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msgexymunson · 4 months

Text

Benefits

Description: Your best friend Eddie starts to look very appealing to you, but if you suggest a dynamic change, will he go for it?

Warnings: NSFW, Minors DNI, AFAB reader, weed smoking, virgin Eddie x virgin reader, grinding, fingering, fem oral receiving.

A/N: I just wanted to write a little goofy, not so confident Eddie and this poured out of my brain hole. Enjoy! Reblogs and comments keep me alive so please for the love of all that is smutty reblog if you enjoy it!

5k words

Masterlist

“All I'm saying is…” you take a big pull of the joint Eddie wiggles at you, his rough fingers brushing your lips. Your voice comes out croaky as hell when you speak, holding the smoke in, “...you can't do the voice.”

The film plays quietly in the background as you both hang out on his couch, paying little attention to it.

Eddie scoffs at you, taking the smoke back, and takes a big lug of it himself, hand coming to rest on your bare ankle that was thrown casually over his lap.

“What you trying to say? You know I can do voices. I could totally do Vader.”

Giggling, you wiggle your feet as he lightly drags his fingers over them.

“Don't do that, you know it tickles!”

Holding his hands up and away from you, you almost miss the contact. Which was insane. This is Eddie, for fucks sake. Your best friend. The asshole who made you nearly piss your pants in seventh grade from tickling too hard, who does stupid shit to get you to smile when you're sad.

Recently though, the little lingering touches he gives you make your toes curl. Those glances that last a little too long for best friends, the drag of his hand on your back when you move through a crowd. It was crazy, but a part of you couldn't help but think he was feeling the same way. It wasn't like you were in love with the guy, at least not like that. He was almost family. Which made the feelings that you were having sinful in a way that made your thighs clench.

The flirting didn't help. Eddie flirted as naturally as breathing. He was just so goddamn charming; he had chemistry with everyone. Which made it even more awkward. What if your salacious thoughts weren't reciprocated? Maybe it was just your raging hormones and you needed to keep them in check before you lose your best friend.

“You're wrong you know.”

Eddie's words bring you out of the daze you've been falling into; you blink at him, confused.

“Huh?”

Eddie rolls his eyes, and flashes you a smirk that does nothing to quench the fire inside, right when his large hands move to your waist and tickle you relentlessly. You're gasping giggles as he pins your hands over your head, full weight pressing into you. Somehow, he's got his narrow hips in between your thighs, which is definitely not helping the situation.

“I can totally do the voice, see?” He drops it two octaves, letting a deep bass voice flow out of him, “Luke, I am your father.”

Fuck, that shouldn't turn you on, but it did. That, and his forced proximity has you feeling uncomfortably wet. It's embarrassingly seeping into your panties; so much so that you cringe at your body's betrayal.

He's just so damn close. So close, that you see something fluttering behind those brandy wine eyes of his. Or, was it merely your imagination?

Only one way to find out.

Biting your lip, you flutter your eyelashes softly and speak in the sexiest voice you can.

“Does that mean I should call you Daddy?”

Eddie's mouth drops open in a perfect O, eyebrows knitted.

“You can't- you just- fuck!”

He clambers off of you in an attempt to put some space between you, crossing his legs on the couch. Eddie looks flustered, cheeks burning red as he looks at you like you just grew an extra head.

“I can't what, Eddie? Can't tease you like you tease me?”

“Huh? I don't tease you! When did I-”

“Oh, pinning me down don't count, huh?”

Crossing your arms over your chest, you watch as he blows air out, grabbing a cushion and ramming it in his lap.

“I didn't mean it like that, it's just, I dunno.”

Looking down at his hands, he fiddles with his rings. The sheepishness he's showing is adorable, and so unlike him that it stops you in your tracks. Maybe you should just go easy on him, just a little.

“Don't worry about it Eds, I'm just fucking around.”

There's a bit of tension released from his shoulders, but he's still not looking at you.

Fuck, you need another smoke.

“You want me to roll?”

“Hell no, I've seen you roll.”

Scrunching your nose in fake anger, he laughs at you.

“Look like a little chipmunk when you do that.”

“All I hear is that you think I'm adorable.” You giggle as he mockingly rolls his eyes.

“OK, you roll, I'll grab some sodas.”

Getting up, you smooth your skirt down and walk over to the fridge. The cans are on the lower shelf, so you bend to grab two, making a mental note to tell Eddie to buy some more.

When you look back, Eddie's slid to the floor, rolling paraphernalia spread out in front of him. It would be a normal scene, if he didn't still have the cushion wedged in his lap and his face wasn't glowing redder than your underwear.

Underwear… underwear that he might have seen, since you just bent over. And the only reason why he'd keep that cushion in his lap is if he…

Oh.

Wordlessly, you put the soda next to his elbow and scoot up on the couch, entirely unsure about what you're supposed to do in a situation like this. The furthest you've ever gone is some over the clothes stuff.

Plus, this is Eddie. Your stupid, asshole, mean, tormenting, breathtakingly gorgeous best friend. You curse, wriggling a little in your seat. Your panties are so damp they're practically glued to your privates, a heat emanating from you that's making your insides burn.

“Milady.”

Eddie holds the joint to you, perfectly rolled and more surprisingly, unlit.

“Eddie, you always take the first toke. Rollers rights, remember?”

He shrugs and passes it anyway, giving you the lighter too, as he lifts himself onto the couch with both hands, letting his cushion shield drop briefly. Long enough to see the tightness in the crotch of his pants.

Now the feel of your slick is dampening your thighs. Pushing them together as tight as you can, willing the feeling to dissipate, you light it with trembling hands. One puff, two puffs, pass. As his fingers graze yours, he looks at you appraisingly.

“You alright there sweetheart? Not comfy?”

Nothings gonna happen if you just sit here and whine like a bitch in your head. Take the leap.

“It's a little, er, embarrassing.”

Knees squeezing together so hard it's bordering on painful, you look up at him through your lashes. Eddie's eyes are wide and warm, a light smile wrinkling them at the corners softly.

“It's only me, come on. You can tell me anything.”

Huffing and wriggling some more, you watch him inhale smoke, and blow it out, a slight pout to his mouth that makes you want to pepper it with soft kisses. Then hard kisses. Then, other stuff. Fuck.

“It's not- we don't, talk about this kinda stuff. I don't wanna… cross a line, you know?”

“Hey, it's alright.” His thick fingers shakily touch your knee, thumb rubbing back and forth. You're not sure if it calms you or makes you worse. It could be both.

“Fine. Just, don't look at me when I tell you this, ‘kay?”

There's a little laugh from him, then he rests his head on the back of the couch, eyes staring resolutely to the ceiling.

“Alright weirdo I'm not looking. Shoot.”

Tightening your knuckles, your face creases with the effort as you let fly the words that may well end your friendship.

“I'm uncomfortable, I'm just- fuck, I'm really wet, OK?”

Of all the things you could say, you know Eddie was not expecting you to say that. Especially when he blushes profusely and his grip tightens hard on the cushion in his lap. True to his word, his gaze is directed firmly on the ceiling.

“That's really-” His voice is broken; squeaky and boyish. He coughs and it comes out much lower, almost comically so. “That's, er, interesting.”

You can't help it. A crazy laugh shoots out of your throat. An insane laugh. A mental institution laugh. It seems fitting for the situation. Here you are, on Eddie fucking Munson’s couch, telling him how wet you are? You've finally lost it.

He laughs with you, helping to diffuse some of the awkward energy filling the room.

“Sorry Eddie. It just feels a bit, surreal, you know?”

Eddie risks a look at you when he hands the joint back. You both stare at each other, each wishing to read the other's mind.

Remember who you're talking to. This is Eddie. You can talk to him about anything.

“Listen, Eddie, this is way out of fucking left field but I'm gonna say it. Have you like, done stuff, before?”

Taking the biggest inhale you can risk without swallowing the roach, you pass the smoke back. There's a very slight shake to Eddie's hand. For some reason it gives you a bit more confidence. His voice wobbles more dramatically than you've ever heard.

“You mean like, sexual, stuff?”

He finishes the smoke and stubs it out, glancing at you. There's a heat in his eyes that you're not used to seeing.

“Y-yeah, I mean, honest truth? I've only done over the clothes stuff. Nothing more than that. And you?”

Eddie coughs, puffing his chest out a little in full man-mode.

“I mean, yeah sure, a bit more than that, you know.”

You do know. You know by the way he worded that, he's at least not gotten past third base.

“You're a virgin too then.”

“Hey!” He huffs, turning to you, “I'm like, way less of a virgin than you are!”

You laugh loudly, knocking his arm with your fist.

“Doesn't make you less of a virgin, you idiot.”

He laughs, shaking his head.

“Suppose you're right. Some hook-ups ‘round the back of The Hideout don't count for much.”

Reaching for his hand, you brush his knuckles with tentative fingers.

“Eddie, what I'm trying to say is, well maybe- we could help each other out? I'm a bit… frustrated, and so are you. You know?”

He squirms a little, recoiling from your touch.

“What makes you think I'm frustrated?”

“Eddie, I'm not a fucking idiot. I know why you're grabbing that cushion.”

He laughs, his special fake laugh he reserves for awkward occasions. That is, until you grab the cushion from his lap and throw it across the room.

He's hard, almost painfully so. It's pressing against his zipper in such a way that you know it must be uncomfortable. You take in a harsh breath as you look at his face. So many emotions seem to be fighting for dominance. Clear arousal, some confusion, a little bit of pity, maybe? Which is the last thing you want to see.

Maybe you were wrong.

“I'm saying that we can help each other. I'm attracted to you. I'm not declaring my love for you or anything. It's not like, some crazy confession. I'm just saying we could… relieve each other.”

“Oh.” His whole demeanour has shifted at your words, “so you don't like, love me, or anything?”

“Eddie, you are so fucking stupid. Of course I love you, you're my best friend. Just not like that. I mean, I kinda want you to… touch me places, don't mean I want your hand in marriage!”

His chuckle rings against the tinny walls of the trailer. Then, he looks at you, really looks at you. Biting his lip, he walks his hands toward you, stopping just shy of your constricted knees.

“Glad you said that. I didn't know how to say that I kinda… well, that I like you, that way, but not like… man, you said it better.”

And just like that, your Eddie was back. It wasn't weird, far from it. After the way you'd been acting around each other for years, it just made sense.

You both smile at each other. A genuine, familiar smile. One that hurts your cheeks, that makes your chest fill with warmth.

“I know this is like, super weird, but it might help, you know?”

Eddie crawls further towards you, palms splayed on your knees. The simple touch has you quivering.

“What if it's too weird? I don't want this to ruin our friendship.”

You smile softly, and unclench your thighs slightly, knees spreading. Enough to make his eyes dart down to your core and back up, laced with want.

“Tell you what Eds. Kiss me.”

“And how is that gonna help?”

You laugh, beckoning him forwards. As if on a string, he leans toward you, his rough hands grazing the tops of your thighs. You try to disguise the gasp it elicits from you, but it doesn't seem necessary. Eddie's breathing hard, hard enough to hide any impromptu noises from you.

“Just kiss me Eddie. If it's weird and gross, we'll laugh about it. If it's, erm, better than that… well, then we can maybe take it a little further.”

Eddie leans in more, hovering over you as your head rests naturally into the armrest. But he stops, inches from your face, hesitating.

“I don't- shit, I don't know what to do!”

Laughing loud, you reach out and twirl a section of his hair in your soft hands, adding definition to a curl.

“Just, use a move on me. You know? Like I'm one of those girls at The Hideout. Come on.”

He laughs, knuckles dragging over your cheek.

“That's… this isn't the same. You're not like that ”

“Fine, just- come on to me. Hit me with your best shot. Just, I dunno, just-”

The rest of your sentence dies on your tongue as he cradles your jaw and presses his full lips softly to yours. You don't know what you were expecting, but it certainly wasn't this. He holds your face almost delicately, tongue lapping gently at your lip until you allow him to slip it inside.

It's a slow, deliberate thing, as if he's mapping out your mouth in case you never agree to do this again. Not that that's a danger to you. His tongue is burning hot; a slippery warm need, igniting the fire that was already smouldering within you.

His form relaxes slightly, allowing his weight to drop. His chest falls onto yours, no doubt telling him of the heaving gasps you're taking. You couldn't find it in you to mind, not whilst he's prising your legs open with one knee, his thigh pressing against just where you need it most.

A moan races out of your mouth and into his, muffled into his chasing tongue. The warmth between your legs is just getting worse, stoked by the pressure of his searching knee. Suddenly there's tension exactly where you need it, the coarse denim of his thigh rubbing hard against your throbbing nub.

“Eddie, fuck!”

He smiles into your mouth as he pushes his leg harder, groans overtaking his mouth as you use it to chase your pleasure.

His perfect mouth traces down your jaw, nipping and sucking at your flesh. His thick tongue lathing over your taut muscles, your tiny fingers grasping onto his arms almost pathetically.

When he breaks away to look at you, eyes searching for doubts, you can't help but think how beautiful he looks. His hair's a little messier than usual, cheeks flushed pink, and those full lips look even plumper than before.

“Sorry, should have checked in. Was that, alright? Not too weird?”

You try to slow your breathing, but it's no use. It usually takes you a while to get there on your own, but you were so close to coming on Eddie's leg after a couple of minutes of making out it was almost shameful.

“I'll say, jeez. I nearly- er, got carried away.”

“Really?” Eddie's eyes seem to brighten as the corners of his mouth twitch up into a cheeky grin.

“Don't let that get to your head! I'm just really… needy right now.”

“Fuck,” he replies, adjusting his bulge, “right, carried away, you say?”

Before you can process what he's said he leaps up, grabs you by the waist and throws you over his shoulder. Your giggling squeals echo through the trailer, ringing out like the peals of a bell as he barges into his room and throws you on the bed. Laughing and red faced, with your skirt rucked up around your hips and your arms flung above your head, you notice Eddie's gaze shamelessly skimming to your panties.

Shaking out of his bare faced revelry he jumps onto the bed next to you, eager as a kid at Christmas. He's on his side, a large hand roaming over your stomach, across your waist, down to your hips and skimming just under your thin sweater.

“You want me to take this off?” You ask, tugging at the hem.

“Oh, er- yeah, I-I mean if you- do you want to take it off?”

Eddie bumbles through his words as you giggle at him, his usual confident demeanour evaporated at the thought of your body.

“Eddie you dingus, you've literally seen me in my underwear before!”

“Well, yeah… but that was before you, er, filled out.”

It was a long time ago. A hot Summer spent running around the trailer park hitting each other with water balloons. You'd almost forgotten how far back it was.

“You don't have to be scared of my boobs ya know.”

Eddie scoffs, hitting you playfully with a flick of his finger on the tip of your nose. You grab it, trying to bite it but he's pulling it away and you follow. It turns into yet another wrestling match as laughter rings from the pair of you. He tries to hold his hand up high but then you straddle him.

Suddenly, his arm goes limp and you pull the offending digit into your mouth triumphantly, nibbling softly. It's then you realise you're straddling his stomach and he's completely lost, staring at the way your skirt is wrinkled.

Play fight discarded, you shimmy down his body and revel in the little shaking breath Eddie makes as you sit gently on his crotch, the hardened bulge pressing into your clothed heat.

“Fuck, you're so warm.”

You blush as his fingers dig into your hips as if afraid you'll disappear.

“You can feel that, through your jeans?”

He chuckles low in his throat and the sound travels straight to your tummy, letting loose a cascade of butterflies.

“Feel it? It's like a freaking furnace. Bet it'll feel amazing inside you.”

It's just Eddie, running his mouth; in fact it seems he didn't mean to say that out loud judging by the look on his face. He always has an issue separating outside thoughts and inside thoughts. It was so casually spoken though, you don't think he realised just how dirty it sounded.

Your fingers smooth up his stomach, feeling the muscles tense under the contact, pulling his shirt up with them.

“Really hot when you say stuff like that.”

You're embarrassed admitting it, but you're so turned on that he needs to know how much his words affect you. Mostly so he'll keep using them.

“Yeah?”

“Hmm.”

You're dragging nails over his abdomen, tugging his t-shirt higher and higher. He doesn't seem to mind, firm hands pulling your hips slowly back and forth. So you take a shot, and yank it up high. He gets the message, lifting his arms over his head so you can fling it off and away.

There's no subtlety to the way he pulls at your top, sitting up to wrench it off you. He's panting, eyes raking over your red cotton bra as if you were in the finest lingerie. Then your lips crash together, desperately exploring each other's mouths, teeth clashing in urgency. You collapse on top of him as he holds your hip with one hand, guiding you over his hardness as the other palms your breast over your bra.

That feeling is back, the burning tingling mass of arousal clutching your insides, growing and growing quicker than ever. You rut against him, each pass sending a zip of sensation all the way from your clit to the tips of your toes.

Moaning in his mouth, you break away and he nips at your neck, rough fingers snaking into your bra to clumsily rub your nipple. You cling to his waist tightly as the feeling mounts, and mounts, and finally-

“Eddie! Oh- oh fuckin’ hell!”

It happens. The thing that had never happened to you outside of your own late night desperate fumblings. It flows like liquid fire through your veins, buzzing across your skin in a wild burning sensation that takes you utterly by surprise. Your sounds are feral; incoherent and needy, as your thighs grasp him firmly as if in fear of him moving away.

After a loaded silence, whilst you both breathe, and breathe, you finally unclasp your legs around him, falling to the side in an ungainly heap of arms and legs.

“Well. Holy fucking shit.” you laugh nervously, legs shaking with the after effects.

“So, not too weird?” He smiles, taking the opportunity to get on top of you, arms either side of your head.

“It's a little weird. Only ever, you know, came, on my own, so yeah.”

“Yeah?” The cocky look is back, a hand trailing down your shoulder to rest on your breast.

“Can I take this off, please?”

You smile and lift your back up so he can slide his hand behind you, fumbling around to try and get the clasp, swearing under his breath.

“I don't know, can you?” You question, stifling giggles.

“You could just help me, you know, you-you devil woman- Oh wait I did it!”

The clasp springs free and Eddie's proud smile nearly splits his face apart as he eagerly pulls down the straps.

“You're such a goofball.”

“You've got amazing tits, Jesus Christ.”

Heat flushes your chest and before you can retort he's kneeling between your legs, hot mouth sucking roughly on a nipple. Words fail you, your body the only thing talking as you arch your back and push toward his greedy lips. Letting go with a loud pop, he sucks a hickey right in the middle of your sternum, running his thumb over the wet mark after.

“I wanna go down on you.” He blurts it out, spill words tugging out of his lips before he can stop them.

“You wanna what?” You respond, dazed as he looks up at you, eyes full of fire.

“I wanna use my mouth on you. Down here.”

He drags his fingers low, pressing one just to the top of your mound.

“You really want to?” As far as you're aware, that's not a thing guys tend to want to do. At least that's what you've heard. Eddie seems to be an exception.

“More than anything.” He's brutally honest, eyes wide and begging.

“I mean, if you want to, sure.”

“OK, shit, just wait a sec.”

Getting up so fast it must make his head spin, he unbuttons his jeans and wrestles them down his legs, tossing them away. The tent in his boxers makes your eyes widen.

Breathing a sigh of relief, he climbs back on the bed.

“Sorry, just so fuckin’ hard it hurts.”

Nothing can stop the whimper that shoots out of your mouth at his words. Again, he's just being honest, but he doesn't seem to understand how sexy it is.

Moving to unzip your skirt, he bats your hand away to do it himself. Before he pulls it off, he looks at you nervously.

“Just, let me know if you don't like something. Or if you do. I've er, I've not done this before so lower your expectations.” He laughs it out, embarrassment coating each word.

“I thought you had a bunch of hook ups at The Hideout?” You tease, smirking at him.

“Right, full disclosure, I've erm, used my fingers before, a few times. And once- once some girl tried to give me head and I busted in like three seconds, OK?”

He grabs a bunch of his hair and hides behind it while you chuckle.

“Eddie, it's fine, I'm glad you told me. It's just me. I'm not gonna judge you, you know that.”

“Yeah, of course.” The breath he lets out is loud, tension melting from his body, and he bends to pull your skirt down and off. Your panties are next; they cling to your core so much it makes you cringe, but he doesn't seem to mind.

“Can you, spread your legs a little sweetheart?” His voice is husky, eyes staring straight at your pussy. Feeling exposed, you do as he asks, fighting the urge to pull away from his gaze.

“Look at you. Beautiful.”

Smiling at his words, it turns into an open mouthed gasp as he strokes his fingers softly through your folds.

“Fuck me, you're soaked.”

Then his tongue is slipping across you, feeling tentatively as he keeps your legs wide with his rough palms. It's different; wet and messy, but it's incredible. The pleasure increases tenfold as his wandering mouth finds your clit.

“Eddie, right there, right there!”

He groans, pushing his face into you so hard you can feel the vibrations from the noise. He's moving his tongue up and around it, making an absolute mess of spit and slick over you. Suddenly he tries sucking and your back leaves the bed, hands coming to clutch at his hair.

“Oh my God, do that again, please please, oh fuck!”

He does it again, and again, smoothing each suckle with a flat lick from his tongue. Fingers graze your hole suddenly, making you jump. As you look down you see Eddie's entirely consumed by what he's doing, rutting himself into the mattress like an animal. One finger breaches you, feeling around, pumping slowly in and out. It's good, but it's not great.

You feel ashamed even trying to guide him but you attempt to shake it off.

“Eddie?”

“Hmm?” He looks up, an almost dazed expression in his eyes.

“Can you- can you curl your finger upward?”

“Like this?”

Your reaction is instantaneous, hips rucking up to his touch.

“Fuuuck.”

“Yeah? That good, sweetheart?”

That smugness is back but it isn't in you to care. There's no words, just little whimpers and moans as you grab him by the hair and push his mouth back where you need it.

When he adds another finger, you're gone. Your walls are clenching around him, sucking him in as the feeling of his thick digits stretching you fills your entire being. Dots dance in your vision as your whole body feels fuzzy, tingles whispering over your skin. You cry out as the feeling escalates, bubbling through you until you can't see, can't think, clawing at Eddie's head until you reach an impossible precipice. Then, it explodes, showering you in waves, over and over.

“Oh my God that was amazing, fuck Eddie, you're incredible, I never came that hard in all my life, Jesus Christ!”

You're babbling, you know, bubbles of platitudes popping out of your mouth in almost nonsensical sounds as your legs twitch like crazy.

Eddie scoots up a little, face pressed into the plush of your stomach. He mumbles something incomprehensible. Leaning up on your elbows, you pull his hair a little making him look at you.

“You alright there? What'd you say?”

Eddie laughs, kissing your tummy, face flushed pink.

“I said I fuckin’ came in my pants.”

Then he hides again, as if your skin can cover his embarrassment.

“Eddie, come here you dope.”

He climbs up you, leaning on quivering arms. The front of his boxers pushes on your sticky core.

“Don't worry about it, that's kinda hot.”

“Yeah? You're hot. That was, wow. I think I found my favourite place.”

You giggle, pressing kisses to his lips. There's still traces of you on him but you don't care.

“Can you tell me what you said again?” He asks, grin fighting to envelop his whole face.

“Huh?”

“You know, how I'm the most incredible lover in existence.” Waggling his eyebrows at you, he strokes a wayward hair off of your sweaty forehead.

“I did not say that!”

“I'm paraphrasing, it was pretty close.”

You hit him on the chest playfully and he falls to the side in a terrible act of mock pain. Crawling on top of him, you continue to smack him, fake punches thrown at his ribs.

“OK, you win, I cannot best you!”

Grabbing your hand, he kisses your knuckles and you melt against him, pressing soft kisses to his mouth. They turn harder, tongues massaging each other as he runs his hands down your back.

You break away to plant a single kiss to the tip of his nose.

“Maybe in a bit, you know, when you've… recovered…”

Dragging your nails down his lean chest you look up at him, biting your lip.

“We can… go all the way?”

Eddie's face lights up. He grabs you and flings you down so he's on top, kissing your neck and jaw sloppily as you squeal at the sudden onslaught.

“Yes, fuck yes, gimme like two minutes, five tops.”

Taglist (if you want to be added please send me a PM so I don't lose the request, thank you)

@liminalpebble @eddies-puppet @rip-quizilla @micheledawn1975 @vanilla-demon @millercontracting @roanniom @josephquinnsfreckles @leelei1980 @mrsjellymunson @usedtobecooler @eddiesprincess86 @ali-r3n

#ms gexy writes #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie x you #eddie x reader #virgin!eddie #virgin eddie x virgin reader #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things smut #stranger things fan fiction

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atlabeth · 2 months

Text

geyser

series masterlist

pairing: luke castellan x daughter of poseidon!reader

summary: percy learns about the first girl luke castellan ever loved.

a/n: this is a lil sad. sorry about that. but i really like it and it came out of nowhere in like 2 days so i hope you enjoy despite the sadness. title from the mitski song

wc: 6.5k

warning(s): major character death; not shown but hangs over the whole fic. angst made angstier by fluffy flashbacks. mostly told through percy’s pov but includes luke, annabeth, and reader povs

also if you saw this before on another account DONT WORRY... that account was also me. im just doing some stuff behind the scenes right now as i figure stuff out lol i promise no plagiarism is going on

Percy thought that his head might explode.

