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thyme-in-a-bubble · 8 months

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the brie

buttercup, chapter two

a/n: i was originally gonna go into more detail and dive into and actually write the traumatic moments, but i decided to go a little bit more easy on myself, just focus mostly on the healing part and regaining the good.

summary: “well, we’re going out to our usual watering hole, or it’s not just us, Karen, who works with us, is also tagging along. Would you wanna join? Might be fun… might tear the city up, dance all night and watch the sunrise or whatever kids do these days.”

warnings: matt murdock x baker!reader, neighbours to lovers, rape recovery, ptsd, wingman foggy, reference to croissant theft, alcohol consumption, drunk munching on cheese, kissing, crying, retelling of trauma (if it gets too much for you, then please feel free to just skip the last part of this chapter)

word count: 4978

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Scooping one divided lump of dough closer with the bench scraper in your grasp, you put it down before first folding the bottom of the blob over itself, then the sides and then stretched the top down as well before you rolled it all up to create that much more tension in the loaf. As you plopped the soft mass into one of the nearby dusted bannetons, nippily pinching the seam and giving it a few stitches, the ingrained dance only kept on as your fingers moved on to shape the next loaf of sourdough.

To your left, not at the central table where you worked, stood your uncle Howard, a piping bag of vanilla-flaked cream in his grasp as his rotund frame bent over rows and rows of delicate, flaky little pastries, filling the sunken centre up before he could top them off with little chunks of crimson berries.

“Are you alright, cupcake?” you glanced up to see Walter leaning against the doorframe that led directly behind the counter, “you look like you’re about to nosedive into the dough and use it as a pillow.”

“I’m alright, just didn’t sleep much last night,” you blinked back down at your work, noting how your weary eyes stung slightly from the lack of rest, “I had a nightmare that was really, really not fun, and immediately when I woke up I started crying and shaking, like instant panic attack, so I couldn’t really fall asleep again after that,” you glanced back up at him and offered a tight-lipped smile.

“Oh, I’m so sorry.”

“I just don’t get why it has to feel so real,” you let your hands halt their waltz as you shared, Howard too glancing over in your direction, “why my body needs to remember it so vividly when I fall asleep. It hasn’t forgotten it while I’m awake, so I don’t feel like I need the reminders… sorry…”

“Don’t apologise, it’s–…” instead of uttering the painful truth, Walter instead let a heavy sigh flow and offered, “…do you want me to make you a cup of coffee? Maybe that could be nice, just a little bit?”

“Yeah,” you exhaled, “thanks,” before clapping the worst of the flour off your hands, briefly wiping them against the chocolate brown apron that partially covered your t-shirt and jeans, and wandered around the table, shadowing Walter as he fiddled with the espresso machine, making it hum and puff, till he handed you a steaming mug that had a little heart in the frothy foam floating on the top.

“Here you go.”

Bringing it up to your lips, you offered him a genuine smile, “thank you, Walt.”

Staying behind the counter as Walter disappeared into the back, the chime of the small bell above the door brought your attention to the pair that then strolled in. Setting down your latte and expecting it to be just any other customer, your eyes instead went wide as you saw who it was.

“Heya, neighbour!”

“Y/n, hi,” Matthew smiled as both he and the floppy-haired man beside him came to a stop on the other side of the stocked display case, “uh, Y/n, this is my friend Foggy Nelson,” he gestured to the friendly looking fellow, “Foggy, this is my new neighbour Y/n.”

“The pastry goddess!” Foggy exclaimed excitedly, “I bow to the.”

“Goddess?” you giggled, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks as you glanced over at Matt, secretly in hopes that he’d gotten that nickname from him, “oh, I don’t know about that. My uncle’s the one who oversees most of the pastries. He studied in Paris back in the 70’s, so in other words he’s a bit of a control freak. But, he is getting better! Slowly letting me take care of more things that I’m more than capable of doing… I’m talking a lot, aren’t I?” you sucked in a sharp breath as you noticed

your rambling, “I’ll shut up. The point was just that he is the one who makes most of the pastries here, not me. He’s the goddess.”

“Well, I tasted one of your croissants the other day–”

“Actually,” Matt raised a hand and interrupted his friend, “you stole it.”

“I did not–”

“You came over and I turned away for two seconds and the next thing I knew you’d obliterated the entire bag.”

“That sounds more like your problem,” Foggy joked, managing to keep a straight face as Matt chuckled, “you’ve known me how many years now? You should know not to trust me with baked goods unless you mean for me to enjoy them,” turning his attention back to you, he leaned his folded arms against the tall section of the counter, “anyways, Y/n, that croissant was properly one of the best things I’ve ever tasted.”

“Really?” your face lit up with a bright grin.

“Yes, it was so buttery and flaky and urgh!”

“Well, if you liked that, you might like today’s special…” your feet began to carry you further to the left to the very far side of the counter.

“Oh, please do tell me,” he followed along like a magnet.

Pointing down to the pastry row on the other side of the glass, you explained, “it is this rhubarb danish that also has a little base of pastry cream at the bottom to balance out the tart compote.”

“Oh… my… god…” Foggy nearly salivated, his hypnotised gaze never straying from the treat, “you gotta be some angel sent from above.”

Busting out a laugh, you grabbed a brown paper bag, “should I take that as confirmation?”

“Yes, please,” he nodded as you plucked one up with a set of tongs.

“Will that be all?”

“I don’t know if it ever can be all, but slowly but surely I’ll get through your spread, and that is a promise,” Foggy accepted the bag into his waiting fingers, “but for now, yeah.”

“Matt, do you want anything?” you asked, feeling the flutter of butterflies wake up within your stomach as you returned your attention to him, “do you want me to describe the options for you?”

“No, I’ll just have the same as Foggy, as well as–, do you sell coffee?”

“Oh,” the scent wafting off your half-empty mug probably caught his attention, “yes, we do.”

“Then I’ll have a cup as well.”

“Oh, one for me too,” Foggy interjected. When you’d packed up another pastry and filled up two to-go cups, the shaggy-haired man pipped up as they were paying, “hey, what are you doing later tonight?”

“Uh, I don’t know. Properly just head home and rewatch some series for the billionth time,” you said, putting the cash they’d handed you away in the register, “why?”

“Well, we’re going out to our usual watering hole, or it’s not just us, Karen, who works with us, is also tagging along. Would you wanna join? Might be fun… might tear the city up, dance all night and watch the sunrise or whatever kids do these days.”

A laugh then rumbled within Matt’s chest, “we’re not gonna go dancing, Foggy.”

“You never know,” Foggy sang, “I’ve got moves like you wouldn’t believe!” he snuck a small sip of his steaming coffee before meeting your eye, “so, Y/n! Please tell me you’re coming?”

“…and then Karen was like what’s that? Turns out a giant piece of glass had stabbed my side,” Foggy clutched onto his drink as he told his dramatic tale, “I nearly died.”

Cutting her sip of beer short, the golden-haired woman sitting beside him at the round bar table objected, “you did not nearly die.”

“Oh yeah?” Foggy squinted light-heartedly back at Karen, “says the person who barely got a scratch. I single handily rescued both you and Mrs. C from that building and got a sick ass scar to prove it.”

Their voices faded away like grown-ups in a Saturday morning cartoon as you glanced back down at your drink and let the radiating heat of the man next to you seep into your bones. As your fingers brushed down the sides of the glass and played with the condensation, Matt suddenly reached out for his own, though in his search for the stout glass that stood ever so close to your own, his touch briefly grazed against your skin. But if that wasn’t enough to spike your heart rate, when his long fingers enveloped his short glass, the back of his hand pressed up against yours at the proximity.

You weren’t sure how long it persisted before he raised his dark drink up to his lips, but it didn’t seem like he was in a rush to let the contact fade. Your breath managed to grow ragged in the chunk of time you got to stare down at his hand, it looking so massive up against yours. Though the light in the dingy bar was low, you could still manage to make out the dizzying pattern of prominent veins that cascaded off the back of his hand like a calm rainfall rolling down a windowpane.

For a moment there, assisted by the few drinks in your system, you let yourself dream, just for a little while, just until Foggy’s voice cut through your haze and stirred you from your fantasy.

“… I mean, am I right? I’m right. Come on, Y/n, back me up here!”

“Huh? I’m sorry, uhm…” you blinked, in some ways feeling more drunk than you had a minute ago, “wha–what did you say?”

As Foggy then began to explain what you’d missed, Matt leaned down close to your ear and whispered, his hot breath tickling your skin and causing goosebumps to erupt.

“You okay?”

“Mhm,” you hummed fuzzily.

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” you glanced down and noticed how rapidly your chest was rising and falling.

“Do you wanna go home? I can walk with you if you want,” he offered quietly.

“Uhm…” you blinked up at him before uttering, “sure, but I don’t wanna end your night before you want to.”

“No, you’re not,” he reassured you, “I’m ready to go home myself.”

“Alright then,” you nodded before Matt turned to the others.

“Guys, we’re gonna head home.”

“No!” Foggy boomed, “really?”

Throwing her hands up, Karen added, “but we haven’t even gone dancing yet!”

“Sorry,” Matt got up from his tall stool, “another night.”

“Thanks for inviting me,” you tugged your jacket back on, “I had a lot of fun.”

To your surprise, they both got up and hugged you in return.

“Thank you for coming!” Karen gave you a tight squeeze before Foggy took over.

“And we’ll be seeing you for the next one, right?”

“Uh, sure,” you gave his back a light pat, “if I have time and stuff the day that it happens, then I’d love to tag along.”

Casting his glance upon the other lawyer, “bye, Matt,” Foggy then yanked him into an embrace, “I love you, you know that?”

“Yeah,” Matt chuckled, clapping his friend’s spine, “I know, buddy.”

“You love me too, right?” Foggy pulled back, though still kept his hands fast on Matt’s broad shoulders, “don’t leave me hanging, it’s bad for a man’s health.”

“Foggy, I started a firm with you. Of course, I love you,” Matt smiled back at his sloshed pal, “good night.”

“Night, night,” Foggy patted his scruffy cheek before letting him out of his gasp, though adding as you turned to exit the bar, “night, Y/n! I love you too! I just met you today, but I love you!”

Soft giggles bubbled out of you as the door slammed shut behind you.

“So, those are your friends...” you smiled into the night, “I like them. They’re nice.”

“Yeah,” the corners of Matt’s lips turned further up till dimples bloomed, “they’re good eggs.”

As the two of you began to move along, the silence didn’t last very long at all.

“This is really nice of you, walking me home like this,” you uttered, “I know it’s just because we’re neighbours and headed in the same direction, but–”

“It’s not.”

“What?” your eyes found him.

“It’s not because we’re neighbours. It’s just, you know, the decent thing to do.”

“Right,” you exhaled, casting your glance back down onto the sidewalk as you momentarily got your hopes up.

“And you know how this city can be,” Matt went on, “it’s not smart for anyone to walk alone at night.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, trying to keep your tone nonchalant, “of course.”

When a street then appeared before you, slicing the path you journeyed on, and even though there wasn’t any traffic in sight, your hand still instinctively shot down to grasp Matt’s forearm before the two of you could cross.

Realising what you’d done, you quietly muttered, “sorry,” though couldn’t find the strength to withdraw your touch just yet.

“It’s okay,” his low voice slid from his lips like silk.

“I just didn’t want you to walk straight out into ongoing traffic...” you tore your gaze away from him and forced yourself to look at the road before you, “but there aren’t any right now, so we can cross the street…”

Guiding his palm up to the curve of your elbow, he accepted the gentle aid as you began to cross the lane.

Once you’d reached the other side and his grasp slowly began to drift back down. When his palm reached the height of your own, you softly caught it before timidly testing, “…do you mind if we–…”

“Hold hands?” with a gentle smile, he filled in before you might wonder if he could even sense your shy touch at all.

“Yeah…”

“No,” you felt him weave his fingers with your own, “not at all.”

His touch somehow felt even better than you’d imagined. Though surprisingly gruff, with harsh calluses all throughout, he cradled your palm with such care, like he’d held it a thousand times before, occasionally swiping his broad thumb over your knuckles, presumably just a subconscious gesture from his end that still caused shivers to trickle down your spine every time he did so.

You wanted the latter part of your walk home to last forever, engulfed in the comfortable silence of endless possibilities. But alas, when you did reach your building’s front door and then climbed the steps all the way up to your respective apartments, you couldn’t get yourself to let go just yet.

“Are you hungry? Because I kinda am,” you weren’t really, but anything to just stretch the night a little longer, “or maybe it’s just my subconscious taking care of me and lessening my hangover by giving me a sudden craving for cheese.”

“I don’t think I have any cheese.”

“I do,” you said maybe a bit too fast, “do you want some?”

Exhaling lowly, a soft smile twitched at his lips as he then uttered, “sure.”

As you unlocked your door, you finally let go of his hand, “make yourself at home!” you placed your keys down on the slender entry table before kicking your shoes off and peeling off your coat, hanging it up on the row of hooks, “oh, do you want me to, uh, describe the layout for you? Or just plant your down on the couch?”

“Just tell me the direction and I think I’ll be fine.”

Facing him, you haphazardly explained, “alright, the hallway goes on for a few steps and then it’s to your right–, no, wait, my right, that’s your left. It’s to your left.”

Whirling around, you delved deeper into your home till you reached the kitchen. Ripping open the fridge, you snatched up a block of half-eaten cheese before seizing a clean butter knife from the dishrack and a roll of seedy crackers from a cupboard.

Matt was already comfortable on your sage couch as you laid the humble spread out on the coffee table and joined him.

“I hope you like brie because that’s what I got. Unless you want a single slice of american cheese, then this is all the cheese I have to offer.”

“Brie it is then,” he relaxed into the cushions as you unwrapped the snack.

“Here, let me make you a bite,” slicing off bits of soft cheese, you spread it both on a cracker for him and one for you. Gently picking up his hand to place his snack in his palm, you then popped your own in your mouth and nearly melted into the couch next to him, “yep… that’s the spot…” you grinned hazily out the tall windows at the night sky as you chewed, “there’s just something about eating cheese when the moon is out that’s just so right in a way I can’t describe…”

Your murmuring conjured a light chuckle to rumble within Matt, one that swayed your gaze to train on him. Resting your head against the back of the couch, you watched as the moonlight reflected in his tinted glasses.

When the silence stretched on, Matt eventually cocked his head, “…what?”

Not tearing your eyes off of him, you breathed, “nothing…”

“You’re quiet,” his dark brows furrowed gently, “what’s going on?”

“Nothing,” you repeated, feeling almost like you were floating in a calm sea.

“You tired? Do you want me to go so that you can go to bed?”

“No, please don’t, I–…” you reached out and grazed his arm, “could–… do you want to go?”

Letting his body relax once more, he breathed, “not particularly…”

Gazing up at him, your bottom lip snuck its way in between your teeth, “Matt…”

“Yeah?”

“You–… you’re–… I–…” your pulse pounded in your ears.

“Mhm?”

“I really, really wanna kiss you right now…” you uttered thickly before you had the chance to chicken out. Like a wave crashing a shore, you didn’t even think as you let yourself dive in and press your lips to his. The kiss however didn’t last too long as you swiftly drew back as soon as your brain turned back on and you realised what you’d done, an apology hastily rushing out of your lungs, “Oh my god… I am so sorry.”

“Y/n,” hearing your name on his silky tongue did not help matters.

“I didn’t mean to just–”

“Y/n,” he repeated, trying to cut through your fog.

“We can just forget any of that ever happened, I totally get it if you don’t–”

As he brought his hands up to cradle the sides of your face, your nervous ramble fell short. When he ghosted his thumb across your cheekbone, you swore that you stopped breathing entirely.

“…can I kiss you?” he slowly asked, leaving you utterly dazed.

“W-what?”

Drawing in a breath, he repeated for you, “can I kiss you, Y/n?”

Blinking back at him, you hazily hummed, “mhm,” before he leaned in and brushed his lips against your own. The kiss was soft, just as your shoddy attempt had been, but it made your limbs feel like they morphed into jelly. When the pecks soon departed, you filled your lungs with a shaky breath as you gazed back at him in total awe, “holy shit…” only staying there a moment before you had to have another taste.

Slowly growing more confident, the intoxicating kiss gradually grew more hungry. When his fingers then weaved into your hair, you realised that up till now he’d been holding himself back, gatekeeping a kiss that caused your frame to crawl into his lap, starving for more. Your little whimpers vibrated against his tongue as he danced it against yours, growing dizzy as you melted into the heart-stopping sensation.

But suddenly a tormenting flash stabbed your being, and you abruptly tilted your lips away from his, breathlessly uttering, “wait, wait, there’s-, there’s-, uh…”

“What,” he breathed thickly, nose grazing yours before you retracted further, “are you okay?”

“I’m…” carefully crawling off his lap, you kept going till you were a safe distance away on your own side of the couch, “Matt, there’s something I need to–, uhm, tell you…”

Staying silent, he patiently waited as you gathered up the courage needed to jump off the cliff and tell him.

Casting your gaze up to the tall and dark ceilings above, you felt your limbs begin to tremble, “okay, alright… I have no idea how to, uh, say this, so I’m just gonna do it,” and like a band-aid, you uttered, “I-, I was raped,” your eyes squeezed shut, not daring to risk glancing at his reaction, “a little over a year ago… and I haven’t–, uhm, done or tried anything with anyone since… so yeah, I just thought that was a good thing for you to know since even though I hope for there not to be any problems, I just don’t know, I don’t know what it will be like for me, if my body will suddenly freak out, but I just wanted to tell you so that in case something does happens, that you know not to automatically take it personally...” drawing in a shaky breath, you fluttered your gaze open and waited for his response, “Matt?”

“Yeah?” he answered carefully.

“Please don’t say that I’m scaring you away right now…” you shifted your position, turning to face him once more.

“You’re not, you’re not,” his head softly shook from side to side, “I just–… I really, really sorry.”

“Yeah…” you exhaled slowly, feeling tears sting the corners of your eyes, “me too…” staring at him a moment, you then bared your all and uttered, “I really like you, Matt,” a faint smile accompanied the declaration, “I think you might be the only guy in all of New York that I’m not scared of,” every other man you could think of had all had at least a second, a little flicker, of something that over the past year had terrified you, “and I don’t want you to think that I’m made of glass, that’s not what I want, that’s not why I’m telling you this. Please trust me when I say that I want to, I wanna do–…” a weighty exhale flowed from your lungs as your lips remembered his taste, “I wanna do everything with you… if–, if that’s something you’d like as well… but if we do, even though I really, really want to, I think it’s probably smartest to go slow, no pressure, you know, just in case, so that my body doesn’t freak out. Also, I’d really appreciate it if I at any point indicate for you to stop or even just pause a moment, that you’ll do that, that you’ll listen to me,” you briefly glanced down at your fiddling fingers, “and you know, I’m not saying let’s only do PG things, there are so, so many wonderful steps on the way that we can have fun with… I just–, I wanted to let you know now, before, so that we wouldn’t potentially have this conversation when something did happen.”

Only parting his lips when he was sure you were done, he uttered, “thank you for telling me. Are you–… are you okay? Was what happened before too much?”

“No…” you shook your head gently, “no, it wasn’t,” taking his hand in yours, you shared, “and I’m okay, I think… I mean, some days it still feels like it just happened, and others I notice something, something small, that I’ve gotten back, that I’ve regained…” absentmindedly tracing the lines of his palm with your thumb, you asked, “do you–… do you have any questions? Is there anything you wanna know?”

“No, I–… I just want you to tell me however much or little you feel comfortable with sharing.”

