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httpiastri · 4 months

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this christmas – op81

ski slopes, mistletoes, and the guy you've been crushing on for years – what could be better?

genre: fluff, mutual pining, friends to lovers!au, smut (just one scene in the end, you can skip it if you want)

pairing: female leclerc!reader x oscar piastri

other characters: lando norris, charles leclerc, george russell & mundt, alex albon & lily muni he, pierre gasly & kika cerqueira gomes

warnings: mentions of alcohol, smut, not much more i think

word count: 13.8k (LMAO)

requested?: yes!!

author’s note: hello hello!! a lot to say about this one. first of all, thank you to @be-your-coffee-pot for this request, and i apologize for not getting to it earlier than now. for everyone’s knowledge, the request was sent in to me in august, so… yeah. i know it’s not exactly what you asked for, but i hope you like it anyway <3

second of all, i feel pretty happy about some of these scenes, but some… not so much. some of the fillers have parts that i really despite, but i don’t really have time to rewrite since christmas is like 2 days away lol. also, my description of the reader’s relationship to charles is not my best work, idk why he barely even appears, and i’m also not sure why logan isn’t in this...

third of all, my red divider things make my posts disappear from the tags, so i didn’t put any in this time. it looks bad, i know, but idk how to fix it. if anyone does, please let me know. :)

and lastly: i only proofread this whole thing once yesterday, but tumblr was being a bitch and i got so frustrated that i do not have the energy to proofread it again. so please, if you happen to find any spelling or grammar mistakes, i would be very thankful if you let me know. <3

hope you all enjoy !!

december 12th, 2:11pm

oscar has always loved winter.

it started in his childhood; the holiday films he'd seen as a child, the way it always seemed to magically snow right on christmas eve really started something in him. it hadn't been common for him to get snow back home in australia when he was younger but once he moved to the england, he got to experience it quite a lot. playing, fighting and just existing in the snow was like an unfilled childhood need that stayed with him until his older years.

he loved spending christmas at home with his family, but ever since he got to experience real christmases with snow, trees and cozy darkness, he craved it more than he craved lying on the beach in his swimming trunks.

so when he was asked to come along to the swiss alps for a vacation during the winter break, he packed his bags right away. he and lando just happened to book the same flight, and they both arrived at the airport around noon, getting into a cab to take them to the accommodation together.

when they arrive outside the cottage, oscar is in shock; it is enormous. he had imagined just a tiny, cute little house – not that he was sure how seven drivers and a couple of girlfriends would fit in a "tiny" house – but he was far from right.

him and lando are the second pair to arrive, just about an hour after alex and lily, who are the self-proclaimed 'hosts' as they took care of all of the booking and planning.

"we thought that one would be lando's room," alex starts, pointing down the hallway. "since it's far away from everyone else, and i'm sure we all would prefer to actually get some sleep during the night time."

"oh, shut it..." lando mumbles, shoving his friend on his shoulder.

"this one can be yours, oscar," lily says, moving in the opposite direction and gesturing to another room. then, she points at the one right next to it. "and this one has two beds, so it's for charles and his sister."

oscar's ears perk up. "y/n is going to be here?" he speaks almost took quickly, making the other three turn to look at him.

"oh, i thought you knew..." lily has an apologetic look on her face.

"i must've forgotten," oscar answers, though he's completely sure no one told him about it. there's no way he would forget you. "don't worry, it's cool."

the hosts continue to move down the hallway, and the mclaren boys are just about to follow along when lando elbows oscar's side playfully. "it's cool?"

oscar raises an eyebrow, trying to keep calm. "what?"

"the youngest leclerc coming along?" a grin takes up lando's entire face. "it's just cool? is she cool, or-"

"goodbye, lando." oscar shakes his head, darting towards alex and lily again. he takes a few deep breaths, hoping the blush he can feel spreading across his cheeks isn't too obvious.

unfortunately, lando didn't need to see the blush to know. he has caught his teammate staring at you too many times over the season, and he is fully aware of the way oscar always is suddenly interested in the conversation whenever you're the topic of discussion.

lando knows everything. and this christmas, he's going to be the best wingman the world has ever seen.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 13th, 12:53am

it's past midnight when you and charles arrive. your flight had been delayed, and then the gps had stopped working all of a sudden. and then, charles just refused to drive any faster than 30 km/h, saying it was too dangerous. as if he didn't drive cars in ten times that speed without even flinching.

you assume the whole house is sleeping already, so you and charles both sneak in as quietly as you can. someone – lily, assumably – has left you a note on the front door, guiding you to your shared room. it all goes smoothly – until charles trips over the doorframe, dropping his bag onto the floor as he tries not to fall down. the sound rattles through the hallway and you flinch, stopping in your tracks as you hope no one's woken up. but just a second later, the door opposite yours opens and a head sticks out.

oscar.

your heart softens and your shoulders relax when your gaze meets his. your soft smile is mirrored on his face, the sleepiness evident in his droopy eyes and the way strands of his bedhead point in every direction.

he looks like he's just about to say something when charles speaks up. "sorry, man! were you asleep?"

he walks up to the australian, giving him a firm handshake and a pat on the back. oscar shakes his head. "i was up reading," his huskey accent is like music to your ears. "i thought i heard some rustling out here, and then..." he nods his head toward the suitcase on the floor.

your brother laughs as he steps back, walking into the room with the "leclerc" sign. "well, i'll let you get back to that then," he says, picking up the bag from the floor and looking back one last time. "good night."

and then, you were just two.

you and oscar stand still for a moment, just watching each other. then, he opens up his arms, welcoming you into his embrace. you step forward and drape your arms around his shoulders as his wrap around your waist, and you let out a content sigh. he's warm, comfortable, and the way he squeezes your body has your mind spinning.

"it's been a while," he says when you part from the hug, a soft grin playing on his lips.

"like a month," you chuckle, crossing your arms over your chest.

"a month has never felt this long before."

you're not sure when your crush on him started forming.

as someone who's always been interested in racing, even in the series your brother isn't in, you've kept up with most results and championships – including oscar's seasons in f2 and f3. after seeing oscar, the unstoppable rookie who completely crushed his season in f3, you made sure to keep an eye at him in f2 the following year. and it's easy to say that you liked what you saw. especially in jeddah.

you'd meet him occasionally around the paddock the following year, just giving him a sweet smile and a quick greeting as if it was no big deal. but you always found yourself squealing on the inside and taking deep breaths to stay calm whenever you made eye contact with him.

then came 2023 and his debut in f1. yet again, he exceeded everyone's expectations, performing better than most drivers who'd been on the grid for years. with his permanent role on the grid, he was around more – and so were you. it wasn't uncommon for the two of you to bump into each other, around the paddock or during media days or in afterparties, and now you tried not to shy away.

talking to oscar was always simple. he was easygoing, it all seemed effortless, and you felt more relaxed. before you knew it, you could chat about racing strategies and tyre management for twenty minutes before a member of the mclaren staff interrupted you, rushing oscar away somewhere. you got to know each other slowly throughout the season, though never really going further than some friendly conversations, but you felt happy knowing that you'd taken the first step towards getting closer to him.

"so..." he starts. "you've been good?"

you nod. "yeah, a lot of studying but it's been alright. you?"

"yeah."

and there it is again, that slightly awkward silence. it's natural, you haven't seen each other since that night in abu dhabi and you're both a little unsure of where you stand after it. the tension is so thick that you could cut through it with a knife, and you kind of want to escape the whole situation. but then he speaks up.

"hey, i just wanted to-"

he's interrupted by the call of your name, and when you turn around, charles is leaning against the doorframe, eyes hazy. "are you going to sleep tonight or what?" he asks, dragging a hand through his already messy hair.

you feel a weight lift off your shoulders – and at the same time, your stomach tightens in disappointment. you nod at your brother, looking back at oscar to give him a wave and a "sleep well", before joining charles in your shared room.

oscar stands still in the corridor for a moment, before sighing and slapping himself in his mind for being so awkward and messing up this opportunity. but on the other side of the door, you stand still too as you watch your brother jump onto his bed, taking a deep breath to clear your mind.

you're just thankful the room is so dark that he can't see your ever-reddening cheeks.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 13th, 10:24am

despite the never-ending pitter-patter of your heart as you went to bed last night, you could fall asleep quite quickly, seeing as you were utterly exhausted from traveling. breakfast this morning feels like you and charles have just been reunited with your childhood friends after being kidnapped for years; not like you had just gone a few weeks without seeing each other. everyone runs around hugging, chatting about how much they've missed each other and how great this trip will be.

"did you get new highlights?" kika asks you, sliding into the seat next to you by the long table as you stuff a piece of bread into your mouth. the room is a combination of a kitchen and a dining hall, with a big cooking area and a glass wall giving the dining area a beautiful view of the mountains outside. in the middle stands a long table with enough seats for all of you, filled with fresh pastries and other breakfast goods to celebrate the first day of the trip. "or is it just the light?"

"just the light," you answer, shooting her a smile as you pick up your cup of coffee.

"oh my god, i almost forgot to ask you," lily starts and places her elbows on the table, her face resting in her hands. "what happened to that guy from raya you were talking to? did you end up going out?"

oscar is sitting a few seats down the table, pretending to be immersed in a conversation with some of the other drivers about the last few races of the season, while actually just doing his best to listen in on the conversation you're having. when he hears alex's girlfriend mention raya, his ears perk up and his breath gets caught in his throat. a million thoughts instantly crash into his mind.

she's seeing someone? how could i not know this? she's on raya? is she actively looking for a partner? who is this guy they're talking about?

he coughs and tries to act normal, shaking off the uncomfortable feeling passing through his body. he soon hears the sweet sound of your wholehearted laughter, and he almost smiles instinctively at it, before he can remind himself that lando's story about las vegas isn't exactly a smiley matter. "you're not going to believe this, i have the best story," you say in-between fits of giggles. "i met up with him for some drinks, and guess what he said? that he has a foot fetish and has dreamed about me caressing his face with my feet." all of the girls squeal and explode with laughter, making some of the boys flinch and look over to see what all the commotion is about. "so, safe to say, we never met up again. and i haven't wanted to go out with anyone else from there, either. i have a feeling they're all just creeps."

"hey, don't lose hope!" kika says while elbowing your side, but her actions are too soft, forcing you to fold over as an uncomfortable feeling spreads through your body. however, a burst of laughter spills past your lips. kika immediately holds her arm back, laughing along. "crap, i'm sorry! i totally forgot how ticklish you are."

you shake your head, your hand landing on her shoulder. "no worries," you tell her. "but, i haven't lost hope. i just don't think my soulmate is lurking around on raya with the foot fetishists."

oscar feels his shoulders relax again, feeling alright with focusing back on the boys' conversation now that he knows you in fact aren't seeing anyone.

maybe he has a shot, after all. as long as he doesn't talk too much about your feet.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 14th, 3:09pm

lando thinks he's so smart.

when he tells oscar to go ask if you'd like to have some of the gingerbread cookies he's bought, it's the third time today he has forced some kind of interaction between the two of you. he is sure that the more time that the two of you spend with each other, the more likely you will be to stop pining and just confess already.

but this time, oscar glares at the brit. "why don't you ask her yourself?"

"because you know what room she's in," lando hums back, reaching into the cupboard with some groceries. "i keep getting lost, the house is too big. plus, i'm busy." he motions to the half-empty grocery bag on the counter.

oscar lets out a sigh, but nods. "how can you memorize all tracks on the calendar, but you get lost in a cabin?" he asks rhetorically, whilst turning around and making his way down the hallway towards your room.

it's not that oscar doesn't enjoy 'accidentally' being forced into talking to you; it's the extreme lack of discretion lando is showing that makes him annoyed. it makes oscar seem like he's the one coming up with silly excuses to talk to you, and he doesn't like how it makes him look. he'd rather be seen as chill, laidback, someone who doesn't force things. he doesn't want you to catch on too early and reject him.

your voice echoes a 'come in' when he knocks on the door to your bedroom, and he pushes the door open just a little to reveal you sitting on the bed, a thick blanket wrapped over your shoulders. a grin spreads across your lips when you make eye contact with him. "hi," you say, placing the book you were reading on the bedside table.

"hey," he answers, stepping inside the room. "i... lando bought some gingerbread cookies, and we were going to make some hot chocolate, and..." his voice trails off as his eyes wander down your body, taking in the christmas sweater you're wearing and the fuzzy socks covering your feet. he smiles absentmindedly at the sight, loving how cozy you seem, and wishing he was sitting right there with you, sharing the blanket.

you nod, understanding him despite his lack of words. "i'll be right there."

oscar gives you a thumbs up – one he then facepalms himself for when he's left your room – before moving towards the kitchen again. but when he walks into it, he sees something hanging from a lamp. he stops in his tracks. "no way..."

festive cookies aren't the only thing lando bought when he went to the local supermarket. he also got the ultimate tool for securing his master plan – a mistletoe.

he doesn't know how, but he's planning to make sure you and oscar meet underneath it at least once before the holidays are over. there's no way you'll both be able to avoid it all week.

of course, lando isn't the only one rooting for the two of you. most of the other drivers know too – how can they not notice the glances you share and the way you light up when someone mentions the other in a conversation? – and most of them are in on his plans. charles is probably the only one in the house who's still oblivious to your and oscar's pining, and lando thinks that he might interfere with the matchmaking if he figures something out, so the brit keeps quiet.

oscar wants to pull the mistletoe down, rip it apart and throw it in the trash, but he refrains. something inside him tells him this might actually work out in his favor – and he decides to trust his gut this time.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 15th, 2:01am

sleeping can be tricky, especially when your brother is snoring loudly in a bed just a few meters away from you.

who even decided to put him and you in the same room?

when you've been tossing and turning to no avail for about an hour, you decide it's time to do something, anything, to hopefully get a little tired again. a glass of warm milk never hurt anyone, did it?

you make your way to the kitchen, pour yourself a glass of milk and put it in the microwave, before turning to look through the windows.

the view of the mountains is breathtaking. there is an untouched, thick layer of snow covering the area, with new flakes still falling. the sun set long ago, but the snow makes it all seem light. the lake below you is just barely visible by now, almost completely coated in snow.

it's completely serene, and you find yourself getting lost in the scenery. however, you're shaken out of your trance when you hear steps behind you. when you turn around, your eyes find someone standing just a few meters away, barely visible in the dark.

you jump in your place and clutch your chest in shock, not expecting anyone else to be up at this hour. when the person steps into the light of the little kitchen lap you had turned on, you relax instantly. "holy shit, oscar," you breathe. "you nearly scared me to death."

"i'm sorry," the australian chuckles. "i didn't know how to approach you without scaring you..."

"what even are you doing up?" you question, crossing your arms over your chest as you lean back against the counter.

"i was just reading in my bed when i heard your door opening, and then footsteps, so..." he trails off when his eyes wander out towards the living room, seemingly just as taken by the sight as you were just moments ago. "i wanted to make sure everything was okay."

"well, everything is okay, so..."

there's some kind of awkwardness hanging in the air. it's not only because of the obvious uncertainty of what to say or do in this situation; it has more to do with the fact that this isn't the first time that the two of you have found yourselves this close with this much tension, all alone at night. sure, it's a lot like the night of your arrival here, but another memory springs to your mind, too.

just under a month ago, following the after-party in abu dhabi, oscar had accompanied you back to the hotel when you started getting too tipsy to keep yourself up on the dance floor. your brother had been nowhere in sight, so oscar took it upon himself to help you out, draping an arm across your waist before walking you all the way to your hotel room. and when you'd arrived in the dimly lit corridor, you'd turned up towards him to thank him, accidentally brushing your nose against his as you did. both of you had broken out in giggles, neither especially sober, but you stayed close – and when the laughter settled, you just watched each other. when his gaze had flickered between your eyes and lips, your breath hitched in your throat, the anticipation growing stronger. you had leaned in even closer, your eyes fluttering closed-

but just as your lips were about to brush his, you had been interrupted. a door a few meters away had opened and the two of you jumped apart, watching as your brother stepped out and exclaimed that he had been wondering where you ended up. oscar had wished you both a good night before hurrying off, the embarrassment of almost getting caught by his friend being too much for him to handle.

you just hoped oscar had been too drunk to remember it, because otherwise, things were bound to get quite awkward. you didn't want him to act differently around you just because you have feelings for him.

thankfully, he hasn't said or done anything to make you think he does remember it.

as you're thinking back to that night in abu dhabi, you nearly get your second heart attack when the microwave goes off with a loud beep. you scramble to turn it off and take out your milk, almost burning yourself on the hot glass in the meantime.

oscar watches you with an amused grin before he forces his gaze off you, eyes wandering over to the windows again. "quite the view, huh?"

you look over your shoulder at the blanketed mountains. "yeah, it's breathtaking," you reply, before growing quiet.

he pauses for a moment, too. "there's something magical about this place. makes everything seem simpler, quieter..."

you nod. "yeah, it does."

something about the moment makes you realize that maybe, just maybe, the awkwardness between you and oscar isn't as insurmountable as you once thought it would be. the shared quietude is comfortable, and you feel at ease. he hasn't brought up abu dhabi – he probably won't, you feel – and maybe you could both just put it behind you and focus on enjoying your trip.

when you eventually get back in your bed, it's with the same kind of pitter-patter of your heart as when you and charles arrived in the cabin a few days ago. needless to say, the glass of warm milk probably isn't going to help.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 16th, 9:02pm

the mistletoe has moved.

when you first noticed it the other day, it was hanging from a kitchen lamp. and now, it's in the doorframe leading into the living room.

you're planning on avoiding it at all costs, not wanting to slip up and accidentally get under it with the wrong person. or the right one, for that matter. the awkwardness of kissing your crush in front of friends and family would be too much to handle.

some others seem to have the exact opposite attitude towards the decoration, though. kika and pierre can be found by it about ten times per day, and alex and lily have no issues sharing a few kisses whenever they "accidentally" pass it.

no matter what, lando has a mischievous grin whenever anyone mentions it, or even walks near it.

his grin stays on when he decides to let himself be in charge of the outing you all have to the christmas tree farm nearby. the farm is too big and would take too long if everyone was going to look at every tree, so lando divides everyone into groups of two based on who they're standing next to as you walk past the gates.

what a coincidence that you're standing right next to oscar when he says this.

lando ushers the two of you off to the rows with quite tall, pre-decorated trees. "so," oscar starts as you both stop in front of a tree with white lights and ornaments hung all over it. "what do you think about this one?"

"well, it's lovely," you say, scanning it thoroughly. "but isn't the true test how well it fits into the living room?"

he nods, despite his confusion, and he shoots a curious glance your way. "and how do we determine that?"

with a playful grin, you hold up an imaginary measuring tape, pretending to size up the tree with a critical eye. "i'm trying to figure out if it fits this corner best, or..."

he follows your gaze, realizing the tease in your words. "i think maybe it's better in the other corner," he hums and points to the side as you turn a little.

"exactly."

lando never inserted himself into a group; he's too focused on watching the two of you share a lighthearted laugh at the situation. though his mistletoe back in the cabin might still have a trick or two up its metaphorical sleeve, he is already proud of his matchmaking antics.

and, he is sure you'll both crack. it is just a matter of time.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 17th, 1:43pm

"i never thought skiing would be this hard," you groan as you step into a cottage, the warmth enveloping you and beginning to defrost you instantly.

oscar laughs at the exasperated tone in your voice. "this was just the kids' slope, you do remember that, right?" you stick your tongue out at him, slumping down on a bench by a table. "you just wait before you do some real skiing..."

you had never skied before today. oscar had, but he said it was too long ago and that he needed an easy start. plus, he couldn't just leave you all alone in the children's slope without an instructor.

you'd fallen over at least five times, despite the fact that the slope was practically flat. thankfully, oscar promised to buy you some hot chocolate in a cottage café to cheer you up.

when he comes back from the cashier carrying two big, steaming cups of chocolate, you've regained most of the feeling in your fingers again. the hot piece of ceramic almost burns your skin, but you think it's worth it; you need the sugar and you need it now.

"you know what the worst thing is?" you ask, bringing the cup up to your face with both hands. you start sipping on the drink and oscar glances at you with a questioning look as he slips down next to you on the bench. "carrying those goddamn skis with me. not only does it suck to actually ski, but dragging them all the way from the rental shop…"

"if it's that much of a bother, i can carry them for you."

"and carry your own too?" you scoff, watching him flinch as he burns his tongue on the drink. "you're not that strong."

he lets out a groan. "you're not even strong enough to carry your own, so you shouldn't say anything."

"i can carry them!" you protest, shooting him a glare. "i just don't want to. two very different things."

you both go silent momentarily, too busy focusing on how good it feels to no longer be frozen to the marrow. the cabin is filled with people; kids running in circles around the tables, soon to be tired again after the initial sugar shock from their afternoon snack; a group of older ladies gossiping and enjoying getting some rest just like you; and some young adults in the far corner are already busy dancing on the tables with their after-ski drinks in their hands.

"you know what? i changed my mind," you tell him, scooting away from him a little and placing your skiing boot on the bench. "these things. they're the worst."

you start to unclasp the boot, sighing in relief as you finally tug the shoe off your foot, throwing it onto the floor. you've only worn it for about an hour, but you can already feel the bruises beginning to form. you're just about to reach down to undo the other boot, too, when oscar reaches towards your foot.

your eyebrows shoot up as he takes it in his hands, pulling the foot into his lap. and then, his fingers begin to wander up and down your foot and ankle, giving you soft squeezes and pressing down on the spaces where he thinks the boot has squeezed you the most. you hold back a pleasured sound, seeing as it would sound way too inappropriate right now, but oscar subconsciously takes note of how you're getting flushed because he soon looks up at your face.

"is this okay?"

you swallow down the lump in your throat, nodding quickly. "y-yeah… just don't tickle me..."

when did things get so intimate? mere minutes ago, you couldn't think about anything other than how you were so cold your nose was going to fall off. but now, you can't stop your eyes from following his long, sleek fingers, thinking about how good they feel and imagining how good they would feel somewhere else-

"give me your other foot."

you're thankful that he interrupts your train of thought before your mind wanders too far.

compose yourself, woman.

"don't tell me you have a foot fetish, too," you tease, turning around so that you can place your other foot on the bench too. he lets out a hearty laugh, swiftly undoing your other boot before letting it drop to the ground.

"oh, shut it. do you want a massage or not?"

you shoot him pout, giving his shoulder a thankful pat before taking your cup in your hands again. you focus on the drink, watching how the steam rises and the marshmallows melt. you can't look over at him anymore, scared of your cheeks growing too red and your face giving away your feelings.

the bell by the door rings behind you, and you look towards it out of habit. and in comes alex, george, lily and carmen, laughing and chatting loudly about the black slope they just went down. oscar doesn't seem to notice, but you hastily pull your feet from his lap, sitting down properly – unfortunately making eye contact with alex as you do. he leans forward to lily, whispering something in her ear, and you watch as her eyes dart to you and a smirk grows on her lips.

shit.

the clicking of her boots against the stone floor meets your ears and oscar turns his head at the sound, suddenly realizing why you withdrew from him. "hey there," lily cheers, each of her hands landing your and oscar's shoulders. "what have you been up to?"

your eyes meet his briefly, before looking back up at lily. "just... drinking some chocolate..."

"oh, no skiing?"

"she crashed too much, i couldn't keep her out there and let her continue to embarrass me all day," oscar tells her and you shove his shoulder.

"do you mind if we join you guys?" george asks, coming around the table and not even giving you a second to think about it before he sets two cups of chocolate down on the table. the grin he's wearing only tells you one thing: alex told him already. carmen's lips show off a matching set.

"not at all..."

‎‎ ‎‎

december 18th, 10:32am

you huff as you slump down on the living room couch, your mood not even getting brought up by watching the newly installed christmas tree in front of you. you hadn't even been out skiing that much yesterday, yet every single inch of your body aches. not only do you have big, blue bruises on both of your hips due to the many times you've fallen onto the hardly packed snow, but every muscle screams with pain as you drape a blanket over your body. needless to say, you decided to stay at home today instead of heading out with the others for another round.

"are you sure you don't wanna come along?" kika asks as she enters the room, her pretty pink sunglasses perched at the top of her nose. the pout on her lips almost makes you doubt staying in, but when you move to sit up more straight again, you know you've made the right decision.

you nod, giving her a weak smile. "yeah, sorry."

"but oscar promised to come along?"

you freeze, your cheeks growing red as you hear her words.

did she know? about your feelings for him? did the others already tell her about the incident in the cottage yesterday? did they really interpret the situation that way?

"w-what?"

"oh," she chuckles at your reaction. "i just meant that he was so bad yesterday, so i thought that seeing him fall over a couple of times would be worth the pain."

"we're gonna trick him into going down a black slope with us," says pierre who walks into the room, arms lacing around his girlfriend from behind. "we'll send some clips."

you let out a breath of relief as they leave the room. maybe they don't know. maybe your secret will stay secret for a little longer.

the group leaves in pairs or trios and you tell them all goodbye from your place underneath the many blankets. everyone has left by now except for oscar, which confounds you since the others seemed to have so many plans for him. your confusion only grows when he steps into the living room without any skiing gear on, just wearing an oversized, cozy hoodie and a pair of sweats.

"why aren't you out with the others?" you question, your eyebrows raised at him.

"well," he sighs, flopping down next to you on the couch. "i can't find my helmet." when you shoot him a doubting look, he raises his hands defensively. "what?"

"i don't believe it."

"you don't have to, but it's the truth."

"how do you even lose a helmet? it's so big?" you scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. "i assumed you were used to keeping track of where your helmet is since if you don't have your helmet with you for races, then you can't race."

"i swear i put it on the drawer by the front door like half an hour ago. i don't understand what could've happened."

you have to give it to him; he is really doing his best to cover this up. you find it pretty obvious that he just doesn't want to ski because of what the others were planning to do to him. but maybe if kika and pierre hadn't spilled their plans already, you would've believed him.

