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ma1dita · 1 year ago

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play pretend

a ‘partners in crime’ installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader prev -> said he likes crazy | next -> a wish your heart makes words: 5.1k (holy shit) summary: (established relationship…at the end of it lol) suggestive in nature but sfw , underage drinking what do you expect from a dionysus!kid, mentions of vomit The one where Mr. D catches you two in the act, but you and him aren't exactly together yet. Everyone knows you two are together except the both of you, apparently. It’s hard to not run away from something good. (luke castellan x dionysus!reader) a/n: happy first i love you to you and luke! yall are together now! crazy! thanks for being patient during my lil vacay :)) its been a little over a month since i started the trouble!verse!! ilysm (posted 2/23 betad by my one and only @mrsaluado )

—

There’s something you’ve always loved about mornings.

Waking up with the first rays of light peeking through your window, the sun’s arms stretched around your sleepy frame pressing warm, featherlike kisses across the expanse of your back.

It almost feels real.

Apollo must be feeling generous today, the heat of a warm breath brushing against your neck, and your alarm sounding an awful lot like soft snores. You ought to get up and close the blinds; it’s too damn bright. But your weighted blanket feels immensely heavier this morning as it envelopes your senses—smelling of citrus, musk, and a tangible dream of last night that seems to have stayed in bed with you. As soon as you try to untangle your legs from below the covers, warmth presses you deeper into the mattress with a…familiar sigh.

Your eyes pop open.

Quick and calculated, your eyes survey the surroundings of your room—the mop of licorice tresses nestled against the crook of your neck, both of your clothes scattered on the floor, as well as the alarm clock and a few other things knocked off your nightstand from Luke’s enthusiasm. The quiet of the morning is quickly disrupted when you hear two pairs of little hands pounding on your door, and for a moment you wonder if this is one of those hyper-realistic dreams that you don’t want to wake up from.

“Sissy! You missed breakfast,” Pollux bellows as Castor continues to slap his palms on the wood like a bongo drum.

The sheets start rustling as you squirm out of Luke’s grasp, bumping against the muscular ridges of his torso which brings him back to consciousness.

“Be out in a minute!” you slur against his shoulder, and he opens his eyes blearily at the sight of you sprawled over him to try to reach the alarm clock on the ground. As his eyes focus he can’t help but admire the planes of your body, soft and pretty in the morning light like a painting come to life. Waking up in one’s company has never felt more right, even with the usual chatter of campers wafting through the open window. Here in the swaddle of pink and purple sheets, you two are something singular—not camp counselors with jobs to do, not demigods wanting to achieve glory, just your Angelface and his Trouble.

It’s intimate, even if it doesn’t have a label, him and you.

His large hand catches you at the plush of your tummy when you almost topple off the bed.

“Shit. Shit! They’re not kidding—Luke, it’s 9:30!”

You fling yourself upwards and off of him, clambering to find clothes from your dresser and tossing him his from the day prior. His belt buckle almost hits him in the eye and he groans, flinching as it smacks him in the cheek.

“Gods, woman. You think camp will crumble because you slept in for once?”

The glare you throw in his direction is his answer, so Luke slowly tugs his pants on–though he quickly gets distracted by a half-dressed vision of you rummaging around your room.

“Castellan.”

He grins like a little kid in a candy store, and to that, you throw his shoe at him.

Idiot.

Too bad you’re in deep shit for sleeping in.

“SISSY!!!”

“IN A FUCKING MINUTE, THING ONE AND TWO!”

Screaming at the closed door as you throw some shorts on, you spin around and bump into Luke who’s already got his hands around your waist as his nose nudges the space between your jaw and your neck.

“You were supposed to leave before daybreak,” you sigh, a smile creeping onto your lips, “if you did as you were told, I wouldn’t have slept in.” Fake annoyance leaks through your voice though he knows it not to be true, he wouldn’t be able to latch onto you like this if you were. His nose continues to graze up towards your ear as he presses a kiss behind it—like how you both deal with your feelings and the truth nowadays, a hidden secret kept for both of your eyes only.

“Dunno Trouble…I can get used to waking up next to you,” he mumbles. You can feel the imprint of his smile searing into your skin.

Is this what going into cardiac arrest feels like? Genuine question.

You’ve both been sneaking around for the past few weeks, but neither of you has made anything official. They say it’s easier to fall for a friend rather than a stranger—to know someone so intimately (and now in more ways than one) should make falling the easy part.

But that’s kind of the problem.

Luke is your best friend—both knowing how the other feels from a single glance, so pray tell to all the gods on Olympus, why has this boy not asked you out yet? Whether this is all for fun or anything resembling a four-letter word that makes your brain go fuzzy, you think you’d rather swim in the Styx instead of putting yourself at a disadvantage. Love is scary, even if it’s Luke.

Especially since it’s Luke.

His words make you stop in your tracks and you can hear your heart pounding in your ears, so you’re not dead… But the noise turns out to be one of the twins banging on the door again, and now you look like an asshole for taking too long to respond. Luke’s awkwardly looking at you now, tongue in cheek.

“Last warning,” one of your brothers teasingly croons, before the other continues, “Dad’s almost at the door! Your boyfriend’s gotta go or he’s dead…”

Your eyes widen in fear and Luke loosens his grip on your waist, unsure if you look like you’ve seen a ghost at the thought of him being called your boyfriend or the very real possibility of getting caught by your dad.

What a way to go, you two.

“Get out. You gotta go now, out the window!”

You start pushing him towards the windowpane, your palms pressing against his marked-up and very bare back.

Holy shit, he still doesn’t have a shirt and he looks like he got mauled by a hellhound.

You can practically see the grapevines start to flourish outside your window.

He’s too close for comfort, way too damn close, you think, but can’t reason if you mean Luke or your dad.

“Seriously?”

He straddles the open window, and Luke doesn’t know what to feel about you pushing him away—it’s a feeling that’s foreign to him since he’s always by your side.

“Sorry. I’ll make it up to you later angelface,” you mumble, pulling him in for a mind-numbing kiss that almost makes him slip off the rain gutter, and by the time you’ve already closed the window he realizes he’s shirtless in broad daylight, feet hopping off the siding of the cabin.

This couldn’t get any worse (oh but it does in a second), and you’re definitely the asshole this time around.

Your dad barges into your room by the time you throw a shirt on.

“Kid, what the hell? You sick?”