“…can I tell you? About it?” you asked slowly and he swiftly offered you a soft nod. Drawing in a deep breath, you began, “It, um, it was a Saturday night… I’d just gotten back from the bakery super late, maybe close to midnight… and when I was getting ready for bed, my roommate came home, he’d been out drinking as he usually spent his weekends. I remember we stayed up a while, just talking about the mundane stuff we always did. It was like any other Saturday, really. That was until I got too tired and went to go to bed, but he didn’t wanna stop talking, so he followed along into my room while I got ready and stuff,” averting your gaze, your bottom lip began to tremble, “we were just talking, it wasn’t anything special and then the next thing I knew, he was kissing me. It just–… it happened so fast… his hands were all over me… I remember he pushed me up against my closet so hard that my back was bruised the next day, and I don’t bruise that easily. He was just so wasted that I don’t think he realised or maybe even cared what he was doing. I tried to say something, tried to make him stop, but he didn’t listen to me. If he heard me, then I don’t think he understood what it was that I was saying… I would have pushed him away, slapped and hit him, but I couldn’t, I couldn’t move my body, not even a little, I just froze…”

“I can still feel what he felt like… like my skin won’t let go of the memory…” tears rolled down your cheeks as you squeezed your eyes shut and tried to ignore how your palm tingled with recollection, “how he forced me to touch him and held his hand over mine, making it move as if he just thought I didn’t know what to do… he was my friend, you know? He wasn’t just some stranger who dragged me into an alley and held a knife to my throat. He was my friend. He would always make offhand jokes about seeing me as just a little sister and how he wasn’t attracted to you at all. Made such a big deal of it that I never thought he’d try anything… I have no idea how long it actually went on… I don’t even remember when it was that I landed on the bed, if it was before or after he–… after he–… did stuff, t-touched me… I just remember I was laying there when it happened. The masked man, the devil of hell’s kitchen, he ripped him off of me…”

“He’d somehow heard… I think maybe if I hadn’t opened the window that night to air out the room, he wouldn’t have saved me… he beat him up... knocked him out… he told me to call the police, but I couldn’t, so I instead asked my uncle to come get me… my body’s never shaked the way it did that night… I remember I was so confused because I wasn’t cold, didn’t get it till the masked man said I was in shock… it didn’t stop till the next night… when he was about to leave, I asked what if Mi–,” you couldn’t get yourself to utter Michael’s name out loud without feeling as if your whole world would crumble around you, “what if he woke up before Howard arrived, and so he just stayed there with me, right till he somehow heard my uncle walking up the stairs and then he slipped out the way he came in, right before I heard the front door unlock.”

Letting out a long and unsteady breath, you raised a trembling palm up to wipe your cheeks.

For a while, the silence got to encompass the space completely, your left hand still shaking in Matt’s as you eventually heard him ask.

“Did you ever go to the police?”

“No. In the small window that I had to do one of those kits, I was just way too overwhelmed and confused and I just couldn’t think straight, I couldn’t do anything but relive that moment over and over again, so I didn’t do anything in time. But the longer time that passes and the more it sinks in what he did and the ways that I’m still paying for it, the things he ruined inside of me that I’m not sure if I’ll ever be able to get back, the more I wish that I had gone to the police. But it’s too late now.”

“No, it’s not,” his fingers squeezed slightly around yours, “I could help you, I’m a lawyer after all.”

“No, Matt,” you said firmly, “it is. I don’t wanna sit there and hear them go oh, it’s your word against his, sorry, and have them think that not enough happened technically for them to take it seriously. Enough happened, trust me. I’m eternally grateful that Daredevil saved me from whatever else he could have done to me that night, but enough happened. Just because he didn’t stick it in me doesn’t mean nothing happened. That is the kind of belief that only belongs to people who think that the only sexual act that counts as sex is when a penis is in a vagina, and that is just so incredibly wrong,” an enraged laugh tumbled out of you as you fumed, “they are the kind of people who think that someone queer, disabled or just someone who isn’t into that sexual act isn’t actually having sex when they are. Sex is about connection, it’s about pleasure and there are endless amounts of things that can give a person pleasure,” clenching your jaw, you let out a heavy sigh, “I wish it could be different, I wish many things, I wish it hadn’t had happened at all, but it did, and I hope that at the very least he learned something from it, that he changed, that he wouldn’t do it again to someone else.”

#lea’s writing #buttercup series #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock imagine #matt murdock fanfiction #matt murdock fanfic #matthew murdock imagine #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock x you #daredevil x reader #matt murdock series #matthew murdock x reader #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock angst #matt murdock hurt/comfort

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yandere-kokeshi · 1 year

Text

Yandere Miguel and Miles with a gn darling who's hosting Venom

Warnings: yandere behavior

A/N: this was requested but I accidentally deleted it. To whomever sent this on anon, please enjoy :)

Miguel O’Hara:

Miguel likely finds out pretty quickly about Venom, seeing you sweat profusely and talking to yourself was a huge giveaway.

But he also used his free time to use his tech to find out about your ‘Spiderverse’, therefore, witnessing video/and photo evidence of Venom. The minute he comes to you, he’s in your face, inquiring about the so-called symbiote, which leads to you confessing about Venom.

He’s a bit impressed by Venom’s uniqueness. Finding the black liquid wraps around your figure, transforming you into something abnormal isn’t an everyday thing you see. Which leads to him asking a bunch of questions, especially about how their voice works.

Dating you and Venom was quite hard at the beginning. Not only did his spider senses go off constantly — but the parasite teased him often; sticking out its tongue from behind your back whenever you turned around to do things.

At first, Miguel will try to find a ‘cure’ for you, wanting to get rid of the damn parasite. He viewed them as nothing but a pawn in a pack, using your body as it pleases. But the more he watched you laugh, getting comforted by the symbiote whenever Miguel wasn’t there, or getting along with it, he realized it was a part of you; just like how he’s part spider.

As much as he hates to state it, he appreciates how Venom can protect you. While Miguel would prefer to be in control, protecting the only family he has left, he’s relieved Venom can easily take over your body — directing you away from the danger or taking care of the problem itself without you being involved.

Speaking of Venom being in full form, the first time Miguel witnessed them taking over your body - its tongue and sharp teeth expanding, the dark voice shaking the ground, he was… surprised. He stared up at Venom, before cursing them out, demanding they bring you back, but due to Venom’s humor, Miguel was annoyed with their teasing.

Both of them don’t get along well, but they have times with bonding, something in common which is their protectiveness and possessiveness towards you. At some point, they may become competitive against each other but in all, they both work together when it comes to making sure you stay as theirs.

Venom loves to tease the hell out of Miguel, touching him whenever the two of you are holding hands or hugging him. Sometimes, the symbiote will pop out and try to scare the man on purpose.

Miguel often wants to strangle the damn symbiote and will angrily laugh when they get upset at him when he calls them a parasite or alien. At this point, he will purposely nickname that but will stop if you say so, but expect no apologies.

The strictest about Venom listening to the rules Miguel places out — hence the talk of: “No eating people”. This also involves getting aggressive and setting boundaries with the damn alien, going as far to threaten to take them out himself.

Isn’t afraid of using vibrations and intense heat to get the symbiote out of you if they become too bloodthirsty within a fight.

Miles Morales:

At first, Miles thought you were ‘sick’, at times taking it as one of your quirks as you constantly whispered to yourself and often bought a bunch of chocolate to a point where it was unhealthy.

Sure, he commented about the chocolate. Always suggesting you should eat something healthier. But it was you. So he took your answer and often didn't question it again.

He figures out your situation when the two of you were on a date and a band nearby was playing, making you cover your ears, Miles could see you were in pain; worry covering his face as he moved you to somewhere quietly, which leads to you telling about your buddy.

At first, he was confused at your words, worrying you’d lost it, but when a mass of black blob came out of your shoulder, revealing terrifying teeth and white eyes, he freaked out.

Getting him to calm down was a bit troubling, but soon after explaining about Venom and how you two bond, Miles… is pretty nonchalant about it surprisingly. He nods along, often looking at Venom fearfully before asking normal questions.

Miles has a sketchbook dedicated to you and Venom. Almost every page is drawn in extreme details of you being transformed, your smile, and Venom’s tentacles appearing on your body.

While dating you, he’s grown to Venom’s constant interruptions in the conversations, talking to the both of you and often ignoring their teasing. Eventually, he’s grown to be braver on comebacks to the damn symbiote, laughing and smiling cockily when they get ‘offended’.

The time Miles witnesses you being transformed into a giant abnormal figure with terrifying teeth, he fears for a second — but slightly calmed down when Venom tells him it’s them and that you’re fine. The moment you turn back into yourself, he quickly interrupts your apology with a quick hug.

Venom loves to tease Miles. Whenever they catch him staring at you, they always call him a ‘lovesick idiot’ and ‘a doofus’.

Seeing Venom get aggressive, often itching for a fight worries him like a mother hen. He’s always the one to talk it out through Venom, often making them question their behavior and see what the consequences will do if they decide to continue.

Although your interesting ‘power’ intrigues and amazes him, he gets nervous around you, stating his worries about the symbiote possibly using you or waiting for the right time to consume you and many others. But, he’s learned that Venom is quite fond of you; wrapping their wraps around your figure when you sleep to make you more comfortable.

While he does worry occasionally, he's more prone to acknowledge and be okay with Venom; seeing them as a roommate which leads to Miles likeing Venom a lot.

While he does get irritated when they tease him too much, or say awakward things in public that he has to cover up with odd answers to people, he does appreciate how protective they are over you and him — often wrapping their tentacles with you when you hug or kiss him. He likes it when they curl around into cuddle sessions, their wraps covering you both as you two asleep.

They both work together, often in protecting you. Not only does Venom likes the way of Miles thinking but, Miles appreciates the help in making sure people get what they deserve from looking at you weirdly.

—

Masterlist || Please consider reblogging and commenting instead of liking, it helps me as a creator!! Stay well!!

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wolfish-trickster · 25 days

Text

Imagine....

Hanging out with Rafayel and his friends in a summer cottage of sorts for holidays. One day you make your friends cookies. As you walk around the house giving everyone a taste you walk up to Raf's art studio door. You hear voices. As gently as you could you opened the door a bit to see inside. Rafayel is painting something while talking with one of his friends.

"I don't think she'd like this" his friend says.

"Oh please, of course she will. Everyone likes it when they get a painting of themself!"

"Not everyone is as vain as you."

"Tell me one time when I asked someone to paint me. No? Exactly!"

"Okay, fine, I take it back. I still think this won't make her fall for you."

"You're talking from your years long experience of being single."

While they were bickering your chest tightened. It was no secret you liked your artistic friend. Well, it was only a secret to him. Now that you thought about it, he did start being nicer to you. Complimenting you more often. Sitting a bit closer to you. Asking your opinions. With hope in your heart you glanced at the portrait he was working on. It wasn't finished yet but it was beautiful. If there was anything Rafayel was good at it was painting the nature. The only thing that wasn't so beautiful to you was the person standing in the middle of the beach he was painting. It was only a sillhoutte so far, a blob of colour with no detail. But even then you could see it wasn't you. The girl in the painting lookedmuch more beautiful, even with the lack of details. Besides, you could tell he was just finishing up her hair, which was nothing like yours. Not only the colour but also the length was slightly off.

With a broken heart and tears in your eyes you closed the door and left the plate of cookies on the floor. Your friends asked you what was wrong. Why you were crying. You only told them you want to be alone.

The sand beneath your naked feet was slowly turning cold. And yet you still walked. The setting sun coloured the entire sea red. You looked behind your shoulder. Rafayel's summer house was tiny in the distance. You've walked far enough and yet you're only half calmed. You'll be fully okay after the same trip back.

Suddenly a crow croaked up above. The same strange crow you've been noticing the entire holiday. In a place where all crows went extinct.

"Weird," you thought and turned to walk back to where you came. If it wasn't for two masked men, twins, blocking your path.

In a blink of an eye they got a hold of your arms and engulfed you in deep red smoke. Once it cleared and you broke yourself away from them you ran into another obstacle in form of a man. This one wore no mask. Only stern red eyes.

"Well, we finally meet, kitten."

There were lots of things you didn't know. You didn't know who were the twins that took you, nor the reason behind it. You didn't know this man. Especially the meaning behind his strange words.

You also didn't know Rafayel wasn't painting some other girl. He was painting you if you were a Lemurian, with traditional Lemurian attire and hairstyle. And you definitelly didn't know all of your friends with a panicked Rafayel were searching for you, only finding a couple of black crow-like feathers in the sand surrounding your bracelet.

Part 2

#rafayel x reader #love and deepspace rafayel #lads rafayel #love and deepspace sylus #sylus x reader #lads sylus

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idontcaboose · 3 months

Text

Haunted car au, pt 6

The next part is fighting me a bit, so I will just post this one for now.

Duke reeeaalllyyy does not get paid enough for this.

Good news, he was able to get the names of the dealers and suppliers and also narrowed down the places of interest to three warehouses. All he had to do was drop that info onto the server for the night crew, and that was that, not his problem anymore.

Bad news, the car is becoming his problem.

When Duke entered the cave, he could see the wheels turning, and not in a sick burnout way Jason does anytime he gets behind the wheel, they were just turning left and right. Then to add more insult to Duke's attempt at ignoring it, the car opened its driver door in what may have been a mockery of a greeting. Honestly, Duke could have also ignored that but then it seemed to fucking Panic and set off its own alarms and proceed to flail all the doors open and reverse to the point that the back wheels made it off the platform and into the gutter that runs though the cave. If Duke was a betting man, and he was, he would bet that whatever possessed or replaced the Batmobile was so incompetent that he had to worry more about Its safety from the Batfam. Whether that was protection from arrest or adoption is still up in the air.

Either way, this is becoming Duke's problem. He is really not paid enough for this. Time to calm down a sentient car.

“Hey, car buddy? You ok?”

Duke wasn't sure what he was expecting when he was talking to a car of all things, but absolute silence wasn’t it. Was this thing going to try to play car now? After everything that just happened? Duke slowly walked up to the driver's side door and looked in for the green blob person, only to see them in the back seat sprawled out. Duke tried to not think too hard while putting the car back in its spot, but the list of facts he has so far kept ticking.

1. The Batmobile has a new passenger or has been replaced

2. The thing/person is not good at hiding, so probably not a villain plot

2a. If it is a villain plot, they got the absolutely wrong person to do it

2aa. Possible meta forced to spy?

3. The person just freaked out so hard they fainted after setting off the Batmobile alarms.

4. Alfred will know what to do right?

5. Try to communicate again with the person in the car.

It didn't take long for the blur on the backseat to shift again. Luckily they didn't immediately jump into the driver's seat, where Duke still sat. Duke turned to look in the backseat, time to start this interrogation.

“Hey, you ok?” Duke was happy that he was able to see the head nod that the fuzzy blur gave.

“That's good. Now, I can't see you too well, but we can work out some basic questions, alright?” Another head nod answered him.

"Are you in danger? Like, did someone force you to do this?” The head shake that was produced shook the car. Duke internally sighed in relief, not a villain plot or meta trafficking gone wrong.

“So this was just an accident, and I am guessing you are now stuck?” Duke knew he was not as good at body language reading as the others, but the wave of embarrassment and resignation this blob was giving off confirmed that whoever/whatever this is, was not a total threat.

Next?

As usual tag list!

@kizzer55555 @sebas-nights @candeartist422 @trappednyourheart @fandom-life-corrupted-me @tkiesai @2lbballpeenhammer @admiralwidow @rewrittenwrongs @whotfevenknowsanymore @symmetricalastigmatism @atinygracie

#dp x dc #dc x dp #dpxdc #dcxdp #danny phantom crossover #dc crossover #Duke should get paid in Alfreds cookies #its not everyday that the possesd car faints in panic #Duke kinda feels bad for the meta/alien in the car #ngl I started playing a modded minecraft map and got a little sidetracked #the next part is still awkward to write tho #all good explanations are not yes/no answers!#its the fine line of Danny figuring out the radio vs how long to stew in mute car mode #I think this is considered crack writing #so does pacing really matter?#feels too odd for me to make it too quick tho....

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selfaware-bungou-stray-dogs · 3 months

Note

Hellooo!! Ik I just requested but I can't help it- I love ur fics Soo much!!

Can I request a teen!reader who is touch starved and their love language is physical touch? They are an absolute cuddle bug. Their parents (step dad+ bio mom) don't really give her much affections and reader is a quiet and shy kid so she doesn't ask for them either way. Though her quietness was the effect of their father dying when they were 6. Their father was the closest to them. If possible can I get this with Ranpo, Poe and Nikolai? And maybe some head cannons for the rest?

I want to say so much more but I don't wanna bother you😔

You don't bother me, so, don't worry.

And I am sorry l, that it takes so long for me to do your request.

Hugs for a good mood

Self-Aware! Platonic! Nikolai Gogol x Fem! Teen! Reader x Self-Aware! Platonic! Sigma

Self-Aware! Platonic! Ranpo Edogawa x Fem! Teen! Reader x Self-Aware! Platonic! Edgar Allan Poe

Description: Sometimes, all you need is a hug to make a good day into a perfect day.

Warning: OOC. English is my second language

__________

A large, colorful box with “Hugs for a good mood” written on it was finally ready.

Paint the TV box, decorate it, write the phrase... It took two hours, despite the fact that your dad helped you. Well, he did most of the work, while five-year-old you were coloring pictures you want to put on the box.

You wanted to climb into the box, but dad stopped you. His big hand ruffle your hair.

"You can't play with this right now. Wait for paint to dry, [Y/N]. Okay?"

You nodded and hugged his leg.

"Okay, dad."

He chuckled and picked you up, giving you a hug.

You giggled. Live was fun and full of hugs.

________

The next year he died. And shyness replaced your easygoing nature.

________

It's been few years since your dad died. You were a teen now and were going to school.

The school bell rang, you pick up your bag and books. The day was over.

You walked down school hall. You saw, how your classmates were leaving in groups, while talking. You were alone. Too shy to make friends, you were on your own.

You bit your lip and walked faster. You just want to go home.

______

Your mom and stepdad were at work. Of course, they always have their phones with them in case of emergency, and you also weren't a kid anymore. But, you really want to have someone near right now.

You wanted a hug.

Your mom was a good mom. She loves you. You aren't holding it against her, that she remarried. Your step-father was a good guy. He respected you, didn't force you to call him dad, didn't force spending time with him. He and mom let you get used to the new situation in your own speed.

You were grateful. But, if only... If only they hugged you more often... Much, much more often.

They loved you. But didn't like hugs.

And you were too shy to ask.

You ate your lunch and went to your room. You will do your homework and will be free to do whatever you want.

And will try not to look in the "Hugs for a good mood" box you still have in your room. That now was in the corner and full of books.

_________

Few hours later. In BSD World

________

Sigma felt, how Little Light landed in his head, cuddling him. Guiding Light's voice, coming from above, followed.

"New Sigma's card has such a great attack. I am so lucky I got it."

Her voice, as usual, sounds warm and soft.

Sigma smiles. The portal soon will be ready, and they will finally see Guiding Light in person. Sigma wonders, how their first meeting will her will go. Sigma was lost in thought and didn't notice, how Nikolai, with a butterfly net, was sneaking up on him.

Little Light left Sigma's head the moment before Nikolai swing his net. Little Light flew away, and Nikolai's butterfly net was on Sigma's hair. Nikolai quickly freed Sigma, and with a quick "Sorry, Sigma

", chased after Little Light.

Sigma rubbed his temples. Little Light was just a floating blob of light, it didn't have body. Anyone who tried to pet it (a.k.a. Oda and Fukuzawa), had their fingers go through Little Light. But Nikolai still tries to catch Little Light (with net) and pet it.

Well, whatever keeps him occupied.

And Guiding Light will have so many head pats from Nikolai.

Sigma chuckled. Soon.

_________

Few months later

_________

You were in your new room. The last few months were wild.

First, BSD Cast were real and adopted you before you met them in person. Second, after a very long discussion with your parents, they agreed to share custody over you. With daily phone calls to mom, weekend visits to mom's house, with spending half of the holidays with her.

The relationship between BSD Cast and your parents were good. Even great. Koyouou and your mom quickly became friends, and your step-father and Steinbeck watched games together from time to time.

Your family became bigger. If only there were more hugs.

A knock on the door interrupt you thought.

"Hey, [Y/N]! Can I come in?"

Ranpo's voice was cheerful. You clear your throat and answered.

"Yes!"

The Best Detective in the World ("you can call me Big Brother Ranpo") skipped into your room and stopped right before you. Ranpo's grin was huge.

"[Y/N], there is something I want to ask you." Ranpo stopped talking, waiting for your response. You tilted your head.

"Um... What it is?"

Ranpo opened his eyes and opened his arms. Did he...?

"Can I give you a hug?"

Your world froze. You can't believe it. Ranpo was asking for a hug.

You nodded and step forward. Ranpo hugged you immediately. You hugged him back and almost melted in the warm embrace.

Ranpo gave you a head pat.

"Don't feel shy to ask for a hug from me, [Y/N]."

The hug from Ranpo was nice. The normal day became better.

_______

You were scratching Karl behind the ears, while having a conversation with Poe (you can call me Superior Older Brother Edgar).

He was telling you about his last book, that go quite well among readers.

You nodded, while Poe was describing ideas for his new book.

"It sounds great, Poe! Can't wait to read your new book!"

Poe grinned.

"And you will be a first one to read it."

Suddenly, Poe stood up from his armchair and walked to yours. He opened his arms for a hug.

"Can I?"

You nodded slowly and stand up. Karl climbed on your shoulders, rubbing his head against your hair. You hugged Poe. He gave you a tight squeeze.

"Here you go, little sis."

A normal day became a happy day.

_________

You were exhausted. All the school work was tiring you up.

