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calicoups · 6 months

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౨ৎ sweater — csc

synopsis when missing seungcheol turns into you wearing his sweater and socks. pairing seungcheol x fem reader genre fluff word count 1.3k hani’s note cheol calls reader baby, sweetheart and doll. this idea literally just came into my brain because of me taking a sweater out of my wardrobe…inspo by this reel btw hehe!

his sweaters smell like him. like fresh laundry but also a strong masculine scent. it’s comforting, as if seungcheol is all around you. whenever seungcheol isn’t around, you wear his clothes — whether that be his silly looking socks with characters on them, his shirts or his sweaters — and in a sense, they’re grounding, warm and not to mention so cosy. which is why you lay in bed with his sweater. but now your feet are cold. so, you get out of bed for the top drawer, bracing yourself for the cold biting at your feet and face. at the sight of a folded pair of shark print crew socks (seungcheol’s favourite), you jump back in bed and pull the socks on.

a cold draft sneaks in from somewhere and into the bedroom where you’re laying. every few minutes, you’re wiggling around in the blankets you’ve wrapped yourself in, trying to gain as much heat as possible. that draft is beginning to provoke agitation in you and you wonder if you even closed all the windows.

there is no way you’re going to get up (again) to check in this cold, though. you had switched the radiators on, surely you’ve closed all windows and you had closed the doors to rooms that weren’t in use. this was all in an attempt to keep the heat in because you were starting to freeze.

the clock reads 10:18 PM, seungcheol isn’t home yet. he had shouted a quick ‘don’t wait up, sweetheart!’ before he had left in the morning and yes, you weren’t going to wait for him at first but god, you miss him so bad right now. you don’t think you could fall asleep without seeing him first.

reaching out of the blanket for the remote, you decide that the best thing to pass the time with is to watch something. so, you switch on the tv and flick through before settling on whatever seems interesting enough to hold your attention until seungcheol arrives home.

multiple yawns had left your mouth by 11:06 PM, seungcheol was still not home. you begin to doze off after a few minutes, eyes fluttering closed every few seconds before you open them wide and squeeze them to stay awake.

a key turns in the lock, it reaches your ears and has you alert. seungcheol’s keys jangle and you know that the jangling sound is the little batgirl keychain colliding with the wall as seungcheol plugs the guitar key into the wall mounted key holder (your keys held a batman keychain — seungcheol had bought these for you both, opting to have each other’s characters).

as seungcheol sets his coat in the closet near the front door and his shoes on the wooden shoe rack, he turns around and almost goes to slump onto the couch when he catches you staring at him through the open bedroom door.

seungcheol tilts his head a little and smiles at you, “i thought i had told you not to wait up, sweetheart.”

“i know but i wanted to wait for you.” you watch as he walks out of eyesight and hear the tap run, a glass filling up with water. seungcheol walks into the room as he takes a sip from the glass and then takes a seat on the edge of the bed next to you, the glass hanging from his fingertips where his forearm rested on his thigh.

“you missed me? oh, my baby,” he coos and lifts your hand to his lips and gives it a quick peck. he gulps down another sip of water and there is half left which he gestures for you to drink the rest, “all this waiting for me and i bet you haven’t even hydrated yourself, silly girl.”

you shake your head as the water runs down your throat, “not true, i am so hydrated!”

“really?” seungcheol’s lips twitch, trying not to smile as he notices your dry lips. his hand holds your jaw and his thumb is on your bottom lip, “why are your lips chapped, then?”

at this, your tongue darts out to lick at your lips, “what do you mean?”

seungcheol shakes his head, he reaches for the vanity table drawer and takes out a lip balm. its cherry flavoured, his favourite. you set down the glass on the bedside table.

his hand tilts your chin and applies the lip balm to your lips and oh, that concentrated look on his beautiful face. lips parted, eyes shining and focused on your lips, trying so hard to not get the balm anywhere other than your lips.

and when he’s done, he asks you to rub your lips to together so that the balm is spread evenly. he watches you intently as you follow his instructions.

seungcheol carefully moves your head around (at this point, you’re just letting him do whatever, it’s endearing to watch him do things like this) to check that the balm hadn’t smudged anywhere else then he lets go, “there, all done! now, make sure you drink a lot of water if you don’t want chapped lips, okay?”

you nod your head slowly as a response and he gets up to put the lip balm away. seungcheol turns around and squints at you, “are you wearing my sweater?”

“huh? yeah, it was getting cold and also, i missed you,” you explain, “wearing your socks too!”

he looks at the end of the bed where you stick out your feet from the blanket, “you can have all of my sweaters and socks if you look that adorable in them, doll.”

the nickname makes your heart skip a beat. doll. it sounds lovely coming from his pretty lips.

seungcheol smiles and you reach for his hands which he gives. you tug with all the strength you have to quickly press your lips to seungcheol’s, pulling back with an audible ‘mwah’ and you make sure that the lip balm he applied had transferred to his lips too.

seungcheol’s dimples form on both cheeks as he laughs with his gummy smile. full cheeks become rosy and seungcheol shrinks a little in his place. every time you pull your little ‘mwah’ trick, seungcheol gets so shy and you love it. you adore his shyness.

“you’re so silly,” seungcheol ruffles your hair, “i’ll go get changed, be right back,” he pinches your cheek and leaves the room.

when seungcheol re-enters the room, you immediately raise a corner of the blanket to invite him over. he climbs onto the bed, except not next to you. seungcheol hovers over you then lowers himself down onto your chest, his legs between yours and his arms going under yours to hug you.

your heart melts at the sight of his head on your chest, being able to feel his chest rising and falling against your own and his hair tickling the base of your neck which you run your hand through, giving him a slight massage. reaching for the blanket you threw to the side, you pull it over both your bodies to stay warm.

“good day at work, cherry?”

seungcheol’s chest vibrates as he hums, “yeah, and jeonghan dragged me to dinner and he paid, can you believe that? i mean, he always ‘forgets’ his wallet at home!”

seungcheol’s after work stories never fail to make you giggle. it’s the way he tells them with big eyes and even acts them out sometimes.

after the laughter stops from both of you, seungcheol speaks up again, “but i’m tired after that. i would have been home earlier to cuddle with you but jeonghan…” he laughs again, “he wouldn’t let me go! now, i just wanna lay like this with you.”

“yeah? i got you, i’m right here,” you rub his back under the blanket and seungcheol moves his head to kiss your collarbone.

a few minutes later, you’re positive that seungcheol has fallen asleep with the way he becomes heavier and heavier the deeper he sleeps — you feel like your hugging an actual bear — so you give him a quick kiss to his forehead and hold him closer to you before dozing off just after him.

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idlerin · 1 year

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NONSENSE

an oikawa tooru social media au

pairing. celebrity!oikawa tooru x f!reader

synopsis. you were oikawa tooru’s #1 fan, until you became his #1 hater. you hated him so much you went viral on twitter (accidentally) and literally became known as “the oikawa tooru hater”, doesn’t help that he keeps fueling the fire by subtweeting you. everyone is all in for this new drama. what isn’t known to the public, is that this particular drama’s been on hold for three years (him being your ex and all).

tags. social media au, celebrity smau, college au, exes to lovers, second chance romance, idiots in love, crack, humor (hopefully), fluff, and perhaps a little angst? ehe (groveling !!)

warnings. time stamps dont really matter unless i say so, cursing, some drinking alcohol n stuff and sometimes suggestive but nothing graphic

status. completed (01/15/23 - 02/11/24)

— playlist.

teasers

teaser 1 — teaser 1.5 — teaser 2

profiles

[name]’s pe(s)ts | in need of medical attention

episodes !

(⚘) — has narrative parts

ACT I

01. rid me of my despair

02. murder is ethically wrong

03. he’s literally everywhere

04. i’m NOT petty (⚘)

05. i think i’ve seen this film before

06. he’s back !

07. baby girl of all baby girls

08. the famous friend

09. forget me not

10. why are you running!? (⚘)

ACT II

11. blast from the past

12. i despise you (⚘)

13. villains are hot (⚘)

14. adulting and other important stuff (⚘)

15. what we look forward to

16. a nightmare dressed like a daydream

17. antithetical girlie

18. this is the tactic (⚘)

19. honey it hurts (⚘)

20. exes and ohs

21. takoyaki cravings

22. kill me with kindness

23. tell me, tell me (⚘)

24. do you think about me?

25. wish u were sober (⚘)

ACT III

26. you look like shit (⚘)

27. a taste of fame

28. reminds me of

29. helpless, breathless (⚘)

30. oh how you woo me

31. all over again

32. disconnected

33. this love is so illogical

34. don’t care if you ruin me (⚘)

35. hate clingy men

36. need you like oxygen (⚘)

37. media craze

38. hard to love (⚘)

39. coming home

40. only your love

EPILOGUE

41. new friends

42. love languages

43. utterly nonsensical

end

✦

bonus content

post break-up [name]

don’t you know that i’m intoxicated !

you said you liked the way i spoke

unsent letter #1

one of the boys

kuroo being a menace for 12 panels straight

kodzuken mayhem

taglist is CLOSED !

to be REMOVED from the taglist you can just send an ask or comment :)

notes. hey so i’m starting my first smau series?!!? *squeals and kicks feet in excitement* i hope i get to finish it lmao i plan to not make it that long prolly around only like 30 chaps! hope u’ll enjoy reading it as much as i’ll enjoy making it! also thank you everyone for 200 followers! i rlly appreciate it <3

icons used as pfps are not mine but the content of this smau is. please do not repost this on any other platform. © idlerin 2023

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tadpolesonalgae · 7 months

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Can’t Bring Myself To Hate You - Part 10

Pairing: Azriel x Third-Oldest-Archeron-Sister!Reader

A/N: Well, buckle up I guess

Warnings: Plot™️, I know clocks are canon but it still feels weird to do this, starting heavy 💪

Word Count: 6,012

-Part 9- -Part 11-

He sighs.

It’s not like she can help the way she is. Not like she can help the fact that whenever she tries to make things better it simply creates more work for him to do. By receding into her room, he has to pay more attention to when she appears, becoming extra vigilant in the moments she steps outside.

He shouldn’t be so harsh. Sometimes fatigue clouds his judgement, enough so it becomes apparent to even himself sleep is a necessary luxury. Still, they’re harmless behaviours really. Small habits that with the right guidance will enable her to flourish again.

A broken bone that needs to be left to set, to be good as new.

6:57 p.m.

Azriel massages his temples, the beginning aches of a headache making themselves apparent. Eases in a breath, counts, and releases. It seems a night of rest is unavoidable, but there’s so much to be done. He could perhaps rearrange breakfast…but that would collide nastily with training. Maybe moving lunch to three instead? But then that would impact the start time of going though the towering stack of reports, which would in turn result in him working later anyway.

Thick brows narrow as he prowls silently down the hallway of the River House, deciding to leave for some peace and quiet. It’s not an idea he’s keen on, but if he dips out of practice with Cassian atop the House of Wind tomorrow…that would work. Frustration simmers in his knuckles, tightening the trapezius. He doesn’t like the idea of skipping over valuable training time with the priestesses. They’re forcing themselves out of their comfort zone. The least he can do is respect their resolve by attending.

He’s so caught up in thoughts of schedule and routine he only realises she’s in the River House, on the same floor, when she’s a single corridor away. Another thing he needs to keep an eye on. Swiftly reorganises his thoughts, rotating and recalling the information his shadows have provided over the recent days and hours. The scraps of speculations Mor had offered from a single outing. If he remembers correctly, she will have just gotten back from her trip with Mor now. So why is she here? She should be back up at the House by now, retreating to her room away from everyone else.

Still, he rounds the corner in time to see her click a door closed—her sister’s. His curiosity piques, shadows already recollecting the news they’ve catalogued for the female with soft, cocoa eyes. Gloves still adorn her hands, but it does nothing to conceal their tremor.

Attention narrows in on her, darkness skittering back into the corners of the hallway, hiding between his wings as he approaches. Her lips are chapped and tight, features strained as her gloved hand rests for a moment atop the handle. Appearing in her own world—eyes glazed and vacant. Her jaw is wound tighter than usual, tight enough he can hear the grinding of enamel, like bone and porcelain powdered against rock. Brows draw together at the notice of her waxen complexion, skin gleaming faintly with peaky dew.

