#this is either the best or worst thing I’ve ever made | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

elikajinnie · 2 months ago

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Wisdom And Death - N.R

P: DemiGod!Ni-ki X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Teasing, Sword fighting, Tension, Obsessive Behaviour (no literally), Jealousy if you squint, Park Wonbin Cameo.

Synopsis: You’ve just discovered you're the daughter of Athena, goddess of wisdom, and now you’re at Camp Half-Blood. You struggle to survive—but now Ni-ki, son of Hades seems to have taken an interest in you.

a/n: already done harry potter, why not try out percy jackson as well? i dont expect this to do good tbh..

You were a daughter of Athena, goddess of wisdom and strategy. It was a truth you had only recently learned, and not in the way you might have expected. Your father—distant, aloof, and perpetually overworked—had dropped the bombshell on you like it was just another item on his to-do list. For years, he had told you that your mother had died in childbirth, a tragic story you’d grown up swallowing whole. But then, out of nowhere, he decided it was time you knew the truth.

At first, you didn’t believe him. Who would? The idea of being the child of a literal goddess sounded absurd, like something out of one of those cheesy fantasy movies you used to watch. But your dad wouldn’t let you argue. He brushed off your questions with the same detached efficiency he used for everything else and, before you knew it, you were being shoved into the backseat of a car with a suitcase in one hand and a head full of unanswered questions.

That’s how you ended up here: a camp in the middle of the woods with a wooden sign swinging gently in the breeze. You tilted your head to read it, the letters etched deep into the grain: Camp Half-Blood.

"Right," you muttered to yourself. "Because Camp Mythological Heritage would’ve been too on the nose."

Still, there was no turning back now. With a shrug, you stepped past the entrance and into a world that felt like something out of a fever dream. Kids your age—and younger—were scattered across the campgrounds, each of them doing something more insane than the last. One kid was scaling a rock wall that was on fire, while another sparred with a partner using what looked like actual swords. Over by the lake, a group of campers were... were those horses? No, centaurs. Actual centaurs.

You stood frozen, your mouth slightly ajar. It was like stepping into a fantasy novel. Or a madhouse. You hadn’t decided which one yet.

“Well,” you muttered to yourself, “this is either going to be the best thing that ever happened to me... or the absolute worst.”

You made your way toward the center of the camp, still trying to process the sheer chaos unfolding around you. Everyone seemed so... at home here. But you, well, you felt like an outsider. Your entire life had been one thing, and now it was completely turned upside down. As you walked, you tried to ignore the tiny pit of unease growing in your stomach. This wasn’t what you had imagined. Then again, you hadn’t imagined much of anything.

Before you could spiral too much, a voice broke through your thoughts. "You must be the daughter of Athena," it said, smooth and calm, yet somehow with a touch of familiarity, as if it had known you your whole life.

You blinked up at the speaker, startled. Standing before you was a centaur—half man, half horse—his chest broad and dignified, and his eyes sharp, like he could see right through you. He was somehow... kind. A strange contrast to the world you had just walked into.

“Welcome,” he continued, extending a hand that you shook uncertainly. “I’m Chiron. I know this must be overwhelming, but we’re here to help.”

You raised an eyebrow. "Chiron? Like, the Chiron from Greek mythology?"

"That would be me," he said with a small chuckle. "But I’ve been around for a long time, you'll find the name a bit more casual in a place like this."

You blinked again, not sure how to react. This wasn’t the kind of welcome you had expected, but then again, nothing about this situation was what you’d imagined.

As Chiron began to explain the camp, his words flowed with an ease that made everything sound... normal. Like discovering you were the child of a goddess wasn’t as monumental as it seemed. He explained the demigod life with a sense of nonchalance, detailing the training you’d undergo. Everything had a rhythm to it, like a battle plan carefully constructed and laid out.

"Your mother, Athena," he said, his gaze softening for a moment, "she's one of the most revered of the Olympian gods. Intelligence, strategy, wisdom—they all run through her blood, and now, through yours."

You had to hold back a sigh. You’d heard about your mother’s legacy, but it felt distant, like a story told to you by someone who didn’t quite know the ending. Chiron, however, spoke like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"And here," he gestured grandly, "is where you’ll be staying."

You followed his gaze to a modest cabin that seemed to exude an aura of quiet authority. It was simple, yet elegant in its design, with the unmistakable feeling that it had been built for both function and beauty.

“This is the Athena cabin,” Chiron said, his voice low, respectful. “It’s where the children of Athena reside. You’ll find it to be a place of study, of strategy. And you’ll find that, like your mother, you will be expected to think and lead carefully.”

You stood before it, still unsure of how you were supposed to feel. "I’m supposed to live here now?" you asked, voice almost too small to be your own.

"Yes," Chiron replied, his smile gentle. “And while it may take some time to get used to, you'll find that the family you never knew you had is here. The other daughters of Athena will become your sisters—your allies in this world.”

You nodded, though you couldn’t help the doubts swirling in your mind. Could you really belong here? Could you live up to this legacy, to the expectations of a goddess you barely knew?

“Come,” Chiron said, turning toward the cabin. “Let’s get you settled in. And don’t worry, we’ve all been through this transition. You're not alone.”

The inside of the Athena cabin was everything you expected and more. Rows of bookshelves lined the walls, crammed with texts on strategy, philosophy, mythology, and other subjects you couldn’t even begin to comprehend. The air smelled faintly of parchment and ink, with a touch of something herbal—maybe mint or rosemary. There were maps and blueprints pinned to corkboards, some of them marked with notes in handwriting so precise it could have been printed. A large table dominated the center of the room, strewn with scrolls, chessboards, and what looked like the half-finished plans for a miniature catapult.

Several campers were scattered around the room, their heads bent in concentration. Some were reading, others sketching battle tactics, and a few were locked in intense chess matches. They didn’t look up as you entered, but you could feel their awareness. It was as if they had already sized you up without even glancing your way.

“This is your home now,” Chiron said, his voice low as he gestured around the room. “The children of Athena value intellect, strategy, and wisdom. You’ll find that everyone here has their own strengths, and soon, you’ll discover yours as well.”

You nodded, unsure of what to say. The room was intimidating in a way you couldn’t quite put into words. It wasn’t the weapons or the books or even the aura of focus—it was the expectation. The unspoken weight that came with being Athena’s child.

One of the campers finally looked up, a girl with sharp features and dark hair pulled into a braid. She stood, crossing her arms as she approached. “New kid?” she asked, her tone more curious than unkind. Her eyes seemed to assess you in an instant.

“Yes,” Chiron answered before you could. “This is Athena’s newest appointed daughter.”

The girl’s expression shifted slightly, softening just enough to put you at ease. She extended a hand. “I’m Sophia. Welcome to the Athena cabin.”

You shook her hand, her grip firm but not overwhelming. “Uh, thanks. I’m—”

“Don’t worry,” Sophia interrupted, a small smirk tugging at her lips. “We’ll learn your name soon enough. For now, let’s just focus on getting you settled in.” She turned back to Chiron. “We’ll take it from here.”

Chiron nodded, his expression approving. “Good. I’ll leave you to it, then.” He placed a hand on your shoulder briefly, his presence steadying. “You’re in good hands here. I’ll check in with you later.”

And with that, he left, his hooves clopping softly against the wooden floor as he disappeared out the door.

Sophia turned back to you, her smirk widening. “Well, newbie, let’s get this over with. You’ll be bunking over here.” She led you to a bed near the back of the cabin, neatly made with gray blankets and pillows. A small wooden trunk sat at the foot of it, clearly meant for your belongings. “It’s not much, but you’ll get used to it.”

You set your bag down, glancing around at the other bunks. Everything was organized, almost militaristically so. No stray clothes, no clutter—just a quiet efficiency that made your own messy habits feel glaringly obvious.

Sophia must have noticed your hesitation because she raised an eyebrow. “Don’t worry. We don’t bite. Much.” She tilted her head toward the other campers. “Most of us are too busy with our projects to bother anyone. Just don’t touch anyone’s stuff without asking, and you’ll be fine.”

You nodded, sitting on the edge of your bed. “So… what now?”

“Now,” Sophia said, crossing her arms again, “you try to survive. Training starts tomorrow morning, bright and early. Hope you’re ready to learn how to wield a weapon, because monsters won’t care how good you are at chess.”

Your stomach flipped at the mention of monsters, but you tried not to let it show. “Great,” you muttered. “Sounds fun.”

Sophia chuckled, shaking her head. “Don’t worry, newbie. We’ve all been where you are. You’ll find your place soon enough.”

With that, she walked off, leaving you alone to process everything. You lay back on the bed, staring up at the wooden ceiling. The sounds of the camp filtered in through the open windows—laughter, the clang of swords, the steady rhythm of feet pounding the ground.

You exhaled slowly, trying to let the noises outside soothe the storm of thoughts swirling in your mind. It didn’t work. How could it, when the weight of everything that had happened in the past few days pressed down on you like a lead blanket? You were the daughter of a goddess. A literal goddess. How were you supposed to live up to that? You didn’t feel particularly wise or strategic. You felt... normal. Average. Like a fish suddenly thrown into a sea of sharks.

A knock on the doorframe startled you out of your thoughts. You sat up quickly, your heart skipping a beat as you looked toward the entrance. A boy stood there, leaning casually against the frame with his arms crossed. His sandy blonde hair was messy, like he’d just come from sparring, and there was a faint smear of dirt on his cheek. He looked about your age, maybe a little older, with an easy confidence that made you feel even more out of place.

“Hey,” he said, his voice light but curious. “You’re the new Athena kid, huh?”

You nodded slowly, unsure of how to respond. “Uh, yeah. That’s me.”

He grinned, pushing off the doorframe and stepping inside. “Figures. You’ve got that look about you.”

You frowned, tilting your head. “What look?”

“You know,” he said, gesturing vaguely, “all serious and... thinking about ten things at once. Classic Athena kid behavior.”

You weren’t sure if that was a compliment or not. “And you are?”

“Jake,” he said, sticking out a hand. “Son of Apollo.”

You hesitated for half a second before shaking his hand. His grip was firm but friendly, and his smile was disarming. “Nice to meet you, I guess.”

“Guess?” he repeated with a mock pout. “Wow, tough crowd.”

You couldn’t help but smile a little, despite yourself. There was something about him that put you at ease, even if his confidence was a little overwhelming.

“So,” he said, glancing around the cabin before turning back to you, “how’s your first day going? Overwhelmed yet?”

“More like completely lost,” you admitted. “I don’t even know where to start.”

Jake nodded knowingly. “Yeah, that’s pretty normal. Everyone feels like that at first. But don’t worry, you’ll get the hang of it. Just... try not to overthink everything. I know it’s, like, in your DNA or whatever, but trust me, this place is way easier to deal with if you just roll with the punches.”

“Right,” you said, not entirely convinced. “Easy for you to say. You’ve probably been here forever.”

“Three years,” he said, shrugging. “But it feels like forever sometimes. You’ll get used to it, though. And if you ever need someone to show you the ropes, I’m your guy.”

Before you could respond, there was a loud clang from outside, followed by a chorus of cheers. Jake glanced toward the window, his grin widening.

“Looks like the sparring matches are heating up,” he said. “You should come watch. It’s a good way to see what you’re up against.”

You hesitated, glancing back at your bed. Part of you wanted to stay there, to retreat into yourself and avoid the chaos outside for just a little longer. But another part of you—smaller, quieter, but undeniably there—wanted to see what this world was really about.

“Alright,” you said finally, standing up. “Lead the way.”

Jake’s grin grew wider, and he gestured for you to follow him. “That’s the spirit. Welcome to Camp Half-Blood, newbie. Time to see what you’re made of.”

You stepped out of the cabin, squinting against the sunlight as Jake led the way toward an open training area. The sounds of sparring filled the air—the clash of metal against metal, the thud of bodies hitting the ground, and the occasional shout of victory.

The training ground was a wide, dusty circle surrounded by spectators, most of them campers who were either waiting their turn or simply enjoying the show. In the middle, pairs of campers were locked in combat. Some used swords and shields, while some fought barehanded, relying on strength, agility, and strategy to try and knock each other down.

“Pretty cool, huh?” Jake said, glancing over his shoulder at you.

You nodded, your eyes wide as you took in the scene. “Yeah. Intense, though.”

Jake chuckled. “You get used to it. Let’s introduce you to some of the gang. You’re going to be seeing a lot of these faces, so might as well start remembering names.”

He led you over to a group of campers who were sitting on a bench, watching the matches with keen interest. They turned as you approached, their expressions ranging from curious to welcoming.

“This is Soobin,” Jake said, gesturing to a tall boy with jet-black hair and kind eyes. He offered you a small smile, his voice calm as he spoke. “Son of Apollo.”

You nodded, trying to commit his name and face to memory. “Nice to meet you, Soobin.”

Next, Jake pointed to a girl with short, choppy hair dyed a silvery gray. Her arms were crossed, and she had a confident smirk that told you she didn’t take herself too seriously. “This is Chaewon, daughter of Ares. She’s one of the best fighters here, so don’t get on her bad side.”

Chaewon snorted. “I’m not that scary.” She winked at you. “Unless you’re dumb enough to challenge me, of course.”

You laughed nervously, making a mental note to stay far away from her during sparring sessions.

Jake moved on to a pair of twins who were practically radiating energy. They had identical bright smiles and matching dimples. “These two are Jiwoo and Jiyeon, daughters of Hermes. If anything goes missing, it’s probably their fault.”

“Hey!” Jiyeon protested, though her grin didn’t waver. “We’ve been so well-behaved lately.”

“Relatively,” Jiwoo added with a wink.

You couldn’t help but smile at their playful energy. “Got it. Keep my stuff locked up.”

“Smart girl,” Jiwoo said approvingly.

Jake led you around the rest of the training ground, introducing you to more campers.

There was Minho, son of Hephaestus, a quiet boy with soot-streaked hands and a shy smile who loved to tinker with weapons and gadgets. “If you need a custom weapon or armor, come find me,” he said softly.

Then there was Yeji, daughter of Demeter, who was tending to a small garden on the outskirts of the training area. She wiped her hands on her jeans and smiled warmly. “If camp food gets boring, I can help you find the best fruits and veggies around.”

And finally, Jake introduced you to Seungmin, son of Dionysus, who was leaning against a tree with his arms crossed. “Good luck surviving your first week.”

“Uh, thanks?” you said, not entirely sure if that was encouragement or a warning.

By the time Jake finished the introductions, your head was spinning with names, faces, and parentage. You did your best to commit them all to memory, but you had a feeling it was going to take a while before you got them all straight.

Jake clapped you on the shoulder, grinning. “Not so bad, right? Everyone’s pretty chill once you get to know them.”

“Sure,” you said, though you still felt a little overwhelmed. “But it’s a lot to take in.”

“Trust me, you’ll be fine,” Jake said confidently. He nodded toward the sparring ring. “Now, want to watch a match or two? Or are you feeling brave enough to give it a try yourself?”

You glanced at the campers sparring in the ring, their movements fast and fierce. Part of you wanted to jump in, to prove to yourself that you could handle this new life. But another part wasn’t quite ready.

“I think I’ll stick to watching for now,” you said with a small laugh.

Jake nodded, his grin never fading. “Fair enough. Let’s find a good spot, then. You’re going to want to pay attention—there’s a lot you can learn just from watching.”

Jake led you to a shaded spot under a tree with a perfect view of the sparring ring. He plopped down on the ground, motioning for you to do the same. You settled in beside him, your eyes fixed on the action.

"See that?" Jake nudged you, pointing at one of the fighters. "That’s Hyunjin, son of Aphrodite."

You nodded, watching as Hyunjin disarmed his opponent with a flourish that looked almost effortless.

The match ended with a loud cheer, and you were about to ask Jake a question when the atmosphere in the training ground shifted as someone new stepped into the ring.

He was tall—easily the tallest person you’d seen so far—and carried himself with a quiet confidence that was somehow more intimidating than if he’d been loud and boastful. His dark hair fell just over his sharp eyes, and in his hand, he twirled a sword with the kind of ease that made it look like an extension of his arm.

“Who’s that?” you leaned over and whispered to Jake, unable to tear your eyes away from the newcomer.

Jake followed your gaze and chuckled softly. “That’s Ni-ki,” he said. “Son of Hades. Don’t feel bad if he gives you the chills—he does that to everyone.”

You didn’t respond. You were too focused on Ni-ki as he stepped into the center of the ring, his gaze cool and unbothered as he sized up his opponent. The person across from him was someone you didn’t recognize—a stocky boy who looked strong but not nearly as composed.

The match began, and from the very first move, it was clear that Ni-ki was on a completely different level. He didn’t just fight—he dominated. His movements were precise, calculated, almost lazy in their efficiency. Every swing of his sword, every step he took, was purposeful. It was like he was playing a game of chess, except the pieces were his opponent’s mistakes, and he was three moves ahead the entire time.

You found yourself holding your breath as you watched. The other boy lunged, swinging his weapon with all his might, but Ni-ki sidestepped effortlessly, his expression bored. With a flick of his wrist, he disarmed the boy, sending his weapon skidding across the ground.

The fight ended in seconds. Ni-ki didn’t gloat, didn’t smile—he simply turned and walked away, his sword resting on his shoulder as if it weighed nothing.

The crowd erupted into cheers and murmurs, but you were still frozen in place, your eyes following Ni-ki as he disappeared toward the edge of the training area.

“You okay?” Jake asked, nudging you lightly.

“Yeah,” you said quickly, though your voice felt distant even to your own ears.

Jake smirked knowingly. “Yeah, he has that effect on people. Don’t let him intimidate you too much, though. He’s not as scary as he looks.”

You glanced at Jake, raising an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Okay, maybe he is,” Jake admitted with a laugh. “But he’s not all bad. He’s just... intense.”

Intense. That felt like an understatement. You looked back toward where Ni-ki had gone, half expecting him to be watching from the shadows. But he was gone, leaving you with a strange, lingering curiosity that you couldn’t quite shake.

As the sparring matches wound down, you decided to take the chance to explore more of the camp. There was so much to take in—the cabins, the armory, the various training areas—it all felt like a strange blend of summer camp and battlefield.

You were just passing by the archery range when something zipped by your head, close enough that you felt the breeze as it passed. You yelped, instinctively ducking as the arrow thudded into a target a few feet away.

“Oh my gods, I’m so sorry!” a voice called out.

You turned toward the source of the voice, your heart still racing, and froze. The guy jogging toward you was... well, there was no other way to put it: stunning. He had soft, wavy hair that caught the sunlight just right, warm brown eyes, and a jawline that looked like it had been carved by one of the gods themselves. Was everyone here this ridiculously attractive?

“Uh, it’s okay,” you managed to say, brushing off the shock. “I dodged in time.”

He let out a huff of relief, running a hand through his hair. “Phew. For a second there, I thought I’d actually hit you. That would’ve been one heck of a first impression.”

You laughed nervously, trying not to stare too hard. “Yeah, not exactly the warmest welcome, but I’ll survive.”

He grinned, his confidence shining through. “Still, almost hitting the newbie? That’s got to be a new low for me.” He extended a hand toward you. “I’m Wonbin, son of Aphrodite. And before you say anything, yes, I’m that good-looking because of my mom. Comes with the territory.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his candor as you shook his hand. “I’m Y/N. Daughter of Athena.”

“Ah, an Athena kid,” he said, his grin turning into a smirk. “Figures. You’ve got that sharp, calculating look in your eyes. Kind of intimidating, actually.”

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. “Intimidating? Me? You’re the one firing arrows at innocent bystanders.”

Wonbin laughed, the sound light and easy. “Fair point. I’ll owe you one for that—free archery lessons, maybe? You know, to keep you from dodging arrows next time.”

You rolled your eyes, but the offer didn’t sound half-bad. “I’ll think about it.”

“Do that,” he said with a wink. “Anyway, I should probably get back to practice before Chiron yells at me again. See you around, newbie.”

As he walked back toward the range, you couldn’t help but shake your head with a smile. If nothing else, Camp Half-Blood was full of... colorful personalities.

Your aimless wandering had brought you to the edge of the camp, where the cabins grew more spaced out and quiet. One cabin in particular caught your attention—it was darker than the others, its aura foreboding and unnervingly still. The door was closed, and the windows were tinted, making it impossible to see inside. You tilted your head, curiosity tugging at you as you wondered which camper called this place home.

“You’re pretty far from your cabin.”

The sudden voice made you jump, and you whipped around quickly, heart thudding in your chest.

Oh.

It was Ni-ki.

He stood there like a shadow given form, his dark eyes glinting in the dim light. His expression was unreadable, and he seemed even taller up close—towering over you with an intensity that made you instinctively take a step back.

“What are you doing out here?” he asked, his voice low and even, though there was a hint of something in his tone—amusement, maybe? Or just curiosity?

You cleared your throat, hoping he didn’t notice how startled you were. “I, uh… I was just exploring. Didn’t mean to wander this far.”

Ni-ki’s gaze flicked to the dark cabin behind you, and for a moment, his expression softened—just barely. “This isn’t exactly the friendliest part of camp,” he said. “Especially for someone new.”

You glanced back at the cabin, suddenly feeling a little foolish for standing there. “Whose cabin is it?”

“It’s mine,” Ni-ki said simply.

Your eyes widened slightly as you looked back at him. “Yours? Oh.”

He raised an eyebrow at your reaction, crossing his arms over his chest. “What, expecting a skull on the door or something?”

“No,” you said quickly, then hesitated. “Well, maybe.”

Ni-ki huffed a quiet laugh, though it was more like a sharp exhale. “Relax. It’s just a cabin, not the gates of the Underworld.”

You weren’t entirely sure about that, given the eerie vibe the place gave off, but you decided not to push it. “Right. Sorry for… lurking.”

He studied you for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he were trying to figure you out. The silence stretched just long enough to feel uncomfortable before he finally spoke again.

“You’re the new Athena kid, right?”

You nodded. “Yeah. How’d you know?”

“Jake doesn’t shut up,” he said bluntly, though there was the faintest twitch of a smile at the corner of his mouth.

You let out a nervous laugh, unsure of how to respond. Ni-ki didn’t seem like the kind of person you could easily read—or impress, for that matter.

“Well,” he said, shifting his weight slightly, “if you’re done wandering, you should probably head back to your cabin. This side of camp isn’t exactly the best place to hang out.”

“Why?” you asked before you could stop yourself.

Ni-ki’s expression darkened, and for a split second, you thought he wasn’t going to answer. But then he stepped closer—just enough to make you aware of how much taller he was—and said quietly, “Let’s just say not everything here is as safe as it looks.”

A chill ran down your spine at his words, and you swallowed hard, nodding. “Got it. Heading back now.”

Ni-ki stepped aside, gesturing for you to go. As you walked past him, you couldn’t help but glance back over your shoulder. He was still standing there, watching you with an unreadable expression, the dark cabin looming behind him like a shadow.

Something about him lingered in your mind as you made your way back to your own cabin.

When you pushed open the door to the Athena cabin and paused. Inside, the girls were gathered in a tight circle on the floor, their heads close together, whispering and giggling in a way that seemed almost conspiratorial. Books, notebooks, and even a small chalkboard sat in the middle of the ring, covered in scrawled notes and diagrams.

The moment you stepped in, all eyes turned to you. You froze under their collective gaze, unsure of whether you’d just walked into something secret or sacred.

“What are you doing?” you asked hesitantly, glancing between them.

Sophia, the girl who’d first greeted you when you arrived, smiled and gestured for you to sit beside her. “Come join us. We’re just quizzing each other—it’s kind of a thing we do regularly.”

You hesitated for a moment before shrugging and stepping forward. Sophia shifted to make space for you, and as you sat down, you noticed the mix of curiosity and warmth in the girls’ faces.

“We’ll start a new round for you,” said Haewon, her voice steady but kind. She had a book open in her lap, the pages filled with notes in tiny, precise handwriting. “Do you want to give it a try?”

“Sure,” you said, unsure of what exactly you were getting yourself into but willing to play along.

Ryujin grinned, leaning back on her hands. “Alright, let’s see if the new girl can keep up.”

Yunjin nudged her with a playful glare. “Be nice.”

The first question came from Soyeon, who looked at you with sharp, calculating eyes. “Who was the mother of Perseus?”

Your brain scrambled for the answer, and you barely managed to get it out. “Danaë.”

Soyeon nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Good. Next.”

The questions came rapid-fire after that, bouncing between Greek mythology, mathematical equations, Roman history, and even abstract, theoretical problems.

“What’s the square root of 729?”

“27.”

“Who was the first Roman emperor?”

“Augustus.”

“If a tree falls in the forest and no one’s around to hear it, does it make a sound?”

“…Uh, depends on your definition of ‘sound.’”

The girls laughed at that one, even Leeseo, who had been scribbling furiously in a notebook the entire time.

Every time you got an answer right, you felt a surge of pride, and when you got one wrong, the girls explained it without a hint of judgment.

Sophia leaned over at one point, nudging you with her shoulder. “You’re doing better than I did my first time.”

“Really?” you asked, half-laughing as Haewon fired off another question about theoretical physics.

“Really,” Sophia said with a grin. “You’ll fit right in.”

You had proven it to yourself. You were one of them.

The morning light filtered through the trees, as you stood in the training area, still feeling the weight of the armor strapped to your body. It wasn’t much—light armor, a sword, and a shield—but it was enough to make you feel like you were suddenly expected to be someone else, someone capable of defending themselves.

You awkwardly adjusted the straps, wondering just how much of a disaster your first training session would be. You didn’t even know what to do with the sword yet—let alone how to hold the shield properly.

That’s when you felt it—someone’s gaze on you. You turned, and your eyes locked with a guy standing just a few paces away. You recognized him immediately. It was hard not to—he was a son of Ares, and he looked the part. Broad-shouldered, with a sharp, aggressive expression, his dark eyes narrowed as he sized you up, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Are you just going to stand there all day, or are you going to learn how to use that thing?” he called out, his tone sharp, almost challenging.

You straightened up, heart racing. “Uh… I’m not really sure what to do…”

He snorted, clearly unimpressed. “Yeah, I figured. Don’t worry, kid. You’re about to find out.”

Before you could react, he was on you—his movements swift and brutal as he lunged forward, his sword aimed directly at your chest. You barely had time to raise your shield, the force of the blow almost knocking you off your feet.

Your heart pounded in your ears, and for a moment, you wondered if you should just give up—if maybe you weren’t cut out for this. But then, a quiet voice in the back of your mind reminded you who your mother was. Athena. Goddess of wisdom and strategy. You weren’t just any camper here. You had the blood of a warrior in you, even if it felt distant.

“Focus,” you whispered to yourself, trying to steady your breathing.

The son of Ares swung again, but this time you were ready. You sidestepped, your body moving almost instinctively as your shield blocked the next attack. You could feel the heat from his strikes, the raw power behind each one.

“Not bad,” he grunted, clearly surprised by your ability to dodge. “But don’t just block—counterattack!”

Counterattack. You barely had time to think before another strike came at you, but this time, your instincts took over. You shifted, raising your sword and parrying his strike. It wasn’t perfect, but it was enough to push him off balance. You swung back, though he easily blocked it with his own shield.

This continued for a few more rounds, the fight becoming more of a dance between the two of you, until you found yourself growing more comfortable, your movements becoming sharper and more deliberate. The son of Ares didn’t give you an inch, but you were beginning to see the patterns in his strikes—predicting where his next attack would come from, even as your breath grew heavier.

You didn’t win the sparring match—he was still faster, stronger, and more experienced—but by the time it ended, you felt greatful to be alive.

“Not bad for a newbie,” the son of Ares said, stepping back and giving you a nod of approval. “You’ve got some guts.”

You wiped the sweat from your brow, your heart still racing. “I... I didn’t think I could do that.”

He gave you a look that was almost approving, though his face still carried that rough edge. “You’re a daughter of Athena, right? You should’ve known you had it in you.”

You nodded, though doubt still lingered in the back of your mind. Were you really your mother’s daughter? Sure, you’d dodged and blocked the attacks, but did that make you a true warrior?

The son of Ares turned and walked away, leaving you standing there, your sword in hand and your shield still raised, as the sounds of camp life continued around you.

Just as you were trying to catch your breath, still processing the son of Ares’ brutal training session, you heard a voice—a familiar, mocking tone that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Well, well, looks like you’re still standing,” Ni-ki said, his voice smooth and teasing.

You looked up, and there he was. He was dressed in light armor like you, a sword and shield strapped to his side, his posture relaxed as he twirled his sword in his hand, almost as if he were showing off. The corner of his lips curled into a smirk as he locked eyes with you.

“What? You’re gonna just stand there?” Ni-ki teased, his tone light but laced with challenge.

You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could even form a sentence, Ni-ki moved.

His sword came down fast and hard, the sharp clang of metal on metal ringing through the air as you barely managed to raise your shield in time to deflect the blow. Your heart raced, your hands still shaky from the last sparring session, and now here he was—moving with a confidence and skill that was hard to match.

“Come on, I thought Athena’s kids were supposed to be smarter than this,” Ni-ki called out, his voice laced with amusement as he swung again. You had no choice but to dodge, the blade narrowly missing your side.

His attacks came rapid-fire, each one pushing you to the edge. It was like he was anticipating every move you made. You were barely keeping up, forced to sidestep and block with everything you had. He kept moving, his footwork impeccable as he darted around you, only giving you brief moments to catch your breath.

“Come on, you’re not still getting outclassed, are you?” Ni-ki called, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he swung again. You could feel the heat of the sword as it sliced through the air.

Frustration burned in your chest. You couldn’t keep dodging forever.

Without hesitation, you swung your sword at him, a wild, almost desperate strike aimed at his torso.

Ni-ki parried the blow effortlessly, deflecting it with a flick of his wrist. Then, he stopped and actually clapped.

“Well, at least you’re trying now,” he said, his smirk widening.

You froze for a moment, bewildered by his nonchalant attitude. Before you could process, he vanished.

One second he was in front of you, and the next—he was behind you. You didn’t even have time to react before you felt the lightest push to your back, and you were sent tumbling to the ground.

You gasped, staring up at Ni-ki as he stood over you. “What… what was that?”

Ni-ki simply raised an eyebrow, his gaze cool and almost bored. “That? Oh, just a little trick I picked up from my dad.”

Your mind raced, trying to comprehend what had just happened. “A trick?” you asked, still on the ground, trying to push yourself up.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice casual. “It’s an ability. Using shadows to teleport short distances, just like that.”

Your eyes widened in disbelief. Teleporting? From his father, Hades? It was the kind of power you’d only heard about in stories, something that seemed impossible to even imagine.

“Right…” you muttered, still on the ground, looking up at him in a mix of awe and frustration.

Ni-ki simply shrugged, his expression unreadable. “Not bad, though. You’ll catch up eventually. If you don’t want to end up on the floor every time.”

With that, he turned on his heel and walked off, leaving you sitting there in the dirt, your sword and shield at your side. You could feel the sting of both your physical exhaustion and your bruised pride.

He made it look so easy—effortless.

You stood up, brushing off the dirt from your armor with a frustrated sigh, your fingers lingering on the spots where the ground had scraped your skin. You were still catching your breath, but it was clear—combat wasn’t going to be your immediate strong suit, not like it was for some of the others.

“Yeah, I may have a long way to go with combat,” you muttered under your breath, “but there’s still other stuff I’m good at.”

That thought pushed you forward, and soon you were walking toward the archery range, a small glimmer of determination lighting the way. The bow had always felt more natural to you than the sword and shield, even before you knew about your mother.

The sound of arrows hitting targets echoed through the area as you arrived. The archery range was lined with targets, some already peppered with arrows, others waiting for their turn. A few campers were already practicing, some with impressive skill, others just beginning to find their rhythm.

You walked to one of the nearby racks, grabbing a bow and quiver of arrows. It was lighter than you remembered, but sturdy in your hands. You took a moment to steady yourself, feeling the familiar grip, testing the tension in your fingers.

"Mind if I join?" you asked, glancing at the nearest archer—a tall, lean girl with long black hair who was effortlessly nailing the bullseye on her target.

She turned to you, her eyes scanning your form before giving a small nod. “Sure, go ahead.”

You didn’t say anything more. You simply nocked an arrow, drew it back, and aimed. Your focus sharpened, everything around you fading away as you lined up your shot. A deep breath, and then you released the arrow.

It flew true, hitting the target dead center.

The girl raised an eyebrow in mild surprise. “Okay, I admit it. You’ve got skill.”

You couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. It wasn’t combat, but this—that felt like something you could excel at.

“Thanks,” you said, adjusting your stance and preparing for another shot. “I’ve always been better with a bow.”

You didn’t have the strength or speed that the others seemed to carry so naturally, but this was something you could control, something that felt more like you.

For a while, you just kept shooting, blocking out everything except the pull of the string, the release, and the thrill of hitting your target. It was grounding, in a way.

After a few more rounds, the girl who had been watching you approached again. She was still eyeing your shots, but this time with more interest.

“You’ve got good instincts,” she said, a hint of respect in her voice. “I’m Emily, daughter of Ares.”

You smiled at her, setting down the bow for a moment. “Nice to meet you. I’m Y/N. Daughter of Athena.”

Seoyeon nodded. “I can see that. You definitely have the focus of your mom.”

You didn’t know if it was a compliment or just an observation, but it felt like the first time someone actually saw the connection between you and Athena in a positive way.

“Thanks,” you said again, feeling a sense of pride. Maybe you still had a lot to prove, but you were starting to see the things you were good at.

A few days passed, and you’d settled into a routine at Camp Half-Blood. Though you weren’t great with a sword yet, you’d at least stopped embarrassing yourself entirely.

One morning, while heading back from the archery range, you spotted a familiar face lounging near the stables. Wonbin. He wasn’t holding a bow this time, nor was he causing chaos by almost hitting you with an arrow. Instead, he was leaning against a post, his arms crossed casually as he watched a group of campers walk by.

You hesitated for a moment before walking over, unsure of what to expect.

"Still dodging arrows, or have you gotten better?" he teased as you approached, a playful grin spreading across his face.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “I’m not dodging anything anymore. And, for the record, I’m actually pretty good with a bow.”

“Oh, I know. I saw you at the range yesterday,” he said, surprising you. “Not bad for a newbie.”

“Wow, high praise coming from you,” you shot back, crossing your arms.

Wonbin laughed, the sound light and easy, and for a moment, you realized just how relaxed he seemed compared to some of the other campers.

“You’re fun to mess with, you know,” he said, tilting his head slightly. “But I’m not just here to tease you. You looked a little stiff when you were sparring the other day. Want some help?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “You want to help me?”

“Why not? Someone’s gotta make sure you don’t embarrass yourself in front of everyone,” he said with a wink. “Besides, I’m a great teacher.”

You snorted but nodded. “Alright, fine. Show me what you’ve got.”

The two of you made your way to the training grounds, where it was surprisingly quiet for the time of day. Wonbin handed you a wooden training sword, the weight of it familiar but still slightly awkward in your hand.

“Okay, first things first,” Wonbin said, stepping in front of you. “Stop gripping it like it’s a lifeline. You’re not strangling the sword. Loosen up a bit.”

You adjusted your grip, and he nodded in approval.

“Good. Now, let’s see how you move.”

He took you through a few basic drills, correcting your stance and showing you how to shift your weight when you swung. Unlike the other demigods, Wonbin was patient. He didn’t push too hard or make you feel like you were failing every time you messed up. Instead, he laughed when you tripped over your own feet and offered encouragement when you got it right.

“You’re getting there,” he said after a particularly decent swing. “But you’re thinking too much. Stop trying to overanalyze every move.”

“Thinking is kind of my thing,” you muttered, adjusting your stance again.

“Well, turn it off for a bit. Just feel the movement. Trust me, it’ll click eventually.”

And to your surprise, it did start to click. Slowly but surely, the awkwardness of holding a sword began to fade, replaced by a sense of control you hadn’t felt before.

“You’re actually pretty good at this,” you admitted after a while, lowering your sword to wipe the sweat from your brow.

“Told you I’m a great teacher,” Wonbin said with a smirk. “But you’re not bad yourself. You’ve got potential. Just stop overthinking.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Easier said than done.”

The two of you sat down for a break, and you found yourself relaxing in his company. Wonbin was suprisingly easy to talk to.

“You know,” you said after a moment, “you’re actually kind of fun to be around. When you’re not shooting arrows at me, I mean.”

Wonbin grinned, leaning back on his hands. “I’ll take that as a compliment. And, for the record, I wasn’t trying to hit you. Just keeping you on your toes.”

“Sure you were,” you said, rolling your eyes.

While laughing at one of Wonbin’s jokes, you suddenly felt a strange sensation, like the weight of someone’s gaze on you. It was sharp, unrelenting, and impossible to ignore. You turned your head, scanning the area, and that’s when your eyes locked onto him.

Ni-ki.

He was leaning casually against a tree not far from the training grounds, an apple in one hand as he bit into it with an air of complete indifference. But his eyes told a different story. He wasn’t just looking at you; he was staring.