You were in the library, finishing your homework. You put pen down and looked up. You closed your eyes. Soon... The school soon will be over.

You heard steps. Then familiar voice.

"Tired?" Sigma hummed. You just nodded.

"Want a hug to make it better?" You nodded again.

The next second, Sigma was hugging you, ruffling your hair.

"Here you go. Go away, tiredness, stop making [Y/N] sad."

You smiled, leaning towards Sigma's hand.

A normal day became a good day.

________

You went to the kitchen to grab some snack. While you were in a middle of making a sandwich, Nikolai entered the room. He looked at the almost finished sandwich on your plate.

"So, I am late for making you a snack? Well then... Want to have a hug? For no reason."

Nikolai opened his arms, inviting you.

You smiled and hugged him. Nikolai chuckled.

"Thank you, sis, for being you."

A happy day became a perfect day.

______

Your life was happy. Full of family members, familial love and hugs.

_________

Headcannons

🐯 Atsushi likes give you side hugs. Will let you hug his paws, when he is half-transformed.

📒 Kunikida will mostly pet your head for doing a good job.

🩺 Yosano will give you hugs for taking good care of your health. It includes you brushing your hair and teeth.

🌨️ Junchirou will hug you just to make you happy.

👩🏻 Naomi likes to give you a "friend hug".

🍵 Kirako isn't a cuddler, but she will sqeeze your cheeks.

🛏️ Katai will let you hug him and his futon, but will be very clumsy, if he hugged you.

🐄 Kenji will carry you during hugs.

🐰 Kyouka is another shy one. You will give each other a side hug.

👘🗡️ Fukuzawa isn't a cuddler, but he will give you headpats and praise.

🦀🪢 Dazai will gush over you while hugging you.

💉 Mori is another one, who stuck with headpats.

🍷 Chuuya's hugs a tight and makes you feel secure.

🌂 Kouyou's hugs are warm. You feel safe each time she hugs you.

🇫🇷 Verlaine will give you small and quick hugs.

🎧 Rimbaud's hugs are extremely warm. He will try to stay close to you during winter.

🚩 Flags will have competition between each other on who will have more hugs with you.

🧥 Akutagawa will give an awkward head pat.

🔫 Higuchi's hugs are soft but quick.

🚬 Hirotsu will hug you for doing a good work at school.

🔪 Gin will give you less awkward head pats.

🩹🧲 Tachihara's hugs a tight and protective. He takes his role of big brother very seriously.

🍰 Elise's hugs are sudden but soft.

💎 Karma is too shy to hug you.

⭐⭕ Kyuusaku are another sneaky hugger.

🍋 Kajii's hugs are tight but stiff. He doesn't know, how to hug.

🍛 Oda gives "dad hugs".

💰 Fitzgerald will be another one, who gives "dad hugs".

🐋 Melville will often ruffle your hair.

🐙 Lovecraft will give you even more awkward head pats.

🍇 Steinbeck likes to pick you up during hug.

☕ Lucy's hugs are gentle and warm.

🪶 Alcott is too shy, but will give you side hugs.

👒 Mitchell's hugs are soft but quick.

♊ Twain's hugs are bone-crushing.

✝️ Hawthorne prefer to give you hand pats.

😷 Pushkin will ruffle your hair.

🫖 Goncharov's hugs are careful and protective.

🐀 Fyodor will brush your hair.

🦇 Bram will let you hug him as long as you want. You can grab into him like a koala and he won't bat an eye.

⚔️ Fukuchi is another one with "bone-crushing hugs".

👧👩👵 Teruko's hugs are sudden and long.

💧 Jouno's hugs are soft and makes you feel calm.

🌸 Tetchou's hugs make you feel like you are behind a stone wall, that will protect you from any danger.

⛩️ Taneda will just pet your head.

💻 Ango's hugs are long, with him ruffling your hair.

🥷 Tsujimura's hugs are strong and secure.

🕶️ Ayatsuji will playfully scoff, while hugging you. His cats will rub against your legs.

👻 Mushitarou's hugs are awkward, but soft.

⌚ Gide will give you soft headpats.

🐉🍎🍏 Shibusawa will give you side hugs.

🐈‍⬛ Natsume will let you hug his cat form.

🤖 Adam's hugs are mechanical, but enjoyable.

👧🏻 Aya hugs you, when you two manage to win games.

🚸 Kousuke, Yuu, Katsumi, Shinji and Sakura will quickly hug you while you five are playing.

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atlabeth · 8 months

Text

(they all say that) it gets better | luke castellan

bleedin' me dry for context (this is that reader's origin story!!)

summary: a look into your unclaimed year.

a/n: does it still count as fluff if you already know it doesn’t end well? idk but i’m having fun writing for this pair so it’s okay. i hope you guys are enjoying reading them!! this ended up becoming a hell of a lot longer than i thought it would be but these kind of one shots are my faves to write lol

title from teenage dream by olivia rodrigo bc apparently guts teenage angst works very well for a demigod who feels like they're worthless and unwanted for a good period of time!! shoutout to the gods

wc: 11.4k JESUS

warning(s): fem!child of demeter reader. typical anger at the gods, but luke is actually pretty sweet! crazy. mostly hurt/comfort, reader is going through it at the beginning (mentions of injuries and almost dying), honestly she's going through it the whole time but luke is very nice to her lol. barely proofread bc proofing 34 pages is a nightmare !!

It was your first day as a demigod and you were already off to a bad start.

You didn’t remember much, obviously. There was a lot of stumbling, barely held up by your satyr as you crossed the border, and then full on collapsing. Somehow you managed to stay conscious all the way to the infirmary, enough to hear shocked murmurs from the people-like blobs around you and terrified, whispered affirmations from your satyr as he ran along with whoever was carrying you.

You didn’t remember much. But you do remember thinking what a shameful existence it would be to die at fourteen.

And now you were sitting in an uncomfortable cot, staring at the wall and counting divots. The first half of your visit was only there in flashes as you drifted in and out of consciousness, but now, unfortunately, you were fully awake. You belatedly wondered how many other kids began their camp life with a stay at the infirmary.

The thought was dashed from your head as you jolted and cried out in sudden pain, and you shot daggers with your glare at the boy next to you.

“Sorry.” The boy fixing you up was about your age, and he almost seemed to glow from within. “You dislocated your shoulder—I was popping it back into place.”

“You could have warned me,” you seethed.

“I did,” he said, and when he placed his hands on your shoulder they actually did glow. “You just weren’t listening.”

“...Sorry,” you said after a moment. “I’m having a rough day.”

He shook his head with a slight smile. “It’s expected.”

“It’ll be okay,” your satyr said, and some of the tension left your shoulders as you looked over at Tate. He’d been by your side for the past two weeks of disasters, and you’d saved each other’s lives more times than you could count. You were just thankful he didn’t have to watch you die. “Jace is one of camp’s best healers. You’re in good hands.”

You nodded, not wanting to cause any more problems, so you bit your lip and bit your tongue and let him heal the rest of your injuries in silence. He was done soon enough, and you could feel both their eyes on you as you rifled through your backpack. Thankfully, Tate brought it in as you were dying. Your own blood stained the nylon.

“How do you feel?” Tate asked anxiously.

“Better,” you said, tearing your eyes away from it as you continued making sure all your belongings were still there. “A lot better. Not like there’s much competition.”

Tate chuckled, and Jace picked up a small bag from the bedside table and handed it to you—it looked like there were little pieces of fudge inside. “Here.”

“What’s this?” you asked as you took it.

“Ambrosia,” he said. “Wait a few hours before you have a piece, and only have a little if you feel a lot of pain. I already gave you nectar while you were out, and the last thing we need is you burning up.”

You looked at Tate with raised eyebrows and he smiled a bit. “Ambrosia and nectar are the food of the gods. It heals demigods in small portions, but take too much and you’ll get a fever. Worst case scenario, you’ll literally burn up from the inside.”

“Oh,” you said, and you stuffed the bag into your pack before zipping it up. “I’ll… I’ll wait.”

“Probably a good idea,” Jace said, and he looked over at your satyr as he stood up. “I’ve gotta get back to my sword-fighting lessons. Can you give her a tour?”

He shook his head. “I have to debrief with Chiron and Mr. D. There were some… rough things on the road.” Tate looked at you. “I’ll be back in thirty minutes— are you sure you’ll be okay?”

“It’s fine,” you said with a smile. “Do your thing. I’ll look around some, then we’ll find each other later.”

Tate nodded thankfully and went through an open door opposite your bed, and Jace gave you a tight smile as he started to put away all the medical supplies he used on you. You sighed, slung your bag over your shoulder, and walked out.

You shut the door behind you and blinked rapidly as you tried to adjust to the sunlight. Then, you heard someone sigh.

“Thank the gods you’re okay.”

You turned to see a boy standing up from the wall. Dark curls hung just above his eyes, a contrast to his tanned skin, slightly red from exertion. He was wearing the same bright orange shirt that your healer was—Camp Halfblood, it said in curved text. He was far too pretty for his own good.

“I’m the one who carried you in,” he said, and you realized you were frowning. “Wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Oh,” you said. “That’s… that’s nice of you.”

“It’s been a while since we’ve gotten someone new,” he said. “Even longer since they’ve had such a dramatic entrance.”

You shrugged. You didn’t exactly know what to say to this boy. “Sorry.”

He paused for a moment, and then he nodded. “Not one for conversation. That’s fine.”

“I did almost just die,” you said wryly. “I’m fresh out of icebreakers at the moment.”

“Maybe I can help with that.” He held out his hand. “Luke Castellan. Head Counselor of the Hermes cabin, and apparent rescuer of damsels.”

You huffed a laugh as you stared at him. “I’m a damsel?”

“I’d say you were in as much distress as someone could be back there,” he said with a shrug. “I practically saved your life. I think that deserves a handshake.”

The slightest bit of tension dissolved from your shoulders and you shook his hand. His smile grew.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, dropping his hand. “You were pretty rough when I found you.”

“Better,” you said, though you grimaced a bit as you tested your shoulder, and you decided to switch your pack to your other side. “Whoever that guy in the infirmary is, he’s good.”

Luke nodded. “Son of Apollo—they’ve got healing abilities. Very useful when we’re all constantly getting injured.”

Your brows knit together. “So it really is all real.”

“You were nearly dead on our doorstep, and from those claw marks I’m guessing it wasn’t just a bad fall.” Luke offered a wry smile. “I’m sure you’ve known it’s all real for a while.”

“Of course,” you said. “It’s just weird to really know that it’s all real. To see all of you, really. Just knowing I’m not alone.”

He nodded. “That’s the best thing about it, knowing you’re not alone.” He looked around at your surroundings—various campers chatting as they walked with each other (some glancing at you as they went by), distant shouts and cheers, and a perfectly blue sky matching the perfectly blue house you just left.

“I’d say the worst thing about it is feeling like I still have no idea what’s going on,” you said. “Unless the gods exist just to be deadbeats. That’d be disappointing.”

Luke actually laughed at that, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and you found yourself smiling a bit. “I can tell we’re gonna get along.”

Your own smile returned—it was like his joy was infectious. “You think so?”

“I know so,” he nodded. “Just… try not to throw the gods’ names around like that. They don’t like to be talked about unless they’re being revered.”

You huffed. “Sounds like an interesting place.”

“Camp Halfblood,” he provided, and he gestured around you with his hand. “Keeping young heroes safe for over three millennia.”

“What,” you said wryly, “are you their PR guy?”

Luke laughed and shook his head. “It’s something Chiron likes to say.”

“You’re the second person to mention Chiron,” you said. “Who exactly is he?”

“You haven’t gotten a tour yet?”

You gave him a look. “Come on. You carried me in. You think I could have gotten a tour between then and now?”

“Fair,” he admitted, and he tilted his head. “I can give you one, if you’re so inclined.”

“I said I would wait for Tate,” you said. “He’s my satyr— I figure I owe it to him.”

“C’mon,” Luke said. “He’s meeting Chiron and Mr. D—that’ll take long enough on its own, and if we don’t get out of here soon enough, you’re gonna get dragged into a whole other conversation with them. At least this way, you can get a little bit of downtime before all the lore of this place is dropped on you.”

You bit your lip, and then you sighed and nodded. “Fine. But it can’t take too long.”

Luke smiled and held up three fingers. “Halfblood’s honor.”

You didn’t know where to start.

There were far more people than you expected, not nearly enough beds for all of them, and half were talking and a quarter were fighting and the others were just completely unfazed. All you could do when you walked in was stare.

“You get used to it,” Luke said, glancing over at you. “Everyone’s nice, I promise—just keep a hand on your pockets.”

You frowned. “Why?”

He gave you a crooked smile. “Hermes is the god of thieves. We learn by experience in this cabin.”

Your hands instinctively reached back to the pockets of your jeans, despite the fact that you hardly had anything to your name. “Why do they put the new, naive kids in here again?”

“God of travellers, too—all are welcome.” Luke saw your hand shoot to your pocket and laughed. “Don’t worry. I won’t let anyone mess with you too much—for now, at least.”

“Oh, good,” you said lightly. “The hazing doesn’t start until later.”

Luke smiled as he continued to guide you through the cabin, nodding to and greeting campers with equal parts names and handshakes as he walked past them. You got just as many stares as Luke did hellos, and your skin crawled at the attention.

“Why are they all looking at me?” you whispered to him.

“Like I said, you’re the first new camper in a while.” Luke glanced at you. “News spreads fast, especially in this wreck of a place.”

“It’s not that bad,” you said , but your grip tightened on your backpack strap. “Just very busy.”

“That’s what happens when they shove everyone in here,” Luke said. “All are welcome means all are welcome—Hermes kids, unclaimed kids, and kids of minor gods.”

You frowned. “Minor gods don’t have cabins?”

“This place is as much for us as it is in honor of the gods,” he said. “Twelve cabins for twelve Olympians. They don’t see it as a problem, therefore we can’t see it as a problem.”

You decided to bite your tongue, but you couldn’t hide your sigh. “I guess I’m gonna be here for the time being.”

He looked you up and down, and all you could think was that you must look like an absolute disaster. “I’m guessing you fall into the unclaimed.”

Your lips pressed into a thin line, a sad attempt at a smile. “Yeah, but I just got here—I bet my mom doesn’t even know it yet. Gods are busy.”

“They’re also omniscient,” Luke said wryly. “I’m sure she could have claimed you the second you crossed the border. Your parent could’ve given you a little divine intervention and kept you from nearly dying on the hill.”

“Well, I’m here for now,” you said with a bit too much force, and your nails dug into your palms. “So do you mind showing me around?”

Luke stared at you for a moment before he smiled. “‘Course not. I can also give you a quick tour of camp too, if you haven’t already gotten one.”

You shook your head. “Only the infirmary.”

“If it makes you feel any better,” he said, “you heal up well.”

“I don’t think that’s a credit to me,” you said. “I think it’s whatever magical drink that healer gave me while he was trying to bring me back. Tasted like pecan pie.”

“Nectar,” he said as he started walking, and you followed behind him. “Drink of the gods that heals demigods in small portions. It tastes like your favorite food—same as ambrosia.” He stopped in an empty corner and looked at you. “You like pecans?”

You shrugged, suddenly self conscious. “My dad makes it the best.”

“I hope you’ll be able to get the real thing soon,” he said, and then he gestured with a flourish at the same empty corner. “Welcome to your new home.”

You stared at him. “This is the floor.”

“We’re a little overbooked,” Luke said sheepishly. “If it makes you feel better, we’ve got sleeping bags. And this is a top tier corner. Quieter than the others.”

“…Great,” you said. “I feel very welcome.”

“I’m sorry.” To his credit, he sounded like he meant it. “Bunch of unclaimed kids, couple kids of minor gods, couple Hermes kids—it all kinda adds up to a mess.”

“...It’ll be better than camping,” you said, though mostly to yourself as you took your bag off your shoulder and let it thud to the ground.

“Hey,” Luke said, and his voice was softer, “it’ll be okay. With any luck, your parent’ll notice you now that you’re at camp, and you’ll be claimed before you know it.”

“I hope so,” you murmured.

“Luke, who’s the new girl?”

A boy with curls just as good as Luke’s walked up and clapped him on the back, smiling at you in a way that instantly set you at ease. He also wore the orange camp shirt, with long tan sleeves below that he’d pushed up to his forearms. He had kind eyes.

Luke said your name, his own smirk on his lips as he looked back at you. “You’ve probably heard about her dramatic entrance by now, but she’s the newest resident of the Hermes cabin.”

“Unclaimed or your sibling?” he asked.

“...Unclaimed,” you said yourself. You hadn’t even been here for more than two hours and it already felt like your own brand of shame.

He repeated your name with a nod and held out his hand. “I’m Chris,” he said. “Fellow unclaimed kid.”

A little bit less of a scarlet letter, at least. You swallowed your budding insecurity and shook his hand. “Sounds like a shitty club to be in.”

He snorted. “You’re telling me.”

“How— how long has it been?” you asked hesitantly, almost afraid to know the answer.

His lips pressed into a tight smile. “Couple years.”

“Gods,” you murmured. You didn’t know if you’d be able to wait that long. It had been hard enough already growing up without one—if your mother was just out of reach after all this time, you would surely lose your mind.

“Don’t worry,” Chris said, his expression softening a bit. “It won’t take that long for you. I can tell.”

“That’s what Luke said,” you responded wryly. “Do I give off a vibe that says ‘I’m unwanted, but not for too long’?”

Luke laughed and shook his head. “I promise, it’s all gonna be okay. I’ve been the counselor here for a couple months—kids get claimed all the time. I bet you’re next on the list.”

“Maybe,” you said. You didn’t believe it as much as they did—if they did at all.

You heard the door open and your head automatically turned to the noise, and you felt the heat rush to your cheeks in embarrassment as Tate came through, slightly out of breath. You stared at Luke—he said thirty minutes at least. He just shrugged.

“I figured you would be here,” Tate said, his chest rising and falling just so as he walked—trotted?—inside. “You didn’t exactly wait.”

You opened your mouth to speak up, but Luke beat you, already putting on a charming smile. “Sorry. We got to talking, and then I offered to show her around the Hermes cabin. Just so she could put her things down, y’know.”

“‘Course,” Tate nodded. “That— that was probably a good idea. Would have been bad if you got lost or something.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, and you went to pick your bag up. “Luke said you would be talking for a lot longer— I was going to come back after I was done with this.”

Tate shook his head. That nervous energy from the worst parts of the road was back, and you wondered how badly the talk with Chiron and Mr. D went. “No, it was a good idea. Better than you getting lost around camp or caught up with some troublemakers. Thanks, Luke.”

“‘Course,” he said.

“Not sure she’s in much better hands with Luke,” Chris said wryly. “He’s head troublemaker in the cabin of troublemakers.”

Luke just chuckled and shook his head. “It’s her first day. I wouldn’t let anything happen to her.”

You were only able to glance at Luke for a moment before your attention was drawn back to Tate as he gestured outside with his head. “Chiron’s waiting outside. He wants to talk to you some before the tour.”

And now you had to deal with it too. “...Great,” you said. You set your bag back on the ground, in your newly coveted corner.

“It’ll be fine,” Tate promised. “You already went through Hades to get here— he’s not gonna pile on you more. That’s why Mr. D is back at the Big House.”

This time, you did look at Luke. Thankfully, he understood.

“Dionysus,” he explained. “He’s our camp director.”

You blinked. “The god?”

“Yep,” he nodded. “Punishment from Zeus. Not the worst gig, but he’s… interesting.”

“Great,” you repeated, because you didn’t feel like processing that at the moment, and you looked back at Tate. “You’ll be with me, right?”

He nodded. “Not for the talk, but for the tour.”

You let out a loose breath, because it was going to be fine. He was just the authority figure of the one safe place in the world for you, and you were just an annoying kid that had no idea what the hell was going on.

“Great,” you said for the third time. You looked back at Luke. “I’ll see you around?”

He smiled and bowed his head. “Definitely. You do kinda live here indefinitely now.”

You nodded, more relieved than you wanted to show, and you started following Tate out.

You heard Chris mutter something to Luke, and you turned your head in time to see Luke jab him in the side. His head perked up when you laughed, and his whole expression changed as his smile returned and he did a little wave.

You couldn’t help but smile back as you did the same, and you left the cabin with a little pep in your step.

—

“You promise you’ll be safe.”

“Yes, Tate,” you said with a slight laugh. “The worst is already over—you got me here, and we’re both alive. I’m gonna be fine.”

“I know,” he said, and he managed his own smile. “I’m just worried about you. You don’t spend two weeks on the road fighting for your life with someone and not get a little attached.”

“You’ll be back here, right?” you asked. “I know your whole thing as a Protector, but you’ve gotta drop the demigods off too, right?”

