because it’s fun…” 

“Oh will you stop fucking harping on that?” You shoved off the bed and stalked over to him in the doorway. “It’s ancient history! Think it’s time to get over the fact that your brother decided to pick up your broken toy…” 

“You think that’s why I’m pissed?” He asked, brows raised. 

You ignored him, dropping to your knees and yanking his shirt up. He stopped breathing and you checked his wound before getting to your feet. 

“In a few hours I’ll change your dressing,” you said, looking up at him as you stood almost shockingly close to him. You could see the pulse in his throat. “Leave me alone until then.” 

He clenched his jaw, looking you up and down, before storming off, yanking the door shut behind him. 

Day 2 

You waited until you heard the bathroom door close before you emerged. You were officially out of jerky and sitting in a room full of Tommy’s things while being sharply aware that he was thousands of miles away from you was wearing on you fast. You needed something - anything - to distract you. 

So you darted to the kitchen, grabbed a bag of jerky, and paused on your way past Joel’s room, his door cracked open. If you were quick…

You opened the, the hinges creaking, and ducked inside. 

It was neat, orderly. Like you remembered it being years ago when you were together. There were little signs of him everywhere, enough that you’d have recognized the room as his even if you’d walked into it in a strange place a thousand miles away. Little carvings on the window sill, the watch you’d helped Sarah picked for his birthday gift on the nightstand, a cracked Springsteen CD case sitting next to a worn boom box. You resisted the urge to touch the booklet and see if it fell open to a specific page, if you could tell what he’d been looking for when picking that album. 

Instead, you went to the bookshelf that was collapsing, worn boards sagging between cinderblocks. You recognized Joel’s taste in books, a little more in line with your own. You found a Cormac McCarthy book you hadn’t read with a spine that looked comfortably warn and pulled it, almost reverently, off the shelf. 

“The hell you doin’?” 

You jumped, almost dropping the book and the bag of jerky. 

“Sorry…” 

“I say you could come in here?” 

He was standing in the doorway in pajamas, his pants slung low on his hips, t-shirt stretched over his broad shoulders. 

“I am bored out of my mind,” you said, squaring your jaw even though you knew you shouldn’t be in his room. “I got desperate.” 

“You think that’s a reason to just waltz in…” 

“No, but…” 

“Sure acting like it!” 

“Is hating me fun for you?” You snapped. “Because it sure seems like it is! I don’t know why you’d work this hard at it if it wasn’t.” 

He looked you up and down for a moment. 

“Just get the fuck out of here,” he stepped to the side and you ducked around him, all but running back to the room you’d claimed as your own. 

You settled in on the bed with your new book, resting it on your knees and trying to forget how mad Joel had been just because you dared set foot in his room, as though you didn’t live together once in another life. It had been so easy for him to forget. You’d been so easy for him to forget. 

You opened the book and tried to get absorbed in the story but were having a hard time focusing, shifting around on the bed and hoping that a more comfortable position might make it so you could let yourself fall into it. You were changing positions for the third time when something fell out of the book and flitted like a leaf down to the worn quilt. You frowned, picking it up and turning it over in your hands. 

It was a picture. A picture of you. 

“What?” You whispered to yourself, eyebrows knitting together. 

It was a photo you recognized. Derek had it in his bedroom and he’d taken it without you knowing. You were folded into an armchair in his living room, a book in your hands, hair wild with a ribbon in to keep it out of your face. When he’d developed the photo, you remembered the day he’d taken it. One of the few that you had off from both jobs in the QZ. It had been warm that day, you hadn’t bothered to put on a bra or even pants, sitting around Derek’s place in a pair of his boxers and a tank top. He’d fucked you that morning, before it got too hot, and the two of you spent the day not moving much otherwise, not wanting to spend hours sticky with sweat and miserable. 

The day stuck out to you, though, not because of the heat or because you got to spend it somewhere besides the clinic or the school. Instead, it was because it reminded you of summer days in Austin with Joel. Trying not to run the AC too much, you sat far apart on the couch wearing as little as possible with Sarah coming and going from the house with friends. He would bring you glasses of ice water or lemonade almost every time he got up, his lips finding your forehead when he pressed the cold glass into your palm, his large hand finding your ankle because he had to be touching you in some way without making both of you miserable in the heat. 

And now Joel had a picture from that day, the one where he’d been on your mind the whole time, so much that you’d given up on trying not to think of him. 

You weren’t sure how he’d gotten it. Derek may have given him a copy if he’d asked but you didn’t know how he knew it existed. And why would he want a copy in the first place? 

You looked a little closer at it, the corners curling, edges peeling. Like it had been held a lot. There was a discolored almost halo around the edges of you, like someone had been tracing over the outline of you over and over again. 

There was a sharp knock on your door and you stuffed the photo into the book again. 

“What?” You asked, tone softer than it had been when speaking to Joel in years. 

“Mind checkin’ this damn wound?” He asked through the door, his voice oddly gentle. “Since you’re here and all. Make yourself useful.” 

“Yeah,” you said. “Yeah, of course. No problem.” 

You made sure the photo was tucked away and set the book on the nightstand, keeping your fingers crossed that Joel didn’t realize which book you’d taken. 

***

Joel didn’t like that you’d taken to hiding in Tommy’s old room. 

He didn’t like that you were still here. Or so he tried to tell himself. Really, he didn’t like that you were still here without being here, like you were the ghost in his house in the same way it seemed you’d spent most of the last decade. You were just more corporeal now. 

He was used to you crossing his mind all the time. Used to the feeling that, any second now, you’d come around the corner as you finished braiding your hair or with a little bottle of nail polish in your hand or a book in fucking French tucked below your arm. He knew what to do with that. 

He didn’t know what to do with you actually here, in such close quarters. Especially not when you seemed to find such comfort in just the memory of his fucking brother - his brother who had damn near gotten you killed - and not Joel, who was actually here. 

Joel stared down the hall at Tommy’s - your - door. His wound ached. You’d checked it earlier, said there was no sign of infection and that things were coming along well. You refreshed his bandages and he’d try not to think about the way the soft skin of your arm felt when you brushed against his exposed flesh. 

That had been hours ago. He hadn’t heard a word from you since, not even the squeak of the mattress as you shifted and moved in ways he knew so well but couldn’t see. 

He shoved himself to his feet with a pained grunt and went to the door, the one that seemed to fucking haunt him now. He knocked once. 

“Yeah?” 

Your voice sounded thick. 

“Want a drink?” He asked. You were quiet. He pressed on. “Figured it was better than drinkin’ alone.” 

He gave you a minute and was about to give up on you responding when he heard small creaks on the other side of the door before it opened. 

“Whatcha got?” 

It took a few whiskeys before you stopped being quite so stiff at his kitchen table and Joel pulled out a deck of cards that had to have been old before the world fell apart but had somehow managed to stay complete. 

“Game’s Gin,” he said, dealing. “Remember how to play?” 

You rolled your eyes. 

“I’m not a total idiot, Miller.”

It was strange, drinking around you. Spending time with you in ways that weren’t required, being able to look at you in ways beyond brief, desperate glances driven by the subconscious need to never, ever forget just how you looked. The precise way your eyes were shaped or your brow arched or lips curved, the exact shade of your skin and your hair and your eyes. Because as much as he didn’t want to need these things, he did. He needed to know these parts of you the way a scholar needed to know his subject, with this obsessive, aching drive for more. 

It had never been enough before, the little pieces he was able to collect when you and Tess were distracted with other things and he could take in the new way your skin creased around your eyes, and it somehow wasn’t enough now, memorizing the way you pursed your lips as you organized your hand and the way your hair had fallen out of the braid that was tight against your skull. 

“Need somethin’ to change into?” Joel asked eventually. 

“Hm?” You looked at him over your cards. 

“Just…” he nodded to you. “Still wearin’ what you were when we came back from the run. Need somethin’ to change into?” 

“Oh,” you looked down at yourself and then shrugged. “I mean, I won’t argue with it but I don’t want to put you out. It’s not like anyone’s getting close enough to smell me. Oh God, please tell me you can’t smell me from across the table…” 

“No, Kid,” he laughed a little and took a sip of whiskey. “Can’t… can’t smell you.” 

He wondered if, below the grime of the world outside, you still smelled like lavender. 

“If you’ve got some stuff I can borrow then,” you shrugged before grabbing a card. Your face lit up a bit and you set a card down before fanning out your cards in front of you. “Gin.” 

“Well shit,” he said, looking over your cards. “You win.” 

Day 3 

He left you something to wear outside your door. 

Joel stared at the wall most of the night, telling himself it was because the fucking bullet hole was hurting more than it had been but that was bullshit. It had faded to a dull pain, one that was easily tolerable and certainly not enough to keep him up at night. 

No, instead he stared at the wall that he knew you were just beyond. His mind went over and over your face again and again, logging every single facet so he’d know the next time he was away from you for a while. But that wasn’t enough, either. He wanted to hear you breathing as you slept, wanted to salt away that information, too. He needed it, needed to add it to his collection of you. 

But you were out of reach. Asleep in his brother’s bed, the place where you’d chosen to be all those years ago and now left Joel wondering if you’d ever really left. If you’d ever have chosen Joel at all or if he’d just been a stop gap, a thing keeping you from Tommy all this time. 

It would have made sense, when he considered it. You were always softer and more open than Joel, always more like Tommy in that way. Maybe all he’d ever been was a placeholder. 

He was still awake when he heard you get up in the morning, heard you pause at the door before going to the bathroom and starting the shower. 

He hoped he’d find your hair in his shower later. 

Your hair was down and wet when you emerged, cautiously coming into the kitchen where Joel was making the shittiest excuse for coffee with instant packets that had expired so long ago it seemed like a miracle there was anything usable at all. You were in one of his flannels and sweatpants, the legs cuffed so you wouldn’t trip, your arms crossed tight over yourself. 

“Morning,” you said, glancing at him like he was a predator and you were prey. 

“Morning,” he said. “Feelin’ better?” 

“Yes, actually,” you said. He held a mug out to you and you took it with a slight frown. “Thank you.” 

He just nodded stiffly. 

“If you want to lie down,” you nodded toward the couch. “I can check your dressings again. The good news is, this might be the last time I really need to do it so…” 

Joel shrugged and obeyed, trying not to think about the sense of panic that flared in his chest at the thought of you not touching him anymore. 

It was something Joel had found almost impossible to hold within himself. There was this constant yearning, a pull towards you that was as persistent as gravity and twice as strong. He needed to be close enough to touch you, hold you, protect you. He needed to be close enough to love you. 

But standing in sharp contrast was the cold threat of you. The painful grip of it always there at the edges when he lived too long in the memory of loving you. It was a cruel and constant thing - one of the few constants Joel had found in his life in the QZ. He could let his mind wander to the memory of you asleep in his arms but, linger there too long, and the memory shifted to you pale and bleeding and nearly dead as he ran with your broken body to the clinic. The thought of you laughing all full and free with your hand on his chest would twist into you reaching for him and screaming as you were dragged away by raiders. Hell, spend too long trying to savor the memory of being deep inside you, the look on your face as you came undone under his touch, and his mind pulled him down into what McCarthy had described doing to you years ago. 

All it took was a second, a moment of Joel not protecting you when he should and you could wind up there again. He didn’t know how to live with that. He wasn’t sure he’d ever figured out how to live with loving you at a distance, either. Something that had become harsh and clear in the days the two of you had been locked down in his apartment. 

“This is looking good,” you said, nodding to yourself. Your hands were on his stomach.  “Think I can trust you not to fuck it up from here, don’t need me messing around with it anymore…” 

You got up and held your hand out, helping Joel sit up without pulling too much at his wound. 

“Thanks,” he said. “For making sure I don’t drop dead.” 

“Yeah, well,” you shrugged. “It’s what I do.” 

You gave him a tight smile and went back down the hall, Joel frowning after you for a moment before following. He knocked on the door and he heard you sigh before opening it a few seconds later. 

“Yes?” 

“Don’t…” Joel realized he didn’t really have a good reason to be standing at your door. “Don’t have to keep hidin’ in here. Sure you’re going stir crazy… Just come out here and…” 

“Do you really think that’s a good idea?” You asked, brows raised. “We’ve managed to not kill each other so far, I don’t know that we want to push it.” 

“You really think being in the same room is gonna be pushing it?” 

You laughed a little and crossed your arms protectively over yourself. 

“Honestly? Yeah, kind of. I mean, Joel, come on. This is the most time we’ve spent together just the two of us since my first trip outside the QZ and we both know how that ended…” 

“Yeah,” Joel scoffed, his blood getting hot as he saw you standing there, in his brother’s room, next to his brother’s bed. “Ended with you hating me and jumping into bed with my fuckin’ brother…” 

“Jesus Christ, you cannot be serious,” you pinched the bridge of your nose. “Joel…” 

“What?” He propped an arm against the door frame, holding himself back from stalking into Tommy’s old room like he wanted to. “That not what fuckin’ happened? You all but disappear for months and the next thing I know you’re with him. What was it, hm? Was I just who you settled for because you thought he wasn’t interested? That it?” 

“No!” 

“You just waitin’ for a chance to…” 

“I was only with him because you left!” 

You yelled it at him. You so rarely yelled, usually so measured and soft and kind in damn near everything you did. He went quiet, the silence hanging heavy between you. 

“Do you think I was interested in him before?” You asked, quieter this time. “It was always you, Joel. From the day I met you, it was always you and you’re the one who left me. You’re the one who made me live without you after you made me love you and you don’t get to judge me for what I did to survive you hating me. Yeah, I probably fucked up with Tommy, by having him be anything more than a friend but I was so alone because you made me be so alone! You left me, Joel! I’m sorry I didn’t sit there and wait for you to decide you gave a shit again, I’m sorry I tried to find some semblance of a life without you because losing you was going fucking kill me if I didn’t! So stop holding Tommy against me, stop blaming me for what I had to do to survive losing you, what I’m still doing to survive losing you, because out of all the shitty things that have happened in my life that might just be the worst one!” 

Your eyes were shiny with tears and you were standing closer to him than he’d really realized until that moment and his hands were on your skin before he fully understood what he was doing. All he knew was he needed to touch you, feel you, taste you. 

His lips were on yours and swallowed the small, surprised squeak that slipped from you as he kissed you, mouth hot and needy against you. 

He’d expected you to push him back, to be mad or hurt. Instead, you threw your arms around his neck, body curving and arching into his. Your fingers tangled and knotted in his hair and you pressed yourself so tightly against him that he could feel every line of you through his clothes. 

“Joel,” you pulled away from him ever so slightly, sounding needy and breathless. “We shouldn’t do this…” 

“Why.” 

“We don’t work,” you tugged him closer but kept your lips from him. “We just hurt each other. And you have Tess, I have Derek, it’s not…” 

“Tell me you don’t want this,” he cut you off, his eyes searching yours. “Tell me to stop and I’ll stop.” 

For half a moment, Joel thought you were going to. But you didn’t. Instead, you kissed him again, a sense of urgency on your lips, like you were trying to devour him and he longed for you to swallow him up until there was nothing left. 

He pulled you into the hall, pressing you back against the wall and ignoring the pain at his hip when he did. In that moment, he didn’t care if it killed him. He needed to be inside you, to feel you close and tight around him. Being without you now would be a more painful end than ripping himself open inside, what difference did a bullet hole make? 