"but hey," he says, bringing you out of your thoughts. "don't feel obligated to include me in whatever you were going to do here now that you finally have the house to yourself." he pushes himself off the couch, standing up and shooting you one last smile before turning to walk away. "i'll let you have some peace."

he takes a couple of steps towards the bedrooms, but then you get the idea. "oscar." he stops in his tracks, throwing a glance back at you. "i was planning on doing some baking, and…" you shuffle slightly in your seat. "it wouldn't hurt to have an extra helping hand."

"i'm a horrible baker, though."

"and i'm the best baker ever, so i guess we cancel each other out." you stand up from your seat, keeping the blanket wrapped around your shoulders as you make your way toward the kitchen. "let's go make some mediocre cookies!"

oscar shakes his head, grinning to himself as he follows behind you. this was definitely not what he had planned, but he sure is liking the way it's going.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 18th, 8:14pm

oscar had not been kidding when he said he sucked at baking.

he put in twice the needed amount of flour, and only half of the sugar. and as if that wasn't enough, of course the mistletoe had moved to the kitchen, making the whole situation quite uncomfortable as you both had to take strange routes while navigating through the kitchen to avoid it. not even your baking skills could save the cookies.

as an apology, oscar promised to buy some fancy gingerbread cookies tonight at the christmas market you'd all planned to go to in a nearby city. he was strongly set on going through with his promise, despite how many times you told him that it was alright and that they wouldn't taste as good as homemade ones anyway.

you've all been at the market for almost two hours now, but it feels like you've only gone about ten meters. your friends, mainly lando, george and alex, are stopping at every single shop and stand, making sure to check out all products and buying at least one thing in every store, no matter how long the line to the cash register is.

"lando-" you groan at the sight of the brit running into yet another store; this time, a shop filled with christmassy outfits for dogs. "he doesn't even have a pet…"

kika is grinning next to you, shaking her head. "he told me earlier today that he wanted to buy a present for roscoe if he got the chance," she says as most of the group joins lando. "makes more sense than when he bought that screwdriver thirty minutes ago just because it was green."

"the power of 'christmas colors', apparently," you hear oscar's voice from behind you, and you turn back to meet his eyes.

"well, i'm not surprised. just disappointed. and cold, and tired of standing still."

oscar points his head to the side, up the street. "i think i saw a stand a little further up that sells cookies, maybe they have some gingerbread ones."

you nod, a small smile entering your lips. "let's go check it out, then. kika, do you wanna come-"

you're cut off by the sound of pierre calling for his girlfriend, holding up a reindeer costume and blabbering on about how it would be perfect for her cousin's dog. "sorry guys," kika says before strutting off to her boyfriend.

you both shrug before walking down the street towards the stand oscar had spotted. the sugary scent of cookies meets your nose from far away, and your mouth waters at the mere thought of the sweets. when you arrive, a sweet old lady sitting behind the stand greets you and tells you all about the different cookies she's baked. gingerbread, sugar cookies with little candy canes, snowball cookies, and various traditional swiss cookies.

"would you like to have a taste, dears?" the lady asks, pointing her hand to a plate with samples. you and oscar take a gingerbread cookie each, popping it into your mouths.

"oh yeah, this is lovely," he says, looking like he's savoring every crumb.

"much better than ours," you answer, nudging his shoulder with yours. he gasps and places a hand on his chest, feigning offense.

you turn your attention back to the lady and telling her you'd love to buy a little box of cookies from her. oscar pays for them and she wraps the box in some pretty gift paper, handing it to you before you continue making your way down the street. the house walls and all trees are wrapped in christmas lights, some blinking in random colors and some with a soft glow of an elegant white. the streets are filled with people wearing santa hats, ugly christmas sweaters, and scarves so big half of their faces are covered. there's not a single frown in sight, the happiness and love so obvious you can almost see little hearts flowing above everyone's heads.

you glance into a couple of different stores as you stroll, stopping occasionally to check something out. when you reach a stand with different kinds of jewelry, something catches your eye: a golden necklace with a heart-shaped charm hanging from it. you carefully pick it up, your heart fluttering in your chest as you inspect it.

and when you look up at oscar from the necklace in your hands, he feels like the air is stolen from his lungs. your eyes are twinkling with happiness, outshining all lights in the entire christmas market. the excited smile on your lips is contagious, and suddenly, it's like the world around you has stopped and everyone else has disappeared. you're both just grinning at each other like two lovestruck fools, nothing in either of your minds other than the person in front of you. the sight of your rosy cheeks from the cold makes the butterflies in his stomach multiply by the second.

wow, he really is totally and fully whipped.

"really pretty," he finally gets out, unsure if he's talking about the necklace or the woman standing before him.

"pretty? it's gorgeous," you answer, eyes flickering back to the jewelry in your hand. "i adore it. how much is it?"

just as the guy in the booth is about to answer, you feel someone grab your free hand. "come on guys, they're closing down soon and we still have a bunch of shops to visit!" kika is pulling you along so fast you barely have time to put the necklace down.

lily notices the disappointment on your face and pats your shoulder. "we'll come back here sometime before christmas, don't worry."

lando shows you the christmas tree costume he bought as you wander down the market again, but oscar suddenly stops. "guys, i forgot my phone back at the cookie stand. keep walking, i'll catch up with you," he says, pointing behind him with his thumb and disappearing before anyone can say anything.

it's a good excuse, but you clearly see the outline of his phone in his back pocket as he hurries down the street.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 19th, 9:22pm

the days roll on with a gentle rhythm of shared glances and fleeting touches between you and oscar. unbeknownst to both of you, lando, ever the persistent wingman, continues his behind-the-scenes matchmaking efforts.

in some magical way, lando manages to get you and oscar paired up for pretty much anything. board game night? you and oscar just happen to get the exact role cards that make you teammates. time for some ornament decorating? you and oscar are the only ones who don't get a seat on the couch, having to sit on the floor together and share all your materials.

funnily enough, it never gets awkward between the two of you. even when you are left all alone, there is always something to talk about, some dumb thing lando has done that you can tease him about behind his back, or something you are curious about when it comes to his racing career so far. somehow, being with oscar started feeling comfortable, natural, unforced.

one specific night, alex comes up with the idea of playing card games, to which only a few of you are actually interested. some plan on going to bed early so they can hit the slopes first thing in the morning, while others just aren't in the mood. oscar said he would just finish wrapping some christmas presents and join you all later, and you catch yourself feeling disappointed that he's not on the couch next to you, helping you win (or taunting you to make you lose). it surprises you how much you're drawn to him, how it feels like something is missing when he isn't around, when you didn't feel this way just a few days ago.

you try to shake the feeling off, but it's still lingering even as you start playing with your friends. eventually, you excuse yourself to get a glass of water from the kitchen to take your mind off things. but-

just as you round the corner going into the kitchen, your head crashes into something hard. you shriek as you stumble, hands coming up to grab the person in front of you as you lose your balance, but a pair of hands wrap around your back, holding you up. when you look up, you're met with oscar's big brown eyes blinking down at you. "you okay there?"

you let out a relieved breath, nodding at him. "yeah, thanks to you. what were you doing coming around the corner that fast, though?"

he chuckles. "what were you doing not looking where you're going?"

"touché."

your hands are still holding on to the front of his hoodie, and you're about to let go of him and walk away when you notice something in the upper periphery of your vision. something is hanging above you. but, it can't be-

of course it is.

the mistletoe.

oscar looks up just as you do, jaw dropping slightly. "oh..."

"indeed..."

you both keep your vision pointed up, as if the mistletoe would disappear if you just keep on staring at it. oscar's hands slowly begin to slide off your back, and he's hoping you'll both just pretend like none of this ever happened. it would be the least awkward thing to do.

"maybe-" his breath hitches in his throat when you speak up. his gaze is on you again, but you're still looking at the plant. "maybe we should do it. just... for the christmas spirit, you know. i love christmas."

you don't even know what you're blabbering on about. you're trying to improvise a reason to kiss your brother's colleague that makes at least a little sense, but you're completely lost. you realize how dumb you sound, and you expect to see him staring at you like you actually are insane when you look back at him.

but what you don't know is that he thinks it's the best idea ever. he is just as into it as you are, if not more. he doesn't look at you like you're crazy; he's just dumbfounded, blinking at you as he tries to understand what's happening. did the girl he likes really just say they should kiss? because she loves christmas?

oscar gulps, but something in him gives him the courage to nod. "i mean," he starts, voice weak. "what's the harm? it's just... tradition."

"right. yeah, that's exactly what i was thinking."

the tension is higher than ever as your faces are already just inches apart. you aren't sure who should take the initiative and lean in, but before you can overthink it, you're both doing it subconsciously. your noses brush against each other briefly and a little giggle escapes past your lips, and this whole situation feels very familiar. this time, oscar can't hold back anymore, so he closes the gap and presses his mouth to yours.

the kiss is quick, not much longer than a peck, but something changes inside you. when you didn't know what it felt like to kiss oscar, you didn't think too much about it. but now that you have felt his lips on yours, you crave it.

he seems to feel the same way, because when you kiss him again, he's pressing against you instantly. your hands move from his chest to his shoulders as your lips move in sync, tilting your head to get a better angle. oscar's touch travels up and down your sides, fingers grazing the bare skin of your stomach when your sweater lifts.

oscar takes your bottom lip in between his teeth and you let out a hum, making him grin into the kiss. his tongue swipes between your lips before slipping into your mouth, exploring it for the first, but hopefully not last, time. you wrap your arms around his neck to pull him closer, already growing hot as his hands move down to your butt.

kissing oscar is so easy, so comfortable. it's like you've done it so many times before, like it's what you were made to do.

you're so relaxed and so focused on the kiss that you don't even hear lando's footsteps right next to you, nor his snicker from a few meters away as he picks up his phone to snap a couple of pictures. you don't even hear him strutting away to the living room, nor his loud proclamation to the group: mission complete.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 23rd, 8:35am

the rest of the days leading up to christmas consist of a lot of sneaking around.

the days are filled with secretive kisses when you're sure no one is watching, fleeting pecks or longer liplocks, hurriedly parting and acting like nothing happened when you hear approaching footsteps. they're filled with soft brushes as you pass each other in hallways, little squeezes of your waist or his arm when someone is around, conveying more than anyone could guess. and they're filled with giant, knowing smiles matching on your lips, with longing gazes and sly winks across the dinner table.

now, his hand is warm in yours despite the freezing temperatures of the air. when you said you forgot your mittens in the cabin, oscar had just smiled, taking off one of his own to give it to you. and to heat your other hand, he intertwined his fingers with yours, his thumb stroking the back of your hand as you walked.

you'd slipped out of the house before anyone else had woken up, wishing for a peaceful moment for yourselves. the two of you haven't really had time to properly talk ever since your moment under the mistletoe, and even though it wasn't outspoken, you both knew there were things to be discussed.

you're halfway around the lake when he finally touches on the subject. "so..." he starts, nudging your shoulder with his. "you like me, huh?"

you snicker. "i have for quite some time now, actually."

his hand squeezes yours. "tell me about it."

and when he asks, you tell.

you tell him about seeing him all those years ago, thinking that he was just a pretty face, a good driver, and not much else. you tell him about getting to know him more and more in the last two years and realizing that shit, he's so much more than that. you tell him about the butterflies, about the sneaky glances, about falling for him.

and then, he tells you his side.

he tells you about knowing of you from your first appearances in the f1 paddock, the curiosity in him growing for every picture of you and charles he saw. he tells you about wanting to approach you but not knowing how, not wanting to come off too strong or clingy. he tells you about how nothing has ever been more disappointing to him than charles's timing back in abu dhabi. then, he tells you about how his fingers had secretly been crossed all trip, hoping that lando's attempts to pair the two of you up wouldn't fall through.

you share giggles and smiles as you tell your stories, and it all feels so natural even though it's so new. and you think to yourself that maybe, this won't be so hard to get used to.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 23rd, 5:46pm

"how are things going with oscar?"

lily's voice makes your heart skip a beat. you had just walked into the kitchen to grab a gingerbread cookie, not expecting her to be doing the dishes this late in the evening – and especially not expecting her to ask you something like that. "what do you mean?" you ask back, trying to stay composed as you strut over to the cupboard, reaching into it for the box of cookies.

"are you going to be like... boyfriend and girlfriend now?"

the box slips out of your hands and crashes to the floor before you can catch it again. did you hear her correctly? your eyebrows shoot up and your mouth hangs open as you look at her again. she scoffs.

"oh please, the two of you aren't exactly sneaky," she says, looking back into the sink. "you know, lando took pictures of you under the mistletoe. and we all saw you coming back from your little trip to the lake earlier today."

"oh my god." you cover your face with your hands, letting out a groan. "oh my god. no way."

lily laughs, washing the last few plates under the tap before placing them on the side to drain. "don't worry, we were all in on it."

"and what does that mean?!"

"lando had a plan." of course he did. "we all agreed to help him out. except charles, he's still oblivious."

"what kind of plan?"

"well, just small things here and there, really." she wipes her hands on a towel before turning around and leaning against the counter. "hiding oscar's helmet so he'd have to stay here with you instead of skiing with us. walking really slowly in the market so you'd both get so tired of us that you'd stroll off alone. and the mistletoe, but that's obvious..."

as lily spills the details of lando's plan, you feel a mix of embarrassment and surprise, along with a hint of amusement. you're suddenly very aware of the collaboration that has taken place behind the scenes, and you take a deep breath as you slowly lower your hands from your face.

"so... lando really orchestrated all of this?" you exclaim, still trying to process the fact that your friends have been actively working to bring you and oscar closer together.

lily chuckles, nodding. "yes, and he's been loving every moment of it. we all figured you two needed a little push."

you shake your head in disbelief, a smile playing on your lips despite the initial shock. "what's the endgame here? is lando secretly a matchmaker or something?"

"he wishes," she says with a smirk. "i think he just enjoys playing cupid when he can." she shrugs, crossing her arms over her chest. "but hey, it worked out well, didn't it? you and oscar seem pretty cozy."

"yeah, i guess..." the mention of oscar brings a blush to your cheeks. "i just didn't expect to have a whole team of co-conspirators."

lily laughs, stepping forward to pat your shoulder. "it's all in good fun. besides, it's about time something happened between you two." you nod in agreement, smiling at her. "now, spill. how are you feeling about all of this? is he boyfriend material?"

you hesitate for a moment, contemplating your newfound dynamic with oscar. a smile tugs at the corners of your lips. "yeah, maybe. we're figuring it out, i guess. it's all been... surprisingly nice."

she grins, satisfied with your response. "well, then, i'd say lando's plan was a success." she backs away, walking towards the kitchen exit. "just enjoy it, okay? and don't be too mad at us. we just wanted to see you both happy."

you nod and watch as she leaves, still processing the directed events that have led up to this moment. as you're left alone, you can't help but smile to yourself at the thought of everything that's happened – and everything that's yet to come.

suddenly, for the first time in your life, you feel thankful for something lando has done. you'll have to remember to thank him later.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 24th, 10:23pm

just a few hours ago, charles was challenged to a snowball fight with the rest of the twitch quartet. and how could he ever say no to them?

for you to fall asleep before he got back would just be stupid, because there's no way he will be able to keep quiet when he eventually he crashes into the room post-fight. so instead, you sit against the headboard of your bed, a thick blanket draped over your body and a good book in your hands as you enjoy the tranquility of the last few moments of christmas eve.

there's a soft knock on the door, one so low you could've just as well missed it. "come in," you call out, looking up from your book as the door creaks open. surprise paints your face as oscar enters the room, his eyes sparkling with the thrill of carrying out a secret mission.

in his hands, oscar holds a beautifully wrapped box, adorned with a crimson bow. "merry christmas."

"oscar, what are you up to?" you ask, laughter dancing in your eyes.

"giving you your present." he sits at your feet, holding out the present to you.

you place your book beside you on the bed, accepting the gift with a curious smile. you unwrap the present, and as you remove the lid of the box and your eyes are met with a necklace, your breath hitches in your throat.

the heart-shaped pendant is familiar – it's the exact necklace you'd eyed in the christmas market. you look up at oscar, a myriad of emotions playing on your face. "i didn't forget my phone," he admits, a hint of vulnerability in his gaze. "i just really wanted to get it for you."

speechless, you delicately trace the edges of the pendant with your fingers. "oscar, i..."

"it's a christmas gift, but you can wear it whenever you want."

you hold the necklace up to him. "like now?"

he nods and takes it from you as you turn around, brushing away your hair so that he can secure the chain around your neck. when you turn back, you catch the glint of admiration in his eyes. "you look beautiful."

you hold the pendant between your thumb and pointer finger, a silent acknowledgment of the connection formed by the gift. "it's perfect, oscar. thank you." you tilt your head, smiling at him. "you're not getting your gift until tomorrow, though."

"just seeing you with this necklace is enough of a present for me. i don't need anything else."

‎‎ ‎‎‎

december 25th, 6:04pm

christmas day morning is for gift exchanges. you all sit around the tree in the living room, giving out presents and sharing the background stories behind the silly little things you've bought each other. you receive a ton of random objects that people had bought that day in the christmas market; objects they bought just to irritate you and oscar. now that you know, you find it quite funny – and seeing charles's confused face as you unwrapped a green screwdriver from lando is definitely one of your highlights of the day.

your present to oscar is, obviously, better planned than most other gifts. beneath the wrapper is a box titled "skiing survival kit" written in big, red letters. in it lies a pair of thick socks (with a note reading "to protect your feet from those horrible boots"), a bag of hot chocolate mix ("for moments when skiing feels too challenging; a little warmth to make everything better"), a bottle of peppermint-scented massaging oil ("you never know when you find yourself in need of a massage..."), and a handwritten letter about how you enjoyed your stay in the cottage much more than the actual skiing and a promise to stay in and warm his chair for him next time he's out "skiing".

then, midday rolls around. the chefs of the group, also known as the few people who don't burn everything they attempt to cook, take their time to make a good dinner. in the meantime, the rest of you prepare some games and competitions, including a trivia, a snow fort building competition, and a gingerbread house-decorating contest that ended in lando letting his competitiveness get the best of him. safe to say that no other gingerbread houses were still standing, other than lando's, meaning the brit won by default. his price: getting thrown in the snow in just his pyjamas.

and the evening? it's dedicated to a movie marathon, as per russell family traditions.

it has all been planned into the finest detail; the couch in the living room is decorated with blankets and pillows, nearly every bowl in the house is filled to the brim with snacks, and mattresses and pillows on the floor for those who don't fit on the couch. everyone was included of the vote of what movie you were going to see, though you had a feeling george had cheated when you were told the 'home alone' series won. especially since it's the one series he hasn't been able to stop talking about wanting to watch all trip.

you're settled on the edge of the couch, a blanket wrapped over your shoulders and your knees pulled up to your chest. you're laughing along with something kika has said from right next to you when you hear a beep from the kitchen, indicating that the last bag of popcorn was ready. you assumed lando would be getting up to fetch it, seeing as he was the one who insisted you needed one more bag, but when your eyes find him, he sits very contently and comfortably a few seats away. he looks back at you, eyebrows rising as you make eye contact.

"hey, you're the closest to the kitchen," he says, nodding his head in your direction. "go get them."

he isn't wrong, but he still makes no sense. "no way, norris."

he pouts. "please, be quick so we can start the movie already."

"you suck."

he sticks out his tongue at you but you've already walked off. when you return, a new bowl filled with popcorn in your arms, you aren't exactly surprised to see lando in the seat that used to be yours. you shoot him a glare, to which he answers, "i could barely see the tv from where i was sitting!"

"oh, but you think i'll be able to?" you scoff at the way he shrugs his shoulders, seemingly to say that it's now none of his business. and when you look at his old seat, you are even less surprised to see who's sitting right next to it.

oscar is looking up at you, confusion mixing into his features. he's been scrolling on his phone for the last few minutes and didn't notice when his teammate left him alone.

neither of you complain when you slip into lando's old spot, though. oscar immediately grabs the blanket in his lap and drapes it over you too. you shuffle closer to him as the movie turns on, the soft fabric of his pyjama pants brushing against yours. the bowl of popcorn is propped up on your lap, and when you reach into it to grab a handful, it touches something warm. you rip your eyes from the tv to see your hand brushing against oscar's. of course.

considering the other touches and kisses you've shared these last few days, it's not even a very intimate action. and yet, something about it leaves both of you giggling.

"so many clichés this trip, huh?" he says, eyes flickering between your hands and your face.

instead of answering, you grab his hand in yours. your fingers slip in between his easily, as they've done so many times these last few days, but you pull your hands underneath the blanket to keep them out of sight from everyone else.

it's a good movie, but it's easy for you to zone out when you feel oscar's hand squeeze yours. neither of you can really stay away from the other, inching closer as the movie progresses and stealing little cheek kisses when everyone is focused on the most exciting scenes. and when you start to grow a little tired, your head instinctively lands on his shoulder as you let out a little yawn. oscar desperately has to hold himself back from cooing at you, feeling so soft and prideful that you're leaning on him, and he settles for leaning his own head on you.

you both think you're being subtle, but everyone in the room understands what's going on. even charles, who has now been let in on what's happened between you and oscar after he walked in on lando telling alex about how cute the new couple in the house looked walking around the lake, can't take his eyes off the two of you. as your older brother, he feels like he should be doing something or saying something to protect you. he wonders what his role should be here – aren't brothers supposed to scare their sisters' boyfriends away?

but charles realizes that oscar isn't an enemy. in this moment, you look so peaceful, so content; like you've found the the long-lost puzzle piece to make you complete. how could he possibly interrupt that?

‎‎ ‎‎

december 25th, 11:28pm

charles is still fast asleep on the couch when you slip into oscar's room after the movie has ended, fingers intertwined and your laughter mixing as he pulls you along to his bed. his hands find your hips as he sits down on the edge of the bed, urging you to lower yourself onto his lap, and you happily oblige.

"look up," he says, and when you do, you're not surprised by what's hanging in the roof.

the mistletoe.

"oh," you start, looking back at him. last time you found yourself underneath the mistletoe with oscar, you had been more nervous than ever before. but this time, it isn't as scary. this time, you're able to shrug, a teasing grin forming on your lips. "i guess we should kiss, then. just for the christmas spirit, you know."

his lips are curved into a big smile. "oh, i do know." one of his hands comes up to tuck some hair behind your ear, cupping your cheek in his palm. "it's because you love christmas."

you can't hold back from giggling, and neither can he, both of you leaning in to seal your lips. your first encounter underneath the mistletoe was hesitant, but it feels like that was ages ago, in another lifetime. now, with his lips pressing against yours, it feels like it's all you've known.

he's so gentle with it, his kisses delicate and tender, and your heart flutters at the feeling. his hands land on your waist as your arms wrap around his neck, scooting in even closer. when your crotch brushes against him, he involuntarily lets out a moan into your mouth, and you stop for a moment to pull away. both your eyes and his are wide as you look at each other, and oscar doesn't know what to say. his mind is racing, not sure if you thought that was awkward or too soon or-

"that's so fucking hot," you say, and he finally exhales. you kiss him again, speaking against his lips. "wanna hear more."

he has no problems letting out more sounds when you keep up your actions, your hips rolling down on him rhythmically. his hands find the hem of your sweater and slip inside, instantly roaming your sides. his cold touch tickles, and when his fingers move along your waist, you can't help but giggle against his lips. he laughs along with you, but he only does it to match you. he's dumbfounded when you part from him and you grab his wrists to make him halt.

"you're too cold," you start, a bit breathless already. "it's-"

"are you really that ticklish?" he chuckles, fingers running up and down your sides again to test you, and his heart melts when you throw your head back, laughing. "oh come on, how am i supposed to do this if i can't touch you?"

"warm your fingers next time and we should be fine."

"next time, huh?" a combination of a smirk and a grin plays on his lips. "planning ahead?"

"well, it depends on how well you perform tonight." he sticks out his tongue at your taunting tone. "just take it off already, will you?"

oscar happily obliges, pulling the material off you before reaching for his own sweater, throwing them both onto the floor. his eyes stick to your chest, to the soft, red bed bra holding up your breasts, and he feels himself growing harder instantly, because this is so much better than he'd imagined. you can't exactly complain about what your eyes are met with, either; oscar's toned chest and his broad shoulders are basically calling out for you to come and press your lips to them. or sink your teeth in them. probably both.

he gives you a few quick kisses before his hands land on your hips and he flips you both around, laying you onto the covers. his lips meet the skin below your ear, and then travel down the side of your neck. he hears your breath hitch in your throat when he finds a spot you enjoy particularly much, making sure to memorize it for the future. and when his kisses trail even further down, they meet something hard and metallic. when he leans back, he realizes that you're wearing the necklace.

he didn't notice it until now, since he was too busy being mesmerized by your breasts earlier; but now, he can't take his eyes off it. the little heart charm rests just above your actual heart, and something about seeing it makes his heart flutter. the necklace he bought for you, the one that makes you think of him and only him. it's like you're already tagged as his.

"cute," he whispers to himself, placing a long kiss right on top of the heart. he can feel your real heart beating underneath his lips, fast but not really enough, and he can't wait to make you feel like it's pounding out of your chest.

he starts placing open-mouthed kisses down your stomach, his hands finding the waistband of your sweatpants.

"you okay with me taking these off?" he asks, parting from your skin to watch you nod your head. he pulls the material down your body, smiling when your underwear comes into sight. they're not a pair of lacy lingerie or victoria's secret-lookalikes, but just a regular pair of panties in a deep green color with little candy canes. his eyes flicker between your bra and your panties. "green and red, huh?"

"well, what can i say?" you smile. "i love christmas." he giggles, and so do you, as he leaves your pants somewhere on the floor before moving further down your body. when his hands near the fuzzy socks with little cartoon santas dressing your feet, you're quick to speak. "those stay on, though."

"oh, is that so?"