For a moment, you froze, caught in his intense gaze. His expression was unreadable, but there was something in the way he was watching you that made your stomach flip.

“Uh, hello?” Wonbin’s voice broke through your thoughts. “You still with me, or did you just see a ghost?”

You blinked, tearing your eyes away from Ni-ki to look back at Wonbin. “What? No, I’m fine. Just… thought I saw something.”

Wonbin followed your gaze and immediately caught sight of Ni-ki. He let out a low whistle. “Ohhh, I see. Tall, dark, and broody over there, huh? That’s Ni-ki for you. Likes to stare people down for no reason. Don’t let him get to you.”

“I’m not letting him get to me,” you said quickly, but the heat rising to your cheeks betrayed you.

Wonbin grinned, clearly amused. “Sure, sure. Just saying, he’s got that whole mysterious bad boy thing going on, doesn’t he? It’s kind of his signature.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to play it cool, but your curiosity was already piqued. Without realizing it, your gaze drifted back to Ni-ki.

This time, he smirked. Just the faintest twitch of his lips, but it was there, and it made your heart skip a beat. Like he knew exactly what he was doing.

Wonbin caught the exchange and snorted. “Oh, this is gonna be interesting. You two haven’t even talked yet, have you?”

“Not really,” you admitted, feeling a little self-conscious.

“Well, you better get used to it,” Wonbin said, leaning back on his hands. “Ni-ki doesn’t just stare at people for fun. If he’s looking at you like that, he’s either curious or he’s decided you’re worth messing with. Either way, good luck.”

You swallowed hard, stealing one last glance at Ni-ki before turning your attention back to Wonbin.

“Yeah, thanks,” you muttered, trying to shake the strange mix of nerves and intrigue Ni-ki had sparked in you.

You found yourself staring back at Ni-ki, unable to stop. His gaze was unwavering, sharp, and entirely unapologetic. There was a challenge in it, though you couldn’t tell what kind. Instead of looking away, you tilted your head slightly, trying to match his intensity, as if silently asking, What? What do you want?

Ni-ki took another bite of his apple, his eyes never leaving yours. That smirk tugged at his lips again, subtle but undeniably there, like he found your silent defiance amusing.

Meanwhile, Wonbin was still talking. Something about strategy, sparring tips, or maybe camp gossip—you weren’t really sure. His voice had faded into the background, your attention too firmly locked on Ni-ki.

“...and that’s why you never spar with a son of Hermes if they’re smiling,” Wonbin said with a laugh, nudging your arm lightly. “You listening?”

“Mm-hmm,” you mumbled, not breaking eye contact with Ni-ki.

Wonbin followed your line of sight and let out a low chuckle. “You’re still looking at him? Wow, he’s really got you hooked, huh?”

That snapped you out of it. You turned back to Wonbin, your cheeks heating up. “I’m not—! I was just—!”

Wonbin grinned, cutting you off with a knowing look. “Relax, I’m just messing with you. But seriously, if you’re gonna have a staring contest with Ni-ki, you better prepare to lose."

You glanced back toward the tree, but Ni-ki was no longer leaning there. He had disappeared, as silently as he’d been watching you, leaving nothing behind but the faint rustle of leaves in the breeze.

“See? Creepy, right?” Wonbin said, shaking his head. “He’s like a shadow.”

You frowned, a mix of confusion and curiosity bubbling in your chest. “He’s… something, alright.”

Wonbin laughed and stood, brushing dirt off his pants. “Come on. If you keep thinking about him, you’ll drive yourself crazy. Let’s hit the dining pavilion before lunch is gone.”

You followed him, but your thoughts kept drifting back to Ni-ki. There was something about him, something you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

You swore life had a vendetta or something against you. Beacuse no matter where you went, no matter how much you tried to focus on your surroundings, he was there.

It wasn’t just his presence that was getting to you—it was how he lived in your head now, too. Every time your mind wandered, it seemed to settle on him.

Ni-ki, leaning against a tree.

Ni-ki, passing by with that ever-present smirk.

Ni-ki, sparring in the distance and throwing a glance your way like he knew you’d been watching.

It was irritating, frustrating, and honestly a little confusing. You didn’t even know the guy, but somehow, he’d gotten under your skin.

Finally, you decided you needed to clear your head. Without telling anyone, you set off on a walk, leaving the noisy heart of camp behind. The greenery stretched out around you, tall trees swaying gently in the breeze. It was quiet here, save for the rustling of leaves and the occasional birdcall.

You didn’t have a destination in mind, nor did you need one. All you wanted was space to breathe, to think without distractions, without Ni-ki lurking in your peripheral vision.

The further you walked, the more you began to relax. The sunlight filtering through the leaves painted dappled patterns on the ground, and the earthy smell of the forest calmed your racing thoughts.

You found yourself stopping by a small clearing, where the grass was soft and the air felt lighter. Sitting down, you let out a long sigh, letting yourself unwind. For the first time in days, your mind felt quiet.

But of course, the peace didn’t last.

“Running away from something?”

The voice was low, smooth, and instantly recognizable. Your eyes shot open, and sure enough, there he was—Ni-ki, standing at the edge of the clearing, hands tucked casually into his pockets.

You groaned, throwing your head back. “Seriously? Do you just appear everywhere, or do you follow me on purpose?”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Why would I follow you? You’re the one who always looks at me.”

Your cheeks flushed, and you scrambled to your feet. “I do not always look at you!”

Ni-ki stepped closer, the smirk on his face growing. “You sure about that?”

“Yes!” you snapped, though the heat in your face betrayed you.

For a moment, he said nothing, just studying you with that unreadable expression of his. Then, he shrugged. “If you say so.”

“Why are you even here?” you asked, crossing your arms. “Don’t you have someone else to bother?”

Ni-ki shrugged, the corner of his mouth curling up in that signature smirk. “Probably. But where’s the fun in that?”

He started walking, slow and deliberate, circling around you like a predator sizing up its prey. His steps were light, almost lazy, but his eyes—sharp and dark—never left yours.

“You make it too easy,” he continued, his tone teasing. “The way you get all flustered? Kind of entertaining.”

Your arms tightened over your chest as you turned to keep him in your line of sight. “I’m not flustered.”

He stopped just behind you, leaning in slightly. “You sure about that?”

The hair on the back of your neck stood up as his voice dropped lower, teasing and amused. You spun around to face him, trying to hold your ground.

“Yes, I’m sure!” you snapped, glaring at him.

Ni-ki raised an eyebrow, his smirk deepening. “Alright, if you say so.” He resumed his slow pacing, his hands tucked casually into his pockets. “But, you know, you’re kind of fun to mess with.”

You groaned, running a hand through your hair. “Why me, though? There are literally dozens of other people you could annoy.”

“True,” he said, tilting his head as if he were considering it. “But they’re boring. You’re… different.”

“Different how?” you demanded, narrowing your eyes at him.

He stopped in front of you, leaning slightly to meet your gaze. “I haven’t figured that out yet,” he said, his voice soft but still laced with that infuriating teasing edge. “But I will.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but he stepped back, cutting you off before you could speak.

“Anyway,” he said casually, stretching his arms over his head, “don’t let me stop you from enjoying your little walk.”

He turned to leave, but just as he passed by, he glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. “Try not to miss me too much.”

Your jaw dropped, and before you could stop yourself, you blurted out, “Miss you? I—”

But Ni-ki was already walking away, his soft laughter trailing behind him as he disappeared into the trees.

You stood there, fists clenched at your sides, your face burning with frustration. “Unbelievable,” you muttered under your breath, walking away while muttering a string of complaints that only the trees around you could hear. “Unbelievable. Who does he think he is? ‘Try not to miss me too much.’ Ugh, I’ll show him who’s missing who.” You kicked at a stray rock on the path, watching it skitter off into the grass.

Your footsteps were heavier now, fueled by frustration, and your face was still hot from the way Ni-ki had managed to get under your skin again. It wasn’t just his teasing; it was how effortlessly he seemed to read you, like he knew exactly which buttons to press to rile you up.

“Stupid smirk. Stupid comments. Stupid Ni-ki,” you mumbled, rolling your eyes. You were so caught up in your thoughts that you didn’t realize you were stomping deeper into the forest until the sound of laughter and chatter from camp faded into the distance.

You stopped, taking a deep breath to calm yourself. The forest around you was quiet and peaceful, the sunlight filtering softly through the trees. It was supposed to help, but instead, your mind kept replaying the look on his face—the way his smirk seemed permanently etched there, like he knew he’d won whatever game he thought you were playing.

You let out a frustrated groan and plopped down on a mossy rock. “Why does he even care?” you muttered, staring at the ground. “Why can’t he just leave me alone?”

The forest offered no answers, just the distant rustle of leaves in the breeze. You stayed there for a moment, trying to push thoughts of Ni-ki out of your head. But of course, it was easier said than done.

After a while, you sighed and stood up, brushing the dirt off your clothes. “Fine. Whatever. Let him play his little games,” you said, mostly to yourself. “I’ve got better things to do than worry about him.”

With that, you turned back toward camp, determined to focus on literally anything other than Ni-ki. But as you walked, you couldn’t help but feel like this wasn’t the last time he’d find a way to cross your path—and your thoughts.

And you stuck to your decision. You ignored Ni-ki completely, refusing to give him even a shred of your attention. No glances, no responses, no reactions. If he was leaning against a tree in your line of sight, you’d look the other way. If he passed by during training, you’d keep your eyes locked on your target. If he tried to make one of his smug comments, you’d act like he wasn’t even there.

It wasn’t easy—he had a way of commanding attention whether you wanted to give it to him or not—but you were determined to win this silent battle.

But of course, Ni-ki figured out your plan quickly.

And now? Now he seemed more determined than ever to get under your skin.

“Awfully quiet today, aren’t you?” he’d say as he casually strolled by during your sword training, his voice laced with amusement.

You’d grit your teeth and keep practicing, ignoring him completely.

“Oh, come on, are we doing the whole ‘silent treatment’ thing now?” he teased another time, walking alongside you as you headed to the dining pavilion.

You didn’t even glance at him, speeding up your steps instead. He just chuckled, easily matching your pace.

And the more you ignored him, the harder he tried.

He’d pop up in the middle of your archery sessions, leaning casually against a tree just within your peripheral vision. He never said anything, just stood there with that maddening smirk, watching you until you missed a shot.

“Looks like you’re distracted,” he’d comment, his tone smug.

Still, you wouldn’t take the bait.

But Ni-ki didn’t give up.

One afternoon, during a strategy session with your cabinmates, you were deep in thought, discussing battle plans with Sophia when you heard a familiar voice behind you.

“I bet I could come up with something better,” Ni-ki said casually.

You tensed but kept your eyes on the map in front of you.

Sophia glanced between the two of you, her brows raised. “Uh… should we be concerned about this?”

“No,” you replied firmly, not even turning around.

Ni-ki leaned closer, his presence annoyingly obvious even though you refused to look at him. “Really? You’re just going to ignore me like that?”

“Yes,” you snapped before you could stop yourself.

Damn it.

Ni-ki straightened up, a victorious grin spreading across his face. “Ah, there you are. I was starting to think I’d lost my touch.”

You glared at him now, your resolve cracking. “What do you want, Ni-ki?”

He shrugged, his grin never fading. “Nothing, really. Just nice to know you’re still paying attention.”

You groaned and turned back to the map, pointedly ignoring his laughter as he walked away.

From the moment Ni-ki first laid eyes on you, something inside him shifted—something he didn’t recognize, didn’t fully understand, but couldn’t ignore. You were standing there, looking so out of place in your awkwardness, clutching a sword and shield like you had no idea what to do with them. You didn’t seem particularly strong, or fast, or even confident. And yet, he couldn’t stop staring.

It wasn’t just the way you looked—though that certainly didn’t hurt. There was something about your presence, something about the way you held yourself, even when you were nervous and uncertain. You didn’t cower, didn’t shrink away. You were stubborn in a way that amused and intrigued him.

Ni-ki had never believed in love at first sight. His father made it very clear that love—real love—was a dangerous thing, a distraction at best, a weakness at worst. But this? Whatever this was? It wasn’t weakness.

It was craving.

The kind of craving that gnawed at him, that made his chest tighten and his mind race. He wanted you, needed you, and it wasn’t just physical—though that was certainly part of it. It was deeper than that, more consuming. He wanted to know you, to unravel every layer of who you were, to understand what made you tick.

And he wanted to own you.

Not in a controlling, possessive way (or maybe it was, a little), but in the way that he wanted you to think of him the same way he thought of you. He wanted to occupy your every thought, to haunt your dreams and distract you during the day.

The rational part of him—the part that listened to his father’s warnings and tried to follow the unspoken rules—knew he shouldn’t feel this way. It was dangerous. Relationships between demigods were complicated enough, and this? This felt like it had the potential to destroy him.

But Ni-ki didn’t care.

Screw his father’s advice. Screw the rules. He’d never cared much for them anyway. All that mattered was you.

At first, he tried to keep his distance, watching from afar as you stumbled your way through camp life. He thought he could resist it, thought he could just… observe. But that only made it worse. The more he saw you—the way you laughed with others, the determined furrow of your brow during training, the moments when you thought no one was looking and let your guard down—the more he wanted you.

No, not wanted. Needed.

So he started testing you. Little things, at first. A teasing comment here, a smirk there, just to see how you’d react. And when you fired back, when you glared at him with that spark of defiance in your eyes, it only made him want you more.

You didn’t shy away from him like others did. You didn’t try to impress him or avoid him. You stood your ground, even when you were clearly annoyed—or flustered.

That was when he knew he was done for.

Was it love? Infatuation? Obsession? Ni-ki didn’t know, and he didn’t care to figure it out. All he knew was that you consumed him, and no amount of time or distance seemed to lessen the pull you had on him.

He couldn’t help it. You were the challenge he couldn’t resist, the flame he couldn’t stop himself from chasing.

And one way or another, he was going to have you. Even if it meant burning himself in the process.

You hadn’t really delved much into Greek mythology before. Sure, you’d heard the basics—Zeus, Hera, Poseidon—but the details? The stories? All the little quirks and scandals of the gods? None of that had ever crossed your radar. But now, you decided it was better late than never.

So, you borrowed—or, well, stole—a few books from one of your half-sisters. She probably wouldn’t miss them for a while anyway. Clutching the worn leather covers to your chest, you found a quiet place by the water, a spot where the trees cast long shadows and the sound of the camp faded into the background.

Settling down on a smooth rock, you cracked open the first book, its pages yellowed and filled with ornate text. As you began reading, the stories unfolded like vivid dreams in your mind. The gods were… messy, to put it lightly. Petty, dramatic, and surprisingly human for beings who supposedly ruled the cosmos.

It was fascinating, though. Each page gave you a little more insight into the world you were now a part of—the powers at play, the legacy you carried. You lingered on the pages about Athena, your mother. The goddess of wisdom, strategy, and war.

You ran a finger over an illustration of her, dressed in shining armor, an owl perched on her shoulder. It was hard to believe you had any connection to her. She seemed so… perfect. So otherworldly. How could someone like that have a daughter like you?

Lost in thought, you barely noticed the sound of footsteps behind you until a shadow fell over the pages of your book.

"Stealing books now? You’re full of surprises," a familiar voice drawled.

You didn’t need to look up to know who it was.

“Ni-ki,” you sighed, your tone flat. “What do you want?”

He crouched beside you, his sword dangling lazily from his belt, an apple in his hand—again. He took a bite and chewed slowly, like he had all the time in the world.

“Just curious,” he said, tilting his head to look at the book in your lap. “Ah, some light reading i see?”

You ignored him, turning the page and pretending to focus on the words in front of you. But you could feel his eyes on you, studying you like you were some kind of puzzle he was determined to solve.

After a moment of silence, he leaned closer, his shoulder brushing yours. “So, what are you reading about? Your mom?”

You gave him a sideways glance. “What’s it to you?”

He shrugged, taking another bite of his apple. “Just wondering if you’re finally starting to take this whole ‘demigod’ thing seriously.”

“I’ve always taken it seriously,” you shot back.

“Sure,” he said, his smirk widening. “That’s why you’re hiding out here instead of training.”

You snapped the book shut and turned to glare at him. “Do you ever get tired of bothering me?”

Ni-ki leaned back on his heels, his grin never fading. “Not really. You make it fun.”

You were about to turn and fire off a snarky comeback, something sharp to wipe that smug grin off his face, but the words got caught in your throat the moment you saw how close he was to you now.

When did he get so close?

Ni-ki had been leaning back a second ago, but now he was right there, barely a breath away. You could see the faint scar on his jawline, the sharp curve of his cheekbones, the way his dark eyes seemed to glint with something unreadable. It wasn’t just the physical proximity that unsettled you—it was the way he was looking at you, like you were the only thing that mattered in that moment.

Your body stiffened, unsure whether to step back or hold your ground, but your body refused to move. You told yourself it was irritation, frustration with his endless teasing, but deep down, you weren’t so sure.

“Cat got your tongue?” Ni-ki asked softly, his voice low and teasing, but it didn’t carry the same playful edge as before. His gaze flicked to your lips for the briefest of moments before meeting your eyes again, his expression unreadable.

You blinked, finally snapping out of whatever strange trance you’d fallen into. “What—what are you doing?” you managed to ask, though your voice came out quieter than you’d intended.

Ni-ki tilted his head slightly, the corner of his mouth curving into that maddening smirk. “Just wondering what it’d take to finally shut you up,” he murmured, his tone light but carrying an underlying intensity that made your stomach flip.

You opened your mouth to say something—anything—but the words died on your tongue when a voice interrupted from behind.

“Hey, uh… am I interrupting something?”

Both you and Ni-ki turned at the same time, and there stood Wonbin, looking between the two of you with a slightly raised eyebrow. His expression was casual enough, but there was a flicker of curiosity in his eyes as he took in the scene.

He didn’t linger on Ni-ki for long, though. His gaze settled on you, softening as he asked, “Do you want to grab something to eat? I was just heading to the pavilion, and, well… figured I’d ask if you wanted to come along.”

His voice held a hopeful edge, and you didn’t even hesitate.

“Yes!” you said, a little too quickly. You scrambled to your feet, brushing off the dirt and leaves. “Absolutely, I’m starving.”

Ni-ki raised an eyebrow, his smirk twitching as if he were trying to stifle a laugh. “Starving, huh?” he drawled, his tone dripping with amusement.

You shot him a glare but didn’t dignify him with a response. Instead, you walked over to Wonbin, grabbed his arm, and practically dragged him away before Ni-ki could say anything else.

“Let’s go,” you said, your voice a little sharper than intended as you pulled Wonbin toward the direction of the dining pavilion.

As you walked away, you could feel Ni-ki’s gaze burning into your back. You refused to look over your shoulder, but you didn’t have to. You could already picture the smug expression on his face, and it only made you grip Wonbin’s arm tighter.

Wonbin glanced down at you, a little surprised but clearly pleased. “Wow, I didn’t think you’d say yes that fast,” he said with a small chuckle. “Guess you were hungrier than I thought.”

You managed a smile, though your mind was still racing from the tension you’d just escaped. “Yeah, something like that,” you muttered, trying to shake off the lingering heat in your cheeks.

Wonbin didn’t press, simply walking beside you and chatting about something light—camp rumors, training schedules, the usual.

Ni-ki watched as you walked away, dragging Wonbin by the arm, your laughter drifting faintly on the breeze. It wasn’t loud or directed at him, but it still gnawed at him in a way that made his jaw clench.

Something primal and possessive stirred deep in his chest, demanding he act—run after you, grab your wrist, pull you away from Wonbin, from anyone, and keep you hidden where only he could reach you. The thought sent a dangerous thrill through him. He could do it. He had the power, the determination, the will.

But no. Not yet.

He leaned back against the tree, biting into the apple in his hand to mask the frustration clawing its way to the surface. His dark eyes stayed fixed on your retreating form, lingering on the way your head tilted toward Wonbin as if he deserved your attention, as if he could actually be worth something to you.

The thought was laughable.

Wonbin was nothing. Just another pretty face with a bow in hand. He didn’t know you—not the way Ni-ki did, not the way Ni-ki could. Wonbin didn’t see the sharp wit hidden behind your hesitance, the way your eyes lit up with determination when you put your mind to something, or the rare, fleeting smiles you gave when you thought no one was looking.

Ni-ki saw all of it. He memorized every moment, every word, every glance you spared him, even if it was in irritation. And the more he saw, the more he needed.

No, Wonbin couldn’t make you happy. Not the way Ni-ki could.

Ni-ki’s grip tightened on the apple, the fruit cracking under the pressure of his fingers. He’d go to the Underworld and back for you—literally, if it came to that. It was his realm, after all. His father may have warned him against becoming attached to others, especially demigods, but Ni-ki didn’t care. Whether it was love or infatuation didn’t matter. All he knew was that you belonged to him, and one day, you’d realize it too.

You just needed… a little push.

Ni-ki’s lips curved into a slow, dark smile as he took another bite of the apple, his gaze never leaving the direction you’d gone.

He could wait. He was patient, after all.

But he’d make sure you saw it soon enough. That he was better than any other guy in camp, better than Wonbin, better than anyone who thought they could have a place in your life.

And when that moment came, when you finally saw him for what he truly was—yours—there wouldn’t be anything or anyone that could take you away from him.

Ni-ki stayed by the tree long after you disappeared from view, his fingers idly turning the half-eaten apple over in his hand. His mind raced with thoughts of you, each one tightening the knot of desire and obsession in his chest.

He could picture it so clearly—the moment when you’d finally stop running from him, stop looking at him like he was some bothersome shadow in your life. One day, you’d see him as he saw you. One day, you’d understand that no one else could ever care for you, protect you, love you the way he could.

He exhaled slowly, forcing himself to relax. There was no need to rush. The more you resisted him now, the more satisfying it would be when you eventually gave in.

Ni-ki tilted his head to the side, his dark eyes glinting with quiet determination. He knew what he needed to do.

First, he’d let you play your little game—ignoring him, giving your attention to others like Wonbin. It was amusing in its own way, watching you try to distance yourself from him, as if that would somehow change the pull between you.

Then, when the time was right, he’d push. Not too hard, not enough to scare you, but just enough to remind you who was really worth your time.

And finally? He’d make sure you understood that he wasn’t going anywhere.

It wasn’t just about winning you over. It was about showing you what you were missing—what life with him could be like. He’d keep you safe from everything and everyone that didn’t deserve you, even if that meant disobeying his father to ensure it.

Ni-ki straightened up, tossing the apple core to the ground as a small smirk tugged at his lips.

This wasn’t just about patience anymore. This was about strategy—something his own father had taught him well.

“Enjoy your little moments with Wonbin,” he murmured under his breath, the faintest trace of amusement lacing his voice. “It won’t matter in the end.”

With that, he turned and strode away from the tree, his mind already working on his next move.

You could try to ignore him. You could even try to hate him.

But it didn’t matter. Not to Ni-ki.

He’d seen the way your eyes lingered on him for a fraction too long when you thought he wasn’t paying attention. The way you always seemed to know exactly where he was, even when you claimed you didn’t care. You could tell yourself that you didn’t feel the pull between you, that his presence didn’t affect you, but Ni-ki knew better.

He always knew better.

He didn’t care how long it took, or how many distractions you tried to throw his way—Wonbin included. None of it mattered.

In the end, you’d come to him. You’d have to.

Because Ni-ki wasn’t the kind of person to lose, especially not when it came to something he wanted.

And he wanted you.

You were doomed—completely and utterly doomed—from the moment you were born. Your life would’ve been so much easier if your father had just fallen for a regular mortal instead of a literal Greek goddess. You could’ve gone through life oblivious to this whole other world of gods, monsters, and irritatingly attractive demigods. But no. Instead, he had to send you here, to this camp.

And because of that, you got to know Ni-ki.

You tried sticking by Wonbin. He was fun, charming, and easy to be around. He didn’t make your blood boil with irritation or tie your thoughts into knots that you couldn’t untangle, and you appreciated that. You told yourself that staying close to him was the best way to avoid the storm that was Ni-ki.

But it was no use.

No matter where you went, no matter what you did, Ni-ki was always there, lingering on the edges of your mind if not right in front of you. He wasn’t like Wonbin—he didn’t make small talk or try to keep the peace. Ni-ki thrived on chaos, on teasing you, testing you, pushing every button you had until you didn’t know whether you wanted to yell at him or… something else.

It was maddening, frustrating, exhausting.

You caught yourself looking for him more often than you cared to admit, your eyes darting around camp during training sessions or meals. Even when he wasn’t near, you could feel the weight of his presence, like a shadow always lurking just behind you. And when you did see him? The infuriating smirk on his face made your heart race in a way that left you cursing under your breath.

You sighed as you sat by the campfire that evening, staring into the flickering flames. Wonbin was beside you, laughing and chatting with a group of other campers, but his voice faded into the background. Your thoughts were elsewhere—on the dark-haired boy who had somehow managed to weave himself into every corner of your life without your permission.

“Why do you look like you’re plotting murder?” Wonbin asked suddenly, breaking you out of your thoughts.

You blinked, turning to look at him. “Huh?”

“You’re glaring at the fire like it insulted your family or something,” he teased, nudging your shoulder.

You forced a laugh, shaking your head. “It’s nothing. Just thinking.”

He raised an eyebrow but didn’t push further, thankfully.

Still, your mind refused to settle. You were doomed, all right. Doomed because no matter how hard you tried to ignore Ni-ki, some part of you always ended up being pulled back to him. Like gravity.

And the worst part?

A small, treacherous voice in the back of your mind whispered that maybe you didn’t want to fight it as much as you pretended to.

In fact, it was growing louder with every interaction, every smirk, every time Ni-ki’s dark eyes locked with yours like he could see straight through you. It was infuriating. It was maddening. But it was also… impossible to ignore.

You tried to shake it off, focusing on anything else—Wonbin’s jokes, the camp’s bustling energy, even the endless stream of chores and training drills. But none of it worked. No matter what you did, Ni-ki was there, lingering at the edge of your thoughts like a shadow you couldn’t escape.

You hated it. You hated how much space he took up in your head, how his teasing smirk and smooth voice haunted you even when he wasn’t around.

But what you hated most of all?

The way your heart raced when he was around.

You let out a frustrated sigh, leaning back against the log by the campfire. The flames danced in front of you, but their warmth didn’t do much to ease the chill of confusion and frustration that settled in your chest.

You stood up abruptly, brushing the dirt off your hands. “I’m going to bed,” you mumbled, not really looking at anyone.

Wonbin glanced at you, concerned, but he didn’t say anything as you turned and headed toward the Athena cabin. The night air was cool against your skin, a sharp contrast to the warmth of the fire. You welcomed it, hoping it might clear your head.

When you pushed open the door to the cabin, you were surprised to find it empty. Normally, your half-sisters were gathered around, quietly reading.

You didn’t think too much about it as you made your way to your bed. Sitting down heavily, you groaned, letting your body relax for the first time all day. The mattress creaked under your weight, and you leaned back, staring up at the wooden ceiling.

Your mind, of course, wouldn’t quiet.

Ni-ki’s face flashed in your thoughts—his smirk, his sharp gaze, the way he always seemed so calm and in control, as if he knew exactly how to get under your skin. You groaned again, pressing the heels of your palms against your eyes in frustration.

“What is wrong with me?” you muttered to yourself.

This wasn’t like you. You didn’t let people get to you like this, especially not guys like Ni-ki. He was aggravating, arrogant, and far too sure of himself.

And yet.

Your thoughts drifted back to the moments when his teasing tone softened just slightly, or the way his presence seemed to shift when it was just the two of you. It made your chest tighten in a way you didn’t want to admit.

You sat up abruptly, shaking your head as if that would somehow shake the thoughts loose. “No,” you said firmly, as if declaring it out loud would make it true. “I’m not doing this.”

The next day, you were in the middle of a match, your shield raised and your sword slicing through the air as you managed to disarm your opponent with a clean move. Breathing heavily, you stepped back and lowered your weapon, a small grin tugging at your lips.

Straightening up, you turned to face the group. “Alright,” you said, brushing a hand across your brow. “Who’s next?”

The crowd shifted slightly, and then you saw him.

Ni-ki, standing at the edge of the group, his hand raised lazily as that infuriating smirk spread across his face.

Your stomach sank.

“Me,” he said simply, stepping forward with a casual confidence that made you grit your teeth.

He unsheathed his sword, the metal glinting in the sunlight as he spun it once in his hand, almost lazily. “Don’t look so excited to see me,” he teased, his voice low and taunting.

You groaned audibly, earning a few chuckles from the others watching. “Of course it’s you,” you muttered under your breath, gripping your sword tightly.

Ni-ki’s grin widened as he stopped a few feet in front of you, his posture relaxed, but his eyes sharp. “Ready to show me what you’ve got?”

“Don’t you have anyone else to fight?” you shot back, raising your shield and positioning your sword defensively.

He tilted his head, pretending to think. “Nope,” he said with mock cheerfulness. “You’re my favorite target.”

You rolled your eyes, but before you could fire off another retort, Ni-ki lunged. His sword came down fast, and you barely managed to block it with your shield. The force of the blow made your arm ache, but you quickly recovered, stepping to the side and swinging your sword toward him.

Ni-ki parried with ease, his movements fluid and almost effortless. “Not bad,” he said, circling you slowly. “You’ve been practicing.”

“Shut up and fight,” you snapped, aiming a quick thrust toward his side.

He dodged it easily, his smirk never faltering. “Feisty,” he teased, blocking your next strike with his sword. “I like it.”

You groaned in frustration, your swings becoming more aggressive as Ni-ki continued to block and dodge with maddening ease. He wasn’t even trying to land a hit yet—just toying with you, testing you, like a cat playing with its prey.

“Stop holding back!” you shouted, lunging forward with all your strength.

Ni-ki’s eyes flashed, and for a split second, his smirk turned into something more serious. He sidestepped your attack and, with a quick flick of his wrist, knocked your sword out of your hand.

Before you could react, he stepped closer, the tip of his blade resting lightly against your collarbone.

“Looks like I win,” he said softly, his voice low enough that only you could hear. His eyes locked with yours, and for a moment, the world around you seemed to fade away.

Your heart pounded, but whether it was from the fight or the way Ni-ki was looking at you, you couldn’t tell.

“Maybe next time,” he added, stepping back and lowering his sword.

You glared at him, your cheeks burning with a mix of frustration and something you didn’t want to name. “Don’t get used to it,” you muttered, bending down to pick up your weapon.

Ni-ki just chuckled, spinning his sword once before sheathing it. “I’m counting on it.”

The day had been long, exhausting even, but despite the ache in your muscles and the overwhelming need for rest, sleep refused to come. You lay in bed, staring at the wooden ceiling of the Athena cabin, your mind swirling with thoughts you couldn’t seem to shut off.

The cabin was quiet, the soft snores of your half-sisters filling the space. You should’ve felt comforted by the familiar surroundings, but instead, you felt restless. Like there was something pulling at you, demanding your attention.

With a frustrated sigh, you sat up, swinging your legs over the side of the bed. Maybe some fresh air would help clear your mind. You grabbed a light jacket and slipped out of the cabin as quietly as you could.

The camp was quieter now, most of the other demigods asleep, save for a few shadows moving by the campfire in the distance. You tugged your jacket closer around you and glanced up at the night sky.

The stars twinkled faintly above, scattered across the inky black canvas. You let out a soft sigh, your breath visible in the chill. “If you’re listening, Mom,” you murmured, tilting your head upward, “a little guidance would be nice right about now.”

Of course, there was no response. You didn’t expect one. Still, the act of asking felt oddly comforting, like maybe she was watching, even if she couldn’t answer.

You shook your head, trying to dispel the lingering frustration and confusion from your thoughts. Wandering through camp aimlessly wouldn’t help. You needed to do something. Anything.

Your gaze landed on the training grounds nearby. Rows of weapons were neatly arranged on the racks for the next day’s use, and your hand instinctively reached for a sword. It wasn’t the same one you had used earlier during training, but it felt good in your grip nonetheless.

Without a second thought, you made your way to a clearing a little farther from the cabins, away from prying eyes and the ever-present chatter of the other campers.

You adjusted your stance, gripping the sword tightly as you took a deep breath. Then you started practicing.

It was awkward at first—your swings too wide, your footing unsteady. But you didn’t stop. You moved through the motions you’d been taught, the echoes of Wonbin’s voice guiding you. The weight of the sword felt familiar in your hands now, and the repetition of each movement slowly began to calm your racing thoughts.

Slash. Step. Block. Pivot.

Each strike and parry chipped away at your frustration, leaving behind a faint sense of satisfaction. The rhythmic movements grounded you, a reminder that maybe, just maybe, you weren’t as out of place here as you felt.

The clearing was quiet except for the sound of your blade slicing through the air and the occasional rustle of leaves. The stars above seemed to glow a little brighter, as if approving of your effort.

But then, a soft sound broke through your focus—a quiet crunch of leaves behind you.

You froze mid-swing, your heart skipping a beat as you turned around sharply, sword raised defensively.

There, leaning casually against a tree, was Ni-ki. His dark eyes reflected the moonlight, and his ever-present smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

“Practicing alone?” he drawled, his voice low and teasing. “Didn’t think you’d be the type.”

You groaned, rolling your eyes as you turned back around. “Don’t you have something else to do?” you muttered, raising your sword to continue your practice.

The satisfying swoosh of the blade cutting through the air was short-lived, though, as another crunch of leaves sounded—closer this time.

You stiffened, the hairs on the back of your neck standing up. Slowly, you turned back around, only to find Ni-ki standing much, much closer than before.

Too close.

You instinctively stepped back, gripping the hilt of your sword tighter. “What are you doing?” you demanded, your voice sharper than you intended.

Ni-ki didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he unsheathed his sword in one smooth motion, the blade catching the faint glow of the moonlight.

Without a word, his sword clashed against yours, the force of it sending a jolt up your arm.

“Training,” he said simply, his voice calm and deliberate.

Your breaths came faster as you struggled to hold your ground. His strength was undeniable, and the weight of his blade pressed hard against yours.

“You could’ve warned me,” you bit out, gritting your teeth as you pushed back against him.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Ni-ki replied smoothly, tilting his head as he studied you.

You narrowed your eyes, trying to focus on his movements as he pulled back slightly before swinging again. You barely managed to block the strike, the clash of metal ringing loudly in the quiet night.

“Stop holding back,” he said, his voice low and almost taunting. “Or are you scared?”

“I’m not scared,” you snapped, stepping forward to swing at him, only for him to parry your attack effortlessly.

“Could’ve fooled me,” he teased, his smirk growing wider.

Your frustration bubbled over as you struck again, this time with more force. Ni-ki blocked it easily, but instead of countering, he let his sword linger against yours, his face mere inches from yours now.

“See?” he murmured, his tone soft but no less infuriating. “You’re getting better already.”

His closeness made your heart race, and you hated that you couldn’t tell if it was from irritation or something else entirely. You pushed his sword away with a sharp motion and stepped back, glaring at him.

“Why are you even doing this?” you demanded, lowering your sword slightly.

Ni-ki tilted his head, his smirk fading just a fraction. For a moment, you thought he might actually answer seriously.

But then his lips curved again, and he stepped forward, his blade tapping lightly against yours.

“Because,” he said, his voice dropping into a near-whisper as he leaned in closer, “I like seeing you fight back.”

That was it. That little smirk, the taunting lilt in his voice—it was enough to light a fire under you. If he wanted a fight, you weren’t going to back down.

“Fine,” you snapped, gripping your sword tighter as you took a step forward. “Let’s see if you can handle it.”

Ni-ki’s grin widened, his dark eyes gleaming with excitement. “That’s more like it.”

He struck first, his movements sharp and calculated, but this time you were ready. You blocked his attack and retaliated quickly, your blade swinging toward him in a controlled arc. He parried with ease, the metallic clang of your swords echoing through the clearing.

The fight intensified, your strikes becoming faster, more precise. Ni-ki moved like a shadow, fluid and unpredictable, but you weren’t as easy to throw off now.

“You’re learning,” he said, his voice steady even as he blocked another one of your attacks. “But you’re still predictable.”

“Shut up,” you shot back, using your shield to deflect his next swing and stepping closer to try and land a blow. He sidestepped easily, his laughter low and infuriating.

“That temper of yours is going to get you in trouble,” he teased, but there was something almost approving in his tone.

You didn’t bother replying this time, focusing instead on matching his movements. You swung again, your blade aimed for his side, and for the first time, you saw the faintest flicker of surprise in his eyes as he blocked you just a fraction too late.

Your sword glanced off his armor, the impact making him take a half-step back.

“Not bad,” Ni-ki admitted, his smirk returning as he circled you. “You’re starting to make this interesting.”

The praise caught you off guard, and you couldn’t help the slight swell of pride that followed. But you didn’t let it distract you.

“Better than you expected, huh?” you said, unable to resist the jab as you pivoted to keep him in your line of sight.

Ni-ki’s grin turned sharp. “Don’t get cocky.”

He lunged suddenly, his movements faster and more aggressive. You barely managed to block him, your arms straining as he pressed his weight against your blade.

