#I love her to death too as I love all of them. but yeah

[bettys-redwinesupernova]

BIGGER THAN THE WHOLE SKY

drew starkey x fem!reader

SUMMARY: while filming an emotional scene, y/n receives devastating news about her mum, leading to a heartbreaking breakdown on set as her boyfriend drew and their co-stars comfort her.

based on this ask !! thank you @xoxosblogsblog for another amazing request, a very emotional one to write as i’ve lost a parent, but it was therapeutic to write <3

(check out my other drew starkey & rafe cameron works here !!)

WARNINGS: death of a parent, crying, panic attack, descriptions of dissociating, grief, the cast being adorable :’), very angsty but a comforting ending !! (lmk if i missed anything !!)

WORD COUNT: 2k

THIRD PERSON +

Y/N sat in her trailer, staring blankly at her reflection in the mirror.

The makeup artists had just left, the remnants of their work leaving her looking polished, camera-ready. Her character was meant to be grieving in today’s scene, but they had only given her a touch of concealer, a dusting of powder to dull the shine of the lights, and a hint of smudged mascara to make it look like she had been crying.

She was supposed to pretend to be devastated.

The irony was almost cruel.

Her phone vibrated against the counter. She glanced down at the screen, expecting to see a message from Drew, maybe a reminder from the assistant director to head to set soon. Instead, her father’s name flashed across the screen.

Her stomach twisted.

It wasn’t like him to call during the day. He knew she was working, knew she was filming one of the biggest scenes of the season. A sudden chill crept up her spine, a visceral knowing before she even answered.

With slightly trembling fingers, she swiped to accept the call.

“Dad?” she answered, her voice steady despite the unease gnawing at her.

There was silence for a beat too long.

Her father was a strong man, always composed, always measured in his words. But when he finally spoke, his voice was hollow, stripped of all its usual warmth.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured, and in just that one word, she felt her world tilt on its axis.

She sat up straighter. “What’s wrong?”

Another pause. Then a sharp inhale, like he was bracing himself.

“It’s your mum,” he said, and the way his voice wavered sent ice coursing through her veins.

Y/N’s fingers tightened around the phone. “What about her?”

His breath hitched, and then—

“She’s gone, love.”

The words didn’t compute. They didn’t make sense, didn’t fit into any conceivable reality she had prepared herself for.

“What?” Her voice cracked, barely above a whisper.

“She passed away this morning.”

Her father’s voice was thick, like he was struggling to hold himself together. But she barely heard him now. The words looped in her mind, repeating over and over, yet still, she couldn’t understand them.

She’s gone. She’s gone. She’s gone.

That wasn’t possible. She had just spoken to her mum a few days ago. She had promised to visit after the season wrapped. She had plans with her, had texts left unanswered, had so many things left unsaid.

A strange ringing noise filled her ears, drowning out whatever else her father was saying. She felt the weight of her own body disappear, like she was floating outside of herself, detached and weightless.

Her vision blurred.

The room around her suddenly felt too small, too quiet. The air too thick.

“… I know you’re at work,” her father was saying, his voice distant, “and I don’t want to take you away from that. There’s nothing you can do right now, sweetheart. I’ll handle everything here. Just—just get through today, yeah? Then we’ll figure everything out.”

Get through today.

That was the only option, wasn’t it?

She would have to book flights, pack a bag, make arrangements—but none of that could happen now. If she left set immediately, what would she do? Sit in a hotel near the airport, trapped with nothing but her grief?

At least here, she had something to do.

At least here, she could pretend for a little longer.

She swallowed, her throat raw. “Okay.”

Her father hesitated. “Y/N—”

“I have to go,” she interrupted, her voice eerily calm.

“Sweetheart, wait—”

But she ended the call.

The phone slipped from her fingers, landing on the counter with a dull clack.

The silence that followed was unbearable.

She stared at the mirror, at the girl looking back at her—the girl who, ten minutes ago, had been fine. Normal. Whole.

Now, she felt like a cracked porcelain doll, barely held together, each fissure running deeper and deeper beneath the surface.

Her face remained passive, her lips slightly parted, her expression unreadable. But her eyes—her eyes gave her away.

She wasn’t there anymore.

She was somewhere else, floating through the spaces between reality and nothingness.

Her body felt heavy, yet she was untethered.

Her fingers curled against her lap, gripping onto the fabric of her costume as if that alone could keep her from slipping away entirely.

It wasn’t real.

It couldn’t be real.

Because if it was—

A soft knock at the door made her flinch.

“Five minutes to set!” called a PA from outside.

She blinked.

Five minutes.

A deep inhale. A slow exhale.

She forced herself to move, to pick up her phone, to smooth down her clothes. She had a job to do.

She pushed everything else aside, packed it into a box, sealed it tight.

She would grieve later.

For now, she would pretend.

She opened the door and stepped onto set, not realising that in just a few short minutes, the cracks in her facade would shatter completely.

—

The set of Outer Banks was alive with the usual buzz of controlled chaos—crew members adjusting lights, directors conferring in hushed tones, the distant hum of the ocean blending into the background. It was supposed to be just another day of filming, another scene to capture before moving on to the next.

It was a heavy one.

Her character had just lost her father. The Pogues were there, trying to comfort her, trying to remind her she wasn’t alone. Even Rafe—played by Drew—stood nearby, a complicated mix of emotions brewing in his expression. The cameras were rolling, capturing everything.

Y/N tried to focus, tried to remember her lines, but something inside her cracked wide open.

She felt the grief swell like a rising tide, swallowing her whole. It was too big, too raw, too real.

When she started crying, no one questioned it. She was an incredible actress—everyone knew that. The scene demanded tears, demanded heartbreak. But as her sobs grew heavier, more uncontrollable, the air on set shifted.

Rudy shot a glance towards Chase, brows furrowed. Madelyn, kneeling beside Y/N in the scene, squeezed her hand, her own eyes glassy with concern. Drew, standing just out of frame, felt his pulse quicken.

Something wasn’t right.

The way Y/N clutched at her chest, the way her breathing hitched, sharp and ragged—it wasn’t just acting anymore.

Still, the cameras kept rolling.

Adrenaline surged through Drew’s veins. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, his instincts screaming at him to cut through the scene, to pull her out of whatever was happening. But he hesitated. Y/N was a professional. If this was her choice, if she was using real emotions to fuel the performance, he had to respect that.

Then she collapsed to her knees.

The sob that tore from her throat wasn’t scripted. It wasn’t crafted for the scene. It was pain—real, unfiltered pain.

That was when the director finally called, “Cut!”

But Y/N didn’t stop.

She was still sobbing, her body trembling, her breath coming in shallow, panicked gasps. The cast and crew hesitated, frozen in the moment, unsure whether they should intervene.

Drew didn’t hesitate.

He was by her side in an instant, dropping to his knees, hands grasping her shoulders. “Hey, hey—Y/N, breathe. You’re okay.”

She wasn’t okay.

Her body was shaking so violently that she could barely hold herself upright. Tears streamed down her face, her expression twisted in anguish.

“Y/N,” Madelyn whispered, stroking her back. “What’s going on?”

“Someone get her water,” Chase called, already stepping forward.

Drew cupped her face, forcing her to look at him. “Love, talk to me.”

But she couldn’t.

The world around her blurred at the edges, the voices of her friends distant, muffled. She felt like she was floating—adrift in a sea of grief, unable to grasp onto anything solid.

“Come on, baby,” Drew pleaded, his own voice shaking now. “You’re scaring me.”

Y/N gasped for air, her chest constricting so tightly it hurt. She couldn’t think, couldn’t speak.

Madelyn was rubbing soothing circles into her back, whispering soft reassurances, while Rudy and Jonathan exchanged worried glances. The crew had fallen into an uneasy silence, watching the scene unfold.

Finally, through the sobs, through the suffocating grief, Y/N forced out the words that shattered the air around them.

“My mum… she’s gone.”

Drew’s heart stopped.

The words didn’t register at first. He blinked at her, his grip tightening instinctively.

“What?” he breathed.

Y/N choked on another sob, pressing her hands to her face as if she could somehow block it all out.

“My dad called me before we filmed,” she whimpered. “She—she died. I—I didn’t know what to do—I thought I could just—” She gasped, shaking her head frantically. “I thought I could just get through the day, but—”

Drew didn’t let her finish.

He pulled her into his arms, holding her so tightly it felt like he was trying to fuse them together. She collapsed into him, gripping the fabric of his shirt with desperate hands.

The rest of the cast looked on, their own eyes brimming with emotion. Madelyn covered her mouth with her hands, tears slipping down her cheeks.

“Jesus, Y/N…” Chase muttered, running a hand through his hair. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

“I—” Her voice broke again. “I couldn’t.”

“You don’t have to do this alone,” Drew murmured against her hair. His own eyes were wet now, his throat thick with emotion. “We’re here. I’m here.”

She let out a broken whimper, gripping him tighter.

Madelyn sat beside them, wrapping her arms around Y/N from behind. Rudy joined a moment later, then Jonathan, then Chase. A pile of bodies, all holding onto her, surrounding her with warmth, with love.

The weight of Y/N’s revelation hung heavy in the air, casting a sombre pall over the once-bustling set. The cast remained huddled around her, their collective warmth a fragile barrier against the encroaching chill of grief.

Drew held her as if anchoring her to the present, his fingers gently threading through her hair. “We’re here, love,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re not alone.”

Madelyn, her own tears silently falling, whispered soothing words, her hand never leaving Y/N’s back. “It’s okay to let it out. We’re with you.”

Chase knelt beside them, his usual playful demeanour replaced with earnest concern. “Whatever you need, Y/N. We’re family.”

Rudy and Jonathan exchanged glances, their eyes reflecting a shared resolve. “We’ll get through this together,” Jonathan said softly, his voice steady.

As Y/N’s sobs gradually subsided into quiet tremors, the director approached, his expression a mix of compassion and uncertainty. “Is there anything we can do?” he asked gently.

Drew looked up, his eyes red-rimmed but determined. “I think she needs some time. We… we need to get her home.”

The director nodded, understanding the unspoken request. “Of course. We’ll arrange for flights immediately. The production will cover all expenses.”

Y/N lifted her head, her eyes swollen and glassy. “I don’t want to be a burden,” she whispered, her voice hoarse.

“You’re not,” Madelyn insisted, squeezing her hand. “You’re family.”

The crew moved with quiet efficiency, making the necessary arrangements. Within the hour, flights were booked for Y/N and Drew to return to her hometown. The cast remained by her side, offering silent support as she navigated the haze of shock and sorrow.

As they prepared to leave, Y/N turned to her friends, her voice trembling. “Thank you… all of you.”

Chase stepped forward, enveloping her in a gentle embrace. “We’ll be here when you’re ready to come back.”

Rudy nodded, his eyes earnest. “Take all the time you need.”

Jonathan offered a reassuring smile. “We’ll keep things running smoothly here.”

Madelyn hugged her tightly, her voice breaking. “We love you.”

Drew took Y/N’s hand, their fingers intertwining. “Let’s go home,” he said softly.

As they departed, the set remained in a hushed stillness, a testament to the profound impact of shared grief and the strength of chosen family.

The grief wouldn’t disappear. The pain wouldn’t lessen. But in that moment, she wasn’t alone.

And for now, that was enough.

(divider by @kodaswrld !!)

betty’s notes ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

this was a every emotional one, but i hope you all enjoy it !! my requests are still open until i go away on wednesday so please send some in :)

as always, likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated <3

[3igbootyl0ver]

doctor's in [pt.2]

pairing: tara carpenter x reader

summary: When you both couldn't stop thinking about each other, Fate had pushed you both together once again. And this time? Neither of you planned on fighting it.

word count: 4249

a/n: heyyy.......

“Mindy you don’t get it, they were so cute!” Tara groaned, covering her face with her hands to cover up the blush that was forming.

It’s been a week since Tara and her mind has been filled with you since she saw you at the hospital. She couldn’t help but wonder if you felt the same spark between you both. She wasn’t going crazy right? She definitely felt it, unless she was going crazy from the amount of attacks she went through.

“Okay, lovergirl,” Mindy teased, grinning as she nudged Tara’s shoulder. “You barely know them, and you’re already acting like a lovesick puppy.”

Tara groaned again, flopping onto the couch. “I can,’t help it! They were just…ugh, perfect.” “Have you checked if they’re not secretly Ghostface who wants to kill you?” Mindy quipped, watching Tara roll her eyes and ignore the comment

Mindy smirked. “So, what’s the plan? Gonna fake another near-death experience just to see them again?” Tara shot her a glare. “Not funny.” “Then find them,” Mindy said with a shrug. “You have their last name, their workplace, and yet, somehow, it never crossed your mind to look them up? Come on, Tar, get it together.”

Tara blinked. That… wasn’t a bad idea. “Why didn’t I think of that?” She muttered, already reaching for her phone.

Mindy snorted, “Because you’re too busy daydreaming about them like this is some rom-com—where they’ll show up at your doorstep if you think about them hard enough.”

Tara ignored her, already unlocking her phone. Her fingered hovered over the keyboard. Was this weird? What if you don’t remember her?

Mindy sighed dramatically after seeing her hesitation. “Oh my god, just do it. Worst case? Nothing comes up. Best case? You find them, fall madly in love, and live happily ever after.”

Tara rolled her eyes but took a deep breath and typed your last name into the search bar.

———

“Holy shit, they are cute. And here I thought you just had a weird thing for old geezers,” Mindy tease, leaning over to peek at Tara’s phone. “They look way too young to be a doctor, though” 

Tara didn’t respond—mostly because she was too busy staring. Yeah, she was definitely drooling. 

She’d gotten lucky, stumbling across a picture of you on the hospital’s website; It was a group photo, one where you were right beside the nurse that Tara had met before. You were all in your glory, looking effortlessly alluring dressed in a crisp white coat, your hair neatly styled, with intelligent eyes that seemed to see right through the screen. The slight tilt of your head gave you an air of quiet confidence, and the tortoiseshell glasses resting on your nose only added to your charm. 

Tara’s faint smile slowly faded as her eyes landed on the nurse beside you—the same nurse Tara had met; the one that stitched her up.

Her hand was casually wrapped around your arm. Of course, you were taken. Tara let out a quiet sigh, ignoring the pang of disappointment settling in her chest.

Her fingers hovered over the screen, debating whether to keep looking or just close the page altogether. She hated this feeling—the stupid twist in her stomach, the sting of something that felt too much like jealousy for someone she barely knew.

“Whoa, hold up—why do you look like you just got stabbed again?” Mindy asked, finally noticing Tara’s expression. Her teasing tone softened just a little. “What happened?”

Tara hesitated before muttering, “They’re probably dating that nurse.” Mindy glanced at the screen and snorted. “That? Please, that’s not dating. That’s just coworker touchy. You’re seriously overthinking it.”

Tara frowned, her grip tightening on her phone. Could that really be true? Just harmless, casual touching? She wanted to believe it—but the doubt still lingered.

“Anyways, we need to hit the library tomorrow for the project,”Mindy said, stretching. “College is gonna kill us if Ghostface doesn’t get to us first.”

Tara barely registered her words, too caught up in the whirlwind on thoughts of you spinning in her head.

———

“Nice work on the surgery, Y/L/N,” Your chief said, offering a brief but approving smile. “By the way, you’ve got your paper due soon. Don’t forget.”

You nodded, trying to hide the rush of adrenaline still coursing through you from the successful procedure. “Got it, I’ll have it ready,” you replied, but your mind was already spinning between the surgical success and the looming deadline. You’d been chipping away at the paper for weeks, yet there was still so much left to do.

“Guess I’ll have to do another all-nighter then,” You murmured under your breath, stripping off your gloves and beginning to clean up.

As you scrubbed your hands, the sterile scent of antiseptic filling the air, your thoughts drifted to something—or rather, someone—else. The girl you met a few weeks ago. The way she had looked at you, eyes warm and filled with something you couldn’t quite name, had lingered in your mind far longer than you expected. It was ridiculous, really. You barely knew her. And yet, the memory of her smile, the quiet ease of your conversation, had carved its way into your thoughts, slipping in when you least expected it.

Would you ever see her again?

You exhaled sharply, shaking your head as if that would clear her from your mind. You had too much on your plate to be thinking about someone who was, for all you knew, just a passing moment. Still, as you finished cleaning up and pulled off your scrub cap, you couldn’t quite ignore the way your heart skipped at the thought. 

You scraped through the rest of the day on autopilot, your body moving through the motions while your mind remained elsewhere—split between the surgery, the looming deadline, and the memory of her. The hours blurred together, a constant cycle of rounds, notes, and half-heard conversations. You barely registered the passing faces, too preoccupied to truly engage.

It wasn’t until a firm hand landed on your shoulder that you jolted, your heart lurching in surprise.

“You good?” A familiar voice asked, tinged with amusement.

You turned quickly, exhaling when you saw your colleague—Stacy—watching you with a raised brow. “Didn’t mean to spook you,” she added, though the smirk on her face suggested she wasn’t exactly sorry.

You forced a tired smile. “Yeah, just…a lot on my mind.”

“That is much obvious.” She crossed her arms, tilting her head while eyeing you knowingly. “And let me guess—it’s not just the paper that’s got you looking like a lovesick zombie.”

You blinked, thrown off for a second. “What?”

Your colleague scoffed, shaking her head. “Please. You’ve been spacing out all day, and I know that look.” Stacy smirked. “It’s her, isn’t it? Tara?”

At the sound of her name, you felt warmth creep up your neck. You opened your mouth to deny it, but the knowing glint in her eyes told you it was useless. Instead, you sighed, running a hand through your hair.

“I don’t even know if I’ll ever see her again,” you admitted.

Stacy shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not. But if she’s got you this distracted, you definitely want to.” She nudged your arm playfully. “So maybe you should do something about it.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “Like I have time for that.”

“Right, because pulling all-nighters over your paper is such a better use of your time,” She teased, crossing her arms with a smirk.

Rolling your eyes, you redirected the conversation before she could drag you any deeper into this mess. “Oh, by the way, I need you to come with me to the library to work on my paper. And don’t forget—you have one too,” you said, keeping your tone deliberately casual, as if you hadn’t just been caught daydreaming about a patient.

Stacy, of course, saw right through you. She just rolled her eyes, nodding along, but her knowing grin didn’t fade. “Mmm-hmm,” she hummed, clearly entertained. “Look, I’m just saying—if she’s still on your mind after all this time, maybe it’s worth figuring out why.”

You wanted to brush it off, just like you had all day, but her words lingered, sticking in your chest in a way you couldn’t ignore. Maybe she had a point. Maybe this wasn’t just some fleeting thought you could dismiss.

Then, just as you started to shake the feeling away, Stacy added with a sly grin, “Oh, I mayyy have forgotten to mention this, but the little birdie was asking a lot of questions about you when I was fixing her up.”

Your stomach dropped. “Wait, what?”

Stacy grinned wider, clearly enjoying this.

“Stacy!”

“See you at six tomorrow!” Stacy called over her shoulder, her tone far too casual for someone who had just casually detonated a bomb in your brain. She walked off without a care, completely ignoring the way you stood frozen in place, struggling to process what she had just dropped on you.

Your mind raced. Tara was asking about me?

You wanted to demand more details, to chase after Stacy and wring the full story out of her, but your body refused to move. Instead, you stood there, replaying her words on a loop while she disappeared down the hall, acting completely oblivious to your impending mental breakdown.

Great. As if you didn’t already have enough on your plate.

———

Dragging yourself into the library, you exhaled tiredly, already dreading the long night ahead. Stacy, walking beside you, nudged your arm with a smirk.

“See? I showed up. I can be responsible,” she said.

“You showed up to watch me suffer,” you muttered, earning a laugh from her.

You weaved through the aisles, looking for an open table in a quieter corner. The library was busier than expected, with students hunched over laptops and textbooks, the soft hum of whispered conversations filling the air. You finally spotted a table near the back and made your way over, dropping your bag onto the chair. And then—

Thunk.

You flinched as another bag landed in the chair across from you at the exact same time.

Your gaze snapped up, and your breath hitched.

Tara.

She blinked at you, clearly just as startled, her hand still resting on the back of the chair.

You opened your mouth, but no words came out. Neither of you had expected to see the other, and for a long second, you just… stared.

“What are you—”

“What are you—”

You both started speaking at the same time, then immediately stopped.

“Oh. My. God.” Mindy’s voice broke the silence as she came up behind Tara, amusement practically radiating off her. “Of all the tables in this library… really?”

Stacy, not missing a beat, leaned against your chair with an expression that screamed this is the best thing that’s happened to me all week. “Huh. What are the odds?”

Tara cleared her throat, shifting her weight. “We… just needed a place to study.”

“So did we,” you said, still trying to process the fact that she was standing in front of you.

Mindy grinned. “Well, I don’t see any other free tables, sooo…” She dramatically pulled out the chair beside Tara and plopped down. “Guess we’re all studying together. How convenient.”

You turned to Stacy, who was already sitting down, looking way too entertained. She shot you a wink (which Tara wasn’t pleased about). You sighed, dragging a hand down your face. This was not how you thought your night would go.

But as you stole a glance at Tara—her eyes flicking to yours for a brief second before she quickly focused on pulling out her laptop—you weren’t sure if it was entirely a bad thing.

You couldn’t hear it, but Mindy leaned over Tara’s ear to whisper, “You’re not lying, they look even better in person.” She teased, which earned a glare from the shorter girl.

———

It seemed as if Mindy and Stacy knew exactly what was happening—and, even worse, had silently decided to team up against you.

You weren’t sure how, but the two of them had effortlessly fallen into some kind of unspoken alliance, exchanging glances and barely hiding their smirks as they settled into their seats. Tara cleared her throat, shifting awkwardly as she opened her laptop. You could tell she was just as thrown off as you were, but neither of you had a chance to process it properly before Mindy spoke up.

“So, funny how you two just happened to pick the same table,” she mused, tapping her fingers on the desk. “Like, out of all the places to sit, here? What are the chances?”

Stacy hummed in agreement, resting her chin in her palm. “Crazy, right? Almost like fate is trying to tell you something.”

You shot her a glare. “Don’t start.”

Tara, meanwhile, was already rolling her eyes at Mindy. “It’s literally just a coincidence.” Mindy gasped dramatically. “Is it though? Is it?”

You groaned, dragging a hand down your face. ��Can we just work on our papers?”

“Of course,” Stacy said innocently, pulling out her notes. “Wouldn’t want to distract you.”

“Not at all,” Mindy added. “You two just carry on. Don’t mind us.”

You didn’t trust them for a second. Neither did Tara, if the suspicious glance she threw Mindy was anything to go by.

Still, despite the heat creeping up your neck, and the undeniable energy lingering between you and Tara, you forced yourself to focus on your laptop screen. You were here to study. That was it.

Even if Stacy and Mindy were whispering to each other like middle schoolers passing notes.

Even if Tara was sitting just close enough that you could pick up the faintest scent of her perfume.

Even if your heart definitely shouldn’t have been beating this fast.

Your train of thought was abruptly derailed when Mindy cleared her throat—loudly, as if she were about to propose a business deal.

“Well,” she started, sitting up straighter, “Stacy and I will be going to grab coffee for us.” She stretched dramatically before giving you and Tara a pointed look. “Behave while we’re gone, kids.”

Before you could even respond, she was already standing up, her grin far too smug for your liking. Stacy, ever the enabler, immediately followed her lead, but not before briefly squeezing your hand—a small, reassuring gesture that, under normal circumstances, you wouldn’t have thought much about.

But Tara definitely did.

You caught the way her expression shifted—just the smallest flicker of something unreadable in her eyes before she quickly refocused on her laptop, fingers poised over the keyboard as if she were suddenly very interested in typing.

Stacy, who definitely noticed too, smirked as she walked off with Mindy, whispering something that made them both chuckle.

You exhaled, rubbing your temple. “I hate them.” Tara let out a dry chuckle, though she still wasn’t looking at you. “They’re insufferable.”

A pause.

The air between you felt heavier now—charged with something neither of you acknowledged, but both of you felt.

You cleared your throat, shifting in your seat. “So… what are you working on?”

