#how connor fell

[azurescaled-archived]

"Hm. Guess it ain't always bad havin' time away from places."

[ranger-danger]

Did they actually make the kid in Detroit become human be an android. I feel like that destroys a major point of the story.

[euphoria-looney]

Who Said Money Can't Buy Happiness?

"I want that new money. Crisp money, Straight-from-the-mint money. Fresh money. Young money. Push against the tide~" New Money from the Great Gatsby.

Yan?Batfam x Neglected!F!Reader

Pt. 1

Divider Creds: @selysie and @anitalenia

This plot was inspired by @niwaart and @mimiiiiiiiiisstuff

You know I've never pegged myself as the type to be too careless and get hit by a truck, because I'm not, that truck rammed into me and I was on the sidewalk, so, if I wake up, I'm suing.

That's what I thought would happen if I woke up in my world. newsflash, and spoilers, I seemed to wake up in this cliche bat family story as the neglected girl. This is actually the story "I Stole the Loving Family of the Villainess."

We follow around a girl named Serena, a cute name, by the way. It fits her as the female lead. She has blond hair and blue eyes, and multiple love interests, from Connor Kent to Wally West, and so on. She is adopted by the royal family, the Waynes.

And do you see this cute portrait with her in the middle brothers to the left, sisters to the right, parents on each side of her, oh and how can I forget even the main bulter, and can you see that small blot of paint, if you squit a little more. Ah- there I am.

That blot of paint- that's me.

While I'm monologing this I'm PUSHING SERENA DOWN THE STAIRS.

You know you can't help but feel bad for me like I'm the legitimate daughter and I get nothing.

Yes, you hear this my bitches, bros, and non-binary hoes. I'm the Villainess. If you guys spent less time fondling over the basic y/n of a female lead you realize how miserable [name] is as a character.

Her mom is too busy caring for her other siblings that she finds it too bothersome to deal with the least talented or least intelligent that goes for Alfred too because, in this story, we're royalty meaning more than one maid and butler, so why waste your time when you can have someone else do it.

Doesn't help that [name] has ears so she hears every mocking word that is uttered by her servants.

And of course, the main family does not give a pinky toe if she dies so that's so cool.

So [name] being a cliche Villainess is exactly stupid and untalented but all she wanted was her family's love and affection which is why she kept sabotaging Serena, which led her to her death.

Getting her memories suck, I mean my ego that was skyrocketing got hit with a pebble which is not a lot but that's because my ego is huge, this girl put herself down so much that I swear if her self-esteem was a rock she'd be crushed by now.

I mean the size of her self-esteem was so low it would be the opposite of my ego.

I mean how can it not be high? I'm rich, pretty, intelligent, and I've had diplomas in more than one field, Mary Sue? More like Barbie. I'm perfect, in more ways than one, except for relationships I've lacked in that department but I've never had one before so does that count? No.

Did I mention I was rich?

So anyway got her memories, it's so... tragic, but don't worry snookums because even in this life there's one defining trait that I still have, I'm rich. Okay, so not rich out of my pocket, I am a princess umkay, but I wasn't a woman in multiple men's fields for nothing.

Anyway back to the case in point, before I "woke" up [name] was having an impulse, her hands were itching to shove this one good orphaned girl that stole her place in the family, what timing do I have to come back right when [name] decided to take action on the impulse.

Hey, at least a perk of being the main character is that you don't take any damage whether that be physically inside or out. But I don't think the family will let it slide they are yanderes.

Yandere is a term for a character who is initially normal but soon develops an obsessive-compulsive grip on the person they like.

"I-I don't know one second I was walking down the stairs and the next I f-fell... but the only person behind me was [n-name]" Serena whimpered, ah- yes the struggles of a female lead the stuttering.

"[name] I can't believe you shoved Serena! This is-" Meet Palmola, my mother.

"So what?"

"Huh?" Palmola's eyes widened.

No in fact the whole family's eyes were in shock.

Since [name] would always make some batshit crazy excuse like the ghost of Grandpa pushed her or something. But why lie, I did shove her, for a good reason too.

"She walks so slow and sloppy, does she have any etiquette? I hope she would, with the amount of time she likes to spend with you Palmola. Fast, efficient, but proper. You did drill that into my head since I was young, didn't you? You even got mad when I did it wrong, is it so wrong I treat her like how I was treated?"

"Young lady-!"

"We'll discipline her later, Serena are you alright? Here take my arm sweetheart." Bruce let Serena wrap her arm around his.

The siblings paired up with each other, and Palmola took one of her son's arms. Leaving me with no one. A normal occurrence, at first it did numbers in the social circles, and still does, so each time I was left embarrassed. How annoying.

"Announcing the Imperial Family, the Gotham Empire, The Waynes."

Everyone flocked to each of the family but mainly focused their attention on Serena, whether it be her face, jewelry, dress, or how sweet she was compared to me.

"Announcing the Imperial Family, the Metro Empire, The Kents." Meet two of the love interests that right she goes for the big brother and the little brother, originally I'm engaged to Connor, but tonight that would change, the engagement is getting annulled, and his reason to the court is "I have set my eyes on someone new, and with many competitors, I can't lose."

It wasn't hard for anyone to know who it was, I think the only one that didn't notice was Serena herself.

Actually, this was a huge arc in the story when all the love interests fight for her love, there was no victor as she did the poly relationship, which really confuses me doesn't she need to make many offspring for each of the families respectable titles, you can't just combine into one entire thing, can you? That be very messy, I guess you could just give away titles but then who gets-

Anyway, that had a lot of readers mad, usually the whychoose situation would be okay, but she mainly focused on Conner so there was actually no reason to choose this route.

Never mind, that's a conversation for another day that I'll just forget.

Connor approaches me grabbing both my hands, attracting attention.

"[name] there's something I have to confess..."

"You're breaking off the engagement"

"I'm breaking- wait what?"

"You've found someone new, that has many competitors and you can't lose a battle you haven't even tried winning, I get it. But I'd like a downpayment of 10,000 gold and you can give the 490,000 gold later to my personal account and we call it even. Deal?" Hustling, though it's a 50/50 shot with many deals with enough eyes on us I'm sure he'll give in.

"S-sure, right. Right- I'll get that to you immediately-" I gave his hand a firm shake before heading off to the...

If you guessed balcony you're wrong, I'm heading over to the food table.

"Did just see what happened?"

"Is she planning something?"

"500,000 gold?!"

"Sister, what are you planning?" Barbara came over.

Also, who calls their sibling sister, like sure, that works.

"What do you mean?"

"That marriage was meant to connect our kingdoms, you'd let that go so easily, and we both know your gaze on Connor, what are you planning." She spoke through her fan, in a hushed voice.

If I made a scene as to not let him go I'd be embarrassing you guys, but if I show that I'm okay with him leaving me I'm ruining a political standing that wouldn't even work out, I'd still do something wrong.

"Have some decorum sister, we haven't had a proper conversation in years, and this is the first thing you say to me? Typical Barbara you think you know everything since you're older and more "mature""

You could tell Barbara didn't take that lightly as she gripped the fan handle tightly, I literally didn't even do anything.

"I'll spare you from any more veins popping up on that face, don't be an ass, we both knew Connor is in love with Serena and that me begging him not to break the engagement would only bring shame onto our family, so I did us both a favor and ended it." I tossed my hair back before grabbing some croissants that were covered in chocolate, powdered sugar, and some strawberries.

Life really is great.

"What about the scandal that would break out."

"Again, it would break out either way, now do me a favor and go back to your group they're staring at me and it's ruining the snack that I have on my plate."

She let out a deep breath before heading off.

Speaking of which I'd rather have a place to place my food and eat it, pretty sure there's a table in the garden under the gazebo if I remember correctly and I don't but whatever.

Just to find a moping Jon.

"Should you be out here?"

"It's unfair once again he gets to have everything"

Oh? Do tell.

I raised an eyebrow at him cutting my croissant in half before placing a half in front of him.

He finally looks up his face turned shocked like I was a ghost or something.

"[name]?!"

I bit into my croissant, nodding.

"Why'd you have to go and break off the engagement, now I have Connor as competition."

I knew this happened in the novel but I just remembered how young he was he's around Damian's age and I'm about the same age as Serena so this was a cry for help.

"Why do you even like Serena?"

"I don't really, it's just... I wanted something that he couldn't obtain he was going to be the first in line, and he's just better than me in lots of things because he has training so I thought, at least I had Serena."

Sometimes I forget that back then age gaps had no restrictions.

"That just means fewer responsibilities anyway, aren't you a little too young to be worrying about any of that? Now, I brought over this croissant but since I'm nice I gave you half." I ruffled his hair and he tried to swipe it away.

"I guess you're right." He started gobbling the desert down.

Honestly, I don't even know why this was a love interest he's literally a minor, maybe that's why the author got backlash against that and the novel was an overall dumpster fire with a basic self-insert MC.

I don't know what's worse the fact that they kept dragging on the storyline or the fact that I'm now in the storyline.

I mean seriously he only liked her because of the plot, he got over this situation so quickly that you wouldn't even know why he was moping earlier.

-

Now back to the circumstance at hand I was at home and seems the family never forgot about me shoving Serena down the stairs, they almost forgot about me breaking off the engagement.

"... what if she got a scratch on her face? Or if the clothes ripped?! Are you listening to me?!" I zoned out for a good second.

See we had gone back to the castle and they kept rambling on and on about what could've happened to Serena had the fall been more steep or rough, but like does she even have even status to attend these events in the first place?

"Since you seem to not care about this we're cutting you off of money for the next month!" She hollered in my ear once more.

"What were you thinking at the ball?" Tim cut into Palmola's ramblings.

"Normalize giving contexts, Tim." He scoffed.

"I was sparring with Kon the other day and he made some bogus statement saying he was breaking off the engagement, I didn't think he would do it, but allowing him to? Have you any idea what this caused?"

"Who am I to stop Crown Prince Connor, Tim? He has a woman to chase, and wasn't going to give it up for this contracted engagement." I glanced at Serena who flinched and hid behind Jason.

"I still doubt that you'd let him go that easily, you've been obsessed with him since you laid eyes on him."

"And you know that because you're my caring younger brother or because you like to throw it in my face on the downfalls of my life?"

"[name]!" Palmola scolded me.

Bruce could only sigh at the scene.

"Palmola!" I retorted, bringing a tense atmosphere to occur.

Alfred arrived at the scene handing me a letter.

"To you, Princess [name]." I opened it to see the rest of the money that Connor promised me had been added to my account even with the 10,000.

I'm rich, but this is just the start.

"If that's all I'll be heading back to my room." I tossed my hair back before ordering the maids to prepare my bath.

"You're taking too long," I told the maids who were congregating among themselves instead of doing their jobs.

"Well, usually, Princ- I mean Lady Serena wouldn't mind-"

"Do I look like her?" I gripped the maid's chin.

"Don't worry, since it bothers you so much to draw me a bath you can pack your things up and leave tomorrow, you're fired." I pushed back my hair in agitation.

"What-"

"Did you not hear me, you're fired, don't make too much noise, go on." I shooed her away.

She just dropped to her knees and started begging me, but I made the other maids drag her out now all of a sudden they wanted to switch up and act proper.

"Now, with that out of the way, someone draw my bath." I rolled my eyes.

I do not condone maid abuse, but what's the point of working here if you don't do your job? So firing is the only option.

3RD POV

"That girl- I swear I don't know where she got that attitude from, did you see the way she talked to me?!" Palmola scoffed.

Duke could only think about how [name] seemed different actually the whole family could be thinking about that.

Damian kept stroking Titus' fur while thinking about how [name] didn't just keep her head down and take his insults. Wait- now that he phrases it like that, it sounds really bad.

Tim just thought about his friend Connor, he had been the one that Connor ranted to about how annoying his sister was but he didn't think [name] would take the cancelation of the engagement that easily, he thought [name] would least throw a tantrum at best. And since earlier he noticed how [name] looked at them at the stairway after. [name] looked at them like they were lower than her.

Dick was processing the whole thing, did [name] always talk like she didn't care for their approval? I mean [name] spoke like this could've been a letter delivered to her door instead of an important conversation. This conversation was important, [name] hurt Serena and canceled a political connection of a lifetime, he could feel a headache approaching.

Jason could only blink at the audacity, sometimes when this happened [name] at least looked like she gave a darn but not only was she okay with that Connor boy leaving her, but also being cut off [name] would at least beg for some forgiveness. But nothing...?

Stephanie would've had a jaw-dropping expression right now, but had her fan covering her mouth, holy lord did that really just happen? I mean [name] did not even try to bother her at the ball but she also gave up the man she bothered until her final breath and 500,000 gold?! That's an insane amount one and two when did [name] learn to negotiate?

Cassandra felt confused about what had just gone down, did she hear that right? That whole thing, just what occurred? [name] changed in two seconds, like she blinked, Serena tumbled down the stairs and then she just acted strange.

(What you're sticking up for yourself? That's criminally insane right there.)

Barbara had already dealt with how [name] did a 180 at the ball but she just thought that was because she thought she had a wedgy at the moment, though in general [name] had never done this so what happened this time?

Bruce well who knows what he's thinking he just looks constipated like isn't supposed to be saving Gotham in another life?/j

Bruce sat there, he didn't raise [name] like that, wait-. He didn't raise [name] at all... Is this his fault that [name] was acting out right now? No, he's been busy and with all the duty of the empire on his hands he couldn't pause it for [name], like yes, he does that for Serena sometimes- all the time but that's different she had a hard childhood growing up.

Serena, well, she gritted her teeth and clenched her fist. For the first time, something didn't go her way. And what was that attitude, who did [name] think she was? She shouldn't even act like that, at this point, everyone knows she's supposed to be in her position. I mean look at her.

So it's time to be the center of attention. Wouldn't you think?

Serena let out a few sniffles catching the attention.

"It's all my fault that she's in a bad mood, I'm sorry."

The family quickly came to comfort her. Never mind what they were thinking before, how could [name] be such a child in this situation?

After taking a nice bath and sneezing I was now changed into my nightgown. These things are nice.

I took [name]'s diary, so was not thinking, writing down her devious plans here, one of the reasons she was caught and executed, and she couldn't rebut it as they had proof.

So I'll do us both a favor and burn it.

Tossed into the flame I could only stare at the burning journal.

Another burning pile.

I should sleep I have a lot of plans tomorrow, and only a few months till school starts.

With a flick of my wrist, the candles blew out and the doors shut.

One perk about this world is the powers.

(H2O just add water)

So instead of actually writing the next part for any other series of mine I decided to make a new writing idea 🌝, I'm also making others in my brain as we speak but we're going to keep them there until I finish at least one of my series.

Anyway did you like it?

I'm going back to work now (writing), *le sigh*.

Happy early Lunar New Year though, I'm manifesting a lot of red envelopes to myself and many others!

If there's anything too cringy, plot holey, or grammatically wrong, do inform me!

[isaadore]

YOURS TO KEEP CONNOR BEDARD

‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ pairing connor bedard x reader

SUMMARY connor has always kept his personal life private, but during a blackhawks family skate, he surprises his teammates and the media by introducing you as his girlfriend. word count 0.9k

warnings fem!reader, use of y/n, fluff, established relationship, teasing

note requested by anon <3 i'm sorry i made connor seem so tall; he definitely isn't… (he's only two inches taller than me)

CB98 MASTERLIST MAIN MASTERLIST

CONNER WASN’T ONE to draw attention to himself off the ice. He kept his head down, focused on hockey, and left the spotlight to the bigger personalities. It’s not that he was hiding anything—okay, maybe one thing.

You.

You’d been together for years, long enough that Connor’s rookie season with the Blackhawks wasn’t your first brush with the hockey world. But he had always kept your relationship private. There were no Instagram posts, no public outings, and no “soft launches.” He didn’t see the point in inviting unnecessary attention.

Then, out of the blue, he brought it up over takeout one night.

“So, there’s this family skate coming up,” he said casually, too casually, as if he hadn’t been rehearsing the line for days.

“Okay…” you said, raising an eyebrow as you speared a piece of broccoli with your fork.

“I was thinking, maybe you’d want to come?” He said it so fast that it almost sounded like one word.

You froze, mid-chew. “Wait, are you serious? You want me to meet your teammates?”

He shrugged, trying—and failing—to look unbothered. “I mean, yeah. It’s no big deal.”

You stared at him, a slow smile spreading across your face. “Are you blushing?”

“Just forget it,” he mumbled, looking anywhere but at you.

“Hey, no! I want to go,” you said quickly, reaching across the table to grab his hand. “I just… I didn’t think you’d want me to.”

“I do,” he said, quieter now. “I want you there.”

A few days later, you found yourself at the United Center, lacing up your skates while Connor hovered nearby. He was fidgeting with his gloves, glancing toward the ice, then back at you.

“Are you nervous?” you asked, half-laughing as you tightened your laces.

“No,” he said immediately, then paused. “Maybe. I just… I don’t do this stuff.”

“Connor, it’s a family skate, not a press conference.”

He huffed a laugh but didn’t look convinced.

The second you stepped onto the ice, Connor was right there, his hand in yours, steadying you. It was sweet how he acted like you might fall at any moment, even though you’d skated plenty of times with him before.

“You good?” he asked, glancing down at you.

“Yeah,” you said, smiling up at him. “Are you?”

Before he could answer, you caught movement out of the corner of your eye. A group of his teammates was gathered near the bench, and they were definitely watching.

“Wait a minute,” Lukas said, his eyebrows pulling together as he looked between the two of you. “Who’s this?”

Connor stiffened, his fingers tightening slightly around yours, but he didn’t let go.

“This is… uh, this is my girlfriend, Y/N,” he said, his voice steady despite the blush creeping up his neck.

The group fell silent for half a second, then erupted all at once.

“Shut up.”

“No way.”

“You’ve been hiding her this whole time?”

Taylor skated closer, eyeing Connor with disbelief. “You’ve been holding out on us, man. How long has this been a thing?”

Connor shifted awkwardly, his free hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. “A while.”

“A while?” Alex said, his mouth falling open. “That’s all you’re giving us?” He turned to you, a teasing grin spreading across his face. “How do you put up with him? He’s, like, the least talkative guy on the planet.”

You laughed, shooting Connor a playful look. “He’s not so bad. When he talks, it’s usually worth listening to.”

A few of the guys laughed at that, while Connor just muttered, “Real funny,” under his breath, though he couldn’t quite hide the hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

By the time the group had mostly dispersed, Connor was still at your side, his hand brushing against yours every so often, as if he needed the reassurance.

At the end of the skate, the team gathered at centre ice for a group photo. The team photographer directed everyone into position, and Connor stood with you off to the side, watching.

“C’mon, Bedard!” Lukas called out. “Bring her in, too. It’s a family skate, isn’t it?”

Connor hesitated, glancing at you. “You okay with that?”

You nodded, smiling. “Of course.”

Without another word, he led you into the group, sliding his arm around your waist as you both smiled for the camera. It felt natural, like you belonged there.

The photo was shared on the team’s Instagram later that evening, captioned: Family Skate Day ❤️

Almost immediately, fans noticed the small detail that sent the internet into overdrive: Connor Bedard, standing with his arm around a girl.

The comments section exploded.

user01 WAIT WHAT

user02 who’s the girl next to bedard??

user03 No idea but it should be me

user04 user03 preach

user05 wake up this is not a drill connor has a gf 💔

user06 Oh my day is ruined

user07 talk about a hard launch

user08 she’s so pretty stoppp

Connor didn’t notice the post until his phone buzzed with a flurry of notifications. He frowned, pulling it out of his pocket.

“Uh,” he said, staring at the screen. “I think the team might’ve… posted something.”

You leaned over to see, a soft laugh escaping as you read the caption. “Clearly.”

Connor sighed, sliding his phone back into his pocket. “This is why I don’t do social media.”

You reached for his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Hey, it’s not so bad. They’re just happy for you—for us.”