Blank eyes flick up to meet his own, and he steps forward. Her hand stiffens on the handle, posture turning rigid. Scent taking on a tang he’s far too familiar with from nights spent with his blade. He comes to a stop, keeping his distance from her taut form.

Azriel’s first thoughts are she must be pushing too hard with her magic. Honestly, he hadn’t anticipated her to be so resolved in mastering her power independently. Neither had he anticipated her making a lick of progress. At least not through measures that a sensible mentor would allow.

He should never have yielded to her look of despair. She’d be safer if he had simply insisted on doing things correctly. A foolish mistake on his part, and now she might be going down the wrong path. “Are you okay?” He asks, splitting his weight equally between each foot, resting in his place. Watches the roll of her throat, shifting in place, away from Elain’s door. Had there been an argument?

She nods her head, trying to straighten her spine as she sometimes does when pulling herself together. The effect is nullified by the was she hangs her head, never quite succeeding in meeting his eye for extended periods. He shouldn’t have ignored it for so long. Leaving something like that unchecked… Well, he should have known better.

“I’m—” She clears her throat, and tries again. “Good. I’m fine.” Nods to herself, eyeing the floorboards with bland eyes. He waits quietly, allowing the silence to coax her into unravelling. She shifts again, stepping away from Elain’s door, her gaze flitting about the corridor. Flicks to the stairs behind him, leading down to the exit—likely wanting to return to her haven up in the House by now.

Eyes regain a little focus, pupils contracting as a nervous smile quirks her mouth, nodding to the door as she makes for the stairs. “We were just speaking,” she elaborates, moving away hastily. “Catching up.”

Azriel watches, noting the briskness of her steps. It’s unusual for her to be so keen to leave his presence. What had happened?

“Wait,” he says, turning as she makes to move past him, peering at the floor, marking her steps. She pauses, gloved hand resting on the carved and polished banister. He steps forward, morbidly intrigued by the glaze in her eyes, as if made of glass. “You aren’t well,” he states. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m fine,” you repeat blandly, “just tired.”

Something bad then, if she’s not willing to even discuss whatever exchange happened with Elain.

Shadows loiter at the threshold, waiting to hear for any sounds that might offer hints, like the soft breath of cries, or the gentle splash of muffled tears. Nothing.

She turns again, descending the stairs, sweeping down the case quietly as she makes a bee-line for the door, vanishing out into the dark, leaving him perplexed and curious. A dangerous combination for the Spymaster.

She’d looked shaken up, so he should make sure things are okay.

It’s been a long while since he last had a one-on-one conversation with the soft-eyed female.

Azriel turns in the hallway, moving back the way she’d come.

8:36 a.m.

“We should talk.”

His words pull you from the world of bliss that had been graciously clouding your mind. Peer down at him from where you’re straddling his lap, pale sheets crumpled, clothes strewn about from being swiftly discarded. “About what?”

Thick, dark brows narrow over piercing golden eyes, full lips twisting down in the corners. Your own features shift to match his, “now, Bas?”

He sighs, large, warm hands splaying across the bruised skin of your hips. “I know, I know, I suck at timing. No need to tell me.” Almost immediately the edges of your lips lift up, a smile tugging at your mouth, vanquishing the momentary surge of annoyance. Fingers lightly press into the softness of his chest, spine losing its rigidity, relaxing your weight back onto him. Feeling slightly dizzy as pleasure sinks into your bones.

“Fine,” you mutter, playfully, “what is it?”

Bas shifts beneath you, thumbs soothing your skin, your back arching as you attempt to still the swirl of your hips. “Two things, actually,” he clarifies reaching higher, a reassuring pressure over your ribcage, rubbing to your waist. Peek down at him, raising a brow, “I wondered why you weren’t giving me a hard time tonight,” —shake your head, smiling slightly— “I should have known.”

He offers a tight smile and your own slips away. “Now you’re worrying me,” you murmur quietly, fingers curling. “What is it?” Golden eyes meet your own, concern shining in their depths, “you’ve been off recently. And I’m worried. So, it’s fine to be emotionally intimate too… Yeah?”

You blink, lips parting in surprise. “I’ve been…off?” Brow furrows in confusion, “what do you mean by that? Am I doing something wrong?” It’s an earnest question, yet it resonates a little deeper than you had expected. Thankfully he doesn’t pick up on the inner conflict. “It’s not that,” he reassures, hands stroking slowly, lightly. “But you’ve worn the same dress the last three times I’ve seen you.”

Internally, you cringe, making to pull away. “Do I smell?” You ask, wincing, bringing your arms to your chest. A slight smile tugs at his lips then, “no.” Relax a little, hands twining as he brings them back to his torso. “But…you taking care of yourself up there?” Sigh, shoulders losing their tension, lips resting into a quirked position.

“I’m fine, Bas. I like it up there, where it’s quiet, and—”

“No.” He interjects gently, hand slipping from yours, pushing a strand of hair from your cheek. Lightly cups your jaw, thumb skimming across the skin. “I mean up there.”

Spine stiffens, fingers freezing. Breath pauses. “Everything’s fine,” you murmur, watching him. He gives a look that urges you to stop lying, squeezing your hands. “Talk to me,” he says in response. “Something’s up. I can tell.”

“Bas—”

“Don’t even try,” he murmurs, golden eyes shimmering as he peers up at you. “I know what that feels like,” he whispers, hand raising to skim your breast, thumb brushing atop your heart. “I know change is difficult.”

“Bas, I don’t want to talk about it.”

Eyes lock, staring at one another.

His hand falls away.

Muscle loosens.

Licks his lips, gaze flitting elsewhere. “I was lonely too, when the attack happened.” Spine softens, brows tightening. Wait silently for him to continue. Licks his lips again, returning to watch you. “Ma… It was hard on both of us, losing pa. Y’know one day he was there, then the next it’s just us.” His throat rolls, eyes glazing as he looks into the middle distance. “We had our own ways of dealing with it—the loss. Mother knows I can’t talk about healthy coping mechanisms, I practically fucked anything that would let me. Probably drank more than I should have, too.”

The attack.

You and your sisters hadn’t yet come here, still mortally human and wonderfully unaware. Well, you and Elain, anyway. Even now, there were still signs of the aftermath. Traces of grief that had yet to be healed.

He shakes his head slowly, limbs turning stiff. “It got… I know what it’s like.” Golden eyes latch to your own. “So talk to me. Don’t keep that—…stuff, to yourself.” Shake your head, breaking the connection, pulling away. “There’s nothing to talk about. Stop prying.” Shake off the heaviness, easing a breath. “What else did you want to talk about?”

His expression is indiscernible, brows dipped, lips tugged down, eyes swirling with molten gold. Shifts beneath you, your hands pressing to his chest to steady yourself as he raises into a sitting position. Moving to be eye-to-eye, hands spanning your waist, gently keeping you still. Fingers brush the concealed muscle of his shoulders, linking at his back, hips winding in gentle encouragement.

A rough-skinned palm settles on the nape of your neck, sliding and gripping your hair lightly. Thumb oscillates over your waist. Calling up loneliness from the pit of your chest. Lips brush your mouth, the slightest caress of hot skin that feels like heated silk and tastes like spices and thyme. He looks like he’s about to try again, but decides against it, instead pulling you forward.

Only you’re taken to the crook of his shoulder, palm cupping the back of your head. His free arm snakes up your back, cradling you to his chest. Keeping you close by. At first you’re stiff, unsure how to react, muscle locks as his skin presses hot to your own, smooth and soft. Warm hands soothe along your spine, gently skimming across the expanse, tracing the knuckles of bone. Fingers draw light patterns atop, oscillating and sketching with reassuring steadiness.

He makes no move to kiss you, just holding you still, the thick locs of his hair scratching softly against the nape of your neck. His arm spans across the back of your waist, hand flattening against your side, thumbing over the skin, soothing you to melt.

Your bones begin to feel heavy in your body, sinking low as you hesitantly raise your arms to lock over his sturdy shoulders, tentatively shuffling to rest your cheek against him. Inhale slowly, deeply, taking in his scent—like rosemary and myrrh. He settles across your skin, and you sink deeper, emotion thawing as you melt into his arms, so tender and soft. Healing and welcoming.

Wet drops splash atop his shoulders, dripping onto dark skin as arms pull a little tighter, squeezing as lips tremble. Spine shudders, soft breaths stuttering as tears trickle down your cheeks, wetting strands of hair as fingers grip closer. Full lips graze your temple, and you feel those small cracks that had emerged during your argument with Feyre begin to spiderweb out, restraint fracturing just a little more.

Lower lip wobbles, and you curl around him tighter, body shuddering with quiet sobs as he holds you. Dry hands wrap into fists, nails biting the flesh of your arms as you fall into him, wanting to be washed away.

To peacefully melt to a place far from memory.

Slowly fade into absence.

2:43 p.m.

The iron-cast ring weighs on your palm, the glittering blue jewel of its swollen abdomen gazing up at you like silver moonlight dripping to dark, gleaming midnight. Polished and sharp like armour and blade.

“Do you like it?” Mor asks from your side, peering over your shoulder. You’d heard her footsteps that time, but shake your head absently, putting the ring back where it belongs. “It’s a lovely piece of jewellery,” you hedge, not wanting to talk badly when the shopkeepers are around. Spiders are still a little too close to home—insects at all, really.

She hums quietly, attention skimming to a piece beside it: a silver band fashioned to the stalk of a flower, the petals looking like stretched out droplets of warm citrine. Mor examines it for a moment, then holds it out for you to look at, which you do. “What about this one?” Fingers mindlessly come up to fumble with the glass pendant at your neck, steadily becoming a habit. “It’s very pretty,” you answer, hoping it suffices. Mor hums again, seemingly getting the hint, returning it to sit on the counter.

“You liked the dress, didn’t you?” She asks, quietly. Brows dip together as you turn in her direction, cascading golden hair loosely tied back. “I mean you wanted it. Not just because I was pushing you to get something.” A beat of quiet passes, and you examine her expression: the edges of plush and pillowy lips lengthened by slight worry lines, brow marginally dipped in the centre. Minute shifts in features that would have gone undetected by human eyes.

Throat rolls as you look away, but nod. “I did like it,” you mumble, fumbling your words, “do like it. Thank you.”

“Have you worn it yet?” She asks. Dread ices your skin, eyes flitting to honey warm irises. “I— No…” you manage honestly. Look away, scanning the jewels, that blue spider again catching your attention. “It’s a special dress,” you murmur, “I was waiting for a special occasion.”

More quiet beats between you, background chatter buzzing through your mind. But then she nods, accepting your answer. “It looks nice on you,” she replies, picking up a necklace this time—a thin chain of gold that shimmers beneath the daylight streaming in from the windows. Dip your head in silent thanks.

Peer out into the streets, watching fae pass by, enjoying their lives. Spots of colour splashing along as they go about their day. Eyes mark a small shop across the road, stools holding little trinkets like cups and pottery spilling out onto the cobbles, ceramics gleaming beneath the lowering sun. Plants sway in the crisp breeze outside, the nippy winds of early autumn already setting in.

Ease in a steady breath—there’s less than a week left until you’re due to complete your side of the agreement, and only small bits and pieces of progress to show. Not enough to avoid bringing it up to the rest of them.

Glance at Mor from the corner of your eye, watching through your peripherals as she holds up a necklace to herself, peering into a mirror. How would she react if you told her right now? She’d probably smile and tell you that’s great. Maybe ask you to show her or give a demonstration. The breath releases, knowing that question will crop up eventually. Seeking results when you have none to provide.

“Are you coming to dinner tonight?” She asks breaking you out of your wondering. Blink, pulling yourself back down, having forgotten about the extra supper they’d decided to fit in. Shake your head, turning your attention back to the jewellery stand, then flitting out to the shop. “I’m feeling pretty tired,” you reply quietly, “so I don’t think so.”

“Sure?” She says absently, already having moved onto the next stand. “The food’s really great—pork that practically comes part on your tongue. And the jam that goes with it is absolutely mouth-watering,” she dreams, smiling faintly as her fingers scrunch with anticipation. Your nose wrinkles for a split-second before you shut off the reaction, offering a bland smile, “how lovely.”