Joel pushed his leg from his uninjured side between your knees, shoving them apart and pulling your hips down on his thigh. You ground down against him and moaned into his mouth as you worked your core on his leg. 

“Fuck,” you breathed, pulling ever so slightly away from him, your pupils blown and lips swollen. “Joel, you’re hurt, we shouldn’t…” 

“Don’t care,” he pressed his mouth to your throat, earning him a delicious moan that hung in his ears like syrup on the tongue. “Need you, Baby. Need you so fuckin’ bad…” 

You clutched yourself closer to him, rocking your hips on him as he pulled you back from the wall and maneuvered you to his room, his bed, the place he woke up every day and looked for you, some part of his subconscious knowing that he belonged next to you. 

Your fingers pulled at his shirt, tugging it up and over his head before casting it aside and he nudged you onto the bed, taking his shirt off your body, too. 

“Joel…” you were sitting back on your elbows, the soft fullness of your chest bared to him as he crawled between your legs. “I can’t… I can’t do this and go back to being nothing to you, Joel, I can’t…” 

He looked in your eyes, a pain in them that he found sadly familiar now but it was harsher than he was used to, like you couldn’t keep it contained now so it was laid bare. 

“Oh, Baby,” he breathed, his hands finding your waist. You closed your eyes at his touch, breath catching in your throat. “You’re everything to me, everything. Always have been.” 

His lips moved to your throat, kissing and biting at the tender skin there as he pulled your pants down and off, you lifting your hips to help before putting your hand down his front to take hold of his cock with a moan. Joel moaned, too. He couldn’t help it, your touch was burned into his memory, what he longed for more than anything else and you were touching him. Your thumb grazed the head of his cock and he shuddered at the contact, whole body on fire with aching and desperate want. 

“Need you,” he panted into your lips. “Fuck, need inside you…” 

“Good,” you pressed your body against his and he felt his head graze your soft mound. “Because I need you, too. Never stopped…” 

He kissed you and pushed you into the bed before pressing his cock into your wet heat. You moaned as you took him into yourself, your back arching. You were so warm and tight around him, Joel had to focus to not come from just the feel of your body clutching onto him. 

“Goddamn,” he looked down to where he was buried in you to the root, your fingers sinking into his bicep as you panted for breath. He could feel you breathing, feel your heartbeat from inside you. Why had he wasted so much of his life fighting this when he could have been with you instead? In that moment - when he was buried deep inside of you and he could feel you everywhere, in everything - the fear he’d been so desperately fighting against faded to nothing. There was just you and everything you held, the whole of all his wanting looking up at him in quiet desperation. “Forgot… forgot just how good you feel, holy fuck.” 

“Need you to move,” your nails dug into his arm. “Fuck, please Joel, need you to move, please…” 

He wasn’t about to say no, even as your already tight walls clenched around him. He dropped his head to your chest and pulled out of you almost entirely, until just his head was left within you, before thrusting back in hard and deep. He kissed you again as he did, swallowing your needy sounds. 

Joel tried to hold back, the echo of some pain in his body and his mind, but he was too overwhelmed by you for it to last long. You met his every thrust, working your hips back up against his own as he fucked into you. 

“Fuck, Joel,” you wrapped one arm around his shoulders, digging your fingertips into his skin as he felt you getting so tight around him it almost hurt. “Fuck, I’m gonna… Joel, I’m gonna come, I can’t…” 

“Do it,” he slid an arm below your waist and pulled you tight and flush to his body, needing to feel as much of your skin as he possibly could. “Come for me, come for me, Baby, need to feel you, have to feel you, fuck Baby…” 

You whimpered and keened as your tight channel pulsed around his thick cock, squeezing him so tight it was like your body was pulling his own orgasm out of him. 

“I’m comin’ Baby,” he pressed into you deep and hard and you clung to him as he came undone, emptying himself into you. “I’m comin’, fuck, I’m comin’ so fucking hard, Goddamn…” 

He collapsed on top of you, his cock still twitching inside you. He couldn’t remember the last time he came that hard, felt quite that drained when he was done. His head rested on your chest, your heartbeat heavy against his cheek as your fingers trailed through his hair and his cock softened inside you. 

“Fuck,” he was still panting for breath when he pressed a kiss to your breast bone and slid from your body, the pain at his hip suddenly back with a vengeance, as he collapsed beside you. 

“We shouldn’t have done that,” you said quietly, turning your head to look at him. 

“Baby…” 

“We shouldn’t,” you said, your voice thick. “You’re hurt…” 

“Good think you’re a doctor.” 

You glared at him. 

“We just blew up our entire lives, Joel,” you said quietly, eyes wet. “I’m with Derek and I just fucked you because, what, you loved me once and felt bad letting me get shot in the QZ? This was stupid, this was so…” 

“No,” he shook his head. 

“No?” You raised your eyebrows at him. “No what?” 

“No to all of it,” he said. “I didn’t blow up a damn thing. I just finally was able to admit to myself that there isn’t anything to blow up without you, don’t want any of it without you.” 

“Joel…” 

“Been too scared of it all to admit that,” he pressed on. “But I can’t keep living like that, Baby. I can’t. And I don’t think you can, either.

“We’ve already wasted too much damn time,” he continued. “But I’m not wasting another minute of it, not when I could be with you. Not sayin’ there’s not shit to figure out - pretty sure we got a decade’s worth of it - but don’t ask me to waste more time. Please. Not when it comes to you.” 

Your eyes held his as you reached a hand forward and carefully, delicately, cupped his cheek, your thumb tracing his cheekbone. He brushed his lips against the inside of your wrist, feeling the flutter of your pulse against his mouth. 

“Think we can figure it out?” You asked. You sounded so uncertain, so afraid. 

Joel’s large hand covered your own, holding you against his chin. 

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “With you, think we can figure anything out.” 

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #send asks #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #lavender #smut fic #joel miller x oc

[dustofthedailylife]

Lost And Found

-> Masterlist || → Taglist

Pairing: Welt x (gn!) Reader

Summary: You meet your old childhood friend and crush again unexpectedly and feelings you thought you had long forgotten begin to resurface.

Tags: Fluff, Jarilo-VI story spoilers, childhood friends to lovers, Reader is implied to have known Welt when they were still young so they're about the same age here

A/N: I am on my knees begging for Welt to come home, and he refuses to come home, so I'm offering this fic as a sacrifice to the gacha gods. This is also my first HSR fic! Jing Yuan will probably be the next one I write something for... he is living rent-free in my head atm :3

You were standing in line at the street kiosk for a coffee-to-go and a granola bar. Like every morning before you headed to work. Or whatever your work was, now that the Stellaron was gone. There already had been a huge amount of layoffs lately and you expected that it wouldn’t be long anymore until they would lay you off as well.

It was cold today, nothing unusual on Jarilo-VI, but you felt like it had gotten warmer, even if it was still very minuscule and barely noticeable. 

One glance at today’s newspaper revealed yet another Stellaron headline. Nothing surprising.

Silvermane Guards push back on the Stellaron Corruption further. Supreme Guardian Bronya supports the underground with the delivery of rations and supplies.

You heard some strangers from afar had come here and managed to achieve, within a bit more than a week, what people on this planet failed to do for hundreds of years. Something you failed to help with as well, despite coming here for research on the topic yourself.

“Good morning!” The barista greeted you. “The usual?”

“The usual. Thank you.” You nodded with an honest smile. 

Once served and paid, you clutched your hands around the cup to warm your hands on the steaming hot liquid. 

The brew here could hardly be called coffee when comparing it to the one on Earth, but for what it was worth it made do. All it needed to achieve was giving you a small energy boost and some warmth after all.

Walking further down the street you spotted a lot of new faces. Ever since you’ve been here the underground had been sealed, now that it was back open it was definitely great to see the streets bustling with life again. It gave you hope that things would finally take a turn for the better on this planet. 

Maybe that meant it was time for you to leave soon as well. You had no concrete plans on where to go next yet. But essentially as always, you’d just go wherever the stars would carry you.

Lost in thought you didn’t notice how the person in front of you had stopped walking, causing you to bump into them and spill the entire cup of your tastebud-offending coffee over their coat and yourself. 

Just fantastic.

“Shit, I’m so sorry. It was my bad, I should have–”

You frantically took out a handkerchief and tried to dry the clothes of the man in front of you, until he suddenly took hold of your hand, forcing you to halt your ministrations.

At that moment he questioningly called your name.

Startled by the strange yet familiar voice, you flicked your eyes up to the face of the man you had just run into. And without a shadow of a doubt; it was him. 

His friendly brown eyes still exuded the same comforting warmth as they did all those years ago. Something you thought you’d never see again in this lifetime. Not after he left Earth.

“Welt?” You carefully inquired despite being sure that the man standing in front of you was him. Your childhood best friend. The boy you had the biggest, most mind-numbing, and toe-curling crush on back in the day.

“So it really is you!” He huffed in disbelief with a wide smile and an excited sparkle in his eyes. “I never thought I’d see you again.”

“Neither did I after you left…”

You paused for a moment to take in his features. He had become old, without a doubt, but he was still as handsome as you remembered. You dare say, it made him look even more handsome than he already was back in the day. Maturity certainly suited him.

“Let's get you a new coffee, shall we?” He points out after both you and he just stared at each other for what felt like an eternity without uttering a word. 

"Oh, uh. There is no need. It was my own fault for not paying attention and bumping into you.."

"Please, I insist! Even if it’s just for old times' sake. Although you might have to lead me to a Café since I'm unfamiliar with this city. If you still wish to take me with you in my coffee-stained state, that is…"

He looked at the mess on both his and your clothes before laughing.

But who were you to say no to an old friend? Who, after all this time, still seemed to effortlessly make your heart beat an octave higher.

"I have to warn you though. Don't expect too much from the coffee here. It tastes like hot dishwater at best."

"Well, maybe I like dishwater if I can enjoy it with an old friend?"

After you arrived at one of your favorite Cafés, he led you to one of the tables and pulled out a chair for you, waiting until you sat down. Flustered by the chivalrous gesture you avoided eye contact and waited until he sat down as well before looking at his face again.

Soon after, the conversation with him just kept flowing and it felt as if you hadn't been apart for even a day. Talking to him felt as natural and calming as you remember it. At the same time, it made you painfully aware of how much you had actually missed him.

"Hey, that reminds me, I haven't even asked yet, but what brings you here?"

"Oh, right. My crew and I were responsible for the Stellaron incident." He explained.

Figures. You could've expected that it was him who was responsible for resolving the crisis on this planet the moment you found him again.

“I’m not surprised.” You chuckled. “You mentioned a crew?”

“Yes. We travel together on the Astral Express to planets with Stellaron activity.”

“So you’re essentially the Guardians of the Galaxy?” You joke.

“Something like that.” He laughed as the corner of his eyes crinkled upwards. “Travelling feels great again. When Himeko found me–”

“Himeko?” You inquired a bit too quickly as soon as you felt a pang in your chest when he dropped the name. You tried to stop yourself from doing so but it seemed like finding your old friend again made feelings resurface you thought you had long buried and forgotten. Of course, he too had moved on with his life after so long. It would’ve surprised you if he wouldn’t have found a partner, especially with how handsome he was and still is.

“Is she your wife?” You carefully speculated while trying your hardest not to look hurt by the consideration that she might be.

“Who? Himeko? No… god, no. We’re just colleagues. Friends at most.”

A wave of relief washed over you. Was it stupid to be relieved that he wasn’t in any relationship just for your own selfish reasons? Most likely. It’s not like he’d stay here with you or take you with him all of a sudden. And you shouldn’t expect him to do so either.

Your subconscious feelings were hard to suppress though. No matter how hard you tried.

“What can I get you two lovebirds?” The waitress asked when she arrived at your table with a sweet smile.

“Oh, uh, we’re not–”

“I’ll take just a normal cup of coffee. Black, two pieces of sugar please.” Welt interrupted entirely unphased and not in any rush to correct the waitress about her wrong assumption of your relationship status. He smiled and threw you a glance out of the corner of his eyes as he spoke, seemingly amused by your probably undeniably flustered state.

With a heavily beating heart, you simply ordered the same as him while trying not to sound too out of breath. Not that you were capable of thinking about coffee when your mind was racing at the speed of light.

“I haven’t had the chance to tell you yet, that you look just as stunning as I remember.” He complimented as soon as the two were back alone. 

Was he trying to kill you?

“Oh, uhm.” You cleared your throat, feeling how your face had started to burn up. “Thank you. I could say the same about you.”

The wait for your coffee would be excruciatingly slow at this rate. Where were you supposed to look or what were you supposed to say now? 

Every ability to converse like a normal human being flew right out the window the moment he complimented you. Lucky for you he seemed to have enough to talk about, so he kept the conversation flowing by telling you about what he had been up to since you last saw each other.

“Anyway, that’s enough about me. What have you been up to all this time?”, he asked as soon as the waitress served your coffee.

“Oh… I actually came here for the Stellaron myself, so I’m basically jobless now thanks to you and your crew.” You chuckled as you took a sip from the coffee. The dark brown bitter liquid enveloped your tastebuds and made you cringe for a brief moment. You would never get used to the dishwater they dare to call coffee here.

“I’ll have to see where I’ll go now. I have no concrete plans or goals. But probably trying to find another planet that might need my help.” You ascertained after a brief pause.

“Why don’t you come with us?”

Taken aback by the unexpected and sudden proposal you started choking on your coffee as soon as he had finished speaking. Despite the butterflies that made themselves known in the pit of your stomach you couldn’t help but stare at him in disbelief. Simultaneously feeling both hope and old feelings started to bloom inside of your chest once more.

“I’m sorry. I know it might be quite a rash proposal. But it seems we share the same ideals and I thought you would be a great addition to the crew.” He paused and took a sip from his cup, awaiting your answer.

“I–I… Okay. Yeah, sure. I’ll come with you.” You reply which elicited a smile and, what you assumed was, a quiet sigh of relief from him.

“I’m glad. There is so much I still wish to tell you.”

Do not repost, copy, translate or edit - © dustofthedailylife || reblogs, comments, and asks about Genshin or my fics are always greatly appreciated and motivate me! Maple dividers are mine - do not copy.

#honkai star rail #hsr #hsr x reader #welt x reader #hsr fluff #hsr fanfic #honkai star rail fanfic #honkai star rail x reader #hsr drabbles #hsr imagines #🍁 dust writes #🍁彡 hsr

[wallflowerimagines]

Bruno Madrigal Crush Headcannons

This man has spent a good portion of his life watching his family through walls, hoping and wishing and yearning for their happiness, even if it doesn't involve him.

Meaning? He has a staring problem.

Bruno actually caught feelings for you from a distance. You're just...so nice. Nonjudgmental. It's what drew his gaze to you in the first place, how everyone felt safe to be themselves around you. He didn't even need to interact with you to see how wonderful you are!

...Which is a problem.

Bruno refuses to approach you-- he can't. It's just not possible.

But he will watch you.