For a moment, you were locked together, his face inches from yours. His dark eyes bore into you, filled with an intensity that made your breath hitch.

“You’re enjoying this,” he said softly, his voice teasing but laced with something deeper.

You didn’t deny it. Somehow, in the midst of the fight, you’d forgotten about your frustration, your doubts, even your irritation with him. All that mattered now was holding your ground against someone as skilled as Ni-ki.

“Maybe I am,” you admitted, a small smirk tugging at your lips.

Ni-ki blinked, momentarily caught off guard when your sudden, unexpected move knocked the sword clean out of his hand. The blade clattered to the ground a few feet away, and you straightened, your smirk growing wider as you stared at him triumphantly.

“Didn’t see that coming, did you?” you teased, the satisfaction in your voice clear.

For once, Ni-ki seemed genuinely surprised, his dark eyes flicking to the fallen sword before locking back onto you. “I’ll admit,” he said slowly, a hint of amusement coloring his tone, “that was clever.”

You were about to bask in your victory, perhaps even throw another jab his way, but before you could, Ni-ki’s leg swept out suddenly, catching you off guard.

Your balance gave way, and you stumbled backward, ready to hit the ground hard—except you didn’t.

In a flash, Ni-ki’s arm shot out, wrapping securely around your waist and pulling you back up against him. The world tilted for a moment, and when you opened your eyes, you realized how close you were.

Your noses brushed lightly, and his face was only inches from yours. His dark eyes bore into yours, filled with that maddening confidence and something else that made your breath hitch.

“You should never celebrate too early,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing.

Your mind scrambled to process what was happening. His arm was still wrapped firmly around your waist, his other hand pressed lightly against the small of your back. You could feel the warmth radiating off him, the way his chest rose and fell with each steady breath.

You should’ve said something—anything. A snarky comeback, maybe, or even a protest about his unfair tactics. But instead, all you could do was stare at him, your heart pounding so loud you were sure he could hear it.

Ni-ki tilted his head slightly, his smirk softening into something more curious. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice dropping to a whisper.

That snapped you out of it, and you quickly shoved at his chest. “Let go of me,” you muttered, trying to sound annoyed despite the heat rising to your cheeks.

He chuckled but released you, stepping back just enough to give you space. His hand lingered for the briefest second before he let it fall to his side.

“Nice move, though,” he said, his tone almost genuine—almost. “But you’ll have to do better if you want to beat me.”

You scowled at him, trying to regain some semblance of dignity. “I did beat you. I knocked your sword out of your hand!”

“And yet,” Ni-ki said, bending down to retrieve his sword and twirling it effortlessly, “I still had the upper hand.”

You clenched your jaw, watching him looking too pleased with himself. The smugness on his face only made your frustration burn brighter.

“I don’t know how you can be so damn confident when you just got outplayed,” you muttered, crossing your arms over your chest, trying to hide the fact that your heart was still racing.

Ni-ki chuckled, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “Outplayed, huh?” He took a step closer, still twirling his sword. “You’re getting better, I’ll give you that. But you’re not there yet.”

“You’re a cocky bastard, you know that?”

“I’m not cocky,” he said, the teasing tone never leaving his voice. “I’m just confident. And you’ll get used to it... if you’re smart.”

You raised an eyebrow, not backing down an inch. “Smart, huh?”

Ni-ki leaned in slightly, lowering his voice in a way that made your breath hitch again. “Yeah. Smart enough to realize that you’re not going to get rid of me that easily.”

“I never wanted to get rid of you,” you snapped, trying to regain your composure. “I just wanted to be left alone.”

Ni-ki took another step closer, and this time, you didn’t pull away. His presence was overwhelming—like he could consume you entirely if you let him. “You say that, but we both know that’s not true.” His lips curled into a smile as he tilted his head slightly. “You wouldn’t keep coming back to me if you didn’t want something.”

Your mouth went dry, and for a second, you forgot how to breathe. What was he getting at? Why was he suddenly so... intense? You didn’t know if it was the way he was looking at you or how close he was, but you felt something shift between you, something that made it harder to focus.

Before you could respond, Ni-ki backed away just enough to give you some space, but not before his gaze lingered on you with an unreadable expression. “You’ll figure it out eventually,” he said softly, almost like a challenge. “But for now, don’t forget—I'm always watching.”

He turned and walked off, leaving you standing there, breathless, a mix of anger and confusion swirling inside you. You opened your mouth to say something, but no words came out.

What the hell was that?

Over the next few days, something between you and Ni-ki shifted. It wasn’t immediately obvious, but it was there, lingering.

At first, it was subtle. A glance that lingered just a second too long, a playful comment that felt just a little more personal than it used to be. He still teased you, still pushed your buttons the way only he could, but there was a new layer to it. Every time he sparred with you, there was something in his eyes—something that made your heart beat faster, something that made you feel like he was seeing right through you.

It was hard to tell whether you were imagining it, but you felt it, that strange connection you couldn’t shake. It wasn’t just the usual back-and-forth banter, the constant friction. No, this time, there was something deeper. Something charged. You found yourself waiting for his gaze across the training grounds, your stomach tightening whenever he’d casually stroll past you, like he was waiting for you to say something, anything.

One afternoon, you found yourself in the training yard again, sword in hand, working through some drills. You were trying to focus, trying to shut everything else out, but there he was—Ni-ki, watching you from the edge of the field, leaning casually against a tree. You tried to ignore him, but every few seconds, your eyes would wander over to him, and you’d catch him staring right back.

Finally, he pushed off from the tree and walked over. “You know,” he said, his voice drawing your attention even before he was close enough to speak, “you’ve gotten better. I’m impressed.”

You narrowed your eyes, trying to keep your composure. “Don’t get used to it,” you shot back, though the words came out more lightly than you’d intended.

Ni-ki smirked, his usual arrogance taking over. “Oh, I’m not. But you’re not as bad as I thought you’d be.”

You felt the familiar spark of irritation flare up. “And here I thought you might actually give me a compliment.”

“You really want one from me?” he teased, his voice lowering just slightly. It was almost like a challenge, but there was something else in his tone—something that made you pause.

You crossed your arms, forcing yourself to act unaffected. “What’s it going to take for you to just leave me alone?”

He took a step closer, that teasing smile still tugging at his lips. “You know, I don’t think I can do that.”

You didn’t know why, but you found yourself holding his gaze longer than usual. You were still mad at him for everything, for the way he always seemed to be in your face when you least wanted him to be. But there was also a strange pull, a curiosity that gnawed at you. You didn’t want to admit it, but you were starting to care about the things he said, about the way he looked at you.

You cleared your throat, breaking the moment. “Don’t get too cocky, Ni-ki. I’m not interested.”

He chuckled softly, a knowing glint in his eyes. “Maybe you’re not. But I don’t think you can ignore me forever.”

You took a step back, your heart pounding as you tried to collect yourself, but Ni-ki’s presence was magnetic, pulling you in with an intensity you couldn't fight.

"You're not as good at pretending as you think," he said, his tone a challenge, but there was something softer in it this time.

You clenched your jaw, irritated with yourself for letting him get under your skin. "I'm not pretending," you snapped, your words sharper than you intended. "And I’m definitely not the one who’s making this complicated."

His lips curved into a smile, and he moved just a little bit closer, his gaze intense, unwavering. "You always make things more complicated than they need to be," he said, almost like a confession, like he was admitting something without saying it outright.

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat. What could you even say? What was there to say when everything between you and him felt so tangled?

Ni-ki took a step forward, not giving you a chance to speak. "I know you feel it too," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "You can’t keep pretending like you don’t want this."

Your breath hitched at his words, your chest tightening. You wanted to push him away, to tell him off like you always did, but this time, the thought didn’t come. Instead, you stood there, frozen, staring into his eyes, realizing that he was right. You couldn’t keep pretending, couldn’t keep pretending like it didn’t affect you, like his teasing and his relentless pursuit didn’t make something inside you stir.

A small, dangerous part of you wanted to give in, to let yourself feel whatever this was between you. But you couldn’t—could you? You weren’t sure what this was, what you were supposed to do with it.

Ni-ki took another step closer, and you found yourself backing up slightly, your heels hitting the soft earth beneath you. "You’re scared," he said, his voice softer now, like a quiet understanding. "But I won’t bite, not unless you want me to."

His words made your stomach twist, the light touch of a dare in his voice, a challenge you couldn’t quite ignore. You felt your pulse quicken, every nerve in your body alert, wanting to resist him, but at the same time, craving what he was offering, whatever that might be.

So why not act on it?

Your heart pounded in your chest as you acted on impulse, unable to resist the magnetic pull any longer. Before you could second-guess yourself, you reached up and grabbed his shirt, pulling him toward you. The suddenness of it caught him off guard, and for a split second, he froze, eyes wide in disbelief.

But then, almost as if a switch had been flipped, Ni-ki closed the distance between you, his hands finding your cheeks as he kissed you back. His lips were hungry, as if he had been waiting for this moment, and the intensity of his kiss made your head spin. You could feel the heat of his touch, the way his fingers slid through your hair, tugging you closer, as if trying to pull you into him.

Your mind was a blur, every thought drowned out by the sensation of him—his scent, the taste of his lips, the urgency that seemed to pulse between you both. It felt like something had shifted, like everything else had faded away, leaving only this moment, only him.

His hands were gentle but firm, holding your face as he deepened the kiss, his body pressing closer to yours.

When he finally pulled back, both of you were breathing heavily, the air between you thick with unspoken words. Ni-ki’s eyes were dark with something intense, something more than just the teasing that had always been there before. He stared at you for a moment, his fingers still lingering on your face as if he were trying to make sense of what had just happened.

“You…” He trailed off. “That’s one way to get my attention.”

You swallowed, your pulse still racing, but now with a new, more dangerous energy. “Maybe I just wanted to see if you’d actually kiss me back,” you whispered, a smile tugging at your lips despite yourself.

Ni-ki chuckled, like he was both impressed and thrilled.

"You’re dangerous," you murmured, the words slipping out before you could stop them, not sure if you meant him or the situation.

Ni-ki smirked, leaning even closer, his lips brushing against your ear. "And you love it," he whispered, his voice sending a ripple of heat through your entire body.

You didn’t deny it. In fact, you didn’t have to.

"I’m not sure this is a good idea," you admitted instead, but there was a part of you that wasn’t sure if you were still trying to convince yourself or him.

Ni-ki’s grin grew wider, and he traced his thumb across your lips, almost teasing. "Good ideas are overrated," he said, his tone playful. "Besides, I’ve never been one to shy away from a little chaos."

You pulled back slightly, your breath catching as you tried to regain some semblance of control. "Our parents wouldn’t like this," you said, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

Ni-ki's grin never faltered, and his eyes gleamed with mischief. "I never listened to my father," he said, the words casual, but you could hear the underlying truth in them. "And your mother? She has so many children to worry about. What’s one more mess to clean up?" He chuckled, the sound almost a challenge, as if daring you to argue with him.

Every logical thought you had was drowned out by his presence. You should have pulled away. You should have stopped this before it went any further.

But then Ni-ki was closer, so close that you could feel his breath on your skin, and all those thoughts faded into the background. You let him take that final step, let him kiss you again, as if the world outside didn’t exist.

His lips were urgent, almost demanding, and you found yourself responding, giving in to the pull.

He had won. There was no turning back now.

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celestiamour · 3 months ago

Text

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ where he finds home ]❜

ft. logan howlett x f! reader — xmen, marvel

╰₊✧ you and your daughter have managed to fall into a comfortable pattern of life with logan by your sides, but your ex shows up one night to stir up some trouble and the wolverine isn’t having any of it┊2.9k words; prt one, prt two (here), prt three (coming soon)

setting: deadpool & wolverine (2024) worst! logan contains: hurt/comfort? mostly fluff, ooc logan probably, single mother reader with an unspecified age but still younger than logan, this chapter is mostly in your perspective, asshole exes, rushed ending what, but love confessions & getting together isn’t that cute

➤ author's note: alright, part two of the single mom! reader & her daughter!! the amount of support i’ve had on this was overwhelming, so sorry that this chapter isn’t on par with the first one, hopefully the next one will be better!

ever since that night, logan found himself rarely going a single day without interacting with you or your daughter. he can’t explain the force that seems to pull him towards the two of you, but he can easily realize that the sheer magnitude of it overpowered the little voice in the back of his head spewing pessimistic comments about how this couldn’t possibly end well just like everything else in his life did. his little made-up rule not to get attached is thrown out the window every time he sees either of you, reminding him that one simply cannot fight against the impossible no matter how much of a hardened killing machine he used to be. how could he try to avoid these feelings when they seemed to fill the hole in his heart until it was bursting at the seams with affection as if it was as easy as the apple pie you sometimes baked to share?

besides, even if he tried to hide this rapidly growing fondness, it’s not like anyone would have let him: not when wade keeps on offering to babysit while you’re at work, not when your baby has picked up the habit of running up to him to ask for hugs or to be picked up, not when you’re a sight for sore eyes as you follow up in the evening in your formal attire and pearls to pick her up, and especially not when althea keeps asking you when you two are getting married with the claim that she doesn’t need sight to see the chemistry happening at the dinner table.

you’ll laugh and brush it off as the old lady watching too many romance films in her free time, but your cheeks are secretly burning in embarrassment at how literally everyone can tell that you’re crushing like a high schooler in your grown age except for the subject of your fancy.

logan himself is pretty difficult to read, but thankfully, his roommates are open-book, blunt to a fault, and willing to tell you anything and everything you need to know whether or not you even asked. for example, they confirmed he did indeed have a soft spot for you and your daughter, one that made them howl with laughter as they bully him relentlessly for it (feel free to tell them that they shouldn’t because he’s just being nice, they aren’t going to listen to you). he tries his best to refrain from swearing within earshot, not even under his breath on the off-chance she will hear it and pick it up. he fixes his appearance whenever he knows he’ll see you in an attempt to look more approachable. he never cares to listen to the ongoing conversations about other friends, but he’ll lean in a little closer if it’s about you. he even buys toys or stuffed animals on occasion because he thinks of her when he sees them.

you probably shouldn’t be thinking about these things during such a busy moment of your life when you’re focused on raising your daughter, getting that job promotion in the bag, and finally agreeing to take your ex to court for him to take responsibility by paying child support. although he’s as kind as a man who is as gruff and rugged as he can be, he’s still an older man (both chronologically and biologically) who is a mutant superhero with powers you were still unaware of. it’s not you questioning if he’s safe to be around, it’s you questioning if it’s in his best interest to have a family with all that going on (especially if he wanted to play father to a toddler who had no blood relation to him. playing uncle is one thing, but father? you can never be sure).

still, you would be lying if you said that seeing him being so tender and sweet with your daughter didn’t stir up a domestic image in your mind. a girl could only dream, right?

recently, he’s been showing up at your doorstep with a toolbox in hand every other day. you’ve been complaining lately about how nothing under your roof seems to work anymore and every time you inform the landlord, you get a half-assed job that falls apart within the span of a week: the pipes are leaking, the windows refuse to open, the gas stove won’t start, and there are also other things you never got around to fixing yourself like a wobbly desk or putting together a little bed for your baby since she’s outgrown her crib.

the conversations usually go a little something like:

“oh, you really don’t need to—”

“no, no, i insist— it’s not like i have anything better to do, and i’ll do a much better job than whatever the fuck those maintenance men have been doing anyways.” he’ll purse his lips at the unintentional curse word which slipped and then push past you. “anyway, which windows have been giving you trouble?”

it takes him an hour maximum to work his magic, always leaving behind something fully functional and stable enough to last for years. you’ll compliment his handy skills and try to push a wad of cash into his hands, but he refuses it every single time. you can’t match his stubborn personality for more than a few minutes, so you’ll sigh and offer him to stay for dinner instead because you refuse to let him go home empty-handed after helping you out so generously.

while you’re busy rummaging through your pantry and fridge for ingredients to cook something of varying degrees of complexity each time, your daughter will make an appearance to keep logan occupied because you refuse to allow anyone to enter your kitchen ever since that incident with wade. yes, he is more careful and mature, no, you’re not taking any chances.

tonight, she’s playing forcing him to play with an assortment of dolls. he’s never done this before, and it looks so awkward to see a grown-ass six-foot-two man holding a little blonde barbie limply in his hand without any idea what the setting is or the storyline or the characters supposed to be played, but your girl was smiling and cheerfully babbling something barely legible every time he played along so he wasn’t about to complain about it.

you hummed a tune while slicing thin slices of beef, completely on autopilot and enjoying the night of peace. the doorbell suddenly rang throughout your apartment and you rushed to wash off your hands before wiping them off with a dishrag, assuming it was one of his roommates. who else could the unannounced visitor be at eight-thirty in the evening?

the smile on your face immediately dropped when you saw the unusually unkempt appearance of your ex-fiancé, reeking of booze with his hair sticking out a little past his ears and rough stubble lining his jaw. before you could even say something, he rudely pushed past you and stood in the center of the unfamiliar space. maybe it was for the best since he definitely would have caused a massive commotion in the hallway and disturbed the neighbors who didn’t need to be subjected to your personal issues. your daughter had fallen silent and stared at him in a mix of confusion and something else that was unreadable yet clearly not joyous in any way.

the entire world seemed to stop for a moment as you held your breath in anticipation of his next move, wondering if he was going to be amiable or (more likely) stir some trouble to disturb the peace. your eyes met with logan’s and you shifted your gaze to the hallway entrance for a split second to signal him to bring your daughter into her bedroom, sparing her the scare that would come when her father would inevitably lash out.

he understood immediately and picked her up in a single swift motion, “come on, bub, it’s time to go to bed.” his hand rested her head on his shoulder and she appeared to be okay, just wide-eyed with her thumb in her mouth, almost as if she could recognize the gravity of the situation despite barely being able to comprehend such things.

“it’s only been a few months, and you’re already living with another man…:

“it’s actually almost been a year, but what are you even doing here? i thought you had a wedding to plan.”

“... wedding’s been canceled…”

“aw, really?” you could already tell where this was going. althea told you plenty of times that once he saw how much better you were doing without him while his life quickly tumbles down a slope, he would come crawling back. she made you promise on your life that you wouldn’t take him back no matter what, whether he begged on his knees promising he’ll be better or revealed he was the new ceo of amazon with riches beyond your imagination. you didn’t quite understand her concerns because the thought of it never crossed your mind once, but she just tutted and reminded you that love was unpredictable before revoking her statement when she remembered you wouldn’t get back together with your ex when the wolverine was on the table.

“she was seeing someone else…”

“well, well, well, you know what they say, ‘karma’s a bitch.’ it’s about time you got a taste of your own medicine, you cheating bastard.”

he took a step towards you and you flinched in response, making the other man standing in the shadows straighten his posture. he was never physically abusive, but you had no idea how he would behave under the influence. “you know she was the reason everything fell apart…”

“oh, don’t try to pin the blame on her when you were the one who was about to get married and you were the one who made the choice to abandon her family. good on her for leaving, and you should do the same.”

“do you ever think there would be anyone who would love you like i did? i was your first, and there isn’t anyone else who would take you as is. hell, i don’t even think the other guy will be around for much longer—”

“alright, i’ve had enough of this.” logan came forward from his spot in the shadows, getting closer to your ex until he was clearly intimidated by his looming figure and threatening aura. it’s the first time you’ve seen such a dangerous edge to him, yet strangely enough, you still felt safe knowing he was acting in your defense (if it was any other man, you probably would have kicked them both out before it could escalate). “get out of here.”

“can’t believe this,” he spat, turning his head to look back at you, “you bitch—”

he grunted at the insult, feeling more pissed off about it being directed at you rather than him, promptly throwing a punch into his face and gripping onto his collar before he could stumble over. an unfamiliar *schlikt* sound was heard before your eyes managed to process the long metal claws mere inches away from gouging out your ex’s eyes, making you gasp quietly in shock.

“okay! okay! i’m leaving!��

“i’ll escort you out,” he growled, still not letting go of him as he shoved him out of the door and closed it behind him, wanting to make sure that he would never come to bother you like this ever again and also drag him to apartment security to ensure they understood not to let him in ever again.

then once he was gone, logan stood outside in the slight cold for a moment wondering what to do next. he just revealed his true nature to you that he’s been trying so hard to suppress: violent and animalistic. he should just prepare to hear you say that you are now scared of him, that you would prefer it if he didn’t come over anymore and to stay away from you and your daughter.

the worst part is that he can’t even blame you, and a part of him feels like this was for the best. he was stupid to hope for a peaceful domestic with two human civilians when he was a mutant through and through. still, his heart drops at the thought of your eyes looking at him with fear rather than the usual caring, gentle look that made him forget all of his pain.

there was more impending doom weighing on him as he stalked up the stairs than there ever was for certain death missions.

his hyper-sensitive hearing easily picked up the sound of a baby crying, one that he immediately recognized as your daughter’s. he slowed his pace to hear you trying desperately to calm her down.

“oh, oh, shh, i know, i know,” you sighed, “god, logan, please hurry back…” he practically ran when he heard that, bursting through the door and rushing into the nursery which was in the process of being turned into a proper bedroom. there were slight tears pricking at your eyes when you looked at him, “sorry, can you put her to sleep? s-she won’t stop crying…”

“it’s okay, it’s okay, i got it,” he assured, taking her off your hands and soothingly patting her on the back, “please stop crying, you’re breaking your momma’s heart.”

after a minute or so, her high-pitched wails gradually quieted down, falling asleep in his strong arms and allowing him to place her in her little bed which was newly constructed by him just a few days ago. you led him out of the room, being careful not to make any sudden noises so as to not wake her again, and returned to the living room where it all started.

“i’m sorry you had to do all that,” you groaned, placing a palm on your forehead in a poor attempt to ease the forming headache. “i really don’t know what i would have done without you…”

“don’t apologize, i’m happy to help… but i completely understand if you don’t want to see me ever again…” he wasn’t sure why he brought it up when you didn’t even say anything about it, but perhaps he wanted to get the inevitable over with because this conversation would have happened sooner or later.

“what? why would i never want to see you again when you just saved me from my ex?” you asked, genuinely confused as you moved to pour out two glasses of wine and plopped down onto the couch with your head thrown back. “is it because of the claws? i don’t really care about that stuff— i mean wade runs around with at least one knife and gun on him at all times. besides, it’s not like you can’t control them, they only came out because you were trying to protect me…”

“well, yes, but—”

“logan, i really don’t care that you’re a mutant or a former killer or whatever— you’re a superhero who runs around in yellow spandex, fights evil, and is the only one who can get my daughter to sleep most of the time— i trust you.”

“... you do?”

“of course, i do,” you reach out and motion him to join you, leaning against his frame and feeling all of your stress dissipate at the contact. “i trust you with my life and you’ll always have a home here, i want you to know that..”

logan was silent for a moment, trying to remember the last time he heard words along those lines. “i don’t know if you mean that…”

“of course, i do, why wouldn’t i? although…”

“although?”

“i… i don’t think i could handle being just friends for much longer.” you cringed at your own words, sounding like a fucking teenager who was confessing to her first love. something straight out of a cheesy romance movie, or as deadpool would say, straight out of a fanfiction written by a lonely teenager who is trying to move the plot along and finish up. “god, that was so stupid—”

“well, no one said we had to be ‘just friends.’”

you looked at him ludicrously, “really? do you mean that?”

“i mean… if you’re okay with an old man who has adamantium claws in his knuckles…”

“are you okay with a lady who’s a single mom?”

“i think mine is a lot worse than that. sweetheart,” he chuckled, returning to the light-hearted tone. “so… does that mean i can kiss you?”

you hummed, “of course, you can.”

even with your spoken consent, he still seemed a little hesitant when his hand found its way to the back of your head and he stared deeply into your eyes. his gaze was honestly a bit overwhelming since you’ve never seen anyone else look at you that way before, making you wonder if this was how to felt to be truly desired as a person.

you leaned forward to finish the kiss for him, a quick peck at first, then a deeper one that carried all of the bottled-up feelings from the previous few months. it wasn’t anything too crazy, yet it felt like your very first kiss all over again, clumsy and inexperienced. when you finally separated from him, you pressed your nose against his and giggled, “spend the night?”

“i thought you would never ask.”

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buckevantommy · 3 months ago

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What about all of this is real? We are.

This is not how they end.

It hasn’t even been a week but it feels like a fucking eternity. It’s not the first time Buck’s been dumped, not the first time someone has walked out on him when he wanted more, but it’s the worst heartache he’s ever felt and he knows– he knows it’s because this isn’t how things are supposed to go for them.

He’s done feeling sorry for himself. He’s not giving up on Tommy, on what they have together.

And he doesn’t think Tommy is done with them, either.

The drive to Tommy’s house isn’t fast but it passes in a blur; between the peak hour traffic and usual gridlock he has plenty of time to ruminate on everything he wants to say, and all the arguments Tommy can throw at him and all the ways Buck can rebut them.

Pulling into the drive, he doesn’t notice the unfamiliar car parked next to Tommy’s truck. He’s walking up the front path and knocking with insistent force before he even registers leaving the jeep. He’s on a mission.

Soon as the door opens Buck is barging his way inside. “You don’t get to decide what’s best for me or how I feel!”

With a resigned, if somewhat bitchy sigh, Tommy mutters, “Come on in,” and closes the door behind him.

“I know how I feel about you and it isn’t some passing infatuation, Tommy– I love you!” He goes harder than he means to, and heavier on the blame, but he thinks he gets the main points across.

Tommy stares at him for a moment, not saying anything. Buck starts getting restless again. If Tommy has nothing to say to that then Buck has plenty more. He gears up to lay the rest of his cards on the table–

When someone clears their throat behind him.

Buck whips around to find a strange man standing in Tommy’s living room, beer bottle in hand.

“Oh.” A pang of something ugly lances through Buck’s heart. “Guess you moved on faster than I did,” he mutters darkly.

The mystery man cracks a humorless laugh. “Not fucking likely.”

Buck doesn’t know what to do with that.

“Sal Deluca,” the man says, stepping forward and extending his hand. Buck takes it, incandescent jealousy and the throbbing heartache that’s made breathing difficult all week making way for a numb sort of recognition. He’s heard mentions of Sal, and the face clicks with some old photos he’s seen in Tommy’s photo albums; because Tommy’s old school like that and has printed photos in physical albums people can flip through. Sal is an old friend of his who moved away years ago. “Worked with this lug back at the 118,” he says. “And we are not boning or romancin’ each other.”

Buck catches Tommy rolling his eyes.

“In fact, I’m in town for the first time in almost a year and what do I find? This idiot throwing away the best thing that’s ever happened to him.”

“Sal.”

Sal ignores Tommy’s warning tone, trains his eyes on Buck, his voice pitched low and sincere. “I don’t even know you, but I know that much.”

He leaves with a clap to Tommy’s shoulder and something muttered that sounds like, “Don’t screw this up again,” and then he’s out the door.

“You should go,” Tommy says quietly, when it’s just the two of them standing there, too far apart.

Now that Buck gets a better look at him, Tommy looks tired. Ragged. Like he hasn’t slept in a week. Buck can relate. “No.”

“Buck–”

“Don’t you dare.” He tries sounding fierce but it just comes out broken. He’s never been ‘Buck’ to Tommy and he sure as hell doesn’t wanna start now. That name means they’re over, and he’s not letting that happen without a fight. “I said, I love you.”

“I heard you.”

“And, what? You don’t believe me? Or you think I’m too dumb to know when I’m in love with someone?”

“I never said that–”

“I’ve been in love before, Tommy– more than once. And just because they were women and you’re the first guy I fell for doesn’t make what I feel any less real!”

“But it doesn’t mean it’s going to last.”

He sounds tired, too. Like maybe he’s been up all night every night thinking about them. Maybe he leaned on Sal like Buck’s been leaning on Eddie; a good friend who lets you pour your heart out until there’s nothing left but a hollow ache in your chest, drained eyes and confusion.

But the worst part is how resigned he seems, like it’s over and there’s nothing to be done about it. There’s a lot Tommy hasn’t thought through properly.

“I may be new to being bisexual, but that doesn’t mean my heart is new. And frankly, it’s pretty insulting of you to assume I don’t know what I’m feeling, or how I’ll feel months or years from now.”

That seems to land like a blow, Tommy’s already creased brow pinching as he looks away. “You don’t have experience with men–”

And that fucking does it. “I’m not a kid, Tommy! I don’t need you to tell me what I need! And I’m not any of those guys who hurt you– doesn’t matter if they were gay, or bi, or whatever!” Buck wants to yell at him some more: call him a coward, an asshole for predicting the worst in people.

Tommy shakes his head. He still doesn’t look at Buck.

“You don’t get to just end this because you’re scared. That’s not how this works– we’re supposed to talk about it.” It’s been a constant in their relationship: talking things through. It’s the first relationship Buck’s had with such an open and honest line of communication, and there’s no way he could go back to anything else.

Tommy looks up, then, and meets Buck’s gaze. His eyes are watery and his words come out choked. “I don’t want to end this.”

“Then don’t,” Buck pleads, daring to close a bit of the distance between them.

Tommy pulls back. Not far, and not much with his feet, more with his shoulders, but it’s enough to make Buck’s heart sink.

Because Tommy is denying himself – like that night before he first kissed Buck and changed his life for the better; he was so hesitant to believe that he was part of their team, too – he’s not letting himself have something good because he doesn’t think he deserves it, doesn’t think it’s real. “We’re not too good to be true.”

“What?”

“You said that, about the parking space,” Buck recalls. He’s run the conversation over in his head a thousand times since that night.

“That’s.. not what I meant.” Tommy seems less convinced by his own words, now.

“Every other relationship I’ve had has fallen apart because I didn’t see the end coming,” Buck admits. “Because we weren’t compatible. And part of me was worried with you, at first, because I’d always been the one who ends up alone.” It’s painful to think about, to think Tommy could be just another in a long line of people Buck wore his heart on his sleeve for but who didn’t want him as much in return. “But you kept proving to me over, and over that you were there for me, and you wanted me around, and you didn’t think I was too much.” Buck has to swallow around the desperate rasp coming through in his voice now. He blinks to keep his vision clear.

There’s something there, then: a look on Tommy’s face telling him plainly that he could never be too much for him, that that’s not what this about. And there’s something else familiar, too: fear. The same glimpse of fear Buck saw that night before Tommy walked out on him. The same kind of fear Buck’s seen in the mirror his whole life.

Tommy’s afraid they won’t last.

Tommy’s afraid he’s not enough.

“Please don’t think like that,” Buck pleads again. “Like there’s an expiration date for us.”

“I can’t help it.”

“Yes, you can!” Buck erupts again, frustrated with how willing Tommy is to just roll over and let their relationship die. “Just believe in us! Tell me what I have to do to get you to believe how serious I am about you– how much I care about you, and see you for who you are, and want all of you for as long as possible.”

Tommy shakes his head, eyes downcast, and Buck can’t take it anymore– he closes the remaining distance between them. Stands toe to toe with Tommy, proximity alone silently demanding he listen to what he has to say.

“Hey,” he says softly, but with that same dogged determination that’s been distilled over the years into something less reckless and more mindful. He curls a finger under Tommy’s chin, gently nudging it up until he looks at him.

There’s armor in place, but Tommy’s peeking through. And he hasn’t moved away. He hasn’t given up, not completely. He needs Buck to fight for them, to know they’re worth fighting for. Maybe then he’ll finally believe they can make it.

“I love you. I’ve been searching my whole life for a love like this, so don’t tell me this isn’t real– I know how I feel,” Buck insists, then calms. “And I think you feel the same.”

“Evan–”

“I’m not giving up on us. So you can fight me, or you can fight for us.”

Tommy exhales a shaky breath, averting his eyes again. Buck can see the tears making them wet, tracking down his cheeks as he ducks his head. He can hear them in the way Tommy’s voice wavers. “You think too highly of me, kid.” It’s not a jab, the name. Tommy’s protecting his vulnerable underbelly.

“Do you trust me?”

Tommy takes a beat. “I want to,” he confesses, quiet in the small space where their bodies don’t touch, could touch but not yet; he’s holding his breath.

Buck braces himself. “Do you love me?” It’s a simple question, one he’s pretty sure he knows the answer to. But those few seconds before Tommy speaks are nerve wracking as hell and long enough for a thread of doubt to try to weave its way back into his mind – the same doubt he’d finally quashed before he jumped in his jeep and drove across town: what if he read this all wrong? What if Tommy doesn’t actually love him? His own breath catches painfully in his lungs; he’s on a precipice, heart balanced for a freefall that could see him plummet to the ground, or.. or spread wings, and.. fly.

Tommy lifts his head, his beautiful eyes rimmed red and making his irises that much bluer by contrast. “Evan, I’m so in love with you,” he breathes out; a sigh of anguish, like truth and painful honesty, airing grievance out into the world so that it might ease the weight sitting on his chest, the kind that makes it hard to breath, hard to exist. “You’ll be the death of me, kid.”

It’s not the first time he’s said that, although the other times were under very different circumstances. But it was always playful, and Buck can see the words for what they are now: a defense mechanism. Buck’s heart aches for him, but Tommy’s admission also sets something aglow in his own chest, something warm and pure and precious. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he promises.

“You don’t know that.”

“I do know it. We’ve both been hurt before– but we don’t need to hurt each other. And, I get it– you were trying to protect yourself when you walked out on me that night.”

Tommy moves to turn away, ends up just shuffling in place. He still wants to be close to Buck.

“Why can’t we just try? ‘Cause if you think you’re the only one who’d be heartbroken if this doesn’t work out, you’re wrong.” He’s realized some things this past week: he doesn’t adhere to whatever bullshit stereotype there is about men who are bi or people who come to terms with their queerness later in life – he doesn’t need to play the field or experiment or whatever crap Tommy tried to pass off as reason enough to justify his fears. He also realized that he loves Tommy – more than he’s ever loved anyone, more than he thought was possible to love someone but maybe always secretly hoped was in his future, even when that dark voice in his head tried to convince him no one would ever love him as much.

But Tommy does. Tommy loves him so much the thought of Buck breaking up with him scared him into ending things before he could get his own heart broken. But what he feels for Tommy isn’t some kind of puppy love or something he’ll grow out of or get bored of; it’s real, and Tommy thinking he’s not enough, that he’s not forever-kind-of-love material doesn’t dissuade Buck any; he’s intimately familiar with issues of self worth.

Whatever insecurities Tommy has about being someone’s last love doesn’t apply to Buck. “You’re enough, for me. You’re everything, actually. Everything I ever wanted and more I didn’t know I could want.”

A heavy moment passes between them where Buck sees his words sink in. They seem to weigh Tommy down, even more.

He wants so badly to reach out, to speak the words into his mouth, press them into his skin until Tommy can’t deny how real they are because he’ll feel them with every breath, every movement.

“I don’t want to lose you,” Tommy admits, voice soft and more vulnerable than Buck’s ever heard it. “I can’t lose you, Evan. If you ask me to try, and then–” he cuts himself off, shakes the thought away, tries to barricade himself back behind his armor.

Maybe Buck can’t fully understand Tommy’s fear because he hasn’t experienced what he has, but he knows what it’s like to try and fail, to love and be left. But the two of them are on the same page this time – for everything that matters – not reading from separate books like Buck and all of his exes. “Did I ever tell you about Thomas and Mitchell?”

“Um, no. I don’t think so. Friends of yours?” Buck can see Tommy’s still raw, still hiding, but he goes along with it, gives him the opening, like he’s always done.

“No, they uh.” Buck swallows, the memory still affects him even all these years later. “They were an elderly gay couple I met on a call a few years back. Well, I met Thomas. Sat with him after he watched his husband die.”

Tommy tries to look unimpressed with having to listen to a sad story – he’s more of a romcom guy; lighthearted storylines and happy endings, Buck knows – but his face crumples a bit in sympathy.

“He said, Mitchell was his heart, and that they wanted to go together. I could see how heartbroken he was, and the thought of loving someone like that and then losing them? I couldn’t imagine what that must be like.”

Tommy doesn’t say it but Buck can almost hear his gently snarky tone: we’re not dead, Evan. He can see the words held back behind the purse of Tommy’s lips.

“I told him I hoped to find a love like that some day. And he told me something I’ve carried with me ever since.” Tommy searches his face, and Buck feels the truth of Old Thomas’ words in this moment. “He said: you don’t find it, you make it.”

Tommy blinks. “Are you saying you want to grow old with me?”

Buck can’t help his smile; it’s the first real one he’s had because of Tommy all week– one not tinged in pain and regret. There’s the Tommy he knows and loves. “I’m saying, I want to make it with you. Because these past six months have been the best of my life, Tommy. And I realized it’s because I found you– my person– and I want to make a future with you.”

And there’s that tentative smile – the same one Tommy wore on their makeup coffee date all those months ago when he gave Buck a second chance.

They deserve a second chance, now. They deserve to try.

“I can’t move in with you,” Tommy settles on, and it sounds like a but, like: I can’t move in with you, but I want to be with you.