He looked at you, his expression softening. “As long as you’re okay with it.”

You smiled. “I am. Are you?”

Connor hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah,” he said, his voice soft. “Better than okay.”

‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ CB98 MASTERLIST ✷ MAIN MASTERLIST

[solelifauna]

Definitely NOT Invincible (Yandere Invincible & Reader)

Pt.4

Where (Y/n) becomes an A to C student. It's not her fault tho! Blame it on the trauma.

ALSO, THANK YOU TO @oof-spoof FOR PRACTICALLY FUNDING THE INVINCIBLE SERIES!!! EVERYONE GIVE THEM SOME LOVE!!!

Mark grabbed the keys, sliding into the driver’s seat without a word, and you followed suit, exhaustion settling deep into your bones as you slumped into the passenger seat. As you buckled your seatbelt, he turned the ignition, the radio flicking on as he scrolled through channels until he landed on the familiar one, 96.5. The quiet drive began, with Mark’s fingers tapping lightly on the steering wheel in time with the music, a rhythm that seemed at odds with the tense atmosphere filling the car.

You stared out the window, letting the passing scenery blur before you. Houses and shops you once thought would stand forever flew past, their vibrant facades a painful reminder of all you’d lose in the next five months. This town, this life—it was doomed.

Mark’s fingers slowed, and his eyes flicked toward you, his voice slipping in smoothly through the silence. “You seem a bit… off,” he said, his tone deceptively casual. “Stayed up late or something?”

You forced yourself to meet his gaze, masking the churn of emotions beneath a neutral expression. “Just tired,” you replied shortly, hoping that would be enough.

He gave a low hum, a hint of amusement lacing his tone. “You sure?” he asked, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly as they scanned your face. “You’ve been acting different lately. Jumpy, kind of… paranoid, maybe?”

The subtle accusation prickled at your nerves, and you tore your gaze away from him, fixing your eyes back on the road. “It’s just school,” you muttered. “And the tests. No big deal.”

But Mark’s voice didn’t lose that sharp edge. “Right,” he said, drawing out the word, as if savoring the slight tension in your voice. “Because that’s totally you. Ignoring me and Dad, breaking down in the arms of your friends you see in school everyday, and sitting at the dining table like a vegetable for hours.”

You tightened your grip on your seatbelt, willing yourself to stay calm. “Maybe I just need sometime to myself,” you replied, forcing yourself to sound nonchalant.

Mark didn’t respond right away, but you felt his gaze linger, heavy and assessing. You were painfully aware of his scrutiny, and each second under his gaze felt like it stretched into eternity. Then, he leaned back, lips curling in a faint smirk.

“Whatever it is,” he said softly, almost a whisper, but there was a chill behind his words that sent a shiver down your spine. “I’ll find out, (Y/n).”

The words hung in the air, charged with unspoken promises. You could feel his eyes on you, searching, prying, as if he were peeling back the layers of your mind to uncover whatever secrets you kept hidden. You forced yourself to look straight ahead, but his words echoed in your mind, sinking in like a thorn you couldn’t dislodge.

As you pulled up to the school, you felt as though you could barely breathe. Mark turned off the car, watching you with that same intense, unnerving gaze. “Don’t go doing anything you’ll regret,” he added, his tone light, almost playful, but the underlying menace was unmistakable.

With a tight nod, you opened the car door and stepped out, feeling his gaze bore into your back as you walked toward the school entrance. The hollow ache in your chest grew heavier, the knowledge that your own brother was already suspicious clawing at you. You had five months left before everything fell apart—and now, Mark was already starting to close in.

The moment you stepped out of the car, you quickened your pace, your feet carrying you across the parking lot toward the school entrance where Hallie, Connor, and Weston were waiting. You could feel Mark’s gaze burning into your back, heavy with suspicion, his presence like a dark cloud that followed you no matter how fast you walked. You forced yourself to keep your head down, ignoring the instinct to turn around and see if he was still watching.

As you neared your friends, a breath of relief slipped from your lips. Hallie caught your eye, giving you a small, knowing nod, and Weston nudged Connor, who was hunched over his phone. They could see the strain in your expression, the tension lingering around you, and immediately closed the distance, creating a small, protective circle.

“Everything okay?” Hallie asked quietly, her voice low but filled with concern. You managed a quick nod, brushing it off as best as you could.

“It’s… fine,” you said, though the slight tremor in your voice betrayed you.

They didn’t press further, but you could tell they were already on edge. They knew you well enough to sense when something was wrong, and your silence said plenty.

A few feet behind you, Mark had come to a stop, his arms folded as he leaned against the side of the car, watching you with that same unsettling intensity. He made no effort to hide it, his gaze fixed, sharp, studying your every move. A casual onlooker might not notice the tension in his stance, but you could feel it, the way he observed you with the quiet patience of someone biding their time.

Then, in a calculated move, Mark shifted his attention to a group of boys loitering by the side of the building—his so-called friends. They were loud, boisterous, and clearly thrilled to see him approach, clapping him on the shoulder and making crude jokes, the type he always pretended to enjoy. But you knew him too well; you saw the way he tolerated their company with a thinly veiled disdain, a quiet irritation masked by a charming grin.

One of the boys slapped Mark on the back, laughing too loudly at something Mark hadn’t even responded to. Mark flashed a smirk, humoring them, but his gaze darted back to you, subtle but piercing, as if ensuring you knew he was still watching. He laughed at some joke, a hollow sound, but his eyes never lost that calculated look, a hunter keeping track of his prey while biding his time.

Your shoulders tensed. Even surrounded by his friends, he seemed hyper-focused on you, as though he could sense your discomfort. You knew he was letting you go for now, but his patience wouldn’t last forever. Mark was never one to let things go unchecked, and with each passing second, his suspicion was sharpening, honing in on you.

Connor’s hand brushed against your arm, bringing you back to the present. “You good?” he asked, his voice a murmur, keeping it low so no one else could hear.

You forced yourself to breathe, nodding again. “Let’s get inside.”

Together, you and your friends made your way into the school, the familiar hum of voices and shuffling footsteps drowning out the tension outside. But even as the walls closed around you, shielding you from Mark’s stare, you couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d already set his sights on you, and he wouldn’t stop until he’d unraveled every secret you fought so hard to hide.

As you made your way through the bustling hallway, you leaned in close to Hallie, whispering, “We need to talk. Later.”

She nodded in agreement before heading off to her first class, Weston following in tandem. 

With that, you and Conner head to your first class, nerves jolting and wired. For some reason your fight-or-flight was kicking in, pumping needless adrenaline through your body (it seemed like your body was always in fight or flight mode, never really stopping or calming down). 

As you and Connor slipped into your seats, you forced yourself to look as composed as possible, even as your insides churned with anxiety. The entire classroom felt distant, almost surreal, as if you were watching it all through a fog. Your hands clenched the edge of your desk, a small attempt to ground yourself, to stop the insistent rush of adrenaline flooding your veins.

It was almost maddening, this constant state of vigilance, like your body couldn’t accept that, for now at least, you were safe. You knew Mark was out there somewhere, probably already listening with his enhanced hearing, his sharp ears tuned in for the slightest slip-up. He could be in any room, any hallway, eavesdropping without you even realizing it.

Soon, your math teacher, Mrs. Barnes entered, her heels clacking against the linoleum floor, as she began to set up for the day’s lesson. You took a shaky breath, forcing your focus on her as she scrawled equations across the whiteboard, her voice drifting around you as she launched into a review of yesterday’s formulas.

But as you tried to listen, to grasp the material, you hit a wall—a terrifying, absolute void where your memories of math should have been. The numbers blurred, sliding off your mind like water, and no matter how hard you focused, the information simply wouldn’t stick.

Panicking slightly, you scanned the board, hoping that maybe a familiar formula or concept would spark something. But it was like staring at a foreign language. The frustration gnawed at you, each failed attempt to remember only heightening your sense of dread. You looked over at Connor, your pulse racing, and found him already watching you, a look of shared panic in his eyes.

You could tell he was struggling too. He shook his head slightly, his mouth set in a grim line. He leaned down, pulling out his notebook and scribbling something quickly. Glancing around to make sure no one was watching, he slid it over to you.

Do you remember any of this?

You hesitated, your hand trembling as you wrote back. 

Nothing. I can’t remember a single thing. It’s like…

You couldn’t bring yourself to finish the sentence. It was as if everything you’d learned here—the academic knowledge, the normal parts of life—had simply been erased. Your mind was so conditioned to survive, to fight and endure, that it had discarded everything else. In a terrifying way, you were no longer the student you once were. You’d been reshaped entirely by the trauma of the last life.

Connor swallowed, looking down at the note. You watched as he took in the implications, his face growing paler with every passing second. Mrs. Barnes continued her lesson, unaware of the silent panic that rippled between you and Connor. The words she wrote on the board may as well have been gibberish. You didn’t even recognize half the terms she was using anymore, the definitions blurred or completely forgotten.

You turned your gaze to your textbook, flipping the pages with trembling fingers, hoping that something, anything, would stick. But all you could focus on was the sensation of being cornered, of being hunted. Your mind kept flitting back to those dark days in the resistance, to the endless battles, to the snap decisions you’d made just to stay alive. It was like your brain had rewired itself, discarding anything that didn’t serve the immediate need to survive.

Connor nudged you, snapping you out of your spiraling thoughts, and he quickly scribbled another note.

This is bad. What are we supposed to do if we can’t even remember the basics?

You tried to take a calming breath, but it came out shaky. He was right. You were barely keeping up this façade of normalcy as it was. If you couldn’t handle school, you’d stand out even more. Mark would notice. Your parents would notice. Teachers would start asking questions. People would wonder what had happened to you.

We’ll figure something out, you wrote back, though even you weren’t convinced.

It seems like you’ve said that same sentence too many times though with no real solutions.

But before you could come up with a more reassuring answer, Mrs. Barnes turned toward your row, her eyes narrowing as she scanned the classroom. Your heart skipped a beat, and you quickly shifted your gaze to the board, hoping she hadn’t noticed the exchange.

“Connor, (Y/n). Is there something you’d like to share with the class?” she asked, her tone pointed.

You straightened in your seat, forcing a tight smile. “No, ma’am. Just—trying to catch up.”

She held your gaze for a moment longer than you liked, suspicion flickering in her eyes, but eventually she turned back to the board, resuming her explanation. You exchanged a glance with Connor, both of you silently relieved.

But the relief was short-lived. The void in your mind loomed larger, a terrifying reminder of the life you’d left behind—and the life you couldn’t fully return to. It was becoming painfully clear that you weren’t just out of practice or distracted, no, something fundamental had changed inside you. You were something else entirely now, someone forged in battle and scarred by the horrors of survival.

The lesson droned on. You could only hope that whatever pieces of your old self remained would be enough to keep everyone safe, long enough to figure out how to stop the coming shit show.

Finally, the bell rings, a sharp burst of sound cutting through your thoughts, you quickly gather your things, grateful for the temporary reprieve from your spiraling thoughts. You and Connor exchange a brief, tense look before parting ways. You both have too much to figure out, too many gaps to fill, but there’s no time now.

Your next class, Entry Biology, is in another part of the building, tucked into a quieter wing. The halls are buzzing with students, their voices overlapping in casual conversations that feel alien to you, like a language you no longer fully understand. You keep your gaze down, trying to blend in as best as you can, making your way through the sea of faces and finding your classroom near the end of the corridor.

You step inside, spotting a seat at the back of the room. With no assigned seating, you slip into it, hoping it’ll give you some measure of privacy. As you set your bag down, you can’t remember if this was your usual seat or not. The details of your day-to-day routine from this life feel like a distant memory, blurring with the harsh reality of your previous one. If someone had taken this seat before, they’d just have to ask you to move. For now, you’re hoping they’ll leave you alone.

The room gradually fills with students, but no one seems to notice or care that you’re there. You breathe a small sigh of relief, your mind still reeling from the earlier realization that your memory has turned selectively barren. Biology… you struggle to recall the basic concepts, things that should be easy.

Mitosis? Ecosystems? Even the Cell Cycle feels slippery in your mind. The memories just won’t solidify. Your mind instinctively drifts back to the knowledge that does stick, but it’s all survival tactics, the hollow echo of combat drills, the weight of loss, and the survival instincts that you can’t shake.

Your teacher, Mr. Halloway, enters the room, adjusting his glasses as he sets down his materials on the desk. He’s a calm, unassuming presence with an easygoing manner that normally might have put you at ease. But today, you find it hard to focus, the anxiety lingering from earlier gnawing at you as he begins writing on the board.

“Alright, class, today we’re going to dive into cell structures and the basics of cell function,” he says, the chalk scratching faintly as he writes. “Let’s start with the organelles—things like the mitochondria, nucleus, and chloroplasts in plant cells.”

Okay! You knew about the Mitochondria: powerhouse of the cell.

You stare at the board, the words and diagrams meaningless in your mind, like someone dumped them there without context. There’s a flicker of recognition, but it feels shallow, inaccessible. You remember how cells look under a microscope, how textbooks diagram them out with labeled parts, but the function of each organelle slips through your grasp. Your heart sinks as you realize it isn’t just math—you really don’t remember anything.

You fish your phone out of your bag, concealing it beneath the desk, and quickly type a message to Your group chat.

(Y/n): Can’t remember anything from class feels like my brain’s wiped

A few seconds pass before Weston’s reply comes in.

Westy My Bestie: Same here

Can’t remember jack shit

Halligator: This is bad

Geometry is my best subject and now i can't even remember simple theorems

     Ppl r gonna get sus

You read their responses, your grip on the phone tightening. At least you’re not alone in this, but it doesn’t ease the gnawing anxiety that your memories are failing you. The bell signaling the end of class is a lifeline, and you’re the first one out the door, weaving through the crowded hallway with your thoughts spinning.

The final bell rings for lunch, and you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. Your last two classes so far, AP Human Geography and English I, had been easier to handle, but that gnawing feeling of something missing never left.

Geography was more about concepts, patterns of human behavior, and interactions rather than memorized facts, so you managed to piece together enough to get by. English, luckily, was more focused on analysis than strict recall, so your rusty memory didn’t hinder you as much. But the underlying dread still weighed on you, a nagging reminder that anything concrete, anything involving details you should remember, seemed out of reach.

You step into the hallway, the crowd surging around you, and immediately spot Weston waiting outside his classroom. He raises a hand in greeting, a familiar face amid the chaos, and together, you head toward the cafeteria. The line’s already growing, students chatting and joking around.. You scan the serving trays, landing on the day’s special: some sort of chicken sandwich with fries and a bag of chips.

A smile tugs at your lips despite the morning you’ve had; after living off scraps and rations in your past life, a hot meal—even a school cafeteria one—was a blessing. The memory of tearing open a ration pack, forcing down tasteless blocks of compressed food, flashes through your mind, and you’re struck by how strange it feels to have choices again.

Once you’ve paid for your food, you and Weston make your way through the bustling cafeteria and out into the open-air courtyard. It’s refreshing to be outside, where the air feels less claustrophobic and you can catch glimpses of the autumn leaves turning golden, the first hints of fall in the cool breeze. You spot Connor and Hallie already sitting at your usual table, near the far edge of the courtyard, both of them eating like they haven’t seen food in days.

"Hey," you greet them, sliding into the seat beside Connor while Weston sits across from you. You unwrap your sandwich, taking a hesitant bite. The flavors hit your taste buds, far better than anything you’d had during the rebellion. It was still a cafeteria meal, but right now, it might as well have been gourmet.

Hallie looks up from her sandwich, barely swallowing before launching into conversation. "God, you guys have no idea how weird today’s been." She glances around, ensuring no one’s within earshot before she continues. "I feel like I’m flunking every single class. I don’t remember anything useful."

Connor nods in agreement, his expression grim. “Same here. It’s like my brain’s refusing to do anything academic. Anything beyond survival skills… it’s just blank.”

Weston, who’s been munching on his fries, glances up, his face thoughtful. "Maybe it’s some kind of psychological thing? Like, we’re all for sure traumatized and now that we’re back, we’re struggling to fit in? Doesn’t the brain forget non-vital info under extreme stress or something?"

You nod, considering his theory, but it doesn’t offer much comfort. If this was some side effect of trauma, it was leaving you dangerously exposed. 

"It makes sense," you admit, trying to keep your voice steady. "But it’s going to be hard to keep up the act if we can’t remember even basic things. Especially with…” Your voice trails off, not wanting to say his name out loud.

But Connor catches your drift. “Mark,” he mutters, a tense silence settling over the group. “He’s been watching you, hasn’t he?”

"Yeah," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. "He knows something’s up. He hasn’t figured out what, but he’s… suspicious."

Hallie’s eyes narrow, and her jaw clenches as she takes a sharp breath. "We need a plan, and fast. It’s one thing to keep low in class, but Mark? He’s not just anybody. If he thinks there’s something to find out, he’ll find it."

Your stomach twists as you think back to his words from that morning: “Whatever it is, I’ll find out, (Y/n).” You remembered the look in his eyes, the way he seemed to study you, his gaze cold and calculating, false care in his voice, like you were nothing more than a puzzle to be solved.

"Maybe," Weston says slowly, breaking the silence, "we could take a more passive approach. You know, let him think he’s figured you out. Act dumb or, like, make mistakes on purpose. Lead him onto a false answer."

Connor raises an eyebrow, considering it. "Might work, but it’s risky. If he thinks he’s being played, he won’t hold back.

You nod at Weston, “I think its worth a shot. We’re all screwed either way, so what's the harm?”

After your statement, everyone falls into a comfortable silence; most likely retreating into their own minds.

You continue eating in silence, the sounds of laughter and conversations around you feeling distant, like a world you’re no longer part of. Each bite you take tastes more and more hollow.

Finally, Connor breaks the silence again. “We need to figure out how we’re going to warn the Guardians. Without tipping off Mark or Omni-Man.”

You nod, your mind already spinning with ideas and doubts. 

“We have to get a message to them somehow. We could use anonymous tips, maybe? Something that won’t trace back to us?” Hallie shoots out.

Weston shrugs. “Anonymous tips work in movies, sure, but this is real life. They’ll get curious, and then the government and Guardians will find out it was us. Plus, Omni-man and Invincible are two highly respected and trusted heroes, there's no guarantee they’d even believe the warning we send.”

“Weston has a point,” You say. “But, it doesn't matter. If they believe us or not, at least they’ll have the thought in the back of their minds. Even if it comes back to us, at least the Guardians will know.”

Because in a world where the clock is ticking, and survival is the only option—there’s no time left to be selfish over your own lives.

[hoe4hotchner]

Chapter 1 - First impressions

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x figure skater (fem)!Reader

Summary: The story follows you a figure skater training for nationals and Aaron Hotchner as your lives intertwine during an investigation into the abductions of young athletic women, including the your close friend, Leah. As the BAU delves deeper into the case, you find yourself captivated by Hotch’s quiet strength and protective presence. When Leah’s body is tragically discovered at the rink, the tension escalates, surrounding you in an atmosphere of fear and uncertainty.

Word count: 4.7k

Warnings: Case talk, mansplaining, mentions of murder, mentions of kidnapping.

A/N: Here ye here ye!! Chapter 1 is here for everyone to read. The amount of times I mention the word "discipline" and "weight" in this chapter is crazy.

Masterlist

           The conference room at the BAU was buzzing with a quiet and anticipatory energy as the team filed in, each member cradling a cup of coffee and carrying their files. It was early - earlier than usual - but no one seemed surprised. It was not unusual for them to be called in early. This was routine. Yet, something felt different. They didn’t have all the details, but the call for a briefing sounded urgent and hinted at a case that would require every ounce of their focus.

           Hotch stood at the front of the room, his expression unreadable as usual, but the slight tension in his posture was enough to make the others take notice. Morgan slid into his seat, casually glancing at the iPad in front of him while Reid shuffled through his usual pile of notes. Emily and JJ exchanged brief, curious looks shot towards Hotch, their voices hushed as they speculated about the case.