“You must try it at some point,” she gushes, turning to you now, accessories forgotten. “It’s one of my favourite places in Velaris. All the dishes they serve are,” —her hand flexes, as if trying to grasp onto something, eyes briefly shutting in bliss— “amazing.”

You smile again. “I’m sure.”

Warm-honey eyes narrow on you, examining the set of your expression. “You liked the soup,” she says, “what else do you like?” Throat rolls and you shift on your feet, fumbling. “Mash?” Mor nods slowly, remaining silent; in doing so forcing you to speak, too awkward to allow it to continue. “With thyme… Beans are nice, too?” She continues her bout of silence, quietly watching you. “The rice and…sauce. That’s been nice. Very nice.”

Her brows squish together, tension coiling in your stomach and shoulders. Lick your lips. “The—…” You pause, not knowing the name of the food. “The doughy balls? With…mushroom? in the middle? With—”

Eyes pop open. “You don’t eat meat.”

“I eat meat,” you say, hurriedly, but she’s in her own world.

“That’s why Az—” Her hand smacks up onto her forehead and you internally cringe—was the coddling that noticeable? To everyone but you?

“Why didn’t you say anything?” She asks, a mix of shock and exasperation lining her tone as she stares at you. Throat rolls and you turn away from her, picking up the silver band with the citrine-coloured flower. “I can eat meat just fine,” you mutter quietly, “it’s not as though there was anything else.”

“There was the soup,” she argues, still facing you, “you could have asked me to pass it to you—I even had some for myself.”

“No, I mean—” —eyes lock, her brows risen in confusion, not accusation. You sigh, shaking your head. “Sorry. Forget I said anything…” Her neatly groomed brows dip, head tilting ever so slightly. “No, what were you going to say?” She asks, voice quietening. Glance at her sidelong, fiddling with the ring in your hand, sliding it on and off your gloved little finger—far too large for it to possibly get stuck on. Lick your lips, spinning the band as you fidget. “I just mean, it’s basically all we ate back then,” you mumble, peering at your feet with forced interest. “Just brings back some bad memories, is all. Nothing I can’t deal with.”

She sighs softly, and guilt tightens your stomach, putting the now-warm ring down, listening to it clink on the glass. “You don’t like meat,” she states. It’s not a question.

“I can eat it,” you counter quietly, not wanting to be a bother. You’ve seen how much the others enjoy it. “But you wouldn’t choose it,” she returns, keeping her body open as she faces you. Shift on your feet, “I… No.”

Mor nods, hair glinting like freshly spun straw beneath a summer day. “Then we can eat somewhere else. Or order different dishes,” she reasons smoothly, “I’ll just mention it to the others since none of us even knew. Well, I suppose Az—”

“Please don’t,” you interrupt, cringing internally. “It’s fine. Meat’s good for you and I shouldn’t be so picky anyway. It’s annoying.”

“To who?” She asks, making you glance at her. “Who does it annoy?” She repeats, seemingly earnestly. “It’s silly to switch restaurants just because of…because of something so small. I can eat when I get back, anyway. It’s fine.”

She looks appalled.

“Mor, please don’t say anything,” you repeat quietly, meeting her eyes, a pained look unknowingly on your features. “I’m fine with how things are. Don’t make a big deal out of it.” Her brow narrows, eyes flicking around the shop, taking in the other customers. “None of us would mind,” she says quietly. “You wouldn’t be causing a problem. We’ll just order more dishes without meat. We don’t have to change places if nobody wants to.”

But you shake your head adamantly. “I can eat when I get home. Please don’t change what you order just because—”

“Why don’t you deserve to eat food you like?” She asks sharply, voice remaining quiet but harsh. Blink at the tone, stiffening briefly before tension uncoils from your muscles. “It’s not like that,” you reply, turning from the display, slowly stepping toward the door. Mor follows beside you, appearing to have lost interest in the surrounding trinkets.

“No?” She asks, glancing at you through her peripherals. “What’s it like, then?”

You pause in the street, feet halting their movement as the question registers. She halts at your side, slowing to a stop, attention turned to you. “Mor, I don’t know how I could possibly put into words…” A heavy sigh escapes from you, shoulders sloping, exhaustion lining your eyes. “Never mind. Forget it.” Spine straightens, continuing heavily across the street to the shop with the little carvings and pieces of glazed pottery.

She follows quietly as you wander toward the stalls, inspecting the bits and bobs on display. Watches you quietly, taking in the ankle-length dress, clunky boots, thick cardigan and scarf. The vomit-yellow gloves. She should at least find another pair with a lighter colour for you. “You know,” she begins softly, a hint of a smile in her tone, “for someone so reserved, I didn’t expect you to be so stubborn.”

Fingers freeze for a moment, reaching out toward a small carving of a woman holding some drooping daisies. Breath catches, before you manage to resume motion, picking up the small figurine. “Sorry,” you mumble, “I don’t mean to be.”

“That’s not a bad thing,” she murmurs. “You’re strong willed. It’ll serve you well.”

But you shake your head in denial. “Feyre’s strong willed. So is Nesta.”

“Do you think Elain is?” Mor asks, holding up a glazed mug she clearly has no interest in. Your brow dips, peering at her, not having anticipated the change of direction. “Why are you asking?”

“She’s been quiet, no?”

Turn your attention back to the woman in your hand, flipping her over to peer at the lines of her dress—swaying in a breeze. I wonder why… You think sardonically. Instead a hum lulls from your mouth, non-committal and vague. Mor nods her head, again picking up those minute hints you’re unaware you’re even capable of dropping.

“That’s a nice carving,” she says brightly, redirecting the conversation without a hitch, smooth fluidity long ago mastered. “Your father was a carpenter, wasn’t he?” She asks softly. “Would you like it?”

Gloved fingers rub the concealed skin of your other hand, knuckles itching for reprieve. Under ordinary circumstances, you would have declined the offer— it looks well carved. Not that you have an eye for such things. This time, however, you can make an exception. “That would be nice,” you answer quietly, “thank you.”

Swallow down the apology that had been slowly making it’s way up from your stomach.

She smiles then, and you look away.

She’s far too bright.

6:49 p.m.

You excuse yourself as soon as you step inside, heading up the stairs and along the hallway before returning to the House of Wind. Walk quietly along the floorboards, hoping to avoid any unnecessary confrontations. Reach the door you’re looking for, landing a series of knocks to the hardwood. “Elain?” You call, listening for a reply. She answers, letting you to come in, voice soft but terse.

The door swings open on oiled hinges, and you step inside, hearing it snick shut at your back. Eyes instantly locate your sister, sat in a large armchair facing the lit fireplace. Curtains are drawn, blocking out what little light remained in the sky, room set aglow with the golden-orange of flame. Cocoa melts to something soft and spicy as she peers into it, and you wonder if she’s perhaps missing Lucien.

“Hey,” you mumble quietly, noting how she seems kind of distant. You can’t help but be reminded of those initial months, the transitional stages of your lives where the world was turned upside down. How she’d shut down almost entirely, rarely speaking. Rarer still to get anything coherent, like she was trapped in a dream state. “I just…I wanted to see you,” you murmur, moving toward her.

Haunted eyes flick up to meet you, blank as they take you in with ghostly smoothness. She blinks and it’s gone, gesturing to a seat opposite from her, closer to the fire but angled for prime conversation. A smile lifts the edges of her mouth, etched with strain, chest stretching as you take in her fatigue.

Sigh heavily, settling into the plush armchair, remaining straight-backed as you put the paper bag at your feet, careful with the little carving. Wait for a beat to pass before looking to her, cocoa already reattached to the fire. “Elain,” you call quietly, gaining her attention. In the light of the flame the circles beneath her eyes are more pronounced, shadow flickering across the heavy crescents. Worry takes root in your gut—it seems to be taking more of a tole on her than you’d thought.

“You went out with Mor today didn’t you?” Elain asks, voice soft and faint, as if coming out of a daze. A shy smile curves your lips, nodding. “How was it?” She asks distantly, gently curled hair hanging in rich ringlets, tight and silky as they spill down the lilac night gown she likes. Throat rolls, turning your attention to the fire. Will this ever be an easy subject between the two of you? Between any of you?

Eyes flit down to the bag, pulling it up into your lap for comfort. “It was good,” you manage softly, nodding. “It was…nice. To be outside. Around someone, for a little.” Elain nods, a bland smile on her face, though you don’t doubt its sincerity. “I—…Mor’s nice,” you add, fumbling your words as you try to direct the flow of the conversation toward what you’re trying to get at. But you’ve never been good at reading the room, and it’s showing.

“You should…I mean, it would be nice for you to come along sometime…” you suggest, trailing off as fingers wring together in your lap, playing with the paper handle of the bag. “We could…I don’t know…” Shift in the chair as you try to think of something. “I’m sure there are some shops for gardening, or somewhere to sample pastries? You’re trying out pastries at the moment, aren’t you?” Eyes flit to your sister, the smile gone from her lips, lids heavy as she soaks in the heat of the fire. Letting it drink her in.

She’s quiet, and it’s obvious something’s off. Or is she just tired? She’d told you she’d been sleeping badly recently, has it not yet gotten better? Run your attention over her supple form, smooth skin over tight knuckles, the lilac of the fabric complimenting her drained complexion, dark circles beneath her eyes making the rich coca of her irises deeper, swirling with thought. They flick to you suddenly, shadow being cast across her delicate features as she turns, as if about to speak.

You look down into your lap abruptly, staring at the little carving. “I miss dad,” you blurt out quietly, the words being hauled up your throat, spat out into the air.

Elain stiffens in your peripherals, and your lips press together tight. Heart heavies, shoulders no longer being held taut as you begin to drown into the cushion. “I know…” you begin quietly, thoughts eddying away once you try to grasp for them. Just stare at the maiden holding the drooping daisies. “I was thinking about him,” you say quietly, managing to keep your voice somewhat even. “Earlier, when I was out with Mor,” you clarify, reaching into the bag.

Push the paper apart, reaching for the female figurine. Fingers brush the smooth wood of the carved figure, the pads able to sense the very grain with heightened nerve endings. She’s hewn from a darker material, deep brown and riddled with smooth and polished knots, creating a labyrinthine twist of swirling lines and wrinkles. It was probably once a beautiful piece of trunk, carried from a forest to a carpenters shop, whittled away until the figure emerged.

“I want to speak with you.”

You look up, hand stilling, fingers grasping the carving. Maybe…you’ve learned in the past it’s better to let someone else lead the conversation. Yours don’t seem to go anywhere unless the other is interested in a continuation.

“Okay,” you murmur, releasing the statue, pulling free as you return the bag to your feet, set aside so you can deliver her your full attention. “What is it?”

Elain blinks slowly, and hairs rise on the back of your neck.

“Elain?” You encourage, no more than a whisper.

For a long moment she won’t speak, just watching intently, as if she can see through you and is examining the sub-atomic structure of your soul, down to the bits and bobs between. Stiffen as cocoa bores into you, looking far older than should be possible as the flame flickers dully in muted brown. Throat rolls, trying to maintain the connection, letting her know you’re there. She’s been around for you; it’s the least you can do.

The contact breaks, her lids closing briefly, gaze returning to quietly observe the fire. Taking in its motion—how the heat wells, practically rolling from the hearth to the rugged floorboards. “There’s been something…” Elegant brows dip almost imperceptibly, the edges of her delicate mouth quivering, lips parted on a syllable. Close again, as if the words won’t suffice for what she’s trying to say. The fire almost seems to match her, growing more intense as she stares into it, shadows darkening as they writhe across the walls, like the wings of a great creature.

“I haven’t been sleeping well,” she murmurs absently.

Worry sparks across your chest but you say nothing, allowing her to articulate her thoughts at the pace she wishes.