“Of course I’ll be back,” he promised. “It… just might be a while. You’re the third demigod I’ve gotten to camp safely, now—Chiron’s trusting me with a bigger mission. It might be a couple months, but I’ll be back.”

“And you’re telling me to be safe,” you said wryly.

“I’ve been doing this for a while,” he said. “You just got here.”

“I know,” you said, and you pulled him into a hug. “Just don’t get killed out there.”

Tate laughed and patted you on the back before he pulled away. “So long as you don’t killed out here.”

“Thanks for everything,” you said with a nod.

“Thank you,” he said, and he gestured at the pavilion with his head. “Now get over there and make some friends. I’ll see you around.”

You hugged him one last time before you reluctantly went off, and you looked back to wave him goodbye before you really started on your way.

Your head still spun with all the information Chiron and Tate had imparted on you—so much about Greek mythology (and how it was all real), ADHD and dyslexia (and how they weren’t just there to make your life harder), your godly parent (who would hopefully claim you within the month) and so much more that you knew you would forget in an hour or two.

And Chiron’s talk. God, it felt more like you were in the principal’s office than anything, even though he was nothing but kind. You couldn’t help but be overwhelmed from it all, and though the talk was probably meant to stave some of that anxiety off, it really didn’t.

But you’d always felt out of place all your life. And now you were finally where you were meant to belong—that had to count for something.

Tate had dropped you off at the pavilion—nearly dying had taken a lot out of you, and it just happened to be lunch—and just as you neared the tables and realized you had no idea where to sit, your eyes were drawn to a boy raising his hand and calling your name.

You looked over and saw that it was Luke, the counselor from earlier, and you couldn’t help but smile. True to his word.

You weaved your way through various campers and around tables full of kids to finally stop next to Luke’s table—Chris, the guy from earlier, sat across from him, and they both smiled at you.

“How’d the tour go?” he asked.

“Fine,” you said with a nod. “A little overwhelming, but better than I thought.” You pulled at your new camp shirt, the fabric noticeably brighter than a majority of those around you. “I match now, at least.”

“Orange suits you,” Luke remarked, and he patted the open spot next to him. “Sit down—stay for a while.”

You chuckled as you sat down. You still felt out of place, but at least they weren’t going to hang you out to dry. “Bright orange seems like an odd choice when we’re trying to stay hidden.”

“Probably so Chiron doesn’t lose us,” he joked. “This place is huge, and there’s a lot of us. When the newest camper gets turned around in the woods during capture the flag and nearly dies to a monster, it’s easier to find them.”

You frowned, and you must’ve not been very good at hiding your panic because Chris shook his head.

“Luke, you’re scaring her. She’s already been through enough.”

“Don’t worry,” Luke said, patting you on the shoulder. “Just a little halfblood humor. You’re gonna be fine, I promise.”

“It doesn’t feel that way,” you said wryly. “It feels like I nearly died four hours ago and now I have no idea who anyone is or what to do.”

“Not true,” Chris spoke up, and he smiled. “You know us.”

“I’ll look out for you,” Luke promised. “And pretty soon, you’re gonna be good enough to look out for me.”

You let out a long lasting sigh. “God, I hope so.”

—

“You’re not holding it right.”

You adjusted your hold on the hilt, resisting the urge to wipe away the bead of sweat dripping down your forehead and the even stronger urge to hit him.

“You’re still not holding it right.”

Your teeth grinded together as you turned to look at Luke. “Are you gonna actually help me, or just stand there judgmentally?”

“I dunno,” he said. “The weather’s pretty good over here.”

You groaned and moved your non-dominant hand closer to the pommel, shifting your other down as well. “Is this worthy of your approval, Your Majesty?”

Luke chuckled as he walked over to you, and you could feel the calluses on his hands as he adjusted your form with slight touches to your arms. “It is acceptable, my lady, but your posture is not.”

“I don’t know how so many people at this camp like you,” you grumbled. “This is awful, and so are you.”

He smiled. “You’ve been here for two weeks. Give yourself some grace.”

“I’ve spent one of those trying and failing at the most basic basics of sword-fighting,” you said. “I spent the past hour losing to an Ares kid who I’m pretty sure actually wanted to kill me.” You looked over at Luke. “Thanks for that, by the way.”

“Trial by fire,” he supplied. “You’re still alive, so obviously you’re doing something right.”

“Yeah, probably because you’re here,” you said. “You can’t just kill someone when their counselor’s standing right next to them. It’s bad publicity.”

Luke huffed a laugh and shook his head as he crossed his arms. “Stop talking down on yourself. You managed to make it here with a couple monster attacks on the way—what’d you use then?”

“I started off with a screwdriver I stole from the garage before Tate and I left,” you said. “And then I stole a hunting knife from some outdoor store. Not exactly top-tier.”

“Lotta stealing,” Luke chuckled. “Maybe you are a Hermes kid.”

“They nearly caught me,” you said. “Definitely not.”

“Regardless of thievery, you still survived,” he continued. “You’re not a bonafide swordsman, that’s fine. But you’re resourceful, creative—scrappy in a fight is just what we need sometimes.”

“Great,” you mumbled. “I’m ‘scrappy’.”

“It’s a compliment,” he promised. “If we were all sword-fighters, we wouldn’t get far. Someone like you is gonna do us a lot of good.”

“If I don’t die before I even get out to the battlefield.” You knocked the helmet off of one of the straw dummies with your sword and sighed as it clattered to the ground. “This is the only enemy I stand a chance against.”

“You’re thinking too much about it all,” Luke said. “You’re literally wired for battle—didn’t you feel it during your fights on the way to camp?”

You shrugged. You guess you did—you remember not even taking the time to analyze the situation, just knowing your lives were in danger and finally feeling the ever-present jitters in your bones settle for the first time.

“It was rough,” you finally said. “But… it did feel like I knew what I was doing. Like my body understood it all even when my mind was still a couple steps behind.”

“And that was without training, and with,” Luke huffed an incredulous laugh, “a screwdriver. Just imagine what you’ll be able to do with actual Celestial bronze and actual training.”

“…I think I remember why people like you,” you said reluctantly. “And why I liked you.”

Luke grinned as he stood up. “That’s the spirit.” He picked up the fallen helmet and placed it back on the dummy, then looked at you. “I think I’ve put you through enough suffering. Let’s get lunch.”

“So a compliment was all it took for me to get out of this?” you asked in exasperation, gesturing with your sword as you worked to undo the ties on your armor with your other hand.

“Exactly,” he mused, and he took the sword from you to store it away. “I don’t get nearly enough compliments these days, y’know. Sometimes you end up taking that out on campers that don’t know how to swordfight.”

“Luke Castellan,” you grumbled as you finally got your breastplate off, “you are a piece of work.”

He winked. “Thank you.”

—

You didn’t think you were built for this life.

It was the only thought running through your head as you sat at a crowded Hermes table, absentmindedly picking at fruit with your fork as you stared off into the distance.

You’d been at Camp Halfblood for a month now, but it had already felt like a lifetime.

You’d managed to make a few friends—a Demeter girl who grew you a bouquet of your favorite flowers as a consolation prize for fighting dirty during training; an Athena boy who told you whatever interesting fact popped into his head first every time you ran into each other; the Hebe girl who had the misfortune to have the corner opposite you in the Hermes cabin and showed you skincare tips once in a while.

Throw in a smattering of Hermes and unclaimed kids and a counselor that seemed determined to make you smile, and you weren’t as lonely as you thought you’d be.

You were learning how to fight in your own way. Luke was right—you weren’t a swordsman, but you were damn good up close and personal. He’d taken you to the camp armory, you found a Celestial bronze dagger that spoke to you, and from then on you’d actually been doing well in training.

Your corner of the Hermes cabin didn’t feel as sad anymore, either. Luke took you to the camp store for retail therapy after you nearly burned your jeans off on the climbing wall, so now you had an AC/DC poster (courtesy of the little money you had) and an I ❤️ NY keychain to attach to your backpack (courtesy of Luke’s idle hands).

You were starting to come into your own, sure. You were doing better in training and making friends in the cabin you were stuck in and starting to get used to burning part of every meal, but the most glaring issue of all still hadn’t been resolved.

You still hadn’t been claimed.

And maybe it shouldn’t have been such an issue for you, but how could you not feel shitty? How could you see all the different tables and all the different kids talking and smiling and joking with each other that had parents who cared enough to at least claim them, and not feel unworthy?

Because you did. You felt unworthy, and it didn’t matter how many times you took your sparring partner down or bested the climbing wall or actually hit the bullseye at archery practice—your mother didn’t think you were good enough, so neither did you.

“How’re you doin’, Berkeley?”

You frowned. You didn’t have to look up to know it was Luke as he sat down next to you. “What?”

“Did you not hear me?” he asked, but you were already shaking your head.

“Berkeley,” you repeated, finally glancing at him. “That’s not my name.”

Luke shrugged. “I dunno what to tell you. You’re unclaimed. UC. University of California—first one I think of for you is Berkeley.”

You were staring now. “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, I’ve got tons of UCs. I’ve gotta keep track of them all somehow,” Luke said, and he pointed at campers both at your table and walking around as he talked. “That’s LA, Irvine, Davis—the others aren’t here, but you get the gist.” He looked back at you. “Been savin’ Berkeley for someone special.”

“Oh gods,” you said, horrified. “I’ve got to get claimed.”

One of the girls at the table—Irvine?—rolled her eyes as she stood up and flicked Luke on the head. “Be nice,” she said before walking away. All he did was smile.

“Maybe give it to someone else,” you said. “I don’t feel special.”

Luke’s brows creased. “If you don’t like it—”

“It’s fine,” you said. “The name doesn’t bother me. The reason I have it does.”

His eyes softened as he said your actual name. “It’s only been a month. You’ve still got plenty of time.”

You looked across at the Hebe girl you’d become friends with—Marisol, if you remembered right—and hoped that your eyes didn’t show the desperation you felt. “How long did it take for you?”

She offered a sympathetic smile. “Six months. But it probably won’t be that long for you.”

“That’s what everyone keeps saying,” you mumbled. But it had been a month, and you hadn’t gotten a single sign.

“Because it’s true,” Luke urged. “Whoever your mom is will notice you—you’ve been killing it lately.”

“Really,” you said flatly, “I’ve been killing it.”

“Yes,” he said. “You don’t know it because you’ve only got your own experience—you went from nearly dead on our doorstep to taking down most of your opponents.”

“In training,” you said.

“That still counts!” Luke exclaimed. “Y’know, you’re holding yourself back. You’re incredible, but you’re the only one that seems to not notice it.”

“And my—”

“Do not say your mom,” he said, pointing a finger at you. “We’re not talking about the gods right now, we’re talking about you. And you, Bee, are killing it.”

That gave you pause. “Bee?”

“I’m trying to get you back up and you focus on the nickname?” Luke asked wryly.

“Just explain it,” you said.

“Bee shortened from Berkeley,” he said. “Not fully unclaimed, but still something special.”

God, you hated him. You’d been feeling shitty for a majority of your month here, but he always managed to make you smile.

“Sure,” you said.

“And a little annoying,” he added, earning himself a jab in the side as he laughed, “with a bit of a sting.”

“Aren’t you just so clever?” you mused, though you couldn’t help your smile widening.

“It’s in my genes,” he said proudly.

For the rest of a less than exciting lunch, Luke kept you occupied. Whether it was stories of his life before camp, or the couple of months that earned him counselor before you got here, or getting the other campers at the Hermes table to talk about themselves, he made sure you didn’t get a chance to spiral.

By the end, your face hurt from smiling

As you finished cleaning up, Marisol turned to you. “Me and a couple other girls were gonna go play volleyball—do you wanna come with us?”

“Yeah,” you said, and your smile grew. “Yeah, I’d love to. Thanks.”

“‘Course!” she exclaimed, and she linked arms with you. “I’d be a fool not to get you on my team after you took down Liam yesterday.”

She continued to talk as she pulled you along, and you looked back at Luke. He chuckled and gave you a thumbs up. “Go get ‘em, Bee!”

You gave him one back, and as you turned back to Marisol, you found that you couldn’t stop smiling.

—

It was two in the morning and you couldn’t stop crying.

You finally had a mattress against your back, and however stiff it was, it was better than the floor. A decent amount of kids got claimed over the past month, and half the cabin left after the summer was over, so you finally had the privilege of a bunk—thankfully, Marisol did too, and she was below you.

At least, until the summer-only campers that all the Hermes kids liked more than you returned. Then it was back to the floor.

Unless you got claimed before then. But that was less likely than being able to muster some good will from your cabin mates.

Because it was embarrassing, truly. You’d been at camp for four months now, and you hadn’t even gotten a single goddamn peep from whoever your mother might be. You just woke up every day on the floor, moseyed about a camp that still didn’t feel like home, burned offerings to a god that didn't want you, and went back to sleep on the floor.

And now you were crying in a bed that was barely even yours and it was two in the morning and you were wondering if it would have just been better for you to die on the road to camp the first time, because at least then your mother might have actually paid attention to you.

“Hey.”

And now you were really wishing you’d died because you’d woken someone up and they’re just gonna hate you more—

“Are you okay?”

You finally turned your head from where it had been buried in a pillow, a laissez-faire attempt to suffocate yourself or maybe just muffle the noise, and you saw Luke Castellan. Counselor of a cabin of thieves, vagabonds, and rejects, and maybe the only person that you didn’t want to see you like this. All that good will, the unearned faith you’d accumulated—this was the easiest way to lose it. His eyebrows were creased, and his whisper held what sounded like concern, but he was required to be concerned.

You nodded, still not moving, still not speaking. Tears rolled down your cheeks and stained the bed sheet.

“You’re gonna have to be a little more believable than that, Bee,” Luke murmured.

“No, I don’t,” you whispered back.

You got the tiniest huff of a laugh out of him, and he gestured towards the closed door with his head. “Wanna take a second?”

“It’s past curfew,” you mumbled.

“And you’re miserable,” Luke said. “You can’t feel any worse getting eaten by harpies than you do now.”

Still, you stared at him.

“It’ll be okay,” he promised. “Right outside the cabin. Harpies won’t even know.”

You rubbed a hand across your face, coming away wet with tears, and you realized that he wasn’t just going to leave you like this. So you got up as quietly as you could, careful not to disturb your bunkmates, and followed Luke. He pushed the door open and shut so quietly you wondered how many times he’s snuck out.

The cold air was sobering, and you wiped away more tears before wrapping your arms around yourself. Camp Half-Blood was always supposed to have perfect weather, but you guess not even they were immune to November nights.

“So,” Luke started, and in your peripherals you could see him leaning against the side of the cabin. You could feel his gaze on you, and you just stared off into the distance.

“So,” you repeated.

“You wanna tell me why you’re crying in the middle of the night?” he asked.

“Not really,” you said, because it felt ridiculous that a boy your age was acting like he’s ten years your elder.

Luke chuckled and tipped his head. “Fair. You want to say anything at all?”

“I’m sorry for waking you up.”

He shook his head. “I was already up. I’m a light sleeper.”

“Seems rough in a cabin like this,” you said.

“I’ve gotten used to it,” he said. “Did you have a nightmare?”

You frowned, because now it really felt like he was babying you. Luke must have caught on, because he laughed a bit and shook his head.

“Demigods have… extremely vivid dreams,” he said. “Typically horrific nightmares. Sometimes prophetic.”

Your frown deepened. “That’s awful.”

Luke shrugged. “It’s just the way it is. The gods can’t interfere in mortal affairs, so I guess it’s their way of letting us know what’s wrong.”

You shook your head with a sigh. “No nightmares, thankfully. Just… feeling overwhelmed.”

“About what?” he asked. “I told you you’ve been doing great.”

“It doesn’t matter how many times you say it,” you said wryly. “It doesn’t mean I believe it.”

“There’s no reason you shouldn’t,” he asserted.

You huffed a laugh. “It’s been four months, Luke. Four months since I got here after nearly dying in five different states, and I don’t even know who’s responsible for it.”

“Ah,” Luke said. “The unclaimed thing.”

“Yeah,” you said wryly. “I guess you could call it that.”

“Sorry,” he said, and he shook his head. “It’s a bigger deal than that, I know.”

“Maybe it isn’t,” you said. “There’s at least six other kids in there dealing with the same thing as I am, and none of them are waking up their counselor in the middle of the night with their tears.”

“Don’t talk about yourself like that,” Luke said with surprising conviction. “Like your feelings aren’t valid. Because they are.”

You crossed your arms. “Doesn’t seem like it.”

“They are,” he insisted. “A— and you’re not bothering me. We’re friends, and we help each other. I care about you, y’know.”

“I never said I was bothering you,” you said wryly.

“You thought it,” Luke said. “I know you did.”

“...Maybe.” You sighed and shook your head as you looked out at the stars. They really were beautiful here. “I just can’t help but be bitter about all this, and I feel so shitty about it.”

“Would it make you feel better to know you’re not the only one that thinks that?” he asked.

“A little, yeah.” You glanced at him. “No one else seems too bothered that their parents are never around.”

“Most of them have accepted that it’s just the way it is,” he said. “Doesn’t mean you have to.”

“Have you?”

Luke sighed after a moment of reluctance. “I… I have a complicated relationship with my dad because he was around. It was almost… worse to know him, and then to have him leave.”

“It’s better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all,” you quoted.

“I don’t know about that,” Luke murmured. “But it certainly helps to talk about it.”

You glanced over to see him gazing off into the distance, a look in his eye that you couldn’t quite place. This was the most he’d ever talked about his past to you, you realized—and it still wasn’t much.

“When were you claimed?” you asked after a moment of contemplation.

Luke shrugged. “I never really had to be. Hermes stayed with my mom for a year after I was born, and she told me who he was when I was a little older. I’ve known basically my whole life—he had no reason not to claim me as soon as I got to camp.”

“So you’re saying my dad could be keeping secrets from me too,” you said.

“He might not know,” Luke said. “A lot of times, they don’t talk about it. Sometimes, we don’t find out until a monster’s trying to kill us on a field trip.”

You huffed. “What a great existence we’ve been blessed with.”

Luke smiled, though it was tighter than usual. He let out a deep breath, then fully turned to you.

“Do you have your dagger with you?”

You frowned. “It’s under my pillow. Why?”

“Under your—” Luke stared for a moment before he laughed and shook his head. “A little paranoid?”

You shrugged. “You said it yourself. You’re a cabin of thieves.”

“True,” he admitted. “How’d you like to get some of this emotion out?”

“We’re sneaking out even more?”

“It’ll be fine,” Luke promised.

“You always say that,” you said. “Eventually, it’s not gonna be true.”

He laughed and gestured at the door. “Get your dagger. We’re gonna make this a very bad night for some mannequins.”

“Maybe this wasn’t a good idea.”

You huffed as you ripped your dagger out of the dummy, a few strands of straw coming out of the new hole you’d torn in its forehead, and wiped the sweat off your forehead. “Are you kidding? This was a great idea.”

“Not this part,” he said. “The ‘being alone with you during a rage’ part.”

“I’m not in a rage,” you muttered as you slashed at the breastplate, “I’m blowing off steam.”

Luke hummed. “And you thought you weren’t a good fighter.”

You stabbed at the armor again then rammed your fist into its head, and you took a step back as the mannequin thudded to the ground. “I guess I just need to think about my mom before I go into battle.”

“Y’know, Bee,” Luke said, “you scare me sometimes.”

You shook your head, wiping your blade on your night shirt to get any debris off as you turned around. “You’re really gonna stick with that?”

“I told you I’d stop if you didn’t like it.”

“It’s not that. I just…” You sighed and shook your head again. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it does.” Luke crossed his arms. “Everything you have to say matters.”

“Not if I say it doesn’t,” you countered, and you looked at him. “Who do you think it could be?”

“Your parent?” he asked. You nodded.

“Definitely not Apollo,” Luke said. “You’re way too dreary to be a kid of the god of the sun.”

“Gee,” you said dryly, “thanks.”

Luke shrugged. “You asked.”

“Well— who else?” You picked the dummy back up and dusted the armor off. “Athena, maybe? I’m smart.”

“Not smart enough to not be out past curfew with me,” he said.

“You suggested this,” you scoffed. “And I definitely needed it. If we get caught, I’m blaming you.”

“And why do you think that would work?” he asked, amused.

“You’re the camp’s golden boy,” you said. “I doubt you’d get in much trouble.”

“Sure, sure,” he said, nodding. “Or you just think I’m good enough to talk my way out of it.”

You tilted your head. “That too.”

“I never thought Ares before,” Luke chuckled, “but after all this, I think you might have it in you.”

“God, I hope not. Priya hates me.”