"gotta make sure you're not just doing this for that foot fetish you might or might not have." a laughter erupts from his chest. "i've had too much of that recently."

"well, i don't have one, so i don't mind you keeping them on." he moves up on the bed again, fingers reaching the hem of your underwear. "but i can take these off, right?"

"things would get kinda tricky otherwise, i'd say,” you tease, but oscar merely blinks up at you with raised eyebrows.

"tricky, yes. but not impossible."

you shake your head, a grin making its way onto your lips. "next time, oscar."

and there it is again. next time. the way you say it so casually, like there's no doubt in your mind that there will be another time, that you'll do all of this again.

yet again, instant boner.

your panties are off in a second, and he doesn't waste any time before pressing his lips to the inside of your thigh. his hand takes care of your other thigh, thumb brushing up and down your skin, as your lips travel closer and closer to where you want him the most.

you suck in a breath when you feel his warm breath against your core. his tongue meets your clit and your eyes flutter closed, one of your hands reaching down to entangle in his hair. as his tongue draws circles around your bud, one of his hands leaves your thigh, a finger swiping along your wet folds before pushing slowly into you. you don't know which sensation to focus on, both growing stronger and pushing you closer to your limit every passing second. when he's pumped you a couple of times, he adds another finger and then another, pushing deep into you. his fingers curling inside of you makes you pull on his hair even harder, your mind growing hazy and your breaths shorter.

"o-oscar," you let out, subconsciously buckling your hips towards him in hopes of creating more friction. "i'm so clos-"

you're cut off by the combination of a moan and a whine that leaves your lips when his tongue flicking your clit speeds up. "come for me, sweetheart," he tells you, his voice sending vibrations against your core.

your legs shake around him as you completely let go, feeling the climax wash over you just moments after his order. your free arm drapes over your face, covering your eyes in your arm as you try to catch your breath. oscar continues lapping you up, helping you ride it out, also licking his fingers clean before letting his hands caress your sides soothingly. he's unsure whether his fingers are warm enough now to not tickle you, or if you're just too busy coming down from your high to even realize you should feel ticklish, but he smiles at the thought nonetheless.

"everything alright up here?" oscar asks as he moves up to your face again, one of his hands prying the arm off your face. you slowly open your eyes, your hazy gaze meeting his loving one and you can't help but to cup his face in your hands. you pull him down to your lips, lazily lacing them together. he pulls away just enough for his lips to still brush yours when he speaks. "i'll take that as a yes."

you're quick to nod, but even quicker to connect his lips with yours again, not wanting to be apart for even a second.

your hands slide down his neck and the front of his body, loving the feeling of his strong muscles under your touch. your fingers reach down to the edge of his pajama pants, and you let out a chuckle when you notice the ever-growing tent in them. "don't laugh at me," he starts, biting down on your bottom lip as a warning. "you're so hot, how could i not get this hard?"

"oh, shut it," you say, feeling a blush creep onto your cheeks. "just take them off, will you?"

"as you wish."

as he shuffles off the bed and pulls off his own pants, plus his boxers along with them, you take the time to reach behind you and unclasp your bra, letting it slide down your arms and off the bed. when he reaches into the bedside table and pulls out a condom, you raise your eyebrows. "oh, so you were planning this?"

he shakes his head as he climbs on top of you again. "i was hoping, not expecting. those are two very different things." he removes the wrapper and throws it onto the table, rolling the condom onto himself. "do you need anything? or-"

"just you."

oscar presses his smile to yours, kissing you like he has no rush in the world, like he just wants to savor this moment with you. "well then," he says against your lips, nudging his dick against your entrance. "i have to give the lady what she wants, don't i?"

you can't control the whine that slips into his mouth when he pushes into you. you thought you were ready for him, but he's so big and he stretches you out so perfectly. he pauses once he's slipped entirely into you, his lips finding a spot below your ear as he allows you to get used to him. your pussy is throbbing already, still sensitive from just minutes ago, and the little involuntary clenches around him make oscar grow more and more eager.

when he finally starts moving, you drape your arms around his shoulders for stability. his thrusts are slow but deep, and yet you desperately want more of him. you hook a leg over his hip, the other following soon after, and you gasp at the way he bottoms you out completely. one of his hands comes up to squeeze your breast, thumb flicking over the nipple as his pace speeds up. the sounds you make and the way your legs squeeze him close makes him feel like he could cum anytime, but he tries to hold back because he needs to see you fall apart beneath him for the second time tonight.

"oscar..." you cry out when his free hand slides down your body, a finger coming in contact with your clit again.

"just a little more, love." his thrusts have grown sloppy and his figures on your bud aren't exactly perfect, but it's good enough for your orgasm to hit.

your back arches off the bed, your chest pressing into his as you nuzzle your face into the side of his neck to hide your moans. when your walls tighten around him, he reaches his high too, his body shaking as he rides it out. your heart is about ready to jump out of your chest when he collapses onto you, both of you trying to catch your breaths. "holy fuck," oscar starts, his breath warm on your skin. "that was amazing. you feel amazing." you try to gather energy to speak, fingers getting lost in his curls. "you taste amazing, too. better than any christmas dinner."

you give him a weak slap to his shoulder. "shush."

"it's true!" he pushes himself back a bit, mouth hanging in mock offense. "this was the best present i could've ever wished for."

"the necklace is higher on my list, though."

oscar pauses for a moment. "i'm not sure if i should feel proud or offended."

you snicker. "i was hoping for the latter," you tease, but regret it the moment oscar's hands find your waist, fingers dancing along it and tickling you yet again. the squeal you let out does nothing to halt his actions, and he doesn't even budge when you try to push him away by his shoulders. "i was kidding!"

"apologize. now."

his fingers still working their way on your skin make it almost impossible for you to speak again, but you do your best to take a deep breath. "i'm- i'm sorry! oscar- stop it!"

he finally stops, and you finally get to breathe. "i'll go get a wet towel," oscar says, pulling away from you and giving you one last glance. he almost doesn't leave the bed when he looks at you, though – he finds the sight almost too good to be true. your rosy cheeks, the dreamy smile on your lips, your hair spread out on the pillows. he's scared that if he leaves you, maybe the spell will be broken and he'll realize all of this has just been a dream. because that's just how this all feels: surreal.

but it is real, and he can't wait to have you like this in his bed again.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 26th, 12:56pm

packing up after a good trip is always a bittersweet affair. realizing that you have the real world waiting for you, your actual lives with responsibilities and obligations, and that you can't just stay in this fairytale forever – this moment was definitely not something you looked forward to.

you and charles need to get back to monaco to celebrate christmas with your other brothers and your mother, before he needs to go away for pre-season work again. you're meticulously folding up your clothes, zipping up bags and exchanging smiles as you reminisce on memories of the week.

but, things are different this time. you know that the magic of this trip isn't going to stay here – in one way or another, you'll bring some of it with you back to your real life.

oscar.

you've already made plans to meet up after new years, and even when he's busy with work, you know that you'll at least see him during every race weekend. neither of you are ever more than a flight, or a call, away, and you just can't wait to see where this all takes you.

"so... oscar, huh?" charles's voice breaks the silence, his eyes glancing in the direction of your open door that lets in the sound of oscar's voice from the living room.

"hm? what about him?" you reply, trying to hold back the smile threatening to adorn your lips when you hear his name.

charles cocks an eyebrow at you. "you and him... kind of obvious." he gazes towards your bed. "besides, your bed is made. you didn't sleep here last night."

"well, i-" you start, but charles interrupts with a knowing chuckle.

"relax, i'm not going to be a police. just..." he shows off a sweet smile. "enjoy it."

with a nod and a shared understanding, you both continue packing, an unspoken acknowledgment hanging in the air. the group gathers to bid you farewell by the front door, and gratitude fills your heart as you exchange goodbyes with your friends. you grow especially soft when lando pulls you into a hug, a cheeky grin on his lips. "thank you," you whisper, giving his cheek a quick peck to really convey how much you appreciate everything he's done this holiday. he just squeezes you back, telling you not to worry about it.

finally, as you turn to say your farewell to oscar, the atmosphere shifts and the group watches with amused anticipation. "until next time," you say, your eyes holding a promise that transcends the physical distance.

"until next time," he repeats, smiling as you engulf him in a tight hug.

you pull away just enough for your ear to brush against his ear, your voice low. "charles knows, by the way."

"w-what?" his eyes widen for a moment, flickering between you and your brother – but then realization dawns. "well, in that case..."

before you can react, oscar pulls you closer again. he presses a goodbye-kiss on your lips, right there in front of everyone, and the group erupts into cheers.

and the loudest of them all? lando, of course. "if i'm not the best man at your wedding, i'll never forgive you guys."

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shibaraki · 9 months

Text

KISS IT BETTER ┊ SHINSOU HITOSHI

tags: GN reader, pro hero shinsou, support engineer reader, brief descriptions of blood + injury, tending to wounds, mutual pining, fluff, idiots to lovers, love confessions

wc: 1.9k

“You know I’m not a doctor, Hitoshi,” your voice is a low murmur yet loud in the cramped space of your bathroom. Just you, his shallow breathing and the steady flow of water in the sink. “I wish you would actually go to a hospital, or someone with a healing quirk”.

Hitoshi shrugs in the reflection and immediately appears to regret it as his face twists in discomfort, the movement jostling his wound. The bullet grazed a vivid arc right across the back of his left shoulder; thankfully not deep enough to require stitches or to damage the layers of skin beneath, but given the awkward to reach area and the blood that had been streaming through his fingers upon arrival you can’t say you blame him for waking you.

“You do it better,” he rasps. The soft hair on the back of your neck stands on end as you sense his eyes on you in the mirror. “You’re gentle. And good with your hands”.

The gauze dabbed around his wound is saturated red, quickly darkening and taking on a brownish hue. Resolutely avoiding his gaze you toss it beside the molehill of stained swabs already on the counter, reaching for a clean one and running it under the cold water. “I’m good with your equipment,” you stress with a huff, willing the heat crawling up your neck to go away. Years of working with delicate machinery keeps your hands steady. “I fix gadgets, Hitoshi. Not people”.

Hitoshi hums. Rather than contemplative he sounds faintly amused at your strong denial, as though he knows something you don’t. “You fix me just fine,” comes his soft reply as you successfully staunch the bleeding. Following the steps that have become routine for you both, he passes back the usual tub from your med kit—used so often now that the label has worn off—and adds nothing further while you cover the wound with a thin layer of petroleum jelly.

“Bandage,” you say, proffering your hand once more. Hitoshi twists his good arm to give you the non-stick dressings. You mumble an apology at the quiet hiss drawn between gritted teeth as you smooth the covered edges around the wound. “And… there. You’re set. That’s as good as you’ll get from me”.

Hitoshi turns in place before you’ve the chance to step away. You find yourself closer than intended. The white luminescence drapes over his shoulders and glints off the silver studs in each earlobe. You don’t know where to look. His ribs expand as he takes a staggered breath and your chests meet; a brief touch of bare skin but enough to make the sound of your heart flood your ears.

You catch how his throat bobs and entertain the thought that he might be equally affected. “Thanks,” he says. The gentle timbre of his voice settles over you like a cold fog of longing.

Neither of you have moved. You do not address the proximity as you study his upper body. There’s old bruising on his hip that looks a bit like an abstract painting but nothing else of immediate concern. He’s lean and angular, tall enough to cast an impressive shadow; neither of you are children anymore.

“You don’t have any other injuries hidden, do you?” you ask, eyes trailing up the column of his throat and lingering on the healed scar tissue cutting through the right of his mouth. It begins beneath his nose, strikes through the dark scruff along his jaw and ends far beneath his jugular, a paint stroke left by a brush with death. The memory is fresh in your mind and guides your hands to cup his chin, thumb tracing the raised skin. You don’t recall ever being that afraid for anyone, and yet he returned to work the day after as though nothing had happened.

At the very least it gives you ample reason to stare at his mouth. You can feel his gaze on you, peering down through half lidded eyes. There’s warm intensity behind them, like he can see through your poorly strung excuse, but if that is the case then he’s allowing it to happen, and you think that reveals just as much.

“It healed perfectly. You don’t need to worry about it,” he murmurs. There’s almost a breathless quality to it that invites goosebumps. And you freeze, as if caught.

“Not worried,” his lips press thin at the sudden cold tone as you turn to gather the used gauze and throw it in the bin beside the sink. “Your funeral not mine”.

Hitoshi moves when you nudge him aside, blood staining the dispenser as you squeeze some soap into your hands and scrub yourself raw under the running tap. The murky red water gurgles down the drain, rivulets streaking higher up the basin and likely to stain. You’re so lost in the sight that you barely register the larger hand coming to cover your own.

“Stop. Let me,” he says, already prying your entwined fists apart to gently massage the soap along each finger. Body heat seeps through your sleep shirt as he loosely wraps around you. You lean into him a fraction and imagine he’s embracing you like a lover while he cleans the dried blood from beneath your nails.

Silence befalls the small space once the water cuts out. Rather than dry your hands Hitoshi keeps them there, encased in his, his thumbs stroking back and forth over your knuckles. He rests his forehead on the curve of your throat and something shifts. The atmosphere, the ephemeral thing between you that you called friendship, the hips that press closer until he’s shaped perfectly to your back.

“I’m sorry,” you hear him say.

Wild violet hair tickles your cheek. It’s shorter than last time. You stare at your conjoined reflection as you overturn your wrists, threading your wet fingers together until your palms kiss. “For what?” you prompt, watching his head lift while you speak. “For constantly breaking your support equipment? For bursting into my apartment after midnight and bleeding all over my carpet again? For scaring me and making me lose sleep? For this—” your eyes meet in the mirror and your mouth becomes dry. “For this less than professional relationship?”

At that the corner of Hitoshi’s mouth lifts in the suggestion of a smile, and suddenly exasperation and fondness is warring over your expression. He clears his throat, almost shy, and he tightens his grip on your fingers. “I guess I’m sorry for all of that, too. But that’s not what I meant”.

“What else is there?” you tilt your head. In a heart stopping move, he turns his nose into your temple.

“I’m sorry I can’t… shit. That I can’t be normal about this kind of thing,” he admits, jaw shifting as he fights the discomfort that so often accompanies being vulnerable. “I always feel like I need some dire excuse otherwise you’ll see right through me”.

“See through you—?” the clamouring in your mind comes to a standstill. Your tongue sits heavy behind your teeth. You spin in his arms, The sink counter digs into your lower back and your hands, mostly dried by the air, come to rest on his bare chest. A mottled blush spreads across his collarbones. “What, you bled on my carpet because you didn’t want me to know you liked me or something?”

Hitoshi grimaces. His eyes rose to the ceiling to avoid your scrutiny and he hesitates to hold your hips. “Sounds stupid when you put it like that,” he huffs.

“Because it is,” you remark, sliding your hands further up and around his ears. Cradling the back of his head you tip him forward and force him to look at you. “You could’ve just brought me coffee at work or something”.

“You’re missing the point,” he mutters, gaze dropping to your lips and away, staring at the space between your eyebrows. “I did it so you wouldn’t know”.

“Why not?”

“Because there’s no way that you’d…” he blinks. His words lose strength as your nose bumps his. You feel a shaky breath leave his lips.

“No way that I’d like you?” as you finish the sentence for him, unsure if he even hears you behind then far off look in his eyes. Emboldened, you pitch your voice lower, quiet enough to cover the short distance between your mouths. You stroke your thumb over the swell of his cheek and say, “You think I patch up every guy that rolls through my bedroom window?”

“Well. There better not be any other guys coming in through your windows,” he rasps, cautiously tipping forward. A playful furrow has etched into his brow. Hitoshi wets his lips, searching your expression for something—perhaps rejection or anything close to it. “I know you’re a good person. You’re good to me. I figured that’s all it was”.

“Right, I’m good to you,” you nod and hear his breathing hitch as your mouths brush. The blush across his chest has spread fingers up his throat to his cheeks, enough reach to stain his ears pink. Hitoshi sways forward. You collide. He kisses you, finally. It is every bit as solemnly sweet and respectful as the hands at your waist.

You can’t help but smile, and feel his smile in turn. There is something so boyish and coy about it; you would never expect it from a man of his status—a man that sees the worst of humanity and spends his nights both evading and preventing death.

“…Oh,” he breathes dumbly as you pull back, his focus caught on the swipe of your tongue.

“Oh,” you repeat to lightheartedly tease, pushing the heel of your hands to his cheeks together until his mouth juts into an ugly pout. Restlessness grips you seeing it paired with his dazed expression, already wanting more than he can give in his current condition.

You release his cheeks and rub them in apology. “You’re done for the night, yeah?”

“Yeah…?” fingers dig in at your soft waist, drawing you impossibly close, as though he were savouring the last of the moment. You smooth over his shoulders, down the curve of his biceps, along thick forearms to take his wrists.

“Good. You’re coming to bed with me,” you tell him. The stupefied look after tucking a kiss to the corner of his mouth will never get old, you’re sure of it. “We’re going to sleep. Tomorrow I’ll help you clean and redress your injury and then,” you press another kiss on his jaw, nuzzling the coarse stubble there, “then you can take me out for breakfast”.

You almost lose your footing. In one swift motion Hitoshi has swung the bathroom door open and begun corralling you through it toward the bedroom. There’s an echo of soft, near drunken laughter as you navigate the darkness, and you realise, belatedly, that it is coming from you.

The strong arms cinched around your middle unraveled to drop you on top of the covers. Reclining into the plush pillows at the head of your bed, you holdout your arms to welcome Hitoshi into honeyed repose. The mattress yields under his weight. Breath held, he crawls over to you—braces over you and sinks onto his forearms.

Seconds pass. Fingers dance across his back, avoiding his bandages. Your grin is concealed by the darkness but it’s clear in your voice. “Hitoshi,” you whisper. “You can breathe now”.

With an exaggerated exhale, Hitoshi sinks into the crook of your body and smooshes his face into the pillow beside your head. “I’ll try not to bleed on your bedsheets,” he says, muffled. Then quieter, when he’s sure you can’t hear it, “I like you”.

#bnha x reader #mha x reader #shinsou x reader #shinsou hitoshi x reader

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haarrrys · 10 months

Text

bo peep 🦢

wc - 1.1K

🏷️ tags - boyfriend!harry, fem!reader, long distance relationship, fluff, slight angst if you squint.

pairings - boyfriend!harry & fem!reader 🕰️🎧

summary - y/n is hiding something, or someone, from harry, who is on the other side of the world.

(a/n) no spellcheck, so i apologize in advance! i wrote this in like five mins so it’s kinda.. blah but I wanted to share it :)

“so.. I did a thing.” is the first thing y/n says to him after accepting his facetime.

“oh no..” harry chuckles, his eyes furrowing in confusion, and a little worry.

“please don’t be mad.”

“well.. love, that depends on what it is..” harry says, his once playful mood beginning to diminish. what if it’s something serious?

“it’s something that could change our relationship forever.” y/n says, a blank face staring back at harry through the screen. uncomfortable chills run down his body, and he wishes he wasn’t miles away from her.

“is this something we should be discussing over facetime then..?” harry sighs, a frown taking over his features. he was excited to call y/n after his show, having missed her the whole day, but now this uncertainty is fucking up his day.

“i better just show you now..i think it would be better this way.” y/n explains, shuffling heard from her end. from the background, he can tell y/n is still in their “shared” bedroom in england. (it’s harry’s, but he likes to call it’s theirs) for some reason, this eases his anxiety slightly.

“come here, it’s okay.” he hears y/n whisper.

“did you adopt a baby or summat? why are you cooing..” harry starts, but his words become quiet as the smallest little white kitten enters the frame.

it’s silent for a moment, until the little thing meows, and harry barks out a laugh that startles the kitten.

“oh god, love— i thought— I thought this was something serious!” he says in between laughs, attempting to catch his breath.

y/n pretends to be offended, but the smile she fights off her face says otherwise. “oi! this is very serious. could make or break our relationship, because im not returning her.” she explains, making harry smile at her cuteness.

“i thought we agreed no pets? for now atleast..” harry says. since he’s always touring, traveling, moving, adopting a pet just wouldn’t fit into that lifestyle. they’d have to get pet sitters, who more often than not would be spending more time with the kitten than them.

“i know but.. it’s so lonely here. i need a companion. when me and y’mum visited the animal shelter and i saw this sweet little angel.. I couldn’t leave her there. anne said she kinda looks like you too.”

harry chuckles, “should’ve known my mum had something to do with this. crazy cat lady.”

“don’t call your mother that.” she hisses, although knowing, there is some truth to his words.

harry ignores her comment, “im sorry that you feel lonely. long distance is..hard. but are you sure about this? when you join me on tour it’s gonna be difficult with a kitten.”

“im sure. ill take her everywhere if i have to, she’s the sweetest, calmest girlie ever.”

“and it’s okay, i knew what i was getting myself into when we started dating.”

harry frowns at that. “i feel like a shit boyfriend.” he admits, sighing. y/n frowns back, setting the kitten down on harry’s side of the bed, which he envy’s for a split second.

“your an amazing boyfriend harry. so don’t say that.”

“i feel like i’m neglecting you— i should be with you.”

y/n shakes her head,”y’not. long distance isn’t rare y’know? you love touring, it makes you happy, I’m not upset. sure it gets..lonely, but that’s just part of being miles apart right? would be weird if I didn’t get lonely.. the love of my life is across the world!” she laughs.

harry smiles, making no attempt to cover the blush that tints his cheeks. for the first time in a relationship, he feels theirs a mutual bond of just..love, and needing eachother.

“you make me happy too, more than touring i reckon.” he says, making her pout dramatically through the screen. “don’t make me cry in front of bo peep haz.” she sniffs.

“bo peep? as in… from toy story? you named the kitten bo peep?” harry says, a serious look on his face before he breaks into laughter.

“wha? it’s a good name! i call her bo for short. don’t laugh at it! and also, not just from toy story..it’s a nursery rhyme too.” she says, acting offended.

“sorry love, it’s not a bad name. i kinda love it. bo.” he tries.

y/n smiles, nodding, before she yawns.

“tired babe?” harry asks, remembering it’s pretty early for her right now. it’s ‘twelve am’ for him.. so it’s like, five or six am for her.

“mhmh..couldn’t fall asleep with this little one.. feel like a new parent. im scared something will happen to her. also, wanted to hear your voice.” she says, yawning again at the end of her sentence.

harry coos, “imagine when we have babies, you’re gonna be a wreck.” he laughs. the topic isn’t foreign, or uncomfortable for them. in the two years they’ve been together, talking about babies and marriage is something that always comes up in their conversations, especially late night ones.

in past relationships, talking about children so early on would frighten harry, but with her.. it just seems so normal. he can talk about their nonexistent babies and actually picture their family; curly brown haired babies with harrys green eyes but their mothers face.

“me? y’know your gonna be much worse. i can already see you freaking out.” she tiredly laughs, images of harry frightened when her water breaks, or when their baby takes a small little tumble that wouldn’t leave more than just a tiny scratch.

harry laughs, “your not completely wrong.”

“is bo asleep?” harry asks, watching y/n’s eyes shoot awake. he feels bad, she almost succumbed to her much needed slumber, but harry wasn’t done talking to her.

“umm,” she says, sitting up to look a bo, who is nuzzled comfortably into harrys pillow, soft meows involuntarily leaving her.

“look at her.” y/n coos, moving the camera so harry can see bo.

“awhh, she’s adorable. i can’t wait to meet her. will you send me photos?” harry says. as soon as he’s up tomorrow, he’s gonna show all the crew members their newest addition.

“mhmm.. i already have a photo album for her.”

her words are lazier, indicating harry should let her sleep now, much to his dissatisfaction.

“alright baby, it’s been good talking to you, but I think you need to sleep now.” harry smiles, causing y/n to groan, “m’sorry i couldn’t talk long..will you stay on the phone?”

harry shakes his head, “think we both know that only ends with me talking off y’ear love. you can call me when you wake up.” he says.

y/n frowns, but nods. “g’night harry, i love you. bo loves you.”

“night, love you both, sending my kisses.” he says, finally signing off when y/n blows him a kiss.

thank you so much for reading! ☕️ 🤍

requests are always open!

-fic rec masterlist-

#harry styles #harry styles fluff #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #boyfriend!harry #harry kitten #harry fanfiction #harry x reader #harrys house #harrystylesfluff #harry styles drabble #harry styles fic #one direction fanfiction #harry styles concept #harry styles x you #harry styles one shot #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles fanfic

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leighsartworks216 · 6 months

Note

Screaming crying crawling up the walls for your top tier Astarion content

Idk if you’ve seen this, it’s floating around the internet (I think it’s a tweet?) it says something like “I want someone to grab my face and say ON PURPOSE, I WILL CARE FOR YOU ON PURPOSE” and I’d love to see our love-deprived bi-centurion react to something like this.

Like maybe he’s caught feelings for tav and is starting to feel bad for manipulating them and starts self-sabotaging by saying/thinking stuff like ‘you only THINK you love me but it’s not real, I’m sorry I made you feel this way’ and tav getting v v serious and replying “I never loved you by accident”.

Him being confronted by the fact that things never would’ve gotten this far if they didn’t let it, if they didn’t choose him, that they’re still choosing him and that it has nothing to do with the act he put up or the situation he constructed, if they wanted nothing to do w him they could’ve and would’ve dipped.

Idk I’m just spitting ideas, have fun babe ✌🏻

- 🦇

I wrote this at 2am but I did proofread it (it's almost 4 now 💀)

Also the original tweet is by Jenny Slate (@/jennyslate) and says, "I just want someone to grab my little face and scream 'ON PURPOSE, ON PURPOSE I AM GOING TO CARE ABOUT YOU'"

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Warnings: self-doubt, references to manipulation, self-deprecation, references to dissociation, dissociation mention, hurt/comfort

Word Count: 1,392

Main Masterlist

Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

It began one night, almost a week ago. Astarion had gotten into the routine of joining you in your bedroll after feeding, cuddling close and relaxing to the steady sound of your heartbeat. That night, a week ago, he didn’t. He delicately bit into your skin and pulled away before you were even slightly dizzy, murmured something about how you’d need your strength for a fight tomorrow, and slipped off to hunt for animals. Truly, you didn’t think anything of it, then. And maybe you got so lost, so caught up in your daily stress, that was why you didn’t register it for so long. Comments under his breath about manipulation immediately covered up with Gale requesting a magical artifact or Shadowheart and Lae’zel fighting.