           "Alright, listen up," Hotch said, his voice cutting through the hum of the room as he moved in front of the screen. The screen was still blank behind him, it stood like a canvas waiting to be filled with the details of their current nightmare. He clicked the remote in his hand, the screen flickering to life, displaying the images of young women. One by one, their smiling faces filled the frame - each picture a snapshot of life before it looked to have been ripped away.

           "These women," Hotch continued, gesturing toward the images, "have all gone missing from the same local area over the past month." The room fell eerily silent, eyes fixed on the screen. The women were similar, maybe a little too similar - each in their 20's, all athletic, with the same builds. Their smiles, once vibrant and full of life, now seemed haunting as pictures of the first two victims' dead bodies flashed onto the screen and painted a grim picture.

           The team’s focus sharpened, the weight of their faces settling in. Reid leaned in slightly, eyes darting over the patterns he could already see emerging. Each woman had lived a life filled with potential and discipline.

           "Athletes," Hotch added, his voice quieter now but firm. "Every one of them. Fit, disciplined, and otherwise healthy." His words hung in the air as the team began to form their own theories. A disturbing pattern was taking shape, though none of them knew yet just how far the darkness stretched.

           He clicked again, bringing up a detailed map on the screen. Red markers indicated the precise locations where the women were last seen and likely abducted. "As you can see," Hotch said, gesturing toward the first two marks, "the first two victims were last seen leaving local gyms in the early evening. Both were alone, security cameras showed them heading to their cars, and when their car leaves the frame that is the last image we have of each victim."

           He paused, then pointed to the third marker. "Leah Connors, our most recent victim, was taken from this parking lot outside the Ice Pavilion, where she trained late at night, four days ago. She had just finished her skating practice when she was abducted. The security cameras in the lot were offline, and no one reported seeing anything suspicious in the neighborhood at the time."

           Morgan leaned forward, his eyes narrowing as he studied the map intently. He traced the lines connecting the crime scenes with his finger, the pattern beginning to form in his mind. "So, what we're dealing with here," he said, voice low but firm, "is someone who's deliberately targeting a specific type of woman. These aren't random grabs Hotch; he’s choosing women who are strong and fit, and certainly doesn't lack discipline. They likely represent something to him, something personal."

           Morgan’s eyes lingered on the photos of each victim, each woman’s face radiating vitality and ambition. His gaze hardened as he thought through the unsub’s motives. “These women... they could represent control, strength, maybe even perfection to him,” he said, his voice heavy with the thought of what they were about to unravel. "Whatever it is, he’s fixating on women who push their bodies to the limit - athletes who excel physically, women who embody discipline and hard work." His hand gestured toward the images.

           He paused, searching for the right words to capture the darkness of the unsub’s obsession. "It’s like he’s trying to take something from them. Maybe it’s about proving something to himself - dominating women who represent everything he can’t be or control."

           Hotch nodded, stepping forward to add to Morgan’s analysis, his expression grim as he clicked through more slides, each woman’s profile now paired with disturbing notes on their abductions. “According to the initial eval from the field office,” Hotch began, his voice steady but sharp “the unsub may otherwise also be fixated on women he perceives as physically perfect. This could be about asserting dominance over women he feels are unreachable - and as you said Morgan - out of his control.”

           He pointed to the reports beneath each victim’s image. "His method of abduction supports that theory as well. There are no signs of a struggle, no chaos left behind. He’s quick and efficient, which suggests planning. He's organized and methodical." He looked at the team, the weight of his words settling in. “There’s no indication that these women had any chance to fight back. He took them swiftly, without warning - meaning he’s done this before, and he knows how to overpower them.”

           The room was tense as they absorbed the initial profile, each member of the team seeing the chilling precision with which this unsub operated. The victims weren’t just targets - they were symbols, reflections of something he needed to control, no matter the cost.

           “There’s another possibility we need to consider,” he said, his voice low but commanding. “The precision of these abductions suggests he might be more familiar with the victims than we might initially think. Since there’s no sign of a struggle, it’s possible these women knew the unsub, or at least didn’t perceive him as a threat when he approached them.”

           Morgan nodded, leaning forward. “Maybe he’s someone from their world. A coach, trainer, someone who works behind the scenes - someone who blends in.”

           “It would explain why there are no signs of force near the abduction sites. If they trusted him, or at the very least didn’t suspect him, they wouldn’t have their guard up.” Reid added quietly.

           Hotch glanced back at the board. “If that’s the case, the unsub may have been watching these women for a while - learning their routines, embedding himself in their lives just enough to get close without raising suspicion. We need to find out if any of them had contact with the same person before they disappeared.”

           It was a chilling thought, and the room seemed to grow heavier as the possibility settled in. The unsub wasn’t just a predator lying in wait - he could be someone they knew, someone they had trusted.

           Hotch clicked the remote again, and Leah’s photo appeared prominently next to those of the other victims once again, their smiling faces a stark contrast to the grim reality of the case. “Leah’s abduction is what ties us to a new lead. Her figure skating coach, Mark Branson, has a documented history of controlling behavior. Several athletes he’s worked with have come forward with complaints about his intense training regimens, which they described as bordering on abusive. He pushes them beyond their limits - physically and mentally - creating an environment that fosters both fear and dependency.”

           He paused for emphasis, letting the significance of the information settle in the room. “Despite these allegations, he’s never faced charges, but his name came up during Garcia's background check, and we can’t afford to overlook him when time is running out. He’s a potential link to the victims that needs further investigation.”

           “How do we know Branson's not just a demanding coach?” Prentiss interjected, tapping her pen thoughtfully against the table. “That’s pretty common in high-level sports. Coaches often push their athletes hard to achieve success. It could be a case of bad coaching practices rather than anything sinister.”

           Morgan leaned forward. “That may be true, but in high-pressure environments, there’s a fine line between motivation and manipulation. If these athletes felt threatened or coerced, it could indicate a deeper issue. We need to dig into his past and see if there are patterns in his behavior beyond just coaching.”

           “Exactly,” Hotch conceded, his tone measured as he acknowledged Morgan's point. “But we also have a witness who claims she saw someone matching Branson’s description near one of the gymnasiums where one of the other victims trained, just days before she was taken. This isn’t just speculation; it’s a significant lead that connects him to the timeline of these disappearances.”

           Rossi leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed thoughtfully over his chest. The creak of the chair echoed in the quiet room as he contemplated the implications. “Sounds like we need to dig into Branson’s background more thoroughly. We should look for any history of obsession or unusual behavior, particularly any connections to the victims that go beyond just being their coach. If other athletes trained under him, we might uncover more troubling patterns.”

           Reid, flipping through the file in front of him with a sense of urgency, added his insights. “Branson’s control issues could align with the profile. He might see them as a challenge - individuals he needs to break down in order to feel powerful.”

           Morgan nodded in agreement, his expression serious. “And if that’s the case, we need to act fast. He’s likely not going to stop with just these three victims. If we don’t catch him soon, another woman could easily go missing. We have to get ahead of him before he strikes again.” The urgency in his voice emphasized the gravity of the situation, rallying the team’s focus on the task ahead.

           Hotch's expression darkened as the weight of the situation settled heavily on his shoulders. “The field office has already questioned Branson, but we need to go in and talk to him ourselves. It’s crucial that we either rule him out as a suspect or dig deeper into his background. Morgan, Rossi and I will be heading to the rink as soon as possible to speak with him and gather more information.”

           Reid, his brow furrowed in concentration as he scanned his notes, “Do we know if Leah’s body has been found yet?” The question hung in the air, filled with apprehension.

           Hotch shook his head grimly. “No. Leah Connors has not been missing long enough according to the M.O. Every moment that passes decreases our chances of finding her alive. The longer she’s gone, the more likely it is that we won’t recover her.” His voice carried the weight of his experience and understanding of what this case demanded.

           Prentiss glanced at the photos on the board, her expression tightening as the faces of the victims stared back at her. “If Branson’s involved, he might already be planning his next move,” she noted, her voice steady yet tinged with concern.

           As the team began to gather their things, the air was thick with determination. Morgan turned to Hotch, a serious look in his eyes. “You think Branson’s our guy?”

           Hotch paused, his expression contemplative as he narrowed his eyes slightly, weighing the implications. “I don’t know yet. But I want to be sure before we move on. We need every lead we can get. If he’s involved, we need to find out how deep it goes. If he’s innocent, we’ll need to look elsewhere, but either way, we can’t afford to waste time.”

           Morgan nodded in agreement. “Then let’s go see what this guy’s all about.” His words carried a reminder of the stakes involved in their investigation.

           The ice rink was surprisingly serene, a stark contrast to the storm brewing outside. The sound of blades gliding across the frozen surface echoed through the empty arena, creating a delicate rhythm that filled the vast, and chilly space. The agents stepped onto the concrete floor, their breath visible in the crisp air as they scanned their surroundings.

           Hotch walked ahead, his expression unreadable, exuding an air of focus. "Morgan, with me," he said, his voice cutting through the faint melody playing over the rink’s speakers. The soft notes mingled with the sound of skates on ice, creating an almost haunting atmosphere. "Dave, see if you can find the rink manager. We need details on Branson’s schedule, especially who he coached the past couple of weeks and any unusual behavior." The agents dispersed.

           As Hotch moved forward, his gaze lingered on the ice for a moment longer than necessary. There, moving with effortless grace, was a woman - you - performing a series of elegant spins and leaps, perfectly synchronized with the music that filled the space. Your concentration was palpable, every movement executed with the kind of precision that only years of practice could cultivate. You were completely immersed in your art, blissfully unaware of the agents and the investigation unfolding around you.

           Hotch watched as you landed another jump, the smallest hint of admiration creeping into his thoughts. It wasn’t just your skill - it was the focus, the sheer dedication reflected in your every move. Something about your determination resonated with him, a reminder of the relentless pursuit of excellence he had valued in his own work throughout his career. Yet, he quickly pulled his attention back to the case, mentally chiding himself for allowing a moment of distraction.

           "Agent Hotchner?" A voice broke through Hotch's concentration, pulling him back to the present. Branson had appeared at the rink’s edge, wiping his hands on a towel as he approached the team. He was older, in his mid-fifties, with a stocky build. His gruff demeanor was punctuated by a furrowed brow, a clear indication that he was not accustomed to or happy about being questioned.

           "Mr. Branson," Hotch greeted, extending his hand firmly. "We need to ask you a few questions regarding our current investigation." His tone was professional but carried an undertone of authority that left no room for misunderstanding or protests.

           The questioning commenced in typical BAU fashion - focused and direct. Hotch and Morgan exchanged glances, silently communicating their strategy as they probed Branson about his whereabouts during the timeline of the abductions. They inquired about his relationships with his skaters and whether he had any connections to the victims. Branson’s posture stiffened slightly at the mention of the girls, but he maintained eye contact, giving his responses with a defensive steadiness. "I don’t know anything about these girls," he insisted, his voice edged with frustration. "My only concern is my athletes and getting them ready for competitions. I have no interest in anything else. Leah's disappearance doesn't bother me as long as I have her" Branson nodded toward you on the ice.

           Hotch studied him closely, noting the slight tremor in Branson's hands as he spoke and the way his gaze flickered when he mentioned the victims. While his answers didn’t raise immediate red flags, there was still an unsettling quality about his proximity to the victims that couldn’t be ignored. Throughout the years the team had learned that the most dangerous unsubs often blended seamlessly into the backgrounds of their targets, and Branson's defensive stance only heightened Hotch's suspicions. As the conversation progressed, Hotch sensed that there was more to Branson's story, a deeper layer lurking beneath the surface that demanded further investigation when time allowed it.

           "He's clean," Rossi murmured, pulling Hotch aside as he returned from questioning the rink manager. "Alibis line up. I don’t think he’s our unsub."

           Hotch gave a brief nod, though his gaze remained locked on Branson, who was still speaking with Morgan near the rink’s edge. There was no immediate threat, no telltale sign of guilt, but something about the coach kept Hotch’s instincts on alert. "Still," he replied, voice low, "we’ll keep him on the list until we can be sure."

           Branson had the right alibis and nothing overtly suspicious in his behavior, yet Hotch knew better than to dismiss him entirely. People like Branson, who operated in tight-knit athletic communities, often hid things beneath the surface - control issues, power dynamics, unresolved anger. There was always the possibility that something darker lurked just out of sight.

           As the conversation wrapped up and the team prepared to leave, you finally noticed the group of agents lingering near the rink’s entrance as the last notes of your setlist faded. You had been completely absorbed in your routine, unaware of their watchful eyes until now. Slowing your pace, you glided to a stop, chest heaving with exertion but keeping your expression calm and composed. It wasn’t every day a team of federal agents appeared at one of your training sessions.

           "Is everything alright?" you asked cautiously, stepping off the ice and reaching for your jacket draped over the railing. Your eyes flickered briefly to Hotch, catching his gaze just long enough to feel the intensity behind it.

           "We’re investigating a case that might be connected to someone at this facility," Hotch replied in his usual clipped tone, offering no more information than necessary.

           You nodded slowly, glancing toward your coach, who was still speaking with Morgan. Branson’s stern face gave nothing away, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. And something about Hotch’s posture - the way he stood with such composed authority, never fully relaxed - made you uneasy. It was clear that, even though your coach had been cleared, the FBI’s interest in this place wasn’t over yet.

           "Should I be worried?" you asked, trying to keep your tone light, but the tension in your voice betrayed your real concern. There was a part of you that couldn’t help but feel that this investigation, whatever it was, might touch your life more directly than you’d like.

           Hotch's gaze softened just enough to feel reassuring. "We don’t believe you’re in any immediate danger miss," he said, his eyes meeting yours with a steady intensity. "But it’s best to stay cautious. If you notice anything unusual - anything at all - don’t hesitate to contact us." Hotch handed you his business card, something so natural to him, but reassuring to you.

           As you pulled on your jacket and gathered your things, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this wouldn’t be the last time you’d see Agent Hotchner.

           The BAU's visit to the rink had been brief, but the weight of it hung heavy over the team as they regrouped in the conference room. The table was littered with new notes, files, and evidence photos, each one a potential piece to the puzzle that still remained frustratingly incomplete. As the team settled in, their usual energy subdued, Hotch found his thoughts drifting, his focus momentarily splintered in a way that felt unfamiliar.

           It wasn’t like him to let his mind wander. Normally, he was able to compartmentalize everything - his thoughts, his emotions - keeping them all in neat, orderly boxes. Yet today, something lingered in the back of his mind, something that pulled him away from the stacks of files and images before him. It wasn’t just the case that weighed on him; it was you - the way you moved with an intensity and purpose, the way you'd looked so innocent, so angelic while practicing your routine on the ice.

           It wasn’t just your grace on the ice, though that was undeniably striking. It was something more intrinsic, something about the way you carried yourself as if you had spent your entire life fighting through obstacles - physical, mental, emotional even. He saw it in your posture, the way you pushed yourself through the routine despite exhaustion, your expression tight with focus and determination. It reminded him of the same relentless drive that kept him going on the job, the way he forced himself to be stronger, to endure, no matter the pain and personal cost.

           As he sat at the head of the table, files splayed open in front of him, Hotch couldn’t shake the image of you mid-leap, suspended in the air for what felt like a heartbeat. He could still recall the sound of the blades of your skates hitting the ice as you landed. Your face had been a mask of concentration, and in that brief moment, he recognized something deeply familiar. The discipline, the perseverance, the quiet strength - it was as if he had seen a reflection of himself. And though he couldn’t quite place why, an odd sense of admiration crept into his thoughts, catching him off guard.

           “Hotch?” Morgan's voice cut through his trance, pulling him sharply back to the room.

           Hotch blinked, momentarily disoriented, before clearing his throat and sitting up straighter in his chair. "Yeah," he said, his voice firm, though there was a slight edge to it, betraying the brief lapse in his usual composure. "What’s our next step?"

           Morgan didn’t press Hotch further. "Garcia’s doing a deep dive into Branson’s finances and personal life," Morgan explained. "So far, nothing out of the ordinary, but we’re still waiting on some records. She’s combing through everything - credit reports, phone records, anything that could give us a lead."

           Hotch nodded, but even as he listened to Morgan’s update, part of his mind still lingered at that rink. There was something about this investigation that felt different. Something that, for better or worse, had struck a chord in him.

           “What about his connections?" Prentiss asked, her voice laced with curiosity. "Any personal relationships with the victims beyond coaching?”

           “None that we’ve uncovered so far," Rossi replied, "but there’s definitely a pattern forming. Even if Branson doesn’t have direct ties to these women, all of them were deeply involved in their athletic circles right before they vanished. It’s possible the unsub may be targeting these communities, using them as a hunting ground.”

           Hotch nodded in agreement as he sifted through the case files in front of him, his eyes scanning each piece of information carefully, dotting down a few scribbled notes along the way. “We need to broaden our investigation,” he said, flipping another page. "If Branson isn’t directly involved, then we could be looking at someone who’s still connected to these places. Maybe a spectator, a sponsor - someone who blends in at these events but stays under the radar.”

           The conversation moved forward, focusing on logistics and the next steps, but Hotch’s mind wandered back to the rink, back to you.

           But he couldn’t afford distractions. Not now.

           Back at the rink, the air felt sharper than usual as you replayed the events of the day in your mind. The presence of the FBI had been jarring, a reminder that the world beyond the rink was far from safe. Your coach had barely contained his frustration during the questioning, his agitation palpable even after the agents left. It wasn’t every day that a federal investigation collided with your life so directly, and it certainly wasn’t every day that you crossed paths with someone like Aaron Hotchner.

           His presence had been impossible to ignore, though it wasn’t in the way most people might expect. Hotch’s quiet intensity was unsettling, but not in a bad way - it was just that he carried himself with such calm authority, that it demanded attention. You couldn’t shake the feeling that his gaze had lingered on you during practice, though it never felt intrusive. If anything, it felt like he was studying you, but not in a way that made you uncomfortable.

           As you completed another lap around the rink after your break, the sound of your blades slicing through the ice should have calmed you. Usually, the rhythm of skating helped clear your mind, the repetitive movements allowing you to focus. But today was different. The weight of the investigation, the fact that Leah seemed to have disappeared completely from the roster, and the FBI’s looming presence throughout the rink made it hard to concentrate. You couldn’t help but wonder if the investigation would interfere with your training in any way - if the agents would come back and disrupt your routine again.

           Leah’s absence weighed heavily on your heart. She wasn’t just a fellow skater; she’d been your friend. You usually spoke at least once a day, but her sudden disappearance from your life had left a deep void, not only in your small circle but in the rink itself. Everyone was on edge, whispering about what had happened, if it had anything to do with the other athletes having gone missing, who would be next - as if skating wasn’t dangerous enough already. You shivered at the thought.

           Your thoughts were interrupted by Branson’s gruff voice calling out to you from the edge of the rink. “Hey," he said, breaking through the fog in your mind as you slowed to a stop near the boards. "You alright?"

           You nodded, though you weren’t entirely sure if that was the truth. "Just thinking about Leah," you replied, pulling your jacket tighter around yourself as you caught your breath. "Do you think... someone took her?"

           Branson’s usual stern expression softened, but there was still tension in his posture as if the whole ordeal had him on edge too. He sighed heavily, running a hand over his face before replying, “I don’t know, kid. But the FBI’s involved now. They don’t mess around. If anyone’s going to find her, it’ll be them. You just focus on your routine. Nationals are in a few weeks, and we need you at your best.”

           You nodded, though the reassurance did little to ease the gnawing unease in your chest. Leah’s fate hung in the air like a storm cloud, and no matter how hard you tried to focus on skating, the uncertainty remained, creeping into your thoughts with every glide. As you turned to skate away, you couldn’t help but glance at the spot where Agent Hotchner had stood earlier, wondering if you’d see him again - and if this nightmare would be over soon.

