#the lettering is awful though. oh dear

[zaphiyy207]

Comfort

"You comfort me"

Plushies! Plushies everywhere!

This one was coloured with alcoholic markers and I am very aware that there's wrong colours being used. I have limited colours (I bought individuals rather than a whole set). I need an excuse to use them so here we are.

Here's my plushies (+keychain) that I included:

I should have made the background more muted or just overall a different colour. That was my bad.

[soapoet]

A letter from your future spouse

like & rb if it resonates ♡

01.

Hello,

You must be up to something, because I cannot get you off my mind. Day and night you haunt me. I type away on my computer, answer phone calls, and I could swear I saw you in the corner of my eyes. At night as I begin to drift, I hear your voice and jolt up, only to be met with an empty room entirely void of you. When you're really here with me in the flesh, I look at you only when you look away. Will I be punished for these stolen glances? You and I, are we forbidden, and if so, who will be the judge?

I thought my life was stable, and in many ways it was. Though it was painted grey, dull. I lived dreary mondays every day of the week. I chased after new experiences, new achievements, new opportunities, new things. New, new, new, new. But it was not until you walked into my life that I truly felt the warmth of the sun and the rain on my skin. Was I colour blind all along? Because you show me colours I never even knew existed. You were truly new. A new light in my life that shines so brightly, but never hurts my eyes. Still I look away. It's not proper, is it? I've been caught up in the crossfire, amidst a battle between head and heart. You're in my heart, you have it in your hands, but didn't I say you are constantly on my mind too? It seems then, my dear, that this battle has a victor, and now I must prcoeed to gather up the courage to speak what I've so carefully kept hidden.

Oh, but you're so observant. You already know. You knew all along, didn't you? You so innocently sat there, knowing I'm a moth to the flame, and that come hail or shine I would find my way to you. You're a mastermind. An architect, the keeper of the blueprint to our tale. I am in awe of you. You were supposed to be a problem, a silly crush I could get over and never act upon, but now I'm thinking of things borrowed and blue. The first day that I saw you lightning struck. It marked the beginning of the end for many things in my life which I had kept around because it was fine. Not perfect, just fine. Suddenly I saw all the cracks and flaws, saw that which I would tolerate, go along with, even when I really didn't want to. You shook me to my core. In many ways, you ruined my life. For the better, I am sure. But for a moment there I wondered what horrors you had unleashed upon me. With your face so sweet and innocent I thought surely you would be unable to trigger earthquakes. And that even if you could, surely you were much too sweet and much too kind to do such thing.

Yet here I stand, amidst the rubble of what I used to call my life. Everything came crashing down because none of it was as stable as it should've been. I'm rebuilding, slowly, and could use some guidance or inspiration. What's your favourite colour? Would you like these tiles for the kitchen? I want to build my life up to look like the perfect home for you. I wish to keep you safe. You've weathered storms just as I have. Had to grow quickly, like dandelions through concrete. You're tired, and I don't want to see you quitting so I am building you a shelter. I promise to keep watch while you get some rest in my arms. When you're healed and strong enough I will provide you the space and time so you can chase your dreams in peace. You can use our home as the foundation for your castle. I know the power you hold, and I will be there to help you wield it.

Sincerely, your future spouse.

02.

Hello,

Coincidentally that is exactly when I knew. "You had me at hello" is such a cliché, but I swear that it is true. I always know trouble when I see it, and you are quite the nightmare indeed. I hope you take no offence to my words. I say what I mean and mean what I say. That typically results in problems, but to me it's another one to toss onto the existing pile. I have a lot of baggage, but if you don't mind, I won't mind yours. Maybe we could get a big storage locker and shove all our baggage in there, lock the door and toss the keys, skip town and never return. It'll all be auctioned off one day for somebody else to deal with. Wouldn't that be nice?

Where was I? Right. Hello. That's when I knew. I always do. I fall very quickly and passionately. Really I leap off into free fall all by my own judgement, sometimes perhaps lack thereof. I know a pretty thing when I see it, though pretty isn't enough, is it? I've learned that the hard way. As I've learned most things. Behind me lays a trail of burnt bridges and broken hearts, though most of those pieces are my own. Most people are unable to tell. I have a reputation, but I think the judgement is unjust. Wholly unfair. I have developed trust issues. Betrayal cuts deep. You know that, don't you? I keep people at bay, and guard my territory fiercly. I am very loyal and I am known for my equal bark and bite. I want to be your guard dog. I swear I will lunge for the jugular if anybody dares cross you. I am protective, albeit a little reckless. I have a lot of scars to prove it.

Little birdies may warn you of me. Tell twisted tales of my exploits. I've been called toxic. Perhaps there is truth to some of it. My love burns bright and hot, but it never wavers. I crave closeness, and wish to crawl into the heart and mind of my target of affections like a spider trespassing into your home to weave its webs in the darkest corners. I want to know you better than anybody else. Know your body, mind, heart, and your soul like it is my own. You will never be left wanting reassurance, because I have known doubt, and doubt is my enemy and I will fight it on sight. You will always know that I am yours. With me you have nothing to fear. Least of all me or my commitment to you and us.

Perhaps we both had to scrape our knees as we crawled through painful loves before we found each other. Together we'll be powerful. A dynamic duo, partners in crime. Those closest to me would come forward as witnesses to my ride or die nature, and you as my life partner will be my biggest testament to this part of my character. You're not too different, are you? You would die for your people, fight with your bare hands if you had to. Together we will face the world. I'll have your back and you'll have mine, a 360° of the battlefield. We can tear down and build up whatever we want. We can build an empire, or bring them down. With you by my side, everything is possible. I would move mountains and part seas for you. Your love is an enchanted rose and I am a beast, and I will wait for you. Come to me quickly.

Sincerely, your future spouse.

03.

Hello,

I hope my words don't bore you with their simplicity. I also hope that you've been well. I have so many questions, but let us not rush. There is no finish line in love, correct? I've been alright. Y'know, ups and downs. I've kept to myself a lot. Self improvement has become akin to an occupation. I always strive to do and be better. I may not seem the kind, but I have a soft heart which I guard closely. I like old timey romance and watch sappy things when I am down. Please don't tell anybody! I am a rock, but for a long time I was but a pebble, kicked around and misplaced. I have moved around a lot and all I want is to grow roots. Would you mind sparing a little spot in your garden? I just need a little sunlight and a fall of rain to grow. I promise I won't waste your time and do my all to never disappoint you.

My affections build slowly. Too slow for many, but I hate accidents and mistakes, at least my own. I strive for perfection, though people tell me it does not exist. I see it in you, though, so they must be wrong. Sure, you have your flaws, but the glue between your cracks glisten in the light and are still beautiful to me. I really do enjoy the simple things. Do you stop to smell the roses too? I have a gentle love to offer. A kitchen bathed in morning sunlight and the smell of pancakes in the air. I'll eat the first pancakes, because the ones I bring to you in bed should be perfect, and the first one never is. You deserve so much good, and I really hope I can provide a lot of that good to you by my own hands.

I am shy, and don't always have a way with words. I will tell you through music how I feel, or paint you on a canvas in all your favourite colours. I'll help you sculpt your dreams and wishes. I'd make a great assistant. I would love to follow you on your way up ladders and mountains. I believe in you like some believe in a higher power. You can put your faith in me too. Love is a choice, and I will make the choice to love you every morning when I rise. You are the kind of fun that doesn't make me ill. The adventure I am unafraid to embark on. We can play our own roles and support each other. I'll be of service to you at every step if you need me. In return I only ask that you hold me close and never let me go.

I fear abandonment, and have known a life without guidance. I've become rigid, and hope that you'll help me bend without snapping and show me the wonders of the unknown. With you by my side I won't be afraid. My skepticism will not be a hindrance because you lead me into uncharted territory as though you have a map, and I trust that you know where we're going. And should uncertainty rise, well, I have dealt with that beast plenty, and I can tame it and send it on its way should it bother you. I will always stand by you so that never again will you need to face challenges alone. You are a promise I will keep forever if you let me.

Sincerely, your future spouse.

04.

Hello,

Have you eaten? Taken your meds? Keep yourself hydrated. Take even just a sip. I apologise if I'm fussing, but I've always been a caregiver. People depend on me. At home, at work, even my friends. I get taken advantage of pretty easily, and I try my best to keep my boundaries. Though I am admittededly prone to a bit of a saviour complex. It's not so much that I don't think others cannot get up on their own, I just think they shouldn't have to. A helping hand is often rare these days. For many, even just the day to day grind is unbearable, so any chance to take the load off another's shoulders and let them rest and catch their breath I'll happily take.

I try my best to be fair, but often lose sight of what's best for me. I want to help and support everyone who needs it, but in my quest to save everyone, I have often abandoned myself. My care is often expected and thus taken for granted. Nobody seems to understand how much it hurts. Well, until I met you anyway. You're a little fire cracker. You have a great presence despite your size. You're honest and so very clever. I was instantly in awe by your radiance, your willpower, your resilience and your strength. You taught me important lessons. I'm older than you but sometimes I feel like a student listening to my teacher preach. You're opinionated and steadfast, and have such a strong sense of justice. You call it like it is, and have called me out aplenty. Always well-intentioned. You get worked up easily, and I find it rather cute. You scold me like a parent their child when I don't take up enough space, don't hold my head high, or when I give away too much for free. You are objective and fair, never tell me I'm right or wrong unless I really am. It's refreshing. You're like a breath of fresh air.

It pains me to hear of your past. How you've been to hell and back. You face struggles even when you really can't or feel like giving up. You always get back up again, always try to find another way around when an obstacle sits in the way of where you're going. You've lived life on hardmode, and now I yearn to make things easier for you. You if anyone deserves my devotion. I know you are much too just to take advantage of my kindness and return my love in earnest. I trust you, and that says a lot as I've only ever been able to trust myself.

Would you let me be your safe space? We can build you a nest and make sure you have the nicest, softest things and plenty of snacks. I wish to provide you the space and time to really relax and let your guard down. You can safely get in touch with your inner child and heal them from all their past wounds. I will guard your sanctuary and let you be free and able to go wherever your heart desires. Let your curiosity guide you, and I will follow and keep bandaids in my pocket should you stumble and fall. You don't need to be strong all the time, and you need not be ready for battle at all hours of the day. I will take the wheel and take us in the direction of your choice whilst you rest safe and sound for as long and as much as you want and need.

Sincerely, your future spouse.

05.

Hello,

Speak of the devil and the devil shall appear, ay? Am I late, or were you just early? It seems as though you've been waiting a long time. Wasted your time kissing a whole lot of frogs, huh? Settled for good enough? Jumped from ship to ship like a pirate looking for the best loot? Well, congratulations! You made it. I'm here now! I'm just kidding, but I am, in fact, very happy now that you found me. Lots of hurdles to get over, had to crumple up many plans and ideas and kick yourself into gear on the career front. I'm far from your finish line, I am merely a little prize for a job well done. And now you'll have me by your side for the next chapters. Oh, the adventures we will have! How exciting, I can hardly wait.

Something important you had to learn before you got here is beating the status quo to the curb. You always did struggle with fitting into a neat little box and following orders, didn't you? Yet so many fools tried to bend your will and make you follow a nice little step by step pre-determined program. Hah, as if you'd ever be happy giving up your freedom like that. And I adore that about you. To hell with the status quo. I never do what is expected of me unless I myself set or agreed to those expectations. This is my life, and your life is yours. Wanna dance? Because I'll choose to court you on sight, and I hope you don't make me look like yet another fool because truly, I tell you, our dance will be an exhilarating one. We can both lead, because screw the rules!

Do not mistake my arrogance and my eleutheromania as purely egoic and a sign of wavering commitment. Though I have my admirers and my comrades, I am fiercly loyal. I do intend to flaunt you, because you are a dream come true worthy of the spotlight. I hope you're not shy, and if you are, then well, it'll be that much more entertaining for me to see you flustered by all the attention and applause. So learn to take a compliment, kiddo, because you just hit the jackpot and the prize includes a lifetime supply of praise. Along with a steadfast support system, as not only will I be at your beck and call, I fully intend to introduce you to my network of friends in higher places. Fret not, because your wildest dreams will soon appear mundane as together with some found family we will get where you are going so much faster than you've been going before.

Speaking of family, I'm not very close with mine. Perhaps neither are you, so you will understand the feeling of always having to do everything yourself and not having the kind of safety net that a family can provide. This is why I have collected friends over the years to whom I serve as family and they the same for me in return. In my anxieties of abandonment and neglect, I do everything in my power to help and support my loved ones because I know what it feels like to be without as much as encouragement on this journey of life. If you ever need some kind words, I'll be sure to whisper them in your ear and shout your name from the rooftops. You deserve the world, so pack your bags. We have tickets to explore it all.

Sincerely, your future spouse.

06.

Hello,

I pray you did not hear me talking to myself. I cry out into the void often. My mind, always abuzz with what ifs and wonder, has its way of driving me mad. Often I feel like a mad scientist, fixated on something so long I fail to take care of all my human needs. Before I know it, the sun has set and made way for the night. I recognise the passing of time only when I notice it is dark and the only source of light is the screen right on front of me. I have so many tabs open in my head I don't always notice what goes on around me. But you startled me. Admittededly I did not notice right away, but when I did I was shocked. It must've been weeks before I zoned out, watching your face as I thought of absolutely nothing. I waited for you to finish whatever it was that you were occupied with, and then it hit me. You're beautiful and I like you.

It feels easy to be around you. I can't say the same for many people, if any. I have had plenty of offers, but competing against my solitude is difficult. A race few finish, and none truly come out of as the victor. I get bored easily, and I must be honest and admit that though I may be quickly intrigued and glue myself to my newest interest, my attention is hard to keep. I enjoy the rush of newness, and yearn for a love that stays fresh and full of intrigue. And I found that in you. For you lead your own life, explore your own paths, then report back to me your newest finds. We pick apart things and situations like mechanics figuring out all the parts of a new machine. Then we go and find new things to inevitably share, and sometimes we journey together too. There is always something. I no longer feel like I am the only one keeping the conversation going. No longer the one in charge of every who and what and how and why and when and where. You pull your own weight. For once I, too, feel fascinating. And not only do I feel interesting, I find you equally interesting. It didn't drop for either of us.

Some may look at us strangely, but good heavens, are some people so easily lulled into a boring and mundane routine. Every time I would cry out my woes, I was called childish. Told that love will and should settle into a comfortable and steady routine. That it is normal for the excitement of newness to fade as you get to know someone. I refused to believe every relationship was doomed to become such a snooze. And I am glad you did too, because you keep growing as I grow and our vines they intertwine and part ways and cross again in this intricate web of possibilities. To know you is to be a student of law or medicine. Doctors and lawyers practice their craft, they're not fixed by a mere degree because neither law or medicine is fixed. It is ever-changing and developing. I pinch myself because I can hardly believe I found another student like me.

Never fear I will leave you feeling stupid. I am aware of my own merit, but never wield it against anyone, unless needed. You are very clever and you have strengths and skills that I do not. I promise to be there to listen, especially in times when nobody else will. I have known loneliness and neglect. My curiosity is a form of escapism as I run away from the eldritch horrors of my past. Please be direct with me. Within me lives a tired old hopeless romantic, whom I locked away in shame as I was told it never plays out like in the movies. But you've proved to me that it actually does. And for you I'll do anything. Though you sometimes leave me tongue tied and flustered, you stabilize me. As thanks you'll have my loyalty and devotion. I'm used to taking care of others, and I know my care won't be misplaced on you. I read people easily already, but please allow me to study your face and note down every micro-expression so that I will always be able to tell how you are feeling even when you feel unable to put it into words.

Sincerely, your future spouse.

[lixzey]

sincerely yours

luke castellan x athena!reader

word count: 3.7k

warnings: none, i guess? just some good old fashioned capture the flag shit

a/n: i'm so sorry this took so long! yeah, i know i promised i'd post this yesterday, but my daughter is sick. we just got back from the ER a little over an hour ago bcs she was vomiting like crazy. so, i do hope y'all understand that i have a child to tend to, even though i already finished school.

anyway, this shall be my official early apology for lovelorn part two, which is titled “you're losing me,”

i'm gonna try my best to get that out as soon as i can, but please, do not rush me! thank you!

special thanks to my girl @jennapancake my wonderful bestie @lilmaymayy

ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE

“There was something 'bout you that now I can't remember, it's the same damn thing that made my heart surrender,”

Dear Luke, 

I bumped into you today. Gods, you looked so majestic from my point of view. I got lost in your eyes, again. Pretty sure if I stared just a little bit longer in your beautiful eyes, all the molecules in my body would combust.

There was something 'bout you that now I can't remember, it’s the same damn thing that made my heart surrender.

“For the love of Ares, write your damn letter after we get the flag!” Clarisse groaned, her electric spear sparking slightly, snapping you out of your lovesick daze.

“Why not? It’s not like the other team’s here,” You shrugged, crossing your legs over the  other. “I have plenty of time to write.”

“It’s not like the other team’s here,” Clarisse mimicked the tone of your voice, rolling her dark eyes. “We are at battle, Y/n! Write the damn letter after we win!”

“Let the girl write, Clarisse,” Silena chuckled, sitting beside you with a soft smile. “She’s just so in love with pretty boy, Luke.”

“Silena!” You shushed, craning your neck to glance around if someone was nearby. “Someone could’ve heard you! He could’ve heard you!”

“Relax, lover girl,” Silena smirked, flicking her long dark hair over her shoulder. “No one’s here, no one would dare to approach this side as long as Clar is here.”

Clarissed bobbed her head to the side. “What she said.”

“Shut up,” You grumbled, folding the paper and stuffing inside the back pocket of your shorts along with your pen. “Someone from our team still could’ve passed by.” you huffed, folding your arms over your chest.

“Yeah, so shut up about your pretty boy.” Clarisse rolled her eyes. “Not everyone wants to hear how beautiful his eyes are.”

“Can’t blame her, though,” Silena shrugged her tan shoulders. “He’s so pretty, a sight for sore eyes.”

“He’s a sight for my sore eyes,” You sighed dreamily, resting your chin on your hands.

“Ugh,” Clarisse scrunched her nose. “Are you sure you’re not a daughter of Aphrodite wrongly claimed by Athena? Or at least a legacy of the love goddess?”

“If she was a daughter of love, I would know.” Silena answered, picking up a pebble and throwing it gracefully into the creek right in front of the three of you. “She's definitely not a legacy either. Just an Athena kid in love with a son of Hermes, stupidly in love with said son of Hermes.”

“Hey! I am not stupidly in love-” 

“You aren’t?” Clarisse raised a brow. “You were literally just babbling about bumping into him ten minutes ago.”

“Yeah, but-”

“And, you were blushing when you found us.” Silena added, smirking. “Oh, Sil, Clar, I bumped into Lukey! He smells so good, oh gods I love him so bad!”

A blush crept onto your cheeks, the shade of strawberries down at the patch invading your face despite trying against it.

“Aw, you look like a strawberry,” Silena giggled, pinching one of your cheeks.

Before you could utter a word, you heard the sound of rustling leaves and branches snapping to your left.

Clarisse’s head whipped to the side, most likely hearing the intruding sounds. “Get ready,” she muttered, lifting her spear in fight mode.

You nodded, quickly rising up to your feet, grabbing your shield that was sitting unused on the forest floor as well as your celestial bronze sword at the ready. Silena stood beside you, red and pink armor shining in the sun as she held her sword in one hand and shield in the other. She looked so effortlessly beautiful, making you slightly jealous.