Mr. D furrows his brows at the sight of you, face flushed as you simper up a lie about your head hurting. It’s weak for an excuse and even if you usually don’t have a tell—he’s the master of this game, so he pretends to not notice you chuck a shirt out the window when you open it to make it less stuffy.

He raises an eyebrow in disapproval when you both notice your shirt is too big on you.

Oh, he’s onto you, applying heat like a brand to make his only daughter squirm; Mr. D peeks out the window to see a certain Luke Castellan stomping across the path wearing your cropped camp tee—and concludes that if there’s anyone in hot water right now, Luke must be drowning in it.

—

Acting natural is a bit harder for you today, and it feels like a cruel and unusual punishment worth the deepest pit of the Underworld as you scribble words onto a page that won’t even be comprehensible once you read them after this meeting is over. You’ve been catching up on work all day (also known as the impossible task of avoiding Luke) to show your dad you haven’t been slacking off. But a late start meant you fumbled through your day and it was obvious to everyone that you were off your game. Archery ran into javelin throwing, capture the flag teams weren’t ready and had to be made on the spot, there were no new shipments delivered to the camp store, and the infirmary ran out of ambrosia— which were all things that you were expected to coordinate.

Gods, you’re getting too old for this shit.

And if you, the head counselor everyone depends on, is off her game, well—everyone’s on edge. The Stolls even dared to ask you if the world was ending today and you were less than impressed.

Being in love sure feels like it is.

The only thing left to get through is this counselor’s meeting before the party tonight at Fireworks Beach, and you’ll damn yourself to Tartarus if you can’t even get that right. You’re a Dionysus kid, so partying is in your blood. Party planning is your favorite hobby, and to be real, you deserve a drink after today.

Speaking of your father, he’s jabbering on about something you find yourself not particularly interested in, but well…someone’s gotta listen. Charles is dozing off at the table, and Lee jabs him in the side. You see Silena braiding Clarisse’s hair out of the corner of your periphery. And of course, out of all of them, there’s Luke who’s been trying to steal your attention for the past 30 minutes. Black ink smears across the page as you find yourself having every thought that ends supplemented with the memory of how Luke looked at you as he climbed out of your window this morning.

Could he actually want more?

The all-star camper, Luke Castellan— camp’s best soldier who’s envied by many and admired by all…wants to wake up next to you. You, the camp director’s daughter who keeps everyone in line and is seen more as authority instead of a person with feelings. You’re not always feared, but in a camp for demigod kids who’d rather hone their powers instead of lose special privileges for skipping class, you’re not exactly their favorite either. Once, someone said they’d rather face Mr. D instead of you.

“That doesn’t make sense, we’re supposed to send in the next progress report to Olympus before the last day of the month. That’s Wednesday, D. So it should be by the Sunday before,” you butt in after a statement your dad makes about scheduling.

All eyes are on you now— it’s the first time you’ve spoken up during tonight’s meeting which was out of character in itself, but your father catches you off guard when the sound of his booming laughter spreads across the room like dynamite tearing through a battlefield.

“Says who? We’ve got enough time,” The god remarks, a strange sheen in his eyes that reflects into yours. He’s on your ass a bit more today, pointing out your flaws from the day and making it his mission to get on your nerves. Few mortals would undermine a god, and though you do it daily to spite him for your existence, your confidence is lower today than it usually is—the reason being a boy with amber eyes boring into your soul from across the table. Everything else pales in comparison now, almost fading into the background, and even here in the hot seat you can’t help but think about if Luke could ever fall for someone like you.

You’re venturing into dangerous territory, you tell yourself, you’ve been hurt before.

It hurts less somehow when you’re cautious. To prepare oneself to be hurt is a defense mechanism ingrained in you—your mom raised you to always be ready for anything. Your self-identity has always been skewed by others’ perceptions. Mirroring the memory of your late mother’s ideals, exemplifying your actions through your immortal father’s personality, you find that fighting your bloodline is one of the most difficult things to come to terms with. A thought passes in your brain that you’ve taken after the worst of them—your mother’s ambition and your father’s unpredictability.

And who would want to love someone so difficult?

Tough love is the only way you know how to love. Perhaps someone as good as Luke deserves better than this.

“It’ll be less to worry about that way,” you swallow, and the other counselors sit back in their seats as tension fills the air, signaling another disagreement about to start between your father and you.

“Good thing you don’t have to worry about it since it’s my job, right, kid? Just because you woke up on the wrong side of the bed today doesn’t mean you can change things to better fit your schedule instead of the rest of ours.”

Mr. D scowls, and then again maybe you’re too much like your father—too brash, too mouthy, and self-serving, and your eyes meet Luke’s again as your mouth pulls into a bitter smile.

“It’s the first and last time it’ll ever happen. Gods know I don’t get sick days around here picking up after you,” you spit out harshly, words coming out like acid.

“Just saying kid. Haven’t seen you this careless in years— Maybe check yourself before telling us what to do, yeah?”

Your father’s words have a double meaning as he stares into your soul, glancing between you and Luke, who is none the wiser, still focused on you. Annabeth is holding his hand under the table as you watch his jaw flex. He can see right through the shoddy performance you put on of having it all together.

Does everyone know?

Your lips pucker as you roll your neck from locking, and a humorless laugh slips from you. Everyone else’s eyes are on Luke, who looks like he’s about to jump across the table and wring a god’s neck.

Fuck.

“Whatever. I’m not doing this today,” you grumble, feeling overwhelmed. The chair screeches against the wood of the floor as you push yourself up, fists stained with ink and clenched in teenage angst as you walk to the door to make a quick escape.

Your father crosses his arms smugly at the success of getting under your skin, and the last words you hear as you leave are, “You never want to hear the truth, kid. Must you always be so…. you?”

Your steps falter for a moment, feeling heavier knowing he’s right so you let go of the door to let it slam it behind you. There’s a commotion inside after you leave but you couldn’t be bothered to give a damn.

It’s time to party and you’re sure as hell getting drunk, high, or both tonight.

—

It takes about two cups of wine for the inebriation to start kicking into Luke’s system. He’d never been much of a drinker, but with the way you’re throwing your head back at Lee’s jokes as he plays the guitar, he thinks he should drink a bit more to forget the fear in your eyes this morning and how Lee keeps touching your waist.

He’s been suspended from counselor duties for the rest of the month for mouthing off at Mr. D in your defense, and even if Annabeth tells him he’s lucky to have not met a worse fate, the way things played out today makes him feel like the most unlucky guy at camp. Fuck the gods, or at least…fuck your dads (that doesn’t sound right, but he’s too busy watching the moonlight glint against your skin that whatever his ex is whispering next to him goes in one ear and out the other).