He didn’t know how he was still walking, honestly. His mom died, he killed a— no, the— Minotaur, all the Greek myths were real and his dad was one of them, and now he had to deal with that freak accident with Clarisse and the toilets.

At least he would be ready next time she tried to beat him up. Percy had been the new kid enough to know there would be a next time.

All he could do was stare at the Minotaur horn in his hands, the only sign that what happened outside the border was real. The horn in his hands and the hole in his heart.

Percy swallowed the lump in his throat. He’d been thrown into the deep end, and the only thing on his mind was when he would start to drown.

“Hey.” Percy looked up to see the counselor he’d met earlier with Annabeth—Luke. He tossed a ziploc bag at him and he caught it, taking a moment to look at what was in it.

“I stole you some toiletries from the camp store,” he explained. “Thought it might make you feel more at home.”

“…Thanks.” He didn’t know if Luke was joking, but the damage had already been done. And it was the nicest thing someone had done for him so far. He set it down next to his Minotaur shoebox. “Is this the best that it gets?”

Luke’s lips quirked up in a slight smile. “For now. We’re a little crowded, if you couldn’t tell.”

“Just a little bit.” Percy stood up from his sleeping bag and worked out the knot in his shoulder. “Where’s your bed? Assuming you have one.”

“I couldn’t wrangle all these cats without some back support,” he said, and he pointed to a bed in the corner. It was the only one on its own without a bunk, and he had a fair amount of decorations. Counselor privileges, he figured. Percy walked over, Luke trailing behind him.

“Nice place,” he said. Percy picked up the Yankee’s cap on his bedside table and nodded as he looked back at him. “Nice taste.”

“It’s for Annabeth,” Luke said. “She wanted us to match.”

Percy nodded again in approval. “Good taste for both of you.”

Luke had various other things around — an alarm clock knocked over next to the baseball cap, a huskie sticker on the wall half-scraped off, a poster for an album he didn’t recognize.

But the thing that caught his eye was a polaroid hanging on the wall, surrounded by a smattering of others varying in size.

The first one had to be an old picture—Luke didn’t have his scar, and the biggest smile stretched across his face. He had a girl close with an arm slung around her waist, and she might’ve been smiling even more than Luke. A bright energy emanated around her, something that must have transferred through the picture, because Percy found himself feeling a little better just looking at her. He wondered if she was a camper.

His eyes flicked to the next picture, which was another one of Luke and that girl. They were both laughing as she tried to put a blue hat on Luke’s head, and he protested with a hand on her wrist. They were in the forefront of a baseball game, Percy noticed.

There were other pictures, too—Luke, a girl dressed all punk, and what looked like a young version of Annabeth, most notably—but a majority of them were either Luke and that girl, or the girl all on her own. In every single one, she beamed brighter than the sun.

Percy pointed at the picture of Luke and the girl at the baseball game, his curiosity getting the better of him. “Who’s that?”

That seemed to catch Luke off-guard, his lips parting for a moment as if he wanted to say something. It barely took him any time to get back on track, but Percy found himself frowning.

“That’s…” Luke cleared his throat, wet his lips, shook his head. “A friend. A very good friend.”

“Does she go here?” Percy asked.

“She did.”

He frowned. “Where is she, then?”

“Percy—” Luke’s voice was strained, but he didn’t really notice as he went on.

“I didn’t see her around,” he continued, “and you look pretty close.”

Luke blinked a couple times, and Percy swore he could see the telltale glimmer of tears starting in his eyes. A muscle worked in his jaw, and suddenly Percy was worried that he’d said something horribly wrong. He had a talent for that, it seemed.

Fortunately, he was saved by the bell—conch shell?—and something like relief flooded through Luke’s expression. Tension still coiled in his body.

“Come on,” he said, that camp counselor smile coming back as he put his hand on Percy’s shoulder and guided him away from the enclave. “That means dinner’s about to start.”

Percy’s frown deepened as curiosity won out again. “Was she your—”

“You don’t wanna be late,” Luke continued, ignoring his attempt. “I assume you’re pretty hungry after two days spent out?”

Well, that only made him want to push harder. But Percy figured he wouldn’t get anything out of him—especially not now.

“…Yeah,” Percy said. “Starving.”

An odd look flickered across his face, but again, it only lasted for a second before he was back to normal. He cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled, “Eleven! Fall in!”

Percy was at the back of the line by virtue of him being the new kid, and he found himself looking back at that picture of Luke and the girl. He didn’t know why, but something drew him to her. Before Percy could think about it more, the line was moving and his growling stomach drew his attention away.

He would have plenty of time to ask Luke about it later.

Or rather, ask him and piss off the only person who’d tried to be his friend so far.

…Gods.

Maybe he was going to drown sooner than he thought.

“Luke—”

“No!”

“Luke, please!”

“Annabeth will kill me if she knows—”

“She won’t know!”

“Alright, alright— stay still, you two!”

Your mother laughed from behind the camera as you and Luke fought with each other, you trying your damnedest to get your Red Sox cap on his head as he tried his damnedest to stop you. The frantic laughter on both sides made it a little difficult for either of you to succeed in your quest, but eventually, you got the rock up the hill and the hat on his head.

“Take the picture, Mom!” you exclaimed, pulling Luke even closer by his arms so he couldn’t get it off. “I need the proof!”

“I knew this was a bad idea,” Luke groaned, staring at the camera as you wrapped your arm around his side and leaned into him. He could already imagine your victorious smile, brighter than the sun beating down on them in the stadium, and just the thought of it made one of his own flit across his lips.

“Oh, shut up, Castellan,” you said. “You chose to come to this game. Everyone’s gonna know you’re a Red Sox fan now.”

“You said you wouldn’t tell her!” Luke defended, wrenching his arms free of your control to take the hat off his head. “I don’t even care about baseball!”

“You care so much about it,” you said cloyingly, “and you’re ride or die for the Boston Red Sox.”

“If you say a single word—”

“Okay, kids!” Your mother pointed at the seats next to her. “The game’s about to start—you can keep arguing, but only if you sit down so I can see.”

“Sorry, Mom.” You grinned at her as you pulled Luke over to your seats—they were a step up from nosebleeds, but they were the ones closest to the balcony so you could at least peer over the railing down to the diamond.

“It’s alright, sweetheart.” She glanced at Luke with a smile, and he could really see where you got it from. “We’ve gotta make him a fan somehow.”

“I guess I can live with the brand.” Luke set the cap back on your head once you were seated, purposefully pulling the brim a little over your eyes, and he smiled at you. “Even though it looks better on you, anyways.”

“You just don’t have what it takes to be a Red Sox fan in the heart of Yank territory,” you mused, pushing the hat back up so you could see. “It’s fine.”

Luke rolled his eyes, but he could hardly bite back his smile.

“I am glad you came, though,” you said, glancing back at him. “I’m glad you came with me in the first place. This is gonna be the best semester.”

“Thanks for having me,” Luke said. “It’s… it’s been a while since I’ve left camp.”

“Fingers crossed for no monster attacks, eh?” You held up your hand. “At least, not during the game. I could live with it happening any other time.”

“Don’t speak it into existence,” your mom said. “We’re going to have a monster-free school year.”

To humor her, you made a claw over your heart and pushed out. She hummed in satisfaction, and you looked over at Luke. “It’s gonna be fine.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Because two kids like us aren’t gonna draw any attention.”

“Oh, I know we will,” you said. “But I know it’ll be fine.”

Luke frowned. “How can you be so sure?”

You shrugged with a smile. “I’ve got you.”

And in that moment, he was thankful for the freakish heat that honestly made no sense in the spring—at least it covered up any sign of what your words did to him.

Luke thought you were joking when you asked him if he wanted to come back home with you for the school year. He didn’t know why you wanted to go back in the first place, being a Big Three kid that apparently had a death wish, but the thought of him leaving camp was almost inconceivable.

Even after you assured him you weren’t joking, he still wasn’t sure. He was on the run with you for three years, then…

Well, he couldn’t think about it for too long. But Luke had been on the outskirts of regular society for so long, doing nothing but fighting for his life, that he didn’t know if he could actually function at a normal school.

But it felt right for you two to get some normal time together after you were separated for so long. It took him a semester to decide, but one day during your usual Iris message conversations, he told you he’d love to spend the rest of the year in Boston with you. Luke still remembered the grin you wore, your disbelieving but victorious cheers, the apology you yelled back at your mother for your noise.

Luke watched you as you talked with your mom, discussing Boston’s chances and player statistics and baseball jargon he didn’t think he’d ever understand, and he knew he would sit through a thousand Red Sox games if it meant he would get to keep seeing your smile.

You must have felt his eyes on you, because you glanced over at him. “Are you okay?”

Luke smiled. Gods, he was so glad you were here.

“Never better.”

“That one nearly got me,” Luke said.

Percy huffed as he picked up his sword from the ground—he was pretty sure he would officially lose his mind if Luke disarmed him with that stupid move one more time. One benefit to the Hermes cabin being too scared to associate with him after getting claimed was that he wasn’t making a fool out of himself in front of other people.

“Maybe I can only beat you when I pour water on myself,” he said.

Luke chuckled as he took a bottle from the cooler on the side and held it up. “Wanna try?”

He shook his head. “I think my arms will fall off if I keep going with you.”

He tipped his shoulder. “Fair.”

Percy stared at the ground as Luke gathered himself, trying to put the free range thoughts roaming around his head in order. It didn’t help that he’d gained a million questions after Poseidon claimed him, and it didn’t help that there’s been a newest addition to his dream last night.

He still felt strange asking Luke about it, but he had to know more about her. Percy didn’t know why it felt like his mission to find out who this mysterious girl was, or why he felt that strange connection to her. Maybe it was the way Luke acted whenever he brought her up, maybe it was that she’d popped up in his dream next to him at the very end, maybe it was just plain old curiosity.

“I’m not supposed to be alive,” Percy said, breaking the silence. “I could die at any time in a bunch of different horrible ways. So will you tell me more about that girl on your wall?”

Again, Luke seemed to be caught off guard by it. Percy heard the crunch of plastic as his hand clenched ever so slightly around the bottle, and he tried to cover it up with an arched eyebrow. “Why do you want to know so badly?”

He shrugged. What was he supposed to say?

“I’m curious,” he decided.

Luke huffed a dry laugh before he took a sip of water, and he stared off into the distance for a while. He did a lot of staring whenever this girl was brought up. They looked like they were best friends in those pictures, but maybe whatever they had ended badly. And if she was a demigod too…

Well, it would make sense why he didn’t want to talk about her.

“You know that phrase about curiosity?” Luke asked.

“And how it killed the cat?”

He nodded, drinking some more. “It goes double for demigods.”

“Everything else wants to kill me,” Percy said. “So curiosity’s gonna have to get in line.”

Luke’s laugh was a little more genuine this time, and he shook his head. “I guess I can tell you a little about her. You actually probably have a right to know.”

“Is she a half-blood?” Percy asked immediately.

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“Who’s her parent?”

Luke capped his water bottle and looked at Percy for a good, long moment. His face glowed in the warm afternoon sun, his scar cast in a softer light than usual. The scar used to unnerve him, but he’d gotten used to it after weeks staring at it during sword fighting.

“She was a child of Poseidon, Percy,” he said. “Just like you.”

Percy felt short of breath, like Luke had just knocked his sword out of his hand and shoved him to the ground. But he stood on his own two legs that somehow still worked, and Luke hadn’t moved.

He had a sister?

“I have a sister?”

“…Had,” Luke corrected. “She… she died a few years back.”

A vice latched onto Percy’s heart. He was still having a hard time breathing. No wonder Luke always used past tense when he was talking about her.

He had a sister, he wasn’t alone, but he was because she was dead. And if Luke was one of her friends, that meant she died young.

Gods.

“What about their oath?” Percy asked, trying to ignore the aching in his chest. “I’m already on thin ice for my whole existing thing. How did Poseidon get away with two kids so close to each other?”

Luke shrugged. “I’ve never known why gods do things. Her mother was a great woman, though—I could see what drew Poseidon to her against the oath.”

One half of Percy wanted to ask every question that kept popping into his head. The other side of him wanted to break down and cry.

“How did you meet her?”

“We ran into each other when we were both young,” he said. “Both child runaways, both demigods, both New Englanders—we decided to rough it out on the road together. Couldn’t be any worse than doing it on our own.”

Percy tried to imagine it. A young Luke and a younger version of that girl—maybe Percy’s age—living together in the wilderness and fighting monsters. Surviving off of nothing but their wit and skill, facing death each day before they’d even reached middle school.

“It… it didn’t happen then, did it?” he asked hesitantly.

Luke shook his head. “Couple years later. All we did was watch each other’s backs out there.”

Percy couldn’t help himself. “What happened to her?”

“The same thing that happens to everyone,” Luke said flatly. “There’s a reason I’m the oldest one here.”

“That doesn’t make it better,” Percy insisted. “It— it makes it worse, Luke. You see that, right?”

Luke stared at his empty water bottle then tossed it back into the cooler. When his gaze met Percy’s, he was shocked by how… tired he looked. Beyond exhausted—bone-weary. Percy wanted to say more, but he didn’t get the chance.

“This isn’t good conversation,” Luke said, “and it’s getting late. You should hit the showers before dinner.”

The sun still beat down on them, bright and angry in the sky, but Percy provided no argument. He had a lot to think about.

Before they went their separate ways, Percy stopped and looked back at him. “I’m sorry she’s gone, Luke.”

Luke’s gaze went unfocused for a moment, his eyes growing glossy. “So am I.”

Percy sat on the floor of the Hermes cabin in the corner that used to be his, staring at his meager belongings. He had to decide what to take on his quest, which was made easier by the fact that he hardly had anything to his name. Things could always be worse, though. At least he would have a change of clothes.

He should’ve been doing this in his own cabin, but it felt too empty, too suffocating in its silence. Eleven was still more familiar. He heard the door open and saw Luke walk in, and his eyes lit up when he saw Percy.

“Hey,” he said. “I wanted to see you before you left. How’re you feeling pre-quest?”

“Like the world’s about to end,” he said.

Luke’s lips twitched into a smile as he sat on the bed across from Percy. “Understandable. It kinda is.”

“It’s just overwhelming.” Percy shoved the unfolded clothes into his backpack. “I have to clear mine and my dad’s names and get Zeus’s bolt back, or else war will start. No pressure at all.”

“You were chosen for a reason,” Luke said. “You may not see it, Percy, but you’ve improved a lot since you got here. If anyone can do this, I think it’s you.”

Percy looked up at him, and he was reminded of the way their last conversation went. He was asking before he could really stop himself.

“I could die on this quest and never see you again,” Percy said. “So could you tell me more about my sister before I go?”

Luke smiled wistfully and sighed. “You really won’t let this go, will you?”

“It’s not really something you just let go,” he said. “Besides, I… I saw her in my dream last night.”

Luke’s smile faded. “You did?”

Percy nodded. “For a split second, but I know it was her. I felt the same way I did whenever I looked at her pictures. And… it’s the second time she’s shown up.”

He let out a long sigh and shook his head, his gaze trailing off to the wall. He always looked so much older when he talked about this girl, like he was a war veteran reminiscing on his lost love. And from what he’d gathered, it might not have been too far off.

“I told you we ran together when we were young,” he said, and Percy nodded. “We were both nine, and it should’ve been terrible, but she had a way of making everything better. Always found the bright side of things, was always able to make me laugh.”

“She was from Massachusetts—right in the middle of Boston.” Luke chuckled as he looked at Percy. “Huge Red Sox fan.”

Percy grimaced. “We all make mistakes.”

Luke smiled, though it faded a bit. “We got separated for a while, but we found each other again when I got to camp. Things were more peaceful than they are now, so she’d been claimed at camp pretty quickly. I figure Poseidon wanted her to have the protection of him openly standing behind her after what happened.”

He frowned. “What do you mean, ‘what happened’?”

Luke shook his head. “That would be an awful story to send you off on.”

Percy wanted to protest, but he didn’t. Luke was probably right—Percy didn’t want to make him relive it and then have to go on a death quest right after.

“A happier part, then,” he suggested.

“She ran away from home as a kid to protect her mom, but now that she had an idea of what she was doing, she started going back to school. She invited me to stay with her during the school year one year, and I accepted. That—” Luke’s throat bobbed, and the other hand clenched into a fist— “that was when she died.”

In his stunned silence, Luke got up and went over to his alcove. He pulled the drawer open on his bedside table and pulled out a neatly folded piece of paper. It must’ve been folded and crumpled a million other times in messier ways by all the creases he could see, but when Luke opened it, he could see handwriting all over the front.

A letter.

“We Iris messaged each other constantly while she was at school,” he said, “and we wrote back and forth when we couldn’t. This was the last letter she sent me.”

Percy’s first instinct was to say he wouldn’t be able to read it, but he realized that he didn’t really care. These were words that his sister wrote—he would sit here the rest of the day forcing sentences to make sense if that was what it took.

So he took the letter when Luke offered it.

To the one and only Luke Castellan,

My mom said yes! After a very long interrogation (she now knows basically everything about you) and a million promises that you would be as careful as possible and that you were good enough at sword fighting to take down anything that could come after us, she said you can spend the year here. We spent a couple hours every day making my mom’s study into a guest room, so you have a place to stay.

I’m an idiot that didn’t bring enough drachmas so that’s why I have to send this letter—hopefully it gets to you soon enough, because we’re gonna come get you a week before my winter break is over. Mom is letting me drive down because she says I have to get my permit soon. It makes sense that my first big test is getting to you. If we don’t make it, it’s because we died in a fiery crash.

Just kidding. I’m a great driver. But tell me some of your favorite songs when you reply and I’ll burn a CD for the ride—I figured out how to use LimeWire. Oh, and throw in a couple drachmas with the envelope so I can Iris message you next time. I miss your face and your voice, and my hand is cramping up writing all of this.

But this is so exciting! I can’t wait to introduce you to all my friends at school, and show you my favorite places in the city, and make you into a Red Sox fan. And you can come to my soccer games— I’m the greatest forward there is.

Jokes aside, I’m going to make sure you have the best time. We’ll spend every second together, Luke. We’re gonna make up for the time we lost.

I can’t wait to see you again.

Your hurricane.

It took Percy a long time to get through it with the words swimming all over, and it didn’t help that his vision had grown blurry.

Tears, he realized as he blinked, and he did it again to make sure they wouldn’t fall. He couldn’t cry in front of Luke, not over a girl he didn’t even know—even if she was his sister. But maybe he was grieving that—the fact that he would never get to know her.

“God, man. I— I’m sorry.” Percy couldn’t think of anything else to say. “She sounds like she was great.”

Luke couldn’t even manage a smile this time as he stared at the wall. Percy was surprised he could even talk to him about it.

“She was,” he murmured. “You would’ve liked her. And gods,” this time, a bit of a smile broke through despite it all, “she would have loved a little brother.”

“I’m gonna make her proud on this quest,” Percy vowed. “I’m gonna clear our dad’s name for her.”

Something in Luke’s gaze had changed—sadness, almost regret. “You’re a good kid, Percy. I hope your quest doesn’t change that.”

I hope I come back alive, he wanted to say. But given the topic matter, he didn’t. Percy carefully folded the letter back up and handed it to Luke.

“Thank you for telling me about her, man,” Percy said. “I… I know it can’t be easy.”

Luke let out a shuddering breath as he stared at the closed letter—Percy wondered how many times he must have sat in this same position, reading her words. “No better way to honor her memory than helping her brother.” He glanced at Percy. “I see a lot of her in you.”

He’d been wondering if he had anything in common with her. Percy felt a sudden flare of anger shoot through him—it wasn’t fair that she was dead. Poseidon was a god, and she was a teenager. He should have saved her.

Percy’s mouth was drier than a desert. A part of him wanted to curl up in a ball and sob over the sister he never got the chance to know, but the other part of him knew—from what little Luke had told him about her—that she wouldn’t want him to.

“I should get going,” Percy said, standing up from the floor. “We have to leave for the quest soon, and Annabeth and Grover are probably wondering where I am, and…”

Percy trailed off, and Luke nodded in understanding. He turned around and took one of the photos off the wall—one of you alone in the middle of a park, wearing a bucket hat and absolutely beaming.

“You deserve to have a part of her with you,” he said. “For good luck.”

He felt himself choking up, and he pushed it down as he accepted the photo. “Thanks, man. It means a lot.”

“Good luck, Percy,” Luke said. “You’ve got a lot of people rooting for you.”

Percy found himself studying the picture of you once he made it outside, trying to memorize your face. With your wide, infectious smile that emanated pure sunlight, he could have mistaken you for an Apollo kid. But when he looked at you, he got that same warmth that he felt every time he imagined his father.

“I won’t let you down,” he murmured. “I promise.”

After sleeping in his train seat for half the day, Percy vowed to never complain about his bed in Cabin Three again. He was gonna be going down to the Underworld with permanent cricks in his neck.

Grover was still sound asleep—Percy envied him for how easily it came to him in the worst conditions—but thankfully, Annabeth wasn’t. Her gaze was focused on the view as their train chugged along.

Percy cleared his throat in a flawless attempt at getting her attention, and it worked.

“You’re awake,” she said.

“Unfortunately.” Percy sighed. “How much longer do you think it’ll be?”

“Another day, at least,” she said. “And we’ve got a layover in St. Louis.”

“St. Louis,” he hummed. “Nice.”

They sat in silence for a while—there wasn’t much to talk about when they were coming off of two— or was it three, now?—near-death experiences. But eventually, Annabeth cleared her throat, taking a page from his book, and it worked again.

“There— there’s probably something you should know,” Annabeth said, and that worked even better than clearing her throat. “You’re not the only Big Three kid to come through Camp Half-blood lately.”

“I know,” he said. “Grover and Luke explained it.”

Her eyes widened slightly and she leaned forward in her seat. “Luke did?”

“…Yeah. You all already told me about Thalia.” Percy glanced away, suddenly feeling a chill in the train car. “Luke told me about my sister.”

Annabeth went silent.

“It’s okay,” he said. “I kind of annoyed Luke until he told me. Doesn’t really seem like a subject people at camp like to talk about.”

“I’m just surprised he did,” she murmured. “They were… they were close, Percy. Her death destroyed him—Thalia and your sister. All of it’s complicated.”

“Yeah,” he sighed, “I got some of that.”

“I only knew her for a year at camp, but everyone loved her,” she said. “She was nice. Popular. Always helped when she could, always had the biggest, most infectious smile on her face.” Annabeth looked down at her hands. “She didn’t deserve the fate she got.”

Percy didn’t think he’d ever grieved so much for someone he never knew. “But her and Luke—were they…?”

“Yeah,” Annabeth said, “they were a thing, later on.”

That seemed to be all she wanted to say on the matter. Percy decided not to push.

“How did you meet her?” he asked.

Annabeth’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I met her on the day I thought I would die.”

For the first time in her life, Annabeth Chase couldn’t think.

It had all happened so fast. One second she was running with Luke and Thalia and Grover, praying to her mother and any other gods that would listen to make the horde of monsters let up even a centimeter.

The next, she’d collapsed on the ground, never so grateful to have grass and dirt and dust in her face. But she could hear Luke yelling, barely able to make it out in her delirious state—she didn’t know when she’d last had a sip of water, and they’d been running for at least three miles—but he sounded hysterical.

She remembered her last clear thought: they weren’t going to make it.

But they had. They had, so why was Luke losing his mind?

Annabeth pulled herself up from the ground—how long had she been bleeding out of those slashes on her arm?—and looked for the rest of her friends. Luke wasn’t yelling anymore, instead arguing with someone she didn’t recognize in a bright orange shirt. Grover’s furry legs trembled as he stared down the hill they’d just gotten up, completely silent, and Thalia—

Where was Thalia?

Annabeth tried to get up but her legs gave out almost immediately, and steady arms caught her before she could fall to the ground again. Kind eyes served to ease some of her panic—she was older than Annabeth, maybe around Luke or Thalia’s age.

Thalia—

“Hey, you’re okay,” the voice said, and Annabeth’s attention was drawn back to you. “I’ve got you.”

“Where’s Thalia?” she blurted out, because now she couldn’t think of anything else.

Your brows creased and you glanced back down the hill—Annabeth did too, and she saw Grover and Luke arguing with each other. Or rather, Luke was yelling at him as Grover anxiously hooked his hands through his hair.

“I don’t know,” you said, “but right now, I need to make sure you’re okay. Are you hurt?”