Silena was your best friend, and has been since you first arrived at camp. But you couldn’t help but wish you were as pretty as her. She had long gorgeous hair, striking eyes, and angelic features, the look you wish you had. Maybe, if you were as pretty as her, Luke would give you his full attention like how boys did with Silena or any daughter of Aphrodite.

“Oh, hey guys,” A voice you knew oh so well brought you back to reality. Your eyes snapped upward, meeting the eyes of Luke Castellan.

Shit.

You look at Silena and she’s already grinning at you. Clarisse, matching Silena’s with crossed arms. 

“Hi, Luke,” Silena greets him with a smile, a slight teasing tone in her voice directed at you.

“What’cha girls up to?” Luke asks, leaning against a tree. Even when he’s sweaty, gods, he’s handsome.

“Nothing!” You quickly answer, averting your gaze away from him, the blush you had earlier still not leaving.

“Where’s the flag?” Clarisse asked, peeking behind the counselor of cabin eleven.

“It’s with Annabeth, don’t worry,” Luke assured with a chuckle. “She isn’t letting the flag out of her sight, won’t even let me touch it.”

“The other team’s flag?” Clarisse raised a brow expectantly. 

“The Stolls are on it, Chris too.” Luke answers, running a hand over his chocolate curls, making you gulp. Fuck, he’s too damn hot.

Silena cleared her throat, noticing how nervous you are. “Hey, Clar? Let’s help the boys.” 

Clarisse looks at her incredulously, but Silena raises a brow at her. “Okay, fine. Let’s go.”

Your eyes widened. “Wait, what?”

“Luke, you okay with keeping Y/n company for a bit?” Silena asks with a smirk, fixing up her armor.

“Yeah, sure, no problem.” Luke smiles, oblivious to the fact that you are blushing like a ripe red fruit in season.

Shit, shit, shit. You thought, watching the teasing looks of your friends as you stood there obviously frazzled. “No, no, I’m uh, coming with you!” You stammered, nearly stumbling forward. “I’m gonna help!” your voice sounded a little squeaky, making you visibly cringe.

Clarisse snorted, slamming the end of her spear onto the forest floor, the tip sparking like fireworks on the fourth of July. “You stay here, smartass,” she says with a teasing grin. “He's got you covered, right Castellan?”

Luke nodded, a lopsided grin on his handsome face. “I got ‘er, don’t worry,” he chuckles, walking towards you, slinging his muscular arm around your shoulders, pulling you slightly closer to his armored chest. “Wouldn’t want to get maimed by three cabin heads.”

“You’ve got Annabeth, Clarisse, and me to deal with if she gets hurt.” Silena says, pink glossed lips curling into a smirk.

You scowl, folding your arms over your chest. “I can fend for myself, thank you very much.”

“You wouldn’t mind if Lukey here protects you?” Silena chuckled, flicking her long hair over her shoulder, her eyes changing to the shade of Luke’s—chocolate brown, amber in the sunlight.

You crossed your arms over your chest, glaring at your best friends. “I’m perfectly fine without a man,” you grumbled, trying your best to sound nonchalant.

“Uh huh,” Clarisse smirks at you. “Say, Luke, you wouldn’t mind saving our smart ass friend, would you?”

“Not at all,” Luke replies, his lips mirroring Clarisse’s. “What’dya say pretty girl? Y’ mind if I save you?” he continues, nudging you slightly with the arm along your shoulders.

Silena and Clarisse snort at Luke Castellan calling you pretty girl. You were a hundred percent sure that Silena would be teasing you relentlessly after the match because of it. 

You narrow your eyes at your ridiculously annoying friends, before slowly averting your gaze towards Luke. Good lord, does this light do him good. “N-No, I don’t mind…” You trail off, your face becoming a little too hot as Luke's perfectly handsome face just inches away.

You feel your heart beating loudly in your chest, making you wonder if the decibels of said beating were audible enough for the boy who’s causing your heart to beat so rapidly.

“That settles it!” Silena clapped her hands together, snapping you back to reality. You quickly push Luke’s arm off of your shoulder, taking a step back away from him as if he had some sort of deadly disease.

I can’t risk him knowing I have a crush on him!

“See you later, pretty girl!” Silena chuckles before grabbing Clarisse’s arm, pulling the daughter of Ares along with her.

As soon as your friends faded from your view, you immediately scramble towards the log you had been sitting on a while ago. You were desperate to hide the fact that you had feelings for the boy standing just meters away. You had to act all tough and calculating, just like your little sister.

“You know,” Luke started, walking in your direction, sheathing his sword in its holster. “From this angle, you look like Annabeth.”

You look up at him, raising a brow, hoping you looked at least intimidating. “How so?”

Luke hummed, taking a seat beside you, placing his shield down on the forest floor. “You had your lower lip out in a pout, just like Annabeth when she’s in deep thought.”

“Who says I’m in deep thought?”

Luke smiles, shaking his head with a chuckle. “I just assumed, since Annabeth is my sister-” he cuts himself off momentarily, looking at you like he had offended you. “I mean, she’s your sister, not mine, you know? Godly parent wise.”

“It’s fine, Luke,” You laugh, giving him an assuring smile. “You have been Annabeth’s family since she was seven. We all know that no one, and I mean no one, can ever replace you as Annie’s big brother.”

Luke sighed a breath of relief. “For a minute there I thought you were going to get mad at me.”

“I mean, there is nothing to be mad about.” You smile, before suddenly remembering the unfinished letter you had sitting in your back pocket. 

Shit.

You quickly whipped your head around to see if the letter had fallen out of your pocket, before reaching in your back pocket to check. Thank gods, it’s still here. You push it down deeper in your pocket, if that was still even possible. It's better to be safe rather than sorry.

“You know, you and Annabeth have a lot in common.” Luke says, leaning slightly to the side, looking you up and down, causing you to feel a little shy.

“Yeah?” You squeak out, your eyes visibly widening like stormy gray drachmas before quickly clearing your throat like nothing happened despite the pink tint on your cheeks. “What makes Annabeth and I so similar?”

“Well, for starters, you’re both smart and wise. I mean, yeah, it’s already given because your mom is Athena.”

You playfully raise a brow at him. “What else?” you ask, the corner of your lips twitching into a small smile.

If you were being honest, you were liking this. Just you and Luke, alone—well, not technically—in the woods just chatting about the similarities between you and your younger sister. Personally, you’d prefer something else as a topic. Although, Luke pointing out the similarities between you and Annabeth would mean that he looks at you like you do with him.

It wouldn’t be wrong to assume, would it? Since he had just implied that you and Annabeth had a lot in common. Perhaps even in ways you don’t even notice.

Does this make you delusional? Maybe. But there’s no wrong with that, right?

“You both zone out,” Luke chuckles, wiping off the sweat on his forehead with the back of his hand. “Usually, during mornings. Annabeth, she says that it’s because of lack of sleep from reading all night.”

You stifle a laugh, fully knowing that Annabeth spends a lot of time reading during the night. She says that it’s the only time she has during her day, since she prefers getting all of her chores done before getting into leisure activities. You often wonder how on earth does she manage to function with only three to five hours of sleep, when a child her age is supposed to have more than eight hours of rest.

“Well, that’s an acceptable reason to zone out.” You chuckle, pushing back strands of your hair behind your ear, simultaneously wiping off sweat on your brow bone. “I stay up most of the time too, but I don’t overdo it like our little sister. Quite frankly, I do get cranky if I get little to no sleep.”

“I’ve noticed,” Luke snorts, giving you a teasing smile. “You won’t talk to anyone until you’ve gotten your morning tea. A cup of hot peppermint tea with two slices of lemon, a drizzle of honey, and sometimes you add sprigs of mint you ask Katie to grow for you.”

“You know how I take my tea?” You ask, confusion in your features. “I mean, why do you know how I take my tea?”

“It’s kinda hard not to memorize your tea preference when I hear it every time I pick up Annabeth for training.” Luke answers, causing heat to rise up to your cheeks which you hoped that Luke would not notice.

“Oh,” you mumble, realization kicking in. “That makes a lot of sense, actually.”

“Also, you don’t drink it right away. You wait at least two to three minutes—at least from what I see from my table—before taking a sip.”

You suddenly feel butterflies inside your stomach, your cheeks felt like they were getting hotter by the second. You hoped so badly that Luke wouldn’t notice how you were blushing profusely like a teenager in love—which you are, obviously, unless Luke was utterly oblivious to see right through your facade.

Before you could answer, you hear leaves rustling along with heavy footsteps heading towards you and Luke. You quickly rise to your feet, grabbing your sword at shield in defense.

“Enemy team, nine o’clock,” You simply say, the gears in your head moving around to come up with proper battle strategies. 

Luke laughs at you as he stands up. He had his sword still in its holster. “Let me guess,” he chuckles, placing his hands on his waist. Gods, he is so fucking slutty. “Calculating ways to beat their asses?”

You roll your eyes at him. “Obviously.” Luke Castellan was the love of your life, but you were not going to lose a game of capture the flag because of him. “Why aren’t you in position?”

“Relax, pretty girl,” Luke waves a hand dismissively as he smirks at you. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

You glare at him, a scowl on your lips. “I can protect myself, thank you very much.”

“Eh, humor me,” Luke nudges your shoulder, a lopsided grin on stupidly handsome face. “It’ll be fun.”

“If you weren’t-” you tried to retort, only to be cut off by Lee Fletcher’s voice. 

“Where’s the flag, Castellan?” Lee demands, moving closer towards you and Luke, his siblings following closely behind, ready for a fight.

You wanted to laugh so badly. It was like they were still new to the game. It made you wonder whether they were purposely forgetting the fact that Luke Castellan is the best swordsman camp has seen in the past three hundred years or they’ve never learned their lessons.

“You’re not getting it, Lee. You’d have to get through me first. If you happen to get through me, which I highly doubt, then you’d have to get through Luke—which I can guarantee will not be good.” You taunted, sword at the ready. You then turned to Luke, who was smiling at you. “What?”

“Didn’t know you think so highly of me,” Luke grinned, pulling his sword out of its holster. “Careful, that might get to my head.”

“Whatever,” You roll your eyes at him, trying your hardest not to blush and fall in love with him even more—if that was even possible at this point. You then turn your attention back to the enemy team. “Let’s get this done and over with.”

“Done flirting?” Michael Yew teases from behind Lee, a smirk plastered on his lips.

You scowled, heat rising to your cheeks for the nth time this day. “We weren’t flirting.”

“Eh, looks like it,” Lee snorts, causing his siblings to erupt in laughter. 

You glared at Lee, but before you could say anything, Luke charged at Lee—instantly disarming him without even breaking a sweat, the tip of his sword just below the son of Apollo’s chin and his sword in Luke’s hand.

“What she said,” Luke growled, glaring at him as he pushed his sword forward, grazing Lee’s neck.

Lee whimpered at Luke’s mercy, his eyes closed shut as his siblings stood behind him like scared little kids—well, most of them were. 

“Luke, stop,” You gently placed your hand on his shoulder, feeling a thousand sparks coursing through your veins. When he didn’t budge, you sighed. “Come on, Luke, he’s not worth it.”

It took a minute, but Luke moved his sword away from Lee, though he was still glaring at the son of Apollo. “Get out of my face before I-”

“Luke,” You sighed, grabbing his arm and pulling him to the side before casting a glance at the son of Apollo. “Go, if you know what’s good for you—all of you—go.”

You then turned your full attention back to Luke, his eyes meeting yours with just a few inches separating your faces from another. You felt his breath hot on your skin, sending shivers down your spine. Oh gods, help me.

“No can do,” Lee mutters under his breath, pulling his sword out from its holster. “Attack!” he yelled, charging towards you and Luke.

Acting on your instincts, you immediately grabbed your sword, blocking Lee’s attack, maneuvering your sword, putting your whole weight into a downward thrust. Lee’s sword rattled against the stones, the tip of your sword poking his armor. You then pushed him back with the flat of your blade, causing him to stumble back over a rock, falling on his ass.

You whipped your head around to find Luke disarming Michael Yew with ease, he then grabbed the son of Apollo’s arm, twisting it before shoving him to the side. “You should’ve used arrows.” he taunted the younger boy, a smirk on his lips.

To the side, you saw another child of Apollo—Dawn, you think her name was—sneaking up on Luke, aiming her sword just above his jugular vein.

You quickly ran towards Luke, sliding under his legs, causing Dawn to trip and land face first in a pile of leaves—well, you hoped it was more than just leaves.

“Wrong move,” you laughed deviously, blowing strands of your hair away from your face. 

“Thanks,” Luke chuckled, helping you back on your feet. He then rolled his eyes, letting out an exasperated sigh, before jerking his head behind you, only to find Lee charging towards you.

Luke immediately passed you a shield, which you quickly slid on the ground in Lee’s way, causing him to trip and his sword to fly out his hand and fall just below your feet.

You quickly knelt down, picking the sword up and passing it to Luke with a grin. “Nice save, Luke.”

“You flatter me too much.” Luke chuckled, tilting his head to the side. “I should be flattering you! By the gods, you looked like a warrior princess!”

“I did not,” You laugh nervously, feeling your cheeks heat up again. “I simply did what I was trained to do.”

“Yeah, well- stay down!” Luke pointed his sword at Lee, causing the boy to sigh heavily. 

“Fine, we surrender!”

Luke turned his attention back to you, giving you a lopsided grin. “Where was I?”

Before you could utter a reply, loud cheers and laughter rang out from the distance, making its way closer to where you and Luke were standing. You see the Stoll brothers along with Chris Rodriguez waving the enemy team’s flag in the air as Clarisse waved your team’s flag in victory. 

“We won!” Clarisse laughed heartily, smiling victoriously as she slung her arm around Chris’ shoulders. “Wave it in their faces, Rodriguez!”

“We won!” You squealed, looking at Luke, your hair bouncing in the air as you jumped up and down. “We won! We actually won!”

All of a sudden, Luke picked you up by the waist, twirling you around like a princess in those movies you watched as a child.

“We won!” Luke laughed as he spun you around like you didn’t weigh anything, causing you to erupt in a fit of giggles. “I knew we’d win this!”

“Victory!” You laughed as Luke stopped twirling you, your stormy eyes meeting his chocolate ones as you felt the world pause around you, their cheers fading as Luke smiled at you—that annoyingly handsome smile you’ve come to love—as you felt your heart beat like a bass drum.

You sighed contentedly, yours and Luke’s faces just a few inches away from each other.  “We won,”

“Yeah, pretty girl, we did,” Luke grinned, you could’ve sworn you felt his hold on you tighten as if he was bringing you in closer, but you didn’t want to be delusional so you just laughed it off.

“You guys done flirting?” Clarisse’s voice snapped you and Luke out of your little world. Your eyes widened drastically, your cheeks reddening like a tomato as Luke placed you back down on your feet. You then quickly scrambled towards Silena, Annabeth, and Clarisse, looking embarrassed as ever.

“We..we weren’t flirting!” You quickly told your friends and younger sister, as you reached into your back pockets for some extra hair ties you kept to tie your hair up.

“Uh huh,” Silena teased, smirking at the way your cheeks reddened up. “Whatever you say, pretty girl,”

“Shut up,” You grumbled, tying your hair up when the realization settled in.

The letter was gone.

Oh fuck. 

“Oh shit, fuck, god damnit!” You immediately started looking around for the crumpled paper hoping no one had noticed it yet, unfortunately there were still a lot of campers around, and one must have seen it already.

“What is it?” Annabeth asked, raising a brow at you as she slipped her dagger in its holster. “You okay?”

“Yeah, fuckin’ fantastic!” You say frantically, still scanning the area for any sign of your unfinished letter. You mentally pleaded to your mother to help you find the letter, desperate measures require desperate solutions. Hell, you even started praying to the goddess Aphrodite for help.

Mom, come on, if you love me, help me find my love letter!

Aphrodite, oh goddess, help me in the name of love!

“Oh fuck, you have got to be fucking kidding me.” You say, finally spotting the letter.

In Luke Castellan’s hands.

“Motherfu-”

taglist: @ma1dita @m00ng4z3r @woodlandwrites @sflame15-blog @the-sylver-dragon @ceruleansx @evsolostheuniverse @patitotodd @emryb @onecojg @caramelandvenus @yourfavoritereader @fennecswife @lynbubble @scarletsapphic @lvrgirl6999 @harrysnovia @nyxikae @mxtokko @sc4rl3ttdafoxx

[sleepyangelkami]

You having a secret crush on ellie and you keep it to yourself but she finds your diary one day and she can't help herself so she reads it when you go to the bathroom

DEAR DIARY e.williams

 ☆ WORD COUNT - 3.4K

ELLIE WILLIAMS X FEM!READER

 ☆ SUMMARY - you and ellie have been best friends for as long as you can both remember. she was the artist, you were the writer. you both respected one anothers hidden sketchbook and diary. until one day you're taking much too long in the shower and it's just... sitting there! ellie can't help herself and she finds out a little secret.

 ☆ WARNINGS - snooping? tinsey bit of angst if you can even call it that, touch starved reader, sort of loser!ellie a little, lil crying, petnames, use of y/n like once, intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread 🩷

for as long as you could remember, ellie had been your number one. she was your best friend in the entire world, you told her everything and she told you the same in return. okay maybe not... everything. there was one thing you'd been having an awful hard time keeping to yourself. though, you were sure it was much better in than out.

you and ellie were like an orange and black cat, you were fire and ice, the sun and moon, a writer and an artist.

ellie drew a lot. you'd seen multiple of her drawings before. you remembered the first time she'd doodled a frog onto your arm during a boring lecture from tommy and maria. she gave you a confused look to your state of shock. but you were merely surprised. sure, you knew she could draw. but you didn't know she was that good.

you were the writer. ellie was well aware of this. whether you had your laptop propped up on your knees, writing away or a pen in hand scrawling letters around the little pages. ellie always thought your handwritting was nice. it was much better than her fat chunky lettering that everyone always seemed to have trouble reading. she'd always watch the way your pen would dance across the page, so easily and smoothly. she was almost jealous.

you'd both grown to understand the boundaries of her drawings and your writing.

two things were off limits. one, was her big black bulky sketchbook that she often brought around to your house or sat under her arm. two, as your pink journal. she'd seen it once, questioning you what book was falling out from your locker drawer. you were honest with her. you told her it was your diary, the book you cherished the most, the book she could never read.

at first, ellie was a little taken aback.

sure, she knew everyone had their own secrets but it was you. you told ellie everything, or so she thought.

"oh, thank god." she spoke, pushing her jacket off as she walked into your house, right through the front door. the snow from outside decorated the crown of her head and the tip of her nose. "i was looking everywhere for that." discarding her wet boots at the door. "thought i lost it."

"nope." you chimed from your place at your kitchen counter. your stools had been the very ones joel had built for you. well, not for you. he really built them for anyone but when no takers raised their hand, you sort of felt like you had to. ellie laughed at you, stating nobody would want to sit at your kitchen counter ever again. "right here."

ellie soon made her way across the kitchen, taking the sketchbook from your hands softly. "you didn't... look at anything, did you?"

you shook your head from side to side. "'course not, els." that beloved nickname that had her cheeks turning pink. "'s the same way i wouldn't want you reading my diary. i wouldn't look at your sketchbook like that." god only knew what ellie williams was drawing on the cream coloured paper.

she breathed a sigh of relief, believing you. "okay, thank you." though she still had a gnawing feeling at the bottom of her stomach. what if you did? i mean, you wouldn't do that much less lie to her afterwards. but what if. once the thought entered her head, she had a hard time getting it to leave again.