Tara finally glanced at you, her lips twitching as if she were fighting back a smirk. “Are we really doing small talk?”

“Well, considering our mutual friends just abandoned us for their little matchmaking scheme, I figured I might as well try to act normal.”

Tara hummed, tilting her head slightly. “And you’re sure Stacy’s not just your girlfriend?”

Your brain short-circuited for a second. “Wait—what?”

Tara shrugged, feigning nonchalance as she focused back on her screen. “Nothing. Just… looked like flirting to me.”

You blinked, still trying to process the fact that she had even said that. And—was that a hint of something else in her tone?

You shook your head, exhaling a laugh. “Stacy? No. Absolutely not.”

Tara raised a skeptical brow but didn’t press further. Still, the fact that she even asked made something flutter in your chest.

“Well, how’s your injuries holding up? Your stitches healing okay?” You asked, genuinely curious, but also trying to find a way to keep the conversation flowing.

Tara gave you a sidelong glance before shrugging. “Yeah, they’re fine. Stacy did a good job.”

You raised an eyebrow, a mischievous grin forming. “Oh, so now you’re saying Stacy’s the one to thank for that? I’m hurt, Tara.”

She chuckled, rolling her eyes at you. “Don’t be dramatic. You did your part. And don’t pretend you weren’t already planning on making a joke about my stitches anyway.”

You leaned in slightly, lowering your voice. “What can I say? I’m a professional.”

Tara shot you a skeptical look, but the faintest smile tugged at her lips. “Yeah, well, professionals don’t flirt with their patients.”

You gave her a playful shrug, deciding to go for it. “You say flirting, I say charming.”

Tara raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained. “You’re full of yourself, huh?”

You leaned back, casually adjusting your posture. “Only when I’m in the presence of such impressive company.” Tara couldn’t suppress a smirk this time, but she quickly shook her head, pretending to go back to her work. “You really think you’re smooth, don’t you?”

“Just speaking the truth,” you shot back, a little bolder now. “You’re hard to resist, you know.”

Tara glanced up at you, her gaze lingering for a moment longer than necessary. “Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that.” The playful back-and-forth settled into a comfortable rhythm, neither of you pushing too hard, but both of you enjoying the easy tension building in the air. 

Every time Tara’s eyes flicked to yours or the corner of her mouth quirked up, you couldn’t help but feel like there was something more beneath the surface. “Just for the record,” you added casually, “If I had been the one stitching you up, I would’ve made sure those stitches were extra perfect.”

Tara raised an eyebrow. “Oh, would you now?”

“Absolutely,” you grinned. “Can’t let a beautiful patient like you go home with anything less than perfect work.”

Tara laughed softly, shaking her head. “You’re impossible.”

“But I’m charming,” you teased.

Her smile softened as she met your gaze, and for a brief moment, the playful banter was replaced by something warmer. “Yeah, you might be right about that.”

———

The slight banter had toned down once you both were “focusing” on your work. As much as you would’ve liked to keep up the ‘flirting’, you really had to get something—anything—done before the night was over.

Tara, on the other hand, was panicking.

Her fingers hovered over her keyboard, occasionally typing a few words just to make it seem like she was working. But in reality, she wasn’t processing a single thing on her screen. Her mind kept replaying the way you’d leaned in, the way your voice had dropped just slightly, the way you’d so effortlessly called her beautiful—like it was the most natural thing in the world.

She barely suppressed a groan, shifting in her seat in frustration.

Get a grip, Carpenter.

“Alright, nerds, we’re back,” she announced, placing a tray of coffee cups on the table. “And we come bearing life-saving caffeine.”

Stacy set down another tray beside her, grinning. “Each of these has at least three shots of espresso. If we crash, we crash together.”

You raised an eyebrow as you grabbed your cup. “So basically, we’re all risking heart palpitations tonight.”

“Exactly,” Mindy said with a smirk, handing Tara her drink. “But hey, maybe some of us need the extra boost. You looked a little distracted over here.”

Tara froze for half a second before glaring at her. “I was working.”

Mindy smirked. “Sure you were.”

You took a sip of your coffee, trying to hide your amused expression as Stacy slid into her seat next to you, nudging your arm. “So,” she whispered low enough that only you could hear, “how was your study date?” You rolled your eyes but didn’t answer, which only made her smirk widen.

Tara, meanwhile, was gripping her cup a little too tightly, her face heating up all over again. She swore she’d get Mindy back for this later.

Tara had to admit it—the whole time you were talking to Stacy about your… doctor stuff, her heart was doing that annoying fluttering thing she couldn’t control.

She wasn’t even following half of what you were saying, something about procedures and techniques that had no business sounding as good as they did coming from your mouth. But there was something about the way you spoke—so confident, so passionate—that made her yearn for more.

The way your lips moved, the occasional smirk tugging at the corners of your mouth when you made a sarcastic remark, the way your eyes lit up when you explained something in detail—Tara was done for.

She hated it.

Well.

She tried to hate it.

But as much as she wanted to focus on literally anything else, all she could think about was how easy it would be to just close the space between you, to press her lips against yours just to see if you tasted as sweet as you sounded.

God, get it together, Carpenter.

She snapped out of it just as Stacy nudged your arm, laughing at something you said. Tara clenched her jaw.

She was definitely not jealous. Not at all.

———

After what felt like an eternity—and far too much caffeine—you finally stretched in your chair, letting out a deep sigh. Your brain was fried, your eyes burned from staring at your screen for so long, but at least you had something to show for it.

“Done,” you muttered, closing your laptop with finality.

Across from you, Tara let out a breath of relief, mirroring your actions. “Thank God.”

Mindy and Stacy, who had been whispering to each other suspiciously for the past twenty minutes after apparently, “needing a break from work”, perked up at the sound.

“Finally!” Mindy groaned, dramatically throwing her head back. “I thought I was gonna die in here.”

“You’re so dramatic,” Tara scoffed, standing up and stretching.

Stacy grinned, nudging you again as she gathered her things. “So, was this the most productive study session you’ve ever had?”

You shot her a glare, but before you could reply, Mindy cut in.

“I don’t know, Stacy. I think our dear friend here got a lot out of it.” She wiggled her eyebrows, looking between you and Tara. “Maybe not just in an academic sense.”

Tara groaned, rubbing her temple. “I hate you.”

Mindy beamed. “I know.”

You sighed, standing up and slinging your bag over your shoulder. “Are we leaving or are you two just gonna keep being insufferable?”

Stacy looped an arm through yours with a smirk. “Oh, we can do both.”

Tara shook her head, but you caught the way she fought back a smile. As you all stepped out into the cool night air, the exhaustion was undeniable, but so was the warmth lingering from the night’s unexpected turns.

Maybe Stacy and Mindy’s antics weren’t entirely awful.

“It was nice seeing you again, really. I’m glad you healed up well.” You announced, trying to create a conversation after all four of you packed up and left the library. You couldn’t help but notice how both of you slowed down your paced, trying to match each other’s steps without really meaning to.

Tara glanced up at you, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her eat. “Yeah… you too.” Her voice softer than before, lacking the usual sarcasm she used as a shield.

You smiled, shoving your hands into your pockets as the cool night air settled around you. “Hopefully next time we see each other, it won’t be because of an injury.”

Tara smirked. “So you’re saying you want to see me again?”

You chuckled, tilting your head slightly. “I mean… I wouldn’t complain.”

She bit her lip, looking away briefly before glancing back at you. “Well, if you ever get tired of pulling all-nighters over medical papers, maybe we could… I don’t know, run into each other somewhere else.”

You raised an eyebrow, a teasing grin forming. “Are you asking me out, Carpenter?”

Tara rolled her eyes but didn’t deny it. Instead, she reached for your phone—the one you had been absentmindedly holding—and swiftly typed something before handing it back.

You glanced down at the screen.

A new contact.

Tara :)

You raised an eyebrow, smirking as you looked back up at her. “Oh? Giving me your number now? Bold move, Carpenter.”

She shrugged, but the slight flush on her cheeks gave her away. “Just in case, you know… you ever need to run into me again.”

You chuckled, saving the contact without hesitation. “Noted.”

Tara lingered for a second, like she was debating something. Then, with a small smirk of her own, she added, “Don’t keep me waiting too long, doctor.”

You smiled. “Get home safe, Carpenter.”

Tara bit her lip before responding, her voice softer this time. “You too, doctor.”

And with that, she turned and walked toward Mindy, who was very clearly trying to contain her excitement. Stacy nudged you as you stared after her, shaking her head with a knowing grin.

“Don’t say a word,” you muttered as you walked off with her.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Stacy teased. “I don’t need to. That look on your face says everything.”

You just shook your head, unable to stop the small smile forming on your lips.

“Oh, you’re so done for,” she teased.

Maybe you were.

And for once?

You didn’t mind one bit.

———

a/n: i know i said i would posted this like at least a week ago but i was literally sick for the whole week guys lol mb. anyways i do have a few pics planned out, but it's not confirmed when or if I'll ever do it lol since i don't really have much time to write nowadays. ok bye i hoped you liked this fic hehehe

p.s any doctor stuff that's inaccurate don't blame me idk how med school works and stuff; blame google instead :p

[lucygraysboy]

“my ma had once attempted to teach me when i was little, but i was too rambunctious to be able to focus on knitting for more than fifteen minutes. promise i’m a lot more patient now,” the cowboy laughs, pale blue eyes taking in the look on lucy gray’s face, hypnotized. these doe-like hues will be the death of him. all the kindness that’s buried deep inside her chest seems to be shining right through, making him feel so mushy and warm on the inside. she truly deserves the world, and he’ll do everything in his power to give it to her. “speakin’ of songs… was you singin’ a song when i first saw you? i was so exhausted and dehydrated, it’s all so blurry now but i thought i was at the gates of heaven and an angel was welcomin’ me with a song. what were you singin’ ‘bout?” he wonders out loud, just now reminded of the moment he first laid eyes on her. he was so out of it, and now he can barely tell what really happened and what’s only a figment of his imagination. “thanks for thinkin’ so. i didn’t want ‘im to be no outlaw. i wanted ‘im to have an honest job an’ a good life.” but now that joe’s gone, billy can’t help but wonder if maybe he was a little too hard on the boy, expected too much of him. “always. well, except for the time i went and beat up her husband ‘cause he kept makin’ her cry, bringin’ no money home, stealin’ hers… spendin’ it all in brothels and saloons. she told me to leave ‘im be, but i couldn’t.” his pride and honor and the love he had for her wouldn’t let him. 

“yeah? good ‘cause i would never.” boss her around. he thinks that’s how it should be — men should listen to women more often, they’d benefit from that. “i’m mr. sugar bucket sweet potato, and you’re miss birdie boo little carrot,” he laughs, not caring the names make little to no sense. it’s the thought and affection that counts. “i mean, i kind of understand. if i was a goat, i wouldn’t let no strange cowboy near my udders either. i’d kick ‘im in the head.” expression softening as she touches his cheek, his heart melting into a puddle, making it difficult for him to focus on anything but the way her hand feels so nice and somehow soothes the sunburn on his skin. “i’m hungry, too. it’s ‘cause of that lake. water always makes you hungry, is what i’ve noticed.” he follows her back outside, where the last rays of the setting sun have painted the porch a warm, golden hue. it’s a little more humid now, but the wind remains pleasant, lacking its bite. he lays the potatoes down on the table and takes a seat opposite to her, just so that he can admire her beautiful features in this light. if he only could paint, he’d paint her like this. “this is real nice. this table, i mean. beautiful carpentry.” he praises, but what he actually means is this, the two of them doing something so mundane together after a long, fun day, is nice. he wouldn’t mind spending every afternoon for the rest of his life doing this. “i don’t know if i’ve ever told you this, but i’m a very experienced potato-peeler. it was always my job to peel ‘em when i was little,” he brags with a smile, his hands, rough and calloused moving with practiced ease, as if peeling potatoes was as natural as roping a steer to him. 

"that's exactly why i was thinkin' it'd be good to teach you." he already read her mind, she was thinking it could be useful when he sets out on his own. a shy smile spills over kind visage at being called sweet, of course she remembered. and of course each time he says another sweet thing, it flushes her in a warm sensation of love. fills that void and all the hurt that being talked down to by the preacher that has carved a hole in her chest with, a little at each time. "course i think so. poem's are beautiful. poem's are a lot like songs... and i do love writin' songs." speaking fondly, smiling affectionately. "well, for some reason i think that's cute," lucy gray laughs, the part about bossing his brother around because he wanted to take good care of him. "and at least you listened to your mother." so safe to say, she finds that cute too. putting a cute grin on her face because it's adorable he was stubborn but still so respectful to his mama. "i'm just playin' with you, billy. i don't think you would." a gentle expression softens her features as she peers up at him, after handing him his armful of vegetables. "you're a sweet potato." since they're holding potatoes, small laugh emitting.

hand reaches up to gently pat his cheek, he's so cute, he's gotta stop being that cute in personality and his eyes are too big and pure for her heart to handle. "it's best i do that, anyway. she really is picky with that. she might really try to bite you if you grab on her udders." the brunette laughs, but genuinely feels bad for shamus for being scarred by men. "i'm hungry." amusingly replying, scooping out an armful of carrots next before shutting the lid back. "alright, let's go." grabbing a pan, she leads them back out of the house and off the porch and climbs onto the picnic table's seat before dumping her vegetables on the table top and sitting the pan down. she's got a knife sitting in the middle, she goes ahead and grabs that and starts cutting.

[semisasseater]

YOU THE TYPA GIRL TO REALLY HEAL MY SCAR ─ se-mi

pairing : gf!se-mi x fem!reader Tw : Angst, trauma, PTSD, implied violence, mentions of death, emotional distress, survivor’s guilt, lying/deception, but ends with comfort/fluff. Summary : se-mi was filled with guilt. she felt like she should’ve died, until she remembered why she kept going and came back to the reason she kept going. wc : 2.2k (i think.) authors note : guys don’t attack me but i don’t read bad thinking diary.. so uh yeah but the photos look cute and aesthetically so! also guys it’s mine and my wife gabby 9 year anniversary of being together!! we’re getting married soon trust!! she’s mine yall sorry not sorry heh.. Not proofread

if you enjoyed likes or reblogs would be amazing! feedback is appreciated also requests are open!!

The sound of a metal car door creaking open was deafening in the silence. The cold night air hit se-mi’s skin as she went outside for the first time in weeks. The streetlights flickered overhead, bathing the pavement in a dim glow, but nothing felt real. It was too quiet. Too normal.

Her hands clenched tightly around the credit card she carried after she got untied and took it out her mouth—stuffed full of blood money. Money that had come at the cost of hundreds of lives. Her legs trembled beneath her as she took cautious steps forward, half-expecting another game to start, another command to follow.

But it was over.

She had won.

The images of the games flashed through her mind. The red light, green light massacre. The six-legged race where she had barely escaped elimination. Mingle, where players had to form groups in rooms or be shot on the spot in rooms or not in a room. And Lights Out—the nightmarish free-for-all where trust had meant nothing, where she had to kill or be killed.

Her breath hitched as she remembered the blood on her hands, the screams, the desperation.

She should be dead.

And yet, here she was.

Shakily, se-mi reached for her phone, which had been returned to her at the floor. The screen was cracked, but it still lit up. As soon as it did, her heart clenched.

1,273 unread messages. 342 missed calls.

Every single one from her.

Her girlfriend.

Her Y/N.

Her thumb hovered over the messages, dread pooling in her stomach as she scrolled through them.

y/n: se-mi? Where are you?

y/n: baby please call me, I’m scared.

y/n: It’s been two days. Please don’t do this to me.

y/n: I don’t care what happened, I just need to know you’re okay.

y/n: It’s been WEEKS. Did you leave me? Please tell me you didn’t just disappear on purpose.

y/n: I love you. Please, just come back to me.

The texts grew longer, more desperate, more broken. The last one had been sent just hours ago.

y/n: I don’t think I can sleep tonight. I miss you so much. I just want you to be safe.

A sharp pain twisted in se-mi’s chest. She had been so focused on surviving that she hadn’t thought about what her disappearance had done to Y/N.

She had to fix this.

Without hesitation, she flagged down a taxi and gave the address to their shared apartment.

She was going home.

.

The apartment.

She hesitated before unlocking the door, remembering the guilt, the fear, the heartbreak in those texts.

Then, taking a deep breath, she stepped inside.

Her gaze landed on the couch immediately.

There she was.

Y/N was curled up under a blanket, her face turned toward the door as if she had fallen asleep waiting for se-mi to come home. Even in the dim light, se-mi could see her tear-streaked cheeks, her puffy eyes.

She had cried herself to sleep.

Se-mi’s throat tightened as she knelt beside her, hesitating before reaching out. With a gentle touch, she brushed a strand of hair from Y/N’s face before softly shaking her shoulder.

“Baby… wake up.”

A sleepy murmur escaped Y/N’s lips as she stirred. Her eyes fluttered open, groggy with sleep, before focusing on se-mi’s face.

At first, there was confusion.

Then—shock.

And then, tears.

“S-se-mi…?” Y/N’s voice cracked, disbelief evident in her tone.

Se-mi swallowed the lump in her throat and forced a small smile. “Hi baby…”

Before she could say anything else, Y/N threw herself into se-mi’s arms, clutching her tightly. “Oh my god—oh my god—I thought you were—” Her words broke off into sobs as she held onto se-mi as if she’d disappear again. “I thought you were dead. I thought you left me. I thought—”

“I know” se-mi whispered, guilt settling deep into her bones. “I know, love, I’m so sorry…”

She couldn’t tell the truth.

Couldn’t tell Y/N about the blood, the bodies, the screams that still echoed in her head.

So she lied.

“It was… a work trip” she said quickly. “I had to go last minute. They took my phone, all my things. I couldn’t call you, couldn’t text you. I—I should have told you before I left, but I didn’t have time.”

Y/N pulled back, eyes searching se-mi’s face, still wet with tears. “You were gone for three weeks.”

“I know” se-mi said, forcing herself to hold Y/N’s gaze. “And I hate myself for it. But I promise you—I’m here now. I’m not going anywhere.”

Y/N let out a shaky breath before nodding, her hands trembling as they cupped se-mi’s cheeks. “I don’t care where you were. I don’t care about anything else. I just… I’m just so glad you’re back.”

Se-mi’s heart ached as she leaned in, pressing a gentle, lingering kiss to Y/N’s lips. The warmth, the love, the relief—it was all there. Y/N kissed her back just as desperately, as if trying to make up for all the lost time.

The next morning, se-mi made good on her promise.

They went to the mall, shopping for everything Y/N wanted. Plushies, makeup, skincare—anything that could bring a smile to her face. Se-mi even surprised her with the Pink Chakra Heart Ring from Pandora, something Y/N had always wanted.

“Oh my god—Se-mi I love you! Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Y/N squealed, hugging her tightly and peppering kisses all over her face.

Se-mi chuckled, squeezing her close. “Of course baby anything for you.”

But even as they laughed and enjoyed their day together, se-mi couldn’t ignore the gnawing weight in her chest.

The nightmares didn’t stop.

The screams still echoed in her head.

But every time she jolted awake, sweating, shaking, Y/N was there—holding her, whispering soft reassurances, grounding her back to reality.

“I’m here baby you’re safe.”

And for the first time since she left that place, se-mi believed it.

She had survived.

And that’s because, she had something worth living for.

@semisasseater

[pinksugarberries]

Random se-mi hcs (no game au)

₊ ⁺ ⊹ ₊ ⁺ ⊹

﹒　૮꒰◞ ◟ ꒱ა　⸝　new upload!　❜

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　⸝⸝　　◦　　tags: regular gay se-mi glaze, facial piercings, smutty parts, hair pulling, mentions of smoking, fictional death, reader and se-mi are switches during freaky time, female reader intended, brat tamer

　⸝⸝　　◦　　a/n: hey chat i don’t really know what people out here uhhhhh im gay ok yeah let’s get start

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SFW

she likes listening to chase alantic to give her a ego boost after something really embarrassing happens or she breaks up with someone

she owns over 30 hoodies and justifies it as “i just run cold…! why are you judging me?”

she owns a nintendo and plays animal crossing (her favorite character is coco or wolfgang) i feel like she has a toxic relationship with fortnite (im NOT projecting..) like she hates it but she just continues to go back. “one more game”

if she’d ever play stardew valley, she would marry abigail (IFYKYK)

she likes plants and flowers and her favorite flower is a hyacinth

whenever some makes her mad secretly, in the middle of the night will boot up sims, make a sim that looks like the person and kill them. (she prefers drowning BUT lighting fires is also a good choice)

she HATES the people who uses the strawberry poundcake body mist excessively. it makes her get a headache and her nose gets all tingly

she likes cooking but she’s impatient and bluntly sucks at it. if she’s cooking at someone’s house they would probably say “what is burning?”

romantic but sucks at being romantic, please help this girl :(

gets her nails painted, or she does them herself. she really likes burgundy and black so she would do those colors :-)

she owns over 10 chokers that look the same but are for different occasions

ok the time you FREAKS have been waiting for

smokes, but only when she’s stressed

NSFW

definitely talks you through it, but more degrading words than anything.

remember that tongue piercing that i said he has in my last blog? yeah, she uses that to arouse you even more whine she’s EATING you out.

slurps ever single drop of cum after she’s done

adores your tits, and also convinced you to get pierced, now they are even more sensitive for her to play and fondle with while you’re fucking her brains out, or the opposite, while she has her strap on, she loves to see them bounce around, usually letting you get on top of her.

when she’s doming, she is mostly gentle, but she will continue to get rougher and rougher. if she hasn’t made you a crying, whimpering, and shaking mess than she hasn’t done her job correctly.

her favorite position is definitely doggystyle or missionary while she’s doming you

she LOVES shower sex. like completely adores it.

she definitely owns a 8 inch black strap and dicks you DOWNNNNN with it. can’t prove me other wise…

now while your doming HER, she could be a blushing, squirming mess,

you’re even more of a brat while your doming her and it pisses her off SO much…

you grab her choker while your rubbing your clit against hers

while you’re eating your DELICIOUS meal (her punani) you occasionally stick a few fingers in, 4 max and it makes her go INSANE. makes her cum instantly all over your face

when she’s giving you the MEANEST most DEEP backshots, she likes to pull your hair and smack your ass. a little too much but it’s ok because it’s se-mi :-)

[ma1dita]

asking for trouble

a 'partners in crime' installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader words:  7.8k prev -> when the curtains close | next -> as above so below summary: (post-TLT, compliant to TLO) The one where Luke's final wish is to see you. (He's himself again, and all he wants is to find out if the trouble was worth it all) a/n: non-descriptive mentions of blood and war, main character death. angst. a boyfriend that yall may or may not agree with. one chapter left after this!! i imagined the last scene to play out with luke in a room where they have the immersive exhibits at a museum

—

[august 15th; camp half-blood kitchens, long island, new york — 9:49 pm]

Everything begins and ends with love if we are fortunate enough.

There’s a stillness that fills the air the night before what historians and future demigods alike will deem the Battle of Manhattan. It’s stifling—suffocating in the silence of the camp kitchens as you cover a sheet cake with blue frosting, piping the edges with a steady hand as you check the clock, time always ticking over your shoulder.

Almost lights out.

The circumstances are different now though, and surely no one will be able to sleep tonight. Fate is hard at work unraveling the future, the gods and their spawn alike are preparing for war, yet you’re here putting sprinkles on Percy Jackson’s birthday cake.

It’s the most nonsensical thing you’ve done all week amidst the war preparations, taming the whirlwind of mixed emotions that shook camp in the days before. Perhaps it comes with the knowing that everything will change, and the only way out is through. Only the lucky ones get to go home after this.

“Are you really not coming with us tomorrow?”

Clarisse chuckles at your question from her position against the doorway, crossing her arms and watching you stick candles on the top of the sweet dessert. Her hands flex over her sleeves, tugging at the fabric like she needs to hide away from the rest of the world, “You make it sound like it’s a walk in the park instead of what it really is.”

“Is that why then?” You look up from your piping bag raising an eyebrow at her, “We need all the help we can get, Risse.”