Annabeth absentmindedly held up her arm, but she was only focused on her friends. Why wasn’t Thalia with them? Why was Luke so upset?

You cursed under your breath in Ancient Greek as you cradled her arm, and you looked back down the hill. Annabeth could see at least half a dozen other kids.

“We’ve got two half-bloods and a satyr, one injured!” you yelled back. “Get Molly and Brayden!”

“Three,” Annabeth found herself saying. “There’s three half-bloods—”

“Annabeth!”

Her head shot up at the sound of Luke calling her name as he bounded over, and her eyes widened at the blood steadily spidering across the fabric of his shirt.

“Luke, you’re hurt—”

“I’m fine,” he insisted. “It’s fine.”

“We have Apollo kids coming,” you said, looking up at him, still cradling Annabeth’s arm. “We’ll get y—”

Your sentence stuck in your throat, and Annabeth could see tears welling in your eyes as your brows furrowed. She thought Luke’s eyes might burst out of his skull as he stared at you, his lips parted but nothing coming out. Neither of you were able to form words.

When he finally did get something out, it was a single name. One Annabeth knew by heart, one that he’d mourned for years.

“Luke?” you whispered.

Before he had the chance to do anything, two teenagers got over the hill and called out your name, the same one Luke used. He always said you were dead, but you clearly weren’t dead, because you were here and you had her arm in your grasp and while your hands were cold, they weren’t cold enough to be dead—

“Molly’s gonna take care of you,” you said, looking back at Annabeth and cutting off her inner dialogue. “She’ll get you to the infirmary and heal you up, okay?”

“My friends—”

“They’re gonna be okay too,” you said. “I promise.”

Annabeth looked up at Luke, and he nodded. “We’ll be with you soon, Annabeth. We— we have to talk about some things.”

So she went with Molly down the hill, and Annabeth put pressure on her bleeding wound when she told her to—it had started to sting like hell now that her adrenaline was fading.

She looked back just in time to see you and Luke share the tightest hug ever.

The hug of two people who realized they weren’t seeing ghosts, Annabeth thought.

You bolted up in bed, eyes wide and your chest heaving as you rapidly sucked in air. Your fingers found purchase in your bedsheets, desperate for something familiar—it took a second for you to recognize your surroundings, that you weren’t in an endless void, but your childhood bedroom offered little comfort.

You ran a hand over your forehead, damp with sweat, as you tried to calm down. Your breathing slowed, but you couldn’t shake that awful feeling that hung over you in your sleep.

Your nightmares were getting worse, you knew that much. That raspy, demented voice used to be a rarity, and now it appeared every night. You could usually deal with your nightmares, but the sense of absolute dread that voice and the pit fostered in you was too much. You hadn’t managed to sleep through the night once since you came home for the school year.

You could deal with the monsters—to you, this was the worst part of your godly blood.

A knock rattled on the door out of nowhere, and you nearly jumped out of your skin. The only thing that calmed you down was the thought that monsters didn’t knock.

“Come in,” you croaked, your throat drier than a desert.

Thankfully, a monster hadn’t come to make your night even more miserable. Luke stood in the doorway, his eyebrows creased in concern, messy curls hanging just above his eyes. He wore the Red Sox t-shirt you’d bought for him at the game you dragged him to, and in your addled state, you didn’t even think to tease him about it.

“Are you okay?” He should’ve been as disoriented as you, but his alerted eyes told a different story.

You could only think of one thing. “How did you know?”

Luke’s lips parted for a moment, as if he hadn’t even considered it. “I could just feel it.”

You managed a smile despite every atom in your body screaming at you. “I think that means you can come in.”

He closed the door behind him, and you shifted over in your bed to make room for him. There wasn’t much in a twin, but you made it work. Luke’s weight pressed into the mattress, making you adjust your position, and it was more comforting than any amount of blankets.

“You’re so cold,” he murmured, laying the back of his hand against your arm. “How do you live like that?”

“Blame my dad,” you said. “I’ve got water in my blood.”

“I think that’s probably a bad thing,” Luke said, and you knocked your shoulder into his with a huff.

“You know what I mean.”

Luke let his hand fall back in his lap, and as you brought your knees up to your chest, you pulled the covers with them.

“So,” Luke said, glancing at you, “what’s got you awake at the witching hour?”

“The usual,” you mumbled.

“Nightmares that might be prophetic?” he asked.

You made a lazy gesture with your hand. “Bingo.”

“The worst sense of dread imaginable?”

“Bullseye.”

“I’m sorry,” he said.

You shrugged. “It’s nothing I can’t deal with.”

“You don’t always have to put on a front, y’know,” Luke said. You felt his eyes on you. “You don’t always have to be strong.”

“I’m naturally strong,” you said with mock austerity. “Comes with the god for a dad.”

Luke chuckled and shook his head. “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah,” you murmured.

You leaned into his side, fitting your head into the crook of his neck. Luke wrapped his arm around you, pulling you closer, and you let out a contented sigh.

That voice in your nightmares seemed so small when you had Luke.

“Can you stay?” you asked softly.

He didn’t hesitate. “Of course.”

“Just like old times,” you whispered.

“Just like old times,” he agreed.

Luke ran hot, and you’d never been more thankful for it as you fully settled into his side. Icy blood ran through your veins, and you let out a shaky sigh. You could hear his steady breathing, feel his heartbeat through his chest, and the anxiety from earlier began to steadily fade. You never felt safer than when you were with Luke.

There was something between you—you weren’t that stupid—but you hadn’t talked about it. With you and Luke, it was just… you and Luke. You didn’t have to put a label to it.

How could you put a label to your relationship, when you’d spent your first few years together fighting for each day, and then the next few thinking the other was dead?

Maybe someday, you would talk about it. But for now, this was more than enough.

“Don’t worry,” Luke murmured in your ear as your eyes began to droop. “I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.”

And by the gods, you believed him.

#reader is the mara of she ra the mikey berzatto of the bear the nellie crain of hill house DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan fic #luke castellan angst #percy jackson and the olympians x reader #pjo x reader #x reader #daughter of poseidon #child of poseidon #sadie writes

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laenordeservedbetter · 4 months

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Why?

Pairing: Clarisse La Rue x Fem!Reader (Daughter of Athena)

Synopsis: Percy sees something he never expected to see.

Warnings: Fluff, kissing, confused Percy, Clarisse slander (Percy), fear of spiders. lmk if I missed any.

This one-shot is based on this tweet.

A/N: Hello, lovely people. I'm back. I can't believe it's been almost a year since I last wrote on here. My writing skills got rusty, but I hope you enjoy reading anyway.

not my gif. || masterlist

Percy was walking with Luke as the latter continued showing him the camp facilities that they didn’t get to go over in the original tour when he sees a strange sight that makes him stop walking. He squints his eyes, wondering if his mind was playing tricks on him. When his visions do not change, his eyebrows raise, almost going to the top of his head by how surprised he was.

Luke stops talking when he notices that Percy’s attention was elsewhere. He tries to follow Percy’s line of sight and chuckles when he does. “Oh, yeah. That.” Luke smiles, amused. “That happens pretty much every once in a while.”

“Should we help her?” Percy asks, mortified, as he refers to you. He felt uneasy, seeing you with Clarisse. She is the camp bully, isn’t she? People shouldn’t be leaving you alone with her. Something about the predicament he saw the two of you in seemed off. It shouldn’t be happening, that’s for sure. He steps forward, wanting to free you from the torture when Luke places a hand on his shoulder, preventing him from doing so.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Luke shakes his head, making sure Percy wasn’t going to make any more steps before he retracts his hand.

“Why are Clarisse and Y/n sitting with their backs to each other?” Percy looks up at Luke, knowing the older camper wasn’t going to let him interfere. The least Luke could do was answer his questions.

“They had a fight.” Luke explains simply, still with an amused smirk.

“Then why are they holding hands?”

“They get sad when they fight.” The raven-haired boy shrugs.

Percy doesn’t say anything, keeping up with his staring. It didn’t occur to him how creepy or weird it was, seeing how baffled he still is upon seeing you and Clarisse in the same room, and holding hands. It’s giving him the heebie-jeebies. What business did Clarisse have holding hands with one of the kindest people in camp? He didn’t like that idea, but there was nothing he could do about it. His only hope was that Clarisse doesn’t infect you with her bad attitude.

Meanwhile, inside the Athena cabin, you squeezed Clarisse’s hand three times, but you didn’t say a word. You were still pretty upset from the incident earlier.

Clarisse tried to look at you from her peripheral vision and even though you couldn’t see it, you knew that her face was ridden with guilt. She sighs, “Look, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have tossed that spider to you when we were in the woods, even if I was freaked out.”

You had been walking in the woods together, hand in hand, when a spider fell on Clarisse’s shoulder. Her natural instinct was to kill it, but she didn’t have any weapons with her and she was starting to panic, so she did the first thing her brain told her to do. She flung the spider over to you despite knowing full well that you were afraid of them.

You take a deep breath, staying silent for a few seconds before saying, “I forgive you and I’m sorry for yelling and cursing you.” Your head hung low in shame. That wasn’t your proudest moment either. The things you said would have made even Chiron blush.

Clarisse gives out a huge sigh of relief, momentarily letting go of your hand so she can stand up. She walks over so she can finally be face to face with you. “It’s okay, I forgive you. You were freaking out too.” She wraps her arms around you, meeting your gaze with a smile.

“I thought my soul left my body at that point.” You pouted, bits of distress still not wearing off.

She cups your face, leaning down to plant a soft kiss on your lips. “Do you feel better now?” She asks with a soft smile.

You can’t stop the smile from spreading to your face, too. You wrap your arms around her waist and hug her from your position on the chair, holding her tighter for maximum comfort. Clarisse laughs at how you didn’t want to let go, even after two minutes have passed.

“I love you so much. You know that, right?” Clarisse states, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“I know.” You murmur happily against her, wanting nothing more than to stay in this moment forever.

Outside the cabin, about ten feet away, Percy Jackson could be seen with his jaw dropped and eyes wider than before. “They’re dating?!” He exclaims, looking at Luke in a panic. It seems that he didn’t connect the dots until you and Clarisse kissed. And even then, it seemed like it wasn’t true. He wasn’t concerned anymore, just confused.

Luke’s brows furrowed. “Couldn’t you already tell by the way they were holding hands earlier?”

Percy stares at Luke, his mouth agape, then back to you and Clarisse, then back to Luke again, feeling like he was about to combust because of this new information. “What? No. Why would I even—”

Luke pulls Percy along, cutting his rambling short. “You have much to learn, Percy. So much.” He walks ahead, heading back to the Hermes cabin. “Come on. I’ll fill you in when we get back to the cabin.”

#clarisse la rue #clarisse pjo #clarisse x reader #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse la rue x y/n #percy jackon and the olympians

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rynwritesreid · 6 months

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You’re on your own| Spencer Reid

Summary: After releasing Spencer will never love you back, you take some time of work to work on your mental health. However, an unsub the team have been working to find, finds you first.

Content: Fem!reader. Threats against life. Mention of weapons. Mention of blood. It’s full of angst (I guess some fluff but not much). This is a bit darker than anything else I’ve written before, but I really enjoyed writing this one. So, I hope you enjoy

A/N: I have written another fic like this called-shattered reflections. If you enjoy this one, you might like that one.

Masterlist| requests are open| Navigation

4.3k words

You had been in love with Spencer from the moment you had laid your eyes on him, but he most definitely didn’t feel the same way. He had been on dates or fallen in love with serval women while you had known him, and you had just come to terms that you two would never happen, so you just started looking elsewhere.

At work you barely interacted with him anymore. You two weren’t the greatest friends to start off with, but now you only talked to him when necessary. Everyone, but him, had noticed. Luke asked if you two had had an argument or something, but you just shrugged him off. Emily and JJ asked if everything was alright, which you would always say “yes, I don’t know why you don’t think everything if alright.”

You were only ignoring him to get over your crush, but you were always seemingly pushing away all of your friends in the process. Emily, JJ, Tara, Luke, and Penelope now never mentioned Spencer around you. They all knew something was going on, but didn’t want to ask, and all you really wanted to do was rant how he never seemed to realise you were right there in front of him.

After one practically gruelling case you didn’t speak a word to any of your friends/team while on the flight back, or while in the Quantico. Once you were in the safety of your apartment you burst into tears, wondering if you were ever going to be good enough for anyone. JJ text you asking if you were okay as you seemed abnormally quiet. You didn’t reply. You didn’t want to push anyone away, but this is what you did when you were down.

You ignored everyone for the days you had off, putting dnd on your phone. You barely left your apartment and would order food, so you didn’t have to grocery shopping. What you didn’t expect to happen was for Spencer to message you.

“Hey, I was wondering if I’ve done something wrong. You haven’t talked to me for a while. You haven’t really talked to anyone. But if I have done something wrong, please tell me.”

You wondered if someone had asked him to text you, but you didn’t reply. You just read of the message. He didn’t send another one. But everyone else was constantly checking in on you. You felt bad, but you just didn’t have the energy to reply to them.

Once you had returned to work, you said sorry to everyone (but Spencer) for ignoring them and just explained the case hit you hard. Spencer kept looking at you, half expecting you to apologise to him, but you simply just ignored him. He asked everyone why you were doing this, but they all told him they didn’t have a clue.

When everyone else had gone to get some lunch, Spencer came up to you.

“Hey, are you okay? You have ignored me all day, you didn’t reply to my message. You haven’t even looked in my direction. What have I done?” He seemed defeated. His voice, while it wasn’t filled with pain and sadness, wasn’t exactly a happy voice.

“Spencer, you haven’t done anything. I just want to be alone. Please, go back to your desk.” It was a short reply, you didn’t look up at him, or acknowledge his presence.

He left, and he didn’t say anything to you. He ignored you, like you ignored him. Everyone was worried, wondering what had happened. Questioning if everything was okay, but like always, you shrugged them off.

You hated how you felt, and how you were treating everyone else. Emily suggested, because of your recent behaviour, you take some time off. She wasn’t forcing you too, but both you and her knew it would be for the best. You reluctantly agreed. You did feel like a burden to everyone around you, you felt like you were pulling them down with, which you knew was unfair.

As you left the BAU, you couldn’t help but feel the weight of everything going on around you. You knew deep down that you couldn't keep going on like this. You needed to sort out your feelings and deal with your emotions before you could come back and face everyone again.

The first few days of your break were difficult. You couldn't shake off the feeling of guilt that was hanging over you like a dark cloud. You spent most of your days in bed, scrolling through social media, and thinking about all the missed opportunities you had with Spencer. You even considered reaching out to him to apologize, but you couldn't bring yourself to do it. It was like your pride was holding you back, and you didn't know how to let go of it.

You knew you needed to go outside at one point, even if it was just for a little walk. As you stepped out of your apartment building, the sun hit your face, and you closed your eyes for a moment, soaking in the warmth. You took a deep breath and started walking towards the shops. You could hear the birds chirping, and it was as if the world had come alive. You felt a sense of peace wash over you, and you realized that maybe taking a break was exactly what you needed.

After you had picked up some groceries, you walked to one of your favourite parks. You sat on a bench and decided to people watch and make up little stories about the people walking by. You watched people chase after their dogs, and friends share jokes and laughs. It felt tranquil, a moment of bliss in a world full of chaos. You hadn’t replied to anyone, but I think everyone was expecting that.

You walked back to your apartment, the peace you once felt had gone. You had a feeling of dreed, like something awful was about to happen to you. You looked around, making sure no one was following you or watching you from a far. You didn’t notice anyone, but you couldn’t put your feelings aside.

Just as you were about to reach your apartment, you heard footsteps behind you. You quickly turned around, but no one was there. You shrugged it off, thinking it was just your imagination playing tricks on you. However, a few minutes later, you heard the footsteps again. This time, they were louder and more distinct. Your heart started racing as you began to feel a sense of panic. You picked up your pace, trying to get to your apartment building as quickly as possible.

You had reached the safety of your apartment, making sure you had locked the door. You turned on the TV, just to make your apartment less quiet and so that your mind couldn’t wonder. As you sat on your couch, you couldn't shake off the feeling that someone was watching you. You tried to convince yourself that it was just your imagination, but the more you tried to ignore it, the stronger the feeling became. You stood up and walked towards the door, peering through the peephole, but you couldn't see anyone outside.

Just as you were about to turn away from the door, you saw a figure in the corner of your eye. You quickly turned back to the peephole, but the figure was gone. You backed away from the door, heart racing and palms sweating.

You decided to call Emily, hoping that she would answer and calm you down. She picked up after a few rings, and you could tell from her voice that she was worried.

“Are you okay? What’s going on?” Emily asked.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your voice. “I don’t know, Emily. I just have this feeling that someone is watching me. I went to the park near where I live, and when I started walking back home, I got this sudden feeling that someone was following me. I don’t want to seem paranoid, but I just can’t shake this feeling.”

“Okay. Do you want me to come over?”

“No, I don’t think so. I just wanted to tell someone. I kind of wanted you to tell me I sounded stupid and that of course you feel like this, you work to catch bad people all the time, these feelings are normal.”

Emily was quiet for a moment before speaking in a calm and reassuring voice. "It's okay to feel scared sometimes. It doesn't make you stupid. And you're right, we catch bad people for a living, so it's normal to feel like this. But if you want, I can come over and we can talk about it more."

You felt relieved that Emily didn’t think you were stupid, but you didn’t want to be a burden to her. “No, Em. It’s fine. I’ll text you later.”

“Okay. But if you keep feeling like this, call me again and I’ll come straight over.” Emily hung up after saying that.

You turned back on your TV and make some food. Though the feeling persisted, you didn’t call Emily again, you really didn’t want to course any problems for her or be a burden.

As the night progressed, the feeling of being watched only grew stronger. You tried to shake it off and distract yourself with TV shows and books, but nothing seemed to help. You couldn't dismiss the nagging sensation of being followed or watched.

You decided to take matters into your own hands and investigate. It was a risky move, but you couldn't just sit around waiting for something to happen. You quickly grabbed your coat and left your apartment, determined to find out who or what was causing these feelings of dread.

As you walked down the dimly lit street, you kept looking over your shoulder, trying to spot anyone suspicious. You tried to act casual, but you couldn't shake off the feeling that you were being followed. You quickened your pace, hoping to reach the end of the street before anything could happen.

Just as you turned the corner, you saw a shadowy figure standing in the middle of the road. Your heart skipped a beat, and you froze in place. The figure started moving towards you, and you could hear its heavy breathing.

You tried to run, but your legs felt like they were made of lead. The figure was getting closer and closer, and you could feel it’s hot breath on your neck. You turned around to face your attacker, but before you could even get a good look at them, they grabbed you and pulled you into an alleyway. You tried to scream, but their hand was firmly over your mouth, muffling any sound.

You struggled against your attacker, but their grip was too strong. You could feel their body pressing against yours, and you knew that you were in danger.

You closed your eyes, trying to calm yourself down and think of a way out of the situation. As you opened your eyes, you saw the glint of a knife in the attacker's hand. You knew then that you were in grave danger and started to panic.

The attacker pushed you up against the wall, the knife now pressed against your throat. You could feel the cold metal against your skin, and you shuddered in fear.

“Don't. Move.” The attacker's voice was low and menacing, and you knew that they weren't going to let you go without a fight.

You tried to reason with them, to plead for your life. “Please...let me go...I won't tell anyone...”

The attacker chuckled darkly, and you knew that your words had fallen on deaf ears. They leaned in closer, their breath hot against your face. “Oh, I know you won't tell anyone. Even if you did, they wouldn’t care. You’ve pushed them all away, and now they don’t care about you.”

Your heart sank at the attacker's words. They were right - you had been pushing people away, isolating yourself from those who cared about you. But you didn't deserve to die for it. You mustered up all of your courage and looked the attacker straight in the eye.

"Please, I don't want to die," you said, your voice trembling. "I'll do anything. Just let me go."

“Anything, huh? God, hearing, an FBI agent beg for their life isn’t something I thought I’d ever hear. But here is what is going to happen. You’re going to come with me, not making a sound, and you are going to help me out. Okay?”

The attacker loosened their grip on you, and you took the opportunity to nod your head in agreement. You didn't know what they wanted from you, but you knew that you had to do whatever it took to stay alive. You were an FBI agent; you were trained for these situations. You knew how to fight, but right now you were a victim, one who hadn’t be specially trained, one who didn’t know how to handle these types of situations and one who, apparently, had no friends left who would help them out or who cared about them.

The attacker led you deeper into the alleyway, their grip firm on your arm. You tried to think of a way out of this, but your mind was blank. You were scared, and you didn't know what was going to happen to you.

As you walked, you noticed that the walls of the alleyway were covered in graffiti. You saw a message scrawled on the wall in bright red paint and gasped. It was a message from the notorious serial killer, the one that you had been tracking for months. This couldn't be a coincidence.

You turned to the attacker, your heart racing. "Are you working for him? Are you his accomplice?"

The attacker smirked. "Why don't you come with me and find out?"

You had a feeling that this wasn't going to end well, but you knew that you had to keep your wits about you if you were going to get out of this alive.

You followed the attacker through the alleyway, your mind racing as you tried to come up with a plan. You didn't know who this person was or what they wanted, but you knew that you had to stay alert and focused if you were going to make it out of this alive.

The attacker led you to a rundown building on the outskirts of town. They pushed you inside and closed the door behind you. You found yourself in a dimly lit room, the walls covered in damp and mould.

The attacker sat down on a chair in the corner of the room, watching you with a cold and calculated gaze. You could feel their eyes on you, and you knew that you were in danger.

"What do you want from me?" you asked, your voice shaking.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to ask you to murder anyone. I want you to be a warning to the rest of your team, not to come looking for me. They’ve been working on my case while you’ve been away, and I don’t want them too anymore. So, you, are going to be warning.”

You felt a chill run down your spine at the attacker's words. They wanted to use you as a warning to your own team. It was a sick and twisted plan, and you knew that you couldn't let it happen.

"I won't be a part of this," you said firmly. "I won't let you use me as a pawn in your twisted game."

The attacker laughed, standing up from their chair and walking towards you. "Oh, but you don't have a choice, do you? You either do what I say, or you die. It's that simple."

You stood your ground, staring the attacker straight in the eye. "I'd rather die than become a part of your sick game."

The attacker shrugged. "Suit yourself." They pulled out the knife and lunged towards you. He stabbed you, just above your heart. You felt you self-losing hope, even if this one wasn’t fatal, you knew he wouldn’t stop till you were dead. You felt yourself slump to the floor, you knew it wasn’t going to be long till you lost consciousness, you had no fight left in you.

As you lay there dying, you thought about all the people you had pushed away. You regretted not reaching out to them, not telling them how much you loved them. You wished you had spent more time with them, made more memories.

But it was too late for that now. You closed your eyes, accepting your fate. You wished that you had told Spencer how you felt, and you couldn’t believe that was going to be one of your last thoughts. You heard the man walk away. You felt so weak, you had nothing last. You just gave up, knowing that no one now would really care that you had gone.

Emily had grown worried. You hadn’t texted or called her back. She thought you would have by now. She decided to go to your apartment to check on you. As she walked up to your door, she could hear your phone ringing through the door. She knocked, but there was no answer. Worried, she used her spare key to let herself in.

As she walked into your living room, she saw your phone lying on the coffee table. It was Spencer calling, and Emily knew that something was wrong. She called your name, but no reply. She searched your entire apartment looking for you, but you were nowhere. She called JJ to see if she had heard from you, but the last she heard anything from you was when you were last in the office. Everyone else had the same answer when she called them.

She asked the team to come over, to see if they could spot anything she couldn’t. Everyone was worried about you. As the team arrived, they saw Emily pacing around the living room, phone in hand. She quickly filled them in on her worries and the fact that you were missing. She explained how you had called her earlier saying that you thought someone was watching you, and that you would call her if anything happened.

Spencer was the one to look in your bedroom, as he was searching, he kept thinking how he thought this was somehow his fault. He saw the pictures you had around your room of you and your old college friends, or family pets. But there was no evidence in there of anything. JJ had suggested that you had gone somewhere, but Emily said you wouldn’t go anywhere with your phone. Rossi tried to suggest that maybe you left your phone so that they wouldn’t be able to trace you, but Emily said that was stupid considering that call she had received earlier. Luke and Tara just kept pacing around your apartment, looking for anything, but they found nothing.

As the team continued to search your apartment, the sound of Emily's phone ringing filled the silence. She answered it quickly, hoping that it would be you on the other end of the line.

"Hello?" Emily said, her voice shaking slightly.

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line, and then a voice spoke. It was distorted, and Emily couldn't make out what it was saying.

"Who is this?" Emily demanded, her heart racing.

The voice spoke again, and this time Emily could hear it more clearly. "You'll find your friend in an alleyway on the outskirts of town," the voice said. "But you better hurry. She doesn't have much time left."