"wanna watch a movie?" you questioned, placing your chin on your hands that had been propped up by the elbows onto your kitchen counter.

ellie sat herself on one of the white stools, not the wooden ones joel had made. "whatcha have in mind, sweetheart?" it wasn't often that ellie came over for less than a day. i mean, you two were practically attached together by the hip. if ellie was at your house, and even just for something as small as to collect the sketchbook, she was more often than not staying over.

you hummed, your lips pressed together. try as you must but you never were able to play off the stammering and flustered appearance as she called you those pretty names. but that was sort of the whole point, she liked the way your cheeks heated up. "something christmassy." you spoke. "like the muppets or something."

the girl merely raised a scarred brow at you. "it's november."

you huffed out a sigh, rolling your eyes. "'s never to early for christmas, els."

that was enough for ellie, she supposed. after this short interaction in the kitchen, you both ended up sat atop your living room couch, you fishing around with the remote. thankfully, she'd agreed on the muppets christmas carol, and you were not about to give up the oppertunity to watch your favourite movie with your favourite person.

a hand came down to your side, gently rubbing up and down gently. suddenly, the buttons on the controller seemed hazy and you blinked not once, not twice but three times, a breath falling from your lips. her fingers were so long and pretty, gently soothing the bare skin from underneath your shirt, barely hitting against your stomach. it wasn't much but for a touch starved girl alike you, it was enough to have your stomach in knots, your mind blurring into one big watercolour.

ellie seemed to have taken notice to the way your entire demeanour changed, her brows barely moving. "something wrong, baby?" you couldn't tell if she were being serious or not. perhaps it was because everything seemed hazy but truly, you couldn't distinguish whether or not she was trying to fool around with you or if her words had really been spoken with such innocence.

did she know what she was doing to you?

you cleared your throat, bee stung lips rolling. "lets jus' watch the movie, els." pressing what you assumed was the start button and watching as the screen lit up. avoiding the question completely.

you'd missed the way her lips curved up into a smirk.

of course, ellie williams was well aware of the effect she had on you.

you see, you'd been hiding this 'crush' on your best friend for quite a long time now. but it was times like this that you swore she knew, she had to. of course, she had to be aware of the way you stumbled upon your words around her or the way your face seemed on fire when she used those pretty nicknames on you. that was the thing, she called you the names, nobody else, not even those fuckbuddies of hers.

it begged the question, where did you stand to her?

you'd been best friends for so long now, you were sure she merely called you these things and seemed so impossibly close because she was comfortable with you. otherwise, there'd somehow be a perfectly reasonable explanation as to why she treated you so differently. though, the bigger part of you, the one consumed by romance novels and love letters, the one that consumed romantic films as if it were food, that part of you wanted to believe it was because you were different. well, not you necessarily. you didn't want to be different to all the girls she fucked, well, you didn't really care. you just wanted ellie's feelings for you to be different.

you didn't want ellie to look at you like you were one of those girls that'd spend the night then leave by morning without so much as a breakfast or goodbye.

you wanted her to look at you like you were worth a million stars. the way you looked at her.

you'd been enamoured by her since the day you'd met her and it appeared as though it were obvious to just about everyone other than her. your best friends dina and jesse had instantly picked up on it when you were kids. it was a wonder to both you and them how ellie still hadn't found out.

but even when dina and jesse brought it up, whether there was a teasing tone etched to their words or perhaps they were asking a serious question, you did exactly what ellie told you to do in every other situation. deny, deny, deny. probably the only time you ever took on ellie's advice.

the one person or thing, i should say, that actually knows about this little 'crush' on the auburn haired girl was the little pink notebook tucked away in the side drawer of your room, right next to your desk.

seeing as it was merely ink to a page, you didn't have to hide. you didn't have to become flustered the way you did when talking to ellie and you didn't have to lie the way you did to dina and jesse. you could simply breathe again.

it was the thing you admired most about this little book, the freedom.

you could say anything you wanted about anyone you wanted and nobody would ever know. it'd never leave the little pink book. besides, the only person that knew about your diary was ellie and you trusted her enough not to look through it. the same way you'd never pick up ellie's sketchbook and look through it.

not only because she asked but because you too know what it's like to have something of yours worth so much value. not in money, of course, but in a sense that it truly was yours and nobody elses.

"yes i could." you bit back to the auburn haired girl that sat atop your bed. the movie had ended hours ago, you'd even thrown on another one. this time, ellie got to choose and as always, she chose a horror. you hated horror movies and yet every single time, without fail, ellie was throwing one on.

"no you couldn't." she rolled her eyes. the current debate was whether or not you would be able to survive the scream movies. you were sure that you would, without a doubt but ellie wasn't so sure. "you can barely sit through a horror movie let alone be in one."

"they're just not interesting." you all but pouted, your stomach leaning against the bed as you looked up at her, tight lipped smile on your lips. "they always have the same plot and they're so... gory." it wasn't that you were scared of them necessarily. don't get me wrong, sometimes you're halfway behind ellie, screaming in her shoulder at what you're watching but even then, you still wouldn't choose to watch horror movies even without all the jump scares.

"yeah, yeah." she rolled her eyes again, she seemingly always did that when you were around. "just say you're a pussy."

you narrowed your eyes at her. "am not."

"annabell." the one word sent shivers down your spine.

"that's different." you defended. you hated the movie more than anything else in the entire world, probably even more than you hated ellie's silly jokes (you loved them really).

she cocked a brow. "how so?"

"because!" you exclaimed, flopping onto your back. "that's a scary doll that'll break into my house while i'm sleeping and―i don't know find some really creepy way to kill me. but ghostface?" you huffed out a giggle. "I could take him on."

this time, ellie tilted her head, a smirk on her lips. "really?" as if she didn't believe you at all.

you frowned at that, did she not think you were strong? you liked to believe you were strong, strong enough to take on ghostface? perhaps not. "i could take you on." you scoffed, looking at her arms.

although you wish you hadn't. the way they flexed under her shirt was enough to have your stomach rolling. her arms were the very thing that had you squirming, they were so defined and toned, along with her stomach, showing you what true muscle she had. your head felt nauseous merely looking at her.

she was getting closer to you, watching as you observed her, eyes never leaving her body. "that so?" teasing voice.

but you didn't respond with words, a mere "mhm." falling from your lips though it sort of sounded like a mix between a hum and a whine, you were failing so horribly at keeping your little secret inside.

"show me then."

you'd done this with ellie before, giggles falling from the bedroom door as you attempted to pin ellie down but right now felt so different. the air was off and the tension was rising.

at first, you tried to play it off. you playfully grabbed at her wrist, trying to push her onto the bed. usually, she'd let you win. she loved to see that victorious smirk on your face after she let you beat her. in the back of your head you'd know, though. you could never beat ellie.

but this time, she didn't let you win.

this time, she flipped your wrists and then you completely. your eyes widened when you realised how strong she was. you always knew she was strong, don't get me wrong but never had you been pinned down by her with such force behind her hands. you felt your face heat up and your stomach swirl as the girl landed above you, her head looking down at you with a smirk playing on her lips.

this time, she won.

"whatever." with a little shove, you manged to push her off. she let you, grinning as she sat back on the bed, pride swelling in her chest as she watched you flusteredly try to hide your face. "i have to go shower."

"good." she joked, watching you get up from the bed. "you fucking stink." she watched you grin and stick your tongue out at her, she did the very same in response, watching you enter your bathroom with clothes that had been sitting on your chair now in your hands.

and then, she was alone.

you'd done this the other day, about a week ago and everything changed. it was the day that ellie did the very thing she swore she'd never do and yet she did it anyway.

she just couldn't help herself.

when you were in the bathroom, showering, she'd reached over to the nightstand to look at the photograph you had on it, you and her, icecream on her nose and smeared on your cheek. a week ago, she'd grinned at it, thinking it was the most heartwarming thing she'd seen in months. then, her eyes had glanced to the little pink book that lay beneath it.

a month ago, she'd swear she'd never go near the thing, ever.

a week ago, she opened it and her eyes scanned the page.

she hadn't had any bad intentions, not really. she was just curious as to what you wrote about, what you were keeping so hidden from your dear, beloved best friend. and when she started, she couldn't stop. she soon realised that the lovely words scrawled across the page weren't about how the sunlight peeked through the clouds or how the rain fell into the puddles collected on the ground. the words were about her.

soon enough, she'd made herself believe that if the words were about her, surely, she should be allowed to read it, it was only right.

she waited until the batrhoom door closed before she reached over to the side of the bed. she knew it was wrong, so wrong, it was an invasion of privacy and she knew you'd probably burst into tears if you'd seen it. but you know what they say, curiosity kills the cat.

she placed the book on the bed, attempting to pick up where she left off.

i just can't help but like her!! what does any of this meannnn??? you don't touch someone like that as a friend, you don't call your 'friends' names like that, it's not normal!! i'm reading into this. i always fucking do this, i read into it and then bam! that's it! i'm gonna loose her to this stupid crush. it's not a crush, i think i'm in love with her. no, i can't be. it's a silly crush and it'll be gone in a day. EVEN THOUGH IT'S BEEN YEARS!! i hate myself and the only option is to throw myself off of a fucking cli―

"els, i think i left my―" she'd never shut something so fast in her entire life. ellie's wide eyes shot up, looking at you standing in the front of the bathroom doorway. "w-what are you doing?" you'd barely registered what'd happened, your eyes already burning.

"shit." there really was no way of defending herself. you'd caught her red handed with the book sitting on the bed. "darling, i didn't―"

"you read it." you deadpanned, feeling the tears begin to well up in your eyes. "you read it, you promised me you wouldn't read it!"

but ellie was already standing from the bed, discarding the book completely. "i know, angel, i know, i'm sorry i jus―"

she was attempting to race to the other side of the room, get to you and presumably comfort you. she couldn't stand the tears in your eyes. "do you know?" that you've been helplessly in love with her the past four years and running? her silence gave a response but not one that you were particularly happy with. "do you know?"

her voice was a meak whisper. "yeah, baby, i know."

humiliation, embarrassment, shame,

all you could feel.

you'd been helplessly and hopelessly in love with ellie for as long as time yet never have you truly worried about it getting back to her. dina knew but she'd never squeal, neither would jesse if he knew what was good for him.

that little pink book didn't just know briefly of this 'fleeting crush' it knew everything, every minor detail. ellie consumed the pages, every pen stroke had her name on it. you were sure that the book knew more about this crush than you could ever grasp.

"hey, hey, don't cry." she was up in your face, hands attempting to hold your face, soothing you gently. "hey, i'm sorry, i'm sorry." she kept repeating everything but nothing could stop the way your lip wobbled and your eyes filled to the brim, the dam breaking as a fat tear rolled down your cheek. "okay, just―"

ellie was panicking. she knew how you could get, once you started crying it was damn near impossible to get you to stop. the way your lip trembled served as a constant reminder that she had been the one to put you in this situation, she had made you cry.

before you could even thin, there was a big black book being shoved in your hands. you didn't think to look down, mind to foggy and far away but ellie was already opening it up for you. "angel, look, see?" finally, you pulled your eyes away from the little pink book on your bed, eyes trailing down to the sketchbook. ellie briefly flickered through the pages, your brows pinched together. were they... drawings of you? "i do it too, see?" had anyone ever put their heart on the line merely to get you to stop crying? no. then again, nobody else had ever been quite like ellie williams.

you sniffled, glancing at one of the pictures. it looked so real, as if you were looking at yourself right now, eyes shut and lips sort of smashed against the pillow. "am i sleeping?" you sniffled, mouth sort of dry.

ellie found herself a dark crimson. "well―yeah." she only now realised what she'd done. she just wanted you to stop crying, she didn't think of what she was doing to herself, outing herself like that. then again, it was only right as she'd outed you before.

you swallowed thickly, wiping the tears away with your sleeve. "'s really stalkerish, els." you mumbled and she couldn't help but grin at you.

"i'm really sorry." her voice low enough to have you glancing up at her, straining your ears. "i shouldn't have read it."

you nodded your head. "you shouldn't have." but you couldn't help but feel a little weight lift off your chest. she knew now, at least you'd no longer have to hide it.

once again it left you wondering where you stood.

ellie could see the way your eyes went sort of foggy, blocking her out. she wondered what you were thinking now. "y/n?"

finally, you pulled your eyes away from the ground, looking at her perfect green eyes.

"i love you too."

main masterlist/ellie's masterlist

[heartfeltcherie]

omg i saw your requests are open and could you do something fluffy with lucifer? maybe like you see something and want to buy it, but can’t and so he surprises you.

i genuinely think i suck at writing for lucifer but will that stop me? nope!

☾. °.   ࿐  ` , •

lucifer was the sweetest boyfriend ever. always asking to hold your hand (though, you tell him he never has to ask), always making sure he’s walking on the outside of the sidewalk and you on the inside, always making pinkie promises with you. he was so unbelievably… perfect.

you were the first person he opened up to about lilith and the ideas he had had for heaven that made him fall into hell; and you listened with an open mind and a heart that you decided would beat solely for him.

it was now your fifth date, walking the streets of pentagram city. the day had gone beautifully with your arm linked around lucifer’s, the sky painted different shades of red. you followed in each other’s steps as fellow sinners were beginning to close up shop for the day.

there was one place in particular that caught your eye — ellie’s pride boutique. so good, you’ll double die! with the white lettering on a red sign, lights flashing all around it. it surely caught your attention. and lucifer noticed as he watched you with so much adoration in eyes as you went up to the big glass window, putting your hands beside your face to get a better look inside.

it was a beautiful dress, one that looked like it came out of the many fairytales you’d seen when you were still alive, a kid.

“see something you like, lovey?” lucifer’s beside you now, also taking a turn in looking through the shop’s window. “wow! that dress is amazing! i-i think it’d look really good on you… erm… know it would” he nervously laughs. “don’t you think?” you laugh at his awkwardness. it’s cute.

“i think it’s a very pretty dress, luci”

you’re putting your hand out to lay on lucifer’s chest, only to feel the soft material of his duck-patterned sheets. blinking your eyes open, rather confused, you sit up in your shared bed wondering where your doting boyfriend was.

and then you hear commotion coming from the living room.

was he creating more rubber duckies?

slipping out of bed to where the noise was coming from and just peaking your head around the corner, you see lucifer rushing around like a mad man.

and then you also see a mannequin… and that dress you saw yesterday in the window.

oh, you felt really bad.

“this has to be perfect! oh gosh, i hope she hasn’t woken up yet, i haven’t even made the tea ye- oh hi, dear!” his blonde locks are a mess and his coat is off, leaving you to see that striped shirt that you think he looks oh-so handsome in; your heart does flips on the spot. “hi, luci. what’s all this?” you point to the elephant in the room — or more-so, behind lucifer.

“oh! r-right!” he clears his throat, making sure his hair is back in order. “my dear, i saw the way your eyes lit up when you saw this dress in the window, and i couldn’t help myself. so… i woke up early this morning to go and make quick purchase of it”

you step closer, completely in awe over the fact that lucifer would do something like this for you… and the dress, of course.

“lucifer, it’s gorgeous… but you didn’t have to do this for me. i-i could’ve saved up money”

“and have you wait a year or a few months? honey, we both know you suck at saving… and spending”

“you have a point”

he takes the dress off the mannequin — with shaky hands and a bunch of nerves as to not ruin the dress. he puts the beautiful piece in your hands.

“here! go try this on! i’ll make us some morning tea!”

you make your way to the washroom and you have to admit, the dress suits you so well — you feel like a princess. your eyes keep focused on the mirror, not truly believing that such a beautiful piece of clothing was adorning your body and made you look like what fairytales were written about. you feel slightly nervous walking out to show lucifer.

he’s sat on the couch, a cup of tea in his hand as he sips from it and one resting on the coffee table in front of him.

“your highness”

lucifer looks over the rim of his cup and as soon as his eyes meet yours, he spats out his drink and becomes a coughing mess.

“oh my golly! darling! you look…” you giggle at his blushing face, curtseying as both hands hold the bottom fluff of your dress. you can’t deny, you’re a flustered mess yourself, wearing something so elegant in front of the king of hell. sure, you’re together, but his title still had that effect on you.

“yeah? how do i look?” you ask shyly. lucifer gets up from his spot, setting his tea cup gently beside yours. he now stands in front of you, his hand coming up underneath your chin, his palm soft against your skin.

“you look as beautiful as the day we met”

please reblog/comment, it’s greatly appreciated ♡

[seichira]

Hello! If I may, could I please ask for some headcanons of how Chigiri, Nagi, Bachira and Isagi would confess to the reader?

LOVESICK CONFESSIONS — blue lock!

✺ featuring — meguru bachira, hyoma chigiri, yoichi isagi, and seishiro nagi

✺ lumi’s note — this is my first time writing a request and coincidentally, also my first post for the bllk (best) boys! i hope you like it, anon!

MEGURU BACHIRA ༉‧₊˚.

i have a very good reason to believe that meguru bachira just one day wakes up and decides that he loves you and is going to tell you. don’t get me wrong—his epiphany may be sudden, but this has been a long time coming, and it’s high time he tells you.

since this morning, meguru bachira is a man on a mission. he is going to tell you that he has feelings for you, and it has to be today. to be honest, meguru isn’t the type of person to come up with those cheesy and romantic gestures. he finds his own ways to do things, and confessing isn’t any different.

just like clockwork, you approach the school quadrangle with tree boxes where you always sit down on to read books and sometimes watch bachira as he shows you his tricks in football. it has been a routine of some kind to meet there every after class and you both liked it.

as for you, the presence of the boy is comforting after a long day even though you’re both just doing your own thing, but you know that he’s there and it’s enough. of course, who can forget the ice cream he buys you as a thanks for accompanying him while he plays football?

today, meguru is already there when you arrived. as always, his feet are already playing with the ball in some way even if he’s still in his school uniform. he’s cute like this, you think. in his point of view, while you close the distance between the two of you, he gets more and more excited to tell you.

“y/n! think fast!” before you know it, the ball is already flying towards you. although spending a lot of time with him has resulted in you knowing how to at least catch a ball, you opt to dodge it this time.

“what the heck, megs? you trying to kill me?”

he chuckled, “you have to catch it, y/n!”

you looked at him incredulously, “no, thank you. i came here to peacefully read my new copy of pride and prejudice, so if you may—”

“aw, come on! pick it up! pretty please?”

okay, let’s get this out of the way—meguru bachira has irresistible puppy eyes that can get him anything he wants. so, you do it and you picked up the ball.

“tell me what it says, pretty.”

your brows furrowed in confusion, but your instincts guided you to search the ball for whatever he meant. and there, in big, black, bold letters—i love you.

the scoff that comes out of your lips in insincere and the smile that creeps into your face is a telltale sign of how you feel the same way.

he grins, “well?”

“think fast, meguru!”

you aim the ball towards his head and throw it playfully, which he catches without effort. he looks at you expectantly.

“i love you too, idiot.”

he may or may not have kicked the ball so hard it reached the rooftop of the nearest building to the point where it cannot be retrieved, but who knows?

HYOMA CHIGIRI ༉‧₊˚.