He watches the way you smile and laugh, he's hypnotized by the way your hair bounces when you walk, he wants to take his thumb and rub away the little furrow between your eyebrows that shows up when you're reading intently, kiss your lips every time you bite them--

(Or is that too much, hahahahahahahah-- Kill him, someone anyone please please please---)

Bruno is so, so awkward. While Tio Bruno is funny and adoring with his family, as well as hilariously sassy when he wants to be, people outside his social circle are Not Trusted with anything but The Madrigal Manners. Years of being accused of malicious intent makes it difficult for him to be fully himself in public, and the decades of isolation made him forget all the important social cues.

But you? He's exponentially worse around you.

The few times you've actually spoken with Bruno, he was both Supremely Polite and a Tongue Tied Disaster.

He comments on easy, obvious topics, like the weather or the weekend, but he talks so quickly he can't breathe and starts laughing at things that aren't even jokes. He'll open doors for you or pull out your chair, but will trip over the door frame or accidentally tip the chair over and scramble to pick it back up.

You make him a mess. You whip his thoughts so frothy he can barely remember what he's said, let alone focus on putting up a wall. It's incredibly endearing, and it makes his crush on you supremely obvious.

He's had one or two childhood crushes, but it has been literal decades since the last time his heart beat this fast. It was so bad that this idiot (affectionate) literally thought he was having a heart attack the first time you made eye contact with him--Fully clutching at his chest and panicking before darting away to get some help.

There is a certain amount of guilt he feels about his crush. After all, he's not exactly prime husband material. Bruno is acutely aware of how old he is, and there aren't many love stories out there for people his age(a crime imo). "The fifty year old uncle" is usually the creepy antagonist in drama, never a romantic hero. Besides that, there's the matter of his reputation. Even with the rest of the Madrigal family working to repair it, there are still parts of the Encanto that don't like the weird fortune-telling hermit that LIVED IN THE WALLS OF HIS OWN HOUSE FOR SOME REASON.

(....There is also a little bit of guilt of the Catholic variety. His thoughts about you can get pretty spicy late at night. After one of those he can't bring himself to even look at you.)

Bruno won't confess his feelings to you if he can help it. He doesn't think he deserves romantic love, especially not from someone as wonderful as you, and the last thing he wants to do is burden you with his feelings. He's been enough of a burden already. He will try to get over you before he even considers hinting that he likes you.

Unfortunately, Bruno's resolve isn't as strong as he wishes it was.

Every time he tries to suppress his feelings, someone will simply say your name in passing and it's enough to fully divert his train of thought back to how kind you are, how funny, how understanding....

Fantasies have always been a huge coping mechanism for him, but lately, baby you are the star of every. single. one.

Some are realistic: He pictures the two of you hand in hand, walking to the market, and he's somehow managed to be funny and charming enough to make you smile just for him.

Or maybe you have a suitcase packed and ready to leave the village--it's raining of course--and Bruno will run out to you, pull you into a tight embrace and kiss the idea right out of you.

He could live out his childhood dream and be the director of a theater troupe, while you, his newest actor shaking with nerves, ask him to run through your lines together. He agrees, comforts you through your stage fright, and as your practice ends the chemistry between you both is electric enough to crackle. He just knows you'll do great things together...

Bruno is his best self in every fantasy, of course, witty and charming and without a single grain of sand in his hair. Often, in private, he has his rats reenact his favorite daydreams. (Whichever Rat that plays you gets extra treats. It's the most coveted role.)

...Eventually, though, his wistful sighing and blatant eavesdropping on any conversation involving you start to get on his Family's nerves. They've been supportive of his crush--why wouldn't they be, they've met you, you're great!-- but it's also obvious Bruno is going to need a helping hand.

Mirabel in particular gets it in her head to play Cupid after she sees how happy her Tio gets talking about you. She gathers up the youngest generation of Madrigals, and all of them begin conspiring ways to push Bruno into as many situations with you as possible.

Isabella invites you over to help garden, while Luisa gets her Tio to come help her organize where the pots should go. Antonio begs you to play hide and seek with him and his animal friends, and it's not like Bruno can resist his nephew's puppy eyes either. Mirabel brings Bruno along to tell stories to some of the local village kids, and Camilo makes sure you're nearby to see his Tio in his element.

Bruno immediately picks up on the fact that his nieces and nephews are trying to meddle, but he can't find it in himself to get upset about it.

Besides, it's a little hard to think lately when so many of your pretty smiles seem to be directed at him...

...Maybe he has more of a chance than he thought? 💞

#crush headcannon #encanto #bruno madrigal #bruno madrigal x reader #long #headcannon #encanto bruno

[fanfic-obsessed]

Somehow Palpatine Returned

Ok I had a hilarious thought and I need to share it with all of you. I don’t normally venture into the Sequels, for all that I have been a FinnPoe and a FinnPoeRey shipper for years, or into anything close to canon,  but I want to share this with you. 

Picture if you will the moment where Poe is telling the audience that ‘Somehow Palpatine has returned’. Ponder for a moment Obi Wan Kenobi, in the Force, at that moment. The look on his face. 

We are going with, somehow, Palpatine managed to hide his real identity from the Force Ghosts so they did not know he was still alive. 

We are also, from my own personal headcanon, going with the idea that Obi Wan severely dislikes (as close to hate as he is capable of) Palpatine and has for almost fifty years at this point.  Like 90% of the horrible things that happened in Obi Wan’s adult life can be traced back to Palpatine (both directly and indirectly).

At the moment that Poe reveals that Palpatine is back, in the Force Obi Wan starts swearing. He starts swearing in every language he knows. He starts mixing languages in his swears. He starts inventing new curses and new languages to be able to express his displeasure at the news. 

Obi Wan Kenobi is about ready to materialize into the mortal plane for the sole purpose of ripping Palpatine’s arm off and beating him with it (in a way that violates all manner of physics and Force). 

Slightly to the Left of Obi Wan, Anakin Skywalker is staring at his grandson in mild horror going ‘why are you…this’. 

The Force starts manifesting people to calm Obi Wan Kenobi down (For fear that Obi Wan will break…everything). First Force Sensitives and Jedi he cared for, then Clones, then non force sensitives, even a few old enemies.  

Note 1: Maul appears at one point and screams ‘Kenobi’ for a really long time, to the point that everyone else (other than Obi Wan) looks at him. He shrugs and goes ‘I just wanted to get your attention’ then goes to sit down next to Satine so they can both score Obi Wan’s curses while splitting a bottle of Force Wine. 

Note 2: Maul and Satine have a weirdly cordial relationship for being a pacifist government official ex girlfriend of a Jedi and the Sith Warlord that murdered her in front of said Jedi, but they have found in the afterlife that they both get joy from the face Obi wan makes when they argue about something inane with him. Also they may be each scoring Obi Wan’s swears (with the occasional addition of Yoda, Dooku, Ventress, and Padme) but they are using different metrics so their scores are vastly different at all time (Maul is scoring on Creativity, Violence, and the number of organs violated; Satine is scoring on creativity, number of languages used, how poetic/rhythmic, and how well it translates into basic).

A battalion's worth of clones are arrayed around Obi Wan, taking notes. Quinlan Vos appears and vanishes in rapid succession as he helps to calm then egg Obi Wan on (at which point the Force yanks him away only to be convinced to put him back). Cody tries to calm Obi Wan down for precisely three minutes, then he realizes what has Obi Wan so steamed. At that point he goes ‘no this reaction is completely valid’ and starts discussing how one would make some of those curses a reality (as they do violate physics, the Force, and human structural integrity. Also Palpatine does not even have some of those organs) with Qui Gonn Jinn, who is deeply amused but happy to bond with his pseudo son in law. 

Plo Koon wanders through and announces that he is adopting all of the new stormtroopers both dead and living (in the mortal plane Finn, Rose, and others suddenly get the feeling that they have been absconded with and have no idea why). 

In one corner Anakin, still despairing over Kylo Ren/Ben Solo and his life choices, is having an ongoing yet supremely awkward family reunion with one or more of the following at any given point and time: his wife, whom he had a hand in killing; his daughters adoptive parents, whom he helped murder; his daughter’s husband, who he tortured, froze in carbonite, and sold to a bounty hunter; and his step brother and step sister in law that rose his son on a planet that Anakin hated, whom he only didn’t torture because he never remembered they existed; Assorted Jedi who he had been close to, whom he might of had a hand in murdering.

That one corner has so much passive aggressiveness that it is insane.  A lot of Anakin asking out loud why Kylo Ren is…like that with one or more of the previously listed people going ‘Maybe if his grandfather didn’t become a Sith, Ben wouldn’t have gotten the idea’. Which is both slightly unfair, as Anakin had been dead by the time Ben Solo was born, but also funny as anything. 

Also no one in that corner was actually discussing their elephant in the room, which was Anakin turned out to be THE PROBLEM for two decades. 

There is an ever growing parade of everyone Obi Wan has ever met being thrown at him by the Force because the Force effectively went: SHIT that is a lot of anger. Deflect.Deflect.

#star wars #anakin skywalker #obi wan kenobi #sheev palpatine #star wars sequals #poe dameron #bamf obi wan #codywan

[collecting-stories]

Sweet Nothings - Remus Lupin

Request: Remus lupin is so sweet nothing. Please I’m begging 🙏

Summary: Just Remus and the reader being cute and talking about reading aloud, eating toast, and having tea.

A/N: There's a whole paragraph about a backstory that I was going to expand on but then decided against it so now its just sitting there as backstory that goes nowhere lol.

TS Anthology Series | Harry Potter Masterlist

...all that you ever wanted from me was nothing...

Molly was still making the rounds, saying goodbye to everyone and making them each individually promise that, should any trouble arise, they would owl her and Arthur immediately. You were a tad too old for surrogate parents though you couldn't deny the warm feeling that always settled over you at the feeling of a too-tight hug and kiss on the head. Molly had a way of making you feel happy to be coddled instead of annoyed, as you so often found yourself with affection these days.

Everything felt forced and performative and overreaching, like every hug was just you trying to convince yourself that things outside of Grimmuald Place were not what they were. Kingsley passed you in the hallway on his way to the floo, nodding a goodbye as you ignored the staircase and walked into the dining room. 

In fifth year you had dated a boy whose family was friends with the Blacks and you'd been to a Christmas party with him here, where you cowered awkwardly in the corner of a room until he snuck you off to the library to make out. At the time you were 15 and Voldemort was dead (or so they claimed) and you had very little exposure to that most noble house of Black and their relatives. Now, in your late twenties, working at the Ministry with Kingsley, you found yourself well-exposed to all the inner-workings of the family drama. Both the Blacks and the Order, and supremely familiar with 12 Grimmuald Place. 

"You've got stuck washing up?" You took the short flight of steps down into the kitchen and walked to where Remus was standing over the sink (shirtsleeves rolled to his elbows and suds from the sponge clinging to his hands). 

"So it seems," he replied, shutting off the faucet and reaching for the tea towel, wiping his hands dry so he could take a sip of tea from the mug he had sitting beside the sink, "has everyone left?"

"They were when I snuck out," you reached around him, taking the mug and stealing a sip from it, "had to come all the way back here to say goodnight to you."

"Is that what you're doing?" He questioned, taking the mug back. 

"It's what I'm pretending to do," you replied. 

Your new found familiarity with the Black Family home had everything to do with Remus, who had been staying with his best friend since Mad-Eye and Kingsley had determined the house to be the safest place for Sirius to outlive his fugitive status (and probably for a significant time before that too). The house had become an unofficial gathering for the business of Voldemort's return months prior to the Order's official reinstatement and you had, in all that time, gotten to know the house and it's occupants (Remus in particular) very well. 

"It's no use," he held the tea towel out to you, a silent request to dry the dishes he washed, "Molly already knows. Which means everyone else does as well."

"What? How do you know she knows?" You asked. You knew you shouldn't be nearly as surprised as you were by the news, Molly mothered seven children after all. The woman had eyes (and ears) in the back of her head. "Also, why do you insist on washing up the muggle way?"

"It's relaxing." He shrugged, ignoring your other question for the moment. 

"Dirty dishes relax you?" You laughed, "you're a very strange man." 

"You must be quite strange then as well, seeing as you've chosen to share a bed with me." He said, voice dropping conspiratorially lower, as though he was sharing some kind of secret with you as he leaned in close. 

You nudged him away with your elbow, hands full of a plate and the rag you were drying it with. "How did Molly know?"

He shrugged, "I haven't the slightest idea, she came up to me at the last meeting and told me she knew about us. Very accusatory, I might add, as though she had caught me in the act."

"Perhaps she did," you teased, "you're very handsy you know."

"I've never been accused of being handsy before in my life," he replied, "perhaps you're thinking of yourself."

"That must be it," you teased, pinching the bit of skin that appeared just above his slacks as he reached to place some dried plates back in the cupboard. He managed to swat at your hand with his, frowning at you as if you weren't in Sirius' kitchen but in fact back at Hogwarts, some teacher just around the corner waiting to nab you. 

"I was going to set a pot for tea if you'd like some," Remus offered, setting the last of the now clean dishes back into their home before moving further down the counter to where the stove sat. 

"Depends," you mused, taking the kettle off the stovetop for him and filling it with water.

"Depends," he echoed, "on what?"

"Will you be reading?" You asked. 

Peace was hard to come by in a war, even when you were far from the actual fighting. When you'd first moved into Grimmuald Place you felt very much like you were suffocating in the morose silence of the home. There was no peace inside the walls. But then, by a stroke of luck and chronic insomnia, you'd come across Remus in the library, sitting by the fire reading and having a cup of tea. He'd happily made you one and then he read aloud to you and it was the first time since agreeing to help Kingsley and Dumbledore with the Order business (truly the first time since there'd been any inkling of Voldemort's return four years earlier) that you'd felt any semblance of peace. 

"Naturally." 

You passed off two mugs to him from the cupboard in the far corner. Sirius had 'therapeutically' broken every piece of china that his mother had perserved in the cabinet and replaced them with various (and often truly ridiculous) muggle kitchenware. The mugs you passed on to Remus now were a set that advertised muggle kings and queens of England.

"I read once that Mary Tudor was actually a witch, you know? Her mother apparently was from a pureblood family and it was rather scandalous that she married Henry. It was muggles then, I believe, that Mary was burning at the stake."

"Catherine of Aragon was a pureblood witch? I think you're making things up at this point," you replied, admiring the way the sleeves of his cardigan threatened to fall down over his hands as he worked.

"It's true, or at least the book I read claimed it to be. I've not given it the time to research properly. It also said she killed Arthur," he replied. 

"Suppose it said Mary was a slytherin?" You teased.

"Could've been." 

"Where's Sirius when I need him to tell you that you're full of shit," you laughed, "off the topic of English royalty though-"

"It's not so impossible to imagine that at least a small portion of the monarchy were witches or wizards." He cut in, insistent to make the point whether he was certain of its validity or not.

"Off the topic," you repeated, stressing the words as best you could, "I've bought you something. And you're talking such nonsense I nearly forgot to give it to you."

"You've bought me something?"

"Yes," you went back to the bag you'd brought that evening, sitting on the chair you'd once been occupying for the meeting, a few non-perishable groceries still sitting inside, and pulled out a container. "It's pumpkin butter, for your toast." You placed the small glass jar on the counter and pushed it toward him.

"Where did you get it?" He asked, lifting it and turning it over in his hands. There were no distinct markings on the outside, just a plain glass mason jar with a lid secured on.