Cocoa returns to you, the colour of conkers—you can picture them sitting cozily among the branches of a dense forest, perfectly in place. “I need you to be calm,” she says firmly. “Can you do that for me?” Brow narrows in confusion, attention fading form your body as it’s directed to your older sister, posture lithe but firm. Sitting with the preternatural stillness of the fae, and something more… Something beyond what even…

You nod—as if your voice might break whatever she’s fallen into. Might cause a change in mind, your chance to comfort her lost. She stares for a moment longer, quiet and observing. An unwelcome itch builds beneath your knuckles, but you push it away, attention solely on your older sister. Her pupils seem to be the wrong size, as if you’re something far off in the distance that she’s struggling to focus on. Her posture relaxes, silently settling into the depth of her armchair, as if it might hold her together.

“Sleep has been difficult as of late,” she murmurs, eyes locked to yours and you find yourself unable to look away. She keeps herself still; poised; refined. Even in the undress of her lilac night robe, she’s collected, but there’s something off tonight. You nod in understanding—sleeping can be difficult. Especially after the war.

“Have you been taking care of yourself?” The question pulls from your lips before it’s fully formed in your mind. A faint smile sharpens her mouth—hairs prickling at the nape of your neck. Cocoa blinks, and the sharpness has faded, settling into the familiar gentle curve that makes Elain herself. “I’m perfectly fine,” she replies quietly, though her voice is strained. Eyes again run over you, weighing. Again you keep still, enduring the assessment.

Tongue peeks out to wet her lips, shadows flickering across her face as she shifts in her seat. “I’ve been trying some different tonics,” she admits quietly. “Chamomile, root ginger, valerian…they work fine, and I end up falling asleep swiftly.”

A dull wave of relief washes through your system, like a cool balm to desiccated skin. “I’m glad, ‘Lain,” you say softly, happy she’s found a remedy. But Elain shakes her head solemnly, shadows growing darker, weighing beneath her eyes. “It’s not…I’m not struggling with sleep,” she whispers, as if the walls are sitting in on the conversation. Eyes flit about, and your brows narrow. She’s being shifty. “Maybe we should have this conversation in your room,” she murmurs to herself, fingers massaging her temples.

“Elain…” you interject quietly, worry lacing your tone, “are you okay?” Eyes flick to you, heavy with gravity. “I told you, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” You press gently. Could she have been sold another kind of herb? “You don’t seem fine…” She waves her hand dismissively, as if physically able to bat the thought away. She exhales heavily, staring again into the fire. Deep into the flames, like she can see to the other side.

“Chamomile, valerian, send me to sleep fine. It’s just not—” She cuts off, searching for the word. “They don’t send me deep enough,” she murmurs, a slight tremor in her voice. “What do you mean?” You ask, shifting toward her in your seat. Eyes snap to you with the movement, brows curving in a look of…

Fear.

You pull back, comprehending. Lean forward, on the verge of standing to cross the room to be at her side again. Like you were for those initial months. “Elain, what’s wrong?” You repeat, anxious to assuage her anxiety however you can.

“They’re back,” she whispers hoarsely. Fingers tremble in her lap, lightly gripping the lilac of her skirts to calm herself. “It’s the same thing again and again,” she manages, staring at you from across the hearth. “I see you at the edge of a forest with the wolves, traveling with the fox, ending with the…” She shakes her head. Steadying her breathing. Calming her nerves.

“There’s a flash of light—light like starfall, except it itches. Itches and burns. And then he’s down, and bleeding, and—”

“Elain, slow down,” you interrupt, standing from your seat as you hurry to her side, fingers linking with her own to soothe the trembles. Crouch before her, clasping her hands in you own gloved ones. “I don’t understand,” you say, staring up at her. “What are you talking about?”

Cocoa drains, dark and haunted.

“They’re back,” she whispers. “The visions.”

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#azriel x reader #azriel angst #a court of thorns and roses #acotar #Azriel acotar #a court of silver flames

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ninaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa · 2 months

Text

I Miss You, I’m Sorry.

𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗹𝗲𝘀 𝘅 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 ! 𝗔𝘂𝗿𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗯𝘀𝗳

𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴: mentions of death/ loss, ilnesses, crying, fluff i guess?, angst.

𝗦𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆:Charles has always seen you as his litte brother’s annoying best friend. What happens when you both grow up and he starts realizing things too late..

𝗗𝗶𝘀𝗰𝗹𝗮𝗶𝗺𝗲𝗿: the plot is of based off of Gracie Abrams’. song, I miss you, I’m sorry. It may be off but use your creativity. I don’t see the song as two exes missing each other in this story. I used it bc the lyrics are definitely relevant to multiple situations. Might be a multi chap, but i’ll try to keep it short for my own sanity.

enjoy!

———————

From the innocent age of three years old, Y/n and Arthur have been attached at the hip.

Literally.

When they started first grade, they were put in two different classes. Clearly very upset with it, they forced the eldest Leclerc sibling, Lorenzo, to super glue their pants together. They walked , or tripped, into the school grounds the next day, smiling proudly at each other and their questioning teachers.

Their mothers obviously thought it was adorable and played along. Thought the bond was beautiful and a gift. That said bond never died. The little things keeping it alive.

Like how Arthur would tell Y/n how smart she was every time she helped him with a math question.

Or how Y/n would always tell Arthur that he’d be a World Champion when he’d discovered that just like his older brother, took an intrest in racing.

Arthur would help Y/n tie her shoes and Y/n would fix Arthur’s hair before he went to talk to a girl.

Y/n would stay up late in a cold and busy garage waiting for Arthur to finish doing laps around the track, being proud of his result and effort, not actually caring where he ended up.

Arthur would sit with a crying Y/n, comforting her when her anxiety got the best of her. Her choice in men not helping, but he’d never blame or judge her for it.

Arthur was always there for Y/n to lean on and Y/n the same for Arthur.

And for a while their mothers schemed, waiting for the moment they got together.

That suspicion changed completely when the pair were four teen years old. It completely vanished that one day in April when Y/n’ s mother died. Sat in the hospital with tears in her blue eyes, Y/n takes in the news of her mother’s passing due to leukemia. Arthur, almost as broken as the girl next to him, took her in his arms as they both sobbed.

Pascal, although absolutely crushed, observed the two. No eye contact, no tight grip, just two people leaning on each other for support.

When the little girl’s name got called, she looked up with big eyes. Pascal watched as the brunette girl was taken into her other son’s arms. She payed attention to the way Y/n gripped onto Charles’ sweater and neck, or the way she looked up from her head’s position on his chest to look into his eyes.

And when they were walking back through the white hallways to the car, and Arthur said “You’ll always be my best friend Y/n, I might have a girlfriend, but i’ll never leave you.” Pascal got her confirmation that the two kids weren’t in love, well at least not with each other..

Arthur had his middle school girlfriend and Y/n had.. well, a crush on Charles. The middle Leclerc.

A big crush.

The crush blossomed, just like Arthur and Y/n’s friendship, from the small things.

The way Charles would only throw Y/n with a piece of food at the dinner table and nobody else. It was probably just him making fun of the one person who wouldn’t stand up for themself, but 10 year old Y/n obviously saw it as Charles’ way of showing his affection.

Years down the line she would still smile over the way Charles would hear Y/n crying to Arthur and then ask her if she needed anything the second she came into his view.

The way Y/n’s stomach would fill with butterflies as Charles smiled at her from the podium.

He would buy her, her favorite candy when they go on trips, knowing her blood sugar gets low quickly.

They would fight about the dumbest things, but then Y/n would try to flirt with him ten seconds later.

He would stay awake at night, waiting for Arthur and Y/n to come home after going to a party, his excuse always being that he was waiting to show Arthur something, that he didn’t know that the girl would be with him, but he knew. He always did.

Despite all of it, Charles wasn’t interested. Amused and slightly more egotistical? Yeah, sure. But teenage Charles definitely thought he was too old for the girl and in all honesty too cool.

As they got older and Y/n got more confident, she started to try connecting with Charles, never succeeding, as she got the same excuse every time. “I’m too old for you.”

And maybe he was, she was 16 and he was about to turn 19. His other excuse was that he was very busy with racing. Driving in Formula 2 and trying to get to Formula 1.

Despite it, Charles owned her heart through it all, he even broke it a few times.

—

It was a beautiful day in Monaco and Arthur had invited Y/n to join the Leclerc family on the ocean, sailing across the clear waters with their boat.

Arthur brought his new girlfriend, and Y/n thought they were perfect for each other, actually being the one to set them up.

Sitting at the very edge at the front of the boat, looking at the sun setting.

Pascal watched as her middle child left the steering wheel, calling Lorenzo from the deck to take over.

She watches with intent as he takes off his hoodie and walks to the girl she would call her own and sit next to her.

The woman could see Y/n scoff at his offer, but ultimately agree to taking the piece of clothing.

“How are you?” Y/n asks him, looking at the sunset.

“Good, finally signed the contract, now I just have to follow through with it.”

“Can’t believe you’re going to be in Formula 1 next year.” you almost scoff in disbelief at it all.

“You’ve made it, Charlie.”

He looks at her with that sentence, staring deeply into her eyes. The eyes he’s looked into so many times, each time they’re just as pretty.

He turns his head again, both of them sit in silence, their presence speaking for its self.

“You miss her?” Charles asks, breaking the silence with a question that caused a chill to grow up Y/n’s spine.

“Ever day.” She simply replied.

She turned her head slightly, to be met with Charles staring at her deeply.

Y/n laid her head on his shoulder, sighing out.

“I’m too old for you, you know and with my career taking off.. it’s never going to happen, Y/n.”

“Whatever you say, Charlie. We’ll see.”

“I’m being serious.” He takes a brief pause, stuttering like he’s trying to come up with an excuse after being caught doing something wrong. “I don’t want to hurt your feelings. Arthur would kill me.”

“Hm, he would, wouldn’t he?” Y/n smiles at the thought of her best friend.

Back to Formula one though..

When he got his seat with Alpha Romeo, the whole family was ecstatic. Everyone celebrating, despite finding out the tragic news that Hervé, the boys’ dad was once again ill.

A year later Charles joined Alpha Romeo, as a rookie for the 2017 season. Nearing the Baku Grand Prix, Y/n got woken up by banging on her bedroom door. Outside the door was a frantic looking Arthur, and by the tears welling up in his eyes, Y/n knew the inevitable had came. She comforted Arthur on the way to the hospital, her heart breaking for the boy. Once he calmed down and fell asleep on her shoulder, her dad driving, her head started racing. The only thing going through her mind being if Charles was okay.

When Charles heard the brunette girls’ choked up words to his mother he quickly turned around, once again in the hospital hallway, and immediately met her gaze.

“Charlie, I’m so sorry.” she said, her arms around his neck, his face buried into her hair. For some reason the second she was near he let it all out. All of the frustration, the sadness, the anger and the utter and deep rooted pain.

They went home, the girl joining. As everyone went to bed, Y/n insisted on falling asleep to the tv playing, as she didn’t like the silence filling up her mind. Leaving her space to think about Hervé or how Charles’ arm felt around her waist.

She tried to suppress her feelings day by day. But the second he looked at her with his beautiful eyes or smiled at her she crumbled and fell for her best friends brother all over again.

And just as she was about to fall asleep and stop thinking about him, he walks down the stairs, a suit case in his hand and a tired expression on his face. It could be because of the lack of sleep or the emotional drainage today has caused.

“You really going to get on a plane right now?” she question at his sanity. “Have to.” He replies bluntly. “At four in the morning?” Y/n question once again, a little softer, feeling sympathy for the, very clearly traumatized and exhausted boy in-front of her. “I’m a bit early, couldn’t sleep.” he sighs, falling onto the couch next to her, rubbing his eyes with his right hand, the left one resting on the couch behind her.

“Are you okay?” Y/n brakes the short silence, looking intently at him.

It was silent for about two minutes. That’s what the clock on the wall said. It felt like two hours.

“I have to be. Can’t afford to be distracted.”

“Charles, your father died, you’re allowed to be sad.” the girl said, shocked at his lack of emotion.

“It’s easier for everyone if i’m not, I had a good cry. Now I have to look after Mama’n.”

The brunette girl looks at him, slightly confused why it’s his job to look after his mother when he’s not the oldest, nor the only child.

He sighs once again, looking straight forward at the clock om the wall. “Lorenzo is married and expecting and Arthur’s not only focusing on his racing and getting to F2, but he’s also falling in love, you can hear it in the way the idiot talks about her.” Charles chuckles, slightly annoyed but happy for his brothers and their success. Oh, and how it made you love him even more.