Buck shakes his head before Tommy even finishes. “That’s okay, we don’t have to live together.” He knows the unspoken yet doesn’t go unnoticed for the way Tommy’s narrowed eyes assess him. There’s no use hiding it. “I do want to live with you, some day. I want to build a life with you. But, we can take it slow.”

“I don’t think ‘slow’ is in your repertoire.” It’s a joke. Tommy’s smile is less fragile, his armor lowered.

Buck smiles again, hopeful; Tommy’s coming out of hiding.

He reaches out, fingertips grazing Tommy’s, his movements unhurried. Tommy lets him tangle their fingers together.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Tommy says, “Okay.”

Buck’s falling, diving, soaring. And he’s not alone. “Would a kiss be out of the question right now?”

That crinkly smile that Buck loves so much finally makes its return, creasing around Tommy’s eyes like rays of sunshine. He didn’t realize just how much he missed the sight of Tommy’s joy until he’s faced with it head on, bright and gorgeous. He feels nourished in its presence, especially knowing he’s the cause of it. He thinks it’s okay to be a little proud of that.

Tommy kisses him. Oh– this.. he’s missed this: the press of Tommy’s lips on his, his stubble scraping against Buck’s skin– catching on Buck’s own scruff. He slides a hand up Tommy’s chest, feeling the warm, toned bulk of him. Hooks his fingers around Tommy’s neck to pull him in more, bring their bodies flush, slip his tongue into Tommy’s mouth and get a proper taste of him.

One of Tommy’s large hands fits tentatively to Buck’s hip, one last show of hesitance. Buck disentangles their fingers and covers both of Tommy’s hands, moving them to rest heavier, grip him firmly, with no room for uncertainty.

“No more running away,” Buck murmurs, nose brushing alongside Tommy’s. He feels more than sees Tommy shake his head.

“No more running,” he agrees, following with another lingering kiss that’s begging to be deepened.

Buck breaks it to add: “We’re in this together.”

Tommy nods. “I’m with you.”

It’s not how he thought their first love confessions would go, but they’ll be stronger for it, he knows that much. And he knows Tommy loves him. And Tommy knows Buck loves him in return. And that’s a pretty good starting place for a second chance.

#bucktommy #fixit #fanfiction #tevan kinkley firepilot #evantommy #the episode that shall not be named #.txt #quick note: while the breakup is recognised in this (bc i fix it) the abby bs is not. we don't recognise that shit in this house #also: yes the title is from that destiel scene :3 #i apologise for the excessive use of the em dash and italics. i was vibin.

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sleepyangelkami · 8 months ago

Note

Recently got into the walking dead and let me just say i’m obsessed with your carl fics. It’s alarming how many times i’ve read them lmao.

CLINGY c.grimes

☆ WORD COUNT - 2.4K

CARL GRIMES X FEM!READER

☆ SUMMARY - being clingy was the most natural thing in you and carl's relationship after all the trauma you'd both endured. but when things get too much for carl, he shuts you out, leaving you to assume only the worst.

☆ WARNINGS - clingy relationship, crying, blood, gore, mentions of death, walkers, mean!carl, yelling, stress, mentions of violence, weapons, (2) use of y/n, petnames, intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread 🩷

clingy was a word you had much distaste for.

when the world literally ended, there wasn't much to do aside from survive and hold onto your loved ones. you'd been alone so long, people slowly falling, dying, leaving. before you knew it, it was just you and the group you'd found. well, they'd found you.

more specifically, he'd found you.

the boy with the sheriff's hat, eyeing you with his gun in the air. you made no sudden movements, eyes cast down on the ground as if you didn't care whether or not the bullet would fly from his gun.

it was just you in the house they'd raided. you didn't have a family, nor a group. just you, covered in blood, starved and in a kind of fetal position, knees pressed against your chest as you eyed the pool of blood surrounding you. some of your own, some from the ones before.

when you'd met the group, you had nothing. dead parents, dead siblings, nothing seemed to matter anymore. the world was gone, the people you loved either dead, taking the easy way out or leaving it to the walkers. or perhaps they'd left you, walking out when things got tough, leaving you and the remains of your family behind.

the screams from outside of the house would alert you of their soon fate afterwards.

you opened up, albeit it was slow.

you liked to believe there was an instant connection between you and the boy. he lowered his gun almost instantly, realising you weren't a threat behind the blood and glassy eyes. how he'd known, you weren't sure. he just did.

he rushed towards you, calling downstairs for his father in a panic.

you didn't speak much at first, staring when he'd offered his name. carl grimes. the boy you'd soon learn to love.

and with time, you made a new family. daryl dixon was a good idea for a father, you soon learned, carol sort of alike a mother when she snuck you an extra one of her homemade cookies.

you lost others, more fell. but you and carl never frayed.

rick and michonne would always catch you together, smiling and looking at one another knowingly. it was safe to say that it was no surprise when carl announced you were together. after all, you were practically joined by the hip.

this brings us back to the beginning. the word clingy.

you hated the word as much as you hated the death surrounding you. could anyone truly be clingy in a world like this? is anyone really too much? you liked to believe that there was no such thing as too much anymore. people died, left, separated. any day could be someone's last. you'd prefer to know that you'd spent all the time with them as you could.

if that was clingy, then so be it.

carl was used to this side of you, he catered to it, if anything, he matched it. he was used to the way you laid against him, talking lowly as he went about his tasks.

there was a grey cloud looming over alexandria at a time like this. the survivors were getting more powerful and it was plaguing carl's mind. you did your best to be as gentle as you possibly could, attempting to console the boy but it seemed no matter what you did, he would find himself bubbling over with anger.

"will you pass me the carving knife?" he cut you off mid-speech, ignoring the way your lips instantly shut closed, eyes searching your side of the table.

you weren't hanging from the boy as you usually were, picking at his hands and fingers, playing with them as though they were dough. you weren't snuggling into him while he placed his arm around you. your normal routine simply didn't exist with the past week or so.

but if space was what he needed, you were more than happy to offer that to him. "okay." you mumbled, picking up the knife you thought was the carving knife and passing it to him.

you didn't know much about knives and guns, usually sitting your head on your knees and listening to the boy speak about them. yet, every time he told you what was what and their intent, everything went in one ear and out the other. he'd often admire the way you asked a thousand questions over, one's he'd already answered. he'd only smile, answering them again.

now you realised perhaps you should have been listening.

apparently, you'd passed him the wrong one. you heard what you assumed was a swear pass his lips in a whisper as he placed the knife back to the table roughly. "what's wrong?" you questioned softly, watching him pick up a thinner knife, sanding it down with the block in his hand.

"got the wrong one." but his voice was anything but the gentle carl you knew and loved. this one was sort of mean, a tone of anger behind his words. "how many times have i explained all of them to you? i mean, you still don't know, seriously?"

it seemed as though the dark cloud over alexandria had moved into the room belonging to carl grimes. you found yourself sneaking your knees closer to your chest, just like the day he'd found you. "sorry." you mumbled, glancing away.

confrontation wasn't exactly your forté.

it didn't help that fighting with carl was a rare experience. "maybe if you just listened to me every now and again we wouldn't have this problem."

offence took over your face, brows knitting together. "I do listen to you." but when he talked about things like knives and guns it was sort of hard for you to keep up.

a scoff left his lips. "sure you do." angry carl never failed to show you a different side of the boy you loved.

you stared at him in shock, wondering where the sudden attitude towards you was coming from. you knew he was stressed, understood it even but you'd done nothing to deserve the hatred being thrown your way.

that was when the shaky, "why're you being so mean?" left your lips.

like i said, confrontation wasn't something you practiced often. you were sort of unsure of where to go in this situation.

carl breathed out a ragged breath, practically throwing the tools onto the table. you jumped slightly, staring at him with widened eyes. "maybe you're the one being too clingy." his eyes stared into yours but they didn't look like the ones you'd fallen for so deeply. "just..." breathing through his nose. "just leave me alone for a bit, yeah?"

clearly, he wasn't in the mood for any of this.

and neither were you.

you spoke no words as you quickly scooped up the bag on the ground, making a haste exit towards the door. the sound of a quick sniffle before you shut the door closed was enough for the weighing bricks to fall down on carl.

the sudden severity of the situation dawned on the boy.

he'd made you cry.

and he swore never to be the cause of your tears.

he didn't run after you, though, much too caught up in his own head. the stress of the entire situation of the saviours was weighing on him too. he crashed his elbows onto the table, shoving his head between his hands and groaning. he wondered if he'd ever get anything right.

before he could get too far with the self pity, his bedroom door swung open to reveal his father.

"what was that?" the older man questioned, not giving a clue to what he was talking about. but carl could guess. "y/n just ran out of here crying, you have somethin' to do with that?"

in a moment like this, disappointed dad gazing at him, carl would have done anything to wipe that look off his face. "dad, you don't get it―" about to explain himself, weave out of whatever this was.

"i don't care." was the answer he gave, having better things to be doing than sorting out this teenage relationship himself. "fix it." and finally slamming the door.

rick always taught carl how respect worked, he punished him when he was wrong, rewarded him when he was right. he didn't teach him to act like this.

it was night fall when carl finally found himself walking around the town of alexandria. he was sort of hoping you were out here instead of back at home for he really didn't feel like speaking to daryl at the door and asking were you home. however, he searched every nook and cranny, every place you usually went when you were upset and yet he walked back empty handed, realising you definitely hadn't been outside.

finally, he found himself standing on your doorstep, sucking in a breath before knocking on the white door, the light from above shining down on his face making him squint.

the door opened to reveal carol, thankfully not daryl. carl really couldn't imagine what daryl would have to say to him right about now. he just hoped he was out hunting somewhere or other, at least then he wouldn't get the urge to haul the boy off his front porch.

"y/n?" is all carol questioned, she was dressed in her own hunting attire and carl could only guess that she was on her way out too.

he pressed his lips into a thin line. "she home."

the woman nodded. "upstairs." before swapping places with the boy, making her way outside while inviting him in. "carl." he looked towards her. "don't make me regret leaving you inside."

he only nodded, allowing her to close the door from the outside.

finally, the silence of your house enveloped him.

you, carol and daryl all lived in the same two story house but sometimes it seemed only you lived here. all the decorations were your work, pictures and photo frames, some of before, some of now, everything screamed... you.

it was that cosiness about you that made him fall for you all that time ago.

his boots found the stairs, making his way up and finding your bedroom door, the last door on the right hallway.

your door was white, a brass handle leading him into the room he'd seen a thousand times before.

he'd imagine your room at the other side of the door, pretty pink bedsheets with matching curtains. he'd found the curtains for you on a separate occasion, you'd been over the moon. and the pretty lights that decorated your walls along with the picture frames and the stuffed animal he'd found tucked away in your bloodied back so long ago, now fresh against your bed.

a sort of comfort from the world before.

he knocked, receiving no answer.

"sweetheart? it's carl." again, he was met with the mere silence as his fingertips hung heavy against the door handle. "i'm coming in, okay?" it wasn't a question, more like a warning.

when he did walk in, he was met with a sight he'd seen before.

tears coating the edges of your eyes, sitting criss-cross legged on your bed in your favourite pijamas, pretty stuffed toy between your legs. carl had seen this before, held you through it, comforted you and swore that whoever hurt you would pay. what was he to do now when he was the cause of your sorrow?

"hey, baby." his tone was as gentle as could be, making his way to sit next to you on the bed. "missed you."

you two were so different.

carl had the stubbornness of a mule, when things got tough he found it awfully hard to apologise, not that he ever had to do it much. though, he'd much prefer for everything to disappear in a blink of an eye, forget everything ever happened and go back to the way you two were.

and when you were upset? you shut off.

"i was thinking..." still avoiding the two words that would seemingly make it all okay. "maybe next week we can go someplace? find somewhere to hang out for the weekend, like a night away." his words prodded no reaction from you. "how's that sound, angel?"

a shrug was the only thing he was met with.

your glassy eyes strayed far from his, not even attempting to look him in the eyes. he sighed, unsure of where to go. "look at me, sweet girl." long fingers entrapping your chin and turning it towards him.

there was a pang of guilt as he looked in your glassy red eyes, evidence that you'd been crying earlier that day. and he'd been the cause of it.

finally, the long awaited. "I'm sorry." and carl the stubborn mule grimes didn't just apologise to anyone. "shouldn't have talked to you liked that, c'mere." in a time like this, all you needed was comfort, that was what compelled you to move with his hands, climbing into his lap. the sound of your soft cries soon filled his ears. "i know, i know, 'm so sorry." hand rubbing circles against your back, holding you close.

you didn't mean to cry the way you did, but the weight of the day collapsing on you was enough for you to cling to the boy.

you buried your head in the crook of his neck, wisps of his own hair in front of your face, his hat steady on his head as he held you so gently, as though you were made of glass.

a wobble of your bottom lip as you pulled away from the boy, holding your hands up to your face as if to shield yourself. there was something so scary about him seeing you cry. "i didn't..." your own voice cracking. "i didn't mean to be clingy."

his heart quite literally shattered.

"no, no." his voice sort of high pitched as he pulled your hands from your face. "no, you're not, sweetheart, i promise you're not."

you sniffled at the boy. "but you said―"

carl couldn't dare to hear the rest of such a sentence. "i didn't mean it, baby, i promise." he pulled you back towards his chest, head finding his neck again only this time you didn't cry as hard, mere sniffles leaving your nose. "was bein' an asshole, baby, 'm so sorry."

it'd take a while for you to believe him.

but he'd do whatever it took.

main masterlist/carl's masterlist

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illbegottenfaith · 2 months ago

Text

symphonia ix - theo nott x reader

brothersbsf!Theo helps you recover from a terrible case of burnout at his family’s lakehouse

a/n - this is one of the more self-indulgent things I’ve written. a few months back I experienced my worst case of burnout ever. It was bad, like drop-out-of-college bad, and I really wanted to talk about it with my best friend at the time, except that we had just broken up and I forgot that he wasn’t my best friend anymore and god I rlly miss him :( anyways this was rlly cathartic to write enjoyyy

P. S. thank you so so much to everyone who has left a comment on my fics! I rlly appreciate it so much 🥹🫶 will start working on a lucky pt 2 once I get the inspiration heheh

tropes/warnings - angst, description of burnout, self-loathing, hurt/comfort, brothersbsf!theo

word count - 1.7k

You were one of the first to arrive at the lake house. After your breakdown about a week ago, your parents made sure you were on the first train out of Hogwarts the second your last final was over. Though, from what you gathered, you were soon to be joined by a few of your brother’s friends, as if to make it seem more like a vacation getaway than a rehabilitative trip.

You dropped your bags by the door as soon as you entered, a frail breeze barely stirring the living room air as the humidity made your hair plaster itself to the back of your neck. There was a tiny window looking out to the glittering lake and the all-too-familiar boy lounging near it, leisurely smoking in nearly 40-degree heat. After all, this was who the property belonged to - Theodore Nott. He had almost immediately offered it up as soon as news of her breakdown spread in an embarrassingly short amount of time. From the way the blazing sun beat down on his lean, toned back, you could tell the lakeside agreed with him.

You slipped your bathing suit on under a T-shirt and shorts. It was simply too warm to not consider a dip in the lake. Too warm to do anything except have the shrill cicadas bear a hole through your skull. Too warm to do anything except watch the flimsy reeds sway in the nonexistent breeze. Too warm to do anything except thread your fingers through your brother’s best friend’s hair with eyes fluttering shut as he presses hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck.

“Do you want a drink?” Theo asked hours later, when the sun was just a little past its zenith. You were reclined on a lawn chair with a tedious book while Theo was sitting at the edge of his, watching a school of carp crisscrossing with one another. It was afternoon, and without much breeze, the air was starting to border on stifling, even with your cover-up off. A cold soda sounded perfect about now.

“I’m fine,” you said instead, feeling irritable and sulky in the sweltering heat. Your eyes were glued to the way his back muscles tensed and relaxed under the blinding sun from behind your sunglasses.

Ever since the both of you had gotten a little too drunk at that one Halloween party, you’d occasionally spend the night together, and if either of you got a little handsy, well…you were teenagers. Other than the occasional flippant remark of ambiguous vulnerability, what you had was purely physical, and you guessed that it had something to do with him avoiding acknowledging you as his best friend’s little sister. For whatever reason, it was easier when you were just another warm body in Theo’s bed, and in your moments of weakness, that was more than enough.

You didn’t know what you were doing or why you were doing it with Theodore Nott, of all people. It wasn’t like he could seek you out in public, and the way things were going, that didn’t seem to be changing anytime soon. But between your maddening, idiot brother and your well-meaning if distant friends, there were days when he happened to be the only person in the world you didn’t hate.

But the more time you spent together, the more likely it was that either of you would slip up. You had already had a couple of calls too close for comfort, and it was becoming increasingly clear how fraught their situationship was making him. There way he’d occasionally hesitate or seem off pointed to how much this going behind your brother’s back weighed on him. Though you’d never admit it, you wouldn’t know what to do with yourself if he decided to end things. He already had the upper hand, being the older and more experienced half. You weren’t about to give up any semblance of a bargaining chip by admitting you needed him as much as he wanted you. So the only thing you could do was keep kissing him and hope that he liked the feel of your body under his enough to keep sneaking around.

But some days, like today, all you could think about was the ache that came with playing house with him when your brother wasn’t around.

“You shouldn’t be here,” you started, in a clipped voice. “Your friends must be missing you.”

Theo looked up, half-distracted by the lake, scratching his face. “Who? Zabini? Riddle? They’re joining us in a couple of days."

As if all this wasn’t humiliating enough. “What for?”

He stopped scratching his face. “For moral support, tesoro. We know how difficult this must be for y-“

You threw your book into the lawn chair next to yours. There it was again. More unwanted pity. God, were you really that pathetic?

“Principessa -“

“Shut up, Theo.” You felt him stiffen next to you. A small, nervous part of you knew you were being unfair, but the larger, angrier part of you didn’t care. Maybe this days-long meltdown or whatever it was would finally drive him away. Good riddance. It was what you were destined for, anyway. It was what you deserved. You stood, fumbling to pull on your cover-up with your trembling fingers.

“Go home. You and your friends. I don’t know what you’re doing here. It’s not like you’re my boyfriend or something.”

You relished the surprised look of hurt that flickered across his face before marching back to the cool, shaded lake house. Your mind was a blunt mess of chaos and hurt. You suppose you meant to draw yourself a bath because you find yourself submerged in lukewarm water in the bathtub, still fully dressed.

You’re not sure how long you sat there, feeling the tepid water cool around you, watching the sun and shadows shift through a tiny window near the ceiling. Eventually, you hear the front door creak open. You close your eyes and relax against the tub as you subconsciously follow Theo’s footsteps until he stops in front of the door. He taps against it and calls out your name, but you don’t deign him with a response. He sounds unsure of what to do. You’re not sure what you want him to do either. Eventually, he tries the handle and finds the door unlocked.

"What are you doing here?" Theo asked conversationally, keeping his tone light, as if he found strange girls fully-clothed in bathtubs every day. You continued staring at the tiled wall in front of you. You felt rather than heard him crouch closer to you and tentatively hold your wrist, preparing to sling your arm over his neck.

“Let’s get you out of there, hmm?”

You twisted your wrist out of his grip and you felt him retreat minutely. “Get away from me,” you rasped, your voice brittle with disuse.

Theo was no longer able to disguise his stricken tone. "Tesoro, please. You'll feel better once you're dry and warm-"

You shrank away from him, hugging yourself tighter as your head spun. The water was cold, so cold, filling you with a chill that was settling in your bones. A chill that made you feel like you could never be warm again, no matter how hard you tried. “I don’t want to be dry. Or warm. Don’t you get it? This is...this is it for me. I'm sickand...and crippled. I'm small. I'm weak."

Your voice died to a whisper towards the end. Theo gently, but firmly, reached for your arm and knees again, scooping you up like some sodden, fearful downtrodden animal. You were too exhausted to stop him this time, melting into a boneless heap on his lap, hissing from the feel of his burning skin against your freezing body. He swore softly under his breath as he held you closer and started rubbing your arm, trying to warm you up. With his arms around you, you didn’t feel so exposed to the whims and fancies of life and its cruelty. You felt safe.

You felt the overwhelming urge to cry. "It's so stupid," you mumbled. "Everyone does this. I've been doing it, for years and years now. I just..." you squeezed your eyes shut, sagging against Theo. "I can't do it a day more. I can't. I really, really can't."

"I know," he murmured into your hair, massaging soothing circles into your lower back.

"Theo," you choked out, as if you were only just realising who was holding you. Good Theo. Kind Theo. Beautiful Theo who rarely raised his voice at you, who waited up for you no matter how late it was and who held you like you were the most precious thing in the world even after you'd gone off the deep end.

Merlin, you didn't deserve him.

He captured one of your trembling hands in his own. "’M here, amore."

You exhaled shakily, pressing an ear to his mildly agitated heartbeat. “Why am I so-so broken?” you hiccuped.

'You're not broken. You're just...exhausted. You'll get better."

You subconsciously tightened your grip on his arm.

"But what if I don't? What if…what if I never get better?"

He pressed a kiss to to the top of your head before tucking you under his chin. "That's okay too."

You swallowed hard, casting a guilty look towards Theo’s chest. You didn't dare meet his eyes. “You’re soaked,” you muttered, half-heartedly trying to free yourself from his hold. His arms tightened around you as he drew you in even closer, rocking you gently. You weren’t sure how long the two of you stayed like that, him whispering comforting sweet nothings under his breath while you alternated between sobbing into his shirt and feeling numb to how your world had unravelled around you.

But here was Teddy, warm like the sun, and just for a moment you could believe that the world wasn’t truly ending.

#theo nott x reader #theo nott #theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott x you #theodore nott angst #Spotify

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eliza-and-her-monsters · 2 months ago

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Perfectly Misaligned

Vi x reader

Summary: Vi has always been protective over you ever since you moved in next door to a less than savory part of town. Nevertheless though she still tries to play things cool though and not cross any boundaries. Whenever she hears the way your friend really talks to you though from the other side of the door, all bets are off.

Contains: very very au! still kind of new to the arcane/LoL universe so this will not be following canon or anything at all (obvs because it’s fanfic but still), sweet and soft vi, protective vi, depictions and discussions of abuse (physical and emotional), injuries, hurt x comfort trope, fluff fluff and more fluff!! <3

basically a vi version of my first jb one-shot but I still included some differences! once again my first time writing for her so please be gentle! i hope you like it 🥹🩵

(PSA: i’m writing this from experience! if you are in an abusive situation like this please take care of yourself 💙)

“Jesus, have you ever managed to recall a single thing right?!” My best friend seethed, someone who should’ve been my best friend at least as she slung an already chipped dirty plate across the dingy kitchen.

I should’ve kicked her out at the first sign of violence. I shouldn’t have even invited her over to think of it. Somewhere in my stupid brain I thought that talking about it in person would help us work things out more. Maybe because in some way I thought she was more biting over text messages so it wouldn’t hurt as much in person either. Every moment of rationalization got stupider by the second.

“That never happened! I never said any of that! You’re doing just what you always do! Pointing the finger and making me out to be the villian! You really think you’re the innocent one in all of this?!” I yelped as soon as she slammed her hand down on the emotional support water bottle I was currently clutching onto until it hit the floor with a loud thunk.

The sound of a knock on the door made me flinch again, the tears burning my eyes until they started to ache. “Hey, y/n? It’s getting kind of loud over there, are you okay?” The voice followed from the other side of the door. Violet, probably the best neighbor I could’ve asked for in one of the trashiest apartments. It was definitely a rough part of town we lived in, the only thing we could afford really. She always checked in on me though.

I hated how pathetic I felt hugging myself, eyes wide as I peered up at my ‘friend’ as if I was fucking asking for permission. Permission she clearly wasn’t giving me. “Didn’t know you two were so close. Is this someone else you’re hiding me from? Someone else you’re probably painting the worst picture of me to?”

“Y/n, I’m coming in.” Vi echoed, fuck I had almost forgotten I’d given her a spare key for whenever she needed it or just wanted company.

The moment the door swung open though I could feel the weight of my ‘friend’s push shoving me towards the ground. The sting of broken glass biting in my skin as I yelped in pain, bits of blood now streaking across the ground. And Vi had seen every second of it.

“Did you just put your fucking hands on her?” She practically growled as she made her way into the apartment, thick combat boots kicking aside broken glass to make a path.

“Oh c’mon, do I really look like I would hurt somebody? She clearly fell-”

“Yeah, you do. Because that’s all I’ve been hearing you do since the moment I came home and thank god I got here whenever I did-”

“Vi, please don’t-” I squeaked out with yet another wince of pain as I tried to push myself up to a sitting position. I knew how she was. The way she stayed bandaged up and covered in bruises didn’t hide exactly how she made her money. But I had never wanted to see that side of her myself. I didn’t think I could.

The words were lost to me though, lifting my hand as if to latch onto her own only to see a piece of glass protruding from the muscle below my thumb. Vi only took one wide look down at me before shooting a sea of daggers towards the culprit’s way. “I’ll give you a headstart before I break every last finger that you laid on her? How about that?”

“Vi-” I tried to protest again, but I should’ve known better than to believe she’d actually try and stand up to someone like Vi. Towering over both of us with a plethora of tattoos in black ink and enough muscles to put a bodybuilder to shame, she’d be intimidating to anybody. If it wasn’t for the fact that she had stumbled out of her apartment the day I moved in with a hopeful grin on her face as she offered to help me carry things upstairs I probably would’ve been intimidated by her too. But she had charmed me from day one.

“Damn it, doll, what’d she do to you?” She whispered, kneeling amongst the glass without a single care of it scraping her up too. “Is it safe to pull that out?” She wondered, bandaged and bruised fingers gently taking my wrist into her hand to examine the damage on my palm.

“I think so… it isn’t too deep.” I spoke, sucking in another yelp of pain as I yanked the glass from my hand and shakily tossed the now red piece aside. “It’s not that bad- she- she just pushed me.”

“No, y/n-” It was the first time she directed that glare towards me and I’d be lying if I said it didn’t make me wince at first. Only seconds later though I watched her icy expression soften with a shake of her head. “You can’t excuse it this time, doll.”

I didn’t say anything, even knowing she was right, she stared down at my scraped and cut knees while the tears dripped down my cheeks until they landed on the open wounds and made them sting. Knowing I would probably find some way, some reason to excuse what had just happened. I always did.

“C’mon, baby, let’s go over to my place and get you patched up.” She sighed, almost with a hint of disappointment before sliding an arm around my shoulders and another underneath my knees. I sucked in a breath of pain as I was separated from the pool of glass, microcuts now hitting the air as the pieces that had embedded themselves into my skin clinked to the floor.

My eyes felt heavy, my head already lolling to the side the moment I felt her sweeping me up with ease. My head ached from the amount of arguing, almost worse than the stings of the open wounds. Vi shoved open the door to her apartment next door, still the same chaotic mess it usually was whenever she invited me over. She never showed it, but sometimes I think she felt lonely. She was just the kind of person you could tell even by first glance that she had been through a lot. I never asked though. It never seemed appropriate to get too personal. She was a private person, and I respected that. Or tried to.

“This might sting a little.” She whispered once we made it to her tiny bathroom, leaving me propped up on the sink as she rummaged around for her first aid supplies. I tried to mask my expression of pain the moment she touched the antiseptic to my bloodied knees but ultimately failed as a whimper tumbled from my lips.

“I’m sorry.” I spoke through a sharp breath, “That y-you have to do this. I shouldn’t have gotten you involved in our shit.” I lifted a shaky hand to try and wipe at my eyes, tears that seemed to have miraculously remained at bay until now.

“No, y/n, I got involved on my accord. Because it seemed like somebody needed to.” She shook her head, and I never knew that hands that looked so rough could be as gentle as hers were. Pulling them away from the wounds only to hold my chin in between her thumb and pointer finger. “Has she ever put her hands on you before, doll?”

I shook my head almost immediately, watching her expression harden, eyes icy enough to freeze. “Are you lying?” She asked again, a quiver setting into my bottom lip as she seemed to see through it all. Her anger was unmistakable, the way she pulled her hands away from me only to clench them into fists. Shoulders set like she was about to swing at something, anything. And still somehow I wasn’t afraid of her.

“Vi, Vi please… please don’t go after her right now. Please just- just stay with me. For a little bit, please.” I reached out to slide my hand around her bulging bicep just before she could put her fist through the wall.

I felt her swing around to face me, an arm sliding around my shoulder, fingers knotting through my hair as she held me to her broad shoulder. “You’re more important.” She finally spoke with another long breath that felt like she was loosening every muscle in her body. “She’ll get what’s coming to her though.”

“Promise you’ll be careful.” I begged into the fabric of her tank top.

“I can’t ever promise that, but I’ll always do my best.” The feeling of her fingers running through my hair was almost enough to pull the tears from my eyes again. Gentle touches I wasn’t familiar with. Gentle words I wasn’t used to hearing I almost couldn’t believe them. The feeling of safe muscular arms holding me to her warm chest as I clung onto her like I hadn’t ever done before. I didn’t even realize I was crying until I heard her softly shushing me from above, her chin propping up on top of my head. “Shhh, I’ve got you now. I’ve got you. Nobody’s gonna hurt you.”

She was careful whenever she inched away, gently drawing my body from hers. Calloused hands drawing down my bare arms as if checking for anymore tiny cuts the glass might have left. “Let me finish patching you up, and then I’ll hold you as long as you want me to.”

She wrapped my knees and hand in her bandages and placed little bandaids on every small wound. Whenever we made it back to my place though she didn’t hesitate to sweep up every last bit of the broken glass too before finally letting herself sit down.

“You didn’t have to clean everything, you know? I could’ve taken care of it.” I spoke into my lap, face drawn down as if in shame.

“I think you’ve cleaned up someone’s mess a few too many times.” Vi sighed before stretching an open arm out as if beckoning me in. “C’mere doll.” I was already moving into her arms, taking in her musky scent with just a tinge of iron that she always had whenever she returned from work. “I’m sorry I didn’t wash up first, I just heard the yelling and I came running and-”

“It’s okay.” I said with a shake of my head just before nuzzling into her chest. Her body could’ve swallowed me whole if she wanted it to, I felt like nothing more than a ragdoll curled up into her arms. And I normally would’ve hated it. But with Vi I felt like I could finally be small and sensitive and fragile and I’d be safe. It was just a matter of not having to be on guard 24/7.

Vi cleared her throat from above me, her fingers brushed underneath my chin as if nudging me to look at her. Blue eyes that I felt like were gonna send me into cardiac arrest, and with my hand bundled up into a ball against her chest I swore I could’ve felt her own heart kicking into gear. “Y/n, you know I really care about you, right?”

“After tonight, yeah, I- I think I do.” My cheeks felt like they were on fire, and all I wanted was to hide my face into her shirt again. But with the grip she had on my chin I knew she wouldn’t let me. “I- I care about you a lot too.”

“I know you do, I just feel like a lot of people don’t return the favor, you know? So I just… I want you to know that. I’ve got you. Regardless.” A long breath was shuddered from my lungs at her warm words. Feeling her cracked but soft lips drifting downwards to brush against my forehead just before she finally released my chin.

It felt like they held a lot of weight to them. Almost more than what they let on, than she wanted to let on. At least for now. They were enough though. Enough to get my eyes to tear up pathetically again as I burrowed my face back into her chest with a small sniffle.

“You’re my best friend, Vi.” I muttered just loud enough for her to hear.

She delicately slid her fingers around my wrist, softly stroking my pulse point until my teary eyes fluttered shut, “You’re mine too, darling.”

#Spotify #fanfic #vi x reader #vi x oc #vi x y/n #vi fluff #vi x you #vi from arcane #vi arcane #vi fanfic #arcane league of lesbians #arcane #arcane league of legends #arcane fanfic #fanfiction #hurt/comfort #lesbian #lesbianism

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logansargeantsbabymom · 9 months ago

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Too Good To Say Goodbye pt2

Logan Sargeant x Fem!Reader, Grid x Fem!Reader

warnings: cursing, pregnancy, shit-talking, grid baby

part 1 I part 2 I part 3 I part 4 I part 5 I part 6 I part 7 I part 8 I part 9 I part 10

F1 Masterlist

Follow my instagram account (THATS STRICTLY FOR THIS BLOG) for updates on when i post and fun stuff like that!

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It had been 5 months since my last encounter with Logan. Well, the last time I actually talked to him, if you would consider the argument we had as “talking”.

After I stormed out the house with my suitcase I made my way to my Best Friend Lily’s house and told her everything. Since Lily lives with Alex, he obviously heard everything that happened and absolutely reamed Logan a new asshole.

Lily and Alex were nice enough to let me stay at their place until I was able to get on my own feet again. Lily was adamant on making me stay until after the baby was at least 6 months old, so that I could comfortably move everything out without dealing with either a pregnancy bump or a newborn that would need constant attention.

Today was the Miami Grand Prix and I attended to cheer on my Grid family and the second Logan’s eyes fell on me, he sprinted over, his hand immediately touching my stomach

“oh my baby, how are you my love? how’s she doing for you?” Logan said coming in to try and place a soft kiss to my lips, only for me to step back “cmon babe. i’ve done everything to win you back, let me just be with you. i need to be in my daughters life” Logan said with pleading eyes.

“and you will be, just not with me in yours,” i say, removing his hands from my bump “and don’t touch my stomach without my permission, especially when it’s hot outside.”

Logan looked shocked at my comment but tried to shrug it off putting his hands right back on my stomach “my pretty girl, tell your mommy to forgive daddy, daddy didn’t mean what he said”

“Hey! She fucking said to stop touching her.” a voice yells, Logan turn to see who interrupted his time with both his love and his baby

“Listen Lando, this doesn’t concern you.” Logan scoffed attempting to put his hands right back on my stomach but Lando quickly stepped in front of me.

“It actually does concern me, seeing as you’re touching my girlfriend AFTER she told you to stop.” Lando’s voice stern, absolutely shocking Logan

“your girlfriend?” Logan looked sad, heartbroken and utterly confused

“yes, MY girlfriend,” Lando started “The woman you let slip away, the woman who might be carrying your baby but will probably see me as her dad, the woman you mistreated, the woman of my dreams and my beautiful, strong, confident girlfriend”

My hormones were absolutely not on my side because the more Lando went on, the more I started crying.

I’ve never felt this type of love with Logan, I mean yeah in the beginning of the relationship it was pure bliss, but after the first 2 months it was just like we were roommates that fucked and occasionally told the other we loved them whenever we were in private.

In public however, we seemed like the happiest ever, like there was nothing wrong in our world. That we were obsessed with each other, like the world would stop revolving if we were conjoined at the hip.

I can admit, for 2 weeks after my breakup with Logan and blurting out that I was once again with child, I couldn’t stop thinking about how cruel it would be to my daughter to not be with her father and for a second I almost went running back to Logan and begged him to forgive me for my outburst and to take me back. When I went to confide in Lando and ask him if I should go back, he told me that was the dumbest thing I could’ve done because if it is beneficial for my daughter it would be the worst years of my life knowing her dad thinks so lowly of me.

Lando was really my rock during my whole breakup and pregnancy, he encouraged me to move out of Lily and Alex’s house and into his in case something happened in the middle of the night, if I needed something and just because he overall thought I shouldn’t have to live alone while I was pregnant.

Lily thought it was weird that I moved into Lando’s place just 2 weeks after moving in with her but she made me promise to go over to hers at least once a day so she could talk to her niece.

I was quickly pulled out of my daze when I felt a small tug on my arm. It was Lando urging me into the McLaren garage after Logan started throwing a hissy fit.

“What the fuck is his problem?” Lando said with a light chuckle to ease the mood, placing his hand on the small of my back before quickly yanking it away. “Sorry, I know you just yelled at Logan for touching you without permission, and I just did the same thing. Can I touch you?” Lando asks, genuinely upset that he did the same thing I reprimanded Logan for, the only difference? I craved Lando’s touch, whereas Logan’s sent a nasty shiver down my spine.

Both my hands taking both of Lando’s. One hand I guide to the small of my back and the other I guide to my bump and I watch as Lando’s eyes widen.

This is the first time I’ve let someone other than Lily touch my belly and Lando was determined to take in this moment. The look of excitement evident on his face as he feels her kick.

“OH MY GOSH, DID YOU FEEL THAT? I mean- obviously you felt that, she’s inside of you but SHE KICKED Y/N/N, SHE KICKED!” Lando screamed in excitement, almost like a kid in a candy shop.

The look of adoration and love on Lando’s face made my heart almost burst. I drowned out all the excited squeals from Lando as I pulled him in for a kiss, smiling into it.

“You’re so cute when you’re excited,” I start saying before seeing the engineers ushering Lando to his car "Okay lover boy, give me a kiss and go to your car" I said pulling him right back into a quick kiss.

"Can I give baby a kiss too?" Lando asks with pleading eyes

"LANDO, GET A MOVE ON MATE! RACE STARTS IN 5" Oscar yells from the inside of his car before putting his helmet on

I chuckled before giving Lando a nod watching him as he quickly leans down and presses a firm kiss on the top of my belly before dedicating the race to my unborn daughter.