“Lukey?” Skye mumbles against his neck, “I miss you…you’re always busy doing who knows what!”

Well… you have a name, Luke thinks, taking a big gulp of whatever’s left in his cup as his eyes follow you across the beach. You’re dancing around the bonfire spinning a tipsy Clarisse who laughs without a care in the world. He thinks you’re the best of your parents—determined to achieve your goals, selfless when it comes to others’ needs, and passionate about what you want. Mr. D will never get to see this side of you—the one you show your friends and this place you all call home. He’ll never be deserving of the work you put into Camp Half-Blood (and to some extent, Luke knows he doesn’t deserve you either).

A dejected sigh brushes warm air against his shoulder.

“You know, Castellan. I wish I met you first,” the blond daughter of Athena slurs with tears forming in her eyes.

“What are you talking about?”

“The two of you have always… it’s always been you and her. Even if you both don’t want to admit it. It’s not fair,” she hiccups. Luke pulls the cup out of his ex-lover’s hand and she shakes her head.

“Skye, you’re drunk. I’ll take you back to 6.”

“You really don’t see it do you?” Her hands grapple onto Luke’s shirt like she’s pulling him down and pleading for him to understand.

“That girl is in love with you. The both of you are meant for each other—and you’re both spending too much time trying to fight fate. The rest of us aren’t as lucky, but we sure as hell aren’t stupid.”

There’s a moment of clarity that hits as he looks into Skye’s eyes, and he scratches the back of his neck.

“You don’t mean that.”

“I meant what I said when we broke up a few years ago. You’re both always looking for each other, even if you don’t know it. Just meet in the middle already, for gods’ sake…I’ll be okay,” she sighs, sitting up on the log they were resting on.

“Your girlfriend is sure as hell to give me a hangover worth her title of being Dionysus’ kid in the morning anyways,” she mutters, kissing Luke on his cheek as a farewell. But out of all of the things to catch your attention that night, Luke’s blush glows in the light of the fire, and he watches you frown and stomp off toward the forest.

For being the son of the god of luck, his dad really won’t give him a break.

It didn’t help that Skye suddenly started projectile vomiting seconds after you left (off of her only cup of wine; wonder how that happened).

—

Luke fights through his growing intoxication on the walk back towards the cabins, but boy are you difficult when you’re angry—you’ve always had a profound effect on his being, even more so with your powers. He makes a wrong turn somewhere through the woods, completely missing the cabins, which he doesn’t realize until he stumbles across the path leading to the Big House. When his eyes focus, he spots Mr. D sipping on a glass as he leans on the railing of the front porch. Be calm and don’t act drunk, Luke tells himself, but all of his concentration goes into not swaying in front of the god of wine that he can’t stop the words from coming out of his mouth.

“Good evening, um…sir.”

“Kid, it’s 3 in the morning. What the hell are you doing here? Gods know it’s not my window you’re trying to climb up. You’re a bit of a ways off.”

Now what the fuck was he supposed to say to that?

Luke freezes in his spot (in reality he bumps into the first wooden step and sticks a hand out to steady himself against the railing).

“Are you drunk?”

Mr. D looks at him knowingly like it’s almost funny to him, eyebrows furrowed and head quirked like he can sniff it off of him. He probably can, now that Luke thinks really hard about it.

“I’m not gonna answer that because I think you know the answer already,” the son of Hermes words carefully, but nothing smart can come of this. It’s like playing chess with checkers, and Dionysus of all gods would know—no breathalyzer needed.

There’s a beat of silence, before Mr. D says, “I’m gonna give you another chance to–”

“Yes, I’m drunk, but it’s not Trouble’s fault—it’s mine!” he blabbers, walking closer to your father.

“She’s mad at me for defending her from you earlier besides the fact I act stupid around her and I only had a few cups, I swear, but she’s…your daughter is…extraordinary.”

“What?”

“Your daughter makes me feel drunk, sir. Even without the wine. I don’t know what to do with myself, just please don’t get mad at her. She has a lot more to lose…” He feels pathetic in all sense of the word, rubbing at his eyes until Mr. D snaps his fingers and the alcohol blanket lifts from his senses. Like a bucket of cold water splashed onto his spine, Luke is suddenly very awake, and all too embarrassed for the waterfall of words he’s told your father.

“Oh.”

“I didn’t know she knew how to do that yet. She’s learning quickly.” Mr. D looks out into the distance, the dim light of the cabins acting like a beacon of light in the middle of the campgrounds.

Luke wrings his hands, picking at his thumbs and he’s sure he’s about to get kicked out of camp for his behavior, much less the fact that he’s been fraternizing with the director’s daughter.

“Sometimes I think she knows too much.” He licks his lips, awkwardly standing next to the god and wondering if the dark liquid in his cup is wine.

“Do you think I don’t know that, Luke? Do you really think I don’t know about the parties? I let her have her fun too you know— I'm the one that keeps Chiron asleep. She doesn’t ask for much. I know I give her a hard time. I’m just….”

There are a few things about Mr. D’s statement that surprise Luke: the fact that he actually knows his name, how he safeguards his daughter’s interests, and the possibility of a god actually knowing how to be a good parent.

It still doesn’t take away from the countless times he’s seen you put yourself down because of your father, the inadequacy you feel from the responsibilities you take on, and how you’d do anything for simple applause. Tough love is still love with a heavy hand. And it leaves bruises, whether he meant it or not.

“Is that why you’ve never sent her on an actual quest? We all know picking up the twins doesn’t count in the grand scheme of things.”

“For what? To achieve glory? Recognition? I never understood why we Olympians do that. Send children off to their deaths to deserve a moment of their godrent’s time, or a gift to shut them up. I don’t need her to be a hero, she doesn’t have anything she needs to prove to me. I need her to be my daughter, and preferably alive. That’s enough for me.”

Luke takes a step back in disbelief. There’s something in his being that yearns to be loved like that, without having to prove it or needing to deserve it. It hurts almost, the way he wants to be loved like your family loves you. Your father, an Olympian, standing in front of him telling him that your existence is enough to be worthy of his presence. In the silence that follows, Luke wonders if he’ll ever have that.

“You should tell her that more often, sir.”

“Listen. She’s a good kid, I just give her a hard time because it’s hard to get attached to you mortals. Your lives are so short compared to the infinite timeline I live. I can do everything in my power to try to keep her safe, but I can’t stop her from leaving. So don’t blame me if I act needy if it’ll keep her here for a bit longer. I’ll take all the time I can get.”