“You deserve love too, Charlie.” Y/n says, looking intently at his reaction form her view of his side profile.

He looks at her. His gaze narrowed slightly and he shook his head as Y/n placed her hand on his shoulder.

“I’m serious, you deserve that support, you deserve to feel excited about seeing someone, you deserve to be comforted and happy and to have fun. You just have to let it in..” Y/n says, hinting at Charles that she was there, waiting for him.

He looks at her again, realizing immediately that they are very much closer than they were a few seconds ago.

“Y/n..” Charles says, looking down at her lips. He was tempted, very tempted. He was confused and sad and saw Y/n as a good distraction. Or at least that’s what he told himself. Y/n tried to make eye contact, but it was impossible when all he could look at was her lips.

So she did the next thing she could think of. She leaned in. Their lips brushed together, she hesitates as Charles looked like he wanted to say something more. “Y/n.. I” Still as close as they were, Y/n’s heart beat out of her chest, so loud she was convinced Charles could hear it. This was the moment she’s been waiting for. She’s been in love with Charles for more than half her life. The thought of him finally feeling the same made her head hurt and her mouth run dry.

“I can’t.”

Two words, those two words she knew she would remember forever, she does to this day, it’s stored in the old and dusty box in the corner of her mind marked with the initials C. L on it.

The next sentence she tried to solve for years and years, that was until she watched drive to survive, and although she got some clarity, it opened the cardboard box in the back of her mind and knocked it over, all the memories spilling out of the box and filling her mind. At that moment she would’ve chosen the silence over the taunting reminder of the childhood and teenage years spent with Charles Leclerc that kept her up that whole night.

One sentence and his closed off mannerism after that, that haunted her conscience, that house and made it so much harder to get over the Monegasque.

“I promised him, I’m sorry.”

Y/n watched the Monegasque take off with tears in her eyes and more than one crack in her heart.

“He’ll come around Y/n, give it the summer.” Said her best friend from the stairs. He sighs, rubbing over his face with a hand. Once again comforting his best friend over a guy treating her like shit. Only this time, he knew she wouldn’t be okay in the morning. He knew it would take a little time for Y/n to get over this one. He knew she’d still love Charles, no matter how good or bad they were to each other.

———————

Now many years later, Y/n is once again supposed to be with the Leclerc’s on a boat. Charles’ boat to be specific. She hasn’t talked, called or seen him since he left that morning, right after completely rejecting the girl.

Charles was excited.

You could even say he’s been waiting for this moment since he saw her skiing with her friends in December three years ago. Because the truth was, he has.

Charles would be lying right out of his ass if he said he didn’t miss his brother’s bestest of friends. She and Arthur were still extremely close, despite hearing that she took off for a few months after that night in the living room.

It’s been three and a half years since that, and Charles has regretted it ever since. He gets sick to his stomach thinking about it, thinking about hurting Y/n. Because deep down he cared more for her that he would admit.

It did make him focus more on racing. He put his all into it, trying to numb the pain of losing two people at the same time. He has then since signed for Ferarri and waited for the girls call. When it didn’t come he was disappointed to say the least, but understood her view. When drive to survive came out and explained how he promised his father that he got the seat to Ferarri, he thought the girl would understand his need to focus on only that, but when his phone never rang and he never heard her voice he knew she was gone, she was done chasing him. And that hurt him more than leaving in the first place, because he knew everything he knows would bring him back to them.

Bring him back to their arguments. To their laughs, their crys, screams, emotions.

Everything would bring him back to her.

“Y/n?” Charles hesitantly said through his phone, after practically tackling Arthur to get her new number.

“Charles. H-how did you get my number?” Y/n stutters, immediately knowing who’s voice it was through the phone. I mean, how would she not. She’s spent so much of her life imagining that voice utter three little words to her. Three words that didn’t break her heart but instead healed it. But she was older now, and those fantasies weren’t forgotten, but stored very much in the back of her mind in the infamous cardboard box.

“Uh, kind of fought my brother for it.” Charles muttered shamefully.

“Oh, uhm okay. Can I ask why?”

“I miss you, Y/n.” Charles replied almost immediately. Desperate for the girl’s attention.

“Charles.. I-.” She was cut off quickly. “Why aren’t you here? You said you’d be here. Maman is going insane with all the men, she needs you here.” Charles tries to convince her.

“I don’t know, Charles. It’s been a while.” Charles sighs at the absence of his nickname. “So come and we can catch up.” he continues.

“Please.”

It’s silent for a few seconds. It felt like minutes.

“Okay.” is the only thing Y/n says before hanging up. Charles still wanted to talk to her but he figured he could do that when she gets here.

“She’s coming !” Charles yells out to his family as he walks back up to them, sitting himself down on the white couch next to Lorenzo and across from the youngest Leclerc.

Pascal was obviously very happy, Lorenzo giving them all a surprised look. But Arthur, Arthur wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows.

“She’s not seventeen anymore, Charles. She doesn’t have a little crush on you anymore.” Arthur immediately shuts any wrong intentions down, not liking that Y/n agreed to come because his brother, who hurt her, asked her to.

“I know Arth. Don’t worry.”

“I’m not worried you idiot, but you should be if you even think about making a move on her or something.”

Arthur stands up and walks away, completely unappeased with this whole thing. Lorenzo follows.

“ He’s just looking out for his bestfriend, Cherie.” His mother reasons with a angry looking Charles. “I know, i’m just offended he’d think I would hurt her again, now that i’m older and more stable.”

“You still love her?” Pascal questions.

“What?” Charles looks so confused, you could’ve sworn he just saw a flying goat. “Ma cherie, you’re a very stubborn person, but you aren’t stupid.”

Charles stares at his mother, shocked at how well the woman knew him.

“Yes I do still love her.” Charles says, looking down at his feet, deflated by the fact that he couldn’t do anything about his feelings, knowing his brother would resent him and Y/n definitely didn’t trust or care for him anymore.

“I’m sorry, Charles.” Pascal says, standing up to go get another drink, kissing her son’s forehead on her way out.

•••••••••••••••••••••

𝗢𝗞𝗔𝗬 𝗧𝗛𝗔𝗧 𝗪𝗔𝗦 𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗧 𝟭.

this is taking lot longer that I expected..

#charles #charles lecrelc #formula 1 #smut #art #fanfic #arthur leclerc #charles leclerc #lando norris #max verstappen #carlos sainz imagine #charles leclerc imagine #imagine #part 1

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nyxthejinx · 1 year

Text

Answering to this desperate cry for help

Maaan this was so much fun fr, i hope I made these bad boys justice. Also, didn't know what kind of format I should be using and especially how to repost the original thing, since copying and pasting on the reblog would be absolute hell rip

𝐓𝐖: people biting each other but in an affectionate way, idk lemme know if there's more

𝐅𝐭.: Dottore, Xiao, Childe - GN!Reader

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.1k (in total)

𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨: 3rd Made in Abyss soundtrack - Kevin Penkin (yes, it's that good, no comment)

𝐃𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐞

OHOO he's gonna be so intrigued by this weird habit of yours.

We all know he's not big on social interactions and all -he barely values human life- but when you came into the picture he felt invested in someone for the first time. Hence he observes... Normal people, to learn the basics.

He's smart, a quick learner. Will understand in no time your likes and dislikes, but one day you?? Bite him? Chomp like a feral newborn kitten? Oh, his scholar personality spikes through the roof.

Dottore's never seen anyone bite their partner like you do, it confuses him at first, although he won't say anything and just chuckle. He'd rather observe you and come to his own conclusions before asking.

Was it a one time thing? When, how and where do you like to do it? Is there a deeper meaning, a show of intimacy? Need for attention? Affection?

Yeah he'll treat it like a maths equation, that's how he is.

Some days you'd see him without his mask, leaning particularly close to your face. Other times he'd set his gloves aside and let his digits linger on your cheeks and jaw for every little thing. (He knows he’s difficult to bite because of his clothes)

"Oh Dear, look at your lips, they're chapped/full of crumbs/smeared with any other kind of food/every single excuse he can come up with."

It takes you a bit longer than you would've wanted, but you realise his true intentions eventually. If you feel smug you can just chomp on him randomly and see him lose his mind (he thought he'd figured everything out rip dottore.exe).

I advise against it though, he'd repay the torture tenfold. (aka not cuddle with you even if you ask nicely).

Overall, Dottore finds this habit of yours cute. You're a nice little, innocent thing in his eyes and that just adds to your charm.

Yeah you can be a 1.90m tall menace of a person and he'd still tease you, an arrogant, mean jerk >:(

After some time he starts biting you back (ouch shark teeth), not in a painful way ofc. He's so casual with it, most likely to strike when you least expect it just to see your surprised and/or flustered face.

Or to have you chomping in return, even ;)

I'd say 7.5/10, good chomping partner but will "fight" back.

𝐗𝐢𝐚𝐨

My guy, poor guy.

He's another social inept, we all know why.

He started to learn about human customs after meeting you, and you've helped him out a lot, but he's still so stiff.

He probably gets a heart attack every time you give him a surprise hug. The day you chomp on him his soul leaves his body.

It's not that he's a scaredy cat, physical touch just overwhelms his senses if he's not prepared :((

Asks you to tell him beforehand next time.

But aside from that he doesn't seem to mind. He finds every human custom weird in a way, this one is no exception, and eventually it becomes routine yeah?

I think he's a perfect subject for chomping, with all the exposed skin he has. I mean, look at his shoulders! The urge to sneak up from behind and just CHOMP.

He's got muscles for days too, won't shatter your teeth on his bones. AND HIS CHEEKS- his baby cheeks, they look so soft how can you not bite those.

But yeah, just give him some time and he'll get used to this.

Xiao's not stupid either, he notices right away that you're the only human partaking in this activity, or in public at least. Lowkey feels happy and proud to have you as a partner, you're so special and unique :( <33

At some point he'll want to try it out as well, but he's sooo shy about it and a bit scared he'll hurt you. You gotta make him confess with bone crushing hugs.

When he eventually chomps back he's UGHH so soft with it. For Xiao it's more about the meaning and the bonding experience than the chomp itself.

9/10 if you're fine with doing all the chomping. 8/10 if you want chomps back, but definetly recommended.

𝐂𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐞

Run. RUN. RUN FOR YOUR CHEEKS' LIFE.

He is THE chomping menace.

Let me tell ya, you're putting your life on the line. It's like a declaration of war and he will not hesitate to respond with all he's got.

We know for a fact that he's always up for a challenge. If you're crazy enough to engage and bite him first, well I hope you have a survival plan for the rest of your life cus he won't stop.

It can and will escalate in a "fight" if you're in a private space (you know the tickle fights where you become a mess of tangled limbs? That.) If you try that in public though? He's gonna look at you like a damn predator.

He'll eat your cheeks once you get home, good luck.

His bites are rough-ish too, unfortunately for you. He’d never hurt you on purpose, and is always careful with his strength, but in the heat of battle he’ll forget; 7 times out of 10 you leave the field with a 32 teeth bite mark.

I think he is more of a cheek guy than anything. They're always available and easy to reach, regardless of your height, and it's also so intimate because who else touches your face? No one, aside from him.

He's the chosen one.

And don't think it will stop at the first time, no no. You've unlocked a new hobby for him. He'll put so much effort in it, it's terrifying.

If you act surprised or flustered well, bonus points in his opinion. Your face is just priceless and will make a habit to make you react that way.

At that point you either fight back or succumb. His soft spots are his stomach (duh, nibble on the exposed skin when he's in his work clothes, I bet he's ticklish), his nape, collarbones and overall the base of his neck.

The rest of his body is still a good chomping surface, but his instincts kick in and his muscles go taut, it's like biting a rock and has no effect on him.

Childe will definitely give you a hard time. It's up to you to take advantage of the right moment and give him a good revenge chomp.