Dedicating a race to someone is a big task, if you end with a bad position or DNF it makes everything awkward but I have faith that Lando will end up on the podium.

We’re now down to the last 10 laps and the gap from Lando in first and Max in second just keeps getting bigger and bigger. The anxiety I’m feeling right now is worse than when I was waiting for my pregnancy test results.

The amount of laps only decreased and with every lap down, the gap grew. Once we were down to the last lap and the gap from Lando to Max was at a whopping 7.7 seconds everyone knew that Lando had secured his first win, he just needed to not fuck up and crash.

Once the checkered flag came into view, tears welled up in my eyes. Not only had Lando secured his first Formula 1 win but he had prior dedicated this race to my babygirl.

As the team ran to the pit lane, Zak came to view and offered me his arm which I gladly took as we made our way to where Lando would soon be.

"Lando's lucky to have you by his side, I know he dedicated his race to the little one," Zak starts. I can tell Zak wants to add more but he doesn't want to overstep a boundary, but with a nod of approval from me, he continues. "How do you feel about this whole Lando-Logan situation?"

"What do you mean?" I cock an eyebrow at him

"I mean with Logan being your daughters biological father but Lando being more of a full-time dad than Logan'll be?" a confused look falls over my features as I think over Zak's question. "I mean no disrespect Y/N, just curious."

"No, no I mean. We wouldn't be in this situation if Logan hadn't acted the way he did, so if he doesn't see his daughter as often as he wants that's his problem." I said nonchalantly shrugging. "But no more Logan talk. Lando actually finished the race and finished first, I think we should all celebrate." I say as I unlock my arm from Zak's as I watch Lando get put down from the crowd of McLaren engineers as he makes his way to me, wrapping an arm around me pulling me into a big sweaty hug.

"Oh my gosh Lando, I love you but you smell incredibly sweaty and it's gonna make me throw up." I say half joking as I gag, not even noticing the slip up. Not at least until I see Lando smile impossibly harder, " what?"

"You said you love me" I didn't even have a chance to process that I did in fact say that I loved him because Lando pulled me into a hot and steamy kiss, one that for sure would also make the news in a few minutes.

"I mean I didn't think that I'd be able to love, especially not after Logan. You changed that for me, but my god, please get on the podium and shower. I'm going to throw up." I say with love, adoration, proudness and sickness in my voice all at once.

"I love you so much more. You and baby" Lando says before pressing another quick kiss to my lips before being dragged to the cool down room

After the podium celebration and a shower Lando makes his way to me, pressing a tender kiss to my lips before asking me "All of the grid some team principals are going to this one bar, it's karaoke night. I really want to go but if you're not feeling up to it, we can just stay in at the hotel."

"Baby, you just scored your first win. Of course we can go." I say as I put my hand on his cheek before moving it to his hair, running my finger though it.

When we got to the bar we automatically spot the rest of the grid. I mean how could we not, they took up half the bar space?

"Baby, you can go grab a seat, I'm gonna grab us drinks, and before you say anything. Yes, I'm getting you a f/d." Lando said pressing a kiss to my temple.

"You know me so well. I'm gonna go say hi to everyone." I said as I squeezed Lando's hand before making my way to the group of drivers, WAGS, and team principals.

The second I was spotted by the WAGS they all made a beeline towards me peppering me with questions and asking if they could touch my tummy, all of which I gave permission to. I look at the rest of the table, waving at all of them and they all wave back knowing it might be a minute before they get a proper 'hello' because of all the attention my daughter is getting. I had made brief eye contact with Logan offering a tight-lipped smile before feeling a tap on my shoulder.

"Here you go, pretty girl" Lando says as he offers me my f/d which I gladly accept before looking back at Logan, only to find that his spot is empty. I don't give it much thought before I indulge myself in a conversation with the rest of the WAGS as Lando goes and has individual conversations about his win.

"Ladies and gentleman can I have your attention?" some lady says into the mic "the karaoke machine is now on and we already have our first request!" the bar erupts in claps and whoops as we all wonder who the first singer would be

"Singing 'Too Good to Say Goodbye' by Bruno Mars, put your hands together for Logan Sargeant"

My face fell as the song starts

"I've made mistakes, I could have treated you better. I let you get away. There goes my happily ever after." Logan starts, staring into my soul

"Tell me why, why can't we try and start again? This can't be how our story ends. You're more than my girl, you're my best friend. Tell me you remember when, ooh, I was your man and you were my girl It was you and me against the world" tears start welling in my eyes as he continues singing.

A firm hand on my shoulder pulls me out of my thoughts and I turn to see that its Zak

"Don't you love Bruno Mars, why aren't you singing?" I stare at him, the tears on my waterline threatening to fall. I don't answer him though, I just turn my body back to the man on the stage.

"Yeah, I'm still in love with you darlin'. I know you feel the same Oh, what's the point of both of us being broken hearted? I pray it's never too late" Me? Still in love with you? In your dreams Sargeant

"Girl won't you listen? It's you that I'm missin' . Take my hand, I wanna go, I wanna go. If we're gonna fight this fight for better days. I know we're gonna make it. This is the chance, let's take it." From another person's perspective, this would seem like a nice grand gesture to win back the woman of his dreams. I mean who wouldn't want their man to sing a song about wanting a second chance after he royally screwed up?

"Baby, ain't nobody gonna love me like the way you do. And you ain't never gonna find a love like mine. Tell me what can I do to make it up to you? 'Cause what we got's too good to say goodbye goodbye Baby, ain't nobody gonna love me like the way you do. And you ain't never gonna find a love like mine. Tell me what can I do to make it up to you? 'Cause what we got's too good to say goodbye, goodbye" The songs ends and half the bar erupts on claps and whistles as Logan stares in my eyes before talking into the mic.

"Y/N, baby, I know I screwed up. I'm trying to make this work. For you and our babygirl, just please give me a chance. I don't ask for much, really. Just a chance to undo my wrongs, a chance to make you the happiest woman on earth, a chance to rebuild our family. I want a chance to be in my daughter's life" Logan said sniffling as he wiped his nose before continuing "I really hope you liked this and it's enough to change your mind." Logan finished as he hopped off the stage making his way to me

Lando's protective side started to show a bit because the second he picked up that Logan was making his way to me he instinctively stepped in front of me, only backing up when I rested my hand on his bicep.

"Why? Why would you assume that I'll get back with you after that Logan?" I ask, my eyes raking his face for any type of clues. I don't know what I was expecting to come out of his mouth, but the reply he gave me wasn't it. It also not only made my blood boil, but everyone who knew about the situation's blood boil.

"Zak said you would"

I HOPE YOU LIKED THIS ONEEEEEE <3333

Lemme know if I should keep going!!!

taglist:

@luckyladycreator2 @itsmiamalfoy @jeffs77 @ilivbullyingjeongin @forevercaffeinated-lee @daemyratwst @gulphulp @callsignwidow @f1wintermoon13 @teenwolf01 @victoriassecret101 @eddieharrington

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seoktized · 10 months ago

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coulomb’s law (s.jy + s.mt)

working on a science project with two jocks wasn’t the worst thing ever.. even if you all got locked in a room together.

word count: 3.1k (unedited 😀)

genre: college au, smut

warnings: fingering, creampie, tit play, oral (m. receiving), unprotected sex. literally just smut idk what to tell u 😭

a/n: LOWKKKey self indulgent bc AWRF i love matthew and jake. finally back writing yayy!!! first long fic too omgomg pls tell me if u like, it means a lot!

you always had a like for all things science, so when you heard you’d be completing a science project you were ecstatic.

‘this would be easy’ you told yourself.

you believed that until you were paired with seok matthew and jake sim who happened to be your former crushes and star football players for your college.

the two of them knew they were stars. matthew and jake didn’t care about doing school work, often paying another student with daddy’s money.

the two were untouchable. because who would bench their best players? especially when they’re so close to making it to the championship?

when your professor announced your name along with the two boys’ you quickly realized easy was an understatement.

after everyone was given their partners, your professor dismissed class in order for everyone to get started on the project.

you stood up and collected your things, mentally preparing yourself to hear either boy to scoff and tell you do the project yourself.

you made your way down the aisle to the area matthew and jake were sitting in, the two of them were engaged in a conversation

‘they probably didn’t hear what the professor even said’ you thought.

your suspicions were confirmed when jake looked up at you with a puzzled look on his face. the three of you rarely crossed paths, so he had the right to be confused.

matthew saw jake’s expression and followed his eyes. the two boys staring at you made chills run down your arms, you could sense the judgment in their eyes.

“are you just going to stand there or…” matthew asked, an awkward expression was present across his face.

“right, um, we were assigned as a group for the science project.” you had a tight grip on your books, the way jakes eyes scanned your figure made you feel small.

“science project?” matthew looked over to jake who shrug his shoulders, “what science project?”

you rolled your eyes, “the professor was literally talking about it the whole time.”

jake chuckled, “all i heard was blah blah blah.” matthew laughed at jakes words.

“well, it’s due in two weeks so i’d like to get started,” you reached into your pocket to grab your phone.

“give me your numbers so we can arrange time to work on it.” you stuck your phone out in their direction.

matthew’s eyebrows raised and jake had a smirk growing across his face.

“woah, asking for my number already? i don’t even know your name sweetheart.” jake teased.

you visibly cringed at jakes attempt at flirting, it was no surprise jake would try and fuck anything on legs. you swore to yourself you’d never give in his advances, or so you thought.

matthew grabbed your phone and typed in his name and number before handing it to jake to let him do the same. jake laughed a little as he was typing in his information. he handed the phone back and you saw a heart emoji next to his name.

you glanced up at him and he shot you a wink. quickly looking back down to your phone, you created a groupchat for the three of you. sending a ‘hi’ to make sure they were in the chat.

“anyways, i’ve gotta get going. i’ll text you guys later to work out the details.” you gave an awkward smile to which matthew responded with a wave.

“bye, doll.” jake grinned. after you turned you heard a hand collide with someone’s chest. you assumed that matthew smacked jake because of how desperate he seemed.

texting them was even harder. the boys barely replied. when one of them did respond, it was a short ‘can’t we have practice’

looking down at your phone, you read matthew’s text which was another excuse as to why they couldn’t join you.

sighing, you set your phone down and decided to start on the project on your own. you knew from the beginning it would be like this. you felt a bit silly for almost believing they’d try to work with you.

you were honestly glad they weren’t able to show up. the whole process would go by much faster without the two of them goofing off the whole time.

you pulled out your laptop and placed it on the table. glancing out the door of the small room you were in, you noticed the usually crowded library was empty. just you and the nice librarian who was busy tidying up her desk area.

opening your laptop you began to type away, looking at different sources to complete the research portion of the assignment. you were pulled away from your research by a buzz from your phone. flipping it over you saw a text from matthew.

matt: practice was canceled and we don’t have anything else to do

we’re coming to work on the project

y/n: okay. i’m in room 28

‘*they really wanna work on this project?*’ you thought. you shrugged your shoulders and continued to work as much as you could before they arrived.

minutes go by and you hear jake being obnoxiously loud. the librarian told him to be quiet and he said a small “sorry, sorry.”

matthew entered first, jake following behind like a lost puppy. jake shut the door behind him and the two walked over to you. jake slammed his backpack on the table a little too hard making you jump.

“shit- sorry,” he quickly apologized.

“so what do you want us to do?” matthew asked, pulling out a chair so he could sit down.

“well, i’ve started on the research part,” you turned your laptop around to the boys, showing them the progress you’ve made so far.

“so you guys could go through and start writing out the experiment we have to do. i’ll send it to you.”

the two nodded and brought out their own laptops. you quickly typed away on your computer, sending them the doc you were working on.

matthew was actually focused on working. jake on the other hand kept sighing as his short attention span was creating a problem for him.

“why the hell do you keep sighing?” matthew snipped, starting to get frustrated.

“i cant focus.” jake whined, his hands combing through his hair in frustration.

matthew rolled his eyes, “dude it’s only been 30 minutes.”

“actually, it’s been an hour. an hour of doing nothing!” jake exclaimed.

matthew shook his head in annoyance at jake. you felt your body start to ache from being slouched over for so long.

you stood up to stretch, “should we get snacks? there’s a vending machine around the corner.” you closed your laptop.

the two boys agreed and stood up to leave the room.

jake reached the door first and twisted the handle. it didn’t budge. he started to twist it more in panic until matthew pushed him out of the way to try himself.

the door was locked from the outside.

your eyes widened, realizing you were locked in a room with jake and matthew.

you pushed the two out of the way trying the handle as if you were stronger than the two of them. unlucky for you, the door did not open.

jake groaned and rubbed his face with his hands.

“ms. kim! can you come open the door?” you yelled out, hoping the librarian heard you.

seconds passed there was no answer. you let your forehead fall against the door, sighing in defeat.

“let me try again,” jake stepped up to the door, attempting to open it again. it didn’t work.

“i guess we’re stuck in here.” matthew shrugged.

you didn’t reply, instead you made your way back to where you were sitting. plopping down in the chair, you opened your laptop back up.

the two boys exchanged glances for a second. jake smirked and nodded at matthew. they returned to their seats as well.

“let’s play a game.” jake said.

his facial expression told you he was up to no good. but you didn’t want to bore yourself to death with work so, you agreed closing your computer once again.

“what game?” you asked.

“truth or dare” matthew smirked.

you pressed your lips into a line, nodding at matthew.

it could be fun. what could go wrong?

“alright jake first, truth or dare.” matthew asked.

“mm.. truth.” jake replied.

“you’re no fun. but hmm.. what’s your.. biggest turn on?” a wicked grin was on matthew’s face.

your eyes widened at matthew’s words. you quickly realized this wasn’t gonna be a fun game. jake chuckled at your expression before pretending to think.

“i don’t know.. probably… begging? something about a girl begging for my dick seems so sexy,” his words were laced with cockiness. matthew nodded and turned to you.

matthew’s gaze made chills run down your spine.

“truth or dare?” jake sat up, waiting to hear your answer.

“um, truth.” you quickly said. matthew shook his head.

“have you ever thought about fucking one of us?” matthew raised his eyebrows, both boys leaned in waiting for your answer. matthew was bold.

“n-no.” you lied. the two of them could see right through it though, nodding and continuing on with the game.

“matt! truth or dare?” jake exclaimed.

“dare.”

“ooh!” jake rubbed his hands together, you on the other hand was scared for what jake was going to say.

“i dare you to… makeout with her for 30 seconds.”

your wide eyes shifted from matthew over to jake, staring at him in bewilderment.

matthew turned to you, “is that okay?” you looked back over to him and paused for a second before slowly nodding.

“i need to hear you say it, love.” he purred.

“yes.. it’s okay” you squeaked.

matthew moved closer to you, turning his head to jake, “count for us.”

“alright, go.” matthew placed his hand on your cheek, pressing his lips to yours. quickly melting into the kiss, you let matthew slip his tongue into your mouth.

your own hands that were once in your lap had found their way to his hair. matthew was a good kisser causing you to almost go drunk on his lips.

“times up!” jake interrupted.

matthew pulled away and you chased his lips, wanting more.

“woah, doll, we gotta continue our game yeah?” he chuckled at your eagerness.

pouting, you leaned back into your chair.

“mkay jake, truth or dare?” matthew asked.

“mm i’ll go with dare now.”

“i dare you to play with y/n’s tits.” matthew’s eyes were glued to your chest watching as it moved up and down from your breathing.

jake shot up and moved around the table to where you were. feeling a little bold, you took off your own jacket and shirt. your white lacy bra on display for the two of them to see.

jakes eyes looked as if they were about to pop out of their sockets. to your right, you heard matthew chuckle.

jakes hands made their way to the back of your bra, swiftly unclipping it. he slid your bra off slowly, his eyes never leaving your chest.

moving in closer, he stuck his tongue out, giving kitten licks to your hardened nipples.

even though it was something small, the pleasure he was giving you was overwhelming. you were completely turned on from making out with matthew and this was the cherry on top.

you remember how you told yourself you wouldn’t let jake have you this vulnerable, but all those thoughts subsided the moment he latched onto your mound.

you bit your lip in an attempt to suppress the whimpers that threaten to slip from your mouth.

jake was basically making out with your chest at this point, one of his hands was fondling with the one he didn’t have in his mouth.

you let your head tilt back before you heard matthew’s voice ring through your ears

“time’s up!”

you lifted your head up, looking at matthew who was visibly hard and who obviously didn’t want the two of you to stop.

jake detached himself from your tit with a loud pop before sitting back in his own chair. his eyes were still glued to your chest.

“did you enjoy yourself?” matthew asked.

you nodded—not being able to speak— the two boys and their previous actions was the only thing on your mind.

“alright princess, truth or dare?” jake’s voice was a bit deeper signaling that he must be as turned on as you are right now.

“dare.” you breathed out.

the two boys exchanged a glance before smiling at you. they both stood from their chairs, moving closer to you. and though you were almost their height, them standing above you like this made you feel small.

“we dare you to let us fuck you.” matthew’s hand went to your jaw once again, stroking it softly.

jake bent down to let his hand trail up your thigh, rubbing dangerously close to your heat. they were waiting for you to give them the green light, which you did with a small “go ahead,”

jake’s hand had now traveled to the waistband of your pants, tugging on them to signal that he wanted to take them off. you lifted your hips up in order for him to slip them off of you.

matthew, on the other hand, was placing kisses all over your exposed chest, tasting what his friend previously did.

jake’s hand pressed against your clothed cunt, watching as the wetness seeped through your panties.

“matt look,” he chuckled, matthew detached from your chest to look down.

“fuck, doll, you’re so wet for us. such a good girl,” matthew praised, you let out a whine at his words.

the want, the need for them was getting stronger. who would thought that a science project would’ve led to you getting this wet for two star football players.

you pushed your hips against jake’s hand, trying to get some friction where you needed him the most.

“you want us to fuck you, baby?” jake asked, letting his hand pull away from your core. he wanted you to beg for them, for him.

“mhm, please. please fuck me.” you whimpered.

“okay love, we will.” matthew replied before jake could.

the two of them raised from their positions for a second in order to rid themselves of their clothes. they were hard. and big. you were in for it.

“i want her mouth. her pretty swollen lips would look so good around my dick.” matthew told jake. he nodded in response to matthew.

“hop on the table for us, doll.” jake said. you quickly moved to the table, laying down for them.

matthew came over to one side and leaned down to place a kiss on your lips. when he pulled back he let his thumb rub over your bottom lip. his other hand was wrapped around his aching cock, stroking it slowly.

“alright baby. i’m gonna fuck your mouth, okay?” matthew asked.

you nodded, sticking your tongue out for him. he grinned in response before placing his dick on your tongue. you let your lips close over his girth and he began to thrust in and out slowly.

jake was now on the side adjacent to matthew. he pulled off your panties, discarding it with the rest of your clothes.

his thumb came in contact with your clit, making you moan around matthew’s cock. matthew winced at the feeling, whispering that your mouth felt so good.

two fingers were now circling your hole. jake pushed his fingers into your warm cunt, thrusting in and out before adding another finger. he continued his ministrations before deeming you prepped enough for his cock.

“gonna fuck you now.” he said before he slowly pushed in.

you all groaned in unison, pleasure on high. matthew was now thrusting at a faster pace, getting lost in the heat of your mouth.

jake was letting you adjust to his size before bottoming out. he stayed there for a second to relish in the feeling of your tight cunt squeezing around him so deliciously.

“fuckk you’re so tight-” jake winced. you tapped your foot on his thigh, signaling that he could move.

he started a quick but deep pace, watching as your tits bouced with every movement. his thrusting cause you to move against matthew’s cock, every thrust hitting the back of your throat.

matthew admired how you were gagging and sputtering on his cock. his hand brushed against your jaw, gripping it a little to thrust faster. you noticed he was starting to near his high as his breaths and groans started to increase.

he slipped himself out of your mouth, “fuck- open up.” he said as he started to stroke his length.

you obeyed and opened your mouth letting your tongue slip out too. he came on your face tongue with a loud groan.

“so so good for me, fuck.” he said as he came down from his peak.

jake’s thrusts were now relentless in an attempt to get both of you to cum. matthew intensely watched the area where you and jake were connected. he felt himself getting hard again at the sight.

your loud moans weren’t supressed anymore which boosted jake’s ego.

“fuck fuck fuck i’m close jake please!” you begged.

“me too, doll, fuck! can i cum inside?” he was roughly gripping your waist, rough enough to leave bruises.

“yeah, i’m on the pill!” you whined at the thought of him filling you up.

matthew was stroking his cock at the scene before him, his eyes flicking between your face and your cunt.

“god, i’m gonna fill this pretty pussy up,” jake moaned. you nodded at his words.

one more thrust was all it took for you to some undone, your back arching off the table, moaning loudly. jake came soon after with a “shit!” leaving his mouth from the way you were clenching around him. his hips were flush against yours, letting your cunt milk him dry.

he pulled out slowly and you whined from the loss of contact. matthew had came in his hand beside you, all three coming down from your highs.

the room was full of panting, everyone attempting to catch their breath.

“hello? is anyone in there?” you heard from outside the door.

all three of your heads shot up towards the door.

“yeah! we’re still studying. give us a second!” matthew shouted.

you stood to put on your clothes, struggling a bit due to your wobbly legs.

the two boys did the same before packing up their things. matthew saw how you were having trouble so he placed his things down to help you out. jake helped by packing your things into your bag.

you all made your way to the door, matthew’s hand was on the small of your back to stable your walking. jake opened the door, smiling at the librarian before you all brushed past her to leave.

“maybe we should work on projects together more often,” jake smiled. matthew made a noise of agreement and you nodded.

and that you did, always making A after A on every project with your new group.

#zerobaseone smut #zb1 smut #seok matthew hard hours #seok matthew smut #matthew hard hours #matthew smut #zerobaseone x reader #zb1 x reader #enhypen smut #enha smut #enhypen hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts #jake smut #jake hard thoughts #jake hard hours #enhypen x reader #enha x reader #seoktized.zb1 #seoktized.enha

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nataliasquote · 3 months ago

Text

Double the trouble | Switch Up | n romanoff

Double the trouble AU

Summary: Yelena is back, the twins are older, and her scheming ways do nothing but backfire. a mother always knows…

Age: 8

Warnings: none

wc: 3.3k

note: hello! I’m back with another little oneshot for DTT. I’ve missed writing tbh and although this isn’t the best, I’m pleased to finally write. I’m sorry for keeping you waiting!

-⧗-

Leaving the twins with Yelena was either the best idea or the worst idea Natasha had ever had. But with Wanda away visiting her brother, Natasha didn’t really have much of a choice. Work didn’t allow her to take time off like this, so she turned to the next best thing.

The blonde was as grumpy as anything until she was faced with the two bundles of joy that were her nieces. She hated kids, but Isla and Y/n were an exception. She opened the door with a huge grin as the twins came barreling towards her, crouching barely over the threshold to collect them in a hug.

Natasha hovered back by the stairs with a soft smile tugging at her lips. Despite having a rocky patch, she truly loved Yelena with all her heart. And seeing her girls happy was all that mattered. She wished she could stay, but with new development plans happening at the studio, she had to oversee the final meeting.

“Are you staying all day?” Isla asked, peering round to look at Yelena’s truck parked in the driveway. “Where’s Fanny?”

“I’ll get her out in a minute, and yes I am, lucky duck.” The twins cheered at her response, their chatter tumbling over the top of each other as they bombarded their aunt with questions. Natasha quickly stepped in, taking them by the hand so Yelena could finally enter the house. After sending her girls over to the couch, Natasha pulled Yelena to one side, whispering in hushed voices.

“It shouldn’t take long, but in case I’m held back, there’s boxed mac and cheese in the cupboard and the girls made cookies last night so they’re in the green jar.”

“Mac and cheese, green jar, got it.”

“Please don’t give them too much sugar,” Natasha warned, knowing her sister’s tendencies, “and they have been arguing a lot, so good luck.” She didn’t really need to tell Yelena what to do, she’d babysat since they were really little, but it gave Natasha a piece of mind to know they were well looked after.

“Natasha, they’ll be fine. Don’t you trust me? Yelena asked with a grin.

“Absolutely not.”

Yelena rolled her eyes, stuffing her hands into her pockets. “So who’s the troublemaker this time?”

“Y/n has been in a mood for the past few days, so it’s currently her. Apparently Isla's existence annoys her.” As if on cue, a yell sounded from the living room and Natasha inwardly groaned. A moment of peace was never on the cards.

As she went to sort out whatever argument was occurring with her eight year olds, Yelena let Fanny out of the car and watched the Akita bound up the front steps, her tail wagging frantically. Any normal person would feel bad about the amount of hair she shed, but it only made Yelena laugh. She truly made every place her home.

The scene in the living room was absurd even for Yelena. Natasha was scolding a pouting Y/n whilst Isla cried in her arms, clutching something hidden behind her hair. Yelena hovered awkwardly, unsure how to approach, and Fanny did the same. It was almost like she could read the room.

Natasha, breathing a sigh of relief, gestured for Yelena to approach, to which she did. A sniffly Isla was pushed in her direction and the young girl lunged at her aunt, clinging to her waist with a sob.

“What happened?” Yelena mouthed, her eyebrows shooting up as Natasha held up what looked like a barbie doll. “Where’s the hair?”

“This one got scissor happy,” Natasha said exasperatedly, jabbing her thumb in Y/n’s direction.

“She stole my barbie!” Y/n protested, folding her arms across her chest in a huff.

“No!” Isla burst out,” that’s mine!”

“Well I don’t care, I was playing with it!”

“Get your own!”

Above their heads, Natasha gave Yelena a look. This is what she had been dealing with since Wanda left and although she hated leaving her kids, the bickering was starting to wear her down. It was Yelena’s turn to handle it for once. She just hoped the house would still be standing when she got back.

“Girls, please,” Natasha sighed, standing up with the barbie in her hand. “Mama has to go in a minute, and I’m not having you acting up for Yelena.” She used her stern mom voice and Y/n paled, hating being told off. “Y/n, can you apologise to Isla please.”

“No.”

Natasha may have a soft spot for her youngest but the glare that crossed her features made the little girl’s eyes well up and she hung her head in shame. “Y/n…” Natasha warned, knowing what came next if she didn’t start behaving.

“Sorry,” Y/n mumbled, suddenly very interested in the sleeve of her pink sweater.

“Good,” Natasha stated, brushing off the dog hair from her sleek black suit trousers. “I want you two on your best behaviour, and Yelena will tell me everything that happens. If I find out that you’ve been disrespectful and naughty, I will tell Mama. Okay?”

The girls mumbled in chorus, with Isla still clinging on to Yelena and Y/n standing by herself. It was just a phase, Natasha had to keep reminding herself that, but it certainly felt as though it was going to last forever. She wasn’t the bad mom, but Y/n’s behaviour had been so bad lately that not a day went by where she wasn’t being told off. It hurt her to see her daughter so upset, but Natasha stood strong. It was her own kindred spirit that she saw in Y/n, and now she understood why she was such a difficult child sometimes.

“We’re going to have fun, right guys?” Yelena asked with extravagant enthusiasm, although the responses she got were far from it. “You can go and do your boring adult stuff whilst the cool kids do… cool kid stuff.”

Natasha anxiously glanced at her kids, a wave of doubt washing over her. “Are you sure you’ll be okay? I can cancel-”

“Natasha, go, I’ll be fine. They’re angels with me and I’ve got Fanny with me if it all goes wrong.”

The dog in question gave a small woof and Natasha eyed her warily, far more a cat person than a dog person. She wasn’t totally convinced, but motherhood had made her anxious so she straightened out her jacket and nodded, psyching herself up.

“I’ll be back by 5, 6 at the latest.”

“Have a good day Mama,” Y/n said quietly, trying desperately to get back on her good side. Having Wanda mad at her was bad enough, but having Natasha was the worst thing she could think of. And when her Mama crouched down and opened her arms, Y/n took her chance to get to the hug first, muttering another ‘sorry’ to try and make amends.

“Be good, girls. I’ll be home soon.”

‘Aunty Lena, does Mama hate me?” Y/n asked as the door closed. The blonde frowned and turned to her niece, her large green eyes piercing into the Russian’s soul.

“Of course not, little bug. But you have to start being nice to Isla, okay?”

“I know,” Y/n replied. “She just really makes me mad.”

“That’s what sisters do. Your mama and I used to fight all the time.”

Y/n’s eyes lit up. “You did?”

“It’s totally normal, little bug. When your mama had blue hair, I used to tease her about it all the time.”

Isla’s head perked up at that. “Mama had blue hair?”

“Has she never shown you pictures?” Yelena asked in disbelief. Both girls shook their heads and Yelena grinned. “I’ll make some hot chocolate and I can show you. Your grandma put all our photos as kids in an album.”

The twins cheered loudly and ran to the kitchen, laughing with each other. It was such a stark contrast to earlier that Yelena had to do a double take at what she was witnessing.

“I’m glad you’re not this much work,” she muttered to Fanny, who barked happily at the noise. Kids really were hard work.

~~~

“Lena, kick it!” Isla yelled across the garden, dancing around the goal whilst her aunt really took her time. She was doing it purely to mess with her niece, and it was working perfectly. With another yell, Isla sprinted out of the goal in an attempt to tackle, but Yelena took her chance and sent the ball flying into the goal with a thud.

“That’s not fair!” She cried, running over to retrieve it.

“Another point to Aunt Lena!” Y/n announced from her place at the side before launching into another back walkover. She’d only recently learned the skill at dance and was more than happy to do acro tricks whilst they played. As long as she kept score as promised.

“No! That doesn’t count,” Isla protested, one foot propped up on the ball. “She cheated.”

“I didn’t cheat, you just have no patience,” Yelena said sassily, propping a hand up on her hip. “You’re not going to make a very good goal keeper.”

“I hate soccer anyway,” Isla grumbled, kicking the ball as hard as she could in Yelena’s direction. “It sucks.”

“It’s only because you’re bad at it,” Y/n piped up, now sitting on the porch steps after exhausting herself from cartwheels.

“You’re worse!” Typical comeback but Yelena had had enough. With a roll of her eyes, she marched towards the goal, giving Isla a bump with her elbow as she walked past.

“New game, I’ll be in goal and you have to work together to score. Deal?”

Isla shook her head. “I’m not playing with her, she can’t even kick a ball!”

“I can too!” Y/n protested, sprinting up to her sister. “I’m better than you and I don’t even have lessons.”

“That’s so not true. You-”

“Guys!” Yelena shouted, her Russian accent thickly coating her words. “Do you ever stop this fighting? It’s so annoying!”

The twins went silent, an uncommon phenomenon. Y/n muttered something under her breath but Yelena didn’t have it in her to care anymore. Every time she babysat it made her more and more impressed at how Natasha did it. A true saint.

“New rules. You have to pass it to each other before trying to score. If you don’t, the point goes to me. Okay?”

“Fine!”

Surprisingly, very few fights broke out over the course of the game. Isla did most of the scoring after Y/n well and truly botched her tries. But in her defence, her legs weren’t made for kicking the shit out of a soccer ball.They were made for cartwheels, which Isla soon got fed up with.

After far too long outside, Yelena rounded them up and herded them back inside after teeth started chattering and Y/n’s soaked trouser legs from falling over were turning her lips slightly blue.

After a quick bath she sat them both on Isla’s bed and dug through her closet for some comfier clothes. After a few minutes she sat back on her knees, her mind racing.

“Do you guys match anymore?”

“Ew,” Isla said, her nose scrunching. “Never. All Y/n wears is pink, and I hate pink.”

“You also hate dresses too.”

Yelena was quiet for a moment, the cogs in her head turning. She turned around with a sheepish smile, almost shaking with excitement.

“I have an idea, but you need to cooperate… okay?”

~~~

Natasha sighed as she stepped out of her car, her breath forming a small cloud in front of her. It was far too cold for October and she rushed up the front steps to get inside. The building work was looking amazing and she knew Y/n was itching to get back to the studio just as much as she was (there was only so much kitchen ballet they could do).

It was eerily quiet as the front door opened, only her heels sounding on the wooden floor as she approached the kitchen. She wasn’t met with a pile of bodies throwing themselves at her, which was probably more strange than the silence. Had she trusted Yelena too much and her sister had kidnapped her children and ran off to Russia? Honestly it wasn’t such a surprising theory.

Empty kitchen… empty living room… this was weird. But the sound of giggles couldn’t be hidden and Natasha kicked off her heels at the bottom of the stairs and took the stairs two at a time, her trousers straining around her thigh muscles. Isla’s laugh was the most distinguishable and she pushed the door open slowly, trying not to startle anyone.

The wholesome sight of the three of them sitting on the floor surrounded by stuffed animals was enough to melt Natasha’s heart and she smiled softly, leaning on the doorframe waiting for someone to notice her. And strangely it wasn’t Y/n but Isla who jumped up first, almost stumbling over Fanny to get to her Mama with a shriek.

Natasha caught her daughter in her arms and pressed kisses all over her face, warmth flooding her body. She would never feel complete when she was away from her girls.

Y/n quickly joined in, wanting the same cuddles. Natasha crouched down and stroked their cheeks before pausing slightly, squinting. Something wasn’t right and Yelena’s overly wide grin didn’t help her suspicions either. She stroked Isla’s hair with a chuckle and straightened up, her back aching from bending down so much.

“Did you girls have a good day?” She asked, watching as Y/n settled back on the floor beside Fanny. “You both look happier than when I left.”

“We played soccer and beat Aunt Lena!” Y/n piped up. “I scored all the goals.”

“No, I helped too!”

Natasha didn’t miss the way Yelena nudged her nieces or how their eyes went as wide as saucers. But the redhead just chuckled and took a seat on Isla’s bed, her legs slightly aching from standing all day.

Isla stood in front of her, clearly torn with where to go. Natasha knew she wanted to sit on her knee but watched as she settled beside Yelena again. It was impressive, Natasha gave her that much. Very dedicated to the cause.

“You did? Well done baby. Have you behaved today?”

“They’ve been angels, sestra, as usual. It’s only you they are bad for.” Yelena had a shit eating grin and it took everything in Natasha not to launch a pillow at her head. But she could not condone aggression around her violent children anyway before Y/n got any more ideas.

“Is that right?”

“Mama you had blue hair!”

If looks could kill, Yelena would be well and truly dead. If there was one thing Natasha hated, it was pictures of her younger self. She made far too many questionable decisions and went through one too many boxes of hair dye, so seeing pictures was a no no. Not even Wanda had seen many. And now her daughters had seen the worst ones which she was never going to live down.

“Yelena Belova… what did you do.”

The blonde just shrugged and jumped up, causing Fanny to do the same. The queen of avoiding things. “Who wants Aunt Yelena’s special mac and cheese?”

The twins both cheered and raced out of the room after their aunt, leaving Natasha slightly bewildered in the blue and white room. There were times where Natasha convinced herself that Yelena wasn’t all that bad, and then she pulled stunts like this and put herself back on top of Natasha’s hit list. But that was never going to change.

“What else did you show my kids, Yelena?”

No reply. Typical.

Natasha truly was outnumbered when her sister was around. But then she remembered what was really going on and a small laugh escaped Natasha’s mouth. Adorable, really.

Y/n and Isla helped as much as they could to make dinner, including standing on a chair to stir the boiling noodles and dumping the cheese packets in when instructed. Natasha was banished to setting the table after Isla gave her a lecture about her inability to cook, clearly something else she’d picked up from Yelena. But Natasha yielded, setting the cutlery down with a shake of her head. The longer it went on for, the more she tried not to laugh. And the more slip ups she noticed.

Like how Isla wouldn’t stand on the chair because she was scared of heights, even though yesterday she climbed the largest tree in the backyard. And how Y/n stood still when waiting for her turn, when she’d usually be twirling around with her apron. Natasha could only watch as Yelena heavily emphasised their names and the twins burst into giggles whenever they answered her. It was adorable to see and she couldn’t wait to tell Wanda.

They ate in silence, which was usually the case when mac and cheese was involved. And the girls did very well, Natasha gave them that, until she pulled an admittedly evil move.

“How about cookies?” Yelena asked once plates were cleared and the table was wiped down.

“It sounds good to me,” Natasha agreed, grabbing the tin and sitting back at the table. “One each, you too Yelena. And Y/n, you know the rules. You got in trouble today so you don’t get a cookie.”

She slid the tin to Isla who happily reached in until a protest sounded from the girl next to her.

“That’s not fair! That’s my cookie!”

Isla had already shoved her cookie in her mouth at this point, the crumbs sticking to her cheeks and the front of her shirt. She grinned happily, thankful she agreed to Yelena’s scheming plot.

“Mama! That’s mine!”

Natasha shook her head. “No Y/n, those aren’t the rules, you know that.”

Isla smacked her palm against the tabletop. “I’m not Y/n! She is!” She pointed at her sister harshly, who was licking the crumbs from her fingertips. “We switched!”

“Isla!” Y/n whined, “You weren’t supposed to spoil it!”

“I’m not losing my cookie, give it to me!”