HYOMA CHIGIRI ༉‧₊˚.

oh dear, you have to tell him first or else, your happily ever after with him will end before it even started. he is very well aware of how he feels about you, but the 50/50 chance of you liking him back or not doesn’t sit well with him, and it makes him sick to his stomach imagining you rejecting him. he’d rather die than go through that heartbreak slash embarrassment. doesn’t do well with rejections. so, yeah.

it has been a frustrating month, to say the least, because chigiri has been acting weird. you guys went from basically acting like an old couple to casual acquaintances, and you don’t understand. not too long ago, everyone was expecting you to be together by the end of this year and truth to be told, you thought so too.

in chigiri’s defense, he is freaking out. his friends are pressuring him to man up and tell you how strongly he feels about you, but that is the problem. he feels too strongly and he’s afraid how rejection coming from your end will affect everything.

first, he’ll lose you and your friendship. followed by losing months of proper training because he’ll be nursing his heartbreak seriously. the odds aren’t in his favor, and it’s keeping him awake at night.

obviously, he has been thinking too much about this, that he hasn’t noticed how he’s hurting you in the present. he’s not showing up to your little picnics by the soccer field, he’s not responding to the cutesy sticky notes you hand to him in class, and he’s not even looking at you, much less talking to you.

“bro, you trying to become single forever, or what?” his friend, isagi, who absolutely has no game when it comes to girls as well, asks him.

“what do you mean?”

“just look at your pretty lil y/n,” isagi shamelessly points towards your direction in the cafeteria, and chigiri hurriedly puts his friend’s hand down.

but he sees what he means—you are looking at them with that faint melancholy in your eyes that you’re trying to hide. chigiri can only look away alongside the torturous feeling tugging at his heartstrings.

of course, she’s upset. i’m her friend and i haven’t been talking to her. i’ll just apologize once i sort these feelings out, he rationalizes.

that is only until you corner him as soon as he got out of the comfort room. you look confrontational and it has him terrified. he’s actually alone. with you. the person who he is head over heels in love with.

“spit it out, hyoma,” you demand with venom and hurt laced in your voice it almost makes him flinch.

since he’s backed against the wall and you’re standing inches right in front of him, he figures running away isn’t the right thing to do in this situation.

“tell me straight up and end my agony. i’ll try my best to fix whatever problem you have with me, but i can’t do that if you won’t tell me!”

“w-what do you mean?” is all he could muster because his brain can only process the fact that he can smell your perfume and natural scent from here and it is sending him on a frenzy.

god, he is so damn in love with you.

however, he is pulled out of his reverie when he hears your small sniffles and when he catches sight of your tears.

no, no, no.

don’t cry. not for me. not for anyone.

“y/n—”

“is it because you found out that i’m in love with you, hyoma? is… is that why you’ve been avoiding me? you could have just told me and i’d do my best to fall out of love with you if that’s what it takes for you to remain friends with me—”

a string of patience breaks within him, and with that comes a breath of pure relief as he grabs your nape to pull you in on a kiss.

“but i don’t wanna be friends,” he whispers in between kisses. “i love you too. i love you, baby.”

ISAGI YOICHI ༉‧₊˚.

he claims that he has loved you ever since you were both kids to everyone who asks him who you are (yes, everyone knows that this nerd is in love with you except… well, you). it was only when he had to go away to blue lock for some time that he realizes he needs to confess to you before spending time apart, and also because he is scared he’d lose you to your other admirers.

isagi is restless.

it’s valentine’s day and he just witnessed your locker throw up a bunch of love letters from losers who are confessing their undying love for you. idiots. if anyone here has undying love for her, it’s me.

despite knowing that no one will love you more than he does, he is still all fidgety and nervous because unlike those losers, he hasn’t confessed to you.

it’s ridiculous. you have been together basically since kindergarten and has been inseparable since then. both of you have seen each other in their highs and lows. you have laughed and cried together. you have made plans for a future where the other is present.

isn’t it already a given that he loves you? does he really have to say it at this point? you must know, right? you know him. he doesn’t even have to talk and you already know what he’s thinking. there is no way that you don’t know he loves you.

“oh, wow—this is a lot!” you exclaim, mostly thankful for all the love that literally just poured out of your locker for you. “it’s like twice as many as last year.”

you start picking up the letters and chocolates on the ground, which isagi helps you with. he is the designated eater of the chocolates you can’t finish.

“too bad they don’t got a chance—” he starts, and you interrupt him to disagree.

“i don’t think so, yoichi. we’re in the right age to be dating people. also, you’ll be leaving me alone once you attend that training, so it wouldn’t hurt to give one of them a chance.”

poor isagi deflates upon hearing that. it never occurred to him that you will be with someone else. to him, it will always be you and him. there could be no extras in your story.

oh, boy. was he wrong to be so complacent. apparently, you have no damn clue that your childhood friend has always loved you. and now, he’s on a dilemma and his other friends have to hear about it.

“it’s your fault, though?” nagi states the obvious. “you never told her, so how’d she know? boring.”

meguru nods eagerly, “but it’s fine, yoichi! there will always be someone out there for you. but of course, you’ll have to suffer watching her with someone else first.”

when he realizes that his friends are no help at all, he takes matters into his own hands and put aside his doubts for a while to muster up the courage to finally confess to you after years of pining.

the day before he goes away for training, he offers to walk you home like he always does. the difference of today from all the other days is that he pulls your wrist just right before you disappear into your door.

“wait a minute,” he says.

you face him again, and without a word, he locks a necklace around your neck with a pendant of a small soccer ball with his initial in the middle. your lips part in awe and in realization of what he is about to say, but you find yourself speechless at how he’s looking at you with the softest eyes he could give only you, with the setting sun behind him.

“i never told you this, but i want you to rememember it starting from now. i love you. i want you to be mine, and mine alone. and this may sound selfish, but will you wait for me until i get back?”

you sigh and caress his cheek on your palm. “honey, i have always loved you too. i am yours already. of course, i will wait for you. so don’t worry about me and do your best over there, alright?”

“you’ll be here when i get back?”

“i’ll be here when you get back.”

SEISHIRO NAGI ༉‧₊˚.

the realization hits him in the middle of a football game. he can’t stop thinking about you and it has been affecting his games. there’s no other explanation for that, right? he likes you. and he has to tell you in front of the ocean of people watching because he just can’t wait but ease the bugging feeling in his stomach.

nagi is not playing like usual, and coach ego has scolded him like five times since the game started.

him being himself, he can’t even bring himself to care because his mind is plagued with thoughts of you. he wants to play and see the field on a levelheaded point of view to match with isagi’s tactics, but boy, are you annoying. you are all he can think about, and it is frustrating him!

“what kinda bullshit was that, nagi?!” reo shouts at him from across the field because the white-haired boy failed to catch the ball meant for him. “focus!”

“i’m really fucking trying, man!” he shouts back painfully and truthfully, because he really is trying but it doesn’t seem to be working.

the game continues on and all nagi can think about are your lips and how they move whenever you smile, your eyes whenever you talk about something you love, your hair when the autumn air makes it dance like leaves on trees, or your small pout when he refuses to give in to your whims!

“goddammit!” he frustratingly utters as he tries to steal the ball from the opponent. he is too close to succeeding until his brain once again flashes a memory of you laughing like the beautiful human being you are.

“you got this, sei!” you cheer from the bleachers, and your voice is much too distinct for his ears not to hear it. almost faster than the speed of light, he looks at you. his breath gets stuck in his throat as soon as he sees you in his jersey, waving up a huge banner with his name on it. in that split second, he got tackled by the players running on the field.

“fucking hell! that’s it!” he grumbles. “oh, y/n. you are damn annoying. making me fall in love with you like a fool. annoying! annoying! annoying!”

ego substitutes him out of the game, and he takes that chance to climb up the bleachers to approach you. the game is yet to restart, so a lot of eyes are on him and his annoyed expression.

you, however, know better. he may be annoyed, but definitely not by you, even though he’s staring straight at you ask he walks. you smile at him.

“you okay, sei?” you ask in concern because he just got tackled to the ground moments before reaching you. “you’ve been out of focus—”

“because you’re here, dammit.”

you laugh through your nose, “what? i thought you wanted me to come watch the game, seishiro..”

“can’t focus now. i don’t know what to do. i can’t stop thinking about you. what’re you doing to me, huh? stop it right now! we need to win!”

“i’m not doing anything, though?”

“that! that pout! stop it!”

seishiro nagi looks incredibly cute like this. he is literally towering over you in his 6’3 prowess and yet, he throws tantrums like a little boy.

“what exactly am i doing to you, sei?”

“you make me want to leave the damn field so i can climb up here to kiss you! because i love you! and i can’t stop thinking about you in that huge jersey!”

your heart overflows with the sudden confession from the boy you have liked for some time now, plus the fact that you have an entire stadium before you, but you are not complaining. not at all.

you take the initiative to tiptoe and kiss seishiro nagi in hopes that it will calm him down to last the game.

“i love you too, sei. no need to be so restless, hm? i’ll be watching from here and i’m not going anywhere, so you better focus!”

like the small peck wasn’t enough, he carries you by your waist to press a deeper kiss on your lips that he has only ever dreamed of kissing.

“okay. i guess that helps. see you after the game.”

he scores the winning goal, and everyone can tell that he is impatient. they are right. as soon as the game ends, he runs to celebrate with you in his arms.

[thecrystalquill]

A/N: Chapter fifteen is finally here! What do you think of the moodboard? Leave a like :) also a quick note, I won't tag anyone who doesn't like the series - I think that's only fair...

Masterlist Series Masterlist Introduction Your First Year Letter

Chapter Fifteen ~ Yuletide Shenanigans

Deputy Headmistress McGonagall’s office was smaller than she’d expected, but no less grand. The heavy curtains that framed the window were a proud Gryffindor red, the walls were lined with a tidy display of shelves, and the table was organised and neat. (Y/N) had been sat in a chair beside the desk for almost fifteen minutes, waiting for her escort. She was beginning to get a little impatient.

She had taken to reading the spines on the shelf when the woman in question finally re-entered, followed by Albus Dumbledore himself.

It was the first time she had ever directly met the Headmaster of Hogwarts, and she would remember it well. He looked older up close, and shorter; perhaps the illusion of his height was simply due to the fact that she had only ever seen him standing on the elevated platform in the Great Hall, making speeches and what-not. His robes were dark blues paired with white, and his hands were crossed in front of him, a bone-coloured wand peaking from behind them. But his eyes were what struck her; sharp and keen despite his age, eyes that had seen so much of the world, and looked at her with a practiced gentleness that hid something deeper.

“Thank you for waiting, Miss Addams.” McGonagall said with a kind smile, and (Y/N) could finally pull her eyes away from the headmaster. “Headmaster Dumbledore has come to see that our travel goes smoothly.”

“Our?”

“It would be irresponsible,” Began the headmaster with a smile as (Y/N) grabbed her coat, “to allow you to travel to Hogsmeade unsupervised.” Dumbledore made his way towards the great fireplace, and brought out a small, black cauldron from its mantle.

“Now, grab your things, dear.” Said McGonagall with a gesture as she approached the unlit fire.

(Y/N) did as she was asked, taking her travel-sized case in one hand and the bat cage that contained a disgruntled young cat in the other, her long black coat draped over her arm. When she followed the woman, she’d expected her to head towards the door, but it seemed the professor had another exit in mind.

“You may be unfamiliar with Floo travel, I presume?” McGonagall asked as she took a handful of grey-green ash from the small cauldron in the headmaster’s hand. (Y/N) nodded and the deputy-headmistress gave her a reassuring smile. “Not to worry, just repeat after me.” She bid a short farewell to Dumbledore, took (Y/N)'s bat cage in hand, and then stepped into the blackened hearth, the top of her hat bending against the entrance. “The Hog’s Head Inn.” She articulated, and with a drop of ash and a flash of green smoke, (Y/N) was awed to see no sign of her Transfiguration teacher at all.

“Now you, Miss Addams.” Dumbledore encouraged and held out a hand for her to shake, then held out the cauldron. “Simply say where you’d like to go and throw the Floo powder at your feet.”

Stepping into the heath with her things in one hand and a fistful of green ash in the other, (Y/N) took a breath and followed the instructions. And in a flash of green smoke, she felt the floor disappear.

When the smoke cleared, the first thing she noticed was the warm light that filled the room. The second, and most welcome, was the scent of harsh sulphur being replaced with cigar smoke. There was only one person she knew that carried cigars with them at all times.

“Cucarachita!” Within seconds, (Y/N) was pulled into the enthusiastic embrace of her father, hugging her so tightly that she almost couldn’t breathe. “Oh, you have been missed.”

“I missed you too, Papa.” She replied, though her voice was muffled through the fabric of his blazer.

After nearly a whole ten seconds, her father finally pulled back to look at her, holding her at arms length to take her in. (Y/N) looked him over, too; his hair was combed back with his potent black cream, his moustache freshly trimmed, and he was wearing a new vest – brown, red, and black (of course) knitted wool, to keep him warm in the freezing Scottish winter. “(Y/N),” he said after a moment, with a gleam in his eye, “what are they feeding you? You’re taller already!”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes and pushed him away, tugging on the hem of her turtle-kneck. “You’re exaggerating, Father.”

Gomez only laughed and patted her head (much to her disapproval), but was soon distracted by a hand snaking up his arm. “Don’t go keeping her all to yourself now, mon cher.” Her mother interrupted, now standing beside him and getting a good look at her eldest daughter.

“Oh, of course not, cara mia.” Her father replied as he took his wife’s elegant hand into his hold and began pressing kisses into her pale skin.

(Y/N) rolled her eyes – she’d only been there for a minute and already they were all over each other. “Father, please.” She groaned, seeing McGonagall standing to the side with wide eyes. “Can’t you keep your hands off each other for five minutes?”

“If history is any indication – no.” The drab voice of her little sister came from behind, almost startling her (she must have been practising her lurking).

The sisters shared a look, an agreement that they had much to discuss later – in private. “Wednesday,” (Y/N) nodded, receiving a nod back; they hadn’t the most affectionate relationship.

It seemed the greetings just kept coming; Pugsley slammed himself into her for a quick (but extremely tight) hug, Grandmama pinched her cheeks, Lurch smiled and groaned warmly, and even Thing seemed to have missed her with how he ran up to squeeze her shoulder (conveniently, while McGonagall wasn’t looking).

“Well, now that we’re all settled,” Said the deputy headmistress kindly as they all gathered on the couches in the guest sitting room, “I presume that (Y/N) will be spending the holiday here with you?”

“Of course, if she’d like to.” Morticia replied from her seat beside the older woman. “Though, she did mention how she wanted to stay at Hogwarts to keep her friend company.”

“Oh, I see,” McGonagall replied with a hint of confusion, “and who would that be--?”

“—Speaking of Hogwarts!” (Y/N) interrupted quickly, hoping she hadn’t sounded too obviously suspicious. “Wednesday was just telling me how much she wishes she could see it. Right, Wednesday?” She emphasised with a hard look and a subtle nudge.

Wednesday cleared her throat and put down the teacup from her lips, taking the hint. “Right, yes. I said that.” She nodded along, looking to the adults with as much sincerity as she could. “We’d all like to visit.”

“Oh! Can we?” Pugsley enthusiastically asked with a wide grin, sitting up straighter on the floor and staring excitedly at the woman.

“A superb idea!” Their father agreed, leaning forward as well. “What do you say, Professor?

“Yes,” Morticia smiled softly, “it would be so wonderful to see where our daughter stays. Would that be possible, Professor McGonagall?”

McGonagall seemed awfully put on the spot, placing her teacup back on the table to fold her hands in her lap. “Well, it’s perfectly reasonable, I suppose.” She began. “But I would have to discuss it with Headmaster Dumbledore first…”

“I thought you were the deputy headmistress.” Wednesday said slyly. “You need his permission to let us see (Y/N)’s new home?”

McGonagall pursed her lips, not easily fooled, it seemed. “He is the headmaster, Miss Addams. He must be notified on all things that go on in his school.”

“Well then, you can tell him all about it when we get there.” Said Granmama as she rose from her chair by the fire to grab her shawl. “Now, show us that disappearing trick, will you?” She demanded as she walked over to the empty hearth from which they entered. Crazy or not, Grandmama was good at getting her way.

With a composed sigh, McGonagall stood and accepted the insistence. “No need, Ms Addams, I will arrange for a carriage.” She relented, and swiftly left the room to find the owner.

Wednesday and (Y/N) exchanged small smirks as their family discussed among themselves, satisfied with the outcome. So far, everything was going according to plan.

From the moment they stepped out of the carriage, the whole Addams family had hardly stopped gasping, pointing, complimenting, and displaying all other signs of awe – even Wednesday could hardly stop looking at every exquisite feature of the castle. (Y/N) was much reminded of her first day, which already seemed so long ago; she too had been so entranced by Hogwart’s beauty, just the same. From the entrance courtyard covered in snow, all the way to the Headmaster’s office, and down again to the Great Hall, every Addams had enjoyed the tour greatly.

A few students lingered at the dining tables, playing games and talking and what-not, but had quickly been distracted by the entrance of the infamous Addams clan. (Y/N) could already smell the reek of growing gossip and rumours.

“This is Hagrid, Hogwart’s groundskeeper,” McGonagall introduced as they came to a halt at the staff table, where a giant of a man was sat talking with Flitwick, who looked all the more short beside him, “and Professor Flitwick, our Charms teacher.”

“Very nice to meet you,” her father smiled as he shook each of their hands, “Gomez Addams.”

“What a surprise,” Said Professor Flitwick as Morticia gave him her hand next, followed by Grandmama.

“An intriguing subject.” Her mother complimented sweetly. “Tell me, Professor, how is our daughter doing in your class?”

“Well, yes, very well.” He replied, nodding at (Y/N). “Always finishes her work, hands her homework in on time. And a fast learner – much potential.”

The approval warmed her cold heart.

“So, Mr Hagrid,” her father began, “groundskeeper, eh? Good job.”

The large man agreed and smiled, and (Y/N) thought it much a shame that they had never really met. “That it is, Mr Addams. An ‘ard job, but a goodun. Always summin’ to be done.”

Now that a sufficient amount of small talk had been had, Professor McGonagall drew attention back to their reason for coming. “Hagrid, I was hoping that you might give our guests a tour of the school.”

“Oh aye, o’course I would.” Hagrid agreed and made his way around the table, startled for a second to find himself only a foot taller than Lurch.

“Marvelous.” Said McGonagall. “I have much to be getting on with, it was very nice to meet you.” She shook their hands and bid them farewell, leaving them in the safe care of the groundskeeper.

“And ‘ere we ‘ave the library.” Hagrid announced as they entered the grand room, yet again stunning the family with its sheer enormity.

“Impressive.” Gomez nodded as he looked up at the tall ceiling, and greeted the librarian at her desk.

Grandmama shrugged. “I’ve seen bigger.”

“You have not.” Pugsley insisted, only to be shushed.

The group walked further in, talking with the groundskeeper pleasantly. When they had seen enough, they turned to leave for the long walk to the Gallery. It was then that the two sisters seized the opportunity to fall behind.

“This way.” (Y/N) whispered after their family left, guiding the younger girl further into the library. They hurried quietly, unsure of how long it would be before their family noticed their absence – or worse, they were caught by Pince.

Soon they came to the back of the library, where they stood before the dimly lit windows that hid more books from their reach. “What’s this?” Wednesday asked.

“The Restricted Section.” (Y/N) replied, walking along further until she found the locked entrance. “I heard Hermione talking about it, she said it’s kept locked at all times. But I figured, even if there’s magic to get in the way, it’s nothing you can’t get through. You’re the best lock-pick I know.”

“That almost sounded like a compliment,” Wednesday said as she took a few tools from her coat pocket and knelt down to the lock.

Rolling her eyes, (Y/N) turned to keep look-out from the shadow of a bookcase. “It wont happen again.”

Without a moment to spare, Wednesday inserted her tools into the keyhole and got to work, carefully picking away at the inside mechanics. With any regular lock, she would have had it open in less than a minute, but it seemed this one was proving stubborn.