Honestly, he's my fave ever but I'll give him a 5/10 just because of that. Can't even bite the man in peace anymore 🙄

DON'T copy/repost my work. REBLOG instead! ©nyxthejinx

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brodieland · 2 months

Text

.˚ 𓈒 ࣪.𝝑𝝔 10 Things I hate about you ´ˎ˗

Percy Jackson x Fem!Reader Synopsis: Its the day of the party, and Percy and Y/N have some realizations. Does it go the good way or bad way??? Warning(s): cursing, underage drinking, sex jokes if I may Word Count: 2555 A/N: the urge to add a little bit of a smau was too great I fear😕

╰➤ MASTERLIST pt5

You were currently in your sisters room laying on her bed, thinking about why you even agreed to go in the first place. Silena was currently digging around her closet for something to wear, and let out a groan as she turned toward you.

"Y/N, this one or this one," she held up a pink dress and a nearly Identical slightly darker pink dress.

"Silena, I hate to be the one to say this, but I swear its not this serious," she rolled her eyes as she threw down the dresses and went back into her closet. "I liked the pink one though."

She kept running through her closet before pulling out a black dress, "Is this yours, I don't remember buying this?"

"Hm," you sat up and faced her examining the dress. "Did you not buy this during your secret little 'emo' phase?"

"God don't remind me," you chuckled at her embarrassment. "Suits you though, here. Maybe you can wear it later."

She tossed you the dress and she was right. It did suit you. "Maybe I can."

﹒º. ౨ৎ

＠Y/N2lit ● 20 min

Liked by BeauregardOnTop and others... ＠Y/N2lit: me n my sister a lit asf duo ＠BeauregardOnTop View comments...

＠BeauregardOnTop: ayo emo ass fit?? →＠Y/N2lit: ＠BeauregardOnTop this is ur dress?? but if I brought up ur emo phase suddenly im the villian right? →＠BeauregardOnTop: ＠Y/N2lit oh okay sorry

＠percy2lit: holy skibidi →＠Y/N2lit: WHY DID U CHANGE UR USER TO MATCH MINE →＠percy2lit: wow I didn't even notice🤷🏻‍♂️ →＠Y/N2lit: delete ur acc lil boy

﹒º. ౨ৎ

'Who does he think he is?' You and Silena were still in her room getting ready while she put on her 16th layer of lipgloss.

"Your gonna run out of lipgloss, and you just bought it," you said without looking up from your phone.

"I need to look as good as possible," you had to fight the urge to roll your eyes.

"My god you'll be fine. You would have guys falling at your feet even if your lips were chapped and gross."

She jokingly glared and you chuckled, suddenly the door bell ringed. You and Silena walked downstairs and saw your dad standing by the door staring at Percy, not looking very amused.

"Percy," you asked.

"Hey Y/N, I said I'd pick you up at nine didn't I?"

You looked down and saw that it was in fact, nine on the dot. "You're a punctual fella aint ya?"

"And what's going on here," you dad sternly asked. He looked between you two with an eyebrow raised.

"Well," your sister started. "Y/N here is going out, so that means so can I, right?"

"You look really good by the way," Percy interjected, earning a glare from your dad and a chuckle from your sister.

"And how were you planning me on 'picking me up,'" you used air quotes as you ignored your dad. "Did you plan on stuffing me in the basket of your bike?"

Percy looked back at his blue bike laying down in the lawn, then back at you. "Maybe I didn't think that far ahead, but its the thought that counts, no?"

You laughed at his effort. "Yeah okay, sure. Anyways I'm driving," you said as you swung your fingers around your fingers and walked out to your car.

﹒º. ౨ৎ

Charles and Leo were at the party, one was drinking in peace and the other one was slowly starting to freak out. Guess who's who.

"Dude, just relax," Leo said as he tried shoving his drink into Charles face. He just moved it away with his hand.

"You don't understand me sometimes."

"Thank fucking god. I think I'd kill myself," Charles just glared at Leo, and he held his arms up in surrender. Both of them paused when they heard the front door open and Charles whipped his head around. He saw Silena walk in and he could've sworn a fly flew in his mouth. Her pink dress fit her beautifully and the way her long dark hair fell behind her made her look unreal.

"Y/Ns actually pretty hot when she tries," Leo nodded approvingly. He turned to his friend and saw him shamelessly staring at the other sister. "Dude, you look like a creep. Go talk to her."

"Your welcome," Charles clearly was not paying attention.

"The house is on fire."

"Yeah no, I got it."

"I'm literally getting my dick sucked right now."

"Cool- what," Charles turned as quick as possible and stared right a Leo.

"The house on fire gets no reaction but me getting a blowjob is absolutely outlandish??" Leo sassed.

"Can you not talk about your dick??"

"Can you focus up on your lady," Leo pointed back over to Silena, and to the slowly approaching Luke coming in from 'round the corner. "Might be time to lock in, I dunno know though, don't quote me."

Charles shrugged Leo off and went walking towards Silena. "Hey, you made it."

"Yeah thanks to you," Silena said as she continued to scan the room. She looked back at Charles and quickly looked him up and down and cleared her throat. "You clean up nice y'know."

"Yeah, you look-"

"Hey gorgeous," Luke announced from behind Silena, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. "Glad your here."

Silena smiled as she thanked him and looked back at Charles. "Hey Charles, I'll see you around, alright?"

"Yeah, um. Sure," Charles watched Luke smiled at him like an asshole as he led Silena away. Charles turned back around and made his way towards Leo again.

﹒º. ౨ৎ

You watched from afar as Luke made his move on your sister, sending you weird looks as he did so. God how you hated him more than anything. He was a massive douche and it bothered you to think Silena could like a guy like that, but then again, surface deep attractions all he's got going for him, and you knew your sister would hopefully find that out on her own.

You just tried to ignore it and went off to the kitchen for some shots. You saw a half filled bottle Smirnoffs and quickly secured it for yourself.

One shot. Two shot.

Then Percy walked into the kitchen. "Woah, whats the rush?"

"I only had two," you said as Percy took a shot for himself. He decided that was it if this was the way you were going to drink throughout the night. "Isn't this what I'm 'supposed' to be doing. Drinking and dancing?"

You snatched the bottle and took a third shot. You knew you should've probably stopped there, at least for now, but Luke was terribly flirting with your sister, and murder was depressingly illegal. Percy looked away for a second and when he looked back you were gone. He quickly walked around trying to look for you when he was stopped by Charles.

"Dude, we have to stop this," he said.

"Stop what," Percy asked.

"This whole thing," he waved his arms around. "She doesn't want me, she just wants him."

He looked sad and defeated, and Percy felt bad. And weirdly enough, he didn't want to stop taking you out. "Charles, do you like her or not? Is she worth this whole thing?"

"I mean, I thought so but-"

"But nothing, yes or no?"

"Yeah, yeah she is."

"Then no, this isn't over till you get the girl, and I know you can dude," Percy patted Charles shoulders and walked off to find you. He saw you across the room taking another shot, but when he went to speed walk over to you he was stopped yet again. This time, by Luke.

"God, I knew you were the right person to turn to."

"Huh," Percy turned confused, and was starting to get annoyed.

"You did the impossible, removing the stick from Y/N's ass," Luke cheered.

"Yeah whatever," Percy rolled his eyes, getting more bothered with the way people spoke about you. And before he got the chance to push Luke away and make his way back over to you, the music started blaring and cheering started getting louder, including Luke's cheering. Percy was now purely annoyed, he just wanted to make his way back over to you, hopefully stopping you from taking anymore shots.

He walked toward the center of the cheering to see you hopping on a table and dancing to the beat of the roaring music. Your body was swaying and Percy right then and there forgot that he was paid to take you here. He forgot that if it wasn't for some random guy coming up to him wanting to date your sister, he wouldn't be standing here watching you dance like there was no one in the room, like it was just you and him right now.

He wondered where'd he be right now if he had said no. Would he be home, or would he maybe have found another girl in this short time period? Probably not, but anything could happened in such a short time frame, like this. Percy thought there was something about a girl who can so brazenly insult you like it was nothing, yet still bandaged you up if you were hurt. He was quickly snapped from his daydream when you slipped from the table and fell into his arms.

"Oh, its you," you blew raspberries in his face as you went to stand up. "I'll be fine."

As you went to stand, you started stumbling back down, making Percy grab you again. "Yup, your very fine."

"Stop flirting with me Jackson," you rolled your eyes and he just laughed. He started leading you out the house, away from all the noise, and all the alcohol, so you could rest up. You've had one too many drinks and it was now time to stop. "I wanna sleep."

You two were outside, and you had wandered off and found a nearby bench to lay down on. "You shouldn't walk off like this, might get kidnapped y'know."

"Oh and you'd care? I'm only ever mean to you if you hadn't noticed."

"Well of course, you know I think I might have a thing for girls who hate me."

"As opposed to what, the girls who like you? Because I've yet to see those," Percy grabbed your arms and stood you up. He rummaged through his pockets for your keys. Percy was thankful that your dress didn't have pockets and wouldn't have to wrestle you for said keys.

"See, just like that, why have compliments when I could get insulted like there's no tomorrow" he said as he opened the door for you. He walked over to the drivers seat and when he sat down you gave him a weird look. "Yes?"

"Can you even drive?"

"Just because I don't have a car doesn't mean I don't have a license," you were still staring straight at him, looking between both his eyes.

"Your eyes are really sea-green, I really like sea-green," you smiled and Percy felt speechless. He smiled softly.

"Lets get you home."

﹒º. ౨ৎ

Silena was absolutely bored out of her mind. For the past who knows who long she's been forced to taking pictures of Luke for his instagram. His excuse? 'your gorgeous hands take gorgeous pictures.'

If he called her 'gorgeous' one more time there, Silena might've shown up. She handed him back the phone as he continued to talk about himself, again. That seems to be all he ever does. 'What the hell did I ever see in him,' Silena thought.

After like 15 minutes, the party was getting stale and people were starting to leave. The two walked out together when Silena was approached by a good friend of hers, Drew.

"So Silena, ready to hit the next party," Luke asked.

"Darn," she looked down at her phone. "Gotta be home in 20 minutes."

She pretended to look disappointed when Drew quickly spoke up, "I don't have to be home till like, 2-3AM."

She boasted as Silena looked her up and down. "That settles it. Silena, this is your last shot. You coming or not?"

"Nope, I can't. Sorry," she shrugged as they quickly sped off into Luke's convertible. Silena rolled her eyes she realized she now didn't have a ride home. Looking around, the only person she saw was Charles. Despite feeling awkward for having somewhat blown him off earlier, she still approached him.

"Hey there Charles," Silena waved. He half-heartedly smiled back. "Can you, um- give me a ride home?"

Charles felt his heart slightly speed up, but still felt slightly dejected. Silena had sent the whole night with Luke, why would she not just leave with him? "Yeah, of course."

They both drove home in silence. It felt kind of awkward, then Charles had pulled up in front of the Beauregard house and parked. The two sat in silence not moving, but when Silena turned over, Charles seemed to have a face on. "Charles, is something wrong?"

"Is something wrong?"

"Well yeah-"

"No nothing. There's nothing wrong. I mean sure yeah I went through the trouble to get your sister asked out so you'd finally be able to date. But of course I did it for Luke. I did it for Luke but I literally learned how to speak French for you-"

Charles was quickly cut off by Silena leaving over and grabbing Charles face into a kiss that could've melted him on the spot. They went on for a moment before Silena went back into her seat. The two were panting before Silena spoke up.

"A whole language, just for me," she giggled, and Charles felt slightly embarrassed for having admitted to that. "I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?"

He nodded as he watched Silena step out of the car, waving to him as she walked off to the front door. Charles started cheering in his car before driving off back to his own home.

﹒º. ౨ৎ

It was the next Beauregard's turn to be dropped off by a man tonight.

As Percy parked your car in its normal spot in the drive way, he turned to look at you. "You still wasted or are you sobering up now?"

"I'm as sober as a judge," you declared, waving your finger in the air. You turned toward him and stared at him, reaching over and twirling a piece of his black hair between your fingers. "Your hairs soft."

You were close now. Close enough for him to smell the vodka expelling from your breathe. You looked into his eyes, and leaned slightly in. Percy thought about leaning in, but the shots on shots you took tonight made it not such a good idea.

When you noticed he didn't lean in, you felt a mix between mad and embarrassed. You quickly grabbed your keys and slammed the car door shut on your way out, running up to your house door and rushing in as fast as you could. Percy sighed as he sat back, feeling like an idiot.