“She doesn’t hate you,” Luke said. “She just tried to kill you that one time.”

“And that other time during capture the flag,” you said. “She’s out for blood, Luke.”

He chuckled and shook his head. “She always is. She’s probably already moved onto her next victim.”

“I hope so.”

“Maybe Aphrodite?” he suggested. “You’re awfully pretty.”

You rolled your eyes. “Flattery will get you nowhere.”

“It’s not flattery if it’s true,” Luke corrected.

You huffed a laugh but couldn’t help the slightest smile as you shook your head. “It’s not Tyche, at least. I have the worst luck.”

“Maybe you’re a Big Three kid,” he said. “How do you feel about the sky?”

“I like it,” you said.

“The ocean?”

“Not so much.”

“And the darkness?”

You huffed a dry laugh. “I’m not a Big Three kid, Luke. Even I know that.”

“No, you don’t,” he said. “You can never know for sure until you’re claimed.”

“If I was, I would be the biggest disappointment,” you said, looking at your reflection in your dagger. “Breaking their pact for a kid that can barely fight.”

“Why do you always do that?”

Luke’s voice had lost the joking edge from before, and when you glanced over at him, he was frowning.

“Do what?”

“You always put yourself down,” he said. “You don’t even give yourself a chance to believe that you’ll be great, or that you’ll succeed—you’re just a coward, or a failure, or worthless at the first bump in the road.”

“Luke—”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I need you to understand that you are so, so much more than whatever that shitty voice in your head says.”

You went silent. Any words you could have even said stuck in your throat.

“This is not an easy life,” Luke asserted. “We’re thrown into an ocean before we know how to swim, and we have to find the shore all on our own or die trying. We—” he laughed, but there was no heart in it— “we’ve got our parents above us that could guide us, could save us, but most of the time they refuse to even acknowledge us. And we’ve got every single goddamn obstacle in the way trying to kill us.”

He inclined his head towards you. “But in spite of all that, you’re alive. You’re still here. You’re pushing through everything in your path, and you are still fucking here. Do you get that?”

“…I’m still here,” you repeated, and your hands clenched into fists. It had never felt more right to have your dagger in your hand.

Luke nodded resolutely. “And you’ve got a couple lifeboats to help along the way.”

“You mean it?” Your voice came out softer than you thought, in stark contrast to the stiffness of your bones, but you felt like a kid all over again.

“With all my heart,” he promised. “For as long as you’re here, I’ll be here.”

Your throat tightened, and the telltale beginnings of tears pricked behind your eyes. This time, when you spoke, your voice was little more than a whisper. “Thank you.”

“Always,” he said. “And I mean that.”

You nodded, maybe a few too many times, and cleared your throat as you looked back at your dagger. “It’s late. We should get back before we actually get in trouble.”

Luke nodded too, and he helped you move the dummy back into place. You hated how your heart jumped into your throat when your hands brushed for the barest moment, but thankfully, he didn’t seem to notice.

“Thank you for this.” You played with your hands as Luke finished putting everything else away—extra insurance to make sure no one knew you were here—and only managed to make eye contact just as he looked at you. “It… it really helped.” More than he knew, you were sure.

Luke smiled, and he offered you his arm. “Always.”

You took it, ignoring the heat in your cheeks. “Just… don’t tell anyone about the crying.”

He chuckled as you started walking together. “After the way you’ve been handling that dagger? I’d be a fool.“

“Luke,” you groaned, “this is awful.”

“You were the one who said you wanted to spend time with me,” he said, giving you a crooked smile. “Spending time with me after the worst cabin inspection ever means cleaning the place head to toe for our next one.”

“Is skipping dinner really worth it though?” you asked as you scooped up a pile of dirty clothes and tossed it into the basket between you two.

“It’s the only time this place is completely empty,” he said. “I told you I could handle it alone—you’re the one that insisted on helping.”

“Maybe I do want to be a Big Three kid,” you grumbled. “At least I’d only be cleaning up my own mess.”

“You’d also have the wrath of the gods and every monster in the world to deal with,” he said.

You shook your head. “A small price to pay for a clean cabin.”

“And then you wouldn’t get to see me when you wake up every day,” he mused. “A much bigger price to pay.”

You huffed as you dropped to your knees, reaching under a bed to grab a stray camp tee. “Keep talking, pretty boy. It won’t clean the floors.”

Luke grinned. “You think I’m pretty?”

“I think you’ve got the messiest cabin in the world,” you said. “We’ve gotten the lowest rating every day for the past two weeks. I’ve been here for seven months now, and I don’t think we’ve ever gotten a full five.”

“Which is why you’re helping me!” he said. “Because you’re as sick of scrubbing the pegasi stables as I am.”

“You’re the counselor here!” you exclaimed. “You’ve gotta whip your siblings into shape.”

Luke gestured at you. “You’re basically my co-counselor. It’s just as much your responsibility.”

“And just what makes you think that?” you marveled.

“You’re the person in the cabin I like the most,” he said, “and we spend a lot of time together. That’s enough to make you my partner.”

“My stuff is always clean,” you said. “It’s you and the rest of the Hermes kids that’ve gotten us stuck in the stables and the kitchens every afternoon. Not me.”

You started remaking the unmade bed—would it kill any of the Hermes kids to make theirs right after they got up?—and shook your head. “It’s just not fair. Aphrodite’s cabin is basically Barbie’s Dreamhouse, and Demeter kids can grow plants to make it all pretty. We’ve just got a cabin of slobs.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, but when you glanced at him, you saw he was smiling. “It’ll all be fine.”

“You always say that.” You got the fitted sheet into all the corners then looked at him full-on. “Even when it’s not about something as stupid as laundry. How do you know?”

Luke shrugged as he nudged a ladder to a top bunk back into place. “I don’t. I just hope for the best.”

“How do you do that?” you asked. “How does anyone here do that? I feel like I’m the most pessimistic person here.”

“Every single one of us is an anomaly,” Luke said. “Freaks of nature. By all accounts of logic, we shouldn’t exist. But we do. All of mythology does. And when we have to literally fight for our lives for every single day, it doesn’t do much good to sweat the small stuff.”

“All I do is sweat the small stuff,” you grumbled, and you stretched your back out before you continued. “D’you think they’ll get annoyed that we just pooled all their laundry together again?”

“Nah,” Luke said. “If they didn’t want to have to pick all their stuff out after we so graciously do the laundry for them, they would keep their things clean in the first place.”

You chuckled and shook your head as you finished laying out the sorry excuse for a comforter—it would end up on the floor five seconds into the night, but Sisyphus and the boulder and all that—and sat down on the fruits of your labor. “I think this mess is the one thing I won’t miss when I get claimed.”

“You’re not as down about that as you used to be,” Luke noted.

“You know how they say a watched pot never boils?”

He actually laughed at that as he leaned against a bed post. “If you don’t care, you’ll get claimed faster?”

You shrugged. “Nothing else has worked. And like you said—don’t sweat the small stuff, right?”

“Like you said— all you do is sweat the small stuff.”

“Maybe I’m gonna try and turn over a new leaf,” you mused.

“I think that would be good for you,” he said. “You’ve been happier lately. It’s good to see you happy.”

“You’ve been watching?” you asked wryly.

Luke smiled. “You know I always am.”

You ignored the warmth stirring in your chest as you shrugged. “I’ve spent way too much time this year being sad over things I can’t control. Might as well start focusing on the things I can.”

“And to think,” he mused, “this is the same girl that wanted nothing to do with me when we first talked.”

“Oh, please,” you said dryly, “I’ve always wanted something to do with you.”

“And you still understand that flattery gets you everywhere,” Luke said with a grin. He pushed himself up and held out his hand. “C’mon—this place is clean enough. I think if we run, we can still make dinner.”

“Think we’ll get in trouble for partially skipping?” you asked as you stood up and took his hand, swinging your intertwined hands a bit as you walked together.

Luke chuckled as he pushed the door open and you walked out. “After the work we did here? We should be hailed as saints.”

“Luke,” you whispered.

His eyes shot wide open as he jolted up, and you had to stifle your laugh at his bewildered expression before he realized it was you.

He said your name groggily, rubbing his eyes as he kept himself propped up with his other arm. “What d’you need?”

“The stars,” you said. “They’re beautiful tonight.”

“So are you,” he mumbled. “You don’t see me waking you up in the middle of the night to tell you that.”

“Luke,” you said, but you couldn’t help your smile. “On topic.”

“The stars,” he said, barely nodding in his addled state. “Good for them. I’m going back to sleep now.”

“No, Luke—” you laughed softly and took his hand. “Come stargazing with me.”

He closed his eyes, but he didn’t take his hand away. “You’re insane.”

“Please,” you said. “I could never see the stars at home, not like this. They’re brighter than I’ve ever seen.”

“It’s so late,” he complained. “Can we do it in the morning?”

“Do you know what stargazing is?” you asked, amused.

“Hey, lovebirds.” The annoyed, tired voice of a camper rang out as they hit the wall. “Take it outside so we can sleep.”

Again, you had to bite back a laugh. Luke looked like he was holding back a groan, but he got up anyway, rubbing the grogginess out of his eyes. You moved to the door as quietly as possible, and you waited until he joined you on the small porch.

“Thank you,” you said, hearing the door close, “and sorry.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Luke covered up his yawn as he held a jacket out for you. “Put this on. I’m not gonna be responsible for you getting a cold because you want to stargaze in February.”

Your eyebrows rose as you took it. “Is this yours?”

“Don’t think too much into it,” he said, but he had the slightest smile on his lips. “You wanna see the stars, right? Let’s see ‘em.”

“Not here,” you said, shaking your head as you zipped up the maroon hoodie. You held out your hand once you finished. “Do you trust me?”

“Oh, gods,” he muttered, running a hand through his messy hair. “We’re doing a trust exercise too?”

“I’ll take that as a yes,” you remarked. You took his hand and started dragging him along, a clear spot in mind.

“You’re kidding me,” he said in exasperation. “I thought we were just gonna look at the sky for a couple minutes— you’re taking me to a second destination?”

“Hey,” you said, “don’t sweat the small stuff.”

“Oh, I can’t wait to use that on the harpies when they catch us and eat us,” Luke said offhandedly. “‘I’m sorry, ma’am—we’re really trying not to sweat the small stuff.’”

You laughed as you continued on your way, and out of the corner of your eye you could see Luke smiling too, despite himself. Suddenly, though, his grip tightened on your hand and he pulled you behind one of the thicker columns of the pavilion.

“Wh—”

He shook his head then gestured with it to the other side of the pavilion. One of the harpies—Aello, if you remembered correctly from Chris’s rant the past week about cleaning dishes—was walking past, muttering things to herself.

“Speak of the devil,” you marveled. You definitely weren’t a child of Tyche.

Luke gave you a look that quite clearly said be quiet, and for some reason that only made you want to laugh more. He must have seen that glint in your eye that he’d grown used to, because he placed his hand over your mouth right before the dam was about to burst.

You squeezed his hand tight as you tried to keep yourself from blowing your cover while Luke occupied himself with actually watching to make sure your path would clear. You were pressed right up against each other, and even through the jacket, even in the cold, you could feel his body warmth. He did say he ran hot.

Eventually, Luke let out a labored sigh and let his hand drop, and you wheezed, nearly doubling over.

“There is something wrong with you,” he said. He was barely able to hold back his own amusement.

“Oh my god,” you breathed, “that was awful.”

“That was your fault!” he exclaimed.

“How was it my fault?” you argued. “You’re the counselor here—you’re meant to be the responsible one!”

“I was being responsible!” Luke laughed again as he ran his hand through his hair then used it to gesture at you. “You were the one that nearly got us caught—you were the one who wanted to be out here in the first place!”

“Right,” you said, pointing your finger, “we gotta get to the beach.”

“Stargazing on the beach,” Luke marveled. “Definitely worth nearly getting eaten.”

“Oh, shut up,” you said as you continued to pull him along. “You could’ve said no.”

He squeezed your hand for a moment. “We both know I can never say no to you.”

Once you got to the beach you let go of his hand and laid down, taking care not to get sand in your sneakers. Luke sat down next to you but stayed up, watching the tide go in and out.

At night, without a hundred campers running around making all the noise they can, you actually felt like you could breathe.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” It almost felt wrong to break the sacred silence, to insert yourself in the ambiance of nature working together in all its glory.

“Yeah.” Luke’s voice was softer than usual, that rough edge you’d grown used to absent in the face of calmer seas. “Yeah. It’s…”

“Serene,” you suggested.

“Beautiful,” he said. When you glanced at him, he was already looking at you.

“Very smooth,” you said wryly. “Now stop flirting and look at the stars.”

Luke chuckled lightly as he let himself fall back. His hand bumped yours as he adjusted his position, and your breath caught in your throat for the barest moment. You moved it away.

The two of you laid there together in silence gazing at the stars for what felt like forever. The gentle waves coming to shore then leaving, the scattering of sand from quiet winds, and not a single angry car horn or police siren.

You missed home, the city. You were headstrong in your belief that Detroit was better than New York. But gods—sometimes, you just couldn’t beat camp.

You didn’t know what possessed you to break the silence. But something had been tugging at you since the moment you laid down on the beach, and so you did.

“Can I tell you a secret?”

Luke didn’t miss a beat. “Always.”

“I…” you trailed off for a moment, but you bolstered yourself. “I’m scared of what comes next.”

You heard Luke shift in the sand and felt his eyes on you. “What do you mean?”

“After this,” you said. “The honeymoon phase of being a demigod.”

He huffed a laugh. “I wouldn’t say we have a honeymoon phase.”

“You know what I mean.” A shiver went down your spine and you put your arms on your chest. Like a coffin. “I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

“I think you need to stop getting up in the middle of the night,” he said. “It seems you have all your existential crises then.”

You exhaled out your nose, a sorry excuse for a laugh. “I’ve heard about quests—how they can happen for no reason except a god’s will, to— to prove that you’re worthy. And all I can think about is that my mother will never claim me until I prove I’m worthy or die trying.”

Luke was silent. You could feel your throat closing up, the threatened onslaught of tears. You blinked them back.

“All my life, I have never felt seen,” you murmured. “And I’m terrified that the only way I will be seen is when I die.”

“Look at me.”

You turned your head—Luke’s eyes were piercing in the moonlight.

“I don’t care what anyone says, especially that voice in your head—you’re worth everything and more,” he said. “And you are worth so much more than becoming a martyr for a god’s approval.”

“I wish you could tell my mom that,” you mumbled.

“I would march right up to Olympus and say it to her face,” he said. “And if it bothers her that much, she can smite me right now.”

That got a breathy laugh out of you from the pure absurdity. Luke’s eyes flicked to the sky as he waited, and when he didn’t instantly die a horrific death, his gaze went back to you.

“I see you,” Luke promised, his voice low. “And I’ll make everyone see you the way I do. I swear it.”

You were starstruck. You couldn’t look away from him, from the determination etched into each detail of his face, the softness in his eyes directed wholly at you—the fact that he was here at all in the first place at an unholy hour just because you asked.

Oh gods. You were in trouble.

“It’s late.” You finally managed to break the spell that held you under. “We should go.”

“Yeah.” Luke made no motion to move, still focused wholly on you.

“Luke,” you whispered.

You could have sworn his eyes moved down to your lips, but he was sitting up so quickly that you knew you must have imagined it. You cleared your throat as you followed suit, brushing the sand off your—his— jacket.

“This was nice,” he said after a moment. “...Thanks for waking me up.”

“Of course,” you said. “There’s… there’s no one else I would’ve wanted to share it with.”

Luke smiled, and you didn’t think he’d ever looked more beautiful than he did now, awash in the silver moonlight. If you were braver, you would have taken his hand again. You would’ve done what the voice in your head desperately wanted to do—had wanted to do for the past two months.

But you didn’t.

“I guess it was worth nearly getting eaten, huh?”

“Yeah,” he said, and he shrugged. “But most things are worth it when it comes to you.”

You nearly melted right there, and it was a credit to your strength that you didn’t say anything horrifically stupid. Instead, you put on a smile, hoped he couldn’t see how much he was killing you, and started back up on the path.

“C’mon,” you said. “Before we end up having to clean the entire camp for breaking curfew.”

“Whatever you say,” he mused.

You groaned as you slumped into your usual spot at the Hermes table. You heard Luke laugh, and you felt his eyes on you as you put your head in your arms.

“What’s got you so down?”

“I’ve been fifteen for three days and I already feel like an old woman,” you said. “Everything still hurts.”

“Capture the flag was meant to be a birthday gift,” Luke said wryly. “And we did win.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” you grumbled. “I swear, some people went after me on purpose just because it was my birthday. I’ve got bruises all over.”

“You know, we have an infirmary for a reason.”

“They’re battle wounds,” you said. You picked up your head just to take your goblet. “Lemonade. Actually, pink lemonade.” You took a sip, but even that didn’t make you feel better. You buried your head back in your arms with a rough sigh. “Signs of our victory.”

Luke huffed a laugh. “Sometimes I really don’t…”

He trailed off suddenly, and you heard a collective gasp go up at the table.

“What?” you asked halfheartedly.

“You— you’re—”

You didn’t know why he couldn’t finish his sentence. You picked your head up to see Luke’s face awash in golden light, his eyes wide. Everyone else at the Hermes cabin was just as awestruck, and Marisol fumbled around in her purse until she pulled out her compact. She opened her foundation, the mirror pointing at you, and you realized why.

A glowing, golden, translucent sickle with a few sheaths of wheat floated above your head. You frowned.

Before you had the chance to say anything, Luke was yelling your name and tackling you in a hug. You let out a grunt of surprise as you barely managed to brace yourself, and when he pulled away he was smiling wider than you’d ever seen.

“You’re claimed!” he exclaimed, his hands gripping your shoulders. “You— you’re finally claimed!”

“Demeter,” you said, almost absentmindedly. It still hadn’t quite hit you.

“Demeter,” he repeated, nodding rapidly, that gigantic smile seeming like a permanent feature at this point. “I told you everyone would see you— I told you we would make them see you the way I do!”

The rest of the table was chattering away, and you could feel Chris patting you on the back and saying words that went in one ear and out the other. The rest of the pavilion was starting to catch word, and you could see a couple kids from a table on the opposite end standing up and craning to see. Maybe your new siblings.

(You should be happy.)

Your new siblings.

…Your new cabin.

You could still barely think, like there was static in your brain. Luke’s hands on your shoulders were the only thing grounding you.

(You should be ecstatic.)

A year of tears, silent prayers, and apathetic resolution had finally come to a close, just days after your fifteenth.

(Why are you not smiling?)

You’d been claimed. But you didn’t think you’d ever felt more lost.

#also you may notice. that these include the flashbacks mentioned at the end of bleedin me dry. bc i enjoy hurting people #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan fic #luke castellan angst #percy jackson and the olympians x reader #pjo x reader #x reader #sadie writes

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starrylothcat · 1 year

Note

I wish you would write a fic where established relationship between reader and Crosshair gets a little angsty when reader has to treat/comfort Crosshair while he’s suffering from some sort of temporary sensory loss. (Sight is preferred but any would be cool)

Ohhh what an idea, I love this! Thank you! Sorry this took so long, haha!

I had a wild week at work and finally had time to type out this little angsty brainworm 🤓

This is in response to the “I wish you would write a fic about…” ask game that I can’t find the link to!

By My Side

Pairing: Crosshair x Gen!Reader

Warnings: Angst, loss of vision, mentions of drugs/imprisonment. Hopeful ending. Just some classic CrossAngst.

WC: 1300 (I got way carried away)

Summary/Fic Scenario: You and Crosshair were together before Order 66. Crosshair decided to join the Empire, you did not. You begged him to come with you and his brothers, but he made his choice.

You assisted TBB in rescuing Crosshair and Omega from Mount Tantiss and brought them to Pabu. You offered your home for Crosshair to rest, as he was unconscious from the rescue. Cue angst. Will I write a full fic about this one day? Do I have a WIP? Maybe. Hehe. I hope this is up your alley, anon!

When he finally woke, it was to darkness.

Crosshair tried to control the panic rising in his chest, gripping the blankets tight under his fingers.

He blinked again, the darkness easing up just a bit, some fuzzy blobs of color visible.

Panic was still steadily rising, trying to choke out a word, any sound, but his voice was hoarse.

He slowly sat up, realizing he wasn’t restrained in any way, and the bed he was lying on was soft.

Soft?

Crosshair focused momentarily, listening, his one sense that wasn’t currently disrupted.

He could hear distant waves and quiet cries of birds.

Laughter drifted in on a breeze, salt catching his nose.

He wasn’t on Mount Tantiss anymore, that was for certain.

His panic let up slightly as he desperately tried to rub his eyes, hoping to clear the fog.