“Then how do I tell her I love her with without either of us running away?”

Mr. D laughs loudly now, his wrinkles crinkling as liquid sloshes out of his cup. It turns out to be grape juice you left out for him before the party.

“Mortals always busy themselves with trivial things, like pride and sorrow. Pandora’s box left you humans with nothing but hope. I say you swallow the negative and just say it how it is. You’ll have a lot more time being happier together that way. I already lost my bet against some of the counselors anyway.”

“What bet?”

Your dad swats at Luke like he’s a dog to kick, and tosses his glass over his shoulder where it disappears in the night air.

“Get off my porch Castellan, and just know if you hurt her…”

“I’d die before that happens, sir.”

“That would hurt her most of all. Think about what that means. For gods’ sake she’s left her light on for you, so go on before I set the harpies on you. And don’t call me sir, it freaks me out. You’re still not special to me.” Mr. D stalks back inside the Big House, and Luke takes that as his cue to leave. The cold night air pushes him back towards the cabins, the light in your window luring him in like a ship lost at sea.

—

“I know you’re still awake, Trouble.”

You hear him move closer to the bed as you keep your eyes shut, evening out your breaths, but you’re never able to hide anything from Luke anymore.

“I thought I closed that window,” you mumble, turning your face more towards your pillow.

“You didn’t.”

Of course, you didn’t. You were hoping he’d chase after you this time around, even if you made him drunk in more ways than one.

“Skye keep you busy?” you say nonchalantly, and you hear Luke laugh as he tugs your duvet off of you.

“Your dad did, actually,” he says grinning, watching your eyes pop open in confusion as you turn and face him, propping yourself up on your knees.

“What the fuck?”

“You could’ve gotten me kicked out y’know? Stumbled onto his porch telling him about how drunk you make me feel even without a drop of alcohol and how I don’t know what the fuck to do with myself when I’m around you.”

“You shouldn’t be so brave to fight gods like that for me. Even if it’s my dad, Castellan,” you whisper, and he kneels next to your bed so he can look at you in the eyes from an equal standpoint. Because that’s what the two of you are— equal, singular, one and the same. And he’s never made you feel less than, even if your brain tries to convince you of it.

“Stop that,” he scoffs, shaking his head as he grabs your hands, “stop calling me my last name like it detaches you from how you feel about me. I want you to stop pretending when it's just you and me,” he pleads, whispering your name so softly that the sound of it brushes against your lips.

There’s something more intimate in the way he looks at you now compared to when you were naked and nestled against him this past morning. The act of knowing that it’s you and him, no matter how hard you try to fight it.

His knuckle brushes against your jaw, pushing your eyes to look back into his, and you can’t deny him any longer.

“Hey. I love you, and I know you feel the same; I'm tired of you acting like you're not and I’m going crazy he—”

His words are halted by your lips surging forward to meet him in the middle. The culmination of years of friendship has brought you to this special moment frozen in time, and sure, demigods die young but this must be what he’ll see in Elysium. If there’s a single memory he can bring with him to his next life, he hopes it’s this one—the taste of you and how it feels to be loved like this, without question or reason. You pull away with a sweet smile and he feels drunk again.

“You’re my best friend, Angelface,” you mumble.

Okay, now that sobered him up faster than it should have.

Luke stiffens, his hands falling to your thighs as he starts to ramble, “If you’re actually friendzoning me right now I might just roll out of your window and feed myself to a harpy.”

The laugh that comes out of you booms across the room as you wrap your arms around him with a radiant smile. You always have so much to say, but right now only three words come to mind. Five vowels, three consonants, and the gravity of it pushes out of your mouth like there’s no better truth to tell.

“I love you. I think I’ve been in love with you even before I liked you and I’m sorry I’ve been too scared to say it. I’m not used to…”

Luke sighs in relief, as he presses his scarred cheek against your shoulder.

“You think I’m not scared of us either, Trouble? I worship the ground you walk on, and everyone can see that.”

“Well I’m not a god, Luke,” you say tugging him up by his mop of curls as your legs wrap around him.

“Sometimes when I’m with you, I think you’re the closest thing to it,” he whispers, pulling your chin down for another kiss until you both get your fill. He thinks he can kiss you forever until the end of your short lives, until it’s senseless and maddening, like falling into a drunken stupor. Loving you is an experience he’ll never be able to rid himself of, heart stained with the best of you until both your fingertips are red and raw with the feeling.

You pull him back into your bed as your giggles fill the early morning air. He’s quickly becoming what you love most about waking up in the morning.

—

Chris Rodriguez wakes up to the sound of the morning birds and chattering children in the busy cabin 11. As he rubs at his eyes, ready to take on the day as an interim cabin counselor for the rest of the month because of Luke’s suspension, sunlight falls onto the one empty bunk in the corner of the room (Fact: There is never an empty bed in the Hermes cabin. Also a fact: he and Chiron will be able to cash in against the other counselors as fast as his feet can take him to the Big House).

—

“To love someone is firstly to confess; I’m prepared to be devastated by you.” Billy Ray Belcourt

ask to be added to luke/general taglists!

luke taglist (some won't let me tag, turn on my post notifs?): @kissingyourgrl @dorcas4meadowes @lorarri @andrewgarfldsgf @noodlesketchbook @10ava01 @poppysrin @ashisabitgay @timhalamet @liv1104 @leeknows-wife @mxtokko @bugcuti3 @luvvfromme @midmourn @2hiigh2cry @yuminako @niktwazny303 @lukecastellandefender @intergalactic-padawan @iliketopgun @annybah @dangelnleif @thegrinningghost @alyssajunelle @obxstiles @m00ng4z3r @visndcaitswhore @b0ok-lover @elegant-face-tree @this-barbie-is-having-breakdowns @amortencjja @idonevenknow1359 @maliaaaa @targaryenluvs @sakyira @dhdjdjjdhsjdiri @number-onekidqueen @nininehaaa @bradynoonswife @stevenknightmarc @hoodedhavok @happy-mushrooms @homebyeleven @anotherblackreader @too-deviant @liviessun @lilacspider @theadventuresofanartist @sucker4seresin @simpforsunwoo @zanzie @starrystormwritings

#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x dionysus!reader #pjo x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #luke castellan angst #made by ma1dita ♥︎#🪽#percy series #thank you for reading my love ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

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basicallyreigenarataka · 5 months ago

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jjk men x streamer!reader

╰┈➤ Collab?