So, a week went by. And the realization finally hit. Guilt ate away at your stomach, but wallowing wasn’t going to help. When night started to creep in, your companions slipping into their tents, you slipped into Astarion’s. Sitting in a pile of pillows, he looked up at you with a smirk and a ‘Hello, darling’, but it didn’t reach his eyes. They were dark. Distant.

“I’m sorry I haven’t given you the attention you need,” you start. A baffled look flickers across his face, but it is not given the time to settle.

There is a twitch at the corner of his mouth, like it’s a strain for him to keep smirking. “It’s perfectly alright, darling. You’ve been busy running around camp, helping people - I understand.”

With any other person, this would have seemed a perfectly reasonable response. An apology accepted, a mutual understanding - the relationship goes on. Except, this was Astarion.

You sit down nearby, close enough to reach out and touch. Any closer and you worried you’d overcrowd him. You always tried to let him come to you first, though he usually struggled to initiate anything.

“You’ve been distant, too,” you point out. He begins to form the words to apologize, but you shake your head to stop him before they can build a sentence. “I’m not upset, I don’t need an apology. I just wanted to know why.”

To be honest, he didn’t expect you to notice. He assumed, quite stupidly, all things considered, that you would be too preoccupied to notice him slowly slipping away. Late night cuddles dashed for hunting, hand holding forgotten as he trails along at the back of the group, kisses never lingering and the ones that did lacking any emotion behind them.

“Is something wrong?” you prompt gently. “If it’s too much, we can work out what would be better for you.”

Guilt stabs at his own non-beating heart like a wooden stake. He’s drifting and you still throw him a rope, still ask for him to grab on and pull himself away from his past, from dissociating with the slightest hint of affection.

He smiles wryly. “I can’t hide anything from you, can I?” he teases, but it comes out a little too strained to be a joke. His fingers fiddle with the corner of the page of his book. He finds watching the paper fold and bend is much more interesting than looking into your eyes.

He sighs. “I’m sorry, my dear,” he says, but the endearment feels like fire on his tongue, “but it’s not real. This isn’t real.” Your brow furrows as you stare at him. He can’t bear to see the realization cross your face. “Two hundred years of manipulating - of course I would trick you, too. It’s instinct, darling, I don’t blame you.” Red eyes finally meet yours. You look confused, of course, but there’s an air of determination, like you’re ready to fight whatever plagues him. “But this… love… it’s not real. And for what it’s worth, I am sorry I made you feel this way.”

He expects anger. He expects tears, even. Crying and shouting and ‘How could you?!’s and ‘I can’t believe you’ve manipulated me all this time!’ But it never comes. You frown, sure, but it’s leagues away from being angry.

“You think… you manipulated me into feeling this way?”

It shouldn’t hurt as much as it does. Admitting it feels bitter. He blames it on his growing fondness for you, but he knows it cannot possibly be returned in any genuine way. Not with his underhanded tactics surfacing at every passing glance, soft brush, and gentle smile. “Come now, darling,” he smirks again, building a wall to separate himself from the shitshow that must be just ‘round the corner, “who could really love me?”

That only succeeds in making you frown further. “Astarion, I’m not with you because you’ve tricked me.” The baffled look from earlier surfaces again, but it lingers, mixed with doubt. “I understand that you started this to manipulate me into protecting you, but I’m not here because you successfully influenced my emotions - To be perfectly honest, I could tell from the start.”

He laughs dryly, suddenly, like it startles him. “And here I was thinking I’d learned some subtlety.”

You don’t laugh with him. You don’t even smile. “I chose you, Astarion. I still choose to be with you. Because I want to.”

Any lingering mask of confidence fell from his face. The creases around his mouth became more prominent as he frowned. His eyes darted around, glancing around your face for any tells of deception, any hint that you’re making this up to make him feel better. “How can you be sure? How do you know you’re choosing me and not just buying into another act?”

“Astarion.” You get on your knees and hold his face in your hands. He stares up at you with big, round eyes. “If I wanted to, I could break up with you. I am not staying because I feel stuck, or because I feel obligated to. I love you. On purpose. On purpose, I am staying with you. On purpose, I choose you.”

He opens his mouth, but no words form. His mind is reeling, chasing to catch up and process everything, all the while jumping and flipping, trying to find excuses or reasons why you shouldn’t care for him. He swallows the lump building in his throat. He speaks in a whisper, too stunned to speak louder. “Are you sure?”

Your whole face softens. Determination turns to fond affection, frown lifting into a soft grin. “Yes. I’m sure.” You press a kiss to his forehead, and he closes his eyes to savor it. It’s been a week without allowing himself your love - he deserves to enjoy it once again, even if he feels guilty for it. He wishes his thoughts would just shut up and let him have this. “If you still need space or time, I’ll be here. I’m not leaving. Just,” you pull his face back, “please talk to me about this next time. I know things have been hectic, but I’m never too busy for you.”

He sighs, slow and soft. Relieved. “Of course, my love.” He adores the way you smile brightly at the endearment. He turns sheepish. “Ah, could I, possibly, join you tonight? It does, admittedly, get rather lonely passing the time alone.”

You kiss his cheek. “Of course you can. C’mon, I’ll even play with your hair if you’d like.”

He chuckles, genuine this time. “I very much would.” His book is set aside, the page he left off on lost as he takes your hand and follows you from his tent. He can’t help himself from squeezing your hand in his, like he can’t quite grasp the fact you are physically holding onto him. Even when you lay down first and he settles in next to you, arms wrapped around your middle and his head on your chest, it still feels hard to believe. But the way you wrap your arms around him and gently detangle his curls and scratch lightly at his scalp cannot possibly be from his imagination. Nor the way you press kisses on his forehead and temple and hair with sweet praises and words of affection. His mind is not kind enough to imagine such tenderness.

Laying there in your arms, listening to the steady beat of your heart and even breaths that fill your lungs as you slip into sleep, is the closest he has ever been to true contentment.

---

Tag List:

@hypopxia @flsalazar @beverlybeav @angelofthorr @emiemiemiii @marina-and-the-memes @lynnloveslokiredacted @aurasyn @furblrwurblr @cappsikle @mjmygd @thegirlsadventuresinwonderland @kindadolly @bloopthebat @pandimoostuff @chesb0red @black-star1472 @sessils @olitheghostboy-blog @puppyg1rl666 @maruichio @cyber-dump-171 @katharynmarie @twinkliker3000 @cherifrog @catching-fire-in-the-wind @phantoms-fandom-blog

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klausinamarink · 3 months

Text

When Life Gives You Pickles, Make It Into Soup

rating: G | cw: none | wc: 920 | tags: established relationship, domestic bliss, soup | prompt: Love is silently passing them a pickle because you know it’s their favourite

written for @steddielovemonth

“So Gareth was supposed to stay on the drums, right?” Eddie waves his hands in the air where he sits on the counter. “That’s like his whole thing since he joined the band.”

“Okay.” Steve nods, glancing over at Eddie as he starts sliding the chopped carrots and potatoes into the pot from the cutting board.

“But during practice, which was today, he says that he wants to play bass guitar. Which, in another day, I would be completely cool with and the other guys will be like, ‘Yeah, Gareth, follow your heart’s intent and pick another instrument that calls out to you.’”

“That’s what you would say.” Steve points out just because he knows that Eddie’s that kind of person who says such long-winded compliments. He fills the pot with cold water from the sink, just barely remembering to throw in a pound of the meat bones to complete the broth.

“Okay, yeah, I said that.” Eddie rolls his eyes. Then he raises an index finger, pointing it up to the ceiling for no particular reason. “But I didn’t! I said none of that because Gareth said he wanted to change instruments today. The day before we will have our venue show!”

Steve drops his mouth open in a wide ‘O’ because he’s that invested in the secret drama of Eddie’s band. “He didn’t.”

“He did.” Eddie shakes his head mournfully. “You can imagine our reactions.”

Steve hums, opening the jar of pickles and plucking one out to pass it to Eddie. Eddie takes it and bites it without a second thought. There’s a couple pickles left in the jar since Steve had already blended the brine earlier so his boyfriend could finish them.

After a few chews and swallows, Eddie continues his tale of mutual devastation, still oblivious to Steve’s cooking. Good. Because this has been in Steve’s plans for weeks ever since he went to the farmer’s market and struck a lovely conversation with that Polish couple. He watches the boiling pot, making sure his attention is perfectly divided between the timer and Eddie’s story.

“-and then Jeff said, ‘How about I switch with the bass, Frankie does the second guitar, and you do the drums?’ I told him, ‘Don’t you remember my last time playing with the drums?’ Jeff just said, ‘Oh yeah, right.’ Then-”

Setting the stove’s temperature down to shimmer, Steve slowly pours in the blended pickle in the broth, mixing it together. He sees Eddie has finished his pickle so Steve passes him another.

This time, Eddie ferociously tears a chunk off, green acid spitting out as he speaks with a full mouth, “Eventually, it was Gareth who finally stood himself up and said, ‘Yeah, you’re totally right, I shouldn’t switch out before tomorrow’s gig. But I’m still doing bass after that's done.’”

“So who’s doing the drums?” Steve crosses his arms, leaning his hip on the counter besides Eddie.

“That’s the thing!” Eddie throws his hands up. Unfortunately, so does the half-eaten pickle. It hits the ceiling with a tiny splat. The two men stare up at it, Steve with genuine surprise and Eddie with horror. Before Eddie can splutter out apologies, Steve wordlessly kisses him and gives him the last pickle from the jar. Eddie carefully eats the whole thing with a bright-red face and eyes pointed downwards. Cute.

Steve double checks the soup. The lid’s so steamed over that he wouldn’t be surprised if it’s been stained completely white. He takes that cue to take it off and shut the stove for it to cool.

Eddie finally speaks, “Yeah, we have no idea who our drummer could be. Like, Gareth’s good but neither of us are. Frankie has good rhythm but he’s better with guitar. I can’t drum for shit. Same with Jeff.”

“Bet that’s a problem for Future Eddie and his friends.” Steve quips, slowly mixing the soup around.

Eddie barks out a laugh. He hops off the counter and stands behind Steve, peeking over at the pot. “This smells delicious by the way. What soup is it?”

Steve makes a shushing gesture to which Eddie responds by biting his shoulder. Steve rolls his eyes and contemplates if he should put in the half and half cream now. The Polish woman at the market had said it was better to wait for the soup to cool enough before adding the cream and parsley. He shrugs and just dumps it anyway.

He retrieves the bowls and scoops a good amount of the soup. “Careful, it’s still hot.” Steve warns as he passes it to Eddie’s eager hands. “And eat at the table this time.”

Eddie sticks a tongue out at him but does so. Steve watches with bated breath as Eddie carefully blows on his spoon before closing his mouth around it. He sees the exact second when Eddie’s eyes widen and his body going stock still. For a terrifying moment, Steve worries that he had messed up the recipe and Eddie was going to spit it out in disgust.

But within a blink of an eye, Eddie’s standing in front of him. Hands clenching tightly on his shoulders while his eyes start watering.

“Sweetheat,” Eddie says oh-so softly, “did you make soup from pickles… for me?”

Steve smiles at him sweetly and gently squeezes Eddie’s wrists. “Pickles are your favourite after all.”

Naturally, Eddie cries his eyes out with blabbering declarations of his unending love for Steve. Steve is more than happy to hold his boyfriends and return those favors.

#if anyone makes me pickle soup we shall have an autumn wedding #klaus writes #steddie #stranger things #steddielovemonth

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olderthannetfic · 2 months

Note

Getting this off my chest:

Back from a small fanfic hiatus, and I am absolutely flabbergasted by all of the fic authors now practically begging their readers to READ THE TAGS.

I’ve been seeing this warning written in summaries, in author’s notes, highlighted in all caps in the actual tags. I’ve read so many apologies written by authors in the comments in response to people chastising the author for writing what they wanted to write, for what they tagged correctly — for what essentially comes down to nothing more than having had other people actively ignore their tags or read despite them.

And there seems to be this bizarre, somehow largely accepted idea that it is the creators job and responsibility to beseech their readers to ‘use caution’ and to ‘stay safe’, to ‘be mindful of their health’��

I am beyond confused here.

Since when??? did exercising the most basic form of common sense and acknowledging one’s personal yeas and nays, likes and limitations, become some other random stranger’s burden rather than one’s own? And especially a random person who tagged their work correctly??? Does no one remember how to harness their own powers of discernment and self-regulation???

This little jaunt back onto ao3 has been unlike any that I’ve ever experienced before. What. Happened?????? Who is this new, apparently severely emotionally unstable and obstinately tags-reading resistant audience everyone has come to focus on?

It all feels so out of touch. The basic concept of ao3 is for the reader to seek out what they want, not what they don’t want. And to actually read. But there seems to have been an extremely strong shift away from reading. On ao3. A site built specifically for reading and writing. (And other fandom artistic pursuits, but not my focus, atm; though I’m sure whatever this is has crept steadily into all spaces there.)

Plummeting reading comprehension must be somewhat to blame; the popularity of fanfic amongst younger and wider audiences, as well. But… young people have always been there, as far as my own experiences go, and it was never like this. It’s as if too many readers don’t know how to make good or even practical decisions for themselves anymore, that they’ve lost the skill of choosing, and now believe that they must consume everything that passes before them; — that they have, for some reason, adopted the belief that any turmoil or dislike or discomfort felt within themselves is harm purposely being done to them by the author.

Idk. Idk, idk, idk. It’s just such a bummer to see how much nervousness and distress has entered the community. Authors notes and comments used to be hilarious fun, or a peek into someone else’s real-life world, used to be casual and full of personality, whereas nowadays, there seems to be an underlying hesitancy and distrust, a sort of growing divide between writers and readers, groups which, until recently, very much were not mutually exclusive.

Idiots have been around forever. The more you cater to them, the more entitled they get. It's best to shut that shit down fast and use no warnings that indicate a willingness to entertain stupid complaints.

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bxtchycaprisun · 9 months

Text

obstinate (4) | a. anderson

summary: you’re a new medic in the WLF base. you’re young, hardworking, and the thing that abby anderson hated the most, stubborn.

notes: fem!reader, medic!reader, protective!abby, soldier!abby, mentions of injuries, civil conversation (for once 😮), mutual pining, this might be my fav chapter i’ve written so far

taglist: @caitlinisfruity @shaemonyou @mattm1964 @vigelvictoria @liabadoobee @shady-lemur @sweet-lover-girl @sweet-cow-nectar @anxiouso @novadanversss @paleidiot @makepastanotwar13 @juneswonderlust @ratdungeon @elliesrealw1fe @feelsoseencantdream (striked text means i can’t tag u)

an: here it is folks, eat up

MDNI!!

abby’s head hung low as she was hauled to the infirmary.

the bullet that was currently lodged in her shoulder hurt like a bitch. there were beads of sweat adorning her forehead and collarbones, and her brows furrowed from the sharp sting in her arm. but that wasn’t what mattered at the moment. she could care less about the pain.

what she did care about was the fact that her patrol had almost been over, and she was going to enjoy her full day off tomorrow, when she was ambushed, and shot. she had spent the entire day blowing off some steam, and planned to get a well needed night of sleep before an important conversation tomorrow.

believe it or not, she was going to pay a visit to your doorstep that upcoming day. not to apologize, obviously, that wasn’t her style. instead to make a proposition.

but of course, the universe had other plans for her. instead, she felt herself slipping in and out of a pained consciousness as her fellow soldiers lifted her onto a stiff hospital bed.

a familiar hand brushed her face, a thumb pressed firmly against her cheekbone as another finger peeled her eyelid upward, shining a bright light into her pupil. as she squints up at the ceiling, eyes adjusting to the bright infirmary lights, she heard a small chuckle before her.

“christ, anderson,” you shake your head, quick fingers cutting away her t shirt with your fabric scissors. “you’re not looking too hot.”

abby groans, instantly recognizing your familiar voice and soft hands. of course it would be you to treat her. she must have some really damn bad karma.

“don’t-” she shakes her head weakly, voice small, “don’t even start.”

abby was fully conscious now, eyes blown wide and face red as you cleaned up the wound, prepping it for surgery. she watched you with shallow breathes, simply accepting your taunting. she knew she had it coming.

“what was that you said, yesterday?” you ask slowly, voice dripping with sarcasm, “you haven’t been hit on the field in over a year?”

“shut up,” abby says in a hiss, her face pinching as you sanitize the wound. her fingers grip the edge of the bed, knuckles whitening. you notice her pain, and mumble “m’sorry,” as you clean her up. as much as you wish you did, you really didn’t enjoy seeing her like this.

“don’t think.. don’t think this’ll mean i’ll change my mind ‘bout anything,” abby brings up a weak hand, pointing at you with narrowed eyes.

“course not,” you shake your head, biting back a smile. you couldn’t even be upset by her comment. you were stubborn, and so was she. the last thing you wanted to be was a hypocrite.

“listen um-” you bite the inside of your lip, “the bullets shattered.”

she hums frustratedly, “figures.”

“i’m gonna put you under general anesthesia,” you move swiftly, prepping her forearm for an IV as you call over mel to control her dosage.

“try not to kill me while i’m under, will ya?” she says with a frown, but her eyes crease as if she’s smiling.

you laugh quietly, glad to see she was the same old abby, even in her worst.

“another time,” was the last thing she heard before going under.

. . .

abby woke up with little feeling in her body. she didn’t know what time it was, but judging from the dimly lit halls of the infirmary, and quiet buzz of conversation just around then corner, she could tell it was night.

she sat up with a grunt, gripping her left shoulder and feeling around at the intricately wrapped bandages. her eyes travel around the room, landing on the small table beside her. she picked up an orange pill bottle, reading the label carefully.

it was vicodin.

her eyes widen a bit. either mel was feeling generous today, or you had gone out of your way to get her extra good opioids. she furrowed her brows at the thought of the latter.

her gaze lifts as she hears footsteps entering her mostly empty tent. you rub your eyes as you step into the room, and full glass of water in your hand.

you walk to her bedside, smiling tightly. “you’re awake.” you say softly. you place a hand on her uninjured shoulder, and push her back against the bed gently, ignoring her mumbling protests. “you shouldn’t be sitting up.”

you grab the bottle and open it, dumping a single pill onto your hand, whispering, “open”

she nods, accepting the pill you set on her tongue and taking a sip of the water. her voice is hoarse as she speaks. “i’ve been meaning to talk to you.”

you breath in sharply, “you’re talking.”

“no i mean..” she begins, but you cut her off.

“abby, you really should just rest.”

“i’m fine,” she insists, craning her neck forward as she goes to sit up again. you click your tongue, pushing her back down. “please?” she whispers.

you snap your mouth shut, eyeing her suspiciously. “you gonna apologize?”

she scoffs. “no.”

“alright,” you chuckle dryly, “then please just rest.”

“why would i apologize?” she snaps, titling her head. “you should thank me, y’know, for keeping you out of the serevena. i mean, if this is the state i’m in, i can’t imagine how you’d have ended up.”

you roll your eyes, scolding yourself for thinking she’d have been any different today. “thank you, abby” you whisper sarcastically, “for saving my ass, healing my shoulder, and caring for me as i recover.” you take a long pause for dramatic effect. “oh wait. that was me.”

abby opens her mouth to bite back, but looks down. “thank you.” she says quietly. “i did mean to say that sooner. thank you.”

you nod, smiling slightly. “just doin my job.”

abby can’t help it as she says, “you give vicodin to every patient as a part of said job?”

you clench your jaw, feeling exposed. “you’re a top soldier, abby.” you respond slowly, “of course you’re going to get the good stuff.”

she nods, a smile creeping on her lips at your obvious discomfort. “right.”

a familiar silence falls upon the room as you step back from the bed. she watches you with parted lips, looking as if her words are stuck in her throat. “i have.. i have a proposition for you.”

you nearly snort at her choice of words, and you look down at her with an amused smirk. “a proposition?”

she snickers weakly, “i know that sounds weird, but, i need you to hear me out.”

you nod, tensing up a bit at the seriousness of her voice. you didn’t want to begin guessing what this was about. “okay… i’m listening.”

“you want to be able to go on patrol, isn’t that right?” she begins slowly, her voice low.

you nod carefully, humming “that’s right.”

“but from what i’ve seen, i can tell you’re not ready for that, is that correct?”

you inhale with a frown. “that’s what you think, yes.”

she chuckles at your clever remark. “you heard what isaac told the both of us. if you don’t get an okay from me, you can’t patrol.” she says with a grin.

you feel your face growing a bit hot. “what’re you doing abby? you just saying that to rub it in? trust me, you made your point pretty clear when you practically tackled me.”

tackled wasn’t exactly the word you used for it in your head, but it was safer to say than the alternative.

when she pressed you against a wall. when she held you to the ground. when you could practically feel her lips against your neck as she whispered to you. yeah no. tackled it is.

“i’m not trying to prove a point,” she hums, sitting up a bit once again. when you open your mouth to order her to lay back, she hushes you with a hand in your face. “don’t.”

you purse your lips and step back, giving up as she leans forward, large hand on her knee. “you couldn’t fight me off last night.”

your eyes narrow. “no abby. i couldn’t.” you throw your hands up, and cross them over your chest. “but majority of scars aren’t built like y-you..” you gesture at her arms, but trail off, your internal monologue telling you to just stop talking.

“built like what?” her smile is now wide and beaming. her fingers clutch her knee, and you can see her muscles flex. real subtle abby.

“never mind,” you huff. “what i mean, abby, is that most of our enemies aren’t like you. they don’t have a fully equipped gym, high protein diet, or even a steady roof over their heads. just because i can’t handle you, doesn’t mean i can’t handle them.”

“can’t handle me, huh?” she smirks and you nearly boil over.

she didn’t know why she was doing this. she shouldn’t flirt with you right now. she needed to convince you, not fluster you. but seeing the red tint on your cheeks, she just couldn’t help it.

and for you, watching her lick her lips, toned stomach exposed as she sits in only a black sports bra, you became weak.

“stop that.” you say quickly, your lips pulled into a stern pout.

“stop what?” she cocks her head.

“you- you know what- just.” you groan. “just get to your point, anderson.”

“you only call me that when you’re trying to act mad at me.”

“i don’t need to act mad, i am mad.”

“sure you are,” she puts a pretend frown on, “so mad.”

“abby…” you say her name warningly. “i don’t know what you think you’re doing, but it’s not working. get to your point.”

her smile softens a bit, and she sighs, humming your name. “you really won’t ever let me try to get along with you, will you?”

her questions catches you off guard a bit. you sit down on the edge of her firm bed, tucking your hair behind your ear. “that’s a two way street, abby.”

“what do you mean by that?”

“i mean.. you don’t let me get along with you either.” you say with a small shrug, “i feel like every time we have a conversation, you always find something to get on me about. and we end up fighting.”

abby sighs. “well that’s because… you always give me a reason to be upset.”

“or… because you overreact about things.” you say simply.

normally, abby would argue further. but watching the way your expression remains calm as you speak makes her soft. you were trying, and maybe she could do the same.

“maybe i do.”

her sentence is short, and her voice is firm. a lot was said in just those few words. it was more than she’d ever been able to admit in the past.

you surprise yourself as you hear the next words leave your mouth. “and maybe i… was a little too hard on you when you talked to isaac. i… didn’t mean what i said in the cafeteria.. about.. you thinking your better then everyone else.”

“i don’t.. think that.” she shakes her head with a grin, “only that i’m better than you.” her voice is playful, and it makes you crack a smile in return.

you look away from her, taking a deep breath as you listened to the whir of the fans in the tent. you could feel her eyes on you, and it makes your face hot.

you were still angry at her. you still couldn’t give her the satisfaction of thinking she was let off the hook.

she may have been charming, and her voice may be smooth, and she may make you nervous. and it was hard to ignore the fight in your mind as you look at her face, struggling to decide whether to memorize every freckle on her skin or just stare at her lips.

but she jeopardized your role in the WLF. she humiliated you, and she underestimated you, and she made you so desperately miss the girl you had first met.

she was acting awfully like that girl right now.

she wasn’t yelling at you, she was smiling at you. it made your stomach hurt.

you take a deep breath, finally meeting her eyes. “you… had a proposition,” you begin, “what was it?”

a part of you prayed that she would say something that made you mad again. it was easier that way. she was so much easier to be mad at when she wasn’t staring at you like she never meant a thing she did.

abby smiles. “you want to go on patrols, you have to train with me.”

you inhale from your nose, shaking your head. “abby, no.”

she whispers your name, followed by a “yes.”

“i’ll help you learn to shoot. i’ll help you learn to fight. i’ll make sure you can protect yourself.”

you frown, lowering your head. you couldn’t do this. you couldn’t be around her like this. she made you crazy. she made you want something she couldn’t give you.

you practically scream in your mind, yelling to snap the hell out of it! the two of you are constantly bouncing from simple conversations to jumping for each others throats. if you wanted to keep your sanity, and your dignity, you needed to avoid.

“that’s not gonna happen, abby,” you shake your head.

she doesn’t look surprised, nor does she look disappointed. she was determined.

“you’re never gonna go on patrol if you don’t agree to this.” she states.

you exhale through your teeth, rolling your eyes. “you’re… impossible.”

she chuckles, leaning towards you. “i’m not,” she laughs, “it’s a simple request. then i’ll leave you alone forever. free reign on the field.”