"A market in Bathgate. Went over the weekend to see my mum...she's talking about leaving Scotland, think perhaps she means it this time." You mouth did something resembling a frown (or the beginning of one) before you forced a smile, "as it is, the seller informed me that she grows her own pumpkins and everything." 

"Looks very intriguing."

"It's a bribe, so that you'll read more Silmarillion," you explained, leaning against the counter to be closer to him. In truth, he probably didn't need to be bribed to do anything you asked of him, he simply needed to be asked. And sometimes, not even. But he had claimed, after the last evening you spent reading together over a kettle of tea and plates of jammy toast, that he was going to quit reading to you if you didn't stop falling asleep.

"I was only teasing, before," Remus clarified, an especially soft look on his face, as though he believed that you had taken him seriously when he said he wouldn't read with you anymore, "I'm not really bothered that you fall asleep. I know you've been having trouble getting rest."

"Says you, when was the last time you had a good night's sleep?" You questioned, buttering a skillet to toast bread on, "the last time you fell asleep it was sitting up, trying to read the daily prophet over a bowl of porridge."

"Yes, I remember," Remus replied, thinking of the porridgy goop that had stuck to his elbow when he'd accidentally dropped his arm into his bowl.

"We both need sleep then," you replied. "Desperately it would seem."

"How do you suggest we go about getting it? Considering how busy you are during the day and how adverse I am to napping in the afternoon."

"We go to bed at a reasonable hour?" You offer, laughing on the end of the sentence. There hadn't been a night this week that hadn't been overtaken by a meeting. If not a meeting then simply someone (Mad-Eye or Kingsley or someone equally in a hurry) dropped in to give news or request assistance or speak in hushed tones to the three of you in the kitchen about the changing climate of the wizarding world. Even Grimmuald Place seemed unable to shelter you from the chaos that reigned outside. 

"Splendid idea, are you suggesting we start tonight?" He asked, glancing quickly at his watch as if to remind you how late it was already.

"Seems a shame to waste perfectly goody slices of bread...and you've only just made tea," you replied. Despite your own suggestion you weren't the slightest bit tired and imagined you wouldn't even begin to be until you had finished off your toast and tea and were bundled in Remus' cardigan listening to him read aloud. 

"Excellent point," Remus noted, not ready to fight with sleep either, "shall we head to the library?"

"We should light a fire this time," you suggested, and then, "oh god! You think that's how Molly knows?"

"What?" 

"Do you think that's how Molly knows we're together?" You clarified, though not enough because Remus still looked somewhat confused.

"How? I don't know what you're referring to."

"When Arthur flooed in...to see about the incident near Buckingham and we were-"

"Ah," Remus cut you off, his cheeks going red at the reminder, as though he were not a man in his mid-thirties, perfectly allowed to do what he wanted (or who he wanted, in this case) without being shy about it. "I would say so yes."

"Well best to light a fire then, don't want to shock anyone else, even if Molly has put the word out."

"Are you expecting something to happen?" He asked, following you out into hallway, mugs of tea in hand.

"I have two very distinct reactions to you reading aloud Remus," you replied, "who's to say what tonight's will be."

"Merlin's beard."

#collecting stories imagine #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin fanfic #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin drabble #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin x you #gender neutral reader #hp imagine #hp fanfic #hp fanfiction

[oblooga]

It's you and I

Synopsis: (fem!reader) best friends to lovers with a hint of fake/misunderstood dating :)))

Characters: Kazuha, Al-Haitham

Author's note: SPOILERS FOR 3.4 STORY QUEST (Alhaitham's part!! though now Fontaine is released idk if anyone still hasn't done Sumeru but I'm putting this here just in case^^)

This is a gift for @kazumist for the @solarisfortuneia Summer Santa event!! This was supremely fun to write, I have no idea how to write Alhaitham though, so forgive me if he's a little OOC. I hope you like it :))))

P.S. lyrics is from "poster boy" by Lyn Lapid-- I was looping the song while writing this

Kaedehara Kazuha

The vision hunt decree is finally over, and with it ends the bloodshed and violence that has lingered on your doorstep for years. With a brand new day free of bitter purple lighting comes new beginnings, new futures, and new-old friends returning to their homeland. 

One such friend is Kaedehara Kazuha.

You’ve known each other since you were little— dressed in nappies, sharing childhoods, summers spent racing in fields of gold and exploring caves filled with shimmering blue flowers. He had to flee when the vision hunt decree bore down his back– you still remember sending him away on a night dark as the loneliest shadows, holding back your tears as you watch the solidarity boat sail away from the harbor. 

(away from you.)

But ages have past, regimes have changed, and he can finally return home. Your family has agreed to house him, on account of his precious abode being completely destroyed in the Vision Hunt Decree.

And…also due to a big misunderstanding, as you were about to find out. 

“Y/n, where’s that boyfriend of yours? Didn’t you say he’d be here by noon?” Your mother calls from the kitchen, bustling around as she prepares lunch. 

You spit out the tea you’d been sipping, “I—I’m sorry, what boyfriend?”

“You know? That white haired boy with the red streak that lived next door? Kazuha?”

“Mom,” you groan, “he’s not—“

“Did someone say my name?” A voice calls from the doorway, gentle as the breeze sweeping through golden fields, fondness and amusement settling in its tone like leaves falling in autumn. 

In the doorway of your home stands Kaedehara Kazuha, looking every bit the same as you’d last seen him, just a bit taller and a bit more weary of the world. But he brightens up and chuckles when you leap into his embrace and cling onto him like an overzealous Bake-Danuki. 

“I missed you!! It’s been boring without you, Inazuma has changed so much and everyone’s talking about how—“

“Hello to you too, Y/n, how have you been? It’s been quite a while hasn’t it,” he mumbles into your hair as you continue to yammer on animatedly about the things he's missed.

“Y/n,” your mom calls from the kitchen, exasperated, “why don’t you let the poor boy into the house before you talk his ear off? Lunch is almost ready, please can you help set the table?” 

“Of course,” Kazuha cuts in smoothly before you’ve even had a chance to reply, patting your head and letting you down gently before sauntering into the kitchen. 

"How can I help you, Ma'am?" He smiles at your mom, helping hold the oven door open as she shoves a giant seasoned chicken inside.

“Oh, you’re a man after my heart,” your mom titters, smiling good naturedly at him, “just as how you’ve captured Y/n’s heart, hmm?” She turns and winks at you, and Kazuha smiles. 

“Well, I’m not quite sure about that just yet,” he says, glancing at you and raking his eyes over your flushed and confused face. “But I most certainly would like for it to be true," he murmurs, as he sends you a shy but sure smile, raising his brows at your reddened cheeks. 

“Ka-Kazuha,” you start flusteredly, “wh— you’re– w–wh–"

"Ah, young love," your mom sighs dramatically, and shoos the both of you out of the kitchen. "Nevermind helping me out, the both of you are so besotted with each other it'll be hard to get any work down. Off you go!" 

And so Kazuha easily gets out of the kitchen work that you've been subjected to for the many years you've lived in this house. You can't even be surprised– there's just something about the boy that is so soothing, so silently charming, that draws one in as unnoticeably as the autumn wind that comes every September.

"Kazuha, should we talk about this? We're not… you're… what are you doing?" You ask him hesitantly, trailing behind as he leads you out of the house and into the gardens. 

"Well– it'd be rude to ruin your mom's fantasies, right?" He grins, turning to a stop in front of you. "She seems so happy to have me around that…I'd feel slightly guilty if we tell her we're just friends and ruin whatever extravagant wedding she'd hold in the future." 

"You–!" You blush immediately, mind wandering to satin gowns and lavish kimonos and Kazuha in draped in silks and– "--married???"

"I mean, it wouldn't be so bad would it," his voice quiets to a hush, something unreadable in his smile as he leans over you and gently removes a leaf from your hair. "Well, maybe not getting married just yet," he says, making a face, "but maybe-- you dating me. As besotted with each other as your mom thinks we are," he chuckles, and turns away before you can fully decipher the feelings on his face.

And it's not…it's not as if you haven't thought of it before. Young as you were when you first met, a large part of your life was spent with Kazuha. You didn't know when your relationship developed from neighbours to best friends, but you'd never trade for anything the long nights spent dashing through starlight-fields, swimming in the salty ocean and chasing each other through the winding streets of town. He'd grown from a chubby boy into a lean man, the carefree, easy smile on his face never failing to cause butterflies in your stomach, ones that you've dismissed to be teenage hormones, before you realized said hormones were specifically centered around him. They say distance makes the heart fonder, and perhaps it's true, for both of you, because he's come back and seemed to have changed his mind about you. Changed his heart about you. (centered his heart around you.)

And… perhaps you had too. 

"Alright," you say slowly, unable to resist grinning at the full-blown smile that breaks across his face like the sun rising after a cold, lonely night. "We can try…this, whatever this is, out. No more faking though, for real this time, except we don't tell my mom it was ever fake because I don't want to sit through another of her lectures."

"Deal," Kazuha laughs, taking your hand in his and pressing a kiss to your knuckles, something in his eyes sparkling with an intensity that promises of a bright future. "I promise I won't breathe a word of your deceit–" he gets a snack on the shoulder for that– "to your mom, if you let me eat your caramel pudding."

"Hey!" You exclaim, wrinkling your nose at him, "just because you're now my boyfriend does not mean you get dessert rights-- get back here this instant Kazuha--!"

And so, in the season of autumn, in spite of the things that wither and fall and fade away, a brilliant and steadfast relationship begins to bloom.

2. Alhaitham

“Date me.”

You push your head up from where you’ve been laying on the table, turning bleary eyes to an ash-haired scholar standing next to your desk. “Hmm—?” you yawn, your brain too foggy from sleep to process his words. 

“Date me,” Alhaitham, academic-rivals-turned-study-partners-turned (begrudging)-best-friend, repeats impatiently.

You finally process his words and frown, blinking the sleep out of your eyes to sit up properly and stare at him. “Are you— are you alright? Did you eat breakfast? Did you ingest something Kaveh oh Archons above Kaveh better not have—“ 

“The Akademiya has proposed a “Day of Love”,” he cuts in, ignoring your spew of genuine concern, “to celebrate the passion and affection shared between romantic lovers. And also as an excuse to take a day off from their work I suppose,” he tsks, “which in any case brings me back to the question I’ve had the misfortune to ask for the third time— will you go on a date with me?” He crosses his arms and stares more intensely at you.

“…Aren’t you the Acting Grand Sage? Can’t you just get them to cancel this "Day of Love"?” you question, and he turns surprisingly defensive and brushes you off immediately. “No can do. It’s central to the welfare of the people of Sumeru.” Your suspicion deepens. You're not sure how… celebrating love and passion can increase the happiness of people of a country that had just experienced a never ending time-loop– okay, maybe you can see the point. 

"I mean…sure I guess…?" You shrug and agree, seeing how Alhaitham doesn't seem to be willing to let this go so easily. 

Which leads to your Saturday being spent on a date with someone you'd once thought didn't even have the word love in their vocabulary. 

Sumeru City was decorated to the nines, pink fairy lights stringed across branches of lush greenery that sprawled across the city, couples everywhere sharing giggles and smiles and kisses. It is all horribly romantic and a part of your heart can't help but flutter in anticipation, for what– exactly, you're not sure, but there is definitely a sense of love in the air. 

Not that the man besides you seems to notice any of it. Al walks at his usual brisk pace, dragging you through stalls of street foods and tiny trinkets, offering his (entirely unasked for) professional opinion on every item you land your sight on. It feels less like a date and more like…a research trip, if you were being honest. You've learnt more about the symbols of love than you'd ever asked for, and you can feel the romantic bones in your body draining of calcium by the minute. 

Although that isn't to say you aren't enjoying yourself. Al follows patiently behind you when you wander off to coo at some shiny necklace (which he purchased behind your back and sneaked into your purse), does not laugh at you when you stuff your mouth full of shawarma warp (although you can see the curl on his lips that belies his seriousness), and only sighs when you make him climb to the very top of the city to watch the sunset with you.

"What a day," you sigh contentedly, turning a fond smile at him. "Did you enjoy the date, Al?" You tease, leaning forward to poke at his nose as his blank expression develops into a scowl. 

"I have procured a valuable amount of information and experience that will be quite useful to me in writing my… future endeavors," he replies, returning your poke with a pinch of your cheeks. 

"Aha!" You exclaim, eyes widening and pointing at him. "I knew there was more to this! No way the Acting Grand Sage would ask me out on a date with no ulterior motive. Be honest, will you? Did you assign yourself a research on the topic of love because your life lacks so much of it?" You tease, watching him cross his arms and avoid your gaze entirely.

He remains silent for far too long, and your attention returns back to the scenery in front of you. Clouds laze across a purple pink sky, the sun had long set and only left behind ghosts of its golden rays that haze over Sumeru like a shimmering fairy, dancing betweens people lounging on benches and sprawled out on grass, enjoying the final moments of a beautiful day.

"...It was my idea."

"Hm?" You turn back to face the scholar, who's still looking resolutely ahead. Belated realization hits you, and you give him a smile of fond exasperation. "I knew it, Al, it was for a paper wasn't it? You could've just asked me to help, instead of only now revealing your big, evil intention. You know, I wouldn't have minded–"

"But I would," he cuts in, finally turning to face you. Those teal green eyes stare intensely into yours, red irises blazing as bright as the sun that sank low over the horizon. 

"You would…?" You trail off in confusion.

"I would've minded," he continues, leaning close enough that you could smell the scent of tattered book and dried ink that clings to his sleeves, "if you thought I had a big, evil intention in mind. Because you see," he says, hints of amusement coloring his features as you flusteredly back away from his advances, "I absolutely could've canceled the "Day of Love"."

"I was the one who proposed the idea after all."

He smirks at you with self-satisfaction, that hint of arrogance and unbeatable intelligence showing through before he schools his features back into nonchalance. Not without a new-found assumed tilt to his lips, of course. 

"Wh–huh?" Your mind was whirring at extremely high speeds, brain unable process the implications his words offer. 

The pink skies hold no candle to the pink staining your cheeks– as the clouds gather speed and the golden rays depart you finally realize what his words mean. 

"So you– you basically forced this "Day of Love" onto Sumeru to ask me out??" You say incredulously, turning a look of equal disbelief and hysteria on him. 

"I wouldn't say forced– it really is central to the welfare of the people of Sumeru," he mutters, once again avoiding your eye, trying to affect complete nonchalance again. 

"Oh Al," you giggle, and lay your head on his shoulder. He tenses, but then you feel his body relax as he gingerly settles an arm on yours. 

"All you had to do was ask."

thanks for reading!

#genshin impact #fanfic #genshin fanfic #imagines #fluff #alhaitham #alhaitham x reader #kazuha x reader #kaeya x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin imagines #genshin x reader #fiction #best friend to lovers

[white-wolf-buckaroo]

Chapter 1: Percy becomes supreme lord of the Bathroom

First official chapter for 'In his own twisted way', my daughter of ares fic! <3

Word count: 8800 ish words

Warnings: none I can think of (english is not my first language, though, don't kill me if there are any mistakes please)

Updates will be tuesdays! <3

Fic masterlist here!

Olympians. The Gods and Goddesses of Ancient Greece, powerful, strong, eternal, immortals, seen as myths and stories told throughout the centuries. However, they are no myths, but real, and they still exist to the date. Omnipotent. Immortal. Unreachable.