If he wasn’t there, where was he? Was he dead, is this a dream? A new type of drug they had him under?

His memory was as hazy as his vision, not remembering anything or now he got to be here.

The last broken thought he had was speaking with Omega, her trying to comfort him, saying she knew his brothers were coming to rescue them.

He remembered scoffing at the notion, but deep down, wishing her hopeful statement was true.

Crosshair took a breath, trying to collect his muddled thoughts. His head was pounding and ringing, blood rushing in his ears.

His body was weak and sore, and he was completely disoriented.

While captured, they only fed him the bare minimum to keep him alive. If he had to fight his way out of wherever he currently was, he didn’t have much strength left.

It didn’t help that he still couldn’t see.

Crosshair couldn’t continue his plan of escape, hearing a door click and soft footsteps approaching.

“Who is there?” He managed to croak out, the panic and adrenaline that was coursing through his veins mixing with a crushing exhaustion that was now taking over his body.

He was feeble, vulnerable, but still wouldn’t go down without a fight. Crosshair tried to stand, his legs giving out and immediately falling to the ground, unable to make out anything but fuzzy shapes in front of him.

Something was suddenly touching his shoulder, and he scrambled away. He hit his head on what must have been a side table or dresser as he desperately swiped the air with his hands at nothing.

“Stay back!” He hissed, lost in darkness, trying to feel for anything around him to use as a weapon.

“Crosshair…Crosshair, it’s okay! It’s me.”

Crosshair froze, bristling at the sound of your voice. He curled himself into a corner like a wounded animal, ready to strike.

He must be dead. This must be hell.

It was your voice.

You.

Pain gripped his heart, he couldn’t speak.

“You’re safe. We’re safe.”

A million emotions pulsed through his system as he processed the fact you were there. Was this a hallucination?

Crosshair felt a touch on his shoulder again, realizing it was your hand. He flinched at your touch, but didn’t pull away. Your contact was hesitant, unsure.

“Tech said your vision should return within a day or two. It’s a side effect of the drugs from the lab.”

Crosshair felt like he was falling, every word you spoke opening old wounds. He may as well be back on the operating table, being sliced open.

It was you. It had to be. Your cadence, soft yet affirming, the voice that haunted his dreams every night.

After all he did…you were here?

He was glad he couldn’t see your face, what expression did you wear? Disgust? Pain? Anger?

“We can explain everything later. We are all here, safe from the Empire.”

“Omega…?” He finally croaked out.

“Her too, she’s fine, just resting.”

Crosshair let out a breath. She was right, they did come for them. And so did you.

The last time Crosshair saw you, Kamino was burning, sinking to the depths.

He asked you to come with him.

Your hurt, tear-filled eyes still burned in his mind, the sadness on your face, your desperate words to get him to stay with you.

He did not forget the wrathful anger that practically ate him alive as you left him on Kamino, choosing his brothers over him.

Crosshair felt what you had shared never mattered, feeling foolish at ever letting you in, feeling betrayed that he had shown you part of him that no one had ever seen.

The one person he tentatively and slowly let inside was now turning their back, just like everyone always had.

He should have known.

Pathetic.

At least that’s how he felt initially.

As time went on, and he lay alone in his small Imperial quarters, he thought of you.

He thought of his brothers.

He thought of what he left behind.

He thought of what Cody told him, his words taking hold in his brain more and more. Had he made a mistake?

Now here he was, back with them, back with you.

Fate has a funny way of doing things.

Crosshair stayed silent, letting you help him back into the bed.

What can be said after all this time? After the things he’s done?

Why were you here, helping him?

Crosshair felt the side of the bed lower as you sat next to him.

“Crosshair, I…” You started, also not knowing what to say.

“I can explain everything later, or your brothers can. They are right next door. They figured it was best to give you some space. But I…I thought you might need someone around when you woke up.”

Crosshair could pick up the weariness in your voice.

“I can go if you’d like.” You spoke quietly.

Crosshair wanted to reach out, touch you. But he didn’t deserve that, after all he did. He didn’t even deserve to be in your current presence.

“No.” He rasped.

He felt the bed rise as you stood up.

“Let me bring you some food. You’re probably starving.”

Crosshair heard your footsteps leave his bedside, and picked up on the uneven sound of your steps.

“Wait,” Crosshair called, your footsteps stopping.“Are you hurt?”

There was a few moments of silence.

“Just a few scrapes and bruises, nothing serious.” Your crooked footsteps continued out of the room.

Crosshair knew you were lying, obviously dealing with an injury received while rescuing him.

Guilt stabbed at his chest, knowing you were hurt because of him, carrying scars that you’ll probably have forever.

A reminder of what his family had to go through to rescue him, something he was unworthy of.

Yet here you were, caring for him, at his side, even after everything. Risking your life to save the man who tossed you to the side, abandoned you and his brothers for something he thought was right and was too stubborn to see before it was too late.

Crosshair laid there, hearing the occasional sound of a pantry opening, a plate being set on a counter.

He must be in your home, wherever this is.

You came back into the room, setting food down at the bedside table next to him.

Crosshair wearily sat up again as you touched his hand, guiding it to the food.

“Why are you doing this?” He whispered, your hand not leaving his.

Crosshair could feel your hand trembling.

“You were lost. So we found you.”

Your hand tightened around his.

“I said terrible things. I’ve done terrible things.” Crosshair could feel bile rise in his throat, nauseous at the recollections of what he did serving the Empire. Or maybe it was the drugs wearing off. Or maybe it was remembering how he left you.

He was dizzy.

It was all too much.

Crosshair felt your other hand carefully touch the side of his face, which he instinctually leaned into, desperate for contact that wasn’t medical machinery or hands forcing him into restraints.

“I’m sorry.” Crosshair felt hot tears sting at sides of his eyes, confused, lost, anguished.

Forgiveness isn’t something easily earned. He knew that.

It was going to take a long time to come to terms with everything, with his family, with you.

But for now, you were here, and the rest will come later.

Taglist (y’all being tagged in this sorry lolol)

@littlemissmanga @maybethatfanfictionwriter @secondaryrealm @secretthegriffin @sinfulsalutations @anxiouspineapple99 @idontgetanysleep @starqueensthings @dystopicjumpsuit @wings-and-beskar @dreamie411 @coraex @aconstructofamind @multi-fan-dom-madness @freesia-writes @kashasenpai @sunshinesdaydream @clonemedickix @wizardofrozz @pb-jellybeans @wanderer-six @the-cantina @king-chaos-world @wolffegirlsunite @dukeoftheblackstar @523rdrebel @sleepingsun501 @sunshinesdaydream @kimiheartblade

Divider by @idontgetanysleep

#crosshair x reader #crosshair tbb #the bad batch fanfiction #tbb #crosshair x you #starrycatwrites #the bad batch #clone x reader #x reader #tbb crosshair #tbb crosshair x reader

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miasmaghoul · 11 months

Note

*ahem* edelweisss, edelweisss . . .

Swiss leans in the doorway to the common room, arms crossed over his chest, tail idly swishing behind him. He's been here for a few minutes now, left his book dog-eared on his bed with the intent of grabbing a snack. He'd found the kitchen occupied, though, and the smile he wears is exclusively thanks to the sight before him.

The kitchen is a mess; the small island is occupied by an ancient stand mixer and a few dirty bowls, while the counter lies covered in open containers, half-empty ingredient bags and not-small pile of used measuring spoons. The scent of sugar, citrus and something floral hangs heavy in the air, and Swiss can feel the heat of the oven from across the room.

At the center of the mess, though, lies what holds Swiss' attention.

Mountain's humming, swaying in front of the stove along with the album playing on the common room turntable. Something jazzy Swiss recognizes but can't name off the top of his head. Whatever it is, Mountain is clearly lost in it while he rather vigorously stirs something Swiss can't see. What he can see is the smattering of floury handprints covering Mountain's jeans, and the streak of something pale yellow that's somehow ended up in his hair. Swiss can only imagine how much worse Mountain's front must be, but there's one more detail that keeps him from wondering too hard.

The few delicate white flowers that have made their home at the base of Mountian's antlers have Swiss' eyes crinkling. He'd know those pale petals anywhere.

Swiss pushes off the doorframe and drags his feet just loud enough to announce himself. Sneaking up on Mountain in the kitchen doesn't usually end well. He sees the other ghoul's ear flick, sees him pause in stirring, and Swiss feels safe to speak.

"Thinkin' about me, grasshopper?"

Mountain peers at his over his shoulder, raises an eyebrow. Swiss gestures at his head as he strolls into he room, and Mountain rolls his eyes as though he can see his own antlers. He makes a chuffing sound and resumes his mixing, but Swiss doesn't miss his little smirk.

"Might be," he replies with a half shrug. "It's happened once or twice, against my better judgement."

Swiss laughs as he hops up onto one of the bar stools at the island, one leg tucked up under himself. He rests his elbow on one of the few clean spots by the mixer - the remnants of whatever Mountain has in his hair sits in the bowl closest to him, so Swiss picks it up and gives it a sniff.

"What's on the menu today, peaches?" Swiss swipes a fingers through a blob on the side of the bowl. Gives it a cursory sniff.

"A lemon and lavender cake," Mountain supplies, just in time for Swiss to pop his finger into his mouth and find out for himself.

The batter is delicious, sweet and tart and wonderfully smooth. Delightful on all counts. Swiss isn't surprised; Mountain is as good a cook as he is a messy one, and judging by the splotch of egg yolk Swiss can see on the ceiling this has been particularly inspired session.

"Fancy," he says, gathering another bit of batter. "If you need someone to taste when it's baked, my mouth ain't busy."

Mountain snorts, and together they say,

"For now."

Swiss playfully tosses a dirty tea towel at his back, and Mountain catches it without even looking. Tucks one corner into his pocket while his tail meanders towards the fridge.

"Already baked," he says, nodding towards the appliance while his tail tugs it open. The middle shelf holds three identical rounds of cake, the loveliest shade of yellow speckled with what must be flecks of lavender. "You'll have to wait for the finished product, I already trimmed them down. For quality control. You know how it is."

Swiss nods sagely. He slides from his stool and wanders over to the stove, humming when Mountain's tail sways up to greet him, the tufted end caressing his jaw. Swiss leans against the counter, and now he can see what Mountain is working on.

"What's, uh," he waves at the odd arrangement on the stove - a pan beneath what appears to be the stand mixer's bowl, which must contain whatever Mountain is tirelessly stirring. "What's this all for, then?"

"Frosting," Mountain tells him, lifting what turns out to be a whisk. "Eventually."

Something thick and gooey drips from the whisk and immediately gives Swiss several indecent thoughts.

"Don't say it looks like cum," Mountain says before Swiss can so much as open his mouth.

"Wasn't gonna," Swiss lies, tongue poking out between his fangs. Mountain gives him a look. "I wasn't!" Swiss insists, pushing away from the counter. He slips behind Mountain instead, wraps his arms around the taller ghoul's waist. Swiss kisses the back of his shoulder. "But I was gonna ask if that was why you were thinkin' about me."

Mountain barks out a laugh.

"Gross," he complains, but his tail wraps around Swiss' calf all the same. "But you're actually half right." Swiss makes a questioning sound, and Mountain points a thumb behind them. "Look at the recipe."

Swiss will, eventually. He indulges in holding Mountain first, just for a moment. Presses his nose to his sweat-damp shirt and breathes in the the homey scent of warm earth and something herbal. It blends beautifully with the lemon and sugar surrounding them, makes him feel a little fuzzy around the edges. He gives Mountain a squeeze, and stands on his toes to kiss the back of his neck before he lets go; another soft, white blossom pops up behind Mountain's ear.

Mountain picks up humming again while Swiss hunts for the recipe he mentioned. He piles dishes as he searches, stacks bowls and gathers measuring spoons. He finds it after a minute, an index card stained with vanilla and sticky with egg.

"A-ha," he holds up the card triumphantly, a light dusting of flour raining down from it. "Let's see what got you growing me."

Swiss wipes the card on his pants, and recognizes its looping, cursive script as Cumulus' handwriting. Lemon lavender layer cake with -

"No fuckin' way," Swiss says through a laugh. He looks up to find Mountain watching him with a glimmer in his eye. "That's all it took?"

"Yep," Mountain sighs, turning back to the task at hand. "That's all."

Swiss stares at the back of his head for a beat, and then the goofiest smile cracks his face. He tosses the card to the counter and returns to his place at Mountain's back, wrapping him up just a little tighter this time.

"Lucifer, you're a sap," he teases, but they both know it's true. Swiss reaches up and plucks one of the flowers decorating Mountain's antlers, spins it between two fingers. "Not that I'm complaining about bein' on your mind."

"Neither am I, edelweiss," Mountain rumbles. He briefly abandons his dutiful whisking to turn and knock their horns together. "Neither am I."

Mountain ducks down just enough for Swiss to catch him is a leisurely kiss, one that tastes like summery sunshine, and then he's gone again. Leaves Swiss grinning dumbly at the back of his head while warmth trickles into his belly. He settles against the taller ghoul's back, and in no time at all the pair of them start to sway to the music as one.

"So," Swiss murmurs into his shirt after a long moment, "what's a Swiss meringue buttercream, anyway?"

#miasma's work #the band ghost ficlets #swiss ghoul #mountain ghoul #swiss/mountain #swiss x mountain #SURPRISE BITCH HAVE THE CAKE IDEA >:)#jk ilu crow <3

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sarahghetti · 1 year

Text

absolutely purr-fect; m.k. x reader

pairing: marc spector x reader, steven grant x reader, jake lockley x reader

summary: you and the boys adopt a cat.

warnings: none! only fluff 'round here, folks.

word count: 2.4k

MOON KNIGHT MASTERLIST | ALL MASTERLISTS

if there’s one thing the boys all have in common, it’s that they’re all cat people.

steven thinks they’re particularly cute, and has always liked the idea of having a cat curled up beside him as he reads.

jake got attacked by a dog during a mission once and has been wary of them ever since.

marc just appreciates their independence—the fact that their trust needs to be earned with a little more effort, a little more patience.

(you give him this look when he says that, and steven snorts from inside their headspace. marc pointedly ignores you both.)

they’ve always wanted a cat, but the logistics of it never worked out given their vigilante schedule.

getting someone to drop by and feed gus the ii and his friend once a day? no problem. but leaving a cat at the flat? even if it were in the care of one of their neighbours, the idea makes them uneasy.

but then they met you. and since you’ve moved in with them, the opportunity has become much, much more feasible.

steven often looks through listings from the nearby adoption centres, cooing over the cats they have available.

steven lets out the most precious little gasp, excitement illuminated by his laptop, and you can’t help but lean over to see what he’s looking at. a picture of a scrawny-looking shorthair with a pronounced snout is pulled up on the screen.

“his name is scream,” steven supplies, utterly enamoured.

“scream,” you repeat, and he nods. “well, the flat does have good soundproofing.”

he scrolls down some more and almost instantly, there’s a fluffy mess lounging on the back of a couch that catches your eye. your hand falls on steven’s to stop him from going down any further.

“kit kat!” you take control of the trackpad to circle kit kat’s adorable face. steven shakes his head, raising an eyebrow.

“oh, but does kit kat hold a candle to margarine?” margarine is a kitten so small that she looks like she’d immediately get lost in the mess of books and knickknacks strewn about the apartment.

steven’s posed an impossible question. you pout a little. “I want both.”

he sighs. “me too, love.”

jake sends you a picture of every single cat he spots on the street. they vary in quality—some are so close that you can count each whisker while others are nothing more than a fuzzy blob in the night.

the utter quantity is enviable. you have half a mind to think that they just spend their entire night patrol looking for cats around the city.

that said, if you ask, “did you get to pet it?” the answer is almost always no.

for all of yours and steven’s window adopting online, marc is the one who ends up bringing a cat home.

not even an hour after marc left to patrol, you stir awake to the sound of the front door banging against the adjacent wall. your boyfriend’s quiet voice hisses, “shit.”

“marc?” you yawn, rubbing your eyes as you sit up. usually, he’s mum as a mouse when he comes back, cautious not to disturb you. you squint at him in the dark. “are you okay?”

“’m fine.” his silhouette moves into the living room, and one of the softer lamps is clicked on. “just—”

a sharp little mrow interrupts him, and you both fall silent as it rings out in the flat. was… was that—?

mreo-o-o-ow!

“marc!” you throw the blankets to the side as you jump out of bed, scurrying so fast to his side that you nearly trip over your own feet.

he’s still in the suit, mask and hood retracted, and held gingerly in his gloved hands is a dirty bundle of orange fur. the little guy is dwarfed against marc’s broad chest; narrowed green eyes watch your movements suspiciously. you bring your hand up to let the kitten sniff you, but marc leans away. “careful—he’s a bit touchy.”

“you’re holding him fine,” you point out, and he snorts.

“hardly.” as if on cue, the kitten lets out another piercing cry, squirming and scratching so fiercely that you’re sure it would leave some marks if not for the suit. marc grimaces as he tries to maintain his grip without hurting him, but his eyes widen when you sigh endearingly. “oh, no, don’t you dare—”

“can we keep him?”

while marc knows that he can’t say no to you for very long—a fact that’s going to be the end of him someday, he swears—he does effectively put that conversation on hold until the kitten can see a veterinarian in the morning.

trying to convince you to go back to sleep is a lost cause. you’ve brought home a stray kitten, marc—there’s no way you’re leaving him to try and figure out what to do on his own.

the commotion also wakes up steven and jake. you can only hear marc’s side of the conversation, but it’s clear that they’re as excited as you are for your new guest.

marc’s staring down the mirror, brow furrowed at whatever his alters are telling him through the reflection. the kitten is nonplussed by the argument happening over its head, only sinking further into marc’s arms.

“no, we can’t keep him—”

“aw, come on!” you interject. marc, unable to do anything that could bring you down when there’s that much excitement in your voice, only responds with a restless noise.

“he could already have an owner somewhere,” he reasons. one of them must offer to take over, because his mouth twists into a stubborn scowl soon after. “I’m fine.”

getting marc to take care of himself is a herculean feat, so you switch tactics, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I think they just wanna meet the kitty.”

still, he bristles, and holds the kitten almost protectively against his chest. “the meet and greet can happen after we figure out what we’re doing.”

he steps away from the mirror then, and you pump your fist when his back is turned.

there’s a chance.

it’s the most intense googling research session you’ve ever been a part of.

marc gets most of the grime off its fur with a damp cloth, handling the kitten so gently that it might as well be made of glass. he still won’t let you touch it—too worried that it’ll hurt you somehow.

(you go along with it because yeah, if it does bite you, there’s no way marc’s letting you guys keep it.)

an old cardboard box is pulled out of recycling to serve as a makeshift bed, and some spare towels are neatly spread out on the bottom to provide some bedding.

you watch marc have a staring contest with the kitten as it sits inside, every muscle in his body tensed and ready as if anticipating a fight. the kitten, a valiant opponent, doesn’t seem to show any fear at the sight of your boyfriend, ancient ceremonial armor be damned.

it’s not until it’s contentedly chomping down on some boiled chicken you prepared that marc finally gives up the driver’s seat, getting some rest at yours and the others’ insistence.

jake comes in with a wide, wide grin, immediately crouching beside the box with a disbelieving sound.

“so small,” he comments, twiddling his fingers in a way to entice the little guy. the spark in jake’s eye is enough to know that he’s on your side in the keep-him-or-don’t conversation.

which means that finally, you can ask the question that’s been on the tip of your tongue all night.

“what should we name him?” after the impromptu bath, the orange of its fur gleams a little warmer in the low light of the flat, but you wait patiently as you let kitten sniff you. you bite back a giggle when its whiskers brush against your hand.

jake winces in a way that tells you that he must be getting an earful from inside the headspace, but presses on. “juice? naranja? OJ?”

you raise an eyebrow. “you really want to name him after orange juice, huh.”

“yeah well, steven says some egyptian god.” he rolls his eyes. typical.

“and what does marc say?”

“marc says—” his voice shifts to a monotone drone “’—oh my god stop trying to pet the cat it’s still dirty and hostile and why are we trying to name the damn thing it’s only been here for like an hour it’s not staying jake shut your mouth you’re not funny—’”

your laugh startles the kitten but you can’t help it, burying your head in your arms to muffle the sound to no avail. if you looked up, you’d see the smug look jake is pointing at his nearest reflection.

there’s a nudge at your side as you quiet down. “and what about you, carino? what do you think?”