“The stupid thing is cheating.” She grumbled as she inserted a third pin and tried to work them all at once.

(Y/N) glanced from around the corner, seeing no movement for some minutes now. “How so?”

“Every time I make some progress, it goes and reverses it again.” Wednesday explained through gritted teeth.

(Y/N) might have replied with something helpful, if she hadn’t spotted Pince pushing the return cart in their direction, stopping every so often to place some books away. “Hurry up, Pince is coming.” She stressed, hoping to Hell that the librarian had no need to travel so far, and that the rumours of her superhuman hearing were simply rumours.

“I’m trying.”

“Well try faster.”

“Would you like to take over? Because I’ll stop if you want.” Wednesday sassed, and (Y/N) bit her tongue before she made true on her word.

With every step closer Pince took, (Y/N) could feel her heart pacing faster – if she got caught, would she be expelled? Because she didn’t think she could handle the shame.

Pince was just two cases away when (Y/N) heard a quiet mechanical click and a sigh from her sister. “It’s open.”

“Great, now we have to go.” She replied, ignoring Wednesday’s protest as she yanked her up and pulled her around the side of the bookcase, narrowly escaping Pince’s sight.

“What are you doing? We could have gone in.” Wednesday whispered furiously as she was dragged against her will towards the library doors.

“Not without being seen – there’s no way Pince would’ve missed that. And we don’t even know if the door creaks!” (Y/N) argued as they finally made it to the hallway. “If we were caught, it would have all been over. I’m not risking it.”

A few paces away from the turn into the next hallway, Wednesday finally pulled her arm out of her sister’s grasp and hid her pins safely back inside her pocket. “Then when are we going back?”

(Y/N) shook her head and buttoned up her cardigan, then held a finger up to her lips as they passed through the Gallery Hall, extremely aware of the keen ears of the portraits and how they loved to gossip. “We aren’t. I’ll sneak in after curfew--”

“—I want to go in too!” Wednesday argued, only to be shushed as (Y/N) pointed towards the portraits again. She clearly hadn’t expected them to be alive.

“The only time I can sneak in is after curfew, and you’ll be staying at the inn.” (Y/N) explained, and hurried her along to find the others as quickly as they could before she could argue much more.

(Y/N) did wish that Wednesday could go with her; breaking and entering wasn’t half as much fun alone. And she felt a little guilty that there wasn’t any more she could do. But perhaps a peek at the Necromancy book would cheer her up. If not, she wouldn’t be hearing the end of this for a very long time.

The Hog’s Head was a fine establishment; from the crooked ashen pillars of the entrance to the narrow wooden hallways of the rooms. The Addamses spent their first afternoon together in the main lounge of the pub, sharing a creaky wooden table by a large window. It was a wonderful atmosphere. There were a few dozen people dotted about, eating and drinking and laughing – a few were playing card games and losing money, some smoking large pipes, and the odd couple making dodgy deals concealed by the shadows. There were few odd decorations for the season, wilting wreaths and dried up pine garlands with more needles on the floor than the branches. Drinks were refilled constantly, and the food was hearty (though (Y/N) was surprised to realise she much preferred the food at Hogwarts), and the conversation was endless. This was how they spent their Sunday, all the way through the day until late night.

(Y/N) was retelling the events of the Quidditch match, sparing no details missed in the letter she’d sent home after, and they listened with great interest and occasional laughs.

“...So I followed her all the way to the teachers’ stands, and she tells me that it’s Snape whose responsible for Harry’s broom trying to knock him off.” She explained, her fruitcake long forgotten in front of her. “So I took out my matches – because you know I always carry matches-” her family nodded and agreed with variations of ‘of course’ and ‘obviously’ “-and I tried to light his cloak on fire. But the stupid thing was damp, so Hermione gets out her wand and does this spell I’ve never even heard before, and it just goes up in flames – of course, I’d already warmed it up for her. Then there’s shrieks and stomping, and we run all the way down to the bottom in time for the end of the game.”

Her father let out a deep laugh, and beamed at his daughter. “Excellent story!”

Grandmama cackled along and held her mead up in a toasting gesture. “Good girl – always good to have a friend who’ll start fires with you.”

“We’re looking forward to meeting her,” her mother said. “Have you made any more friends?”

“Well, there’s Saoirse – she’s my roommate.”

“What about enemies?” Wednesday interrupted, swirling her drink around in her cup as she feigned disinterest. “Tell me you at least have one of those.”

Enemy may have been a strong word; there were certainly those she didn’t care for, but she hadn’t been fortunate enough to find someone really worth torturing. “There are plenty of unlikeable people to choose from,” (Y/N) said instead, “the potions professor, for a start – and that obnoxious Malfoy boy. But so far I haven’t found one worth the time.”

Grandmama seemed to pick her head up from her potent drink at whatever (Y/N) had said, something certainly had caught her interest. She wrapped her ratty black shawl around her and leaned across the table to shush Gomez, who had started speaking of his favourite nemesis from his own school years. “Malfoy?” She repeated, her croaky voice taking an edge to the name as a scowl came across her wrinkled features.

(Y/N) nodded in confusion, eager to know what her grandmother had to say on the matter – whatever had her mouth twisting. “What about him, Grandmama?”

To their surprise (but, frankly, not shock), the woman spat at the mention. “What about him? It was them Malfoys that wanted us outed!”

“What are you talking about?” Said Wednesday, just as interested as everyone else, but bored of waiting for her to get to the point already.

Grandmama sat back in her chair, the wood creaking quietly at the movement. “We Addamses were a part of the Sacred Twenty-nine, you know? The pure families, they called themselves. We were as worthy as any of them – more, even – but they were jealous. That’s what Mother always said. Jealous of our money and our power.” From her pocket, Grandmama pulled out a brown smoking pipe and a tin of smoking tabacco and herbs, which she stuffed in as she spoke, then let Thing light it for her when she was done. She took a few puffs before she returned to her story. “When the family started birthing Squibbs, it was them who wanted us out – the Malfoys and the Blacks. Called us ‘tainted’ and ‘impure’. They’re the reason we were outcasted. Said they couldn’t be associated with us. Said our families couldn’t mix. Said a lot of things, but it worked. Then it was the Sacred Twenty-Eight.”

There was a pause when she was done, tobacco and mugwort wafting in the stale air as the family considered her words. It seemed to (Y/N) that there was still plenty that she had yet to reveal about their family’s past; still so much to learn.

It also seemed to her, that there was more to the Malfoys than money and misplaced pride.

For two beautifully sullen days, all thoughts of school and mysteries had vacated (Y/N)’s mind. There were no ghostly messages, no age-old notes, and no suspicious books at the bottom of her travel case. She shared a room with her siblings, ate with her family as they would back home, go for walks in the freezing snow and hail, and lurk around the town looking for things to do.

It was three in the afternoon, the sky was grey with winter clouds, and the children were playing in the street, throwing compact ice-balls at each other (and the occasional pedestrian who dared get caught in the cross-fire). There were no rules in an ice-ball fight, a winner was only established when all other players had to forfeit; injuries were guaranteed.

The two sisters had cruelly decided to work together against their little brother, leaving him vulnerable on both sides. As they often were when they worked as a team, the girls were formidable and relentless, meaning Pugsley’s only choice was to run and hide, dodging hand-pressed wedges of ice from every angle. It was a dog-eat-dog game; as soon as the runt was out of the picture, they would turn on each other.

They spotted Pugsley run between a crowd of shoppers as they were making more ammo, and quickly followed in his direction. Pugsley’s small boots made half-sized footprints in the snow, and they easily followed them to an alley. Wednesday peaked around the corner and saw that it lead to a ten-foot – the narrow backstreet behind two rows of houses where the bins were kept. “Go to the other side and block his path.” She mumbled and threw one end of her grey scarf around her shoulder. “I want him cornered.”

The girls shared a mischievous look, and (Y/N) nodded before running down the street to find the other end of the ten-foot. Eight houses later, she came to the opening and peeked around the side. She saw Wednesday at the other end, and they both started down each side, looking behind every item that Pugsley could use for cover, until (Y/N) spotted a footprint in the snow a few meters away. With a predatory stare, she creeped forward even more quietly, her footsteps barely crunching the snow, until she just saw the tail of a black coat behind a bin. Wednesday saw her stop, and came forward with her weapon raised, following the footprints until they were just a few steps from his hiding place. “Pugsley.” Wednesday called in a taunting voice. “We know you’re there.”

There was no sound from behind the bin, and if it weren’t for the coat and his tracks, (Y/N) might have doubted for a second if he was there. “You might as well come out now.” She said from the other side, wielding her own ice-ball. “Surrender while you can.”

“I’m not surrendering!” They heard, and (Y/N) could hardly help the evil smile that broke loose on her lips at the slight tremble of fear Pugsley tried to hide under his stubborn determination.

“You’re small and weak,” said Wednesday, “you’re not going to win. We overpower you in both numbers and size. This is your last chance to give up.”

There was a pause. For a moment, they thought he might actually surrender, but then (Y/N) saw movement from the side. “He’s sneaking past!” She warned, and the girls started to chase him back the way they’d followed him. Wednesday cursed as her ice-ball barely made it half the distance to her target – the kid was swift and full of energy, much to her chagrin – but he turned to look over his shoulder for a second, which slowed him a little. (Y/N) stopped quickly and threw the ice she was carrying as hard as she could in his direction; it flew with precision for a longer distance than she’d expected, but landed perfectly just as he turned around. Bullseye.

Pugsley fell back with a yell as the ice hit him right on his forehead, knocking him off balance just as Wednesday caught up and threw all the rest of her ammo at him while he blocked his face from more damage. “Stop! Stop! You got me!” The boy cried as his sister pelted more snow and ice at him.

When (Y/N) reached them, Wednesday had Pugsley pinned with a knee on his chest as she compressed another ice-ball. “Admit defeat.” She demanded and raised her weapon up.

Pugsley hesitated, a defiant stare on his face even as his sister kneed him harder in the chest.

“Say it.”

The boy sighed and sank his head back into the snowy ground, eyeing her ice-ball wearily. “Wednesday is superior and I am weak.” He groaned – she had him say it every time she beat him, and he hated it more and more each time.

“Good.” She said, then threw the ice at him anyway before she stood.

“Hey!” He yelled as it hit him in the cheek. “Cheat!”

Wednesday dusted herself off and shrugged carelessly. “You let your guard down.”

“Alright, that’s enough.” (Y/N) smirked as she leant a hand to her little brother, observing the new red marks on his face (she couldn’t help but feel a little proud at the bruise growing above his brow where she’d hit him). “Mother and Father want us back for dinner soon – we’ll still need time to clean up.”

"Why does she always make me say that?" Pugsley grumbled as he rubbed his sore cheek.

"Don't worry about it, Pugsley," (Y/N) assured, "one day you'll beat her, and it'll feel a whole lot better when you make her say it instead."

A second later, she felt a harsh hit on her shoulder, and pieces of ice and snow sprayed across her face. (Y/N) turned quickly to glare at her sister’s audacity, curling her fist in anger. “You are a cheat!” She scolded.

“And a winner.” Wednesday almost smiled, clearly proud of herself. “Now, what do you say?”

“I am not saying it.” She answered back, facing the girl fully and glaring daggers down at her (there was barely two inches between them, but (Y/N) was sure to always hold it above her). “Besides, only a coward shoots someone in the back.”

Wednesday squinted her eyes. “I’m not a coward – I shot you in the shoulder.”

“How about I shoot you in the face?”

A throat was cleared from beside them, and all three siblings turned at the intrusion.

Grandmama gave a croaky laugh at their antics. “I heard your squabbling from the inn.” She said with a half-grin, pointing the end of her walking stick at them. “You know, when I was your age, we used to shoot at each other with real weapons.” She sighed nostalgically. “Must get you some one day. Well – time to go in now, go on.” She encouraged with a poke at their legs, before she shuffled along after them, using her stick to be sure she wouldn’t slip on any ice.

The morning sun was peaking in through the inn’s dirty, frosted windows and between the edges of the old browning drapes, slowly waking its inhabitants from their slumber. (Y/N) ignored it for a while, turning in her lumpy bed and away from the pesky sunlight that interrupted her sleep. All was silent.

For a moment.

Just as she was about to drift back into unconsciousness, a sudden weight pushed down on the mattress and bounced her body about. “(Y/N)! Wake up!” Pugsley cried as he bounced on his knees, shaking her shoulder with both hands to be sure she couldn’t ignore him. “Wake up!”

“Go away.” She grumbled and kicked him from under the duvet, satisfied when he tumbled loudly to the cold, wooden floor. It didn’t seem to stop him for long, though, as he stood and shook her about once more.

“Get up!” He yelled, growing more frustrated as he then crossed the room to throw a pillow at Wednesday (it was wise to keep a safe distance from her).

Wednesday’s eyes shot open and glared at him immediately, already in a foul mood as she took the pillow and launched it at his face, making him wince as it struck his new bruise. “You insufferable little troll – shut up before I stuff that pillow down your throat.”

“It’s Christmas!” Pugsley cried, unaffected by his sister’s (very possible) threat. He ran to grab the robe from the end of his bed and quickly pushed his arms through the sleeves, then shoved on his slippers and made for the door.

(Y/N) sat up and rubbed her eyes, finally awake enough for the information to process. “Pugsley,” she called as he’d stepped into the hallway, “don’t wake Mother and Father, remember. Knock.”

A haunted look passed over the boy’s face for a half-second, before he quickly nodded and went on his way.

(Y/N) sat up and yawned, her breath fogging up in the chilly room. She could hardly believe how quickly time had passed already; but excitement bubbled in her gut nonetheless. Tugging on her own slippers and wrapping herself in her plum-coloured robe, she scooped Jinx up from where he had been sleeping in the warm space between the duvet and her pillows, and made her way to her sister.

Wednesday was laid back again, arms crossed over her chest in her usual corpse-like pose and braids tucked under her head. Her dark eyes opened as (Y/N) approached. Neither girl said anything for a moment, until eventually Wednesday rolled her eyes and began to get out of bed, just in time to hear Pugsley running down the stairs with Thing trailing behind.

There were no other guests staying at The Hog’s Head for the occasion, so the family had decided to rent out a sitting room. The inn’s owner had a uniquely decorated pine tree stood in the corner, covered in cracked baubles and ratty ribbons, and topped with the decapitated head of a porcelain doll with pink cheeks and a missing eye. The fire was lit too, but not roaring, making the room comfortable but not warm. A spider crawled along the wall towards the window, where it spun a web of its own design; (Y/N) briefly wondered how it had lived into the winter, but quickly decided that it was unimportant. It all looked wonderfully wrong.

“Good morning, girls.” Their mother greeted from a chair, making the other few present turn towards the entrance. She looked as put together as always, in her velvet black robe that trailed the floor, with a look of contentment on her grey and white dusted features. “Did you have sweet nightmares?”

Wednesday moved to the sofa by the tree, where Thing was patiently tapping a finger on the arm, waving at her as she sat. “I dreamt of nothing.” She stated with a hint of boredom, then turned to eye the boxes of gifts sat under the dying plant beside her. She took up conversation with the hand, focusing on his rapid movements and spelling.

Morticia looked to her eldest daughter for her answer, who placed the cat in her arms on the back of the chair by the fire and sat. “And you, (Y/N)?”

“Yes, Mother,” she replied, “I had very interesting nightmares.” In the excitement of the morning, she had almost forgotten about the strange dreams that had tortured her sleep. She dreamed of drowning in thousands of library books; of dark figures lurking in corners; of a haggard old crow that did nothing but stare; of storms and riddles and corpse voices that gave unintelligible instructions. For a few days, she had simply been a girl spending the winter holidays with her family, and with one haunting dream, she was once again reminded of a responsibility that she did not want.

“How lovely,” her mother replied, then was soon distracted by the entrance of her husband.

Donned in his black and red robe, Gomez Addams had the incredibly important duty of bringing the perfect morning coffee to his wife – a duty he took very seriously. Before affording distractions to anything else, he set the tray on the table beside her and poured the scalding drink from the teapot into a dainty teacup and handed it over. “There, Tish. Dangerously hot and lightly sweetened with cyanide, just how you like it.” He smiled as she took a sip, then sat beside her and kissed her knuckles. “Just how I like you.”

The three children screwed up their faces and shared a look of disgust, but said nothing. It was one thing that (Y/N) had not missed about her parents.

Grandmama was the last to enter, shuffling over to drop herself down onto the last remaining seat as Lurch brought over her usual morning tea. Soon, everyone was greeted and comfortable, and Pugsley was finally able to ask for his gifts.

Gomez laughed heartily and nodded. “Go ahead, my boy.” He said, and with that, the three siblings sat themselves on the floor and began to rummage for their names.

Pugsley was the first to find his name, and wasted no time in opening the box to find a grotesque shrunken head. He took it in his hands excitedly to examine it closer, poking at the string that bound together its lips and eyelids.

Wednesday unwrapped what looked at first to be a chemistry set, but upon close inspection found to be filled with various poisonous herbs and suspicious fluids. Though she didn’t show it as expressively as Pugsley, she was clearly very pleased with it.

(Y/N) tore at black and white paper and revealed a box, from which she pulled a half-decomposed, rotting hand on a flat wooden stand – the one from Borgin and Burke’s. “I’d almost forgotten about this.” She smiled at her father, who looked very proud of himself at her reaction. “Thank you.”

“Of course, Cucarachita.” He replied as he pulled a cigar and lighter from his pocket. “I’m sure you will find good use for it."

Much too quickly for their liking, the children finished unwrapping their gifts and sat on the floor admiring their many new possessions. Pugsley was playing with the shrunken head and a large taxidermy rat, (Y/N) was stabbing at the space between her fingers on the floor with her new gold-tipped throwing knife, and Wednesday was reading through the copy of Arachnomancy that (Y/N) had ‘borrowed’ from the library for her.

The family feasted in the pub downstairs, enjoying the busy environment of strangers eating and drinking for the special occasion, getting rowdy and arguing or playing unrecommendable games – it was much different from their usual traditions, but it was good. In fact, it wasn’t all that different from one of their larger family gatherings, with the shouting, the music, and the occasional object being thrown across the room.

And as they settled back into the sitting room for the evening, talking tiredly as Lurch finished up the last details of their family portrait, (Y/N) sat on the floor and leaned back into her mother’s legs, letting her long nails comb through her hair as she stared off into the dying fire.

For one more night, she had nothing to worry about.

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[stevesbipanic]

@steddiemas Day 15: Spreading holiday cheer.

"Whatcha doing?"

Steve startled at the voice behind him, quickly covering what he'd been writing. That's right, Eddie was coming over this afternoon, and had a key.

"Oh, um, just writing my Christmas letters for everyone."

"Aw that's cute, you writing mine?"

"Yes, so now peeking."

"Alright, Stevie, keep your secrets."

Eddie had practically forgotten about the cards until Christmas Eve when a bright red envelope was pushed through the slot in his door, his name written in cursive on the front. The sound of tyres on gravel clued him in to who the messenger was. He quickly opened the envelope, excited to see what Steve had been so secretive about a couple weeks before.

Dear Eds,

I'm scared even writing this right now even though I'll have weeks to second guess telling you this. I hope you'll still be coming to the Christmas party even if your answer is no. Firstly, Merry Christmas, I hope you and Wayne have a great day, I know Bucks and I will be. She assures me that you get a Christmas wish just like you get a birthday wish. I know the rule is that you don't tell anyone what you wish is or it won't come true, but I hope the universe makes an exception this time. You're my Christmas wish, Eds, am I yours?