“i don’t have time for that, abby,” you shake your head, “i work too much here in the infirmary. it’s not gonna happen.”

“that’s exactly why you need me,” her voice is almost pleading. “you’re going to go insane in here. how long have you been here, anyways?”

“what do you mean?”

“how long have you been working? you were here before i came in, and you’re still here.”

“i’m used to it.” you respond quickly.

“how long,” she pressed with a raised eyebrow.

you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose between your fingers. “it’s a 24 hour shift. i’m almost over.”

she watches you through her blond lashes, her eyes softening.

she had always been praised for her work in the WLF. she got so many special privileges, attention, and respect. her work was rewarded, and people looked up to her.

and then there as you.

worked to the bone. face sunken from lack of sleep, yet a smile still so beautiful. you never got the recognition you deserved. you never got the love you deserved.

but from the way she was looking at you alone, you felt more appreciated than ever before.

“you don’t deserve that,” her voice is soft and gentle.

you remain silent as you stare at each other.

“when’s the last time you left the base?”

“uh-” you pause for a moment, “since the patrol with you.”

she sighs, leaning back a bit as her tongue rolls on the inside of her cheek. “you’re gonna go crazy if you stay in here.”

“yeah,” you answer, “thanks to you.” you instantly frown at yourself. why was this all you knew? why couldn’t you be civil?

abby doesn’t flinch from your words, however, only smiles more.

“you need me.”

you instantly break eye contact as she says this, your cheeks warming up.

“i-,” you exhale quickly, “what- what does that mean?”

“i mean, you need me to help you. i promise you, if you just train with me for a little while, i’ll let you go on whatever patrol you want.”

you shake your head, looking down, but she presses on.

“please? i just- i need to see that.. that you’ll be okay out there.”

“i will be.” your voice is shaky, meeting her same level of desperation. “just let me go. you’ll see, abby, you’ll see.”

“i’m not going to take that kind of risk,” her voice is more stern, “not when you can prove that to me here, in the safety of the base.”

“i’m not doing that, abby, so you can just forget it,” you can’t hide the frustration in your voice.

“why are you so god damn stubborn?” she raises her voice and you widen your eyes.

“i’m a grown woman, abby,” your tone is low, “i don’t need your help. and i don’t need your approval, so you can just forget it. i’d rather stay here at the infirmary, and go crazy.”

abby’s jaw clenches, and she rolls her head back. “you- just let me.. please?”

“no, okay?” you stand up. “look… i’ve gotta get back to work.” you reach to grab your bag, preparing to leave.

abby’s voice is sharp, and almost mean as she calls out to you. “are you even happy?”

you look at her with raised eyebrows, completely dumbfounded. “what?”

“you heard me.”

you stare at her, mouth open slightly. all you did was work, struggle to fall asleep, and suppress your feelings. happiness wasn’t something on your mind. it didn’t seem achievable.

“that doesn’t even matter,” you turn around again, but her voice stops you. your back faces her as she speaks.

“you need me.” she says quietly.

you don’t turn around as you respond. “what.. what are we even talking about right now?”

your question was bold, but so was her statement. were you reading this wrong? her words made you feel so light headed.

“i think you know what i’m talking about,” she says, tone low and sultry. you swallow hard, trying to stop your body from shaking.

when you don’t respond, abby takes it as a rejection.

“i’m sorry- that was.. that was out of line- i just mean, i think getting out of this place will give you some peace of mind,” she sounds almost insecure, “you need it.”

you can’t risk turning back around, fear of her seeing your red face, or the way your legs squeeze together. why’d she have to take it back?

your response is slow and soft. “i’ll.. i’ll be fine, abby. you should rest.” and you leave her with that as you exit the room, not daring to breath until you were out of her eyesight.

. . .

to your ultimate despair, you didn’t see abby anderson for an entire week.

you didn’t return to her bedside until she was admitted. you didn’t see her in the cafeteria, even when you went during normal breakfast hours. you didn’t see her stop into the infirmary. you didn’t see her anywhere.

and you knew it was purposeful.

you had shut her down, turned her away. and she didn’t know how to accept it.

even when she tried to be nice, and understanding, and patient, you still wouldn’t agree to a thing.

she didn’t want to see you, or talk to you, or spy on you anymore. she knew if she did, she’d just start begging again. and she had to stop doing that.

so she did the only thing she knew how.

she avoided.

but for you, on the other hand. you didn’t even have the time to make sense of it.

with a weak total of 30 hours of sleep in the last week, and 3 consecutive 12 hour shifts the last few days, you were truly going out of your mind.

you were, once again, a walking corpse. you slept during the entire day in your dungeon of a room, and woke up in the night to slave away in the infirmary.

you rarely saw sunlight, rarely went outside for fresh air. you barely ate, or showered, or even spoke.

and ever since abby had asked you if you were happy, that’s all you craved. to feel happy.

you’re body ached with both the need of something different, and from the soreness of your neck.

you treated countless soldiers with minor injuries, beaming smiles on their faces as they cackles with their counterparts, sharing stories of their excitement out on the field.

your heart stang with jealousy.

one soldier mentioned how abby had found a way into an old record store, collecting dozens of practically untouched records and bringing them home to distribute based on who she knew liked the artists.

she kept the Siamese Dream album by The Smashing Pumpkins for herself.

that night you dreamed of listening to it with her.

you woke up at midnight, your shift only hours away. only this time, you didn’t plan on going to it.

your body was hot and your skin felt tingly as you emerged from the covers. your pajama shorts hung loosely by your hips, swallowed by the old t shirt on your shoulders. you ran your fingers through your hair, and let out a groan of frustration.

you wanted her. you needed her.

and you wanted out of this damn base.

one of those things, you knew a way to make happen.

you told yourself to turn around as your slippered feet padded down the halls of the base. you told yourself you decided that you wouldn’t do this. wouldn’t give in to her demands, and deal with your job in the infirmary.

but your head heart from your lack of vitamin d, and your joints ached from your lack of movement.

your frown was nearly cemented onto your face from your lack of abby.

abby.

which is why you shut down your doubt, and brought your shaking fist to her door, knocking gently.

she didn’t open at first, and you wait with a trembling figure, eyes wide and desperate. but eventually, you hear the lock click, and the door swings open.

“what do you-,” she begins as she scratches the back of her neck, but stops when she sees you before her, her hand dropping to her side.

she takes in your state. your hair is messy and wild. your eyes are glossy, and you smell like sleep and cinnamon. you part your puffy lips, and she feels weak in the knees as she watches you. she whispers your name, and you finally speak.

“i- i need you.”

#abby anderson #abby anderson x you #abby anderson x female reader #abby tlou #obstinate #abby anderson fic #abby anderson the last of us 2

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vodika-vibes · 3 months

Note

May I please get a Tech x Jedi!Reader with a glimpse before and after Order 66. Techs POV where after figuring out that the jedi are being hunted becomes worried. Im thinking White Clover and Pansy and maybe angst/fluff? :>

ps i love your work and i cant wait to read anything you make, youre amazing :3

A Promise Made

Summary: You and Tech, before Order 66 and after.

Pairing: TBB Tech x F!Reader

Word Count: 2983

Warning: Angst, Reader survived Order 66 and has totally understandable trauma regarding that

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

A/N: I'm still not sure if I'm writing Tech well, but I haven't got any complaints.

“Is there a reason you are laying on me?” Tech asks as he looks down at the Jedi sprawled across his lap, her gaze locked on the datapad in her hand.

“I don’t get to spend nearly enough time with you, and this is the best way to keep you from accidentally ignoring me.” She replies lightly, “Why? Are you uncomfortable?”

“No. I am just concerned that you might get hurt.” Tech answers easily.

“So be careful and you won’t hurt me.”

He rolls his eyes expressively, though because she’s not looking at him, she doesn’t notice. “What are you working on, cyare?”

“Master Windu asked me to reverse engineer a Seppie weapon, and I’m starting to think that this weapon was designed by an actual child.” She says with a sigh as she drops her datapad and presses her forehead against his thigh.

Tech smiles at the back of her head, “Would you like me to take a look?”

At that she laughs and rolls over so that her head is resting on his lap and she’s looking up at him, “I know you have better things to do, Tech.”

He sets his own project to the side, and gently brushes her hair out of her face, “I do not mind putting it aside to help you.”

She reaches up and presses her hands against his, lightly rubbing her cheek against his gloved hand. “That’s because you’re amazing.” She praises, “But it’s okay, Tech. I can figure it out. I always do.”

Tech smiles at her adoringly.

When he was a cadet on Kamino, he believed that this kind of happiness was beyond him. He did not understand why his brothers, including his batchmates, were so laser focused on finding someone to spend their time with. He thought that it was little more than a distraction.

That was until he met her.

She had been brought to Kamino at the request of General Ti, and the first time Tech saw her, he didn’t think she was a Jedi. He thought she was a natborn who had been tasked with maintenance of the various vehicles stored on Kamino.

She was clever and quick witted, and while his twin claimed that she wasn’t going to win any beauty pageants, on account of the fact that she tended to have oil on her face and staining her hands, and she didn’t seem to care about things like appearance, Tech thought that she was stunning.

They developed a quick friendship, bonding over their mutual love of technology.

Tech honestly had no idea that she was a Jedi at all, not until he saw her dressed up in Jedi robes rather than her normal grease covered jumpsuit, and talking to General Ti like it was her right.

The conversation that happened after that isn’t one that Tech is proud of. He had been hurt that she hid such an important part of her from him, and he lashed out. She was offended that he thought that she was hiding it, claiming that she never hid anything from anyone, and that it wasn’t her fault that he didn’t know that she was a jedi.

The disagreement turned into a full blown argument, and Tech didn’t talk to her for over two months. It took Hunter and Crosshair teaming up to make him see that he was being bull-headed and stubborn, and it was the encouragement of Wrecker that forced him to go to her and apologize.

At the time, he had been worried that she was going to hold a grudge, but she didn’t. Instead she just smiled and laughed, and told him that she forgave him, and then she showed him what she was working on.

Soon after that, Tech realized that he was thinking about her all the time. When he was in training, when he was reading, even when he was about to go to sleep; her smile, the way her eyes crinkle when she laughs, the way she pushes her hand through her hair when she’s contemplating something complicated-

He found himself looking forward to spending time with her, even if they’re just working in the same room.

It was Crosshair who pointed out the obvious, with a roll of his eyes as he flipped through a magazine. “You’re obviously in love with her, dumbass.” He drawled without looking up from the glossy pages of the blaster magazine that he got from somewhere, “It’s a perfect match, you’re both annoying little shits.”

Tech wanted to argue with him, partly because he feels the urge to argue with his twin about everything, but he found the words turning to ash on his tongue. Because, annoyingly, he was right.

Tech was in love.

He became awkward and nervous around her, babbling about random things that he learned, and through it all, she watched him with a small smile, and often asked questions about his latest hyperfixation.

And then, late one night, she kissed him.

A gentle press of her lips against his. It was innocent and chaste, and yet it sent fire through his veins. She didn’t say anything after the kiss, she just watched him and waited, seeming to understand that Tech would need a moment to process.

And then he kissed her, and suddenly he understood exactly why his brothers desire this so much.

“Tech?” He snaps back to the present at the worried call of his name, and he glances down at her face, “There you are. You were lightyears away.” She teases.

“I was thinking about you.”

“Oh? Nice things, I hope.”

He laughs, “I always think about you, cyare. You occupy my thoughts at all times.”

“Well, that sounds annoying.”

“Not at all,” Tech lightly guides her until she’s sitting up and he presses a series of light kisses to her cheek and across her jaw, “I find that it is the most enjoyable part of my day.”

“Well, you’re easy to please, aren’t you?” She teases as she leans into his affection.

“My brothers tell me that I am very hard to please, actually.”

“Well, they’re not me.” She turns her head and kisses him quickly, “So you know, you’re constantly in my thoughts too.”

Tech laughs softly and presses a series of light kisses across her face, “I am glad.”

She grins at him, and shifts to sit on his lap, her hands coming up to cup his face, “Tech, I…” She pauses, and her gaze flickers to the side, “I want you to know that I have to return to Coruscant for a couple of weeks. I would like it if you commed me?”

Tech has a feeling that that’s not what she was going to say, but he lets it go, “Of course I will. So much that you will get tired of me.”

She laughs, “I don’t think that’s possible.”

“You never know,” Tech kisses her one more time, “When do you leave?”

“Two days.”

“Well then, we had better spend that time together.”

It has been three weeks and four days since the day that the Clones turned on the Jedi. And somehow, you’re still alive. Which, in and of itself, is a damned miracle.

You press your hand over your side, a slow hiss of pain escaping your lips as you move the wrong way and the hole in your side twinges painfully.

When the clones marched on the workshop, you had been in the back, working on one of the protocol droids. You managed to escape while the older jedi tried to fend off the soldiers, but you still took a blaster bolt to the side.

Not to mention, you’re still reeling from the loss of your friends, your family.

You push the pain into the force, and take a moment to tighten the bandages around your side, before you continue your trek. It’s not safe for you anywhere.

And as much as you want to comm Tech and beg him to come and help you…you know that you better not. Tech is a clone after all. And if he pulled a blaster on you, you’d probably just let him kill you, honestly.

No. It’s safer this way.

Though, the galaxy is a much lonelier place now.

Time passes quickly, when you’re on the run. And before you know it, 6 months have passed.

You’re…surviving as best you can, all things considered. You managed to find a medic who treated your blaster wound in exchange for some simple maintenance work, and you managed to earn employment on a cargo ship.

Though, really, you mostly just bounce from ship to ship, from planet to planet, as much as you can. You don’t stay in the same place for longer than a few weeks, fearing that the empire will find you.

You take comfort from the memory of your family, and from Tech. You cling to those memories, as they’re the only thing that keep you going. And sometimes, at night, you allow your mind to linger on Tech, on what could have been.

It’s easier now, though.

After six months, you no longer feel like the Empire is breathing down your neck, and for all you know, you’ve been reported dead. You don’t dare to look, fearing that if you look and you weren’t, then the Empire will start looking for you.

It doesn’t make any sense, you know that, but it’s an anxiety that you can’t seem to shake.

“Hey, Kid!” You jump as the ship captain, your current employer, claps your shoulder with a heavy hand, “Me an’ the boys are going to the bar. Wanna join us?”

“Ah…no thank you. Trying to stay sober,” You say with an easy smile, “You guys have fun.”

“Right, sorry kid. I forgot. You keep up that sobrarity! We’re rooting for you.”

You smile at him, feeling momentarily guilty. Your story, the one that you’ve been using since the purge, is that you’re a recovering alcoholic, and that’s why you want to work on ships, to avoid temptation.

It’s not true. But it keeps people from hounding you to go drinking with them. And, more than one of the people you’ve worked with over the past few months have bemoaned your “parents” for not helping you with your addictions.

It’s almost like having a family again.

Almost.

You step off the cramped ship into the cool evening air, wanting to stretch your legs for a bit, when you hear a familiar voice and feel a familiar presence in the force.

“Hey, that person might know!” You’d recognize Wrecker’s force presence even if you were doped up on force suppressors, and the child standing next to him has the same overall feel as all of the chones.

Your blood runs cold. Wrecker will recognize you. How could he not?

He approaches you, and your mind goes blank. Your fingers twitch towards your lightsaber, hidden in your sleeve. You don’t want to hurt Wrecker. But you will if you have to.

“Excuse me, miss?” The child stops in front of you, and you look down at her. Blonde hair, wide brown eyes…she’s a clone, no doubt about it. “Me and my brother are looking for a specific shop-”

“I…I’m sorry, I’ve never been here before.” You keep your voice low, in the hopes that Wrecker won’t hear you. But you know there’s not a chance of it, not with how close he is to you.

Surprise flashes across his face, followed by joy, “It’s you! Tech has been worried sick! We all have-” He takes a step towards you, and you scramble backwards, grabbing your saber and lighting it with the comforting snap.

“Stop! Just…just stop.” You sputter, “I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if I have to.”

Wrecker stops, “Right. Okay.” He pulls Omega back, “No one’s going to hurt you.”

“Sure.”

Wrecker slowly sends a message to his brothers, and then holds his hands out, showing that he’s unarmed.

Tech, Hunter, and Echo run up only moments later, and Hunter has to grab Tech from running over to you.

“It is just us, cyare.” Tech says, pulling himself away from Hunter, “We are not going to hurt you.”

Your lightsaber is crossed across your body defensively, and slowly you reach out to the force, looking for the, arguably, most dangerous member of the CF99 at the moment. “Where’s Crosshair?” You ask.

“He is…not here.” Tech says quietly.

“You expect me to believe that your own twin isn’t here, I’m not that dumb, Tech.”

“He…” Tech falters, “Listen, his chip activated, ours didn’t. So when we defected, he didn’t.”

“What chips? What are you talking about?” You demand, and their faces fall.

“You…don’t know.” Hunter says quietly, “Stars, you must have thought we turned on you for no reason-”

“It would be nice to know what crime my people committed to deserve to be slaughtered down to the smallest baby, yes.” You bite out.

“It wasn’t…there…” Echo trails off and he takes a deep breath, “Tech, you need to talk to her. Just, tell her the truth. All of it. She’s a jedi, she’ll know if you’re lying.”

Tech nods, and he steps in front of his brothers, his gaze locked on you, “I am going to tell you everything that I know,” He says quietly, and then he starts talking.

And slowly, as he explains, you lower your saber and then turn it off. And by the time Tech finishes his story, you’re sitting on a small crate with your face in your hands. “My people were slaughtered by your brothers because Palpatine stole their free will from them?”

“Yes.”

Both of your hands fist in your hair, “...’m sorry for drawing my saber on you.”

Tension drains from the men standing across from you, and the next thing you know, Tech’s hands are on your shoulders, “It is okay. You had every right to be concerned.” He kneels in front of you, “Are you injured?”

“I was shot at the temple, but that was months ago.” You say quietly.

“And…you are alright?”

“No.” You whisper, “It’s a very lonely galaxy, Tech.”

Tech raises himself enough to press a kiss to your forehead, “You do not have to be alone. You can travel with us. Right, Hunter?”

“Of course.” Hunter replies immediately.

“See.”

“That’s kind of you, but I know your ship isn’t that big.”

“With the both of us, we can retrofit.” Tech offers, “We can make room for all of us.” He takes your hands in his, “Please do not leave.”

“You won’t be safe if I travel with you. I’m a Jedi.”

“We are not safe anyway.” Tech points out, “Please, cyare? I promise that we will be safer together.”

You sigh, and very gently squeeze his hands, “Yeah, okay. The crew that I’m a part of now won’t be surprised if I decide to leave without warning.”

“Truely?”

“I have something of a reputation.” You reply dryly.

“...it has been 6 months.” You shrug, and allow Tech to tug you to your feet, before he wraps you in a tight hug. “I feared you were dead.”

“I’m sorry.”

Tech’s gaze lingers on her as she dozes in his bunk, his fingers are tangled in her hair as he silently offers her comfort.

She doesn’t look healthy.

She’s too thin, her clothes hang off of her, and the circles under her eyes are dark enough that it looks like she has bruises around her eyes. She hasn’t been eating properly, obviously, and Tech wonders if it’s because of grief or fear.

And there’s no way he’s ever going to forget the look in her eyes when she saw them again. Dread, fear, terror-

He never wanted her to look at him like that again.

Tech smooths his hand down her spine, and carefully adjusts the blanket so it’s tucked under her chin.

He knew the moment that the regs turned on General Billaba, that his cyare was in danger. The dread had been like a lead weight in his stomach. And while he would have spoken to Crosshair about it, he could tell that there was something wrong with his twin.

Not to mention, Crosshair had never been her biggest fan in the first place.

So he bit his tongue, and kept an eye on the list of deceased Jedi, and he hoped.

It wasn’t very logical.

But the longer he didn’t see her name, the longer he had hope that she was still alive.

She shifts in his bed, rolling over to press her face against his thigh, and Tech presses his hand against the back of her head. The Marauder really isn’t big enough to add another adult, so she’s going to have to share with him for the time being.

Which isn’t half as much of a problem as he’s making it out to be, nothing would make him happier than waking up with her in his arms, but the last thing he wants is for her to forget where she is and freak out.

Luckily, the dread he felt when he heard about the jedi being hunted has faded into something much easier to handle, now he just has the sinking dread of having to help her deal with the trauma of surviving a massacre.

Easy.

Tech glances down at his datapad, and settles back against his pillow as he starts to read on how to help people process trauma.

If he can’t get his cyare to a mind healer, then he’ll just have to become one himself.

Tech glances at her one more time as her fingers curl in the soft material of his pajama bottoms, and he smiles at her sleeping face. He gently brushes some hair out of her face, “I promise,” He whispers, “I am going to take care of you.”

#star wars #tbb #vodika-vibes follower celebration #tbb tech x reader #tech x reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #f!reader fic #answered asks

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fanaticsnail · 3 months

Text

Sapsorrow Chapter 6

Masterlist here, Series Masterlist here

Word Count: 7,353

The Storyteller - Sapsorrow"Whom so ever fits the ring becomes wed to the warlord who owns it"Themes: enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, forced proximity, lord and subordinate, one bed trope, apprehension, mutual pining, obligation, slow burn, eventual love, protective, "where is my wife" trope.

(Image Source)

Tag List: @sordidmusings @writingmysanity @gingernut1314 @since-im-already-here @feral-artistry @be-good-please @little-bunnybabe @sukilovesyou @buggyenjoyer @thesailus @under-kitty @acehyacinth @andriannag @one17 @canthebest1 @khaleesihavilliard @quirkyrascal @hungrhay @sentieence @lebanese-afg-ya @captaincupio @szired @sexc-snail @alphaash99 Thank you to @i-am-vita for her banner!

Song Accompaniments: Crumbling Dreams - Milo the Otter!, Moon Dance - Danny Elfman

Reopening the large double doors to the large ballroom, Mihawk ushered you through the threshold with his guiding hand placed on the small of your back. He allowed himself the luxury of closing his eyes and taking a moment to compose himself as your perfume danced past him upon entering the room. Stepping behind you and reopening his eyes, his yellow hue was met with the intense purple gaze of the giant, reptilian man darkening your radiancy with his intimidating aura.

“My lady,” Sir Crocodile addressed you at his side, “If I may be granted the luxury of taking your arm a moment. I have decided to rescind my invitation for your beau to view the creation I have crafted and allow it to be a moment for you to take with your eyes only.” You cocked your head to the side, turning your chin towards the lord of Kuraigana at your side, but continuing to hold firm your gaze onto the large man in front of you.

“I hope you are not suggesting I am to enter a room alone with you, unchaperoned, Sir Crocodile?” you quipped, your left brow arching and lips pursing at the suggestion. Sir Crocodile allowed the rumble of his chest to exhale his sour cigar through huffs of laughter.

“Of course not, my lady,” he uttered once his laughter stifled. Mihawk bore his golden gaze into the smirking face of the dangerous reptilian man, baring his own intimidation onto his towering body, “There will be three others with me, one of whom I likely deem the most competent out of the bunch. I take it you know the Red-Hair Pirates a little more than you do the blue-haired clown?”

You sighed, nodding your head in confirmation before turning back around to face your intended. He was less than impressed at the notion you were to be spirited away by the three men he tasked with aiding him with his impossible tasks, with the potential notion of viewing you in a variety of states of undress. It was written all over his face: jaw clenched, eyes narrowed and brow angled down to depict his displeasure at the suggestion. As he was about to speak up, another presence with a familiar scent of dried tobacco leaves and gunpowder arrived at his side.

“Don’t you worry yourself, Hawk-Eyes,” Beckman hushed his rumbled drawl against his shoulder, “If anything goes awry: I’ll shoot first, and apologize later for ruinin’ your marble walls.” Mihawk snapped his gaze over to the silver-haired first-mate of the red-hair pirates, continuing to hold firm his scowl and hissing in a firm breath through his nose as he eyed him.

“I take it you’re the competent member of this coup to pry my bride from my arms and away from our engagement soiree,” Mihawk snarled, his brow deeply furrowing in the center of his forehead. Beckman smirked, his lips ticking up at the corner of his mouth.

“Would you prefer to place the safety of your bride in the rat, the reptile, or the idiot?” Beckman shrugged his shoulders up in question. A crackly, sharp “Hey!” growled from behind the crocodilian man, followed by the chuckle of the red-headed captain you have come to enjoy. Mihawk tilted his neck sharply to the side, a short ‘click’ elicited from his spine as he processed the words.

Mihawk unwove his arm from your back before claiming your right hand within his left, turning you to face him in an intricate and elaborate twirl. Stepping sidewards, he withdrew you from the towering and unwanted company without excusing himself and halted your movements. Gazing deeply and lovingly into your eyes, he drew your right hand up and placed a kiss atop the back of your knuckles. Your breath hitched in your throat, floating your gaze between focusing on each of his eyes as he broke the deep kiss against your hand.

A thousand questions flew between the two of you internally. From you, mainly, was how long had he felt this way for you. Surely not for only the month you had stayed at castle Kuraigana, but a lord should not be turning his head to a governess at decorative galas. For Mihawk, he was questioning how deeply he trusted the four to be alone with someone so dear to his heart… Or how much trust you placed in Beckman in your interactions prior.

Through the unspoken discussion, you fought an unwinnable battle internally. You chose to disregard your formal training and allow a moment of softness to overtake your stoic form. Reaching upwards, you placed your left hand on Mihawk’s cheek and shepherded him into yourself, placing your lips gently against his left cheek as you cradled him against your palm. He sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth and froze his shoulders in place.

His eyes snapped up, meeting first with the brown hue of Red-Haired Shanks’ eyes, who shot him a playful wink as soon as he witnessed the small gift of affection.

“I will not be away from your side if you are uncomfortable with this, beloved,” Mihawk uttered in a voice little above a whisper. You smiled against his cheek, withdrawing your lips from him and looking up at him through your eyelashes. He quickly drew his honeyed eyes back to meet with yours, softening as soon as he met your affectionate gaze.