“No,” Y/n said with a grin. “Mama said you can’t have one, so you can’t.”

“I hate you!”

Natasha watched the scene unfold, with Yelena looking more and more concerned. The blonde turned to her sister for help, but was met with only a smirk and a raised eyebrow.

“Do something!” Yelena hissed, but Natasha shook her head.

“Absolutely not,” Natasha said, leaning back in her chair. “It’s your mess, you fix it.”

“Tell her Aunt Lena!” Isla cried, tears threatening to spill. “Tell her I’m Isla! I’m not Y/n.”

Whilst Isla was nearing a breakdown, Y/n’s mean streak thickened. “These cookies really are good.”

“Mama please!”

Natasha rounded the table and placed a kiss on Isla’s forehead before passing her the biggest cookie from the tin. “Here baby, you’re okay,” she soothed, gently wiping her tears. “But your Aunt is an idiot. I did know it was you all along Isl’s, I’m sorry baby.” She picked her daughter up and set her on her lap, holding her close as she ate her cookie.

Yelena’s mouth fell open. “You knew?”

“From the moment ‘Isla’ ran to me first.” Yelena hit the table, muttering ‘dammit’ under her breath. “A mother always know, Yel. Always.”

#double the trouble au #natasha romanoff #marvel #fanfic #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff fic #natasha romanoff daughter #natasha romanoff x daughter!reader #wandanat x daughter!reader #wanda maximoff x daughter!reader #wanda maximoff #yelena belova

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capseycartwright · 3 months ago

Text

miss me, but let me go

“I have - I’ve carried this grief, for you, for so long, and I know I can’t let it all go, because a part of me is always going to grieve for you,” Eddie paused. “But I can’t feel like this forever, Shannon. I don’t think you’d want me to, either. So - I need to let some of it go. Okay? I need to - I need to be myself now. For me, and for Christopher. I want to be me."

On November 1, Eddie builds an altar for Shannon and finds a way to let her go.

ao3 link

November 1. The date is not one Eddie is likely to ever forget. Even before Shannon died, Dia de los Muertos wasn’t a holiday he ever missed - as a child, he would help his abuelo make their altar every year, a picture of his abuelo front-and-centre, Edmundo Diaz Senior, the man he’d been named for, looking sharp in his suit as he looked out from the glass picture frame where he’d lived all of Eddie’s life. He’d never met his grandfather - only carried his name.

Over the years, more faces found a home on the altar - friends, and family, time a fickle thing and the only certainty about life that it ended. Death was familiar, a constant in a world Eddie felt like he could never quite figure out.

After Shannon died -

The first November 1 after she died, Eddie built his own altar for the first time, explaining the tradition to Christopher. They had done it every year since, Christopher’s face in a set line as he made sure everything was absolutely perfect. No less than his mother deserved, Eddie knew.

Shannon hadn’t grown up with the traditions of All Saints and All Souls, but she’d embraced them wholly when she and Eddie had gotten married, making the altar herself when Eddie wasn’t there. It felt right to honour her with the traditions she had loved herself. That was why Eddie had taken to adding a picture of Shannon’s mother to the altar too, when she died the year after Shannon did. Breast cancer, they’d said, but Eddie knew heartbreak had been the thing that had pushed her over the edge.

Every year, Eddie celebrated Shannon, and her mother, his grandfather, the people he’d served with who had died -

Except this year.

Eddie felt bad. Really, he did - he was going to build the altar himself, but when his dad had texted a picture of the Diaz family altar, Shannon front and centre, Eddie couldn’t quite bring himself to make his own. Shannon was being remembered - that was what mattered. He’d gone to her grave instead, only half listening as the priest had said mass over the graveyard, praying for the salvation of the souls who were buried there.

Grief was a funny old beast, Eddie knew. Grief had made him do crazy things - grief had driven his son to Texas, for crying out loud. The grief didn’t hit standing by her grave, but it did when dusk descended over Eddie’s house, and the absence of an altar began to feel like one of the worst things he’d done amongst a year of terrible decision-making.

Maybe he should have taken Buck up on his offer of coming over to make an altar with him, but Eddie had asked enough of his best friend in the last four months. Eddie knew Tommy had bought them tickets for some movie Buck was dying to see, and as much as Eddie was a near-professional third wheel now, he didn’t think he’d make a good addition to the back row of their local movie theatre.

Eddie winced as he looked at the candle he’d swiped from the dining table. “It’s cedarwood,” he said, apologetic as he lit it, setting the candle down in front of the framed picture of Shannon that lived on their fireplace. “I know you hated cedarwood, but I’m working with what I’ve got here, Shan.”

Eddie pressed his cheek against his folded arms, taking one, two, three shaky breaths. “I really struggled after you left, Shannon. I don’t think I really even realised how much until now - and it’s not just because you were gone, but you were gone and you wanted a divorce, and I - suddenly, I was never going to get answers.”

He’d been talking about Shannon a lot in therapy, lately, unpacking all his complicated feelings during his excruciating weekly hour with Frank.

“I don’t know if I even wanted to stay married to you,” Eddie admitted, the candle flickering in the growing dark of his living room. That was terrifying to admit out loud - that even if she had stayed alive, he and Shannon wouldn’t have made it work. There were a thousand reasons why, and Eddie could sit, and list them all, but one was more important than the others.

“I think I’m gay, Shannon,” Eddie had never said it out loud before, despite the thought never quite leaving his mind, Pandora’s box open, now. “If you were here, I bet you’d have such a laugh with that - not like, in a bad way. Just - I think you’d find it funny, that your mom’s gaydar was right after all.”

He couldn’t help but laugh at the thought himself. Shannon’s mom had been the bitchiest woman he’d ever met, and Eddie loved her for it.

“I’ve made such a mess of things,” Eddie paused. “But with you, most of all. I’m sorry - for my part in it all. I thought I was doing the right thing, joining the army. I just wanted to take care of you and Chris, and I didn’t see any other way out. I know it was the wrong choice - but I really thought it was the right one. You know?”

Shannon’s picture stayed silent.

“I have - I’ve carried this grief, for you, for so long, and I know I can’t let it all go, because a part of me is always going to grieve for you,” Eddie paused. For the life she might have had, if not for the car crash - Eddie sometimes liked to indulge himself and think of an alternative life where Shannon had survived, where they got divorced, and learned how to co-parent, and maybe they found their way back to being friends. It was a nice thought.

Eddie wiped roughly at his eyes. “But I can’t feel like this forever, Shannon. I don’t think you’d want me to, either. So - I need to let some of it go. Okay? I need to - I need to be myself now. For me, and for Christopher. I want to be me.”

With a shaky hand, Eddie pressed a kiss to the framed picture, setting Shannon back down with the candle. It was a half-assed altar, and somehow, that made Eddie feel worse. He scrambled to his feet, heading for his bedroom, and the box of Shannon’s belongings he knew was stashed at the back of his wardrobe. He hadn’t kept much for himself - most of it was for Christopher - but he had a few things. There was a necklace in there, he knew that Eddie had bought her for their first wedding anniversary. It was a cheap thing, because they were always broke, but it was something of hers - it would make it a more acceptable offering.

Eddie couldn’t help the breath that hitched in his throat as he spotted what was in his bedroom. A butterfly, resting on his pillowcase, on the side he always slept on. “Hey, little guy,” he whispered softly, not wanting to startle the tiny creature. His abuela loved butterflies - they were spirits of the people you loved, who had left, coming back to visit. Eddie felt slightly ridiculous, but he said it anyway. “Shannon?”

The butterfly didn’t move.

“I’m so glad Christopher isn’t here, because he would really think I’ve lost it,” Eddie crouched by the side of his bed, holding out a finger. “Hey. Is this your way of telling me it’s okay to let you go? Did you hear all of that?”

The butterfly moved, tiny wings fluttering as it came to land on Eddie’s outstretched finger.

“I hope that’s a yes,” Eddie knew tears were streaming down his cheeks, now, but he didn’t want to freak the butterfly out by wiping them away. “How did you get in here, eh? None of the windows are open.”

If Eddie Diaz believed in a higher power, still, he’d blame God - or the universe.

“Let’s get you outside,” Eddie said, and the butterfly flapped, a little, coming to land on the windowsill instead. “Yeah? You’re ready to go?”

The butterfly flapped in response again.

“I think I’m ready to let you go, this time,” Eddie admitted, carefully unlatching the window. “We’re going to be okay, me and Christopher. I promise. You can go. You don’t need to worry about us.”

The butterfly seemed to pause, for a second, before it flew out the open window, disappearing into the beginnings of the evening. Eddie wasn’t sure how long he stood there, tears pouring down his cheeks, rolling off the curve of his chin and onto his shirt, but the next thing he knew, he could hear -

“Buck?”

“Eddie! You’re a firefighter - how long have you left that candle unattended, huh? Eddie - Eddie, where are you, man?”

Buck appeared in the doorway of Eddie’s bedroom, a family-sized bag of sour patch kids tucked under one arm. “Do I need to teach you the basics of fire safety all over again?” he huffed, pausing as he noticed Eddie’s tears. “Eddie - you okay?”

“Yeah,” Eddie offered his best friend a teary smile. For the first time, Eddie might actually mean that yes. “I’m okay. There - there was a butterfly,” he explained, gesturing at the window vaguely. “I had to let it out.”

“A butterfly?” Buck looked confused.

“My abuela always said butterflies were the spirits of people who’ve died,” Eddie explained. “I lit a candle for Shannon, and there was a butterfly just sitting on my pillow, when I came in here. It’s…” he paused. “It’s stupid.”

Buck’s face softened. ‘It’s not stupid,” he shook his head. “You think it was Shannon?”

Eddie glanced at the window again. “I hope it was,” he admitted, taking a deep breath before he closed the window. That in itself felt like symbolism, Eddie decided - a closing of a chapter he should have let go a long time ago. That’s what he needed it to be, at least. “Wait - aren’t you meant to be on a date?”

Bcuk shrugged. “We changed the tickets to tomorrow,” he explained, holding up the bag of candy. “You said you weren’t going to make an altar, and I didn’t want to let you skip out on it. These were her favourite, right?”

Eddie could cry all over again. Buck, like Shannon, hadn’t grown up with Dia de los Muertos, but here he was, with a bag of Eddie’s dead wife’s favourite candy, ready to sit in Eddie’s grief with him. Eddie wasn’t sure what he’d done in a previous life to deserve a friend like Evan Buckley, but he thanked whatever God or universe was listening for giving him Buck anyway.

“She’d eat so many she’d give herself a stomach-ache,” Eddie grinned, and the memory didn’t hurt, the way it used to, the grief a dull ache that he could grow around, now. He leaned into the embrace Buck offered, breathing in the familiar cedarwood scent of Buck’s favourite cologne. “Thanks. For being here.”

“Nowhere I’d rather be,” Buck hummed, pressing a ridiculous, loud, smacking kiss to the top of Eddie’s head. Eddie loved him. “But I’m buying you one of those electric candle warmers if you’re going to keep leaving candles unattended, Eddie.”

Eddie was mostly listening as he let Buck guide him back to the living room, the candle still flickering golden in front of Shannon’s picture. It was the same one he’d put on her memorial programme - bright, and beautiful, just like she’d always been when she was alive.

Buck grinned, as he set a piece of candy in front of her picture. “Berry,” he explained. “My favourite,” he added, tossing a handful of the sour sweets into his own mouth.

They sat, the television playing reruns of a procedural in the background, eating candy until their stomachs hurt, the candle burning all the way to the end.

The butterfly didn’t come back.

Buck stayed.

Eddie was ready to move on.

(Buck stayed.)

#911 abc #eddie diaz #evan buckley #its pre relationship buddie but mostly its about eddie and grief #in which i ramble #in which lorna writes fic

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00valentina-writes00 · 8 days ago

Text

✞⛧ Sevika/Abby/Ellie: Love letters ✞⛧

Warnings: fluff

𝕊𝕖𝕧𝕚𝕜𝕒

Hey Brat,

I don’t know what you want me to say in this. You should know by now that I’m not one for long speeches or anything sappy. But since you’re still here, I guess I’ll give you something to chew on.

You’re mine. That’s the only thing you need to remember. No one else matters. No one else will even get close to you while I’m around. I don’t care if you think it’s possessive or crazy, but you’re not going anywhere. And don’t even try to argue with me about it. You wouldn’t win.

It’s cute how you think you need to take care of me sometimes. You’re not the only one who knows how to survive, but I’ll admit—your little touches, your care, it’s not the worst thing in the world. But don’t go thinking I need you. You’re not my damn therapist, and I’m not your project. But I’ll let you fuss over me anyway, since you seem to enjoy it. I’d kill anyone who made you feel less than adored, so don’t get any bright ideas about being too independent.

You’ve got a good thing going, so don’t fuck it up. I might not say it outright, but I’d burn this whole damn city down before I let anything happen to you. So yeah, maybe I’m a little soft on you. But don’t get any funny ideas. You’re not gonna change me, and you’ll never hear me say anything cheesy, like those damn love words. That’s not me.

But in the quiet moments, when you’re all tangled up with me, I’m not thinking about anyone else. Just you. Keep that in mind next time you get all worried.

So, there. That’s your “love letter,” for whatever the hell that means to you. Take it or leave it.

-Sevika

•|||——————————————————————|||•

𝔸𝕓𝕓𝕪

Hey,

I’m not great with words. Never have been. So, you’ll have to bear with me.

I’m not some romantic, and I don’t do the whole love-letter thing. But I guess I owe you this, if only because you’re the one thing in this messed-up world that’s made sense. You’re the constant, the one person who’s been there even when I didn’t deserve it. I don’t know if you get that, or if you’ll ever really understand how much that means to me.

I’m not good at talking about feelings—hell, I’m not even sure what they are half the time. But I know this: I trust you. I trust you in a way I haven’t trusted anyone in a long time. And yeah, maybe that’s not saying much, but I’m not exactly the type to let people close. You’ve earned your place, and I’m not just letting anyone in. So, don’t take that lightly.

I won’t sugarcoat it—I’ve made my share of mistakes. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to make things right, but I’m trying. I’m fighting for something, for us, and I don’t know where that’ll take me, but I know I’ll keep pushing forward as long as you’re by my side. You’re the reason I keep going when it’s easier to quit. You make it worth it.

I’m not perfect, and I don’t expect you to be either. We’re both broken in our own ways, and that’s okay. I just want you to know that, no matter what happens, I’ll fight for you. You mean more to me than I can say.

So, yeah. Maybe not the flowery words you expected. But that’s the truth, and it’s the best I can do.

<3 Abby

•|||——————————————————————|||•

𝔼𝕝𝕝𝕚𝕖

Hey you,

I don’t even know where to start, but I guess that’s pretty typical for me. I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about what to say, how to say it, and if I even have the guts to send something like this. But here it is, I guess.

I’m not great with words—never really was. I tend to get stuck in my head, and even when I have something I want to say, it comes out… wrong. But I hope you understand that I mean every word, even if it’s clumsy or awkward.

There’s something about you that makes everything feel… right. Even on the days when I’m a mess, when I forget to text back or I zone out for a bit because my head’s too loud—whenever I’m with you, I feel like I can breathe. And I don’t know what I did to deserve that, but I’m grateful for it. I’m grateful for you.

You make me want to be better, even if I don’t always show it in the best ways. I know I can be a little weird and I overthink things like a lot, but the truth is, I’m just trying to make sure I don’t mess things up with you. You mean more to me than I’m probably letting on, and sometimes that freaks me out.

I catch myself looking at you sometimes, like I can’t help it, and I know I probably look like an idiot when I get all flustered, but it’s because you’re… I don’t know. You’re just everything to me. It’s hard to explain, but I think you already know.

When I’m with you, I don’t feel like such a loser anymore. I don’t have to be perfect or say the right things or try to impress anyone. You make me feel like I don’t have to be anything other than just… me. And that’s probably the best gift anyone could give me.

So, yeah. I guess I just wanted to tell you that. You mean the world to me, more than you know. And I’m sorry for all the weirdness, the moments when I get quiet or lost in my thoughts. It’s just… I think about you a lot.

I’ll stop before I get all awkward and ruin this, but I hope you understand.

I love you. And I’m so damn lucky to have you.

Love,

Ellie

•|||——————————————————————|||•

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crescenthistory · 4 months ago

Text

you are my favourite silence

Pairing: Paul Atreides x Reader

Summary: Jessica's lecture and the eventual nightmare-catalysed-reunion, from Paul's tortured, yearning perspective. Based on "in the silence, there is an us".

Words: 3.6k

Warnings: not proofread, angst, hurt/comfort, references to nightmares, intense yearning, descriptions of anxiety and panic, feeling like the world is demanding too much of you, being super in love but not able to say it out loud, cuddling, lady jessica being a c*ckblock/heartbreaker

***

In the face of change, of being pushed into the final phase of growing up, Paul wanted to cling to you like a lifeline. To the gentle rhythm that once existed between him and you, the one he felt becoming more and more unbalanced as the world around dumped expectations on you both. He almost had not noticed it happening at first. You had grown up beside him, a constant presence, and yet now, each time he glanced your way, he was increasingly aware of what could be taken from him. He was only just beginning to grasp how much he cared for you, and the idea that you might feel like you did not belong here, or worse, being shown you do not, made something twist deep inside him.

Sitting beside you in the library, Paul could hear his mother’s words – sharp and pointed, even as he believed they were meant to guide. His whole body felt tense, not because of Jessica’s talk of duty, or the future he would soon shoulder, but because of you. Because he knew what her gaze did to you, how it picked at the part of you that never felt enough. When Jessica moved on to discuss personal relationships, the weight of her underlying meaning came pressing down, and Paul could barely keep his attention on her. His eyes flicked toward you, searching for any sign that her words were cutting too deep. Even when scolded himself, all he could think about is how it would affect you.

He hated this. Hated the way his mother’s eyes would linger on you, as though you were being measured and found wanting. It wasn’t true, but he knew you felt it. He could see it in the way you lowered your head, trying to hide from the sharpness of her tone. His jaw clenched. You were not some distraction, you were his best friend, and that should count for something. You were the reason he could breathe when it all felt either too small or too big.

When the speech was finally over and Jessica left them alone, Paul let out a breath, half-realising he did not listen to a word she said towards the end. The silence between the two of you felt heavy, thicker than it should have been. You should have been able to laugh it off together, snicker at his mother’s dramatics, but he knew you would not do that anymore. He risked a glance at you. His heart sinking at the way you avoided looking back.

“She didn’t mean it like that,” he said, voice low, unsure how else to cut through the tension. When you didn’t respond, he moved closer, needing to bridge the growing distance. “She’s just worried. That’s all. My mother –”

“Your mother is always worried,” you cut in sharply, and Paul flinched. The tone in your voice was one you rarely ever used on him, only in your worst moments. He knew what it meant. You were pulling away, not just from the conversation, but from him. He could feel it. He wanted to stop it, wanted to reach out and pull you back to where you belonged, beside him. “Maybe she has a point. I’ve been distracting you. I shouldn’t... I shouldn’t keep coming to you.”

No.

Paul’s chest tightened as you began to move, began to slip from his grasp. Before he could even think, his hands moved on their own, gently but firmly gripping yours, desperate to ground you. “No,” he said aloud, his voice more forceful than he intended. “You haven’t been distracting me. You’ve... you’ve been keeping me sane. It’s not the same thing.”

He didn’t have the words. Not really. Not for what he was trying to say. All he needed was for you to understand, to know how important you were to him, but no words were worthy in the moment. His mother could never see it the way he did, she was too caught up in her visions for his future to realise when the only future he cared about was right in front of his nose. She didn’t understand how all the qualities that could make him a good duke were the ones you brought out of him.

He could see your brows twitch in the way they do when you are holding back tears. “But your mother thinks –”

“I don’t care what my mother thinks.”

The words tumbled out before he could stop them, and for a brief moment, Paul felt a surge of panic. He blinked, startled by his own admission that he had not realised rang so true for him, but he didn’t let go of your hands. His grip tightened slightly, and he looked at you, willing you to understand all he could not say. “I don’t care what she thinks about the time we spend together,” he continued, trying to keep his voice level. “She doesn’t understand. She doesn’t know what it’s like to feel like you’re drowning, like the world’s pressing in from every side, and you’re just. Alone.”

She doesn’t know you’re the lifeboat.

“Whenever I’m with you, it’s the only time I don’t feel that way,” he confessed, his voice raw. He was laying it all out, unsure if he was saying the right things or making things worse, but he couldn’t stop himself. It felt like he was pleading a case. “You’re not a distraction. You’re the only thing that keeps me steady.”

He saw the way your eyes briefly squeezed shut, the blush still remaining in your cheeks, the slightly quivering curve of your mouth, all that internal struggle on your beautiful face. It tore him apart. You wanted to argue, he could see that, but something held you back. Paul wasn’t sure if that was better or worse. He felt you giving up instead of giving in, as you softly said, “We just need to be more careful.”

Careful. That word grated against his every instinct. Paul didn’t want careful. He wanted you, the way you had always been – close, inseparable.

But then you said, “We can’t keep hiding away in each other’s rooms. We can’t... we can’t keep acting like kids.”

Paul’s heart sank, his body sagging slightly as he was giving up, too. Not on you, on himself, on his situation. He rubbed at his face, trying to shake the helplessness threatening to take over. You were right, but it felt painfully wrong.

“But we’re not acting like kids,” he muttered, trying to keep you from slipping too far away.

“Aren’t we?” you whispered, your voice filled with something that sounded like heartbreak. “We’re literally sneaking into each other’s beds in the middle of the night, Paul. We’re still pretending like nothing’s changed.”

Paul didn’t have a response. Not immediately, too caught up with the ache in his chest as his disturbance turned existential. Why must sharing a close connection with someone, being tethered by someone, be a thing of only childhood? He felt he needed it more and more the older he got. Yet, he knew better than anyone all he had to do and all he had to be, and that it was time to step up to the challenge. But that didn’t mean he wanted to lose this, lose you, at least this part of you it felt he had always possessed. The idea that things had to change, that you couldn’t be the way you had always been – it was unbearable.

“Nothing has changed though,” he finally said, aiming for conviction. “Not between us.”

Deep down, Paul knew you were right. Everything had changed, just not in the way you were currently discussing, and he didn’t know what to do with it. He was not ready to face it.

When you stood up to leave, the panic flared again in his chest. He wanted to reach for you, to stop you, to pull you back down beside him. Show you why you had to stay. He did anything but, he could only watch as you walked away, leaving him behind with the oppressive atmosphere of the library. His finger tips lingered on your seat as he clung to your promise: I will see you tomorrow. Even that small promise felt like a lifeline made of plastic.

Paul stared at the spot where you left, the weight of the future settling heavily on his shoulders.

The following weeks, Paul did everything in his power to bury the gnawing unease that twisted inside him. He cherry-picked from his continuing lectures from his mother, trying to keep only the positives and leave out all the doom everyone seemed to hand him these days. The tension that hung between you only worsened in the silence of the castle’s long nights. You had always shared a restlessness after dark, a sort of curse that made sleep seem impossible unless you were together. But after his mother’s warnings about appearances and responsibilities, Paul felt obligated to put distance between you, to keep his emotions in check. At least for as long as you claimed that was what you wanted, too.

God, he hated it.

At first, he tried to do everything right, tried to focus more on his studies, his duties, his pretenses. He could not afford to slip up, not when he was being watched so closely, not when he was meant to prove himself a future Duke. But the more he tried to be the person he was expected to be, the more he felt himself, Paul, not the future duke of House Atreides, unraveling.

Every moment spent apart from you gnawed at him, like a thread slowly being pulled loose from the fabric of his mind. His concentration splintered; during meetings, his eyes trailed to the door, wondering if you would ever walk in, during training, his movements felt sluggish, his mind always wandering to whether you were okay, whether you missed him too.

The longer you kept your distance, the harder it became to focus on anything but you and the looming elephant that was your friendship.

He soaked up every interaction you had like a parched man trying to survive in the desert. Even something as simple as sitting beside you during meals or brushing past you in the hallways felt like a lifeline. He clung to those moments, storing them away like precious memories, replaying them in his mind when he found himself alone. He knew you still saw each other a relatively normal amount, the amount usual friends dedicate to each other – but it was far from enough.

During it all you kept up your facade too well for Paul’s state. It was like you practiced it all when you could not sleep at night, you were polite, composed, like nothing had changed between you. Paul knew you better, of course. He could see through it, see the cracks forming beneath the surface. The bags forming under your eyes, the strain on your smiles, the flickering of your gaze when met by any member of the Atreides family now. You were just as affected by this distance as he was, but you were better at hiding it from everyone but him. It only made him want to reach out more, to break through that wall, to remind you that you didn’t have to carry this alone.

Paul sat beside you at the long wooden table in the dining hall, trying to act as though nothing had changed. The usual hum of formalities and business between his tutors, his mother, and the few remaining nobles blurred into a background buzz. All of it felt irrelevant compared to the tension sitting between you and him. He tried to tell himself the change was not that large, out of all the seats in the room, you were still sat together.

He sneaked a glance at you from the corner of his eye. You were sitting perfectly still, your posture as composed and graceful as you had been trained to be, eyes downcast as you picked at the meal in front of you. On the surface, you looked calm, indifferent even, but Paul could see it so easily. The way your fingers gripped your knife a little too tight, the way your shoulders tensed as if trying to make yourself smaller, invisible. It’s not the same.

Despite his appetite having long since vanished, Paul tried to take a bite of his food. Beside him, you sipped your water, eyes flicking up just once to meet his before darting away again. The briefest connection, but it hit him like a shockwave. He was desperate for more of you, the real you, not this version that was carefully packaged to meet the standards of the room.

A thought ran through his head and before he could compose himself, Paul’s foot nudged yours lightly under the table. A small, almost childlike gesture. His heart raced, wondering if you would acknowledge it, if you would look at him like you used to. When you glanced his way, a flicker of a smile tugged at the corner of your mouth, a sign that you were still there, but it withered away fast.

You straightened in your seat, breaking eye contact, your attention turning back to your plate. A clear signal that you couldn’t do this, not here. Not now.

Paul’s stomach twisted, and he gripped his fork tighter, his knuckles white against the silver. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. There had been no distance between you before. You used to laugh together, share inside jokes over dinners like this. You used to sneak glances that said everything without needing words. Now, there was just this unbearable restraint. The longer it stretched on, the more suffocating it became.

He wanted so desperately to just be your best friend again, like when you were younger, when things were simple. When sharing a bed was not plagued by conventions or the expectations of his mother. Back then, it had been about adventure and laughter. Now it was about survival for poor Paul, it was all he needed to secure him. He wanted you to know how much he cared, how much he needed you.

He remained silent.

When night fell, it became unbearable. Alone in his room, Paul felt the weight of everything pressing down on him—the responsibilities, the expectations, the growing distance between the two of you. Sleep evaded him. Each night felt longer than the last, and the silence of the castle, once comforting, now felt suffocating.

He thought of you constantly.

He wondered if you were having nightmares, the way you always did when there were no storms to distract you. You never reacted well to the stillness of nights like this, and Paul knew it. He knew you too well.

Should I go to her?

The thought flickered in his mind more than once, the worry gnawing at him more than usual, but something held him back. His mother’s words still lingered in the air between you, but more importantly your words. You asked for space, even if the reasons felt as tragic to him as they did. He could not risk making things worse, could not risk losing you completely by overstepping. Nevertheless, the longer he lay there, staring up at the ceiling, the more unbearable the thought of doing nothing became.

The hours drifted on, whisking away into the night air streaming in through his cracked open window. He had zeroed in on the sound in hopes it could form a lullaby, but to no avail. In the silence of his room, he heard footsteps in the hallway.

Before he could finish thinking, he was up and out of bed, hand on the door. He was fully expecting to open the door and be met with a wall of nothingness, forced to face how truly delerious he was becoming, but the possibility of any other outcome made him throw the door open without hesitation.

His pounding heart all but lit up as he saw you standing in the doorway, almost hidden in the darkness. Surprise was etched onto your features and your hand was half-raised, presumably to knock on the door. A relieved smile made it onto your lips, and Paul briefly wondered whether you were aware, or if it was instinct. He breathed your name as a silent thank you to whatever forces brought you back to his doorstep.

In the half-shadows, you looked haunted, and he immediately stepped to the side to make room for you to step back into his world. He had been waiting for you. Hoping, somehow, that you would come to him, that you still needed him the way he needed you.

You slipped inside quietly, and Paul closed the door behind you, sealing the two of you away from everything – his mother, the expectations, the fear that had been building between you for weeks. His chest tightened as he watched you, taking in the way your shoulders tensed, the way your eyes flicked to his like you weren’t sure if you should be here.

Paul had never been more certain of anything. He needed you here.

As if your muscle memory controlled your actions, you moved toward the bed, and Paul followed hot on your heels, not willing to let you get too far away from him. There were no words, but there didn’t need to be. You both knew what this was.

As he watched you climb into his bed, Paul felt something settle in his chest, something that had been fraying ever since the distance had started growing between you. He slid in beside you, immediately wrapping his arm as tightly around your waist as viable and pulling you close.

The quiet of his room that had just felt so suffocating now felt like a refuge. You were his anchor, his constant. For the first time in what felt like forever, the world outside didn’t feel so heavy.

He heard your breathing slow as you nestled against him, your head resting on his chest. Without any real thought behind the action, he buried his nose in your hair and breathed you in, feeling every part of his body that was touching yours. He could feel the tremors in your body start to fade, and with them, the knot of worry that had been coiling tighter and tighter inside him began to loosen.

“Are you okay?” Paul whispered, his voice soft, almost afraid of shattering the moment.

You nodded against him, but Paul could feel the weakness in the movement, could feel the words you did not say. In response he held you tighter, his thumb tracing slow, gentle circles on your arm, offering comfort in the only way he knew how.

“I’m glad you came,” he murmured, his voice so quiet it almost didn’t reach his own ears. He had not realized how much he needed to say it until the words were out. “I wanted to come to you, but—” He trailed off, guilt wracking his mind while trying to somehow silence yours. His hand began to trace up and down your bare arm, needing to feel the warmth of your skin to remind himself that you were real, that this moment was real.

“I know,” you whispered, your voice hoarse with emotion. “I wanted to come sooner.”

Paul didn’t say anything, but his heart ached at the truth in your words. You had wanted to come sooner, but something had kept you back. The same thing that had kept him pacing his room, wondering if he should break the unspoken rules and go to you. Although he had always known, being told that the distance was killing you too felt oddly good.

For a long time, neither of you spoke. The silence between you now felt different, like the quiet after a storm, when the air is charged but peaceful. Paul’s hand drifted up to gently stroke your hair, the motion instinctual, as his other hand held your waist. It was one of the most intimate embraces you had had, and it felt so right, to the point where he did not even question it. He wanted to offer you more than comfort, more than just a place to escape your nightmares. He wanted to give you the world, guaranteed safety. Not just a reprieve or a shelter, but a true home, a good life. But the words weren’t there yet. He didn’t know how to say the way he cared for you, that it was more than just… caring. That you were the only person who had ever made him feel like everything might be okay.

Instead, he whispered, “I’ll always be here. I swear it.” It was close enough for now.

You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his in the dim candlelight, burning low. For a moment, Paul’s breath caught in his throat. He saw everything in that look – your fear, your doubt, your hope. Your care. He craved to kiss you, to close the distance that still felt like it hung between you. Instead, he pressed his lips to the top of your head, a tender, quiet gesture that said everything he couldn’t yet.

Neither of you spoke after that. You simply held each other, the world outside disappearing as you both drifted into a peaceful sleep. Paul finally felt safe.

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jockbroski34 · 1 year ago

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The Jockrooms

I hated gym class. I wasn't athletic and I didn’t like playing sports. Worst of all, I was stuck with the dumb jocks in my class. Today, one of them, Kyle, threw a dodgeball right at my face. The force was immense. As the ball collided with me with the speed of a bullet train, I felt myself lose my balance and I tumbled onto the ground. I sat on the ground in a daze, my head spinning from the raw power exerted from the ball. If he threw it any harder, I’d be sent to the nurse.

Kyle was one of the tallest guys in the school, towering at an impressive 6’4, and he was just as strong as he was tall. He was huge and he made sure that everyone knew it. He was proof that God picked favorites in terms of genetics. The guy had pretty much everything, except for a working brain. He had little problem asserting dominance on those he viewed as weaker than him. To him, I was yet another easy target with my wimpy constitution.

His jock friends cheered and high-fived him for how savagely he destroyed me. Our gym teacher did nothing to discourage his aggressive behavior, but I wouldn’t expect any less from the football coach. Those were his boys after all. They could probably get away with murder and he’d still cover for them. I sat down on the sidelines, covering my swollen cheek, as I was forced to watch Kyle and his goons dominate the rest of my team.

After what felt like an eternity, the teacher dismissed us to go change and I was relieved. I was still covering my cheek, bruised from the dodgeball that was lobbed at me. I sat down on the bench and opened my locker to change my clothes. I felt a hand bump me as Kyle and his entourage walked past me.

“Sorry about that, bro,” he said, in a condescending manner. “You’re supposed to dodge the ball, not get hit by it. That’s why they call it dodgeball.” I had to admit, that’s the smartest he’s ever sounded.

“Whatever, you dumb jock,” I scoffed, ignoring his “advice” as he and his jock friends walked by. I wasn’t sure if they were snickering at his lame attempt for a joke or at me, but I didn’t really care. I doubt that they had much for brains either, with only sports and sex being the only thing keeping their testosterone-ridden minds running.

I glared over at Kyle while he was changing. I had to give him credit. He was very handsome, and he knew it, but that just made me hate him even more. He was a guy who people either loved or hated, but his arrogant fuckboy attitude would be a turn-off for anyone who wasn’t as shallow as him. I began to wonder why he had to be the one gifted with such a nice body. If I was as strong as him, what would I do?

I finished changing into my regular school attire, but I felt the urge to go to the bathroom. By the time I finished emptying my bladder, the locker room was completely empty. Amidst the ghost town, something caught my eye.

I noticed a door that wasn’t there earlier at the end of the hallway opposite of me. It looked out of place compared to anything I’ve seen in the school. It was crimson with a silver knob. I could hear something coming from the other side of the door, but I couldn’t make out anything. It didn’t sound like construction.

For some reason, I almost felt like it was calling out to me. Even though I needed to get to my next class, I needed to know what was behind the door. My curiosity got the best of me as I put my hand on the handle. It was warm, but not enough to burn my hand. I hesitated for a moment before opening the door and I took my first steps in.

I tried to gather my bearings in this foreign room. The room was very warm, steamy almost, with the smell of sweat lingering in the air. It smelled like our locker room and the heat was far too much, almost like a sauna. I knew I wouldn’t last long in this heat, so I figured it was best to head back to class. I turned around, but instead of reaching for the door, I walked face first into a wall. …This was where I came from, right?

“Hello? Helloooo!” I shouted, hoping someone would come to my rescue. The only voice that responded was my own as my words echoed throughout the room. I sighed. Looks like I’ll have to find my own way out.

I realized that this would not be easy as I looked ahead. I saw rows of lockers all around me and to my horror, the maze stretched out further than I could possibly imagine. This room alone looked larger than the school itself! Why did the school need this many lockers? I decided to follow the line of lockers to find out if there was an exit at the end. I started to hear a buzzing sound, not from the sounds of the lights, but from a different source, along with a voice so quiet that I couldn’t understand what it was saying. I honestly felt like I was hallucinating. Perhaps the ball Kyle threw at me actually put me in a coma.

I followed the row of lockers, the numbers increasing with every step. The bold red lockers complemented the dark walls and white ceiling. As I walked forward, I was tempted by turns and corners, filled with even more lockers. I did not want to risk getting even more lost so I simply walked as close to a straight line as possible. I found myself sweating profusely, drenching my T-shirt and jeans. As I was getting more and more sweaty, I was also getting dehydrated, and there seemed to be no sign of any water fountains. I was surprised that they had not installed any, but that wasn’t even the weirdest thing because nothing made sense here.

My heart sunk as I entered an empty room, a dead end. If whoever built this place had any sense of interior design, there would be a door here. I observed my surroundings, but there seemed to be no sign of any way out. This was going to be longer than I thought. I realized I would have to give an explanation to my teacher about why I was so late, but she would never believe an excuse like this. That is, if I can even find a way out of here. I looked down, surprised to find a bottle of some sort. It looked to be some sort of beverage. It looked to be a sandy brown. I would’ve preferred…no…I desperately needed water, but I would be a fool to ignore any amount of hydration.

I untwisted the cap, and was surprised by the strange smell of the liquid. It didn’t smell foul, but it didn’t smell sweet either. I closed my eyes and took a sip, but I grimaced at the mixture of bitterness and saltiness. The chalky taste lingered in my mouth, but at least it made me feel more alert. Despite the unpleasant taste, I knew it was better than nothing, so I chugged the bottle before dropping it on the ground, making sure not to miss any drop. To my surprise, I felt more full of energy than I ever had before. But for some reason, as my body was starting to digest the drink, I felt as though the room was shrinking before my eyes. Wait, was I getting taller? Maybe this place is messing with my head. To be honest, I wouldn’t mind being a couple inches taller. Maybe Kyle would stop picking on me if I was on his level.