           Later that evening, Hotch sat in his dimly lit office, the soft amber glow of his desk lamp casting shadows across the stack of files and reports spread before him. The weight of the case pressed heavily on his shoulders, but his focus kept slipping, drawn back to the rink. To the investigation. And, much to his frustration, to you.

           He stared blankly at the notes scattered in front of him, but the words blurred together, failing to hold his attention. It wasn’t typical for him - he was known for his ability to set aside distractions and zero in on the task at hand. But something about today was different. He couldn’t shake the memory of watching you on the ice, the effortless way you moved. There had been such precision in your performance, every movement executed with an intensity and control that mirrored the way he approached his work. It stirred something in him, a recognition of sorts.

           It wasn’t attraction - not in the usual sense, anyway. It was more of an understanding.

           But this wasn’t about him, and it certainly wasn’t about you. Hotch closed his eyes briefly, exhaling deeply as he tried to push the distractions aside. Leah Connors was still missing, and every minute that passed made it less likely she'd be alive when they found her. This case was about her, about finding the truth before it was too late. Not you.

           With a tired sigh, Hotch closed the file in front of him and leaned back in his chair, the leather creaking under the shift in weight. Tomorrow, they’d return to the rink. Tomorrow, they’d dig deeper, unraveling the web that surrounded Leah and perhaps Mark Branson. They were running out of time, but Hotch was determined to get closer to the truth.

           Still, as he sat there in the quiet solitude of his office, he couldn’t help but wonder why you kept lingering in his thoughts. What was it about you that had struck such a chord? Was it the way you reminded him of the person he used to be before the job consumed him? Or was it something else entirely? He shook his head, trying to push the thought away. Tomorrow, he told himself.

           Tomorrow, he’d figure it out.

Tag list: @love4lando @therealbaberuthless @crazyunsexycool @pear-1206 @bookworm124

[keerysfreckles]

truth is | CONNOR BEDARD 98

pairing: connor bedard x fem!reader

summary: when an incident between y/n and a player on the toronto maple leafs brings her and connor closer together.

warnings: use of y/n, she/her pronouns, mentions of cuts, blood and injuries, kissing, swearing, petnames used (hun, baby, babe), kind of heated makeout

a/n: ofc i had to include my fav hockey team in a connor fic its just who i am (also hockey era incoming)

masterlist ! | requests are open

⋆ ˚ ｡ ⋆ ୨୧ ˚

people always say you can be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

y/n l/n however didn't think the phrase would be relevant to her in the middle of the second period against the toronto maple leafs.

tonight marks the 100th nhl game for y/n. her and her teammate, connor bedard, were both drafted into the team going into the 2023 season, making this their sophomore years in the nhl.

the two teenagers immediately became close due to their birthdays being only two days apart in the same year.

it was more of a running joke (maybe a superstition) for the hawks in which every time connor scored a goal, y/n scored one quickly after.

which explains why y/n is more than determined to get the puck between the goalie of the toronto maple leafs, twenty seconds after connor scored a goal to tie the game.

after trying to hit the puck in again after a rebound, a player from the leafs hit it away from their own goal. in the small bit of commotion to follow the puck, a second leafs player fell onto the ice, with his skates up in the air as he fell into an odd position.

unbeknownst to the leafs captain as he went around the net, he bumped into y/n, not hard, but definitely enough to push her forward.

now y/n finally understood what people meant when they said wrong place wrong time.

just as y/n was falling forwards, the leafs player that was on the ground, his skate moved.

the only thing y/n felt was something cold against her face, followed by something warm and wet, and it caused her so much pain.

she immediately flinched, both from the feeling on her cheek and from finally hitting the ground after getting pushed. the game around her kept moving as she reached a gloved hand up to her face, panicking slightly when the white on her hand was now red when she pulled it away from her skin.

the closes referee noticed the girl on the floor and quickly blew his whistle.

within the mere seconds of the injury, blood was quickly making its way down y/n's cheek and neck, and onto her jersey and the ice.

fans began booing the player who cut her, while others were quiet and concerned about the blackhawks player.

y/n wasn't sure when she began to cry, but as soon as connor, and another teammate came up to her to help her, her tears weren't stopping any time soon.

the blackhawks coach was quick to meet y/n at the boards, sending her off to the medic room.

"can i go with her?" the question from connor certainly caught everyone off gaurd. he's never wanted to go with any other player if they got sent to the medic, so why did he want to go with y/n?

"please?" y/n asks, only wanting connor by her side, as she hold her glove to her cut, trying her best to stop the bleeding.

the coach sends both players off, definitely not happy now missing two critical team players.

y/n and connor faintly hear the whistle blow as they make it down the hall to the medic room.

"jeez, what happened here?" the doctor asked, frowning at the sight of y/n in front of her.

y/n was about to answer, only to find out it hurt for her to talk, making tears run down her cheeks once more.

connor was quick to speak up, "a leafs player's blade cut her, not sure how bad it is though."

the doctor nods, "can you move your glove hun?"

y/n does as asked, and the doctor slightly gasps at the cut and now blood stained cheek.

connor moves to take a look as well, and simply grabs onto y/n's hand in comfort. the girl can't deny the blush she feels creeping up to her cheeks.

while the doctor instructs y/n to sit, connor takes both of their gloves and helmets and sets them down on an empty chair.

the doctor walks y/n through the cleaning process, causing y/n to wince and reach out for connor's hand whenever some cold touched her wound.

"it is a mild cut, so it's going to need a few stitches."

y/n only nods, realizing how much energy has finally been taken out of her. all she wanted to do now was go to her apartment and sleep for the next twenty-four hours.

connor however stayed by her side the whole time, repeating comforting words whenever he noticed her eyes squeeze shut in discomfort, or when her hand tightened around his.

"we're almost done, just one more okay?"

the doctor is as quick as possible to finish her work, before handing an ice pack to y/n, who gladly holds it on her now slightly swollen face.

"the stitches can come out in one week if they don't fall out on their own, and i wouldn't reccomend talking for the next few hours. i would also advise to miss as many hockey games as you can. just so your wound can properly heal, and you won't be irritating it by yelling and all the other hockey stuff, yeah?"

y/n slightly chuckles at the doctor's last words, and connor thanks her before grabbing their things and walking with y/n back to their locker rooms.

connor looked at the small tv in the hallway, noticing the third period had started, meaning the two had a few more moments of privacy before the whole team would come barging in.

connor sits beside y/n on one of the benches, and smiles as she leans her head against his shoulder.

"how are you feeling?"

y/n simply shrugs.

"that bad, huh?"

"i just want to go home," she mumbles out, her words slurred together from the ice pack squishing her cheek and due to the pain.

"did you drive here?"

y/n shakes her head, now feeling stupid for asking a friend to drive her to their home stadium.

"i can drive you home, if you want," connor offers.

y/n nods as fast as she can, making connor chuckle again. he suggests they should finally change out of their sweaty jerseys and protective pads, making y/n get up and go to the very smaller locker room, specifically made for her, right next door.

they were both quick to change, both meeting in the hallway wearing sweatpants and hoodies.

"wait, won't coach mind we're gone?" y/n mumbles, just as connor's grabbing her bag off her shoulder.

he shakes his head, "no way. you got injured, the last thing you want to do is celebrate or do post game interviews. and i can just text one of the guys and tell him i took you home."

y/n nods as the two begin leaving the stadium. they get to connor's car fairly quickly, and y/n doesn't even have to tell connor the way to her apartment, since he's been at least once a week since they became friends.

"does it still hurt?" connor asks as he finally turns onto the street where y/n's apartment complex is.

"not as bad. the ice is definitely helping."

"that's good to hear."

connor and y/n make their way up the steps to y/n's apartment, still with connor carrying her bad for her. she fishes her keys out of the side pocket and lets them inside.

"why don't you go change into some pjs and i can throw on a movie?"

y/n gasps, "yes please."

connor laughs at her excitement before walking towards the couch, "i'll be out here."

⋆ ˚ ｡ ⋆ ୨୧ ˚

about an hour into the movie y/n had ended up picking for them to watch, connor felt a thump on his shoulder.

he turned, being met with y/n's head now resting on his shoulder. her eyes were closed and her breathing was even. he could only describe her as peaceful.

connor simply turned the movie off, knowing y/n would have a fit if he watched the rest without her.

as best as he could, he shuffled out from beside her and tried grabbing her to bring her to her bed, knowing she'd be more comfortable there. however she stirs when he tries picking her up again.

"what?" she mumbles tiredly.

connor chuckles, "i'm just trying to move you to your bed. you fell asleep against me."

"oh, okay," y/n relaxes again, making connor reach for her again, and successfully pick her up in his arms.

he carefully brings her down the hallway towards her room and sets her on the bed. as be leaves to grab a glass of water and pain medicine he knows she'll need in the morning, she works on getting herself comfortable.

"do you want me to spend the night? just in case you need anything?" he asks before shutting the door to let the girl sleep.

"can you stay?"

connor can't not stay at the sound her voice. he nods as a response, before shutting the door quietly. he makes his space for the night on the couch as comfortable as possible, grabbing the throw blanket on the end and piling the two pillows up as one.

⋆ ˚ ｡ ⋆ ୨୧ ˚

when y/n woke up the next morning, she knew one thing. her face hurt.

it hurt to swallow, it hurt to move her face, it hurt to drink water. everything simply hurt.

she couldn't imagine how much it would hurt to talk, let alone yell for connor. so she didn't even try.

she got up, completed her morning routine (minus brushing her teeth, she only guessed it would hurt), and walked slowly towards the living room and kitchen.

she turned and was surprised at the sight of connor cooking. his back was towards her, and the sound and smell of bacon cooking on the stove in front of her welcomed her into the kitchen.

she walked around him so her non-injured cheek was now resting against his shoulder.

"well hello sleepyhead," he jokes, making y/n notice it was almost eleven in the morning.

"does your cheek still hurt?"

y/n only nods, once again not daring to speak.

"after you eat something will you let me clean it again? i know it's gonna hurt but that's what the doctor said to do," connor reminds her, earning a groan out of her, making connor laugh.

"i promise i'll be gentle," he affirms while placing three strips of bacon onto two plates.

as he brought them over to the living room, y/n followed.

a few minutes passed and y/n didn't touch a single piece of bacon.

"are you not hungry?" connor asks.

y/n nods, her stomach has been rumbling since the moment she woke up.

"does it hurt to much to eat?"

y/n nods again, looking down at the plate in her lap in defeat.

"oh baby," connor pouts, as the pet name just slips past his lips. "can i clean you up first then? maybe some pain killers can help too?"

y/n nods again, grabbing connor's hand as he offers to help her up off the couch and towards the bathroom.

y/n sits patiently on the closed toilet seat as connor tries gathering as many first aid supplies as he can. once he's satisfied with his haul, he begins cleaning the girl's cheek to the best of his abilities. he was careful when taking off the bandage and wiping around the area, and let y/n hold his hand if needed.

after cleaning it, he took a warm washcloth to the skin. y/n sighed in comfort, feeling more comfortable than she's ever felt in the past twenty four hours.

"does that help?"

"mhm," she replies, her eyes closing in bliss.

connor wets the washcloth again, making sure the water isn't too hot, and brings it back to her cheek. connor is now kneeling in front of her, with her hand resting against his cheek.

the two however don't break eye contact this time, but this doesn't make the moment uncomfortable.

subconsciously connor begins rubbing his thumb over the material of the washcloth, not knowing the butterflies it was causing in y/n's stomach.

"connor," it's the first word y/n has said the entire morning, and it makes connor's heart flip.

"yeah?"

"why have you been so nice to me?"

connor takes a minute before answering, trying to internally find the right words to share.

"i just need to make sure you're okay," he was satisfied with his own answer, but y/n wasn't.

"but no other player would've done all this for me," y/n defends, talking more now that her cheek isn't hurting as much.

"well yeah, i mean we're best friends. i have to help you. i want to help you."

a minute of silence passes, as connor watches y/n's eyes flicker between his own.

he removes the washcloth from her face, only to wet it again and bring it back to her skin.

as y/n continued to stare at connor, only one thought consumed her mind. it was now or never as she let her lips move faster than her brain could stop them.

"do you ever think we're more than best friends?"

the question catches connor off gaurd. but before he can even think of a response, y/n's lips once again move faster than her liking.

"'cause i want to be more than your best friend."

y/n isn't sure where this newfound confidence is coming from, and she only swears at herself when she realize connor still hasn't answered. the last thing she ever wanted to do was make anything awkward between them, and now she's sure he's going to be walking out of—

connor's lips were on hers.

the washcloth was still pressed against her face, connor's other hand was now resting on her upper thigh, and his soft lips were on hers.

y/n's eyes were wide as he began to pull away. however she didn't want the feeling to ever end, causing her to grab his face in both of her hands and pull him to her again.

connor dropped the washcloth, making both of his hands now holding onto her thighs.

their lips were molding against one another, yet clashing to fight dominance at the same time. it was a kiss filled with many emotions. so many emotions that have been pushed down or to the side the past year, that needed to be opened.

y/n's hands moved to connor's hair, pulling slightly at the strands causing him to moan against her lips.

tongues soon started fighting, making the two more and more out of breath.

as the began pulling away, their panted breaths mingled between them as their flushed faces were only inches apart.

"i've liked you the second i saw you in that blackhawks meeting," y/n admitted, remembering the time she first saw connor after they were chosen as the 2023 rookies.

connor chuckles as his hands comfortingly rub up and down y/n's thighs, "i've liked you since the draft babe."

he simply leans in to kiss her again, but y/n hesitates.

"as much as i love kissing you, and would do anything to do it again, can you finish cleaning my cheek first?" she asks sweetly.

"oh shit, yeah, i'm sorry," connor is quick to start finishing his first aid job.

as soon as he completes taping the new gauze pad over the skin, y/n pulls him down to her by the collar of his hoodie, giggling at his surprised yet turned on moan against her lips.

[halsteadlover]

𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐘𝐨𝐮

*Pics not mine credits to the owner*

• Pairing: Connor Rhodes x Female!Reader.

• Requested by anon: Reader is a nurse and while she’s on duty someone man from the or goes crazy because he wants to be threaded immediately and she tries to calm him down, but he loses his mind and with a pocket knife he has he accidentally hurts her cutting her on her face after which he’s escorted out by the security. Connor and reader are together and as soon as he hears about the incident, he run to her all worried. He cleans her wound.

• Warnings: brief mention of blood, wounds, use of knife, curse words, let me know if I missed something.

• Word count: 3453.

• A/N: it’s been a while since I post and I hate how this turned out bye, please have mercy on me, university is kicking my ass and I have to study for my last exams so I’m trying to write something between lunch break and during the evening. I know it’s not so good 😭 but beside that I missed you all so much, I hope you’re all aright ❤️

A sudden noise caught your attention, making you turn your head towards the entrance of the ER.

The morning seemed relatively quiet, there were patients in the waiting room, doctors and nurses doing their normal work.

You looked around before heading towards the waiting room where you had heard the commotion and noticed a man standing in the middle of the room, a pocket knife in his hand that he was waving vehemently. He was completely out of his mind.

“I want a doctor! Now!” He shouted while all the other terrified patients started running away..

“Sir, put that knife down! Right now!” exclaimed the security guard.

“I’m fucking sick! I want a doctor right now or I’ll kill you all!”

“Sir please,” you spoke in a calm and gentle tone, taking small steps towards him, your hands clearly visible to show him you weren’t a threat, that you wouldn’t do anything to him.

“Y/Ln please stay back, I’ll take care of this,” the guard spoke but you didn’t listen. You couldn’t just turn around and walk away as if nothing was happening.

“I’m a nurse,” you continued while keeping your gaze on the enraged man, “How about you put the knife down and I call a doctor right now? You could come with me to one of the rooms while a doctor comes to examine you.”

“Stay back you bitch! I want a doctor now!” he shouted even louder than before and you swallowed the lump in your throat.

Despite your outward calm, your heart was pounding with fear, especially when the man continued to wave that knife around like it was a toy. You mentally breathed a sigh of relief as you saw the last patient had run away.

“Sir, can you tell me your name please?” You continued. “Do you have your medical records with you so we can take a look at it?”

He approached you in a threatening manner and you spontaneously took a few steps back before the guard stood in front of you to protect you.

“I just called the police, you have five minutes to leave or I will have you arrested immediately.”

At those words the man seemed to get even angrier, something you hadn’t even thought was possible. You let out a scream as the man threw himself on Dave – the guard – who was taken by surprise and got hit.

You only realized what had happened afterwards. Only when you saw Dave’s white uniform shirt turn red you realized he had been stabbed.

You didn’t know what was going through your mind at that moment. You only knew you wanted to get that man off of Dave.

You lunged at him, trying to grab the knife from his hand, which allowed the attacker to take his attention off Dave for a moment, though to your detriment, since it ended up on you.

You screamed as he fell on top of you. Your hands tried to keep his arm away from you but you couldn’t stop him from cutting your cheek.

It burned like a motherfucker but it wasn’t the time to think about the pain, not when that bastard was about to kill you.

“Hey! Get off her!” You heard voices shouting and mentally sighed in relief when you no longer felt his weight on your body. You immediately moved away from him, sliding further back on the floor as you sat up, only to see Will and other doctors and nurses holding the man down and injecting what you assumed was a sedative into his arm.

Your chest rose and fell rapidly, adrenaline coursing through your veins.

“Y/n! Oh god are you okay?” Will asks immediately after walking over to you and helping you up.

You nodded. “Dave… He was stabbed…”

“They already brought him in. He’s on his way to the OR.”

You looked over to where the guard had been lying and only then you realized he was indeed gone. When had they taken him away?

“Are you okay? You hurt?”

“I’m fine.”

Will’s eyes widened as he focused on your cheek. “Shit, you’re not fine. He cut your face.”

You touched your cheek and when you looked at your blood-stained fingertips, you remembered that he had actually hit you.

“It’s just a scratch, I’m fine.”

“Rhodes is going to lose his shit,” Will muttered in a low voice as he looked at your wound. “Come on, I’ll disinfect it. It doesn’t look deep enough to need stitches.”

But Will was right.

Connor really lost his shit.

After years it was no secret you two were together. Everyone knew how protective he was of you and this had often sparked jokes, pranks and teasing from your friends who did nothing but mock him for his overprotectiveness.

He was in the OR closing up a patient after a routine surgery when he heard the interns murmuring something.

“What are you whispering about?” He asked, not being able to make out what they were saying.

“Uhm…” One of them cleared their throat, “We heard there was an attack in the ER, a man with a knife went nuts.”

Connor’s eyes immediately snapped to them, the forceps and suture in his hand frozen, almost about to fall, and even though most of his face was obscured by his mask, his eyes quickly showed his emotions.

His first thought was you.

He knew you were on duty that morning and he couldn’t help but let his nerves heat up.

“Was anyone hurt?” he asked, trying to keep his voice calm and his hands steady as he finished stitching up the patient. There was no need to freak out. You were fine, if anything happened someone would’ve called him.

“I don’t know how many people, I just heard that a security guard was injured but they’re already treating him, he should be in surgery right now.”

Connor nodded, his throat tight as he concentrated on finishing the surgery. He tried to keep his focus solely on the patient because even though the surgery was almost over, the patient deserved nothing less than one hundred percent of his attention. He couldn’t afford to be distracted since complications were always around the corner.

“Someone page Nurse Y/Ln,” he ordered, his eyes on the patient as he stitched even though his mind was racing. He needed to hear your voice, to know you were really fine.

No one answered and there was a moment of silence. It was only a moment but to him it felt like an eternity.

“Now!” He raised his voice, letting the anger, worry, and crippling anxiety he was feeling shine through.

“Dr. Rhodes, we already tried to page her but she’s not answering,” a nurse said fearfully, terrified of his reaction.