“hmm.” you tilt your head. “where did marc find him?”

a pause as he listens, then, “in a dumpster. behind that chinese place we like.”

your mind whirs, and you can see that jake is following the same train of thought. egg tart. chicken chow mein. mapo tofu.

you gasp, “dumpling.”

the look on marc’s face when you put ‘dumpling’ on the forms at the veterinarian’s office is priceless.

for what it’s worth, the kitten is in surprisingly good shape. some washing up, a round of vaccinations, and one microchip later, he’s released back into your care with little fanfare, but you’re positively buzzing.

you guys go a little overboard at the pet shop. jake fills the handbasket with an assortment of toys while steven and marc argue incessantly about the best food to buy, which bed he’d prefer.

“thought you didn’t even want to keep him!” steven snarks into the gleam of a metal shelf at some point, and you can practically hear marc’s ensuing scoff.

when you guys get home, jake dumps all the toys on the ground at once, a colourful mess of bells and feathers that almost blend into steven’s existing mess.

to no one’s surprise, dumpling plays more with the disposable plastic bag than the toys themselves. still, that doesn’t matter—jake can lay on his stomach and play with him for hours.

steven, mediocre human food chef, becomes a master cat food chef.

“good god,” you comment as he comes back from the store with his arms full of fancy looking packages. what started as mixing wet food in with the dry has seemingly become a new pinpoint of steven’s focus, and your eyebrows raise a little more with each label you read.

chicken liver, mussels, duck egg—all freeze dried and decked out in cartoony illustrations. dumpling jumps up to take a look, sniffing inquisitively at each bag.

“you’re gonna be eating better than us,” you quip. he’s still a little cautious, shying from sudden movements, so you just let him explore and don’t push when he slinks away.

“little guy only deserves the best, doesn’t he?” steven pulls out dumpling’s fish-shaped dish. you watch, mesmerized as he carefully begins to put food on it; he’s even pulled out the kitchen scale to properly measure everything.

steven talks as he goes, telling you (and dumpling) about each element with the same vigor he would apply to egyptology. organ meats for nutrients, bone broth for hydration, oils for a shiny coat—dumpling looks as baffled as you are.

although—he also looks quite impatient. steven keeps having to push him back to keep him from the dish before it’s ready. his little paws slide on the counter each time.

“ta-da!” steven presents the finished product to you with a flourish. it’s surprisingly well-plated for someone who sometimes eats straight from the pan.

though it doesn’t last long. the second he places it down, dumpling is ravenous. broth is splashed onto the ground. bits of dehydrated powder get caught in his chin. you worry a little that he’s gonna choke somehow.

steven manages to pull his attention away from the scene for a second, turning to you. a proud smile pulls at his lips. “think he likes it?”

with all your efforts, it doesn’t take very long for dumpling to get comfortable; the flat becomes his kingdom.

you find him lounging on the top shelves of steven’s bookcases and leaving stapler-like holes in marc’s research notes with his teeth.

jake is constantly running around looking for his driving gloves because dumpling always manages to get his paws on them and always squirrels them away in separate locations, somehow.

you wake up more often than not to a mouthful of fur—he loves to sleep on your pillow, regardless of whether or not your head is already on it.

“why. why.” marc dangles dumpling in the air by his front legs. an entire piece of sushi—swiped from marc’s plate on the coffee table—hangs from the kitten’s mouth, nearly the size of his head. there is not a hint of remorse. “steven’s putting a dent in our finances to buy you organic beef hearts or whatever-the-hell and you come over here to steal my food?”

the defendant remains silent. marc lets out a low grumble and deposits dumpling onto his lap, sushi and all, keeping his hand on him to stop him from taking anything else.

you lean into his side. “thought you said we shouldn’t give him any scraps, hm?”

it’s true—while jake folded immediately, often sneaking bites to dumpling under the table, and steven excuses a bit here and there just as a treat, love—marc is the strict cat-dad who stubbornly ignores those big, begging green eyes whenever they pop up during a meal.

or at least, he was. marc chews slowly, an obvious delay to answering your question, and so you hum again, prodding. it’s not that he’s hated having the cat around, but for a while it was clear that he was the sole holdout to keeping him.

finally, he swallows. you wait with bated breath as he sighs. “he can have a little bit. just this once, though.”

the last part is said directly to the culprit, who’s purring like a motor with the soils of his hunt. your grin is blinding. marc goes back to eating, but you and dumpling come to the same delightful conclusion—

yeah, it’s not going to be just this once.

#moon knight x reader #marc spector x reader #steven grant x reader #jake lockley x reader #moon knight #marc spector #steven grant #jake lockley #moon knight fanfic #my writing

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saltofmercury · 1 year

Note

I love your writing so much that I check if you posted anything new right after I wake up and before I go to bed 🥹 I have a little request for you, if you don’t mind. I would like to see König’s POV of anything. It would be great to read fluff (or angst 😭), for example him feeling like a teenager when he’s around reader at the beginning of a relationship, you know, butterflies in his stomach, bit of anxiety, trying to act cool and look best OR if it’s angst then maybe something about him being jealous, because he finally found someone who gets him and who attracts other people (even just in a friendly way!), so he kinda doesn’t know how to control his feelings, BUT he’s working on it? (your König goes to therapy sooooo you know we love self aware king). Idk, but I’m begging on my knees to get into König’s mind 🧎‍♀️

Ba-thump, ba-thump, ba-thump.

The yellow blob bounces from the ground to the wall back to the massive hand. The ball moves so swifty, it's blurry and looks stretched in his peripheral vision.

Ba-thump, ba-thump, ba-thump.

He’s pretty sure he should cancel, there were never third or fourth dates. Usually by the end of the night it was a mutual decision that it would be best to not continue dating. But if there’s anything keeping him on the fence it’s you.

Ba-thump, ba-thump, ba-thump.

He reflects on the small moments he’s saved and logged into his brain. For example, last weekend when you had been sharing a dessert and you saved the last piece for him.

“Please! It’s too sweet for me.” You had said while scrunching up your nose. You placed the piece of cake on his spoon, went back to sipping your coffee.

It was a small gesture but it was a clear indication to him at least, that you were caring, willing to share.

There was another time he knew he wasn’t making eye contact with you, he mentally killed himself for it.

“Just look at them for three seconds…” he replayed the demand in his head.

“Three seconds….”

He couldn’t do it. It wasn’t until you had pointed out the birds in formation flying overhead.

“Hey look at those guys!”

Your head shot straight up, along with your left arm, and he caught the perfect opportunity to look at you. He thought maybe you would look back at him, but your concentration went to the birds.

He stared at you. The curve of your nose, how your eyes widened, your smile perked up on the corners of your mouth, but your gaze stayed on them.

Birds… he thought. you’re his bird.

He found himself smiling. He likes spending time with you. He likes hearing about your day. He likes making you laugh and hearing you gasp when you hear stories that he tells about being away.

Ba-thump, ba-thump, ba-thump —

He catches the ball with his left hand.

He wonders what you’re doing today. He knows your schedule already. He knows that you head off to work, you have a sandwich and a soup for lunch everyday, you make an afternoon coffee to keep your energy level up. He already knows how you take it too —extra sweet with hazelnut flavored creamer, no extra sugar, preferably hot in the morning and iced in the afternoon.

He likes knowing the little things about you.

Like how many pet animals you had as a kid.

How you don’t sleep with socks on.

You brush your teeth on the left side of your mouth and not the right side.

There are also things he’s seen that he’s taken mental note of.

Like how you eat your vegetables before you eat meat on your plate.

How you blink slowly when you're getting sleepy. There’s even times your lip curved just a little bit to the right when you get excited about something.

Small things he’s picked up, locked into a file in his brain and loves.

Ba-thump, ba-thump, ba — thump-thump-ump

He stops, hears wheels on the gravel crunch outside his house.

He stands up from the living room, walking towards the front door. He only catches a glimpse, realizing the color of your hair, leaving a package on his doorstep.

He doesn’t open the door, but can hear you giggling outside and then running back to your car before driving away.

A smile curls up his face, he catches it, and gets embarrassed.

Once the coast is clear, he feels the ping and vibration from his phone, checking it.

“I was driving by and someone left something on your doorstep!”

He smiles at your text.

“Oh really?”

“Yes!”

“Funny… I saw someone giggling outside driving your car and had your hair color too.”

“So weird!”

He puts his phone down, he’s smiling. Opening the door, seeing the small cream colored package on his porch. Picking it up gently; he brings the package inside.

A small hint of worry comes to his head. What’s inside the package?

He sees it’s sealed with thin, clear tape. He grabs the knife out of his sweatpants, flips it open, quickly swiping the knife against the tape.

The scent hits him. It’s sweet, and vanilla?

He opens the package and there are four cupcakes inside. Perfectly frosted, decorated with rainbow sprinkles. There is one word written on each of the cupcakes.

“Happy. two. month. anniversary!”

Fuck. He can’t help the smile that appears on his face. He’s never celebrated any anniversary before and now he feels stupid that he didn’t even remember.

He quickly texts you back—

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“Buuuut how else are we supposed to celebrate?”

His tongue licks his bottom lip, attempting to hide the smile that keeps appearing. At this rate, his cheeks are going to be sore from all this happiness.

“Can I see you tonight?”

“Yes. Your place or mine?”

“Yours.”

There’s a small hesitation when he reaches the door to your apartment. He leans against the doorframe after the first 3 knocks. He hears you running from the living room to the door, where you take 3-4 breaths? He counted three for sure. Then you collect yourself and slowly walk to the door.

Once opened, he prays mentally that you don’t notice how fast his heart is racing when he envelops you in a hug.

“Hi!” You chirp at him, he can see how far your neck cranes up to see him.

He bends down to kiss you, pulls up his face mask.

His heart keeps pounding on his chest, it’s so loud, thumping in his ears. Please don’t let her hear or feel it.

You bring him towards the couch, laying on him immediately. He likes that you’re so comfortable with him. You don’t hesitate with him.

“Well?” You ask.

“Well what?”

“What’s up? What’s new? Why are you nervous?”

He covers his face with his enormous hand, blushing instantly.

“How do you know?” He says sheepishly.

“What? That you’re nervous? You’ve been red since you opened the door.”

He doesn’t know if this is going to last long, part of him hopes that it does because he can’t grow tired of hearing you run towards the door when he comes by. He can’t get over how you greet him with so much love, and he can’t get over meeting someone so… so special like you.

#könig #mw2 könig #könig imagine #könig?#cod könig #könig call of duty #könig cod #könig fluff #call of duty #könig x reader #konig call of duty #konig x reader #könig mw2

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socks10858 · 17 days

Text

HOW TO TELL THE BEATLES APART AS SOMEONE WHO IS NEW TO LISTENING TO THE BAND!!!

- Bored and saw someone else do this, so I wanted to give it a shot -

NOW, it may seem a bit intimidating, seeing as, at first glance, they all look like four pale, British blobs with bad haircuts wearing identical suits, but I promise you that it gets far easier once you figure out the distinctions between them - OF WHICH THERE ARE MANY.

Firstly, let’s start off with with the least difficult (bc, IMO, he is easily the most distinctive-looking member of the the Beatles):

RINGO STARR!!

If you’ve been in the fandom for any amount of time, you’ll know that this little guy’s most obvious tell is that rather large, Roman-esque nose of his - unless he’s standing next to the others in a full body picture, seeing as he’s a good five inches shorter than the rest of them.

I’m guessing that his height goes hand in hand with him also having a very small face; his jaw is very narrow and triangular, with very little definition (not his fault ofc, I’m sure that mewing was a very foreign concept back then to everyone other than George) and a pointy-ish chin.

His eyes are actually very large, though they don’t come across as big as Paul’s do right away because they’re quite hooded and downturned (very sad-looking/puppyish, as has been quoted by many). His lips are kind of thick and his teeth are a bit crooked, especially his left canine - somewhat similar to George’s, but not as long. This also makes his big ol’ grin SO endearing, he’s absolutely adorable.

Also, if you’re looking at coloured photos of them, his hair is a mousy brown, with (although only every now and then, if you peer close enough and if he hasn’t dyed it) a thin grey streak above one of his ears. Overall, he’s very much a cutie.

(Just look at that smile)

Second of all, and my personal second favourite (although he and Ringo swap places every now and then):

GEORGE HARRISON!!

As the youngest and (once again, IMO) most ‘classically handsome’ Beatle, Georgie is also rather easy to tell apart from the others, as long as the photos are being taken in a dimly lit room to show off those defined features.

He’s as thin as a whippet (which I’ve heard was common for working-class kids at the time, seeing as they were growing up on rations after the war) but gracefully, if a little worryingly, so. He also wasn’t as pale as the others (or didn’t appear so in pictures at least) and his skin had a tendency towards acne/was a little pockmarked.

With a long, lean face, the sharpest jawline KNOWN TO MAN, and cheekbones that put Angelina Jolie to shame, he cuts a very striking figure. His dark brown eyes are clear, with especially long lower lashes, and his lower lip is very full.

One particularly cute trait of his is his long, snaggle-teeth - if you look closely at his grin, you can see how his canines stick out quite clearly, just like fangs, though on one side more than the other. Just like a little vampire.

His hair was also extraordinarily thick - like, quote unquote, “a fookin’ turban” - and appears to be a very rich brown. However, his haircut in the early bowl-cut days is easily the worst of the lot of them (sorry George fans, I love him too, but it’s the truth. The moment he saw the fringe he’d been given, he should have called the police.)

Still doesn’t take away from his beauty ofc 🫶🏻

Now, third of the lot:

PAUL MCCARTNEY!!

IK no one asked for my opinion, but, while I agree that Paul was definitely pretty for a man, especially at the time, I don’t find him as much more remarkably handsome than the others as he’s often described. He was kind of just a different type of good-looking, which may have come off as extraordinary in the 60s - however, I am not saying this to detract from his good looks, he’s a gorgeous man.

As absolutely the most PR-conscious of the four, Paul is usually the one with the most charming/friendly expression in any of the group photos or interviews. He has a pale, pixie-ish face, with a straight, almost upturned nose, a somewhat long chin and chubby cheeks that make him look quite cherubic.

His lips are small and dainty, with an evident cupids bow, and he has pretty cute bunny teeth when he smiles. His hazel eyes are large and droopy, framed by notably dark, curled lashes - you’d be able to see them from miles away, they’re like spider-legs. His brows are also VERY arched and defined.

His hair was black/a very dark brown, and DEFINITELY cut the best, for at least a while there in the early 60s.

Though I may not be as biased towards him, I can definitely see why he was called the Cute Beatle.

And, last but not least, my No. 1 Jealous Guy:

JOHN LENNON!!

This time I am being biased when I say that I find this man INCREDIBLY, oddly attractive. Actually, not even oddly - he is quite conventionally good-looking for the most part, but I have a feeling many people don’t acknowledge that bc he’s been so villainised throughout the media. It was also a very different look than what was considered particularly handsome at the time, which frequently makes me very sad to think ab, but whatever.

John can be a bit easier to mix up with some of the others bc his features may not seem as immediately striking in the black and white photos, aside from maybe his nose. His long face was kind made up of angles - similar to George’s, but softer, not as slim/sharp. His jawline was squarish and defined, but bc of his chubby/fuller features in the earlier days it didn’t always look as such. His skin was pale and apparently very delicate.

His very long, thin nose (an aquiline nose, as Paul has repeatedly called it) is one of his most obvious physical traits- in fact, it’s one of the things he’s most well known for. His lips were very slim and pert, and he had quite a huge, cheesy little smile that showed off a row of kind of small, almost sharp looking teeth.

His eyes were almond-shaped and brown, usually thin/squinted due to the fact that he apparently couldn’t see for shit, framed by long, though pretty feathery lashes. His eyebrows were also very thick.

His hair looked fairly brown in the pictures, if a bit lighter than the other’s, but it was actually described as quite shockingly red in person - and u can see it in a few of the coloured photos that r circulating around the place.

People are pretty unfair about him (for the most part, I’m not excusing him entirely) but I still think he was a VERY handsome young man.

#anyways rant out #sorry for being creepy and thank you for reading #the beatles #john lennon #paul mccartney #george harrison #ringo starr #gorgeous boys #lomls

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xdead-dove-dinnerx · 24 days

Text

Chronology of Kakavasha

Au where Aventurine is kidnapped by the aeon of time and momentarily is trapped in the dimension of space time in a sort of elevator like contraption and he is suspended in the void in a glass box.

In the distance, are his mother and father, suspended in seperate boxes. They drift by him slowly and Aventurine sees them weeping. He reaches out and tries to shout but his voice won't leave his throat and he stays there, hands pressed against the glass, stunned. They float away and Aventurine's box approaches a new one.

This one has his childhood self and his sister in another glass box, they too are drifting farther and farther away from him. He presses his hands against the glass and watches as that box drifts onwards and gets ripped into two different blobs and his sister dies in front of his eyes, blood fills the glass box and the corpse starts rotting within minutes. His younger self is crying. Aventurine wishes to comfort that boy, but he floats away too, and his sister decomposes into a pile of bones that clatter on the floor of her box, drifting in the distance.

He drifts on further and sees himself, chained, dirty, looking like an animal, screaming in pain, kneeling on the floor of its glass box with its arms forcefully spread. He watches as it cries and begs and curses and screams. Aventurine watches as a blazing red mark appears on its neck.

Further on still, is a young Aventurine, a fresh recruit at the IPC. The wall of his box that faces Aventurine is transparent. The rest are the walls of the IPC bathrooms. His first day of work, when Aventurine had had a panic attack in the bathroom. Aventurine watches himself cover his own mouth, eyes widened and crazed and tear filled, frantic breathes and muffled screaming coming from his past self.

He is travelling slower now, and he sees his current self. Unlike the others, this version's face is turned away from Aventurine. His other self's hand is clasped behind his back, shaking and clutching onto the king of spades. His hand trembles so hard he crumples the card.

The next box is Aventurine alone at home. The lights are dim and his face is streaked with tears. Aventurine watches as his other self tears at the marked skin of his neck. This one passes slower, and when it does, for a while Aventurine floats alone through empty space.

After that, his future self. He looks older, yet frailer. His face is still beautiful, but now his cheerful, carefree persona is gone- nothing but an empty husk. Aventurine watches as his future self laughs bitterly. An official looking letter is clutched to his heart. The paper is crumpled harshly, ripped, and thrown on the ground, the laughter of the man who was holding it choking into sobs. He is the first of the versions of Aventurine to speak coherent words.

"The doctor is dead, isn't he? Good, I never cared for that one anyways. He always was an unnecessary cost. A deal that didn't pay off. Funeral? Like hell I'll go to that bastard's funeral. After what he did-" Then that box drifts away too far for Aventurine to hear anymore.

The next (and in his heart he knows, the last) version of him is standing straight. His gaze is determined, his eyes darkened, and poking out of his pocket is a bit of crumpled paper. His cheeks are covered with tear streaks but his eyes are dry. In his arms are a corpse, half decayed and those dawn-colored eyes gone, but still recognizable as Veritas Ratio. Aventurine watches, his breath hitched and throat dry as his future self's face twists in pain. His future self collapses, sitting against the walls of the glass box, still holding the clothes of the corpse tightly with one arm, the other clutching his stomach in pain as he hacks out blood. This goes on for almost half an hour, his future self writhing about, sometimes talking to the corpse of Veritas. Eventually that too goes limp and fades away.

Finally, all that's left is himself. Aventurine is there, suspended, floating through space. Tears are dripping down his cheeks, and he wipes them away. In a hoarse voice, he asks the aeon, "Why? Why have you shown me this?"

#aventurine honkai star rail #hsr aventurine #star rail aventurine #aventurine #kakavasha #veritas ratio #hsr veritas #aventurine fics #angst #au #hsr au #ratio x aventurine #aventurine x ratio #raturine #ratorine #aventio #dr ratio

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historicfailure · 4 months

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You're trying - trying to survive, keeping your head up, moving forward. And Kakashi seems to do the same. Somehow. Still, how the fuck does he manage to annoy you this much?

~ X ~

Sorry for the long wait! I'm really, really trying. Somehow like the character in this fic lol

TLDR: I know how to write the story, having the energy and time to write it is on a whooooole different page. I have some chapters pre-written now, I will throw them out sporadically etc but no promises.

Anyway, thanks for maybe staying with this fic for so long and hope you guys have fun with this chapter!

~ X ~

“Fuuuuck…” Your eyes were burning. More and more letters blurred together into ugly blobs on your screen the longer you looked at them, but you couldn’t just stop now. Just a few more questions, then you could wrap up the questionnaire and be done for today. Nevermind that it was already way past your usual hours. The evening sun didn’t make things easier: The orange light filtering through the blinds easily and directly onto the screen. With a low sigh, you leaned back into your chair, let your head tip backwards and stretched your back. Bones cracked loudly, making you sigh again, though this time in relief at the tension fading away in your entire body. More bones popped loudly as you stretched, yawning and moving like a lazy cat, your back arched and balancing yourself in your chair.