“It’s a death wish. I don’t know how you do it grandma, but the world will keep spinning no matter if 5 shows up or not,” Clarisse mutters, rolling the words around in her mouth, “How do you do it? Knowing that he’ll be there…I-I don’t want Chris to put himself through that again. We’re going to lose anyway—something, if not everything.” 

You know that too.

There’s something ironic about how the children of war won’t be joining the fight of their lives, but Clarisse La Rue is as stubborn as a mule when she doesn’t get her way. Only something truly special would send her running to the battlefield at this point.

“A part of me feels obligated to be there and help fix it, Risse. This is the path I chose.”

She scoffs, her sneakers knocking against the side of the kitchen island. The daughter of Ares is wistful, hesitant… and nothing like herself tonight. You suppose conflict shapes someone like her like how insanity lines the essence of your being. Intangible, but the base of every choice—the driving reason connecting you to your godrents. 

“Yeah, I know that, but I still don’t get it. You don’t have to be here anymore,” she says thoughtfully, moving the cylinders of sprinkles around on the counter by height order, then by colors of the rainbow, “you could’ve chosen the easy life without all of this…I mean, if I ever got out of here alive, I wouldn’t look back.” The statement is sharp in the silence as if she’d attacked you with Maimer. Your eyes meet hers as if there’s a big secret she’s missing out on. You always look at them like that now, with a faraway gaze of a place none of them can reach.

“Who’s to say? Getting old and aging out of here is harder than you think, you know… College, rent, taxes…” you list off with every squeeze of the piping bag, spelling out Percy’s name with white frosting. Clarisse bites her lip, resting her chin against the palm of her hand as she watches you. When she closes her eyes at night, she often dreams of being home in Arizona, dry heat prickling at her cheeks and dust swirling at her ankles. That’s what her future will look like, she thinks—-and she’ll let herself be selfish if it means she gets what she wants. What do you dream of? Do you think about a future for yourself if you’re so worried about saving everyone else’s?

“But you still came back. Is this easier than that?”

Not easier, but familiar. Nothing you ever want comes easy after all. There is a comfort in walking the grounds of a camp counselor job you used to dread instead of filling out job applications; easier to you means fighting with the gods and slaying creatures of old instead of paying student loans and making rent. 

“I think you’ll find out that you do stupid things for love, Clarisse La Rue.”

She’ll never tell you this, but you’re the strongest person she knows. You’ve shown her that strength doesn’t always mean brain or brawn. Sometimes strength is loving someone without expecting anything in return, and the gnawing feeling in her stomach eats at her in an unsatisfying way—like Tantalus reaching for the grapevine, fingertips grazing the leaves for eternity. Instead, Clarisse wipes down the counter with a Clorox wipe as you make your way towards the door, cake in hand. Tonight, she and her siblings will sleep with the knowledge that they’ll get to see another day. Call her selfish, sure—but that’s how she loves them. Alive.

“I still stand ten toes behind the fact that Michael Yew can be knocked down a fucking peg,” she mutters. There’s a small smile on her face and when she looks up at you, she sees your face is illuminated by moonlight. Clarisse hopes this won’t be the last time—silently praying to her father to extend his hand onto you.

“I’ll see you when I see you, La Rue.”

Whenever that is, she thinks. This is easier than a goodbye. What matters is showing up. What matters is that they try. That’s what she reminds herself as she turns off the big light and heads toward Cabin 5. 

Does any of that still matter in the end if they aren’t alive?

Her siblings are already asleep when she tucks herself into bed despite the music and laughter coming from 12. Light from across the way filters through her window, a warm glow cast across her face leaking through even when she shuts her eyes. It warms her, reminds her of the orange of the stupid shirts they wear, sunsets on Fireworks Beach, and the molten lava that drips down the climbing wall. 

Home might not be what she remembered it to be after all these years. Clarisse decides to sleep on it, hoping that when they wake, there’ll be something worth fighting for.

[august 15th; cabin 12, long island, new york — 10:08pm]

Camp Half-Blood is quiet as you walk through the dark forest, minding your step over the brambles and checking off your mental list of responsibilities before day breaks. The air is especially cool for a summer night, melancholy being your only jacket as you move on auto-pilot. Your fingers tighten around the tray you hold, pushing the door open to Cabin 12 which currently houses most of your campers. It’s lively and bright in here—you would think they’re all celebrating a Capture the Flag win instead of being sent off to their deaths for the greater good.

Tomorrow, they’ll wake up soldiers.

The wood creaks beneath your boots and it’s drowned out by the sound of soft chattering and laughter, a few of them still scuffling over sleep spots, and then—”HAPPY BIRTHDAY PERCY!”

There are only enough people in here to comfortably fit in a few of the strawberry trucks tomorrow—some went home to their parents to avoid the chaos and some chose not to fight at all. And the ones that remain— all 40 of them, that is, are spread out on the floor in sleeping bags writhing like worms. All the whooping and cheering is accompanied by Michael leading his siblings in song (and Connor and Travis ruining it by chanting CHA CHA CHA!). 

Percy is just shy of sixteen now, but the sheen in his blue eyes still reflects the tranquility of open water and something tender that you saw in him when he came to camp at twelve years old. Later, through mouthfuls of cake and smears of blue buttercream on his cheek, the son of Poseidon looks up at you thoughtfully, “Is this a pity cake?” He tries to make light of the situation by acting like the fate of the world doesn’t depend on his life or death, and you take a deep breath. 

Even demigods fall victim to fate, and the gods still push on. But what of their children that fight for change in the world they set the rules for; their children that fight their battles for them and lose their lives for immortal beings that live forever?

“This is a birthday party, not a pity party, Percy Jackson. There's no pity for the damned,” you chuckle. Damned if we do, damned if we don’t. All of the world’s problems seem so permanent when you’re 15 years old. It’s just fucked up that hiswill actually alter the course of humanity.

“And if this is the end of the world, I just wanted to make sure we’ve told you happy birthday first.”

“Well thanks,” Percy mumbles over a spoonful of buttercream, face reddening when Annie throws a paper towel roll at his face, “Hey!” It reminds you a lot of when you and Luke would fight in the dining pavilion, chicken tenders and mac n’ cheese flying through the air, and apples cut just the way you like. You blink. 

It all boils down to him or Luke.

“Wipe your face, Seaweed Brain!”

Percy rolls his eyes, smiling down at his plate regardless of the weight he carries upon his shoulders. The more you want to live the more you have to lose, you think as you brush your knuckles against a spot of frosting he missed. You don’t look at the blonde boy and see a hero of the Great Prophecy—still, you see him as the little boy who was mesmerized by you conjuring strawberries on his plate on his first day at camp, innocent and honest. 

Looking around the room wistfully at that thought, you start to see the memories of their childhood blanket all of themlike ill-fitting clothes; it’s all you can notice. The feeling is so big it swallows you whole. Annabeth is still the little girl who’d rattle off obscure facts from Snapple bottle caps from her time on the road, drawing pictures of buildings with your eyeliner after sneaking into your room. Silena still makes blush out of berry juice and would call you about boy problems as if she’s not a child of the goddess of love herself. Will is still the boy who sings as he lights up fireflies and draws smiley faces on bandages. Katie, the girl who makes flower crowns for your birthday and eats strawberries with you soaked in morning dew. You look around and see scraped knees that you’ve kissed better, sleepy eyes you’ve sung to, and hearts you’ve kept warm—this is your glory, your greatest achievement being the family you’ve found in the woods of the Long Island Sound.

“You see it too?” Grover mumbles, nudging you and you sigh, squeezing his shoulder. Sometimes you forget the satyr is older than you; he stands tall as your pillar of support, unwavering in his promise to protect these kids. 

“We’re getting old, man.”

“You’re only 23. There’s so much left of you,” he deadpans. Laughter comes out of you in waves as you shake your head smiling.

“And what a pleasure it’s been to grow up with you.” 

Grover bids you a good night as you walk up the stairs to your old room, phone in hand while you dial a familiar number. Your boyfriend answers before the end of the first ring.

“Hey, I didn’t think you’d still be up!”

Settling against the windowpane near your bed, a soft smile graces your features and you realize he’s not there to see it. It’s always been easy with him—Dex was unbelievably kind, and he had a heart that he’d share without you having to ask. He was unlike any man you’d ever encountered before, and over the past year and a half you found it easy to love him. 

Worst of all, he’s utterly devoted to you. At least every part of you that you were willing to give him, even if it wasn’t allof you per se. Plus, you saw the ring in his desk drawer last week. It was too…good to be true. You recognize that this was your way out like Clarisse said, your escape from the turbulence that was your life as a demigod. But it was hard to believe that you were deserving of it. He’d never know of the ichor that runs through your veins, and the life you’d have to leave behind to truly be with him. You suppose every love you’ve ever had was sacrificial. You just wonder if because of that, easy makes it hard to feel real.

Maybe if you survive this one you’d tell him the truth. But for now, he’s rambling in your ear about his sudden work trip upstate. Morpheus and Hypnos are already at work then, redirecting the city dwellers out of Manhattan. It must be later than you thought already and in a few short hours, Apollo will be shining his rays across the Island for what you hope won’t be the last time.

“I wish I was with you right now,” you mutter in a hushed tone, and you hear him laugh breathily through the static sound of the phone. It’s easy to imagine him twirling the telephone cord between his fingers, flopped over the tiny loveseat you went halfsies on with your first big paychecks. The apartment you both moved into after graduation is more accurately a shoebox—but it’s yours, and the love you have for it is immeasurable in comparison to the square footage. You hum, listening to the sound of his voice, “Maybe I can catch you before I go—stop by and say hi before I drive up.” 

He won’t. By morning, you’re not even sure if he’ll remember you—all traces of Greek gods and their counterparts wiped clean from memory until it’s all over, whenever that is. You’re mindlessly walking in circles around your room, bare feet padding against the floorboards. He repeats your name and you realize you haven’t been paying attention, the tail end catching your ear, “Hmm?”

“Or you could come to me. I’m sure your dad won’t mind. It’s time I meet him, don’t you think?” 

And out of anything happening tomorrow, that especially sounds like a nightmare so you make a noise of disagreement, “I can’t. You know I can’t, honey. I’ve got…” your voice trails off as your lilac eyes land on a faded photo strip thumbtacked to your wall, “unfinished business to deal with.” There’s nothing left but inky silhouettes on the sun-damaged paper, two past lovers huddled together. But you know what it’s a picture of. Rye Playland, you and Luke at fifteen, cheek to cheek and covered in wisps of cotton candy.

“Mm. Sounds important. Does your unfinished business have a name?” 

Dex sounds playful now, teasing despite the silence on your end of the line. A beat passes, and then another, and he can hear the sound of your hands rifling through the things in your desk drawer. The dragon scale necklace is cold in your palm. 

For good luck, you think. 

It’s been a while since you’ve worn it—keeping it safe in the only home you and Luke shared, and as soon as it touches your neck, you feel a little less empty inside. It feels like a safety blanket, protecting you from whatever might come next. You almost feel guilty to be relieved.

Thumbing the cord absentmindedly, you mutter, “You don’t even know the half of it, Dex.” 

“Maybe one day you’ll tell me.” Sometimes, it’s like he knows— Dex must be the ivy that grows over the walls you’ve built up around yourself, and he can see glimpses of who you try to hide behind your stone-cold resolve. He wonders if you’ll ever tell him about the names you call out at night— an indistinguishable language he’ll never fully understand. He wonders where you’ve gotten your constellation of scars and where your mind goes when you sit next to the window and stare at the skyline.

Oh, he wonders.

The glow-in-the-dark stars are faded now on the ceiling when you look up at them, fighting to give their last bits of light. You wonder too, if there’s any fight left in you; a bit of Luke always remains—he’s everywhere you look. You can feel him as night falls upon New York, bidding you goodnight before it crumbles tomorrow. 

“Maybe. Good night, honey.”

Dex yawns into the receiver. You know his feet are kicked up onto the coffee table even though you always tell him he shouldn’t, and that his glasses are already off for the night. You really think he could be a nice guy to end up with, all things considered. Dex was the epitome of normal, and after almost two and a half decades of existence, it’s quite evident that you are anything but. 

Normal might be quite nice.

He yawns again. Hypnos must have reached his window, “I love you, you know that?”

“I do. Me too. Good night.”

It’s the truth. 

You love this man and the spaces he’s filled within the chaos of your life. You love all of him, from the perfectly normal way he makes breakfast for you every morning (and laughs when he burns the toast), and takes the train to work at a middle school in Harlem (“6th grade ELA takes a lot out of a man,” he jokes). He picks you up from your job at the therapist’s office downtown if you get out too late, as a gentleman would (though you’ve fought monsters that he’d scream at the sight of). Once upon a time, normal was exactly what you used to wish for.

There’s a moment where your breath hitches and you sink against your pillow and you wonder if he would love all of you—demigod and all. Could he get used to this— summers at Camp Half-Blood with chariot races and gladiator-style fighting, pegasi and harpies roaming the grounds, and watersports with woodland nymphs? Dex never even questions your green thumb or how Pollux made him hallucinate your dead brother when he came to visit (“It’s what Castor would’ve wanted! The full twin-terrogation!” he insists. You convinced your boyfriend he got food poisoning that night). Could you come clean about knowing how to slay a chimera, or why you never get drunk, and have the stamina of an Olympian (the athletic kind, but not too far off from the truth)? 

But it shouldn’t be called coming clean. That makes it sound like you’re ashamed of who you are—which you’re not. You’ve just been hiding this part of you from a normal human that you love very much.

Gods, is this how your dad felt when he was seeing your mom? 

Somehow insanity has always felt bearable—love, however, has always been such an ordeal.

The phone bounces onto your bedspread once you hang up the call. There is no more time to worry about playing a part. Tomorrow, everyone comes as they are—whatever happens after will be a problem if you reach another day. Fate has its way of making itself known, you know that by now. Blinking, you take a deep breath, and very intentionally, with your feet criss-cross applesauce, you pray—for what, you still try to figure out as the minutes tick by. 

Better late than never.

Here at camp, you were always the last one up after lights out, anyway. Tonight of all nights shouldn't be any different.

[august 16th; 34th street and herald square, manhattan, new york — 9:17 am]

“Where do you think you’re going, mister!”

Your little brother flinches, immediately turning tail and walking across the deserted street to meet you in the middle. He’s taller than you now, craning his neck down to look at your angry glower as you thrust a finger into his face, “You’re sticking with me.”

“Jake said he’s taking 9 and 12 to the Holland Tunnel,” Pollux calls out, shuffling his feet and you punch his arm hard, “OW! —It’s what Percy wants.” He swats your hand away for good measure, his arm guards clanking against yours when he dodges another swing at his head.

“We are Cabin 12, you shithead. I’m not letting you out of my sight for a second.” Your staff is heavy against his shoulder and Pollux can’t help but let his gaze wander to where Jake Mason and the other children of Hephaestus are waiting for him a block over. Manhattan is a warzone, and the difference between fighting empousai and fighting his older sister right now is very similar in theory—hard to do alone. The tunnel is halfway across the city from the Empire State Building—if something were to happen to either of you…

"M’not here to fight,” he sighs, “with you at least. I need to do my part, sissy.” The old nickname is an arrow through your heart, and you grab Pollux’s hand, “I just want to make sure you’ll be okay. I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if I couldn’t get to you in time.”

“HEY 12! You coming, or what?”

The two of you look towards the small army down the block, both of your hands intertwined like grapes from the same vine. You’re not sure if you can let go; you’re not sure if your father could lose another child. But Pollux’s face is almost set in stone—he’s never been more sure of himself. Your lip wavers, forcing itself into a stiff smile and he softens at the sight, “I’ll be okay.”

“And if you’re not? Then what?”

He shrugs, “Then… then I’ll get to see Castor.”

You nod, breathing shakily, and flinching when Jake calls for Pollux again, “Well. If you are okay…You come find me. After this is over, you come straight back home to me. You got it?”

Pollux hugs you, hard—the force of all of him sending you sprawling into his arms and it knocks the wind out of you. As the twins have grown, it’s been rare for them to show you any affection. They’d usually recoil or whine about how mushy their older sister is, and each time it makes you laugh. But right now, you stand there gripping onto his t-shirt, breathless; the ringing in your ears gives way to words he mumbles into your hair, “I love you,” he says, in case you didn’t already know. 

Just in case this is goodbye. You take it in for a moment longer, running a hand through his blond hair and cupping his cheeks as you finally step away, “I love you. I’m so proud of you, P. We all are.”

“Haven’t done anything yet,” he grins, backing away slowly, a skip in his step as he nears the small troop of Hephaestus kids. You wave them off, blowing a kiss as they band together and turn in the other direction.

Why is it that you can only be proud of someone if there’s something to prove it? You think about all 40 of your campers fighting for their lives in the greatest city in the world. The sound of hellfire, roaring monsters, and screams that could only come from your kids. Fatigue wears you down with each swipe of magic towards enemy forces, monsters writhing in pain at your feet, demigods reduced to insanity and blood-curdling screams. It disgusts you even more so that no one can witness the weapon you've been forced to become. After all, no one knows any of you were there. Life continues on outside of the bubble containing the Battle of Manhattan. And only the ones fighting will be able to remember this. Only you will remember the blood you spilled to wrestle for your destiny.

The rest of the city continues to sleep, safe from the people who swore to protect it.

[august 18th; empire state building, manhattan, new york mount olympus, in the sky above new york??? — 5:22 pm]

Running up 492 flights of stairs was another type of hell you didn’t expect to put yourself through, but it was faster than waiting for the elevator to Olympus. It’s quiet besides the steady rush of blood pumping in your ears, your boots slapping against the tile to reach your friends who might be in danger at the hands of someone you know well. But it’s too late to give up when you’re so close—you realize you’re praying to anyone who’ll listen as you push through the pain of always being a little too late. 

“Ugh!”

Air pierces through your lungs painfully as you trip up a landing, hands clawing against the banister. Have you been running in place this whole time, quick to start but hard to follow? Your lip quivers, eyes trailing up the stairwell faster than your legs can take you. 

Whatever the outcome, you’ll be better for it, you hope.

It’d be easier to give up. To stay away and not watch Percy fight for his life against him. You dry heave as you press your head against the wall, wondering if it’s worth not seeing what will become of this wretched prophecy. It’s hard to survive loving the villain when the rest of the world is dying because of it. Your legs feel like jelly underneath you, and not a single soul in Manhattan knows you’re here—until you feel the strength of an old traveler lift you up and revitalize your soul. Looking down to see your boots retie themselves tightly, the feeling in your chest reminds you of him. Everything leads back to Luke, and you think wherever he is now—Hermes knows that too. 

“Thank you,” you mutter. He’s handpicked your prayer through the tempest that hangs over Manhattan so that maybe your hands will be gentler in smiting his lost son. You find yourself with the nerve to run up the last dozen flights of stairs, pushing past the entryway to see Thalia Grace under a statue of her stepmother, “THALIA!” You barely make it to her fallen form before her free arm tries to push you away from the rubble.

“Get out of here! I mean it—” Thalia spits out your name through gnarled teeth and bones crunching under the heavy hands of Hera. The statue lays over the bottom half of her body, holding her legs down like how one forms a fist, and the daughter of Zeus pushes through pain and millennia worth of her dad’s karmic debt in giving her life—the essence of being a forbidden child still has a hold on her, even now. 

“I’m not gonna…leave you…”

With everything in you, both demigod strength and sheer desperation, you push at the unmoving stone, and your fingernails are splintering from the pressure. 

But you know what it feels like to get left behind. 

Desolation slowly sets in your bones, a hollow feeling that spreads through your core as sweat rolls down your cheeks, and when you sniff to wipe it away, Thalia’s lip quivers. She’s writhing in pain and everything is coming to an end down the hall from where you stand. 

“We’re so close, Grace. I’m not giving up on you when we’re this close. I need you in there with me so you just hold on, okay?”

The marble is cool to the touch under your moist hands, and her face is fixed in a grimace as she looks up at you and sees you for who you are—another demigod who was never given a fair chance at fate but with a spirit of a hero waiting for the right chance. Thalia coughs before slapping your hand away, “LISTEN TO ME! I’ll be okay. He needs you to be there. We’re almost out of time!” 

You barely register your body moving as you get up and start to run, looking back at Thalia by the time you’re at the top of the landing. There are no words that you could imagine to string together when your eyes meet hers in the distance that separates you two—the feeling of grief bearing down as you both know there is no way out but through this, whatever faces you inside those doors.

As you turn back around, you take a moment to wonder if you might’ve had different people in mind for who’s up there waiting for you.

[august 18th; the hall of gods, mount olympus, the sky above new york— 6:48 pm]

Finally pushing through the heavy doors of the Hall of Gods, your eyes burn like salt in a wound as you travel toward the center to see three figures laid out on the marble mezzanine. There’s a cramp in your calf by the time you reach them, your legs giving way as you skid to a stop in front of Luke’s corroded body. The pain doesn’t register for you, split skin going numb as you stare into the eyes of a storm you fell in love with almost ten years ago. 

A stranger is no longer wearing your love’s skin. Percy and Annie’s eyes feel heavy against your back as they watch you sigh in relief, a landslide of emotion rolling off of you when you see he’s still breathing, even faintly, as if he waited for you to make it back to him.

“It’s Luke,” Annabeth chokes out, “the scythe transformed into Backbiter and I knew it was him. He was fighting for us.” Her voice makes you flinch, makes this more real—it echoes as the wind carries it through the hall. Without a doubt in your mind, you know it’s him by the way he looks at you with tired eyes, soft and amber—the light pushing away the shadows and he reaches out for you. His skin is paled by the River Styx, face weathered by the Titan as you gently guide his head onto your lap. A pathetic cry slips from your mouth when you realize there’s more pressure in the fingers he brushes against your cheekbone versus the one holding the blade embedded in his chest. 

Fuck, what do you even say? 

He’s dying in front of you and you can’t think of a single word to say.

The clock is ticking and every breath of his comes out weaker––he speaks before you can find the words, breathing out, “I missed you,” like it was a relief to say it. And it all comes spilling out like a secret you’ve been safeguarding since the day he left— a mix of your tears and his blood smearing across your cheek as he reaches out to wipe them ever so gently. You find yourself smiling in the face of death itself—smile even if the both of you can feel death’s hand on him saying that time is finally up because the act of meeting each other here in the middle makes the years you’ve gone without him worthwhile. 

The reunion is also the loss; a nasty habit you’ve both fallen into over the years. But this time, Luke’s finally able to giveyou the world he wanted to see just before he leaves it.

You clutch him close without intending to let go, purple eyes scavenging for confirmation that this is your Luke, the one who pushed you through the brambles of the North Woods, wind in his hair and mischief in his smile. He’s citrus and musk, cunning smiles, something sacred kept within cabin 11, calloused fingers pulling at your t-shirt, and the voice out of tune at nightly sing-a-longs—and he loves you still. 

Loving you was the only thing that never changed.

“Shhhh, don’t waste your energy. The gods will…” you swallow a sob despite yourself, “I…my dad’s going to be here soon. He’ll help us.” There’s a lump in your throat that carries the weight of everything unsaid. Who would help you now that everyone else is getting what they wanted—a brighter tomorrow without the villain? But the prophecy unveils itself so cruelly, and the one who hurt you is the hero in this story, just as he’s always dreamed. It so happens to be at the cost of loving you.

Luke’s eyelids flutter like butterfly wings descending softly. You press a kiss onto his forehead like you used to while waiting for him to fall asleep. The chuckle that rumbles his ribcage is faint against the hand of yours that’s holding him together and the war is finally over and no one even knows that besides the four of you in this room.

“I'm running on borrowed time,” Luke wheezes, “I think my life ended the day I left you.” His thumb weakly traces the tear tracks cascading down your face, and he’s reacquainting himself with every feature of yours while he can touch it—to hold and be held by you after so long feels like drinking up ambrosia, his last bits of strength telling you what you’ve always known. 

Is there a word stronger than love? One that would explain how close and how far you feel to him at this moment and you don’t want to say the wrong thing but there are no wrong words when it comes to the right person. Hoarsely, through wavering lips, you chuckle, “Then it's time to stop running, baby. I’m here now.”