Or, maybe not so out of reach: they’ve watched generations of mortals roaming the earth, and they often walk among them, disguised as one of them. But still, gods and goddesses, strong and powerful, and a different race from the common humans. They have lived thousands of lives, interfering at will in mortal affairs, seeing the world as their battlefield, and the people living there as their pawns. Because the gods can’t break the holy rules, but mortals… that’s a loophole many, if not all of the gods and goddesses have used in their favour throughout history. And because they needed powerful weapons as their pawns to execute their demands, they created half-bloods. Demigods. Mortal descendants born out of their union with a mortal companion, capable of fighting in the divine realm of existence, while living in the mortal world.

And so, over the years, decades, and centuries, demigods were born into the mortal world, some even reaching Olympus, the glory, kleos, and becoming part of the mystery that surrounds the story of the gods.

Myths aside, half-bloods still exist. Half mortal, half god, all real. And even if it sounds like a privilege to be a part of the gods bloodline… well, not many demigods will agree with that. Not only because they are in constant danger, it’s scary, and most of the times it only got them killed in very nasty ways, but also because they didn’t really fit into the human world, and they had to live up to their parents expectations, all the time. To make them proud, to honour them, and to show off their power.

And all of that is pretty difficult to do when the gods turn out to be shitty parents who don’t really deserve all that self-sacrifice.

Emily wasn’t indifferent to all of that.

As one of camps’ longest all year-rounders, she was well versed in the art of being the child of an absent godly parent. She trained, she learned, and she fought for glory, yes, but most importantly, to be worthy of her father’s attention and love. At twelve years old, she was one of the best fighters of her cabin: the children of Ares. Only her older sister, Clarisse, reached her level of skill; they fought on many occasions, both in the arena and outside of it, always to prove that they were better than the other one.

But Emily didn’t really care about being better than Clarisse, not really. She only trained, and fought and worked so hard to be the top warrior of her cabin, if not camp, to make her father proud. And she hoped that, if she would actually make him proud, she would finally see him again.

Not that she hadn’t seen him since he had left her at camp half-blood, no. Every winter, during the winter solstice ceremony, she encountered him. But he kept to himself, every single time for the last years. He didn’t acknowledge her or any of her siblings, and when the presentations were over, he always ran out of the room before she or her brothers or sisters could try to talk to him.

That’s why she had hope that if she stood out, maybe he would love her again like he did in the past.

“Are you listening to me, or are you daydreaming again?”

Emily turned her gaze to her left, where Annabeth was looking over at her questioningly. They were laying on the grass in a clearing of the forest, the afternoon light giving a golden glow to the top of the trees surrounding them. They were done with training for that day, having had a friendly competition about who of them both would hit more bullseyes at archery practice; Emily won, like she usually did, although Annabeth was also very skilled – Ares’ kids usually had a better aim for throwing weapons, or something like that. It’s what Annabeth always said when Emily ended up with a higher score than her.

“I am listening to you” Emily shifted her gaze back up to the sky, watching a round and fluffy cloud fly by “But I was also thinking about dinner. I can do both”

“Sure. So what was I talking about?”

“Something boring about an architect you read a book about”

“That was five minutes ago!” Annabeth laughed, shaking her head “And it’s not boring”

“Why do you think I started daydreaming? To not fall asleep!”

“You’re incorrigible” she huffed, although she was also smiling slightly.

“But I’m still your best friend, so I must be doing something right”

“I guess” Annabeth shrugged, sticking her tongue out to Emily. They both giggled “I was talking about capture the flag”

“Don’t tell me you’re nervous” Emily scoffed, looking at her “You’ve won three times in a row. You’ll manage a fourth”

“No one has won four consecutive rounds in a very long time. Everyone is waiting to watch me fail”

“That’s not true. I want to see you succeed”

“Shouldn’t you be on your teams side?” she raised one of her eyebrows, sarcastically. Annabeth fought with the rest of the Athena cabin, and Emily with the Ares cabin. The other cabins allied to one or another of them, but the main rivals in battle where always Ares and Athena – seemed logic, considering they were both deities of war “Don’t tell me you’ll just give me your flag. I don’t want an easy win”

“Of course I won’t do that. I will fight, tooth and claw, to get my victory. But that doesn’t mean that I won’t be happy if you win. You deserve it”

“Thanks, Emi”

“You welcome, Annie”

“Now… as I was saying a few minutes ago-“ she started talking about the architect again, and Emily groaned, sitting up “Hey, I’m trying to educate you. Better listen”

She wasn’t going to do that, not today. Fortunately, she found her escape: Luke was approaching the clearing where they lay, and he waved at her when he spotted Emily watching him.

He had arrived at camp with Annabeth five years ago, when Emily was seven. He was older than the girls, and he was like an older brother for the both of them; sure, they had their respective siblings at each of their cabins (Ares’, Athena’s and Hermes’), but the bond these three shared was genuine, and went beyond their heritage.

“It’s almost time for dinner!” he called out, a few steps away “Come on!”

They rose up, and met Luke halfway there. All three of them wore camps’ official orange t-shirt, like everyone else, and their summer camp necklace’s rested above the fabric, with the beads they earned at the end of each summer adding various pops of colour. However, they didn’t have identical pendants: Luke had five beads, like Annabeth, but she also had added her father’s college ring to the necklace after he sent it to her. Emily’s had not five, but six beads, and also a silver ring.

Ares had given it to her… a long time ago. When things had still been better between them.

“How’s my favourite duo doing?” although the three of them usually hang out together, there was always a duo in a trio “Heard you had fun at archery”

“I did. Annabeth not so much” Emily grinned at her friend, who rolled her eyes “Hey, let me have my win. If I competed against anyone from cabin seven I wouldn’t stand a chance”

They greeted some satyrs on their way to the dining area, and then separated to their respective tables: there were strict rules against sitting at another god’s table, so they were forced to eat with their siblings. Emily had a good relationship with most of her brothers and sisters, at least a cordial one; none of them were as close to her as Annabeth or Luke were, but they got along nicely. Then there were others, those of her siblings who stood more to Clarisse, her rival, who weren’t as nice to Emily. She wasn’t naturally prone to being mean to anyone, even if they weren’t friendly towards her, but after years of constant disrespect, Emily had had enough, and they knew that she could set her foot down if they caused her too much trouble.

Dinner went as usual, with camp being full of demigods, so the pavilion was bustling with voices and conversations, even if there were tables unoccupied, like the one’s for the children of the big three (who weren’t allowed to have children anymore, as they were too powerful), or the one dedicated to Artemis (which was only used by the goddess’ hunters if they ever visited camp… which usually never happened).

Chiron was also back at camp after being absent for some weeks at the end of the school year; Annabeth and Emily had been theorizing about the reasons for his departure, as he had never left camp for so long in the years they had been there.

“Do you think some demigod got into trouble on a quest and he has went out to help?”

“Well, maybe… but it has to be something important if Chiron himself had to go. He never leaves camp; he’s almost like… part of the décor or something”

“What if he left because… the quest he’s promising me is arriving?”

“You mean the one he’s been promising you for years? The one fated to a new demigod we haven’t even met yet?” Emily knew of her best friend’s aspirations, of her dreams. Annabeth was one of the strongest warriors at camp half-blood, head counselor at her cabin, and one of the smartest persons she knew. The only way left to prove herself, was to go on a quest, but Chiron had never allowed her to. She would only be able to when, according to the centaur, a demigod arrived who was fated to go on a quest not even Chiron could prevent – Annabeth had received that information under strict confidentiality, so of course only she and her best friends knew of it.

“Well, it could be. It’s been five years. How much longer can it take?”

“Keep studying the newbies, then. Maybe one of them will be the one”

But none of the new half-bloods at camp that summer seemed to be… something special – not that being literally children of Greek gods didn’t make them special. They just weren’t what Annabeth was waiting for.

That is, until one day, or specifically, one night, a new demigod made it to Long Island.

When Emily went to bed that evening, she didn’t expect to be woken up by a commotion before sunrise; it had been raining during the night, although it didn’t rain directly at camp because of the special weather conditions they had there, with the faint sound of water droplets echoed inside the cabins, almost soothing, until another sound joined its melody: frantic screaming, that came from someone running down the hill that led to Thalia’s tree.

Emily and her siblings made their way out of their cabin, like everyone else did, curious to know what had happened, and they saw Grover, dressed in a human attire, completely drenched from head to hooves. He ran to the big house, screaming and limping a bit, and soon after he got there, he walked out alongside Chiron, who dismissed everyone back to their beds, except the head counselors from each cabin.

At the Ares cabin, Clarisse was the head counselor. It wasn’t a title Emily really craved, but the power it held gave her sister some advantages, like right at that moment, being able to go alongside Chiron up the hill to see what had happened, while Emily had to stay behind. Annabeth was head counselor of her cabin, just as Luke was of his, so they both left as well, leaving her alone with a pout.

When Annabeth came back, though, she went straight to Emily, who was already waiting for her sitting in front of Athena’s cabin; there was no way in hell she would ask Clarisse about what had happened if she could just ask her best friend.

“He’s the one. He has to be”

Apparently, they had found an unconscious boy who looked around their age up at the hill. According to Grover, they were trying to make it to camp, when the Minotaur showed up, and attacked them; the boy, whose name was Percy, fought the monster, and he won.

Emily couldn’t deny that that was impressive. She had never fought monsters besides the ones she found at camp’s forests’ or the ones they sometimes brought in for training, but she knew it wasn’t an easy task, let alone if you didn’t have any experience.

“Grover said Percy’s mom was also with them” Annabeth grimaced “Grover believes that… the Minotaur killed her”

“Oh” Emily had lost her own mother when she was little, and she still remembered the pain of losing her and not having her there; she still felt it from time to time. Her thoughts went to Percy, as she knew it would be hard for him “Wait… he only believes the monster killed her? What do you mean?”

“They searched for her, but they didn’t find anything anywhere down the hill. Grover said that… he saw her vanish, like the monsters do when you kill them, just as when the Minotaur was trying to squish her”

“That’s not how humans die”

“I know” Annabeth bit her lip, deep in thought “So many questions and so little answers… But I have a strong feeling about this, Emi. He could be the demigod I was waiting for”

Said demigod spent the rest of the day, and the following night, sleeping in the infirmary. Annabeth, embracing her rebellious side, wanted to go see him herself that evening, and Emily tagged along, full of curiosity for the new boy.

“That’s him?”

“Is there anyone else unconscious here that I’m not seeing?” it was thundering above camp, the sounds of the storm muffling their voices.

“Hush, you” Emily frowned, watching the boy “Is he…?”

“Yeah, he’s drooling” Percy kind of blinked his eyes open then, catching a glimpse of Annabeth standing at his bedside; he asked her where he was, and the only thing she came up with saying was ‘you drool when you sleep’. He looked baffled at her, mumbling a ‘huh?’, and then he fell back into dreamland.

“That was a perfect meet cute moment you two had there, Annie”

“Now you, hush”

The next morning, after breakfast, Luke took both Annabeth and Emily to the side, and told them that he had met Percy.

“He’s staying with us until he gets claimed” that was standard protocol for newcomers who didn’t know who their godly parents were, as Hermes was, amongst other things, the god of travellers “He seemed… pretty rough. No one can blame him though; fighting the minotaur, losing his mom, and what he thought was his life… all of that in one night. It is tough, but so seems he”

“Did he really have the minotaur’s horn? I heard Chris talking about it” Luke answered yes to Emily’s question, and she whistled “Not bad for an untrained demigod”

They didn’t see Percy for the rest of the day, though, not even during the meals; he ate at his cabin after Luke went back after lunch or dinner with something for him. Apparently not even Grover could get him to talk much.

Emily imagined that if she had arrived at camp under the same circumstances as him, she probably wouldn’t act all that different; her case was also one of the rarest ones of them all, as not many of the demigods had been personally escorted by their godly parent to camp. She felt empathy for Percy, wishing he would settle in quickly.

“I’ll talk to him tomorrow” she told Annabeth, before they went to bed “You should come too. Get to know him if you think he’s the one”

“I’ll stick to my observations for now. You can debrief me later about what you think of him after you guys talk”

“Sure thing, ma’am, yes, ma’am”

Percy walked out of the Hermes cabin alongside Luke, Chris Rodriguez and other Hermes’ children the next morning, wearing his orange camp half-blood shirt and his (for now) bare necklace. Emily watched him from the entrance to the Ares cabin, and she made her way towards them when she spotted Clarisse walking in the same direction; she was accompanied by her most loyal supporters, which were some of hers and Emily’s siblings, and she had that smile on her face that Emily knew all too well. She was about to do something bad.

Clarisse bumped her shoulder against Percy’s on purpose, and when he exclaimed ‘hey!’, she shoved him on the chest, and he ended up on the ground. Emily reached them when Chris helped Percy up, while Clarisse was asking her audience if that was really the kid who had killed the minotaur.

“Look, you want attention around here, dummy? You better be ready for it when it comes” she pretended to shove Percy again, and he jumped back, defensive. Clarisse only laughed, until she saw Emily appearing behind the rookie.

“Back off, Clarisse”

“Or what? Are you gonna call daddy to lecture me?” she mocked her, laughing again, accompanied by their siblings’ mocking snickers. 

“I’ll just win again next time we fight at the arena” this time it was Emily smiling victoriously “And I’ll ask Luke to join me. It’ll be fun, don’t you think?”

Clarisse only huffed, and she walked away followed by her congregation. Luke high-fived Emily, while the rest of the Hermes’ kids dispersed as well.

“Well she seems nice” said Percy sarcastically pointing at Clarisse’s back.

“Ares kids” Luke rested his hands on his hips, also looking back at the girl who had just left “They come by it, honestly. Except Emily, of course… unless you steal her dessert” he smiled at his friend, and she took that as the clue to introduce herself.

“I’m Emily, by the way” she waved at Percy, now feeling slightly awkward “As Luke said, I’m in cabin five. Ares”

“So that girl is your sister?”

“Technically half-sister, but yeah. She can be… a bit difficult if she wants to. Sorry for that”

“That’s a way of putting it nicely” Percy had met many, many bullies in the last few years; he had been at plenty of schools, and some of them he couldn’t even really recall, but he remembered every single bully “Why doesn’t she mess with you two?”

“She knows better”

“Luke’s the strongest swordsman at camp” explained Chris, who had sticked around “And Emily has been her rival since the know each other. Always competing to be the best of their cabin, at everything”

“So… you mean that they leave you alone because of glory?” Luke had been explaining the concept of what glory (or kleos, in Greek), meant to the heroes, that is, the demigods; if you had kleos, you had fame, and the people knew that you had done something to be respected “So if I get glory, Clarisse wouldn’t mess with me either?” Luke said ‘exactly’, although Emily knew better than that; she knew her sister better than Luke did: Clarisse would still mess with Percy even if he gained kleos, but maybe she just wouldn’t do it everywhere, at any hour, and all alone against him “And my dad’s got no choice but to claim me!”

“That’s something you can’t control” Emily looked Percy in the eyes, shaking her head “You can’t just… force the gods to do anything. Trust me. It doesn’t work like that”

“Well, yeah, but… it would make it harder for him to pretend I don’t exist and not claim me, right?”

He seemed to have a point.