chapter three

ೃ⁀➷ you’ve blown up on twitter and shoko gives geto your number! ft. the hat man…

* not proof read, crack, this chap is mostly pics rather than writing, mentions of drugs

masterlist. prev. next.

after ending stream with choso, you’ve noticed twitters been going crazy. man, you were right, maybe you shouldn’t have streamed with gojo. fame was not your thing. this guy, geto was it? has been blowing up your dms asking to stream with you, chosos friends are trying to dm you, and gojo is mad over something you are too tired to ask him about.

and why did utahime agree that you’re a whore????

please do NOT take more than 2 benadryls a day guys 🙏

taglist

@estella-novella @ourfinalisation @definetlynotanalien @fuckisthatahotghost @m-0ona @sillybillylamb @ayla-1605 @l-ilysm @randoperson22 @mentallyunpresent @poopooindamouf @1ennj4 @ex1acy @lunavelha @trsh-kitty @b3bybunny @onna-musha-mari @onlypickless @moncher-ire @ieathairs @minzxec @marvellousdaisy @etsuniiru

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midnightmarginalia · 1 year ago

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@butterfly-casket @unmakeyourself @pan-galactic-enby

there’s always those 3 or 4 mutuals that always like and reblog ur stuff and i just wanna say thanks and stay cool

#ilysm <3 #mutuals <3 #also hi prev #ur very cool and i like ur art

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huxhsz · 3 months ago

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— weightless paradise

transmigrated non-mc!reader x caleb

prev ch: 28 - life┆series masterlist ┆next ch: 30 - messages

This isn’t how the game was supposed to go. You're not supposed to be here. You're an anomaly. But if you’re already here, then… can’t you just enjoy it for now? Just for a little while? Before the main story begins? Before everything inevitably falls into place? ...Right?

note/s: i just realized i don't leave notes here… whoops. but yes, i do read your comments n reblogs (i'm also very much scared to reply to any of them, but i'm thankful for all your support! it always makes me happy to see all of your comments <3 thank you to all my readers ilysm!!)

first of all, we're almost at chapter 30, which was the original amount of chapters this fanfic was supposed to have. but look at us now! it’s been such a wild, emotional ride, and i’m so grateful to every single one of you who’s been with me along the way. seriously, you all have been such a huge part of this journey, and i can’t believe how far we’ve come. i can’t even put into words how much your support, comments, and enthusiasm have meant to me. it keeps me going every single time i sit down to write, knowing you’re all out there enjoying this story with me.

the fact that we’re getting close to chapter 30—my original goal—feels bittersweet. it’s like i’m reaching a big milestone, but at the same time, i’ve realized this world, these characters, and this plot have so much more to offer than i ever expected. i’m not ready to say goodbye just yet.

but i also want to take a moment to say thank you for sticking with me. the fact that you’ve all embraced these characters—especially the mess that is our trio—makes my heart feel so full. i know i throw a lot at you all with the emotional twists, the tension, the slow-burn, and even when things get a little ooc (seriously, thank you for being so patient with me!), and i love reading how invested everyone has become. your reactions have been everything. i’m so glad you guys are still enjoying this story—i am too, even if sometimes posting every day gets a bit stressful (but in a good way, you know? like a good kind of chaos).

we’ve got a long way to go before the main story kicks off, and that’s exciting and terrifying at the same time, haha. there are so many layers and so many places i want to take these characters. and even though the pace might feel like it’s picking up, there’s so much more to explore, so many more revelations and emotional beats to hit. i can’t wait to take you all on this journey, and i hope you’ll stick around until the very end!

thank you so, so much for your love and patience. it’s honestly the best feeling to know that there are people out there who love these characters and this world as much as i do. you all inspire me to keep going. <3

cross-posted on ao3! ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡

CH. 029 — UNCHARTED WATERS

The room feels colder now, a chill that isn’t from the air outside but from the uncertainty crawling down your spine.

You never meant for this to happen. You only wanted to write—just to get it out of your head, to sort through the tangled memories of Love and Deepspace and make sense of it all. But somewhere along the way, the lines blurred. The past you remember from the game, the present you’re living now, the future that looms ahead like an unanswered question—it’s all starting to bleed together, tangled and messy, refusing to stay in their separate boxes.

Chronosight has always been a mystery to you—more of a curse than a gift. You’ve seen glimpses of the future before, scattered images that you were powerless to stop. And yet, as your thoughts drift further into the past, as you think of the game, of Caleb, of all the moments that led you here...

You feel it.

That subtle pull in your chest, the hum of power just beneath your skin. A thread waiting to be tugged.

This time, you don’t turn away from it.

Maybe you’ve been avoiding it for too long. Maybe you’ve been afraid—not just of what you’ll see, but of what it means.

But now, as the weight of your silence presses in, you wonder if maybe, just maybe, it’s time to stop running.

So you close your eyes.

And for the first time, you reach for the past.

It’s like stepping into a memory, but it’s not your own. It’s distant, old and unfamiliar, but it’s clear.

You see it, vividly, like you’re standing there. The lab is dim, lit only by the pale light of the long hallways and the distant glow of monitors. It’s summer, hot and still. The hum of the air conditioning is the only sound, a gentle reminder of how long you've been here. Caleb is standing beside you, the both of you wearing the drab lab clothes that marked your childhood.

You watch yourself—yourself. You’re holding something in your hand, a piece of fabric or paper, but it doesn’t matter. You can feel the nervousness, the anticipation bubbling up inside you. Caleb's eyes are wide, his expression a mix of wonder and restraint, the way he always held himself back even when he was desperate to break free.

He’s looking at the door—the one that leads to the outside world. You’re standing just behind him, your face half-hidden in the shadow of the corridor. His hand reaches for the handle, but you can already see the hesitation in his movements. The weight of the rules, the years of confinement, pressing down on him.

You’ve never seen the outside world, have you? you think to yourself, watching him, knowing the truth even as you see him there.

You’re here, at this moment, because you know Caleb. You remember him before all this—before the lab. You know the boy who couldn’t wait to escape, who could barely sit still even as the world outside was nothing but a dream.

And you... you’ve read about this in the game. You’ve seen it, the way the characters interact, the choices they make. But it’s different now. This is real. This is you and Caleb, standing on the precipice of something new.

You’ve never stepped outside yourself, not in this world. Your memories, your knowledge of the outside world—of Earth—are fragments, flashes of a life you lived before all of this. A life that doesn’t belong here. You weren’t supposed to remember any of it. And yet, the details of the outside world are seared into your mind, from the moments you lived before this world, from the things you learned from the game.