It’s exhausting to carry the weight of tomorrow in your arms and to know it’ll be made possible only by letting him go. You’re holding him too tightly, claws sinking in to feel—to ground yourself and keep him tethered to this reality, just in case a different answer falls out of the sky. 

But falling with Luke Castellan, falling for him, has been nothing like you wanted. You've said your goodbyes more often than you can count. 

This part is just about letting him go.

“I think I’m doomed,” he laughs, coughing harshly. Blood soaks his airways, retribution for the lives he took. It drips out of his mouth and you still look at Luke like he’s asked you to marry him. What a soft, funny thought. 

Love must be more violent than war, to feel like this—to know he’s wrecked your world and still come out the other side smiling at him like he put the stars in the sky. His fingers are slipping out of yours as you hold onto the knife that keeps him here and Luke mutters, “I’m so s-sorry. You deserved better in this life.” You hear Annabeth sob from somewhere behind you but you can’t look at anything else but his eyes, not daring to miss another moment of him.

“Can’t be all that bad,” you say with a watery chuckle, wiping his mouth with your thumb. There’s more of a mess now with your feeble efforts but the action comforts you more than him; caring for Luke is something you cannot unlearn. 

“This life gave me you. I don’t want to know anything else. Do you hear me?” 

You want Luke to know this—to understand that even if this is how fate has handled the both of you, there is no other hand you would hold but his.

“You’re my whole life, Trouble.”

“I know, angel. I know. It’s always been me and you.”

You and me, he mouths, an echo of himself left to relay the message as his eyes lose their warmth, empty now and unseeing. And then he's home in your arms again as you hold every broken and bloodied piece of him together until he's no more. The parts of him he leaves behind blur into you, rivulets of his lifeforce weaving through your fingertips even when you put pressure against the knife you both hold, hands cradling the spot under his armpit, and to Percy and Annabeth it looks like you're holding his heart, clutching it between your fingers.

Protecting it until his last beat—when he finally gives it over to you. 

It was always yours, anyway. 

Before, in the in-between, and now after, his heart is yours.

Time stops for Luke Castellan, the man born to die, in the Hall of Gods that day— in the arms of his partner and in the presence of his little sister and truest friend. 

Lips against his ear, no one tries to pull you away, even when the gods of Olympus march in expecting a battle to onlyfind a dead hero and a story that needs to be told.

You’ve never seen him so still before. 

Luke’s always been the one with something to say, hands fidgeting to hold yours. Still, you hold his hand even if he can't feel it, still smile even if he can't see you, still whisper words of devotion even if he can't hear it. By the time you feel your father’s hands on your back and hear Percy say, “We need a shroud. A shroud for the son of Hermes,” you imagine that he’s miles away from where he lays motionless, dead weight in your grasp. Nothing can pull you away from the mantra you set to remind him that he’s yours even when he leaves again. Luke’s soul will soon journey where you cannot follow, and you whisper to him in the stillness amidst the noise, “I love you, I love you, I love you…” 

When the Fates come to collect the body, their ancient hands spin around the two of you as they unweave your hold on him. You weren’t given a choice—his material body dissipates in front of your eyes and you swear you feel the tug from deep within your core as you watch them float Luke away. It’s so much different now from when he used to fly around your room with his stupid winged Converse—even the gods avert their eyes when you let out a sob that shakes the ornate hall. Hopelessly you watch, sat down on the marble and unable to move or follow—as if maybe he’d still answer to your sweet nothings, and not leave you hanging once more. You slump against your father’s side, catatonic and at a loss for words—they leave with him, floating away into the distance.

Humanity’s biggest problem and resolution has always been love—this was never a story about the lack thereof.

[august 18th; death, pre-judgement? — the seven minutes after]

The path that Luke Castellan takes after he dies is most peculiar and unlike any path he’s traveled before. And yes, there have been several times that he’s come close to death—under Ladon’s claws in the Garden of Hesperides, and when he relinquished his physical self by bathing in the River Styx, but neither of those times where he’s cheated his way out can compare to the real thing. 

He once read in one of Annabeth’s textbooks that there are seven minutes of brain activity that wanes in your consciousness before you die. There’s a distinct thrumming in his ears when he comes to, and Luke discovers he’s completely in the dark with no sense of direction and most importantly, no visible way out. The old him, were he still alive—would be panicking by now, short terse breaths and sweat upon his brow. Old Luke would have fidgeting hands and eyes that rocket around for an exit. But this Luke, whoever he is—whatever he is now, finds himself eerily calm. Everything glows in a vignette, and familiar scenes materialize before his vision, a kaleidoscope of color and your shrieking laughter surrounding him in the familiarity of your happiness with him—it feels like lifetimes ago. He realizes he’s smiling. 

Versions of you swirl in the space he stands in, taking up space wherever he can look, wherever he turns—you’re there. 

And he remembers.  

Memory is a choice after all, much like love is. And no one can take that away from Luke Castellan except death itself.

The scene flickers for a moment, eyelashes fluttering against morning light peeking through the windows of Cabin 11.

It’s Luke’s first morning at Camp Half-Blood after the storm that brought him and Annabeth there. You’re standing over him with a half-beaten pillow and a menacing grin that grows as he spits out feathers. It’s his first impression of you, Kool-aid tipped hair and hands shaking with a crushed Redbull can in your other fist.

“Good. You’re still breathing. Wasn’t sure for a sec.” A voice yells out your name and you make a run for it, barefoot and giggling and looking back at him every few steps—his breath catches in his throat again like how it did on the first day you both met.

The scenery changes and he’s sitting next to you on the dock of Canoe Lake.

“I dare you.”

“No way,” he hears himself say, and then he sees you fling algae at him in ropes, cold and slimy that it makes his voice crack, “He—ey! You’re gonna get us fired and it hasn’t even been a full day since we got the job,” he says, clearing his throat as you bite your lip.

“What’s one last hurrah?”

“You’re always gonna be Trouble, aren’t you?” he says, getting annoyed by the orange fabric that temporarily blinds him. Chuckling, you pull your shorts off and look back at him, eyes glinting in the moonlight and he can’t help but ogle at the rest of you, gulping hard. You catch him staring and he averts his eyes, looking back at the treeline to see if anyone’s come to find you both. A resounding splash echoes in the silence between you and Luke turns back to find your head bobbing visible above the water and not much else.

“I double-dog dare you, Castellan.”

He jumps in.

The dark blue of the water turns into light reflecting the pinks and purples of the sky above Montauk Point at sunset.

“We’re alive! Told you we’d be fine,” you yell, clicking your seatbelt off and jumping out of the car before Luke can even put the hatchback in park. It was his first drive anywhere—you’ve finally graduated from looping around Farm Road.

“Hey wait up!”

He calls out your name, but you’re already kicking up sand as the distance between you grows until he locks up the car and chases after you. You didn’t stand a chance, slipping and sliding in the sand as the son of Hermes quickly grabs you around the waist and throws you over his shoulder as you scream bloody murder. When he sets you down, your arms are looped around his neck and you’re smiling against the pink and tender scar on his cheek.

“Think we can break into the lighthouse before the guards come, angelface?”

The sound of crashing waves turns into chattering cabin counselors and when Luke looks around again, he’s at the Big House, with everyone else pushing their chairs in and walking towards the door. He holds his hand out and you grab it with no words or instruction—like a key nestled within its lock, exactly where it’s meant to be. 

“Last order of business, kind of…” Your dad drones from his spot near the windows. Luke tries to let go of your hand but you don’t let him, “Don’t panic,” you mutter.

“This… fraternization won't become an issue for all of us, will it?”

Everyone’s frozen near the doorway, staring at your intertwined hands. Luke clears his throat and turns toward Mr. D, “I’ll see to it that it doesn’t. Sir.”

You could almost hear a pin drop, and no one knows what to say next—not even Mr. D.

“Yeah, I’ll keep Castellan in line.”

That’s the confirmation everyone was waiting for; a mixture of groans and the clinking of drachma fill the air as Chris holds his hands out and takes his spoils of victory with a charming smirk on his face. Clarisse throws the coins at his head.

“I feel like I should take a bow or something,” Luke snickers into your ear, before placing a kiss against your temple.

You’re still in his arms and still look good in orange, but when he pulls back to look at you again, you’re both hovering above the ground near the dining pavilion. His knees are shaking when his winged Converse flap madly underneath you—a flurry of uncoordinated movement that makes you want to piss yourself.

“You’re lucky I have a strong core, babe,” he grins—and he’s thrilled at the fear on your face as you clutch onto him for dear life, one arm around his abdomen and the other around his neck, both legs latched around his waist.

“I swear to the fucking gods if you drop me, Castellan…”

His right foot jerks in a slightly different direction, making him laugh as you squeak.

“Castellan, huh? That scared, Trouble? Not gonna drop my baby.”

The wind around you whirls like a tornado as Luke tries to show off, getting higher and higher until, “LUKE!”

He catches you by the fingertips again and now there’s sand beneath your feet. You’re still spinning in his arms and his mom is singing along to a song playing on the radio you brought to Westport Beach. May claps lightly and you tug her up with a soft smile, “Come on Miss May! Take your son out for a spin.” Tugging at the damp white t-shirt you wear over your underwear, you take a seat on the picnic blanket and watch them with a smile you haven’t given Luke in years.

“Mother-son dance,” May whispers in his ear, humming a few notes of the wedding march.

He closes his eyes and soaks it all in, slightly swaying.

That thrumming is in his ears again, a steady beat against his chest and he feels it everywhere—a pounding rhythm that cannot be ignored. He opens his eyes and you’re snuggled against each other, tangled beneath the sheets. You’re still asleep and Luke just…watches you before the morning starts (whenever this is) and it all has to end. You’re breathing against his neck, lips slightly agape as warm air brushes his pulse. He moves hair out of your face and you pull him in unconsciously, skin to skin with no atom of space left between you. 

Luke blinks. 

You’re in your college apartment.

He blinks again.

His childhood bedroom.

Again, please.

In Cabin 12.

Please, just one last time.

You’re drooling against his neck in his tiny bunk in Cabin 11 and the noise is getting louder now—a static sound that morphs into the sound of your voice throbbing like a heartbeat, “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

It’s the last thing he can hear before he has to go.

_ 

“I wanna see your eyes / Is it a crime to say I still need you?” - Adrienne Lenker

[isabeauwolf]

Pregnant reader x Trafalgar Law

Chapter 1 - Coffee and Confessions

You worked at the small coffee shop down the block from the hospital on one the The Grandlines infamous Winter Islands, it snowed most of the year, except for the rare two month for spring and summer, then goes back to cold, winter once again.

You always loved the snow, watching the flakes fall from outside your window as you curled up on your couch with a cup of hot chocolate, your favorite blanket, good book and the puppy you just adopted naming him Onigiri.

Oh, sure it got sure busy and you had to work most holidays, but it was worth it.

Why?

The famous, cold, stoic and handsome Surgeon himself, Doctor Trafalgar D Law become one of your regulars. You heard his nicknames whispered underneath people breaths, "The Surgeon of Death" and "Doctor Heart Stealer," to name a few.

Twenty-six, handsome, doctor and single?

How in the world was this man still on the market you never know, but he was easy to talk to.

Well, somehow you two had become closer after the embarrassing questionnaire you two had while off the clock at work eight months ago.

You were fine until you excused yourself to go throw up in the nearest bathroom. Thank god, you packed a travel size toothpaste, toothbrush and mouthwash in your purse since you had spend the night with Jess last night after work.

Jess is your co-worker and best friend, she knew of your secret crush on the Doctor. And like the idiot that you were decided to scroll through tinder, hook up for a one night stand and.... your face paled, no.

No, oh no.

Fuck, oh my fucking god. No.

What? How? You were on the pill! You used condoms! Fuck.

You looked at yourself in the mirror in horror, inwardly screaming, Oh god, I'm pregnant! You wanted to bang your head against one of the bathroom stalls. "Okay, calm the hell down, Y/n." You whispered to yourself, hands gripping the edges of the sink hard. "Everything will be fine."

A knock on the door made you jolt, knots hitting your belly. "Who is it?" You asks, voice wavering.

"Y/n, it's me." Jess' voice calls from the other side of the door. "You've been in there for a minute." Worry in her tone as she whispered. "Can, I come in? I've got Max covering the counter."

"Yeah." You sniffed, wiping your mouth with the face of your hand. Unlocked the bathroom door, let Jess in and closed it, re-locking it.

"You look like shit." Jess joked gentle, hoping to get you to laugh.

"Thanks, ha ha," you muttered, leaning against the wall, sliding down, knees against your chest, crossed your arms over your chest, burred your head in your arms and cried. "Dammit, Jess, I fucked up."

"Hey, hey, shush," Jess kneeled beside you, rubbing your back. "What happened? Was your hookup harassing you?" She asked, immediately growing defensive. "I thought he didn't do repeat hookups?"

You mentally scoffed, if only. "No, that's not it." You sighed, meeting her emerald green eyes. "I think... I'm pregnant." You muttered, biting your lower lip.

Jess' eyes grew wide. "What?! But I thought you were on the pill and he wrapped it! Are you sure!"

You immediately covered her mouth with your hands, glaring. "I am and he did." You hissed, "Please, keep your voice down. I don't want the whole staff and our customers to know."

Jess nodded her head and you lowered you hands and ran your hands through your hair.

All of this started because you were too shy to ask Dr Sexy out, like a coward, you hoped to get a good lay out of your system and instead, ended up pregnant. If your mother and older sister ever found out, you knew they wouldn't judge you since both of them got knocked up while they were both sixteen. At least you were twenty-four, like that was any better.

Single, unmarried and now pregnant.

Those three words rang in your head over and over.

Hitting harder.

"Damn," Jess nudged you lightly, siting down beside you. "I thought you wanted to let off some steam for Mr Grumpy Pants, but instead you got lost too deep in that wild night, huh?"

"Your telling me." You closed your eyes. Dammit, how were you going to face Law again? Would he find you gross? Look at you like you were a harpy? You hoped not. You really hoped he wouldn't think any less of you.

"Hey, I know that look." Jess pointed you in the forehead, "Stop being a negative Nancy and get out of your head." She pointed over her shoulder, "Besides, Dr Sexy is waiting for his order. You know he only wants you to take his order." She gives you a smirk. "I think he's crushin' on you hard."

"No, he doesn't." You fired back, frowning. "If he did. I'd gladly be having his baby instead." You blinked, grew flustered and covered your mouth. "Forget I said that."

Jess hummed, smirking. "Yup, your type are bad boys with dark hair, dark eyes and tats." The raven haired woman, offered you her hand, which you took as she helped you up. "What was baby daddy's name again?" She raised a brow, "Ace?"

"Yeah," You frowned, instinctively placing your hand over your abdomen. You immediately thought of the biker with black hair, charcoal eyes, bright smile and adorable freckles on his face. Sure, Ace was hot and easy to talk to, but you both agreed that that night was a one time thing. Besides he was long gone and on the road with his brothers Luffy and Sabo in their biker gang, ASL. It would be best to not tell him, even if, you kept his number in your phone. "He was a gentleman and a nice guy but..." You trailed off, frowning deeper.

"He's no Trafalgar D Law, right?" Jess pulled you into a side hug and nodded. "I get it."

Another knock outside of the bathroom door sounded. "Is everything okay in there? Y/n- ya?" His monotone drawl called, a hint of concern in his tone.

Speak of the drop dead sexy doctor and he shall appear.

Oh no. You didn't want to go back out there. Law was observant, he would know something was wrong, you knew it.

"Y-yeah.. I'll be right out Law." You panicked and stuttered like a dumbass. You met your friends gaze with wide eyes as your breath hitched, nerves clawing at your belly again and you held yourself tighter, whisper underneath your breathe. "I'm not ready, Jess."

"Alright, call me, if you need anything." Law replied, "I'm off work for the rest of the day and will be hanging out for a bit." With that he walked away, returning towards the counter, waiting.

Stubborn man.

"Come on," Jess stood and helped you up. "I'll run to the pharmacy real quick and grab you a test while you and give Dr insomniac his coffee."

You nodded and reached for your purse, grabbing your wallet when Jess' hand lightly touched yours.

"No, I'll pay for it. It's the least I can do." She winked, "I know you'd do the same for me."

You nodded again, wiping your face with the back of your free hand and rewashed your hands. "Thanks, Jess." You met her reflection in the mirror, offering her a sheepish smile. "I'll owe you a coffee on our next girls trip."

Jess' smile widens. "You know it." She unlocked the bathroom and went out, announces. "She's coming Law!"

You bit your lip, holding back a snicker at your friends innuendo to try and make the Doctor's face fluster. After repacking everything into your purse, you took a deep breath and walked out.

You saw the back of Jess' head as she went out the door after throwing on her thick black and blue ski jacket with her white gloves and matching scarf you bought her last year for Christmas.

You felt Law's eyes on you as you made your way back to the employee's locker room, You inwardly shivered and felt embarrassed as your cheeks heated up, clutching your purse tighter to your chest. Your mouth had become dry as you shoved your purse back into your locker, pulled out your water bottle to gulp down a few heavy sips, then put it back into your overnight bag your brought with you from last night.

Quickly applying hand cream on your hands and shoving it into your pocket with you phone and retied your apron, you went back out onto the floor with your best business and cheer smile.

There he was.

Your crush, Trafalgar Law. Sporting a black turtle neck sweater, his spotted print faded washed denim jeans, white and spotted printed hat (which cutely reminded you of a snow leopard, or Onigiri) he always wears when he's off duty and his black boots. He had rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, rolling them up to his elbows, showing off his tats and had his arms crossed over his chest. Leaning against the wall, his long legs crossed at the ankles, looking bored at he glanced down at his smart watch.

Dr Heart Stealer was hard to read most of the time, but it was clear that he was worried with the nervous tapping he was doing with his inked index finger against his forearm. The stoic and cold surgeon could come off as intimating at first, but it was clear that he had a dark past since he never really talked about himself, mostly his work and his annoying coworkers: Penguin, Shachi and Bepo.

You had seen them from time to time as Penguin and Shachi loved to tease Law and were two trouble makers, but his childhood friends. Bepo was a literal polar bear in the form of a man, shaggy blond hair, blue eyes, a sensitive soul and very loyal towards his friends. He was also Jess's not so secret crush. Bepo was a giant, even taller than Law, which was impressive. What he was doing in the medical field you will never know.

You stepped behind the counter, putting on new gloves, grabbed the stores tablet, flickering your nervous gaze on the man of the hour as Law meet your stare, shoved his hands into his pockets and leaned off the wall, casually walking towards you.

You could honestly get lost in Law's stunning silver eyes. His dark sense of humor was funny. You are always reminded how much he towers of you as he approached and stopped at the counter.

"Are you feeling unwell, Y/n-ya?" His professional mask of stoicism was present, but you could have sworn.. he was frowning?

"I could be better, but I'm okay, thank you, Law." You replied, snapping out of your daze and refocusing your attention back on the tablet in your hands. "Would you like your usual for tonight?"

Law's slight frown deepens.

Shit, he didn't like that.

"I may be off the clock, but I still am a Doctor… if you ever need me Y/n-ya." He whispers, leaning against the counter, his usual stern tone was gentle and genuine.

Oh lord, please have mercy. Your hands tightened around the tablet, pressing it against your chest, growing flustered as you take a calm and steady breath. "I appreciate it, Law…" How the hell can you tell him no? You can't. "My shift is almost over…" You stare deep into his pooling sterling, stormy orbs. "I do have a few personal questions.. if you are willing to listen?" Dammit, I caved!

You mentally wanted to face palm yourself and scream in horror, but you kept your mouth shut.

Law's mood brightened a tad, it was small, but noticeable. The twinkle in his eye and the way his lips twitched into that familiar and bewitching smirk that had you swoon and mentally fan yourself. "I'll be waiting with my usual order then, thank you, Y/n-ya."

How can his lazy drawl sound so smooth at the same time? It wasn't fair!

"Thank you for your order, Law." You replied, lowering your gaze to try in the order you knew by heart and told him the order and total. "Medium black roast with a triple shot of espresso and a cream. That will be six-fifty, please."

He put his debit card into the card reader and typed in the pin.

You gave him his receipt.

Your hands brushes lightly as your heart thudded harder in your chest.

Law stiffened, then took his copy of the receipt and sat down at the back of the coffee shop, his usual spot. It was private, but he had full view of the shop.

You made his drink as Jess came back.

Oh boy.

You closed your eyes and counted to three as you walked out from behind the counter and slowly made your way towards Jess to grand the small paper brown bag, whispering your thanks and turned in Law's direction.

Law's gaze trailed curiously towards the bag. It was private and rude to stare, but he couldn't help it. Were you sick? What did you need so badly that you couldn't go get it yourself?

The more Law thought about your health, the more inwardly concerned he'd accidentally gotten himself worked up. But decided not to say anything for now.

You set his drink down as your glanced at the clock. It was 6pm, the end of your shifts. "Here's your coffee, Law." You smile at him, hand tightening around the brown bag. "I'll be back, excuse me." You quickly turned on your heels and rushes back into the bathroom.

Law wanted to follow you and ask what was wrong, but remained seated and reached for his coffee in hope the drink could help settle his nerves. Reminded himself that it wasn't his business, it didn't concern him. He couldn't help it, this unsettling feeling that something was wrong.

Jess came back out of the break room, drawing Law's attention as he noticed the worried look on her face.

He was tempted to ask.

A few minutes later you came out of the bathroom, tears in your eyes. It made his heart ache. He wished he could comfort you.

He observed as you help the brown paper bag in your hand and whispered to your friend who frowned and gave you a hug.

Law's grip on his drink tightened, his hat covering his eyes.

He heard someone approaching and recognized your black and white tennis shoes, forcing his gaze to meet yours. Your eyes were still red and puffy from crying and you looked nervous as you nibbled on your bottom lips, grip tightening and wrinkling the paper back. "What's wrong, Y/n-ya?" He asked slowly, he couldn't keep quiet any longer, he had to know.

"May I sit down with you Law?" You ask softly.

His nodded, "Of course, here." He gesturing across from him at the empty seat, standing, walking around, pushing out your seat and waited to push you in. "Is here okay or would you like to talk more in private?"

You were hesitant. "Can you come with me into the break room?"

"Very well." He pushed the chair back in, grabbed his drink, backpack and followed after you. "Is it okay for me to go back there?" He didn't want to get you into trouble.

"Max said it was okay since it was an emergency." You replied without meeting glancing over your shoulder, you reached the break room and were about to reach for the door knob when Law's hand was faster, opening it and holding it open for you. "Thank you, Law." You gave him a sheepish smile and entered first.

He once again helped you into your chair when you blurted out. "Can you become my doctor?"

He wasn't expecting that. "I can see if I have any opens available." He answered, raising a brow. "What for Y/n-ya?" His silver gaze scanned you from head to toe, apart from crying, he noticed that you had gained a bit of weight which didn't both him. "Why me?"

"I trust you Law." You admitted.

It made his heart skip a beat and a hint of a blush rise across his cheeks. "I appreciate it, thank you." He muttered, he raised a hand out of instinct, covering his eyes with his spotted hat. Clearing his throat as he leaned back in his chair, crossed his legs, grabbed his coffee and took a sip.

You took a deep breath and figured you'd go ahead and get it out of the way. Rip it off like a band aid.... a really big, one. "I'm pregnant."

Law nearly choked on his coffee, drops of the hot liquid left his mouth. He swallowed quickly, coughing as he covered his mouth with the back of his hand. "Excuse me?" He sputtered, scanning your face for a hint of a joke or a lie.

He found none.

You felt so bad. Speed walking towards the coffee machine, grabbing a handful of naps and handed them to him. "I... probably could have said that better, huh?" You blushed deeply.

"Th-thank you." He coughed, using them to wipe his mouth, chin and hands. "I didn't know you were seeing anyone."

"I'm still single yes." You admitted, glancing away as you sat back down. "It was a casual hookup a couple of weeks ago." You tilted you head. "No about a month ago." You opened the brown paper back and pulled out the pregnancy test and laying it on the table, resting your hands in your lap.