Your Stevie

Eddie had barely finished reading Steve's name before he was out the door, jumping into his truck and racing out of the trailer park. He beat Steve home, he was clearly still out delivering letters. The moment the beemer pulled into the driveway he wasted no time running to it. Steve was half out of his seat before he had an armful of Eddie Munson.

"Of course you're my Christmas wish, Stevie."

The smile Steve gave him in return was better than any gift under the tree.

Ao3

[sefinaa]

❝𝐏𝐀𝐂: 𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐲, 𝐈 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐢𝐟 𝐈 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐭—𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐈 𝐚𝐥𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐛𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮.❞

A love letter from your current lover

18+ readings

YouTube | Masterlist

Tips | Paid Readings

Not a tarot card reading, only based on my intuition.

Pics | Divider

————❤️————

Pile 1:

The moon

When the moon shines beneath us as we stargaze and think of us,

My heart starts to become frenzy as one must say,

My eye shifts to your gaze only missing it by a breeze—surely you must be aware of how awe I am of you.

Or perhaps we are still playing the I don’t know game,

Where we both act like we don’t love each other the same, though I doubt I’m the crazy one..

I look into your eyes, and I see the same love, passion, and lust for me as I do with you,

Surely you must admit you love me first—

You do know, how shy of a person, I can be, so please..

Be the first.

I do love you so, I am just a shy lover..

My dear.

Pile 2:

The sun

A breeze in the midst of the air, the beautiful and bright sun shining onto your glorious beauty, for I am sucker, for you my dearest.

The way the sun says hello on the beautiful day, or when we ride down on our motor gears, the small smile you hide within the stoic expression,

You must think of me as a fool, that I cannot see the beautiful smile, but you, my love is mistaken.

Do not hide it from me anymore, show it to me, it is not a sign of weakness, as it shows true bravery and vulnerability..

Oh.. how lovely that is.. to see the real you beneath me and in my arms, as I caress your hair and whisper sweet nothings into your ears.. as you drift off into a restful slumber..

Oh.. how I wish, I could be with you all of the time as the sun is during the day.. and when the moon comes upon us, we are off to sleep.. missing one another in our soft slumber..

But do not fret, I shall be with you in every step of the way, as for I am, a hopeless romantic and have helplessly fallen in love with you.

Pile 3:

Running in the woods

When one runs in the woods, it is often a sign of danger and despair, but with you, it is not.

I imagine us running in a beautiful field, tailoring us into the misty woods upon us as I hold your hand and caress it, soothing the fear out of you and cooing you to show that it is safe..

As you believe me and we run inside, only to be fascinated by the beauty of it..

A magical picnic I made out of love for the both of us..

A lovely river, with swans moving into a heart shape to symbolize our love,

The wind breezing on us gently to show my gratitude to you as I cannot get mad at someone as lovely as you,

The food being freshly cooked and lay out in an organized fashion to explain that ill do anything for you,

And lastly, the smile on my lips as my cheeks are tinted with the roses I give you..

My love for you is stronger than gravity itself.. it is stronger than the earth itself..

It is something one cannot describe, as I couldn’t describe it even if this picnic happened itself.

Pile 4:

The stars

When we look upon the stars, we often make wishes hoping it comes true,

When I was going through hardship, and I was begging for someone or something to make me feel whole once more,

I begged the stars and begged for all the nights I cried, and I surely lost hope, until we met, and I cried.. though you did not see those tears.. I did cry.

I knew from the moment we crossed paths that my wish came true as you’re the wish I wanted, the wish I cried for and hopelessly begged for..

That someone, something, even the stars made it come true.

The amount of gratitude in my eyes for you, you surely would not believe it as I’m not best expressing my words, but

That doesn’t mean, all is lost, I want to show you, I love you with all my deepest heart, but every time I do, I fail miserably..

My heart has grown because of you, you have shown me, what it truly is like, to love,

As I use to be quite emotionless, and never really found anything to feel emotion for, but you are the different story people wish for you,

You are my savior and I hope you know, you dig out of a hole, I once wanted to be buried into.

You saved me from my death, the one that felt so warm yet was so cold,

You breezed me away from hopelessness and despair, surely you must understand what a blessing you have been,

As I cannot go any longer with you, I wanted to know if one day you will be mine?

Though I know we are dating, surely that is a fact, but I was thinking, a ring instead?

Would you do me the honor of saying yes when I do, for I shall be the luckiest of them all.

Pile 5:

Empty stars

Stars are so hollow and lonely; they shine brightly for us.. for you and me..

But as the night falls and the sun comes above and forms its protective gear,

The both of us become hollow,

No more sparks are between us as we once were when we met, but, I think to myself,

Perhaps you’re better off with a shooting star and nowt a hollow star like me,

Perhaps you want a blazing star and not a distant star like me,

Maybe as time went on, my stars for you decreased as your affections disappeared..

Times are lonely as we are no longer the stars we once were..

The emptiness inside is truly a decaying feeling of despair,

I hope one day we can mingle as we once were on our anniversary,

But I have lost hope on who we were once more..

No more stars, and surely enough—no more love as it once.. were.

This is my goodbye to you as you have lost the touch of my heart once more, as this is my goodbye, my dear one, there is no more.. love between…, us.. no more.

[idyllcy]

from one admirer to another : baked?

pairing: leon kennedy x reader || masterpost: from one admirer to another

synopsis: from one admirer to another, an online penpal service, allows for two people with common interests to write to each other without ever revealing their actual address! Luckily for both you and Leon, you get matched up! What do eggs and Christmas even have in common anyway? sure hope it's that modeling business and NOT that Ada Wong addiction.

featuring: reader as model number two // leon as christmas

Dearest model number two,

That mid-autumn festival dinner with you was delightful. I found it especially funny when you absolutely lost every ounce of cool when Ada had casually pointed at me with her chopsticks and deadpanned that I was Christmas himself. I wish I got a photo of the absolute embarrassment that was written on your face and how you probably would have jumped out the window had you not sunk to the floor out of embarrassment.

I think you know by now that I have an awful crush on you. From the second you first met me, the second I first locked eyes with you, from the moment your hand was placed on my bicep, I have been weak to you. I know you said you prefer to date face to face, which I have nothing against, but I just think it's wonderful to have love letters to look back to. My parents had them as well, so I hope we can continue this. I understand if you don't want to, though. It's a little creepy to think that your penpal all this time had been your long-time admirer, huh?

The mooncakes were heavenly. Ashley told me back in Spain that she always looked forward to the mid-autumn festival because someone would go around the office and give people mooncakes, so to be able to taste them myself is wonderful to me. I hope you never stop making them despite your rant about how you've grown sick of eating them yourself. Since you're sick of it, I'll eat all of the filling and leave the yolks for you until you're ready to share the sugar with me again. (Oh, god. I'm embarrassed at those words please erase them from your brain)

You asked me why I quit the academy at dinner but I couldn't answer. I gave it a little more thought, and honestly, I do not know. For the vast majority of my life, I had been enamored with the idea that one day, I would become someone just as admirable as the man who saved me. After the academy, my dreams had dimmed a little, and after a very short time in the Raccoon City department, the corruption ultimately drove me away when I was scouted after saving a guy from a robbery. Most of my muscle has just been from the time that I was in the academy. I just keep to the same routine, so I'm sorry for lying and telling you to ask my trainer. I panicked. Please forgive me.

I'm getting ready for the beach shoot you had complained about before dinner that night. Honestly, I found it strange as well, but I honestly think the company is clinging on for dear life, so the chances of this happening again are most likely rather slim. I keep pieces of you in my day-to-day, a different egg dish each morning because you love them so much. (I wonder if you'll let me make breakfast for you one day? With eggs, of course. You can even have mine)

The letter's much longer than the ones before, but I just felt that it would only be fair to let my heart speak this time. Of course, if you do not like it, I can stick with updates in life only next time. Just, I thought it would be cute. God, the romcoms I binged after I left dinner with you are seeping into my writing, huh? Biggest apologies.

Seeing you soon, Leon

p.s. thank you for taking care of Sunshine while I was away. I think he recognized you from the faint smell of your perfume on your letters. He misses you (I do too)

Leon wonders if he should just hand the letter to you, but there's a part of him that argues that it would be unromantic of him to do so. You're a romantic at heart, he finds. From complaining about never receiving flowers to handing nearly everyone in the office a couple of mooncakes for a holiday that isn't even widely celebrated here, you're romantic to the heart.

You look at flower meanings rather than color, write as a hobby and own a cat you call Sesame Bun, and just everything around you is covered in a slight pink hue. Rose-tinted life. You choose to ignore all of your problems in favor of the good, affection seeping through even your letters, unabashedly reserved for everyone. You support to the best of your ability, so Leon wonders if it's finally time to support you back. Well, who knows if you need support. You seem fine by yourself, but he'd like to join you nonetheless. It doesn't hurt to have one more companion in your life.

"Scrambled eggs." He hums.

"Noël." You hum. "Sorry about dinner. Ada gets a little honest... while drunk."

"It was funny. You were the star of the show."

You grimace, glancing at the waves and the reflection of the sun.

Leon laughs, glancing over at the workers. "You didn't know?"

"I was drunk out of my mind when I kissed you on New Year's. I'm not smart, contrary to what I might give off." You stretch your arms above your head. "I won't avoid you asking for my number, if that's what you're wondering."

"I'm glad." He smiles. "I mailed out the letter earlier today. You should be getting it soon."

"I look forward to it." You nod. "Is it a love letter?"

"No promises."

You stick your tongue out in disgust.

"Doing anything on Halloween?"

"Luis' masquerade." You smile. "I hope you can find me."

"I always will." He mumbles. "Always."

"Oh, what a sap." You mumble, expression flustered nonetheless.

You trust that he will.

prev post : masterlist : next letter

[bg-brainrot]

Day four of Astarion x Rogue!Tav winter fluff for the BG3 Winter Holiday Challenge!

Prompt: Mulled Wine

Featuring: Astarion x Rogue!Tav

Series: Fits into Love at First Knife, AO3 link here

Premise: Astarion walks into you making mulled wine. He doesn’t understand why you must ruin wine for the sake of winter. When he refuses to see your point, you find another way to show him.

Tags: POV Second Person, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Fluff, Holidays, Alcohol, Kisses, post-cannon

Word count: ~1k

“Darling, what are you doing to that red wine?” Astarion walks into the kitchen, turning his nose up at the concoction you’re stirring.

“I’m making mulled wine,” you say, turning to smile at him. “What do you think I’m doing?”

He gives a single sniff and turns his lips down into a grimace. “My nose tells me that you’re ruining a perfectly good bottle of wine.” You drop the smile and give him a glare.

“What do you mean ruining?” you ask, incredulous. “I’m following the instructions that Gale gave me to the letter. Though I guess I am skipping over some of his longer-winded tangents…” A quick glance over at the notes on the counter confirms your accuracy.

The vampire shakes his head at you and walks up to the stove where you’re still stirring. “I have no doubt that you’re executing it perfectly, dear. You’ve made poisons that require more finesse than this. However, adding all of those spices– and oranges? What was wrong with the original wine?”

“Nothing was wrong. I just wanted to make something seasonal,” you say, feeling the need to defend your creation. You look down at your mixture, at the various pieces of seasonal flavors swirling as you stir, and you’re almost positive that it will taste perfect on a cold winter’s day like today.

“Why not a nice buttered rum? I don’t mind if you torment the rum.”

You roll your eyes at this, knowing full well now that this line of questioning was meant to be entertainment for Astarion. He was likely just bored and wondering why you were spending so much time in the kitchen. “I don’t want buttered rum. Why are you so against mulled wine– when was the last time you even had mulled wine?”

A moment of silence passes between you, and you turn away from your pot to look at him, suddenly fearful that you accidentally struck a nerve you hadn’t meant to. However, he just looks pensive, a single finger tapping his chin thoughtfully. When his answer finally comes, he just says it with a sense of awe, “You know, it’s likely been over 200 years.”

“Oh,” you respond, pursing your lips. You gesture at him with the spoon you’re holding. “Maybe it would be like a brand new experience?”

“It could be,” he responds, and while there’s some hesitation to his tone, he does sound more amenable to the idea now. He wafts the steam from the pot toward his nose, as if a better sniff might change his mind. Instead your lover physically recoils and places a hand over his face. “Gods, what are these spices?”

“Let’s see... cardamom, cinnamon, and star anise,” you recite, looking back at the paper Gale wrote you.

Your lover makes a face at you before he chokes out, “Star anise? That’s where the pungent smell is coming from. Darling, as the resident connoisseur of scents, you should have asked me for your spices.”

“Ah,” you breathe out, understanding dawning on you. You point the spoon at him excitedly, “I got it!”

“Got what?” he says, staring at you blankly. You can feel his assurance in your ability to make mulled wine deteriorating by the second. No matter– you know how to fix this.

Scooping up a bit of your brew in the stirring spoon, you blow gently on it to cool it down and hold it out to him. “Try it.”

“Oh no,” he immediately says, taking a step back. “I refuse to be your test subject.”

“Fine then, let me try it first.” You sip the mulled wine out of the spoon, savoring it on your tongue. It’s sweet, it’s spiced, and it tastes just like cozying up to a fireplace– your face breaks into a wide grin at its rich flavor. As you suspected, the star anise only gives it a subtle note, none of that strong licorice smell it typically has. Astarion wouldn't remember that after hundreds of years away from drinks like this. “Mmm, it’s perfect.”

Astarion looks at you for a second, as if waiting for your composure to crack, your body to convulse with disgust. When nothing happens, he only asks, “What does it taste like?”

“Would you like to try it?” You’re beaming at him now, absolutely certain that this will change his mind about mulled wine.

He still seems cautious, probably wondering if this is all some ruse devised by you and Gale.

Sensing his worries, you scoop another spoonful for yourself, take a drink, and close the distance between you. “Mmm mm,” you say to him, behind closed lips.

“What?” the man asks, raising a single eyebrow at you.

“Mmm mm!” you repeat, pointing to your lips, which you’re emphatically puckering at him.

Your request clicks in his head a moment later and he can’t help the laugh that escapes him. “My love, have I told you that you’re utterly ridiculous lately? Because I feel like you’re overdue.” Nevertheless, he takes a step forward, placing his hands on your waist and pulling you close as he meets your pursed lips with his.

The kiss, much like the mulled wine, starts off sweet but quickly comes with a kick of spice. Astarion’s tongue traces your bottom lip and you open your mouth to allow him in. One of his hands finds your face and angles it to deepen the kiss, locking his mouth with yours to try to keep the wine from spilling.

You feel a few trickles of liquid fall down your chin, but you find that you don’t mind– in fact, the only thing on your mind is the way Astarion’s tongue is relishing the mulled wine. The vampire gives a low hum as his tongue circles yours, tasting the liquid fully. He has yet to run away in revulsion, so you’re pretty sure he likes it. Or at the very least likes kissing you.

When he finally pulls away, a bit short of breath, his lips stained with wine, he gives you a smirk. “I think I finally understand the appeal of mulled wine.”

“So does that mean you liked it?” you ask him, equally breathless.

Astarion swipes his thumb down your chin, wiping away the wine that dribbled down before bringing it to mouth. He gives you a dark, lidded look as he licks it off and gives a rumbling hmm. “I’m not sure yet. You’ll have to give me another taste.”

It’s slow going, but you enthusiastically ensure that your lover gets his fill of mulled wine.

[ramayantika]

The Guard Awake

Shankara was a newly recruited guard appointed by the defense ministry of Mathura, under its new ruler, the tyrant Kamsa, who had forcibly imprisoned his father and the former ruler of Mathura, Maharaja Ugrasena, and usurped the throne.

In addition to this folly, he had made his dear sister's life a living hell. The young and beautiful daughter of king Devapa, Princess Devaki had tied her nuptials to the handsome son of Shurasena, Prince Vasudeva, and was about to begin her marital life when a holy voice boomed from the blue skies announcing Kamsa's death by the hands of Devaki and from that day onwards, Mathura saw torture, pain and bloodshed, every day, every moment and every breath.

Shankara had been married to a wonderful girl from his village a month ago before moving to Mathura for work. Shyamala, his wife, a doe-eyed innocent beauty was in awe of the grand city, and had slowly begun blending with the people here.

It was late evening when Shyamala realised her husband hadn't arrived their humble cottage still. The sky had donned on the dark shades of purple and blue. The moon in pale silver was slowly illuminating the sky, and her eyes restlessly roamed outside the doorway searching for her husband.

"Shyamala, are you inside?" Shyamala hears Bharati at the doorway.

Bharati was the wife of Mahendra, their neighbour who worked with Shankara at the palace.

"Jiji... yes." Shyamala wipes her hands with a small towel and jogs towards the door.

Bharati looks up at Shyamala and says, "My husband had sent a message to you from Shankara bhrata. Bhrata has been assigned night shifts starting from today at Mathura's prison."

Nodding her head in understanding, Shyamala replies, "I see. That is why he hadn't come home by evening. He generally sends me a letter though if he shall be late home, but he didn't today."

Bharati sighs. "Well it might be because, your husband is tasked with holding the two new hostages in tight security. Devaki and Vasudeva have now been moved from house arrest to the dark prisons."

Shyamala's eyes widen in shock. "What!"

"Yes. The king is afraid and obsessed with the divine forewarning about his death, so he decided to shower all atrocities on his one's dear sister and her husband."

"Poor woman!" Shyamala laments. "A princess reduced to a prisoner. A newly married woman has so many dreams, but look how cruel her fate crushed it all."

Bharati rests her hand on Shyamala's shoulder. "Anyway, we mere citizens can't do much. Let's pray that the newly weds are delivered of their suffering. You take care of yourself." She looks around at the dark skies. "It is getting dark now, and well thievery and dacoit activities have been on a rise."

"Sure. Thank you." Shyamala smiles and closes the wooden door. Locking the door from inside, she double checks the lock before heading inside towards their single bed chamber.

Shyamala sits on a thin mattress. Her eyes drift towards the pale silver moon. Closing her eyes and folding her hands in devotion, she mutters an earnest plea. "Oh Vishnu! Take care of Devaki."

A gentle breeze blew by carrying the fragrance of sandalwood.

--xx--

Shankara stretches on the bed for a good moment until sleep and exhaustion evades from his limbs. His eyes automatically squint at the afternoon glaring sun causing him to rub his palm over his face.

"Shyamala...?" He calls out.

Shyamala enters their room. "Oh! You are awake."

Shankara tiredly smiles and nods at her. "I felt so tired that I couldn't wake up early. I feel as if I have slept an entire day."

Shyamala sits beside her husband, and presses her soft palms over her husband's shoulders. "I figured it out that you were exhausted. That is why I didn't wake you up." Looking at her husband's reddened cheeks from his deep sleep, she continues, "Why don't you freshen up? Lunch is prepared. You will have to leave for your duty soon."

A groaning Shankara replies, "Yes, those dreary dark dungeons await my presence."

Shyamala passes a small smile and gets up to go towards their kitchen when she hears Shankar speak. "By the way, Princess Devaki is pregnant with her first child."

"Oh," Shyamala mutters. "Such a shame that she must experience the journey of motherhood in a dark and dingy cell."

Shyamala heads to her small kitchen. Peeling of the lid from the cooking pot, her mind thinks about the Yadu princess and her pregnancy. A mother to be forced to be a prisoner.

She takes in the aroma of rice and dal. She wonders if the princess would be properly fed or not to support the existence of the foetus as well as to nourish the mother's body to sustain new life.

"I am done. Let's eat together. I can feels the rats hungrily running inside my stomach." She hears her husband.