You can’t explain it. Maybe it’s the power of Chronosight, showing you things you shouldn’t know. But somehow, you know things about the outside world that Caleb never could.

"Ready?" you hear yourself ask in the past, your voice shaky, uncertain but full of excitement.

Caleb hesitates for a fraction of a second before nodding. “Yeah,” he says, his voice tight, “but we can’t stay out too long. We’ll get caught.”

“You won’t get caught,” you say, your words brimming with something like defiance. You don’t fully believe them yourself, but you want to believe it. You want to believe that for once, you can be free.

The door opens slowly, creaking like it hasn’t been used in years. Caleb looks back at you, his eyes wide and glowing with excitement.

You step forward, barely breathing, waiting for the rush of cool air that comes with stepping into the unknown.

But then, it’s all shattered.

The sound of footsteps echo down the hallway. The door swings back, and you feel the weight of the world come crashing down. The guards.

Caleb’s hand freezes on the door handle. You can almost hear his heart pounding in his chest. His shoulders slump, his dreams of freedom evaporating in an instant. He looks back at you, frustration, helplessness written all over his face.

"Let’s go," you whisper, a tug of disappointment in your chest. There’s no time. No escape.

You both step back into the shadows. Caleb’s face is tight, his jaw clenched in a way you’ve seen before. The door shuts with a soft thud behind you.

But you remember that moment. You remember his eyes, his first taste of freedom. You remember how, for the briefest moment, he felt like he was outside, like he could breathe again.

Eden wasn’t with you that day, you realize. She was always kept apart from you two, carefully kept away from your plans and your escapes. She would have been the one to giggle and prod, urging you on.

But the reality is, she wasn’t there. Not because she couldn’t join you, but because she was the youngest, the one who was still learning about the world and still too innocent to fully understand the weight of what you were doing. She would have pushed you both to escape regardless of the consequences, but she wasn’t there that day.

She was probably off somewhere else, being kept busy and away from you and Caleb's rebellion. You imagine her dragging a guard around, asking too many questions, looking for trouble in her own way.

But that didn’t matter, because at that moment, it was just you and Caleb. Just two kids dreaming of the world beyond the lab’s cold walls.

And now, as you stand here, watching the scene unfold before you, you feel something strange. A sense of nostalgia, perhaps. A longing for something you’ve never truly had.

It’s strange, seeing your world through the lens of Chronosight. You’ve lived through this moment before, seen it from a distance, but this is different. This time, you’re an outsider—watching them, watching Caleb, knowing how it all turned out.

You wish you could have changed something. Done something differently.

But there’s no going back.

You blink, the vision fading away as Chronosight flickers and weakens. The weight of the room settles back in around you. The past is gone, and you’re left with nothing but the present, the steady ticking of the clock.

And the question still lingers in your mind—What does Chronosight really do?

Is it just glimpses of the past, the future, and the present? Or is there something more?

You stare at your hands, feeling the weight of time in your grasp. You have so many questions, and yet no answers.

And somewhere in the distance, you wonder if you’ll ever truly find your way.

The weight of the room settles back around you, but you can’t quite shake it—what you just saw, what you just felt.

And for once, it doesn’t feel like you’re dreaming. It doesn’t feel like a memory from a game. It feels real.

Because it was.

And that’s when it hits you.

You’ve been so stupid.

This world—it isn’t some scripted backdrop. These people—Caleb, Eden—they’re not just characters on a prewritten path. They breathe, they hurt, they remember. They choose.

You press your palms to your face, trying to suppress the wave of frustration swelling in your chest.

God. You’ve been walking around this entire time like this was just some elaborate simulation. Like the world would pause when you looked away. Like you were separate from it. Like you didn’t matter.

But you do. You’ve always mattered.

Your presence here has been shifting things, hasn’t it? A little at a time. Subtle, quiet changes that snowball the longer you stay. Every conversation you weren’t supposed to have. Every moment you stole. Every time Caleb looked at you like that—like you were the center of his world.

You thought it was just part of the game.

But it’s not. He’s not. None of this is.

You groan into your hands. “I’m such an idiot.”

Because for all your supposed knowledge of Love and Deepspace, for all the lore you memorized and hours you poured into obsessing over it—you still treated the world like it was flat. Like the only cities that existed were Linkon and Skyhaven. Like the story couldn’t possibly stretch beyond the parts that were shown on-screen.

Auris wasn’t even in the game, you remember thinking earlier. So what the hell is it doing here?

And now, looking back, that thought feels so laughably narrow.

“What, did I think the world only had two cities?” you mutter to yourself, pacing now. “Do I think video games describe every single place? Does the story need to spoon-feed me every corner of a country just for me to believe it exists?”

You’re frustrated with yourself. Embarrassed. But under all of it, there’s something else.

Fear.

Because if the world is real—if this timeline is diverging, shifting, rewriting itself with every step you take—then what does that mean for you? For them? For the ending you always assumed was set in stone?

You think of Caleb. And Eden.

You’ve been telling yourself their story would unfold like it always does. That no matter how close he is to you now, eventually he’ll look at her and remember what’s “meant” to be. That all of this—his protectiveness, his warmth, the way he softens when it’s just the two of you—would fade once the main plot starts. That you’re just a placeholder. A detour.

Because Eden is the heroine. Right?

But the way Caleb looks at you—it’s not the way he looks at Eden.

And it terrifies you.

Because what if the universe tries to “correct” itself? What if he realizes you're the wrong choice? What if none of this was supposed to happen?

…What if it was?

And you’ve just been too scared to accept it.

You grip the edge of the desk, knuckles white. You can’t deny it anymore. You’re here. You’ve always been here. You’ve changed the story just by existing. You’re not watching from the outside anymore. You’re in it.

Not an NPC. Not a temporary stand-in.

A main character.

...No, not that either.

You're real. And so are they.

But even now, even as your chest tightens with everything you’ve realized—you still can’t say it out loud.

You don’t want to admit what you're feeling. Not about him. Not about Caleb.

Because he’s your friend. Just your friend.

Because even if he’s the only one who truly remembers the lab like you do. Even if his laughter used to be your only comfort in that nightmare. Even if, when the silence stretches too long, it’s his voice you crave hearing.

Even if you already know that you’re falling. Slowly. Stubbornly. Stupidly.

You still believe, in some deep, bruised part of you, that the story will begin for real soon—and when it does, you’ll be left behind.