The downside, however, was that I was starting to feel even more sweaty to the point that my clothes were now flooded to the point of no return. I knew they would smell of sweat forever no matter how many times I washed them, so I figured that stripping would be the better option. I can always change back into my gym clothes when I get back. I desperately hoped that I was all alone here so no one would see me in this embarrassing state. I looked at the locker at the end of the room. 1000. The numbers went up to at least 1000? This had to be some kind of sick joke. I was frustrated, but I knew I had to retrace my steps in order to find a way out of here.

A strange idea entered my head after walking into several more dead ends, seemingly out of nowhere. If I went to my own locker, would I find something there? It sounded like a stupid idea since I would miss out on other potential paths, but it just felt right. Besides, I had no other leads. My locker number was 0136. I continued walking back trying to test if my hypothesis was correct. My body was trying to fight back against my exhaustion and my mind was trying to stop itself from being drowned out by the subliminal noise. It felt like this place was messing with me in some way. I had to find a way out of here.

Eventually, my eyes lit up as I turned a corner to find lockers numbered in the 0100s. I felt my body guiding me until I found a locker that appeared to be left open. All of the others were closed, so maybe it had some significance? 0133…0134…0135…0136! I chuckled at the coincidence that my locker would be the one that was different like I knew it would be. Inside, I found yet another one of those same drinks from before, a piece of paper, and a…red jockstrap? I chugged the drink desperate to feel hydrated. For some reason, it tasted better than I remembered. The paper appeared to be some kind of riddle.

“Only this way is right.”

“The combination will show you the light.”

Turns out I was right to come this way. For some reason, it seems like this room was made specifically for me. I was more curious about the second line. “The combination will show you the light.” If my locker number was what led me here, then surely my locker combination would be the next hint. 05-13-34. 51334? I shuddered, knowing that my journey would be a lot longer than I had anticipated. Hopefully this helps me escape from this hell.

I started to wonder who wrote this, but I didn’t even know who built this room in the first place. None of this makes any sense. I might not even be in school anymore. This could be some sort of pocket dimension. I could be dreaming, or I could be in a coma. I looked back in the locker, my eyes fixated on the red jockstrap. It looked like it had already been worn and was a size too big for my skinny frame, but for some reason, I felt an urge to put it on. I stripped out of my dripping boxers and put on the jockstrap.

To my surprise, it actually fit perfectly around my crotch area. I expected to feel uncomfortable, but instead I felt liberated. If only there was a mirror in here. My cock bulged as it stretched out the red fabric. I could’ve sworn it looked bigger, but I knew I was just imagining things. Regardless, I felt faster and full of stamina and virility.

I was not an athlete though. Only the jocks wore jockstraps, and I hated them, but I couldn’t even remember why. Why was I so mad at Kyle earlier? My memories of today started to blur. I couldn’t think straight. I couldn’t remember anything. I had no comprehension of time anymore. Who knows how long I have been in here. I sprinted ahead down the hallway, with a newfound sense of energy that I had never felt before, as I needed to find locker 51334. The heavy sound of my big feet created a steady rhythm, almost like a drum. My body seemed to move on its own like it was on autopilot.

As I ran forward, the audio grew louder, yet the words remained just as shrouded as they were before. Despite that, I felt like I started to understand the words deep down. A weird contradiction, I know. Wherever the source of the noise was, it had to be coming from that direction. I knew in my heart that this was the right way.

I kept on going for what could’ve been hours. Who even knows at this point. The concept of time was foreign to this place. If you told me I was gone for a week, I’d believe you. I kept on finding the same drinks from earlier on benches scattered around. They were the only thing keeping my head in the game. They gave me strength, but eventually I stopped seeing them as I became reminded by the intense heat of the room and of all the dead ends I had run into. I had to be in the 40000s as I began to feel fatigue again and it felt like my body was finally about to give in. My body felt sore and swollen as if I was still recovering from a workout. Workout? Since when did I care about the gym? Maybe this jockstrap was rubbing off on me more than I thought. But I’ll never be like Kyle or the other jocks, I assured myself.

I kept going. My body was pushing itself to the limit, while my mind started to wander. I became worried that I was gonna miss the game that was on tonight. Me and the bros were going to watch it together and I didn’t want to miss it. I couldn’t even comprehend how unnatural these thoughts felt. I should be thinking about playing the new update for my favorite MMO, not watching sports. But bros always come first…

I felt like I was going crazy, like this giant locker room maze was having an effect on me. I was awakened from my trance by a sudden realization. I needed to get to practice. It was like an alarm clock went off in my head. The last thing I wanted was to get dropped from the team due to poor attendance. This renewed sense of urgency was what kept me going instead of passing out from the heat and exhaustion.

At long last, I was greeted by a room that was surprisingly familiar to me. It felt like a second home to me. It was like the actual locker room in my school, but on a larger scale. I looked at the number next to me. 50000. This had to be the right way. I was almost there. The background noise was at its loudest here, but I still could not find any source, but at this point I didn’t mind it. It honestly helped me calm down a little. I checked every locker in this large room, until I saw it. 51334. It was half open, so I pried it open, with a sense of strength that I had never felt before. Inside the locker, I found another note and a larger bottle of the same drink. I gulped every drop down like I had just found an oasis. This one tasted better even compared to the rest. I read the note, hoping to be free from my prison.

“Inside the locker you will hide”

“The way back is on the flipped side”

I had to get in the locker? It was a weird instruction, but I followed the orders. I was surprised I was able to fit into it with my bulky build. I turned to the other side to read what it said. My eyes widened as I felt a sense of dread run down my spine.

“Close the door but don’t be shocked”

“When you wake up, you’ll be a jock!”

Shit, I didn’t want to become one of the jocks! I valued my intelligence too much to stoop down to their level. But it was already too late as the door shut itself on its own and I felt the ground below me vibrate. Was this truly the only way out or was I doomed to join them from the start? I tried to break my way free, but my strength dwindled as my eyes dulled and I passed out from exhaustion.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I woke up on one of the benches to the sound of metal and heavy chatter. To my relief, I was finally back in the real world. The football team was getting ready for practice. Damn, I really did miss the whole day. To make things worse, Kyle was standing right over me. Great. Despite everything though, I actually kinda missed him. That was probably the first sign that something was very wrong with me.

“Bro, wake up!” he said as he shook me. I looked down. I was dripping in sweat and I was wearing only my jockstrap. The fact that I was wearing the same red jockstrap was proof that it wasn’t a dream. “You alright dude? Coach says you were passed out here for hours!”

I regained my consciousness, surprised to see him concerned for me. “Bro, you’ll never guess what happened. I was in this, like, weird maze, dude. Lockers everywhere.” I was genuinely shocked by the words that came out of my mouth. I sounded like a total dudebro.

“Bro, are you high? What are you talking about?” Kyle chuckled at how absurd I sounded. I felt embarrassed because I honestly sounded as stupid as him.

“I’m not lying, bro! There was a door right there!” I got up and pointed towards where the door should be. It wasn’t there. I looked like I was insane.

“You sure you’re okay after gym, bro? I figured you’d catch that dodgeball since you’re such a good wide receiver. Must’ve gone too hard. Practice should help clear your head.”

“Practice? Wide receiver? What the fuck are you talking about?” I didn’t play any sports. Before today, I didn’t even know any teams outside of famous ones and the ones local to us. I didn’t know any positions, any rules, or any players. If that was the case, then why did it all feel so familiar to me?

“Did you lose your memory or some shit? Let me refresh you, bro. You play football and you’re our wide receiver. You hang out with me and the boys every day. You’re a total jock, bro. You’re hardly a genius, but surely that rings a bell, right dude?” My eyes became fixated on his charming blue eyes, and I felt myself sink into them as if they were the ocean, as he reminded me about my place in the world. Finally, things started to make sense…but…

What the fuck? You hated Kyle. You didn’t play football. You weren’t friends! But for some reason, that didn’t seem right.

You loved Kyle. He was one of your best friends. You guys played football together. You guys basically ruled the school. You didn’t need to think much because you compensated with raw strength and power. Brawn over brains, bro. You were a jock and you always will be one.

“Huhu…Now you’re making sense bro,” I chuckled. I only now realized how much I changed, with how deep my voice was. How much of a cocky douchebag I looked with that smirk plastered on my face. How much bigger and stronger and taller I was. How toned and perfect every muscle in my jock body was. I should hate this, but why does it feel so good? “I had a dream that I was someone else. A total nerd, bro. It was awful.”

“That person never existed. This is who you were and always will be. Just think back to when we met, bro.” He said it with his usual cocky grin, but I felt no malice from it. I assumed he was gaslighting me into believing that I lived a different life, but he seemed genuine. I remembered him cracking up at one of my dumb jokes at practice and we started hanging out both in and out of school. Memories of the practices and football games and parties we shared filled my mind and I smiled as I looked fondly back on those days. No…I shouldn’t remember this. But for some reason, it all felt real to me, like I accidentally stumbled into some parallel universe where I was one of Kyle’s jock bros.

I felt any semblance of my former self lose control as my jock self remembered that he was the only me. I was an intruder in my jock body, someone that was never there and shouldn’t be there. I felt my thoughts slow down as my new self started overwriting any old memories with his own, and I started to remember who I really was, a jock. I wanted to die inside, watching me become another asshole jock just like Kyle, but as I was fading away, I started to remember why I liked being a jock so much in the first place. I got to be big, strong, and popular. I could fuck anyone I wanted with my massive cock. Who cared if I was a little dense? Definitely outweighed being a fucking nerd. I knew it was the jock in me talking, but it didn’t matter anymore because that’s all I was now. My cock bulged further in my jockstrap as my conscious mind was engulfed by my real self.

“Sorry bro, it’s just been a crazy day. Let's get ready for practice.”

“You’re going to practice in just that? Haven’t gotten off yet today, bro?” Kyle chuckled, pointing at my red jockstrap, which was already leaking with precum. I became embarrassed as I noticed the damp stain on my favorite jockstrap. And that Kyle was staring right at my 9 inch bulge.

“Nah, bro. I gotta get changed. Why are you looking at my dick, bro?” I became defensive, not comfortable with one of my bros staring at my erect cock. Kyle was hot and all, but this just felt wrong to me.

Kyle stammered, looking for an excuse. I could’ve sworn that his bulge grew as well in his tight football pants. “I just never realized how big it is, bro. No homo though.” He snickered, trying to ease the sexual tension. “Come on, Coach will be pissed if we take too long. Probably will make us run extra laps.” Before we left, I took one look in the mirror to admire my awesome body before joining Kyle and the others.

I had been playing football ever since I was in middle school so it’s no surprise that I was a natural. I worked up a serious sweat, but it was nothing I wasn’t used to with Coach’s exercises. He worked us to the bone every day. When I came home, my mom was cooking dinner and she asked me how practice was, and I told her good as usual with a smile on my face. For a second, I was surprised my mom knew I played football, but then I remembered that my parents were always supportive of my athletic career. They always dropped their plans to cheer me on at my games.

Later, Kyle invited me and the bros over to watch the game. I went over there as I had done many times before and I was greeted by my bros, people who I’ve known for just as long as Kyle. After all, If they were his bros, they were my bros. We laughed and joked around as we always did until the game started.

We gathered into Kyle’s room, big enough for seven guys, but man did I forget how much we reeked after practice. We always shouted a ton during the game and I’m honestly surprised we never got any noise complaints from the neighbors. It was like our own little frat party hosted in Kyle’s room. We got really into it, but we were devastated when the opposing team scored in the last minute to gain the lead and win the game. A wave of sadness and anger filled the air as everyone started to leave. Everyone but me. Kyle told me to stay for a little bit longer.

“Are you gonna make me feel better or what?” he ordered. He was really upset about the loss.

“How, bro?” I responded. Did he want me to crack a joke for him? Give him a bro hug?

“I figured you remembered. I need someone to relieve my stress.” He grabbed his massive cock in his shorts and wiggled it around, helping me put two and two together. “We found out one drunk night how good of a cocksucker you are, so you agreed to ‘lend me a hand’ if I ever need it. Don’t worry, this is our little secret.”

“Oh, sorry bro. I completely forgot.” God, that was a wild night. It was an embarrassing request, but I knew I was just helping a brother out. I got on my knees and serviced Kyle as he made himself comfortable. He grabbed the back of my head with his firm palms, covered with callouses from years of pumping iron, and pushed his girthy shaft deeper into the depths of my mouth. I was surprised at my lack of a gag reflex as this mass of meat clogged my throat. I swallowed load after load of his hot, sticky semen until we had enough.

“Gotta say, bro, you suck dick better than like 90 percent of chicks I’ve been with. You sure you’re not a little faggy?” he teased. I laughed and rebuked his claims. I’m sure even some straight guys would be tempted by him and his impressive rod, and I’m no different. We quickly changed the subject and we pretended like that never happened. Neither of us wanted the other to know how much we enjoyed it.

To this day, I don’t know what the purpose of the jockrooms was. Doesn’t really matter though. As far as I’ve known, I’ve always been a jock and that’s all anyone has ever seen me as. It is real though. It was after gym class a few weeks later. When we were changing, I saw a nerd, Kevin, walk down the same hallway I did at one point. I felt like I knew him at one point, but that obviously wasn’t true. Why would I hang out with someone like him? I hid around the corner and watched as he approached the red door. I smirked as he put his hand on the door and opened it, taking his first steps into his new life. If you can’t beat us, you might as well join us.

I was eager to see Kevin at practice later. He woke up on the same bench I did, wearing a jockstrap like me, almost completely unrecognizable from the person he was hours ago. He took a moment to adjust, but we helped him remember how much of a jock he was. Once a jock, always a jock. I will never understand why the two of us thought we were nerds before. After all, I’ve known Kev most of my life and I was the one who introduced him to Kyle and the others. He’s been my best friend since 3rd grade and we were inseparable. We were practically in sync on the field. It felt awesome knowing that we were the kings of the school, and whoever hated us was just jealous that they’re not us.

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m1ckeyb3rry · 6 months ago

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Synopsis: You find yourself developing a crush on mischievous soccer player Eita Otoya. The only problem? Eita and relationships don’t exactly go hand in hand — which is something you’re only all too aware of, considering he just so happens to be your best friend’s older brother.

BLLK Masterlist | Karasu Version

Pairing: Otoya x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 12.9k

Content Warnings: crack fic, otoya is a red flag let’s not lie to ourselves, he’s lowkey ooc at the end, reader says ‘i can NOT fix him’ but then accidentally manages to anyways, otoya plays video games but sucks at them, otoya’s younger sister is given a name (look at that word count LMAO i’m not calling her ‘otoya’s younger sister’ the entire time), std jokes, your honor eita otoya IS a loser

A/N: yes this is based off the song “best friend’s brother” from victorious. yes this is probably the dumbest otoya fic you will ever read (i promise i’ve written him better before). yes this is four times longer than it was supposed to be. idk what to say either i just get carried away LMAO

On the first day of your first year of middle school, you were told by your teacher to sit next to an entirely disagreeable looking girl. Her round face was adorned with a scowl, and there was a scrape on the bridge of her nose. She had silvery hair cut in a choppy bob, and blunt bangs streaked with green covered her forehead. When she noticed you staring at her in surprise, she made a face at you.

“What do you want?” she said.

“I’m supposed to sit here,” you said. “Teacher said so.”

“Whatever,” she said with a scoff. You gave her an uneasy look as you set your things down beside her, sliding into your chair and watching her out of the corner of your eye. If she noticed, she did not care, gripping her pencil in her hand so hard it was a miracle it did not snap in half, her scowl deepening as she looked over the introduction sheet you all had been given to fill out.

“I’m Y/N L/N,” you offered meekly, not wanting to accidentally offend her. She seemed like the kind of girl you really shouldn’t mess with, not if you wanted to keep your life and limbs intact.

She glanced at you. “Seiko Otoya.”

“Nice to meet you, Otoya,” you said.

“Seiko,” she said firmly. “Nobody calls me Otoya ‘cause I have two older siblings and it’s confusing.”

“Ah, but neither of your siblings are here, so it wouldn’t be confusing,” you pointed out before you could stop yourself. Seiko gave you an annoyed look.

“So what? Everyone’s been calling me Seiko since I can remember, so if you try to get my attention by saying Otoya I won’t realize,” she said. “What’s your problem with it?”

“I don’t have a problem,” you said, pulling out a pencil of your own and filling out your introduction sheet. Your handwriting was ten times nicer than Seiko’s, you noticed — she had a messy scrawl that was barely legible, especially when compared to your neat print.

“That’s great to hear, L/N,” she said, shoving her arm over her paper so you couldn’t look at it any longer. “Quit copying me.”

“Of all the assignments to copy on, do you really think I’d pick this one? It wouldn’t even make sense, since all of the information is about ourselves. See, this one asks about our families,” you said, tapping your eraser against the question you were referring to. “It’s not like I would write that I have two older siblings, because I don’t, even though you do.”

Seiko scoffed, puffing her cheeks out and turning back to her work with a pout. “Fine.”

You had been hoping that you’d befriend your desk partner, considering you didn’t know anyone at the middle school. All of your friends from primary school lived across town from you, so they were attending another middle school, which had the unfortunate effect of leaving you by yourself. Unfortunately, it seemed like you were out of luck when it came to making friends with the girl beside you, because Seiko was surly at best and downright hostile at worst.

When the bell rang to signify the end of the first half of the day as well as the beginning of the lunch break, you all but leapt out of your seat, speed-walking towards the cafeteria as fast as you could, eager to avoid another stiff conversation with Seiko. For her part, she rolled her eyes, taking her own time to gather her things and push in her chair, ignoring you completely all the while.

In your haste, you didn’t watch where you were going, and because of your shyly-ducked head, you ran straight into the back of a tall, heavy-set boy.

“What is wrong with you?” he snapped, spinning around to face you. He had close-cropped hair and thick brows, a narrow mouth pressed into a taut line, and a pinched, ruddy face.

“I’m sorry,” you said immediately.

“You made me drop my chocolate milk,” he said. “Apologize again, and give me money to pay for more!”

“Your chocolate milk is still in your hand,” you said quietly. He glared at you, and then, before you could react, he was unscrewing the cap and pouring its contents all over you.

“Like I said,” he said. “You made me drop it.”

“What — why would you do that?” you sputtered. You had thought that middle school would be much the same as elementary had been, only with different people, but this never would’ve happened, even just last year. You looked around wildly for a teacher, but there were none; though you were surrounded by laughing peers, you realized that you were alone in this hallway, completely and utterly alone. Everyone was laughing at you and milk was dripping down your once-white shirt and you were alone and things could not get worse.

The boy held out his hand. Things got worse. “Gimme your lunch money, freak.”

You stared at him blankly, tears welling in your eyes but refusing to fall. He tapped his foot, and slowly, when you understood that you had no choice, you reached into your pocket, fumbling around for the bit of change you had brought with you.

Suddenly, someone slapped your wrist lightly — in reprimand, and not hard enough that it hurt, but so that you were startled and ceased your actions immediately. Looking up, you saw it was Seiko Otoya, looking much the same as she had earlier, though her cheeks bloomed with a rose-colored flush as she jabbed a finger at the boy.

“Who do you think you’re messing with, huh?” she shouted, loudly enough that you were surprised no adults were alarmed. The boy’s eyes widened.

“Seiko?” he said. “I didn’t know you were—”

She let out a challenging war cry and then lunged at him. You gasped as she tackled him to the ground and socked him in the nose, looking entirely ridiculous all the while. It was like watching a chihuahua beat up a mastiff; Seiko was tiny compared to the boy, but vicious, not even giving him a moment to breathe as she rammed her fists into his face, over and over.

“Miss Otoya!” an authoritative voice said, cutting through the brawl. “What is the meaning of this?”

Your teacher stood before you, one of your classmates at her side. When Seiko did not move, she yanked her off of the boy, helping him stand and giving Seiko a stern look.

“He spilled milk on L/N and tried to take her lunch money, so I was just trying to give him a taste of his own medicine,” Seiko said with a shrug.

“You should’ve come to me, not taken matters into your own hands,” your teacher said, massaging her temples when she saw the state of your uniform. “Do you have anything to say to this young man?”

Seiko squinted at the boy, his bloody nose and shivering frame, and then she nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Go on, then,” your teacher said. Seiko placed her hands on her hips.

“I’m sorry—” she began. Your teacher nodded encouragingly. “—that I didn’t hit you harder. You could’ve gotten surgery and fixed that ugly nose of yours if I had actually managed to break it. I’ll do better next time, promise.”

The boy burst into tears. Seiko was sent to detention, giggling all the while. You were given a new uniform and the knowledge that there was at least this one person in the school who was on your side.

It was only natural that, after such an ordeal, you and Seiko ended up as fast friends. Her gruff exterior never softened any, but you found that she was kinder than she let on, and lonely in her own way.

“I learned that move from one of the wrestling matches my older brother likes to watch,” she explained to you a few days later. “I’ve been itching to try it out, so thanks for giving me the opportunity.”

“Itching to try it out?” you said in wonder, accepting the orange slice she handed you and biting into it.

“You know, I beat up 95% of the boys in my kindergarten,” she said thoughtfully. Despite the far-fetched number, you were inclined to believe her. “I’m kind of the opposite of my siblings in that sense. They’re both super popular, especially my brother Eita, but I’ve never been like that. I’m the sort of person that people generally stay far away from.”

“Well, I’m not staying far away from you,” you said.

“Right,” she said, cracking her knuckles with a smirk. “Who knows when that guy or his lackeys will come back to take revenge on you? You’ve gotta keep me around for a while, just in case.”

It was the best she could offer in terms of friendship, so you only smiled and said that you would.

You visited her house for the first time the following summer, during that part of the season when the days were long and faded into night so slowly that you could even fall asleep while it was still light out. She invited you in and then immediately tugged you after her, not bothering to offer an explanation, as was her way. You stumbled up the stairs, trying to keep pace as she whipped around a corner and knocked frantically on a shut door.

“What?” a muffled voice shouted from inside of the room.

“It’s Seiko, open up!” she shouted back. “I have to show you something!”

The door opened to reveal a boy. He was a year or so older than you and Seiko, with a delicate, handsome face and a slender, willowy build. His hair, which boasted the same strange coloring as Seiko’s, fell into low-lidded eyes that narrowed with irritation when they settled upon his younger sister.

“What is it?” he said. “I was in the middle of playing a game with my friends.”

“Look,” she said, placing her hands on your shoulders proudly. “You said you didn’t believe I had a friend, but I do, see? This is Y/N L/N, and she’s here to hang out with me!”

Her brother seemed unimpressed. “Did you have to rough her up a bit or something to get her to agree to it?”

“No!” Seiko said. “She actually likes me, right, Y/N?”

“Right,” you said, confused at what kind of argument you had accidentally found yourself in the middle of. “Um, Seiko’s my best friend at school, and she’s never beaten me up or anything, so…”

“Holy crap, you must be desperate,” he said.

“Hey!” Seiko said, kicking him in the shin. He winced and promptly slammed the door on your faces.

“You suck!” he said. “I have a soccer game tomorrow, so you’re lucky you didn’t permanently injure me!”

“I wish I had!” she said. “Come on, Y/N. He’s a jerk. Let’s go swimming. Did you bring a bathing suit? If not, you can borrow one of mine.”

“I have one,” you said. “Wait, so was that your older brother? The one who watches wrestling matches and all?”

“Yeah, that’s Eita. He’s in the grade ahead of us. I guess you could say we’re closer with each other than with our older sister, since she’s already finished high school, but to be honest, he’s dumb and mean, so we don’t get along very well,” she said.

“I picked up on that,” you said. “He seriously didn’t believe you had any friends?”

“No!” she said. “I told you back when we first met that he and our sister are super popular and I’m not, didn’t I? The thing is that he’s aware of that, too, and he always teases me for it, so when I told him I actually had made a friend, he acted like I was making it up. That’s why I took you to meet him, but he just had to go and be annoying about it! Ugh. I shouldn’t have expected anything else.”

“That’s the worst. Oh, and he plays soccer?” you said. She gave you a strange look.

“Mhm, why?” she said.

“Dunno,” you said. “Just wondering.”

Even you weren’t sure why you were curious about Eita Otoya. Your first interaction with him had hardly been memorable, and if anything you should really despise him for being rude to Seiko. But wasn’t it common for siblings to fight? That didn’t mean he was a bad person, did it?

Actually, it was irrelevant. You doubted you would see much of him, so no matter the quality of his character, he wasn’t someone you needed to be thinking of as anything more than your best friend’s brother. Resolving to push it aside, you spent the rest of the summer with Seiko by their pool, eating popsicles and playing mermaids and getting into splash fights and entirely ignoring whatever signs of her brother’s existence presented themselves.

In fact, until you and Seiko began high school, your path hardly crossed with Eita Otoya’s. He was always out with his friends whenever you came over, and the things he preferred to do had such little overlap with yours and Seiko’s interests that it was as if he did not even live in the Otoya household at all. Indeed, you saw more of their older sister, who was already in college, than you did him, and he became nothing but a vague thought in the back of your mind, only considered when you saw a random sock on their kitchen floor or a soccer jersey thrown across the back of the armchair in their living room.

All of this changed when you and Seiko became high schoolers and she joined the swim team. Her practice hours were long and irregular, which meant there were often times that you’d sit around her house, doing homework while you waited for her to come back. Some days she was only five minutes late; others, it was half an hour or more. It was frustrating, but it could not be helped, so you learned quickly that you should bring something to entertain yourself with if you dared to head to the Otoya household on a day she had swimming — which was every day, or so it seemed.

“Hey. You’re L/N, right? Seiko’s friend?”

You were pulled out of writing a history paper by someone speaking to you curiously. When you looked up, you saw that it was Eita Otoya, a brown paper bag in his hands and a friendly smile on his face. He set the bag on the counter and rummaged about in one of their cabinets, pulling out two plates while he gazed at you, waiting for an answer.

“Yes, I am,” you said, omitting the fact that you had been coming to his house for years, seeing no merit in bringing it up. “You’re her older brother.”

“Yup,” he said, emptying the contents of the bag onto one of the plates. “I can’t believe you’re doing homework at your best friend’s house.”

“She was supposed to be back half an hour ago, but I think one of her teammates pissed the coach off, so they all got held back again,” you said. “I figured I might as well be productive while I waited for her.”

“Smart,” he said. “Want some?”

He held up the plate filled with churros at you. You furrowed your brow, feeling entirely awkward — this was probably the longest conversation you had ever had with him, and certainly the only one you had had without Seiko present.

“Uh, sure,” you said.

“Good choice, these things are delicious,” he said, shaking his head as he heaped a generous portion onto the other plate. Pulling out the chair across from you, he handed you your plate and then sat down with a dreamy exhale. “I swear they put crack in them or something.”

“It’s possible,” you said, debating whether you should close your laptop before deciding you might as well. It wouldn’t do for your keyboard to get sticky with cinnamon sugar, and it would probably be rude of you to have it out while he was sitting with you.

You both were quiet for a while — you were too unsure of what to say to him, so you opted for silence, and he was distracted with eating his churros and texting someone on his phone. Maybe you should’ve kept your laptop open after all.

“Say, L/N,” he said. “If you were a girl—”

“I am a girl,” you interrupted him, somewhat put-out that he had forgotten that. He rolled his eyes and took another bite out of a churro, chewing and swallowing it before responding.

“Obviously,” he said. “You didn’t let me finish. If you were a girl who was dating someone, and they cheated on you, what would you do?”

“You could’ve just phrased it like ‘if you were dating someone, and they cheated on you, what would you do?’ You didn’t have to specify the ‘if you were a girl’ part,” you muttered. It was a childish thing to be hung up about, but for some reason it really irritated you to think that he thought of you as something other than you really were.

He cocked his head at you, like he was trying to discern whether you were really being serious or not. He must’ve decided that you were, for he chuckled. It was not quite condescending but bordering on it, and it did not improve your mood any.

“Alright, I’m sorry. That’s my bad. Well, if you were dating someone, and they cheated on you, what would you do?” he said.

“I’d be upset and break up with them immediately, duh,” you said.

“Why?” he said.

“What do you mean why?” you said incredulously. “Wouldn’t you do the same?”

“I’m not sure. No one’s ever cheated on me before,” he said with an impish grin, leaning over the table and snatching one of the churros off of your plate. “That’s why I wanted to know what you think.”

“No one’s ever cheated on me before, either. I’ve never even dated someone. That’s just the kind of thing where you already know what you’d do, though you hope it never happens,” you said.

“You’ve never dated someone? But you’re so pretty,” he said. You coughed, a bit of the churro that you had just swallowed sticking against your throat peculiarly at the compliment, which he had tossed out so casually it was as if he had just been commenting on the weather.

“Thanks,” you said. “Anyways, er, like I was saying — like I was saying, I wouldn’t stay with a cheater. Not ever.”

“That’s a shame,” he said, taking your empty plate, stacking it atop his own, and setting both in the sink. Running his hands under a stream of water so that there wasn’t any residue left on them, he shook his head. “It isn’t that big of a deal, you know. Like, it doesn’t mean anything.”

“Doesn’t mean anything?” you said. “Of course it means something. It means you don’t have any respect for the person you’re dating, and I wouldn’t want to be with someone who doesn’t respect me, so why would I stay with someone who cheated? Plus, I’m sure you’ve heard what they all say — once a cheater, always a cheater. If they did it before, they’ll do it again.”

“That’s not very conducive to a growth mindset,” he said, patting his hands dry on a red-striped dish towel.

“Maybe not,” you said. “But people who cheat can grow somewhere far away from me.”

“That sounds like my cue to leave,” he said with a two-fingered salute. “I used to wonder why you were friends with Seiko, but to be honest, I can see it now.”

Before you could ask him what he meant by that, he had left the kitchen, running up to his room, taking the steps two at a time. You were rendered absolutely bewildered, your sugary fingers and your unfinished essay and the two empty plates in the sink serving as the only proof that the conversation had even happened in the first place.

“Your brother’s really weird,” you said to Seiko when she got back, smelling faintly of chlorine, though you knew she had already showered at the pool. She cringed.

“Tell me about it. What did he do this time?” she said, pulling a large sweatshirt on, her hair sticking up every which way afterwards.

“He gave me churros and asked me what I’d do if someone cheated on me,” you said. She snorted.

“Sounds like him,” she said. “He’s kind of a serial dater, you see. He doesn’t tell me much, mostly because I’d be seriously grossed out by it, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s a cheater, too. Seriously, I don’t even know how we’re related. He’s the worst. I’d tell him to stop if I thought that he’d actually listen to me.”

“Oh,” you said.

“Don’t be so gloomy,” she said, elbowing you in the side affectionately. “It’s not like you’ll ever get with him, so why are you worried? I’d never let you date a cheater like that. Seriously, if you ever get a boyfriend—”

“If?” you said.

“You know what I mean. Anyways, like I was saying, I’ll beat him up if he cheats on you, whoever he might be!” she said, flexing her biceps, which were admittedly impressive, albeit hidden by the puffy sleeves of her sweatshirt.

“What if it’s your brother?” you said.

“Ew, why would it be him?” she said, pretending to gag. “Never date Eita. You deserve way better. He’s like a walking STD, probably. Just being in the same room with him is enough to give anyone herpes.”

“It was just a hypothetical question. And also, don’t you live with him? That’s nasty, do you have herpes, too?” you said. She ran her hands through her hair in a futile attempt to tame it; you reached into your backpack and pulled out a comb, tossing it at her.

“I’m immune because we’re related,” she said. “They only transfer if you have those kinds of intentions, so you’re safe for now, but I’m just saying, he’s a genuine health risk to be around. And to answer your question, yeah, I’d take any opportunity to punch him, so if he cheated on you I’d go at it doubly hard!”

“That makes it seem like I’m more of an excuse for you to mess with your brother than you actually wanting to defend my honor or anything,” you said.

“There’s a bit of both factoring into the decision,” she admitted. “Let’s stop thinking about it, though. I’m feeling itchy in places I should not be feeling itchy at just the prospect of you guys being together.”

“I didn’t need to know that,” you informed her. She stuck her tongue out at you, and the topic was, in turn, forgotten.

For some reason, though, you found yourself showing up at the Otoyas’ house earlier and earlier. Not enough to draw suspicion, but enough that you almost always had at least a couple of minutes there by yourself. Mr. and Mrs. Otoya had long ago grown accustomed to your presence and treated you more like another daughter than anything, so they didn’t find it strange, and Seiko’s older sister had recently moved into her own apartment nearer to her university, so she didn’t even realize that it was happening.

In fact, there was only one consequence to this newfound habit of yours: in the many moments before Seiko returned from her practices, you struck up a friendship with her brother, Eita.

Things were awkward at first, you couldn’t deny it. He didn’t have much interest in you, and in fact it seemed like he only entertained you because it would be even worse if he didn’t.

“Oh, you’re here again,” he’d say if he got back from soccer before Seiko came back from swimming. “No Seiko?”

“Not yet,” you’d say, a poster board or worksheet or laptop in front of you. “She should be back in a few minutes. We’re supposed to finish this project together.”

“I told her she should’ve picked soccer,” he’d say with a laugh. “We always finish on time.”

“Cool,” you’d say, because how else could you respond? He’d raise his eyebrows at you, and then, if he felt generous, he’d give you a churro. If not, he’d dart off to his room, mumbling some excuse about having to call one of his friends or something, which you never responded to, because it was mostly unimportant to you.

There wasn’t any huge reasoning behind it. Talking to Eita Otoya wasn’t particularly stimulating, and though you certainly found him good-looking, you wouldn’t go so far as to say you had a crush on him. Mostly, you found him to be a bit of an enigma, and if in figuring him out, you got a few churros out of it, then you supposed it was a fair enough deal, but it wasn’t like you were seeking out his company or anything.

Eventually, he seemed to warm to you a bit more, though you were still standoffish, Seiko’s warning ever-present in the back of your mind — the one regarding walking STDs and herpes and whatnot. You never brought it up with him, but that really was the cause of your shyness, not — not anything else. Definitely not anything else. Why would you be shy around him of all people?

“Hey, L/N,” he’d say nowadays, greeting you cheerfully and sitting next to you as you did your homework. “How’re things going?”

“They’re good, thank you,” you’d say, scooting away from him inconspicuously. Herpes. STDs. Genuine health risk. Oh, he smells really nice…

“I’m doing well myself,” he’d respond, despite the fact that you typically didn’t bother with asking. “Still no Seiko?”

“Nope,” you’d say with a sigh. “Still no Seiko.”

He’d wrinkle his nose. “Damn. Sorry to hear it.”

“It’s fine,” you’d say. “She’ll be here soon, and she’ll probably be full of complaints about her coach.”

“I’d stick around until then, but unfortunately, my PC is calling,” he’d say, or he’d give some other such goofy excuse that was obviously designed to pull a laugh out of you and usually did. “See you around, L/N.”

“Later,” you’d say. “Have fun with your PC.”

It was nice. You wouldn’t say you were close with him by any means — definitely not as close as you were with his sister — but the two of you got along. You didn’t know much about him, and you doubted he knew much about you, but you both could hold enough of a conversation that you began to actually look forward to spending time with him.

Only because he was oddly funny in his own way, and kind of sweet, too. It had nothing to do with how nice his laugh sounded or how bright his grin was or the way he spoke to you, gently but also mischievously. You didn’t even notice these things, not one bit.

“Y/N!” he said one Saturday, banging into the kitchen excitedly. At some point, you had indeed become Y/N to him, though you couldn’t quite place when that shift had occurred. “No Seiko?”

“She’s at a meet,” you said. “She told me she’d come back once she was done with her races, but she texted me a few minutes ago that her coach is making her stay for the entire thing, and she doesn’t know how long it’ll take. I thought about going home, but then I thought that, since I’m already here, I should just wait for her.”

“I’m surprised you’re not doing homework,” he said, hopping onto the counter, a box in his hands, ostensibly filled with churros.

“It’s Saturday,” you pointed out. “I did all of my weekend work yesterday so I could be free today and tomorrow. Seiko and I were supposed to have a movie marathon, so I didn’t want to be distracted.”

“Supposed to?” he said, wandering around his kitchen, taking out cutlery and plates with an uncharacteristically serious expression. “Why wouldn’t you be able to?”

“Who knows when she’ll get back? Hopefully, it’s soon, but I’m sure you’re aware of how random the meet schedules can be, so we might run out of time to have a marathon proper,” you said.

“It’s like I always say,” he said.

“She should’ve picked soccer,” you completed for him. “What makes you bring that up today?”

“Our matches are timed,” he said. “No uncertainty there. Look, forget about that for a moment. I walked past this bakery on my way back from soccer practice, and they were having a sale, so I stopped in. I asked Seiko, and she said you like these. Is that true? Because if she was lying, I’m gonna kill her.”