“Fuck,” he cursed through gritted teeth. “Someone go find her then instead of standing there like idiots!”

Everyone exchanged a look and the intern who had spoken earlier immediately left the OR, running towards the emergency room. The entire hospital knew how much he doted on you, how he lived for you only, how much he loved you, how crazy he was for you, so they were all holding their breath while waiting for some kind of update.

Silence reigned in the OR, Connor didn’t bother to show the residents what he was doing, he just kept stitching the patient.

His voice was flat, almost like a robot, his hands was steady, his back straight, but only he knew how anxiety was twisting his stomach almost making him threw up. “Keep page her, I want to know where the hell my fiancée is!” was all he exclaimed.

“Nothing yet, doctor.”

“Dr. Blake went to check and he’ll be here shortly, but just take a breath, everything will be fine,” a nurse allowed herself to say and he looked up to glare at her.

“That’s my fiancée we’re talking about, my future wife, it’ll be fine only when I hear from her,” he spat venomously and she nodded – not wanting to contradict him when he wasn’t thinking clearly – before he turned his attention back to the patient.

He hated this situation.

He wasn’t giving his full attention to the surgery and he hated that.

Please god let her be okay.

Only five minutes had passed since the intern had left but to him it seemed like years went by and only when he saw him return he momentarily breathed a sigh of relief.

Everyone’s faces were covered by masks but Connor only had to look into the intern’s eyes, even if only for a couple of seconds, to understand the news weren’t as good as he had hoped. He knew that look, he had used it hundreds of thousands of times to communicate unpleasant news to the patient’ families.

“Where is she?” he asked abruptly, alternating his gaze between the intern and the patient.

“She’s fine sir, doctor... She...” he paused briefly and sighed, “She was slightly hurt, but she’s fine, I swear she’s fine... She’s alert and only has a small wound. She asked me to tell you to stay calm and just focus on the surgery…”

But Connor didn’t hear anything that resident said except those three words.

She was hurt.

You had been hurt.

“Fucking hell.”

“The attacker has been sedated and handcuffed to the bed and they’re waiting for the cops,” he continued, trying somehow to reassure Connor. “Dr. Rhodes, seriously, it’s just a small graze I saw it and she’s fine you understand? She’s fine.”

He didn’t answer.

He was silent for the rest of the surgery, not saying a single word.

But as soon as he was out of the OR, Connor literally flew to the emergency room, his cap still in his hand.

He needed to see you, he needed to know you were actually fine.

“April, where’s Y/n?” he asked as soon as he got to the nurses' station.

“She’s okay, Dr. Rhodes...”

“Where the hell is my fiancée?!” He cut her off abruptly, raising his voice and not even letting her finish her sentence. He didn’t mean to be rude but he was out of his mind in that moment and didn’t care about anything or anyone that weren’t you.

She pointed to trauma room one and he ran there before she could say or do anything else. He jerked the closed curtain open and his heart stopped when he saw you sitting on the bed.

“Baby…” he breathed out as if he had taken a breath of oxygen for the first time after hours when he realized – even if it took him too many endless seconds in his opinion – that you were actually fine, you were awake, alert and looking at him with a scared expression.

“Connor, baby, I’m…” you started but it was as if he was in a state of shock. Connor seemed to have realized that Will was there only after endless moments and that he was taking care of the wound on your face.

“Will, I’ll take care of it now, thanks,” he spoke, his eyes never leaving yours. Will nodded, realizing it was time to leave the two of you alone, and tossed away the gauze he was using to clean your wound before leaving the room, closing the curtain again.

“Baby I swear I’m fine, it’s just a little scratch…”

He came closer and before he could say something his arms were already around your body and he was holding you close to his chest. He hugged you so tightly as if it was the first time in years that he saw you again.

He felt your arms return his hug, rest on his back and caress him gently and it was only then that he had finally regained some sense.

You were fine, you were really fine.

You were hugging him.

But he was about to collapse on the ground, his legs feeling like jelly.

“Who did this to you?” he whispered while his lips print kisses at the top of your head, deeply inhaling the scent of your shampoo as if it was oxygen and he had been deprived of it.

“I don’t know who that man was. He just… He really was out of his mind, he wanted immediate care and he wouldn’t listen to anyone. Everyone run away. We tried to calm him down but he had a knife… Dave was hurt…” you finished the last sentence with a sob, bursting into tears there in Connor’s arms, your lifeline and right that second, as he held you, you knew everything would be alright.

“Where is he? I’ll kill that son of a bitch with my own hands,” he furiously retorted and started to move away from you but you held him back by his uniform. “No, no, no please baby… Please don’t leave me, stay here with me.”

You looked at him with those big eyes of yours, filled with tears, a destroyed expression on your face and Connor held you again, squeezing his eyes closed in an attempt to stay calm and not go crazy.

“Shh, I’m not going anywhere, I’m not leaving you okay? I’m here with you. It’s okay my love, you’re okay, Dave also will be okay too,” he kept whispering as you cried in his arms.

“I was so… I was so scared…”

His heart tightened with pain as he heard your voice broken by tears. Very few other times in his life he had been so angry and all of those the times were about his father or something that had happened to you.

“I know baby but it’s over, you’re safe now. I won’t let anything happen to you again you hear me? You’re safe,” he kept whispering, trying to keep a sweet and calm tone even though he was shaking so much he was about to have a seizure.

He couldn’t even imagine what you felt in those moments, how scared you felt but despite this tried to stop the attacker. He hated knowing all this was happening a few steps away from him, he hated he hadn’t been there to protect you.

God only knew how he would’ve killed anyone on this planet just to prevent a single scratch from scarring you.

He pulled away from the hug and literally felt his stomach twist on itself when he saw the cut on your cheek. He stroked your hair gently, trying to calm you down.

“You were so good and so brave, I’m so proud of you baby you know that right?” He kissed your forehead, a small smile gracing his lips as he looked into your tear-filled eyes.

You nodded.

“But I’d rather you let someone else with experience do this job okay? I can’t stand the thought of you getting hurt, please promise me.”

“I promise.”

He kissed your forehead again, his eyes closed for a moment and stayed in that position for a while as if trying to convince himself it wasn’t just a dream.

“Now, let me take care of your wound is it okay?” He continued and you nodded. He disinfected his hands and put on some gloves.

He tried to stop his fingers from shaking but he couldn’t, he tried to convince himself it was over but he just couldn’t. It was as if his mind couldn’t really thinking about anything that wasn’t the fact he really risked to lose you, that you might’ve been in Dave’s place, that son of a bitch might’ve taken away from him.

He took a deep breath, turning his back to you so as not to make you worry even more than you already were.

Connor approached you again and gently took your face in one hand, turning your head slightly so he could observe the wound. Luckily it wasn’t deep, it didn’t even need stitches, but that didn’t make him feel any better. It was just a reminder he wasn’t there to protect you.

“It’s going to sting a little.”

“I know baby, don’t worry.”

He could feel your eyes on him as he tried to stay focused and disinfect your cheek, but he didn’t look back, he knew he’d break down and you didn’t need that after what you went through.

His free hand rested on your healthy cheek as he drew imaginary circles on your skin, completely involuntarily.

“Baby?”

“Yes, love?”

“You’re shaking,” you whispered.

He let out a small sigh before sightly stepping away and turning his back to you. His fingers were shaking and he felt terribly guilty for being the one to have that reaction, because you were the one in that horrible situation, you were the one who had faced that crazy guy and you were the one who got hurt.

But he was the one who was at risk of losing you and the thought of it took the air from his lungs, it made him unable to breathe.

Was it dramatic? Probably yes. But he didn’t care. Knowing something had happened to you was destroying him.

“Baby, hey, talk to me.”

Your sweet and gentle tone made his eyes fill with tears, but he didn’t want to cry, not right there in front of you. He felt your fingers curl around his, as if to encourage him to turn towards you again.

“C’mon, look at me,” you spoke again when he continued to pretend to look and analyze your wound.

He then met your eyes, full of concern, and he couldn’t hold back any longer, letting a tear escape down his cheek.

“I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t be the one crying,” he tried to ease the tension. His heart exploded when you smiled at him and placed a hand on his cheek, wiping away the tears that had escaped with your thumb.

“Look at me carefully, okay?” You urged. “I’m fine, love, nothing happened…”

“I know, I know,” he smiled through silent tears, “But it literally hurts my heart to know you are in danger, even if it’s just for a second. God baby, you really don’t understand how much my existence depends on you, how much I would give my life just for you to be safe. I would die if anything happened to you and…” He sniffed. “T-the fact I wasn’t there to help you and protect you… It makes me feel so sick I can’t breathe.” He put a hand on his chest, right there where it hurt so bad. You put your hand on his as the other one continued to wipe away his tears. “I was so fucking scared.”

In response you tugged at the collar of his uniform and kissed him, both of you tasting the saltiness of your tears. “I love you so much Connor, god, I love you so fucking much. I don’t know what I’d do without you,” you whispered against his lips and he kissed you again till both of you couldn’t breathe, before pulling away and hugging you again.

“I love you so much more.” Connor rested his cheek at the top of your head as he held you, constantly leaving kisses on your hair and being especially careful not to touch your bruised cheek. “I swear, I will lock you in a cellar and throw away the key for all the heart attacks you give me. How the hell do you always end up in these situations?”

You let out a small laugh, relieved that he had calmed down. “Faults of being an ER nurse, you always meet crazy people.”

“Well I’ll ask to change your department. How about gynecology? Oh wait, dermatology is even better.”

You pulled away from him, tilting your head slightly so you could look him in the face. “I know you would never do that.”

He sighed, stroking your hair and drying the tears on your face. “No, but locking yourself in a cellar? Absolutely, I can’t die of a heart attack before I’m forty.”

“Look at you Dr. Rhodes, so worried about your fiancée.”

He gave you a fake glare. “I don’t play about you baby, I think I scared the crap out of the surgical team, they probably think I’m batshit crazy now. Worrying about you is an understatement.”

You giggle, imagining the way he was barking orders and shouting in the OR. “You’re really the best thing that has ever happened to me you know that right? I’m so glad I can always count on you.”

“Always baby, I’m always with you.” He smiled softly before kissing the tip of you nose. “How about we put a band-aid on this so we can get out of here?” He then kissed your forehead and you smiled again.

“Get out of here? But our shift isn’t over yet.”

“I’m sure Goodwin will understand the circumstances, I have no other scheduled surgeries and if they need a surgeon, Dr. Latham is available. I just want to go home and hold you until you’re out of breath. Plus you’re still shaking and I want you to rest.”

You slightly smiled again and nodded, without even thinking about it twice. “I’m in, Dr. Rhodes.”

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TIME TO PRETEND

pairing: luke castellan x gn!poseidon!reader word count: 5k chapter summary: you're the eldest child of poseidon and the hero of the last great prophecy. you left your demigod life behind after defeating kronos. now, years later, you find yourself back at camp half blood for the summer.....which means dealing with luke castellan, and all that history (tension?) left unresolved between you. warnings: some nicknames for reader are based on female characters (mermista, sailor neptune) but they're still written as gender neutral. reader has tattoos. mention of alcohol + death (post-titan war). spoilers for the entire pjo (book) series, mostly references to the last olympian. timeline is all over the place but set in the early 2000s for vibes. no betrayal (au where chris was the one who sided w kronos and led the titan army) so slightly ooc luke <3 author's note: welcome to another product of my pjo hyperfixation !!! i wanted to finish the nemesis!reader series first but it's summer and i felt like reworking my tsitp series in a camp half-blood setting with bb luke. so prepare for childhood friends to lovers drama! summertime vibes! nostalgia! angst! would love to know what y'all think about this and if you want a part 2 so feel free to scream at me in the comments. otherwise, enjoy and thanks 4 reading 💙

♪: time to pretend by mgmt

YOU’VE GOT MAIL!

1 new message 

from: LukeNotSkywalker

to: Mermista86

subject: you are GETTING that record deal

Hey,

Your demo CD just came in the mail — and, Connor as my witness, I’ve already listened to it five times!!! 

It’s amazing. You’re amazing. The label would totally lose out if they didn’t sign you. 

Things have been pretty chaotic around here, with the summer term happening soon. Speaking of which: are you coming back? Chiron gave me the list of returning campers and counsellors this morning and said he hadn’t heard from you, so I thought I’d ask. I know you’ll be busy with the band, but if you get the chance, it’d be really great to see you.

Anyways, I’m leading the next Shield & Sword session, so I’d better go. Talk soon ;)

- L

FOUR YEARS LATER

TURBULENT WATERS? ALT-ROCK BAND MIDNIGHT SIRENS HIT ROUGH PATCH AFTER LEAD GUITARIST GETS INTO VIOLENT ALTERCATION 

the cover is the nail in the coffin: a blurry picture of you, an electric blue guitar forgotten at your feet, lunging forward into a crowd, with your bandmates on stage behind you in shock. 

you’d gone all this time without any major incidents, and one stupid chimera managed to burn down everything you worked for in one fell swoop.

“that’d be $8.50,” the cashier informs. 

you tear your attention away from the magazine, instead fishing through your pocket for some change. meanwhile, the cashier furrows their brow, leans down slightly to get a better look at you underneath your sunglasses and baseball cap. 

“hey, do i know you?”

“nope,” you say instantly, slapping a $10 bill onto the counter. “keep the change.” you gather your pile of necessary roadtrip supplies (slushies, m&m’s, and goldfish) before rushing out the door, your half-brother trailing behind you.

you slide into the driver’s seat, set each slushie in a cup holder, and hand the rest to percy once he’s slipped into the passenger side. 

“seatbelt,” you remind him. you shake your hair out after removing your baseball cap disguise. “i promised your mom i’d be responsible.” 

percy does as he’s told, though not without mumbling about how he’s practically an adult and a demigod who’s been in much more dangerous situations than a car ride up to long island. you just tell him to put on some music, even though he has a point. he’ll be 18 in august and you’re only five years older, but the fact is that you gave sally jackson your word. 

plus — you’re his older sibling, so gods forbid you let him get hurt. a seatbelt seems like a band-aid solution for one of the most powerful demigods out there, but still.

percy flips through a few radio stations while he sips his blue raspberry slushie. when he doesn’t find anything good, he opens the glove compartment and surveys your music collection before sliding a cd into the stereo. 

instantly, the familiar sound of david bowie’s voice eases the tension in your shoulders.

“good choice?” 

you nod and percy smiles triumphantly. you reach over to steal a few goldfish from the bag he just opened and ruffle his hair playfully, for good measure. 

you’re perfectly happy, driving along a long island highway while getting lost in the glam rock world of ziggy stardust, but it isn’t long until percy interrupts: 

“are you finally gonna tell me what happened, or do i have to read it from some trashy gossip magazine like everyone else?”

“well, your dyslexic ass can barely read so….”

you look over at him briefly, and laugh when you see him stick his slightly-blue tongue out to you. 

“at least my dyslexic ass is actually decent at ancient greek. luke told me you failed the reading test, like, a million times.”

your heart twinges at the mention of your old friend. 

friend.

if you could still call him that. 

thankfully, percy doesn’t give you much room to dwell on the past, too focused on your drama-filled present.

“so, what is it? you got kicked out of the band? lost everything? have nowhere else to go?”

you roll your eyes at his dramatics. “i did not get kicked out.” 

“then, what happened?”

“just the usual.” you shrug. “monster attack, mortals who can’t see through the mist. i tried to explain it away after — something about how i saw someone in the crowd attack another person and i stepped in to help. most people bought it, but the media loves drama and the label’s worried i’m a flight risk now. apparently, everything will blow over if i just keep a low profile for the next few months. so….no. i didn’t lose everything.” you take a deep, like when anyone other than children of poseidon are about to go underwater and they’re not quite sure when they can come up for air. 

“i just don’t really have anywhere else to go,” you finish.

“damn.” percy offers you a blue shark gummy (or whale - you and percy had already debated the shape of the candy that sally packed for the trip, and the jury’s still out). you gratefully accept. “well, i know it’s not the best reason, but i’m excited to spend the summer together.”

despite everything, you find yourself smiling. 

“me too, kid.” 

“it’d give me a chance to kick your ass in sword-fighting.”

“you wish!” you nudge his shoulder, both of you giggling. once the laughter’s died down, you glance at percy once more. “hey – did you tell anyone i was coming?”

percy shakes his head. “why?”

you take a long swig of your drink until you’re on the brink of brain freeze. 

“no reason.”

it’s just after lunch when you arrive at camp half-blood. 

you weren’t sure what you were expecting — maybe not some futuristic technological developments that had been discovered within the years you were gone, but definitely not for camp to look pretty much exactly the same as when you left. 

instantly, you find comfort in the familiar scenes: a dragon, peleus, guarding the magical borders; dryads and satyrs picking strawberries in the fields next to the forest; chiron standing near the central guidepost, greeting and guiding every camper in the right direction.

chiron smiles down at percy and practically does a double take when his eyes land on you.

“mx. l/n! it has been a while. are you here to drop off your brother, or do you plan on staying for the summer?”

before you can answer, someone appears behind him. 

“perce! hey!” 

“hey, luke.”

luke gives him a side hug, and percy shoves him away with a laugh when he ruffles his hair. it’s then that luke acknowledges you, though he looks like that’s the last thing he wants to do.

“i thought i’d never see you again. what are you doing here? ”

chiron turns to you expectedly. “i believe you have yet to answer that question of mine as well.”

“staying for the summer…” you adjust the shoulder strap of your backpack, uneased by luke’s cold demeanor. “i hope that’s okay.”

“of course!” chiron’s smile grows wide, eyes crinkling. “you’ll resume your position as head counsellor of cabin 3.”

“so i’m dethroned? just like that?” percy guffaws.

you nudge percy’s shoulder. “fulfill the next great prophecy, and then we’ll talk.” 

percy rolls his eyes playfully. luke, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to appreciate your tongue-in-cheek remark. his jaw tightens, and he suddenly finds a deep interest in the clipboard he’s holding.

chiron clears his throat, likely sensing the tension. “yes, well, i’m sure you remember how things work around here. if not, mr. castellan has been keeping this ship afloat. he's always here to help.”

“always.” luke smiles, but it’s elastic, threatening to snap at any moment. someone calls his name, and he walks away to deal with whatever chaos is waiting for him.

summer — age 15

you weren’t exactly conscious when you first arrived at camp half-blood. 

apparently, coach hedge, a satyr and protector, found you just in time and had to practically drag you up half-blood hill after a particularly gruesome fury attack. 

when you woke up and saw luke sleeping next to you in a chair, his curls overgrown and falling onto his eyes, you thought you had died and gone to elysium. 

you took in your unfamiliar surroundings. some sort of infirmary, with only your best friend next to you, the one you hadn’t seen in almost a year since you’d parted ways. 

then, you remembered what was happening before you passed out; it was more likely that you were being tricked into a false sense of security by that fury, who definitely planned on devouring you later.

with a newfound sense of urgency, you decided it was time to get out of there before it was too late. you were reaching for your knife when you felt a hand grab your shoulder. without losing a second, you twisted your body around, weapon at the ready.

whoever it was watching over you sure looked like luke. he was wearing a bright orange shirt and leather cord necklace with one clay bead. another point of difference was the jagged scar that cut across his left cheek.

“it’s just me,” he said, gently. “you’re fine here. you’re safe.”

you weren’t convinced, kept your knife in front of you to keep distance. “prove it.” you narrowed your eyes. “tell me something only luke would know.”

“you’re left-handed.”

“that’s a great observation,” you scoff.

“storm is your favourite x-men character.”

“that’s a very popular opinion.”

“your aunt would make us mango lassi after swim camp when she got home from work,” luke tries for the third time. “and, my mom - she used to call you ‘starfish.’”

your heart skipped a beat.

that was the confirmation you needed. 

the knife dropped from your hand, clattered on the wooden floor, as you pulled luke in for a hug. you were greeted by a familiar scent, that pear shampoo luke loved because it made his hair so soft, mixed with the smell of fresh pine trees. 