#lads #lnds #love and deepspace #caleb x reader #caleb xia #caleb x you #lnds caleb #lads caleb #love and deepspace caleb

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lumberrobot · 9 months ago

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Password Protected

pham hanni x fem!reader

notes: this is to the bday girl (2 fics for her ilysm hanni ifnowafo) C:

(if you're wondering how I wrote this so fast, the prev one was long overdue already WBDBIWD)

warning/s: none (I think)

genre: fluff

The room was bathed in a soft, shadowy stillness, broken only by the hum of the air conditioner overhead. The curtains were half-drawn, letting in just enough moonlight to cast faint outlines of furniture against the walls. Hanni’s room felt quiet, almost too quiet for her restless mind. Her bed, though comfortable, had done little to settle the buzzing thoughts swirling in her head.

The day had been long, and she hoped a few minutes of mindless scrolling would help wind her down before bed. Hanni’s phone glowed in the dim light, illuminating her face as she swiped through her social media feed. But tonight felt different.

As her thumb hovered over the app icon, the notification that usually connected her phone to the Wi-Fi didn’t appear. She frowned, swiping down on her screen. No connection.

“Great,” she muttered, recalling that her neighbor’s Wi-Fi had been down again.

Hanni sighed, watching the list of available networks populate on her phone. There it was—Y/N’s Wi-Fi, locked with the familiar little icon. She bit her lip, fingers hovering over the password field.

Their relationship was awkward at best—sharing a space but never crossing into genuine friendship. Sarcastic remarks, half-hearted jokes, the passing greetings, and occasional shared glances in the kitchen made up their interactions. What was she supposed to do—knock on Y/N’s door in the middle of the night?

No, she’d figure it out on her own.

She tried entering random combinations of numbers and variations of Y/N’s name, her frustration growing with each failed attempt. Then, as a half-joke to herself, she typed in “hannipham.” A ridiculous guess—no one actually used someone else’s name as a password. Right?

But when the tiny bars appeared at the top of the screen, confirming the connection, Hanni froze. Her eyes widened as the reality of what had just happened sank in.

Wait… what?

The soft light of her phone suddenly felt glaring, her pulse quickening in her chest. She was connected. The password had worked. The password—her name—had worked.

Hanni blinked, gripping her phone tighter as the weight of the realization settled in. What did this mean? Could Y/N have set her Wi-Fi password to Hanni’s name… intentionally?

Her thoughts raced, piecing together fragments of the past few months. All the awkward exchanges, the moments she had convinced herself were nothing, now shifted into something far more significant.

Flashback 1: The Weird Question

One morning, a few months back, Hanni had been minding her own business, eating cereal, when Y/N, in the middle of pouring herself coffee, suddenly asked, “So… are you seeing anyone?”

Hanni had choked on her cereal, the question completely out of left field. She coughed, reaching for a glass of water to buy herself a second to think. Y/N had never asked anything personal before.

“Uh, no… I’m not. Why?” Hanni had tried to keep her voice steady, but she couldn’t help the suspicion creeping in. Did Y/N know something?

Y/N had shrugged, stirring her coffee like it was no big deal. “Just curious.”

The tension had been thick, and Hanni couldn’t resist turning the question around. “Are you seeing someone?”

Y/N had looked up, blinking in surprise. “Me? No… Why?”

Hanni had laughed nervously, avoiding eye contact, the whole situation feeling weirder by the second. After that, they hadn’t spoken about it again. But that moment had left Hanni wondering—

Why was Y/N curious?

Flashback 2: The Shared Blanket

The next memory that bubbled to the surface was one of those small, awkward moments Hanni had tried not to overthink. They’d been sitting on the couch during movie night, wrapped in the same blanket—something that felt normal at first but quickly spiraled into something else.

At some point, their arms had brushed under the blanket, and both of them had gone stiff. Neither moved, neither spoke, but the warmth from that small touch lingered. Hanni remembered how badly she had wanted to lean in closer, to let their arms touch again, but she didn’t.

She had tried to laugh it off. “You know, maybe we should get two blankets.”

Y/N had chuckled, though she sounded just as nervous. “Yeah… maybe.”

Hanni had regretted saying it almost instantly, wishing she hadn’t ruined the moment. But Y/N had gotten up soon after, claiming she needed water. That night, they sat farther apart for the rest of the movie.

Flashback 3: The Accidental Sleepover

Then there was that time they had both fallen asleep on the couch after a late-night movie marathon. When Hanni woke up, her arm was draped over Y/N’s waist. She froze, not wanting to move, not wanting to break the spell, but Y/N woke up soon after.

The look of surprise on Y/N’s face had been unmistakable. She had bolted up, cheeks flushed, and mumbled a quick “morning” before hurrying off to her room, leaving Hanni to sit there in the aftermath of what could have been a cute moment.

Flashback 4: The Mixed Laundry Incident

There was also the time Hanni had been folding laundry and found one of her shirts mixed in with Y/N’s clothes. She had walked in on Y/N in the middle of folding it, the blue shirt dangling awkwardly from her hands.

“Uh… is this yours?” Y/N had asked, her face turning pink.

Hanni had teased her. “What, you’re stealing my clothes now?”

Y/N had mumbled something about “getting mixed up in the laundry,” but Hanni had caught her whispering, “smells like you.”

That had thrown Hanni for a loop, but she had tried to laugh it off, pretending she hadn’t heard. She didn’t want to read too much into things, even though a part of her definitely wanted to.

Flashback 5: The “Cooking” Playlist

And of course, there had been the infamous cooking playlist incident. Hanni had been making dinner, humming along to music, when Y/N walked in. Hanni had been feeling relaxed—until she realized the songs that had been playing were all slow, romantic ballads.

When Y/N leaned against the counter, smirking, and said, “Interesting playlist,” Hanni had nearly dropped the spoon into the pot of pasta.

“Uh, yeah, just… random songs,” Hanni had stammered, scrambling to change the music. But the damage had already been done. Y/N had walked away, grinning like she knew exactly what had been playing, leaving Hanni red-faced and cursing the Spotify algorithm.

=========

All those moments had been awkward, funny, and confusing, but now they made sense. Y/N had set her Wi-Fi password to Hanni’s name. She must have been thinking about her… right?

Hanni stared at her phone, the realization hitting her full force. Could it be that Y/N had been feeling the same way this whole time? And if she had… what should Hanni do about it?

With her heart racing, Hanni knew she couldn’t let this slide. She needed to find out what this all meant. But one thing was certain—Y/N had just revealed a whole lot more than she intended with that password.