Instead of churros like you had expected, he was holding a plate of cupcakes, frosted in pastel shades, crystal sprinkles glittering under the ceiling lights. They were beautiful, like little flowers or jewels, and you beamed as he put them on the table and waited for you to speak.

“No way!” you said. “Are these from that place by the park? I’ve been wanting to go there for ages, but their stuff is so expensive that I could never justify it. I can’t believe they had a sale! Thank goodness you happened to walk past. I would’ve cried if I missed my chance to try their stuff.”

“So, as a girl, you’re impressed by this?” he said as you unwrapped one of the cupcakes and shoved it in your mouth. You gave him a surprised look, your chin covered in icing, sweet cake filling your cheeks. He suppressed a laugh, handing you a napkin as you rapidly chewed and swallowed.

“What d’you mean?” you said.

“I’m trying something new,” he explained. “Buying flowers is kinda lame nowadays; plus, if I get cupcakes instead, then I can also have some, so it’s a win-win.”

“I see,” you said, dabbing at your face with the napkin.

“I thought I’d ask for your feedback, since you’re the only girl I talk to regularly. Besides Seiko, obviously, but it’s not like I’m going to ask my little sister about this kind of stuff,” he said.

“I’d say I was pretty impressed,” you said. “However, I would also say you shouldn’t mention that you got them on sale.”

“Of course I wouldn’t mention that to a girl I was actually interested in,” he said. “I just told you because I knew you’d refuse to eat them otherwise.”

“That’s true,” you said. “Buying these at full price would’ve been stupid in any situation, but especially so because it’s not like you’re trying to be nice to me or anything.”

“You make me sound like a villain,” he complained. “I still got them for you, didn’t I? Why does it matter what my reasons were?”

“Your reasons are kind of villainous,” you said. “You got them for me so I could tell you whether your new strategy for picking up girls was a winner or not.”

“I compensated you for your services!” he said. “What kind of villain would do that? By the way, is it? A winner, I mean.”

“I think so, but everyone’s different. It could work with one person and not another,” you said.

“Good enough for me,” he said, patting you on the head. You paid him no mind — not true, even the lighthearted touch made you feel all squirmy and strange — and pulled out your phone, which had just vibrated with a text.

It was Seiko, and you sighed as you read the message. Eita peered over your shoulder and then hummed sympathetically.

“Ooh, is that Seiko? Yikes,” he said.

‘now the coach is making us all go to dinner as a team :/ we can have our movie marathon another time?? sorry i made you wait and then stood you up.’

A second later, your phone buzzed again.

‘i feel like eita LMAO omg pls don’t slap me like his last ex did. i’ll make it up to you another time PROMISE!!’

You would’ve laughed, but you felt so discouraged by her earlier text that you could only muster up a half-smile. Eita gasped in offense when he read the second message, drawing back and sticking his nose in the air, folding his arms over his chest.

“I can’t believe she’s airing my business out to you like that,” he said.

“I can’t believe you got slapped by your last ex,” you said, though the words lacked the teasing bite that they should’ve had. He frowned at you.

“Are you just going to go home now?” he said.

“Guess so, since Seiko won’t be back until tonight,” you said. “Oh, well. At least I got cupcakes. I’m sure the girl that you stood up wasn’t so lucky.”

“Ha, ha, very funny,” he said. “No, she wasn’t.”

“And you claimed you weren’t a villain,” you said, shaking your head in disappointment. “See you later. Thanks for the cupcakes.”

He opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but then, just as abruptly, closed it again. You arched a brow at him, but he only smiled at you.

“See you,” he said, putting the cupcakes back in the box and handing it to you. “Take these.”

“Don’t you want them?” you said. He had never given you the extras of anything he had ever bought before, preferring to keep them so he could eat them later that night or for breakfast the next day.

“Nah, I got them for you, so you should keep them,” he said. “Thanks for your help.”

“Anytime,” you said, your fingertips brushing against his as he handed you the box. A burst of static electricity shocked you, and you bit back a hiss as you accepted it from him, not wanting to seem whiny when he hadn’t even reacted.

“Hold on,” he said as you made your way to the door. “Listen, if she stands you up again, I’ll watch the movies with you.”

“Really? They’re not your genre, so I’m sure you’ll be bored,” you said.

“You don’t even know what my genre is,” he said.

“Maybe not,” you said. “I’ll take you up on that, then, so I hope you meant it.”

“I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t,” he said.

“You’re not half-bad, you know,” you said thoughtfully, tucking the box under your arm so you could unlock the front door. “Seiko always calls you mean, but you’re pretty nice.”

“If she was half as agreeable as you, I wouldn’t have to be mean!” he said. “It’s way easier to be nice to you than anyone else, Y/N.”

You weren’t sure what he meant by that. What even were you to him? Just his little sister’s best friend, or something different? Were the two of you genuinely friends, or were you just the girl he asked for help with his stupid relationships that never lasted for longer than a week? Did he like you? Did you like him? No, of course you didn’t. This was Eita Otoya. You could never like him, not if you valued your friendship with Seiko or the well-being of your heart. You didn’t like him. You didn’t, you didn’t, you didn’t.

“That’s good,” you said finally. “Thanks again.”

“Bye,” he said.

“Bye,” you said, and with a final look at him, you let the door swing shut and turned towards your home.

The next day, you got up early so that you could make it to the bakery before they ran out of their best wares. Eita hadn’t specified how long the sale lasted, and if there was even a chance that it was still ongoing, you wanted to take advantage of it.

Thanks to the odd hour, there wasn’t a line outside of the bakery, and you felt confident as you walked into the warm, dough-scented building. It was airy and bright, flowers and sweets in the windowsill, the display cases well-lit and stocked with a multitude of desserts. Plants hung from the ceiling, and the pale wallpaper was covered with floral motifs, small birds perching amongst the blooms. The bakery itself was so beautiful that you almost forgot what you were there for until one of the employees cleared her throat.

“Can I help you, miss?” she said.

“Hi!” you said. “A friend of mine mentioned that you were having a sale yesterday. Is that still happening?”

“A sale? We don’t do sales here, I’m afraid. Is it possible that they went somewhere else?” she said.

“No, he specifically said the place by the park,” you said, furrowing your brow. “Are you sure you didn’t happen to have a sale?”

“Positive,” she said. “I was working yesterday, too, so if you describe him, I can let you know if he came or not.”

“He’s about this tall,” you said, holding up your hand at approximately Eita’s height. “Plays soccer, silver hair with a green streak—”

“Yes! He came in right around lunchtime yesterday and bought cupcakes,” she said. “Um, is he single, by any chance?”

“As good as,” you said. You had no idea what the state of his romantic life was, but considering how quickly he jumped from girl to girl, there was almost no point in saying that he was taken. “If he ever comes back, feel free to make a move on him. He’d probably appreciate it. Moving on, do you mean to say that he got those at full price?”

“He would’ve had to,” she said. “Like I said, we don’t do sales. We’re not that kind of establishment.”

“I might faint when you answer this, so please be slow and careful when you do, but how much, exactly, is full price for what he bought?” you said. “Out of curiosity.”

She told you. You did not faint, but it was such an exorbitant number that, for a moment, you really thought you might.

The next Saturday evening, you went to the Otoyas’ with a wad of cash in your hand. Seiko and her parents were away the entire weekend for an invitational meet, but for once, she was not the one you had gone to visit, so this was of little consequence to you.

You rang the doorbell and waited with crossed arms, the humid air oppressive against your skin. According to your weather app, it was going to rain soon, and you pursed your lips at the thought that Eita might not be home and you’d get caught in the downpour with nothing to show for it.

Luckily, the door opened, revealing him standing there in a pair of shorts, his hair still damp and a towel around his neck. You focused very hard on pretending like he was wearing a shirt, even though he was not, and it worked well enough that you could just barely greet him properly.

“Y/N? Hey, I’m sorry you walked all this way, but Seiko’s not home. Did she forget to tell you she’s gone for the weekend?” he said.

“No, I’m here for you,” you said.

“Huh?” he said.

“Not like that! I mean, I went to that bakery, and the girl working there told me they never have sales, which means you paid full price for those cupcakes. That’s insane! I can’t accept that,” you said.

“So, what, are you gonna vomit them out at my feet or something? That sounds gross, please don’t,” he said.

“I’m paying you back,” you said, extending your hand and offering him the money. “Don’t even think about refusing. I already feel horrible.”

“No way,” he said. “It was a present. You don’t pay people back for presents, that’s like a faux pas or something. I think. Er, I’d have to look it up to be certain, but I’m pretty sure it’s frowned upon.”

“I didn’t even do anything present-worthy, so why would you give me one?” you said.

“Yeah, you did. You helped me out, remember? Gave me advice and all,” he said.

“That was hardly worth all of this!” you said. “Seriously, at least take a little bit.”

“Nah,” he said. “You should come inside.”

“For what?” you said. “Seiko’s not here.”

“True, but I feel bad that you walked for nothing, so it’s the least I can do,” he said.

“It wasn’t for nothing. It was to pay you back, which I will do, and after that I’ll go home,” you said.

“Doubt it,” he said. “Come on, it’s going to rain soon. If you get sick and blame me for it, my sister will kill me.”

Reluctantly, you followed him into the kitchen, hyper aware that you both were alone. It had never been like this before; always, someone else had been in the house, whether his mother or father or one of his sisters. You shouldn’t have cared that it was just the two of you, but you found that you did. It was as uncomfortable and strange as the turbulent skies and muggy atmosphere, but also pleasant in a way, like the sweet smell of yeast in a bakery or flower petals dusting against the crackled tops of sugar cookies in a windowsill.

“Do you like Super Smash Bros.?” he said, taking the towel and rubbing his head vigorously, giving him the frazzled appearance of a hedgehog, or perhaps an electrocuted cat of the cartoonish variety.

“It’s fun, but I’m not that good. Seiko usually beats me,” you said.

“We can play, if you want,” he said.

“Okay?” you said. “Why?”

“I’m just trying to think of things that we can do, since you’re here and all,” he said.

“What were you planning on doing if I didn’t come?” you said.

“I was going to go on a date,” he said.

“Oh! Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you actually had plans! I should leave so you can get to that,” you said. He waved you off dismissively, already turning the console on and connecting the controllers.

“It’s fine, I already canceled on her. Hopefully she gets the hint. If I have to spell it out to her that I’m not interested anymore, it’ll be annoying,” he said.

The TV flashed with the starting screen, the music blaring as you sat on opposite ends of the couch, remotes in hand. Outside, thunder rumbled ominously, and you thought that you should probably send your location to your parents so that they didn’t get worried. While Eita messed with the settings, you did that, receiving affirmative responses from both of them in turn — which made sense, as neither of them knew that Mr. and Mrs. Otoya, along with Seiko, weren’t home.

“Do you care what map we use?” he said.

“Seiko and I usually just go random,” you said. “So whatever you want is fine.”

“Random is the best,” he said. “Especially when you get the interactive maps that actively try to kill you. It’s way more exciting that way.”

“Exactly,” you said. Half of yours and Seiko’s matches were decided based on who could adjust to the map faster; sadly for you, this was frequently your best friend, and only very rarely you.

“What character do you play? I know Seiko likes Palutena, so probably not her, right?” he said.

“I only ever play as girl characters, but my favorite is Zero Suit Samus,” you said, clicking on her and changing her outfit so that it was the burgundy version.

“You only play as girl characters? Why?” he said.

“It’s the best way to bond with your avatar. If you can’t connect with your character, then how can you hope to win?” you said.

“Are you for real?” he said. You maintained a straight face for as long as you could before breaking into laughter.

“Obviously not. I just like playing as characters I think are pretty, since I don’t have much of a chance at winning either way,” you said.

“That makes sense,” he said. “I play as Sheik. He’s based off of a ninja, so it makes sense.”

It was your turn to give him a strange look. “What?”

“Because we’re descended from ninjas and all, so I have to stick with the theme. It’s like the Otoya brand,” he explained.

“I got that part,” you said. “What do you mean by he, though? Sheik is a girl.”

He paused right before clicking on Sheik, his eyes wide. “No way. He’s obviously a guy.”

“Not so,” you said. “I looked up a list of all female characters in Smash when I was trying to pick a main, and Sheik was on it. She’s Princess Zelda’s alter-ego, apparently.”

“Are you messing with me again?” he said.

“No, not this time,” you said. He mulled this over before shrugging and clicking on the character’s icon anyways.

“Whatever,” he said. “I’m used to her, so there’s no point in changing. Besides, it doesn’t really matter if she’s a girl.”

“Very true,” you said. “Alright, I’m ready whenever you are.”

“Be prepared,” he warned you as he pressed the start button and the screen switched to a countdown. “I’m not going to go easy on you.”

“Wasn’t expecting you to,” you said. “Considering how frequently I’m pummeled by your sister, I’m used to losing.”

“Good. Get used to it more,” he said, immediately starting off before you could even orient yourself on the map. “Bang! Gotcha! You really are bad at this.”

“Just as an aside, the TV makes sound effects, so you don’t need to add more of your own,” you said, wrinkling your nose and dodging out of his next attack.

“It makes it more fun,” he said. “You should try it. Really helps you get in the zone.”

“Hm,” you said. “I’ll leave it to you.”

Somehow, you and Eita were actually evenly matched, and during the final round, you knocked his character off of the edge, guarding it until he couldn’t hope to recover and fell to his defeat.

“Yay!” you said as the victory screen showed your character posing. “I haven’t won in ages! This is awesome.”

“Rematch! You only won because you’re one of those dirty edge guarders!” he said, already setting up the next game.

“‘Dirty edge guarders?’ That’s how the game is played,” you said.

“Nuh-uh, it’s against the rules,” he said. “Isn’t it?”

“No? There aren’t really rules in Smash. How do you not know this? Also, you should really stop saying things when you don’t even know if they’re true,” you said.

“My older sister would always tell me it was against the rules when we used to play,” he said. You waited for it to dawn on him; when it did, he groaned and facepalmed. “She was full of shit?”

“I’m afraid you were, in fact, duped,” you said.

“No wonder she always beat me,” he grumbled. “Whenever I was close to winning, she’d say whatever I was doing was against the rules.”

“That would do it,” you said. “I don’t mind playing again, though.”

“This time I’ll beat you for sure,” he said. “Now that I don’t have to abide by any bullshit guidelines.”

The two of you got wrapped up in a series of matches, eventually turning on the random character selector as well as the random map selector, refusing to read the tutorials so you were really going into things blind and figuring it out as you went. You had way more fun than you had expected you would, and as the evening went on, any thoughts of feeling self-conscious vanished from your mind. It was just Eita Otoya, after all. He was only your best friend’s older brother, the one who brought you treats and played soccer and sucked at Smash and had a childish sense of humor. There was no reason to feel shy. Well, besides the fact that he had never opted to put a shirt on, but that was a non-issue when your attention was focused solely on the screen.

You weren’t sure how many rounds you had gotten through when his phone rang, so shrilly and insistently that he was forced to pause the game and take the call. He didn’t leave his spot on the couch, though, which meant you were able to observe him as the girl on the other end began to scream.

“How could you cancel on me at the last minute?” she said, loud enough that you could hear her, though his phone wasn’t on speakerphone.

“It wasn’t that hard,” he said. “I just texted you and said I’m not going.”

“You’re such a piece of shit. I thought — I thought everyone was wrong about you, but they weren’t. They weren’t at all,” she said, her voice cracking.

“I’m sorry if I gave you the impression that they were,” he said. “Listen, I’m kind of in the middle of something right now, so could you hurry up and say what you want to say?”

“Did you ever even like me?” she said.

��Yeah, at first,” he said.

“Not anymore, though,” she said.

“Guess not,” he said. “Sorry.”

“Is that it? You’re ending things just like that? Didn’t it mean anything to you? I bragged to all of my friends about you! You were so sweet, and you even got me cookies…was it all just a game?” she said.

“It wasn’t a game,” he said. “As I said, I liked you back then. I wouldn’t have done all of that if I didn’t.”

“Because that’s supposed to make me feel all better,” she said.

“I’m just explaining myself,” he said.

“You’re the worst. You’re — just, you’re the worst, ugh!” she said before hanging up. Eita made a face at the phone and then put it facedown on the table beside him, unpausing the game without a wasted moment.

“They were from the grocery store,” he said after a bit.

“What?” you said.

“The cookies I got her. Grocery store variety,” he said.

“Oh. That’s kinda shitty,” you said.

“She seemed pretty happy about them regardless,” he said. “I wasn’t about to waste my money when I knew it wouldn’t last.”

“You wasted your money on me,” you pointed out. The corners of his mouth quirked up.

“You’re Seiko’s best friend. I’m pretty sure you’re not going anywhere, so it’s not a big deal. Consider it a peace offering for not believing you were real at first,” he said, landing a combo attack on your character.

“That was ages ago,” you said.

“It’s downright traumatizing for a person when others don’t think they’re real. Fucks up their psyche and whatnot. Acknowledging my mistake was the least I could do,” he said.

“Another fact you just made up?” you said.

“Maybe,” he said. “Was it plausible?”

“Not in the slightest,” you said.

“I tried,” he said. “Woah, nice one, Y/N.”

You had just hit his character in a series of successive blows, entirely by accident but to devastating effect. He lost his first life, respawning in and jumping back to the offensive.

“Why do you even do it?” you said, finally vocalizing the question that had been bothering you for almost the entire time that you had known him.

“Do what?” he said.

“Date people, when you know you’re going to break up with them so quickly,” you said. “What’s the point?”

“I’m not sure,” he said, the glare of the screen reflecting in his fern-colored irises. “It’s always fun at first. I meet a pretty girl, and I talk her into giving me her number. We go on a date or two, and I think it might actually be different this time, but it never is. By the third or fourth date, I’m bored beyond belief and dreading going on another. Then we break up and I do it all again.”

“That sounds exhausting,” you said.

“Near the end, it is,” he said. “But it’s pretty amusing in the beginning, so I don’t see a reason to stop.”

“Do you cheat on your girlfriends?” you said. You knew for sure what he would say, but still, you wanted to hear it from him.

“What is this, interview-Eita-day? Yeah, I have in the past, but only a couple of times,” he said. “Both of them were when the relationships were on their last legs and I couldn’t be bothered to care anymore.”

“That’s callous,” you said. “You should’ve just broken up with them.”

“Dumping girls is the worst. They get all upset and start crying, and I know I should feel bad because I’m the reason, but by that point, I just want to go home,” he said. “Do you think I’m a bad person?”

“A little bit,” you said. “For the most part, though, I just don’t understand. Why do you keep going for people you know you’re going to get tired of?”

“It’s not like I can look in the future and see that I’m going to end up bored,” he said. “It just happens. We run out of things to talk about and sit there in silence. It sucks. I wouldn’t recommend it.”

“How does that even happen?” you said. “You talk all the time with me. I didn’t think you were capable of running out of things to say.”

“That’s different,” he said. “I’m not worried about impressing you — no offense — and you’re funny, plus you like some of the same things as me, so it’s easy to have a conversation with you. It’s not the case when you’re going out with someone. You’ll understand when you decide to date yourself.”

“Don’t the girls you go out with like the same things as you?” you said.

“Not really,” he said. “They think video games are for losers, and they’re too scared to go on the rides at amusement parks. Some of them understand soccer, but not to the point that it’s something they’d want to talk about frequently.”

“Maybe that’s the problem,” you said. “You’re only going out with people who you have zero shared interests with. It’s normal that you’d get bored of them, and that they’d get bored in return.”

“You’re thinking too much about it,” he said. “It’s not that deep.”

“That’s how it works,” you said. “Quite fundamentally, actually. It’s impossible to build a relationship with someone when you both have nothing in common. In fact, it’s unfair to all involved parties.”

“Are you trying to give me advice?” he said.

“Depends. Will you take it seriously if I do?” you said.

“Not sure. It’s kind of ridiculous for me to be listening to my little sister’s friend about this kind of thing,” he said.

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” you said.

“True,” he said. “Go ahead, then.”

“What do you even look for when you’re thinking of dating a girl?” you said.

“How hot she is,” he said. You waited for him to elaborate. He did not.

“That’s it?” you said.

“Pretty much,” he said.

“Why?” you said.

“Why not? Isn’t physical attraction important?” he said.

“To a certain extent, yes, but after a while, less and less so,” you said. “Haven’t you ever watched any romance movies? ‘It’s what’s on the inside that counts.’ Physical attraction alone isn’t enough in the long term.”

“Okay,” he said slowly. “So what do you suggest?”

“Are there any girls you genuinely enjoy spending time with? Not romantically, just because you like talking to them, even if they’re not the prettiest or whatever,” you said.

“I don’t really spend time with girls unless I’m trying to date them. It never works out. They always end up liking me, and besides, it makes my girlfriends mad if I’m friends with other girls,” he said.

“You seriously have zero female friends,” you deadpanned.

“And just how many male friends do you have?” he shot back.

“None,” you said. “Okay, fair enough.”

“Wait, no, I guess we’re friends,” he said. “Yeah, you’re cool, Y/N. I mean, you’re pretty as well, but I don’t really think about that part much because you’re friends with Seiko.”

“Thanks,” you said. “You’re cool, too.”

“Now what? You’re a girl, and I like talking to you. Where do I go from there?” he said.

“I was going to say you should try dating one of those girls instead, but obviously that’s not applicable here,” you said.

“Ah,” he said. “Okay.”

“Don’t worry, it’s not like I’m all that unique,” you said, taking advantage of his distraction to win another match. “It won’t be that hard for you to find someone else that you like hanging out with, and then you can just date them. Hopefully, you won’t get bored with a relationship like that.”

Eita didn’t respond. You doubted he knew how to and you were glad for his silence, because you yourself felt embarrassed that you had tried so hard to help him. Since when had you been the kind of girl who wanted so badly to give people guidance? He had his problems, no one could deny that, but why did you care about them? Why did it matter to you if he was happy, or if he grew out of whatever phase he was currently in?

Maybe it was because you knew he could be better. The caricature of him that you heard about, from Seiko and from the rumors around your high school, contrasted so harshly with the Eita Otoya you knew. People loved him because they wanted to be him, to have that effortless and selfish attitude towards life, but you didn’t think that very many of them took the time to understand him.

You doubted anyone at school knew that he was horrible at Super Smash Bros., or that he was entirely gullible and liked to make other people laugh. How many of them would find him admirable if they knew of his addiction to churros and diet sodas? He wasn’t cool or charming or suave the way he pretended to be. At the end of the day, he was nothing but a dumb boy blessed with a handsome enough mien that had fallen into a crowd which demanded more of him than he honestly should’ve had to give.

Putting this protectiveness down as a symptom of your friendship with Seiko — of course you cared for her older brother, he was a part of her family and you cared about her, it only made sense — you noticed that there was a lull in the storm. Bidding Eita farewell and shoving the money into his phone case when he was preoccupied with turning the game off, you ran home before it could begin to rain again, blaming your queasiness on the fact that you had not yet eaten dinner and nothing more.

“Eita’s been talking about you a lot,” Seiko said to you at lunch one day, a couple of weeks after the evening you had spent with her brother. Both you and he had mutually agreed not to bring it up, and Seiko was none the wiser, or at least so you had thought.

“What do you mean?” you said. She took a sip out of her juice box.

“Nothing bad. He just asks me how you’re doing and stuff,” she said.

“That’s not that weird. Why’d you bring it up?” you said. For a moment, you had thought she meant that he was asking about you for a different reason, but this just sounded like a typical and general concern.

“It’s a little weird. He doesn’t typically care about how other people are doing. The other day, he asked me when you’re coming over again, since according to him it’s ‘been a while.’ Like he’s keeping track or something!” she said.

“He’s not wrong. It has been a bit,” you said.

“I know, I know,” she said. “Season’s almost over, and then I’m all yours.”

“You don’t have off-season workouts?” you said.

“Fuck off-season workouts,” she said. “I’ll skip on the days we plan to hang out. My coach won’t say anything. I’m the star of the team, so he has to live with it.”

“You’re the best,” you said.

“And you’re trying to change the subject!” she said. “Are the two of you buddy-buddy now or something?”

“Or something,” you said. “We’ve just spoken a few times while I was waiting for you to come back home from practices.”

She narrowed her eyes at you before nodding slowly. “Look, just so you know, I don’t mind if you’re friends with him or anything.”

“That’s good. I’ll keep it in mind,” you said.

“He’s my brother, after all. I like knowing that my best friend is getting along with my family,” she continued.

“I get along with your family so well that I’m surprised they haven’t started calling me Y/N Otoya yet,” you said.

“But I want you to be aware of what kind of person he is,” she said with a note of finality. “He might do something that hurts your feelings.”

“You’ve told me. Many times, actually,” you said.

“And I don’t want you to stop being friends with me if he does,” she said. “Okay?”

“I wouldn’t do that,” you said. “You’re my best friend in the entire world.”

“You promise?” she said, in a rare show of vulnerability.

“Promise,” you said. She punched you in the arm, returning back to being the Seiko you knew.

“Good. Then do what you want with him,” she said.

“What?” you said.

“Just saying! You deserve better, obviously, but I won’t turn down a chance to have you as my sister-in-law,” she said. “Besides, he knows that if he messes with you, I’ll take your side, so that might be an incentive for him to stay on the straight and narrow.”

“Seiko! It’s not like that!” you said. “I don’t have feelings for him. He’s your brother.”

“Whatever you say,” she said in a sing-song voice, taking another sip of her juice box, obviously done with the discussion.

She knew you better than you knew yourself. That was what happened when a person was best friends with another for years upon years, and that was why she understood even before you did what it was that was brewing between you and her brother, what had been brewing since long before that evening where you had finally noticed a palpable shift in your dynamic.

Exam season began shortly afterwards, so you didn’t have the time to go to the Otoyas’ when you were so wrapped up in studying. Then, once exams were finished, Seiko was finally freed from her grueling practice schedule, leaving her to be, as she had said earlier, all yours. This meant that even when you did go to their house, you were solely there to be with her, and so you saw little of Eita, barely speaking to him beyond exchanging pleasantries.

Sometimes you wondered how he was doing. Had he found a girl he actually liked and ended up dating her? How was that relationship going, if so? Or was he still continuing as he had been, chasing whoever he found the most attractive and then running away from them when things inevitably didn’t work out? You hoped that that wasn’t the case, though you didn’t find the former option all that appealing, either. You should’ve, because it would’ve meant that he had taken your words to heart, but you didn’t. The thought of him dating anyone was wrong and weird and you didn’t like it, but because you weren’t quite sure why that was, you decided to avoid both the feeling and its cause alike.

Halfway through summer break, on a day when your parents were on a business trip and Seiko was visiting one of her cousins in the city, Eita Otoya showed up on your front porch, knocking on the door furiously until you opened it. He was just about the last person you had expected to be standing there, red in the face and panting for breath, wearing a sweat-soaked jersey, hair sticking to his forehead and a white box in his hands.

“You look horrible,” you said.

“I ran all of the way here,” he said. “After my soccer game.”

“What for?” you said.

“I haven’t seen you in ages,” he said.

“I was just at your house the other day,” you said. “Jeez, you look like you’re about to pass out. Let me get you some water. You really could’ve walked, you know…”

He had never been to your house, so he trailed after you dutifully, sitting at the dining table and gulping down the glass of water you offered him within seconds. Taking it back, you refilled it and gave it to him again.

“You were there for Seiko, not me,” he said.

“She’s my best friend,” you said. “Obviously I was there for her.”

“And what am I?” he said.

“Not that,” you said.

“I should be upset, but for some reason, I’m kind of glad that you said that,” he said. “I don’t want to be your friend.”

“Rude much?” you said, his words stinging. “Is that all you came here to tell me? If you don’t want to be friends, that’s fine, but was there really a need for you to come to my house and announce it? How’d you even get my address?”

“Seiko told me,” he said.

“In hindsight, I should’ve seen that coming,” you said.

“I haven’t dated anyone,” he said, all in a rush, the sentences tumbling out of his mouth like he was not sure if he’d ever get the chance to say them again. “Not since that night that we played video games together.”

“Seriously? If I ask Seiko, will she confirm that?” you said.

“Of course! I’m a lot of things, I know that, but I’m not a liar. I’ve never tried to hide who I am, especially not from you,” he said.

“Well,” you said. “That’s good, then. I’m proud of you.”

“I’ve tried finding the kind of person you described,” he said. “Someone like you. You said it would be easy, but it’s not. It’s really fucking difficult.”

“Maybe you should look harder, then,” you said, rolling your eyes and placing his empty cup in the dishwasher before you forgot about it. “There’s no way I’m the only girl in the entire city that you can bring yourself to genuinely like.”

“You’re the only one I want to like,” he said. You froze in the middle of putting dish detergent in the dispenser, giving him an incredulous look.

“I’m what?” you said.

“I get that you probably don’t feel the same way. To be honest, I didn’t even realize that I did until Seiko yelled at me about it, because it’s not like it usually is. I want to spend time with you, as much as possible, even if we’re not doing anything but eating snacks or playing games. I want to listen to you talk, even if it’s about something that I think is boring. I want to buy things that’ll make you happy — the nice versions, not the kinds from the grocery store, because I don’t want to imagine that it won’t last. I want it to last,” he said.

You stared at him, slack-jawed and wide-eyed. Of all the things he could’ve said, that was the most unlikely. What was it about you that made you so different, that the ever-fickle and brutally honest Eita Otoya was driven to such a confession? You knew he wasn’t making it up, because he was right — he never did. Not once had he ever tried to mislead a girl about who he was, and you sensed that this was much the same. The problem wasn’t that you didn’t believe him. It was that you simply couldn’t understand.

“I don’t get it,” you said.

“What do you mean? What else am I supposed to say?” he said. “I like you. I think I have for a while now. At first, I thought it was just because you were my sister’s friend, but according to her, you normally don’t feel this way for the friends of your siblings.”

“You’ve been talking to Seiko about me?” you said. Suddenly, the side comments she had been making recently made a lot more sense.

“Who else would I go to? It was humiliating, asking her for help, but you guys have known each other for forever, so I figured it was the best option,” he said.

“That’s true,” you said, starting the dishwasher and pushing it shut. “Wow. I don’t know what to say to that.”

“If you’re going to reject me, don’t worry about it. I didn’t tell you all of that because I was expecting you to say yes. I just wanted you to know that — that I did take what you said into consideration,” he said.

“I’m glad you did,” you said. “It must’ve been weird, following the advice of your younger sister’s best friend.”

“You’re more than that,” he said. “You’re more than just Seiko’s friend to me. You’ve been more than that for a long time now.”

“Why me?” you said. “Why is it me, and not one of the hundreds of other girls that would jump at the chance to fix you, to be the one who finally got Eita Otoya to settle down for good?”

“It’s that bratty little sister of mine’s fault,” he said. “Because of her, you kept showing up, and by the time I noticed, it was way too late. At that point, I was already asking her what your favorite desserts were, just so I could get them for you.”

“I see,” you said.

“Besides, being with someone who wants to fix another person sounds awful. Do you want to fix me?” he said.

“If you expect me to, then you should probably just leave,” you said. “I don’t mind helping when I can, but the only person that can fix you is you.”

“Exactly,” he said. “You mentioned once that cheaters can grow somewhere far away from you.”

“Hm? Oh, I did say something along those lines, didn’t I? That was over a year ago, though,” you said, thinking back to that random conversation, unsure of why he even remembered it.

“I’ve done it,” he said. “It was hard, but I’ve done it anyways. For you, but also for myself. I’m not so sure that the highs are worth the lows anymore, and besides, I hate doing things I don’t like, and dating around is becoming one of those things.”

“Is that so?” you said. “I’m glad you realized that.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Me, too. Uh, I should probably go now, so…here. For last time. You shouldn’t have paid me back. Don’t even think about pulling something like that again.”

He opened the box, revealing an assortment of cookies, all the different kinds you liked. You didn’t need to ask him to know where he had gotten them from, and you admired them as he stood and pushed in his chair.

“Thanks for hearing me out, Y/N,” he said. “And don’t worry, I won’t make things uncomfortable, so feel free to visit Seiko whenever. I’ll stay out of your way when you come over. She doesn’t have any other friends, so don’t ditch her just because of me.”

“You’re pretty self-important, aren’t you?” you teased. “Did you think I’d give her up just because of you? Not likely. Anyways, why would things be uncomfortable?”

“Usually it’s pretty unpleasant to have to be around someone when you know they have unreciprocated feelings for you,” he said.

“I don’t think they’re unreciprocated,” you said. He quite literally paused in his tracks, foot still raised in the air as he spun to face you.

“What? You should’ve said so earlier!” he said. “Do you mean I was acting all angsty and emotional for nothing?”

“I wanted to make you suffer a bit,” you said. “I mean this gently, but you deserve it.”

He hung his head. “You’re not wrong.”

“I’ve liked you for a while as well, though like you said, I hardly understood it myself, and I didn’t have the benefit of Seiko drumming it into my mind — mostly because that’s not the kind of conversation you really want to have with your best friend about her brother,” you said. “I also knew about your reputation, and no matter how wonderful I found you, I was a little wary, so I never gave it much thought.”

“But now?” he said.

“I mean, it’s kind of hard to reject a guy who runs to your house with cookies and a dramatic speech about how much he likes you,” you said.

“When you put it like that, I sound like a loser,” he said.

“I want you to consider that you play Super Smash Bros. in your free time, and that you are obsessed with anything ninja or Naruto related, and then I would like for you to repeat that statement with the same indignation you just said it with,” you said. He huffed in defeat.

“That’s fair enough,” he said.

“Like I said, I do like you, but I’m not in the business of fixing people. The second you start getting bored or wanting to cheat on me, break up with me, and be an adult about it. Don’t run away. Just be honest, and for my part, I’ll hold back my tears until you’ve left, alright? If you can swear you’ll do that, then I don’t mind trying,” you said.

“You’re way too nice to me,” he said.

“I can add in more demands, if you’d like,” you said.

“Now, I didn’t say you had to do that,” he said. You chuckled.

“I thought you were really serious about me, though?” you said. “Since you mentioned it, I do have one more condition. Say yes, and I’ll be your girlfriend. Say no, and…you better get back to searching.”

“What is it?” he said eagerly, grabbing your hands and holding them in between his own. “I’ll do anything.”

“You have to be the one to tell Seiko,” you said. He paled.

“You wouldn’t,” he said.

“Just did,” you said. He scrunched up his face in thought, obviously imagining his sister’s reaction. Though she had given both of you her blessings in her own way, there was no doubt in your mind that she’d give the two of you a hard time — especially him, considering the fact that she already did that without even having a reason to.

“I’ll do it, but you have to come along,” he bargained. “Someone has to nurse me back to health once she’s through with me. It might as well be you.”

“You’re in no place to be asking for things,” you said.

“Please?” he said. “She’s scary as hell, and I’m saying this as someone who regularly plays against guys big enough to become pro wrestlers.”

“Alright, alright,” you said. “I’ll come with you, and I’ll put bandages on all your bruises.”

He grinned at you. “Deal.”

“Deal,” you said.

“Then I guess you’re my girlfriend now,” he said.

“I guess I am,” you said.

“Nice,” he said. “Wanna play Mario Kart?”

You snorted. “Why not?”

So you sat down on the sofa — next to each other this time, not on opposite sides, your head leaning on his shoulder and his thigh pressed against your own — and you did just that.

“So let me get this straight,” Seiko said. Eita, who had just delivered the news, was attempting to hide behind you, which was a largely ineffective method of disguise. “You two are officially dating.”

“Pretty much,” you said, when it became obvious that Eita was too petrified to respond. It was funny — he talked such a big game when it was just words, and he was the first to make fun of Seiko, but as soon as the prospect of a fight came up, he cowered away, as any smart man would.

“Interesting,” she said. “Eita, come here. I just want to say something.”

He shuffled out towards Seiko, head bowed and hands clasped together. “Yes?”

“If you ever hurt even a cell in the bodies of the mites that live on her eyelashes—”

“What the fuck?” you said. “That’s disgusting. Thanks, Seiko, now I’m going to be scrubbing my eyelashes for the next week.”

“Don’t worry about it, everyone has them. They’re normal,” Seiko said. “Like I was saying, Eita, if you mess with her, I’ll kill you. Forget about sibling loyalty; it all goes out the door on that day, you hear me?”

“Loud and clear,” he said.

“Good,” she said, nodding in satisfaction. He looked around like he was searching for a camera, obviously in disbelief that she had let him off so easily.

“Is that it?” he said.

“For now,” she said. “Ask me again in a few months and the answer might change.”

“I’ll take it,” he said. “Well, see you later. Let’s go upstairs, Y/N.”

“What? Y/N and I have plans to bake together tonight!” Seiko said.

“No way, we’re watching TV together! I’m going to make her watch all of Naruto!” he argued. In unison, they both turned to you, waiting for your response, waves of hostility rolling off of them.

“Oh, boy,” you said, already feeling a headache coming on. “This is going to be a lot more annoying than I anticipated.”

#otoya x reader #otoya x y/n #otoya x you #otoya eita #bllk x reader #bllk #blue lock #reader insert #best friend’s brother au #best friend’s brother fic #m1ckeyb3rry writes

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