“it’s really you,” you mumbled into his shoulder.

despite sleeping for gods know how long, you were exhausted. you rested your weight into luke, but he didn’t seem to care.

“it’s really you. i thought i’d never see you again.”

“where are we?” you asked, breaking away to face luke. you ignored the wooziness you felt throughout your body; luke seemed to sense it, his grip around you tightening. “are annabeth and thalia here, too? how’d you get here?” your thumb traced the unfamiliar scar on his face. “what happened? are you okay —”

“i-i’ll answer all your questions, but you lost a lot of blood.” luke guided you to lay back down in bed. “we’ll explain everything. just get some rest.”

a third scenario entered your mind: this was all a dream. you’d close your eyes and when you opened them again, luke would be gone. you’d be alone again.

you couldn’t let go of luke’s hand, even as he tucked you back into bed. you tugged his wrist, silently urging him to join you.

“will you stay with me?” you finally croaked when he continued standing. 

luke looked at you, and you nodded once as final confirmation. then, he removed his shoes and slipped into the bed next to you. it was luke, all sweet pear and soft curls and strong heartbeat, and you held on to him in fear that he might slip away.

“always,” he whispered.

during the orientation video you were later shown, you learned that camp half-blood’s motto is keeping young heroes safe (mostly) for over three millennia!  

luke had used that word, too. safe.

chiron told you this was to be your new home as he walked you to the poseidon cabin. he told you that you were safe now, though you noticed how the word almost got caught in his throat. he gave you a sad smile you didn’t quite understand.

you did wonder, at first, if those words were true: this place, a home for you and other children of gods. somewhere safe.

and, well.

you came to understand chiron’s general melancholy a few weeks later, and every week after that. he was used to training and sending heroes off to their potential death, and you would be no different. stolen lightning bolts, deadly quests, cryptic prophecies. a pending war between divine forces you had been entangled with long before you knew. heartache and betrayal and loss beyond measure. 

but, there were other things, too. 

annabeth, fitting in perfectly at the athena cabin, continued being her genius self, leading her team to victory every capture the flag game. she was extra patient in helping you with ancient greek, especially after chiron had given up.

chris rodriguez, luke’s half-brother, would tell you jokes from across the dining pavilion, knowing that you hated sitting alone at the poseidon table. michael yew, son of apollo, taught you how to play guitar at the bonfire one week; you’d ask for more and more lessons until you could start playing on your own. charles beckendorf made you a celestial bronze sword that shone like that burst of light when the sun hits the ocean at sunset. it transformed into a ring that you would never take off, unless in battle. you might not have gotten along with mr. d, but you spent free time picking fresh strawberries with his son, castor. you made matching friendship bracelets with silena beauregard, who was really the only person you confided in, about how you maybe possibly felt something other than friendship when it came to luke. she told you about her crush on clarisse larue, the daughter of ares whom you would always partner with during sparring practice. you taught ethan nakamura, who didn’t have his own cabin as the child of nemesis, how to properly hold a sword. thalia’s tree stood tall at the top of the hill where you almost bled to death, protecting you and everyone inside the magical borders. you, annabeth, and luke would share a picnic there every thursday.

you had been on the run for so long, always looking over your shoulder for monsters, sleeping with one eye open to be one step ahead of death, jumping from one place to the next so quickly to avoid danger.

so, yes. 

it was nice to stay in one place, where you knew you were as safe as demigods could be. it was nice to spend your time learning and training and laughing instead of just surviving. 

it was nice to have a place to call home. and people to call it home with.

now 

the first week passes in the blink of an eye, and it’s like you never left.

tie-dye, volleyball, strawberry picking, kitchen duty, and cabin inspection. 

luke has everyone on a tight schedule — one, you notice, conveniently places the two of you at opposite ends of camp at all times.

still, you catch up with clarisse and the stoll brothers, spend time with annabeth and percy, say hi to pollux and katie gardner and others you vaguely recognize as five years older than what you remember. there are also a lot of faces you don’t recognize at all.

of course, you try not to think about the faces you wished you could see: friends you grew up with and would never have a laugh with again, younger campers you had trained who would never grow up. all lost because of the gods and the titans and a prophecy you never asked to be a part of. 

it’s a side effect of being back here; their ghosts are harder to ignore.

again — trying not to think about it.

anyways.

climbing wall, armory, sword-fighting practice, archery field, and free time on the beach.

to conclude: capture-the-flag, a friday night camp-half blood tradition.

you’re praising annabeth for her latest strategy that led to blue team victory when you notice luke. he was also on the blue team, but instead of celebrating with the rest of you, he’s speaking to someone who’s wearing a red helmet. they seem to be in a heated discussion, one that luke is not wanting to continue. his tells are the same, after all these years: the impatient tapping of his foot, his eyes searching for an out.

you give it to him.

“sorry, i need to borrow this guy.” you say, grabbing luke’s wrist. “camp emergency.” 

if the person said anything, you didn’t hear it, because you were already dragging luke away from the crowd, towards the armory shed. 

“what’s the emergency?” luke wonders, brows furrowed in concern. he has deep shadows under his eyes, too. keeping the ship that is camp half-blood afloat has clearly taken a toll on him. 

“you wanting to get out of that conversation. you’re welcome.” you wink at him; luke flushes, and you’re not sure if it’s because he’s annoyed, or if he's just flustered. “so, are you gonna keep ignoring me the whole summer?”

you put your helmet on one of the shelves and turn back to luke. you expected him to start removing his armor as well, but he doesn’t. he just glares at you, arms crossed over his chest.

so, he’s annoyed, then. 

“what do you expect?” luke hisses. “you can’t come back here and pretend that everything can be like it was when we were kids. things are different now, especially between us.”

you decide to take him up on his challenge. 

“oh? tell me, luke, what exactly is different between us?”

luke shakes his head in disbelief. you remove your chest plate, and that’s when the tattoo on your waist becomes visible. it’s a magnolia, like one of the flowers that bloomed on the tree outside may castellan’s house. 

something in luke softens, then. he sighs. 

“you could have at least given me a warning.”

he storms off, and you’re left half-armored, wondering what he meant by that.

you figure it out once a few of you settle down for a late-night, underground poker game, and you’re trying not to stare at luke’s hands.

it starts with you telling yourself that you’re just trying to predict what cards he’s holding, figure out if he’s bluffing, and if he’s about to lose everything he’d so confidently bet on. 

but then you notice the silver thumb ring that thalia got him for his 17th birthday. you notice an array of hair ties and elastic bands he keeps just in case a camper needs them, and woven bracelets given to him by his admirers. you notice how the tattoo on his wrist is covered. (it’s hidden well, but you know it’s there — you’d gotten one of a wing, the kind that might be found on a pair of magical red converse, at the same time)

you also notice the forest green painted on luke’s nails, the same shade worn by the person beside him.

van, the new head counsellor of the hephaestus cabin. you’d seen them at staff meetings, but you somehow did not notice that they were dating luke. 

he moved on — is that why luke needed a warning? is that what's changed between you?

it’s fine. whatever. so what if luke has a new partner? it’s not like the two of you were anything, officially. 

luke has a new partner. they’re wearing matching nail polish. they’re one of those couples.

well, van is also wearing a nickleback shirt and luke hates nickleback, unless that fundamental part of his personality changed, too. 

“yo, sailor neptune. you in or not?” travis brings you out of your daze, by using a nickname luke once called you.

back before becoming heroes, when you and luke were just kids, you’d watch cartoons in his living room on saturday mornings — x-men, she-ra: princess of power, teenage mutant ninja turtles, sailor moon. a lifetime ago.

you look around the table and see that everyone has been waiting for you to take your turn. even luke raises an eyebrow at you.

“yeah.” you clear your throat and throw some chips into the centre. “i’m in.”

you have decent enough cards to keep you in the game, and you’re comfortable that you can play the odds in your favor. the stoll brothers are good liars, you know that, and so is luke. malcolm pace is good at strategy, but thankfully not as good as his half-sister annabeth. pollux, who had invited you to the game, already folded along with butch, the son of iris who has a rainbow tattoo on his bicep to prove it. beside you, lou ellen, daughter of the hecate, contemplates her next move. clovis has fallen asleep, true to their title as head counsellor of the hypnos cabin. you can’t get a read on van, but they keep raising the stakes so confidently, and you’ve always liked a good challenge.

soon enough, it’s only you and van in the bet. when it comes time to reveal your cards, you curse yourself for overplaying your hand.

“good game,” van says to you as they collect their winnings. “you really had me going there.” 

“yeah.” your smile is strained, but it’s there nonetheless. “tried my best.”

“guess the curse of achilles doesn’t help as much in poker as it does in capture the flag.” 

“excuse me?” you raise an eyebrow.

luke, who had one arm casually draped around van’s chair the entire game, pulls away. “van, maybe don’t —”

“it’s not like it’s a secret, luke. they’re the prophecy kid, everyone knows they bathed in the river styx to be able to fight kronos. it’s camp legend.”

other than you, luke, and van, everyone else is occupied with something else. connor busies himself shuffling the cards, while lou ellen, malcolm, and pollux get up for more drinks. it seems like butch and travis have their own bet going to see who can balance the most chips on clovis’ forehead without waking him up. 

van waits for an answer. you’re a little queasy, and it’s not from the wine pollux managed to snag from his dad’s office. you’re suddenly faced with the reality that your life is reduced to a legend. you try your best to swallow that feeling, of being made into a greek tragic hero while your heart is still beating, and your life is still a mess.

“that’s relevant, why?”

“just that some people might consider the invulnerability thing an unfair advantage in physical competitions like capture the flag,” van explains. “increased strength and all that.” 

“that would mean nothing without a good strategy,” you counter.

“that’s what i said,” luke grumbles. 

you recognize van now as the person luke was arguing with earlier. it must have been about this. 

about you. 

“okay, y’all were best friends, so luke is obviously going to take your side.”

you’re not sure what stings more: friends or were. 

“although, he never really talks about you, which is weird because you’re, like, famous in and outside camp.”

ouch. that definitely stings the most. luke winces slightly, almost like he feels it, too.

“alright, alright,” connor interjects, shuffling the cards in his hands. “another round?” 

you’re the only one who decides to call it a night. everyone says goodbye; even van, who’s blissfully unaware of the effect their words had on you. luke avoids your gaze. the game continues without you.

percy’s snoring provides enough cover as you sneak into your shared cabin. you try to sleep, but it doesn’t come easy. 

you feel the spot underneath your rib, the one spot you’re truly vulnerable, ache.

summer — age 17

for the first time in your life, you couldn’t breathe underwater. you were swimming in acid, and your skin was melting away.

at least, that’s what it felt like to bathe in the river styx. achilles could have mentioned that, but all he gave was a cryptic warning about anchoring yourself to what makes you mortal.

you really tried at first. you thought about your friends at camp. you thought about percy, about your aunt back when she was still around. you even thought about may castellan, burnt cookies and saturday mornings.

the pain was too much, though. 

you were forgetting where you were, who you were. with every passing second, you were dissolving into nothing.

“if you wanted to go for a swim, you should have told me. i would have worn my swimsuit.”

luke’s voice echoed across the waves. you tilted your head up to see him sitting on the dock above you, his feet dangling into the water. he had rolled up his jeans to just above his ankles so they didn’t get wet, but his shoes were still on, which was a bit strange. the sun made his eyes look like burnt amber, his teeth sparkling as he smiled at you. 

okay. cool.

you were at camp. it was mid-afternoon, free period. the two of you had been at the edge of the lake, until you became impatient and jumped in, fully clothed. behind him, you could see that annabeth, thalia, and percy were waiting for you on the shore. they were each wearing orange camp shirts, which was also strange; you couldn’t remember a time when you were all there together, as campers.

“we better go, sailor,” luke said, amusement laced throughout his words. “come on. those cabins aren’t gonna inspect themselves.”

luke extended his hand to you. when you hesitated, he added:

“i can’t do this without you. will you stay with me?”

you reached up and grabbed luke’s hand.

always.

you emerged from the water, catching your breath as you collapsed on the sand. 

“oh gods. are you okay?”

your cousin, nico diangelo, son of hades, knelt down next to you. he tried to check your pulse, but you waved him away. your eyes searched for luke, but he wasn’t there, despite feeling the ghost of his hand in your own. 

oh.

you weren’t at camp; you were in the underworld. it was nico’s idea for you to take on the curse of achilles so that you’d be strong enough to face kronos. 

“did it work?”

you got up, a bit uneasy on your feet at first. nico helped steady you, his hands cold on your skin.

you felt….stronger wasn’t the right word. you felt adrenaline coursing through your veins, like you could swim across the biggest ocean without pausing once. like you could defeat an entire army and not break a sweat. maybe even take down a titan or two while you're at it.

you needed to see luke again, to meet him and the others in manhattan before it was too late.

“let’s hope so.”

now

you always loved mornings at camp half-blood. the beach was particularly beautiful at sunrise, the water peaceful.

the morning after that impromptu poker game, you need that peacefulness to wash over you. you’re awake after a rather sleepless night, deciding to go for a quick run before breakfast. you get dressed and grab your mp3 player, as quietly as you can to avoid waking up percy (who, truthfully, could probably sleep through a hurricane anyways). 

you jog from one end of the beach to the other. you set a steady rhythm, somewhere between the beat of your music and the sound of waves gently washing over the shore. when you make your way back down to where you started, you notice someone sitting nearby.

luke doesn’t say anything when you first sit next to him. he’s wearing a dark blue hoodie over his usual orange shirt, a cigarette tucked behind his ear. you imagine that he confiscated it from a camper on the way here. 

“morning,” he finally whispers, eyes fixed towards the ocean. 

you shiver, and not just from the cool morning air. you’re reminded of the last time luke spoke to you so softly, the last time you’d caught an early morning sunrise together. such a contrast to where you are now.

“morning,” you finally reply. 

as the sound of waves fills the silence between you, luke surprises you by taking a lighter out of his pocket. he lights the cigarette and takes a puff. then, he hands it to you. 

it’s such an odd, though not unwelcomed, gesture. a peace offering, you figure, but it’s just so not luke that you can’t help yourself.

“is golden boy luke castellan, offering me contraband? what planet am i on?”

the hint of a smile creeps onto his face. “like i said: things are different now,” he echoes his words from the night before, but this time you don’t sense any hostility.

you take a drag of the cigarette. your fingers brush against his when you return it to him.

you decide to offer a peace offering as well, and present to him one of your earbuds — he accepts. you have to slide across the sand to move closer to him, but he doesn’t seem to mind. 

i’m feelin’ rough, i’m feeling raw / i’m in the prime of my life….

as the song plays, you glance to see luke nodding along, tapping a finger on his knee to the beat. he lets the cigarette smoulder in his other hand.

we’re fated to pretend / to pretend / yeah, yeah, yeah….

when the song is over, luke turns to you. 

“new group?” he brings the cigarette to his lips, then gives it back to you.

“kinda.” you inhale, letting the smoke warm your lungs before explaining. “this is considered they’re breakthrough album. they’re from connecticut, actually.”

“oh, yeah? guess that’s where all the talent is from.”

luke bumps his shoulder against yours knowingly. you feel your cheeks heat up at his praise, his witty sincerity.

this is familiar — you and luke, at the beach, sharing music. it’s familiar, and for a few moments, you can act like there isn’t a wall between you, of unresolved feelings and harsh words. you can pretend that nothing has changed.

“you know, nickleback are from connecticut, too. which means you just called them talented.”

luke coughs on some smoke as he exhales with a laugh. “what? no i didn’t!”

“in a roundabout way. i always knew you were an undercover fan,” you tease.

“i have better taste than that.”

“do you?”

“you’re fucking with me,” luke deadpans.

you crack a smile. “yeah, i’m fucking with you.”

“gods, you scared me for a second,” he laughs, and you can’t help but follow. luke glances at you and the sunshine highlights his smile, his dark brown curls, the ever-changing color of his eyes. golden, radiant. 

you shiver again, looking away. before you know it, you feel something draped across your shoulders.

“i’m not sure van would like it if i was wearing your hoodie.” you joke, but your words are laced with a bitterness you hope luke doesn’t catch. unlucky for you, luke still knows you too well, whether he likes it or not.

“you don’t get to do that.”

“do what?”

luke scoffs. “be jealous.” 

“well, you don’t get to tell me how to feel.”

“so, you are jealous?”

you exhale sharply; you can practically feel the wall between you two reappear.

“it’s too early, lu. and i’m too hungover to deal with this.”

there’s nothing more left to say. you get up, throw his hoodie on the sand, and walk back towards your cabin, the beach and luke further away with every step you take.

it makes sense that way: you were always the one to leave first.

[misctf]

Exploring the Tribes

“Dude! Way too much info.” Jeff made a face of disgust and took another swig of his beer, “I’m all for “love is love”, but I don’t wanna hear about your uhhh...”

“Look dude, it’s about time I get to brag. I’ve nearly fucked all the tribes on Grindr. On this vacation alone, bro.” Connor replied, “You and the rest of the guys get to brag about all the pussy you get, why can’t I...?”

“Damn I don’t know man. It’s just...” Jeff adjusted his cap and chugged the rest of his beer, “We’re on vacation with the rest of the bros. Of course we’re gonna talk about our scores.” Jeff smirked- with a body like his, he was scoring well, “I don’t doubt you’re getting plenty of dick. I just don’t want to hear about it.”

“Yeah, and I didn’t want to hear about that time you banged my sister, but here we are.”

Jeff smirked as he recounted the memory, “She has a great rack...” Connor punched his arm, “Fair I deserved that.”

“And I’m a top. I don’t take dick.”

“Whatever dude, can’t you just enjoy the beer?” Jeff sighed, “Besides, what the fuck is a tribe anyway?”

Connor chuckled, “Shit, I forget we make it complicated. It’s a way to describe gay guys. Well, at least their looks.” Jeff nodded, his mind drifting elsewhere, “Like, a bear is a hairy heavyset guy. A twink is usually more feminine and hairless. Like you.”

“Fuck off dude. Girls like it when my muscles are clean shaven.” Jeff shot back.

“Joking, you’re too muscular to be a twink.” Connor replied, “But dude, stay on topic. I’m so close to having fucked a guy in each tribe on this trip. Like just a few more. But I’ve had a really hard time finding an otter.”

Jeff chuckled, “That some kinda weird animal shit?”

“No, otters are like bears, but a lot skinnier.” Connor replied.

“And you want to hook up with one of these guys?” Jeff raised an eyebrow, “Skinny and hairy. What kinda guy would want that?” He flexed one of his biceps and grinned.  

“Well yeah, gotta complete the quest.” Connor shrugged, “But I haven’t come across one since we’ve been here.”

“Oh yeah?” Jeff chuckled, “I have a deal for you. If I find you an otter, you gotta stop talking to me about this shit for the rest of the trip.”

Connor laughed, “Yeah, okay bro.”

“No seriously. I’m a great wingman! Remember Chet and that sorority girl with the slutty tattoo? That was all me, bro.”

“Alright dude. I’ll play.” Connor chuckled, “And how are you going to find this otter?”

Jeff shrugged, “Hairy and slim. Fuck dude, I’ll find ‘em in no time.”

Connor smirked and slapped his friend on the back, “Well I appreciate it, dude. But I think I’ve already found one.”

“No fucking way man, where?” Jeff asked, looking around the bar.

“You can’t miss him. He’s pretty slim.”

Jeff continued to look around, barely noticing as his muscles started to deflate. It started in his legs- his well sculpted calves becoming thin and petite. He inadvertently put a hand on his abs as he felt his muscle twist and contract, just before they deflated, leaving his toned abdomen flat. Connor smirked as he watched Jeff’s pecs follow suit- the muscle behind them atrophying at an alarming rate.  

“I’ll miss those.” Connor chuckled.