A few steps away from your desk were in order. Definitely. As you stood up, you could look around and groaned loudly.

“Seriously?” There was no one else on the floor left. All the desks were empty, PCs shut off and lights shut down. One look at a nearby clock made you wince. Fuck. It was closing in on 8PM, nearly three hours after you usually left for the day.

Your eyes wandered to the doors leading towards freedom, fresh air and a good night full of sleep. Potentially a quick meal as well. Right on cue, your stomach rumbled, loudly demanding anything to fill it, preferably something fatty and hearty.

“Well, that was clear.”

“Holy-!” You flinched around, one hand flying to your chest. “Fuck, you can’t just-!”

“Sneak up on people?” Kakashi sounded annoyingly unapologetically. The creases around his eyes deepend by a notch. “Yeah, so I have been told a few times.”

“Then why don’t you listen?”

He shrugged. “It’s too much fun seeing the reactions.”

“Oh, you-!” Just barely, you bit your tongue. Nothing you could say would affect him or change his behavior in any way possible. Better to save your energy for the task you still had to complete. “Fine. At least I’m awake now.”

“To do what?” Kakashi nodded at your PC. “Work more? While I can hear your stomach grumble from here?”

“Not much of a choice. The questionnaire is nearly done. I just want to get this over with, then it’s at least,” you rolled your eyes at the screen, glaring as you did so, “done for today.”

“True that, true that.” He nodded slowly. “Then maybe, this will help.”

Only now, you noticed the small white plastic bag in his hand. He placed the bag on your table, eyes fixed on your face and with the small creases around them still in place. “Tadaa.”

“What is that”, you asked as you were already stepping closer, “some kind of bribe attempt?”

“Possibly. Is it working?”

“Depends on the bribe.” Cautiously, you pulled the plastic away to reveal white paper, made to hold together food. “Say, what did you get me?”

“Maybe, if you would stop treating some food like I hid a bomb in there, you could find out yourself.”

“Or you could just tell me.” Despite your words, you picked the mystery food out of the bag and started to unfold the waxy paper. The instant you saw some luscious green and the bright red of a tomato peek through the white, you knew what Kakashi had purchased. “You went back to the café?”

Kakashi hummed lowly. “Yup. Saw you sitting here still when I wanted to go out myself, and thought you could use some food. I even asked you, but you were so out of it you didn’t even react.”

You winced. “Oh god, I’m so sorry. It has been… a long day and I wanted to get this done.”

“Hey, I get it.” His hands rose before they dropped back to his sides, hands sneaking in the pockets of his pants. “Sometimes, work is just swallowing you whole. Hard to tear yourself away.”

“Yeah.” Carefully, you freed the BLT-sandwich from the paper, until you could take a first cautious bite. It was just as delicious as you remembered from yesterday. “Fuck, this is great. Thank you.”

“No problem.” Kakashi still smiled as you took bite after bite from the sandwich. “Just wanted to make sure you’re not devouring the table or something.”

“Because Kushina would have to replace it?”

“Something like that.” He paused for a moment, before pulling out Kurenai’s chair and sitting down. It looked like he wanted to get comfy and stay for a bit longer, and now as you had a bit of food, you were more than willing to allow him that. “How are you doing?”

Between bites, you thought for a moment. “It’s going good,” you paused slightly, trying to find the most fitting words, “I think. Just taking a bit longer today than I expected. I want to get this questionnaire done, just so we can continue with the next step of the campaign.”

“No, no.” Kakashi chuckled. Like it was an instinct for him, he leaned further back in the chair, silver hair falling into his face. “I mean, how are you doing? Not work.”

“Oh.” That you didn’t expect. Not at all. You paused for a few seconds, taking another bite as you did so. “I guess… It’s good. It’s okay, right now.”

“Not too stressed?”

“No. It’s… it’s really alright.”

“Okay.” Kakashi nodded slowly. His dark eyes bore into yours, and you found yourself caught in a snare. Like a rabbit sitting right across a snake, enraptured and hypnotized right in the face of danger. Because Kakashi was danger, in every sense of the word — for you as a member of the marketing firm, and for you as a human being. Because, as you were again painfully reminded, Kakashi was, well, beautiful.

Even now, in your exhausted, tired and yet wired state of too much energy due to work and freshly refueled with delicious food, you were more than ready to admit that he was. There was a reason why he could easily flirt with the secretary downstairs, or get phone numbers pushed onto him like crazy. Even though he didn’t try hard, his silver hair, slouched posture speaking of his overall nonchalance and the casual yet somehow chic way of dressing himself, really worked out for him. Subconsciously, you tried to straighten yourself out as well as brush off some bread crumbs off your chest and mouth. And wait, wasn’t there also some sauce stuck to the corner of your mouth?

Kakashi chuckled. “Something the matter?”

“No.”

“Well then…” Again, he nodded, only to get up and put his hands back into the pockets of his loose pants. “I’m going to go, but don’t stay for too long.”

“Sure. It’s just a few more questions, anyway.” You shrugged weakly, like it was no big deal.

He hummed. “That’s what we all think, but before we know it, we’re working until midnight on the smallest of details to get it just right. Take care.” And with that, he just… up and left. Didn’t wait for you to answer, just walked away, like he just hadn’t handed you a sandwich, asked about your wellbeing or gave you some friendly advice. Carefully, you looked down at the rest of the sandwich in your hands, only to take another bite. This time though, you were cautious, tasted the entirety of the sandwich and tried to treasure it.

Fuck. He is nice to me now. This feels… really, really weird. Somehow.

~ X ~

Long evening yesterday? Good job in getting the work done, but remember to rest well today. You deserve it.

~ X ~

The questionnaire was doing well so far. You wanted to say the questions were good and well received because they were all created during a long yet productive all-nighter, the reality though was that after you finished the sandwich Kakashi gave you a few days back, you simply went back home. Next morning, with fresh eyes and mind, you were able to look at the questionnaire once more and find several typing errors and clarity issues, which would have impacted the research severely if you didn’t fix it.

Looking at the results, lots of people noticed the change of the brand Akatsuki from being cozy, well-fitted home clothes to a more expensive lifestyle-brand, not aimed anymore at the masses. Honestly, you hadn’t needed the questionnaire to tell you that, but it was nice to have something on paper to prove to the managers of Akatsuki that this was how their brand was seen.

After a day of compiling all the results into a single document, you were happy, noticing that you only stayed for a bit longer than your usual working time. You would still be able to go to a nearby store and get one of the ready-to-go meals, so you could have a lazy evening tonight!

Quickly, you packed up all of your things. In the process, your eyes wandered around the room. There were quite a few people still there, but none of them looked like they would stay for more than two hours, max. Anko definitely was staying for a bit longer, she had already said so during your shared lunch break. For a second, you thought about saying your goodbye’s to her directly, but when she grumbled loudly, only to curse and smash her flat hand onto the desk in front of her so hard that several pens and pencils scattered around the table flew into all directions, you decided it was better for your own safety to keep your distance.

But as you took the first steps towards freedom, your wandering eyes also flew to the corner of the wide open office, where Kakashi’s table sat in his little, secluded alcove. And there he was still, just barely visible over his two wide screens, some wisps of silver hair peeking over, illuminated by the blue hue of the screen-lighting.

I should probably check up on him.

Ah, he is fine. He doesn’t need me asking if he’s alright.

Kakashi suddenly groaned; so loudly that your thought process came to a screeching halt. You watched how he got out of his seat, but not to pack up his things and leave as well, but to grab his coffee cup and march right past you towards the kitchen. Without a doubt to grab some coffee, potentially staying late to work on something.

I probably should do something for him.

Why the fuck should I?

Because he got me something to eat yesterday.

I don’t have to.

He didn’t have to, either. And what did he do?

… Got me a sandwich.

Just barely, you kept an eye roll in. Right. As far as you were concerned, you owed Kakashi something in return. And even after a long day of work, you could at least do that for him. After another moment of hesitant annoyance, you adjusted the strap of your bag again and walked towards the break room. Even from a few meters away, you could hear the barely concealed slamming of cabinet doors as well as Kakashi’s irritated grumbling.

Do I really want to annoy him in this state?

Before you could rethink your decision, you looked around the corner. And winced at the sight: Kakashi obviously wasn’t in the best of moods. The man was standing beside the coffee machine, cursing under his breath all the while watching how the coffee slowly pooled into his cup. As you watched on, he unfolded his crossed arms to angrily comb through his hair — or, to be more precise, to pull some of it out with the force of his motions.

Gently and already regretting the motion as you were reaching out, you rapped your knuckles against the doorframe.

“Hey…” When Kakashi turned slightly to look at you, you nearly shrank back behind the corner of the door. Why again did you have to say anything to him now? “Just wanted to ask if you want anything?”

With his eyebrows furrowed and forehead wrinkled up, Kakashi stared at you for a few seconds. Then, he closed his eyes and a big sigh dropped from his mouth, dropping his shoulders and attitude with it. “Ah, fuck. I thought I was alone.”

“Well, in a few minutes, you will be.” That wasn’t what you expected. At all. Slowly, you stepped into the bright, cold light of the kitchen spilling through the open door, while gripping the strap of your bag tightly. “I was just asking. Because of…”

He nodded. “The sandwich from last time. Don’t worry about it. I’m not hungry.”

“Oh. Uhm, okay. Well…”

For a few more seconds, you waited. Kakashi only looked at you, unflinching and unyielding. The silence stretched into eternity, and instead of thinning and out and ending the talk naturally, the air seemed to thicken with every passing second.

“If you don’t mind,” Kakashi suddenly spoke up, just when you tried to turn to leave, “would you take a look at some ideas I have? I’m… fucking stuck right now.”

Oh.

“You’re stuck?”

“Yes.” Again, one of his hands flew up to comb furiously through his hair. “And I hate it.”

He didn’t elaborate, didn’t explain more than that, didn’t even attempt to. His dark eyes just focused again on the cup of coffee, staring and brooding and… being a bit more like the anti-social bastard he had been to you all this time.

Just this once, then we’re even, and I can let this go, you told yourself. Just this once, and I don’t have to talk to him ever again.

And it would be beneficial to take a look at his first plans for a campaign, anyway. High time for some in-team communication and all that.

“Okay.” You shrugged weakly, while internally praying that it wouldn’t take that long. Turning around, you sighed internally, but just dropped your stuff by your desk as you passed by, eyes set on the dimly lit corner of the open office. A few lights around the office were on, but in Kakashi’s corner, only his computer screens were illuminating the looming darkness, painting shadows across the nearby walls of his little alcove. A cave for this man-troll. How fitting.

Suddenly, the man brushed past you. His scent filled your nose, lingered uncomfortably, only to dissipate after a few deep breaths in.

“Hiding your porn?” you asked, tone only slightly mocking. “Must be really disgusting if you’re running.”

Kakashi was bent over his keyboard. His hand moved; moved the mouse quickly. One, two quick clicks, in which you closed the distance and managed to take a first peek at the screens. To your disappointment, there was nothing incriminating there, just lots and lots of pages of Akatsuki-clothing as well as the opened Photoshop program.

There wasn’t much to see. A half-finished moodboard, you guessed, with lots of quite meaningless objects slapped onto one side. The other half of the layer was empty. Your eyes dropped to the desk, which was overflowing with mess, notes in Kakashi’s chicken scratches, and a few scattered pens and pencils, one of them a particularly fancy pen in a dark, glossy black with silvery lines running around the body.

“That’s…”

“It’s nothing. I know.”

“Uhm…” You shrugged weakly. “How am I supposed to help with that?”

“Some fresh eyes on my notes would be great, actually.” With a sigh, Kakashi handed you a few sheets of paper, filled with scribbles and notes which also could have been hieroglyphs as far as you were concerned. Some words actually could have been hieroglyphs.

For a few moments, you tried to decipher the words, but nothing made sense to your tired eyes. Hell, you already spent the entire day leaning way too close to a computer screen, and now this? Fuck this.

When you looked up, Kakashi was intently watching your every move. Almost eagerly, akin to a dog waiting for a reaction when dropping a ball in front of a pair of human legs. “And?”

“Honestly Kakashi… I can’t read this.”

“Ah, it cannot be that bad…”

“No, I literally can’t read this.” You waved the papers into his face. “To be frank, your handwriting is horrible. And here’s not much lighting, so my eyes are starting to hurt just by looking at this.”

A hint of a smile flashed over his face. Though, that impression only lasted for a second, as he mumbled something incoherent and turned to click on the lamp. Light blinded you, and you had to blink rapidly to restore some of your vision.

“Thank you.” You put down the stack of notes, trying to focus and make some sense of his handwriting. “I mean, there’s… nostalgia?”

“Yeah.” Kakashi shrugged weakly. “The new direction Akatsuki is driving at the moment gives me nothing. I’m honestly grasping at straws here.”

“So much so that you’re reaching out to me. I see.”

Thankfully, Kakashi decided not to answer. Honestly, any answer he could have given would have annoyed you even more than you already were. The good mood you harbored over being able to leave earlier than yesterday already evaporated, wiped away by now knowing without a doubt in your mind that Kakashi was one of the sporadically creative people: incredibly valuable if they were inspired, but hindering the process when they didn’t have an inkling of inspiration.

“Okay, this…” You sighed lowly. “This is a big problem. The first meeting with the representatives of Akatsuki is in what, two weeks?”

“Roughly. A little bit less than two weeks.”

Another sigh left your mouth, and you started to massage your temple. You could feel a headache forming right behind your forehead. “Alright. Sure. Let’s just… what do you think of when you think of the new design line?”

“Pretentious.”

“Something positive.”

“Mhm. Maybe…?” The man cocked his head to the side, one hand thoughtfully touching his chin. “Nostalgia.”

“That’s already on here.” You pointed at the stack of papers. “Something else.”

“Capitalism.”

“Even though I agree, we can’t successfully market that idea and expect a profit. Now, something we can market…”

Kakashi thought for a moment. “Higher quality?”

“Great. Work from there, I guess.”

“Sounds good to me.” Kakashi smiled at you, but you didn’t smile back. Just nodded at him before turning your back and finally getting ready to leave the office for good today.

You thought you heard a faint “Hey” coming out of his direction, but you just walked a tiny bit faster. It would be easier to pretend to not have heard him. Just… overall easier. For your sanity and the future of your work together; the work obligations you still had to fulfill. Thankfully, you didn’t hear anything else and could leave the office with the tiniest of delays.

~ X ~

A well deserved rest for a valuable team member. I hope you enjoyed your free night. I would like to think that one day, I might be brave enough to invite you out on such a night, but for now, I just enjoy the thought that you had some time to yourself.

Good luck today, as well.

~ X ~

“Can I steal you away for a moment?”

Anko, Shizune and Kurenai fell completely silent as you turned to fake-smile at Kakashi. “Thanks, but no thanks. I don’t particularly like to be stolen away from my lunch.” You motioned to the lunchbox on the table in front of you. “Can we talk later?”

Your mood turned sour when he shook his head, albeit apologetically. “I have to run an errand for Minato in a bit, so no. Just five minutes?”

“Fine.” With a low sigh, you stood up from the seat which was grouped alongside the others around Shizune’s desk, and followed the man. Not without visually rolling your eyes towards the other women, then shrugging dramatically.

To your mild surprise, Kakashi didn’t lead you towards his desk, but instead opted to exit the open office entirely. When he opened the door leading out into the hallway, he held the door open for you. His eyes found yours, only to quickly drop to the ground.

“Where are we going?” you asked as Kakashi didn’t make any attempts to stop outside in the hallway. Instead, he walked up to the elevators, only to pass by the doors.

Where the fuck was he going?

“Hey,” you spoke up again, trailing after the man like an unwilling donkey dragged up a jagged mountain path as he climbed a set of stairs you had never paid close attention to, “seriously, where are we going?”

“There’s a calm corner upstairs.” Kakashi smiled down at you through the bars of the railing. “Sorry, it just takes a moment.”

“Alright…” Another roll of your eyes, and you started to climb the stairs. At this point, you were just humoring him. First that absolutely ridiculous talk a few days back, showing that he made nearly zero progress with the campaign since the start, and now this? Was he trying to push you off the roof or something? Or something else absolutely ridiculous and over the top, fitting for a Disney channel villain?

Maybe he sings me his little theme song before he steals my soul or something.

Just a few more steps, and Kakashi pushed a heavy door open. You nearly expected him to let it hit you in the face, but he caught it easily and held the door open for you.

“Thanks.” Both of your eyebrows rose. Quickly, you slipped past him, catching a whiff of his scent and a breeze of fresh air from the outside.

The door indeed led onto a small part of the roof which was overshadowed by the building beside you. The rooftop was obviously meant to be visited, though the various signs of non-usage — a bit of dirt here and there, vines overgrowing the walls beside the door, and a few pigeons instantly flying away as you set a few more steps onto the rooftop — indicated that not many people visited.

“Okay. Should be calm enough.” Even though you tried to sound strong and self-assured, you couldn’t help wrapping your arms around yourself. Maybe to protect you from the stronger winds up here, maybe from Kakashi’s intense eyes which seemed to scrutinize you. “What do you want?”

“To thank you.”

“And you couldn’t do that in the office?”

A small chuckle erupted from the man. Casually, he leaned against the wall beside the door, now closed. With him almost guarding your way to escape, it almost seemed like he wanted to pose as Cerberus or something.

Good boy. Now speak.

“Hey, I have some reputation left to protect here.”

“As an antisocial asshole?” You snorted weakly out. “Yeah, a really nice image to maintain. Shouldn’t be changed at all costs. Who knows, people might actually genuinely like you. The horror.”

Again, Kakashi chuckled. He didn’t seem too concerned at the insult you threw at him, no. Lazily, he pushed himself away from the wall, strolled past you to lean against the railing close to the edge. Not a care in the world at the height or the strong winds. “Slowly I get the feeling that you don’t like me.”

“What?”

“Yeah. I’m surprised too.”

There was no way he was that self-conceited. Absolutely no way. You could only stare at his back, and only seconds after his crazy statement, you noticed that your mouth had fallen open. The sheer audacity of this overgrown manchild!

“Who do you think you are?”

Kakashi’s entire body tensed up. He turned his head, eyes finding yours, but you just shook your head and continued. “Who the fuck do you think you are? Some kind of always beloved god who can descend to us mortals and grace us with his fucking presence?”

“I never-!”

“Yeah, you never. You never apologized, properly, for once. You also never stopped and thought about why your actions were such a problem for me. Fuck, you never really took time to reflect on your actions, like any responsible adult would!”

The words just came bubbling to the surface, like you had prepared them for this very moment. Sure, you wanted to act like an adult, but Kakashi had made it hard. So fucking hard, when all you had really gotten was a fine explanation and empty words over a great piece of lasagna. Being civil had been your goal, but this? Him throwing almost in your face how little he truly learned?

Anger bubbled up in your stomach, sourness rising in your throat and your blood rushing in your ears like a storm. Before you knew it, you marched up to him and jammed your index finger into his chest, spitting more of your righteous, built-up fury at his feet. “Did you expect that everything will be alright now? That everything is forgiven and forgotten? Well, excuse me, this is fucking reality, and it doesn’t work like that. It never worked like that.”

Every punctuation you underlined with another push of your finger into his chest. Up close, you could smell Kakashi again, his stench filling your nose like nothing else. Again, you breathed deeply in, and pushed onward. “I tried to be civil. I tried to be nice to you. And you’re trying, I can see that much. My personal problem is, Hatake, that no matter how many sandwiches you buy when I’m doing overtime, or no matter how many times you try to seek me out with friendly banter, it will never be enough to make up for the fact that you humiliated me in front of the entire office.”

Fuck, it felt so good to watch the man deflate. Watching him being dressed down already had been a treat, but doing it yourself with sharp words and an even sharper tone was a fucking feast, five courses and counting.

“You didn’t even apologize”, you breathed out. To your horror, you heard the tremble in your voice, which had been steely and sharp all this time. But not anymore. You swallowed, fought against the burning in your eyes, all the while staring Kakashi down. “The least thing you could do, and you couldn’t even do that. And I, as the idiot I am, even buttered you up! Complimented you because I thought, that…”

“(Y/N)...”

“Don’t fucking talk to me right now.” You stepped backwards, you had to. Anything to hide that you were so close to breaking into angry tears. “Just… leave me the fuck alone from now on. I’m talking with Minato first thing in the morning to remove me from the project, so I don’t have to put up with you anymore.”

Thankfully, Kakashi didn’t call out to you again, and before you left the rooftop through the same door, you didn’t look back. Didn’t want to look back, couldn’t stand to see his stupid, dumb, still attractive face for one more second and pretend like everything was alright.

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