One sister had a happy ending with the boy she didn't expect, and the other couldn't even get a kiss goodnight from a guy who was paid to be here (more and more everyday, he cared less and less about the money).

﹒º. ౨ৎ

✰Taglist: @liviessun @lara20aral @balletfilmss @job-ross-the-second @brokecollegebitch @riaaavm @avihashearts4lix @huera-ne @zn0v1a @sofiacblair @itzjustj-1000 (just lemme know if you wanna be added)

#percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #percy jackson pjo #percy pjo #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x y/n #percy jackson x you #charles pjo #charles beckendorf #silena pjo #silena beauregard #charlena

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asvterias · 1 month

Text

𝖢𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝟣: 𝖦𝗈𝗈𝖽𝖻𝗒𝖾, 𝖸𝖺𝗇𝖼𝗒 𝖠𝖼𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗆𝗒

the cast // series masterlist

chap. 1 || chap. 2 || chap. 3 || chap. 4 || chap. 5

word count: 4.5k+

tag list: @starvviss @lov3rgirllll @starless-nightz @random-girls-loves

author’s note: so...first chapter, how are we looking?? 👀 Also, there’s no way for me to be this consistent with my book 😮, let’s hope i can keep this up!

ꪆৎ ˚⋅ ➴ ᡣ𐭩 ྀིྀ ꪆৎ ˚⋅ ➴ ᡣ𐭩 ྀིྀ

‼️ DISCLAIMER FOR THIS CHAPTER ‼️

Just Some Cursing

Bold Italics are the Flashbacks

Bold Italics with the ‘Single Quotation Marks’ are spoken in 1st POV.

ꪆৎ ˚⋅ ➴ ᡣ𐭩 ྀིྀ ꪆৎ ˚⋅ ➴ ᡣ𐭩 ྀིྀ

Born from the same father but different mothers, your sibling bond with Percy was unbreakable, certainly unconditional. Your mothers were very close, growing up as best friends from when they were teenagers, accomplishing every achievement together for the sake of you and Percy’s life.

Of course, your moms fell in love, hosting a small spring wedding when you were 10 and Percy was 6 years old.

‘Look…. I didn’t want to be a half-blood. Being a half-blood is dangerous, it’s scary. Most of the time it gets you killed in painful, nasty ways. If you think you might be one of us, my advice is to turn away while you still can because once they know who you are, they’ll sense it too and they’ll come for you. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.’

‘My name is Y/N Jackson-Matthews, I’m sixteen years old. Am I a troubled kid? Depends on which context you put this in.’

‘To my parents, I’m the easy and less rebellious child, never causing fights unless provoked, maintaining good school grades, and protecting my brother from trouble. I didn’t mind any of it, rather enjoying being the protector of the family. It makes me visible and seen as an equal to my other family members. Don’t get my parents wrong, they love and care for me very much, but I always felt invisible, blending into the sidelines, due to my shy nature. Luckily, I’m still growing out of that mindset and managing to be an outspoken girl and not a pushover.’

‘So what happens when the protector is unable to protect? Do they give up instant hope and cower in shame? Or do they fight back, willingly seeking a second chance to redeem themselves? The answer to this question is unclear. Whether you make a change or just bystand like others?

With everything going on, from the upbringing of your heritage, both of your mothers went through thick and thin. Developing from friends into lovers hardly changed anything, presumably their love maintained massively for themselves and shared children. A loving family of four was maintained by dark secrets that cost lives.

After many years of moving from states because of unexplainable sightings you and Percy witnessed in confusion and never properly settling down in schools, Yancy Academy was persistent. You and Percy managed a full school semester at Yancy, and your parents were proud of it.

Everything was going well, Percy finally found a friend, Grover Underwood, the boy was a little peculiar but his personality was a sweet innocent one. Yes, you didn’t have any friends but you were fine with it, half of your schoolmates weren’t even worth the time. So, you just hung out with Grover and Percy, defending them against bullies, particularly a redhead named Nancy Bobofit, who was your classmate.

Despite the girl bullying your younger brothers, she never bothered you to the extent she did with others. You shared most of your classes with her, due to being assigned to AP Classes because of your academic gift. Perhaps, maybe she’s always flustered by your mere presence, her rosy cheeks, giving her true feelings away. Even when it’s with a single glance from you, the redhead girl would duck her head and turn the small smile she had on, plastering it with a hardened frown.

‘Until the day that changed, too…until the day one of them decided to come for me and my brother too. My family’s fate will all be in my hands. And maybe I wasn’t prepared for it, nobody was prepared for it. I’m a protector and nothing we hate worse is an unprepared attack.

ꪆৎ ˚⋅ ➴ ᡣ𐭩 ྀིྀ ꪆৎ ˚⋅ ➴ ᡣ𐭩 ྀིྀ

Yancy Academy hosted a field trip to the Met Museum about Greek Gods for History Week. Standing beside your younger brothers, Grover and Percy, observing about the many Greek God statues on display while Mr. Brunner briefly discussed Greek History.

Keeping a clipboard in your hand with a worksheet attached to it and you fidgeted with the pen in your other hand. You couldn’t concentrate on anything.

“What you see here, they are not fictions. They are not fantasies. What you see here are the truest and deepest parts of yourselves. Friends…the gods, the monsters, the heroes, you see here in this room are reminders of what we are capable of.” Mr. Brunner explained to the students.

You released a tired sigh, throwing your head slightly back as you resisted the urge to roll your eyes and leave to buy snacks.

Greek Mythology wasn’t your favorite thing to learn about but surprisingly your brother, it’s the only subject he wholeheartedly admires.

“Now, on your worksheets, I want you to choose one of the subjects you see here and describe it. Not just how it looks but how it makes you feel. Hmm…okay, c’mon.” Your History teacher claps twice, urging everyone to disperse and start the assignment.

You blinked down at the clipboard holding your assignment, trying to read the instructions. Your vision goes blurry as you squint your eyes, not believing the sight. Were you seeing things now? Since when do words start to rearrange themselves on paper? That whole ordeal caused even more confusion and an even further increasing headache.

Suddenly, you feel a tap on your shoulder which brings you back to reality as you turn around to face the person. You shake your head, realizing you are in a public place and daydreaming again.

“Hey, Matthews,” Nancy smirks.

“Hey, Bobofit.” Your eyes slanted at the girl’s presence, wondering why the sudden intrusion.

“I was wondering if you had another pen that I could borrow. I seem to have lost mine,”

You nodded with a small smile, about to grab the extra pen from your sweater pocket before your brother joined in the conversation.

“Isn’t that the pen behind your ear?” Percy points out.

You raised your head and scanned the girl’s face as her red hair made it harder to decipher the pen. Nancy’s face flushed in embarrassment as her eyes widened at the blonde’s attempt at humiliation. The redhead absolutely hated that he succeeded in embarrassing her, and in front of you, too. Finally, you spotted the well-hidden pen, observing the writing utensil, safely tucked behind the bridge of her ear.

“Oh yeah, you do have a pen. You don’t need mine.”

Your brother smiles in satisfaction at Nancy’s embarrassment and your cluelessness in the entire situation.

“Yeah, so can you get lost now?” Percy says with a disdained face.

Nancy glares and scoffs at your blonde brother before turning her attention back to you with a half smile. “See you later, Y/N,” she waved with a flirty tone.

You nodded, watching the redhead saunter off to her friend group once again.

“I still don’t get why you even interact with her,” Percy exhales.

“Trust me, I don’t know myself.” You answer him, “Maybe, I want to kill her with kindness,” You joked with a dry tone.

“My sister is always the jester,” Percy rolls his eyes.

“Shut up, doofus,” You shove him. “Let’s hurry up and finish this worksheet so we can buy snacks, I’m starving.”

“I swear you think through your stomach,”

“Whatever, Perseus.”

You two chuckle to yourselves as you both look up at the statue in front of you. It was Perseus, standing victoriously while holding the decapitated head of Medusa.

“What do you see?”

The whole scenery changed, and instead of the museum being crowded it was empty, just the family of four. You, Percy, your mom, Jessica, and your mother, Sally. However, your ages also regressed there too, you were 10 and Percy was 6 as you all stood before the statue. It was a past memory.

“Perseus…that’s me.” A six-year-old Percy answered his mom.

“Mm-hmm, that’s who you’re named after.”

“Is that why you named me after him? Because he was a hero?”

“What makes you think he was a hero?”

“Because he kills monsters.”

“And what makes you think that she was a monster?”

“Mom…”

“Not everyone who looks like a hero is a hero, and not everyone who looks like a monster is a monster.” Your mom, Jessica continues with the conversation.

“This Greek talk is sooo boring,” You mumbled to yourself.

“I named you after him because when he was a very little boy he and his mother were placed in a wooden chest and cast out into the sea by a very angry king.”

Your mom looked at her two children as she spoke, “All alone, afraid, and at night, his mother would whisper in his ear; “Hold fast Perseus. Brave the storm that was made to break us for we are unbreakable as long as we have each other.”

“And against all odds, he managed his way to find a happy ending,” Sally concludes.

You and your mom shared a glance of boredom as she grabbed your hand, sneakily walking away from your brother and mother. You two left the museum and headed towards the food stand outside, ordering two medium-sized pretzels.

“We got pretzels,” You cheered, chewing on the pretzel in your hand as you skipped back inside the museum with your mom.

“And you didn’t bring me any!” Percy yelled in astonishment.

“Why yes, of course, because you and mother were boring me and mom about all this Greek mythology.”

“It’s not my fault your attention span is so short!”

“Oh, like you’re one to talk, Perseus!”

“Just shut up, Y/N/N.”

Before you two could argue again, your mom hit your arm, silencing any of your upcoming words, and replacing it with a hurried yell. Soothing your arm in pain as the impact still subsided, and you pouted at your mom.

“In public places, we use our inside voices, remember.” Sally gently reprimands her two children.

“But—“

Her warning tone was to be carefully treaded with. “Y/N…”

“Why didn’t Percy get hit too?”

“Don’t take that tone with your mother, missy,” Your mom lectures you with a firm stare. “Don’t make me get the belt.”

Neither of your parents were wearing belts and you wondered where she was gonna find one. For once, you decided to keep your smart mouth shut and avoid the consequences this time.

“Fine, we’ll be even.” Sally sighs, briefly hitting Percy’s arm harshly, wincing when his eyes start to water.

“Sorry, mom.” You held your head down in shame and bashfully took another bite of your pretzel.

He cries and you walk over to him, rubbing his back with your free hand, attempting to comfort him. Soon enough, you soothed and wiped his tears away and gave him a huge bear hug.

“Don’t cry, brother. I’ll keep you safe from our mothers.”

He sniffles at you, still staying silent, reciprocating the hug back and not budging.

Pulling away from the bear hug, you grinned softly at the young blonde. “We’ll share my pretzel if you like.” You shoved the half-eaten pretzel into your brother’s face.

Percy wipes his remaining tears away, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he reaches for the desert.

You smiled at your generosity and so did your parents at your kindness shown towards your younger brother. They loved seeing you two get along, too bad that wholesome moment quickly diminished as you began to shout again.

“Not a big piece, you hoarder!”

“How about we get you two separate pretzels?” Sally bargained with an unsure shrug and her wife, Jessica stared at her in disbelief.

“We’re not getting them separate pretzels.” Your mom, Jessica, shakes her head.

“Why not?”

“Can’t you tell, Percy, we’re broke?”

“How broke are we?”

“We’re not broke.”

The family of four started to leave the museum as you walked hand in hand with Percy as he munched on the remainder of your pretzel. You weren’t going to fight him about it because you were getting another one.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, sweetie, I’m sure.”

“You’re not very convincing, mom.” You skipped to the pretzel stand with Percy by your side.

Sally smiles down at you. “Y/N takes after you,”

“Oh, please, no she does not.” Your mom scoffs in disagreement.

ꪆৎ ˚⋅ ➴ ᡣ𐭩 ྀིྀ ꪆৎ ˚⋅ ➴ ᡣ𐭩 ྀིྀ

“Mom!” Percy yells out and he breaks his pencil in the process, startling some nearby students.