“What was the dude?”

“Nothing man.” Connor watched as Jeff seemed to shorten as his back muscles shrunk into nothingness, “You haven’t noticed him yet?” He watched as Jeff’s muscular arms thinned out- years of training at the gym gone within just a few minutes.

“No I haven’t.” Jeff chuckled, “You sure you’re not seeing things, bro?”

“No, he’ right there.” Connor insisted.

Jeff’s eyes narrowed and he stood up to try and get a better view. But he wasn’t used to his new frame and nearly fell over as he tried to balance himself, “Fuck dude, I need to lay off the drinks.” Jeff looked at his skinnier arms, staring at them closely. Connor sipped his drink, watching Jeff trying to make sense of it, “Shit... dude... I...I look small?”

“No way, I think you look perfect the way you are.” Connor said, guiding Jeff back to his chair. Jeff blushed at his friend’s touch.

“Sh-shit dude.” Jeff shook his head, “I uh...” Something was wrong. He knew he wasn’t this skinny. As he looked closer at himself, he felt he was missing something. His pecs, his arms, his abs, “Fuck Connor, dude something is...”

“Dude stop distracting me! I’m trying to find that otter I was telling you about.” Connor smirked, “He has to be one of the hairiest guys I’ve seen.”

Jeff felt nauseous. With a grunt, he felt his skin come alive. It burned, only to be replaced by an itchiness that seemed to originate from each follicle of his clean-shaven skin. Relief came suddenly, but was short-lived. He watched with terrified eyes as hair emerged from the top of his bathing suit and traveled up his abdomen. The dark brown hair sprouting from his skin was curly and thick, moreso than anything he ever grew naturally. And as it climbed up his abdomen, thickening rapidly, it finally reached his pecs where it spread like wildfire.

“Ahhhhh.” Jeff moaned as he felt the hair climb around his ass and move up his back. Simultaneously, Jeff raised his hand to feel the thick beard forming along his face, “Connor, what the fuck?” He breathed out, sweat washing over his body and dampening his new fur. Connor grinned, yanking a clump of Jeff’s new arm hair.

“Dude, what’s the matter? You’re distracting me.” Connor complained, “Damn, if only you could see this otter now.” Jeff tensed as Connor rubbed a hand through the dense forest on his chest, “What did you say about guys who wear earrings?” Jeff winced in pain as his ears were stretched and two gauges embedded into his ear lobes, “Oh and remember that sorority girl? What did you say about her tattoos again?” Jeff winced again as tattoos carved themselves into his arms and legs, “And shit, what kinda guy would wear a speedo like that?” Jeff looked down at the yellow speedo that now barely covered his junk and hairy ass, “Oh right- according to you, those things would make someone gay and slutty, right?” Jeff’s eyes widened, “So I guess this otter I’m seeing must be a massive gay slut.”

“Wait! Connor! Please...” Jeff’s mouth went slack and his eyes widened as his brain was rewritten. His love for tits quickly vanished- replaced by a love for a man’s touch and dick, “Please... I...” Jeff winced as he remembered the best way to suck a man’s cock. A strategy that always got his hookup to cum, “I’m not...” His gym routine vanished from his brain. Cardio and squats. All to help keep his ass as fuckable as possible, “Connor...” Jeff felt himself fall forward, and for brief moment everything went dark. But when he opened his eyes, he found himself being supported by the strong arm of the man sitting across from him.

“Yo, you good?” Jeff looked up at the muscular man in front of him and grinned.

“All good hun!” Jeff giggled, tracing his hand along the man’s muscular arm. Fuck, how’d he get so lucky to find this stud?, “But I think I should lie down for bit.”

“I have a place in mind.” The man said with a grin.

“Oh yeah big guy?” Jeff leaned in and placed a hand against the man’s pec, “I need you to take me there. Right now.” He breathed. The man grinned and the two left the bar, walking quickly back to the man’s room, “My name is Jeffrey by the way.”

“Connor.” Connor replied, as the two entered the bedroom.

Jeffrey grinned as Connor threw him onto the bed. Clothes were quickly discarded. And soon, moans filled the empty room.

______________________________________________________________

Jeff groaned as he pushed himself out of bed, ‘Fuck,’ he thought, seeing the time on his phone, ‘I must’ve gotten wasted.’

His whole body ached, especially his ass. Probably fell on it while he was drunk, he figured. He wobbled to the bathroom and stared in the mirror- taking in his muscular frame and clean-shaven form. He smirked- even feeling like shit he still had his looks. He opened his phone to take a pic and cringed.

“What the fuck?” He whispered, “Who the fuck is that?” He stared at the newest saved picture in his phone. A hairy, slim man, “An otter...” He whispered.

There was a sudden knock at his door and he groaned. Shuffling over, he opened it to find Connor.

“Dude what’s up?” Connor chuckled, “Quite the night last night.”

 “Yeah, really? Fuck dude, I drank way too much. Check this out.” He showed Connor the picture, causing his friend to laugh, “I don’t know how it got on here.”

“You don’t remember?” Connor laughed, “Before you left, we took a whole bunch of selfies.”

Jeff groaned, “Hope he didn’t think I’d be into that.” He chuckled, “Shoot your shot, I guess.” He deleted the photo, “So I take it the night was successful?”  

Connor smirked, “Oh it was.” He winked. “I’m sure I’ll be seeing him again soon. He was begging for more.”

“Gross dude.” Jeff chuckled, “So is that it? Done with the quest?”

“Close dude, very close. Just a few more tribes left.” Connor grinned. Jeff felt a shiver run down his spine. He looked at Connor, a feeling of fear and excitement welling up from within the deepest part of his psyche, “So, wanna grab a drink?”

Jeff shrugged, “Sure, dude.”  

[aphroditeinthesea]

https://www.tumblr.com/aphroditeinthesea/773968497663492096/can-you-do-pjohoo-characters-x-child-of-eris

can u do a child of hebe version?! ❤️

child of hebe x pjo

thank you to this post that i used for inspiration

˚₊‧꒰ა ꣑ৎ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

jason grace

cutest couple goes to… literally the sweetest couple together. he fell in love with you the second he saw you. he had just gotten to camp, doesn’t know even his own name, and all of a sudden he sees this angel of a girl walking towards him. you two are so perfect together, just soft boy, soft girl, soft world.

percy jackson

he definitely fell for you very unexpectedly. like he always just sees you as this girl who his friend, and suddenly he’s looking at you and it just like “oh.. OH.” being a child of the goddess of youth, you two get along so well. he’s being a silly goose and everyone’s like “dude grow up” but you guys are just giggling together.

leo valdez

same thing with percy, you two just get along so well, smiling and giggling together. And it wasn’t like either of you suddenly realized you had a crush on the other, it just somehow faded into a relationship until at some point you two are being all gushy and coupley and you’re just like “are we dating?” and he’s like “are we not married?”

luke castellan

i feel like he would be so protective of you. he knows how innocent you are, and compared to him, he just wants to shield you from everything. Not that he lies to you about what goes on, he just wants you to be safe and stay far, far away from the whole bad stuff he does.

travis stoll

so cute together. also very protective of you, but you give him ideas for pranks and you’re so enthusiastic about it, too. and if anyone dares cross you, i hope they like having nair in their shampoo.

connor stoll

PERFECT TOGETHER so serious. like the perfect. mesh of sweet and silly and just my little babies. You two would def start dating because ehe had a massive crush on you but surprise, surprise, you had a crush on him, too. You first fell for him when you saw him and his brother getting yelled at and you just caught eyes with this cute boy who was so funny. and blah blah blah now you two live in a beautiful penthouse in nyc with a cat for you and a dog for him and you get coffee in a cute cafe down the street every weekend and wear matching jammies and i just realized how much i wrote for him but i really feel that you two would be perfect together.

piper mclean

my girls ugghh like you two just have this chemistry together. You guys are so cute together. picnic dates, sleepovers, attached at the hip actually. whenever one of you guys get invited somewhere, everyone just expects the other to come along and if they aren’t there, everyone’s like “who died 😦”

[paleepeaches]

Dom Connor x afab!reader (smut)

Warnings: foul language, rough sex, creampie (this is literally my first smut so) 18+ fuckers

“Please, Y/N, please, I’ve been a good boy.” 

You laughed mockingly down at him, continuing your assault. “Connor, being a good boy means having patience. Just look at you.” Your hand tilted his chin upwards, and his brown, warm eyes met yours. They were blown and filled with need. 

“We’re just getting started, and you’re already begging for me to fuck you.” As soon as the words flew out of your mouth, something switched inside Connor. Perhaps it was some sort of secret code, you said, but it caused his eyes to lower into an almost primal stare. He growled hungrily, hands gripped the soft flesh of your ass, and in one swift motion, he flipped you over. You fell to the bed with a soft thump, a small gasp leaving your lips. You couldn’t believe the puppy dog android had it in him. Usually, Connor was always the one underneath you. Now, the roles were switched. His interrogation side had come out to play.

He took hold of himself, adjusting the position and moving his swollen leaking tip closer to your clit. You gasped loudly as soon as you felt him. Your hands gripped the bicep of his arm, nails digging into his shirt and faux skin. You whined and withered below him as he rubbed slow, delicious circles over your sensitive nub. You could feel his sticky wet pre cum coat your folds, making a lewd mess.

His head lowered to your ear, his breath fanning over it and causing goosebumps. “Who’s begging now?” His voice was hoarse and filled with mockery. He retracted from you, showing that lopsided grin off to you. He was taking enjoyment in watching you whine and beg. It was an unusual but pleasurable sight for him that made his LED spin yellow. 

“Please, Connor, I need you.” Your voice was small and breathless.

 He chuckled darkly and smoothed your hair out with one hand. “I’m gonna need more than that, Y/N.”

You knew the detective in him wouldn’t be satisfied with a lazy half-confession. He wanted you to spill out how much you craved his touch. He wanted to hear the soft pants and whimpers laced with your words as you told him how much you wanted him to fuck you. It was a new experience for you but one you took with a sense of thrill. You bent for him and opened your mouth again, begging, “Please, Connor, I need your coc-” You were cut off by him slipping his mushroom tip past your folds and into your achingly tight cunt. You moaned, clawing at his bicep again.

“You can do better than that. Come on, I know you can use that pretty little mouth of yours.” He stared you down with a stern gaze. He wasn’t satisfied with your soft, small voice. You knew he wanted more for you to be practically crying out for him. 

“Come on, baby, tell me what you want.” Connor slowly inched his tip back out, and your cunt let it go with a wet squelching noise. You whined, feeling the loss of him inside you. He knew how to make you break, bend and beg. His job was to get confessions, and he always accomplished his mission. 

“Please, Connor! Please fuck me. I’ll be a good girl for you!” You cried out, clawing needily at his arm, the one gripping his cock. 

He smirked down at you, enjoying your confession. He was satisfied enough and slammed himself into you. You moaned out, back arching and cunt clamping down on him. He groaned, panting as he felt you struggle to adjust to him. “Fuck, you’re always so tight, baby.”

Bucking your hips up, you struggled to fuck yourself up on his cock. His hand gripped your waist, pushing your hips down and pinning them on the bed below you. “We just started, and you’re already begging for my cock.” He echoed your words, teasing you. He didn’t let you respond and rammed himself into you, fucking your poor sopping cunt. You bit your lip, trying to suppress the loud moans escaping your throat. He noticed the lack of noise quickly, his LED spinning red. His hand gripped your face while his thumb pushed past your lips, invading your mouth. Pressing his thumb on your tongue, he urged you to moan. “Don’t do that. I wanna hear those pretty little noises.”

You obeyed him simply feeling like you’d do anything for him-not that it wasn't the truth. You let yourself go, crying while he plunged himself balls deep into you. His tip kissed your cervix and caused you to wiggle under him, spreading your legs further apart so he could fuck you deeper. “You like that?” He cooed at you. You nodded vigorously, wanting to cry for him to hit it again.

He groaned again, hitting your cervix once more. “Fuck.” The more he snapped his hips into yours, the more wet you got. He could feel your arousal spill out of you, coating his cock and bathing his heavy ballsack. You could feel the thick bundle of nerves inside of you coming undone. Connor could tell you were close by the way your pussy clenched tighter around him, desperately sucking him in. “This greedy little cunt wants to cum?’ He questioned you darkly. 

“Please, please, I wanna cum.” You gasped out, panting from the extreme overdoes of pleasure he was providing you. 

Connor wasted no time and pinned your arms above your head; his other hand slipped under you, gripping your ass cheek. He was ramming inside of you, causing your whole body to jolt violently. Your eyes rolled back, and cries escaped you that you weren’t even aware of. All you felt was his delicious tip bumping repeatedly into your cervix. Whimpers spill from your mouth, and your cunt contracts, clenching down on him as you cum. 

“Shit!” He growls as he feels your warm arousal coat him, soaking his cock. All he needed was to feel the unbearable sensation of your cunt milking him to cum. Hot spurts of his seed pant your insides as he pants heavily. He thrusts sloppily into you a few more times, making sure not a single drop of his cum was wasted. He pulls out and watches his cum pour out of you, stuffing his finger and pushing it back in. 

[euphoria-looney]

Who Said Money Can't Buy You Happiness?

Yan! Batfam x Princess!Reader

Special

"Mother said be good, father said be nice. That was always their advice. So be nice, [name], good, [name]. Nice, good, good nice (tighter!). What's the good of being good if everyone is blind. Always leaving you behind." Prologue: Into the Woods.

(I needed the full thing in it)

Divider Creds: @selysie and @anitalenia

This plot was inspired by @niwaart and @mimiiiiiiiiisstuff

Life is not fair, and while the rich eat like pigs the poor people eat scraps and still are charged no matter if they can afford it or not.

As a princess, I understood that.

I am labeled as the defective princess, the Imperial Princess of Gotham, [name] Wayne.

While all my siblings were intelligent and had strength, talent, and power that upstaged most people, I had none of that, I wasn't smart, actually, I was a complete dunce. I had no strength to my name and was disgracefully unable to use my magic, but I knew I had some...

I had to. Right?

My talent, probably being an embarrassment to my family name.

My mother, she also glanced at me with disgust, she made sure if I wasn't able to do anything useful I'll at least have etiquette while being useless.

I admired my mother, she was beautiful, graceful, sharp, and always upheld her image.

She sneers at me when I mess up, which is all the time, but we don't talk about that.

Oh gosh, and my siblings they were all so amazing.

Barbara held the same personality as our mother, she rose the social class fast. Too bad she doesn't talk to me, I think she would be a great person to take an example from!

Stephanie and Cassandra tagged behind Barbara. They were like those cool trios in the books.

Yes, I read books, but they don't count since they are all novels.

Damian berates me on the fact that I'm nothing like them, but it just shows he cares, doesn't it?

Dick will he coaches Damian he's the #1 Knight of our kingdom and woman all over swoon over him, he talks to me... sometimes.

Duke, well he's a gentleman we don't talk but he's nice enough to greet me.

Jason, well like those novels he'd be titled the 'bad boy' and it does in fact charm lots and lots of ladies.

Tim, it impresses me every time at how smart he is. Maybe that's why we don't have many conversations because I'm not on his level.

And my father, well, it's okay. He's the emperor of course he's busy, I can't ask for attention that would be so childish!

It's of course upsetting when they all hang out without me, but they're just letting me have more time to myself to read! If you think about it they just care about me.

I remember we went to an event, and I was alone and no one talked to me, but it's fine, that's when I met the love of my life, he was like a prince charming, I bumped into him and he caught me before I hit the floor, I swear I fell right then.

Connor Kent.

Then I found out he was in fact a prince! And I got lucky and arranged a marriage with him, he didn't seem as static, but it's okay, arranged marriages usually don't last anyway...

I don't know what took over me, but when they found this orphaned girl one day, out of nowhere, they adopted her, and that's when my life changed.

Serena.

It wasn't fair how she was the apple of everyone's eyes.

She was also clumsy and dumb, she didn't know how to use magic, just like me, but there was a fine line between us. For one I know etiquette and for two, I'm of royal blood.

But instead of also disliking her they doted on her. I let it go until Connor also started being attracted to her. I was enraged.

But kept to myself. I started writing things I felt like doing those things to her. Then slowly I started doing said things. But they were harmless! Mostly...

I always ended up getting caught every single time though.

I still did them though, I don't know I just felt like it, and then I started having dreams of this weird world, about a girl.

Her name, was just like mine, [name] [last name], and she's so cool!

It started off showing what kind of woman she was, a CEO, doctor, lawyer, but mainly an entrepreneur, I didn't know a woman could be in those fields. Also, what are some of those things?

Then those dreams.

"What a bast-, I can't with this main character! Oh and don't even get me started on the family, who wrote this?! And a poly relationship for what? Just for her to focus on one guy? That's it I'm balding. The only character I like is [name] but sometimes I wish she would just stand up for herself!"

Yes, for I found out she was just like me she also liked reading novels.

Her reactions to them were also quite funny, then one day I don't know why but I prayed to the Gods that I wanted to be just like her.

"Go hang yourself! Shitty ahh characters. Go suck a titty."

Okay, not exactly like her.

Then it was the next morning and the maids took a while to finally get me ready, I couldn't stand their murmuring about how terrible I was compared to Serena.

I wanted to rip my hair out when I heard her name.

Then I made an idiotic choice again, I shoved her while on the staircase.

Then my world went black before I woke up startled with NEW MEMORIES.

I had become [name] [last name].

But for some reason, I was smart, I knew how to manage her jobs…

5 years later

It's been, what, 5 years?

[name] was right to be cocky she had every right to be, I feel bad now that I stole her life.

[name] wherever you are I wish you the best.

I wanted to write this to show that both girls will get happy endings, and I rushed this because idk.

Anyway, thanks cuties for the interaction with my last post!

And again with the last post please give me constructive criticism!

Taglist -

@kittzu @charlenexoxo1 @bat1212 @silverklaus @sillysealsies

[xoxochb]

hear me out.. connor stoll stealing the reader's bra or panties..

the worst part is that he would do this without remorse LMAO

——— ౨ৎ ⊹ ࣪ ˖

when one pair was gone you hadn’t noticed. when a second had disappeared you still hadn’t noticed. but when five pairs of your panties had mysteriously gotten lost that’s when you realized there was an issue here.

firstly, you thought it was getting lost in the wash, there was tons of other campers so it definitely wasn’t uncommon for them to go missing like that. your next thought was that perhaps they had fell behind your drawers, you checked and found nothing yet again.

so you did the only logical thing— you asked your thief of a boyfriend.

“connor?”

“mhm?” the hum is muffled from his mouth latching to your neck.

you sigh, pulling up the blanket to further cover your bare skin, veiled in goosebumps from the cold cabin air nipping at your skin.

“can I ask you something?”

he freezes within your hold, lips pausing in their trail of feathery pecks. “are you breaking up with me?”

“what?” your brows furrow. “no.”

“are you proposing?”

“no! will you let me speak?”

“go ahead, dearest.” he continues pecking your neck.

you roll your eyes before asking the question. “have you been… stealing my underwear?”

“what makes you think that?” despite the casual question connor’s lips turn into a smile you feel instantly along your skin. you’ve got your answer.

“because they’re missing, dipshit. I’ve only got, like, three pairs left.”

“so what happens when you have none left?” he laughs.

“I’m not laughing.” your face remains stoic. but you feel the faintest of smiles creeping, quickly biting your lip to prevent it. “just tell me: have you stolen them?”

“you don’t trust me?”

you tug his curls.

“okay— yeah, I took a few!”

“I’m gonna need those back, y’know? and don’t you dare think about taking my pair on the floor.”

“I wasn’t goin’ to.”

connor pouts, refraining from kissing your neck any further and settling for resting his head lightly atop your shoulder. you twirl his curls around your finger delicately, letting them bounce back into place after.

your brain conquers another question. “why were you stealing them anyways?”