As Percy’s current cabin counselor, Luke took it upon himself to introduce the new boy to all the activities at camp half-blood – this is, with Emily’s help, of course.

“A good source of glory are feats of skill. We just got to find out what you’re good at”

They took Percy to archery practice, where Apollo’s children excelled. When he ended up shooting his arrow at the opposite side where he had to, almost hitting a bunch of demigods standing there (now, laying on the ground to avoid the flying arrow), they figured he didn’t belong in cabin seven.

“Skill comes natural, yes, but training is also important” Emily showed Percy how to properly use the bow (especially to know how to not accidentally almost kill everyone around him), hitting almost perfectly the bullseye “Even if you’re not initially good at something, if you work on it, you’ll improve”

“How long have you been training?” Percy thought she looked his age, maybe a bit younger, but she couldn’t be older than twelve.

“Since I was six. That’s when I first got to camp, and I always stay for the full term, so I’ve gotten many more practice hours than the average summer campers”

“You’ve been living here since you were six?” he couldn’t believe it “For real?”

“I don’t have anywhere else to go, and there are monsters outside of camp, so I need the training”

“So you’ve never been outside of here in like… five years?”

“Six years, and no. Chiron sometimes takes us out on… field trips, I guess. And then there’s the winter solstice ceremony, and other gatherings half-bloods can attend”

They went to the strawberry fields, but Percy’s gardening didn’t improve the growth of plants in any special way, so he definitely wasn’t a Dionysus kid (for which Percy seemed very relieved about).

“So… Percy?”

“Yeah?”

“No, I mean, your name” Emily talked to him while they walked back to the more secluded part of the camp, on their way to the forges, where Hephaestus kids worked “I’ve never met a Percy. I remember that… when I was really little, at my mom’s, she would show me these movies and… I think there was one where there was a dog named Percy”

“I… uh…cool. But my mom told me that she named me after Perseus. You know, the hero who killed Medusa. There is a statue of him in the Met museum”

“I know who he is, don’t worry. He’s technically my uncle. Well, mine, and from most people here. Maybe yours too!”

“It still feels kinda weird to me, all of this” he lowered his voice as they kept talking, seriousness invading his expression “I’ve only ever had my mom. Where was my dad when we needed him? The rest of the gods? All you people?”

“Those are the questions most demigods ask themselves once they get here” Luke piped up from a few feet away, looking sadly at him “Why didn’t they tell me sooner? Why wasn’t my dad with us? Why does it have to be me?” his words resonated with Percy’s feelings deeply “But now you’re not by yourself anymore. You have us. And who cares where our parents may be, as long as we have each other”

“Thanks… I guess”

They didn’t have much success at the forges. Percy started out well… until he accidentally threw a burning piece of metal over to a pile of fabric, that burst into flames. Luke sneakily got the three of them out of there before it got worse, and before anyone could notice they were gone, pretending that they didn’t have anything to do with that.

“So… not Hephaestus, apparently” Percy made a face, defeated. They were at the dining hall again, eating at their respective tables, so Emily was now at the Ares table, and him, Luke and Chris at Hermes’ “Is there a Greek god of disappointment? Maybe someone should ask him if he’s missing a kid”

“We’re gonna find the thing that you’re good at. I know it”

Percy heard some invisible bells chiming, and suddenly everyone from the Hermes tables was standing up, grabbing their plates.

“It’s our turn” said Luke “Burnt offerings. The gods like the smell, so it gets their attention before you say a prayer”

“They like the smell of burnt Mac and Cheese?”

“They like the smell of begging”

Luke explained to Percy that in order to get the deities’ attention, he had to burn what he would miss the most, because that way they would know that he meant what he was about to say, and they would listen.

Emily was still watching them from her own table, when she felt a light tap on her shoulder.

“Don’t turn around” a voice whispered. It was Annabeth. She was invisible using the magical Yankees hat her mother, Athena, had gifted her “What do you think of him?”

That’s how things were between Emily and Annabeth: together they shared brains and strength, and they relied on each other for everything. In cases like this, particularly, Annabeth studied from afar, contemplating the facts, while Emily ‘got her hands dirty’, studying up close.

“He isn’t sure where he fits into all of this” Emily mumbled, pretending she chewed on some bread. She wasn’t in the mood for someone questioning her for talking alone out loud “He doesn’t know if this is really his place”

“It is. He wouldn’t have been able to cross the barrier if it wasn’t”

“That’s not what I mean. He’s… insecure. And angry. At his dad, and everyone who never told him about any of this. And he’s also grieving his mom, which doesn’t make the rest any easier”

“I’ll keep an eye on him”

Emily had practice for capture the flag in the afternoon, so she didn’t see Percy anymore until dinner, where he didn’t look any better than during lunch. He disappeared early after the offerings, and she shared a look with Luke when he caught her watching their table.

The Ares cabin had two tables at the dining hall, and Emily never sat with Clarisse; they were like two different teams under the same roof. When they weren’t fighting, both sisters ignored each other, but that doesn’t mean that Emily wasn’t alert for any suspicious moves on her part, like that evening, when Clarisse and two of their siblings were also watching Percy with too much interest.

She knew that Annabeth was also keeping an eye on the boy, so she hoped that if Clarisse was pretending to do what she liked to call her “initiation ceremony” to Percy, Annabeth would be able to prevent her sister from dunking Percy’s head in a toilet before it was too late.

Emily would also try to avoid that, of course. She snuck out of her cabin, like she had done hundreds, if not thousands of times before, and she searched for Clarisse and her minions, who hadn’t even returned to their cabin after dinner even though it was pitch black outside. Percy was also nowhere in sight, and she started to become worried, making her way to the bathhouse, when a loud noise coming from said place alerted her senses.

Hiding behind a nearby tree, accompanied by the owls’ hooting and the faint sound of crickets chirping, Emily saw how her sister and two more of Ares’ children ran back outside, completely drenched in water, anger written all over their face. When they were far enough, Annabeth removed her baseball cap, standing outside of the bathhouse, and she looked around until she spotted Emily.

“How did you know I was here?” she asked her friend, making her way over to join her.

“You’re my best friend. I just did” that was fair enough.

They entered together the bathhouse, where the floor was now flooded, and some faucets were spilling even more water non-stop. A door to one of the toilets’ was completely destroyed, and the wood that was once said door floated now around in the water, in dozens of pieces. Percy stood in the middle of it all, not a single drop of water on him, looking completely clueless. He spotted the two girls at the door when he turned around, both with their arms crossed, mirroring each other perfectly.

“I can explain” he said, warily. Although, he really couldn’t.

“No you can’t”

“…okay. I can’t” he looked at Emily, who he knew, of course, and then at Annabeth. She looked familiar “Wait. I know you”

“No, you don’t”

“Yeah, I do. You were there… that night in the infirmary” Emily hid her smile, remembering how those two had had their meet cute moment “Weren’t you?”

“Yes” this time, she went with the truth “I’m Annabeth”

“Are you stalking me, Annabeth?”

“Yes”

“Okay… Wait, Emily, were you stalking me too?”

“Yes” she shrugged, smiling slightly. She had done it for Annabeth, though, and at that precise moment, because she knew her sister had been up to something, but she didn’t owe him any explanation.

“Why?”

“We were waiting to see if something like this would happen” Emily pointed at the chaos that was now the bathhouse, reassembling a pond.

“So I’d know if you could help me” followed Annabeth.

“With what?” Percy wasn’t understanding much.

“Win capture the flag”

The three of them made their way back to the cabins after that brief conversation, without giving Percy any more explanations, so that they wouldn’t get caught in the flooded bathroom and be blamed for it. Annabeth entered her cabin the first, at the side of the Goddesses cabins, while Percy and Emily made their way to the opposite array of buildings, of the male Gods.

“What did Annabeth mean with ‘Capture the flag’?”

“It’s a game. Ask Luke, he’ll explain everything” Emily only smiled at him, thinking his confused frown looked funny.

“Oh… okay” he remained silent for a few seconds “Look… I didn’t mean to attack your siblings. I’m sorry for that” Percy whispered his apology to her, so to not be heard by anyone; it was past curfew so they shouldn’t be roaming the woods at that hour “Although I’m not really sure I was the one who… actually did that. The water just… disappeared inside the pipeline, and then it shot back up hitting Clarisse and the others”

“The water protected you from them” she bit her lip, thoughtful “I’m sorry that they ambushed you”

“It’s okay… It seems like bullies tend to like me. I’m used to it”

“Well, I’m glad that this time they got what they deserved. I don’t like meanies either” she smiled at Percy, now standing in front of the entrance to her cabin “Goodnight, supreme lord of the bathroom”

Emily took a long time to get asleep that night, analysing what she had witnessed; Percy didn’t seem to fit any particular trait of any of the gods, he wasn’t skilled in any specific task, and he wasn’t as mischievous as most Hermes’ children were.

There was a possibility she didn’t dare to think of: the big three. It couldn’t even be possible… right? They had made a pact to not have any more children after the incident (which was, the second world war), because they were too powerful; that kind of demigods couldn’t be controlled. And there were many other gods, minor ones, who could have fathered Percy.

It was the facts though, like all the fuss they had made about Percy getting to camp, the trouble Grover and him had faced, his victory against the minotaur, and that strange yet very revealing experience in the bathhouse, that made Emily doubt if he could be a forbidden child.

Feeling tense and uneasy, she finally fell asleep, off to dreamland: she was laying under the stars on the grass, watching the archer, the ursa major, and other constellations she knew by heart. She wasn’t alone, though. She didn’t need to look to know who it was: his hand, big and calloused, was pointing up to the sky above them, and although he was explaining something to her, she was more concentrated in the movement of his hand and the flex of his fingers. On one of said fingers was the same ring she carried on her necklace, glistening under the moonlight.

She felt safe in that dream, and a warmth washing over her, soothing her like a balm. She wasn’t really understanding anything he was telling her, his voice muffled as if they were far away from one another, although she could feel him right by her side. Her uneasiness slightly vanished, even if it was just for a few seconds, and she felt reassured by him. When she turned to look at his face, the warmth disappeared, and she woke up.

Emily fought to not open her eyes, clinging to the dream; it was a memory of what seemed another lifetime she deeply missed. She didn’t have time to mourn the past, though: today was the day of capture the flag.

Joining her siblings for one last morning practice, Emily temporarily forgot about her doubts concerning Percy, and focused on training: the Ares cabin had teamed up with Demeter, Aphrodite, Hephaestus and Dionysus for this game, while Athena, Apollo and Hermes formed the other team. Although Emily’s team had more cabins, the two bigger cabins were the seventh (this is, Apollo), and the eleventh (Luke’s cabin, Hermes).

There were only two children of Mr. D, and Demeter’s offsprings weren’t very into combat, although they liked to fight the Apollo children for using arrows, which were made out of wood (which came from trees, and they refused to participate in any activity that encouraged the senseless slaughter of their arboreal friends!).

Aphrodite’s children weren’t bad at fighting if they wanted to, but they lacked of… the bloodlust Ares’ children had. Emily was friends with their head counselor, Silena Beauregard, as they had spent much time together at the Pegasi stables, of which Silena was in charge of. The Hephaestus demigods were built big and strong, so they were useful for combat, but their best virtue was the weapons they crafted and provided for the game.

One of their strongest weapons wasn’t made by them, though: Clarisse, leader of their team, owned an electric spear, gifted to her by Ares himself. It was her most prized possession, and she liked to show if off every chance she got, using it with her characteristic brute force.

Emily had her own weapon gifted to her by their father, an enchanted throwing knife which disguised as a bracelet, but it wasn’t as flashy or grandiose as Clarisse’s spear. She hated that spear.

Capture the flag would begin after lunch, so after grabbing a quick bite, and burning some of the food, Emily still had some little time to spare. She looked for Grover, and found him in the forest near the lake.

“I need to talk to you”

“Oh, sure, hi” he looked around them, seeming nervous. Although Emily wasn’t as aggressive as most of her siblings, she could be intense, and rather direct. She had often given Grover many jump scares “What’s up?”

“It’s about Percy” his face went serious “Annabeth and I… we are suspecting something. About his parentage”

“I don’t think I can help you with that” he said, shaking his head fast “No, I don’t…”

“You’re also suspecting something, aren’t you?” Grover’s face turned red; she had caught him. Emily smiled, walking closer to him, while Grover walked backwards, distancing himself slowly “I’m not saying you know anything, but… you know him better than we do. You guys were best friends at his school, right? Did anything happen there? Something… suspicious, that could make you think of a specific god?”

“I really can’t talk to you about this” he thought that Emily had been influenced too much by Annabeth, as she had her same ways of relentlessly asking questions, which combined with her resilience, made her implacable. And he would get in trouble if he said anything. Fortunately, the sound of a conch shell in the distance saved him “Oh, look, the game is starting. I would have loved to keep talking to you, but I really need to go now”

“You’re not even competing” she frowned.

“Yeah, sure, but this place is about to become a warzone, and no satyr wants to be around when that happens”

Fair enough, she let him go; she couldn’t be late anyways, so she ran back to her cabin, and quickly put on her armour, before going to the weaponry to grab everything she needed. Her preferred weapons were her throwing knife and a dagger she had had since she was six, which she always carried with her. For capture the flag she stuck to the standard sword and shield, although she was always tempted by the spears. She liked them, it was part of the typical Greek arsenal for battle… but the spears were also Clarisse’s thing, and she didn’t want to be compared to her sister.

Chiron had started to gather both teams at a cliff where the river split the forest in two sides, and fell down the mountain in a waterfall. Most of Emily’s team members were already there, wearing red striped armours like hers, and at the other side of the river, she saw Luke standing alongside the rest of his siblings and teammates, and also Percy; the blue eyed boy wore a blue striped armour over his orange shirt, with a blue crested helmet on his head. His weapons were a shield, and something small he was holding in his hand Emily couldn’t really make out from that far away. On Emily’s side was the red flag they had to defend, and on Percy’s and Luke’s side, the blue flag her team had to snatch to win.

The captains arrived, Clarisse and Annabeth on their respective sides, and Chiron, wearing his favourite tweed jacket and a cream coloured cape over it, greeted everyone cheerfully.

“Welcome, demigods!” he seemed delighted, and he sounded excited “A new game of capture the flag is ahead! As always, the rules are simple: the first team to retrieve the opposing flag and return it across the river shall be the victor. As always, there will be no maiming and no killing. I trust these rules will be respected” those rules had to be installed after some unfortunate events Emily had been glad to not have experienced “Any magical items you may possess, are permitted as well. Every camper who is not injured has to play. Prisoners may be disarmed, but may not be bound or gagged” those had also been things Emily was glad she hadn’t experienced “Let the games begin!”

After the conch shell blew again, the red team erupted in angry battle cries, banging their shields and various weapons in chaotic rhythms. The blue team let out a collective shout, hitting their shield in unison. Both teams had twenty minutes before the conch sounded a final time, and then it would be game on.

Emily winked at Annabeth, who winked back at her playfully before completely assuming her role as captain once more. Let the best one win.

Clarisse designated different troops for the game, and sent them scattered throughout the forest to attack the blue team and defend their flag. Emily was running off with her squadron, when she caught out of the corner of her eye how Clarisse and two of their siblings separated from their group, heading to a completely different direction.

“Emily, c’mon!”