Emily's heart sank as she hung up the phone. The team looked at her, fear etched on their faces.

"We have to go find her," JJ said, her voice determined.

The team rushed out of your apartment and into the streets, determined to find you before it was too late. They piled into their cars and sped towards the location that the voice had mentioned.

As they arrived at the alleyway, they saw a figure lying motionless on the ground. They rushed towards you, praying that it wasn't too late. As they got closer, they saw the blood seeping out of your body and onto the pavement. They knew that they didn't have much time.

Spencer checked for a pulse, and thankfully, there was one. They had to act quickly to save you. Rossi called for an ambulance, while JJ and Tara tried to stop the bleeding. Emily sat by your side, holding your hand tightly and praying that you would make it.

As the ambulance arrived, the team helped load you onto the gurney. Emily rode with you to the hospital, holding your hand the entire way. She couldn't bear the thought of losing you. She thought about all the times you had laughed together, shared secrets and dreams. She couldn't imagine a world without you in it.

As the doctors rushed you into surgery, the team waited anxiously in the waiting room. They didn't know if you would make it or not, but they knew they had to have faith. They sat together, silent, and scared, waiting for any news.

No one could bear the thought of losing you, you were always there for them. Not long ago you would have answered their calls and listened to them rant about everything and anything. Spencer, though, felt the worst out of all of them. He was good at his job, he had known for some time that you had feelings for him, and it wasn’t like he didn’t have any for you, but he didn’t want to lose someone else he loved. He silently cried, hoping you would make it.

As the hours ticked by, the team was filled with anxiety and worry. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the surgeon emerged from the operating room.

"Is she okay?" Emily asked, her voice trembling.

The surgeon sighed. "She's stable, but it was touch and go for a while. We managed to stop the bleeding, but the knife wound was deep. She's still in critical condition, but we're hopeful that she'll make a full recovery."

The team breathed a collective sigh of relief. They knew that you still had a long road ahead of you, but at least you were alive. They thanked the surgeon and waited patiently for you to be brought to a room.

As they sat by your bedside, they could see the machines monitoring your vitals. They could hear the steady beeping of the heart monitor, and they knew that it was a good sign. Emily held your hand tightly, tears streaming down her face.

Spencer watched from the corner of the room, his heart heavy with guilt and regret. He wished he had told you how he felt sooner before it was almost too late. He wished he had been the one to protect you from harm, instead of the one who inadvertently caused it. He knew he had a lot to make up for if you were to recover.

In the days that followed, the team took turns staying by your side, never leaving you alone for a moment. They brought you flowers, cards, and small gifts, hoping to bring some comfort during your recovery. Spencer was always there, holding your hand and whispering words of encouragement. He was determined to make things right with you, to show you how much he cared.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, you opened your eyes. You saw the team surrounding you, and Spencer's face filled with relief. You tried to speak, but your throat felt dry and sore. Emily handed you some water.

As you took a sip of water, you looked around the room and saw the worried faces of your team. You knew that something bad had happened, but you couldn't remember what it was. You tried to speak again, but your throat was still too sore.

Emily leaned in closer to you. "You were attacked," she said softly. "But you're going to be okay."

As the memories flooded back, you felt a wave of fear wash over you. You remembered the pain of being stabbed and the feeling of helplessness as you lay bleeding on the ground. But as you looked around the room, you saw the love and support of your friends, and you knew that you weren't alone.

Spencer leaned in close to you. "I'm so sorry," he whispered. "I should have protected you."

You shook your head weakly. "It wasn't your fault," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

But Spencer wouldn’t hear it. “But you took time off because of me, and don’t pretend you didn’t. If, if I had said anything to you, then you wouldn’t have done that and you wouldn’t be laying in this hospital bed.”

“Spencer, please don’t blame yourself. None of this is your fault, and you didn’t need to say anything to me. Sometimes the person you love doesn’t love you back and that’s okay. But the man who did this got into my head and told me I was on my own, and that you guys didn’t care about, and that I pushed you all away. I’m so sorry for how I treated you.”

Spencer squeezed your hand. "You have nothing to apologize for. We're just glad you're okay."

You smiled weakly at him, grateful for his kind words. You knew that it would take time to heal both physically and emotionally, but you also knew that you had the support of your friends.

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sunflower-lilac42 · 3 months

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✧ 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮 || jack hughes ♔

summary: jack calls his mom in tears and on the brink of a panic attack because he messed up, and all he wants is for his girl to come back to him. and with a little help from ellen, he knows exactly what to do for that to happen.

warnings: sad jack, asshole-ish jack (implied), one very mild mention of dark thoughts, sad, fights

publish date: 02/11/24

notes: i like how this is my first jack fic and i made him an asshole (kind of, it's implied). anyways as soon as i started writing this i was in love with my writing (in a non-conceited way). like just the way the story flowed had me dying. there’s also only one thing of dialogue at the beginning for a while but i promise there is some at the end, i got side tracked while writing. BUT THIS IS GOOD I PROMISE! (and there's a little fluff at the end) based off of this ask that i got a while ago -> idea! add yourself to the taglist ➺ taglist!

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“Mom I think I really fucked up.”

Jack was in tears as he sat with his back against the door to his bedroom. His room was messy, with pieces of clothing scattered everywhere, suit jackets flung across his bed, and take-out containers on his nightstand, but the only thing he was focused on was the cardboard box that was set less than a foot in front of him. It had a card resting on top of it, his name written in the tiniest of letters. He could faintly smell her perfume on the sweatshirts and shirts that were left inside.

When he walked out of his room, the box was something he wasn’t expecting to see. It was resting in Luke’s hands when he walked out, proceeding to ask what it was. When Luke said it was from her, he grabbed it and ran back into his room, shutting and closing the door behind him. He had only managed to get one flap of the box open before he started crying uncontrollably.

He had seen the gray material, the logo of his team branded on it. He had backed himself up against the door and tried to collect himself and failed. Deep in his mind, he knew he shouldn’t have the right to be acting like this, he had been the one to end it. Yet, seeing the aftermath without her made him realize what he had truly lost.

The nights when he came home from a game that they won, she wasn’t there to congratulate him, to celebrate with him, to let him hold her. The nights when he came home from a game that they lost, she wasn’t there to console him, to comfort him, to tell him it wasn’t his fault, to run her fingers through his hair. The mornings that he woke up and felt lonely and cold because she wasn’t in his arms, she wasn’t there to pepper his face with little kisses. She wasn’t there to wake him up in the middle of the night because she was hungry or because she had this genius idea. She wasn’t there to cook dinner for him and Luke when that was all they needed after a long day. She wasn’t there to help him pack and unpack for a road trip. She wasn’t there to help him pick out what suit to wear for the game. She wasn’t there at all anymore.

The thoughts plagued him, angered him, saddened him, hurt him. For some reason, these thoughts never came up before, never this strong. Seeing the things that had been hers, became hers, and weren’t his hurt him. It made him realize what he had done, and what he had done was real. He couldn’t help the new thoughts that came to his mind, the ones that called him stupid, the ones who called him an idiot, the ones that were dark enough that he hated himself for those too.

When he found himself finding it hard to breathe he reached for his phone, calling Ellen. Ellen was not expecting those words when she picked up the phone. No one had known about their breakup, no one had known about Jack’s words that he said to her that night, no one had known about the way she tried to fight but he refused to even listen to her.

Everyone knew that the two were off, however. Jack hadn’t been performing well, barely even getting a couple of shots on goal during games. He had gotten into a few fights, mostly because he was stressed and every little thing someone did set him off. He didn’t go out to celebrate with the team after a win, he distanced himself from everyone including his brother.

She, on the other hand, hadn’t talked to anyone in the past two weeks. She never went to the apartment anymore, she didn’t reach out to Luke or the team at all, and she never drove Jack and Luke to games anymore, it was like she disappeared. In reality, she had been huddled up in her apartment, tears ending up on every piece of clothing she wore, they ended up on the sheets too. There was an abundance of tissues in a plastic bag that rested on the left side of her bed. Her TV had been playing nothing but sad romance movies; The Notebook, Irreplaceable You, All the Bright Places, The Fault in Our Stars, and Five Feet Apart were a few. She hadn’t moved from her spot unless she had to go to the bathroom.

Her main source of food was the snacks that she brought into her bedroom almost every other day. Sometimes if she was feeling up for it, she would order something and wait for it in the living room. She hadn’t attempted to cook, reminding her too much of when she did it for him. She hadn’t understood why he did it, what prompted him to do it, what prompted the thoughts, what she had done wrong to make him feel differently about him. She didn’t understand why he wouldn’t allow her to talk, allow them to talk it through. It was a messy night, his voice was doing the abundance of the talking.

He had yelled at her for no reason. They had been sitting in the living room peacefully and she had commented on going out for dinner. It wasn’t the comment that set him off, he had been in his mind for the majority of the night prior to that moment. He didn’t know what brought these feelings on but he had to get them out. He had screamed for about ten minutes while she sat in silence tearing up. She had attempted to fight for them, saying she was sorry for god knows what. She had attempted to get an answer out of him but was met with silence. She had stormed out after 5 minutes of pleading, leaving Jack as alone as she felt.

Jack receiving the package was the first form of communication they had had in two weeks. And that had really put things into perspective for him. He had babbled all of this to Ellen, having to take breaks a lot to control his sobs and breathing. Ellen felt absolutely heartbroken as she listened to her son cry. She knew what he had done wrong, it was painfully obvious, but the amount of tears that she could hear from him made her sympathetic towards him.

Nonetheless, Ellen set him straight, not that he needed to be anyway, he knew he was wrong from the moment she left him sitting there. She had done her best to calm him down beforehand, Jack’s mind still in overdrive. He took in everything his mom said, agreeing with every point she made about him being wrong. She spoke in a gentle yet strict tone, letting him know that she felt sorry for him but what he did was horrible. He knew that and listening to his mom say it too made it feel all the worse.

When Ellen hung up, Jack was once again left alone with the silence and his thoughts. He didn’t want to be alone anymore, yet he wasn’t in the right place to go and get her back. He thought he would just go over there and make it worse, make it so she would never want him back. So he walked out into the living room and looked at his brother who was watching TV, acting as if he had heard nothing.

Jack plopped himself down next to him on the couch. He went to say something but he could feel another wave of tears coming. He went to stand up but Luke pulled him down, not wanting him to be alone anymore either. Jack buried his head into his younger brother’s shoulder and sobbed, slightly embarrassed but too sad to worry about it.

✧༺✎༻∞

The next morning, Jack woke up with a pounding headache but he knew he needed to get his shit together. He took the box y/n had sent him and taped it back up, not taking one single thing out of there. He dressed in her favorite outfit of his, deciding he’d at least look how she liked him too. He even washed his hair, knowing how much she loved it when it was soft and looked like a fluffy mop on top of his head.

He knew that no matter how good he made himself look, it would have almost no impact on the outcome of this conversation. He knew how much he had hurt her and how much trust he had to earn back. He knew that no matter how many gifts he bought or made would ever make up for it, but that didn’t stop him from buying her favorite ice cream and flowers and making her a card.

He drove to her apartment and jumped out of the car as soon as he got there, running up the stairs as fast as he could. He knocked on the door lightly, waiting somewhat impatiently for her to open the door. It took a few minutes before he had to knock again and this time, she opened it seconds later, “What?”

“Please don’t close the door. I just want to talk.”

“Oh so-”

“Yes. “So now I want to talk.” Please y/n/n.” He cut her off, immediately knowing what she was going to say. His puppy dog eyes were out in full force and she didn’t know whether or not it was on purpose or a subconscious habit of his when he asked for something he wanted.

She sighed, knowing that she couldn’t stand his eyes any longer. She turned around and walked further into her apartment, waiting for Jack to follow her. When he stepped in, his heart stopped at the broken glass that lay in the kitchen. He followed her with his eyes as he shut the door. He watched as she sat down and wrapped a blanket around her.

Before he got there, she had been watching another sad movie, Kiss and Cry this time. She had been caught off guard when she heard the knock and only wished it would go away. However, when she heard it again, she got up and opened it, feeling both upset and frustrated at who was there. Hearing the way his voice broke when he talked also aided in her decision to let him in. She felt sad when he sat down next to her and reached out to place his hand on her thigh like an instant reaction. He retracted it as soon as it made contact with the blanket, nervous that she would yell at him.

She looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to say something. He cleared his throat and took a deep breath in preparation, “I’m sorry. And I know that no matter what I say, or how much I tell you I’m sorry, it won’t be enough. It won’t justify what I did, but just hear me out please.”

She nodded, allowing him to go on. The look on his face showed the gratitude he had for her response, “I shouldn’t have said what I said. Truthfully I don’t know why I said what I said. I think I must’ve been nervous about our future together but I feel like that’s just an excuse at that point. I don’t know what I was thinking, believe me. And I’m sorry I didn’t let us even try to talk it out, to let you talk. I- I just- To be honest, I really don’t know, y/n.

“ I feel so lost right now, I hated you not being there. I hated not being able to come home from a game and celebrate with you when we won or have you comfort me when we lost. I hated not being able to wake up and you were the first thing I saw. I hated not being able to make dinner with you or play pranks on Luke or having you wake me up in the middle of the night because you had the most random epiphany.” He gave her a little laugh, “I hated not knowing that you were okay.”

She had been looking at the ground the whole time he spoke until he said that. She looked up and made eye contact with him, both of them harboring tears in their eyes. She knew that he meant it, she knew that he didn’t mean anything he said two weeks ago. At first, when she initially thought he would come to her apartment to plead for her back, she wasn’t going to accept the ‘I don’t know’ excuse, but she could tell that he really didn’t know why he did it.

She reached out to hold his hand, toying with his fingers, “I believe you, Jack. And I’m not going to say it’s okay because it’s not, but I know when you mean something, Jack. I know that you didn’t have a reason to lash out.”

She took a deep breath before continuing, “But it’s going to take a while for this to get back to how it was between us.”

“And I know that, and I’m willing to take it at your pace, and communicate with you more, and be there for you more.”

She nodded and turned away slightly to look at the TV, “You wanna finish this movie with me?”

He smiled and nodded, following her request to sit next to her. Jack had thought back to the moment when he walked into the apartment for the first time, and remembered the broken glass, “Are you okay?”

“Now I am, why?”

“Because there was broken glass in the kitchen.”

“Oh, yeah. I knocked it off yesterday? Maybe the day before, I don’t remember. Hadn’t had the opportunity to pick it back up.”

Jack went over and picked it up in case she was to forget and got up in the middle of the night to grab a glass of water. When he got back, she laid her head on his chest and played with one of the strings from his hoodie, “This is my favorite hoodie.”

He nodded again, rubbing her back, “I know.”

“And you washed your hair.”

He felt his face flush at the realization that she had figured out what he was trying to do, “Did you think that the way you looked would convince me to take you back?”

He gave her a lopsided grin and shrugged a little, “A little.”

She sat up and kissed him, “You’re lucky it did, Hughes.”

They sat in a comfortable silence before y/n looked up at him, “Jack?”

“Yeah, baby?” The name was a force of habit and he went to apologize but when he looked down he saw her grinning at him.

“When can I get those sweatshirts back?”

Jack let out a laugh, “They’re in my car, didn’t even take them out of the box. Want me to go get them?”

“Yes please.” He went to move her off of him but she clung to him, missing how warm he felt in the past two weeks, “You gotta let go of me baby if you want them.”

She shook her head, snuggling deeper into them, “You want this one?”

She just nodded and briefly let go of him, allowing him to take it off. He slipped it over her head and then opened his arms so she could lay back on him, which she did immediately. They continued watching and she felt a tear hit her head, looking up in worry, “Jack?”

“Hmm?” He sniffled and wiped his tears off his face with his left hand.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, just missed you, is all.”

She only smiled and hugged him tighter, both of them falling asleep minutes later with how comfortable they felt with one another.

𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻 ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

if your name is crossed out it means i couldn't tag you

#sunny lune writes #jack hughes #jh86 #jack hughes x reader

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kaciebello · 2 months

Text

Us before you and me

Masterlist

Luke Castellan x Hades! reader (implied, fem)

Summary: Luke and the readers’ relationship before they became a couple. Luke is an absolute loser when it comes to crushes.

Warning: no use of y/n, luke is a total looser

author note: English is not my first language so I am sorry for any mistakes beforehand. Proofread by me and me only (Ｔ▽Ｔ)

word count: 1,3k

Luke Castellan was 14 when he came to the camp, and he was sad. Not only did he just lose a friend that turned into a tree, but he had to pretend to like his dad. Now that he was 15, his mind was somewhere else, his friends to be exact. He tried to make friends with everyone. But these two in the Hermies cabin just caught his eyes. They argued all the time it was almost unbearable, and yet they refused to sleep anywhere but next to each other. It has been a few months since they got here, and somehow their banter has extended to him.

So now that he and Chris were watching the Aphrodite girlies, he had turned him out. He was talking about something Luke did not care about. He only started to pay attention when he slapped him. Luke gave him a confused look.

“You're not even looking man,” Cris says.

“Because it's creepy!” Luke argues back. It was creepy, they disguised themself as resting campers next to the Aphrodite cabin. To him, and everyone else, it looked like Cris just discovered what a woman is. Granted, they just turned 15, so he is certain with that. Luke couldn't bring himself to care. When he thought about girls only one face came to his mind, and he was not about to confess that to his friend.

“Don't you see them! They look good!” Chri says back.

“I like someone already.” Chris looks at him with a deadpaned look. Absolute silence. Maybe Luke really should not have said anything. According to Chris, Luke could have anyone in the camp. Even crowing him as the heartthrob of the camp. Luke tried to move on as fast as he could from this conversation, however, Chris's attention was sparked, and would not let go of the conversation.

They kept going back and forth and none of them noticed a familiar girl come their way.

“ Stop spying on the aphrodite cabin like they are some prey!” She says, effectively tearing them out of their argument.

“ Prey?? What are we? Animas?” Luke was quick to defend himself. He didn't even want to be here.

“ Not you, you raging virgin,” Chris says and gives him a side-eye. The girl just rolls her eyes.

“I'm not a virgin!” Luke's voice cracked, not something he wanted to happen while defending his honor. His eyes snap to the girl, hoping that she would believe him. But she looked like she wouldn't even believe he had hair on his head. Luke signs defeat. There is no winning in this. He just has to come to terms with the fact that his crush thinks he's a total loser.

–

When Luke turned 16 he realized he wanted to look ripped. And he wanted to do you to get girls, well a specific one but he will not say that aloud. He will tell you he just wants to be a better hero with glory and all that. However Luke was 16, and he had no better idea than to practice in front of his crush.

He was nervous. Sweating. He couldn't tell if it was from the sword fighting or her. She was just sitting down and looking at him. His heart was beating way too fast for his liking. So he was very glad when his opponent called it quits and he could rest.

He went and sat down next to the girl. She smiled and handed him a towel and cold water. He rolled his sleeves up his shoulders to feel some of the cold air. The girl had to do a double-take at him. He could see her in the corner of his eye looking at him. He flexed his arms just a little.

“ Exposing your biceps like that? What a slut.” She says. His eyes widen for a second before he composes himself. He turns to her with a smirk on his face.

“ You like that don't you.” That stopped her in the tracks. He could practically see the clogs turn in her head.

“Maybe I do.” She says, her eyes fixated on his arms. Luke went red and looked away. He could feel her arm on him as she studied his mussels. He let her arm wander, they were seemingly in their world. Her arms slip to his chest. He looked down and then back to her.

“ I know my pecs are big but can you stop objectifying me?” The girl stopped in her tracks and looked him dead in the eyes.

“Nah.” With that, she just continued to feel him up. He just let her.

—

Luke was 17 when one of his closest friends was claimed by Hades and had to move out of the cabin into a small room above the medical storage unit. He helped her move the stuff, not that she had much but still. When he walked into the room he saw her standing with Chris, who upon seeing him gave him a smirk. Luke sat the bag down and turned around to see Crish walking out giving him a wink.

Luke turned to the girl with a confused look. She just shrugged and thanked him for bringing the bag. He could feel the tension in the air. Luke looked around the room. It wasn't big, but it was something, and first and foremost it was private. Not something he could say about his bed. He looked at the girl again. She was not sporting a black camp shirt instead of an orange one. Fitting for a Hades kid.

When his eyes got to her face his heart jumped to her throat for a bit. She was looking at him with a sheepish smile.

“So Chris said-” Right then and there he knew. He knew his friend had said something he shouldn't.

“Don't believe Chris !” He yelped and grabbed her hand. Silently he begged her to forget whatever the boy told her. She raised her eyebrows at him.

“ So you don't get a major ‘love boner’ every time you see me?” A whine lest Luke's lips.

“Why did he have to put it like that.” He says his voice high-pitched. The girl just let out a laugh.

—

Luke was 18 when he confessed. He was 18 when she confessed back. And he was 18 when he kissed his crush of 4 years. He was 18 now lying in the Hermes cabin looking at the ceiling dreamingly. He could only remember what her hands and lips felt on him. The other 3 boys were taking none of that.

“He's a mess. Like mess mess.” Says Connor looking at his counselor with a weird look, before turning to his twin who wore a similar expression.

“ Mess in distress but still the best dressed?” Answered Travis. He has been cursed by one of the Apollo kids to say things that rhyme but not really. It's been going on for a week now with no sign of going away.

“He's definitely not blessed dresses, I can tell you that.” Says Chris sitting at the foot of Luke's bed cleaning his nails.

Lukes wasn't paying them attention. He finally achieved what he wanted since 15. He could handle the teasing if it meant he could sneak into her room after calling lights out. One of the twins poked him in the ribs but he just swatted them away.

He could hear them say he was gone, but the only thing he could think about was his girlfriend.

It was a year later when he was 19 and risked everything.

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cobrakaisb · 1 month

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day 'n' nite

summary: every friday night, like clockwork, the older counselors and campers waste their nights away at a party. usually you’re the one taking care of luke but tonight the roles are reversed and all the cards are laid out on the table.

word count: 3.1k

featuring: drunk!reader, happy luke + reader (hence the happy luke picture in the header), them being giggly and in love, a little sad at the end (but only a teeny tiny bit)

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giggles tumble out of your mouth, filling the already loud atmosphere with your pure joy. you clutch onto katrina’s arm, pulling her flush against your side, as your cheek rests on her bicep. she laughs at you, moving her arm to support your weight.

you gasp, loudly, as her hand rests gently on your waist. “i have a boyfriend,” you snap, suddenly able to hold yourself up.

you stand, albeit a bit slowly, and move away from the girl. she does her best to hide her laughter, but fails. her laugh, however, builds up more anger in your chest, and you cross your arms.

“oh he’s your boyfriend now? i thought you two didn’t do labels,” katrina teases.

you pout at her words, answering, “well luke says that not me. everyone knows we’re together.”

“who’s together?” jade, a girl from the apollo cabin asks, sliding into the spot next to katrina.

you throw a nasty look in her direction, or what you assume is a nasty look. even in your inebriated state, you know that jade can’t be trusted. she was one of the first campers to hate on you, and she’s one of the few that continue to do so. once the novelty of hera having a demigod child wore off, most people left you to your own devices. there were still the occasional whispers and rumors, but jade and her friend group always seemed to be behind them.

“none of your business,” you snap, turning your nose up at her like a fifth grader.

she scoffs at you, “ugh whatever,” and walks away.

you smile, a satisfied look on your face as you reclaim your seat next to katrina. she’s holding onto two cups, and you’re positive that one of them belongs to you. you reach for one of them, but she pulls it away, lifting it just out of your reach.

“i think you need a break,” she says, voice soft and caring.

“no ‘m fine,” you mumble, trying to reach for the cup again but completely missing.

that’s the funniest thing in the world, and you burst into another giggling fit. katrina stares at you, a soft smile on her face. your hand comes up to cover your mouth, but your shoulders continue to shake with, now somewhat stifled, laughter. you can’t even register what’s so funny, but everything seems to have you in a giggly mood. one that only gets worse when luke walks across the way, followed by a group of boys who you know to be his friends.

“luke looks like a dragon prince,” you announce, pointing in his direction.

katrina chuckles at your words; they make no sense. you, however, think they’re the most accurate description in the world. the orange and red hues from the large fire pit, courtesy of cabin nine, illuminate his features. he’s laughing at something one of his friends said, but his eyes are still deep and serious. the white scar tracing down his cheek shines brightly in the dark, and you wonder if landon knows he hurt his king.

luke feels your eyes on him, because he turns and meets your gaze, smiling at you. you gasp as he throws you a subtle nod, like something out of a teen movie. your right hand clutches at katrina’s shirt sleeve, and you shake the material vigorously between your fingers. she looks to you, and notices the deep flush and dilated pupils.

“he’s looking at me. i think he has a crush on me. oh my gods what do i do? i know my mother’s the goddess of marriage, but i’m not ready for this,” you ramble.

katrina laughs, again. luke looks your way, again. you start to panic, again.