"Coming." Shyamala thanks her stars. Sure, she did not lead a very luxurious life like the royalty. She was just a simple village girl, slowly blending in with the city. Far away from politics, throne usurpers, and brothers who attempt to jeopardize their sisters' lives.

She often thinks of the princess sometimes especially when praying to the tiny idol of Vishnu. Maharaja Kamsa had banned the worship of Vishnu. Shankara had asked Shyamala to hide all images of the deities in case some eager follower of the king would report them for committing treason against their king.

Shyamala had sculpted a tiny idol of Vishnu and placed it under her sarees.

She gazes at the ceiling and mutters another prayer for the poor couple. "Chakradhari, take care of the mother and the child."

--xx--

Shankara blinks his eyes and averts the sweet call of sleep when a shrill baby's cry wakes him awake in both body and mind.

The guard beside him runs off to alert the other guards to carry the message to Kamsa.

Shankara looks at the tired body of Devaki. The thin white sheets are drenched in blood and maybe a few dark coloured tissues, he marks, before sadly muttering to himself. "There isn't even an healer to check upon the princess."

He looks at Vasudeva who pats Devaki's hair. He gently kisses her head and looks at the baby boy cradled in her arms. The baby is still crying out loudly, as if, he is fearful for his life ahead.

Devaki coos at the crying child. Gently laying its head on her bare chest covered with her now patched saree, she tries calming the baby.

Vasudeva's eyes meet Shankara's who quickly flits his gaze to the ground, and turns his back to him.

Kamsa's booming footsteps alert the guard. Shankara immediately holds his spear in his hand and straightens his spine. Kamsa stands near the iron bars with a servant unlocking the small prison door of their cell.

Devaki sits up and holds the child tighter in her arms as Kamsa bends down towards the crying child. A menacing maniacal look harbours in the king's eyes, as he comments, "You gave birth to a beautiful baby indeed, my sister. Alas! He isn't blessed to live a long life like his parents."

Snatching the crying child by his leg, he laughs. Devaki shrieks and pleads, "This is the first child, Bhrata!. The warning had mentioned the eighth child not the first one. Leave him, please!" Her hands are outstretched to her brother who smirks evilly.

"The gods always have some trickery up their sleeves. I don't trust them. Every child of yours shall be killed by me, sister. Let me see, who shall then defeat Kamsa then."

Devaki stands up holding her bloodied saree. Shankara's body had gone cold hearing Kamsa's plan on killing every child of Devaki's.

Doesn't he have a heart at all? Who kills an innocent baby that too of one sister's? Shankara wonders but keeps his thoughts quietly to himself.

Kamsa dangles the child like a toy in his burly arms. Devaki cries and screams for her brother to let go. Vasudeva holds his wife to his chest, fearing if Kamsa decides to kill Devaki for asking her son back so he may prove the divine voice wrong of their prediction.

Devaki hits at Vasudeva's chest."Do something. He is your child too. He will kill my son. Why are you standing like a statue?"

A tearful Vasudeva embraces Devaki tighter in his arms.

Kamsa brings the baby in front of his eyes. Shankara turns his head back slightly to check on Devaki and Vasudeva only to meet a gruesome murder of a baby.

Kamsa had banged the baby's head against the wall.

Thud thud.

Devaki screams until her voice turns hoarse. Shankara catches Vasudeva's gaze causing the former to gulp.

Devaki had expressed her rage and grief but he noticed that Vasudeva nursed only a silent rage as he caressed Devaki's back with gentle hands.

Kamsa haughtily carries the dead baby's corpse in his hands and laughs with glee as he walks through the exit doors.

And soon the Yadu princess looses her consciousness. She lies on the dirty sheet drenched in her blood as well as her lost child's. Vasudeva sits down on the ground, his dejected eyes pinned to the flowing blood of his child's from the wall to the prison's floor.

The prison dungeons were lit by fire torches at night. Shankara looks at the burning flames and prays to Vishnu.

"Come soon, my Lord. Come soon."

--xx--

"I saw the king kill the child, Shyamala."

"But the voice had mentioned the eight son, hadn't it?"

"Looks like he doesn't want to take any chances."

"How is the princess?"

"Can you lend me a few of your sarees? We have an extra blanket too. That shall suffice I think."

"Sarees and blanket for what, swami?"

"For Devaki and Vasudeva. I can't free them, but I can help ease their dreadful days a bit. Not even a healer was made to visit, Shyama. I saw her lay on bloodied clothes.

"I will pack a few nutritious meals too then."

--xx--

A loud wail makes Shankara turn towards Vasudeva's cell.

He sees thick blood drip down her legs as she presses her palm to her lower stomach. Vasudeva helplessly stares at Shankara and shakes his head at him.

Devaki had miscarried.

The seventh born had died in her womb itself.

Vasudeva makes her sit against the wall. He holds her hands in his and whispers something in her ears. Shankara can't hear him but his eyes moisten too at their plight.

He had seen how the evil monster of a human Kamsa had killed six of her children. Sometimes he would bang the child's head or if he felt too malicious, he would slice the little one in two with his sword.

And this man called himself the strongest warrior. A warrior whose sword is drenched in the blood of innocent children.

Vasudeva with great difficulty had made Devaki go to sleep. Shankara observes the exhaustion on Vasudeva's face.

"Aren't you tired, my prince?"

"Of what?"

"This. Why bring in children when you know what fate they will meet at the end. Kamsa spared none. Why must you both go through such grueling moments. It is only bringing you pain." Shankara points at Devaki. "How more pain must a mother go through? Losing seven children. Seven!"

Vasudeva answers, "This pain is written in our destiny. The only reason we want to bring children is because we both still believe that He shall come. He will take revenge for harassing the mother, my Devaki and for the lost innocent babies. I know that one day I shall see that Kamsa die. He made a spectacle of my children's death. I shall see Kamsa's death be a spectacle too. The Gods need a mother to enter the mortal world. Devaki and I must do our path." Vasudeva's eyes light up with a surge of energy. "The path to reach God has never been easy for a devotee. Then how can the path be easier for the ones who shall bring the God to our world, Shankara."

Shankara goes quiet. The light in Vasudeva's eyes raises goosebumps on his skin. He quietly fidgets with his bag. Looking around to avoid any snooping guards, he passes a bundle filled with fruits and nuts to Vasudeva.

"My wife sent it."

"Thank you, my friend."

"Only doing my duty, my prince."

A small smile curves into Vasudeva's lips. He places the bundle in the corner before heading to rest near Devaki.

Devaki's tears have left dry paths over her cheeks. Vasudeva wipes them off and whispers, "Our Lord shall arrive soon, my dear."

--xx--

Lately Shankara had been noticing a different glow on Shyamala's face. She was humming some melodies under her breath, would secretly smile to herself while fondly gazing at his face in the early hours of dawn, and was now eating a lot of sweets these days.

The rooster crows at the onset of dawn as Shankara makes his way towards the narrow lane of his house. The sun is barely up in the sky. It looks pale as if the Sun God himself is slowly rising from slumber.

Some parts of the sky are shrouded in darkness with the faintest hues of blue diverging from the dark blanket enveloping the skies. The moon still illuminates his path ahead and Shankara rubs his arms for warmth as a gentle cold wind brushes by.

It is the month of Margashirsha, the first month of the winter season. He observes how the days have grown slightly cooler. The temperature at night feels just the same everyday thanks to the desolate prison at the hill top. The lonely hill and the surrounding forest cover always feel cold. The hundreds of fire torches don't bring warmth to the prison ever.

This is why he carries a shawl with himself, and now with the beginning of the winter season, he had decided to smuggle a shawl for Devaki and Vasudeva too.

He makes a mental note of that thought and walks ahead, his eyes waiting to land upon the walls of his home and the familiar presence of his wife waiting for him.

The high pitched crowing of the rooster reaches his ears again, but this time Shankara has reached the dusty path of his house. To his surprise, he notices his wife standing at the doorway, her eyes immediately finding his and brightening.

With hurried steps, Shankara stands in front of her, asking, "Why are you standing here? It is cold. You should be inside." He holds her hands and checks for the temperature. "See, your hands are cold now. You fall sick easily, priye."

Shyamala laughs. Shankara looks at her laughing face. The sound of her laughter is music to his ears. It takes away all his dark and dreary moments from his rounds at the prison cell.

He observes how glowy her face looks this early in the morning and wonders how he must look with sunken and reddened eyes from lack of nightly sleep.

Shyamala stops her hearty giggles and pulls him inside the house, shutting the door with an excited slam. "I have some news for you, husband."

"News? What kind of news?" Shankara asks. Marking the constant smile on Shyamala's lips, he says, "It definitely must be a happy one which is why you are smiling and giggling so much."

Shyamala nods her head rapidly in agreement. "Indeed it is. You will be happy too. Joyous even."

Squinting his eyes in confusion, he looks at his wife, wondering what wonderful news could she bring to him that made her wait for him so eagerly.

"Okay. Go ahead."

Shyamala shyly smiles and looks to the floor. Shankara tilts his head thinking what is making his wife blush like that at dawn.

'Surely, I am not looking handsome enough after work this way which might make her want to-' All his thoughts come to a halt, when he feels Shyamala take his hand and press it to her stomach.

She looks at him with a bashful gaze and bats her eyelashes at him, her eyes look at his, searching for the look of realization in those tired eyes.

Shankara looks at the hopeful and love-filled gaze in his wife's eyes and then at his hand over her lower stomach, at her womb.

Realization strikes him like a thunderbolt.

"You..." He holds her by her shoulders. "Pregnant?"

Shyamala beams at him. Shankara immediately brings her into a bone-crushing hug.

"We are going to be parents!" Shankara exclaims before peppering Shyamala's face with kisses.

Happy tears spring up in her eyes as she nods at him. "Yes, and I have conceived in the holy month of Margashirsha. Vishnu's month."

With all the love and warmth, Shankara could muster in his eyes, he gazes deeply into Shyamala's eyes. Holding her face as gently as he can, he says, "Let's hope our child is born healthy and in the time when God walks on earth again, annihilating sin and vice."

Shyamala leads him to their bed. "Come, rest, swami. You must be tired."

Shankara closes his eyes as soon as his head hits the soft pillow. Shyamala darkens the room by drawing the curtains over the windows. He can feel his wife gazing at him, but he pretends that he has dozed off.

The sound of anklets lull him to sleep as Shyamala hums a morning melody to herself. Her feet exit the room, and he slips into a comfortable dreamless sleep with no thoughts of bloodied babies and wretched motherhood.

--xx--

In the quiet hours of the night, Vasudeva beckons Shankara closer to the iron bars. Some other nearby guards were dozing with loud snores, and the soldiers meant for hourly rounds still had an hour left to come back for checking.

Vasudeva whispers to Shankara. "The eighth child. Devaki is pregnant."

Shankara's eyes drift to the sleeping form of the Yadu princess. Unlike her previous pregnancies, Devaki looked the most healthiest and happiest in this pregnancy.

Her face suffused with a divine glow. She looked as beautiful as the motherly form of Shakti. Her frail body, a consequence of the poor diet and nutrition standards of the prison had plumped up. She was happier now, Shankara observed.

The primary motto of her previous pregnancies had been to quickly bring the children to the world, watch Kamsa kill them and patiently wait until the one who would avenge her would finally take form in her womb.

Of course, she would be heartbroken each time Kamsa mercilessly slaughtered tiny babies in front of her, but with time, the gods had blessed her with enough mental strength to push through and bring Kamsa's killer to earth.

Shankara quickly scans the guards behind him. Some were idly chatting while the majority had dozed off.

"Perhaps, God will descend soon now. It's only a matter of time." Shankara bows his head, his mind thinking of Shri Vishnu, the Preserver of the Universe.

Shankara opens a pouch and fetches a small ladoo. Offering it to Vasudeva, he says, "My wife is with child too, prince. I would like to offer this sweet to you." Motioning to Devaki, he hands over the entire sweet containing pouch into the hands of Vasudeva. "Please feed the princess too and share the happy news with her too."

Vasudeva's eyes soften. Not one soul in the prison except Shankara had shown kindness and compassion to him and Devaki. Some would pass a few sympathetic glances at them, but that was it. A friendship had blossomed between the guard and the former Yadu prince.

Vasudeva wanted to embrace the guard, but the large iron bars proved and obstacle. He shakes his hand with Shankara, saying, "You have shared a happy news with me, Shankara, as a friend. I would like you to feed the ladoo to me as a friend."

Shankara stutters. "Me as a friend?" He smiles but his shoulders shrug uneasily. "Kamsa may have imprisoned you, but to me, you will always remain my prince. I am a mere guard, a commoner."

"Oh, Shankara, what joy has being a prince brought me? You are the only soul who has shown kindness and compassion to the both of us." He passes a glance at Devaki and then turns to Shankara. "We will forever be indebted to you and your wife."

Vasudeva eats the ladoo from Shankara's hand. "May your child be healthy. Take care of Shyamala and send our regards to her."

Shankara bows down to Vasudeva and turns ahead. Grabbing the spear in his hand, he assumes his role as a guard once again.

--xx--

It was the eighth day of Krishna Paksha in the month of Shravna. The morning had been bright, but as the day progressed, the skies had grown overcast.

Low breezes blew throughout the evening, telling everyone the news of the incoming storm that was making its way ahead.

Shankara hears the wind howling around the prison. The sound is eerie, and he is reminded of scary ghost tales which the old grandfathers of his village often narrated to the kids at night.

The large fire torches feel the brunt of the wind too. The golden flames dance to the wind as dust blows in. Shankara hurries back to the prison to check on Devaki.

To his surprise, he sees every guard fall to the ground, their eyes closed in deep sleep. Not one being is standing awake except Devaki, Vasudeva and him.

Devaki however clutches her stomach and crouches on the floor. Grabbing Vasudeva's arm, she yells, "My eighth baby. He is coming."

Vasudeva begins assisting Devaki in giving birth while Shankara decides to check for any soldiers nearby for their hourly rounds.

Not one soldier in sight.

"Strange," Shankara thinks to himself. "It is as if everybody passed out."

He walks back to Vasudeva's cell and rubs his eyes in shock.

A beautiful baby boy lay beside Devaki.

"No way, did a baby come out so fast." He looks at Vasudeva. "I was away only for mere moments some time ago. How come-?"

In the loud rumbling sounds of the thunderstorm, a sweet breeze carrying the smell of sandalwood fills the prison cell. Shankara hears the divine sound of the conch in his ears, and he wonders if it is the loud thunder or has he lost his mind.

The prison cell glows in golden light. On the brown wall of the prison against the golden light cast inside the prison, a tall shadow forms.

The four armed lord, each arm holding a conch, a discus, a mace and a beautiful lotus, stands in front of the trio.

Shankara's eyes grow moist in devotion until the divine spell breaks. Vishnu vanishes and he hears a charming boy giggle.

A beautiful baby boy with the complexion akin to stormy clouds beams at him. A smile equal to the radiance of a thousand suns light his face.

The baby coos and Vasudeva's chains fall to the ground.

Vasudeva holds the baby in his arms. The prison lock falls to the ground with a loud clang, yet not one eye drifts open.

"I must make way for Gokula and hand him to my friend, Nanda. This boy shall be safe there."

Devaki kisses the baby's forehead for one last time and bids farewell to her child.

Shankara bows down and presses the baby's tiny feet to his forehead. "Om namo Narayana."

--xx--

Shankara doesn't drag himself to his house. He rather sprints the entire way back, to eagerly tell the news of Devaki's eight born to Shyamala.

He notices Bharati stand at the doorway. Ushering him inside, she leads him inside his room. He spots a sleeping Shyamala, her face bearing a peaceful expression. Sweat beads shine on her forehead.

Beside her lies a little girl wrapped in a cloth secured tightly around her.

"Ghar mein Lakshmi ka aagman hua hai, Shankara bhrata."

--xx--

@krishna-priyatama @krsnaradhika @krishakamal @ma-douce-souffrance @jukti-torko-golpo @prettykittytanjiro @thegleamingmoon @krishna-sangini @chaliyaaa @kaal-naagin @ramcharantitties

I guess this was a long post. I had this idea on janmashtami. I actually have my internal exams going on. Still squeezed this through hehe so here you go. I hope you all like it.

I never wrote on krishna's birth and i began thinking of some good guard helping out devaki and vasudeva. Then somehow added shyamala as his wife and provide glimpses into their life. Hope you all enjoyed it.

Would love to listen to your views. I am sleep deprived and academically well.. slayy is struggling but i will definitely end up doing something nice there too. See you soon

[theshotsheardacrossworlds]

Dear Master Rolan

Based on a prompt by @faerunsbest, an AU in which Amelie is not "Tav" and instead went on the proposed trip to Calimshan to find a husband. She begins a correspondence with Rolan after the events of the game. SFW.

Dear Master Rolan,

I hope this letter finds you well. My name is Lady Amelie Wildheart, and I am writing to you to inquire if there are any tomes on wild magic you would recommend. As I’m sure you can guess, I’m a wild magic sorcerer. Most of my life, the bursts of wild magic that come from me are normally “adorable” according to my mother, Countess Luci Wildheart. However, they have on the rare occasion caused varying degrees of harm, much to my immense sadness and heartbreak. Perhaps there is some research or theory if wild magic bursts can be controlled in some way or prevent more deadly reactions.

Thank you so much for your time.

Sincerely,

Lady Amelie Wildheart

Rolan held the letter to his chest and sighed. If he was having an awful day (like today), then he would reread letters from Amelie.

No, you fool. Lady Amelie. She is a lady.

And my friend.

And I’ve fallen for her even though we’ve never met.

Letting out a frustrated growl, he folded the letter and put it back in its envelope. He then opened a locked drawer in his desk and placed the letter inside. Despite his mood, he could not resist smiling. In the past several months, his correspondence with her had only grown and deepened since her first letter. Rolan spent no small amount of time scouring Ramazith’s Tower for any and all tomes on wild magic, eagerly writing her a reply. What began as polite soon evolved into friendship which then changed into—

No.

She said herself she’s on a tour to Calimshan to hopefully find love. Her mother’s idea apparently after several failed attempts at arranging a marriage for her. How…how…can she still be unattached? She is wonderful and kind, thoughtful and funny, sweet with hints of spice.

No.

She calls me “dear friend.”

But…

He hastily searched for the envelope containing her latest letter.

Dear Rolan,

I hope this letter finds you well. I didn’t manage to find a copy of “Wild Magic: A Reconsideration.” However, I will be able to personally borrow it from you in a few weeks, because I’m finally coming home!

I’m so excited to be back in the Gate and see how the reconstruction is going (and maybe lend a mage hand or two to help). I can’t wait to see Mum and my friends.

I can’t wait to finally see you in person and meet Cal and Lia! Would you mind if I came by Ramazith’s Tower after I’ve settled in and have tea? If not, you are very much welcome at my home or Wildheart Manor.

Of course, please do not feel that we are obliged to do so. I know you are a very busy man with running the tower and shop as well as your other duties as Master of Ramazith’s Tower.

But if you would indulge a dear friend, then I would be most happy.

Yours,

Amelie

“Yours. How I wish I was yours.” He traced her signature with a clawed finger, frowning. “I would—”

“Rolan! Rolaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaan!” Lia’s voice called from the other side of his study door. “There’s someone here asking for you!”

I don’t have any appointments or meetings…do I?

“Who?”

“She said she’s here for Wild Magic: A Reconsideration.”

Rolan, Master of Ramazith’s Tower, nearly knocked over a sniggering Lia as he rushed out of his study and down the stairs to the main level of the shop.

Is it…

Could it be?

Her?

Then he remembered that he only knew Amelie was a half-elf and nothing else about her appearance.