“uhmm… how about another question…”

[aliaology]

COACH

summary: reader is a single mother who just signed her son up for hockey! who knew that number eighty-six of the new jersey devils would help coach alongside his teammates.

pairings: jack hughes x fem!reader

warnings: talks of teen pregnancy if that counts…? talks of sex and birth control. SO MUCH FLUFF BC I THINK JACK WOULD BE GREAT WITH LIL KIDS.

being pregnant at eighteen was not what you expected. no, it was actually nowhere near your list of “what will i do when im eighteen.” of course, you tried to figure out where you went wrong. thats when it hit you, you forgot to take your birth control that entire week, and your now ex-boyfriend was so sure you would still be fine because you took it a few days before.

how wrong he was. and he fled quickly too.

now you sat in the small bleachers of a local rink, helping your son get his skates tied. the five year old gave a goofy grin as he saw some of his friends from school or from the same apartment complex as you.

“you ready to go, baby?” you ask him with a smile, patting his leg as you helped him stand on the skates.

“uh huh!” he smiled widely.

“okay, lets go lovie, one of the coaches will be paired with you and helping you, okay?” you told him, bending down to his height. he gave a toothy grin.

“okay mama!” you smiled and held his hand as you brought him over to the opening of the rink. a few kids were in front of you two, getting paired with one of the older males.

you learned that it was the new jersey devils, their team came to help the little ones. you smiled at your son as you guys got to the opening. number eighty six awaited for your son.

jack lifted his gaze from his hands to you and your son. his breath hitched as he saw your face. you were pretty. really pretty.

he stuck his hand out, “hi im jack— jack hughes” he smiled.

you grabbed his hand, shaking it slightly. “its nice to meet you, im y/n.” you grin. you then look at your son, so does jack.

jack crouches down. “and whats your name little bud?” he asked.

“connor!” your son smiled.

“well connor, you ready to play some hockey?” jack grinned. your son nodded excitedly and grabbed onto jacks arm.

jack took your son out onto the ice as you sat down back on the bleachers. you crossed your legs and placed your head onto your hand as you watched your son excitedly practice with number 86.

jack hughes was attractive, you knew that for sure. but the way he was so gentle with your son, holy shit you felt like it was love at first sight. of course, it wasn’t, but this very attractive man was being amazing to your son. who would not want that?

you watched as he helped your son skate around. he helped connor hold his stick properly, helped him hit the puck. though— you couldn’t help but laugh when connor slipped and fell straight on his butt. jack seemed to also find it funny as he slapped a hand over his mouth while helping connor up.

you also watched as jack would sneak glances at you every so often. you had to say it made you feel flustered when you caught him.

after about two hours, the small practice came to and end. parents took photos with some of the devils, kids got their stuff put back in bags, but your son, he was attached to jack’s hip. he would not leave jack alone,

jack needed to take a picture with a fan? connor would wait patiently for him. jack had to go back to the players box for his stuff? connor was following. jack was walking towards you? well, connor was in his arms.

“little man here seems to like me, i think” jack spoke with a smile.

you let out a small laugh as the now tired kid had rested his head against jacks shoulder.

“i think so too, im sorry about him being all over you. he doesn’t get attached easily so this is somewhat new.” you spoke softly.

you grabbed the helmet from jacks grasp, putting it in your son’s hockey bag. “its no problem at all, really. hes a cutie, and one hell of a fast learner.” jack gushed.

you smiled, turning to your son who rubbed his eyes. “ready to go home, baby?” you asked, hands out so he could go to you.

“no! i want to stay with jack” he pouted, turning his head away.

you sighed softly. “im sorry jack.” you told.

“its okay, promise. here, ill hold him so you can take his gear off and then i can carry him to your car? does that sound okay?” jack asked.

you nod as you smile. “sounds perfect.”

jack sat down, holding connor. you gently took of his gear, even if it was a struggle that connor wouldn’t even move from jack’s shoulder. once you got it all in his bag, including his skates, you zipped it up and slung it over your shoulder.

you and jack walked in silence as connor had fallen asleep on jacks shoulder. once you got to your car, you put connor’s bag in the back as jack gently placed him in his car seat.

you turn to him. “thank you for this, it means a lot to me.” you told him.

“couldn’t resist. the kids a cutie and hes got spunk. not to mention his mom is really pretty too.” jack told, smiling at you.

his face then dropped. “i mean unless you have a boyfriend— i totally didn’t say that.” he stuttered.

you laughed lightly, “i dont, thank you” you muttered.

jack’s cheeks went pink. “i uh— can i get your number by any chance?” he asks.

“will you be here next practice?” you question. jack nods. “team will be here for all except when we have roadies.” jack explained.

you nod. “you can have it next practice.” you smile and go to your side of the car. “thank you again, jack.”

“no.. problem” he spoke slowly. he watched you drive away. he barely knew you but you had him wrapped around your pretty little finger.

hes so cutie

[solelifauna]

Definitely NOT Invincible (Yandere Invincible & Reader) Pt.2

Of reunions, both good and bad. Nonetheless, still heartbreaking for our dear (Y/n).

It all hit you at once. You hadn’t just survived somehow. You had fucking time-traveled. You were back. Back before everything went to hell. Before Omni-Man and Mark, Invincible, revealed their true selves and shattered the world.

You crumpled to the floor, knees hitting the soft carpet as the enormity of the situation weighed on your chest, crushing the air out of you. It felt like someone was squeezing your lungs, and no matter how much you gasped, you couldn’t breathe. Your head spun as you tried to fight off the oncoming panic attack. Tears welled in your eyes as your trembling hands gripped the edge of the bed for support.

You had died. You had felt your father—your own father—kill you. And now, somehow, you were alive again, thrown back into a time when everything was still normal. But it wasn’t normal.

You were back in your house, back with them. With your family. With him.

God, you were going to throw up.

How were you supposed to face them? How could you go on living with this knowledge, with this horrific future looming over you, knowing that in a few short months, everything you knew would come crashing down again?

Then, another thought enters your mind sending you spiraling. Your friends;  Haymitch, Hallie, Connor, Weston, they were all dead. The realization hit you like a truck, ripping through your chest as more tears spilled down your face. You had fought side by side with them, bled with them, and now they were just gone. No warning. No chance to save them. You had been ripped away from that reality, thrown back here, and the loss of them left a gaping hole in your heart. Sure, technically they’re still here, they weren’t dead yet, but it wouldn't be the same. It wouldn't be the same, knowing they were all dead.

Pain and panic bubbled up inside you, making it hard to breathe. Your chest heaved as you tried to calm yourself down, desperate to get a grip. You couldn’t afford to lose it, not now. You forced yourself to take deep breaths, each inhale shaky and uneven.

In and out, in and out.

You had to calm down, you had to breathe.

You were doing your best to regulate your sobs when a knock came at your bedroom door. You froze, panic flooding through you again.

“(Y/n)? Is everything okay up there? I called you down for breakfast ages ago!”

It was your mom, Debbie. Her voice, one you hadn’t heard in so long, since Omni-Man and Invincible had declared themselves the rulers of the planet. They had whisked her away, somewhere safe, away from the destruction and rebellion that ravaged the rest of the world. You never knew where, but she was kept out of harm’s way, untouched by the horrors you lived through.

And now she was here, standing just outside your door, in a time before it all fell apart.

Tears welled in your eyes again as the sound of her voice hit you like a tidal wave of emotion. You hadn’t even realized how much you missed her. How much you missed the normalcy of this time.

But the sound of her voice also sent another surge of dread through you. Shit. You couldn’t go down there. You couldn’t face her, them, not now. How could you sit at the table and pretend everything was fine? Pretend you didn’t know that in just a few months, your father and brother would tear the world apart? How could you look at their faces knowing what they would become?

You had faced so much, Demogorgons, the Viltrumites, the rebellion—but this? Going downstairs, sitting at the breakfast table with your family, knowing everything you knew? It felt impossibly cruel.

You stayed silent, biting your lip to keep the sobs from spilling out, praying your mom wouldn’t come in. 

‘Please, don’t come in.’

‘Please.’

‘I can’t do this right now.’

But your mom knocked again, the concern in her voice growing stronger. “(Y/n)? Are you okay? I’m coming in.”

Your heart raced. No, no, no. You weren’t ready. You weren’t ready to face them, to pretend like things were fine.

You scrambled to your feet, wiping the tears from your face as quickly as you could. Your voice came out rough and desperate as you called out, "No!" You winced, hearing your mother startle from the other side of the door. Crap.

"God–sorry, mom. I'm just super tired this morning. I'll be right down," you added, trying to sound more gentle, more normal. There was a long pause, the silence stretching between you. You knew she was mulling over your odd behavior.

It wasn’t like you didn’t have nightmares before, waking up crying in a cold sweat wasn’t anything new. Even before the world went to hell, you had fought off Demogorgons, and those battles were nothing short of traumatizing. Your mom had seen you like this before, but this was different. You weren’t just waking up from a bad dream. You were waking up from death.

After what felt like an eternity, your mother finally called out, her voice laced with concern. "Okay…" she said, her tone hesitant, but she turned and made her way back down the stairs.

You exhaled sharply in relief, the tension momentarily releasing from your body. But that relief was short-lived. You stood there for a moment, staring at your reflection, trying to get a grip on yourself. You had to prepare. Your family was waiting downstairs, and you knew that your father and Mark would be there too. Just the thought of seeing their faces again made your stomach twist into knots.

You quickly washed your face, brushed your teeth, and changed into fresh clothes, anything to make yourself feel more normal. All the while, you tried to mentally prepare for what was to come. You can’t let them know. Under no circumstances could they figure out that you knew what they were going to do. That would only lead to an earlier grave, and you weren’t planning on dying again.

You needed a plan.

Your mind raced, thinking of everything you needed to do, warn the Guardians of the Globe about the incoming danger, keep fighting the Demogorgons, and somehow protect your loved ones without tipping off Omni-Man or Invincible. You had to play your cards carefully. But first, you had to survive breakfast.

With a waning resolve, you steeled yourself, locking away your fear and emotions the best you could. You took a deep breath and opened your door, stepping out into the hallway. Each step felt heavy, like you were walking toward your own execution.

The familiar smell of fresh pancakes hit you as you descended the stairs, and you almost choked on the emotions that welled up inside you. Pancakes. Your mom always made them on weekends. You hadn’t had them in what felt like years. The simplicity of it, the normalcy, hit you like a punch to the gut. You felt the unwelcome sting of tears in your eyes again, but you blinked them away furiously.

Gods, how you missed this. It was something so mundane, so ordinary, but it felt like a memory from a different life. You couldn’t even remember the last time you’d sat at the table with your family, eating pancakes like the world wasn’t about to end.

You can do this, you told yourself as you headed toward the kitchen. You walked into the dining area, every muscle in your body stiff, as if you were bracing for impact. You knew there was no point in trying to hide your anxiety—Omni-Man and Invincible could probably hear your heart hammering in your chest, the scared pitter-patter that betrayed you the moment you stepped out of your room. Even from the other side of the wall, they likely sensed your presence long before you made yourself known.

Calm down, you reminded yourself. You had to be careful. The last thing you needed was to give them any reason to suspect that something was off.

Your mother stood by the stove, flipping pancakes, and the familiar scent of butter and batter filled the air. When she noticed you, she looked up and smiled warmly, as if nothing in the world was wrong. As if everything was just like it had always been. “Morning, sweetie,” she greeted, her tone soft and motherly, oblivious to the storm raging inside you.

You tried your best to smile back, but judging by the way her own expression faltered, it was more of a grimace than a real smile. Her brow furrowed slightly, her eyes searching your face for a moment. “Are you okay? You look… tired.”

You froze for a heartbeat, trying to find the right words. “Yeah, just didn’t sleep well,” you managed to say, forcing your voice to sound casual, though it came out more strained than you’d intended.

She nodded sympathetically, her face softening. “I figured. We’ll talk about your work habits later, okay? But for now, let’s get some food in you.”

You nodded back, feeling a knot of guilt twist in your stomach. She had no idea what was coming. None of them did. You swallowed hard and turned to face the table.

There they were.

Your father—Omni-Man—sat at the head of the table, reading the newspaper like this was just another normal fucking Sunday morning. His face, strong and unreadable, gave nothing away. His eyes flickered up to meet yours, and for a split second, you swore you saw something shift in his expression. But then it was gone, replaced by the stoic calm you’d grown used to.

Mark gave you a small nod.

“You finally made it,” he said, but the usual playfulness wasn’t there. It was more of an observation than a joke. There was no grin, no teasing remark. You missed your brother.

You took a seat, your hands shaking as you reached for a plate. The weight of both their eyes on you was suffocating. Usually, you’d be vying for their attention, seeking out their praise, doing anything to connect with them. But not today. Today, you could barely keep it together, and the tension in the air was palpable.

Omni-Man lowered the newspaper slightly, his gaze sharp and focused as he looked at you again. “Late night?” he asked, his deep voice carrying a weight that made your skin crawl.

You swallowed, trying not to let your voice shake. “Yeah,” you replied, forcing the words out. “Stayed up too late studying.”

He hummed, his eyes narrowing just enough to make your breath hitch. “Don’t make a habit of it,” he said, his tone neutral but carrying a warning. “You need your rest.”

You nodded quickly, your heart thudding in your chest. “I won’t,” you mumbled, reaching for a pancake, trying to avoid his gaze. You could feel him analyzing you, taking in every nervous movement, every strained breath. He could sense that something was off, and so could Mark.

Mark wasn’t as oblivious as he had once been. He was more serious now, colder. He watched you from across the table, the way your hands trembled as you cut into your food, your elevated heart rate, your nervous energy. Usually, you’d be trying to get their attention, proving yourself, seeking validation. But now? You were barely able to hold a conversation.

Mark exchanged a brief look with Omni-Man, both of them silently acknowledging your strange behavior. But in their minds, you were just a weak human—this weirdness would pass. They had bigger things to worry about than your nerves. Still, Mark’s eyes lingered on you longer than usual, suspicion creeping into his gaze. He wasn’t going to say anything now, but he’d decided to keep a closer eye on you. Something wasn’t right.

But they had no idea how much you knew. And you had no intention of letting them figure it out. You forced yourself to eat, every bite tasting like ash as you tried to block out their presence and focus on what came next.

Things took an odd turn halfway through breakfast when a loud chorus of knocks echoed through the house, followed by muffled voices outside. The sudden noise cut through the awkward silence at the table, and you could feel the tension immediately shift.

Omni-Man grunted in annoyance, folding the newspaper with a sharp flick of his wrist, and Mark let out an irritated sigh, his fork clattering on his plate. Your mom just sighed tiredly, clearly not interested in whatever disturbance had interrupted her peaceful morning.

“I’ll take care of it,” you blurted, the words tumbling out faster than you intended. Anything to get out of that room, away from the suffocating presence of your father and brother. Without waiting for a response, you shot up from your seat and made your way to the front door, your heart racing for a different reason now.

When you opened the door, you froze.

Standing there, right on your doorstep, were Hallie, Connor, and Weston.

Your friends. Your dead friends.

They stood before you, each wearing a different expression—Hallie’s face lit up with a gleeful smile, Weston’s eyes glistened with unshed tears, and Connor, usually so stoic, looked like he was on the verge of breaking down. They looked so real, so alive, and that’s when it hit you: they were here. They had come back too.

Before you even knew what was happening, tears began streaming down your face, your vision blurring as the flood of emotion overwhelmed you. You barely had time to register it before they all enveloped you in their arms, pulling you into the tightest group hug you’d ever experienced. The weight of their presence, their warmth, the feeling of being held by them again—it was too much. You sobbed, your chest heaving as you held onto them for dear life.

“Y-you’re here,” you choked out, your words barely comprehensible through your tears. “Oh my god, you’re here. I’ve missed you so much. I’m so sorry, I—” You couldn’t even finish the sentence. Everything you wanted to say was trapped between sobs as you clung to them, the reality of the situation slowly sinking in.

You weren’t alone. You weren’t the only one who had come back.

Hallie laughed through her tears, squeezing you tighter. “We thought we’d lost you,” she murmured, her voice breaking with emotion. “We thought… we didn’t know if you made it.”

Weston chuckled softly, though his voice was thick with tears. “Turns out we all got another shot, huh?” he said, resting his head against yours in the embrace.

Connor didn’t say much, but his grip on you was tight, as if he wasn’t willing to let go anytime soon. It was a reunion you never thought possible, a second chance none of you had anticipated.

For a few moments, it was just the four of you—crying, holding onto each other, grateful beyond words. You hadn’t felt this kind of relief in years, the weight of loss finally lifted from your shoulders. You were all here, together again, and for a brief second, it felt like everything was going to be okay.

In the middle of the emotional reunion, a thought hit you hard. You pulled back slightly, your breath still shaky as you wiped the tears from your face. “Have you… have you seen Haymitch?” you asked, your voice quiet but urgent. “Did he… did he come back too?”

Hallie, Weston, and Connor exchanged looks, their expressions sobering. For a moment, the joy of the reunion was dimmed by uncertainty.

“We–We don’t know,” Hallie finally said, biting her lip. “We haven’t seen him. We’ve been trying to find him, but… there’s been no sign.”

Connor nodded, his voice low. “We’re hoping he made it, but so far, it’s just been us.”

You felt your heart sink. Haymitch had been your mentor, your rock through the chaos of the resistance. The idea that he might not have made it back, that he could still be gone, was almost too much to bear.

“I hope he’s out there,” Weston added, his hand resting on your shoulder in comfort. “If anyone could survive… it’d be him.”

You nodded, swallowing hard. “Yeah.  I just hope we can find him.”

For a second, it was just the four of you again, clinging to the idea that maybe you could find Haymitch, that maybe this second chance would let you set things right.

You hadn’t realized it, but your family—your father, Mark, and your mom—had followed you to the entrance, likely wondering what was taking so long. The hug ended abruptly as you turned, wiping your eyes hastily, and your friends straightened up, suddenly aware of the looming presence behind you.

Omni-Man stood in the doorway, his expression unreadable, but you could feel his suspicion. His eyes scanned the scene, analyzing everything with that sharp, detached gaze you knew all too well. Beside him stood Mark, arms crossed, his brow furrowed as he watched the reunion, clearly picking up on your uncharacteristic behavior. You were a mess—holding onto your friends like your life depended on it, tears streaking your face. That wasn’t the version of you they were used to.

But it wasn’t just your behavior that had thrown them off. Omni-Man’s expression hardened, and Mark’s eyes narrowed slightly as they exchanged a brief glance. They had overheard parts of your conversation, not that you were aware. 

Back? What did you mean by “came back”? And more importantly, who was Haymitch?

Omni-Man’s voice cut through the thick tension, calm but laced with an edge that made your skin prickle. “Who are these people?” he asked, his gaze shifting from you to your friends.

Your mind raced, scrambling for an explanation. You had to play this carefully—one wrong word and the suspicion you already felt simmering beneath the surface could explode into something much worse. “They’re–they’re my friends from school,” you said, your voice still shaky from the emotional reunion.

Omni-Man’s eyes narrowed slightly, his gaze sharpening. “Friends from school,” he repeated, the words hanging in the air like a challenge. His attention flicked to your friends, and you could practically feel him assessing them, weighing every detail of the situation. He just sighed, whatever was going on with you would be resolved eventually. He's heard about the hormones and “teenager” talk from Debbie, so he wasn't too concerned. He knew you were hiding something, most likely something non trivial, but if he needed to find out he would. 

Mark, however, wasn’t as quick to dismiss you. He kept his eyes on you, watching closely, the wheels turning in his head. He didn’t say anything, but you could tell he wasn’t convinced. Something about your behavior had struck him as off, and he wasn’t going to let it go. He’d be keeping a closer watch on you from now on.

Unbeknownst to you, you’ve already doomed yourself and its hasn't even been 24 hours.

Taglist: @plsfckmedxddy, @marsmabe