“relax,” katrina says, “he’s your boyfriend.”

her tone is teasing, but you don’t pick up on it. all you feel is shock. your mouth falls open, and your head swivels between the curly headed boy and your best friend.

“you’re lying,” you conclude.

katrina shakes her head, “i’m not.”

before you can refute her claims, the dragon king himself is in front of you. he slides into the empty seat on your left hand side, throwing his arm casually over your shoulder. there’s a can of something in his other hand, and he lifts it up to his mouth for a swig. you watch, with deep fascination, as his adam’s apple bobs while he swallows the liquid. when he’s done, he leans down to your ear, lips ghosting over the piercings that adorn it.

“hi,” he whispers, pulling at your golden hoop helix piercing with his teeth.

you're stunned into silence. all that you can muster is a small gasp, and you turn to katrina, wondering what you should do. she’s already staring at you, but so are these other two guys, and a girl who you barely recognize. you point to luke with your thumb, asking a silent question. katrina nods, and one of the guys, another brunette, hides his laugh behind a red solo cup.

you turn your head again, making eye contact with the cute guy next to you. you just stare at him for a while, and he holds your gaze the whole time. his right hand, you realize, is tracing circles on your exposed shoulder. the pad of his thumb is calloused and rough against your soft skin, but you like to contrast. you lean into his touch, shifting closer to him on the wooden bench.

“ouch,” you mumble, lifting up your hand.

“what’s wrong?” he asks, eyebrows furrowing in concern.

“i think i got a splinter,” you explain, holding up your palm for him to see.

he inspects your hand, and there’s absolutely nothing there, but replies, “don’t worry. i’ll take you to the infirmary tomorrow.”

you nod, and he kisses your palm, right where the supposed splinter is. his lips are soft, you think, but then why is everyone giggling? you look around, but none of the four people surrounding the two of you provide any sort of explanation.

“i know. my girlfriend makes me use this lip balm she really likes,” he says, and you’re still confused.

“huh?” you ask, head tilting.

“my girlfriend gave me this lip balm. it’s from glossy or something,” he answers, holding up the tube.

you snatch it from him, looking at the label. even drunk, you know a high quality lip balm when you see one.

“glossier! i love it there,” you exclaim.

everyone laughs again, even the boy next to you this time. you look at him, a shy smile on your face, as you unscrew the cap. you squeeze the tube, and lift the lip balm to your puckered lips. you rub them together, smacking them a couple times. luke doesn’t take his eyes off you; you don’t take your eyes off him.

there’s relatively no distance between you two now, but you can’t bring yourself to care. luke doesn’t seem to mind either as he shifts his arm and way that pulls your body even closer to his. the little space that remained is gone, and your thighs are pressed together. you want to be touching him in some way, and lift your left leg to drape over his right one. you nudge his left calf with your converse, gaining his attention. you giggle at that, stifling your laughs with his shoulder.

“she’s gone,” he observes.

“oh i know,” katrina answers.

“you smell so good,” you say, adjusting your head so that your cheek rests against him, and your eyes meet his.

the two boys, the ones who you can’t recognize at the moment, burst out laughing. your eyebrows furrowed at that, a soft huff escaping you as you cross your arms and lean further into luke. you close your eyes for a minute, basking in his warm presence and the smoky undertones emitting from his shirt.

“how many drinks have you had?” he asks, large hand rubbing up and down your back.

“two,” you answer confidently, holding up two fingers.

katrina scoffs, “try three cups of jungle juice and whatever else at the pregame.”

“you pregamed?” luke asks, voice low against your ear.

“mhm. cause what if they didn’t have any drinks i liked?” you reply, holding your hands up in defense.

he chuckles at your words, humming in agreement as he kisses your forehead. that action, for some reason, registers as oddly intimate in your mind, and so you’re pushing him away. in your drunken state, you can't comprehend that he’s your boyfriend.

“i shouldn’t be doing this. katrina says i have a boyfriend,” you slur, shaking your head.

“no, you said you have a boyfriend,” katrina replies.

“well either way!” you yell, throwing your hands up in exasperation.

“isn’t he your boyfriend?” one of the boys asks, pointing to luke.

“he can’t be. he’s too hot,” you answer confidently.

everyone laughs at that, except for you and luke. luke’s cheeks are flushed red, but he looks at you with nothing but love and adoration in his eyes. he smiles at you, gently shaking his head in disbelief.

you shrink back into yourself, slouching down in his arms so that the back of your head rests against his shoulder. luke’s hand fiddles with the hem of your jeans, fingers ghosting over your hips, and you squirm. you shove his hand away, covering your face with your own.

“what’s wrong?” he asks, bending down so only you can hear him.

“i embarrassed myself,” you whine, peeking at him through a gap in your fingers.

luke chuckles, “it’s okay baby. i still love you.”

you light up at his words, wrapping your arms around his neck. you pull his face down to yours, smacking kisses all over, only stopping to giggle from pure, unfiltered happiness. normally, you save the affection for the private confines of your cabins, but all of your reservations are out the window at the moment.

luke smiles brightly at your actions, dimples and everything, as he squeezes your hips three times. it’s your silent code, an unspoken way for the two of you to communicate your love and appreciation for one another, and you smile happily at his use of it. you hug him again, burying your face into the crook of his neck. you can tell that he’s been smoking, and maybe that’s why his eyes are a little red-rimmed. you don’t mind, however, and opt to keep your head resting there. his arms wrap securely around you, cradling your body the way someone would hold a toddler.

“tired?” he asks, rubbing a hand down your back.

you want to say no, but the giant yawn betrays you.

“c’mon, i’ll bring you to bed,” he says, patting your thigh to signal for you to get up.

you agree, holding out your hand for him to take. once your fingers are safely stowed away in his palm, you walk up to katrina.

“goodnight tree,” you mumble, hugging her tightly.

“g’night,” she replies, squeezing you just as tight.

with that, you let luke lead you towards the hera cabin as you focus on not tripping over your own feet. you stumble on the stairs, and luke squeezes your waist, holding you steady. he’s your rock, and you don’t know what you’d do without him.

he opens the door, waiting for you to enter the cabin before following. you look around, and your eyes land on the giant statue taking up a majority of the room. you gasp, hands covering your mouth, as you meet your mother’s cold and calculating stare.

“i don’t think she should be seeing me like this. can we go to your cabin?” you ask, turning to face luke.

“it’s a statue,” luke deadpans, shaking his head.

“but she’s all knowing,” you reply, pointing to the marble goddess.

“you’re gonna be fine,” luke explains softly.

you’re eyes are wide, and you continuously shake your head no. you grab onto luke’s hand, intertwining your fingers together. his hand is rough and worn from all the training he does, a testament to how long he’s been at camp. your mind wanders back to his position as king of the dragons, and you want to ask him if his hands are scarred from the claws of a rival. yet, it doesn’t seem appropriate, so you keep your mouth shut.

“where’s you toiletry bag?” luke ask, letting go of you hand as he wanders around the cabin.

“i don’t know,” you answer, following him towards the area you’ve deemed your bed.

he huffs, standing back from the bed to monitor the situation. his hands are on his hips, eyes scanning the area for your bag with makeup remover, skincare, and other bathroom necessities. you find the pose extremely comical, and laugh. he looks at you over his shoulder, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“what’s so funny?” he asks.

“you look like my dad,” you wheeze.

he pauses, mouth agape like a fish out of water. he opens and closes his mouth a couple of times, but ultimately comes up empty handed. just when it seems like he’s about to say something, you’re bounding over to your bedside table, grabbing a bag that’s clearly overloaded.

“found it!” you shout.

luke cringes at the volume, but takes the bag from your hands without further questioning. he marches over to your closet, the one he helped you set up, and grabs a small towel from one of the shelves. you smile at him. he’s so endearing, you think, how’d i get so lucky?

“let’s go to the bathroom,” he says, tilting his head towards the door of your cabin.

you nod in agreement, taking his outstretched hand. luke smiles at you, allowing you to lead the way, despite your drunken state. he admires your beauty in the moment, although he knows you’d argue you’re anything but. your makeup is messy, your cheeks are flushed from all the alcohol, and your top is falling off your shoulder, yet he still believes that you can rival aphrodite. he shouldn’t think that, he realizes, as she’s one of the only gods he still prays to, but he does.

the two of you enter the bathroom, and you're surprised by how empty it is. however, the peace and quiet is nice for a usually chaotic space. you decide on a mirror and sink in the middle of the collection, and turn to face luke, waiting for his approval. when he sets the bag down, and removes the towel from his shoulder, you know you’ve made a good choice.

“alright, let’s take your makeup off,” he says, patting the small of your back.

you fumble with the zipper of your pouch, trying and failing to get the bag opened. you pout, holding it out to luke, with a pleading look in your eyes.

“i’ll help you. you want to sit on the counter?” he asks.

you nod, and turn around so your back is towards the sink and mirrors. you brace yourself, ready to test your physical strength in your drunken state. you fail the first attempt, not even making it onto the ledge. luke watches, amusement clear in his eyes, because it’s not like you to ask for help.

“need a hand?”

“no i can do it! i’m a demigod,” you answer, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

he chuckles at your response, but goes back to digging through your bag for the cotton pads and micellar water. he also takes out your face wash, moisturizer, toothbrush, toothpaste, and other skin care items he thinks you might need.

“luke,” you whisper, tugging on his sleeve.

he hums in acknowledgment, turning away from the array of products to face you.

“help?” you ask with a shy smile.

“i thought you didn’t need it, cause your a demigod,” he teases, crossing his arms.

you’re drawn to his muscles, flexing against his tee and you’re temporarily left speechless. he’s just so hot, you think.

“gods i hope my mom answers my prayers,” you blurt out.

“about what?”

“us getting married. i really want to. i think…if we were in vegas, i’d drag you down to the chapel,” you reply.

luke’s mouth drops open in shock, “you think about marrying me?”

“nonstop,” you answer, finally climbing onto the counter.

he stands there for a minute, unsure of what to say or do. all he knows is that he thinks about getting married to you too. he envisions you, regal as ever, like the true daughter of the queen of the gods, walking towards him down an aisle. it’d be small. you, him, and a handful of close friends, but every single part of it would be meaningful.

“let’s get you ready for bed,” he says, changing the conversation.

“okay!”

it takes him much longer than usual to get you through your bedtime routine, but he doesn’t mind if you don’t. and, you seem pretty content right now. you’re smiling and giggling, making goofy faces at him in the mirror with toothpaste smeared on your chin and a fluffy headband keeping your hair at bay. the whole scene feels oddly domestic, especially when he takes your towel and gently wipes the corners of your mouth. it’s serene. it’s perfect.

“you’re perfect y’know that?” he asks, looking at you earnestly.

you flush, turning away from him.

“stop.”

“‘m not lying! you’re perfect for me,” he whispers, cupping your cheeks.

you pucker your lips, and luke lays a gentle kiss on them. you burst into giggles, engulfing him in a hug.

“i want to change. come back to my cabin? please?”

he agrees, following you to the end of the earth. it was an easy request, nothing too extraordinary.

“let me get my pajamas, and then i’ll be right back, okay?” he mumbles, kissing your forehead before leaving you alone with the eternal glow of hera’s flames.

by the time he gets back, you're standing in one of his tee shirts and a pair of sleep shorts. he’s just wearing a tank top and flannel pants, put he comes up behind you to wrap you in his arms. you away for a minute, dancing to a song only you two can hear. then, you wiggle out of his grasp, climb into bed, and pull the covers up to your chin.

“come lie with me,” you beg, patting the spot next to you.

he wraps you up on his arms, pulling you flush against his chest. once your breaths even out, he sneaks out of the bed, waiting just a second to make sure you don’t wake up. quietly, he pulls the candy out of his pocket — two blue raspberry jolly ranchers.

“please hera, let me marry her. aphrodite, keep her by my side, whatever it takes. please.”

and for the first time in a long time, luke castellan makes a genuine offering.

taglist: @percabethlvr @iwantahockeyhimbo @hottiewifeyyyy @loveryoushouldcomeoverr @maraschinocherry3 @used2beeeeee @harrysnovia @cami-is-reading @mxtokko @cxcilla @obxstiles

#luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan fluff #luke castellan pjo #all american bitch series #cobrakaisb writing

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theemporium · 1 month

Text

[1.6k] in which a flower bouquet arrives at your door that certainly wasn't sent by your boyfriend. (based off this request)

series masterlist

In your defence, you had nothing to do with the prank.

It had taken a while for Luke to come around to the idea of you and Quinn being together. He loved you both, wanted nothing more than two of his favourite people in the world to be happy. But it still took some time to get used to the shift in relationships considering almost a year ago the two of you barely spoke.

But all things considered, he was doing much better than you expected—except for one thing.

Luke had deemed it necessary that his brother proved himself worthy of dating his best friend.

You thought he was joking. Quinn thought he was being dramatic. And Jack thought it was the funniest thing he had ever heard, meaning he totally enabled his younger brother into taking the whole thing seriously.

You had expected Luke to give his oldest brother a shovel talk. Maybe threaten him a little. Maybe even whine about it a little longer, because honestly he got over that phase a lot quicker than you expected.

You hadn’t expected a series of trials to be set up for your boyfriend.

It started off with random questions thrown at Quinn at the most unsuspecting times, ways for Luke to see if his older brother really knew you. He asked about your favourite colour, your favourite snacks, what you liked when you were sad and so many more simple questions that had Quinn rolling his eyes as he answered.

Then, it escalated to throwing random scenarios. Like what Quinn would do if you were stranded and he was halfway across the country. Or what Quinn would do if you had been abducted by aliens and returned with no memory of him. Or what Quinn would do if you decided to become a diehard Leafs fan.

It was annoying for Quinn, but ultimately it was harmless.

You hadn’t realised there was another test. You hadn’t realised you inspired it when you were on the phone with Luke a couple of weeks ago.

It became a staple in your relationship for Quinn to send you a bouquet of flowers. It was his little way of showing he cared, of showing that distance wasn’t going to get in between him showing his love for you. It was sweet and it made your heart swoon and he fucking adored the way you always called him as soon as they arrived, sharing your reaction to his chosen bouquet each time.

So, in all honesty, it was no shock to you when a bouquet had been delivered to your door that morning. You hadn’t bothered to look for a note because you knew who it was from, you knew that Quinn would probably walk out of your room and see the flowers and throw some stupid, cheesy line at you that had your body flushing.

“What the fuck?”

It never occurred to you that Quinn was never the one who sent them.

He stumbled out of your room around thirty minutes after you initially woke up, his eyes still tired and bleary from sleep. He was dragging his feet along the floor as he walked, a pair of sweatpants halfheartedly thrown on as he went off to find you and try to drag you back to bed. After all, it wasn’t often he got the chance to visit you during the season. Spending that limited time together in bed sounded ideal to him.

However, his body was wide fucking awake the second he walked into the kitchen and saw an unfamiliar bouquet of flowers sat on the counter.

You turned to look at him, your smile waning a little when you noticed his pissed off expression. “Jesus, I know you’re bad before coffee in the mornings but I’ve never seen you this grumpy.”

Quinn ignored the jab, nodding towards the flowers. “Who sent you those?”

Your brows furrowed in confusion. “What? You did?”

Quinn frowned as he turned to look at you. “No, I didn’t. I chose tulips. Those aren’t tulips.”

You shot him a blank look, very well aware the huge bouquet of red roses were not tulips.

“Maybe you forgot what you chose,” you told him with a shrug, taking a step towards him so you could wind your arms around his waist. You felt him lean into the embrace, wrapping one arm around you as the other reached towards the flowers. “You can’t remember what you’ve chosen every single time.”

“I do,” Quinn said bluntly like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Of course he remembered which flowers he sent you. The boy spent more time than he cared to admit choosing a bouquet, trying to imagine which ones you’d like the most.

“Oh,” you murmured, but there was a cheesy grin making its way on your face as you placed a quick peck to his collarbone. “Petey was right, you’re such a sap.”

“I still don’t know how I feel about this newfound friendship between you and Petey,” Quinn grumbled when he noticed a note tucked between the stems of the flowers. He reached for it, a frown on his face as his eyes glanced over the note. “Who’s George?”

You blinked, pulling your head back. “I don’t know a George.”

Quinn’s expression darkened. “Well, some creep called George knows you and is now sending you flowers.”

“What?” You grumbled as you reached for the note.

pretty flowers for a pretty girl –george xx

You blinked. “What the fuck?”

Quinn’s eyes narrowed at the bouquet of flowers, his arm tightening around you like he was proving a point. “They are a terrible set of roses anyways. Red is so tacky. What the fuck does George think it is, Valentine’s Day? He has shitty taste.”

“I—” You turned to your boyfriend. “Some random guy has my address and is sending me shit, and your priority is his taste in bouquets?”

“I’m just saying,” Quinn grumbled with a shrug of his shoulders. “He isn’t gonna win you over with some measly roses.”

You shook your head in response. “Babe, you are—”

RING! RING! RING!

The two of you froze for a short moment, glancing at each other as your phone’s ringing continued to echo through your small kitchen. There was a moment of hesitation before Quinn reached for it, shoulders tensed like he was expecting to see some unknown number on your screen.

His body visibly relaxed when he saw it was a facetime call from Luke.

He handed you the phone, settling in behind you with his arms still wound around you like he was unwilling to let go of you anytime soon. He hooked his chin on your shoulder, leaning his head against yours as you answered the call.

“Oh. Ew.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled fondly at your best friend. “Is there a reason you’re calling me before ten? I’m surprised you’re even awake right now.”

“Just wanted to check in,” Luke said, his eyes narrowed like he was analysing something. “Hm. You look quite calm there, Quinn.”

Quinn startled a little, lifting his head. “Did you expect me not to be calm when you called?”

“I was hoping you’d be in some caveman-ish jealous fit of rage. I had the boys on standby to make sure you didn’t tear the college down.”

You blinked in confusion.

“Are you George?” Quinn asked, frowning at his youngest brother’s grinning face.

“No, Quinn, my name is Luke.”

He narrowed his eyes. “You’re a little shit.”

“What the hell, Luke?” You asked, sighing deeply at whatever your best friend was about to say. You already knew whatever the reason was—most likely encouraged by Jack, again—was going to be too much for your brain to handle this early in the morning.

“What? I told you I was testing him!” Luke said, like it was the only defence he needed. “The note was hidden in the flowers to make sure he would go looking for it! I wanted to make sure he was putting in the effort with you, if he actually cared about the weird flower thing or if he would just pretend like it was fine.”

You blinked. “You’re insane,” you said eventually, pausing for a short moment before you continued. “And it’s not a weird flower thing.”

“I’m going to kill you when I next see you,” Quinn said, glaring at his little brother who looked far too smug for his own good. “And I’m going to shove these roses so far—”

“Talk to you later, bye!”

You sighed, shaking your head as you let out a breathless laugh. You turned your head, finding Quinn still frowning and glowering, and gently turned his face so you could kiss him. “He’ll get tired of these tests eventually.”

“Will he though?” Quinn muttered against your lips, his nose brushing against yours. “I swear his next test will be to tattoo your name across my forehead.”

You snorted. “If you do that, I’m breaking up with you.”

“That’s rude,” he mused and, for the first time since he woke up, a hint of a smile was tugging on his lips. “What if I do it on my own accord? Maybe I just want to prove my love for you, baby.”

“I like your pretty face. I’d rather not be staring at my own name whenever I look at it,” you retorted, watching as a full smile spread across his face as he leaned down to kiss you again.

“Cute,” he murmured before he pulled back completely, a determined glint in his eyes that you knew well. “C’mon, get ready.”

Your brows furrowed. “What? Where are we going?”

“To burn those flowers and then grab breakfast,” he answered simply.

“Quinn—”

“I refuse to look at them any longer, babe, they are atrocious.”

“You’re so dramatic.”

“It’s a Hughes thing.”

#quinn hughes #nhl #vancouver canucks #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes x you #quinn hughes x y/n #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes one shot #nhl x reader #nhl x you #nhl x y/n #nhl fic #nhl one shot

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slaybestieslay946 · 2 months

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HIIIII OMG IM THE ONE WHO REQUESTED THE READER JOINS LUKE AND I JUST WANTED TO SAY THAT WAS SO GOOD I LOVE IT SOSO MUCH THANK YOUUU

if it's not much can i request something else? like a 5+1 thing where it's like 5 times luke and reader didn't realize they were acting like a couple, and one time reaized it and made it official!

THIS IS SUCH A CUTE REQ SO SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG IVE BEEN SOOO BUSY AND I RLLY WANTED TO GET THIS ONE PERFECT.

I sorta changed it a bit so Luke is down bad and reader is the one who doesn't realise they were acting like a couple.

You Didn't Realise?!

MASTERLIST

summary: 5 ways Luke acts like your boyfriend, and the one reason you realised and made it official

word count: 2800

pairing: luke castellan x apollo!reader

warnings: minor swearing

I : He always looks for you first

When Luke returned from his quest, bloodied and battered, stumbling down half blood hill with a scar down his face, you were the first one he looked for.

He quickly spotted you, your hair shining in the sun. The sun always found you, like a magnetic tether, a trait inherited from your father.

In some ways, Luke could relate. He too also felt constantly drawn to you, and as soon as he caught sight of your face, all the humiliation from failing his quest melted away.

You were laughing with one of your half-siblings, playfully joking like you always did. And then your sibling nudged you, pointing up at Luke, and the smile dropped. Even in his dazed state, he noticed the way your face contorted in worry as you began to sprint up the hill towards him.

He wanted to wipe the sad expression away and replace it with the bright smile you usually sported.

You continued towards him, only slowing from your sprint when you were just metres away, coming to a stop directly in front of him.

Immediately, you took his face in your hands, inspecting the slight cuts and bruises that covered it.

“Not even gonna say hello?” He panted, suddenly out of breath, partly from his general exhaustion, and partly from the way you were holding his face.

“Hello Luke. Now tell me where it hurts.” You asked, moving your hands away from his face and running them down his sides, carefully watching his reaction to the pressure.

“Nothing hurts. I’m all good, Doc.” He chuckled to mask his wince as you skimmed over the patchwork of bruises.

“Like hell you are. We’re getting you to the infirmary. Where are Beckendorf and Rodriguez?” You asked, wrapping a hand around his shoulder to help him down the hill.

“Just comin’.” Luke said, jerking his head back in the direction he had just come from, and when you looked back for yourself, you could see the other two boys at the top of the hill, looking in significantly better shape than he did.

“Alright. C’mon then, we gotta get you patched up.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He answered, the same dazed smile

“You’ll be the death of me one day, y’know that?”

“Mhm.”

And as the rest of the camp looked on at the pair of you, they couldn’t help but wonder, when would you finally get together?

II : He always saves you dessert

Luke watched as you walked into the dining pavilion late, and as usual there was a patched up camper trailing behind you.

You turned to give the boy a stern talking to, more than likely chastising him for being injured in the first place, before striding up to collect your food.

Of course, when you turned up 20 minutes late to dinner, the dessert options became severely limited, and by the time you arrived there was no cake left, only a few pots of yoghurt made from the strawberries in the field.

Luke watched as you screwed your nose up in disgust. You hated yoghurt, he knew that (obviously).

You sighed, cutting your losses and retreating to the apollo table, a few end slices of bread and salad items being the only things on your plate.

“Hey man, how’d you get an extra portion?” Chris asked from beside Luke, and he snapped his gaze away from you and back to his brother.

“Oh, yeah, it’s for Y/N.”

Chris rolled his eyes, “Of course it is. You gonna give it to her, or are you just gonna sit here staring?”

“Shut up.”

“Y’know I’m right.”

“You’ll be right when you admit you love staring at Clarisse in capture the flag.” Luke replied quickly, standing up to walk over to you.

Chris mumbled something slightly incoherent, but Luke didn’t pay him any mind as he strode towards the Apollo table, plate in hand.

“Hey. Long day?” He asked, smirking at you while holding the plate behind his back so you couldn’t see it.

“Ugh, you have no idea Castellan. And I missed dessert again! Can you believe that?” You complained loudly, waving your crust of bread around like you were conducting an orchestra.

“Hmm, sounds rough. Lucky for you, someone saved you an extra portion.” He dramatically produced the plate from behind his back, revealing the extra large slice of cake he’d stolen from one of the nymphs.

You gasped in delight as he placed it before you, “Thank you!”

Luke couldn’t help but grin as well as you tore into it with glee, “Well, I know vanilla's your favourite, couldn’t have you missing out, could we?”

You sighed, “You’re the best.”

“I know,” He preened before softening his voice slightly, “Just don’t overwork yourself, ‘kay?”

“Alright. That goes for you too, hero.” You bargained, gazing at him intensely.

“Whatever you say, Doc.” He smirked, before turning around and leaving you to it.