Law stared down at the test. "Did you not use protection or are not on birth control?" Sure enough, their were two blue lined on the test, showing that it was positive.

He shouldn't be upset. You are an adult and he wasn't your boyfriend. This still wasn't an easy pill to swallow either, yet he couldn't abandon you. It took a lot of courage to tell him, to trust and open up to him.

"We did." You muttered, hands clapped tightly. "And I am."

Law took off his hat, running his inked hand through his scruffy black locks. "Both aren't one hundred percent."

You nodded. "Perhaps it's that strong D clan genes." You joked, but it seems to have unnerved Law. You wondered why?

That made Law pause, his eyes widen. "Your hooked is a member of the D Clan?"

"Yes," You nodded again. "Portgas D Ace." You picked up the test, held it in your hand, stood to your feed and walked over to the trashcan, threw them away and leaned against the counter. "I think, if I remember right you know his little brother don't you?"

Law had heard of StrawHat talking about his older brother.

From what Law remembers Ace was Luffy's half brother from his Mother Rouge remarrying Monkey D Dragon when Ace was three. Her first husband Gol D Roger has died from an illness before Ace was born, Luffy was born not long after and they had adopted Sabo.

He does recall Luffy shoving his phone in Law's face when StrawHat was back in town last month, showing off pictures of his adventures with his brothers. He never saw Ace in person. It made Law secretly jealous that Ace had caught your eye.

He supposed Ace is considered attractive with him being taller than Luffy and had more muscle, same stupid happy go lucky trade mark smile or that mischievous smirk he shared with his brothers.

Ace was known to be more polite.

And yet, Law still felt the burning coals of jealous and envy towards the bastard.

Law felt his hand tighten around his hat before he shoved it away in the back of his mind. "Do you plan on keeping the baby?" He asked softly, meeting your eyes.

You placed you hand on your abdomen. "Yes, I don't have the heart to get rid of the baby."

"What about adoption?" Why was he prying? It wasn't any of his business.

"I'm not sure yet." You turned untying your apron and putting it in your lockers. Slipping on your heavy winter coat and untying your hair, ruffling it a bit and sighed. "Thanks for not judging me by the way."

Law's jaw clenched tight, then relaxed. "Your welcome." He stood, threw his backpack over his shoulder, downing the rest of his coffee, threw it away and talked towards the sink to wash his hands. He'd sneak a peak at you as you finished gathering what looked like a small black and purple duffel bag and your purse. "Where'd you go last night?"

"Slept the weekend at Jess' and came straight to work." You faced him smiling.

God, if you knew what that smile did to him.

Law dried his hands and pulled out his cell phone. "Here's my number, if you ever need anything or have any questions. I'll see, if I can squeeze you in first thing in the morning."

"Are you sure?" You blinked. "I don't want to take anyone's spot in case the hospital needs you."

Law smirks that sexy smirk of his again. "I'm sure they can manage." He opened the door for you again as you walked through and he followed, watching as you put on a white beanie with pink hearts on with a matching scarf and gloves.

He wasn't going to say it out loud but apart from his beloved leopard print clothes, anything with hearts on it was a close favorite of his. It reminded him of his adoptive father Rosinante Donquixote. He supposed it gave him nostalgia and comfort, made himself smile whenever he saw the design.

It suited you.

You took out your own phone, adding him to your contacts, saved it and handed it back to him. "Thanks again, Law."

"No problem, Y/n-ya." He replied, tilting his head. "Aren't you going to give me yours?" He held his phone in his hand, fingers hovering over the screen.

You blinked, growing flustered. Oh, right. "Oh, here." You repeated your phone number that you made yourself rewrite and repeat over and over until it stuck.

You lead the way, wishing Jess and Max goodnight as you exited the coffee shop.

The street lamps were bright and shining against the dark sky. The world was covered in a layer of white, big fat flakes fell slowly as you smiled. Closing your eyes, breathing in the chilling winter night air, holding it in your lings and exhaled, reopening them to watch your breath puff into a cloud of fog and vanish.

Law felt him own mouth tug into a ghost of a smile.

Feeling his stare you turned towards him, meeting his beautiful and steamy silver gaze as he zipped up his black winter coat with pride orange spots trailing at the bottom, his beloved spotted hat back in place on top of his head.

"I'll see you in the morning then?" You muttered, half turning to head in the towards your apartment.

"Yes, I suppose I will won't I?" Law tipped his hat towards you and walked away in the opposite direction, the sound of crunching snow was loud and echoed in the quiet streets. "Be careful."

"You too Law." You watched him go. Your gloved hand tightened on the strap of your duffel bag. Did you do the right thing? Asking Law, your crush to be your primary care doctor? You only wanted to ask him a could of question, but the intrusive thoughts won. You could always change to a woman doctor, if you wanted to. Guess Jess is going to tease me for blabbing to Law.

Shivering you rubbed your arms and made your way home. You knew Onigiri, the sweet and adorable little guy was waiting for you. Guess that means he's going to be a big brother isn't he?

I can already see him being overprotective of the baby and sleeping beside the crib, or somehow crawling into it. You giggle to yourself.

Law paused at the top of the hill, turning and watching your retreating figure grow further and further away. He had half a mind to chase after you and walk you home, but he thought better of it. He's sure you'll be fine he tells himself.

He followed your silhouette and watched you walk around the corner, making a mental note to look up possible houses close by in that direct in case of emergencies, and not for creepy reasons.

Readjusting his bag he whispered quietly to himself out loud, "Good night Y/n."

------ End of Chapter 1 ------

Okay, I know it didn't end exactly like the poll and preview, but I kept writing and writing until I decided to break it down. XD

I hope I didn't disappoint my fellow Law fans!

Were you surprised who the baby daddy was? Yes? No?

Give me your thoughts please! I tried to keep our snow leopard close to canon.

Tag list: @m0sigma7 @angelblueflame @pandora-writes-one-piece @short-honey-badger @supreme-burrito @fanaticsnail @turtletaubwrites @cherry-queens-blog @fairymama624

[nameless-jamie]

I love the PA series!! So so good! The dynamic between them <3 if you ever write more of them, I’d love to see your take on a role reversal type of situation where Jamie has to help his PA (maybe she’s having a bad day or something like that).

Thank you for all your writing <3 and hope your week is going okay!

Tissues and Tea

Masterlist

Jamie Tartt x fem! PA reader

TW: cursing, flirting

A/N: Hello! Thank you for this great request. I hope you like what I made out of it. I'm doing fine, I hope you have a great rest of the week and enjoy your reading. <3

Y/N should’ve stayed home. She knows that.

But the thought of leaving Jamie Tartt to his own devices for a full day? Unsupervised? With a match coming up and at least three emails that need responses before noon? Absolutely not.

So here she is, standing outside his house, sniffling, a little wobbly on her feet, but determined. Her usual pencil skirt and blouse combo were exchanged for some jeans and a loose hoodie. She rings the doorbell and barely has time to brace herself before Jamie swings the door open, wearing—of course—nothing but gray sweatpants and a cocky grin.

"Ew, you look like death."

"Good morning to you too," she grumbles, brushing past him into the warmth of his house.

Jamie shuts the door behind her, frowning. "Nah, for real. Why d’you sound like a ninety-year-old chain-smoker?"

She ignores him, heading straight to the kitchen counter where she usually sets up her laptop. "I’m fine. Just a little cold."

Jamie narrows his eyes, watching as she unpacks her work things with shaky hands. "Right," he drawls. "And I’m fuckin’ Cristiano Ronaldo."

She sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. Her head was throbbing and she could not take any banter today. "Jamie, I’m fine."

"You’re not fine," he counters, stepping closer. "You look like you’re gonna pass out. Actually—" He pokes her arm and she loses her balance a little. "—yeah, that’s definitely wobbly behavior, love."

She swats his hand away. "I just need to get through the day, then I’ll rest."

Jamie scoffs. "Yeah, not happening." Before she can argue, he grabs her laptop and walks off with it.

"Jamie—what the hell?!" she croaks, chasing after him.

"Oi, don’t strain yourself," he teases, holding it above his head like a schoolboy dodging a playground fight. "You’re sick. Ya need to rest. And lucky for you, I’m a proper gentleman, so I’m gonna look after ya today. Call me your personal assistant."

She blinks. "You? Taking care of me?"

Jamie gasps, mock-offended. "What, ya don’t trust me?"

"Not even a little bit."

"Rude," he mutters, placing her laptop high up on a shelf, far out of her reach. He puts his hands on her shoulders and shoves her towards the living room "Now, let’s get ya on the couch, yeah?"

She knows she should fight this, but honestly? Standing for this long is exhausting. And Jamie's 50.000-pound-couch looked comfy ass hell. So, reluctantly, she lets him guide her to the couch, where he throws a ridiculously big fluffy blanket over her.

"There," he says, hands on his hips. "All cozy. Like a little babeh."

"I can’t move," she deadpans, buried under the weight of the blanket.

"Exactly." he pulls the finger-guns at her.

She glares at him, but Jamie just grins.

A beat of silence, then—

"Want some tea?"

She exhales. "That would be nice, actually."

Jamie beams, disappearing into the kitchen. A minute later, she hears cabinets slamming, the sink running, and Jamie muttering "fuckin’ hell, where’s the sugar?" under his breath.

"It's in the second cupboard on the left," Y/N shouted as loud as her croaky voice let her.

"Got it!"

When he returns, he hands her a mug with the smuggest expression. "There ya go, love. My specialty."

She takes a sip—and immediately grimaces. "Jamie."

"What?"

"This is just hot sugar water."

He frowns. "Nah, it’s tea."

"The teabag is what makes it tea..." she narrows his eyes at him. "Let me guess, you don't know where the teabags are?"

"I could put some leaves from my kitchen plant in there. Same thing, innit?" he scratches his neck embarrassed.

She sighs, setting it down. "You’re lucky I’m too weak to fight you right now."

Jamie plops down next to her, looking way too pleased with himself. "You are lucky, actually. Not everyone gets personal Jamie Tartt care."

She gives him a tired, but teasing look. "Oh, so this is an exclusive service? Where do I complain? Is there like a hotline or..."

"Hey don't get sassy with me, you booked the VIP package. Special treatment. No refunds." He smirks, then leans in a little. "Want me to tuck ya in?"

"Jamie."

"I’ll do it proper, promise. Maybe even sing ya a lullaby."

"Jamie."

His smirk widens. "Or, if ya prefer, I could be your personal hot water bottle. Y’know, for extra warmth."

"Jamie."

"What? No cuddlin' ?"

She rolls her eyes, but her lips twitch—because despite everything, he is making her feel better.

He watches her for a moment, his teasing expression softening just a little. Then, without thinking, he reaches out and tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

"Y’know," he says quietly, thumb brushing against her temple, "you spend so much time lookin’ after me. Someone’s gotta return the favor, yeah?"

Her breath catches.

It’s the kind of moment she’s always tried to ignore—the kind where Jamie isn’t just the flirty, cocky footballer she works for, but something more. Someone who cares about her. Someone who, if she let herself believe it, might actually love her.

But she’s too tired to overthink it today.

So instead of pushing him away, she just leans into his already open arms, lets herself relax under the ridiculous blanket, and mutters, "Fine. But if you try to feed me soup, I’m leaving."

Jamie grins. "Nah, love. I’m terrible at soup."

And with that, he settles in beside her, her head on his chest, his arms wrapped tightly around her. Y/n's silent snores fill the room and Jamie sighs satisfied. Yep, he's refusing to move from this position—ever again.

[artsninspo]

COUNTERFEIT - two

⇽ part one

➨ rio's library - good girl nbc

「 ✦ full library & archive ✦ 」

🍒 pairing: Rio (Good Girls) X Faith (Original Character) All my characters are black women.

🍒 word count: ~1.6K

🍒 summary: Faith faces the blowback from her decision to end things with her now ex-boyfriend. Conflict stirs between her and her sister. Rio's curiosity grows and he finds himself not able to stay away before getting to know about Faith.

🍒 two ~ life traps

“Where’d you go last night?” Char asks as she comes in from the gym.

“To have a one night stand” I respond being facetious.

“Faith, Jason is the kind of man women pray for” Char starts.

“I don’t want to hear it” I groan, needing some peace.

“Why not, he’s romantic, attentive, emotionally stable and makes good money?” Char continues.

“And he’s boring, closed minded and pacifistic” I add.

“Life isn’t all about excitement!” Char shouts.

“I think you’re mistaking life with death” I retorted, earning a grimace from my sister.

“He wanted to marry you!” She snaps. “He asked mom and she gave him her blessing, he was planning a party and everything! Your ring is gorgeous!” she says like it’s the thing that makes me stay but I couldn't be more relieved.

“If he knew me even a little he’d know I don’t want a public engagement” I respond.

Char huffs in exasperation “Anyone who’s in love does!”

“Well then, there you have it!” I sigh, reinforcing the obvious.

“Faith.” she fusses.

“He’s a great guy just not for me. Now he can return the ring and find someone who’s grateful and appreciative of the perfect man he is.” I fake a smile.

Char sighs, folding her arms in frustration. “You’re being unreasonable and taking the ungrateful thing out of context.”

“He’s not the man I want to wake up with forever or who I want to raise my children” I explain speaking in terms she can understand.

“Because you have commitment issues!” She snaps.

“You don’t? Where’s your Prince Charming?” I ask and she goes ridgid. Her eyes bug out and I realize I’ve gone too far.

“Char” I call but she storms off to her room.

———

Char hasn’t been speaking to me all week. She’s hardly been coming home. I feel bad but there’s not much I can do if she won’t talk to me.

Big game? I could use some back up.

- D

I smile at the phone and D’s perfect timing. I get dressed and go where I’m wanted. I drive to the bar and park out back. I can hear from out here the place is packed and head in. D doesn’t look as happy and he usually is to see me. I hug and kiss him and he makes me my favorite drink with a smile. I get started and make things easier for him. I work the bar until there’s a lull and I can enjoy my cherries. Diego smiles at me.

“I’m glad you texted, Char and I are fighting and it’s all bad at my place”  I tell him.

“What about?” D, asks.

“Breaking things off with Jason” I explain and his cousin walks in. “Am I okay to be here?” I whisper, putting my cup of cherries down.

“Yeah,” Diego nods. His side of the bar fills up and he steps away to tend them. His cousin sits on my side. I head over to him.

“Whisky neat” he says before I can ask. I head to the top shelf pouring him what he asked for. I place it down on top of a napkin and I’m shocked when he pays. Doesn’t he own the place?

“Thanks” I smile, putting the money away. I work my side of the bar finding time passes and the game ends, music replaces the previous entertainment. When things settle I go back to D and my cherries. We joke around with some of the patrons doing shots and keeping them in their pockets. There are no fights tonight which is a win and when the night’s over I’ve made twice as much in tips as I did the other day. I’m cleaning off the bar when Diego’s cousin comes in from outside.

I continue cleaning up and Diego mops this time. Security takes all the dirty glasses to be washed and I make sure the register balances. We have at least fifteen empty bottles and I pack them away making space on the shelf.

“Where else do you work?” He asks from behind me.

“I’m not a bartender,” I respond.

“You know your way around a bar.” Diego’s cousin remarks.

“Diego taught me” I explain and he smiles nodding. His dark eyes miss nothing, it’s like he can smell my uncertainty and is amused by it.

“So what are you?” He asks again.

“I work in interior designing,” I explain, omitting my shinier accolades.

“Pays well?” He asks. It's a strange question. If he were anyone else I'd roll my eyes and walk away. One thing my Ma is right about is that a woman's pocketbook is none of mens business unless he’s adding to it.

“I’m not complaining,” I respond. The answer doesn't seem sufficient as he looks down trying to read me. We both give each other nothing. “You into nature?” I ask stacking glasses and his brow raises. I’ve thrown him off.

“Nature? Outdoors?” He asks and I steel my expression in genuine curiosity as I motion to his neck where the bird is permanently inked into his skin. He looks affronted, so much so my facade breaks. A smirk plays on his lips and he nods.

“I was just messing with you. D’s my friend, he loves this place and I’m here to help him out - not cause trouble” I tell him and he looks me over again - his energy less distant.

“You’re a woman, this is a guys bar and I’m a businessman. Women mean trouble. More security, more fights and more egos. It’s not personal, don't help him every weekend and don’t use your real name. You getting stalked or followed isn’t my problem and D’s not built for it. He’s crazy about you. Told me I need to apologize for the other day” he says completely relaxed. His expression is back to giving nothing away as he speaks matter of factly. 

“Gotcha, and It’s fine, you don’t seem like you apologize much” I tell him and he nods, holding back another smile.

“Is everything alright?” Diego asks with an uneasiness that makes me reconsider the ease I feel next to his cousin.

“You don’t bring women around often, I’m just curious” his cousin says and I sense tension between them. 

“I’ll do the rest Faith, let me walk you to your car” he says protectively and I look between them a moment before getting my jacket.

“Thanks” I tell Diego who is standing ramrod straight and tense, in juxtaposition to his cousin who looks both relaxed and amused. He empties my tips into a paper bag.

“Goodbye Faith” his cousin waves.

“Bye,” I respond.

“What’s wrong?” I ask Diego once we’re outside.

“Rio” he sighs. “I wish I could just strangle him sometimes,” he snaps.

“Rio is your cousin’s name?” I ask and he nods.

“Nickname, his name is Chris but don't call him that.” D warns.

“What's going on between the two of you, does he think you're into me or something and how does he own the bar? I thought it was yours?” I ask and D takes a deep breath before letting one out.

“He doesn’t think I'm into you, he knows I’m gay. He’s part owner, not full owner although he thinks he’s the boss of everything ” D sighs.

“I’ve never known you to huff and puff instead of knocking someone clean out” I comment looking outside as Rio strolls cooly into a G-Wagon.

“Rio doesnt get mad, he gets even, he can be spiteful and petty and he’s patient. You’ll never know you’ve fucked up until you’re wading through shit. Be polite and keep things short with him” Diego says, giving his cousin a less than glowing review.

It leaves a bad taste in my mouth as the G-Wagon pulls out driving into the night. D follows suit and silence befalls the car until he presses me for information on Char and I. When I tell him the full extent of everything the look in his eyes tells me while he’s on my side. Diego agrees with my sister in regard to my commitment issues. Unlike Char, D understands why I don't want to run from where we came from. Why I’m in no rush to commit to a life of pageantry or rush into an engagement at 24. He calls it survivor's remorse which is kinder than the assessments given to me by my shrinks. A life with Jason would be a lie. I’d have to pretend my step-dad is my father. Not my real father who’s no longer on this earth. The result of a life selling street pharma and the violence that comes with it. I’d have to hide that part of my story and heritage and even do away with D as a part of my past. Jason and his family would see it as a character defect instead of character building. It would be bad PR and so it would be filed away in a safe and kept away for comfort and convenience. No one understands not wanting to hide yourself from people like D.

He watches me sitting shotgun as the sun dawns.

“Be gentle with Char, she's a marshmallow - all soft. You’re a jellybean.” He smiles and I lean on his shoulder. He presses a kiss onto my forehead. “You know ChaCha means no harm, she doesn't like to rock the boat or disappoint anyone.” Diego speaks knowing us well.

“I was gentle, we didn't have a screaming match” I smile but his phone ringing gets my attention. Rio’s name flashes on the car’s console shifting the mood.

“I gotta take this, text me when you get in” D says and I nod.

“D, if you need money-”

“I don't, I'm the oldest. You need money you come to me” he asserts and I nod exiting the car. I hear the call pick up when I grab the lobby door. I place my fob on the console and the automatic door opens.

Mercury must be in gatorade because I don’t know what the fuck is going on.

authors note: thanks for reading, what do we think D's deal is with Rio and the girls? Why is Rio in our girls business? don't forget to ❣ Like, ❝ Comment, ↺ Reblog & vote on open polls

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[pale-oak-door]

Gonna liveblog Mumbo's new episode here because I can already tell it's gonna be a good one.

Dropping some more lore and "canon" designs for the inhabitants of Magical Mountain Row. 👏👏 We love to see it.

ZombieCleo mention!! He's gonna start messing around with armour stands!

Mumbo killing himself (in a video game) compilation.

Also he lost his gold farm briefly.

The skins based on his drawings are so so cute. I hope we get to see more of Mumbo art.

A lot of detail being put into all of them! Especially Willy Jr's spoon carving.

Jill and Bill are my favourite.

That's... that's a lot of armour stands...

GEMINITAY APPEARANCE!!

Mumbo's concerned about the death beach but honestly? Probably not concerned enough.

Gem you can't just call MumboJumbo an E-girl like that. That's gonna affect the fan art for the next week.

THE SECOND SKIN 😭

Mumbo popping off after finally getting a kill on Gem in his dinosaur child skin 🔥

THE DOUBLE KILL! YOUR HONOUR, HE'S CRACKED!! HE'S USING CRITS!!

"I think it's the nudity. The more skin I show the more powerful I become." Mumbo's been spending too much time around Scar I see.

MumboJumbo death compilation featuring GeminiTay. (second instance of him repeatedly dying this episode) ((this one's got way more entertainment value /lh))

He whips out a skin similar to Gem's to harness her PVP energy. It doesn't work.

"Look at my shirt, it's, like, tastefully unbuttoned." "Tastefully unbuttoned? Alright, I'm gonna murder you for that." *Mumbo laughing* "Let's go. 'Tastefully unbuttoned'."

Claiming that Gem eating a golden carrot is a taunt/psychological warfare. 🤔

"YOU'VE GOT TIGHTS ON!" "I believe this one was called 'Punk Babe'." "PUNK BABE?! I can't kill Punk Babe!"

"You're wearing a crop top!" "Yeah, there's a small amount of nudity. My knees are nude." "It's the knees!" Immediately kills Mumbo.

STOP TALKING ABOUT THE KNEES 🙏😤 /lh

Gem pointing out that Mumbo's OG skin qualifies as Goth whilst he's dressed as Wednesday. Mumbo realises that he has 'goth vibes'. "I'm like a goth icon." - Mumbo K. Jumbo 2025

AGAIN WITH THE KNEES.

Mumbo complains about karaoke in the Philippines whilst timelasping him decorating his townspeople.

His base looks so much livelier!!

Magic Mountain Row is officially finished! (Barring any later small additions.)

Mumbo mentions a phase three of his base, after the factory itself is finished, but cuts himself off before explaining what it is.

[livesworthlivingau]

Lives Worth Living Chapter 36

ISAT and Two Hats spoilers below! CW: Mentions of Death, Fear of Mortality.

Gotta be honest, not suuuper happy about this chapter, but it's at a point where I'm okay with it and I just kinda need it out of the way so I can move on with the rest of the fic.

(Siffrin) |Isabeau|

"You... You died? Like really actually died?..." (Isa asked with a mortified look, bringing a hand up to cover his mouth as you explain the events of the last loop.)

"Y-Yeah... Vale saw me, just lying there... and I... I saw something weird after... something I'm scared might have been real." (You continue your story. You hated putting this burden on him, but having to explain this to everyone else would be too much for you to handle right now. You sit alone together in your tent once more as Vale went off to have a moment to themself before the bomb dropped.)

"Saw something? Like... like after you died?" (You respond with a hesitant nod.) "... Was that why you woke up like that?" (You nod again, taking a deep breath before you continue.)

"... I saw the island... I saw the King... I started to remember it all, everything... it all vanished when I woke up but... I didn't want it! I didn't want any of it! Not if it meant I'd lose all of you!" (You realize you've started shouting again a little too late, feeling tears pouring down your face again before Isa grips you in a tight hug to help calm you.)

"Shhhh, it's okay Sif. It's gone, we're all here, you haven't lost us, and we haven't lost you." (He sighs out, you can tell he was saying it for his own sake as much as he was for yours. You grip back tighter and nuzzle close.)

"I love you Isa..."

"I love you too Sif." (He replies in kind before gently kissing the top of your head.)

"Uhm... Siffrin? Isabeau? Is everything okay?" (Mira's voice calls through the thin tent walls. You figure you got a bit too loud...)