Sighing, she followed her troop, hoping for the best.

She had her hands full soon anyways. Clarisse didn’t want Emily protecting the teams flag because of her friendship with Annabeth, so she was assigned to holding back the opposite team so that they wouldn’t actually get to the flag; Clarisse wasn’t Emily’s greatest fan, but she knew to not underestimate her. So she was quickly busy fighting Annabeth’s teammates: Emily wasn’t alone of course, as she had four of her siblings and four other demigods to help out. They won the first round, but the next battalion was commanded by Luke himself, and that would be tougher. Much more.

Luke went straight to her; he knew she would be the most difficult one to disarm, so he took it upon himself to fight her. He circled Emily, sword raised defensively, and she mirrored his movements. Luke’s first strike was easy to stop, and with practiced skill she raised her own sword, metal clashing against metal. As Luke pressed forward, Emily countered swift strikes of her own, until one of Luke’s brothers, Chris, joined him and attacked Emily from the other side. She raised her shield defensively, and Luke took his chance to hit her sword again, this time making her lose her grip.

Emily shoved Chris with force, using her shield to add strength to the hit, and when he tripped, she disarmed him as well. Luke attacked again, but Emily jumped to the side in time to avoid the hit of his sword; her own sword was laying on the ground, and she quickly retrieved it using her shield once again to block Luke’s strikes.

“Do you give up?”

“Never”

The two clashed relentlessly, swords meeting in a flurry of strikes and parries. Emily’s determination fueled her every move, strong and skilled, but Luke knew her weak spots like no one else, and so he used them against her. He sent Emily’s sword back clattering to the ground hitting her on the arm, and he dodged her dagger when she threw it at him furiously.

“You Ares kids have a temper!”

“Don’t provoke it then!”

Cornered against a tree, Emily charged against him, letting out an angry scream. Luke managed to get out of the way before she hit him, causing her to stumble forward. She recovered fast, doing a somersault, but when she faced Luke again, he had his sword raised just below her chin – He had the upper hand now.

“Are we done now?”

 “Nuhuh, but I don’t want to embarrass you in front of your friends. I know you need the validation” she let go of her shield, signalling her surrender. She would never admit a defeat out loud, though. Her genes, Ares’ genes, wouldn’t let her.

Luke helped her up, while the rest of her team also recovered. Chris told Luke something about having to move quickly to get the flag before Clarisse showed up, but Luke seemed chill about it.

“Are you so self-confident that you think she won’t manage to kick your ass if she gets her hands on you?” Emily raised her eyebrows at her friend, surprised. Luke only smirked, shaking his head no.

“I’m not that crazy, no. But we suspect that she’s got her own quest going on beside capturing the flag. I’ve spotted her going up the hill in the opposite direction around fifteen minutes ago”

“What quest are you talking about?” she didn’t need to think much to guess it herself “She’s going after Percy?”

“Annabeth’s got a plan, don’t worry. He’ll be fine”

“I hope you’re right”

When Luke and his troop left to go find the red flag, Emily decided she would also leave; they had already been defeated anyways, so she couldn’t prevent Luke from getting her team’s flag, and so she went after Clarisse. The bad feeling she’d had at the beginning of the game seemed to have been right.

Emily ran through the forest, up the hill like Luke had told her, and after some time moving in the opposite direction of where most of the action was happening, she began to hear faint sounds of metal clashing against metal, and the familiar sizzle sound of an electric spear she knew all too well.

To some extent, Emily could understand Clarisse, which was probably one of the main reasons they didn’t get along well. Both of them had been ignored by their father for years now, and not a single thing they did to make him proud seemed to catch his eye. Not a single one. They both lived at camp the whole year, and they trained nearly every single say, trying to always become stronger, faster, and greater. Their mutual competition also helped, she had to admit – they always pushed each other, and it improved their skills. They were their best opponent.

That’s why, when a twelve year old with absolute no preparation got to camp, defeating the Minotaur all by himself, Emily had also had her suspicions. He couldn’t have done it alone, right? Turns out he could, and he did. And instead of being impressed by him and wanting to get to know him more to discover the reason for his spectacular victory, like Emily did, Clarisse could only focus on the fact that some little dumb twelve year old, untrained and unclaimed, had raised more attention to himself in a few days, than she had managed to get in years of being at camp pushing herself to extreme limits to excel.

And it killed Clarisse. She fought so hard to get scraps of her father’s attention, and he never showed her any kind of affection. In her mind, she thought that it was her fault, though, and that if she worked harder for him, he would love her – Emily felt the same way; that’s what she understood so well about her sister. Clarisse’s hard work had barely granted her anything since getting to camp, and Percy was receiving all the glory she deserved and dreamed of, and that he didn’t even seem to want. It wasn’t fair.

That’s why she embraced her darker side, and sought the next best thing after glory: revenge.

Emily got to the top of the hill in time to see Percy running away from her sister and two of her siblings, who went right after him. They would corner Percy from different sides, like hunters with their prey.

She couldn’t just shout out for Percy, as it would reveal her position to her siblings, so Emily ran behind them (lamenting the fact that she had just made it up the hill, and that she now had to run all the way back down with sore legs), trying to figure out their moves: Clarisse was running down in a straight line, not really following Percy, but getting ahead of him, probably to corral him further down the mountain. Her siblings were the ones directly on his toes, and while one of them followed his same footsteps, the other calculated where he would end up passing through, and threw himself at him, sending the boy to the ground.

Percy rolled down to the shore line between bushes and trees, landing on the hard and sharp soil gravel by the lake. Emily’s siblings caught up to him, and Percy stood up quickly, almost tripping while walking backwards to put a distance between him and them, with his sword up; he didn’t go far, though, as Clarisse was waiting for him with her spear pointing at him, ready to fight.

Emily was about to intervene, when a hand on her shoulder stopped her – an invisible hand.

“Annabeth, we have to help him” Emily protested, watching Clarisse laugh at Percy before launching herself at him, almost impaling him like a human kebab “He’s got no chance against them”

“He defeated the minotaur, right?” Annabeth was still invisible, but she could feel, and hear her right beside her. She probably had been watching Percy this whole time, waiting for a fight like this to happen “And he did that thing in the bathhouse. Just… wait and see how it goes”

“Are you sure?”

“Crystal. Trust me on this”

I was hard to look at, though. Emily’s siblings wouldn’t give Percy any respite, however, he managed to grab the electric spear at one point, both him and Clarisse grabbing it now from opposite sites, and he used it to temporarily block her. He landed some good hits on the other two Ares’ demigods, but then Clarisse got Percy to let go of her weapon. Percy rolled on the ground and got his shield back, and after a few seconds where his three rivals reconsidered their options, they attacked him again.

Percy wasn’t trained, but he had a natural talent and he defended himself good, to the point where he blocked Clarisse’s strike, managing to grab the end of her spear again, this time with the same arm he held the shield. After hits, grunts and metal clashes, Percy took the others down, and with both of her siblings on the ground, Clarisse desperately tried to free her weapon from Percy’s grip rolling on the soil, making him trip and fall a few feet away. Alongside the sound of his fall, pants and groans, there was the sound of something hard and metallic breaking apart and a large amount of energy being released all at once

Emily held her breath, just as Annabeth. Percy was alright, and so was Clarisse, but her spear… the electric spear her father had gifted her, which was the only thing she had ever received from him, was now split in two, broken. Both girls held their breath while watching Clarisse assess the damage, seeing the lower half of her favourite weapon in her hands, severed from the half in Percy’s hands.

Clarisse's scream tore through the air like a raw, primal cry of anguish and fury. It echoed off the trees, resonating with the intensity of her emotions as she beheld the shattered remnants of her beloved weapon, devastation on her face.

She charged against Percy, seeing completely red, and Emily couldn’t take it anymore. She jumped forward, just in time to stop Clarisse from grabbing Percy by the straps of his breastplate, who stepped back in terror.

Before Clarisse could lunge at her sister for getting in her way, the conch shell blew, and a second after, Luke and his soldiers ran to the shore holding victoriously the red team’s flag. Annabeth had won.

“The game is over, Clarisse” Emily looked at her sister warily. She was unpredictable when she got angry and hurt, which Emily knew “Leave him”

The older girl only huffed, and walked away with her two companions, holding the remnants of her spear in both hands.

Percy fell to the ground on his knees, panting heavily. The rush of adrenaline was wearing off, and his emotions started rise up him as he caught up with what had just happened – amongst other things, he had nearly died.

“Not bad, hero”

He turned to his right, where there was… nothing. At least, until Annabeth took her Yankees cap off; she walked over to him, and he looked baffled at her.

“Were you here the whole time?” she confirmed it “You were here the whole time and you didn’t help me?” he got the same answer “Why?”

Annabeth rolled her eyes, and extended her hand out for him to grab. She helped him up, and only then did he look at Emily.

“Thanks for… saving me” he panted, still breathing heavily. His heart was beating a hundred miles per hour, and his blood rang inside his ears “She was going to kill me”

“Listen, Percy…” Annabeth got him to look at her again. She looked him in the eyes, intense gaze studying his blue iris’s, which looked back at her holding onto every word she said “I’m sorry”

Annabeth shoved him in the chest, causing him to stumble and to fall into the lake.

“Annabeth!” Emily looked at her friend in alarm, completely taken aback for what she had just done.

“What is wrong with you?!” shouted Percy, now completely soaked. His cries and Emily’s got everyone’s attention, and the celebration of the blue team’s victory was cut short when every soldier turned to them, watching what was happening.

Percy stood up inside the water, but Annabeth didn’t answer him nor Emily. She only watched him, first with interest, and then with amazement. Emily followed her gaze, and she understood what she was looking at: Percy’s injuries, cuts and blood… were disappearing. He felt how his skin healed, and he watched every scrape vanish before his eyes.

What was happening? How was he healing?

“I don’t understand” he muttered.

The answer came in the shape of a trident.

“Your dad’s calling”

A blue trident floating over Percy’s head. He had been claimed.

Emily, Annabeth, Luke and every single other living being who was there looked at the boy in wonder, in utter silence, the greatness of this once in a lifetime moment embarking their souls. They couldn’t believe what they were seeing: a son of the big three. A forbidden child of the sea god. A demigod singular amongst heroes.

“Percy Jackson” Chiron’s voice resonated through the forest, carrying an intensity that was only possessed by those who had lived thousands of years “You have been claimed by Poseidon. Earthshaker. Stormbringer. Percy Jackson… Son of the Sea God”

---

Taglist of the fic: @strawberryys-stuff @ladysybilchronicles @kyuupidwrites @nhloversblog @beansficreblogs @priyajoyy @zeeader @lightsgore

#dad!ares #daughter of ares #ares x reader #ares pjo #ares god of war #percy pjo #percy jackson fanfiction #percy series #percy jackson #annabeth chase #grover underwood #clarisse la rue #luke castellan #walker scobell #leah sava jeffries #aryan simhadri #adam copeland #dior goodjohn #charlie bushnell #camp halfblood #percy jackon and the olympians #percy tv show #percy tv series

[singingcicadas]

I find it super ironic that Cyclonus has this highly romanticized, propagandic view of the Decepticons, because like:

This is him 🔽

And this is also him 🔽

Dude you yourself was a member of the ruling elite of the old order. Even if what you said about the Decepticons were all true, you're a big part of why people needed to be emancipated in the first place.

He was part of Nova Prime's inner cadre during a time when bigotry and oppression was even more predominant. Nova. who's literally the founder of functionism, which flourished and peaked under the so-called Golden Age of his rule. And Galvatron's... Galvatron, I don't even want to talk about him everyone knows what he's like. But Cyclonus was somehow fine with being yes-man to both?

The way he spoke about the Decepticons, it sounded as if he's this super dedicated sjw filled with righteous passion about stuff like liberation and revolution and emancipation and 'the people', when in truth it's shown that he'd never cared about any of those things before that point.

Nova Prime's ideology was literally this:

And Cyclonus didn't have a problem with it during his entire life before the Ark, compared to more decent people like Dai Atlas and Omega Supreme who eventually clashed with their group and got kicked off the Ark b/c they couldn't stand Nova and co.'s lack of a bottom line and misuse of the word freedom.

As a matter of fact Cyclonus still believed in Nova Prime after he became Nemesis - not that he was much of a better person as Nova. Where's his sense of justice against corruption? Nova got turned into a literal demon, surely it's hard to get more corrupted than that. But his only complaint wasn't about what Nova/Nemesis was trying to do, it's about the process being too much of a damn ordeal.

He's super excited over the anticipation of murder and has no scruples whatsoever about killing non-combatants. The same thing happened again at Kimia.

He finally grew enough of a conscience to break off from Galvatron in the end but notice his wording. It's not 'you forced me to hurt people', it's 'you forced me to hurt Cybertron'. He even said Cybertron twice for emphasis.

It's not mind control, he just thinks like that. The guy's obsessed with Cybertron - with what Cybertron once was. The Cybertron he lived in. Nova Prime's Cybertron. The Golden Age. He's shown to repeatedly lament over it in his internal monologues.

It's all about the loss of his 'perfect world.' The infrastructure. the scenery. the Tetrahexian real estate lmao. How about let's feel some sadness for the billions of Cybertronians who once lived on it? When did he ever spare a thought for all the people who died?

The Decepticons worked so hard to destroy this. It's a gilded carcass rotting from the inside. It eats people alive. The rot was already there in his own time. He was complacent in putting it there. But he only had eyes for the beauty and nolstalgia.

In the first panel he lauded the Decepticons for wanting radical change. Well he himself seemed to be dead set against change judging by the way he kept wanting things to go back the way they were 8 million years ago.

Back in the Golden Age he would not have looked twice at a bot like Tailgate. He was part of the people who didn't give a shit about the disappearance of one waste disposal bot. He still wouldn't have given a shit if circumstances hadn't forced them together over and over again.

Looks to me he's enarmored with the grandness of the concepts of liberation and revolution and emancipation for 'the people' in the Decepticons' (theoretical) ideology. The concepts of fighting against corruption and bringing down the old order. Just like how he bought into the concepts of Nova's 'spreading freedom to the galaxy' and the glittering prosperity of the 'Golden Age.' Does he know that the Decepticon ideology is a twisted lie built on terror and massacres and genocide and despotism? Does he know that Nova's idea of spreading freedom and enlightenment is galactical conquest and his beloved Golden Age is built upon a foundation of misery and suffering and systematic subjugation? Of course he knows he's not stupid. He's nose-deep in it, it's virtually impossible not to. But he's able to willfully ignore those ugly truths as well as his role in them by only engaging in shallow romanticism through rose-coloured lens and refusing to delve deeper.

It's either that or imperalist mindset and the endorsement of violence and casual murder resonates hard.

#on one hand Cyclonus would have made the perfect decepticon #he's got the hypocrisy down really well #moral standards align too #but he wouldn't be able to stand them after a while. and they wouldn't be able to stand him #their views about the past are fundamentally different. like class different #let's not forget the fanatic religion. the decepticons hate religion. being religious is enough to get the DJD sicced on you #and taking religion to the extremes is what legitimized functionism in the first place #he's someone who's REALLY good at ignoring thing he doesn't like and brainwashing himself into thinking they don't exist #idw transformers #transformers #mtmte #maccadam #Cyclonus

[useless-catalanfacts]

New unclassified documents show Spain's espionage against Catalan independentists and how Spain's government, police and media worked together to publish fake information to attack Catalan independentists for years

For the last two months, there situation with the political espionage against Catalans, false accusations of all kinds of things against pro-independence politicians and activists, as well as right-wing demonstrations with Spanish supremacist hate speech, Spanish right-wing (though not only) politicians saying once again that Catalans are terrorist to gain votes, etc. have been escalating once again.