You glance at your brother in confusion, seeing he’s finally out of his trance state, returning to the harsh reality.

“I’m right here, sweetie,” Percy searched for the voice and internally shrank upon the actual voice of the person. It was Nancy, who was just publicly humiliating him in front of everybody. “Mommy’s here!” She fakely cooed, drawing out some laughs from her friends and others.

You glared at the redhead, smirking to yourself when she backed down and turned away from you two.

“Just ignore her.”

“Well, it’s getting quite hard not to. She’s like a pest, a human-sized annoying pest that you can’t get rid of.”

“Mr. Jackson and Ms. Matthews, you two will learn to control yourself, do you understand me?” You wince at the sudden harshness of Mrs. Dodds’ tone.

“Us?” Percy asked in shock, pointing to the group of girls, ready to defend himself.

“Listen here, lady, we didn’t do anything wrong—“

Mrs. Dodd sharply cut your statements off. “Do you understand me?”

“He can’t help it, Mrs. Dodds. Percy’s special.” Nancy wanted to be desperately involved. Oh, she’s definitely going to get what’s coming for her.

“I will fight you in front of everyone here and show you who’s really special.” You start to walk closer to the posse of girls but a strict voice halts your actions.

“That’s enough!” Mr. Brunner rolls over on his wheelchair to the two of you, “Pay them no mind. When you’re ready to hear what the gods have in store for you, they’ll tell you. I believe in you, in the both of you.”

“Thanks for the unnecessary inspiration, I guess,” You shrugged.

Mr. Brunner pulls two black pens from his suit, “And I believe you two will be needing this.”

Immediately, Percy accepts the pen from his teacher but you aren’t easily impressed or gullible by a basic pen.

“No, thanks, I already have an extra pen.”

“Take the pen, Ms. Matthews.” His demeanor was serious as you gulped, taking the pen out of his hand.

“It’s a pen, though.” You spoke dumbfounded, looking at the pen skeptically.

“Why, yes, Y/N, it is a pen,” Mr. Brunner nodded in agreement. Was he being sarcastic with you?

“Do you want us to write something with it for you?”

“Hang on to them. ‘Tis a mighty instrument,”

“It’s just a pen.” You argued. “If you’re that lazy to write, that’s not my problem, Mr. B.”

“Good day, Y/N.” He rolled away in his wheelchair. “I never knew a girl could have so many questions for a simple thing.” He murmurs to himself.

“What’s so special about this pen?” Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, observing the simple black ink pen.

“Just let it go, sis.”

“I’m only doing that because lunch is finally here.” You shoved the pen into your sweater pocket.

“All you’re worried about is food.”

“Of course, what else is there to worry about? Food won’t hurt or pretend to love me, food is life.”

“Why do you always do that?”

“What do I always do?”

“Get real depressing when you’re hungry.”

“It’s either a depressing state or a bitchy state, be grateful.”

ꪆৎ ˚⋅ ➴ ᡣ𐭩 ྀིྀ ꪆৎ ˚⋅ ➴ ᡣ𐭩 ྀིྀ

The trio sits by the huge water fountain and begins to eat their sandwiches while everyone else is talking and standing around with their friends.

“There are all sorts of schools of thought about what drives that kind of bullying. Childhood trauma, a feeling of inadequacy..” Grover lists off.

“Look I get that Nancy has issues, I’m just getting tired of her taking them out on me.” Percy exhales, “I feel like maybe it’s time we do something about it.”

“You could make an appointment with Mr. Kane.” Grover suggests, “He’s really great at talking to—“

“I was thinking more of shoving Nancy into the nearest dumpster,” Percy confesses with an innocent smile.

“Oh…” Grover raises his eyebrows, “That’s not what I really had intended in mind.”

“I like it, let’s do it.”

“No, no, no, Y/N, Percy, have you two learned nothing?”

“Hey, I do learn stuff, I just forget about the consequences…sometimes.”

“If there’s one thing I know about bullies, is that you should never ever stand up to them,” You frowned at that piece of advice.

“That doesn’t sound right.”

“It isn’t right.” You piped up. “That’s a stupidass logic, Grover, you’ll just give them more power than they actually need. The only way to stand up to them is to fight, make them scared of you after you beat their ass.”

“Look…I know this place is hard for people like us but we’re not gonna be here forever. There are better places out there.” Grover reassures his best friend.

A slice of cheese comes hurling your way and it lands on Grover’s face, echoing a smacking sound.

“Oops…” Nancy smirks, balling up the piece of garbage in her hand and walking away.

“Percy….”

You piped up, opening the bag of chips, “Just don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,”

Percy abruptly stands up, frustration consuming his mind, storming over to Nancy and holding his hand out. At first, Nancy stared at him unimpressed with a teasing smile to further anger your brother. Seriously, what was going on with your eyes today?! First, words were disoriented on your paper and now Percy had telekinetically thrown Nancy into the nearby fountain. He did all that within a few feet, possibly two feet away from the redhead girl.

The girl went flying back a few feet in the air, screaming at her sudden height before landing into the fountain. You stare in pure amazement at the sight, laughing slightly at the girl’s hysterics.

How was he able to do that? Did you have that same ability?

“Shit…I would have done the same thing.” You admitted.

“Percy pushed me!” Is the first thing she shouts that causes you to rush over to Percy’s aid.

“What, no I didn’t!” Percy stammers.

There were murmurs and crude looks sent in your brother’s direction but you ignored it.

Judgmental looks were the least of your concerns, moreover, the annoying buzzing sound getting louder. You found the source, furiously shaking in your sweater as you hesitantly pulled the shaking pen out.

“There you are.” A familiar voice rang out, capturing the siblings’ attention. It was Mrs. Dodds’ voice and she was walking menacingly toward you two. The woman still telepathically speaks.

“We’re not fools, Percy Jackson & Y/N Matthews.

“Mrs. Dodds, you okay?”

“It was only a matter of time before we found you two,”

Your heart pounded in your chest as you gripped Percy’s wrist on instinct by your protective nature, pulling him behind you. Both watched as she stalked closer…and it looked like she was transforming into a creature. Slowly but surely, wings started to sprout from her back and her true body revealed itself.

Mrs. Dodds wasn’t even a pretty creature either, yet you only appreciate her color of scales.

“Where is it, half-bloods?” She steps on the stairs of the fountain, “Where is it?” The creature flies above you as the sibling duo stumbles back, fearful of current threats. Too appalled by the sight of everything, Percy held onto your hand tighter as he hid behind you, resting his face in your sweater. As long as he had you by his side, he’d be fine, that’s what his parents said.

‘Protect each other and you’ll be fine. Love and care for each other and you’ll be fine. Don’t ever turn your back on each other, you’re blood siblings and that’s never changing.’

All of a sudden, she plummets down at the two of you with the intent of attacking. Her height is as intimidating as she looks and you internally bite back a gulp. You just hoped she couldn’t smell emotion, and use that to her advantage because your fear was too distinctive right now.

“Hmmm….not you…you can put up a fight,” She glared at you.

Instead of attacking you first, she decided to take Percy, knowing he was too young to understand anything. So she uses her wing to shove you away from your brother, her strength forcing you to separate from the blonde.

“No, Y/N!” Percy yells as you go flying back and crash landing into the hot dog stand truck.

Once you are down, Mrs. Dodds redirects her attention to Percy with a hiss, and the blonde stumbles backward, desperately trying to escape but falls down.

In a second, the monster is on top of him, her clawed fingers briefly skimming over the color of his shirt as she analyzes the terrified boy, “Where is it, half-blood?”

“No,” You whisper, tightening the pen’s grasp, viewing the scared interaction of your brother and that creature.

Hastily getting up from the ground, staring in bewilderment at the transformed gold sword. Huh, guess it was more than an actual pen.

Stabbing the creature in her back, ignoring her first hiss, repeatedly stabbing the monster until it was fully weakened as she eventually began to disintegrate into brown dust.

After the monster dies, you stagger onto the floor, barely sitting down with sense.

“Y/N…” His voice becomes disoriented as your vision changes into a black abyss and everything goes silent.

“Are they dead?” Someone asked.

“Are they okay?”

Managing to open your tired eyes to see a circle around, looking down on you as a groan left your mouth.

“Give them some room, please.”

By the kind demand, some students disappear, mingling back with their friends while Grover stays behind, helping you and Percy off the ground.

“What happened?” Percy breathlessly asked.

You glimpsed over at a drenched Nancy with a towel wrapped around her shoulders, who was glaring daggers at your brother while being comforted by some strange woman.

Turns out, Nancy actually got what she deserved a few minutes later and it was hilarious and shocking at the same time.

“Where’s Mrs. Dodds?”

Percy’s question goes unanswered.

“I didn’t do anything to him.” Nancy exclaims and the woman escorts her away, “He pushed me.”

“Everybody go back to your lunches.” He commands the other students, who still stare and murmur amongst themselves at the sibling duo. “It’s all right Y/N and Percy, just need a moment, that’s all.”

“I didn’t understand, didn’t anyone just see that? Where’s Mrs. Dodds?” You persisted.

At your question, Mr. Brunner and Grover shared a glance.

“Y/N, there’s no one here by that name,”

“Yes, there was. She had white hair in a 1950s hairstyle, wore a trench coat, and totally gave off creeper stalker vibes.

“As I said before, there’s no one here by that name.”

“You sure?” Percy questions.

“I’m quite sure,” Mr. Brunner reaffirms with a tight-lipped smile, “All right, class, let’s move soon. Let’s go, finish your lunches.”

Long story short, all three of you got called into the principal’s office, and heavily questioned because of the earlier incident with Nancy. This talk was definitely not going to be good. By the time you were ready to leave, Grover shocked you with his statement, claiming he saw Percy push Nancy into the fountain.

Observing your brother’s reaction to his best friend’s huge lie, betrayed by the other boy, ultimately thinking he was just like the rest. You gave him a small smile, rubbing his back to reassure him that you were there for him. That’s what you always do, protect and love your younger brother like your life depends on it.

Guess, that’s the end of going to this school, you and Percy are going home! Might as while call your parents and inform them of your early visitation.

Sitting on a bench with your belongings beside you, Percy looks gloomy, probably still portraying Grover’s betrayal in his mind. He seemed to be out of it and you didn’t bother him either. This was his time to reflect on everything that happened so far.

“None of this is easy,” Mr. Brunner strolled in, “Not for you two, not for any of us. I’m very concerned about you two, I saw what happened at the museum.”

“I didn’t touch Nancy.” Percy’s self-reassurance started to sound like a plea. He just wished for Mr. Brunner to believe him, because it seemed like no one was on his side, except for you.

“I know you didn’t. At least, I know you think you didn’t.”

“Listen here, Mr. B, I saw what happened too and my brother’s telling the truth.”

“Do you want to tell me what you think happened? You can tell me. I might just understand.”

“You wanna bet?” Percy tilts his head.

“Percy…Y/N,” He lowly chuckles, “I’ve seen a lot of young people go through this sort of thing in my time, but of all of them, I suspect that…you might have the most difficult journey.”

“Oh, because that puts us at such ease,”

“It was not meant to put you at ease,” Mr. Brunner recorrects you. “I suspect that you two are special. So much more so than you know.”

“Just…stop.” The blonde boy heavily sighs. “Okay, I don’t need any more stories about how special me and my sister don’t realize we are. They aren’t helping in the slightest.”

“And I’m pretty sure I’m dyslexic,” You interrupted. “If that counts as special.”

“Ms. Matthews, you’re special but not in the way you assume.” Mr. Brunner implies.

“How is that relevant?”

“It’s not, I just wanted to feel included.”

“Of course, you do.”

A green, vintage two-seater truck pulls up, signaling your departure for returning home.

“This is our ride, we’re going home.” You spoke to the History teacher, “Get your bags, Percy, let’s go.”

Percy nods at the teacher before retrieving his bags and following into the Yancy Academy truck alongside you. Once you two were settled in the vehicle, the driver revived his engine and pulled out of the driveway.

Goodbye, Yancy Academy, you were decent while it lasted.

ꪆৎ ˚⋅ ➴ ᡣ𐭩 ྀིྀ ꪆৎ ˚⋅ ➴ ᡣ𐭩 ྀིྀ

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