“Excuse me, are you Rolan? The Master of Ramazith’s Tower?”

He turned to see a woman (a half-elf!!!!) with the most beautiful golden eyes staring back at him.

“Yes.”

Why is my heart pounding? Why does my tongue feel so clumsy and full in my mouth? Why do I feel sweaty? I JUST BATHED THIS MORNING.

The woman smiled. “Oh Rolan, it’s so lovely to see you. I’m Amelie…”

He fairly certain she was still speaking but could not make out the words.

Good gods.

She is stunning.

Gold eyes that shine with warmth. Copper colored hair. Freckles! Such lovely freckles. A sweet smile. Perfect, very kissable lips…NO.

She’s got a nice bosom…NO.

No.

Calm yourself, damn you!

“Rolan?”

He blinked. “Yes! Forgive me, I…it’s been…”

Amelie frowned and wrung her hands. “Oh. If it’s a bad time, then I can return another day. You see, I arrived home yesterday and wanted to see you, but—”

Acting on I’m not entirely sure what, he took her hands in his. “You are welcome here any day, any time, my lady. I would be most pleased if you stayed. Please.” Her hands are so soft and covered in more freckles. Who knew I was exchanging letters with a goddess?

“Really?” she asked with more a little hope. “I don’t want to impose, and I once again must ask for your forgiveness for coming unannounced.”

Please don’t say come.

He cleared his throat but before he could speak, she did.

“You see, Rolan…there was a reason why I came to see you and not simply because of a book.” Her words spilled out of her like a babbling brook, something Rolan found profoundly adorable. “I—”

Giving her hands a squeeze, he spoke softly, “Let us speak in my study. In private, my lady.”

Away from customers but mainly Cal and Lia, who are staring and giggling.

Fuck.

A light blush painted the half-elf’s cheeks. “Oh. Yes. Of course. Please, lead the way.”

As Rolan offered his arm as they ascended to the second floor, Lia elbowed her brother.

“How much do you want to bet that they’re both so awkward they don’t confess?” she laughed.

Cal rolled his eyes. “You have got to be kidding. Rolan has an entire speech ready, which I know because he insisted, I listen to him while he ‘practiced.’”

Trying not to laugh more, Lia glanced to the second floor and watched as Rolan and Amelie entered his study. “Don’t mess this up, big brother…”

[saekkas]

𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐒 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄… (𝐟𝐭 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐬).

𝟎𝟎'𝟏: 𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈 𝐑𝐈𝐍 remembering the things they like, sharing a soft smile across the room, looking for them in a crowded room, and tucking in their hair behind their ear to see their eyes.

summary: a collection of ways on how the blue lock boys silently say "i love you."

note: first up is itoshi rin with a 1.6k word count!

itoshi is a household name in the soccer world, and so is the number 10. itoshi sae is known to be a genius midfielder with unbound talent set to rule to soccer world in the upcoming years. itoshi rin, however, is only a sprout barely blooming within winter soil.

even then, rin's name has been printed on every paper and tabloid, headlines of the budding striker written in big bold letters. blue lock has catapulted him into great heights, a nobody turned somebody whose time is worth a lot of money.

everyone's looking at him now and you've never been prouder. although, the flashing camera lights and crazy stalkers will never be your favorite things about the whole ordeal. another thing you will never get used to, is the amount of time your boyfriend is stolen from you. interviews, practice, media visits are now a part of rin's daily schedule and they're starting to become burdensome.

when he's not away on blue lock business, rin's preoccupied himself at home, which makes visits to the itoshi household a daily occurrence for you now. not that you can complain; rin's parents are very welcoming, always cooking you mind blowing food. you remember them showing photos from rin's childhood that had you squealing at his cute round cheeks.

"want more curry, dear?" rin's mother asks

the itoshi household is nothing if not breathtaking, a two-story modern house with traditional elements mixed in. the halls are fully furnished, little trinkets from tokyo and traditional koi paintings decorating the area. mixtures of marmer and wood are sprinkled throughout the rooms, adding to the homey ambience of the family's house.

your favorite feature has to be the garden though; a green field the size of two master bedrooms occupy the space connecting the living room and kitchen. filled with luscious green grass along with bonsai and hydrangeas, your eyes never stray far from the painting brought to life.

"ah no, it's alright," you smile and shake your head at her offer. "i think i've had enough curry to last until next week."

"oh, don't be silly!" she laughs, extending a hand to rest on yours as she sits across from your form. "there's no such thing as too much curry."

"you're right about that," you laugh with her, "but i think i've had my fill for now."

before another word leaves her lips, two pairs of feet pad into the room. you look up to see rin walking behind his father, a leather bound book in one hand. you watch as the two make light conversation, smiling when he plops onto the seat next to you.

"good game?" you ask to the black-haired boy beside you, a smile on your face.

"no," he scoffs, "awful."

"really, rin?" his father grins from the spot across from you, a hand coming down to clap against his own thigh. "you were practically screaming for sae to score that last goal. and i think i saw you cry when he did."

"shut up," rin grumbles.

you watch as red threatens to spread over his face, grinning at the way he tries to avoid your eyes.

"your dad's right, rin." you lean in closer to his right, nudging his side with a playful wink. "i heard you sniffle all the way from here."

you laugh along with his parents when he flushes red all over, especially evident on the tip of his nose. you bury the need to press a kiss onto it.

"rin's always been such a soccer fanatic," his dad says with a slice of grilled chicken edging closer to his mouth, "especially when sae's involved."

"mhmm," his mom mumbles as she picks the familiar leather bound book from its place next to rin. "they were so close with one another."

you try your best to keep a neutral face, eyeing rin's expression. you lift a hand to press onto his, fingers intertwining under the table. you feel a small smile slip onto your face when he squeezes the joint limbs.

"want to see?"

squinting at the writing smudges on the book, a gasp makes its way through your lips as you recognize the words.

"photobook," is written in capital letters across the brown leather and you practically melt on your seat when his mom flips it open to reveal a starry-eyed chubby cheek rin staring at his older brother. the photo is labeled as 'sae nii-chan' in awful writing that could only be younger rin's.

"i would love to!"

sneaking a glance at rin, you're met with a scowl directed at his mother. giggling, you press a brief peck on his cheek before teasing, "who knew you were such a cute kid? i always thought you were the ugly, snotty kind."

now that you think about it, that was probably the moment rin decided to never bring you into his house ever again.

rolling your eyes at the memory, you look around for said boy. doing a turn, your eyes sweep across the room before sighing at the growing crowd at the entrance. from the amount of screams, a crowd of photographers, soccer fans, and interviewers no doubt.

so much for spending quality time on a date outside.

you turn your back to the crowd, feet pattering against the marble ceramics of the museum's floor. it wasn't often that rin would suggest a date in a public setting (for obvious reasons) but you remember him surprising you with two tickets on the eve of your birthday.

"didn't expect to see you at midnight, rinnie."

said boy is standing outside your apartment door, a lavender box in hand with a hand knitted scarf covering half his face, "what's the occasion?"

you watch as he leans against the door frame, a small smile on his face. you squeak when he wraps an arm around your middle to gently pull you into his form.

"happy birthday," he mumbles into the crown of your head, "i got you a present."

"your presence here is a present enough."

you watch as he rolls his eyes, laughing at the deadpan expression he wears. you allow him to drag you into the living room, plopping down on the sofa as settles the box between you.

"open it."

"okay, okay, so bossy."

there's only the sound of your muffled playlist in the background, lights not as brightly lit as they should be. your hands are deft, opening the ribbon wrapped around the box while carefully tearing through the wrapping.

"what's- oh."

your eyes catch onto the sight of two finely printed paper, your and rin's name written in cursive bellow a museum's name. the museum you've wanted to go to for over a year.

"i remember you looking up the museum on your website and how you said the tickets were always sold out, so i thought-"

rin doesn't get the chance to finish his sentence before you're jumping into his arms. he's quick to steady both of you, pressing an arm on your lower back and another on the sofa below. he peaks down to see a blinding smile on your face, eyes covered by the tresses of your hair.

"thank you so much," you whisper into the night, trying to contain your excitement. "you're the best person ever!"

rin chuckles as you situate yourself on his lap. he leans in to place a palm on your cheek, and your freeze as he sweeps away the hair covering your eyes.

"anything for you."

teal eyes bore into yours as he leans in to press a peck on your forehead. your breath catches in your throat when he slides a ring on your finger, "say the word and it's yours."

pressing a finger to your phone, you watch the screen light up to show a picture of you and rin. you swipe through your contacts until you find rin's and quickly type in a message for him to see.

you: rinrinnn

you: i'll be looking around the art section!

you: text me when you're done <333

walking through the infinite halls, you stumble through the one filled with sculptures. your eyes rake through each and every one, fingers itching to touch the material it's made of. you don't notice the people in the room, multiple teenagers on a school trip filling up the cramped space, too preoccupied at marveling the art before you.

your phone pings and you're quick to open it, seeing rin's brief message of where are you? before turning to go back the way you came. your feet stop three steps in, a soft smile spreading on your face as teal eyes catches yours.

you notice the small smile he sends back, before he nods at you to stay in place. he's maneuvering himself through the sea of people and it's only when rin takes the spot beside you that you look up.

he's panting, a gray baseball hat covering most of his face. you watch as he looks around, trying to see whether the interviewers caught onto him.

he stops when you take his hand in yours.

"hi, handsome stranger." looking up, you see him arch an eyebrow at you, smiling as he leans down to hear you over the sound of chatter in the room.

he freezes when you adjust the hat on his head, sweeping the bangs so that his eyes aren't covered by the garment, "there, that's better."

rin shakes his head, a quiet chuckle sounding in the space between you. he squeezes your intertwined fingers before whispering in your ear, "i've been looking everywhere for you."

"well here i am," you smile, fiddling with the ring that rests on your finger. "c'mon, let's go through the rest before eating, i'm starved."

rin watches the glinting stone and nods, lips fluttering across the gem as he places a kiss on your ring finger.

"anything for you," he mumbles.

i will be releasing more fics containing the other boys so feel free to drop suggestions on who you think i should write next and how you think they silently express ily!

[1poda]

Island Visit

"Thank you for coming to Endroit Romantique, we'll see you next time!" you waved as a happy couple left your place of work arm in arm, none really taking the time to notice much other than each other, but that was the amazing effect of Endroit Romantique! The most romantic cafe in the New World, perhaps in the whole wide world! And there was nothing more satisfying than a job well done, the more they the made kissy noises and goo-goo eyes at each other, the better the reviews! Reviews that would draw celebrities from all levels of stardom!

Taking a moment to glance around the quiet room you thought it best to help out the waiting staff, leaving your place from behind a golden pedestal you grabbed at a cloth from your apron and threw it over your shoulder "Hm, left quite a mess today" you mentioned, picking up empty wine cups and sauce covered plates until a fellow worker came up with a question in her eyes "May, is everything all right?" you assembled the last of the plates into a neat stacks as the blue eyed girl held out a note to you "Some kid dropped this off at the front desk, he said to bring it to you right away"

"Since when did some kid know my name?" you thought, picking a folded note from May's long fingers. Though it didn't take long for you to recognize the handwriting "Oh um, May could you take this into the kitchen for me, please? I'm gonna head outside for a quick break" You smiled politely before leaving, not giving the poor girl a chance to deny your request but there wasn't much of a chance of that happening anyway.

Leaving the tinted glass door of your livelihood behind you glanced down each side of the street, perhaps the boy who delivered the note was still around, or... maybe he was in a nearby alley?

With that idea in mind, you sprinted across the busy road and headed into the mouth of the nearest narrow space in the middle of tall buildings, but even with such little time passing between the note being given to May and then delivered to you... no, Rosinante wouldn't tell you he's here just to up and vanish again.

Not unless he was in serious danger, but if there was an even slight chance of his dear elder brother or anymore in existamce finding out about you and the bond you two share... he wouldn't even be able to bring himself onto the island, but as you held the note in the sprinkles of rain that slipped between various clothing lines and balconies you couldn't help but wonder where on this lump of an island could your Rosinante be hiding?

'I'm Here'

The note reads simply and you couldn't help but chuckle at the mysteriousness of it all, raising your head to watch as the sky's droplets grew heavier and began to soften his short letter but as the pitter-patter of rain grew in noise footsteps echoed in their collision and you glanced behind you, further into the alley only to see a short boy with rather dead looking eyes but still his brows quirked with a curious narration from within "Are.. you... the Person Cora wants to see?"

"You.. know Corazon?"

The child thought about his next words but still, all the thought process and intelligents in the world couldn't save him from childish anticts "Yeeeeah I do, he's my Dad" he gave a mean grin as your jaw hung as if it were carrying the weight of a thousand bricks "A S O N? Since When?!"

The small stranger gave a loud laugh as he ran away, disappearing behind a nearby corner and you were quick to follow, a lie or not this kid might know where Rosinante could be but he was way faster than you thought should be possible and the youngster vanished into the mist building up in the empty brick hallway "No he's... gone" you whimpered, gripping the white sheet in your frustrated fist but you could only try to hold back the hot tears daring to slip past strained eyelids "Rosinante.."

It took a moment but you were able to pack away this awful trick and ready to leave this shitty adventure behind, aiming to make it back into the warm the embrace of routine and sustained income, away from all this nonsense Pirate-Mafia-Undercover tomfoolery! AND secret children too!!

A couple of steps more and you'd make it to the exit which would lead back into city life, but those couple of steps can wait. Perhaps if you hide away in this mist for a little longer you'd catch a glance at Rosinante's so-called 'Son'

"You didn't really believe him, did you?"

You held back a sob in your throat, swallowing the tumult of emotions down into a hard cold stone as sweaty palms were held tightly over your mouth as you attempted to hold back the questions and the crying, as if your hands were holding your very soul together. The large male stepped closer, looming over you like a kind tree who decided that your beautiful form shan't be disturb by the moisture in the air "Wouldn't want your uniform ruined, would we?" he smiled, baring his teeth in rejoice for finally being able to see you again. He couldn't wait to hold you close, tell you about Law and their plan to run away from the problems of all four seas and let his brother fight it out with the Marine's until the very end of time, he hopped you'd approve. And you ask to come along and you could all become one big happy family, at least- that's what he hoped for in his silly fanfic fluff filled mind.

"Gah!" you flinched and held your arms in the air from fright, that is- until a familiar clown-clad face grinned at his litrle prank "But, I guess if I were to have a son, I'd want him to turn out just to be just like that lill shit head. Ugly face 'nd all"

An eavesdropping Law growled at the insult.

The scruffy child watched from afar, peeking his beady eye through a hole in the wooden fence he hid behind, watching keenly as Cora slowly held a hand up to you though he couldn't tell if the wirdo was using his Devil Fruit abilities or not, but you seemed unresponsive either way until the very tips of Rosinante's fingers brushed your jaw, and every emotion came crashing like a downpour of the heaviest rainstorm you could ever find yourself in.

"I missed you... so much Rosi" You held onto his large palm and pressed his skin into your soft cheek, like lightning to the creation Frankenstin he brought a shine of life back in your eyes and the blonde's smile faded into a soft curve of his lips before he brought his damp head to rest on yours "I've.. missed you too" he confessed with a certain ooze in his eyes, a certain ooze the clever little Law gagged at before recalling hiw his parents would gaze at one another no matter the years passed or time they spent apart for work.

You couldn't help but fall further into the warmth of his palm, collapsing into his body Rosinante surrounded you with his long arms and black feathered coat and you wished to stay here forever, but with a hand at your back you raised your warmth-filled orbs to the flushing criminal who could only think about literally kidnapping you and taking you away with Law, but like, not in a toxic way.

"Rosi" you held his reddend between damp palms, rubbing at his cheekbones with your thumbs and laughed "Your makeup is smudging"

"It's fine" he dragged a finger through the dark blue makeup under his right eye "I can always repaint it!" he laughed throwing an arm around your shoulders and walking you down the alley.

"Let's get you back to work, and then!" Rosinante's grin seemed to try and leave the sides of his face "I can introduce you to my new best pal, LAW!"

"Oh, you mean your son?"

"Yeah sure, whatever" he nudged you, and you smiled up at the blonde till he slipped on the most smooth texture known to man; Concrete and his black feathers are surrounded by hot fire.

You scream, local pedestrians scream and then buckets of water are thrown over his crispy corpse in hopes he survived the unfortunate ordeal, you knelt down and reach to swipe away Corazon's burnt locks as he forces a smile and a peace sign "Check me out, I'm burnin' with passion for ya"

You shook your head pared with an eye roll and infectious chuckle, calling the spy a fool as you both stood from his trip.

[bigfan-fanfic]

Iphicles - The Lightning Thief (Brother!Reader x Percy Jackson PLATONIC)

Part 1 here

Having a brother like Heracles definitely made Iphicles' life harder.

Heracles, when driven mad by Hera, killed Iphicles' children. Though Iphicles was a strong warrior and a Kalydonian boar hunter in his own right, he would never be out of his brother's shadow. Even his death was usually related to helping Heracles in some way.

But maybe, like you, he didn't care.

Or rather, he cared so much more for his brother than for himself.

Percy gets expelled from Yancy Academy and comes home, and you hate that you can never email him or anything because then the monsters will keep after him, and letters don't work because they'll tend to frustrate Percy when he tries to read your handwriting.

But at least your little brother trusts you - he tells you about Mrs. Dodds, and how everybody thinks he's crazy.

"Well, you are crazy." you tease him, and he elbows you with a smirk. "But I also believe you. I saw that awful old woman at parents' night, remember? Wore a leather jacket? Accent thicker than honey?"

You'll always believe him. What else is a big brother for?

Percy's surprised when you get home. Because the dynamic has shifted a little. You have a new part time job at AGS River Shipping - really Aegeus, one of Poseidon's other names. There, Poseidon or some mercenaries hired teach you how to fight.

You're not a demigod - you don't have those hard-wired battlefield instincts or the ability to innately read Ancient Greek.

But you can learn, and learn you do, training with a Celestial bronze spear - since you can't heal with ambrosia or nectar, you need as much distance between yourself and danger as possible. The mercs also teach you how to use a handgun - apparently the Cyclopes are working on a modified celestial bronze handgun.

In any case, your confidence, your slowly improving physique, your new knowledge - it shows in the way that you carry yourself, the way Gabe is more hesitant to engage in conflict with you. And in your more strained relationship with your mother.

You disapprove of Sally keeping Percy in the dark. And subjecting you both to Gabe because of her own hangups, about taking care of herself, about losing Percy... it's taken a bit of a toll - you want to be able to tell Percy, but both your mother and Yuri... and Poseidon have told you to let him find out on his own.

But, like always, there's that annual trip to Montauk.

For a moment, it all feels like old times. You joke and smile as usual.

But the winds heighten and the waves crash, and you sense the message from the lord of the sea: danger.

If Mom won't protect Percy, you will.

You're about to steal the car when Grover shows up, and Mom drives you all away from the monster that arrives.

Asterion, she calls it, and you know instantly what she means. You lean out the window and hurl your spear, which you can summon to your hand from a ring you wear now.

But Sally is distracted by this sudden reveal, and the car crashes.

You see that the Minotaur squeezes her into light, and she vanishes, and you see your brother turn the beast to yellow powder - and faint.

It's your job to get him to safety now. You're the only one left who cares about him.

With the last ounces of your strength, you throw Percy over one shoulder and Grover over the other, and you carry them both across the boundary line.

The last thing you see before passing out is a man in a wheelchair and a concerned man in a Hawaiian shirt looming over you.

"Oh dear... Uncle's been fiddling with Fate."