“These are the gentlemen you trusted enough to complete this task,” you whispered under your breath, a smile dancing at the corners of your mouth, “And I trust Beckman to handle it should it become too much for me.”

“As do I,” Mihawk confirmed, leaning down towards you. He drew his hand up to your face, hovering it over your hair with a small apprehensive quake to his movements; invisible should one be not looking for it, “I would not see a single hair atop your head harmed.” He brushed your cheek with his fingertips gently as his hand found itself cupping your shoulder.

“There was a time I did not see eye to eye with these men,” he uttered his warning sternly, ensuring you held firm to each word he relayed to you. Allowing a small giggle to fall from your parted lips, eyes upturning in a taunting glee, you allowed your eyes to fall to rest on his mustache-topped lip.

“My lord,” you uttered darkly, drawing your eyes up to meet slowly with his once more, “You are behaving as if you forget the true reason you invited me here in the first place.” Stepping your body closer to his had him drop his hand and draw themselves to your hips once more, head head angling down to meet with your approaching lips to whisper in his ear.

“I handle the most undisciplined of pupils,” you sighed against his ear, Mihawk closing his eyes to resist the shudder of joy at your breath dancing against his lobe, “Getting them to behave,” you watched his shoulders finally give into the shudder, prompting your lips to curl up into a sly grin, “Is one of my strengths.”

You withdrew from his proximity, allowing your half-hooded eyes to meet his through your eyelashes. Mihawk was holding his composure to his regular stoic rigidity, but his slightly blown pupils held a different prose. He lightly ticked his lip up to the side, allowing a softness to rise within his eyes as he gazed at you. Although neither of you confessed to harboring deep affection on the balcony moments prior, you could tangibly feel how far Mihawk truly held fondness for you.

“Perhaps we should draw this evening to a close,” Mihawk suggested, glancing past you and around the room, “It would seem the preferable option, considering it could look to others that you are abandoning me to flee into the night with four men you met moments prior.” Both Mihawk and you allowed a small laugh to fall between you at the notion. He retracted his hands from your waist and elevated his right hand in a gesture to the orchestral arrangement to halt their performance.

“Honored guests,” Mihawk spoke up, his voice alerting the surrounding participants to halt their conversations and turn to face him, “My bride and I have been delighted at your attendance here this night.” Mihawk turned, interlacing your right arm within his left and presented you both to the crowd gathering.

“I trust you can all find your own way from the halls to take your leave,” Mihawk nodded to the great doors, aligned with rows of candelabras dancing and illuminating the castle’s exit’s. He smirked at the corner of his lips before adding, “Should you desire aid in your exit, I would sooner ask Perona to navigate you than Zoro. He has a knack for getting lost within the walls.” A small grumbled groan was almost audible to the side of the room, no doubt in your mind it was thrust from the lips of your green-haired gentleman in training.

“We will be looking forward to accepting your responses regarding your future attendance at our upcoming wedding,” You curtseyed to the crowd, bowing your head respectfully; a gesture which was returned with equal enthusiasm by your prior students in attendance with their chaperones, “It has been a delight to make your acquaintance, and to see you all again.” You danced your eyes over your students, them all returning your smile with vigor.

The guests began to file out of the open doors of castle Kuraigana, the large reptilian man once again extending his elbow in a gesture for you to take it. Paying one more glance to the side at your intended and meeting his eyes a final time, you unlaced your hand from within the crook of his elbow and interwove it within the arm of Sir Crocodile.

“He doesn’t love you.”

Your brows furrowed, looking straight ahead and not sure where the doubts were coming from. Shaking your head to rid your mind of the thoughts, you engaged Sir Crocodile, Buggy and Shanks in polite conversation as they ushered you throughout the halls; the protective presence of Benn Beckman behind you aiding you in feeling safe with the two strangers alongside the red-haired rat.

Perona watched your retreat with great interest; her wide eyes narrowed as she witnessed the exit with the four men. Zoro smirked, his brow arched up as he playfully gave his commentary on the situation.

“What is it?” He smirked down, hovering over her shoulder, “Don’t like the thought of our Governess being without the great lord to protect her from the three burly men and that stupid clown?” Perona’s lips were tight in a firm line, her focus on the back of your head. She began to hover in the air, slowly finding her body drawing itself closer to your own, staring off into the distance.

“I just thought I saw-...” Perona began, cocking her head sharply to the side and holding firm her gaze, “Something watching.”

—----------------

Beautiful.

Everything was simply beautiful. The layers of satins, silks, chiffon, ivory, embroidered golds and silvers. The two dresses were everything your greatest fantasies could have ever dreamed up, and then exceeded the expectations tenfold. Each gentleman presented their designs to you; Sir Crocodile’s first. The hue alone was enough to make your eyes gloss over and a sigh pulled from your lungs at its mastery. Buggy the Clown’s presentation had the gloss begin to prick at the corners of your eyes and trail their diamond lines down your cheeks.

But Shanks. Shanks. Shanks’ contribution had the change of pace from dreaminess to a bashfulness you had not experienced in some time. Excusing yourself from the other two men after bowing respectfully to the hulking Sir Crocodile, and encumbering the clown in and embrace for their efforts, you were chaperoned into a small room with both Beckman and Shanks to accompany you.

“Now, love,” he began, prompting your eyes to fall forward and dance over the mannequin’s bodice, “This is the concept only. I’m still working on the finer details, and I won’t leave the port of Kuraigana before it finally comes to me,” he took your shoulder beneath his palm and ushered you over to the bodice, the curtain draping behind you to shield the three of you from the other two gentlemen. Beckman continued to hold his eyes firmly against the sealed crack in the velvet curtains to ensure no prying eyes view the lingerie Shanks had made for you.

“See, this is where it goes over your breasts,” he gestured to the torso of the onyx bodice of the mannequin, releasing your shoulder from beneath his palm and tugging at several robes of gold hanging limply, “And these tie everything in place. The symbolism behind it is you, yourself, are the sun. The gold is what encases you beneath it, the rays,” he released the golden rope and adjusted the sheer robe over the shoulders, “The rays are bound by each of the knots tying it together.”

“How would you ever expect me to remember how to assemble the knots and the strings myself?” you furrowed your brows, attempting to see the vision Shanks had for the outfit. Shanks chuckled, clasping the back of his neck as he winced a little in anticipation of your reaction.

“Well, Exterminator,” he laughed at you, prompting you to arch your brow and seek him out in the corner of your eye, “Some assembly is required by another person. I’d never do anything you, yourself, are not comfortable with, but,” He drew himself in front of you, “If you’d prefer it just me, I can use my right hand and my teeth to bind you within it.” Your eyes widened at the suggestion.

“I do not desire your sharpened rat-teeth near me, Shanks,” you reprimanded him, your brow decreasing and resting in a straight and serious line. Shanks winced a little at your elevated words, but nodded to your boundary.

“Would you prefer it if Beckman did the knot tying?” The usually stoic man had his ears pricked up at his name, still holding his eyes firmly against the line of the curtain but listening more intently to the conversation behind him, “What say you, Becks? You keen on doing some knot tying for our most precious and beloved exterminator on her big day?” Beckman sighs, shaking his head and takes a few moments to answer that very pointed and heavy question.

The first moment you met him, he found you effortlessly managing the crew of Red-Haired pirates from their lustful advances on a menagerie of young ladies in silks and satins. This piqued his interests, him desiring to learn more about the protective exterminator and her role in shepherding the youthful gentlemen and women in society.

After many years of running into you from port to port, he treated you with the utmost respect and found himself hanging onto your every command as a loyal knight taking instructions from his queen. From then on, you were the friend he confided in and trusted to handle the troop easily when ushering you throughout the seas on the red-force. Of all aboard, you trusted Beckman the most to treat you well.

“If you would prefer me to complete this task for you, teeth free,” he smirked, placing a cigarette between his lips and igniting the tip with a lighter, “Wouldn’t wanna do nothin’ you’re uncomfortable with, my lady. This would be a rather intimate experience, and I wouldn’t dream of putin’ ya in a position you’d not deem appropriate.”

Your breath hitched in your throat, truly now realizing what task you placed on your intended when you initially requested the former warlord to complete.

“I require a dress that meets the intensity of the sun with its rays of gold and copper. An accumulation of material so outrageously forbidden, it be intended for your eyes alone with its intended purpose. A dress so scantily designed, that you will find none to ever match its equal in both color and provocative appearance.”

Your heart panged with guilt, eyes wide but frown depending as you relayed your own words within your mind. Before your words had enough time to gather more thoughts behind their intentions, you found yourself murmuring below your breath; Beckman responding in a similar tone to your question.

“Could you do it blindfolded?”

“I will do my best, my lady.”

“You better get to planning your wedding, love,” Shanks called up from behind you, prompting you to turn back around to face him, “I think I’ll have it for you sooner than you might think.”

—----------------------

Tucked beneath the duvet after ridding yourself of your gown and scrubbing the night off your skin, you reminisced the words Shanks spoke over you. You shook your head, laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation you had found for yourself. A small shriek allowed itself to exit from your lips as you hid your face beneath the covers; yourself devolving to a teenager encumbered by their own stupidity circulating within their minds.

“It won’t be enough. It will never be enough.”

Your ears pricked up at the voice, prompting you to throw the covers of your bed from your face and seek out its source. Slowly scanning the room, you found no such presence within the corners of your wing. The bothersome thoughts circulating within your mind seemed to have a physical presence; a presence that continued to watch over you as an executor would watch a prisoner place their head within the circle of a guillotine.

Laying back down against your plush mattress, you began to be eclipsed by invasive and tiresome thoughts so tangible that your body felt more tired upon reawakening than it did attempting its slumber. Once again, no birds serenaded the morn due to its distance between breaking the daylight against the purple hue of cool nightfall.

Sucking in a breath from your nose, you flung the covers back with your exhale and began to aggressively tug trousers and a blouse onto your body, alongside your socks and boots. Perhaps pushing yourself further to exhaustion may coerce your body to allow slumber to claim you.

Attempting to furiously walk in silence was no easy feat. The desire to allow the remaining members of the household to enjoy their restfulness overcame your own need to behave erratically and childish in the moment, but you were looking forward to enjoying stomping to your heart's content to satisfy your inner angry teenager once walking among the grounds.

After opening the cold, wooden door to the castle; you silently crossed the threshold and clicked the latch behind you as softly as you could muster with the iron-barred door’s affinity for squeaks and clanks. You turned and hastily embarked on your descent down the stairs and onto the footpath leading towards the vast grapevines throughout the castle grounds. The pebbles kicked up with dust beneath your heels, scuffing your shoes as you picked up your brief sprint to the winding and heavily fruited vines.

Upon reaching the first row, your steps halted their motion as your mind began to process exactly what was happening before your eyes. Your fingertips began to shake at your hips, your jaw slackened and eyes wide.

Dracule Mihawk, lord of castle Kuraigana and lands surrounding, former warlord of the seas, current world’s greatest swordsman, your betrothed and intended husband, was gardening. Hands holding firm to the base of a mattock and humming under his breath, he slammed down the iron tip to pry the earth of its rest. His brown trousers were stained with the waxy coat of the ground, cementing itself against his calves and leather boots.

His shirt was hanging on a post beside a small, dirty triangle of cloth and a round, large brimmed straw hat, leaving his entire chest and back exposed to the sunlight as it began to share the radiance of the dawn. Beside the hat lay an intricately designed bouquet tied with twine and lace and laying carefully within the circle of the upturned hat.

A grunt fell from his lips per impact of the earth, halting his hum as his body continued upheaving the ground to a point he deemed far enough to stop digging. His forearms and biceps shook upon impact, his pectorals and abdomen compressing upon retracting the object from its place embedded in the earth. As he turned away from the hole he dug, he rubbed his forearm against his brow to rid it of the sweat and grime.

He sighed as he began retrieving a small vine with bare roots and placed it within the hole, kicking the dirt beneath his boot heel to place the earth securely around it, and stomping to resolidify the ground. Straw hat, ruffled pale shirt, covered in mud, gardening, flowers in a bouquet.

It all began to swirl within your mind, watching as he sighed once more before placing the pale shirt over his head. He secured the face shield over the lower half of his face and began spraying the hole he had just covered with rain water. The earth began to splash up under the pressure of the nozzle of the hose, dampening his pale shirt and caking the top half of his body with sticks, mud and hay from the compost. More water began to splash up into his face, him shaking his head and grumbling below his breath, verbally reprimanding himself.

“Never messy in combat, never messy in gardening,” Mihawk yelled at himself in a hushed tone, “But you slip below the vines one time and now you’re this-this-...” He sighed again, raking his fingers through his exposed locks a final time before shaking his head, “This Farm-Hand. The creature from the earth created to serve as friend and confidant to your beloved. Why must she make me so-... so-...” He growled, intentionally now splashing his body with water, raindrops falling like glass from each curl attached to his radiant head.

Hastily, you stepped as quietly as you could away from the scene in front of you, hearing the vocal chastations echo with each angry grumble exiting from his mouth. You placed your back against a nearby oak tree and took a moment to process internally what you had seen and heard. Clapping both hands over your mouth, you began to teeter into a giggle.

The lord of Kuraigana, your betrothed and beloved, had intentionally been attempting to woo you all this time with flowers each day for a month. The first time you had caught him was when you were wandering the halls in your nightdress, apparently the first time he had ever fallen amongst the sludge while gardening: covering his body from head to toe in an amassment of the earthly elements.

You risked a peek at him, witnessing as he shook his head further; now completely under the disguise as your friend: the Farm-Hand. Fur, feather, straw, clay, mud, sticks and stone cover all apart from his honeyed eyes and his straw hat. He has assembled his beastly persona, a caricature of the man you had come to adore through your time spent with him.

A portion of you wanted to continue this torturous facade for him, not one to enjoy trickery or deceit and wishing to punish him in some way for his lies. Although immediately after that single thought, you smiled for your sweet Farm-Hand, adoring the extent he was willing to go to enjoy speaking with you with no filter apart from the muck and slop he adorned on his body. After toying with the notion within your mind, you decided on behaving in the former: not wishing to allow him the upper hand in this next interaction.

“Farm-Hand?” You called to him, weaving your body from behind the tree and exposing yourself under the first light of the dawn, “Farm-Hand, is that you here so early?” You watched as he began to scramble, at first attempting to askew the floral arrangement behind his back from view before holding it at heart-level.

“Lost-Lady,” his voice called to you, disguising what you thought to be a small stumble in his footing as he began to clamber towards you from his prior position gardening. His boots met with the sludge, sliding the earth from beneath his footstep and successfully dropping him down to his knees. You sucked your lips into your mouth, witnessing a man full of dignity and grace be brought down to his knees while cradling flowers against his chest.

“Sir, are you alright?” you asked, beginning your hasty descent towards him and almost losing footing yourself.

“I would not be so hasty-!” Mihawk called at a moment too slow, watching as you lost your own footing beneath the sludge of his own making and being dropped to a low crouch; managing to collect yourself at the last moment. “My lady, are you alright? Are you hurt?”

“I am uninjured, my darling,” you reassured him with a small chuckle, bringing your eyes up to meet with his shielded face, “It is you I am more concerned. Do you tumble often? Must be very poor on the knees.” You silently hoped he both would and wouldn’t catch onto your vocal slip up, darting your eyes between his to check over his reaction to the name.

“I try not to lose my footing often, my lady,” he confessed, reaching out his unoccupied left hand to you to ensure you were steady enough in your crouched position, by offering you additional aid should you need it, “Contrary to what you might think, I am actually rather competent at gardening.” You smiled, rising to your feet and collecting his left hand within your right to support him in his rise.

“I believe the world of your abilities, sir. Now, allow me to aid in your rise to your feet once more,” you smiled down at him, his eyes meeting your own with an almost overwhelming amount of adoration. You hoisted him up to his feet, uncaring at the passing of grime onto your clothes from his.

You began to walk in silence, the destination of the castle steps once more in sight for Farm-Hand. You noticed his shoulders slouching and the weight of a mental burden begin overencomber him beneath the waves of thought. You furrowed your brows at his posture, unsure as to how to address such an issue.

“Is there something the matter, Farm-Hand?” you asked him, slowing your step beside him to check him over.

“All is well, Lost-Lady,” he uttered in a half-hearted manner. You purse your lips, a frown finding its home against the center of your brow as you looked him over once more. You decided against continuing this little facade further, and halted your steps all together as you both stood at the entrance of the doorway. Sighing out a huff of agitation, you shook your head before hardening your resolve in addressing the proverbial elephant in the room: although you were truly unsure as to how.

You rotated your neck, a small crack produced from its circular motion in response. Drawing your eyes up to meet with his and stepping into his aura, you looked down at the floral arrangement in his hands. The hues were as vibrant and beautiful as each day prior, although this bunch seemed to hold an almost desperate apprehension and appreciation. There were so many intricate elements, it looked as if he absolutely scanned each leaf, petal, and stem within the greenhouse and beyond to draw each piece into it.

“Will you be joining me for breakfast this morning?” you coyly asked him, trying to tease out whether he would give himself up willingly or continue with this little facade no matter how much it pained him to do so. He looked at you, puzzled and perplexed, and began to attempt to assemble a response to your question.

“I will be where I always am for breakfast, my lady,” he responded, his eyes looking very pleased with his retort. You hummed in response, nodding your head externally while internally agitated at his successful avoidance of the question. Your betrothed seemed to not desire giving himself up willingly; which spurred you on to push harder.

“Even now he hides his face from you. He intends to deceive you until the bitter end.”

You shook your head of the thoughts whispering into your consciousness, casting them aside by closing your eyes and assessing your internal monologue. Reopening your eyes, you gazed back into his honeyed hues and smiled once more at him.

“Then I shall bid you farewell, sir,” you nodded politely and began to take your leave of him to only be halted by his firm grip holding firm to your right bicep beneath his left hand. You halted in your steps, turning back to look at him with your eyes filled with something Mihawk was not expecting to see from you.

Sorrow. Doubt. A deep and upturned sadness eclipsed over your face and caused him to stumble over his next words to you.

“I thought we were past all of those titles, Lost-Lady,” he attempted to reassure you with his words, only for you to pull away from his grasp. You apprehensively drew your right hand up to his face, hovering in front of his hat and mimicking the same movement over his features as he did the night prior. You sighed as your thumb brushed against his shielded chin before finding yourself cupping his shoulder beneath your palm.

“Would you prefer me to call you ‘Farm-Hand’,” you sighed, a smile pricking at the corner of your mouth as you continued to watch his eyes stagger beneath your pointed look, “Or shall I return the title you bestowed onto me?”

Mihawk was perplexed. Had you been spying on him? Did your ears hear the internal monologue he decided to relay verbally, actively mocking himself for his idiocy? Surely not. Hopefully not. He yearned for this deceit to flee from his form. No longer desiring to adorn this shield and to be the man beneath this amassment of muck for you; he wanted so desperately to cast aside titles and just truly be yours.

“And what title may that be?” Mihawk whispered beneath his breath caught within his throat. His gaze followed your fingertips as they circled around the flowers within his hands, prompting him to release them into your grip. You slipped your hand from his shoulder and turned to begin your withdrawal into the manor with one final quip over your shoulder.

“Thank you for the flowers. I will cherish them as I do all of the others you have presented me each day.” Beginning your ascension to your wing, you couldn’t help but wonder why he decided to continue adorning the mask you had already seen slipping and cracking at the corners.

“Perhaps it was truly because he does not truly love you.”

After retreating back into your designated wing, you shook the thoughts away from your mind and replaced the flowers atop your table with the fresh assortment he had crafted for you. You sighed out a small breath and began changing from your soiled clothes into your regular gown for tutelage of your two wards for the day.

Breakfast was far from silent that morning. Perona had begun chittering away about which lord and lady had begun courtship. She provided her commentary on the dresses and suits adorning each member of the attendees, focussing on the amassment of silks and satins clinging to the infamous clown-captain of the east blue.

“Did you see his frilly collar? Wasn’t it stunning?” her voice did little to hide her excitement regarding the frills and feathers, “And how beautiful his hair is! How does he keep his locks so silken on the seas, Mihawk? In fact, how do you keep them so-.”

“-Why must you continue to listen to the whining of the insufferable child? Flee from this land and find a suitor attuned to your interests and class-.”

“-And the amount of weaponry on the red-haired pirates! Did you see Yassop’s pistol, Zoro?” Perona continued with glee. Zoro grunted, reaching for a small rice-ball and placing it onto his plate before pouring himself a small, ceramic dish of tea from his ocha teapot.

“And the green-haired boy? Do you think he truly need of your services? He is a swordsman, no mere gentleman in need of a few curt lashes upon his behind. You can do nothing to train him further in the ways you know best. Leave.”

“I did see,” he grunted, rising the small mug to his lips and taking a sip, “I aim to tell my sharpshooting crewman about it when I get back to ‘em. Usopp would be keen to-.”

“Even now your intended ignores you. He has no interest in fostering the flames of your affection.”

You inhaled a deep breath, a shaken hand reaching forward to grasp your teaspoon within it and stirring a spoon of honey within the mug. You placed the spoon beside the mug and began to raise it to your lips and take a small sip of the liquid within.

Mihawk was not accustomed to this amount of silence from you. You often engaged with the wards in conversation over breakfast and went over the agenda for the day. Routine, structure and discipline were the three aspects alongside true professionalism he had come to enjoy with your mornings. Whatever plagued your thoughts held you completely in silence and unable to speak those words to life.

“Beloved-?” Mihawk began, attempting to regain your attention, only to witness your eyes continue to stare at the teapot placed in front of you.

“The moon, the starlit sky; they are beautiful dresses. But the golden assortment? Do you truly think that be enough-?”

“-My love, are you quite alright?” Mihawk attempted to gain your attention once more, only to become more concerned at the state of your daze. Perona halted her conversation with Zoro, looking over to Mihawk before drawing her eyes over your hunched form.

“Why don’t you set them in a glorious blaze, hm? What would be the harm in setting fire to those beautiful gowns? It should save you both the trouble of going through this sham of a marriage-.”

“-Hey!” Perona’s booming and otherworldly voice held dominion over the room, prompting your eyes to immediately draw themselves up to your pink-haired ward in confusion. Her rounded, dark pupils were holding firm to a space beside your left ear, the internal monologue halting itself as you glanced up. Perona began to levitate above the breakfast table, her hands reaching forward with her palms presented outwards.

“Step away from my governess, Hag!” Her voice held several tones within the single vocal strand, the air sucked from its delight of the morning rays. Zoro immediately was drawn to his feet, unsheathing his sword from beside him and brandishing it with flourish. Mihawk also rose to his feet, nodding to Zoro briefly, before he closed and reopened his amber eyes; now a ruby iris surrounding its glow. Zoro did the same, his iris crackling under the new color within his orbs.

You felt a weight being shifted off you as Perona’s hands sunk into the air beside you and cast it upwards. Feeling the rush of wind beside you, you inhaled a shaken breath and closed your eyes in a tight squeeze and held your lips in a tight and firm line. Feeling alone of the inner monologue, your hands were taken within the cool hands of your betrothed; prompting your eyes to flitter open.

“She is gone, beloved” he crouched at your left hand side, looking up into your eyes with concern interwoven within the once more amber hue of his irises. “Have her words bring you no hindrance nor whisper of worry. She can do no harm on this plane.” He reached up his hand and claimed your cheek beneath his palm, soothing you with his thumb rubbing circles within your smooth skin. “Her words are poisonous. The only harm she can truly do on this plane is with her words alone. I promise you, you are safe.”

“How long has she been here, Mihawk?” Perona asked at your other side, her eyes fixed on a pinned point in the roof and remaining unblinking, “She seemed so sad.” Mihawk continued to hold you within his sights, as he desired to ensure your emotional wellbeing after an encounter with the spectre of the witch that plagued him.

“She has been here with me since the ring was placed atop our governess’ unity finger. I had heard her voice only once before such a time,” Mihawk informed the three of you within the room, “And it was when I commissioned the ring to be set within the woven band itself.”

Drawing your eyes over to his, you danced your sorrowful eyes between his and allowed yourself a moment of weakness to lean into his palm with your cheek. He sighed at the small gesture, leaning his crouched body further into your and searching your eyes for any thoughts you desired to relay onto him.

“She fled from me two days ago when I had began concluding the task placed on me,” Mihawk continued to confess, removing his hand from your cheek and collecting both of your hands within his own, “I thought we were rid of her, considering-,” he halted his words, continuing to leave them unspoken within the air, but written all over his face.

Considering I love you.

Your soft smile in return had Mihawk’s heart swell within his chest. He drew your hands up to his face, the knuckles on your hands brushing his mustache as his lips caressed each joint above your fingers gently and deliberately. Perona smiled an impish smile as her eyes met with the display of affection between her lord and her governess, prompting her to swiftly gather the arm of the swordsman and direct him away from the room with an echo of protestations: “Hey, but I didn’t get to finish my breakfast-!”

Mihawk used his right leg to hook beneath a chair at your side and draw it close to him. His cocky smirk continued to hold against his lips as he continued gazing into your eyes, prompting you to roll them and chastise him with a click of your tongue. He drew it close to yours, sitting directly beside you and released one of your hands to collect your teacup and present it to you.

“My, my lord,” you smirked, taking the teacup from his hand and raising it to your lips, “offering to serve a lowly governess at breakfast?” It was his turn to chastise you with the click of his tongue, tutting you at your personal degradation.

“I thought I told you,” Mihawk began, choosing his next words by searching within his mind, “What was it you told the clown? We are more than the titles that make us?” You giggled, watching the corners of his eyes gather as his lips drew up into a small smile, “And we are far beyond simplistic roles, do you not agree?”

“Like the roles we chose for ourselves?” you offered the first extension of the relationship between your alter-egos to unmask between the two of you. He sighed, closing his eyes and bowing his head down in deep thought.