You continued eating your slice of cake, unable to fight away the bright grin that invaded your face.

“You two are disgusting.” Will Solace remarked, the similar smile on his face not matching the tone of his words.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You- He- Ugh! You’re so hopeless!”

III : He always calls you up for demonstrations

“Hmm, I need someone to demonstrate…” He pondered out loud, surveying the archery range for someone suitable. And, as usual, Luke’s eyes were magnetically drawn to you as you walked past his group of students.

“And who better than my favourite daughter of Apollo! Hey, Y/N, c'mere a sec!”

You spun around to work out who was calling you over, rolling your eyes fondly as you realised it was the son of Hermes, as usual.

“What do you need now, Castellan?” You asked, striding over to the group.

“Just a quick demonstration from the best archer in camp.”

You sighed yet again, but gave in, just like you always did when he was involved.

“Fine.”

“Great! Now, kids, let's see how a professional does it.”

Luke then led the group around so they were parallel to you, and they could inspect your form as you fired.

You held up your bow, removing an arrow from the quiver slung around your shoulder and notching it into position all in one fluid movement.

“See, look how good her form is. Perfect posture. One foot forward, torso turned to the side,” Luke whispered, as if narrating a nature documentary for national geographic, “She pulls the string back to her cheek, breathes in, and releases!” He cried, and you did just that, sending the arrow flying into the centre of the target.

“A perfect shot.” Luke declared, smiling at you in pride.

You shrugged, “I never miss.”

“Alright kids, have a go yourselves, see if you can replicate Y/N’s form!” He said, sending them all rushing forwards to collect bows and have a go for themselves on the archery range.

“You need any more help? Or am I free to go?” You asked teasingly, placing the bow and quiver back in the right spot.

“Hm, I suppose you're done. Although, your posture could use a little work.”

“Oh, I thought it was perfect?”

“Did I say that?” He mused, although he was unable to hide the amusement in his eyes.

“Bye Castellan.” You sang, flicking his shoulder as you walked past him.

He turned around to watch you walk away, a tinge of blush coating his cheeks.

“Is she your girlfriend?” A small voice piped up from beside him, and he turned to see that one of the kids he was teaching hadn’t yet begun archery.

“No!” He said, all too quickly, before ushering the girl towards the bows.

VI : He’s always watching you work

“Ok, so, you’re going to need to keep an eye on that cut alright? And try not to get any mud in it this time, we don’t want it getting infected again, do we?”

The kid you were currently treating nodded vigorously, probably thinking that the more engaged he seemed the faster he would escape the infirmary.

“Alright, you can go back to training now.” You sighed, silently praying that the young Ares boy would at least try and be gentle on the lines of stitching in his arm, although you didn’t have much hope.

He thanked you quickly, before running off out of the room, grabbing his sword and nearly slashing through a bright-eyed Luke Castellan on his way.

“Oh, god. What have you done now?” You asked, hands on your hips.

He held his hands up in surrender, “Nothing, nothing. I’m all good. Just had some free time and thought I’d come see my favourite Apollo kid.”

“You know you’re allowed in here unless you're injured or visiting someone, right?” You reminded gently, hiding your bright smile behind an exasperated expression.

“Actually, I’m both of those things.”

“Really?”

“Yep. I’m visiting you, and my heart is awfully wounded by how cruelly you treat me.” He smirked, and you rolled your eyes, walking back to the drawer you had been organising before the arrival of your most boisterous patient.

“Does that mean I can stay?” He asked, following you with swift strides.

“I can’t exactly stop you, can I?”

He chuckled quietly, giving you shoulder a quick squeeze before looking down at the drawer full of bandages you were sorting through.

“D’you want some help?”

You shrugged noncommittally and he immediately knelt down beside you and began rolling several bandages up and sorting them into their proper sections, humming happily under his breath the whole time.

And that’s how the pair of you continued for the rest of the afternoon. If you needed something of a high shelf, Luke was reaching up to grab it for you. If you wanted a specific item or tool, he was already beside you, holding it out as if he had read your mind.

And the only reward he wanted for his hard work was to see your face melt into a smile when the pair of you locked eyes. And of course the lollipop you offered him at the end of the day for being so helpful.

V: He always saves you a seat a campfire

Luke was well aware that, as an Apollo kid, you loved the campfire. Despite the fact that you weren’t as musically talented as your siblings, it always brought a smile to your face to see them perform. He loved watching as you clapped along in earnest, cheering loudly when the song finished and loudly demanding another.

So, he always saved you a seat (right beside him, of course).

But, on this particular night, he’d caught wind of the fact some Demeter boy had been sniffing around, saying that he was going to ask you to sit next to him, instead of Luke.

“Aw, is Lukey boy getting jealous?” Chris jeered, following Luke’s gaze as it landed on you, conversing with the boy from Demeter.

“No. Not like she’ll sit with him anyway.” He proclaimed, his voice filled with a certainty he did not feel.

“You sure?” Chris asked, watching as you laughed brightly at whatever joke the boy was making.

“Oh, I’m so sure. Certain, even. So certain.” Luke said, drumming his fingers on the wood of the table, while trying to reassure himself.

This evening, you got to the campfire before him, and as he began to walk towards where you were sitting, he caught a glimpse of that boy making a beeline to you from the other direction.

He quickened his pace, only slowing slightly to revel in the way your face broke into sunshine when you caught sight of him.

Unfortunately, that momentary lapse in concentration was nearly his undoing, as only mere moments later, your attention was arrested by the boy from Demeter who appeared to have magically materialised right in front of you.

He sped up until it felt like he was running, sliding into the seat next to you right as the Demeter boy made his move.

“...do you mind if I sit-”

“Sorry man. Seat’s taken.” Luke smirked, wrapping an arm around your shoulder.

“Oh, uh, sorry. Didn’t realise it was like that.” The boy looked between the two of you, the expression on his face torn between bitter and disappointed. He then made a quick exit, leaving you to try and digest the situation.

“Sorry I’m late.” He smiled, not moving the hand from where it sat on your upper arm.

“No problem,” You said, a look of bemusement on your face, “Gonna tell me what that was all about?”

“Um-”

“And why are you so out of breath? And-”

He was saved from further questioning by your siblings starting the first song of the night.

I: He always worried about you

“How much longer are we gonna have to walk?” Luke whined, although it was pretty obvious he wasn’t really annoyed by the bright smile on his face.

“Not that much farther!” You called back, practically skipping ahead as you neared the edge of the strawberry fields.

“Good. I feel like my feet are gonna fall off. Y’know how to fix fallen-off-feet, Doc?”

“Are you doubting my skills, Castellan?” You gasped, spinning around to face him, your hands planted firmly on your hips.

“Hmm, maybe?” He mused, smiling wider as you skipped back to him.

“Well, don’t. Or I’ll hit you over the head with the picnic basket.” You responded, before linking your arm with his, and leading him to a small spot that was free of the strawberry plants.

“Happy now?”

He sighed, placing the basket down gently before slumping to the floor, “Overjoyed.”

He stayed like that for a minute, watching out of the corner of his eye as you spread the blanket across the dirt floor, smoothing it down gently and unpacking the various food items you had prepared.

Luke cracked a small grin as he watched, marvelling in the way you glowed in the sun. Everyday he thought you couldn't get more beautiful, and everyday he was proven wrong.

He sat up to tuck in to the picnic, admiring the way you rolled your eyes at him with fondness as you also moved to sit down.

“Finally decided to- OW!” You exclaimed, cutting off your own statement as you cried out in pain.

Luke was immediately by your side, asking what was wrong as you tentatively picked your hand up off the floor, shaking it side to side.

“Holy shit that hurts.” You murmured, looking down at the thorn that had lodged itself into your hand.

“You're gonna be ok, don’t worry, I’ll get it out for you.” He reassured, although he seemed much more worried than you.

“Luke,” You laughed, “I’m all good. Camp’s best doctor, remember?” You reminded, before reaching into your palm and pulling the thorn out in one fell swoop.

As soon as it was out, he was grabbing your palm, cradling it in his hand and inspecting the tiny wound carefully.

“You're sure you’re ok? We can-”

“I’m perfectly fine. Why are you so stressed about this?” You asked, confused. He had always been protective, but not usually to such an extreme.

“Oh, uh, I dunno, just don’t want you to get hurt.” He muttered, still running his fingers along the palm of your hand.

“So I can’t have a thorn in my hand, but you're allowed to wander into the infirmary with massive gashes up your side?”

He chuckled, his voice low, “Yeah. I guess that’s right.”

“You’re impossible, Castellan.” You whispered, and when your eyes met once again, you felt a shift in the air.

Suddenly all the events throughout your friendship made perfect sense, and it was like you had finally found the missing piece to a seemingly impossible puzzle.

Luke had clearly seen the realisation in your eyes, as he raised his free hand to cup your cheek, your face warming slightly under his touch.

"Please tell me I'm not reading too much into all of this." You sighed.

"You're not. I don't know how you didn't realise." Luke chuckled, "May I?" He asked, and you nodded, both of you moving forward to meet the other’s lips.

And you couldn’t help but wonder, how you hadn’t realised sooner.

#luke castellan x reader #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo #luke castellan #x reader #fluff #ask #writing #fanfic #5+1 things #5 + 1 fic #cuteeee

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celiastjamesoscar · 9 months

Text

Wildest Dreams

Pairings: Sam Carpenter x fem!reader

Summary: you are helplessly head over heels for Sam, even though she despises you. But your relationship with her changes when you get in a lightly physical altercation with her.

Warnings: light sweating, reader accidentally walks in on Sam changing, small violence

My Masterlist

AN: if you have the time, I highly recommend reading ‘The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo’ and watching ‘Carol’ <3

Word count: 6.3K

For the first time in what seemed a millennium, you finally had the house to yourself. Anika was out with Mindy for a date, and your other roommate, Luke, was doing god knows what, probably out fornicating with one of his many boyfriends, but you didn’t care. You only cared about relaxing on the couch and rewatching your comfort show, Game of Thrones.

You grabbed your phone and a bowl of popcorn and went to the couch. You curled up with the blanket hanging over the back of the sofa as you turned on your show.

Tarantula: you up? ;)

The ‘ding’ from the text pulled you away from the tv, and you smiled when you read the text from your best friend, Tara. The two of you had met on campus in the library and instantly became friends. You two bonded over your love for books and shared a passion for horror movies, even though your opinions drastically differ.

Sam lover: maybe, it depends on who’s asking

Tarantula: you’re best friend in the entire world?? Who else?

Sam lover: mhmmm, okay. What are we doing?

Tarantula: movie night, obviously

Sam lover: sure, I’ll be over in ten

Tarantula: just a heads up, you’ll have to come in through my window

You raised your eyebrows at Tara’s message, ‘Why would I have to do that? I’ve been over before,’ you thought to yourself.

Sam lover: why?

Tarantula: because Sam is watching a movie in the living room, and we are hanging out in my room

Sam lover: fuck, okay. why does she still hate me?

Tarantula: I don’t know, but don’t make any noise when you come over. Sam can’t know and don’t try and hit on her if you see her

To say that you and Sam were acquaintances would be an understatement; Sam despised you, while the woman completely enchanted you. Sam was so tall and handsome as hell. She’s bad for you, but she does it so well; you could see the end as it begins. You admired her strength, both physically and mentally, and you loved the way she cared so much about her sister. And that was also your downfall; Sam believed that you were no good for Tara, as every time Tara did something stupid, you were always at the scene of the crime. Of course, Sam didn’t know that you were always there because you tried your best to stop Tara out of respect for Sam (and a shitty attempt at winning her heart), but she never listened when you tried to explain yourself.

You scoffed at your best friend’s words. She knew of your infatuation with Sam and loved to tease you about it. At first, however, she thought it was a bit weird as you were her best friend and thought you were using her to get close to Sam, but after she saw you turn down an invite to go with Sam and Mindy to the movies just to stay at home and play Mario Kart with her, she knew that you were the real deal.

Tara found it a bit sad, though, because every time you would talk to Sam, you would either get silence, a death stare, or a one-word reply, but she would rather die than tell you that she felt pity for your shitty attempts to talk to her sister.

Sam lover: I will not be held responsible for my actions when I am around a beautiful woman with big brown eyes

Tarantula: yeah, yeah, whatever. just get over here soon and climb in through my window; I’ll leave it open

Sam lover: sounds good. I’m omw

With that, you shut your phone off, grabbed your backpack and put a spare change of clothes along with a cable to charge your phone in it, and went towards Tara’s apartment. You enjoyed walking by yourself as it allowed you to be with your thoughts, and you couldn’t help it when you started to think of Sam. The gravitational pull you felt towards the older woman was something you couldn’t explain even if you had to; you just knew that you couldn’t deny the attraction you felt. You longed to get lost in those dark eyes and don’t even get started on those muscular arms; to you, Sam was perfect, and you would count all the stars in the sky if you could call her yours for a moment.

When you reached the street Tara lived on, you sent Tara a quick message asking her which side her window would be on, and she responded with ‘the one that’s close to creepy ass alley,’ which was all of New York in your eyes.

Sam lover: that’s all of NY, Tarantula

Tarantula: It’s across from the McDonald’s, five stories up. And stop calling me ‘Tarantula.’ It’s offensive.

You laughed at your friend’s reply before sending back a quick ‘huh uh.’ You walked around the apartment until you saw the McDonald’s and then the creepy ass alleyway and looked up five stories. And true to her word, Tara had her window open for you. You climbed onto the fire escape and slowly made your way to Tara’s window before sending her a quick text telling her you were here, only you didn’t see the message she sent back telling you you weren’t at her window.

When you pushed Tara’s window the rest of the way and climbed halfway in, you nearly died; Sam was standing in a towel with her back facing you as she grabbed some clothes from her dresser. When she dropped her towel, your heart exploded, and it felt like you were in your wildest dream. You admired her perfect curves, and then the leg that you had in Sam’s room gave out, causing you to fall into Sam’s room with a loud thud.

Sam turned around with a shocked expression before she quickly turned back to her dresser and grabbed a knife. You could not seem to pry your eyes away from Sam’s chest, and you swore you could feel drool fall down your chin. You were too busy trying to engrave Sam’s naked figure into your brain that you didn’t feel the blade fly into your left thigh.

“Sam, I am so sorry,” you said as you tried to stand up on your legs, but one gave out and screamed in pain. The only thing on your mind was Sam’s breasts that you swore looked like the softest pillows ever.

“What the fuck is going-Oh my god! What happened to your leg?” Tara exclaimed after bursting into the room, disregarding her sister, who finally covered herself with a towel. At the mention of something wrong with your leg, you finally felt the sharp pain shoot through your entire leg as you stared at the blade in your thigh.

“You’re weird friend just broke into my room and stared at me while I was changing!” Sam stated as she grabbed her clothes and stormed off to the bathroom, clearly not caring about your wound. Tara quickly ran to your side and knelt beside you, “I am so sorry about this, Y/N. I didn’t know that she also had her window open.”

You shrugged off Tara’s comment as you tried to move, but the pain was too much. You watched as your crimson-red blood steeped onto the room’s flooring and stained your clothing. “Come on, we have to get you to a hospital,” Tara stated, pulling you up to the floor and leaning your weight onto her. By the time Tara had entered the living room and to the door, Sam was dressed and had her phone and keys in hand. “I’ll take you to the hospital; let’s go,” Sam stated as she moved Tara off you and took her place. It was pitiful how your face heated up when you felt Sam pull your left arm over her shoulders and hold it while her right arm was wrapped around your waist, allowing you to lean your weight onto her.

When you reached Sam’s car, Tara opened up the back row door and helped Sam lay you down on the seats before she got into the passenger door. “Do not die in my car, Y/N. I don’t need you to haunt my car,” Sam dryly stated as she closed the door and got in the driver’s side. You don’t remember much of the car ride to the hospital; the only thing on your mind was seeing Sam naked, and no matter how hard you tried, you would never be about to erase that beautiful image from your mind.

One moment you were daydreaming about the beautiful goddess that had just stabbed you, and then the next, you were in a hospital bed with stitches in your thigh. For the life of you, you couldn’t recall what had happened, just that you saw Sam naked, and then she stabbed you. You saw yourself, in hindsight, tangled up with her all night in your wildest dreams. Someday when your mind leaves you, you bet that the memory of Sam will follow you around.

“Oh, thank god, I thought I was going to have to murder Sam,” Tara said as she moved from the chair in the corner of the room and approached your bed. She sat on the edge of the bed and gently grabbed your hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “What happened? The last thing I remember was being in the back of Sam’s car,” you recalled as you looked around the room and saw Sam, who was standing creepily in the doorway with her arms crossed.

“You passed out on the drive here. You should have seen Sam, though; she was terrified you had actually died,” Tara said with a small laugh as she remembered her sister’s frantic attempts to make sure you were still alive, and she also wanted to let you know that Sam slightly cared about you.

Sam scoffed at her sister’s words as she uncrossed her arms and walked toward you. “I was worried you were going to ruin my seats and then haunt my car,” Sam stated coldly, but her eyes betrayed her icy stature. You could see the way her eyes darted across your body, subtly checking to see if you were actually okay, and how she had her hands shoved into the pockets on her bomber jacket, slightly ashamed that she had hurt you.

Within the first encounters you had with Sam, you noticed how she always hid her hands when she was ashamed of something, and right now, all you wanted to do was reach out and comfort the woman. “Eh, I’m fine,” you shrugged briefly.

You talked to Tara while Sam stood around the room, looking out of place as she watched you with her sister. When the doctor came in, she gave you painkillers and told you could leave in the morning. “Could one of us stay here with her?” Sam asked the doctor worriedly when she was close to the door. “The hospital rules say we can’t allow non-family members to stay overnight, but I’ll let you stay with your girlfriend,” the doctor replied with a smile as she looked between you and Sam, clearly reading into some tension in the air.

Sam didn’t even have time to deny the doctor’s words before she left the room and shut the door, so Sam turned around with a scoff and was met with your drugged-out smile and Tara’s knowing one. “Well, Sammy, I will leave you here with your ‘girlfriend,’” Tara joked as she stood from the bed and grabbed her things.

“No. Tara, there is no way you are leaving here this late at night,” Sam replied as she followed her sister to the doorway. “Well, I’m certainly not staying here; I hate hospitals. And besides, Mindy is here to pick me up,” Tara replied with a smile.

She hated to admit it, but Sam was at a crossroads. She didn’t want Tara to stay here after the last time her sister was left alone in a hospital, and she also didn’t want you to stay here alone. She worried about you for Tara’s sake and definitely not because she felt terrible for being the reason you were here.

With a defeated sigh, Sam nodded and spoke, “Alright. Just let me walk you out.”

You watched the two sisters open the door and smiled when Sam stopped and looked back at you, “Don’t do anything stupid until I get back.”

“Okay, girlfriend,” you replied with a dopey smile, clearly enjoying the effects of the painkillers.

When Sam returned, she said nothing as she brought two chairs together and made herself an awkward bed. “You know, you can join me,” you suggested as you scooted over to the side, allowing Sam some room if she chose to sleep with you.

“Yeah, that’s not happening,” Sam replied as she got out a blanket and a pillow from the wardrobe and got comfortable on the chairs.

“Why not? I’ve already seen you naked.”

Sam rolled her eyes and laid her head on the pillow, and covered up with the blanket, “Do not mention that ever again.”

“Okay. I want to let you know you have a beautiful body, Sam. Your boobs are perfect! I mean, my god, the things I would do-”

“Please stop talking,” Sam interrupted you as she tried her best to fight off the fluttering feeling in her stomach at your words. She knew the painkillers were talking, but she couldn’t help but believe there was some truth to your comments. “Goodnight, Y/N,” Sam said after a few awkward moments of silence.

“Goodnight, girlfriend,” you teased as you got as comfortable as you could you a hospital bed before sleep consumed you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the morning, you were discharged from the hospital but had to walk around with crutches for a while. And to put it short, you hated it. Yes, having to walk around with them constantly clanking every time you walked got annoying, and how your armpits ached at the end of each day. But the worst part was that you couldn’t impress Sam with them.

Naturally, you were angry at Sam for throwing a knife in your leg, but you also shouldn’t have been staring at her while she was changing.

“Who even changes with their window open anyways?” Mindy asked one night while over at Tara’s apartment for dinner. You and Mindy had been invited over for a girl dinner with the Carpenters as you four sat around the dining table. The table had a dish of lasagna along with a salad bowl prepared, and you could not wait to eat the delicious food Sam had prepared.

“My room was hot, and I was letting in fresh air; I didn’t think someone would try and break in,” Sam stated as she made herself a bowl of salad with her lasagna.

“I did not break in. Tara invited me over and told me to go through her open window,” you said once you finished a bite of your food, “so technically, it’s her fault.”

Tara scoffed at your words while throwing a crouton at you, earning herself a scolding look from Sam. “Do not try and blame this on me; I texted you and told you that wasn’t my room, but you didn’t see it,” Tara replied.

“Why did you even tell her to climb through your window?” Sam asked with a puzzled look.

“Because, Sam, you would have told her to leave or probably stabbed her, but you already did that,” Tara dryly said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Sam rolled her eyes at her sister's statement before focusing on her food.

“I was lightly stabbed, so it’s not that big of a deal,” you said.

“You were still stabbed, Y/N,” Tara replied annoyedly. She knew that you were weirdly happy about Sam stabbing you, but she tried her best to ignore it.

“Lightly stabbed.”

Mindy chuckled while looking at you, “Whatever. I still can’t believe she threw a knife at you; me personally, I would not let that slide.”

“It’s whatever; I didn’t even notice it until Tara came barging into the room,” you said while looking at Sam, who picked her food with her fork and refused to meet your gaze.

Mindy just laughed at your response before returning her attention to her food. The rest of dinner was filled with laughs and idle conversations, but you couldn’t help but notice how Sam didn’t participate in any of the conversations. You had tried to get her engaged, but she would either respond with a nod, a laugh, or a single word.

Sam felt bad for reacting the way she did, and she wanted to apologize to you, but she didn’t know how without bringing up the fact you slightly deserved it. So, when dinner was finished, and the rest of the group moved into the living room to watch a movie, Sam pulled you aside.

“What’s up?” You asked with a smile as you leaned on a crutch. It had been a couple of weeks since you were discharged from the hospital, so now you only walked around with one crutch.

That smile you gave her, Sam couldn’t find the correct words to describe it. It was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen, and she wanted to kiss it off your lips. “Just so you know, you’re insufferable and intolerable. And I hate you.”

“Oh, okay,” you said with that same smile, fully knowing Sam was lying. Sam, on the other hand, desperately needed to get away from you, or she might do something she would regret. “Is there anything else you need?” You asked.

With a sigh, Sam asked, “Yes, actually. What are some books I could read? I’ve been trying to get into reading because of Tara, and I wanted to discuss them with her, and I need to have a few books under my belt before I do that.”

Your smile grew ten times bigger at Sam’s question, and the older woman wanted to murder you for it. “I have been waiting for ages for you to ask me that. I actually have a copy of my favorite book with me if you want to give it a try?” You asked as you made your way over to your backpack.

Sam followed behind you and watched as you moved around your sleeping clothes and pulled out a weathered book. It had different colored sticky notes hanging from the pages, and the edges around the book looked like they had their share of bumps and drops.

Sam grabbed the book and read the cover with a scoff. “Look, Y/N; I’m not reading a book about a woman who had seven different husbands. That’s just absurd,” the Latina said with a dry tone.

“No,” you replied as you placed your hand on Sam’s wrist, holding the book, “trust me, Sam. Just try it; it’s not what you think it is.”

“Alright, fine. If this book is better than it sounds,” Sam said as she looked around the room with a huff, “I guess I’ll treat you with respect or something.”

Sam didn’t even have time to react before she felt the hand on her wrist pull away and pinch her cheek. “I know you’ll love it,” you said with a cheeky grin as Sam slapped your hand away from her face. “Do not ever do that again,” she warned as she pointed a finger in your face.

“Yes, ma’am,” you responded with a salute before walking back toward the living room, “is there anything else you need?”

‘I want to take you on a date and then put your head on a stick,’ Sam wanted to say but said, “I’ll let you know what I think of it.”

You gave Sam a soft smile as you returned to the living room. Sam didn’t know what she was feeling toward you, but she eventually sauntered off to her room after realizing she cared about you more than friends do.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Come on, Tara; The Babadook is easily one of the worst horror movies ever made!” You exclaimed with your hands as you stared down at the more petite girl. You had finally gotten your stitches out and were no longer walking around with a crutch, so that meant a celebration night over at the Carpenter’s apartment.

“No, it’s not! You just hate it so much because it scares you!” Tara retorted as she hit the leg closest to her, which happened to be the one Sam lightly stabbed.