------------------------------------------------

(You mumble and grumble under your hat as you hug yourself in your cloak, forming a make shift little tent out of the two while secluded in the larger tent, and still it didn't feel like enough to cover your shame. You made Isa do your dirty work again... you're such a coward... No! No, that's not true. Isa offered, he knows you're going through a lot and is happy to help. Stop being so hard on yourself, it's okay to need help! You mentally shout at yourself, trying to practice better self talk like you learned so long ago.)

(You decide to make better use of your time, digging out the little bird plush you were crafting for Isa and going back to work on it, softly mumbling your little request to the universe.) "Please be cute, please be cute, please be cute."

---------------------------------------------------

|You sit in the middle tent with Odile and Mira as you fill them in on everything in slightly hushed tones.|

"What do you mean it wasn't him that looped?" |Odile raises a brow, you can see all the various theories in her head shattering and reforming into new ones from that single statement.|

"I mean just that... Vale said they saw Sif... y'know... and they looped shortly after. Sif was talking about a dream he had during it, said it felt real, said he saw the island, the king, started remembering stuff... I don't see why Vale would lie about something like that, and from how shaken up Sif was, I think that was more than just a dream..."

"B-But then what does that mean?! Why wouldn't Siffrin be looping anymore?!" |Mira asks in a panic, while Odile just silently thinks to herself, hand on her chin.|

"I don't know... But with any luck Odile will have it figured out by the next bar we reach!" |You tease to help relieve the tension, causing Mira to snort in a laugh and Odile to give a slightly annoyed smirk.|

"You're really never going to let that go, are you?"

"Nope! Besides, as important as this is to figure out, we still have our plan set. We get to Bambouche, then we start to figure all this out. Right now we just gotta try and be there for them, the both of them. That means no bombarding them with questions about all this right now, okay m'dame?" |You give a playfully stern look at her with a waggle of your finger. She lets out a laugh before sighing.|

"Fine, fine. You're right, not a good idea to interrogate someone in a crisis anyways."

"What about Bonnie? Are we just going to keep this a secret from them?"|Mira asks, not liking the idea. Before you can respond the tent flap shifts, letting light pour in past a small silhouette. You sigh softly.|

"I was gonna say it's not like we could if we tried... You heard everything, didn't you Bonnie?" |They step inside from the light, their face twisted in a mix of emotions but clearly trying to fight it all back, wanting to seem grown up. They give a little nod.| "You okay?..." |They hesitate before nodding a bit heavier, still trying to act tough. You place a hand gently on their back.| "We're gonna figure this all out, and Sif's gonna be okay, I promise!"

"Do you want me to help you make breakfast, Bonnie? I'm sure Siffrin will feel better about all of this after a meal!" |They sniffle and nod, wiping the slight tears they were fighting so hard to keep back.|

[reidsangel]

seven minutes | s.r

summary: spencer, your husband is dying and there's nothing you can do but cherish those last moments

wc: 2.9k

warning: fem reader, death, tears, hurt, reader is reminiscing her life that she got to have with spencer, Spencer and reader have a daughter named Tessa.

song recommendation:

a/n: this is sad ( for me at least ) I cried while writing it so! just a heads up, and Spencer can be alive in your reality but in this one....yeah! 😕

The room felt suffocating, the weight of the silence pressing in on me as I sat beside Spencer, holding his hand. The beeping of the heart monitor was the only sound, steady and unyielding, a reminder of the fragile line between life and death. The man who had been my everything he is my rock, my soulmate, the father of our daughter and now he was lying there, unconscious, barely holding on.

Spencer had always been the one who believed in the good in the world, who believed in us, even when it felt like everything else was falling apart. And now he was here, so still, so quiet, and I couldn’t help but wonder if I had missed my chance to tell him everything I needed to say.

I had never imagined this day would come. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. We were supposed to grow old together, argue about little things, watch Tessa graduate, watch her get married. 

“Spencer” I whispered, leaning down to press my forehead against his. His skin was cold, too cold, and I squeezed his hand tighter, willing him to wake up. To give me that crooked smile that always made my heart skip a beat. “I don’t know how to do this without you. I need you, Spencer. Tessa needs you”

I glanced over at the small bundle of blankets in the corner, where Tessa had fallen asleep earlier, exhausted from the long hours of waiting. She was so young, so unaware of the storm that was brewing around us. I couldn’t imagine what her world would be like without her father. The way Spencer had always been there for her- his soft laughter, his gentle hands, his quiet way of making her feel safe. He was her everything, too.

I wiped away the tears that had fallen onto my cheeks, but there was no stopping them. Not this time. “I don’t know how to tell her, Spencer" I murmured, my voice breaking. "How do I explain to her that you’re not coming home ever again?”

His breathing was slow and shallow, his chest rising and falling with the effort of the machines that were plugged in. But I knew he couldn’t hear me. He couldn’t answer me. The doctors had said he was likely gone, that this was the end. But I refused to accept it. I refused to believe that this was the last time I would be sitting here with him. That the man who had spent his life trying to protect people, to help others, would be lost to me so soon.

I had spent so many years in love with this man. Spencer Reid, the genius, the man who had always tried to save everyone else. But now, no one could save him. And as much as I hated to admit it, I knew the truth. He was slipping away, and there was nothing I could do to stop it, there was nothing in this world- that could bring back my husband. 

I stood up from the chair, feeling the sting in my chest, and walked over to Tessa’s side. She was sleeping so peacefully, unaware of the storm raging just a few feet away. I brushed a strand of her hair out of her face and kissed her forehead, trying to hold back my tears. How am I supposed to do this alone?

“Mommy?” Her voice was soft, quiet, and I felt my heart break all over again.

I turned to face her, forcing a smile that didn’t reach my eyes. “Hey, baby. You’re awake”

Tessa blinked up at me, her small face filled with concern. “Is Daddy going to be okay?”

I swallowed the lump in my throat, my eyes filling with tears again. “Tessa baby, Daddy’s- he’s very sick, sweetie. But we’re going to stay here with him, okay? We’re not going anywhere”

She slid out of bed and walked toward me, her tiny hand reaching for mine. “Is Daddy going to come home with us?”

My heart cracked wide open. How do I explain this to her? How do I explain that the man who had filled her world with laughter, who had kissed her goodnight every night, the man who had loved her like she was the only one in the world, the man who cried when she took her first steps- would no longer be there to hold her? 

I bent down to her level, my hands trembling as I cupped her face, trying to find the words. But the truth was too hard. “No, baby” I whispered, my voice faltering. “Daddy- Daddy’s not coming home”

Tessa’s brow furrowed, her tiny fingers pressing into my palm. “Why? Why won’t he come home, Mommy?”

I felt the ache in my chest deepen, a lump in my throat that made it impossible to breathe. I searched for the right words, but nothing seemed like it could be enough. Finally, I whispered, my voice breaking, “Because he’s very, very tired, sweetie. And sometimes, people get so tired that they have to rest. They don’t wake up, baby. They go to a place, a beautiful place, with lots of birds and flowers- and a beach, a peaceful beach, where they can sleep forever”

Tessa looked up at me, her brow furrowed, trying to make sense of what I was saying. “But Daddy hates the beach, Mommy” she pouted, her voice small and innocent.

The pain in my chest twisted, and despite everything, I let out a soft chuckle, the sound a bittersweet mixture of love and heartbreak. She was right. Spencer had always hated the beach. The sand, the crowds, the heat. But at that moment, I could almost hear him laughing along with me. “I know, sweetie” I whispered, brushing a tear away, “but maybe this is a different kind of beach, one that he doesn’t mind”

“Daddy will sleep peacefully now” I whispered, my voice barely more than a soft breath, the weight of the words heavier than I ever imagined.

Her eyes widened, and she tilted her head in confusion. “Like when I sleep? But I wake up, Mommy. Daddy will wake up, too, right?”

I couldn’t hold back the sob that escaped my chest. I gathered her into my arms, feeling the weight of her innocence in my embrace. “I wish that were true, sweetie” I said, my voice breaking. “But Daddy- he’s not going to wake up this time”

Tessa clung to me, her little body trembling as she began to cry softly. “I want Daddy, Mommy. I want him to come home”

“I know, baby” I whispered, rocking her gently in my arms. “I want him too. But we have to be brave for him, okay? We have to be strong, because he would want us to be. He loves you so much. He’s always going to love you”

As I held my daughter, the weight of the grief settled over me like a blanket. Spencer had been the love of my life, the person who had seen me at my worst and still chosen me. And now, just like that, he was slipping away. I had no idea how to navigate this world without him, how to keep going without the man who had been my anchor and my light in the darkest days.

I looked over at the bed where Spencer lay, his face still and peaceful, the steady rhythm of the machines the only sign of life left. He was gone in every way that mattered. And I couldn’t find the strength to let go. Goddamn it Spencer. 

I leaned down to kiss Tessa’s forehead, holding her close as my tears mixed with hers. “We’ll get through this together” I whispered, even though I wasn’t sure how. “Daddy will always be in our hearts”

And even though I didn’t believe it in that moment, I said the words because they were all I could give her. Because, for her sake, I needed to believe we could somehow survive this. That we could carry Spencer’s memory and his love through the rest of our lives.

But as I looked at Spencer, lying motionless, I knew that life would never be the same. That part of me had already left with him, and all that was left was the aching reminder of everything I had lost. 

It all started with a meeting in the most ordinary way. I was walking out of a coffee shop, balancing a cup of coffee in one hand and my phone in the other when I bumped into someone. The coffee spilled over the side of my cup, splashing onto my shirt. I looked up, half-expecting an angry look, but instead I saw Spencer. His wide, concerned eyes met mine, and in that moment, I swear the world stopped.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry” he stammered, his voice as soft as it was nervous. “I didn’t mean to-”

“No, no, it's okay” I laughed, trying to brush off my embarrassment. “It’s my fault, really”

His hand reached out, almost instinctively, to grab a napkin and dab at the coffee stain on my shirt. I tried to protest, but he was already focused, like the calm in the chaos of a spill. 

“I’m Spencer” he said, his words just a little too fast, a little too eager. “Spencer Reid”

“Nice to meet you, Spencer Reid” I smiled, trying to hide the fluttering in my chest at how kind he was, how gentle, even in the face of disaster.

And that was how we met. It wasn’t dramatic, it wasn't a moment of fireworks and music in the background. It was simple, a collision of two separate people over a cup of spilled coffee, but it was the start of everything I had ever wanted in my life. 

In the days that followed, we spent time together in unexpected places, at the local park, where Spencer would sit with me on the grass, casually pointing out the constellations even though I was mostly just trying to keep up. Or when we’d go to his favorite little bookstore, and he’d tug me down aisles filled with dusty books, his voice soft as he recited bits of poetry or scientific facts he was too proud to admit had a bit of a romantic edge.

There were small moments- too small for anyone to notice but us. The way his fingers would brush mine when we were sitting next to each other, or how he would always hold the door open for me, as though I were the most important thing in the world. I had never seen someone love the world in the way he did, with that quiet intensity, like he was constantly seeking meaning in everything.

And then there was the day we brought Tessa home from the hospital. The overwhelming joy of her tiny hand curled around Spencer’s finger, the way he couldn’t stop staring at her in awe, like he couldn’t believe she was ours.

 He was always a little awkward with babies, he didn’t know how to hold her quite right at first, his arms unsure- but that didn’t matter. It wasn’t the perfect way he held her that mattered. It was the way his face lit up when she wrapped her fingers around his hand, trusting him, even though she couldn’t know who he was yet.

“Look at her” he whispered, his voice barely audible, like he was afraid the moment would shatter. “She’s perfect” 

I remember laughing through the tears, feeling his hand on my back, steady and warm. “You’re perfect too, you know that?”

And just like that, he smiled- his crooked, beautiful smile, the one that always made me feel like I had all the time in the world, like we were invincible, that nothing would ever tear us apart.

In the quiet of our evenings, the moments we shared were so simple, but they were everything. Spencer would always find a way to surprise me. Whether it was with a new book on the latest research he was obsessed with or a jar of my favorite strawberry jam that he’d hidden in the back of the pantry for a rainy day, he always knew exactly how to make me smile.

And then there were the quiet moments when it was just us. On the couch, Tessa tucked between us, Spencer would lean in, his voice soft and full of affection. “You know, you make me feel like I’m home” he’d whisper into my hair, his fingers tracing little circles on my wrist, making me feel like the most cherished person in the world.

Now, sitting in the sterile quiet of the hospital room, I find myself clinging to those little moments, trying to hold on to the pieces of Spencer that were so effortlessly woven into my life. I stare at him, unconscious, hooked to the machines that now marked the final stage of his fight with his life. But even in this hospital room, I could almost feel him with me, as if his presence was never bound by the limits of his body.

I remember the way we would argue about the simplest things, like how to properly fold the towels or what movie to watch on a Saturday night. Spencer would pretend to be exasperated, his arms crossed, but I always knew he loved it. He loved our little quirks, our silly fights, because they meant we were living together as a married couple.

I remember the soft way he’d kiss me goodnight, every night, no matter how long the day had been. “I love you” he’d whisper, his voice low, the warmth of his breath brushing against my cheek. His words never failed to make my heart race, always filled with the same unspoken promise- that we’d always have each other, no matter what.

And then there were the moments we shared just for ourselves, when Tessa was asleep and the world outside felt far away. Spencer would pull me close, his arms wrapping around me like he never wanted to let me go. “We’re good, right?” he’d ask, his voice a little too soft, a little too vulnerable.

“We’re perfect” I’d reply, knowing that in this imperfect world, we were exactly what we needed.

But now, in this room, with his hand cold in mine, those little moments felt like pieces of a dream, fading with every beat of the heart monitor. And I wanted so desperately to hold on to them, to keep him with me, even if I couldn’t have him here physically.

“Spencer, I love you” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “I’ll love you forever”

His chest rose and fell with a shallow breath, the machines beeping in the stillness of the room. I could hear the echoes of our love, the laughter, the whispers, the simple moments we shared. And somehow, through the pain, I knew that those memories would never leave me. They would be the quiet whisper in the back of my mind, the soft touch I would carry with me for the rest of my life.

No matter what happened in this room, no matter what the doctors said, Spencer Reid would always be the love of my life, the one who had made me believe in a future filled with joy, laughter, and love. And as much as I wished for just one more moment, just one more laugh, I knew that the moments we’d shared were enough to last a lifetime.

The human brain, in it’s final seconds, can play the whole life of a person- every detail, every memory, every quiet moment. In seven minutes. In those seven minutes, Spencer would be granted a final chance to relive his life- every moment, every laugh, every tear- before he would drift into eternal sleep, leaving this world behind for good.

 Seven minutes to relive a lifetime.

I leaned down, pressing my lips to Spencer’s forehead, the coldness of his skin sending a shudder through me. My tears fell freely now, each one carrying the weight of every word left unsaid, every moment we would never get to share. I whispered, my voice barely a breath, “You can rest now, my love. You’ve fought so hard. I’ll carry you with me, always”

But the words felt hollow, empty, like they were trying to hold together something that was already slipping through my fingers. I couldn’t make it stop. I couldn’t bring him back. I couldn’t save him this time.

The sound of the machines, the quiet beeping that had been the soundtrack of our fight, faded into a painful silence. And in that silence, all I could feel was the gaping hole he left behind. A hole that no amount of time would ever heal. He was gone. My Spencer was gone.

I would carry him with me, as broken as I felt, as shattered as I was. I would tell our daughter every story, every memory, every beautiful moment. I would make sure she knew just how much he loved her. 

I looked at Spencer, lying there, still and peaceful, I whispered one last time, my voice trembling with the weight of my grief, “Always” 

And then, with a heart that felt too heavy to carry, I had to let him go. Forever.

@carisc4pshaw @1992chinawhite

[alynnia]

After the 6th love interest is released...(Various LaDs ramblings)

Will the plot advance forward? I mean, I know it's doing that already little by little, but it feels more like introductions for the LIs while more questions arise. I doubt this game will ever have an actual ending, but will we get endings to various arcs, at least? Big finale events with boss fights along the lines of Ever president transforming into a monster, or fighting Astra himself if he isn't a love interest. Actually, no, let him be a love interest, AND we fight him.

In fact, I want to fight against the current love interests, too!

-Sylus dragon urges coming back up again, and he can't help himself from becoming a danger. So MC teams up with Xavier to fight him. This is a purposeful suicide mission by Sylus, and he wants MC to do a repeat of killing him again. But after MC and Xavier beat him, she instead uses her resonance evol or some McGuffin to fix him instead.

-Raf's God mode goes haywire and similar situation as a above except we team up with 6th LI (since he may be related to Raf in some way, as the current theories go) to fight and save him.

-Xavier going a little crazy from all this time jumping and his people coming to MC to stop him before he breaks something. Sylus teams up with MC to fight him.

-Zayne's condition turns him into actual Elsa in the way of accidentally freezing everything to the point it spreads all over Linkon. So MC teams up with Caleb to fight him. Maybe Dawnbreaker takes over Zayne or something idk

-Caleb...I honestly got no idea here until we see his next myth. Hoping he's either a fallen angel or snake but really I'm cool with anything monster-boy related. But yeah, we team up with Zayne to kick his ass too!

And after we've saved all the guys, then it comes down to a big team up all out war against the biggest enemy (maybe Astra)!

-Some other musings-

MC death and power: We know she has died in her past lives, but in this one, she's died over and over again as a child with her memories erased but becoming more powerful each time. This HAS to come up again as an adult, right? I can see this happening at the end of an Arc where she has to sacrifice herself to save everyone or sacrifice herself to prevent everything being destroyed by her power but comes back to life again with mo memories. Perhaps then, the memories we collected (the cards we got, the photos we take, the text messages and plushies we gathered) plays into the story as helping her remember these men.

Everyone is Astra: This is just an idea more than a theory of any kind but I was thinking about the possibility of all the LI's being pieces of Astra. (You ever see the movie 9? Something like that) Like, Astra being a God that fell for MC's soul but saw this love as a weakness so he tore out pieces of himself that loved her over and over again until there was none left. Those pieces of himself took shape as the LI's who DO get to interact with her and being part of a God they're all OP in their own ways with Raf likely being the biggest chunk since he's a god in his own right. Astra, now void of love can function "properly" as a god but MC and her bullshit still stands in his way somehow.

I just got this scene bouncing around in my head of all the LI's rejoining Astra and we get to see an amalgamation of them as one man for a short time before they all are split back up again.

I just want big, mind blowing action packed drama and the satisfaction of going " OOOHHH so THAT'S why X Y Z is happening! "

[egcdeath]

just what the doctor ordered - chapter 2

pairing: harvey (sdv) x reader

summary: as a successful lawyer in the city, you’re almost certain that nothing can throw you for a loop. that is, until a visit to your sister’s farm brings you to the small town’s doctor. 

chapter summary: you have your first feast of the winter star in the valley. it’s not at all what you expect it to be.

words: 8.9k

warnings: IDIOTS to lovers, slow burn, yearning, fluff, lots of nerves, your sister is kinda an annoying younger sibling, mentions of drinking/being drunk, no use of y/n, harvey AND you are bad at feelings, trivia night, almost a ‘there was only one bed’ moment, lots of love life meddling, cursing, feast of the winter star celebrations

author’s note: i hope you enjoy the Grade A yearning in this chapter!

previous chapter | next chapter

You weren’t sure what exactly you expected when you decided to visit your sister in Stardew Valley for the holiday, but it certainly wasn’t this. In fact, if you’d known that you would be dragging your suitcase and feet through inches of snow just to attempt to get from the train station to her farmhouse, you probably would’ve just stayed home. 

“For fuck’s sake,” you huffed as the two of you approached a vacant-looking spa. You’d barely made it twenty paces away from the train station and your luggage was already soaked and getting more and more difficult to push with every step you took. “Does no one in this place drive a car? Do you have a tractor? A bike? A scooter? I mean, I’ll literally take anything at this point.”

“Okay, Ms. Walkable Cities. This community is walkable. I thought you liked that!”

“I like them when there isn’t snow up to my shins to walk through! Trust me when I say that this,” you gestured to the snow around you, “is not walkable.”

“Fine,” she was clearly fed up with your complaining, but who wouldn’t be? “The mayor has a truck and he owes me a favor. I’ll just ask him to pick us up.”

You shivered as she dialed, hugging your thick coat to yourself and hoping that whoever came to pick you up did so swiftly. That, or death from hypothermia would take you out quickly. Whichever came more expeditiously and relieved you from the neverending suffering that was bitter cold.

“Hey Lewis. I just need a quick favor… No, you definitely owe me one. Remember the-... Yeah, any way I could borrow the truck?… Oh. Oh… Wait, who has it?…. Oh! Well, thanks for letting me know,” your sister hung up on him but remained on her phone, seemingly dialing another number with a newfound smile on her face. 

You weren’t so sure what she was so pleased about. “So he’s not coming? Are you getting us an Uber, or something? Do they have those out here?” you were growing impatient with your situation and would do just about anything to be somewhere with heat and without snow on the ground. 

“Please. Shh,” she hushed you before lifting her phone to her ear once more. You were unsatisfied with this non-answer. 

“Hey! I heard you have Lewis’ truck right now. Any way that you could help me out and give me a ride back to the farm? I think standing out in the cold is giving me a cold…” she forced a cough before continuing. “Ugh, amazing. You’re the best. I’m by the train station, over by the spa… Okay, five minutes. Sounds good. Thanks!”

Your sister looked oddly smug as she put her phone back into her pocket. “Now you owe me one too.”

“Can we just say that I’ve repaid my debt in taking the fall for the billions of broken vases in our childhood? Or all the bottles I donated to your underage wine nights?”

“Fine,” she conceded, clearly more fed up with your incessant complaining than anything else.

“Who’s picking us up?” you asked, as if you really knew anyone in the first place. 

“Oh, you don’t know him.”

You sighed and shook your head. As if the cold temperature and the sensory nightmare of wet pants from the snow weren’t enough, now your sister was cryptically answering your questions. “Okay.”

When the truck pulled up, you were shocked to find none other than Dr. Harvey himself manning the vehicle. So much for not knowing who the driver was. So much for not meddling in each other’s love lives. Although, you supposed that this was accidental. Somehow, you just knew that you would be hearing the word ‘fate’ all weekend. 

Before you could even approach the backseat, your sister took it upon herself to launch herself into the back of the truck, giving you no other option but to sit beside Harvey in the front. 

You took your time throwing your luggage in the bed of the trunk, doing your best to mentally hype yourself up for the encounter. You’d stared down hundreds of men far more intimidating than Harvey in settings far more nerve wracking than the passenger seat of a car. Logically, you knew there was nothing to be concerned about, but in practice, you couldn’t help but feel a massive pit in your stomach. Why was it so debilitating for you to have a little crush? You barely even knew the guy. 

Hesitantly, you opened the door to the vehicle and did your best to avoid eye contact as you sat down in the seat next to the man. You scolded yourself internally for acting so out of character already. “Thanks for picking us up.”

There. That was neutral enough and inoffensive enough that it didn’t give any indication that your heart was currently beating like a hummingbird’s after eight shots of espresso. Not that you should be feeling that way anyway, when your only interaction with him was of him doing his job. Distantly, you wondered how many of his clients had developed crushes on him after a particularly emotionally-loaded physical or minor injury. You tried not to get too carried away, but you couldn’t help but imagine someone waiting for him back in the Valley bringing him a flirty cup of coffee in the morning and batting their lashes incessantly waiting for him to notice their beauty. 

“No problem at all. I had no idea you were coming to town,” He seemed genuinely excited to see you, your imaginary townsperson with long, luscious lashes and great coffee taste be damned. It wasn’t lost on you that he skipped right past your smug sibling in the backseat to talk with you. “How’s the hand?”

“Fully recovered,” you lifted your hand to illustrate your words. You wondered if he noticed your freshly manicured nails as he briefly glanced at your hands, before fixing his eyes on the windshield once more. Man, was he focused on getting you two home safely. There was something so attractive about a responsible driver. You scolded yourself once more on how easy it was for you to swoon over ridiculous things when you had a crush. 

“That’s what I like to hear. What brings you to town?” Despite the fact that his vision was trained ahead of you, you were sure that he would feel your eyes watching him if you admired his side profile a bit too hard, so you decided to force your gaze away—turning to watch the slowly moving scenery and attempting to calm your climbing nerves. 