“I never thought of you as a lady who was ever lost,” he whispered, his tone low and deliberate, “I had always thought of you as a woman who commanded every space she found herself within. Even as a man far more advanced in his years,” he continued, reopening his eyes to look lovingly into your face, “I had always seen you as a woman who could have the mighty fall to their knees- much as you had me do this morning.”

Sighing your laugh, feeling the physical weight fall from your shoulders as your smile elevated your lips with its relief, you drew yourself closer to your beau and placed your forehead against his own with your eyes shut tightly.

“Does this mean I will no longer be receiving flowers from my beloved Farm-Hand, adorning an assortment of mud and grime?” you quipped at him, taking your bottom lip beneath your teeth. He huffed out a laugh of his own, withdrawing his forehead from yours and replacing it atop your brow with his lips.

“If you so desire for your Farm-Hand to bring his Lost-Lady your daily gift of flowers, I will gladly become him once more for you. However,” Mihawk drew his eyes back to yours, an almost playfulness dancing behind his honeyed gaze, “I expect my Lost-Lady to be in naught but her nightdress in return.”

—-----------------------

“I-I think I’ve done it,” the redhead captain exclaimed, his shaken right hand gathering the material beneath his hand and looking over it one last time, “I’ve done it! Becks! Becks!”

Shank’s cries of glee echoed throughout the red-force, his crew alerted to his excitement and began gathering themselves at their posts. Beckman rose to his feet, beginning to direct the crew in their duties to prepare to board the pier of Kuraigana once again.

“All hands! All hands on deck!” Shank’s voice called, his right hand waving a piece of parchment paper in absolute delight, “Hoist the colors, sound the alarms! We got to get the word to Hawk-Eyes! He marries on the morrow! Beckman, Becks-,” Shanks halted his feet, thrusting the parchment into the awaiting and overworked hands of his first-mate, “You reckon you could do that blindfolded, mate?”

Benn Beckman straightened the parchment with an assortment of intricately composed directions with diagrams and mathematical equations correlating with the design. He frowned, eyeing the minute details and beginning to commit their paths to memory.

“As I said, Cap’n,” Beckman confirmed, meeting the hazel gaze of Shanks’ awaiting and hopeful face, “I will do my best for the lady.” Shanks clapped his hand over his shoulder and began making his way to address his crew as Beckman began visually putting together the guide and its make within his mind, practicing several intricate knots with the strands of the rope beside him.

“The Vile Exterminator is getting married to the Hawk of Kuraigana! What a match!” Shanks cried in glee, the red-haired pirates cheering as they readied themselves to exit the ship and leave it behind to once more celebrate with the former rival of the captain.

“I will find your ring, Red-Haired Shanks,” Shanks’ smile dropped from his face as he snapped his head to seek out the voice, “I will find your ring and I will claim your soul as penance for your aid in keeping Mihawk’s from me.”

Shanks’ rubied eyes met with the cursed and haunting spectre of the ghoulish witch haunting his former rival and his former sailing companion.

“Do your worst, witch,” he addressed the spectre, “I would sooner lay down my life than see those two part from one another. You should be happy! You’ve got what you wanted. They will be unified and your curse shall be lifted. That’s what you want, isn’t it? To see others have what was taken from you? To see them happy and thriving with each other?”

The spectral woman, her hair thrashing and wild, snarled at him before her form dissipated from its place in front of him. Shanks mockingly snarled in return at the position the ghostly woman was prior, opting to pay her warning no mind as he began prematurely celebrating with his crew by opening a fresh keg of ale. Gathering his den-den-mushi to inform the bride and groom of his success in completing the task, he dialed after placing the receiver against his shoulder and waited for the other end to pick up.

“It’s done, Hawks. Congratulations, you marry on the morrow!”

#one piece #opla #x reader #opla fic #one piece live action #mihawk #dracule mihawk #mihawk x reader #dracule mihawk x reader #mihawk one piece #one piece mihawk #mihawk sapsorrow au #mihawk fairytale au #sapsorrow au

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shaynesthetic · 2 months

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The only thing I think I got right | Luke Castellan

Word Count: 10.2k

A "Better Unknown" AU oneshot

Main Series: Better Unknown

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Minor God! Half-Blood! Gender Neutral MC

Synopsis: Out of everything that Luke thought he fucked up his entire life, Y/N leaving him where he stood was the ultimate fuck up he wishes he hadn’t. How can he fix this? And will he be able to?

Tags: Two idiots, mutual pining, Best friends to lovers, fluff, angst with comfort

Warning: Little beta- reading, foul language

Banner by @/cafekitsune

A/N: Hello once again! This was a last-minute idea that's why I'm a little late. Happy Valentines Day! Or belated Valentines' Day if it's already the 15th for you like it is for me. Once again, English is not my first language so apologies for any grammatical errors. Critiques are always welcomed.

A/N: Also, I correct some stuff whenever I see fit sometimes. So if anyone sees any errors, no you didn't. Also also, as of February 16, 2024, I have updated the ending.

It was the month everyone either despised or loved; It was Aphrodite’s month. A.K.A Valentines. February was always Camp Half-Blood's busiest month. With nymphs making sure every tree was lush and perfect, satyrs helping Demeter kids with preparing and picking the ripest strawberries, Aphrodite kids running around the camp supervising preparations for a feast to be held in honor of their mother alongside some Hermes and Hephaestus kids who were tasked on helping them, with a small fee of dessert that is.

Half of the campers were hanging out with their friends today, grateful that they could finally have a day to themselves, either by canoeing on the lake or having picnics in front of the beautiful views the Hill can give them. Younger campers made heart-shaped letters in the arts and crafts center to send to either their parent or the person they wanted to confess to. Others were practicing the lyre, particularly the Apollo kids, who were asked to help serenade confessing individuals, once again, with a small fee of their food portions, drachmas, and other privileges.

Then there was Y/N. Along with some Ares kids, they were on the training grounds, passing the time. It wasn't that Y/N was a bitter gremlin on Valentine's or anything, it was just that they treated it just like any other day. Why need a day to celebrate your love for others when you can do that every day? Was their philosophy. Truth be told, ever since their mom's passing, they just didn't see the point in celebrating. But that was before coming to Camp Half-Blood. They didn't celebrate arriving in camp either, don't get them wrong…but at least they weren’t alone. It wasn’t like the Ares kids were bitter gremlins either; they just didn’t care. Well, they claim they don’t. But you’ll have to take their word on it.

Y/N was with Clarisse and one of her other siblings, Mark, who insisted on joining them. Clarisse was helping Y/N with the spear, also with a small fee (why would anyone work for free nowadays anyway?). They have been sparring for a few hours, and none have yet to let down. Perks of being the Ares kid and a minor god, respectively. Another sparring session commenced and Mark just watched as their sibling and Y/N hit blow after blow with each other. The clashing of wood and iron made the air sting with adrenaline, and both took advantage of it.

The dropping of the spear took Mark off his apparent disassociation, and the scene came into view. Y/N was on the ground, with Clarisse pointing a spear to their neck, one minor move from Y/N and Clarisse could nick them. Y/N, out of breath, smiled and looked up at the girl, before nodding and raising their hands in complete surrender. "Alright, Clarisse. You got me." The child of Ares cackled victoriously at them, Mark in the background cheering. Y/N got up and brushed the dust off their clothes.

“You’re kinda getting good. You still suck but the sparring’s getting you somewhere.” Give it to Clarisse for giving compliments, if you can call it a compliment. But Y/N took it as one. It was a rare occurrence for the Ares cabin’s head counselor to give compliments to other cabins, but for some odd reason, Y/N was an exception. Well, it wasn’t THAT odd. Y/N and Clarisse were best friends, and other campers find that awfully odd. But to Y/N, they were odd to begin with and everything in their life, from the Gods to prophecies to quests are too, so who cares? Being friends with the biggest bully and their other siblings in the camp was the least of their worries.

Y/N rolled their eyes at Clarisse before shoving their hands in their jean pockets, making their way to a hay bale, and plopping down on it. Clarisse sat next to them, looking at the spear in their hands. “Any plans for the Goddess of Love’s Day?” Y/N asks out of the blue. Clarisse only stared at them before she started laughing with malice. Is it malice? Y/N couldn’t tell.

“What do you think, Ease?” Clarisse smirked as Y/N blushed at the nickname. It was a nickname given by Y/N’s other best friend, Luke, the son of Hermes. It was a nickname to embody what Y/N was to Luke, as he claims. Ever since the duo came back to camp after a particularly harrowing quest, Luke never had any troubles with sleeping and claimed Y/N had everything to do with it. Y/N begged to disagree, although they weren't going to admit he was right. Ever since, that nickname stuck like glue. Luke took every second embarrassing them with the nickname. It secretly infuriated them, but Y/N knew it had to be endearing, so they let it go. Y/N had a weird set of friends, who would never get along they think, but Y/N didn’t care. A friend was a friend.

Clarisse, unfortunately, one day had the fortune of hearing Luke call them that. It was during one of the sword fighting training sessions with Luke, and he, out of either pettiness or wanting to embarrass the hell out of Y/N, called them up to be their test dummy sparring buddy. It went smoothly at first. Y/N wasn’t new to Luke asking them to be his sparring and demonstration partner whenever both Y/N’s cabin’s itineraries and his time as a teacher coincide, which doesn’t happen that often, but when it does Luke took advantage of it. Regardless, Y/N did it for Luke. And Luke was always ever so grateful for it.

After a few demonstrations from Luke, the real sparring commenced. Y/N knew they had no leg to stand on and was awfully aware that Luke was the best swordsman in Camp Half-Blood. There was no way in hell they’d beat him. It was a short spar and before they knew it, Y/N was on the ground, a scene Y/N was all too familiar with to the point Y/N might as well befriend the ground they walk on by how much accustomed they were to being face to face with it.

Luke smiled at Y/N as the tip of their sword was right in front of their throat and Y/N rolled their eyes. "You okay there, Ease?" he asked, offering their hand for them to take. Y/N partially accepted the offer, before their eyes widened. The nickname wasn't supposed to go out to everyone else. They looked at the crowd before them, Apollo kids, Y/N's cabin, and unfortunately, Ares kids and Clarisse. Shame and embarrassment became anger, and Y/N swatted Luke's hand before beelining to the exit.

Luke stood there stunned, not realizing the gravity of the situation. It took him a while to finally understand what he had done. Y/N had firmly asked them to keep the nickname between themselves. But Luke couldn't help it. He forgets himself whenever he's in front of them. It was like Y/N was his tunnel vision, and he forgot every ounce of autonomy and thought. He knew he didn't mean to embarrass Y/N but it slipped. And now, Luke had to ask for penance. It wasn't new for the two to bicker and fight, it was in friends' nature to do so. However, this was different. Y/N was the type to always prove a point, and they'd normally react with a malice-laced “What the hell does that mean?” or a very exasperated “What?”, but today was different. They left without arguing, and that scared Luke more than all of their heated fights combined. He swallowed from worry and nervousness before apologizing to everyone in the arena, also beelining to the exit. Clarisse was there to witness everything, and for once that day, she snickered.

Ever since that day, Ease had stuck in everyone's minds. Although no one dared to use it and stuck on calling Y/N their name, Clarisse would use it often to either taunt or tease them, there was no in-between.

"I hate you so much" Y/N begrudgingly says, looking far away from them. Clarisse's laugh roared as a response. "Does Mr. Loverboy have any plans for you both?” That got Y/N's attention. They tilted their head, trying to decipher her words. Clarisse, ever so observant, took that as an answer and sighed.

"He's such a fucking loser." Mark and Y/N's heads snap up, nonverbally lecturing the girl for the use of such…language. It was second nature to think Chiron was listening to them, and the look of disapproval from the camp director was hard to remove. The last thing they wanted was Clarisse getting in trouble or worse…dishwashing duty. “What? It’s true, isn’t it? That boy is in love with you and couldn’t get the balls to confess to you. He's stuck looking at you like a kicked puppy every time he even catches sight of you it's so damn annoying.” It was now Y/N’s turn to laugh, albeit it was more bitter than straight coffee. They knew it wasn’t possible. Y/N knew their feelings for their best friend were genuine but for some sick, twisted, sadistic reason, Y/N decided upon themselves to assume that it was one-sided, and thus made it their mission to lock it up and throw away the key. Even if they weren’t romantically involved, they were just happy for Luke to be a part of their life. Y/N has convinced themselves.

“I can’t believe I’m friends with idiots!” Clarisse raises her arms in frustration and annoyance, to both her best friend and Luke themselves. It was clear that they danced around their feelings and it was so fascinating that an Ares kid out of everyone saw that, out of all the kids in the camp. It was comedic, albeit sad, but comedic.

“Clarisse, you’re the only one who thinks that.” “Not really.” Mark immediately interjects. Y/N glares at the kid, Mark shrugging in response. Clarisse pumps her fist in the air and high-fives Mark in vindication. “Even the kid sees it, Y/N. Stop telling yourself it ain’t so because it is. Luke loves you and you love him. End of story.”

"I'm content that he's part of my life, Clarisse. Isn't that enough?" The last sentence came out in the form of a whisper, which even Y/N was surprised by. They tried to convince either themselves or Clarisse & Mark that that was the case. Why were they getting choked up about this in the first place? Weren't they content that he was part of their life? Y/N damns their actions for betraying their words.

“Look, just accept the fact you like Luke. Stop pretending and stop convincing yourself that you don’t. Let your feelings out.” Clarisse blurted out. Y/N couldn’t help but not stifle a laugh. “Since when did you become Aphrodite’s kid?” Clarisse jokingly punched their shoulder, a blush creeping in her cheeks. “Shut up.” The Clarisse that they knew, the one who hid her feelings well, embodied pride, arrogance & exuded bravery, and wouldn’t dare give any advice, less a confession, was back.

“Look, I’m just saying that you’re no better than Luke. You might be even worse than him. And I don’t like seeing my best friend sulking because they made their own bed and laid on it. Stop being stupid and accept the fact that Luke has feelings for you and you have to as well or I'll have to beat you with a stick just to get it through your thick skull."

Y/N spent the entire day looking for Luke, who was nowhere to be found in his normal stations. They asked all his siblings about his whereabouts but nothing. Na-da. Zip. It wasn’t like him to disappear. In a day they’d see wafts of his brownish-black curly hair in the crowd multiple times and knew it was him. Whenever they see him, it was as if he's the only one they can see.

They decided to look around the cabins once again. They bargained to themselves that if they didn’t see him that time, they’d just look for them at the dining pavilion later tonight or just assume he’s busy. They were so busy with their thoughts it took them a while to finally see the man of the hour. He was leaning against the Aphrodite Cabin, talking to a girl. The girl was blonde, and her height was the same as Luke's shoulder. Louise Clifford-Jacobs, Y/N remembered her name. They were one of Aphrodite Cabin’s kindest members. Y/N wasn’t close to them but they’ve talked once in a while and they’ve heard nothing but kind words from everyone around her. They were laughing and the girl was giggling, excitement drawn on her face. She notices Y/N approaching him and she taps Luke's shoulder before pointing to their direction.

Luke looked away from her and saw Y/N, smiling and waving. Luke offered them what seemed like a smile and a hand raised. The smile was something Y/N noticed approaching him. It looked as if it was out of nervousness or tiredness, Y/N couldn't pinpoint which one. It looked forced and was nowhere near Luke's actual smile.

Still, Y/N flashed a big smile at Luke, happy that they finally found him after that unnecessary scavenger hunt to locate him. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. You weren’t in the Sword Fighting Arena and your siblings didn’t know where you were”

Luke shifted on his feet, hung his head down, and put his hand on the back of his neck. “Hey, Ease. Yeah sorry ‘bout that I had a lot of things to do. I’ll make it up to you soon. Honest!” Y/N nodded their head in understanding. “Oh yeah!” they exclaimed, remembering why they were looking for him in the first place. “I was gonna ask you something. Do you have a second?” Luke began looking between them and Louise. The air suddenly felt thick as tensions and awkwardness rose as if Luke was caught between a rock and a hard place. It seemed as if Luke made his decision when he responded, "Oh shit, sorry Ease I'm in the middle of something with Louise. Do you mind?"

The smile on Y/N’s face dropped and a forced hard line formed on their lips. “Oh. Oh okay. No worries. If it’s important I can ask you some other time. Bye Louise!” Y/N quickly walked away with hands in their pockets. Y/N felt a pang in their chest, and their heart began to beat more rapidly than normal. They didn’t know what they were feeling. Sadness? Disappointment? It seemingly wasn’t Y/N’s Day, but they convinced themselves that it was because Luke was busy, considering he was Camp Counselor after all. Yeah, that’s what it is. Y/N tried to rationalize what took place. However, Y/N evidently came up short.

It had begun to be a daily occurrence it seems, Y/N finding Luke, asking if they could talk or hang out with them and him disregarding them, brushing them off, or telling them they're busy. Just like it became a sudden everyday occurrence, it also became a nuisance and annoyance to Y/N. Once can be brushed off as a mere coincidence but multiple times in a week? Now, that wasn't a coincidence. It had become clear to Y/N: Luke was avoiding them. But why? Did they do something to upset Luke? Couldn’t be. Was it? It didn’t make sense to Y/N. It didn’t make sense to poor ol’ Annabeth either, whom Y/N found solace in. They felt bad and shameful, talking to a literal 13-year-old about stuff they should be dealing with on their own. But Luke was Annabeth’s brother, and Annabeth knew more about him than Y/N would ever in their lifetime. So, it made sense that Y/N would approach her.

"I could've sworn Luke was walking back and forth from the beach. I've seen him there multiple times a day. Even at the lake with the canoes, I'd see him too. He always looked nervous and his hands were clammy. He was very jumpy too. Whenever I’d ask him, he’d brush me aside, force me off his case, and make me return to the Athena cabin.” Annabeth explained one day when they asked about their sibling’s whereabouts. Y/N was slowly getting frustrated, not at Annabeth but at the lack of answers. Who wouldn’t be? Your best friend, out of the blue, began ignoring you; without offering any answers, without explanation. Anyone would go insane just thinking about it. Y/N felt they had no one else to blame but themselves.

Y/N felt despondent more and more every day, and it wasn’t hard to notice. Their signature smile was gone, they weren't eating much, and aloof. Their cabin-mates noticed it too. They weren't their enthusiastic self and slugged around with their activities for the day. Their siblings, wanting to distract them from whatever caused their unorthodox behavior, asked if they wanted to do hand-to-hand combat or forge weapons in the camp forge, which was what Y/N liked doing the most, but was met with a shrug and a distant stare off into the abyss.

It wasn't just their cabin that got the brunt of Y/N’s melancholy. Half of the population in the camp did. Their beds weren't as comfortable as they had gotten used to. Campers began feeling awful emotionally waking up, some had dreams that caused nothing but dejection and misery. Some Aphrodite kids even woke up feeling nothing but heartache, even though it was supposed to be their month. Everyone was affected, and regardless if Y/N knew of this or not, that wasn’t a matter to them that they cared enough about to fix. Selfish? Probably is.

The last straw was on a random Tuesday when once again, Y/N looked for Luke. They once again, like clockwork, looked everywhere for him. They finally found them near the Hermes cabin, talking to his half-siblings. Approaching them, they sensed that Luke wasn't in the best of moods, with his back tensed than usual and their siblings looking as if the ground was far more interesting than their older brother's lecture. The two, who they later found out were the Stolls, noticed Y/N approaching. Connor (Y/N thought it was Connor but they weren’t sure) looked at Luke before directing his eyes towards Y/N. Luke's eyebrows scrunched up before looking at what had gotten the Stoll siblings' attention. Y/N, with hands behind their back and with a thin line on their lips, greeted Luke.

Before Y/N could greet them, Luke stopped them. “Listen, Y/N. I know you wanna hang out with me and tell me whatever this is you want to tell me. I get that. I see that. But please, not now. I’m in the middle of something here.”

Y/N’s eyebrows furrow in sadness and in turn look at the Stolls. Y/N, who has been patient with their best friend, just wasn’t having it. Out of either frustration or desperation, Y/N spoke. “I know that and I understand that. Being a camp counselor is hard work, especially with these ruffians trying to tear down every wall in the cabin.” Y/N tried to lighten up the situation, earning a snicker from the Stolls, who weren’t their intended audience. Luke just stood there, his face still the same, albeit more unamused than before.

“But you have to relax for once. You’ve been at it for days now so I was won-““No.” Luke immediately interjects with hints of venom laced in his teeth. Y/N’s breath hitched. This was the first time in their life they’ve heard Luke speak like that. He was usually this nonchalant, chill dude. Serious when needed but a stand-up guy. Today wasn’t the normal Luke. No, it was something else. It made Y/N’s spine tingle with fear. It also made the Stolls’ back straightened.

“C’mon, Luke. I know you’re working hard but-""I said no, Y/N. Gods above, can’t you please just listen to me once? I’m busy. Please. Leave.” Y/N gulped, looking back at the Stolls before looking back to Luke, whose eyebrows furrowed and scar making him all the more menacing. Y/N immediately left, locking themselves away in their cabin. They looked up, and just thinking about Luke’s tone and expression made them tear up. It was oh so wrong for Y/N to cry over someone, let alone a boy. But this was no ordinary boy no. This boy was special to them, and their expression of annoyance towards them felt like a stab to the heart multiple times, each time the intensity got worse and worse and as a joke, his expression kept removing the daggers only to put it back in.

This made Y/N’s overthinking tenfold. They have settled at the fact that Luke hated them, thought of them as an annoyance, thought of them as excess baggage. These thoughts overwhelmed Y/N and in turn, tears welled up in their eyes, cascading onto their pillow until they fell asleep. None of their siblings tried to bother them, eyes looking back at each other laced with sympathy towards their once exuberant sibling. Y/N ultimately missed lunch and dinner, and Luke noticed that day that Y/N was nowhere to be found. But ultimately decided not to do anything about it.

It was a Thursday when the downfall came. Y/N, who was feeling nothing but sadness the past couple of days, like a shift of tides, has inadvertently turned this sadness into something else; something much more dangerous and malicious: Anger. It was all of a sudden. Y/N woke up on the wrong side of the bed, and that’s when everything went to shit. Y/N’s anger poured over everyone in their cabin. Sammie, Y/N's bunkmate, asked them what was wrong. They were always there for Y/N and Y/N considered Sammie their closest sibling out of everyone. So, it was a surprise to all of their siblings when Y/N’s voice, filled with malice and venom, barked “LEAVE ME ALONE. CAN’T YOU SEE I’M NOT? FOR GOD'S SAKE JESUS ABOVE! ARE YOU STUPID OR BRAIN DEAD?” Everyone’s mouth hung open as they looked at each other, either out of fear or mere awkwardness. Y/N wasn’t the type to scream at anyone out of the blue. They were boisterous and loud, sure, but it was out of happiness and eagerness to wake up every day. But now, it was like a cloud cast over Camp Half-Blood, even though it never rained there.

Everyone stopped what they were doing to look at the scene in front of them. Y/N on their bed, blanket strewn about on their legs as they scowled at the now teary-eyed Sammie. Time stood still and the air got more and more heavy. Here was their zealous and exuberant sibling, who woke up and randomly just chose to pick a fight the moment their eyes opened. It wasn't like them. But no one knew what caused them to snap. Someone had to step between them and Hayden, one of the older members of the camp, guided Sammie away from Y/N before they further angered them. Essie, another one of their siblings, glared at Y/N.

Y/N, with everyone's eyes on them, finally was hugged by clarity's warmth and their eyes softened. They looked around to see their siblings looking at them with the expression of either disgust or shame, and Y/N couldn't stand to be around their siblings. They tossed their blanket aside and went out of their cabin, head down.

Maybe walking could clear my head. Y/N thought. So, they walked. And walked, visiting every place you can go to in camp, rinse and repeat. They felt like a soulless traveler, wandering aimlessly around. Lifeless and tired. As they began walking back to their cabin however, a familiar voice tried to stop them. They tensed up, realizing it was Luke, the same boy who had been ignoring them for days, who now had the utter audacity to come up to them as if nothing had happened.

Y/N, more infuriated than before, turned around to look at the boy. He was in a smiley mood, creases formed on the side of their eyes. This was Luke’s signature smile that he knew Y/N loved, but unfortunately for him, today wasn’t the day it’d work on them. They glowered at Luke with intense fury in their eyes, and Luke, at that moment, wanted nothing more than to be sucked in by a black hole from where he stood, even though they had no idea what had made them furious like that. In the years of knowing Y/N, Luke knew they had that specific look whenever they were furious, that one that made you want to eat dirt or bury yourself alive. It wasn’t a normal occurrence, which made the intensity of the look way worse. And whenever they did show it, regardless of how many times they’ve done so over the years, it always felt like the first, and Luke always shuddered seeing it. He wasn’t thrilled when his Ease was upset. And in years of knowing them, knew not to mess with Y/N during their spouts of anger, but what Luke wanted to tell them was very important to both of them, Luke thinks, and assumed it’d make Y/N’s mood better, just like every other plan Luke had for them when they were mad or upset. In hindsight, this was probably the worst decision Luke has ever made.

"Hey, I was looking for you. Do you have a second?" Luke put his hands in his khaki pants' pockets and smiled at Y/N. Luke's nonchalance made Y/N's expression turn from anger into disbelief. Did he actually believe that Y/N, whose face is red with anger and disgust towards Luke's actions for the past week, would just come around and entertain Luke's question? Certainly, no one would. Disbelief turned into fury, and Y/N's hands turned into a fist. They approached Luke, and for a minute Luke smiled. Tunnel vision once again washed over Luke, and unfortunately for him, he failed to see Y/N, who without hesitation, swung at him.

Luke was on the ground in an instant, shock painted across his face. He felt for the side of his lip, which was now cut open and oozing with blood. If Y/N was in a better mood, they’d take a picture of Luke’s expression and hang it up so people would gawk at it. But alas, Y/N didn’t have a camera, and they weren’t in the mood for stupid jokes, let alone Luke’s.