I had not made any post about all of that because I am simply too tired of the same thing happening over and over again and the same discussions happening all the time. This blog would be boringly repetitive if I commented on all the cases of diffamations, fear-mongering about inexistent supposed Catalan terrorists, the negotiations for a fake amnesty written so that they can keep as many people in jail as possible, and every new attack against Catalan people's right to use the Catalan language in the Catalan-speaking territories. It's the same old same old that doesn't stop happening in Spain. But I will give an update about what has been proven lately (and which had been known for a long time, but now can't be denied).

It has been known for a long time that the Spanish military intelligence service (CNI), with permission from the Spanish Supreme Court, has been using the Israeli espionage programme Pegasus to illegally spy on dozens of Catalan pro-independence journalists, activists, lawyers, politicians, and their relatives and friends for years. This goes against the human rights of the people who had their personal communications spied on and also against all the independence movement, because nobody is safe and everyone is susceptible of being spied on only for their political ideas.

Now, some of the official documents of the CNI have been declassified, so we know for sure that this espionage was happening, but other documents have not yet been declassified. Catalan politicians are asking the CNI to release the rest of these documents. The answer has been that they will not declassify them because it would "generate a risk and a grave threat for the life and integrity of the sources and collaborators of the CNI". Taking into account how in the last few years there has been many cases of infiltrated Spanish police in the Catalan social movements, including police who were infiltrated and entering long-term romantic relationships with Catalan activists (mostly Catalan women but some men too) and having sexual relations with others while lying to them about their identity, this statement can be understood to accept that there are many more people infiltrated in the movement.

But what have we seen in the documents that were released? That, as expected, the Spanish Government and Police between 2012 and 2016 used fake proof as excuses to spy on Catalans and tarnish their reputation on the press. As it has been released, the Spanish police compiled fake events with made-up proofs about Catalan independentist politicians, then they sent these fake news to the Minister of Interior of the Spanish Government, Jorge Fernández Díaz, who sent them to the Spanish media to be published as manufactured scandals on the front pages. This way, the Spanish media has spent years publishing fake information with the purpose of attacking the reputation and spreading fake ideas about Catalan independentists, including accusing many innocents of corruption, tax evasion, and personal family problems. All of these false accusations were widely talked about in Spanish media and became huge scandals, but when they were proven to be fake, the same media that published it would not include the news that these people had been declared innocents. Other ministers of the Spanish government like María Dolores de Cospedal and the president of Spain Mariano Rajoy were aware of it, and other ministries contributed to sending cherry-picked or false information to the Ministry of Interior for this scheme. All of this, of course, was paid for with public money coming from our taxes.

Nobody is surprised. This is just another day in Spain. The current Spanish Government has continued the espionage with Pegasus.

#actualitat #catalunya #catalonia #spain #european union #espionage #freedom of thought #human rights #minorities #catalan #independence #national minorities #minority rights #coses de la terra #catalan independence

[one-flower-one-sword]

His fingers curled into claws, and he aimed directly for Hua Cheng's right eye!

It all happened in under a second. Hua Cheng dodged just as fast, but the attack still left two bloody scratches on his cheek.

For the first time, Hua Cheng faced an opponent he couldn't overtake in speed. His gaze turned sharp, and he changed tactics on the spot - he called forth millions of wraith butterflies, and they swarmed the man in a frenzy. The myriad butterflies wrapped the white-clad man inside a large, shimmering silver chrysalis, but that likely wouldn't last long. Hua Cheng was about to grab Xie Lian when the silver butterflies shrieked and exploded into sparkling powder!

Seeing the subtle change to Hua Cheng's expression as so many wraith butterflies were destroyed at once, Xie Lian knew that this wasn't good. The white-clad man had blown apart the wraith butterflies, and now he was hidden within the shimmering silver powder that choked the air. His newly grown hand struck out once more, aiming again for Hua Cheng's right eye!

TGCF Volume 6, page 76

In this previous post, I've speculated about the logistics of Hua Cheng being blind on his right side and his usage of the wraith butterflies as a sort of disability aid in some instances. This above scene of his first direct clash against Bai Wuxiang is another one of those moments where the text isn't directly stating something but it's possible to extrapolate from what is described and from what is implied.

Hua Cheng is extremely skilled at direct combat at a very young age already, evidenced by the way he manages to injure several of Qi Rong's lackeys when they capture him as he's only ten years old:

"I called for five or six guys, and they still couldn't catch the brat. He trashed and bit them until they were bloodied all over."

Volume 2, page 351

And then later as a young soldier in the army:

"Although the boy was carrying nothing but a worn sword, he was still highly effective and struck down many of the binu. [...] "You've never used a saber before, right? You use a sword, but the sword is tricky. Although it's fast and extremely aggressive, its range is fairly limited. If you've never used a saber before, try it next time. I think you might be even stronger with it."

Volume 3, page 124-127

(The horrifying thing about this is of course that while Hua Cheng probably possessed natural talent, the reason why he had to learn to defend himself against adults as a mere child was that he was so severely and frequently beaten by them)

Also in my previous post, I speculated that Hua Cheng always keeping his right eye covered likely meant he learned early how to compensate for his blind spot in combat, since that obvious weakness is something his opponents would immediately notice and try to take advantage of. Until Bai Wuxiang, we never witness him fighting anyone who can actually injure him, not since he's become a Supreme Ghost King. He defeats 33 heavenly officials in a row, and even fighting two against one with Feng Xin and Mu Qing, he defeats both of them with ease.

I would argue that, aside from being extremely skilled with a saber and having immense spiritual powers, it can be extrapolated from the above quote about his fight against Bai Wuxiang that it's also Hua Cheng leveraging his superior speed against his opponents that prevents them from taking advantage of his blind spot.

(As an aside, I would assume that even when Hua Cheng is in a fake skin that has both eyes and not in his true form, he's still blind in the right one because it's, well, fake. If the text ever actually contradicts that (I've not read volume 8 yet) I will add corrections)

But now, he's facing Bai Wuxiang, who is just as if not even faster than him. Judging by the fact that Bai Wuxiang aims his attack at Hua Cheng's right eye twice, he's correctly judged his blind spot to be the most vulnerable place to go for, thereby managing to bypass his defense long enough to injure him.

Hua Cheng immediately reasses the situation, realizes he needs to create more distance between himself and his opponent, and switches to use his wraith butterflies as a sort of distract-defend-attack combo. And against everyone else, this would have worked - we see this when he uses them to drive Feng Xin and Mu Qing back after they kidnapped Xie Lian away from him:

The butterfly deluge was blocked by the formless spiritual shield and shattered into shimmering silver light, which rapidly recrystallized into new silver butterflies and attacked once more. The onslaught was completely unstoppable - Feng Xin and Mu Qing gave ground slowly as they kept their shields up, and Hua Cheng steadily advanced step by step.

Volume 6, page 63

And then again to keep Feng Xin away and occupied while he faces Mu Qing with Eming:

Meanwhile, each arrow Feng Xin shot at the butterflies was snapped by their sharp wings. The sheer number of butterflies was ultimately too difficult to deal with!

Volume 6, page 64

But Bai Wuxiang is infinitely more powerful and simply destroys all the wraith butterflies at once, which then gives him the opportunity to immediately go for Hua Cheng's blind spot a second time and aim his attack there again.

If we continue to read the wraith butterflies as not only a weapon but also a disability aid of sorts, these fight scenes demonstrate both the possible uses of them as such and also their limits. While they're feared for good reason and have multiple functions - acting as his eyes and ears like spies, defending like a shield or cutting like a blade - they can help him make up for his blind spot to a certain degree, but they can't erase it. They're an aid for his vision loss, not a replacement.

(Which is a good thing imo, just to make that clear. I feel like it's always such a wasted opportunity when characters sustain a disability and then it's either magically fixed or they continue on as if they're still able-bodied. But Hua Cheng is disabled, and the ways he's found to empower himself and to navigate a world that's pretty hostile to people like him, don't take away from that)

Like I mentioned above I haven't read Volume 8 yet, where as far as I know there'll be more fight scenes, so I might come back to this post in the future to add further observations or correct previous ones!

#tgcf #rereading tgcf #hua cheng #disabled!hua cheng #I'm also gonna screencap ep 5 of the donghua to analyze his fight scenes #because watching him fight is an absolute delight #I'm just like xie lian in that way i love hua cheng and i love sword fights lmao

[steadymongerbatscissors]

Leo Valdez And His Mistreatment

Recently I have taken some time to go back to some books and reread them for the hell of it. One of these books being the Heroes of Olympus series. Now the Heroes of Olympus series has been my favorites series overall yeah I know people think its worse than the others but I just honestly prefer the multiple point of views. Of course some characters could do with some fleshing out like Jason,Piper,Frank,and Hazel. My personal favorite of all the characters was Leo Valdez mostly because I though his fire powers were cool and he was a surprisingly deep character compared to fellow new characters.

But while reading I noticed multiple facets of his character that I felt did not need to be added or needed to be expanded on and this post I will tell you them all.

His Powers

I’m starting with his powers because that was the main thing that drew me in and in my believe sort of made Leo the person he was in the books. I mean without his fire powers he wouldn’t have accidentally killed his mother therefore never being an orphan and meeting Jason and Piper. This all say nothing about his frayed mental state.

So there pretty important but while also being important they are pretty inconsistent.

What I mean is that when Leo first uses his powers he had been purposefully not using them since he was 8 years old. This gives off the impression that has major control over his fire powers to supremes them for so long. Yet when they are on the bridge to the Wind God’s palace in the sky he suddenly loses control even though he realistically should have not done that since he had already shown he has major control over his power and wouldn’t suddenly lose control just cause he got excited.

Another problem his powers have is that they are supposedly super dangerous yet the only thing he does is throw a couple fireballs towards monsters and that’s it. Well except for when he somehow learns to nuke Gaea with his fire powers.

Wait what?

He learns to nuke somebody!

You see how his powers are super inconsistent. Like how do we go from fireballs to fire nuking a primordial goddess.

This problem seems to only exist for Leo since we get see Hazel get over her tragedy and control her powers to a far more powerful degree,Piper gets to hone her charm-speak so when she makes Gaea go to sleep it makes sense,and finally Frank multiple times throughout the series get to show off his shape shifting and how strong it is. So why does Leo never get this treatment cause we never see him actually hone his power and develop new ability’s from it.

Like your telling me the guy whose dad is the god of fire never once threw Greek fire out of his hands even though he is supposed to be the special fire guy.

His Appearance

Allow me to read you this passage describing how Leo looks.

“Leo looked like a Latino Santa’s elf, with curly black hair, pointy ears, a cheerful, babyish face, and a mischievous smile that told you right away this guy should not be trusted around matches or sharp objects. His long, nimble fingers wouldn’t stop moving—drumming on the seat, sweeping his hair behind his ears, fiddling with the buttons of his army fatigue jacket. Either the kid was naturally hyper or he was hopped up on enough sugar and caffeine to give a heart attack to a water buffalo”

To put the description simply he is described as ugly and extremely hyperactive.

I don’t understand why Rick wrote him that way because why does the outsider of the seven have to be the ugly and can’t sit still.

It’s not like any of the other characters are described as ugly unless their Frank before Mars blessing. Rick has Hazel literally think that Percy is a Greek God. Piper is the daughter of the goddess of love. Annabeth is described as a princess implying prettiness. Hell it’s not even kept to just the seven, Will Solace (the character with no personality trait aside from being a doctor and loving Nico) is described as being hot by Nico.

So like why does it seem that Leo Valdez is the only character described as ugly and hyperactive. Hell it doesn’t even make sense that Leo doesn’t have a little muscle considering he’s a mechanic and mechanics have to lift heavy shit all the time like realistically Leo would have a decent amount of muscle.

Note:Expanding on his hyper-activeness, we know that demigods ADHD helps them react to monster attack better and Annabeth describes Leo as extremely ADHD so wouldn’t that just mean that Leo would have like spider-sense and dodge extremely well.

His Character Connections

Why does everybody seem to hate Leo or at the very least try to avoid speaking with him. Like for real half way through the series Jason,and Piper completely stop hanging out with him. The only interaction they have after the Lost Hero is them going to Asclepius to make the Physician’s Cure.

Rick tried to have Hazel and Leo be friends because she knew his Grandfather or something but that is so flimsy. Frank hates Leo from the jump even though he started the beef by asking Leo if he was Sammy and getting mad every time Leo looked at Hazel. Yet there the ones he confides his whole plan to beat Gaea.

Percy is yet another person who doesn’t like Leo even though they are the basically the same person in different fonts. Annabeth seems to dislike having Leo aboard the Argo with the rest of the seven because she has no problem making fun of Leo in her mind by mocking him cause of his ADHD but then again that’s a bigger problem with Annabeth’s character than their relationship.

The only thing that seems to like having Leo around is Festus the dragon who Leo rebuilt after accidentally destroying him in their first quest.

I don’t care what you say just because Calypso insults Leo a little. It doesn’t mean that she hates him because she actually care like she really fucking cares.

So to recap Leo only has two people that genuinely like being around him and seven friends who put up with him and don’t really want him around.

Compares this to the main character of the last prophecy I.E Percy. Everybody likes Percy even people who realistically shouldn’t like him like him. Like your Reyna the girl who lost a home and was put on a pirate ship thanks to Percy had a crush on him just because he was a decent fighter. Yes right I call bullcrap.

Small Problem

Leo Valdez is a character who throughout the series has a lot of problems in his character. One problem is his treatment towards or more accurately why does Rick write Leo to be incredibly disrespectful even though he himself acknowledges how it was for his mom to get a good job just cause she is a women. One scene that I think emphasizes this problem is when the trio of the Lost Hero book meets the Hunters of Artemis. Now your expecting that since Leo himself saw how hard it was for mother just cause she was women would be extremely respectful towards the Hunters especially Jason’s sister Thalia. But nope he goes right up to Thalia and just says she’s hot to her face like come on Rick your contradicting yourself. Then in Trials of Apollo Rick has Reyna teach Leo about respecting women no like come on Leo since childhood should have know to respect women. I know you might be saying that’s just the persona he uses around people but like that doesn’t change the fact he should have already knew not to do that thanks to his mother.

Conclusion

In conclusion Leo Valdez is a character who could have been treated far better by the story,author,and the people inside the story. He is a wonderful character who in universe only has two people that genuinely want him around and deserved to have his powers explored more than just fireball. But sadly he is riddled with holes that shouldn’t be there if you actually look at his character.

#leo valdez #jason grace #piper mclean #reyna avila ramirez arellano #percy jackson #annabeth chase #frank zhang #hazel levesque #thalia grace #heroes of olympus #percy jackon and the olympians #rick riordan #long post #like fr Leo should have had insane fire power to really drive home how dangerous he is #like bro could actually murder somebody #caleo #pro caleo #calypso #trials of apollo #reyna ramirez arellano