You moved your legs up onto the loveseat you were sitting on after she hit you, “Yeah, and also because it scares me so much! And don’t hit me, you little shit.” Tara scoffed at your words and stood up and grabbed one of her shoes, and was getting ready to launch it at you when the door to the apartment opened. She quickly dropped the shoe and stood facing the door with her hands clasped behind her back and an innocent smile, as if she wasn’t just getting ready to throw a shoe as hard as she could at your face. “What’s going on?” Sam asked when she saw Tara standing with a creepy smile and your shocked expression.

“Tara was-”

“I was getting up to order some pizza!” Tara interrupted you and sent you a death glare when Sam turned her back to hang up her purse. Sam turned around and looked between you two and ignored the shoe she saw by Tara’s feet; whatever her sister was getting ready to do to you, you probably deserved it.

“Okay,” Sam replied as she exaggerated the word before walking to her room, but not before sending you a glare. “Nice to see you, Sam!” you said with a smile while Sam huffed before slamming her door. “You are such a charmer,” Tara joked as she shoved your legs off the couch so she could sit next to you.

You scoffed at Tara’s words while you reached for the remote and pushed Tara off you when she tried to take it from you. “No! Down girl, down!” You said when you finally pushed Tara off of you. She scoffed as you turned on the tv before leaning back on the couch and putting her feet in your lap. You pulled her feet more into your lap and let your hand rest on her leg while you looked for something to watch. Naturally, Tara made it hard for you to pick something out because she refused to watch anything you wanted to spite you, but eventually, you settled on watching ‘Carol.’ You loved this movie more than anything, even though you cried every time you watched it.

For some unknown reason, Tara pulled her feet from your lap and left the couch roughly ten minutes into the movie. “I’ll be right back,” she said as she walked toward her room with her phone in hand. “Do you want me to pause it for you?” You asked as you reached for the remote but stopped when Tara told you not to wait up on her. You missed the devilish smirk she wore on her lips as she disappeared into her room.

You continued to watch the movie by yourself when you heard a door open up. “Finally! I was starting to think that you were leaving me here to hang out with Sam,” you said with a smile as you paused the movie and finally turned around to face Tara, but your smile faded once you saw Sam. “Oh, I’m sorry; I thought you were Tara,” you said with an embarrassed tone as your eyes refused to meet Sam’s piercing gaze.

The older woman huffed at your words before she went to the couch and sat at the opposite end while unlocking her phone, trying to keep as much space as possible between you two. “Tara texted me and told me that she felt sick and she didn’t want you to leave because it’s late at night and doesn’t want anything to happen to you, so she wants me to keep you company,” Sam read aloud her text messages between her and Tara before she closed her phone and set it on the coffee table in front of you guys.

“You don’t have to; I’m fine staying in here by myself,” you said with a polite smile while looking at Sam. The woman turned her head and looked at you before giving you the fakest smile you have ever seen while she lied through her teeth, “That’s alright, I’m good to stay in here with you.” The tension was so thick you could practically taste it on your tongue, but you held your breath and muttered a quiet ‘okay’ as you restarted the movie.

It’s not that she hated being around you after the incident; the only thing she wanted to do was kiss you and call you hers, but she was afraid you wouldn’t feel the same. Especially after she lightly stabbed you.

“Wait, why are you restarting it?” Sam questioned as she looked between you and the tv.

“Because you missed the opening scene, which is arguably one of the best scenes in the movie, and you also need to watch it to understand the ending better,” you reasoned with an honest smile while your gentle eyes danced across Sam’s face.

She didn’t know why, but after listening to your explanation of why the opening scene was essential and listening to your voice that was full of only love and admiration for this movie, Sam decided that she would actually pay attention to it, rather than send you hateful glances every once in a while.

So when the tv finally stopped the introduction, and it was Carol and Therese sitting together at a dinner table in a fancy restaurant, Sam picked up on the tension-riddled scene and couldn’t help but glance over at you. She noticed how your eyebrows furrowed, and your eyes danced between Carol and Therese as if you were getting ready to jump through the tv and become a part of the movie. Her eyes finally drifted down to your lips, and she noticed how your tongue was barely sticking out between your lips as you studied the screen, as if there was going to be something small in the background, and if you blinked, you would miss it.

“Are you even watching?” You questioned when you felt eyes burning into the side of your skull, but your own eyes never left the screen.

Sam awkwardly cleared her throat before speaking, “Sorry; you just seem really invested in this movie, and I thought it was funny.” You felt heat creep up the back of your neck at Sam’s words but shook it off as her being cautious of you. “It’s a great film, Sam. I think you’ll like it,” you replied with a gentle smile as you pried your eyes away from the screen to look at Sam before returning your attention to the tv.

When you said that she might like it, Sam took her eyes away from you and actually paid attention to the movie. When the sex scene came up, the air in the room became tense, as if both of you were holding your breath and holding back from one another. Sam tried her best to fight back the blush she felt, and she looked to you for help. You had your mouth agape, no matter how often you watched this scene, you were always enchanted by it, and you whispered, “I wish that were me.” Even though she tried to, Sam couldn’t come up with a retort for your comment; she also wishes she could do that with Cate Blanchett, but she also wishes that was her with you.

Sam then turned her attention back to the screen and had to fight any urges that she might have been feeling toward you. Her eyes never left the screen until the very end; only when she had to blink back the eyes that threatened to escape as she looked up at the ceiling. When the end credits rolled, you cleared your throat, tension still left over from the sex scene, “So, what did you think of it?”

“It was certainly something. It was a lot better than I expected, just based on your taste in things,” Sam joked as she subtly wiped the tears away in her eyes. You chuckled at her words, ‘if you only you knew,’ you thought as she stared at her with hearty eyes.

You quickly snapped out of your daze when you noticed Sam shuffling uncomfortably on the couch, “Well, I’m glad you enjoyed it. And just so you know,” you said as you stood up from the couch, “I have an exceptional taste in things.”

Sam laughed at your words before standing up, “I highly doubt that.” You smiled at the older woman before making your way to Tara’s room; you had plans to murder the little shit for leaving you alone with Sam. “Goodnight, Sam,” you said with a smile as you opened Tara’s door slightly. Sam gave you a genuine smile as she went to her room, “Goodnight, Y/N.”

This was the first time you had had a direct conversation with Sam since she pulled you aside and asked for a book recommendation, and you wished you could have more conversations with the woman. She was smarter than she gave herself credit for, and the way she expressed herself through body language while talking was something you found attractive, to put it lightly.

When you entered Tara’s room, you saw the girl lying toward the foot of her bed with her laptop open, and you could faintly hear Toni Collette giving her ‘I am your mother’ speech. “So, how did it go with Samantha?” Tara questioned with a smug grin as you sat on the bed with your back propped against the headboard. You threw your legs up onto the bed and dug the heel of your right foot into Tara’s back, causing the girl to let out a small yelp before shoving your leg off of her and scolding you.

“Whatever, you deserved it,” you said as you crossed your ankles and left them next to Tara, who was still facing the foot of the bed. “And for your information, it was fine. She didn’t try and kill me again,” you joked.

“A win is a win,” Tara replied as she moved to sit next to you and put the laptop on your lap while she cuddled up next to you. You put your arm around her waist and placed a platonic kiss on her head right when Sam walked in.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I can come back later,” Sam said as she looked down at the floor and turned her back to you two, embarrassed that she had just walked in on an intimate moment between you and her sister and ignored the pain she felt in her heart. “No, it’s okay, Sam,” Tara said while pulling away from you and silently encouraging you to go after Sam even though she was still in the doorway.

“I thought you were sick?” Sam asked with her back still facing you two. “Yeah, I can’t explain that one without unveiling my grand scheme of things plan,” Tara said while getting up from her bed and turning Sam to face her, “I’m serious, Sam. Nothing is going on between me and Y/N.”

Sam looked away from her sister and saw you sitting on Tara’s bed, smiling as you sent her a small wave. The woman scoffed at your actions before returning to her room.

Once Sam was gone, Tara closed the door, walked over to you, and hit you in the stomach. “The fuck was that, Y/N?” She whisper-shouted at you, “I basically admitted to having a plan of forcing you and Sam together, and you fucking wave at her?”

“I didn’t know what you wanted me to do!” You defended.

Tara sighed at your statement; she had laid the groundwork, and then just like clockwork, the dominos were supposed to cascade in a line because she’s a mastermind, but your dumbass messed it up. “Go talk to Sam. Right. Now. Or so help me God, I will violently murder you to death,” Tara commanded as she pulled you from her bed and pushed you toward the door. “And do not come back until you have talked to her,” and with that, Tara shut the door in your face and locked it.

You sighed before walking toward the living room. You thought about sleeping on the couch, but you knew Tara would probably draw a penis on your face while you slept, so you sucked in a deep breath before walking toward Sam’s door.

Sam heard a gentle knock of three intervals at her door, pulling her away from her note. “Just a minute,” she said as she finished her writing and slipped it into a preselected page in the book.

“What’s up?” She asked once when she opened her door and saw you.

“I just wanted to ask you about the book,” you replied with a smile that Sam wanted to kiss off your lips.

Instead of doing what she desired, she left her door open while grabbing the book and handed it back to you. “This is the saddest book I have ever read. Who would come up with such a thing?”

You chuckled at her words and accepted the book, “I know. I take it; you finished it?”

“Barely. But I finished it in one sitting,” Sam said while staring into your love-struck eyes. Sam swore she could feel herself getting lost in them, and she never wanted to leave your eyes.

“So, what did you think of it?” You asked.

“It was alright. Some pages were hard to read because of the tear-stained pages.”

You lightly laughed at Sam’s words, and the older woman felt her heart might explode if she heard that soft laugh again. “Yeah, I’m sorry about that. This book really gets to me, you know?” You said while your eyes quickly glanced down at Sam’s lips, wondering if they tasted as good as they looked.

Sam cleared her throat, and you knew you had been busted. “So, I guess I’ll have to treat you with respect now,” she admitted through a tightened jaw.

“Or whatever,” you said with a smile, hoping Sam picked up the double meaning, and she did.

“Yeah, or whatever.”

“Just so you know, nothing is going on between me and Tara,” you clarified after a few seconds, and you set the book down on the couch behind you.

Sam knew that there wasn’t anything between you and her sister, but hearing those words leave your lips gave Sam a feeling of comfort she didn’t know she needed. “I know, Y/N.”

“Okay. I just wanted to clarify that before I did this,” Sam didn’t even have time to react before she felt your hands grip her neck and pull her into a passionate kiss. The way your lips felt like they had been made for her lips amazed Sam, and she finally felt her heart explode when she matched your intensity.

Your lips danced together as Sam deepened the kiss and pulled you by your waist closer to her. You felt her tongue push past your lips, and an involuntary moan slipped out, causing Sam to laugh against your lips. When you felt Sam’s hands drift toward the bottom of your shirt, you lifted your arms, and Sam got halfway into taking it off before you two heard a voice behind you, “Goddamnit, Y/N! I told you to apologize, not swap spit with her!”

You pulled away from Sam and turned to face Tara, who smiled knowingly. “Sorry,” you mumbled while fixing your shirt.

An awkward beat of silence passed while Tara looked between you and her sister with a sly smirk on her lips before she finally said, “I’ll leave you two to it,” and walked away.

“I’m sorry about that,” Sam said once Tara was gone. You turned to look at Sam, and you smiled at her swollen lips and blown pupils. You said nothing as you placed a final kiss on Sam’s lips that the older woman happily reciprocated.

“I should probably leave,” you mumbled against Sam’s lips, and she kissed you once more before pulling away. “Don’t forget your book,” Sam said while grabbing it for you.

“Thank you,” you replied with a tint of blush on your cheeks. Sam walked you to the door with her hand on the lower of your back, and you only wanted to run back into her room and throw Sam on her bed, but you doubted Tara would appreciate that.

When you reached the door, you placed a chaste kiss on Sam’s lips before opening up the door. “I’ll see you around?” You asked, afraid that this was a one-time thing.

Sam leaned against the doorframe, and she couldn’t contain the smile that pulled at her cheeks. “Of course, Y/N.”

You smiled at her and began walking down the hallway when Sam called out, “It's me and you, true blue.”

You placed a kiss on your pointer and middle finger before holding them toward Sam with a smile on your face. The woman laughed at your action and pretended to catch the fake kiss and her fist to her heart.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

At home, you fall onto your couch and struggled to get your shoes off. Once they were off, you relaxed and pulled out the book and started reading it. When you ran your fingers over the pages, a small note fell out from the middle of the book and you moved to that page.

In the center of the page was a headline from Sub Rosa titled, ‘Evelyn Hugo and Celia St. James Slumber Parties,’ and you couldn’t help but laugh at the page.

When you opened up the note, written in the most beautiful penmanship said,

‘Want to go grab a milkshake with me sometime? I doubt we’ll find a place as good as Schwab’s, but we can try. We can also have ‘slumber parties’ of our own when Tara is away. ;)

All my love,

Samantha

Sam’

#sam carpenter #scream #melissa barrera #sam carpenter x reader #tara carpenter #sam carpenter x y/n #sam carpenter x female reader

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karajaynetoday · 2 months

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nothing's going right, and everything's a mess, and no one likes to be alone | jack hughes

author's note: don't ask me how the university semester timeline in this works. i have simply given reader a three week break in march bc why not. this is fanfiction okay, anything can happen 😂 no one proofread this for me so soz for any typos!

word count: 3.4k words

warnings: none that i can think of? but lmk if i've missed anything. soz if the ending makes you mad LOL i do love a cliffhanger

read part one here

read part two here

(This is a fem reader insert)

More writing here (soz that the masterlist is not up to date lol) | send thoughts/feedback/suggestions here

Somehow, the ill feeling of waiting until summer to see Jack again began to fade with each passing day. The itch to text him every time something exciting or infuriating happened to you began to lessen. The thoughts of him when you saw a funny meme he’d like, or your shared favourite foods on special at the grocery store, quietly stopped happening as frequently.

But then there were the things that didn’t stop. The sharp pain in your chest whenever Jack’s smiling face popped up on your social media feed. The butterflies in your stomach whenever your parents brought him up in conversation, fuelled by whatever the latest updates were from their group message thread with Jim and Ellen. The joy that would wash over you when you heard about a Devils win or a Jack Hughes goal, followed almost always by a wave of sadness that you were hearing about it second or third hand, rather than from Jack himself.

You were the one who’d asked for space. You needed time, you’d said. Given the blow up of All-Star weekend, all Jack was doing was respecting your wishes; but a huge part of you not so secretly wished he’d be a bit more disrespectful and reach out. Your mind was a mess of conflicting thoughts, and your heart wasn’t sure which emotion to feel or where to go next.

Since kindergarten, you’d barely gone more than a few days without seeing or communicating with Jack in some way. Now you were nearly a month without a word, and even though you were still mad at how he’d treated you, you were craving a return to the friendship you’d become so accustomed to. Jack knew you better than anyone, could basically read your mind with a single look, and although you had plenty of friends at college and still around in Toronto from high school, none came close to the camaraderie you shared with Jack. He was someone you could talk to for hours, or sit next to in silence for the same amount of time, it didn’t matter. With Jack, you could be utterly and entirely yourself, no complications. Now it felt like you were always pretending. And it was exhausting.

It was about 9pm on a Thursday night when you found yourself pushing through that exhaustion to try and complete yet another university assignment. For motherfucking economics. You couldn’t wait until you’d completed all of your compulsory economics credits because it was the absolute opposite of your cup of tea, when it came to academic subjects. This assignment was your last one, and you weren’t sure whether to cheer or cry at the idea of hitting the submit button on the online portal. Maybe you should’ve bought a confetti cannon to celebrate. Or a box of wine. Or booked yourself a flight somewhere fun, given you had a break from classes soon.

As soon as the thought of a trip crossed your mind, your phone began to buzz with an incoming video call. A video call from… Luke. Luke Hughes.

Your face scrunched in confusion, as you swiped to answer the call, met with Luke’s smiling face and messy curls.

“Hey sunshine! Long time no see. How have you been?” Luke spoke cheerily. Almost too cheerily.

You were immediately suspicious and narrowed your eyes at the youngest Hughes.

Luke was 3 years old when you met for the first time; he could barely remember a life without you in it. Given how inseparable you and Jack were, Luke became your de facto little brother, always tagging along where he could and joining in your adventures. Later on, when he became a teenager, you were the one Luke would come to when he was having issues with his friends, or trying to build up the courage to ask out the cute girl in his math class, or missing his brothers when they moved away. You were his second call after Ellen when he felt homesick at Michigan, and you were his first call when he had fucked up something that he felt his brothers would never let him live down. Emotional support and damage control, with a healthy dose of teasing and laughs thrown in. That was the dynamic between you and Luke. It also meant you could read him to filth when he was lying to you, and your honesty radar was through the roof at this sudden video call.

“I’m fine, Moose. Just trying to wrap up my final assignment before the break without losing my entire mind.” You offered weakly, half-expecting Luke to make a joke about your mind having been lost years ago, but the joke never came.

Instead, you saw the concern flicker across Luke’s face, just for a moment, before he forced a smile.

“How long is your break for? Any plans?”

“Three weeks, and not really. I promised my mother I’d spend a few days helping her with planning for their anniversary party in June, but that probably won’t happen until right before I go back to school.” You chatted absently, hitting save on your essay and standing up from the couch, bringing your phone with you as you moved into the kitchen to make yourself a drink.

You propped the phone up against the vase on your kitchen bench, reaching up into the cabinet to retrieve a glass.

“Well, you should come visit. We’ve got like 5 home games in a row or something ridiculous coming up. It’d be fun!” Luke’s tone was cheerful, but cautious, like he wasn’t sure how you were going to react.

You hummed in response, moving slightly out of view of your phone to get some ice cubes from your freezer and a soda from the fridge.

“Besides, I heard a rumour that you’ve got an airline voucher to use. I’d hate for it to expire or something.”

You could feel your heart starting to beat faster. Luke knew about the voucher. Did that mean Jack had told him about your fight?

“The voucher won’t expire for three years. I’m sure I’ll manage to use it before then.” You deadpanned, stepping back into frame to see Luke rolling his eyes at you.

“Yeah, sure, but will I survive that long without seeing you? Absolutely not. Come on, sugar. Please? Even if it’s just a weekend?” Luke had moved into full begging mode, with puppy dog eyes and everything.

You sighed, fidgeting with the straw in your drink and avoiding his gaze.

“I don’t… we haven’t talked at all, Luke. I don’t know what he’ll do if I just show up there.” You half-whispered, feeling that all-too-familiar wave of sadness coursing through your veins.

“He talked about you tonight at dinner. Says he misses you. But he doesn’t want to push, or not give you the space you wanted. But right now, he’s on the couch watching Gossip Girl, so…” Luke stated matter-of-factly, staring you down with a knowing look on your face.

Gossip Girl was something you’d insisted Jack get into when you were teenagers, as long as he “wanted to be called your official best friend”. And The OC. And Gilmore Girls. And One Tree Hill. And basically any other teen drama series you could think of. Collectively, those shows had thousands of episodes, and you always found yourself settling down to watch them whenever you were missing Jack more than usual. You’d never realised before that he did the same.

“Should… should we tell him I’m coming? I don’t want him to get upset by a bad surprise.”

“Not at all, sugar. Book the flight and send me the details, I’ll sort out the rest.” Luke’s beaming smile made a smile of your own creep onto your face, as you nodded at him and went to retrieve your laptop from the couch to log onto the airline website.

“Now that that’s sorted, I was wondering, what does it mean when a girl asks me what my sun, moon and rising are? Should I be worried? Or is it a good thing?”

–

Two days later, you were done with your semester and on your way to the airport. Luke had suggested you book a one-way flight, “That way, you can go home whenever you like!”, but you were starting to feel like the whole thing was a mistake.

Nonetheless, you pushed through those feelings and boarded your flight. The whole ordeal took less than two hours, and soon enough you found yourself navigating the arrivals area at Newark airport. You spotted Luke’s lanky figure, clad in a Michigan sweatshirt, with his back to you. You couldn’t help but creep up on him and poke his side, cracking up with laughter as Luke jumped at least three feet into the air. He’d always been the easiest to scare, ever since you were kids.

Luke cussed you out, and then pulled you into a bone-crushing hug.

“Missed your face, sugarplum.” Luke murmured, as you pulled away from each other and he rested his hands on your shoulders, studying you.

“Aw, Lukey. I’d say I’d missed yours too, but we really gotta do something about that hair.” You poked your tongue out as the youngest Hughes brother’s jaw dropped in mock offense.

You retrieved your bag from the luggage carousel, and headed out to where Luke had parked. The two of you fell into easy conversation as Luke navigated through the New Jersey streets back to the apartment he shared with Jack.

You managed to bury most of the nerves, but they came bubbling back to the surface when Luke pulled into the parking garage at the bottom of his building.

“Is… um… Is Jack home? Alone?” You managed to squeak out, and Luke looked at you like you were crazy.

Ever since All-Star weekend, you’d been having a recurring nightmare about Jack and the girl from the messages you’d accidentally become privy to. In particular, it was a scenario where you would come home from wherever you’d been out, and opened the apartment door to find them… entangled, on every possible surface you could think of. You felt yourself starting to feel ill as the images from your nightmares started to flash back into your mind.

“He’s alone. Ever since… ever since he came home early from All-Star, he’s been alone. None of the… usual visitors have been over. And he hasn’t been going to theirs, either. Not even when we’re on a roadie.” Luke said carefully, and you could tell he was trying not to upset you.

You could also tell that he was being honest. Because you could always tell when he was lying. But your mind was running a million miles a minute. Jack hadn’t… for a month? Because of his fight with you? You loved Jack, but you also knew (despite wishing that you didn’t know at all) that it had been years since he’d gone that long without intimacy. In fact, it was probably the longest since losing his virginity that Jack hadn’t fulfilled his desires.

Your mind was starting to wander into the gutter, and you pressed your eyes closed to bring yourself back to Earth. All you could do was nod at Luke, before you both hopped out of the car and into the elevator. Luke insisted on carrying your luggage, so you found yourself fidgeting incessantly with your hands as the elevator climbed to the correct floor.

You trailed behind Luke as he strode towards the apartment door and unlocked it, stepping inside and putting your bag down. He looked back and waved you into the apartment, pressing a finger to his lips. You tiptoed across the doorway, and your heart softened at the scene before you.

You could see the back of Jack’s head leaned up against the couch, and an episode of Gilmore Girls playing on the TV mounted on the wall. In fact, it was one of your favourite episodes; where Jess comes back and shows Rory the book he wrote, and calls her out for dropping out of Yale. You smiled ruefully as you thought about the parallels between that episode and your current situation with Jack, as the argument between Jess and Rory played out on the screen.

What do you mean?

You know what I mean! I know you. I know you better than anyone! This isn't you!

…

This isn't you! This! You going out with this jerk, with the Porsche! We made fun of guys like this!

You caught him on a bad night.

This isn't about him! Okay? Screw him! What's going on with you? This isn't you, Rory. You know it isn't. What's going on?

I don't know. I don't know…

“Are we Team Jess or Team Rory this time, Jacky?” Luke called out, making you jump.

“Team Jess all the way, obviously. Where have you bee-” Jack stopped dead in his tracks as he turned to face his brother, and instead saw you in the middle of his living room.

Jack’s face was a revelation. Confusion, at first. Then the briefest flash of hurt and anguish. Then a smile. Then caution and uncertainty, as he slowly stepped towards you.

You let a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding, and quickly moved across the room, clumsily throwing your arms around your best friend. You felt Jack freeze momentarily, almost as if he was shocked at your touch, but that soon passed and you felt his hands slide around your waist and squeeze, bringing your bodies as close together as possible.

You nestled your head on Jack’s shoulder, breathing in his scent. His thumbs softly rubbed up and down your side, and you felt him press a soft kiss into your hair. You stayed like that for a minute, or maybe longer, relaxing into the embrace.

The sound of the apartment door slamming shut made you jolt, and you rolled your eyes as you realised that Luke had tried to sneak way unnoticed and failed miserably.

“Hi.” Jack whispered, pulling back from you slightly but keeping his hands locked around you.

“Hi.” You whispered back, reaching up to brush his hair out of his eyes.

“Is it still shit hair? Or better now it’s longer?” Jack teased, rolling his tongue between his teeth.

“Better. But only slightly.” You teased back, your hands slipping down to the back of his neck comfortably.

The warmth of the surprise arrival was starting to fade. The dread you’d felt over addressing your fight with Jack was starting to set in, fast. The guilt you felt for being the catalyst for over a month for not speaking to your best friend was washing over you. Your heart rate was through the roof, and your palms were beginning to sweat.

Jack sensed your change in mood, and pulled away from you to look you up and down.

“Are you hungry? Do you want to shower? Or take a nap?” He was nervous, too.

“I ate before my flight. And showered this morning. And it’s 11am, so I think I’m good on the nap front. But I do think we should… we should talk. About everything.” You were basically tripping over your words at this point, but Jack’s reassuring nod helped to calm your nerves.