“You really have the gall to ask me that? After what you’ve fucking done?” Y/N’s every step was filled to the brim with resentment, each step might leave and burn a permanent mark on the ground. Luke wasn't looking forward to what Y/N was gonna do to him. And Luke, in all of this, was painfully unaware of what he had done, as evident by the clueless look he had, which infuriated Y/N more.

“You, Luke Castellan, are the stupidest, shittiest, and the most pathetic excuse of a man I've ever met in this entire lifetime. You ignore me for days, brush me off when I try to talk to you and act like I don't exist. You are just as cruel as the Gods. No, scratch that. Even worse. If you didn’t wanna be friends anymore you could’ve just fucking told me instead of you acting like you don't see me.” The anger in Y/N seemingly dissipated, replacing it with another just as intense if not more emotion: Anguish. Y/N's eyes were now filled to the brim with days' worth of unshed tears, it was as if the dam inside their heart finally burst. Luke finally, by the grace of God, realized the critical error they'd made. They didn't mean to leave Y/N in the dust like that, but Y/N didn't know that. It was his fault for not communicating with them about it. He, upon seeing his best friend, with tears in their eyes and anger and other pent-up emotions over the days splattered in both their face and actions, knew he had morally fucked up. Luke Castellan, who was very much aware of how many times he had fucked up in his life, who was so used to seeing the consequences of his actions, for seemingly the first time, was now so blissfully aware of how unaware he was of the damage he’d done. The last thing he wanted was to make Y/N feel anything but happiness. He never wanted to hurt them or make them cry. They swore one day years ago that until they died, they wouldn’t make Y/N feel that way. To be alone. To be abandoned, like the Gods did. Luke had always been angry at the Gods for ignoring them and didn't want anyone, especially their best friend, to feel that way after everything that had happened to them. But like the Gods, life was cruel like that, and promises were sometimes made to be broken. And Luke failed. Yet again. He did. At that moment, he realized just how much anguish and pain he had caused. Luke's expression softened and regret was now sprawled across his face.

Y/N raised their fist towards Luke, and he closed his eyes, expecting a second punch to land on his face. I deserve it. he thought. But he waited and waited until…nothing. Instead, Y/N's fist faced the ground, and their head was down, tears dripping onto the dirt they were now kneeling on. They gripped on their pants like a lifeline, as they shook with rage. Luke, fully grasping what was happening, tried to approach them and touch their hand. But as soon as he tried, Y/N moved away from him. At that moment, you could hear Luke's heart shattering into millions of pieces. He'd officially ruined it. Just like everything he touched.

Y/N stood up and wiped the tears that were threatening to spill from their eyes. Their hair was a mess, shirt rippled as if it wasn't ironed and their hand was now a little bloody from the punch to both Luke's face and the contact with the Earth. Y/ N looked at Luke with malice, and Luke unconsciously stepped back.

“Stay away from me, Luke Castellan. If you know what’s good for you, I advise you to do so. Never ever talk to me again. Go fuck yourself. We’re done.”

Relationships end, that was a given. Love was silly like that. Breaking up and losing who you thought was your forever was one of the saddest heartaches you can get in life. That was universal knowledge. But Luke, at that moment, knew that that wasn't the case. To him, the most heartbreaking thing was to see their best friend walk away, just like that. They essentially gave up on him, and Luke had nothing to blame but himself. The one person who he knew wouldn’t give up on them, did just that. Friendships come and go, and over time and unexpectedly, they can break off. And all you can do is accept and move on. That was natural. But this wasn’t something Luke didn’t want to just accept. He knew this one’s reason wasn't natural. And it had one reason: him. Luke Castellan. Son of Hermes. A fuck up.

Luke laid on his bunk bed, contemplating. This had been going on for two days already. Luke waking up and doing nothing but brood and contemplate. Nobody in the cabin bothered him, aside from Chris who stepped up as temporary camp counselor for him and updated him once in a while about what they did that day, and his other younger sister Mia who cleaned up his wound upon seeing him enter the cabin, dazed and hurt. He would kill just for Y/N to say something to him, to scream at him, do something instead of the cold glares they have given them when they reach the dinner pavilion or even as they walk near their cabin. For some reason, Y/N always knew they were there, and it pissed them off even more. The silence between them was deafening, and Luke hated every minute of it. It wasn't rare for the two to fight, Y/N was feisty and loved arguing, especially when they knew they were right. But the first time, when Y/N decided that they weren't gonna argue, got Luke shaken up and scared.

Luke had looked everywhere for Y/N that day. He knew he royally fucked up, calling Y/N by their nickname that they’ve agreed upon should be kept in secrecy. Put that in the list of things Luke has fucked up in the years of their friendship. Worry filled Luke’s brain. What if they went to the forest and got hurt? Luke wouldn’t forgive himself if that happens. He’s lost a lot of people in his life, and when Y/N came into his life, while ambivalent at first, later on promised to himself that he wasn’t gonna let anything happen to Y/N. He had sworn to protect them, even though he knew they didn’t need him. Luke was just about to give up, his nerves shaken as he anxiously thought of multiple what-ifs in his head, when he found them ultimately in the last place they never bothered to search: the campfire.

Y/N was sitting on the ground, hugging their knees. They were looking at the ground. Luke hesitantly walked towards them and sat next to them. The fire crackled as a girl, who was not older than 8, tended to the flames. He could’ve sworn he's never seen this girl in the years he’s been here but that didn’t matter. Y/N sensed someone was next to them, and looked up. Luke sheepishly smiled at them and in turn, Y/N looked away.

Luke sighed and laid his head on their shoulder, closing his eyes. Y/N didn’t shrug him off, which was a good thing but they weren’t looking at him. They just sat there, the crackling of fire the only thing you could hear as it danced like two lovers in an intense dance for their lives. Silence went by minutes. No one dared making a sound.

“I’m sorry.” Were the first words that pierced the silence that surrounded them. Luke sat right up and looked at Y/N who was now looking at them with the most heavenly eyes Luke had ever seen. Their eyes were out of this world, it was as if planets and novas were encased in them. But what ruined it was the gloss. Not because of the glossiness of their eyes, but the cause of it. Y/N had been crying. And it was Luke’s fault.

“Why are you apologizing, Ease? It’s not your fault. It’s mine. I embarrassed you. I promised that I wouldn’t tell anyone about it. And now here you are, crying. I also promised I wouldn’t make you cry either.” He sighed before putting his forehead on their shoulder, closing his eyes. It was another minute before Y/N spoke again.

“It’s stupid, Luke. It was petty. And I made it a big deal by leaving. I shouldn’t have embarrassed you in front of the campers. I fucked up. I’m sorry.”

The pair looked at each other in lopsided smiles. “We’re both a mess, huh?” He looked at them again with the biggest and doofiest smile he could muster. Then, giggles. Giggling and laughter roared in the air as the two non-verbally apologized to each other. Hugs and jokes were shared that day in front of the bonfire. You couldn’t burn that scene whenever you tried. It was one of the best days the two ever had.

Emphasis on had. Luke thought. Now, he lays there, contemplating the bridge he’d burn from the one good thing in his life. What Luke couldn’t forget the most were their eyes, filled with hate and malice towards him. Seeing them like that felt like the entire world, his entire world, fall apart. And then they left them there standing, forced to pick up the millions of pieces he himself destroyed.

He knew he loved them; he really did. He could lie under oath and people would know he’s being disingenuous. He’d known for a while about what he felt for them. The way he looks at them from a distance as they laugh with their cabin-mates, a smile unconsciously creeps into his lips. The way their eyes drag towards them instinctively in the crowd. The way they put him over themselves and how much they accommodate him. Those were some of the things they loved about Y/N. And it took Chris and the entire Hermes cabin just to make him realize just how much of a love-sick puppy he was. Although he knew of his feelings towards them, just like Y/N though, they were both content in being part of their lives. Just like Y/N, He was scared that he might fuck up if they both got together, and he didn’t want to lose them. So, he convinced himself that keeping them in their lives platonically was the only solution they had. They were both idiots. Laughing at that now, Luke couldn’t help but slap himself in the face. You kept them platonically but you still fucked up. Way to go, Castellan.

He was surely convinced he was just okay to keep them in their lives platonically. He didn’t even initially plan anything on Valentine's Day. Just hanging out with them and doing nothing was okay for Luke. But as Valentine’s Day crept around the corner, Luke couldn’t help but think of holding their hand that day as fireworks sprayed in the sky, red and white lights dancing and looking down at them. He couldn’t help but dream of holding them in their arms, kissing them on the temple, smiling down at them as they both looked at each other in adoration. He knew he had to make a move, as both were as stubborn as mules. Y/N had always been the one to initiate everything. From hanging out to just lollygagging around camp. Y/N has always been there for him. It was always Y/N. Y/N. Y/N. He swears he could make their name a chant, just to immortalize this being he could’ve sworn was given to him by the Gods themselves. What did he do to deserve such an angel? He doesn’t know. He realized that for once in his life, He wanted to initiate something first. Not Y/N. Him.

He felt his heart ripping out of his chest, and at that instant, he knew he had to do something. At first, he couldn’t find Aphrodite kids who he was close enough to ask for advice since they were all busy with the Feast. But the Gods smiled down upon him that day, in the form of Louise Clifford-Jacobs. Luke wasted no hesitation asking Louise about what to do on Valentines, the perfect spot in Camp Half-Blood, the perfect food to serve, everything. He was so focused on planning he didn’t realize Y/N was next to him, the last person he hoped to hear him ask an Aphrodite girl about his plans for them. Looking at Y/N and their smile, Luke felt his heart beat in his chest. His ears turned red as the love of their life smiled upon them, like sun rays that greeted you in the morning. Y/N had wanted to ask him a question, and although he wanted to entertain it, he still had to plan their date. Luke knew he hadn’t had much time but he didn’t wanna make them leave. Sacrifices were needed to be taken, and Luke had asked them to leave. The smile that left Y/N’s face broke his heart, but he had to do something so that his plan wasn’t blown.

Luke watched as Y/N left and felt a pang, it was as if someone had shot them directly into his chest. Looking at Louise, they instinctively knew they had to make the date as special as ever.

But all the planning. All gone to waste because Luke had failed to focus on the one good thing he had. He was so intent on making the perfect date he forgot who it was for. And now Luke was just there staring into the abyss of the bunk bed, dejected that not only he lost his best friend, his grand plan was useless now. Maybe he could give the plan to Percy? He wasn’t sure anymore.

A knock on the door interrupted his brooding, and he sat up to see the last person he expected to see today. Clarisse La Rue, in all her Ares fashion, walked inside and sat next to Luke. She intently looked at Luke, anger pulsing through her veins. Luke gulps in response.

“I wanna punch you so bad, Castellan.” She started. “So, so bad. You don’t know how much you fucked up.” He flinched. He knew how hard Ares kids’ punches are, but Clarisse’s was deadlier. You could’ve hit him with a stone and it would hurt way less. She continues. “But I won’t.” Luke sat up, confused. If she wasn’t there to hurt him then what? Luke couldn’t wrap around the scenario happening right now.

“Clarisse, if you’re looking for Capture the Flag alliances, go look for someone else. I’m not in the mood to think of strategies nor care for any bartering you're gonna do.” Luke bluntly stated as he plopped his head on his pillow, covering his eyes with his arm. He hears the girl sigh. “As much as I would really like to make an alliance with you, I’m here for Y/N”

This caught the boy’s attention as he sat up again. He stares at Clarisse before she starts to speak. “Look, I’m probably the last person you’d expect to play cupid but goddamn you both are annoying as fuck. I’ll cut to the chase, Castellan. My best friend is fucking in love with you, they just couldn’t admit it because they’ve made their thick skull think they didn’t have a chance with you. It has gotten worse ever since you started your little game of ignoring them. Now, I know you like them too, the way you look at them makes me wanna vomit but whatever. And I know you didn't mean to ignore them. This is all just a big misunderstanding and Idiot 1 and 2 do nothing but brood and sigh all day. I for one think it's annoying as hell.” Clarisse sighs, reclining on the railings of Luke’s bunk. " The point is, I’m not gonna sit around and see them cry over some idiot. Now, get your sad, pathetic ass out of bed and tell me your plan so I can help.”

Luke and Clarisse indeed formed an unlikely alliance. Although not in Capture The Flag, it was for Y/N so it was the next best thing. Luke’s plan was simple: it was a simple dinner date at the camp’s gazebo, with the gazebo facing the lake. Luke used his abilities as a Hermes kid to smuggle in Y/N and his' favorite food. Clarisse, who had connections with Aphrodite kids through her other best friend Silena, had asked them to help Luke with his case. They didn’t hesitate, seeing that love and courtship was their forte. Louise and Silena lead the operation, Luke owing them big time for this. In all of the planning and decorating, Luke had gotten antsy. And Silena was getting rather annoyed. Using her charm speak, she had managed to calm Luke’s nerves. Sighs of relief echoed as Luke decided to sit as far away as the Aphrodite kids and let them do their jobs without looking like a strict supervisor.

Silena and Clarisse had known for a long time just how much the Hermes boy yearned for Y/N. In fact, the pair were taking bets on who would confess first, with Silena betting that Y/N would meanwhile Clarisse was betting on Luke. In the meantime, it seems like none of them were winning. And they wouldn’t like that now, would they? That’s why they agreed to help him. Though it was the second reason, the real reason why was sweeter, but they would rather be caught dead than admit that.

Whilst Silena and Clarisse helped prepare, they couldn’t help but look back at Luke. His leg wobbled up and down and he kept wringing his hands. Sweat was rolling down his head as his eyes shifted, while silent murmurs left his mouth. In the many years these two have known Luke, they have never seen him like this. He was the epitome of confidence, both in the eyes of his siblings and everyone in the camp. He was ever so self-assured with both his abilities in sword fighting and his abilities as Head Counselor. Yet here he was, a blubbering mess. It was definitely out of character for him. The two kept snickering every time they looked back at him, and they looked back at each other, rolling their eyes. This was definitely blackmailing material for the future.

That night on Valentines Day, the feast had commenced in celebration of the Goddess of Love. With everyone in the dinner pavilion, Chiron had shared their usual pleasantries, and just like clockwork, finally asked everyone to commence the celebration. Everyone was dressed in their best clothes and eating well tonight, courtesy of the Aphrodite cabin, kids who knew they helped in preparations can finally eat up and pat themselves on the back for a job well done. Couples from different cabins were allowed to eat next to each other, as their single siblings watched in horror and disgust. Burning of offerings had also commenced tenfold, with everyone thanking the Goddess of Love for a very successful day. As the celebration goes on, Y/N sat next to their siblings, half of them sitting with their loved ones, while the rest talk amongst themselves. They sat in the middle, aimlessly picking and playing with their food.

A cough took them out of their state. Clarisse, who was wearing her best red dress, and Silena who absolutely looked stunning in their off-shoulder dress stood next to each other, looking at them. Y/N in turn looked up at them, eyes filled with gloom. “Don’t tell me you’re gonna be like that the entire night, Y/N”.

“And what if I was?” They barked in retaliation. They were in no mood to bicker with the daughter of Ares. They weren’t also in a mood to celebrate this supposed-to-be happy occasion. Why would they? They just lost their best friend and the person they have been yearning for in just a week.

“Well, that’s no good now, is it?” both snicker at each other. They sigh before standing up, back hunched and their arms on the table. “Look, I’m really not in the mood to entertain pranks nor play with matchmakers, no offense Silena” she smiled and nodded back to them.

“Well good news. This is no prank. Silena and I decided that since you’re alone this Valentine’s you could come join us on a little singles bonding.” Y/N raised their eyebrow in suspicion. They had a hunch that whenever these two were together and involved, it wasn’t gonna be pretty. These two, besides them and Clarisse, are partners in crime. And when there’s trouble in the air, Clarisse and Silena are the main culprits.

Y/N sighed however. Despite not being in the mood, they had no plans whatsoever. They were, however, in an entertaining mood. There was nothing to lose. So, they humor them, albeit begrudgingly. They rolled their eyes and looked back at them. “Fine. What do you want me to do?”

The girls smile and jump in excitement. Seeing this commotion, they knew something was up. These two were planning something, and Y/N was mentally cursing themselves for agreeing. There was fire in Clarisse’s eyes, and in the many years they’ve known her, they knew exactly what this look was: Determination. A determined Clarisse was dangerous, that they knew. They would stop at nothing to get things done, regardless if it'd kill her or not. An over exaggeration on Y/N’s part but you get the point. But curiosity was a killer. And well, satisfaction will bring them back.

Silena dragged Y/N away from their table, no one paying mind to them leaving, while Clarisse pushed them forward. They walked and walked until they ended up in the Aphrodite cabin, desolate with no one but themselves. They dragged them to the cabin’s vanity table that was lined with different hair items and products, from hair gel to combs. Aphrodite kids were stacked, and Y/N anxiety never faltered.

“What the hell are you two gonna do to me?” they asked, voice laced with fear. Clarisse’s usual cackle filled the cabin, alongside the sound of a turned-on hair dryer. “Oh c’mon, Y/N liven up. It’s Mom’s Day. I’m giving you a makeover, of course. Courtesy of the entire Aphrodite cabin.” Y/N looked at themselves in the mirror and realized they look utterly horrid. Their hair stuck out in every direction; their eyes red from the constant crying. Eyebags evident from the lack of sleep. Silena was right, They thought. They did look like a mess.

“Think of it as self-care, Y/N. As the Head Councilor of the Aphrodite cabin, we are humbly your fairy godmothers for the evening. I’m gonna make sure you look perfect and stunning. Now. Face the mirror.”

Silena was right. Y/N did look perfect right now. They looked the best they’ve ever been ever since they entered camp, hell, even before they were homeless. One word can describe them right now and it was this: Ethereal. They looked like you could put them in Olympus and no one would be any wiser, no, scratch that, they looked more than just a God. They looked like a celestial being. Silena and Clarisse couldn’t help but gawk at their joint masterpiece and Y/N looked at themselves in the mirror, basking in their appearance.

Y/N couldn’t help it as a tear rolled down their cheek, which Silena tsked before wiping it off. “Someone who looks celestial tonight has no right to cry. Look at you!” Both Clarisse and Silena were now beside them, and they gawked once more at them. Their confidence skyrocketed ten-fold, and by God they didn’t think they were even capable of looking like so. They looked at both Clarisse and Silena, nodding at them, eyes closed, feeling ever so grateful for their job tonight. But they knew the night wasn’t over, and without hesitation, Clarisse took their hand and led them out the cabin.

It was a short walk and before they knew it, they reached the lit gazebo. Y/N’s eyes sparkled as they stared in awe at the decorations that littered it, fairy lights in little jars, red and white clothes draped at the roof of the gazebo. Food was on the rose petal decorated table, with a beautiful table setting with handkerchiefs folded into swans. But that wasn’t the only thing that was in there. A curly haired boy sat on one of the tables, dressed in a suit, looking down and twiddling with their thumbs. Luke. They thought.

All the happiness they felt have now dissipated, and fury once again taken hold of them. “What the hell is this?” They spat venom, and the pair couldn’t help but flinch in retaliation. Looking up, Luke saw Y/N, and he couldn’t help but gawk at them. Luke had always known Y/N was ethereal, but with Silena and Clarisse’s help, they were all of a sudden out of this world. It was as if Y/N embodied Aphrodite, you can even say moreso, however you wouldn’t catch Luke saying that aloud. All the gawking Luke did however, was ruined when they saw their face. They were infuriated. Angry that they were tricked by Silena and Clarisse. Angry at him.

Luke wasted no time and made a beeline towards Y/N. "What is he doing here?” Y/N asks Silena and Clarisse, and the duo stayed quiet, looking at Luke for help. Luke sighs, putting both his hands up near his chest, a sign that he wasn’t there to put up a fight. “Don’t get mad at them, Ease. They helped me. I asked them to trick you. I’m sorry.”

“I told you that I didn’t wanna see you anymore, Luke.” “I know that but please hear me out.” Without saying a word, Y/N began to turn around and walk away. Who wouldn’t be pissed? The last person they wanted to see right now was standing there, whilst they recruited their other friends to basically trick them into seeing him. To say they were pissed was an understatement.

Not wanting for Y/N to leave before he explained himself, he grabs their arm. The touch felt electric to Y/N as they spun around as Luke held them. And for the first time in a while, Y/N’s expression softened. It had been days since the two had hung out, let alone seen each other. The fight had made them more distant than before, and Y/N couldn’t help but yearn for Luke’s touch. As skin contacts skin, his touch made them putty, and all the anger they’ve kept just seemingly dissipated, and there was nothing left but yearning. Painful, painful yearning.

“Please, Y/N hear me out. I promise I’ll make it worthwhile.” Y/N closed their eyes, sighing. Y/N knew Luke was their weakness, it had always been. And as he stood there holding them, all thoughts were officially lost. They nodded, and Luke for the first time in a while had his signature smile plastered on their face.

Luke looks at Y/N’s eyes, enamored as the lights from the gazebo danced in it. The more he stared at their eyes, they felt like a moth drawn to the flame. He could stare at it forever, like how Narcissus looked at his reflection in the water, but Luke had to snap out of it, and finish the hell that he had started.

“Listen, Ease. In the years I’ve lived on this Earth, I’ve recognized just how much I’ve fucked up. I was very much aware of how much I’ve done so. With Hal, with…Thalia.” Luke looked at the ground, tears began welling in his eyes. Y/N, who looked at him with adoration, wasted no time putting their hand on his cheek, guiding his eyes back to them. Luke looks at Y/N, before laughing, tears betraying him as they rush down like a waterfall. Y/N’s expressions softened even more, as they used their thumb to swipe any more tears that dared leave Luke’s eyes. A nod left Y/N, encouraging Luke to continue. The gesture made Luke a little more courageous, as he swallowed, before continuing. “With dad’s quest. I knew how much of a fuckup I was. I was always aware, and for some odd reason, when the consequences of these fuck-ups arise, I just ignore them. Not the healthiest option I know but I just stopped giving a fuck, you know? It is what it is mentality.” As he looked at Y/N, he took their hands into his, and suddenly yet all at once, it felt exhilarating. Their hand in his felt bright and warm, a feeling both of them never felt before. In that moment, they both seemed to forget all the troubles, trials and tribulations they’ve experienced, and what matters right now were just the two of them, in that moment, a scene like in a movie.

“But seeing you walk away like that with the angriest and furious eyes with tears cascading down your face, I realized something.” He breathes out as his grip on their hands tighten, it was as if at any minute, Luke would lose them, like they would drift away from them, never to be seen again. “I realized that out of all the fuck ups I did, hurting you was the worst one I’ve ever done. In that moment, I realized that making you feel alone and small was the biggest fuck-up I have ever done. For the first time, It felt as if some part of me died that day. Out of all the mistakes I've done in my life, you were the only one I was willing to fix."

Luke adoringly stepped forward more, and the space between them left as if it never existed. Luke moved his hands to their forearm, and in turn they put their hand on his chest. “You, Ease, made me realize that out of everything in my life, you’ve become the only thing I got right. I could forget everything, and you’d still be the only constant I’m thankful the Gods had given me. You're the only one who has seen the reds and the blues of my life and despite everything, you just burned them all up. And you, with all your love for an idiot like me, kissed them goodbye.”

“I’m here to fix things between us, Ease. Let it be known that I’m not willing to give you away that easily. Not in this lifetime. Not in the next. So please, I hope you forgive me.”

Y/N, upon hearing Luke’s words, couldn’t help but allow the tears to fall from their eyes. Overwhelmed with emotions, they wasted no time putting their arms around him, sobbing as they cling on to him, scared that they might fall away from them. It took Luke a minute before wrapping their arms around them as well, swinging them back and forth as the pair laughed and giggled in each other’s presence. Tears and smiles were shared amongst the pair, and Luke, smitten in love, broke the contact first, his hands on Y/N’s waist. The pair basked at each other’s presence with adoration, as they stood there, foreheads touching. Y/N’s hands crept once again to Luke’s face and in that moment, as they looked at each other, time stood still, silence washed over them. “Ease, I promise you, you won’t regret it.” He giddily smiles at them, and they chuckle.

“I know I won’t.” Y/N replies. Luke leans in, and in sync, their lips move against each other. The pair melted in each other as Y/N placed their hands on their neck. Y/N’s lips were soft. Luke thought. And a smile crept into his lips as his dreams of what their lips felt like on his was now in fruition. Electricity filled the air as the two savored each other, apologies and I love yous passed back and forth with each kiss. It was invigorating, the pair thought. He parts his lips for them, allowing each other to explore and satiate the hunger they had for each other. Their hands slipped into his curly hair and in turn, Luke pulled them towards his body more.

They broke apart after a few minutes, the two catching their breath. As they looked at each other, a sudden boom made their heads snap towards the sky. Red and white lights danced in the sky, covering the entire valley with the Love Goddess’ colors. The two looked up at the sky in adoration as they held onto each other, Luke’s head on their shoulder as they laid their head on his, with Luke’s arms around their waist and their hands resting on top of his.

Silena and Clarisse watch on as their friends bask in each other’s presence, and in turn they look at each other. Clarisse held out a hand, and Silena couldn’t help but groan as they fished in their pockets, placing a few drachmas on the God of War’s child's palm. Clarisse nodded a thank you to Silena, before both of them left to give the two some deserved privacy.

Never in the million years Luke would think the Gods would give him someone, let alone a person who loved all of him. Y/N, his North Star, his tether, his world. He didn't expect them, out of everyone, to now be in his arms, fully embracing the feeling they had for each other that they were so afraid to admit before. Now, as his name fell from Y/N’s mouth, he smiles as he basked at the moment, silently thanking the Gods for this one. And maybe, just maybe he thinks, he can forget about why he hated the Gods in the first place.

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