This was no accident, and maybe, just maybe, Y/N had been hiding feelings, too—just a little better than Hanni had.

She glanced at her phone again, a plan forming in her mind. Maybe it was time to stop tiptoeing around the awkwardness and confront the truth.

=========

When Hanni found Y/N the next day, it wasn’t as dramatic as she’d imagined. Instead, Y/N was sitting at the kitchen table, sipping her morning coffee like it was just another Tuesday.

Hanni had spent the entire night thinking about the Wi-Fi password revelation. Part of her wanted to storm in, confront Y/N, and demand answers. But another part of her—the cautious, unsure part—didn’t want to overplay her hand. What if it was just some random coincidence? What if it was nothing?

But “hannipham” as the password wasn’t nothing, and Hanni knew she had to find out.

With her heart pounding in her chest, Hanni leaned against the kitchen doorframe, eyeing Y/N as she scrolled through her phone, completely unaware of the storm brewing in Hanni’s mind.

Casual. Keep it casual.

“So,” Hanni began, crossing her arms and keeping her voice as nonchalant as possible, “I, uh, tried to mooch off your Wi-Fi last night.”

Y/N looked up, eyebrow raised, clearly curious but not suspicious yet. “Oh, yeah? Finally decided to cave and use mine instead of the neighbor’s weak signal?”

Hanni chuckled, trying to steady her nerves. “Yeah… about that. I couldn’t figure out the password, so I just, you know, typed in ‘hannipham’ as a joke.”

She let that hang in the air for a moment, waiting for Y/N’s reaction.

Y/N blinked, her face freezing for just a split second before she schooled her features back into a neutral expression. But Hanni had caught that tiny flicker of panic—the brief widening of Y/N’s eyes, the twitch of her lips.

“Really?” Y/N’s voice was calm, too calm. She took another sip of coffee, pretending like the whole thing wasn’t a big deal. “And, uh… did it work?”

Hanni couldn’t help but grin, her confidence building now that she knew Y/N had slipped up. “Oh, it worked.”

Y/N set her mug down, her fingers tapping the table nervously. She didn’t meet Hanni’s gaze right away, staring down at the table as if she was suddenly very interested in the wood grain pattern.

“Okay, so… maybe I set it as the password,” Y/N finally admitted, her voice soft but steady. “But it doesn’t mean anything, you know. I mean, I could’ve just picked it because it’s easy to remember. It’s not like—”

“Y/N.”

Hanni’s tone wasn’t accusatory, but it was enough to make Y/N finally look up. There was something unreadable in her eyes, like she was weighing her options, trying to decide whether to run with the joke or come clean.

“Look, it’s fine if it doesn’t mean anything,” Hanni said, trying to sound casual even though her heart was practically in her throat. “But if it does… well, I wouldn’t mind knowing.”

Y/N swallowed hard, and for a moment, Hanni thought she was going to laugh it off, turn the whole thing into some silly misunderstanding. Y/N’s eyes flicked toward the door as if considering an exit, her shoulders tense like she was ready to make a run for it. But then Y/N exhaled, running a hand through her hair, clearly trying to figure out what to say next.

“Okay, fine,” Y/N muttered, her voice barely above a whisper. “Maybe it does mean something.”

Hanni’s heart skipped a beat, her breath catching in her throat. She didn’t dare interrupt, afraid that if she spoke, Y/N would clam up again.

Y/N sighed, her shoulders sagging slightly as if the weight of the confession was finally catching up to her. “I’ve had a thing for you, okay? For a while now. I just didn’t know how to… say it. And I figured setting the Wi-Fi password to your name was the closest I’d ever get to telling you.”

She stood up then, pushing her chair back with a quiet scrape against the floor, her movements slow and deliberate. As she stood, she smiled awkwardly, like she wasn’t sure if she should be embarrassed or relieved, her gaze finally meeting Hanni's.

Hanni blinked, momentarily stunned by the honesty. Out of all the ways she’d imagined Y/N confessing—if that ever happened—this was definitely not how she’d pictured it. But here it was, laid out in the open, raw and real.

She let out a soft laugh, shaking her head in disbelief. “You do realize there are better ways to tell someone you like them than making their name your Wi-Fi password, right?”

Y/N’s smile turned sheepish, a faint blush creeping up her neck. “Yeah, well, subtlety’s not my strong suit.”

Hanni stepped forward, closing the space between them. She stopped just in front of Y/N, their eyes locking, the air between them charged with all the unsaid things that had been lingering for months.

“You don’t have to be subtle with me,” Hanni said softly, her voice dropping just enough for Y/N to understand that this wasn’t a joke anymore. “I’ve been wondering if you felt the same way. I just didn’t know how to bring it up.”

Y/N’s eyes widened, as if she couldn’t quite believe what she was hearing. “Wait, you like me?”

Hanni laughed, the sound light and teasing. “God, you’re dense sometimes, aren’t you? All those awkward moments we’ve had, all the times I tried to get close… Did you think that was just me being friendly?”

Y/N opened her mouth to respond, but no words came out. Instead, she just stared at Hanni, blinking in disbelief.

“So,” Hanni continued, her voice a little lower now, “since we’ve established that the Wi-Fi password means something, what do we do next?”

Y/N bit her lip, looking both nervous and excited at the same time. She glanced at Hanni, then down at her hands, fiddling with the hem of her shirt. “I guess… we could stop being awkward about it?”

Hanni smiled, feeling the tension between them finally dissolve. “I like the sound of that.”

For a moment, they just stood there, the silence between them comfortable for the first time in what felt like forever. Hanni could feel the shift in the air, the way everything seemed lighter now that the truth was out.

“So… dinner tonight?” Y/N asked, her voice hopeful but cautious, as if she was still afraid Hanni might pull away.

Hanni grinned, the warmth of Y/N’s confession still buzzing in her chest. “Dinner sounds perfect.”

There was a brief pause, both of them soaking in the weight of what had just happened. Y/N then shifted a little, a playful smile creeping onto her face.

“And hey, maybe during dinner… we could play that cooking playlist you’re so proud of.”

Hanni let out a surprised laugh, shaking her head in disbelief. “Oh my God, that again? I should’ve known you’d bring it up.”

And just like that, the invisible wall that had kept them apart for so long crumbled, leaving nothing but the truth—and the possibility of something new—between them.

#newjeans imagines #new jeans x reader #newjeans x reader #newjeans imagine #hanni x reader #newjeans hanni #newjeans #kpop x reader

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