“Oh, just visiting to celebrate the holiday. We usually spend it at my place, but I thought it might be fun to switch it up this year. The Winter Star festivities in the city can get a little repetitive.”

“Really? I’ve always wanted to visit the Zuzu Holiday Market. It seems like a lot of fun,” Harvey responded.

“It is fun, don’t get me wrong, but there are only so many times that you can drink extra chocolatey hot chocolate and go ice skating ‘til your sister vomits in a bush before you get bored,” you laughed as you recalled the event, though you were mortified at the time.

“Are you serious? That was one time! And I had food poisoning!” your sibling finally spoke up. 

You did little to hide your amusement. Since she got you into this predicament in the first place, the least you could do was embarrass her a little bit too. 

“Anyway, you’re free to stay with me if you’d ever like to go,” you paused, wondering if your words were too suggestive or overly friendly for someone you’d only met once. “I also know a few good hotels nearby, so…”

It wasn’t the best save, but it was certainly better than nothing. 

“That’s so kind of you to offer! I don’t know if I’ll be going any time soon, but I appreciate it.” You cringed internally as he spoke, knowing you shouldn’t have been so overzealous. You reminded yourself that you had only met once before this point, and it was in a fully professional capacity, but in the corner of your eye, you caught Harvey looking at you for a split second and… was he blushing?

Though you’d only made it to square one-and-a-quarter, with one little glance, you were suddenly back at square one, butterflies dancing in your stomach and heat crawling up your neck.

“Well, it’s the least I can do after you fixed my hand,” you laughed awkwardly, once again rendered useless by your feelings. The two of you sat in silence for a moment as both of you attempted to gather yourselves and you began to fantasize about melting into the passenger seat of the truck. Somehow, the goopy puddle of yourself would be less embarrassing than you now.

“Anyway, we’re going to trivia tonight,” your sister interjected, clearly fed up with getting second hand embarrassment from you. “Are you coming too?”

“I was kinda on the fence. I need to do a few things to prepare for flu season and-” Harvey began to explain before being abruptly cut off.

“Oh, come on, Harvo. The town isn’t gonna collapse if you take one night off. Besides, it’s a tradition to do Winter Star Eve trivia! We missed you last year. Although, Maru and I still kicked ass.”

Harvey looked to your sister in the rearview mirror, then to you, then back at the road. “Alright, I’ll come. But only because I need to see if you and Maru are who you claim to be.”

“I knew you had it in you. Cold and flu season can wait,” she seemed oddly satisfied with herself in the same way she seemed a little proud of herself after she got off the phone with Harvey. You couldn’t help but feel like the woman had something up her sleeve.

You somehow made it through the rest of the short drive without embarrassing yourself too badly, though you might’ve been slightly too enthusiastic as you thanked Harvey for the ride and bid him farewell. As if you hadn’t had enough humiliation for one lifetime in the span of ten minutes, your sister felt no need to give you any sort of break.

“That was an accident, by the way. But… Harvey’s been asking me about you,” your sister wasted no time addressing the elephant in the room as the two of you dragged your luggage up to where you’d be staying. Part of you wanted to whack her with your suitcase. The other part of you wanted to ask for more information–to hear every single detail about what he said and how he said it. Did he blush as he asked? Did he look really interested? Did he say anything about wanting to see you again?

None of those questions made it past your lips. “Shut up,” was all you could respond with as your cheeks heated up enough to melt the snowy ground outside.

“I’m serious! Whenever I stop by the clinic he asks me what you’re up to, how your health is, how you’re healing from your injury,” she went on as she walked you to your room. 

“I’m pretty sure that’s just small talk,” you dismissed as you sat down on the foot of the bed which had been neatly made in anticipation of your arrival. Deep down, you hoped that him asking about you meant something. Realistically, you knew he was just being a considerate friend.

“Eh, you should hear the way he says it. Like you hung the moon and he’s asking for updates on the moon,” she lingered in the doorway, watching you collapse flat on your back.

“That doesn’t even make sense,” you spoke up to the ceiling. It almost felt like if she saw your face, she might be able to read your mind. Not like that would make much difference anyway, as she already saw straight through you and your little crush on the doctor. 

“Whatever,” she somehow made the one word sound like the most exasperated expression ever uttered. You almost wanted to tell her that she sounded like your mother. “The point is, he liked you a lot too. One might even argue that you’re always on his mind.”

“Who said I liked him a lot?” you could feel her skeptical look without even seeing it. 

“Whatever,” she repeated, this time sounding even more fed up. “He liked you a lot, even if it’s completely unreciprocated. We personally think that you two would be cute together.”

“You got that from one interaction you watched? And who is this we?” you asked, though you already had a pretty good idea of who was making up this other mythical person. 

“That’s my cue to leave,” she sidestepped into the hallway. “Be ready to go by seven. And don’t fight fate!” she sing-songed as she disappeared further into the house.

You sighed hard enough to shake the foundations of the building you were in. 

The two of you made it to the saloon early enough to get a booth, your sister looking at the door every few minutes as she very obviously waited for your guests to arrive. She asked you a few questions about how your life was going, but her heart clearly wasn’t really in it. Finally, Maru walked through the door and it was like a switch flicked in her. She was filled with enthusiasm as she waved the other woman down, a toothy grin plastered on her face. The enthusiasm seemed very mutual, as Maru couldn’t seem to wipe the smile off her face as she excitedly talked to your sister about the techy project she was working on. 

Though you didn’t particularly mind observing your sibling act like a lovesick puppy, you didn’t have to third wheel for too long, as shortly after Maru sat down, Harvey joined you at the table. As if you were playing Whac-A-Mole, his arrival prompted your sister to get up, announce she was going to get everyone drinks, and leave. She couldn’t have picked a worse time to leave, as the only thing keeping you feeling somewhat normal in Harvey’s presence was the comfort blanket of other people.

You watched as she talked to the bartender for a particularly long stretch of time, before returning to your booth looking like the cat who caught the cream. For the second time that day, you were struck with the feeling that she had meddled somewhere she knew she shouldn’t have.

“Everything okay?” you asked though you were almost scared to know what she had up her sleeve. 

“Mhm. I’ve just never seen someone so proud to ask for wine at a tavern,” she replied as she distributed your drinks, shamelessly taking a dig at Harvey. Neither Harvey nor Maru seemed particularly phased by the words. If anything, it looked like Maru was holding back a giggle. 

“Is it not your wine?” Harvey asked once she passed him he received his glass. 

“It is. That doesn’t make it any less uncouth,” she replied.

“Just be happy he’s supporting your small, local business,” you chimed in before taking a sip of your own drink. It was much stronger than you expected. Something told you that for the evening you were about to have, you might need that.

Before you could give your sister more shit, the man behind the bar began to make an announcement. 

“Thank you all for coming out tonight. At the request of some of our guests, we’ll only be doing duos trivia tonight. We’ll get started in a bit,” his voice was loud and easily reverberated through the bar, only to be met with a few murmurs and groans from the townspeople at the thought of splitting up their carefully curated team. 

Surely, this was not what your sister was scheming with the bartender to do. After all, she included the idea of doing trivia together as one of the many benefits of spending your Winter Star celebration in Stardew Valley. You looked at the woman in question, who was pointedly making an effort not to look back at you. You’d seen enough guilty people in your lifetime to know when you were looking at one–and you most certainly were. 

“Team sisters vs. team doctors?” you suggested, partially to confirm your suspicions, partially to see if you could get out of an evening of embarrassment with Harvey. As you should’ve anticipated, your sister immediately shot the offer down.

“No, I think Maru and I are gonna work together. Right?” she continued to avoid eye contact with both you and Harvey, deciding to look at her partner in crime instead.

“That works with me,” the two of them shared a knowing stare. You couldn’t help but feel like you were being left out of some sort of inside joke. You glanced at Harvey to see if he was in on it too, but he looked just as deer-in-headlights as you were sure you did. 

“Bye, old-timers,” your sister bade you farewell as she and Maru quickly got out of the booth and easily found somewhere new to sit. 

“Old timers?” Harvey sputtered. “Thirties is not old!”

You laughed at his indignance. At the very least, your laughter helped to keep some of the nerves that were quickly creeping in at bay.  “You see what I have to put up with? She’s been like this forever.”

“I can only imagine what you two put your parents through,” Harvey laughed right along with you. You wondered if he was feeling even a fraction of the nerves that you currently were. 

“To this day, our family dinners are always a little intense,” you replied, trying to ignore the vision that arose of Harvey being at one of those very family dinners. Would he argue like the rest of you? Or would he sit quietly, only entering the conversation when someone said something particularly shady towards you? Something told you he would do more of the latter than the former. Not that he would ever end up with your family in the first place.

The two of you wordlessly sipped your drinks, the silence awkward and almost unbearable. After a series of awkward, chemistry-less dates, you’d forgotten how socially clumsy having a crush made you feel. Usually, small talk came easy to you—in fact, you could probably speak uninterrupted for a whole hour if given the chance, but when it came to socializing with the man in front of you, you struggled. 

“So, you already know why I’m here, but what brought you here?” you finally spoke up, opting to look down at your drink rather than at the man across the table from you. If only your boss could see you now–you were sure you’d be fired in a heartbeat. But you didn’t want to be a hotshot attorney around Harvey, you just wanted to be… you. And if that meant you were an awkward pool of nerves around him, then so be it. 

“I mean, you were there. Your sister invited me,” he looked slightly confused by your question. 

“No, I mean,” you laughed, feeling even more of the tension in your body melt away with the action. “What brought you to the valley?”

“Oh,” the man in front of you looked more like a tomato than a human. At least you had some confirmation that you weren’t the only one feeling incredibly awkward. “Sorry. I tried out the city for a bit, went to school there, did my residency there, but it was… a lot. I wanted to settle somewhere a little more quiet, so…”

“So you picked the most quiet place possible?” you finished his sentence for him. 

“Well, yeah. I guess I did. It wasn’t fully on purpose, but I saw a job posting that said the previous owner was set to retire, and the timing just worked out well. I finished up my residency, came here and shadowed her for a few months, and the rest is history.”

“But you like it here?” you asked, finally making eye contact with the man—which proved to be a mistake, as the butterflies in your stomach took that as their cue to take flight. 

“I do. I feel like I get to know my patients a lot better than if I were a doctor elsewhere. Although, it feels like most people here view me as only the doctor and nothing else. I’m sure it’s similar for you, being an attorney.”

“I can’t exactly say I relate. A lot of our clients are corporations, and despite what the government might say, they are very much not people. But it definitely comes with its own set of issues. There’s a level of anonymity you get being in the city. I’m sure you remember. It’s oddly… lonely? Sometimes. I almost wonder if I’d feel it less if I lived somewhere like this.”

“Would you?” he paused to take a sip of his drink. As he lifted it up to his mouth, you noticed the slight shake of his hands. If you weren’t sure before that he was nervous, you were absolutely certain now. That had to be a good sign, right? Unless he was anxious about being left alone with someone like you, who obviously had a crush on him and was doing a terrible job at concealing it. The thought of making Harvey uncomfortable immediately made you nauseous. 

“Hmm?” you were so lost in your thoughts that you could barely process his words.

“Would you ever live in a place like this?” he clarified.

You glanced around the buzzing bar, watching friends double over with laughter as they talked, and patrons who were surely regulars giving the bartenders a hard time. There was no doubt that the Valley was charming, with its picturesque landscape and interesting inhabitants. You thought about your sister, who easily made a life for herself there in only a matter of years, then yourself, who spent what felt like a lifetime making the version of your life that you always thought you wanted. You felt a lump grow in your throat. 

“I don’t know. I think I’d get bored. It doesn’t really seem like anyone here needs legal assistance, so I don’t know what I’d be doing all day other than twirling my thumbs and bothering my sister.”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” on his face, you read what almost looked like disappointment. Maybe you were just projecting onto him, but more than anything, it seemed like he just needed a friend. It had to be difficult to only be seen as just your career, not as a whole person. Maybe that was why he’d taken such a liking to you right off the bat, if your sister’s words had any credence. 

“I guess I could follow her footsteps and be a farmer. But I’d really be no good at it. I mean, you saw how that worked out for me,” you openly referenced your accident with the jar.

Your conversation was interrupted by a blue-haired woman dropping off a white board and marker at your table. 

“Good luck!” she said enthusiastically, her gaze lingering on you for an extra moment. You guessed you shouldn’t be so shocked that the town was intrigued by outsiders when they probably had very few visitors. 

At any rate, you were slightly thankful that her interruption gave you an opportunity to take the conversation in a different direction. You didn’t exactly want to dump all of your problems on Harvey during your first non-work related outing. 

“Are you any good at trivia?” you asked once you finished off your drink. 

“I’m alright,” he shrugged. “I enjoy reading and learning in general, so I’d like to think that I know some stuff.”

“Good, because I’m absolutely useless,” you flashed him a smile, working some of that courtroom charm. Internally, you reprimanded yourself for not being yourself, but it was sometimes easier to put on a mask of confidence, than to be your boring, true self.

“I doubt that,” he reassured you. You tried to ignore the way that he consistently spoke so highly of you made you feel. You weren’t sure why or how someone who knew you so little was so willing to compliment you.

“Oh trust me, you’ll see.”

The first few questions weren’t too bad, with most groups having the correct answer on their shared white board. With Harvey as your scribe—his penmanship surprisingly legible for a doctor—the two of you quickly made your way up the leaderboard. 

Though you both knew a good share of the answers, there was something about the way Harvey looked at you after you answered a particularly difficult question that left the rest of the room stumped. In fact, he looked at you like there wasn’t a single other soul in the room. It both excited and terrified you. While you couldn’t pinpoint the exact way it made you feel, the one thing that you were sure about was wanting to climb over the table and kiss him until your lips went numb. But maybe that was just the two extra glasses of wine speaking–although you weren’t totally sure it was.

As the game came to a close, your score was tied with two other groups. It was just your luck that the final question was one about an obscure television program that just happened to be one of your favorites growing up. You leaned across the table to whisper the answer in Harvey’s ear, paranoid that another group might overhear, but finding yourself feeling mildly intoxicated by your proximity to him. You barely kept your composure enough to not let on to the burning feeling deep inside of you. 

You watched nervously as Harvey lifted the whiteboard with your answer, and somehow, you two managed to be the only team to get it right. The man behind the bar announced the two of you as the winners, leading you to cheer amongst the collective groan in the tavern. 

“How did you know that?” he asked in awe, green eyes practically sparkling at you. You recalled what your sister said about him earlier, and how he spoke about you like you hung the moon. Right now, he was looking at you as if you’d done just that. 

“I don’t know, I just did,” you shrugged and laughed, doing your best to push down the butterflies that were aggressively flapping their wings in your stomach. 

“I can’t believe you tried to tell me you’re bad at this! You’re amazing! Is there anything you can’t do?” he began to gush, and you couldn’t lie, the way he was speaking about you was definitely doing something for you. 

“Oh please. You should see me attempt anything that requires any sort of hand-eye coordination,” you dismissed, though you were quite pleased with his praise. 

“I don’t believe you,” he laughed, clearly feeling more loose from the few glasses of wine you shared. “I don’t believe you at all. You’re just trying to be humble. I mean, smart, beautiful, charismatic... What don’t you have? No wonder you would wanna understate your talents.”

Did he just call you beautiful?

The two of you seemed to have this realization at the same time, both of your brows shooting up in surprise as the tomato made a return for what must’ve been the third time that night. 

“I’m sorry, I-“

Your lips were loose with alcohol, which became abundantly clear as you spoke. “Nothing to be sorry about. You’re not too hard on the eyes either. In fact, when we were in the clinic and my heart was racing, it was because-”

“Hey!” your sister announced her presence with her booming voice. From the one word and the way she was leaning on Maru, you could tell that the two of them certainly had more to drink than you and Harvey. “I declare foul play. I wanna rematch.”

“I don’t think you’re in any state for a rematch,” you commented as you took in her slightly disheveled appearance. 

“Whatever, cheaters,” you giggled at the vitriol in her voice. “Oh please. This is not a laughing matter.”

“I think that means it’s time to go home?” you suggested. 

Your sister sat down next to you in the booth. “It means the opposite, actually. The night’s just beginning!”

“Speak for yourself, I’m going home,” Maru yawned and stretched her arms to portray just how tired she was.

“Let me walk you home,” Harvey offered, ever the kind-hearted man. In a split second, you wrote a narrative in your head that he wanted to stay and talk to you until the sun came up, but prioritized the safety of his friend and co-worker. You couldn’t think of one person you’d seen in the past three years who would do the same. As quickly as the thought came up, you reminded yourself that you and Harvey were not seeing each other. In fact, you were basically still strangers. Strangers who complimented each other’s appearance after winning the town’s trivia night.

Moments after the two of them left, you suggested to your sister that the two of you follow suit. It seemed like most people were on their way out, and you didn’t want to draw any more attention to yourself by being labeled: The Sister from the City Who Stays Out Way Too Long.

Luckily, your sister was on the same page for the most part, before she had a sudden realization, “Wait, I need to walk Maru home first.”

“Harvey’s walking her back already,” you reminded her, but that did little to stop her from shooting up from the booth and heading right out of the tavern. You quietly cursed to yourself as you grabbed your belongings and ran after your sister.

Much to your chagrin, when you stepped outside, you discovered your sister chasing after a set of footsteps imprinted in freshly fallen snow. You sighed and followed her briskly, not pleased by the snow landing on your skin and the flashbacks of trying to collect your high schooler sibling after she called you begging to stay the night at your apartment, claiming that your parents would kill her if they found out she snuck out.

After even more cursing under your breath, you finally caught up with your sister, who was absolutely delighted to now be walking with her friends. 

“Oh Maru, I thought you were gone for good,” she blubbered as she hugged her tightly. “Never do that to me again.”

What she was requesting she never do again, you weren’t quite sure. 

“Never again,” she promised, embracing your sister securely. It was surprisingly earnest, despite the fact that you had absolutely no idea what the two of them were on about.

You looked at Harvey, whose foggy glasses prevented you from fully reading his expression. You would have to ask him about this later. 

After all of the theatrics, Maru made it home safely, with the two women embracing once more on her doorstep. Now, you’d had your fair share of drunken, overenthusiastic platonic affection, and from your reading of the situation, this was nothing of the sort. You looked to Harvey again to see if he was seeing this too, and he looked almost as puzzled as you. 

The two finally broke apart once Maru announced that she was cold and going inside, leaving you to trek all the way back to your farm. That, you were not all that excited about. 

“Now that she mentioned it, I’m cold too,” your sister stated. It seemed like the alcohol coat only lasted so long before the fact that she left her actual coat in the saloon caught up to her. While in any other situation you would’ve grabbed it for her, you were far more focused on actually catching your sibling on the run than checking what she did or didn’t leave behind. Besides, it was a small town. Surely, the owner of the tavern would have it safely inside for her. He might even throw it in the washer and dryer for her, leaving it folded and clean for when she picked it up.

“I’m honestly surprised that you lasted this long without it,” you chuckled as you slipped your coat off your own shoulders and onto hers, hoping that your hefty sweater would be sufficient enough to keep you warm on your way back home. You only made it a few steps in the direction you were going before you realized that would unfortunately not be the case.

Your sister spoke up yet again, somehow even more chatty drunk than she was sober. “Can we just stay in the clinic? It’s so much closer. And there are beds,” she seemed to be asking you more than she was asking Harvey, which confused you a little bit—but you simply added that to the long list of things that left you slightly confused that night. 

You didn’t dwell on it for too long, as it turned out that you were absolutely freezing without a coat. In fact, your teeth were beginning to chatter. Luckily for you, the game of Musical Coats continued when the doctor standing next to you offered his own coat to you. 

You didn’t even have to say a word and he noticed.

You looked over at Harvey as if to say, “Seriously?” and he smiled and nodded back to you. You tried your best not to swoon too hard, though every interaction with him was making that more and more of an uphill battle. You attempted to write it off as a considerate doctor looking out for someone who might get sick from the cold, but deep down, you knew that wasn’t the case.

“That’s fine with me. The clinic’s not too far from us,” he explained to you as you snuggled into his blue overcoat. It was still quite warm from his body heat and smelled exactly like the cologne you’d gotten a whiff of during your exam. You wanted no more than to drown in the masculine scent. 

It didn’t take too much more trudging to get to his place, and after Harvey unlocked the door to the clinic, your sister wasted no time disappearing into an exam room and making herself right at home on a cot. 

“Thanks for letting us stay the night. I had no clue she was just gonna invite us to your place like this,” you attempted to apologize. As you looked up at Harvey, the difference in your heights caught you a bit off guard. You would have to store that information in your mind for a later date. 

“It’s not a problem at all. I told you, you’re welcome any time here. The beds are just around the corner to your right, if you’d like to lay down too,” he explained as he turned the lights to the clinic on. 

“You know, I’m not all that tired,” you weren’t exactly sure what you were doing, other than trying to extend your time with Harvey. You were emboldened by the evening you’d had, feeling far less unsure about the feelings of the man in front of you than you did just a few hours ago. 

“Oh? I can walk you to the farm, if you want,” he offered, looking at you very sweetly.

He was so kind and so clueless. You were pretty sure that you’d let him do whatever he wanted to you—but you were getting way ahead of yourself there. 

“No, you’ve already done more than enough for us tonight,” you glanced at the coat you were still donning as if to remind him of his sweet gesture. You did your best to allow him to take control of the situation, not wanting to impede further on him than you already had. 

“Hmm. Could I interest you in a cup of coffee? It’s decaf, but-“

“Absolutely,” you wasted no time answering.

That was how you ended up in Harvey’s apartment, nosily looking through the decor in the room as you attempted to put the pieces together of who he really was when he wasn’t working with patients.

“What’s this?” you asked as you bent over the display, careful not to touch anything and possibly mess something up.

“Oh, um… these are some model planes I built… do you like them?” he asked, the nerves in his voice not at all lost on you. 

“These are cool as hell,” you affirmed, sitting down at the desk and leaning over so you could get a closer look. You pointed at a contraption with a pair of bulky headphones attached to it. “What’s this?”

“Oh, it’s kinda like a radio, but for flights. You can talk to pilots through it,” Harvey explained, using the hand not occupied by mugs of coffee to pull over a chair. 

“Can I try it?” you asked, unsure of what possessed you to do so. 

“I can’t guarantee we’ll make contact with anyone, but of course.”

He gently sat the headphones on your head, careful not to mess with your hair, and began to fidget with the radio until static stopped coming through the device. 

“Are you sure your true calling in life wasn’t to be a pilot?” you asked jokingly, gazing at him with as much adoration as he gave you at the saloon. He was simply too cute with his hobby he knew so much about and his inebriating proximity to you. 

“It kinda was, before I realized that the world isn’t always supposed to be blurry and that I have a crippling fear of heights,” he responded, still focused on the device in front of him and not on you.

“Oh no! Are you serious?” you frowned. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to joke about something that-“

“Please don’t feel bad. You couldn’t have known. Besides, I still found a way to enjoy it,” he looked at you again, a soft twinkle in his eye despite discussing something that couldn’t have been pleasant to experience.

You took the headphone set off and softly set it back down on the table. 

“And if I never became a doctor, I never would’ve come to this town, or met you-or uh, any of the other great people here.”

Your expression softened. He was sitting so close to you, and all you wanted to do was reach out and touch his pink cheek before pulling him in for a-

“I’m glad you were still able to find work that was meaningful for you,” you looked at him and a strand of curled hair in his face that you desperately wanted to push back. “You know, I used to want to be a baker more than anything else in the world.”

“What happened?” Harvey asked, looking at you a little anxiously–although, you couldn’t be too sure that it wasn’t just his default expression. 

“Nothing too tragic. I just realized how unrealistic it all was. The good thing for me was that I was booksmart and liked to argue, so I had that to fall back on. I just settle for sending my friends a loaf of bread, or leaving anonymous cookies in the office every now and then.”

“I’m sure they appreciate that. I know I wouldn’t mind some surprise sourdough every now and then.”

“Next time I come to town, I’ll bring you some,” you promised. 