Wordlessly, Jack took your hand and led you over to the couch, gesturing for you to sit. You sat down and faced him, crossing your legs and resting your hands on your knees, still fidgeting with your hoodie sleeves.

“I’m sorry - “ You both said unanimously, a gentle laughter filling the room.

“I’m sorry I needed so much time apart, J. It fucking sucked, and it was my fault, and I just didn’t -” You began to ramble, only stopping when Jack leaned over and squeezed your knee reassuringly.

“You only needed that time because I was an asshole, sugar. It’s on me, really. I had no right to treat you like an occasional friend, or something that I shouldn’t prioritise -” Jack paused as you cringed, remembering the text messages that referred to his time with you as “boring family bullshit”.

“I was thinking with my dick, not with my head, and that’s not fair on anyone.” You shot Jack a weird look, and he looked sheepish in return.

“Quinn… Quinn said that to me. After you told him to tell me about the messages. He’s right, thought. It wasn’t fair.” Jack continued, pausing to take a deep breath.

“This whole… thing, this life -” Jack gestured broadly at the apartment around you, and you glanced around properly for the first time. Framed jerseys of Luke and Jack’s adorned the walls.Various photos of the Hughes family scattered about the place. The fridge, with a gas bill stuck to it, along with a polaroid of you and Jack from last Christmas. And a photo from your senior prom. And a group photo of everyone from last summer at the lake house, Jack’s mouth open in laughter with his arm slung over your bikini-clad shoulders.

“It’s all I thought I ever wanted. And it’s amazing, and I’m so grateful. But it’s worth nothing to me, the money, the girls -” You felt yourself involuntarily cringe again. “The fame, the accolades, it’s worth nothing to me without the people that I love by my side. And if those people don’t know how much I love and appreciate them, because I treat them like shit, then that’s on me. No one else. Me.”

You sat quietly, taking in Jack’s emphatic statement. You weren’t quite sure what to say. So instead, you gently reached over and took Jack’s hand in yours, lacing your fingers through his and squeezing softly, for a moment while you gathered your thoughts.

“I know the life you live, Jack. You don’t have to be sorry for it. Playing hockey was all you ever dreamed of, and I honestly can’t blame you for… enjoying… all the perks it comes with.” You swallowed the wave of nausea that hit you, before continuing.

“I don’t… I don’t know what life looks like without you in it. The last month was such a bizarre experience, and not one that I ever want to repeat, but I also… I need to… Can I be honest?” You spoke softly, glancing up from your hands to meet Jack’s gaze, and he nodded encouragingly at you.

“I wasn’t just upset because you made me feel like I was inconveniencing you, or cock-blocking you -” It was Jack’s turn to cringe. “I think I was upset because I was jealous. Because that will never, ever be me. And I think… I think I want it to be? Maybe? Fuck, I don’t know!” You dropped Jack’s hand and stood up from the couch, and started to pace the room.

“Sugar, please sit down.” Jack pleaded, and you paused, looking back at him on the couch. One look was all you needed, and you narrowed your eyes at the smirk on his dumb face.

“Why are you smirking? I am experiencing emotional distress, you asshole.” You seethed, running your hands through your hair in frustration.

“Tell me more about this jealousy thing. I’m intrigued.” Jack’s tone was light and teasing, and washed over you like sour milk. Your head whipped in his direction and your face must’ve said a thousand words, because Jack’s smirk soon disappeared and he hurriedly stood up and walked over, reaching out to touch you.

“See, this -” You jabbed a finger into Jack’s chest. “This is why I have avoided this conversation for almost my entire life. Because you think it’s hilarious that we could ever go down that path. That we could ever be something more than what we are. Because I’m not good enough,or pretty enough, or just enough and I never will be, and I hate it. I hate it so much.” Your voice cracked on the last few words, and you felt the hot tears start to bubble out of your eyes and stream down your face.

Jack didn’t say a word. He didn’t have to. He pulled you into a hug, bringing his hand up to your face and gently brushing away the tears with his thumbs.

“Breathe, sugar. You need to calm down.” Jack said quietly, willing you to calm. That just made you cry harder.

You were about to pull away, when you felt Jack cup your face with both hands, before leaning in to kiss you.

#jack hughes #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes one shot #new jersey devils #luke hughes #luke hughes imagine #quinn hughes imagine #my writing #nhl fanfiction

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corroded-hellfire · 3 months

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Finally His Year - Eddie Munson x Reader

An As You Wish Story

Collab with my soulmate @munson-blurbs 🩵

Summary: It’s Eddie’s birthday and what he really wants is you.

Note: In honor of JQ’s 30th birthday woohoo 🎉

Words: 4.1k

[As You Wish masterlist]

The Munson house is buzzing when you arrive. There are three unfamiliar cars parked in front of it, probably from the other people celebrating Eddie’s birthday with him. You have his gift tucked under your arm and a Tupperware of raspberry and white chocolate chip cookies in that same hand, using the free one to ring the doorbell.

You barely have time to pull your forefinger back before the door swings open. Luke peeks his head around, grinning when he sees you standing there.

“Good evening, madam-a-zell,” he says in a vague concoction of European accents—none of them even resembling French. “May I take your—ooh, cookies!”

Laughing, you reach over and ruffle his mop of curls. “These are for Daddy, Luke-miere.” When his face falls, you quickly add, “but maybe he’ll share.”

This placates him, and he skips off to announce your arrival. As soon as he says your name, you hear the sound of Eddie’s feet shuffling towards the entryway.

“You made it!” He says with a huge smile. In your dreams, he pulls you in for a hug and kisses you tenderly. But this is real life, so he just stands with his hands in his pockets.

“I made it,” you agree awkwardly. It takes a moment for you to remember everything you’re holding. “Oh, these are all for you.” You maneuver it all, handing him the cylindrical tube and then the plastic container. Luke loudly clears his throat, and you grin. “Unless you feel like sharing the cookies.”

Eddie takes the presents, shaking his head at his younger son’s interruption. “I’ll consider it. Thank you, Sweetheart.”

That stupid nickname. You love and hate it; as much as he calls you that, you know you’re not his sweetheart. Because he’s married.

His wife—God, you hated that she held that title—was sipping a full glass of wine. Though she’s standing next to Nancy, the two aren’t exchanging any words.

You should go over there. Brittany is technically one of your employers, so it’s best not to rock the boat. Unless, of course, you could ensure she’d fall overboard.

Plastering a feigned smile on your face, you walk over to her. Before you can even get out a hello, she points towards Ryan and Luke.

“They have to go to bed at nine o’clock, so just have them in their pajamas with their teeth brushed by then.”

Embarrassment crawls under your skin. “Oh, I, um, I’m actually here for the party. Not to babysit.”

Brittany doesn’t seem thrown off at all; she just rolls her eyes and turns to Nancy. “Didn’t realize people still needed parties after they turned thirty,” she quips.

To her credit, Nancy just shrugs and walks to you, ignoring the snark hurled your way. She guides you over to where the rest of the group is chatting.

“Can you say, ‘Uncle Dusty’?” Dustin asks little Tiffany Mayfield-Sinclair, gently bouncing her in his arms. “C’mon…Un-kul Duh-stee!”

“Elmo!” Tiffany claps her chubby hands together gleefully, unbothered by Dustin’s frustration.

“I think your kid’s broken,” he grumbles, handing the little girl back to Lucas.

“She was fine until you held her,” Lucas quips as he holds his daughter against his chest.

“Or maybe she just thinks you look like Elmo,” Steve offers with a shrug.

“What is this, high school?” Dustin asks, looking between his friends. “Ganging up on me?”

Eddie shakes his head and gives a loud tsk.

“It’s because you’re not part of the club, Henderson.”

“Oh, because I’m not a dad?” Dustin asks, gesturing with a motion that looks very similar to jazz hands. “That’s fine. Because I’m the coolest uncle these kids have. Someone has to be that figure in their lives.”

“Are they always like this?” you ask Nancy with an amused chuckle.

“Since high school,” Nancy confirms with a sigh. “The sad thing is, I can see how they’ve matured since then.”

You giggle at her response before there’s a weighted thunk against the front of your legs. Ryan’s chocolate eyes peer up at you, a huge grin on his round face.

“Well hello, you,” you greet him, reaching down to ruffle his honey colored hair.

“I’m so happy you’re here!” Ryan cheers. Warmth spreads in your chest at his words. You’re touched until he opens his mouth again to ask, “Luke said you brought cookies?”

“I did,” you tell him, tugging on a lock of hair that’s fallen into his eyes. “But they’re for your dad. It’s up to him if he wants to share with you guys.” Of course he will, you think to yourself. Eddie loves these boys more than Luke loves his Hot Wheels collection; and as you’re reminded by the five-year-old almost every day you babysit, that’s a lot.

“Maybe after he opens his presents,” Ryan muses, more to himself than you. “Or after we have the cake Aunt Nancy made.

“Ryan!”

A little girl’s call echoes around the room. The older Munson boy gives you a quick smile before running towards the kitchen where Natalie Harrington is drawing a picture.

Something Ryan said sticks in your brain though. You turn towards Nancy, brow pinching slightly.

“You made Eddie’s cake?” you ask.

The deep breath Nancy takes lets you know there’s more to the story than she’s probably going to tell you. After all, she hardly knows you. The two of you had only met a handful of times since you started watching the boys last year and none of the visits were particularly long. It's an annoyed sigh that Nancy heaves out, her petite shoulders falling with the release. She’s not annoyed at you, if her kindness and body language towards you are anything to go on. So, what’s got her so tense?

“I did,” Nancy affirms. She’s quiet for a moment and at first you think that’s all she’s going to say. But the way her head bobbles slightly from side to side and her jaw muscles tighten and release, you can tell she’s picking her words carefully before she speaks. To her, you’re her friend’s employee so how much should she reveal? “Steve, um, called Eddie yesterday morning to confirm the time for the party today. Eddie was headed out the door just as Steve called. He said he was going to the grocery store. To buy his own birthday cake.”

“His own? Why couldn’t his wife get it? Or better yet, why didn’t she make one for him with the boys?” Your mind floats back to when you and the boys made a cake for Ryan’s birthday over the summer. It was messy and overly sweet, but the love and care put into it are what made it special.

“That’s what I said,” Nancy grits out through a clenched jaw. After a few moments, you see Nancy’s body deflate. The tension rolls off her like a wave returning to the sea. “So, I made him one. Carrot cake with cream cheese frosting.”

“Carrot cake?” you ask, wrinkling up your nose. It’s not that you disliked the dessert, it just wasn’t what you would’ve pegged Eddie for on his birthday.

“I know,” Nancy says with a small chuckle. She shakes her head in amusement, wavy locks of hair swaying at the movement. “He can’t be typical, right? Not chocolate or vanilla—or even strawberry, but carrot cake. That’s Eddie for ya.”

The party continues with casual conversations: milestones Tiffany is meeting, work updates for the “kids” (who were now full-fledged adults, but would always be freshmen to Eddie), and a tentatively scheduled reunion for their high school Dungeons & Dragons club. It only came to a stop when there was a crash in the kitchen.

Everyone’s heads whipped around at the sound, worried that one of the Munson or Harrington children was causing chaos, but the reason for the clamor was none other than Brittany. She’d dropped the cheese and cracker board on the ground and was laughing like she’d just heard the funniest joke.

“Oopsie daisy!” She cackles, nearly falling over with the force of her laugh. While the rest of you had been casually sipping wine or beer, she had been drinking like she was at a frat party.

“Jesus,” Nancy mutters under her breath.

Eddie glances at Steve, who nods at Lucas, and the two of them step in towards Brittany.

“C’mon, time for bed, Britt,” Steve says as patiently as he can manage. He hooks an arm around her, and Lucas does the same on the other side. It’s obvious that this isn’t the first time they’ve done this. A well-oiled machine, ensuring that the kids are none the wiser.

Small miracles, you suppose.

“We can do presents when they get back,” Max jumps in, trying to keep the attention away from the drunk woman stumbling away.

Eddie nods in agreement, collecting the various gifts from the kitchen table and placing them next to his spot on the sofa. When he sits, he spreads his legs enough that you can imagine yourself between them, pressing kisses up his thighs to his—

No. Stop it.

When Steve and Lucas return, Eddie reaches for the first package. Though the room is filled with excited murmurs and crinkling wrapping paper, you can still make out the quiet conversation between Nancy and her husband.

“Did you hold a pillow over her head?”

“No, Nance.”

“Damn it.”

You tuck your lips into your mouth to stifle a smile.

Eddie pulls out a pair of sneakers from the box: white with a black check mark on the side. He immediately slides them on his feet, wiggling his toes around to ensure enough room. “These are perfect! My old ones were falling apart.”

“We know,” Nancy says wryly as Steve proudly announces, “You said you liked mine, so I got you the same ones.”

“Aww!” Dustin coos, pursing his lips exaggeratedly. “You guys are twins!

Eddie discreetly flips him off before continuing through his stash. Theo and Natalie Harrington made him woven friendship bracelets, which he immediately slid onto his left wrist. When he opens Dustin’s gift, a mug printed with the words “rock ‘n roll” underneath a cartoon rock and dinner roll, Wayne proclaims that it’s even cornier than the ones in the trailer.

Eddie’s face lights up at the present from Max and Lucas—a new Walkman and some heavy metal cassettes.

A pit forms in your stomach: is your gift going to be enough? Will he even like it? Was this whole thing a bad—

“Holy shit.”

You look up to see Eddie staring awestruck at the now-unwrapped present; specifically, the present you got for him. It’s an autographed Metallica poster that you’d spotted at the mall months ago, before his birthday was even a consideration. You’d bought it and kept it safely in your room, waiting for the perfect time to give it to him.

“Sweetheart, this is…” He just shakes his head, blinking misty eyes. “Wow. I, um…thank you,” he finally manages.

Unbeknownst to you, Eddie had seen that same poster just last week. He had Brittany’s shopping bags clutched in his hands when he walked towards the record store.

Kirk Hammett’s signature called to him like a siren.

Eddie was just about ready to pay for it when Brittany marched over, plucking it from his grip and mumbling something about not having room for any more of his stupid music shit.

That had been the end of that.

“You’re welcome,” you say with a small shrug, as if it was nothing at all. “I saw it and immediately thought of you.” That wasn’t too much to say, right? It’s normal to think of someone when you see something you know they’d love, right? Even if that person is your boss?

Once Luke stops scavenging through his father’s presents like one might be hidden there for him, he looks up at his dad with wide, pleading eyes that he most definitely inherited from the man.

“Time for caaaake?”

Eddie snorts and playfully rolls his eyes. A ringed hand comes down to ruffle the little boy’s curls.

“I guess we could have cake now.”

The Munson boys and the Harrington sibling duo cheer in excitement and beat everyone else into the kitchen. All you can hear as the kids disappear into the next room is an I’m okay! from Luke.

Steve taps you on the shoulder as you step over the threshold into the kitchen.

“Hey, could you give me a hand with the cake?” he asks.

“Sure.” You follow Steve over to the refrigerator, silently wondering how many women had actually denied the handsome man anything when he asked in such a smooth voice.

The cake looks delicious as Steve pulls it out of the fridge. Nancy definitely put in some work to make sure it turned out this lovely. The cream cheese frosting is smooth on all sides with delicate piping lining the edge of the rectangular sheet cake. In a beautiful scrawl that is far nicer than your own handwriting, she had written “Happy Birthday Eddie!” in black gel icing.

Steve sets the cake down on the gray granite counter and reaches for a drugstore bag that has a pack of candles and a lighter in it. The two of you work as a team to plug the cake with the multicolored striped sticks and take turns lighting different sides of the cake.

“You got it?” Steve asks as he steps over towards the light switches on the wall.

“Yep,” you assure him as you carefully lift the flaming desert off the counter. Turning around to face the table proves the most difficult part as you slowly spin your body while keeping the cake steady.

Eddie is seated at the table, kids surrounding him on all sides as they clamor about what’s taking so long with the cake. Taking so long? You thought you and Steve worked pretty efficiently together.

“Watch out rugrats,” Dustin says, clapping a hand on Luke’s shoulder and pulling him out of your way.

You give the curly haired man a grateful smile before you slide the cake onto the table right in front of Eddie. As you go to pull your arms away, pale, calloused fingers reach up and rest against your skin for a moment.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” Eddie says.

All you did was carry a cake over but you’re more than glad to receive praise from your boss any time that you can.

Steve flips the kitchen lights off and everyone breaks into a rousing rendition of Happy Birthday. Ryan stands right in front of you as you sing, and you rest your hands on his small shoulders.

“Make a wish!” Luke calls from Dustin’s side once the singing ended. He watches as his dad purses his lips, thinking of a wish. The dim lighting in the room may be playing tricks on you, but you could’ve sworn Eddie’s eyes flickered over to you before he took a deep breath and blew out all thirty-something of the candles on the first try.

“Yay!” Luke cheers while everyone else claps. “Whatcha wish for?”

Ryan scoffs and rolls his eyes at his little brother. “He can’t tell you or it won’t come true.”

“For my last birthday I wished for a pet,” Luke says.

“Is that why you dug up the worm in the backyard?” Eddie asks.

“Yep,” Luke announces, a proud smile on his face.

“Wormy Munson is missed,” Ryan says, patting his little brother’s shoulder.

The attention quickly turns from squiggly little pets when Nancy asks the room, “Who wants a piece?”

“Me!” Four children’s hands shoot up at the same time, but Nancy just shakes her head at them.

“Birthday boy gets first crack at it,” she says as she slices a piece and transfers it to a Darth Vader paper plate. Nancy delivers that and a plastic fork to Eddie before returning to the counter to cut slices for the rest of the guests.

When you get your piece of cake, you slip into a seat next to Eddie’s at the table.

“So, carrot cake, huh?” you ask him with a playful smirk on your face.

“Hey, gotta get vegetables into these kids somehow,” Eddie says, reaching behind him to tickle Ryan’s belly. The older boy laughs and moves out of his dad’s reach.

“Broccoli brownies next?” you ask, a shit eating grin on your face before you pop a chunk of cake into your mouth.

“Such a smart ass,” Eddie teases, scooping some of his icing onto his pinky and wiping it off on the tip of your nose. Both boys giggle as you try to reach it with your tongue, trying to stretch it out as far as possible to lick it off. Though the boys found it funny, Eddie had an entirely different feeling wash over him as he watched your tongue snake out to try and lick the white substance off your face. His pants tighten and Eddie shifts in his seat, trying to hide his crotch further beneath the table.

Guests drift in and out of the kitchen with their plates of cake, mingling with one another out in the living room. You offer to collect the paper plates up for the garbage once everyone is done. You’re carrying the stack back towards the kitchen when you hear Steve and Eddie having a conversation in there. It’s pretty clear this is just meant to be between them, but when you hear Steve’s question to his best friend, your feet become glued to the floor.

“Think you’ll finally get lucky tonight since it’s your birthday?”

Eddie snorts. “It doesn’t seem like it.” You can practically picture him nodding his head in the direction of his bedroom where Brittany is probably snoring her ass off as she sleeps off her alcohol. You really hope she has a hangover tomorrow.

“Not what I meant, dude,” Steve replies.

This catches you off guard. Who could Steve possibly be talking about if not Brittany? Does… A sickening thought winds its way through your brain, claws taking hold in those places that are already prone to insecurities. Does Eddie have a girlfriend? It’s not like you would judge him for it after Brittany’s whoring around is common knowledge. But it drives an ice pick through your heart just picturing Eddie with his own awful, evil wife. Knowing he might be with someone who could be kind and caring should comfort you—but it doesn’t. It makes you want to tear your skin off to think of Eddie with anyone else but you. Because if he wasn’t going to be with Brittany, you wanted him to be with you. And if you didn’t even get a chance to show him what the two of you could be together? The idea threatened to destroy you.

“Watch it Harrington,” Eddie answers Steve, his voice low. It’s the closest thing to a warning you’ve ever heard from him.

A familiar toddler’s cry abruptly ends their conversation and your now-agonizing eavesdropping. Eddie shakes his head, giving Steve one last glare as he walks out of the kitchen, and looks over at a wailing Tiffany Mayfield-Sinclair.

Ryan scrunches his face. “Daddy, play her the song!”

“Yeah, play it!” Luke echoes, hands pressed to his ears.

Now you’re intrigued. “What song?”

Eddie sighs. “Boys, I don’t think anyone wants to hear me play—”

“Au contraire,” Dustin butts in with a smirk. He hands Eddie his acoustic guitar, propped up in the corner. “I think we’d all love a little concert.”

Eddie gives you a look that pleads help me out here, but you’re already invested.

“Concert! Concert!” You chant, laughing when the others join in.

He doesn’t say anything, just slips the strap over his shoulder and quickly tunes the guitar.

“If…you’re…happy and you know it, clap your hands!”

Everyone in the room claps twice. Everyone except Tiffany, who is still wailing.

“If you’re happy and you know it clap your hands!”

Same result.

“All right, all right. Let’s skip to a different verse.” Eddie takes in the baby’s squealing form.

“If…you’re…angry and you know it, do a growl.” He lets out the most ridiculous roar you’ve ever heard, and you can’t help but laugh.

From her mother’s arms, Tiffany lets out a roar of her own. Your giggle catches her attention, and she reaches out for you to hold her.

For a moment, Eddie believes his heart is going to implode from the sweet scene in front of him. He wills himself to concentrate on playing, but the sight of you holding a baby girl weakens his resolve. How many times has he daydreamed about you holding his baby girl that he shares with you? Probably too many times on the job for someone who deals with heavy machinery. In his mind she has your hair and his eyes—though he knows she’d probably gets his curls since both boys have them to a degree.

Tiffany bounces in your arms, enraptured in the music. If Eddie plays Old MacDonald, she’ll be mind-blown.

The soft timbre of Eddie’s voice, enthusiastic enough to capture Tiffany’s attention without riling her up, has your heart beating double time. Though you’ve known from the beginning that Eddie plays guitar, this is the first time you actually get to witness it. It’s as sexy as you’ve always imagined—even if he’s only playing nursery rhymes.

“There we go,” Eddie murmurs as whatever had been bothering the little girl seemingly dissipates. He grins at Max and Lucas. “That should buy you about five minutes before the next meltdown.”

Sure enough, the crying starts up again, signaling the party’s end. Hugs are exchanged as everyone clears out; final “happy birthday’s” sent Eddie’s way.

There’s a small tug on your arm just as you’re about to grab your purse. “Can you tuck us into bed?” Ryan asks, eyes wide. Luke’s at his side, nodding in agreement.

“Of course.” Always the babysitter, you think, but you truly enjoy being a part of their lives. The fact that they also enjoy it makes it even better.

The youngest Munson beams at you. “Maybe you can sleep over!”

“Uh, not this time. Sorry, kiddo.”

After teeth have been brushed and bedtime stories have been read, you retreat back to the kitchen. Eddie is clipping open bags of potato chips, and you start to gather any used paper platesto toss in the trash.

“You don’t have to,” Eddie says, gesturing towards the stack of disposable cups in your hand.

You cock your brow and smirk. “Do you really wanna clean all of this by yourself?”

“Fuck no.”

“That’s what I thought.”

He smiles back at you, shaking his head when he notices icing smeared on the back of a kitchen chair. “Should’ve put the boys on clean-up duty” he grunts.

“Then everything would just get shoved under the couch and they’d call it a day,” you point out, and he readily agrees.

Once the floor has been swept and the leftover food has been placed in the refrigerator, you have no valid excuse to stay any longer.

“I should get going,” you say, plucking your keys from your bag and twirling the chain around your forefinger. “I hope you had a good birthday.”

Eddie nods as he walks with you to the front door. He holds it open for you, then follows you out to your car. “Yeah, it was great. Especially your gift. It, um, meant a lot.” A slight rosiness tinges his cheeks, and he pulls you in for a hug.

You return it easily, your arms wrapping around his torso. Both of you hold on a beat longer than necessary, but you can’t seem to pull away.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, breath tickling your ear. He leans in; for a moment, it seems like he’s going to kiss the top of your head, but he takes a step back. Eddie’s done it so many times in his mind before that he almost forgot he doesn’t get to do it in real life. “Get home safe, yeah?”

“I will.” You duck into your car, giving him a small wave before you pull out of the driveway. As you drive, you watch Eddie trudge back into the house from your rearview mirror.

Once he’s inside, he closes the door and breathes out a sigh. He adjusts himself over his pants, painfully aware that he’s half-hard from a simple hug. Looking towards the bedroom he shares with Brittany, he pivots away and beelines towards the Tupperware of cookies you’d made.

Taking a big bite, he chews thoughtfully, delaying the inevitable. If only he could curl up next to you instead of her. He chuckles at the insanity of the idea and takes another bite of cookie.

“Happy fuckin’ birthday to me.”

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