“If it’s not too much of a hassle, I would love that,” he smiled softly at you. Were you crazy, or had the two of you leaned in closer and closer since your conversation began?

You yawned, catching yourself by surprise. Running on the fuel of adrenaline that you got from being around the first man in a long time to make you feel anything, you hadn’t realized just how tired you were. 

“My offer still stands to walk you home,” Harvey reiterated before leaning back in his chair. 

“No, it’s okay. I’ll just sleep on one of the cots,” you insisted, though the thought of getting poor sleep on a stiff, sterilized cot seemed extraordinarily unappealing.

“They’re really uncomfortable,” he commented, looking down at his model planes and not at you. 

“I mean, if you want me to go home, I can go home,” you offered, though the rejection slightly stung, especially after the night the two of you just had. 

“No! I meant, you can sleep in my bed,” his eyes met yours, then were pulled back to the table. “If you’d like.”

“Oh!” your cheeks heated, as did the man across from you.

“I’m so sorry, I meant, you can have my bed. I’ll just sleep on my couch tonight.”

“Oh,” you laughed at the misunderstanding, though you certainly wouldn’t have minded sharing a bed with Harvey in any capacity. “Are you sure?”

“No worries at all.”

After declining an offer to borrow some of his pajamas (your heart could only handle so much in one evening), you settled in Harvey’s bed, impressed by how soft the mattress was. You were grateful that the lights were off and that he was on the other side of the room, as you wasted no time grabbing one of his pillows and inhaling deeply. Unsurprisingly, it smelled just like him, and it quickly lulled you right to sleep. 

In the morning, you woke up to the familiar scent of more coffee and the sound of your sister and Harvey conversing in the nearby kitchen. You sat up and rubbed the sleep out of your eyes, squinting as you looked into the room to confirm what you thought you’d heard and smelled. The two of them stood in the kitchen, alternating between washing dishes and sipping something from mugs. They must’ve had breakfast while you slept. 

“Morning, sleeping beauty,” your sister announced as soon as she caught sight of you and your bed-head. “You look like you slept well.”

“What can I say? This is a very comfortable mattress,” you leaned over the side of the bed to gather a few of your belongings. 

“Would you like to stay for breakfast? We made you a plate,” Harvey offered kindly. You felt your heart bang against your ribcage as you recalled your evening, and you worried that the organ might actually explode in your chest. 

“Thank you, but I’m not super hungry,” you threw your legs over the side of the bed and stood up with a slight urgency. “Well, thanks for letting us stay over, Harvey. We’ll see you tonight.”

“Harvey told me all about the night you two had,” your sister boasted, clearly trying to get you to admit to something that didn’t happen. 

This was a familiar song and dance to you. For the longest time, your younger sibling was a master at manipulation, getting you to confess to things you didn’t do to cover her ass or make her look better to your family. That was before you went to law school. Now, your days of being manipulated were far in the past.

“So he must’ve told you how his back hurt from sleeping on the couch last night,” you easily retorted, not falling for her antics. 

“You made him sleep on the couch? That’s cold. Even for you,” she sucked her teeth to emphasize her facetious disappointment in you. 

“He offered to sleep there, thank you very much,” you corrected, trying to ignore the creeping feeling of annoyance at the friendly interrogation. It had been so long since you felt anything real for someone romantically, and you didn’t want your connection to be reduced to just a punchline for your sister to tease you with.

“Are you kidding? Have you never picked up a romance novel? That’s when you’re supposed to offer that you share the bed anyway and wake up cuddling.”

“Do you hear yourself? My life is not a corny, pulp fiction romance novel.” At this point, your annoyance now began to fully boil over. Maybe it was misplaced anger at yourself for falling for someone so easily, or frustration over the antics your sister put you through the night prior. Regardless of the cause, the outcome was the same. 

“I’m starting to really question if you even like this guy,” If your sister caught on to your genuine annoyance, she clearly didn’t show it as she continued with her joke. “You shouldn’t lead him on. He’s a sensitive guy, you know?”

“Okay, seriously, enough. I don’t want to talk about this right now with you,” your tone was stern and serious, a far cry from the one your sibling equipped.

“Sorry,” she looked and sounded genuinely remorseful, with guilt quickly taking over her features. “I’m so hungover right now,” she deflected, as if that would absolve her of her sins. You’d never seen anything more encapsulating of her behavior as your younger sibling. 

“Do you remember me having to chase you down in the cold?” you asked, partially to shame her, partially to change the subject.

“Unfortunately, yes,” she kicked a pile of snow. “I’m sorry for that too.”

“It’s… it’s okay,” you sighed, figuring that maybe you reacted out of proportion for reasons unbeknownst to her. Usually, the two of you were fine with banter, even when it dealt with touchier subjects. “Just don’t let it happen again.”

You both knew you weren’t just referring to her whiskey-fueled shenanigans. 

“I won’t,” she promised, looking a little bit like the guilty kid who took an extra cookie out of the jar and blamed it on you all over again. “Happy Feast of the Winter Star?” she offered.

“Happy Feast of the Winter Star,” you replied, pulling her in for a side hug. You could never stay mad at her for too long–not when she made you take the fall for her bad behavior as children, and not when she poked fun at your love life now.

There was only so much tagging along with your sister as she made small talk with the people in her town that you could do before you found yourself feeling a terrible combination of awkward, uncomfortable, and unwelcome. Luckily for you, your sister picked up on this rather quickly and suggested that you take a seat where you’d be sitting for the actual feast.

You watched with envy as your sister mingled with the townspeople. It was never particularly pleasant to be singled out, but you would’ve preferred if you weren’t the only person easily labeled an outsider and excluded from the gathering. You wished you were back in your warm apartment, a cinnamon-scented candle wafting into the air as you decorated your tree and watched Winter Star movies from your peripheral vision. Instead, you were left feeling like the awkward, brace-faced girl you were in your adolescence. 

“Happy Feast of the Winter Star,” the words stated behind you caught your attention. After you turned, you were unsurprised to find the voice belonged to Harvey and that he had taken a seat next to you. 

“Happy Feast of the Winter Star to you, too,” you replied, hoping you didn’t sound as pleased as you truly were to see him.

“Did you come here alone?” he sounded genuinely concerned as he asked, as if the mere concept of you celebrating the holiday alone was unacceptable.

“No, my sister and I came together. She was just doing her rounds talking to everyone and I just needed a second to be on my own,” you explained, figuring if anyone would understand needing a break to recharge on your own, it would be Harvey.

“Oh, then I could leave, if you’d like,” he offered. Was he always this polite and considerate of everyone else’s feelings?”

“No, you’re perfectly fine,” you assured him. “It’s always nice chatting with you. Have you exchanged gifts with your person yet?”

“Yeah, Pierre got me a new stethoscope. This might be my fourth new, gifted stethoscope I’ve been gifted since moving here,” he lamented. “Sorry, not to sound ungrateful. Did you get anything?”

You frowned at Harvey’s words. You had an idea that the people in the town struggled to see him as anything other than the town's doctor, but having several separate people all get you the same stereotypical medical gift had to hurt. Distantly, you promised yourself that if you came back next year, you would get him a far better gift. 

“There’s nothing wrong with being disappointed about that,” you affirmed, reaching out to place what you hoped to be a comforting hand on his arm. “My sister and I are swapping gifts tonight. Do you have any idea who she got? She wouldn’t tell me. Not like I know anyone here.”

“I don’t know for sure, but I have my suspicions,” he pointedly looked over to where she was talking enthusiastically with Maru and a man who almost looked related to her. 

“Oh my,” you laughed aloud. “Do you think there’s anything going on with Maru and my sister? I mean, after last night I’m almost certain she has a thing for her. Are they seeing each other?” you questioned.

“I’ve been wondering the same thing. Not to be nosy, but it is a small town and people talk,” he leaned in slightly and lowered his voice as if someone might overhear and do the very same gossiping that the two of you were partaking in now. 

“Tell me more,” you matched his motion by leaning in, excited to finally have the information your sister was depriving you of. 

“Well, at first your sister came by all the time because she genuinely needed medical assistance. I don’t mean to freak you out or anything, but she spent a lot of her first year here passing out. Sometimes from exhaustion, sometimes from fighting things off in the mines. I mean, she pays the clinic more than probably everyone else in this town combined.”

“Seriously? What could she possibly be doing?”

“She’s never told me. Maybe she’s told Maru? That’s the thing. She started coming for medical assistance, then I wasn’t sure if she was getting hurt on purpose just to see Maru. Whenever they’re together it’s all laughs and smiles. You know, one time she woke up after being in the mines, saw me, then asked where Maru was. When I said she had the day off, she declared she was fine and left.”

“Wow. I want to be shocked, but knowing her, it doesn’t seem all that far fetched,” you pulled your gaze away from the two of them to look back at Harvey. “So are they together?”

“I couldn’t tell you. Every time I bring it up to either of them, it’s like they’ve taken an oath of silence.”

“So what’s your diagnosis, Doctor? If you had to guess.”

“If I had to guess? Based on the serious, grade A yearning I’ve observed and the sheer amount of flirting they do in the clinic, I would say they are absolutely lovesick. I’ve never seen two people more infatuated with each other and in denial about it.”

“Hmm…” you hummed as you thought. “I guess I’m glad that she’s got friends here. I’m less glad that her social skills haven’t improved since she was a middle schooler.” you paused once more. “What if we set them up together?”

The words you’d said to your sister the last time you came to visit reverberated in your head. Something about not interfering with each other’s love lives anymore. A counterargument immediately came to mind–your sister already forfeited this agreement when she decided to pull that little stunt at the Saloon. Not that you were particularly mad at it, but the game seemed to already be afoot. It was only fair that you got to play, too. 

“I mean, a friendly nudge couldn’t hurt…” he trailed off. 

“And that’s really all they need,” you agreed. “I would love to help you with this operation, but I don’t see me being very useful with this while I’m in the city.”

Harvey thought for a moment, then seemingly hesitated before he spoke. “Why don’t we exchange numbers? That way we can brainstorm and I can keep you updated if I find anything else out about their status.”

You couldn’t exactly say that was what you were expecting to hear from him, but you certainly couldn’t say that you were mad about his offer either. In fact, getting his number was probably one of the best outcomes you could’ve hoped to accomplish the entire trip–outside of bonding and spending quality time with your sibling. 

You took his device and entered your contact information, feeling like you were on a cloud higher than cloud nine.  

For the rest of the feast, you couldn’t wipe the grin off your face. You could chalk it up to the collective joy of the community as a young girl set the star-shaped topper on the tree, or the laughter that bounced around the table throughout the meal, but deep down, you knew what it really was. For so long, you’d been happy with your life, but missing and craving one thing—and you finally felt like you had some semblance of a shot at getting it. 

Despite all the less-than-ideal temperatures and the histrionics of your sister after a few drinks, you found that you weren’t so mad that you came to spend the holiday in Stardew Valley after all.

[ginnyw-potter]

Do you consider yourself a Harry Potter fan? Ginny Weasley was a fan of him as a child, just because he's a character from books. Ginny wants this character for herself and continues to "never give up on dreaming about him." It's a pitiful sight, as she hasn't overcome her childish behavior. There is not a single example where it would be shown that Ginny loves Harry just like that. And you know what?! After everything Harry's been through, he needs a normal family of his own, which Ginny definitely can't give. Ginny is absolutely not kind. She calmly insults, ridicules, and physically beats people. Ginny is "understanding" only when it suits her. So you're Harry's biggest hater if you want Ginny Weasley for his wife. Ginny wouldn't even have looked at Harry if Harry wasn't Harry Potter, a hero.

Ginny Weasley sucks

hahah anon I turned my anon asks back on less than a day ago. I must occupy so much space in that brain of yours

I hope you heal from whatever ails you, anon.

Ginny's first meeting him she has heard tales of him for years and she's a curious kid! She just wants to meet him on the train. We don't know if there were literaly books about Harry, but she grows up with hearing of him. Not only through tales, but perhaps also through hushed voices by her parents, talking about a couple younger than them who had a kids the age of Ron who tragically died and leaving the boy to go to muggles.

Harry is a mystery to her and one she never hears the full story about because she's too young and her brothers would never tell her the details they find out. She is curious.

Harry watches her run after the train when it leaves. He is paying attention to her. He is the one running after the train to wave off his own kids in the epilogue. it's a full-circle moment.

Then she heard Ron talk about Harry all through summer and finds out he is every bit the boy he is said to be and brave. but he is still a mystery, who is suddenly in her kitchen?? Yeah she gets a little spooked. and then that nervousness builds up to the point that talking to him becomes hard and he gets put on an even bigger pedestal.

And you can hardly take him off that pedestal when he saves you from Voldemort and kills a basilisk.

After that point they start to gradually get to know each other because Harry stays at the Burrow etc. This is the point where she gets to actually know him more until they start dating She stops liking him for being famous and starts seeing all the wonderful sides of him.

They share the same values, humour and interests. They're both snarky. When Percy walks with his chest out to show off his badge while talking to (I believe it was) Penelope, they look at each other because they both think he's being ridiculous and need to hide their laughs. They don't even have to speak and they're not even close friends then but they laugh together.

I'm not sure where you got that Ginny isn't kind? While she appears to have many friends, she is often seen with people like Luna and Neville who are kind of seen as underdogs. Yes, she calls Luna Loony once, but everyone was doing it. They become friends and they're close. Ginny lost her brother at the Battle of Hogwarts and she doesn't stop helping, she goes out on the grounds (while Harry has been asked to sacrifice himself, which she also has to cope with) to get wounded people inside and is seen comforting a girl who doesn't want to fight anymore.

Ginny continues the DA together with Neville and Luna to protect the younger students and continues to speak up.

We never see her physically beating people? You know who is always ready to fight? Ron, who will absolutely throw down his wand to pummel someone. You know who actually punches Draco? Hermione.

We see Ginny use a bat-bogey hex twice. Once in the Department of Mysteries, against literal death eaters. The other time she uses it on Zacharias Smith, who is canonically just a little annoying. He was being nosy and trying to find out all the gossip about the battle in the Department of Mysteries and Ginny puts a stop to it.

She has the same amount of snark as Harry does, that's why it works out. Harry is never going to be normal and he knows that. what he needs is someone who isn't scared by him and his story. Ginny is the only other person he knows that has been possessed by Voldemort and the only person who dares to speak up to him when he gets in a mood.

He is not weak, he doesn't need someone who babies him. Ginny is gentle and kind, but also strong and firm when she needs to be. Someone who balances him out.

Most of all, that man needs to have someone where he feels safe and who is a comfort to him.

Remind me again, I'm suddenly a bit fuzzy on the details... who is said to be Harry's greatest source of comfort? I'm sure it'll come to me in a minute...

[babyrdie]

Oh! I think so!

In the Greek Anthology there is text in which she sees the destruction that Phyrrus caused as a kind of revenge for the death of Achilles:

Thou hast made to cease all the heavy woe of my heart for the fate of thy father Achilles, whom mournful Troy slew. To the Greeks who were eager for it thou hast given the undying glory which the ten years of war could not accomplish for the whole host of the Danai.

Translation by William Roger Paton.

It makes the idea in Pseudo-Apollodorus of her marrying Helenus even more intriguing…what is it like for her to see a direct victim of a destruction she celebrated? Troy to her for a long time was just this foreign land that kept taking things from her. First who was supposed to be her husband, then her son. She was removed from that, Skyros was an island that had no involvement in the war in most versions. A princess isolated on an island who keeps losing loved ones to the idea of ​​glory promised in Troy…it's easy for her to blame Troy. But Helenus isn't Troy, Helenus is Helenus. Nor is Andromache Troy, she is Andromache. Married to Helenus and seeing Andromache return, I think it's impossible that she didn't eventually realize that Troy isn't just an idea, it's made up of people. People who were destroyed by Achilles and Neoptolemus, people whose destruction she was relieved about because it meant Phyrrus wasn't at risk.

Furthermore, in the lost play The Skyrians by Euripides, Deidamia has no mother because her mother died:

Skyrians, which begins, ‘O daughter of Tyndareus from Sparta…; the plot is as follows: Thetis, having learned of (the destiny) of her son Achilles, wanted (to keep) him out of the expedition (against Troy), and so (she concealed) him in a girl’s clothing (and deposited him) with Lycomedes the (ruler) of the Scyrians. Lycomedes was raising (a daughter) named (Deidameia) whose mother had died, and he brought (Achilles) up as a girl together with her, his real identity being unrecognized; and Achilles… seduced Deidameia and made her pregnant. Agamemnon and his comrades (were told) by an oracle not (to make their expedition) without Achilles…Diomedes…(they,) learning…

In other words, she had already lost someone before Achilles. Achilles was the second loss, she feared that Neoptolemus would be the third. She didn't have a mother to accompany her in the transition from girl to woman, she didn't have a husband she could count on, and in the end she might have become childless too. I think she might be very scared. In some visual depictions, Deidamia grabs Achilles to prevent him from going to war. In Philostratus and Quintus Smyrnaeus, Deidamia actively tries to prevent Phyrrus from going to war. Deidamia tries and tries, and she can never hold them back. In that sense, she's kind of like Thetis, fighting to keep alive those who are willing to die if it means glory.

So yeah…I imagine Deidamia had a strange relationship with Troy and what that meant for her and her family. Initially, it was a place she had no interest in. She only had sisters, she didn't have a brother! And so none of the royals of Skyros were suitors for Helen, so Skyros wouldn't have to care about the suitors meeting. But then Achilles is in Skyros and she cares about Achilles. And Achilles may not have been a suitor, but he was wanted because of the prophecy. And then he's gone and Troy, which was nothing before, is now the place that took away the one who was supposed to be her husband. And he dies, so Troy is DEFINITELY the place that took Achilles away. Then Phyrrus goes to Troy in and it's like Troy wants to rip her son away too. But the son returns alive, so Deidamia can celebrate. She can take comfort in the idea that she won't lose the one she loves anymore. But hey, she's married to a Trojan now, Neoptolemus gave her to him. And if she learned to love Helenus…how can she celebrate that Troy is destroyed? Phyrrus, her dear son, isn't even Phyrrus anymore. His name is Neoptolemus now. He used to play with the shepherds' children, but now he returns victorious with Helenus and Andromache enslaved and a look no young man should have. Did she really celebrate Phyrrus' return? Phyrrus no longer exists. And if Pyrrha doesn't exist, who guarantees that "Pyrrha" existed when Achilles died?

And then there is no more comfort in Troy no more existing. There is no comfort because Achilles was no longer Phyrra, he was no longer that boy who played the lyre for her and complained about hurting his finger while trying to spin and weave. He was someone worthy of being called "the best of the Achaeans," a sacker of cities. And Phyrrus didn't return, it was Neoptolemus who returned. And Neoptolemus is no longer the son of Deidamia, he is the son of Achilles. Not the Achilles that Deidamia knew, but the Achilles that Troy knew. And the Achilles that Troy knew… is the Achilles that Deidamia desperately tried to keep from existing by begging him to stay in Skyros.

Now the destruction of Troy brings no comfort. And now, looking at Helenus and Andromache it brings only guilt. It wasn't she who set out to destroy Troy, but it was she who celebrated its destruction. She celebrated the misfortune of the people who would become her new family. A family she would never have had if Troy hadn't been destroyed because then none of them would need to be in Epirus.

Deidamia has SO much potential.

Deidamia has so much angst potential

Yes, she does!

Deidamia was just a girl who was most likely sheltered, considering her father only had daughters. Her mother is never present in the myths, I wouldn't be surprised if her mother was either dead or not a present figure. She probably spent her days without many worries, having a princess education and then spending the day having fun with her sisters (as, for example, Philostratus describes). And then she had feelings for this new girl Phyrra, and she probably felt horrible about it because it was definitely not well regarded (something similar to the poem attributed to Bion of Smyrna). But the girl wasn't even a girl, and so Deidamia was in love with someone she didn't really know as much as she thought she did. And they were two very young people without proper supervision and now she's pregnant (Deidamia even took a while to realize this in Euripides' version), but she's just a girl and this child isn't even a child of the marriage. And now she's being forced to grow up fast, because she has to be the mother of this unplanned child. And not only that, but the father is leaving because glory is more important to him than her or their child. Achilles will become a man through the glory of war, she will become a woman through motherhood. And they're trapped in these gender roles and they will never see each other again because his destiny is to die in Troy.

She raises this child as a single mother, although at least she has support (father, sisters, maybe Thetis). We never really get her point of view…how is she viewed because of this? In some versions, Achilles marries her, but in others he doesn't. How is she viewed because she's a princess who got pregnant before marriage by a boy who didn't even marry her and who will never come back? At first, did people even believe the story that the father was the famous prophesied son of a goddess? Phyrrus is so sweet, playing with the shepherds' children, having fun with his innocent toys and he will never be like his father, a boy who gave up the opportunity of a home for the opportunity of war (inspired by Philostratus and Quintus of Smyrna). But then the news that Achilles has died comes and Deidamia is mourning, but she is mourning a person she hasn't seen in years. A person she last saw as a boy, who now that he is dead is a man. Maybe her memories of him don't even match up with what he is like now, but she will never get to know that. She doesn't even have much time to mourn, because soon the same men who took Achilles are demanding her son. They took the man who was supposed to be her husband, and now they're taking her son. And no matter how much she or Lycomedes try to stop them, Phyrrus is too seduced by following the ghost of a father he never knew and who his mother probably doesn't even know anymore. And then her son goes away, and perhaps like his father he will not return. Like his father he will die young in a foreign land because the seductive glow of glory has taken over his senses.

But he doesn't die in a foreign land like his father, he is alive. But he isn't Phyrrus, he is Neoptolemus. He is no longer the child who played with toys and shepherds' children, he is the person who chased the elderly king of Troy into a temple of Zeus and killed him without mercy or respect for the gods. He is alive, yes, but Deidamia doesn't really have her son back. And so either we don't know Deidamia's fate or, as in Pseudo-Apollodorus' version, she is married to Helenus. She is then married to this man whose home was destroyed by both Achilles and Neoptolemus. And maybe she loves Helenus, but she also loves Achilles and Neoptolemus. And how can she deal with that? How can she love Achilles and still mourn him, if the person who was in Skyros no longer has the personality of the person who died in Troy? How can she be happy that her little boy has returned, if he is not even her little boy anymore? At least, not in personality. And how can she rejoice that Neoptolemus is alive, if for that Helenus had to lose his home and the people he loved?

And then Neoptolemus is dead, and she is sad. At the same time, she cannot want Helenus to share this grief. He has a right not to feel this way. And Andromache arrives in Epirus and Deidamia has to face directly the consequences of what Neoptolemus did, while thinking about how Achilles must have done similar things. And Andromache and Helenus have a connection that Deidamia will never understand, she can never truly know what it's like to be in their situation. She can only learn to face the fact that you loving someone doesn't make them inherently good to others. Helenus is taken by the presence of Apollo when he prophesies and she just has to learn to deal with the presence of this god, the same god who killed her son and her son's father. But, having lived with Helenus and Andromache, can she really find their deaths entirely unjust? She's still sad, of course, but can she really throw her hands up to the heavens and scream that it's injustice?

In a way, I think Deidamia is a good representation of what it was like to be a woman, although it is more specifically the reality of a princess. She has to deal with being an innocent girl, she has to deal with thinking about the possibility of liking another girl, she has to deal with the idea of ​​sneaking around with a boy, she has to deal with an unplanned pregnancy, she has to deal with being abandoned by the man who was supposed to be her husband, she has to raise her son without a husband while constantly thinking that her son's father is going to die, she has to find out that her son's father really is dead, she has to watch her son go to the same fate, she has to deal with the anxiety that he doesn't come back, she has to deal with the relief of seeing her son again and the loss of him not being the same anymore, she has to deal with the consequences of the actions of the men she loves on the lives of other people she has grown to love. And most of this happens while she is on the island, looking at the sea and thinking that this is the same sea that Achilles and Neoptolemus set out on for a distant land. At least, that's how I interpret her situation.

She has SO much potential, but people ignore her potential. Most of the time, Deidamia is just used to say something about Achilles and Patroclus' relationship. It's really sad.